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There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport,
P. Good Heav'n forbid, that I should blast their glory,
their debts, or keep their faith like kings ? If Blount + dispatch'd himself, he play'd the man, And so may'st thou, illustrious Pafferan!
* The style of addresses on an accession.
† Author of an impious foolish book called the Oracles of Reaion, who being in love with a near kinswoman of his, and rejected, gave himself a stab in the arm, as pretending to kill himself; of the consequence of which he really dicd.
# Author of another book of the same stamp, called, A phi'osophical Difcourse on Death, being a defence of suicide. He was a nobleman of Piedmont, banished from his country for his impieties, and lived in the utmost misery, yet feared to practise his own prccepts.--This unhappy man at lalt died a penitent.
But shall a printer *, weary of his life,
125 Learn, from their books, to hang himself and wife? This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear; Vice thus abus'd, demands a nation's care : This calls the church to deprecate our fin, And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin ş.
130 Let modeft Foster, if he will, excell Ten metropolitans in preaching well; A simple quaker, or a quaker's wife, Outdo Landaffe + in doctrine,-yea in life : Let humble ALLEN, with an aukward shame, 135 Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. Virtue may chuse the high or low, degree, 'Tis just alike to Virtue, and to me; Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king, She's still the same belov’d, contented thing. 140 Vice is undone, if she forgets her birth, And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth : But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore : Let greatness own her, and she's mean no more, Her birth, her beauty, crouds and courts confess, Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless; In golden chains the willing world she draws, And hers the Golpel is, and hers the laws, Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead.
150 Low ! at the wheels of her triumphal car, Old England's genius, rough with many a scar, Dragg’d in the dust! his arms hang idly round, His flag inverted trails along the ground ! Our youth, all liv'ry'd o’er with foreign gold, 155 Before her dance : behind her, crawl the old !
* A fact that happened in London a few years past. The unhappy man left behind him a paper justifying his action by the reasonings of some of these authors.
§ A spirituous liquor, the exorbitant use of which had almost destroyed the lowest rank of the people, till it was restrained by an act of parliament in 1736. † A poor b'fhoprick in Wales, as poorly supplied.
See thronging millions to the Pagod run,
Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain)
Fr. 'T IS all a libel— Paxton * (Sir) will say.
P. Not yet, my friend! to-morrow 'faith
it may ;
F. Yet none but you by name the guilty lash; Ev'n Guthry s faves half Newgate by a dash. Spare then the person, and expose the vice.
P. How, Sir! not damn the sharper, but the dice!
* Late solicitor to the Treasury.
§ The ordinary of Newgate, who publishes the memoirs of the maleface tors, and is often prevailed upon to be so tender of their reputation, as to set down no more thau the initials of their name.
Come on then, satire! gen'ral, unconfin’d,
P. Why that's the thing you bid me not to do.
F. You do.
P. The brib'd elector--F. There you stoop too low.
P. I fain would please you, if I knew with what; 26 Tell me, which knave is lawful game, which not? Must great offenders, once escap'd the crown, Like royal harts *, be never more run down? Admit your law to spare the knight requires, 30 As beasts of nature may we hunt 'the 'squires ? Suppo!e I censure-you know what I meanTo fave a bishop, may I name a dean?
A dean, Sir ? no; his fortune is not made, You hurt a man that's rising in the trade.
35 P. If not the tradesman who set up to-day, Much less the 'prentice who to-morrow may. Down, down, proud fatire ! tho' a realm be spoil'd, Arraign no mightier thief than wretched Wild g; Or, if a court or country's made a job,
40 Go drench a pickpocket, and join the mob.
But, Sir,' I beg you (for the love of vice)! Thcmatter's weighty, pray consider twice ; Have you lefs pity for the needy cheat, The poor and friendless villain, than the great ? 45
* Alluding to 'he old game-laws, when our kings spent all the time they could ípare from human laughter, in woods and forests.
§ Jonathan Hild, a famous thief, and thief-impeacher, who was at last caughi in liis own tra'n and hanged. 2