10

And yet the fate of all extremes is fuch,
Men may be read, as well as Books, too much.
To obfervations which ourfelves we make,
We grow more partial for th' Obferver's fake;
To written Wisdom, as another's, lefse
Maxims are drawn from Notions, thefe from Guefs.
There's fome Peculiar in each leaf and grain,
Some unmark'd fibre, or fome varying vein:
Shall only Man be taken in the grofs?
Grant but as many forts of Mind as Mofs.

75

80

Early at Bufinefs, and at Hazard late;
Mad at a Fox chafe, wife at a Debate 4
Drunk at a Borough, civil at a Ball;
Friendly at Hackney, faithful at Whitehall.
Catius is ever moral, ever grave,
Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave,
15 Save juft at dinner-then prefers, no doubt,
A Rogue with Vénifon to a Saint without.
Who would not praise Patricio's high desert,
His hand unftain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
His comprehenfive head! all Interests weigh'd,
20 All Europe fav'd, yet Britain not betray'd.
He thanks you not, his Pride is in Picquette,
Newmarket-fame, and judgment at a Bett.
What made (fay, Montague, or more fage Char-
ron!)

That each from other differs, first confefs;
Next, that he varies from himself no less;
Add Nature's, Cuftom's, Reafon's, Paffion's ftrife,
And all Opinion's colours caft on life.

Our depths who fathoms, or our fhallows finds,
Quick whirls, and shifting eddies, of our minds?
On human actions reason though you can,
It may be Reason, but it is not Man:
His Principle of action once explore,
That inftant 'tis his Principle no more.

Like following life through creatures you diffect,
You lofe it in the moment you detect.

Yet more; the difference is as great between
The optics feeing, as the objects feen.

All Manners take a tincture from our own;
Or come difcolour'd through our Paffions shown.
Or Fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
Nor will Life's ftream for obfervation stay,
It hurries all too fast to mark their way:
In vain fedate reflections we would make,
When half our knowledge we must fnatch,
take.

85

15 Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon?.
A perjur'd Prince a leaden faint revere,
A godlefs Regent tremble at a Star?
The throne a Bigot keep, a Genius quit,
Faithlefs through Piety, and dup'd through Wit?
30 Europe a Woman, Child, or Dotard rule,
And juft her wifeft monarch made a fool?,

Know, God and Nature only are the fame : 95
In Man, the judgment shoots at flying game;
A bird of paffage! gone as soon as found,

35 Now in the Moon perhaps, now under ground.
In vain the fage, with retrospective eye,
Would from th' apparent What conclude the Why,

100

Infer the Motive from the Deed, and fhew, not That what we chanc'd was what we meant to do. 40 Behold if Fortune or a Mistress frowns,

Oft, in the Paffion's wild rotation toft,
Our fpring of action to ourselves is loft:
Tir'd, not determin'd, to the laft we yield,
And what comes then is mafter of the field.
As the laft image of that troubled heap,
When fenfe fubfides and fancy fports in fleep,
(Though paft the recollection of the thought)
Becomes the stuff of which our dream is wrought:
Something as dim to our internal view,
Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do.

50

55

True, fome are open, and to all men known;
Others, fo very clofe, they 're hid from none;
(So darkness strikes the fenfe no less than light)
Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at fight;
And every child hates Shylock, though his foul
Still fits at fquat, and peeps not from its hole.
At half mankind when generous Manly raves,
All know 'tis Virtue, for he thinks them knaves :
When univerfal homage Umbra pays,
All fee 'tis Vice, and itch of vulgar praife.
When Flattery glares, all hate it in a Queen,
While one there is who charms us with his Spleen.
But thefe plain Characters we rarely find:
Though ftrong the bent, yet quick the turns

mind:

Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole;
Or Affectations quite reverse the foul.
The Dull, flat Falfehood ferves, for policy;
And in the Cunning, Truth itfelf's à lie:
Unthought-of Frailties cheat us in the Wife;
The Fool lies hid in inconfiftencies.

