The Fifth Satyr Inscribd to The Reverend Dr. Busby
The Speakers Persius and Cornutus. PERS. OF ancient use to Poets it belongs, | |
| To wish themselves an hundred Mouths and Tongues: | |
| Whether to the well-lungd Tragedians Rage | |
| They recommend their Labours of the Stage, | |
| Or sing the Parthian, when transfixd he lies, | 5 |
| Wrenching the Roman Javelin from his thighs. | |
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CORN. And why woudst thou these mighty Morsels chuse, | |
| Of Words unchawd, and fit to choak the Muse? | |
| Let Fustian Poets with their Stuff be gone, | |
| And suck the Mists that hang ore Helicon: | 10 |
| When Prognes 1 or Thyestess 2 Feast they write; | |
| And, for the mouthing Actor, Verse indite. | |
| Thou neither, like a Bellows, swellst thy Face, | |
| As if thou wert to blow the burning Mass | |
| Of melting Ore; nor canst thou strain thy Throat, | 15 |
| Or murmur in an undistinguishd Note; | |
| Like rowling Thunder, till it breaks the Cloud, | |
| And rattling Nonsense is dischargd aloud. | |
| Soft Elocution does thy Stile renown, | |
| And the sweet Accents of the peaceful Gown: | 20 |
| Gentle or sharp, according to thy choice, | |
| To laugh at Follies, or to lash at Vice. | |
| Hence draw thy Theme, and to the Stage permit | |
| Raw-head and Bloody-Bones, and Hands and Feet, | |
| Ragousts for Tereus or Thyestes drest; | 25 |
| Tis Task enough for theet expose a Roman Feast. | |
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PERS. Tis not, indeed, my Talent to engage | |
| In lofty Trifles, or to swell my Page | |
| With Wind and Noise; but freely to impart, | |
| As to a Friend, the Secrets of my heart; | 30 |
| And, in familiar Speech, to let thee know | |
| How much I love thee, and how much I owe. | |
| Knock on my Heart: for thou hast skill to find | |
| If it sound solid, or be filld with Wind; | |
| And, thro the veil of words, thou viewst the naked Mind. | 35 |
| For this a hundred Voices I desire, | |
| To tell thee what an hundred Tongues woud tire; | |
| Yet never coud be worthily exprest, | |
| How deeply thou art seated in my Breast. | |
| When first my Childish Robe 3 resignd the charge; | 40 |
| And left me, unconfind, to live at large; | |
| When now my golden Bulla (hung on high | |
| To House-hold Gods) declard me past a Boy; | |
| And my white Shield 4 proclaimd my Liberty; | |
| When with my wild Companions, I could rowl | 45 |
| From Street to Street, and sin without controul; | |
| Just at that Age, when Manhood set me free, | |
| I then deposd my self, and left the Reins to thee. | |
| On thy wise Bosom I reposd my Head; | |
| And by my better Socrates 5 was bred. | 50 |
| Then, thy streight Rule set Virtue in my sight, | |
| The crooked Line reforming by the right. | |
| My Reason took the bent of thy Command, | |
| Was formd and polishd by thy skilful hand: | |
| Long Summer-days thy Precepts I reherse; | 55 |
| And Winter-nights were short in our converse: | |
| One was our Labour, one was our Repose; | |
| One frugal Supper did our Studies close. | |
| Sure on our Birth some friendly Planet shone: | |
| And, as our Souls, our Horoscope 6 was one | 60 |
| Whether the mounting Twins 7 did Heavn adorn, | |
| Or with the rising Ballance 8 we were born; | |
| Both have the same Impressions from above; | |
| And both have Saturns rage repelld by Jove. 9 | |
| What Star I know not, but some Star I find, | 65 |
| Has given Thee an Ascendant ore my Mind. | |
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CORN. Nature is ever various in her Frame: | |
| Each has a different Will; and few the same: | |
| The greedy Merchants, led by lucre, run | |
