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النشر الإلكتروني

Call a roaph carelessness good fashion ;

O Age of rusty Iron! some better wit
Whole desk his spurs tear, or whom he spits on, Call it some worse name, if ought equal it.
He cares az, he. His ill words do no harm Th'Iron Age was when justice was sold; now
To tis; be rathes in, as if Arm, Arm,

Injustice is fold dearer far. Allow
He mers to cry; and though his face be as ill All claim'd fees and duties, ga nefters, anon
As tess which in old hangings whip Chrift, still | The money which you sweat and swear for's
Herve to look worfe; he keeps all in awe,

Jets Ike a licens'd fool, commands like law. Into other hands. So controverted lands
Tir'd, Dey; I leave this place, and but pleas'd fo 'Scape, like Angelica, the striver's han Is.
As men frem gaols to execution go;

If law in the judge's heart, and he
Ce throegb the Great Chamber (why is it hung Have no heart to relilt letter or fee,
With the foren deadly sins?) being among Where wilt thou appeal? power of the courts
Those Afzaparts, men big enough to throw

below Charing-crels

, for a bar, men that do know Flows from the first main head; and the e can No token of worth but queen's man and fine

Lirizz, barrels of beef and flagons of wine, Thee, if they suck thee in, to misery,
I thook like a spy'd spy. Preachers! which are To fetters, halters. But if th' injury
Seas of wit and arts, you can, then dare

Steel thee to dare complain, alas! thou go'st
Dross the fins of this place; for, for me,

Against the stream, upwards, when thou art most Which am bot a scant brook, it enough shall be Heavy and most faint ; and in these labours they, Te Fat the tains away; although I yet 'Gainst whom thou shouldft complain, will in thy (Wish Maccabee' modesty) the known merit

way Of my work leffen, yet some wise men thall, Become great seas, o'er which, when thou shalt be I heps, cleem wy writs canonical.

Forc'd to make golden bridges, thou Malt see
That all thy gold was drown'd in them before.
All things follow their like, only who have may

'have more.

Judges are gods; and he who made them so

Meant not men should be forc'd to them to go Tex íhalt not laugh, in this leaf, Muse! nor they By means of angels. When supplications When any pity warnis. He which did lay We send to God, to dominations, Bules to make courtiers, he being understood Powers, cherubims, and all heaven's courts, if we Maysake good courtiers, but who courtiers good? Should pay fees, as here, daily bread would be Fress from the sting of jests all who in extreme Scarce to kings; fo 'r is. Would it not anger Åse wretched or wicked; of these two a theme A stoic, a coward, yea, a martyr, Charity and Liberty give me. What is he To see a pursuivant come in, and call bo officers' rage and suiters' misery

All his clothes Copes, books Primers, and all Caa write in jell? If all things be in all,

His plate Chalices; and mis-take them away, Ås I think, fince all which were, are, and shall And ask a fee for coming? Oh! ne'er may B, be made of the same elements,

Fair law's white rev'rend name be strumpeted, Each thing, each thing implies or represents; To warrant thefes : she is established Then man is a world, in which officers

Recorder to Destiny on earth, and she Are the vast ravishing seas, and fuiters

Speaks Fate's words, and tells who must be Springs, now full, now shallow, now dry, which to Rich, who poor, who in chairs, and who in gaols : That which dro xns them run : these self reasons do She is all fair, but yet hath foul long nails, Prote the world a man, in which officers

With which the scratcheth suitors, In bodies Are the devouring stomach, and suitors

Of men, fo in law, nails are extremities; Ti’escrements which they void. All men are duft; So officers ftretch to more than law can do, Hoy tech worse are suitors, who no men's luft As our nails reach what no elfe part comes to. Are sade preys? O worse than dust or worms' | Why bar'lt thou to yon' officer? Fool, hath he beat!

Got those goods for which erst men bar'd to thee! For they eat you now whose felves wornis shall eat. Fool! twice, thrice, thou halt bought wrong and They are the mills which grind you; yet you are now hungerly The wind which drives them; and a wafful war Begg'it right, but that dole comes not till these die. Is foaght against you, and you fight it: they

Thou hadit much and law's Urini and Thummim Adulterate law, and you prepare the way,

try Like sittals; th' issue your own rain is.

Thou wouldst for more; and for all haft

paper Greatest and faireft Empress ? know you this? Enough to clothe all the great Carrick's pepper, Alas! no more than Thames' calm head doth know Sell that, and by that thou much more shalt lecse Whole meads her arms drown, or whose can o'er. | Than Hammon, when he sold 's antiquities. flow.

O Wretch! that thy fortunes should me salize Yca, Sir, whose righteousness she loves, whom I, Æsop's Fables, and make tales prophesies. Bbaving leave to serve, am moft richly

Thou art the swimming doz, whom ihadows coFor service paid authoriz'd, now begin

zened, To know and weed out this enormous fin. Which div'it, ncar drowning, for what vanished.

lo hating thee. Thou may'st one like this meet ; SATIRE VI.

