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If honeft S*z take scandal at a Spark, That less admires the 2 Palace than the Park: Faith I hall give the answer a Reynard gave: “ I cannot like, dread Sir, your Royal Cave: 115 « Because I fee, by all the tracks about, “ Full many a Beast goes in, but none come out.” Adieu to Virtue, if you're once a Slave: Send her to Court, you send her to her grave.

Well, if a King's a Lion, at the least 120 The People are a many-headed Beast: Can they direct what measures to pursue, Who know themselves so little what to do? Alike in nothing but one Luft of Gold, Just half the land would buy, and half be sold : 125


son why the People shoald not be followed is because

Bellua multorum eft capitum. nam quid sequar, aut quem? they are so divers in their pursuits (says Horace) that one cannot follow this man without being condemned by that. The imitator says, they all go on one common principle, the luft of gold. This inaccuracy, tho' Horace has a little of it, yet he has however artfully disguised it, by speaking of the various objects of this one Passion, avarice, as of so many various passions,

Pars hominum gestit conducere publica: sunt qui, etc.
Cruftis et pomis

Multis occulto, etc. but his imitator has unwarily drawn them to a point, by the introductory addition of the lines above,

Alike in nothing, etc.

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Si dixit dives; h lacus et mare sentit amorem

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VER. 126. Their Country's wealth our mightier Misers drain, ] The undertakers for advancing Loans to the Public on the Funds. They have been commonly accused of making it a job. But in fo corrupt times, the fault is not always to be imputed to a Ministry: it having been found, on trial, that the wisest and most virtuous citizen of this or any other age, with every requisite knowledge in such matters, and supported by all the weight an honest Admi

Their · Country's wealth our mightier Misers drain,
Or cross, to plunder Provinces, the Main;
The reft, fome farm the Poor-box, fome the Pews;
Some keep Assemblies, and would keep the Stews;
Some - with fat Bucks on childless Dotards fawn ; 130
Some win rich Widows by their Chine and Brawn;
While with the silent growth of ten per cent,
In dirt and darkness,

e hundreds stink content. Of all these ways, if each pursues his own, Satire be kind, and let the wretch alone: 135 But show me one who has it in his pow'r, To act consistent with himself an hour. Sir Job & fail'd forth, the ev’ning bright and still, “ No place on earth (he cry's) like Greenwich hill !"

Up starts a Palace, lo, th' obedient base 140 Slopes at its foot, the woods its fides embrace, The silver Thames reflects its marble face. Now let some whimsy, or that i Dev'l within Which guides all those who know not what they

mean, But give the Knight (or give his Lady) spleen; 145

Notes. nistration could afford him, was, they say, unable to abolish this inveterate mystery of iniquity.

VER. 143. Now let some whimsy, etc.] This is very fpirited, but much inferior to the elegance of the Original,

Cui si vitiofa Libie's Fecerit aufpicium which no modern imitation can reach.

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Tolletis, fabri. k lectus genialis in aula est ?

Nil ait effe prius, melius nil coelibe vita :

Si non eft, jurat bene solis effe maritis.

Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea nodo?

Quid " pauper? ride: mutat o coenacula, lectos,

Balnea, P tonfores; conducto navigio aeque

Nauseat, ac locuples quem ducit priva triremis.

9 Si curatus inaequali tonsore capillos

Occurro; rides. fi forte subucula pexae

Trita fubeft tunicae, vel fi toga diffidet impar;

Rides. quid, 'mea Cum pugnat sententia secum ;

Quod petiit, fpernit; repetit quod nuper omifit;

* Aeftuat, et vitae difconvenit ordine toto;


Ver. 155. They change their weekly Barber, etc.) These six lines much more spirited than the Original. In that, the inconftancy of temper in the common people is fati

“ Away, away ! take all your scaffolds down,
« For Snug's the word;: My dear! we'll live in Town.”

At am'rous Flavio is the k stocken thrown?
That very night he longs to lie alone.
1 The Fool whose Wife elopes fome thrice a quarter,
For matrimonial solace dies a martyr.

Did ever m Proteus, Merlin, any witch,
Transform themselves so strangely as the Rich?
Well, but the "Poor-The Poor have the same itch;
They change their o weekly Barber, weekly News,
Prefer a new Japanner to their shoes,

Discharge their Garrets, move their beds, and run
(They know not whither) in a Chaise and one;
They P hire their sculler, and when once aboard,
Grow fick, and damn the climate-like a Lord. 160

9 You laugh, half Beau half Sloven if I stand,
My wig all powder, and all snuff my band;
You laugh, if coat and breeches strangely vary,
White gloves, and linen worthy Lady Mary!
But when ' no Prelate's Lawn with hair-shirt lin'd,
Is half so incoherent as my Mind,

When (each opinion with the next at strife,
One s ebb and flow of follies all my life)

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rized only in a fimple exposure of the case. Here the ridicule on the folly is heightened by a ridiculous reprefentation of each circumstance that is the object of it.

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