Wicked as pages, who in early years

A&t fins which Prifca's Confeffor fcarce hears. 49
Ev'n thofe I paruon, for whose finful fake
Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make;
Of whose strange crimes no canonist can tell
In what commandment's large contents they dwell.
One, one man only breeds my just offence; 45
Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave im-
pudence :

Time, that at last matures a clap to pox,
Whofe gentle progrefs makes a calf an ox,
And brings all natural events to país,
Hath made him an attorney of an afs.
No young divine, new-benefic'd, can be
More pert, more proud, more pofitive than he.
What further could I wish the fop to do
But turn a wit, and fcribble verfes too?

50

As confeffors, and for whofe finful fake
Schoolmen new tenements in hell muft make;
Whofe ftrange fins canonifts could hardly tell
In which commandment's large receit they dwell.
But thefe punish themfelves. The infolence
Of Cofcus, only, breeds my juft offence,
Whom time (which rots all, and makes botches

pox,

And plodding on, muft make a calf an ox)
Hath made a lawyer; which (alas) of late;
But fcarce a poet: jollier of this ftate,
Than are new-benefic'd minifters, he throws,
Like nets or lime-twigs, wherefoc'er he goes
His title of barrister on ev'ry wench,
And wooes in language of the pleas and benchr.

M 5

Pierce

55

Pierce the foft lib'rinth of a lady's ear
With rhymes of this per cent, and that per year?
Or court a wife, spread out his wily parts,
Like nets or lime-twigs, for rich widows hearts;
Call himself barrister to ev'ry wench,

And woo in language of the pleas and bench? 60
Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold
More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
Curs'd be the wretch, so venal and so vain:
Paltry and proud, as drabs, in Drury-lane.
'Tis fuch a bounty as was never known,
If PETER deigns to help you to your own:
What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies!
And what a folemn face, if he denies!

65

Grave, as when pris'ners shake the head, and swear
'Twas only furetiship that brought 'em there. 70
His office keeps your parchment fates entire,
He ftarves with cold to fave them from the fire;

Words, words which would tear The tender labyrinth of a maid's foft ear: More, more than ten Sclavonians fcolding, more Than when winds in our ruin'd abbeys rore. Then fick with poetry, and poffefs'd with muse Thou waft, and mad I hop'd; but men which chufe Law-practice for mere gain; bold foul repute Worfe than imbrothel'd itrumpets prostitute. Now like an owl-like watchman he must walk, His hand ftill at a bill; now he must talk Idly, like prisoners, which whole months will swear, That only furetyfhip hath brought them there, And to every fuitor lie in every thing,

Like a king's favourite----or like a king.

For

**

75

80

For you he walks the streets thro' rain or dust,
For not in chariots Peter puts his truft;
For you he fweats and labours at the laws,
Takes God to witness he affects your cause,
And lies to ev'ry lord in ev'ry thing,
Like a king's fav'rite----or like a king.
Thefe are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters even to godly
Not more of Simony beneath black gowns,
Not more of bastardy in heirs to crowns.
In fhillings and in pence at firft they deal;
And steal fo little, few perceive they fteal;
Till, like the fea, they compass all the land, 85
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Daver strand:
And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,
́Or when a Duke to Jansen punts at White's,

Like a wedge in a block, wring to the barre,
Bearing like affes, and more shameless farre
Than carted whores, lie to the grave judge; for
Bastardy abounds not in kings titles, nor
Simony and Sodomy in churchmen's lives,
As these things do in him; by these he thrives.
Shortly (as th' fea) he'll compafs all the land,
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover ftrand.
And spying heirs melting with luxury,
Satan will not joy at their fins as he:

For (as a thrifty wench fcrapes kitchen-stuff,
And barrelling the droppings, and the snuff
Of wafting candles, which in thirty year,
Reliquely kept, perchance buys wedding-chear)
Piecemeal he gets lands, and fpends as much time
Wringing each arce, as maids pulling prime.

90

Or city-heir in mortgage melts away;
Satan himself feels far lefs joy than they.
Piecemeal they win this acre first, then that,
Glean on, and gather up the whole estate.
Then strongly fencing ill-got wealth by law,
Indentures, cov'nants, articles they draw,
Large as the fields themfelves, and larger far 95
Than civil codes, with all their gloffes, are;
So vaft, our new Divines, we must confefs,
Are Fathers of the Church for writing lefs.
But let them write for

you, each rogue impairs The deeds, and dextroufly omits, fes heires; 100 No commentator can more flily pafs

O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;

Or, in quotation, fhrewd divines leave out Those words, that would against them clear the doubt.

In parchment then, large as the fields, he draws
Affurances, big as glofs'd civil laws,

So huge that men (in our times forwardness)
Are fathers of the church for writing lefs.
These he writes not; nor for thefe written payes,
Therefore fpares no length (as in those first dayes
When Luther was profeft, he did defire
Short Pater-nofters, faying as a fryer

Each day his beads; but having left those laws, Adds to Chrift's prayer, the power and glory claufe)

But when he fells or changes land, h' impairs
The writings, and (unwatch'd) leaves out, fes

beires,

105

So Luther thought the Pater-nofter long, When doom'd to fay his beads and Even-fong; But having caft his cowl, and left those laws, Adds to Chrift's pray'r, the pow'r and glory clause. The lands are bought; but where are to be found Those ancient woods, that shaded all the ground? We fee no new-built palaces aspire,

IJI

No kitchens emulate the Veftal fire.
Where are those troops of poor, that throng'd of

yore

The good old landlord's hofpitable door?

Well, I could wifli, that ftill in lordly domes 115
Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs;
That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
Carthufian fafts, and fulfome Bacchanals;

And all mankind might that just mean observe,
In which none e'er could furfeit, none could starve.
These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow, 121
But oh! these works are not in fashion now:

As flily as any commenter goes by
Hard words, or fenfe; or, in divinity

As controverters in vouch'd texts, leave out Shrewd words, which might against them clear the doubt.

Where are these spread woods which cloth'd heretofore

Those bought lands? not built, not burnt within door.

Where the old landlords troops, and alms? In halls
Carthufian fafts, and fulfome Bacchanals
Equally I hate. Mean's bleft. In rich mens homes
I bid kill fome beafts, but no hecatombs;