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No young divine, new benefic'd, can be
More pert, more proud, more positive than he.
What further could I wish the fop to do,
But turn a wit, and scribble verses too;
Pierce the soft lab'rinth 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 ev'ry wench,
And wooe in language of the Pleas and Bench ?

бо Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold, More rough than forty Germans when they scold.

Curs'd 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 pris'ners shake the head and swear 'Twas only suretyship that brought them there. 70 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, 75 Takes God to witness he affects your cause, And lies to ev'ry lord, in ev'ry thing, Like a king's favourite -- 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 church-men's lives,
As these things do in him; by these he thrives.
Shortly (as th' sea) he'll 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 chear)
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 pater-nosters, saying as a fryar



These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly **

Not more of simony beneath black gowns,
Nor 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, 85
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover strand :
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, cov'nants, 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 : 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 pater-noster long, 105 When doom'd to say his beads and even-song ; AA 2



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, h' 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 [doubt.
Shrewd words, which might against them clear the
Where are these spread woods which cloath'd

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 homes
I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs ;
None starve, none surfeit so. But (oh) we allow
Good works as good, but out of fashion now,
Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none draws
Within the vast reach of th' huge statutes jaws.

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? 110
We see no new-built palaces aspire,
No kitchens emulate the vestal fire.
Where are those troops of poor, that throng'd of

yore The good old landlord's hospitable door? Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes 115 Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs ; That both extremes were banish'd from their walls, Carthusian fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals; And all mankind might that just mean observe, In which none e'er could surfeit, none could starve. These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow, 12) But oh! these works are not in fashion now: Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare, Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.

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.

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