This Satire was printed about the Year 1704, in a Collection of fatirical Poems. A Piece which is not deficient in Wit and Fancy, and has many happy Strokes of Humour, deferves to be refcued from Oblivion.

I have endeavoured, but in vain, to learn the Name of the Author.

EAR to the Rofe, where Punks in Numbers flock
To

No pick up Cullies to increafe the Stock,

Ν

A lofty Fabrick does the Sight invade,

And ftretches round the Place a pompous Shade, Where fudden Shouts the Neighbourhood surprise, And Thurd'ring Claps and dreadful Hiffings rife.

Here thrifty Rhires Monarchs by the Day, And keeps his Mercenary Kings in Pay,

With deep mouth'd Actors fills the Vacant Scenes, And drains the Town for Goddeffes and Queens: Here the lewd Punk, with Crowns and Sceptres grac'd, Teaches her Eyes a more Majeftick Caft,

* Chriftopher Rich, Efq, Father of the late John Rish Patentee of Covent Garden Theatre.

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And

And hungry Monarchs, with a numerous Train
Of fuppliant Slaves, like Sancho, starve and reign.
But enter in, my Mufe, the Stage furvey,
And all its Pomp and Pageantry display;
Trap-doors and Pit-falls form th'unfaithful Ground,
And magick Walls encompafs it around:
On either Side maim'd Temples fill our Eyes,
And intermixt with Brothel-houses rise;
Disjointed Palaces in Order stand,

And Groves obedient to the Mover's Hand
O'erfhade the Stage, and flourish at Command.
A Stamp makes broken Towns and Trees eptire:
So when Amphion struck the vocal Lire,

He faw the fpacious Circuit all around

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With crowding Woods, and neighbouring Cities crown'd.

But next the Tiring-room furvey and fee
Falfe Titles, and promifcuous Quality,

Confus'dly warm, from Heroes,, and from Queens,
To thofe that fwing in Clouds, and fill Machines;
Their various Characters they chufe with Art,
The frowning Bully fits the Tyrant's Part:
Swoln Cheeks, and fwaggering Belly, makes a Hoft,
Pale, meagre Looks, and hollow Voice, a Ghoft;
From careful Brows, and heavy down-caft Eyes,
Dull Cits, and thick fcull'd Aldermen, arife:
The Comick Tone, infpir'd by * Fr, draws
At every Word loud Laughter and Applause :
The mincing Dame continues as before,
Her Character's unchang'd, and acts a Whore.
Above the Reft the Prince with mighty Stalks,
Magnificent in purple Bufkins walks:
The royal Robe his haughty Shoulders grace,
Proufe of Spangles and of Copper Lace:
Officious Rafcals to his mighty Thigh,
Guiltless of Blood, th'unpointed Weapon tie

Perhaps Farqubar.

Then

Then the gay glittering Diadem put on,

Pondrous with Brafs, and starr'd with Bristol Stone.
His royal Confort next confults her Glass,
And out of twenty Boxes culls a Face.

The Whit'ning firft her ghaftly Looks befmears,
All pale and wan th'unfinish'd Form appears;
Till on her Cheeks the blufhing Purple glows,
And a falfe Virgin Modesty bestows;

}

Her ruddy Lips the deep Vermillion dyes;
Length to her Brows the Pencil's Touch fupplies,
And with black bending Arches fhades her Eyes.
Well pleas'd, at length the Picture she beholds,
And spots it o'er with artificial Molds; §
Her Countenance compleat, the Beaux the warms
With Looks not hers, and spite of Nature charms.
Thus artfully their Perfons they difguife,
Till the laft Flourish bids the Curtain rife.
The Prince then enters on the Stage in State,
Behind a Guard of Candle-fnuffers wait:
There fwoln with Empire, terrible and fierce,
He shakes the Dome, and tears his Lungs with Verfe:
His Subjects tremble, the fubmiffive Pit
Wrapt up in Silence and Attention fit;
Till freed at length, he lays afide the Weight
Of publick Bufinefs and Affairs of State,
Forgets his Pomp, dead to ambitious Fires,
And to fome peaceful Brandy Shop retires,
Where in full Gills his anxious Thoughts he drowns,
And quaffs away the Care that waits on Crowns.
The Princess next her pointed Charms displays,
Where every Look the Pencil's Art betrays.
The Callow Squire at diftance feeds his Eyes,
And filently for Paint and Patches dies;
But if the Youth behind the Scenes retreat,
He fees the blended Colours melt with Heat,
And all the trickling Beauty run in Sweat.
The borrow'd Vifage he admires no more,
And nauseates every Charm he lov'd before:

So the fame Spear, for double Force renown'd,
Apply'd the Remedy that gave the Wound.
In tedious Lifts 'twere endless to engage,
And draw at length the Rabble of the Stage,
Where one for twenty Years has given Alarms,
And call'd contending Monarchs to their Arms.
Another fills a more important Poft,

And rifes every other Night a Ghost.

Thro' the cleft Stage his meager Face he rears, Then stalks along, groans thrice, and disappears; Others with Swords and Shields, the Soldiers Pride, More than a thousand Times have chang'd their Side,

And in a thousand fatal Battles dy'd.

Thus feveral Perfons feveral Parts perform;
Pale Lovers whine, and blustering Heroes storm,
The stern exafperated Tyrants rage,

Till the kind Bowl of Poifon clears the Stage;
Then Honours vanifh, and Diftinctions ceafe;
Then with Reluctance haughty Queens undress.
Heroes no more their fading Laurels boast,
And mighty Kings in private Men are lost.

He whom fuch Titles fwell'd, fuch Power made proud, To whom whole Realms and vanquifh'd Nations bow'd,

Throws off the gaudy Plume, the purple Train,
And is in Statu quo himself again.

FACTION

FACTION DISPLAYED:

A

SATIR E.

In a printed Copy of the following Poem which was published foon after the Death of King William, I have feen written, the Name of W. Shippen, Efq. This I must confefs does not bear fufficient Authority to fix it upon that Gentleman, whofe Principles indeed were well known; nor can it be doubted that he was a staunch Tory. But the Writer of Faction Difplayed feems to be an utter Stranger to the moderate and patriotic Views attributed to W. Shippen: His Satire is fometimes extremely virulent, and often degenerates into meer Abuse. The Poem is upon many Accounts very curious: It gives no ill Picture of the Times in which it was written. We are prefented with a Groupe of Characters remarkable for their Attachment to the illuftrious Houfe of Hanover, who were employed in the moft eminent Pofts of the Government during the first eight Years of Queen Ann's Reign.

The Character of the famous Marquis of Wharton feems to be the Outline of Pope's masterly Defcription of the Duke his Son.

The Poetry of this Piece is very unequal: It fometimes rifes to a juft Height, and at other Times finks into profaic Flatnefs.

The Characters are often overcharged, and aggravated into Caricaturas: fuch are those of the Earl of

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Halifax,