31 God never made a thing like that, No, 'tis of pride the monstrous brat, 32 See how it scuds with all its sails And, bounding forward, courts his gales, 33 The savage woman, and the mad, 34 The old, by paint and powder try, 35 These ancient pieces fashion give 36 Ye young and beautiful, how long Your blooming charms in such a throng 37 Fashion is surely but a cheat, The beggar should go plain. 38 What slave would yield at his command, Not void of common sense, To be a fool at second hand, And at too great expense? 39 In one the beau and beggar seen! A mule like this hath never been 40 How can the golden calves endure Who its appearance to procure, 41 'Twas Satan taught us first to wish From hence the far sought costly dish, 42 Asham'd, we clothing then requir'd, 43 'Tis by comparison that things 44 The little mind still magnifies The great, diminishes their size 45 As man beholds a grain of sand, A mite sees mountains, level land, 46 You who find greatness in your lace, 47 What, vain of clothing, which you took To hide what cannot bear a look, 48 The slaves of fashion vaunt in view That they may teach both me and you, 49 They shew their splendour, great and high, 'Oh dear! how rich they are!' 50 What folly here to look for taste! 'Tis more than gold can buy; Of wealth indeed there is a waste, But for the tasteless eye. 51 To them our envy and our praise They poorly take for fame. 52 Who, by himself, to heaven will go, Which upward treads thro' Alps of snow, 53 Who would not righteous strive to be, Or who hath sense enough to see, 54 A singularity, tho' good, The mode will not endure, 55 Yet, what can pride or fashion do But set him up for knaves to woo, 56 When to the grave this fool goes down, 57 At fashion in its gaudy pride, Amidst his strut and haughty stride, 58 Yet to the fashion of the times And live in folly, or in crimes, 59 To fashion, as their god, they bow, 60 Their eating, drinking, he prescribes, Are kept but as his schools. 61 Religion, reason, nature, now Down from the sceptre to the plough, 62 Sin, sickness, pain, and death ensue, 63 Yes, duellists from fashion draw 64 From him the pistol takes its charge, 65 Two haughty fools, not satisfy'd, At death's approach than these : 67 But fashion loudly clamours,' fight,' 68 Honour! what honour can accrue 69 Can they despise both life and death, As if the first were but a breath 70 Asham'd alike of prayer and dram, Then fiercely swagger, curse, and damn, 71 Yet for the sheriff anxious long, Forget the insult, slight the wrong, 72 Pray, don't recall them, for they go 'Tis dang'rous all their neighbours know, 73 Who in a steeple, near the bell, 74 The caitiffs go as desperate men, 75 Two sorts of infidels are found, Into the place of God, and ground 76 The first is of that atheist head, The world by chance was made; 77 The second, of that atheist heart, Which would exclude all rule Of Providence, but his own art 78 By gaming this is brought about, Which fashion, at the drum and rout, 79 To these and such assemblies now 80 The same devotion sharpers too, But, 'midst the dolts, by art pursue |