There (thank my stars) my whole commiffion ends, 60 65 Fir'd that the house reject him, "'Sdeath I'll print it, "And fhame the fools-Your intereft, Sir, with Lintot." Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much : "Not, Sir, if you revife it, and retouch." All my demurs but double his attacks: At laft he whispers, "Do; and we go fnacks." Glad of a quarrel, ftrait I clap the door, "Sir, let me fee your works and you no more." 'Tis fung, when Midas' ears began to spring, (Midas, a facred perfon and a King) His very Minister, who spy'd them first, (Some fay his Queen) was forc'd to speak, or burst. And is not mine, my friend, a forer case, When every coxcomb perks them in my face? 70 A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in dangerous things, You think this cruel? Take it for a rule, No creature fmarts fo little as a fool. 80 Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break, 85 Thou unconcern'd canst hear the mighty crack: VARIATION. Ver. 60. in the former Ed. Cibber and I are luckily no friends. Pit, 90 Pit, box, and gallery, in convulfions hurl'd, 95 100 Still Sappho-A. Hold; for God's fake-you'll offend, No names-be calm-learn prudence of a friend: I too could write, and I am twice as tall; But foes like thefe-P. One Flatterer's worse than all. Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right, It is the flaver kills, and not the bite. Ver. 111. in the MS. VARIATION. For fong, for filence fome expect a bribe: 105 ΠΙΟ This This prints my Letters, that expects a bribe, 115 120 There are, who to my perfon pay their court: I cough like Horáce, and, though lean, am short. Ammon's great fon one fhoulder had too high, Such Ovid's nofe, and, "Sir! you have an Eye!"Go on, obliging creatures, make me fee All that difgrac'd my Betters, met in me. Say for my comfort, languifhing in bed, <6 Juft fo immortal Maro held his head;" And when I die, be fure you let me know Great Homer dy'd three thousand years ago. Why did I write? what fin to me unknowh Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lifp'd in numbers, for the numbers came. I left no calling for this idle trade, No duty broke, no father disobey'd: 123 130 The VARIATIONS. Time, praife, or money, is the leaft they crave; After ver. 124. in the MS. But, friend, this fhape, which You and Curll a admire, a Curll fet up his head for a fign. b His Father was crooked. His Mother was much afflicted with headachs. The Mufe but ferv'd to eafe fome friend, not Wife, But why then publifh? Granville the polite, And St. John's felf (great Dryden's friends before) 135 14.0 From these the world will judge of men and books, 145 150 Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret ; I never answer'd, I was not in debt. If want provok'd, or madness made them print, 155 Did fome more fober Critic come abroad; If wrong, I fmil'd; if right, I kifs'd the rod. Pains, reading, study, are their juft pretence, And all they want is fpirit, tafte, and sense._ 160 Commas Commas and points they fet exactly right, And 'twere a fin to rob them of their mite. Of hairs, or ftraws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! 170 Were others angry: I excus'd them too; Well might they rage, I gave them but their due. 175 180 And ftrains from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year; It is not poetry, but profe run mad: All these, my modeft Satire bad tranflate, And own'd that nine fuch Poets made a Tate. 190 How |