Thou must no longer deal in farce,
Nor pump to cobble wicked verse;
Until thou shalt have eased thy conscience
Of spleen, of politics, and nonsense;
And, when thou'st bid adieu to cares,
And settled Europe's grand affairs,
'Twill then, perhaps, be worth thy while
For Drury-lane to shape thy style:
"To make a pair of jolly fellows,
The son and father, join to tell us
How sons may safely disobey,
And fathers never should say nay;
By which wise conduct they grow friends
At last-and so the story ends."
When first I knew thee, Dick, thou wert
Renown'd for skill in Faustus' art;
Which made thy closet much frequented
By buxom lasses — some repented‍

"1

Their luckless choice of husbands — others,
Impatient to be like their mothers,
Received from thee profound directions
How best to settle their affections.
Thus thou, a friend to the distress'd,
Did'st in thy calling do thy best.

But now the senate (if things hit,
And thou at Stockbridge wert not bit)
Must feel thy eloquence and fire,
Approve thy schemes, thy wit admire.
Thee with immortal honors crown,
While, patriot-like, thou'lt strut and frown.
What though by enemies 'tis said,
The laurel which adorns thy head
Must one day come in competition,
By virtue of some sly petition:
Yet mum for that; hope still the best,
Nor let such cares disturb thy rest.

Methinks I hear thee loud as trumpet,
As bagpipe shrill or oyster-strumpet;
Methinks I see thee, spruce and fine,
With coat embroider'd richly shine,
And dazzle all the idle faces,

As through the hall thy worship paces:
(Though this I speak but at a venture,
Supposing thou hast tick with Hunter;)
Methinks I see a blackguard rout
Attend thy coach, and hear them shout
In approbation of thy tongue,
Which (in their style) is purely hung.
Now! now you carry all before you!
Nor dares one Jacobite or Tory

This is said to be a plot of a comedy with which Mr. Steele had long threatened

Pretend to answer one syl-lable,
Except the matchless hero Abel.1

What though her highness and her spouse,
In Antwerp keep a frugal house,
Yet, not forgetful of a friend,
They'll soon enable thee to spend,
If to Macartney thou wilt toast,
And to his pious patron's ghost.
Now, manfully thou'lt run a tilt
"On popes, for all the blood they've spilt,
For massacres, and racks, and flames,
For lands enriched by crimson streams,
For inquisitions taught by Spain,
Of which the christian world complain."
Dick, we agree all's true thou'st said,
As that my Muse is yet a maid.
But, if I may with freedom talk,
All this is foreign to thy walk:
Thy genius has perhaps a knack
At trudging in a beaten track,
But is for state affairs as fit
As mine for polities and wit.
Then let us both in time grow wise,
Nor higher than our talents rise;

To some snug cellar let's repair,

From duns and debts, and drown our care;

Now quaff of honest ale a quart.

Now venture at a pint of port;

With which inspired, we'll club each night
Some tender sonnet to indite,

And with Tom D'Urfey, Phillips, Dennis,
Immortalise our Dolls and Jennys.

HORACE, BOOK I. EP. V.

JOHN DENNIS, THE SHELTERING POET'S INVITATION TO RICHARD STEELE, THE SECLUDED PARTY-WRITER AND MEMBER, TO COME AND LIVE WITH HIM IN THE MINT.

1

1714.

Fit to be bound with THE CRISIS.

Ir thou canst lay aside a spendthrift's air,
And condescend to feed on homely fare,
Such as we minters, with ragouts unstored,
Will, in defiance of the law, afford:

Quit thy patrols with Toby's Christmas-box,
And come to me at The Two Fighting Cocks;

1 Abel Roper, a Tory bookseller.

"The duke and duchess of Marlborough then resided at Antwerp.

General Macartney, second to lord Mohun in the fatal duel with the duke of

Thou must no longer deal in farce,
Nor pump to cobble wicked verse;
Until thou shalt have eased thy conscience
Of spleen, of politics, and nonsense;
And, when thou'st bid adieu to cares,
And settled Europe's grand affairs,
'Twill then, perhaps, be worth thy while
For Drury-lane to shape thy style:
"To make a pair of jolly fellows,
The son and father, join to tell us
How sons may safely disobey,

And fathers never should say nay;
By which wise conduct they grow friends
At last-and so the story ends."1
When first I knew thee, Dick, thou wert
Renown'd for skill in Faustus' art;
Which made thy closet much frequented
By buxom lasses-some repented

Their luckless choice of husbands — others,
Impatient to be like their mothers,
Received from thee profound directions
How best to settle their affections.
Thus thou, a friend to the distress'd,
Did'st in thy calling do thy best.

