P, BOOK II. SATIRE I. T 'HERE are (I fcarce can think it, but am told) a There are, to whom my Satire seems too bold : Scarce to wife Peter complaifant enough, And fomething faid of Chartres much too rough. I come to Council learned in the Law: F. d I'd write no more. 5 ΙΟ HORATIUS. P. Not TREBATIUS. HORATIUS. SUNT quibus in Satira videar nimis acer, et ultra Legem tendere opus; b fine nervis altera, quidquid Compofui, pars effe putat, fimilefque meorum Mille die verfus deduci poffe. Quid faciam? praescribe. TdQuiefcas. Trebati, H. Ne faciam, inquis, Omnino verfus ? T. Aio. P. Not write? but then I think, e And for my foul I cannot fleep a wink. I nod in company, I wake at night, F. You could not do a worse thing for your life. rs Why, if the nights feem tedious-take a wife; f Or rather truly, if your point be reft, Lettuce and cowflip wine; "Probatum eft." But talk with Celfus, Celfus will advise Hartshorn, or fomething that shall clofe your eyes. g Or, if you needs must write, write Cæfar's Praise, You'll gain at least a Knighthood, or the Bays. P. What? like Sir i Richard, rumbling, rough, and fierce, 20 With Arms and George and Brunswick crowd the verfe, Rend with tremendous found your ears afunder, 25 With Gun, Drum, Trumpet, Blunderbuss, and Thun der? Or H. Peream male, fi non Optimum erat: e verum nequeo dormire. T. f Ter uncti Tranfnanto Tiberim, fomno quibus eft opus alto; H. Cupidum, Pater optime, vires Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force, And sweetly flow through all the Royal Line. F. m Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still, And laugh at Peers that put their trust in Peter. n Ev'n thofe you touch not, hate you. P. What fhould ail them? F. A hundred fmart in Timon and in Balaam : 30 55 40 The Agmina, nec fracta pereuntes cufpide Gallos, T. Attamen et juftum poteras et fcribere fortem, Scipiadam ut fapiens Lucilius. H. Haud mihi deero, Cum res ipfa feret: nifi dextro tempore, Flacci "Cum fibi quifque timet, quamquam eft intactus, et odit. The fewer ftill you name, you wound the more; : P. Each mortal has his pleasure none deny The doubling Luftres dance as fast as she; I love to pour out all myself, as plain The Soul food forth, nor kept a thought within; H. Quid faciam? faltat Milonius, ut femel ico P Caftor gaudet equis; ovo prognatus eodem, Ille velut fidis arcana fodalibus olim Credebat libris; neque, fi male gefferat, ufquam, Decurrens alio, neque fi bene; quo fit, ut omnis My head and heart thus flowing through my quill, r Verfeman or Proseman, term me which you will, Papift or Proteftant, or both between, Like good Erafmus in an honeft mean, In moderation placing all my glory, While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory. Satire's my weapon, but I'm too difcreet Votiva pateat veluti defcripta tabella 65. 70 75 Sacred Vita fenis. fequor hunc, Lucanus an Appulus, anceps: S Tutus ab infeftis latronibus? " O pater et rex Nec quifquam noceat w cupido mihi pacis at ille, X Flebit, et infignis-tota cantabitur urbe. |