For spite take her, prove kind, make thy breath

sweet : Men write that love and reason disagree, Let her see the 'hach cause, and to bring to thee But I ne'er faw't exprest as 't is in thee.

Honest children, let her dishoncst be. Well, I may lead thee, God must make thec see; If she be a widow, I'll warrant her But thine eyes blind too, there's no hope for thee. She'll thee before her first hu band preser; Thou fay'lt fhe's wise and witty, fair and free; And will wish thou hadtt had her maidenhead, All these are reasons why she should scorn thee. (She'll love thee so) for then thou hadî been dead. Thou dost protest thy love, and wouldst it shew Bục thou such strong love and weak reasons haft, By matching her, as the would match her foe; Thou must thrive there, or ever live disgrac'd. Ard wouldīt perswade her to a worse offence Yet pause a while, and thou may'st live to see Than that whereof thou didit accuse her wench. A time to come wherein the may beg thee. Reason there's none for thee, but thou may'st vex If thou'lt not pause nor change, she'll beg thee now, Her with example. Say, for fear her sex

Do what she can, love for nothing allow. Shun her, she needs must change : I do no: seç Besides, here were too much gain and merchandise, How reason e'er can bring that must to thee. And when thou art rewarded desert dies. Thou art a match a justice to rejoice,

Now thou hast odds of him she loves; he may doubt Fit to be his, and not his daughter's choice, Her constancy, but none can put thee out. Pry'd with his threats fhe'd scarcely stay with Again, be thy love true, she'll prove divine, thee,

And in the end the good on't will be thine; And wouldft th' have this to choose thee, being For though thou must ne'er think of other love, free?

And so wilt advance her as high above
Go, then, and punish some foon gotten stuff ; Virtue as cause above effect can be,
For her dead husband this bath mourn'd enough 'Tis virtue to be chakte, he'll make thea.





Qa FREDERICK Count PALATINE of the Rbine, and Lady ELIZABETH, being married on

St. Valentine's Day.



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Tak’t warmth enough, and from thine eye Hail, Bishop Valentine! whose day this is, All lefser birds will take their jollity. All the air is thy diocese,

Up, up, fair Bride! and call And all the chirping choristers

Thy stars from out their several boxes; take And other birds are thy parishioners :

Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds, barth, and make Thou marry'st every year

Thyfelf a constellation of them all; The lyric lark and the grave whispering dove; And by their blazing signify The sparrow, that neglects his life for love, That a great princess falls, but doth not die : The household bird with red stomacher;

Be thou a new star, that to us portends Thou mak't the black bird speed as soon

Ends of much wonder, and be thou those ends. As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon;

Since thou dost this day in new glory shine, The husband cock looks out, and itrait is sped, May all men date records from this day, Va And meets his wife, which brings her feather bed. lentine! This day more cheerfully than ever shine ; This day, which might inflame thyself, old Va. Come forth, come forth! and as one glorious lentine!


Meeting another grows the same, Till now thou warm’dft with multiplying loves So meet thy Frederick, and so Two larks, two sparrows or two doyes;

To an unseparable union go; All that is nothing unto this,

Since separation For thou this day coupleft two phanixes.

Falls not on such things as are infinite,
Thou mak'st a taper fee

Nos things which are but once an disunite;
What the sun never saw, and what the ark You're twice inseparable, great, and one.
(Which was of fowl and beasts the cage and park) Go then to where the Bishop stays
Did not contain; one bed contains through theç To make you one; his way, which divers

ways 'I wo phænixes, whose joined breatts

Must be effected; and when all is past, Are unto one another mutual nests;

And that y' are one, by hearts and hands made Where motion kindles such fires as shall give

fast, Young phenixes, and yer the old fhall live; You two have one way left yourselves t' entwine, Whole love and courage never hall decline, Besides this Bithop's knot of Bishop Valentine. But make the whole year through thy day, O Valentine !

But, oh! what ails the fun, that hence he stays

Longer to-day than other days?
Up then, fair Phenix Bride! fruftrate the fun; Stays he new light from th I to get?
Thyself from w.ige affection

And finding here such stars is loth to set;




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And why do you two walk

No more shall you retorn to it alone, So flowly pac'd in this proceslion?

It nurseth sadness; and your body 's print, Is all your care but to be look'd upon,

Like to a grave, the yielding down doth dint : And be to others spectacle and talk?

You and your other you meet there anon; The feast with gluttonous delays

Put forth, put forth, that warm balm-breathing Is caten, and too long their meat they praise.


[smother The masquers come late, and I think will stay, Which when next time you in these fheets will Like Fairies, till the cock crow them away. There it must nieet another, Alas! ad not Antiquity assign

Which never was, but must be oft' more nigh: A night as well as day to thee, old Valentine? Come glad from thence, go gladder than you canie,

To-day put od perfection and a woman's name. They did, and night is come; and yet we fee Formalities retarding thee.

