See how the world its veterans rewards!

A youth of frolics, an old age of cards;
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end;
Young without lovers, old without a friend;
A fop their paffion, but their prize a fot;
Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot!

Ah. friend to dazzle let the vain defign; 249 To raise the thought, and touch the heart, be thine! That charm fhall grow, while what fatigues the ring,

Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing;
So when the fun's broad beam has tir'd the fight,
All mild afcends the moon's more fober light,
Serene in virgin modefty fhe fhines,
And unobferv'd the glaring orb declines.

260

Oh bleft with temper, whofe unclouded ray Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day : She, who can love a fifter's charms, or hear Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear; She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if the rules him, never fhows fhe rules; Charms by accepting, by fubmitting (ways, Yet has her humour moft, when the obeys; Let fops or fortune fly which way they will, Difdains all lofs of tickets, or codille; Spleen, vapours, or small-pox, above them all, And mistress of herself, though China fail.

270

And yet, believe me, good as well as ill, Woman's at beft a contradiction ftill. Heaven when it ftrives to polifh all it can Its laft beft work, but forms a fofter man; Picks from each fex, to make the favourite bleft. Your love of pleasure, our defire of rest : Blends, in exception to all general rules, Your tafte of follies, with our fcorn of fools: Referve with frankness, art with truth ally'd, Courage with foftnefs, modefty with pride; Fix'd principles, with fancy ever new; Shakes all together, and produces-You. Be this a woman's fame. with this unblest, Toafts live a fcorn, and queens may die a jest. This Phoebus promis'd (I forget the year) When those blue eyes firft open'd on the sphere; Afcendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with care, Averted half your parents' fimple prayer; And gave you beauty, but deny'd the pelf That buys your fex a tyrant o'er itself. The generous God, who wit and gold refines, And ripens fpirits as he ripens mines,

280

290

Kept drofs for ducheffes, the world fhall know it, To you gave fense, good humour, and a poet.

EPISTLE III.

TO ALLEN, LORD BATHURST,

Of the Ufe of Riches.

THE ARGUMENT.

THAT it is known to few, most falling into one of the extremes, avarice or profufion, ver. I, &c. The point difcuffed, whether the invention of

money has been more commodious or pernicious to mankind ver. 21 to 77. That riches, either to the avaricious or the prodigal, cannot afford happiness, fcarcely neceffaries, ver. 89 to 160. That avarice is an abfolute frenzy, without an end or purpose, ver. 113, &c. 152. Conjectures about the motives of avaricious men, ver. IzI to 153. That the conduct of men, with refpect to riches, can only be accounted for by the order of Providence, which works the general good out of extremes, and brings all to its great end by perpetual revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a mifer acts upon principles which appear to him reasonable, ver. 179. How a prodigal does the fame, ver. 199. The due medium, and true ufe of riches, ver. 219. The man of Ross, ver. 250. The fate of the profufe and the covetous, in two examples; both miferable in life and in death, ver. 300, &c. The story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end.

66

THIS epiftle was written after a violent outcry against our Author, on a fuppofition that he had ridiculed a worthy nobleman merely for his wrong taste. He juftified himself upon that article in a letter to the Earl of Burlington; at the end of which are thefe words: "I have "learnt that there are fome who would rather "be wicked than ridiculous: and therefore it may be fafer to attack vices than follies. I "will therefore leave my betters in the quiet poffeffion of their idols, their groves, and their "high-places; and change my fubject from their 66 pride to their meannefs, from their vanities to their miferies; and as the only certain way "to avoid mifconttructions, to leffen offence, and "not to multiply ill-natured applications, I may probably in my next, make ufe of real names "inftead of fictitious ones."

P. WHO fhall decide, when doctors difagree, And foundest caluifts doubt, like you and me? You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given, That man was made the ftanding jeft of Hea

ven:

And gold but fent to keep the fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the fhining mischief under ground: I
But when, by man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival too, its fire, the fun,
Then careful Heaven fupply'd twoforts of men,
To fquander these, and thofe to hide again.
Like doctors thus, when much difpute has
paft,

We find our tenets just the fame at last.
Both fairly owning, riches, in effect,
No grace of Heaven or token of th' elect;
Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil. 20
B. What nature wants, commodious gold be-
ftows;

'Tis thus we cat the bread another fows.

