







 
   
     
       
         Characters of vertue and vice described in the persons of the wise-man, the valiant man ... attempted in verse from a treatise of the reverend Joseph Hall, late lord bishop of Exeter / by N. Tate.
         Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.
      
       
         
           1691
        
      
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         11953770
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         51485
         
           
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             Characters of vertue and vice described in the persons of the wise-man, the valiant man ... attempted in verse from a treatise of the reverend Joseph Hall, late lord bishop of Exeter / by N. Tate.
             Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.
             Hall, Joseph, 1574-1656. Characters of vertues and vices.
          
           [4], 32 p.
           
             Printed for Francis Saunders ...,
             London :
             1691.
          
           
             Reproduction of original in Duke University Library.
             Bishop Hall's "Characters of vertues and vices" was published in 1608. Tate here paraphrases 10 of Hall's 26 "characters".
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Characters and characteristics.
           Virtue -- Early works to 1800.
           Vice -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           CHARACTERS
           OF
           VERTUE
           and
           VICE
           .
        
         
           Describ'd
           in
           the
           Persons
           of
           The
           Wise-Man
           ,
           The
           Valiant
           Man
           ,
           The
           truly
           Noble
           ,
           The
           Patient
           Man
           ,
           The
           true
           Friend
           ,
           The
           Hypocrite
           ,
           The
           Superstitious
           ,
           The
           Profane
           ,
           The
           Busy-Body
           ,
           The
           Envious
           .
        
         
           Attempted
           in
           Verse
           FROM
           A
           TREATISE
           OF
           THE
           Reverend
           
             IOSEPH
             HALL
          
           ,
           Late
           Lord
           Bishop
           of
           Exeter
           .
        
         
           By
           
             N.
             TATE
          
           .
        
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           for
           
             Francis
             Saunders
          
           ,
           at
           the
           Blue-Anchor
           ,
           in
           the
           Lower
           Walk
           of
           the
           New-Exchange
           ,
           1691.
           
        
      
       
         
         
         
           PREFACE
           .
        
         
           THE
           Representing
           of
           Vertue
           and
           Vice
           in
           their
           respective
           Beauties
           and
           Deformities
           ,
           is
           the
           genuine
           Task
           of
           Poetry
           :
           the
           true
           and
           proper
           Themes
           of
           Panegyrick
           and
           Satyr
           .
           The
           giving
           Precepts
           of
           Morality
           was
           originally
           the
           Employment
           of
           the
           Muses
           ,
           and
           establish'd
           their
           first
           Reputation
           .
           Few
           Poets
           have
           excell'd
           who
           merited
           not
           the
           Character
           ascrib'd
           by
           Horace
           to
           Homer
           :
           
             
               Qui
               quid
               sit
               pulchrum
               ,
               quid
               turpe
               ,
               quid
               utile
               ,
               quid
               non
               ,
            
             
               Pleniùs
               ac
               meliùs
               Chrysippo
               &
               Crantore
               dicit
               .
            
          
        
         
           It
           was
           for
           useful
           Prescriptions
           of
           Politie
           and
           Private
           Life
           ,
           that
           Orpheus
           and
           Amphion
           were
           celebrated
           ,
           and
           the
           Faculty
           it self
           reputed
           Sacred
           :
           
             
               Sic
               Honor
               &
               Nomen
               divinis
               Vatibus
               atque
            
             
               Carminibus
               venit
               .
            
          
        
         
         
           If
           the
           
           Virgil's
           and
           
           Horace's
           of
           our
           Age
           could
           have
           been
           prevail'd
           with
           to
           have
           Adorn'd
           the
           following
           Subjects
           ,
           it
           had
           sav'd
           my
           imperfect
           Performance
           .
           But
           I
           could
           not
           refuse
           the
           Temptation
           ,
           when
           it
           was
           propos'd
           to
           me
           to
           proceed
           upon
           the
           Hints
           and
           Groundwork
           of
           a
           Treatise
           Written
           by
           the
           Ingenious
           and
           Learned
           
             D
             r
             Hall
          
           ,
           Bishop
           of
           Exeter
           ;
           by
           which
           means
           my
           Reader
           would
           be
           secure
           of
           good
           Sense
           in
           the
           Version
           .
           If
           I
           have
           added
           no
           Grains
           ,
           I
           hope
           that
           ,
           at
           least
           ,
           I
           have
           lost
           nothing
           of
           the
           Oar
           in
           Melting
           it
           down
           .
        
         
           The
           Character
           of
           some
           Vices
           will
           naturally
           run
           into
           Humour
           ,
           requiring
           Instances
           and
           Expressions
           that
           are
           Familiar
           ,
           and
           
             Sermoni
             propiora
          
           .
           In
           a
           word
           ,
           I
           am
           sufficiently
           sensible
           of
           my
           Imperfections
           in
           this
           Essay
           ,
           but
           Comfort
           my self
           with
           the
           Hopes
           that
           abler
           Performers
           may
           be
           incited
           ,
           in
           
             meer
             Compassion
          
           ,
           to
           Rescue
           such
           worthy
           Subjects
           from
           so
           ill
           Hands
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           THE
           MAN
           of
           WISDOM
           .
        
         
           THE
           Man
           that
           's
           Wise
           to
           Know
           All
           Things
           aspires
           ,
        
         
           But
           First
           the
           Knowledge
           of
           Himself
           desires
           :
        
         
           How
           far
           the
           Compass
           of
           his
           Strength
           can
           go
           ;
        
         
           But
           his
           own
           Weakness
           studdies
           most
           to
           know
           .
        
         
           He
           Reasons
           more
           by
           Practice
           than
           by
           Rule
           ;
        
         
           His
           Logick's
           learnt
           in
           Observation
           's
           School
           .
        
         
           Taught
           by
           Experience
           truly
           to
           reflect
           ,
        
         
           Can
           First
           Himself
           and
           then
           his
           Friends
           direct
           .
        
         
           He
           ne'er
           suspends
           but
           in
           a
           doubtful
           Case
           ;
        
         
           Ne'er
           doubts
           where
           Resolution
           should
           take
           place
           .
        
         
           Of
           ev'ry
           needful
           Thing
           just
           Care
           do's
           take
           ,
        
         
           But
           most
           concern'd
           for
           his
           immortal
           stake
           .
        
         
           Without
           that
           scope
           counts
           fruitless
           each
           endeavour
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           would
           be
           Happy
           Once
           ,
           if
           not
           for
           ever
           .
        
         
         
           Himself
           best
           Knowing
           best
           Himself
           can
           Trust
           ,
        
         
           Others
           so
           far
           as
           He
           has
           prov'd
           them
           Just.
        
         
           The
           World
           may
           Him
           deceive
           but
           ne'er
           Abuse
           ,
        
         
           Who
           Trusts
           no
           more
           than
           He
           can
           bear
           to
           lose
           .
        
         
           While
           close
           Retirement
           is
           to
           Him
           a
           Skreen
           ,
        
         
           Himself
           looks
           through
           and
           sees
           the
           World
           ,
           Unseen
           :
        
         
           Yet
           shews
           ,
           when
           forc'd
           the
           Day-light
           to
           abide
           ,
        
         
           Prudence
           ,
           not
           Affectation
           ,
           made
           him
           hide
           .
        
         
           Does
           never
           ,
           Causeless
           ,
           from
           his
           purpose
           Range
           ,
        
         
           When
           Reason
           calls
           ,
           He
           never
           fears
           to
           Change.
        
         
           While
           th'
           ablest
           Master
           He
           's
           allow'd
           to
           be
           ,
        
         
           No
           Scholar
           more
           dispos'd
           to
           learn
           than
           He.
        
         
           From
           ev'ry
           Thing
           Instruction
           He
           can
           draw
           ,
        
         
           And
           from
           Him
           each
           Instruction
           is
           a
           Law.
        
         
           To
           Ages
           past
           his
           nimble
           Thoughts
           can
           Climb
           ,
        
         
           In
           Things
           to
           come
           prevent
           the
           speed
           of
           Time.
        
         
           Unborn
           Events
           by
           past
           Events
           forestall
           ,
        
         
           And
           in
           Conjecture
           be
           Prophetical
           .
        
