upon repulse unmov'd she bears And still sues on while she her suit despairs FINIS A SATYR UPON A WOMAN Who by her Falshood and Scorn was the Death of my Friend Written in the Year 1678. LONDON Printed for Io. Hindmarsh 1681. A SATYR Upon a WOMAM who by her Falshood and Scorn was the Death of my Friend NO she shall ne're escape if Gods there be Unless they perjur'd grow and false as she Though no strange judgment yet the murd'ress seize To punish her and quit the partial Skies Though no revenging light'ning yet has flasht From thence that might her criminal beauties blast Though they in their old lustre still prevail By no disease nor guilt it self made pale Guilt which blackest Moors themselves but own Would make through all their night new blushes dawn Though that kind soul who now augments the blest Thither too soon by her unkindness chas'd Where may it be her smallest and lightest doom For that 's not half my curse never to come Though he when prompted by the high'st despair Ne're mention'd her without an Hymn or Prayer And could by all her scorn be forc'd no more Than Martyrs to revile what they adore Who had he curst her with his dying breath Had done but just and Heaven had forgave Though ill-made â—aw no Sentence has ordain'd For her no Statute has her Guilt arraign'd For 〈◊〉 Womens scorn and Doctor 's 〈◊〉 All by a 〈◊〉 way of murder kill Though she from justice of all these go free And boast perhaps in her success and cry 'T was but a little hâ—â—â—â—less perjury Yet thinks she not she still secure shall prove Or that none dare avenge an injur'd love I rise in judgment am to be to her Both Witness Judge and Executioner Arm'd with dire Satyr and resentful spite I come to haunt her with the ghosts of Wit My ink unbid starts out and flies on her Like blood upon some touching murderer And shou'd that fail rather than want I wou'd Like Hags to curse her write in my own blood Ye spiteful pow'rs if any there can be That boast a worse and keener spite than I Assist with malice and your mighty aid My sworn Revenge and help me Rhime her dead Grant I 〈…〉 Infamy So plain so deeply grav'd on her that she Her Skill Patches nor Paint all joyn'd can hide And which shall lasting as her Soul abide Grant my rank hate may such strong poison cast That every breath may taint and rot and blast Till one large gang'rene quite o'respread her fame With foul contagion till her odious name Spit at and curst by every mouth like mine Be terror to her self and all her line Vil'st of that viler Sex who damn'd us all Ordain'd to cause and plague us for our fall WOMAN nay worse for she can nought be said But Mummy by some Devil inhabited Not made in Heavens Mint but basely coin'd She wears an humane image stampt on fiend And whoso Marriage would with her contract Is Witch by Law and that a meer compact Her Soul if any Soul in her there be By Hell was breath'd into her in a lye And its whole stock of falshood there was lent As if hereafter to be true it meant Bawd Nature taught her jilting when she made And by her make designed for the trade Hence 't was she daub'd her with a painted Face That she at once might better cheat and please All those gay charming looks that court the eye Are but an ambush to hid treachery Mischief adorn'd with pomp and smooth disguise A painted skin stuff'd full of guile and lyes Within a gawdy Case a nasty Soul Like T of quality in a gilt Close-stool Such on a Cloud those flatt'ring colours are Which only serve to dress a Tempest fair So men upon this Earths fair surface dwell Within are Fiends and at the center Hell Court-promises the Leagues which States-men make With more convenience and more ease to break The Faith a Jesuite in Allegiance swears Or a Town-jilt to keeping Coxcombs bears Are firm and certain all compar'd with hers Early in falshood at her Font she lied And should even then for perjury been tried Her Conscience stretch'd and open as the Stews But laughs at Oaths and plays with solemn Vows And at her mouth swallows down perjur'd breath More glib than bits of lechery beneath Less serious known when she doth most protest Than