| To the parchd Indies, and the rising Sun; | 70 |
| From thence hot Pepper, and rich Drugs they bear, | |
| Bartring for Spices their Italian Ware: | |
| The lazy Glutton safe at home will keep, | |
| Indulge his Sloth, and batten with his Sleep: | |
| One bribes for high Preferments in the State; | 75 |
| A second shakes the Box, and sits up late | |
| Another shakes the Bed; dissolving there, | |
| Till knots upon his Gouty Joints appear, | |
| And Chalk is in his crippled Fingers found; | |
| Rots like a Doddard 10 Oke, and piecemeal falls to ground. | 80 |
| Then, his lewd Follies he woud late repent; | |
| And his past years, that in a Mist were spent. | |
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PERS. But thou art pale, in nightly Studies, grown, | |
| To make the Stoick 11 Institutes thy own; | |
| Thou long, with studious Care, hast tilld our Youth, | 85 |
| And sown our well-purgd Ears with wholesom Truth: | |
| From thee both old and young, with profit, learn | |
| The bounds of Good and Evil to discern. | |
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CORN. Unhappy he who does this Work ad-journ; | |
| And to To Morrow would the search delay: | 90 |
| His lazy Morrow will be like to day. | |
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PERS. But is one day of Ease too much to borrow? | |
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CORN. Yes, sure: For Yesterday was once To Morrow. | |
| That Yesterday is gone, and nothing gaind: | |
| And all thy fruitless days will thus be draind; | 95 |
| For thou hast more To Morrows yet to ask, | |
| And wilt be ever to begin thy Task; | |
| Who, like the hindmost Chariot Wheels, art curst; | |
| Still to be near; but nere to reach the first. | |
| O Freedom! first Delight of Humane Kind! | 100 |
| Not that which Bondmen from their Masters find, | |
| The Priviledge of Doles; 12 not yett inscribe | |
| Their Names in this or tother Roman Tribe: 13 | |
| That false Enfranchisement, with ease is found: | |
| Slaves are made Citizens, 14 by turning round. | 105 |
| How, replies one, can any be more free? | |
| Heres Dama, once a Groom of low degree | |
| Not worth a Farthing, and a Sot beside; | |
| So true a Rogue, for lyings sake he lyd: | |
| But, with a turn, a Freeman he became; | 110 |
| Now Marcus Dama 15 is his Worships Name: | |
| Good Gods! who woud refuse to lend a Sum, | |
| If Wealthy Marcus Surety will become! | |
| Marcus is made a Judge, and for a Proof | |
| Of certain Truth, He said it, is enough. | 115 |
| A Will is to be provd; put in your Claim; | |
| Tis clear, if Marcus has subscribd his Name. 16 | |
| This is true Liberty, 17 as I believe; | |
| What farther can we from our Caps receive, | |
| Than as we please, without Control to live? | 120 |
| Not more to Noble Brutus 18 could belong. | |
| Hold, says the Stoick, you Assumptions wrong: | |
| I grant true Freedom you have well defind: | |
| But living as you list, and to your mind, | |
| Are loosely tackd; and must be left behind. | 125 |
| What, since the Prætor did my Fetters loose, | |
| And left me freely at my own dispose, | |
| May I not live without Control or 19 Awe, | |
| Excepting still the Letter of the Law? 20 | |
| Hear me with patience, while thy Mind I free | 130 |
| From those fond Notions of false Liberty: | |
| Tis not the Prætors Province to bestow | |
| True Freedom; nor to teach Mankind to know | |
| What to our selves, or to our Friends we owe. | |
| He coud not set thee free from Cares and Strife; | 135 |
| Nor give the Reins to a lewd vicious life: | |
| As well he for an Ass a Harp might string, | |
| Which is against the Reason of the thing; | |
