William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Restoration Verse. 1910.
TriflesGeorge Farquhar (1677?1707)
A
Begun with a trifle and ended.
All trifling people draw near,
And I shall be nobly attended.
That lately have come into play;
The men would want something to do,
And the women want something to say.
Because the ladies, they know,
Admire, by often possessing,
That eminent trifle, a Beau.
At White’s half an hour to sit,
Or who could bear a tea-table,
Without talking of trifles for wit?
Gold Keys are no trifles, we see;
White rods are no trifles, I’m sure,
Whatever their bearers may be.
Where trifles abundantly breed,
The Levée will show you his Grace
Makes promises trifles indeed.
I count neither trifle, nor sin;
But, ye gods! how oft do we find
A scandalous trifle within.
A trifle, or something as bad;
But if you’ll contrive how to drink it,
You’ll find it no trifle, egad!
A widow’s a trifle in sorrow;
A peace is a trifle to-day;
Who knows what may happen to-morrow?
Or to hide it, the red may endeavour;
But if once the army is broke,
We shall have more trifles than ever.
The reason, pray carry along;
Because at ev’ry new play,
The house they with trifles so throng.
And to set us all on a foot;
The author of this is a trifle,
And his Song is a trifle to boot.