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EPISTLE VII.

Imitated in the Manner of Dr. SWIFT.

IS true, my I gave my word,

'T'I would be with you, June the third;

Chang'd it to Auguft, and (in fhort)
Have kept it—as you do at Court.
You humour me when I am fick,
Why not when I am fplenetick?
In town, what Objects could I meet?
The shops shut up in ev'ry street,
And Fun'rals black'ning all the Doors,
And yet more melancholy Whores :
And what a duft in ev'ry place?
And a thin Court that wants your Face,
And Fevers raging up and down,
And W* and H** both in Town!

"The dog-days are no more the cafe." 'Tis true, but Winter comes apace :

QUINQUE dies tibi pollicitus me rure futurum,
Sextilem totum mendax defideror. atqui,
Si me vivere vis fanum rectèque valentem ;
Quàm mihi das aegro, dabis aegrotare timenti,
Maecenas, veniam: dum ficus prima calorque
Defignatorem decorat lictoribus atris :

Dum pueris omnis pater, et matercula pallet;
Officiofaque fedulitas, et opella forenfis
Adducit febres, et teftamenta refignat.
Quod fi bruma nives Albanis illinet agris ;

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bard retire,

Then fouthward let your
Hold out fome months 'twixt Sun and Fire,
And
you
fhall fee the firft warm Weather,
Me and the Butterflies together.

My Lord, your Favours well I know;
'Tis with diftinction you bestow;
And not to ev'ry one that comes,
Juft as a Scotfman does his Plums.

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Pray take them, Sir-Enough's a Feast:
"Eat fome, and pocket up the reft"-
What, rob your Boys? thofe pretty rogues!
"No, Sir, you'll leave them to the Hogs."
Thus Fools with Compliments befiege ye,
Contriving never to oblige ye.
Scatter your favours on a Fop,
Ingratitude's the certain crop ;
And 'tis but juft, I'll tell you wherefore,
You give the things you never care for.
A wife man always is or fhou'd

Be mighty ready to do good;

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Ad mare defcendet vates tuus, et fibi parcet,
Contractufque leget; te, dulcis amice, revifet
Cum Zephyris, fi concedes, et hirundine primâ.

Non, quo more pyris vefci Calaber jubet hofpes,
Tu me fecifti locupletem. Vefcere fodes.
Jam fatis eft. At tu quantumvis tolle. Benigne.
Non invifa feres pueris munufcula parvis.
Tam teneor dono, quàm fi dimittar onuftus.
Ut libet haec porcis hodie comedenda relinques.
Prodigus et ftultus donat quae fpernit et odit :
Haec feges ingratos tulit et feret omnibus annis.
Vir bonus et fapiens, dignis ait effe paratum !

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But makes a diff'rence in his thought
Betwixt a Guinea and a Groat.

Now this I'll fay, you'll find in me
A fafe Companion, and a free;
But if you'd have me always near —
A word, pray, in your Honour's car.
I hope it is your Refolution
To give me back my Conftitution!
The fprightly Wit, the lively Eye,
Th' engaging Smile, the Gaiety,
That laugh'd down many a Summer Sun,
And kept you up so oft till one :
And all that voluntary Vein,
As when Belinda rais'd my Strain.

A Weazel once made fhift to flink
In at a Corn-loft through a Chink;
But having amply ftuff'd his fkin,
Could not get out as he got in:
Which one belonging to the House
('Twas not a Man, it was a Moufe)
Obferving, cry'd, "You 'fcape not fo,
"Lean as you came, Sir, you muft

go."

Nec tamen ignorat, quid diftent aëra lupinis ?
Dignum praeftabo me, etiam pro laude merentis.
Quod fi me noles ufquam difcedere; reddes
Forte latus, nigros angufta fronte capillos:
Reddes dulce loqui:, reddes ridere decorum, et
Inter vina fugam Cynarae moerere protervae.

Forte per anguftam tenuis vulpecula rimam
Repferat in cumeram frumenti: pastaque, rurfus
Ire foras pleno tendebat corpore frustra,
Cui muftela procul, Si vis, ait, effugere istinc;
Macra cavum repetes arctum, quem macra subisti.

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Sir, you may spare your Application,
I'm no fuch Beast, nor his Relation ;
Nor one that Temperance advance,
Cramm'd to the Throat with Ortolans:
Extremely ready to refign

All that may make me none of mine.
South-fea Subfcriptions take who please,
Leave me but Liberty and Eafe.
"Twas what I faid to Craggs and Child,
Who prais'd my Modefty, and fmil'd.
Give me, I cry'd (enough for me),
My Bread, and Independency!
So bought an Annual-rent or two,
And liv'd-juft as you fee I do;
Near fifty, and without a Wife,
I trust that finking Fund, my Life.
Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well,
Shrink back to my Paternal Cell,
A little Houfe, with Trees a-row,
And, like its Master, very low.
There dy'd my Father, no man's Debtor,
And there I'll die, nor worfe nor better.

Hac ego fi compellar imagine, cuncta refigno;
Nec fomnum plebis laudo fatur altilium, nec
Otia divitiis Arabum liberrima muto.

Saepe verecundum laudâfti: Rexque, Paterque
Audîti coram, nec verbo parcius abfens :
Infpice, fi poffum donata reponere laetus.

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Parvum parva decent. mihi jam non regia Roma,
Sed vacuum Tibur placet, aut imbelle Tarentum.

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To fet this Matter full before ye,
Our old Friend Swift will tell his Story.
"Harley, the Nation's great Support,"→
But you may read it, I ftop fhort.

Strenuus et fortis, caufifque Philippus agendis Clarus, &c.

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SATIRE VI.

The first Part imitated in the Year 1714, by Dr. SWIFT; the latter Part added afterwards.

I'VE

"VE often wifh'd that I had clear
For life, fix hundred pounds a-year,
A handsome House to lodge a Friend,
A River at my Garden's end,
A Terras-walk, and half a Rood
Of Land, fet out to plant a Wood.
Well, now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
But here a Grievance feems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;
'I can't but think 'twould found more clever,
To me and to my Heirs for ever.1

Hoc

erat in votis: modus agri non ita magnus,
Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquae fons,
Et paulum filvae fuper his foret. auctius, atque
Dî melius fecere. bene eft. nil amplius oro,
Maia nate, nifi ut propria haec mihi munera faxis.

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