Classic Poem

Oh, beware of excess — 'tis an error in life,
Into which one would wonder, a wit should be slipping;
What a schism, in an orthodox clergyman's wife ,
When we talk of baptizing , to think we mean dipping!

Were your love but as much over-dos'd, as your drops ,
You would leave Mr. Forster no lip-room, for pray'rs ;
And complaint, from his parish , wou'd come, thick as hops ,
'Gainst engrossing a breath , in which others have shares.

Both the sexes assert, and the whole world agrees,
That too much of what's good , is scarce better than ill ,
Tho' the ladies have pow'r, to decree what they please,
And have got an exception put in for Quadrille .

He, who likes what you say, by your sprightliness , warm'd,
Shou'd you still, without stopping , run on, to say more,
Wou'd be vex'd, to perceive himself more and more charm'd ,
E're allow'd to declare , how you charm'd him before.

T HERE'S a medium , in all things, as when Mrs. Raikes
Has, for ten hours together, her Cynic alarm'd;
Prudence , parting 'em, timely, for both their dear sakes,
Keeps 'em free from the danger of being uncharm'd.

So, a few drops of Nitre , dispos'd to ascend,
Had arriv'd at your head , nor been taken, in vain;
But the weight of so many — only serv'd a wrong end ,
And, mistaking the place , double-pointed the pain .