(g)" But why all this of avarice? I have none." I wish you joy, Sir, of a tyrant gone; But does no other lord it at this hour, As wild and mad? the avarice of power? Does neither rage inflame, nor fear appall? Not the black fear of death, that faddens all? With terrors round, can reason hold her throne, Defpife the known, nor trouble at th' unknown? Survey both worlds, intrepid and entire, In fpite of witches, devils, dreams, and fire? Pleas'd to look forward, pleas'd to look behind, And count each birth-day with a grateful mind? Has life no fourness, drawn so near its end; Canft thou endure a foe, forgive a friend?

Viribus, ingenio, fpecie, virtute, loco, re,
Extremi primorum, extremis ufque priores.
(g) Non es avarus: abi. quid? caetera jam si-
mul ifto

Cum vitio fugere? caret tibi pectis inani
Ambitione? caret mortis formidine et ira?

Has age but melted the rough parts away,
As winter fruits grow mild ere they decay?
Or will you think, my friend, your business done,
When, of a hundred thorns, you pull out one?

(b) Learn to live well, or fairly make your will; You've play'd, and lov'd, and eat, and drank your fill:

Walk fober off; before a sprightlier age
Comes tittering on, and fhoves you from the stage:
Leave fuch to trifle with more grace and ease,
Whom folly pleases, and whose follies please.

Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, fagas,
Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Theffala rides?
Natales grate numeras? ignofcis amicis?
Lenior et melior fis accedente fenecta?
Quid te extrema levat spinis de pluribus una!
(b) Vivere fi recte nefcis, decede peritis.
Lufifti fatis, edifti fatis, atque bibisti:
Tempus abire tibi est: ne potum largius aequ♦
Rideat, et pullet lasciva decentius actas.

HOR.

SATIRE II.

Yes; thank my ftars! as early as I knew
This town, I had the fenfe to hate it too :
Yet here, as ev'n in hell, there must be still
One giant-vice, fo excellently ill,
That all befide, one pities, nor abhors;
As who knows Sappho, fmiles at other whores.
I grant that poetry's a crying fin;

It brought (no doubt) th' excife and army in:
Catch'd like the plague, or love, the Lord knows
But that the cure is ftarving, all allow. [how
Yet like the papift's, is the poet's state.
Poor and difarm'd, and hardly worth your hate!
Here a lean bard, whofe wit could never give
Himself a dinner, makes an actor live:
The thief condemn'd, in law already dead,
So prompts, and faves a rogue who cannot read.
Thus as the pipes of fome carv'd organ move,
The gilded puppets dance and mount above.
Heav'd by the breath th' inspiring bellows blow:
Th' inspiring bellows lie and pant below.

One fings the fair: but fongs no longer move;
No rat is rhym'd to death, nor maid to love :
In love's, in nature's spite, the siege they hold,
And scorn the flesh, the devil, and all but gold.
Thefe write to lords, fome mean reward to get,
As needy beggars fing at doors for meat.
Those write because all write, and so have still
Excufe for writing, and for writing ill.

Wretched indeed but far more wretched yet Is he who makes his meal on others wit: 'Tis chang'd, no doubt, from what it was before; His rank digeftion makes it wit no more:

Senfe, paft through him, no longer is the fame; For food digefted takes another name.

I pafs o'er all thofe confeffors and martyrs,
Who live like S-tt-n, or who die like Chartres,
Out-cant old Efdras, or out-drink his heir,
Out-ufure Jews, or Irishmen out-fwear;
Wicked as pages, who in early years

Act fins which Prifca's confeffor scarce hears.
Ev'n thofe I pardon, for whose sinful fake
Schoolmen new tenements in hell muft make;
Of whofe strange crimes no canonist can tell
In what commandment's large contents they dwell.
One, one man only breeds my just offence;
Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave im-
pudence:

Time, that at last matures a clap to pox,
Whofe gentle progress makes a calf an ox,
And brings all natural events to pafs,
Hath made him an attorney of an ass.
No young divine, new-benefic'd, can be
More pert, more proud, more positive, than he.
What further could I wish the fop to do,
But turn a wit, and scribble verses too?
Pierce the foft labyrinth of a lady's ear
With rhymes of this per cent., and that per year?
Or court a wife, fpread out his wily parts,
Like nets or line-twigs, for rich widows hearts;
Call himself barrister to every wench,

And woo in language of the pleas and bench?
Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold
More rough than forty Germans when they

fcold.