| For Reason still is whispring in your Ear, | |
| Where you are sure to fail, th Attempt forbear. | 140 |
| No need of Publick Sanctions this to bind, | |
| Which Nature has implanted in the Mind: | |
| Not to pursue th Work, to which were not designd. | |
| Unskilld in Hellebore, if thou shoudst try | |
| To mix it, and mistake the Quantity, | 145 |
| The Rules of Physick woud against thee cry. | |
| The High-shood Ploughman, shoud he quit the Land, | |
| To take the Pilots Rudder in his hand, | |
| Artless of Stars, and of the moving Sand, | |
| The Gods woud leave him to the Waves and Wind, | 150 |
| And think all Shame was lost in Human-Kind. | |
| Tell me, my Friend, from whence hadst thou the skill, | |
| So nicely to distinguish Good from Ill? | |
| Or by the sound to judge of Gold and Brass; | |
| What piece is Tinkers Metal, what will pass? | 155 |
| And what thou art to follow, what to flye, | |
| This to condemn, and that to ratifie? | |
| When to be Bountiful, and when to Spare, | |
| But never Craving, or oppressd with Care? | |
| The Baits of Gifts, and Money to despise, | 160 |
| And look on Wealth with undesiring Eyes? | |
| When thou canst truly call these Virtues thine, | |
| Be Wise and Free, by Heavns consent and mine. | |
| But thou, who lately of the common strain, | |
| Wert one of us, if still thou dost retain | 165 |
| The same ill Habits, the same Follies too, | |
| Glossd over only with a Saint-like show, | |
| Then I resume the freedom which I gave, | |
| Still thou art bound to Vice, and still a Slave. | |
| Thou canst not wag thy Finger, or begin | 170 |
| The least light motion, but it tends to sin. | |
| Hows this? Not wag my Finger, he replies? | |
| No, Friend; nor fuming Gums, nor Sacrifice, | |
| Can ever make a Madman free, or wise. | |
| Virtue and Vice 21 are never in one Soul: | 175 |
| A Man is wholly Wise, or wholly is a Fool. | |
| A heavy Bumpkin, taught with daily care, | |
| Can never dance three steps with a becoming air. | |
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PERS. In spight of this, my Freedom still remains. | |
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CORN. Free, what and fetterd with so many Chains? | 180 |
| Canst thou no other Master understand | |
| Than him that freed thee by the Prætors Wand? 22 | |
| Shoud he, who was thy Lord, command thee now, | |
| With a harsh Voice, and supercilious Brow, | |
| To servile Duties, thou woudst fear no more; | 185 |
| The Gallows and the Whip are out of door. | |
| But if thy Passions lord it in thy Breast, | |
| Art thou not still a Slave, and still opprest? | |
| Whether alone, or in thy Harlots Lap, | |
| When thou woudst take a lazy Mornings Nap; | 190 |
| Up, up, says Avarice; thou snorst again, | |
| Stretchest thy Limbs, and yawnst, but all in vain; | |
| The Tyrant Lucre no denyal takes; | |
| At his Command th unwilling Sluggard wakes. | |
| What must I do? he cries: What? says his Lord: | 195 |
| Why rise, make ready, and go streight aboord: | |
| With Fish, from Euxine Seas, thy Vessel freight; | |
| Flax, Castor, Coan Wines, the precious Weight | |
| Of Pepper, and Sabean Incense, take | |
| With thy own hands, from the tird Camels back: | 200 |
| And with Post-haste thy running Markets make. | |
| Be sure to turn the Penny: lye and swear; | |
| Tis wholesom sin: But Jove, thou sayst, will hear: | |
| Swear, Fool, or starve; for the Dilemmas even: | |
| A Tradesman thou! and hope to go to Heavn? | 205 |
| Resolvd for Sea, the Slaves thy Baggage pack, | |
| Each saddled, with his Burden on his back; | |
| Nothing retards thy Voyage, now; unless | |
| Thy other Lord forbids, Voluptuousness: | |
| And he may ask this civil Question: Friend, | 210 |
