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HERE are (I fcarce can think it, but am told) a There are, to whom my Satire feems too bold: Scarce to wife Peter complaifant enough, And fomething faid of Chartres much too rough. The lines are weak, another 's pleas'd to fay, Lord Fanny fpins a thoufand fuch a day. Timorous by nature, of the Rich in awe, I come to Council learned in the Law:

You'll give me, like a friend both fage and free,
Advice; and (as you use) without a Fee.
F. I'd write no more.



Omnino verfus ?


P. Not

SUNT quibus in Satira videar nimis acer, et ultra


Legem tendere opus; fine nervis altera, quidquid
Compofui, pars effe putat, fimilefque meorum
Mille die verfus deduci poffe. c Trebati,
Quid faciam? praefcribe.

T. d Quiefcas.

H. Ne faciam, inqui

T. Aio.


P. Not write? but then I think,

*And for my foul I cannot fleep a wink.
I nod in company, I wake at night,
Fools rush into my head, and so I write.
F. You could not do a worse thing for your life.
Why, if the nights feem tedious-take a wife:
fOr rather truly, if your point be rest,


Lettuce and cowflip wine; " Probatum eft."
But talk with Celfus, Celfus will advise
Hartshorn, or something that shall close your eyes. 20
* Or, if you needs muft write, write Cæfar's Praise,
You'll gain at least a Knighthood, or the Bays.
P. What? like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, and.


With Arms and George and Brunfwick crowd the verfe,

Rend with tremendous found your ears afunder, 25 With Gun, Drum, Trumpet, Blunderbuss, and Thun



H. Peream male, fi non

Optimum erat: verum nequeo dormire.

T. Ter uncti

Tranfnanto Tiberim, fomno quibus eft opus alto;.
Irriguumve mero fub noctem corpus habento.

Aut fi tantus amor scribendi te rapit, aude
Caefaris invicti res dicere, 1 multa laborum
Praemia laturus.

H. Cupidum, Pater optime, vires Deficiunt: neque enim quivis horrentia pilis

Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force,
Paint Angels trembling round his falling Horse?
F. Then all your Mufe's fofter art display,
Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay,
Lull with Amelia's liquid name the Nine,
And sweetly flow through all the Royal Line.
P. Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear;
They scarce can bear their Laureate twice a year;
And justly Cæfar scorns the Poet's lays,
It is to History he trufts for Praise.

F. Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still,
Than ridicule all Taste, blafpheme Quadrille,
Abuse the City's best good men in metre,
And laugh at Peers that put their trust in Peter.
Ev'n thofe you touch not, hate you.

P. What should ail 'em?
F. A hundred fmart in Timon and in Balaam:

Agmina, nec fracta pereuntes cufpide Gallos,
Aut labentis equo defcribat vulnera Parthi.





T. Attamen et juftum poteras et fcribere fortem, Scipiadam ut fapiens Lucilius.

H. Haud mihi deero,

Cum res ipfa feret: nifi dextro tempore, Flacci
Verba per attentam non ibunt Caefaris aurem:
Cui male fi palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus.


T. Quanto rectius hoc, quam trifti laedere verfu Pantolabum fcurram, Nomentanumve nepotem? "Cum fibi quifque timet, quamquam eft intactus, et odit.

The fewer ftill you name, you wound the more;
Bond is but one, but Harpax is a fscore.

P. Each mortal has his pleasure: none deny
Scarfdale his Bottle, Darty his Ham-pye;
Ridotta fips and dances, till she fee
The doubling Luftres dance as fast as she;
PF- loves the Senate, Hockleyhole his brother,
Like in all else, as one Egg to another.

I love to pour out all myself, as plain
As downright Shippen, or as old Montagne:
In them, as certain to be lov'd as feen,

The Soul ftood forth, nor kept a thought within;
In me what spots (for spots I have) appear,
Will prove at least the Medium must be clear.
In this impartial glass, my Muse intends
Fair to expose myself, my foes, my friends;
Publish the present age; but where my text
Is Vice too high, reserve it for the next:
My foes shall wish my life a longer date,
friend the lefs lament my fate.


H. Quid faciam? faltat Milonius, ut femel icto
Acceffit fervor capiti, numerufque lucernis.
P Caftor gaudet equis; ovo prognatus eodem,
Pugnis. quot capitum vivunt, totidem ftudiorum
Millia. 9 me pedibus delectat claudere verba,
Lucili ritu, nostrûm melioris utroque.
Ille velut fidis arcana fodalibus olim
Credebat libris; neque, fi male gefferat, ufquam,
Ducurrens alio, neque fi bene; quo fit, ut omnis







My head and heart thus flowing through my quill,
Verfeman or Profeman, term me what you will,
Papift or Proteftant, or both between,
Like good Erasmus in an honest mean,
In moderation placing all my glory,
While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory.
Satire 's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run a-muck, and tilt at all I meet;
I only wear it in a land of Hectors,
Thieves, Supercargoes, Sharpers, and Directors.
"Save but our army! and let Jove incruft
Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting rust!
Peace is my dear delight-not Fleury's more:
But touch me, and no minifter fo fore.
Whoc'er offends, at fome unlucky time
* Slides into verfe, and hitches-in a rhyme,




Tutus ab infeftis latronibus? "O pater et rex
Jupiter, ut percat pofitum rubigine telum,
Nec quifquam noceat cupido mihi pacis ! at ille,
Qui me commôrit, (melius non tangere, clamo)
Flebit, et infignis tota cantabitur urbe.


Votiva pateat veluti defcripta tabella
Vita fenis. fequor hunc, Lucanus an Appulus, anceps:
[Nam Venufinus arat finem fub utrumque colonus,
Miffus ad hoc, pulfis (vetus eft ut fama) Sabellis;
Quo ne per vacuum Romano incurreret hoftis;
Sive quod Appula gens, feu quod Lucania bellum
Incuteret violenta] fed hic ftylus haud petet ultro
Quemquam animantem, et me veluti cuftodiet enfis
Vagina tectus, quem cur deftringere coner,


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