Epilogue[177] To The Satires. In Two Dialogues. Dialogue Ii Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A AABBBBCC DDE EFFGGH I IJJK B L I IB M N M OPBBQQBB RR AASTUU QQVWXXQQYY Z GG M MQQ A2A2Q Q B2 BBKKC2D2IIE2F2BB G2D2BBVWKKNNJH2I2I2B BBBJ2J2 QQNNNNK2K2L2L2 M2 QQBB BN2N2QQJ2J2BBO2O2BBY BB L2L2 P2 P2Q2Q2K2K2R2S2T2T2 KKBB AAJ2J2E2E2QQU2U2 AAK2K2V2V2I IH2H2J2 BB BBJ2J2 KKKQ2Q2QQBBFFQQ BW2 BX2Y2Z2U2A3A3BBBBQQB 3B3 A2A2QQQQFF C3 K2K2K2QQBB QQD3D3Q2Q2Q2Q2QQAAQQ QQ QQNN BBQ2QK2K2NNBBQQQQBB NNU2U2BB B Q Q Z2U2 Q QQQ2Q2Q2Q2BB Q| Fr 'Tis all a libel Paxton sir will say | A |
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| P Not yet my friend to morrow faith it may | A |
| And for that very cause I print to day | A |
| How should I fret to mangle every line | B |
| In reverence to the sins of thirty nine | B |
| Vice with such giant strides comes on amain | B |
| Invention strives to be before in vain | B |
| Feign what I will and paint it e'er so strong | C |
| Some rising genius sins up to my song | C |
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| F Yet none but you by name the guilty lash | D |
| Ev'n Guthrie saves half Newgate by a dash | D |
| Spare then the person and expose the vice | E |
| - | |
| P How sir not damn the sharper but the dice | E |
| Come on then Satire general unconfined | F |
| Spread thy broad wing and souse on all the kind | F |
| Ye statesmen priests of one religion all | G |
| Ye tradesmen vile in army court or hall | G |
| Ye reverend atheists | H |
| - | |
| F Scandal name them who | I |
| - | |
| P Why that's the thing you bid me not to do | I |
| Who starved a sister who forswore a debt | J |
| I never named the town's inquiring yet | J |
| The poisoning dame | K |
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| F You mean | B |
| - | |
| P I don't | L |
| - | |
| F You do | I |
| - | |
| P See now I keep the secret and not you | I |
| The bribing statesman | B |
| - | |
| F Hold too high you go | M |
| - | |
| P The bribed elector | N |
| - | |
| F There you stoop too low | M |
| - | |
| P I fain would please you if I knew with what | O |
| Tell me which knave is lawful game which not | P |
| Must great offenders once escaped the crown | B |
| Like royal harts be never more run down | B |
| Admit your law to spare the knight requires | Q |
| As beasts of nature may we hunt the 'squires | Q |
| Suppose I censure you know what I mean | B |
| To save a bishop may I name a dean | B |
| - | |
| F A dean sir no his fortune is not made | R |
| You hurt a man that's rising in the trade | R |
| - | |
| P If not the tradesman who set up to day | A |
| Much less the 'prentice who to morrow may | A |
| Down down proud Satire though a realm be spoil'd | S |
| Arraign no mightier thief than wretched Wild | T |
| Or if a court or country's made a job | U |
| Go drench a pickpocket and join the mob | U |
| - | |
| But sir I beg you for the love of vice | Q |
| The matter's weighty pray consider twice | Q |
| Have you less pity for the needy cheat | V |
| The poor and friendless villain than the great | W |
| Alas the small discredit of a bribe | X |
| Scarce hurts the lawyer but undoes the scribe | X |
| Then better sure it charity becomes | Q |
| To tax directors who thank God have plums | Q |
| Still better ministers or if the thing | Y |
| May pinch ev'n there why lay it on a king | Y |
| - | |
| F Stop stop | Z |
| - | |
| P Must Satire then nor rise nor fall | G |
| Speak out and bid me blame no rogues at all | G |
| - | |
| F Yes strike that Wild I'll justify the blow | M |
| - | |
| P Strike why the man was hanged ten years ago | M |
| Who now that obsolete example fears | Q |
| Ev'n Peter trembles only for his ears | Q |
| - | |
