PLAIN
TRUTH
.
By
HENRY
FIELDING
,
Esq
;
AS
Bathian
Venus
t'other
day
Invited
all
the
Gods
to
tea
,
Her
maids
of
honour
,
the
miss
Graces
,
Attending
duely
in
their
places
,
Their
godships
gave
a
loose
to
mirth
,
As
we
at
Butt'ring's
here
on
earth
.
Minerva
in
her
usual
way
Rallied
the
daughter
of
the
sea
.
Madam
,
said
she
,
your
lov'd
resort
,
The
city
where
you
hold
your
court
,
Is
lately
fallen
from
its
duty
,
And
triumphs
more
in
wit
than
beauty
;
For
here
,
she
cried
;
see
here
a
poem
—
'Tis
Dalston's
;
you
,
Apollo
,
know
him
.
Little
persuasion
sure
invites
Pallas
to
read
what
Dalston
writes
:
Nay
,
I
have
heard
that
in
Parnassus
For
truth
a
current
whisper
passes
,
That
Dalston
sometimes
has
been
known
To
publish
her
works
as
his
own
.
Minerva
read
,
and
every
God
Approv'd
—
Jove
gave
the
critic
nod
:
Apollo
and
the
sacred
Nine
Were
charm'd
,
and
smil'd
at
ev'ry
line
;
And
Mars
,
who
little
understood
,
Swore
,
d—n
him
,
if
it
was
not
good
.
Venus
alone
sat
all
the
while
Silent
,
nor
deign'd
a
single
smile
.
All
were
surpriz'd
:
some
thought
her
stupid
:
Not
so
her
confident
'squire
Cupid
;
For
well
the
little
rogue
discern'd
At
what
his
mother
was
concern'd
,
Yet
not
a
word
the
urchin
said
,
But
hid
in
Hebe's
lap
his
head
.
At
length
the
rising
choler
broke
From
Venus'
lips
,
—
and
thus
she
spoke
,
That
poetry
so
cram'd
with
wit
,
Minerva
,
shou'd
your
palate
hit
,
I
wonder
not
,
nor
that
some
prudes
(
For
such
there
are
above
the
clouds
)
Shou'd
wish
the
prize
of
beauty
torn
From
her
they
view
with
envious
scorn
.
Me
poets
never
please
,
but
when
Justice
and
truth
direct
their
pen
.
This
Dalston
—
formerly
I've
known
him
;
Henceforth
for
ever
I
disown
him
;
For
Homer's
wit
shall
I
despise
In
him
who
writes
with
Homer's
eyes
.
A
poem
on
the
fairest
fair
At
Bath
,
and
Betty's
name
not
there
!
Hath
not
this
poet
seen
those
glances
In
which
my
wicked
urchin
dances
?
Nor
that
dear
dimple
,
where
he
treats
Himself
with
all
Arabia's
sweets
;
In
whose
soft
down
while
he
reposes
In
vain
the
lillies
bloom
,
or
roses
,
To
tempt
him
from
a
sweeter
bed
Of
fairer
white
or
livelier
red
?
Hath
he
not
seen
,
when
some
kind
gale
Has
blown
aside
the
cambric
veil
,
That
seat
of
paradise
,
where
Jove
Might
pamper
his
almighty
love
?
Our
milky
way
less
fair
does
shew
:
There
summer's
seen
'twixt
hills
of
snow
.
From
her
lov'd
voice
whene'er
she
speaks
,
What
softness
in
each
accent
breaks
!
And
when
her
dimpled
smiles
arise
,
What
sweetness
sparkles
in
her
eyes
!
Can
I
then
bear
,
enrag'd
she
said
,
Slights
offer'd
to
my
fav'rite
maid
,
The
nymph
whom
I
decreed
to
be
The
representative
of
me
?
The
Goddess
ceas'd
—
the
Gods
all
bow'd
,
Nor
one
the
wicked
bard
avow'd
,
Who
,
while
in
beauty's
praise
he
writ
,
Dar'd
Beauty's
Goddess
to
omit
:
For
now
their
godships
recollected
,
'Twas
Venus'
self
he
had
neglected
,
Who
in
her
visits
to
this
place
Had
still
worn
Betty
Dalston's
face
.