II

By land, by water, they renew the charge,
They ftop the chariot, and they board the barge.
No place is facred, not the church is free,
Ev'n Sunday fhines no Sabbath-day to me:
Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
Happy! to catch me, just at dinner-time.

Is there a parfon, much be-mus'd in beer, 15 A maudlin poetefs, a rhyming peer,

21

A clerk, foredoom'd his father's foul to cross,
Who pens a ftanza, when he should ingrofs?
Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, fcrawls
With defp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls?
All fly to TWIT'NAM, and, in humble ftrain,
Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
Arthur, whofe giddy fon neglects the Laws,
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the caufe:
Poor Cornus fees his frantic wife elope,
And curfes wit, and poetry, and Pope.

25

Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle fong),' What drop or noftrum can this plague remove? Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love?

NOTES.

Ver. 13. Mint.] A place to which infolvent debtors retired, to enjoy an illegal protection, which they were there fuffered to afford one another, from the perfecution of their creditors.

Ver. 23. Arthur.] Arthur Moore, Esq.

VARIATIONS.

After ver. 20: in the MS

Is there a bard in durance? turn them free,
With all their brandifl'd reams they run to me:
Is there a 'prentice, having feen two plays,
Who would do fomething in his fempftrefs' praise
Ver. 29 in the first edition,

Dear Doctor, tell me, is not this a curfe?
Say, is their anger or their friendthip worse?

A dire dilemma! either way I'm fped.

31 If foes, they write; if friends, they read me dead. Seiz'd and ty'd down to judge, how wretched I! Who can't be filent, and who will not lie : To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace; And to be grave, exceeds all pow'r of face. I fit with fad civility, I read

36

With honeft anguish, and an aching head;
And drop at laft, but in unwilling ears,
This faving counfel," Keep your piece nine years.
Nine years! cries he, who high in Drury-lane,
Lull'd by foft zephyrs through the broken pane,
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends,
Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends:

"The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it;
"I'm all fubmiflion, what you'd have it, make it."
Three things another's modest wishes bound, 47
My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.
Pitholeon fends to me: "You know his Grace,
"I want a patron; afk him for a place."
Pitholeon libell'd me----' "But here's a letter
"Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better,

NOTES.

Ver.38. honeft anguish,] i. e. undiffembled.

50

Ibid. an aching head;] Alluding to the diforder he was then fo conftantly afflicted with.]

Ver. 43. Rhymes ere he wakes,] An allufion to those words of Milton,

"Dictates to me flumb'ring, or infpires "Ealy my unpremeditated verfe."

Ver, 49. Pitholeon] The name taken from a foolish poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol. in Horat. 1. i. Dr Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon libelled Cæfar allo. See notes on Hor. fat. 1o. l. i.

"Dare

' Dare you refufe him? Curll invites to dine, "He'll write a Journal, or he'll turn divine." Blefs me! a packet." "Tis a ftranger fues, "A virgin tragedy, an orphan mufe."

56

If I dislike it, 66
Furies, death, and rage!"
If I approve," Commend it to the stage."
There (thank my ftars) my whole commiffion ends,
The play'rs and I are, luckily, no friends.
Fir'd that the house reject him, ""Sdeath I'll

print it,

60

"And fhame the fools----Your int'reft, Sir, with Lintot."

Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much;
"Not, Sir, if you revife it, and retouch."
All my demurs but double his attacks;

At laft he whispers, "Do; and we go fnacks."
Glad of a quarrel, ftraight I clap the door,
Sir, let me fee your works and you no more.
'Tis fung, when Midas' ears began to spring,
(Midas, a facred perfon and a king),
His very minifter who fpy'd them first,

65

70

(Some fay his queen), was forc'd to speak, or burst.

NOTES.

Ver. 69. 'Tis fung, when Midas', &c.] He means fung by Perfius; and the words alluded to are,

"Vidi, vidi ipfe, libelle!

"Auriculas afini Mida Rex habet."

Ver. 72. Queen] The ftory is told, by fome, of his barber; but by Chaucer, of his Queen. See Wife of Bath's tale in Dryden's fables.

Ver. 53

in the MS.

VARIATIONS.

If you refufe, he goes, as fates incline,

To plague Sir Robert, or to turn divine.

Ver. 60. In the former edition,

Cibber and I are luckily no friends.

And

And is not mine, my friend, a forer case,

When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face? 74. A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in dang'rous things,

80

I'd never name queens, minifters, or kings;
Keep close to ears, and those let affes prick,
'Tis nothing---P. Nothing? if they bite and kick?
Out with it, DUNCIAD! let the fecret pass,
That fecret to each fool, that he's an Afs:
The truth once told, (and wherefore should we lie?)
The Queen of Midas flept, and fo may I.
You think this cruel? take it for a rule,
No creature fmarts fo little as a fool.
Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break,
Thou unconcern'd canft hear the mighty crack:
Pit, box, and gall'ry in convulfions hurl'd,
Thou ftand'ft unshook amidst a bursting world.
Who fhames a fcribbler? break one cobweb thro',
He fpins the flight, felf-pleafing thread anew: 90
Destroy his fib or fophiftry, in vain,

The creature's at his dirty work again,
Thron'd in the centre of his thin defigns,
Proud of a vaft extent of flimfy lines!
Whom have I hurt? has poet yet, or peer,
Loft the arch'd eye-brow, or Parnaffian fneer?
And has not Colley fill his lord, and whore?
His butchers Henley, his free-mafons Moore?

NOTES.

84

95

Ver. 80. That fecret to each fool, that he's an afs:] i. e. that his ears (his marks of folly) are visible.

Ver. 88. Alluding to Horace,

Si fractus illabatur orbis,

Impavidum ferient ruinæ."

Ver. 98. Free-mafons Moore ?] He was of this fociety, and frequently headed their proceffions.

Does