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Still turning over Nature's books:
The wheel that governs all : Their works chaste, moral, and divine,
From thence the change in church and state, Where profit and delight combine;
And all the mischief bears the date
From Haberdashers' Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despair,
Upon the king to cast the war, To the celestial orbs they climb,
To make the world abhor him, And with th' harmonious spheres keep time:
Because the rebels us'd his name? Nor did their actions fall behind
Though we ourselves can do the same, Their words, but with like candour shind;
While both alike were for him.
Then the same fire we kindled here
With what was given to quench it there,
And wisely lost that nation : Yet having each the same desire,
To do as crafty beggars use, Both from the busy throng retire.
To maim themselves, thereby t'abuse
The simple man's compassion.
Have I so often past between
Windsor and Westminster, unseen, Nor fire nor Fate their bays shall blast,
And did myself divide :
To keep his excellence in awe,
For they knew none beside.
A SPEECH AGAINST PEACE
Did I for this take pains to teach
And did their lungs inspire;
To fing abroad the fire ?
To the tune of, “ I went from England.”
But will you now to peace incline,
And leave us in the lurch?
The ruin of the church.
You see the king embraces
That we shall have their places.
Was Saye's and mine together :
Once more t'invite them hither ?
Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten,
To stroke the people's ears?
To raise the price of fears.
To edify the people ;
The pulpit and the steeple.
And shall we kindle all this flame
And must we now give o'er,
If we can do no more.
Though more our money than our cause
My labour was not lost.
And these shall quit the cost.
And raise the first sedition ?
And sent them their petition. So many nights spent in the city In that invisible committee,
If men in peace can have their right,
That breaks both law and vath?
But us against them both,
And thence they will infer,
That we ourselves may err.
And cannot go asunder :
For all those pretty knacks you compose, But while the wicked starve, indeed
Alas, what are they but poems in prose ? The saints have ready at their need
And between those and ours there's no difference, God's providence, and plunder.
But that yours want the ryme, the wit, and the Princes we are if we prevail,
But for lying (the most noble part of a poet) And gallant villains if we fail :
You have it abundantly, and yourselves know it ; When to our fame 'tis told,
And though you are modest and seem to abhor it, It will not be our least of praise,
'T has done you good service, and thank Heli Since a new state we could not raise,
for it : To have destroy'd the old.
Although the old maxim remains still in force,
That a sanctify'd cause must have a sanctify'd Then let us stay and fight, and vote,
If poverty be a part of our trade,
[course, Till London is not worth a groat;
So far the whole kingdom poets you have made, Oh'tis a patient beast !
Nay even so far as undoing will do it, When we have gall’d and tir'd the mule,
You have made king Charles himself a poct : And can no longer have the rule,
But provoke not his Muse, for all the world We'll have the spoil at least.
Already you have had too much of his prose. TO THE FIVE MEMBERS
A WESTERN WONDER. FONOURABLE HOUSE OF COMMONS, Do you not know not a fortnight ago, THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE POETS. How they bragg'd of a Western Wonder ?
When a hundred and ten slew five thousand men, AFTER so many concurring petitions
With the help of lightning and thunder?
With a new Thanksgiving, for the dead who are Though set form of prayer be an abomination, To God, and his servant Chidleigh. Set forms of petitions find great approbation : Therefore, as others from th' bottom of their But now on which side was this miracle try'd, souls,
I hope we at last are even ;
[graves, So we from the depth and bottom of our bowls, For sir Ralph and his knaves are risen from their According unto the bless'd form you have taught To cudgel the clowns of Devon, Wethank you first for the ills you have brought us : And there Stamford came, for his honour was For the good we receive we thank him that gave
Of the gout three months together ; [lame And you for the confidence only to crave it. [it, But it prov'd when they fought, but a runniug Next in course, we complain of the great viola- For his heels were lighter than ever. [gout Of privilege (like the rest of our nation); [tion For now he outruns his arms and his guns, But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken, Which never had being until they were broken ;
And leaves all his money behind him ; But ours is a privilege ancient and native,
But they follow after; unless he takes water, Hangs not on an ordinance, or power legislative.
At Plymouth again they will find him.
