And Parvifol* difcounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.

Poor Swift, with all his loffes vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thoufand pounds in debt,
Takes horse, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at fuch a rate,
He foon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was fo dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read + would hardly let him in.

Said Harley, "Welcome, Reverend Dean!
"What makes your worship look fo lean ?
"Why, fure you won't appear in town
"In that old wig and rufty gown?
"I doubt your heart is fet on pelf
"So much, that you neglect yourself.
"What! I fuppofe, now stocks are high,
"You 've fome good purchase in your eye?
"Or is your money out at use?"

"Truce, good my Lord, I beg a truce," (The Doctor in a paffion cry'd)

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"Your raillery is mifapply'd;

"Experience I have dearly bought;

"You know I am not worth a groat:

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"But you refolv'd to have your jest;

"And 'twas a folly to contest;

"Then, fince you now have done your worst, "Pray leave me where you found me first."

*The Dean's agent, a Frenchman. SWIFT. + The Lord Treasurer's porter.

HORACE,

HORACE, BOOK II. SAT. VI.

I

'VE often wifh'd that I had clear,
For life, fix hundred pounds a-year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace-walk, and half a rood
Of land fet out to plant a wood.
Well, now I have all this and more,

I ask not to increase my store;
But here a grievance feems to lie,

All this is mine but till I die;

'I can't but think 'twould found more clever,

To me and to my heirs for ever.

If I ne'er got or lost a groat,

By any trick, or any fault;

'And if pray by reason's rules,
And not like forty other fools:

'As thus, "Vouchsafe, oh gracious Maker!
"To grant me this and t' other acre:
"Or, if it be thy will and pleasure,
"Direct my plow to find a treasure !"
'But only what my station fits,

And to be kept in my right-wits,
'Preserve, Almighty Providence!
'Juft what you gave me, competence:
And let me in thefe fhades compofe
Something in verse as true as prose ;
'Remov'd from all th' ambitious fcene,
'Nor puff'd by pride, nor funk by fpleen.'

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In fhort, I'm perfectly content,

Let me but live on this fide Trent;

Nor cross the Channel twice a year,

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To fpend fix months with statesmen here.
I muft by all means come to town,
'Tis for the fervice of the crown.
"Lewis, the Dean will be of use,
"Send for him up, take no excufe."
The toil, the danger of the feas,
Great minifters ne'er think of thefe;
Or let it coft five hundred pound,

It is but fo much more in debt,

“Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,

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No matter where the money 's found,

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And that they ne'er confider'd yet.

"Let my Lord know you 're come to town." I hurry me in haste away,

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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 :
How should I thrust myself between ?
Some wag obferves me thus perplex'd,
And, fmiling, whispers to the next,
"I thought the Dean had been too proud,
"To juftle here among a croud!"

Another, in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
"So eager to exprefs your love,
"You ne'er confider whom you

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fhove,

" But

"But rudely press before a duke."
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to fhow
What I defire the world fhould know.

gone

I get a whisper, and withdraw; When twenty fools I never faw Come with petitions fairly penn'd, Defiring I would ftand their friend. 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 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 Then presently he falls to teaze, "You may for certain, if you pleafe; “I doubt not, if his lordship knew "And, Mr. Dean, one word from 'Tis (let me fee) three years and more,

beft:

(October next it will be four)

you

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70.

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Since Harley bid me first attend,

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And chofe me for an humble friend;
Would take me in his coach to chat,

And queftion me of this and that;

As

As, "What's o'clock?” And, "How's the wind?"

"Whose chariot 's that we left behind?”

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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

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My lord and me as far as Staines,

As once a week we travel down
To Windfor, and again to town,
Where all that paffes inter nos
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross.
Yet fome I know with envy fwell,
Because they see me us'd so well :

"How think you of our friend the Dean?
"I wonder what fome people mean!
"My lord and he are grown fo great,
"Always together, téte à tête ;

"What! they admire him for his jokes?
"See but the fortune of fome folks!"
There flies about a strange report
Of fome exprefs arriv'd at court:
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in every street.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
"Inform us, will the Emperor treat?
"Or do the prints and papers lie?"

--

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Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.

"Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest !

"'Tis now no fecret" — I protest