Imatges de pÓgina

And certain laws, by suff'rers thought unjust, EPISTLE 1. BOOK II.

Denied all posts of profit or of trust;

Hopes after hopes of pious Papists faild, DEAR colonel, Cobham's and your country's while mighty Willian's thund'ringarm prevail'd. You love a verse, take such as I can send. [friend! For Right Hereditary tax'd and fin’d, A Frenchman comes, presents you with his boy,

He stuck to poverty with peace of mind; Bows and begins" This lad, Sir, is of Blois :

And me the Muses help to undergo it; “ Observe his shape how clean, his locks how Convict a Papist he, and I a Poet. " curl'd!

But (thanks to Homer!) since I live and thrive, “ My only son, I 'd have him fee the world :

Indebted to no prince or pecr alive, “ His French is pure; his voice tooyou shall sure I thould want the care of ten Monroes, “ hear.

If I would scribble rather than repose. “ Sir, he's your Nave, for twenty pounds a year.

Years following years steal fomething ev'ry day, Mere wax as yet, you falhion hin with ease, At last they ftcal us from ourselves away; “ Your barber, cook, upholtt'rer,what you please : In one our' frolics, one amusements end, “ A perfect genius at an opera song

In one a mistrets drops, in one a friend : " To say too much, might do my honour wrong. This subtle thief of life, this paltry Time, “ Take him with all his virtues, on my word; What will it leave me, if it Inatch my rhyme! « His whole ambition was to serve a lord :

If ev'ry wheel of that unwearied mill, “ But, Sir, to you, with what would I not part? That túru'd ten thousand vertes, now stands ftill? “ Tho''faith, I fear,'twillbreak his mother's heart.

But, after all, what would you have ine do, “ Once (and but once) I caught him in a lie,

When out of twenty I can please not two; " And then, unwhipp'd, he had the grace to cry: When this Heroics only dcigns to praise, “ The fault he has I fairly shall reveal;

Sharp Satire that, and that Pindaric lays ! “ (Could you o'erlook but that) it is, to ftcal."

One likes the pheasant's wing, and one the log; If, after this, you took the graceless lad,

The vulgar boil, the learned roaft, an egg. Could you complain, my friend, he prov'd so bad i Hard talk! to hit the palate of such guetts, 'Faith, in such case, if you should prosecute, When Oldfield loves what Dartineuf detests. I think Sir Godfrey should decide che luit;

But grant I may relapse, for want of grace, Who sent the thief, that stole the cash, away,

Again to rhyme : can London be the place? And punish'd him that put it in his way. Who there his Musc, or felt, or fout attends, Consider then, and judge me in this light;

In crowds, and courts, law, business, feasts, and I told you, when I went, I could nor write;

friends? You said the same ; and are you discontent My counsel sends to execute a deed : With laws to which you gave your own assent?

A Poet begs me I will hear him read : Nay worse, to ask for verle at luch a time!

In Palace-yard at nine you 'll find me thereD'ye think me good for nothing but to rhyme ? Ar ten for certain, Sir, in Bloomil'ry square

In Anna's war's, a soldier poor and old Before the Lords at twelve my Caufe comes on Had dearly earn'd a little purse of gold : There's a Rehearsal, Sir, exact at one. Tird with a tedious march, one luckless night " Oh! but a Wit can study in the streets, He Nept, poor dog! and lost it to a doit. “ And raise his mind above the mob he meets," This put the man in such a desp'rate mind, Not quite so well however as one ought; Between revenge, and grief, and hunger join'd,

A hackney-coach may chance to spoil a thought; Against the foc, himself, and all mankind,

And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead, He leap'd the trenches, scal'd a castle wall,

God knows, may hurt the very ableft head. Tore down a standaru, took the fort and all.

Have you not seen, at Guildhall's narrow pass, “ Prodigious well!” his great commander cried ; Two Aldermen dispute it with an Als; Gave him much praise, and some reward beside. And Peers give way, exalted as they are, Next pleas'd his Excellence a town to batter; Even io their own S-r-y--nce in a car? (Its name I know not, and 'tis no great matter)

Go, lofty Poet! and in such a crowd di Go on, my friend (he cried), see yonder walls ! Sing thy sonorous verle—but not aloud. “ Advance and conquer! go where glory calls ! Alas! to grottos and to groves we run;

More honcurs, more rewards, attend the brave." To cale and filence ev'ry Muse's son : Don't you remember what reply he gave ? Blackmore himself, for any grand effort, D'ye think me, noble Gen’ral, such a fot?

