611:00,000@@@@@| 611:00,000[' ]| 611:00,001[' ]| Happy are they in$4$ Amorous Fields, that$6#1$ Rove 611:00,002[' ]| And Sing no$2$ other Songs than those of love; 611:00,003[' ]| Whose Verses treat of nought but careless ease, 611:00,004[' ]| And in$4$ their Sonnets only strive to$9$ please: 611:00,005[' ]| Nature at first to$4$ men never arts did give, 611:00,006[' ]| But all untaught knew only how to$9$ live; 611:00,007[' ]| That$6#2$ word called Faction in$4$ a sullen Mood 611:00,008[' ]| Did hide its Face, or it was not understood: 611:00,009[' ]| But fleering fate doth various Faces show, 611:00,010[' ]| And seasons change: and why may not Mortals too? 611:00,011[' ]| To$4$ Fame or Infamy all men are born 611:00,012[' ]| And he is an Asse lets slip the lucky turn. 611:00,013[' ]| But who$6#1$ to$4$ power by$4$ Fate were never designed, 611:00,014[' ]| And yet endued with ambitious Mind 611:00,015[' ]| Will$1$ Natures precept break, and Gods wont own 611:00,016[' ]| Will$1$ ransack Temples, pull the Alters down, 611:00,017[' ]| Slander the Subject, and abuse the Crown. 611:00,018[' ]| So$3$ to$4$ our Plague a Factious Party is come, 611:00,019[' ]| The infantry of old Rebellious Rome, 611:00,020[' ]| And because the Whelps for$4$ Hells intrigues should bawl, 611:00,021[' ]| The Devil came and dubbed them Tories all, 611:00,022[' ]| A party in$4$ the dismal Book of doom 611:00,023[' ]| Was damned before made for$4$ all their sins to$9$ come. 611:00,024[' ]| This numerous Progeny doth fill our Thames 611:00,025[' ]| As Frogs and Toads abound in$4$ Nilus streams, 611:00,026[' ]| And just like$4$ those the same effect they bring; 611:00,027[' ]| They Crawl from thence to$4$ Chambers of our King; 611:00,028[' ]| That$6#2$ was a single plague on$4$ Egypts men, 611:00,029[' ]| But this on$4$ us may vye with all their Ten: 611:00,030[' ]| This party first by$4$ close designs did rise, 611:00,031[' ]| By$4$ Plots, by$4$ Shams, and other Forgeries, 611:00,032[' ]| Until by$4$ immortal lies, immortal made 611:00,033[' ]| Sweetly sat down in$4$ Royal favours shade, 611:00,034[' ]| Where they their canting dirges sit and sing, 611:00,035[' ]| And every Puny Tory is a King. 611:00,036[' ]| Their Plot found out and dying began to$9$ fail, 611:00,037[' ]| Oaths would not do; and shams would not prevail: 611:00,038[' ]| Now for$4$ a Cordial all begin to$9$ strive, 611:00,039[' ]| To$9$ fetch their dying Plot again to$4$ life: 611:00,040[' ]| Their former Evidences were dull tools, 611:00,041[' ]| And all their subtle Jesuites were but fools, 611:00,042[' ]| But next to$4$ the keen Wits they do address, 611:00,043[' ]| And they must Charm it up$5$ again in$4$ Verse. 611:00,044[' ]| The first they do Petition is Mr%*Bays, 611:00,045[' ]| So$5#1$ much extolled by$4$ Fools and vulgar Praise, 611:00,046[' ]| By$4$ lewd lascivious Verses, bawdy Rhymes, 611:00,047[' ]| Dubbed the sweet singing Poet of the times; 611:00,048[' ]| He the black Paths of Sin had travelled over 611:00,049[' ]| And found out Vices all unknown before, 611:00,050[' ]| To$4$ sins once hid in$4$ shades of gloomy Night, 611:00,051[' ]| He gave new Lustre and reduced to$4$ Light. 611:00,052[' ]| His Muse was Prostitute upon$4$ the Stage, 611:00,053[' ]| And his Wife was Prostitute to$4$ all the age: 611:00,054[' ]| The Wife is Rich although the Husband Poor, 611:00,055[' ]| And he not honest, and she is a Whore, 611:00,056[' ]| An ill, deformed, senceless earthly load, 611:00,057[' ]| And he the Monster of the Muses road; 611:00,058[' ]| His shapeless Body hangs an hundred ways 611:00,059[' ]| The Poet looks just like$4$ a heap of Plays; 611:00,060[' ]| You shall not find through all the buzzing Town 611:00,061[' ]| So$5#1$ Ungentile, Unmannerly a Clown: 611:00,062[' ]| Though ugly, yet he vents a pleasing strain 611:00,063[' ]| For$3$ Nature never made a thing in$4$ vain. 611:00,064[' ]| If not for$4$ Priest, for$4$ States-man he may do; 611:00,065[' ]| Bless us! are Poets Politicians too? 611:00,066[' ]| Or are the Muses mad and in$4$ their Heat 611:00,067[' ]| Send out their Poets Officers of State? 611:00,068[' ]| Or are the Lawyers drunk and think it fit 611:00,069[' ]| That$3$ reason yeild to$4$ that$6#2$ lewd thing, a Wit? 611:00,070[' ]| But private factious Plotters never heed 611:00,071[' ]| If their designs go on$5$, who$6#1$ do the deed: 611:00,072[' ]| So$3$ engine Bays, the Tory-Plot to$9$ save 611:00,073[' ]| He first turns Fool, and then commences Knave: 611:00,074[' ]| But yet (methinks) I hear him before he chuse 611:00,075[' ]| In$4$ private parley with his Fustian Muse, 611:00,076[A ]| Base Muse! 611:00,076[' ]| he says, 611:00,076[A ]| with impudence canst sing? 611:00,077[A ]| In$4$ scornful lines canst thou revile a King? 611:00,078[A ]| With inky Clouds of lyes, canst thou obscure 611:00,079[A ]| An Hero's Glory infinitely pure? 611:00,080[A ]| Canst thou call Politicians Fops and Fools? 611:00,081[A ]| Canst ridicule the Arts of learned Schools? 611:00,082[A ]| Canst dress up$5$ folly in$4$ a Garb so$5#1$ fit 611:00,083[A ]| That$3$ amongst Madmen it may pass for$4$ wit? 611:00,084[' ]| His Muse accustomed to$4$ such tricks as these 611:00,085[' ]| Gave her consent by$4$ holding of her Peace. 611:00,086[' ]| But he replied, ~~ 611:00,087[A ]| Base abject slave to$4$ any of the Town 611:00,088[A ]| Whoever but Fops and Fools gave thee renown? 611:00,089[A ]| Canst thou abuse that$6#2$ youthful Hero's fame, 611:00,090[A ]| That$6#1$ wide as the vast World hath spread his name? 611:00,091[A ]| When he from Mastricht warlike Trophies bore, 611:00,092[A ]| Vollies of Praises ecchoed on$4$ the Shoar; 611:00,093[A ]| Then every Brave his Offering did prepare 611:00,094[A ]| And Sacrifices to$4$ this God of War, 611:00,095[A ]| Then Jo*Peans by$4$ our Swains were sung, 611:00,096[A ]| And Peals of Triumph through our Cities rung; 611:00,097[A ]| But now his honour is sullied and forgot 611:00,098[A ]| And all his Glory poysoned with a Plot, 611:00,099[B ]| Here hold, ingrate, recal his love to$4$ thee, 611:00,100[B ]| When fleged with Guynies he did let thee fly, 611:00,101[B ]| Impt with his favour thou didst dare the brave 611:00,102[B ]| And every other Poet was thy Slave; 611:00,103[B ]| Think! with indulgent Grace it is he hath been 611:00,104[B ]| The only Patron of thy Maximin; 611:00,105[B ]| Where then thine accents lies or didst thou feign, 611:00,106[B ]| And only complement to$9$ draw in$5$ Coin; 611:00,107[B ]| So$3$ when to$9$ Damn was in$4$ her graces power, 611:00,108[B ]| She kindly smiled on$4$ the*Indian*Emperor 611:00,109[B ]| Though drest in$4$ silly Fustion he did go 611:00,110[B ]| In$4$ ugglier Cloaths than ever at Mexico; 611:00,111[B ]| So$5#1$ basely scratcht by$4$ thy corroding Pen, 611:00,112[B ]| The Indians would scarce know their Prince again, 611:00,113[B ]| Poor Montezuma in$4$ no$2$ hands secure 611:00,114[B ]| Creeps to$4$ her Alcove for$4$ a perfect Cure, 611:00,115[B ]| There having Scanned the Sense of every line 611:00,116[B ]| She hugged the nasty Indian because it was thine. 