did'st thy Pension gain And that chang'd both thy Morals and thy Strain If to write Contradiction Nonsense be Who has more nonsense in their works than Thee We 'l mention but thy Layman's Faith and Hind who 'd think both these such clashing do we find Cou'd be the Product of one single mind Here thou wou'd'st Charitable fain appear Find'st fault that Athanasius was severe Thy pity streight to cruelty is rais'd And ev'n the Pious Inquisition prais'd And recommended to the Present Reign O Happy Countries Italy and Spain Have we not cause in thy own words to say Let none believe what varies every day That never was nor will be at a stay Once Heathens might be sav'd you did allow But not it seems we greater Heathens now The Loyal Church that buoys the Kingly Line Damn'd with a Breath but 't is such Breath as thine What Credit to thy Party can it be To 've gain'd so vile a Proselyte as Thee Stray'd from the Fold makes us but laugh not weep One of the Shabby and the Scabby Sheep We have but lost what 't was disgrace to keep By them mistrusted and to us a scorn For 't is but weakness at the best to turn True had'st thou left us in the former Reign 'T had prov'd it was not wholly done for gain Now the Meridian Sun is not more plain Gold is thy God for a substantial summ Thou to the Turk wou'd'st run away from Rome And sing his holy Expedition against Christendom But to conclude blush with a lasting red If thou' rt not mov'd with what 's already said To see thy Boars Bears Buzzards Wolves and Owls And all thy other Beasts and other Fowls Routed by two poor Mice unequal fight But easy 't is to conquer in the Right See there a Youth a shame to thy gray hairs Make a meer Dunce of all thy threescore years What in that tedious Poem hast thou done But cramm'd all Aesop's Fables into one But why shou'd I the precious minutes spend On him that wou'd much rather hang than mend No Wretch continue still just as thou art Thou' rt now in the last Scene that crowns thy part To purchase favour veer with every gale And against Interest never cease to rail Though thou' rt the only proof how Interest can prevail The End of the Satyr upon the Laureat A Consolatory Epistle TO A FRIEND Made unhappy by Marriage OR A Scourge for ill Wives Advertisement THough the following Poem at first sight may seem to point at some Particular Person yet to the Judicious the design will appear to be of general Influence for notwithstanding 't is a Description but of one lewd Woman I have taken care to paint her so comprehensively ill that there are very few but what may put in for a Child's share with her From whence 't is easy to guess I shall be read by that Sex with some disgust But let 'em have a care for if they are angry I shall conclude Satyr being a Glass that shews things just as they are 't is occasion'd by seeing their own Deformity If any shou'd imagine this Scourge is chiefly design'd for the Wife of Quality 't is rightly guess'd and I am apt to believe as they behave themselves now adays the sharpest thing in this Nature can be but seasonable Yet let not the meaner Spouse be too much delighted that she is favour'd for 't is ten to one they may hear of me in their turn but 't is fit their Betters shou'd be serv'd before them A Consolatory Epistle TO A FRIEND Made unhappy by Marriage OR A Scourge for ill Wives THat Man my Friend does tempt a dang'rous Fate That lists himself into a Marriage State. Where is that He so happy in a Bride But oft does wish the fatal Knot unty'd Qualms of Disquiet will oppress his thought And make him see his Marriage was a fau't And if the happy find so bad success They that have ill Wives sure must hope for less Killing Vexations Cares and sleepless Nights Put a long stop to all their best Delights And then with Grief they find what greater ill They 're wretched and are sure to be so still But 't will be urg'd if 't is a Snare so great What makes Men add Wings to their own ill Fate And strive to meet misfortunes with such hast Which of themselves alas come on too fast But ah set human frailty in your Eyes Impossible we shou'd be always wise Or grant we cou'd this Sea has unseen Shelves Where ev'n the wisest oft are split themselves And therefore I that Maxim disapprove That those that join here first are join'd above If Marriages are made by Heav'ns fixt will O that some Doctor with his Heav'nly skill Wou'd tell why most of 'em are made so ill Wretched Examples we may daily view But its worst Influence was shed on You. In all things that cou'd please a Woman blest Rich Healthy Young and Witty as the best Yet ev'n these Gifts made your Misfortunes worse Since they but charm'd a Heart that prov'd your Curse Good Heav'ns who then saw and heard her vow Cou'd think she 'd ever be what she is now Her Carriage Impudent perverse her Will The scorn of Good Wives and the worst of Ill I 'll take her first ev'n in her Virgin State Which she was all along observ'd to hate And if from Dreams we may her Nature scan She ev'n in them wou'd sigh and call for Man. The disobedience she to Friends did shew Told us she 'd play the same Game o'er with You. I know 't is cruel to remind you ' again Of wrongs y 'ave suffer'd and add pain to pain But if you will a while your thoughts suspend You 'l find at least I mean you like a Friend You marry'd her and there your Woes began 'T was your hard chance to be that hapless Man Yet if Joys by appearance might be guess'd There were few Men but thought you doubly blest You lov'd her above thought above controul Sooner than wrong her you 'd ha' wrong'd your Soul And yet so far her cunning did excel It was believ'd that she lov'd you as well Ah! what a Riddle is a Woman's will That seems so good and is indeed so ill For soon she threw off Vertues forc'd disguise With which a while she strove t' amuse your Eyes And then to shew which way she lean'd before We saw that she was rotten at the Core. Her roving thoughts were bounded by no Law But lusted after every Man she saw From thought she eagerly to action fled And brought Pollution to a sacred Bed. Blinded by Love all this you cou'd not view The last that did believe her false was You. Your sorrow here no Language can express It griev'd your Heart and ah what cou'd it less To see the charming Partner of your Youth Whose Breast you thought had been a Mine of Truth Root up the Name of Vertue from her Heart And boldly
