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Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force,
Paint Angels trembling round his falling Horse?

F. Then all your Muse's softer art display,
Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay,
Lull with Amelia's liquid name the Nine,

And sweetly flow through all the Royal Line.

P. Alas! few verfes touch their nicer ear; They scarce can bear their Laureate twice a year; And justly Cæfar fcorns the Poet's lays,

It is to Hiftory he trufts for Praise.

F. m Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still,
Than ridicule all Tafte, blafpheme Quadrille,
Abuse the City's best good men in metre,
And laugh at Peers that put their trust in Peter.
"Ev'n thofe you touch not, hate you.

P. What should ail them ?

F. A hundred fmart in Timon and in Balaam :

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Agmina, nec fracta pereuntes cufpide Gallos,
Aut labentis equo defcribat vulnera Parthi.

T. Attamen et juftum poteras et fcribere fortem, Scipiadam ut fapiens Lucilius.

H. Haud mihi deero,

Cum res ipfa feret: nifi dextro tempore, Flacci
Verba per attentam non ibunt Cæfaris aurem :
Cui male fi palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus.
T. m Quanto rectius hoc, quam trifti lædere versu
Pantolabum fcurram, Nomentanumve nepotem ?

"Cum fibi quifque timet, quamquam est intactus, et odit.

The fewer ftill you name, you wound the more;
Bond is but one, but Harpax is a fcore.

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P. Each mortal has his pleasure none deny
Scarfdale his Bottle, Darty his Ham-pye;
Ridotta fips and dances, till fhe fee

The doubling Luftres dance as fast as she;
PF- loves the Senate, Hockleyhole his brother,
Like in all else, as one Egg to another.

I love to pour out all myfelf, as plain
As downright Shippen, or as old Montagne :
In them, as certain to be lov'd as feen,

The Soul ftood forth, nor kept a thought within;
In me what spots (for spots I have) appear,
Will prove at least the Medium must be clear.
In this impartial glafs, my Mufe intends
Fair to expofe myself, my foes, my friends;
Publish the prefent age; but where my text
Is Vice too high, reserve it for the next:
My foes shall wish my life a longer date,
And every friend the lefs lament my fate.

H. Quid faciam? faltat Milonius, ut femel icto
Acceffit fervor capiti, numerufque lucernis.
p Caftor gaudet equis; ovo prognatus eodem,
Pugnis. quot capitum vivunt, totidem ftudiorum
Millia. q me pedibus delectat claudere verba,
Lucili ritu, noftrûm melioris utroque.

Ille velut fidis arcana fodalibus olim

Credebat libris; neque, fi male gefferat, ufquam,
Decurrens alio, neque fi bene; quo fit, ut omnis

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My head and heart thus flowing through my quill,

r Verseman or Proseman, term me which you will,
Papift or Proteftant, or both between,

Like good Erasmus in an honest mean,
In moderation placing all my glory,

While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory.
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet

To run a-muck, and tilt at all I meet ;

t I only wear it in a land of Hectors,

Thieves, Supercargoes, Sharpers, and Directors.
u Save but our army! and let Jove incruft
Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting ruft!
Peace is my dear delight—not Fleury's more:
But touch me, and no minifter fo fore.
Whoe’er offends, at some unlucky time,
x Slides into verfe, and hitches-in a rhyme,

Votiva pateat veluti defcripta tabella

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Sacred

Vita fenis. fequor hunc, Lucanus an Appulus, anceps:
[Nam Venufinus arat finem fub utrumque colonus,
Missus ad hoc, pulfis (vetus eft ut fama) Sabellis ;
Quo ne per vacuum Romano incurreret hoftis;
Sive quod Appula gens, feu quod Lucania bellum
Incuteret violenta] s fed hic ftylus haud petet ultro
Quemquam animantem, et me veluti custodiet enfis
Vagina tectus, quem cur deftringere coner,

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t Tutus ab infestis latronibus? " O pater et rex
Jupiter, ut pereat pofitum rubigine telum,
Nec quifquam noceat w cupido mihi pacis! at ille,
Qui me commôrit, (melius non tangere, clamo)
Flebit, et infignis-tota cantabitur urbe.

Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
And the fad burthen of fome merry song.

y Slander or Poifon dread from Delia's rage,
Hard words or hanging, if your Judge be Page.
From furious Sappho scarce a milder fate,
P-x'd by her love, or libel'd by her hate.

Its proper power to hurt, each creature feels;
Bulls aim their horns, and Affes lift their heels;
'Tis a Bear's talent not to kick, but hug;
And no man wonders he's not stung by Pug.
a So drink with Walters, or with Chartres eat,
They 'll never poifon you, they'll only cheat.

b Then, learned Sir! (to cut the matter short) Whate'er my fate, or well or ill at Court, Whether Old age, with faint but chearful ray, Attends to gild the Evening of my day,

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Cervius iratus leges minitatur et urnam; Canidia Albutî, quibus eft inimica, venenum; Grande malum Turius, fi quid fe judice certes : Ut, quo quifque valet, suspectos terreat, utque Imperet hoc Natura potens, fic collige mecum. Dente lupus, cornu taurus petit; unde, nifi intus Monftratum; a Scaevae vivacem crede nepoti Matrem; nil faciet fceleris pia dextra (mirum ? Ut neque calce lupus quemquam, neque dente petit. bos) Sed mala tollet anum vitiato melle cicuta.

b Ne longum faciam: feu me tranquilla fene&tus Expectat, feu mors atris circumvolat alis ;

Or Death's black wing already be display'd,
To wrap me in the universal shade;

Whether the darken'd room to muse invite,
Or whiten'd wall provoke the skewer to write:
In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint.

Like Lee or Budgell, I will rhyme and print.

F.

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Alas, young man! your days can ne'er be long,

In flower of Age you perifh for a song!

Plums and Directors, Shylock and his Wife,

Will club their Tefters, now, to take your life!

P. e What? arm'd for Virtue when I point the pen, Brand the bold front of fhameless guilty men;

Dafh the proud Gamefter in his gilded Car;
Bare the mean Heart that lurks beneath a Star;

Can there be wanting, to defend Her cause,

Lights of the Church, or Guardians of the Laws? 110
Could penfion'd Boileau lash in honest strain
Flatterers and Bigots ev'n in Louis' reign?
Could Laureate Dryden Pimp and Fryar engage,
Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage?

Dives, inops; Romae, feu fors ita jufferit, exful;
Quifquis erit vitae, fcribam, color.

T. O puer, ut fis

Vitalis metuo; et majorum ne quis amicus

Frigore te feriat.

H. Quid? cum eft Lucilius aufus Primus in hunc operis componere carmina morem,

And

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