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"Tis such a bounty as was never knowo,
Welę, if it be my time to quit the flage,
The poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flanies,
Nor the vain itch e’adnire, or be admir’d;
I hop'd for no commission from his Grace;
Had no new verses, nor new suit to ihow;
Bue, as the fool that in reforming days
As vain, as idle, and as false, as they
Who live at court, for going once that way!
Where all ebe race of repriles might embark:
One, whom the niob, when next we find or make
A popish plot, shall for a Jesuit cake,
Such was the wight : th' apparel on his back,
was black :
The lands are bought; but where are to be found Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess,
So tinae, chat changes all things, had ordain'd!
This thing has travellid; and speaks language
too, Some beasts were kill'd, though not whole heca And knows what's fit for every state to do ; tombs;
Of whose belt phrase and courtly accent join'd,
l'alkers I've learn'd co bear; Morteux I knew,
Thus much I've said, I trust, without offence; These I could bear; but not a rogue so civil,
Make Scots speak creason, cozen subtlest whores,
With royal favourites in flattery vic,
He past it o'er; affects an cafy smile And Oldmixon and Burnet both outlie.
At all my peevishness, and curns his style. He spies me out; I whisper, Gracious God! He asks,“ What news!" I tell him of new plays, What sin of mine could merit such a rod?
New eunuchs, harlequins, and operas. That all the shot of dulness now muit be
He hears, and as a still with simples in it, From this thy blunderbufs discharg'd on me! Between each drop it gives, stays half a minute, Permit (he cries) no stranger to your fame Loth to enrich me with too quick replies, To crave your sentiment, if 's your name, By litele, and by little, drops his lics. (shows, What speech eftçem you most? “ The king's," Mere household tralh : of birthnights, balls, and said T.
More than ten Hollinsheds, or Halls, or Stows, But the best words ?-O Şir, the dictionary.". When the queen frown'd, or smild, he knows; and You miss my aim! I mean the most acute
what And perfect speaker ?--"Onslow, pait dispute.” A subtle minister may make of that : But, Sir, of writers ? “ Swift, for closer ftyle, Who fins with whom : who got his pension rug, ..." But Hoadly for a period of a mile.'
Or quicken'd a reversion by a drug : Why yes, 'tis granted, these indeed may pass : Whose place is quarter'd out, three parts in four, Good common linguists, and so Papurge was; And whether to a bishop, or a whore : Nay troth th'apostles (though perhaps too rough) Who, having lost his credit, pawn'd his rent, Had once a pretty gift of congues enough :
Is therefore fit to have a government : Yet these were all poor gentlemen! I dare Who, in the secret, deals in stocks secure, Affirm, 'twas travel made them what they were. And cheats th’unknowing widow and the poor :
Thus, others talents having nicely shown, Who makes a trust of charity a job, He came by sure transition to his own :
And gets an act of parliament to rob : Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself so able, Why turnpikes rise, and now no cic nor clown Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel; Cao gratis see the country, or the towa: For had they found a linguilt half so good, Shortly no lad shall chuck, or lady vole, I make no question but the tower had stood. But some excising courtier will have toll.
“ Obliging Sir! for courts you sure were made : He tells what itrumpet places sells for life, “ Wby then for ever bury'd in the shade?
What 'squire his lands, what citizen his wife : Spirits like you, should see and should be seen, At last (which proves him wiser still than all) “ The king would smile on you—at lcast the What lady's face is not a whited wall. “ queen."
