YES, thank my stars! as early as I knew This town, I had the sense to hate it too; Yet here, (as ev'n in Hell,) there must be still

One giant vice, so excellently ill, That all beside one pities, not abhors; (As who knows Sappho, smiles at other whores. >

I grant that Poetry 's a crying sin; It brought (no doubt) th' excise and army in:

Catch'd like the plague, or love, the Lord knows how,

Who live like S[u]tt[o]n, or who die like
Chartres,

Out-cant old Esdras, or out-drink his heir,
Out-usure Jews, or Irishmen out-swear;
Wicked as pages, who in early years
Act sins which Prisca's confessor scarce
hears.

40

Ev'n those I pardon, for whose sinful sake Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make;

Of whose strange crimes no canonist can tell

In what commandment's large contents they dwell.

One, one man only breeds my just of fence,

Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave impudence:

Time, that at last matures a clap to pox, Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox,

For

you

he walks the streets thro' rain or dust,

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,
And lies to ev'ry Lord in ev'rything,
Like a King's favourite — or like a King.
These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly [Paul].
Not more of simony beneath black gowns,
Nor more of bastardy in heirs to crowns. 82
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;

And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,

Or when a Duke to Jansen punts at White's,

Nor the vain itch t' admire or be admired: I hoped for no commission from His Grace; I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place; Had no new verses nor new suit to show, Yet went to Court!- the Devil would have it so.

But as the fool that in reforming days
Would go to mass in jest (as story says)
Could not but think to pay his fine was odd,
Since 't was no form'd design of serving
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 false as they Who live at Court, for going once that way!

20

Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there

The Doctor's wormwood style, the hash of tongues

A Pedant makes, the storm of Gonson's lungs,

The whole artill'ry of the terms of War, And (all those plagues in one) the bawling Bar:

These I could bear; but not a rogue so civil

Whose tongue will compliment you to the Devil:

A tongue that can cheat widows, cancel

scores,

Make Scots speak treason, cozen subtlest whores,

With royal favourites in flatt'ry vie,
And Oldmixon and Burnet both outlie.

He spies me out; I whisper, 'Gracions
God!

What sin of mine could merit such a rod, That all the shot of dulness now must be From this thy blunderbuss discharged on me!'