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THE NEW BATH GUIDE: OR, MEMOIRS of the B—R—D FAMILY.

In a SERIES of POETICAL EPISTLES.

Nullus in orbe locus Baiis praelucet amoenis. Hor.

Sold by J. DODSLEY, in Pall-Mall; J. WILSON & J. FELL, in Pater-noſter-Row; and J. ALMON, in Piccadilly, London; W. FREDERICK, at Bath; W. JACKSON, at Oxford; T. FLETCHER & F. HODSON, at Cambridge; W. SMITH, at Dublin; and the Bookſellers of Briſtol, York, and Edinburgh. 1766.

To the READER.

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I Here preſent you with a Collection of Letters, written by a Family, during their Reſidence at BATH. The firſt of them, from a Romantic Young Lady, addreſs'd to her Friend in the Country, will bring you acquainted with the reſt of the Characters, and ſave you the Trouble of reading a dull introductory Preface from

Your Humble Servant, THE EDITOR.

THE CONTENTS.

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Miſs JENNY W—D—R to Lady ELIZ. M—D—SS, at — Caſtle, North. LETTER I. CONTAINING, A View from the Parades at BATH, with ſome Account of the DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

SWEET are yon Hills, that crown this fertile Vale!
Ye genial Springs! PIERIAN Waters, hail!
Hail, Woods and Lawns! Yes—oft I'll tread
Yon' Pine-clad Mountain's Side,
Oft trace the gay enamel'd Mead,
Where AVON rolls his Pride.
Sure, next to fair CASTALIA's Streams
And PINDUS' flow'ry Path,
APOLLO moſt the Springs eſteems,
And verdant Meads of Bath.
[6]
The Muſes haunt theſe hallow'd Groves
And here their Vigils keep,
Here teach fond Swains their hapleſs Loves
In gentle Strains to weep.
From Water ſprung like Flow'rs from Dew
What Troops of Bards appear!
The God of Verſe, and Phyſic too,
Inſpires them twice a Year.
Take then, my Friend, the ſprightly Rhyme,
While you inglorious waſte your Prime,
At Home in cruel Durance pent,
On dull domeſtic Cares intent,
Forbid, by Parent's harſh Decree,
To ſhare the Joys of Bath with me.
Ill-judging Parent! blind to Merit,
Thus to confine a Nymph of Spirit!
With all thy Talents doom'd to fade
And wither in th' unconſcious Shade!
[7]I vow, my Dear, it moves my Spleen,
Such frequent Inſtances I've ſeen
Of Fathers, cruel and unkind,
To all paternal Duty blind.
What Wretches do we meet with often,
Whoſe Hearts no Tenderneſs can ſoften!
Sure all good Authors ſhould expoſe
Such Parents, both in Verſe and Proſe,
And Nymphs inſpire with Reſolution,
Ne'er to ſubmit to Perſecution.
This wholeſome Satyr much enhances
The Merit of our beſt Romances;
And modern Plays, that I could mention,
With Judgment fraught, and rare Invention
Are wrote with much the ſame Intention;
But, thank my Stars! that worthy Pair
Who undertook a Guardian's Care,
My Spirit never have confin'd:
(An Inſtance of their gen'rous Mind)
[8]For Lady B—N—R—D, my Aunt,
Herſelf propos'd this charming Jaunt,
All from Redundancy of Care
For SIM, her fav'rite Son and Heir:
To him the joyous Hours I owe
That Bath's enchanting Scenes beſtow;
Thanks to her Book of choice Receipts,
That pamper'd Him with ſav'ry Meats;
Nor leſs that Day deſerves a Bleſſing
She cramm'd his Siſter to Exceſs in:
For now ſhe ſends both Son and Daughter
For Crudities to drink the Water.
And here they are, all Bile and Spleen,
The ſtrangeſt Fiſh that e'er were ſeen;
With TABBY RUNT, their Maid, poor Creature,
The queereſt Animal in Nature:
I'm certain none of HOGARTH's Sketches
E'er form'd a Set of ſtranger Wretches.
I own, my Dear, it hurts my Pride,
To ſee them blund'ring by my Side;
[9]My Spirits flag, my Life and Fire
Is mortify'd au Deſeſpoir,
When SIM, unfaſhionable Ninny,
In Public calls me Couſin Jenny;
And yet, to give the Wight his Due,
He has ſome Share of Humour too,
A comic Vein of pedant Learning
His Converſation you'll diſcern in,
The oddeſt Compound you can ſee
Of Shrewdneſs and Simplicity,
With nat'ral Strokes of aukward Wit,
That oft, like Parthian Arrows hit,
For when He ſeems to dread the Foe
He always ſtrikes the hardeſt Blow;
And when you'd think He means to flatter,
His Panegyrics turn to Satire:
But then no Creature you can find
Knows half ſo little of Mankind,
Seems always blund'ring in the dark,
And always making ſome Remark;
[10]Remarks, that ſo provoke one's Laughter,
One can't imagine what he's after:
And ſure you'll thank me for exciting
In SIM a wondrous Itch for Writing;
With all his ſerious Grimace
To give Deſcriptions of the Place.
No Doubt his Mother will produce
His Poetry for gen'ral Uſe,
And if his Bluntneſs does not fright you,
His Obſervations muſt delight you;
For truly the good Creature's Mind
Is honeſt, generous, and kind:
If unprovok'd, will ne'er diſpleaſe ye,
Or ever make one Soul uneaſy.—
I'll try to make his Siſter PRUE
Take a ſmall Trip to Pindus too.
And me the Nine ſhall all inſpire
To tune for Thee the warbling Lyre;
For Thee, the Muſe ſhall ev'ry Day
Speed, by the Poſt, her rapid Way.
[11]For Thee, my Friend, I'll oft explore
Deep Treaſures of Romantic Lore,
Nor wonder, if I Gods create,
As all good Bards have done of late;
'Twill make my Verſe run ſmooth and even,
To call new Deities from Heaven:
Come then, thou Goddeſs I adore,
But ſoft—my Chairman's at the Door,
The Ball's begun—my Friend, no more.
J—W—D—R.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S—B—N—R—D to Lady B—N—R—D, at—Hall, North. LETTER II. Mr. B—N—R—D's Reflections on his Arrival at Bath.—The Caſe of Himſelf and Co.—The Acquaintance He commences, &c. &c.

[12]
WE all are a wonderful Diſtance from Home!
Two Hundred and Sixty long Miles are we come!
And ſure you'll rejoice, my dear Mother, to hear
We are ſafely arriv'd at the Sign of the Bear.
'Tis a plaguy long Way!—but I ne'er can repine,
As my Stomach is weak, and my Spirits decline:
For the People ſay here,—be whatever your Caſe,
You are ſure to get well, if you come to this Place.—
Miſs JENNY made Fun, as ſhe always is wont,
Of PRUDENCE my Siſter, and TABITHA RUNT,
And every Moment ſhe heard me complain,
Declar'd I was vapour'd, and laugh'd at my Pain.
[13]What, tho' at Devizes I fed pretty hearty,
And made a good Meal, like the reſt of the Party,
When I came here to Bath, not a Bit could I eat,
Though the Man at the Bear had provided a Treat,
And ſo I went quite out of Spirits to Bed,
With Wind in my Stomach, and Noiſe in my Head.
As we all came for Health, (as a Body may ſay)
I ſent for the Doctor the very next Day,
And the Doctor was pleas'd, tho' ſo ſhort was the Warning,
To come to our Lodgings betimes in the Morning▪
He look'd very thoughtful and grave, to be ſure,
And I ſaid to myſelf,—There's no Hopes of a Cure!
But I thought I ſhould faint when I ſaw him, dear Mother,
Feel my Pulſe with one Hand, with a Watch in the other,
No Token of Death that is heard in the Night
Could ever have put me ſo much in a Fright,
Thinks I—'tis all over—my Sentence is paſt!
And now He is counting how long I may laſt.—
[14]Then He look'd at—and His Face grew ſo long,
I'm ſure He thought ſomething within me was wrong.—
He determin'd our Caſes at length (G-d preſerve us)
I'm Bilious, I find, and the Women are Nervous;
Their Syſtems relax'd, and all turn'd topſy-turvy,
With Hypochondriacs, Obſtructions, and Scurvy:
And theſe are Diſtempers He muſt know the whole on,
For He talk'd of the Peritoneum and Colon,
Of Phleghmatic Humours oppreſſing the Women
From ſoeculent Matter that ſwells the Abdomen;
But the Noiſe I have heard in my Bowels like Thunder
Is a Flatus, I find, in my left Hypochonder.
So Plenty of Med'cines each Day does He ſend
Poſt ſingulas liquidas Sedes ſumend'
Ad Crepitus Veſper: & Man: promovend'
In Engliſh to ſay, we muſt ſwallow a Potion
For driving out Wind after every Motion;
The ſame to continue for Three Weeks at leaſt,
Before we may venture the Waters to taſte.
[15]Five Times have I purg'd,—yet I'm ſorry to tell ye
I find the ſame Gnawing and Wind in my Belly;
But, without any Doubt, I ſhall find myſelf ſtronger,
When I've took the ſame Phyſic a Week or two longer.
He gives little TABBY a great many Doſes,
For he ſays the poor Creature has got the Chloroſis,
Or a ravenous Pica, ſo brought on the Vapours
By ſwallowing Stuff ſhe has read in the Papers,
And often I've marvel'd ſhe ſpent ſo much Money
In Water-Dock Eſſence, and Balſam of Honey;
Such Tinctures, Elixirs, ſuch Pills have I ſeen,
I never could wonder her Face was ſo green.
Yet He thinks He can very ſoon ſet Her to right
With Teſtic: Equin: that ſhe takes ev'ry Night;
And when to her Spirits and Strength He has brought her,
He thinks ſhe may venture to bathe in the Water.—
But PRUDENCE is forc'd ev'ry Day to ride out,
For he ſays ſhe wants thoroughly jumbling about.
Now it happens in this very Houſe is a Lodger,
Whoſe Name's NICODEMUS, but ſome call him ROGER:
[16]And ROGER's ſo good as my Siſter to bump
On a Pillion, as ſoon as ſhe comes from the Pump;
He's a pious good Man, and an excellent Scholar,
And I think it is certain no Harm can befall Her,
For ROGER is conſtantly ſaying his Pray'rs,
And ſinging of ſpiritual Hymns on the Stairs.
But my Couſin Miſs JENNY's as freſh as a Roſe,
And the Captain attends Her wherever ſhe goes:
The Captain's a worthy good Sort of a Man,
For He calls in upon us whenever He can,
And often a Dinner or Supper He takes here,
And JENNY and He talk of MILTON and SHAKESPEAR,
For the Life of me now I can't think of his Name,
But we all got acquainted as ſoon as we came.
Don't wonder, dear Mother, in Verſe I have writ,
For JENNY declares I've a good pretty Wit;
She ſays that ſhe frequently ſends a few Verſes
To Friends and Acquaintance, and often rehearſes:
[17]Declares 'tis the Faſhion, and all the World knows
There's nothing ſo filthy, ſo vulgar as Proſe.
And I hope, as I write without any Connection,
I ſhall make a great Figure in DODSLEY's Collection;
At leaſt, when he chooſes his Book to encreaſe,
I may take a ſmall Flight, as a fugitive Piece.—
But now, my dear Mother, I'm quite at a Stand,
So I reſt your moſt dutiful Son to Command,
SIM. B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Miſs JENNY W—D—R to Lady ELIZ. M—D—SS, at — Caſtle, North. LETTER III. CONTAINING The Birth of FASHION, a Specimen of a Modern Ode.

