* 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.