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But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers.”
Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right,
He died for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome,
That even to his last breath (there be that say’t,)
As he were press’d to death, he cried, “More

But, had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowings of the seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all, and gone,
Only remains this superscription.



BECAUSE you have thrown off your prelate lord,

And with stiff vows renounced his liturgy,

To seize the widow'd whore, Plurality, From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorr’d; Dare

ye for this adjure the civil sword To force our consciences that Christ set free,

And ride us with a classic hierarchy, Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford ? Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent, Would have been held in high esteem with


Must now be named and printed heretics,

By shallow Edwards, and Scotch what d'ye call; But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing, worse than those of Trent,

That so the Parliament May, with their wholesome and preventive shears, Clip your phylacteries, though baulk your ears,

And succour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large.

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THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I. What slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrha ? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness ? Oh, how oft shall be
On faith, and changed gods, complain; and seas
Rough with black winds, and storms

Unwonted, shall admire,
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who, always vacant, always amiable,

Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful! Hapless they,

[vow'd To whom thou, untried, seem'st fair! Me, in my Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern god of sea.


Brutus thus addresses Diana in the County of Leogecia. GODDESS of shades, and huntress, who at will Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the

deep; On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell What land, what seat of rest thou bidd'st me seek,

What certain seat, where I may worship thee
For aye, with temples vow'd and virgin quires.

To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana answers in a vision the

same night. Brutus, far to the west, in the ocean wide, Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies, Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old; Now void, it fits thy people: thither bend Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat; There to thy sons another Troy shall rise, And kings be born of thee, whose dreadful might Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold.


Ah, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion, but those rich domains
That the first wealthy pope received of thee!


FOUNDED in chaste and humble poverty,
'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn,
Impudent whore! where hast thou placed thy hope?
In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth ?
Another Constantine comes not in haste.


THEN pass'd he to a flowery mountain, green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously:
This was the gift, if you the truth will have,
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave.


WHOM do we count a good man? Whom but he
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate,
Who judges in great suits and controversies,
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause ?
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood,
Sees his foul inside through his whited skin.


This is true liberty, when freeborn men,
Having to advise the public, may speak free;
Which he who can, and will, deserves high praise;
Who neither can, nor will, may hold his peace:
What can be juster in a state like this?


-Laughing, to teach the truth, What hinders ? As some teachers give to boys Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace.


-Joking decides great things, Stronger and better, oft, than earnest can.


'Tis you that say it, not I. You do the deeds, And your ungodly deeds find me the words.


There can be slain
No sacrifice to God more acceptable,
Than an unjust and wicked king.

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