All must remember that rare show When to the country Sense went down, And fools came flocking up to town; When knights (a work which all admit To be for knighthood much unfit) Built booths for hire; when parsons play'd, In robes canonical array'd, And, fiddling, join'd the Smithfield dance, The price of tickets to advance: 400 Or, unto tapsters turn'd, dealt out, Running from booth to booth about, To every scoundrel, by retail, True pennyworths of beef and ale, Then first prepared, by bringing beer in, For present grand electioneering; When heralds, running all about To bring in Order, turn'd it out; When, by the prudent Marshal's care, Lest the rude populace should stare, 410 And with unhallow'd eyes profane Gay puppets of Patrician strain, The whole procession, as in spite, Unheard, unseen, stole off by night; When our loved monarch, nothing both, Solemnly took that sacred oath, Whence mutual firm agreements spring Betwixt the subject and the king, By which, in usual manner crown'd, His head, his heart, his hands, he bound, 420 Against himself, should passion stir The least propensity to err, Against all slaves, who might prepare, Or open force, or hidden snare, That glorious Charter to maintain, By which we serve, and he must reign; Then Fancy, with unbounded sway, Revell'd sole mistress of the day, And wrought such wonders, as might make Egyptian sorcerers forsake 430 Their baffled mockeries, and own The palm of magic hers alone. A knight, (who, in the silken lap Of lazy Peace, had lived on pap; Who never yet had dared to roam 'Bove ten or twenty miles from home, Nor even that, unless a guide Was placed to amble by his side, And troops of slaves were spread around To keep his Honour safe and sound; 440 Who could not suffer, for his life, A point to sword, or edge to knife; And always fainted at the sight Of blood, though 'twas not shed in fight; Who disinherited one son For firing off an alder gun, And whipt another, six years old, Because the boy, presumptuous, bold To madness, likely to become A very Swiss, had beat a drum, 450 Though it appear'd an instrument Most peaceable and innocent, Having, from first, been in the hands And service of the City bands) Graced with those ensigns, which were meant To further Honour's dread intent, The minds of warriors to inflame, And spur them on to deeds of fame; With little sword, large spurs, high feather, Fearless of every thing but weather, 460 (And all must own, who pay regard To charity, it had been hard That in his very first campaign His honours should be soil'd with rain) A hero all at once became, And (seeing others much the same In point of valour as himself, Who leave their courage on a shelf From year to year, till some such rout