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AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.
Dear Joseph—five-and-twenty years ago
Whence comes it then, that, in the wane of life,
Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe,
Go, fellow !—whither ?—turning short about, Nay-stay at home-you're always going out. 'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end.For what?—An please you, sir, to see a friend.A friend ! Horatio cried, and seem'd to startYea marry shalt thou, and with all
heart. And fetch my cloak; for though the night be raw, I'll see him too-the first I ever saw.
I knew the man, and knew his nature mild,
mind, Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.
But not to moralize too much, and strain
Oh, happy Britain ! we have not to fear Such hard and arbitrary measure here; Else, could a law like that which I relate Once have the sanction of our triple state, Some few, that I have known in days of old, Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold; While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow, Might traverse England safely to and fro, An honest man, close-button'd to the chin, Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.