The manor, Sir?" The manor! hold, he cry'd. 2601
"Not that, I cannot part with that"-and dy'd.
And you! brave Cobham, to the latest breath,
Shall feel your ruling paffion strong in death:
Such in thofe moments as in all the past,
"Oh, fave my Country, Heaven!" fhall be your last.

MORAL ESSAY S.

EPISTLE II.

TO A LADY.

Of the Charaters of Women.

How foft is Silia! fearful to offend;
The frail-one's advocate, the weak-one's friend. 30
To her Califta prov'd her condu&t nice;
And good Simplicius afks of her advice.
Sudden, the storms! The raves! You tip the wink,
But fpare your cenfure; Silia, does not drink.
All eyes may fee from what the change arose,
All eyes may fee- -3 Pimple on her nose.

35

Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark,
Sighs for the fhades-" How charming is a Park!"
A Park is purchas'd, but the Fair he fees
All bath'd in tears-"Oh odious, odious Trees!" 40
Ladies, like variegated Tulips, fhow,

'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe;
Fine by defect, and delicately weak,
Their happy Spots the nice admirer take.
'Twas thus Calypfo once each heart alarm'd,
Aw'd without Virtue, without Beauty charm'd;
Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her Eyes,
Lefs Wit than Mimic, more a Wit than Wife;
Strange graces ftill, and stranger flights fhe had,
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad;
Yet ne'er fo fure our paffion to create,
As when the touch'd the brink of all we hate.
Narciffa's nature, tolerably mild,

45

50

To make a wash, would hardly stew a child; There is nothing in Mr. Pope's works more highly finish-Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a Lover's prayer, 55 ed than this Epiftle: Yet its fuccefs was in no pro- And paid a Tradefman once to make him stare; portion to the pains he took in compofing it. Something Gave alms at Easter, in a Chriftian trim; he chanced to drop in a short advertisement prefixed And made a Widow happy, for a whim. to it, on its first publication, may perhaps account for Why then declare Good-nature is her scorn, the fmall attention given to it. He faid that no one When 'tis by that alone she can be born? character in it soas drawn from the life. The public Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name? believed him on his word, und expreffed little curio-A fool to Pleafure, yet a flave to fame: fity about a Satire, in which there was nothing per-Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs, fonal.

NOTHING fo true as what

you once let fall,
"Moft Women have no Characters at all."
Matter too soft, a lasting mark to bear,
And beft diftinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.
How many pictures of one Nymph we view,
All how unlike each other, all how true!
Arcadia's Countefs, here, in ermin'd pride,
Is there, Paftora by a fountain fide.
Here Fannia, leering on her own good man,
And there, a naked Leda with a Swan.
Let then the fair-one beautifully cry,
In Magdalene's loofe hair, and lifted eye,
Or dreft in fmiles of fweet Cecilia thine,
With fimpering Angels, Palms, and Harps divine;
Whether the Charmer finner it, or faint it,
If Folly grow romantic, I muft paint it.

60

[65

Now drinking Citron with his Grace and Chartres;
Now Confcience chills her, and now Passion burns;
And Atheism and Religion take their turns;
A very Heathen in the carnal part,
Yet ftill a fad good Christian at her heart.
See Sin in State, majestically drunk,
Proud as a Peerefs, prouder as a Punk;

70

5 Chafte to her Husband, frank to all befide,
A teeming Miftrefs, but a barren Bride.
What then? let Blood and Body bear the fault,
Her Head's untouch'd, that noble Seat of Thought:
Such this day's doctrine-in another fit

15

75

IO She fins with Poets through pure love of Wit.
What has not fir'd her bofom or her brain?
Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlemagne.
As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feast,
The Nofe of Haut-gout, and the Tip of Tafte, 80
Critiqu'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat,
So Philomedé, lecturing all mankind
Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat :
On the foft Paffion, and the Taste refin'd,
Th' Addrefs, the Delicacy-ftoops at once,
And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.

Come then, the colours and the ground prepare!
Dip in the Rainbow, trick her off in Air;
Choofe a firm Cloud, before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere the change, the Cynthia of this minute. 20
Rufa, whofe eye, quick glancing o'er the Park,
Attracts each light gay meteor of a Spark,
Agrees as ill with Rufa ftudying Locke,
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty fmock
Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task,
With Sappho fragrant at an evening Mask:
So morning Infects, that in muck begun,
Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the fetting fun.
VOL. VI.

k;

85

Flavia's a Wit, has too mnch sense to pray;
To toast our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor afks of God, but of her Stars, to give
The mighty bleffing, "while we live, to live." 90
25 Then all for Death, that Opiate of the foul!
Lucretia's dagger, Rofamonda's bowl.

