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 | An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace |  |
[_]
Ambubajarum collegia, pharmacopolae,
Mendici, mimae, balatrones; hoc genus omne
Maestum ac sollicitum est cantoris morte Tigelli:
Quippe Benignus erat ------
Mendici, mimae, balatrones; hoc genus omne
Maestum ac sollicitum est cantoris morte Tigelli:
Quippe Benignus erat ------
Pimps, Poets, Wits, Lord Fanny's, Lady Mary's,
And all the Court in Tears, and half the Town,
Lament dear charming Oldfield, dead and gone!
Engaging Oldfield! who, with Grace and Ease,
Could joyn the Arts, to ruin, and to please.
Not so, who of Ten Thousand gull'd her Knight,
Then ask'd Ten Thousand for a second Night:
The Gallant too, to whom she pay'd it down,
Liv'd to refuse that Mistress half a Crown.
Then ask'd Ten Thousand for a second Night:
The Gallant too, to whom she pay'd it down,
Liv'd to refuse that Mistress half a Crown.
Con. Philips cries, “A sneaking Dog I hate.”
That's all three Lovers have for their Estate!
“Treat on, treat on,” is her eternal Note,
And Lands and Tenements go down her Throat.
Some damn the Jade, and some the Cullies blame,
But not Sir H---t, for he does the same.
That's all three Lovers have for their Estate!
“Treat on, treat on,” is her eternal Note,
And Lands and Tenements go down her Throat.
Some damn the Jade, and some the Cullies blame,
But not Sir H---t, for he does the same.
[_]
Fufidius vappae famam timet ac nebulonis,
Dives agris, dives positis in fenore nummis.
Quinas hic capiti mercedes exsecat; atque
Quanto perditior quisque est, tanto acrius urguet.
Nomina sectatur, modo sumta veste virili
Sub patribus duris, tironum. Maxime, quis non,
Juppiter, exclamat, simul atque audivit? “At in se
“Pro quaestu sumtum facit hic.” Vix credere possis
Quam sibi non sit amicus: ita ut Pater ille, Terenti
Fabula quem miserum gnato vixisse fugato
Inducit, non se pejus cruciaverit atque hic.
Dives agris, dives positis in fenore nummis.
Quinas hic capiti mercedes exsecat; atque
Quanto perditior quisque est, tanto acrius urguet.
Nomina sectatur, modo sumta veste virili
Sub patribus duris, tironum. Maxime, quis non,
Juppiter, exclamat, simul atque audivit? “At in se
“Pro quaestu sumtum facit hic.” Vix credere possis
Quam sibi non sit amicus: ita ut Pater ille, Terenti
Fabula quem miserum gnato vixisse fugato
Inducit, non se pejus cruciaverit atque hic.
77
For Int'rest, ten per Cent. her constant Rate is;
Her Body? hopeful Heirs may have it gratis.
She turns her very Sister to a Job,
And, in the Happy Minute, picks your Fob:
Yet starves herself, so little her own Friend,
And thirsts and hungers only at one End:
A Self-Tormentor, worse than (in the Play)
The Wretch, whose Av'rice drove his Son away.
| An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace | |