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And the debauched'st actions they can do,

For just so mach regard as men express Mere trifles to the circumstance and show

To th' censure of the public, more or less, For 'tis not what they do that 's now the sin, The same will be return'd to them again, But what they lewdly affect and glory in.

In shame or reputation, to a grain ; As if preposterously they would profess

And, how perverse soe'er the world appears, A forc'd hypocrisy of wickedness,

'Tis just to all the bad it sees and hears,
And affectation, that makes good things bad, And for that virtue strives to be allow'd
Must make affected shame accurs'd and mad; For all the injuries it does the good.
For vices for themselves may find excuse,

How silly were their sages heretofore,
But never for their compliment and shews; To fright their heroes with a siren whore !
That if there ever were a mystery

Make them believe a water-witch, with charms, Of moral secular iniquity,

Could sink their men of war as easy as storms, And that the churches may not lose their due And turn their mariners, that heard them sing, By being encroach'd upon, 'tis now, and new : Into land-porpusses, and cod and ling; For men are now as scrupulous and nice,

To terrify those mighty champions, And tender-conscienc'd of low paltry vice,

As we do children now with Bloody bones ; Disdain as proudly to be thought to have

Until the subtlest of their conjurers To do in any mischief but the brave,

Seal'd up the labels to his soul, his ears, As the most scrupulous zealot of late times And tv'd his deafen'd sailors (while he pass'd T' appear in any but the horrid'st crimes; The dreadful lady's lodgings) to the mast, Have as precise and strict punctilios

And rather venture drowning, than to wrong Now to appear, as then to make no shows, The sea-pugs' chaste ears with a bawdy song: And steer the world, by disagreeing force

To b' out of countenance, and, like an ass, Of different customs, 'gainst her natural course : Not pledge the lady Circe one beer-glass; So powerful 's ill Example to encroach,

Unmannerly refuse her treat and wine, And Nature, spite of all her laws, debauch, For fear of being turn'd into a swine, Example, that imperious dictator,

When one of our heroic adventurers now Of all that 's good or bad to human nature, Would drink her down, and turn her int' a sow! By which the world 's corrupted and reclaim'd, So simple were those times, when a grave sage Hopes to be sav'd, and studies to be damn'd; Could with an old wife's tale instruct the age, That reconciles all contrarieties,

Teach virtue more fantastic ways and nice, Makes wisdom foolishness, and folly wise,

Than ours will now endure t'improve in vice; Imposes on divinity, and sets

Made a dull sentence, and a moral fable, Her seal alike on truths and counterfeits;

Do inore than all our holdings-forth are able, Alters all characters of virtue and vice,

A forc'd obscure mythology convince, And passes one for th’ other in disguise ;

Beyond our worst inflictions upon sins; Makes all things, as it pleases, understood, When an old proverb, or an end of verse, The good receiv'd for bad, and bad for good; Could more than all our penal laws coerce, That slyly counterchanges wrong and right, And keep men honester than all our furies Like white in fields of black, and black in white; Of jailors, judges, constables, and juries; As if the laws of Nature had been made

Who were converted then with an old saying, Of purpose only to be disobey'd;

Better than all our preaching now, and praying. Or man had lost his mighty interest,

What fops had these been, had they liv'd with us, By having been distinguish'd from a beast; Where the best reason 's made ridiculous, And had no other way but sin and vice,

And all the plain and sober things we say, To be restor'd again to Paradise.

By raillery are put beside their play? How copious is our language lately grown, For men are grown above all knowledge now, To make blaspheming wit, and a jargon!

And what they 're ignorant of disdain to know ; And yet how expressive and significant,

Engross truth (like fanatics) underhand,
In demme, at once to curse, and swear, and rant! And boldly judge before they understand;
As if no way express'd men's souls so well, The self-same courses equally advance,
As damning of them to the pit of Hell ;

In spiritual and carnal ignorance,
Nor any asseveration were so civil,

And, by the same degrees of confidence, As mortgaging salvation to the Devil;

Become impregnable against all sense; Or that his name did add a charming grace, For, as they outgrew ordinances then, And blasphemy a purity to our phrase.

So would they now morality again. For what can any language more enrich,

Though Drudgery and Knowledge are of kin, Than to pay souls for viciating speech;

And both descended from one parent, Sin, When the great'st tyrant in the world made those And therefore seldom have been known to part, But lick their words out that abus'd his prose ? In tracing out the ways of Truth and Art,

What trivial punishments did then protect Yet they have north-west passages to steer, To public censure a profound respect,

A short way to it, without pains or eare: When the most shameful penance, and severe, For, as implicit faith is far more stiff That could b'inflicted on a cavalier,

Than that which understands its own belief, For infamous debauchery, was no worse

So those that think, and do but think they know, Than but to be degraded from his horse,

Are far more obstinate than those that do, And have his livery of oats and hay,

And more averse than if they 'ad ne'er been taught. Instead of cutting spurs off, tak’n away?

