As the last day; and that great officers Do with the Spaniards share, and Dunkirkers.
I more amaz'd than Circe's prisoners, when They felt themselves turn beasts, felt myself then Becoming traytor, and methought I saw One of our giant statues ope his jaw,
To suck me in for hearing him: I found That as burnt venomous leachers do grow sound By giving others their sores, I might grow Guilty, and he free: therefore I did show All signs of loathing; but since I am in, I must pay mine, and my forefathers' sin To the last farthing. Therefore to my power Toughly and stubbornly I bear; but th' hower Of mercy now was come: he tries to bring Me to pay a fine, to 'scape a torturing.
And says, Sir, can you spare me? I said, Willingly ; Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I Gave it, as ransom; but as fidlers, still,
Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will Thrust one more jig upon you: so did he With his long complimented thanks vex me. But he is gone, thanks to his needy want, And the prerogative of my crown; scant His thanks were ended, when I (which did see All the court fill'd with more strange things than he) Ran from thence with such, or more haste than one Who fears more actions, doth haste from prison.
Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the court,
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a port. 165 Not more amazement seiz'd on Circe's guests, To see themselves fall endlong into beasts, Than mine, to find a subject stay'd and wise Already half turn'd traytor by surprize.
I felt th' infection slide from him to me, As in the pox, some give it to get And quick to swallow me, methought I saw One of our giant statues ope its jaw.
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
All the court fill'd with stranger things than he,
Ran out as fast, as one that pays 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: 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,
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 advance 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 wax-work, in the time of King James the First.
Not Dante dreaming all th' infernal state Beheld such scenes of envy, sin, and hate. Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free Suits tyrants, plunderers, but suits not me: Shall I, the terror of this sinful town, Care, if a liv'ry'd lord or smile or frown? Who cannot flatter, and detest who can, Tremble before a noble serving-man? O my fair mistress, Truth! shall I quit thee For huffing, braggart, puff'd nobility? Thou, who since yesterday hast roll'd o'er all The busy, idle blockheads of the ball, Hast thou, oh Sun! beheld an emptier sort, Than such as swell this bladder of a court? Now pox on those who shew a court in wax! It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs: Such painted puppets! such a varnish'd race Of hollow gew-gaws, only dress and face! Such waxen noses, stately staring things- No wonder some folks bow, and think them kings. See! where the British youth, engag'd no more At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a whore,
VER. 206. Court in wax!] A famous shew of the court of France in wax work.
VER.213. At Figs', at White's,] White's was a noted gaminghouse: Fig's, a prize-fighter's academy, where the young nobility received instruction in those days: It was also customary for the nobility and gently to visit the condemn'd criminals in Newgate.
Their fields they sold to buy them. For a king Those hose are, cry the flatterers; and bring Them next week to the theatre to sell.
Wants reach all states: me seems they do as well At stage, as courts; all are players. Whoe'er looks (For themselves dare not go) o'er Cheapside books, Shall find their wardrobes inventory. Now The ladies come. As pirates (which do know That there came weak ships fraught with cutchanel) The men board them; and praise (as they think) well, Their beauties; they the mens wits; both are bought. Why good wits ne'er wear scarlet gowns, I thought This cause, These men, mens wits for speeches buy, And women buy all red which scarlets dye. He call'd her beauty lime-twigs, her hair net: She fears her drugs ill-lay'd, her hair loose set. Would not Heraclitus laugh to see Macrine From hat to shoe, himself at door refine, As if the Presence were a mosque: and lift
His skirts and hose, and call his clothes to shrift, Making them confess not only mortal
Great stains and holes in them, but venial
Feathers and dust, wherewith they fornicate;
And then by Durer's rules survey the state
VER. 220. our stage give rules,] Alluding to the authority of the Lord Chamberlain.
« ZurückWeiter » |