for Truth such deep Researches make A florid Muse thro' all his Writings flows And what 's profound as beauteous also shows Him to salute 's more than to win a Prize Forbear t' aspire th' art here to sacrifice On th' Altar of his Worth a Grain to lay A Debt all Ages like to this will pay Conform unto my Will thy self apply Without Reluctance on his Board to ly Among the barking Pamplets that attend Till tir'd he from his Study does descend He 'll thee distinguish from black-mouth'd T. Gs. I. Os the Vnitarians and R. Bs. Skill'd in all Ways Ancients and Moderns write Master of one the rest he does not slight He knows the most that Epigrams pretend Is to relax the Mind and not to bend Epigram 3. On Lewis the Great Many beside have born this glorious Name But like to thee none with so just a Claim Pompey was stil'd for early Conquests Great Henry the fourth whose Prowess did defeat The League of France combin'd with Rome and Spain To this high Title likewise did attain But what did these to that which thou hast done Supported Asia ruin'd Christendom All Lorrain Flanders Germany do show The Devastations they to thee do owe Thy treach'rous Plots have made all Nations quake Even the Foundations of thine own to shake Nor against Men do'st only shew thy Might But thy bold Hand dares 'gainst Religion fight The faithful in thy Kingdom undergo Such Pursecutions Heathens ne'er did show To the Great Turk true Brother and Allie Thou do'st both Pope and Protestant defy Witness thy Pillar rais'd in Rome of Infamy And to maintain thy Name of Great thro' all Great thy Disgraces are and great thy Fall All by Surprize or Brib'ry thou hast won Harra'st by Fire by Sword and over-run The injur'd Princes with united Pow'r Have forc'd thee vomit as thou did'st devour Thy Forts have storm'd thy Forces put to rout Strip't thee unto the State thou first set'st out Nought but the Guilt and Horror do remain Of Millions thou hast begger'd starv'd and slain Orange Despis'd wrought chiefly thy Defeat Lewis in Querpo write no more the Great Epigram 4. On a scurrilous Detractor Thou say'st 'gainst Lewis sharply I inveigh But of King Iames I nothing ill do say And may my Tongue and Vitals also rot When I attempt his sacred Name to blot In his disast'rous State God's Hand I see With deeper sense tho from thy Malice free The Blessings from this Revolution flow The Obligations all King William owe To wit the Kingdoms Safety and Advance That Slaves we are not made to Rome and France Nor do I doubt he justly fills the Throne By Pleas as strong as Birth claims it his own But what of this That which I ought revere Reflect upon with a religious Fear Shall I with Insolent and barb'rous Pride Tread under Foot and brutishly deride The Royal Head a Crown did late adorn Dress up a Trophy with Contempt and Scorn May Davids Curses fall on them delight To persecute whom God does wound and smite This Prodigy our Eyes of late have seen The Sacrosanct blasphem'd Pug made denote a Queen Vermin our Prelats those o' th' scarlet Robes Judges and Lords stil'd Scoundrels Dunghil Rogues Church Rites prophan'd so little said to avail As not of worth to wipe a Porter's Tail The Coronets of Barons Dukes and Earls Embellish't all with the like Gems and Pearls Archbishop Land whose Life whose Death whose Pen Enrols him justly 'mong the greatest Men And Cosins who so many Years made good Our Churches Cause the Rage of Priests withstood I' th' Loâ—ver Walls with Hazzard of his Blood With other Worthys vilely are defam'd While wicked Iones is as a Patriarch nam'd Whose Praise with those the worthless Wretch did know Makes all that 's writ beside for nothing go Did not the sordid Stile the Thought gain-say Some great one wou'd be said another Day Things of so high a Nature to display The num'rous Facts the Buffoon dares relate No one cou'd know tho Minister of State What 's true what 's false what 's hearsay and surmise What few dare think his scurrilous Leaves comprize What can such matchless Impudence repay All his own Dirt heap'd on him should we lay As the Case stands it were to do him Grace Among the greatest and the noblest place No Pow'r of Words can what he is express Satyr wou'd fail Invectives be found less His Prototype no Age before e'er saw His loathed self must his