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MR. FORTESCUE.

P. THERE are (I scarce can think it, but am told)
There are, to whom my Satire feems too bold :
Scarce to wife Peter complaifant enough,
And fomething faid of Chartres much too rough..
The lines are weak, another's pleas'd to fay,
Lord Fanny fpins a thousand such a day.
Tim'rous by nature, of the rich in awe,
I come to council learned in the Law:
You'll give me, like a friend both fage and free,
Advice; and (as you use) without a Fee.

F. I'd write no more.

P. Not write? but then I think,.
And for my foul I cannot fleep a wink..
I nod in company, I wake at night,
Fools rush into my head, and fo I write.

F. You could not do a worse thing for your life.
Why, if the nights feem tedious-take a wife:
Or rather truly, if your point be rest,
Lettuce and cowflip-wine; Probatum eft.
But talk with Celfus, Celfus will advife
Hartfhorn, or fomething that fhall clofe your eyes.
Or, if you needs muft write, write CAESAR's Praife,
You'll gain at least a Knighthood, or the Bays..

P. What? like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, and

fierce,

(verse,

With ARMS and GEORGE and BRUNSWICK crowd the
Rend with tremendous found your ears afunder,
With Gun, Drum, Trumpet, Blunderbufs and Thun-
Or nobly wild, with Budgel's fire and force, (der?
Paint angels trembling round his falling Horse?
F. Then all your mufe's fofter art display,
Let CAROLINA smooth the tuneful lay,
Lull with AMELIA's liquid name the Nine,
And fweetly flow thro' all the Royal Line.

P. Alas! few verfes touch their nicer ear;
They scarce can bear their Laureate twice a year;
And justly CAESAR fcorns the Poet's lays,
It is to History he trufts for Praise.

F. Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still,
Than ridicule all taste, blafpheme Quadrille,
Abuse the City's beft good men in metre,
And laugh at peers that put their truft in Peter.
Ev'n those you touch not, hate you.

P.

What should ail them! F. A hundred fmart in Timon and in Balaam: The fewer still you name, you wound the more; Bond is but one, but Harpax is a score.

P. Each mortal has his pleasure : none deny Scarfdale his Bottle, Darty his Ham-pye; Ridotta fips and dances, till the fee

;

The doubling Luftres dance as faft as fhe
F-loves the Senate, Hockley-hole his brother,
Like in all elfe, as one Egg to another.

I love to pour out all myself, as plain
As downright SHIPPEN, or as old Montagne :
In them, as certain to be lov'd as seen,
The Soul ftood forth, nor kept a thought within ;
In me what spots (for fpots I have) appear,
Will
prove
at least the Medium must be clear.
In this impartial glass, my Mufe intends
Fair to expofe myself, my foes, my friends;
Publish the prefent age, but where my text
Is Vice too high, reserve it for the next
My foes fhall with my life a longer date,
And ev'ry friend the less lament my fate.
My head and heart thus flowing thro' my quill,
Verfe-man or Profe-man, term me which you will,
Papift ot Proteftant, or both between,

Like good Erafmus in an honeft mean,
In moderation placing all my glory,

While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory.
Satire's my weapon, but am too discreet
To run a muck, and tilt at all I meet;
I only wear it in a land of Hectors,
Thieves, Supercargoes, Sharpers and Directors.
Save but our Army! and let Jove incrust
Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting ruft!
Peace is my dear delight-not FLEURY's more:
But touch me, and no minifter fo fore.
Whoe'er offends, at fome unlucky time
Slides into verfe, and hitches in a rhyme,
Sacred to Ridicule his whole life long,
And the fad burthen of fome merry fong.

Slander or Poifon dread from Delia's rage,
Hard words or hanging, if your Judge be Page.
From furious Sappho scarce a milder fate,
P-x'd by her love, or libell'd by her hate.
Its proper pow'r to hurt, each creature feels;
Bulls aim their horns, and Affes lift their heels;
'Tis a bear's talent not to kick, but hug;
And no man wonders he's not ftung by Pug.
So drink with Walters, or with Chartres eat,
They'll never poifon you, they'll only cheat;

Then, learned Sir? (to cut the matter fhort)
Whate'er my fate, or well or ill at Court,
Whether old age, with faint but chearful ray,
Attends to gild the Ev'ning of my day,
Or death's black wing already be display'd,
To wrap me in the univerfal fhade;
Whether the darken'd room te mufe invite,
Or whiten'd wall provoke the skew'r to write:
In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint,
Like Lee or Budgell, I will rhyme and print.
F. Alas young man! your days can ne'er be long,
In flow'r of Age you perish for a fong!
Plums and Directors, Shylock and his wife,
Will club their Testers, now, to take your life!

P. What? arm'd for virtue when I point the pen, Brand the bold front of fhameless guilty men; Dafh the proud Gamester in his gilded Car; Bare the mean Heart that lurks beneath a Star; Can there be wanting, to defend Her caufe, Lights of the Church, or Guardians of the Laws

Could penfion'd Boileau lafh in honest strain
Flatt'rers and Bigots ev'n in Louis' reign?
Could Laureate Dryden pimp and fry'r engage,
Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage?
And I not strip the gilding of a Knave,
Unplac'd, unpenfion'd, no man's heir, or flave?
I will, or perish in the gen'rous cause :

Hear this and tremble! you, who 'fcape the Laws.
Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave
Shall walk the world, in credit to his grave.
TO VIRTUE ONLY and HER FRIENDS A FRIEND,
The world beside may murmur, or commend.
Know, all the distant din that world can keep,
Rolls o'er my Grotto, and but fooths my fleep.
There, my retreat the best Companions grace,
Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place.
There ST. JOHN mingles with my friendly bowl
The Feaft of Reason and the Flow of foul:
And HE, whose lightning pierc'd th' Iberian Lines,
Now forms my Quincunx, and now ranks my vines,
Or tames the Genius of the ftubborn plain,
Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain.

Envy must own, I live among the Great,
No pimp of pleasure, and no spy of state,
With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er repeats,
Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heats;
To help who want, to forward who excell;
This, all who know me, know; who love me, tells
And who unknown defame me, let them be
Scribblers or Peers, alike are Mob to me.

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