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Sure, if I fpare the Minister, no rules
Of Honour bind me, not to maul his Tools;
Sure, if they cannot cut, it may be faid
His Saws are toothless, and his Hatchets Lead.


It anger'd TURENNE, once upon a day,
To fee a Footman kick'd that took his pay:

But when he heard th' Affront the Fellow gave,
Knew one a Man of honour, one a Knave;



The prudent Gen'ral turn'd it to a jeft,

And begg'd, he'd take the pains to kick the reft: 155
Which not at prefent having time to do---

F. Hold Sir! for God's-fake where's th' Affront to


Against your worship when had S---k writ ?
Or P-ge pour'd forth the Torrent of his Wit ?.
Or grant the Bard whofe diftich all commend
[In Pow'r a Servant, out of Pow'r a friend]
To W--le guilty of fome venial fin;
What's that to you who ne'er was out nor in?



and under difcipline, what must we think of their diforders fince they were disbanded and become free-booters? No virtue nor merit hath efcaped them. They have made a great City in the South, too much resemble another in the North, where the products of night and darkness are difcharged from Garrets on every honeft man that comes within their reach.


VER. 160. the Bard] A verse taken out of a poem t☛ Sir R. W. P.




The Priest whofe Flattery be-dropt the Crown, How hurt he you? he only ftain'd the Gown. And how did, pray, the florid Youth offend, Whofe Speech you took, and gave it to a Friend? P. Faith, it imports not much from whom it came ; Whoever borrow'd, could not be to blame, Since the whole Houfe did afterwards the fame. Let Courtly Wits to Wits afford supply, As Hog to Hog in huts of Weftphaly; If one, thro' Nature's Bounty or his Lord's, Has what the frugal, dirty foil affords, From him the next receives it, thick or thin, As mess almost as it came in pure ; The bleffed benefit, not there confin'd, Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind; From tail to mouth, they feed and they carouse: The last full fairly gives it to the House.

F. This filthy fimile, this beaftly line Quite turns my ftomach


And all your courtly Civet-cats can vent,
Perfume to you, to me is Excrement.


P. So does Flatt'ry mine;


VER. 164. The Prieft etc.] Spoken not of any particular prieft, but of many priefts. P.

VER. 166. And how did, etc.] This feems to allude to a complaint made 71. of the preceding Dialogue, P.


But hear me further - Japhet, 'tis agreed,
Writ not, and Chartres fcarce could write or read,
In all the Courts of Pindus guiltless quite ;

But Pens can forge, my Friend, that cannot write;
And muft no Egg in Japhet's face be thrown,
Because the Deed he forg'd was not my own?
Muft never Patriot then declaim at Gin,
Unless, good man! he has been fairly in?
No zealous Paftor blame a failing Spouse,
Without a staring Reason on his brows?
And each Blafphemer quite efcape the rod,
Because the infult's not on Man, but God?

Afk you what Provocation I have had ?
The ftrong Antipathy of Good to Bad.
When Truth or Virtue an Affront endures,


VER. 185. in the MS.

I grant it, Sir; and further, 'tis agreed,
Japhet writ not, and Chartres fcarce could read.


Th' Affront is mine, my friend, and should be yours.
Mine, as a Foe profess'd to false Pretence, 201
Who think a Coxcomb's Honour like his Sense;
Mine, as a Friend to ev'ry worthy mind;
And mine as Man, who feel for all mankind.



VER. 185. Japhet - Chartres] See the Epistle to Lord Bathurst. P.

VER. 204. And mine as Man, who feel for all mankind.j *S

F. You're ftrangely proud.


P. So proud, I am no Slave : So impudent, I own myself no Knave : So odd, my Country's Ruin makes me grave. Yes, I am proud; I muft be proud to fee

Men not afraid of God, afraid of me:

Safe from the Bar, the Pulpit, and the Throne, 210 Yet touch'd and fham'd by Ridicule alone.

O facred weapon! left for Truth's defence, Sole Dread of Folly, Vice, and Infolence! To all but Heay'n-directed hands deny'd,

The Muse may give thee, but the Gods must guide :


From Terence: "Homo fum: humani nihil a me alienum "puto.". P.

VER. 208. Yes, I am proud; etc.] In this ironical exultation the Poet infinuates a fubject of the deepest humiliation, VER, 211. Yet touch'd and sham'd by Ridicule alone.] The Paffions are given us to awake and support Virtue. But they frequently betray their truft, and go over to the interefts of Vice. Ridicule, when employed in the cause of Virtue, fhames and brings them back to their duty. Hence the ufe and importance of Satire.

VER. 214. To all but Heav'n-directed bands] "The "Citizen (fays Plato, in his fifth book of Laws) who does "no injury to any one, without queftion, merits our efteem. He, who, not content with being barely just himfelf, oppofes the courfe of injustice, by profecuting "it before the Magiftrate, merits our efteem vaftly more. "The firft difcharges the duty of a fingle Citizen; but "the other does the office of a Body. But he whose zeal "ftops not here, but proceeds to ASIST THE MAGISTRATE

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Rev'rent I touch thee! but with honest zeal;
To roufe the Watchmen of the public Weal,
To Virtue's work provoke the tardy Hall,
And goad the Prelate slumb'ring in his Stall.
Ye tinfel Infects! whom a Court maintains,
That counts your Beauties only by your Stains,
Spin all your Cobwebs o'er the Eye of Day!
The Muse's wing shall brush you all away:


" IN PUNIHING is the most precious bleffing of Society. "This is the PERFECT CITIZEN, to whom we should "adjudge the prize of Virtue."

-VER. 220. Ye Infects-The Mufe's wing shall brush yen all away:] This it did very effectually; and the memory of them had been now forgotten, had not the Poet's charity, for a while, protracted their miferable Being. There is now in his library a complete collection of all the horrid Libels written and published against him ;

The tale reviv'd, the lye fo oft o'erthrown,
Th' imputed trash, and dulness not his own.;
The morals blacken'd, when the writings 'fcape,
The libell'd Perfon, and the pictur'd shape.
Thefe he had bound up in feveral volumes, according to
their various fizes, from folios down to duodecimos; and
to each of them hath affixed this motto out of the book of



Bebold, my defire is, that mine adversary should write a book. Surely I should take it upon my shoulder, and bind it as a crown to me. Ch. xxxi. 35, 36.

VER. 222. Cobwebs] Weak and flight sophistry against virtue and honour. Thin colours over vice, as unable to hide the light of Truth, as cobwebs to shade the fun. Ba

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