Would drink and doze at Tooting orEarl's-Court. " Let him take castles who has ne'er a groat.” How thall I rhyme in this eternal roar ? [before ! Bred up at home, full early I begun

How match the bards whom none e'er match'd To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus' son.

The man who, stretch'd in lsis' calm retreat, Besides, my father taught inc, from a lad, To books and study gives seven years complete, The better art to know the good from bad: Sce! strew'd with learned duft, his nightcap on, (And little fure imported to remove,

He walks, an object new beneath the fun! To hunt for truth in Maudlin's learned grove.) The boys flock round him,and the people ftare: But knottier points we knew not half so well, So ttiff, To inute ! fome statue, you would swear, Depriv'd us soon of our paternal cell;

Stept from its pedestal to take the air !



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And here, while town, and court, and city roars, Who, tho' the House was up, delighted fate, With mobs,and duns,and soldiers, at their doors, Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate: Shall I in London act this idle part?

In all but this, a man of sober life, Composing songs, for Fools to get by heart? Fond of his Friend, and civil to his Wife;

The Temple late two brother Serjeants law, Not quite a madman cho' a pasty fell, Who deem'd each other Oracles of Law; And much too wise to walk into a well. With equal talents, these congenial fouls, Him the damn'd Doctors and his Friends immur'd, One lull'd th'Exchequer,and one stunn'd the Rolls: They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in short, Each had a gravity would make you split,

they cur'd: And shook his head at Murray, as a wit. Whereat the gentleman began to stare'Twas, “ Sir, your law”-and • Sir, your elo- My friends! he cried, p-x take you for your care. quence;'

(lense.' Chat, from a Patriot of diftinguith'd note, “Yours, Cowper's manner; "and“ Yours, Talbor's Have bled and purg'd me to a fimple Vote. Thus we dispose of all poetic merit ;

Well, on the whole, plain prole must be my

fate; Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's spirit. Wisdom, curse on it! will come foon or late. Cali Tibbald Shakespear, and he'll swear the Nine, There is a time when Poets will grow dull: Dear Cibber! never match'd one Ode of thine. I'll e'en leave verses to the boys at school : Lord! how we strut thro' Merlin's Cave, to see To rules of Poetry no more confin’d, No Poets there but Stephen, you, and me. I'll learn to smooth and harmonize my Mind Walk with respect behind, while we at ease Teach ev'ry thougbt within its bounds to roll, Weave laurel Crowns, and take what names we And keep the equal measure of the Soul.

My dear Tibullus!" if that will not do, (please. Soon as I enter at my country door, “ Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you:

My mind resumes the thread it dropp'd before ; “ Or, I 'm content, allow me Dryden's strains, Thoughts which at Hyde-park-corner I forgot, “And you shall rise up Otway for your pains.” Meet and rejoin me in the penfive Grot; Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace There all alone, and compliments apart, This jealous, waspish, wrong-head, rhyming race; I ask these fober questions of my heart : And much inuft Aatter, if the whim should bite If, when the more you drink, the more you To court applause, by printing what I write :

crave, But, let the fit pass o'er, I 'm wise enough

You tell the Doctor ; when the more you have, To stop my ears to their confounded Ruff. The more you want, why not with equal cale

le vain bad Rhymers all mankind reject, Confess as well your Folly, as Disease ? They treat themselves with most profound respect: The heart resolves this matter in a trice : 'Tis to small purpose that you hold your tongue; " Men only feel the Smart, but not the Vice." Each, prais'd evithin, is happy all day long: When golden Angels cease to cure the Evil, But how severely with themselves proceed You give all royal Witchcraft to the Devil;

The men who write such Verle as we can read! When servile Chaplains cry that birth and place Their own strict Judges, not a word they spare Endue a Peer with honour, truth, and grace, That wants or force, or light, or weight, or care. Look if that breast, most dirty D-! be fair ; Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place, Say, can you find out one such lodger chere? Nay tho' at Court (perhaps) it may find grace : Yet still, not heeding what your heart can teach, Such they 'll degrade; and sometimes, in its stead, You go to church to hear these Flatt'rers preach. In downright charity revive the dead;

