7* LOVE of FAME, Sat. IV.

For ever whisp’ring secrets, which were blownFor months before, by trumpets, thro’ the town?"Who'd be a glass, with flattering grimace,

Still to reflect the temper of his face;

Or happy pin to flick upon his sleeve,

When my Lord’s gracious, and vouchsafes it leave 5Or cushion, when his heaviness shall pleaseTo loll, or thump it for his better ease;

Pr a vile butt , for noon, or night bespoke,

When the peer rajhly swears he’ll club his joke?Who’d shake with laughter, tho’ he cou’d not findHis Lordship's jest; or, if his nose broke wind,For blessings to the Gods profoundly bow,

— That can cry chimney-sweep, or drive a plough ?H With terms like these how mean theTribe that clofelf Scarce meaner They, who terms, like these, impose .

But

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