Oaths terminate, as Paul observes, all strife

Some men have surely then a peaceful life;
Whatever subject occupy discourse,

The feats of Vestris, or the naval force,
Asseveration blustering in your face
Makes contradiction such an hopeless case:
In every tale they tell, or false or true,
Well known, or such as no man ever knew,
They fix attention, heedless of your pain,
With oaths like rivets forced into the brain;
And even when sober truth prevails throughout,
They swear it till affirmance breeds a doubt.
A Persian, humble servant of the sun,
Who though devout yet bigotry had none,
Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address,
With adjurations every word impress,
Supposed the man a bishop, or at least,
God's name so much upon his lips, a priest;
Bowed at the close with all his graceful airs,
And begged an interest in his frequent prayers.

Go, quit the rank to which ye stood preferred, Henceforth associate in one common herd;

Religion, virtue, reason, common sense,
Pronounce your human form a false pretence;

A mere disguise, in which a devil lurks,
Who yet betrays his secret by his works.

Ye powers who rule the tongue, if such there are,
And make colloquial happiness your care,
Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate,
A duel in the form of a debate.

The clash of arguments and jar of words,
Worse than the mortal brunt of rival swords,
Decide no question with their tedious length,
For opposition gives opinion strength:
Divert the champions prodigal of breath,
And put the peaceably-disposed to death.
Oh thwart me not, sir Soph, at every turn,
Nor carp at every flaw you may discern;
Though syllogisms hang not upon my tongue,
I am not surely always in the wrong;
'Tis hard if all is false that I advance,

A fool must now and then be right by chance,
Not that all freedom of dissent I blame;
No-there I grant the privilege I claim.

A disputable point is no man's ground;

Rove where you please, 'tis common all around.
Discourse may want an animated-No,

To brush the surface and to make it flow;
But still remember, if you mean to please,
To press your point with modesty and ease.
The mark, at which my juster aim I take,
Is contradiction for its own dear sake.

Set your opinion at whatever pitch,

Knots and impediments make something hitch;
Adopt his own, 'tis equally in vain,
Your thread of argument is snapt again;

The wrangler, rather than accord with you,
Will judge himself deceived, and prove it too.
Vociferated logic kills me quite,

A noisy man is always in the right.

I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair,
Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare,
And, when I hope his blunders are all out,
Reply discreetly-To be sure-no doubt!
DUBIUS is such a scrupulous good man-
Yes-you may catch him tripping if you can,

He would not, with a peremptory tone,
Assert the nose upon his face his own;
With hesitation admirably slow,

He humbly hopes-presumes-it may be so.
His evidence, if he were called by law
To swear to some enormity he saw,

For want of prominent and just relief,

Would hang an honest man and save a thief.
Through constant dread of giving truth offence,
He ties up all his hearers in suspense;

Knows what he knows as if he knew it not,
What he remembers seems to have forgot;
His sole opinion, whatsoever befall,

Centring at last in haying none at all.

Yet, though he tease and baulk your listening ear,
He makes one useful point exceeding clear;
However ingenious on his darling theme

A sceptic in philosophy may seem,
Reduced to practice, his beloved rule
Would only prove him a consummate fool;
Useless in him alike both brain and speech,
Fate having placed all truth above his reach,

His ambiguities his total sum,

He might as well be blind, and deaf, and dumb.
Where men of judgment creep and feel their way,
The positive pronounce without dismay;

Their want of light and intellect supplied
By sparks absurdity strikes out of pride:
Without the means of knowing right from wrong,
They always are decisive, clear and strong;
Where others toil with philosophic force,
Their nimble nonsense takes a shorter course;
Flings at your head conviction in the lump,
And gains remote conclusions at a jump:
Their own defect, invisible to them,

Seen in another, they at once condemn;
And, though self-idolized in every case,
Hate their own likeness in a brother's face.
The cause is plain, and not to be denied,
The proud are always most provoked by pride;
Few competitions but engender spite,
And those the most, where neither has a right.
The point of honour has been deemed of use,
To teach good manners, and to curb abuse;