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For you he sweats and labours at the laws,
Takes God to witness he affects your cause,
And lies to every Lord in every thing,
Like a King's Favourite or like a King.
These are the talents that adorn them all,
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly **
Not more of Simony beneath black
Not more of baftardy in heirs to Crowns.
In fhillings and in pence at first they deal;
And steal fo little, few perceive they steal;
Till, like the Sea, they compafs all the land,
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover ftrand:
And when rank Widows purchase luscious nights,
Or when a Duke to Janffen punts at White's,
Or City Heir in mortgage melts away;
Satan himself feels far lefs joy than they.






And to every fuitor lye in every thing,
Like a King's Favourite-or like a King.
Like a wedge in a block, wring to the barre,
Bearing like affes, and more shameless farre
Than carted whores, lye to the grave Judge; for
Baftardy abounds not in King's titles, nor
Simony and Sodomy in Churchmen's lives,
As these things do in him; by these he thrives.
Shortly (as th' fea) 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 fins as he;

Piecemeal they win this acre first, then that,
Glean on, and gather up the whole estate.
"Then ftrongly fencing ill-got wealth by law,
Indentures, Covenants, Articles they draw,
Large as the fields themselves, and larger far
Than Civil Codes, with all their Gloffes, are;
So vaft, our new Divines, we must confefs,
Are Fathers of the Church for writing lefs.
But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
The deeds, and dextroufly omits, fes heires:
No Commentator can more flily pafs
Over a learn'd, unintelligible place:
Or, in quotation, fhrewd Divines leave out
Those words that would against them clear the doubt.


For (as a thrifty wench fcrapes kitchen-stuffe,
And barrelling the dropings and the fnuffe
Of wafting 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
Affurances, big as glofs'd civil laws,

So huge that men (in our times forwardness)
Are Fathers of the Church for writing lefs
These he writes not; nor for these written payes,
Therefore fpares no length (as in those first dayes
When Luther was profest, he did desire
Short Pater-nofters, faying as a Fryer.



So Luther thought the Pater-nofter long, When doom'd to fay his beads and Even-fong; But having caft 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 fee no new-built palaces afpire,

No kitchens emulate the vestal fire.

Where are those troops of Poor, that throng'd of yore The good old landlord's hofpitable door?


Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes
Some beasts were kill'd, though not whole hecatombs;
That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
Carthufian fafts, and fulsome Bacchanals;
And all mankind might that just Mean observe,
In which none e'er could furfeit, none could starve.


Each day his Beads: but having left those laws,
Adds to Chrift's prayer, the power and glory clause)
But when he fells or changes land, h' impaires
The writings, and (unwatch'd) leaves out, fes heires,
As flily as any Commentator goes by

Hard words, or fenfe; 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 cloath'd hereto-

Those bought lands? not built, nor burnt within door, Where the old landlords troops and almes? In halls Carthufian Fafts, and fulfome Bachanals

These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow,
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 faid, I trust, without offence; 125
Let no Court Sycophant pervert my sense,
Nor fly Informer watch these words to draw
Within the reach of Treafon, or the Law.

Equally I hate. Means bleft. In rich men's homes I bid kill fome beafts, but no hecatombs;

None ftarve, none furfeit fo. 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 jawes.




WELL, if it be my time to quit the stage,
Adieu to all the follies of the age!
I die in charity with fool and knave,
Secure of peace at least beyond the grave.
I've had my Purgatory here betimes,
And paid for all my fatires, all my rhymes.
The Poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
To this were trifles, toys, and empty names.

With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd,
Nor the vain itch t' admire, or be admir'd;
I hop'd for no commiffion from his Grace;
I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place;
Had no new verses, nor new fuit to fhow;
Yet went to Court!-the Devil would have it fo.







ELL; I may now receive, and die. My fin Indeed is great; but yet I have been in A Purgatory, fuch as fear'd Hell is

A recreation, and fcant map of this.

My mind, neither with pride's itch, nor hath been Poyfon'd with love to fee or to be seen,

I had no fuit there, nor new fuit to show,

Yet went to Court; but as Glare which did go

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