May all the Sons of _Helicon_ } Take heed, this Fate prove not their own!} For I've a shrewd suspicion! } I've seen the briskest of our Crew Walk peny-less, and hungry too, In _Temple-walks_, 'bout Dinner-time, Digesting his crude thoughts int' Rhime; Where, if he meets with a Sir-fool, With empty Head, and Pockets full, Up to him straight he'll make, and cry, Where does your Worship Dine to day? I was this Morning bid by two; } But Faith I don't much care to go,} I'd rather take a bit with you. } Then, stretching, swears he is not right, Since being plaguy drunk last Night. And's Company, you needs must know, _My Lord_--_Sir John_--and God knows who. But tho' the Gallant he attacks, Not the least Invitation makes: He must, he says, out of esteem, Not that he's Hungry, wait on him. Then as soon as Dinner's ended, And his last Work read and commended, (Which without Vanity, he says, Is th' best he writ, his Master-piece.) He whisp ring in his Cully's ear, Makes his Necessity appear: Tells him of his last-nights expence, And how he's not recruited since. Then begs his Pard'n, he must away,} To get a Ticket for th' new Play, } Acted at the _Duke's House_ to day.} I've sev'ral _Coffee-Houses_ known} By these unhappy Guests undone, } For People, now adays, are grown } So wise, they first of all peep in,} And if a Poet there is seen, } They presently down stairs agen. } For who a Devil cares to sit To be drawn by a Poet's wit? Sir _Am'rous_ can't make a Relation Of his last-nights Assignation. The _Sycophant_ can't exercise His Art, for these quick-sighted Spies: Nor _Fopling_ comb his Wigg, but they Make it a Humour for a Play. The Cheat, the Pick-pocket, and Bully, (Who're the best Guests, and spend most Money) Flie the loath'd House where these appear, As if the Constable were there.