Nor fear, if once ye break through general Laws, To draw in thousands, and gain our applause; Nor fear but Fame your merits shall make known, And female Bravos trample Hectors down; From Man himself you'll learn the art he boasts, Rule in his room, and govern in his posts. Thus does the Muse in vein didactic speak----[10] 240 "Go, from proud Man thy full instructions take; Learn from the Law, what gain its mazes yield; Learn of the Brave the police of the field; Thy arts of shuffling from the Courtier get; Learn of his Grace to stare away a debt; Learn from the Sot his poison to caress, Shake the mad room, and revel in excess; From Man all forms of grand deception find, And so be tempted to delude Mankind. Here frantic schemes of wild Ambition see; 250 There all the plots, my Fair! he lays for thee. Learn each small People's genius, humours, aims, The Jocky's dealing, and Newmarket games; How there in common wealth in currents go, And poverty and riches ebb and flow; And these for ever, though a Saint deny'd, To splendour or contempt their Masters guide; Mark the nice rules of modern honour well, Rules which the laws of Nature far excel. In vain thy fancy finer whims shall draw; 260 Good-breeding is as difficult as Law, And, form'd so complex, makes itself a science, To bid the Scholar and the Clown defiance. Go then, and thus thy present Lords survey, And let the Creatures feel they must obey; Learn all their Arts, be these thy choicest hoard, Be fear'd for these, and be for these ador'd." And where are these? within the Bowl they lie; Thence spring ambitious thoughts, there doubtings die; From thence we trace the horrors of a War, 270 Chaotic counsel, ministerial jar; This makes a gambling Lord, a Patriot vain, The Soldier's fury, and the Lover's pain; Fills Bedlam's wards with souls of ærial mould; This makes the Madman, this supplies the Scold; Here rules the one grand Passion in extreme, A love of lucre, or a love of fame; The Scholar's boast, the Politician's plan; Here shines the Bubble, and here falls the Man. Oh! happy fall of insolence and pride, 280 Which makes the humblest with the great allied; Which levels like the Grave all earthly things, For drunken Coblers are as proud as Kings; Which plucks the sons of grandeur from their sphere, For who is lower than a stagg'ring Peer? Yet here, ye Fair, tho' ev'ry Soul's the same, And Prince and Pedlar differ but in name, Folly with Fashion is discreetly grac'd, And, if all sin, not all can sin in taste; For who, ye Gods! would ever go astray, 290 If 'twas not something in a modish way?