E. Eldest Son to the Marquess of H. upon his Marriage and Return 31 To the Earl of Dorset and Middlesex c. upon his Marriage with the Lady Mary Compton 33 To Sir Edward Nevil Baronet upon his Marriage 35 To my unknown Brother M r R. R. hearing he was happily married 36 To G. G. C. Esq upon the Report of his being dead 37 To P. A. Esq on his Poems and Translations c. 38 To Mr. G. F. then in the Country Writ in 1681. 39 To the Countess of Abingdon 41 To my Lady Anne Bainton on the 28 th of April 1688. 43 To Mrs. H. Key 47 Absence 50 Prologue design'd for a Play of mine 53 On the new Edition of Godfrey of Bulloign 1687. The true Fast. A Paraphrase on the 58th of Isaiah 56 The Harlot A Paraphrase on the 7th of Proverbs 60 To Madam G. with Mrs. Phillips's Poems 65 To Madam Beaw Occasioned by a Copy of Verses of my Lady Ann Bainton's 66 Instructions to a young Lady 66 Funeral Elegies To the Memory of Mr. John Oldham 67 To the Memory of Edmund Waller Esq 69 To the Memory of Colonel Edw. Cooke 71 To the Memory of Mrs. M. Peachley 73 Urania A Funeral Eclogue to the pious Memory of the Incomparable Mrs. Wharton 75 Alcander A Funeral Eclogue sacred to the Memory of Sir G. G. Baronet 82 Pindarick Poems To the Society of the Beaux Esprits 101 To the Earl of Abingdon c. 121 To the Memory of our late Sovereign Lord King Charles II. 125 Satyrs Prologue to the following Satyrs and Epistles 131 Love given over or a Satyr against the Pride Lust and Inconstancy c. of Woman 141 A Satyr against the Playhouse 161 A Satyr upon Man 195 A Satyr upon the Laureat 227 A Consolatory Epistle to a Friend made unhappy by Marriage or A Scourge for ill Wives 237 Jack Pavy aliàs Jack Adams 255 To Julian Secretary to the Muses a Consolatory Epistle in his Confinement 279 To the much honoured D. D. Esq sent him with the Satyr against Woman 282 To the Ingenious Mr. J. Knight 287 To my Lord of Abingdon c. 293 To the Reverend Mr. Francis Henry Cary c. upon my fixing in the Country 301 POEMS Chiefly consisting of SATYRS AND Satyrical Epistles SONG I. Fatal Constancy 1. CIara charming without Art The wonder of the Plain Wounded by Love's resistless Dart Had over-fondly giv'n her Heart To a regardless Swain Who though he well knew Her Passion was true Her Truth and her Beauty disdain'd While thus the fair Maid By her Folly betray'd To the rest of the Virgins complain'd 2. Take heed of Man and while you may Shun Love's Deceitful Snare For though at first it looks all Gay 'T is ten to one y' are made a Prey To Sorrow Pain and Care But if you love first Y' are certainly Curst Despair will insult in your Breast The Nature of Men Is to slight who love them And love those that slight 'em the best 3. Yet let the Conq'rour know my mind Ingrateful Celadon That he will never never find One half so true or half so kind When I am dead and gone But as she thus spoke Her tender Heart broke Death spares not the fair nor the Young So Swans when they dy Make their own Elegy And breath out their Life in a Song SONG II. No Life if no Love. 1. CAelia is Chast yet her bright Eyes Are Motives to desire Each Look each Motion does surprize And lasting Love inspire Her smiles wou'd make the Wretch rejoyce That ne're rejoyc't before And O! to hear her charming Voice Is Heav'n or something more 2. And thus adorn'd where e're she turns Fresh Conquests on her wait The trembling Restless Lover burns Nor can resist his Fate Ah! Caelia as thou' rt fair be kind Nor this small Grace deny Though Love for Love I never find Yet let me Love or Dy SONG III. Pity if you 'd be pity'd 1. WHY Caelia with that coy Behaviour Do you meet Amintor's Flame Why deny him ev'ry Favour That so much adores your Name Adores it too with such a Passion Fervent lasting and Divine That wou'd from all Hearts draw Compassion All but that hard Heart of thine 2. Gods Why thus d' ye wast your Graces Why thus Bountiful in vain Why give Devils Angels Faces First to please and then disdain Where ever was a Beauteous Creature That bore lightning in her Eye But to her Lover shew'd ill Nature And cou'd smile to see him dy 3. 