And yet how expreffive and fignificant,
In damme at once to curfe, and swear, and rant!
As if no way exprefs'd men's fouls fo well,
As damning of them to the pit of hell ;
any affeveration were fo civil,
As mortgaging falvation to the devil;
Or that his name did add a charming grace,
And blafphemy a purity to our phrase.
For what can any language more enrich,
Than to pay fouls for viciating fpeech;
When the great'ft tyrant in the world made those
But lick their words out that abus'd his profe?
What trivial punishments did then protect
To public cenfure a profound refpect,
When the most fhameful penance, and severe,
That could b'inflicted on a Cavalier
For infamous debauchery, was no worse
Than but to be degraded from his horse,
And have his livery of oats and hay,
Instead of cutting spurs off, tak'n away ?
They held no torture then so great as shame,
And that to flay was lefs than to defame;
For juft fo much regard as men express
To th' cenfure of the public, more or less,
The fame will be return'd to them again,
In fhame or reputation, to a grain;
And, how perverfe foe'er the world appears,
'Tis just to all the bad it fees and hears;
And for that virtue ftrives to be allow'd
For all the injuries it does the good.
How filly were their fages heretofore,
To fright their heroes with a fyren whore !
Make them believe a water-witch, with charms,
Could fink their men of war as easy' as storms,
And turn their mariners, that heard them fing,
Into land porpuffes, and cod and ling;
To terrify thofe mighty champions,
As we do children now with Bloodybones ; ·
Until the fubtleft of their conjurers
Seal'd up the labels to his foul, his ears,
And ty'd his deafen'd failors (while he pass'd
The dreadful lady's lodgings) to the maft,
And rather venture drowning than to wrong
The fea-pugs' chafte ears with a bawdy fong:
To b' out of countenance, and, like an afs,
Not pledge the Lady Circe one beer-glass ;
Unmannerly refufe her treat and wine,
For fear of being turn'd into a fwine,
When one of our heroic adventurers now
Would drink her down, and turn her int' a sow !
So fimple were thofe times, when a grave fage
Could with an old-wife's tale inftruct the age,
Teach virtue more fantastic ways and nice,
Than ours will now endure t' improve in vice;
Made a dull fentence, and a moral fable,
Do more than all our holdings-forth are able,
A forc'd obfcurè mythology convince,
Beyond our worst inflictions upon fins ;
When an old proverb, or an end of verfe,
Could more than all our penal laws coerce,
And keep men honester than all our furies
Of jailors, judges, conftables, and juries;
Who were converted then with an old faying,
Better than all our preaching now, and praying.
What fops had thefe been, had they liv'd with us,
Where the best reafon's made ridiculous,
And all the plain and fober things we fay,
By raillery are put befide their play?
For men are grown above all knowledge now,
And what they 're ignorant of difdain to know
Engrofs truth (like Fanatics) underhand,
And boldly judge before they understand;,
The felf-fame courfes equally advance
In fpiritual and carnal ignorance,
And, by the fame degrees of confidence,
Become impregnable against all fense;
For, as they outgrew ordinances then,
So would they now morality again.
Though Drudgery and Knowledge are of kin,
And both defcended from one parent, Sin,
And therefore feldom have been known to part,
In tracing out the ways of Truth and Art,
Yet they have north-weft paffages to steer
A short way to it, without pains or care:
For, as implicit faith is far more stiff
Than that which understands its own belief,
So thofe that think, and do but think they know,
Are far more obftinate than thofe that do,
And more averse than if they 'ad ne'er been taught
A wrong way, to a right one to be brought;,
Take boldness upon credit beforehand,
Believe themselves as knowing and as famous,
And grow too positive to understand;
As if their gifts had gotten a mandamus,
A bill of ftore to take up a degree,
With all the learning to it, custom-free,
And look as big for what they bought at Court,
As if they 'ad done their exercises for 't.
HAT fool would trouble fortune more,
When she has been too kind before;
Or tempt her to take back again
What he had thrown away in vain,
By idly venturing her good graces
To be difpos'd of by ames-aces;
Or fettling it in truft to uses
Out of his power, on trays and deuces;
To put
I' th' ballot of a box and dye,
Whether his money be his own,
And lose it, if he be o'erthrown ;
As if he were betray'd, and set
By his own stars to every cheat,
Or wretchedly condemn'd by Fate
To throw dice for his own eftate;
it to the chance, and try,
As mutineers, by fatal doom,
Do for their lives upon a drum?
For what lefs influence can produce
So great a monfter as a chouse,
Or any two-legg'd thing poffefs
With fuch a brutish fottishness? -
Unless those tutelary stars,
Intrusted by astrologers
To have the charge of man, combin'd
To use him in the felf-fame kind;
As thofe that help'd them to the trust,
Are wont to deal with others juft.
For to become fo fadly dull
And ftupid, as to fine for gull
(Not as, in cities, to b' excus'd,
But to be judg'd fit to be us'd),
That whofoe'er can draw it in
Is fure inevitably t' win,
And, with a curs'd half-witted fate,
To grow more dully defperate,
The more 'tis made a common prey,
And cheated foppishly at play,
Is their condition; Fate betrays
To folly first, and then destroys.
For what but miracles can ferve.
So great a madness to preserve,
As his, that ventures goods and chattels
(Where there's no quarter given) in battles,
And fights with money-bags as bold,
As men with fand-bags did of old;
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