Names, which I long have lov'd, nor lov'd in vain, Rank'd with their Friends, not number'd with their

Train;

91

And if yet higher the proud Lift should end,
Still let me fay! No Follower, but a Friend.
Yet think not, Friendship only prompts my lays;
I follow Virtue; where the fhines, I praise :
Point fhe to Prieft or Elder, Whig or Tory,
Or round a Quaker's Beaver, caft a Glory.
I never (to my forrow I declare)

95

Din'd with the Man of Ross, or my LORD MAY'R. 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?

Find

P. Not fo fierce ;

you the Virtue, and I'll find the Verse.
But random Praife-the task can ne'er be done;
Each Mother afks it for her booby Son,
Each Widow afks it for the Beft of Men,
For him the weeps, and him fhe weds

agen.

101

Praise cannot stoop, like Satire, to the ground;
The Number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd.
Enough for half the Greatest of these days,
To 'fcape my Cenfure, not expect my Praise,
Are they not rich? what more can they pretend?
Dare they to hope a Poet for their Friend?

105

1

110

.ཟ་རྭ

115

What RICHELIEU wanted, Louis scarce could gain, And what young AMMON wifh'd, but wish'd in vain. No Pow'r the Mufe's Friendship can command; No Pow'r, when Virtue claims it, can withstand: To Cato, Virgil pay'd one honeft line;

120

O let my Country's Friends illumin mine! -What are you thinking? F. Faith the thought's ne fin,

I think your Friends are out, and would be in.

P. If merely to come in, Sir, they go out,
The way they take is ftrangely round about.
F. They too may be corrupted, you'll allow !
P. I only call thofe Knaves who are so now.
Is that too little? Come then, I'll comply-
Spirit of Arnall! aid me while I lie.
COBHAM's a Coward, PoLWARTH is a Slave,
And LYTTELTON a dark, defigning Knave,
ST. JOHN has ever been a wealthy Fool
But let me add, Sir ROBERT's mighty dull,
Has never made a Friend in private life,
And was, befides, a Tyrant to his Wife.

But, pray, when others praise him, do I blame! Call Verres, Wolfey, any odious name?

125

130

135

VER. 129. Spirit of Arnall!] Look for him in his place. Dunc. B. ii. ver. 315.

VER. 130. Polwarth.] The Hon. Hugh Hume, Son of Alex. ander Earl of Marchmont, Grandfon of Patric Earl of March. mont, and distinguished, like them, in the cause of Liberty,

Why rail they then, if but a Wreath of mine,
Oh All-accomplish'd ST. JOHN ! deck thy fhrine?
What? fhall each spurgall'd Hackney of the day,
When Paxton gives him double Pots and Pay, 141-
Or each new-penfion'd Sycophant, pretend

To break my Windows if I treat a Friend?
Then wifely plead, to me they meant no hurt,
But 'twas my Guest at whom they threw the dirt?
Sure, if I fpare the Minister, no rules

145

Of Honour bind me, not to maul his Tools;

Sure, if they cannot cut, it may be faid

His Saws are toothless, and his Hatchet's Lead. 'It anger'd TURENNE, once upon a day,

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 Gen'ral 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?

Against your worship when had S-k writ?

Or

Or P-ge pour'd forth the Torrent of his Wit?
grant
the Bard whose distich all commend
[In Pow'r a Servant, out of Pow'r a friend]

160

VER. 160. the Bard] A verfe taken out of a poem to Sir R. W.

To W-le guilty of some venial fin;
What's that to you who ne'er was out nor in?

The Prieft whofe Flattery be-dropt the Crown,
How hurt he you! he only ftain'd the Gown.
And how did, pray, the florid Youth offend,
Whofe Speech you took, and gave it to a Friend?
P. Faith, it imports not much from whom it came ;
Whoever borrow'd, could not be to blame,
Since the whole House did afterwards the fame.
Let Courtly Wits to Wits afford fupply,
As Hog to Hog in huts of Weftphaly;
If one, thro' Nature's Bounty or his Lord's,
Has what the frugal, dirty foil affords,

165

}

171

From him the next receives it, thick or thin,

175

As pure a mess almost as it came in ;
The bleffed benefit, not there confin'd,

Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind;

From tail to mouth, they feed and they carouse:
The last full fairly gives it to the Houfe.

180

F. This filthy fimile, this beastly line Quite turns my ftomach—

P. So does Flatt'ry mine;

And all your courtly Civet-cats can vent,

Perfume to you, to me is Excrement.

VER. 164. The Priest, etc.] Spoken not of any particular prieft, but of many priests.

VER. 166. And bow did, etc.] This feems to allude to a complaint made ver. 7. of the preceding Dialogue.

But hear me further-Japhet, 'tis agreed,

185

Writ not, and Chartres fcarce could write or read, In all the Courts of Pindus guiltless quite ;

But Pens can forge, my Friend, that cannot write;
And must no Egg ́in Japhet's face be thrown,
Because the Deed he forg'd was not my own? 190
Muft never Patriot then declaim at Gin,

Unless, good man! he has been fairly in?
No zealous Paftor blame a failing Spouse,
Without a flaring Reafon on his brows?
And each Blafphemer quite efcape the rod,
Because the infult's not on Man, but God?
Afk you what Provocation I have had ?
The ftrong Antipathy of Good to Bad.
When Truth or Virtue an Affront endures,

195

Th' Affront is mine, my friend, and should be yours.
Mine, as a Foe profess'd to falfe Pretence,

Who think a Coxcomb's Honour like his Sense;
Mine, as a Friend to ev'ry worthy mind;
And mine as Man, who feel for all mankind.
F. You're ftrangely proud,

VARIATIONS.

VER. 185. in the MS.

I grant it, Sir; and further, 'tis agreed,

Japhet writ not, and Chartres fcarce could read. VER. 185. Japhet

Bathurst.

201

Chartres] See the Epiftle to Lord

VER. 204. And mine as Man, who feel for all mankind.] From Terence: "Homo fum: humani nihil a me alienum << puto."