         
           His
           Passions
           He
           ne'er
           suffers
           to
           Rebel
           ,
        
         
           Or
           hastens
           their
           first
           Mutiny
           to
           Quell
           .
        
         
           By
           Honour's
           Light
           in
           all
           his
           Projects
           sails
           ,
        
         
           And
           Boards
           a
           second
           when
           a
           former
           fails
           .
        
         
         
           Makes
           Disappointment
           but
           improve
           his
           skill
           ,
        
         
           And
           fetches
           Strength
           from
           what
           succeeded
           ill
           .
        
         
           Some
           Wrongs
           He
           sees
           not
           but
           with
           silent
           Art
           ,
        
         
           Dissembles
           Wounds
           too
           pow'rful
           Foes
           impart
           .
        
         
           Loves
           to
           owe
           less
           in
           good
           turns
           than
           He
           may
           ,
        
         
           For
           Bad
           wou'd
           be
           in
           Debt
           and
           never
           pay
           .
        
         
           Censures
           ,
           Unjust
           or
           Just
           ,
           alike
           to
           Him
           ;
        
         
           Those
           He
           Deserves
           not
           ,
           These
           he
           can
           Contemn
           .
        
         
           Slights
           Scandal
           ,
           lays
           no
           violent
           Hands
           on
           Blame
           ,
        
         
           Gives
           Slander
           scope
           till
           it
           expire
           with
           Shame
           .
        
         
           His
           Joy
           no
           Fears
           ,
           his
           Hope
           knows
           no
           Despairs
           ,
        
         
           Safe
           in
           the
           Circle
           of
           his
           own
           Affairs
           .
        
         
           From
           others
           strife
           he
           timely
           do's
           Retire
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           thrusts
           his
           Hand
           into
           a
           needless
           Fire
           .
        
         
           He
           best
           the
           Purchase
           of
           his
           Wit
           can
           tell
           ,
        
         
           And
           how
           to
           Value
           ,
           Keep
           and
           Use
           it
           well
           .
        
         
           Himself
           his
           own
           best
           Lawyer
           ,
           and
           his
           skill
           ,
        
         
           His
           readiest
           and
           most
           faithful
           Oracle
           .
        
         
           Consulted
           ,
           He
           's
           in
           no
           Man's
           Business
           Blind
           ,
        
         
           But
           in
           his
           Own
           of
           more
           than
           Eagle-kind
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           VALIANT
           MAN.
           
        
         
           BOld
           without
           Rashness
           ,
           without
           Fury
           ,
           Warm
           :
        
         
           He
           long
           Consults
           ,
           but
           do's
           with
           speed
           perform
           .
        
         
           He
           seeks
           not
           Dangers
           :
           when
           on
           Him
           they
           press
           ,
        
         
           He
           bears
           'em
           down
           with
           Courage
           and
           Success
           .
        
         
           Arm'd
           Death
           Enthron'd
           on
           Slaughter
           He
           can
           spy
           ,
        
         
           March
           on
           ,
           and
           with
           a
           scornful
           smile
           pass
           by
           .
        
         
           Forecasts
           the
           worst
           Events
           ,
           and
           in
           his
           Thought
           ,
        
         
           Before
           one
           stroke
           Exchang'd
           ,
           the
           Battle
           's
           fought
           .
        
         
           If
           unexpected
           Ills
           his
           Heart
           surprize
           ,
        
         
           One
           Minute
           to
           disperse
           'em
           will
           suffice
           :
        
         
           With
           instant
           Sally
           he
           prevents
           the
           Blow
           ,
        
         
           And
           turns
           Amazement
           back
           upon
           the
           Foe
           .
        
         
           Ne'er
           seen
           to
           fly
           ,
           but
           from
           some
           foul
           Offence
           ,
        
         
           And
           fears
           no
           Strength
           below
           Omnipotence
           .
        
         
           Peace
           he
           wou'd
           chuse
           ,
           and
           when
           the
           Sword
           he
           draws
           ,
        
         
           He
           looks
           not
           on
           his
           Hand
           but
           on
           his
           Cause
           .
        
         
         
           Nor
           weighs
           what
           Succors
           wait
           to
           take
           his
           Part
           ,
        
         
           How
           strong
           his
           Arm
           ,
           but
           Innocent
           his
           Heart
           .
        
         
           O'erpower'd
           may
           fall
           ,
           with
           numbers
           Vanquisht
           be
           ,
        
         
           And
           leave
           the
           Foe
           to
           Blush
           at
           Victory
           .
        
         
           Call'd
           out
           by
           Honour
           to
           some
           bold
           Attacque
           ,
        
         
           His
           Hearts
           Blood
           may
           be
           seen
           ,
           but
           ne'er
           his
           Back
           .
        
         
           On
           base
           Conditions
           he
           disdains
           to
           Live
           ,
        
         
           And
           what
           he
           asks
           ,
           would
           to
           the
           Vanquish'd
           give
           .
        
         
           Ne'er
           known
           the
           Blood
           of
           Innocents
           to
           shed
           ,
        
         
           On
           Carcases
           ,
           or
           suppliant
           Foes
           to
           tread
           ;
        
         
           He
           'll
           rather
           stifle
           Wrongs
           he
           might
           Resent
           ,
        
         
           Than
           take
           Revenge
           upon
           the
           Impotent
           .
        
         
           Nor
           can
           determine
           which
           he
           'd
           rather
           be
           ,
        
         
           Of
           Cowardice
           impeach'd
           ,
           or
           Cruelty
           .
        
         
           His
           sparing
           Words
           no
           room
           for
           Boast
           affords
           ,
        
         
           His
           readiest
           Language
           is
           ,
           his
           Hand
           and
           Sword.
        
         
           By
           Action
           heard
           ,
           whose
           never-ceasing
           Force
           ,
        
         
           Keeps
           every
           Talker
           furnish'd
           with
           Discourse
           .
        
         
           Not
           idlely
           Prodigal
           of
           Life
           or
           Blood
           ,
        
         
           But
           sparing
           neither
           for
           his
           Countrey
           's
           good
           .
        
         
         
           While
           Fate
           does
           noble
           Means
           of
           Life
           supply
           ,
        
         
           He
           Lives
           ;
           but
           those
           refus'd
           ,
           can
           bravely
           Dye
           .
        
         
           His
           Pow'r
           (
           to
           which
           his
           Reason
           still
           gives
           Laws
           ,
           )
        
         
           It
           's
           Right
           Confest
           ,
           the
           Exercise
           withdraws
           .
        
         
           Thinks
           he
           does
           then
           the
           greatest
           Triumph
           gain
           ,
        
         
           When
           He
           can
           Hurt
           ,
           yet
           from
           Revenge
           abstain
           .
        
         
           Without
           Servility
           He
           can
           Obey
           ,
        
         
           And
           in
           Command
           no
           Tyranny
           Display
           .
        
         
           He
           Courts
           not
           Fortune's
           Smiles
           ,
           nor
           fears
           her
           Hate
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           can
           she
           change
           his
           Mind
           with
           his
           Estate
           .
        
         
           That
           his
           high
           Spirit
           still
           o'erlooks
           Mischance
           ,
        
         
           Springs
           not
           from
           Senselesness
           nor
           Ignorance
           ;
        
         
           But
           th'
           utmost
           Pow'r
           of
           Fate
           computing
           first
           ,
        
         
           He
           knows
           her
           strength
           ,
           and
           bids
           her
           do
           her
           worst
           .
        
         
           In
           Purpose
           Cool
           ,
           in
           Resolution
           Fir'd
           ,
        
         
           In
           Enterprizes
           ,
           Daring
           and
           Untir'd
           ;
        
         
           Glorious
           ,
           though
           not
           successful
           in
           Design
           ,
        
         
           And
           when
           o'ercome
           ,
           His
           Heart
           does
           last
           Resign
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           TRULY
           NOBLE
           .
        
         
           ADvantages
           of
           Ancestry
           and
           Birth
           ,
        
         
           He
           counts
           but
           Fortune's
           Gift
           ,
           and
           borrow'd
           Worth
           :
        
         
           What
           he
           atchieves
           he
           only
           calls
           Renown
           ,
        
         
           And
           Honour
           purchas'd
           by
           Himself
           ,
           his
           Own.
        