'T is true at last Heav'ns Indignation Causeless hatred to Reprove Makes her doat with equal Passion On some Youth averse to Love One that regardless sees her languish Like a withering Lily pine O pity then Amintor's anguish Or that Fate may soon be thine SONG IV. The reāsonable Request 1. FOR pity Caelia ease my care The scorn your Eye does dart Swifter than Lightning pierces Air Runs to my trembling Heart The Pangs of Death are less severe When Souls and Bodies part But Death I 've oft invok't and shall again For what fond wretch wou'd on the Rack remain And have no use of Life but still to live in pain 2. I not presume to beg a Kiss Twou'd heighten my Desire And a kind look's a happiness That wou'd but mount it higher Nor yet your Love for that 's a Bliss Where I must ne're aspire No this is all that I request and sure A smaller Boon was never beg'd before Do but believe I love you and I ask no more SONG V. The Hopeless Comfort 1. NOT though I know she fondly lies Claspt in my Rival's Arms Can free my Heart or keep my Eyes From fixing on her Charms 2. Tell me ye Pow'rs that rule our Fate Why are frail men so vain With so much Zeal to wish for that They never can attain 3. Some Comfort 't is I 'me not alone All are like me undone And that which does like Death spare none Why shou'd I hope to shun SONG VI. The Fruitless Caution Amintor Caelia Am. TAke heed fair Caelia how you slight The Youth that courts you now For though fresh Charms like dawning Light Still flourish on your Brow Yet fairest Days must know a Night And so alas must Thou In vain in vain You 'l then complain In vain your Scorn and Cruelty bemone For none can prove So dull to love When Age approaches or when Beauty 's gone Caelia Cease Fond Amintor cease your Suit For 't is but urg'd in vain who 'd sow where they can reap no Fruit But Anguish and Disdain Your whining Passion I despise And hearken to 't no more Than the deaf Winds to Seamen's cries When all the Billows roar For if when Youth and Beauty 's gone I must be scorn'd of Men I 'le now revenge e're Age come on My Persecution then SONG VII The Wanderer fixt 1. E'Re I saw Silvia I with ease Cou'd find out many that cou'd please With Beauty fraught and free
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
yours and reach the ample sky 'T is granted that Temptations still abound But whom seduce the rotten not the sound Gold charms in vain in vain the Siren sings To one that does contemplate higher things That sees the Goal and with a sober pace For some run fast and tire keep on and win the race Ill fare the rigid Dame and wrinkl'd Face As far from common sense as Sin from Grace That think none can be wise or good but those That whine and cant and snuffle in the Nose And wear by choice unfashionable Cloaths But decent Ornament though such abase Instead of a reproof does claim our praise Why shou'd that Female be thought vain or proud That loves to be distinguish't from the croud The crowd not Sin shou'd be avoided more Those two leg'd Bruits more senseless than the four Yet that a mean shou'd be observ'd is true And 't is as sure that mean's observ'd by few The Servant shou'd not like her Lady dress She may let her Impertinence be less Nor Drabs of the Exchange of base report Be trick't like a fine Lady of the Court In Quality there 's many things allow'd Which in a meaner State wou'd be too proud Though oft in Quality it self we see A strange Corruption of this Liberty Extravagance in dress is the abuse And that in no degree admits excuse The Merchant's tawdry Spouse does most affect That costly wear the better-bred reject Such will have rich attire and when that 's done They 're awkardly and flauntingly put on Just as a Bully's know by full-mouth'd Oaths So the Cit's Wife by ill-chose tawdry Cloaths Which yet to make it worse the senseless Elves Think best and for their fancy hug themselves But thou art to the happy mean inclin'd Ev'n in thy outward dress we see thy inmost mind So much of Modesty it dazles sight And renders thee our wonder and delight Fine not coquetish as if too much care Were us'd in dressing then thy gentle air Neither too stiff nor which is worse too free But just what true deportment ought to be Mixt with thy pleasing Converse is a Charm That wou'd give Statues Life and make cold Hermits warm Happy for Womankind as Happy too For us were all your charming Sex like you Wou'd they Behaviour from your Conduct learn Dress well but make high Heav'n their chief concern But Ah! Mankind wou'd then too happy be And Heav'n has shew'd us in Creating Thee Such Worth's a thing we must but seldom see For unlike thee most of thy Sex we find Not made to Pleasure but to plague Mankind Vain are our Youths to let thee then so long Live in thy Virgin State but 't is themselves they wrong Or else unkind art thou that wilt not take Th'Addresses which without dispute they make For they have Hearts Impression to receive And you have Eyes to Conquer and Enslave Yes yes I see 'em at your Footstool kneel I hear 'em sigh and with a pang reveal That Love they did with greater pangs conceal O be n't Inexorable but incline To Pity Love 's a Passion all Divine Make some one happy and reward his care And ease the rest by giving 'em despair Absence THree years Almira has our Souls been join'd For what 's true Love but mingling of the mind To say w' are the same flesh is far too low T' express the Faith we to each other show Ev'n Friendship burns but faint not worth a name When 't is compar'd with our more mutual flame And not so well deserves Immortal Fame In thy dear Arms my Cares were always eas'd Nor cou'd I ever grieve when you were pleas'd Still so concern'd so studious of your good For every tear you shed my Heart wept blood Nor was your Passion dear Almira less Too strong to warp too mighty to express A languishing a lasting lambent flame Bright as thy Eyes untainted as thy fame Fresh as the dawn when first Aurora springs And soft as Down upon an Angel's Wings Such was our Love so we entranc't did live Contented and what more had Heav'n to give Blest were these hours and Ah! they swiftly flew But who e're kept soft pleasure long in view For since our Hearts were one by mutual vow We never knew what absence was till now Ne'r knew what 't was to wander all alone Ly by a murmuring Brook on Moss or Stone And make the list'ning stream attend our mone With sharp complaint the neighb'ring Air to wound And tire kind Echo with the mournful sound Ne're knew what 