Classic Poem

Beauty's less Taking, for its Lasting long,
Since nothing's Beauty, but what's Fresh, and Young;
The same Face still, tho' ne'r so good, is bad,
Beauties are such, by various Good-Looks made,
Coarse Meats are Dainties, which, we ne'r yet had;
Green Fruit is priz'd thus, at first coming more,
Not as 'tis best, but as ne'r seen before;
Better were Frowns, than Smiles, or Sweet-Looks still,
Still the same Posture, (tho' a Good One) 's ill;
The best Eyes, which are fix'd in any Head,
Instead of striking Dead, will go for Dead;
In Form alone, true Beauty, does not lie,
Nor in Good-Looks, but their Variety;
Thy formal Mien still, still thy gloting Eyes,
Wou'd make one's Stomach, not one's Vigour rise;
Eternal Mumping, Sighing, Languishing,
Qualms o'er our Hearts, to make us spue, wou'd bring;
Wou'd make one sick of Love, and not with Love,
Our Passion rather, wou'd remove than move,
Wou'd our Aversion, not our Liking prove;
Once in thy Life, to please thy Lovers frown,
Since thy Good-Looks on all, to most are grown
Nauceous; since kind to all, are lik'd by none;
Obliging none, for being general,
Disgusting all, striving to please us all;
Your ever constant, gloting, twinkling Eye,
Which does on all Men look so lovingly,
Gives each Particular, Inconstancy;
Your Face, which lasts still, to Mankind, the same,
I think not for your Honour, but your Shame;
A lasting Beauty, one way only, we
Can judge you, (most affected thing!) to be;
Your Affectations never will decay,
Altho' your Artificial Beauty may;
Which, as your Charms grow less, but more increase,
To make you find, (seeking more Honour) less;
Thus you, by seeking in Old Charms, New Arts,
To take our Eyes more, loss but more our Hearts;
New Vernishing, so, to the good Old Face,
As to the good Old Picture, ever was,
Of its best Ornament, its worst Disgrace;
Like good Old Pictures, good Old Faces so,
Of less Worth, by new mending them, will grow,
But more Defects, in hiding them, to show.