611:00,117[' ]| Then cheering up$5$ he ended the dispute; 611:00,118[' ]| Muses like$4$ Monarchs still are absolute; 611:00,119[' ]| Tempted by$4$ Gold, he lets his Satyr fly, 611:00,120[' ]| And swears that$3$ all within its Talons dye; 611:00,121[' ]| He Huffs, and Struts, and Cocks an hundred ways, 611:00,122[' ]| And damns the Whiggs because they did damn his Plays. 611:00,123[' ]| So$5#1$ raging once it was thought himself he had stabbed 611:00,124[' ]| Because Rochester Baptised him Poet Squab. 611:00,125[' ]| And he had done it but that$3$ he had vowed before 611:00,126[' ]| After Rose-alley drubs he would never use weapons more. 611:00,127[' ]| When Coin is spent he sooths the baser Cit; 611:00,128[' ]| And lives on$4$ his old stock his mother wit; 611:00,129[' ]| Rubs up$5$ his rusty Muse and looks as big 611:00,130[' ]| As Crow in$4$ Gutter or ten penny Pig. 611:00,131[' ]| A Common-wealth he cryeth up$5$ today, 611:00,132[' ]| Tomorrow Preacheth Arbitrary sway; 611:00,133[' ]| Lampoons the Prince, praises a Tyrants Laws 611:00,134[' ]| And giveth Lust and Zeal the same applause; 611:00,135[' ]| And in$4$ one Breath, so$5#1$ quick his fancies be 611:00,136[' ]| He can Speak Treason, and fart Loyalty; 611:00,137[' ]| From such fleet wills kind Heaven deliver me! 611:00,138[' ]| Read but his Plays and what else ever he writ 611:00,139[' ]| You will$1$ find but little Judgment and less Wit; 611:00,140[' ]| If he dull Ravenscroft by$4$ chance excel 611:00,141[' ]| Thanks to$4$ old Nokes that$6#1$ humours it so$5#1$ well; 611:00,142[' ]| Thanks to$4$ the Scenes and Musicke for$4$ his Wit 611:00,143[' ]| Thanks to$4$ the Whores lie squeeking in$4$ the Pit, 611:00,144[' ]| That$6#1$ Bullies can not hear, yet praise the Fact 611:00,145[' ]| And bravely Clap the Actor not the Act. 611:00,146[' ]| Shadwell and Settle are both Fools to$4$ Bays, 611:00,147[' ]| They have no$2$ bawdy Prologues to$4$ their Plays; 611:00,148[' ]| These silly Villains under a pretence 611:00,149[' ]| Of wit, deceive us and like$4$ men write sence. 611:00,150[A ]| Alas! 611:00,150[' ]| says Bays, 611:00,150[A ]| what are your Wits to$4$ me? 611:00,151[A ]| Chapman is a sad dul Rogue at Comedy; 611:00,152[A ]| Shirley is an Ass to$9$ write at such a rate 611:00,153[A ]| But I excel the whole Triumverate: 611:00,154[A ]| In$4$ all my worthy Plays shew if you can 611:00,155[A ]| Such a rough Character as Solyman; 611:00,156[A ]| But though I have no$2$ Plot, and Verse be rough, 611:00,157[A ]| I say it is Wit, and that$6#2$ sure is enough. 