*

 Courage, dear Moll, and drive away despair.
 Mopsa, who in her youth was scarce thought fair,
 In spite of age, experience, and decays,
 Sets up for charming in her fading days;
 Snuffs her dim eyes to give one parting blow,
 Have at the heart of every ogling beau!
 This goodly goose, all feather'd like a jay,
 So gravely vain and so demurely gay,
 Last night, to grace the Court, did overload
 Her bald buff forehead with a high commode;
 Her steps were manag'd with such tender art,
 As if each board had been a lover's heart.
 In all her air, in every glance, was seen
 A mixture strange, 'twixt fifty and fifteen.
 Crowds of admiring fops about her press;
 Hampden himself delivers their address,
 Which she, accepting with a nice disdain,
 Owns them her subjects and begins to reign.
 Fair Queen of Fopland is her royal stile --
 Fopland! the greatest part of this great isle!

 Nature did ne'er more equally divide
 A female heart, 'twixt piety and pride.
 Her watchful maids prevent the peep of day,
 And all in order on her toilet lay:
 Prayer books and patch box, sermon notes and paint,
 At once t'improve the sinner and the saint.
 Farewell, friend Moll: expect no more from me;
 But if you would a full description see,
 You'll find her somewhere in the litany,
 With pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy.