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For you he walks the streets thro' rain or duft,
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover ftrand: 85
When Luther was profeft, he did defire
Each day his Beads; but having left those laws,
Hard words, or sense; 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 here
Those bought lands? not built, not burnt within
Where the old landlords troops, and almes? In halls Carthufian Fafts, and fulfome Bacchanals
Equally I hate. Mean's bleft. In rich men's homes
None ftarve, none furfeit fo. But (oh) we allow
VER. 127. Treafon, or the Law.] By the Law is here meant the Lawyers.
No Commentator can more flily pafs
O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;
Or, in quotation, fhrewd Divines leave out
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 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, tho' not whole hecatombs ;
Thus much I've faid, I truft, without offence;
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 scant 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,
To Mafs in jeft, catch'd, was fain to disburse
Two hundred markes, which is the Statutes curfe,
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. 1 die in charity with fool and knave,] We verily think he did. But of the immediate caufe 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 Dropfy in the breast, enough to have killed Hercules. The Gentlemen of the Dunciad maintain, that he
S A TIRE
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,
Wou'd go to Mafs in jeft (as ftory fays)
fell by the keen pen of our redoubtable Laureat. We ourselves fhould be inclined to this latter opinion, for the fake of ornamenting his ftory; for it would be a fine thing for his Historian 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.