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
more a Fool than thee Content's a Blessing Let us search around And see then where that Blessing 's to be found No Riches like Contentment there 't is meant One may be wealthy and not be content If Riches cannot make a happy Man To human apprehension nothing can In short the Rich the Poor the Peasant Cit Still aim at something which they have not yet And still at something more if that shou'd hit 'T is hard perhaps impossible to find One that has all things suited to his mind Something will be amiss and must be so For to want nothing wou'd be Heav'n below Yet some will think to have it here and some In search of it around the Globe will roam Alas it may be sooner found at home She lives not in the Court or noisy Town But shuns the gilded Roofs and Beds of Down And Robes of State the Ermins that do hide Hypocrisy Debate Revenge and Pride In short we 'll all to this Conclusion bring If not with thee there is not such a thing For true Content impartially defin'd And in thy Breast we see the Blessings join'd Is perfect Innocence and lasting Peace of Mind How much alas of our short time we wast In seeking what we never get at last The true Religion or at least so get As to live up to the strict Rule of it But one Foundation does our Saviour yield But ah how many Pinacles we build Some guided by false Pastors go astray Blinded are such or will not see their way Others need not be driven on the Shelves Foes to the Compass they will wreck themselves Some will have the unfailing Chair their Guide When any Chair wou'd do as well beside And some the private Spirit which is Pride Tomes of Dispute about the World are spread The living still at variance with the dead And after all their shifts from this to that Their unintelligible endless Chat Nor we nor they can tell what 't is they wou'd be at While thus their different Tenents they maintain The Atheist thinks that all Religion 's vain A Pious Cheat ripn'd at last to Law To sham the Croud and keep Mankind in awe Indeed some preach for praise and some for gain And some delight in Notions dull and vain And some in Texts abstruse which Angels can't explain 'T is not for Age it self much more for Youth From such vast heaps of Chaff to sift the sacred truth Thus while we in an anxious Laby'rinth stray Without a Clue and doubtful of the way Giddy with turning round we fall to Death a Prey Away w' are hurry'd all our Life a Dream Or slept away or spent in the Extreme Thou art dear Iack from this hard Fate exempt 'T is thou deserv'st applause and these Contempt This Iargon thou not mark'st or dost not know Thou without this dost mount with this we sink below The Epicureans cou'd not feign their Gods More blest than Thee for in their bright abodes In full Fruition of themselves they lay And made Eternity one sportive Day Careless of all our petty Jars on Earth Which they not minded or but made their Mirth So thou in thy exalted Station plac't Enjoy'st the present Minute e're it wast Thoughtless of all to come forgetting all that 's past Tell me thou man of Knowledge who hast read What Cicero Plato Socrates have said With all the Labours of the Mighty Dead Inform me when the fatal hour comes on And the last sands are hastning to be gone What signifies your Wisdom do you know What the Soul is or whither 't is to go Are not your Minds with dreadful Visions fraught Are you not lost in the Abyss of thought But which is meaner yet can human wit Can all in Pulpits taught in Authors writ Make you contentedly resign your Breath And free you from the slavish Fears of Death An Insect's chattring or a Dog that howls Your merry Crickets and your midnight Owls Makes ye imagine Heav'n has seal'd your doom And summons you to your eternal home On every thought the Spleen strict watch does keep And rides your Haggard Fancy in your sleep Tell me deny th' Assertion if you can Is not my natural Fool the happier Man Remorse he feels not which the best must feel Though guarded with a seven-fold shield of steel And well he feels it for who feels it not Has of the two a yet more wretched Lot. The Stings of Conscience and some Authors say Hell Flames are not more violent than they Nay which is yet far bolder some will tell There is no other needs no other Hell This Plague thou art not troubl'd with thy Breast Is with a constant calm of Peace possest That Wings thee smoothly on to Everlasting Rest. No noisy storms of Nature on the deep Break thy repose which the same state does keep Alike if Winds are still or if they blow And shatter all above and loosen all below No Clangor frightens thee or beat of Drum Or Visions of the dismal day of doom When trembling some awake and cry 't is come 't is come