As one of Woodward's patients, fick, and sore, Ah, gentle Sir! you courtiers so cajole us I puke, I nauseate,-yet he thrusts in more : But Tully has it, “ Nunquam minus folus." Trims Europe's balance, tops the statesman's part, And as for courts, forgive me, if I say
And talks gazettes and postboys o'er by heart. No lessons now are taught the Spartan way : Like a big wife at sight of lothsome meat Though in his pi&ures lust be full display'd, Ready to cast, 1 yawn, I sigh, and sweat. Few are the converts Aretine has made;
Then as a licens'd spy, whom nothing can And though the court show vice exceeding clear, Silence or hurt, he libels every man; None should, by my advice, learn virtue there. Swears every place entailid for years to come,
At this entranc'd, he lifts his hands and eyes, In fure succession to the day of doom : Squeaks like a high stretch'd lutestring, andreplies: He games the price for every office paid, con, 'tis che sweetest of all earthly things And says our wars thrive ill, because delay'd; "To gaze on princes, and to talk of kings !" Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the court, Then, happy man who shows the tombs! said !, That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's ftill a port. He dwells ainidst the royal family;
Not more ainazement seiz'd on Circe's guests, He every day from king to king can walk, To see themselves fall headlong into bealts, Of all Harries, all our Edwards talk ;
Than mine to find a subject stay'd and wise And get, by speaking truth of monarchs dead, Already half turn'd traitor by surprise. What few can of the living, case and bread. I felt th’infe&ion slide from him to me; " Lord, Sir, a mere mechanic! Nrangely low, As in the pox, some give it to get free; “ And coarse of phrase, ---your English all are so. And quick to swallow me, methought I saw. “ How elegant your Frenchman!" Mine, d'ye One of our giant statues ope its jaw. mean?
In that nice moment, as another Lyc I have but one ; Į hope the fellow's clean,
Stood just a-cilt, the minister came by: “ Oh! Sir, politely fo! nay, let me dic,
To him he flies, and bows, and bows again, "Your only wearing is your paduasoy.”
Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train. Not, Sir, my only, I have better till,
Not Fannius' self more impudently near, And this you see is but my difhabille
When half his nose is in his prince's ear. Wild to get loose, his patience I provoke,
I quak'd at heart; and, Atill afraid to see Mistake, confound, object at all he spoke.
All the court fill'd with stranger things than he, But as coarse iron, sharpen'd, mangles more, Ran out as fast as one that pays his bail, and itch moft hurts when anger'd to a sore; And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail. Go when you plague a fool, 'tis still the curse, Bear me, some God! oh quickly bear me hence You only make the inatter worse and worse. To wholesome Colitude, the nurse of fence;
Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings, 'Twould burst even Heraclitus with the spleen, And the free soul looks down to pity kings! To see those antics, Fopling and Courtin : There fober thought pursu'd th' amusing theme, The presence secins, with things so richly odd, Till fancy colour'd it, and form'd a dream. The mosque of Mahound, or some queer Pa-god. A vision hermits can to hell transport,
See them survey their limbs by Durer's rules, And forc'd ev'n me to see the damn'd at court. Of all beau-kind the best proportion'd fools Not Dante, dreaming all th' infernal state, Adjust their clothes, and to confeflion draw Beheld such scenes of envy, fin, and hate.
Th se venial lins, an atom, or a straw : Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free; But oh! what terrors must distract the soul Suits tyrants, plunderers, but suits not me: Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole : Shall 1, the terror of this finful town,
Or should one pound of powder less bespread Care, if a livery'd lord or smile or frown? Those monkey tails that wag behind their head! Who cannot flatter, and detest who can,
Thus finish'd, and corrected to a bair, Tremble before a noble Serving man?
They niarch, to prate their hour before the fair, O my fair mistress, Truch! shall I quit thee So first to preach a white-gl v'd chaplain goes, For huffing, braggart, puft nobility?
With band of lily, and with cheek of rose, Thu, who since yesterday halt rollid o'er all Sweeter than Sharon, in immac'late trim, The busy, idle blockheads of the ball,
Neatness itself impertinent in him. Haft thou, oh fun! beheld an emptier sort, Let but the ladies (mile, and they are blest : Than such as swell this bladder of a court ? Prodigious! how the things protest, protest ! Now pox on those who show a court in wax! Peace, fools, or Gonfon will for Papifts seize you, It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs; If once he catch you at your Jesu! Jesu! Such painted puppets : such a varnish'd race Nature made every fop to plague his brother, Of hollow gewgaws, only dress and face ! Just as one beauty mortifies another. Such waxen neles, stately staring things But here's the captain that will plague them botk, No wonder fome folks bow, and think them kings. Whose ais cries arm ! whofe very looks an oath : See! where the British youth, engag'd no The captain's honest, Sirs, and that's enough, more,
Though his foul's bullet, and his body buff. At Fig's at White's, with felons, or a whore, He spits fore-right; his haughty chest before, Pay their last duty to the court, and come Like battering rams, beats open every door : All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room ; And with a face as red, and as awry, In hues as gay, and odours as divine,
As Herod's hangdogs in old tapestry, As the fair fields they sold to look so fine,
Scarecrow to boys, the breeding woman's curse, ." That's velvet for a king !" the flatterer swears; Has yet a strange ambition to look worse : 'Tis true, for ten days hence 'twill be King Lear's. Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe, Our court may justly to our stage give rules, Jets like a licens'd fool, commands like law. That helps it both to fool's-coats and to fools. Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it fo And why not players strut in courtiers clothes? As men from jails to execution go; For these are adors too, as well as those : For hung with deadly fins I see the wall, Wants reach all states : they beg but better drett, And lin'd with giants deadlier than them all : And all is splendid poverty at best.
