But talk with Celsus, Celsus will advise P. What? like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough and fierce, [verse, F. Then all your Muse's softer art display, P. Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear; They scarce can bear their Laureat twice a year; And justly Cæsar scorns the poet's lays; It is to history he trusts for praise. F. Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still, Ev'n those you touch not hate you. P. What should ail 'em? F. A hundred smart in Timon and in Balaam : 35 40 The fewer still you name you wound the more; P. Each mortal has his pleasure: none deny 45 Scarsdale his bottle, Darty his ham-pie: Ridotto sips and dances till she see The doubling lustres dance as fast as she: 50 I love to pour out all myself as plain As downright Shippen or as old Montaigne : The soul stood forth, nor kept a thought within; s; My head and heart thus flowing thro' my quill, While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory. 55 60 65 Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet Thieves, supercargoes, sharpers, and directors. Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting rust! Slander or poison dread from Delia's rage; 70 75 80 P-x'd by her love, or libell❜d by her hate. 85 Bulls aim their horns, and asses lift their heels; 'Tis a bear's talent not to kick, but hug; And no man wonders he's not stung by pug. So drink with Walters, or with Chartres eat, They'll never poison you, they'll only cheat. 90 Then, learned Sir! (to cut the matter short) Whate'er my fate, or well or ill at court, Or Death's black wing already be display'd, Whether the darken'd room to muse invite, Like Lee or Budgell I will rhyme and print. 95 100 F. Alas, young man, your days can ne'er be long: In flow'r of age you perish for a song! Plums and directors, Shylock and his wife, 106 110. P. What? arm'd for virtue when I point the pen, Brand the bold front of shameless guilty men, Dash the proud gamester in his gilded car, Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a star; Can there be wanting, to defend her cause, Lights of the church or guardians of the laws? Could pension'd Boileau lash in honest strain, Flatt'rers and bigots ev'n in Louis' reign? Could Laureat Dryden pimp and fry'r engage, Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage? And I not strip the gilding off a knave, Unplac'd, unpension'd, no man's heir or slave? I will, or perish in the genʼrous cause: Hear this and tremble! you who 'scape the laws. Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave Shall walk the world in credit to his grave: 115 120 To virtue only and her friends a friend, And he whose lightning pierc'd th' Iberian lines, 131 Envy must own I live among the great, No pimp of pleasure, and no spy of state; With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er repeats, Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heats; 136 To help who want, to forward who excel; This all who know me know, who love me, tell; And who unknown defame me, let them be Scribblers or peers, alike are mob to me. This is my plea, on this I rest my causeWhat saith my counsel, learned in the laws? F. Your plea is good; but still I say beware! Laws are explain'd by men-so have a care. It stands on record, that in Richard's times, A man was hang'd for very honest rhymes. 140 145 |