See the fame man, in vigour, in the gout;
Alene, in company; in place, or out;

60

of

The few that glare, each chara&er must mark,
You balance not the many in the dark.
What will you do with fuch as difagree?
Supprefs them, or mifcall them policy?
Muft then at once (the character to fave)
The plain rough Hero turn a crafty Knave?
65 Alas! in truth the man but chang'd his mind,
Perhaps was fick, in love, or had not din'd.
Afk why from Britain Cæfar could retreat?
Cæfar himself might whisper, he was beat.
Why rifk the World's great empire for a Punk?
70 Cæfar perhaps might answer, he was drunk.

125

130

But, fage hiftorians! 'tis your task to prove
One action Conduct; one, heroic Love.

'Tis

'Tis from high Life high characters are drawn:
A Saint in Crape is twice a Saint in Lawn;
A Judge is juft, a Chancellor jufler ftill;

A Gownman, learn'd; a Bishop, what you will ?.
Wife, if a Minitter; but, if a King,

More wife, more learn'd, more jut, more every
thing.

140

Court-Virtues bear, like Gems, the highest rate,
Born where Heaven's influence fcarce can penetrate:
In life's low vale, the foil the Virtues like,
They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
Though the fame fun with all diffufive rays
Blush in the Rofe, and in the Diamond blaze,
We prize the stronger effort of his power,
And justly fet the Gem above the Flower.

'Tis Education forms the common mind;
Juft as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.
Boaftful and rough, your first son is a 'Squire;
The next a Tradefman, meek, and mucli a lyar;
Tom ftruts a Soldier, open, bold and brave;
Will fneaks a Scrivener, an exceeding knave:
Is he a Churchman? then he's fond of power: 155
A Quaker? fly: A Presbyterian? four:
A fmart Free-thinker? all things in an hour.

Afk men's Opinions: Scoto now fhall tell
How Trade increases, and the world goes well;
Strike off his Penfion, by the fetting fun,
And Britain, if not Europe, is undone..

That gay Free thinker, a fine talker once,
What turns him now a stupid, filent, dunce?
Some Cod, or Spirit, he has lately found;
Or chanc'd to meet a Minister that frown'd.
Judge we by Nature? Habit can efface,
Intereft o'ercome, or policy take place:
By Actions? thofe Uncertainty divides:
By Paffions? thefe Diffimulation hides:
Opinions? they still take a wider range :
Find, if you can, in what you cannot change.
Manners with Fortunes, Humours turns
Climes,

145

150

A conflant Bounty, which no Friend has made ;
An Angel Tongue, which no man can perfuade;
A Fool, with more of Wit than half mankind, 20
Too rafh for Thought, for A&tion too refin'd:
A Tyrant to the wife his heart appróvés;
A Rebel to the very king he loves;
He dies, fad outcaft of each church and state,
And, harder ftill! Alagitious, yet not great.
Afk you why Wharton broke through every rule?
'I'was all for fear the Knaves should call him Fool.
Nature well known, no prodigies remain,
Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.

205

Yet, in this fearch, the wifeft may mistake, 210
If fecond qualities for firft they take.

When Catiline by rapine fwell'd his store;
When Cæfar made a noble dame a whore ;
In this the Luft, in that the Avarice,

Were means, not ends; Ambition was the vice. arg
That very Cafar, born in Scipio's days,
Had aim'd like him, by Chaftity, at praise.
Lucullus, when Frugality could charm,
Had roafted turnips in the Sabine farm.
In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil,
But quite miftakes the fcaffold for the pile.

220

In this one paffion man can strength enjoy,
As Fits give vigour, just when they deftroy.
160 Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it fticks to our last sand. 225
Confiftent in our follies and our fins,
Here honeft nature ends as fhe begins.

