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SECTION XXIX.

OF FOOLS THAT DO OTHER MEN'S BUSINESS AND NEGLECT THEIR OWN.

Aliena negotia curo, excussus propriis.

SOME oafs there are so condescending,
So vastly fond of men's commending,
So prone at all times to be civil,
As to enact the thing that's evil.

Yet, when they thus the point attain,
And by their loss cause others' gain,
The world at large pursues one rule,
Forgets the favour and the fool.*

* These are a silly tribe of idiots, who find their own concerns in life so vastly smooth, that they must needs meddle in the puddle of other men's disquietudes and follies, which are thereby very frequently transferred from the back of the sufferer to that of the fool who would be meddling; but that the reader may not say that I adduce facts without a proof, let me only ask him if he ever affixed his name to a promissory note for a distressed friend, without having himself to honour it, and on his reply will I ground

A thousand proofs might be related,
Of time thus idly dissipated;

Yet none so well suits my reflection,
As busy fools at an Election: *

Who think themselves the bless'd of fate,
In dining with the candidate ;

Who when return'd pursues one rule,
For place discarding rights and fool.

Yet such is not the sole punition;
Of ills oft rise a coalition;

my position. Let it not, however, be understood, that I mean to render every man selfish, and a niggard of his kindness, for such is by no means my intention; on the contrary, no man should withhold from extending his hand to support the falling, so long as he can conscientiously say, he neither injures himself or those connected with him: but it is to the stupid fool I would speak, who, discarding every rational caution, will, in despite of reason, clap his neck into the halter.

*The folly of electioneering fools is, perhaps, of all others, the most conspicuous, for not only time is lost, to the prejudice of the man's family who embarks in this species of servitude, but he generally bestows his labour on one, whose first step will be to barter the liberty of his con stituents for a place or a pension.

Which proves the stupid dolt's undoing,
Who would be others' work pursuing.

'Tis then his quondam friends turn tail,
And he who serv'd 'em rots in gaol;
Where, though too late, he learns this rule,
Who serves all but himself's-a fool.

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.

None is so able favours to bestow,

As he whose labour gains the promis'd end: By industry thus teaching men to know, Who serves himself, can others' wants befriend.

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS.

Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis,
Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.

SECTION XXX.

OF FOOLS WHO COLLECT OLD BOOKS AND PRINTS.

Picciola cosa da lontano portata è da tutti molto bramata

Is it to read this dolt doth buy,
Of books so large a quantity,
Which he cant comprehend:
Of classics prime editions rare,
No stain no worm hole-title fair,
And margin without end?*

What means those piles of musty store,
These tiers of old black letter lore,

This rage, which we will denominate Cacoethes Carpendi, has been carried by a set of asses to the most ridicu lous pitch; as an extra inch of margin to a book has commanded ten times the price of an equally fine copy of the work without it; as if the sublimity of Homer, or the wit of Horace was heightened by this additional width of the blank paper that skirts the text of the author.

With wood-cuts so terrific?
Of Caxton fam'd-Wynken de Worde,
Of Pynson's, Copland's, all the herd,
Whose types are hieroglyphic.*
Say, is't for study you ne'er fail,
For quarto play† or tract at sale,
To bid as if quite crazy?

No, by the bindings, sense must laugh,
Fine gilt morocco, russia calf,

Proclaim the muse is lazy,

* Most of the works that issued from the presses of the above early printers, are.illustrated with cuts so rudely executed, as frequently to appear like any thing but what they are really intended to represent; yet in the eyes of blackletter collectors, those deformities possess the most invincible charm; for as to the matter of the work, that never constitutes any part of the pleasure of these gentlemen; let the book be but perfect, and in good condition, and no more is required.

+ Interludes, Quarto plays and Tracts, have produced prices that may well brand their purchasers with the name of fools. What man of understanding would believe that the first edition of a play would produce £.80, while the same drama, printed at a later period, may be procured for sixpence? Or who would credit, that an interlude or tract,

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