« PredošláPokračovať »
IR; though (I thank God for it) I do hate Perfectly all this town; yet there's one state In all ill things fo excellently beft;
That hate towards them, breeds pity towards the reft. Though Poetry, indeed, be fuch a fin,
As, I think, that brings dearth and Spaniards in :
Never, till it be ftarv'd out; yet their state
One (like a wretch, which at barre judg'd as dead,
Yet prompts him which stands next, and cannot read, And faves his life) gives Idiot Actors means,
(Starving himself) to live by's labour'd scenes. As in fome Organs, Puppits dance above
And bellows pant bellow, which them do move.
One would move love by rythmes; but witchcraft's
Bring not now their old fears, nor their old harms;
ES; thank my ftars! as early as I knew
That all befide, one pities, not abhors;
It brought (no doubt) th' Excise and Army in:
But that the cure is ftarving, all allow.
One fings the Fair; but fongs no longer move;
Rams, and flings now are filly battery,
Piftolets are the best artillery.
And they who write to Lords, rewards to get,
VER. 44. In what Commandment's large contents they dwell.] The Original is more humourous,
In what Commandment's large receit they dwell. As if the Ten Commandments were fo wide, as to ftand ready
In love's, in nature's fpite, the fiege they hold,
Wretched indeed! but far more wretched yet Is he who makes his meal on others wit: 'Tis chang'd, no doubt, from what it was before, His rank digeftion makes it wit no more: Sense, past thro' him, no longer is the fame; For food digefted takes another fame.
I pass o'er all those Confeffors and Martyrs, 35 Who live like S-tt-n, or who die like Chartres, Out-cant old Efdras, or out-drink his heir, Out-ufure Jews, or Irishmen out-fwear; Wicked as Pages, who in early years Act fins which Prifca's Confeffor fcarce hears. Ev'n those I pardon, for whofe finful fake Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make; Of whose strange crimes no Canonift can tell In what Commandment's large contents they dwell.
to receive every thing within them, that either the Lar of Nature or the Gospel commands. A just ridicule on thefe practical Commentators, as they are called, who include all moral and religious Duties within them.
But these punish themselves. The infolence
His title of Barrifter on ev'ry wench,
And wooes in language of the Pleas and Bench.**
The tender labyrinth of a Maid's foft ear:
More, more than ten Sclavonians fcolding, more
Then fick with Poetry, and poffeft with Muse