What aim'ft thou at, and whither tends thy care,
In what thy utmoft good? Delicious fare;
And, then, to fun thyself in open air.

Hold, hold; are all thy empty wishes fuch?
A good old woman would have faid as much.
But thou art nobly born, 'tis true; go boast
Thy pedigree, the thing thou valu'ft moft:
Befides, thou art a beau: what's that, my child?
A fop well dreft, extravagant, and wild :
She, that cries herbs, has lefs impertinence;
And, in her calling, more of common fenfe.
None, none defcends into himself, to find
The fecret imperfections of his mind :
But every one is eagle-ey'd, to fee
Another's faults, and his deformity.

Say, doft thou know Vectidius? Who, the wretch
Whofe lands beyond the Sabines largely ftretch ;
Cover the country, that a failing kite

Can fcarce o'er-fly them, in a day and night;
Him doft thou mean, who, fpight of all his store,
Is ever craving, and will still be poor?

Who cheats for half-pence, and who doffs his coat,
To fave a farthing in a ferry-boat?

Ever a glutton at another's coft,

But in whofe kitchen dwells perpetual frost?
Who eats and drinks with his domeftic flaves;
A verier hind than any of his knaves?

Born with the curfe and anger of the Gods,
And that indulgent genius he defrauds ?

}

At harveft-home, and on the sheering-day,
When he should thanks to Pan and Pales pay,
And better Ceres; trembling to approach
The little barrel, which he fears to broach:
He 'fays the wimble, often draws it back,
And deals to thirsty servants but a smack.
To a fhort meal he makes a tedious grace,
Before the barley-pudding comes in place :
Then, bids fall on; himself, for faving charges,
A peel'd flic'd onion eats, and tipples verjuice.
Thus fares the drudge : but thou, whofe life's a dream
Of lazy pleasures, tak'ft a worse extreme.
'Tis all thy business, bufinefs how to shun;
To bask thy naked body in the fun;

Suppling thy ftiffen'd joints with fragrant oil:
Then, in the fpacious garden, walk a while,
To fuck the moisture up, and foak it in:

And this, thou think'ft, but vainkly think?ft, unseen.
But, know, thou art obferv'd: and there are thofe
Who, if they durft, would all thy fecret fins expofe.
The depilation of thy modeft part:

Thy catamite, the darling of thy heart,
His engine-hand, and every lewder art.
When, prone to bear, and patient to receive,

Thou tak ft the pleasure which thou canst not give.
With odorous oil thy head and hair are fleek;
And then thou kemb'ft the tuzzes on thy cheek:
Of thefe thy barbers take a costly care,
While thy falt tail is overgrown with hair.

}

: Not

Not all thy pincers, nor unmanly arts,

Can fmooth the roughness of thy shameful parts.
Not five, the strongest that the Circus breeds,
From the rank foil can root those wicked weeds:
Though fuppled first with soap, to ease thy pain,
The stubborn fern fprings up, and sprouts again.
Thus others we with defamations wound,
While they ftab us; and fo the jeft goes round.
Vain are thy hopes, to 'fcape cenforious eyes;
Truth will appear through all the thin disguise:
Thou haft an ulcer which no leech can heal,
Though thy broad fhoulder-belt the wound conceal.
Say thou art found and hale in every part,
We know, we know thee rotten at thy heart,
We know thee fullen, impotent, and proud:

Nor canft thou cheat thy nerve, who cheat'st the croud.
But when they praise me, in the neighbourhood,
When the pleas'd people take me for a God,
Shall I refufe their incenfe? Not receive
The loud applaufes which the vulgar give?
If thou doft wealth, with longing eyes, behold;
And, greedily, art gaping after gold;
If fome alluring girl, in gliding by,
Shall tip the wink, with a lafcivious eye,
And thou with a confenting glance, reply;
If thou thy own folicitor become,
And bid'ft arife the lumpish pendulum :
If thy lewd luft provokes an empty storm,
And prompts to more than nature can perform;

}

If, with thy guards, thou scour'st the streets by night,
And doft in murders, rapes, and spoils delight;
Please not thyfelf, the flattering crowd to hear;
'Tis fulfome stuff to feed thy itching ear.
Reject the naufeous praises of the times:
Give thy bafe poets back thy cobbled rhimes:
Survey thy foul, not what thou dost appear,
But what thou art; and find the beggar there. /29.

THE

THE

FIFTH SA. TIRE

O F

PERSIU ER SI U S.

ARGU. ME N T.

THE judicious Cafaubon, in his proem to this fatire, tells us, that Ariftophanes the grammarian being asked, what poem of Archilochus's Iambics he preferred before the reft; anfwered, the longest. His answer may justly be applied to this fifth satire; which, being of a greater length than any of the reft, is alfo, by far, the most inftructive: for this reafon I have felected it from all the others, and infcribed it to my learned mafter, Doctor Bulby; to whom I am not only obliged myself for the best part of my own education, and that of my two fons; but have alfo received from him the firft and truest taste of Perfius. May he be pleased to find in this tranflation, the gratitude, or at leaft fome small acknowledgment of his unworthy fcholar, at the