         
           If
           short
           his
           Glory's
           Estimate
           be
           found
        
         
           Of
           what
           his
           noble
           Ancestors
           had
           Crown'd
           ,
        
         
           The
           bright
           Inheritance
           but
           proves
           his
           Shame
           ;
        
         
           Not
           Rais'd
           ,
           but
           Burthen'd
           by
           Descended
           Fame
           .
        
         
           No
           Greatness
           makes
           him
           Scorn
           or
           Pride
           express
           ,
        
         
           Still
           Higher
           rais'd
           he
           still
           wou'd
           seem
           the
           less
           .
        
         
           Life
           from
           his
           Soul
           as
           soon
           divorc'd
           may
           be
           ,
        
         
           As
           from
           his
           Manners
           Native
           Courtesy
           :
        
         
           Which
           for
           no
           servile
           or
           ambitious
           end
        
         
           Of
           popular
           Applause
           he
           does
           extend
           ,
        
         
           But
           from
           the
           genuine
           Sweetness
           of
           his
           Frame
           ,
        
         
           And
           noble
           Justice
           to
           Himself
           and
           Fame
           .
        
         
         
           His
           Hand
           is
           open
           ,
           yet
           his
           Glory
           still
        
         
           Is
           govern'd
           by
           his
           Fortune
           not
           his
           Will.
        
         
           And
           wisely
           bounteous
           can
           distinguish
           right
           ,
        
         
           Betwixt
           a
           Friend
           and
           fawning
           Parasite
           .
        
         
           Most
           Men
           their
           Favours
           sell
           ,
           exchange
           ,
           or
           lend
           ,
        
         
           He
           only
           does
           his
           Kindnesses
           expend
           .
        
         
           He
           wou'd
           no
           Licence
           from
           his
           Greatness
           gain
           ,
        
         
           And
           without
           Goodness
           counts
           his
           Titles
           vain
           .
        
         
           From
           Pow'r
           no
           Priv'lege
           claims
           to
           be
           Unjust
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           makes
           Prerogative
           a
           Bawd
           to
           Lust
           ;
        
         
           Conscience
           and
           Honour
           both
           his
           Actions
           bind
           ,
        
         
           By
           Eminence
           to
           stricter
           Laws
           confin'd
           .
        
         
           Each
           Vertue
           has
           it's
           Ornament
           and
           Use
        
         
           In
           his
           just
           Notion
           ,
           and
           no
           Vice
           Excuse
           .
        
         
           He
           no
           Man
           Guilty
           makes
           to
           make
           him
           Great
           ,
        
         
           And
           ev'n
           his
           Creatures
           with
           Respect
           can
           treat
           .
        
         
           Oblige
           ,
           yet
           not
           on
           Liberty
           intrude
           ,
        
         
           Or
           turn
           Dependance
           into
           Servitude
           .
        
         
           He
           seeks
           no
           forg'd
           Pretence
           ,
           without
           Reward
        
         
           An
           old
           and
           worn-out
           Servant
           to
           Discard
           :
        
         
         
           Their
           Duty
           ,
           Faith
           ,
           and
           Diligence
           to
           bind
        
         
           The
           Sweetness
           of
           his
           Service
           makes
           'em
           find
           .
        
         
           For
           Him
           ,
           no
           Vassals
           can
           their
           Toil
           repent
           ,
        
         
           Their
           Industry's
           not
           Lost
           ,
           but
           only
           Lent.
        
         
           The
           Difference
           'twixt
           his
           Wealth
           and
           Honour
           ,
           is
           ,
        
         
           That
           ,
           in
           Receiving
           stands
           ,
           in
           Giving
           ,
           This.
        
         
           He
           'll
           be
           oblig'd
           to
           Few
           ;
           but
           does
           not
           care
        
         
           How
           large
           the
           Number
           that
           his
           Favours
           share
           .
        
         
           Asks
           who
           wants
           most
           ,
           not
           who
           can
           best
           Repay
           ;
        
         
           And
           ne'er
           Repines
           at
           Favours
           cast
           away
           .
        
         
           Can
           Constancy
           in
           all
           Estates
           express
           ,
        
         
           Himself
           a-like
           to
           Peace
           and
           War
           address
           .
        
         
           Then
           ,
           most
           his
           Countreys
           Servant
           he
           is
           found
           ,
        
         
           When
           she
           to
           his
           Command
           has
           set
           no
           bound
           .
        
         
           More
           pleas'd
           true
           Worship
           to
           his
           God
           to
           give
           ,
        
         
           Than
           civil
           Honours
           from
           Mankind
           receive
           .
        
         
           For
           Fame
           ,
           relies
           not
           on
           the
           World's
           Applause
           ,
        
         
           But
           what
           from
           Heav'n
           it
           's
           Approbation
           draws
           .
        
         
           Of
           true
           Nobility
           conceives
           this
           Sense
           ,
        
         
           The
           Blood
           its
           Body
           only
           to
           dispense
           ;
        
         
           The
           Soul
           derives
           from
           Vertue
           's
           Eminence
           .
        
         
         
           Descended
           Honours
           He
           reputes
           to
           cease
           ,
        
         
           Unless
           his
           nobler
           Deeds
           the
           Tale
           encrease
           ,
        
         
           That
           Glory
           does
           admit
           no
           Careless
           Heir
           ,
        
         
           And
           not
           t'
           improve
           the
           Stock
           is
           to
           Impair
           .
        
      
       
         
           THE
           PATIENT
           MAN.
           
        
         
           THE
           Patient
           Man
           has
           so
           much
           strength
           attain'd
           ,
        
         
           And
           o'er
           Himself
           so
           large
           a
           Conquest
           gain'd
           ,
        
         
           That
           safe
           from
           Foreign
           Wrongs
           he
           does
           remain
           ;
        
         
           They
           came
           too
           late
           to
           Conquer
           him
           again
           .
        
         
           Boldly
           to
           Suffer
           ,
           is
           his
           Valour
           's
           Test
           ,
        
         
           He
           's
           most
           Victorious
           when
           He
           's
           most
           opprest
           .
        
         
           While
           under
           Mountain-Loads
           himself
           he
           rears
           ,
        
         
           Of
           more
           than
           humane
           Courage
           he
           appears
           ,
        
         
           And
           is
           ,
           if
           rightly
           we
           his
           Sufferings
           scan
           ,
        
         
           'Bove
           Nature
           rais'd
           while
           He
           seems
           less
           than
           Man.
        
         
           His
           Love
           and
           Charity
           are
           ever
           bent
        
         
           To
           construe
           all
           things
           with
           a
           fair
           Intent
           .
        
         
         
           To
           small
           and
           doubtful
           Injuries
           He
           's
           blind
           ,
        
         
           Gross
           Wrongs
           he
           'll
           think
           not
           done
           ,
           or
           not
           design'd
           ;
        
         
           Not
           meant
           ,
           or
           not
           to
           Him
           ;
           if
           Both
           appear
           ,
        
         
           From
           Malice
           still
           his
           Injuries
           He
           'll
           clear
           ;
        
         
           He
           'll
           say
           Mis-information
           caus'd
           th'
           offence
           ,
        
         
           And
           when
           it
           cannot
           bear
           so
           mild
           a
           sense
           ,
        
         
           Call
           't
           Rash
           ,
           and
           with
           the
           hasty
           Fault
           dispense
           .
        
         
           Patient
           he
           is
           ,
           but
           yet
           not
           tame
           or
           base
           :
        
         
           He
           wants
           not
           Courage
           but
           abounds
           in
           Grace
           .
        
         
           To
           take
           Revenge
           for
           Harms
           ,
           as
           Man
           He
           dares
           ;
        
         
           Resents
           as
           Man
           ,
           but
           as
           a
           Christian
           spares
           .
        
         
           He
           's
           God's
           best
           Witness
           ,
           and
           before
           the
           Bar
        
         
           For
           Truths
           fair
           sake
           ,
           undaunted
           can
           appear
           ;
        
         
           Hear
           unconcern'd
           the
           false
           Accuser's
           Voice
           ,
        
         
           Receive
           ,
           and
           in
           his
           Unjust
           doom
           Rejoice
           .
        
