Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/443

 You cannot wish for coaches, kitchens, cooks —" "My lord, I've not enough to buy me books — Or pray, suppose my wants were all supplied, Are there no wants I should regard beside? Whose breast is so unmann’d, as not to grieve, Compass'd with miseries he can't relieve? Who can be happy — who should wish to live, And want the godlike happiness to give? That I'm a judge of this, you must allow: I had it once — and I'm debarr’d it now. Ask your own heart, my lord; if this be true, Then how unblest am I! how blest are you!" "'Tis true — but, doctor, let us wave all that — Say, if you had your wish, what you'd be at." "Excuse me, good my lord — I won't be sounded, Nor shall your favour by my wants be bounded. My lord, I challenge nothing as my due, Nor is it fit I should prescribe to you. Yet this might Symmachus himself avow, (Whose rigid rules are antiquated now) — My lord! I'd wish to pay the debts I owe — I'd wish besides — to build, and to bestow." AN