The loft Eftate: What more than Madness reigns,
When one short Sitting many Hundreds drains,
And not enough is left him to supply
Board-Wages, or a Footman's Livery ?
What Age fo many Summer-Seats did fee?
Or which of our Forefathers far'd fo well,
As on feven Dishes, at a private Meal?
Clients of old were Feafted; now a poor
Divided Dole is dealt at th' outward Door;
Which by the hungry Rout is foon difpatch'd:
The paltry Largefs, too, feverely watch'd,
Ere given; and ev'ry Face obferv'd with Care,
That no intruding Guests ufurp a Share.
Known, you Receive: The Cryer calls aloud
Our Old Nobility of Trojan Blood,
Who gape among the Crowd for their precarious Food.
The Prætors, and the Tribunes Voice is heard;
The Freedman juftles, and will be preferr❜d;
First come, first ferv'd, he cries; and I, in spight
Of your Great Lordships, will maintain my Right.
Tho' born a Slave, tho' 20 my torn Ears are bor'd,
'Tis not the Birth, 'tis Money makes the Lord,
The Rent of Five fair Houfes I receive;
What greater Honours can the Purple give?
The poor Patrician is reduc'd to keep,
In Melancholly Walks, a Grazier's Sheep:
Not 22 Pallus nor Licinius had my Treasure;
Then let the facred Tribunes .wait my Leisure.
20 Though my torn Ears are lor'd: The Ears of all Slaves were bor❜d as a Mark of their Servitude; which Cuftom is ftill ufual in the East-Indies, and in other Parts, even for whole Nations; who bore prodigious Holes in their Ears,
and wear vaft Weights at them.
21 The poor Patrician; the poor Nobleman.
22 Pallus, or Licinius. Pallus, a Slave freed by Claudius Cafar, and rais'd by his Favour to great Riches. Licinius was another wealthy Freedman, belonging to Augustus.
Once a poor Rogue, 'tis true, I trod the Street,
And trudg'd to Rome upon my naked Feet:
Gold is the greatest God; though yet we see
No Temples rais'd to Money's Majesty,
No Altars fuming to her Pow'r Divine,
Such as to Valour, Peace and Virtue fhine,
And Faith, and Concord: 23 where the Stork on high
Seems to falute her Infant Progeny:
Prefaging pious Love with her aufpicious Cry.
But fince our Knights and Senators account
To what their fordid begging Vails amount,
Judge what a wretched fhare the Poor attends,
Whofe whole Subfiftence on those Alms depends!
Their Houfhold-Fire, their Rayment, and their Food,
Prevented 24 by thofe Harpies; when a Wood
Of Litters thick befiege the Donor's Gate,
And begging Lords and teeming Ladies wait
The promis'd Dole: Nay, fome have learn'd the Trick
To beg for abfent Perfons; feign them fick,
Clofe mew'd in their Sedans, for fear of Air:
And for their Wives produce an empty Chair.
This is my Spoufe: Difpatch her with her Share.
'Tis 25 Galla: Let her Ladyship but peep:
No, Sir, 'tis pity to disturb her Sleep.
23 Where the Stork on high, &c. Perhaps the Storks were us'd to build on the top of the Temple dedicated to Concord,
24 Prevented by thofe Harpies: He calls the Roman Knights, c. Harpies, or Devourers: In those Days the Rich made Doles intended for the poor: But the Great were either fo Covetous, or fo Needy, that they came in their Litters to
Such fine Employments our whole Days divide: The Salutations of the Morning tide
the Sun; thofe ended, to the Hall
We wait the Patron, hear the Lawyers baul;
Then 26 to the Statues; where amidst the Race
Of Conqu❜ring Rome, fome Arab fhews his Face,
Infcrib'd with Titles, and profanes the Place;
Fit to be pifs'd against, and fomewhat more.
The Great Man, home conducted, fhuts his Door;
Old Clients, weary'd out with fruitless Care,
Difimifs their hopes of eating, and despair.