With rowling Haggard Eyes they gaze around And think they hear the last loud Trumpet sound Start'st not in Dreams when lab'ring with short Breath We think w' are plunging down the Precipice of Death When Vapours rise and dreadful thoughts instil Of hissing Fiends and Fears of future ill Thou dost not with such dozing Dolts comply Nor in this worse than dying posturely For to fear Death's more irksom than to dy Free from these horrid Apprehensions found Thy Peace is lasting and thy Rest is sound Let thoughts of Death the Coward Restless keep To dy's no more than to drop fast asleep To rest from endless toyl and wake no more To find those ills that tortur'd us before What wou'dst thou say dear Iack cou'dst thou but mind The shifts the tricks and slavery of Mankind What wou'dst thou say wer't thou to walk the street And mark the two legg'd Herd you 'l daily meet To see some passionately hug and kiss And when past by put out their Tongues and hiss Some creep like Snails and some like Monkeys walk Some all hum drum and some eternal talk Some drest in Silks and some in double Frieze And some with Foot-thick Rolls upon their Knees Wert thou to see 'em drink to an excess But little Reason yet will make it less And when intoxicated draw and stab And cling like a lin'd Bloodhound to their Drab Wer 't thou three hours i' th' Theatre to sit And hear the Fools clap Bombast off for Wit Farce for true Comedy and the good sense That Manly speaks run down for Impudence Were 't thou behind the Gawdy Scenes to go The former Age lov'd sense and we are all for show There see the Fops to Leonora bending Like twenty fawning Spaniels on one Bitch attending Or shou'd'st thou there a base-born Mimick see Hugg'd and Ador'd by Coxcombs of Degree With nothing but his hardned Impudence To
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
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
I 'm ready to expire When cursed Iago cruelly I see Work up the noble Moore to Jealousie How cunningly the Villain weaves his sin And how the other takes the Poison in Or when I hear his God-like Romans rage And by what just degrees he does asswage Their fiery temper recollect their Thoughts Make 'em both weep make 'em both own their Fau'ts When these and other such-like Scenes I scan 'T is then great Soul I think thee more than Man Homer was blind yet cou'd all Nature see Thou wer 't unlearn'd yet knew as much as He In Timon Lear The Tempest we may find Vast Images of thy unbounded mind These have been alter'd by our Poets now And with success too that we must allow Third days they get when part of thee is shown Which they but seldom do when all 's their own Nor shall Philaster the Maids Tragedy Thy King and no King Fletcher ever dy But stand in the first rank that claim Eternity Yet they are damn'd by a pert modern Wit But he shou'd not have censur'd or not writ To blame good Plays and make his own much worse Though I shall spare him does deserve a Curse 'T is true he can speak Greek but what of that It makes men no more wise than Riches fat This Maxim then ought ne'r to be forgot An arrant Scholar is an arrant Sot. Thee mighty Ben we ever shall affect Thee ever mention with profound Respect Thou most Judicious Poet most correct I know not on what single Play to fall Thou did'st arrive t' an Excellence in all Yet we must give thee but thy just desert thou 'd'st less of nature though much more of Art The Springs that move our Souls thou did'st not touch But then thy Iudgment care and pains were such We ne'r yet nor e'r shall an Author see That wrote so many perfect Plays as thee Not one vain humour thy strict view escapes All Follies thou hadst drest in all their proper shapes Hail sacred Bards Hail you Immortal three Y 'ave won the Goal of vast Eternity And built your selves a Fame where you will live While we have Wits to read and they have praise to give 'T is somewhere said our Courtiers speak more wit In Conversation than these Poets writ Unjust detraction like it's Author base And it shall here stand branded with disgrace Not but they had their failings too but then They were such Fau'ts as only spoke 'em men Errors which Human Frailty must allow But ah who can forgive our Errors now If Plays you love let these your Thoughts employ It is a Banquet that will never cloy Chast Moral Writers such as wisely tell The happy useful Art of living well How you may chuse a Mistress or a Friend On which the comfort of our lives depend How you may Flatt'rers Knaves and Bawds avoid By which so vast a portion of Mankind's destroy'd Unlike the Authors that have lately writ Who in their Plays such Characters admit So vile so wicked they shou'd punish't be Almost as much as Oates for Perjury Between 'em