Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ENVY AND FORTUNE; A TALE, by EDWARD MOORE (1712-1757)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ENVY AND FORTUNE; A TALE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Says envy to fortune 'soft, soft, madame flirt!'
Last Line: And garrick next season will certainly burst her.
Subject(s): Envy; Fortune; Marriage; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


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've shown 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 all owing to you:
But why won't you make me 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 fools;
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 married, 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 'twas 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't 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 business 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 hurried 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 t'other,
Now knocking at one door, and then at another.
The girls curtsied low as she look'd in their faces,
And bridled and primm'd with abundance of graces;
But this was coquettish, and that was a prude;
One stupid and dull, t' 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 fatigued, 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, cried, 'Well may you wonder
To see me thus flurried'—then told her the ease,
And sigh'd till her ladyship laugh'd in her face.
'Mighty civil indeed!'—'Come, a truce, (says my lady)
A truce with complaints, and perhaps I may aid ye,
I'll show you a girl that—(Here, Martin, go tell—
But she's gone to undress; by and by is as well)—
I'll show 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 'twas her he would choose;
What methods he tried and what arts to prevail,
All these, were they told, would but burden my tale—
In short, all affairs were so happily carried,
That hardly six weeks pass'd away till they married.
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.





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