         
           A
           Prison
           is
           his
           Palace
           ,
           and
           to
           Him
        
         
           Pages
           of
           Honour
           all
           his
           Jaylors
           seem
           ,
        
         
           The
           Dungeon
           his
           Retiring
           Room
           he
           counts
           ,
        
         
           And
           to
           the
           Rack
           as
           to
           a
           Throne
           He
           mounts
           ;
        
         
           His
           Torturers
           worst
           Cruelty
           disdains
           ,
        
         
           Suffers
           his
           Own
           ,
           and
           baffles
           all
           their
           Pains
           .
        
         
         
           Just
           Pity
           the
           Beholders
           does
           inspire
           ,
        
         
           Unpitying
           and
           remorseless
           Foes
           ,
           Admire
           .
        
         
           His
           Hopes
           to
           no
           Discouragements
           can
           yield
           ,
        
         
           They
           still
           advance
           ,
           or
           keep
           at
           least
           the
           Field
           .
        
         
           Where
           once
           the
           Path
           of
           Kindness
           He
           has
           trod
           ,
        
         
           No
           Obstacles
           can
           make
           him
           quit
           the
           Road.
        
         
           If
           no
           Impression
           his
           first
           Favours
           make
           ,
        
         
           He
           still
           redoubles
           till
           he
           wins
           the
           stake
           .
        
         
           Can
           after
           Shipwrack
           try
           the
           Sea
           ,
           and
           beat
        
         
           At
           the
           deaf
           door
           he
           ne'er
           saw
           open'd
           yet
           .
        
         
           Different
           Events
           alike
           to
           Him
           befal
           ,
        
         
           He
           sees
           the
           Hand
           of
           Providence
           in
           All.
        
         
           When
           that
           Protects
           ,
           he
           pays
           his
           grateful
           Vows
           ,
        
         
           And
           when
           it
           strikes
           ,
           to
           just
           Correction
           Bows
           .
        
         
           Can
           Vertue
           from
           Necessity
           produce
           ,
        
         
           And
           with
           strange
           ,
           Art
           put
           Evil
           to
           good
           Use.
        
         
           In
           Conquest
           does
           beyond
           the
           Warriour
           go
           ,
        
         
           The
           surest
           Friend
           ,
           the
           latest
           easiest
           Foe
           :
        
         
           Than
           others
           so
           much
           Happier
           does
           appear
           ,
        
         
           As
           He
           can
           more
           and
           worse
           Mis-fortunes
           bear
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           TRUE
           FRIEND
           .
        
         
           UNited
           ,
           yet
           divided
           is
           his
           Breast
           ;
        
         
           Half
           by
           Himself
           ,
           All
           by
           his
           Friend
           possest
           .
        
         
           His
           Choice
           by
           Sympathy
           of
           Souls
           is
           bred
           ,
        
         
           By
           Worth
           and
           Vertue
           ,
           not
           by
           Int'rest
           led
           .
        
         
           He
           pays
           Affection
           'cause
           the
           Debt
           is
           just
           ,
        
         
           And
           Loves
           because
           he
           ought
           ,
           because
           he
           must
           .
        
         
           Contracts
           with
           Caution
           ,
           and
           considers
           long
           ,
        
         
           But
           once
           Agreed
           ,
           no
           Bargain
           is
           more
           strong
           .
        
         
           He
           chuses
           so
           as
           He
           may
           ne'er
           complain
           ,
        
         
           Like
           one
           that
           never
           meant
           to
           chuse
           again
           .
        
         
           And
           e'er
           his
           Love
           can
           vary
           one
           Degree
           ,
        
         
           His
           Friend
           Quite
           alter'd
           from
           Himself
           must
           be
           :
        
         
           Let
           just
           occasion
           his
           submission
           move
           ,
        
         
           A
           Servant
           to
           his
           Equal
           He
           can
           prove
           .
        
         
           To
           serve
           Him
           condescends
           with
           greater
           joy
           ,
        
         
           Than
           his
           Inferiour's
           Service
           to
           employ
           .
        
         
         
           Advanc'd
           to
           Pow'r
           his
           Friendship
           still
           is
           found
        
         
           In
           it's
           old
           Garb
           ,
           familiar
           ,
           plain
           ,
           and
           sound
           .
        
         
           For
           his
           Friend's
           sake
           with
           Honours
           he
           complies
           ,
        
         
           Yields
           to
           be
           Great
           to
           help
           his
           Friend
           to
           Rise
           .
        
         
           His
           Friend
           expir'd
           ,
           His
           Self
           's
           but
           half
           alive
           ,
        
         
           His
           Friendship
           only
           do's
           his
           Friend
           survive
           .
        
         
           Death
           to
           his
           Love
           no
           Dissolution
           brings
           ,
        
         
           It
           but
           divides
           the
           Stream
           to
           sundry
           Springs
           .
        
         
           For
           now
           the
           tender
           Orphans
           ,
           left
           too
           young
        
         
           To
           know
           their
           Father's
           Worth
           ,
           to
           Him
           belong
           ;
        
         
           Adopted
           His
           ,
           the
           Burden
           of
           his
           Cares
           ,
        
         
           His
           Heart
           's
           near
           Kin
           ,
           and
           his
           Affections
           Heirs
           .
        
         
           He
           's
           so
           much
           stricter
           ,
           and
           more
           nicely
           just
           ,
        
         
           For
           having
           lost
           the
           Witness
           of
           his
           Trust.
        
         
           Where
           Honesty
           or
           Nature
           can
           comply
           ,
        
         
           He
           grants
           a
           frank
           and
           full
           Community
           .
        
         
           To
           Friendship
           's
           Entrance
           leaves
           an
           open
           Field
        
         
           Without
           Reserves
           ,
           but
           what
           were
           Sin
           to
           yield
           .
        
         
           No
           longer
           can
           enjoy
           that
           thing
           whose
           use
        
         
           He
           thinks
           would
           more
           to
           his
           Friend
           's
           Good
           conduce
           .
        
         
         
           His
           Charity
           does
           still
           a
           Cloak
           provide
        
         
           Of
           Secrecy
           ,
           his
           Friend's
           Defects
           to
           hide
           .
        
         
           Much
           by
           Concealment
           from
           the
           Publick
           View
           ,
        
         
           By
           close
           Reproof
           more
           proves
           his
           Friendship
           true
           .
        
         
           And
           when
           the
           watchful
           Kindness
           of
           his
           Friend
        
         
           Finds
           just
           occasion
           him
           to
           reprehend
           ,
        
         
           He
           thanks
           his
           frank
           Chastiser
           on
           that
           score
           ,
        
         
           More
           loves
           him
           as
           he
           makes
           him
           smart
           the
           more
           .
        
         
           To
           Him
           as
           to
           the
           Closet
           of
           his
           Cares
           ,
        
         
           With
           Doubts
           ,
           Complaints
           ,
           his
           wellcome
           Friend
           repairs
           ;
        
         
           Unburdens
           there
           the
           secrets
           of
           his
           Mind
           ,
        
         
           Leaves
           all
           lock'd
           up
           ,
           and
           as
           he
           leaves
           may
           find
           .
        
         
           Let
           grief
           at
           once
           his
           Friend
           and
           him
           surround
           ,
        
         
           His
           sense
           still
           quickest
           for
           his
           Friend
           is
           found
           ;
        
         
           Bleeds
           in
           his
           own
           ,
           but
           smarts
           in
           his
           Friend's
           Wound
           .
        
         
           No
           Hour's
           unseasonable
           ,
           no
           Pains
           displease
           ,
        
         
           No
           Cost
           can
           grievous
           seem
           to
           give
           him
           Ease
           .
        
         
           No
           Envious
           Lookers
           on
           can
           baulk
           his
           Zeal
           ,
        
         
           But
           what
           He
           does
           He
           rather
           wou'd
           conceal
           ,
        
         
           Best
           pleas'd
           when
           a
           good
           Office
           he
           can
           steal
           .
        