Curs'd be the wretch, so venal and so vain: Paltry and proud, as drabs in Drury-lane,

'Tis fuch a bounty as was never known,
If Peter deigns to help you to your own:
What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies!
And what a folemn face, if he denies!
Grave, as when prisoners shake the head and fwear
'Twas only furetiship that brought them there.
His office keeps your parchment fates entire,
He ftarves with cold to fave them from the fire;
For you he walks the ftreets through rain or duft,
For not in chariots Peter puts his truft;
For you he fweats and labours at the laws,
Takes God to witnefs he affects your caufe,
And lies to every lord in every thing,
Like a king's favourite or like a king.
These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly
Not more of Simony beneath black gowns,
Not more of baftardy in heirs to crowns.
In fhillings and in pence at first they deal;
And fteal fo little, few perceive they steal
Till, like the sea, they compass all the land,
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover ftrand:
And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,
Or when a duke to Janffen punts at White's,
Or city heir in mortgage melts away;
Satan himself feels far lefs joy than they
Piecemeal they win this acre firft, then that,
Glean on, and gather up the whole eftate.
Then ftrongly fencing ill-got wealth by law,
Indentures, covenants, articles they draw,
Large as the fields themselves, and larger far
Than civil codes, with all their gloffes, are;
So vaft, our new divines, we must confefs,
Are fathers of the church for writing less.
But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
The deeds, and dextrously omits, fes beires:
No commentator can inore flily pass
Over a learn'd, unintelligible place:
Or, in quotation, fhrewd divines leave out [doubt.
Thofe words that would against them clear the
So Luther thought the pater-nofter long,
When doom'd to fay his beads and even-fong;
But having caft his cowl, and left thofe laws,
Adds to Chrift's prayer, the power and glory claufe.
The lands are bought; but where are to be found
Thofe ancient woods, that fhaded all the ground?
We fee no new-built palaces afpire,
No kitchens emulate the veftal fire.
Where are those troops of poor, that throng'd of
The good old landlord's hofpitable door?
Well, I could with, that still in lordly domes
Some beafts were kill'd, though not whole heca-
tombs ;

[yore

That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
Carthufian fafts, and fulfome bachanals;
And all mankind might that just mean observe,
In which none e'er could furfeit, none could ftarve.
Thefe as good works, 'tis true, we all allow,
But oh! thefe works are not in fashion now:
Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare,
Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.
Thus much I've faid, I truft, without offence;
Let no court fycophant pervert my fense,
Nor fly informer watch thefe words to draw
Within the reach of treason, or the law.
VOL, VIIL

SATIRE IV.

WELL, if it be my time to quit the ftage,
Adieu to all the follies of the age!
I die in charity with fool and knave,
Secure of peace at leaft beyond the grave.
I've had my purgatory here betimes,
And paid for all my fatires, all my rhymes.
The poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
To this were trifles, toys, and empty names.

With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd,
Nor the vain itch t' admire, or be admir'd;
I hop'd for no commiffion from his Grace;
I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place:
Had no new verfes, nor new fuit to fhow;
Yet went to court!-the devil would have it fo
But, as the fool that in reforming days
Would go to mafs in jeft (as ftory fays)
Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
Since 'twas no form'd defign of serving God;
So was I punish'd, as if full as proud,
As prone to ill, as negligent of good,
As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
As vain, as idle, and as falfe, as they

Who live at court, for going once that way!
Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold there came
A thing which Adam had been pos'd to name;
Noah had refus'd it lodging in his ark,
Where all the race of reptiles might embark:
A verier monfter, than on Afric's shore
The fun e'er got, or flimy Nilus bore,
Or Sloan or Woodward's wondrous fhelves contain,
Nay, all that lying travellers can feign.
The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,
At night would fwear him dropp'd out of the moon.
One, whom the mob, when next we find or make
A popish plot, fhall for a Jesuit take,
And the wife justice starting from his chair
Cry, By your priesthood tell me what you are?
Such was the wight: th' apparel on his back,
Though coarse, was reverend, and though bare
was black:

The fuit, if by the fashion one might guess,
Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Befs,
But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd;
So time, that changes all things, had ordain'd!
Our fons fhall fee it leifurely decay,
Firft turn plain rafh, then vanish quite away.

This thing has travell'd, and fpeaks language

too,

And knows what's fit for every state to do;
Of whose best phrafe and courtly accent join'd,
He forms one tongue, exotic and refin'd,

Talkers I've learn'd to bear; Morteux I knew,
Henley himself I've heard, and Budgel too.
The Doctor's wormwood ftyle, the hash of
tongues

A pedant makes, the form of Gunfon's lungs,
The whole artillery of the terms of war,
And (all thofe plagues in one) the bawling bar;
Thefe I could bear; but not a rogue fo civil,
Whofe tongue will compliment you to the devil.
A tongue, that can cheat widows, cancel fcores,
Make Scots speak treason, cozen fubtleft whores, ↑

K

With royal favourites in flattery vie, And Oldmixon and Burnet both outlie.

He fpies me out; I whisper, Gracious God!
What fin of mine could merit fuch a rod?
That all the fhot of dulnefs now must be
From this thy blunderbufs difcharg'd on me!
Permit (he cries) no ftranger to your fame
To crave your fentiment, if -'s your name.
What fpeech efteem you moft? "The king's,"
faid I.

