All the Comforts of Life in a Tavern are known,
'Tis his Home who possesses not one of his own;
And to him who has rather too much of that one,
"Tis the House of a Friend where he 's welcome to run:
The instant you enter my Door you're my Lord,
With whose Taste and whose Pleasure I'm proud to accord;
And the louder you call and the longer you stay,
The more I am happy to serve and obey.
To the House of a Friend if you 're pleas'd to retire,
You must all things admit, you must all things admire;
You must pay with Observance the Price of your Treat,
You must eat what is prais'd, and must praise what you eat:
But here you may come, and no Tax we require,
You may loudly condemn what you greatly admire;
You may growl at our Wishes and Pains to excel,
And may snarl at the Rascals who please you so well.
At your Wish we attend, and confess that your Speech
On the Nation's Affairs might the Minister teach;
His Views you may blame, and his Measures oppose,
There's no Tavern-Treason-you 're under the Rose:
Should Rebellions arise in your own little State,
With me you may safely their consequence wait;
To recruit your lost Spirits 'tis prudent to come,
And to fly to a Friend when the Devil's at Home.
That I've Faults is confess'd; but it won't be denied,
Tis my Interest the Faults of my Neighbours to hide;
Af I've sometimes lent Scandal occasion to prate,
I've often conceal'd what she'd love to relate:
If to Justice's Bar some have wauder'd from mine,
"Twas because the dull Rogues wouldn't stay by their Wine;
And for Brawls at my House, well the Poet explains,
That Men drink shallow Draughts and so madden their Brains.
A difficult Subject for Poetry.-Invocation of the Muse. -Description of the principal Inn and those of the first Class.-The large deserted Tavern.-Those of a second Order.-Their Company.—One of particular Description.-A lower kind of Public-Houses: yet distinguished among themselves.—Houses on the Quays for Sailors.-The Green-Man: its Landlord, and the Adventure of his Marriage, &c.
MUCH do I need, and therefore will I ask
A Muse to aid me in my present Task;
For then with special Cause we beg for Aid,
When of our Subject we are most afraid:
Inns are this Subject-'tis an ill-drawn Lot,
So, thou who gravely triflest, fail me not.
Fail not, but haste, and to my Memory bring
Scenes yet unsung, which few would choose to sing:
Thou mad'st a Shilling splendid; thou hast thrown
On humble Themes the Graces all thine own;
By thee the Mistress of a Village-School
Became a Queen, enthron'd upon her Stool;
And far beyond the rest thou gav'st to shine,
Belinda's Lock-that deathless work was thine.
Come, lend thy cheerful Light, and give to please,
These Seats of Revelry, these Scenes of Ease;
Who sings of Inns, much danger has to dread,
And needs Assistance from the Fountain-head.
High in the Street, o'erlooking all the Place,
The rampant Lion shows his kingly Face;
His ample Jaws extend from side to side,
His Eyes are glaring, and his Nostrils wide;
In silver Shag the sovereign Form is drest,
A Mane horrific sweeps his ample Chest;
Elate with Pride, he seems t' assert his Reign,
And stands the Glory of his wide Domain.
Yet nothing dreadful to his Friends the sight,
But Sign and Pledge of Welcome and Delight:
To him the noblest Guest the Town detains,
Flies for Repast, and in his Court remains;
Him too the Crowd with longing Looks admire,
Sigh for his Joys, and modestly retire;
Here not a Comfort shall to them be lost
Who never ask or never feel the Cost.
The ample Yards on either side contain
Buildings where Order and Distinction reign;-
The splendid Carriage of the wealthier Guest,
The ready Chaise and Driver smartly drest;
Whiskeys and Gigs and Curricles are there,
And high-fed Prancers many a raw-bon'd Pair.
On all without a lordly Host sustains
The care of Empire, and observant reigns;
The parting Guest beholds him at his side,
With Pomp obsequious, bending in his Pride;
Round all the Place his Eyes all Objects meet,
Attentive, silent, civil and discreet.
O'er all within the Lady-Hostess rules,
Her Bar she governs, and her Kitchen schools;
To every Guest th' appropriate Speech is made,
And every Duty with Distinction paid;
Respectful, easy, pleasant or polite
"Your Honour's Servant-Mister Smith, good Night."
Next, but not near, yet honour'd through the Town, There swing, incongruous pair! the Bear and Crown; That Crown suspended Gems and Ribbands deck, A golden Chain hangs o'er that furry Neck: Unlike the nobler Beast, the Bear is bound, And with the Crown so near him, scowls uncrown'd; Less his Dominion, but alert are all
Without, within, and ready for the Call;
Smart Lads and light run nimbly here and there,
Nor for neglected Duties mourns the Bear.
To his Retreats on the Election-Day,
The losing Party found their silent Way;
There they partook of each consoling Good,
Like him uncrown'd, like him in sullen Mood-
Threat'ning, but bound.-Here meet a social kind,
Our various Clubs for various Cause combin'd;
Nor has he Pride, but thankful takes as Gain,
The Dew-drops shaken from the Lion's Mane:
A thriving Couple here their Skill display,
And share the Profits of no vulgar Sway.
Third in our Borough's List appears the Sign
Of a fair Queen-the gracious Caroline;
But in decay-each Feature in the Face
Has stain of Time, and token of Disgrace.
The Storm of Winter, and the Summer-Sun,
Have on that Form their equal Mischief done;
The Features now are all disfigur'd seen,
And not one Charm adorns th' insulted Queen:
To this poor Face was never Paint applied,
Th' unseemly Work of cruel Time to hide ;
Here we may rightly such Neglect upbraid,
Paint on such Faces is by Prudence laid.
Large the Domain, but all within combine
To correspond with the dishonour'd Sign;
And all around dilapidates; you call—
But none replies-they're inattentive all:
At length a ruin'd Stable holds your Steed,
While you through large and dirty Rooms proceed,
Spacious and cold; a proof they once had been
In honour,-now magnificently mean;
Till in some small half-furnished Room you rest,
Whose dying Fire denotes it had a Guest.
In those you pass'd where former Splendour reign'd,
You saw the Carpets torn, the Paper stain'd;
Squares of discordant Glass in Windows fix'd,
And Paper oil'd in many a space betwixt;
A soil'd and broken Sconce, a Mirror crack'd,
With Table underpropp'd, and Chairs new-back'd;
A marble Side-slab with ten thousand Stains,
And all an ancient Tavern's
With much entreaty, they your Food prepare,
And acid Wine afford, with meagre Fare;
Heartless you sup; and when a dozen times
You've read the fractur'd Window's senseless Rhymes;
Have been assur'd that Phœbe Green was fair,
And Peter Jackson took his Supper there;
You reach a chilling Chamber, where you dread
Damps, hot or cold, from a tremendous Bed;
Late comes your Sleep, and you are waken'd soon
By rustling Tatters of the old Festoon.
O'er this large Building, thus by Time defac'd,
A servile Couple has its Owner plac'd,
Who not unmindful that its Style is large,
To lost Magnificence adapt their Charge:
Thus an old Beauty, who has long declin'd,
Keeps former Dues and Dignity in Mind;
And wills that all Attention should be paid
For Graces vanish'd and for Charms decay'd.
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