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Whose place is quarter'd out, three parts in four;
As one of Woodward's patients, sick and sore, I puke, I nauseate ;—yet he thrusts in more; Trims Europe's balance, tops the statesman's
part, And talks gazettes and post-boys o'er by heart. 155 Like a big wife at sight of loathsome meat Ready to cast, I yawn, I sigh, and sweat. Then as a licensed spy, whom nothing can Silence or hurt, he libels the great man; Swears every place entail'd for years to come, 160 In sure succession to the day of doom : He names the price for every
office paid, And says our wars thrive ill, because delay'd : Nay, hints ’tis by connivance of the court, That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a port. 165 Not more amazement seized on Circe's guests, To see themselves fall endlong into beasts,
Becoming traytor, and methought I saw
fully I Gave it as ransom; but as fiddlers, still, Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will Thrust one more jig upon you; so did he With his long complimented thanks vex me. But he is gone, thanks to his needy want, And the prerogative of my crown: scant His thanks were ended, when I (which did see All the court fill'd with more strange things than
he) Ran from thence with such, or more haste than
Who fears more actions, doth haste from prison.
Than mine, to find a subject staid and wise
In that nice moment, as another lie
his bail, And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
Bear me, some god ! O, quickly bear me hence To wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense ; 185 Where contemplation prunes her ruffled wings, And the free soul looks down to pity kings! There sober thought pursued the amusing theme, Till fancy color'd it, and form'd a dream. A vision hermits can to hell transport,
190 And forced ev'n me to see the damn'd at court. Not Dante, dreaming all the infernal state, Beheld such scenes of envy, sin, and hate.
192 Not Dante dreaming. The boldness of the early Italian and French writers is sometimes surprising : it is not less surprising that this boldness should have escaped with impunity under the powerful and violent sovereigns of the time. Dante openly calls the popedom the great harlot of the Apocalypse, (Inferno, canto 19) and declares Hugo Capet the son of a butcher, and the root of an evil plant, from which no good fruit could come.' Rabelais holds up to the wildest ridicule Francis I., Henry II., and Charles V.
At home in wholesome solitariness
and a trance
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 1.-Pope.
Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free;
See! where the British youth, engaged no more
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.