[18]
SURE there are Charms by Heav'n aſſign'd
To modiſh Life alone,
A Grace, an Air, a Taſte refin'd,
To vulgar Souls unknown.
Nature, my Friend, profuſe in vain
May ev'ry Gift impart,
If unimprov'd, they ne'er can gain
An Empire o'er the Heart.
Dreſs be our Care, in this gay Scene
Of Pleasure's bleſt Abode,
Enchanting Dreſs! if well I ween,
Fit Subject for an Ode.
[19]
Come then, Nymph of various Mien,
Vot'ry true of Beauty's Queen,
Whom the young and ag'd adore,
And thy diff'rent Arts explore,
FASHION, come.—On me a-while
Deign fantaſtic Nymph to ſmile.
MORIA † Thee, in Times of Yore,
To the motley PROTEUS bore;
He, in Biſhop's Robes array'd,
Went one Night to Maſquerade,
Where thy ſimple Mother ſtray'd.
She was clad like harmleſs Quaker,
And was pleas'd my Lord ſhould take her
By the Waiſt, and kindly ſhake her;
And, with Look demure, ſaid ſhe,
"Pray my Lord,—do you know me?
He with ſoothing flatt'ring Arts,
Such as win all female Hearts,
[20]Much extoll'd her Wit and Beauty,
And declar'd it was his Duty,
As ſhe was a Maid of Honour,
To confer his Bleſſing on her.
There mid Dreſs of various Hue,
Crimſon, yellow, green, and blue,
All on Fu [...]belows and Laces,
Slipt into her chaſte Embraces;
Then, like fainted Rogue, cry'd He,
"Little Quaker,—you know me.
Fill'd with Thee ſhe went to France,
Land renown'd for Complaiſance,
Vers'd in Science debonnair,
Bowing, dancing, dreſſing Hair;
There ſhe choſe her Habitation,
Fix'd thy Place of Education.
Nymph, at thy auſpicious Birth
HERE ſtrew'd with Flow'rs the Earth;
Thee to welcome, all the Graces,
Deck'd in Ruffles, deck'd in Laces,
[21]With the God of Love attended,
And the CYPRIAN Queen, deſcended.
Now you trip it o'er the Globe,
Clad in party colour'd Robe,
And, with all thy Mother's Senſe,
Virtues of your Sire diſpenſe.
Goddeſs, if from Hand like mine
Ought be worthy of thy Shrine,
Take the flow'ry Wreath I twine.
Lead, oh! lead me by the Hand,
Guide me with thy Magic Wand;
Whether thou in Lace and Ribbons
Chooſe the Form of Mrs. GIBBONS,
Or the Nymph of ſmiling Look,
At Bath yclept JANETTA COOK.
Bring, O bring thy Eſſence Pot,
Amber, Muſk, and Bergamot,
[22]Eau de Chipre, Eau de Luce,
Sans Parcil, and Citron Juice,
Nor thy Band-Box leave behind,
Fill'd with Stores of ev'ry Kind;
All th' enraptur'd Bard ſuppoſes,
Who to FANCY Odes compoſes;
All that FANCY's ſelf has ſeign'd,
In a Band-Box is contain'd:
Painted Lawns, and chequer'd Shades,
Crape, that's worn by love-lorn Maids,
Water'd Tabbies, flow'r'd Brocades;
Vi'lets, Pinks, Italian Poſies,
Myrtles, Jeſſamin and Roſes,
Aprons, Caps, and 'Kerchiefs clean,
Straw-built Hats, and Bonnets green,
Catgut Gauzes, Tippets, Ruffs,
Fans and Hoods, and feather'd Muffs,
[23]Stomachers, and Parisnets,
Ear-Rings, Necklaces, Aigrets,
Fringes, Blonds, and Mignionets.
Fine Vermillion for the Cheek,
Velvet Patches a la Grecque.
Come, but don't forget the Gloves
Which, with all the ſmiling Loves,
VENUS caught young CUPID picking
From the tender Breaſt of Chicken;
Little Chicken, worthier far
Than the Birds of JUNO's Car,
Soft as CYTHEREA's Dove,
Let thy Skin my Skin improve;
Thou by Night ſhalt grace my Arm,
And by Day ſhalt teach to charm.
Then, O ſweet Goddeſs, bring with Thee
Thy boon Attendant Gaiety,
[24]Laughter, Freedom, Mirth, and Eaſe,
And all the ſmiling Deities;
Fancy, ſpreading painted Sails,
Loves that fan with gentle Gales.—
But hark—methinks I hear a Voice,
My Organs all at once rejoice;
A Voice, that ſays, or ſeems to ſay,
"Siſter, haſten, Siſter gay,
"Come to the Pump-Room,—come away.
J— W—D—R.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER IV. A Conſultation of PHYSICIANS.

[25]
DEAR Mother, my Time has been wretchedly ſpent
With a Gripe or a Hickup wherever I went,
My Stomach all ſwell'd, till I thought it would burſt,
Sure never poor Mortal with Wind was ſo curſt!
If ever I ate a good Supper at Night,
I dream'd of the Devil, and wak'd in a Fright:
And ſo as I grew ev'ry Day worſe and worſe,
The Doctor advis'd me to ſend for a Nurſe;
And the Nurſe was ſo willing my Health to reſtore,
She beg'd me to ſend for a few Doctors more;
For when any difficult Work's to be done,
Many Heads can diſpatch it much ſooner than one;
[26]And I find there are Doctors enough at this Place,
If you want to conſult in a dangerous Caſe.
So they all met together, and thus began talking:
"Good Doctor, I'm your's—'tis a fine Day for walking—
"Sad News in the Papers—G-d knows who's to blame—
"The Colonies ſeem to be all in a Flame—
"This Stamp-Act, no doubt, might be good for the Crown—
"But I ſear 'tis a Pill that will never go down—
"What can Portugal mean?—is She going to ſtir up
"Convulſions and Heats in the Bowels of Europe?
"'Twill be fatal if England relapſes again
"From the ill Blood and Humours of Bourbon and Spain."—
Says I, my good Doctors, I can't underſtand
Why the Deuce ye take ſo many Patients in Hand,
Ye've a great deal of Practice, as far as I find;
But ſince ye're come hither, do pray be ſo kind
To write me down ſomething that's good for the Wind.
No Doubt ye are all of ye great Politicians,
But at preſent my Bowels have need of Phyſicians:
[27]Conſider my Caſe in the Light it deſerves,
And pity the State of my Stomach and Nerves.—
But a tight little Doctor began a Diſpute
About Adminiſtrations, NEW—LE and B—E,
Talk'd much of Oeconomy, much of Proſuſeneſs.—
Says another— "This Caſe, which at firſt was a Looſeneſs,
"Is become a Teneſmus, and all we can do
"Is to give him a gentle Cathartic or two;
"Firſt get off the Phlegm that adheres to the Plicae,
"Then throw in a Med'cine that's pretty and ſpicy,—
"A Peppermint Draught,—or a—Come, let's be gone,
"We've another bad Caſe to conſider at One."
So thus they bruſh'd off, each his Cane at his Noſe,
When JENNY came in, who had heard all their Proſe:
I'll teach them, ſays ſhe, at their next Conſultation,
To come and take Fees for the Good of the Nation.
I could not conceive what the Devil ſhe mean't,
But ſhe ſeiz'd all the Stuff that the Doctor had ſent,
[28]And out of the Window ſhe flung it down ſouſe,
As the firſt Politician went out of the Houſe.
Decoctions and Syrups around him all flew,
The Pill, Bolus, Julep, and Apozem too;
His Wig had the Luck a Cathartic to meet,
And ſquaſh went the Gallipot under his Feet.
She ſaid 'twas a Shame I ſhould ſwallow ſuch Stuff
When my Bowels were weak, and the Phyſic ſo rough;
Declar'd ſhe was ſhock'd that ſo many ſhould come
To be Doctor'd to Death, ſuch a Diſtance from Home,
At a Place where they tell you that Water alone
Can cure all Diſtempers that ever were known.
But what is the pleaſanteſt Part of the Story,
She has order'd for Dinner a Piper and Dory;
For to-Day Captain CORMORANT's coming to dine,
That worthy Acquaintance of JENNY's and mine.
'Tis a Shame to the Army, that Men of ſuch Spirit
Should never obtain the Reward of their Merit,
For the Captain's as gallant a Man, I'll be ſworn,
And as honeſt a Fellow as ever was born;
[29]After ſo many Hardſhips and Dangers incurr'd,
He Himſelf thinks He ought to be better preferr'd;
And ROGER, or what is his Name, NICODEMUS,
Appears full as kind, and as much to eſteem us;
Our PRUDENCE declares he's an excellent Preacher,
And by Night and by Day is ſo good as to teach her;
His Doctrine ſo ſound with ſuch Spirit he gives,
She ne'er can forget it as long as ſhe lives.
I told you before that He's often ſo kind
As to go out a riding with PRUDENCE behind,
So frequently dines here without any preſſing,
And now to the Fiſh he is giving his Bleſſing;
And as that is the Caſe, tho' I've taken a Griper,
I'll venture to peck at the Dory and Piper.
And now, my dear Mother, &c. &c. &c.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER V. Salutations of BATH, and an Adventure of Mr. B—N—R—D's in Conſequence thereof.

