Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/221

Loved by the great, and courted by the fair,
For none that e'er had riches found despair;
Gold to the loathsomest object gives a grace,
And sets it off, and makes even Bovey please;
But tattered poverty they all despise,
Love stands aloof, and from the scarecrow flies.'
Thus a staunch miser to his hopeful brat
Chalks out the way that leads to an estate;
Whose knowledge oft with utmost stretch of brain
No higher than this vast secret can attain,
Five and four 's nine, take two, and seven remain.
Go, doctor, after this, and rack your brains,
Unravel Scripture with industrious pains;
On musty fathers waste your fruitless hours,
Correct the critics and expositors;
Outvie great Stillingfleet in some vast tome,
And there confound both Bellarmine and Rome;
Or glean the rabbies of their learnèd store,
To find what Father Simeon has passed o'er;
Then at the last some bulky piece compile,
There lay out all your time, and pains, and skill;
And when 'tis done and finished for the press,
To some great name the mighty work address,
Who, for a full reward of all your toil,
Shall pay you with a gracious nod or smile:
Just recompense of life too vainly spent!
An empty 'Thank you, sir!' and compliment.
But, if to higher honours you pretend,
Take the advice and counsel of a friend;
Here quit the desk, and throw your scarlet by,
And to some gainful course yourself apply;
Go, practise with some banker how to cheat,
There's choice in town, enquire in Lombard-street;
Let Scot and Ockam wrangle as they please;
And thus in short with me conclude the case,
A doctor is no better than an ass.
’A doctor, sir, yourself! Pray have a care,
This is to push your raillery too far.