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First bid him build me a stupendous dome,
Which having finish'd, we set out for Rome;
Take a week's view of Venice and the Brent;
Stare round, see nothing, and come home content.
I'll have my villa too, a sweet abode,
Its situation shall be London road :
Pots o'er the door I'll place like cit's balconies,
Which Bentley calls the gardens of Adonis.

I'll have my gardens in the fashion too,
For what is beautiful that is not new ?
Fair four-legg'd temples, theatres that vie
With all the angles of a Christmas-pie.
Does it not merit the beholder's praise,
What's high to sink, and what is low to raise ?
Slopes shall ascend where once a green-house stood,
And in my horse-pond I will plant a wood.
Let misers dread the hoarded gold to waste,
Expense and alteration shews a taste.

In curious paintings I'm exceeding nice,
And know their several beauties by their price.
Auctions and sales I constantly attend,
But choose my pictures by a skilful friend.
Originals and copies much the same,
The picture's value is the painter's name.

My taste in sculpture from my choice is seen,
I buy no statues that are not obscene.
In spite of Addison and ancient Rome,
Sir Cloudesly Shovel's is my fav’rite tomb,
How oft have I with admiration stood,
To view some city-magistrate in wood !

I gaze with pleasure on a lord-mayor's head,
Cast with propriety in gilded lead.
Oh could I view, through London as I pass,
Some broad Sir Balaam in Corinthian brass :
High on a pedestal, ye freemen, place
His magisterial paunch and griping face;
Letter'd and gilt, let him adorn Cheapside,
And grant the tradesman what a king's deny'd.

Old coins and medals I collect, 'tis true,
Sir Andrew has 'em, and I'll have 'em too.
But among friends, if I the truth might speak,
I like the modern, and despise th' antique.
Though in the drawers of my japan bureau,
To lady Gripeall I the Cæsars show,
'Tis equal to her ladyship or me,
A copper Otho, or a Scotch bawbee.

Without Italian, or without an ear, To Bononcini's music I adhere; Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, And therefore proper at a sheriff's feast. My soul has oft a secret pleasure found In the harmonious bagpipe's lofty sound. Bagpipes for men, shrill German-flutes for boys, I'm English born, and love a grumbling noise. The stage should yield the solemn organ's note, And Scripture tremble in the eunuch's throat. Let Senesino sing what David writ, And hallelujahs charm the pious pit. Eager in throngs the town to Esther came, And oratorio was a lucky name.

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Thou, Heidegger! the English taste hast found,
And rul'st the mob of quality with sound.
In Lent, if masquerades displease the town,
Call 'em ridottos, and they still go down.
Go on, prince Phiz! to please the British nation,
Call thy next masquerade a convocation.

Bears, lions, wolves, and elephants I breed,
And Philosophical Transactions read.
Next lodge I'll be Free-mason, nothing less,
Unless I happen to be F. R. S.

I have a palate, and (as yet) two ears,
Fit company for porters or for peers.
Of every useful knowledge I've a share,
But my top talent is a bill of fare.
Sirloins and rumps

of beef offend my eyes,
Pleas'd with frogs fricasseed, and coxcomb-pies;
Dishes I chuse, though little, yet genteel,
Snails the first course, and peepers crown the meal.
Pig's heads, with hair on, much my fancy please ;
I love young cauliflow'rs if stew'd in cheese,
And give ten guineas for a pint of peas.
No tattling servants to my table come,
My grace is silence, and my waiter dumb.
Queer country-puts extol queen Bess's reign,
And of lost hospitality complain.
Say, thou that dost thy father's table praise,
Was there mahogany in former days?

Oh, could a British barony be sold !
I would bright honour buy with dazzling gold.

Could I the privilege of peer procure,
The rich I'd bully, and oppress the poor.
To give is wrong, but it is wronger still,
On any terms to pay a tradesman's bill.
I'd make the insolent mechanics stay,
And keep my ready money all for play.
I'd try if any pleasure could be found,
In tossing up for twenty thousand pound:
Had I whole counties, I to White's would go,
And set land, woods, and rivers, at a throw.
But should I meet with an unlucky run,
And at a throw be gloriously undone;
My debts of honour I'd discharge the first;
Let all my lawful creditors be curs'd :
My title would preserve me from arrest,
And seizing hired horses is a jest.

I'd walk the morning with an oaken stick,
With gloves and hat, like my own footman Dick;
A footman I would be in outward show,
In sense and education truly so.
As for my head, it should ambiguous wear
At once a periwig and its own hair.
My hair I'd powder in the women's way,
And dress and talk of dressing more than they..
I'll please the maids of honour if I can;
Without black velvet breeches, what is man?
I will my skill in button-holes display,
And brag how oft I shift me every day.
Shall I wear clothes in awkward England made ?
And sweat in cloth to help the woollen trade?

In French embroid'ry and in Flanders lace,
I'll spend the income of a treasurer's place.
Deard's bill for baubles shall to thousands mount,
And I'd out-di'mond even the di'mond count.
I would convince the world by tawdry clothes,
That belles are less effeminate than beaux,
And doctor Lamb should pare my lordship’s toes.

To boon companions I my time would give,
With players, pimps, and parasites, I'd live.
I would with jockeys from Newmarket dine,
And to rough-riders give my choicest wine;
I would caress some stableman of note,
And imitate his language and his coat.
My ev'nings all I would with sharpers spend,
And make the thief-catcher my bosom friend.
In Fig the prize-fighter by day delight,
And sup with Colley Cibber every night.
Should I perchance be fashionably ill,
I'd send for Misaubin, and take his pill.
I should abhor, though in the utmost need,
Arbuthnot, Hollins, Wigan, Lee, or Mead;
But if I found that I

grew worse and

worse,
I'd turn off Misaubin, and take a nurse.
How oft when eminent physicians fail,
Do good old women's remedies prevail!
When beauty's gone, and Chloe's struck with

years,
Eyes she can couch, or she can syringe ears.
Of graduates I dislike the learned rout,
And choose a female doctor for the gout,

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