Part 2

Whoe'er he be that to a _Taste_ aspires, Let him read this, and be what he desires. In men and manners vers'd from life I write, Not what was once but what is now polite. Those who of courtly _France_ have made the tour, Can scarce our _English_ awkwardness endure. But honest men who never were abroad, Like _England_ only, and its _Taste_ applaud. Strife still persists, which yields the better _gout_; Books or the world, the many or the few. True _Taste_ to me is by this touchstone known, That's always best that's nearest to my own. To shew that my pretensions are not vain, My Father was a play'r in _Drury-lane_. Pears and Pistachio-nuts my Mother sold, He a Dramatick-poet, She a Scold. His tragick muse could Countesses affright, Her wit in boxes was my Lord's delight. No mercenary _Priest_ e'er join'd their hands, Uncramp'd by wedlock's unpoetick bands. _Laws_ my Pindarick parents matter'd not, So I was tragi-comically got. My infant tears a sort of measure kept, I squal'd in Distichs, and in Triplets wept. No youth did in I education waste, Happy in an _Hereditary Taste_. Writing ne'er cramp'd the sinews of my thumb, Nor barb'rous birch e'er brush'd my brawny bum. My guts ne'er suffer'd from a college-cook, My name ne'er enter'd in a buttery-book. _Grammar_ in vain the sons of _Priscian_ teach, Good Parts are better than _Eight Parts of Speech_: Since these declin'd those undeclin'd they call, I thank my Stars, that I declin'd 'em all. To _Greek_ or _Latin Tongues_ without pretence, I trust to mother Wit, and father Sense. _Nature_'s my guide, all Sciences I scorn, Pains I abhor, I was a _Poet born_. Yet is my _gout_ for criticism such, I've got some _French_, and know a little _Dutch_. Huge commentators grace my learned shelves, Notes upon books out-do the books themselves. Criticks indeed are valuable men, But hyper-criticks are as good agen. Tho' _Blackmore_'s works my soul with raptures fill, With notes by _Bently_ they'd be better still. The _Boghouse-Miscellany_'s well design'd, To ease the body, and improve the mind. _Swift_'s whims and jokes for my resentment call, For he displeases me, that pleases all. Verse without rhyme I never could endure, Uncouth in numbers, and in sense obscure. To him as Nature, when he ceas'd to see, _Milton_'s an _universal Blank_ to me. Confirm'd and settled by the Nations voice, Rhyme is the poet's pride, and peoples choice. Always upheld by national Support, Of Market, University, and Court: _Thompson_, write blank; but know that for that reason, These lines shall live, when thine are out of season. Rhyme binds and beautifies the Poet's lays, As _London_ Ladies owe their shape to stays. Had _Cibber_'s self the _Careless Husband_ wrote, He for the Laurel ne'er had had my Vote: But for his Epilogues and other Plays, He thoroughly deserves the _Modern Bays_. It pleases me, that _Pope_ unlaurell'd goes, While _Cibber_ wears the Bays for Playhouse Prose. So _Britain_'s Monarch once uncover'd fate, While _Bradshaw_ bully'd in a broad-brimm'd hat. Long live old _Curl!_ he ne'er to publish fears, The speeches, verses, and last wills of Peers. How oft has he a publick spirit shewn, And pleas'd our ears regardless of his own? But to give Merit due, though _Curl_'s the same? Are not his Brother-booksellers the same? Can Statutes keep the _British_ Press in awe, While that sells best, that's most against the Law? _Lives_ of dead _Play'rs_ my leisure hours beguile, And _Sessions-Papers_ tragedize my stile. 'Tis charming reading in _Ophelia_'s life, So oft a Mother, and not once a Wife: She could with just propriety behave, Alive with Peers, with Monarchs in her grave: Her lot how oft have envious harlots wept, By Prebends bury'd and by Generals kept. T'improve in Morals _Mandevil_ I read, And _Tyndal_'s Scruples are my settled Creed. I travell'd early, and I soon saw through Religion all, e'er I was twenty-two. Shame, Pain, or Poverty shall I endure, When ropes or opium can my ease procure? When money's gone, and I no debts can pay, Self-murder is an honourable way. As _Pasaran_ directs I'd end my life, And kill myself, my daughter, and my wife. Burn but that _Bible_ which the Parson quotes, And men of spirit all shall cut their throats. But not to writings I confine my pen, I have a taste for buildings, musick, men. Young travell'd coxcombs mighty knowledge boast, With superficial Smatterings at Most. Not so my mind, unsatisfied with hints, Knows more than _Budgel_ writes, or _Roberts_ prints. I know the town, all houses I have seen, From _High-Park_ corner down to _Bednal-Green_. Sure wretched _Wren_ was taught by bungling _Jones_, To murder mortar, and disfigure stones! Who in _Whitehall_ can symmetry discern? I reckon _Convent-garden_ Church a _Barn_. Nor hate I less thy vile Cathedral, _Paul_! The choir's too big, the cupola's too small: Substantial walls and heavy roofs I like, 