Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd? For why conceal'd?--The cause they need not tell. I give him joy, that's awkward at a lie; Whose feeble nature Truth keeps still in awe; His incapacity is his renown. 363 'Tis great, 'tis manly, to disdain disguise; It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength. Thou say'st, 'tis needful: is it therefore right? Howe'er, I grant it some small sign of grace, To strain at an excuse: And would'st thou then Escape that cruel need? Thou may'st, with ease; Think no post needful that demands a knave. 370 When late our civil helm was shifting hands, So Pulteney thought: think better, if you can. But this, how rare! the public path of life Is dirty;--yet, allow that dirt its due, It makes the noble mind more noble still: The world's no neuter; it will wound, or save; Or virtue quench, or indignation fire. You say, the world, well known, will make a man: The world, well known, will give our hearts to Heaven, Or make us demons, long before we die. 380 To show how fair the world, thy mistress, shines, Take either part, sure ills attend the choice; Sure, though not equal, detriment ensues. Not Virtue's self is deified on earth; Virtue has her relapses, conflicts, foes; Foes, that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate. Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. True friends to virtue, last, and least, complain; But if they sigh, can others hope to smile? If Wisdom has her miseries to mourn, 390 How can poor Folly lead a happy life? 391 And if both suffer, what has earth to boast, Where he most happy, who the least laments? Where much, much patience, the most envied state, And some forgiveness, needs, the best of friends? For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher, Of neither shall he find the shadow here. The world's sworn advocate, without a fee, Lorenzo smartly, with a smile, replies: "Thus far thy song is right; and all must own, 400 Virtue has her peculiar set of pains.-- And joys peculiar who to Vice denies? If vice it is, with nature to comply: If Pride, and Sense, are so predominant, To check, not overcome, them, makes a saint. Can Nature in a plainer voice proclaim Pleasure, and glory, the chief good of man?" Can Pride, and Sensuality, rejoice? From purity of thought, all pleasure springs; And, from an humble spirit, all our peace. 410 Ambition, pleasure! let us talk of these: Of these, the Porch, and Academy, talk'd; Of these, each following age had much to say: Yet, unexhausted, still, the needful theme. Who talks of these, to mankind all at once He talks; for where the saint from either free? Are these thy refuge?--No: these rush upon thee; Thy vitals seize, and, vulture-like, devour;