And wond’rous is the King in sheep or calf!
But see! the Prince upon such labour looks
Fastidious down, and only readeth books.
Here by the Sire the son is much surpast;
Which fame should publish on her loudest blast!
The King beats Monmouth-street in cast-off riches;
That is, in coats, and waistcoats, and in breeches;
Which, draughted once a year for foreign stations,
Make fine recruits to serve some near relations.
But lo! the Prince, shame on him! never dreams