[30]
NO City, dear Mother, this City excels
For charming ſweet Sounds both of Fiddles and Bells;
I thought, like a Fool, that they only would ring
For a Wedding, or Judge, or the Birth of a King;
But I found 'twas for Me that the good-natur'd People
Rung ſo hard that I thought they would pull down the Steeple,
So I took out my Purſe, as I hate to be ſhabby,
And paid all the Men when they came from the Abbey;
Yet ſome think it ſtrange they ſhould make ſuch a Riot
In a Place where ſick Folk would be glad to be quiet,
But I hear 'tis the Buſineſs of this Corporation
To welcome in all the Great Men of the Nation,
[31]For you know there is nothing diverts or employs
The Minds of Great People like making a Noiſe:
So with Bells they contrive all as much as they can
To tell the Arrival of any ſuch Man.
If a Broker, or Stateſman, a Gameſter, or Peer,
A nat'raliz'd Jew or a Biſhop comes here;
Or an eminent Trader in Cheeſe ſhould retire
Juſt to think of the Bus'neſs the State may require,
With Horns and with Trumpets, with Fiddles and Drums,
They'll ſtrive to divert him as ſoon as he comes.
'Tis amazing they find ſuch a Number of Ways
Of employing his Thoughts all the Time that he ſtays;
If by chance the Great Man at his Lodging alone is,
He may view from his Window the Colliers Ponies
On both the Parades, where they tumble and kick,
To the great Entertainment of thoſe that are ſick:
What a Number of Turnſpits and Builders he'll find
For relaxing his Cares, and unbending his Mind,
While Notes of ſweet Muſic contend with the Cries
Of fine potted Laver, freſh Oyſters, and Pies!
[32]And Muſic's a Thing I ſhall truly revere,
Since the City-Muſicians ſo tickled my Ear;
For when we arriv'd here at Bath t'other Day,
They came to our Lodgings on Purpoſe to play:
And I thought it was right, as the Muſic was come,
To foot it a little in TABITHA's Room,
For Practice makes perfect, as often I've read,
And to Heels is of Service as well as the Head;
But the Lodgers were ſhock'd ſuch a Noiſe we ſhould make,
And the Ladies declar'd that we kept them awake;
Lord RINGBONE, who lay in the Parlour below,
On Account of the Gout he had got in his Toe,
Began on a ſudden to curſe and to ſwear,
I proteſt, my dear Mother, 'twas ſhocking to hear
The Oaths of that reprobate gouty old Peer:
"All the Devils in Hell ſure at once have concurr'd
"To make ſuch a Noiſe here as never was heard,
"Some blundering Blockhead, while I am in Bed,
"Treads as hard as a Coach-Horſe juſt over my Head;
[33]"I cannot conceive what a Plague he's about,
"Are the Fidlers come hither to make all this Rout
"With their d-mn'd ſqueaking Catgut that's worſe than the Gout?
"If the Aldermen bad 'em come hither, I ſwear
"I wiſh they were broiling in Hell with the May'r;
"May Flames be my Portion if ever I give
"Thoſe Raſcals one Farthing as long as I live."—
So while they were playing their muſical Airs,
And I was juſt dancing the Hay round the Chairs,
He roar'd to his Frenchman to kick them down Stairs.
The Frenchman came forth with his outlandiſh Lingo,
Juſt the ſame as a Monkey, and made all the Men go:
I could not make out what he ſaid, not a Word,
And his Lordſhip declar'd I was very abſurd.
Says I, "Maſter RINGBONE, I've nothing to fear,
Tho' you be a Lord, and your Man a Mounſeer,
For the May'r and the Aldermen bad them come here:
[34]'—As abſurd as I am,
'I don't care a Damn
'For you, nor your Valee de Sham:
'For a Lord, do you ſee,
'Is nothing to me,
'Any more than a Flea;
'And your Frenchman ſo eager,
'With all his Soup Meagre,
'Is no more than a Mouſe,
'Or a Bug, or a Louſe,
'And I'll do as I pleaſe while I ſtay in the Houſe;
'For the B—N—R—D Family all can afford
'To part with their Money as free as a Lord.—'
So I thank'd the Muſicians, and gave them a Guinea,
Tho' the Ladies and Gentlemen call'd me a Ninny;
And I'll give them another the next Time they play,
For Men of good Fortune encourage, they ſay,
All Arts and all Sciences too in their Way;
[35]And the Men were ſo kind as to hallow and bawl
"G-d bleſs you, Sir, thank you, good Fortune befall
Yourſelf, and the B—N—R—D Family all.—
Excuſe any more,—for I very well know
Both my Subject and Verſe—is exceedingly low;
But if any great Critic finds Fault with my Letter,
He has nothing to do but to ſend you a better.
And now, my dear Mother, &c. &c. &c.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER VI. IN WHICH Mr. B—N—R—D gives a Deſcription of the BATHING.

[36]
THIS Morning, dear Mother, as ſoon as 'twas light,
I was wak'd by a Noiſe that aſtoniſh'd me quite,
For in TABITHA's Chamber I heard ſuch a Clatter,
I could not conceive what the Deuce was the Matter:
And, would you believe it? I went up and found her
In a Blanket, with two luſty Fellows around her,
Who both ſeem'd a going to carry her off in
A little black Box juſt the Size of a Coffin:
Pray tell me, ſays I, what ye're doing of there?
"Why, Maſter, 'tis hard to be bilk'd of our Fare,
"And ſo we were thruſting her into a Chair:
[37]"We don't ſee no Reaſon for uſing us ſo,
"For ſhe bad us come hither, and now ſhe won't go;
"We're earn'd all the Fare, for we both came and knock'd her
"Up, as ſoon as 'twas light, by Advice of the Doctor;
"And this is a Job that we often go a'ter
"For Ladies that chooſe to go into the Water."
'But pray,' ſays I, 'TABITHA, what is your Drift
'To be cover'd in Flannel inſtead of a Shift?
''Tis all by the Doctor's Advice, I ſuppoſe,
'That Nothing is left to be ſeen but your Noſe:
'I think if you really intend to go in,
''Twould do you more good if you ſtript to the Skin,
'And if you've a Mind for a Frolick, i'fa'th
'I'll juſt ſtep and ſee you jump into the Bath.'
So they hoiſted her down juſt as ſafe and as well
And as ſnug as a Hod'mandod rides in his Shell:
I fain would have gone to ſee TABITHA dip,
But they turn'd at a Corner and gave me the Slip,
Yet in ſearching about I had better Succeſs,
For I got to a Place where the Ladies undreſs;
[38]Thinks I to myſelf, they are after ſome Fun,
And I'll ſee what they're doing as ſure as a Gun:
So I peep'd at the Door, and I ſaw a great Mat
That cover'd a Table, and got under that,
And laid myſelf down there, as ſnug and as ſtill
(As a Body may ſay) like a Thief in a Mill:
And of all the fine Sights I have ſeen, my dear Mother,
I never expect to behold ſuch another:
How the Ladies did giggle and ſet up their Clacks,
All the while an old Woman was rubbing their Backs!
Oh 'twas pretty to ſee them all put on their Flannels,
And then take the Water like ſo many Spaniels,
And tho' all the while it grew hotter and hotter,
They ſwam, juſt as if they were hunting an Otter;
'Twas a glorious Sight to behold the Fair Sex
All wading with Gentlemen up to their Necks,
And view them ſo prettily tumble and ſprawl
In a great ſmoaking Kettle as big as our Hall:
And To-Day many Perſons of Rank and Condition
Were boil'd by Command of an able Phyſician,
[39]Dean SPAVIN, Dean MANGEY, and Doctor DR'SQUIRT,
Were all ſent from Cambridge to rub off their Dirt;
Judge SCRUB, and the worthy old Counſellor PEST
Join'd Iſſue at once, and went in with the reſt:
And this they all ſaid was exceedingly good
For ſtrength'ning the Spirits, and mending the Blood.
It pleas'd me to ſee how they all were inclin'd
To lengthen their Lives for the Good of Mankind;
For I ne'er would believe that a Biſhop or Judge
Can fancy old SATAN may owe him a Grudge,
Tho' ſome think the Lawyer may chooſe to Demur,
And the Prieſt till another Occaſion Defer,
And both to be better prepar'd for herea'ter,
Take a Smack of the Brimſtone contain'd in the Water.
But, what is ſurpriſing, no Mortal e'er view'd
Any one of the Phyſical Gentlemen ſtew'd;
† Since the Day that King BLADUD firſt found out the Bogs;
And thought them ſo good for himſelf and his Hogs,
[40]Not one of the Faculty ever has try'd
Theſe excellent Waters to cure his own Hide:
Tho' many a ſkilful and learned Phyſician,
With Candour, good Senſe, and profound Erudition,
Obliges the World with the Fruits of his Brain
Their Nature and hidden Effects to explain:
Thus CHIRON advis'd Madam THETIS to take
And dip her poor Child in the Stygian Lake,
But the worthy old Doctor was not ſuch an Elf
As ever to venture his Carcaſe himſelf:
So JASON's good Wife us'd to ſet on a Pot,
And put in at once all the Patients ſhe got,
But thought it ſufficient to give her Direction,
Without being coddled to mend her Complexion:
And I never have heard that ſhe wrote any Treatiſe
To tell what the Virtue of Water and Heat is.
You cannot conceive what a Number of Ladies
Were waſh'd in the Water the ſame as our Maid is:
[41]Old Baron VANTEAZER, a Man of great Wealth,
Brought his Lady the Baroneſs here for her Health;
The Baroneſs bathes, and ſhe ſays that her Caſe
Has been hit to a Hair, and is mending apace:
And this is a Point all the Learned agree on,
The Baron has met with the Fate of ACTEON;
Who while he peep'd into the Bath had the Luck
To find himſelf ſuddenly chang'd to a Buck.
Miſs SCRATCHIT went in, and the Counteſs of SCALES,
Both Ladies of very great Faſhion in Wales;
Then all on a ſudden two Perſons of Worth,
My Lady PANDORA MAC'SCURVEY came forth,
With General SULPHUR arriv'd from the North.
So TABBY, you ſee, had the Honour of Waſhing
With Folk of Diſtinction and very high Faſhion,
But in Spite of good Company, poor little Soul,
She ſhook both her Ears like a Mouſe in a Bowl.
Ods Bobs! how delighted I was unawares
With the Fiddles I heard in the Room above Stairs,
[42]For Muſic is wholeſome the Doctors all think
For Ladies that bathe, and for Ladies that drink;
And that's the Opinion of ROBIN our Driver,
Who whiſtles his Nags while they ſtand at the River:
They ſay it is right that for every Glaſs
A Tune you ſhould take, that the Water may paſs;
So while little TABBY was waſhing her Rump,
The Ladies kept drinking it out of a Pump.
I've a deal more to ſay, but am loth to intrude
On your Time, my dear Mother, ſo now I'll conclude.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER VII. A Panegyric on BATH, and a MORAVIAN HYMN.