'Tis _Vanbrug_'s structures that my fancy strike: Such noble ruins ev'ry pile wou'd make, I wish they'd tumble for the prospect's sake. To lofty _Chelsea_ or to _Greenwich_ Dome, Soldiers and sailors all are welcom'd home. Her poor to palaces _Britannia_ brings, St. _James_'s hospital may serve for kings. Building so happily I understand, That for one house I'd mortgage all my land. _Dorick_, _Ionick_, shall not there be found, But it shall cost me threescore thousand pound. From out my honest workmen, I'll select A _Bricklay'r_, and proclaim him architect; First bid him build me a stupendous Dome, Which _having finish'd_, we set out for _Rome_; Take a weeks 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 Cits balconies, Which[1] _Bently_ 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 vye, With all the angles of a _Christmas_-pye. 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, Expence and alteration shew a _Taste_. In curious paintings I'm exceeding nice, And know their several beauties by their _Price_. _Auctions_ and _Sales_ I constantly attend, But chuse 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 May'r'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. Tho' in the draw'rs of my japan _Bureau_, To Lady _Gripeall_ I the _Caesars_ shew, 'Tis equal to her Ladyship or me, A copper _Otho_, or a _Scotch Baubee_. Without _Italian_, or without an ear, To _Bononcini_'s musick I adhere: Musick has charms to sooth a savage beast, 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 _Hester_ came, And _Oratorio_ was a lucky name. Thou, _Heeideggre!_ the _English_ taste has found, And rul'st the mob of quality with sound. In _Lent_, if Masquerades displease the town, Call 'em _Ridotto_'s, and they still go down: Go on, Prince _Phyz_! to please the British nation, Call thy next _Masquerade_ a _Convocation_. Bears, Lyons, 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 ev'ry useful knowledge I've a share, But my top talent is a bill of fare. Sir Loins 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. Pigs heads with hair on, much my fancy please, I love young colly-flow'rs if stew'd in cheese, And give ten guineas for a pint of peas. No tatling 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 do'st thy father's table praise, Was there _Mahogena_ in former days? Oh! could a British Barony be sold! I would bright honour buy with dazling 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 Mechanicks 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 lands, 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 curst: My _Title_ would preserve me from arrest, And seising _hired horses_ is a jest. I'd walk the mornings with an _oaken stick_, With gloves and hat, like my own _footman, Dick_. A footman I wou'd 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-britches, what is man? I will my skill in _button-holes_ display, And brag how oft I shift me ev'ry day. Shall I wear cloaths, 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 ev'n the _Di'mond Count_. I would convince the world by taudry cloa's, 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 _Colly Cibber_ ev'ry 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 womens 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 chuse a _female Doctor_ for the gout. Thus would I live, with no dull _pedants_ curs'd, Sure, of all blockheads, _Scholars_ are the worst. Back to your _Universitys_, ye fools, And dangle Arguments on strings in schools: Those schools which _Universitys_ they call, 'Twere well for _England_ were there none at all. With ease that loss the nation might sustain, Supply'd by _Goodman's Fields_ and _Drury-lane_. _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_ are not worth one farthing, Compar'd to _Haymarket_, and _Convent-garden_: Quit those, ye British Youth, and follow these, Turn players all, and take your 'Squires degrees. Boast not your incomes now, as heretofore, Ye book-learn'd Seats! the Theatres have more: Ye stiff-rump'd heads of Colleges be dumb, A singing Eunuch gets a larger Sum. Have some of you three hundred by the Year, _Booth_, _Rich_, and _Cibber_, twice three thousand clear. Should _Oxford_ to her sister _Cambridge_ join A Year's _Rack-rent_, and _Arbitrary fine_: Thence not one winter's charge would be defray'd, For Playhouse, Opera, Ball, and Masquerade. Glad I congratulate the judging Age, The players are the world, the world the stage. I am a Politician too, and hate Of any party, ministers of state: I'm for an _Act_, that he, who sev'n whole Years Has serv'd his _King_ and _Country_, lose his ears. Thus from my birth I'm qualified you find, To give the laws of _Taste_ to humane kind. Mine are the gallant Schemes of Politesse, For books, and buildings, politicks, and dress. This is _True Taste_, and whoso likes it not, Is blockhead, coxcomb, puppy, fool, and sot.

