No Commentator can more flily pafs Or, in quotation, fhrewd Divines leave out 100 Those words, that would against them clear the doubt. When doom'd to fay his beads and Even fong; 105 No kitchens emulate the veftal fire. Where are thofe troops of Poor, that throng'd of yore The good old landlord's hospitable door? Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes 114 Some beafts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs ; Thus much I've faid, I truft, without offence; 120 125 IV. SATIRE WELL ELL; I may now receive, and die. My fin 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 Two hundred markes, which is the Statutes curfe, NOTES. VER. 1. Well, if it be etc.] Donne fays, Well; I may now receive and die. which is very indecent language on fo ludicrous an occafion. VER. 3. I die in charity with fool and knave,] We verily think he did. But of the immediate cause of his departure hence there is fome fmall difference between his Friends and Enemies. His family fuggefts that a general decay of nature, which had been long coming on, ended with a Droply in the breaft, enough to have killed Hercules. The Gentlemen of the Dunciad maintain, that ke 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 Dev'l would have it fo. Wou'd go to Mass in jeft (as story says) NOTES. 15 fell by the keen pen of our redoubtable Laureat. We ourfelves fhould be inclined to this latter opinion, for the fake of ornamenting his ftory; for it would be a fine thing for his Hiftorian to be able to say, that he died, like his immortal namefake, Alexander the Great, by a drug of fo deadly cold a nature, that, as Plutarch and other grave writers tell us, it could be contained in nothing but the Scull of an Afs. SCRIBL. VER. 7. The Poet's hell] He has here with great prudence corrected the licentious expreffion of his Original, Before he fcap'd; fo it pleas'd my destiny Therefore I fuffer'd this; towards me did run His cloaths were ftrange, tho' coarse, and black, Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been a This is ill expreffed, for it only means, he would be more flared at than Strangers are. Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd, As deep in debt, without a thought to pay, 20 25 Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous fhelves contain, Nay, all that lying Travellers can feign. The watch would hardly let him pafs at noon, At night, wou'd fwear him dropt out of the Moon. 35 40 Such was the wight: Th' apparel on his back Tho' coarfe, was rev'rend, and tho' bare, was black: The fuit, if by the fashion one might guefs, Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess, But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd; So Time, that changes all things, had ordain'd! |