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Defpuat in Mores; Penemque Arcanaque Lumbi
Runcantem; populo marcentes pandere Vulvas.

Tu cum Maxillis balanatum Gaufape pectas,

Inguinibus quare detonfus Gurgulio extat ?
Quinque Palaftrite licet hæc Plantaria vellant,
Elixafque Nates labefactent Forcipe aduncâ,
Non tamen ifta Filix ullo manfuefcit Aratro,

Cædimus, inque Vicem præbemus Crura fagittis : Vivitur hoc Pacto: Sic novimus. Ilia fubter,

Cæcum Vulnus habes; fed lato Balteus Auro

Prætegit: ut mavis, da Verba, et decipe Nervos,

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Si potes. Egregium cum Me Vicinia dicat,

Non credam ? vifo fi palles, improbe, Nummo;
Si facis, in Penem quicquid Tibi venit amarum;
Si pateal multa cautus Vibice flagellas;
Nequicquam Populo bibulas donaveris Aures.

Refpue quod non es: tollat fua munera Cerdo:

Tecum habita, et noris quam fit Tibi curta Supellex.

Finis QUARTA SATIRE.

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THE

FIFTH SATIRE

OF

PERSIUS.

The ARGUMENT.

THIS Satire is confessedly the most valuable of all the Six. Perfius, in the first part of it, expatiates in the Praises of Annæus Cornutus, a famous Stoic, whe had been his Preceptor in Philofophy; and, in that Station, had deferved, from his Scholar, not only the highest Acknowledgments, but the tendereft Affection. He then exborts others likewife, to pursue the fame Methods himself had done; that fo they might attain to true Wisdom, and by that Means arrive at real Freedom. For with the Stoics it was a Maxim, that all Men but the Wife were actually Slaves.' This Point Perfius maintains to the End of the Satire, against an Opponent, who, having received

his Freedom at the Hands of the Prætor, would, therefore, needs infift that he was now a Slave no longer. A Confequence, which the Author will by no Means allow him: for where is the Difference (Jays be) whether you remain in Subjection to the Commands of a Mafter, or to the Tyranny of a Paffion? What avails it, your having got rid of one Lord, if you ftill continue a Slave to twenty? Namely, to Ambition, to Avarice, to Luxury, to Superftition, &c.

Perfius. for a hundred Pair of brazen Lungs !
O

O for a hundred Mouths, a hundred Tongues!"

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"Tis thus our Bards, whate'er high Theme they chuse, By Cuftom taught, addrefs the favourite Mufe: Whether fome boistrous, buskin'd Plot they form, To rend the Actor's Throat with tragic Storm; Or elfe, in Epic, fing the Parthian's Smart, Extracting from his Groin the Roman Dart.

The fame

my Wifh

Cornutus.

-Thine too, my Perfius! thine?

With all these Voices, what canft thou defign?

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What

What huge Heroics, in thy Bofom pent,
Demand a hundred Throats, to give them vent?
To Bards alone of fuftian Race, belong

Thefe Fogs of Helicon, thefe Flights of Song:

Bards! who, to frighted Theatres, reveal
The tragic Horrors of Thyeftes' Meal;

Or know to cook fam'd Progne's bloody Treat;
Where witless Glycon, oft and oft, must eat.

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Their labouring Lungs, like heaving Bellows, ftrain,

To ply that ever-working Forge, their Brain:

* With inward Murmurs, croak their solemn Throats,

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Hoarse as the boding Raven's rufty Notes:

Their very Cheeks, apt Emblems of their Mind;
Still big with Tempefts of imprison'd Wind.

Ver. 16. &c. Thyeftes-Progne-Glycon.] Glycon was fome wretched Tragedian of thofe Times, who acted the Parts of Atreus and Thyeftes; and accordingly represented both of them as eating their own Children. That horrid Entertainment is faid to have been prepared for Atreus, by his Wife Progne.

* See Sat. III, V. 197.

H 2

But

But no Bombaft deforms thy natural Line;

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Mild and familiar, is each Word of thine.

A juft Connexion fmooths thy nervous Page;

No Madness there, no mouthing empty Rage.
With happy Skill, knows thy Satiric Hand

The pale Offender's guilty Front to brand:

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Thy well-bred Raillery, gives wholesom Smart;

And mends the Morals, while it fshames the Heart.

Thy Talent this: this still do thou profess;

The bloody tragic Feaft, let others dress:

Thee, the plain Follies of a common Board,

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Much better fuit, much fitter Theme afford.

Pers. With pompous Trash to swell the frothy Line, Is not indeed, my Friend! What I defign.

No noify Nothings ftudious to indite,

To thee, Cornutus, thee alone I write.

Fain would the Mufe lay open to thy Teft,

Each latent Thought, each Winding of my Breast:

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There,

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