wou'd sing Must Force and Fire and Indignation bring For 't is no Satyr if it has no sting In short who in that Field wou'd famous be Must think and write like Iuvenal and Thee Let others boast of all the mighty nine To make their Labours with more lustre shine I never had no other Muse but thee Ev'n thou wer 't all the mighty nine to me 'T was thy dear Friendship did my Breast inspire And warm'd it first with a Poetick Fire But 't is a warmth that does with thee expire For when the Sun is set that guides the day The Traveller must stop or lose his way To the Memory of Edmund Waller Esq. THough ne'r so base or never so sublime All human things must be the spoil of time Poet and Hero with the rest must go Their Fame may higher mount their dust must ly as low Thus mighty Waller is at last expir'd With Cowley from a vitious Age retir'd As much lamented and as much admir'd Long we enjoy'd him on his tuneful tongue All Ears and Hearts with the same rapture hung As if Heav'n had indited and an Angel sung Here the two bold contending Fleets are found The mighty Rivals of the wat'ry round In Smoak and Flame involv'd they cou'd not fight With so much force and fire as he does write Here Galatea mourns in such sad strains Poor Philomel her wretched Fate complains Here Fletcher and Immortal Iohnson shine Deathless preserv'd in his Immortal Line But where O mighty Bard where is that he Surviving now to do the same for Thee At such a Theme my conscious Muse withdraws Too weak to plead in such a weighty cause Whether for Peaceful Charles or Warlike Iames His Lyre was strung the Muse's dearest Themes Whether of Love's success when in the Eyes Of the kind Nymph the kindling glances rise When blushing she breaths short and with constraint denies Whether he paint the Lover's restless care Or Sacharissa the disdainful Fair Relentless Sacharissa deaf to Love The only she his Verse cou'd never move But sure she stopt her Ears and shut her Eyes He cou'd not else have miss'd the Heav'nly Prize All this is done with so much grace and care Hear it but once and you 'd for ever hear His Labours thus peculiar Glory claim As writ with something more than mortal flame Wit Judgment Fancy and a heat divine Throughout each part throughout the whole does shine The expression clear the thought sublime and high No flutt'ring but with even wing he glides along the Sky Some we may see who in their Youth have writ Good sense at fifty take their leave of wit Chimaera's and Incongruous Fables feign Tedious Insipid Impudent and Vain The Hinds and Panthers of a Crazy Brain But he when he through eighty years had past Felt no decay the same from first to last Death only cou'd his vig'rous Flame o'ercast Such was the Man whose loss we now deplore Such was the Man but we shou'd call him more Immortal in himself we need not strive To keep his sacred Memory alive Just Loyal Brave Obliging Gen'rous Kind The English Tongue he to the height refin'd his Legacy And the best Standard of it leaves behind To the Memory of Colonel Edward Cooke 'T Is Vertue which alone supports the whole For without that the World 's without a Soul Most certain then as it grows faint and weak Th' eternal Chain decays at last must break When great Cooke fell the jarring Links did twang And Nature sigh'd as if she felt the pang Nor is it strange For Vertue was his guide And scarce before so much e're with a votary dy'd In War he was nurs't up Arms his delight Courted in Peace and as much shun'd in fight Death he had seen in various shapes but none Cou'd move him to be fearful of his own Nor did old Age abate the martial Flame 'T was always great and always was the same His Charity did equally extend To cherish the distress'd and serve his Friend When he did good and who his Life surveys Will find he did delight in 't all his dayes 'T was for the sake of good and not for praise Restless Ambition ne'r his thought employ'd Peace and Conteet he sought and those enjoy'd Merit he priz'd though 't were in rags enshrin'd He look't not on the Person but the Mind His Judgment was unbyast clear and strong His Conversation pleasant gay and young But then his Mirth was still from Folly free Take all profane from Wit and that was he And as when Tygers range the Woods for prey And chance to meet a Lyon in their way Streight they forget their rage and learn t' obey So Atheous Men though they blasphem'd before Aw'd with his Presence their vain talk forbore For Piety was still his constant Guest And found its safest refuge in his Breast Such was his Life and now his Death we 'll shew His Death the greater wonder of the two For when the fatal pangs were drawing on And the last Sands were eager to be gone When all his Friends lay drown'd in tears of grief Wishing alas but hopeless of relief Ev'n he alone his Change with Patience bore Like all the Changes of his Life before No labouring sound no murmuring groan exprest But dy'd as weary Pilgrims go to rest O Pity pity some more able Quill Had not adorn'd this Theme with greater skill That Fame to late Posterity might tell Few Men can live but fewer dy so well To the Memory of M rs M. Peachley COme hither You who the fair Sex reproach And basely rail at what you can't debauch That in loose Satyr tell us of their Crimes And say they are the grievance of the Times Come hither all while in sad Funeral Verse Peachley's Immortal Vertues I reherse That you may see how very much you err Repent and learn how to be good by her Ev'n in her Youth her early worth did show To what a vast proportion it wou'd grow When Faith had taught her all she was to know On whose strong Wings she oft to Heav'n wou'd flee And by it find what can what cannot be Better than all their vain Philosophy Charming her Form and matchless was her Mind At least 't was something above Womankind Trace her through all the Series of her Life You 'l find her free from Envy Hate and Strife A Duteous Child and then a Vertuous Wife A careful Mother next and if we find Any regret for dying touch'd her mind It was to leave her Angel-Brood behind And not the love of Life O hapless young The World 's a Maze where you will sure go wrong Without the Clue of her Instructive tongue She wou'd have taught you when with cares perplext And lost in this World how to find the next O how shall we enough her Worth commend So good a Christian and so true a Friend She 'd take Offence but never wou'd offend Well read in History in Religion more
