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94
Mr. STAUNTON.
What animal's this! like the daw in his plumes?
Is it Staunton who thus on your presence presumes?
What the Deuce was it thrust such a man in Or sino?
He's as far from the truth as Pall Mall from Urbino.
See, his essays have made poor Propriety puke,
And the best we can say is—he makes a rum duke.
Is it Staunton who thus on your presence presumes?
What the Deuce was it thrust such a man in Or sino?
He's as far from the truth as Pall Mall from Urbino.
See, his essays have made poor Propriety puke,
And the best we can say is—he makes a rum duke.
I pity poor Cranford, and Tidswell, and Burnet,
While the nymphs chew an oath, when they dare not return it:
It hurts me to see radiant beauty like their's,
Devoted to watch the caprice of high play'rs;
As skirtings of worth, like your mundungus wrappers,
The refuse of vagrants, and stage understrappers.
Let the Ladies quit trade, like prudential Maskins,
And mend, in a corner, the king's galligaskins:
By rigid economy gather small riches,
Or darn up a rent in Prince Prettyman's breeches;
Or kiss the young Roscius who snores on a pallet;
Or dress, without oil, the salubrious sallet;
And hot mutton chop, reeking, crisp, sweet and versal,
To solace poor Tom when he comes from rehearsal.
While the nymphs chew an oath, when they dare not return it:
It hurts me to see radiant beauty like their's,
Devoted to watch the caprice of high play'rs;
As skirtings of worth, like your mundungus wrappers,
The refuse of vagrants, and stage understrappers.
Let the Ladies quit trade, like prudential Maskins,
And mend, in a corner, the king's galligaskins:
95
Or darn up a rent in Prince Prettyman's breeches;
Or kiss the young Roscius who snores on a pallet;
Or dress, without oil, the salubrious sallet;
And hot mutton chop, reeking, crisp, sweet and versal,
To solace poor Tom when he comes from rehearsal.
Let the group that remain all recede in a throng;
And, 'tis well for their jackets, their claims are unsung:
Besides, there's not one of the Parnassian Muses,
But smiles to such earthenware beings refuses:
As well might train-bands claim a knowledge of arms,
As caitiffs like those, but to look on their charms:
Tho' their clamours oft bring their good humour to trial,
For, like hungry duns, they'll accept no denial,
But hang round their gates, while by strength they are able,
And feed on the offals that fall from their table.
It has long been a maxim upheld beyond doubt,
Where nothing is in, nothing e'er can come out;
To animadvert on the claims of such men,
Were to prostitute Candour, as well as the pen.
And, 'tis well for their jackets, their claims are unsung:
Besides, there's not one of the Parnassian Muses,
But smiles to such earthenware beings refuses:
As well might train-bands claim a knowledge of arms,
As caitiffs like those, but to look on their charms:
Tho' their clamours oft bring their good humour to trial,
For, like hungry duns, they'll accept no denial,
But hang round their gates, while by strength they are able,
And feed on the offals that fall from their table.
It has long been a maxim upheld beyond doubt,
Where nothing is in, nothing e'er can come out;
To animadvert on the claims of such men,
Were to prostitute Candour, as well as the pen.
Alas! did kind Nature permit them to feel;
'Twould be cruel such insects to break on the wheel:
Thus like stinted grass on the plain's vernal bed,
The sharp scythe of Judgment flies over their head.
While the tempest's keen rage is dismant'ling the tow'r,
The cot of humility's safe from its pow'r.
'Twould be cruel such insects to break on the wheel:
Thus like stinted grass on the plain's vernal bed,
The sharp scythe of Judgment flies over their head.
While the tempest's keen rage is dismant'ling the tow'r,
The cot of humility's safe from its pow'r.
Then go, ye base tribe, read the decalogue o'er,
Retreat to your sheds, and, be varlets no more:
Thank the gods, that your state has protected your shins;
Chaunt your vespers in peace, and, go sleep in whole skins;
Nor utter, despondent, that Satire will flay us,
For Hercules wars but with men like Antæus!
Retreat to your sheds, and, be varlets no more:
96
Chaunt your vespers in peace, and, go sleep in whole skins;
Nor utter, despondent, that Satire will flay us,
For Hercules wars but with men like Antæus!
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