University of Virginia Library

The spawn of this intriguing creature
Was like her Dad in mind and feature;
Rebellious even in the womb,
She fought her way for elbow-room,
And so disorderly her birth,
The suffering mother sunk to earth.
This child, that bad might still be worse,
Was suckled by a bilious nurse,
Who for the breast whene'er she'd call,
Plump'd not her veins with milk but Gall.
A crooked sallow thing she grew,
As artful as a German Jew;
The father lov'd her next his pelf,
In her he saw a second self,
And when that awful summons came,
Which only could his rogueries tame,
He left this darling all his wealth,
Together scrap'd by fraud or stealth;
With which she blazon'd up and down,
A rich Welch Heiress on the town.
But having pass'd her youthful days
In Mischief's dark and winding ways,
E'en sordid Int'rest felt afraid
To court this antiquated maid;
She on mankind returns the slight,
Pursuing them with keenest spite.
The public prints she daily stains
With the sharp venom of her brains,
By sland'rous paragraphs and slurs
Tainting the purest characters.
At ev'ry Rout you'll see her betting,
And all concern'd with her a fretting;
She makes the young, with stifled curses,
And ill-mark'd smiles untie their purses,
Whilst from old Ladies, scarcely able
To waddle out to a card-table,
She slily steals away the Trumps,
Till disappointment bursts their jumps.
On the first night of a new play,
She'd sooner die than be away;
Where circled with her catcall train,
She half distracts the Author's brain.
Oft too her Gorgon head she'll pop,
And Critic sit in Dodsley's shop,
Where half-fledg'd Poets new on wing,
Who've made their first attempt to sing,
Hover unknown, with anxious ear
Th' opinion of the world to hear;
She with sharp tongue condemns their style,
Their thoughts how coarse! their rhymes how vile!
Her fell remarks their Genius stagger,
And ev'ry pointed word's a dagger.
And this is she whose artful pranks
Makes all our Lottery Tickets—Blanks;
Who when our friends or kinsmen die,
Wipes out th' expected legacy,
And gives away, to wound our rest,
The place long hop'd, tho' ne'er possess'd.