Why, answer, Lyttleton, and I’ll engage
  The worthy youth shall ne’er be in a rage;
  But were his verses vile, his whisper base,
  You’d quickly find him in Lord Fanny’s case. 
  Sejanus, Wolsey, hurt not honest Fleury,[207]
  But well may put some statesmen in a fury. 
    Laugh then at any, but at fools or foes;
  These you but anger, and you mend not those. 
  Laugh at your friends, and, if your friends are sore,
  So much the better, you may laugh the more. 
  To vice and folly to confine the jest,
  Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest;
  Did not the sneer of more impartial men
  At sense and virtue, balance all again. 
  Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule,
  And charitably comfort knave and fool.
    P.  Dear sir, forgive the prejudice of youth: 
  Adieu distinction, satire, warmth, and truth! 
  Come, harmless characters, that no one hit;
  Come, Henley’s oratory, Osborne’s wit! 
  The honey dropping from Favonio’s tongue,
  The flowers of Bubo, and the flow of Yonge! 
  The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence,
  And all the well-whipped cream of courtly sense,
  That first was H——­vy’s, F——­’s next, and then
  The S——­te’s and then H——­vy’s once again.[208]
  O come, that easy Ciceronian style,
  So Latin, yet so English all the while,
  As, though the pride of Middleton[209] and Bland,
  All boys may read, and girls may understand! 
  Then might I sing, without the least offence,
  And all I sung shall be the nation’s sense;
  Or teach the melancholy muse to mourn,
  Hang the sad verse on Carolina’s[210] urn,
  And hail her passage to the realms of rest,
  All parts performed, and all her children blest! 
  So—­satire is no more—­I feel it die—­
  No gazetteer more innocent than I—­
  And let, a’ God’s name, every fool and knave
  Be graced through life, and flattered in his grave.
    F.  Why so? if satire knows its time and place,
  You still may lash the greatest—­in disgrace: 
  For merit will by turns forsake them all;
  Would you know when? exactly when they fall. 
  But let all satire in all changes spare
  Immortal Selkirk[211], and grave De——­re. 
  Silent and soft, as saints remove to heaven,
  All ties dissolved and every sin forgiven,
  These may some gentle ministerial wing
  Receive, and place for ever near a king! 
  There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport,
  Lulled with the sweet nepenthe of a court;
  There, where no father’s, brother’s, friend’s disgrace
  Once break their rest, or stir them from their place: 
  But passed the sense of human miseries,
  All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes;
  No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb,
  Save when they lose a question, or a job.
    P.  Good heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory,