The Character of a Covetous Citizen or, A Ready Way to get Riches. A Poem [by Edward Ward] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. | CANTO III. |
| IV. |
 | The Character of a Covetous Citizen |  |
10
CANTO III.
Now swell'd with Pride, he does Majestick grow,And with a Nod returns his Neighbour's Bow.
In all Affairs, talks gravely as a Judge,
And Bellies like a Hogshead in the boudge.
Looks high, will none beneath himself regard,
And often Dines with th'Alderman o'th' Ward.
He's now much alter'd, and the Change he keeps
Each Day as constant, as at Night he sleeps.
Establish'd in the World, he takes good Heart,
And his Half-Pint he turns into a Quart.
To th'Coffee-House too becomes a mighty Guest,
And reads the News five times a Day at least.
From whence he wisely does assert, 'tis plain,
The Duke of Anjou has no right to Spain;
But is for so dividing on't, that some
May go to ev'ry part of Christendom:
Which he does eas'ly, as a Man may cut
A Twelfth-Cake for the King, Queen, Knave, and Slut.
Nay, and without Book tells, by strength of Head,
How many Dogs are lost, or Horses stray'd:
And gives the Marks, as if they'd been his own,
From the crop'd Greyhound, to the spavin'd Roan.
Being now grown wond'rous Rich, he has a Call,
By Summons, to the Blue-Coat Hospital.
Where his wise, worshipful, and worthy Sir,
Is chosen, for his Wealth, a Governour,
In hopes he once will Charitable be,
And leave 'em, when he dies, a Legacy.
11
But does, like many more, nor good nor hurt.
Who gaze about, and with each others Eyes,
Twenty gray Heads behold to one that's wise.
He now so formal grows, the whole Machine,
Moves as if German Clock-work rul'd within.
His Actions tim'd to certain Minutes are,
And ev'ry thing he does is regular.
I'th' Morning, when the Parish Clock strikes Five,
He 'wakes, and thanks the Lord that he's alive.
With Eyes turn'd up, Success does humbly pray,
To all the Frauds projected for the day.
Then raises from his Pillow his bald Crown,
And jumps into his Slippers and his Gown;
Steps to his Counting-House, there sits till Eight,
Consid'ring how to manage things of weight,
Precisely at which Hour he starts in haste,
And on a Toast and Cheshire breaks his Fast.
Which being done, he lifts up Hands and Eyes,
And thanks the L**d, at length, in holy wise.
Then from his Seat of Ease he rises up,
And belching, creeps down Stairs into his Shop:
Where for two hours the thrifty Churl abides,
And, for some Faults, his eldest Prentice chides;
Directs him in the bus'ness of the Day,
What Goods to send abroad, what Sums to Pay.
Then to some Neighbouring Coffee-House resorts,
There fills his empty Head with false Reports.
He reads and hears, and very wise is made,
In some Affairs of State, and some of Trade:
Sips off his Coffee, which to cool he blows,
And o'er the wreaking Liquor hangs his Nose.
Where the hot Steam condenses, and like Rain,
Drops from his Snout into his Dish again.
He drinks two Doses, till his Forehead sweats,
And then commends it that it warms and wets.
From thence to th'Tavern-Kitchin he adjourns,
There takes a whet, and to his Shop returns.
At Twelve his Dinner's on the Table set,
His Stomach being as ready as his Meat:
But thro' good Husbandry does ne'er appoint
Above one Dish, and that a thund'ring Joint.
By'mself he Dines, his Wives and Children dead,
Lonely his Table, and alike his Bed:
Yet for such Losses no remorse can show.
Wealth is the Spring, whence all his Pleasures flow:
Gold is his Heav'n, no other Loss or Gain,
Can give the Wretch delight, or cause his Pain.
For half an Hour he feeds, and when he'as done,
In's Elbow-Chair he takes a Nap till One
From thence to Change he hurries in a heat,
Where Knaves and Fools in mighty numbers meet,
And kindly mix the Bubble with the Cheat.
There barters, buys and sells, receives and pays,
And turns the Pence a hundred several ways:
At all he ventures, to be rich and great,
And is in ev'ry Dealing Fortunate.
In this great Hive, where Markets rise and fall,
And swarms of Muckworms round its Pillars crawl,
He, like the rest, as busie as a Bee,
Remains amongst the Hen-peck'd Herd till Three.
Then at Lloyd's Coffee-House he never fails,
To read their Letters, and attend the Sales.
There buys by Candle-Inch, but when he sells,
By what he bought by Inch, he'll gain by Ells.
When this is over he to Shop repairs,
And with sharp Eye inspects his Home-Affairs;
Examines what's come in, and what's gone out,
Who has been here, what bus'ness 'twas about.
Then fills his Silver Box, Remember, John,
If any asks, to th'Coffee-House I'm gone.
There sits an Hour, sips Ninny Broath, and Laughs,
To see the Neighbouring Bucks contend at Draughts.
Tir'd with this Sport, he to the Sack-shop goes,
And brisks his Thoughts with a salubrious Dose.
