But if a Fever fires his Sulphurous Blood, In ev'ry Fit he feels the Hand of God,

And Heav'n-born Flame: Then drown'd in deep Despair,
He dares not offer one repenting Prayer;
Nor vow one Victim to preserve his Breath;
Amaz'd he lies, and fadly looks for Death:
For how can Hope with defperate Guilt agree?
And the worst Beast is worthier Life than he.

XXI.

He that once Sins, like him that flides on Ice,
Goes fwiftly down the flippery Ways of Vice;
Tho' Conscience checks him, yet, thofe Rubs gone o'ef,
He flides on fmoothly, and looks back no more.
What Sinners finifh where they first begin?
And with one Crime content their Luft to Sin?
Nature, that rude, and in her firft Effay,
Stood boggling at the Roughnefs of the Way;
Us'd to the Road, unknowing to return,

Goes boldly on, and loves the Path when worn.
XXII.

Fear not, but pleas'd with this fuccessful Bait,
Thy Perjur'd Friend will quickly tempt his Fate;
He will go on, until his Crimes provoke

The Arm Divine to ftrike the fatal Stroke;

Then thou shalt fee him plung'd, when leaft he fears,
At once accounting for his deep Arrears;

Sent to those narrow Ifles, which throng'd we fee
With mighty Exiles, once fecure as He;

Drawn to the Gallows, or condemn'd to Chains :

Then thou shalt triumph in the Villain's Pains,
Enjoy his Groans; and with a grateful Mind
Confefs, that Heav'n is neither Deaf nor Blind.

You rage and ftorm, and blafphemously loud,
As 8 Stentor bellowing to the Grecian Crowd,

Or Homer's 9 Mars, with too much Warmth exclaim;
Jove, doft Thou hear, and is thy Thunder tame?
Wert Thou all Brass, thy Brazen Arm should rage,
And fix the Wretch a Sign to fatare Age:
Elfe why fhou'd Mortals to thy Feafts repair,
Spend useless Incense, and more afeless Prayer?
Bathyllus Statue at this rate may prove
Thy equal Rival, or a greater ove

XIV.

Be cool, my Friend, and hear my Mufe difpenfe Some fovereign Comforts, drawn from common Sense; Not fetch'd from Stoicks rigid Schools, nor wrought By Epicurus' more indulgent Thought; Who led by Nature, did with Eafe purfue The Rules of Life; guefs'd beft, tho' miss'd the true, A desperate Wound muft skilful Hands employ, But thine is curable by 11 Philip's Boy.

XV.

Look o'er the prefent and the former Time:
If no Example of fo Vile à Crime

Appears, then Mourn; admit no kind Relief,
But beat thy Breast, and I applaud thy Grief;
Let Sorrow then appear in all her State,
Keep mournful Silence, and fhut faft thy Gate.
Let folemn Grief on Money loft attend,
Greater than waits upon a dying Friend;

and form, and babe None feigns, none afted Mourning's forc'd to show,
atar bellowing to the Gracia Or fqueeze his Eyes to make that Torrent flow;
er's 9 Mars, with too mach For Money loft demands a heartier Due;
de Thou hear, and is thy The Then Tears are real, and the Grief is true.

nou all Brass, thy Brazen Arm At

But if at each Affize, and Term, we try

the Wretch a Sign to farare Age: A thousand Rascals of as deep a Dye;
yfhou'd Mortals to thy Feafs f Men forfwear the Deeds and Bonds they draw,
Class Incense, and more el Pr Tho' Sign'd with all Formality of Law,

10 Statue at this rate may p

al Rival, or a greater fest

XIV.

Friend, and hear my , my reign Comforts, drawn from county a from Sticks rigid Schools, n ws' more indulgent Though Nature, did with Eafe pre

And tho' the Writing and the Seal proclaim
The barefac'd Perjury, and fix the Shame;
Go, Fortune's Darling, nor expect to bear
The common Lot, but to avoid thy Share!
Heav'n's Favourite Thou, for better Fates defign'd,
Than we the Dregs and Rubbish of Mankind!
XVI.

This petty Sinner fcarce deserves thy Rage,

of Life; guefs'd beft, tho' Compar'd with the great Villains of the Age.

Wound muft skilful Hands curable by 11 Philip's Boy. XV.

Here hir'd Affaffins kill; there, Sulphur thrown,
By treacherous Hands, deftroys the frighted Town.
Bold Sacrilege, invading Things Divine,
Breaks through a Temple, or deftroys a Shrine,
The Reverend Goblets, and the ancient Plate,
Those grateful Prefents of a Conqu'ring State,
Or pious King; or if the Shrine be poor,
The Image fpoils: Nor is the God fecure.
One feizes Neptune's Beard, one Cafter's Crown,
Or Jove himself, and melts the Thundrer down.

the present and the former Tim e of fo Vile à Crime Mourn; admit no kind Re reaft, and I applaud thy Grid, n appear in all her State, Silence, and that fall thy Gat f on Money loft attend, aits upon a dying Friend;

mous Crier Thouland Men Bonif

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Here Pois'ner's murder, there the impious Son, With whom a lefs 12 Ape is doom'd to drown,

Prevents old Cuts down} what

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ick

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too flow.
of Crimes,
imes,

n Ape, and Sea.

Which

JUVENAL

THE

FOURTEENTH SATYR.

By Mr. JOHN DRYDEN, Jun.

The ARGUMENT.

Since domeftick Examples eafily corrupt our Youth' the Poet prudently exhorts all Parents, that they themselves fhould abstain from evil Practices: Among ft which, he chiefly points at Dice and Gaming, Taverns, Drunkenness, and Cruelty, which they exercis'd upon their Slaves: Left after their pernicious Example, their Sons fhould copy them in their Vices, and become Gamefters, Drunkards, and Tyrants, Læftrigons, and Cannibals to their Servants. For, if the Father, Says Juvenal, love the Box and Dice, the Boy will be given to an itching Elbow: Neither is it to be expected, that the Daughter of Larga the Adulterefs, fhou'd be more continent than her Mother: Since we are all by Nature more apt to receive ill Impreffions than good; and are befides more pliant in our Infancy MOTHE