Ambition, Av'rice, Vanity, and Pride,
The Passions which to publick Business guide,
That medling Man less idle may be made,
Shou'd him to Rest and Solitude perswade;
From Industry, impertinent and vain,
To Ease and Leisure send him back again;
Prefering Privacy, and silent Joys,
To Popularity, and empty Noise:
Since all the Rest and Freedom, which the Great,
Or Rich, can find, is in obscure Retreat;
Life's happy'st State, and best Establishment,
For wild Ambition but destroys Content.
Honour and Wealth, the Joys we seek, deny
By their Encrease, and their Variety;
And more confound our Choice than satisfie:
Officious, bold Disturbances they grow,
That interrupt our Peace, and work our Woe:
Make Life a Scene of Pain, and constant Toil,
And all our Days in fresh Pursuits embroil.

But if to Solitude we turn our Eyes,
To View a thousand real Blessings rise;
Pleasures sincere, and unallay'd with Pain,
An easie Purchase, but an ample Gain!
There Censure, Envy, Malice, Scorn, or Hate,
Cannot affect Us in our tranquil State:
Those Cankers that on busie Honour prey,
And all their Spight on active Pomp display.

Alone, remov'd from Grandeur and from Strife,
And ev'ry Curse that loads a publick Life,
In Safety, Innocence, and full Repose,
Man the true Worth of his Creation knows.
Luxurious Nature's Wealth in Thought surveys,
And meditates her Charms, and sings her Praise.
To him, with humble Privacy content,
Life is, in Courts, and gawdy Pride, mis-spent.
To him, the Rural Cottage does afford
What he prefers to the Patrician Board:
Such wholsome Foods as Nature's Wants supply,
And ne'er reproach him with his Luxury
He traverses the blooming verdant Mead,
Nor envies those that on rich Carpets tread.
Basks in the Sun, then to the Shades retires,
And takes a Shelter from his pointed Fires.
Wak'd by the Morning-Cock, unseals his Eyes,
And sees the Rusticks to their Labours rise;
And in the Ev'ning, when those Labours cease,
Beholds them cheary eat the Bread of Peace:
Sees no foul Discords at their Banquets bred,
Nor Emulations, nor Disgusts succeed:
But all is quiet, jocund, and serene,
A Type of Paradise, the Rural Scene!
Here may he sit, and on the Rocky Shore
See distant Storms, and hear the Billows roar,
And count the Wrecks on the tost Ocean spread,
Safe from each Surge that curls its ridgy Head.
Here he may laugh, in Privacy and Ease,
At guilty Grandeur, and its Fopperies;
At the big Knaves of State, that toil and sweat;
Promotion, little worth their Toil, to get.
And, pleas'd, congratulates himself to find
His Happiness cannot be undermin'd;
That he to no Dependance owes his Joy,
Which Chance, or Want of Int'rest might destroy.
Thus as his prudent Privacy is more,
He's most Himself, and least in Fortune's Pow'r.
Still, as his Aims are less, has more Content,
And still is safer, as more innocent.
For all true Happiness, we must confess,
Is more, as it depends on Others less.
His Happiness we then must greatest own,
When it depends upon Himself alone.
Since all that we true Happiness allow,
Is None, 'till it our Satisfaction grow:
And happy, or unhappy, there are none,
As in the Thoughts of Others, but their own.
For nothing to us is, or Good, or Bad,
As in its self, but our own Thoughts 'tis made.

Then if safe Innocence we wou'd acquire,
Gain Ease and Peace, at which we All aspire,
We from the World, and Mankind shou'd retire;
Ambition, Avarice, alike forego,
And leave our Equals, and Superiors too;
Proud of Retreat, and Solitude, shou'd grow,
The more the disappointing World we know;
Since there we true Felicity possess,
And boast our Joys the greater, Fears the less.
More Ease, Peace, Safety to our selves we gain,
As we from Publick Commerce more abstain;
And ev'n as Trees, when they at Distance grow,
Less Mischief to each other's Roots can do:
So Men in Solitude the better thrive,
And least each other of Support deprive.
Then since base Man is Man's worst Foe, we find,
We wisely ought to shun all Humane-kind.
No Foes, or no Competitors to know,
Out of the World we from Mankind should go.
Our Danger by our close Recess prevent,
So with less Fear to live and more Content.

