With noble Profusion gives all he can give, And scorns to forsake them, so long as they live; In mystery deep, a great Metaphysician; In history known, and a rare Politician; A merry Companion, yet sage in due Places, 230 He knows good Behaviour and studies the Graces; Can the Springs of good Humour and Harmony feel— Not Stanhope himself could be half so genteel; Is the last to disturb them where people are gay, And the first to drive stupid Reflection away. Then spare him, ye Preachers, without whose assistance Your dull Congregations as well were at Distance; Retract your Abuse, wheresoever you’ve spread it, And lament your Attack on a Gentleman’s Credit. “Would you know the vile Sources of Sorrow and Grief, 240 We’re fully persuaded We’ll tell you the Chief. But, first, ’tis but right we our Talents should use To take from the Guiltless a Load of abuse. “Our Moralists tell us, indulg’d Inclinations Breed all our Disasters, and nurse our Vexations; That Sin, Satan’s Daughter, as Milton has told us, Has dealt to Mankind all the Plagues which enfold us. ’Tis false—I acquit her with lenient Sentence; The Plagues they describe are the Plagues of Repentance; And surely ’tis hard we should blame her for Woes 250 She strives to keep from us wherever she goes. To bully Devotion and banter her Laws, To seduce a Weak Mind, and to plead in the Cause, A Friend to betray, or a Father to wound, And revel in Folly’s fantastical round, Are Vices, they cry—but they make a Man known, Give Honour, give Pleasure, and Fame and Renown, Are Gentlemen’s Actions, and Joy must accrue From Actions which Gentlemen so often do; And, in spite of what Moralists tell us, I find 260 The antient Philosophers were of our Mind: Who, each in his Way, though to wisdom akin, Have labour’d to beautify some kind of Sin. Then why should we fear on dull Morals to trample, Who’re blest with the Boon of such noble Example? “To Sickness and cruel Disease are assign’d A part of the Sorrows which trouble Mankind; But do we not see how Mankind are agreed To be sick unto Death when there can be no Need? Why faints the soft Nymph? Why the Vapours and Spleen? What can Nameless Complaints and Infirmities mean— 271 The pain of a Moment, the Headache at will, Or the languor that’s cur’d without Julep or Pill? Why riots the Youth, so unhappily sleek? Why poisons the Maid the pure Blood in her Cheek? How happens it, Mortals are jumbled together Without Care in Crowds and in all kinds of Weather? Or why press the Throng at Assemblies so thick, If people had not a Delight to be sick? “What then are the Causes of human Distress? 280 Let Pedants and Preachers have Grace to confess: There’s nothing such varied Disasters can hit Like Religion and Virtue, Good Nature and Wit. “Religion, what horrid Opinions it starts,