But the beft words?-O Sir, the dictionary."
You mifs my aim! I mean the most acute
And perfect speaker?" Onflow, past dispute."
But, Sir, of writers? "Swift, for closer ftyle,
"But Hoadly for a period of a mile."

Why yes, 'tis granted, thefe indeed may pass:
Good common linguifts, and fo Panurge was;
Nay troth th' apoftles (though perhaps too rough)
Had once a pretty gift of tongues enough :
Yet thefe were all poor gentlemen! I dare
Affirm, 'twas travel made them what they were.
Thus, others talents having nicely shown,
He came by fure transition to his own:
Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself fo able,
Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel;
For had they found a linguist half fo good,
I make no queftion but the tower had flood.
"Obliging Sir! for courts you fure were made:
16 Why then for ever bury'd in the fhade?

86

Spirits like you, fhould fee and fhould be feen, "The king would fmile on you-at least the

"queen."

Ah, gentle Sir! you courtiers fo cajole us-
But Tully has it, "Nunquam minus folus."
And as for courts, forgive me, if I say
No leffons now are taught the Spartan way:
Though in his pictures luft be full difplay'd,
Few are the converts Aretine has made;
And though the court fhow vice exceeding clear,
None fhould, by my advice, learn virtue there.

At this entranc'd, he lifts his hands and eyes, Squeaks like a high stretch'd luteftring, and replies: "Oh, 'tis the fweetest of all earthly things "To gaze on princes, and, to talk of kings!"" Then, happy man who fhows the tombs! said I, He dwells amidst the royal family; He every day from king to king can walk, Of all Harries, all our Edwards talk; And get, by fpeaking truth of monarchs dead, What few can of the living, ease and bread. "Lord, Sir, a mere mechanic! Alrangely low, "And coarfe of phrafe,-your English all are fo. "How elegant your Frenchman!" Mine, d'ye mean?

I have but one; I hope the fellow's clean,
"Oh! Sir, politely fo! nay, let me die,
"Your only wearing is your paduafoy."
Not, Sir, my only, I have better ftill,
And this you fee is but my difhabille-
Wild to get loofe, his patience I provoke,
Miftake, confound, object at all he spoke.'
But as coarse iron, fharpen'd, mangles more,
And itch most hurts when anger'd to a fore;
So when you plague a fool, 'tis ftill the curfe,
You only make the matter worfe and worse.

He paft it o'er; affects an eafy fmile
At all my peevifhnefs, and turns his style.
He afks, "What news?" I tell him of new plays,
New eunuchs, harlequins, and operas.
He hears, and as a ftill with fimples in it,
Between each drop it gives, ftays half a minute,
Loth to enrich me with too quick replies,
By little, and by little, drops his lies. [fhow,
Mere household trafh: of birthnights, balls, and
More than ten Hollinfheds, or Halls, or Stows.
When the queen frown'd, or fmil'd, he knows; and
what

A fubtle minifter may make of that:
Who fins with whom: who got his pension rog,
Or quicken'd a reverfion by a drug:
Whofe place is quarter'd out, three parts in four,
And whether to a bishop, or a whore :
Who, having loft his credit, pawn'd his rent,
Is therefore fit to have a government :
Who, in the fecret, deals in ftocks fecure,
And cheats th' unknowing widow and the poor :
Who makes a truft of charity a job,
And gets an act of parliament to rob:
Why turnpikes rife, and now no cit nor clown
Can gratis fee the country, or the town:
Shortly no lad fhall chuck, or lady vole,
But fome excifing courtier will have toll.
He tells what ftrumpet places fells for life,
What 'fquire his lands, what citizen his wife :
At laft (which proves him wiser still than all)
What lady's face is not a whited wall.

As one of Woodward's patients, fick, and fore,
I puke, I nauseate,-yet he thrufts in more:
Trims Europe's balance, tops the statefman's part,
And talks gazettes and poftboys o'er by heart.
Like a big wife at fight of lothfome nicat
Ready to caft, I yawn, I figh, and sweat.
Then as a licens'd fpy, whom nothing can
Silence or hurt, he libels every man;
Swears every place entail'd for years to come,
In fure fucceflion to the day of doom :
He names the price for every office paid,
And fays our wars thrive ill, because delay'd;
Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the court,
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's ftill a port.
Not more amazement feiz'd on Circe's guests,
To fee themfelves fall headlong into beafts,
Than mine to find a fubject stay'd and wife
Already half turn'd traitor by surprise.
I felt th' infection flide from him to me;
As in the pox, fome give it to get free;
And quick to fwallow me, methought I faw
One of our giant ftatues ope its jaw.