Besides, how vainly do we drudge in Life,
And tread the Circles of uneasie Strife!
Poor Mortals break their present Rest, and Peace,
For the sole Hopes of future, lasting, Ease.
The Busie, Proud, by Arts or Arms aspire
To gain the World but from it to retire.
Abroad the Soldier, and the Merchant roam,
But with more Peace and Rest to live at Home:
At Home the Lawyer with his Pleas takes Pain,
But his Quietus by his Toil to gain.
Heroes the Publick serve at Sea and Land,
To have but more the Publick at Command;
And after sit in sweet Retirement down,
And boast their Freedom, and their Lives their own;
Hazards they seek, but safely to possess
The Fruits of all their Bustle, and Distress:
Conquer in War, but to triumph in Peace;
And run into Disquiet but for Ease.
For Ease, in Peace or War, both active grow,
And labour on, to have no more to do;
Unthinking that their Ease is in their Power,
Cou'd each resolve to toil for It no more,
Could each their Plagues in vain Pursuits prevent,
And find their Peace and Plenty in Content.
Since but most happy, as most pleas'd is he,
Who none more happy than himself can see,
That is, the Man who lives content alone,
Pleas'd with his Company (since but his own)
And if pleas'd with himself, in want of none.

Thus Solitude is the best State for All
The Rich, the Poor, Proud, Humble, Great and Small,
In which the Proud has no Competitor,
The Rich no Sharer of his hoarded Store.
In which the Poor, the Weak, the Helpless find
No proud Oppressors their low State to grind.
In which the Great, who can no Rivals bear,
Sleep undisturb'd, and are without 'em there:
There the Distress'd a sure Azilum boast,
And Slaves of Business to the World are lost.
The weak Protection find, and Rest the Great,
Which none can find in any other State;
There Love and Honour can in private lie,
Without Distrust, Fear, Force, or Enmity.
Freedom and Ease on Solitude attend,
Safe from a threatning Foe, or treach'rous Friend.
Wherein no Change the happy Man can know,
And th' Innocent continues to be so,
Nay, ev'n the Guilty innocent may grow.

If Safety, then, and Innocence, and Peace,
And Freedom, with no slothful healthless Ease,
In Solitude without Invaders are,
And Men, from fewer Neighbours, less should fear,
The solitary Life, of Course, should go
For the most Wise, most Safe, and Happy too;
Where Men in Peace and Temperance may find
Their Health, and Ease of Body, and of Mind;
Far from th' Infection of the Crowd withdraw,
And shun the Quacks in Physick, Faith and Law.

The Poor, and Just, and Wise, in Solitude
Are safe, on them no Doctors e'er intrude;
With plund'ring Visits making poor the Friend,
Whose Cure alone the artful Cheats pretend.
They too are safe from the Insulting Proud,
Who ever trample down th' Inferior Crowd:
The Weak then safest in Retirement are,
Safest the Poor too, as they less appear.
If then we would our Sense or Virtue prove,
We to a peaceful Desert must remove:
Run from the Throng to some secure Recess,
Where dwell no Priests to make our Faith yet less;
While, lewd in Conduct, they the Gown debase,
And all their Doctrines, by their Lives, disgrace:
Where too no Swarms of wrangling Lawyers are,
By Law the Course of Justice to debar.

But ev'n as Birds, in narrow Cages pent,
Droop for their Mates in sullen Discontent;
Who, added, clog the little Domes the more,
And make them closer Pris'ners than before:
Thus on each other Men but more intrude,
As they would more divert their Solitude.
For Men in Towns, as Birds in Cages fare,
And by more Numbers more polluted are:
While those, who perch above, this Pleasure know,
They for their Ease defile the rest below.
Thus Men in Crowds the worst Infections gain,
By which Man grows ev'n a Disease to Man
Then as Diseases of the Flesh to shun,
We from the Crowd to open Air should run:
To 'scape the Mind's Plagues, as the Bodies, so
We from the tainted Multitude should go:
And wisely imitate the feather'd Race,
Who, to sing better, chuse the freer Space.
No mad Ambition e'er did Birds engage
To seek Captivity, and court the Cage;
But baser Thoughts Men meanly entertain,
Who barter Liberty for fordid Gain;
And in a State of Slav'ry shuffle on,
Yoak'd by some Project from high Hopes begun;
'Till of each other they in Time grow sick,
And find the Union makes them Splenatick.
Then, wise too late, they would their Fault retrieve,
And all Companions, and all Business leave.

Add to all this, that ev'ry Humane Breast
By such a Train of Passions is possest;
That still our Envy, Av'rice, or our Love,
Make us unsocial to all Others prove.
Thus, worse than Brutes, whom Instinct only guides,
True to our selves, we're false to all besides.
With open Hate, or Craft conceal'd pursue,
Sure to betray, or forcibly undo.
But Savage Beasts, by Nature's Law conjoyn'd,
(To others Foes) are loving to their Kind.
Man only does on his own Species turn,
And with a Rancour unextinguish'd burn.

