Soliloquy
,
on
an
empty
Purse
.
Alas
!
my
Purse
!
how
lean
and
low
!
My
silken
Purse
!
what
art
thou
now
!
Once
I
beheld
—
but
stocks
will
fall
—
When
both
thy
Ends
had
wherewithal
.
When
I
within
thy
slender
fence
My
fortune
plac'd
,
and
confidence
;
A
Poet's
fortune
!
—
not
immense
:
Yet
,
mixt
with
keys
,
and
coins
among
,
Chinkt
to
the
melody
of
song
.
Canst
thou
forget
when
,
high
in
air
,
I
saw
thee
flutt'ring
at
a
fair
?
And
took
thee
,
destin'd
to
be
sold
,
My
lawful
Purse
,
to
have
and
hold
?
Yet
us'd
so
oft
to
disembogue
,
No
prudence
could
thy
fate
prorogue
.
Like
wax
thy
silver
melted
down
,
Touch
but
the
brass
,
and
lo
!
'twas
gone
:
And
gold
would
never
with
thee
stay
,
For
gold
had
wings
,
and
flew
away
.
Alas
,
my
Purse
!
yet
still
be
proud
,
For
see
the
Virtues
round
thee
croud
!
See
,
in
the
room
of
paltry
wealth
,
Clam
Temp'rance
rise
,
the
nurse
of
Health
;
And
Self-denial
,
slim
and
spare
,
And
Fortitude
,
with
look
severe
;
And
Abstinence
,
to
leanness
prone
,
And
Patience
worn
to
skin
and
bone
:
Prudence
,
and
Foresight
on
thee
wait
,
And
Poverty
lies
here
in
state
!
Hopeless
her
spirits
to
recruit
,
For
ev'ry
virtue
is
a
mute
.
Well
then
,
my
Purse
,
thy
sabbaths
keep
;
Now
Thou
art
empty
,
I
shall
sleep
.
No
silver
sounds
shall
thee
molest
,
Nor
golden
dreams
disturb
my
breast
.
Safe
shall
I
walk
the
streets
along
,
Amidst
temptations
thick
and
strong
;
Catch'd
by
the
eye
,
no
more
shall
stop
At
Wildey's
toys
,
or
Pinchbeck's
shop
;
Nor
,
cheap'ning
Payne's
ungodly
books
,
Be
drawn
aside
by
pastry
cooks
:
But
fearless
now
we
both
may
go
Where
Ludgate's
Mercers
bow
so
low
;
Beholding
all
with
equal
eye
,
Nor
mov'd
at
—
"
Madam
,
what
d'ye
buy
?
"
Away
,
far
hence
each
worldly
care
!
Nor
dun
,
nor
pick-purse
shalt
Thou
fear
,
Nor
flatt'rer
base
annoy
My
ear
.
Snug
shalt
thou
travel
thro'
the
mob
,
For
who
a
Poet's
purse
will
rob
?
And
softly
sweet
,
in
garret
high
,
Will
I
thy
virtues
magnify
;
Out-soaring
flatt'rers
stinking
breath
,
And
gently
rhyming
rats
to
death
.