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Up starts & palace, lo ! th'obedient base Admire we then what earth's low entrails ho!d,
Slopes at its foot, the woods its sides embrace, Arabian Nore's, or Indian seas intold;
The silver Thaines reflects its marble face. Allthe mad trade of fools and ilaves for gold?
Now let fome whimsy, or that Dev'l within Or popularity: our stars and strings ?
Which guides all those who know not what The mob's applauses, or the gifts of kings?
they mean,

Say with what eyes we ought at courts to gaze, But give the Knight (or give his Lady) spleen; And

pay the great our homage of amaze? Away, away ! take all your scaffolds down, If weak the pleasure that from these can spring, • For înug's the word:my dear, we'll live in town.' The fear to want them is as weak a thing.

At am'rous Flavio is the stocking thrown; Whether we dread, or whether we desire, That very night he longs to lie alone.

In either casu, believe me, we ad. nire ; The fooi whole wife elopes some thrice a quarter, Whether we joy or grieve, the iame the curse, For inarriinonal folace dies a martyr.

Surpriz'd at better, or surpriz'd at worse. Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch,

Thus, good or bad, to one extreme betray Transform themselves so strangely as the rich ? Th’unbalanc'd mind, and snatch the inan away; Well, but the poor--the poorhave the same itch! For virtuc's felf may too much zeal be had ; They change their weekly barber, weekly news, The worst of madmen is a faint run mad. Prefer a new japanner to their shoes,

Go then, and if you can admire the state Discharge their garrets, inove their beds, and run Of beaming diamonds, and refle&ted plate, (They know not whither) in a chaile and one; | Procure a taste to double the surprise, They hire their sculler, and when once aboard, And gaze on Parian charms with learned cres: Grow fick, and damn the climate like a lord. Be struck with bright brocade, or Tyrian dye,

You laugh, half beau half loven if I stand, Our birthday nobles splendid livery. My wig all powder, and all snuff iny band; If not to pleas'd, at council-board rejoice, You laugh, if coat and brecches strangely vary, To see their judgments hang upon thy voice; White gloves, and linen worthy Lady Mary; From morn to night, at fenate rolls, and hall, But when no prelate's lawn with hair-lhirt lin'd Plead much, read more, dine late, or not at all. Is half so incoherent as iny mind,

But wherefore all this labour, all this trife? When (each opinion with the next at strife, For fame, for riches, for a noble wife? One ebb and Aow of follies all my life)

Shall one whom nature, learning, birth conspir'd I plant, root up; I build, and then confound; To forin, not to admire but be admir'd, Turn round to square, and square again to round; Sigh, while his Chloe, blind to wit and worth, You never change oirt muscle of your face, Weds the rich dulness of soinc son of carth? You think this madness but a common case, Yet time ennobles or degrades cach line; Nor once to chanc'ry, nor to Hale apply; It brighten'd Craggs's, and may darken thine : Yet hang your lip, to see a seam awry! And what is fame? The mcanest have their day; *Careless how ill I with myself agree,

The greatest can but blaze, and pass awav. Kind to iny dress, my figure, not to me. Grac'd as thou art, with all the pow'r of words, Is this my guide, philoíopher, and friend ? So known, to honor'd, at the Houte of Lords ;. This he, who loves me, and who ought to imend? Conspicuous scene 1 another yet is nigh, Who ought to make me (what he can, or none) (More filent far) where kings and poets lie; That man divine who wisdom calls her own; Where Murray(long enough his country's pride) Great without title, without fortune bless'd; Shall be no more than Tuliy, or than Hyde ! Rich ev’n when plunderd, honor'd while op Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the tunne, pref'd;

Will any mortal let himself alone?
Lord without youth, and followid without power; See Ward by batter'd beaus invited over,
At home, tho' exil'd; free, tho' in the tow'r: And desp'rate misery lays hold on Dover.
In short, that rcas'ning, high imınortal thing; The calc is calicr in the mind's discale ;
Just lefs than Jove, and much above a king, Thercall men may be cur'd whene'er they please.
Nay, half in heav'n--except (what's mighty odd) Would ye be blest! delpife low joys, low gains;
A fit of vapours clouds this demi-god! Dildain whatever Cornbury disdains :

Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains.
EPISTLE VI.

But art thou one whom new opinions fway,

One who believes as Tindal leads the way, To Mr. inrrra;'.