Daughters of London! you which be What mean these ladies, which (as though Our golden mines and furnih'd treasury ; They were to take a clock in pieces) go

You which are angels, yet fill bring with you So nicely about the bride?

Thousands of angels on your marriage days, A bride, before a good-night could be faid, Help with your presence, and devise to praise Should vanish from her clothes into her bed, These rites, which also unto you grow due ; As souls from bodies Ittal, and are not spy'd. Conceitedly dress her, and he aflign'd But now she's laid: what though she be? · By you fit place for every flower and jewel; Yet there are more delays; for where is he? Make her for Love fit fuel He comes, and passeth through sphere after sphere; As gay as Flora, and as rich as Inde; First her feets, then her arms, then any where. So may she, fair and rich, in nothing lame, Let not this day, then, but this night, be thine ; To-day put on perfection and a woman's name. Thy day was but the eve to this, o Valentine !

And you, frolic Patricians ! Here lies a she sun, and he a mo n there;

Sons of those senators, wealth's deep occans; She gives the best light to his sphere;

Ye painted Courtiers! barrels of others' wits, Or each is both, and all, and so

Ye Country men! who but your beasts love none; They unto one another nothing owe:

Ye of those fellowships, whereof he's one, And yet they do; but are

Of study and play made ftrange hermaphrodites, So juft and rich in that coin which they pay, Here shine ; this bridegroom to the temple bring, That neither would, nor needs, forbear nor stay; Lo! in yon' path which store of strow'd flow'rs Neither defires to be fpar'd nor to spare :

graceth, 'They quickly pay their debt, and then

The sober virgin paceth ; Take no acquittances, but pay again :

Except my Ight fail’e is no other thing: They pay, they give, they lend, and so let fall Weep not, nor blush, here is no grief nor shame; No occasion to be liberal.

To.day put on perfection and a woman's name. More truth, more courage, in these two do fine Than all thy curtles have, and sparrows, Valentine! Thy two-lear'd gates fair Temple! unfold,

And these two in thy sacred bolom hold, And by this act of these two phenixes

Till mystically join'd but one they be; Nature again restored is ;

Then may thy lean and hunger-farved womb For since these two are two no more,

Long time expect their bodies and their tomb,
There's but one phænix ftill, as was before. Long after their own parents fateen thee.
Reft now, at last, and we

All elder claims, and all cold barrennefs,
(A- Satyrs watch the sun's uprise) will stay All yielding to new loves be far fer ever,
Waiting when your eyes opened let out day, Which might these two diflever,
Only defired, because your face we see;

Always all th' other may each one poffess;
Others near you shall whisp'ring speak,

For the best bride, best worthy of praise and fame, And wagers lay, at which side day will break, To day puts on perfection and a woman's name. And win, by observing then whose hand it is That opens first a curtain, her's or his.

Winter days bring much delight, This will be try'd to-morrow after nine,

None for themselves, but for they soon bring Till which hour wc thy day enlarge, 0 Valentine! night;

Other sweets wait thee than there diverse meats,
Other disports than dancing jollities,

Other love-cricks than glancing with the eyes;

But that the sun still in our hall sphere sweats;

He fies in winter, but he now stands ftill,
Made at Lincoln's inn.

Yet shadows turn; noon-point he hath attain'd,
His steeds will be restrain's,

But gallop lively down the western hill: [frame, The sun-beams in the East are spread,

Thou shalt, when he hath run the heav'ns halt Leave, leave, fair Bride! your folitary bed; To-night put on perfection and a woman'sname.

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This bed is only to virginity The amorous evening-star is rose,

A grave, but to a better ftate a cradle; Why then should not our amorous star inclose Till now thou wast but able Herself in her with'd bed? Release your strings, To be what now thou art; then that by thee Musicians! and, Dancers! take some truce No more be said I may be, but I am, With these your pleasing labours; for great use To-night put on perfection and a woman's name. As much weariness as perfection brings. You, and not only you but all coil'd beast Ev'n like a faithful man, content Reft duly; at night all their toils are dispens’d; That this life for a better should be spent, But in their beds commenc'd

So fhe a mother's rich style doth prefer, [lie, Are ocher labours, and more dainty feasts. And at the bridegroom's wish'd approach doth She goes a maid who, left she turn the same, Like an appointed lamb, when tenderly To-night puts on perfection and a woman's The priest comes on his knees t'imbowel her. name.

Now leep or watch with more joy; and, oh! VII.

light Thy virgin's girdle now watie,

Of heav'n! to-morrow rise thou hot and early, And in thy nuptial bed (Love's altar) lie This sun will love so dearly A pleasing facrifice; now dispossess

Her reft, that long, long, we shall want her sight. Thee of these chains and robes which were put on Wonders are wrought; for the which had no T' adorn the day, not thee; for thou alone, Like Virtue and Truth, are beft in pakedness; To-night puts on perfection and a woman's name: VOL. IV.



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