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.
Then sick with poetry, and possest with Muse
Thou wast, and mad I hoped; but men which chuse
Law practice for mere gain; bold soul repute
Worse than imbrothel'd strumpets prostitute.
Now like an owl-like watchman he must walk,
His hand still at a bill; now he must talk
Idly, like prisoners, which whole months will
That only suretyship hath brought them there;
And to every suitor lie in every thing,
Like a king's favorite-or like a king.
Like a wedge in a block, wring to the barre,
Bearing like asses, and more shameless farre
Than carted whores, lie to the grave judge; for
Bastardy abounds not in the king's titles, nor
Simony and sodomy in churchmen's lives,
As these things do in him; by these he thrives.
Shortly, as the sea, he 'll compass all the land
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover strand:
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? 60
Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold,
More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
Cursed be the wretch, so venal and so vain:
Paltry and proud, as drabs in Drury-lane.
"Tis such a bounty as was never known,
If Peter deigns to help you to your own:
What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies!
And what a solemn face, if he denies!
Grave, as when prisoners shake the head, and
'Twas only suretyship that brought them there. 70
His office keeps your parchment fates intire;
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 labors at the laws;
Takes God to witness he affects your cause;
And lies to every lord, in every thing,
Like a king's favorite—or like a king.
These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly Hall.
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:
And spying heirs melting with luxury,
Satan will not joy at their sins as he:
For (as a thrifty wench scrapes kitchen-stuffe,
And barrelling the droppings, and the snuffe
Of wasting candles, which in thirty year,
Reliquely kept, perchance buys wedding cheer)
Piecemeal he gets lands, and spends as much time
Wringing each acre, as maids pulling prime.
In parchment then, large as the fields, he draws
Assurances, big as gloss'd civil laws,
So huge, that men, in our times' forwardness,
Are fathers of the church for writing less.
These he writes not; nor for these written payes,
Therefore spares no length (as in those first dayes
When Luther was profest, he did desire
Short paternosters, saying as a fryar
And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,
Or 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,
Indenture, covenants, articles, they draw,
Large as the fields themselves, and larger far 95
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 dexterously omits, ses heires: 100
No commentator can more slily pass
O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;
Or, in quotation, shrewd divines leave out
Those words, that would against them clear the
doubt.
So Luther thought the Paternoster long,
When doom'd to say his beads and even-song;
105 So Luther thought the Paternoster long. These Satires exhibit the propensity to sneer at the Reformation, which marked the unsettled nature of Donne's opinions in early life; and the decorum of Pope's feelings was not proof against the temptation. In this unlucky spirit he transfers the scoff of the old railer against Luther to his own verses, and makes himself accountable for the slander against the piety of the most illustrious name since the days of the apostles. Donne had written a satirical Catalogue of Rare Books,' one of which is named, M. Lutherus de abbreviatione Orationis Dominicæ,' with reference to his omission of the doxology. It was written in imitation of Rabelais' Catalogue of the Library of St. Victor.' Rabelais was in the hands of all the wits of the age.
Each day his beads; but having left those laws,
Adds to Christ's prayer the power and glory clause)
But when he sells or changes land, he impaires The writings, and, unwatch'd, leaves out, ses heires,
As slily as any commenter goes by
Hard words, or sense; or, in divinity,
As controverters in vouch'd texts leave out
Shrewd words, which might against them clear
the doubt.
Where are these spread woods which cloathed heretofore
Those bought lands? not built, not burnt within door.
Where the old landlords' troops, and almes? In halls
Carthusian fasts and fulsome Bacchanals
Equally I hate. Means blest. In rich men's
I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs;
None starve, none surfeit so.
Good works as good, but out of fashion now,
Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none
Within the vast reach of the huge statutes' jaws.
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