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But having cast his cowl, and left those laws, Adds to Christ's prayer the power and glory clause.
The lands are bought; but where are to be found Those ancient woods that shaded all the ground ? We see no new-built palaces aspire,
111 No kitchens emulate the vestal fire. Where are those troops of poor, that throng'd of
The good old landlord's hospitable door?
Thus much I've said, I trust, without offence; Let no court sycophant pervert my sense; 126 Nor sly informer watch these words, to draw Within the reach of treason, or the law.
Well! I may now receive, and die. My sin
Well, if it be my time to quit the stage,
With foolish pride my heart was never fired,
13 Had no new verses. In allusion to the short-lived honors of panegyrical verse, Warburton amusingly remarks, that
court poetry, like court clothes, only comes thither in honor of the sovereign; and serves but to supply a day's conversation,'
As prone to all ill, and of good as forget-
Therefore I suffer'd this; towards me did run
cry, "Sir, by your priesthood, tell me what you are.' His cloathes 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) Become tufftaffaty; and our children shall See it plain rash awhile, then naught at all. The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all
tongues, And only knoweth what to all states belongs; Made of the accents, and best phrase of all these, He speaks one language. If strange meats dis
As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
thet vinde trovollare con farin 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;
35 And the wise justice, starting from his chair, Cry, ‘By your priesthood, tell me what you are.' Such was the wight: the apparel on his back, Though coarse, was reverend; and though bare,
was black : The suit, if by the fashion one might guess, 40 Was velvet in the youth of good queen Bess, But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd; Só time, that changes all things, had ordain'd! Our sons shall see it leisurely decay; First turn plain rash, then vanish quite away. 45 This thing has travell’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 refined.