No tool cf raisen.....

But spoilt by CUSTOM, and the ass
Though known among a cerina

He did not like to be in debt:
He shudder'd at the dicer's box.
Nor thought it very heterodox

That tradesmen should be sometimes pad
And bargains kept as well as made.
His growing credit, as a sinner,
Was that he lik'd to spoil a dinner:
Made pleasure and made business wait
And still, by system, came too late
Yet 'twas a hopeful indication,
On which to found a reputation
Small habits, well pursued betimes
May reach the dignity of crimes
And who a juster claim prefer
Than one who always broke
His mornings were not spe

284

The Destiny, who wove the thread
Of Florio's being, sigh'd and said,
"Poor youth! this cumbrous twist of gold
More than my shuttle well can hold,
For which thy anxious fathers toil'd,
Thy white and even thread has spoil'd
'Tis this shall warp thy pliant youth
From sense, simplicity, and truth;
Thy erring fire, by wealth misled,
Shall scatter pleasures round thy head,
When wholesome discipline's control,
Should brace the sinews of thy soul;
Coldly thou'lt toil for learning's prize,
For why should he that's rich be wise?"
The gracious Master of mankind,
Who knew us vain, corrupt, and blind,
said,
In mercy, though in anger

That man should earn his daily bread :
His lot inaction renders worse,
While labour mitigates the curse.
The idle, life's worst burdens bear,
And meet, what toil escapes, despair!
Forgive, nor lay the fault on me,
This mixture of mythology;
The muse of Paradise has deign'd
With truth to mingle fables feign'd;
And though the bard who would attain
The glories, Milton, of thy strain,
Will never reach thy style or thoughts
He may be like thee-in thy faults,
Exhausted Florio, at the age

When youth should rush on glory's stage ;
When life should open fresh and new,
And ardent hope her schemes pursue ;
Of youthful gaiety bereft,

Had scarce an unbroached pleasure left ;
Te found already to his cost,

e shining gloss of life was lost;

And pleasure was so coy a prude,
She fled the more, the more pursued ;
Or if, o'ertaken and caress'd,

He loath'd and left her when possess'd.
But Florio knew the world; that science
Sets sense and learning at defiance;
He thought the world to him was known,
Whereas he only knew the Town:
In men this blunder still you find,
All think their little set-Mankind.
Though high renown the youth had gained,
No flagrant crimes his life had stain'd;
No tool of falsehood, slave of passion,
But spoilt by CUSTOM, and the FASHION.
Though known among a certain set,
He did not like to be in debt;

He shudder'd at the dicer's box,
Nor thought it very heterodox

That tradesmen should be sometimes paid,
And bargains kept as well as made.
His growing credit, as a sinner,

Was that he lik'd to spoil a dinner;
Made pleasure and made business wait,
And still, by system, came too late;
Yet 'twas a hopeful indication,
On which to found a reputation :
Small habits, well pursued betimes,
May reach the dignity of crimes;
And who a juster claim preferr'd,
'han one who always broke his word?
His mornings were not spent in vice,
'was lounging, sauntering, eating ice;
Jalk up and down St. James's-$treet,
ill fifty times the youth you'd meet;
e hated cards, detested drinking,
it stroll'd to shun the toil of thinking;
vas doing nothing was his curse,
there a vice can plague us worse?

The wretch who digs the mine for bread,
Or ploughs that others may be fed,
Feels less fatigue than that decreed,
To him who cannot think, or read.
Not all the peril of temptations,
Not all the conflict of the passions,
Can quench the spark of glory's flame,
Or quite extinguish Virtue's name,
Like the true taste for genuine saunter,
Like sloth, the soul's most dire enchanter
The active fires that stir the breast,
Her poppies charm to fatal rest;
They rule in short and quick succession,
But Sloth keeps one long, fast possession:
Ambition's reign is quickly clos'd,
Th' usurper's rage is soon depos'd;
Intemperance, where there's no temptation,
Makes voluntary abdication :

Of other tyrants short the strife,
But INDOLENCE is king for life.
The despot twists with soft control,
Eternal fetters round the soul.

Yet though so polish'd Florio's breeding
Think him not ignorant of reading;
For he to keep him from the vapours,
Subscrib'd at Hookham's, saw the papers;
Was deep in poet's-corner wit:
Knew what was in Italics writ;
Explain'd fictitious names at will,
Each gutted syllable could fill;
There oft, in paragraphs, his name
Gave symptom sweet of growing fame;
Though yet they only served to hint
That Florio lov'd to see in print
His ample buckles' altered shape,
His buttons chang'd, his varying cape.
And many a standard phrase was his
Might rival bore, or banish quiz;

The man who grasps this young renown,
And early starts for fashion's crown;
In time that glorious prize may wield,
Which clubs, and e'en Newmarket, yield.
He studied while he dress'd, for true 'tis,
He read Compendiums, Extracts, Beauties,
Abrégés, Dictionnaires, Recueils,

Mercures, Journaux, Extraits, and Feuilles :
No work in substance, now is follow'd,
The Chemic Extract only's swallow'd.
He liked those literary cooks

Who skim the cream of others' books;
And ruin half an author's graces,

By plucking bons-mots from their places.
He wonders any writing sells,

But these spiced mushrooms and morels ;
His palate these alone can touch,
Where every mouthful is bonne bouche.
Some phrase that with the public took,
Was all he read of any book;
For plan, detail, arrangement, system,
He let them go, and never miss'd 'em.
Of each new play he saw a part,
And all the Anas had by heart;
He found whatever they produce
Is fit for conversation's use;
Learning so ready for display,

A page would prime him for a day:
They cram not with a mass of knowledge,
Which smacks of toil, and smells of college,
Which in the memory useless lies,

Or only makes men-good and wise.
This might have merit once, indeed,
But now for other ends we read.

A friend he had, Bellario hight,
A reasoning, reading, learned wight;
At least, with men of Florio's breeding,
He was a prodigy of reading.