Engraving

THE HARLOT'S PROGRESS.PLATE II.

 
"Ah! why so vain, though blooming in thy spring,
Thou shining, frail, adorn'd, but wretched thing
Old age will come; disease may come before,
And twenty prove as fatal as threescore!"

SIGISMONDA

 
————————Let the picture rust,
Perhaps Time's price-enhancing dust,—
As statues moulder into earth,
When I'm no more, may mark its worth;
And future connoisseurs may rise,
Honest as ours, and full as wise,
To puff the piece, and painter too,
And make me then what Guido's now.

PLATE XI.THE IDLE 'PRENTICE EXECUTED AT TYBURN.

 

"When fear cometh as desolation, and their destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress cometh upon them, then shall they call upon God, but he will not answer." Proverbs, chapter i. verse 7, 8.

THE YOUNG HEIR TAKING POSSESSION.

 
Oh, vanity of age untoward!
Ever spleeny, ever froward!
Why these bolts and massy chains,
Squint suspicions, jealous pains?
Why, thy toilsome journey o'er,
Lay'st thou up an useless store?
Hope, along with Time is flown;

THE HARLOT'S PROGRESS.PLATE III.

 
"Reproach, scorn, infamy, and hate,
On all thy future steps shall wait;
Thy furor be loath'd by every eye,
And every foot thy presence fly."

MARTIN FOLKES, ESQ.

 

Martin Folkes was a mathematician and antiquary of much celebrity in the philosophical annals of this country. He was at the early age of twenty-four admitted a member of the Royal Society, where he was greatly distinguished. Two years afterwards he was chosen one of the council, and was named by Sir Isaac Newton himself as vice president: he was afterwards elected president, and held this high office till a short time before his death, when he resigned it on account of ill-health.

PLATE XII.THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.

 

"Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honour." Proverbs, chap. iii. ver. 16.

SURROUNDED BY ARTISTS AND PROFESSORS.

 
Prosperity (with harlot's smiles,
Most pleasing when she most beguiles),
How soon, great foe, can all thy train
Of false, gay, frantic, loud, and vain,
Enter the unprovided mind,
And memory in fetters bind?
Load faith and love with golden chain,

THE HARLOT'S PROGRESS.PLATE IV.

 
With pallid cheek and haggard eye,
And loud laments, and heartfelt sigh,
Unpitied, hopeless of relief,
She drinks the bitter cup of grief.
In vain the sigh, in vain the tear,
Compassion never enters here;
But justice clanks her iron chain,
And calls forth shame, remorse, and pain.

THE HARLOT'S PROGRESS.PLATE V.

 
With keen remorse, deep sighs, and trembling fears
Repentant groans, and unavailing tears,
This child of misery resigns her breath,
And sinks, despondent, in the arms of death.
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