But ev’ry Lord, each gen’rous Friend implore,
And by Subscriptions meanly swell thy Store.
When to the Town by sordid Int’rest led,
Mump for a Dinner, flatter for a Bed.
Then to thy Grot retire, indulge thy Spite,
And rail at those who for Subsistence write.
Summon thy Rags, invoke thy scurril Muse,
With keenest Malice Addison abuse.
Sculking, the Scandal privately disperse,
[g] Then own in Prose the Baseness of thy Verse.