Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/72

62 From gold brocade and shining armour, Was metamorphos'd to a farmer; His grazier's coat with dirt besmear'd; Nor twice a week will shave his beard. Old Robin, all his youth a sloven, At fifty-two, when he grew loving, Clad in a coat of paduasoy, A flaxen wig, and waistcoat gay, Powder'd from shoulder down to flank, In courtly style addresses Frank; Twice ten years older than his wife, Is doom'd to be a beau for life; Supplying those defects by dress, Which I must leave the world to guess.

UEEN of wit and beauty, Betty! Never may the Muse forget ye: How thy face charms every shepherd. Spotted over like a leopard! And thy freckled neck, display'd, Envy breeds in every maid; Like a fly-blown cake of tallow, Or on parchment ink turn'd yellow; Or a tawny speckled pippin, Shrivel'd with a winter's keeping. And, thy beauty thus despatch'd, Let me praise thy wit unmatch'd. Sets of phrases, cut and dry, Evermore thy tongue supply. And