from Pride To gain their Loves I cou'd have dy'd But when I first your Eyes did view Streight to my Heart swift Magick flew Before your sweet obliging Air So fine your Shape and Face so fair All others Charms did disappear And were no longer what they were 2. So of the Stars that gild the Sky They 've Rev'rence paid from ev'ry Eye Not one but does deserve our Praise Not one but does our wonder raise Not one but what is gay and bright Able alone to Rule the Night Yet though so bright and glorious they All in a Moment's time decay Grow dim and seem to dy away When once Aurora opens day SONG VIII The unwilling Inconstant 1. THough She 's so much by all admir'd That ev'n cold Age is with her presence fir'd Yet by some more Resistless Art You raze her Image from my heart Which nothing nothing else but Death could part 2. Say quickly O enchanting Maid By what strange witchcraft I am thus betray'd Since She to whom I 've sworn is true I shou'd a high Injustice do To place what only she deserves on you 3. O try thou who without controul Hast shot thy glorious Form into my Soul Whose Eyes as soon as seen subdue O try to make me hate thee too But that alas is what you cannot do SONG IX Nothing wanting to Love. 1. YES Silvia I was told but now While on your Breast I lay My Head and thus obsequious bow I fool my Fame away That Glory while I thus do join My Lips and glowing Cheeks to thine Starts wide and cries She 'l ne're be mine 2. Let the false World true Passion blame And Heav'ns best Gift despise I 'de rather be the Fool I am Than without Love be wise Fame Glory and what e're we find That captivates th' Ambitious mind I have 'em all if thou art kind SONG X. The Result of Loving 1. CAeliâ— is cruel Silvia Thou I must confess art kind But in her Cruelty I vow I more repose can find For O thy Fancy at all Game does fly Fond of Address and willing to comply 2. Thus he that loves must be undone Each way on Rocks we fall Either you will be kind to none Or worse be kind to all Vain are our Hopes and endless is our Care We must be Jealous or we must despair SONG XI Prescription for Falshood YOU that have lov'd and too soon believ'd You that have lov'd and been deceiv'd No more complain For Grief is vain But make Musick with your Chain A sort of Melancholy Joy Nor rashly blame The perjur'd Dame That did your Peace destroy Though they the Paths to Falshood tread They yet but follow as they 're led They do but as their Mothers did Flatter smile deceive betray By certain Instinct go astray But e're since Eve We may perceive 'T was those that bore 'em shew'd the way Then blame 'em not but mourn with me That Females fair As Angels are Shou'd so destructive be And have so old a claim to Infidelity The end of the Songs LOVE-VERSES The Captive LOng I had laught at the vain name of Love Too weak to charm me and too dull to move It ne're cou'd make a Conquest of my heart Freedom and that were one and were too fond to part Freedom without whose aid ev'n Life wou'd tire And e're it reach't th' allotted Goal expire But ah too soon I found that Blessing gone Whose Loss I fear I must for ever moneâ— I saw her and no more one pointed view Softn'd my flinty Breast and pierc't it through and through O who can love's resistless Darts controul That through our Eyes so soon can reach the Soul Yet Liberty I 'll not thy Loss deplore I lov'd my Freedom well but love this Slav'ry more For though stern Caelia's Captive I remain And stoop my Neck to Love's Imperial Chain There 's a strange nameless Joy incorporate with the pain To Caelia desiring his Absence YES now you have your Wish but Ah! be kind To the poor Captive Heart I leave behind For though I go yet that with Thee remains Proud that 't is Thine and triumphs in its Chains For all the Beauties that are now unblown When in their gaudiest prime they shal be shown And kneeling to be lov'd I 'de not my Flame disown Though by that time perhaps thy charms might wast And the gay bloom of smiling Youth be past Yet you inflexible obdurate prove And â—y 'T is false 't is feign'd not real love O cease those thoughts and cease to be severe For by thy self thy awful self I swear I love too well and must with grief confess Those Men much happier that can love thee less The Prayer HEar me O pow'rful Charmer e're my Breath Is stopt by the ungentle hand of Death E're my quick Pulse has ever ceas'd to beat And from my Heart drain'd all the vital heat E're on my Tomb you stand and drop a Tear And cry The hapless Youth had not lain here If I had been less rigid and severe 'T was my cold Frowns that wing'd his timeless Fate Too soon he lov'd and I believe too late Hear me I beg if truth may beg for Grace Let not thy Heart bely thy Angel's Face Thy Face is with Compassion cloath'd around With mildness and with smiling mercy crown'd If not there