Whoe'er thou art, whose forward years are bent On state affairs, to guide the government; Hear first what Socrates[220] of old has said To the loved youth, whom he at Athens bred. Tell me, thou pupil to great Pericles, Our second hope, my Alcibiades,[221] What are the grounds from whence thou dost prepare To undertake, so young, so vast a care? Perhaps thy wit; (a chance not often heard, That parts and prudence should prevent the beard;) 'Tis seldom seen, that senators so young Know when to speak, and when to hold their tongue. Sure thou art born to some peculiar fate, When the mad people rise against the state, To look them into duty, and command An awful silence with thy lifted hand; Then to bespeak them thus:--Athenians, know Against right reason all your counsels go; This is not fair, nor profitable that, Nor t'other question proper for debate.-- But thou, no doubt, can'st set the business right, And give each argument its proper weight; Know'st, with an equal hand, to hold the scale; } Seest where the reasons pinch, and where they fail, } And where exceptions o'er the general rule prevail; } And, taught by inspiration, in a trice, Can'st punish crimes,[222] and brand offending vice. Leave, leave to fathom such high points as these, Nor be ambitious, e'er thy time, to please, Unseasonably wise; till age and cares Have formed thy soul to manage great affairs. Thy face, thy shape, thy outside, are but vain; } Thou hast not strength such labours to sustain; } Drink hellebore,[223] my boy; drink deep, and purge thy brain. } What aim'st thou at, and whither tends thy care, } In what thy utmost good? Delicious fare; } And then, to sun thyself in open air. } Hold, hold; are all thy empty wishes such? A good old woman would have said as much. But thou art nobly born: 'tis true; go boast Thy pedigree, the thing thou valuest most: Besides, thou art a beau; what's that, my child? A fop, well drest, extravagant, and wild: She that cries herbs, has less impertinence, And in her calling more of common sense. None, none descends into himself, to find The secret imperfections of his mind; But every one is eagle-eyed, to see Another's faults, and his deformity. Say, dost thou know Vectidius?[224]--Who? the wretch Whose lands beyond the Sabines largely stretch; Cover the country, that a sailing kite Can scarce o'er fly them in a day and night; Him dost thou mean, who, spite of all his store, Is ever craving, and will still be poor? Who cheats for half-pence, and who doffs his coat, To save a farthing in a ferry-boat? Ever a glutton at another's cost,