 | Miscellanies In Prose And Verse |  |
To Himself.
To you, my old Friend, and Companion so dear,I've some plain Truths to tell; pr'ythee lend me your Ear;
They're what you won't like; but I think it my Duty,
Having flatter'd so long, for, this once, to be true t'ye.
I doubt you'll be vex'd, when you come to be told,
That, altho' not much wiser, you're growing more old,
That your jaunty fine Airs, and Cavalier Dress,
Become you, alas! ev'ry Day less and less;
And you soon must lay down that sure Claim to be witty,
By such Jokes, as all Nymphs find so moving and pretty:
In one word, you will lose the two vigorous Joys;
For the Downs and the Girls must be left to the Boys:
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Look as sour as you please, it won't alter the Case;
What! amongst all your Books, ha'n't you learnt the Discretion,
To quit with some Grace, when you can't keep Possession?
Come, let me advise; never fret, fume, and swear;
Never rail, nor affect to be mighty severe:
The World will but laugh at a Wisdom so great;
And cry with a Sneer, You begin it too late.
What is then to be done? A new Course to be taken;
And, oh! harder still, an old one forsaken.
'Tis cruel, I own, but the Matter well scan'd,
'Twill be vain to contest, when you cannot withstand:
In what's common to all, how can one be befriended?
And why make things worse, since they're not to be mended?
Curse your Stars then no more, but contentedly say,
Th'old Proverb is true, Ev'ry Dog has his Day.
Leave Wrongheads t'intrigue on, 'till Threescore and ten;
And, at last, like true Dotards, to marry again.
| Miscellanies In Prose And Verse | |