Alexander Pope.

The works of Alexander Pope Esq. : In nine volumes, complete. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements; as they were delivered to the editor, a little before his death. Together with the commentary and notes of Mr. Warburton (Volume 4) online

. (page 1 of 18)
Online LibraryAlexander PopeThe works of Alexander Pope Esq. : In nine volumes, complete. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements; as they were delivered to the editor, a little before his death. Together with the commentary and notes of Mr. Warburton (Volume 4) → online text (page 1 of 18)
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S A T I RE S, &c.

L O N D O N,

Printed for J. and P. KNAPTON in Xudgate-ftreet.
:/. CC LJl'f""

Contents of the Fourth Volume.

PROLOGUE to the SATIRES, in an Epijlle to



The Second Book of the Satires of Horace, Sat. I. 55
The Second Book of the Satires of Horace , Sat. II. 79
The Fir/f Book of the Epi/lles of Horace, Ep. I. ID
The Fir/I Book of the Epijlle s of Horace, Ep VI. 125
The Second Boot of the Epiftles of Horace, Ep. I. 145
The Second Book of the Epiftles of Horace, Ep. II. 203

SATIRES of Dr. JOHN DONNE, Dean of St.

Paul's, verftfad.




EPILOGUE to the Satires,


On receiving from the Right Honourable the Lady
FRANCES SHIRLEY, a Standijh and two Pens 334









( 3)



The firft publication of this Epiftle.

THIS paper is a fort of bill of complaint,
begun many years fince, and drawn up by
fnatches, as the feveral occafions offered.
I had no thoughts of publiming it, till it pleafed fome
Perfons of Rank and Fortune [the Authors of Verft 5
to the Imitator of Horace, and of an Eplftle to a Doc-
tor of Divinity from a Nobleman at Hampton Court~\
to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only
my Writings (of which, being public, the Public is
judge) but my Perfon y Morals^ and Family > where-
of, to thofe who know me not, a truer information
may be requifite. Being divided between the necef-
fity to fay fomething of myfelf, and my own lazinefs
to undertake fo awkward a tafk, I thought it the
{horteft way to put the laft hand to this Epiftle. If
it have any thing pleafing, it will be that by which
I am moft defirous to pleafe, the Truth and the Sen-
timent j and tf any thing offenfive, it will be only to


thofe I am leaft forry to offend, the viciout or th*

Many will know their own pictures in it, there be-
ing not a circumftance but what is true ; but I have,
for the moft part, fpared their Names, and they may
cfcape being laughed at, if they pleafe.

I would have fome of them know, it was owing
to the requeft of the learned and candid Friend to
whom it is infcribed, that I make not as free ufe of
theirs as they have done of mine. However, I fhall
have this advantage, and honour, on my fide, that
whereas, by their proceeding, any abufe may be di-
rected at any man, no injury can poffibly be done by
mine, fince a namelefs Character can never be found
out, but by its truth and llkenefs. P.



T 6


An Apology for himfelf and his Writings.

Ep. to Dr. Arlutknot.'} AT the time of publifliing this
tfpirtle, the Poet's- patience was quite exhaufted by th
endlefs impertinence of Poetafters of all ranks and condi-
tions j as well thofe Who courted his favour, as thofe who
envied his reputation. So that now he had refolved to
quit his hands of both together, by the publication of a
DUNCIAD. This defign he communicated to his excellent
Friend Dr. ARBUTHNOT, who, although as a Man of
Wit and Learning he might not have been difpleafed to
fee their common injuries revenged on this pernicious
Tribe ; yet, as our Author's Friend and Phyfician, was
felicitous of his eafe and health ; and therefore unwilling
he mould provoke fo large and powerful a party.

Their difference of opinion, in this matter, gives occa-
fion to the following Dialogue. Where, in a natural and
familiar detail of all his Provocations, both from flatterers
and flanderers, our Author has artfully interwoven an
Apology for his nurat and poetic Character.

