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But we unlucky and unwife

Muft fall, because our masters rise.

Richmond-L. My master scarce a fortnight fince

Was grown as wealthy as a prince;

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Shall keep the key of my no

Marble H. No more the Dean, that grave divine,

wine;

My icehouse rob, as heretofore,
And steal my artichoaks no more;
Poor Patty Blount no more be seen
Bedraggled in my walks fo green :
Plump Johnny Gay will now elope;
And here no more will dangle Pape..

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Richmond-L. Here wont the Dean, when he's to feek,

To fpunge a breakfait once a week;

To cry the bread was ftale, and mutter
Complaints against the royal butter.

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But now I fear it will be faid,

No butter flicks upon his bread.
We foon fhall find him full of spleen,
For want of tattling to the Queen;
Stunning her royal ears with talking;
His Pev'rence and her Highness walking:
Whilft Lady Charlotte, like a ftroller,
Sits mounted on the garden-roller.
A goodly fight to fee her ride
With ancient Mirmont † at her fide.
In velvet his head lies warm ;

cap

His hat for fhow beneath his arm.

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*Lady Charlotte de Rouffy, a French lady.

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Marquis de Mirmont, a Frenchman of quality.

Marble-H. Some South-fea broker from the city Will purchase me, the more's the pity;

Lay all my fine plantations wafte

To fit them to his vulgar taste;

Chang'd for the worse in ev'ry part,

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My mafter Pope will break his heart.

Richmond-L. In my own Thames may I be drownd

If e'er I ftoop beneath a crown'd head:
Except her Majefty prevails

To place me with the Prince of Wales;
And then I fhall be free from fears,
For he'll be Prince these fifty years.
I then will turn a courtier too,
And ferve the times, as others do.
Plain loyalty, not built on hope,
I leave to your contriver, Pope:
None loves his king and country better,
Yet none was ever lefs their debtor.

[ed,

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Marble-H. Then let him come and take a nap 85

In fummer on my verdant lap:

Prefer our villa's, where the Thames is,
To Kenfington, or hot St James's;
Nor fhall I dull in filence fit;

For 'tis to me he owes his wit:

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My groves, my echoes, and my birds,

Have taught him his poetic words.

We gardens, and you wilderneffes,

Affift all poets in diftreffes.

Him twice a-week I here expect;

To rattle Moody + for neglect;

An idle rogue, who spends his quartridge
In tipling at the dog and partridge;

And I can hardly get him down
Three times a-week to brush my gown.

The gardener.

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Richmond-L. I pity you, dear Marble-Hill; But hope to fee you flourish still.

All happiness and fo adieu.

Marble H. Kind Richmond-Lodge, the fame to you,

DESIRE AND POSSESSION.

Written in the year 1727.

"TIS ftrange, what diff'rent thoughts inspire
In men, poffeffion and defire!
Think what they wish fo great a bleffing;

So disappointed when poffeffing!

A moralift profoundly fage,

I know not in what book or page,
Or whether o'er a pot of ale,
Related thus the following tale.

Poffeffion, and defire his brother,
But still at variance with each other,
Were seen contending in a race;
And kept at first an equal pace :
"Tis faid, their course continu'd long;
For this was active, that was strong :
Till envy, flander, floth, and doubt,
Misled them many a league about.
Seduc'd by fome deceiving light,
They take the wrong way for the right:
Thro' flipp'ry by roads dark and deep
They often climb, and often creep.

Defire, the fwifter of the two,
Along the plain like lightning flew:
Till ent'ring on a broad highway,
Where power and tiles scatter'd lay,
He ftrove to pick up all he found,
And by excurfions loft his ground:

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No fooner got, than with disdain

He threw them on the ground again;
And hafted forward to pursue

Fresh objects fairer to his view;

In hope to fpring fome nobler game;
But all he took was just the same:
Too fcornful now to ftop his pace,
He fpurn'd them in his rival's face.
Poffeffion kept the beaten road;
And gather'd all his brother ftrow'd;
But overcharg'd, and out of wind,
Tho' ftrong in limbs, he lagg'd behind.

Defire had now the goal in fight:
It was a tow'r of monftrous height;
Where on the fummit Fortune ftands,
A crown and fceptre in her hands;
Beneath a chafm as deep as hell,
Where many a bold advent'rer fell.
Defire in rapture gaz'd a while,

And faw the treach'rous goddess smile;
But as he climb'd to grafp the crown,
She knock'd him with the fceptre down.
He tumbled in the gulf profound;
There doom'd to whirl an endless round.

Poffeffion's load was grown fo great,
He funk beneath the cumb'rous weight:
And as he now expiring lay,

Flocks ev'ry ominous bird of

prey;

The raven, vulture, owl, and kite,

At once upon his carcafe light,

And ftrip his hide, and pick his bones,
Regardless of his dying groans.

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ON CENSURE.

YE

Written in the year 1727.

wife, inftruct me to endure

An evil which admits no cure ;

Or how this evil can be born,

Which breeds at once both hate and scorn.

Bare innocence is no fupport,

When you are try'd in Scandal's court.
Stand high in honour, wealth, or wit;
All others who inferior fit,

Conceive themselves in confcience bound
To join, and drag you to the ground.
Your altitude offends the eyes.

Of those who want the pow'r to rife.
The world, a willing ftander-by,

Inclines to aid a fpecious lie:

Alas, they would not do you wrong,
But all appearances are strong.

YET whence proceeds this weight we lay

On what detracting people say?
For let mankind discharge their tongues
In venom, till they burft their lungs,
Their utmost malice cannot make
Your head, or tooth, or finger ake;
Nor fpoil your shape, diftort your face,
Or put one feature out of place;
Nor will you find your fortune fink,

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By what they speak, or what they think;

Nor can ten hundred thousand lies

Make you lefs virtuous, learn'd, or wife.

THE most effectual way to baulk Their malice, is-to let them talk.

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