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But rebel Wit deferts thee oft' in vain;
Loft in the maze of words he turns again, And feeks a furer ftate, and courts thy gentle reign.
Afflicted Senfe thou kindly doft fer free,
And routed Reafon finds a fafe retreat in thee.
With thee in private modeft Dulness lies, And in thy bofom lurks in Thought's difguife; Thou varnifher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wife!
Yet thy indulgence is by both confest;
And 'tis in thee at laft that Wisdom feeks for reft.
Silence the knave's repute, the whore's good name, The only honour of the wifhing dame; Thy very want of tongue makes the a kind of Fame.
But could'st thou feize fome tongues that now are
How Church and State fhould be oblig'd to thee? At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome would't. thou
Yet speech ev'n there, fubmiffively withdraws, From rights of fubjects, and the poor man's caufe: Then pompous Silence reigns, and ftills the n oily Laws
Palt fervices of friends, good deeds of foes, What Fav'rites gain, and what the Nation owes, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.
The country wit, religion of the town, The courtier's learning, policy o'th' gown, Are belt by thee exprefs'd; and fhine in thee alone.
The parfon's cant, the lawyer's sophistry, Lord's quibble, critic's jett; all end in thee, All rest in peace at laft, and fleep eternally.
E. of DORSET.
HO' Artemifia talks, by fits,
Of councils, claffics, fathers, wits;
Haughty and huge as High Dutch bride,
Arę oddly join'd by fate :
On her large fquab you find her fpread,
That lies and ftinks in state.
She wears no colours (fign of grace)
All white and blak befide :
Dauntless her look, her gefture proud,
And mafculine her stride.
So have I feen, in black and white
A ftately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
HRYNE had talents for mankind,
Her learning and good breeding fuch,
Spaniards or French came to her:
Obfcure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
And flutters in her pride.
So have I known thofe Infects fair
Still gain new Titles with new forms;
The Happy Life of a COUNTRY PARSON.
PARSON, thefe things in thy poffefling
Are better than the Bifhop's blessing.
A Wife that makes conferves; a Steed
Tythe Pig, and mortuary Guinea:
A Chryfoftom to fmooth thy band in.
the clofe of all.
He that has thefe, may pafs his life,
Drink with the 'Squire, and kifs his wife;
And faft on Fridays
if he will;
Toaft Church and Queen, explain the News
Talk with Church - Wardens about Pews,
Pray heartily for fome new Gift.
And fhake his head at Doctor St.
The End of the SECOND VOLUME.