Page images
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

John, fetch the Wine of which I speak,
But on your Life no Bottle break.

Go; on the Right, you know, 'tis spread;

The Corks, you'll find, are feal'd with Red.' He fpoke; the Butler carries out

The Wine he went to hand about ;
For fear, that, confcious of the Cheat,
The Guests should smell the low Deceit ;
And his best Wine, howe'er they fought,
The careful Servants never brought.

FRIEND.

Now tell me, who befide was there,
So blefs'd the curious Feaft to fhare?

GUEST.

The worthy Giver of the Feast
In lordly Pomp at Top was plac'd;
And at the Bottom fat a Friend,
I par'd each Dish to recommend;
Befide there were a Number more;
I think we made juft half a Score.
One Guest was feated close to Me,
(An honeft Captain of the Sea,)

Who brought, the niggard Wretch to spite,
Two Brothers to the jovial Sight.

Swelling in all the Pride of Fat,
Next, an huge Alderman there fat :
Scarcely four Syllables he spoke ;
Others he left in Words to joke;

And,

And, careless of whatever follow'd,
Each nearest Dish promifcuous swallow'd.

The Parafite, of curious Taste,

In Rank of Connoiffeur was plac'd;
If any Dish unheeded lies,.

His Hand displays the fmoaking Prize:
For we, poor Critics of a Treat,

All with unknowing Relish eat;
As fuch nice Sauce difguis'd each Dish,
We fcarce could tell the Fowl from Fish.
And now his friendly Arm high-pil'd
My Plate, with half a Mackrell broil'd ;
But broil'd in vain; my Nofe betrays
The Fish had pafs'd its sweetest Days.
Next, Gooseberries in Plenty flow'd;
My Plate scarce bears the various Load:
For these with liberal Arm he plac'd,
To hide the Fifh's real Tafte.
The Captain fees with eager Eyes

This wondrous Scene; then whifpering cries, Come, let us freely drink away,

• Or we are poison'd, if we stay:

[ocr errors]

Quick let us drain the Niggard's Cellar; 'Here, give some larger Glaffes, Fellow. * Can fuch small Cups the Thirst appease? A Thimble holds as much as thefe.' He spoke; the Landlord, pale with Dread, His Colour chang'd, and hung his Head, VOL. III.

M

As

As if fome Thief had lately stole

His Gold; his other better Soul-
For one of fuch a fober Thinking
Trembles to hear the Sound of Drinking.
The Captain fills, and recommends

The Bottle to his nearest Friends.

Then Hob and Nob,' and 'Yours and Mine,"
Went round the Board in Floods of Wine.
His Parafites, dependent Folk,

Dar'd fcarcely half indulge the Joke;
With lingering Mouth they fip the Cup,
And paufe, unwilling, o'er the Sup.

High o'er the Shrimps, that round were spread, An huge, long Turbot heaves his Head. With all a Hoft's o'er-ruling Pride, Then to the Alderman he cry'd; • This you will find delicious Food: • I took great Care to have it good. My Servant ranfack'd every Stall • From Westminster to Leadenhall, • Refolv'd the best alone should do, To feast such worthy Guefts as you: The Butter for the Sauce defign'd (To treat you richly was my Mind) • From Epping came this Morning; here Our Butter is but paltry Cheer. But the Shrimp-Sauce I need not puff; ( All other Sauces are but Stuff

* This gives a Flavour to the Dish;

[ocr errors]

Which elfe were but a tasteless Fish.

My own directing Care express'd

Which Way the Turbot fhould be drefs'd; • And, without Vanity, I'm plac'd

The foremost 'midst the Men of Tafte.
'Tis bold, indeed, to recommend
This Sauce to an experienc'd Friend:
I know the Common-Council eats
The Sauce of Lobfters at their Treats;
• But that affords too rich Delight,
And gluts the jaded Appetite.'

Alas! what fudden Turns of Fate
Mar even the good Man's happiest State!
How, fhuddering, must th' astonish'd Muse
Tell the Difafter that enfues!

Our Hoft, as, bending from his Chair,
He whisper'd in his Butler's Ear,
(Perhaps, for that's his general Cry,
Some Lecture on Frugality)

Loud as the widely-echoing Sound

When dreadful Earthquakes shake the Ground,
Dropp'd from the Seat (it could no more —
Time to the Dregs its Frame had wore)
The Table-cloth, to fave his Fall,
He grafps; down rush Plates, Dishes, all.
The wondering Guefts, with pensive Care,
Pale, on the proftrate Landlord ftare:
M 2

Poor

Poor Gripus figh'd, and hung his Head;
He rather would have feen us dead:
And would have wept for all the Night,
Had not the Friend reliev'd his Plight:
O Fortune! what a cruel Jade,

< Thou Mistress of the knavifh Trade!
• Away
-no more these empty Jokes ;
Go with thy Wit to other Folks;
• Nor thus with Men of Virtue sport

[ocr errors]

I hope, dear Sir, you feel no Hurt.'
The Tar (in Truth, I thought he'd burst)
Full in his Mouth the Napkin thrust:
Half-pleas'd, half-angry at the Jest,
The Alderman his Laugh fuppreft:

All Men, (he cry'd,) my Friend, are born
For Fortune's Spite, or Fortune's Scorn.
"What though your boundless Merit claim
The Triumph of eternal Fame?
Intruding Woes your Glories blot,
Such is frail Life's precarious Lot!
While the rich Dishes to prepare,
You all a Landlord's Troubles fhare;
Each Sauce with ftrongeft Seafonings grac'd
To fuit the Guests difcerning Tafte;

The Servants with Decorum due

• Clean for the Day, with Livery new;
• Yet fee what Ills your Rage provoke ;
The Chair (perhaps the Legs were broke

By

« PreviousContinue »