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Cover the Country, that a failing Kite
Can fcarce o'erfly 'em, in a Day and Night;

Him, doft thou mean, who fpight of all his Store,
Is ever craving, and will still be poor?

Who cheats for Half-pence, and who doffs his Coat,
To fave a Farthing in a Ferry-boat?

Ever a Glutton, at another's Cost,

But in whofe Kitchin dwells perpetual Frost?
Who eats and drinks with his Domeftick Slaves;
A verier Hind-than any of his Knaves?
Born with the Curfe and Anger of the Gods,
And that indulgent Genius he defrauds?
At Harvest-home, and on the Sheering-Day,
When he fhou'd 6 Thanks to Pan and Pales pays.
And better Ceres; trembling to approach
The little Barrel, which he fears to broach:
He 'fays the Wimble, often draws it back,
And deals to thirsty Servants but a smack.
To a fhort Meal he makes a tedious Grace,
Before the Barley Pudding comes in place:
Then, bids fall on; himself, for faving Charges,
A peel'd flic'd Onion eats, and tipples Verjuice.

Thus fares the Drudge: But thou, whofe Life's a Dream Of lazy Pleafnres, tak'st a worse Extream. ris all thy bus'nefs, bus'ness how to fhun; To bask thy naked Body in the Sun;

Name then living. I have Virgil invocates in the begin-tranflated this Paffage para-ning of his Second Georgique. phrastically, and loofly; and I give the Epithet of Better leave it for thofe to look on, to Ceres, because the firft who are not unlike the Pi-taught the Ufe of Corn for &ture. Bread, as the Poets tell us. Men, in the first rude Ages,feeding only on Acorns, or Maft, instead of Bread.

6 When he shou'd Thanks, &c. Pan the God of Shepherds, and Pales the Goddefs prefiding over rural Affairs, whom

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Suppling

Suppling thy ftiffned Joints with fragrant Oil:
Then, in thy fpacious Garden, walk a while,
To fuck the Moisture up, and foak it in:

And this, thou think'ft, but vainly think'ft, unfeen.
But, know, thou art obferv'd: and there are those
Who, if they durft, wou'd all thy fecret Sins expofe.
The 7 Depilation of thy modeft Part:

Thy Catamite, the Darling of thy Heart,
His Engine-hand, and ev'ry lewder Art.
When, prone to beár, and patient to receive,

Thou tak❜ft the Pleafure, which thou can'ft not give
With odorous Oil thy Head and Hair are fleek;
And then thou kemb'ft the Tuzzes on thy Checke
Of these thy Barbers take a costly Care,
While thy falt Tail is over-grown with Hair.
Not all thy Pincers, nor unmanly Arts,
Can smooth the roughness of thy fhameful Parts
Not 8 five, the strongest that the Circus breeds,
From the rank Soil can root those wicked Weeds:

7 The Depilation of thy modeft Fart, &c. Our Author here tasks Nero, covertly, with that Effeminate Custom now us'd in Italy, and especially by Harlots, of fmoothing their Bellies, and takting off the Hairs which grow about their Secrets. In Nero's time they were pull'd off with Pincers; but now they use a Paste, which apply'd to thofe Parts, when it is remov'd, carries away with it thofe Excrefcen

cies.

8 Not five the frongeft, &c. The Learned Holiday, (who

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has made us amends for his. bad Poetry in this and the reft of these Satyrs, with his excellent Illuftrations,) here tells us, from good Authority, that the Number Five does not allude to the Five Fingers of one Man, who us❜d them all, in taking off the Hairs before mentioned; but to Five ftrong Men, fuch as were skilful in the five robuft Exercifes, then in practice at Rome, and were performed in the Circus, or Publick Place, ordained for them. Thefe Five he reckons up in this

manner:

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Tho' fuppled first with Soap, to ease thy pain,
The ftubborn Fern fprings up, and sprouts again.
Thus others we with Defamations wound,
While they ftab us; and fo the Jeft goes round. 1
Vain are thy Hopes, to 'fcape cenforious Eyes;
Truth will appear through all the thin Disguise:
Thou haft an Ulcer which no Leach can heal,
Tho' thy broad Shoulder-belt the Wound conceal.
Say thou art found and hale in ev'ry Part,
We know, we know thee rotten at thy Heart.
We know thee fullen, impotent and proud:

Nor can't thou cheat thy 9 Nerve, who cheat'ft the Croud
But when they praife me, in the Neighbourhood,
When the pleas'd People take me for a God,
Shall I refufe their Incenfe? Not receive

The loud Applaufes which the Vulgar give?

If thou do'ft Wealth, with longing Eyes, behold; And, greedily, art gaping after Ge'd;

If fome alluring Girl, in gliding by,

Shall tip the Wink, with a lascivious Eye,
And thou, with a confenting Glance, reply;
If thou, thy own Sollicitor become,
And bid'ft arise the lumpish Pendulum:
If thy lewd Luft provokes an empty Storm,
And prompts to more than Nature can perform;

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Leaping: And the Fifth Wrest ling naked, and besmear'd with Oil. They who were practis'd in these Five Manly Exete cifes, were call'd Пivτabor

manner: 1. The Caftus, or Whirlbats, defcrib'd by Virgil, in his fifth Æneid; and this was the most dangerous of all the reft. The Second was the Foot-race. The Third the Dif 9 Thy Nerve, &c. That is, cus, like the throwing a weigh- thou canst not deceive thy, ty Ball; a Sport now us'd in obfcene Part, which is weak, Cornwall, and other Parts of or impotent, tho' thou mak'st England; we may fee it daily Oftentation of thy Perfor practis'd in Red-Lion Fields.mances with Women, The Fourth was the Saltus, or

If, with thy 10 Guards, thou fcour'ft the Streets by Night,
And do'ft in Murthers, Rapes, and Spoils delight;
Please not thy felf, the flatt'ring Crowd to hear;
"Tis fulfome stuff, to feed thy itching Ear.
Reject the Naufeous Praises of the Times:
Give thy bafe Poets back their cobbled Rhimes :
Survey thy Soul, not what thou do'st appear,
But what thou art; and find the Beggar there.

10 If with thy Guars. &c. Perfius durft not have een fo bold with Nero, as I dare now; and therefore there is only an intimation of that in him, which I publickly fpeak: I mean of Nero's walking in the Streets by Night, in difguife, and committing all forts of Outrages; for which he was fometimes well beaten.

II Survey thy Soul, &c. That is, look into thy felf, and examine thy own Confcience; there thou shalt find, that how wealthy foever thou appeareft to the World, yet thou art but a Beggar; because thou art deftitute of all Virtues, which are the Riches of the Soul. This also was a Paradox of the Stoick School,

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