Indeed, could wealth beltow or wit or meiii, Mark where a bold exprcílive phrase appears, A grain of courage, or a spark of Ipirit, Bright thro' the rubbish of some hundred years; The wiseft man might blush, I must agree, Command old words that long have slept, to wake, If D **** lov'd fixpence more than he. Words that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh spake ; If there be truth in Law, and Use can give Or bid the new be English, ages hence, A Property, that 's yours on which you live. (For Use will father what's begot by Sense) Delightful Abs-court, if its fields afford Pour the full ride of cloquence along,

Their fruits to you, confeiles you its lord; Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong, All Worldly's hens, nay partridge, sold to town, Rich with the treafures of each foreign tongue: His venison too, a guinea makes your own : Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine, He bought at thousands what with better wit But thew no mercy to an empty line :

You purchase as you want, and bit by bit; Then polith all with so much life and ease, Now, or long since, what diff'rence will be found? You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please : You pay a penny, and he paid a pound. “But ease in writing flows from art, not chance ; Heathcote himself, and luch large-acred men, “ Asthole move easiest who have learn'd to dance."| Lords of fat E’lham, or of Lincoln-fen,

If such the plague and pains to write by rule, Buy cv'ry stick of wood that lends them heat: Better (fayl) be pleas'd, and play the fool: Bay ev'ry pullet they afford to eat. Call, if you will, bad rhyming a dileale ; Yet there are Wighis who fondly call their own It gives men happiness, or leaves them cale. Half that the Devil o'crlooks from Lincoln town. There liv'd in primo Georgii (they record) The Laws of God, as well as of the land, A worthy member, no {mall fool, a Lord; Abhor a Perpetuity should ftand:








Estates have wings, and hang in Fortune's pow'r | With terrors round, can reason hold her throne,
Loose on the point of ev'ry wav'ring hour, Despise the known, nor tremble at th' unknown?
Ready, by force, or of your own accord, Survey both worlds, intrepid and entire,
By sale, at least by death, to change their lord. In spite of witches, devils, dreams, and fire ?
Man? and for ever? wretch! what wouldst thou Pleas'd to look forward, pleas'd to look behind,
Heir urges heir, like wave impelling wave.[have? And count each birth-day with a grateful mind?
All vast poffcfiions (just the same the case Has life no sourness, drawn so ncar its end :
Whether you call them Villa, Park, or Chase) Canst thou endure a foe, forgive a friend
Alas, iny Bathurst I what will they avail? Has age but melted the rough parts away,
Join Cotswood hills to Saperton's fair dale; As winter fruits grow mild eie they decay?
Let rising granaries and temples here,

Or will you think, my friend, your business done, There mingled farms and pyrainids appear; When, of a hundred thorns, you pull out one? Link towns to towns with avenues of oak; Learn to live well, or fairly make your will ; Inclose whole downs in walls--'tis all a joke! You've play'd, and lov’d, and eat, and drank your Inexorable Death thall level all,

Walk fober oft, before a sprightlier age

fill : And trees, and stones, and farms, and farmer fall. Comes titt'ring on, and shoves you from the stage:

Gold, Silver, Iv'ry, Vases sculptur'd high, Leave such to trifle with more grace and eate, Paint, Marble, Gems, and robes of Persian dye, Whom folly pleates, and whose follies please. There are who have not-and thank heaven there

§ 21. Epilogue to the Satires. In two Dialogues. Who, if they have not, think not worth their care.

Pope, Talk what you will of Taste, my friend, you'll Two of a face as soon as of a mind. [find

DIALOGUE Why, of two brothers, rich and restless one Fr.


