THE PROGRESS OF CURIOSITY; OR A ROYAL VISIT TO WHITBREAD'S BREWERY. Sic transit gloria mundi !-Old Sun Dials. PETER PINDAR. From House of Buckingham, in grand parade, To Whitbread's Brewhouse, moved the cavalcade. THE ARGUMENT.-Peter's loyalty.-He suspecteth Mr. Warton of joking.— Complimenteth the poet Laureate.-Peter differeth in opinion from Mr. Warton.Taketh up the cudgels for King Edward, King Harry V., and Queen Bess.-Feats on Blackheath and Wimbledon performed by our most gracious sovereign.-King Charles the Second half damned by Peter, yet praised for keeping company with gentlemen.-Peter praiseth himself.-Peter reproved by Mr. Warton.-Desireth Mr. Warton's prayers.-A fine simile.-Peter still suspecteth the Laureate of ironical dealings-Peter expostulateth with Mr. Warton.-Mr. Warton replieth.-Peter administereth bold advice.-Wittily calleth death and physicians poachers. Praiseth the king for parental tenderness.-Peter maketh a natural simile.-Peter furthermore telleth Thomas Warton what to say.-Peter giveth a beautiful example of ode-writing. THE CONTENTS OF THE ODE-His Majesty'st love for the arts and sciences, even in quadrupeds.-His resolution to know the history of brewing beer.-Billy Ramus sent ambassador to Chiswell street.-Interview between Messrs. Ramus and Whitbread.-Mr. Whitbread's bow, and compliments to Majesty.—Mr. Ramus's return from his embassy.-Mr. Whitbread's terrors described to Majesty by Mr. Ramus.-The King's pleasure thereat.-Description of people of worship. -Account of the Whitbread preparation.-The royal cavalcade to Chiswell-street. -The arrival at the brewhouse.-Great joy of Mr. Whitbread.-His Majesty's nod, the Queen's dip, and a number of questions.-A West India simile.-The marvelings of the draymen described.-His Majesty peepeth into a pump.Beautifully compared to a magpie peeping into a marrow-bone.-The minute cu rio ity of the King.-Mr. Whitbread endeavoreth to surprise Majesty.-His Majesty puzzleth Mr. Whitbread.-Mr. Whitbread's horse expresseth wonder.—Also Mr. Whitbread's dog.-His Majesty maketh laudable inquiry about Porter.Again puzzleth Mr. Whitbread.-King noteth notable things.-Profound questions proposed by Majesty.-As profoundly answered by Mr. Whitbread.-Majesty in a mistake.-Corrected by the brewer.-A nose simile.-Majesty's admiration of the bell.-Good manners of the bell.-Fine appearance of Mr. Whitbread's pigs.-Majesty proposeth questions, but benevolently waiteth not for answers.— Peter telleth the duty of Kings.-Discovereth one of his shrewd maxims.-Sublime sympathy of a water-spout and a king.-The great use of asking questions.The habitation of truth.-The collation.-The wonders performed by the Royal Visitors.-Majesty proposeth to take leave.-Offereth knighthood to Whitbread. Mr. Whitbread's objections.-The king runneth a rig on his host.-Mr. Whitbread thanketh Majesty.-Miss Whitbread curtsieth.-The queen dippeth.-The Cavalcade departeth. Peter triumpheth.-Admonisheth the Laureate.-Peter croweth over the Laureate.-Discovereth deep knowledge of kings, and surgeons, and men who have lost their legs.-Peter reasoneth.-Vaunteth.-Even insulteth the Laureate.-Pe The Poet Laureate. + George III. ter proclaimeth his peaceable disposition.-Praiseth Majesty, and concludeth with a prayer for curious kings. TOM, soon as e'er thou strik'st thy golden lyre, To sing of kings and queens, and such rare folk: You Oxford wits most dearly love a joke. Son of the Nine, thou writest well on naught; Yes, laurelled Odeman, braver far by half; Though on Blackheath and Wimbledon's wide plain, Although at grand reviews he seems so blest, And at reviews afraid of thirst and famine, Sure, Tom, we should do justice to Queen Bess: As that old queen, though often called old b—ch, As for John Dryden's Charles-that king For, like some kings, in hobby grooms, Knights of the manger, curry-combs, and brooms, Lost to all glory, Charles did not delight Nor joked by day with pages, servant-maids, Large, red-polled, blowzy, hard two-handed jades: Indeed I know not what Charles did by night. Thomas, I am of candor a great lover; In short, I'm candor's self all over; Sweet as a candied cake from top to toe; Make it a rule that Virtue shall be praised, And humble Merit from the ground be raised: What thinkest thou of Peter now? Thou cryest "Oh! how false! behold thy king, Of whom thou scarcely say'st a handsome thing; That king has virtues that should make thee stare.' Is it so ?-Then the sin 's in me 'Tis my vile optics that can't see; Then pray for them when next thou sayest a prayer. But, p'rhaps aloft on his imperial throne, Then may the royal ray be soon explored— And Thomas, if thou 'lt swear thou art not humming, I'll take my spying-glass and bring thee word The instant I behold it coming. But, Thomas Warton, without joking, Art thou, or art thou not, thy sovereign smoking? How canst thou seriously declare, That George the Third With Cressy's Edward can compare, Or Harry?—Tis too bad, upon my word: George is a clever king, I needs must own, And cuts a jolly figure on the throne. Such was the sublime opinion of the Dutch astronomer, Huygens. Now thou exclaim'st, "God rot it! Peter, pray I'll tell thee what to say, O tuneful Tom: Leaving that son to death and the physician, Say, though the monarch did not see his son, To bring on useless tears, and dismal recollection. And what are sighs and tears but wind and water, That show the leakiness of feeble nature? Tom, with my simile thou wilt not quarrel; Whizzing and oozing through each chink, That Say-for the prince, when wet was every eye, Say how a King, unable to dissemble, Ordered Dame Siddons to his house, and Kemble, To spout: Gave them ice creams and wines, so dear! Denied till then a thimble full of beer; For which they 've thanked the author of this meter, Videlicet, the moral mender, Peter Who, in his Ode on Ode, did dare exclaim, And call such royal avarice, a shame. Say-but I'll teach thee how to make an ode; Thus shall thy labors visit fame's abode, In company with my immortal lay; And look, Tom-thus I fire away— BIRTH DAY ODE. This day, this very day, gave birth, Who love the arts that man exalt to heaven, Full of the art of brewing beer, The monarch heard of Mr. Whitbread's fame: Shame, shame, we have not yet his brewhouse seen!" Red-hot with novelty's delightful rage, Of such undreamt-of honor proud, Then said unto the page, hight Billy Ramus, How we poor Chiswell people brew." ⚫ The dancing dogs and wise pig have formed a considerable part of the royal amusement. |