EPILOGUE

TO THE

SATIRE S,

In Two DIALGGUES.

Written in MDCCXXXVIII.

O Sacred Weapon left for Truths Defence
Sole Dread of Folly, Vice and Insolence
To all but leaven directed Hands denied
The Muse may give thee but the Gods must quide.

Ep.2 to the Satiree

EPILOGUE

FR.

TO THE

SATIRES.

Written in MDCCXXXVIII.

DIALOGUE I.

R. NOT

OT twice a twelve-month you appear
in Print,

And when it comes, the Court fee nothing in't.
You grow correct, that once with Rapture writ,
And are, befides, too moral for a Wit.

You don't, I hope, pretend to quit the trade,
Because you think your reputation made :
Like good ** of whom so much was said,
That when his name was up, he lay a-bed.
Come, come, refresh us with a livelier fong,
Or like ** you'll lie a-bed too long.

VER. 1. Not twice a twelve-month, etc.] Thefe two lines are from Horace; and the only lines that are fo in the whole Poem; being meant to give a handle to that which follows in the character of an impertinent Cenfurer,

'Tis all from Horace; etc, P.