EPISTLE to Dr Arbuthnot P. BEING THE PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES. HUT, fhut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said, SHUT, Tye up the knocker, fay I'm fick, I'm dead, The Dog-ftar rages! nay 'tis paft a doubt, Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, 5 They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. 10 Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme VER. 1. Shut, fout the door, good John!] John Searl, his old and faithful fervant, whom he has remembered, under that character, in his Will. Is there a Parfon, much be-mus'd in beer, A Clerk foredoom'd his father's foul to cross, 15 Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, fcrawls Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead. 25 30 VER. 13 Mint.] A place to which infolvent debtors retired, to enjoy an illegal protection, which they were there fuffered to afford one another, from the perfecution of their creditors. After ver. 20. in the MS. Is there a Bard in durance? turn them free, VER. 29. in the ift Ed., Dear Doctor tell me, is not this a curfe? Seis'd and tied down to judge, how wretched I! I fit with fad civility, I read With honeft anguish and an aching head; This faving counfel, "Keep your piece nine years." Nine years! cries he, who high in Drury-lane, Lull'd by foft Zephyrs thro' the broken pane, Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends, Oblig'd by hunger and request of friends: 35 39 "The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it, 45 "I want a Patron; afk him for a Place." 50 VER. 49. Pitholeon] The name taken from a foolish Poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol. in Horat. l. 1. Dr Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon libelled Cæfar alfo. VER. 53. in the MS. If you refufe, he goes, as fates incline, Blefs me! a packet.-" 'Tis a ftranger fues, 55 "A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Mufe. If I diflike it, "Faries, death and rage! Fir'd that the house reject him, "'Sdeath I'll print it, "Lintot. " Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much: "Not, Sir, if you revife it, and retouch." All demurs but double his attacks; At laft he whispers, " Do, and we go fnacks. Sir, let me fee your works and you no more. His very Minifter who fpy'd them first, (Some fay his Queen) was forc'd to speak, or burft. And is not mine, my friend, a sorer cafe, When every coxcomb perks them in my face? 65 A. Good friend forbear! you deal in dang'rous things, I'd never name Queens, Minifters, or Kings; Keep clole to Ears, and thofe let affes prick, 'Tis nothing-P. Nothing? if they bite and kick? VER. 6o. in the former Ed. Cibber and I are luckily no friends. 76 VFR. 72. Queen] The ftory is told, by fome, of his Barber, but by Chaucer of his Queen. See Wife of Bath's Tale in Dryden's Fables. |