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HORACE, BOOK II. SAT. VI..
I'VE often with'd that I had clear,
I afk not to increase my store;
But here a grievance feems to lie,
I can't but think 'twould found more clever,
All this is mine but till I die;
To me and to my heirs for ever.
If I ne'er got or loft a groat,
By any trick, or any fault;
As thus, "Vouchfafe, oh gracious Maker!
In fhort, I'm perfectly content,
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend fix months with statesmen here.
It is but fo much more in debt,
And that they ne'er confider'd yet.
“Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,
"Let my Lord know you 're come to town."
I hurry me in haste away,
Not thinking it is levee-day;
And find his honour in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,
Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green :
"I thought the Dean had been too proud,
Another, in a furly fit,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
"So eager to express your love,
"You ne'er confider whom you shove,
"But rudely press before a duke."
I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to fhow
What I defire the world fhould know.
This humbly offers me his cafe That begs my intereft for a place A hundred other mens' affairs, Like bees, are humming in my ears. "To-morrow my apppeal comes on; "Without your help, the cause is gone The duke expects my lord and you, About fome great affair at two — "Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind, "To get my warrant quickly fign'd: "Confider, 'tis my first request.". Be fatisfy'd, I'll do my beft: Then presently he falls to teaze, "You may for certain, if you please; "I doubt not, if his lordfhip knew "And, Mr. Dean, one word from
'Tis (let me fee) three years and more,
(October next it will be four).
Since Harley bid me first attend,
And chofe me for an humble friend;
And question me of this and that;
As, "What's o'clock?" And, "How's the wind?? "Whose chariot 's that we left behind?"
Or gravely try to read the lines.
Writ underneath the country figns;
Or," Have you nothing new to-day
"From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?"
Such tattle often entertains
My lord and me as far as Staines,
As once a week we travel down
Because they see me us'd fo well :
"How think you of our friend the Dean? "I wonder what fome people mean !
My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête à tête;
"What! they admire him for his jokes?
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
“Ah, Doctor, how you love to jeft! ""Tis now no fecret" - I proteft.
"Tis one to me
"Then tell us, pray,
"When are the troops to have their pay?" And, though I folemnly declare
I know no more than my lord mayor,
They ftand amaz'd, and think me grown
Thus in a fea of folly toft,
Sleep, or perufe fome ancient book ;
And there in fweet oblivion drown
Thofe cares that haunt the court and town
THE AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF. 1713.
[A few of the firft lines are wanting.]
A crazy prelate †, and a royal prude ↑;
See the reft of this fatire among Mr. Pope's poems. + Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York.