And, at no very distant page,
Was seen to figure on the stage;
The Lady all her points had carried,
Was rich, and had the Pleader married;
Had chang'd her uncle's name of Squeeze'em
To her shrewd husband's, Lawyer Seize'em:
Who, by his cunning and his skill,
Had brought all contests to her will,
When he had got his promis'd fee
Of Beauty, Wealth and Luxury.
To her, with smiles of gay content,
The 'Squire his eager footsteps bent,
And did in lofty tone proclaim
His change of fortune as of name;
And told her it would be his pride,
At a small Fête would she preside,
Which he propos'd in style to give,
Where he would all her friends receive;
For this was now the only way
He had to make his party gay:
And the first flourish of his plan
To figure as a Gentleman.
—She smil'd and said she'd bring him plenty,
Then ask'd at once his cards for twenty.
—The fête was given,—the dance, the song,
And feasting did the night prolong,
Which pleasure gave to full two score,
Whom he had never seen before;—
But, his great object to maintain,
These he must strive to see again;
At all their doors his cards present,
And thus, by various compliment,
To form a circle of such friends
As would secure his serious ends,
In social ease to pass the day,
And often find an evening gay.
—But 'Squire Free-born quickly found
He did not tread on solid ground,
And 'gan to fear he should not see
The way to that society,
Which forms of life the happiest measure:
By mutual interchange of pleasure.
—'Twas but slight chat if he should meet
His new acquaintance in the street;
He seldom found, or more or less,
But gen'ral forms of politesse,
And that, too often, at the best,
Was but in flimsy style exprest.
—Ladies would ask him to the play,
To take his arm and let him pay;
And when to cards, he always lost
More than the wine and biscuits cost.
He found, as yet, but little done—
'Twas neither common sense nor fun,
Where kind regard would ne'er encrease,
And int'rest wak'd the wish to please;
Where words were either cold or hearty,
As he propos'd to give a party;
And a good supper was the charm
That did to transient friendship warm,
For that, alas, no longer lasted,
Than while they thought on what they tasted. |
