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Draw them like, for I assure ye,
You will need no car'catura';
Draw them so, that we may trace
All the soul in ev'ry face.
Keeper, I must now retire, You have done what I desire : But I feel my spirits spent With the noise, the tight, the scent. “ Pray, be patient, you shall find " Half the best are still behind : “. You have hardly seen a score, “ I can fhew two hundred inore." Keeper, I have seen enough. Taking then a pinch of snuff, I concluded, looking round 'em,
May their god, the d-1, confound 'em."
A Lady wife as well as fair,
Whofe conscience always was her care,
'Thoughtful upon a point of moment,
Would have the text as well as comment:
So hearing of a grave divine,
She sent to bid him come and dine.
But you must know he was not quite
So grave as to be unpolite ;
Thought human learning would not lessen
The dignity of his profeflion ;
And if you'd heard the man discourse,
Or preach, you'd like him scarce the worse.
He long had bid the court farewel,
Retreating filent to his cell ;
Suspected for the love he bore
To one who sway'd some time before;
Which made it more surprising how
He should be sent for thither now.
The message told, he gapes, and stares,
And scarce believes his eyes, or ears :
Could not conceive what it should mean,
And fain would hear it told again.
But then the 'squire so trim and nice,
"Twere rude to make him teli it twice ;
So bow'd, was thankful for the honour :
And would not fail to wait
His beaver brush'd, his shoes, and gown,
Away he trudges into town;
Passes the lower castle-yard,
And now advancing to the guard,
He trembles at the thoughts of state ;
For confcious of his sheepith gait,
His spirits of a sudden fail him,
He stopt, and could not tell what ail'd him.
What was the message I receiv'd ?
Why certainly the Captain rav'd ?
To dine with her! and come at three !
Impoffible ! it can't be me.
be I mistook the word ; My Ladyit must be my Lord,
My Lord's abroad; my Lady too : What must th' vnhappy Doctor do ? * Is Capt. Crach’rode here *, pray?"-No. . “ Nay, then 'tis time for me to go.". Am I awake, or do I dream ? l'm sure he call'd me by my name : Nam'd me as plain as he could speak, And yet
there must be some mistake.
* The gentleman who brought the message,
Why, what a jest should I have been,
Had now my Lady been within ?
What could I've have said ? I'ın mighty glad
She went abroad-she'd thought me mad.
The hour of dining now is part:
Well then, I'll e’n go home and fast ;
And since I 'fcap'd being made a scoff,
I think I'm very fairly off.
My Lady now returning home,
Calls, “ Crach’rode, is the Doctor come?"
He had not heard of him
“ 'Tis now a quarter after three.
The Captain walks about, and searches
Through all the rooms, and courts, and arches;
Examines all the servants round,
In vain no doctor's to be found.
My Lady, could not chufe but wonder:
65 " Captain, I fear you've made fome blunder.
“ But pray, to-morrow go at ten, “ I'll try his manners once again ; “ If rudeness be th' effect of knowledge, My son shall never fee a college.”
70 The captain was a man of reading, And much good sense, as well as breeding, Who loath to blame, or to incense, Said little in his own defence; Next day another meffage brought :
75 The Doctor, frighten'd at his fault, Is drefs'd, and stealing through the crowd, Now pale as death, then blush'd and bow'd, Panting-and fault'ring, --- humm'd and hard, “Her Ladyfhip was gone abroad ;
80 “ The Captain toom he did not know " Whether he ought to stay or go;" Begg'd fhe'd forgive him. In conclusion, My Lady, pitying his confusion,
Call'd her good nature to relieve him ;
Fold him, the thought she might believe himn;
And would not only grant his fuit,
But vifit him, and eat some fruit ;
Provided, at a proper time
He told the real truth in rhyme.
'Twas to no purpose to oppote,
She'd hear of no excuse in prole.
The Doctor stood not to debate,
Glad to compound at any rate ;
So bowing, seemingly comply'd ,
Though if he durst, he had deny’d.
But first refolu'd to thew his taste
Was too refin'd to give a feast :
He'd treat with nothing that was rare,
But winding walks and purer air;
Would entertain without expence,
Or pride, cr vain munificence.
For well he knew to such a guest
The plainest meals must be the best.
To stomachs clogg'd with costly faro
Simplicity alone is rare ;
Whilst high, and nice, and curious meats;
Are really but vulgar treats :
Instead of spoils of Persian looms,
The costly boasts of regal rooms,
Thought it more courtly and discreet
To scatter roses at her feet ;
Rofes of richest dye, that shone
With native lustre, like her own ;
Beauty that needs no aid of art
Through ev'ry sense to reach the heart.
The gracious dame, though well she knew
All this was much beneath her due,
Like ev'ry thing at least thought fit
To praise it per maniere d' acquit.
Yet the, though seeming pleas’d, can't bear
The scorching fun, or chilling air ;
Disturb'd alike at both extreincs,
Whether he fhews or hides his beams :
Though seeming pleas'd at all she sees, 125
Starts at the rufiling of the trees;
And scarce can speak for want of breath,
In half a walk fatigu'd to death.
The Doctor takes his hint from hence.
T'apologise his late offence;
Madam, the mighty pow'r of use
“ Now strangely pleads in my excule.
“ If you unus'd have scarcely strength
" To gain this walk's untoward length.;
“ If frighten'd at a scene so rude,
135 “ Through long disuse of folitude ; " If long confin'd to fires and screens, “ You dread the waving of these greens; “ If
you, who long have breath'd the fumes " Of city-fogs and crouded-rooms,
140 "Do now folicitously shun “ The cooler air, and dazzling sun : “ If his majestic eye you flee, “ Learn hence t'excuse and pity me. “ Consider what it is to bear.
145 "The powder'd courtier's witty sneer ;. " To see th' important man of dress,
Scoffing my college-aukwardness, “ To be the strutting cornet's sport; " To run the gauntlet of the court,
150 Winning my way by flow approaches; " Through crouds of coxcombs and of coaches, “ From the first fierce cockaded centry, " Quite through the tribe of waiting gentry; “ To pass so many crouded stages,
1:55 " And stand the faring of your pages; “ And, after all, to crown my spleen, “ Be told,—you are not to be seen :
Or, if you are, be forced to bear " The awe of your majestic air.