Plate VIII.
Our trade is encouraged as much, if not more, By the tender soft sex I shall ever adore; But their husbands, those brutes, have been known to complain, And swear they will never set foot here again. Ye wretches ingrate! To find fault with your wives, The comfort, the solace, and joy of your lives; Oh! that women, whose price is so far above rubies, Should fall to the lot of such ignorant boobies! Doesn't Solomon speak of such women with rapture, In verse the eleventh and thirty-first chapter? And surely that wise King of Israel knew What belonged to a woman much better than you! He says, 'If you find out a virtuous wife, She will do a man good all the days of her life; She deals like a merchant, she sitteth up late.' And you'll find it is written in verse twenty-eight, Her husband is sure to be known at the gate: He never hath need or occasion for spoil, When his wife is much better employ'd all the while; She seeketh fine wool, and fine linen she buys, And is clothed in purple and scarlet likewise. Now, pray, don't your wives do the very same thing, And follow th' advice of that worthy old king? Do they spare for expenses themselves in adorning? Don't they go about buying fine things all the morning? And at cards all the night take the trouble to play, To get back the money they spent in the day? But these to their husbands more profit can yield, And are much like a lily that grows in the field; They toil not, indeed, nor, indeed, do they spin, Yet they never are idle when once they begin, But are very intent on increasing their store, And always keep shuffling and cutting for more. Industrious creatures! that make it a rule To secure half the fish, while they manage the pool; Methinks I should like to excel in a trade By which such a number their fortunes have made. I've heard of a wise, philosophical Jew, That shuffles the cards in a manner that's new; One Jonas, I think; and could wish for the future To have that illustrious sage for my tutor; And the Captain, whose kindness I ne'er can forget, Will teach me a game that he calls lansquenet.
COMFORTS OF BATH. IX.
Plate IX.
SONG, WRITTEN AT MR. GILL'S, AN EMINENT COOK AT BATH.
Of all the cooks the world can boast, However great their skill, To bake or fry, to boil or roast, There's none like Master Gill.
Sweet rhyming troop, no longer stoop To drink Castalia's rill; Whene'er ye droop O taste the soup That's made by Master Gill.
'Tis this that makes my Chloe's lips Ambrosial sweets distil; For leeks and cabbage oft she sips In soup that's made by Gill.