But does the court a worthy man remove?
That instant, I declare, he has my love:
I shun his zenith, court his mild decline;
Thus Somers once and Halifax were mine.
Oft in the clear still mirror of retreat

75

I study'd Shrewsbury, the wise and great :
Carleton's calm sense and Stanhope's noble flame 80
Compar'd, and knew their gen'rous end the same:
How pleasing Atterbury's softer hour!

How shin'd the soul, unconquer'd, in the Tow'r!
How can I Pultney, Chesterfield, forget,

While Roman spirit charms, and Attic wit?

85

Argyle, the state's whole thunder born to wield,

And shake alike the senate and the field?

Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the throne,
The master of our passions and his own?

Names which I long have lov'd, nor lov'd in vain, 90
Rank'd with their friends, nor number'd with their

train;

And if yet higher the proud list should end,

Still let me say, no follower, but a friend.

Yet think nor friendship only prompts my lays;

I follow virtue; where she shines I praise.
Point she to priest or elder, Whig or Tory,
Or round a Quaker's beaver cast a glory.
I never (to my sorrow I declare)

Din'd with the Man of Ross or my Lord May'r.

95

Some in their choice of friends (nay, look not grave) Have still a secret bias to a knave :

To find an honest man I beat about,

And love him, court him, praise him, in or out.

F. Then why so few commended?

P. Not so fierce;

101

Find you the virtue, and I'll find the verse.

105

But random praise....the task can ne'er be done;
Each mother asks it for her booby son.

Each widow asks it for the best of men,

For him she weeps, and him she weds agen.

Praise cannot stoop, like Satire, to the ground; 110 The number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd. Enough for half the greatest of these days

115

To 'scape my censure, not expect my praise.
Are they not rich? what more can they pretend?
Dare they to hope a poet for their friend?
What Richleu wanted Louis scarce could gain,
And what young Ammon wish'd, but wish'd in vain.
No pow'r the Muses friendship can command;
No pow'r when Virtue claims it, can withstand.
To Cato, Virgil paid one honest line;

O let my country's friends illumine mine!
....What are you thinking?

F. Faith the thought's no sin;

I think your friends are out, and would be in.
P. If merely to come in, Sir, they go out,
The way they take is strangely round about.

120

125

F. They too may be corrupted, you'll allow ?
P. I only call those knaves who are so now.
Is that too little? come then, I'll comply....
Spirit of Arnall! aid me while I lie.
Cobham's a coward, Polwarth is a slave,
And Lyttleton a dark designing knave;
St. John has ever been a wealthy fool....
But let me add, Sir Robert's mighty dull,
Has never made a friend in private life,
And was, besides, a tyrant to his wife.

130

135

But pray, when others praise him do I blame?

Call Verres, Wolsey, any odious name ?

- Why rail they then if but a wreath of mine,
Oh all accomplish'd St. John! deck thy shrine !
What! shall each spur-gall'd hackney of the day,
When Paxton gives him double pots and pay, 141
Or each new-pension'd sycophant pretend

To break my windows if I treat a friend,

Then wisely plead to me they meant no hurt,

But 'twas my guests at whom they threw the dirt?

Sure if I spare the minister, no rules

146

Of honour bind me not to maul his tools;

Sure if they cannot cut, it may be said,

His saws are toothless, and his hatchets lead.

It anger'd Turrene, once upon a day,

150

To see a footman kick'd that took his pay;

But when he heard th' affront the fellow gave,
Knew one a man of honour, one a knave,
The prudent gen'ral turn'd it to a jest,

And begg'd he'd take the pains to kick the rest;
Which not at present having time to do....

156

F. Hold, Sir! for God's sake; where's the affront to you?

Against your worship when had S*****k writ?
Or P*ge pour'd forth the torrent of his wit?

Or grant the bard whose distich all commend, 160
(In pow'r a servant, out of pow'r a friend)
To W****le guilty of some venial sin,

What's that to you, who ne'er was out nor in?
The priest whose flattery bedropp'd the crown,
How hurt he you? he only stain'd the gown.
And how did, pray, the florid youth offend,
Whose speech you took, and gave it to a friend?
P. Faith it imports not much from whom it came;
Whoever borrow'd could not be to blame,
Since the whole house did afterwards the same.
Let courtly wits to wits afford supply,

165

171

As hog to hog in huts of Westphaly :

If one, thro' Nature's bounty or his lord's,
Has what the frugal dirty soil affords,

From him the next receives it, thick or thin,

175

As pure a mess almost as it came in ;
The blessed benefit, not there confin'd,
Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind;

From tail to mouth they feed and they carouse;

The last full fairly gives it to the house.

F. This filthy simile, this beastly line,

Quite turns my stomach....

P. So does flatt'ry mine;

And all your courtly civet-cats can vent,
Perfume to you, to me is excrement.

180

But hear me further....Japhet, 'tis agreed,

185

Writ not, and Chartres scarce could write or read; In all the courts of Pindus guiltless quite;

But pens can forge, my friend, that cannot write;
And must no egg in Japhet's face be thrown,
Because the deed he forg'd was not my own?
Must never patriot then declaim at gin,
Unless, good man! he has been fairly in?
No zealous pastor blame a failing spouse
Without a staring reas'ning on his brows?
And each blasphemer quite escape the rod,
Because the insult's not on man, but God?
Ask you what provocation I have had?
The strong antipathy of good to bad.
When truth or virtue an affront endures,

190

195

Th' affront is mine, my friend, and should be your's. Mine as a foe profess'd to false pretence,

201

Who think a coxcomb's honour like his sense;

Mine as a friend to ev'ry worthy mind;

And mine as man, who feel for all mankind.