For after haying told his cafe, and humouroufly applied
to his Phyfician in the manner one would afk for a Receipt
to kill Vermin, he ftrait goes on, in the common Chara-
cter of Alkers of advice, to tell his Doctor that he had
already taken his party, and determined of his remedy.
But uf ng a preamble, and introducing it (in the way of
Poets) with a Simile, in which he names Kings, Queens*
and Minijters of State, his Friend takes the alarm, begs

B 3


him to forbear, to flick to his fubjeft, and to be eafy un-
der fo common a calamity.

To make fo light of his difafter provokes the Poet : he
breaks the thread of his difcourfes which was to lead his
Friend gently, and by degrees, into his project ; and ab-
ruptly tells him the application of his Simile, at once,

Out with it, Dundod! letthefecret pafs, &c.

But recollecting the humanity and tendernefs of his Friend,
which, he apprehends, might be a little mocked at the
apparent feverity of fuch a proceeding, he allures him,
that his good-nature is alarmed without a caufe, for that
nothing has lefs feeling than this fort of Offenders ; which
he illuflrates in the Examples of a damn d Poet, a detetted,
Slanderer, a Tabie-Parafite, a. Church-Buffoon, and aParty-
If'riter [from $ I to ICO.]

But, in this enumeration, coming again to Names, his
Friend once more flops him, and bids him confider what
hoflilities this general attack will fet on foot. So much
the better, replies the Poet ; for, confidering the ftror.g an-
tipatky of lad to good, enemies they will always be, either
open or fecret : and it admits of no queilion, but a Slan-
derer is lefs hurtful than a Flatterer. For, fays he (in a
pleafant Simile addreiled to his Friend's profeffion)

Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right,
It is the flaver kills, and not the bite.

And how abjeft and exceflive the flattery of thefe creatures
was, he Ihews, by obferving, that they praifed him even
for his infirmities ; his bad health, and his inconvenient
fliape \ji 100 to 125.]

But ftill it might be faid, that if he could bear this evil
of Authorfhip no better, he mould not have wrote at all.
To this he anfvvers, by lamenting the natural bent of his
difpofition, which, from his very birth, had drawn him fo
ilrongly towards Poetry, as if it were in execution of fome
fecret decree of Heaven for crimes' unknown. But though
he offended in becoming an Author, he offended in no-


thing elfe. For his early verfes were perfectly innocent
and harmlefs,

Like gentle Fanny's was my flowing theme,
A painted miftrefs, or a purling dream.

Vet even then, he tells us, two enraged and hungry Critics
fell upon him, without any provocation. But this might
have been borne, as the common lot of diftinction. But it
was bis peculiar ill-fortune to create a Jealoufy in One,
whom not only many good offices done by our Author to
him and his friends, but a fimilitude of genius and ftudies
might have inclined to a reciprocal affeftion and fupport.
On the contrary, that otherwife amiable Perfon, being, by
nature, timorous and fufpicious ; by education a party-
man ; and, by the circumftances of fortune, befet with
flatterers and pick-thanks ; regarded our Author as his
Rival, fet up by a contrary Faction, with views deftructive
of public liberty, and his friend's reputation. And all this,
with as little provocation from Mr. Pope's conduct in his
poetic, as in his civil character.

For though he had got a Name (the reputation of which
he agreeably rallies in the defcription he 'gives of it) yet
he never, even when moft in fafliion, fet up for a Patron,
or a Dictator amongft the Wits ; but ftill kept in his ufual
privacy ; leaving the 'whole Caftalian ftate, as he calls it, to
a Mock-Mecenas, whom he next defcribes [# 125 to

And, ftruck with the fenfe of that dignity and felicity in-
feparable from the character of a true Poet, he breaks out
into a paffionate vow for a continuance of the full Liberty
attendant on it. And to (hew how well he deferves it, and
how fafely he might be trufted with it, he concludes his
wifh with a delcription of his temper and difpofition
[^ 261 to 271.]

