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There, where no paffion, pride, or fhame transport,
Lull'd with the fweet Nepenthe of a court;
There, where no father's, brother's, friend's difgrace
Once break their reft, or ftir them from their place:
But paft the fenfe of human miferies,
All tears are wip'd for ever from all eyes;
No check is known to blufh, no heart to throb,
Save when they lofe a queftion, or a job.
P. Good Heav'n forbid, that I fhould blaft their glory,
Who know how like whig minifters to tory,
And when three fov'reigns dy'd, could scarce be vext,
Confid'ring what a gracious prince * was next.
Have I, in filent wonder, seen such things
As pride in flaves, and avarice in kings;
And at a peer, or peerefs, fhall I fret,
Who ftarves a fifter, or forfwears a debt?
Virtue, 1 grant you, is an empty boast;
But fhall the dignity of Vice be loft?
Ye gods! fhall Cibber's fon, without rebuke,
Swear like a lord, or Rich & outwhore a duke?
A fav'rite's porter with his master vie,
Be brib'd as often, and as often lie?
Shall Ward draw contracts with a ftatesman's fkill?
Or Japhet pocket, like his grace, a will?
Is it for Bond or Peter, (paltry things)
To pay their debts, or keep their faith like kings?
If Blount + difpatch'd himself, he play'd the man,
And fo may'ft thou, illuftrious Pafferan!
The ftyle of addreffes on an acceffion.
§ Two players: look for them in the Dunciad.
Author of an impious foolish book called the Oracles of Reafon, who being in love with a near kinfwoman of his, and rejected, gave himself a stab in the arm, as pretending to kill himself, of the confequence of which he really died.
Author of another book of the fame ftamp, called, Aphilofophical Difcourfe on Death, being a defence of suicide. He was a nobleman of Piedmont, banished from his country for his impieties, and lived in the utmost mifery, yet feared to practise his own precepts.-This unhappy man at last died a penitent.
But fhall a printer *, weary of his life,
Learn, from their books, to hang himself and wife?
This, this, my friend, I cannot, muft not bear;
Vice thus abus'd, demands a nation's care:
This calls the church to deprecate our fin,
And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin §.
Let modeft FOSTER, if he will, excell
Ten metropolitans in preaching well;
A fimple quaker, or a quaker's wife,
Outdo Landaffe + in doctrine,-yea in life:
Let humble ALLEN, with an aukward fhame,
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
Virtue may chuse the high or low degree,
'Tis juft alike to Virtue, and to me;
Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king,
She's ftill the fame belov'd, contented thing.
Vice is undone, if fhe forgets her birth,
And ftoops from angels to the dregs of earth:
But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore :
Let greatness own her, and fhe's mean no more,
Her birth, her beauty, crouds and courts confefs,
Chafte matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless;
In golden chains the willing world fhe draws,
And hers the Gofpel is, and hers the laws,
Mounts the tribunal, lifts her fearlet head,
And fees pale Virtue carted in her ftead.
Low! 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!
Our youth, all liv'ry'd o'er with foreign gold,
Before her dance: behind her, crawl the old!
* A fact that happened in London a few years past. The unhappy man left behind him a paper justifying his action by the reafonings of some of thefe authors.
SA fpirituous liquor, the exorbitant ufe of which had almost destroyed the lowest rank of the people, till it was reftrained by an act of parliament in 1736.
† A poor b'fhoprick in Wales, as poorly fupplied.
See thronging millions to the Pagod run,
And offer country, parent, wife, or fon!
Hear her black trumpet thro' the land proclaim,
That NOT TO BE CORRUPTED IS THE SHAME.
In foldier, churchman, patriot, man in pow'r,
'Tis av'rice all, ambition is no more !
See, all our nobles begging to be flaves!
See, all our fools afpiring to be knaves!
The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,
Are what ten thousand envy and adore:
All, all look up, with reverential awe,
At crimes that 'cape, or triumph o'er the law:
While truth, worth, wifdom, daily they decry-
"Nothing is facred now but villainy."
Yet may this verfe (if fuch a verse remain)
Show there was one who held it in difdain.
FR. TIS all a libel-Paxton (Sir) will say.
P. Not yet, my friend! to-morrow 'faith
And for that very caufe I print to-day.
How fhould I fret to mangle ev'ry line,
In rev'rence to the fins 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 so strong,
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 dash.
Spare then the person, and expose the vice.
P. How, Sir! not damn the sharper, but the dice!
*Late folicitor to the Treasury.
The ordinary of Newgate, who publishes the memoirs of the malefac tors, and is often prevailed upon to be so tender of their reputation, as to set down no more than the initials of their name.
Come on then, fatire! gen'ral, unconfin'd,
Spread thy broad wing, and fouce on all the kind.
Ye ftatesmen, priests, of one religion all!
Ye tradefmen, vile, in army, court, or hall!
Ye rev'rend atheifts. F. Scandal! name them, Who?
P. Why that's the thing you bid me not to do.
Who ftary'd a fifter, who forswore 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 fecret, and not you! The bribing statesman-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 escap'd the crown, Like royal harts, be never more run down ? Admit your law to spare the knight requires, As beafts of nature may we hunt the 'fquires ? 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.
P. If not the tradefman who fet up to-day,
Much less the 'prentice who to-morrow may.
Down, down, proud fatire! tho' a realm be spoil'd,
Arraign no mightier thief than wretched Wild §;
Or, if a court or country's made a job,
Go drench a pickpocket, and join the mob.
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?
* Alluding to the old game-laws, when our kings fpent all the time they could spare from human flaughter, in woods and forests.
§ Jonathan Wild, a famous thief, and thief-impeacher, who was at last caught in his own train and hanged.