both they have half-spoil'd the Age He has disgrac't the Pulpit they the Stage Think ye vain scribling Tribe of Shirley's fate You that write Plays and you too that translate Think how he lies in Duck-lane Shops forlorn And ne'r so much as mention'd but with scorn Think That the end of all your boasted skill As I presume to prophesie it will Justly for many of you write as ill Change change your Bias and write Satyr all Convert the little Wit you have to Gall Care not to what a Bulk your Writings swell What matter is 't how little so 't is well Then turn your chiefest strength against the Stage Which you have made the Nusance of the Age Strive that judicious way to get applause And remedy some of the ills you cause Lash the lewd Actors but first stop your nose It is a stinking Theme may discompose All but your selves almost as bad as those Let this thought screw you to the highest pitch They keep you poor and you have made them rich Toil'd night and day t' encrease their ill got store And who do they despise and laugh at more But make you dance attendance Cap in hand That once like Spaniels were at your Command Wou'd cringe and fawn and who so kind as they If you but promis'd they should have their Play But since Hart dy'd and the two Houses join'd What get ye what incouragement d' ye find Yet still you write and sacrifice your ease Your Plays too shall be acted if they please Let nothing then your sense of wrong asswage The Muses Foes shou'd feel the Muses rage But still confine your self to truth for that Is the main mark Satyr shou'd level at Go not beyond no base thing must be done Let justice and not malice lead you on To please for once I 'll give you an Essay And in so good a cause am proud to lead the way Prepare we then to go behind the Scenes And take a turn among the copper Kings and Queens Here 't is our Callow Lords are fond of such Which their own Footmen often scorn to touch Are these fit to be lov'd to be embrac't Goats are more sweet and Monkeys are more chast Yet by denyal they 'l enflame desire Till the hot Youth burns in his am'rous fire Then wantonly into their Shifts retire Spur'd on by lust the Dunce pursues the Dame Where nightly they repeat the fulsom Game But talking of their shifts I mourn my Friend I mourn thy sad unjust disasterous end Here 't was thou did'st resign thy worthy Breath And fell the Victim of a sudden Death The shame the guilt the horror and disgrace Light on the Punk the Murderer and the Place How well do those deserve the general hiss That will converse with such a thing as this A ten times cast off Drab in Venus Wars Who counts her Sins may as well count the Stars So insolent it is by all allow'd There never was so base a thing so proud Yet Covetous she 'l prostitute with any Rather than wave the getting of a penny For the whole Harvest of her youthful Crimes She hoards to keep her self in future times That by her gains now she may then be fed Which in effect's to damn her self for bread Yet in her Morals this is thought the best Imagine then the lewdness of the rest An Actress now so fine a thing is thought A Place at Court less eagerly is sought When once in that Society enroll'd Streight by some Reverend Bawd you 'l hear 'em told Now is the time you may your Fortune raise And spark it like a Lady all your days But the true meaning 's this Now is the time Now in your heat of youth and Beauty's prime With open Blandishment and secret Art To glide into some keeping Cully's heart Who neither sense nor Manhood understands And jilt him of his Patrimonial Lands Others
and very Dreams infest And as it serv'd old Homer heretofore Lent me it's helping hand to keep me poor However thus far I my Fate must prize I saw the World and did the World despise Its Vices Follies and its Vanities Some of my time was spent in Plays and sport And some my Stars wou'd have it so at Court Where the lewd fry of either Sex resort The Nices and the Flutters there abound Empty in Sense and therefore loud in sound With Parrots too the trifling Dames keep touch Their Wit as little and their Chat as much Some time i th' Temple too I past among That noble Science Fencers of the Tongue What honest Man wou'd herd with such a throng Shou'd a poor Country-man in Term-time stand One hour to see 'em crowd along the Strand He 'd swear the Locusts had o'er run the Land. Thus with strict Eyes I every Vice did mark Cou'd tell who was the Punk and who the Spark That after ten in Summer walk't the Park Cou'd see a Playhouse Strumpet gull a Lord And fluttring Captains run from a drawn Sword And Statesmen laugh at breaking of their word Did hear Vice Vertue Vertue Vice declar'd And so believ'd by the unthinking Herd The Flatt'rer put in trust and who was