_A._ as 'tis first in th' Alphabet, So here he took the highest seat. As one whose Fortune, Birth, and Wit, Indeed did truly merit it. And here he neither struts nor swaggers, As I have known some Kings o' th' Beggers. But that convenient distance gave, Which else they'ld take without his leave. But him let all with Rev'rence name The Darling, and the Pride of Fame: Who's so all over wrapt in Bays, There's nothing to be seen but's Praise. He's one t' whom each Officious Muse Were of their Favours so profuse, That they have brought themselves to be Fed by his Mercy now; and we, The little Infants of the Art, } Do as severely feel the smart, } Deny'd a Younger Brothers part. } Nay, all our stocks won't mount t' a sum To pay him an _Encomium_. He's one whose Works, in times to come, Will be as Honour'd, and become Deathless as _Ben's_ or _Cowley's_ are, } As _Beaumont_, _Fletcher_, or _Shakespear_,} One he himself is pleas'd t' admire. } Nor could these Laureats living, be Better prefer'd, or lov'd than he. What could the _Muses_ more have done, Or _Apollo_ for a Son? Yet still he discontented is, And snarles at all the happiness The Richest Poetry can bring, And wounds it too with its own Sting. But who can blame that Active Soul, Which in a larger Sphere would roul? Whose Wit and Learning does deserve More than that narrow Art can give. Next unto _A. B._ took his place, Or Sir _Fopling_, if you please. I mean that Famous Limner, who So exactly his own Picture drew. Bless me! how neat a Wigg he has! What a rich Watch and Pocket-Glass! What a gay Suit trim'd all about! Made by a _French-man_ without doubt. His Ruffles and Cravat's all Lace, _Poynt a Venice_ he says it is. To what advantage does he wear His Rings? How stuft with Stones they are? One having this Inscription, _My Plow is all my Portion_. For you must know he's kept by a Miss, A _French_ one too, I've heard she is; Whose Favours tho' he strives to shew, Her scars he has, I assure you too. Here I must his Description end, For fear he should a Challenge send. Tho' he had better stay at home, To Hector Foot-boy, or a Groom.