Hear men, most loose, for decency declaim, And talk of character, without a name; See infidels assert the cause of God, And meek divines wield Persecution's rod; See men transferred to brutes, and brutes to men; See Whitehead take a place, Ralph[185] change his pen; 260 I mock the zeal, and deem the men in sport, Who rail at ministers, and curse a court. Thee, haughty as thou art, and proud in rhyme, Shall some preferment, offer'd at a time When Virtue sleeps, some sacrifice to Pride, Or some fair victim, move to change thy side. Thee shall these eyes behold, to health restored, Using, as Prudence bids, bold Satire's sword, Galling thy present friends, and praising those Whom now thy frenzy holds thy greatest foes. 270 _C_. May I (can worse disgrace on manhood fall?) Be born a Whitehead,[186] and baptized a Paul; May I (though to his service deeply tied By sacred oaths, and now by will allied), With false, feign'd zeal an injured God defend, And use his name for some base private end; May I (that thought bids double horrors roll O'er my sick spirits, and unmans my soul) Ruin the virtue which I held most dear, And still must hold; may I, through abject fear, 280 Betray my friend; may to succeeding times, Engraved on plates of adamant, my crimes Stand blazing forth, whilst, mark'd with envious blot, Each little act of virtue is forgot; Of all those evils which, to stamp men cursed, Hell keeps in store for vengeance, may the worst Light on my head; and in my day of woe, To make the cup of bitterness o'erflow, May I be scorn'd by every man of worth, Wander, like Cain, a vagabond on earth; 200 Bearing about a hell in my own mind, Or be to Scotland for my life confined; If I am one among the many known Whom Shelburne[187] fled, and Calcraft[188] blush'd to own. _L_. Do you reflect what men you make your foes? _C_. I do, and that's the reason I oppose. Friends I have made, whom Envy must commend, But not one foe whom I would wish a friend. What if ten thousand Butes and Hollands bawl? One Wilkes had made a large amends for all. 300 'Tis not the title, whether handed down From age to age, or flowing from the crown In copious streams, on recent men, who came From stems unknown, and sires without a name: Tis not the star which our great Edward gave To mark the virtuous, and reward the brave, Blazing without, whilst a base heart within Is rotten to the core with filth and sin; 'Tis not the tinsel grandeur, taught to wait, At Custom's call, to mark a fool of state 310 From fools of lesser note, that soul can awe, Whose pride is reason, whose defence is law.