Or, like a boy, pursuest the carrion crow With pellets, and with stones, from tree to tree, A fruitless toil, and livest _extempore_? Watch the disease in time; for when within The dropsy rages, and extends the skin, In vain for hellebore the patient cries, And fees the doctor, but too late is wise; Too late, for cure he proffers half his wealth; Conquest and Guibbons[215] cannot give him health. Learn, wretches, learn the motions of the mind, } Why you were made, for what you were designed, } And the great moral end of human kind. } Study thyself, what rank, or what degree, The wise Creator has ordained for thee; And all the offices of that estate Perform, and with thy prudence guide thy fate. Pray justly to be heard, nor more desire Than what the decencies of life require. Learn what thou owest thy country, and thy friend; What's requisite to spare, and what to spend: Learn this; and after, envy not the store Of the greased advocate, that grinds the poor; Fat fees[216] from the defended Umbrian draws, And only gains the wealthy client's cause; To whom the Marsians more provision send, Than he and all his family can spend. Gammons, that give a relish to the taste, And potted fowl, and fish come in so fast, That ere the first is out, the second stinks, And mouldy mother gathers on the brinks. But here some captain of the land, or fleet, Stout of his hands, but of a soldier's wit, Cries,--I have sense to serve my turn in store, And he's a rascal who pretends to more. Damn me, whate'er those book-learned blockheads say, Solon's the veriest fool in all the play. Top-heavy drones, and always looking down, (As over ballasted within the crown,) Muttering betwixt their lips some mystic thing, Which, well examined, is flat conjuring; Mere madmen's dreams; for what the schools have taught, } Is only this, that nothing can be brought } From nothing, and what is can ne'er be turned to nought. } Is it for this they study? to grow pale, And miss the pleasures of a glorious meal? For this, in rags accoutered, are they seen, And made the may-game of the public spleen?-- Proceed, my friend, and rail; but hear me tell A story, which is just thy parallel:-- A spark, like thee, of the man-killing trade, Fell sick, and thus to his physician said,-- Methinks I am not right in every part; I feel a kind of trembling at my heart, My pulse unequal, and my breath is strong, Besides a filthy fur upon my tongue. The doctor heard him, exercised his skill, And after bade him for four days be still. Three days he took good counsel, and began To mend, and look like a recovering man;