A Letter for My Son to One of His Schoolfellows, Son to Henry Rose, Esq

Dear Rose , as I lately was writing some Verse,
Which I next Day intended in School to rehearse;
My Mother came in, and I thought she'd run wild:

" This Mr. Macmullen has ruin'd my child:
" He uses me ill, and the World shall know it;
" I sent you to Latin , he makes you a Poet:
" A fine Way of training a Shopkeeper's Son!
" 'Twould better become him to teach you to dun:
" Let him teach both his Wit, and his Rhyming, to Rose ;
" And give you some Lessons, to help to sell Cloaths:
" He 'll have an Estate, and 'twill do very well,
" That he, like his Father, in Arts should excel;
" But for you , if your Father will take my Advice,
" He'll send you no more, till he lowers his Price:
" A Guinea a Quarter! 'tis monstrously dear —
" You might learn to dance , for four Guineas a Year:
" Then, Sir, tell your Master, That these are hard Times;
" And Paper's too dear to be wasted in Rhymes:
" I'll teach you a Way of employing it better,
" As July the fifteenth, Lord Levington Debtor :
" You may rhyme till you're blind, what arises from thence?
" But Debtor and Creditor brings in the Pence:
" Those beggarly Muses but come for a Curse;
" But give me the Wit, that puts Gold in the Purse. "

From what she then told me, I plainly discern,
What different Lessons we Scholars must learn.
You're happy, dear Rose ; for, as far as I find,
You've nothing to do, but embellish your Mind.
What different Tasks are assign'd us by Fate!
'Tis yours to become , mine to get an Estate.
Then, Rose , mind your Learning, whatever you do;
For I have the easier Task of the two.
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