165

170

with

Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times.
Search then the Ruling Paffion: There, alone,
The Wild are constant, and the Cunning known; 175
The Fool confiftent, and the False fincere;
Priefts, Princes, Women, no diffemblers here.
This clue once found, unravels all the reft,
The profpect clears, and Wharton stands confeft.
Wharton, the fcorn and wonder of our days,
Whofe ruling Paffion was the luft of Praife:
Eorn with whate'er could win it from the Wife,
Women and Fools muft like him, or he dies:
Though wondering Senates hung on all he spoke,
The Club muft hail him master of the joke.
Shall parts fo various aim at nothing new?
He'll thine a Tully and a Wilmot too.
Then turns repentant, and his God adores
With the fame spirit that he drinks and whores;
Enough if all around him but admire,

And now the Punk applaud, and now the Friar.
Thus with each gift of nature and of art,
And wanting nothing but an honeft heart;
Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt;
And moft contemptible, to fhun contempt;
His paffion ftill, to covet general praife;
His Life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;

230

Old Politicians chew on wifdom past,
|And totter on in butinefs to the latt ;
As weak, as earneft; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanefborow dancing in the gout.
Behold a reverend fire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely prefs'd
By his own fon, that paffes by unblefs'd: 235
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies every sparrow that he fees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late:"
"Mercy," cries Helluo, "mercy on my foul! 240
"Is there no hope ?-Alas! then bring the jowl."

The frugal Crone, whom praying priests at tend,

245

Still ftrives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, 180 Colle&ts her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a faint provoke, (Were the laft words that poor Narciffa fpoke) No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace, "Wrap my cold limbs, and hade my lifeless face: One would not, fure, be frightful when one's drad "And-Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." The Courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd An humble-fervant to all human-kind, just brought out this, when fcarce his tongue could

135

ftir.

250

"If-where I'am going-I cou'd ferve you, Sir!" "I give and I devife (old Euclio faid, 195 And figh'd) "my lands and tenements to Ned" Your money, Sir?" My money, Sir! what all? "Why--if I must-(then wept) I give it Paul

"

The

The manor, Sir? The manor! hold, he cry'd. 260|
"Not that, I cannot part with that"-and dy'd.
And you! brave Cobham, to the latest breath,
Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death:
Such in those moments as in all the paft,

How foft is Silia! fearful to offend;
The fail-one's advocate, the weak-one's friend. 30
To her Califta prov'd her conduct nice;
And good Simplicius afks of her advice.
Sudden, the ftorms' the raves! You tip the wink,

Oh, fave my Country, Heaven!" fhall be your laft. But fpare your cenfure; Silia does not drink.

MORAL ESSAY S.

EPISTLE II.

TO A LADY.

Of the Characters of Women.

35

All eyes may fee from what the change arofe,
All eyes may fee-a Pimple on her nose.
Papillia, wedded to her amorous fpark,
Sighs for the fhades-" How charming is a Park!"
A Park is purchas'd, but the Fair he fees

All bath'd in tears-"Ohodious, odious Trees !" 40
Ladies, like variegated Tulips, fhow,

'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe;
Fine by defect, and delicately weak,
Their happy Spots the nice admirer take.
'Twas thus Calypfo once each heart alarm'd,
Aw'd without Virtue, without Beauty charm'd;
Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her Eyes,
Lefs Wit than Mimic, more a Wit than Wife;
Strange graces ftill, and stranger flights fhe had,
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad;
Yet ne'er fo fure our paffion to create,
As when the touch'd the brink of all we hate.
Narciffa's nature, tolerably mild,

45

50

To make a wah, would hardly stew a child; There is nothing in Mr. Pope's works more highly finish- Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a Lover's prayer, 55 ed than this Epiftle: Yet its fuccefs was in no pro- And paid a Tradefman once to make him stare; tortion to the pains he took in compofing it. Something Gave alms at Easter, in a Chriftian trim; he chanced to drop in a fhort advertisement prefixed And made a Widow happy, for a whim. to it, on its firft fublication, may perhaps account for Why then declare Good-nature is her fcorn, the fmall attention given to it. le faid that no one When 'tis by that alone she can be born? character in it suas drawn from the life. The public Why pique a'l mortals, yet affect a name? believed him on his word, und expreffed little curio-A fool to Pleafure, yet a flave to fame: fity about a Satire, in which there was nothing per-Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs, jonal.

