And Counsellors find out some modern Querk,
To raise the Guinea, and to see the _Grot_,
And 'mongst the _Belles_ to slant it at _Ridolt_.

Here Seamstresses and Maids together vie,
And the spruce 'Prentice shines in Sword and Tye:
Bandy'd in Lace the City Dame appears,
Her Hair genteelly frizzled round her Ears;
Her Gown with _Tyrian_ Dyes most richly stain'd,
Glitt'ring with Orient Pearl from Orphans gain'd.

_My Lord_, to oblige his Spouse, takes Tickets three,
Crys, one's for you my Love, and one for me,
The third dispose as you shall best adjudge,
Shew where you're pleas'd, and where you owe a Grudge:
_Madam_ elate, thinks she'll be kind to _Betty_,
To hide the Slips she made with Spark i'th' City:
But _Stallion Tom_, who well knew how to scold,
And by his Mistress's Favour grown too bold,
Swears if _he_ has it not, he will reveal,
And to his Master tell a dismal Tale;
_Madam_, reluctant, gives him up the Paper;
He at her Folly laughs, and cuts a Caper.

_Sylvia_, a Lady, kept by twenty Beaux,
Who never yet could brook the Marriage Noose,
By each a Ticket offer'd, scorns 'em all,
In hopes some Fool at last will Victim fall,
And, kindly offer Treat and Ticket too,
Which to her Charms she thinks most justly due;
At last a brisk young _Templar_ full of Fire,
Whom Writs with _Money_, Wine with Love inspire,
Address'd the Dame, she yeilds his glowing Charms,
And for a Ticket flies into his Arms:

So every _dapper Fop_ and _brawny Rake_
Will Tickets to their Ladies Presents make;
To Sin, the only certain Dedication,
To every gentle Mistress in the Nation,
From Suburb Whore, to ranting Dame of Fashion;
For none's so niece as to refuse the Suit,
But grasps the Tree tho' 'tis _forbidden Fruit_.

_Near_ where _the Thames_ in pleasant Windings runs,
_Near_ where the famous Glass-house fiercely burns,
(Which to the Love of poor desponding Swains,
An Emblem terrible, but just retains.)
_Near_ where fam'd _Vaux_ was to have fled,
_With_ lighted Match, soon as he'd done the Deed;
Whence some pretend to say by second Sight,
That it foreshew'd the Fate attends this Night,
'Cause here the Fair will many _Matches light_.

_Spring-Gardens_ lie shaded with verdant Trees,
That nod their reverend Heads at every Breeze;
Embassadors like _Turks_ hence send Express,
And _Ministers of State_ like Devils dress--

Should