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There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport,
Lullid with the sweet Nepenthe of a court;
There, where no father's, brothers, friend's disgrace
Once break their rest, or stir them from their place :
But past the sense of human miseries,
All tears are wip'd for ever from all eyes;
No check is known to blush, no heart to throb,
Save when they lose a question, or a job.
P. Good Heav'n forbid, that I should blast their glory,
Who know how like whig ministers to tory, i 106
And when three sov’reigns dy'd, could scarce be vext,
Confid'ring what a gracious prince * was next.
Have I, in silent wonder, seen such things
As pride in slaves, and avarice in kings;
And at a peer, or peeress, shall I fret,
Who starves a fifter, or forswears a debt?
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of Vice be lost?
Ye gods ! shall Cibbe:'s son, without rebuke, 115 ·
Swear like a lord, or Rich foutwhore a duke ?
A fav’rite's porter with his master vie,
Be brib'd as often, and as often lie ?
Shall Ward draw contracts with a statesman's skill?
Or Japhet pocket, like his grace, a will?
120 Is it for Bond or Peter, (paltry things) To pay their debts, or keep their faith like kings ? If Blount t dispatch'd himself, he play'd the man, And so may'st thou, illustrious Pafferan !
* The Style of addresses on an accession.
S Two players : look for them in the Dunciad.
† Author of an impious foolish book called the Oracles of Reaion, who being in love with a near kinswoman of his, and rejected, gave him felf a stab in the arm, as pretending to kill himself, of the consequence of which he really dicd.
# Author of another book of the fame stamp, called, A philosophical Difcourf: on Death, being a defence of suicide. He was a nobleman of Piedmont, banished from his country for his impieties, and lived in the utmost misery, yet feared to praćțise his own procepts.--This unhappy man at last died a penitent.
But shall a printer *, weary of his life, - ... 125
Learn, from their books, to hang himself and wife?
This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear;
Vice thus abus’d, demands a nation's care :
This calls the church to deprecate our fin,
And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin s. 130
Let modeft Foster, if he will, 'excell
Ten metropolitans in preaching well;
A simple quaker, or a quaker's wife,
Outdo Landaffe + in doctrine, -yea in life :
Let humble ALLEN, with an aukward shame,
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame...
Virtue may chuse the high or low, degree,
'Tis just alike to Virtue, and to me;
Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king,
She's still the same belov’d, contented thing. 140
Vice is undone, if she forgets her birth,
And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth :
But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore :
Let greatness own her, and she's mean no more,
Her birth, her beauty, crouds and courts confess,
Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless;
In golden chains the willing world she draws,
And hers the Gospel is, and hers the laws,
Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head,
And fees pale Virtue carted in her stead.
Low ! at the wheels of her triumphal car,
Old England's genius, rough with many a scar,
Dragg'din the dust! his arms hang idly round,
His flag inverted trails along the ground !
Our youth, all liv'ry'd o’er with foreign gold, 155
Before her dance : behind her, crawl the old !
A fact that happened in London a few years past. The unhappy man behind him a paper justifying his action by the reasonings of some of
9.A fpirituous liquor, the exorbitant use of which had almost destroyed the lowest rank of the people, till it was restrained by an act of parliament in 1736.
TA poor b'fhoprick in Wales, as poorly supplied.
See thronging millions to the Pagod run,
And offer country, parent, wife, or son!
Hear her black trumpet thro' the land proclaim,
That Nor TO BE CORRUPTED IS THE SHAME. 160
In foldier; churchman, patriot, inan in pow'r,
'Tis avèrice all, ambition is no more!
See, all our nobles begging to be slaves'! '
See, all our foois aspiring to be knaves !
The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore, 165
Are whát ten thousand envy and adore :
All, all look up, with reverential awe;
At crimes that 'icape, or triumph o'er the law. :
While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry-
75 Nothing is sacred now but villainy."
Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain)
Show there was one who held it in disdain:
Fr. 9T IS all a libel-Paxton * (Sir) will say. 2
P. Not yet, my friend! to-morrow 'faith
And for that very cause I print to-day.
How should I fret to mangle ev'ry line,
In rev'rence to the fins of Thirty-nine !
Vice with such giant strides comes on amain,
Invention strives to be before in vain;
Feign what I will, and paint it e'er so strong,
Some rising genius fins up to my song.
F. Yet none but you by name the guilty lash;
Ev'n Guthry $ faves half Newgate by a dash.
Spare then the person, and expose the vice.
P. How, Sir! not damn the sharper, but the dice!
* Late solicitor to the Treasury.
§ The ordinary of Newgate, who publishes the memoirs of the malefactors, and is often prevailed upon to be so tender of their reputation, as to set down no more than the initials of their name.
Come on then, fatire ! gen’ral, unconfin'd,
Spread thy broad wing, and souce on all the kind. 15
Ye statesmen, priests, of one religion all!
Ye tradesmen, 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 starv'd a sister, who forswore a debt,
20 I never nam’d; the town's enquiring yet. The pois’ning dame--F. You mean--P. I don't.
F. You do.
P. See, now I keep the secret, and not you !
The bribing statesman-F. Hold, too high you go.
P. The brib'd elector-F. There you stoop too low.
P. I fain would please you, if I knew with what; 26 Tell me, which knave is lawful game, which not ? Must great offenders, once escap'd the crown, Like royal harts *, be never more run down? Admit your law to spare the knight requires, As beasts of nature may we hunt 'the 'squires ? Suppole I cenfure-you know what I meanTo save a bishop, may I name a dean?
F. A dean, Sir ? no; his fortune is not made,
You hurt a man that's rising in the trade.
P. If not the tradesman who set up to-day,
Much less the 'prentice who to-morrow may.
Down, down, proud satire ! tho' a realm be spoil'd,
Arraign no mightier thief than wretched Wild S;
Or, if a court or country's made a job,
40 Go drench a pickpocket, and join the mob,
But, Sir,' I beg you (for the love of vice)! The inatter's weighty, pray consider twice ; Have you loss pity for the needy cheat, The poor and friendless villain, than the great ? 45