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V.

Here an old batter'd Tangieren he beheld,
More mawl'd by Love than e're he was in Field;
Yet wondrous Amorous still, and wondrous gay,
Old January dizen'd up in May;
His Zeals as Trophies of his Victory Graces,
But all adorn'd with many Looking-glasses,

Col. Sachvil.


In which he practises Bon Mein and Faces;
How well to manage Ogling, and what Air
He shou'd maintain, when cock, when frisk his Hair;
What Affectation best wou'd Youth express,
And least the Ruines of his Age confess;
Half-choak'd with monstrous Crevat-string, Disputes
What Colour best to his Complection suits;
And all in Middle Gallery to pore,
And claim which is his Joy, some low-priz'd Whore
Vain self-admiring Fop, tho every day
Thou dost thy antiquated Form survey!
But to be well deceiv'd, cease playing the Ass
Six hours each Morning before a Looking-glass,
And trust the wiser Valet with thy Dress;
For whilst thou dost not that ag'd Face behold,
Thy Dress may flatter thee, thou art not old.