P. But how unequal it beflows, obferve;
'Tis thus we riot, while, who fow it, ftarve:
What nature wants (a phrafe I must diftraft)
Extends to luxury, extends to luft:
Ufeful, I grant, it ferves what life requires,
But dreadful too, the dark affaffin hires.
B. Trade it may help, fociety extend:

P. But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend. 30
B. It raifes armies in a nation's aid:

P. But bribes a fenate, and the land's betray'd.
In vain may heroes fight, and patriots rave,
If fecret gold fap on from knave to knave.
Once, we confefs, beneath the patriot's cloak,
From the crack'd bag the dropping guinea fpoke,
And jingling down the back-ftairs, told the crew,
"Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Bleft paper-credit: last and best supply!
That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!
Gold, imp'd by thee, can compafs hardest things,
Can pocket ftates, can fetch or carry kings;
A fingle leaf fhall waft an army o'er,
Or fhip off fenates to fome diftant fhore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, fcatter to and fro

Our fates and fortunes, as the wind fhall blow:
Pregnant with thousands flits the fcrap unfeen,
And filent fells a king, or buys a queen.

40

Oh that fuch bulky bribes as all might fee, Still, as of old, encumber'd villainy! Could France or Rome divert our brave defigns,

With all their brandies, or with all their wines? What could they more than knights and 'iquires confound,

Or water all the quorum ten miles round? A statesman's flumbers how this speech would spoil!

"Sir, Spain has fent a thousand jars of oil; "Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door : "A hundred cxen at your levee roar."

60

Poor avarice one torment more would find;
Nor could profufion squander all in kind.
Aftride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet:
And Worldly crying coals from freet to street,
Whom, with a wig fo wild, and mien fo maz'd,
Pity mistakes for fome poor tradesman craz'd.
Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and
hozs,

Could he him if have fent it to the dogs?
His Grace will game: to White's a bull be led,
With Spurning heels and with a butting head.
To White's be carry'd as to ancient games,
fair courfers, vales, and alluring dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bear him fx whores, and make his lady weep?
Or fift Adonis, fo perfum'd and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of fwine?
Oh filthy check on all induftrious skill,

70

To spoil the nation's last great trade, quadrille!

Is this too little? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
Alas! 'tis more than (all his visions past)
Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last!
What can they give? to dying Hopkins, heirs;
To Chartres, vigour; Japhet, nofe and ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
In Fulvia's buckle cafe the throbs below;
Or heal, old Narfes, thy obfcener ail,
With all th' embroidery plaister'd at thy tail? 90
They might (were Harpax not too wife to spend)
Give Harpax felf the blefling of a friend;
Or find fome doctor that would fave the life
Of wretched Shylock. fpite of Shylock's wife:
But thoufands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college, or a cat.

To fome, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
T'enrich a baftard, or a fon they hate.

Perhaps you think the poor might have their

The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule That every man in want is knave or fool: "God cannot love (fays Blunt, with tearless eyes) "The wretch he ftarves"-and pioufly denies: But the good bishop, with a meeker air, Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.

Yet to be just to thefe poor men of pelf,
Each does but hate his neighbour as himself:
Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides
The flave that digs it, and the flave that hides. 110
B. Who fuffer thus, mere charity fhould own,
Muft act on motives powerful, though unknown.
P. Some war, fome plague, or famine, they
forefce,

Some revelation hid from you and me.
Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause i, found;
He thinks a loaf will rife to fifty pound.
What made directors cheat in South-Sca year?
To live on venifon when it fold dear.
Afk you why Phryne the whole auction buys?
Phryne forefees a general excile.
Why the and Sappho raile that monstrous fun?
Alas! they fear a man will coft a plum.

Wife Peter fees the world's refpe&t for gold, And therefore hopes this nation may be fold: Glorious ambition! Peter, fwell thy ftore, And be what Rome's great Didius was before. The crown of Poland, venal twice an age, To juft three millions finted modelt Gage. But nobler scenes, Maria's dreams unfold, Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold.

130

VARIATIONS.

After ver. 50, in the MS.

To break a trust were Peter brib'd with wine, Peter! 'twould pofe as wife a head as thine.

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 77. Since then, &c.] In the former Ed. Well then, fince with the world we ftand or fall, Come take it, as we find it, gold and all.

Congenial fouls; whofe life one avarice joins,
And one fate buries in th' Auftrian mines.
Much-injur'd Blunt! why bears he Britain's
hate?

