The Dance of Life A Poem, by the author of "Doctor Syntax;%" [i.e. William Combe] Illustrated with coloured engravings, by Thomas Rowlandson |
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 | CHAPTER I. INFANCY. The Dance of Life |  |
“—I wish I could have neighbours' fare,
“For you have got a son and heir;
“But to my wish the will of Heaven
“Has nothing more than daughters given.
“The Girls are well enough, 'tis true,
“But I should like a Boy or two.
“Besides, my Lord will sometimes pout,
“Aye swear, and pace the room about;
“To think that his proud name may fail,
“For want, alas, of issue male.
“But e'er three moons their course have run
“Like you I may have got a son:
“For you must see, dear Lady Grace,
“That I am in a growing case;
“But hope I shall not have my call
“Till after the Election Ball.
“If Nature should be so unkind
“To order me to be confin'd,
“Just as the Country's running mad,
“When ev'ry eye and heart is glad;
“I must be sick, and shall be sad.
“—Dear Lady Susan's coming down,
“Perhaps you've heard, next week from town:
“'Tis strange, but though so lately married,
“All the world says she has miscarried.
“It may indeed, be said, her marriage
“With such a Fool, was a miscarriage.
“She'll treat the thing with scorn and scoff;
“I have no doubt, she'll laugh it off;
“For, whether it be false or true,
“'Tis that, at least, which I should do.
“I wonder'd, with her charms and spirit,
“She did not match with equal merit;
“But 'tis not worth one's while to weigh
“The whys and wherefores of the day.
“—You must have heard, my friend, of course,
“Of Mrs. Quickpace, and her horse:
“She loves to ride that fiery Tit,
“And always in a snaffle bit:
“It is a wild and vixen roan;
“A temper not unlike her own:
“Away it ran—but that's not all,—
“She had a very pretty fall.
“'Tis known she loves to shew her foot
“And ankle, in a stylish boot;
“But here I'm told, 'tis very shocking,
“The laughing hunters saw her stocking.
“Some officer, a man unknown,
“Just quarter'd in the neighb'ring town,
“Pick'd up the Lady from the mire;
“And now is seen her constant 'Squire:
“Nay, it is said, the country over
“That he's become her secret Lover.
“But I hate scandal—I can prove it;
“And you, dear Thing, I know don't love it.
“But this same caudle is so strong,
“It makes more glib my rattling tongue.
“—I do fatigue you, I believe,
“And therefore my Adieus receive;
“For no replies will you bestow,
“But a faint yes, and languid no.”
“For you have got a son and heir;
“But to my wish the will of Heaven
“Has nothing more than daughters given.
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“But I should like a Boy or two.
“Besides, my Lord will sometimes pout,
“Aye swear, and pace the room about;
“To think that his proud name may fail,
“For want, alas, of issue male.
“But e'er three moons their course have run
“Like you I may have got a son:
“For you must see, dear Lady Grace,
“That I am in a growing case;
“But hope I shall not have my call
“Till after the Election Ball.
“If Nature should be so unkind
“To order me to be confin'd,
“Just as the Country's running mad,
“When ev'ry eye and heart is glad;
“I must be sick, and shall be sad.
“—Dear Lady Susan's coming down,
“Perhaps you've heard, next week from town:
“'Tis strange, but though so lately married,
“All the world says she has miscarried.
28
“With such a Fool, was a miscarriage.
“She'll treat the thing with scorn and scoff;
“I have no doubt, she'll laugh it off;
“For, whether it be false or true,
“'Tis that, at least, which I should do.
“I wonder'd, with her charms and spirit,
“She did not match with equal merit;
“But 'tis not worth one's while to weigh
“The whys and wherefores of the day.
“—You must have heard, my friend, of course,
“Of Mrs. Quickpace, and her horse:
“She loves to ride that fiery Tit,
“And always in a snaffle bit:
“It is a wild and vixen roan;
“A temper not unlike her own:
“Away it ran—but that's not all,—
“She had a very pretty fall.
“'Tis known she loves to shew her foot
“And ankle, in a stylish boot;
“But here I'm told, 'tis very shocking,
“The laughing hunters saw her stocking.
29
“Just quarter'd in the neighb'ring town,
“Pick'd up the Lady from the mire;
“And now is seen her constant 'Squire:
“Nay, it is said, the country over
“That he's become her secret Lover.
“But I hate scandal—I can prove it;
“And you, dear Thing, I know don't love it.
“But this same caudle is so strong,
“It makes more glib my rattling tongue.
“—I do fatigue you, I believe,
“And therefore my Adieus receive;
“For no replies will you bestow,
“But a faint yes, and languid no.”
| CHAPTER I. INFANCY. The Dance of Life | |