The Gifts of Nature! Curfe upon the Thought,
By that alone I am to Ruin brought.

Old Virre did the Fatal Secret hear

(But Curfe on Fame that bore it to his Ear.)
What foft Addrefs his wooing did begin?
What Oaths, what Promises to draw me in?
Scarce cou'd they fail to make a Virgin Sin.
Who wou'd not then fwear Nevolus had fped,
And Golden Show'rs were dropping on his Head?
But ob this Wretch, this Prodigy behold!

A Slave at once to Letchery and Gold!
For in the Act of his lewd Brutal Joy,
Sirrah! My Rogue (he cries) mine own dear Boy!
My Lad, My Life! already ask for more?

I paid laft Bout, and you must quit the Score:
"Poor five 5 Seftertia have been all my Gains,
"And what is that for fuch detefted Pains?
What is an Eafe and Pleasure, cou'dft thou fay
(Where Nature's Law forbids) to force my way
To the digefted Meals of yesterday?

The Slave more toil'd and harrafs'd will be found,
Who digs his Mafter's Buttocks, than his Ground:
But fure old Virro thinks himself a Boy,

Whom Jove once more might languish to enjoy:
Sees not his wither'd Face and grizly Hair,

}

}

But would be thought Smooth, Charming, Soft, and Fair; With Female Pride wou'd have his Love be fought,

And every Smile with a Rich Prefent bought.

Say, Goat, for whom this Mass of Wealth you heap?
For whom thy hoarded Bags in filence sleep?
Apulian Farms, for the Rich Soil admir'd?
And thy large Fields where Falcons may be tir'd?
Thy Fruitful Vineyards on Campanian Hills?
(Tho' none drinks lefs, yet none more Veffels fills)

A fmall Coin among the Romans

From

From fuch a Store 'tis barbarous to grudge.
A fmall Relief to your Exhaufted Drudge:
Weigh well the Matter, wer't not fitter much
The Poor Inhabitants of yonder Thatch

Gall'd me their Lord (who to Extreams am driven)
Than to fome worthless Sycophant be given?
(Yet what smooth Sycophant by thee can gain?
When Luft it felf ftrikes thy Flint-Heart in vain?)
A Beggar! Fie! 'tis Impudence, (he cry'd)
And fuch mean fhifting Answers ftill reply'd:
But Rent unpaid, fays Begg, till Virro Grant;
(How ill does Modefty confift with Want?)
My fingle Boy (like Polyphemus' Eye)
Mourns his harth Fate, and weeps for a Supply.
One will not do, hard Labour'd and hard Fed,
How then fhall Hungry two expect their Bread?
What fhall I fay, when rough December ftorms?
When Frofts, and Snow, have crampt their Naked Arms?
What Comforts without Mony can I bring?
Will they be fatisfy'd to think on Spring?

-7

Thefe Motives urg'd to his Obdurate Mind,
Is cafting Water to the adverse Wind;
But one thing yet, bafe Wretch, I muft impart,
Thy felf halt own, ungrateful as thou art:
At your Intreaties, had not I obey'd;
Still your deluded Wife had been a Maid:
Down on the Bridal-bed a Maid fhe lay,
A Maid the role, at the approaching Day.
Another Night, thy lumpish Love the try'd,
But ftill fhe rofe, a Virgin, and a Bride:

What cou'd have touch'd her more! away the flung,
And every, Street of thy loft Manhood rung.

6 A Gyant of Sicily, and one of the Cyclops who had but one Eye, and that in his

Forehead, which Vlyffes by Craft put out, and efesp'd from him, &s.

Her

Her fpeaking Eyes were full of thy Difgrace;

And her vext Thoughts abhorr'd the cold Embrace.

Such Wrongs, what Wishing Woman cou'd have born? -
In Rage, the Marriage Articles were torn:

Yet when the vow'd to fee thy Face no more,
And Heartless thou ftood'ft whining at the Door,.
I met the Angry Fair, all over Charms,
And catch'd her flying from thy Frozen Arms:
Much Pains it coft to Right the injur'd Dame;.
A whole Night's Vigour, to repair thy fhame:
Witness your felf, who heard the lab'ring Bed,
And Shrieks at the departing Maiden-Head:
"Thus many a Spoufe, who wou'd her Choice recant
"Is kept Obedient by a Kind Gallant:

