Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/178

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To quitt the Town, and for that time, be lost.
My word I keep, we dine, then rising late,
Take coach, which long had waited at the gate.
About the streets, a tedious ramble goe,
To see this Monster, or that wax work show, 40
Or any thing, that may the time bestow.
When by a Church we passe, I ask to stay,
Go in, and my devotions, humbly pay
To that great Pow'r, whom all the wise obey.
Whilst the gay thing, light as her feather' d dresse,
Flys round the Coach, and does each cusheon presse,
Through ev'ry glasse, her sev'ral graces shows,
This, does her face, and that, her shape expose,
To envying beautys, and admiring beauxs.
One stops, and as expected, all extolls, 50
Clings to the door, and on his elbow lolls,
Thrusts in his head, at once to veiw the fair,
And keep his curls from discomposing air,
Then thus proceeds—
My wonder itt is grown
To find Almeria here, and here alone.
Where are the Nymphs, that round you us'd to croud,
Of your long courted approbation proud,
Learning from you, how to erect their hair,
And in perfection, all their habitt wear,
To place a patch, in some peculiar way, 60
That may an unmark'd smile, to sight betray,
And the vast genius of the Sex, display ?
Pitty me then (she crys) and learn the fate
That makes me Porter to a Temple gate;
Ardelia came to Town, some weeks agoe,
Who does on books her rural hours bestow,
And is so rustick in her cloaths and meen,
'Tis with her ungenteel but to be seen,