This naturally leads him to complain of his Friends,
when they confider him in no other view than that of an
Author : as if he had neither the fame right to the enjoy-


ments of life, the fame concern for his higheft interefts,
or the fame difpofitions of benevolence, with other

Befides, he now admonilhes them, in his turn, that they
do not confider to what they expofe him, when they urge
him to write on ; namely, to the fufpiciom and the difplea-
fure of a Court ; who are made to believe, he is always
writing ; or at lead to the foolifh criticifnts of court fyco-
phants, who pretend to find him, by his ftyle, in the im-
moral libels of every idle fcribler : though he, in the
mean time, be fo far from countenancing fuch worthlefs
tralh in others, that he would be ready to execrate even
his own beft vein of poetry, if made at the expence of
Truth or Innocence.

Curft be the verfe, how well fo e'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe ;
Give Virtue fcandal, Innocence a fear,
Or from the foft-ey'd virgin fteal a tear.

(Sentiments, which no efforts of genius, without the con-
currence of the heart, could have exprefied in drains fo
exquifitely fublime) that the fole objeft of his refentment
was vice and bnftnefs. In the detection of which, he art-
fully takes occaiion to fpeak of that by which he himfelf
had been injured and offended : and concludes with the
character of one who had wantonly outraged him, and in
the moft fenfible manner \jr 271 to 334.]

And here, moved again with frefh indignation at his
flanderers, he takes the advice of Horace, fume Juperbiam
eiHf/itam meritis, aifcd draws a fine picture of his moral and
poetic conduft through life. In which he mews that not
fame, but VIRTUE was the conftant object of his ambition :
that for this he oppofed himfelf to all the violence of
Cabals, and the treacheries of Courts : the various ini-
quities of which having dillinclly fpecified, he fums them
up in that moft atrocious and fenfible of all [if 334 to


The whifper, that to greatnefs ftill too near,
Perhaps yet vibrates on his SOVEREIGN'S ear.
Welcome for thee, fair Virtue ! all the paft :
For thee, fair Virtue f welcome ev'n the laft.

But here again his Friend interrupts the ftrains of his di-
vine enthufiann, and defires him to clear up an objection
made to his conduft, at Court. " That it was inhumane
" to infult the Poor, and ill-breeding to affront the
" Great." To which he replies, That indeed, in his pur-
fuit of Vice, he rarely confidered how Knavery was cir-
cumftanced ; but followed it, with his Vengeance, indif-
ferently, whether it led to the Pillory, or the Drawing-
Room [if 359 to 368.]

But left this mould give his Reader the idea of a favage
intraftable Virtue, which could bear with nothing, and
would pardon nothing, he takes to himfelf the fhame of
owning that he was of fo eafy a nature, as to be duped by
the flendereft appearances, a pretence to Virtue in awittj
IfcMait : fo forgiving, that he had fought out the object
of his beneficence in a perfonal Enemy: fo humble, that h
had fubmitted to the converfation of bad Poets : and fo
forbearing, that he had curbed in his refentmcnt under the
moft fhocking of all calumnies, abufes on hit Father and
Mother [* 368 to 388.]

This naturally leads him to give a fhort account of
their births, fortunes, and difpofitions ; which ends with
the tendereft wifhes for the happinefs of his Friend ; inter-
mixed with the moft pathetic defcription of that filial
Piety, in the exercife of which he makes his own happi-
nefs to confift.

Me let the tender office long engage

To rock the Cradle of repofmg Age ;

With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath,

Make Languor fmile, and fmooth the bed of Death ;

Explore the thought, explain the afking eye,

And keep a while one Parent from the iky I


And now the Poem, which holds fo much of the
DRAMA, and opens with all the diforder and vexation
that every kind of impertinence and flander could occa-
fion, concludes with the utmoft calmnefs and ferenity, in
the retired enjoyment of all the tender offices of FRIEND-
SHIP and PIETY [jfr 388 to the End.]






P.OHUT, fhut the door, good John! fatigu'd

Tye up the knocker, lay I'm fick, I'm dead.

The Dog-ftar rages ! nay 'tis paft a doubt,

All Bedlam, or Parnaflus, is let out :

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, 5

They rave, recite, and madden round the land.


VER. I . Sbut,Jhut the door, good John /] John Searl, his
old and faithful fervant : whom he has remembered, under
that char after, in his Will.

