He'll treat me as he does my Betters.

(1) Publish my Will, my Life, my Letters, Revive the Libels born to dye;

Which POPE muft bear, as well as I.

Here shift the Scene, to reprefent How those I love, my Death lament. Poor POPE will grieve a Month; and GAY. I A Week; and ARBUTHNOTT a Day.

ST. JOHN himself will fcarce forbear, To bite his Pen, and drop a Tear.

The

(1) Curl is notoriously infamous for publishing the Lives, Letters, and laft Wills and Teftaments of the Nobility and Minifters of State, as well as of all the Rogues, who are banged at Tyburn. He hath been in Cuftody of the House of Lords for publishing or forging the Letters of many Peers; which made the Lords enter a Refolution in their Journal Book, that no Life or Writings of any Lord fhould be published without the Confent of the next Heir at Law, or Licence from their House.

The reft will give a Shrug, and cry,
I'm forry; but we all muft dye.
Indifference Clad in Wifdom's Guife
All Fortitude of Mind fupplies :
For how can ftony Bowels melt,
In those who never Pity felt

When We are lafh'd, They kifs the Rod
Refigning to the Will of God.

THE Fools, my Juniors by a Year, Are tortur'd with Sufpence and Fear. Who wifely thought my Age a Screen, When death approach'd, to ftand between : The Screen remov'd, their Hearts are trembling, They mourn for me without diffembling.

My female Friends, whofe tender Hearts, Have better learn'd to Act their Parts. Receive the News in doleful Dumps,

"The Dean is Dead, (and what is Trumps?)

"Then

"Then Lord have Mercy on his Soul.
" (Ladies I'll venture for the Vole.)
"Six Dean's they fay muft bear the Pall.
" (I wish I knew what King to call. )
"Madam, your Husband will attend
"The Funeral of fo good a Friend.
"No Madam, 'tis a fhocking Sight,
"And he's engag'd To-morrow Night !
"My Lady Club wou'd take it ill,
"If he fhou'd fail her at Quadrill.
"He lov❜d the Dean. (I led a Heart. )
"But dearest Friends, they fay, must part,
"His Time was come, he ran his Race;
We hope he's in a better Place.

WHY do we grieve that Friends fhould dye? No Lofs more easy to supply.

One Year is paft; a different Scene;

No further mention of the Dean;

Whe

Who now, alas, no more is mift,
Than, if he never did exist.
Where's now this Fav'rite of Apollo?
Departed; and his Works must follow:
Muft undergo the common Fate;
His Kind of Wit is out of Date.

Some Country Squire to (1) Lintot goes,
Enquires for SWIFT in Verfe and Profe
Says Lintot, I have heard the Name:
"He dy'd a Year ago." The fame.
He searches all his Shop in vain ;

"Sir you may find them in (2) Duck-lane:

"Ifent them with a Load of Books,

Laft Monday, to the Paftry-cooks.

"I keep

(1) Bernard Lintot, a Bookfeller in London. Vide Mr. Pope's Dunciad.

(2) A Place where old Books are fold in London.

"To fancy they cou'd live a Year!
"I find you're but a Stranger here.
"The Dean was famous in his Time;
"And had a Kind of Knack at Rhyme:
"His way of Writing now is past;
"The Town hath got a better Taste :
"I keep no antiquated Stuff;

"But, fpick and fpan I have enough.
"Pray, do but give me leave to fhew 'em,'
"Here's Colley Cibber's Birth-day Poem.
"This Ode you never yet have seen,
66 By *

, upon the Queen.

"Then, here's a Letter finely penn'd

66

Against the Craftsman and his Friend; "It clearly fhews that all Reflection

"On Ministers, is Difaffection.

(1) "Next, here's Sir R's Vindication, (2)" And Mr. Henly's laft Oration:

(1)

bath a Set of Party Scriblers, who

do nothing else but write in his Defence.

(2) Henly is a Clergyman who wanting both Merit and Luck to get Preferment, or even to