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Or, that you can less science show
In music? Or, like Parisot,

The figure steps can't do?*

Or, why should man his spirits vex,
To hear from all the female sex,

Another's form commended?†

Every little accomplishment is equally a source of envious detraction; but not alone to the bodily requisites do these meannesses extend; virtue itself is not proof against calumny; for so rancorous is her tooth, that, as Livy says, Cœca invidia est; nec quidquam aliud scit, quam detractare virtutes.

I have alluded above to the folly of females, in regard to envy: not that I can discriminate the difference of a shade between them and the male part of the creation, which is equally enslaved by this degrading folly: for, let a man be extolled in a society of males for any superior endowments, whether mental or corporeal, and you will never fail to hear the hue and cry raised against him for numberless faults, to counterbalance the eulogium, whether they belong to him or not. The injured man, however, has always this consolation, that, notwithstanding the tale may be credited by the multitude of fools, the wise man will always discern the truth, and see clearly through the flimsy veil, which mali

Why feed on mean and envious thought,
To see a mind with learning fraught,

And polish'd manners blended?

Rather let such the model be
Of emulation unto thee:

A sure reward thou'lt find.

For, by such tributary praise,

Thou❜lt weave for thine own brow the bays;
Ennobling soul and mind.

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.

Be wise, O fool! and, if thou wouldst find rest, Forth from thy mind each envious thought dis

pel:

For he that hugs this demon to his breast,

Is curs'd thro' life with an eternal hell.*

cious spirits, conscious of their own inferiority, purposely weave, in order to conceal the truth from their envious minds.

* This advice of the poet cannot be better illustrated than by quoting these words of Juvenal:

Invidia Siculi non invenere tyranni;
Tormentum majus.

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS.

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

SECTION LIV.

OF FOOLS WHO BELIEVE IN PREDESTINATION.

Che sara sara.

Make fools believe in their foreseeing
Of things, before they are in being;
As if the planet's first aspect,
The tender infant did infect,

In soul and body, and instil

All future good and future ill.

THIS fool, who shows bells, cap, and ladle, Vows that, ere yet a babe in cradle,

His destiny, by fate, was told,

How he should wear both clout and frock;

The meazles suffer, chicken pock,

The hooping cough; and catch a cold.

'Twas equally a point momentous, And a forewarning, most portentous, For playing truant, jest in church;

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Or, when in school, neglecting book,

Or, running scores with pastry cook,

That breech should feel the twitch of birch.*

In youth, 'twas no less necessary

For him to fall in love with Mary,

And pay to parish pounds for fun:
That he full oft should be a failer,
In sett❜ling bills; and that his tailor
Should hire the bailiff for his dun.

That he, in age, should need no lasses;
But, for his eyes, on nose wear glasses;
With pain rheumatic crawl about:
With toothless gums his victuals mumble;
And, with ill nature, often grumble,
When he endures a fit of gout.

* This species of foolish foreknowledge brings to mind these lines of Butler:

Some towns and cities, some, for brevity,

Have cast the 'versal world's nativity;
And made the infant stars confess,

Like stars on children, what they please.

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