How could you, Gay, disgrace the Muse’s train,
To serve a tasteless court twelve years in vain![2]
Fain would I think our female friend [3] sincere,
Till Bob,[4] the poet’s foe, possess’d her ear. 
Did female virtue e’er so high ascend,
To lose an inch of favour for a friend? 
  Say, had the court no better place to choose
For triee, than make a dry-nurse of thy Muse? 
How cheaply had thy liberty been sold,
To squire a royal girl of two years old: 
In leading strings her infant steps to guide,
Or with her go-cart amble side by side![5]
  But princely Douglas,[6] and his glorious dame,
Advanced thy fortune, and preserved thy fame. 
Nor will your nobler gifts be misapplied,
When o’er your patron’s treasure you preside: 
The world shall own, his choice was wise and just,
For sons of Phoebus never break their trust. 
  Not love of beauty less the heart inflames
Of guardian eunuchs to the sultan’s dames,
Their passions not more impotent and cold,
Than those of poets to the lust of gold. 
With Paean’s purest fire his favourites glow,
The dregs will serve to ripen ore below: 
His meanest work:  for, had he thought it fit
That wealth should be the appanage of wit,
The god of light could ne’er have been so blind
To deal it to the worst of human kind. 
  But let me now, for I can do it well,
Your conduct in this new employ foretell. 
  And first:  to make my observation right,
I place a statesman full before my sight,
A bloated minister in all his gear,
With shameless visage and perfidious leer: 
Two rows of teeth arm each devouring jaw,
And ostrich-like his all-digesting maw. 
My fancy drags this monster to my view,
To shew the world his chief reverse in you. 
Of loud unmeaning sounds, a rapid flood
Rolls from his mouth in plenteous streams of mud;
With these the court and senate-house he plies,
Made up of noise, and impudence, and lies. 
  Now let me show how Bob and you agree: 
You serve a potent prince,[7] as well as he. 
The ducal coffers trusted to your charge,
Your honest care may fill, perhaps enlarge: 
His vassals easy, and the owner blest;
They pay a trifle, and enjoy the rest. 
Not so a nation’s revenues are paid;
The servant’s faults are on the master laid. 
The people with a sigh their taxes bring,
And, cursing Bob, forget to bless the king. 
  Next hearken, Gay, to what thy charge requires,
With servants, tenants, and the neighbouring squires,
Let all domestics feel your gentle sway;
Nor bribe, insult, nor flatter, nor betray. 
Let due reward to merit be allow’d;
Nor with your kindred half the palace crowd;
Nor think yourself secure in doing wrong,
By telling noses [8] with a party strong. 
  Be rich; but of your wealth make no parade;
At least, before your master’s debts are paid;
Nor in a palace, built with charge immense,