[43]
OF all the gay Places the World can afford,
By Gentle and Simple for Paſtime ador'd,
Fine Balls, and fine Concerts, fine Buildings, and Springs,
Fine Walks, and fine Views, and a Thouſand fine Things,
Not to mention the ſweet Situation and Air,
What Place, my dear Mother, with Bath can compare?
Let Briſtol for Commerce and Dirt be renown'd,
At Sal'sbury Pen-Knives and Sciſſars be ground;
The Towns of Devizes, of Bradford, and Frome,
May boaſt that they better can manage the Loom;
I believe that they may;—but the World to refine,
In Manners, in Dreſs, in Politeneſs to ſhine,
O Bath!—let the Art, let the Glory be thine.
[44]
I'm ſure I have travell'd our County all o'er
And ne'er was ſo civilly treated before:
Would you think, my dear Mother, (without the leaſt Hint
That we all ſhould be glad of appearing in Print)
The News-Writers here were ſo kind as to give all
The World an Account of our happy Arrival?—
You ſcarce can imagine what Numbers I've met
(Tho' to me they are perfectly Strangers as yet)
Who all with Addreſs and Civility came,
And ſeem'd vaſtly proud of SUBSCRIBING our Name.
Young TIMOTHY CANVASS is charm'd with the Place,
Who, I hear, is come hither his Fibres to brace;
Poor Man! at th'Election he, threw, t'other Day,
All his Victuals, and Liquor, and Money away;
And ſome People think with ſuch Haſte he began,
That ſoon he the Conſtable greatly outran,
And is qualify'd now for a Parliament Man:
Goes every Day to the Coffee-Houſe, where
The Wits and the great Politicians repair;
[45]Harangues on the Funds and the State of the Nation,
And plans a good Speech for an Adminiſtration,
In Hopes of a Place, which he thinks he deſerves,
As the Love of his Country has ruin'd his Nerves.—
Our Neighbour Sir EASTERLIN WIDGEON has ſwore
He ne'er will return to his Bogs any more;
The Thickſculls are ſettled; we've had Invitations
With a great many more on the Score of Relations;
The Loungers are come too.—Old STUCCO has juſt ſent
His Plan for a Houſe to be built in the Creſcent;
'Twill ſoon be complete, and they ſay all their Work
Is as ſtrong as St. Paul's, or the Minſter at York.
Don't you think 'twould be better to leaſe our Eſtate,
And buy a good Houſe here before 'tis too late?
You never can go, my dear Mother, where you
So much have to ſee and ſo little to do.
I write this in Haſte, for the Captain is come,
And ſo kind as to go with us all to the Room;
[46]But be ſure by the very next Poſt you ſhall hear
Of all I've the Pleaſure of meeting with there;
For I ſcribble my Verſe with a great deal of Eaſe,
And can ſend you a Letter whenever I pleaſe;
And while at this Place I've the Honour to ſtay,
I think I can never want ſomething to ſay.
But now my dear Mother, &c. &c.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.
POSTSCRIPT.
I'm ſorry to find at the City of Bath,
Many Folk, are uneaſy concerning their Faith:
NICODEMUS the Preacher ſtrives all he can do
To quiet the Conſcience of good Siſter PRUE;
But TABBY from Scruples of Mind is releas'd,
Since ſhe met with a learned MORAVIAN Prieſt,
[47]Who ſays, There is neither Tranſgreſsion nor Sin;
A Doctrine that brings many Cuſtomers in.
She thinks this the prettieſt Ode upon Earth
Which he made on his Infant that dy'd in the Birth.

ODE.†

Chicken bleſſed
And careſſed,
Little Bee on JESU'S Breaſt!
From the Hurry
And the Flurry
Of the Earth thou'rt now at Reſt.
†
The learned MORAVIAN has pirated this Ode from Count ZINZENDORF's Book of Hymns. Vid. H. 33.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—I at — Hall, North. LETTER VIII. Mr. B—N—R—D goes to the Rooms.—His Opinion of Gaming.

[48]
FROM the earlieſt Ages, dear Mother, till now,
All Stateſmen and great Politicians allow
That nothing advances the Good of a Nation,
Like giving all Money a free Circulation:
This Queſtion from Members of Parliament draws
Many Speeches that meet univerſal Applauſe;
And if ever, dear Mother, I live to be one,
I'll ſpeak on this Subject as ſure as a Gun:
For Bath will I ſpeak, and I'll make an Oration
Shall obtain me the Freedom of this Corporation;
I have no Kind of Doubt but the Speaker will beg
All the Members to Hear when I ſet out my Leg.
[49]"Circulation of Caſh—Circulation decay'd—
"Is at once the Deſtruction and Ruin of Trade;—
"Circulation—I ſay—Circulation it is,
"Gives Life to Commercial Countries like this:
What Thanks to the City of Bath then are due
From all who this Patriot Maxim purſue,
For in no Place whatever that National Good
Is practis'd ſo well, and ſo well underſtood!
What infinite Merit and Praiſe does ſhe claim in
Her Ways and her Means for promoting of Gaming;
And Gaming, no doubt, is of infinite uſe
That ſame Circulation of Caſh to produce;
What true public-ſpirited People are here
Who for that very Purpoſe come every Year!
All Eminent Men who no Trade ever knew
But Gaming, the only good Trade, to purſue;
All other Profeſſions are ſubject to fail,
But Gaming's a Bus'neſs will ever prevail;
Beſides 'tis the only good Way to commence
An Acquaintance with all Men of Spirit and Senſe;
[50]We may grub on without it thro' Life, I ſuppoſe,
But then 'tis with People—that Nobody knows.
We ne'er can expect to be rich, wiſe, or great,
Or look'd upon fit for Employments of State:
'Tis your Men of fine Heads, and of nice Calculations
That afford ſo much Service to Adminiſtrations,
Who by frequent Experience know how to devize
The ſpeedieſt Methods of raiſing Supplies.
'Tis ſuch Men as theſe, Men of Honour and Worth,
That challenge Reſpect from all Perſons of Birth,
And is it not right they ſhould all be careſt
When they're all ſo polite and ſo very well dreſt;
When they circulate freely the Money they've won,
And wear a lac'd Coat, tho' their Fathers wore none?
Our Trade is encourag'd as much, if not more,
By the tender ſoft Sex I ſhall ever adore;
But their Huſbands thoſe Brutes have been known to complain,
And ſwear they will never ſet Foot here again.—
[51]
Ye Wretches ingrate! to find Fault with your Wives,
The Comfort, the Solace, and Joy of your Lives!
Don't SOLOMON ſpeak of ſuch Women with Rapture
In Verſe his Eleventh and thirty-firſt Chapter?
He ſays, "If you find out a virtuous Wife,
"She will do a Man good all the Days of her Life;
"She deals like a Merchant, ſhe ſitteth up late."
And you'll find it is written in Verſe Twenty-Eight,
"Her Huſband is ſure to be known at the Gate:
"He never hath Need or Occaſion for Spoil
"When his Wife is much better employ'd all the while;
"She ſeeketh fine Wool and fine Linen ſhe buys,
"And is clothed in Purple and Scarlet likewiſe.—"
Now pray don't your Wives do the very ſame thing,
And follow th' Advice of this worthy old King?
Do they ſpare for Expences themſelves in adorning?
Don't they go about buying fine Things all the Morning?
And at Cards all the Night take the Trouble to play,
To get back the Money they ſpent in the Day?
[52]And ſure there's no Sort of Occaſion to ſhew,
Ye are known at the Gate, or wherever ye go.
Pray are not your Ladies at Bath better plac'd
Than the Wife of a King who herſelf ſo diſgrac'd,
And at Ithaca liv'd in ſuch very bad Taſte?
Poor Soul! while her huſband thought proper to leave her,
She ſlav'd all the Day like a Spitalfields Weaver,
And then, like a Fool, when her Web was half ſpun,
Pull'd to-pieces at Night all the Work ſhe had done:
But theſe to their Huſbands more Profit can yield,
And are much like a Lilly that grows in the Field;
They toil not indeed, nor indeed do they ſpin,
Yet they never are idle when once they begin,
But are very intent on encreaſing their Store,
And always keep ſhuffling and cutting for more:
Induſtrious Creatures! that make it a Rule
To ſecure half the Fiſh while they manage the Pool:
So they win to be ſure; yet I very much wonder
Why they put ſo much Money the Candleſtick under,
[53]For up comes a Man on a ſudden, Slapdaſh,
Snuffs the Candles, and carries away all the Caſh:
And as Nobody troubles their Heads any more,
I'm in very great Hopes that it goes to the Poor.—
Methinks I ſhould like to excel in a Trade,
By which ſuch a Number their Fortunes have made.
I've heard of a wiſe philoſophical Jew
That ſhuffles the Cards in a Manner that's new,
One JONAS, I think:—And cou'd wiſh for the future
To have that illuſtrious Sage for my Tutor;
And the Captain, whoſe Kindneſs I ne'er can forget,
Will teach me a Game that he calls Lanſquenet;
So I ſoon ſhall acquaint you what Money I've won;
In the mean Time I reſt, Your moſt dutiful Son,
S—B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.
The End of the Firſt Part.
[]

THE NEW BATH GUIDE.

PART the SECOND.

Miſs JENNY W—D—R, to Lady ELIZ. M—D—SS, at — Caſtle, North. LETTER IX. A JOURNAL.

