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So vaft, our new Divines, we must confess,

Are Fathers of the Church for writing less.
But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
The deeds, and dextroufly omits, fes heires:
No Commentator can more flily pafs
O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;

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Or, in quotation, fhrewd Divines leave out
Those words, that would against them clear the doubt.
So Luther thought the Pater-nofter long,
When doom'd to fay his beads and Even-fong;

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But having caft his cowle, and left thofe laws,
Adds to Christ's pray'r, the Fower and Glory clau ́e.
The lands are bought; but where are to be found
Those ancient woods, that shaded all the ground?
We fee no new-built palaces afpire,

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No kitchens emulate the vestal fire.

by a new claufe. This reprefentation of the first part of his conduct was to ridicule his want of devotion; as the other, where he tells us, that the addition was the power and glory claufe, was to fatirize his ambition; and both together to infinuate that, from a Monk, he was become totally fecularized. ---About this time of his life Dr. Donne had a strong propensity to Popery, which appears from several strokes in thefe fatires. We find amongst his works, a short satirical thing called a Catalogue of rare books, one article of which is intitled, M. Lutherus de abbreviatione Orationis Domiricæ, alluding to Luther's omiffion of the concluding Doxology, in his two Catechifms, which fhews he was fond of the joke; and, in the first instance, (for the fake of his moral) at the expence of truth. As his putting Erafmus and Reuchlin in the rank of Lully and Agrippa, fhews what were then his fentiments of Reformation.

Where the old landlords troops, and almes? In halls Carthufian Fafts, and fulfome Bacchanals

Equally I hate. Mean's bleft. In rich men's homes

I bid kill fome beasts, but no hecatombs ;

None starve, none furfeit fo. But (oh) we allow Good works as good, but out of fashion now, Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none draws

Within the vaft reach of th' huge statutes jawes.

VER. 127. Treafon, or the Law.] By the Law is here meant the Lawyers.

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Where are those troops of Poor, that throng'd of yore
The good old landlord's hospitable door?
Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes
Some beasts were kill'd, tho’ not whole hecatombs ;
That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
Carthufian fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals;
And all mankind inight that just Mean observe,
In which none e'er could surfeit, none could starve.
These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow; 12T
But oh! these works are not in fashion now :
Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare,
Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.

Thus much I've said, I trust, without offence;
Let no Court Sycophant pervert my sense, 126
Nor sly Informer watch these words to draw
Within the reach of 'Treason, or the Law.

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SATIRE IV.

WE

ELL; I may now receive, and die. My fin
Indeed

is great, but yet I have been in

A Purgatory, fuch as fear'd hell is

A recreation, and fcant map of this.

My mind, neither with pride's itch, nor hath been Poyfon'd with love to fee or to be feen,

I had no fuit there, nor new fuit to show,
Yet went to Court; but as Glare which did go
To Mafs in jeft, catch'd, was fain to disburse
Two hundred markes, which is the Statutes curse,
Before he fcap'd; fo it pleas'd my destiny
(Guilty of my fin of going) to think me
As prone to all ill, and of good as forget-
full, as proud, luftfull, and as much in debt,
As vain, as witlefs, and as falfe,, as they
Which dwell in Court, for once going that way.

VER. 19. Nor the vain itch t' admire, or be admir'd ;] Courtiers have the fame pride in admiring, that Poets have in being admir'd. For Vanity is as often gratified in paying our court to our fuperiors, as in receiving it from our inferiors..

SATIRE IV.

WELL

ELL, if it be my time to quit the stage,
Adieu to all the follies of the age!

I die in charity with fool and knave,
Secure of peace at least beyond the grave.
I've had my Purgatory here betimes,
And paid for all my fatires, all my rhymes.
The Poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
To this were trifles, toys and empty names.

With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd,
Nor the vain itch t'admire, or be admir'd;
I hop❜d for no commiffion from his Grace;
I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place;
Had no new verses, nor new suit to show;
Yet went to Court!—the Dev'l would have it fo.
But, as the Fool that in reforming days.
Would go to Mass in jeft (as story says)
Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
Since 'twas no form'd defign of ferving God;
So was I punish'd, as if full as proud
As prone to ill, as negligent of good,
As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
As vain, as idle, and as falfe, as they

Who live at Court, for going once that way!

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