T twice a twelvemonth you appear in Ploughs, burns, manures, and toils from sun tosun;

print; The other flights, for women, sports, and wines, | And when it comes, the Court see nothing in 't. All Townshend's turnips, and all Grosvenor's You grow correct, that once with rapture writ; mines :

And are, besides, too moral for a Wit. Why one like Bu— with pay and scorn content, Decay of parts, alas ! we all mut feelBows, and votes on, in Court and Parliament; Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal? One, driven by strong Benevolence of soul, "Tis all from Horace; Horace, long before ye, Shall Ay, like Oglethorp, from pole to pole; Said, “ Tories call him Whig, and Whigs a Is known alone to that Directing Pow'r

6 Tory;" Who forms the Genius in the natal hour; And taught his Romans, in much better metre, That God of Nature, who, within us still, “ To laugh at Fools who put their trust in Peter." Inclines our action, not constrains our will: But Horace, Sir, was delicate, was nice; Various of temper, as of face or frame,

Bubo obferves, he lath'd no sort of Vice: Each individual ; his great End the same. Horace would say, Sir Billy forv'd the Crown,

Yes, Sir, how small foever be my heap, Blunt could do business, H-ggins knew tbe torun; A part I will enjoy as well as keep.

In Sappho touch the Failings of the Sex, My heir may figh, and think it want of grace In rev'rend Bishops note fome small neglells; A man so poor would live without a place : And own the Spaniard did a wagsih ibing, But fure no statute in his favour says,

Who cropp'd our ears, and sent them to the King, How free or frugal I shall pass my days; His fly, polite, infinuating style I, who at some times spend, at others fpare, Could please at Court, and make Augustus smile: Divided between carelessness and care.

An artful manager, that crept between 'Tis one thing madly to disperse my store; His friend and Thame, and was a kind of fcreen. Another, not to heed to treasure more ;

But,'faith, your very friends will soon be fore; Glad, like a boy, to snatch the first good day, Patriots there are who with you 'd jest no moreAnd pleas'd if sordid want be far away. And where's the Glory! 'tivill be only thought

What is it to me (a passenger, God wot) The great inan never offer'd you a groat. Whether my vessel be first-rate or not?

Go see Rir Robert The thip itielf may make a better figure,

P. Sce Sir Robert!_hum But I that fail am neither lets nor bigger; And never laugh for all my life to come? I neither strut with ev'ry fav'ring breath, Seen him I hare, but in his happier hour Nor strive with all the tempeft in my teeth: Of Social Pleasure, ill exchang'd for Pow'r; In pow'r, wit, figure, virtue, fortune plac'd Seen hin, uncumber'd with a venal tribe, Behind the foremost, and before the last.

Smile without art, and win without a bribe. “ But why all this of avarice : I have none." Would he oblige me? let me only find I wish you joy, Sir, of a tyrant gone ;

He does not think me what he thinks mankind. But does no other lord it at this hour,

Come, come-tall I laugh he laughs, no doubt; As wild and mad--the avarice of pow'r? The only diff'rence is - I dare laugh out. Does neither rage inflame, nor fear appall; F. W'úv yes, with Scripture still you may be free; Not thc black fear of death, that saddens all ? A horfc-laugh, if you picatc, at Horrfly';

A Joke


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anger, and


A Joke on JEKYL, or some odd Old Whig, But, past the sense of human miferics,
W'ho never chang'd his principle, or wig; All tears are wip'd for ever froin all cyes;
A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age,

No check is known to bluth, no heart to chrob,
Whom all Lord Chamberlains a!low the stage : Save when they lose a question, or a job.
These nothing hurts; the: keep their fashion itill. P. Good Heaven forbid that I should blast
And wear their strange old virtue, as they will their glory,
If any ask you, “ Who's the man, fo near

M'ho know how like Whiy Ministers to Tory, “ His prince, that writes in verse, and has his ear;" And when thres Suv'reigns died, couid scarce be Why answer, Lyttelton; and I'll engage

vext, The worthy youth shall ne'er be in a rage:

Consid'ring what a gracious Prince was next. But were his verses vile, his whisper base, Have I, in filent wonder, teen ruch things You 'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's case. As pride in Slaves, and av'rice in Kings; Sejanus, Wolley, hurt oot honest Fleury; And at a Peer or Puerers shall I fret, But well may put some ftatesmen in a fury. Who starves a fifter, cr for(wears a debt ?

