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And with a face as red, and as awry,
Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it so
He meant to cry; and tho’his face be as ill
Courts are too much for wits so weak as mine:
I shook like a spy'd spy. Preachers! which are
EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES.
IN TWO DIALOGUES.
[Written in the Year 1738.]
F. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, And when it comes the Court see nothing in't. You grow correct that once with rapture writ, And are, besides, too moral for a wit. Decay of parts, alas! we all must feel
5 Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal ? 'Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye Said“ Tories callid him Whig, and Whigs a Tory;" And taught his Romans, in much better metre, " To laugh at fools who put their trust in Peter.” 10
But Horace, Sir, was delicate, was nice; Bubo observes he lash'd no sort of vice: Horace would say, Sir Billy serv'd the Crown, Blunt could do buss'ness, Higgins knew the Town ; In Sappho touch the failings of the sex, In rev’rend bishops note some small neglects, And own the Spaniard did a waggish thing, Who cropt our ears, and sent them to the King.
His sly, polite, insinuating style
P. See Sir Robert! humAnd never laugh—for all my life to come? See him I have; but in his happier hour Of social pleasure, ill-exchang'd for pow'r; SO Seen him, uncumber'd with a venal tribe, Smile without art, and win without a bribe, Would he oblige me? let me only find He does not think me what he thinks mankind. Come, come, at all I laugh he laughs, no doubt; 35 The only diff'rence is—I dare laugh out.
F. Why, yes : with Scripture still you may be free; A horse-laugh, if you please, at honesty, A joke on Jekyll, or some odd old Whig, Who never chang'd his principle or wig. A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age, Whom all lord chamberlains allow the stage : These nothing hurts; they keep their passion still, And wear their strange old virtue as they will.