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Might whirl his prison off his back;
Or like a maggot in a nut
Full bravely eat his passage out.
Who knows what vast discoveries
From such inquiries might arise?
But feuds, and tumults in the nation
Disturb such curious speculation.
Cambridge from furious broils of state,
Foresees her near-approaching fate;
Her surest patrons are remov'd,
And her triumphant foes approv❜d.
No more! this due to friendship take, Not idly writ for writing's sake; No longer question my respect, Nor call this short delay neglect; At least excuse it, when you see This pledge of my sincerity; For one who rhymes to make you easy, And his invention strains to please you, To shew his friendship cracks his brains, Şure is a mad-man if he feigns.
CAPTAIN IN COUNTRY QUARTERS.
ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE, ESQ;
My earliest flame, to whom I owe
All that a captain needs to know,
Dress, and quadrille, and air, and chat,
Lewd songs, loud laughter, and all that:
Arts that have widows oft subdued,
And never fail'd to win a prude;
Think, charmer, how I live forlorn
At quarters, from Corinna torn.
Not more distress the cornet feels
From gruel, and Ward's popish pills.
What shall I do now you're away,
To kill that only foe, the day?
The landed 'squire, and dull freeholder
Are sure no comrades for a soldier;
To drink with parsons all day long,
Misaubin tells me would be wrong
Sober advice, and Curll's Dutch whore
I've read, 'till I can read no more.
At noon I rise, and strait alarm
A sempstress' shop, or country farm;
Repuls'd, my next pursuit is a'ter
The parson's wife, or landlord's daughter:
At market oft for game I search,
Oft at assemblies, oft at church,
And plight my faith and gold to-boot :
Yet demme if a soul will do't-
In short, our credit's sunk so low,
Since troops were kept o'foot for shew,
She that for soldiers once run mad,
Is turn'd republican, 'egad!
And when I boast my feats, the shrew
Asks who was slain the last review.
Know then, that I and captain Trueman
Resolve to keep a miss-in common:
Not her, among the batter'd lasses,
Such as our friend Toupét caresses,
But her, a nymph of polish'd sense,
Which pedants call Impertinence;
Train'd up to laugh, and drink, and swear,
And rally with the prettiest air-
Amidst our frolicks and carouses
How shall we pity wretched spouses!
But where can this dear soul be found,
In garret high, or under ground?
If so divine a fair there be,
Charming Corinna, thou art she.
But oh! what motives can persuade
Belles, to prefer a rural shade,
In this gay month, when pleasures bloom,
The park, the play-the drawing-room-
Lo! birthnights upon birthnights tread,
Term is begun, the lawyer fee'd;
My friend the merchant, let me tell ye,
Calls in his way to Farinelli;
Add that my sattin gown and watch
Some unfledg'd booby 'squire may catch,
Who charm'd with his delicious quarry,
May first debauch me, and then marry;
Never was season more befitting
Since convocations last were sitting.
And shall I leave dear Charing-cross,
And let two boys my charms ingross?
Leave play-house, temple, and the rummer ?
A country friend might serve in summer!
The town's your choice-yet, charming fair, Observe what ills attend you there. Captains, that once admir'd your beauty, Are kept by quality on duty; Cits, for atoning alms disburse
A tester-templars, something worse:
My lord may take you to his bed,
But then he sends you back unpaid;
And all you gain from generous cully,
Must go to keep some Irish bully.
Pinchbeck demands the tweezer case,
And Monmouth-street the gowns and stays;
More mischiefs yet come crowding on,
Bridewell,-West Indies-and Sir John―
Then oh! to lewdness bid adieu,
And chastely live, confin'd to two.