't was at dead of night distrest When silence does invite the World to rest With sighs abrupt to think on our late Joy Which we once thought ill Fate cou'd not destroy Ah foolish thought let none hereafter be So fond to assure themselves Felicity If we in whom unsully'd Love did reign Cou'd not be priviledg'd from hateful pain For others to expect a kinder Fate is vain Not through past Ages can a pair be found Whose truth deserves more nobly to be crown'd Or will in after Days be more renown'd To lay down Life for her dear sake I love Though great were far too small my Faith to prove I cou'd nor doubt I but your love 's like mine Endanger ev'n my Soul to rescue thine Nor does in this ought that 's profane appear For Heav'n wou'd not be Heav'n were not Almira there Though I enjoy'd what cou'd on Man befal All that in this world wise men happy call Absence from thee wou'd turn those sweets to gall Think then thou lovely Partner of my heart Lovely I call thee lovely without Art Lovelier than those that ly in Princes Arms For she that 's vertuous has ten thousand Charms O think if absence can such woe create What 't is I suffer from relentless fate Unhappy shou'd we be indeed and know No ebb of grief but a perpetual flow If unkind Fortune longer shou'd conspire With inauspicious hands to cancel our desire But thanks to Heav'n their kindly Influence Our Stars begin in pity to dispence For the time 's nigh that will redeem our harms And bring us blest to one anothers Arms. Fly then ye minutes you that grace the van Be quick as thought and lead the following on And you succeeding moments 't is no crime When once you enter the cariere of time That you the sooner may our Peace restore Push on the sluggards that took flight before And thou my Soul no more at Fate repine No longer blame decrees that are Divine Compose thy Griefs against thy Joys return For when thou art at rest Almira will not mourn Prologue design'd for a Play of mine OF Poets living poorly oft you tell But you may wonder how they live so well How many vain Fops do there daily sit Trick't like my Ladies Monkey in the Pit That wou'd be poorer if they liv'd by Wit Not that the Poets have so vast a store But they might very well dispence with more Of late
POEMS Chiefly consisting of SATYRS AND Satyrical Epistles By ROBERT GOULD LICENSED Ian. 8 th 1688 9. LONDON Printed and are to be sold by most Booksellers in London and Westminster MDCLXXXIX TO THE Right Honourable JAMES EARL of ABINGDON c. My Lord IN all Ages the greatest and wisest of Mankind have been the Patrons of Poesie They have taken the Authors into their Converse and their Works into their Bosoms and both in the one and the other have not fail'd of an agreeable and oft a Divine Entertainment But neither of these is to be expected from Me or my Writings These Poets might pretend their Merit to the Favour and Protection of their Patrons Whereas I must consider your Lordship's Condescension to me meerly as an effect of your Goodness which because it would have me do well gave me Encouragement though to do well was not really in my Power However when Vertue and Truth were my Subjects I never fail'd to exert my Endeavours You found me my Lord an Orphan without Fortune or Friends and have rais'd me to both I have had the smiles of many Persons because they knew I had your Lordship's Your Approbation was the Stamp that made me pass almost Vnquestion'd though at the same time you knew or at least I was conscious to my self the Metal was not right Sterling Nor has your Lordship only rais'd me and left me there but setled upon me such a competence as has fixt my Ambition Showing the World you are of the same mind of Timon in Shakespear 'T is not enough to help the feeble up But to support him after But I am not the only proof by many of your Lordship's Bounty 't is of a more diffusive Nature than to be so narrowly confin'd No Man that ever had the Honour of being a Retainer to your Lordship but has known it in a high degree To be admitted your Menial is in effect a Maintainance for Life And what may the good Servant expect when even the bad such as my self meet with Rewards so unproportion'd to any Merit they can pretend by their Service Neither are these Showres of Liberality rain'd only on your Domesticks Strangers as well as they have their share The Widow the Fatherless and the Poor are the continual Objects of your Charity amid'st affairs of the highest moment in which y' are now employ'd you have a thought that stoops to the Relief of the Wretched Our Divine Herbert tells us All worldly Goods are less Than that one good of doing kindnesses This is a Principle you live up to in all its Latitude for certainly your Lordship may pass under this general Character that never any Man was known to you but to his Advantage The Oath Pindar enjoins his Muse in Praise of Theron Prince of Agrigentum might with equal Justice be said of your Lordship Swear in no City e'r before A Better Man or greater Soul was born Swear that Theron sure has sworn No Man near him shou'd be poor Swear that none e'r had such a graceful Art Fortunes Free Gifts as freely to impart With an unenvious hand and an unbounded Heart Cowley The Respect I bear to Gratitude and Truth and the unfeigned Duty I owe your Lordship wou'd not suffer me to pass by making this Declaration which possibly may be no derogation or lessening of your Fame if what I have written happen to live to Posterity They will then see bad as this Age is there was some Vertue extant that there was one just Theme at least for Panegyrick amid'st our num'rous Subjects for Satyr And indeed it must be a sublime Pen