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My Soul's too narrow to contain my Blifs!

Thou pleafing Torture of my Breaft!

Sure thou wert form'd to plague my Reft!

Since both the Good and Ill you do, alike my Peace deftroy, This kills me with Excess of Grief, that with Excefs of Joy.

IGNORANCE.

Seeing aright, we fee our Woes,
Then what avails us to have Eyes?
From Ignorance our Comfort flows,
The only wretched are the Wife,
ignorance, Difcora's Parent, by her flood,

And from her Breaft fqueez'd Juice like blackish Blood,
Her hateful Offspring's moft delicious Food.

A formidable Figure! black as Night!

That does in Shades and Labyrinths delight;
Exceeding fierce, but deftitute of Sight.

A Crowd of howling Hell-hounds near her ftay'd,
All hideous Forms! and her Commands obey'd
Contention, Zeal, inexorable Rage,

And Strife, that wretched Men in Arms engage;
Various Divifion, Malice, deadly Hate,

That rend a Kingdom and diffolve a State.

IMPRECATIONS. See Cure.

Final Deftru&tion fieze on all the World:

Bend down, ye Heav'ns! and thutting round this Earth,
Crush the vile Glbbe into its firft Confufion;

Scorch it with elemental Flames to one curft Cinder,
And all us little Creepers in't, call'd Men,
Burn, burn to nothing! But let Venice burn
Hotter than all the reft: Here kindle Hell
Ne'er to extinguifh; and let Souls hereafter
Groan here in all thofe Päins which mine feels now.
Oh that my Arms could both the Poles embrace,
And wreft the World's ftrong Pillars from their Bafe;
That all the crackling Frame might be disjoyn'd,
And bury in its Ruin Human-kind.

That I could reach the Axle where the Fins are
Which bolt this Frame, that I might pull 'em out,
And pluck all into Chaos with my felf!

(Walt

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(Prof Otw, Ven,

Blac,

Who would not fall with all the World about him ?
Oh that, as oft I have at Athens feen

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The Stage arife, and the big Clouds defcend;

So now in very Deed I might behold

The pond'rous Earth, and all yon marble Roof,

Meet like the Hands of Jove, and crush Mankind:
For all the Elements, and all the Powers
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Celestial

Celestial, nay, Terrestrial and Infernal,
Confpire the Rack of outcaft Oedipus.
Fall Darkness then, and everlasting Night
Shadow the Globe: May the Sun never dawn;
The filver Moon be blotted from her Orb;
And for a univerfal Rout of Nature,

Through all the inmoft Chambers of the Sky,
May there not be a Glimpfe, one ftarry Spark,
But Gods meet Gods, and juftle in the Dark:
That Jars may rife, and Wrath divine be hurld,
Which may to Atoms shake the folid World.

Curft be the Hour that gave me Birth :
Confufion and Disorder fieze the World,
To spoil all Truft and Converse among Men;
'Twixt Families engender endless Feuds,
In Countries needlefs Fears, in Cities Factions,
In States Rebellion, and in Churches Schifm;
Till all things move against the Courfe of Nature;
Till Form's diffolv'd, the Chain of Caufes broken,
And the Original of Being loft.

Loofen'd Nature

Leap from its Hinges, fink the Props of Heav'n,
And fall the Skies to crufh the nether World,
IM PUDENCE.

Lee Oedip.

Otw. Orph.

(Love

Dryd. All for

Get that great Gift and Talent, Impudence,
Accomplish'd Mankinds highest Excellence;
'Tis that alone prefers, alone makes great,
Confers alone Wealth, Titles, and Eftate;
Gains Place at Court, can make a Fool a Peer,
An Afs a Bishop; can vil'ft Blockheads rear
To wear red Hats, and fit in porph'ry Chair:
'Tis Learning, Parts, and Skill, and Wit, and Senfe,
Worth, Merit, Honour, Virtue, Innocence.

For he that has but Impudence,

To all things has a fair Pretence;
And put among his Wants but Shame,
To all the World he may lay Claim.

INCEST.
Nature abhors

To be forc'd back again upon her felf,

}

Oláh.

Hud.

And, like a Whirlpool, fwallow her own Streams. Dryd. Oedip.
Custom our native Royalty does awe,

Promifcuous Love is Nature's eldest Law:
For whofoever the first Lovers were,
Brother and Sifter made the fecond Pair;
And doubled by their Love their Piety.

Then is it Sin? or makes my Mind alone

Dryd. Auren.

Th

Th'imagin'd Sin? For Nature makes it none.
What Tyrant then these envious Laws began ?
Made not for any other Beaft but Man:

The Father-Bull his Daughter may beftride,
The Horfe may make his Mother-Mare a Bride.
What Piety forbids the lufty Ram,

Or more falacious Goat to rut their Dam ?
The Hen is free to wed the Chick fhe bore,
And make a Husband whom the hatch'd before.
All Creatures elfe are of a happier Kind,
Whom not ill-natur'd Laws from Pleasure bind,
Nor Thoughts of Sin difturb their Peace of Mind.
But Man a Slave of his own making lives,
The Fool denies himself what Nature gives.
Too bufy Senates, with an over Care,
To make us better than our Kind can bear,
Have dash'd a Spice of Envy in the Laws,
And ftraining up too high, have spoil'd the Caufe.
Yet fome wife Nations break the cruel Chains,
And own no Laws but those which Love ordains;
Where happy Daughters with their Sires are joyn'd;
And Piety is doubly paid in Kind:

}

Dryd. Ovid.