140

A wizard told him in these words our fate:
"At length corruption, like a general flood,
"(so long by watchful minifters withstood)
"Shall deluge all; and avarice, creeping on,
Spread like a low-borne mift, and blot the fun;
"Statesman and patriot ply alike the stocks,
"Peerefs and butler there alike the box.
"And judges job, and bishops bite the town,
"And mighty dukes pack cards for half a crown.
"See Britain funk in lucre's fordid charms,
"And France reveng'd of Anne's and Edward's
"arms!"
[brain,
'Twas no court badge, great fcrivener, fir'd thy
Nor lordly luxury, nor city gain:

No, 'twas thy righteous end, afham'd to fee
Senates degenerate, patriots difagree,
And nobly wishing party-rage to cease,
To buy both fides, and give thy country peace.
"All this is madness," cries a fober fage: 151
But who, my friend, has reafon in his rage?
"The ruling paffion, be it what it will,
"The raling paflion conquers reason still."
Lefs mad the wildest whimsey we can frame,
Than even that paffion, if it has no aim;
For though fuch motives folly you may call,
The folly's greater to have none at all.

Hear then the truth: "'Tis Heaven each paf"fion fends,

161

170

RS And different men directs to different ends.
Extremes in nature equal good produce,
"Extremes in man concur to general ufe."
Ak we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
That power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids feed-time, harveft, equal courfe maintain,
Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches, like infects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly.
Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
This year a refervoir, to keep and spare;
The next a fountain, fpouting through his heir,
In lavish ftreams to quench a country's thirst,
And men and dogs fhall drink him till they burst.
Old Cotta fham'd his fortune and his birth,
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:
What though (the use of barbarous fpits forgot)
His kitchen vied in coolnefs with his grot?
Itis court with nettles, moats with creffes ftor'd,
"With foups unbought and fallads blefs'd his board?
If Cotta liv'd on pulfe, it was no more
Than Bramins, faints, and fages did before;
To cram the rich, was prodigal expence,
And who would take the poor from Providence?
Like fome lone Chartreux ftands the good old hall,
Silence without, and fasts within the wall;
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor found,
No noontide bell invites the country round: 190
Tenants with fighs the fmokeless towers furvey,
And turn th' unwilling steeds another way:

180

Benighted wanderers, the foreft o'er,
Curfe the fav'd candle, and unopening door;
While the gaunt maftiff, growling at the gate,
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.

200

Not fo his fon: he mark'd this overfight, And then mistook reverfe of wrong for right. (For what to fhun, will no great knowledge need: But what to follow, is a task indeed), Yet fure, of qualities deferving praife, More go to ruin fortunes, than to raise. What flaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine, Fill the capacious 'fquire, and deep divine! Yet no mean motives this profusion draws, His oxen perish in his country's caufe; 'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup, And zeal for that great houfe which eats him up. The woods recede around the naked feat, The Sylvans groan-no matter-for the fleet: Next goes his wool-to clothe our valiant bands: Last, for his country's love, he fells his lands. To town he comes, completes the nation's hope, And heads the bold train-bands, and burns a Pope. And shall not Britain now reward his toils, Britain, that pays her patriots with her fpoils? In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his caufe, His th. klefs country leaves him to her laws. The fenfe to value riches, with the art

209

220

T' enjoy them, and the virtue to impart,
Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursued,
Not funk by floth, not rais'd by fervitude;
To balance fortune by a juft expence,
Join with economy, magnificence;
With fplendour, charity; with plenty, health;
Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unfpoil'd by wealth!
That fecret rare, between th' extremes to move
Of mad good-nature, and of mean felf-love.

B. To worth or want well-weigh'd, be bounty given,

230

And eafe, or emulate, the care of Heaven;
(Whose measure full o'erflows on human race)
Mend fortune's fault, and juftify her grace.
Wealth in the grofs is death, but life diffus'd;
As poifon heals, in juft proportion us'd:
In heaps, like ambergris, a ftink it lies,
But well difpers'd, is incenfe to the skies.

P. Who starves by nobles, or with nobles cats? The wretch that trufts them, and the rogue that cheats.

Is there a lord, who knows a cheerful noon
Without a fiddler, flatterer, or buffoon!

VARIATIONS.

After ver. 218, in the M3.

240

Where one lean herring furnish'd Cotta's board,
And nettles grew, fit porridge for their lord;
Where mad good-nature, bounty mifapply'd,
In lavish Curio blaz'd a while and dy'd;
There Providence once more fhall fhift the feene,
And fhewing H-y, teach the golden mean.
After ver. 226, in the MS.

The fecret rare, which affluence hardly join'd,
Which W-n loft, yet B-y ne'er could find:
Still mifs'd by vice, and fearce by virtue hit,
By G's goodness, or by S-'s wit,

Whofe table, wit, or modeft merit share,
Un-elbow'd by a gamefter, pimp, or player?
Who copies your's, or Oxford's better part,
To eafe th' opprefs'd, and raise the finking heart?
Where'er he thines, oh fortune, gild the scene,
And angels guard him in the golden mean!
There, English bounty yet a while may stand,
And honour linger ere it leaves the land.

