80

Yet these were all poor Gentlemen! I dare
Affirm, 'twas Travel made them what they were.
Thus others talents having nicely fhown,
He came by fure tranfition to his own:
Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself fo able,
Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel;.
For had they found a linguist half fo good
I make no question but the Tow'r had stood.
"Obliging Sir! for Courts you fure were made:
Why then for ever bury'd in the shade?

Spirits like you, fhould fee and fhould be feen,

85

90

"The King would fmile on you--at least the Queen.
Ah gentle Sir! your Courtiers fo cajol us-
But Tully has it, Nunquam minus folus:
And as for Courts, forgive me, if I fay
No leffons now are taught the Spartan way,
Tho' in his pictures Luft be full difplay'd,
Few are the Converts Aretine has made:
And tho' the Court fhow Vice exceeding clear,
None should, by my advice, learn Virtue there.
At this entranc'd, he lifts his hands and eyes,
Squeaks like a high-stretch'd luteftring, and replies,
"Oh 'tis the fweeteft of all earthly things

"To gaze on Princes, and to talk of Kings!
Then, happy Man who shows the Tombs! faid I,
He dwells amidst the royal Family;

He ev'ry day from King to King can walk,
Of all our Harries, all our Edwards talk,

95

100

105

Your ears fhall hear nought but Kings; your eyes

meet

Kings only the way to it is Kings-street.

He fmack'd, and cry'd, He's bafe, mechanique,

coarse,

So are all your Englishmen in their discourse,

Are not your Frenchmen neat? Mine, as you fee, I have but one, Sir, look, he follows me.

Certes they are neatly cloth'd. I of this mind am, Your only wearing is your Grogaram.

Not fo, Sir, I have more.

Under this pitch

He would not fly; I chaf'd him: but as Itch
Scratch'd into smart, and as blunt Iron ground
Into an edge, hurts worfe: So, I (fool) found,
Croffing hurt me. To fit my fullennefs,

He to another key his ftyle doth dress;

And asks what news; I tell him of new playes,
He takes my hand, and as a Still which stayes
A Sembrief, 'twixt each drop, he niggardly,
As loth to inrich me, fo tells many a ly.
More than ten Hollenfheads, or Halls, or Stows,
Of trivial houshold trash: He knows, he knows

And get by speaking truth of monarchs dead, What few can of the living, Ease and Bread. "Lord, Sir, a meer Mechanic; strangely low, "And coarfe of phrafe,-your English all are fo. "How elegant your Frenchmen ?" Mine, d'ye mean? I have but one, I hope the fellow's clean. "Oh! Sir, politely fo! nay, let me die, "Your only wearing is your Padua-foy." Not, Sir, my only, I have better still,

And this

you fee is but my difhabille-
Wild to get loofe, his patience I provoke,
Miftake, confound, object at all he spoke.
But as coarse iron, fharpen'd, mangles more,
And itch most hurts when anger'd to a fore;
So when you plague a fool, 'tis ftill the curfe,
You only make the matter worfe and worse.

III

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120

He past it o'er; affects an easy fmile At all my peevishness, and turns his style. He asks, "What News? I tell him of new Plays, New Eunuchs, Harlequins, and Operas.

125

He hears, and as a Still with fimples in it

Between each drop it gives, stays half a minute,
Loth to inrich me with too quick replies,

By little, and by little, drops his lies.

Meer houfhold trash! of birth-nights, balls, and fhows,

More than ten Hollinfheads, or Halls, or Stows.

When the Queen frown'd or fmil'd, and he knows what

A fubtle Statesman may gather of that;

He knows who loves whom; and who by poison
Hafts to an offices reverfion;

Who waftes in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes,
Who loveth whores

He knows who hath fold his land, and now doth beg A licence, old iron, boots, fhoes, and egge

Shells to tranfport;

fhortly boys shall not play

At fpan-counter, or blow point, but shall pay
Toll to fome Courtier; and wiser than all us,
He knows what Lady is not painted. Thus
He with home meats cloyes me. I belch, fpue, fpit,
Look pale and fickly, like a Patient, yet

He thrufts on more, and as he had undertook,
To fay Gallo-Belgicus without book,

VER. 151. What Lady's face, etc.] The Original is here very humorous.

This torrent of fcandel concludes thus,
And wifer than all thus,

He knows what Lady

the reader expects it will conclude,---what Lady is painted. No, just the contrary,

what Lady is not painted,

fatirically infinuating, that that is a better Proof of the goodnefs of his intelligence than the other. The Reader fees there is greater force in the use of these plain words, than in 4

When the Queen frown'd, or smil'd, he knows; and

what

A fubtle Minister may make of that:

Who fins with whom: who got

his Penfion rug,

135

Or quicken'd a Reversion by a drug:

Whofe place is quarter'd out, three parts in four,

And whether to a Bishop, or a Whore:

Who having loft his credit, pawn'd his rent,

Is therefore fit to have a Government :

Who in the fecret, deals in Stocks fecure,
And cheats th'unknowing Widow and the Poor :
Who makes a Truft of Charity a Job,
And gets an Act of Parliament to rob:
Why Turnpikes rife, and now no Cit nor Clown
Can gratis fee the country, or the town:
Shortly no lad fhall chuck, or lady vole,
But fome excifing Courtier will have toll.
He tells what strumpet places fells for life,
What 'Squire his lands, what citizen his wife:
At laft (which proves him wiser still than all)
What Lady's face is not a whited wall.

140

As one of Woodward's patients, fick, and fore, I puke, I nauseate,-yet he thrufts in more:

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150

those which the Imitator employs. And the reason is, because the fatire does not turn upon the odio fnefs of painting; in which case the terms of a painted wall had given force to the expreffion; but upon the frequency of it, which required only the fimple name,