Classic Poem

Mr. Wealthy

Well! now my dear, beloved Wife,
We must extend our plan of life.
How will our country cousins stare,
To see me soon a great Lord-May'r!

MRS. Wealthy.

The rich State-Coach you will not grace,
Adorn'd by Chaplain, Sword, and Mace.
As for myself, the golden Chain
I must confess will make me vain;
And then how much shall be delighted,
When by his Majesty you're knighted!
Adieu now to my one horse chair,
I'll have a Coach to take the air.
With speed we'll quit vile Wormwood-Street,
And decorate our Country-seat;
The House must be entirely furnish'd,
And all the Glasses, gilt and burnish'd.

MR. Wealthy.

Figures I'll buy to grace the nitches,
And make canals of all the ditches;
Which, slor'd with various kinds of fish,
On Sundays may afford a dish,
The Sheriffs richly to regale,
With Poultry, Beef, and Yorkshire Ale.
Thus much I promise all my party,
An English welcome, rough and hearty.

MRS. Wealthy.

Indeed, my dear! you shock my sight;
I fear you'll never grow polite.
I, to be sure, was born a heiress,
And fit to be a Lady-May'ress;
But as for you, with all your riches,
You wear such dirty Leather-Breeches;
And such a frightful shabby wig,
It looks like bristles of a Pig.
Your Day-Book and your Ledger seem,
To be your most engaging theme.
What need so often to repeat,
Your expectations of the Fleet!
And then you talk so much of Trade,
Boasting your debts are punctual paid:
Which is not now at all the fashion.

MR. Wealthy.

You really put me in a passion.
Politeness is an empty name:
On Riches I depend for fame.
M RS . Wealthy.

With all your mighty boasted wealth,
You neither taste of peace or health.
I hate entravagance and waste,
Yet like things in the modern taste.
Your Father's meanness you inherit,
And have no proper pride or spirit.
When at the Mansion-House I live,
Such Entertainments I will give,
And such a Lord-May'rs feast and ball,
As shall delight the crouded hall.
No Barbers, Clowns, or paltry Singers.
Or Pick-Pockets with nimble fingers,
But people of the first degree,
Shall form the brilliant company.

MR. Wealthy.

We must not break establish'd rules,
To banish Knaves, Poltroons, or Fools;
The Aldermen must hold their place,
And serve the Cavalcade to grace;
By help of whom, the Lord-May'rs day,
Will City consequence display;
The Common-Council are invited,
And all their families delighted.
Our Barges are extremely fine,
Bless me! what plenty when we dine.
The liquor like a mighty ocean.
Affords an inexhaustless potion,
Of which we quaff like eager fish;
Like Cormorants attack each dish;
Transported by our happy fare,
Talk Politics. Eat, Drink, and Swear.

MRS. Wealthy.

I hate these kind of brutal feasts,
Less fit for Men than savage beasts;
Below the brute creation sunk,
When by intemperance they're drunk.

MR. Wealthy.

I must confess 'tis very wrong,
Those faults to Citizens belong;
We glory in our Cent. per Cent,
On profit ever found intent;
And laugh at vain ideal schemes,
Fictitious fancies, idle dreams,
Chimeras of the ton, and taste,
And spendthrists fortunes soon laid waste:
Marking the fall and rise of stocks,
We keep our deeds in iron box.

MRS. Wealthy.

Pray when shall Juliet come from France?
On Easter-Monday how she'll dance!
I think my dear, we'll fetch her over;
Or meet her when she comes to Dover;
Her education is complete,
And for her height, 'tis near six feet.

MR. Wealthy.

How much of all her charms you boast!

MRS. Wealthy.

I could engage she'll be a toast.
Juliet is quite her mother's daughter,
And will occasion desp'rate slaughter;
For, as you know, when I was young,
My beauty did not pass unsung:
I always made a mighty shew,
And hop'd to gain an Earl or Beau.
But after all my care and pains,
My father sought substantial gains;
And threaten'd his severe displeasure,
If I refus'd your worship's treasure.
Thus, in the prime and pride of life,
I was compell'd to be your wife.
Nor should I murmur at my lot,
If you your vulgar ways forgot;
And was for Magistracy fit,
With grace and dignity to fit.
I cannot but, my dear, declare,
That now I wish, you wore your Hair.
Your aukward Taylor has no taste;
Your clothes must be superbly lac'd.
Yet, after all, you'll look so rough,
To my rich gems, and silver stuff.
Methinks, I see the servants wait,
To follow us to Court in state.
King of the City! what a sound!
Myself the Queen! my head turns round!
My Daughter too, the Princess Roast!
I hope our subjects will be loyal.
Inlist in Freedom's glorious cause;
The surest means to gain applause.

MR. Wealthy.

Of Cash I have such wond'rous plenty,
That Earls or Dukes, I'd purchase twenty;
And therefore have no cause to spare,
My riches to exalt my heir;
So that I am resolv'd to spend,
My money with a cheerful friend,
At Newington I mean to build
A Drawing-Room, with pictures fill'd;
Then I'll pull down that odious paling,
And have some wooden Chinese railing;
That we may see the road with ease;
Which all our visitors will please.
Upon our spacious rural lawn,
We'll keep some sheep, and feed the sawn;
Some able workman shall repair,
The ruins and the root-house chair.
I have my eye on Farmer Craddock,
To buy his fields to make a Paddock.
How very great a paddock sounds,
Well stor'd with deer, and flocks, and hounds!
When I have gain'd sufficient treasure,
I then will be a man of pleasure;
Build and rebuild, plant and lay waste,
Agreeable to the rules of taste;
The country air will make me healthy,
And who so great as Sir John Wealthy!