'Tis not my custom to engage myself, Till first I know how I'm to be employ'd, And whether plenty is to crown the board. I first inquire by whom the feast is given, Who are the guests, and what the kind of fare; For you must know I keep a register Of different ranks, that I may judge at once Whom to refuse, and where to offer service. For instance now, with the seafaring tribe. A captain just escaped from the rough sea, Who, fearing shipwreck, cut away his mast, Unshipp'd his rudder, or was forced to throw Part of his loading overboard, now comes To sacrifice on his arrival; him I cautiously avoid: and reason good; No credit can be gain'd by serving him, For he does nothing for the sake of pleasure, But merely to comply with custom; then His habits are so economical, He calculates beforehand the expense. And makes a nice division of the whole Between himself and his ship's company, So that each person eats but of his own. Another, just three days arrived in port, Without or wounded mast or shatter'd sail, With a rich cargo from Byzantium; He reckons on his ten or twelve per cent. Clear profit of adventure, is all joy, All life, all spirits, chuckles o'er his gain, And looks abroad, like a true sailor, for Some kind and tender-hearted wench, to share His happy fortunes, and is soon supplied By the vile pimps that ply about the port. This is the man for me; him I accost, Hang on his steps, and whisper in his ear, "Jove the preserver," nor withdraw my suit, Till he has fairly fix'd me in his service. This is my practice.—If I see some youth Up to the ears in love, who spends his time In prodigality and wild expense, Him I make sure of.—But the cautious man, Who calls a meeting at a joint expense, Collects the symbols, and deposits them Safe in his earthen pot; he may call loud, And pull my robe, he'll not be heard, I pay No heed to such mean wretches, for no gain But blows can be obtain'd by serving them; Though you work hard to please them night and day, If you presume to ask such fellow for The wages you have earn'd, he frowns, and cries, "Bring me the pot, you varlet;" then bawls out, "The lentils wanted vinegar;"—again Demand your money, "Wretch," he loudly cries, "Be silent, or I'll make you an example For future cooks to mend their manners by." More I could tell, but I have said enough. _B._ You need not fear the service I require, 'Tis for a set of free and easy girls, Who live hard by, and wish to celebrate Gaily the feast of their beloved Adonis. She who invites is a right merry lass,