Each man an askapart, of Irength to toss Painted for fight, and essenc'd for the smell, For quoirs, both Temple-bar and Charing.cross. Like frigates fraught with spice and cuchincal, Scar'd at the grizly forms, i sweat, i fly, Sail in the ladies : how each pirate eyes
And Make all o'er, like a discover'd spy. So weak a vessel, and so rich a prize!
Courts are too much for wits so weak as ming: Top-gallant he, and the in all her trim,
Charge them with Heaven's artillery, bold diHe boarding her, the striking fail to him :
vine! * Dear Countess: you have charms all heart to From such alope the great rebukes endnre, * hit!”
Whose satire's sacred, and whose rage secure : And “Sweet Sir Fopling! you have so much 'Tis mine to wash a few light stains ; but theirs “ wit!"
To deluge sin, and drown a court in lears. Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for nought, Howe'er, what's now Apocrypha, my wit, For both the beauty and the wit are bought. In time to come, may pass for holy writ.
EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES.
IN TWO DIALOGUES.
WRITTEN IN 1738.
Would he oblige me! let me only find,
He does not think me what he thinks mankind.
Come, come, at all I laugh he laughs, no doubt; Fr. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, The only difference is, I dare laugh out. And when it comes, the court fee nothing in't. f. Why yes : with scripture till you may be You grow correct, that once with sapture writ,
free; And are, besides, too moral for a wit,
A horse-laugh, if you please, at honesty; Decay of parts, alas! we all muft feel
A joke on Jekyll, or fome odd old Whig, Why now, this moment, don't I see you Real ! Who never chang'd his principle, of wig; 40 "Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye A patriot is a fool in every age, Said. “ Tories cali'd him Whig, and Whigs a
Whom all Lord Chamberlains allow the flage:
Thele nothing hurts; they keep their fashion fill, And taught his Romans, in much better metre, And wear their strange old virtue, as they will. * To laugh at fools who put their trust in Peter." If any ask you,
" Who's the man, so near But Horace, Sir, was delicate, was nice; “ His prince, that writes in verse, and has his Bubo observes, he laih'd no fort of vice :
** ear?" :
But were his verses vile, his whisper bale,
Laugh then at any, but at fools or foes ; Could please at court, and make Augustus (mile : These you but anger, and you mend nor chose. An artful manager, that crepe between 21 Langh at your friends, and if your friends are sore, His friend and shame, and was a kind of screen. So much the better, you may laugh the more. Lut 'faith your very friends will soon be fore; To vice and fully to confine the jest, Patriots there are, who wish you'd jest no more Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest; And where's the glory? 'will be only thought
Did not the sneer of more impartial men The great nian never offer'd you a groat. .'
At sense and virtue balance all again. - 60 Go see Sir Robert
Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule,
And charitably. comfort knave and fool.
P. Dear Sir, forgive the prejudice of youth: Seca him I have, but in lis happier hour
Adieu distinction, facire, warmth, and truth! Of social pleasure, ill-exchang'd for power ; 30 Come, harmless characters that no one hit; Seen hiin, uncumber'd with a venal tribe, Come, Henley's oratory, Osborn's wit! Smile without art, and win without a bribc. The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue,
The flowers of Bubo, and the finw of Young !
*The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence, VARIATIONS.
And all the well-whipp'd cream of courtly sense, Alter ver. 2, in the MS.