Then Solitude, that does our Crimes restrain,
Restores us to our Innocence again;
Makes each unruly Passion sink away,
Wanting the Objects which should give them Play:
Whereas the active and the busie Life
Keeps each conflicting Appetite in Strife;
To conquer which Herculean Labour were,
Since Passions Hydra 's of the Mind appear;
When one you scarce have with much Labour sped,
You find two others rising in its stead.
Thus our Ambition's Work can ne'er be done,
Since two Desires we raise in quelling one.
Heroes have thus their Labour for their Pains,
Their Courage but new Dangers for 'em gains;
Whose Toils the greater by great Actions grow,
Since each bold Act provokes a future Foe;
Besides still as we go the busy Round,
We but our own Felicity confound:
And by the proud Deliriums of the Mind,
Our selves to one unceasing Slav'ry bind.
For as we grasp at Pomp, and wide Controul,
We give up all the Quiet of our Soul.
Mistaken Man, as his Command is more,
Has less his Time, or Fortune, in his Pow'r;
Whilst all the Gains he can from Grandeur boast,
Is to rule Some, yet have his Freedom lost:
Crush'd too in his o'er-weaning Thoughts of Pride,
Oft is his Glory by his Claim deny'd;
Whilst he from proud Superiors can't acquire
That equal Rank to which his Hopes aspire;
Nor will his Equals on him Praise bestow,
By which above 'em in Esteem he'd grow;
Nor will Inferiors e'er his Fame increase,
Since magnifying his, makes theirs the less:
If his Superiors then his Converse share,
He must from them a Diminution bear;
If with his Equals most he spends his Life,
He must be subject to Reproach or Strife;
And if he with Inferiors still does keep,
As more familiar, he becomes more cheap.
The Proud and Selfish then should live alone,
Whose Pride above themselves can suffer none;
Since all Society will, more or less,
Contribute their Ambition to depress;
While some grow boldly slack in their Respect,
And others view their Grandeur with Neglect.

If then so soon the Great and Powerful fail,
And Vapour-like, almost e'er seen, exhale:
How ought the Poor Distrest the World to quit,
But to prevent their being left by it?
Fools too shou'd leave it, to be counted wise,
The Wise, that none their Wisdom might despise,
Since none can long what they are us'd to prize.
The luckless Man should his vain Hopes give o'er,
That his Desires may cheat themselves no more:
Those too that taste good Fortune in Excess,
Taught to believe her frail Duration less,
Should from her Fondness fear her Fickleness.

The Proud, Rich, Poor, the Fool, Wise, Small and Great,
Shou'd from the World, to seek their Ends, retreat:
Since in the World none Great or Good appear,
Or Just, or Honest, Wise, or Happy are,
But for their Knowledge of themselves and it,
Which best they prove, as it they soonest quit:
And as they with most Willingness withdraw,
Since they must once by Nature's settled Law.
They who themselves of publick Life deprive,
Interr'd in peaceful Solitude alive,
Alive enjoy the Privilege of Death,
Safe from Oppression's Hand, or Envy's Breath;
And here secure Joy, Innocence and Rest,
The only things that here make Mortals blest:
Thus to the World before their Death can die,
And grant themselves an Immortality.

Well might the various World be call'd a Stage ,
And Life a Play in ev'ry Turn of Age,
Where no Man's Part another's does excel,
As Good, or Bad, but acted Ill, or Well;
As Great, or Small, but useful more or less,
And more conducing to instruct and please.
Then since a publick Part of any Sort
Who undertakes, must prove the publick Sport,
Must act in Tragicks , or appear the Jest,
He chuses sure the wisest Part, and best,
Who takes the shortest Character to play,
And which may least his Want of Skill betray.
His tiresome Talk there soonest done, he so
May a Spectator from an Actor grow:
May so himself, not others, entertain,
And laugh to see the busier Mimick 's Pain.
Since on the World, as on the Theatre,
It wiser much, and nobler does appear
The Right of passing Censure to maintain,
Than stand the censur'd Actor in the Scene:
For 'tis the Pleasure of the envious Age
To mock each Actor on Life's common Stage;
Then we should least turn Actors, least to be
The Marks of this ill-natur'd Mockery.
Besides, our Parts and Judgment best are shown,
As to the carping World we live unknown;
Since none (but when alone) can wisely live,
Or can themselves from Errors undeceive:
And since Free-thinking by the Headstrong Crowd,
And busie, is not in the World allow'd;
Tho' without Thought, none that they live can know,
We from the World, to know it more, shou'd go.
For Men the busie idle World shou'd quit,
To know themselves best, and what's done in it.
As from the thronging Multitude got free,
We best, at distance, all their Actions see.
Men, when they herd, tame Animals appear,
And keep together less for Love than Fear:
But when alone, and from the Crowd remov'd,
Their Fears are leffen'd, and their Joys improv'd;
And self-sufficient in that tranquil State,
They feel no Troubles, and they make their Fate.
Whilst in the World we still Disturbers find,
Both of our Bodies Ease, and Peace of Mind;
And must a thousand Hazards undergo
From a distrustful Friend, or trusted Foe.
But here unforc'd, or Wrongs to do, or take,
We need no Foe to fear, no Friend to make:
Living with Heav'n in near Intelligence,
Thus ev'n on Earth we Gods of Men commence:
In Peace, Rest, Joy, (our earlier Heav'n below)
In Want of All, no Want at all to know.