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For, there's in lying such a charm, ... .
Men thereby think t’escape the harm, *
And thus punition’s lash evade;
Being in tenfold sin array’d:
Forgetful that, by frank confession,
You half efface the first transgression.. ..

Full oft you find that heedless youths, f
Bring on themselves by such untruths;
A father's unrelenting ire,
When, from his knowledge they desire

* La scusa del peccato accresce il peccato.

+ There is some palliative for the petty untruths of chil. dren, who seek to evade the rod, through the medium of falsehood; as well as for the felon, who knows that confession must bring him to the gallows; but when we find vera. city neglected, where it would not only, in a great measure, obliterate the first offence, but save the guiltiness of a se. cond fault, (than which none is more mean and despicable) there can be no excuse whatsoever for its commission. Thus, the fool, though he laughs in his sleeve, having practised on others, by his falsehood, hath too frequently to rue the effects of the folly committed against himself: therefore let these words of Seneca be ever kept in remembrance: Quem pænitet peccasse, pene est innocens.

A a 2

Their faults to hide: whereas contrition,
With truth, had banish'd all punition.

L'ENVOY OF THE poet.
He, who conviction of one fault doth feel,

And errs anew, the former sin to hide,
Flies, like the ruin'd gambler, to conceal

His rashness, by the stroke of suicide.

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS. . Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis, Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Nayis.

SECTION LX.

OF FOOLS WHOSE LABOUR CONSTITUTES. THEIR

PLEASURE.

As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly.

To rise at dawn this fool takes pains; :
Tho’not to stock his silly brains,

And boast bright wisdom's rules;
He rather idles time away,
And loves from wisdom's path to stray,

With other kindred fools.
He riseth with the matin sun,
And takes his pointer and his gun,

To toil thro' foul and fair;
To wade thro' bog, o'er hedge to scramble,
And feel the wound from many a bramble,

In hopes to kill an hare.*

* That pursuit must indeed be noble which has for its aim so glorious an achievement, as the slaughter of an animal in

Thro' new plough'd lands well drench'd with rains,
Up the steep hills, o'er swampy plains,

While wet o’ertops his boot,
Full thirty tedious miles he trudges,
Fatigue nor loss of time he grudges,

So he his brace can shoot.

Jaded at dark he gains his doors,
Gorges and drinks and yawns and snores,

And hies at length to bed;
What fool but envies him the lot
Of being dubb’d a d-d good shot,
. The most that can be said?*

offensive and timid like the hare; but indeed the avocations of these fools, are upon a par with the perspicuity of their understandings, which are invariably circumscribed to the capability of breaking in a pointer, shooting at a mark with precision, cleansing the lock and barrel of a fowling-piece, finding out the best covers, giving the view halloo, and sitting the longest at the table without getting dead drunk. These are sporting glories, which afford copious matter for conversation and exultation, even when the idiot has not an eye left to discern a partridge from a woodcock, or a hand steady enough to hit the great tun aţ Heidelbergh, though at the distance of one yard.

* Truly a very pretty and concise way of winding up or giving the ultimatum of a gentleman's education! yet it is

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.
If half the time thus spent in useless toil,

Was giv'n but to th' instruction of the mind,
These fools would not at common sense recoil,

And in laborious follies pleasure find.

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS. Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis, Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.”

a true bill, ás sufficient instances are adduceable in every county of the united kingdoms of this realm, to Warrant the opinion of the poet.

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