ABSTRACT
When half his Nose is in his Patron's Ear. I quak'd at heart; and still afraid to see 180 All the Court fill'd with stranger things than he, Ran out as fast, as one that pays his Bail, And dreads more Actions, hurries from a
Bear me, some God! oh quickly bear me hence To wholesome Solitude, the Nurse of Sense: 185 Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled Wings, And the free Soul looks down to pity Kings. There sober Thought pursu'd th'amusing theme Till Fancy colour'd it, and form'd a Dream. A Vision Hermits can to Hell transport, 190 And force ev'n me to see the Damn'd at Court. Not Dante dreaming all th' Infernal State, Beheld such Scenes of Envy, Sin, and Hate. Base Fear becomes the Guilty, not the Free; Suits Tyrants, Plunderers, but suits not me. 195 Shall I, the Terror of this sinful Town, Care, if a livery'd Lord or smile or frown? Who cannot flatter, and detest who can, Tremble before a noble Serving-Man? o my fair Mistress, Truth! Shall I quit thee, 200 For huffing, braggart, puft Nobility? Thou, who since Yesterday, hast roll'd o'er all The busy, idle Blockheads of the Ball, Hast thou, 0 Sun! beheld an emptier sort, Than such as swell this Bladder of a Court? 205 Now pox on those who shew a Court in Wax! It ought to bring all Courtiers on their backs. Such painted Puppets, such a varnish'd Race Of hollow Gewgaws, only Dress and Face, Such waxen Noses, stately, staring things, 210 No wonder some Folks bow, and think them Kings.
