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And drop at laft, but in unwilling ears,


This faving counsel, "Keep your piece nine years." Nine years! cries he, who high in Drury-lane› Lull'd by foft Zephyrs thro' the broken pane, Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends, Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends: "The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it,4 5 "I'm all fubmiffion, what you'd have it, make it.”

Three things another's modest wishes bound, My Friendship, and a Prologue, and ten pound. Pitholeon fends to me: " You know his Grace, "I want a Patron; afk him for a Place."

Pitholeon libell'd me---" but here's a letter

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Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better. "Dare you refuse him? Curl invites to dine, "He'll write a Journal, or he'll turn Divine.”


VER. 53. in the MS.

If you refufe, he goes, as fates incline,
To plague Sir Robert, or to turn Divine.


VER. 43. Rhymes ere he wakes,] A pleafant allufion to those words of Milton,

Dictates to me flumb'ring, or infpires

Eafy my unpremeditated Verfe.

VER. 49. Pitholeon] The name taken from a foolish Poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol in Horat. I. i. Dr. Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon libelled Cæfar also, See notes on Hor. Sat. 10. 1. i. J


Bless me! a packet.---" 'Tis a stranger fues,55 "A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Muse." If I dislike it, "Furies, death and rage!"

If I approve,
There (thank my stars) my whole commiffion ends,
The Play'rs and I are, luckily, no friends.

" Commend it to the Stage."


Fir'd that the house reject him, 'Sdeath I'll print it, "And fhame the fools---Your int'reft, Sir, with


Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much: Not, Sir, if you revise it, and retouch."

All my

demurs but double his attacks;


At last he whispers,." Do; and we go fnacks." Glad of a quarrel, ftrait I clap the door, Sir, let me fee your works and you no more. "Tis fung, when Midas' Ears began to fpring, (Midas, a facred person and a King)


VER. 60. in the former Edd.

Cibber and I are luckily no friends.



VER. 69. 'Tis fung, when Midas' &c.] The Poet mean fung by Perfius; and the words alluded to are,

Vidi, vidi ipfe, Libelle!

Auriculas Afini Mida Rex habet.

The tranfition is fine, but obfcure: for he has here imitated the manner of that mysterious writer, as well as taken up his image. Our Author had been hitherto complaining of the folly

His very

Minister who spy'd them first, (Some fay his Queen) was forc'd to speak, or burft. And is not mine, my friend, a forer cafe, When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face? A.Good friend forbear! you deal in dang'rous things. I'd never name Queens, Ministers, or Kings; 76 Keep close to Ears, and those let affes prick, "Tis nothing---P. Nothing? if they bite and kick? Out with it, DUNCIAD! let the fecret pass, That fecret to each fool, that he's an Afs: The truth once told (and wherefore should we lie?) The queen of Midas flept, and fo may I.

You think this cruel? take it for a rule, No creature fmarts fo little as a fool.


Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break,85
Thou unconcern'd canst hear the mighty crack:
Pit, box, and gall'ry in convulfions hurl'd,
Thou stand'st unshook amidst a bursting world.


and importunity of indigent Scriblers; he now infinuates he fuffered as much of both, from Poetafters of Quality.

VER. 72. Queen] The ftory is told, by fome, of his Barber, but by Chaucer of his Queen. See Wife of Bath's Tale in Dryden's Fables.


VER. 80. That fecret to each fool, that he's an Afs:] i. e. that his ears (his marks of folly) are visible.

VER. 88. Alluding to Horace,

Si fractus illabatur orbis,

Impavidum ferient ruina.

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Who fhames a Scribler? break one cobweb thro',
He spins the flight, felf-pleafing thread anew: 90
Destroy his fib or fophiftry, in vain,

The creature's at his dirty work again,
Thron'd in the centre of his thin designs,
Proud of a vaft extent of flimzy lines!
Whom have I hurt? has Poet yet, or Peer,
Loft the arch'd eye-brow, or Parnaffian sneer?
And has not Colly ftill his lord, and whore?
His butchers Henley, his free-masons Moor?
Does not one table Bavius ftill admit?

Still to one Bishop Philips feem a wit?



Still Sappho--A.Hold; for God-fake--you'll offend,
No Names---be calm---learn prudence of a friend:
I too could write, and I am twice as tall;
But foes like thefe---P.OneFlatt'rer's worse than all,


VER. 92. The creature's at his dirty work again,] This metamorphofing, as it were, the Scribler into a Spider is much more poetical than a comparison would have been. But Poets fhould be cautious how they employ this figure; for where the likeness is not very striking, inftead of giving force, they become obfcure. Here, every thing concurs to make them run into one another. They both pin; not from the head [reafon] but from the guts [paffions and prejudices] and fuch a thread that can entangle none but creatures weaker than themselves.

VER. 98. free-mafons Moor?] He was of this fociety, and frequently headed their proceffions.

Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right, 105

It is the flaver kills, and not the bite.

A fool quite angry is quite innocent:

Alas! 'tis ten times worse when they repent.

One dedicates in high heroic profe,

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And ridicules beyond a hundred foes:
One from all Grubftreet will my fame defend,
And more abufive, calls himself my friend.
This prints my Letters, that expects a bribe,
And others roar aloud, "Subfcribe, fubfcribe."
There are, who to my perfon pay their court: 115
I cough like Horace, and, tho' lean, am short,
Ammon's great fon one shoulder had too high,
Such Ovid's nofe, and "Sir! you have an Eye---
Go on, obliging creatures, make me fee
All that disgrac'd my Betters, met in me.

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For fong, for filence fome expect a bribe;
And other roar aloud, "Subscribe, fubscribe."
Time, praise, or money, is the leaft they crave;
Yet each declares the other fool or knave.



VER. 118. Sir, you have an Eye] It is remarkable that amongst these compliments on his infirmities and deformities, he mentions his eye, which was fine, fharp, and piercing. It was done to intimate, that flattery was as odious to him when there was fome ground for commendation, as when there was none.

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