Mean in each Action, lewd in every Limb,
Manners themselves are mischievous in him.
A Glofs he gives to ev'ry foul Design,
And we must own his very Vices fhine.
But of this odd Ill-nature to Mankind
Himself alone the ill Effects will find:
So envious Hags in vain their Witchcraft try,
Yet for intended Mischief juftly die.
For what a BESSUS has he always liv'd,
And his own Kickings notably contriv'd?
For (there's the Folly that's ftill mix'd with Fear)
Cowards more Blows than any Heroes bear.
Of fighting Sparks Fame may her Pleasure say;
But 'tis a bolder thing to run away.
The World may well forgive him all his ill,
For ev'ry Fault does prove his Penance still.
Eafily he falls into fome dang'rous Noose,
And then as meanly labours to get loose :
A Life fo infamous is better quitting,
Spent in base injuring, and low submitting.