SATIRES AND EPISTLES. EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT; BEING THE PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES. P. SHUT, shut the door, good John !* fatigued I said, Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. Fire in each eye and papers in each hand, They pierce my thickets, through my grot they glide; By land, by water, they renew the charge, They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. 9 Then from the Mint+ walks forth the man of rhyme, Happy! to catch me just at dinner-time. Is there a parson much bemused in beer, A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, * John Searle, Pope's servant. + Formerly a sanctuary for insolvent debtors in Southwark. 21 All fly to Twit'nam,* and in humble strain Friend to my life, (which did not you prolong, If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead. With honest anguish and an aching head; This saving counsel,- Keep your piece nine years.' 40 'Nine years!' cries he, who high in Drurylane, Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane, Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends, Obliged by hunger and request of friends: The piece, you think, is incorrect? why, take it; I'm all submission; what you'd have it, make it.' Three things another's modest wishes bound, My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound. Pitholeon sends to me :-' "You know his Grace; I want a patron; ask him for a place.' 50 Pitholeon libell'd me :-'but here's a letter Informs you, sir, 'twas when he knew no better. Dare you refuse him? Curll invites to dine; He'll write a Journal, or he'll turn divine.' Pope's favourite mode of writing Twickenham. Bless me! a packet.-"'Tis a stranger sues, A virgin tragedy, an orphan Muse.'* If I dislike it, "Furies, death, and rage!' If I approve, Commend it to the stage.' There, thank my stars! my whole commission ends; The players and I are luckily no friends. Fired that the house reject him,—“’Sdeath, I'll print it, 60 And shame the fools-Your interest, sir, with Lintot.'+ Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much : 'Not, sir, if you revise it and retouch.' 70 All my demurs but double his attacks; I'd never name queens, ministers, or kings. 80 The truth once told, (and wherefore should we lie ?) The queen of Midas slept, and so may I. You think this cruel? take it for a rule, No creature smarts so little as a fool. Alluding to a tragedy called 'The Virgin Queen,' by Mr. R. Barford. + See Dunciad, Book I., line 40, note. Lines 69-82 allude to the King, Queen Caroline, and Sir Robert Walpole. |