Yet these were all poor gentlemen! I dare Affirm, 'twas travel made them what they were."Thus others' talents having nicely shown, He came by sure transition to his own:
Till I cried out: "You prove yourself so able, Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel;For had they found a linguist half so good I make no question but the tower had stood.""Obliging sir! for courts you sure were made:
Why then for ever buried in the shade?
Spirits like you should see and should be seen, The King would smile on you--at least the Queen.""Ah, gentle sir! you courtiers so cajole us--But Tully has it, Nunquam minus solus:
And as for courts, forgive me, if I say No lessons now are taught the Spartan way:
Though in his pictures lust be full displayed, Few are the converts Aretine has made;And though the Court show vice exceeding clear, None should, by my advice, learn virtue there."At this entranced, he lifts his hands and eyes, Squeaks like a high-stretched lutestring, and replies:
"Oh, 'tis the sweetest of all earthly things To gaze on princes, and to talk of kings!""Then, happy man who shows the tombs!" said I, "He dwells amidst the Royal Family;He every day, from king to king can walk, Of all our Harries, all our Edwards talk, And get by speaking truth of monarchs dead, What few can of the living, ease and bread.""Lord, sir, a mere mechanic! strangely low, And coarse of phrase--your English all are so.
How elegant your Frenchmen?" "Mine, d'ye mean?
I have but one, I hope the fellow's clean.""Oh! sir, politely so! nay, let me die, Your only wearing is your Paduasoy.""Not, sir, my only, I have better still, And this you see is but my dishabille--."Wild to get loose, his patience I provoke, Mistake, confound, object at all he spoke.
But as coarse iron, sharpened, mangles more, And itch most hurts when angered to a sore;So when you plague a fool, 'tis still the curse, You only make the matter worse and worse.
He past it o'er; affects an easy smile At all my peevishness, and turns his style.
He asks, "What news?" I tell him of new plays, New eunuchs, harlequins, and operas.
He hears, and as a still with simples in it Between each drop it gives, stays half a minute, Loth to enrich me with too quick replies, By little and by little drops his lies.
Mere household trash! of birth-nights, balls, and shows, More than ten Holinsheds, or Halls, or Stowes.
When the Queen frowned, or smiled, he knows; and what A subtle minister may make of that;Who sins with whom: who got his pension rug, Or quickened a reversion by a drug;Whose place is quartered out, three parts in four, And whether to a bishop, or a w***e;Who having lost his credit, pawned his rent, Is therefore fit to have a Government;Who in the secret, deals in stocks secure, And cheats the unknowing widow and the poor;Who makes a trust or charity a job, And gets an Act of Parliament to rob;Why turnpikes rise, and now no cit nor clown Can gratis see the country, or the town;Shortly no lad shall chuck, or lady vole, But some excising courtier will have toll.
He tells what strumpet places sells for life, What 'squire his lands, what citizen his wife:
And last (which proves him wiser still than all)What lady's face is not a whited wall.
As one of Woodward's patients, sick, and sore, I puke, I nauseate--yet he thrusts in more:
Trims Europe's balance, tops the statesman's part, And talks gazettes and post-boys o'er by heart.
Like a big wife at sight of loathsome meat Ready to cast, I yawn, I sigh and sweat.
Then as a licensed spy, whom nothing can Silence or hurt, he libels the great man;Swears every place entailed for years to come, In sure succession to the day of doom;He names the price for every office paid, And says our wars thrive ill, because delayed;Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the Court, That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a port.
Not more amazement seized on Circe's guests, To see themselves fall endlong into beasts, Than mine, to find a subject staid and wise Already half turned traitor by surprise.
I felt the infection slide from him to me, As in the ---- some give it to get free;And quick to swallow me, methought I saw One of our giant statutes ope its jaw.
In that nice moment, as another lie Stood just a-tilt, the minister came by.
To him he flies, and bows, and bows again, Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train.
Not Fannius' self more impudently near, When half his nose is in his Prince's ear.
I quaked at heart; and still afraid, to see All the Court filled with stranger things than he, Ran out as fast as one that pays his bail And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
Bear me, some god! oh, quickly bear me hence To wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense:
Where Contemplation plumes her ruffled wings, And the free soul looks down to pity kings!
There sober thought pursued the amusing theme, Till fancy coloured it, and formed a dream.
A vision hermits can to hell transport, And forced even me to see the damned at Court.
Not Dante dreaming all the infernal state, Beheld such scenes of envy, sin, and hate.
Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free;Suits tyrants, plunderers, but suits not me:
Shall I, the terror of this sinful town, Care, if a liveried lord or smile or frown?
Who cannot flatter, and detest who can, Tremble before a noble serving-man?
O, my fair mistress, Truth! shall I quit thee For huffing, braggart, puffed nobility?
Thou, who since yesterday hast rolled o'er all The busy, idle blockheads of the ball, Hast thou, oh, sun! beheld an emptier fort, Than such who swell this bladder of a Court?
Now plague on those who show a Court in wax!
It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs:
Such painted puppets! such a varnished race Of hollow gewgaws, only dress and face!
Such waxen noses, stately staring things--No wonder some folks bow, and think them kings.
See! where the British youth, engaged no more At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a bore, Pay their last duty to the Court and come All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room;In hues as gay, and odours as divine, As the fair fields they sold to look so fine.
