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Such, such emotions should in Britons rise,
] See Dunciad, Note on v. 63. B. I.
VER. 13. & defpirate Bulwark, etc.) See Dunc. Note on v. 268. B. II.
Ver. 16. And hook the Stage with Thunders all his own !] See Dunc. Note on v. 226. B. II.
. 17. Stood up to dash, etc.] See Dunc. Note on y. 173. B. III.
Ver. 18. Maul the French Tyrant-] See Dunc, Note on v 413. B. II.
Ibid. or pull down the Pope !) See Dunc. Note on v. 63. B.I.
Ver. 21. If there's a critic of distinguish'd rage.] See Dunc. Notes on y. 106. B. I,
M A A C E R: CH A R A C T E R.
THEN simple Macer, now of high renown,
First sought a Poet's Fortune in the Town, 'Twas all th' Ambition his high foul could feel, To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steel. Some Ends of verse his Betters might afford, And gave the harmless fellow a good word. Set up
with thefe, he ventur'd on the Town, And with a borrow'd Play, out-did poor Crowli. There he stop'd short, nor since has writ a tittle, But has the wit to make the most of little: Like stunted hide-bound Trees, that just have got Sufficient sap at once to bear and rot. Now he begs Verse, and what he gets commends, Not of the Wits his foes, but Fools his friends. 14
So some coarse Country Wench, almost decay'd, Trudges to town, and first turns Chambermaid ; Aukward and supple, each devoir to pay; She flatters her good Lady twice a day; Thought wond'rous honest, tho' of mean degree, And strangely lik’d for her Simplicity: In a translated Suit, then tries the Town, With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own : But just endur'd the winter she began, And in four months a batter'd Harridan. Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and thrunk, To bawd for others, and go shares with Punk.
TOW much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceiv'd by thews and forms! Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All Humankind are Worms.
Man is a very Worm by birth,
Vile, Reptile, weak, and vain! A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.
That Woman is a Worm, we find
E're fince our Grandame's evil? She first convers'd with her own kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.
The Learn'd themselves we Book-worms name,
Tlic Blockhead is a Slow. worm; The Nymph whose tail is all on flame,
Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm:
The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That futter for a day ;
And in a Worm decay.
The Flatterer an Earwig grows;
Thus Worms fuit all conditions ;
And Death-watches Physicians.
That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen,
By all their winding-play ;
That gnaws them night and day,
And greater gain would rise,
The Worm that never dies !
O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane,
Who sett'ft our entrails free? Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,
Since Worms shall eat ev'n thee.
Our Fate thou only can'st adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Who Maggots were before.
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart ;
Nature must give Way to Art.
Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth :
Gor'd with unrelenting Tooth.
Fair Discretion, string the Lyre;
Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir.