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Those write because all write, aud so have still
I pass o'er all those confessors and martyrs,
One, one man only breeds my just offence; Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave impudence:
And they who write to lords, rewards to get,
But he is worst, who beggarly doth chaw
But these do me no harm, nor they which use, • ••••••• to out-usure Jews.
To out-drink the sea, t'out-swear the letanie,
Time, that at last matures a clap to pox.
Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox.
And brings all natural events to pass.
Hath made him an attorney of an ass.
No young divine, new-benefic'd, can be
More pert, more prond, more positive than he.
What further could I wish the fop to do,
But turn a wit, and scribble verses too t
Pierce the soft labyrinth of a lady's ear
With rhymes of this per cent, and that per year?
Or court a wife, spread out his wily parts.
Like nets or lime-twigs, for rich widows' hearts;
Call himself barrister to every wench,
And woo in language of the Pleas and Bench?
Language, which Boreas might to Austcr hold
More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
Curs'd be the wretch, so venal and so vain:
Whose strange sins canonists could hardly tell
But these punish themselves. The insolence
• • * * * Words, words which would tear The tender labyrinth of a maid's soft ear: More, more than ten Sc lavonians scolding, more Than when winds in our ruin'd abbeys roar. Then sick with poetry, and possest with muse Thou wast, and mad I hop'd; but men which chase What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies!
Ami what a solemn face, if he denies!
Grave, as when prisoners shake the head and swear
Twas only suretyship that brought them there.
His office keeps your parchment fates entire,
He starves with cold to save them from the fire;
For you he walks the streets through 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 every lord in every thing,
Like a king's favourite—or like a king.
These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly * *
Not more of simony beneath black gowns,
Not more of bastardy in heirs to crowns.
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 I
Law practice for mere gain: bold soul repute
And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,
Of when a duke to Jansen punts at White's,
Or city heir in mortgage melts away,
Satan himself feels far less joy than they.
Piecemeal they win this acre first, then that,
Glean on, and gather up the whole estate;
Then strongly fencing ill-got wealth by law,
Indentures, covenants, articles they draw
Large as the fields themselves, and larger far
Than civil codes, with all their glosses, are;
So vast, our new divines, we must confess,
Are fathers of the church for writing less.
But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
The deeds, and dext'rously omits sea heires:
No commentator can more slily pass
Over a learn'd unintelligible place:
Or, in qnotation, shrewd divines leave out
Those words that would against them clear the doubt.
So Luther thought the pater-noster long, When doom'd to say his beads and even-song;
For (as a thrifty wench scrapes kitchen-stuffe,
Could not but think, to pay his fme was odd.
Since 'twas 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, "1
As vain, as idle, and as false, as they >
Who live at court, for going once that way! 3
Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there came
A thing which Adam had been pos'd to name;
Noah had refus'd it lodging in his ark,
Where all the race of reptiles might embark:
A verier monster, than on Afric's shore
The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore,
Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous shelves contain,
Nay, all that lying travellers can feign.
The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,
At night would swear him dropp'd out of the moon.
One, whom the mob, when next we find or make
A popish plot, shall for a Jesuit take,
As vain, as witless, and as false, as they
Therefore I suffer'd this; towards me did run
His clothes were strange, though coarse, and black, though bare, Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been Velvet, but'twas now, (so much ground was seen)