But all our praises why fhould lords engross! Rife, honeft mufe; and fing the Man of Rofs: 250 Pleas'd Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, And rapid Severn hoarfe applause resounds.

Who hung with woods yon mountain's fultry brow?

From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns toft,
Or in proud falls magnificently loft,

260

But clear and artlefs, pouring through the plain
Health to the fick, and folace to the fwain.
Whofe caufeway parts the vale with fhady rows
Whole feats the weary traveller repose ?
Who taugh that heaven-directed spire to rife!
"The Man of Rofs" each lifping babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread!
The Man of Rofs divides the weekly bread :
He feeds yon alms-houfe, neat, but void of te,
When age and want fit fmiling at the gate;
Him portion'd maids, "apprentic'd orphans bleft,
The young who labour, and the old who reft.
Is any fick? the Man of Rofs relieves,
Preferibes, attends, the medicine makes, and gives.
Is there a variance? enter but his door,
Bk'd are the courts, and conteft is no more.
Delpairing quacks with curfes filed the place,
And vile attorneys, now an ufelets race.

B. Thrice happy man! enabled to purfue What all to with, but want the power to do' Oh fay, what fums that generous hand supply? What mines to iwell that boundl- fs charity

269

B. And what no monument, infcriptio, tone? His race, his form, his name almost unknown?

P. Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name: Go, fearch it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history; Enough, that virtue fill'd the space between; Prov'd by the ends of being, to have been. When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights attend The wretch, who living lav'd a candle's end;

VARIATIONS.

After ver. 250, in the MS.

Trace humble worth beyond sabrina's fhore,
Who fings not him, oh may he fing no more!
Ver. 487 Thus in the MS.

The register inroils him with his poor,
Tells he was born, and dy'd, and tells no more.
Just as he ought, he .n'd the space between;
hen ftole to reft, unheeded and unfeen.

290

Shouldering God's altar a vile image ftands,
Belies his features, nay extends his hands;
That live-long wig, which Gorgon's felf might own,
Eternal buckle takes in Parian ftone.

Behold what bleffings wealth to life can lend !
And fee, what comfort it affords our end.
In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung,
The floors of plafter, and the walls of dung, 300
On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw,
With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw,
The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow ftrove with dirty red,
Great Villers lies-alas! how chang'd from him,
That life of pleasure, and that foul of whim!
Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove,
The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love;
Or just as gay, at council, in a ring

Of mimick'd statefmen, and their merry king. 310
No wit to flatter, left of all his store!

No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. l'here, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends. His Grace's fate fage Cutler could forefee, And well (he thought) advis'd him, “ Live like me!"

As well his Grace reply'd, "Like you, Sir John?
That I can do, when all I have is gone."
Refolve me, reafon, which of these are worse,
Want with a full, or with an empty purse? 320
Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confefs'd,
Arife, and tell me, was thy death more bless'd?
Cutler faw tenants break, and houses fall,
For very want; he could not build a wall.
His only daughter in a stranger's power,
For very want; he could not pay a dower.
A few grey hairs his reverend temples crown'd,
'I'was very want that fold them for two pound.
What! even deny'd a cordial at his end,
Banifh'd the doctor, and expell'd the friend? 330
What but a want, which yo perhaps think mad,
Yet numbers feel, the want of what he had!
Cutler and Brutus dying, both exclaim,
"Virtue! and wealth! what are ye but a name!"

Say, for fuch worth are other worlds prepar'd?
Or are they both, in this, their own reward?
A knotty point! to which we now proceed.
But you are tir'd-I'll tell a tale-B. Agreed.

340

P. Where London's column, pointing at the skies Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies; There dwelt a citizen of fober fame, A plain good man, and Balaam was his name; Religious, punctual, frugal, and fo forth; His word would pafs for more than he was worth. One folid difh his week-day meal affords, An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's: [fure, Conftant at church, and Change; his gains were His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.

The devil was piqu'd fuch faintship to behold, And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old: 350

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 337. In the former editions. That knotty point, my Lord, fhall I difcufs, Or tell a tale?-A tale-it follows thus.