Laugh then at any bu: at fools or foes ; Virtue, I grant you, is an empty


you mend not those. But thall the dignity of Vice be ivit ? Laugh at your friends; and, if your friends are Ye Gods: hall Ciuber's son, without rebuke, fore,

Swear like a Lord, or Rich outwhore a Duke! So much the better, you may laugh the more. A fav’rite's porter with his mafior vie, To vice and folly to contine the jutt,

Be brib'd as oficn, and as often lie? Sets half the world, God knows, against the reft ; Shall Ward draw contracts with a fatefman's Did not the sneer of more impartial men Or Japhet pocket, like his Grace, a will? [ikill? At sense and virtue balance all again.

Is it for Bond or Peter (paltry things!) Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule, To pay their debts, or kecp their faith, like kings ? And charitably comfort knave and fool. If Blount dispatch'd himself, he play'd the man,

P. Dear Sir, forgive the prejudice of youth: And so mayit thou, illustrious Palleian! Adieu, diftinction, fatire, warmth, and truth! But shall a Printer, weary of his life, Come, harmless characters that no one hit; Learn from their books to hang himself and wife? Come, Henley's oratory, Olborne's wit! This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear; The honey dropping from Faronio's tongue,

Vice thus abus'd demands a pation's care ;
The How’rs of Bubo, and the flow of Y-ng! This calls the church to deprecate our fin,
The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence,

And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin.
And all the well-whipp'd cream of courtly sense, Let modeft Foster, if he will, excel
The first was H-vy's, F-'s next, and then Ten Metropolitans in preaching well;
The S-te's, and then H-vy's once again. A simple Quaker, or a Quaker's wife,
O come, that easy, Ciceronian style,

Outdo Landaft in doctrine-yea in life;
So Latin, yet so Englith all the while,

Let humble Allen, with an awkward Thame, As, tho' tlie pride of Middleton and Bland, Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. All boys may read, and girls may understand! Virtue may choose the high or low degree, Then might I fing, without the least offence, 'Tis just alike to virtue, and to me; And all I fung should be the Nation's Sense ;

Dwell in a Monk, or light upon a King, Or teach the melancholy Muse to mourn,

She's still the same belor'd, contented thing. Hang the sad verse on Carolina's urn,

l'ice is undone if the forgets her birth, And hail her passage to the Realms of Rest, And stoops from angels to the dregs of carth: All parts perform’d, and all her children blest! But 'tis the Fall degrades her to a whore : So Satire is no more I feel it die

Let Greatness own her, and the 's mean no more : No Gazetteer more innocent than I

Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confels, And let, a-God's name, ev'ry fool and knave Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless; Be grac'd thro’ life, and flatter'd in his grave. In golden chains the willing world the draws,

F. Why so ? if Satire knows its time and place, And hers the go!pel is, and hers the laws; You still may la th the greatest- in disgrace: Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, For merit will hy turns forsake them all; And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead. Would you know when ? exactly when they fall. Lo ! at the wheels of her triumphal car, But let all satire in all changes fpare

Old England's genius, rough with many a scar, Immortal S-k, and grave Dare.

Dragg'd in the dust! his arins hang idly round, Silent and soft as faints remov'd to hcaven, His Hag inverted trails along the ground! All ties difTolu'd, and ev'ry lin forgiven, Our youth, all liveried o'er with foreign gold, These may come gentle ministerial wing Before her dance; behind her, crawl the Old ! Receive, and place for ever near a King! [port, See thronging millions to the Pagod run, There, where no paflion, pride, or shame tranf. And offer country, parent, wife, or fon ! Lull'd with the sweet Nepenthe of a Court,

Hear her black trumpet thro' the land proclaim, There, where no father's, brother's, friend's dif- That not to be corrupted is the fbame. grace

In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in pow'r, Once break their reft, or ftir them from their place : 'Tis av'rice all, ambition is no more !




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See all our nobles begging to be slaves ! Then better sure it Charity becomes
See all our fools aspiring to be knaves ! To tax Directors, who, thank God, have plums;
The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,

Still better Ministers; or, if the thing
Are what ten thousand envy and adore : May pinch even there—why lay it on a King.
All, all look up, with reverential awe,

F. Stop! ftop! At crimes that 'scape or triumph o'er the law; P. Must satire, then, nor rise nor fall ? While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry: Speak out, and bid me blame no rogues at all. Nothing is sacred now but villany.'

F. Yes, strike that Wild, I'll justify the blow. Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain) P. Strike? why the man was hang'd ten years Shew there was one who held it in disdain.