What walls can guard me, or what (hades can hide ?
They pierce my thickets, thro' my Grot they glide,
By land, by water, they renew the charge,
They itop the chariot, and they board the barge. 10
No place is facred, not the Church is free,
Ev'n Sunday (bines no Sabbath-day to me :
Then from the Mint walks forth the Man of rhyme,
Happy ! to catch me, juft at Dinner-time.

Is there a Parfon, much be-mus'd in beer, i>
A maudlin Poetefs, a rhyming Peer,
A Clerk, foredoom'd his father's foul to crofs,'
Who pens a Stanza, when he fhould engrofs ?
Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, fcrawls
With defp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls ?
All fly to TWIT' NAM, and in humble drain 21
Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.

V A R I AT I O N f S.

After jfr 20. in the MS.

Is there a Bard in durance ? turn them free,
With all their brandiih'd reams they run to me ;

No T E s.

VER. 12. E'v'n Sunday Jhines no Sabbath-day to me^\ The
beauty of this line arifes from the figurative terms of the
predicate alluding to thefutjeff. A fecret, in elegant ex-
preffion, which our Author often pradtifed.

VER. 13. Mint.] A place to which infolvent debtors re-
tired, to enjoy an illegal protection, which they were there
fuffered to afford one another, from the perfecution of
their creditors.


Arthur, whofe giddy fon neglects the Laws,
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the caufe :
Poor Cornus fees his frantic wife elope, 25

And curfes Wit, and Poetry, and Pope.

Friend to my Life ! (which did not you prolong,
The world had wanted many an idle fong)
What Drop or Nojlrum can this plague remove ?
Or which muft end me a Fool's wrath or love ? 3
A dire dilemma ! either way I'm fped.
If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead.
Seix'd and ty'd down to judge, how wretched I!
Who can't be filent, and who will not lye :
To laugh, were want of goodnefs and of grace, 35
And to be grave, exceeds all Pow'r of face.
1 fit with fad civility, I read
With honeft anguim, and an aching head j


Is there a Prentice, having feen two plays,
Who would do fomething in his Semptrefs' praife
VKR. 29. in the firfl Ed.

Deal- Doftor, tell me, is not this a curfe ?
Say, is their anger, or their friendfhip worfe ?


VER. 23. Jr/nr,~\ Arthur Moore, Efcf.

VER. 33, Se:z d and ty\i dt, to judge ,] Alluding to the
fcene in the Plain-Dealer, where Oldfox gags, and ties
down the Widow, to hear his well-fen d 'Jinnzas.

VER. 38. bonejt angitift,] i. e. undiflembled.

Ibid, an aching head ;} Alluding to the diforder he
thenfo conftantly aftlided ivith.

And drop at laft, but in unwilling ears, 39

This faring counfel, " Keep your piece nine years."

Nine years ! cries he, who high in Drury-lane,
LulPd by fort Zephyrs thro' the broken pane,
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends,
Oblig'd by hunger, and requeft of friends :
" The piece, you think, is incorrect ? why take it, ^.y
" I'm all fubmiflion, what you'd have it, make it."

Three things another's modeft wifhes bound,
My Friendfhip, and a Prologue, and ten pound.

Pitholeon fends to me : " You know his Grace,
" I want a Patron ; afk him for a Place." 50

Pitholeon libell'd me " but here's a letter
* Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better.
" Dare you refufe him ? Curl invites to dine,
?' He'll write a Journal^ or he'll turn Divine."

VER. 53. in the MS.

If you refufe, he goes, as fates incline,
To plague Sir Robert, or to turn Divine.


VER. 43. Rhymes ere he 'wakes,'] A pleafant allufion 10
thofe words of Milton,

Didlates to me flumb'ring, x>r inipires
Eafy my unpremeditated Verfe.
VER. 49. Pitholeon] The name taken from a foolifh
Poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol. in
Horat. 1. i. Dr. Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon li-
belled Cxfar alfo. See notes on Hor. Sat. 10. 1. i. P.