just Cashier'd Though plac't my self but in an humble sphere Yet cou'd I mark abuses see and hear Nor did an Ass appear through all the Town But if indeed a Coxcomb of Renown But streight I cock't my Pen and had him down Thus Error in its rise I strove to quash And where I spar'd the laugh I gave the lash Hoping at last the vitious wou'd reclaim And better grow either for fear or shame But ah at last I found in vain I writ In vain I threw my Shafts in vain they hit No Reformation follow'd vain my skill Though every Dart was sharp enough to kill Yet Folly Fops and Knavery flourish't still This made me from my Soul abhor the place So prone to Vice and so averse to Grace Repin'd at Fate that did condemn me still To what was most my scorn and irksom to my will And oft petition'd that I might not be A Vassal longer to Dependency O Heav'n still wou'd I cry encline thine Ear To a long harrast Wretch's humble Prayer Riches I do not beg nor length of days Which on the Vitals of the Judgment preys Let me not languish till my Sense decays But long e're second Childhood does come on End Lifes preposterous Journey and be gone This grant I may be Master of my self And live few years in peace in ease and health Nor longer in this hated Town abide Where Factions Biggotry Profaneness Pride Adultery Murder Treason Fraud are found And whirl a lewd fantastick endless round In some far-distant Village let me live A little Income let thy Bounty give A little yet enough and not to spare For where there 's too much cash there 's too much Care A Beechen Bowl the Honour of my Hall Will serve to hold my drink which shou'd not be too small Nor yet so strong as shou'd the Senses steep In an unwholsom and a Death-like sleep When waking the loose Epicure in pains Finds Tumults in his head and fire shoot through his veins There wou'd I sport with what the Season yields Cold shades and sunny Banks and Flow'ry Fields Green Meadows chirping Birds and purling Streams These with my Maker's praise shou'd be my daily Themes There men are drest in their own native shape Not like Court Anticks or the City Ape This clad in Silks and which wou'd make one sick The other wrapt in Furrs two handful thick Cool Searge for Summer they convenient hold And Frieze a Fence against the Winter's cold Design'dly they ne're do their Neighbours ill The Golden Age is extant with 'em still Their converse free and innocent does tell What our grand Parent was before he fell Under his Vine each Man supinely lies While o'er his head the fatal Arrow flies That strikes th' ambitious in their full Career And fills the anxious thoughts of Kings with care Makes 'em despise the glories of a Crown And ly upon the rack on Beds of Down A plain Carriage and an honest Soul A Friendly Gammon and a Cheerful Bowl Y' are sure to meet Unknowing to deceive They wear their inmost mind upon their Sleeve If angry as there 's none from Passion free They 'l not dissemble that you may not see But soon will let you know it sooner will agree Thrice happy who the Country's Peace does know 'T is an Essay a tast of Heav'n below O Blessed Life and O ye ' Immortal Pow'rs Here let me pass my few remaining hours Redeem the time I 've lost e'r the wide Grave devours Not without Tears thus wou'd I oft complain Thus wou'd I pray nor did I pray in vain Kind Heav'n at last inspir'd my Patron 's mind Mecoenas still to Charity enclin'd Mecoenas noble generous just and kind Nor shall the grateful Muse forget his Name Till Vertue cease to be the Theme of Fame You know his Worth too copious to be penn'd The best of Masters and the kindest Friend His Bounty here has fixt my wandring thought And without asking gave the thing he sought Far from the City far from noise and strife An easy frugal temperate studious Life Now Sir you may conclude I thought to find All human things adapted to my mind The Country like Arcadia I believ'd Ah! thus too long I thought and was too soon deceiv'd In vain we toyl and labour to be blest And with a swarm of thoughts our minds molest We grasp but Air when e're we reach at rest The slippery Wanton sometimes comes in sight But in a moment mounts and takes her endless flight And in ascending cries There is no Peace In City Country Waining or Increase Till weary Life does end and all our Labours cease By sad Experience now I find the Swain Is worse than Heathen more a Slave to gain His dullness but a politick disguise To cheat those Coxcombs that believe they 're wise Though not so fine or florid as the Cit His brutish Cunning baulks the other 's Wit. For like the Town the Country's Custom 's Slave More full of Fool and quite as full of Knave And though Vice here is not so frequent known Because the Inhabitants are thinner sown Yet