DIALOGUE. II.
9
Each Widow asks it for the Best of Men,
For him she weeps, and him she weds agen.
Praise cannot stoop, like Satire, to the Ground;
The Number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd.
Enough for half the Greatest of these days
To 'scape my Censure, not expect my Praise:
Are they not rich? what more can they pretend?
Dare they to hope a Poet for their Friend?
What Richelieu wanted, Louis scarce could gain,
And what young Ammon wish'd, but wish'd in vain.
No Pow'r the Muse's Friendship can command;
No Pow'r, when Virtue claims it, can withstand:
To Cato, Virgil pay'd one honest line;
O let my Country's Friends illumin mine!
—What are you thinking?A. Faith, the thought's no Sin,
I think your Friends are out, and would be in.
B. If merely to come in, Sir, they go out,
The way they take is strangely round about.
A. They too may be corrupted, you'll allow?
B. I only call those Knaves who are so now.
For him she weeps, and him she weds agen.
Praise cannot stoop, like Satire, to the Ground;
The Number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd.
Enough for half the Greatest of these days
To 'scape my Censure, not expect my Praise:
Are they not rich? what more can they pretend?
Dare they to hope a Poet for their Friend?
What Richelieu wanted, Louis scarce could gain,
And what young Ammon wish'd, but wish'd in vain.
No Pow'r the Muse's Friendship can command;
No Pow'r, when Virtue claims it, can withstand:
To Cato, Virgil pay'd one honest line;
O let my Country's Friends illumin mine!
—What are you thinking?A. Faith, the thought's no Sin,
I think your Friends are out, and would be in.
B. If merely to come in, Sir, they go out,
The way they take is strangely round about.
A. They too may be corrupted, you'll allow?
B. I only call those Knaves who are so now.
Is
