P.SHUT,

HUT, fhut the door, good John! fatigu'd I said,'
Tye up the knocker, fay I'm fick, I'm dead,

The Dog-ftar rages! nay 'tis past a doubt,
All Bedlam, or Parnaffus, is let out:
Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
What walls can guard me, or what fhades can hide?
They pierce my thickets, thro' my Grot they glide,
By land, by water, they renew the charge,

They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. 10
No place is facred, nor the Church is free,

VER. I. Shut, fhut the door, good John!) John Searl, his old and faithful fervant: whom he has remembered under that character, in his Will.

VER. 12. Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.) The beauty of this line arifes from the figurative terms of the predis cate alluding to the subject. A fecret, in elegant expreffion, which our Author often practised.

AS

Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme, Happy to catch me, juft at Dinner - time.

Is there a Parfon, much bemus'd in beer, IS A maudlin Poetefs, a rhyming Peer,

A Clerk, foredoom'd his father's foul to cross,
Who pens a Stanza, when he should engross ?
Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, fcrawls
With defp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls?
All fly to TwIT'NAM, and in humble ftrain
Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
Arthur, whofe giddy son neglects the Laws,
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the caufe:
Poor Cornus fees his frantic wife elope,

And curfes Wit, and Poetry, and Pope.

21

25

Friend to my Life! (which did not you prolong,

The world had wanted many an idle fong)
What Drop or Noftrum can this plague remove?

VARIATIONS.

After v. 20. in the MS.

Is there a Bard in durance? turn them free,

With all their brandifh'd reams they run to me:

Is there a Prentice, having feen two plays,

Who would do fomething in his Semptress' praise

VER. 29. in the Ift Ed.

Dear Doctor, tell me, is not this a curfe?

Say, is their anger, or their, friendship worse?

NOTES.

VER. 13. Mint.) A place to which infolvent debtors retired, to enjoy an illegal protection, which they were there fuffered to afford one another, from the perfecution of their creditors.

VER. 23. Arthur,) Arthur Moore, Efq.

Or which inuft end me, a Fool's wrath or love?
A dire dilemma! either way I'm fped.

39

If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead.
Seiz'd and ty'd down to judge, how wretched I?
Who can't be filent, and who will not Tye;
To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace, 35
And to be grave, exceeds all Pow'r of face.
I fit with fad civility, I read

With honeft anguish, and an aching head;
And drop at laft, but in unwilling ears,
This faving counsel,,,Keep your piece nine years.,

39

Nine years! cries he, who high in Drury-lane, Lull'd by foft Zephyrs thro' the broken pane, Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends,, Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends:

The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it, 49. ,,I'm all fubmiffion, what you'd have it, make it.,

Three things another's modeft wishes bound, My Friendship, and a Prologue, and ten pound.

NOTES

VER, 33. Seix'd and ty'd down to judge,) Alluding to the frene in the Plain-Dealer, where Oldfox gags, and ties down the Widow, to hear his well-pen'd stanzase

VER. 38. honeft anguish,), i. c. undissembled.

Ibid. an aching head;) Alluding to the diforder he was then fo conftantly afflicted with.

VER. 43. Rhymes ere he wakes,) A pleasant allufion to those Words of Milton.

F

Dictates to me flumb'ring, or inspires

Eafy my unpremeditated Verse.

Pitholeon fends to me: ,,You know his Grace,

,,I want a Patron; afk him for a Place.,,'

Pitholeon libell'd me -,, but here's a letter

,,informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better. : ,,Dare you refufe him? Curl invites to dine,,

,,He'll write a Journal, or he'll turn Divine.,, Blefs me a packet. 'Tis a ftranger fues, 55 ,,A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Mufe.,, If I diflike it,,,Furies, death and rage! If I approve, Commend it to the Stage.,,. There (thank my ftars) my whole commiffion ends, The Play'rs and I are, luckily, no friends. Fir'd that the house reject him, 'Sdeath I'll print it, ,,And fhame the fools Your int'reft, Sir, with Lintot.,

دو

60

65

Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much:
,,Not, Sir, if you revife it, and retouch.,,
All my demurs but double his attacks;
At laft he whispers,,,Do; and we go fnacks.,,
Glad of a quarrel, ftrait I clap the door,
Sir, let me fee; your works and you no more.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 53. in the MS.

If you' refuse, he goes, as fates incline.
To plague Sir Robert, or to turn Divine.

VER. 60. in the former Edd.

Cibber and I are luckily no friends.

NOTES.

VER. 49. Pitholeon) The name taken from a foolish Poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol. in Horat. 1. i. Dr. Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon libelled Cæfar alfo. See notes on lor. Sat. 10. 1. i.

P.

'Tis fung, when Midas Ears began to spring, (Midas, a facred perfon and a King)

His very Minifter who spy'd them first,

76

(Some fy his Queen) was forc'd to speak, or burst.
And is not mine, my friend, a forer cafe,
When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face?
A. Good friend forbear! you deal in dang'rous things.
I'd never name Queens, Minifters, or Kings;
Keep clofe to Ears, and those let affes prick,"
'Tis nothingP. Nothing? if they bite and kick?
Out with it, DUNCIAD! let the fecret pals,
That fecret to each fool, that he's an Afs:
The truth once told (and wherefore fhould we lie?)
The queen of Midas flept, and fo

may

You think this cruel? take it for a rule,

No creature finarts fo little as a fool.

RO

Ler peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break, 85
Thou unconcern'd can't hear the mighty crack :
Pit, box, and gallry in convulfions hurl'd,

NOTES.

VER. 69. 'Tis sung, when Midas &c.) The Poet mean fung by Perfius; and the words alluded to area is

The tranfition is fine, but obfcure: for he has here imitated the manner of that myfterious writer, as well as taken up his image. Our Author had been hitherto complaining of the folly and importunity of indigent Scriblers; he now infinuates the fuffered aš much of both, from Poetasters of Quality!" 199 (831

m VER. 72. Queen) The story is told, by fome, of his Barber, bur by Chaucer of his Queen.'> See Wife of Bath's Tale in Dryden's Fables.

P.

b. VER. 8o. That fecret to each fool, that he's an Afs:) i. e. that his ears (his marks of folly) are visible.