loath'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 draw Epigram 5. On Criticks Suns wrapt in Mists Stars in a cloudy Night Who Darkness cast where you do promise Light When Readers you have rack'd and Authors vext Your Gloss is oft' obscurer than the Text Light to some ins'lent Phrase when any seek Th' uncouth Latine you explain by Greek And when one Word wou'd the hard Knot undo Affect your reading not the Sense to shew You Ref'rences with Heaps of Figures make Which rarely recompence the Pains Men take And always do presume that Books are by To clear a Trifle ask a Lib'rary To boast your selves to your own Tribe you pride To vie with Criticks not the Novice guide Epigram 6. On one that had a stinking Mouth Thou oft complain'st thy Meat does thee no good Nor is it possible it ever shou'd Passing thy Mouth thou art with Poison fed The wonder only is thou art not dead Epigram 7. On Coscus Coscus whose Worth lyes all in his Estate His Love to a fair Maid did thus relate Your Beauty does so captivate my Heart Your Chains I cannot break by any Art I have discours'd what Folly it will be To yoke my Riches with your Poverty With Reasons like but all I found in vain And nothing cou'd remove my senseless Pain Or put a Period to this vexing Strife Till I resolv'd to take you for my Wife The Gen'rous Maid hearing the Brutal Woe Whether to frown or laugh she did not know But said Who was it Precious Sir that told I 'd be your Wife Was 't your Prophetick Gold Or your Oracular Land They both did lye These Cattel may but Me they ne'er shall buy Epigram 8. On one that had a stinking Breath Thy poisonous Breath not able when to bear I turn'd my Face but lent thee still My Ear But thou impatient to be understood Turn'd as I turn'd and right before me stood Which forc't me thus my Suff'ring to disclose Men with their Ears do hear not with their Nose Epigram 9. On a stupid rustick Sinner When against Sin in gen'ral thou dost'st hear The heavy'st Threats the Sound does strike thy Ear But very little does affect thy Heart Because thou say'st thou shalt but hear thy Part And there 's a World that must divide the Smart When Knaves thou hear'st do only purchase Hell Thou say'st My Gains are sweet I cannot tell That Drunkards unto Heaven shall never come Body of me say'st thou a heavy Doom No Fault
once I e'er Appearance made At solemn Times to th' Temple I do go To pay the Duty to the Gods I owe But while I there before their Altars pray'd Two Noble Youths to Ruine I betray'd As I am charg'd Beauty my constant Scorn Is made my Crime a Crime was with me born If one and which I never did adorn Th' Addresses of all Lovers I oppose But what shou'd make alarms my soft Repose My Strictness rude Insults does often cause To the Affront of Vertue and of Laws Early this Morning I was thus advis'd Stand on your Guard or you will be surpriz'd Our Neighbour Tyrant vows he 'll you obtain By Stratagem or War your Person gain No Refuge I a helpless Virgin have But in the Sanctuary of a timely Grave A Judge i' th' Name o' th' rest did thus declare Exc'lent Apamia sink not in despair Your Honour as our own we do respect And as our Gods and Temples will protect All here will bleed who on this Bench do sit Before the Wrong you apprehend permit Is there said she that Witchcraft in my Face As to confound the wisdom of this Place Who to be Author of a War am I And that the State shou'd be my Guaranté My Life no way can make my Country blest And I 'll not be her Helen and her Pest. Regard to this Tribunal I have paid Address according to the Edict made To ease the Perturbations that I feel There is no Way but by this friendly Steel While yet she spoke she gave the fatal Wound The Glory of the Age fell with her to the Ground The sixth Address A Philosopher SInce Reason first awaken'd in my Soul Lusts to subdue and Passions to controul Have been my Strife on Vertue wholly bent The Lectures of the Wise I did frequent The fam'd for Science and good Conduct heard My Masters chose by Learning not by Beard Like others of my Age I did not rome The Schools when shut but ply'd good Books at home And when I more confirm'd in Strength did grow The Duty all Men to their Country owe Arm'd I 'mong her martial Squadrons show Nor in the Camp was I of mean Renown The Civil thrice I wore