The BAG-WIG and the TOBACCO-PIPE. A FABLE. A Bag-wig of a jauntee air, Trick'd up with all a barber's care, Loaded with powder and perfume, Hung in a spendthrift's dressing-room; Close by its side, by chance convey'd, A black Tobacco-pipe was laid; And with its vapours far and near, Outstunk the essence of Monsieur; At which its rage, the thing of hair, Thus, bristling up, began declare. "Bak'd dirt! that with intrusion rude " Breaks in upon my solitude, "And with thy fetid breath defiles " The air for forty thousand miles — "Avaunt — pollution's in thy touch — " O barb'rous English! horrid Dutch! "I cannot bear it — Here, Sue, Nan, " Go call the maid to call the man, "And bid him come without delay, " To take this odious pipe away. "Hideous! sure some one smoak'd thee, Friend, " Reversely, at his t'other end. "Oh! what mix'd odours! what a throng " Of salt and sour, of stale and strong! "A most unnatural combination, " Enough to mar all perspiration — "Monstrous! again — 'twou'd vex a saint! " Susan, the drops — or else I faint! " The pipe (for 'twas a pipe of soul) Raising himself upon his bole, In smoke, like oracle of old, Did thus his sentiments unfold. "Why, what's the matter, Goodman Swagger, " Thou flaunting French, fantastic bragger? "Whose whole fine speech is (with a pox) " Ridiculous and heterodox. "'Twas better for the English nation " Before such scoundrels came in fashion, "When none sought hair in realms unknown, " But every blockhead bore his own. "Know, puppy, I'm an English pipe, " Deem'd worthy of each Briton's gripe, "Who, with my cloud-compelling aid " Help our plantations and our trade, "And am, when sober and when mellow, " An upright, downright, honest fellow. "Tho' fools, like you, may think me rough, " And scorn me, 'cause I am in buff, "Yet your contempt I glad receive, " 'Tis all the fame that you can give: "None finery or fopp'ry prize; " But they who've something to disguise; "For simple nature hates abuse, " And Plainness is the dress of Use. "