where is Pity to be found Kind Glances from thy Eyes for ever move And kindle all Beholders into Love O let me then beseech your gentle Ear For once to stoop to your low Vassal's Prayer Which is no more but that you would not hate That Passion which your Beauty did create I do not ask your Love or if I do He does but ask your Love that will be true An Expostulation for discover'd Love which yet could not be conceal'd CUrst be the time when first my Soul inclin'd To say 't was Love of her opprest my mind Curst too the Wretch that did the Message bear That made her tender Nature grow severe And plung'd me hopeless deeper in Despair And curst my Self if there a Curse remain If yet there be a Plague beyond disdain That did the Inauspicious lines indite That banisht me for ever from her sight When were I to see Heav'n it self 't wou'd be with less delight O Slave O wretch hopeless forlorn undone I graspt at Joy and pull'd my ruin on Did I not hear her talk and see her move Her negligence it self was fuel to my Love She sung she danc't conquer'd without controul And every motion flasht upon the Soul Forc't it with Charms o'er-power'd to retire Which when recover'd did enhance desire And made me more adore and more admire All this with Silence I had still enjoy'd But my too forward Zeal all this destroy'd O Slave O Wretch yet why shou'd I complain By Fate compell'd I have reveal'd my pain And so shou'd do were it to do again Long smother'd Flames at last will force their way And when once Master
And had a Heart which ne'r forgot the Poor Mourn mourn ye Graces mourn your Darling's fall The most exalted wonder of you all To whose kind Breast can you for refuge run Now she that gave you life is dead and gone A great Example stands to let us see No pitch of Vertue from the Grave is free URANIA A Funeral Eclogue TO THE Pious Memory of the Incomparable M rs Wharton Damon Alexis Dam. ALexis Why that Cloud upon your Brow Has lovely Chloris lately broke her Vow And the sad Tydings reach't your Ears but now It must be so that sure must be the cause That from your Eyes this bleeding deluge draws Alex. Were it no more but a frail Nymph unkind It rather shou'd divert than wound my mind For he that grieves when such their Love estrange As well may grieve because the wind will change No Damon no my Sorrows fetch their spring From a more sad a more important thing Were all my Life to be one mourning Day Or cou'd my Heart dissolve in Tears away 'T is yet a Tribute for our loss too small Our Loss I call it for it wounds us all Dam. Still to your Tears you call a fresh supply And still too you conceal the reason why Alex. O! Is it possible thou should'st not know The Fatal Cause that has unman'd me so When Sorrow does triumph o'er all the Plain And strikes the coyest Nymph and dullest Swain These beat their Breasts and t'other rend their hair Like Lovers that are wedded to despair Not more cou'd be the cry if the last doom The dreadful change of Time and Place were come Dam. No longer in suspence then let me stay But tell that I may mourn as well as they Alex. Take then O Damon take the worst in brief The worst for it admits of no relief Vrania Sweet Vrania justly fam'd And never but with Adoration nam'd In whom were join'd each Vertue and each Grace These in her Mind and t'other in her Face Vrania in whose conduct we did find More than we cou'd expect in Womankind The happy Favorite of the mighty Nine Whose Verse was still employ'd on Themes Divine Ev'n she O Heav'ns Dam. I fear but yet go on Alex. Then hear and burst with grief she 's dead and gone Dam. O killing Sentence which I dy to know Alexis prithee say that 't is not so But see thy Eyes run o'er in them I view The fatal news y 'ave told me is too true Alex. Too true indeed when I my thought advance Reflecting on the turns of Fate and Chance How many Accidents disturb our rest How soon we lose the bravest and the best How they no more are priviledg'd from death Than ev'n the vilest Insect that draws breath Subject to worst of wrongs opprest with care Of which Vrania thou hast had thy share How swift by Heav'ns inevitable doom They 're snatch'd from hence and hurry'd to the Tomb Leaving the wicked and the vain to wast And glut on Blessings they cou'd never tast I hardly can the Impious thought forbear That Heav'n of our concerns takes little care Or that at least 't is something too severe Dam. Alexis do not blame Divine Decree And the strict Laws of strong necessity For since eternal Iustice cannot err What that inflicts we shou'd with patience bear I need not tell you all must dy e're long Alex. True Damon but not all dy while they 're young As for the Aged let 'em pass away And drop into their Tenements of Clay It does not trouble me for they must go Must feel the Sting of Death and shortly too But then the Youthful Healthy Gay and Strong We may with Justice hope to live as long And she you know was in her lovely noon O Heav'n that things so fair shou'd fade so soon Not half her Glass Ah brittle Glass was run Not half her natural term of years was done 'T is that Dam. Alexis moderate your grief 'T is in your power to give your self relief Think her as sure she is among the blest And has begun the Sabbath of her rest Think she is free from all that World of woe Under whose weight she labour'd here below And you will find more reason to be glad Than thus to be immoderately sad Repine not then Alexis 't is not well Yet since y' are on this subject prithee tell By what sad Fate the sweet Vrania fell Alex. A mortal but a lingering Disease Upon the Spirits of her Life did seize Her strength decreas'd and every