A wrong way, to a right one to be brought;
They held no torture then so great as shame, Take boldness upon credit beforehand,
And that to slay was less than to defame;

And grow too positive to understand;

Believe themselves as knowing and as famous, But strive to ruin and destroy
As if their gifts had gotten a mandamus,

Those, that mistake it for fair play;
A bill of store to take up a degree,

That have their fulhams at command, With all the learning to it, custom-free,

Bronght up to do their feats at hand;
And look as big for what they bought at court, That nnderstand their calls and knocks,
As if they 'ad done their exercises for 't.

And how to place themselves i'th' box;
Can tell the oddses of all games,
And when to answer to their pames;
And, when he conjures them t'appear,

Like imps, are ready every where;

When to play foul, and when run fair

(Ont of design) upon the square, What fool would trouble Fortune more,

And let the greedy cully win, When she has been too kind before ;

Ouly to draw him further in; Or tempt her to take back again

While those with which he idly plays What she had thrown away in vain,

Have no regard to what he says, By idly venturing her good graces

Although he jernie and blaspheme, To be disposid of by ames-aces ;

When they miscarry, Heaven and them, Or settling it in trust to uses

And damn his soul, and swear, and curse, Out of his power, on trays and deuces;

And erucify his Saviour worse To put it to the chance, and try,

Than those Jew-troopers, that threw out, l'th' ballot of a box and die,

When they were raiting for his coat; Whether his money be his own,

Denounce revenge, as if they heard, And lose it, if he be o'erthrown;

And rightly understood and fear'd, As if he were betray'd, and set

And would take heed another time, By his own stars to every cheat,

How to commit so bold a crime; Or wretchedly condemn'd by Fate

When the poor bones are innocent To throw dice for his own estate;

Of all he did, or said, or meant, As inutineers, by fatal doom,

And have as little sense, almost, Do for their lives upon a drum?

As he that damns them when he 'as lost; For what less influence can produce

As if he had rely'd upon So great a monster as a chouse,

Their judgment rather than his own; Or any two-legg'd thing possess

And that it were their fault, not his, With such a brutish sottishness?

That manag'd them himself amiss, Unless those tutelary stars,

And gave them ill instructions how Intrusted by astrologers

To run, as he would have them do, To have the charge of man, combin'd

And then condemns them sillily
To use him in the self-same kind;

For having no more wit than he !
As those that belp'd them to the trust,
Are wont to deal with others just.
For to become so sadly dull
And stupid, as to fine for gull,
(Not, as in cities, to b’excus d,

But to be judg'd fit to be us'd)
That whosoe'er can draw it in

Great famous wit! whose rich and easy vein, Is sure inevitably twin,

Free, and unus'd to drudgery and pain, And, with a curs'd half-witted fate,

Has all Apollo's treasure at command, To grow more dully desperate,

And how good verse is coin'd do'st understand ; The more 'tis made a common prey,

In all Wit's combats master of defence ! And cheated foppishly at play,

Tell me, how dost thou pass on Rhyme and Sense! Is their condition; late betrays

"Tis said they apply to thee, and in thy verse To Folly first, and then destroys.

Do freely range themselves as volunteers, For what but miracles can serve

And without pain, or pumping for a word, So great a madness to preserve,

Place themselves fitly of their own accord. As his, that ventures goods and chattles

I, whom a loud caprich (for some great crime (Where there's no quarter given) in battles, I have committed) bas condemned to rhyme, And fights with money-bags as bold,

With slavish obstinacy vex my brain As men with sand-bags did of old ;

To reconcile them, but, alas! in vain. Puts lands, and tenements, and stocks,

Sometimes I set my wits upon the rack, Into a paltry juggler's box;

And, when I would say white, the verse says black; And, like an alderman of Gothain,

When I would draw a brave man to the life, Embarketh in so vile a bottom;

It names some slave, that pimps to his own wife, Engages blind and senseless hap

Or base poltroon, that would have sold liis daughter, 'Gainst high, and low, and slur, and knap,

If he had met with any to have bought her; (As Tartars with a man of straw

When I would praise an author, the untoward Encounter lions hand to paw)

Damn'd sense says Virgil, but the rhyme -; With those that never renture more

In fine, whate'er I strive to bring about, Than they had safely ensur'd before;

The contrary (spite of my heart) comes out. Who, when they knock the box, and shake, Sometimes, enrag'd for time and pains mispent, Do, like the Indian rattlesnake,

I give it over, tir'd, and discontent,


And, damning the dull hend a thousand times, And those whom all mankind admire for wit,
By whom I was possess'd, forswear all rhymes; Wish, for their own sakes, they had never writ.
But, having curs'd the Muses, they appear, Thou, then, that seest how ill I spend my time,
To be reveng'd for 't, ere I am aware.

