Envy and Fortune, a Tale

SAYS Envy to Fortune, "Soft, soft, Madam Flirt!
"Not so fast with your wheel, you 'll be down in the dirt.
"Well, and how does your David? Indeed my dear creature!
"You 'ave shewn him a wonderful deal of good nature;
"His bags are so full and such praises his due
"That the like was ne'er known—and allowing to you:
"But why won't you make him quite happy for life,
"And to all you have done add the gift of a wife?"
Says Fortune, and smil'd, "Madam Envy, God save ye!
"But why always sneering at me and poor Davy?
"I own that sometimes in contempt of all rules
"I lavish my favours on blockheads and sools;
"But the case is quite different here I aver it,
"For David ne'er knew me till brought me by Merit.
"And yet to convince you—Nay, Madam, no hisses—
"Good manners at least—Such behaviour as this is!"—
(For mention but Merit and Envy flies out
With a hiss and a yell that would silence a rout.
But Fortune went on)—"To convince you I say
"That I honour your scheme I 'll about it to-day.
"The man shall be marry'd, so pray now be easy,
"And Garrick for once shall do something to please ye."

So saying she rattled her wheel out of sight,
While Envy walk'd after and grinn'd with delight.
It seems it was a trick that she long had been brewing
To marry poor David and so be his ruin;
For Slander had told her the creature lov'd pelf,
And car'd not a fig for a soul but himself;
From thence she was sure had the devil a daughter
He'd snap at the girl so it was Fortune that brought her;
And then should her temper be sullen or haughty,
Her flesh too be frail, and incline to be naughty,
'Twould fret the poor fellow so out of his reason
That Barry and Quin would set fashions next season.

But Fortune, who saw what the Fury design'd,
Resolv'd to get David a wife to his mind,
Yet afraid of herself in a matter so nice
She visited Prudence and begg'd her advice.
The nymph shook her head when the bus'ness she knew,
And said that her female acquaintance were few;
That excepting Miss R***—O yes! there was one,
A friend of that lady's, she visited none;
But the first was too great and the last was too good,
And as for the rest she might get whom she cou'd.

Away hurry'd Fortune, perplex'd and half mad,
But her promise was pass'd, and a wife must be had:
She travers'd the Town from one corner to th' other,
Now knocking at one door and then at another.
The girls curtsy'd low as she look'd in their faces,
And bridled and primm'd with abundance of graces;
But this was conquettish and that was a prude,
One stupid and dull, th' other noisy and rude;
A third was affected, quite careless a fourth,
With prate without meaning and pride without worth;
A fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh, were such
As either knew nothing or something too much.—
In short as they pass'd she to all had objections,
The gay wanted thought, the good-humour'd affections,
The prudent were ugly, the sensible dirty,
And all of them flirts from fifteen up to thirty.

When Fortune saw this she began to look silly,
Yet still she went on till she reach'd Piccadilly,
But vex'd and fatigu'd, and the night growing late,
She rested her wheel within Burlington gate.
My lady rose up as she saw her come in,
"O ho! Madam Genius! pray where have you been?"
(For her ladyship thought from so serious an air
'Twas Genius come home, for it seems she liv'd there;)
But Fortune not minding her ladyship's blunder,
And wiping her forehead, cry'd "Well may you wonder
"To see me thus flurry'd"—then told her the case, lady,
And sigh'd till her ladyship laugh'd in her face.
"Mighty civil indeed!"—"Come, a truce," says my
"A truce with complaints, and perhaps I may aid ye,
"I'll shew you a girl that—Here, Martin, go tell—
"But she is gone to undress; by and by is as well—
"I 'll shew you a sight that you 'll fancy uncommon,
"Wit, beauty, and goodness, all met in a woman;
"A heart to no folly or mischief inclin'd,
"A body all grace and all sweetness a mind."
"O pray let me see her," says Fortune, and smil'd;
"Do but give her to me and I 'll make her my child.
"But who my Dear! who?—for you have not told yet"—
"Who indeed," says my lady, "if not Violette?"

The words were scarce spoke when she enter'd the room;
A blush at the stranger still heighten'd her bloom:
So humble her looks were, so mild was her air,
That Fortune astonish'd sat mute in her chair.
My lady rose up, and with countenance bland,
"This is Fortune my Dear!" and presented her hand:
The goddess embrac'd her and call'd her her own,
And compliments over her errand made known.

But how the sweet girl colour'd, flutter'd, and trembled,
How oft' she said No, and how ill she dissembled,
Or how little David rejoic'd at the news,
And swore from all others it was her he would chuse,
What methods he try'd and what arts to prevail,
All these were they told would but burden my tale—
In short all affairs were so happily carry'd
That hardly six weeks pass'd away till they marry'd.

But Envy grew sick when the story she heard,
Violette was the girl that of all she most fear'd;
She knew her good humour, her beauty and sweetness,
Her ease and compliance, her taste and her neatness;
From these she was sure that her man could not roam,
And must rise on the stage from contentment at home:
So on she went hissing, and inwardly curs'd her,
And Garrick next season will certainly burst her.