« EelmineJätka »
No Commentator can more sily pass
So Luther thought the Pater-nofter long,
The lands are bought; but where are to be found Those ancient woods, that shaded all the ground? We see no new-built palaces aspire, No kitchens emulate the veftal fire. 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
IIG Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs ; That both extremes were banish'd from their walls, Carthufian fafts, and fulsome Bacchanals; And all mankind might that juft Mean observe, In which none e'er could surfeit, none could starve. These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow; 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, 125 Norfly Informer watch these words to draw Within the reach of Treason, or the Law.
S A TIRE IV.
Indeed is great, but yet I have been in A Purgatory, such as fear'd hell is
A recreation, and scant map of this.
My mind, neither with pride's itch, nor hath been Poyron'd with love to see or to be seen, I had no suit there, nor new suit to show, Yet went to Court; but as Glare which did go To Mass in jeft, catch’d, was fain to disburse Two hundred markes, which is the Statutes curfe,
Well; I may now receive and die. which is very indecent language on so ludicrous an occaHon.
VER. 3. I die in charity with fool and knave,] We vezily think he did. But of the immediate cause of his doparture hence there is some small difference between his Friends and Enemies. His family suggests that a general decay of nature, which had been long coming on, ended with a Droply in the breaft, enough to have killed-Hercules. The Gentlemen of the Dunciad maintain, that ke
S. A TIRE
ELL, if it be my time to quit the ftage,
Adieu to all the follies of the age !
With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd,
15 Wou'd to Mass in jest (as story says)
Notes. fell by the keen pen of our redoubtable Laureat. We ourselves Thould be inclined to this latter opinion, for the fake of ornamenting his ftory; for it would be a fine thing for his Historian to be able to say, that he died, like his immortal namesake, Alexander the Great, by a drug of lo deadly cold a nature, that, as Plutarch and other grave writers tell us, it could be contained in nothing but the Scull of an Ass. SCRIBL.
VER. 7. The Poet's hell] He has here with great prudence corrected the licentious expression of his Original,
Before he scap'd; fo it pleas'd my destiny
Therefore I suffer'd this; towards me did run
though bare, Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been Velvet, but 'twas now (fo much ground was feen) Become Tufftaffaty; and our children shall See it plain rafh a while, then nought at all.
Notes. a This is ill expressed, for it only means, he would be re stared at chan Strangers are.
Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
Such was the wight: Th’ apparel on his back