611:00,158[A ]| The Lawrel makes a Wit; a Brave, the Sword; 611:00,159[A ]| And all are wise men at a Councel board; 611:00,160[A ]| S***le is a Coward, because fool Ot**y fought him, 611:00,161[A ]| And Mul***ve is a Wit because I taught him. 611:00,162[' ]| So$5#2$ Hectors Bay until one would think it was fit 611:00,163[' ]| That$3$ none but Fools should write or judge of Wit; 611:00,164[' ]| His pigmie wit, and little infant sence 611:00,165[' ]| Rightly defined is nought but impudence; 611:00,166[' ]| His lines are weak, though of lewd Catches full 611:00,167[' ]| And nought is strong about him but his Scull. 611:00,168[' ]| The brave defensive headpeice of a Fool. 611:00,169[' ]| Of all mean Hackney Jades, he would never use 611:00,170[' ]| This Mercenary party coulered Muse, 611:00,171[' ]| Whoever beholds he strait must needs confess 611:00,172[' ]| She is clad at once in$4$ home and forreign dress. 611:00,173[' ]| Read Dry**ns plays, and read Corneille's too, 611:00,174[' ]| You will$1$ swear the Frenchman speaks good English now, 611:00,175[' ]| Amongst borrowed Sense some airy flashes drop, 611:00,176[' ]| To$9$ please the feeble Females and the Fop, 611:00,177[' ]| So$5#1$ soft and gentle flourishes do move, 611:00,178[' ]| The weak admiring Maid, and fire Love; 611:00,179[' ]| Quickens the dizzy Soul with Love beset, 611:00,180[' ]| And tamely draws it to$4$ the Golden Net, 611:00,181[' ]| Stupid it lies, and senceless of its pain, 611:00,182[' ]| And kindly kisses the bewitching Chain; 611:00,183[' ]| Cupid is the God; and Love is all the Song 611:00,184[' ]| The blest Elysium of the sportful young, 611:00,185[' ]| But eased of this so$5#1$ kind, so$5#1$ grateful pain, 611:00,186[' ]| And brought unto its former sense again, 611:00,187[' ]| The glimmering Lamp is lustre once so$5#1$ bright, 611:00,188[' ]| Looks like$4$ the Torches of eternal night, 611:00,189[' ]| The amorous paths with sweets inchanted strown, 611:00,190[' ]| Looks like$4$ Acyna when her paint was gone: 611:00,191[' ]| That$6#2$ wit upon$4$ the Stage cryed up$5$ today, 611:00,192[' ]| Tomorrow in$4$ the Closet is thrown away; 611:00,193[' ]| Wit, though with glory it may chance to$9$ rise, 611:00,194[' ]| And mounting seem to$9$ kiss the very skies, 611:00,195[' ]| Yet if above the bounds of Sense it get, 611:00,196[' ]| It is all wind, and is no$2$ longer wit: 611:00,197[' ]| But Bay in$4$ all his wit is stanch and sound, 611:00,198[' ]| Though in$4$ it all there is no$2$ proportion found; 611:00,199[' ]| But what he speaks or writes, or does amiss, 611:00,200[' ]| It is all wit; but why? because it is his; 611:00,201[' ]| It is wit in$4$ him, if he all Sense oppose, 611:00,202[' ]| It was wit in$4$ D'avenant too to$9$ lose his Nose, 611:00,203[' ]| If so$5#2$, then Bays is D'avenant's wisest Son, 611:00,204[' ]| After so$5#1$ many claps to$9$ keep his on$5$. 611:00,205[' ]| But who$6#2$ but Fools would praise dull Ot**ys strains, 611:00,206[' ]| Composed with little wit and lesser pains; 611:00,207[' ]| Whose fiery face doth dart as hot a ray, 611:00,208[' ]| As the fierce warmer of a Summer day, 611:00,209[' ]| Whose very looks would drive the Fiends away. 611:00,210[' ]| He may so$5#1$ painted with the juice of Vines, 611:00,211[' ]| Turn his Invectives to$4$ the praise of Wines, 611:00,212[' ]| Love is a piteous God, and Honour is grown, 611:00,213[' ]| To$4$ such a height it is almost unknown; 611:00,214[' ]| Immortal beauty drowned in$4$ quiet lies, 611:00,215[' ]| And spends all its charms on$4$ its owners Eyes; 