Teach me, for pity, how to make a rhyme;
Spite of myself, I straight take fire again,

And, if th' instructions chance to prove in vain,
Fall to my task with paper, ink, and pen,

Teach how ne'er to write again.
And, breaking all the oaths I made, in vain
From verse to verse expect their aid again.
But, if my Muse or I were so discreet
Tendure, for rhyme's sake, one dull epithet,

I might, like others, easily command
Words without study, ready and at hand.

In praising Chloris, moons, and stars, and skies,

Are quickly made to match her face and eyes-
And gold and rubies, with as little care,

Who would not rather get him gone
To fit the colour of her lips and hair;

Beyond th' intollerablest zone,
And, mixing suns, and powers, and pearl, and stones, Or steer his passage through those seas
Make them serve all complexions at once.

That burn in flames, or those that freeze,
With these fine fancies, at hap-hazard writ, Than see one nation go to school,
I could make verses without art or wit,

And learn of another, like a fool ?
And, shifting forty times the verb and noun, To study all its tricks and fashions
With stol'n impertinence patch up mine own: With epidemic affectations,
But in the choice of words my scrupulous wit And dare to wear no mode or dress,
Is fearful to pass one that is unfit;

But what they in their wisdom please;
Nor can endure to fill up a void place,

As monkies are, by being taught
At a line's end, with one insipid phrase;

To put on gloves and stockings, caught;
And, therefore, when I scribble twenty times, Submit to all that they devise,
When I have written four, I blot two rhymes. As if it wore their liveries;
May he be damn'd who first found out that curse, Make ready and dress th’imagination,
Timprison and confine his thoughts in verse; Not with the clothes, but with the fashion ;
To hang so dull a clog upon his wit,

And change it, to fulfil the curse
And make his reason to his rhyme submit!

Of Adam's fall, for new, though worse; Without this plague, I freely might have spent To make their breeches fall and rise, My happy days with leisure and content;

From middle legs to middle thighs, Had nothing in the world to do or think,

The tropies, between which the hose
Like a fat priest, but whore, and eat, and drink; Move always as the fashion goes :
Had past my time as pleasantly away,

Sometimes wear hats like pyramids,
Slept all the night, and loiter'd all the day. And sometimes flat, like pipkins' lids;
My soul, that is free from care, and fear, and hope, With broad brims, sometimes, like umbrellas,
Knows how to make her own ambition stoop, And sometimes narrow, as Punchinello's:
T' avoid uneasy greatness and resort,

In coldest weather go unbrac'd,
Or for preferment following the court.

And close in hot, as if th' were lac'd; How happy had I been if, for a curse,

Sometimes with sleeves and bodies wide, The Fates had never sentenc'd me to verse ! And sometimes straiter than a hide: But, ever since this peremptory vein,

Wear peruques, and with false grey hairs With restless frenzy, first possess'd my brain, Disguise the true ones, and their years, And that the Devil tempted me, in spite

That when they 're modish, with the young Of my own happiness, to judge and write,

The old may seem so in the throng :
Shut up against my will, I waste my age

And, as some pupils have been known
In mending this, and blotting out that page, In time to put their tutors down,.
And grow so weary of the slavish trade,

So ours are often found to 'ave got
I envy their condition that write bad.

More tricks than ever they were taught : O happy Scudery! whose easy quill

With sly intrigues and artifices Can, once a month, a mighty volume fill;

Usurp their poxes and their vices; For, though thy works are written in despite With garnitures upon their shoes, Of all good sense, impertinent and slight,

Make good their claim to gouty toes; They never have been known to stand in need By sudden starts, and shrugs, and groans, Of stationer to sell, or sot to read;

Pretend to aches in their bones, For, so the rhyme be at the verse's end,

To scabs and botches, and lay trains No matter whither all the rest does tend.

To prove their running of the reins; Unhappy is that man who, spite of 's heart, And, lest they should seem destitute Is fored to be ty'd up to rules of art.