that does your Lordship Right who were one of the very first that appear'd in the glorious Occasion of redeeming us from the Merciless Jaws of Popery and Slavery and once more make the reform'd Religion flourish in its primitive Purity as deliver'd to us by the holy Apostles before Innovation and Superstition had crept in and the grand Impostor trampled upon Crowns and Mitres Piety and not Power is the Rock on which the Church shou'd be founded The Fisher to convert the World began The Pride convincing of vain-glorious Man But soon his Follower grew a Sovereign Lord And Peter's Keys exchang'd for Peter's Sword Which still maintains for his adopted Son Vast Patrimonies though himself had none Wresting the Text to the old Gyant 's sense That Heav'n once more must suffer violence Denham 'T is indisputable Popery for many Years has been the source of all the Troubles and Divisions among us And nothing less than we have felt cou'd be expected from the restless Temper and diligent Malice of our Adversaries We have now a new Example though the old ones methinks might have serv'd That Nature Piety Brotherly Love and Charity with all the Sacred Ties that constitute Christianity are of no more strength to them than Sampson's Cords when his Harlot said The Philistins are upon thee Had things run on in that Chanel they had cut for 'em we are not sure the Blood had till now been running in our Veins But 't is to be hoped our Fears of the introducing that Perswasion are over It remains we should be thankful for our Deliverance Honour our Deliverers and endeavour by the Living up to the Religion we profess that Heav'n wou'd grant a Continuance of it to us But to be signal upon this Account is not the only glory of your Lordship your Life is but one continued Series of Honourable Actions which from the first as well as at the late Crisis of Affairs have been known to the Publick and every where discours'd to your Advantage Abingdon is a sound that has reacht every Ear If Poets may presume so far I cou'd methinks prophesy that in after days no name will be more generally celebrated They will ev'n then be secur'd by what has been done now and seeing their Safety Ease and Plenty with a long Uninterruption of their Religion Liberty and Property sprung from such as your Lordship who stood in the Breach when so bold a Blow was struck at the Fundamental Constitution of our happy Establisht Government they must consequently reflect on your Memoires with double Veneration The Poets too of those Times will not be ingrateful but to your Issue describing the Gallantry of their great Progenitors make 'em endeavour to tread in the same tract of Glory Nor indeed should I pass by this subject my self but that 't will be discretion to decline it since I know I am incapable of doing it Justice and for that Reason waving it will be as great a kindness as the little Modesty I have ever did me for I am now at last thoroughly satisfy'd of my inability of performing any thing well in Poesie And if a hearty Protestation of leaving off Writing in that way and betaking my self to those Studies that may make me more useful in the Station your Lordship has placed me will give me a better Title to your Lordship's
Description droops when I 'de thy praise relate And Language fails beneath the pond'rous weight O strange reverse Oft have I sent my cries Through yielding Air up echoing to the Skies How oft in each thick Melancholy Grove Have I sat mourning my improsp'rous Love How oft did I to senseless Trees complain Whose whistling leaves wisper'd back grief again Hard stones of Adamant ev'n seem'd to hear And in Compassion oft wou'd drop a Tear But harder you ne'r wept or lent a pitying Ear. So moving was each tender sigh and groan Ev'n Philomel has ceas'd her midnight mone And thought my melancholy strains more pitious than her own ' Vnkind Relentless Caelia wou'd I cry ' Must I thus scorn'd and thus unpitied dy ' Wou'd she vouchsafe one smile to ease the Slave ' I 'de go without reluctance to the Grave ' But she denies me that what then remains ' But with one stroke to free me from her Chains ' In Death the Lover's eas'd from all unjust ' Her pointed Frowns can't reach me in the Dust. Such were the words my wild despair let fall But this blest moment has o're paid 'em all Thus I methought my Passion 's progress mourn'd When Caelia weeping this reply return'd Amintor how shall I your Peace restore Or how reward the Pangs for me y 'ave bore My Love I fear is a return too small Take with it then my Life my Soul my all All cry'd I By Heav'n the Gift's so great As ev'n in Angels might Desire create And make 'em wish they mortal were like me T' enjoy so fair an Excellence as thee Who if I ever cease t' adore and love May darted vengeance brand me from above And if 't is possible to plague me more Plunge me in sorrow deeper than before What then Dear Charmer what remains but this What but to rush on our approaching bliss But first we 'll seal the Contract with a kiss But Ah! no sooner had the cursed sound Of those last words unwary utt'rance found But the fair Vision took her unseen flight And swiftly vanish't through the shades of night Awak't I started up and gaz'd around But not one glimpse of the dear shadow found 'T was gone 't was gone and with it fled away All the dear hope I had of future Joy Eternally relentless Pow'rs above Must all my constant sighs so fruitless prove As not to pierce the heart of her I love Must I for ever be O cursed State The wretched mark of her obdurate hate Must I for ever in these pangs remain Doom'd to love on yet doom'd to love in vain But 't is your will and I must not