611:00,216[' ]| But Wine does now the Poets breast inspire, 611:00,217[' ]| Wine, that$6#1$ doth kindle all our youthful fire 611:00,218[' ]| Wine; that$6#1$ makes Ot**y write and Fools admire, 611:00,219[' ]| His Verse of Wine stinks worse than bawdy punk 611:00,220[' ]| For$3$ he never writes a Verse but when he is drunk; 611:00,221[' ]| Sure thou wast drunk, when in$4$ Pindarick strain, 611:00,222[' ]| Against Libels didst thy dull Muse complain: 611:00,223[' ]| But why didst term it Satyr? Satyr tart 611:00,224[' ]| And piercing Verse, that$6#1$ wounds unto the heart; 611:00,225[' ]| But thou got dully drunk over a Pint Pot, 611:00,226[' ]| Forgets thy Subject like$4$ a drunken Sot, 611:00,227[' ]| And instead of Satyr didst unto the praise 611:00,228[' ]| Of those that$6#1$ beat the Dutch a Poem raise; 611:00,229[' ]| The drowzy, heavy Hollander as well 611:00,230[' ]| May chant his Poems, and his Fortunes tell, 611:00,231[' ]| Their Fleet as good, their men as strong as ours, 611:00,232[' ]| The difference lies but in$4$ the Governors, 611:00,233[' ]| Theirs only win by$4$ Guns, by$4$ Ships, by$4$ might, 611:00,234[' ]| Ours grew Politicians in$4$ the fight; 611:00,235[' ]| And with their tricks at Land did them perplex, 611:00,236[' ]| By$4$ building awful Sconces on$4$ their decks, 611:00,237[' ]| Environed round with sturdy Cable stood, 611:00,238[' ]| Defying bullets still maintained the fight; 611:00,239[' ]| Thy brain is immured with a thick Scull as good, 611:00,240[' ]| As bravely dost this bravest act recite: 611:00,241[' ]| As Castlemain the Victory does rehearse 611:00,242[' ]| In$4$ falsest Prose, thou dost confirm in$4$ Verse: 611:00,243[' ]| So$3$ when it was in$4$ Dispute in$4$ lowest shades, 611:00,244[' ]| (where the foyled Seamen in$4$ new Rivers wades) 611:00,245[' ]| Who$6#1$ justly should the warlike Trophies bear, 611:00,246[' ]| Whether the English or the Hollander. 611:00,247[' ]| Some Ships of ours did meerly out of spight 611:00,248[' ]| Dive down to$9$ prove it was our lawful right. 611:00,249[' ]| Kind hearted Ot**y, that$6#1$ does Garlands give 611:00,250[' ]| To$4$ beaten Seamen, while thyself dost greive 611:00,251[' ]| Languish and Pine and no$2$ man will$1$ allow 611:00,252[' ]| Nought; but a wreath of Hemp to$9$ adorn thy brow 611:00,253[' ]| Ah! but with bawdy Plays and Prologues lewd 611:00,254[' ]| Thou hast the art to$9$ please the multitude; 611:00,255[' ]| The claping rable that$6#1$ on$4$ your third days 611:00,256[' ]| Come to$9$ extol and clap your silly Plays, 611:00,257[' ]| Worse than a Sodoms Farce or Smithfield Droll, 611:00,258[' ]| Nothing so$5#1$ Beastly, Baudy, or so$5#1$ dull: 611:00,259[' ]| If Ignoramus Juries once be named 611:00,260[' ]| (That$6#2$ thredbare Subject on$4$ the Stage so$5#1$ famed) 611:00,261[' ]| It is tost about with Claps and praiseful knocks 611:00,262[' ]| Until it bound from Knaves in$4$ Pit, to$4$ Fools in$4$ Box. 611:00,263[' ]| Such stupid humours now the Gallants seize 611:00,264[' ]| Women and Boys may write and yet may please. 611:00,265[' ]| Poetess Afra though she is damned today 611:00,266[' ]| Tomorrow will$1$ put up$5$ another Play; 611:00,267[' ]| And Ot**y must be Pimp to$9$ set her off, 611:00,268[' ]| Lest the enraged Bully scoul and scoff, 611:00,269[' ]| And hiss, and laugh, and give not such applause 611:00,270[' ]| To$4$ the City-heresie as the good old Cause. 