Poor Richard, 1738
Poor Richard, 1738. An Almanack For the Year of Christ 1738,
... By Richard Saunders, Philom. Philadelphia: Printed and sold
by B. Franklin, at the New Printing-Office near the Market. (Yale
University Library)
Preface by Mistress Saunders
Dear Readers,
My good Man set out last Week for Potowmack, to
visit an old Stargazer of his Acquaintance, and see about a little
Place for us to settle and end our Days on. He left the Copy of his
Almanack seal’d up, and bid me send it to the Press. I suspected
something, and therefore as soon as he was gone, I open’d it, to
see if he had not been flinging some of his old Skitts at me. Just
as I thought, so it was. And truly, (for want of somewhat else to
say, I suppose) he had put into his Preface, that his Wife Bridget
—was this, and that, and t’other.—What a peasecods! cannot I have a
little Fault or two, but all the Country must see it in print! They
have already been told, at one time that I am proud, another time
that I am loud, and that I have got a new Petticoat, and abundance
of such kind of stuff; and now, forsooth! all the World must know,
that Poor Dick’s Wife has lately taken a fancy to drink a little
Tea now and then. A mighty matter, truly, to make a Song of! ’Tis
true, I had a little Tea of a Present from the Printer last Year;
and what, must a body throw it away? In short, I thought the
Preface was not worth a printing, and so I fairly scratch’d it all
out, and I believe you’ll like our Almanack never the worse for
it.
Upon looking over the Months, I see he has put
in abundance of foul Weather this Year; and therefore I have
scatter’d here and there, where I could find room, some fair,
pleasant, sunshiny, &c. for the Good-Women to dry their
Clothes in. If it does not come to pass according to my Desire, I
have shown my Good-will, however; and I hope they’ll take it in
good part.
I had a Design to make some other Corrections;
and particularly to change some of the Verses that I don’t very
well like; but I have just now unluckily broke my Spectacles; which
obliges me to give it you as it is, and conclude Your loving
Friend,
Bridget Saunders
Lo as a Giant strong, the lusty Sun
Multiply’d Rounds in one great Round doth run.
Twofold his Course, yet constant his Career
Changing the Day and finishing the Year.
Again when his descending Orb retires
And Earth perceives the Absence of his Fires
The Moon affords us her alternate Ray,
And with kind Beams distributes fainter Day.
XI Mon. January hath xxxi days.
Dick’s Wife was sick, and pos’d the Doctor’s, Skill,
Who differ’d how to cure th’inveterate Ill.
Purging the one prescrib’d. No, quoth another,
That will do neither Good nor Harm, my Brother.
Bleeding’s the only Way; ’twas quick reply’d,
That’s certain Death;—But e’en let Dick decide.
Ise no great Skill, quo’ Richard, by the Rood;
But I think Bleeding’s like to do most good.
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There are three faithful friends, an old wife, an old dog,
and |
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Great talkers should be cropt, for they’ve no need of
ears. |
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If you’d have your shoes last, put no nails in ’em. |
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Who has deceiv’d thee so oft as thy self? |
In Christendom we all are Christians now,
And thus I answer, if you ask me how;
Where with Christ’s Rule our Lives will not comply,
We bend it like a Rule of Lead, say I;
Making it thus comply with what we be,
And only thus our Lives with th’ Rule agree.
But from our Fathers we’ve the Name (perchance)
Ay, so our King is call’d the King of France.
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Is there any thing Men take more pains about than to
render |
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Nothing brings more pain than too much pleasure; nothing
more |
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Read much, but not many Books. |
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He that would have a short Lent, let him borrow Money to
be |
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Write with the learned, pronounce with the vulgar. |
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Fly Pleasures, and they’ll follow you. |
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Squirrel-like she covers her back with her tail. |
The old Gentry.
That all from Adam first begun,
Sure none but Whiston doubts,
And that his Son, and his Son’s Son
Were Plowmen, Clowns and Louts;
Here lies the only Difference now,
Some shot off late, some soon;
Your Sires i’ th’ Morning left the Plow,
And ours i’ th’ Afternoon.
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Caesar did not merit the triumphal Car, more than he that
con- |
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Hast thou virtue? acquire also the graces and beauties of
virtue. |
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Buy what thou has no need of; and e’er long thou shalt sell
thy |
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If thou has wit and learning, add to it Wisdom and
Modesty. |
A frugal Thought.
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You may be more happy than Princes, if you will be more
vir- |
If you wou’d not be forgotten
As soon as you are dead and rotten,
Either write things worth reading,
Or do things worth the writing.
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Sell not virtue to purchase wealth, nor Liberty to purchase
power. |
Epitaph on a talkative old Maid.