and twice the Mural Crown My Years of Warfare thus in Honour spent To th' intermitted Schools again I went Lectures of Use not Ostentation read To Peace and War our younger Nobles bred My Strength is spent Age has my Vigour broke A doted Trunk I 'm now was once an Oak Like to a Servant past his Work I sue For Manumission as his Right and Due Worthy Eubulus 't was to him reply'd Thy Vertuous Acts can be by none deny'd And 't is the Senat 's great Reproach and Brand That 'fore this sad Tribunal thou dost stand After a Life so good deserts so high That thou no Boon shou'd'st ask but leave to dye Does Grief afflict thee or does Want oppress Thine will be held the Commonwealths Distress Eu. My Gracious Lords 't wou'd my Pretences shame On such Accounts if for Support I came My Ways were ever just my Mind is sound No Guilt I know with little I abound Goodness it self cannot my Wants relieve I 'm broke by time and Youth you cannot give Useless I 'm grown this Thought does me oppress To see my Age than my first Years do less A Service for me could you yet descry I 'd it dispatch and after that I 'd dye But if 'gainst Nature I must only fight Age Aches and Diseases put to flight Against such Foes 't is Folly to contend And Leave I beg to make a Wise Man's End If so resolv'd the Senate does decree A Statue to preserve thy Memory And to thy own sage Counsel leaves thee free The seventh Address A desperate Lover STrait to th' amazed Bench perk't up in View One with a Garland hanging all askew His loose Attire suiting his reeling Crown Th' officious Guard address'd to pluck him down But to the Lords for Audience he did cry And said I 'm one of those come here to dye The Courts Regard I claim and to be heard No less than the last Speaker grave Sir Beard My Words despise not 'cause I come thus dress'd Haste urg'd me to unload my burden'd Breast I from a Banquet leapt My Lords of late T' an Hebrew Philosoph I did relate The Cause why here you sit in short to try To make Men live or give them leave to dye Says he this hearing Make you then no Odds Between your Senate and a Bench of Gods To punish Criminals with Death I know The Magistrates have Pow'r but can they show Commission too th' afflicted to give leave Themselves of Life at Pleasure to bereave This high Prerogative is Heav'n's alone Nor without Sacriledge any can it own The meanest Soldier that his Post forsakes Without Dismission his Deaths Process makes And shall not those who undismiss'd do leave This Life as great a Penalty receive A Dotard pleads Age useless him has made By Sickness Madam's Beauty is decay'd A Gormand losing his wild Boar and Pie The Earth hangs round with Sables and the Skie But the black Guilt which presses you 'bove all Divine Apamia in this Court did fall This makes me face you thus without all Dread To scorn your Fasces now the Virgin 's dead If these were Causes Murder to avow Why do you not all Crimes beside allow Make Theft and Incest to your Verdict bow Self-Murder's Murder what Laws e'er you coyn And while the Sin you licence in 't you joyn But a Barbarian does this Doctrine preach Is Truth not Truth unless a Greek it teach Pythagoras and Plato were more wise These learn'd Barbarians they did not despise What in their Writings so divine does show Tho not confess'd they unto these do owe. Hearing to gain I said I came to die And my Contempt declares I did not lie The Court Eubulus all did on him gape But to his Speech no Answer they cou'd shape Only to save their Honour did declare So high an Insolence they ought not bear But th' Effronté altho they did commit On like Account they never more did sit Epigram 1. To Candidus THou art impetuous I shou'd still write more Tho thrice in print I 've promis'd to give o'er and Promise a fourth time so it will produce An Epigram that 's good there will need no Excuse Altho thy Words do sound thus mad and wild They flatter so I am by them beguil'd Into the Deep again my Bark I lanch Where if it founder prove not tight and stanch In my Defence thou art oblig'd to say I the old Fool did to the Floods betray Epigram 2. On the Right Reverend Dr. E. Stillingfleet Lord Bishop of Worcester When thou this Venerable Name do'st hear Wholly confounded Muse thou do'st appear From severe Studys say'st he 's never free Nor to impede them Fond one send I thee Thou add'st tho none in antick Dust does rake Like him