That first was H-vy's, F-'s next, and then, 75 You don't; I hope, pretend to quit the trade, The S-te's, and then H-vy's once agen. Because
come, that casy Ciceronian style, Like good Sir Faul, of whom so much was said, So Latin, yet so English all the while, That when his nanie was up, he lay a bed. As, though the pride of Middleton and Bland, Come, come, refresh us with a livelier song, All boys may read, and girls may understand? Or, like Sir Paul, you'll lie a bed too long. Then might I fing, without the least offence, P. Sir, what I write, íhould be correcily writ. And all I sung should be the nation's fenfe; 1. Correct ! 'is what no genius can adnit. Or teach the melancholy muse to mourn,
And hail her passage to the realms of rest, Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king,
Vice is undone, if the forgets her birth,
And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth: And let, a God's name, every fool and knave But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore; Be grae'd through life, and flatter'd in his grave. Let greatness own her, and she's mean to more,
F. Why so ? if facire knows its cime and place, Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess, You ftill may lash the greateft-in disgrace : Chalte matrons praise her and grave bishops bless; For merit will by turns forsake them all;
To golden chains the willing world fie draws, Would you know when ? exactly when they fall.. And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws; But let all facire in all changes spare
91 Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, Immortal S-k, and grave Dese.
And sees pale virtue carted in her stead. 150 Silent and foft, as faints remov'd to heaven, Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, All ties diffolv'd, and every sin forgiven, Old England's genius, rough with many a Icar, These may some gentle minifterial Wing
Dragg') in the dust! his arms hang idly round, Receive, and place for ever near a king? (port, His fag inverted trails along the ground! There, where no paffion, pride, or shame trans-Qur youth, alt livery'd o'er with foreign gold, Lullid with the sweet Nepenthe of a court; Before her dance : behind her, crawl the old ! There, where no father's, brother's, friend's dif- Sec thronging millions to the pagod run, grace
[place: And offer country, patent, wife, or son: (claim, Once break their rest, or air them from their | Hear her black trumpet through the land proa But pas the sense of human miseries,
That Not to be corrupted is tbe foome.
160 All tears are wip'd for ever from all eyes; In foldier, churchman, patriot, man in power, No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb, 'Tis avarice all, ambition is no more! Šave when they lose a question, or a job,
See, all our nobles begging to be llaves ! P. Good Heaven forbid, that I fhould blast See, all our fools aspiring to be knaves! their glory,
The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,
At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the law: Considering what a gracious prince was next. While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry-Have I, io filent wonder seen such things
“ Nothing is sacred now but villany." 17 As pride in flaves, and avarice in kings;
Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain) And at a peer, or peerefs, shall I sret,
Show there was one who hold it in disdain.
Ér.'Tis all a libel-Paxton (şir) will fay.
How should I fret to mangle every line, Is it for Bond, or Peter, (palery things?)
In reverence to the fins of thirty-nine! To pay their debıs; or keep their faith, like kings? | Yice with such giant-ftrides comes on amairi, Jf Blount dispatch'd himself, he play d the man; Invention strives to be before in vain; And so mayit thou, illustrious Pareran:
Feign what I will, and paint it e'er lo strong, Bat shall a printer, weary of his life, (wife? Some rifing genius fins up to my forg. Learn, from their books, to hang hinofelf and
F. Yet none but you by name che gui'cy lash; This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear;
Even Guthry faves half Newgate by a dalhi. Vice thus abus'd, demands a nation's care : This calls the church co deprecate our sin,
Spare then the person, and expose the vice. And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin.
P. How, Sir! not damn the sharper, but the
dice? Let modeft Porter, if he will, excell
Come on then, fatire ! general, unconfin'd, Ten metropolitans in preaching well;
Spread thy broad wing, and louse on all the kind. A fimple Quaker, or a Quaker's wise,
Ye statelinen, priests, of one religion all: Outdo Lan caffe in doctrine,-yea in life :
Ye tradesmen, vile in army, court, or hall! Let humble Allen, wiib an aukward Thame,
Ye reverend Atheists. F. Scandal! name them, Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame;
Who? Virtue may choose the high or low degrees
P. Why that's the thing you bid me n t to do. 'I is just ahke to virtue, and to me;
Who starv'd a filter, who forelwore a debe,
I never nam'd; the town's inqairing yet,
The poisoning dame-F. You mean-P. I don't
F. You do.
P. See, now I keep the secret, and not you!