Now cou'd you fhift all this, and pass it o'er,
Yet (Monster) I have left one Inftance more.
Think, if fo well her Bufinefs I have done,
As that Night's Service may produce a Son,.
Our Roman Laws great Privilege afford
To him that ftands a Father-on Record:
Thy felf, 'tis true, a Cuckold thou must own,
But that Reproach is in my Breaft alonė;
To me the Pleasure be, to thee the Fame,
My Brat fhall thy Abilities proclaim;

And free thee ever from Inglorious Shame.
Let circling Wreaths adorn thy crowded Door,
Matrons, and Girls, fhall hoot at thee no more,
But Stories to thy lafting Credit raise,
While fumbling Fribbles grudge thy borrow'd Praife.
Fuv. True, Nevolus, moft aptly you complain
But tho' your Griefs are juft, they are in vain:
Your Service past, he does with Scorn forget,
And feeks fome other Fool, like thee, to cheat.
Nev. Beware, my Friend, and what I now reveal,
As the great Secret of thy Life conceal

A luftful Pathick, when he turns a Foe;
He gives like Destiny a wardless Blow:
His Crimes are fuch, they will not bear a Jeft,
And Fire and Sword pursue the conscious Breast.
For sweet Revenge no Drugs will be too dear
In Luft, a Mifer, but a Spendthrift here.
Then flight him not, nor with his Scandal sport,
But be as Mute as was 7th'Athenian Court.

Juv. Dull Corydon! Art thou fo ftupid grows,
To think a Rich Man's Faults can be unknown?
Has he not Slaves about him? Would not they
Rejoyce, and Laugh, fuch Secrets to betray?
What more effectual to revenge their Wrongs,
Than the unbounded Freedom of their Tongues?^
Or grant it poffible to filence thofe,

Dumb Beafts and Statues wou'd his Crimes expofe;
Try to Imprifon the refiftlefs Wind,

So fwift is Guilt, fo hard to be confin'd;
Tho' crafty Tears fhou'd caft a Vail between,
Yet in the Dark, his Vices wou'd be feen:
And there's a Luft in Man no Charm can tame
Of loudly publishing our Neighbour's Shame;.
On Eagle Wings immortal Scandals fly,
While Virtuous Actions are but Born, and Dye.
Let us live well, were it alone for This,
The baneful Tongues of Servants to despise.
Slander (the worst of Poyfons) ever finds
An cafie Entrance, to ignoble Minds:

Andrhey whofe Vicious Lives, fuch abject Foes must fear,
More mean and wretched far than their own Slaves appear.
Nev. Your Counfel's Good and Ufeful, tis confefs'd;
But (oh) to me it is in vain address'd:

7 The Areopagus, or Court of Juffice at Athens, where they gave Sentence by Characters and Signs, &c.

8 The Common Name of a

Shepherd, which he applies to
Nevolus, for his Ignorance and
Simplicity, in thinking the
Vices of Great Men can be
conceal'd

Let the Great Man, whom gaping Crowds attend,
Fear a fcourg'd Slave, or a diffembling Friend;
No matter what I do, or what I fay,
I have no Spies about me to betray:
And you advise me now my time is loft,
And all my Hopes of profp'rous Hours are Croft;
My full-blown Youth already fades apace,
(Of our fhort Being, 'tis the shortest space!)
While melting Pleasures in our Arms are found,
While Lovers fmile, and while the Bowl goes
While in furprizing Joys intranc'd we lie,
Old Age creeps on us, ere we think it nigh.

round;

Juv. Fear not, thy Trade will never find an End,
While yon Hills ftand thou can'st not want a Friend;
By Land, and Sea, from every Point they come,
Then dread no Dearth of Proftitutes at Rome.
Nev. Tell this to Happier Men, for I am sped,
If all my Drudging can procure me Bread.
Ye Deities! The Substitutes of Heav'n!
To whom the Guide of Human Life is giv'n;
At whofe lov'd Altars, with an ample Zeal,
(Tho' flender Sacrifice) I daily kneel,

His Ebbing Hours let your Poor Suppliant fee,
From the mean Crutch, and a thatcht Cottage free;
No fhameful Want, nor troublesom Disease,
But eafie Death approaching by degrees;
Neceffity fupply'd, wou'd Comfort bring:
Yet conftant Store wou'd be a Glorious thing:
To treat a Friend, methinks, I wou'd afford,
While Silver Bowls ftand fmiling on my Board:
And when the Cares of Rome to Pleasure yield;
Two Mafian Slaves fhou'd bear me to the Field:

9 The feven Hills on which Rome was built.

cany, famous for the great fize and strength of the Inha

10 Mafia, a place near Tuf- bitants.

Where,