         
         
           Favours
           Receiv'd
           ,
           in
           Memory's
           Book
           he
           sets
           ,
        
         
           What
           He
           bestow's
           as
           zealously
           forgets
           .
        
         
           He
           's
           Sorrow's
           Comfort
           ,
           Difficulty's
           Guide
           ,
        
         
           The
           Joy
           of
           Life
           ,
           Earth's
           Treasure
           ,
           and
           its
           Pride
           ;
        
         
           An
           Angel
           Cloath'd
           in
           Flesh
           ,
           and
           near
           to
           God
           Ally'd
           .
        
         
           The
           End
           of
           the
           Characters
           on
           Vertue
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           HYPOCRITE
           .
        
         
           THE
           Hypocrite
           to
           sadness
           can
           convert
        
         
           His
           looks
           ,
           while
           Mirth
           is
           Rev'lling
           in
           his
           Heart
           ,
        
         
           Then
           Jugler-like
           with
           Pleasure
           does
           retreat
           ,
        
         
           To
           think
           how
           smoothly
           he
           has
           pass'd
           the
           Cheat.
        
         
           How
           with
           false
           stamps
           of
           Vertue
           on
           his
           Face
           ,
        
         
           The
           Miscreant
           passes
           for
           a
           Babe
           of
           Grace
           .
        
         
           With
           early
           Patience
           waits
           at
           the
           Church
           Door
           ,
        
         
           And
           e'er
           half
           enter'd
           he
           salutes
           the
           Floor
           ,
        
         
           But
           still
           observing
           with
           a
           transvers'd
           Eye
           ,
        
         
           What
           Passenger
           does
           his
           Devotion
           spy
           .
        
         
           If
           Cognizance
           to
           take
           He
           none
           perceives
           ,
        
         
           Ftets
           inward
           ,
           and
           at
           his
           lost
           labour
           grieves
           .
        
         
           Looks
           round
           with
           Admiration
           on
           the
           Crowd
           ;
        
         
           Of
           frozen
           Charity
           complains
           aloud
           .
        
         
         
           Takes
           care
           to
           have
           his
           Pew
           plac'd
           best
           in
           sight
           ,
        
         
           In
           hast
           plucks
           forth
           his
           Tables
           as
           to
           write
        
         
           Some
           Sermon-Note
           ,
           mean
           while
           does
           only
           scrawl
           ,
        
         
           Forgotten
           Errands
           there
           ,
           or
           nought
           at
           all
           :
        
         
           Then
           with
           a
           Noise
           whisks
           his
           Boss'd
           Bible
           o'er
           ,
        
         
           Where
           He
           for
           some
           Quotation
           seems
           to
           pore
           ;
        
         
           And
           glancing
           from
           one
           Chapter
           to
           a
           next
           ,
        
         
           Folds
           down
           the
           Leaf
           as
           He
           had
           found
           the
           Text.
        
         
           Enquires
           the
           Preacher's
           Name
           ,
           stays
           last
           i'
           th'
           Church
           ,
        
         
           To
           con
           him
           Thanks
           ,
           and
           waits
           him
           to
           the
           Porch
           .
        
         
           When
           of
           his
           Youth
           he
           speaks
           ,
           his
           Tears
           flow
           fast
           ;
        
         
           Not
           for
           his
           Youth's
           Sins
           ,
           but
           because
           't
           is
           Past.
        
         
           His
           lesser
           Vices
           frankly
           are
           confest
           ,
        
         
           All
           but
           the
           reigning
           Belial
           of
           his
           Breast
           .
        
         
           Gives
           publick
           Alms
           ,
           and
           those
           but
           when
           he
           must
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           without
           Witness
           God
           Himself
           will
           trust
           .
        
         
           With
           Usuries
           ,
           Superfluity
           he
           gilds
        
         
           Extortion
           ,
           and
           an
           Hospital
           he
           builds
           .
        
         
           And
           thinks
           th'
           Injustice
           largely
           is
           repaid
           ,
        
         
           To
           keep
           ten
           Beggars
           for
           ten
           thousand
           made
           .
        
         
         
           From
           Flesh
           on
           Friday
           with
           a
           greater
           Dread
        
         
           He
           does
           Abstain
           than
           from
           his
           Neighbour's
           Bed.
        
         
           To
           swear
           by
           God's
           Name
           rather
           will
           allow
           ,
        
         
           Than
           at
           the
           Name
           of
           Jesus
           not
           to
           Bow.
        
         
           To
           Him
           when
           Fustian
           Poet
           reads
           his
           stuff
           ,
        
         
           He
           begs
           a
           Copy
           ,
           cryes
           't
           is
           Censure-Proof
           .
        
         
           Finds
           nothing
           that
           's
           amiss
           while
           th'
           Authour
           stays
           ,
        
         
           And
           nothing
           ,
           when
           the
           Fop's
           withdrawn
           ,
           to
           Praise
           .
        
         
           By
           his
           Step-Mothers
           Sick-Bed
           he
           can
           Weep
           ,
        
         
           Wish
           her
           sound
           Rest
           ,
           that
           is
           ,
           Eternal
           Sleep
           .
        
         
           I'
           th'
           Street
           he
           greets
           his
           Friend
           with
           chearful
           Eyes
           ,
        
         
           And
           hugging
           Close
           ,
           when
           will
           you
           come
           ?
           He
           cries
           .
        
         
           But
           Curses
           Him
           in
           's
           Heart
           if
           he
           complies
           .
        
         
           Small
           Fare
           affords
           ,
           yet
           ev'n
           that
           small
           does
           grutch
           ,
        
         
           Close-frowning
           on
           his
           Wife
           ,
           that
           't
           is
           so
           much
           .
        
         
           For
           what
           He
           seems
           and
           says
           ,
           He
           well
           might
           pass
           ,
        
         
           Himself
           's
           the
           very
           worst
           Thing
           that
           He
           has
           .
        
         
           His
           Neighbours
           Nuissance
           ,
           and
           the
           Strangers
           Saint
           ;
        
         
           Or
           in
           a
           Word
           ,
           his
           Character
           to
           Paint
           ,
        
         
           Angel
           Abroad
           ,
           at
           Home
           a
           Spirit
           evil
           ,
        
         
           And
           when
           an
           Angel
           worse
           than
           when
           a
           Devil
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           SUPERSTITIOUS
           .
        
         
           WHat
           Monster
           ,
           Superstition
           ,
           is
           like
           Thee
           ,
        
         
           Thou
           Godless
           Zeal
           ,
           devout
           Impiety
           .
        
         
           The
           Superstitious
           Wight
           is
           Folly's
           Heir
           ,
        
         
           Fond
           in
           observance
           ,
           servile
           in
           his
           Fear
           .
        
         
           He
           worships
           God
           but
           as
           He
           lists
           ;
           in
           what
        
         
           Is
           not
           Requir'd
           ,
           He
           'll
           supererogate
           .
        
         
           Give
           more
           ,
           give
           All
           ,
           except
           what
           God
           demands
           ,
        
         
           And
           makes
           more
           Duties
           than
           the
           Ten
           Commands
           .
        
         
           Till
           Cross'd
           and
           sprinkl'd
           dares
           not
           stir
           abroad
           ,
        
         
           Comes
           back
           if
           but
           a
           Hare
           run
           thwart
           his
           Road.
        
         
           If
           he
           but
           trips
           at
           Door
           ,
           or
           on
           his
           Way
           ,
        
         
           But
           recollects
           it
           was
           no
           lucky
           Day
        
         
           Of
           setting
           out
           ,
           (
           though
           All
           's
           Estate
           depend
           )
        
         
           Turns
           back
           in
           sight
           of
           his
           long
           Journey
           's
           End.
        
         
         
           If
           Salt
           fall
           tow'rds
           Him
           he
           looks
           pale
           and
           red
           ,
        
         
           Stares
           as
           the
           House
           were
           tumbling
           on
           his
           Head.
        
         
           Nor
           can
           recover
           Breath
           till
           that
           mis-hap
        
         
           Be
           purg'd
           by
           shedding
           Wine
           into
           his
           Lap.
        
