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The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red,
Great Villers lies--alas ! how chang'd from him, 305
That life of Pleasure, and that soul of whim!
Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove,
The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and Love;
Or just as gay, at Council, in a ring
'Of mimick'd Statesinen, and their merry King.

No Wit to flatter, left of all his store !
No Fool to laugh at, which he valued more,
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends,
And Fame; this lord of useless thousands ends.

His Grace's fate fage Cutler could foresee, 315 And well (he thought) advis’d him, “ Live like me!" As well his Grace reply'd, “ Like you, Sir John ? “ That I can do, when all I have is gone." Resolve me, Reason, which of these are worse, Want with a full, or with an empty purse ? 320 Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confess’d, Arise, and tell me, was thy death more bless’d? Cutler saw tenants break, and houses fall, For very want; he could not build a wall. His only daughter in a stranger's power,

325 For very want; he could not pay a dower. A few gray hairs his reverend temples crown'd, 'Twas very want that sold them for two pound. What! even deny'd a cordial at his end, Banishid the Doctor, and expell’d the friend ? What but a want, which you perhaps think mad, Yet numbers feel, the want of what he had !


Cutler and Brutus, dying, both exclaim,
“ Virtue ! and Wealth! what are ye but a name !"

Say, for such worth are other worlds prepar'da 335
Or are they both, in this, their own reward ?
A knotty point! to which we now proceed.
But you are tir’d-I'll tell a tale-B. Agreed.

P. Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies;

There dwelt a Citizen of fober fame,
A plain good man, and Balaam was his name;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth;
His word would pass for more than he was worth.
One folid dith his week-day meal affords,

An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's :
Constant at Church, and Change; his gains were sure,
His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.

The Devil was piqu'd fuch faintship to behold,
And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old :

But Satan now is wiser than of yore,
And tempts by making rich, not making poor.

Rouz'd by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds fweep
The surge, and plunge his Father in the deep;
Then full against his Cornish lands they roar,

And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky shore.
Sir Balaam


he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes :

* Live

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Ver. 337. In the former Editions;

That knotty point, my Lord, shall I discuss,
Or tell a tale?-A Tale--It follows thus.

" Live like yourself,” was soon my Lady's word ; And lo! two puddings smoak'd upon the board. 360

Anleep and naked as an Indian lay, An honest factor stole a Gem

away: He pledg'd it to the knight, the knight had wit, So kept the Diamond, and the rogue was bit. Some scruple rose, but thus he eas’d his thought, 365 “ I'll now give fixpence where I gave a groat; “ Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice" And am so clear too of all other vice.”

The Tempter saw his time; the work he ply'd; Stocks and Subscriptions pour on every side, 370 Till all the Dæmon makes his full defcent In one abundant shower of Cent per Cent, Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole, Then dubs Director, and secures his soul. Behold Sir Balaam now a man of fpirit,

375 Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit; What late he call’d a Blessing, now was Wit, And God's good Providence, a lucky Hit. Things change their titles, as our manners turn : His Compting-house employ'd the Sunday-morn: 380 Seldom at Church, ('twas such a busy life) But duly sent his family and wife. There (so the Devil ordain’d) one Christmas-tide My good old Lady catch'd a cold, and dy'd.

A Nymph of Quality admires our Knight ; 385 He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite : Leaves the dull Cits, and joins (to please the Fair) The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air ;



First, for his Son a gay Commission buys,
Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies :
His Daughter flaunts a Viscount's tawdry wife;
She bears a Coronet and P-x for life.
In Britain's Senate he a seat obtains,
And one more Pensioner St. Stephen gains.
My Lady falls to play: fo bad her chance,
He must repair it; takes a bribe from France;
The House impeach him, Coningsby harangues;
The Court forsake him, and Sir Balaam hangs;
Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own,
His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the Crown :
The Devil and the King divide the prize,
And fad Sir Balaam curses God and dies.



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THE Vanity of Expence in People of Wealth and

Quality. The abuse of the word Taste, ver. 13. That the first principle and foundation in this, as in every thing else, is Good Sense, ver. 40. The chief proof of it is

follow Nature, even in works of mere Luxury and Elegance. Instanced in Architecture and Gardening, where all must be adapted to the Genius and Use of the Place, and the Beauties not forced into it, but resulting from it, ver. 50. How men are disappointed in their most expensive undertakings, for want of this true Foundation, without which nothing can please long, if at all; and the best Examples and Rules will be but perverted into something burdensome and ridiculous, ver. 65, &c. to 92. A description of the false Taste of Magnificence; the first grand error of which is, to imagine that Greatness consists in the Size and Dimension, instead of the Proportion and Harmony of the whole, ver. 97, and the second, either

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