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Now execrate, like madman raving,

And stamp as hard as paviers paving;
And all for what?

Why, Nan, his daughter,

Hath brought in pot

Some luke-warm water;

Whereas papa, though long at bristles toiling, Can never shave them clean, unless' tis boiling.

delivered to Elizabeth, so incensed her, that she changed her resolution, and in consequence, Sir John Perrot died in the Tower, a prisoner. Various fools have various ways of indulging this pernicious propensity,

Unus utrique error,

Sed variis illudit partibus;

of whom it may truly be said, according to the opinion of Butler,

The difference was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some fake him for a tool

That knaves do work with, call'd a Fool.

The splenetic Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, should not be omitted, whose occult science was vested in his toe; of whom Pliny saith, Policis in dextro pede tactu Lienosis medebatur.

Mark how his face, with ire first reddens, ̧

To ashy pale his cheek then deadens;
His offensive locks now tearing,

And knuckles too his passion sharing,
Whilst he, with look

Of harden'd sinner,

Blasphemes his cook,

Too late with dinner:

Or, d-ns the stew, 'fore which the maid's been toiling,

Then raves and swears at rump-steak, scorch'd while broiling.

Now hark the bell's loud peal's resounding,
Dire knell! the servants' minds astounding;
Each runs, appall'd to hear the volley,
Of dread abuse from passion's folly,
And for what?

Oh mischief subtle,

John hath forgot,

Coals in the scuttle;

Though at that instant might the grate have

boasted,

A fire 'fore which an ox might have been roasted.

Sometimes forgetful in his hurry,
He puts his wife in dreadful flurry;
Storms like the roar of ocean's billow,
For why? no night-cap's on his pillow;
While, smiling, this

Her quick response is,

"You judge amiss,

For on your sconce 'tis :"

E'en so for 's pen he'll quarrel oft be picking, While from his ear, the goose's quill's forth sticking.

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.

Passion to madness is so near allied

Thou may'st without it give the wise offence; From whence this sterling truth can't be deny'd, Such fools commit felo de se on sense.

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS.

Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis.
Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.

M

SECTION XXVII.

OF FOOLS WHO RELY ON THE STABILITY OF

FORTUNE.

Fortuna vitrea est, tum cum splendet frangitur:
Fortuna, nimium quem fovet, stultum facit.

LISTEN, fool, and if there's yet one grain,
Of common sense in thy too senseless brain;
As well may'st thou rely on Fortune's* smile,
As strive these contraries to reconcile.

* It is certainly a fact, that fools are the favoured of Fortune, but not that race which studies to court her; for the caprice of the lady is so notorious, that she will only force herself upon those who either treat her with contempt, or never think about her.

For though dame Fortune seem to smile,

And leer upon thee for a while;

She'll after show thee in the nick,

Of all thy glories, a dog trick.

The haughty and vainglorious Bajazet was the occupant of the very iron cage which he had caused to be construct

When Bond street milliner shall live correct,
And harlots walk in Quaker robes bedeckt;
When doctors disregard their wonted fees,
And great Napoleon's navy rules the seas;
When Pall Mall loungers study common sense,
And high bred ladies sport no impudence;
When lords give satisfaction to their duns,
And vet'ran soldiers shoot not with long guns.
When orators no sep'rate parties join,
And citizens disdain the plump sirloin;

ed for the prison of his enemy, and after all his grandeur, it has been said that he became his own executioner, by beating his brains out against the bars of that very engine which denoted his degradation, and displayed his downfal to the eyes of every gaping fool.

The renowned Kouli Khan, whose conquering arms subdued the vast empire of Mogul, was stopped in his career by the hand of one of his own officers, who murdered him in his tent: but, were we to expatiate on this topic, and adduce every circumstance of a similar nature, in order to prove the instability of Fortune, no folio volume would be sufficient to comprise the catalogue; therefore, to fools of this cast, we will conclude with an excellent line of Sallust, Divitiarum et formæ gloria fluxa atque fragilis.

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