something did absurd appear Which others does invite the Cause to see But looking round the Jest they find in thee Epigram 59. On Priscus That the Satyrick Mirror I do place Before my Books them out of Hopes to grace Whether more Pride or Folly I do show Both are so eminent thou do'st not know For tho the Fancy well with Martial suits My Epigrams the meaning in 't confutes Counsel I 'll here return thee for thy Scorn Thy self with fair and borrow'd Plumes adorn If they 'll engage thee 'bove thy self to live Such Pride and Folly all will thee forgive Epigram 60. On Mercia Three snotty Girls and two can wipe their Nose Th' art Mother of and do'st thy self suppose A kind of Niobe ambitious art That these thy beauteous Offspring bear a Part Among the Deitys that rule this Town Thinking a Country Life of no Renown If this Conceit does from thy self arise Whate'er thou dream'st thou art not over wise If from thy Children to comply were cruel To please the younger in their Watergruel Allow more Plums and Sugar a Lace more Or Fringe unto the elder on this score A London Goddess is a Bully's Whore Epigram 61. To Justus Where my best Pow'rs thou say'st shou'd all combine T' extol the Great my Verse does most decline My Care 's not less but such above it shine Epigram 62. On the Present Parliament The factious Members the Year Fourty met The Ship o' th' State when tight and stanch o'erset But when by Storms ready to bulge or strand You like good Pilots brought her safe to Land When Shelves and Rocks did her Destruction doom Worse than the Ocean knows those in the See of Rome The Dangers of the Main she easier bore Than the fierce Hurricanes she met on Shore But no black Clouds your Counsels overcast Sent forth no ruffling no seditious Blast Feign'd Jealousies in you no Place cou'd find Ambition or base Int'rest taint your Mind But as the King his Person did expose Your Aids brought double Terror on our Foes The Wants in which our Fleet or Army stood Next Loyal Session constantly made good Even Mines you feem'd to spring of richest Oar In this our Isle were never known before The Kingdoms Strength we to your Wisdoms owe Which till you taught our selves we did not know Th' insuperable Burdens we did fear Easy and practicable made appear Which Acts have purchas'd you this rare Renown The Darling of the People and the Crown Epigram 63. On a Wittall Vast in Estate in Heart and Stature small A Wife was given thee proud majestick tall Who o'er thee eas'ly did the Empire gain Her Presence aw'd thee to resign the Rein. Me thy Comrade thou brought'st with thee to dine But did'st in this I found transgress thy Line For when thy haughty Wife approach'd the Board Led by two Gallants she did not afford A Look to thee or me her Bullys did caress And all thy Servants did to them address They rul'd commanded revell'd in thy Cheer Thou did'st the Guest and they the Lords appear Both shameful and deplorable's thy Case They seem'd to cuckold thee before thy Face And tho they planted on thy Brow the Horn To flatter and collogue with thee did scorn Aesop's old Fable's moral'd in thy House The Marriage of the Lioness and Mouse Epigram 64. On a Coward Thy brawny Limbs thee to bear Arms betray'd A Soldier first and then a Captain made Upon the Court of Guard not any He Dares more profess or durst do less than thee Foe thou ne'er saw'st but in a Fortress lay For if thou had'st thou wou'dst have run away Too good a Christian art to fight a Duel But where thou might'st with Safety to be cruel Thou think'st it brave also to rant and swear If these are Crimes know'st not what Vertues are Drunk on a Time thou rudely did'st assay The Vintner's Wife but sorely for 't did'st pay Her Husband wou'd not pass it for a Slip But his blew Apron drub'd thy Captainship Nor offer'd'st thou to draw when he did rout thee Thy Wits tho' lost the Fears thou had'st about thee Epigram 65. On three little Boys Coming from Church upon a Holy-day Their Father ask'd What did the Vicar say What have you brought o' th' Sermon One did tell The Text Chapter and Verse and that was well Apologiz'd by Silence for the rest The Mother hugg'd the younger in her Breast And ask'd what have you brought my