« السابقةمتابعة »
Must mortgage her long scarf and mantua gown ;
Now scorn'd of all, forsaken and opprest,
's as lame in making a true fop,
You smile to see me, who the world perchance
This character, lest crossing of the strain
power or wealth,
She's a memento mori to the rest :
Poor creature, who, unheard-of, as a fly
A SATIRE AGAINST MANKIND.
From pedagogue and mother just set free,
And now, with careful prospect, to maintain
And, before certain instinct, will prefer
And give the world true grounds of hope and fear. da prete Reason, which fifty times for one does err.
Hold, mighty man, I cry; all this we know
From the pathetic pen of Ingelo,
This busy puzzling stirrer up of doubt,
The reverend bedlams, colleges and schools.
Borne on these wings, each heavy sot can pierce
The limits of the boundless universe. eve; Till, spent, it leaves him to eternal night.
So charming ointments make an old witch ily,
In nonsense and impossibilities:
This made a whimsical philosopher,
Before the spacious world his tub prefer;
And we have many modern coxcombs, who
Where action ceases, thought's impertinent.
Our sphere of action is life's happiness, dielli And wit was his vain frivolous pretence,
And he that thinks beyond, thinks like an ass. Of pleasing others at his own expense ;
Thus whilst against false reasoning I inveigh, 9
For wits are treated just like common whores, I own right reason, which I would obey; if: First they're enjoy'd, and then kick'd out of doors : That reason, which distinguishes by sense,
The pleasure past, a threatening doubt remains, And gives us rules of good and ill from thence;
Your reason hinders, mine helps to enjoy,
My reason is my friend, your's is a cheat: And therefore what they fear, at heart they hate. Hunger calls out, my reason bids me eat: :)
But now, methinks, some formal band and beard Perversely your's your appetite does mock:
This plain distinction, Sir, your doubt secures :
Thus I think reason righted: but for man,
I'll ne'er recant; defend him, if you can.
For all his pride and his philosophy,
'Tis evident beasts are, in their degree,
As wise at least, and better far than he.
Those creatures are the wisest, who attain,
By surest means, the ends at which they aim. And turns my tide of ink another way.
If therefore Jowler finds and kills his hare, What ferments in your degenerate mind,
Better than Meres supplies committee-chair: rage To make you rail at reason and mankind?
Though one's a statesman, th' other but a hound,
Jowler in justice will be wiser found,
You see how far man's wisdom here extends :
Look next if human nature makes amends; Whom his great Maker took such care to make,
Whose principles are most generous and just ; That from himself he did the image take,
And to whose morals you would sooner trust : And this fair frame in shining reason drest,
Be judge yourself; I'll bring it to the test, To dignify his nature above beast:
Which is the basest creature, man or beast : Reason, by whose aspiring influence,
Birds feed on birds, beasts on each other prey,
But savage man alone does man betray.
Prest by necessity, they kill for food;
Man undoes man, to do himself no good:
Search heaven and hell, find out what's acted there,
With teeth and claws by nature arm'd, they hunt
Whose envious heart, with saucy eloquence, Nature's allowance, to supply their want;
Dares chide at kings, and rail at men of sense; But man, with smiles, embraces, friendships, praise,
Who in his talking vents more peevish lies, Inhumanly his fellow's life betrays;
More bitter railings, scandals, calumnies, With voluntary pains works his distress,
Than at a gossiping are thrown about, Not through necessity, but wantonness.
When the good wives drink free, and then fall out. For hunger or for love, they bite or tear;
None of the sensual tribe, whose talents lie Whilst wretched man is still in arms for fear:
In avarice, pride, in sloth, and gluttony; For fear he arms, and is of arms afraid;
Who hunt preserment, but abhor good lives; From fear to fear successively betray'd :
Whose lust exalted to that height arrives, Base fear, the source whence his base passions came, They act adultery with their own wives; His boasted honour, and his dear-bought fame: And, ere a score of years completed be, The lust of power, to which he's such a slave,
Can from the lofty stage of honour see And for the whieh alone he dares be brave;
Half a large parish their own progeny.
Nor doating — who would be ador'd,
Fonder of serious toys, affected more,
Than the gay, glittering fool at twenty proves, Under laborious, mean hypocrisy.
With all his noise, his tawdry clothes, and loves. Look to the bottom of his vast design,
But a meek, humble man,
of modest sense, Wherein man's wisdom, power, and glory, join ; Who, preaching peace, does practise continence; The good he acts, the ill he does endure:
Whose pious life's a proof he does believe 'Tis all from fear, to make himself secure.
Mysterious truths, which no man can conceive. Merely for safety, after fame they thirst;
If upon earth there dwell such godlike men, For all men would be cowards if they durst:
I'll here recant my paradox to them, And honesty's against all common sense ;
Adore those shrines of virtue, homage pay, Men must be knaves; 'tis in their own defence,
And, with the thinking world, their laws obey : Mankind's dishonest: if you think it fair,
If such there are, yet grant me this at least, Amongst known cheats, to play upon the square,
Man differs more from man, than man from beast. You'll be undone Nor can weak truth your reputation save;
UPON NOTHING. knave.
you The knaves will all agree to call Wrong'd shall he live insulted o'er, opprest,
Nothing ! thou elder brother ev'n to shade,
That badst a being ere the world was made,
And (well fixt) art alone of ending not afraid.