Say, what can cause fuch impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.

3 C

Wife

Wife Wretch! with pleasures too refin'd to pleafe; For how fhould equal Colours do the knack? 155
95, Chameleons who can paint in white and black?
"Yet Chloe fure was forni'd without a fpot."-
Nature in her then erred not, but forgot.

With too much Spirit to be e'er at cafe;
With too much Quicknefs ever to be taught;
With too much Thinking to have common Thought:" With every pleafing, every prudent part,
You purchase pain with all that Joy can give, "Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a
And die of nothing but à rage to live.
Heart.

100

Turn then from Wits; and look on Simo's Mate,
No Afs fo meek, no Afs fo obftinate.

Or her, that owns her faults, but never mends,
Because she's honeft, and the belt of Friends.
Or her, whofe Life the Church and Scandal share,

Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace) Cries, "Ah! how charming, if there's no fuch place!"

115

120

130 None fee what Parts of Nature it conceals: 199
Th' exacteft traits of Body or of Mind,
We owe to models of an bumble kind.
If Queensberry to ftrip there's no compelling,
her 'Tis from a Handmaid we must take a Helen.
From Peer or Biftiop 'tis no eafy thing

135 To draw the man who loves his God, or King:
Aias! I copy (or any draught would fail)
From honeft Mah'met, or plain Parfon Hale.
But grant, in public Men fometimes are shown,
A Woman's feen in private life alone:
Our bolder talents in full light difplay'd;
Your Virtues open faireft in the fhade.
Bred to difguife, in public 'tis you hide;
There, none diftinguish 'twixt your Shame of
Pride,

Men, fome to Bufinefs, fome to Pleasure take; 215 Referve with Franknefs, Art with Truth ally'd, But every Woman is at heart a Rake: Men, fome to Quiet, fome to public Strife; But every Lady would be Queen for Life.

Beauties, like Tyrants, old and friendlefs grown,
Yet hate repofe, and dread to be alone,
Worn-out in public, weary every eye,
Nor leave one figh behind them when they die. 230
Pleasures, the fex, as children birds, pursue,
Still out of reach, yet never out of view;
Sure, if they catch, to fpoil the toy at most,
To covet flying, and regret when loft:
At laft, to follies Youth could fcarce defend,
It grows their Age's prudence to pretend;
Afham'd to own they gave delight before,
Reduc'd to feign it, when they give no more:
As Hags hold Sabbaths, lefs for joy than fpight,
So there their merry, miferable Night;
Still round and round the Ghofts of Beauty glide,
Aud haunt the places where their honour died.
See how the World its Veterans rewards!

A Youth of Frolicks, an Old-age of Cards;
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end;

Young without Lovers, old without a Friend;

A Fop their Paflion, but their Prize a Sot;
Alive ridiculous; and dead, forgot!

235

240

245

280

Courage with Softnefs, Modefty with Pride;
Fix'd Principles, with Faney ever new;
Shakes all together, and produces--You.
Be this a Woman's Fame! with this unbleft,
Toafts live a fcorn, and Queens may die a jeft.
This Phoebus promis'd forget the year)
When thofe blue eyes firft open'd on the fphere;
Afcendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with care,

Ah! Friend! to dazzle let the Vain defign;

To raise the thought, and touch the heart be thinel

That Charm fhall grow, while what fatigues the
King,

Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing:
So when the Sun's broad beam has tir'd the
fight,

All mild afcends the Moon's more fober light,
Serene in Virgin Modefty fhe fhires,
And unobferv'd the glaring orb declines

255

Of the Ufe of Riches.