complain Yet O ye Powers had you been my Friend So far t o've let the Vision known no end That raptur'd with Imaginary Charms I might have slept whole Ages in her Arms Of all th' unnumber'd Joys you have in store For Vertue nothing cou'd have pleas'd me more But Ah! when we expect a sure relief To find we are but deeper fixt in grief Is of all human Curses sure the chief For know O Caelia O disdainful fair I must still love thee though I still despair Silvia in the Country 1682. AS in that Region where but once a year The Sun does show himself and disappear Leaving no glimpse behind but just to see All Comfort flies away as swift as he Through the dark Plains wild Echo's hoarsly ring And Lyons roar where Birds were us'd to sing If by hard chance some wretch is left behind For 't is a Climate shun'd by human kind He must endure an Age of ling'ring pain E're the bright Lamp of Heav'n returns again So till you left the Town 't was all clear day But night perpetual night now y' are away Like him alas his Northern Climes among Your stay is short but O! your absence long And O! how long so e're it is design'd That killing absence will afflict my Mind Nor me alone for all that know you mourn And all invoke the Gods for your return But why alas do I offend your Ear With that which you perhaps disdain to hear Or wish you back in this ill Town again The vast Exchange of all things lewd and vain When you so much the happier lot enjoy Free from those storms which here our Peace destroy No State-Plots there disturb your blisful hours But every moment is worth ten of ours Where the harmonious Quire in Copses sing Their Airs Divine and prophecy of Spring Where Nature smiles and yields you all things rare At least she sure must smile now you are there No rather let me wish my self with you And to that wish I 'll add this other too That you 'd be gracious to an am'rous Youth Nor let him suffer Martyrdom for Truth Silvia Luke-warm NOw while I languish on your gentle Breast That Pillow where my Cares are hush't to rest While our plump veins are full of youthful fire And nature able to make good desire Why at this Season in Love's choicest prime Shou'd you believe that I indulge a crime To urge enjoyment which you rather ought To think th' effect of Passion than a fault Think dearest Charmer how the Minutes fly And the preventing spite of Destiny Our vig'rous days alas will soon be gone And Impotence and Age come swiftly on Let us not then thus wast the pretious time 'T is that O Silvia that 's the greatest crime For as that fails as that consumes away Who knows too but our Passions may decay Enjoyment will preserve the Flame entire For that 's the fuel that maintains the Fire That 's Love indeed the rest is but desire That is the Oyl that makes the Colours last While Paints in Fresco fret away and wast For pity then change your half-yielding mind To be but kind in part is much unkind Luke-warm Indifferency I cannot bear Such tedious Hopes are worse than quick Despair Silvia Perjur'd SHE has ye Gods forgot the Vows she made And conscious flies the wretch she has betray'd But if she 's yet not past the pow'r of Love If Constancy have Charms or Verse can move I 'll fetch thy Vertue back forgetful fair And prove that plighted Oaths are something more than air In that sad Language I 'll my wrongs impart So lively will I paint my bleeding heart Ev'n thou thy self shalt blush and think it strange It shou'd be capable of such a change Yes fair persidious Maid 't will make thee pause To see all this and know thou art the cause For by your Falshood to soft Peace a Foe I 'm rais'd to the extremest pitch of woe From whence surveying all the numerous fry Of Men I see not one so curst as I. Did Angels know my truth as well as you Ev'n they wou'd wonder Man shou'd be so true But wonder more thou shou'd'st unfaithful prove To such an inexhausted fund of Love. You know and I shall nere forget the time If Love was Vertue then why is it
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
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
this way have grown both great and rich Preferment you can't miss and be a Bitch This is the train that sooths her swift to Vice So she be fine she cares not at what price Though her lewd Body rot and her good name Be all one blot of Infamy and shame For with good rigging though they have no skill They 'l find out Keepers be they ne'r so ill How great a Brute is Man a Nymph that 's true Lovely and Wealthy nay and Vertuous too Of which alas we know there are but few Ev'n such they can despise throw from their Arms And think a thrice fluxt Player has more Charms A greater Curse for these I cannot find Than wishing they continue in that mind Now for the Men and those too we shall find As vile as vain as vitious in their kind Here one who once was as an Author notes A Hawker sold old Books Gazets and Votes Is grown prime Vizier now a Man of parts The very load-stone that attracts all Hearts In 's own conceit that is for ne'r was Elf So very much Enamor'd of himself But 't is no matter let him be so still It gives us the more scope to think him ill No Parts no Learning Sense or Breeding yet He sets up for th' only Judge of Wit. If all cou'd judge of Wit that think they can The arrant'st Ass wou'd be the Wittiest Man. In what e'r Company he does engage He is as formal as upon the Stage Dotard and thinks his stiff comportment there A Rule for his Behaviour every where To this we 'll add his Lucre Lust and Pride And Knav'ry which in vain he strives to hide For through the thin disguise the Canker'd heart is spy'd Let then his acting ne'r so much be priz'd 'T is