Parents, when fondess, or the fashion sway,
Will breed their child themselves, the modern way:
No pedant schemes, that abject minds controul,
Shou'd thwart the native freedom of his soul:
Him their own eye o'erlooks, own modes refine,
And master's powder'd ev'ry day to dine.
As for his pretty head, mamma takes care
The comb's well fix'd, and nicely curl'd the hair,
And not one thing, I'll warrant you, breeds there.
E'en let the dirty boys, so doom'd, be fools,
And walk thro' thick and thin to crowded schools,
Lest such rude noise shou'd hurt his tender brain,
In his own hall Sir Timothy they train.
Moll tells him stories while she sweeps the room,
And he imbibes his morals from the groom.
At twelve years old the sprightly youth is able
To turn a pancake, or dry-rub a table.
Soon as the clerk has taught him all he can,
They send to London for some abler man.
Down comes a Frenchman: Sire, me swear and vow,
Me be surpriz'd you make no better bow:
But will make you un brave scholar, no fear,
Better den my own self, in two, tree year.
The knight begins, and in a literal sense,
Turns French to English, and makes Latin French.
Three years my lady mother has the joy
To hear the Frenchman and to see the boy;
To her it is a comfort (above all)
That Tim should learn so fast, and grow so tall.
Kitty, my lady's waiting maid, was sister
To Tom the groom, who knew the knight had kiss'd her;
Tom manages his knight at such a rate,
He beats the Frenchman, and he marries Kate.
So fondly the wise mother lov'd the child,
She quite undid him, lest he shou'd be spoil'd.