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Me, who have fill'd your empty coffers,
Me, who'd so many better offers;
And is my merit thus regarded,
Cuckold, my virtue thus rewarded ?
O 'lis past sufferance-Mary-Mary,
I faint—the citron, or the clary.”
The poor man, who had bought the creature
Out of pure conjugal good-nature,
Stood at this violent attack,
Like statutes made by Roubiliac :
Though form'd beyond all skill antique,
They can't their marble silence break;
They only breathe, and think, and start,
Astonish'd at their maker's art.
Quoth Mag, “ Fair Grizzle, I must grant,
Your spouse a magpie cannot want :
For troth (to give the devil his due)
He keeps a rookery in you.
Don't fear I'll tarry long, sweet lady,
Where there is din enough already!
We never should agree together,
Although we'er so much of a feather ;
You’re fond of peace, no man can doubt it,
Who make such wondrous noise about it,
And your tongue of immortal mould
Proclaims in thunder you're no scold.
Yes, yes, you're sovereign of the tongue,
And, like the king, can do no wrong ;
Justly your spouse restrains his voice,
Nor vainly answers words with noise ;
This storm, which no soul can endure,
Requires a very different cure;
For such your verjuice dispositions,
Your crabsticks are the best physicians.”
THE CITIZEN AND THE RED LION OF BRENTFORD.
I love my friend—but love my ease,
And claim a right myself to please ;
To company however prone,
At times all men would be alone,
Free from each interruption rude,
Or what is meant by solitude.
My villa lies within the bills,
So—like a theatre it fills :
To me my kind acquaintance stray,
And Sunday proves no Sabbath-day;
Yet many a friend and near relation
Make up a glorious congregation ;
They crowd by dozens and by dozens,
And bring me all their country-cousins.
Though cringing landlords on the road,
Who find for man and horse abode ;
Though gilded grapes to sign-post chain'd,
Invite them to be entertain’d,
And straddling cross his kilderkin,
Though jolly Bacchus calls them in;
Nay though my landlady would trust 'em,
Pilgarlick's sure of all the custom ;
And his whole house is like a fair,
Unless he only treats with air.
What! shall each pert half-witted wit,
That calls me Jack, or calls me Kit,
Prey on my time, or on my table ?
No—but let's hasten to the fable.
The eve advanc'd, the sun declin'd,
Ball to the booby-hutch was join'd,
A wealthy cockney drove away,
To celebrate Saint Saturday ;
Wife, daughter, pug, all crowded in,
To meet at country house their kin.
Through Brentford, to fair Twickenham's bow'rs,
The ungreas'd grumbling axle scow'rs,
To pass in rural sweets a day,
But there's a lion in the way :
The lion, a most furious elf,
Hung up to represent himself,
Redden'd with rage, and shook his mane,
And roar'd, and roar'd, and roar'd again,
Wondrous, though painted on a board,
He roar'd, and roar'd, and roar'd, and roar'd.
“Fool! (says the majesty of beasts)
At whose expense a legion feasts;
Foe to yourself, you those pursue
Who're eating up your cakes and you ;
Walk in, walk in, so prudence votes,
And give poor Ball a feed of oats,
Look to yourself, and as for Ma'am,
Coax ber to take a little dram;
Let Miss and pug with cakes be fed,
Then honest man go back to bed;
You're better, and you're cheaper there,
Where are no hangers on, to fear.
Go buy friend Newbery's new Pantheon,
And con the tale of poor Acteon,
Horn’d by Diana, and o’erpower'd,
And by the dogs he fed, devour’d.
What he receiv'd from charity,
Lewdness perhaps may give to thee;
And though your spouse my lecture scorns,
Beware his fate, beware bis horns.
“Sir," says the cit, (who made a stand,
And strok'd his forehead with his hand)
“By your grim gravity and grace,
You greatly would become the mace.
This kind advice I gladly take,-
Drawer, bring the dram, and bring a cake,
With good brown beer that's brisk and humming,"
“ A-coming, sir! a-coming, coming !"
The cit than took a hearty draught,
And shook his jolly sides and laugh’d.
Then to the king of beasts he bow'd,
And thus his gratitude avow'd :-
Sir, for your sapient oration,
I owe the greatest obligation.
You stand expos’d to sun and shower;
I know Jack Ellis of the Tower;
By him you soon may gain renown,
your highness to the town;
Or, if you choose your station here,
To call forth Britons to their beer,
As painter of distinguish'd note,
He'll send his man to clean your coat."
The lion thank'd him for his proffer,
And if a vacancy should offer,
Declar'd he had too just a notion
To be averse to such promotion.
The citizen drove off with joy,
“ For London-Ball--for London-hoy."
Content, to bed he went his way,
And is no bankrupt to this day.
THE HERALD AND HUSBANDMAN.
-Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus.
I with friend Juvenal agree,
Virtue's the true nobility;
Has of herself sufficient charms,
Although without a coat of arms.
Honestus does not know the rules
Concerning Or, and Fetz, and Gules,
Yet sets the wondering eye to gaze on
Such deeds no herald e'er could blaze on.
Tawdry achievements out of place
Do but augment a fool's disgrace;
A coward is a double jest,
Who has a lion for his crest;
And things are come to such a pass,
Two horses may support an ass;
And on a gamester or buffoon
A moral motto’s a lampoon.
An honest rustic, having done
His master's work 'twixt sun and sun,
Retir'd to dress a little spot
Adjoining to his homely cot,
Where pleas'd, in miniature, he found
His landlord's culinary ground,
Some herbs that feed, and some that heal,
The winter's medicine or meal.
The sage, which in his garden seen,
No man need ever die* I ween :
The marjorum comely to behold,
With thyme, and ruddiest marigold,
And mint and pennyroyal sweet,
To deck the cottage windows meet;
* Cur moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in horto ?'