Men, fome to Bulinefs, fome to Pleasure take; 215 Referve with Frankness, Art with Truth ally'd, But every Woman is at heart a Rake: Men, fome to Quiet, fome to public Strife; But every Lady would be Queen for Life.
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Beauties, like Tyrants, old and friendless grown,
Yet hate repofe, and dread to be alone,
Worn-out in public, weary every eye,
Nor leave one figh behind them when they die. 230
Pleasures, the fex, as children birds, purfue,
Still out of reach, yet never out of view;
Sure, if they catch, to fpoil the toy at most,
To covet flying, and regret when loft:
At laft, to follies Youth could fcarce defend, 235
It grows their Age's prudence to pretend;
Afham'd to own they gave delight before,
Reduc'd to feign it, when they give no more:
As Hags hold Sabbaths, lefs for joy than spight,
So these their merry, miferable Night;
Still round and round the Ghosts of Beauty glide,
Aud haunt the places where their honour died.
See how the World its Veterans rewards!
A Youth of Frolicks, an Old-age of Cards;
Fair to no purpofe, artful to no end;
Young without Lovers, old without a Friend;
A Fop their Paffion, but their Prize a Sot;
Alive ridiculous; and dead, forgot!
Ah! Friend! to dazzle let the Vain defign;
To raise the thought, and touch the heart be thine!
That Charm fhall grow, while what fatigues the
King,
Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing:
So when the Sun's broad beam has tir'd the
All mild afcends the Moon's more fober light,
Serene in Virgin Modesty she shires,
And unobferv'd the glaring orb declines.
Courage with Softness, Modefty with Pride;
Fix'd Principles, with Fancy ever new;
Shakes all together, and produces-You.
Be this a Woman's Fame! with this unbleft,
Toafts live a fcorn, and Queens may die a jeft.
This Phoebus promis'd (I forget the year)
When there blue eyes first open'd on the sphere;
Afcendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with care,
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250 That it is known to few, moft falling into one of the extremes, Avarice or Profufion, ver. 1, &c. The Point difcuffed, whether the invention of Money has been more commodious or pernicious to Mankind, ver. 21 to 77. That Riches, either to the Avaricious or the Prodigal, cannot afford Happiness, scarcely Neceffaries, ver. 89 to 160. That Avarice is an abfolute Frenzy, without an End or Purpose, ver. 113, & 152. Conjectures about the Motives of Avaricious men, ver. 121 to 153. That' the conduct of men, with respect to Riches, can only be accounted for by the Order of Providence, which works the general Good out of Extremes, and brings all to its great End by perpetual Revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a Mifer acts upon Principles which appear to bim reafonable, ver. 179. How a Prodigal does the fame, ver. 199. The due medium, and true ufe of Riches, ver. 219. The Man of Rofs, ver. 250. The fate of the Prefuse and the Covetous, in two examples; both miferable in Life and in Death, ver. 300, &c. The Story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to
Oh! bleft with Temper, whofe unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow chearful as to-day :
She, who can love a Sifter's charms, or hear
Sighs for a Daughter with unwounded ear;
She who ne'er anfwers till a Husband cools,
Or, if the rules him, never fhews fhe rules;
Charms by accepting, by submitting (ways,
Yet has her humour moft, when the obeys;
Let Fops or Fortune fly which way they will, 265
Difdains all lofs of Tickets, or Codille;
Spleen, Vapours, or Small-pox, above them all,
And Mistress of herself, though China fall.
And yet, believe me, good as well as ill,
Woman's at beft a contradiction still.
Heaven, when it ftrives to polish all it can
Its last best work, but forms a fofter Man;
Picks from each sex, to make the Favourite bleft,
Your love of Pleasure, our defire of Reft:
Blends, in exception to all general rules,
Your tafte of Follies, with our fcorn of Fools:
THO fhall decide, when Doctors difagrec, And foundest Cafuifis doubt, like you and me?