Blefs me ! a packet. " 'Tis a ftranger Cues, 55
" A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Mufe."
If I diflike it, " Furies, death and rage ! "
If I approve, " Commend it to the Stage."
There (thank my ftars) my whole commiflion ends,
The Play'rs and I are, luckily, no friends. 60

Fir'd that the houfe reject him, " 'Sdeath I'll print it,
" And fhame the fools Your int'reft, Sir, with


Lintot, dull rogue ! wiil think your price too much :
'* Not, Sir, if you revife it, and retouch."
All my demurs but double his attacks j 65

At laft he whifpers, " Do ; and we go macks."
Glad of a quarrel, {trait I clap the door,
Sir, let me fee your works and you no more.

'Tis fung, when Midas' Ears began to fpring,
(Midas, a facred perfon and a King) 70

VER. 60. in the former Edd.

Gibber and I are luckily no friends.


VER. 69. *Tisfung, when Midas' &cJ] The Poet means
ftng by Perfius ; and the words alluded to are,

Vidi, vidi ipfe, Libelle J
Auriculas Afini Mida Rex habet.

The tranfition is fine, but obfcure : for he has here imi-
tated the manner of that myfterious writer, as well as ta-
ken up his image. Our Author had been hitherto com-
plaining of the folly and importunity of indigent Scriblers ;


His very Minifter who fpy'd them firft,

(Some fay his Queen) was forc'd to fpeak, or burft.

And is not mine, my friend, a forer cafe,

When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face ?

A. Good friend forbear ! you deal in dang'rous things.

I'd never name Queens, Minifters, or Kings; 76

Keep clofe to Ears, and thofe let afies prick,

'Tis nothing P. Nothing? if they bite and kick 2

Out with it, DUNCIAD I let the fecret pafs,

That fecret to each fool, that he's an Afs : 80

The truth once told (and wherefore Ciould we lie?)

The queen of Midas flept, and fo may I.

You think this cruel ? take it for a rule,
No creature fmarts fo little as a fool.
Let peals of laughter, Codrus ! round thee breafc^ 85
Thou unconcern'd canft hear the mighty crack :
Pit, box, and gall'ry in convulfions hurl'd,
Thou ftand'ft unfhook amidft a burfting world.


}ie now infinuates he fuffered as much of both, from
Poetafters of Quality.

VER. jz. Queen] The ftory is told, by fome, of his Bar-
ber, but by Chaucer of his Queen. See Wife of Bath's
Tale in Drydens Fables. P.

VER. 80. That fecret to each fool, that bis an Afi : J i. e.
that his ears (his marks of folly) arevilible.

YER. 88. Alluding to Horace,

Si fradlus illabatur orbis,

Impavidum ferient ruinse. P.


Who (names a Scribler ? break one cobweb thro',

He fpins the flight, felf-pleafing thread anew : 90

Deftroy his fib or fophiftry, in vain,

The creature's at his dirty work again,

Thron'd in the centre of his thin defigns,

Proud of a vaft extent of flimzy lines !

"Whom have I hurt ? has Poet yet, or Peer, 95

Loft the arch'd eye-brow, or Parnaflian fneer !

And has not Colly ftill his lord, and whore ?

His butchers Henley, his free-mafons Moor ?

Does not one table Bavius ftill admit ?

Still to one Bifhop Philips feem a wit ? 100

Still Sappho A. Holdj for God-fake you'll offend,

No Names be calm learn prudence of a friend :

J too could write, and I am twice as tall j

But foes like thefe P. One Flatt'rer's worfe than all.


VER. 92. The creature s at bis dirty <work again,'] This
tnetamorpho/ingy as it were, the Scribler into a Spider is much
more poetical than a comparifon would have been. But
Poets mould be cautious how they employ this figure ; for
where the likenefs is not very ftriking, inflead of giving
force, they become obfcure. Here, every thing concurs to
make them run into one another, They both^'; not
from the head [reafon] but from the guts [paflions and pre-
judices] and fuch a thread that can entangle none but crea-
tures weaker than themfelves.

VER. 98. free-m*fonsMoor?} He was of this fociety, and
frequently headed their proceflions.


Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right, 105
It is the flaver kills, and not the bite.
A fool quite angry is quite innocent :
Alas ! 'tis ten times worfe when they repent.

One dedicates in high heroic profe,
And ridicules beyond a hundred foes : 119

One from all Grubftreet will my fame defend,
And more abufive, calls himfelf my friend*
This prints my Letters^ that expects a bribe,
And others roar aloud, " Subfcribe, fubfcribe."

There are, who to my perfon pay their court : i 1 5
I cough like Horace, and, tho' lean, am fhort,
Ammons great fon one fhoulder had too high,
Such Ovid's nofe, and " Sir ! you have an Eye-
Go on, obliging creatures, make me fee
All that difgrac'd my Betters, met in me* 129

V A R I A T I O N*S.

VER. in. in the MS.

For fong, for filence fome expecl a bribe ;
And others roar aloud, " Subfcribe, fubfcribe."
Time, praife, or money, is the leaft they crave ;
Yet each declares the other fool or knave.


VER. 1 1 8. Sir, you ba-ve an Eye] It is remarkable thaf
amongft thefe compliments on his infirmities and deformi-
ties, he mentions his eye, which was fine, fharp, and
piercing. It was done to intimate, that flattery was as
odious to him when there was fome ground for coanmea -
dation, as when tliv/e was none.



Say for my comfort, languiming in bed,
" Juft fo immortal Maro held his head :"
And when I die, be fure you let me know
Great Homer dy'd three thoufand years ago.

Why did I write ? what fin to me unknown 125
Dipt me in ink, my parent's, or my own ?
As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
I lifp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.

After )J' 124. in the MS.

But, friend, this ihape, which You and Curia admire,
Came not from Ammon's fon, but from my Sire :
And for my head, if you'll the truth excufe,
I had it from my Mother % not the Mufe.
Happy, if he, in whom thefe frailties join'd,
Had heir'd as well the virtues of the mind.

a Curl fet up his head for a fign. b His Father was crooked.
e His Mother was much afflifted with head-achs.


V$R. 127. AsjetacbHt/,&c.] He ufed to fay, that he
began to write verfes further back, than he could remem-
ber. When he was eight years old, Ogilby's Homer fell
in his way, and delighted him extremely ; it was followed
by Sandys' Ovid ; and the raptures thefe then gave him
were fo ftrong, that he fpoke of them with pleafure ever
after. About ten, being at fchool at Hide-park-corner,
where he was much neglected, and fuffered to go to the
Comedy with the greater boys, he turned the tranfaclions
of the Iliad into a play, made up of a number of Ipeeches
from Ogilby's tranflation, tacked together with verfes of
his own. He had the addrefs to periuade the upper boys
to ait it ; he even prevailed on the Matter's Gardener to

1 left no calling for this idle trade,
No duty broke, no father difobey'd. 130

The Mufe but ferv'd to cafe fome friend, not Wife,
To help me thro' this long difeafe, my Life,
To fecond, ARBUTHNOT ! thy Art and Care,
And teach, the Being you preferv'd, to bear.

But why then publifh? Granville the polite, 13$
And knowing JValjh^ would tell me I could write i
Well-natur'd Garth inflam'd with early praife,
And Congreve lov'd, and Swift endur'd my lays ;


reprefent Ajax ; and contrived to have all the aftors dref-
fed after the pictures in his favourite Ogilby. At twelve
he went with his Father into the Forefl : and then got firft
acquainted with the writings of Waller, Spencer, and Dry-
den ; in the order I have named them. On the firft fight
of Dryden, he found he had what he wanted. His Poerrti
were never out of his hands ; they became his model ;
and from them alone he learnt the whole magic of his veri-
fication. This year he began an epic Poem, the fame
which Bp. Atterbury, long afterwards, perfuaded him to
burn. Befides this, he wrote, in thofc early days, a Co-

1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Online LibraryAlexander PopeThe works of Alexander Pope Esq. : In nine volumes, complete. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements; as they were delivered to the editor, a little before his death. Together with the commentary and notes of Mr. Warburton (Volume 4) → online text (page 1 of 18)