thoughts of arrantest Bustoons in jest More cheap than the vile mercenariest Squire That pliâ—s for Half-crown Fâ—es at Westminster And trades in staple Oaths and Swears to hire â—â—ss gâ—â—lt than hers less bâ—â—â—ch of Oath and Word Has stood alost and look'd through 〈◊〉 â—anceboâ—â—d And he that trusâ—s her in a Death-bed-Prayer Has 〈◊〉 to mâ—rit and save any thing but her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 her gilt dâ—scription does out go 〈…〉 it out-strip my Curses too Curses which may they equal my just hate My wish and her desert be each so great Each heard like Prayers and Heaven make 'em fate First for her Beauties which the mischief brought May she affected they be borrow'd thought By her own hand not that of Nature wrought Her Credit Honour Portion Health and those Prove light and frail as her broke Faith and Vows Some base unnam'd Disease her Carkass foul And make her Body ugly as her Soul Cankers and Ulcers eat her till she be Shun'd like Infection loath'd like Infamy Strength quite expir'd may she alone retain The snuff of life may that unquench'd remain As in the damn'd to keep her fresh for pain Hot Lust light on her and the plague of Pride On that this ever scorn'd as that denied Ach anguish horror grief dishonour shame Pursue at once her body soul and fame If e're the Devil-love must enter her For nothing sure but Fiends can enter there May she a just and true tormenter find And that like an ill-conscience rack her mind Be some diseas'd and ugly wretch her fate She doom'd to love of me whom all else hate May he hate her and may her destiny Be to despair and yet love on and die Oâ—â—o invent some wittier punishment May he to plague her out of spite consent May the old fumbler though disabled quite Have strength to give her Claps but no delight May he of her unjustly jealous be For one that 's worse and uglier far than he May's impotence balk and torment her lust Yet scarcely her to dreams or wishes trust Forc'd to be chast may she suspected be Share none o' th pleasure all the infamy In fine that I all curses may complete For I 've but curs'd in jest and rallied yet Whate're the Sex deserves or feels or fears May all those plagues be hers and only hers Whate're great favourites turn'd out of doors Sham'd Cullies bilk'd and disappointed Whores Or losing Gamesters vent what Curses e're Are spoke by sinners raving in despair All those fall on her as they 're all her due Till spite can't think nor Heaven inflict anew May then for once I will be kind and pray No madness take her use of Sense away But may she in full strength of reason be To feel and understand her misery Plagu'd so till she think damning a release And humbly pray to go to Hell for ease Yet may not all these suff'rings here atone Her sin and may she still go sinning on Tick up in Perjury and run o' th' score Till on her Soul she can get trust no more Then may the stupid and repentless die And Heaven it self forgive no more than I But so be damn'd of meer necessity FINIS ERRATA PAge 2. line 19. read there p. 4. l. 16. r. it p. 7. l. 1. r. an p. 25. l. 3. r. curse p. 30. l. 2. r. Title p. 35 l. 18. r. bantring p. 44. l. 14. r. meals p. 46. l. 2. r. line l. 9. r strow'd p. 47. l. 5. r. Natives p. 48. l. 19. r. Numbers p. 49. l. 2. r. made l. 8. r. write l. 14. r. shamelesness p. 5â— l. 1. were is wanting p 59. l. 8. r. unknowing p. 94. l. 7. r. Maniples p. 9. l 7. r. vile l. 8. r. with p. 98. l. 3. r. Mortality l. 5. r. thrice cursed p. 99. l. â— r. goodly l. 14. r. to providence p. 100. l. 2. r. heretofore disgusted p. 101. l. 7. r. Iilt l. 14. r. though p. 102. l. 8. r. Humane kind l. 11. 1. r. known l. 14. r. reach'd p. 104. l. 6. r. Beards l. 14. r. on p. 105. l. 2. r Ruines l. 4. r. varnish with her l 13. r. Quiet and l. 15. r. too combin'd p. 106. l 8. r. Project p. 107. l. 5. r. defie l. 8. r. dull unbred Fools l. 15. height of spirit l. 16. mean soul'd Offenders l. 17. Debauches p. 108. l. 3. r. Ev'n Iove l. 15. r. Impiety p. 109. l 3. r. Carian l. 4. Monarchs l. 10. r. Spite p. 110. l. 3. r. to his l 11. Pitch is wanting p. 111. l. 4. r. Around l. 7. r. grown l. 9. thy Act p. 112. l. 5. r. great'st in Hell l. 8. r. Examples l. 11. r. Unknown unheard unthought of l. 12. r. methinks p. 113. l. 2. r. Stock for company the wide Plantations down l. 17. r. that sin'd l. 18. r. Crime p. 114. l. 5. r. he begot p. 115. l. 11. r. her speak p. 117 l. 9. thought is wanting l. 18. r. the base Itch p. 118. l. 10. r. a Genius l. 15. r. by 't l. 16. r. He 'd shoot his Quills next l. r. them p. 119. l. 1. pâ—inted is wanting l. 3. r. And all should think him Heav'ns
