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

At am'rous Flavio is the k stocken thrown? That very night he longs to lie alone.

The Fool,whose Wife elopes fome thrice a quarter; For matrimonial solace dies a martyr. 151 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 weekly Barber, weekly News, Prefer a new Japanner, to their shoes, 156 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

? 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 lind, Is half so incoherent as my Mind, 166

Notes. lines much more spirited than the original. In Horace, the people's inconftancy of temper is satirized only in a simple ex

• Aestuat, et vitae disconvenit ordine toto;

+ Diruit, aedificat, mutat quadrata rotundis ?

" Infanire putas folennia me, neque rides,

Nec w medici credis, nec curatoris egere

A praetore dati; rerum' tutela mearum

Cum fis, et prave sectum stomacheris ob unguem,

De te pendentis, te respicientis amici.

Ad fummam, sapiens uno y minor eft jove,

dives,

*Liber," honoratus, pulcher,' rex denique regum;

Praecipue fanus, nifi cum pituita molefta eft

NOTES. posure of the case. Here the ridicule on the folly is heightened by an humourous picture of the various objects of that inconHancy.

VER, 182. when plunder'd] i, e. By the Public; which has

When (each opinion with the next at strife,
One S ebb and Aow of follies all my life)
I ' plant, root up; I build, and then confound;
Turn round to square, and square again to round;
- You never change one muscle of your face, 171
You think this Madness but a common case,
Nor Wonce to Chanc'ry, nor to Hale apply;
Yet hang your lip, to see a Seam awry!
Careless how ill I with myself agree, 175
Kind to my dress, my figure, not to Me.
Is this my*Guide, Philosopher, and Friend?
This he, who loves me, and who ought to mend;
Who ought to make me (what he can, or none,)
That Man divine whom Wisdom calls her own;
Great without Title, without Fortune bless’d; 1 81
Rich' ev’n when plunder’d, ” honour'd while op-

press’d;
Lov’da without youth, and follow'd without pow'r;
At home, tho' exild; b free, tho’ in the Tower;
In short, that reas’ning, high, immortal Thing, 185
Juste less than Jove, and d much above a King,
Nay, half in heav'n---`except (what's mighty odd)
A Fit of Vapours clouds this Demy-God?

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.: NOTE s. rarely her revenge on her plunderers; and when she has, more sarely knows how to use it.

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THE

SIXTH EPISTLE

OF THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

H OR A CE.

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