105 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 Thofe 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 115 Some beasts were kill'd, though not whole hecatombs; Thefe Each day his Beads: but having left those laws, 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 heretofore 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, Thus much I've faid, I truft, without offence; 125 Let no Court Sycophant pervert my sense, Nor fly Informer watch these words to draw Equally I hate. Means bleft. In rich men's homes I bid kill fome beafts, but no hecatombs; None starve, 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 vaft reach of th' huge statutes jawes. SATIRE IV. 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, With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd, Yet went to Court!-the Devil would have it fo. 5 10 But, SATIRE WEL IV. 7ELL; 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 fhow, Yet went to Court; but as Glare which did go But, as the Fool that in reforming days Would go to Mass in jeft (as ftory fays) 15 20 25 To Mafs in jeft, catch'd, was fain to disburse Therefore I fuffer'd this; towards me did run Or Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous fhelves contain, Nay, all that lying Travellers can feign. The watch would hardly let him pass at noon, At night would fwear him dropp'd out of the Moon. 35 And the wife Justice starting from his chair The fuit, if by the fashion one might guess, 40 Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess, But mere tuff-tafety what now remain'd; So Time, that changes all things, had ordain'd! Our Stranger than feven Antiquaries ftudies, Stranger than strangers: one who, for a Dane, His cloaths were ftrange, though coarfe, and black, though bare, Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been |