Corrupts our virgins, and our youth ensnares; So sunk her character, and lost her fame, Scarce visited before your Highness came: Yet for the bedchamber 'tis she you choose, Whilst zeal, and lame, and virtue you refuse. Ah, worthy choice; not one of all your train Which censures blast not, or dishonours stain. I know the Court, with all its treacherous wiles, The false caresses, and undoing smiles. 50 Ah, Princess! learn'd in all the courtly arts, To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts.' TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE. 1 In beauty or wit, No mortal as yet To question your empire has dared; But men of discerning Have thought that in learning To yield to a lady was hard. 2 Impertinent schools, With musty dull rules, Have reading to females denied: So Papists refuse The Bible to use, Lest flocks should be wise as their guide. 3 'Twas a woman at first (Indeed she was cursed) In knowledge that tasted delight, And sages agree The laws should decree To the first possessor the right. 4 Then bravely, fair dame, Resume the old claim, Which to your whole sex does belong; And let men receive, From a second bright Eve, The knowledge of right and of wrong. 5 But if the first Eve Hard doom did receive, When only one apple had she, What a punishment new Shall be found out for you, Who, tasting, have robb'd the whole tree! EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES ON A PORTRAIT OF LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE, PAINTED BY KNELLER. The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, That happy air of majesty and truth, So would I draw: but, oh! 'tis vain to try, My narrow genius does the power deny; The equal lustre of the heavenly mind, Where every grace with every virtue's join'd: Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe, With greatness easy, and with wit sincere; With just description show the soul divine, And the whole princess in my work should shine. LINES SUNG BY DURASTANTI, WHEN SHE TOOK LEAVE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. 1 Generous, gay, and gallant nation, Bold in arms, and bright in arts; Land secure from all invasion, All but Cupid's gentle darts! From your charms, oh! who would run? Who would leave you for the sun? Happy soil, adieu, adieu! 2 Let old charmers yield to new; In arms, in arts, be still more shining: All your joys be still increasing; All your tastes be still refining; All your jars for ever ceasing; But let old charmers yield to new: Happy soil, adieu, adieu! UPON THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH'S HOUSE AT WOODSTOCK. 'See, sir, here's the grand approach, This way is for his Grace's coach: There lies the bridge, and here's the clock, Observe the lion and the cock, The spacious court, the colonnade, And mark how wide the hall is made! The chimneys are so well design'd, They never smoke in any wind. This gallery's contrived for walking, The windows to retire and talk in; The council chamber for debate, And all the rest are rooms of state.'