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SATIRES.

SATIRE I.

AWAY! thou changeling motely humourist;
Leave me, and in this standing wooden chest,
Consorted with these few books, let me lye
In prison, and here be coffin'd when I die.
Here are God's conduits, grave divines; and here
Is Nature's secretary, the philosopher;
And wily statesmen, which teach how to tye
The sinews of a city's mystic body;

Here gathering chroniclers, and by them stand
Giddy fantastic poets of each land.

Shall I leave all this constant company,
And follow headlong wild uncertain thee?
First swear by thy best love, here in earnest,
(If thou, which lov'st all, canst love any best)
Thou wilt not leave me in the middle street,
Tho' some more spruce companion thou dost meet;
Not tho' a captain do come in thy way,

Bright parcel gilt, with forty dead men's pay;
Not tho' a brisk perfum'd pert courtier
Deign with a nod thy courtesy to answer;

Nor come a velvet justice with a long

Great train of blue coats, twelve or fourteen strong,

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SATIRES.

Wilt thou grin or fawn on him, or prepare
A speech to court his beauteous son and heir?
For better or worse take me or leave me ;
To take and leave me is adultery.
Oh, monstrous! superstitious Puritan,
Of refin'd manners, yet ceremonial man!
That when thou meet'st one with enquiring eyes
Dost search, and, like a needy broker, prize
The silk and gold he wears, and to that rate,
So high or low, dost raise thy formal hat;
That wilt consort none till thou have known
What lands he hath in hope, or of his own;
As tho' all thy companions should make thee
Jointures, and marry thy dear company;
Why shouldst thou (that dost not only approve,
But in rank itchy lust, desire, and love,
The nakedness and barrenness t' enjoy

Of thy plump muddy whore or prostitute boy)
Hate Virtue, tho' she naked be and bare?
At birth and death our bodies naked are;
And till our souls be unapparelled

Of bodies they from bliss are banished.

Man's first blest state was naked; when by sin
He lost that, he was cloath'd but in beast's skin,
And in this coarse attire, which I now wear,
With God and with the Muses I confer.
But since thou, like a contrite penitent,
Charitably warn'd of thy sins, dost repent

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These vanities and giddinesses, ló

I shut my chamber-door, and, Come, let's go.
But sooner may a cheap whore, who hath been
Worn out by as many several men in sin

As are black feathers or musk-colour'd hose,
Name her child's right true father 'mongst all those;
Sooner may one guess who shall bear away
The infantry of London hence to India;
And sooner may a gulling weather-spy,

By drawing forth heav'n's scheme, tell certainly 60
What fashion'd hats, or ruffs, or suits, next year
Our giddy-headed antic youth will wear,

Than thou, when thou depart'st from me, can show
W hither, why, when, or with whom, thou wouldst go.
But how shall I be pardon'd my offence,

That thus have sinn'd against my conscience?
Now we are in the street; he first of all,
Improvidently proud, creeps to the wall,
And so imprison'd and hemm'd in by me,
Sells for a little state his liberty;

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Yet tho' he cannot skip forth now to greet
Every fine silken painted fool we meet,

He them to him with amorous smiles allures,
And grins, smacks, shrugs, and such an itch endures
As 'prentices or school-boys, which do know

Of some gay sport abroad, yet dare not go ;
And as fiddlers stop lowest at highest sound,

So to the most brave stoops he nigh'st the ground;

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But to a grave man he doth move no more
Than the wise politic horse would heretofore;
Or thou, O Elephant or Ape! wilt do,"

When any names the King of Spain to you.

Now leaps he upright, jogs me, and cries, Do you see
Yonder well-favour'd youth? Which? Oh! 'tis he
That dances so divinely. Oh! said I,

Stand still; must you dance here for company?
He droop'd, we went, till one (which did excel
Th' Indians in drinking his tobacco well)
Met us: they talk'd; I whisper'd, Let us go;
It may
be you smell him not; truly I do.
He hears not me; but on the other side
A many-colour'd peacock having spy'd,
Leaves him and me: I for my lost sheep stay;
He follows, overtakes, goes on the way,
Saying, Him whom I last left all repute
For his device in handsoming a suit;

To judge of lace, pink, panes, print, cut, and plait,
Of all the court to have the best conceit:

Our dull comedians want him; let him go:

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But, oh! God strengthen thee; why stoop'st thou so?
Why, he hath travail'd long; no, but to me
Which understood none, he doth seem to be
Perfect French and Italian. I reply'd,
So is the pox. He answer'd not, but spy'd
More men of sort, of parts and qualities.
At last his love he in a window spies,

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