But hope not thou, in this vile age, to find
Those rare examples of a faithful mind.
The fea fhall fooner with fweet honey flow;
Or from the furzes pears and apples grow.
We fin with guft, we love by fraud to gain;
And find a pleasure in our fellow's pain.
From rival foes you may the fair defend ;
But, would you ward the blow, beware
friend:
your brother, and your next of kin ; 860 But from your bofom-friend your care begin. Here I had ended, but experience finds, That fundry women are of fundry minds; With various crotchets fill'd, and hard to please: They therefore must be caught by various All things are not produc'd in any foil; This ground for wine is proper, that for oil. So 'tis in men, but more in womankind: Different in face, in manners, and in mind: But wife men fhift their fails with
every wind As changeful Proteus vary'd oft his shape, 871 And did in fundry forms and figures 'scape; A running ftream, a standing tree became, A roaring lion, or a bleating lamb.
Some fish with harpons, fome with darts are
Some drawn with nets, fome hang upon the
So turn thyfelf; and imitating them,
Try feveral tricks, and change thy ftratagem.
One rule will not for different ages hold;
The jades grow cunning, as they grow more
Then talk not bawdy to the bashful maid ;
Broad words will make her innocence afraid.
Nor to an ignorant girl of learning speak;
She thinks you conjure, when you talk in Greek.
And hence 'tis often feen, the fimple fhun
The learn'd, and into vile embraces run.
Part of my task is done, and part to do:
But here 'tis time to reft myself and you.
FOR mighty wars I thought to tune my lute,
And make my measures to my subject fuit.
Six feet for ev'ry verfe the Mufe defign'd:
But Cupid, laughing, when he faw my
mind,
From ev'ry fecond verfe a foot purloin'd.
Who gave thee, boy, this arbitrary sway,
On fubjects, not thy own, commands to lay,
Who Phoebus only and his laws obey?
'Tis more abfurd than if the Queen of Love
Should in Minerva's arms to battle move;
Or manly Pallas from that queen fhould take
Her torch, and o'er the dying lover shake.
In fields as well may Cynthia fow the corn,
Or Ceres wind in woods the bugle-horn.
As well may Phœbus quit the trembling string,
For fword and fhield; and Mars may learn to
Already thy dominions are too large;
Be not ambitious of a foreign charge.
If thou wilt reign o'er all, and every where,
The god of Mufic for his harp may fear.
Thus when with foaring wings I seek renown, Thou pluck'ft my pinions, and I flutter down. Could I on fuch mean thoughts my Mufe employ,
I want a mistress or a blooming boy.
Thus I complain'd: his bow the stripling bent,
And chofe an arrow fit for his intent.
The shaft his purpose fatally pursues ;
Now, poet, there's a fubject for thy Mufe.
He faid too well, alas, he knows his trade ;
For in my breaft a mortal wound he made. 30
Far hence, ye proud hexameters, remove,
My verfe is pac'd and trammel'd into love.
With myrtle wreaths my thoughtful brows in-
clofe,
While in unequal verfe I fing my woes.
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