Methinks I hear the reader cry - His part with skill? why, You or I, Or any body else, as well
As Thomas, fure, could ring a bell, Nor did I ever hear before
Of skill in knocking at a door.
Poor low-liv'd creature! I fuppose, Nay, and am fure, you're one of those Who, at what door foe'er they be, Will always knock in the fame key. Thinking that Bell and Knocker too Were found out nothing else to do, But to inform the house, no doubt, That there was fomebody without, Who, if they might fuch favour win, Would rather chufe to be within.
But had our fervants no more sense, Lord! what must be the confequence? Error would error still pursue,
And ftrife and anarchy enfue,
Punctilio from her altar hurl'd,
Whence the declares unto the world
Whate'er by fancy is decreed,
Thro' all her niceties muft bleed.
For if there was not to be found Some wholesome difference of found, But the fame rap foretold th' approach Of him who walk'd, or rode in coach, A poor relation now and then, Might to my lord admittance gain, When his good lordship hop'd to see Some rascal of his own degree; And, what is more unhappy ftill, The stupid wretch, who brings a bill, Might pass thro' all the motley tribe, As free as one, who brings a bribe.
My lady too might pique her grace Wich carriage stiff, and formal face, Which, fhe deceiv'd, had taken care For fome inferior to prepare.
Or might fome wretch from Lombard-street With greater ease and freedom meet,
Than fenfe of honour will admit
Between my lady and a cit.
Those evils wifely to prevent,, And root out care and discontent, Ev'ry gay fmart, who rides behind, With rofe and bag in tafte refin'd, Muft mufick fully understand, Have a nice ear and skilful hand; At ev'ry turn be always found A perfect connoiffeur in found; Thro' all the gamut skilful fly Varying his notes, now low, now high, According as he shifts his place; Now hoarsely grumbling in the base, Now turning tenor, and again To treble raising his shrill strain ; So to declare, where'er he be, His mafter's fortune and degree,
By the distinguishing address
Which he'll upon the door express.
Thomas, whom I have nam'd before As ringing at CECILIA's door, Was perfect master of this art, And vers'd alike in ev'ry part: So that Cæcilia knew, before Her footman came unto the door, And in due form had told her fo, That Madam VENUS was below.
The doors immediate open flew, The GODDESS, without more ado, Displaying beauty's thousand airs,
Skim'd thro' the hall, and trip'd up stairs.
CECILIA met her with a smile
Of great delight, when all the while If her false heart could have been seen,
She wish'd she had at Cyprus been.
But ladies, fkill'd in forms and arts, Don't in their faces wear their hearts, And those above, like those below, Deal frequently in outside show, And always, to keep up parade, Have a smile by them ready-made.
The forms, which ladies when they meet Must for good-manners” fake repeat, As humble fervant, how d'you do, And in return, pray how are you? Enrich'd at ev'ry proper space With due integuments of lace, As Madam, Grace, and Goddeship, Which we for brevity shall skip, Happily past, in elbow-chair At length our ladies feated are.
Indiff'rent fubjects first they chufe, And talk of weather and the news. That done, they fit upon the state, And fnarl at the decrees of fate,
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