Like a big wife at fight of loathsome meat
Ready to caft, I yawn, I figh, and sweat.
Then as a licens'd spy, whom nothing can,
Silence or hurt, he libels the great Man;
Swears every place entail'd for years to come,
In fure fucceffion to the day of doom:
He names the price for every office paid,
And fays our wars thrive ill, because delay'd:
Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the Court,
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a Port.
Not more amazement seiz'd on Circe's guests,
To see themselves fall endlong into beasts,
Than mine to find a subject stay'd and wise
Already half turn'd traitor by surprize.
Like a big wife, at fight of loathed meat,
Ready to travail: fo I figh, and fweat
To hear this Makaron talk: in vain, for yet,
Either my humour, or his own to fit,
He like a priviledg'd spie, whom nothing can
Difcredit, libels now 'gainst each great man.
He names the price of every office paid;
He faith our wars thrive ill because delaid;
That Offices are intail'd, and that there are
Perpetuities of them, lasting as far
As the last day; and that great officers
Do with the Spaniards fhare, and Dunkirkers.
I more amaz'd than Circe's prisoners, when
They felt themselves turn beasts, felt myself then
I felt th' infection flide from him to me,
As in the pox, fome give it to get free;
And quick to swallow me, methought I saw
One of our Giant Statutes ope its jaw.
In that nice Moment, as another Lye
Stood juft a-tilt, the Minister came by.
To him he flies, and bows, and bows again,
Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train.
Not Fannius' felf more impudently near,
When half his nofe is in his Prince's ear.
Becoming Traytor, and methought I faw,
One of our Giant Statutes ope his jaw
To fuck me in for hearing him: I found
That as burnt venemous Leachers do
grow found
By giving others their fores, I might grow
Guilty, and he free: Therefore I did show
All figns of loathing; but fince I am in,
I must pay mine, and my forefathers fin
To the laft farthing. Therefore to my power
Toughly and ftubbornly I bear; but th' hower
Of mercy now was come: he tries to bring
Me to pay a fine to 'scape a torturing,
And says, Sir, can you spare me? I faid, Willingly;
Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I-
Gave it, as ranfom; but as fidlers, ftill,
Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will
Thrust one more jigg upon you: fo did he
With his long complimental thanks vex me.
I quak'd at heart; and, ftill afraid to fee
All the Court fill'd with ftranger things than he,
Ran out as faft as one that pays his bail,
And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
Bear me, fome God! oh quickly bear me hence
To wholesome Solitude, the nurse of Sense:
Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings,
And the free foul looks down to pity Kings!
There fober thought pursued th' amusing theme,
Till Fancy colour'd it, and form'd a Dream.
A Vifion hermits can to Hell transport,
And forc'd ev'n me to fee the damn'd at Court.
Not Dante, dreaming all th' infernal state,
Beheld fuch scenes of envy, fin, and hate.
Bafe Fear becomes the guilty, not the free;
Suits Tyrants, Plunderers, but fuits not me:
But he is gone, thanks to his needy want,
And the Prerogative of my Crown; fcant
His thanks were ended, when I (which did fee
All the Court fill'd with more ftrange things than he)
Ran from thence with fuch, or more hafte than one
Who fears more actions, doth haft from prison.
At home in wholefome folitarinefs
My piteous foul began the wretchedness
Of fuitors at court to mourn, and a trance
Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did advance
Itfelf o'er me; fuch men as he saw there
I faw at court, and worse and more. Low fear
Shall I, the Terror of this finful town,
Care, if a livery'd Lord or fmile or frown?
Who cannot flatter, and deteft who can,
Tremble before a noble Serving-man?
O my fair mistress, Truth! fhall I quit thee
For huffing, braggart, puft Nobility?
Thou, who fince yesterday hast roll'd o'er all
The bufy, idle blockheads of the ball,
Haft thou, oh Sun! beheld an emptier fort,
Than fuch as fwell this bladder of a court?
Now pox on those who show a Court in wax!
It ought to bring all Courtiers on their backs :
Such painted puppets! fuch a varnish'd race
Of hollow gewgaws, only drefs and face!
Becomes the guilty, not the accuser: Then,
Shall I, none's flave, of highborn or rais'd men
Fear frowns and my mistress Truth, betray thee
For th' huffing, bragart, puft nobility?
No, no, thou which since yesterday hast been,
Almost about the whole world, haft thou seen,
O fun, in all thy journey, vanity,
Such as fwells the bladder of our court? I
Think he which made your Waxen garden, and
Transported it from Italy, to ftand
With us, at London, flouts our Courtiers;
Juft fuch gay painted things, which no fap, nor
Taste have in them, ours are; and natural
Some of the ftocks are; their fruits baftard all.
Such waxen noses, stately staring things-
No wonder fome folks bow, and think them Kings.
See! where the British youth, engag'd no more,
At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a whore,
Pay their last duty to the Court, and come
All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room;
In hues as gay, and odours as divine,
As the fair fields they fold to look fo fine.
"That's Velvet for a King!" the flatterer fwears;
'Tis true, for ten days hence 'twill be King Lear's,
Our Court may justly to our stage give rules,
That helps it both to fools-coats and to fools.
And why not players ftrut in courtiers clothes?
For these are actors too, as well as those :
Wants reach all ftates: they beg but better dreft,
And all is fplendid poverty at best.
'Tis ten a Clock and paft; all whom the mues, Baloun, or tennis, diet, or the stews
Had all the morning held, now the second
Time made ready, that day, in flocks are found
In the Prefence, and I (God pardon me)
As fresh and sweet their Apparels be, as be
Their fields they fold to buy them. For a king
Those hose are, cry the flatterers: and bring
Them next week to the theatre to fell.
Wants reach all states: me feems they do as well
At stage, as courts; all are players. Whoe'er looks
(For themselves dare not go) o'er Cheapfide books,
|