Your wisdom I fuppofe can't bear About dull pantomime to hear; Nor would you have a fingle word Of Harlequin, and wooden fword, Of dumb fhew, fools tricks, and wry fac And wit which lies all in grimaces, Nor fhould I any thing advance Of new invented comic dance.
Callous, perhaps, to things like these,
Would it your worship better please,
That I, more loaden than the camels,
Should crawl in philofophic trammels?
Should I attack the ftars, and stray
In triumph o'er the milky way,
And like the TITANS try to move
From feat of empire royal Jove,
Then spread my terrors all around,
And his Satellites confound,
Teach the war far and wide to rage,
And ev'ry star by turns engage?
The danger we should share between us,
You fight with MARS and I with VENUS
Or fhould I rather, if I cou'd,
Talk of words little understood,
Centric, eccentric, epicycle,
Fine words the vulgar ears to tickle!
A vacuum, plenum, gravitation,
And other words of like relation,
Which may agree with ftudious men,
But hurt my teeth, and gag my pen ;
Things of fuch grave and ferious kind
Puzzle my head and plague my mind;
Befides in writing to a friend
A man may any nonsense fend,
And the chief merit to impart,
The honeft feelings of his heart.
INSCRIBED TO THE REV. MR. HA
WORTH is excis'd, and Virtue pay
A heavy Tax for barren praise,
A friend to univerfal Man,
Is univerfal good your plan?
GOD may perhaps your project bless,
But man fhall ftrive to thwart fuccefs.
Tho' the grand fcheme thy thoughts purf
Bespeak a noble generous view,
Where CHARITY o'er all prefides,
And SENSE approves what VIRTUE guide
Yet wars and tumults will commence,
For Rogues hate virtue, Blockheads fenfe.
Believe me, Oppofition grows Not always from our real foes, But (where it feldom ever ends)
From our more dangerous feeming friends. I hate not foes, for they declare,
'Tis War for War, and dare who dare;
But your fly, sneaking, worming fouls,
Whom FRIENDSHIP fcorns, and FEAR Controuls,
Who praise, support, and help by halves,
Like Heifers, neither Bulls nor Calves;
Who, in Hypocrify's disguise,
Are truly as the Serpent wife,
But cannot ALL the precept love,
And be as harmless as the Dove.
Who hold each charitable meeting,
To mean no more than good found eating,
While each becomes a hearty fellow
According as he waxes mellow,
And kindly helps the main design,
By drinking its fuccefs in wine;
And when his feet and fenfes reel,
Totters with correfpondent zeal;
Nay, would appear a patron wife,
But that his wisdom's in disguise,
And would harangue, but that his mouth,
Which ever hates the fin of drowth,
Catching the full perpetual glass,
Cannot afford a word to país.
Such, who like true Churchwardens eat,
Because the Parish pays the treat,
Who would no doubt be wond'rous just,
And faithful Guardians of their trust,
But think the deed might run more clever
To them and to their Heirs for ever,
That Charity, too apt to roam,
Might end, where she begins, at home;
Who make all public good a trade,
Benevolence a mere parade,
And Charity a cloak for fin,
To keep it fnug and warm within;
Who flatter, only to betray,
Who promise much and never pay,
Who wind themselves about your heart
With hypocritic, knavish art,
Tell you what wond'rous things they're do And undermine you to your ruin
Such, or of low or high eftate,
To speak the honeft truth, I hate :
I view their tricks with indignation,
And loath each fulfom proteftation,
As I would loath a whore's embrace,
Who fmiles, and smirks, and stroaks my
And all fo tender, fond and kind,
As free of body, as of mind,
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