[57]
TO humbler Strains, ye Nine, deſcend,
And greet my poor ſequeſter'd Friend.
Not Odes with rapid Eagle flight,
That ſoar above all human Sight;
Not Fancy's fair and fertile Field,
To all the ſame Delight can yield.
But come CALLIOPE and ſay
How Pleaſure waſtes the various Day:
Whether thou art wont to rove
By Parade, or Orange Grove,
Or to breathe a purer Air
In the Circus or the Square;
[58]Whereſoever be thy Path,
Tell, O tell the Joys of Bath.
Ev'ry Morning, ev'ry Night,
Gayeſt Scenes of freſh Delight:
When AURORA ſheds her Beams,
Wak'd from ſoft Elyſian Dreams,
Muſic calls me to the Spring
Which can Health and Spirits bring;
There HYGEIA, Goddeſs, pours
Bleſſings from her various Stores,
Let me to her Altars haſte,
Tho' I ne'er the Waters taſte,
Near the Pump to take my Stand,
With a Noſegay in my Hand,
And to hear the Captain ſay,
"How d'ye do dear Miſs to-day?"
The Captain!—Now you'll ſay my Dear,
Methinks I long his Name to hear,—
[59]Why then—but don't you tell my Aunt
The Captain's Name is—CORMORANT:
But hereafter, you muſt know,
I ſhall call him ROMEO,
And your Friend, dear Lady BET,
JENNY no more but JULIET.
O ye Guardian Spirits fair,
All who make true Love your Care,
May I oft my ROMEO meet,
Oft enjoy his Converſe ſweet;
I alone his Thoughts employ
Thro' each various Scene of Joy.
Lo! where all the jocund Throng
From the Pump-Room haſtes along,
To the Breakfaſt all invited
By Sir TOBY, lately knighted.
See with Joy my ROMEO comes;
He conducts me to the Rooms;
[60]There he whiſpers, not unſeen,
Tender Tales behind the Screen;
While his Eyes are fix'd on mine,
See each Nymph with Envy pine,
And with Looks of forc'd Diſdain
Smile Contempt, but ſigh in vain.
O the charming Parties made!
Some to walk the South Parade,
Some to LINCOMB's ſhady Groves,
Or to SIMPSON's proud Alcoves;
Some for Chapel trip away,
Then take Places for the Play:
Or we walk about in Pattins,
Buying Gauzes, cheap'ning Sattins,
Or to PAINTER's we repair,
Meet Sir PEREGRINE HATCHET there,
Pleas'd the Artiſt's Skill to trace
In his dear Miſs GORGON's Face:
[61]Happy Pair! who fix'd as Fate
For the ſweet connubial State,
Smile in Canvaſs Tete a Tete.
If the Weather, cold and chill,
Calls us all to Mr. GILL,
ROMEO hands to me the Jelly,
Or the Soup of Vermicelli;
If at TOYSHOP I ſtep in,
He preſents a Diamond Pin,
Sweeteſt Token I can wear,
Which at once may grace my Hair;
And in Witneſs of my Flame,
Teach the Glaſs to bear his Name:
See him turn each Trinket over,
If for me he can diſcover
Ought his Paſſion to reveal,
Emblematic Ring or Seal;
CUPID whetting pointed Darts,
For a Pair of tender Hearts;
HYMEN lighting ſacred Fires,
Types of chaſte and fond Deſires:
[62]Thus enjoy we ev'ry Bleſſing,
Till the Toilet calls to Dreſſing;
Where's my Garnet, Cap and Sprig?
Send for SINGE to dreſs my Wig:
Bring my ſilver'd Mazarine,
Sweeteſt Gown that e'er was ſeen:
TABITHA, put on my Ruff;
Where's my dear delightful Muff?
Muff, my faithful ROMEO's Preſent;
Tippet too from Tail of Pheaſant!
Muff from downy Breaſt of Swan,
O the dear enchanting Man!
Muff, that makes me think how JOVE
Flew to LEDA from above.—
Muff that—TABBY, ſee who rapt then?
"Madam, Madam, 'tis the Captain!
Sure his Voice I hear below,
'Tis, it is my ROMEO;
Shape and Gate, and careleſs Air,
Diamond Ring, and Solitair,
Birth and Faſhion all declare.
[63]How his Eyes that gently roll
Speak the Language of his Soul;
See the Dimple on his Cheek,
See him ſmile and ſweetly ſpeak,
"Lovely Nymph, at your Command
"I have ſomething in my Hand,
"Which I hope you'll not refuſe,
"'Twill us both at Night amuſe:
"What tho' Lady WHISKER crave it,
"And Miſs BADGER longs to have it,
"'Tis, by Jupiter I ſwear,
"'Tis for you alone, my Dear:
"See this Ticket, gentle Maid,
"At your Feet an Off'ring laid,
"Thee the Loves and Graces call
"To a little private Ball:
"And to Play I bid adieu,
"Hazard, Lanſquenet and Loo,
"Faireſt Nymph to dance with you.—
—I with Joy accept his Ticket,
And upon my Boſom ſtick it:
[64]Well I know how ROMEO dances,
With what Air he firſt advances,
With what Grace his Gloves he draws on,
Claps, and calls up Nancy Dawſon;
Me thro' ev'ry Dance conducting,
And the Muſic oft inſtructing;
See him tap the Time to ſhew,
With his light fantaſtic Toe;
Skill'd in ev'ry Art to pleaſe,
From the Fan to waft the Breeze,
Or his Bottle to produce
Fill'd with pungent Eau de Luce.—
Wonder not, my Friend, I go
To the Ball with ROMEO.
Such Delights if thou canſt give
Bath, at thee I chooſe to live.
J— W—D—R.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER X. TASTE and SPIRIT. —Mr. B—N—R—D commences BEAU GARÇON.

[65]
SO lively, ſo gay, my dear Mother, I'm grown,
I long to do ſomething to make myſelf known;
For Perſons of Taſte and true Spirit, I find,
Are fond of attracting the Eyes of Mankind:
What Numbers one ſees, who for that very Reaſon
Come to make ſuch a Figure at Bath ev'ry Seaſon!
'Tis This that provokes Mrs. SHENKIN AP-LEEK
To dine at the Ord'nary twice in a Week,
Tho' at Home ſhe might eat a good Dinner in Comfort,
Nor pay ſuch a curſed extravagant Sum for't:
But then her Acquaintance would never have known
Mrs. SHENKIN AP-LEEK had acquir'd a Bon Ton;
[66]Ne'er ſhewn how in Taſte the AP-LEEKS can excel
The Dutcheſs of TRUFFLES, and Lady MORELL;
Had ne'er been ador'd by Sir PYE MACARONI,
And Count VERMICELLI, his intimate Crony;
Both Men of ſuch Taſte, their Opinions are taken
From an Ortolan down to a Ruſher of Bacon.
What makes KITTY SPICE [...], and little Miſs SAGO
To Auctions and Milliners Shops ev'ry Day go;
What makes them to vie with each other and quarrel
Which ſpends the moſt Money for ſplendid Apparel?
Why Spirit—to ſhew they have much better Senſe
Than their Fathers, who rais'd it by Shillings and Pence.
What ſends PETER TEWKSBURY every Night
To the Play with ſuch infinite Joy and Delight?
Why PETER's a Critic, with true Attic Salt,
Can damn the Performers, can hiſs, and find fault,
And tell when we ought to expreſs Approbation,
By thumping, and clapping, and Vociferation;
So he gains our Attention, and all muſt admire
Young TEWKSBURY's Judgment, his Spirit and Fire.
[67]But JACK DILETTANTE deſpiſes the Play'rs,
To Concerts and muſical Parties repairs,
With Benefit-Tickets his Pockets he fills,
Like a Mountebank Doctor diſtributes his Bills;
And thus his Importance and Intereſt ſhews,
By conſerring his Favours wherever He goes:
He's extremely polite both to me and my Couzen,
For he often deſires us to take off a Dozen:
He has Taſte, without doubt, and a delicate Ear,
No vile Oratorios ever could bear;
But talks of the Op'ras and his Signiora,
Cries Bravo, Beniſſimo, Bravo, Encora!
And oft is ſo kind as to thruſt in a Note
While old Lady CUCKOW is ſtraining her Throat,
Or little Miſs WREN, who's an excellent Singer,
Then he points to the Notes, with a Ring on his Finger,
And ſhews Her the Crotchet, the Quaver, and Bar,
All the Time that ſhe warbles, and plays the Guitar:
Yet I think, tho' ſhe's at it from Morning till Noon,
Her queer little Thingumbob's never in Tune.
[68]
Thank Heaven of late, my dear Mother, my Face is
Not a little regarded at all public Places;
For I ride in a Chair with my Hands in a Muff,
And have bought a Silk Coat and embroidered the Cuff;
But the Weather was cold, and the Coat it was thin,
So the Taylor advis'd me to line it with Skin:
But what with my Nivernois' Hat can compare,
Bag-Wig, and lac'd Ruffles, and black Solitair?
And what can a Man of true Faſhion denote,
Like an Ell of good Ribbon ty'd under the Throat?
My Buckles and Box are in exquiſite Taſte;
The one is of Paper, the other of Paſte;
And ſure no Camayeu was ever yet ſeen,
Like that which I purchas'd at WICKSTED's Machine:
My Stockings of Silk, are juſt come from the Hoſier,
For To-night I'm to dance with the charming Miſs TOZIER:
So I'd have them to know when I go to the Ball,
I ſhall ſhew as much Taſte as the beſt of them all:
For a Man of great Faſhion was heard to declare
He never beheld ſo engaging an Air,
[69]And ſwears all the World muſt my Judgment confeſs,
My Solidity, Senſe, Underſtanding in Dreſs,
My Manners ſo form'd, and my Wig ſo well curl'd,
I look like a Man of the very firſt World:
But my Perſon and Figure you'll beſt underſtand
From the Picture I've ſent, by an eminent Hand:
Shew it young Lady BETTY, by Way of Endearance,
And to give her a Spice of my Mien and Appearance:
Excuſe any more, I'm in Haſte to depart,
For a Dance is the Thing that I love at my Heart,
So now my dear Mother, &c. &c. &c.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER XI. A Deſcription of the BALL, with an Epiſode on BEAU NASH.

