While the fire burns, the gains are quickly made,
And freely flow the profits of the trade;
Nay, when the fierceness fails, these artists blow
The dying fire, and make the embers glow,
As long as they can make the smaller profits flow: 
At length the process of itself will stop,
When they perceive they’ve drawn out every drop. 
Yet, I repeat, there are who nobly strive
To keep the sense of moral worth alive;
Men who would starve, ere meanly deign to live
On what deception and chican’ry give;
And these at length succeed; they have their strife,
Their apprehensions, stops, and rubs in life;
But honour, application, care, and skill,
Shall bend opposing fortune to their will. 
   Of such is Archer, he who keeps in awe
Contending parties by his threats of law: 
He, roughly honest, has been long a guide
In Borough-business, on the conquering side;
And seen so much of both sides, and so long,
He thinks the bias of man’s mind goes wrong: 
Thus, though he’s friendly, he is still severe,
Surly, though kind, suspiciously sincere: 
So much he’s seen of baseness in the mind,
That, while a friend to man, he scorns mankind;
He knows the human heart, and sees with dread,
By slight temptation, how the strong are led;
He knows how interest can asunder rend
The bond of parent, master, guardian, friend,
To form a new and a degrading tie
’Twixt needy vice and tempting villainy. 
Sound in himself, yet when such flaws appear,
He doubts of all, and learns that self to fear: 
For where so dark the moral view is grown,
A timid conscience trembles for her own;
The pitchy-taint of general vice is such
As daubs the fancy, and you dread the touch. 
   Far unlike him was one in former times,
Famed for the spoil he gather’d by his crimes;
Who, while his brethren nibbling held their prey,
He like an eagle seized and bore the whole away. 
   Swallow, a poor Attorney, brought his boy
Up at his desk, and gave him his employ;
He would have bound him to an honest trade,
Could preparations have been duly made. 
The clerkship ended, both the sire and son
Together did what business could be done;
Sometimes they’d luck to stir up small disputes
Among their friends, and raise them into suits: 
Though close and hard, the father was content
With this resource, now old and indolent: 
But his young Swallow, gaping and alive
To fiercer feelings, was resolved to thrive:  —
“Father,” he said, “but little can they win,
Who hunt in couples where the game is thin;
Let’s part in peace, and each pursue his gain,
Where it may start—­our love may yet remain.” 
The parent growl’d, he couldn’t think that love
Made the young cockatrice his den remove;
But, taught by habit, he the truth suppress “d,
Forced a frank look, and said he “thought it best.” 
Not long they’d parted ere dispute arose;