Classic Poem

Among all the arts which to please we pursue,
Our surest success still attends on what's new,
'Tis novelty pleases alike one and all,
From the high to the low, the great and the small;
To your services bound, to your pleasures still true,
We humbly now offer you, something that's new.
To obtain this great point, tho' often we try,
Our flower drest sonnets soon languish and die;
The soft arts of love, and the heroes due praise,
Have long been worn out, and unfit for our lays,
Yet still as your pleasure is all we've in view,
What we offer at present, we hope will be new.

Ye wits and ye critics, ye belles and ye beaux,
Ye lovers of wine, and ye lovers of cloaths;
Ye lovers of women, of tattle, of wit,
To each, and to all, our song is now writ;
To please all alike we endeavour to do,
And that you'll agree will be new, very new.

When the wits cease to censure the unthinking age,
When critics in praise of the moderns engage;
When fops cease admiring their dress and their parts,
When belles cease their ogling and angling for hearts,
When the toper his bottle shall cease to pursue,
You all will agree this is new, very new.

When gamesters grow honest and quit cards and dice,
When prudes shall cease calling of wenching a vice,
When tattlers shall cease at each other to rail,
And truth, honest truth, shall o'er scandal prevail;
When all married folks, to each other are true,
You will readily cry, this is new, very new.

When the laugher shall cease to be pleas'd with a joak,
When the courage of braggarts shall cease to be smoak,
When misers forget their old hoards to encrease,
When party and rage, thro' the nation shall cease,
When all this shall happen, I doubt not but you,
Will strait clap your hands, and allow this is new.