Thus Dorset, purring like a thoughtful cat, Married, but wiser puss ne'er thought of that: And first he worried her with railing rhyme, 180 Like Pembroke's mastives at his kindest time; Then for one night sold all his slavish life, A teeming widow, but a barren wife; Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, He lugg'd about the matrimonial load; Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he, Has ill restored him to his liberty; Which he would use in his old sneaking way, Drinking all night, and dozing all the day; Dull as Ned Howard,[61] whom his brisker times 190 Had famed for dulness in malicious rhymes. Mulgrave had much ado to 'scape the snare, Though learn'd in all those arts that cheat the fair: For after all his vulgar marriage mocks, With beauty dazzled, Numps was in the stocks; Deluded parents dried their weeping eyes, To see him catch his Tartar for his prize; The impatient town waited the wish'd-for change, And cuckolds smiled in hopes of sweet revenge; Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see, 200 As his estate, his person too was free: Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move; To gold he fled from beauty and from love; Yet, failing there, he keeps his freedom still, Forced to live happily against his will: 'Tis not his fault, if too much wealth and power Break not his boasted quiet every hour. And little Sid,[62] for simile renown'd, Pleasure has always sought but never found: Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, 210 His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong, His meat and mistresses are kept too long. But sure we all mistake this pious man, Who mortifies his person all he can: What we uncharitably take for sin, Are only rules of this odd capuchin; For never hermit under grave pretence, Has lived more contrary to common sense; And 'tis a miracle we may suppose, 220 No nastiness offends his skilful nose: Which from all stink can with peculiar art Extract perfume and essence from a f--t. Expecting supper is his great delight; He toils all day but to be drunk at night: Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits, Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall[63] for wits.