sure his converse is much more despis'd Another you may see a Comick Spark Aims to be Lacy but ne'r hits the mark Yet that he can make sport must be confest But Echo-like he but repeats the Jest. To be well laught at is his whole delight And 'faith in that we do the Coxcomb right Though the Comedian makes the Audience roar When off the Stage the Booby tickles more When such are born sure some soft Planet rules He is too dull ev'n to converse with Fools A third a punning drolling Bant'ring Ass Cocks up and fain wou'd for an Author pass His Face for Farce nature at first design'd And matcht it too with as Burlesque a mind Made him pert vain a Maggot vile ill-bred And gave him heels of Cork and brains of lead To speak 'em all were tedious to discuss But if you 'l take 'em by the Lump they 're thus A pack of idle pimping spunging Slaves A Miscellany of Rogues Fools and Knaves A Nest of Leachers worse than Sodom bore And justly merit to be punish't more Diseas'd in Debt and every moment dun'd By all good Christians loath'd and their own Kindred shun'd To say more of 'em wou'd be loss of time For it with Justice may be thought a Crime To let such Rubbish have a place in Rhime Now hear a wonder that will well declare How extravagantly lewd some Women are For ev'n these men base as they are and vain Our Punks of highest Quality maintain Supply their daily wants which are not slight But 't is that they may be supply'd at night These in their Coaches they take up and down Publish their foul disgrace o'er all the Town And seem to take delight it shou'd be known And known it shall be in my pointed Rhimes Stand Infamous to all succeeding Times It wou'd be endless to trace all the Vice That from the Play-House takes immediate rise It is the unexhausted Magazin That stocks the Land with Vanity and Sin As the New River does from Islington Through several Pipes supply ev'n half the Town So the Luxurious lewdness of the Stage Drain'd off feeds half the Brothels of the Age. Unless these ills then we cou'd regulate It ought not to be suffer'd in the State. More might be said but by what 's said we see 'T is the sum total of all Infamy And thence conclude by flourishing so long It has undone Numbers both Old and Young That many hundred Souls are now unblest Which else had dy'd in Peace and found eternal rest The End of the Satyr against the Play-House A SATYR UPON MAN. Writ in the Year 1688. TO THE Right Honourable CHARLES EARL of Dorset and Middlesex c. My Lord THE best Excuse the Author of a Dedication can make his Patron is in my Iudgment to assure him he shall not be troubled with his future Impertinence I have oft presum'd upon your Lordship's Goodness and can no otherwise make amends than by protesting this is the last time I shall offend you in this Nature Poetry has hitherto been my Diversion I must take care it does not encroach upon my better Judgment and oblige me to make it my business in order to it I here take a solemn and lasting leave of it Your Lordship has set the Example In your Youth Poesie sometimes snatch't a moment or two from your other Diversions and never indeed did so small time produce so lovely an Issue Whatever you writ was full of that Fancy Wit and Judgment which made and does yet make your Conversation of all things most desirable and charming but now grown to an age mature more solid and sublime things are become the Favorites of your choice and study Poetry shou'd never be entertain'd in a Man's Bosome she may sometimes be admitted to make a Visit and away her constant converse is vain and trivial What Cowley says upon another occasion I cou'd methinks naturally adapt to my present thoughts of Poetry My Eyes are open'd and I see Through the transparent Fallacy Indeed my Lord to be always versifying is to be always wasting the most pretious Gift of Heav'n our Time without so much as the pretence of Gain for an Excuse But say that a Man were worthy of praise and that his Writings really deserv'd it yet that Chamelion diet is a little too thin for a Poet's constitution though I must confess if 't were possible to live upon Air our Modern Rhimers wou'd find out the secret But since 't is not 't is time my Lord to take my leave of an unkind Mistress and not with them doat on till I am in danger of starving I am My Lord Your Lordship 's most humble And much obliged Servant R. Gould Advertisement I Have endeavour'd in this Poem to write as bold Truths as I cou'd and I hope without offence to good Manners Though some may imagine I have swerv'd from it in the Characters at the latter end of the Satyr But I wou'd have the Critick know that if there are really such Persons as be there describ'd they ought to have the Reprehension there given for where Folly and Knavery are so visible I will be so much a Leveller as to
