« ZurückWeiter »
V ES; thank my stars ! as early as I knew
1 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; 5 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, But that the cure is starving, all allow. 10 Yet like the Papist's, is the Poet's state, Poor and disarm’d, and hardly worth your hate !
Here a lean Bard, whose wit could never give Himself a dinner, makes an Actor live: The Thief condemn’d, in law already dead, 15 So prompts, and faves a rogue who cannot read. . Thus as the pipes of some carv'd Organ move, The gilded puppets dance and mount above. Heav'd by the breath th' inspiring bellows blow: Th’ inspiring bellows lie and pant below. 20 One would move love by rythmes ; but witchcraft's
charms Bring not now their old fears, nor their old harms; Rams, and lings now are filly battery, Pistolets are the best artillery. And they who write to Lords, rewards to get, Are they not like fingers at doors for meat? And they who write, because all write, have still That 'scuse for writing, and for writing ill.
But he is worst, who beggarly doth chaw Others wits fruits, and in his ravenous maw Rankly digested, doth those things out-spue, As his own things; and they're his own, 'tis true, For if one eat my meat, though it be known The meat was mine, the excrement's his own.
But these do me no harm, nor they which use, :......... to out-usure Jews,
T'outdrink the sea, t'out-swear the Letanie,
out-swear the Letaine. improved by the Imitator to a just stroke of Satire. Dr. Donne's is a low allusion to a licentious quibble used, at that time, by the Enemies of the English Liturgy, who disiking the frequent
One sings the Fair; but songs no longer move; No rat is rhym'd to death, nor maid to love: In love's, in nature's spite, the siege they hold, And scorn the flesh, the dev’l, and all but gold.
These write to Lords, some mean reward to get, Ås needy beggars sing at doors for meat. 26 Those write because all write, and so have still Excuse for writing, and for writing ill.
Wretched indeed! but far more wretched yet Is he who makes his meal on others wit: 30 'Tis chang’d, no doubt, from what it was before, His rank digestion makes it wit no more: Sense, past thro' him, no longer is the same; For food digested takes another name.
I pass o'er all those Confessors and Martyrs, 35 Who live like S---tt---n, or who die like Chartres, Out-cant old Esdras, or out-drink his heir, Out-usure Jews, or Irishmen out-fwear ; Wicked as Pages, who in early years A& fins which Prisca's Confeffor scarce hears. 40 Ev'n those I pardon, for whose sinful fake Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make;
NOTE s. invocations in the Letanie, called them the taking God's Name in vain, which is the Scripture periphrasis for swearing.
Whose strange fins Canonists could hardly tell
But these punish themselves. The infolence
Words, words which would tear The tender labyrinth of a Maid's soft ear : More, more than ten Sclavonians scolding, more Than when winds in our ruin’d Abbyes roar.
NOT E s. Ver. 44. In chat Commandment's large contents they dwell.] 'The Original is more humourous,
In which Comniandment's large receit they dwell. · As if the Ten Commandments were so wide, as to stand ready to
receive every thing within them, that either the Law of Na
Of whose strange crimes no Canonist can tell
One, one man only breeds my just offence; 45 Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave Imn
pudence: Time, that at last matures a clàp to pox, Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox, And brings all natural events to pass, Hath made him an Attorney of an Afs. : 50 No young divine, new-benefic'd, can be More pert, more proud, more positive than he. What further could I wish the fop to do, But turn a wit, and scribble verses too; Pierce the soft lab'rinth of a Lady's ear 55 With rhymes of this per cent. and that per gear? Or court a Wife, spread out his wily parts, Like nets or lime-twigs, for rich Widows hearts : Call himself Barrister to ev'ry wench, And wooe in language of the Pleas and Bench? 60 Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold More rough thàn forty Germans when they scold.
NOTES. ture or the Gospel commands. A just ridicule on those practice? Commentators, as they are called, who include all moral and religious Duties within them. Whereas their true original