late reigning Witch th' Enchantment broke It shall again Hell and I say 't have ye But courage to make good the Prophesie Not Fate it self shall hinder Too sparing was the time too mild the day When our great Mary bore the English sway Unqueen-like pity marr'd her Royal Pow'r Nor was her Purple dy'd enough in Gore Four or five hundred such-like petty sum Might fall perhaps a Sacrifice to Rome Scarce worth the naming had I had the Pow'r Or bin thought fit t' have bin her Councellor She should have rais'd it to a nobler score Big Bonfires should have blaz'd and shone each day To tell our Triumphs and make bright our way And when 't was dark in every Lane and Street Thick flaming Hereticks should serve to light And save the needless Charge of Links by night Smithfield should still have kept a constant fire Which never should be quench'd never expire But with the lives of all the miscreant rout Till the last gasping breath had blown it out So Nero did such was the prudent course Taken by all his mighty successours To tame like Hereticks of old by force They scorn'd dull reason and pedantick rules To conquer and reduce the harden'd Fools Racks gibbets halters were their arguments Which did most undeniably convince Grave bearded Lions manag'd the dispute And reverend Bears their doctrins did confute And all who would stand out in stiff defence They gently claw'd and worried into sence Better than all our Sorbon dotards now Who would by dint of words our Foes subdue This was the riged discipline of old Which modern sots for Persecution hold Of which dull Annalists in story tell Strange legends and huge bulky volumus swell With Martyr'd Fools that lost their way to hell From these our Church's glorious Ancestours We 've learnt our arts made their methods ours Nor have we come behind the least degree In acts of rough and manly cruelty Converting faggots and the pow'rful stake And Sword resistless our Apostles make This heretofore Bohemia felt and thus Were all the num'rous proselites of Huss Crush'd with their head So Waldo's cursed rout And those of Wickliff here were rooted out Their names scarce left Sure were the means we chose And wrought prevailingly Fire purg'd the dross Of those foul heresies and soveraign Steel Lopt off th' infected limbs the Church to heal Renown'd was that French Brave renown'd his deed A deed for which the day deserves its red Far more than for a paltry Saint that died How goodly was the Sight how fine the Show When Paris saw through all its Channels flow The blood of Huguenots when the full Sein Swell'd with the flood its Banks with joy o'reran He scorn'd like common Murderers to deal By parcels and piecemeal he scorn'd Retail I' th' Trade of Death whole Myriads died by th' great Soon as one single life so quick their Fate Their very Pray'rs and Wishes came too late This a King did and great and mighty 't was Worthy his high Degree and Pow'r and Place And worthy our Religion and our Cause Unmatch'd 't had bin had not Mac-quire arose The bold Mac-quire who read in modern Fame Can be a Stranger to his Worth and Name Born to outsin a Monarch born to Reign In Guilt and all Competitors disdain Dread Memory whose each mention still can make Pale Hereticks with trembling Horrour quake T' undo a Kingdom to atchieve a crime Like his who would not fall and die like him Never had Rome a nobler service done Never had Hell each day came thronging down Vast shoals of Ghosts and mine was pleas'd glad And smil'd when it the brave revenge survey'd Nor do I mention these great Instances For bounds and limits to your wickedness Dare you beyond