The

250 That it is known to few, moft falling into one of the
extremes, Avarice or Profufion, ver.
&c.
"
Point difcuffed, whether the invention of Money has
been more commodious or pernicious to Mankind, ver.
21 to 77.
That Riches, either to the Avaricious
or the Prodigal, cannot afford Happiness, scarcely
Neceffaries, ver. 89 to 160. That Avarice is an ab-
Jolute Frexxy, without an End or Purpose, ver. 113,
&c 152. Conjectures about the Motives of Avari-
cious men, ver. 121 to 153. That the conduct of
men, with respect to Riches, can only be accounted
for by the Order of Providence, which works the
general Good out of Extremes, and brings all to its
great End by perpetual Revolutions, ver. 161 to 178.
How a Mifer acts upon Principles which appear to
bim reafonable, ver. 179. How a Prodigal does the
fame, ver. 199. The due medium, and true use of
Riches, ver. 219. The Man of Rofs, ver. 250.
The fate of the Profufe and the Covetous, in two
examples; both miferable in Life and in Death, ver.
300, &c. The Story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to

Oh! bleft with Temper, whofe unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow chearful as to-day:
She, who can love a Sifter's charms, or hear
Sighs for a Daughter with unwounded ear; 260
She who ne'er anfwers till a Husband cools,
Or, if the rules him, never fhews fhe rules;
Charms by accepting, by fubmitting fways,
Yet has her humour moft, when the obeys;
Let Fops or Fortune fly which way they will, 265
Difdains all lofs of Tickets, or Codille;
Spleen, Vapours, or Small-pox, above them all,
And Miftrels of herself, though China fall.

2.70

And yet, believe me, good as well as ill,
Woman's at beft a contradiction still.
Heaven, when it ftrives to polifh all it can
Its laft beft work, but forms a fofter Man;
Picks from each fex, to make the Favourite bleft,
Your love of Pleasure, our defire of Reft:
Pleuds, in exception to all general rules,
Your tafte of Follies, with our fcorn of Fools:

HO fhall decide, when Doctors disagree, And foundeft Cafuifts doubt, like you and me?

275 You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given, That Man was made the standing jeft of Heaven:

And Gold but fent to eep the Fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.

5 Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, 65

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the fhining mischief under ground:
But when, by Man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival too, its Sire, the Sun,
Then careful Heaven fupply'd two forts of Men,
To fquander Thefe, and 1hofe to hide again.
Like Doctors thus, when much dispute has paft,

We find our tenets juft the fame at last.
Both fairly owning, Riches, in effect,
No grace of Heaven or token of th' Elect;

70

Could he himself have fent it to the dogs?
His Grace will game: to White's a Bull be led,
With fpurning heels and with a butting head.
10 To White's be carry'd as to ancient games,
Fair Courfers, Vafes, and alluring Dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bear home fix Whores, and make his Lady weep?
Or foft Adonis, fo perfum'd and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of fwine?
15 Oh filthy check on all induftrious skill,
To fpoil the nation's last great trade, Quadrille?
Since then, my Lord, on fuch a World we fall,
What fay you? B. Say? Why take it, Gold and
all.
P. What Riches give us,

Given to the Fool, the Mad, the Vain, the Evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil. 20

let us then enquire?

75

B. What Nature wants, commodious Gold be-Meat, Fire, and Cloaths. B. What more? P. Meat,

ftows;

'Tis thus we eat the bread another fows.

P. But how unequal it beftows, obferve;
'Tis thus we riot, while, who fow it, ftarve:
What Nature wants (a phrase I must diftruft)
Extends to Luxury, extends to Lust:
Ufeful, I grant, it fèrves what Life requires,
But dreadful too, the dark Affaffin hires.

B. 1 rade it may help, Society extend :

Cloaths, and Fire.

Is this too little? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
Alas! 'tis more than (all his vifions past)

25 Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last!
What can they give? to dying Hopkins, Heirs; 85,
To Chartres, Vigour; Japhet, Nose and Ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
In Fulvia's buckle eafe the throbs below;

P. But lures the Pirate, and corrupts the Friend. Or heal, old Narfes, thy obfcener ail,

B. It raise Armies in a Nation's aid:

30 With all th',embroidery plaifter'd at thy tail? 90 They might (were Harpax not too wife to spend) Give Harpax felf the bleffing of a Friend;

P. But bribes a Senate, and the Land 's betray'd.
In vain may Heroes figlit, and Patriots rave,
If fecret Gold fap on from knave to knave.
Once, we confefs, beneath the Patriot's cloak, 35
From the crack'd bag the dropping Guinea spoke,
And jingling down the back-ftairs, told the crew,
Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Bleft Paper-credit laft and best supply!
That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly !
Gold, imp'd by thee, can compafs hardest things,
Can pocket States, can fetch or carry Kings;
A fingle leaf thall waft an Army o'er,
Or fhip-off Senates to some distant Shore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, fcatter to and fro
Our fates and fortunes, as the wind fhall blow:
Pregnant with thousands flits the Scrap unfeen,
And filent fells a King, or buys a Queen.

