Feathers and duft, wherewith they fornicate:
And then by Durer's rules furvey the state
Of his each limb, and with ftrings the odds tries
Of his neck to his leg, and wafte to thighs.
So in immaculate clothes, and Symmetry
Perfect as Circles, with fuch nicety
As a young Preacher at his first time goes
To preach, he enters, and a lady which owes
Him not fo much as good will, he arrefts,
And unto her protefts, protefts, protests,
So much as at Rome would ferve to have thrown
Ten Cardinals into the Inquifition;
And whispers by Jesu so oft, that a
Pursuevant would have ravish'd him away
For faying our Lady's Pfalter. But 'tis fit
That they each other plague, they merit it.
But here comes Glorious that will plague them both, Who in the other extreme only doth
Call a rough carelesness, good fashion:
Whose cloak his fpurs tear, or whom he spits on,
He cares not, he. His ill words do no harm
To him; he rushes in, as if Arm, arm,
He meant to cry; and though his face be as ill
As theirs which in old hangings whip Chrift, ftill
Adjust their cloaths, and to confeffion draw
Thofe venial fins, an atom, or a straw;
But oh! what terrors muft diftra&t the foul
Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole;
Or fhould one pound of powder lefs bespread
Thofe monkey tails that wag behind their head.
Thus finish'd, and corrected to a hair,
They march, to prate their hour before the Fair.
So first to preach a white-glov`d Chaplain goes, 250
With band of Lily, and with cheek of Rofe,
Sweeter than Sharon, in immac'late trim,
Neatness itself impertinent in him.
Let but the Lady's fmile, and they are bleft:
Prodigious! how the things proteft, proteft:
Peace, fools, or Gonfon will for Papifts seize you,
If once he catch you at your Jesu! Fefu!
Nature made ev'ry Fop to plague his brother,
Juft as one Beauty mortifies another.
But here's the Captain that will plague them both,
Who'e air cries Arm! whofe very look's an oath :
'The Captain's honeft, Sirs, and that's enough,
Tho' his foul's bullet, and his body buff.
He fpits fore-right; his haughty cheft before,
Like batt'ring rams, beats open ev'ry door:
And with a face as red, and as awry,
As Herod's hang-dogs in old Tapestry,
Scarecrow to boys, the breeding woman's curfe,
Has yet a ftrange ambition to look worse;
He strives to look worfe; he keeps all in awe;
Jefts like a licens'd fool, commands like law.
Tir'd, now I leave this place, and but pleas'd fo
As men from gaels to execution go,
Go, through the great chamber (why is it hung
With the feven deadly fins?) being among
Those Afkaparts, men big enough to throw
Charing-Cross for a bar, men that do know
No token of worth, but Queens man, and fine
Living; barrels of beef, flaggons of wine.
I shook like a spied Spie-Preachers which are
Seats of Wit and Arts, you can, then dare,
Drown the fins of this place, but as for me
Which am but a fcant brook, enough shall be
To wash the stains away: Although I yet
(With Maccabees modefty) the known merit
Of my work leffen, yet some wife men fhall,
I hope, esteem my Writs Canonical.
A Giant famous in Romances.
Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe,
Jefts like a licens'd fool, commands like law.
Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it fo
As men from Jayls to execution go;
For hung with deadly fins I fee the wall,
And lin'd with Giants deadlier than 'em all:
Each man an Afkapart, of ftrength to tofs
For quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing-crofs.
Scar'd at the grizly forms, I fweat, I fly,
And shake all o'er like a discover'd spy.
Courts are too much for wits fo weak as mine:
Charge them with Heav'n's Artill'ry, bold Divine!
From fuch alone the Great rebukes endure,
Whofe Satire's facred, and whose rage fecure:
"Tis mine to wash a few light stains, but theirs
To deluge fin, and drown a Court in tears.
Howe'er what's now Apocrypha, my Wit,
In time to come, may pass for holy writ.
VER. 274. For bung with deadly fins] The Room hung with old Tapestry, reprefenting the feven deadly fins.
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