And quick to swallow me, methought I saw One of our Giant Statutes ope its jaw.
In that nice moment, as another Lye Stood just a-tilt, the minister came by. To him he fiies, and bows, and bows again, Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train, Not Fannius' self more impudently near, When half his nose is in his Prince's ear.
Becoming Traytor, and methought I saw One of our Giant Statutes ope his jaw, To suck me in for hearing him : I found That .as burnt venemous Leachers do grow found By giving others their fores, I might grow Guilty, and he free : Therefore I did show All signs of loathing; but since I am in, I must pay mine, and my forefathers sin To the last farthing. Therefore to my power Toughly and stubbornly 1 bear; but th’hower Of mercy now was come : he tries to bring Me to pay a fine to 'scape a torturing, And says, Sir, can you spare me--? I said, Willingly; Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I Gave it, as ransom ; but as fidlers, still, Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will Thrust one more jigg upon you : so did he With his long complimental thanks vex me. But he is gone, thanks to his needy want, And the Prerogative of my Crown; scant VOL. III.
т
1 quak'd at heart ; and still afraid, to see All the Court filld with stranger things than he, Ran out as fast, as one that pays his bail, And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
Bear me, some God! oh quickly bear me hence To wholesome Solitude, the nurse of sense : Where Contemplation prunes her ruffed wings, And the free foul looks down to pity Kings! There fober thought pursu'd th' amusing theme, Till Fancy colour'd it, and form’d a Dream, A Vision hermits can to Hell transport, And forc'd even me to see the damn'd at Court. Not Dante dreaming all th’infernal state, Belield such scenes of envy, sin, and hate. Base Fear becomes the guilty, not the free; Suits Tyrants, Plunderers, but suits not me :
His thanks were ended, when I (which did see All the Court fill’d with more strange things than he) Ran from thence with such, or more haft than one Who fears more actions, doth haft from prison.
At home in wholesome folitariness My piteous foul began the wretchedness Of suitors at court to mourn, and a trance Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did advance Itself oer me : such men as he saw there I saw at court, and worse and more. Low fear Becomes the guilty, not th’accuser : Then, Shall I, none's llave, of high-born or rais'd men
Shall I, the Terror of this sinful town, Care, if : iv'ry'd Lord or smile or frown? Who cannot flatter, and detest who can, Tremble lttore a noble Seiving-man? O my iair mitress, Trutii! shall I quit thee For hu fog, braggaii, putu Nobility ? Thou, who fnce jeiturday haft rollid o'er all The Lufy, dle tl ckheads of the Lall, Hait ho'i, on Sun! beheld an emptier fort, Than such as swell this badder of a court ? Now pox on those who thew a Court in wax! It ought to bring all Courtiers on their backs : Such painted puppets! such a yarnish'd race Of ho'low gew-gaws, only dreís and face ! Suc', waxen noses, stately fiaring things~ No wonder fome folks low, and think them Kings.
Far frowns; and my mistress Truth, betray thee Fui th' huffing, braggart, puft nobility ? No, no, thou which since yesterday hast been, Almost about the whole world, halt thou seen, O sun, in all thy journey, vanity, Such as swells the bladder of our court ? I Think he which made your Waxen garden, and Transported it from Italy, to stand With us at London, fiorits our Courtiers; for Just such gay painted things, which no sap, nor Taste have in them, 'ours are; and natural Some of the stocks are ; their fruits bastard all.
See! where the British youth, engag'd no more, At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a whore, Pay their last duty to the Court, and come All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room ; In hues as gay, and odours as divine, As the fair fields they fold to look so fine. “ That’s Velvet for a King !” the flatt'rer (wears ; 'Tis true; for ten days hence 'twill be King Lear's. Our Court may justly to our stage give rules, That helps it both to fools-coats and to fools. And why not players strut in courtiers cloaths ? For these are actors too, as well as those : Wants reach all states; they beg but better drest, And all is splendid poverty at best.
Painted for sight, and essenc'd for the smell, Like frigates fraught with spice and cochine'l,
'Tis ten a clock and past; all whom the mues, Baloun, or tennis, diet, or the stews Had all the morning held, now the second Time made ready, that day, in flocks are found In the Presence, and I (God pardon me) As fresh and sweet their apparels be, as be Their fields they sold to buy them. For a King Those hose are, cry the latterers; and bring Them next week to the theatre to fell. Wants reach all states : me seems they do as well At stage, as courts; all are players. Whoe'er looks (For themselves dare not go) o'er Cheapfide books,
Sail in the Ladies : how each pirate eyes So weak a vessel, and so rich a prize! Top-gallant he, and she in all her trim, He boarding her, the striking fail to him : « Dear Countess ! you have charms all hearts to hit !”
! And “ Sweet Sir Fopling! you have so much wit !" Such wits and beauties are not prais’d for nought, For both the beauty and the wit are bought. "Twou'd burst even Heraclitus with the spleen, To see those antics, Fopling and Courtin : The Presence seems, with things fo. richly odd, The mosque of Mahound, or some queer Pa-god.. See them survey their limbs by Durer's rules, Of all beau-kind the best proportion’d fools!
![[ocr errors]](https://books.google.ee/books/content?id=N-QNAAAAQAAJ&hl=et&output=text&pg=PA217&img=1&zoom=3&q=callid&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U2nvnIl9OXBoH3udoR_y_EclAgXIw&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=0,632,8,26)
Shall find their wardrobes inventory. Now The Ladies come. As pirates (which do know That there came weak ships fraught with Cutchanel) The men board them; and praise (as they think) well, Their beauties; they the mens wits; both are bought. Why good wits ne’er wear scarlet gowns, I thought This cause, these men, mens wits for speeches buy, And women buy all red which scarlets dye. He callid her beauty line-twigs, her hair net; She fears her drugs ill lay'd, her hair loose set. Wouldn't Heraclitus laugh to see Macrine From hat to shoe, himself at door refine, As if the Presence were a Mofque: and lift His skirts and huse, and call his clothes to hrift.
« EelmineJätka » |