Thy virtues meet their just reward,
Attended by the sable guard.
Charm'd by thy voice, the 'prentice drops
The snow-ball destin'd at thy chops:
Thy graceful steps, and colonel's air,
Allure the cinder-picking fair.
M. No more — in mark of true affection,
I take thee under my protection:
Your parts are good, 'tis not deny'd;
I wish they had been well apply'd.
But now observe my council, (viz.)
Adapt your habit to your phyz;
You must no longer thus equip ye,
As Horace says, eptat ephippia;
(There 's Latin too, that you may see
How much improv'd by Dr. )
I have a coat at home, that you may try;
'Tis just like this, which hangs by geometry.
My hat has much the nicer air;
Your block will fit it to a hair:
That wig, I would not for the world
Have it so formal, and so curl'd;
'Twill be so oily and so sleek,
When I have lain in it a week,
You'll find it well prepar'd to take
The figure of toupee and snake.
Thus dress'd alike from top to toe,
That which is which 'tis hard to know;
When first in publick we appear,
I'll lead the van, you keep the rear:
Be careful, as you walk behind;
Use all the talents of your mind;
Be studious well to imitate
My portly motion, mien, and gait;