There meets a Club of Elders, like himself,
Who live like Swine, and wallow in their Pelf.
Where, in small Measure they the Fox pursue;
Call for Half-Pints that each may have his due:
Which they repeat, till Sparkles in their Eyes,
And scarlet Fevers in their Cheeks arise.
Whilst the three Topicks of their sensless Chat,
Is first of Trade, Religion, then the State,
Which they with wild Conceits unmercifully Bait.
When each grave Toper has imbib'd his Quart,
Their dividends they pay, shake Hands and part.
Moves as if German Clock-work rul'd within.
His Actions tim'd to certain Minutes are,
And ev'ry thing he does is regular.
I'th' Morning, when the Parish Clock strikes Five,
He 'wakes, and thanks the Lord that he's alive.
With Eyes turn'd up, Success does humbly pray,
To all the Frauds projected for the day.
Then raises from his Pillow his bald Crown,
And jumps into his Slippers and his Gown;
Steps to his Counting-House, there sits till Eight,
Consid'ring how to manage things of weight,
Precisely at which Hour he starts in haste,
And on a Toast and Cheshire breaks his Fast.
Which being done, he lifts up Hands and Eyes,
And thanks the L**d, at length, in holy wise.
Then from his Seat of Ease he rises up,
And belching, creeps down Stairs into his Shop:
Where for two hours the thrifty Churl abides,
And, for some Faults, his eldest Prentice chides;
Directs him in the bus'ness of the Day,
What Goods to send abroad, what Sums to Pay.
Then to some Neighbouring Coffee-House resorts,
There fills his empty Head with false Reports.
He reads and hears, and very wise is made,
In some Affairs of State, and some of Trade:
12
And o'er the wreaking Liquor hangs his Nose.
Where the hot Steam condenses, and like Rain,
Drops from his Snout into his Dish again.
He drinks two Doses, till his Forehead sweats,
And then commends it that it warms and wets.
From thence to th'Tavern-Kitchin he adjourns,
There takes a whet, and to his Shop returns.
At Twelve his Dinner's on the Table set,
His Stomach being as ready as his Meat:
But thro' good Husbandry does ne'er appoint
Above one Dish, and that a thund'ring Joint.
By'mself he Dines, his Wives and Children dead,
Lonely his Table, and alike his Bed:
Yet for such Losses no remorse can show.
Wealth is the Spring, whence all his Pleasures flow:
Gold is his Heav'n, no other Loss or Gain,
Can give the Wretch delight, or cause his Pain.
For half an Hour he feeds, and when he'as done,
In's Elbow-Chair he takes a Nap till One
From thence to Change he hurries in a heat,
Where Knaves and Fools in mighty numbers meet,
And kindly mix the Bubble with the Cheat.
There barters, buys and sells, receives and pays,
And turns the Pence a hundred several ways:
At all he ventures, to be rich and great,
And is in ev'ry Dealing Fortunate.
In this great Hive, where Markets rise and fall,
And swarms of Muckworms round its Pillars crawl,
He, like the rest, as busie as a Bee,
Remains amongst the Hen-peck'd Herd till Three.
13
To read their Letters, and attend the Sales.
There buys by Candle-Inch, but when he sells,
By what he bought by Inch, he'll gain by Ells.
When this is over he to Shop repairs,
And with sharp Eye inspects his Home-Affairs;
Examines what's come in, and what's gone out,
Who has been here, what bus'ness 'twas about.
Then fills his Silver Box, Remember, John,
If any asks, to th'Coffee-House I'm gone.
There sits an Hour, sips Ninny Broath, and Laughs,
To see the Neighbouring Bucks contend at Draughts.
Tir'd with this Sport, he to the Sack-shop goes,
And brisks his Thoughts with a salubrious Dose.
There meets a Club of Elders, like himself,
Who live like Swine, and wallow in their Pelf.
Where, in small Measure they the Fox pursue;
Call for Half-Pints that each may have his due:
Which they repeat, till Sparkles in their Eyes,
And scarlet Fevers in their Cheeks arise.
Whilst the three Topicks of their sensless Chat,
Is first of Trade, Religion, then the State,
Which they with wild Conceits unmercifully Bait.
When each grave Toper has imbib'd his Quart,
Their dividends they pay, shake Hands and part.
Now to his Turkish Soop again he comes,
To qualifie the Wine's aspiring Fumes.
Then home he Jogs, talks smutty to his Maid,
Eats a slight Supper, prays, and so to Bed.
Thus he by Rule compleats each Days design,
Has Hours for Coffee bus'ness, and for Wine;
And does the whole dispatch before Bow-Bell rings Nine.
To qualifie the Wine's aspiring Fumes.
Then home he Jogs, talks smutty to his Maid,
Eats a slight Supper, prays, and so to Bed.
Thus he by Rule compleats each Days design,
Has Hours for Coffee bus'ness, and for Wine;
And does the whole dispatch before Bow-Bell rings Nine.
14
A Trader's Friends, and best Supporters are.
For City-Knaves their Ill-got Wealth possess,
By swallowing Fools, as greater Fish the less.
| The Character of a Covetous Citizen | |