let regard to Quantity be had Drop Man for Man and they are e'en as bad Half void of Reason and quite void of Shame Before they know the Person or his Name They shall expose and gibbet up his Fame Since a good name 's so pretious of all wrongs The worst is suffering from malitious Tongues Which prove all Tortures end not with our Breath For an ill Tongue can wound us after Death Now what Relief yes I Relief may get If I cou'd trace th' Example you have set For seldom in that Function have I found In all things One so Orthodox and sound Cou'd I like you be Master of my Will Keep guard on every thought that 's prone to ill Be ever studious of the publick Good As every true-born worthy Subject shou'd Stand fast ev'n now when Popery does prevail And but for such as You wou'd turn the Scale Cou'd I were I as able in my store With the same liberal hand relieve the Poor Suppress all vain inordinate desires And clip the Wings of Love's fantastick Fires T' Apostasie and Errour be severe And make the vertuous Man as much my care Cou'd I be thus and still be cheerful gay And just as Heav'n avert but that I may I need not value what the envious say Dauntless I 'd stand their rage and take the Field When Vertue 's our Impenetrable Shield The World the Devil Flesh and their loose Agents yield FINIS * Lorrain * A Famous Comedian * One that disperses Lampoons * Eccles. Cha. 1. Ver. 18.
and yet the trash does please Are grown as dang'rous as the French Disease Stum'd mixt adulterate for nothing good But sharpen and corrupt the wholsom blood Not that I am a Foe to the rich juice If it be right and free from all abuse For it helps Fancy makes it walk as high The Muses Friend as 't wou'd without it fly But as the Age goes now good Wine 's as scarce As Truth in Friendship or as Wit in Farce Free from all this and what ere else we find That shocks the peace and quiet of the mind The happy Country Swains supinely ly In the soft Arms of kind obscurity Nor Death nor Poverty by them are fear'd Against the worst of ills they stand prepar'd For a good Conscience is the safest Guard And that they ever have as wronging none And living on that little of their own And very little is a boundless store To him who wisely does desire no more More Instances might easily be shown To prove the Country Life excell'd by none But I shall mention at this time but one One fit to crown the rest and that shall be Good House-keeping and Hospitality The Gentry there can dine upon a Dish Two or three Eggs or some small scraps of Fish You think they 're frugal but 't is all a cheat And this in short's the truth of the deceit They spend so much on Drabs they are not able To live up to their Birth and keep a Table Hence you may guess how they relieve the Poor Two or three Bones perhaps not a bit more Which Footmen and the Dogs had pick't before Footmen I say for in this Courtly Age Though they want Bread they 'l have an Equipage But here 't is seen to their Immortal Fame That Charity is not an empty Name For to the needy they relief dispence With a free heart and general Influence No man can starve if to the Bounty shown They add some little labour of their own Consider but these Truths impartially And I dont doubt but you will soon comply To think as lightly of the Town as I. TO My LORD of ABINGDON c. My Lord PLeas'd with the Fate that from the noisy Town To this Retreat of yours has charm'd me down And at once freed me from the City Foes That are so troublesom to Man's repose The Flatt'rers smiles and the false Friend's embrace Fiend at the heart though Angel on his Face From Tradesmens Cheats ill Poets dogrel Rhimes Which now are grown the grievance of the Times To this add that which does Mankind most wrong The Harlot's Tayl and worse the Lawyer 's Tongue The Lawyer who can be a Friend to none False to our Interest falser to his own For if a future doom their Errors wait Where is that One will pass the narrow Gate The Text that says a Camel may as well Go through a Needle as the Rich scape Hell Was meant of Lawyers for the ill got store That makes one rich has made three Nations poor Had I a thousand Sons e'r one shou'd be A Member of that vile Society I 'd in the Temple hang him up nay boil His Quarters as a Traytor 's are in Oyl To fright all future Villains from the Soil Freed from all this and pleas'd I now am here Where the fresh Seasons breath their vital air And all the various Fragrancies dispence That with a grateful flavour charm the sense On tuneful rapture I my thought employ And am e'en lost in a Poetick Ioy. As when a Lark after a gloomy night The Cloudless Morn indulgent to her flight Stands glad a while stretching her airy Wings Then with a sprightly vigor upward springs So fares my