Must have forbid, pouring preferments down, Such wit, such truth as thine to quit the gown. 110 Thy sacred brethren, too, (for they, no less Than laymen, bring their offerings to success) Had hail'd thee good if great, and paid the vow Sincere as that they pay to God, whilst thou In lawn hadst whisper'd to a sleeping crowd, As dull as Rochester[122], and half as proud. Peace, Candour--wisely hadst thou said, and well, Could Interest in this breast one moment dwell; Could she, with prospect of success, oppose The firm resolves which from conviction rose. 120 I cannot truckle to a fool of state, Nor take a favour from the man I hate: Free leave have others by such means to shine; I scorn their practice; they may laugh at mine. But in this charge, forgetful of thyself, Thou hast assumed the maxims of that elf, Whom God in wrath, for man's dishonour framed, Cunning in heaven, amongst us Prudence named, That servile prudence, which I leave to those Who dare not be my friends, can't be my foes. 130 Had I, with cruel and oppressive rhymes, Pursued and turn'd misfortunes into crimes; Had I, when Virtue gasping lay and low, Join'd tyrant Vice, and added woe to woe; Had I made Modesty in blushes speak, And drawn the tear down Beauty's sacred cheek; Had I (damn'd then) in thought debased my lays, To wound that sex which honour bids me praise; Had I, from vengeance, by base views betray'd. In endless night sunk injured Ayliffe's[123] shade; 140 Had I (which satirists of mighty name[124], Renown'd in rhyme, revered for moral fame, Have done before, whom Justice shall pursue In future verse) brought forth to public view A noble friend, and made his foibles known, Because his worth was greater than my own; Had I spared those (so Prudence had decreed) Whom, God so help me at my greatest need! I ne'er will spare, those vipers to their king Who smooth their looks, and flatter whilst they sting; 150 Or had I not taught patriot zeal to boast Of those who flatter least, but love him most; Had I thus sinn'd, my stubborn soul should bend At Candour's voice, and take, as from a friend, The deep rebuke; myself should be the first To hate myself, and stamp my Muse accursed. But shall my arm--forbid it, manly pride! Forbid it, reason! warring on my side-- For vengeance lifted high, the stroke forbear, And hang suspended in the desert air, 160 Or to my trembling side unnerved sink down, Palsied, forsooth, by Candour's half-made frown? When Justice bids me on, shall I delay Because insipid Candour bars my way? When she, of all alike the puling friend, Would disappoint my satire's noblest end; When she to villains would a sanction give, And shelter those who are not fit to live; When she would screen the guilty from a blush, And bids me spare whom Reason bids me crush, 170 All leagues with Candour proudly I resign;