611:00,271[' ]| You are baulkt worse there than at a City Feast 611:00,272[' ]| To$9$ part with stolen half-Crown for$4$ ~~ no$2$ jest; 611:00,273[' ]| Sham treats you may have paid for$4$ over and over, 611:00,274[' ]| But whoever paid for$4$ a Sham-Play before? 611:00,275[' ]| Tories are just, and give the Devil his due, 611:00,276[' ]| Will$1$ not damn a Poets Play, because it is new, 611:00,277[' ]| Because it treats of Whiggs and tells fine stories 611:00,278[' ]| To$9$ please the monkey Courtiers little Tories 611:00,279[' ]| Tells how the Whiggs with might and force repair 611:00,280[' ]| To$9$ build damned stony Castles in$4$ the air 611:00,281[' ]| From whence the Court Hobgoblings they will$1$ slay 611:00,282[' ]| With Guns invented since full many a day; 611:00,283[' ]| How by$4$ their necromantick arts they raise 611:00,284[' ]| Fortyfied Cetadels in$4$ all by-ways, 611:00,285[' ]| Millions of Souldiers lodg in$4$ hives like$4$ Bees, 611:00,286[' ]| And many millions more in$4$ hollow trees, 611:00,287[' ]| Where for$4$ a fit occasion they do wait 611:00,288[' ]| To$9$ break the pocky Courtiers maggot-pate; 611:00,289[' ]| The Poet by$4$ such Tales gets coin for$4$ Writing 611:00,290[' ]| And makes the Coward Tory think of Fighting, 611:00,291[' ]| For$4$ fear of which$6#1$ he stoutly falls to$4$ shiting. 611:00,292[' ]| It is well for$4$ you, ye Poets of the Stage? 611:00,293[' ]| You live in$4$ so$5#1$ nonsensical an Age, 611:00,294[' ]| When every Pun is Termed a lucky hit, 611:00,295[' ]| The happy product of a Tories Wit; 611:00,296[' ]| Base awkward Age! accurst by$4$ Destiny 611:00,297[' ]| When wit does cease and Piety does dy, 611:00,298[' ]| Your Zeal is cold, your Frolicks all are mad, 611:00,299[' ]| Nay your Debauches sottishly as bad: 611:00,300[' ]| The former age, that$6#1$ vices all pursued, 611:00,301[' ]| Connived at Sins and wickedly ran lewd, 611:00,302[' ]| Though drowned in$4$ lewdness, and their Pastimes had 611:00,303[' ]| As much of Lust, they wittily were mad. 611:00,304[' ]| Did but Ben%*Johnson know how Follies rise 611:00,305[' ]| Swell and look big, how Poets do despise 611:00,306[' ]| The lawful charms of wit, and spend their days 611:00,307[' ]| In$4$ bawdy Prologues and licentious Plays, 611:00,308[' ]| He would bid adieu to$4$ the Elysian Field, 611:00,309[' ]| Gay with the splendour that$6#1$ the Muses yield, 611:00,310[' ]| And to$4$ the dusky world again repair, 611:00,311[' ]| To$9$ suck the thicker blasts of earthly air, 611:00,312[' ]| He would leave his softer Rhymes, and would dispense 611:00,313[' ]| A hoarser sound, he would Satirist commence 611:00,314[' ]| And try to$9$ lash the Ideots into Sence. 611:00,315[' ]| Such Vices now amongst the Poets Reign, 611:00,316[' ]| The very Fops do of their Faults complain: 611:00,317[' ]| Dead POETS Ashes in$4$ their Tombs do grieve, 611:00,318[' ]| And to$9$ rebuke their crimes do seem to$9$ live. 611:00,319[' ]| Spencers old bones about do toss and turn 611:00,320[' ]| With Indignation kicks his rusty Urn. 611:00,321[' ]| When great Cowly's Tomb the Ladies walk 611:00,322[' ]| And of the modern Poesie do talk, 611:00,323[' ]| His stately Urn doth bow its drooping Head, 611:00,324[' ]| And modest blushes ore the Marble spread, 611:00,325[' ]| As if ashamed of his Posterity, 611:00,326[' ]| A base, degenerate, sottish Progeny. 