My province is, to see that all be right,
Glasses and linen clean, and pewter bright;
From our mysterious club to keep out spies,
And tories (dress'd like waiters) in disguise.
You shall be coupled as you best approve,
Seated at table next the men you love.
Sunderland, Orford, Boyle, and Richmond's grace,
Will come; and Hampden shall have Walpole's place.
Wharton, unless prevented by a whore,
Will hardly fail; and there is room for more.
But I love elbowroom whene'er I drink;
And honest Harry[1] is too apt to stink.
Let no pretence of business make you stay;
Yet take one word of counsel by the way.
If Guernsey calls, send word you're gone abroad;
He'll teaze you with king Charles, and bishop Laud,
Or make you fast, and carry you to prayers:
But, if he will break in, and walk up stairs,
Steal by the backdoor out, and leave him there;
Then order Squash to call a hackney chair.
- ↑ Right Hon. Henry Boyle, mentioned twice before.
Fœcundi calices quem non fecere disertum?
Contractâ quem non in paupertate solutum?
Hæc ego procurare et idoneus imperor, et non
Invitus; ne turpe toral, ne sordida inappa
Corrugat nares; ne non et cantharus, et lanx,
Ostendat tibi te; ne fidos inter amicos
Sit, qui dicta foras eliminet: ut coëat par,
Jungaturque pari. Brutum tibi, Septimiumque,
Et, nisi cœna prior potiorque puella Sabinum
Detinet, assumam; locus est et pluribus umbris:
Sed nimis arcta premunt olidæ convivia capræ.
Tu, quotus esse velis, rescribe; et rebus omissis,
Atria servantem postico falle clientem.
