Is this too much? alas! my peaceful muse Cannot with half their virulence abuse. And hark! at other tables discord reigns, With feign'd contempt for losses and for gains; 170 Passions awhile are bridled; then they rage, In waspish youth, and in resentful age; With scraps of insult--"Sir, when next you play, Reflect whose money 'tis you throw away. No one on earth can less such things regard, But when one's partner doesn't know a card----" "I scorn suspicion, ma'am, but while you stand Behind that lady, pray keep down your hand."-- "Good heav'n, revoke! remember, if the set Be lost, in honour you should pay the debt."-- 180 "There, there's your money; but, while I have life, I'll never more sit down with man and wife; They snap and snarl indeed, but in the heat Of all their spleen, their understandings meet; They are Freemasons, and have many a sign, That we, poor devils! never can divine: May it be told, do ye divide th' amount, Or goes it all to family account?" * * * * * Next is the club, where to their friends in town Our country neighbours once a month come down; 190 We term it Free-and-easy, and yet we Find it no easy matter to be free: Ev'n in our small assembly, friends among, Are minds perverse, there's something will be wrong; Men are not equal; some will claim a right To be the kings and heroes of the night; Will their own favourite themes and notions start, And you must hear, offend them, or depart. There comes Sir Thomas from his village-seat, Happy, he tells us, all his friends to meet; 200 He brings the ruin'd brother of his wife, Whom he supports, and makes him sick of life: A ready witness whom he can produce Of all his deeds--a butt for his abuse. Soon as he enters, has the guests espied, Drawn to the fire, and to the glass applied-- "Well, what's the subject?--what are you about? The news, I take it--come, I'll help you out;"-- And then, without one answer, he bestows Freely upon us all he hears and knows; 210 Gives us opinions, tells us how he votes, } Recites the speeches, adds to them his notes, } And gives old ill-told tales for new-born anecdotes; } Yet cares he nothing what we judge or think, Our only duty's to attend and drink. At length, admonish'd by his gout, he ends The various speech, and leaves at peace his friends; But now, alas! we've lost the pleasant hour, And wisdom flies from wine's superior power. Wine, like the rising sun, possession gains, 220 And drives the mist of dulness from the brains; The gloomy vapour from the spirit flies, And views of gaiety and gladness rise. Still it proceeds, till from the glowing heat,