TO SHIPPEN, APOLLO was cold with Respect,
Since he for the State could the Mufes neglect:
But faid, in a greater Affembly he shin'd,
And Places were things he had ever declin❜d.

TR--P, Y—G and VANBRUGH expected Reward,
For fome things writ well, but APOLLO declar'd,
That one was too flat, the other too rough,
And the third fure already had Places enough.

Pert B-LL came next, and demanding the Bays, Said, those Works must be good, which hadADDISON'S

Praise;

But APOLLO reply'd, Child EUSTACE, 'tis known
Most Authors will praise whatsoever's their own.

Then PHPS came forth, as starch as a Quaker, Whose fimple Profeffion's a Paftoral-maker;

APOLLO advis'd him from Playhouse to keep,

And pipe to nought else but his Dog and his Sheep.

H-HS,

H-HS, F―TON, and G-y, came last in the Train, Too modeft to ask for the Crown they would gain: PHOEBUS thought them too bashful, and said they would need

More Boldness if ever they hop'd to fucceed.

APOLLO now driv'n to a curfed Quandary, Was wishing for SWIFT, or the fam'd Lady MARY: Nay, had honeft TOM SOUTHERN but been within call

But at last he grew wanton, and laugh'd at them all:

And fo'fpying one who came only to gaze,
A Hater of Verse, and Defpifer of Plays:
To him in great form, without any Delay
(Tho' a zealous Fanatick) presented the Bay.

All the Wits stood astonish'd, at hearing the God So gravely pronounce an Election fo odd:

And tho' PRIOR and POPE only laugh'd in his Face,

Moft others were ready to fink in the Place.

Yet

Yet fome thought the Vacancy open was kept, Concluding the Bigot would never accept:

But the Hypocrite told them, he well understood, Tho' the Function was wicked, the Stipend was good.

At laft in rush'd EUSDEN, and cry'd, "Who fhall have it,

"But I, the true Laureat, to whom the King gave it? APOLLO begg'd pardon, and granted his Claim ; But vow'd, tho' till then he ne'er heard of his Name.

On

On the TIMES

INCE in vain our Parfons teach,

SIN

Hear, for once, a Poet preach.

Vice has loft its very Name,

Skill and Coz'nage thought the fame;

Only playing well the Game,

Foul Contrivances we fee

Call'd but Ingenuity.

Ample Fortunes often made

Out of Frauds in ev'ry Trade,
Which an aukward Child afford
Enough to wed the greatest Lord.
The Miser starves to raise a Son;

But, if once the Fool is gone,

Years of Thrift fcarce ferve a Day,
Rake-hell fquanders all away.

I

Husbands

Husbands freaking for a Place,

Or toiling for their Pay;

While the Wives undo their Race

By Petticoats and Play.

Breeding Boys to Drink and Dice,

Carrying Girls to Comedies,

Where Ma-ma's Intrigues are fhown,

Which e'er long will be their own.
Having first at Sermon flept,

Tedious Day is weekly kept

By worse Hypocrites, than Men,

Till Monday comes to cheat agen.

Ev'n among the nobleft-born,

Moral Virtue is a Scorn

Gratitude, but rare at best ;

And Fidelity a Jeft.

All our Wit but Party-mocks;

All our Wisdom, raising Stocks:

Counted Folly to defend

Sinking Side, or falling Friend.

Long