What various transformations we remark, |
From east Whitechapel to the west
Hyde Park! |
Men, women, children, houses, signs, and fashions, |
State, stage, trade, taste, the humours
and the passions; |
The Exchange, Change Alley, wheresoeer youre ranging, |
Court, city, country, all are
changed or changing: |
The streets, some time ago, were paved with stones, |
Which, aided by a hackney-
coach, half broke your bones. |
The purest lovers then indulged in bliss; |
They run great hazard if they
stole a kiss. |
One chaste salute!the damsel criedOh, fie! |
As they approachdslap went the coach
awry |
Poor Sylvia got a bump, and Damon a black eye. |
But now weak nerves in hackney-coaches
roam, |
And the crammd glutton snores, unjolted, home; |
Of former times, that polishd thing a beau, |
Is
metamorphosed now from top to toe; |
Then the full flaxen wig, spread oer the shoulders, |
Conceald the
shallow head from the beholders. |
But now the wholes reversedeach fop appears, |
Croppd and trimmd
up, exposing head and ears: |
The buckle then its modest limits knew, |
Now, like the ocean, dreadful to
the view, |
Hath broke its bounds, and swallowed up the shoe: |
The wearers foot, like his once fine estate, |
Is almost lost, the encumbrance is so great. |
Ladies may smileare they not in the plot? |
The bounds of
nature have not they forgot? |
Were they designd to be, when put together, |
Made up, like shuttlecocks, of
cork and feather? |
Their pale-faced grandmammas appeared with grace |
When dawning blushes rose
upon the face; |
No blushes now their once-loved station seek; |
The foe is in possession of the cheek! |
No heads of old, too high in featherd state, |
Hinderd the fair to pass the lowest gate; |
A church to enter
now, they must be bent, |
If ever they should try the experiment. |
As change thus circulates throughout
the nation, |
Some plays may justly call for alteration; |
At least to draw some slender covering oer, |
That
graceless wit1 which was too bare before: |
Those writers well and wisely use their pens, |
Who turn our
wantons into Magdalens; |
And howsoever wicked wits revile em, |
We hope to find in you their stage asylum. |