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 God 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 sturdy 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 illustrious 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.
Be but a Knave, you'll keep the World in awe,
And fear no Law;
For no Transgression is,
Where all Men do amiss.
But here methinks an antiquated Hero starts,
Surpris'd at my Discourse;
He starts and boggles like a Horse,
And damns our modern Knavish Arts.
XI.
Vain Youth, he says misguided by a Knave,
By some dull Blockhead tempted from thy rest;
The worldly Grandeur thou dost vainly crave,
Is nought but Noise and Foolishness at best.
What Man wou'd quit his Sense,
Or, the wise Dictates of right Reason's Rule,
In vain pretence
To be a rich, a gawdy Fool?
Or, quit his Honesty, so much despis'd,
And basely condescend,
To every little Knavish End;
Run headlong into every Cheat,
Attempt each Villany to make him Great.
Believe me Youth, (be better now advis'd)
Thy early Vertues will thy Temples spread, }
With lasting Lawrels 'round thy Head.
Shall flourish when the Wearers dead.
I who have always honest been, though poor,
In whom the utmost signs of Age appears,
And sink beneath the Burthen of my Years,
Cou'd never yet adore
A Knave or Blockhead, were he ne'er so Great;
Or, be like to them, to purchase an Estate.
XII.
Poor thredbare Vertue ne'er admir'd in Court,
But seeks its Refuge in an honest Mind,
There it securely dwells,
Like Anchorets in Cells,
Where no Ambition nor wild Lust resorts:
To love our Country is indeed our Pride;
We glory in an honest Action done;
When the Reward is laid aside
The Glory and the Action is our own,
We seldom find
The Good, the Just, the Brave,
Have their Reward
From Princes they did save
From dire Destruction, or a poisoning Foe;
They let them go
Contemn'd, disdain'd; and most regard
Those Villians sought their overthrow.
As if the Just, the Brave, the Good,
Were but a Bridge of Wood
To waft to great Preferments o'er,
Those, who were our foes before,
And then be tumbl'd down like useless Logs,
While those, who just pass'd o'er,
And the obliging Bridge shou'd thank,
Do scornfully stand grinning on the Bank,
To see the venerable Ruines float
Adrift upon the Stream,
Contemn'd by them,
Who give the Childrens Bread unto the Dogs;
In vain, says he, we've fought——
But at this Word
He fiercely look'd, and then he grasp'd his Sword.
XIII.