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Barnard in spirit, sense, and truth, abounds; 86 Pray then what wants he?" Fourscore thousand
pounds; A pension, or such harness for a slave As Bug now has, and Dorimont would have. Barnard, thou art a cit, with all thy worth: But Bug and D*, their Honours ! and so forth. 90
Yet ev'ry child another song will sing,
And say, to which shall our applause belong,
105 And foremost in the circle eye a king. Or he who bids thee face with steady view Proud fortune, and look shallow greatness through, And while he bids thec, sets th' example too? If such a doctrine, in St. James's air,
110 Should chance to make the well-dress'd rabble stare; If honcst S*z take scandal at a spark That less adınires the palace than the park; Faith I shall give the answer Reynard gave; “ I cannot like, dread sir! your royal cave; 115 Because I see, by all the tracts about, Full niany a beast goes in, but none come out." Adieu to virtue, if you're once a slave: Send her to court, you send her to her grave. Well, if a king's a lion, at the least
120 The people are a many headed beast : Can they direct what measures to pursue Who know themselves so little wbat to do?
Alike in nothing but one lust of gold,
Of all these ways, if each pursues his own,
135 But shew me one who has it in his pow'r To act consistent with himself an hour. Sir Job sail'd forth, the ev’ning bright and still, • No place on earth (he cried) like Greenwich
hill." Up starts a palace; lo, th' obedient base 140 Slopes at its foot, the woods its sides embrace, The silver Thames reflects its marble face. Now let some whimsey, or that devil within Which guides all those who know not what they
mcan, But give the knight (or give his lady) spleen, 145 “ Away, away! take all your scaffolds down, For snug's the word: my dear we'll live in town."
At amorous Flavio is the stocking thrown?-
151 Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch, Transforin themselves so strangely as the rich?
They change their weckly barber, weekly news, 155
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 lin'd, 165, Is half so incoherent as my mind, When (each opinion with the next at strife, One ebb and flow 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 once to chancery 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, 180 Great without title, without fortune bless'd; Rich ev’n when plunder'd, honour'd while oppress'd; Lov'd without youth, and follow'd without power; At home though exild; free though in the Tower; In short, that reasoning, high, immortal thing, 185 Just less than Jove, and much above a king: Nay, half in heav'n---except (what's mighty-odd) A fit of vapours clouds this demigod.
BOOK I. EPISTLE VI.
TO MR. MURRAY.
Not to admire is all the art I know, To make men happy, and to keep them so.' (Plain truth, dear Murray! needs no flowers of
speech, So take it in the very words of Creech.).
This vault of air, this congregated ball, Self-center'd sun, and stars that rise and fall,
There are, my friend! whose philosophic eyes
Admire we then what earth's low entrails hold,
If weak the pleasure that from these can spring,
Go then, and if you can, admire the state
And what is fame? the meanest have their day;
Rack'd with sciatics, mariyrd wi:h the stone,
55 See Ward, by batter'd beaux invited over, And desperate misery lays bold on Dover. The case is easier in the mind's disease; There all men may be cur’d wliene'er they please. Would ye be bless’d? despise low joys, low gains; Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains; Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains.
But art thou one whom new opinions sway, One who believes as Tindal leads the way, Who virtue and a church alike disowns,
65 Thinks that but words, and this but brick and stones? Fly then on all the wings of wild desire, Admire whate'er the maddest can admire. Is wealth thy passion ? hence! from pole to pole, Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll; 70 For Indian spices, for Peruvian gold, Prevent the greedy, and outbid the bold: Advance the golden mountain to the skies: On the broad base of fifty thousand rise; Add one round hundred, and (if that's not fair) 75 Add fifty more, and bring it to a square: For, mark th' advantage; just so many score Will gain a wife with half as many more, Procure her beauty, make that beauty chaste, And then such friends-as cannot fail to last. 80 A man of wealth is dubb'd a man of worth; Venus shall give him form, and Anstis birth. (Believe me, many a German prince is worse, Who proud of pedigree is poor of purse.)