Part 3 (1/2)

His Blessings he in common grants, To Hemlock as to n.o.bler Plants; Thy Virtue thou dost circ.u.mscribe, And dost dispence Thy influence, But to the Darlings of thy Tribe, Thou Wealth and Honour dost bestow On thy triumphant _Fools_, Whilst abject Sence do's barefoot go; So weak's the Learning of the noisie Schools.

IV.

Tell me, ye Learned Sots! who spend your time In reading Books, With thoughtful Heads and meagre Looks, To Learnings Pinacle, who climb Through the wild Briers of _Philosophy_, The Thorns of harsh _Philology_, The dirty Road where _Aristotle_ went Enc.u.mber'd with a thousand _terms_ Uncouth, Unintelligible, Not by any fancy fathomable, Bringing distracted Minds to harms; The rankest _h.e.l.lebore_ cannot prevent.

Tell me, I say, ye Learn'd Sots!

Did e'r the old or new Philosophy, Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?

Tho' you may think your Notions truer, They'll ne'r advance your Lotts, To the Estate of Wise Sir _Jonathan_ the Brewer.

V.

A _Fool_! Heav'ns bless the charming Name, So much admir'd in Ages past, As long as this, and all the World shall last, Shall be the Subject of Triumphing Fame.

A _Fool_! what mighty wonders has he wrought?

What mighty Actions done?

Obey'd by all, controul'd by none; Even _Love_ its self is to its Footstool brought.

For t'other day, I met amidst the Throng A Lady wealthy, beautiful and young; _Madam_, said I, I wish you double Joy, Of a ripe Husband and a budding Boy, And with my self a sight of him you Wed, } The happy Part'ner of your Bridal Bed. } Sir, she reply'd, I him in Wedlock had; } Pointing unto an Image by her side, An odder Figure no Man e'r espy'd, Long was his Chin, and carotty his Beard, His Eyes sunk in, and high his Nose was rear'd, A nauseous ugliness possess'd the Tool, And scarce had Wit enough to be a Fool: Bless me (thought I) if Fools such fortune get, Then who (the Devil) wou'd be plagu'd with wit.

VI.

View but the Realms of _Nonsence_, see the State, The Pageant pomp attends the show, When the great G.o.d of _Dullness_ does in triumph go, How splendid and how great His num'rous Train of Blockheads do appear?

Almighty _Jove_, That governs all above, Is but a puny to this Mighty G.o.d, The bl.u.s.tring G.o.d of War, Who with one Nod Makes the Earth tremble from afar, Guarded with puissant Champions stern and bold That breath Destruction, talk of b.l.o.o.d.y Jars, Have nought but ragged Cloaths to keep off cold, And tatter'd Ensigns relicks of the Wars.

The G.o.d of _Dullness_ mounted on his Throne Beneath a Canopy Of fix'd stupidity, Prostrate his num'rous Subjects tumble down, They pay obeisance to their gloomy G.o.d, And at his Nod They act, they move, They hate, they love, They bless, they curse, they swear, For they his Creatures are, He amply does his Benefits afford, For each confirmed Blockhead is a Lord.

VII.

Then talk no more of Parts and Sence, For Riches ne'r attend the Wise, Have you to dullness no pretence, You shall to Grandeur never rise; He with a gloomy mien Divinely dull, Whose very aspect tells the World he is a Fool, Whose thicker Skull Is proof against each storm of Fate, Is Born for Glory, and he shall be Great.

Who 'ere wou'd rise, Or great Preferment get, Must nere pretend to Wit, Or be that monstrous, ill shap'd Man call'd Wise; He must not boast Of Learning's Value, or its cost; But, if he wou'd Preferment have, He must be much a _Fool_, or much a _Knave_.

VIII.

A _Knave_! the finer Creature far, Tho' of the foolish Race of _Issachar_.

As the unwieldy _Bear_ among her young Deform'd, and shapeless Cubs, Finds one more strong, Active and sprightly than the rest: Him she transforms and rubs, And licks into a better shape the Beast.

Thus do's the gloomy G.o.d of Folly do, With the insipid Race: He do's his num'rous Offspring call, } He handles one and feels his Skull; } If it be thick, he says, Be thou a Fool. } Another, if about his Face He spies a roguish Mein, a cunning Look; If there appears The hopes of Falshood in his tender Years, Good signs of Perjury And hardn'd Villany; This for his secret Councils he do's save, Lays on his Paw, and bids him, Be a _Knave_.

IX.

A _Knave_! the elder brother to the _Fool_: His vast Dominions are no less Than the whole Universe: The Lands are bounded by the Sea: The Seas the st.u.r.dy Rocks obey: The Storms do know the Limits of their Rule: Neither the Land nor Sea this Hero bind, But unconfin'd O're both he finds a way, O're both he bears Imperial sway: His gay Attendants are the Cheat, That ruines Kingdoms to be Great.

The fawning, flattring Fop, who creeps Just like a Spaniel at your Heels, To some ill.u.s.trious Knave, who sweeps Away a Kingdoms Wealth at once, And with the Publick Coin his Treasure fills; For Kingdoms work t'enrich the _Knave_ and _Dunce_.

X.

Honesty's a Garb we're mock'd in, Only wore by _Jews_ and _Turks_.

Merit is a Popish Doctrine; Men have no regard to Works.

Substantial Knavery is a Vertue will Your Coffers fill; And Altars raise, Unto your Praise.