472 PORTRAIT-GALLERY OF OLD BACHELORS. 



ignorant how grateful it is to gaze upon any lovely object. Though 

 your crabbed temper may refuse to associate with them, you are not 

 so unjust to yourself as to shut your eyes to this part of their excel- 

 lences." 



"Humph! a likely story, I warrant; why, my sweet friend, I 

 tell thee there is no such thing as beauty iii the world, much less 

 that woman, its foulest spot, should possess any such commodity. It 

 is true they may patch and paint, and make a decent daylight or 

 candle-light picture of themselves, but that is all ; they are es- 

 sentially a deformity, and 



' Deformity seems not in the fiend 

 So horrid as in woman.' 



Beauty, forsooth ! why, you simpleton, they are mere patchwork, 

 for 



' Celia goes to bed entire, 



All her complexion safe and sound ; 

 But when she rose, white, black, and red, 



Though still in sight, had changed their ground. 

 The black, which would not be confined, 



A more inferior station seeks, 

 Leaving the fiery red behind, 



And mingles in her muddy cheeks. 

 But Celia can with ease reduce, 



By help of pencil, paint, and brush, 

 Each colour to its place and use, 



And teach her cheeks again to blush. 

 She knows her early self no more, 



But fill'd with admiration stands : 

 As other painters oft adore 



The workmanship of their own hands. 

 Thus after four important hours, 



Celia 's the wonder of her sex : 

 Say which among the heavenly powers 



Could cause such marvellous effects. 

 Love with white-lead cements his wings : 



White-lead was sent us to repair 

 Two brightest, brittlest, earthly things 



A lady's face, and china-ware/ 



Faugh ! beauty indeed a proper tale, Faugh ! 



' A pair of tweezers next he found, 

 To pluck her brows in arches round, 

 Or hairs that sink her forehead low, 

 Or on her chin like bristles grow.' 



Beauty, ay ! ay ! 



' A glass that can to sight disclose 

 The smallest worm in Celia's nose, 