something out of the road Of all example where none yet have trod Nor shall hereafter what mad Catiline Durst never think nor 's madder Poet feign Make the poor baffled Pagan Fool confess How much a Christian Crime can conquer his How far in gallant mischief overcome The old must yield to new and modern Rome Mix Ills past present future in one act One high one brave one great one glorious Fact Which Hell and very I may envy Such as a God himself might wish to be A Complice in the mighty villany And barter's heaven and vouchsafe to die Nor let Delay the bane of Enterprize Marr yours or make the great importance miss This fact has wak'd your Enemies and their fear Let it your vigour too your haste and care Be swift and let your deeds forestall intent Forestall even wishes ere they can take vent Nor give the Fates the leisure to prevent Let the full Clouds which a long time did wrap Your gath'ring thunder now with sudden clap Break out upon your Foes dash and confound And scatter wide destruction all around Let the fir'd City to your Plot give light You raz'd it half before now raze it quite Do 't more effectually I 'd see it glow In flames unquenchable as those below I 'd see the Miscreants with their houses burn And all together into ashes turn Bend next your fury to the curst Divan That damn'd Committee whom the Fates ordain Of all our well-laid Plots to be the bane Unkennel those State-Foxes where they ly Working your speedy fate and destiny Lug by the ears the doting Prelates thence Dash Heresie together with their Brains Out of their shatter'd heads Lop off the Lords And Commons at one stroke and let your Swords Adjourn 'em all to th' other world Would I were blest with flesh and bloud again But to be Actor in that happy Scene Yet thus I will be by and glut my view Revenge shall take its fill in state I 'le go With captive Ghosts t' attend me down below Let these the Handsells of your vengeance be Yet stop not here nor flag in cruelty Kill like a Plague or Inquisition spare No Age Degree or Sex onely to wear A Soul onely to own a Life be here Thought crime enough to lose 't no time nor place Be Sanctuary from your outrages Spare not in Churches kneeling Priests at pray'r Though interceding for you slay ev'n there Spare not young Infants smiling at the brest Who from relenting Fools their mercy wrest Rip teeming Wombs tear out the hated Brood From thence drown 'em in their Mothers bloud Pity not Virgins nor their tender cries Though prostrate at your feet with melting eyes All drown'd in tears strike home as 't were in lust And force their begging hands to guide the thrust Ravish at th' Altar kill when you have done Make them your Rapes the Victims to attone Nor let gray hoary hairs protection give To Age just crawling on the verge of Life Snatch from its leaning hands the weak support And with it knock't into the grave with sport Brain the poor Cripple with his Crutch then cry You 've kindly rid him of his misery Seal up your ears to mercy lest
put on Their savage cruelty the rest had gone His hand had sent old Adam after too And forc'd the Godhead to create anew And yet 't were well were their foul guilt but thought Bare sin 't is something ev'n to own a fault But here the boldest flights of wickedness Are stampt Religion and for currant pass The blackest ugliest horrid'st damned'st deed For which Hell flames the Schools a little need If done by Holy Church is sanctified This consecrates the blessed Work and Tool Nor must we ever after think 'em foul To undo Realms kill Parents murder Kings Are thus but petty trifles venial things Not worth a Confessor nay Heav'n shall be It self invok'd t'abet th' impiety Grant gracious Lord Some reverend Villain prays That this the bold Assertor of our Cause May with success accomplish that great end For which he was by thee and us design'd Do thou t' his Arm and Sword thy strength impart And guide 'em steddy to the Tyrants heart Grant him for every meritorious thrust Degrees of bliss above among the Just Where holy Garnet and S. Guy are plac'd Whom works like this before have thither rais'd Where they