[70]
WHAT Joy at the Ball, what Delight have I found,
By all the bright Circle encompaſs'd around!
Each Moment with Tranſport my Boſom felt warm,
For what, my dear Mother, like Beauty can charm?
The Remembrance alone, while their Praiſe I rehearſe,
Gives Life to my Numbers, and Strength to my Verſe:
Then allow for the Rapture the Muſes inſpire,
Such Themes call aloud for Poetical Fire.
I've read how the Goddeſſes meet all above,
And throng the immortal Aſſemblies of JOVE,
When join'd with the Graces fair VENUS appears,
Ambroſial ſweet Odours perfume all the Spheres;
[71]But the Goddeſs of Love, and the Graces and all,
Muſt yield to the Beauties I've ſeen at the Ball;
For JOVE never felt ſuch a Joy at his Heart,
Such a Heat as theſe charming ſweet Creatures impart.
In ſhort—there is ſomething in very fine Women,
When they meet all together — that's quite overcoming.
Then ſay, O ye Nymphs that inhabit the Shades
Of Pindus' ſweet Banks, Heliconian Maids,
Celeſtial Muſes, ye Powers divine,
O ſay, for your Memory's better than mine,
What Troops of fair Virgins aſſembled around,
What Squadrons of Heroes for Dancing renown'd,
Were rouz'd by the Fiddle's harmonious Sound;
What Goddeſs ſhall firſt be the Theme of my Song,
Whoſe Name the clear AVON may murmur along,
And Echo repeat all the Vallies among!
Lady TETTATON's Siſter, Miſs FUBBY FATARMIN,
Was the firſt that preſented her Perſon ſo charming,
[72]Than whom more engaging, more beautiful none,
A Goddeſs herſelf among Goddeſſes ſhone,
Excepting the lovely Miſs TOWZER alone.
'Tis ſhe that has long been the Toaſt of the Town,
Tho' all the World knows her Complexion is brown:
If ſome People think that her Mouth be too wide,
Miſs TOWZER has numberleſs Beauties beſide;
A Countenance noble, with ſweet pouting Lips,
And a delicate Shape, from her Waiſt to her Hips;
Beſides a prodigious rough black Head of Hair
That is frizzled and curl'd o'er her Neck that is bare;
I've ſeen the ſweet Creature but once, I confeſs,
But her Air, and her Manner, and pleaſing Addreſs,
All made me feel ſomething I ne'er can expreſs.
But lo! on a ſudden what Multitudes pour
From Cambrian Mountains, from Indian Shore;
Bright Maidens, bright Widows, and fortunate Swains,
Who cultivate LIFFY's ſweet Borders and Plains,
[73]And they who their Flocks in fair ALBION ſeed,
Rich Flocks and rich Herds, (ſo the Gods have decreed)
Since they quitted the pleaſanter Banks of the Tweed.
Yet here no Confuſion, no Tumult is known,
Fair Order and Beauty eſtabliſh their Throne;
For Order and Beauty, and juſt Regulation,
Support all the Works of this ample Creation.
For This, in Compaſſion to Mortals below,
The Gods, their peculiar Favour to ſhew,
Sent HERMES to Bath in the Shape of a BEAU:
That Grandſon of ATLAS came down from above
To bleſs all the Regions of Pleaſure and Love;
To lead the fair Nymph thro' the various Maze,
Bright Beauty to marſhal, his Glory and Praiſe;
To govern, improve, and adorn the gay Scene,
By the Graces inſtructed, and Cyprian Queen:
As when in a Garden delightful and gay,
Where FLORA is wont all her Charms to diſplay,
The ſweet Hyacinthus with Pleaſure we view
Contend with Narciſſus in delicate Hue,
[74]The Gard'ner induſtrious trims out his Border,
Puts each odoriferous Plant in it's Order;
The Myrtle he ranges, the Roſe and the Lilly,
With Iris and Crocus, and Daffa-down-dilly;
Sweet Peas and ſweet Oranges all He diſpoſes
At once to regale both your Eyes and your Noſes,
Long reign'd the great NASH, this omnipotent Lord,
Reſpected by Youth, and by Parents ador'd;
For him not enough at a Ball to preſide,
Th' unwary and beautiful Nymph would he guide;
Oft tell her a Tale, how the credulous Maid
By Man, by perfidious Man is betray'd;
Taught Charity's Hand to relieve the diſtreſt,
With tender Compaſſion his Tears have expreſt:
But alas! He is gone, and the City can tell
How in Years and in Glory lamented he ſell;
Him mourn'd all the Dryads on CLAVERTON's Mount;
Him AVON deplor'd, Him the Nymph of the Fount,
The Cryſtalline Streams.
[75]Then periſh his Picture, his Statue decay,
A Tribute more laſting the Muſes ſhall pay.
If true what Philoſophers all will aſſure us,
Who diſſent from the Doctrine of great EPICURUS,
That the Spirit's immortal: as Poets allow,
If Life's Occupations are follow'd below:
In Reward of his Labours, his Virtue and Pains,
He is footing it now in th' Elyſian Plains,
Indulg'd, as a Token of PROSERPINE's Favour,
To preſide at her Balls in a cream-colour'd Beaver:
Then Peace to his Aſhes—Our Grief be ſuppreſt,
Since we find ſuch a Phoenix has ſprung from his Neſt;
Kind Heaven has ſent us another Profeſſor,
Who follows the Steps of his great Predeceſſor.
But hark, now they ſtrike the melodious String,
The vaulted Roof echoes, the Manſions all ring;
At the Sound of the Hautboy, the Baſs and the Fiddle,
Sir BOREAS BLUBBER ſteps forth in the Middle,
[76]Like a Holy-Hock, noble, majeſtic, and tall,
Sir BOREAS BLUBBER firſt opens the Ball:
Sir BOREAS, great in the Minuet known,
Since the Day that for Dancing his Talents were ſhewn,
Where the Science is practis'd by Gentlemen grown.
For in every Science, in ev'ry Profeſſion,
We make the beſt Progreſs at Years of Diſcretion.
How he puts on his Hat with a Smile on his Face,
And delivers his Hand with an exquiſite Grace;
How genteelly he offers Miſs CARROT before us,
Miſs CARROT EITZ-OOZER, a Niece of Lord PORUS;
How nimbly he paces, how active and light!
One never can judge of a Man at firſt Sight;
But as near as I gueſs from the Size of his Calf,
He may weigh about twenty-three Stone and a Half.
Now why ſhould I mention a Hundred or more,
Who went the ſame Circle as others before,
To a Tune that they play'd us a hundred Times o'er?
See little BOB JEROM, old CHRYSOSTOM's Son,
With a Chitterlin Shirt, and a Buckle of Stone:
[77]What a cropt Head of Hair the young Parſon has on!
Emerg'd from his Grizzle, th'unfortunate Sprig
Seems as if he was hunting all Night for his Wig;
Not perfectly pleas'd with the Coat on his Back,
Tho' the Coat's a good Coat, but alas it is black;
With envious Eyes he is doom'd to behold,
The Captain's red Suit that's embroider'd with Gold!
How ſeldom Mankind is content with their Lot!
BOB JEROM two very good Livings has got;
Yet ſtill he accuſes his Parents deceas'd,
For making a Man of ſuch Spirit a Prieſt.
Not ſo Maſter MARMOZET, ſweet little Boy,
Mrs. DANGLECUB's Hopes, her Delight and her Joy;
His pidgeon-wing'd Head was not dreſt quite ſo ſoon,
For it took up a Barber the whole Afternoon;
His Jacket's well lac'd, and the Ladies proteſt
Maſter MARMOZET dances as well as the beſt:
Yet ſome think the Boy would be better at School,
But I hear Mrs DANGLECUB's not ſuch a Fool
[78]To ſend a poor Thing with a Spirit ſo meek,
To be flog'd by a Tyrant for Latin and Greek;
She wonders that Parents to Eton ſhould ſend
Five Hundred great Boobies their Manners to mend:
She ſays that her Son will his Fortune advance,
By learning ſo early to fiddle and dance;
So ſhe brings him to Bath, which I think is quite right,
For they do nothing elſe here from Morning till Night:
And this is a Leſſon all Parents ſhould know,
To train up a Child in the Way he ſhould go;
For as SOLOMON ſays, you may ſafely uphold,
He ne'er will depart from the ſame when he's old.
No doubt ſhe's a Woman of fine Underſtanding,
Her Air and her Preſence there's ſomething ſo grand in;
So wiſe and diſcreet; and to give Her her Due,
Dear Mother, ſhe's juſt ſuch a Woman as you.
But who is that Bombazine Lady ſo gay,
So profuſe of her Beauties, in ſable Array?
[79]How ſhe reſts on her Heel, how ſhe turns out her Toe,
How ſhe pulls down her Stays, with her Head up to ſhew
Her Lilly-white Boſom that rivals the Snow!
'Tis the Widow QUICKLACKIT, whoſe Husband, laſt Week,
Poor STEPHEN, went ſuddenly forth in a Pique,
And puſh'd off his Boat for the Stygian Creek:
Poor STEPHEN! he never return'd from the Bourn,
But left the diſconſolate Widow to mourn:
Three Times did ſhe faint, when ſhe heard of the News;
Six Days did ſhe weep, and all Comfort refuſe:
But STEPHEN, no Sorrow, no Tears can recall!—
So ſhe hallows the Seventh, and comes to the Ball.
For Muſic, ſweet Muſic, has Charms to controul,
And tune up each Paſſion that ruffles the Soul!
What things have I read, and what Stories been told
Of Feats that were done by Muſicians of old!
I ſaw t'other Day in a Thing call'd an Ode,
As it lay in a ſnug little Houſe on the Road,
[80]How SAUL was reſtor'd, tho' his Sorrow was ſharp,
When DAVID, the Bethlemite, play'd on the Harp:
'Twas Muſic that brought a Man's Wife from Old Nick;
And at Bath has the Pow'r to recover the Sick:
Thus a Lady was cur'd t'other Day.—But 'tis Time
To ſeal up my Letter, and finiſh my Rhyme.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER XII. A Modern HEAD-DRESS, with a little POLITE CONVERSATION.