| F What always Peter Peter thinks you mad | A2 |
| You make men desperate if they once are bad | A2 |
| Else might he take to virtue some years hence | Q |
| - | |
| P As Selkirk if he lives will love the Prince | Q |
| - | |
| F Strange spleen to Selkirk | B2 |
| - | |
| P Do I wrong the man | B |
| God knows I praise a courtier where I can | B |
| When I confess there is who feels for fame | K |
| And melts to goodness need I Scarb'rough name | K |
| Pleased let me own in Esher's peaceful grove | C2 |
| Where Kent and nature vie for Pelham's love | D2 |
| The scene the master opening to my view | I |
| I sit and dream I see my Craggs anew | I |
| Ev'n in a bishop I can spy desert | E2 |
| Secker is decent Rundel has a heart | F2 |
| Manners with candour are to Benson given | B |
| To Berkeley every virtue under heaven | B |
| - | |
| But does the court a worthy man remove | G2 |
| That instant I declare he has my love | D2 |
| I shun his zenith court his mild decline | B |
| Thus Somers once and Halifax were mine | B |
| Oft in the clear still mirror of retreat | V |
| I studied Shrewsbury the wise and great | W |
| Carleton's calm sense and Stanhope's noble flame | K |
| Compared and knew their generous end the same | K |
| How pleasing Atterbury's softer hour | N |
| How shined the soul unconquer'd in the Tower | N |
| How can I Pulteney Chesterfield forget | J |
| While Roman spirit charms and Attic wit | H2 |
| Argyll the state's whole thunder born to wield | I2 |
| And shake alike the senate and the field | I2 |
| Or Wyndham just to freedom and the throne | B |
| The master of our passions and his own | B |
| Names which I long have loved nor loved in vain | B |
| Rank'd with their friends not number'd with their train | B |
| And if yet higher the proud list should end | J2 |
| Still let me say No follower but a friend | J2 |
| - | |
| Yet think not Friendship only prompts my lays | Q |
| I follow Virtue where she shines I praise | Q |
| Point she to priest or elder Whig or Tory | N |
| Or round a Quaker's beaver cast a glory | N |
| I never to my sorrow I declare | N |
| Dined with the Man of Ross or my Lord Mayor | N |
| Some in their choice of friends nay look not grave | K2 |
| Have still a secret bias to a knave | K2 |
| To find an honest man I beat about | L2 |
| And love him court him praise him in or out | L2 |
| - | |
| F Then why so few commended | M2 |
| - | |
| P Not so fierce | Q |
| Find you the virtue and I'll find the verse | Q |
| But random praise the task can ne'er be done | B |
| Each mother asks it for her booby son | B |
| Each widow asks it for 'the best of men ' | - |
| For him she weeps and him she weds again | B |
| Praise cannot stoop like satire to the ground | N2 |
| The number may be hang'd but not be crown'd | N2 |
| Enough for half the greatest of these days | Q |
| To 'scape my censure not expect my praise | Q |
| Are they not rich what more can they pretend | J2 |
| Dare they to hope a poet for their friend | J2 |
| What Richelieu wanted Louis scarce could gain | B |
| And what young Ammon wish'd but wish'd in vain | B |
| No power the Muse's friendship can command | O2 |
| No power when Virtue claims it can withstand | O2 |
| To Cato Virgil paid one honest line | B |
| Oh let my country's friends illumine mine | B |
| What are you thinking | Y |
| - | |
| F Faith the thought's no sin | B |
| I think your friends are out and would be in | B |
| - | |
| P If merely to come in sir they go out | L2 |
| The way they take is strangely round about | L2 |
| - | |
| F They too may be corrupted you'll allow | P2 |
| - | |
| P I only call those knaves who are so now | P2 |
| Is that too little Come then I'll comply | Q2 |
| Spirit of Arnall aid me while I lie | Q2 |