NOTHING fo true as what you once 1-t fall,

60

Now drinkg Citron with his Grace and Chartres;
Now Confcience chills her, and now Paffion burns;
And Atheism and Religion take their turns;

A very
Heathen in the carnal part,
Yet ftill a fad good Christian at her heart.
See Sin in State, majestically drunk,
Proud as a Peerefs, prouder as a Punk;

[65

70

5 Chafte to her Hufband, frank to all befide,
A teeming Miftrefs, but a barren Bride.
What then? let Blood and Body bear the fault,
Her Head's untouch'd, that noble Seat of Thought:
Such this day's doctrine-in another fit

75

10 She fins with Poets through pure love of Wit.
What has not fir'd her bofom or her brain?
Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlemagne.
As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feaft,
The Nofe of Haut-gout, and the Tip of Taste, 80
Critiqu'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat,
Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat :
So Philomedé, lecturing all mankind
On the foft Paffion, and the Taste refin'd,
Th' Addrefs, the Delicacy-stoops at once,
And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.

15

"Moft Women have no Characters at all."
Matter too foft a lasting mark to bear,
And beft diftinguifh'd by black, brown, or fair.
How many pictures of one Nymph we view,
All how unlike each other, all how true!
Arcadia's Countess, here, in ermin'd pride,
there, Paftora by a fountain fide.
Here Fannia, leering on her own good man,
And there, a naked Leda with a Swan.
Let then the fair-one beautifully cry,
In Magdalene's loofe hair, and lifted eye,
Or dreft in fmiles of fweet Cecilia fhine,
With fimpering Angels, Palms, and Harps divine;
Whether the Charmer finner it, or faint it,
If Folly grow romantic, I must paint it.
Come then, the colours and the ground prepare!
Dip in the Rainbow, trick her off in Air;
Choofe a firm Cloud, before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere the change, the Cynthia of this minute. 20
Rufa, whofe eye, quick glancing o'er the Park,
Attracts each light gay meteor of a Spark,
Agrees as ill with Rufa ftudying Locke,
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty fmock;
Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task,
With Sappho fragrant at an evening Mask :
So morning Infects, that in muck begun,
Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the fetting fun.

VOL. VI.

85

Flavia's a Wit, has too mach fenfe to pray;
To toaft our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor afks of God, but of her Stars, to give
The mighty bleffing, "while we live, to live." 90
25 Then all for Death, that Opiate of the foul!
Lucretia's dagger, Rofamonda's bowl.

Say, what can caufe fuch impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spoufe too kind.

3 C

Wife

Wife Wretch with pleasures too refin'd to please; For how should equal Colours do the knack?

95 Chameleons who can paint in white and black?
"Yet Chloe fure was forni'd without a spot,
Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot.
"With every pleafing, every prudent part,
"Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants
Heart

With too much Spirit to be e'er at ease;
With too much Quickness ever to be taught;
With too much Thinking to have common Thought:
You purchafe pain with all that Joy can give,
And die of nothing but a rage to live.

100

Turn then from Wits; and look on Simo's Mate,
No Afs fo meek, no Afs fo obftinate.

Or Her, that owns her faults, but never mends,
Because fhe's honeft, and the best of Friends.
Or her, whofe Life the Church and Scandal fhare,

105

For ever in a Paffion, or a Prayer.
Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace)
Cries, "Ah! how charming, if there's no fuch
place!"

Or who in fweet viciffitude appears
Of Mirth and Opium, Ratafie and Tears,
The daily Anodyne, and nightly Draught,
To kill thofe foes to Fair-ones, Time and Thought.
Woman and Eool are two hard things to hit;
For true No-meaning puzzles more than Wit.

