Know, those who violence pursue,

Give to themselves the vengeance due;
For in these maffacres they find

The two chief plagues that waste mankind.
Our skin fupplies the wrangling bar,

It wakes their flumb'ring fons to war;
And well revenge may reft contented,
Since drums and parchment were invented.

FABLE

FABLE VI.

The MISER and PLUTUS.

THE wind was high, the window shakes,

With fudden ftart the Mifer wakes;

Along the filent room he ftalks ;

Looks back, and trembles as he walks!
Each lock and ev'ry bolt he tries,
In ev'ry creek and corner pries,

Then opes the cheft with treasure ftor'd,
And ftands in rapture o'er his hoard.
But, now with fudden qualms poffeft,
He wrings his hands, he beats his breast,
By confcience ftung, he wildly ftares;
And thus his guilty foul declares.

Had the deep earth her stores confin'd,
This heart had known fweet peace of mind.
But virtue's fold. Good gods! what price
Can recompenfe the pangs of vice!
O bane of good! feducing cheat!

Can man, weak man, thy power defeat?
Gold banish'd honour from the mind,

And only left the name behind;

Gold

Gold fow'd the world with ev'ry ill;

Gold taught the murd'rer's fword to kill:
'Twas gold inftructed coward hearts,

In treach'ry's more pernicious arts.
Who can recount the mifchiefs o'er ?
Virtue refides on earth no more!

He fpoke, and figh'd. In angry mood,
Plutus, his god, before him ftood.
The Mifer trembling, lock'd his cheft;
The Vifion frown'd, and thus addreft.
Whence is this vile ungrateful_rant ?
Each fordid rafcal's daily cant.
Did I, bafe wretch, corrupt mankind?
The fault's in thy rapacious mind.
Because my bleffing's are abus'd,
Muft I be cenfur'd, curs'd, accus'd ;
Ev'n virtue's felf by knaves is made
A cloak to carry on the trade ;

And pow'r (when lodg'd in their poffeffion)
Grows tyranny, and rank oppreffion.

Thus, when the villain crams his cheft,
Gold is the canker of the breaft;
"Tis avarice, infolence, and pride,
And ev'ry fhocking vice befide.

But