what pity, in rearing so beauteous a system,

one trifling particular, truth, should have miss'd him;

for, spite of his fine theoretic positions,

mankind is a science defies definitions.

some sort all our qualities each to its tribe,

and think human nature they truly describe;

have you found this, or t'other? there's more in the wind;

as by one drunken fellow hisrades you'll find.

but such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan,

in the make of that wonderful creature called man,

no two virtues, whatever relation they claim.

nor even two different shades of the same,

though like as was ever twin brother to brother,

possessing the one shall imply you've the other.

but truce with abstraction, and truce with a muse

whose rhymes you'll perhaps, sir, ne'er deign to peruse:

will you leave your justings, your jars, and your quarrels,

contending with billy for proud-nodding laurels?

my much-honour'd patron, believe your poor poet,

your courage, much more than your prudence, you show it:

in vain with squire billy for laurels you struggle:

he'll have them by fair trade, if not, he will smuggle:

not cabinets even of kings would conceal 'em,

he'd up the back stairs, and by god, he would steal 'em,

then feats like squire billy's you ne'er can achieve 'em;

it is not, out-do him—the task is, out-thieve him!