Muse who vail'd in darkness long While the Town Mists obscur'd her humble Song Does now again her wonted spright resume And with gay Feathers deck her airy Plume Looks smiling all around for subject where T' employ her utmost skill and nicest care Some worthy Theme that with a prosp'rous wing She like the Lark may mount and mounting sing But long she need not rove her Game 's in view Sh' approves my choice and says it must be you Whose Praises she has oft long'd to reherse Her dear Mecaenas Patron of her Verse To bless your Choice that here set up your rest Where Innocence and Honesty 's profest And shun the Vice that does large Towns infest Where the loose courtly Coxcombs wast their Days In Brawls in Iilting Game and Bawdy Plays While you in nature prime and vigor's pride The gaudy fry of Vanities deride Temptation still have with firm Soul withstood Nor think your self too Noble to be good But with judicious choice have plac't aright In useful Authors your sublime delight Such as of Heav'n of God and Nature treat Religious Philosophical and great These with nice Judgment and a piercing Eye You search and into hidden causes pry Nature explore make abstruse notions plain And find what men well learn'd have sought in vain Ah wou'd the Atheist seriously encline Like you to study things that are Divine Observe how God's high Wisdom does disperse His pow'rful Genii through the Vniverse How orderly Sun Moon and Stars advance Create the Seasons in their various Dance And shew their Essence not the work of Chance But that some Power first made and is the Soul That actuates and maintains the mighty Whole Wou'd he but faithfully on this reflect With just Confusion he 'd his crime reject And when unprejudic't by Reason see In the least spire of grass the Deity But such you rather pity than deride Led on by Sin and hoodwink't by their Pride To say they 're Fools they 'd think a gross abuse Yet if they 've sense alas where 's the excuse That can put such a Gift to such a use Than Beasts why are we better but to know And contemplate the Power that made us so Though living these let vain expressions fly And to be Hero's thought high Heav'n defy They 're sordid Cowards when they come to dy The boldest of 'em shrink unhappy Men 'T is well indeed they see their errour then But ah that shou'd not be left last to do For late Repentance scarce is ever true Happy the Man that to be Vertuous strives And is prepar'd when the black hour arrives Ten thousand Fears he daily does eschew That in wild shapes the guilty wretch pursue His Smooth-pac't-hours glide pleasantly away His troubles vanish and his Comforts stay For of all good with which Mankind is blest That of a clear untainted mind is best Which you enjoy for all your Actions show The Fountains Purity from whence they flow In Converse charming and in courage brave A lasting Eye-sore to the Fool and Knave Not rapt with Pleasure nor with grief deprest But to your steady temper owe your rest Honour is talk't of much and some men think ' Stead of Embalming Names it makes 'em stink As being oft but nasty popular Breath A Fume
in Life and nothing after Death And to their shame it in most men holds good For Honour lives i th' Mind more than i th' Blood. What signifies it though one boast he brings His Pedigree from Conquerours and Kings If he debase the Stock from whence he springs Strips merit bare prefers the flatt'ring Slave And is himself a Coxcomb or a Knave If he be thus let what will be his stem There is more Honour in a Dog than him He only is the Honourable Man That ne'r does ought unworthy of his Name In this Exemplar path you bravely show How far a true Heroick Soul may go And then to make the summ compleat we find Your Noble Birth proportion'd to your Mind And they both shine the more when with each other join'd By Honour such as this good deeds are nurst For who has this can never be unjust And Justice we in all you do may scan Without which what a Brutish thing is Man How undeserving the high name he bears That can do worse by 's Fellow Creatures than wild Beasts by theirs Nor must we here forget what ought to be Admir'd and prais'd by all your Charity On those that love the Poor what Joys attend But chiefly this he makes his God his Friend Who that had Charity e'r was a Slave Or who e'r wanted the relief he gave Let those ye Pow'rs be poor themselves that be Regardless of the Sting of Poverty And to be plain what pity can they find From Heav'n that are so dogged to their kind Has the rich man a greater God than they Or can he boast he 's made of finer Clay 'T was Charity redeem'd us from the Sin Which our first Parents Fall had plung'd us in Set us within the view of Heav'n and can We do no more at his Command that