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Then from the Mint walks forth the Man of rhyme, Happy! to catch me, just at Dinner-time.
Is there a Parfon, much be-mus'd in beer, 15 A maudlin Poetess, a rhyming Peer, A Clerk, foredoom'd his father's foul to cross, Who pens a Stanza when he should engross? Is there, who, lock’d from ink and paper, scrawls With defp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls ? All fly to TWIT'NAM, and in humble strain Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain. Arthur, whose giddy fon neglects the Laws, Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause : Poor Cornus fees his frantic wife elope,
25 And curfes Wit, and Poetry, and Pope.
Friend to my Life! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle fong)
Is there a bard in durance ? turn them free,
Notes. VER, 13. Mint] A place to which insolvent debtors retired, to enjoy an illegal protection they were there suffered to afford one another, from the persecution of their creditors.
Ver. 23. Arthur,] Arthur Moore, Esq:
With hona ad civility, is all Power
What Drop or Nóftrum can this plague remove!
Nine years ! cries he, who high in Drury-lane, Lullid by soft Zephyrs thro' the broken pane, Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends, Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends :
Dear Doctor, tell me, is not this a curse ?
Notes. Ver. 33. Seiz'd and ty'd down to judge,) Alluding to the scene in the Plain-Dealer, where Oldfux gags, and ties dawn the Widow, to hear his well-pen'd fianzas.
Ver. 38. honest anguish,] i. e. undissembled.
Ibid. an aching head ;) Alluding to the disorder he was then so constantly afflicted with
VER. 43. Rhymes ere he wakes,] A pleasant allusion to those words of Milton,
Dietates to me Jumb'ring, or inspires
“ The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it, 45 “-I'm all fubmiffion, what you'd have it, make it.”
Three things another's modest wishes bound, My Friendship, and a Prologue, and ten pound.
Picholeon sends to me: “ You know his Grace, " I want a Patron; ask him for a Place." . 50 Pitholeon libelld me 6 but here's a letter 66-Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better. « Dare you refuse him? Curl invites to dine, :, « He'll write a Journal, or he'll turn Divine."
Bless me! a packet. “'Tis a stranger suės, 55 6 A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Muse.” If I dislike it, “ Furies, death and rage !" If I approve, “ Commend it to the Stage.” There (thank my stars) my whole commiffion ends, The Play’rs and I are, luckily, no friends.
To plague Sir Robert, or to turn Divine..!
Cibber and I are luckily no friends.
Ver. 49. Pitholeon] The name taken from a foolish Poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol. in Horat. 1. i. Dr. Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon libelled Cæsar also. See notes on Hor. Sat. 10. 1. i.
Fir'd that the house reject him, “ 'Sdeath I'll print it, “ And shame the fools-Your int’reft, Sir, with
Lintot.” Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much: “ Not, Sir, if you revise it, and retouch.” All my demurs but double his attacks;
- 65 At last he whispers, “ Do; and we go snacks.” Glad of a quarrel, ftrait I clap the door, Sir, let me see your works and you no more.
'Tis sung, when Midas' Ears began to spring, (Midas, a sacred person and a King)
70 His very Minister who spy'd them first, (Some say his Queen) was forc'd to speak, or burst. And is not mine, my friend, a forer case, When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face? Á. Good friend forbear! you deal in dang’rous things. I'd never name Queens, Ministers, or Kings; 76 Keep close to Ears, and those let asses prick, 'Tis nothing-P. Nothing ? if they bite and kick? Out with it, Dunciad! let the secret pass, That secret to each fool, that he's an Ass:
VER. 72. Queen] The story is told, by some, of his Barber, but by Chaucer of his Queen. See Wife of Bath's Tale in Dryden's Fables.
Ver. 80. That secret to each fool, that he's an Afs:] i. c. chat his ears (his marks of folly) are visible.
The truth once told (and wherefore should we lie ?:)"
You think this cruel? take it for a rule,
Si fractus illabatur orbis,
P. Ver. 96. arch'd eye-brow,] The eye-brow is raised in the expression of insolent contempt.
Ver. 98. free-mafons Moor ??] He was of this society, and frequently headed their proceflions.