fatal Day Still took a part till all was born away Pale wan and meagre did her Cheeks appear Though once a Spring of Roses flourish't there Thus long she lay with strong Convulsions torn Which yet were with a Saint-like patience born Till nature ceasing rather forc't to cease Gave her a painful yet a kind release Go sacred Nymph ascend the spangled Sphere For it has long wanted thy lustre there Faithful and loving to the last she prov'd And better did deserve to be belov'd Here Colon I cou'd Dam. Mention not his Name But let your subject be the Matchless Dame. Alex. So many are her Vertues and so vast And crowd upon my Memory so fast 'T is difficult on what part to begin And 't will be hard to leave when once I 'm in Her Converse was from all that Dross refin'd That is so visible in Womankind So very mild so fraught with Innocence I dare believe she cou'd not give offence By Practice she did Vertue 's path commend And honour'd all that were to worth a Friend Her Ardour still to Heav'nly things did show She learnt to be an Angel here below Gentle to all but to her self austere Hardly a Day but was half spent in Prayer 'T is Heav'ns Injunction we shou'd pray for those That are our mortal and inveterate Foes Hard Lesson hard to us so prone to err But 't was a very easy one to Her. Her Charity did every where extend For to be poor was to make her a Friend The Muses off-spring all she did excel In the great Poet-Art of writing well Her charming strains did please the nicest Ear And ev'n the haughtiest Swains were proud to hear Thirsis himself took notice of her Lays And thought 'em worthy his Celestial Praise Ah sweet Vrania of all Womankind Where hast thou left one like thy self behind Unless the chast Mirana who but she Thy Vertuous Sister For in her we see Thou dear departed Saint how much w 'ave lost in Thee Dam. By Heav'ns Alexis thou so well has shown The Vertues of the Nymph for whom you mone In such sad numbers told the fatal cause That from your Eyes this bleeding Deluge draws I 've caught it too plung'd in the same extreme Nor blush to weep upon so just a Theme Alex. Such pious grief Heav'n cannot but forgive That lets the Vertuous in our Memories live But see if now thou dost some tears let fall There goes a
sight that will engross 'em all The sweet Vrania ah too rigid doom By Virgins born to her eternal home See with what mournful Pomp the Scene appears The Swains all Speechless and the Nymphs all tears Instead of Flow'ry Wreath with Chaplets crown'd Their Temples are with Funeral Cypress bound Though they are silent yet their looks impart A lasting Anguish and a bleeding Heart Ha! Damon see on the sad Biere display'd Where all the Riches of the Earth is laid You sigh alas you know you sigh in vain You 'l never more behold her tread the Plain No more you 'l hear that soft harmonious voice Which none yet ever heard but did rejoice For ever ceas'd are all her matchless lays Heav'n has clos'd up the Volume of her days O Grief that I can think on the chast Dame Think that she 's dead and not become the same Dam. Cease Dear Alexis lest it shou'd be sed We fail'd in our last Office to the dead Let 's follow then the Mourners gone before It cannot add to our affliction more To see her laid in Dust that Boon we 'll crave And strew sweet Flowers upon her honour'd Grave ALCANDER A Funeral Eclogue Sacred to the Memory of Sir G. G. Baronet Doron Amintor THE Sun was set and the obsequious Night Had nigh extinguish't all remains of Light When poor Amintor with his head reclin'd A pensive Visage and a troubl'd Mind His Flocks neglecting to the Grove retir'd Alone nor any Company desir'd True Mourners still the dark recesses crave Most pleas'd with those that are most like the Grave Doron who all that day had mark't his grief And fill'd with hope to give him some relief Follow'd the weeping Swain who seeing spoke But first he sigh'd as if his Heart were broke Amin. Doron Methinks this lovely gloomy shade Seems only for despair and sorrow made The cheerful Sun darts here no rosie beam But all is sad and silent in extream The Melancholy place deserves a Melancholy Theme Let us then talk of the uncertain State Of human Life and the swift turns of Fate For who on frail Mortality does trust But limns the water or but writes in dust Dor. Look through blue glass and the whole prospect's blue Through sorrow's Optick this retreat you view And that does give it the same tincture too When Caelia first you saw 't was in this place Caelia the chastest of the charming race All Truth writ in her mind all Beauty in her Face Not one of all the Shepherds of the Plain That sigh'd for the fair Maid but sigh'd in vain She still frown'd on regardless of their pain You only gain'd her Favour and 't was here First the disdainful Nymph vouchsaft an Ear She heard you so much Wit and Truth were shown You melted her to Love and made her all your own And still as lovingly the Myrtles twine As if her snowy hands lay prest in thine And all the Quire of Birds stood mute to hear her Voice divine 'T is you then that are chang'd and O! if what My boading fears suggest I may relate In your despairing looks I read Alcander's wretched Fate Amin. Doron you have it right alas 't is so He 's gone where soon or late we all must go 〈…〉 whom we ever shall deplore For ever gone whom we did all adore Alcander dear Alcander is no more No more O bitter word O hateful sound What two-edg'd Sword can give a deeper wound What Ponyard Poison what envenom'd Dart Can find a quicker passage to the heart They wound but one way this through every pore No more O bitter hateful word no more Dor. Amintor cease