Who Virtue and a church alike disowns; ** NOT to admire, is all the art I know Thinks that but words, and this but brick and “ To make men happy, and to keep them fo.”

stones? (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs no flow'rs of Fly then, on all the wings of wild desire, So take it in the very words of Creech ) [speech; Admire whate'er the maddest can admire.

This vault of air, this congregated ball, Is wealth thy paifion : Hence! from pole to pole, Self-center'd fun, and stars that run and fall, Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll, There are, my friend! whose philofophic eres For Indian spices, for Peruvian gold, Look thro' and trust the Ruler with his skies; Prevent the greedy, or outbid the bold: To him cominit the hour, the day, the ycar, Advance thy golden mountain to the skies; And view this dreadful all without a fear. On the broad base of fifty thousand rise ;

Add

yet

Add one round hundred, and (if that's not fair) | Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
Add fifty more, and bring it to a square. At home with morals, arts and laws amendi
for, mark th’advantage, juft to many score How shall the muse, from such a monarch, ftcal
Will gain a wife with half as many inore; An hour, and r:ot defraud the public weal?
Procure her beauty, make that beauty chaste, Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And then such friends - as cannot fail to last. And virtuous Alfred, a more facred naine,
A man of wealth is dubb'd a man of worth; After a life of gen'rous toils endur'd,
Venus fhall give him form, and Austis birth. The Gaul subdu'd, or property secur’d,
(Believe me, many a German prince is worlc, Ambition humbl’d, mighty cities stori'd,
Who, proud of pedigrce, is poor of purse) Or laws establish’d and the world reform'd,
His weaith brave Timon gloriously confounds ; Clos'd their long glories with a ligh, to find
Alk'd for a groat, he gives a hundred pounds; Th’unwilling gratitude of bafc mankind!
Or if three ladies like a luckless play,

All human virtue, to its latest breath,
Takes the whole house upon the poet's day. Finds envy never conquer'd but by death.
Now, in such exigencies not to need,

The great Alcides, ev'ry labour past, Upon my word, you must be rich indeed! Had till this monster to subdue at lait. A nobly superfluity it craves,

Surc fate of all, bencath whose rising ray Not for yourtelf, but for your fools and knaves; Each star of meaner merit fades away! Something, which for your honor they may Oppress’d, we feel the beam dire&tly beat ; And which it much becomes you to forget.(cheat, Those suns of glory please not till they let. If wealth alone then make and keep us blest, To thee, the world its present homage pays, Still

, still be getting, never, never reft. The harvest early, but mature the praile : But if to pow'r and place your pasfon lie, Great friend of liberty ! in kings a name If in the pomp of life consists the joy,

Above all Greek, above all Roman fame: Then hire a slave, or (if you will) a lord, Whole word is truth, as facred and rever'd To do the honors, and to give the word; As Heav'n's own oracles from altars hcard. Tell at your lovee, as the crowds approach, Wonder of kings ! like whein, to mortal cyes To whoin to nod, whom take into vour coach; Nonc c'er has risen, and none e'er thall rise. Whom honor with your hand: to make remarks Just in one instance, be it conteit, Who rules in Cornwall, or who rules in Berks: Your peoplc, fır, are partial in the reft: * This may be troublesome, is near the chair ; Foes to all living worth, except your own, That makes thrce members, this can choole a And advocates for folly dead and gone. may’r.'

Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow oldi Instructed thus, you bow, embrace, protest, It is the rust we value, not the gold. Adopt him fon, or cousin, at the least;

Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learn'd by rote, Then curn about, and laugh at your own jeft. And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote :

Or, if your life be onc continu'd treat; One likes no language but the Facry Queen ; If to live well mcans nothing but to eat; A Scot will fight for Christ's Kirk o’the Green : Up, up! cries Gluttony, 'tis break of day; And each true Briton is to Ben so civil, Go drive the deer, and drag the finny prey; He fivcars the mufcs met hiin at the Devil. With hounds and horns go hunt an appctite Tho' justly Greece her eldest fons adınires, $o Rustel did, but could not eat at night; Why thould not we be wiser than our fires ? Caird Happy Dog ! the beggar at his door ; In ev'ry public virtue we excel; And envy'd thirst and hunger to the poor ! We build, we paint, we fing, we dance as well; Or Thall we ev'ry decency confound,

And learned Athens to our art must stoop, Thro’taverns, stews, andbagnios take our round; Could the bchold us tumbling thro'a hoop. Go dine with Chartres, in each vice outdo

If time improve our wits as we!l as wine, Kl's lewd cargo, or Ty--y's crew;

Say at what age a poet grows

divine ? From Latian Syrens, French Circæan fealts, Shall we, or shall we not, account him so, Return'd well cravellid, and transform’d to beasts; Who dy'd perhaps an hundred years ago ! Or for a titled punk, or forcign flame,

End all dispute, and fix the year precile Renounce our country, and degrade our name? When British bards begin t'immortalize?