Of any mange that's in repute, A fop that scribbles does it with delight,

And be behind hand with the mode,
Takes no pains to consider what to write,

Will swear to crystallin and node;
But, fond of all the nonsense he brings forth, And, that they may not lose their right,
Is ravish'd with his own great wit and worth; Make it appear how they came by 't:
While brave and noble writers vainly strive Disdain the country where they were born,
To such a height of glory to arrive;

As bastards their own mothers scorn,
But, still with all they do unsatisfy'd,

And that which brought them forth contemn, Ne'er please themselves, though all the world beside: As it deserves, for bearing them;

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Admire whate'er they find abroad,

For, though to smatter ends of Greek But nothing here, though e'er so good:

Or Latin be the rhetorique Be natives wheresoe'er they come,

Of pedants counted, and vain-glorious, And only foreigners at home;

To smatter French is meritorious; To shich they appear so far estrangd,

And to forget their mother-tongue, As if they 'ad been i'th' cradle chang'd,

Or purposely to speak it wrong, Or from beyond the seas convey'd

A hopeful sign of parts and wit, By witches-not born here, but laid;

And that they improve and benefit; Or by outlandish fathers were

As those that have been taught amiss, Begotten on their mothers here,

In liberal arts and sciences, And therefore justly slight that nation,

Must all they 'ad learnt before in vain
Where they 've so mongrel a relation;

Forget quite, and begin again.
And seek out other climates, where
They may degenerate less than here;
As woodcocks, when their plumes are grown,
Bome on the wind's wings and their own,
Forsake the countries where they 're hatch'd,

And seek out others to be catch'd:
So they more naturally may please

'Tis pity Wine, which Nature meant And bumour their own geniuses,

To man in kindness to present, Apply to all things which they see

And gave him kindly, to caress With their own fancies best agree;

And cherish his frail happiness ; No matter how ridiculous,

Of equal virtue to renew 'Tis all one, if it be in use;

His wearied mind and body too; For nothing can be bad or good,

Should (like the cyder-tree in Eden, But as 'tis in or out of mode;

Which only grew to be forbidden) And, as the nations are that use it,

No sooner come to be enjoy'd,
All ought to practise or refuse it;

But th' owner 's fatally destroy'd ;
To observe their postures, move, and stand, And that which she for good design'd,
As they give out the word o' command ;

Becomes the ruin of mankind,
To learn the dullest of their whims,

That for a little vain excess And how to wear their very limbs;

Runs out of all its happiness, turn and manage every part,

And makes the friend of Truth and Love Like puppets, by their rules of art;

Their greatest adversary prove; To shrug discreetly, act, and tread,

T'abuse a blessing she bestow'd And politicly shake the bead,

So truly essential to his good, Until the ignorant, (that guess

To countervail his pensive cares, At all things by th' appearances)

And slavish drudgery of affairs; To see how Art and Nature strive,

To teach him judgment, wit, and sense, Beliere them really alive,

And, more than all these, confidence; And that they 're very men, not things

To pass his times of recreation That move by puppet-work and springs;

In choice and noble conversation, When truly all their feats have been

Catch truth and reason unawares, As well perform'd by motion-men,

As men do health in wholesome airs; And the worst drolls of Punchinellos

(While fools their conversants possess Were much th' ingeniouser fellows;

As unawares with sottishness) Por, when they 're perfect in their lesson,

To gain access a private way Th' hypothesis grows out of season,

To man's best sense, by its own key, And, all their labour lost, they 're faiņ

Which painful judges strive in vain To learn new, and begin again;

By any other course t’ obtain; To talk eternally and loud,

To pull off all disguise, and view And altogether in a crowd,

Things as they 're natural and true; No matter what; for in the noise

Discover fouls and knaves, allowd No man minds what another says:

For wise and honest in the crowd ; T assume a confidence beyond

With innocent and virtuous sport Mankind, for solid and profound,

Make short days long, and long nights short, And still, the less and less they know,

And mirth, the only antidote The greater dose of that allow:

Against diseases ere they 're got; Decry all things; for to be wise

To save health harmless from th' access Is not to knor, but to despise ;

Both of the med'cine and disease; And deep judicious confidence

Or make it help itself, secure Has still the odds of wit and sense,

Against the desperat'st fit, the cure. And can pretend a title to

All these subiime prerogatives Far greater things than they can do:

Of happiness to human lives, T'adorn their English with French scraps,

He vainly throws away and slights, And give their very language claps;

For madness, noise, and bloody figlits; To jernie rightly, and renounce

When nothing can decide, but swords l'th' pure and most approv'd-of tones,

And pots, the right or wrong of words, And, while they idly think t'enrich,

Like princes' titles; and he's outed Adulterate their native speech:

The justice of his cause that 's routed.


