Our depths who fathoms, or our shallows finds? quick whirls and shifting eddies of our minds. Ôn human actions reason tho' you can, it may be reason, but it is not man: his principle of action once explore, that instant 't is his principle no more. Like following life, thro' creatures you dissect, you lose it in the moment you detect. Yet more; the diff'rence is as great between the optics seeing as the objects seen. All manners take a tincture from our own, or come discolour'd thro' our passions shown; or Fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies, contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes. Nor will life's stream for observation stay, 25 30 35 it hurries all too fast to mark their way: in vain sedate reflections we would make, when half our knowledge we must snatch, not take. Oft' in the passions' wild rotation tost, 41 our spring of action to ourselves is lost: tir'd, not determin'd, to the last we yield, and what comes then is master of the field. As the last image of that troubled heap, is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do. True, some are open, and to all men known; others so very close they 're hid from none; (so darkness strikes the sense no less than light) thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at sight; and ev'ry child hates Shylock tho' his soul still sits at squat, and peeps not from it's hole. 45 50 55 At half mankind when gen'rous Manly raves, all see 't is vice, and itch of vulgar praise. tho' strong the bent, yet quick the turns of mind: 60 65 70 See the same man in vigour, in the gout, alone, in company, in place, or out, Who would not praise Patricio's high desert, 75 80 85 What made (say Montaigne, on more sage Charron) Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon? A purjur'd prince a leaden saint revere, a godless regent tremble at a star? 90 The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit, 95 would from th' apparent what conclude the why, 100 infer the motive from the deed, and show that what we chanc'd was what we meant to do. Behold! if fortune or a mistress frowns, 105 110 some plunge in bus'ness, others shave their crowns: to ease the soul of one oppressive weight, this quits an empire, that embroils a state. The same adust complexion has impell'd Charles to the convent, Phillip to the field. Not always actions shew the man: we find who does a kindness is not therefore kind: perhaps prosperity becalm'd his breast; perhaps the wind just shifted from the east: not therefore humble he who seeks retreat: Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the great.` Who combats bravely is not therefore brave; he dreads a death-bed like the meaner slave. Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise, his pride in reas'ning, not in acting, lies. But grant that actions best discover man; 115 take the most strong, and sort them as you can: 120 the few that glare each character must mark; you balance not the many in the dark. What will you do with such as disagree? suppress them, or miscall them policy? Must then at once (the character to save) But, 125 'T is from high life high characters are drawn; a saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn: a judge is just, a chancellor juster still; a grownman learn'd; a bishop what you will: wise if a minister; but if a king, 130 136 141 more wise, more learn'd, more just, more ev'ry thing. they please as beauties, here as wonders strike. 'Tis education forms the common mind; 145 150 155 how trade increases, and the world goes well. That gay Free-thinker, a fine talker once, 180 Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes, tenets with books, and principles with times. Search then the ruling passion: there, alone, the wild are constant, and the cunning known; 175 the fool consistent, and the false sincere; priest, princes, women, no dissemblers here. This clue once found unravels all the rest," the prospect clears, and Wharton stands confest. Wharton! the scorn and wonder of our days, whose ruling passion was the lust of praise: born with whate'er could win it from the wise, women and fools must like him, or he dies: tho' wond'ring senates hung on all he spoke, the club must' Hail him master of the joke. Shall parts so various aim at nothing new? He'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too: then turns repentant, and his God adores with the same spirit that he drinks and whores; enough if all around him but adinire, and now the punk applaud and now the friar, Thus with each gift of Nature and of Art, 185 190 |