Wretch that I am, She had my love, when a mere caper-gatherer, And fortune's smiles as yet were wanting to her. I never pinch'd nor spared in my expenses, Yet now—doors closely barr'd are all the recompence That waits on former bounties ill bestow'd.—MITCHELL. * * * * * ALEXIS. (Book xiii. § 23, p. 908.) They fly at all, and, as their funds increase, With fresh recruits they still augment their stock, Moulding the young novitiate to her trade; Form, features, manners, everything so changed, That not a trace of former self is left. Is the wench short? a triple sole of cork Exalts the pigmy to a proper size. Is she too tall of stature? a low chair Softens the fault, and a fine easy stoop Lowers her to standard-pitch.—If narrow-hipt, A handsome wadding readily supplies What nature stints, and all beholders cry, See what plump haunches!—Hath the nymph perchance A high round paunch, stuft like our comic drolls, And strutting out foreright? a good stout busk Pushing athwart shall force the intruder back. Hath she red brows? a little soot will cure 'em. Is she too black? the ceruse makes her fair: Too pale of hue? the opal comes in aid. Hath she a beauty out of sight? disclose it! Strip nature bare without a blush.—Fine teeth? Let her affect one everlasting grin, Laugh without stint—but ah! if laugh she cannot, And her lips won't obey, take a fine twig Of myrtle, shape it like a butcher's skewer, And prop them open, set her on the bit Day after day, when out of sight, till use Grows second nature, and the pearly row, Will she or will she not, perforce appears.—CUMBERLAND. * * * * * EPICRATES. (Book xiii. § 26, p. 911.)