Who ftarv'd a Sifter, who forefwore a Debt, The poisoning Dame -F. You mean— P. I don't.F. You do. 20 P. See, now I keep the Secret, and not you! P. I fain would please you, if I knew with what; 25 30 F. A Dean, Sir? no; his Fortune is not made, You hurt a man that's rifing in the Trade. 35 P. If not the Tradefman who set up to-day, Much less the 'Prentice who to-morrow may. Down, down, proud Satire! though a Realm be spoil'd, Go drench a Pickpocket, and join the Mob. 40 The poor and friendless Villain, than the Great ? 45 Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the Scribe. Then Then better fure it Charity becomes To tax Directors, who (thank God) have Plums; May pinch ev'n there-why lay it on a King. 50 P. Muft Satire, then, nor rife nor fall? Speak out, and bid me blame no Rogues at all. F. Yes, strike that Wild, I'll justify the blow. P. Strike? why the man was hang'd ten years ago: Who now that obsolete Example fears? Ev'n Peter trembles only for his Ears. F. What, always Peter? Peter thinks you mad, P. Do I wrong the Man ? God knows, I praise a Courtier where I can. Ev'n in a Bishop I can fpy Defert; But does the Court a worthy Man remove? 60 65 70 75 I fhun his Zenith, court his mild Decline; I ftudy'd Shrewsbury, the wife and great : Carleton's calm Senfe, and Stanhope's noble Flame, 80 How shin'd the Soul, unconquer'd in the Tower; While Roman Spirit charms, and Attic Wit: Or Wyndham, just to Freedom and the Throne, 85 Names, which I long have lov'd, nor lov'd in vain, '90 Rank'd with their Friends, not number'd with their Train; And if yet higher the proud Lift should end, Still let me fay! No Follower, but a Friend. I never (to my forrow I declare) 95 Din'd with the Man of Rofs, or my Lord Mayor. Some, in their choice of Friends (nay, look not grave) Have ftill a fecret Byafs to a Knave: To find an honeft man, I beat about; And love him, court him, praise him, in or out. F. Then why fo few commended? P. Not Find you P. Not fo fierce ; the Virtue, and I'll find the Verfe. But random Praife-the task can ne'er be done : 105 For him the weeps, and him the weds again. O let my Country's Friends illumine mine! 115 120 -What are you thinking? F. Faith the thought's no fin, I think your Friends are out, and would be in. 125 130 Has Has never made a Friend in private life, And was, befides, a Tyrant to his Wife. 135 But pray when others praise him, do I blame? Call Verres, Wolfey, any odious name? Why rail they then, if but a Wreath of mine, Oh all-accomplish'd St. John! deck thy shrine? What? fhall each fpur-gall'd Hackney of the day, When Paxton gives him double Pots and Pay, Or each new-penfion'd Sycophant, pretend To break my Windows if 1 treat a Friend ; Then wifely plead, to me they meant no hurt, But 'twas my Guest at whom they threw the dirt? 145 Sure, if I fpare the Minister, no rules Of honour bind me, not to maul his Tools; Sure, if they cannot cut, it may be said His Saws are toothlefs, and his Hatchets Lead. 150 To fee a Footman kick'd that took his pay: But when he heard th' Affront the Fellow gave, Knew one a Man of honour, one a Knave; The prudent General turn'd it to a jest, And begg'd, he'd take the pains to kick the rest: 155 Which not at present having time to do F. Hold Sir ! for God's fake, where's th' Affront to you? Or P-ge pour'd forth the Torrent of his Wit? What's that to you who ne'er was out nor in ? 160 The |