Before he fcap'd; fo it pleas'd my destiny
(Guilty of my fin of going) to think me
As prone to all ill, and of good as forget-
full, as proud, luftfull, and as much in debt,
As vain, as witless, and as falfe, as they
Which dwell in Court, for once going that way.

Therefore I fuffer'd this; towards me did run
A thing more ftrange, than on Nile's flime the Sun
E'er bred, or all which into Noah's Ark came:
A thing which would have pos'd Adam to name:
Stranger than seven Antiquaries ftudies,
Than Africk Monfters, Guianaes rarities,
Stranger than strangers : one who, for a Dane,
In the Danes Maffacre had fure been flain,
If he had liv'd then; and without help dies,
When next the Prentices 'gainst strangers rise;
One whom the watch at noon lets fcarce go by;
One, to whom the examining Justice fure would cry,
Sir, by your Priesthood tell me what you are?

His cloaths were ftrange, tho' coarfe, and black, though bare,

Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been
Velvet, but 'twas now (fo much ground was seen】
Become Tufftaffaty; and our children shall

See it plain rash a while, then nought at all.
NOTES.

2 This is ill expreffed, for it only means, he would be more ftared at than Strangers are.

Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
Since 'twas no form'd defign of ferving God;
So was I punish'd, as if full as proud
As prone to ill, as negligent of good,

As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
As vain, as idle, and as falfe, as they
Who live at Court, for going once that way !
Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there came
A thing which Adam had been pos'd to name;
Noah had refus'd it lodging in his Ark,
Where all the Race of Reptiles might embark:
A verier monfter, than on Africk's shore
The fun e'er got, or flimy Nilus bore,

20

25

Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous fhelves contain, Nay, all that lying Travellers can feign.

The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,

At night, wou'd fwear him dropt out of the Moon.
One whom the mob, when next we find or make
A popish plot, fhall for a Jesuit take,

And the wife Justice starting from his chair
Cry, By your Priesthood tell me what you are?

31

35

40

Such was the wight: Th' apparel on his back Tho' coarse, was rev'rend, and tho' bare, was black: The fuit, if by the fashion one might guess, Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess, But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd; So Time, that changes all things, had ordain'd!

The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all

tongues,

And only knoweth what to all States belongs,
Made of th' accents, and best phrase of all these,
He speaks one language. If ftrange meats difpleafe,
Art can deceive, or hunger force my taft;
But pedants motly tongue, fouldiers bumbast,
Mountebanks drug-tongue, nor the termes of law,
Are frong enough preparatives to draw

Me to hear this, yet I must be content

With his tongue, in his tongue call'd Complement :
In which he can win widows, and pay scores,
Make men speak treason, couzen fubtleft whores,
Out-flatter favourites, or out-lie either

Jovius, or Surius, or both together.

He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God, How have I finn'd, that thy wrath's furious Rod, This fellow, chufeth me! He faith, Sir,

I love your judgment, whom do you prefer
For the best Linguift? and I feelily

Said that I thought Calepines Dictionary.

Our fons fhall fee it leifurely decay,

Firft turn plain rash, then vanish quite away.

45

This thing has travel'd, speaks each language too, And knows what's fit for every state to do; Of whose best phrafe and courtly accent join'd, He forms one tongue, exotic and refin'd.

Talkers I've learn'd to bear; Motteux I knew, 50
Henley himself I've heard, and Budgel too.

The Doctor's Wormwood ftyle, the Hash of tongues
A Pedant makes, the ftorm of Gonfon's lungs,
The whole Artill❜ry of the terms of War,

And (all thofe plagues in one) the bawling Bar: 55
These I cou'd bear; but not a rogue fo civil,
Whose tongue will compliment you to the devil.
A tongue, that can cheat widows, cancel feores,
Make Scots speak treason, cozen subtleft whores,
With royal Favourites in flatt'ry vie,

And Oldmixon and Burnet both out-lie:

60

65

He spies me out, I whisper, Gracious God! What fin of mine could merit fuch a rod? That all the shot of dulness now must be From this thy blunderbufs discharg'd on me! Permit (he cries) no ftranger to your fame To crave your fentiment, if -'s your name. What Speech efteem you moft?" The King's, faid I.” But the best words? O Sir, the Dictionary."

Nay, but of men, most sweet Sir? Beza then,

Some Jefuits, and two reverend men

Of our two academies I nam'd: here

He stopt me, and faid, Nay your Apoftles were
Good pretty Linguifts; fo Panurgus was,

Yet a poor Gentleman; all thefe may pafs

By travail. Then, as if he would have fold

His tongue, he prais'd it, and fuch wonders told,

That I was fain to fay, If you had liv'd, Sir,

Time enough to have been Interpreter

To Babels Bricklayers, fure the Tower had flood.
He adds, If of Court life you knew the good,

You would leave loneness. I faid, Not alone

My loneness is; but Spartanes fashion

NOTES.

VER. 78. Yet these were all poor Gentlemen!] Our Poet has here added to the humour of his original. Donne makes his thread-bare Traveller content himself under his