Yet, 'tis but little that its form be caught,
Unless its origin be first in thought:

Elfe rebel nature will reveal the cheat,

And the whole work of art at once defeat.

Hold forth upon yourself on no pretence,
Unless invited, or in felf-defence;

The praise you take, although it be your due,
Will be suspected, if it come from you:
For each man, by experience taught, can tell
How ftrong a flatterer does within him dwell:
And if to self-condemning you incline,
In fober sadness, and without defign,
(For fome will flyly arrogate a vice,

That from excefs of virtue takes its rife)

The world cries out, why does he hither come?
Let him do penance for his fins at home.

No part of conduct afks for fkill more nice,
Though none more common, than to give advice:
Mifers themselves in this will not be faving,
Unless their knowledge makes it worth the having.
And where's the wonder, when we will obtrude
An useless gift, it meets ingratitude?

Shun then, unafk'd, this arduous task to try;

But if confulted, ufe fincerity;

་

Too

Too facred is the welfare of a friend,

To give it up

for any selfish end.

But use one caution, fift him o'er and o'er,

To find if all be not refolv'd before,

If fuch the cafe, in spite of all his art,

Some word will give the foundings of his heart;
And why fhould you a bootlefs freedom use,
That serves him not, and may his friendship lofe?
Yet ftill on truth bestow this mark of love,
Ne'er to commend the thing you can't approve.
Sincerity has fuch refistless charms,

She oft the fierceft of our foes difarms:

No art she knows, in native whiteness drefs'd,

Her thoughts all pure, and therefore all express'd:
She takes from error its deformity;

And without her, all other virtues die.

Bright fource of goodness! to my aid defcend,
Watch o'er my heart, and all my words attend :
If ftill thou deign to fet thy foot below,
Among a race quite polish'd into show,
Oh! fave me from the jilt's diffembling part,
Who grants to all all favours, but her heart;
Perverts the end of charming, for the fame;
To fawn, her bufinefs; to deceive, her aim:

She smiles on this man, tips the wink on that,
Gives one a squeeze, another a kind pat;
Now jogs a foot, now whispers in an ear;
Here flips a letter, and there cafts a leer;
'Till the kind thing, the company throughout,
Distributes all its pretty self about ;

While all are pleas'd, and wretched foon or late,
All but the wife, who see and fhun the bait.
Yet if, as complaisance requires to do,
And rigid virtue fometimes will allow,
You ftretch the truth in favour of a friend,
Be fure it ever aim at fome good end
To cherish growing virtue, vice to shame,
And turn to noble views the love of fame:
And not, like fawning parafites, unaw'd
By sense or truth, be every paffion's bawd.

Be rarely warm in cenfure, or in praise;
Few men deserve our paffion either ways:
For half the world but floats 'twixt good and ill,
As chance disposes objects, these the will:

'Tis but a fee-faw game, where virtue now

Mounts above vice, and then finks down as low.
Besides the wife ftill hold it for a rule,

To trust that judgment most, that seems most cool:

For all that rifes to hyperbole,

Proves that we err, at least in the degree.
But if your temper to extremes fhould lead,
Always upon th' indulging fide exceed;

For though to blame most lend a willing ear,
Yet hatred ever will attend on fear :

And when a neighbour's dwelling blazes out,
The world will think 'tis time to look about.

Let not the curious from your bosom steal
Secrets, where Prudence ought to fet her feal;
Yet be fo frank and plain, that at one view,
In other things, each man may fee you through:
For if the mask of policy you wear,

The honest hate you, and the cunning fear.
Would you be well receiv'd where-e'er you go,
Remember each man vanquifh'd is a foe.
Resist not, therefore, with your utmost might,
But let the weakest think he's fometimes right;
He, for each triumph you shall thus decline,
Shall give ten opportunities to fhine:

He fees, fince once you own'd him to excel,
That 'tis his intereft you should reason well;

And though when roughly us'd, he's full of choler,
As bluft'ring B--y to a brother scholar,

Yet by degrees, inure him to submit,

He's tame, and in his mouth receives the bit.
But chiefly against trifling contests guard,

'Tis here fubmiffion feems to man moft hard:
Nor imitate that refolute old fool",

Who undertook to kick against his mule.
But those who will not by instruction learn,
How fatal trifles prove, let story warn.

Panthus and Euclio, link'd by friendship's tie,
Liv'd each for each, as each for each would die;
Like objects pleas'd them, and like objects pain'd;
'Twas but one foul that in two bodies reign'd.
One night, as ufual 'twas their nights to pass,
They ply'd the cheerful, but still temp❜rate glass,
When lo! a doubt is rais'd about a word:

A doubt that must be ended by the fword:
One falls a victim, mark, O man, thy shame,
Because their gloffaries were not the fame.
Could Ba-1-y's felf more tenderness have shown
For his two tomes of words, though half his own?
For what remains of failings without end,

Morals must fome, and fome the laws muft mend.

• Ctefipho.