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Even schoolmasters teach us—and who can be grimmer?

[primer ? Don't they lecture their boys from a gingerbread

However, good sir, as you seem to look serious, And my subject begins to grow somewhat mysterious ;

[your beard Come curl up your whiskers, and stroke down Right-for sober discussion we now are prepared. To return to our soldier, our ploughman, and

trader, Not forgetting their worthy companion the pleader; Though at first sight they differ so widely, yet

rot 'em! I find the same principle rules at the bottom; Put the question home to them with sense and dis

cretion, And, my life to a blank, you'll obtain a confession, That with patience all perils and toils they engage To provide in the spring for the winter of age. 'Well, and prudently thought on! Oh Bravo!' cries Jacob

(take up; Fair and softly-Now you shall the argument By debating the point we may both become wiser : Come, I'll be Old Flaccus, while you play the

Miser.

JACOB.

Of industry's cares, if an instance you want,
I can furnish you soon -Cast your eyes on the ant;
To human endeavours a quickening example,
Her form how minute! yet her labours how ample!
Incessant in toil, all around see her scrape,
Then bear off the burden to add to her heap;
The man who is wise will pursue her good maxim,
Though the idle and thoughtless with avarice tax

him.

AUTHOR.
Well moved, Doctor Squaretoes! Ha, old Anno

Domini !
I see you regard these affairs with no common eye.
But hark you, my friend—To avoid all delusion,
Your memoirs of the ant we must bring to conclu-

sion;

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In our sense of her work not a little we vary,
So the quomodo's granted-but now for the quare;
You've described her task nobly, mark the end

on't as well-
When winter comes on she keeps snug in her cell ;
There, unlocking her storehouse, regales on each

dainty,
So, while misers are starving, she revels in plenty.
Thus you see your comparison breaks in the middle,
Like Sam Butler's old tale of the Bear and the

Fiddle;
For the wretch, who by Mammon's cursed magic
is taken,

[Bacon;
Can no more touch his treasure than you can touch
In his spoil to the ant you may justly compare him,
For no pain can deter, and no danger can scare him;
Fire and sword, sea and air, strive in vain to con-

trol him;
All is well so he gets but a plum to console him:
And why does he take all those pains to provide it?
Grant me patience, kind heaven!—For no end but

to hide it.

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JACOB,

Not so hasty, young man-If you take from the treasure,

[pleasure ! You destroy the round sum--Then adieu to your

AUTHOŘ.
Well, unless you do so, for my life I can't see
In the overgrown pile what enjoyment can be.

Suppose your Jamaica plantation produces Fifty hogsheads or more of the sugar-cane's juices; Of all this abundance your head gives no sign, Should you drink to excess it would ache just like mine.

[tionYou contract—Be not angry, 'tis but supposiTo victual our fleet for the next expedition ; What slaughtering of oxen! what butchering of hogs !

[the dogs. Yet for your part all this might be thrown to the To what purpose this superabundance of plenty, When an humble beefsteak at Pontac's can con

tent you? Rabbi, yield up the point-A pantheon of gods Shall never persuade me it can make any odds Of Nature's good gifts to the temperate partaker, If He ploughs forty thousand or one single acre.

JACOB. But the joy to see heaps of bright gold as they lie! How they ravish the sense! how they dazzle the eye!

AUTHOR. Ah! great offerer of schemes ! sage descendant of Moses !

[opposes ! How weak prejudice here your sound judgment If I have but enough, for that sure is the test, Then my purse serves as well as your huge iron

chest. Should you chance to be thirsty, and choose to drink water,

[bless'd daughter? With a jug to the Thames would you send your

Just to boast that from London's famed river you quaff'd,

[your draught. When the good pump of Aldgate might answer Besides that’tis needless, there's danger attending, Lest, while o'er the river's frail bank you are

bending, The swoln torrent its channel should cease to obey,

[away. And, o'erwhelm'd by its rage, sweep you headlong But he, who content to the spring can repair, May satisfy nature, unruffled by care; Its clear silver streams, unpolluted with mud, Run bubbling along, nor e'er rise to a flood; [find The beverage is wholesome-do but try it-you'll It gives health to the body and peace to the mind. To a gosling these figures might call for explaining,

[meaning. But with half an eye, Jacob, you'll spy out my

I know 'tis a maxim received in Change Alley (But their scales with my standard sure nover

will tally), That nothing but wealth without measure can

(appraise you. For—the sum you are worth—at so much they Why these people are mad— Volunteers for a mad

house Ah Jonathan's! Jonathan's ! thou art a sad house! By one single sentence thy mystery's explored* Truth and Justice are laugh'd at, and Mammon

adored.' For a frenzy like this what relief do we know? Son of Isaac! 'twould baffle the art of Mónro. Let the wretches proceed then without molestation, Since they choose to be damn'd_let them go to

damnation.

raise you,

I remember a griping old Lombard-street banker, Whose heart was eat up by this gold-loving canker; His fraud and oppression so flagrant became, Men, women, and children detested his name; Mobs with hisses pursued if he stirr'd from his

portal, Yet hear the consolement of this wretched mortal: "Let them cat-call and hiss as they will,' cries old Hunks,

[trunks; So their hisses and cat-calls invade not my There my god lies enshrined, when his radiance I Heaven's angels are not half so happy as I.' [spy,

Perhaps you may never have heard of the story Of poor Master Tantalus-here 'tis before you— Tormented with hunger and thirst, though his

board With delicate dainties was always well stored, As he stretch'd forth his hand still they flew from the table

[fable ! What the devil! old Gripus, you laugh at the Consider it closely, then laugh if you can— Let the name be but alter'd, and thou art the man.

In miserly dotage you brood o'er your bags, Your food is a crust, and your clothing is rags; For your cursed molten idol your reverence is such, Though in rapturés you gaze, yet you dare not to

touch; Nay I hear you cry out, in the rage of devotion, Blasphemer! there's sacrilege even in the notion.' Would you know the true use of your wealth?

Why, I'll tell you — [your belly; Your back calls for clothes, and for food calls First grant their petitions, then look to your

neighbours, Merit often neglected in indigence labours;

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