[81]
WHAT baſe and unjuſt Accuſations we find
Ariſe from the Malice and Spleen of Mankind!
One would hope, my dear Mother, that Scandal would ſpare
The tender, the helpleſs, and delicate Fair;
But alas! the ſweet Creatures all find it the Caſe,
That Bath is a very cenſorious Place.
Would you think that a Perſon I met ſince I came,
(I hope you'll excuſe my concealing his Name)
A ſplenetic ill-natur'd Fellow, before
A Room full of very good Company, ſwore,
That, in ſpight of Appearance, 'twas very well known,
Their Hair and their Faces were none of their own;
[82]And thus without Wit, or the leaſt Provocation,
Began an impertinent formal Oration:
"Shall Nature thus laviſh her Beauties in vain
"For Art and nonſenſical Faſhion to ſtain?
"The fair JEZEBELLA what Art can adorn,
"Whoſe Cheeks are like Roſes that bluſh in the Morn?
"As bright were her Locks as in Heaven are ſeen,
"Preſented for Stars by th'Egyptian Queen;
"But alas! the ſweet Nymph they no longer muſt deck,
"No more ſhall they flow o'er her Ivory Neck;
"Some Runaway Valet, ſome outlandiſh Shaver
"Has ſpoil'd all the Honours that Nature has gave her;
"Her Head has he robb'd with as little Remorſe
"As a Fox-Hunter crops both his Dogs and his Horſe:
"A Wretch that, ſo far from repenting his Theft,
"Makes a Boaſt of tormenting the little that's left:
"And firſt at her Porcupine Head he begins
"To fumble and poke with his Irons and Pins,
"Then fires all his Crackers with horrid Grimace,
"And puffs his vile Rocambol Breath in her Face,
[83]"Diſcharging a Steam, that the Devil would choak,
"From Paper, Pomatum, from Powder, and Smoke:
"The Patient ſubmits, and with due Reſignation
"Prepares for her Fate in the next Operation.
"When lo! on a ſudden, a Monſter appears,
"A horrible Monſter, to cover her Ears;
"What Sign of the Zodiac is it he bears?
"Is it Taurus's Tail, or the Tete de Mouton,
"Or the Beard of the Goat, that he dares to put on?
"'Tis a Wig en Vergette, that from Paris was brought
"Un Tete comme il faut, that the Varlet has bought
"Of a Beggar, whoſe Head he has ſhav'd for a Groat:
"Now fix'd to her Head does he frizzle and dab it;
"Her Foretop's no more.—'Tis the Skin of a Rabbit.—
"'Tis a Muff.—'tis a Thing that by all is confeſt
"Is in Colour and Shape like a Chalfinch's Neſt.
"O ceaſe, ye fair Virgins, ſuch Pains to employ,
"The Beauties of Nature with Paint to deſtroy;
[84]"See VENUS lament, ſee the Loves and the Graces,
"How they pine at the Injury done to your Faces!
"Ye have Eyes, Lips, and Noſe, but your Heads are no more
"Than a Doll's that is plac'd at a Milliner's Door.—"
I'm aſham'd to repeat what he ſaid in the Sequel,
Aſperſions ſo cruel as nothing can equal!
I declare I am ſhock'd ſuch a Fellow ſhould vex,
And ſpread all theſe Lyes of the innocent Sex,
For whom, while I live, I will make Proteſtation
I've the higheſt Eſteem and profound Veneration;
I never ſo ſtrange an Opinion will harbour,
That they buy all the Hair they have got of a Barber:
Nor ever believe that ſuch beautiful Creatures
Can have any Delight in abuſing their Features.
One Thing tho' I wonder at much, I confeſs, is
Th'Appearance they make in their different Dreſſes,
For indeed they look very much like Apparitions
When they come in the Morning to hear the Muſicians,
[85]And ſome I am apt to miſtake, at firſt Sight,
For the Mothers of thoſe I have ſeen over Night;
It ſhocks me to ſee them look paler than Aſhes,
And as dead in the Eye as the Buſto of NASH is,
Who the Ev'ning before were ſo blooming and plump:
—I'm griev'd to the Heart when I go to the Pump;
For I take ev'ry Morning a Sup at the Water,
Juſt to hear what is paſſing, and ſee what they're a'ter:
For I'm told, the Diſcourſes of Perſons refin'd
Are better than Books for improving the Mind:
But a great deal of Judgment's requir'd in the ſkimming
The polite Converſation of ſenſible Women,
For they come to the Pump, as before I was ſaying,
And talk all at once, while the Muſic is playing:
"Your Servant, Miſs FITCHET," "good Morning, Miſs STOTE,
"My dear Lady RIGGLEDUM, how is your Throat?
"Your Ladyſhip knows that I ſent you a Scrawl,
"Laſt Night to attend at your Ladyſhip's Call,
"But I hear that your Ladyſhip went to the Ball."
[86]"—Oh FITCHET—don't aſk me—good Heavens preſerve,
"I wiſh there was no ſuch a Thing as a Nerve;
"Half dead all the Night I proteſt and declare—
"My dear little FITCHET, who dreſſes your Hair?—
"You'll come to the Rooms, all the World will be there.
"Sir TOBY MAC'NEGUS is going to ſettle
"His Tea-drinking Night with Sir PHILIP O'KETTLE."
"I hear that they both have appointed the ſame;
"The Majority think that Sir PHILIP's to blame;
"I hope they won't quarrel, they're both in a Flame:
"Sir TOBY MAC'NEGUS much Spirit has got,
"And Sir PHILIP O'KETTLE is apt to be hot.—"
"Have you read the Bath Guide, that ridiculous Poem?
"What a ſcurrilous Author! does nobody know him?"
"Young BILLY PENWAGGLE, and SIMIUS CHATTER,
"Declare 'tis an ill-natur'd half-witted Satire."
"You know I'm engag'd, my dear Creature, with you,
"And Mrs. PAMTICKLE, this Morning at Loo;
"Poor Thing! though ſhe hobbled laſt Night to the Ball,
"To-Day ſhe's ſo lame that ſhe hardly can crawl;
[87]"Major LIGNUM has trod on the firſt Joint of her Toe—
"—That Thing they play'd laſt was a charming Concerto;
"I don't recollect I have heard it before;
"The Minuet's good, but the Jig I adore;
"Pray ſpeak to Sir TOBY to cry out, Encore."
Dear Mother I think this is excellent Fun,
But, if all I muſt write, I ſhould never have done:
So myſelf I ſubſcribe your moſt dutiful Son,
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D at — Hall, North. LETTER XIII. A PUBLIC BREAKFAST.

[88]
WHAT Bleſſings attend, my dear Mother, all thoſe
Who to Crowds of Admirers their Perſons expoſe!
Do the Gods ſuch a noble Ambition inſpire;
Or Gods do we make of each ardent Deſire?
O generous Paſſion! 'tis yours to afford
The ſplendid Aſſembly, the plentiful Board;
To thee do I owe ſuch a Breakfaſt this Morn,
As I nee'r ſaw before, ſince the Hour I was born:
'Twas You made my Lord RAGGAMUFFENN come here,
Who they ſay has been lately created a Peer;
And To-day with extreme Complaiſance and Reſpect ask'd
All the People at Bath to a general Breakfaſt.
[89]
You've heard of my Lady BUNBUTTER, no doubt,
How ſhe loves an Aſſembly, Fandango, or Rout;
No Lady in London is half ſo expert
At a ſnug private Party, her Friends to divert;
But they ſay, that of late, ſhe's grown ſick of the Town,
And often to Bath condeſcends to come down:
Her Ladyſhip's favourite Houſe is the Bear;
Her Chariot, and Servants, and Horſes are there:
My Lady declares that Retiring is good;
As all, with a ſeparate Maintenance, ſhould;
For when you have put out the conjugal Fire,
'Tis Time for all ſenſible Folk to retire;
If HYMEN no longer his Fingers will ſcorch,
Little CUPID for others can whip in his Torch,
So pert is he grown; ſince the Cuſtom began,
To be married and parted as quick as you can.
Now my Lord had the Honour of coming down Poſt,
To pay his Reſpects to ſo famous a Toaſt;
In Hopes He her Ladyſhip's Favour might win,
By playing the Part of a Hoſt at an Inn.
[90]I'm ſure He's a Perſon of great Reſolution,
Tho' delicate Nerves, and a weak Conſtitution;
For he carried us all to a Place croſs the River,
And vow'd that the Rooms were too hot for his Liver:
He ſaid it would greatly our Pleaſure promote,
If we all for Spring-Gardens ſet out in a Boat:
I never as yet could his Reaſon explain,
Why we all ſallied ſorth in the Wind and the Rain?
For ſure ſuch Confuſion was never yet known;
Here a Cap and a Hat, there a Cardinal blown:
While his Lordſhip, embroider'd, and powder'd all o'er,
Was bowing, and handing the Ladies aſhore:
How the Miſſes did huddle and ſcuddle, and run;
One would think to be wet muſt be very good Fun;
For by waggling their Tails, they all ſeem'd to take Pains
To moiſten their Pinions like Ducks when it rains;
And 'twas pretty to ſee how, like Birds of a Feather,
The People of Quality flock'd all together;
All preſſing, addreſſing, careſſing, and fond,
Juſt the ſame as thoſe Animals are in a Pond:
[91]You've read all their Names in the News, I ſuppoſe,
But, for fear you have not, take the Liſt as it goes:
There was Lady GREASEWRISTER,
And Madam VAN-TWISTER,
Her Ladyſhip's Siſter.
Lord CRAM, and Lord VULTUR,
Sir BRANDISH O' CULTER,
With Marſhal CAROUZER,
And old Lady MOWZER,
And the great Hanoverian Baron PANSMOWZER,
Beſides many others; who all in the Rain went,
On purpoſe to honour this grand Entertainment:
The Company made a moſt brilliant Appearance,
And ate Bread and Butter with great Perſeverance;
All the Chocolate too, that my Lord ſet before 'em,
The Ladies diſpatch'd with the utmoſt Decorum.
Soft muſical Numbers were heard all around,
The Horns and the Clarions echoing ſound:
Sweet were the Strains, as od'rous Gales that blow
O'er fragrant Banks, where Pinks and Roſes grow.
[92]The Peer was quite raviſh'd, while cloſe to his Side
Sat Lady BUNBUTTER, in beautiful Pride!
Oft turning his Eyes, he with Rapture ſurvey'd
All the powerful Charms ſhe ſo nobly diſplay'd.
As when at the Feaſt of the great ALEXANDER
TIMOTHEUS, the muſical Son of THERSANDER,
Breath'd heavenly Meaſures;
The Prince was in Pain,
And could not contain,
While THAIS was ſitting beſide him;
But, before all his Peers,
Was for ſhaking the Spheres,
Such Goods all the Gods did provide Him.
Grew bolder and bolder,
And cock'd up his Shoulder,
Like the Son of great JUPITER AMMON,
Till at length quite oppreſt,
He ſunk on her Breaſt,
And lay there as dead as a Salmon.
[93]O had I a Voice, that was ſtronger than Steel,
With twice Fifty Tongues, to expreſs what I feel;
And as many good Mouths, yet I never could utter
All the Speeches my Lord made to Lady BUNBUTTER!
So polite all the Time, that he ne'er touch'd a Bit,
While ſhe ate up his Rolls and applauded his Wit:
For they tell me that Men of true Taſte, when they treat,
Muſt talk a great deal, but they never ſhould eat;
And if that be the Faſhion, I never will give
Any grand Entertainment as long as I live:
For I'm of Opinion, 'tis proper to chear
The Stomach and Bowels, as well as the Ear.
Nor me did the charming Concerto of ABEL
Regale like the Breakfaſt I ſaw on the Table;
I freely will own I the Muffins preferr'd
To all the genteel Converſation I heard;
E'en tho' I'd the Honour of ſitting between
My Lady STUFF-DAMASK, and PEGGY MOREEN,
Who both flew to Bath in the London Machine.
[94]Cries PEGGY, "This Place is enchantingly pretty;
"We never can ſee ſuch a Thing in the City:
"You may ſpend all your Life-Time in Cateaton Street,
"And never ſo civil a Gentleman meet;
"You may talk what you pleaſe; you may ſearch London thro';
"You may go to Carlisle's, and to Almanac's too;
"And I'll give you my Head if you find ſuch a Hoſt,
"For Coffee, Tea, Chocolate, Butter, and Toaſt:
"How He welcomes at once all the World and his Wife,
"And how civil to Folk he ne'er ſaw in his Life.—"
"Theſe Horns, cries my Lady, ſo tickle one's Ear,
"Lard! what would I give that Sir SIMON was here!
"To the next Public Breakfaſt Sir SIMON ſhall go,
"For I find here are Folks one may venture to know:
"Sir SIMON would gladly his Lordſhip attend,
"And my Lord would be pleas'd with ſo chearful a Friend."
So when we had waſted more Bread at a Breakfaſt
Than the poor of our Pariſh have ate for this Week paſt,
[95]I ſaw, all at once, a prodigious great Throng,
Come buſtling, and ruſtling, and joſtling along:
For his Lordſhip was pleas'd that the Company now
To my Lady BUNBUTTER ſhould curt'ſey and bow;
And my Lady was pleas'd too, and ſeem'd vaſtly proud,
At once to receive all the Thanks of a Crowd:
And when, like Chaldeans, we all had ador'd
This beautiful Image, ſet up by my Lord,
Some few inſignificant Folk went away,
Juſt to follow th'Employments and Calls of the Day;
But thoſe who knew better their Time how to ſpend,
The Fiddling and Dancing all choſe to attend.
Miſs CLUNCH and Sir TOBY perform'd a Cotillon,
Much the ſame as our SUSAN and BOB the Poſtilion;
All the while her Mamma was expreſſing her Joy,
That her Daughter the Morning ſo well could employ.
—Now why ſhould the Muſe, my dear Mother relate
The Misfortunes that fall to the Lot of the Great!
[96]As Homeward we came—'tis with Sorrow you'll hear,
What a dreadful Diſaſter attended the Peer:
For, whether ſome envious God had decreed
That a Naid ſhould long to ennoble her Breed:
Or whether his Lordſhip was charm'd to behold
His Face in the Stream, like NARCISSUS of old;
In handing old Lady BUMFIDGET and Daughter,
This obſequious Lord tumbled into the Water:
Some Nymph of the Flood brought him ſafe to the Boat,
And I left all the Ladies a' cleaning his Coat.—
Thus the Feaſt was concluded, as far as I hear,
To the great Satisfaction of all that were there.
O may he give Breakfaſt as long as he ſtays,
For I ne'er ate a better in all my born Days.
In Haſte I conclude, &c. &c. &c.
S— B—N—R—D.
BATH, 1766.

