L

A VO TE.

EST the mis-judging world should chance to say,
I durft not but in fecret murmurs pray;
To whisper in Jove's ear ·

How much I wish that funeral,.

Or gape at fuch a great-one's fall;
This let all ages hear,

And future times in my foul's picture fee
What I abhor, what I defire to be

I would not be a Puritan, though he
Can preach 'two hours, and yet his fermon be
But half a quarter long ;

Though, from his old mechanic trade,..
By vifion he 's a pastor made,

His faith was grown fo ftrong:

Nay, though he think to gain falvation.
By calling th' Pope the Whore of Babylon.

I would not be a School-master, though he
His rods no less than Fafces deems to be;
Though he in many a place

Turns Lilly oftener than his gowns,
Till at the laft he make the nouns.

Fight with the verbs apace ;;

Nay, though he can, in a poetic heat,

Figures, born fince, out of poor Virgil beat.

I would

I would not be Juftice of peace, though he
Can with equality divide the fee,

And ftakes with his clerk draw
Nay, though he fits upon the place
Of judgment with a learned face.
Intricate as the law;

And, whilft he mules enormities demurely,
Breaks Prifcian's head with fentencés fecurely.

I would not be a Courtier, though he
Makes his whole life the trueft comedy;
Although he be a man

In whom the taylor's forming art,
And nimble barber, claim more part
Than Nature herself can ;

Though, as he ufes men, 'tis his intent
To put off death too with a compliment.

From Lawyers' tongues, though they can spin with eafe The shortest cause into a paraphrase ;

From Ufurers' confcience

(For swallowing up young heirs fo faft, Without all doubt, they 'll choak'd at last)

Make me all innocence,

Good Heaven! and from thy eyes, O Juftice! keeps For though they be not blind, they're oft afleep.

+

1

From

From Singing-mens' religion, who are

Always at church, juft like the crows, 'caufe there
They build themselves a neft:

From too much Poetry, which Thines
With gold in nothing but its lines,

Free, O you Powers! my breast.

And from Aftronomy, which in the skies
Finds fish and bulls, yet doth but tantalize.

From your Court-madams' beauty, which doth carry At morning May, at night a January:

From the grave city brow

(For though it want an R, it has

The letter of Pythagoras).

Keep me, Ó Fortune, now!

And chines of beef innumerable send me,
Or from the stomach of the guard defend me.

This only grant me, that my means may lie
Too low for envy, for contempt too high.
Some honour I would have,
Not from great deeds, but good alone;
Th' unknown are better than ill-known;

Rumour can ope the grave!

Acquaintance I would have; but when 't depends
Not from the number, but the choice, of friends.

Books

Books should, not business, entertain the light;
And fleep, as undisturb'd as death, the night.
My houfe a cottage more

Than palace; and fhould fitting be
For all my ufe, no luxury.

My garden painted o'er

With Nature's hand, not Art's; that pleafures yield Horace might envy in his Sabine field.

Thus would I double my life's fading space; :
For he that runs it well, twice runs his race.
And in this true delight,

Thefe unbought fports, and happy state,
I would not fear, nor wifh, my fate;
But boldly fay, each night,

Tó-morrow let my fun his beams difplay,
Or in clouds hide them I have liv'd to-day

A POETICAL REVENGE.

W

Estminster-hall a friend and I agreed

To meet in; he (fome bufinefs 'twas did breed

His abfence) came not there; I up did go

To the next court; for though I could not know Much what they meant, yet I might fee and hear (As most spectators do at theatre).

Things

*The three concluding stanzas of this poem are introduced by Mr. Cowley in his "Effays in Verse and Profe. N.

Things very strange: Fortune did feem to grace
My coming there, and helpt me to a place.
But, being newly fettled at the sport,
A femi-gentleman of the Inns of Court,
In a fatin fuit, redeem'd but yesterday;
One who is ravish'd with a cock-pit play;
Who prays God to deliver him from no evil
Besides a taylor's bill; and fears no devil
Besides a ferjeant, thrust me from my feat:
At which I 'gan to quarrel, till a neat
Man in a ruff (whom therefore I did take
For barrister) open'd his mouth and spake;
"Boy, get you gone, this is no fchool." "Oh no;
"For, if it were, all you gown'd-men would go
"Up for falfe Latin." They grew straight to be
Incens'd; I fear'd they would have brought on me
An action of trespass : till the young man
Aforefaid, in the fatin fuit, began

To strike me : doubtless there had been a fray,
Had not I providently skipp'd away
Without replying; for to fcold is ill,
Where every tongue's the clapper of a mill,
And can out-found Homer's Gradivus ; fo
Away got I: but ere I far did go,

I flung (the darts of wounding poetry)

These two or three sharp curses back: May he
Be by his father in his study took

At Shakespeare's plays, inftead of my lord Coke!
May he (though all his writings grow as foon
As Butter's out of estimation)