275 You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given, That Man was made the standing jeft of Heaven:
And Gold but fent to eep the Fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.
5 Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, 65
But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the shining mischief under ground:
But when, by Man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival too, its Sire, the Sun,
Then careful Heaven fupply'd two forts of Men,
To fquander Thefe, and Thofe to hide again.
Like Doctors thus, when much difpute has paft,
Could he himself have fent it to the dogs?
His Grace will game: to White's a Bull be led,
With fpurning heels and with a butting head.
10 To White's be carry'd as to ancient games,
Fair Courfers, Vafes, and alluring Dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bear home fix Whores, and make his Lady weep?
Or foft Adonis, so perfum'd and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of fwine?
15 Oh filthy check on all induftrious skill,
To fpoil the nation's last great trade, Quadrille?
Since then, my Lord, on fuch a World we fall,
What fay you? B. Say? Why take it, Gold and
all.
We find our tenets just the fame at last.
Both fairly owning, Riches, in effect,
No grace of Heaven or token of th' Elect;
Given to the Fool, the Mad, the Vain, the Evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil. 20
B. What Nature wants, commodious Gold be-
stows;
"Tis thus we eat the bread another fows.
P. But how unequal it bestows, observe;
'Tis thus we riot, while, who fow it, starve:
What Nature wants (a phrafe I must distrust)
Extends to Luxury, extends to Lust::
Ufeful, I grant, it ferves what Life requires,
But dreadful too, the dark Affaffin hires.
B. Trade it may help, Society extend:
P. What Riches give us, let us then enquire?
Meat, Fire, and Cloaths. B. What more? P. Meat,
Cloaths, and Fire.
80
Is this too little? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
Alas! 'tis more than (all his vifions past)
25 Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at laft!
What can they give? to dying Hopkins, Heirs; 85
To Chartres, Vigour; Japhet, Nofe and Ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below;
P. But lures the Pirate, and corrupts the Friend. Or heal, old Narfes, thy obscener ail,
30 With all th' embroidery plaister'd at thy tail?
They might (were Harpax not too wife to spend)
Give Harpax felf the bleffing of a Friend;
Or find fome Doctor that would fave the life
Of wretched Shylock, fpite of Shylock's Wife:
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a College, or a Cat.
To fome, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
F' enrich a Baftard, or a Son they hate.
B. It raife Armies in a Nation's aid':
P. But bribes a Senate, and the Land 's betray'd.
In vain may Heroes fight, and Patriots rave,
If fecret Gold fap on from knave to knave.
Once, we confefs, beneath the Patriot's cloak, 35
From the crack'd bag the dropping Guinea spoke,
And jingling down the back-tairs, told the crew,
"Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Bleft Paper-credit! last and best supply!
That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly !
Gold, imp'd by thee, can compafs hardeft things,
Can pocket States, can fetch or carry Kings;
A fingle leaf thail waft an Army o'er,
Or fhip-off Senates to fome diftant Shore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, fcatter to and fro
Our fates and fortunes, as the wind fhall blow:
Pregnant with thousands flits the Scrap unfeen,
And filent felis a King, or buys a Queen.
Perhaps you think the Poor might have their part;
Bond danins the Poor, and hates them from his heart:
The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule That every man in want is knave or fool: 45" God cannot love fays Blunt, with tearlefs eyes) "The wretch he starves"-and piously denies : But the good Rishop, with a meeker air, Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care. Yet to be just to these poor men of pelf, 50 Each does but hate his neighbour as himself: Damn'd to the Mines, an equal fate betides The Slave that digs it, and the Slave that hides 110 B. Who fuffers thus, mere Charity should own, Muft act on motives powerful, though unknown. P. Some War, fome Plague, or Famine, they foresee,
Oh! that fuch bulky Bribes as all might fee,
Still, as of old, incumber'd Villainy!
Could France or Rome divert our brave defigns,
With all their brandies, or with all their wines?