are interceding for us now For sure they 're there Yes questionless and so Good Nero is and Dioclesian too And that great ancient Saint Herostratus And the late godly Martyr at Tholouse Dare something worthy Newgate and the Tow'r If you 'l be canoniz'd and Heav'n ensure Dull primitive Fools of old who would be good Who would by vertue reach the blest abode Far other are the ways found out of late Which Mortals to that happy place translate Rebellion Treason Murder Massacre The chief Ingredients now of Saintship are And Tyburn onely stocks the Calendar Unhappy Iudas whose ill fate or chance Threw him upon gross times of ignorance Who knew not how to value or esteem The worth and merit of a glorious crime Should his kind Stars have let him acted now H 'ad dy'd absolv'd and dy'd a Martyr too Hear'st thou great God such daring blasphemy And letst thy patient Thunder still lie by Strike and avenge lest impious Atheists say Chance guides the world has usurp'd thy sway Lest these proud prosperous Villains too confess Thou' rt sensless as they make thy Images Thou just and sacred Power wilt thou admit Such Guests should in thy glorious presence sit If Heav'n can with such company dispense Well did the Indian pray Might he keep thence But this we onely feign all vain and false As their own Legends Miracles and Tales Either the groundless calumnies of spite Or idle rants of Poetry and Wit We wish they were but you hear Garnet cry I did it and would do 't again had I As much of Bloud as many Lives as Rome Has spilt in what the Fools call Martyrdom As many Souls as Sins I 'de freely stake All them and more for Mother Churches sake For that I 'll stride o're Crowns swim through a Flood Made up of slaughter'd Monarch's Brains and Blood For that no lives of Hereticks I 'll spare But reap 'em down with less remorse and care Than Tarquin did the poppy-heads of old Or we drop beads by which our prayer's are told Bravely resolved and 't was as bravely dar'd But lo the Recompence and great Reward The wight is to the Almanack preferr'd Rare motives to be damn'd for holy Cause A few red letters and some painted straws Fools who thus truck with Hell by Mohatra And play their Souls against no stakes away 'T is strang with what an holy impudence The Villian caught his innocence maintains Denies with oaths the fact untill it be Less guilt to own it then the perjury By th' Mass and blessed Sacraments he swears This Mary's Milk and t'other Mary's Tears And the whole muster-roll in Calendars Not yet swallow the Falsehood if all this Won't gain a resty Faith he will on 's Knees The Evangelists and Ladie 's Psalter kiss To vouch the Lye nay more to make it good Mortgage his Soul upon 't his Heaven and God Damn'd faithless Hereticks hard to convince Who trust no Verdict but dull obvious Sense Unconscionable Courts who Priests deny Their Benefit o' th Clergy Perjury Room for the Martyr'd Saints behold they come With what a noble Scorn they meet their Doom Not Knights o' th Post nor often carted Whores Shew more of Impudence or less Remorss O glorious and heroick Constancy That can forswear upon the Cart and die With gasping Souls expiring in a Lye None but tame Sheepish Criminals repent Who fear that idle Bugbear Punishment Your Gallant Sinner scorns that Cowardice The poor regret of having done amiss Brave he to his first Principles still true Can face Damnation Sin with Hell in view And bid it take the Soul he does bequeath And blow it thither with his dying Breath Dare such as these profess Religions Name Who should they own't and be believed would shame It's Practice out o' th World would Atheists make Firm in their Creed and vouch it at the Stake Is Heaven for such whose Deeds make Hell too good Too mild a Penance for their cursed Brood For whose unheard-of Crimes and damned Sake Fate must below new sorts of Torture make Since when of old it fram'd that place of Doom 'T was thought no Guilt like this could thither come Base recreant Souls would you have Kings trust you Who never yet kept your Allegiance true To any but Hell's Prince who with more ease Can swallow down most