and fear Extend to all each has so large a share That who has least has more than he can bear Either his best Diversions quickly cloy Prey on themselves and so themselves destroy Or some sharp cross cut short his mounting joy In vain he toils for Pleasure ' twon't be found But flies the Searcher like enchanted ground And in a maze of sorrow leads him round and round Well then that Man is happiest who in this Vain World lives free from Care and in the next in Bliss Who neither knows nor cares nor can do any thing amiss This is thy Fate and this thy Soul will save For Heav'n requires no more than what it gave Lays on our minds restraints we well might bear Were we less wise and thy kind Fate our share But grant there are some Men devout and good As Gracious Heav'n avert but that we shou'd Grant Vertue is alone their strictest care And that they 've all a human frame can bear Nay grant from every anxious thought they 're free Which is ev'n an Impossibility They in this World can be but blest like thee But in the next thy Joys will far transcend What they can hope or by good Deeds pretend For since by merit Heav'n can ne're be gain'd Happiest by whom 't is with least sin attain'd Then happiest Thou to whose share it does fall Blessed to be without being Criminal Which ev'n the Wisest never cou'd attain Th' Attempt shall be rewarded but th' Attempt is vain Our Parent Iack the first Created Man If Mysteries Divine we may with safety scan While yet in perfect Innocence he stood Cou'd not perhaps boast so sublime a good As is on thee Heav'ns greater Favorite bestow'd Thy State of sweetness is unmixt with Gall Thou stand'st and art not liable to fall In solid dullness fixt no Charms no Art Of Beauty makes Impression on thy Heart The faithless Sex cou'd ne're thy Fancy move Thou' rt Adamantine Proof against the shafts of Love. That Conq'ring God cou'd never vanquish Thee He 's blind thou did'st not care if he cou'd see At no proud Dowdy's Feet thou e're did'st ly And pine and sigh and grieve and weep and dy As some who like the Heathen heretofore First make the Deity and then adore A light Demeanor and a painted Face No Wit no Vertue with much silks and lace Pass with such Fops for a Resistless Grace In short the Bawds perswasions and her wiles With the kind Nymphs almost resistless smiles Are lost on thee stedfast thou dost remain Shou'd Eve attempt to charm thee 't were in vain Ah! had old Adam been as dull as good Eden had not been lost and Man had stood Ambition which disturbs the Statesman's rest Ne're gains the least Admission to thy Breast Without a pang thou can'st see others rise And take their glorious Station in the Skies See 'em look back with a disdainful Eye On those whose Bounty gave 'em Wings to fly Without concern again thou see'st 'em come From their vast height to an ignoble Doom Like Stars they glitter and as swift decline But ne'r like them must rise again to shine Mistaken Men that labour to be great That still contribute to their own deceit And will not see through the Transparent Cheat. Pride is a Sin too obvious to conceal It puffs the Heart as Butchers do their Veal Looks fair without but probe the hidden Mind The Imposthume breaks and mixes with the wind By it 's own self Narcissus like 't is priz'd But curst is he that is by all but his own self despis'd Nor in the War thou labour'st for a Name By cutting Throats to get Immortal Fame Search through the Race of Brutes and you will find There 's none that preys so much upon his kind As we that boast of an Immortal Mind Cities are tumbled down and Temples rac't And the chief works of God the most defac't Nor is there any hope these Fewds shou'd cease Till we are all like Thee then all wou'd be at Peace In thee no Covetous Desires we find That griping restless Colick of the Mind Devil with Devil damn'd firm Concord hold But Man will disagree are bought and sold Prove Faithless Perjur'd Merciless for Gold. Here one bewitcht with the base itch of Coin Hides it as deep as first 't was in the Mine Still dunning all to whom h' has money due But you must stay if he owes ought to You. Against nought else but want of Cash does pray Dreams on 't all night and hugs it all the day Yet sordid Wretch can carry none away Envious of Mankind's good he 'l angry be His Neighbour is more fortunate than he Nay if thy Wife a moderate Beauty bear He 'l curse his Fate his own is not so fair This Plague for ever is to thee unknown Rich in thy Rags thou let'st each Man in Peace enjoy his own Envy in vain thy Quiet wou'd devour Her Rage is impotent and weak her power She finds her Foe too fearless to attack Goes cursing off and grins as she looks back The silly Sex indeed she does entice For Envy chiefly is a Female Vice Rather than not Revenge they 'l Witches grow But while around their hurtful Charms they throw They 're curst above and double damn'd below Mark but the Course of things and you must own Most men do that they 'd rather let alone Thinks on his present state with wat'ry Eyes Still prone to change with every wish complies And fain wou'd be the thing his Fate denies Roving Desires perplex his labouring thought Still seeking and still missing what is sought Against the stream of Disappointment strives In vain for back th' impetuous torrent drives And makes him to his loss and torture see He 's still Obnoxious to Incertainty Toss'd like a Bubble to and fro he rouls And every trifle his resolve controuls Wretched all ways though Fortune frown or smile There is no end of his incessant toyl And all alas to have his Bantlings fed But see the Curse impendent o'er his head He that moils least has the most share of Bread. The Trading Cit smooth tongu'd demure and sly Who never swears unless 't is to a ly Gets more one Day by bantring off false Ware Than serves the needy Labourer a Year He gets indeed but curst is ill got store Rather than so be Rich let me ye Gods be poor Here One his dozen Voyages performs Breaks through rough Waves and combates Winds and Storms And thus he drudges many tedious Years The Master wreck't at home with wretched Fears Thinks on the Winds the Rocks the Sands and Pirates of Argiers Expects 'em long at last perchance they come Without their Lading Tempest-beaten home Thus for a bootless Voyage he is hurl'd From Pole to Pole and slav'd about the World. But say he gains as many we confess Succeed that don't deserve the least success What lasting what substantial pleasure can Attend this wealthy careful restless Man What