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At home in wholesome solitariness My piteous soul began the wretchedness Of suitors at court to mourn, and a trance Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did advance Itself o'er me: such men as he saw there I saw at court, and worse and more. Low fear Becomes the guilty, not the accuser : then, Shall I, none's slave, of high-born or raised men Fear frowns; and my mistress Truth, betray

thee For the huffing, bragart, puft nobility ? No, no, thou which since yesterday hast been Almost about the whole world, hast thou seen, O sun, in all thy journey, vanity, Such as swells the bladder of our court? I Think he which made your waxen* garden, and Transported it from Italy, to stand With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for Just such gay painted things, which no sap nor Tast have in them, ours are; and natural Some of the stocks are; their fruits bastard all.

"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 sweet their apparels be, as be Their fields they sold to buy them. For a king Those hose are, cry the flatterers; and bring Them next week to the theatre to sell. Wants reach all states : me seems they do as well

* A show of the Italian garden in wax-work, in the time of king James I.--Pope.

Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free;
Suits tyrants, plunderers, but suits not me. 195
Shall I, the terror of this sinful town,
Care if a liveried lord or smile or frown?
Who cannot flatter, and detest who can,
Tremble before a noble serving-man?
O, my fair mistress, Truth! shall I quit thee 200
For huffing, braggart, puff'd nobility ?
Thou, who since yesterday hast rolld o'er all
The busy, idle blockheads of the ball;
Hast thou, O sun! beheld an emptier sort,
Than such as swell this bladder of a court ? 205
Now pox on those who show a court in wax!
It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs:
Such painted puppets ! such a varnish'd race
Of hollow gewgaws, only dress and face!
Such waxen noses, stately staring things 210
No wonder some folks bow, and think them kings.

See! where the British youth, engaged 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; 215
In hues as gay, and odors as divine,
As the fair fields they sold to look so fine.
• That's velvet for a king !' the flatterer swears :
'Tis true; for ten days hence 'twill be King


206 Court in war. A famous show of the court of France in wax-work.

213 At Fig's, at White's. White's was a noted gaming-house; Fig's, a prize-fighter's academy, where the young nobility received instruction in those days : it was also customary for the nobility and gentry to visit the condemned criminals in Newgate.-Pope.

At stage, as courts; all are players. Whoe'er

looks (For themselves dare not go) o'er Cheapside books, Shall find their wardrobes’ inventory. Now The ladies come. As pirates, which do know That there came weak ships fraught with cut

chanel, The men board them; and praise, as they think,

well, Their beauties; they the men's wits; both are

bought. Why good wits ne'er wear scarlet gowns, I thought This cause ;--these men, men’s wits for speeches

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. Would not 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 hose, and call his clothes to shrift; Making them confess not only mortal Great stains and holes in them, but venial Feathers and dust, wherewith they fornicate: And then by Durer's rules survey the state Of his each limb, and with strings the odds tries Of his neck to his leg, and waste to thighs. So in immaculate clothes, and symmetry Perfect as circles, with such nicety

Our court may justly to our stage give rules, 220
That helps it both to fools-coats and to fools.
And why not players strut in courtiers' clothes ?
For these are actors too, as well as those.
Wants reach all states: they beg but better dress’d;
And all is splendid poverty at best.

Painted for sight, and essenced for the smell,
Like frigates fraught with spice and cochineal,
Sail in the ladies : how each pirate eyes
So weak a vessel, and so rich a prize!
Top-gallant he, and she in all her trim; 230
He boarding her, she striking sail to him:
• Dear countess, you have charms all hearts to

hit!' And sweet sir Fopling, you have so much wit!' Such wits and beauties are not praised for naught, For both the beauty and the wit are bought. 235 'Twould burst ev'n Heraclitus with the spleen, To see those antics, Fopling and Courtin: The presence seems, with things so richly odd, The mosque of Mahound, or some queer pagod. See them survey their limbs by Durer's rules, Of all beau-kind the best-proportion'd fools ! 241 Adjust their clothes, and to confession draw Those venial sins, an atom or a straw: But, 0! what terrors must distract the soul, Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole;


220 To our stage give rules. By the act for licensing plays. Lord Chesterfield opposed this act, observing keenly, at the end of his speech, ‘My lords, wit is the property of those who have it; and very often the only property they have. Luckily, my lords, we are otherwise provided for.'—Warton.

As a young preacher at his first time goes
To preach, he enters; and a lady, which owes
Him not so much as good-will, he arrests,
And unto her protests, protests, protests,
So much as at Rome would serve to have thrown
Ten cardinals into the inquisition ;
And whispers by Jesu so oft, that a
Pursuevant would have ravish'd him away
For saying our Lady's psalter. But 'tis fit
That they each other plague; they merit it.
But here comes Glorious that will plague them

Who in the other extreme only doth
Call a rough carelessness, good fashion :
Whose cloak his spurs tear, or whom he spits on,
He cares not, he. His ill words do no harm
To him; he rushes in, as if • Arm, arm,'
He meant to cry; and though his face be as ill
As theirs which in old hangings whip Christ, still
He strives to look worse; he keeps all in awe;
Just like a licensed fool, commands like law.

Tyred, now I leave this place, and but pleased


As men from gaols to execution go,

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