solemn Perjuries Than Bullies common Oaths and canting Lies Are the French Harries Fates so soon forgot Our last blest Tudor or the Powder-Plot And those fine Streamers that adorned so long The Bridge and Westminister and yet had hung Were they not stoln and now for Relicks gone Think Tories loyal or Scotch Covenanters Rob'd Tygers gentle courteous fasting Bears Atheists devout and thrice-wrack'd Mariners Take Goats for Chast and cloyster'd Marmosites For plain and open two-edg'd Parasites Believe Bawds modâ—st and the shameless Stews And binding Drunkard Oaths and Strumpet's Vows And when in them these Contradictions meet Then hope to find 'em in a Loyolite To whom tho gasping should I credit give I 'd think 't were Sin and damn'd like unbelief Oh for the Swedish Law enacted here No Scarecrow frightens like a Priest Guelder Hunt them as Beavers are force them to buy Their Lives with Ransom of their Lechery Or let that wholsome Statute be reviv'd Which England heretofore from Wolves reliev'd Tax every Shire instead of them to bring Each Year a certain Tale of Iesuits in And let their mangled Quarters hang the I le To scare all future Vermin from the Soil Monsters avaunt may some kind Whirlwindsweep Our Land and drown these Locusts in the deep Hence ye loth'd Objects of our Scorn and Hate With all the Curses of an injur'd State Go foul Impostors to some duller Soil Some easier Nation with your Cheats beguile Where your gross common Gulleries may
Wafer next a God and then a 'T is this that does th' astonish'd Rout amuse And Reverence to shaven Crown infuse To see a silly sinful mortal Wight His Maker make create the Infinite None boggles at th'impossibility Alas 't is wondrous heavenly Mystery None dares the mighty God-maker blaspheme Nor his most open Crimes and Vices blame Saw he those hands that held his God before Strait grope himself and by and by a Whore Should they his aged Father kill or worse His Sisters Daughters Wife himself too force And here I might if I but durst reveal What pranks are plaid in the Confessional How haunted Virgins have been dispossest And Devils were cast out to let in Priest What Fathers act with Novices alone And what to Punks in shriving Seats is done Who thither flock to Ghostly Confessor To clear old debts and tick with Heav'n for more Oft have I seen these hallow'd Altars stain'd With Rapes those Pews with Buggeries profan'd Not great Cellier nor any greater Bawd Of Note and long experience in the Trade Has more and fouler Scenes of Lust survey'd But I these dang'rous Truths forbear to tell For fear I should the Inquisition feel Should I tell all their countless Knaveries Their Cheats and Shamms and Forgeries and Lies Their Cringings Crossings Censings Sprinklings Chrisms Their Conjurings and Spells and Exorcisms Their motly Habits Manciples and Stoles Albs Ammits Rochets Chimers Hoods and Cowls Should I tell all their several Services Their Trentals Masses Dirges Rosaries Their solemn Pomps their Pageants and Parades Their holy Masques and spiritual Cavalcades With thousand Antick Tricks and Gambols more 'T would swell the summ to such a mighty score That I at length should more volum'nous grow Than Crabb or Surius lying Fox or Stow. Believe what e're I have related here As true as if 't were spoke from Porph'ry Chair If I have feign'd in ought or broach'd a Lie Let worst of Fates attend me let me be Pist on by Porter Groom and Oyster-whore Or find my Grave in Jakes and Common-shore Or make next Bonfire for the Powder-plot The sport of every sneering Huguenot There like a Martyr'd Pope in Flames expire And no kind Catholick dare quench the Fire A SATYR AGAINST VERTUE Aude aliquid brevibus Gyaris aut carcere dignum Si vis esse aliquis Juven Sat. LONDON Printed for Io. Hindmarsh 1680. TO THE READER THIS had never seen the Light but that the Publisher does propose Gain to himself by it and Interest you know governs the World It cannot I am sure do much hurt for that there are but few will understand it and for the more ingenious I hope they will make better use of it T. A. A POEM Supposed to be spoken by a