Song XCVIII. the Auction

I'll strive to sing something, yet wou'd not do wrong, Will you please to accept of a Common-place Song;— This World's like an Auction for seling and shewing, Truth, Friendship, and Gratitude,—going! a going!

They are going!—but how? not by hammer knock'd down,— No, no! out of Taste, they must go out of Town. Such stuff wou'd our dear dissipation encumber, They are shipp'd off for sea, and exported as lumber.

Preferment put up! who bids? I, I, I, I; Such a noise it has made we the Lot must put by: At the name of Preferment if uproar is heard, No wonder such clamour against the preferr'd.

Confusion, and eke Contradiction its mate, Fill out heads with,—I don't know what politic prate; As all to be in, suppose equal pretences, Of Innings when baulk'd, they're out of their senses.

Yet, seriously, Sirs, this world's not so bad, Some Women are chaste, and some Men are not mad; But where do they live? 'tis not worth while to try, They are such sort of folks other folks can't live by.

How easy is Weakness by Wickedness turn'd, Unworthiness welcom'd, and Worthiness scorn'd; The Female Sex charge not with prostitute vice, Mankind will be bought come but up to their price.

All Men and their Measures 'tis easy to see, No Parties, but Parties of Pleasure for me; Let this Side, or that Side, or both Sides be mad, We know no distinction but good Men and bad.

Will any here hesitate how they declare? Or, Toast the good people at home and elsewhere; Their country, complexion, religion, or wealth, We heed not, but drink to the HONEST MAN's HEALTH.