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'Tis- minc to wash a few light stains ; but theirs
To deluge lin, and drown a Court in tears.
Howe'er what's now Apocrypha, my Wit,
In time to come, may pass for Holy Writ.


To wash the stains away: Although I yet
(With Maccabecs modesty) the known merit
Of my work lessen, yet some wise men shall,
I hope, esteem my Writs Canonical.

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DIALOGUE I. FR. OT twice a twelvemonth you appear in Print,

And when it comes, the Court see nothing in't. You grow correct, that once with Rapture writ, And are, besides, 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;"

After ver. 2. in the MS.

You don't, I hope, pretend to quit the trade,


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 song,

Or, like Sir Paul, you'll lie a-bed too long.
P. Sir, what I write, should be correctly writ.
F. Correct ! 'tis what no genius can admit.
Besides, you grow too moral for a Wit.



And taught his Romans, in much better metre,
To laugh at Fools who put their trust in Peter.”

But Horace, Sir, was delicate, was nice;
Bubo observes, he lash'd no sort of Vice :
Horace would say, Sir Billy serv'd the Crown,
Blunt could do Business, Higgins knew the Town;
In Sappho touch the Failings of the Sex,

In reverend Bishops note some small Neglects,
And own the Spaniard did a waggifh thing,
Who cropt our Ears, and sent them to the King.
His fly, polite, infinuating style
Could please at Court, and make AUGUSTU's smile:
An artful Manager, that crept between
His Friend and Shame, and was a kind of Screen.
But 'faith your very Friends will soon be fore;
Patriots there are, who wish you'd jest no more
And where's the Glory? 'twill be only thought 23
The Great man never offer'd you a groat.
Go see 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;

35 The only difference is, I dare laugh out.


F. Why F. Why yes : with Scripture still you may be free; A Horse-laugh, if you please, at Honesty ; A Joke on JEKYLL, or some odd Old Whig, Who never chang’d his Principle, or Wig;

40 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 ask you, “ Who's the Man, so near

45 “ His Prince, that writes in Verse, and has his ear?” Why answer Lyttelton, and I'll engage The worthy Youth shall ne'er be in a rage : But were his Verses vile, his Whisper base : You'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's case.

50 Sejanus, Wolsey, hurt not honest Fleury, But well may put some Statesmen in a fury.

Laugh then at any, but at Fools or Foes; These

and you mend not those. 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 jest, Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest; Did not the Sneer of more impartial men At Sense and Virtue balance all again.

60 Judicious Wits spread wide the Ridicule, And charitably comfort Knave and Fool.

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



but anger,


U 2

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 Sense, 70
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 to English all the while,
As, though the Pride of Middleton and Bland,

All Boys may read, and Girls may understand!
Then might I ling, without the least offence,
And all I sung should be the Nation's Sense;
Or teach the Melancholy Muse to mourn,
Hang the fad Verse on CAROLINA's Urn,

And hail her passage to the Realms of Rest,
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 so? if Satire knows its Time and Place,
You still may lafh the greatest-in Disgrace :
For Merit will by turns forsake them all;
Would you know when ? exactly when they falt.
But let all Satire in all Changes spare
Immortal S-k, and


Silent and soft, as Saints remov'd to Heaven,
All Ties dissolv'd, and every Sin forgiven,
may some gentle ministerial Wing

95 Receive, and place for ever near a King!



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