But what's sufficient to make nature strong,
50 And the bright lamp of life continue long,
I'd freely take, and, as I did possess,
The bounteous Author of my plenty bless.

55

I'd have a little vault, but always stored
With the best wines each vintage could afford.
Wine whets the wit, improves its native force,
And gives a pleasant flavour to discourse:
By making all our spirits debonair,

Throws off the lees, the sediment of care.
But as the greatest blessing Heaven lends
60 May be debauched, and serve ignoble ends;
So, but too oft, the grape's refreshing juice
Does many mischievous effects produce.
My house should no such rude disorders know,
As from high drinking consequently flow;
Nor would I use what was so kindly given,
To the dishonour of indulgent Heaven.

65

70

75

If any neighbour came, he should be free,
Used with respect, and not uneasy be,

In my retreat, or to himself or me.

What freedom, prudence, and right reason give,
All men may, with impunity, receive:

But the least swerving from their rule's too much;
For what's forbidden us, 'tis death to touch.

That life may be more comfortable yet,

And all my joys, refined, sincere, and great;

I'd choose two friends, whose company would be

A great advance to my felicity:

Well-born, of humours suited to my own,

Discreet, and men as well as books have known:

Brave, generous, witty, and exactly free
From loose behaviour, or formality:

Airy and prudent; merry, but not light;
Quick in discerning, and in judging right:
Secret they should be, faithful to their trust;
In reasoning cool, strong, temperate, and just;
Obliging, open, without huffing, brave;
Brisk in gay talking, and in sober, grave:
Close in dispute, but not tenacious; tried
By solid reason, and let that decide:
Not prone to lust, revenge, or envious hate;
Nor busy meddlers with intrigues of state:
Strangers to slander, and sworn foes to spite;
Not quarrelsome, but stout enough to fight;
Loyal, and pious, friends to Cæsar; true
As dying martyrs, to their Maker too.

In their society I could not miss

A permanent, sincere, substantial bliss.

Would bounteous Heaven once more indulge, I'd choose

(For who would so much satisfaction lose,
As witty nymphs, in conversation, give?)
Near some obliging modest fair to live:
For there's that sweetness in a female mind,
Which in a man's we cannot hope to find;

That, by a secret, but a powerful art,

Winds up the spring of life, and does impart
Fresh vital heat to the transported heart.

I'd have her reason all her passion sway:
Easy in company, in private gay:
Coy to a fop, to the deserving free;

Still constant to herself, and just to me.

A soul she should have for great actions fit;
Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit:
Courage to look brave danger in the face;
No fear, but only to be proud, or base;
Quick to advise, by an emergence prest,
To give good counsel, or to take the best.

I'd have th' expression of her thoughts be such,
She might not seem reserved, nor talk too much :
That shows a want of judgment, and of sense;
More than enough is but impertinence.

Her conduct regular, her mirth refined;
Civil to strangers, to her neighbours kind:
Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride;

In all the methods of deceit untried:
So faithful to her friend, and good to all,
No censure might upon her actions fall:
Then would ev'n Envy be compelled to say,
She goes the least of womankind astray.

To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire;
Her conversation would new joys inspire;
Give life an edge so keen, no surly care

Would venture to assault my soul, or dare
Near my retreat, to hide one secret snare.
But so divine, so noble a repast

I'd seldom, and with moderation, taste:
For highest cordials all their virtue lose,

By a too frequent and too bold a use;

And what would cheer the spirits in distress,
Ruins our health, when taken to excess.

I'd be concerned in no litigious jar;
Beloved by all, not vainly popular.
Whate'er assistance I had power to bring,
T'oblige my country, or to serve my king,
Whene'er they call, I'd readily afford

135

140

My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my sword.

145

Lawsuits I'd shun, with as much studious care,
As I would dens where hungry lions are;

And rather put up injuries, than be

A plague to him, who'd be a plague to me.

I value quiet at a price too great,

To give for my revenge so dear a rate:

For what do we by all our bustle gain,
But counterfeit delight for real pain? .

If Heaven a date of many years would give,
Thus I'd in pleasure, ease, and plenty live.
And as I near approached the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
Whilst I did for a better state prepare.

150

155

160

165

Then I'd not be with any trouble vexed,
Nor have the evening of my days perplexed;
But by a silent and a peaceful death,
Without a sigh, resign my aged breath.
And when committed to the dust, I'd have
Few tears, but friendly, dropped into my grave,
Then would my exit so propitious be,

All men would wish to live and die like me.