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No. 055 [from The Spectator]
by [?]

No. 55
Thursday May 3, 1711.
‘… Intus, et in jecore aegro

Nascuntur Domini …’


Most of the Trades, Professions, and Ways of Living among Mankind, take their Original either from the Love of Pleasure or the Fear of Want. The former, when it becomes too violent, degenerates into Luxury, and the latter into Avarice. As these two Principles of Action draw different Ways, Persius has given us a very humourous Account of a young Fellow who was rouzed out of his Bed, in order to be sent upon a long Voyage, by Avarice, and afterwards over-persuaded and kept at Home by Luxury. I shall set down at length the Pleadings of these two imaginary Persons, as they are in the Original with Mr. Dryden’s Translation of them.
Mane, piger, stertis: surge, inquit Avaritia; eja
Surge. Negas, Instat, surge inquit. Non queo. Surge.
Et quid agam? Rogitas? Saperdas advehe Ponto,
Castoreum, stuppas, hebenum, thus, lubrica Coa.
Tolle recens primus piper e siliente camelo.
Verte aliquid; jura. Sed Jupiter Audiet. Eheu!
Baro, regustatum digito terebrare salinum
Contentus perages, si vivere cum Jove tendis.
Jam pueris pellem succinctus et aenophorum aptas;
Ocyus ad Navem. Nil obstat quin trabe vasta
AEgaeum rapias, nisi solers Luxuria ante
Seductum moneat; quo deinde, insane ruis? Quo?
Quid tibi vis? Calido sub pectore mascula bilis
Intumuit, quam non extinxerit urna cicutae?
Tun’ mare transilias? Tibi torta cannabe fulto
Coena sit in transtro? Veientanumque rubellum
Exhalet vapida laesum pice sessilis obba?
Quid petis? Ut nummi, quos hic quincunce modesto
Nutrieras, pergant avidos sudare deunces?
Indulge genio: carpamus dulcia; nostrum est
Quod vivis; cinis, et manes, et fabula fies.
Vive memor lethi: fugit hora. Hoc quod loquor, inde est.
En quid agis? Duplici in diversum scinderis hamo.
Hunccine, an hunc sequeris!—-

Whether alone, or in thy Harlot’s Lap,
When thou wouldst take a lazy Morning’s Nap;
Up, up, says AVARICE; thou snor’st again,
Stretchest thy Limbs, and yawn’st, but all in vain.
The rugged Tyrant no Denial takes;
At his Command th’ unwilling Sluggard wakes.
What must I do? he cries; What? says his Lord:
Why rise, make ready, and go streight Aboard:
With Fish, from Euxine Seas, thy Vessel freight;
Flax, Castor, Coan Wines, the precious Weight
Of Pepper and Sabean Incense, take
With thy own Hands, from the tir’d Camel’s Back,
And with Post-haste thy running Markets make.
Be sure to turn the Penny; Lye and Swear,
‘Tis wholsome Sin: But Jove, thou say’st, will hear.
Swear, Fool, or Starve; for the Dilemma’s even:
A Tradesman thou! and hope to go to Heav’n?

Resolv’d for Sea, the Slaves thy Baggage pack,
Each saddled with his Burden on his Back.
Nothing retards thy Voyage, now; but He,
That soft voluptuous Prince, call’d LUXURY;
And he may ask this civil Question; Friend,
What dost thou make a Shipboard? To what End?
Art thou of Bethlem’s noble College free?
Stark, staring mad, that thou wouldst tempt the Sea?
Cubb’d in a Cabbin, on a Mattress laid,
On a brown George, with lousy Swobbers fed;
Dead Wine, that stinks of the Borachio, sup
From a foul Jack, or greasy Maple Cup!
Say, wouldst thou bear all this, to raise the Store,
From Six i’th’ Hundred to Six Hundred more?
Indulge, and to thy Genius freely give:
For, not to live at Ease, is not, to live:
Death stalks behind thee, and each flying Hour
Does some loose Remnant of thy Life devour.
Live, while thou liv’st; for Death will make us all,
A Name, a Nothing but an Old Wife’s Tale.
Speak, wilt thou Avarice or Pleasure choose
To be thy Lord? Take one, and one refuse.