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For you he walks the streets thro' rain or duft, ,
For not in Chariots Peter puts his trust;
For you he sweats and labours at the laws,
Takes God to witness he affects your cause, 75
And lies to ev'ry Lord in ev'ry thing,
Like a King's Favourite or like a King.
These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly **
Not more of Simony beneath black gowns, 80
Nor more of bastardy in heirs to Crowns.
In shillings and in pence at first they deal;
And steal so little, few perceive they steal;
Till, like the Sea, they compass all the land,
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover strand: 85
And when rank Widows purchase luscious nights,
Or when a Duke to Jansen punts at White's,
Or City-heir in mortgage melts away ;
Satan himself feels far less joy than they.
Piccemeal 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 themselves, and larger far
Than Civil Codes, with all their Glofles, are ; 95
So vast, our new Divines, we must confess,
Are Fathers of the Church for writing less.
But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
The deeds, and dextrously omits, ses heires :


When Luther was profeft, he did defire
Short Pater-nofters, saying as a Fryer
Each day his Beads; but having left those laws,
Adds to Christ's prayer, the power and glory clause)
But when he sells or changes land, h'impaires
The writings, and (unwatch'd) leaves out, ses heires,
As slily as any Commenter goes by
Hard words, or sense; 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 cloath'd here

tofore Those bought lands? not built, not burnt within

door. Where the old landlords troops, and almes? In halls Carthufian Fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals Equally I hate. Mean’s bleft. In rich men's homes I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs; None starve, none surfeit so. But (oh) we allow Good works as good, but out of fashion now, Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none draws Within the vast reach of th' huge statutes jawes,

NOTES. Ver. 127. Treason, or the Law.) By the Law is here meant the Lawyers.

No Commentator can more sily pass

O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;
Or, in quotation, shrewd Divines leave out
Those words, that would against them clear the doubt.

So Luther thought the Pater-noster long,
When doom'd to say his beads and Even song; 105
But having cast his cowle, and left those laws,
Adds to Christ'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 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

Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs ;
That both extremes were banith'd from their walls,
Carthufian fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals;
And all mankind might that just 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,

Nor sy Informer watch these words to draw
Within the reach of Treason, or the Law.

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ELL; I may now receive, and die. My fin

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 fuit there, nor new suit to show,
Yet went to Court; but as Glare which did go
To Mafs in jeft, catch’d, was fain to disburse
Two hundred markes, which is the Statutes curse,


VER. 1. Well, if it be etc.] Donne says,

Well; I may now receive and die. which is very indecent language on so ludicrous an occafon.

Ver. 3. 1 die in charity with fool and knave,] We verily think he did. But of the immediate cause of his departure 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 Dropsy in the breast, enough to have killed Hercules. The Gentlemen of the Dunciad maintain, that he



ELL, if it be my time to quit the stage,

Adieu to all the follies of the age !
I die in charity with fool and knave,
Secure of peace at least beyond the grave.
I've had my Purgatory here betimes,

And paid for all my satires, all my rhymes.
The Poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
To this were trifles, toys and empty names.

With foolish pride my heart was never fir’d,
Nor the vain itch t'admire, or be admir'd;
I hop'd for no commiffion from his Grace;
I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place;
Had no new verses, nor new fuit to show;
Yet went to Court the Dev'l would have it so.
But, as the Fool that in reforming days

!S Wou'd go to Mass in jest (as story says)

Nores. fell by the keen pen of our redoubtable Laureat. We ourselves should be inclined to this latter opinion, for the fake of ornamenting his story ; 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 so 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 bell] He has here with great pru. denee corrected the licentious expression of his Original.

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