Ad Infinitum

SINCE Life's but a jest, let us follow this rule,
There's nothing so pleasant as playing the Fool;
In town we may practice, as well as at school,
Which nobody can deny.

The World turns about, the same things o'er and o'er;
We fool it; our forefathers fool'd it before:
They did what we do, which our sons will encore.

Life's but a half holiday, lent us to stare;
We wander, and wonder, in Vanity's fair;
All baby-like bawling for each bauble there.

If Denial shou'd follow a Lover's request,
Like a tooth-cutting child he's a troublesome guest,
Till the chit by his deary is hush'd to her breast.

When Discontents dare against Court-service riot,
The Minister, nurse-like, prepares proper diet;
They've Pensions for Pap, then the urchins are quiet.

We, Children-like, covet the glitter of gay things,
Make racquet for ribbonds, and such sort of play-things;
Which we cannot have tho'—without we can say things.

But before we can say, we shou'd see how things go,
If the Market is high, or Majority low,
Then, just at the selling-price, give Yes, or No.

We take, or are all in our turns taken in;
The World, to be sure, 'tis a shame and a sin,
Might soon be much better,—but who will begin.

Each age has its folly, ours is dissipation,
Enfeebling—but why all this dull declamation?
If weaken'd, we'll drink to the Strength of the Nation.

Allowing things wrong, Sir, which way shall we right 'em?
'Tis Taste to hear good things, 'tis tasty to slight 'em:
It was, is, and will be so, ad Infinitum.
Which nobody can deny.