Miſs PRUDENCE B—R—D, to Lady ELIZ. M—D—SS, at — Caſtle, North. LETTER XIV. IN WHICH Miſs PRUDENCE B—R—D informs Lady BETTY, that She has been elected to METHODISM by a VISION.

[97]
HEARKEN, Lady BETTY, hearken,
To the diſmal News I tell;
How your Friends are all embarking,
For the fiery Gulph of Hell.
Brother SIMKIN's grown a Rakehell,
Cards and dances ev'ry Day.
JENNY laughs at Tabernacle,
TABBY RUNT is gone aſtray,
[98]Bleſſed I, tho' once rejected,
Like a little wand'ring Sheep;
Who this Morning was elected,
By a Viſion in my Sleep:
For I dream'd an Apparition
Came, like ROGER, from Above;
Saying, by Divine Commiſſion
I muſt fill you full of Love.
Juſt with ROGER's Head of Hair on,
ROGER's Mouth, and pious Smile;
Sweet, methinks, as Beard of AARON
Dropping down with holy Oil.
I began to fall a kicking,
Panted, ſtruggl'd, ſtrove in vain;
When the Spirit whipt ſo quick in,
I was cur'd of all my Pain.
Firſt I thought it was the Night-Mare
Lay ſo heavy on my Breaſt;
But I found new Joy and Light there,
When with Heav'nly Love poſſeſt.
[99]
Come again then, Apparition,
Finiſh what thou haſt begun;
ROGER, ſtay, Thou Soul's Phyſician,
I with thee my Race will run.
Faith her Chariot has appointed
Now we're ſtretching for the Goal;
All the Wheels with Grace anointed,
Up to Heav'n to drive my Soul.

Mr. S— B—N—R—D, to Lady B—N—R—D, at — Hall, North. LETTER XV. Serious REFLECTIONS of Mr. B—R—D.—His BILL of EXPENCES.—A Farewell to BATH.

[100]
ALAS, my dear Mother, our Evil and Good
By few is diſtinguiſh'd, by few underſtood:
How oft are we doom'd to repent at the End,
The Events that our pleaſanteſt Proſpects attend;
As SOLON declar'd, in the laſt Scene alone,
All the Joys of our Life, all our Sorrows are known.
When firſt I came hither for Vapours and Wind,
To cure all Diſtempers, and ſtudy Mankind;
How little I dream'd of the Tempeſt behind.
I never once thought what a furious Blaſt,
What Storms of Diſtreſs would o'erwhelm me at laſt.
How wretched am I! what a fine Declamation
Might be made on the Subject of my Situation!
[101]I'm a Fable!— an Inſtance!— and ſerve to diſpenſe
An Example to all Men of Spirit and Senſe:
To all Men of Faſhion, and all Men of Wealth,
Who come to this place to recover their Health:
For my Means are ſo ſmall, and my Bills are ſo large,
I ne'er can come home till you ſend a Diſcharge.
Let the Muſe ſpeak the Cauſe, if a Muſe yet remain,
To ſupply me with Rhimes, and expreſs all my Pain.
Paid Bells, and Muſicians,
Drugs, Nurſe, and Phyſicians,
Balls, Raffles, Subſcriptions, and Chairs;
Wigs, Gowns, Skins and Trimming,
Good Books for the Women,
Plays, Concerts, Tea, Negus, and Prayers.
Paid the following Schemes,
Of all who it ſeems
Make Charity Buſineſs their Care:
A Gameſter decay'd,
And a prudiſh old Maid,
By Gaiety brought to Deſpair.
[102]A Fidler of Note,
Who, for Lace on his Coat,
To his Taylor was much in Arrears;
An Author of Merit,
Who wrote with ſuch Spirit,
The Pillory took off his Ears.
A Sum, my dear Mother, far heavier yet,
Captain CORMORANT won, when I learn'd Lanſquenet;
Two Hundred I paid him, and Five am in Debt.
For the Five, I had nothing to do but to write,
For the Captain was very well bred, and polite,
And took, as he ſaw my Expences were great,
My Bond, to be paid on the Clodpole Eſtate;
And asks nothing more while the Money is lent,
Than Intereſt paid him at Twenty per Cent.
But I'm ſhock'd to relate what Diſtreſſes befall
Miſs JENNY, my Siſter and TABBY and all:
Miſs JENNY, poor Thing, from this Bath Expedition,
Was in Hopes very ſoon to have chang'd her Condition;
[103]But Rumour has brought certain Things to her Ear,
Which I ne'er will believe, yet am ſorry to hear;
"That the Captain, her Lover, her dear ROMEÔ,
Was Baniſh'd the Army a great while ago.
That his Friends and his Foes He alike can betray,
And picks up a ſcandalous Living by Play:"
But if e'er I could think that the Captain had cheated,
Or my dear Couſin JENNY unworthily treated,
By all that is ſacred I ſwear, for his Pains
I'd cudgel him firſt, and then blow out his Brains.
For the Man I abhor like the Devil, dear Mother,
Who one Thing conceals, and profeſſes another.
O how ſhall we know the right Way to purſue!—
Do the Ills of Mankind from Religion accrue!—
Religion, deſign'd to relieve all our Care,
Has brought my poor Siſter to Grief and Deſpair:
Now ſhe talks of Damnation, and ſcrews up her face;
Then prates about ROGER, and ſpiritual Grace:
Her ſenſes, alas! ſeem at once gone aſtray—
No Pen can deſcribe it, no Letter convey.
But the Man without Sin, that Moravian Rabbi,
Has perfectly cur'd the Chloroſis of TABBY;
[104]And, if right I can judge, from her Shape and her Face,
She ſoon may produce him an Infant of Grace.
Now they ſay that all People, in our Situation,
Are very fine ſubjects for Regeneration:
But I think, my dear Mother, the beſt we can do,
Is to pack up our All, and return back to you.
Farewell then, ye Streams,
Ye poetical Themes!
Sweet Fountains for curing the Spleen!
I'm griev'd to the Heart,
Without Caſh to depart,
And quit this adorable Scene.
Where Gaming and Grace
Each other embrace,
Diſſipation and Piety meet:—
May all, who've a Notion
Of Cards or Devotion,
Make Bath their delightful Retreat.
S. B—D.
FINIS.
[][]
Notes
†
The Goddeſs of FOLLY.
†
Vide OLD BATH GUIDE.
3
The Editor, for many Reaſons, begs to be excuſed giving the Public the Sequel of this young Lady's Letter, but it the Reader will pleaſe to look into the Biſhop of Exeter's Book, entitled, The Enthuſiaſm of Methodiſts and Papiſts compared, He will find many Inſtances (particularly of young People) who have been elected in the Manner above.
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