Rather than so, uncensured let them be; All, all is admirably well, for me. My harmless rhyme shall 'scape the dire disgrace Of common-shoars, and every pissing-place. Two painted serpents[189] shall on high appear; 'Tis holy ground; you must not urine here. This shall be writ, to fright the fry away, Who draw their little baubles when they play. Yet old Lucilius[190] never feared the times, But lashed the city, and dissected crimes. Mutius and Lupus both by name he brought; He mouthed them, and betwixt his grinders caught. Unlike in method, with concealed design, Did crafty Horace his low numbers join; And, with a sly insinuating grace, Laughed at his friend, and looked him in the face; Would raise a blush where secret vice he found, And tickle while he gently probed the wound; With seeming innocence the crowd beguiled, But made the desperate passes when he smiled. Could he do this, and is my muse controuled By servile awe? Born free, and not be bold? At least, I'll dig a hole within the ground, And to the trusty earth commit the sound; The reeds shall tell you what the poet fears, "King Midas has a snout, and asses ears."[191] This mean conceit, this darling mystery, Which thou think'st nothing, friend, thou shalt not buy; Nor will I change for all the flashy wit, That flattering Labeo in his Iliads writ. Thou, if there be a thou in this base town, Who dares, with angry Eupolis, to frown; He who, with bold Cratinus, is inspired With zeal,[192] and equal indignation fired; Who at enormous villainy turns pale, And steers against it with a full-blown sail, Like Aristophanes, let him but smile On this my honest work, though writ in homely style; And if two lines or three in all the vein Appear less drossy, read those lines again. May they perform their author's just intent, Glow in thy ears, and in thy breast ferment! But from the reading of my book and me, Be far, ye foes of virtuous poverty; Who fortune's fault upon the poor can throw,[193] Point at the tattered coat, and ragged shoe; Lay nature's failings to their charge, and jeer The dim weak eye-sight when the mind is clear; When thou thyself, thus insolent in state, Art but, perhaps, some country magistrate, Whose power extends no farther than to speak Big on the bench, and scanty weights to break. Him also for my censor I disdain, Who thinks all science, as all virtue, vain; Who counts geometry, and numbers toys, And with his foot the sacred dust destroys;[194] Whose pleasure is to see a strumpet tear A cynick's beard, and lug him by the hair. Such all the morning to the pleadings run; } But when the business of the day is done, } On dice, and drink, and drabs, they spend their afternoon.