University of Virginia Library

At Jenny Mann's, where Heroes meet,
And lay their Laurels at her Feet;
The modern Pallas, at whose Shrine
They bow, and by whose Aid they dine:
Col'nel Brocade, among the rest
Was ev'ry day a welcome Guest.
One Night as carelessly he stood,
Chearing his Reins before the Fire,
(So ev'ry true-born Briton shou'd)
Like that he chafe'd, and fume'd, with Ire.
Jenny, (said he) 'tis very hard,
That no Man's Honour can be spar'd;
If I but sup with Lady Dutchess,
Or play a Game at Ombre, such is
The Malice of the World, 'tis said,
Altho' his Grace lay drunk in bed,
'Twas I that caus'd his akeing Head.
If Madam Doodle wou'd be witty,
And I am summon'd to the City,
To play at Blind-Man's-Buff, or so,
What won't such hellish Malice do?
If I but catch her in a Corner,
Humph—'tis your Servant Col'nel Horner:
But rot the sneering Fops, if e'er
I prove it, it shall cost 'em dear;
I swear by this dead-doing Blade,
Dreadful Examples shall be made:
What—can't they drink Bohea and Cream,
But, dam 'em I must be their Theme?
Other Mens Business let alone,
Why shou'd not Coxcombs mind their own?
As thus he rav'd with all his Might,
(How insecure from Fortune's Spight,
Alas! is ev'ry Mortal Wight!)
To shew his antient Spleen to Mars,
Fierce Vulcan caught him by the A---
Stuck to his Skirts, insatiate Varlet!
And fed with pleasure on the Scarlet.
Hard by, and in the Corner sate
A Bencher, grave, with Look sedate,
Smoking his Pipe, warm as a Toast,
And reading over last Week's Post;
He saw the Foe the Fort invade,
And soon smelt out the Breach he made:
But not a word—a little sly
He look'd, 'tis true, and from each Eye
A side-long Glance sometimes he sent,
To bring him News, and watch th' Event.
At length upon that tender Part,
Where Honour lodges, (as of old
Authentick Hudibras has told)
The blust'ring Col'nel felt a Smart.
Sore-griev'd for his affronted Bum,
Frisk'd, skip'd, and bounc'd about the Room;
Then turning short, Z---ds, Sir, (he cries)—
Pox on him, had the Fool no Eyes?
What! let a Man be burnt alive!—
I am not, Sir, inquisitive
(Reply'd Sir Gravity) to know
Whate'er your Honour's pleas'd to do;
If you will burn your Tail to Tinder,
Pray what have I to do to hinder?
Other Mens Business let alone,
Why shou'd not Coxcombs mind their own?
Then knocking out his Pipe with care,
Laid down his Penny at the Bar;
And wrapping round his Frize Surtout,
Took up his Crab-Tree, and walk'd out.