And ever when your silent thoughts Have on this subject been intent, Set down as nearly as you can, How long on dress your thoughts were bent. [Illustration] If faithfully you should perform This task, ’twould teach you to repair Lost hours, by giving unto dress Not more of time than its due share. [Illustration] [Illustration: A BALLAD: NOTING THE DIFFERENCE OF RICH AND POOR, IN THE WAYS OF A RICH NOBLE’S PALACE AND A POOR WORKHOUSE _To the tune of the “Old and Young Courtier.”_] XIV In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold; In a wretched workhouse Age’s limbs are cold: There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire, Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire. In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine, They have store of good venison, with old canary wine, With singing and music to heighten the cheer; Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper’s best fare. In a costly palace Youth is still caress’d By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord’s jest; In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails, Does age begin to prattle?--no man hearkeneth to his tales. In a costly palace if the child with a pin Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is call’d in; In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish, For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish. In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust; In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust, Thinks upon the former days, when he was well to do, Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too. In a costly palace Youth his temples hides With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides; In a wretched workhouse Age’s crown is bare, With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air. [Illustration] In peace, as in war, ’tis our young gallants’ pride To walk, each one i’ the streets, with a rapier by his side, That none to do them injury may have pretence; Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration: THE BROKEN DOLL] XV An infant is a selfish sprite: But what of that? the sweet delight Which from participation springs, Is quite unknown to these young things. We elder children then will smile At our dear little John awhile, And bear with him, until he see There is a sweet felicity In pleasing more than only one, Dear little, craving, selfish John. He laughs, and thinks it a fine joke That he our new wax doll has broke. Anger will never teach him better: We will the spirit and the letter Of courtesy to him display By taking in a friendly way These baby frolics; till he learn True sport from mischief to discern.