Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/64

 Long has this darling Quarter of the Town, For Lewdness, Wit, and Gallantry been known. All Sorts meet here, of whatsoe'er Degree, To blend and justle into Harmony. The Criticks each advent'rous Author scan, And praise or censure as They like the Man. The Weeds of Writings for the Flowers They cull; So nicely Tafteless, so correctly Dull! The Politicians of Parnassus prate, And Poets canvass the Affairs of State; The Cits ne'er talk of Trade and Stock, but tell How Virgil writ, how bravely Turnus fell. The Country-Dames drive to Hippolito's, First find a Spark, and after lose a Nose, The Lawyer for Lac'd Coat the Robe does quit, He grows a Mad-man, and then turns a Wit, And in the Cloister pensive Strephon waits, 'Till Chloe's Hackney comes, and then retreats; And if th'ungenerous Nymph a Shaft lets fly More fatally than from a sparkling Eye, Mirmillo, that fam'd Opifer, is nigh.

The trading Tribe oft thither throng to Dine, And want of Elbow-room supply in Wine. Cloy'd with Variety they surfeit there, Whilst the wan Patients on thin Gruel fare. 'Twas here the Champions of the Party met, Of their Heroick Enterprize to treat. Each Heroe a tremendous Air put on, And stern Mirmillo in these Words begun: 'Tis