Beneath this silent Stone is laid,
A noisy antiquated Maid,
Who from her Cradle talk’d ’till Death,
And ne’er before was out of Breath.
Whither she’s gone we cannot tell;
For, if she talks not, she’s in Hell:
If she’s in Heaven, she’s there unblest,
Because she hates a Place of Rest.
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God bless the King, and grant him long to Reign. |
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Let thy vices die before thee. |
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Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut
afterwards. |
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The ancients tell us what is best; but we must learn of the
moderns |
One Month a Lawyer, thou the next wilt be
A grave Physician, and the third a Priest:
Chuse quickly one Profession of the three,
Marry’d to her thou yet may’st court the rest.
Resolve at once; deliberate no more;
Leap in, and stand not shiv’ring on the Shore.
On any one amiss thou can’st not fall:
Thou’lt end in nothing, if thou grasps at all.
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Since I cannot govern my own tongue, tho’ within my own
teeth, |
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’Tis less discredit to abridge petty charges, than to stoop
to petty |
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Since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an
hour. |
While faster than his costive Brain indites
Philo’s quick Hand in flowing Nonsence writes,
His Case appears to me like honest Teague’s,
When he was run away with by his Legs.
Phaebus, give Philo o’er himself Command;
Quicken his Senses, or restrain his Hand;
Let him be kept from Paper, Pen and Ink;
So may he cease to write, and learn to think.
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If you do what you should not, you must hear what you
would |
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Defer not thy well doing; be not like St. George, who is
always |
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Wish not so much to live long as to live well. |
These Lines may be read backward or forward.
Joy, Mirth, Triumph, I do defie;
Destroy me Death, fain would I die:
Forlorn am I, Love is exil’d,
Scorn smiles thereat; Hope is beguil’d;
Men banish’d bliss, in Woe must dwell,
Then Joy, Mirth, Triumph all farewell.
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As we must account for every idle word, so we must for
every |
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I have never seen the Philosopher’s Stone that turns lead
into |
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Never intreat a servant to dwell with thee. |
A Doubtful Meaning:
The Female kind is counted ill:
And is indeed; The contrary;
No Man can find: That hurt they will:
But every where: Shew Charity;
To no Body: Malicious still;
In word or Deed: Believe you me.
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Time is an herb that cures all Diseases. |
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Reading makes a full Man, Meditation a profound Man,
discourse |
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If any man flatters me, I’ll flatter him again; tho’ he
were my |
A Monster in a Course of Vice grown old,
Leaves to his gaping Heir his ill-gain’d Gold;
The Preacher fee’d, strait are his Virtues shown;
And render’d lasting by the sculptur’d Stone.
If on the Stone or Sermon we rely,
Pity a Worth, like his, should ever die!
If Credit to his real Life we give,
Pity a Wretch like him, should ever live.
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Wish a miser long life, and you wish him no good. |
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None but the well bred man knows how to confess a fault,
or |
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Drive thy business; let not that drive thee. |
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There is much difference between imitating a good man,
and |
The Wiseman says, It is a Wiseman’s Part
To keep his Tongue close Prisoner in his Heart.
If he then be a Fool whose Thought denies
There is a God, how desp’rately unwise,
How much more Fool is he whose Language shall
Proclaim in publick, There’s no God at all:
What then are they, nay Fools in what degree
Whose Actions shall maintain ’t? Such Fools are we.
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Wink at small faults; remember thou hast great ones. |
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Eat to please thyself, but dress to please others. |
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Search others for their virtues, thy self for thy
vices. |
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Never spare the Parson’s wine, nor Baker’s Pudding. |
Each year one vicious habit rooted out,
In time might make the worst Man good throughout
Of the Eclipses 1738.
There will be two, and both of the Sun. The First on Feb. 7 at 1 afternoon, hardly visible
here, but a great Eclipse in Brasil, Peru, Paragua and other
southern Countries in America. And to the Astrologers of those
Parts we leave it, to harangue on its terrible Effects.
The other on August 4. A.M. beginning at 4 h 20
m. Middle at 5 h 29 m. End at 6 h. 38 m. Digits Eclipsed 5 and
three quarters on the north or upper Side. They that would see
Phaebus with his Night-cap on this Morning, should be out of Bed
before him to watch his Rising; and perhaps after all may be
disappointed, by his intercepting Window-Curtains.
You will excuse me, dear Readers, that I afford
you no Eclipses of the Moon this Year. The Truth is, I do not find
they do you any Good. When there is one you are apt in observing it
to expose yourselves too much and too long to the Night Air,
whereby great Numbers of you catch Cold. Which was the Case last
Year, to my very great Concern. However, if you will promise to
take more Care of your selves, you shall have a fine one to stare
at, the Year after next.
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