What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath Next, that we only may lye by authority ;
Goes deep in the sequestrations ! (lost,
These wounds will not heal, with your new great But in that also you have got the priority. Next, an old custom, our fathers did name it Nor Jepson's declarations.
Or shortly you'll dig for your living.
A SECOND WESTERN WONDER.
thunder, But when we undertake deposing or killing, Which made the lye so much the louder : They're tyrants and monsters; and yet then the Now list to another, that miracle's brother, poet
Which was done with a firkin of powder.
O what a damp it struck through the camp !
It blew him to the Vies, without beard or eyes, Who make better poems by far of the two ? But at least three heads and a half.
When out came the book which the news-monger But, alas ! he had been feasted
From the preaching ladies letter, [took With a spiritual collation, Where, in the first place, stood the Conqueror's By our frugal mayor, Which made it show much the better. [face,
Who can dine on a prayer,
And sup on an exhortation.
'Twas mere impulse of spirit, Great William the Con, so fast he did run, Though he us'd the weapon carnal: That he left balf his name behind him.
“ Filly foal,” quoth he,
“ My bride thou shalt be, And now came the post, save all that was lost, And how this is lawful, learn all.
But alas, we are past deceiving
“ For if no respect of persons Might amount to a new Thanksgiving.
Be due 'mongst sons of Adam,
In a large extent, This made Mr. Case, with a pitiful face,
Thereby may be meant In the pulpit to fall a weeping, (eyes,
That a mare's as good as a madam." Though his mouth utter'd lyes, truth fell from his
Then without more ceremony, Which kept the lord-mayor from sleeping.
Not bonnet vail'd, nor kiss'd her,
But took her by force,
For better for worse,
A saint will needs be riding,
Though we dare not say
'Tis a falling away, NEWS FROM COLCHESTER:
May there be not some back-sliding? Or, A proper New Ballad of certain Carnal Pas
“No surely," quoth James Naylor,
“ 'Twas but an insurrection sages betwixt a Quaker and a Colt, at Horsly,
Of the carnal part, near Colchester, in Essex.
For a Quaker in heart
Can never lose perfection.
All in the land of Essex,
On the side of a bank,
Was play'd such a prank,
“ For (as our masters' teach us)
Though the Devil trepan
The Adamical man,
Help Woodcock, Fox, and Naylor,
Now, alas, what hope
Of converting the Pope, When a Quaker turps Italian :
But alas ! a Pagan jury
Then say what we can,
Brother Green's outward man I fear will be suspended.
And our adopted sister
But when him we enrol
For a saint, Filly Foal
Even to our whole profession
When 'tis talk'd with disdain,
Amongst the profane,
Yet when did they hear
That a damn'd cavalier
Hadst thou sweeten'd thy gums
With pottage of plums,
Then fullness of gut
Rome, that spiritual Sodom,
O Colchester, now
Who's Sodom but thou,
5 The Jesuits.
Come, I say, thou powerful god,
But what in them is want of art or voice, And thy leaden charming rod,
in thec is either modesty or choice. Dipt in the Lethéan lake,
While this great picce, restord by thee, doth O'er his wakeful temples shake,
stand Lest he should sleep, and never wake.
Free from the blemish of an artless hand,
Secure of fame, thou justly dost esteem Nature (alas !) why art thou so
Less honour to create, than to redeem. Obliged to thy greatest foe?
Nor ought a genius less than his that writ, Sleep that is thy best repast,
Attempt translation ; for transplanted wit, Yet of death it bears a taste,
All the defects of air and soil doth share,
And colder brains like colder cliniates are ;
That servile path thou nobly dost decline
Of tracing word by word, and line by line.
