Advice to the Marquis of Rockingham

Well may they, Wentworth, call thee young;
What, hear and feel! sift right from wrong,
And to a wretch be kind!
Old statesmen would reverse your plan.
Sink, in the minister, the man,
And be both deaf and blind.

If thus, my Lord, your heart o'erflows,
Know you, how many mighty foes
Such weakness will create you?
Regard not what Fitzherbert says.
For though you gain each good man's praise,
We older folks shall hate you.

You should have sent, the other day,
Garrick, the player, with frowns away;
Your smiles but made him bolder:
Why would you hear his strange appeal.
Which dared to make a statesman feel?—
I would that you were older.

You should be proud, and seem displeased,
Or you forever will be teased.
Your house with beggars haunted:
What, every suitor kindly used?
If wrong, their folly is excused,
If right, their suit is granted.

From pressing words of great and small
To free yourself, give hopes to all.
And fail nineteen in twenty:
What, wound my honour, break my word?
You're young again, — you may, my Lord,
Have precedents, in plenty!

Indeed, young Statesman, 'twill not do,—
Some other ways and means pursue,
More fitted to your station:
What from your boyish freaks can spring?
Mere toys!—The favour of your king,
And love of all the nation.