but who can reprehend Those Tears wept o'er the grave of such a Friend How many down death's steep Oblivion rowl Thought on no more than if they 'd had no Soul Ill sure they 've liv'd and met a wretched lot That are so soon eternally forgot It shows much worth a generous heart and kind When gone to leave some mourning Friends behind Amin. If grieving for the dead in ought set forth Their private Vertue or their publick worth It both ways does sufficiently proclaim Alcander's Bounty Friendship Love and Fame For O! who ever touch't Death's fatal shore Of all the Millions that are gone before Whose dear converse was mist or mourn'd for more In me O Doron read and you may see His loss in no small measure touches me How all his Friends and no one Man had more Lament his absence and his loss deplore With Grief transported Grief that knows no bound They fall extended on the rigid ground Expostulating with relentless Fate That deals so hardly by the good and great Disdaining to give respit to their mone But with a joint consent all sigh and groan All weep for poor Alcander dead and gone Dor. How can it chuse but move the hardest heart To think that Honour Piety Desert Are most obnoxious to the fatal Dart Amin. Frequent Examples we may daily view That what y 'ave said O Doron is too true For O! to my Confusion now I find Death makes distinction takes the just and kind And nought but Knave and Coxcomb leaves behind And they live on the time that nature gave Till tir'd with Life no longer time they crave And upon Crutches creep into the grave But such as dear Alcander soon take flight Their rosie morning soon eclips'd in night That was so cheerful vigorous and bright And O! since once we must resign our breath Since once w' are doom'd to feel the sting of death Wou'd I his fatal Minute had supply'd That he might still have liv'd I willingly shou'd ha' dy'd No less by me cou'd on the publick fall His loss does for the publick sorrow call And will be surely heard and surely mourn'd by all To serve his Country still his care did tend That with his Sword and Council to defend No Man was ever more his Country's Friend But he is gone he 's gone and let us mourn Gone to the Grave and never must return To the dark Grave to the wide gloomy shade Where undistinguish't good and bad are laid O Eyes run o'er and take of Grief your fill Let every Tear be sharp enough to kill Let ev'ry groan come from my Heart and show 'T is torn with the Convulsive Pangs of woe O Cheeks henceforth no sanguine Colour come To open view but pale usurp the room Such a true pale as all the World may know Such a true pale as may distinctly show The fatal cause from whence the sad effect does flow Let from my Lips the livid tincture fly Like Ev'ning Rays before a gloomy Sky And a dark ashy hew throughout be spread Dusk't over like the visage of the dead Yet when all these with one joint mind condole To show how great my grief is in the whole They 'll yet want pow'r to paint the anguish of my Soul Dor. When I just now your sorrow did commend I did not mean a
the rest A like esteem exprest And shot their Friendly Souls into his Breast Which proves the Body's purity From Factious and Self-Interest Members free No whiffling Fops you did admit Retaylers in the Trade of Wit No Farce-Companions that with awkard Miene Court every Punk they meet and every where are seen No sordid Scriblers whose unlicens'd Rhimes Add to our growing Crimes And will I fear pluck down a Judgment on the Times This fry was scorn'd to none Was the great Favour shown But who brought equal merit of their own Such as were worthy and believ'd The Honour Worthy they receiv'd That loath'd the crying Follies of the Age And the lewd Scenes of the declining Stage The Coward 's calmness and the Bully's rage The Statesman's Quibbles and the Lawyer 's wiles The Souldier's brags and the false fair One's smiles The Spark's gay dress that sets up for a Beau With all that think they 're Wise and are not so These were the Genii these the Soul And such as these compose the whole 4. Thus constituted your bright Progress you began Short is the time and far the space y 'ave ran For to that pitch of glory y' are arriv'd As all the foremost Arts admire Yet you stop not but still aspire Unlike the Greshamites who have their Fame surviv'd You are the more rever'd as you grow longer liv'd You make it not your business to pry Into the dark-wrought Snares of Policy Made Intricate by Jugling Elves And is a Maze to lose themselves Ne'r vex or wonder at the turns of State That makes so many Knaves and Coxcombs great Does upstart Mushroms raise Till they like Meteors blaze And make the Lavish Poets wanton in their praise This stiles 'em Noble and this Iust And tells how well they have discharg'd their trust Though they rais'd all their store By peeling of the publick and the poor As by Estates soon got w' are sure they must Another does their Eloquence approve As if their Tongues dropt from above And swear like Orpheus's Harp they make the Forests move Yet to the man that nicely marks A Dog keeps more Coherence when he barks Thus they flourish but anon The storm of Fate comes on They 're prov'd false Metal and they must be gone And that which now appear'd so bright Has in a moment lost its glaring light Eclips'd by black reproach and everlasting night 5. Nor is your time mis-spent in Parchment-Far The Hellish Bustle of the Bar Where the loud tough-lung'd Tribe wage an eternal War A War while there high words are rais'd Their Pedigree and Vertues blaz'd That is the Issue of a first-rate Clown That wore his Leathern-Breeches up to Town This is a