_F_. Alas, young man! your days can ne'er be long, In flower of age you perish for a song! Plums and directors, Shylock and his wife, Will club their testers, now, to take your life! _P_. What? arm'd for Virtue, when I point the pen, Brand the bold front of shameless guilty men; Dash the proud gamester in his gilded car; Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a star; Can there be wanting to defend her cause, Lights of the Church, or guardians of the laws? 110 Could pension'd Boileau lash, in honest strain, Flatterers and bigots even in Louis' reign? Could Laureate Dryden pimp and friar engage, Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage? And I not strip the gilding off a knave, Unplaced, unpension'd, no man's heir, or slave? I will, or perish in the generous cause: Hear this, and tremble! you who 'scape the laws. Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave Shall walk the world, in credit, to his grave. 120 TO VIRTUE ONLY, AND HER FRIENDS, A FRIEND, The world beside may murmur, or commend. Know, all the distant din that world can keep, Rolls o'er my grotto, and but soothes my sleep. There, my retreat the best companions grace, Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place. There St John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul: And he, whose lightning[127] pierced th' Iberian lines, Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks my vines, 130 Or tames the genius of the stubborn plain, Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain. Envy must own, I live among the great, No pimp of pleasure, and no spy of state, With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er repeats, Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heats; To help who want, to forward who excel;-- This, all who know me, know; who love me, tell; And who unknown defame me, let them be Scribblers or peers, alike are mob to me. 140 This is my plea, on this I rest my cause-- What saith my counsel, learnèd in the laws? _F_. Your plea is good; but still, I say, beware! Laws are explain'd by men--so have a care! It stands on record, that in Richard's times A man was hang'd for very honest rhymes. Consult the statute: _quart_. I think, it is, _Edwardi Sext_. or _prim, et quint. Eliz_. See 'Libels, Satires'--here you have it--read. _P_. Libels and satires! lawless things indeed! 150 But grave epistles, bringing vice to light, Such as a king might read, a bishop write, Such as Sir Robert would approve-- _F_. Indeed? The case is alter'd--you may then proceed; In such a cause the plaintiff will be hiss'd, My lords the judges laugh, and you're dismiss'd. * * * * * SATIRE II. TO MR BETHEL.