Sir, does a beggar know his dish?
I lov'd him, as I told you, I
Advis'd him--here a stander-by
Twitch'd Damon gently by the cloke,
And thus unwilling silence broke:
Damon, 'tis time we should retire,
The man you talk with is Matt. Prior.

Patron, thro' life, and from thy birth my friend,
Dorset, to thee this fable let me send:
With Damon's lightness weigh thy solid worth;
The foil is known to set the diamond forth:
Let the feign'd tale this real moral give,
How many Damons, how few Dorsets live!

Mr. Prior, after the fatigue of a length of years past in various
services of action, was desirous of spending the remainder of his days
in rural tranquility, which the greatest men of all ages have been
fond of enjoying: he was so happy as to succeed in his wish, living a
very retired, and contemplative life, at Downhall in Essex, and found,
as he expressed himself, a more solid, and innocent satisfaction among
woods, and meadows, than he had enjoyed in the hurry, and tumults
of the world, the courts of Princes, or the conducting foreign
negotiations; and where as he melodiously sings,

The remnant of his days he safely past,
Nor found they lagg'd too slow, nor flew too fast;
He made his wish with his estate comply,
Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.