Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/148

136 Then I, who have within these precincts kept, And ne'er beyond the chimneysweeper's stept, Will take a loose, and venture to be seen, Since 'twill be Sunday, upon Shanks's green; There, with erected looks and phrase sublime, To talk of unity of place and time, And with much malice, mix'd with little satire, Explode the wits on t'other side o' th' water. Why has my lord Godolphin's special grace Invested me with a queen's waiter's place, If I, debarr'd of festival delights, Am not allow'd to spend the perquisites? He's but a short remove from being mad, Who at a time of jubilee is sad, And, like a griping usurer, does spare His money to be squander'd by his heir; Flutter'd away in liveries and in coaches, And washy sorts of feminine debauches. As for my part, whate'er the world may think, I'll bid adieu to gravity, and drink; And, though I can't put off a woeful mien, Will be all mirth and cheerfulness within: As, in despight of a censorious race, I most incontinently suck my face. What mighty projects does not he design, Whose stomach flows, and brain turns round with wine? Wine, powerful wine, can thaw the frozen cit, And fashion him to humour and to wit; Makes even S**** to disclose his art, By racking every secret from his heart, As he flings off the statesman's sly disguise, To name the cuckold's wife with whom he lies. Ev'n