Some, dead to shame, and of those shackles proud Which Honour scorns, for slavery roar aloud; Others, half-palsied only, mutes become, And what makes Smollett write, makes Johnson dumb. Why turns yon villain pale? Why bends his eye Inward, abash'd, when Murphy passes by? Dost thou sage Murphy for a blockhead take, Who wages war with Vice for Virtue's sake? No, no, like other worldlings, you will find He shifts his sails and catches every wind. 260 His soul the shock of Interest can't endure: Give him a pension then, and sin secure. With laurell'd wreaths the flatterer's brows adorn: Bid Virtue crouch, bid Vice exalt her horn; Bid cowards thrive, put Honesty to flight, Murphy shall prove, or try to prove it right. Try, thou state-juggler, every paltry art; Ransack the inmost closet of my heart; Swear thou'rt my friend; by that base oath make way Into my breast, and flatter to betray. 270 Or, if those tricks are vain; if wholesome doubt Detects the fraud, and points the villain out; Bribe those who daily at my board are fed, And make them take my life who eat my bread. On Authors for defence, for praise depend; Pay him but well, and Murphy is thy friend: He, he shall ready stand with venal rhymes, To varnish guilt, and consecrate thy crimes; To make Corruption in false colours shine, And damn his own good name, to rescue thine. 280 But, if thy niggard hands their gifts withhold, And Vice no longer rains down showers of gold, Expect no mercy; facts, well-grounded, teach, Murphy, if not rewarded, will impeach. What though each man of nice and juster thought, Shunning his steps, decrees, by Honour taught, He ne'er can be a friend, who stoops so low To be the base betrayer of a foe? What though, with thine together link'd, his name Must be with thine transmitted down to shame? 290 To every manly feeling callous grown, Rather than not blast thine, he 'll blast his own. To ope the fountain whence sedition springs, To slander government, and libel kings; With Freedom's name to serve a present hour, Though born and bred to arbitrary power; To talk of William with insidious art, Whilst a vile Stuart's lurking in his heart; And, whilst mean Envy rears her loathsome head, Flattering the living, to abuse the dead, 300 Where is Shebbeare?[173] Oh, let not foul reproach, Travelling thither in a city-coach, The pillory dare to name: the whole intent Of that parade was fame, not punishment; And that old staunch Whig, Beardmore,[174] standing by, Can in full court give that report the lie. With rude unnatural jargon to support, Half-Scotch, half-English, a declining court; To make most glaring contraries unite, And prove beyond dispute that black is white; 310 To make firm Honour tamely league with Shame, Make Vice and Virtue differ but in name; To prove that chains and freedom are but one,