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MORAL

ESSAY S.

EPISTLE III.

TO ALLEN, LORD BATHURST.

ARGUMENT.

Of the Ufe of RICHES.

THAT it is known to few, moft falling into one of the extremes, Avarice or Profusion, ver. 1, &c. The Point difcuffed, whether the invention of Money has been more commodious or pernicious to Mankind, ver. 21 to 77. That Riches, either to the Avaricious or the Prodigal, cannot afford Happiness, scarcely Neceffaries, ver. 89 to 160. That Avarice is an abfolute Frenzy, without an End or Purpose, ver. 113, &c. 152. Conjectures about the Motives of Avaricious men, ver. 121 to 153. That the conduct of men, with refpect to Riches, can only be accounted for by the Order of Providence, which works the general Good out of Extremes, and brings all to its great End by perpetual Revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a Mifer acts upon Principles which appear to him reasonable, ver. 179. How a Prodigal does the fame, ver. 199. The due Medium, and true ufe of Riches, ver. 219. The Man of Rofs, ver. 250. The fate of the Profufe and the Covetous, in two examples; both miferable in Life and in Death, ver. 300, &c. The Story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end.

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EPISTLE III.

THIS Epiftle was written after a violent outcry against our Author, on a fuppofition that he had ridiculed a worthy nobleman merely for his wrong taste. He juftified himself upon that article in a letter to the Earl of Burlington; at the end of which are these words: "I have learnt that there are fome who would "rather be wicked than ridiculous: and therefore it

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may be fafer to attack vices than follies. I will "therefore leave my betters in the quiet poffeffion of "their idols, their groves, and their high-places; "and change my subject from their pride to their "meanness, from their vanities to their miseries; "and as the only certain way to avoid misconstruc"tions, to leffen offence, and not to multiply ill"natured applications, I may probably in my next, "make use of real names instead of fictitious ones."

WHO

HO fhall decide, when Doctors difagree,
And foundest Cafuifts doubt, like you and me?
You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given,
That Man was made the ftanding jeft of Heaven:
And Gold but fent to. keep the Fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the fhining mischief under ground:

5

10 But

But when, by Man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival too, its Sire, the Sun,
Then careful Heaven fupply'd two forts of Men,
To fquander These, and Thofe to hide again.

Like Doctors thus, when much dispute has paft,
We find our tenets just the fame at last.
Both fairly owning, Riches, in effect,

No grace of Heaven or token of th' Elect;
Given to the Fool, the Mad, the Vain, the Evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil. zo
B. What Nature wants, commodious Gold bestows;
'Tis thus we eat the bread another fows.

P. But how unequal it beftows, obferve;

'Tis thus we riot, while, who fow it, ftarve:
What Nature wants (a phrase I must distrust) 25
Extends to Luxury, extends to Luft:

Useful, I grant, it serves what Life requires,

But dreadful too, the dark Affaffin hires.

B. Trade it may help, Society extend:

P. But lures the Pirate, and corrupts the Friend. 30 B. It raifes Armies in a Nation's aid:

P. But bribes a Senate, and the Land 's betray'd.

In vain may Heroes fight, and Patriots rave,

If fecret Gold fap on from knave to knave.
Once, we confess, beneath the Patriot's cloak, 35
From the crack'd bag the dropping Guinea spoke,
And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew,
"Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Bleft Paper-credit! laft and beft fupply!
That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly!

I 4

40 Gold,

Gold, imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things,
Can pocket States, can fetch or carry Kings;
A fingle leaf fhall waft an Army o'er,
Or fhip-off Senates to fome diftant Shore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, fcatter to and fro

Our fates and fortunes, as the wind fhall blow:
Pregnant with thousands flits the Scrap unfeen,
And filent fells a King, or buys a Queen.

45

50

Oh! that fuch bulky Bribes as all might fee, Still, as of old, incumber'd Villainy! Could France or Rome divert our brave defigns, With all their brandies, or with all their wines? What could they more than Knights and 'Squires cenfound,

Or water all the Quorum ten miles round?

A ftatesman's flumbers how this fpeech would fpoil! 55 "Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil;

Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door;

"A hundred oxen at your levee roar."

Poor Avarice one torment more would find; Nor could Profufion squander all in kind. Aftride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet: And Worldly crying coals from street to ftreet, Whom, with a wig fo wild, and mien so maz'd, Pity mistakes for some poor tradesinan craz’d.

60

VARIATION.

After ver. 50, in the MS.

To break a truft were Peter brib'd with wine,
Peter! 'twould pofe as wife a head as thine.

Had

Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, 65
Could he himself have feut it to the dogs?

His Grace will game: to White's a Bull be led,
With spurning heels and with a butting head.
To White's be carry'd as to ancient games,
Fair Courfers, Vafes, and alluring Dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bear home fix Whores, and make his Lady weep?
Or foft Adonis, fo perfum'd and fine,

Drive to St. James's a whole herd of swine?

Oh filthy check on all induftrious skill,

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7:5

To spoil the nation's laft great trade, Quadrille!
Since then, my Lord, on fuch a World we fall,
What fay you? B. Say? Why take it, Gold and all.
P. What Riches give us, let us then inquire?
Meat, Fire, and Cloaths. B. What more? P. Meat,
Cloaths, and Fire.

Is this too little? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give:
Alas! 'tis more than (all his visions past)
Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at laft!
What can they give? to dying Hopkins, Heirs;
To Chartres, Vigour; Japhet, Nose and Ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below;
Or heal, old Narfses, thy obscener ail,

80

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With all th' embroidery plaister'd at thy tail?

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VARIATIONS.

Ver. 77. Since then, &c.] In the former Ed.

Well then, fince with the world we ftand or fall,

Come take it, as we find it, Gold and all.

They

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