Mufic has charms to footh a favage breaft,
And therefore proper at a sheriff's feast.
My foul has oft a fecret pleasure found,
In the harmonious bagpipe's lofty found.
Bagpipes for men, fhrill German-Autes for boys,
I'm English born, and love a grumbling noise.
The stage.fhould yield the folemn organ's note,
And scripture tremble in the eunuch's throat.
Let Senefino fing, what David writ,
And hallelujahs charm the pious pit.
Eager in throngs the town to Hefter came,
And Oratorio was a lucky name.
Thou, Heidegger! the English Taste haft found,
And rul'ft the mob of quality with found.
In Lent, if masquerades displease the town,
Call 'em Ridotto's, and they still go down.
Go on prince Phiz! to please the British Nation,
Call thy next Masquerade a Convocation.
Bears, lions, wolves, and elephants I breed,
And Philofophical Transactions read.
Next lodge I'll be Free-mafon, nothing lefs,
Unless I happen to be F. R. S.
I have a palate, and (as yet) two ears,
Fit company for porters or for
Of every useful knowledge I've a fhare,
But my top talent is a bill of fare.
Sir loins and rumps of beef offend my eyes,
Pleas'd with frogs fricaffeed, and coxcomb-pies.
Dishes I chufe though little, yet genteel,
Snails the first course, and peepers crown the meal.
Pigs heads with hair on, much my fancy please,
I love young colly-flow'rs if ftew'd in cheese,
And give ten guineas for a pint of peas.
No tattling fervants to my table come,
My grace is filence, and my waiter dumb.
Queer country-puts extol queen Befs's reign,
And of loft hofpitality complain.
Say thou that doft thy father's table praise,
Was there mahogena in former days?
Oh! could a British barony be fold!
I would bright honour buy with dazzling gold.
Could I the privilege of peer procure,
The rich I'd bully, and opprefs the poor.
To give is wrong, but it is wronger still,
On any terms to pay a tradefman's bill.
I'd make the infolent mechanics stay,
And keep my ready money all for play.
any pleasure could be found,
In toffing up for twenty-thousand pound.
Had I whole counties, I to White's would go,
And fet land, woods, and rivers, at a throw.
But should I meet with an unlucky run,
And at a throw be gloriously undone ;
My debts of honour I'd discharge the first,
Let all my lawful creditors be curs'd:
My title would preferve me from arrest,
And feizing hired horses is a jeft.
I'd walk the morning with an oaken stick,
With gloves and hat, like my own footman, Dick.
A footman I would be, in outward fhow,
In fenfe, and education, truly fo.
As for my head it should ambiguous wear
At once a perriwig and its own hair.
My hair I'd powder in the women's way,
And dress and talk of dreffing more than they.
I'll please the maids of honour, if I can;
Without black velvet breeches, what is man?
I will my skill in button-holes display,
And brag how oft I shift me every day.
Shall I wear cloaths in aukward England made?
And sweat in cloth, to help the woollen trade?
In French embroid❜ry and in Flanders lace
I'll spend the income of a treasurer's place.
Deard's bill for baubles fhall to thousands mount,
And I'd out-di'mond even the di'mond count.
I would convince the world by tawdry cloaths
That belles are lefs effeminate than beaux,
And doctor Lamb fhould pare my lordship's toes.
To boon companions I my time would give,
With players, pimps, and parafites I'd live.
I would with jockeys from Newmarket dine,
And to rough-riders give my choiceft wine;
I would carefs fome ftableman of note,
And imitate his language and his coat.
My ev❜nings all I would with sharpers spend,
And make the thief-catcher my bofom friend.
In Fig the prize-fighter by day delight,
And fup with Colley Cibber every night.
Should I perchance be fashionably ill,
I'd fend for Misaubin, and take his pill.
I should abhor, though in the utmost need,
Arbuthnot, Hollins, Wigan, Lee, or Mead;
But if I found that I grew worse and worse,
I'd turn off Mifaubin and take a nurse.
How oft when eminent phyficians fail,
Do good old women's remedies prevail !
When beauty's gone, and Chloe's ftruck with years,
Eyes fhe can couch, or fhe can fyringe ears.
Of graduates I dislike the learned rout,
And chufe a female doctor for the gout.
Thus would I live, with no dull pedants curs'd,
Sure, of all blockheads, scholars are the worst.
Back to your univerfities, ye fools,
And dangle arguments on ftrings in schools:
Those schools which Universities they call,
"Twere well for England were there none at all.
With eafe that lofs the nation might fuftain,
Supply'd by Goodman's-fields and Drury-lane.
Oxford and Cambridge are not worth one farthing,
Compar'd to Haymarket and Covent-garden:
Quit thofe, ye British youth, and follow thefe,
Turn players all, and take your 'fquires degrees.
Boast not your incomes now, as heretofore,
Ye book-learn'd feats! the theatres have more:
Ye stiff-rump'd heads of colleges be dumb;
A fingle eunuch gets a larger fum.
Have some of you three hundred by the year;
Booth, Rich, and Cibber, twice three thousand clear.
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