Ah! fellow-lab'rers for the prefs, take heed,
And force nae fame that way, if ye wad fpeed:
Mankind must be, we hae na other judge,
And if they are displeas'd, why should we grudge?
If happily you gain them to your fide,
Then baldly mount your Pegasus and ride:
Value yourfell what only they defire;
What does not take, commit it to the fire.

Next him a penman, with a bluffer air,

Stands 'tween his twa best friends that lull his

care,

Nam'd" Money in baith Pouchés ;"—with three

lines,

Yclept a bill, he digs the Indian mines;

Jobs, changes, lends, extorfes, cheats, and grips, And no ae turn of gainfu' us'ry flips,

'Till he has won, by wife pretence and fnell,

As meikle as may drive his bairns to hell,
His ain lang hame.-This fucker thinks nane wife,
But him that can to immense riches rise:
Lear, honour, virtue, and fic heavenly beams,
To him appear but idle airy dreams,
Not fit for men of business to mind,
That are for great and golden ends defign'd.
Send for him, de'el!-'Till then, good men, take

care

To keep at distance frae his hook and fnare;

He

He has nae rewth, if coin comes in the play, He'll draw, indorfe, and horn to death his prey.

Not thus Macfomno pushes after praise,
He treats, and is admir'd in all he says:
Cash well bestow'd, which helps a man to pass
For wife in his ain thinking, that's an afs:

Poor fkybalds! curs'd with more of wealth than wit,

Blyth of a gratis gaudeamus, fit

With look attentive, ready all about,

To give the laugh when his dull joke comes out:
Accuftom'd with his converfation bright,

They ken, as by a watch, the time of night,
When he 's at fic a point of fic a tale,
Which to these parafites grows never stale,
Tho' often tald. Like Lethe's stream, his wine
Makes them forget-that he again may fhine.

Fy! fatire, ha'd thy tongue, thou art too rude "To jeer a character that seems fae good:

"This man may beet the poet bare and clung,
"That rarely has a fhilling in his fpung."
Hang him! there 's patrons of good fenfe enew,
To cherish and support the tuneful few,
Whose penetration 's never at a loss
In right diftinguishing of gold frae drofs:
Employ me freely if thou 'd laurels wear,
Experience may teach thee not to fear.

VOL. I.

A A

But

But fee anither gives mair cause for dread,
He thraws his gab, and aft he shakes his head;
A flave to felf-conceit and a' that 's four,
T' acknowledge merit is not in his pow'r.
He reads, but ne'er the author's beauties minds,
And has nae pleasure where nae faults he finds.
Much-hated gowk! tho' vers'd in kittle rules,
To be a wirrykow to writing fools.

They fell the greateft, only learn'd in words,
Which naithing but the cauld and dry affords;
Dar'ft thou of a' thy betters flighting speak,
That have nae grutten fae meikle, learning Greek?
Thy depth 's well kend, and a' thy filly vaunts,
To ilka folid thinker fhaw thy wants.

Thus cowards deave us with a thousand lies
Of dang❜rous vict'ries they have won in pleas:
Sae fhallow upftarts ftrive with care to hide
Their mean defcent, which inly gnaws their pride,
By counting kin, and making endless faird,
If that their grany's uncle's oye's a laird.
Scarcrows! hen-hearted! and ye meanly born!
Appear just what you are, and dread nae scorn;
Labour in words, keep hale your skins: why not?
Do well, and nane your laigh extract will quote,
But to your praife. Walk aff, till we remark

Yon little coxy wight that makes fic wark With tongue and gait: how croufly does he ftand! Ilis taes turn'd out, on his left haunch his hand;

The

The right beats time a hundred various ways,
And points the pathos out in a' he fays.

Wow! but he's proud, when amaist out of breath,
At ony time he clatters a man to death,
Wha is oblig'd fometimes t' attend the sot,
To fave the captiv'd buttons of his coat,
Thou dinfome jackdaw! ken 'tis a disease
This palfy in thy tongue that ne'er can please:
Of a' mankind, thou art the maist mistane,
To think this way the name of fage to gain.

Now, left I should be thought too much like thee, I'll give my readers leave to breathe a wee; If they allow my picture 's like the life, Mae shall be drawn; originals are rife.

AN ADDRESS OF THANKS

FROM THE SOCIETY OF RAKES

To the pious Author of an Effay upon improving and adding to the Strength of Great Britain and Ireland by Fornication.

We Noblemen, Barons, and Burgeffes of the forefaid Clafs, to the Rev. Dr. PHILOSARK, greeting:

THANKS and renown be ever thine,

O daring, fenfible divine!

Who in a few learn'd pages,

Like great Columbus, now discovers
A pleafing warld to a' young lovers,
Unken'd to by-past ages.

Down, down with the repenting-stools,
That gart the younkers look like fools
Before the congregation,

Since thou, learn'd youth of rifing fame,

Prov't that there 's neither fin nor fhame

In fimple fornication.

Now