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B. And what? no monument, infcription, stone ? His race, his form, his name almost unknown?

P. Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame, Will never mark the marble with his Name: 286 Go, search it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history; Enough, that Virtue fill’d the space between ; Prov'd, by the ends of being, to have been. 290 When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights attend The wretch, who living fav'd a candie's end : Should'ring God's altar a vile image stands, Belies his features, nay extends his hands;

supposed: hut for being outshined in their own proper pretenfions to Splendor and Magnificence.

Ver. 287. Go, search it therc,] The parish-register.

Ver. 293. Should'ring God's altar a vile image fiards, Belies bis features, nay extends bis hands;] The description is inimitable. We see him should'ring the altar like one who impiously affected to draw off the reverence of God's worshipers, from the sacred table, upon himself; whose Features too the sculptor had belied by giving them the traces of humanity: And, what was still a more impudent flattery, had insinuated, by extending his bands, as if that humanity had been, some time or other, pur into act.

VARIATIONS.
Ver. 287. thus in the MS.

The Register inrolls him with his Poor,
Tells he was born, and dy'd, and tells no more.
Just as he ought, he fillid the Space between ;
Then Acle to ref, unheeded and unseen,

That live-long wig which Gorgon's self might own, Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.

296 Behold what blessings Wealth to life can lend ! And see, what comfort it affords our end. In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, The floors of plaifter, and the walls of dung, 300 On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow itrove with dirty red, Great Villers lies---alas! how chang'd from him, That life of pleasure, and that foul of whim! 306 Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove, The bow'r of wanton Shrewsbury and love ;

VER. 296. Eternal buckle takes in Parian fone.] The poet ridicules the wretched taste of carving large perriwigs on busto's, of which there are several vile examples in the tombs at Westminster, and elsewhere.

VER. 305. Great Villers lies--] This Lord, yet more famous, for his vices than his misfortunes, having been possessed of about 50,000 l. a year, and passed through many of the highest posts in the kingdom, died in the year 1687, in a remote inn in. Yorkshire, reduced to the utmost misery.

VER, 307. Cliveden] A delightful palace, on the banks of the Thames, built by the D. of Buckingham.

VER. 308. Shrewsbury] The Countess of Shrewsbury, a woman abandoned to gallantries. The Earl her husband was killed by the Duke of Buckingham in a duel; and it has been said, that during the combat she held the Duke's horses in the

habit of a page.

Or just as gay, at Council, in a ring
Of mimick'd Statesmen, and their merry King. 310
No Wit to flatter, left of all his store !
No Fool to laugh at, which he valu'd more.
There, Victor of his health, of fortune, friends,
And fame; this lord of useless thousands ends.

His Grace's fate fage Cutler could foresee, 315 And well (he thought) advis'd him, “ Live like

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As well his Grace reply'd, “ Like you, Sir John ?
“ That I can do, when all I have is gone."
Resolve me, Reason, which of these is worse,
Want with a full, or with an empty purse? 320
Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confess’d,
Arife, and tell me, was thy death more bless’d?
Cutler faw tenants break, and houses fall,
For very want; he could not build a wall.
His only daughter in a stranger's pow'r, 325
For very want; he could not pay a dow'r.

Ver. 312. No Fool to laugh at, which he valu'd more.] That is, he liked disguised Aattery better than the more direct and avowed. And no wonder a man of wit should have this taste. For the taking pleasure in fools, for the sake of laughing at them, is nothing else but the complaisance of flattering ourselves, by an advantageous comparison, which the mind makes between itself and the object laughed at. Hence too we may fee the Reason of mens preferring this to other kinds of flattery. For we are always inclined to think that work beft done which we do ourselves,

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A few grey hairs his rev'rend temples crown'd,
'Twas very want that sold them for two pound.
What ev’n deny'd a cordial at his end,
Banish'd the doctor, and expell’d the friend? 330
What but a want, which you perhaps think mad,
Yet numbers feel, the want of what he had !
Cutler and Brutus, dying both exclaim,
r6 Virtue ! and Wealth! what are ye but a name!''

Say, for such worth are other worlds pepar'd ?
Or are they both, in this their own reward ? 336
A knotty point ! to which we now proceed.
But you are tird—I'll tell a tale-B. Agreed.

P. Where London's column, pointing at the skies
Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lyes; 340
There dwelt a Citizen of sober fame,
A plain good man, and Balaam was his name;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth;
His word would pass for more than he was worth.
One folid dish his week-day meal affords,

345 An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's :

VER. 339. Where London's column,] The Monument, built in the memory of the fire of London, with an inscription, im. porting that city to have been burnt by the Papists.

VARIATIONS.
Ver. 337. in the former Editions,

That knotty point, my Lord, shall I discuss,

Or tell a tale ? - A Tale. It follows thus,
Vol. III.

M

Constant at Church, and Change; his gains were sure, His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.

The Dev'l was piqu'd such saintship to behold, And long'd to tempt him like good Job of old : 350 But Satan now is wiser than of yore, And tempts by making rich, not making poor.

Rouz’d by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds fweep The surge, and plunge his Father in the deep; Then full against his Cornish lands they roar, 355 And two rich fhip-wrecks bless the lucky shore.

Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes : “ Live like yourself,” was soon my Lady's word; And lo! two puddings smoak'd upon the board. 360

Asleep and naked as an Indian lay, An honeft factor stole a Gem away: He pledg'd it to the knight; the knight had wit, So kept the Di'mond, and the rogue was bit. Some fcruple rose, but thus he eas'd his thought, “ I'll now give fix-pence where I gave a groat; 366

VER. 355. Cornish] The author has placed the scene of these Thipwrecks in Cornwall, not only from their frequency on that coast, but from the inhumanity of the inhabitants to those to whom that misfortune arrives : When a ship happens to be stranded there, they have been known to bore holes in it, to prevent its getting off; to plunder, and sometimes even to malsacre the people: Nor has the Parliament of England been yet able wholly to suppress these barbarities,

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