The Price of an Equipage

I ASK'D a friend, amidst the throng, Whose coach it was that trail'd along? " The gilded coach there—don't ye mind? " That with the footmen stuck behind."

" O Sir!" says he, "what! han't you seen it? " 'Tis Damon's coach, and Damon in it. " 'Tis odd, methinks, you have forgot " Your friend, your neighbour, and—what not! " Your old acquaintance Damon!"—"True; " But faith his Equipage is new."

" Bless me," said I, "where can it end? " What madness has possess'd my friend? " Four powder'd slaves, and those the tallest, " Their stomachs, doubtless, not the smallest! " Can Damon's revenue maintain, " In lace and food, so large a train? " I know his land—each inch o' ground— " 'Tis not a mile to walk it round— " If Damon's whole estate can bear " To keep his lad and one-horse chair, " I own 'tis past my comprehension." " Yes, Sir; but Damon has a pension—"

Thus does a false ambition rule us, Thus pomp delude, and folly fool us; To keep a race of flick'ring knaves, He grows himself the worst of slaves.