Joys and Loves He meekly said my Handkercher and Gloves Epigram 66. To Lupus Thou call'st my Verses nought and so much more Because they come from fourscore Years and four Name 'em not Verse but Anguish and Disease And then perhaps they will the better please For tho but mean vile Epigrams they prove Groanings and Coughings th' are a Strain above Epigram 67. On a conceited Poet. Conceit like thee did never Man deceive Of Modesty and Judgment so bereave Thou do'st avow with Pride so over-grown Mens Works thou read'st but only lov'st thine own Think'st that Apollo cannot reach thy Strain Shou'd he attempt he wou'd attempt in vain Reciting ought thou strangely do'st rejoyce And shew'st it in thy Gestures Looks and Voice At ev'ry Verse behold'st the Hearers Face How he approves th' inimitable Grace Thy Betters Brother Poets deign'st to call Thinking the Honour thou confer'st not small Demand'st if any equal thee in Wit When all 's Cacata Charta thou hast writ This Lesson to thy self for Cure reherse A Fool in Morals is an Ass in Verse Epigram 68. On Thyrsis Sitting with Thyrsis by a purling Brook In 's well tun'd Verses I great Pleasure took So soft so gentle so harmonious sweet They mov'd like Down which has the Air for Feet He sung the Wonders in Amintas Face Her charming Speech and captivating Crace Shew'd her a Miracle awake a-sleep A seeming Goddess when she drove her Sheep From Gems from Flow'rs from Stars their Beauty drew Which brighter in her Form than in themselves did shew Astonish'd and transported with his Song Thyrsis said I even raving how I long To learn thy Skill He bid me take for Theme Th' adjoyning Grove and gently flowing Stream My boist'rous Verse of Leaves bereav'd the Wood And swell'd the gliding Waters to a Flood My Friend said he your Metre wou'd not fail To raise a Tempest in a Milk-Maid's Pail To Love I soft and melting Numbers owe They not from reading but from Passion flow Your Head is hâ—ary Yet again I 'll try But doting thus within a Covert nigh Both Cupid and my Muse I did espy Her angry Sense with Frowns she did deliver He laugh'd and shook the Shafts from out his Quiver Epigram 69. On a decay'd Beauty Pouder'd and patch'd thick laid with white and red One of those Dames feign Beauty when 't is fled Besought me with a quaint well-bred Address Her little Cur to celebrate in Verse Hoping at least I 'd make her hold the Dog Embarras'd worse than
well nigh unto Despair Time did his Peace restore her Grace decay The Maid remain'd when Beauty fled away Disdaining now he turn'd aside his Eye And said Times past how great a Fool was I Epigram 81. On Thyrsis and Alinda Alinda constant Thyrsis did adore And the bright Maid from all Pretenders bore Grown grey himself and she 'mong Matrons nam'd He ne'er forgot Times past how she was fam'd But said when all the Nymphs he did behold None my Alinda equals tho she 's old Epigram 82. On Bardus The noblest Marts of Books in all the Town Thou haunt'st among the Learn'd to get Renown Spend'st many Hours in turning o'er and o'er Both Greek and Latine Authors a vast Store Feigning to read but dost in truth but pore Understand'st none writ'st in a Book contains Just such a Treasure as thy worthless Brains Exhaust'st thy Spirits altho hail and strong A Dog ' twoul'd tire that did not sleep so long The Pains thou tak'st thy Ign'rance to disguise If well employ'd wou'd make thee learn'd and wise Epigram 83. A Farewel to Poetry I yield at length Reason and Age conspire To quench the Flame of my Poetick Fire These Words my Muse scarce utter'd yet did hear And charm'd up like a Spirit did appear Roses and Laurel were her Heads Attire Her pearl-trimm'd Harp was strung with Golden Wyer The Myst'ry in her Garments none cou'd spell Such wond'rous Fancy did in them excel Thus in her Glory she her self array'd More powerfully my fleeting to upbraid Ingrate she said what is it you propose With what Support will next your Dotage close Who shall your Pains divert Droopings revive Men will say There you sit but not alive This and much more enraged and high-flown She fiercely spoke supposing me alone But when she paus'd surpriz'd she did behold A rev'rend Dame of Heav'nly Form the old Her Hand a Book her Mantle Stars adorn'd Her Visuage Moses like was ray'd and horn'd With God as