How fair these Names, how much unlike they look To all the blurr’d Subscriptions in my Book; The Bridegroom’s Letters stand in row above, Tapering yet stout, like Pine-trees in his Grove; While free and fine the Bride’s appear below, As light and slender as her Jasmines grow; Mark now in what confusion, stoop or stand, The crooked Scrawls of many a clownish Hand, Now out, now in, they droop, they fall, they rise, Like raw Recruits drawn forth for Exercise; Ere yet reform’d and modell’d by the Drill, The free-born Legs stand striding as they will. Much have I tried to guide the Fist along, But still the Blunderers plac’d their Blottings wrong: Behold these Marks uncouth! how strange that men, Who guide the Plough, should fail to guide the Pen; For half a mile, the Furrows even lie; For half an inch the Letters stand awry;-- Is it that, strong and sturdy in the Field, They scorn the Arms of idle men to wield; Or give that Hand to guide the Goosequill-tip, That rules a Team and brandishes a Whip? The Lions they, whom conscious powers forbid, To play the Ape and “dandle with the Kid.” But yet, small Arts have charms for Female Eyes; Our Rustic Nymphs, the Beau and Scholar prize; Unletter’d Swains and Plough-men coarse, they slight. For those who dress and Amorous Scrolls indite. For _Bridget Dawdle_ happier Days had been, Had Footman _Daniel_ scorn’d his native Green; Or when he came an idle Coxcomb down, Had he his Love reserv’d for Lass in Town; To _Roger Pluck_ she then had pledg’d her Truth,-- A sturdy, sober, kind, unpolish’d Youth; But from the day, that fatal day she spied The Pride of _Daniel_, _Daniel_ was her Pride. In all Concerns was _Roger_ just and true, } But coarse his Doublet was and patch’d in view, } And Felt his Stockings were and blacker than his Shoe;} While _Daniel_’s Linen all was fine and fair,-- His Master wore it and he deign’d to wear;-- (To wear his Livery, some Respect might prove; To wear his Linen, must be sign of Love;) Blue was his Coat, unsoil’d by spot or stain; His Hose were Silk, his Shoes of Spanish-grain; A Silver Knot, his breadth of Shoulder bore; } A Diamond Buckle blaz’d his Breast before; } Diamond he swore it was! and shew’d it as he swore:} Rings on his Fingers shone; his milk-white Hand, Could Pick-tooth Case and Box for Snuff command: And thus, with clouded Cane, a Fop complete, He stalk’d, the jest and glory of the Street: Join’d with these powers, he could so sweetly sing, Talk with such toss and saunter with such swing; Laugh with such Glee and trifle with such Art, That _Bridget_’s Promise, fail’d to shield her Heart. _Roger_, meantime, to ease his amorous Cares, Fix’d his full mind upon his Farm’s Affairs;