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Earnely and Aylesbury, with all that raee
Of bufy blockheads, shall have here no place;
At council fet as foils on Dorfet's score,
Tomake that great falfe jewel fhine the more;
Who all that while was thought exceeding wife,
Only for taking pains and telling lies,

But there's no meddling with fuch nauseous men ;
Their very names have tir'd my lazy pen :
'Tis time to quit their company, and choose
Some fitter fubject for a fharper Mufe.

Firft, let's behold the merriest man alive
Against his careless genius vainly ftrive;
Quit his dear eafe, fome deep defign to lay,
'Gainst a fet time; and then forget the day :
Yet he will laugh at his best friends; and be,
Juft as good company as Nokes and Lee.
But when he aims at reafon or at rule,
He turns himself at beft to ridicule,

Let him at bus'ness ne'er fo earnest fit,

Shew him but mirth, and bait that mirth with wit,
That fhadow of a jeft fhall be enjoy'd,

Though he left all mankind to be deftroy'd,
So cat transform'd fat gravely and demure,
Till mouse appear'd, and thought himself secure.
But foon the lady had him in her eye,

And from her friend did juft as oddly fly.

Reaching

Reaching above our nature does no good;
We must fall back to our old flesh and blood;
As by our little Machiavel, we find
That nimbleft creature of the bufy kind,
His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes;
Yet his hard mind, which all this buftie makes,
No pity of its poor companion takes.

What gravity can hold from laughing out,
To see him drag his feeble legs about,

Like hounds ill-coupled ? Jewler lugs him ftit
Thro' hedges, ditches, and thro' all that's ill.
Twere crime in any man but him alone,
To use a body fo, tho' 'tis one's own:
Yet this falfe comfort never gives him o'er,

That whilft he creeps his vig'rous thoughts can foar :
Alas! that foaring, to those few that know,
Is but a bufy grov'ling here below.

So men in rapture think they mount the sky,
Whilft on the ground th' entranced wretches lie:
So modern fops have fancied they could fly.
As the new earl with parts deferving praise,
And wit enough to laugh at his own ways ;
Yet lofes all foft days and sensual nights,
Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune flights;
Striving against his quiet all he can,

For the fine notion of a busy ma n.

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And what is that, at beft, but one whose mind
Is made to tire himself and all mankind?

For Ireland he would go; faith, let him reign;
For if fome odd fantaftic lord would fain
Carry in trunks, and all my drudg'ey do,
I'll not only pay him, but admire him too.
But is there any other beaft that lives,
Who his own harm, fo wittingly contrives?
Will any dog, that has his teeth and ftones,
Refin'dly leave his bitches and his bones
To turn a wheel ? and bark to be employ❜d,
While Venus is by rival dogs enjoy'd?,
Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name,
Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame.

Though fatire nicely writ no humour flings
But those who merit praise in other things;
Yet we must needs this one exception make,
And break our rules for folly Tropos fake,
Who was too much defpis'd to be accus'd,
And therefore foarce deferves to be abus'd;
Rais'd only by his mercenary tongue,
For railing fmoothly, and for reas'ning wrong.
As boys on holidays let loofe to play ›
Lay waggifh traps for girls that pafs that way,
Then fhout to fee in dirt and deep diftrefs
Some filly cit in her flower'd foolish dress;

So have I mighty fatisfaction found,

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To see his tinsel reafon on the ground:
To fee the florid fool defpis'd, and know it, wat daa
By fome who scarce have words enough to fhew it all t
For fenfe fits filent, and condemns for weaker te tutmuff
The finer, nay fometimes the wittiest speaker:
But 'tis prodigious fo much eloquence to
Should be acquired by fuch little fenfet
For words and wit did anciently agree;
And Tully was no fool, though this man be:
At bar abufive, on the bench unable, '
Knave on the woolfack, fop at council-table.
Thefe are the grievances of fuch fools as would
Be rather wife than honeft, great than good.
Some other kinds of wits must be made known,
Whofe harmless errors hurt themselves alone;
Excefs of luxury they think can please,
And lazinefs call loving of their ease ;,
To live diffolv'd in pleasures still they feign,
Though their whole life's but intermitting pain >
So much of furfeits, head-achs, claps are feen,
We scarce perceive the little time between:
Well-meaning men who make this grofs mistake,
And pleasure lose only for pleasure's fake ;
Each pleasure has its price; and when we pay
Too much of pain, we fquander life away.

Thus

Thus Dorfet, purring like a thoughtful cat,
Married; but wifer pufs ne'er thought of that;
And firft he worried her with railing rhyme,
Like Pembroke's mafliffs at his kindest time;
Then for one night fold all his flavish life,
A teeming widow, but a barren wife;
Swell'd by contact of such a fulfome toad,
He lugg'd about the matrimonial load;
Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he,
Has ill reftor'd him to his liberty!
Which he would use in his old fneaking way,
Drinking all night, and dozing all the day;
Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brifker times,
Had fam'd for dullness in malicious rhymes.
Mulgrave had much ado to fcape the fnare,
Tho' learn'd in all those arts that cheat the fair ;
For, after all his vulgar marriage-mocks,
With beauty dazzled, Numps was in the flocks;
Deluded parents dried their weeping eyes,
To fee him catch a tartar for his prize;

Th' impatient town waited the wifh'd-for change,
And cuckolds fmil'd in hopes of sweet revenge §
Till Petworth plot made us with forrow fee,
As his eftate, his perfon too was free:
Him no foft thoughts, no gratitude could move
To gold he fled from beauty and from love;
Vol. VI. 24.

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