         
           If
           he
           but
           sneeze
           ,
           his
           Eyes
           around
           he
           sends
           ,
        
         
           Thinks
           them
           who
           don
           't
           Uncover
           ,
           not
           his
           Friends
           .
        
         
           To
           judge
           the
           Weather
           walks
           betimes
           abroad
           ,
        
         
           And
           Hearks
           if
           Even
           the
           Crow
           cry
           ,
           or
           Odd.
        
         
           If
           but
           a
           Raven
           Croak
           in
           Dead
           of
           Night
           ,
        
         
           He
           makes
           his
           Will
           as
           he
           had
           heard
           a
           spright
           .
        
         
           Or
           if
           a
           Dream
           shall
           in
           his
           Brains
           Ferment
           ,
        
         
           A
           Garden
           ,
           or
           departed
           Friend
           present
           ;
        
         
           His
           Senses
           are
           into
           Confusion
           hurl'd
           ,
        
         
           Bespeaks
           his
           Coffin
           ,
           and
           takes
           leave
           o'
           th'
           World.
        
         
           On
           such
           Days
           only
           He
           'll
           set
           out
           by
           Water
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           for
           the
           World
           without
           his
           
             Erra
             Pater
          
           .
        
         
           St.
           
           Paul's
           Day
           for
           his
           Oracle
           does
           take
           ,
        
         
           And
           
           Swythin's
           is
           his
           surest
           Almanack
           .
        
         
           No
           Sin
           afflicts
           him
           on
           his
           Dying
           Bed
           ,
        
         
           But
           having
           once
           of
           Flesh
           on
           Friday
           fed
           .
        
         
         
           He
           thinks
           the
           Rest
           can
           no
           Repentance
           need
           ,
        
         
           And
           no
           Repentance
           can
           for
           That
           succeed
           .
        
         
           His
           Dreams
           ,
           for
           sure
           Predictions
           must
           avail
           ,
        
         
           And
           if
           th'
           Event
           his
           Exposition
           fail
           ;
        
         
           His
           Wits
           are
           then
           on
           new
           solutions
           bent
           ,
        
         
           And
           He
           Expounds
           according
           to
           th'
           Event
           .
        
         
           Old
           Wives
           and
           Stars
           are
           all
           his
           Councellors
           ,
        
         
           For
           Recipe's
           'gainst
           Sickness
           ,
           Charms
           he
           wears
           ;
        
         
           For
           Tooth-Ach
           Paracelsian
           Characters
           .
        
         
           Impossibilities
           the
           credulous
           Elf
        
         
           Calls
           Miracles
           ,
           and
           streins
           to
           cheat
           Himself
           .
        
         
           Let
           him
           but
           hear
           that
           in
           a
           distant
           soil
           ,
        
         
           Some
           sacred
           Block
           does
           speak
           ,
           move
           ,
           weep
           ,
           or
           smile
           ;
        
         
           He
           Bare-foot
           hies
           his
           Off'ring
           there
           to
           pay
           ,
        
         
           And
           if
           a
           Danger
           miss
           him
           in
           the
           way
           ;
        
         
           If
           he
           but
           scape
           the
           muting
           of
           a
           Crow
           ,
        
         
           The
           Timber-Saint
           a
           Miracle
           did
           show
           .
        
         
           Some
           Roads
           He
           Baulks
           ,
           for
           Goblins
           there
           he
           feigns
           ,
        
         
           Each
           Lanthorn's
           Will
           o'
           th'
           Wisp
           ,
           and
           ev'ry
           Noise
           of
           Chains
           .
        
         
         
           His
           Custom
           (
           for
           what
           Cause
           he
           ne'er
           cou'd
           know
           )
        
         
           Is
           ,
           with
           some
           little
           Compass
           still
           to
           go
           ;
        
         
           Here
           to
           pass
           Nimbly
           ,
           There
           to
           make
           a
           stand
           ,
        
         
           And
           ever
           leave
           the
           Cross
           on
           his
           Right
           Hand
           .
        
         
           His
           Method
           has
           no
           Reason
           ;
           yet
           no
           Force
        
         
           Threats
           nor
           Entreaties
           make
           him
           change
           his
           Course
           .
        
         
           If
           he
           have
           thum'd
           his
           Beads
           ,
           and
           pray'd
           his
           Tale
           ,
        
         
           He
           's
           safe
           enough
           ;
           it
           matters
           not
           for
           Zeal
           .
        
         
           And
           lastly
           ,
           with
           Respect
           to
           Heav'n
           ,
           might
           He
        
         
           The
           Carver
           of
           his
           Own
           Obedience
           be
           ,
        
         
           God
           never
           cou'd
           a
           better
           Servant
           have
           ,
        
         
           But
           ,
           as
           He
           is
           ,
           has
           no
           perverser
           Slave
           .
        
      
       
         
           THE
           PROFANE
           .
        
         
           IN
           mad
           extreams
           the
           superstitious
           own
        
         
           Too
           many
           Gods
           ,
           but
           the
           Profane
           has
           none
           :
        
         
           Unless
           himself
           his
           Deity
           he
           make
           ,
        
         
           And
           for
           his
           fanci'd
           Heaven
           ,
           the
           World
           does
           take
           .
        
         
         
           He
           breaths
           and
           moves
           ,
           but
           to
           Religion
           Dead
           ,
        
         
           All
           sense
           of
           Fear
           ,
           of
           Love
           ,
           or
           Care
           is
           fled
           .
        
         
           His
           Heart
           without
           Impression
           does
           remain
           ,
        
         
           Tir'd
           Conscience
           there
           repeats
           her
           strokes
           in
           Vain
           .
        
         
           Custom
           of
           Sin
           this
           Senselessness
           has
           wrought
           ,
        
         
           Inur'd
           ,
           and
           to
           the
           Anvils
           Hardness
           brought
           .
        
         
           Long
           rooted
           Vice
           admits
           of
           no
           Redress
           ,
        
         
           He
           pleads
           Prescription
           now
           for
           Wickedness
           .
        
         
           (
           By
           slow
           ascents
           these
           impious
           Heights
           we
           gain
           ,
        
         
           Are
           sinful
           Born
           ,
           but
           make
           our selves
           Profane
           :
           )
        
         
           Through
           Carelessness
           his
           Vicious
           Course
           begins
           ,
        
         
           He
           Sins
           at
           last
           ,
           and
           knows
           not
           that
           he
           Sins
           .
        
         
           Reason
           too
           late
           her
           Counsel
           wou'd
           afford
           ;
        
         
           She
           's
           now
           his
           Slave
           ,
           and
           Appetite
           his
           Lord.
        
         
           Sense
           is
           his
           only
           Creed
           ;
           if
           so
           it
           chance
           ,
        
         
           That
           Piety
           his
           Int'rest
           may
           advance
           ;
        
         
           A
           Cloak
           of
           Sanctity
           he
           can
           provide
           ,
        
         
           And
           what
           he
           Counterfeits
           at
           once
           deride
           .
        
         
           Does
           Sacrifice
           to
           's
           Nets
           :
           when
           Projects
           hit
           ,
        
         
           He
           either
           thanks
           his
           Fortune
           ,
           or
           his
           Wit
           ;
        
         
         
           But
           Providence
           must
           nought
           have
           there
           to
           do
           ,
        
         
           He
           'll
           rather
           make
           false
           Gods
           than
           own
           the
           True.
        
         
           When
           ought
           miscarries
           ,
           destinies
           to
           blame
           ,
        
         
           On
           Heav'ns
           Unkindness
           He
           does
           then
           exclaim
           .
        
         
           Reviles
           the
           Pow'r
           ,
           to
           whose
           Indulgent
           sway
        
         
           He
           wou'd
           not
           be
           beholden
           if
           he
           may
           .
        
         
           Oft-times
           his
           Conscience
           fain
           with
           Him
           wou'd
           speak
           ,
        
         
           He
           sets
           the
           Day
           ,
           but
           does
           th'
           Appointment
           break
           .
        
         
           And
           when
           aloud
           she
           does
           for
           Audience
           cry
           ,
        
         
           He
           drowns
           the
           Noise
           with
           Rev'ling
           Company
           .
        
