What are the grounds, from whence thou doft prepare To undertake, fo young, fo vast a care?
Perhaps thy wit (a chance not often heard,
That parts and prudence fhould prevent the beard):
'Tis feldom feen, that fenators fo young
Know when to speak, and when to hold their tongue.
Sure thou art born to fome peculiar fate;
When the mad people rife against the state,
To look them into duty: and command
An awful filence with thy lifted hand.
Then to befpeak them thus: Athenians, know
Against right reafon all your counfels go;
This is not fair; nor profitable that;
Nor t'other queftion proper for debate.
But thou, no doubt, canst set the business right,
And give each argument its proper weight:
Know'ft, with an equal hand, to hold the scale:
Seeft where the reasons pinch, and where they fail,
And where exceptions o'er the general rule prevail.
And, taught by infpiration, in a trice,
Canft punish crimes, and brand offending vice.
Leave, leave to fathom fuch high points as these,
Nor be ambitious, ere the time to please:
Unfeasonably wife, till age, and cares,
Have form'd thy foul, to manage great affairs.
Thy face, thy fhape, thy outfide, are but vain.;
Thou haft not strength fuch labours to fustian :
Drink hellebore, my boy, drink deep, and purge thy
What aim'st thou at, and whither tends thy care,
In what thy utmoft good? Delicious fare;
And, then, to fun thyself in open air.
Hold, hold; are all thy empty wishes fuch?
A good old woman would have faid as much.
But thou art nobly born, 'tis true; go boaft
Thy pedigree, the thing thou valu’st most :
Befides, thou art a beau: what's that, my child?
A fop well drest, extravagant, and wild :
She, that cries herbs, has lefs impertinence;
And, in her calling, more of common fenfe.
None, none defcends into himself, to find
The secret imperfections of his mind :
But every one is eagle-ey'd, to fee
Another's faults, and his deformity.
Say, dost thou know Vectidius? Who, the wretch
Whofe lands beyond the Sabines largely stretch;
Cover the country, that a failing kite
Can fcarce o'er-fly them, in a day and night;
Him dost thou mean, who, fpight of all his store,
Is ever craving, and will still be poor?
Who cheats for half-pence, and who doffs his coat,
To fave a farthing in a ferry-boar?
Ever a glutton at another's coft,
But in whofe kitchen dwells perpetual frost?
Who eats and drinks with his domeftic flaves;
A verier hind than any of his knaves?
Born with the curfe and anger of the Gods,
And that indulgent genius he defrauds ?
At harvest-home, and on the fheering-day,
When he should thanks to Pan and Pales pay,
And better Ceres; trembling to approach
The little barrel, which he fears to broach.:
He 'fays the wimble, often draws it back,
And deals to thirsty servants but a finack.
To a short meal he makes a tedious grace,
Before the barley-pudding comes in place :
Then, bids fall on; himself, for faving charges,
A peel'd flic'd onion eats, and tipples verjuice.
Thus fares the drudge: but thou, whofe life's a dream
Of lazy pleasures, tak'st a worse extreme.
'Tis all thy business, business how to shun;
To bask thy naked body in the fun;
Suppling thy ftiffen'd joints with fragrant oil:
Then, in the fpacious garden, walk a while,
To fuck the moisture up, and foak it in :
And this, thou think'st, but vainkly think ft, unseen.
But, know, thou art obferv'd: and there are those
Who, if they durft, would all thy fecret fins expofe.
The depilation of thy modest part:
Thy catamite, the darling of thy heart,
His engine-hand, and every lewder art.
When, prone to bear, and patient to receive,
Thou tak ft the pleasure which thou canst not give.
With odorous oil thy head and hair are fleek;
And then thou kemb'ft the tuzzes on thy cheek:
Of thefe thy barbers take a coftly care,
While thy falt tail is overgrown with hair,
Not all thy pincers, nor unmanly arts,
Can smooth the roughness of thy fhameful parts. Not five, the strongest that the Circus breeds, From the rank foil can root those wicked weeds: Though fuppled first with soap, to ease thy pain, The stubborn fern fprings up, and fprouts again. Thus others we with defamations wound, While they ftab us; and fo the jeft goes round. Vain are thy hopes, to 'fcape cenforious eyes; Truth will appear through all the thin difguise; Thou haft an ulcer which no leech can heal, Though thy broad fhoulder-belt the wound conceal. Say thou art found and hale in every part, We know, we know thee rotten at thy heart, We know thee fullen, impotent, and proud: Nor canft thou cheat thy nerve, who cheat'ft the croud. But when they praise me, in the neighbourhood, When the pleas'd people take me for a God, Shall I refufe their incenfe? Not receive The loud applaufes which the vulgar give? If thou doft wealth, with longing eyes, behold; And, greedily, art gaping after gold; If fome alluring girl, in gliding by, Shal tip the wink, with a lascivious eye, And thou with a confenting glance, reply; If thou thy own folicitor become, And bid't arife the lumpish pendulum : If thy lewd luft provokes an empty storm, And prompts to more than nature can perform ;
If, with thy guards, thou scour'ft the streets by night,
And doft in murders, rapes, and spoils delight;
Please not thyself, the flattering crowd to hear;
'Tis fulfome ftuff to feed thy itching ear.
Reject the nauseous praifes of the times:
Give thy bafe poets back thy cobbled rhimes:
Survey thy foul, not what thou dost appear,
But what thou art; and find the beggar there,
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