I HATE the town and all its ways;
Ridottos, operas, and plays;
The ball, the ring, the mall, the court;
Wherever the beau-monde resort;
Where beauties lie in ambush for folks,
Earl Straffords, and the Duke of Norfolks;
All coffee-houses, and their praters;
All courts of justice, and debaters;
All taverns, and the sots within 'em;
All bubbles and the rogues that skin 'em.
I hate all critics; may they burn all,
From Bentley to the Grub Street Journal.
All bards, as Dennis hates a pun:
Those who have wit, and who have none.
All nobles, of whatever station;
And all the parsons in the nation.
All quacks and doctors read in physic,
Who kill or cure a man that is sick.
All authors that were ever heard on,
From Bavius up to Tommy Gordon;
Tradesmen with cringes ever stealing,
And merchants, whatsoe'er they deal in.
I hate the blades professing slaughter,
More than the devil holy water.
I hate all scholars, beaus, and squires;
Pimps, puppies, parasites, and liars.
All courtiers, with their looks so smooth;
And players, from Boheme to Booth.
I hate the world, cramm'd all together,
From beggars, up the Lord knows whither.
Ask you then, Celia, if there be
The thing I love? My charmer, thee.
Thee more than light, than life adore,
Thou dearest, sweetest creature more
Than wildest raptures can express;
Than I can tell,-or thou canst guess.
Then tho' I bear a gentle mind,
Let not my hatred of mankind
Wonder within my Celia move,
Since she possesses all my love.
COQUETTING WITH A VERY SILLY FELLOW
CORINNA'S judgment do not less admire,
That she for Oulus shows a gen'rous fire;
Lucretia toying thus had been a fool,
But wiser Helen might have used the tool.
Since Oulus for one use alone is fit,
With charity judge of Corinna's wit.
WHILE men shun Oulus as a fool,
Dames prize him as a beau;
What judgment form we by this rule?
Why this it seems to show-
Those apprehend the beau's a fool,
These think the fool's a beau.
EPITAPH ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT
WHAT tho' alive neglected and undone,
O let thy spirit triumph in this stone!
No greater honour could men pay thy parts,
For when they give a stone, they give their hearts.
ON A WICKED FELLOW, WHO WAS A GREAT BLUNDERER
INTERR'D by blunder in this sacred place,
Lies William's wicked heart, and smiling face.
Full forty years on earth he blunder'd on,
And now the L-d knows whither he is gone.
But if to heaven he stole, let no man wonder,
For if to hell he'd gone, he'd made no blunder.
ON ONE WHO INVITED MANY GENTLEMEN TO A SMALL DINNER
PETER (says Pope) won't poison with his meat; "Tis true, for Peter gives you nought to eat.
COME, let's aboard, my jolly blades,
That love a merry life;
To lazy souls leave home-bred trades,
To husbands home-bred strife;
Through Europe we will gaily roam,
And leave our wives and cares at home.
If any tradesman broke should be,
Or gentleman distress'd,
Let him away with us to sea,
His fate will be redress'd:
The glorious thunder of great guns,
Drowns all the horrid noise of duns.
And while our ships we proudly steer
Through all the conquer'd seas,
We'll show the world that Britons bear
Their empire where they please:
Where'er our sails are once unfurl'd,
Our king rules that part of the world.
The Spaniard with a solemn grace
Still marches slowly on,
We'll quickly make him mend his pace,
Desirous to be gone:
Or if we bend our course to France,
We'll teach Monsieur more brisk to dance.
At length, the world subdued, again
Our course we'll homeward bend;
In women, and in brisk champagne,
Our gains we'll freely spend:
How proud our mistresses will be
To hug the men that fought as we!
ADVICE TO THE NYMPHS OF NEW S-M
CEASE, vainest nymphs, with Celia to contend,
And let your envy and your folly end.
With her almighty charms when yours compare,
When your blind lovers think you half so fair,
Each Sarum ditch, like Helicon shall flow,
And Harnam Hill, like high Parnassus, glow;
The humble daisy, trod beneath our feet,
Shall be like lilies fair, like violets sweet;
Winter's black nights outshine the summer's noon,
And farthing candles shall eclipse the moon:
T-b-ld shall blaze with wit, sweet Pope be dull,
And German princes vie with the Mogul.
Cease, then, advised, O cease th' unequal war,
"Tis too much praise to be o'ercome by her.
With the sweet nine so the Pierians strove;
So poor Arachne with Minerva wove:
Till of their pride just punishment they share;
Those fly and chatter, and this hangs in air.
Unhappy nymphs! O may the powers above,
Those powers that form'd this second Queen of Love,
Lay all their wrathful thunderbolts aside,
And rather pity than avenge your pride;
Forbid it, Heaven, you should bemoan too late
The sad Pierian's or Arachne's fate;
That hid in leaves, and perch'd upon a bough,
You should o'erlook those walks you walk in now;
The gen'rous maid's compassion, others joke,
Should chatter scandal which you once have spoke;
Or else in cobwebs hanging from the wall,
Should be condemn'd to overlook the ball:
To see, as now, victorious Celia reign,
Admired, adored, by each politer swain.
O shun a fate like this, be timely wise,
And if your glass be false, if blind your eyes,
Believe and own what all mankind aver,
And pay with them the tribute due to her.
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