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Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say,
And, if he lyes not, must at least betray:
Who to the [1]Dean and silver Bell can swear,
And sees at Cannons what was never there:
Who reads but with a Lust to mis-apply, 290
Make Satire a Lampoon, and Fiction, Lye.
A Lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
But all such babling blockheads in his stead.
And, if he lyes not, must at least betray:
Who to the [1]Dean and silver Bell can swear,
And sees at Cannons what was never there:
Who reads but with a Lust to mis-apply, 290
Make Satire a Lampoon, and Fiction, Lye.
A Lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
But all such babling blockheads in his stead.
Let [2]Paris tremble—"What? that Thing of silk,
"Paris, that mere white Curd of Ass's milk? 295
"Satire or Shame alas! can Paris feel?
"Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"
Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,
This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings;
Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys, 300
Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys,
So well-bred Spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the Game they dare not bite.
Eternal Smiles his Emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. 305
Whether in florid Impotence he speaks,
And, as the Prompter breathes, the Puppet squeaks;
"Paris, that mere white Curd of Ass's milk? 295
"Satire or Shame alas! can Paris feel?
"Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"
Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,
This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings;
Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys, 300
Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys,
So well-bred Spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the Game they dare not bite.
Eternal Smiles his Emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. 305
Whether in florid Impotence he speaks,
And, as the Prompter breathes, the Puppet squeaks;
Or
