Are known to honest quadrupeds: No single brute his fellow leads. Brutes never meet in bloody fray, Nor cut each other's throats for pay. Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape Comes nearest us in human shape: Like man, he imitates each fashion, And malice is his ruling passion: But both in malice and grimaces A courtier any ape surpasses. Behold him humbly cringing wait Upon the minister of state; View him soon after to inferiors Aping the conduct of superiors: He promises with equal air, And to perform takes equal care. He in his turn finds imitators; At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters, Their master's manners still contract, And footmen lords and dukes can act. Thus at the court, both great and small Behave alike, for all ape all. * * * * * DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER. Where the Red Lion, staring o'er the way, Invites each passing stranger that can pay; Where Calvert's butt, and Parsons' black champagne, Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury Lane; There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, The Muse found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug. A window, patched with paper, lent a ray That dimly show'd the state in which he lay: The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread; The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; The royal Game of Goose was there in view, And the Twelve Rules the royal martyr drew; The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place; And brave Prince William show'd his lamp-black face. The morn was cold; he views with keen desire The rusty grate unconscious of a fire: With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scored, And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney-board; A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay, A cap by night—a stocking all the day! AN EPILOGUE, INTENDED FOR MRS. BULKLEY.