[1] Bently's Milton, Book 9. Ver. 439.

_BOOKS printed for_ LAWTON GILLIVER _at_ Homer'_s_ _Head over-against St._ Dunitan's _Church in_ Fleetstreet.

Of _False Taste_. An Epistle to the Earl of _Burlington_. By Mr. POPE.

_The Use of Riches_, an Epistle to the Right Honourable _Allen_ Lord _Bathurst_. By the same Author.

The first Satire of the Second Book of _Horace_, Imitated in a Dialogue between _Alexander Pope_, Esq; on the one Part, and his Learned Council on the other.

The _Dunciad_: A New Edition with some additional Epigrams.

_A Collection of Pieces_ in Prose and Verse; occasioned by the Dunciad. Dedicated to the Earl of _Middlesex_, by _Richard Savage_, Esq;

_An Essay on Satyre_; particularly the Dunciad. By _Walter Hart_, A. M.

_Harlequin-Horace_: Or, the Art of Modern Poetry.

Two _Epistles_ to Mr. _Pope_, concerning the Authors of the Age. By Dr. _Young_.

_Imperium Pelagi_: A Naval Lyrick in Imitation of _Pindar_.

_Athelwold_: A Tragedy. By _Aaron Hill_, Esq;

An _Epistle_ from a young Gentleman at _Rome_ to Mr. _Pope_.

The Progress of Love, 8^o

_Stowe_: The Gardens of Lord _Cobham_, 8^o

The Works of the Right Honourable the Lord _Lansdowne_.

M. Hieronimi Vidae Opera Omnia Poetica, quibus nunc primum adjiciuntur Dialogi de Rei-publicae Dignitate ex Recensione. R. Russel, A. M. 2 Toms 12^o

[GREEK: ANAKPE'ONTOS TEI'OU ME'LE]: Anacreontis Teii Carmina acurate Edita cum Notis perpetuis & Versione Latina Numeris Elegiacis Paraphrastice expressa. Accedunt ejusdem, ut perhibentur, Fragmenta; & Poetriae Sapphus quae Supersunt.

WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

The Augustan Reprint Society

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

The Augustan Reprint Society

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

1948-1949

16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673).

18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).

1949-1950

19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709).

20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).

22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and Two _Rambler_ papers (1750).

23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).

1951-1952

26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).

31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751), and _The Eton College Manuscript_.

1952-1953

41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).

1964-1965

110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700).

111. _Political Justice_ (1736).

113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698).

1965-1966

115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal_ (1705, 1706, 1720, 1722).

116. Charles Macklin, _The Convent Garden Theatre_ (1752).

117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680).

118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662).

120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_ (1740).

1966-1967

124. _The Female Wits_ (1704).

1968-1969

133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral Character of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786).

134. John Downes, _Roscius Anglicanus_ (1708).

135. John Hill, _Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise_ (1766).

136. Thomas Sheridan, _A Discourse Being Introductory to His Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_ (1759).

137. Arthur Murphy, _The Englishman from Paris_ (1756).

1969-1970

138. [Catherine Trotter] _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718).

139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_ (1762).

140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding and Dumpling Burnt to Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1727).

141. Sir Roger L'Estrange, Selections from _The Observator_ (1681-1687).

142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing_ (1729).

143. _A Letter From a Clergyman to His Friend, with an Account of the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726).

144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem_ (1742).

1970-1971

145-146. Thomas Shelton, _A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_ (1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647).

147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782).

149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint_ (1682).

150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the English Stage_ (1687).

1971-1972

151-152. Evan Lloyd, _The Methodist. A Poem_ (1766).

153. _Are These Things So?_ (1740), and _The Great Man's Answer to Are These Things So?_ (1740).

154. Arbuthnotiana: _The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost_ (1712), and _A Catalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library_ (1779).

155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's _Pia Desideria_ (1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund Arwaker.

1972-1973

157. William Mountfort, _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_ (1697).

158. Colley Cibber, _A Letter from Mr. Cibber to Mr. Pope_ (1742).

159. [Catherine Clive], _The Case of Mrs. Clive_ (1744).

160. [Thomas Tryon], _A Discourse ... of Phrensie, Madness or Distraction_ from _A Treatise of Dreams and Visions_ [1689].

161. Robert Blair, _The Grave. A Poem_ (1743).

162. [Bernard Mandeville], _A Modest Defence of Publick Stews_ (1724).

1973-1974

163. [William Rider], _An Historical and Critical Account of the Lives and Writings of the Living Authors of Great Britain_ (1762).

164. Thomas Edwards, _The Sonnets of Thomas Edwards_ (1765, 1780).

165. Hildebrand Jacob, _Of the Sister Arts; An Essay_ (1734).

166. _Poems on the Reign of William III_ [1690, 1696, 1699, 1702].

167. Kane O'Hara, _Midas: An English Burletta_ (1766).

168. [Daniel Defoe], _A Short Narrative History of the Life and Actions of His Grace John, D. of Marlborough_ (1711).

* * * * *

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