What could they more than Knights and. 'Squiresj
confound,
Or water all the Quorum ten miles round?
A ftatefiman's flumbers how this fpeech
fpoil!
would
55 Some Revelation hid from you and me.
Why Shylock wants a meal, the caufe is found;
"Sir, Spain has fent a thousand jars of oil;
"Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door;
"A hundred oxen at your levee roar."
Poor Ava-ice one torment more would find;
Nor could Profufion fquander all in kind.
Aftride his cheefe Sir Morgan might we meet ;
And Worldly crying coals from street to street,
Whom, with a wig fo wild, and mien fo maz'd,
Pity miftakes for fome poor tradesman craz'd,
He thinks a Loaf will rife to fifty pound.
What made Directors cheat in South-fea year?
60 To live on Venifon when it fold fo dear.
Afk you why Phryne the whole Auction buys?
Phryne forefees a general Excife.
Why the and Sappho raise that monftrous fum?
Alas, they fear a man will cost a plum.
Wife Peter fees the World's refpe&t for Gold,
And therefore hopes this Nation may be fold.
Glorious Ambition! Peter, fwell thy ftore,
And be what Rome's great Didius was before.
The Crown of Poland, venal twice an age,
To just three millions ftinted modest Gage.
But nobler fcenes, Maria's dreams unfoid,
Hereditary Realms, and worlds of Gold.
Congenial fouls; whofe life one Avarice joins,
And one fate buries in th' Afturian Mines.
Much injur'd Blunt! why bears he Britain's
hate?
If Cotta liv'd on pulfe, it was no more
Than Bramins, Saints, and Sages did before;
To cram the rich, was prodigal expence,
And who would take the Poor from Providence?
Like fome lone Chartreux ftands the good old
Silence without, and fafts within the wall;
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor found,
No noontide bell invites the country round:,
Tenants with fighs the fmoaklefs towers furvey,
And turn th' unwilling steeds another way:
Benighted wanderers, the foreft o'er,'
Curfe the fav'd candie, and unopening door;
135 While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate, 195
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.
A wizard told him in these words our fate:
"At length Corruption, like a general flood,
"(So long by watchful Minifters withstood)
"Shall deluge all; and Avarice, creeping on,
Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the Sun;
"Statefman and Patriot ply alike the Stocks,
"Peerefs and Butler fhare alike the Box,
"And Judges job, and Bishops bite the town,
"And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown.
"See Britain funk in lucre's fordid charms,
"And France reveng'd of ANNE's and EDWARD's
'Twas no Court-badge, great Scrivener, fir'd thy
brain,
Nor lordly Luxury, nor City Gain :
No, 'twas thy righteous end, afham'd to fee
Senates degenerate, Patriots difagree,
And nobly wishing Party-rage to ceafe,
To buy both fides, and give thy Country
Not fo his Son: he mark'd this overfight,
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right.
(For what to fhun, will no great knowledge need ;
But what to follow, is a task indeed.)
Yet fure, of qualities deferving praife,
More go to ruin Fortunes, than to raise.
What flaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious 'Squire, and deep Divine !
Yet no mean motives this profufion draws,
His oxen perish in his country's caufe ;
Tis GEORGE and LIBERTY that crowns the
cup,
And Zeal for that great House which eats him up.
The woods recede around the naked feat,
The Sylvans groan-no matter-for the Fleet: 210
peace. Next goes his Wool-to clothe our valiant bands:
150 Latt, for his Country's love, he fells his Lands.
To town he comes, completes the nation's hope,
And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a
"All this is madness," cries a fober sage: But who, my friend, has reafon in his rage? "The Ruling Paffion, be it what it will, "The Ruling Paffion conquers reason still." Lefs mad the wildeft whimsey we can frame, Than even that Paffion, if it has no Aim; For though fuch motives Folly you may call, The Folly's greater to have none at all. Hear then the truth: "Tis Heaven each Paffion "fends,
And fhall not Britain now reward his toils,
155 Britain, that pays her Patriots with her Spoils ?
In vain at Court the Bankrupt pleads his caufe,
His thanklefs Country leaves him to her Laws.
