Madamoiselle Du Par, No. 19, Carlisle-street, Soho.
Dieux; qu'a t-il vu, que d'appas enchanteurs!
Sous un bosquet, d'ou coule une fountaine,
Ou chaque mois le doux printemps ramene;
Pour nos plaisirs, l'abondance & les fleurs,
It voit un trou, le joli precipice;
Ce n'etact point le trou de saint Patrice.
This lady has lately been a teacher in a French boarding school, but taking a liking to a young Clergyman in the neighbourhood, she made a conjunction of calvanism with the established church, and he propagated the gospel in her foreign parts with great assiduity; but her immoderate love of the sport, after having once tasted the power of the British constitution, speedily brought her to our market, here to her great discredit and loss she has form'd a connection with a boy by the name of N—wb—y, brother to the noted attorney well known as a flash man among the ladies, and one whose principles will not bear the strictest scrutiny. She is a tall, genteel looking figure, speaks English pretty well, fine dark eyes and hair, a tolerable complexion, thanks to Mr. Warren, who occasionally fills up those indentions the small pox has been busy in making, and makes her a desirable piece enough. Her low countries are said to be of ample dimensions, and she is so publick spirited, that she makes no distinction of persons or nations; but will say, je vous remercie, to any man for the smallest piece of gold.