As one of Woodward's patients, fick, and fore,
I puke, I nauseate, - yet he thrusts in more :
Trims Europe's balance, tops the statesman's part,
And talks gazettes and post-boys o'er by heart.
Like a big wife at fight of loathsome meat
Ready to caft, I yawn, I figh, and sweat.
Then as a licens'd spy, whom nothing can
Silence or hurt, he libels, the great man; !
Swears ev'ry place entail'd for years to come,
In fure fucceffion to the day of doom:
He names the price for ev'ry office paid,
And fays our wars thrive ill, because delay'd:
Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the court,
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk 's ftill a port.
Not more amazement seiz'd on Circe's guests,
To see themselves fall endlong into beasts,
Than mine, to find a subject stay'd and wife
Already half turn'd traytor by furprize.
I felt th' infection flide from him to me,
As in the pox, fome give it to get free;
And quick to fwallow me, methought I saw
One of our giant ftatues ope its jaw.
In that nice moment, as another lye
Stood juft a-tilt, the minifter came by.
To him he flies, and bows, and bows again,
Then, close as umbra, joins the dirty train.
Not Fannius' felf more impudently near
When half his nose is in his prince's ear.
I quak'd at heart; and still afraid, to fee
All the court fill'd with ftranger things than he,
Ran out as faft, as one that pays his bail
And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
And fays: Sir, can you spare ine-? I faid: Willingly.
Nay, Sir, can you fpare me a crown? Thankfully I
Gave it, as ransom ; but as fidlers, ftill,
Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will
Thruft one more jigg upon you : fo did he
With his long complimental thanks vex me.
But he is gone, thanks to his needy want,
And the prerogative of my crown ; scant
His thanks were ended, when I (which did see
All the court fill'd with more strange things than he
Ran from thence with fuch, or more hafte than one
Who fears more actions, doth haft from prison.
At home in wholefome folitarinefs
My piteous foul began the wretchedness
Of fuiters at court to mourn, and a trance
Like his, who dreamt he faw bell, did advance
It felf o'er me : fuch men as he faw there
and worfe and more. Low fear
Becomes the guilty, not th' accufer: then,
Shall I, none's flave, of high born or rais'd men
Fear frowns; and my miftrefs, Truth, betray thee
For th' huffing, bragart, puft nobility?
No, no, thou which fince yesterday hast been,
Almoft about the whole world, haft thou feen,
O fun, in all thy journey, vanity,
Such as fwells the bladder of our court? I
Think he which made your waxen garden, and
Transported it from Italy, to ftand
With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for
Juft fuch gay painted things, which no fap, nor
Tafte have in them, ours are ; and natural
Some of the stocks are; their fruits baftard all.
Bear me, fome God! oh quickly bear me hence
To whoifome folitude, the nurse of sense:
Where contemplation prunes her ruffled wings,
And the free foul looks down to pity kings!
There fober thought pursu'd th' amusing theme,
Till fancy colour'd it, and form'd a dream.
A vifion hermits can to hell transport,
And forc'd ev'n me to see the damn'd at court.
Not Dante dreaming all th' infernal state,
Beheld fuch scenes of envy, fin, and hate.
Bafe fear becomes the guilty, not the free ;
Suits tyrants, plunderers, but fuits not me :
Shall I, the terror of this finful town,
Care, if a liv'ry'd lord or fmile or frown?
Who cannot flatter, and deteft who can,
Tremble before a noble ferving-man ?
fair miftrefs, Truth! shall I quit thee
For huffing, braggart, puft nobility?
Thou, who fince yesterday haft roll'd o'er all
The bufy, idle blockheads of the ball
Haft thou, oh fun! beheld an emptier fort,
Than fuch as fwell this bladder of a court?
Now pox on those who shew a court in wax!
It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs :
Such painted puppits! such a varnish'd race
Of hollow gew-gaws, only dress and face!
Such waxen noses, ftately ftaring things-
No wonder fome folks bow, and think them kings.
See! where the British youth, engag'd no more
At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a whore,
Pay their last duty to the court, and come
All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room;
'Tis ten a clock and past; all whom the mues, Baloun, or tennis, diet, or the stews
Had all the morning held, now the second
Time made ready, that day, in flocks are found
In the presence, and I ( God pardon me )
As fresh and fweet their apparels be, as be
Their fields they fold to buy them. For a king
Those hefe are, cry the flatterers: and bring
Them next week to the theatre to fell.
Wants reach all states: me feems they do as well
At stage, as courts ; all are players. Whoe'er looks
(For themselves dare not go ) o'er Cheapfide books
Shall find their wardrobes inventory. Now
The ladies come. As pirates (which do know
That there came weak ships fraught with cutchanel) The men board them; and praife ( as they think)
Their beauties; they the mens wits : both are bought.
Why good wits ne'er wear scarlet gowns, I thought
This caufe: These men, mens wits for fpeeches buy,
And women buy all red which scarlets dye.
He call'd her beauty lime-twigs, her hair net :
She fears her drugs ill lay'd, her hair loose set.
Wouldn't Heraclitus laugh to see Macrine
From hat to shoe, himself at door refine,
As if the presence were a mosque : and lift
His skirts and hofe, and call his clothes to shrift,
Making them confess not only mortal
Great ftains and holes in them, but venial
Feathers and duft, wherewith they fornicate:
And then by Durer's rules furvey the state
In hues as gay, and odours as divine,
As the fair fields they fold to look fo fine.
» That's velvet for a king! « the flatt'rer fwears;
'Tis true, for ten days hence 'twill be King Lear's.
Our court may justly to our ftage give rules,
That helps it both to fools-coats and to fools.
And why not players ftrut in courtiers cloaths?
For these are actors too, as well as thofe :
Wants reach all ftates; they beg but better dreft,
And all is fplendid poverty at best.
Painted for fight, and effenc'd for the smell,
Like frigates fraught with fpice and cochine'l,
Sail in the ladies: how each pyrate eyes
So weak a veffel, and fo rich a prize!
Top-gallant he, and she in all her trim,
He boarding her, she striking fail to him:
>> Dear countefs! you have charms all hearts to hit! <<
And » Sweet Sir Fopling! you have so much wit! a
Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for nought,
For both the beauty and the wit are bought.
'Twould burft ev'n Heraclitus with the spleen,
To fee those anticks, Fopling, and Courtin:
The prefence feems, with things fo richly odd,
The mofque of Mahound, or fome queer Pagod.
See them furvey their limbs by Durer's rules,
Of all beau-kind the beft proportion'd fools!
Adjust their cloaths, and to confeffion draw
Those venial fins, an atom, or a straw;
But oh! what terrors must distract the foul
Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole;
Or should one pound of powder lefs bespread
Thofe monkey-tails that wag behind their head.
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