The Senfe to value Riches, with the Art
T' enjoy them, and the Virtue to impart,
Not meanly, or ambitiously purfu'd,
160 Not funk by floth, not rais'd by fervitude;
To balance Fortune by a juft expence,
Join with Economy, Magnificence;
With Splendor, Charity; with Plenty, Health; 225
Oh teach us, Bathurft! yet unfpoil'd by wealth!
That fecret rare, between th' extremes to move
Of mad Good-nature, and of mean Self-love.
"And different men directs to different ends.
"Extremes in Nature equal good produce,
"Extremes in Man concur to general ufe."
Afk we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids feed-time, harvest, equal courfe maintain, 165
Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
Builds Life on Death, on Change Duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
B. To Worth or Want well-weigh'd, be Bounty
given,.
And eafe, or emulate, the care of Heaven;
170 (Whofe measure full o'erflows on human race)
Mend Fortune's fault, and juftify her grace.
Wealth in the grofs is death, but life diffus'd;
As poifon heals, in just proportion us'd:
In heaps, like Ambergris, a stink it lies,
But well difpers'd, is incenfe to the skies.
Riches, like infects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their feafon fly.
Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward fteward for the Poor;
This year a Refervoir, to keep and spare;
The next a Fountain, fpouting through his Heir,
In lavish ftreams to quench a Country's thirst, 175
And men and dogs fall drink him till they burst.
Old Cotta fham'd his fortune and his birth,
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:
What though (the use of barbarous fpits forgot)
His kitchen vied in coolness with his grot?
His court with nettles, moats with creffes flor'd,
With foups unbought and fallads blefs'd his board?
P. Who flarves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats ? The Wretch that trufts them, and the Rogue that cheats.
Is there a Lord, who knows a chearful noon
Without a Fiddler, Flatterer, or Buffoon?
Whofe table, Wit, or modest Merit fhare,
Un-elbow'd by a Gamefter, Pimp, or Player?
Who copies Your's, or Oxford's better part,
To cafe th' opprefs'd, and raise the finking heart?
Where'er he thines, oh Fortune, gild the fcene,
And Angels guard him in the golden Mean !
There, English bounty yet a while may ftand,
And Honour linger ere it leaves the land.
But all our praises why fhould Lords engrofs?
Rife honeft Mufe! and fing the MAN of Ross: 250
Pleas'd Vaga echoes through her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountain's fultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns toft,
Or in proud falls magnificently loft,
But clear and artlefs, pouring through the plain
Health to the fick, and folace to the fwain.
Whole Causeway parts the vale with fhady rows?
Whose feats the weary Traveller repose?
Who taught that heaven-directed fpire to rife?
"The MAN of Ross," each lifping babe replies.
Behold the Market-place with poor o'erfpread !
The MAN of Ross divides the weekly bread:
He feeds yon Alms-house, neat, but void of ftate,
265
The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow ftrove with dirty red,
Great Villers lies-alas! how chang'd from him, 30
That life of Pleafure, and that foul of whim!
Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove,
The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and Love;
Of mimick Statesmen, and their merry King.
Or just as gay, at Council, in a ring
No Wit to flatter, left of all his ftore!
No Fool to laugh at, which he valued more.
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends,
And Fame, this lord of useless thousands ends.
His Grace's fate fage Cutler could forefee, 315
And well (he thought) advis'd him, "Live like me!"
As well his Grace reply'd "Like you, Sir John?
"That I can do, when all I have is gone."
Refolve me, Reason, which of these are worfe,
Want with a full, or with an empty purse?
Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confefs'd,
Arife and tell me, was thy death more bless'd?
Cutler faw tenants break, and houfes fall,
For very want; he could not build a wall.
