This proverb is allow'd by all,
That lofty pride will have a fall.

What dire calamities await
(Proceeding from sly foes)
The man who never shew'd his hate
When dress'd in his new clothes.

William exerted all his care, in
Learning to be a Fop;
As girls of twelve most studious are, in
Learning to twirl a mop.

He tried to deck himself a beau;
This pleasing view ne'er flags;
But Fortune cruelly said 'No;'
Then threaten'd him with rags.

Attention, and a smiling trade,
However, came in view;
Frugality unites her aid,
With Snip the taylor's too.

A suit of claret, fine as ever,
Rose from a taylor's goose;
The lining white, the buttons clever;
What beau could finer use?

The button-holes, we will impart,
Were wrought with silver all;
Design'd to catch a lady's heart:
Whoever sees must fall.

To church, on Sunday morning, he,
Fine as a pink in May,
Or sipping butterfly could be,
Went forth to kill and pray.

Before one street he'd footed quite,
A wicked bird shot flying;
And a warm load of black and white
On his gay suit was lying.

Thus, from the people, sly and vain,
Rich, poor, and young, or older;
William was singl'd out, like Cain,
And mark'd upon the shoulder.

The stain, in wiping, spread abroad,
Which caus'd a new surprize;
William had rather all the load
Had been in Tobit's eyes.

A brow contracted, it was said,
And sorrow was his portion;
The colour of his coat was fled,
And with it his devotion.