To reap the profits of his labour'd plan, Some cringing lackey, or rapacious whore, To favours of the great the surest door, Some catamite, or pimp, in credit grown, Who tempts another's wife, or sells his own, Steps 'cross his hopes, the promised boon denies, And for some minion's minion claims the prize. Foe to restraint, unpractised in deceit, Too resolute, from nature's active heat, 180 To brook affronts, and tamely pass them by, Too proud to flatter, too sincere to lie, Too plain to please, too honest to be great, Give me, kind Heaven, an humbler, happier state: Far from the place where men with pride deceive, Where rascals promise, and where fools believe; Far from the walk of folly, vice, and strife, Calm, independent, let me steal through life; Nor one vain wish my steady thoughts beguile To fear his Lordship's frown, or court his smile. 190 Unfit for greatness, I her snares defy, And look on riches with untainted eye: To others let the glittering baubles fall, Content shall place us far above them all. Spectators only on this bustling stage, We see what vain designs mankind engage: Vice after vice with ardour they pursue, And one old folly brings forth twenty new. Perplex'd with trifles through the vale of life, Man strives 'gainst man, without a cause for strife: 200 Armies embattled meet, and thousands bleed For some vile spot, where fifty cannot feed. Squirrels for nuts contend, and, wrong or right, For the world's empire kings, ambitious, fight. What odds?--to us 'tis all the self-same thing, A nut, a world, a squirrel, and a king. Britons, like Roman spirits famed of old, Are cast by nature in a patriot mould; No private joy, no private grief, they know, Their souls engross'd by public weal or woe; 210 Inglorious ease, like ours, they greatly scorn; Let care with nobler wreaths their brows adorn: Gladly they toil beneath the statesman's pains, Give them but credit for a statesman's brains. All would be deem'd, e'en from the cradle, fit To rule in politics as well as wit. The grave, the gay, the fopling, and the dunce, Start up (God bless us!) statesman all at once. His mighty charge of souls the priest forgets, The court-bred lord his promises and debts; 220 Soldiers their fame, misers forget their pelf, The rake his mistress, and the fop himself; Whilst thoughts of higher moment claim their care, And their wise heads the weight of kingdoms bear. Females themselves the glorious ardour feel, And boast an equal or a greater zeal; From nymph to nymph the state-infection flies, Swells in her breast, and sparkles in her eyes. O'erwhelm'd by politics lie malice, pride, Envy, and twenty other faults beside. 230 No more their little fluttering hearts confess A passion for applause, or rage for dress; No more they pant for public raree-shows, Or lose one thought on monkeys or on beaux: