Not love of beauty less the heart inflames
Of guardian eunuchs to the Sultan's dames,
Their passions not more impotent and cold
Than those of poets to the lust of gold.
With Pean's purest fire his fav'rites glow,
The dregs will serve to ripen ore below;
His meanest work; for had he thought it fit
That wealth should be the appendage of wit,
The God of Light could ne'er have been so blind
To deal it to the worst of human-kind.

But let me now, for I can do it well,
Your conduct in this new employ foretel.
And, first; to make my observation right
I place a statesman full before my sight,
A bloated minister in all his geer,
With shameless visage and perfidious leer;
Two rows of teeth arm each devouring jaw,
And ostrich-like his all digesting-maw.
My fancy drags this monster to my view,
To shew the world his chief reverse in you,
Of loud unmeaning sounds a rapid flood

20

25

30

35

Rolls from his mouth in plenteous streams of mud,40
With these the court and senate-house he plies,
Made up of noise, and impudence, and lies.
Now let me shew how Bob. and you agree;

You serve a potent prince as well as he.
The ducal coffers, trusted to your charge,
Your honest care may fill, perhaps enlarge:
His vassals easy, and the owner blest,
They pay a trifle, and enjoy the rest.
Volume III.

H

45

Not so a nation's revenues are paid;

The servant's faults are on the master laid:
The people with a sigh their taxes bring,
And cursing Bob. forget to bless the king.

50

Next hearken, Gay, to what thy charge requires With servants, tenants, and the neighb'ring 'squires. Let all domestics feel your gentle sway,

55

Nor bribe, insult, nor flatter, nor betray:

Let due reward to merit be allow'd,

Nor with your kindred half the palace crowd;
Nor think yourself secure in doing wrong,

By telling noses with a party strong.

60

65

Be rich; but of your wealth make no parade,
At least before your master's debts are paid;
Nor in a palace, built with charge immense,
Presume to treat him at his own expense.
Each farmer in the neighbourhood can count
To what your lawful perquisites amount:
The tenants poor, the hardness of the times,
Are ill excuses for a servant's crimes.
With int'rest, and a premium paid beside,
The master's pressing wants must be supply'd: 70
With hasty zeal behold the steward come
By his own credit to advance the sum,

Who, while th' unrighteous Mammon is his friend,
May well conclude his pow'r will never end.
A faithful treas'rer! what could he do more? 75
He lends my lord what was my lord's before.

The law so strictly guards the monarch's health, That no physician dares prescribe by stealth:

The council sit, approve the doctor's skill,
And give advice before he gives the pill :
But the state-emp'ric acts a safer part,
And while he poisons wins the royal heart.
But how can I describe the rav'nous breed?
Then let me now by negatives proceed.

Suppose your lord a trusty servant send
On weighty bus'ness to some neighb'ring friend,
Presume not, Gay, unless you serve a drone,
To countermand his orders by your own.

80

85

Should some imperious neighbour sink the boats, And drain the fish-ponds while your master dotes, 90 Shall he upon the ducal rights entrench,

Because he brib'd you with a brace of tench?
Nor from your lord his bad condition hide,
To feed his luxury or sooth his pride;
Nor at an under-rate his timber sell,
And with an oath assure him all is well;
Or swear it rotten, and with humbler airs
Request it of him to complete your stairs;
Nor when a mortgage lies on half his lands,
Come with a purse of guineas in your hands.
Have Peter Waters always in your mind;

That rogue of genuine ministerial kind
Can half the peerage by his arts bewitch,
Starve twenty lords to make one scoundrel rich,
And when he gravely has undone a score,
Is humbly pray'd to ruin twenty more.

95

100

105

A dext'rous steward, when his tricks are found, Hush-money sends to all the neighbours round;

His master, unsuspicious of his pranks,

Pays all the cost, and gives the villain thanks: 110
And should a friend attempt to set him right,
His lordship would impute it all to spite;
Would love his fav'rite better than before,
And trust his honesty just so much more.
Thus families, like realms, with equal fate
Are sunk by premier ministers of state.

Some, when an heir succeeds, go boldly on,
And as they robb'd the father rob the son.
A knave who deep embroils his lord's affairs
Will soon grow necessary to his heirs.
His policy consists in setting traps,

In finding ways and means, and stopping gaps:
He knows a thousand tricks whene'er he please,
Tho' not to cure yet palliate each disease.
In either case an equal chance is run,

For, keep or turn him out, my lord's undone.
You want a hand to clear a filthy sink;
No cleanly workman can endure the stink.
A strong dilemma in a desp'rate case!
To act with infamy, or quit the place.

A bungler thus, who scarce the nail can hit,
With driving wrong will make the pannel split;
Nor dares an abler workman undertake

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120

125

130

135

To drive a second, lest the whole should break.
In ev'ry court the parallel will hold,
And kings, like private folks, are bought and sold.
The ruling rogue, who dreads to be cashier'd,
Contrives, as he is hated, to be fear'd,

Confounds accounts, perplexes all affairs,
For vengeance more embroils than skill repairs: 140
So robbers, (and their ends are just the same)
To 'scape inquiries, leave the house in flame.
I knew a brazen minister of state

145

Who bore for twice ten years the public hate:
In ev'ry mouth the question most in vogue
Was, When will they turn out this odious rogue ?
A juncture happen'd in his highest pride;
While he went robbing on, old master dy'd:
We thought there now remain'd no room to doubt;
His work is done, the minister is out.

The court invited more than one or two;
Will you, Sir Spencer? or will you? or you?
But not a soul his office durst accept;
The subtle knave had all the plunder swept :
And such was then the temper of the times,
He ow'd his preservation to his crimes.
The candidates observ'd his dirty paws,
Nor found it difficult to guess the cause;

150

155

But when they smelt such foul corruption round him,
Away they fled, and left him as they found him. 160-
Thus when a greedy sloven once has thrown
His snot into the mess, 'tis all his own.

162

A LETTER TO DR. HELSHAM.

SIR,

Nov. 23. 1731, at night. WHEN I left you, I found myself of the grape's juice sick;

I'm so full of pity, I never abuse sick;