Yet ftill their Force, to Men not safely known,
Seems undiscover'd to herself alone.

Lady SUNDERLAND's Picture, with thefe Words under,

-Ab Una difce Omnes.

Learn by this Portrait, how the Kit-cats Toaft;
How Charming those can fuch-like Features boast.
From Nature's Hand this vaft Profufion came,
And with as bright a Soul inform'd the Frame.
She with no haughty Airs her Triumphs views,
So her great Father looks when Countries he fub-
dues.

Mrs. STANHOPE.

Soon as one Phenix fought her kindred Skies,
A brighter rofe, and bleft our wond'ring Eyes;
Then in a chearful Bowl diffolve your Cares,
Since faft as Heav'n deprives, the Court repairs.
Madamofelle SPANHEIME.
By the Lord Hallifax.

Admir'd in Germany, ador'd in France,
Your Charms to brighter Glory here advance;
The ftubborn Britons own your Beauty's Claim,
And with their Native Toafts enroll your Name.

Mrs. TEMPEST.

If perfect Joys from perfect Beauty rise,

View Tempeft's Shape, her Motions, and her Eyes: Undoubted Queen of Love, but Honour's Slave, Whilft Thousands languish, the but One can fave.

Mrs. TEMPEST.

Venus, contending for the Golden Ball,
Us'd Helen's Charms to bribe her Judge withal:

Had the been blefs'd with Tempeft's brighter Eyes, Unborrow'd Beauty would have gain'd the Prize. Mrs. VERNON.

London, no more thy Trade or Riches boast, Within thy Walls there lives the brightest Toast, Who lays no bait to please, or ftrives to kill, Or wanting Nature does fupply by skill.

Her Air, her Mein, fuch Darts are in her Eyes, Who looks on Vernon, Loves, Adores, and Dies.

Lady WHARTON.

By Dr. Garth..

When Jove to Ida did the Gods invite,
And in immortal Toafting pass'd the Night,
With more than Nectar he the Banquet bless'd,
For Wharton was the Venus of the Feaft,

Lady WHARTON.

You Rakes, who Midnight Judges fit
Of Wine, of Beauty, and of Wit,
For Mercury and Cupid's fake
Two Bumpers to fair Wharton take;
For in that graceful charming Shell
The Gods of Wit and Pleasure dwell.

NEGATIVE LOVE

By Mr. J. DONNE.

I Never floop'd fo low, as they

Which on an Eye, Cheek, Lip, can preys
Seldom to them, which foar no higher
Than Virtue, or the Mind t' admire;

For Senfe, and Understanding may

Know what gives Fuell to their Fire:

My Love, though filly, is more brave,
For may I miss when e're I crave,
If I know yet what I would have.

If that be fimply perfecteft
Which can by no means be expreft
But Negatives, my Love is fo.
To all, which all love, I fay no.
If any who deciphers best,

What we know not, (our felves) can know,
Let him teach me that nothing. This
As yet my Eafe, and Comfort is,

Though I speed not, I cannot miss,

AD Paper ftay, and grudge not here to burn

MA

With all thofe Sons whom thy Brain did create,

At least lie hid with me, till thou return

To Rags again, which is thy native State.

What though thou have enough Unworthiness
To come unto great Place as others do,
That's much emboldness, pulls, thrufts, I confefs;
But 'tis not all, thou should't be wicked too.

And, that thou can'ft not learn, or not of me, Yet thou wilt go; Go, fince thou go'ft to her Who lacks but Faults to be a Prince, for she, Truth, whom they dare not pardon, dares prefer,

But when thou com'ft to that perplexing Eye
Which equally claims Love and Reverences

Thou wilt not long difpute it, thou wilt die;
And having little now, have then no Sense.

Yet when her warm Redeeming Hand, which is
A Miracle; and made fuch to work more,
Doth touch thee (faplefs Leaf) thou grow'ft by this
Her Creature; Glorify'd more than before.

Then as a Mother which Delights to hear
Her carly Child mif-speak half uttered Words,
Or, because Majefty doth never fear

Ill or bold Speech, the Audience affords.

And then, cold Speechlefs Wretch thou dieft again,
And wifely; what Difcourfe is left for thee?
From Speech of Ill, and her thou must abstain,
And is there any good which is not she?

Yet maift thou Praise her Servants, though not her, And Wit, and Vertue, and Honour her attend, And fince they are but her Cloaths, thou shalt not err, If thou her Shape and Beauty, and Grace commend.

Who knows thy Destiny? when thou haft done,
Perchance her Cabinet may harbour thee,
Whither all Noble ambitious Wits do run,
A Neft almoft as full of Good as the.

When thou art there, if any, whom we know

Were fav'd before, and did that Heav'n partake, When the refolves his Papers, mark what show Of Favour, she alone, to them doth make.

Mark, if to get them, the o'er-skip the reft,
Mark if the read them twice, or kifs the Name;
Mark if the do the fame that they proteft;
Mark if the mark whither her Woman came.

Mark

Mark if flight things be' objected, and o'erblown,
Mark if her Oaths against him be not still
Referv'd, and that the grieve fhe's not her own,
And chides the Doctrine that denies Free-will.

I bid thee not do this to be my Spy,

Nor to make my felf her familiar;

But so much I do love her Choice, that I
Would fain love him that fhall be lov'd of her.

A SON G.

By T. CAREW, Efq;

SK me no more where Jove bestows,

For in your Beauty's Orient deep,
These Flow'rs as in their Causes fleep.

Ask me no more whither do ftray
The Golden Atomes of the Day:
For in pure Love, Heaven did prepare
Those Powders to enrich your Hair.

Ask me no more whither doth hafte
The Nightingale, when May is past:
For in your fweet dividing Throat
She winters, and keeps warm her Note.

Ask me no more where thofe Stars light
That downwards fall in dead of Night:
For in your Eyes they fit, and there
Fixed become as in their Sphere.

Ask me no more if East or Weft,
The Phoenix builds her Spicy Neft:
For unto you at laft the flies,
And in your fragrant Bosome dies.
VOL. V.

E

A