At half mankind when generous Manly raves,
All know 'tis Virtue, for he thinks them knaves:

When universal homage Umbra pays,
All fee 'tis Vice, and itch of vulgar praise.
When Flattery glares, all hate it in a Queen,
While one there is who charms us with his Spleen.

60

But these plain Characters we rarely find:
Though strong the bent, yet quick the turns of mind:

Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole;
Or Affectations quite reverse the foul.
The Dull, flat Falsehood serves, for policy;
And in the Cunning, Truth itself's a lie:
Unthought-of Frailties cheat us in the Wife;
The Fool lies hid in inconfiftencies.

See the fame man, in vigour, in the gout;
Alone, in company; in place, or out;
Early at Business, and at Hazard late;
Mad at a Fox-chase, wife at a Debate;
Drunk at a Borough, civil at a Ball;
Friendly at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall.
Catius is ever moral, ever grave,
Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave,
Save just at dinner-then prefers, no doubt,
A Rogue with Venison to a Saint without.
Who would not praise Patricio's high defert,
His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
His comprehenfive head! all Interests weigh'd,
All Europe sav'd, yet Britain not betray'd.
He thanks you not, his Pride is in Picquette,
Newmarket-fame, and judgment at a Bett.

65

70

75

80

85

What

What made (say, Montagne, or more fage Charron!) Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon?

A perjur'd Prince a leaden saint revere,
A godless Regent tremble at a "Star ?
The throne a Bigot keep, a Genius quit,
Faithless through Piety, and dup'd through Wit?
Europe a Woman, Child, or Dotard rule,
And just her wifest monarch made a fool?
Know, God and Nature only are the same:
In Man, the judgment shoots at flying game;
A bird of passage! gone as foon as found,
Now in the Moon perhaps, now under ground.
In vain the fage, with retrospective eye,
Would from th' apparent What conclude the Why,
Infer the Motive from the Deed, and shew,
That what we chanc'd was what we meant to do.
Behold if Fortune or a Mistress frowns,

90

95

Some plunge in business, others shave their crowns:
To ease the foul of one opprefsive weight,
This quits an Empire, that embroils a State:
The fame aduft complexion has impell'd

105

Charles to the Convent, Philip to the Field.
Not always Actions shew the man: we find

110

Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind:

VARIATION.

After ver. 86. in the former Editions,
Triumphant leaders at an army's head,
Hemm'd round with glories, pilfer cloth or bread;
As meanly plunder as they bravely fought,
Now fave a people, and now fave a groat.

r

Perhaps

Perhaps Profperity becalm'd his breaft,
Perhaps the Wind just shifted from the East:
Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat,

Pride guides his steps, and bids him thun the great:
Who combats bravely is not therefore brave,
He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave:
Who reasons wifely is not therefore wife,
His pride in Reasoning, not in Acting, lies.
But grant that actions best discover man;
Take the most strong, and fort them as you can.
The few that glare, each character must mark,
You balance not the many in the dark.
What will you do with such as difagree?
Suppress them, or miscall them policy?
Must then at once (the character to save)
The plain rough Hero turn a crafty Knave?
Alas! in truth the man but chang'd his mind,
Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not din'd.
Aik why from Britain Cæfar would retreat?
Cæfar himself might whisper, he was beat.

115

120

125

130

VARIATION.

Ver. 129, in the former Editions:

Afk why from Britain Cæfar made retreat?
Cæfar himself would tell you he was beat.
The mighty Czar what mov'd to wed a Punk ?
The mighty Czar would tell you he was drunk.

Altered as above, because Cæfar wrote his Commentaries of this war, and does not tell you he was beat. As Cæfar too afforded an instance of both cafes, it was thought better to make him the fingle example.

Why risk the World's great empire for a Punk?
Cæfar perhaps might answer, he was drunk.

But, sage historians! 'tis your task to prove

One action Conduct; one, heroic Love.

'Tis from high Life high characters are drawn: 135 A Saint in Crape is twice a Saint in Lawn; A Judge is juft, a Chancellor juster still; A Gownman, learn'd; a Bishop, what you will; Wife, if a Minister; but, if a King,

145

More wife, more learn'd, more just, more every thing.
Court-Virtues bear, like Gems, the highest rate,
Born where Heaven's influence scarce can penetrate:
In life's low vale, the foil the Virtues like,
They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
Though the same fun with all-diffufive rays
Blush in the Rose, and in the Diamond blaze,
We prize the stronger effort of his power,
And juftly set the Gem above the Flower.
'Tis Education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclin'd.
Boastful and rough, your first son is a 'Squire;
The next a Tradesman, meek, and much a lyar;
Tom struts a Soldier, open, bold and brave;
Will sneaks a Scrivener, an exceeding knave:
Is he a Churchman? then he's fond of power: 155
A Quaker? fly: A Prefbyterian? four:
A fmart Free-thinker? all things in an hour.
Atk men's Opinions: Scoto now shall tell
How Trade increases, and the world goes well;

150

Strike off his Pension, by the setting fun,
And Britain, if not Europe, is undone.
That gay Free-thinker, a fine talker once,
What turns him now a stupid, filent dunce?
Some God, or Spirit, he has lately found;
Or chanc'd to meet a Minister that frown'd.
Judge we by Nature? Habit can efface,
Interest o'ercome, or policy take place:
By Actions? those Uncertainty divides:
By Passions? these Diffimulation hides:

160

165

Opinions? they still take a wider range:

170

Find, if you can, in what you cannot change.

Manners with Fortunes, Humours turn with Climes,

Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times.

Search then the Ruling Passion: There, alone, The Wild are conftant, and the Cunning known; 175

The Fool confiftent, and the False fincere;

Priefts, Princes, Women, no dissemblers here.
This clue once found, unravels all the rest,
The profpect clears, and Wharton slands confeft.

Wharton, the fcorn and wonder of our days,

180

Whose ruling Passion was the Luft of Praise:
Born with whate'er could win it from the Wife,
Women and Fools must like him, or he dies :

Though wondering Senates hung on all he spoke,
The Club must hail him master of the joke.

185

Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?

He 'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too.

Then turns repentant, and his God adores

With the same spirit that he drinks and whores;