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He strives to look worse ; he keeps all in awe ;
Jests like a licens'd fool, commands like law.

Tyr'd, now I leave this place, and but pleas'd so
As men from gaols to execution go,
Go, through the great chamber (why is it hung
With the seven deadly sins ?) being among
Those Askaparts *, men big enough to throw
Charing-Cross for a bar, men that do know
No token of worth, but Queens man, and fine
Living ; barrels of beef, ftaggons of wine.
I shook like a spied spie - Preachers which are
Seas of wit and arts, you can, then dare,
Drown the sins of this place, but as for me
Which am but a scant brook, enough shall be
To wash the stains away: Although I yet
(With Maccabees modesty) the known merit
Of my work lessen, yet some wise men shall
I hope, esteem my writs canonical.

* A giant famous in romances.

275

Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe, 270 Jests like a licens'd fool, commands like law.

Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it so As men from jails to execution

go ; For, hung with deadly sins, I see the wall, And lin’d with giants deadlier than 'em all : Each man an Askapart, of strength to toss For quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing-cross. Scar'd at the grizly forms, I sweat, I Ay, And shake all o'er, like a discover'd spy. 279

Courts are too much for wit's so weak as mine : Charge them with heav'n's artillry, bold divine ! From such alone the great rebukes endure, Whose satire's sacred, and whose rage secure : "Tis mine to wash a few light stains, but theirs To deluge sin, and drown a court in tears. 285 Howe'er what's now Apocrypha, my wit, In time to come, may pass for holy writ.

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EPILOGUE

TO THE

SA TIRE S.

IN TWO DIALOGUES.

WRITTEN IN MDCCXXXVIII.

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