Ere Time and Place were, Time and Place were not, The difference lies, as far as I can see,
When primitive Nothing Something straight begot, Not in the thing itself, but the degree ;
Then all proceeded from the great united-What. And all the subject matter of debate, Is only who's a knave of the first rate.
Something, the general attribute of all,
Sever'd from thee, its sole original,
Into thy boundless self must undistinguish'd fall.
Yet Something did thy mighty power command,
And from thy fruitful emptiness's hand
Snatch'd men, beasts, birds, fire, air, and land.
Matter, the wicked'st offspring of thy race,
By Form assisted, flew from thy embrace; (In court a just man, yet unknown to me)
And rebel Light obscur'd thy reverend dusky face. Who does his needful flattery direct, Not to oppress and ruin, but protect ;
With Form and Matter, Time and Place did join; Since flattery, which way soever laid,
Body, thy foe, with these did leagues combine,
Is still a tax on that unhappy trade:
Is there a mortal who on God relies ?
Yet this of thee the wise may freely say,
AN EPILOGUE. Thou from the virtuous Nothing tak'st away, As charms are nonsense, nonsense seems a charm, And to be part with thee the wicked wisely pray. Which hearers of all judgment does disarm;
For songs and scenes a double audience bring, Great Negative! how vainly would the wise
And doggrel takes, which smiths in satin sing. Inquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise,
Now to machines and a dull mask you run; Didst thou not stand to point their dull philosophies ! We find that wit's the monster you would shun,
And by my troth 'tis most discreetly done. Is, or is not, the two great ends of Fate,
For since with vice and folly wit is fed, And, true or false, the subject of debate,
Through mercy 'tis most of you are not dead. That perfect or destroy the vast designs of Fate;
Players turn puppets now at your desire,
In their mouth's nonsense, in their tail's a wire; When they have rack'd the politician's breast,
They fly through crowds of clouts and showers of Within thy bosom most securely rest,
A kind of losing Loadum is their game, (fire. And, when reduc'd to thee, are least unsafe and best.
Where the worst writer has the greatest fame.
To get vile plays like theirs shall be our care;
False taught at first-
They 're further off than when they first begun; While weighty Something modestly abstains
In comedy their unweigh’d action mark, From princes' coffers, and from statesmen's brains,
There's one is such a dear familiar spark, And nothing there like stately Nothing reigns. He yawns as if he were but half awake, Nothing, who dwell'st with fools in grave disguise,
And fribbling for free speaking does mistake;
False accent, and neglectful action too: For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise,
They have both so nigh good, yet neither true, Lawn sleeves, and furs, and gowns, when they like That both together, like an ape's mock face, thee look wise.
By near resembling man, do man disgrace.
Thorough-pac'd ill actors may, perhaps, be cur'd; French truth, Dutch prowess, British policy, Half players, like half wits, can't be endur'd. Hibernian learning, Scotch civility,
(thee. Yet these are they, who durst expose the age Spaniards’ dispatch, Danes' wit, are mainly seen in Of the great wonder of the English stage;
Whom Nature seem'd to form for your delight, The great man's gratitude to his best friend, (tend, And bid him speak, as she bid Shakspeare write. Kings' promises, whores' vows, towards thee they Those blades indeed are cripples in their art, Flow swiftly into thee, and in thee ever end. Mimic his foot, but not his speaking part.
Let them the Traitor or Volpone try,
Rage like Cethegus, or like Cassius die,
They ne'er had sent to Paris for such fancies, Some few, from wit, have this true maxim got, As monsters' heads and merry-Andrews' dances. * That 'tis still better to be pleas'd than not;" Wither'd, perhaps, not perish’d, we appear; And therefore never their own torment plot: But they are blighted, and ne'er came to bear. While the malicious critics still agree'
Th' old poets dress'd your mistress Wit before ; To loath each play they come and pay to see. These draw you on with an old painted whore, The first know 'tis a meaner part of sense
And sell, like bawds, patch'd plays for maids twice
Yet they may scorn our house and actors too, so'er.
They cry, Pox o' these Covent-garden men;
Damp them, not one of them but keeps out ten.
Were they once gone, we for those thundering blades Feel pain alone, and have no joy but spight. Should have an audience of substantial trades, 'Twas impotence did first this vice begin:
Who love our muzzled boys and tearing fellows,
My Lord, great Neptune, and great nephew Æolus.
Psyché, the goddess of each field and grove.
He cries, l' faith, methinks 'tis well enough; Our poet the dull herd no longer fears :
But you roar out and cry, 'Tis all damn'd
stuff! Whate'er his fate may prove, 'twill be his pride So to their house the graver fops repair; To stand or fall with beauty on his side.
While men of wit find one another here.
ROSCOMMON-A. D. 1633-84.
HORACE'S ART OF POETRY.
Some, that at first have promis’d mighty things,
Most poets fall into the grossest faults,
The meanest workman in th’ Æmilian square,
Let poets match their subject to their strength,
As well the force as ornament of verse
Words must be chosen, and be plac'd with skill:
Homer first taught the world in epic verse
Elegies were at first design'd for grief,
Rage with lambics arm'd Archilocus,
Gods, heroes, conquerors, Olympic crowis,
Why is he honour'd with a poet's name,
se xhants, impetue petrecta and wri er all interpre
words and 2014 d. gTCHES
dancters of U serva pre od boils
Atva. or at frau arcbants, care