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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,
As I think, that brings dearth and Spaniards in :
Never, till it be ftarv'd out; yet their state
Is poor, difarm'd, like Papifts, not worth hate.
One (like a wretch, which at barre jud❜gd as dead,
Yet prompts him which ftands next, and cannot read,
And faves his life) gives Idiot Actors means,
ES; thank my ftars! as early as I knew
That all befide, one pities, not abhors;
I grant that Poetry's a crying fin;
It brought (no doubt) th' Excise and Army in
Catch'd like the Plague, or Love, the Lord knows
Yet like the Papift's, is the Poet's state,
Here a lean Bard, whofe wit could never give
One would move love by rythmes; bur witchcraft's charms
Bring not now their old fears, nor their old harms; Rams, and flings now are filly battery,
Pistolets are the best artillery.
And they who write to Lords, rewards to get,
But he is worst, who beggarly doth chaw
Rankly digested, doth those things out-fpue,
But these do me no harm, nor they which use, to out-ufure Jews, Toutdrink the fea, t'out-fwear the Letanie, Who with fins all kinds as familiar be As Confeffors, and for whofe finful fake
Schoolmen, new tenements in hell muft make ;
VER. 38. Irishmen outswear), The Original fays,
improved by the Imitator to a juft ftroke of Satire. Dr. Donne's is a low allufion to a licentious quibble used, at that time, by the Enemies of the English Liturgy, who dif liking the frequent
One Sings the Fair; but songs no longer move; No rat is rhym'd to death, nor maid to love: In love's, in nature's fpite, the fiege they hold, And fcorn the flesh, the dev'l, and all but gold.
These write to Lords, fome mean reward to get, 25* As needy beggars fing at doors for meat.
Those write becaufe all write, and fo have still
Wretched indeed! but far more wretched yet
'Tis chang'd, no doubt, from what it was before,
I pass o'er all those Confeffors and Martyrs,
At fins which Prifca's Confeffor scarce hears.
invocations in the Letanie, 'called them the taking God's Name in wain, which is the Scripture periphrafis for swearing..
Whofe ftrange fins Canonifts could hardly tell
Than are new-benefic'd Minifters, he throws
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 Sclayonians fcolding, more
Than when winds in our ruin'd Abbyes roar.
VER. 44. In what Commandment's large contents they dwell.) The Original is more humourous,
In which Commandment's large receit they dwell. As if the Ten Commandments were fo wide, as to ftand ready to receive every thing within them, that either the Law of Na