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on or colour, not to the devil himself, for what he does; he is a Rave to Mammon bout wages. The first makes a shift to be beloved ; ay, and envied too by some ple; the second is the universal object of hatred and contempt. There is no vice has n lo pelted with good sentences, and especially by the poets, who have pursued it

stories, and fables, and allegories, and allufions; and moved, as we say, every store Aing at it: among all which, I do not remember a more fine and gentleman-likę rection, than that which was given it by one line of Ovid:

« Desunt luxuriæ multa, avaritiæ omnia."

Much is wanting to luxury, all to avarice.
To which saying, I have a mind to add one member, and render it thus :

Poverty wants fome, luxury many, avarice all things.
Somebody says * of a virtuous and wise man " that having nothing, he has all :" this is
this antipode, who, having all things, yet has nothing. He is a guardian eunuch to
s beloved gold : “audivi eos amatores effe maximos, sed nil potesse." They are the
acest losers, but impotent to enjoy.

And, oh, what man's condition can be worse
Than his, whom plenty starves, and bleffings curse;
The beggars but a common fate deplore,

The rich poor man's emphatically poor. I wonder how it comes to pass, that there has never been any law made against him : gainst him do I say? I mean, for him: as there are public provisions made for all aher madmen : it is very reasonable that the king should appoint fome persons (and I think the courtiers would not be against this propofition) to manage his estate during

life (for his heirs commonly need not that care): and out of it to make it their baliness to fee, that he should not want alimony befitting his condition, which he could sever get out of his own cruel fingers. We relieve idle vagrants, and counterfeit begFars

; but have no care at all of these really poor men, who are, methinks, to be re. petfully treated, in regard of their quality. I might be endless against them, but I in almost choaked with the super-abundance of the matter ; too much plenty impoFerihes me, as it does them. I will conclude this odious subject with part of Horace's frit fatire, which take in his own familiar style;

I admire, Mæcenas, how it comes to pass,
That no man ever yet contented was,
Nor is, nor perhaps will be, with that state
In which his own choice plants him, or his fate.
Happy the merchant, the old soldier cries :
The merchant, beaten with tempestuous skies,
Happy the soldier ! one half-hour to thee
Gives speedy death, or glorious victory :
The lawyer, knockt up early from his reft
By reftlefs clients, calls the peasant bleft:
The peasant, when his labours ill succeed,
Envies the mouth, which only talk does feed.
'Tis not (I think you'll say) that I want store
Of instances, if here I add no more ;
They are enough to reach, at least a mile,

Beyond long orator Fabius's ftyle. "The author, well acquainted with the taste of his readers, would not disgust their delicacy by lete ting them know that this a fomebody" was St. Paul, [2 Cor. vi. 10.)-Though the sease and expicka son would have done honour to Plato. Hurd.



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