Is never so welcome, is never so civil; With Absolute Tenets as stern as the Church’s, He lashes the failings his wealth can not purchase; Is ever awakening his Enemies’ Slumber, Lamenting his Foes, yet increasing their Number. So dirty, no Gentleman cares to go near him, And sensible Women don’t know how to bear him. His Wit is rebellious, and, as a Man’s Wife, 350 If it conquers him once, ’tis his Master for Life; And, though there are things it may chance to produce If it takes the right turn of an excellent use, Yet, ’tis plain to be seen, it extinguishes Merit And dashes the Efforts of Genius and Spirit.” But, not to perplex you with tedious Instruction, I hope this may serve for a good Introduction; And, leaving the rest of the Business to you, Beloved and Trusty, I bid you adieu! EPISTLE II. TO MIRA. ’Tis by Contrast we shine; without Withers and Prynne, What had Butler or Wits of that Century been? Or how, without Dunces, had Dryden or Pope The strength of their great Reputation kept up? The Pleasures we share from the Dawning of Light Are doubled by Thoughts of its following Night; And Virtue and Sweetness like yours shall repay us For poring so long over Satan’s Affairs. At your Company then do not think to repine: You the fairer appear—for by Contrast we shine. 10 What a Life, my dear Maid, do the Heavens decree For the Dreamers of Dreams, for the Learned—for me: Where pale Disappointment awakes to molest The Study-vex’d Head, and the Sorrow-torn Breast. Pity much, though you blame, the dull Spleen of your Swain, Who has Cause to deplore and, he thinks, to complain: That Fortune has soil’d the gay Dress of each Dream; That Time has o’erthrown every fairy-built Scheme; That thinking has slacken’d the Force of his Nerves, And his Study has met with——the Fate it deserves. 20 What a Plague was my Meaning to add to my own The Cares of a Kind which I need not have known! When Nature and Fortune had given their Part, ’Twas stupid to borrow Dejection from Art, And, with Trouble a pretty large Portion before, To pilfer Perplexities out of her Store. See the Fate of Ambition—contented with Rhyme, I had softened the Features of Sorrow and Time; Had play’d with the Evils I might not refuse, And soften’d their Frowns with the Tears of the Muse; 30 Had mov’d in Life’s Path with a Sigh and a Song, And laugh’d at her Rubs as I stumbled along. But, smitten with Science, I’ve laboured to lay A thousand impediments more in my way; And, because my poor Muse was too gentle a Guide To smooth the rough Way, and to sing by my Side, I’ve coveted Learning, a dangerous Thing To drag through the Road, and who never could sing. Of Substance I’ve thought, and the various Disputes On the Nature of Man, and the Notions of Brutes; 40