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I MITATION IV.
RITICS avaunt; Tobacco is my theme;
Tremble like hornets at the blafting steam. And you,
court-insects, flutter not too near Its light, nor buzz within the scorching sphere. Pollio, with flame like thine my verse infpire, So shall the Muse from smoke elicit fire. Coxcombs prefer the tickling sting of snuff ; Yet all their claim to wisdom is a puff : Lord Foplin smokes not-for his teeth afraid : Sir Tawdry smokes not-for he wears brocade. Ladies, when pipes are brought, affect to swoon ; They love no smoke, except the smoke of town : But courtiers hate the puffing tribe -no matter, Strange, if they love the breath that cannot flatter ! Its foes but shew their ignorance ; can he Who scorns the leaf of knowledge, love the tree ? The tainted Templar (more prodigious yet) Rails at Tobacco, tho' it makes himspit. Citronia vows it has an odious stink; She will not smoke (ye gods !)—but she will drink. And chaste Prudella (blame her if you can) Says, Pipes are us’d by that vile creature Man : Yet crowds remain, who still its worth proclaim, While some for pleasure smoke, and some for fame : Fame, of our actions universal spring, For which we drink, eat, sleep, smoke,-ev'ry thing.
I MI TATION V.
LEST leaf! whose aromatic gales dispense
To Templars modesty, to Parsons sense :
I I MITATION VI.
OY! bring an ounce of Freeman's beft,
And bid the vicar be my gueft:
This village, unmolested yet
Come jovial pipe, and bring along
The parson's pun, the smutty tale
Britons, if undone, can go,
ENDO, VOL. I