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.