Falfe.

O that I had been born in fuch a Clime !
Not here, where 'tis the Country makes the Crime.
But whither would my impious Fancy stray!
Hence Hopes, and ye forbidden Thoughts away.
INCONSTANCY. See Conftancy,
I never yet could fee that Face
Which had no Dart for me;
From fifteen Years to fifty's Space
They all victorious be.

Colour or Shape, good Limbs or Face
Goodness or Wit in all I find;
In Motion or in Speech a Grace:
If all fail yet 'tis Woman-kind.
If tall, the Name of Proper flays,
If fair, fhe's pleafant as the Light;
If low, her Prettinefs does pleafe;

If black, what Lover loves not Night:
The fat, like Plenty, fills my Heart;
The lean, with Love, makes me fo too
If ftreight, her Body's Cupid's Dart
To me; if crooked 'tis his Bow.

Nay, Age it felf does me to Rage encline,
And Strength to Women gives, as well as Wine,
Him who loves always one why fhould we call
More conftant, than the Man loves always all?
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All my paft Life is mine no more,
The flying Hours are gone,
Like tranfitory Dreams giv'n o'er,
Whofe Images are kept in Store,
By Memory alone.
Whatever is to come, is not;
How can it then be mine?
The prefent Moment's all my Lot,
And that as faft as it is got,
Phillis, is wholly thine.
Then talk not of Inconftancy,

Falfe Hearts, and broken Vows;

If I by Miracle can be

This live-long Minute true to thee,
'Tis all that Heav'n allows.

For as a Pythagorean Soul

Runs thro' all Beafts, and Fifh, and Fowl,

And has a Smack of ev'ry one;

So Love does, and has ever done:

And therefore, tho' 'tis ne'er so fond,
Takes ftrangely to the Vagabond.
'Tis but an Ague that's reverft,
Whofe hot Fit takes the Patient first;
That after burns with Cold as much,
As Ice in Greenland does the Touch:
Melts in the Furnace of Defire,
Like Glafs, that's but the Ice of Fire ;
And when his Heat of Fancy's over,
Becomes as hard and frail a Lover.

Change is Fate, and not Defign;
Loye, like us, muft Fate obey:
Since 'tis Nature's Law to change,
Conftancy alone is ftrange.

Inconftancy's the Plague that firft or laft

Taints the whole Sex, the catching Court-Disease.

INFIRMARY.

Immediately a Place

Before his Eyes appear'd, fick, noifom, dark:
A Lazar-Houfe it feem'd, wherein were laid
Numbers of all Difeas'd, all Maladies.
Dire was the toffing, deep the Groans: Defpair
Tended the Sick, bufy from Couch to Couch;
And over them triumphant Death his Dart
Shook, but delay'd to ftrike, tho' oft invok'd
With Vows, as their chief Good and final Hope.

INGRATITUDE.

Ingratitude's the Growth of every Clime.

Roch

Hud.

Roch

(thrid

Lee Mi

Milt

Dryd. Don Se
And

And in this thanklefs World the Givers
Are envy'd ev'n by the Receivers :
'Tis now the cheap and frugal Fashion,
Rather to hide than pay the Obligation:
Nay, 'tis much worse than fo,
It now an Artifice does grow,
Wrongs and Outrages to do,
Left Men fhould think we owe.

Fate ne'er strikes deep but when Unkindness joins:

But there's a Fate in Kindness,

Cowl. Pind.

Still to be leaft return'd where moft 'tis given. Dryd. Sec. Love. So often try'd, and ever found so true,

Has giv'n me Truft, and Truft has giv'n me Means

Once to be falfe for all.

Dryd. Don Seb.

He trufts us both! mark that! fhall we betray him?
A Mafter who reposes Life and Empire
On our Fidelity? I grant he is a Tyrant :
That hated Name my Nature most abhors;
More, as you fay, has loaded me with Shame,
Ev'n with the laft Contempt, to ferve Sebaftian:
Yet more, I know he vacates my Revenge,
Which, but by this Revolt, I cannot compafs.
But while he trufts me, 't were fo bafe a Part
To fawn and yet betray, I fhould be hiss'd
And whoop'd in Hell for that Ingratitude.
Is not the Bread thou eat'ft, the Robe thou wear'ft,
Thy Wealth and Honour, all, the pure Indulgence
Qf him thou would'ft deftroy?

And would his Creature, nay his Friend, betray him?
Why then no Bond is left on Human-kind;
Diftrufts, Debates, immórtal Strifes enfue;

Children may murther Parents, Wives their Husbands;
All must be Rapine, Wars, and Defolation,
When Truft' and Gratitude no longer bind.

Both falfe and faithless!

Dryd. Don Seb.

Draw near ye well-joyn'd Wickednefs, ye Serpents
Whom I have in my kindly Bofom warm'd

Till I am ftung to Death.

My whole Life

Has been a golden Dream of Love and Friendship;
But now I wake, I'm like a Merchant rowz'd
From foft Repofe, to fee his Veffel finking,

And all his Wealth caft o'er. Ingrateful Woman!
Who follow'd me but as the Swallow Summer,
Hatching her young ones in my kindly Beams,
Singing her Flatteries to my morning Wake;
But now my Winter comes the fpreads her Wings,
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And

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