« ZurückWeiter »
Who wastes in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes,
shortly boys shall not play
my humour, or his own to fit,
Whose place is quarter'd out, three parts in four,
140 And cheats th' unknowing widow and the poor : Who makes a trust of charity a job, And gets an act of parliament to rob : Why turnpikes rise, and now no cit nor clown. Can gratis see the country, or the town: 145 Shortly no lad shall chuck, or lady vole, But some excising courtier will have toll. He tells what strumpet places sells for life, What 'squire his lands, what citizen his wife : And last (which proves him wiser still than all) 150 What lady's face is not a whited wall.
As one of Woodward's patients, sick, and sore, I puke, I nauseate,—yet he thrusts in more : Trims Europe's balance, tops the stateman's part, And talks gazettes and post-boys o'er by heart. 155 Like a big wife at sight of loathsome meat Ready to cast, I yawn, I sigh, and sweat. Then as a licens'd spy, whom nothing can Silence or hurt, he libels the great man ; Swears ev'ry place entail'd for years to come,
160 In sure succession to the day of doom: He names the price for ev'ry office paid, And says our wars thrive ill, because delay'd:
B B 3
I must pay
As the last day ; and that great officers
I more amaz'd than Circe's prisoners, when
mercy now was come : 'he tries to bring
Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the court,
In that nice moment, as another lie Stood just a-tilt, the minister came by. To him he flies, and bows, and bows again, Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train. Not Fannius' self more impudently near, When half his nose is in his prince's ear. I quak'd at heart ; and still afraid, to see 180 All the court fill'd with stranger things than he, Ran out as fast, as one that
his bail And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
Bear me, some God! oh quickly bear me hence To wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense : 185 Where contemplation prunes her ruffled wings, And the free soul looks down to pity kings ! There sober thought pursu'd th' amusing theme, Till fancy colour'd it, and form'd a dream. A vision hermits can to hell transport,
190 And forc'd ev'n me to see the damn'd at court.
At home in wholesome solitariness My piteous soul began the wretchedness Of suitors at court to mourn, and a trance Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did adva ice Itself o'er me : such men as he saw there I saw at court, and worse and more. Low. fear Becomes the guilty, not th' accuser : Then, Shall I, none's slave, of high-born or rais’d men Fear frowns; and my mistress Truth, betray thee For th' huffing, bragart, puft nobility ? No, no, thou which since yesterday hast been Almost about the whole world, hast thou seen, O Sun, in all thy journey, vanity, Such as swells the bladder of our court ? I Think he which made your waxen
garden, and Transported it from Italy, to stand With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for Just such gay painted things, which no sap, nor Tast have in them, ours are ; and natural Some of the stocks are ; their fruits bastard all.
'Tis ten a clock and past; all whom the mues, Baloun, or tennis, diet, or the stews Had all the morning held, now the second Time made ready, that day, in flocks are found In the Presence, and I (God pardon me) As fresh and sweet their apparels be, as be
* A show of the Italian garden in war-work, in the time of King James the First.