Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/420

 Thy virtues meet their just reward, Attended by the sable guard. Charm'd by thy voice, the 'prentice drops The snow-ball destin'd at thy chops: Thy graceful steps, and colonel's air, Allure the cinder-picking fair. M. No more — in mark of true affection, I take thee under my protection: Your parts are good, 'tis not deny'd; I wish they had been well apply'd. But now observe my council, (viz.) Adapt your habit to your phyz; You must no longer thus equip ye, As Horace says, eptat ephippia; (There 's Latin too, that you may see How much improv'd by Dr. ) I have a coat at home, that you may try; 'Tis just like this, which hangs by geometry. My hat has much the nicer air; Your block will fit it to a hair: That wig, I would not for the world Have it so formal, and so curl'd; 'Twill be so oily and so sleek, When I have lain in it a week, You'll find it well prepar'd to take The figure of toupee and snake. Thus dress'd alike from top to toe, That which is which 'tis hard to know; When first in publick we appear, I'll lead the van, you keep the rear: Be careful, as you walk behind; Use all the talents of your mind; Be studious well to imitate My portly motion, mien, and gait; Mark