If, after all, we must with Wilmot own, ~ Who lasts a century can have no law, The cordial drop of life is love alonc ,

“ I hold that wit a classic, good in law." And Swift cry wildly, “ Vive la Bagatelle!" Suppose he wants a year, will you com Theman that loves and laughs, must lure do well. pound? Alicu- if this advice appear the worst, And shall we dcem himn ancient, right and sound Een take the counsel which I gave you first; Or damn to all eternity at once, Or better precepts if you can impart,

At ninety-nine, a inodern and a dunce!. Why do, I'll follow them with all my

heart. “ We Thall not quarrel for a year or two;

“ But, courtely of England, he may do." EPISTLE I. BOOK II.

Then by the rule that made thc horse-tail bare To Auguftus.

I pluck out year by year, as hair by hair, WHILE you, great patronof mankind! sustain And inelt down ancients like a heap of fáow, The balanc'd world, and open all the main ; While

you to measure merits, look in Stowe;

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And eftimating authors by the year,

He who, to seem more deep than you or I, Befow a garland only on a bier.

Extols old bards, or Merlin's prophecy, Shakespear(whom you and ev'ry playhouse bill Mistake him not; he envies, not admires ; Style the divine, the matchless, wiat you will)

And, to debase the fons, exalts the fires. Fór gain, not glory, wing'd his roving flight,

Had ancient times conspir’d to disallow And grew immortal in his own despight.

What then was new, what had been ancient now Ben, old and poor, as little seem'd to heed Or wliat remain’d, so worthy to be read The life to comc, in ev'ry poet's creed.

By learned critics of the mighty dead? Who now reads Cowley? If he pleafes yet,

In days of ease, when now the weary sword His moral pleares, not his pointed wit;

Was fheath'd, and luxury with Charics restor'd; Forget his Epic, nay Pindaric art;

In ev'ry taite of foreign couits improv'd, But ftill I love the language of his heart. All, by the king's example, liv'd and lov'd.'

• Yet surely, surely, these were famous men! Then peers grew proud in horsemanship t'excel. • What boy but hears the sayings of old Ben?

Newmarket's glory role as Britain's fell; « In all debates where critics bear a part,

The soldier breath'd the gallantries of France, • Not one but nods, and talks of Jonson's art,

And ev'ry flow'ry courtior writ Romance. • Of Shakespear's nature, and of Cowley's wit;

Then marble soften'd into life, grew warm, • How Beaumont's judgment check'd what And yielding metal Aow'd to human form: Fletcher writ;

Lely on animated canvass stole • How Shadwell hafty, Wycherly was slow;

The fleepy eye, that fpoke the melting foul. • But, for the passions, Southern, sure, and Rowe. No wonder then, when all was love and sport, • These, only these, support the crowded stage,

The willing mufes were debauch'd at court : • From eldest Heywood down to Cibber's age.'

On each enervate ftring they taught the note All this may be; the people's voice is odd;

To pant or treible thro' an eunuch's throat. It is, and it is not, the voice of God.

But Britain, changeful as a child at play, To Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,

Now calls in princes, and now turns away. And yet deny the Careless Hustand praise,

Now Whig, now Tory, what we lov'd we hate; Or say our fathers never broke a rule;

Now all for pleasure, now for church and state; Why then, I say, the public is a fool.

Now for prerogative, and now for laws; But let them own, that greater faules than we Effects unhappy from a noble cause. They had, and greater virtues, I'll agree.