40

45

95

Or find fome Doctor that would fave the life
Of wretched Shylock, fpite of Shylock's Wife:
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a College, or a Cat.
To fome, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
T'enrich a Baftard, or a Son they hate.

Perhaps you think the Poor might have their

heart:

105

The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for à rule That every man in want is knave or fool: "God cannot love fays Blunt, with tearless eyes) "The wretch he ftarves"-and piously denies; But the good Bishop, with a meeker air, Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care. Yet to be juft to thefe poor men of pelf, 50 Each does but hate his neighbour as himself: Damn'd to the Mines, an equal fate betides The Slave that digs it, and the Slave that hides. 110 B. Who fuffers thus, mere Charity should own, Must act on motives powerful, though unknown. P. Some War, fome Plague, or Famine, they forefee,

A wizard told him in these words our fate :

135

"At length Corruption, like a general flood,
"(So long by watchful Minifters withstood)
"Shall deluge all; and Avarice, creeping on,
Spread like a low-born mift, and blot the Sun;
"Statefman and Patriot ply alike the Stocks,
"Peerefs and Butler fhare alike the Box,
"And Judges job, and Bishops bite the town,
"And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown.
"See Britain funk in lucre's fordid charms,
"And France reveng'd of ANNI's and EDWARD's
❝ arms!"

140

'Twas no Court-badge, great Scrivener, fir'd thy
brain,

Nor lordly Luxury, nor City Gain:
No, 'twas thy righteous end, afham'd to fee
Senates degenerate, Patriots difagree,
And nobly wishing Party-rage to cease,
To buy both fides, and give thy Country

190

Curfe the fav'd candle, and unopening door;
While the gaunt maftiff, growling at the gate, 195
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.

Not fo his Son: he mark'd this oversight,
And then miftook reverse of wrong for right.
(For what to fhun, will no great knowledge need;

200

But what to follow, is a task indeed.)
Yet fure, of qualities deferving praise,
More go to ruin Fortunes, than to raise,
What flaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious 'Squire, and deep Divine !
Yet no mean motives this profufion draws,
205
His oxen perish in his country's cause;
Tis GEORGE and LIBERTY that crowns the
cup,

And Zeal for that great Houfe which eats him up.
The woods recede around the naked feat,

The Sylvans groan-no matter-for the Fleet: 210 peace. Next goes his Wool-to clothe our valiant bands: 150 Latt, for his Country's love, he fells his Lands.

"All this is madness," cries a fober fage: But who, my friend, has reason in his rage? "The Ruling Paffion, be it what it will, "The Ruling Paffion conquers reason ftill." Lefs mad the wildeft whimsey we can frame, Than even that Paffion, if it has no Aim; For though fuch motives Folly you may call, The Folly's greater to have none at all. Hear then the truth: "Tis Heaven each Paffion "fends,

"And different men directs to different ends. "Extremes in Nature equal good produce,

To town he comes, completes the nation's hope,
And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a
Pope.

215

220

And fhall not Britain now reward his toils,
155 Britain, that pays her Patriots with her Spoils?
In vain at Court the Bankrupt pleads his caufe,
His thanklefs Country leaves him to her Laws.
The Senfe to value Riches, with the Art
T' enjoy them, and the Virtue to impart,
Not meanly, or ambitiously pursu'd,
160 Not funk by floth, not rais'd by fervitude;
To balance Fortune by a juft expence,
Join with Economy, Magnificence;
With Splendor, Charity; with Plenty, Health; 225
Oh teach us, Bathurft! yet unfpoil'd by wealth!
That fecret rare, between th' extremes to move
Of mad Good-nature, and of mean Self-love.

170

Extremes in Man concur to general use."
Afk we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids feed-time, harveft, equal courfe maintain, 165
Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
Builds Life on Death, on Change Duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches, like infects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly.
Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his flore,
Sees but a backward steward for the Poor;
This year a Refervoir, to keep and fpare;
The next a Fountain, fpouting through his Heir,
In lavish ftreams to quench a Country's thirft, 175
And men and dogs fhall drink him till they burft.
Old Cotta fham'd his fortune and his birth,
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:
What though (the use of barbarous fpits forgot)
His kitchen vied in coolness with his grot?
His court with nettles, moats with creffes ftor'd,
With foups unbought and fallads bless'd his board?

180