For the fine notion of a busy man. And what is that at best, but one whose mind Is made to tire himself and all mankind? For Ireland he would go; faith, let him reign; For if some odd, fantastic lord would fain Carry in trunks, and all my drudgery do, 130 I'll not only pay him, but admire him too. But is there any other beast that lives, Who his own harm so wittingly contrives? Will any dog that has his teeth and stones, Refinedly leave his bitches and his bones, To turn a wheel, and bark to be employ'd, While Venus is by rival dogs enjoy'd? Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name, Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame. Though satire, nicely writ, with humour stings 140 But those who merit praise in other things; Yet we must needs this one exception make, And break our rules for silly Tropos'[60] sake; Who was too much despised to be accused, And therefore scarce deserves to be abused; Raised only by his mercenary tongue, For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong, As boys, on holidays, let loose to play, Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way; Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress 150 Some silly cit in her flower'd foolish dress: So have I mighty satisfaction found, To see his tinsel reason on the ground: To see the florid fool despised, and know it, By some who scarce have words enough to show it: For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker The finer, nay sometimes the wittier speaker: But 'tis prodigious so much eloquence Should be acquirèd by such little sense; For words and wit did anciently agree, 160 And Tully was no fool, though this man be: At bar abusive, on the bench unable, Knave on the woolsack, fop at council-table. These are the grievances of such fools as would Be rather wise than honest, great than good. Some other kind of wits must be made known, Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone; Excess of luxury they think can please, And laziness call loving of their ease: To live dissolved in pleasures still they feign, 170 Though their whole life's but intermitting pain: So much of surfeits, headaches, claps are seen, We scarce perceive the little time between: Well-meaning men who make this gross mistake, And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake; Each pleasure has its price, and when we pay Too much of pain, we squander life away.