No sooner has a charge been sounded

For then 'twas but a civil contract made With-Son of a whore, and Damn'd confounded, Between two partners that set up a trade; And the bold signal given, the lie,

And if both fail'd, there was no conscience But instantly the bottles fly,

Nor faith invaded in the strictest sense ; Where cnps and glasses are small shot,

No canon of the church, nor vow, was broke, And cannon-ball a pewter-pot:

When men did free their gall'd necks from the yoke; That blood, that 's hardly in the vein,

But when they tir'd, like other horned beasts, Is now remanded back again;

Might have it taken off, and take their rests, Though sprung from wine of the same piece, Without being bound in duty to show cause, And near a-kin, within degrees,

Or reckon with divine or human laws. Strives to commit assassinations

For since, what use of matrimony has been On its own natural relations ;

But to make gallantry a greater sin ? And those twin-spirits, so kind-hearted,

As if there were no appetite nor gust, That from their friends so lately parted,

Below adultery, in modish lust; No sooner several ways are gone,

Or no debauchery were exquisite, But by themselves are set upon,

Until it has attain'd its perfect height. Surpris'd like brother against brother,

For men do now take wives to nobler ends, And put to th’sword by one another;

Not to bear children, but to bear the friends; So much more fierce are civil wars,

Whom nothing can oblige at such a rate Than those between mere foreigners !

As these endearing offices of late. And man himself, with wine possest,

For men are now grown wise, and understand More savage than the wildest beast !

How to improve their crimes as well as land; For serpents, when they meet to water,

And, if they ’ve issue, make the infants pay Lay by their poison and their nature:

Down for their own begetting on the day, And fiercest creatures, that repair,

The charges of the gossiping disburse, In thirsty deserts, to their rare

And pay beforehand (ere they 're boru) the nurse; And distant river's banks to drink,

As he that got a monster on a cow, In love and close alliance link,

Out of design of setting up a show, And from their mixture of strange seeds

For why should not the brats for all account, Produce new, never-heard-of breeds,

As well as for the christening at the fount, To whom the fiercer unicorn

When those that stand for them lay down the rate Begins a large health with his horn;

O'th' banquet and the priest in spoons and plate? As cuckolds put their antidotes,

The ancient Romans made the state allow When they drink coffee, into th' pots;

For getting all men's children above two: While man, with raging drink infamd,

Then married men, to propagate the breed, Is far more savage and untamd;

Had great rewards for what they never did, Supplies his loss of wit and sense

Were privileg'd, and highly honour'd too, With barbarousness and insolence;

For owning what their friends were fain to do; Believes himself, the less he 's able,

For so they 'ad children, they regarded not The more heroic and formidable;

By whom, (good men) or how, they were begot. Lays by his reason in his bowls,

To borrow wives (like money) or to lend, As Turks are said to do their souls,

Was then the civil office of a friend, Until it has so often been

And he that made a scruple in the case Shut out of its lodging, and let in,

Was held a miserable wretch and base; At length it never can attain

For when they 'ad children by 'em, th'honest men To find the right way back again;

Keturn'd them to their husbands back again. Drinks all his time away, and prunes

Then, for th' encouragement and propagation The end of 's life, as vignerons

Of such a great concernment to the nation, Cut short the branches of a vine,

All people were so full of complacence, To make it bear more plenty o' wine ;

And civil duty to the public sense, And that which Nature did intend

bey had no name t' express a cuckold then, T enlarge his life, perverts t' its end.

But that which signified all married men; So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on

Nor was the thing accouuted a disgrace, The mountain's top, his lofty haven,

Unless among the dirty populace, And all the passengers he bore

And no man understands on what account Were on the new world set ashore,

Less civil nations after hit upon 't: He made it next his chief design

For to be known a cuckold can be no To plant and propagate a vine ;

Dishonour but to him that thinks it so; Which since has overwhelm'd and drown'd

For if he feel no chagrin or remorse, Far greater numbers, on dry ground,

His forehead's shot-free, and he's ne'er the worset Of wretched mankind, one by one,

For horns (like horny callouses) are found
Than all the flood before had done.

To grow on sculls that have receiv'd a wound,
Are crackt, and broken; not at all on those,

That are invulnerate and free from blows.

What a brave time had cuckold-makers then,

When they were held the worthiest of men, Sure marriages were never so well fitted,

The real fathers of the commonwealth, As when to matrimony men were committed, That planted colonies in Rome itself ! Like thieves by justices, and to a wife

When he that help'd his neighbours, and begot Bound, like to good behaviour, during life: Most Romans, was the noblest patriot!

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