EPILOGUE

TO THЕ

S A TIRE S.

IN TWO DIALOGUES.

Written in MDCCXXXVIII.

FR.

NOT

DIALOGUE I.

OT twice a twelvemonth you appear in Print, And when it comes, the Court fee nothing in't. You grow correct, that once with Rapture writ, And are, befides, too moral for a Wit. Decay of Parts, alas! we all must feel

5

Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal? 'Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye Said, "Tories call'd him Whig, and Whigs a Tory;"

VARIATIONS.

After ver. 2. in the MS.

You don't, I hope, pretend to quit the trade,
Because you think your reputation made:
Like good Sir Paul, of whom so much was said,
That when his name was up, he lay a-bed.
Come, come, refresh us with a livelier fong,
Or, like Sir Paul, you'll lie a-bed too long.
P. Sir, what I write, fhould be correctly writ.
F. Correct! 'tis what no genius can admit.
Besides, you grow too moral for a Wit.

And

And taught his Romans, in much better metre,

"To laugh at Fools who put their trust in Peter." TO
But Horace, Sir, was delicate, was nice;
Bubo obferves, he lafh'd no fort of Vice:
Horace would fay, Sir Billy ferv'd the Crown,
Blunt could do Business, Higgins knew the Town;
In Sappho touch the Failings of the Sex,
In reverend Bishops note fome fmall Neglects,
And own the Spaniard did a waggish thing,

Who cropt our Ears, and fent them to the King.
His fly, polite, infinuating style

Could please at Court, and make AUGUSTUS fmile:
An artful Manager, that crept between

His Friend and Shame, and was a kind of Screen.
But 'faith your very Friends will foon be fore
Patriots there are, who wish you'd jeft no more-
And where's the Glory? 'twill be only thought
The Great man never offer'd you a groat.
Go fee Sir ROBERT-

P. See Sir ROBERT!--hum-
And never laugh-for all my life to come?
Seen him I have, but in his happier hour
Of Social Pleasure, ill-exchang'd for Power;
Seen him, uncumber'd with a Venal tribe,
Smile without Art, and win without a Bribe.
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;
The only difference is, I dare laugh out,

25

30

35

F. Why

F. Why yes with Scripture ftill you may be free;
A Horfe-laugh, if you please, at Honefty;

A Joke on JEKYLL, or fome odd Old Whig,
Who never chang'd his Principle, or Wig;
A Patriot is a Fool in every age,

Whom all Lord Chamberlains allow the Stage:
These nothing hurts; they keep their Fashion still,
And wear their strange old Virtue, as they will.

If any afk you, "Who's the Man, fo near

45

sa

"His Prince, that writes in Verfe, and has his ear?"
Why answer LYTTELTON, and I'll engage
The worthy Youth shall ne'er be in a rage:
But were his Verfes vile, his Whisper base:
You'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's cafe.
Sejanus, Wolfey, hurt not honeft FLEURY,
But well may put fome Statesmen in a fury.
Laugh then at any, but at Fools or Foes;
These you but anger, and you mend not thofe.
Laugh at your Friends, and, if your Friends are fore, 55
So much the better, you may laugh the more.

To Vice and Folly to confine the jeft,

Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest;
Did not the Sneer of more impartial men

At Senfe and Virtue balance all again.
Judicious Wits spread wide the Ridicule,
And charitably comfort Knave and Fool.

P. Dear Sir, forgive the Prejudice of Youth:
Adieu Diftinction, Satire, Warmth, and Truth!
Come, harmless Characters that no one hit;
Come, Henley's Oratory, Ofborn's Wit!

U 2

60

65

The

The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue,
The Flowers of Bubo, and the Flow of Young!
The gracious Dew of Pulpit Eloquence,
And all the well-whipt Cream of Courtly Senfe,
That first was H-vy's, F-'s next, and then,
The S-te's, and then H-vy's once agen.
O come, that easy Ciceronian style,

So Latin, yet fo English all the while,

As, though the Pride of Middleton and Bland,
All Boys may read, and Girls may understand!
Then might I fing, without the least offence,
And all I fung should be the Nation's Sense;
Or teach the Melancholy Muse to mourn,
Hang the fad Verfe on CAROLINA's Urn,
And hail her paffage to the Realms of Reft,
All parts perform'd, and all her Children bleft!
So-Satire is no more-I feel it die-

No Gazetteer more innocent than I

And let, a God's name, every Fool and Knave
Be grac'd through Life, and flatter'd in his Grave.
F. Why fo? if Satire knows its Time and Place,
You ftill may lash the greatest-in Difgrace:

For Merit will by turns forsake them all;
Would you know when? exactly when they fall.
But let all Satire in all Changes fpare
Immortal S-k, and grave De-re.
Silent and foft, as Saints remov'd to Heaven,
All Ties diffolv'd, and every Sin forgiven,
These may fome gentle minifterial Wing
Receive, and place for ever near a King!

There,

There, where no Paffion, Pride, or Shame tranfport,
Lull'd with the fweet Nepenthe of a Court,

There, where no Father's, Brother's, Friend's difgrace Once break their reft, or ftir them from their Place:

But past the Sense of human Miseries,

All Tears are wip'd for ever from all eyes ;

No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb,
Save when they lose a Question, or a Job.

P. Good Heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory,
Who know how like Whig Ministers to Tory,
And when three Sovereigns dy'd, could fcarce be vext,
Confidering what a gracious Prince was next.
Have I, in filent wonder, feen fuch things
As Pride in Slaves, and Avarice in Kings;
And at a Peer, or Peeress, shall I fret,
Who ftarves a Sifter, or forfwears a Debt?
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of Vice be loft?

110

Ye Gods! fhall Cibber's Son, without rebuke,

115

Swear like a Lord, or Rich outwhore a Duke?

A Favourite's Porter with his Master vie,

Be brib'd as often, and as often lie?

Shall Ward draw Contracts with a Statesman's skill? Or Japhet pocket, like his Grace, a Will?

Is it for Bond, or Peter, (paltry things)

120

To pay their Debts, or keep their Faith, like Kings?

If

VARIATION.

Ver. 112. in fome editions,

Who starves a Mother