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But rebel wit deserts thee oft in vain;
Lost in the maze of words he turns again,
And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign.

Afflicted sense thou kindly dost set free,
Oppress'd with argumental tyranny,
And routed reason finds a safe retreat in thee.

With thee in private modest dulness lies.
And in thy bosom lurks in thought's disguise;
Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise!

Yet thy indulgence is by both confess'd; Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, And 'tis in thee at last that wisdom seeks for rest.

Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name,

Hie only honour of the wishing dame, The very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame.

But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are free,

How church and state should be oblig'd to thee; At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou be!

Yet speech ev'n there submissively withdraws, From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause: Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy laws.

Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,
What favourites gain, and what the nation owes,
Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.

The country wit, religion of the town,
Hie courtier's learning, policy o' th' gown,

Are best by thee express'd; and shine in thee alone.
The parson's cant, the lawyer's sophistry,
Lord's quibble, critic's jest, all end in thee,

All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally.



THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits.
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke;
Yet in some things methinks she fails,
'Tvere well if she would pare her nails,

And wear a cleaner smock.
Hanghty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Such nastiness, and so much pride,

Are oddly join'd by fate:
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;

Al i white and black beside:
Danntless her look, her gesture prond.
Her voice theatrically lond,
And masculine her stride.
So have I seen in black and white,
A prating thing, a magpye hight,

Majestically stalk; A stately, worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, All flutter, pride, and talk.


PHRYNE has talents for mankind, Open she was, and unconfin'd, Like some free port of trade; Merchants unloaded here their freight. And agents from each foreign state Here first their entry made.

Her learning and good-breeding such,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniards or French came to her;
To all obliging she'd appear:
Twas,' Si Signior', 'twas, * yaw M;ynheer'
'Twas, * S'il vous plait, Monsienr.'

Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
Still changing names, religion, climes,

At length she turns a bride:
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades.
She shines the first of batter'd jades,

And flutters in her pride.

So have I known those insects fair
(Which curious Germaus hold so rare)

Still vary shapes and dyes;
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,

Then painted butterflies.



PARSON, these things in thy possessing,
Are better than the bishop's blessing:
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need:
October store, and best Virginia,
Tythe pig, and mortuary guinea:
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd;
A large concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the first, when prince:
A chronicle of ancient standing;
A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in:
The polyglott—three parts,—my text,
Howbeit,—likewise—now to my next (

'La here the Septuagint,—and Panl,
To sum the whole,~the close of all.

He that has these, may pass his life, Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife; On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;

And fast on Fridays if he will;

Toast church and queen, explain the news,
Talk with church-wardens about pews;
Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at Doctor Sw*%




Having proposed to write some pieces on human life and manners, such as (to use my lord Bacon's expression) * come home to men's business and bosoms,' I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering man in the abstract, his nature, and his state; since, to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being.

The science of human nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world. It is there, fore in the anatomy of the mind as in that of the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our observation. The disputes are all upon these last; and I will venture to say, they have less sharpened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have diminished the practice more than advanced the theory of morality. If I could

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