Pimp to Causes such a Cheat He 'd pawn his Soul for a five-shilling Treat This has a Conscience steel'd and this a Face of Brass And he that looks so gravely is an Ass Yet when they next meet they agree Litigious Treachery Consult afresh to raise their Client's strife And make it last as long as life Yet they well know the Law was meant What 's wrongful to redress To free the Poor and Innocent And make their suffrings less How cou'd Grays-Inn or how the Temple rise Such pompous Piles as e'n outbrave the Skies And seem a dwelling fit for Deities If all the Cash which such a charge sustain'd Had Righteously been gain'd Let Lawyers then talk what they please Banter Buz and ly for Fees We see which way they draw And safely may assert And all unprejudic't will take our part No man can be a thorough Knave that 's not bred to the Law. 6. But as you shun and hate These Catterpillars of the State That ravage on the Spring just as they please And leave the Barren after-crop to other Sciences So you laugh too at those For they deserve not pity but your scorn That madly run into the dang'rous Noose And painful Bondage before freedom chuse But Asses are for slavery born Such Bruits They wou'd let all the poor Rot and perish at the door E're they 'd relieve'em with a single Mite Yet wast Estates to propagate their spite Wou'd give a Million without grutch To Pettifoggers Rooks and such Just for the dear delight to make another spend as much Reflecting not what will at last befal Or who stands waiting by to sweep up all At the Groom-Porter's so I 've seen the Fops impatient for the throw Win there three hands and pay But leave not off their play Till between what was won and lost Fortune from one to t'other tost Wise Niel has half the Cash engross'd Still they push on nor mind th' impendent ill The Purse will empty as the Box does fill And so too have I read In living lines though the fam'd Author's dead The Frog and Mouse were once at mortal strife And each in equal hazard of his life The Kite who saw the vain contest And by the way Lawyers like them are Birds of prey To give a warning to the rest And make their senseless fewd a jest Devours 'em both ends the dispute Dull Souls whom such Examples can't confute 7. Nor stop you here the Velvet-Quack That wears a Leash of Lives upon his back Feels your Resentment like the rest For him a like disgust express't Nor does the grave Disguise Which he affects to make us think he 's wife Preserve him from the Notion of a Cheat That grows by purging and by poys'ning great How negligent they are we see And careful of our Lives what need they be That both ways live or dy will have their Fee By Indirection thus they raise their store Keep their gay Lacquey Coach and Whore And Fops of Quality can do no more As for Religion what they have they feign 'T is not consistent with their way of gain T' wou'd make 'em charitable paths pursue Which they that will be rich can never do Their Spawn Th' Apothecary too Who Leech-like cleave to the poor Patient close And suck their Purses full e're they break loose With their damn'd long unconscionable Bills Bring in as many Pounds as they deliver Pills Thus Fools with Villains willfully complying Are made to pay for dying Nay some leave 'em large Legacies by Will And ev'n in Death admire their Murd'rer's Skill 8. Unhappy foolish wilful Man Preposterous from thy self thy Woes began Of all created things none are so curst as Thee So curst by their Simplicity The Feather'd and four-footed kind Without those helps we boast to find Endure Heav'n's wrath Excessive heat and cold Yet grow according to their Natures old Nor are among themselves at strife How to abridge the little span of Life Which of it self alas is quickly gone And flies too fast to be push't faster on But Man vain Man has found a thousand Keys To open that one Lock that ends his Days Or if Sword Fire the Plague and Tempest fail They 're not Physician-proof he 'll certainly prevail O for a Western Wind
Each home-set thrust shall pierce Vice to the heart And draw the blood out in the mortall'st part That the proud Mimicks who now Lord it so May be the publick scorn where e'r they go Their Trade decay and they unpity'd starve A better Fate than most of 'em deserve First to the Middle-Gallery we 'll go The Prologue to the Vice you 'll find below Where reeking Punks like Summer Insects swarm And stink like Pole-cats when they 're hunted warm Their very Scents cause Apoplectick Fits And yet they 're thought all Civet by the Cits But that 's not much for the plain truth to tell They 're without Brains why not without their Smell Here every Night they sit three hours for Sale With dirty Night-rail and a dirtier Tayl If any Gudgeon bites they have him sure For nothing Angles Blockheads like a Whore. To keep their Masks on is their only way For going barefac't wou'd but spoil their Play Their Noses sharp as Needles Eyes sunk in A wrinkl'd Forehead and a parchment Skin A Breath as hot as Aetna's sulph'rous Fire And yet not half so hot as their desire The Physick each at times has swallow'd up Wou'd stock the King's Apothecary's Shop Who e're does grapple with these Fire-ships May tast the Mercury upon their Lips. Wonder no longer that in France and Rome They have the knack to poison with perfume Our Strumpets now those Factresses for death Will do 't with one puff of their morning breath If drunk with Nants as by their smell you 'd think They never tasted any other drink It mainly adds to what I 've said before And makes 'em glory in their guilt the more Then let 'em have their will and you shall see How wild a thing unbounded Bitch