611:00,327[' ]| D**fey comes next in$4$ Verse ten thousand strong, 611:00,328[' ]| A Devillish Poet for$4$ a bawdy Song; 611:00,329[' ]| Begot when lecherous Planets ruled the skies, 611:00,330[' ]| And Madam Venus bright did tyranize: 611:00,331[' ]| When Civil Wars produced a monstrous Birth, 611:00,332[' ]| And dismal Discord triumphed ore the Earth; 611:00,333[' ]| For$3$ pray, what vice atchieved by$4$ Cains curst Stem, 611:00,334[' ]| Or deadly Sin, that$6#1$ is not found in$4$ him; 611:00,335[' ]| As Toads spue poyson he doth Libels vent, 611:00,336[' ]| Of Villany the very Excrement; 611:00,337[' ]| A brave Court mixture; for$3$ he is at once, 611:00,338[' ]| A Debauchee, Buffoon, a Knave, a Dunce, 611:00,339[' ]| Here hold my Muse! the Task is too hard for$4$ thee, 611:00,340[' ]| To$9$ bow so$5#1$ low, even below Infamy: 611:00,341[' ]| Thou never yet to$9$ write with dirt hadst skill, 611:00,342[' ]| Or from a Dunghill tookst a stinking quill; 611:00,343[' ]| Of three base silly Poets thou hast sung, 611:00,344[' ]| A minute on$4$ their borders is too long, 611:00,345[' ]| Retire unto thy pleasant former lays, 611:00,346[' ]| While these like$4$ peevish asps keep on$4$ their ways; 611:00,347[' ]| And briskly bear unto the Elysian Shades, 611:00,348[' ]| One Ounce of Brains in$4$ three great Loggerheads. 611:00,349[' ]| Desist I say! while some old Bard relate, 611:00,350[' ]| Their baser facts, and of their actions prate. 611:00,351[' ]| Let Fop the Courtier, Negroe paint the Moor, 611:00,352[' ]| The Fool, the Fidler, and the Bawd, the Whore. 611:00,353[' ]| Like$4$ Vice Reformers weary of the pain, 611:00,354[' ]| Of Lashing still and yet they lash in$4$ vain, 611:00,355[' ]| My Muse the Court will$1$ leave, contemn the Stage, 611:00,356[' ]| A long Farewell to$4$ so$5#1$ prophane an Age: 611:00,357[' ]| Debaucht to$4$ Lust, to$4$ Avarice and Pride, 611:00,358[' ]| Who$6#2$ would be condemned to$4$ Court or City Pews, 611:00,359[' ]| Be damned to$4$ nonsence and the stink of Stews; 611:00,360[' ]| To$9$ wait for$4$ Pensions who$6#2$ would take delight, 611:00,361[' ]| And be at last but a shamed Favourite, 611:00,362[' ]| Who$6#1$ would purchase Favour by$4$ perfidious Oaths, 611:00,363[' ]| Or pawn his Conscience for$4$ to$9$ buy him cloaths, 611:00,364[' ]| And when at brightest shine but like$4$ the light 611:00,365[' ]| Of Ignis*fatuus in$4$ a misty night, 611:00,366[' ]| Caught with the Glory of the spangled skies, 611:00,367[' ]| Starts up$5$ from earth and in$4$ a moment dies. 611:00,368[' ]| When oh immortal woods! Shall I be made 611:00,369[' ]| The Joyous Tenant of thy happy shade, 611:00,370[' ]| Where Envy and Ambition are kept down, 611:00,371[' ]| And harmless Innocence doth wear the Crown; 611:00,372[' ]| Where heads of sturdy Oakes do courtly bow, 611:00,373[' ]| And stooping Pines do make their Honours too; 611:00,374[' ]| Where gladsom Poets with the Muses sing, 611:00,375[' ]| While all the beauteous Nymphs daunce in$4$ a ring; 611:00,376[' ]| Where all alike enjoy the Rural sport, 611:00,377[' ]| Free from those painted Cares, that$6#1$ do attend a Court.