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Tho' wond'ring Senates hung on all he spoke,
The Club must hail him Master of the Joke.
Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?
He'll shine a Tully, and a Wilmot too:
Then turns repentant, and his God adores
With the same Spirit that he drinks and whores:
Enough, if all around him but admire,
And now the Punk applaud, and now the Fry'r.
Thus, with each gift of Nature and of Art,
And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
Grown all to all, from no one Vice exempt,
And most contemptible to shun Contempt;
His Passion still to covet gen'ral praise,
His Life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;
His constant Bounty no one friend has made;
His Angel Tongue no mortal can persuade:
A Fool, with more of Wit than half mankind,
Too rash for Thought, for Action too refin'd:
A Tyrant to the Wife his Heart approves;
A Rebel to the very King he loves;
He dies, sad out-cast of each Church and State!
And (harder still) flagitious, yet not great!
The Club must hail him Master of the Joke.
Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?
He'll shine a Tully, and a Wilmot too:
Then turns repentant, and his God adores
With the same Spirit that he drinks and whores:
Enough, if all around him but admire,
And now the Punk applaud, and now the Fry'r.
Thus, with each gift of Nature and of Art,
And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
Grown all to all, from no one Vice exempt,
And most contemptible to shun Contempt;
His Passion still to covet gen'ral praise,
His Life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;
His constant Bounty no one friend has made;
His Angel Tongue no mortal can persuade:
A Fool, with more of Wit than half mankind,
Too rash for Thought, for Action too refin'd:
A Tyrant to the Wife his Heart approves;
A Rebel to the very King he loves;
He dies, sad out-cast of each Church and State!
And (harder still) flagitious, yet not great!
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