As for my _Cloak_, 'tis well enough. Only 'tis out of Fashion now. But I'm content my Rags 't does hide, For this is an ill time for Pride. My _Stockings_ are worse rent and torn, Than ever _Poverty_ was drawn: And round about more _Stars_ appear } Than _Ursa major_ has in th' Sphere,} Or any _Constellation_ there. } My _Shoes_ made of thin _Spanish_ Leather, Do sigh, and sob this Rainy Weather: And in dumb Language of their own, Pity mine, 'cause their _Souls_ are gone. As for my _Linnen_, let 't alone,} It needs not a Description; } As I'm a Poet, I have none. } My lac'd _Crevat_ lies in _Shoe-Lane_, Pawn'd for Tripe, and Chitterlin, With an honest Mother there, One Mistress _Smith_, a Victualler. My _Shirt_ lies Morgag'd in a Celler, About the middle of _Long-Acre_, With a Shee-Cook, call'd _Goody Dutton_, For Porrage, Beans, and Chops of Mutton. Oh that I had a wooden Leg! Or but one Arm, then might I beg! I'd Steal or Cheat, did I know how, 'Tis better hang than perish so. I could not hear this piteous moan Unmov'd, nor let him sigh alone. But when I'd all the Comfort gave, He could from Friendly Advice receive; I lent him six-pence, which was half Of the small Stock I had my self. Then after many thanks, and vows, Unto _White-Fryers_ straight he goes: Where Bread and Cheese he said he'ld buy; Or fill himself with Curds and Whey. You see what Malice Fate has shown } To this poor Wretch, who once was known} To be the gayest Spark in Town. } One who would play at six-pence gleek, And go to _Creswel_'s once a week: Who Din'd at _Locket_'s ev'ry day, And sate in th' Boxes at a Play. Envy it self cannot dispraise His Poems, nor some of his Plays. Three of which just Applause did bear In the _Royal Theatre_. Lords and Knights desired to be Made happy in his Company; And did with a due Rev'rence mark Him, as he walk'd the Streets or _Park_. But this did in a moment cease, 'Twas but a sudden, short-liv'd blaze, Like that which is from Meteors sent, Which end their Shine when th' Fuel's spent. Running in Debt, and living High,} And the hissing of his last Play,} Did bring him to this Misery. }