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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 fcorns the Poet's lays,

It is to Hiftory he trufts for Praise.

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

P. What should ail 'em?

F. A hundred fmart in Timon and in Balaam:

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The

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.

m

T. Quanto rectius hoc, quam trifti laedere versu
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 score.

P. Each mortal has his pleasure: none deny

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Scarfdale his Bottle, Darty his Ham-pye;

Ridotta fips and dances, till fhe 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.

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9 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 food forth, nor kept a thought within;
In me what spots (for fpots I have) appear,
Will prove at least the Medium must be clear.
In this impartial glafs, my Mufe 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,
And every friend the less lament my fate.

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My

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, noftrûm 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 Erafmus 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 ruft!

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Peace is my dear delight-not Fleury's more:
But touch me, and no minifter fo fore.
Whoc'er offends, at fome unlucky time.

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* Slides into verfe, and hitches-in a rhyme,

Sacred

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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,

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

Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
And the fad burthen of fome merry fong.

y Slander or Poifon dread from Delia's rage;
Hard words or hanging, if your Judge be Page.
From furious Sappho fcarce a milder fate,
P-x'd by her love, or libell'd by her hate.
2 Its proper power to hurt, each creature feels;
Bulls aim their horns, and Affes lift their heels;
"Tis a Bear's talent not to kick, but hug;
And no man wonders he 's not stung by Pug.

So drink with Walters, or with Chartres eat, They 'll never poifon you, they 'll only cheat.

b Then, learned Sir! (to cut the matter short) Whate'er my fate, or well or ill at Court; Whether Old-age, with faint but chearful ray, Attends to gild the Evening of my day,

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y Cervius iratus leges minitatur et urnam; Canidia Albutî, quibus eft inimica, venenum; Grande malum Turius, fi quid fe judice certes:

Ut, quo quifque valet, fufpectos terreat, utque Imperet hoc Natura potens, fic collige mecum. Dente lupus, cornu taurus petit; unde, nifi intus Monftratum? Scaevae vivacem crede nepoti Matrem; nil faciet fceleris pia dextra (mirum? Ut neque calce lupus quemquam, neque dente petit bos) Sed mala tollet anum vitiato melle cicuta.

b Ne longum faciam: feu me tranquilla fenectus Expectat, feu mors atris circumvolat alis;

Or Death's black wing already be display'd,
To wrap me in the universal shade;

Whether the darken'd room to muse invite,
Or whiten❜d wall provoke the skewer to write:
In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint,

Like Lee or Budgell, I will rhyme and print.

d

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F. Alas, young man! your days can ne'er be long, In flower of Age you perish for a fong!

Plums and Directors, Shylock and his Wife,

Will club their Tefters, now, to take your life!

P. e What? arm'd for Virtue when I point the pen, Brand the bold front of shameless guilty men; Dash the proud Gamefter in his gilded Car; Bare the mean Heart that lurks beneath a Star;

Can there be wanting, to defend Her cause,

Lights of the Church, or Guardians of the Laws ? 110
Could penfion'd Boileau lash in honest strain

Flatterers and Bigots ev'n in Louis' reign?
Could Laureate Dryden Pimp and Friar engage,
Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage?

And

Dives, inops; Romae, feu fors ita jufferit, exful;

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• Quifquis erit vitae, fcribam, color.

T. O puer, ut fis Vitalis metuo; et majorum ne quis amicus Frigore te feriat.

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H. Quid? cum eft Lucilius aufus

Primus in hunc operis componere carmina morem,

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