Let your respects and services agree,
And be proportion'd to the quality
Of him, to whom these services you pay.
Is he your father? Know you must obey,
And cherish him, considering all his care
For you, when weak and helpless yet you were;
And bear with him in all things, knowing how
Nature oblig'd him to be kind to you:
All this to gratitude itself is due.
He heard your peevish brawling, strove to allay
Your childish wrath, and wip'd your tears away;
And can't you bear an angry word, or blow
From one so indulgent, one that lov'd you so?
Who gave you being, who may well be said
Twice to have given you life in that he fed,
In that with so much tenderness he bred
Your younger years?
Oh! But, (perhaps you'll say)
'He's wicked and severe, I can't obey.

A lame excuse, let him be what he will,
Morose, or wicked, he's your father still:
Whate'er his morals are, he may expect
From you at least a filial respect;
You can't believe that nature's bound to find
A parent for you suited to your mind.
Well, but you think your brother injures you;
You ask me here what nature bids you do?
Nature obligeth you to pass it by,
Bids you neglect the fancy'd injury,
Nor mind what's done by him, but bids you shew
The hearty love you to your brother owe.
Which can't be shewn by more commodious light,
Than when you oppose your goodness to his spight;
And what long since I told you, think on still,
Now one can injure you against your will;
The wrong you suffer doth from fancy grow,
You then are hurt when you imagine so.
If by this steady balance then you try
The mutual duties of society,
Which men to men, neighbours to neighbours owe,
Which soldiers to their general should shew,
Which citizens should pay their magistrate
You'll grant they're to be paid without debate,
Offence, or envy, prejudice, or hate.