Xxxi. The Preferment Poem by Ellis Walker

Is any one saluted or embrac'd
With more respect than you? or higher plac'd
At table? Is he thought more grave and wise,
Or better parts, and abler to advise?
Grudge not: but, if these things be good, rejoice
They're plac'd so well, and meet so good a choice:
And if they're bad, why should you take offence,
That you in these have not the preference?
But how can you, that neither cringe nor bow,
Nor other antick spaniel-tricks do shew,
Nor flatter, fawn, forswear, assent or lie,
Nor use that servile knavish industry,
By which base supple slaves their ends obtain,
The same respect, or the same favour gain?
And how shall you, who scorn to condescend,
With early morning visits to attend
Th' awaking of a rich, proud, pow'rful friend,
Expect to share th' advantages that fall
To him that helps to fill his crowded hall?
Or, like a centinel, still walks before
His patron's house, and almost courts his door;
Who, after long attendance, thinks he's bless'd
As much as Persians bowing to the east,
When the sun rises from his watry nest;
And swears the eastern god doth not dispense
A kinder, or a gentler influence,
And that each look, each smile of his, doth bring
Warmth to the summer, beauty to the spring;
Who, when his lordship frowns, admires the grace
And manly fierceness that adorns his face;
Applauds the thunder of his well-mouth'd oaths,
And then the modish fashion of his cloaths,
And vows the taylor, who the garments made,
Happy in making them, though never paid.
These are the means by which he stands possess'd
Of favours, by each fly-blown fool caress'd,
At ev'ry feast an acceptable guest.
These if you'd purchase, and not give the price;
Unjust, unsatiable's your avarice;
As for familiar instance, what's the rate,
The gard'ner holds, and sells his lettuce at?
Let us suppose a farthing; he that buys
Bears off the purchase, but lays down the price;
Your sallad wants these lettuce, you with-hold
The small equivalent for which they're sold;
Nor is your case a jot the worse for this,
For as the lettuce, which he bought are his,
So yours, who did not buy, the farthing is.
Thus if you're not invited out to dine,
You pay not for his meat, nor for his wine;
For he (be not deceiv'd ) who entertains,
Doth it not gratis, he too looks for gains;
Right bounteous tho he seems, he sells his meat,
And praise expects for every bit you eat;
Each luscious draught, each pleasing delicate,
Is but a specious snare, a tempting bait;
You the rich entertainment dearly buy
By mean, obsequious, servile flattery.
If then these things that must be purchas'd thus,
Seem useful to you and commodious,
Lay down the value, do not think to get,
Unless you give the rate at which they're set,
These if on easier terms you would provide,
And without paying for them be supply'd,
How can your foolish wish be satisfy'd?
'Well then, but shall I nothing have instead
Of this dear feast, that still runs in my head?'
Yes, if you're not insatiable, you have
Enough in lieu thereof, you're not a slave;
You have not prais'd him who's below your hate,
You've not admir'd his dinner, nor his plate,
Nor past a complement against your will,
Nor in low cringes shewn your aukward skill,
Nor fed his dogs, to shew the vast respect
The master of the fav'rites may expect;
Nor did you admire his sumptuous furniture,
Nor all that civil insolence indure,
With which at meeting he informs you how,
When you depart his presence, you must bow,
Nor have you born his arrogance and pride,
While he surveys his board on ev'ry side,
And fancies that he's bountiful and great,
And thinks he makes you happy by his meat.