Who, swoln with selfish vanity, devise,
False freedoms, holy cheats, and formal lies,
Over their fellow-slaves to tyrannize.
But if in court so just a man there be,
(In court a just man! yet unknown to me)
Who does his needful flattery direct,
Not to oppose and ruin, but protect;
Since flattery, which way soever laid,
Is still a tax on that unhappy trade;
If so upright a statesman you can find,
Whose passions bend to his unbias'd mind;
Who does his arts and policies apply
To raise his country, not his family;
Is there a churchman who on God relies,
Whose life his faith and doctrine justifies?
Not one, blown up with vain prelatic pride,
Who, for reproach of sins, does man deride;
Whose envious heart with saucy eloquence,
Dares chide at kings, and rail at men of sense;
Who from his Pulpit vents more peevish lies,
More bitter railings, scandals, calumnies,
Than at a gossiping are thrown about,
When the good wives get drunk, and then fall out;
None of the sensual tribe, whose talents lie
In avarice, pride, in sloth, and gluttony;
Who hunt good livings, but abhor good lives
Whose lust exalted, to that height arrives,
Ces adroits imposteurs qui, par de saintes fables, Veulent.tyranniser, garotter leurs semblables.
Si l'on peut cependant me montrer, à la cour, que je n'ai pu voir encor jusqu'à ce jour,
Un homme juste, sage, employant sa puissance
A réprimer le crime, à sauver l'innocence;
Ami des malheureux, ennemi des flatteurs,
Toujours inaccessible aux présens corrupteurs,
Et qui, dans le haut rang où sa sagesse brille,
Enrichit son pays et non pas sa famille,
-Si l'on peut me montrer encor, dans le clergé, Non un de ces prélats de richesses gorgé, Qui prêche les vertus en pratiquant les vices"," Qui, jamais bienfaisant, aime les bénéfices; Et de l'amour tout haut condamnant les écarts,
They act adultery with their own wives;
And e'er a score of years compleated be,
Can from the lofty pulpit proudly see
Half a large parish their own progeny.
But a meek humble man, of honest sense,
Who, preaching peace, does practise continence; Whose pious life's a proof he does believe Mysterious truths which no man can conceive;
If upon earth there dwell such godlike men, I'll here recant my paradox to them, Adore those shrines of virtue, homage pay, And with the rabble world their laws obey: If such there are, yet grant me this at least, Man differs more from man, than man from beast.
HUSBAND, thou dull unpity'd miscreant,
Wedded to noise, to misery and want;
Sold an eternal vassal for thy life,
Oblig'd to cherish and to hate thy wife!
Drudge on, till fifty, at thy own expence,
Breathe out thy life in one impertinence;
Voit tout son évêché peuplé de ses bâtards;
Mais un homme humble, doux, charitable, sincère, Chaste dans sa maison, modeste dans sa chaire, Et dont les saintes mœurs au monde fassent voir Qu'il croit aux vérités qu'il ne peut concevoir;
Ah! si cet homme-dieu se trouve sur la terre, L'auteur de cet ouvrage eût mieux fait de se taire. Il a tort, très-grand tort, j'en conviens de bon cœur; Oui, mais vous conviendrez alors, mon cher docteur, Qu'il est moins de distance entre l'homme et la bête, Qu'entre l'homme de bien et l'homme malhonnête.
MARI, toujours à plaindre et qu'on ne plaint jamais,
Marié pour le bruit, la honte et les regrets;
Esclave, làchement courbé sur une rame,
Forcé de caresser et de haïr ta femme;
Va, souffre, malheureux, jusqu'à tes derniers ans,
Pour une seule erreur, souffre tous les tourmens.
Repeat thy loath'd embraces ev'ry night,
Prompted to act by duty, not delight;
Christen thy forward bantling once a year,
And carefully thy spurious issue rear;
Go, once a week, to see the brat at nurse,
And let the young impostor drain thy purse;
Hedge-sparrow like, what cuckoos have begot,
Do thou maintain, incorrigible sot!
Oh! I could curse the pimp, who could do less, He's beneath pity, and beyond redress.
Pox on him! let him go! what can I say?
Anathemas on him are thrown away:
The wretch is married and has known the worst;
And his great blessing is, he can't be curs'd.
Marriage! o hell and furies! name it not
Hence, hence, ye holy cheats! a plot, a plot.
Marriage! 'tis but a licens'd way to sin,
A noose to catch religious woodcocks in ;
Or the nick-name of love's malicious fiend
Begot in hell to persecute mankind.
'Tis the destroyer of our peace and health;
Mis-spender of our time, our strength and wealth;
The enemy of valour, wit, mirth and all
That we can virtuous, good, or pleasant call.
By day, 'tis nothing but an endless noise,
By night, the echo of forgotten joys;
Abroad, the sport and wonder of the crowd,
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