Apt or unapt in each Quotation,
Were infults on a Congregation,
Who could not understand one word
Of all the learned ftuff they heard;
That fomething more than preaching fin
Should go to make a sound divine;
That Church and Pray'r, and holy Sund
Were no excufe for finful Monday;
That pious doctrine, pious Life,
Should both make one, as Man and Wi
Thinking in this uncommon Mode,
So out of all the priestly road,
What Man alive can e'er fuppofe,
Who marks the way PREFERMENT goes
That she should ever find her way
To this poor Curate's house of clay?
Such was the Prieft, fo ftrangely wife He could not bow How fhould He ri Learned He was, and deeply read; -But what of that?- not duly bred. For he had fuck'd no grammar rules
From Royal founts, or Public schools,
Nor gain'd a fingle Corn of Knowledge
From that vaft Granarya College.
A Granary, which food fupplies
To vermin of uncommon Size.
Aye, now indeed the Matter's clear,
There is a mighty error here.
A public school's the place alone,
Where Talents may be duly known.
It has, no doubt, its imperfections,
But then, fuch Friendships! such connections!
The Parent, who has form'd his Plan,
And in his Child confider'd Man,
What is his grand and golden Rule,
"Make your connections, Child, at School.
"Mix with your Equals, fly inferiors,
"But follow closely your Superiors,
"On Them your ev'ry Hope depends,
"Be prudent, Tom, get ufeful Friends;
"And therefore like a spider wait,
"And fpin your Web about the great,
"If my Lord's Genius wants fupplies,
Why You must make his Exercife, "Let the young Marquis take your Place, "And bear a whipping for his Grace. "Suppofe (fuch Things may happen once) "The Nobles Wits, and You the Dunce,
"Your Master scarcely holds it fin, "He chucks his Lordship on the Chin, "And would not for the World rebuke,
Beyond a pat, the fchool-boy Duke. "The Paftor there, of
"With smiles eternal in his Face,
"With dimpling cheek, and fnowy har "That fhames the whiteness of his ban "Whose mincing Dialect abounds "In Hums and Hahs, and half-form'd "Whofe Elocution, fine and chafte, "Lays his commainds with Judgment va "And left the Company should hear, "Whispers his Nothings in your Ear, "Think you 'twas Zeal, or Virtue's Ca "That placed the fmirking Doctor there "No-'twas Connections form'd at Sc "With fome rich Wit, or noble Fool, "Obfequious Flattery, and Attendance "A wilful, ufeful, bafe dependance; "A fupple bowing of the Knees "To any human God you pleafe.
(For true good-breeding's fo polite, ""Twould call the very Devil white)
'Twas watching others fhifting Will, "And veering to and fro with Skill : "These were the means that made him rife, "Mind your connections, and be wife."
Methinks I hear fon Tom reply, I'll be a Bishop by and by.
Connections at a public School
Will often serve a wealthy Fool,
By lending him a letter'd Knave
To bring him Credit, or to fave;
And Knavery gets a profit real,
By giving parts and worth ideal.
The child that marks this flavish Plan,
Will make his Fortune when a Man.
While honest Wit's ingenuous Merit
Enjoys his pittance, and his Spirit.
The Strength of public Education
Is quick'ning Parts by EMULATION;
And Emulation will create
In narrow minds a jealous ftate,
Which ftifled for a courfe of Years,
From want of Skill or mutual Fears,
Breaks out in manhood with a zeal,
Which none but rival Wits can feel.
For when good people Wits commence,
They lofe all other kind of fense;
(The maxim makes you smile, I see,
Retort it when you please on me)
One writer always hates another,
As Emperors would kill a brother,
Or Empress Queen to rule alone,
Pluck down a Husband from the throne.
When tir'd of Friendship and alliance,
Each fide springs forward to defiance,
Inveterate Hate and Refolution,
Faggot and Fire and Perfecution,
Is all their aim, and all their Cry,
Though neither fide can tell you why.
To it they run like valiant Men,
And flash about them with their Pen.
What Inkshed springs from Altercation!
What loppings off of Reputation!
You might as foon hush stormy Weather,
And bring the North and South together,
As reconcile your letter'd foes,
Who come to all things but dry blows.
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