Which condemn not the faults they rehearse,
But impute all your sin to your drink.
In drink, poets, philosophers, mob, err;
Then excuse, if my satire e'er nips ye:
When I praise, think me prudent and sober,
If I blame, be assured I am tipsy.

FASHION.

A DIALOGUE.

CONSIDER, my good Friend, the value”—

I have consider'd, Sir, I tell you,

And, preach and practise what you will,

I scorn'd them once, and scorn them still.
Pray, matters it to me or you,

How this and that man ties his queue,
If cloth or silk he choose to put on,
Or wear a white or yellow button?
Shall then submissive Virtue truckle
To imitate each fellow's buckle;
And must a numbscull be adored,
Because it styles itself a lord?

In this the benefit which one (hark ye)
Expects to find in a free monarchy;
That honest, rough, bold Britons must,
Sprawling, like spaniel dogs, in dust,
The toes of every titled cub lick?
Then, hey for Sparta and republick!

"You poets think it only—a jest, eh!

"To cut and slash at peers and majesty !

"When did I ever say a Briton

"Must creep, like pointer, hands and feet on?

"I only said, what I suppose

"You know, and every body knows,

"That in their forms of etiquette,

"The small must copy from the great;

"Must learn their passions and their fancies,

"How this lord laughs, and that duke dances. "For, as a frugal housewife gathers

66

Clippings of silk, and gaudy feathers,

"Which will by length of time prepare

"A covering for an easy chair :

"Even thus, from the great world, our beaus

"Pick shreds of swearing and bon mots;

"Which, when they o'er their souls have wrought 'em,

"Hide Honesty's black leather bottom;

"And a new covering we behold

"Where every single patch is old."

And what, if I be not inclin'd

To clap a cover on my mind,
Nor shreds of tarnish'd wit revere,

Because they flaunted on a peer?

Although as relicks fools adore them,
Rags are but rags, whoever wore them.
"No doubt, Sir, you, a man of letters,
"Are bound to bellow at your betters!
"No clothes are neat, no thoughts are wise,
"Which you don't wear, which you despise !
"Go, scream and cringe to your Apollo;
"What others follow'd I must follow,

"The grave man's care, the gay man's passion, "The lady's every thing-the fashion."

I never would affirm, my friend,

(To see how folks misapprehend !) That a good action grows a worse one, For being done by any person.

I never will avoid the rabble

When right, because, they're fashionable:
I only am not borne along,

For fashion's sake, if they be wrong.
"Yes; sapient, philosophick wight,
"You follow fashion where 'tis right!
"And pray, has any mortal seen you yet
"Make a neat bow, or walk a minuet?
"As much, I tell you, as a spire
"Is more esteem'd for being higher,

“Nobles have honour in a nation,

Proportion'd to their exaltation." And I allow to those great people The same respect as to a steeple; That one acknowledge they are high, That one look up as one goes by; But not, however, that one's head Must jangle bells, or carry lead.

"I wish you would leave off your joking,
"Nothing on earth is more provoking.
"With me such quibbles ne'er prevail.”
What must I give you then?—a tale?
"Yes; I may listen to your story,
"But as a joker, I abhor ye."

A tree once in a church yard grew,
Some say, an oak, and some, a yew;
An elm, or walnut, some prefer,
One antient codex reads a pear:

But that is neither here nor there.

Two stems must from its root have grown,
Though afterwards there was but one;

For t'other, hewn from parent stock,
Was made into a weathercock.

}