Town-Hector PINDARIQUE In imitation of Mr. Cowley NOW Curses on ye all ye vertuous Fools Who think to fetter free-born souls And tie 'um up to dull morality and rules The Stagyrite be damn'd and all the Crew Of Learned Idiots who his steps pursue And those more silly Proselytes whom his fond precepts drew Oh had his Ethicks been with their wild Author drown'd Or a like Fate which these lost Writings found Which that grand Plagiary doom'd to fire And made by unjust Flames expire They ne're had then seduc'd Morality Ne're lasted to debauch the world with their lewd Pedantry But damn'd and more if Hell can do 't be that their cursed name Who e're the Rudiments of Law design'd Who e're did the first model of Religion frame By nought before but their own power or will confin'd Now quite abridged of all their Primitive Liberty And slaves to each capricious Monarchs Tyranny More happy Brutes who the great Rule of Sense observe And ne're from their first Charter swerve Happy whose lives are meerly to enjoy And feel no sting of sin which may their bliss annoy Still unconcern'd at Epithets of ill or good Distinctions unadulterate Nature never understood 2. Hence hated Vertue from our godly Isle No more our joys beguile No more with thy loath'd presence plague our happy state Thou enemy to all that 's brisk or gay or brave or great Be gone with all thy pious meagre Train To some unfruitful unfrequented Land And there an Empire gain And there extend thy rigorous command There where illiberal Natures nigardise Has set a Tax on Vice Where the lean barren Region does enhance The worth of dear intemperance And for each pleasurable sin exacts excise We thanks to Heaven more cheaply can offend And want no tempting Luxuries No good convenient sinning opportunities Which natures bounty could bestow or Heavens kindness lend Go follow that nice Goddess to the Skies Who here too sore disgusting at increasing Vice Dislik'd the world and thought it too prophane And timely hence retired and kindly ne're return'd again Hence to those airy Mansions rove Converse with Saints and holy folks above Those may thy presence woo Whose lazy case assords them nothing else to do Where haughty scornful I And my great Friends will ne're vouchsafe thee company Thou 'st now a hard unpracticable good Too difficult for flesh and blood Were I all soul like them perhaps I 'de learn to practise thee 3. Vertue thou solemn grave impertinence Abhorr'd by all the men of wit and sense Thou damn'd fatigue that clogst lifes journey here Though thou no weight of wealth or profit bear Thou puling fond Green-sickness of the mind That makest us prove to our own selves unkind Whereby we Coals and Dirt for diet chuse And Pleasure better food refuse Curst ill that lead'st deluded Mortals on Till they too late do find themselves undone Chous'd by a Dowry in reversion The greatest Votary thou e're could'st boast Pity so brave a Soul was on thy service lost What wonders he in wickedness had done Whom thy weak power could so inspire alone There long with fond amours he courted thee Yet dying did recant his vain Idolatry At length though late he did repent with shame Forc'd to confess thee nothing but an empty name So was that Leacher gull'd whose haughty love Design'd a Rape on the Queen Regent of the Gods above When he a Goddess thought he had in chase He found a gaudy vapour in the place And with thin Air beguil'd his starv'd embrace Idely he spent his vigour spent his blood And tyr'd himself to oblige an unperforming Cloud 4. If Human bind to thee ' ere worship paid They were by ignorance misled That only them devout and thee a Goddess made None hap'ly in the Worlds rude untaught infancy Before it had out-grown its childish innocence Before it had arriv'd at sense Or watch'd the manhood and discretion of Debauchery None in those antient godly duller times When crafty Pagans had ingross'd all crimes When Christian fools were obstinately good Nor yet their Gospel freedom understood Tame easie Fops who could so prodigally breed To be thought Saints and dye a Calender with red No prudent Heathen e're seduc'd could be