But now the senate (if things hit,
And thou at Stockbridge wert not bit)
Must feel thy eloquence and fire,
Approve thy schemes, thy wit admire.
Thee with immortal honors crown,
While, patriot-like, thou'lt strut and frown.
What though by enemies 'tis said,
The laurel which adorns thy head
Must one day come in competition,
By virtue of some sly petition:
Yet mum for that; hope still the best,
Nor let such cares disturb thy rest.

Methinks I hear thee loud as trumpet,
As bagpipe shrill or oyster-strumpet;
Methinks I see thee, spruce and fine,
With coat embroider'd richly shine,
And dazzle all the idle faces,

As through the hall thy worship paces:
(Though this I speak but at a venture,
Supposing thou hast tick with Hunter;)
Methinks I see a blackguard rout
Attend thy coach, and hear them shout
In approbation of thy tongue,
Which (in their style) is purely hung.
Now! now you carry all before you!
Nor dares one Jacobite or Tory

'This is said to be a plot of a comedy with which Mr. Steele had long threatened

Pretend to answer one syl-lable,
Except the matchless hero Abel.1

2

What though her highness and her spouse,
In Antwerp keep a frugal house,
Yet, not forgetful of a friend,

They'll soon enable thee to spend,
If to Macartney thou wilt toast,
And to his pious patron's ghost.
Now, manfully thou'lt run a tilt

"On popes, for all the blood they've spilt,
For massacres, and racks, and flames,
For lands enriched by crimson streams,
For inquisitions taught by Spain,
Of which the christian world complain."
Dick, we agree all's true thou'st said,
As that my Muse is yet a maid.
But, if I may with freedom talk,
All this is foreign to thy walk:
Thy genius has perhaps a knack
At trudging in a beaten track,
But is for state affairs as fit
As mine for polities and wit.
Then let us both in time grow wise,
Nor higher than our talents rise;

To some snug cellar let's repair,

From duns and debts, and drown our care;
Now quaff of honest ale a quart.

Now venture at a pint of port;

With which inspired, we'll club each night
Some tender sonnet to indite,

And with Tom D'Urfey, Phillips, Dennis,
Immortalise our Dolls and Jennys.

HORACE, BOOK I. EP. V.

JOHN DENNIS, THE SHELTERING POET'S INVITATION TO RICHARD STEELE, THE SECLUDED PARTY-WRITER AND MEMBER, TO COME AND LIVE WITH HIM IN THE MINT.

1714.

Fit to be bound with THE CRISIS.

Ir thou canst lay aside a spendthrift's air,
And condescend to feed on homely fare,
Such as we minters, with ragouts unstored,
Will, in defiance of the law, afford:

Quit thy patrols with Toby's Christmas-box,
And come to me at The Two Fighting Cocks ;

Abel Roper, a Tory bookseller.

The duke and duchess of Marlborough then resided at Antwerp.

'General Macartney, second to lord Mohun in the fatal duel with the duke of

Since printing by subscription now is grown
The stalest, idlest cheat about the town;
And ev'n Charles Gildon, who, a papist bred,
Has an alarm against that worship spread,
Is practising those beaten paths of cruising,
And for new levies on proposals musing.

'Tis true that Bloomsbury-square's a noble place:
But what are lofty buildings in thy case!
What's a fine house embellish'd to profusion,
Where shoulder-dabbers are in execution?
Or whence its timorous tenant seldom sallies,
But apprehensive of insulting bailiffs?
This once be mindful of a friend's advice,
And cease to be improvidently nice;

Exchange the prospects that delude thy sight,

From Highgate's steep ascent and Hampstead's height, With verdant scenes, that, from St. George's-field,

More durable and safe enjoyments yield.

Here I, even I, that ne'er till now could find
Ease to my troubled and suspicious mind,
But ever was with jealousies possess'd,
Am in a state of indolence and rest;
Fearful no more of Frenchmen in disguise,
Nor looking upon strangers as on spies,
But quite divested of my former spleen,
Am unprovoked without, and calm within:
And here I'll wait thy coming till the sun
Shall its diurnal course completely run.
Think not that thou of sturdy bub shalt fail,
My landlord's cellar stock'd with beer and ale,
With every sort of malt that is in use,
And every country's generous produce.
The ready (for here christian faith is sick,
Which makes us seldom trespass upon tick)
Instantly brings the choicest liquor out,
Whether we ask for home-brew'd or for stout,
For mead or cider, or, with dainties fed,
Ring for a flash or two of white or red,
Such as the drawer will not fail to swear

Was drunk by Pilkington when third time mayor.
That name, methinks, so popularly known
For opposition to the church and crown,
Might make the Lusitanian grape to pass,
And almost give a sanction to the glass;
Especially with thee, whose hasty zeal
Against the late rejected commerce bill
Made thee rise up, like an audacious elf,
To do the speaker honor, not thyself.

But if thou soar'st above the common prices,
By virtue of subscription to thy Crisis,
And nothing can go down with thee but wines