Time was, a tober Englishman would knock Spenser himself affects the obsolete,

His servants up, and rite by five oclock, And Sydnevis verfe halts ill on Roman feet : Inftru&t his family in ev'ry rule, Milton's ftrong pinion now not heav'n can bound; And fend his wife to church, his son to school, Now, ferpene-like, in profe he sweeps the ground; To worship like his fathers, was his care; In quitables, angel and archangel join,

To teach their frugal virtues to his heir And God the Father turns a Ichool-divine, To prove, that luxury could never hold; Northat I'd lop the beauties from his book,

And place, on good security, his gold. Like failing Kentley, with his desp'rate hook, Now times are chang’d, ard one poetic itch Or damn all Shakespear, like th'afcêted fool Has ftiz'd the court and city, poor and rich: At court, who hates whatc’er he road at school. Sons, fires, and grandfires, all will wear the bays: But for the wits of either Charles's days,

Our wives read Milton, and our daughters plays; The mob of gentlemen who wrote with cafe;

To ahcatrcs, and to relicariols throng;
Sprat, Carew, Sedley, and a hundred more And all our grace at table is a song!
(Like twinkling stars the miscellanios o'cr') I, who fo oft renounce the muses, lye,
One fimile that solitary thines

Not-`s self e'er tells more fibs than I;
In the dry deiert of a thousand lines, [page,

When fick of muse, our follics we deplore, Or lengthen'd thought that gleams thro’ many a

And promise our belt friends to rhyme no more, Has fanctify'd whole pocnis for an age.'

We wake next morning in a raging fit, I lose my patience, and I own it ton,

And call for pen and ink, to fhow our wit. When works are cenfur'd not as bad, but now; He ferv'd a 'prenticeship who sets up fhop; While, if our elders 'break all reaton's laws, Ward try'd on puppies and the poor his Drop These fools deinand not pardon, but applaufc. Ev'n! Radclif's doctors travel first to France,

On Avon's bank, avhere Howiss ctcrnal blow, Nor dare to practise till they've learn'd to dance. If I but ask, it any wece can grow;

Who builds a bridge that never drove a pile? One tragic fentence if I dare deride,

(Should Ripley venture, all the world would "S'hich Betterton's grave action dignify'd, Or well-mouth'd Booth with emphalis proclaims But thofe who cannot write, and thofe who can, (Thu' but, perheps, a mufter roll of naincs) All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man. How will our fathers rise up in a rage,

Yet, fir, reflect, the mischief is not great; And livear, all theine is loft in George's age! These madmen never hurt the church or ftate; You'd think no fools disgrac'rt the former reign, Sometimes the folly benefits mankind; Did not fome grave examples yot reinain, Al rely av'rice taints the runeful mind. Who fcorn a jad hould teach his father skill, Allon mutu but his plaything of a pen, And, having once been wrong, will be fo Stili. He le'er rebels, or plots, like other men :

Flight

fimile)

Flight of cashiers, or mobs, he'll never mind; At length, by wholesome dread of statutes bound
And knows no losses while the muse is kind. The počts learn'd to pleale, and not to wound;
To cheat a friend, or ward, he leaves to Peter ; Mott warp'd to flatt'ry's lide; but some more nice,
The good man heaps up nothing but mere metre; Preterv'd the freedom, and forbore the vice.
Enjoys his garden and his book in quiet; Hence fatire rose, that just the medium hit,
And then a perfect hermit in his diet.

And beals with imorals what it hurts with wit. Of little ule the man you may suppose,

We conquer'd France, and felt our captive's Who says in verse what others say in prose;

charms; Yet let me show, a poet's of some weight, Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms; And (tho' no foldier) useful to the state. Britain to soft refinement lets a foe, Vhat will a child learn sooner than a song ? Wit grew polite, and numbers learn’d to flow. What better teach a foreigner the tongue ? Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught tojoin What's long or short each accent where to place, The varying verte, the full resourding line, And speak in public with some sort of grace. The long majestic march, and energy divine;

scarce can think him luch a worthless thing, Tho' ftill fome traces of our rustic vein Inlets he praise fome monster of a king; And fplay foot verse remain'd, and will remain. De virtue, or religion turn to sport,

Late, very late, correctness grew our care, To please a lewd, or unbelieving court.

When the tir'd pation breath'd from civil war. Inhappy Dryden !- In all Charles's days, Exact Racine, and Corneille's nobie fire, Rofcommon only boaits unspotted bays; Show'd us that France had tomething to admire. And in our own (excuse from courtly stains) Not but the tragic spirit was our owil, No whiter page than Addison remains.

