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And thou who gap'ft for my eftate, draw near;
Hear'st thou the news, my friend? th' exprefs is come
The goodly emprefs, jollily chu'd,
Is to the welcome bearer wondrous kind:
In foreign parts, and mighty battles won :
Of oil and pics, to make the people dine :
Well; on my terms thou wilt not be my
I can but guefs beyond the fourth degree.
Were fons of earth, like him, or fons of whores.
Yet, why would't thou, old covetous wretch, afpire
To be my heir, who might'st have been my fire?
What, when thou haft embezzled all thy ftore?
I have mortgag'd, to fupply my want:
The legacies of Tadius too are flown;
All spent, and on the self-same errand gone.
Nor tell me, in a dying father's tone,
Live on the use; and never dip thy lands:
But yet what's left for me? What 's left, my friend!
Ask that again, and all the rest I spend.
Is not my fortunes at my own command?
Pour oil, and pour it with a plenteous hand,
With fodden nettles, and a fing'd fow's head?
Truck wares for wares, and trudge from pole to pole:
That men may fay, when thou art dead and gone,
See what a vaft eftate he left his fon!
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.
Prologue to the First Satire
Satire the First, in Dialogue betwixt the Poet and
his Friend or Monitor
END OF DRYDEN'S POEMS.