         
           God's
           Name
           does
           never
           but
           in
           Oaths
           express
           ,
        
         
           And
           never
           thinks
           of
           him
           but
           in
           Distress
           :
        
         
           And
           then
           his
           Thoughts
           in
           dark
           Confusion
           sink
           ,
        
         
           Cause
           He
           but
           then
           begins
           of
           him
           to
           Think
           .
        
         
           His
           Maker
           He
           'll
           accuse
           himself
           to
           free
           ,
        
         
           And
           charges
           all
           his
           Guilt
           on
           God's
           Decree
           .
        
         
           Ingratefully
           thinks
           his
           Condition
           hard
           ,
        
         
           To
           be
           from
           Pleasures
           poyson'd
           Sweets
           debarr'd
           .
        
         
           Does
           Goodness
           ,
           Minstrel-like
           ,
           for
           sport
           bring
           forth
           ,
        
         
           And
           sacred
           Things
           are
           still
           his
           choicest
           Mirth
           .
        
         
         
           To
           Mimickry
           turns
           Grace
           ,
           and
           Vertue
           's
           Rules
           ,
        
         
           And
           best
           diverted
           with
           Religion's
           Fools
           .
        
         
           A
           Slander
           for
           each
           Vertue
           can
           invent
           ,
        
         
           And
           in
           false
           Colours
           ev'ry
           Vice
           present
           .
        
         
           He
           boasts
           of
           his
           young
           Sins
           ,
           and
           past
           offence
           ,
        
         
           With
           cold
           Remembrance
           feeds
           his
           Impotence
           .
        
         
           Enormous
           Crimes
           the
           Libertine
           has
           wrought
           ,
        
         
           Ambitious
           ,
           yet
           more
           wicked
           to
           be
           Thought
           .
        
         
           A
           Lewder
           than
           Himself
           can
           grieve
           to
           see
           ,
        
         
           And
           in
           Damnation
           grudge
           Precedency
           .
        
         
           Hell
           does
           in
           Him
           less
           fear
           than
           Death
           create
           ,
        
         
           As
           being
           sure
           of
           This
           ,
           and
           doubting
           That
           .
        
         
           To
           th'
           Church
           as
           to
           a
           Theater
           resort
           ,
        
         
           For
           Custom
           ,
           Company
           ,
           for
           Sleep
           ,
           or
           Sport.
        
         
           Self-Love
           is
           All
           He
           ever
           Understood
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           that
           enough
           to
           seek
           his
           own
           true
           Good.
        
         
           He
           breaks
           through
           Gratitude
           and
           Friendship
           's
           Ties
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           cares
           on
           whom
           he
           treads
           ,
           so
           he
           may
           Rise
           .
        
         
           His
           Life
           does
           one
           licentious
           Practice
           seem
           ,
        
         
           And
           ev'ry
           Vice
           its
           Centre
           has
           in
           Him.
        
         
           God's
           Hatred
           ,
           and
           his
           Curse
           ;
           a
           Mass
           of
           Evil
           ,
        
         
           In
           Body
           only
           diff'ring
           from
           a
           Devil
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           BUSY-BODY
           .
        
         
           HIS
           own
           Estate
           's
           too
           narrow
           for
           his
           Mind
           ,
        
         
           And
           Room
           in
           other
           Men's
           Affairs
           He
           'll
           find
           .
        
         
           In
           Friend
           and
           Strangers
           Business
           He
           will
           move
           ,
        
         
           And
           ever
           with
           the
           same
           Pretence
           of
           Love.
        
         
           No
           News
           can
           pass
           his
           Door
           ,
           and
           ,
           good
           or
           ill
           ,
        
         
           He
           cannot
           know
           the
           Thing
           he
           does
           not
           tell
           .
        
         
           He
           knows
           the
           Rates
           of
           Traffique
           to
           a
           Hair
           ,
        
         
           What
           Forces
           the
           Confederates
           can
           prepare
           ,
        
         
           How
           Swedeland
           ,
           and
           how
           Denmark
           will
           declare
           .
        
         
           Though
           Trav'ling
           on
           Affairs
           of
           Life
           and
           Death
           ,
        
         
           He
           'll
           stop
           the
           Post
           ,
           and
           Talk
           him
           out
           of
           Breath
           .
        
         
           And
           if
           his
           Humour
           ,
           or
           his
           Hast
           Refuse
           ,
        
         
           Ride
           back
           with
           him
           ,
           and
           piece-meal
           catch
           the
           News
           .
        
         
           And
           if
           through
           Speed
           th'
           Intelligence
           does
           fail
           ,
        
         
           His
           Wit
           Supplies
           ,
           and
           makes
           a
           perfect
           Tale.
        
         
           Then
           Woe
           to
           the
           next
           Man
           that
           He
           comes
           near
           ,
        
         
           Blow
           ,
           Rain
           ,
           or
           Lighten
           ,
           he
           must
           stay
           to
           hear
           ;
        
         
         
           And
           hear
           him
           out
           ,
           while
           in
           a
           tedious
           round
           ,
        
         
           The
           Listner
           and
           Himself
           he
           does
           Confound
           .
        
         
           Disjointedly
           each
           Sentence
           does
           express
           ,
        
         
           With
           long
           Successions
           of
           Parentheses
           .
        
         
           Retrencht
           ,
           to
           let
           his
           stream
           of
           Matter
           run
           ,
        
         
           But
           Vows
           to
           fill
           'em
           up
           e'er
           He
           has
           done
           .
        
         
           If
           two
           together
           in
           the
           street
           He
           views
        
         
           Discoursing
           closely
           ,
           He
           concludes
           strange
           News
           .
        
         
           But
           if
           a
           Letter
           be
           produc'd
           ,
           He
           's
           charm'd
           ,
        
         
           And
           of
           the
           Secret
           begs
           to
           be
           inform'd
           .
        
         
           Deny'd
           ,
           it
           serves
           his
           Turn
           almost
           as
           well
           ,
        
         
           If
           Him
           of
           Wonders
           they
           'll
           permit
           to
           tell
           .
        
         
           Then
           with
           a
           Scotish
           Mine
           he
           does
           begin
           ,
        
         
           Of
           a
           whole
           Shoal
           of
           Whales
           come
           up
           at
           Linn
           .
        
         
           Thank
           Him
           ,
           a
           thousand
           Times
           your
           Thanks
           repeat
           ,
        
         
           All
           's
           One
           ,
           his
           Tongue
           it
           's
           Larum
           must
           compleat
           .
        
         
           You
           'll
           name
           no
           Undertaking
           which
           He
           'll
           baulk
           ,
        
         
           But
           all
           Concludes
           ,
           where
           it
           Commenc'd
           ,
           in
           Talk.
        
         
           He
           'll
           teach
           Another
           what
           Himself
           ne'er
           knew
           ,
        
         
           And
           be
           a
           Guide
           in
           Ways
           he
           ne'er
           pass'd
           through
           .
        
         
           Look
           in
           at
           's
           Neighbour's
           Window
           ,
           and
           demand
        
         
           The
           Reason
           why
           his
           Servants
           idle
           stand
           .
        
         
         
           Call'd
           to
           Another's
           Table
           ,
           't
           is
           his
           way
        
         
           To
           slander
           some
           Third
           Person
           ,
           and
           Convey
        
         
           The
           Tale
           to
           him
           that
           's
           wrong'd
           ,
           whom
           having
           sworn
        
         
           To
           Secrecy
           ,
           with
           speed
           he
           does
           return
        
         
           To
           his
           first
           Host
           ,
           and
           this
           dark
           Practice
           ply
           ,
        
         
           Till
           Both
           are
           set
           on
           Fire
           they
           know
           not
           why
           .
        
         
           His
           Ears
           are
           Quick
           ,
           and
           no
           less
           quick
           his
           Eyes
           ,
        
         
           To
           Imperfections
           These
           ,
           and
           Those
           to
           Lyes
           .
        