| Cobham's a coward Polwarth is a slave | K2 |
| And Lyttleton a dark designing knave | K2 |
| St John has ever been a wealthy fool | R2 |
| But let me add Sir Robert's mighty dull | S2 |
| Has never made a friend in private life | T2 |
| And was besides a tyrant to his wife | T2 |
| - | |
| But pray when others praise him do I blame | K |
| Call Verres Wolsey any odious name | K |
| Why rail they then if but a wreath of mine | B |
| O all accomplish'd St John deck thy shrine | B |
| - | |
| What shall each spur gall'd hackney of the day | A |
| When Paxton gives him double pots and pay | A |
| Or each new pension'd sycophant pretend | J2 |
| To break my windows if I treat a friend | J2 |
| Then wisely plead to me they meant no hurt | E2 |
| But 'twas my guest at whom they threw the dirt | E2 |
| Sure if I spare the minister no rules | Q |
| Of honour bind me not to maul his tools | Q |
| Sure if they cannot cut it may be said | U2 |
| His saws are toothless and his hatchet's lead | U2 |
| - | |
| It anger'd Turenne once upon a day | A |
| To see a footman kick'd that took his pay | A |
| But when he heard the affront the fellow gave | K2 |
| Knew one a man of honour one a knave | K2 |
| The prudent general turn'd it to a jest | V2 |
| And begg'd he'd take the pains to kick the rest | V2 |
| Which not at present having time to do | I |
| - | |
| F Hold sir for God's sake where 'a the affront to you | I |
| Against your worship when had Selkirk writ | H2 |
| Or Page pour'd forth the torrent of his wit | H2 |
| Or grant the bard whose distich all commend | J2 |
| 'In power a servant out of power a friend ' | - |
| To Walpole guilty of some venial sin | B |
| What's that to you who ne'er was out nor in | B |
| - | |
| The priest whose flattery bedropp'd the crown | B |
| How hurt he you he only stain'd the gown | B |
| And how did pray the florid youth offend | J2 |
| Whose speech you took and gave it to a friend | J2 |
| - | |
| P Faith it imports not much from whom it came | K |
| Whoever borrow'd could not be to blame | K |
| Since the whole house did afterwards the same | K |
| Let courtly wits to wits afford supply | Q2 |
| As hog to hog in huts of Westphaly | Q2 |
| If one through Nature's bounty or his lord's | Q |
| Has what the frugal dirty soil affords | Q |
| From him the next receives it thick or thin | B |
| As pure a mess almost as it came in | B |
| The blessed benefit not there confined | F |
| Drops to the third who nuzzles close behind | F |
| From tail to mouth they feed and they carouse | Q |
| The last full fairly gives it to the House | Q |
| - | |
| F This filthy simile this beastly line | B |
| Quite turns my stomach | W2 |
| - | |
| P So does flattery mine | B |
| And all your courtly civet cats can vent | X2 |
| Perfume to you to me is excrement | Y2 |
| But hear me further Japhet 'tis agreed | Z2 |
| Writ not and Chartres scarce could write or read | U2 |
| In all the courts of Pindus guiltless quite | A3 |
| But pens can forge my friend that cannot write | A3 |
| And must no egg in Japhet's face be thrown | B |
| Because the deed he forged was not my own | B |
| Must never patriot then declaim at gin | B |
| Unless good man he has been fairly in | B |
| No zealous pastor blame a failing spouse | Q |
| Without a staring reason on his brows | Q |
| And each blasphemer quite escape the rod | B3 |
| Because the insult's not on man but God | B3 |
| - | |
| Ask you what provocation I have had | A2 |
| The strong antipathy of good to bad | A2 |
| When truth or virtue an affront endures | Q |
| The affront is mine my friend and should be yours | Q |
| Mine as a foe profess'd to false pretence | Q |
| Who think a coxcomb's honour like his sense | Q |
