That all proceed in one appointed track, Where none can stop, or take their journey back! Then what is vice or virtue?--Yet he'll rail At priests till memory and quotation fail; He reads, to learn the various ills they've done, And calls them vipers, every mother's son. He is the harlot's aid, who wheedling tries To move her friend for vanity's supplies; To weak indulgence he allures the mind, Loth to be duped, but willing to be kind; 170 And if successful--what the labour pays? He gets the friend's contempt and Chloe's praise, Who, in her triumph, condescends to say, "What a good creature Blaney was to-day!" Hear the poor dæmon when the young attend, And willing ear to vile experience lend; When he relates (with laughing, leering eye) The tale licentious, mix'd with blasphemy: No genuine gladness his narrations cause, The frailest heart denies sincere applause; 180 And many a youth has turn'd him half aside, And laugh'd aloud, the sign of shame to hide. Blaney, no aid in his vile cause to lose, Buys pictures, prints, and a licentious muse; He borrows every help from every art, To stir the passions and mislead the heart. But from the subject let us soon escape, Nor give this feature all its ugly shape: Some to their crimes escape from satire owe; Who shall describe what Blaney dares to show? 190 While thus the man, to vice and passion slave, Was, with his follies, moving to the grave, The ancient ruler of this mansion died, And Blaney boldly for the seat applied. Sir Denys Brand, then guardian, join'd his suit; "'Tis true," said he, "the fellow's quite a brute-- A very beast; but yet, with all his sin, He has a manner--let the devil in." They half complied, they gave the wish'd retreat, But raised a worthier to the vacant seat. 200 Thus forced on ways unlike each former way, Thus led to prayer without a heart to pray, He quits the gay and rich, the young and free, Among the badge-men with a badge to be. He sees an humble tradesman raised to rule The grey-beard pupils of this moral school; Where he himself, an old licentious boy, Will nothing learn, and nothing can enjoy; In temp'rate measures he must eat and drink, And, pain of pains! must live alone and think. 210 In vain, by fortune's smiles, thrice affluent made, Still has he debts of ancient date unpaid; Thrice into penury by error thrown, Not one right maxim has he made his own; The old men shun him--some his vices hate, And all abhor his principles and prate; Nor love nor care for him will mortal show, Save a frail sister in the female row. LETTER XV. _INHABITANTS OF THE ALMS-HOUSE._ CLELIA.