361

The furge, and plunge his father in the deep; Then full against his Cornish lands they roar, And two rich shipwrecks blefs the lucky fhore. Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes: "Live like yourfelf," was foon my lady's word; And lo! two puddings fmok'd upon the board. Afleep and naked as an Indian lay, An honest factor ftole a gem away: He pledg'd it to the knight, the knight had wit, So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit. Some fcruple rofe, but thus he eas'd his thought, "I'll now give fixpence where I gave a groat; "Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice"And am fo clear too of all other vice."

The tempter faw his time: the work he ply'd; Stocks and fubfcriptions pour on every fide, 370 Till all the dæmon makes his full defcent In one abundant shower of cent per cent, Sinks deep within him, and poffeffes whole, Then dubs dire&or, and fecures his foul.

381

Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit, Afcribes his gettings to his parts and merit; What late he call'd a blefling now is wit, And God's good providence a lucky hit. Things change their titles, as our manners turn: His counting-houfe employ'd the Sunday morn: Seldom at church, ('twas fuch a bufy life) But duly fent his family and wife. There (fo the devil ordain'd) one Christmas tide My good old lady ca'ch'd a cold, and dy’d. A nymph of quality admires our knight; He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite; Leaves the dull cits, and joins (to please the fair) The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air: Firt, for his fon a gay commillion bays, Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies: 390 His daughter flaunts a vifcount's tawdry wife; She bears a coronet and p--x for life. In Britain's fenate he a feat obtains, And one more penfioner St. Stephen gains. My lady falls to play: fo bad her chance, He mult repair it; takes a bribe from France; The Houfe impeach him, Coningsby harangues; The Curt forfake him, and Sir Baldam hangs : Wife, ion, and daughter, Satan! are thy own, His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the crown; 400 The devil and the king divide the prize, And fad Sir Balaam curfes God and dies.

EPISTLE IV.

TO RICHARD BOYLE, EARL OP BURLINGTON,

Of the Ufe of Riches.

THE ARGUMENT.

Tar vanity of expence in people of wealth and quality. The abule of the word tafte, ver. 15. VOL. VIII.

That the first principle and foundation in this, as in every thing else, is good fenfe, ver. 40. The chief proof of it is to follow Nature, even in works of mere luxury and elegance. Inftanced in architecture and gardening, where all mut be adapted to the genius and ufe of the place, and the beauties not forced into it, but resulting from it, ver. 50. How men are difappointed in their most expenfive undertakings, for want of this true foundation, without which nothing can please long, if at all; and the best examples and rules will be perverted into fomething burdenfome and ridiculous, ver. 65, &c. to 92. A defcription of the falfe tafte of magnificence; the fir grand error of which is, to imagine that greatnefs confits in the fize and dimention, inflead of the proportion and harmony of the whole, ver. 97. and the fecond, either in joining together parts incoherent, or too minutely refembling, or in the repetition of the fame too frequently, ver 105 &c. A word or two of falle tatte in books, in mulic, in painting, even. in preaching and prayer; and, laftly, in entertainments, ver. 133, &c. Yet Providence is juftified in giving wealth to be fquandered in this manner, fince it is difperfed to the poor and laborious part of mankind, ver. 169, &c. [recurring to what is laid down in the firft Book, Ep. ii. and in the Epile preceding this, ver. 159, &c.] What are the proper objects of magnificence, and a proper field for the expence of great men, ver. 177, &c. and finally the great and public works which become a prince, ver. 191, to the end.

The extremes of avarice and profufion being treated of in the foregoing epiftle; this takes up one particular branch of the latter, the vanity of expence in people of wealth and quality; and is therefore a corollary to the preceding, jult as the Epifle on the Characters of Women is to that of the Knowledge and Characters of Men. It is equally remarkable for exacinefs of method with the reft. But the nature of the fubject, which is lefs philofophical, makes it capable of being analyzed in a much narrower compafs.

'Tis ftrange, the mifer fhould his cares employ
To gain thofe riches he can ne'er enjoy:
Is it lefs range, the prodigal fhould wafte
His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Not for himfelf he fees, or hears, or eats;
Artifts must chofe his pictures, mufic, meats;
He buys for Topham drawings and defigns;
For Pembroke ftatues, dirty gods, and coins;
Rare monkith manufcripts for Hearne alone,
And books for Mead, and butterflies for Sloane.
Think we all thefe are for himfell? no more
Than his fine wife, alas! or îner whore.

II

For what has Virro painted, built, and planted: Only to fhow, how many tailes he wanted. What brought Sir Vifto's ill-got wealth to wate? Some dæmon whifper'd," Vilto! have a talte." Heaven vifits with a tafte the wealthy fool, And needs no rod but Ripley with a rule.

H