But what are thefe to great Atoffa's mind?
Scarce once herself, by turns all Womankind!
Who, with herself, or others, from her birth
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth:
Shines, in expofing Knaves, and painting Fools,
Yet is, whate'er fhe hates and ridicules.
No thought advances, but her Eddy Brain
Whisks it about, and down it goes again.
Full fixty years the World has been her Trade,
The wifeft Fool much Time has ever made.
From loveless youth to unrefpected age,
No Paffion gratify'd, except her Rage,
So much the Fury fill out-ran the Wit,
The Pleasure mifs'd her, and the Scandal hit.
Who breaks with her, provokes Revenge
Hell,

But he's a bolder man who dares be well.
Her every turn with Violence pursued,
Nor more a ftorm her Hate than Gratitude:
To that each Paffion turns, or foon or late;
Love, if it makes her yield, must make
hate:

115

120

125

from

She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought;
But never, never, reach'd one generous Thought.
Virtue fhe finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in Decencies for ever.
So very reasonable, fo unmov'd,
As never yet to love, or to be lov'd.
She, while her Lover pants upon her breast,
Can mark the figures on an Indian chest;
And when the fees her Friend in deep defpair,
Obferves how much a Chintz exceeds Mohair. 178
Forbid it, Heaven, a Favour or a Debt
She e'er fhould cancel-but she may forget.
Safe is your fecret ftill in Chloe's ear;
But none of Chloe's fhall you ever hear.
Of all her Dears fhe never flander'd one,
But cares not if a thousand are undone.
Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead?
She bids her Footman put it in her head.
Chloe is prudent-Would you too be wife?
Then never break yonr heart when Chloe dies.

175

180

One çertain portrait may I grant) be seen,
Which Heaven has varnifh'd out, and made a
Queen:

The fame for ever! and defcrib'd by all
With Truth and Goodnefs, as with Crown and

Ball.

185

190

195

Poets heap Virtues, Painters Gems at will,
And fhew their zeal, and hide their want of fkill.
Tis well-but, Artists! who can paint or write,
To draw the naked is your true delight.
That Robe of Quality fo ftruts and fwells,
130 None fee what Parts of Nature it conceals:
Th' exacteft traits of Body or of Mind,
We owe to models of an humble kind.
If Queensberry to ftrip there's no compelling,
her 'Tis from a Handmaid we must take a Helen.
From Peer or Bifhop 'tis no eafy thing
135 To draw the man who loves his God, or King:
Alas! I copy (or any draught would fail)
From honeft Mah'met, or plain Parfon Hale.
But grant, in public Men fometimes are shown,
A Woman's feen in private life alone:
Our bolder talents in full light difplay'd;
Your Virtues open faireft in the fhade.
Bred to difguife, in public 'tis you hide;
There, none diftinguish 'twixt your Shame or
Pride,

140

Superiors? death! and Equals? what a curfe!
But an Inferior not dependant? worse.
Offend her, and fhe knows not to forgive;
Oblige her, and fhe'll hate you while you live:
But die, and fhe'll adore you-Then the Buft
And Temple rife-then fall again to duft.
Laft night, her Lord was all that's good and great;
A Knave this morning, and his Will a Cheat.
Strange by the Means defeated of the Ends,
By Spirit robb'd of Power, by Warmth of Friends,
By Wealth of Followers! without one diftrefs 145
Sick of herself, through very selfishness!
Atoffa, curs'd with every granted prayer,
Childles with all her Children, wants an Heir.
To Heirs unknown defcends th'unguarded ftore,
Or wanders, Heaven-directed, to the Poor.

Pictures, like thefe, dear Madam, to defign,
Afks no firm hand, and no unerring line;
Some wandering touches, fome reflected light,
Some flying ftroke alone can hit them right:

150

Weakness or Delicacy; all so nice,
That each may feem a Virtue, or a Vice.

200

205

In Men we various Ruling Paffions find;
In Women, two almost divide the kind;
Thofe, only fix'd, they first or last obey,
The Love of Pleafure, and the Love of Sway. 210
That, Nature gives; and where the leffon taught
Is but to pleafe, can Pleasure feem a fault?
Experience, this; by Man's oppreffion curft,
They feek the fecond not to lose the first.