The School of Politicks or, the humours of a coffee-house: a poem. The Second Edition Corrected and much Enlarged by the Author [i.e. Edward Ward] |
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| XXII. | XXII.
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 | The School of Politicks |  |
27
XXII.
[The Company he left behind]
The Company he left behind,Wanted not twenty of the Game,
Some Loyalty, and some Beer inflame;
Nor were they always in a Mind:
One drank the King's Health, but without a Name.
Which his next Neighbour could not bear;
Sir, you're a Jacobite I fear;
And were I sure to find one here
To shew how much I could be Civil,
I'd kick him headlong to the Devil.
A Mighty Hero (cries the t'other)
You're surely Garagantua's Brother,
Your Valour, or I miss my part,
Lies in your Tongue more than your heart.
You Scoundrel don't provoke me more,
For if you do, you Son of a Whore,
I'll make my Mug which now's so full,
Acquainted with thy Paper Skull;
This Language t'other could not bear,
But gives him a round box o'th' Ear;
That was with Interest paid agen:
Thus both provok'd and soundly vext,
Mugs, Dishes, or what e'er comes next,
Serv'd 'em wherewith to vent their Spleen,
But more than's us'd by Men of Worth;
Each had his second, third, and fourth,
And to't they fall with fighting Fury,
As if they'd been at pass of Newry,
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Curses, instead of saying,—Good Night.
| The School of Politicks | |