Song XCIII. Fools-hall

Old Homer nodded long ago, And modern Bards oft' sleep we know; They doze to dream, and dream to write, 'Twas thus with me the other night. Sleeping by all somnif'rous rules, Methought 'twas in the Hall of Fools; More properly the place to call, The Learned say, it was Fools-Hall.

There Billingsgate, with front of brass, And Faction, rode on braying Ass; While scurril' Banter leer'd along, With face buffoon, and loll'd-out tongue. Riot there, with mouth stretch'd wide, On a Drunkard sat astride; Spangled Lewdness op'd the Ball, And Nonsense echo'd round Fools-Hall.

Credulity, the Dupe of Lyes, Stupidity in Thought's disguise; Dullness came in Hood and Cowl, Solemn as the broad-fac'd Owl. Quirk and Quaintness hand in hand, In Lawyer's gown, and Pleader's band. On tiptoe Pride o'erlook'd them all,— While Scandal flew about Fools-Hall.

Base Scribblers arm'd with white and black, To shine or soil, to heal or hack, With stone-blind Ignorance stood next, And Pedants tearing Shakespeare's text. There Prejudice the day denies, With hands held up before his eyes; Pert Dissipation welcom'd all, She kept it up within Fools-Hall.

With Vanity blind Zeal was pair'd; Hypocrisy their profits shar'd; Fraud, Pimp-like, Superstition led, But hoodwink'd, to Imposture's bed. Miss Affectation made the Rout, Debauch the sick'ning Feast sat out; While Doctors waited Symptom's call, Disease's vapours fill'd Fools-Hall.

The stupid Heirs of much-muck'd Land, With wheezing Gluttons throng'd the Strand; Great sport they hop'd, they long'd to see, Heedless what victim 'twas to be. But wealthy Dunces joke the best On Merit, when 'tis most distress'd; While Sots, while Coxcombs great and small, Paraded, grinning, round Fools-Hall.

Plain Truth appear'd, but at the sight They shriek'd, they cou'd not bear the fright; The CRY confin'd him in the Stocks, And Virtue prov'd not Orthodox. Honour the parish pass'd away, And Wit was gagg'd for Folly's play; Deserted Beauty, mock'd by all, The Beadle's Whip drove from Fools-Hall.

O'erwhelm'd with that I saw, I wept, And, happily, no longer slept; Malice, methought, had spy'd my tears, Exposing me to Party's Sneers, Who hiss'd, and shov'd me thro' the throng; I'woke, as I was dragg'd along,— Here's Women, Wine, and Health to all, Who scorn the crouds which fill Fools-Hall.