University of Virginia Library

THE Character of a Covetous Citizen.

CANTO I.

For Wedlock's Woes, and wealthy Cares design'd,
To Shop and Wife he's slavishly confin'd:
What each requires he with submission doth,
And with severe attendance humours both.
Being settl'd in a thriving part o'th' Town,
With cautious Steps he prosp'rously goes on,
Greedy t'impose, poor-spirited and base,
He grows, by knavish Conduct, rich apace:
Whilst the good Man, that with a Conscience deals,
Moves slow and follows Fortune at the heels.
Proud is his Heart, yet humble is his Mein,
A Saint without, but Hypocrite within.
Each gainful Lye he does for Truth protest,
Can his own Words to various Sences wrest:
The way you take 'em will your self deceive,
You're surely chous'd if you his Cant believe.
You and the Dev'l he strives alike to serve,
Cheat both, and save himself by a reserve.
All useful Frauds that to his Int'rest tend,
Or false Assertions that can serve his End,
He thinks by Custom are as lawful grown,
As Deeds, an honest Man dare do and own.
Watchful behind his Compter he appears,
And there all Day imprison'd sits, for Years:
Except when business Calls, he takes a loose,
At Noon to Change, or Night to Coffee-House.
His vacant Minutes in his Shop he spends
O'er News, to which he great attention lends;
Till he by reading Gazetts is become,
A Statesman in th'Affairs of Christendom:
And sundry ways can form, to regulate
The worst Disorders of a drooping State:
The cause of all its Miseries can tell,
And is as wise, in Thought, as Matchiavel:
Does the success of each attempt foresee,
Informs his Wife, who knows as well as he,
What the great End of all these things shall be.
Foresight to Fools is something hard to grant,
Since Wise-men oft the Heavenly Knowledge want:
Yet who can tell how Gods their Gifts bestow,
An Ass we find has Prophesi'd e're now.

CANTO II.

Thus he plods on for Twenty Years, or more,
Pays Scot and Lot to th'Parson and the Poor:
His Dealings large, extravagant his Gain,
Esteem'd a sharp, but very honest Man.
As for Religion, he concedes with two,
A Christian he's at Church, in Shop a Jew.
He twice each Sunday in Communion meets,
And Prays at Home as often as he Cheats.
Long-winded Graces at short Meals he makes,
And blesses every Morning's Toast he breaks.
Hears ev'ry Night his youngest Prentice read,
Some long hard Chapter e're he goes to Bed.
Whilst his own Thoughts are busi'd to out-wit
The World, which is the smoother Epithet,
Our well-bred City use instead of Cheat.
Thus with mild Terms they take away the Stain,
And call a Knave in Trade, a Cunning-Man.
Extravagance, like Popery, he hates,
And ne'er beyond a Dish of Coffee treats.
Will talk and wrangle, like the meanest Scrub,
Two Hours, to save a Farthing in his Club.
Wine he drinks seldom, lest his Stomach's chill,
And when he does, he ne'er exceeds a Jill,
Except some mighty Reason should induce
The Niggard, to debauch beyond his use;
As Loyalty; he alters then his stint,
And, on the King's Birth-Day, drinks half a Pint.
Which three Pence extraordinary spent,
Is a sure sign he loves the Government.
And that the World may see, by partial Fate,
He's destin'd to be Rich and Fortunate.
In this small tract of Time three Wives at least,
Are rescu'd from his mercenary Breast,
By that grim spright the wretched oft invoke,
To end their Cares and Miseries with a stroke.
Each Help-mate worth a Thousand Pounds or more,
Whose Portions much encrease the ill-got Store.
The Wife he minds not, but adores the Pence:
No Nights endearments does the Churl dispence.
But kills her with the want of due Benevolence.
Large Sums with Prentices his Bags enrich,
And help to flatter his insatiate Itch.
Some die, whilst others backward to obey,
Complaining of hard usage, run away.
Curse his thin Beer, and rail at Suffolk Cheese,
Forsake their Int'rest to pursue their Ease.
One Crop no sooner runs, but in his room,
A new comes laden with a welcome Sum.
Thus by good-luck, assisted with small Thought,
His thriving Pence to num'rous Pounds are brought.
So Fortune's Minions from a low degree,
Climb the top Branches of her golden Tree;
There cull the precious Fruit, and with disdain,
Behold th'unlucky Gape below in vain.
Long has the Pulpit labour'd hard to free
The City, from the sin of Gluttonie;
But still her Sons Heav'ns plenteous Gifts prophane,
And Gormandize, like Beasts, not eat like Men.

CANTO III.

Now swell'd with Pride, he does Majestick grow,
And with a Nod returns his Neighbour's Bow.
In all Affairs, talks gravely as a Judge,
And Bellies like a Hogshead in the boudge.
Looks high, will none beneath himself regard,
And often Dines with th'Alderman o'th' Ward.
He's now much alter'd, and the Change he keeps
Each Day as constant, as at Night he sleeps.
Establish'd in the World, he takes good Heart,
And his Half-Pint he turns into a Quart.
To th'Coffee-House too becomes a mighty Guest,
And reads the News five times a Day at least.
From whence he wisely does assert, 'tis plain,
The Duke of Anjou has no right to Spain;
But is for so dividing on't, that some
May go to ev'ry part of Christendom:
Which he does eas'ly, as a Man may cut
A Twelfth-Cake for the King, Queen, Knave, and Slut.
Nay, and without Book tells, by strength of Head,
How many Dogs are lost, or Horses stray'd:
And gives the Marks, as if they'd been his own,
From the crop'd Greyhound, to the spavin'd Roan.
Being now grown wond'rous Rich, he has a Call,
By Summons, to the Blue-Coat Hospital.
Where his wise, worshipful, and worthy Sir,
Is chosen, for his Wealth, a Governour,
In hopes he once will Charitable be,
And leave 'em, when he dies, a Legacy.
Proud of the Honour he attends each Court;
But does, like many more, nor good nor hurt.
Who gaze about, and with each others Eyes,
Twenty gray Heads behold to one that's wise.
Cunning, Success, Severity, and Care,
A Trader's Friends, and best Supporters are.
For City-Knaves their Ill-got Wealth possess,
By swallowing Fools, as greater Fish the less.

CANTO IV.