did so much for Man In short who can like you Rich Knaves despise With dull Buffoons that get their Bread by Lies And the yet duller Fops that think 'em wise That hate the Town the Mart of all false Ware With all the Villanies that flourish there Whom Tawdry Courts to Folly can't entice Those Antick Schools of fashionable Vice Before all this prefers his Country Seat And rellishes the sweets of his Retreat ' Thinks it a Blessing London cannot give So lives nay more and so designs to live That loaths the sordid Flatt'rer though he be Belov'd by Kings and Rascals of Degree That strives to counter-act the Ages Crimes And be a good Man in the worst of Times Who fearless can do all these worthy things We ought to prize above the wealth of Kings The mighty Nine united Forces raise And with a noble flight adorn their praise Pardon my Lord that I have here so long Done both your Vertue and your Patience wrong On One I have intrench't but blame my fau't Nor have describ'd the other as I ought Yet since you condescend t' indulge my Muse What you encourage you 'l perhaps excuse For kindly you on her endeavours smile And with a Bounteous hand reward her Toyl O had I strength to ballance my desire Or wou'd the God Heroick thought inspire To your high Worth a lasting Fame I 'd give Nor shall it dy if what I write does live TO The Reverend M r Francis Henry Cary c. Upon my fixing in the Country THough all Afflictions that ill Fate can send Against our Peace of mind their batt'ry bend We have a Refuge if we have a Friend There we stand safe his smiles our hearts revive Suspend Despair and keep our Hopes alive Permit me then if I may dare presume To think your Breast retains for me a room Who not deserve that Friendship I implore But will endeavour to deserve it more Permit me yet to hope your pitying Ear While by my sorrows past I paint my present care Complaining oft brings the sad Soul relief And is a kind of Sabbath to our grief Young and scarce able yet to get my Bread My pious Parents mingled with the Dead Both happy now free from Misfortunes power Who did pursue 'em to their latest hour Industrious Careful Frugal still they were But 't is not Toyl Industry Art or Care That always gets a Portion for the Heir Ill Fate to their Endeavours was unkind They ne'r accomplish't what they oft design'd Nor left the Orphans a support behind No method how to live no stay no hold Such was our Case and Charity is cold Money is still an Antidote to Woe For that 's a Friend who ever is a Foe Nay which was yet an equal wretched Lot The little I had learnt was soon forgot There was foundation laid for something good But rac'd before its use was understood So oft the first Bloom of the Spring is lost Nipt with the lagging rear of Winters Frost But ah there 's hope that will again revive But Learning blasted once no more will thrive My springing years alas will soon be gone The Winter of my Age comes rowling on The Grass does wither and rough Winds do blow My head alas will soon be crown'd with Snow Ev'n now the Soil's too bare for such a Plant to grow Which ought to be well tender'd while 't is young The Branches then spread wide and it takes rooting strong Thus e'r I knew to hope by Fortune crost Future Preferment and my Hopes were lost Else I perhaps the Holy Badge had born Which is by you with so much Honour worn As does redeem it from the Atheist's scorn At least some gainful study I had made My choice nor been to various wants betray'd Just as the Lark does from the Hobby flee So Man from Man in his Adversity When plung'd in Water if they see we swim Some pitying hand may pull us to the brim But sunk though all have skill not one will dive The hapless Wretch comes up no more alive So when once poor so tedious are supplies There 's scarce a possibility to rise Thus failing here to servitude I ran And was a Slave before I was a Man A Slave to some of Arbitrary Will Learn'd in the snarling Art of using Servants ill As if the Hireling were of courser Clay Brown Earthen Ware and of right China they China indeed kept only for a Show ' Tother 's for use and God wou'd have us so From thirteen Years to Thirty was I tost In various Stations and much time was lost In various Stations here unfit to name Servants of all degrees are but the same Though some will flutter in their Lords cast Cloaths The only Coxcomb that my nature loaths Trick't up in all his Foppery yet alas He 's but a tawdry thread-bare selfish Ass Abounds in Flatt'ry Nonsense lies and noise Despis'd by men of sense and mockt by senseless Boys The servile Rake-hell French in this excel And we as servile Mimick 'em too well Among these evils Poesy not least Took full Possession of my Careless Breast And did my talk my thoughts