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140

Dwell in a Monk, or light upon a King,
She's ftill the fame belov'd, contented thing.
Vice is undone, if the forgets her Birth,
And stoops from Angels to the Dregs of Earth:
But 'tis the Fall degrades her to a Whore;
Let Greatnefs own her, and fhe's mean no more, 144
Her Birth, her Beauty, Crowds and Courts confefs,
Chafte Matrons praife her, and grave Bishops blefs;
In golden Chains the willing World she draws,
And hers the Gofpel is, and hers the Laws,
Mounts the Tribunal, lifts her scarlet head,
And fees pale Virtue carted in her stead.
Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal Car,
Old England's Genius, rough with many a Scar,
Dragg'd in the duft! his arms hang idly round,
His Flag inverted trails along the ground!

150

Our Youth, all liv'ry'd o'er with foreign Gold, 155
Before her dance: behind her, crawl the Old!
See thronging Millions to the Pagod run,
And offer Country, Parent, Wife, or Son!

Hear her black Trumpet thro' the Land proclaim,
That NOT TO BE CORRUPTED IS THE SHAME. 160
In Soldier, Churchman, Patriot, Man in Pow'r,
'Tis Av'rice all, Ambition is no more!

See, all our Nobles begging to be Slaves!
See, all our Fools afpiring to be Knaves!
The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,
Are what ten thousand envy and adore:

165

So that the fenfe of the text is this, "It is all one to Virtue on "whom her influence falls, whether on high or low, because it "ftill produces the fame effect, their content; and it is all one "to me, because it ftill produces the fame effect, my love."

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VER. 165. The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,-Are what ten thousands envy and adore :] And no wonder; for the Wit of Cheats being the evafion of Justice, and the Courage of a Whore the contempt for reputation; these emancipate men from the two tyrannical restraints upon free spirits, fear of punishment, and dread of fhame.

All, all look up, with reverential Awe,

At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the Law: While Truth, Worth, Wifdom, daily they decry"Nothing is facred now but Villainy."

Yet may this Verse (if such a Verse remain) Show there was one who held it in cifdain.

170

EPILOGUE

TO THE

SATIRE

FR. "TI

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Is all a Libel-Paxton (Sir) will fay.
P. Not yet, my Friend! to-morrow 'faith
it may ;

And for that very cause I print to-day..
How should I fret to mangle ev'ry line,
In rev'rence to the Sins of Thirty-nine!`
Vice with fuch Giant ftrides comes on amain,
Invention ftrives to be before in vain ;
Feign what I will, and paint it e'er fo ftrong,
Some rifing Genius fins up to my Song.

F. Yet none but you by name the guilty lash`;
Ev'n Guthry faves half Newgate by a Dafh.
Spare then the Perfon, and expofe the Vice.

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P. How, Sir! not damn the Sharper, but the Dice?

VER. 1. Paxton] Late Solicitor to the Treasury.

VER. 11. Ev'n Guthry] The Ordinary of Newgate, who publifhes the Memoirs of the Malefactors, and is often prevailed upon to be fo tender of their reputation, as to fet down no more than the initials of their name.

VER. 13. How, Sir! not damn the Sharper, but the Dice ?] The liveliness of the reply may excufe the bad reasoning; otherwife the dice, though they rhyme to vice, can never ftand for it, which his argument requires they should do. For the dice are only the inftruments of fraud; but the question is not, whether the inftrument, but whether the aft committed by it, fhould be expofed, instead of the perfon

Come on then, Satire! gen'ral, unconfin'd,
Spread thy broad wing, and foufe on all the kind. 15
Ye Statesmen, Priests, of one Religion all!

Ye Tradesmen, vile, in Army, Court, or Hall!

Ye Rev'rend Atheists. F. Scandal! name them, Who?

20

P. Why that's the thing you bid me not to do. Who ftarv'd a Sifter, who forfwore a Debt, I never nam'd; the Town's enquiring yet. The pois'ning Dame.-F. You mean-P. I don't.— F. You do.

P. See, now I keep the Secret, and not you! The bribing Statefman-F. Hold, too high you go. P. The brib'd Elector-F. There you ftoop too low, P. I fain would please you, if I knew with what; 26 Tell me, which Knave is lawful Game, which not? Muft great Offenders, once efcap'd the Crown, Like Royal Harts, be never more run down? Admit your Law to fpare the Knight requires, As Beafts of Nature may we hunt the Squires? Suppofe I cenfure - you know what I meanTo fave a Bishop, may I name a Dean?

F. A Dean, Sir? no; his Fortune is not made, You hurt a man that's rifing in the Trade.

30

35

P. If not the Tradefman who fet up to day, Much lefs the 'Prentice who to-morrow may. Down, down, proud Satire! tho' a Realm be spoil'd, Arraign no mightier Thief than wretched Wild; Or, if a Court or Country's made à job,

Go drench a Pickpocket, and join the Mob.

40

VER. 29. Like Royal Harts, etc.] Alluding to the old Gamelaws, when our Kings spent all the time they could fpare from human flaughter, in Woods and Forefts.

VER. 35. You hurt a man that's rifing in the Trade,] For as the. reasonable De la Bruyere obferves, " Qui ne fait être un ERASME, <doit penser à être Evêque."

VER. 39. wretched Wild;] Jonathan Wild, a famous Thief, and Thief Impeacher, who was at laft caught in his own train and hanged.

But, Sir, I beg you (for the Love of Vice!) The matter's weighty, pray confider twice; Have you lefs pity for the needy Cheat,

The poor and friendlefs Villain, than the Great? 45
Alas! the fmall Difcredit of a Bribe

Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the Scribe.
Then better fure it Charity becomes

To tax Directors, who (thank God) have Plums;
Still better, Minifters; or, if the thing

May pinch ev'n there-why lay it on a King.
F. Stop! ftop!

50

P. Muft Satire, then, nor rife nor fall? Speak out, and bid me blame no Rogues at all. F. Yes, ftrike that Wild, I'll justify the blow. P. Strike? why the man was hang'd ten years ago: Who now that obfolete Example fears?

Ev'n Peter trembles only for his Ears.

56

F. What always Peter? Peter thinks you mad, You make men defp'rate, if they once are bad: Else might he take to Virtue fome years hence- 60 P. As S-k, if he lives, will love the PRINCE. F. Strange spleen to S-k!

P. Do I wrong the Man ? God knows, I praise a Courtier where I can. When I confefs, there is who feels for Fame,

And melts to Goodness, need I SCARB'ROW name? 65

VER. 42. for the love of Vice!] We must confider the Poet as here directing his difcourfe to a follower of the new system of Politics, That private vices are public benefits. SCRIBL.

VER. 51. why lay it on a King.] He is ferious in the foregoing fubjects of fatire; but ironical here, and only alludes to the common practices of Minifters, in laying their own mifcarriages on their

matters.

VER. 57. Ev'n Peter trembles only for his Ears.] Peter had, the year before this, narrowly escaped the Pillory, for forgery; and got off with a fevere rebuke only from the bench.

VER. 65. Scarb'row] Earl of, and Knight of the Garter, whose perfonal attachments to the King appeared from his steady adherence

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