would die a martyr to sense in a country where the religion is
folly? You may stand at bay for a while; but when the full cry is
against you, you shan't have fair play for your life. If you can't
be fairly run down by the hounds, you will be treacherously shot by
the huntsmen. No, turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be
chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but
poet. A modern poet is worse, more servile, timorous, and fawning,
than any I have named: without you could retrieve the ancient
honours of the name, recall the stage of Athens, and be allowed the
force of open honest satire.

VAL. You are as inveterate against our poets as if your character
had been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently
bent upon the trade. [One knocks.] Jeremy, see who's there.
[JERE. goes to the door.] But tell me what you would have me do?
What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement?

SCAN. The world behaves itself as it uses to do on such occasions;
some pity you, and condemn your father; others excuse him, and blame
you; only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well, since love and
pleasurable expense have been your greatest faults.

VAL. How now?

JERE. Nothing new, sir; I have despatched some half a dozen duns
with as much dexterity as a hungry judge does causes at dinner-time.

VAL. What answer have you given 'em?

SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt.