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What punishment would you infliet ?
Or call 'em rogues, or get 'em kickt ?
Thele they have often try'd before ;
You but oblige 'em so much more:
Themselves would be the first to tell,
To make their trash the better sell.

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you so ?

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You have been libell'd--Let us know,
What fool officious told
Will you regard the hawker's cries,
Who in his titles always lies?
Whate'er the noisy fcoundrel says,
It might be something in your praise :
And praise beftow'd on Grubftreet rhymes
Would vex one more a thousand times.
Till critics blame, and judges praise,
The poet cannot claiın his bays.
On me, when dunces are satiric,
I take it for a panegyric.
Hated by fuo:s, and fools to hate,
Be that my motto, and my fate.

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On

D R E A M S.

An Imitation of PETRONIUS.

Written in the year 1724.

Somnia quæ mentes ludunt volitantibus umbris, &c.

Here dreams, that on the filent night intrude,

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lude,

Jove never sends us downward from the skies;
Nor can they from infernal mansions rise;
But are all mere productions of the brain, 5
And fools consult interpreters in vain.

For, when in bed we rest our weary limbs,
The mind unburden'd sports in various whims;
The bufy head with mimic arts runs o’er
The scenes and actions of the day before. ιο

The drowsy tyrant, by his minions-led,
To re al rage devotes fome patriot's head.
With equal terrors, not with equal guilt,
The murd'rer dreams of all the blood he fpilt.
The foldier smiling hears the widow's cries.

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And stabs the fon before the mother's eyes.
With like remo: se his brother of the trade,
The butcher, fells the lamb beneath his blade.

The statesinan rakes the town to find a plot, And dreams of forfeitures by treason got. Nor less Tom t d man, of true statesinan mold, Collects the city-filth in search of gold.

Orphans around his bed the lawyer fees, And takes the plaintiff's and defendant's fees. His fellow pick-purse, watching for a job, 25 Fancies his fingers in the cully's fob.

The kind physician grants the husband's pray’rs, Or gives relief to long-expecting heirs. The sleeping hangman ties the fatal noose, Nor unsuccessful waits for dead mens shoes.

30 The grave divine with knotty points perplext, As if he was awake, nods o'er his text : While the fly mountebank attends his trade, Harangues the rabble, and is better paid. The hireling fenator of modern days

35 Bedaubs the guilty great with neafeous praise :

And

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And Dick the scavenger with equal grace
Flirts from his cart the mud in W-1-le's face.

To STELLA, visiting me in my sickness,

October 17 27.

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PALLAS, observing Stella’s wit,

Was more than for her sex was fit,
And that her beauty, foon or late.
Might breed confusion in the state,
In high concern for humankind,
Fix'd honour in her infant mind.

But, (not in wranglings to engage
With such a stupid vitious age),
If honour I would here define,
It answers faith in things divine.
As nat’ral life the body warms,
And, scholars teach, the soul informs ;
So honour animates the whole,
And is the spirit of the soul.

Those num'rous virtues which the tribe
Of tedious moralists describe,
And by such various titles call,
True honour comprehends them all.
Let melancholy rule supreme,
Choler preside, or blood, or phlegm,
It makes no difference in the case,
Nor is complexion honour's place,

But, left we should for honour take
The drunken quarrels of a rake;
Or think it feated in a scar,
Or on a proud triumphal car,
Or in the payment of a debt
We lose with sharpers at Picquet ;

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Or when a whore in her vocation
Keeps punctual to an affignation;
Or that on which his Lordship fwears,
When vulgar knaves would lose their ears;
Let Stella's fair examples preach
A lesson she alone can teach.

In points of honour to be try'd,
All paflions must be laid afide :
Ask no advice, but think alone;
Suppose the question not your own :
How shall I act? is not the case ;
But how would Brutus in my place?
In such a cause would Cato bleed ?
And how would Socrates proceed ?

Drive all objections from your mind,
Else you relapse to humankind;
Ambition, avarice, and lust,
And factious rage, and breach of trust,
And Aatt’ry tipt with nauseous fleer,
And guilty shame, and servile fear,
Envy, and cruelry, and pride,
Will in your tainted heart prefide.

Heroes aud heroines of old
By honour only were inroil'd
Among their brethren in the skies,
To which (though late) fhall Stella rise.
Ten thousand oaths upon record
Are not so sacred as her word :
The world shall in its atoms end,
Ere Stella can deceive a friend.
By honour feated in her breast
She still determines what is best :
What indignation in her mind
Against inflavers of mankind !
Bale kings, and ministers of state,
Eternal objects of her hate.

she thinks that nature ne'er design'd Courage to man alone confin’d :

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Can cowardice her sex adorn.
Which most exposes ours to scorn ?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears ;
For Stella never learn'd ihe art
At proper times to scream and start ;
Nor calls up all the house at night,
And swears she saw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because she heard a sudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.

Her hearers are amaz'd from whence
Proceeds that fund of wit and sense;
Which, though her modefty would throud,
Breaks like the fun behind a cloud ;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through ev'ry motion steals.

Say, Stell, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, emiftook your kind ?
No, 'twas for

you

alone he stole
The fire that forms a manly foul ;
Then, to complete it every way,
He moulded it with female clay :
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would ingratitude delight,
And how would Censure glut her spight,
If I should Stella's kindness hide
In filence, or forget with pride?
When on my fickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lainenting in unmanly strains,
Call'd ev'ry pow'r to ease my pains;
Then Srella ran to my relief
With chearful face, and inward grief;
And, though by heav'n's severe decree
She suffers hourly more than me,

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