The statesman rakes the town to find a
And dreams of forfeitures by treafon got. Nor lefs Tom-t--d-man of true ftatesman mold
Collects the city filth in fearch of gold.
Orphans around his bed the lawyer fees,
And takes the plaintiff's and defendant's
fees.
His fellow pick-purfe, watching for a job,
Fancies his fingers in the cully's fob.
The kind phyfician grants the husband's
pray'rs,
Or gives relief to long-expecting heirs.
The fleeping hangman ties the fatal noose,
Nor unfuccefsful waits for dead mens fhoes.
The grave divine with knotty points
As if he was awake, nods o'er his text: While the fly mountebank attends his trade, Harangues the rabble, and is better paid.
The hireling fenator of modern days Bedaubs the guilty great with nauseous praise:
And Dick the fcavenger with equal grace Flirts from his cart the mud in ---'s face.
Vifiting me in my fickness, October 1727.
ALLAS, obferving Stella's wit
Was more than for her sex was fit,
And that her beauty foon or late
Might breed confufion in the state,
In high concern for human-kind,
Fixt honour in her infant mind.
But, (not in wranglings to engage
With fuch a ftupid vicious age)
If honour I would here define,
It answers faith in things divine.
As nat'ral life the body warms,
And, scholars teach, the foul informs
So honour animates the whole,
And is the spirit of the foul.
Those num'rous virtues, which the tribe
Of tedious moralifts describe,
And by fuch various titles call,
True honour comprehends them all.
Let melancholy rule fupreme,
Choler prefide, or blood, or phlegm,
It makes no diff'rence in the cafe,
Nor is complexion honour's place.
But, left we should for honour take
The drunken quarrels of a rake;
Or think it feated in a scar,
Or on a proud triumphal car,
Or in the payment of a debt
We lose with sharpers at picquet;
Or when a whore in her vocation
Keeps punctual to an affignation;
Or that on which his lordship fwears,
When vulgar knaves wou'd lofe their cars;
Let Stella's fair example preach
A leffon, fhe alone can teach.
In points of honour to be try'd
All paffions must be laid afide:
Afk no advice, but think alone;
Suppose the question not your own:
How fhall I act? is not the cafe ;
But how wou'd Brutus in my place?
In fuch a cafe wou'd Cato bleed?
And how wou'd Socrates proceed?
Drive all objections from your mind,
Else you relapse to human-kind;
Ambition, avarice, and luft,
And factious rage, and breach of trust,
And flatt'ry tipt with naufecus fleer,
And guilty fhame, and fervile fear,
Envy, and cruelty, and pride,
Will in your tainted heart prefide.
Heroes and heroines of old
By honour only were enroll'd
Among their brethren in the fkies,
To which (though late) fhall Stella rife.
Ten thousand oaths upon record
Are not fo facred as her word:
The world shall in its atoms end,
E're Stella can deceive a friend.
By honour feated in her breast
She still determines what is best:
What indignation in her mind
Against enflavers of mankind!
Base kings, and minifters of state,
Eternal objects of her hate.
She thinks, that nature ne'er defign'd
Courage to man alone confin'd:
Can cowardice her fex adorn,
Which most exposes ours to scorn?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears;
For Stella never learn'd the art
At proper times to scream and start;
Nor calls up all the house at night,
And fwears the faw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because fhe heard a fudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.
Her hearers are amaz'd, from whence Proceeds that fund of wit and sense;
Which, tho' her modefty would fhroud,
Breaks like the fun behind a cloud;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through ev'ry motion steals.
Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, miftook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he ftole
The fire, that forms a manly foul;
Then, to complete it ev'ry way,
He moulded it with female clay :
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would ingratitude delight,
And how would cenfure glut her fpight,
If I fhould Stella's kindness hide
In filence, or forget with pride?
When on my fickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lamenting in unmanly ftrains,
Call'd ev'ry pow'r to ease my pains,
Then Stella ran to my relief
With chearful face, and inward grief;
And, though by heav'n's fevere decree
She fuffers hourly more than me,
No cruel mafter could require
From flaves employ'd for daily hire
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd,
With vigour and delight perform'd:
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