Satires And Biography :: :: University of Virginia Library

COME, jolly Mortals! join the croud,
Be gay, ridiculous, and loud,
Be any thing but dumb;
Let dominos be banish'd hence,
But Fun and Fancy, Wit and Sense,
In any figure come.

Sweepers who know not how to sweep,
And harlequins who cannot leap,
Old women—scarcely twenty;
Misses in teens—near six feet high,
Law, Physic, and Divinity,
And nosegay girls in plenty.

Let such as these this festive night,
To form the motley group unite,
And each with glee endeavour
(As o'er them rays of Fancy gleam)
To be the character they seem,
And, if they can, be clever.

Beauties in vain their forms disguise,
Now to attract their lovers' eyes,
Now wishing to be seen;
And while soft things the lover says,
The list'ning fair no blush betrays,
Behind the pasteboard screen.

In search of new adventures here,
Some tonish husbands too appear,
With eager palpitation;
Here contradict their usual lives,
And very kindly—with their wives
May make an assignation.

Love in such tricks as these delights,
Thus archly plagues poor married wights,
Or tortures love-sick swains;
His amplest field's a masquerade,
Here are his various gambols play'd,
His pleasures and his pains.

Let serious mortals, seeming wise,
The humors of the night despise,
And jollity upbraid;
What harm one night a mask to wear?
Most wear a mask throughout the year;
The world's a masquerade.

Could we but see the little great,
And e'en the rulers of the state,
Without a mask before them;
Deluded crowds no more would bow;
With open'd eyes, they'd wonder how
They could so long adore them.

At White's mask'd ball let this fam'd fet
Political chicane forget,
And leave their masks behind them;
Each be himself—but lest they err,
Let me point out each character,
As Nature first design'd them.

First, then, let --- a juggler be,
With servile ---, as deputy,
To aid his master's cheat;
Let him, as usual, then display,
His cups and balls in full array,
The engines of deceit.

Then let him on the table place
A surplus million to your face,
To prove his wonders done;
But whilst you look with longing eyes,
The heaps all vanish from your eyes,
The fancy'd million's gone.

What shall we give to S---y's lot,
Since Tommy T---d's name's forgot,
Nor Commons now confute him;
He's chang'd his coat, and broke his oaths,
Then let him come in Clincher's cloaths,
Tom Errand sure will suit him.

Let Active W---d be here,
An harlequin will suit the peer,
He'll caper at direction;
From Holyhead to Dublin now
A leap he takes—and you'll allow
That's leaping in perfection.

Since D---t's duke can vainly hope
With youth and beauty still to Cope,
Nor single longer tarry;
Sir Peter Teazle be his due,
Consider he is fifty-two,
“And that's too old to marry.”

Let B---e, as an usher, speak
Trite, common, hackney'd scraps of Greek,
To shew his wond'rous learning;
Demosthenes he's study'd o'er,
This dubb'd him such an orator,
This made him so discerning.

Some have by time their natures chang'd,
Their former politics derang'd,
Nor is the fact uncommon;
The names of Whig and Tory end,
Time has made Wilkes a monarch's friend,
And C---n an old woman!!!

But my tir'd muse can ne'er describe
The whole of P---t's submissive tribe,
Nor will I call for aid;
Oh! may they keep their proper sphere,
Ne'er may the servile crew appear
At Wargrave Masquerade.