In that nice moment, as another Lye
Stood juft a-tilt, the minifter came by.
To him he flies, and bows, and bows again,
Then, clofe as Umbra, joins the dirty train.
Not Fannius' felf more impudently near,
When half his nofe is in his prince's ear.
I quak'd at heart; and, ftill afraid to fee
All the court fill'd with ftranger things than he,
Ran out as faft as one that pays his bail,
And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.

Bear me, fome God! oh quickly bear me hence
To wholetome folitude, the nurfe of fente;

Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings,
And the free foul looks down to pity kings!
There fober thought purfu'd th' amusing theme,
Till fancy colour'd it, and form'd a dream.
A vilion hermits can to hell tranfport,

And forc'd ev❜n me to see the damn'd at court.
Not Dante, dreaming all th' infernal state,
Beheld fuch fcenes of envy, fin, and hate.
Bafe fear becomes the guilty, not the free;
Suits tyrants, plunderers, but fuits not me:
Shall 1, the terror of this finful town,
Care, if a livery'd lord or fmile or frown?
Who cannot flatter, and deteft who can,
Tremble before a noble ferving man?
O my

fair mistress, Truth! fhall I quit thee
For huffing, braggart, puft nobility?
Thou, who fince yesterday haft roll'd o'er all
The bufy, idle blockheads of the ball,
Haft thou, oh fun! beheld an emptier fort,
Than fuch as fwell this bladder of a court?
Now pox on those who fhow a court in wax!
It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs;
Such painted puppets fuch a varnish'd race
Of hollow gewgaws, only drefs and face!
Such waxen nofes, ftately staring things-
Now nder fome folks bow, and think them kings.
See! where the British youth, engag'd no

more,

་

At Fig's at White's, with felons, or a whore,
Pay their last duty to the court, and come
Al fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room;
In hues as gay, and odours as divine,
As the fair fields they fold to look fo` fine.
"That's velvet for a king!" the flatterer fwears;
'T's true, for ten days hence 'twill be King Lear's.
Our court may juftiy to our stage give rules,
That helps it both to fool's-coats and to fools.
And why not players ftrut in courtiers clothes?
For thefe are actors too, as well as those :
Wants reach all states: they beg but better dreft,
And all is fplendid poverty at best.

Painted for fight, and effenc'd for the smell,
Like frigates fraught with fpice and cochineal,
Sail in the ladies: how each pirate eyes
So weak a veffel, and fo rich a prize!
Top-gallant he, and the in all her trim,
He boarding her, the ftriking fail to him:
"Dear Countefs! you have charms all hearts to
"hit!"

And "Sweet Sir Fopling you have fo much

"wit."

Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for nought, For both the beauty and the wit are bought.

'Twould burst even Heraclitus with the spleen,
To fee those antics, Fopling and Courtin:
The prefence feems, with things fo richly odd,
The mofque of Mahound, or fome queer Pa-god.
See them furvey their limbs by Durer's rules,
Of all beau-kind the beft proportion'd fools?
Adjust their clothes, and to confeffion draw
Thofe venial fins, an atom, or a straw:
But oh what terrors muft diftract the foul
Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole :
Or should one pound of powder lefs bespread
Those monkey tails that wag behind their head!
Thus finifh'd, and corrected to a hair,

They march, to prate their hour before the fair.
So first to preach a white-gle v'd chaplain goes,
With band of lily, and with cheek of rose,
Sweeter than Sharon, in immac'late trim,
Neatnefs itself impertinent in him.

Let but the ladies fmile, and they are bleft: Prodigious! how the things protest, protest! Peace, fools, or Gonfon will for Papifts feize you, If once he catch you at your Jefu! Jefu

Nature made every fop to plague his brother, Juft as one beauty mortifies another But here's the captain that will plague them both, Whole air cries arm! whofe very looks an oath The captain's honeft, Sirs, and that's enough, Though his foul's bullet, and his body buff. He fpits fore-right; his haughty cheft before, Like battering rams, beats open every door : And with a face as red, and as awry, As Herod's hangdogs in old tapestry, Scarecrow to boys, the breeding woman's curfe, Has yet a ftrange ambition to look worse : Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe, Jefts like a licens'd fool, commands like law.

Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it fo As men from jails to execution go; For hung with deadly fins I fee the wall, And lin'd with giants deadlier than them all : Each man an askapart, of strength to tofs For quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing-cross. Scar'd at the grizly forms, I fweat, I fly, And shake all o'er, like difcover'd spy.

Courts are too much for wits fo weak as mine: Charge them with Heaven's artillery, bold divine !

From fuch alone the great rebukes endure,
Whose fatire's facred, and whose rage secure :
'Tis mine to wash a few light stains; but theirs
To deluge fin, and drown a court in tears.
Howe'er, what's now Apocrypha, my wit,
In time to come, may pafs for holy writ.

Kij