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• But only what my station fits,

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And to be kept in my right wits,
Preserve, Almighty Providence!
Just what you gave me, Competence :
And let me in these shades compose

Something in verse as true as prose;

• Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene,

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• Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen.'

In short, I'm perfectly content,

Let me but live on this side Trent;

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Nor cross the Channel twice a year,

To spend six months with statesmen here.

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I must by all means come to town, "Tis for the service of the Crown. "Lewis, the Dean will be of use, "Send for him up, take no excuse. The toil, the danger of the seas; Great ministers ne'er think of these; Or let it cost five hundred pound, No matter where the money's found.

It is but so much more in debt,

And that they ne'er consider'd yet.

"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,

"Let my Lord know you're come to town.” I hurry me in haste away,

Not thinking it is Levee-day ;

And find his Honour in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,

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Chequer❜d

Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green :

How should I thrust myself between ?

Some

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observes me thus perplext,

And smiling, whispers to the next,

"I thought the Dean had been too proud, "To justle here among a croud."

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I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant to show

What I desire the world should know.

I get a whisper, and withdraw :

When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.

This, humbly offers me his case—
That, begs my int'rest for a place-
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.
"To-morrow my appeal comes on,
"Without your help the cause is gone".
The Duke expects my Lord and you,
About some great affair, at Two-
"Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind,
"To get my warrant quickly sign'd:

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"Consider

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Be satisfy'd, I'll do my best :-
Then presently he falls to teaze,
"You may for certain, if you please;
"I doubt not, if his Lordship knew—
"And, Mr. Dean, one word from you”-
and more,
'Tis (let me see) three years
(October next it will be four)
Since HARLEY bid me first attend,
And chose me for an humble friend;
Would take me in his coach to chat,

And question me of this and that;

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As, "What's o'clock?" And, "How's the wind?”

"Who's chariot's that we left behind ?"

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Or gravely try to read the lines

Writ underneath the country signs;

Or, "Have you nothing new to-day

"From Pope, from Parnel, or from Gay?"

Such tattle often entertains

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My Lord and me as far as Stains,

As once a week we travel down

To Windsor, and again to town,
Where all that passes, inter nos,
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross.
Yet some I know with envy swell,

Because they see me us'd so well:

"How think you of our friend the Dean? "I wonder what some people mean;

ΙΟ

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"My

"My Lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête à tête.

"What, they admire him for his jokes-
"See but the fortune of some folks!"
There flies about a strange report
Of some express arriv'd at court;
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in ev'ry street.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
"Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat?
"Or do the prints and papers lie?"

Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
"Ah Doctor, how you love to jest?
" 'Tis now no secret"-I protest
'Tis one to me" Then tell us, pray,
"When are the troops to have their pay?
And, tho' I solemnly declare

I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.

THUS in a sea of folly toss'd,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book,

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And

And there in sweet oblivion drown

Those cares that haunt the court and town.
O charming noons! and nights divine?

Or when I sup, or when I dine,

My friends above, my folks below,
Chatting and laughing all-a-row,
The beans and bacon set before 'em,
The grace-cup serv'd with all decorum:
Each willing to be pleas'd, and please,
And ev❜n the very dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things,
How this or that Italian sings,

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A neighbour's madness, or his spouse's,

Or what's in either of the houses:

But something much more our concern,

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And quite a scandal not to learn:

Which is the happier, or the wiser,
A man of merit, or miser?

Whether we ought to chuse our friends,

For their own worth, or our own ends?

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What good, or better, we may call,

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