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Yet more ; the diff'rence is as great between The optics seeing, as the objects seen. All manners take a tincture from our own, Or come discolor'd through our passions shown; Or Fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies, Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.

Nor will life's stream for observation stay, It hurries all too fast to mark their In vain sedate reflections we would make, When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.

40 Oft in the passion's wild rotation tost, Our spring of action to ourselves is lost: Tird, not determin’d, to the last we yield, And what comes then is master of the field. As the last image of that troubled heap, When sense subsides, and fancy sports in sleep, (Though past the recollection of the thought) Becomes the stuff of which our dream is wrought : Something as dim to our internal view, Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do. 50

True, some are open, and to all men known; Others so very close they're hid from none; (So darkness strikes the sense no less than light ;) Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at sight; And ev'ry child hates Shylock, though his soul 55 Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole. At half mankind when gen'rous Manly raves, All know 'tis virtue, for he thinks them knaves ;

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When universal homage Umbra pays,
All see 'tis vice, and itch of vulgar praise ; 60
When flatt'ry glares, all hate it in a queen,
While one there is who charms us with his spleen.

But these plain characters we rarely find; Though strong the bent, yet quick the turns of

mind : Or puzzling contraries confound the whole; 65 Or affectations quite reverse the soul, The dull, flat falsehood, serves for policy; And in the cunning, truth itself's a lie ; Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wise ; The fool lies hid in inconsistencies,

70 See the same man in vigor, in the gout; Alone, in company; in place, or out; Early at bus’ness, and at hazard late; Mlad at a fox-chase, wise at a debate ; Drunk at a borough, civil at a ball; Friendly at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall.

Catius is ever moral, ever grave, Thinks who endures a knave, is next a krave, Save just a dinner--then prefers, no doubt, A rogue with ven’son to a saint without. 80

Who would not praise Patricio's high desert, His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart, His comprehensive head! all int’rests weigh’d, All Europe sav'd, yet Britain not betray’d. He thanks you not, his pride is in Picquette, 85 New-Market fame, and judgment at a bett,

What made (say Montaigne, or more sage

Charron !)
Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon ?
A perjur'd prince a leaden saint revere,
A godless regent tremble at a star ?

90
The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit,
Faithless through piety, and dup'd through wit ?
Europe a woman, child, or dotard rule,
And just her wisest monarch made a fool ?

Know, God and Nature only are the same : 95 In man the judgment shoots at flying game: A bird of passage ! gone as soon as found, Now in the moon, perhaps now under ground. 98

PART II.

In vain the

sage,

with retrospective eye, 99 Would from th' apparent What conclude the Why, Infer the motive from the deed, and show That what we chanc'd, was what we meant to do. Behold! if Fortune, or a mistress frowns, Some plunge in bus'ness, others shave their crowns ; To ease the soul of one oppressive weight

105 This quits an empire, that embroils a state. The same adust complexion has impellid Charles to the convent, Philip to the field.

Not always actions shew the man; we find Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind : 110 Perhaps prosperity becalm'd his breast ; Perhaps the wind just shifted from the east;

Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat,
Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the

great.
Who combats bravely is not therefore brave; 115
He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave.
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise ;
His pride in reas’ning, not in acting, lies.

But grant that actions best discover man; 119 Take the most strong, and sort them if you can. The few that glare, each character must mark: You balance not the many in the dark. What will you do with such as disagree ? Suppress them? or miscal them policy? Must then at once (the character to save) 125 The plain rough hero turn a crafty knave ? Alas ! in truth, the man but chang'd his mind, Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not din'd. Ask why from Britain Cæsar would retreat ? Cæsar himself might whisper he was beat. 130 Why risk the world's great empire for a punk ? Cæsar perhaps might answer he was drunk. But, sage Historians, 'tis your task to prove One action conduct; one, heroic love.

'Tis from high life high characters are drawn: 135 A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn; A judge is just, a chanc'llor juster still ; A gowinan, learn'd; a bishop, what you will ; Wise, if a minister ; but if a king, More wise, more learn’d, more just, more ev'ry thing

140

Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate,
Born where Heav'n's influence scarce can penetrate:
In Life's low vale, the soil the virtues like,
They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
Though the same sun with all-diffusive rays 145
Blush in the rose, and in the di'mond blaze,
We prize the stronger effort of his pow'r,
And justly set the gem above the flow'r.

'Tis education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclin'd. 150
Boastful and rough, your first son is a 'squire;
The next a tradesman, meek, and much a liar;
Tom struts a soldier, open, bold, and brave;
Will sneaks a scriv'ner, an exceeding knave.
Is he a Churchman ? then he's fond of
pow'r;

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A Quaker ? sly; a Presbyterian ? sour ;
A smart Freethinker? all things in an hour.
Ask men's opinion; Scoto now shall tell
How trade increases, and the world goes well :
Strike off his pension by the setting sun,

160 And Britain, if not Europe, is undone.

That gay Freethinker, a fine talker once,
What turns him now a stupid, silent dunce ?
Some god or spirit he has lately found,
Or chanc'd to meet a minister that frown'd, 16ā

Judge we by Nature ? habit can efface,
Int’rest o'ercome, or policy take place.
By actions ? those uncertainty divides ;
By passions ? these dissimulation hides.

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