"So poignant a mind in a vulgariz'd shell,/ Resembles a bucket of gold in a well; / 'Tis like Ceylon's best spice in a rude-fashion'd jar, / Or Comedy coop'd in a Dutch man of war."
— Williams, John [pseud. Anthony Pasquin] (1754-1818)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
J. Strahan, W. Creech, J. Potts, P. Byrne, and the Author
Date
1786, 1787, 1788; 1789
Metaphor
"So poignant a mind in a vulgariz'd shell,/ Resembles a bucket of gold in a well; / 'Tis like Ceylon's best spice in a rude-fashion'd jar, / Or Comedy coop'd in a Dutch man of war."
Metaphor in Context
Mrs. WEBB.
Like a lusty old Sybil, who rambles elate,
With a raven-ton'd voice, to anticipate Fate;
Mark Webb, like a whale, bear her fatness before her,
As the sprats of the Drama for mercy implore her;
Her high-garnish'd phiz give young Pleasantries birth,
And her well-fed abdomen's a mountain of mirth:
See the coarse-hewn old Dowager's mix'd with the rest,
Like a piece of brown dowlas near lace from Trieste;
And darts her huge beak for the prizes and pickings,
As an overgrown hen amidst delicate chickens:
Impertinent Doubts run to measure her size,
While Temperance looks at her frame with surprise.
Her airs are as harsh as a Brighthelmstone dipper,
And loosely assum'd like a pantaloon's slipper;
Tho' base without force, like the oath of a harlot,
Or the impudent grin of a shoulder-deck'd varlet.--
This mould of the fair sex is true female stuff,
And warm at the heart, tho' her--manners are rough:
Like Queen Bess she disdains the resistance of man,
And knocks down a peer with the end of her fan;
Old Care knits his brows to coerce and impale her,
And eyes her with hatred, but dare not assail her.
For social contumely cares not a fig,
For if none call her great, all the world swears she's big.
She's a beef-lin'd adherent to thundering Rage,
And a prop of vast import to Wit and the stage;
But Bards have too potently season'd her song,
Which like garlic in soup makes the pottage too strong:
For by playing old furies so apt and so often,
No human device can the habitude soften;
Thus an exotic sapling we frequently see,
When engrafted by Art, become part of the tree.--
So poignant a mind in a vulgariz'd shell,
Resembles a bucket of gold in a well;
'Tis like Ceylon's best spice in a rude-fashion'd jar,
Or Comedy coop'd in a Dutch man of war.
Like a lusty old Sybil, who rambles elate,
With a raven-ton'd voice, to anticipate Fate;
Mark Webb, like a whale, bear her fatness before her,
As the sprats of the Drama for mercy implore her;
Her high-garnish'd phiz give young Pleasantries birth,
And her well-fed abdomen's a mountain of mirth:
See the coarse-hewn old Dowager's mix'd with the rest,
Like a piece of brown dowlas near lace from Trieste;
And darts her huge beak for the prizes and pickings,
As an overgrown hen amidst delicate chickens:
Impertinent Doubts run to measure her size,
While Temperance looks at her frame with surprise.
Her airs are as harsh as a Brighthelmstone dipper,
And loosely assum'd like a pantaloon's slipper;
Tho' base without force, like the oath of a harlot,
Or the impudent grin of a shoulder-deck'd varlet.--
This mould of the fair sex is true female stuff,
And warm at the heart, tho' her--manners are rough:
Like Queen Bess she disdains the resistance of man,
And knocks down a peer with the end of her fan;
Old Care knits his brows to coerce and impale her,
And eyes her with hatred, but dare not assail her.
For social contumely cares not a fig,
For if none call her great, all the world swears she's big.
She's a beef-lin'd adherent to thundering Rage,
And a prop of vast import to Wit and the stage;
But Bards have too potently season'd her song,
Which like garlic in soup makes the pottage too strong:
For by playing old furies so apt and so often,
No human device can the habitude soften;
Thus an exotic sapling we frequently see,
When engrafted by Art, become part of the tree.--
So poignant a mind in a vulgariz'd shell,
Resembles a bucket of gold in a well;
'Tis like Ceylon's best spice in a rude-fashion'd jar,
Or Comedy coop'd in a Dutch man of war.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" and "gold" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Published in parts: the first in 1786, the second in 1787, and the third in 1788. At least 9 entries in ECCO, LION, and ESTC (1786, 1787, 1788, 1789, 1792).
See The Children of Thespis. A Poem. Part First. (London: Printed by Denew and Grant, No 91, Wardour-Street, Soho; and sold by J. Bew; T. Hookman; and R. Jameson, 1786). <Link to ESTC>
And The Children of Thespis. A Poem. By Anthony Pasquin, Esq. Part the Second. (London: Printed by Denew & Grant; and sold by J. Bew; and J. Strahan, 1787). <Link to ESTC>
And The Children of Thespis. A Poem. By Anthony Pasquin, Esq. Part the Third. (London: Printed for J. Strahan, No. 67, near the Adelphi, Strand, 1788). <Link to ESTC>
Text from Poems: By Anthony Pasquin, 2nd ed. (London: Printed for J. Strahan, No. 67, Near the Adelphi, Strand; W. Creech, Edinburgh; J. Potts, and P. Byrne, Dublin; and the author, [London] No. 125, Strand, 1789). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO><Link to Google Books>
See The Children of Thespis. A Poem. Part First. (London: Printed by Denew and Grant, No 91, Wardour-Street, Soho; and sold by J. Bew; T. Hookman; and R. Jameson, 1786). <Link to ESTC>
And The Children of Thespis. A Poem. By Anthony Pasquin, Esq. Part the Second. (London: Printed by Denew & Grant; and sold by J. Bew; and J. Strahan, 1787). <Link to ESTC>
And The Children of Thespis. A Poem. By Anthony Pasquin, Esq. Part the Third. (London: Printed for J. Strahan, No. 67, near the Adelphi, Strand, 1788). <Link to ESTC>
Text from Poems: By Anthony Pasquin, 2nd ed. (London: Printed for J. Strahan, No. 67, Near the Adelphi, Strand; W. Creech, Edinburgh; J. Potts, and P. Byrne, Dublin; and the author, [London] No. 125, Strand, 1789). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO><Link to Google Books>
Theme
Dualism
Date of Entry
05/27/2005
Date of Review
06/20/2011
