Читать книгу A Satire Anthology - Wells Carolyn - Страница 46

NOW my lord had the honour of coming down

post,

To pay his respects to so famous a toast,

In hopes he her ladyship’s favour might win,

By playing the part of a host at an inn.

I’m sure he’s a person of great resolution,

Though delicate nerves and a weak constitution;

For he carried us all to a place ’cross the river,

And vowed that the rooms were too hot for his liver.

He said it would greatly our pleasure promote,

If we all for Spring Gardens set out in a boat.

I never as yet could his reason explain,

Why we all sallied forth in the wind and the rain;

For sure such confusion was never yet known;

Here a cap and a hat, there a cardinal blown;

While his lordship, embroidered and powdered all o’er,

Was bowing, and handing the ladies ashore.

How the Misses did huddle, and scuddle, and run!

One would think to be wet must be very good fun;

For by waggling their tails, they all seemed to take pains

To moisten their pinions like ducks when it rains.

And ’twas pretty to see how, like birds of a feather,

The people of quality flocked all together;

All pressing, addressing, caressing, and fond,

Just the same as these animals are in a pond.

You’ve read all their names in the news, I suppose,

But, for fear you have not, take the list as it goes:

There was Lady Greasewrister,

And Madam Van-Twister,

Her ladyship’s sister;

Lord Cram, and Lord Vulter,

Sir Brandish O’Culter,

With Marshal Carouzer,

And old Lady Mouzer,

And the great Hanoverian Baron Panzmowzer;

Besides many others, who all in the rain went,

On purpose to honour this great entertainment.

The company made a most brilliant appearance,

And ate bread and butter with great perseverance;

All the chocolate, too, that my lord set before ’em,

The ladies despatched with the utmost decorum.

Soft musical numbers were heard all around,

The horns and the clarions echoing sound.

Sweet were the strains, as odourous gales that blow

O’er fragrant banks, where pinks and roses grow.

The peer was quite ravish, while close to his side

Sat Lady Bunbutter, in beautiful pride.

Oft turning his eyes, he with rapture surveyed

All the powerful charms she so nobly displayed;

As when at the feast of the great Alexander,

Timotheus, the musical son of Thersander,

Breathed heavenly measures.

The prince was in pain,

And could not contain,

While Thais was sitting beside him;

But, before all his peers,

Was for shaking the spheres,

Such goods the kind gods did provide him.

Grew bolder and bolder,

And cocked up his shoulder,

Like the son of great Jupiter Ammon,

Till at length, quite opprest,

He sunk on her breast,

And lay there, as dead as a salmon.

Oh, had I a voice that was stronger than steel,

With twice fifty tongues to express what I feel,

And as many good mouths, yet I never could utter

All the speeches my lord made to Lady Bunbutter!

So polite all the time, that he ne’er touched a bit,

While she ate up his rolls and applauded his wit;

For they tell me that men of true taste, when they treat,

Should talk a great deal, but they never should eat;

And if that be the fashion, I never will give

Any grand entertainment as long as I live;

For I’m of opinion, ’tis proper to cheer

The stomach and bowels as well as the ear.

Nor me did the charming concerto of Abel

Regale like the breakfast I saw on the table;

I freely will own I the muffins preferred

To all the genteel conversation I heard.

E’en though I’d the honour of sitting between

My Lady Stuff-damask and Peggy Moreen,

Who both flew to Bath in the nightly machine.

Cries Peggy: “This place is enchantingly pretty;

We never can see such a thing in the city.

You may spend all your lifetime in Cateaton Street,

And never so civil a gentleman meet;

You may talk what you please, you may search London through,

You may go to Carlisle’s, and to Almack’s, too,

And I’ll give you my head if you find such a host,

For coffee, tea, chocolate, butter, and toast.

How he welcomes at once all the world and his wife,

And how civil to folks he ne’er saw in his life!”

“These horns,” cries my lady, “so tickle one’s ear,

Lord! what would I give that Sir Simon was here!

To the next public breakfast Sir Simon shall go,

For I find here are folks one may venture to know.

Sir Simon would gladly his lordship attend,

And my lord would be pleased with so cheerful a friend.”

So, when we had wasted more bread at a breakfast

Than the poor of our parish have ate for this week past,

I saw, all at once, a prodigious great throng

Come bustling, and rustling, and jostling along;

For his lordship was pleased that the company now

To my Lady Bunbutter should courtesy and bow;

And my lady was pleased, too, and seemed vastly proud

At once to receive all the thanks of a crowd.

And when, like Chaldeans, we all had adored

This beautiful image set up by my lord,

Some few insignificant folk went away,

Just to follow the employments and calls of the day;

But those who knew better their time how to spend,

The fiddling and dancing all chose to attend.

Miss Clunch and Sir Toby performed a cotillion,

Just the same as our Susan and Bob the postilion;

All the while her mamma was expressing her joy

That her daughter the morning so well could employ.

Now, why should the Muse, my dear mother, relate

The misfortunes that fall to the lot of the great?

As homeward we came, ’tis with sorrow you’ll hear

What a dreadful disaster attended the peer;

For whether some envious god had decreed

That a naiad should long to ennoble the breed,

Or whether his lordship was charmed to behold

His face in the stream, like Narcissus of old,

In handing old Lady B – and daughter,

This obsequious lord tumbled into the water;

But a nymph of the flood brought him safe to the boat,

And I left all the ladies a-cleaning his coat.