No common coxcomb must be mention'd here,
Nor the dull train of dancing sparks appear;
No feather'd officers, who never fight;
of fuch a wretched rabble who would write?
Much lefs half-wits; that's more against our rules;
For they are fops, the others are but fools:
Who would not be as filly as DR,
Or dull as WLY, rather than CR ?
The cunning courtier fhould be flighted too,
Who with dull knav'ry makes so much ado,
Till the fhrewd fool, by thriving too too fast,
Like ESOP's fox, becomes a prey at last.
Nor fhould the royal mistresses be nam'd;
Too ugly, or too eafy to be blam'd;
With whom each rhiming fool keeps fuch a pother,
They are as common that way as the other:
While fauntring CHARLES, betwixt fo mean a brace,
Meets with diffembling still in either place,
Affected humour, or a painted face.
In loyal libels we have often told him,
How one has jilted him, the other fold him;
How that affects to laugh, and this to weep;
But who fo long can rail, as he can keep ?
Was ever prince by two at once mifled,
Foolish and falfe, ill-natur'd and ill-bred?
Ey and Ay, with all the race
Of formal blockheads, fhall have here no place;
At council fet, as foils, on DA's fcore,
To make that great falfe jewel fhine the more;
Who all the while is thought exceeding wife,
Only for taking pains, and telling lies.
But there's no meddling with such nauseous men ;
Their very names have tir'd my nicer pen;
'Tis time to quit their company, and chuse
Some nobler fubject for a sharper muse.
And first, behold the merriest man alive
Against his careless genius vainly strive;
Quit his dear eafe fome deep defign to lay,
Appoint the hour, and then forget the day.
Yet he will laugh, ev'n at his friends, and be
Juft as good company as NOKES OF LEE;
But when he would the court or nation rule,
He turns himself the best to ridicule.
When serious, few for great affairs more fit;
But fhew him mirth, and bait that mirth with wit,
That shadow of a jett fhall be enjoy'd,
Tho' he left all mankind to be destroy'd.
So Pufs, transform'd, fat like a mumping bride,
Penfive, and prudent, till the Moufe she spy'd;
But foon the lady had him in her eye,
And from the board did just as oddly fly.
Straining above our nature does no good;
We must fink back to our old flesh and blood.
As by our little MATCHIAVEL We find,
That nimbleft creature of the bufy kind :
His legs are crippled, and his body shakes,
Yet his bold mind, that all this bustle makes,
No pity of its poor companion takes;
What gravity can hold from laughing out,
To fee that lug his feeble limbs about?
Like hounds ill-coupled, Jowler is fo strong,
He jades poor Trip, and drags him all-along,
"Tis fuch a cruelty as ne'er was known,
To use a body thus, tho' 'tis one's own.
Yet this vain comfort in his mind he keeps;
His foul is foaring, while his body creeps.
Alas! that foaring, to thofe few who know,
Is but a busy flutt'ring here below.
So vifionary brains afcend the sky,
While on the ground entranc'd the wretches lie;
And fo late fops have fancy'd they can fly.
Next, our new earl, with parts deferving praife,
And wit enough to laugh at his own ways;
Yet lofes all foft days, and fenfual nights,
Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune flights,
Striving against his quiet all he can,
For the fine notion of a busy man :
And what is that at best, but one whose mind
Is made to vex himself and all mankind?
Drudging for wealth, a courtier let him live;
For, if some old fantastick lord will drive
A hackney coach, and meaner business do,
We should both pay him, and admire him too.
But is there any other beast alive,
Can his own harm fo wittily contrive?
Will any dog, that has his teeth and stones,
Refin❜dly leave his bitches and his bones,
To turn a wheel, and bark to be employ'd;
While VENUS is by rival dogs enjoy'd?
Yet this vain man, to get a statesman's name,
Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame.
Tho' SATIRE, nicely writ, no folly stings
But theirs, who merit praise for other things:
Yet we must needs this one exception make,
And break our rule for filly TROPO's fake;
Who lately too much scorn'd to be accus'd,
Now therefore scarce deserves to be abus'd.
Rais'd only by a mercenary tongue,
For railing fmoothly, and for reas'ning wrong.
As boys on holidays, let loose to play,
Halloo a stumbling jade in flipp'ry way;
Then laugh to fee in dirt and deep distress
Some awkard cit in her flowr'd foolish drefs;
Such mighty fatisfaction have I found,
To fee this tinfel eloquence a-ground.
The florid gravity we often faw
Baffled by common whifflers of the law.
For fenfe fits filent, and condemns for weaker
The finer, nay fometimes the wittier speaker.
So odd a mixture no man else affords;
Such scarcity of fenfe, fuch choice of words!
At bar abufive, on the bench unable,
Knave on the wool-fack, fop at council table!
But these are politicians, fuch as wou'd
Be rather high than honest, great than good.
Another fort of wits fhall now be shown,
Whose harmless foibles hurt themselves alone;
Who think excess of luxury can please,
And laziness call loving of their ease;
Pleasure and indolence their only aim;
Yet their whole life's but intermitting pain.
Such head-achs, furfeits, ails, their days divide,
They fearce perceive the little time befide.
Well-meaning men, who make this gross mistake,
And pleasure lofe, only for pleasure's fake!
Each pleasure hath its price, and when we pay
Too much of pain, we fquander life away.
Thus DT, purring like a thoughtful cat,
Marry'd; but wifer Pufs ne'er thinks on that.
Like PEMBROKE's dog, fierce at his fondest time,
At once he woes, and worries her in rhime;
To gain her love, exposes all her life,
A teeming widow, but a barren wife.
With tame fubmiffion to the will of fate,
He lugg'd about the matrimonial weight;
Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he,
Has ill reftor'd him to his liberty;
That is, to live in his old idle way,
Smoaking all night, and dozing all the day;
Dull as NED HRD, whom his brisker time
Had fam'd for nonfenfe in immortal rhime.
M- VE had much ado to 'scape the fnare,
Tho' vers'd in all those arts that cheat the fair.
Beauty and wit had feiz'd his heart so fast,
That NUMPS himself feem'd in the ftocks at last.
Old injur'd parents dry'd their weeping eyes,
In hopes to fee this pirate made a prize;
Th' impatient town waited the wish'd-for change,
And cuckolds fneer'd in hopes of fweet revenge;
Till his ambition set his love aside,
And fav'd him, not by prudence, but by pride.
What tender thoughts his harden'd heart can move,
Who for a fhadow quits substantial love?
And little SID, for fimile renown'd,
Pleasure has always fought, but feldom found:
Remarkable for making pleasant and proper Similies on
|