Who now that obsolete example fears

Even Peter trembles only for his ears.

F. What always Peter? Peter thinks you mad; F. 'TIS all a libel-Paxton (Sir) will say. You make men desp'rate, if they once are bad:

P. Not yet, my friend ! ro-morrow, 'faith, it Else might he take to virtue some years henceAnd for that very cause I print to-day. (may; P. As S-k, if he lives, will love the Prince, How should I fret to mangle ev'ry line,

F. Strange spleen 10 S-k! In rev'rence to che sins of Thirty-nine !

P. Do I wrong the man? Vice with such giant strides comes on amain, God knows, I praise a Courtier where I can. Invention strives to be before in vain;

When I confets, there is who feels for fame, Feign what I will, and paint it e'er so trong, And melts to goodness, need I Scarb'row naine? Sonic rising genius sins up to my song. Pleas'd let me own, in Esber's peaceful grove

F. Yet none but you by name the guilty lash; (Where Kent and nature vie for Pelham's lore), Even Guthry saves half Newgate by a dail. The fcene, the master, op'ning to my view, Spare then the person, and expose the vice. I sit and dream I see my Craggs anew !

P. How, Sir! not damn the fharper, but the Even in a Bilbop I can spy desert;
Come on then, satire ! general, unconfin'd, (dice Secker is deceni, Rundel has a heart :
Spread thy broad wing, and foule on all the kind. Manners with candour are to Bensor given;
Ye statesmen, priests, of one religion all ! To Berkiey ev'ry virtue under Heaven.
Ye tradesinen, vile, in army, court, or hall! But does the Court a worthy man remove?
Ye rev'rend Atheists-F. Scandal! name them; That instant, I declare, he has my love :

I hun his zenith, court his mild decline ;
P. Why that 's the thing you bid me not to do. Thus Somers once and Halifax were mine.
Who stari'd a sister, who forswore a debt, Oft, in the clear still inirrour of retreat,
I never nam'd; the town 's enquiring yet. I studied Shrewsbury, the wise and great;

F. The pois'ning darme, you mean.-P. I don't, Carleton's calm senle and Stanhope's noble flame
F. You do.

Compar'd, and knew their gen'rous end the same: P. See, now I keep the secret, and not you! How pleasing Asterbury's lofter hour! The bribing statesman.-F.Hold, too high you go. How shin'd the foul, unconquer'd in the Tow'r? P. The bribd elector.-F. There you stoop How can I Pult'n

'ney', Cbrjlerfield forget, too low,

While Roman spirit charms, and attic wit? P. I fain would plcase you, if I knew with Argyle, the State's whole thunder born to wield, what;

And shake alike the senate and the field : Tell me which knave is lawful game, which not? Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the throne, Must great offenders, once escap'd the Crown, The inaster of our paffions, and his own : Like royal harts, be never more run down? Names which I long have lov'd, nor loy'd in vain, Admit your law to spare the knight requires, Rank'd with their friends, not number'd with As bearts of nature may we hunt the 'tquires ? their train; Suppose I censure-you know what I mean- And if yet higher the proud lift should end, To save a Bishop, may I narne a Dean? Still let one fay, No follower, but a friend.

F. A Dean, Sir? no ; his fortune is not made ; Yet think not, friendship only prompts my lays; You hurt a man that 's rising in the trade. I follow Virtue ; where the shines, I praise ;

P. If not the tradesman who set up to-day, Point the to Priest or Elder, Whig or Tory,
Much less the 'prentice who to-morrow may. Or round a Quaker's beaver cast a glory.
Down, down, proud satire! tho' a realm be poild, I never (to my forrow i declare)
Arraign no mightier thief than wretched l’ild; Din'd with the Man of Ross, or my Lord Mayor.
Or, if a court or country's made a job, Some in their choice of friends (nay, look not
Go drench a pick pocker, and join the mob.

But, Sir, I beg you (for the love of vice !) Have still a secret bias to a knave:
The matter 's weighty, pray consider twice; To find an honest man I bear about,
Have you less pity for the needy cheat,

And love him, court him, praise hun, in or cut. The

poor and friendless villain, than the great F. Then why to few communded? Alas į the small discredit of a bribe

P. Not fo fierce ; Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the Scribe. Find you ale virtue, and I'll find the verse.


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