To POLLY LAURENCE, quitting the Pump

Spite of beauty, air, and grace, With honour hast thou run thy race! In sunshine well thy part thou'st play'd— Now, sweet Polly, seek the shade.

The prudent general, tho' beat, Reaps honour from a good retreat; But nobler thou, thy thousands kill'd, With flying colours leav'st the field.

Let not retirement give thee spleen, Thy sex's longing—to be seen: But teach the vicious and the vain, Their pleasure's but refining pain.

Teach the gay by thy retreat, Eternal giggle is not wit; And the formal fool advise, Prudery cannot make her wise.

Take with thee to thy private state Th' applauses of the good and great; The best reward below allow'd Of a conduct great and good.