His only daughter in a stranger's power,
For very want; he could not pay a dower.
A few grey hairs his reverend temples crown'd,
Twas very want that fold them for two pound.
What! even deny'd a cordial at his end,
Banish'd the Doctor, and expell'd the friend;
What but a want, which you perhaps think mad,
330
270 Yet numbers feel, the want of what he had!
Cutler and Brutus dying, both exclaim,
Where Age and Want fit fmiling at the gate;
Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans bleft,
The young who labour, and the old who reft.
Is any fick? the MAN of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes, and gives,
Is there a variance? enter but his door,
Balk'd are the courts, and conteft is no more,
Defpairing Quacks with curfes fled the place,
And vile Attorneys, now an useless race.
B. Thrice happy man! enabled to purfue
What all fo wifh, but want the power to do!
Oh fay, what fums that generous hand supply?
What mines to fwell that boundiefs charity?
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Virtue! and Wealth! what are ye but à name!"
Say, for fuch worth are other worlds prepar'd? 335
Or are they both, in this, their own reward?
275 A knotty point to which we now proceed.
But you are tir'd-I'll tell a tale-B. Agreed.
P. Where London's column, pointing to the skies
Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies;
There dwelt a Citizen of fober fame,
P. Of Debts and Taxes, Wife and Children clear,
This man poffeft-five hundred pounds a year. 280 A plain good man, and Balaam was his name;
Blufh, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw Religious, punctual, frugal, and fo forth;
your blaze!
Ye little Stars! hide your diminish'd rays.
B. And what? no monument, infeription, ftone?
His race, his form, his name almost unknown? 285
P. Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame,
Will never mark the marble with his Name:
Go, fearch it there, were to be born and die,
Of rich and poor makes all the hiftory;
Enough, that Virtue fill'd the space between';
Prov'd by the ends of being, to have been.
When Hopkins dies, a thoufand lights attend
The wretch who living fav'd a candle's end;
Shouldering God's altar a vile image stands,
Belies his features, nay extends his hands;
That live long wig, which Gorgon's felf might own,
295
Eternal buckle takes in Parian ftone.
Behold what bleffings Wealth to life can lend !
And fee, what comfort it affords our end.
In the worst inn's worst room, with mát half-hung,
The floors of plaifter, and the walls of dung,
On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw,
With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw,
His word would pafs for more than he was worth.
One folid difh his week-day meal affords,
An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's:
Conftant at Church, and Change; his gains were
fure,
His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.
The Devil was piqued fuch faintfhip to behold, And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old; 350 But Satan now is wifer than of yore,
And tempts by making rich, not making poor.
Rouz'd by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds
sweep
The furge, and plunge his Father in the deep;
Then full againft his Cornish lands they roar, 335
And two rich shipwrecks blefs the lucky fhore.
Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks,
He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes:
"Live like yourself," was foon my Lady's word;
And lo! two puddings fmoak'd upon the board. 360
Afleep and naked as an Indian lay,
An honeft factor ftole a Gem away:
He pledg'd it to the knight, the knight had wit,
So kept the Diamond, and the rogue was bit.
Some fcruple rofe, but thus he eas'd his thought, 365|
"I'll now give fixpence where I gave a groat;
"Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice-
"And am fo clear too of all other vice."
The Tempter faw his time: the work he ply'd ;
Stocks and Subscriptions pour on every side,
Till all the Dæmon makes his full Defcent
In one abundant fhower of Cent per Cent,
Sinks deep within him, and poffeffes whole,
Then dubs Director, and secures his foul.
Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
Afcribes his gettings to his parts and merit;
What late he call'd a Bleffing, now was Wit,
And God's good Providence, a lucky Hit.
Things change their titles, as our manners turn:
His Compting-house employ'd the Sunday morn:
Seldom at Church, ('twas fuch a bufy life)
But duly fent his family and wife.
