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But, for this money, was a courtier found,
Begg’d Ridway's pardon : Duncote now doth cry, “Robb’d both of money, and the law's relief,
The courtier is become the greater thief.”
TO ALL TO WHOM I WRITE.
AY none whose scatter'd names honour my
For strict degrees of rank or title look : 'Tis 'gainst the manners of an epigram ; And I a poet here, no herald am.
TO MY LORD IGNORANT.
HOU call'st me POET, as a term of shame;
But I have my revenge made, in thy name.
ON SOMETHING, THAT WALKS SOMEWHERE.
BT court I met it, in clothes brave enough,
To be a courtier; and looks grave enough,
To seem a statesman : as I near it came,
ON LIEUTENANT SHIFT.
HIFT, here in town, not meanest amongst
squires, That haunt Pickt-hatch, Marsh-Lambeth, and
White-friars, Keeps himself, with half a man, and defrays The charge of that state, with this charm, god pays. By that one spell he lives, eats, drinks, arrays Himself: his whole revenue is, god pays. The quarter-day is come; the hostess says, She must have money : he returns, god pays. The tailor brings a suit home; he it says, Looks o'er the bill, likes it : and says, god pays. He steals to ordinaries; there he plays At dice his borrow'd money : which, god pays. Then takes up fresh commodities, for days; Signs to new bonds; forfeits; and cries, god pays. That lost, he keeps his chamber, reads essays, Takes physic, tears the papers : still, god pays. Or else by water goes, and so to plays;
5 That haunt Pickt-hatch, Marsh-Lambeth, and White-friars.] The respective resorts of debauchees, thieves, and fraudulent debtors.
o God pays.] The impudent plea for charity, or rather for running in debt, advanced by disbanded soldiers, of whom there were many at this period, and more who pretended to be such. The expression occurs in the London Prodigal, in a passage much to the purpose :
Sir Arthur. I am a soldier and a gentleman.
Lace. I neither doubt your valour nor your love,
Crying, god pays."
Calls for his stool, adorns the stage : god pays.
To Doctor EMPIRIC.
HEN men a dangerous disease did 'scape,
Of old, they gave a cock to Æsculape :?
Let me give two, that doubly am got free; From my disease's danger, and from thee.
To WILLIAM CAMDEN.
AMDEN! most reverend head, to whom I owe
All that I am in arts, all that I know;8
! Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave, More high, more holy, that she more would crave.
They gave a cock to Æsculape.] The last request which Socrates made to his friends was, that they would offer this popular sacrifice for him. This has led some to imagine that the poison had begun to take effect, and that he was become light-headed. He was quite as rational as his critics; and, in perfect consistency with his creed, viewed his death as a recovery to life. 8 Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe
All that I am in arts, all that I know.] Camden was our poet's master at Westminster-school; and gratitude has led him
What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in
LL men are worms; but this no man. In
silk 'Twas brought to court first wrapt, and white
as milk; Where, afterwards, it grew a butterfly, Which was a caterpillar : so 'twill die.
to make a proper acknowledgment for his care and pains in teaching him, both by this epigram, and the dedication of Every Man in his Humour to him. WHAL.
These are not the only places in which Camden is mentioned with respect. In the King's Entertainment, Jonson terms him “the glory and light of the kingdom," and in the Masque of Queens, he introduces him with similar commendation. No man ever possessed a more warm and affectionate heart than this great poet, whose name is made synonymous with envy and ingratitude, by every desperate blockhead who reprints an old play or a poem.
in silk 'Twas brought to court, &c.] Pope had this epigram in his thoughts when he wrote his Epistle to Arbuthnot:
“ Let Sporus tremble. What, that thing of silk !
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk.” But he has confounded the metaphor, which is preserved by Jonson with equal accuracy and beauty,
ARDY, thy brain is valiant, 'tis confest,
Thou more; that with it every day dar'st jest
Thy self into fresh brawls : when, call’d upon, Scarce thy week's swearing brings thee off, of one. So in short time, thou art in arrearage grown Some hundred quarrels, yet dost thou fight none; Nor need'st thou : for those few, by oath releast, Make good what thou dar'st do in all the rest. Keep thy self there, and think thy valour right; He that dares damn himself, dares more than fight.
TO THE LEARNED Critic.
AY others fear, fly, and traduce thy name,
As guilty men do magistrates; glad I,
That wish my poems a legitimate fame, Charge them, for crown, to thy sole censure hie. And but a sprig of bays, given by thee, Shall outlive garlands, stoľn from the chaste tree.
TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER.
JO thee, my way in Epigrams seems new,
When both it is the old way, and the true.
seen 1 Shall outlive garlands stolen from the chaste tree,] i.e. the laurel ; Daphne, rather than consent to the desires of Apollo, being changed into that tree. WHAL.