_Acast._ 'Tis, next to money, current there; To be seen daily in as many forms As there are sorts of vanities, and men: The supercilious[18] statesman has his sneer To smooth a poor man off with, that can't bribe him; The grave dull fellow of small business soothes The humourist, and will needs admire his wit. Who without spleen could see a hot-brained atheist Thanking a surly doctor for his sermon? Or a grave counsellor meet a smooth young lord, Squeeze him by the hand, and praise his good complexion? _Pol._ Courts are the places where best manners flourish; Where the deserving ought to rise, and fools Make show. Why should I vex and chafe my spleen, To see a gaudy coxcomb shine, when I Have seen enough to soothe him in his follies, And ride him to advantage as I please? _Acast._ Who merit ought indeed to rise i' the world; But no wise man that's honest should expect. What man of sense would rack his generous mind, To practise all the base formalities And forms of business, force a grave starched face, When he's a very libertine in's heart? Seem not to know this or that man in public, When privately perhaps they meet together, And lay the scene of some brave fellow's ruin? Such things are done-- _Cast._ Your lordship's wrongs have been So great, that you with justice may complain; But suffer us, whose younger minds ne'er felt Fortune's deceits, to court her as she's fair. Were she a common mistress, kind to all, Her worth would cease, and half the world grow idle. _Acast._ Go to, you're fools, and know me not; I've learnt Long since to bear revenge, or scorn my wrongs, According to the value of the doer. You both would fain be great, and to that end Desire to do things worthy your ambition: Go to the camp, preferment's noblest mart, Where honour ought to have the fairest play, You'll find Corruption, envy, discontent, and faction, Almost in every band: how many men Have spent their blood in their dear country's service, Yet now pine under want, while selfish slaves, That even would cut their throats whom now they fawn on, Like deadly locusts, eat the honey up, Which those industrious bees so hardly toiled for! _Cast._ These precepts suit not with my active mind: Methinks I would be busy. _Pol._ So would I. Not loiter out my life at home, and know No farther than one prospect gives me leave. _Acast._ Busy your minds then, study arts and men: Learn how to value merit though in rags, And scorn a proud ill-mannered knave in office. _Enter_ SERINA, MONIMIA, _and_ FLORELLA. _Ser._ My lord, my father! _Acast._ Blessings on my child, My little cherub! what hast thou to ask me?