will be No Pen can write no human wit can think The lewdness of a Play-House Punk in drink Inspir'd by Lust's Enthusiastick rage She 'd prostitute her self ev'n on the Stage Strip naked and without a thought of shame Do things Hell's blackest Fiend wou'd blush to name Yet such as these our brawny Fops admire The fittest fewel for so hot a fire A Woman 's ne're so wicked but she can Find one as wicked or much worse in man To satisfy her Lust obey her will And at her beck perform the greatest ill These ride not Strumpets but are Strumpet-rid Like Dogs they 'll fetch and carry if they 're bid But now I talk of Dogs did you e're meet A proud Bitch and her Gallants in the street Mungrel Shock Mastiff Spaniel blithe and gay And mind how they foam pant and lick their prey How ceremonious with what courtly Art They make address each tenders down his heart And if Bitch snarles they take it in good part This is an Emblem of our Gallery Ware The Scene you may see nightly acted here How e'r I must give Dog and Bitch their due They are the better Creatures of the two But Bawdy only for a Season here The Leach'rous Commerce does hold all the Year About one Iilt a hundred Fops shall crowd So talkative impertinent and loud That who e'r hither comes to see the Play For what they hear might as well stay away After a long insipid vain Amour Between some flutt'ring Officer and Whore To some Hedge-Tavern they direct their way Known only to such Customers as they To end th' Intrigue agreed on at the Play There they roar swear huff eat and drink at large And all at the Heroick Cully's charge Till drain'd both Purse and back he does retire And within three days find his Blood on Fire This is the sum of all the Play-House Jobs Begin in Punk and end in Mr. Hobs. If he wou'd find the Nymph that caus'd his moan He toyls in vain the Bird of night is flown For by the way so sharp they are at sinning They change their Lodging oftner than their Linnen Yet not this warning makes the Sot give o'er He must repeat the dangerous Bliss once more But still finds harder usage than before Hence 't is our Surgeons and our Quacks are grown To make so great a Figure in the Town They heap up an Estate by our Debauches Our keeping Strumpets makes them keep their Coaches Their Consorts are so splendid and so gay You 'd think 'em Queens for they 're as 〈◊〉 as they None go so ' Expensive as such Vermiâ—â— Wives For the worst Gown they wear 〈◊〉 Lives What horrid things are these 〈…〉 the Stage That makes these Insects gain upon the Age. There 't is offenders sow that fertile crime Of which these reap the harvest in short time There 's many of 'em for their single share Pocket at least five hundred pound a year Nor is it strange so spreading is this Crime They 'll have seven score a fluxing at a time Of which perhaps by Heav'nly Providence Seven may Recover and creep faintly thence So lean thin pale and meagre you 'd swear Ghosts have more Substance though they 're nought but air So cunning too are these Pox-Emp'ricks grown Live ye or dy they 'l make the Cash their own Expensive Malady where people give More to be kill'd than many wou'd to live Some get Estates by other deaths but here The very dying does undo the Heir O that the custom were again return'd That Bodies might on Funeral Piles be burn'd For I believe the Poison that the Sun Sucks from the ground and through the air does run Giving all catching Plagues and Fevers birth Are Steams that are exhal'd from Pocky Earth From whence the Town may be concluded curst For here few dy but are half rotten first But e're from this Bitch-Gallery I descend I 've more to say and beg you to attend For 't is of late found a notorious truth Court-Ladies in their heat of Lust and Youth Sail hither muffl'd up in a disguise And by pert carriage and their sharp replies Set all the Men agog who streight agree They must be Harlots of great Quality So lead 'em off to give their Leachery vent For 't is presum'd they came for that intent Indeed if they 're examin'd they will say They only meant to take a strict survey If Whores cou'd be so lewd as they report And that they might as well have known at Court But they 're but flesh and 't is in vain to rail Since any thing that 's flesh we know is frail Keep keep you Citizens your Wives from hence If you 'd preserve their Native Innocence You else are sure to live in Cuckold's row What Precedent is there that lets you know Our Wives by coming hither Vertuous grow That Plays may make 'em vitious truth assures Especially if they 're so prone as yours The London-Cuckolds they all flock to see Are pleas'd with their own Infidelity In vain you counsel give what can reclaim A Woman wholly given up to shame In whom there is no Faith no Truth no trust And whose chief care is to indulge her Lust For
