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But, as the Fool that in reforming days
Would

go

to Mass in jest (as story says)
Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
Since 'twas no form'd design of serving God;
So was I punish'd, as if full as proud,
As prone to ill, as negligent of good,
As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
As vain, as idle, and as false, as they
Who live at Court, for going once that way!
Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there came
A thing which Adam had been pos'd to name;
Noah had refus’d it lodging in his Ark,
Where all the Race of Reptiles might embark ;
A verier monster, than on Afric's fhore
The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore,

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Or

To Mafs in jest, catch'd, was fain to disburse
Two hundred markes which is the Statutes curse,
Before he scap'd ; so it pleas'd my deftiny
(Guilty of my sin of going) to think me
As prone to all ill, and of good as forget-
ful, as proud, luftfull, and as much in debt,
As vain, as witless, and as false, as they
Which dwell in Court, for once going that way.

Therefore I suffer'd this; towards me did run
A thing more strange, than on Nile's flime the Sun
E'er bred, or all which into Noah's Ark came:
A thing which would have pos'd Adam to name :

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Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous shelves contain,
Nay, all that lying Travellers can feign.
The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,
At night would swear him dropt out of the Moon.
One, whom the mob, when next we find or make
A popish plot, shall for a Jesuit take,
And the wise Justice starting from his chair
Cry, By your Priesthood tell me what you are ?

Such was the wight: Th' apparel on his back,
Though coarse, was reverend, and tho' bare, was black:
The suit, if by the fashion one might guess, 40
Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess,
But mere tuff-taffety what now remain d;
So Time, that changes all things, had ordain'd!

Our

Stranger than seven Antiquaries studies,
Than Africk Monsters, Guianaes rarities,
Stranger than strangers : one who, for a Dane,
In the Danes Massacre had sure been slain,
If he had liv'd then ; and without help dies,
When next the Prentices 'gainst strangers rise;
One, whom the watch at noon lets scarce go by;
One, to whom the examining Justice sure would cry,
Sir, by your Priesthood, tell me what

you arc? His cloaths were strange, though coarse, and black,

though bare,
Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been
Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seen)
Become Tufftaffaty; and our children shall
See it plain rafh a while, then nought at all,

Our fons fhall see it leisurely decay,
First turn plain rash, then vanish quite away.

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This thing has travel'd, speaks each language too,
And knows what's fit for every state to do;
Of whofe best phrase and courtly accent join'd,
He forms one tongue, exotic and refin'd.
Talkers I've learn'd to bear ; Motteux I knew, 50
Henley himself I've heard, and Budgel too.
The Doctor's wormwood style, the Hath of tongues
A Pedant makes, the storm of Gonson's lungs,
The whole Artillery of the terms of War,
And (all those Plagues in one) the bawling Bar; 55
These I could bear; but not a rogue so civil,
Whose tongue will compliment you to the devil.
A tongue, that can cheat Widows, cancel scores,
Make Scots speak treason, cozen subtlest whores,

With

tast;

The thing hath travail’d, and faith, speaks all tongues,
And only knoweth what to all States belongs,
Made of th' accents, and best phrase of all these,
He speaks one language. If strange meats displease,
Art can deceive, or hunger force

my
But pedants mötly tongue, soldiers bumbast,
Mountebanks drug-tongue, nor the terms of law,
Are strong enough preparatives to draw
Me to hear this, yet I must be content
With his tongue, in his tongue call’d Complement :
In which he can win widows, and pay scores,
Make men speak treason, couzen subtlest whores,

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With royal Favourites in flattery vie,

60 And Oldmixon and Burnet both outlie.

He spies me out; I whisper, Gracious God! What sin of mine could inerit such a rod ? That all the shot of dulness now must be From this thy blunderbuss discharg'd on me! Permit (he cries) no stranger to your fame To crave your sentiment, if 's your name. What Speech esteem you most ? “ The King's,” said I. But the best words ?" O Sir, the Dictionary." You miss my aim ! I mean the most acute

70 And perfect Speaker ?" Onslow, past dispute." But, Sir, of writers ? “ Swift, for closer style, “ But Hoadly for a period of a mile.” Why yes, 'tis granted, these indeed may pass : Good common linguists, and so Panurge was ; 75

Nay

Outflatter favourites, or outlie either
Jovius, or Surius, or both together.

He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God,
How have I finn'd, that thy wrath's furious Rod,
This fellow, chuseth me! He faith, Sir,
I love your Judgment, whom do you prefer
For the best Linguist? and I feelily
Said that I thought Calepines Dictionary.
Nay, but of men, most sweet Sir? Beza then,
Some Jesuits, and two reverend men
Of our two academies I nam'd. Here
He stopt me, and said, Nay your Apostles were
VOL. II.

т

Nay troth th' Apostles (though perhaps too rough)
Had once a pretty gift of Tongues enough:
Yet these were all poor Gentlemen! I dare
Affirin, 'twas 'Travel made them what they were.

Thus, others talents having nicely shown, 80
He came by sure transition to his own :
Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself so able,
Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel;
For had they found a linguift half so good,
I make no question but the Tower had stood.

“ Obliging Sir! for Courts you sure were made: " Why then for ever bury'd in the fhades

Spirits like you, should see and hould be seen, “ The King would smile on you at least the Queen." Ah gentle Sir! you Courtiers so cajole us

90 But Tully has it, “ Nunquam minus folus ;"

And

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Good pretty Linguists; fo Panurgus was.
Yet a poor Gentleman ; all these may pass
By travail. Then, as if he would have sold
His tongue, he prais’d it, and such wonders told,
That I was fain to say, If you had livid, Sir,
Time enough to have been Interpreter
To Babel's Bricklayers, fure the Tower had stood.

He adds, If of Court life you knew the good,
You would leave loneless. I said, Not alone
My loneness is; but Spartanes fashion
To teach by painting drunkards doth not last
Now, Aretine's pictures have made few chalte ;

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