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See thronging millions to the Pagod run,
And offer country, parent, wife, or fon ;
Hear her black trumpet thro' the land proclaim,
That not to be corrupted is the fhame.

In foldier, churchman, patriot, man in pow'r,
'Tis av'rice all, ambition is no more!
See all our nobles begging to be flaves!
See all our fools afpiring to be knaves!
The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,
Are what ten thoufand envy and adore :
All, all look up, with reverential awe,
At times that 'fcape or triumph o'er the law;
While truth, worth, wifdom, daily they decry 3
Nothing is facred now but villany."

Yet may this verfe (if such a verse remain).
Shew there was one who held it in difdain.

DIALOGUE II.

F. 'TIS all a libel-Paxton (Sir) will fay,
P. Not yet, my friend! to-morrow 'faith it
And for that very caufe I print to-day.
How should I fret to mangle ev'ry line,

In rev'rence to the fins of Thirty-nine !
Vice with fuch giant flrides comes on amain,
Invention ftrives to be before in vain ;
Feign what I will, and paint it e'er fo ftrong,
Some rifing genius fins up to my fong..

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F. Yet none but you by name the guilty lafh;
Even Guthry faves half Newgate by a dafh.
Spare then the perfon, and expofe the vice.

P. How, Sir! not damn the fharper, but the dice
Come on then, fatire! general, unconfin'd,
Spread thy broad wing, and foufe on all the kind..
Ye ftatefmen, priefts, of one religion all!

Ye tradefmen, vile, in army, court, or hall!

Ye rev'rend Atheists. F. Scandal! name them; who?
P. Why that's the thing you bid me not to do.
Who ftarv'd a fifter, who forfwore a debt,
I never nam'd; the town's enquiring yet.

F. The pois'ning dame you mean,-P. I don't..
F. You do.

P. See, now I keep the fecret, and not you!
The bribing statesman.-F. Hold, too high you go.
P. The brib'd elector.-F. There you ftoop too low..
P. I fain would please you, if I knew with what ;.
Tell me which knave is lawful game, which not:
Muft great offenders, once escap'd the Crown,
Like royal harts, be never more run down ?
Admit your law to fpare the knight requires,
As beafts of nature may we hunt the 'fquires ?~
Suppofe I cenfure-you know what I mean-
To fave a Bishop, may I name a Dean?

F. A Dean, Sir? no; his fortune is not made; You hurt a man that's rifing in the trade.

P. If

P. If not the tradefman who fet up to-day, Much lefs the 'prentice who to-morrow may, Down, down, proud fatire! tho' a realm be spoil'd, Arraign no mightier thief than wretched Wild; Or, if a court or country's made a job, Go drench a pickpocket, and join the mob. But, Sir, I beg you (for the love of vice!) The matter's weighty, pray confider twice; Have you lefs pity for the needy cheat,

The

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poor and friendlefs villain, then the great ? Alas! the fmall difcredit of a bribe

Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the Scribe,
Then better fure it Charity becomes

To tax Directors, who, thank God, have plums;
Still better minifters; or, if the thing

May pinch even there

F. Stop! ftop!

why lay it on a king,

P. Muft fatire, then, nor rife nor fall ?

Speak out, and bid me blame no rogues at all.

F. Yes, ftrike that Wild, I-ll juftify the blow. P. Strike? why the man was hang'd ten years ago; Who now that obfolete example fears?

Even Peter trembles only for his ears.

F. What always Peter? Peter thinks you mad ; -You make men defp'rate, if they once are bad: Elfe might he take to virtue fome years hence→ P. As S-k, if he lives, will love the Prince. F. Strange fpleen to Sk!

P. De

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God knows, I praise a Courtier where I can.
When I confefs, there is who feels for fame,
And melts to goodness, need I Scarb'row name?
Pleas'd let me own, in Efher's peaceful grove
(Where Kent and nature vie for Pelham's love),
The fcene, the mafter, op'ning to my view,
I fit and dream I fee my Craggs anew!

Even in a Bishop I can fpy defert ;

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Secker is decent, Rundel has a heart :
Manners with candour are to Benfon given;
To Berkley, ev'ry virtue under Heaven.

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But does the Court a worthy man remove That inftant, I declare, he has my love; I fhun his zenith, court his mild decline ; Thus Somers once, and Halifax were mine. Oft, in the clear ftill mirrour of retreat, I ftudied Shrewsbury, the wife and great; Carleton's calm fenfe, and Stanhope's noble flame Compar'd, and knew their gen'rous end the fame : How pleafing Atterbury's fofter hour!

How fhin'd the foul, unconquer'd in the Tow'r:
How can I Pult'ney. Chefterfield forget,

While Roman spirit charms, and attic wit ?
Argyle, the State's whole thunder born to wield,
And fhake alike the fenate and the field:
Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the throne,
The mafter of our paffions, and his own:

Names

Names, which I long have lov'd, nor lov'd in vain, Rank'd with their friends, not number'd with their train; And if yet higher the proud lift should end,

Still let me fay, No follower, but a friend.

Yet think not, friendship only prompts my lays;
I follow Virtue; where fhe fhines, I praife;
Point fhe to Prieft or Elder, Whig or Tory,
Or round a Quaker's beaver caft a glory.
I never (to my forrow I declare)

Din'd with the Man of Rofs, or my Lord Mayor

Some in their choice of friends (nay, look not grave)

Have ftill a fecret bias to a knave:

To find an honeft man I beat about,

And love him, court him, praise him, in or out,
F. Then why fo few commended?

P. Not fo fierce;

Find you the virtue, and I'll find the verse.
But random praise-the task can ne'er be done 3
Each mother afks it for her booby fon.
Each widow afks it for the beft of men;

For him the weeps, for him the weds again.
Praife cannot floop, like fatire, to the ground:
The number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd
Enough for half the greateft of thefe days;
To 'fcape my cenfure, not expect my praife,
Are they not rich? what more can they pretend?
Dare they to hope a poet for their friend—

What

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