There (fo the Devil ordain'd) one Chriflmas-tide
My good old Lady catch'd a cold, and dy'd.
A Nymph of Quality admires our Knight;
He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite:
Leaves the dull Cits, and joins (to please the Fair)
The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air:
First, for his Son a gay Commiffion buys,
Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies: 399
His Daughter flaunts a Viscount's tawdry wife;
She bears a Coronet and P-x for life.
In Britain's Senate he a feat obtains,
And one more Penfioner St. Stephen gains.
My Lady falls to play. fo bad her chance,
He must repair it; takes a bribe trom France;
The House impeach him, Coningsby harangues;
The Court-forfake him, and Sir Balaam hangs:
Wife, fon, and daughter, Satan! are thy own,
His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the Crown:
The Devil and the King divide the prize,
And fad Sir Balaam curfes God and dies.
mere Luxury and Elegance. Inflanced in Architecture and Gardening, where all must be adapted to the Genius and Ufe of the Place, and the Beauties not forced into it, but refulting from it, ver. 50. How men are disappointed in their most expenfive undertakings, fon want of this true Foundation, without which nothing can please long, if at all; and the best Examples and rules will be but perverted into fomething burthenfome and ridiculous, ver. 65, &c. to 92. A defcription of the falfe Tafle of Magnificence; the firft grand error of which is, to imagina that Greatness confifts in the Size and Dimenfion, inftead of the Proportion and Harmony of the whole, ver. 97. and the fecond, either in joining together Parts incoherent, or too minutely resembling, or in the Repetition of the fame too frequently, ver. 105, &c. A word or two of falfe Tafte in Books, in Mufic, and in Painting, even in Preaching and Prayer and lafly in Entertainments, ver. 133, &c. Yet PROVIDENCE is juftified in giving Wealth to be fquandered in this manner, fince it is difperfed to the Poor and Laboricus part of mankind, ver. 169. [re curring to what is laid down in the firft Book, Ep. and in the Efifile preceding this, ver. 159, &c.] What are the proper objects of Magnificence, and a proper field for the Extenfe of Great Men, ver. 177. &c. and finally the Great and Public Works which become a Prince, ver. 191, to the end.
IS ftrange, the Mifer should his cares employ
To gain thofe riches he can ne'er enjoy:
Is it lefs ftrange, the Prodigal fhould waite
His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste ?
Not for himfelf he fees, or hears, or eats;
Artifts must choose his Pictures, Music, Meats:
He buys for Topham Drawings and Defigns ;
For Pembroke Statues, dirty Gods, and Coins;
Rare Monkish Manuscripts for Hearne alone,
And Books for Mead, and Butterflies for Sloane. re
Think we all thefe are for himself? no more
Than his fine Wife, alas! or finer Whore.
For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
Only to fhew, how many tastes he wanted.
What brought Sir Vifto's ill-got Wealth to waste ?
15
Some Dæmon whisper'd, "Vifto! have a Tafte.".
Heaven vifits with a Taste the wealthy Fool,
And needs no Rod but Ripley with a Rule.
See! fportive Fate to punith awkward pride,
Bids Bubo build, and fends him fuch a Guide:
RICHARD BOYLE EARL OF BURLINGTON. A standing fermon, at each year's expenfe,
That never Coxcomb reach'd Magnificence!
You show us, Rome was glorious, not profufe, And pompous buildings once were things of Use. Yet fhall (my Lord) your just, your noble rules 25 Fill half the land with imitating Fools; Who random drawings from your sheets shall take, The Vanity of Expenfe in People of Wealth and Qua-And of one beauty many blunders make; lity. The abufe of the word Tafle, ver. 13. That Load some vain Church with old Theatric state, the firf principle and foundation in this, as in Turn Arts of triumph to a Garden gate: every thing elfe, is Good Senfe, ver. 40. The chief Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all proof of it is to follow Nature, even in works of On fome patch'd dog-hole ek'd with ends of wall;
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