Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/126

116 Let due reward to merit be allow'd; Nor with your kindred half the palace crowd; Nor think yourself secure in doing wrong, By telling noses with a party strong. Be rich; but of your wealth make no parade; At least, before your master's debts are paid; Nor in a palace, built with charge immense, Presume to treat him at his own expense. Each farmer in the neighbourhood can count To what your lawful perquisites amount. The tenants poor, the hardness of the times, Are ill excuses for a servant's crimes. With interest, and a premium paid beside, The master's pressing wants must be supplied; With hasty zeal behold the steward come By his own credit to advance the sum; Who, while th' unrighteous Mammon is his friend, May well conclude his power will never end. A faithful treasurer! what could he do more? He lends my lord what was my lord's before. The law so strictly guards the monarch's health, That no physician dares prescribe by stealth: The council sit; approve the doctor's skill; And give advice, before he gives the pill. But the state empirick acts a safer part; And, while he poisons, wins the royal heart. But how can I describe the ravenous breed? Then let me now by negatives proceed. Suppose your lord a trusty servant send On weighty business to some neighbouring friend: Presume not, Gay, unless you serve a drone, To countermand his orders by your own. Should some imperious neighbour sink the boats, And drain the fish-ponds, while your master dotes; Shall