The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all tongues, And only knoweth what to all States belongs, Me to hear this, yet I must be content With his tongue, in his tongue call'd Complement: Jovius, or Surius, or both together. He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God, How have I finn'd, that thy wrath's furious Rod, This fellow, chufeth me! He faith, Sir, I love your judgment, whom do you prefer Said that I thought Calepines Dictionary. Our fons fhall fee it leisurely decay, First turn plain rafh, then vanish quite away. 45 50 This thing has travel'd, speaks each language too, And knows what's fit for every state to do; Of whose best phrase and courtly accent join'd, He forms one tongue, exotic and refin’d. Talkers I've learn'd to bear; Motteux I knew, Henley himself I've heard, and Budgel too. The Doctor's Wormwood ftyle, the Hash of tongues A Pedant makes, the storm of Gonfon's lungs, The whole Artill'ry of the terms of War, And (all thofe plagues in one) the bawling Bar: These I cou'd bear; but not a rogue fo civil, Whose tongue will compliment you to the devil. A tongue, that can cheat widows, cancel fcores, Make Scots speak treafon, cozen fubtleft whores, With royal Favourites in flatt'ry vie, And Oldmixon and Burnet both out-lie. He spies me out, I whisper, Gracious God! What fin of mine could merit fuch a rod? 55 60 65 That all the shot of dulness now must be Nay, but of men, moft sweet Sir? Beza then, Some Jefuits, and two reverend men Of our two academies I nam'd: here He ftopt me, and faid, Nay your Apostles were Yet a poor Gentleman; all these may pafs By travail. Then, as if he would have fold His tongue, he prais'd it, and fuch wonders told, That I was fain to say, If you had liv'd, Sir, Time enough to have been Interpreter To Babels Bricklayers, fure the Tower had flood. My loneness is; but Spartanes fashion NOTES. VER. 78. Yet these were all poor Gentlemen!] Our Poet has here added to the humour of his original. Donne makes his thread-bare Traveller content himself under his You mifs my aim; I mean the most acute Why yes, 'tis granted, thefe indeed may pafs: He came by fure tranfition to his own: Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself so able, 70 75 80 85 Obliging Sir! for Courts you fure were made: Why then for ever bury'd in the shade? Spirits like you, fhould fee and fhould be feen, The King would smile on you--at least the Queen. Ah gentle Sir! you Courtiers fo cajol us But Tully has it, Nunquam minus folus: And as for Courts, forgive me, if I fay No leffons now are taught the Spartan way: NOTES. 99 poverty with the reflection that Panurge himself, the great Traveller and Linguist in Rabelais, went a begging. * P To teach by painting drunkards doth not last He like to a high-ftretcht Lute-string squeaks, O Sir, 'Tis sweet to talk of Kings. At Westminster, Said I, the man that keeps the Abby tombs, And for his price, doth with whoever comes Of all our Harrys, and our Edwards talk, From King to King, and all their kin can walk : Your ears fhall hear nought but Kings; your eyes meet Kings only: The way to it is Kings-street. He fmack'd, and cry'd, He's base, mechanique, course, So are all your Englishmen in their discourse. - Certes they are neatly cloath'd. I of this mind am, NOTES. VER. 104. He ev'ry day from King to King can walk,} There is fomething humourous enough in the words of the Original. The way to it is Kings-freet. But the Imi |