Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty bless'd, 371 And Heaven beholds its image in his breast. Come then, my friend, my genius! come along; And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends, Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name VER. 373, in the MS. thus VARIATIONS. And now transported o'er so vast a plain, 380 390 Wilt thou, my St John! keep her course in Confine her fury, and assist her flight? Now scatter'd fools fly trembling from her heels, And all the study of mankind is Man. EPISTLE TO DR ARBUTHNOT; OR, PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES. ADVERTISEMENT. This paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begun many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occasions offered. I had no thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased some persons of rank and fortune (the authors of Verses to the Imitator of Horace,' and of an Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a Nobleman at Hampton Court') to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my writings (of which, being public, the public is judge) but my person, morals, and family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requisite. Being divided between the necessity to say something of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so awkward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the last hand to this epistle. If it have anything pleasing, it will be that by which I am most desirous to please, the truth and the sentiment; and if anything offensive, it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend, the vicious or the ungenerous. Many will know their own pictures in it, there being not a circumstance but what is true; but I have, for the most part, spared their names, and they may escape being laughed at, if they please. I would have some of them know, it was owing to the request of the learned and candid friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make not as free use of theirs as they have done of mine. However, I shall have this advantage and honour on my side, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can possibly be done by mine, since a nameless character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness. P. SHUT, shut the door, good John! 1 fatigued, I said, Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The Dog-star rages! nay, 'tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land. What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide? They pierce my thickets, through my grot they glide, By land, by water, they renew the charge, They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. No place is sacred, not the church is free, Even Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me: Good John:' John Serle, his old and faithful servant. 10 Then from the Mint 1 walks forth the man of rhyme, 13 Happy! to catch me, just at dinner-time. Is there a parson, much bemused in beer, A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws, Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause: And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, With honest anguish, and an aching head This saving counsel, 'Keep your piece nine years.' 20 20 30 40 Mint:' a place to which insolvent debtors retired, to enjoy an illegal protection, which they were there suffered to afford one another, from the persecution of their creditors.-P. Nine years!' cries he, who high in Drury-lane, 41 If I dislike it, Furies, death, and rage!' Not, sir, if you revise it, and retouch.' All my demurs but double his attacks; At last he whispers, 'Do; and we go snacks.' Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door : 50. 60 70 'Pitholeon:' The name taken from a foolish poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek.-P. VER. 53 in the MS. If you refuse, he goes, as fates incline, To plague Sir Robert, or to turn divine. VARIATIONS. VER. 60 in the former editionCibber and I are luckily no friends. His very minister who spied them first, (Some say his queen) was forced to speak, or burst. And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case, When every coxcomb perks them in my face? 71 A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in dangerous things. I'd never name queens, ministers, or kings; Keep close to ears, and those let asses prick, "Tis nothing P. Nothing? if they bite and kick? Out with it, Dunciad! let the secret pass, That secret to each fool, that he 's an ass: 80 The truth once told (and wherefore should we lie?) You think this cruel? Take it for a rule, Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break, The creature's at his dirty work again, Still to one bishop,3 Philips seem a wit? 90 100 Butchers, Henley:' Orator Henley used to declaim to the butchers in Newport market.-2 Freemasons, Moore:' he was of this society, and frequently headed their processions. Bishop Boulter: friend of Ambrose Philips. 36 |