DRYDEN, embolden'd by his sturdy Muse, Comes in drab jacket, and with hobnail'd shoes; Arm'd with an oaken club, the moral Clown, Your vices to correct, will knock you down. POPE with his sword and bag, in Court array, By polish'd manners wins his easy way, Thrusts his keen rapier with so secure an aim, Knaves feel abash'd, and are reform'd by shame. T.