more a Fool than thee Content's a Blessing Let us search around And see then where that Blessing 's to be found No Riches like Contentment there 't is meant One may be wealthy and not be content If Riches cannot make a happy Man To human apprehension nothing can In short the Rich the Poor the Peasant Cit Still aim at something which they have not yet And still at something more if that shou'd hit 'T is hard perhaps impossible to find One that has all things suited to his mind Something will be amiss and must be so For to want nothing wou'd be Heav'n below Yet some will think to have it here and some In search of it around the Globe will roam Alas it may be sooner found at home She lives not in the Court or noisy Town But shuns the gilded Roofs and Beds of Down And Robes of State the Ermins that do hide Hypocrisy Debate Revenge and Pride In short we 'll all to this Conclusion bring If not with thee there is not such a thing For true Content impartially defin'd And in thy Breast we see the Blessings join'd Is perfect Innocence and lasting Peace of Mind How much alas of our short time we wast In seeking what we never get at last The true Religion or at least so get As to live up to the strict Rule of it But one Foundation does our Saviour yield But ah how many Pinacles we build Some guided by false Pastors go astray Blinded are such or will not see their way Others need not be driven on the Shelves Foes to the Compass they will wreck themselves Some will have the unfailing Chair their Guide When any Chair wou'd do as well beside And some the private Spirit which is Pride Tomes of Dispute about the World are spread The living still at variance with the dead And after all their shifts from this to that Their unintelligible endless Chat Nor we nor they can tell what 't is they wou'd be at While thus their different Tenents they maintain The Atheist thinks that all Religion 's vain A Pious Cheat ripn'd at last to Law To sham the Croud and keep Mankind in awe Indeed some preach for praise and some for gain And some delight in Notions dull and vain And some in Texts abstruse which Angels can't explain 'T is not for Age it self much more for Youth From such vast heaps of Chaff to sift the sacred truth Thus while we in an anxious Laby'rinth stray Without a Clue and doubtful of the way Giddy with turning round we fall to Death a Prey Away w' are hurry'd all our Life a Dream Or slept away or spent in the Extreme Thou art dear Iack from this hard Fate exempt 'T is thou deserv'st applause and these Contempt This Iargon thou not mark'st or dost not know Thou without this dost mount with this we sink below The Epicureans cou'd not feign their Gods More blest than Thee for in their bright abodes In full Fruition of themselves they lay And made Eternity one sportive Day Careless of all our petty Jars on Earth Which they not minded or but made their Mirth So thou in thy exalted Station plac't Enjoy'st the present Minute e're it wast Thoughtless of all to come forgetting all that 's past Tell me thou man of Knowledge who hast read What Cicero Plato Socrates have said With all the Labours of the Mighty Dead Inform me when the fatal hour comes on And the last sands are hastning to be gone What signifies your Wisdom do you know What the Soul is or whither 't is to go Are not your Minds with dreadful Visions fraught Are you not lost in the Abyss of thought But which is meaner yet can human wit Can all in Pulpits taught in Authors writ Make you contentedly resign your Breath And free you from the slavish Fears of Death An Insect's chattring or a Dog that howls Your merry Crickets and your midnight Owls Makes ye imagine Heav'n has seal'd your doom And summons you to your eternal home On every thought the Spleen strict watch does keep And rides your Haggard Fancy in your sleep Tell me deny th' Assertion if you can Is not my natural Fool the happier Man Remorse he feels not which the best must feel Though guarded with a seven-fold shield of steel And well he feels it for who feels it not Has of the two a yet more wretched Lot. The Stings of Conscience and some Authors say Hell Flames are not more violent than they Nay which is yet far bolder some will tell There is no other needs no other Hell This Plague thou art not troubl'd with thy Breast Is with a constant calm of Peace possest That Wings thee smoothly on to Everlasting Rest. No noisy storms of Nature on the deep Break thy repose which the same state does keep Alike if Winds are still or if they blow And shatter all above and loosen all below No Clangor frightens thee or beat of Drum Or Visions of the dismal day of doom When trembling some awake and cry 't is come 't is come With rowling Haggard Eyes they gaze around And think they hear the last loud Trumpet sound Start'st not in Dreams when lab'ring with short Breath We think w' are plunging down the Precipice of Death When Vapours rise and dreadful thoughts instil Of hissing Fiends and Fears of future ill Thou dost not with such dozing Dolts comply Nor in this worse than dying posturely For to fear Death's more irksom than to dy Free from these horrid Apprehensions found Thy Peace is lasting and thy Rest is sound Let thoughts of Death the Coward Restless keep To dy's no more than to drop fast asleep To rest from endless toyl and wake no more To find those ills that tortur'd us before What wou'dst thou say dear Iack cou'dst thou but mind The shifts the tricks and slavery of Mankind What wou'dst thou say wer't thou to walk the street And mark the two legg'd Herd you 'l daily meet To see some passionately hug and kiss And when past by put out their Tongues and hiss Some creep like Snails and some like Monkeys walk Some all hum drum and some eternal talk Some drest in Silks and some in double Frieze And some with Foot-thick Rolls upon their Knees Wert thou to see 'em drink to an excess But little Reason yet will make it less And when intoxicated draw and stab And cling like a lin'd Bloodhound to their Drab Wer 't thou three hours i' th' Theatre to sit And hear the Fools clap Bombast off for Wit Farce for true Comedy and the good sense That Manly speaks run down for Impudence Were 't thou behind the Gawdy Scenes to go The former Age lov'd sense and we are all for show There see the Fops to Leonora bending Like twenty fawning Spaniels on one Bitch attending Or shou'd'st thou there a base-born Mimick see Hugg'd and Ador'd by Coxcombs of Degree With nothing but his hardned Impudence To