| What dost thou make a Shipboord? to what end? | |
| Art thou of Bethlems Noble College free? | |
| Stark, staring mad; that thou woudst tempt the Sea? | |
| Cubbd in a Cabin, on a Mattress laid, | |
| On a Brown George, with lowsie Swobbers, fed, | 215 |
| Dead Wine, that stinks of the Borrachio, sup | |
| From a foul Jack, or greasie Maple Cup? | |
| Say, woudst thou bear all this, to raise thy store | |
| From Six i th Hundred, to Six Hundred more? | |
| Indulge, and to thy Genius freely give; | 220 |
| For, not to live at ease, is not to live; | |
| Death stalks behind thee: and each flying Hour | |
| Does some loose Remnant of thy Life devour. | |
| Live, while thou livst: For Death will make us all | |
| A Name, a nothing but an Old Wifes Tale. | 225 |
| Speak; wilt thou Avarice, or Pleasure chuse | |
| To be thy Lord? Take one, and one refuse. | |
| But both, by turns, the Rule of thee will have; | |
| And thou, betwixt em both, wilt be a Slave. | |
| Nor think when once thou hast resisted one, | 230 |
| That all thy Marks of Servitude are gone: | |
| The strugling Greyhound gnaws his Leash in vain; | |
| If, when tis broken, still he drags the Chain. | |
| Says Phædria 23 to his Man, Believe me, Friend, | |
| To this uneasie Love Ile put an End: | 235 |
| Shall I run out of all? My Friends disgrace, | |
| And be the first lewd Unthrift of my Race? | |
| Shall I the Neighbours Nightly rest invade | |
| At her deaf Doors, with some vile Serenade? | |
| Well hast thou freed thy self, his Man replies; | 240 |
| Go, thank the Gods, and offer Sacrifice. | |
| Ah, says the Youth, if we unkindly part, | |
| Will not the Poor fond Creature break her Heart? | |
| Weak Soul! And blindly to Destruction led! | |
| She break her Heart! Shell sooner break your Head. | 245 |
| She knows her Man, and when you Rant and Swear, | |
| Can draw you to her with a single Hair. | |
| But shall I not return? Now, when she Sues? | |
| Shall I my own, and her Desires refuse? | |
| Sir, take your Course: But my Advice is plain: | 250 |
| Once freed, tis Madness to resume your Chain. | |
| Ay; theres the Man, who loosd from Lust and Pelf, | |
| Less to the Prætor owes, than to himself. | |
| But write him down a Slave, who, humbly proud, | |
| With Presents begs Preferments from the Crowd; | 255 |
| That early Suppliant, 24 who salutes the Tribes, | |
| And sets the Mob to scramble for his Bribes: | |
| That some old Dotard, sitting in the Sun, | |
| On Holydays may tell, that such a Feat was done: | |
| In future times this will be counted rare. | 260 |
| Thy Superstition too may claim a share: | |
| When Flowrs are strewd, and Lamps in order placd, | |
| And Windows with Illuminations gracd, | |
| On Herods 25 Day; when sparkling Bouls go round, | |
| And Tunnys Tails in savoury Sauce are drownd, | 265 |
| Thou mutterst Prayers obscene; nor dost refuse | |
| The Fasts and Sabbaths of the curtaild Jews. | |
| Then a crackd Eggshell 26 thy sick Fancy frights, | |
| Besides the Childish Fear of Walking Sprights. | |
| Of oregrown Guelding Priests thou art afraid: | 270 |
| The Timbrel, and the Squintifego Maid | |
| Of Isis, awe thee: lest the Gods, for sin, | |
| Shoud, with a swelling Dropsie, stuff thy skin: | |
| Unless three Garlick Heads the Curse avert, | |
| Eaten each Morn, devoutly, next thy heart. | 275 |
| Preach this among the brawny Guards, sayst thou, | |
| And see if they thy Doctrine will allow: | |
| The dull fat Captain, with a Hounds deep throat, | |
| Woud bellow out a Laugh, in a Base Note; | |
| And prize a hundred Zenos just as much | 280 |
As a clipt Sixpence, or a Schilling Dutch.
The End of the Fifth Satyr. | |