         
           He
           stops
           Another's
           Servant
           ,
           takes
           him
           in
           ,
        
         
           Treats
           him
           ,
           and
           does
           his
           Master's
           Health
           begin
           ;
        
         
           Thence
           slily
           falls
           to
           ask
           of
           his
           Affairs
           ,
        
         
           What
           sort
           of
           Company
           t'
           his
           House
           repairs
           ;
        
         
           What
           is
           their
           usual
           Fare
           ,
           and
           what
           Discourse
        
         
           Passes
           at
           Meals
           .
           Thus
           does
           th'
           Extorter
           force
           ;
        
         
           But
           ,
           soon
           as
           drein'd
           ,
           the
           Guest
           his
           leave
           must
           take
           ,
        
         
           And
           Room
           for
           fresh
           Intelligencers
           make
           .
        
         
           This
           Man
           thinks
           Constancy
           a
           dull
           disgrace
           ,
        
         
           And
           still
           is
           shifting
           of
           his
           Work
           and
           Place
           ;
        
         
           But
           of
           no
           Place
           can
           half
           so
           weary
           seem
           ,
        
         
           Or
           half
           so
           soon
           ,
           as
           is
           the
           Place
           of
           Him.
        
         
           In
           each
           Acquaintance
           he
           has
           got
           a
           Foe
           ,
        
         
           For
           not
           to
           hate
           him
           you
           must
           Him
           not
           know
           .
        
         
         
           He
           toils
           unthank'd
           ,
           he
           talks
           without
           Belief
           ,
        
         
           Living
           has
           no
           Man's
           Love
           ,
           Dead
           ,
           no
           Man's
           Grief
           ;
        
         
           Unless
           by
           Chance
           the
           last
           Defect's
           supply'd
           ,
        
         
           And
           some
           may
           Grieve
           that
           he
           no
           sooner
           Dy'd
           .
        
      
       
         
           THE
           ENVIOUS
           .
        
         
           THE
           Envious
           feeds
           upon
           his
           Neighbours
           Ills
           ,
        
         
           And
           no
           Disease
           ,
           but
           others
           Wellfare
           ,
           feels
           .
        
         
           God's
           Benefits
           perversly
           does
           destroy
           ;
        
         
           With
           Company
           no
           Blessing
           can
           enjoy
           .
        
         
           Wou'd
           rather
           have
           Superiours
           in
           Distress
           ,
        
         
           Than
           Equals
           in
           a
           common
           Happiness
           .
        
         
           He
           's
           an
           ill
           Prizer
           of
           his
           Neighbour's
           store
           ,
        
         
           And
           yet
           ,
           his
           own
           computing
           ,
           He
           errs
           more
           :
        
         
           On
           neither
           the
           just
           Value
           will
           bestow
           ,
        
         
           For
           ,
           That
           he
           rates
           too
           High
           ,
           and
           This
           too
           Low.
        
         
           He
           asks
           in
           what
           Repute
           his
           Equals
           Live
           ;
        
         
           About
           his
           Betters
           more
           Inquisitive
           .
        
         
           If
           just
           Report
           his
           Envious
           search
           defeat
           ,
        
         
           In
           closer
           Terms
           his
           Question
           He
           'll
           repeat
           .
        
         
         
           And
           when
           his
           spight
           can
           fasten
           on
           no
           Flaw
           ,
        
         
           His
           Snakes
           turn
           back
           his
           own
           rank
           Heart
           to
           gnaw
           .
        
         
           With
           God
           he
           quarrels
           ,
           if
           his
           Neighbour's
           Field
        
         
           With
           better
           Tillage
           ,
           fairer
           Grain
           does
           yield
           .
        
         
           For
           one
           Chance-Blight
           he
           murmurs
           and
           inveys
           ,
        
         
           For
           Ten
           Successive
           Crops
           no
           Thanks
           repays
           .
        
         
           Whom
           openly
           He
           dares
           not
           to
           traduce
           ,
        
         
           With
           Short
           or
           Over-praise
           He
           will
           abuse
           .
        
         
           Allows
           his
           Rival
           all
           things
           but
           his
           Right
           ,
        
         
           And
           most
           in
           Commendation
           shews
           his
           Spight
           .
        
         
           If
           Courteous
           his
           Competitor
           appear
           ,
        
         
           He
           's
           then
           Inveigling
           ,
           Crafty
           ,
           Popular
           .
        
         
           If
           Bountiful
           ,
           a
           Faction
           is
           design'd
           ,
        
         
           To
           which
           with
           Bribes
           he
           does
           his
           Clients
           bind
           .
        
         
           And
           if
           in
           War
           his
           Rival
           has
           success
           ,
        
         
           He
           's
           so
           much
           more
           a
           dang'rous
           Man
           in
           Peace
           .
        
         
           By
           Industry
           in
           Wealth
           ,
           or
           Power
           grown
           strong
           ,
        
         
           He
           's
           hoarding
           up
           of
           means
           for
           future
           wrong
           .
        
         
           Thus
           does
           the
           Envious
           Man
           distort
           and
           force
        
         
           True
           Worth
           ,
           and
           turn
           each
           Vertue
           to
           a
           Curse
           .
        
         
           In
           his
           Religion
           Policy
           still
           lurks
           ,
        
         
           And
           by
           Submission
           his
           Ambition
           works
           .
        
         
           No
           Law
           ,
           that
           had
           the
           Publick
           Good
           enclos'd
           ,
        
         
           Can
           pass
           ,
           because
           by
           Him
           not
           first
           Propos'd
           .
        
         
           Not
           his
           own
           Int'rest
           for
           that
           time
           he
           weighs
           ,
        
         
           But
           Suffers
           ,
           to
           defraud
           Another's
           Praise
           .
        
         
           If
           Evil
           of
           his
           Rival
           ,
           Fame
           report
           ,
        
         
           He
           cryes
           she
           's
           Partial
           ,
           and
           of
           Truth
           comes
           short
           .
        
         
         
           What
           Prejudice
           relates
           ,
           as
           being
           worst
           ,
        
         
           In
           his
           Recital
           He
           still
           mentions
           first
           :
        
         
           Knowing
           that
           gentler
           Truth
           too
           slowly
           treads
           ,
        
         
           And
           that
           the
           first
           ill
           Rumour
           farthest
           spreads
           .
        
         
           He
           'll
           stab
           i'
           th'
           Dark
           ,
           and
           then
           with
           pitying
           Voice
        
         
           Bemoan
           the
           Fate
           that
           makes
           his
           Heart
           Rejoice
           .
        
         
           Of
           his
           ill
           Deeds
           his
           Nature
           is
           the
           Cause
           ,
        
         
           The
           Good
           He
           Acts
           is
           only
           for
           Applause
           .
        
         
           And
           that
           which
           cannot
           to
           his
           share
           befal
        
         
           To
           do
           ,
           He
           still
           takes
           Care
           no
           other
           shall
           .
        
         
           Of
           his
           Best
           Skill
           He
           just
           enough
           will
           show
           ,
        
         
           To
           let
           the
           World
           perceive
           what
           He
           does
           know
           ;
        
         
           His
           Med'cine's
           Sov'raign
           Use
           he
           will
           reveal
           ,
        
         
           The
           Art
           to
           make
           't
           ,
           does
           ev'n
           in
           Death
           Conceal
           ;
        
         
           Pleas'd
           that
           he
           can
           a
           Prize
           from
           Mankind
           steal
           .
        
         
           God's
           Blessings
           ,
           if
           beside
           Himself
           they
           fall
           ,
        
         
           His
           Curses
           prove
           ,
           and
           make
           Him
           burst
           with
           Gall.
        
         
           Yet
           after
           All
           there
           's
           none
           can
           grudge
           the
           Elf
        
         
           His
           Diet
           ,
           for
           the
           Miscreant
           eats
           Himself
           .
        
         
           To
           turn
           a
           Devil
           He
           waits
           but
           his
           Life's
           End
           ,
        
         
           Till
           then
           a
           Carcase
           quicken'd
           by
           a
           Fiend
           .
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
           THE
           Life
           of
           Alexander
           the
           Great
           ,
           Written
           in
           Latin
           by
           
             Quintus
             Curtius
          
           ,
           Translated
           into
           English
           by
           several
           Hands
           ,
           and
           now
           Dedicated
           to
           the
           QUEEN
           .
           By
           
             N.
             Tate
          
           .
        
         
      
    
  

