Trims Europe's balance, tops the statesman's part,
And talks Gazettes and Poltboys o'er by heart.
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 ev'ry place entail'd for years to come
In fure fucceffion to the day of doom:
He names the price for ev'ry office paid,
And fays our wars thrive ill becaufe delay'd:
Nay hints 'tis by connivance of the Court
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a port. 165
Not more amazement feiz'd on Circe's guests,
To fee themselves fall endlong into beasts,
Than mine, to find a fubject, stay'd and wife,
Already half-turn`d traitor by surprize.
I felt th' infection flide from him to me,
As in the pox fome give it to get free;
Speaks of all states and deeds that have been fince
The Spaniards came to th' lofs of Amyens.
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 privileg'd spy, whom nothing can
Difcredit, libels now 'gainst each great man.
He names a price for ev'ry office paid:
He faith, our wars thrive ill, because delay'd;
That offices are in tail, and that there are
Perpetuities of them lafting as far
As the laft day, and that great officers
Do with the Spaniards fhare and Dunkirkers.
Who waftes in meat, in cloaths, in horfe he notes;
Who loves whores.
I, more amaz'd than Circe's prifoners, when
They felt themfelves turn beafts, felt myself then
Becoming traitor, and methought I faw
One of our giant ftatues ope his jaw
To fuck me in for hearing him: I found,
That as burnt venomous leachers do grow found
And quick to fwallow me methought I saw
One of our giant ftatues ope its jaw.
In that nice moment, as another lie
Stood just a-tilt, the mintter 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.
I quak'd at heart; and, ftill afraid to fee
All the Court fill'd with stranger things than he,
Ran out as fast 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 folitude, the nurse of fenfe,
Where Contemplation prunes her ruffi'd wings,
And the free foul looks down to pity kings!
By giving others their fores, I might grow
Guilty, and he free: therefore I did thow
All figns of loathing; but fince I am in,
I must pay mine and my forefathers' fin
To the last farthing: therefore to my power
Toughly and ftubbornly I bear this crofs: but th' hour
Of mercy now was come: he tries to bring
Me to pay a fine to 'fcape his torturing,
And fays, Sir, can you fpare me? I faid, willingly.
Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I
Gave it as ranfom. But as fiddlers ftill,
Tho' they be paid to be gone, yet needs will
Thruft one more jigg upon you; fo did he
With his long complemental thanks vex me.
But he is gone, thanks to his needy want,
And the prerogative of my crown.
Scant
His thanks were ended, when I (which did fee
All the court fill'd with fuch ftrange things as he)
Ran from thence with fuch or more hafte than one
Who fears more actions doth hafte from prison.
At home in wholefome folitarinefs
My piteous foul began the wretchedness
There fober thought purfu'd th' amusing theme,
Till fancy colour'd it, and form'd a dream.
A vifion hermits can to hell tranfport,
And forc'd e'en me to fee the damn'd at Court.
Not Dante, dreaming all th' infernal state,
Beheld fuch fcenes of envy, fin, and hate.
Bafe fear becomes the guilty, not the free,
Suits tyrants, plunderers, but fuits not me.
Shall I, the terror of this finful Town,
Care if a liv'ry lord or fmile or frown?
Who cannot flatter, and deteft who can,
Tremble before a noble ferving-man?
O my fair mistrels, Truth! fhall I quit thee
For huffing, braggart, puft nobility?
Thou who, fince yesterday, haft 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 shew 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!
Of fuitors at Court to mourn, and a trance
Like his who dreamt he faw hell did advance
Itself o'er me: fuch men as he faw there
I faw at Court, and worfe, and more. Low fear
Becomes the guilty, not th' accufer; then
Shall I, none's flave, of high born or rais'd men
Fear frowns, and, my mistress, Truth! betray thee
To th' huffing, braggart, puft nobilitie?
No, no; thou which fince yesterday haft been
Almost about the whole world, halt thou seen,
O Sun in all thy journey, vanity,
Such as fwells the bladder of our Court? I
Thinks he which made your waxen garden, and
Tranfported it from Italy, to stand
With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for
Just such gay painted things, which no fap nor
Such waxen nofes, ftately 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 so fine.
That's velvet for a king! the flatt'rer 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 states; they beg but better dreft,
And all his fplendid poverty at best.
Painted for fight, and effenc'd for the smell,
Like frigates fraught with spice and cochineal,
Sail in the ladies: how each pirate eyes
So weak a veffel and fo rich a prize!
Tafte have in them, ours are; and natural
Some of the stocks are, their fruits bastard all.
'Tis ten a-clock, and past; all whom the meuse,
Baloun, 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 fweet their apparels be, as be
The fields they fold to buy them. For a king
Thofe hofe are, cries the flatt'rer; and bring
Them next week to the theatre to fell.
Wants reach all ftates. Me feems they do as well
At ftage as Court. All are players; whoe'er looks
(For themselves dare not go) o'er Cheapside books,
Shall find their wardrobe's inventory. Now
The ladies come. As pirates, which do know
That there came weak fhips fraught with cochineal,
The men board them, and praife (as they think) well
Their beauties; they the mens' wits: both are bought.
Why good wits: ne'er wear fcarlet gowns I thought.
Top-gallant he and the in all her trim,
He boarding her, the ftriking fail to him.
Dear Countefs! you have charms all hearts to hit!
And, fweet Sir Fopling! you have so much wit!
Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for nought,
For both the beauty and the wit are bought.
'Twould burst e'en Heraclitus with the spleen
To fee thofe antics, Fopling and Courtin:
The prefence feems, with things fo richly odd,
The mofque of Mahound, or fome queer pagod.
See them furvey their limbs by Durer's rules,
Of all beau-kind the best proportion'd fools!
Adjust their clothes, and to confeffion draw
Thofe venial fins, an atom, or a straw:
But, oh what terrours muft diftract the foul
Convicted of that mortal crimea hole?
Or fhould one pound of powder less bespread
Those monkey tails that wag behind their head;
Thus finifh'd, and corrected to a hair,
They march, to prate their hour before the fair.
So first to preach a white glov'd chaplain goes,
With band of lily, and with cheek of rose,
This caufe; thefe men mens' wits for fpeeches buy,
And women buy all reds which fcarlets dye.
He call'd her beauty lime-twigs, her hair net:
She fears her drugs ill laid, her hair loose set.
Would n't Heraclitus laugh to see Macrine
From hat to shoe himself at door refine,
As if the prefence were a Moschite; and lift
His fkirts and hofe, and call his clothes to shift,
Making them confefs not only mortal
Great tains and holes in them, but venial
Feathers and duft, wherewith they fornicate?
And then by Durer's rules furvey the state
Of his each limb, and with ftrings the odds tries
Of his neck to his leg, and waift to thighs.
So in immaculate clothes and symmetry
Perfect as circles, with fuch nicety
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