And full in Shale pcar, fair in Otsvay fhone :
te, from the taste obscene, reclaims our youth, Put Otway fail'd to polith or refine,
And sets the passions on the fide of truth, And Aucnt Shakcipcar (carce cifac'd a line;
Forms the soft bofoin with the gentlest art, Ev'n copious Dryden wanted, or forgot,
And pours cach human virtue in the heart. The latt and greatest art, the art to bloc.
Let Ireland tell, how wit upheld her cause, Some doubt, if equal pains, or equal fire
Her trade supported, and supply'd her laws; The humbler muli of comedy require.
And leave on Swift this grateful verse engrav'd, But in known images of life, I guess

The rights a court attack'd, a poet fav’d.' The labour greater, as th’indulgence less.
Behold the hand that wrought a nation's cure,

Obferve how feldom ev'n the beit fucceed :
Stretch'd to relieve the idiot and the poor, Tell me if Congreve's Fools are fools indeed!
Proud vice to brand, or injur'd worth adorn, What pert low dialogue has Farquhar writ!
And stretch'd the ray to ages yet unborn. How Van wants grace, who never wanted wit!
Not but there are, who merit other palins ; The ftage how loosely does Aftræa tread,
Hopkins and Sternbold glad the heart with Who fairly puts all chara&ters to bed!
psalms:

And idle Cibber, ho:v he breaks the laws, The boys and girls whom charity maintains, To make poor Pinkey eat with vatt applausei Implore your help in these pathetic strains : But fill their purse, our poet's work is done : How could devotion touch the country pews, Alike to them, by pathos or by pun. Unless the Gods beftow'd a proper muse?

O you ! whom vanity's liglu bark contcys Verle cheers their leisure, verfe affifts their work, On fame's mad voyage by the wind of praiic, Verse prays for peace, or sings down Pope and with what a shifting gale your course you ply Turk.

For ever sunk too low, or borne too high! The filenc'd preacher yields to potent ftrain, Who pants for glory finds short repose; And feels that grace his pray'r befought in vain; A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows, The blessing thrills thro' all the lab'ring throng, Farewell the ftage ! if just as thrives the play And heav'n is won by violence of song. The filly bard grows fat, or falls away. Our rural ancestors, with little bleft,

There till remains to mortify a wit, Patient of labour when the end was rest, The many-headed monster of the pit ; Indulg?d the day that hous'd their annual grain, | A senseless, worthless, and unhonor'd crowd; With feasts and off'rinys, and a thankful train: Who, to disturb their betters mighty proud. The jov their wivcs, their sons, and servants share, Clatt'ring their sticks before'ten fines are spoke, Eate of their toil, and partners of their care : Cail for the farce, the Bear, or the Black Joke. The laugh, the jest, attendants on the bowl, What dear deliglit to Britous farce affords! Smooth'd every brow, and open'd ev'ry soul : Ever the tafte of inobs, but now of lords ! With growing years the pleasing licence grew, (Taste, that cternal wanderer, which fics And taunts alternate innocently few.

From heads to ears, and now from ears to eyes) But tiines corrupt, and nature ill-inclin'd, The play stands till; damn action and discourier Produc'd the point that left the sting behind ; Back Aly the scenes, and enter foot and horte; Till friend with friend, and families at strife, Pagcants on pageants, in long order drain, Triumphant malice rag'd thro' private life. Peers, heralds, bishops, crmin, gold, and lawns Who felt the wrong, or fear'd it, took th'alarm, The champion too! and, to complete thc jeit, Appealid to law, and justice lent her arm. Old Edward's armour beams on Cibber's breasts

With laughter, sure, Democritus had dy'd, 7 So well in paint and stone they judg'd of merit: Had he bereld an audience gap to side. But Kings in wit may want difcerning spirit. Let bear or cicphant be c'er 19 white,

The Hero William, and the Martyr Charles, The peoplu, sure, the people are the fight! One knighted Blackmore, and one pensione Ah lucklets poct! ftretch thy lungs and roar,

Quarles; That bear or elephant shall heed thee more; Which made old Ben and surly Dennis swear, While all its throats the gallery extends, “No Lord's anointed, but a Ruffian Bear!” And all the thunder of the pit ascends! Not with such majeftv, luch bold relief, Loud as the wolves, on Orcas' stormy steep, The forms august of King, or conqu’ring Chiet, Howl to the roarings of the northern deep. E’er swellid on marble, as in verle have thind Such is the shout, the long-applauding nutc, (In polith'd verse) the Manners and the Mind At Quin's high plume, or Oldfield's petticoat; Oh! could I mount on the Mæonian wing, Or when from court a birth-day fuit bestow'd, Your arms, your actions, your repose to ung! Sinks the lost actor in the tawdry load.

