Horace Lib. I. Epistle the Ninth.
Septimius, Claudi, nimirum, intelligit unus,
Quanti me facias. etc.
To the RIGHT HONOURABLE R--- H---, Esq;
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DEAR Dick, howe'er it comes into his Head,
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Believes, as firmly as he does his Creed,
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That You and I, SIR, are extremely great;
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Tho' I plain Matt, You Minister of State,
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One Word from me, without all doubt, he says
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Wou'd fix his Fortune in some little Place:
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Thus better than myself, it seems, he knows
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How far my Interest with my Patron goes,
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And answering all Objections I can make
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Still plunges deeper in his dear Mistake.
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From this wild Fancy, SIR, there may proceed
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One wilder yet, which I foresee and dread,
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That I, in Fact, a real Interest have,
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Which to my own Advantage I wou'd save,
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And with the usual Courtier's Trick intend
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To serve myself, forgetful of my Friend.
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To shun this Censure I all Shame lay by,
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And make my Reason with his Will comply,
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Hoping for my Excuse 'twill be confest,
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That of two Evils I have chose the least.
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So, SIR, with this Epistolary Scroll,
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Receive the Partner of my inmost Soul,
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Him you will find in Letters and in Laws
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Not unexpert; firm to his Countries Cause;
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Warm in the Glorious Interest you pursue;
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And, in one Word, a good Man and a true.
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