The
MIMICK
.
By
the
Rev.
Mr.
PITT
.
THE
Mimick's
ductile
features
claim
my
lays
,
Chang'd
to
a
thousand
shapes
,
a
thousand
ways
:
Who
with
variety
of
arts
puts
on
All
other
persons
,
and
throws
off
his
own
;
Whose
looks
well
disciplin'd
his
will
obey
,
Bloom
at
command
,
or
at
command
decay
:
Nor
blush
,
my
Muse
,
those
changes
to
impart
,
Which
ask
an
Ovid's
or
Apollo's
art
.
But
who
,
Apollo
,
all
the
arts
can
trace
,
All
the
deceits
of
that
delusive
face
?
For
lo
!
in
sight
the
various
artist
comes
;
Lo
!
how
in
beauty
and
in
health
he
blooms
:
Its
smoothest
charms
triumphant
youth
supplies
,
Laughs
in
his
checks
,
and
sparkles
in
his
eyes
.
But
sudden
see
,
the
scene
is
snatch'd
away
,
See
each
inverted
feature
in
decay
;
His
muscles
all
relax'd
,
his
face
o'ergrown
,
Rough
and
emboss'd
with
wrinkles
not
his
own
.
He
trails
his
dangling
legs
:
the
wond'ring
train
Laugh
at
the
solemn
conduct
of
his
cane
;
Rapt
thro'
the
scenes
of
life
,
he
drops
his
prime
;
A
cripple
sixty
years
before
his
time
;
Runs
in
a
moment
all
his
stages
o'er
,
And
steps
from
four-and-twenty
to
fourscore
.
Now
he
a
venerable
judge
appears
,
And
the
long
garb
of
lazy
purple
wears
;
Like
drowsy
P**'s
looks
his
aged
frame
,
His
mien
,
his
habit
,
and
address
the
same
:
When
to
the
sneering
crowd
he
lisps
a
joke
,
Puns
from
the
law
,
or
quibbles
out
of
Coke
;
With
settled
air
,
and
most
judicious
face
,
Nods
o'er
the
cushion
,
counsel
,
and
the
case
;
Slumbers
,
and
hears
by
starts
the
noisy
train
;
Catches
a
period
,
and
drops
down
again
.
And
now
his
hearers
in
their
turn
to
lull
,
Himself
stands
up
most
venerably
dull
;
Talks
of
old
times
;
commends
their
loyal
zeal
,
Their
wholsome
statutes
,
discipline
,
and
ale
;
On
different
themes
bestows
one
common
praise
,
The
Thames
,
the
streets
,
the
king
,
and
king's
highways
.
You
see
him
quit
the
bench
,
and
strait
appear
An
huge
old
gouty
counsel
at
the
bar
;
Bawl
for
his
client
,
wrest
the
tortur'd
laws
From
their
true
sense
,
and
mould
them
to
the
cause
;
In
solemn
form
harangue
the
list'ning
crowd
,
And
hem
and
cough
emphatically
loud
;
Blest
art
indeed
!
and
glorious
eloquence
,
Where
empty
noise
supplies
the
want
of
sense
.
For
meaning
,
signs
,
and
motions
he
affords
,
And
interjections
for
the
want
of
words
.
What
shape
to
you
,
O
S**'s
,
is
unknown
!
What
face
,
but
you
adopt
into
your
own
!
At
the
least
hint
,
fictitious
crowds
you
raise
,
And
multiply
yourself
ten
thousand
ways
:
This
moment
,
to
indulge
the
mirthful
vein
,
A
fool's
or
doctor's
person
you
sustain
;
The
next
resume
yourself
and
sense
again
.
Am
I
deceiv'd
?
or
by
some
sudden
slight
,
A
starch'd
tub-preacher
now
he
strikes
the
sight
,
(
Quick
the
transition
,
and
unseen
the
art
!
)
Pale
and
entirely
chang'd
in
ev'ry
part
,
His
short'ned
visage
,
and
fantastick
dress
,
The
mad
fantastick
to
the
life
express
;
That
small
silk
cap
;
those
puritanick
hairs
,
Crop'd
to
the
quick
,
and
circling
round
his
ears
;
That
rounded
face
the
Mimick
here
proclaim
,
How
very
different
,
yet
how
still
the
same
!
Now
he
,
by
just
degrees
,
his-silence
breaks
;
His
frantick
silence
mutt'ring
ere
he
speaks
:
Protracted
hums
the
solemn
farce
begin
,
And
groans
and
pauses
interrupt
the
scene
;
As
each
in
just
succession
comes
and
goes
,
Work'd
to
its
pitch
,
the
spirit
stronger
grows
,
And
squeezes
out
his
eyes
,
and
twangs
his
vocal
nose
.
Now
quick
and
rapid
,
and
in
rage
more
loud
,
A
storm
of
nonsense
bursts
upon
the
crowd
:
His
hand
and
voice
proclaim
the
gen'ral
doom
,
While
this
the
hour-glass
shakes
,
and
that
the
room
.
On
nature's
ruins
all
his
doctrines
dwell
,
And
throw
wide
open
every
gate
of
hell
.
A
thousand
other
shapes
he
wears
with
grace
;
A
thousand
more
varieties
of
face
:
But
who
,
in
every
shape
,
can
count
him
o'er
,
Who
multiplies
his
person
every
hour
?
What
Muse
his
flying
features
can
pursue
,
Or
keep
his
wand'ring
countenance
in
view
?
Had
I
a
thousand
mouths
,
a
thousand
tongues
,
A
throat
of
brass
,
and
adamantine
lungs
,
I
could
not
celebrate
this
Proteus'
skill
,
Who
shifts
his
person
and
his
face
at
will
;
This
Proteus
,
who
out-numbers
hosts
alone
;
A
crowd
himself
;
a
multitude
in
one
.