If any ask you, 'Who's the man, so near His prince, that writes in verse, and has his ear?' Why, answer, Lyttleton,[185] and I'll engage The worthy youth shall ne'er be in a rage: But were his verses vile, his whisper base, You'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's case. 50 Sejanus, Wolsey,[186] hurt not honest Fleury,[187] But well may put some statesmen in a fury. Laugh then at any, but at fools or foes; These you but anger, and you mend not those. Laugh at your friends, and, if your friends are sore, So much the better, you may laugh the more. To vice and folly to confine the jest, Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest; Did not the sneer of more impartial men At sense and virtue, balance all again. 60 Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule, And charitably comfort knave and fool. _P_. Dear sir, forgive the prejudice of youth: Adieu distinction, satire, warmth, and truth! Come, harmless characters that no one hit; Come, Henley's oratory, Osborn's[188] wit! The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue, The flowers of Bubo, and the flow of Yonge! The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence, And all the well-whipt cream of courtly sense, 70 That first was Hervy's, Fox's next, and then The senate's, and then Hervy's once again. Oh come, that easy, Ciceronian style, So Latin, yet so English all the while, As, though the pride of Middleton and Bland, All boys may read, and girls may understand! Then might I sing, without the least offence, And all I sung should be the nation's sense;[189] Or teach the melancholy Muse to mourn, Hang the sad verse on Carolina's[190] urn, 80 And hail her passage to the realms of rest, All parts perform'd, and all her children bless'd! So--satire is no more--I feel it die-- No gazetteer[191] more innocent than I-- And let, a-God's-name! every fool and knave Be graced through life, and flatter'd in his grave. _F_. Why so? if satire knows its time and place, You still may lash the greatest--in disgrace: For merit will by turns forsake them all; Would you know when exactly when they fall. 90 But let all satire in all changes spare Immortal Selkirk,[192] and grave Delaware.[193] Silent and soft, as saints remove to heaven, All ties dissolved, and every sin forgiven, These may some gentle ministerial wing Receive, and place for ever near a king! There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport, Lull'd with the sweet nepenthe of a court; There, where no father's, brother's, friend's disgrace Once break their rest, or stir them from their place: 100 But past the sense of human miseries, All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes; No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb, Save when they lose a question, or a job.