| Mine as a friend to every worthy mind | F |
| And mine as man who feel for all mankind | F |
| - | |
| F You're strangely proud | C3 |
| - | |
| P So proud I am no slave | K2 |
| So impudent I own myself no knave | K2 |
| So odd my country's ruin makes me grave | K2 |
| Yes I am proud I must be proud to see | Q |
| Men not afraid of God afraid of me | Q |
| Safe from the bar the pulpit and the throne | B |
| Yet touch'd and shamed by ridicule alone | B |
| - | |
| O sacred weapon left for truth's defence | Q |
| Sole dread of folly vice and insolence | Q |
| To all but heaven directed hands denied | D3 |
| The Muse may give thee but the gods must guide | D3 |
| Rev'rent I touch thee but with honest zeal | Q2 |
| To rouse the watchmen of the public weal | Q2 |
| To virtue's work provoke the tardy Hall | Q2 |
| And goad the prelate slumbering in his stall | Q2 |
| Ye tinsel insects whom a court maintains | Q |
| That counts your beauties only by your stains | Q |
| Spin all your cobwebs o'er the eye of day | A |
| The Muse's wing shall brush you all away | A |
| All his grace preaches all his lordship sings | Q |
| All that makes saints of queens and gods of kings | Q |
| All all but truth drops dead born from the press | Q |
| Like the last gazette or the last address | Q |
| - | |
| When black ambition stains a public cause | Q |
| A monarch's sword when mad vain glory draws | Q |
| Not Waller's wreath can hide the nation's scar | N |
| Nor Boileau turn the feather to a star | N |
| - | |
| Not so when diadem'd with rays divine | B |
| Touch'd with the flame that breaks from Virtue's shrine | B |
| Her priestess Muse forbids the good to die | Q2 |
| And opes the temple of Eternity | Q |
| There other trophies deck the truly brave | K2 |
| Than such as Anstis casts into the grave | K2 |
| Far other stars than and wear | N |
| And may descend to Mordington from Stair | N |
| Such as on Hough's unsullied mitre shine | B |
| Or beam good Digby from a heart like thine | B |
| Let Envy howl while Heaven's whole chorus sings | Q |
| And bark at honour not conferr'd by kings | Q |
| Let Flattery sickening see the incense rise | Q |
| Sweet to the world and grateful to the skies | Q |
| Truth guards the poet sanctifies the line | B |
| And makes immortal verse as mean as mine | B |
| - | |
| Yes the last pen for freedom let me draw | N |
| When truth stands trembling on the edge of law | N |
| Here last of Britons let your names be read | U2 |
| Are none none living let me praise the dead | U2 |
| And for that cause which made your fathers shine | B |
| Fall by the votes of their degenerate line | B |
| - | |
| F Alas alas pray end what you began | B |
| And write next winter more 'Essays on Man ' | - |
| - | |
| - | |
| - | |
| VARIATIONS | Q |
| - | |
| VER in the MS | Q |
| - | |
| I grant it sir and further 'tis agreed | Z2 |
| Japhet writ not and Chartres scarce could read | U2 |
| - | |
| After VER in the MS | Q |
| - | |
| Where's now the star that lighted Charles to rise | Q |
| With that which follow'd Julius to the skies | Q |
| Angels that watch'd the Royal Oak so well | Q2 |
| How chanced ye nod when luckless Sorel fell | Q2 |
| Hence lying miracles reduced so low | Q2 |
| As to the regal touch and papal toe | Q2 |
| Hence haughty Edgar's title to the main | B |
| Britain's to France and thine to India Spain | B |
| - | |
| VER in the MS | Q |
| - | |
| Quit quit these themes and write 'Essays on Man ' | - |
Alexander Pope
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About Epilogue[177] To The Satires. In Two Dialogues. Dialogue Ii
Epilogue[177] To The Satires. In Two Dialogues. Dialogue Ii is a poem by Alexander Pope. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.