O'erwhelm'd by politics, lie malice, pride,
Envy, and twenty other faults befide.
No more their little flutt'ring hearts confess
A paffion for applaufe, or rage for dress;
No more they pant for public raree-shows,
Or lofe one thought on monkeys or on beaux.
Coquets no more pursue the jilting plan,
And luftful prudes forget to rail at man.
The darling theme Cæcilia's felf will chufe,
Nor thinks of fcandal whilft fhe talks of news.
The Cit, a common-council-man by place,
Ten thousand mighty nothings in his face,
By fituation as by nature great,
With nice precision parcels out the state;
Proves and difproves, affirms and then denies,
Objects himself, and to himself replies;
Wielding aloft the politician rod,
Makes P- by turns a devil and a god;
Maintains, e'en to the very teeth of pow',
The fame thing right and wrong in half an hour.
Now all is well, now he fufpects a plot,
And plainly proves, whatever is, is not.
Fearfully wife, he shakes his empty head,
And deals out empires as he deals out thread.
His useless scales are in a corner flung,
And Europe's + balance hangs upon his tongue.
Female politicians abound among the fair fex, in the prefent day, who would be much better, and far more fuitably employed, in studying domeftic economy, than the state of the nation.
+A juft fatire upon some of the city common-councilmen, who, like Jacks in office, are very fond of hearing themselves talk, though God knowe they have nothing to say-to the purpose.
Peace to fuch triflers! Be our happier plan
To pass through life as eafy as we can.
Who's in or out, who moves this grand machine
Nor ftirs my curiofity nor spleen.
Secrets of ftate no more I wish to know
Than fecret movements of a puppet-show;
Let but the puppets move, I've my defire,
Unseen the hand which guides the master wire.
What is't to us, if taxes rife or fall?
Thanks to our fortune, we pay none at all.
Let muckworms, who in dirty aeres deal,
Lament thofe hardships which we cannot feel.
His Grace, who fmarts, may bellow if he pleases
But muft I bellow too, who fit at ease?
By cuftom fafe the poet's numbers flow,
Free as the light and air fome years ago.
No ftatesman e'er will find it worth his pains
To tax our labours, and excise our brains.
Burthens like these vile earthly buildings bear,
No tribute's laid on caftles in the air,
Let then the flames of war deftructive reign,
And England's terrors awe imperious Spain;
Let
every venal clan and neutral tribe
Learn to receive conditions, not prescribe;
Let each new-year call loud for new supplies,
And tax on tax with double burthens rife ;
*The pole tax fome years ago included the head with all its contents, and therefore in confequence the brains were not forgotten; though (it may be) in many instances the bead was not much the better for them.
Exempt we fit, by no rude cares opprest,
And, having little, are with * little bleft.
All real ills in dark oblivion lie,
And joys, by fancy form'd, their place supply.
Night's laughing hours unheeded flip away,
Nor one dull thought foretels approach of Day.
Thus have we liv'd; and whilst the Fates afford
Plain Plenty to fupply the frugal board;
Whilft Mirth, with Decency + his lovely bride,
And Wine's gay God, with Temp'rance by his fide,
Their welcome vifit pay; whilft Health attends
The narrow circle of our chofen friends;
Whilft frank Good-humour confecrates the treat,
And makes fociety complete;
Thus will we live, tho' in our teeth are hurl'd
Thofe hackney ftrumpets, Prudence and the World.
Prudence, of old a facred term, imply'd
Virtue, with godlike Wisdom for her guide;
But now,
in genʼral use, is known to mean
The ftalking-horse of Vice, and ‡ Folly's fcreen.
The fenfe perverted, we retain the name;
Hypocrify and Prudence are the fame.
A Tutor once, more read in men than books,
A kind of crafty knowledge in his looks,
It has been wittily obferved, Bleffed are they who have not much, for they can lofe but little.
+ Those whom the poet here has joined together, let no man putafunder.
It is the fashion of the gay world, however abfurd, to misname things; by which method fobriety is reckoned fqueamishness; prudence, hypocrify; virtue, want of fpirit; and impudence, the
Demurely fly, with high preferment blest,
His fav'rite pupil in these words addrest :
“Wouldst thou, my son, be wise and virtuous deem'd,
By all mankind a prodigy esteem'd;
Be this thy rule: Be what men prudent call;
Prudence, almighty Prudence, gives thee all.
Keep up appearances, there lies the test,
The world will give thee credit for the rest.
Outward be fair, however foul within ;
Sin if thou wilt, but then in secret fin.
This maxim's into common favour grown,
Vice is no longer vice, unless 'tis known.
Virtue indeed may barefac'd take the field
But vice is virtue when 'tis well conceal'd.
Should raging paffions drive thee to a whore,
Let Prudence lead thee to a postern door;
Stay out all night, but take especial care
That + Prudence brings thee back to early prayer.
As one with watching and with study faint,
Reel in a drunkard, and reel out a faint."
With joy the youth this useful leffon heard,
And in his mem❜ry ftor'd each precious word,
Successfully purfu'd the plan, and now,
"Room for my Lord-Virtue, ftand by and bow.”
And is this all?-Is this the worldling's art
To mask, but not amend a vicious heart?
* Prudence, one would think, should rather lead from, than 10, either the great or little doors of a brothel,
+ Worldly prudence may dictate the neceffity of fhunning outward flagrant crimes to fave appearances, and maintain the good opinion of our fellow creatures; but what will this avail in the eyes and estimation of the Deity?
Shall lukewarm caution, and demeanour grave,
For wife and good ftamp ev'ry fupple knave?
Shall wretches, whom no real virtue warms,
Gild fair their names and states with empty forms,
Whilst Virtue feeks in vain the wish'd-for prize,
Because, difdaining ill, fhe hates disguise;
Because she frankly pours forth all her store,
Seems what she is, and fcorns to pass for more
Well-be it fo-let vile diffemblers hold
Unenvy'd pow'r, and boaft their dear-bought gold
Me neither pow'r fhall tempt, nor thirst of pelf,
To+ flatter others, or deny myself.
Might the whole world be plac'd within my fpan,
I would not be that Thing, that Prudent Man.
What, cries Sir Pliant, would you then oppofe
Yourself, alone, against an host of foes?
Let not conceit, or peevish luft to rail,
Above all fenfe of intereft prevail.
Throw off, for fhame, this petulance of wit,
Be wife, be modeft, and for once submit:
Too hard the task 'gainft multitudes to fight;
You must be wrong, the ‡ World is in the right.
* Virtue being no friend to hypocrify or difguife, is little fuited to the taste of fycophants and flatterers, who never appear but in falfe colours:
By which they get themselves in place,
While real virtue's in difgrace.
+ A good refolution, if perfifted in and attended to, worthy the most exalted characters. Would to God all men would adopt it!
In the general, they who are called the world, are as good judges of right and wrong as a blind man is of colours.
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