Those are the labour'd births of slavish brains, So shall we joy, when all whom beasts and worms Not the effect of poetry, but pains ; Have turn’d to their own substances and forms: Cheap vulgar arts, whose narrowness affords Whom earth to earth, or fire hath chang'd to No fight for thoughts, but poorly sticks at fire,
words. We shall behold more than at first entire ; A new and nobler way thou dost pursue As now we do, to see all thine thy own
To make translations and translators too. In this my Muse's resurrection,
They but preserve the ashes, thou the flame, Whose scatter'd parts from thy own race, more True to his sense, but truer to his fame. wounds
Fording his current, where thou find'st it low, Hath suffer'd, than Acteon from his hounds; Let'st in thine own to make it rise and flow; Which first their brains, and then their belly Wisely restoring whatsoever grace fed,
It lost by change of times, or tongues, or place. And from their excrements new poets bred. Nor fetter'd to his nambers and his times, But now thy Muse enraged, from her urn, Betray'st his music to unhappy rhymes. Like ghosts of murder'd bodies, does return Nor are the nerves of his compacted strength T'accuse the murderers, to right the stage, Stretch'd and dissolv'd into unsinew'd length: And undeceive the long-abused age,
Yet after all, (lest we should think it thine) Which casts thy praise on them, to whom thy | Thy spirit to his circle dost confine. wit
New names, new dressings, and the modern cast, Gives not more gold than they give dross to it: Some scenes, some persons alter'd, and outWho, not content, like felons, to purloin,
[known Add treason to it, and debase the coin.
The world, it were thy work: for we have But whither am I stray'd ? I need not raise Some thank'd and prais'd for what was less their Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise; Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built,
That master's hand which to the life can trace Nor need thy juster title the foul guilt
The airs, the lines, and features of the face,
SIR JOHN POOLEY
MR. THOMAS KILLIGREW.
Most queremoniously confessing,
That I of late have been compressing. TO SIR RICHARD FANSHAW,
Destitute of my wonted gravity,
I perpetrated arts of pravity,
In a contagious concavity.
Making efforts with all my puissance, Such is our pride, our folly, or our fate,
For some venereal rejouissance, That few but such as cannot write, translate.
I got (as once may say) a nuysance.
Kıl. Come leave this fooling, cousin Pooley,
Two kings like Saul, much taller than the rest, And in plain English tell us truly
Their equal armies draw into the field : Why under th' eyes you look so bluely? | Till one take th' other prisoner they contest;
Courage and fortune must to conduct yield.
From thence to busy Europeans sent,
Yet some that fled from Troy to Rome report,
Penthesilea Priam did oblige ;
Her Amazons, his Trojans taught this sport,
To pass the tedious hours of ten years' siege. Pool. Without more preface or formality,
There she presents herself, whilst kings and A female of malignant quality
peers Set fire on label of mortality.
Look gravely on whilst fierce Bellona fights;
Yet maiden modesty her motion steers,
Nor rudely skips o'er bishops' heads like
You have been an old fornicator,
Cyllenius from Æneas straight doth fly:
Nor willing to forsake this pleasant land,
Asham's the kind Eliza to deceive,
But more afraid to take a solemn leave;
He many ways his labouring thoughts revolves,
But fear o'ercoming shame at last resolves
(Instructed by the god of thieves ,) to steal Person of knowledge, who can mend-a Himself away, and his escape conceal. Disaster in your nether end-a
He calls his captains, bids them rig the fleet,
That at the port they privately should meet;
No art a watchful lover can surprise.
She the first motion finds; love though most Once in a pit, you did ' miscarry,
Yet always to itself seems unsecure. (sure, That danger might have made one wary That wicked fame which their first love proThis pit is deeper than the quarry.
claim’d, Pool. Give me not such disconsolation,
Foretells the end ; the queen with rage inflam'd Having now cur'd my inflammation,
Thus greets him: “Thou dissembler, would'st thou To ulcerate my reputation.
Out of my arms by stealth perfidiously ? [fly
Could not the hand I plighted, nor the love,
And in the depth of winter, in the night,
To plow the raging seas to coasts unknown, And I will rub my mater pia,
The kingdom thou pretend'st to, not thy own ! To fin? a rhyme to gonorrheia,
Were Troy restor'd thou should'st mistrust a And put it in my Litania.
wind False as thy vows, and as thy heart unkind.
Fly'st thou from me ? By these dear drops of AN OCCASIONAL IMITATION
By our espousals, by our marriage-bed,
If all my kindness aught have merited;
If ever I stood fair in thy esteem,
Cannot my prayers a free acceptance find, Drawn from the jaws of Afric's prudent Nor my tears soften an obdurate mind ? beast.
My fame of chastity, by which the skies
I reach'd before, by thee extinguish'd dies. I Hunting near Paris, he and his horse fell
OF A MODERN AUTHOR UPON THE
into a quarry.