What seas you travers d, and what fields you Both enters- hark! the univerial peal !

fought! “ But has he spoken” Not a fyllable. [stare ” Your country'spcace, how oft, howdearly bought • What shook the stage, and made the people How barb’rous rage subsided at your word, Caro's long wig, flower'd gown, and lacker'd And nations wonder'd while they dropt the fu ordi Yet, left you think I rally more than teach, (chair! How, when ycu nodded o'er the land and deep, Or praise malignly arts I cannot reach, Peace stole her wing, and wrapt the world in fleefs Let me for once presume t'instruct the times, Till earth's extremes your ineditativu on, To know the poet from the man of rhymes : And Afa's tyrants tremble at your throne 'Tis he who gives my breast a thousand pains; But Verse, alas ! your majetty disdains; Can make ine fcel cach patsion that he feigos; And I'm not usid to panegyric strains : In ragc, compofe, with more than magic art, The zeal of fools offends at any time, With pity, and with terror tear my hcart; But most of all, the zcal of fools in rhyme. And snatch me o'er the earth, or thro' the air, Besides, a fate attends on all I wiite, To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where. That when I aim at praite, they say I bite. But not this part of the poetic state

A vile encomium doubly ridicules : Alone, deserves the favour of the great : There's nothing blackens like the ink of fools Think of those authors, Sir, who would rely If true, a woful likeness; and if lies, Mixe on a reader's sense than gazer's eye. “ Praise undesery'd is scandal in dilguise :" Or who shall wander where the Muses ling? Well may he blush, who gives it or receives; Who climb their mountain, or who taste their And when I flatter, let my dirty leaves How shall we fill a library with wit, [tpring? (Like journals, odes, and such forgotten thing When Mcrlin's Cave is half unfurnish'd yet? As Eusden, Phillips, Settle, writ of King ) My Liege! why writers little claim your thought, Clothe spice, line trunks, or flutt'ring in a row, I gucts; and, with their leave, will tell the fault: Befringe the rails of Bedlam and Soho. Tlc Pocts arc ( upon a Poet's word) Of all mankind, the creatures mort absurd :

EPISTLE II. Book II. The scafon when to come, and when to go, DEAR col’ncl, Cobham's, and your country's To sing, or ceale to sing, we never know ; You love a verse, take such as I can fend. [friend! And if we will rccite nine hours in ten,

A Frenchman comes,

presents you with his bor, You lose your patience just like otlier men. Bows and begins — This lad, Sir, is of Blois : Then too wc hurt ourselves, when to defend • Observe his shape how clean ! his locks hos A single verse, we quarrel with a friend ; My only lon, I'd have him sec the world :(curld! Repcat unask'd; lament, the wit's too fine • His French is pure; his voice too--you thall hez. For vulgar eves, and point out cv'ry line. • Sir, he's your fave for twenty pounds a year. But mít when firaining with too weak a wing, • Mere wax as yet, you fashion him with ease, We needs will write Epistles to the King; • Your barber, cook, upholst'rer, what you pleale: And from the moment we oblige the town, • A perfect genius at an op'ra song Expect a place, or pension from the Crown : • To say too much, might do my honour wrong, Or dubbid Hiftorians by exprefs cominand, • Take him with all his virtues, on my word; T'enroll your triumphs o'er the leas and land ; · His whole ambition was to serve a lord : Bc call'd to court to plan fomc work divine, But, Sir, to you, with what would I not part! As once for Louis, Boileau and Racine.

· Tho'faith, I fear 'twill break his mother's heart. Yet think, great Sir! (fo many virtues shown) • Oncc (and but once) I caught him in a lve, Ahihink, what Poct bcft may make them known? • And then, unwhipp'd, he had the grace to cry. Or chufe at least some minister of grace, • The fault he has I fairly shall reveal ; Fit to bestow the Laurcat's weighty piacc.

· (Could you

o'erlook but that) it is to steal.' Charles, to late times to be trantmitted fair, If, after this, you took the graceless lad, Allign'd his figure to Bernini's care ;

Could you complain, my friend, he prov'd to ladi And great Nasiau, to Kneller's hand decreed Faith, in such case, if you thould profecute, To fix him graceful on the bounding steed in I think Sir Godfrey thould decide the fuit ;

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