Though much against the Grain, forc'd to retire,
Buy Roots for Supper, and provide a Fire.
Mean time his Lordship lolls within at Ease,
Pamp'ring his Paunch with Foreign Rarities;
Both Sea and Land are ranfack'd for the Feaft,
And his own Gut the fole invited Guest.
Such Plate, fuch Tables, Difhes drefs'd fo well,
That whole Eftates are fwallow'd at a Meal.
Ev'n Parafites are banifh'd from his Board:
(At once a fordid and luxurious Lord :)
Prodigious Throat, for which whole Boars are dreft;
(A Creature form'd to furnish out a Feast.)
But prefent Punishment purfues his Maw,
When furfeited and fwell'd, the Peacock raw
of the Servant who diftributes
the Dole; Let me fee her, that
I may be fure fhe is within the
Litter. The Husband anfwers,
fhe is afleep, and to open the
Litter would difturb her Rest.
26 Then to the Statues, &c. The Poet here tells you how the Idle pafs'd their time; in going firft to the Levees of the Great, then to the Hall, that is, to the Temple of Apollo,
to hear the Lawyers Plead, then to the Market-place of Auguftas, where the Statues of the famous Romans were set in Ranks on Pedestals: Amongst which Statues were feen those of Foreigners, fuch as Arabs, &c. who, for no Defert, but only on the account of their Wealth, or Favour, were placed amongst the Nobleft.
He bears into the Bath; whence want of Breath,
Repletions, Apoplex, inteftate Death.
His Fate makes Table-Talk, divulg'd with Scorn,
And he, a Jeft, into his Grave is born.
No Age can go beyond us: Future Times
Can add no farther to the present Crimes.
Our Sons but the fame things can wish and do;
Vice is at ftand, and at the highest flow.
Then Satyr fpread thy Sails; take all the Winds can blow.
Some may, perhaps, demand what Mufe can yield
Sufficient Strength for fuch a fpacious Field?
From whence can be deriv'd fo large a Vein,
Bold Truths to speak, and spoken to maintain?
When God-like Freedom is fo far bereft
The Noble Mind, that scarce the Name is left?
Ere Scandalum Magnatum was begot,
No matter if the Great forgave or not:
But if that honeft Licence now you take,
If into Rogues Omnipotent you rake,
Death is your Doom, impail'd upon a Stake;
Smear'd o'er with Wax, and fet on fire, to light
The Streets, and make a dreadful Blaze by Night.
Shall They who drench'd three Uncles in a draught
Of poys'nous Juice be then in Triumph brought,
Make Lanes among the People where they go,
And, mounted high on downy Chariots, throw
Difdainful Glances on the Crowd below?
Be filent, and beware, if fuch you fee ;
'Tis Defamation but to fay, That's He!
Against 27 bold Turnus the Great Trojan Arm,
Amidst their strokes the Poet gets no Harm:
27 Against bold Turnus, &c. | A Poet may fafely write an Heroick Poem, fuck as that of
Virgil, who defcribes the Duel of Turnus and Æneas; or of Homer who writes of Achilles
Achilles may in Epique Verse be flain,
And none of all his Myrmidons complain :
Hylas may drop his Pitcher, none will cry;
Not if he drown himself for Company:
But when Lucilius brandishes his Pen,
And flashes in the Face of Guilty Men,
A cold Sweat ftands in drops on ev'ry part;
And Rage fucceeds to Tears, Revenge to Smart:
Mufe, be advis'd; 'tis paft confid'ring time,
When enter'd once the dang'rous Liits of Rhime:
Since none the Living-Villains dare implead,
Arraign them in the Ferfons of the Dead.
and Hector; or the Death of Hylas the Catamite of Hercules; who ftooping for Water, dropt his Pitcher, and fell into the
Well after it. But 'tis dange rous to write Satire like Lucilius.
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