Enough if all around him but admire,

And now the Punk applaud, and now the Fryer.

Thus with each gift of nature and of art,

190

And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt;
And most contemptible, to fhun contempt; 195
His Paffion ftill, to covet gen'ral praise,
His Life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;

A conftant Bounty which no friend has made;
An angel Tongue, which no Man can persuade;
A Fool, with more of Wit than half mankind, 200
Too rafh for Thought, for Action too refin'd:
A Tyrant to the wife his heart approves ;

A Rebel to the very king he loves;

He dies, fad out-caft of each church and state,
And, harder ftill! flagitious, yet not great.

NOTES.

VER. 200. A Fool, with more of Wit] Folly, joined with much Wit, produces that behaviour which we

205

call Absurdity; and this Abfurdity the poet has here admirably described in the words,

Too rash for Thought, for Action too refin'd: by which we are made to understand, that the perfon described gave a loose to his Fancy when he should have ufed his Judgment;

and purfued his Speculations when he should have trufted to his Experience.

VER. 205. And, harder ftill, flagitious, yet not

Afk you why Wharton broke thro' ev'ry rule? 'Twas all for fear the Knaves fhould call him Fool.

Nature well known, no prodigies remain, Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.

Yet, in this fearch, the wisest may mistake, 210 If fecond qualities for first they take.

Nature well known, no Miracles remain. Alter'd, as above, for very obvious reasons.

NOTES.

great.] To arrive at what | the world calls Greatness, a man muft either hide and conceal his vices, or he must openly and fteddily practife them, in the purfuit and attainment of one important end. This unhappy

Nobleman did neither.

VER. 207. 'Twas all for

fear, &c.] To understand this, we must observe, that the Luft of general praise made the perfon, whose Character is here fo admirable drawn, both extravagant and flagitious; his Madness was to please the Fools,

Women and Fools must like him, or he dies. And his Crimes to avoid the cenfure of the Knaves,

'Twas all for fear the Knaves fhould call him Fool. Prudence and Honefty being | terefted, and confequently the two qualities that Fools most induftrious, to mifreand Knaves are most in-prefent.

When Catiline by rapine fwell'd his ftore;

When Cæfar made a noble dame a whore ;
In this the Luft, in that the Avarice

Were means, not ends; Ambition was the vice. 215
That very Cæfar, born in Scipio's days,
Had aim'd, like him, by Chastity at praise.
Lucullus, when Frugality could charm,
Had roafted turnips in the Sabin farm.
In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil,
But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile.

220

In this one Paffion man can strength enjoy,
As Fits give vigour, just when they destroy.
Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it fticks to our last fand. 225
Confiftent in our follies and our fins,

Here honeft Nature ends as she begins.
Old Politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in bus'ness to the last;

NOTES.

VER. 213. a noble Dame a whore,] The fifter of Cato, and mother of Brutus.

VER. 227. Here honeft Nature ends as he begins.] Human nature is here hu

| mourously called boneft, as the impulfe of the ruling passion (which the gives and cherishes) makes her more and more impatient of difguife.

As weak, as earnest; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanefb'row dancing in the gout.

Behold a rev'rend fire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd
By his own fon, that paffes by unbless'd :
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies ev'ry fparrow that he fees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;'
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late:

230

235

Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my foul! 240 "Is there no hope?-Alas!-then bring the jowl." The frugal Crone, whom praying priests attend, Still ftrives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires,

For one puff more, and in that puff expires.

245

"Odious! in woollen ! 'twould a Saint provoke,

(Were the laft words that poor Narciffa spoke)

"No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace "Wrap my cold limbs, and fhade my lifeless face: "One would not, fure, be frightful when one's dead-"And-Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." 251

The Courtier smooth, who forty years had fhin'd

An humble fervant to all human kind,

Juft brought out this, when scarce his tongue could ftir,

"If where I'am going-I could ferve you, Sir? "I give and I devise (old Euclio faid, 256 And figh'd)" my lands and tenements to Ned. Your money, Sir; "My money, Sir, what all? "Why,—if I must-(then wept) I give it Paul. The Manor, Sir?" The Manor! hold, he cry'd, "Not that, I cannot part with that”—and dy'd.

And you! brave COBHAM, to the latest breath Shall feel your ruling paffion ftrong in death: Such in those moments as in all the past, "Oh, fave my Country, Heav'n!" shall be your last,

NOTES.

had the goodness not to men- I
tion the names. Several at-
tribute this in particular to
a very celebrated Actress,
who, in deteftation of the

thought of being buried in woollen, gave these her laft orders with her dying breath P.