Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/221

Loved by the great, and courted by the fair,
For none that e'er had riches found despair;
Gold to the loathsomest object gives a grace,
And sets it off, and makes even Bovey please;
But tattered poverty they all despise,
Love stands aloof, and from the scarecrow flies.'
⁠Thus a staunch miser to his hopeful brat
Chalks out the way that leads to an estate;
Whose knowledge oft with utmost stretch of brain
No higher than this vast secret can attain,
Five and four 's nine, take two, and seven remain.
⁠Go, doctor, after this, and rack your brains,
Unravel Scripture with industrious pains;
On musty fathers waste your fruitless hours,
Correct the critics and expositors;
Outvie great Stillingfleet in some vast tome,
And there confound both Bellarmine and Rome;
Or glean the rabbies of their learnèd store,
To find what Father Simeon has passed o'er;
Then at the last some bulky piece compile,
There lay out all your time, and pains, and skill;
And when 'tis done and finished for the press,
To some great name the mighty work address,
Who, for a full reward of all your toil,
Shall pay you with a gracious nod or smile:
Just recompense of life too vainly spent!
An empty 'Thank you, sir!' and compliment.
⁠But, if to higher honours you pretend,
Take the advice and counsel of a friend;
Here quit the desk, and throw your scarlet by,
And to some gainful course yourself apply;
Go, practise with some banker how to cheat,
There's choice in town, enquire in Lombard-street;
Let Scot and Ockam wrangle as they please;
And thus in short with me conclude the case,
A doctor is no better than an ass.
⁠’A doctor, sir, yourself! Pray have a care,
This is to push your raillery too far.