» Fray take them, Sir.-Enough's a feast: » Eat fome, and pocket up the reft «— What rob your boys? thofe pretty rogues! » No, Sir, you'll leave them to the hogs «<, Thus fools with compliments befiege ye, Contriving never to oblige ye.

Scafter your favours on a fop,
Ingratitude's the certain crop;

And 'tis but juft, I'll tell ye wherefore,
You give the things you never care for,
A wife man always is or shou'd
Be mighty ready to do good:
But makes a diff'rence in his thought
Betwixt a guinea and a groat.

Now this I'll fay, you'll find in me
A fafe companion, and a free;
But if you'd have me always near--
A word, pray, in your honour's ear.
I hope it is your refolution

To give me back my constitution!
The sprightly wit, the lively eye,
Th' engaging fmile, the gaiety,

That laugh'd down many a summer fun,
And kept you up so oft till one :
And all that voluntary vein,
As when Belinda rais'd my strain.

A weafel once made shift to flink
In at a corn-loft thro' a chink;
But having amply stuff'd his skin,
Could not get out as he got in:
Which one belonging to the house

('Twas not a man, it was a mouse)
Obferving, cry'd: » You 'fcape not so,
>> Lean as you came, Sir, you must go «<
Sir, you may spare your application,
I'm no fuch beat, nor his relation ;
Nor one that temperance advance,
Cramm'd to the throat with ortolans:
Extremely ready to reign

All that may make me none of mine.
South-fea fubfcriptions take who please,
Leave me but liberty and ease.

'Twas what I faid to Craggs and Child,
Who prais'd my modefty, and smil'd.
Give me, I cry'd, (enough for me }
My bread, and independency!
So bought an annual rent or two,
And liv'd-juft as you fee I do';
Near fifty, and without a wife,
I trust that finking fund, my life.
Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well,
Shrink back to my paternal cell,
A little houfe, with trees a-row,
And, like its maiter, very low.
There dy'd my father, no man's debtor,
And there I'll die, nor worfe nor better.
To fet this matter full before ye,
Our old friend Swift will tell his story.
» Harley, the nation's great fupport, «
But you may read it, I ftop short.

SATIRE VI.

The first Part imitated in the Year 1714, by Dr. SWIFT; the latter Part added afterwards.

I've often wish'd that I had clear

For life, fix hundred pounds a year,
A handfome houfe to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,

A terras-walk, and half a rood
Of land, fet out to plant a wood..

Well, now I have all this and more.
I ask not to encrease my store;
» But here a grievance feems to lie,

» All this is mine but till I die;

>> I can't but think 'twould found more clever
» To me and to my heirs for ever.
>> If I ne'er got or loft a groat,
By any trick, or any fault;
» And if I pray by reason's rules,

» And not like forty other fools:

>> As thus: >> Vouchsafe, oh Gracious Maker!
To grant me this and t'other acre:

» Or, if it be thy will and pleasure,
» Direct my plow to find a treasure : «
>> But only what my station fits,

» And to be kept in my right wits,
Preferve, Almighty Providence!
» Just what you gave me, competence:
» And let me in thefe shades compofe
» Something in verfe as true as profe;
» Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene,
» Nor puff'd by pride, nor funk by spleen «.
In short, I'm perfectly content,

Let me but live on this fide Trent;
Nor cross the channel twice a year,

To fpend fix months with statesmen here.
I must by all means come to town,
'Tis for the fervice of the crown.
» Lewis, the Dean will be of use,
» Send for him up, take no excuse «<.
The toil, the danger of the seas,
Great minifters ne'er think of thefe;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found;
It is but fo much more in debt,
And that they ne'er confider'd yet.

Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, » Let my Lord know you're come to town «. I hurry me in hafte away,

Not thinking it is levee-day;
And find his honour in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,
Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green:
How should I thrust myself between ?
Some wag obferves me thus perplext,
And fmiling, whispers to the next,

>> I thought the Dean had been too proud, »To juftle here among a croud «.

Another in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit,

So eager to express your love,

>> You ne'er confider whom you shove, >> But rudely prefs before a duke «<, I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke, And take it kindly meant to show What I defire the world should know. I get a whisper, and withdraw; When twenty fools I never faw Come with petitions fairly penn'd, Defiring I would ftand their fiiend. This, humbly offers me his cafeThat, begs my int'reft for a place →→→→ A hundred other men's affairs, Like bees, are humming in my ears. »To-morrow my appeal comes on, » Without your help the cause gone a The duke expects my Lord and you, About fome great affair, at two>> Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind, To get my warrant quickly fign'd: » Confider, 'tis my first request. «‹ ---Be fatify'd, I'll do my beft: Then presently he falls to teize, "You may for certain, if you please; >> I doubt not, if his Lordship knew "And, Mr. Dean, one word from you«

'Tis (let me fee) three years and more,