he she nearly did converse And of his Glory bore a bright Impress DEVOTION was her Name The Muse abash'd Her Figure 'fore she spoke her Boldness dash'd The Freedom she had shew'd she blushing blam'd Even of her Youth and Beauty seem'd asham'd Within your Bounds the Matron said contain Divine Effects ascribe not to what 's vain Your Art cou'd Pains divert but cou'd not cure A Flash of Life infuse not make t' endure The Ill-at-ease joy'd of 't to take the Air In your rough jolting Epigrammic Chair Which vary'd Griefs but did not them impair On downy Wings I 'll bear him far above All that is Mundane Pain Ambition Love Where all delights and nothing does annoy Sorrows are drown'd in Extasies of Joy These Words had Force the Muse her self t' inspire Who to a higher Key strait wound her Lyre And proselyted on the Earth cast down Low at Devotions Feet her Laurel Crown Resolv'd hereafter ne'er to wear the Bayes But on account of singing Heavenly Layes ERRATA PAge 3. line 7. read bear p. 9. l. 14. r. Tables p. 9. l. 16. r. Beauty p. 45. l. 13. r. Y' exalt p. 50. l. 12. f. it r. and p. 53. l. 11. r. dar'st p. 72. l. 11. r. Natures Shape p. 84. l. 10. f He r. One p. 94. l 10. r. theie days FINIS Books Printed for Henry Bonwicke at the Red Lion in St. Paul's Church-yard EPigrams of Martial Englished with some other Pieces ancient and Modern 8 o. Pia Desideria or Divine Addresses in 3. Books 1. Sighs of the Penitent Soul 2. Desires of the Religious Soul 3. Exstacies of the Enamoured Soul Illustrated with 47. Copper Plates Written in Latin Englished by Edm. Arwaker M. A. In 8 o. A New Description of Paris containing a particular Account of all the Churches Palaces Monasteries Colleges Hospitals Libraries Cabinets of Rareties Academies of the Virtuosi Paintings Medals Statutes and other Sculptures Monuments and Publick Inscriptions with all other remarkable Matters in that great and famous City Translated out of French To which is added a Map of Paris 12 o. Country Conversations being an Account of some Discourses that happened in a Visit to the Country last Summer on divers Subjects chiefly of the Modern Comedies of Drinking of Translated Verse of Painting and Painters of Poets and Poetry 8 o. Letters of Religion and Vertue to several Gentlemen and Ladies to excite Piety and Devotion with some short Reflections on divers Subject In 12 o. FINIS The Kings-Bench Cabal A SONG To the Tune hark hark I hear the Cannons rore I. ETernal Whig that still depends On Old Sham-Plots perjured ends Toth ' Kings-Bench amongst your friends Repair to make new Orders Make haste contrive some better way Or by the Gods you 'll loose the day Great York is now above half way To Revenge all Rape and Murthers II. We 're the best House of Commons now That once have made three Kingdoms bow Put in spew out as you know how fear Popery the old Notion Let 's purge the House of all that 's good That have our Cause so long withstood And dares not thirst for guiltless blood E'r York's upon the Ocean III. Great Hamden Rouse thy wonted strain Bring Trenchard into play again Vote down the guards and ev'ry swain That dares oppose our pleasure For to submit they would be loath Thy Father and thy Grand-Sire both To have ones hands ty'd up by Oath That may be loose at leisure IV. Let 's Vote the Duke out of the Town The King out of both Life and Crown Vote Death to all that keeps us down To leave the Cause a bleeding Shall we lie here ty'd up like Dogs Only Croaking our minds like Frogs While here the Doctor swears and flogs And leaves off all proceeding V. Come Speak and Bradon Arnold too Colt and Caldron what shall 's do Shall 's lie like Oysters here in stew And ne'r look out for help for 't Let 's send for Oxford Parliament With all their Guards for murther bent Come let 's attempt e'r Coin be spont Tho' each one Damn himself for 't VI. Shall we who were so great before Have neither power to plot nor whore Come let 's resolve break down the dore And joyn the Kent-street Rable Then Wapping and the Rump will rise The Tower and Westminster surprise While Charles and York at Windsor lies We 'll make this Town like Babel LONDON Printed for J. Dean Bookseller in Cranborn-street near Newport House in Leicester Fields 1684. * Cephissus was the River of Athens Eurotas of Sparta