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Upon all judgment, fense, and wit,
And settle it as they think fit
On one another, like the choice
Of Persian princes, by one horse's voice :
For those fine pageants which some raise,
of falfe and disproportion'd praise,
T'enable whom they please t' appear

And pass for what they never were,
In private only being but nam’d,
Their modesty must be asham’d,
And not endure to hear,
And yet may be divulg’d and fam’d,
And own’d in public every

So vain some authors are to boast.
Their want of ingenuity, and club
Their affidavit wits, to dub
Each other but a Knight o'the Post,
As false as suborn'd perjurers,
That vouch away all right they have to their own ears.

But, when all other courses fail,
There is one easy artifice,
That seldom has been known to

cry all mankind down, and rail :
For he whom all men do contemn,
May be allow'd to rail again at them,
And in his own defence
To outface reason, wit, and sense,

75 And all that makes against himself condemn ;






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To snarl at all things, right or wrong,
Like a mad dog, that has a worm in 's tongue ;
Reduce all knowledge back of good and evil,
To its first original the devil ;
And, like a fierce inquisitor of wit,
To fpare no flesh that ever spoke or writ;
Though to perform his talk as dull,
As if he had a toadstone in his fculi,
And could produce a greater stock
Of maggots than a pastoral poet's flock.



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The feeblest vermin can destroy
As sure as stoutest beafts of prey,
And, only with their eyes and breath,
Infect and poison men to death ;
But that more impotent buffoon,
That makes it both his business and his sport
To rail at all, is but a drone,
That spends his sting on what he cannot hurt;
Enjoys a kind of letchery in spite,

Like o'ergrown finners, that in whipping take delight;
Invades the reputation of all those
That have, or have it not, to lose ;
And, if he chance to make a difference,
'Tis always in the wrongest sense :
As rooking gamesters never lay
Upon those hands that use fair play,
But venture all their bets
Upon the furs and cunning tricks of ablest cheats.

VI. Nox




Nor does he vex himself much less

105 Than all the world beside ; Falls fick of other men's excess, Is humbled only at their pride, And wretched at their happiness ; Revenges on himself the

wrong Which his vain malice and loose tongue, To those that feel it not, have done, And whips and spurs himself because he is outgone ; Makes idle characters and tales, As counterfeit, unlike, and false,

As witches' pictures are, of wax and clay,
To those whom they would in effigie slay.
And, as the devil, that has no shape of 's own,
Afects to put the ugliest on,
And leaves a ftink' behind him when he 's

So he that 's worse than nothing strives t'appear
I'th' likeness of a wolf or bear,
To fright the weak; but, when men dare
Encounter with him, stinks and vanishes to air.







'TIS true, to compliment the dead

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Is as impertinent and vain,
As 'twas of old to call them back again,
Or, like the Tartars, give them wives,
With settlements for after-lives :
For all that can be done or said,
Though ere so noble, great, and good,
By them is neither heard nor understood.
All our fine Neights and tricks of art,
First to create, and then adore desert,
And those romances which we frame,
To raise ourselves, not them, a name,
In vain are stuft with ranting flatteries,
And such as, if they knew, they would despise.

For * This Ode, which is the only genuine poem of Butler's among the many spurious ones fathered up. on him in what is called his Remains, was published by the Author himself, under his own name, in the year 1671, in three sheets 4to ; and, agreeable to this, Í find it in his own hand-writing among his many; scripts, with some little addition, and a few verbal alterations, as the reader may observe, in comparing it with the copy already printed.

For, as those times the Golden Age we call, 15
In which there was no gold in use at all;
So we plant glory and renown
Where it was ne'er deferv'd nor known,
But to worse purpose, many times,
To flourish o'er nefarious crimes,
And.cheat the world, that never seems to mind
How good or bad men die, but what they leave behind.

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And yet the brave Du-Val, whose name
Can never be worn-out by Fame;
That liv'd and dy'd to leave behind
A great example to mankind;
That fell a public facrifice,
From ruin to preserve those few
Who, though born falfe, may be made true,
And teach the world to be more just and wise ;
'Ought not, like vulgar ashes, rest
Unmention'd in his filent chest,
Not for his own, but public interest.
He, like a pious man, some years before
The arrival of his fatal hour,
Made every day he had to live
To his laft minute a preparative;
Taught the wild Arabs on the road
To act in a more gentle mode ;
Take prizes more obligingly than those
Who never had been bred filous ;

A T OF Ca FO T In AM Cut an



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