But I, who think more highly of our kind, (And, surely, Heaven and I are of a mind) Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound, Deep hid the shining mischief under ground: 10 But when, by man's audacious labour won, Flamed forth this rival to its sire, the Sun, Then careful Heaven supplied two sorts of men, To squander these, and those to hide again. Like doctors thus, when much dispute has pass'd, We find our tenets just the same at last. Both fairly owning, riches, in effect, No grace of Heaven or token of the elect; Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil, To Ward,[21] to Waters, Chartres,[22] and the devil. 20 _B_. What nature wants, commodious gold bestows, 'Tis thus we eat the bread another sows. _P_. But how unequal it bestows, observe, Tis thus we riot, while who sow it starve: What nature wants (a phrase I much distrust) Extends to luxury, extends to lust: Useful, I grant, it serves what life requires, But dreadful too, the dark assassin hires: _B_. Trade it may help, society extend. _P_. But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend. 30 _B_. It raises armies in a nation's aid. _P_. But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd. In vain may heroes fight, and patriots rave; If secret gold sap on from knave to knave. Once, we confess, beneath the patriot's cloak,[23] From the crack'd bag the dropping guinea spoke, And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew, 'Old Cato is as great a rogue as you.' Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly! 40 Gold imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things, Can pocket states, can fetch or carry kings; A single leaf shall waft an army o'er, Or ship off senates[24] to a distant shore; A leaf, like Sibyl's, scatter to and fro Our fates and fortunes, as the winds shall blow: Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen, And silent sells a king, or buys a queen, Oh! that such bulky bribes as all might see, Still, as of old, encumber'd villainy! 50 Could France or Rome divert our brave designs, With all their brandies, or with all their wines? What could they more than knights and squires confound, Or water all the quorum ten miles round? A statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoil! 'Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil; Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door; A hundred oxen at your levee roar.'