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No commentator can more slily pass

O'er a learn'd unintelligible place;

Or in quotation shrewd divines leave out

Those words, that would against them clear the doubt.

So Luther thought the Pater-noster long, When doom'd to say his beads and even-song? But having cast his cowl, and left those laws, Adds to Christ's pray'r the Pow'r and Glory clause. The lands are bought; but where are to be found Those ancient woods that shaded all the ground? We see no new built palaces aspire,

No kitchens emulate the Vestal fire.

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Where are those troops of poor that throng'd of yore The good old landlord's hospitable door?

Well, I could wish that still, in lordly domes,

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Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs ;

When Luther was profest, he did desire
Short Pater-nosters, saying as a fryer,

Each day his beads; but having left those laws,
Adds to Christ's pray'r the Power and Glory clause)
But when he sells, or changes land, h' impairs
His writings, and (unwatch'd) leaves out ses beres,
And slily, as any commentor, goes by
Hard words, or sense; or in divinity

As controverters in vouch'd texts leave out

Shrewd words, which might against them clear the

doubt.

[tofore

Where are those spread wocds which cloth'd hereThose bought lands? not built, nor burnt within door

That both exremes were banish'd from their walls, Carthusian fasts and fulsome Bacchanals;

And all mankind might that just mean observe,

In which none e'er could surfeit, none could starve.
These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow,
But, oh! these works are not in fashion now:
Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare,
Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.

Thus much I've said, I trust without offence;
Let no court sycophant pervert my sense,
Nor sly informer watch, these words to draw
Within the reach of treason, or the law.

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Where the old landlord's troops and alms? In halls
Carthusian fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals
Equally I hate. Means blest. In rich men's homes
I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs:

None starve, none surfeit so. But (oh!) w'allow
Good works as good, but out of fashion now,

Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none draws
Within the vast reach of th' huge statute-law.

SATIRE IV.

WELL, if it be my time to quit the stage,
Adieu to all the follies of the age!

I die in charity with fool and knave,
Secure of peace---at least beyond the grave.
I've had my purgatory here betimes,
And paid for all my satires, all my rhymes.
The poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
To this were trifles, toys, and empty names.
With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd,
Nor the vain itch t' admire, or be admir'd;
I hop'd for no commission from his Grace;
I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place;
Had no new verses, nor new suit to show,
Yet went to Court !---the devil would have it so.

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SATIRE IV.

WELL; I may now receive and die. My sin

Indeed is great; but yet I have been in

A Purgatory, such as fear'd hell is

A recreation, and scant map of this.

My mind, neither with pride's itch, nor hath been
Poison'd with love to see, or to be seen.

I had no suit there, nor new suit to show,

Yet went to court: but as Glare which did go

Volume 111.

Q

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, and 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 posed 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 shore
The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore,

To mass in jest, catch'd, was fain to disburse
Two hundred marks, which is the statute's curse,
Before he 'scap'd; so 't pleas'd my destiny
(Guilty of my sin of going) to think me
As prone to all ill, and of good as forget-
Full, as proud, lustful, 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 slime the sun
E'er bred, or all which into Noah's ark came;
A thing which would have pcs'd Adam to name:
Stranger than seven antiquaries' studies,
Than Afric's monsters, Guiana's rarities;

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Or Sloane, or Woodward's wondrous shelves contain, Nay, all that lying travellers can feign.

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The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,

At night would swear him dropp'd 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: the apparel on his back,
Tho' coarse, was rev'rend; and tho' bare was black:
The suit, if by the fashion one might guess,
Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess,

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But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd;

So Time, that changes all things, had ordain'd!
Our sons shall see it leisurely decay,

First turn plain rash, then vanish quite away.

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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, t' whom th' examining justice sure would cry,
'Sir, by your priesthood, tell me what you aré !'
His cloaths were strange, tho' coarse, and black, tho'
Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been [bare;
Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seen)
Become tuff-taffety; and our children shall
See it plain rash awhile, then nought at all.

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