But does the court a worthy man remove? 75 I study'd Shrewsbury, the wise and great : How shin'd the soul, unconquer'd, in the Tow'r! While Roman spirit charms, and Attic wit? 85 Argyle, the state's whole thunder born to wield, And shake alike the senate and the field? Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the throne, Names which I long have lov'd, nor lov'd in vain, 90 train; And if yet higher the proud list should end, Still let me say, no follower, but a friend. Yet think nor friendship only prompts my lays; I follow virtue; where she shines I praise. Din'd with the Man of Ross or my Lord May'r. 95 Some in their choice of friends (nay, look not grave) Have still a secret bias to a knave : To find an honest man I beat about, And love him, court him, praise him, in or out. F. Then why so few commended? P. Not so fierce; 101 Find you the virtue, and I'll find the verse. 105 But random praise....the task can ne'er be done; Each widow asks it for the best of men, For him she weeps, and him she weds agen. Praise cannot stoop, like Satire, to the ground; 110 The number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd. Enough for half the greatest of these days 115 To 'scape my censure, not expect my praise. O let my country's friends illumine mine! F. Faith the thought's no sin; I think your friends are out, and would be in. 120 125 F. They too may be corrupted, you'll allow ? 130 135 But pray, when others praise him do I blame? Call Verres, Wolsey, any odious name ? - Why rail they then if but a wreath of mine, To break my windows if I treat a friend, Then wisely plead to me they meant no hurt, But 'twas my guests at whom they threw the dirt? Sure if I spare the minister, no rules 146 Of honour bind me not to maul his tools; Sure if they cannot cut, it may be said, His saws are toothless, and his hatchets lead. It anger'd Turrene, once upon a day, 150 To see a footman kick'd that took his pay; But when he heard th' affront the fellow gave, And begg'd he'd take the pains to kick the rest; 156 F. Hold, Sir! for God's sake; where's the affront to you? Against your worship when had S*****k writ? Or grant the bard whose distich all commend, 160 What's that to you, who ne'er was out nor in? 165 171 As hog to hog in huts of Westphaly : If one, thro' Nature's bounty or his lord's, From him the next receives it, thick or thin, 175 As pure a mess almost as it came in ; From tail to mouth they feed and they carouse; The last full fairly gives it to the house. F. This filthy simile, this beastly line, Quite turns my stomach.... P. So does flatt'ry mine; And all your courtly civet-cats can vent, 180 But hear me further....Japhet, 'tis agreed, 185 Writ not, and Chartres scarce could write or read; In all the courts of Pindus guiltless quite; But pens can forge, my friend, that cannot write; 190 195 Th' affront is mine, my friend, and should be your's. Mine as a foe profess'd to false pretence, 201 Who think a coxcomb's honour like his sense; Mine as a friend to ev'ry worthy mind; And mine as man, who feel for all mankind. |