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And kept 'em prisoners of course,
For being sober at ill hours ;
That in the morning he might free
Or bind 'em over for his fee :
Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays,
For leave to practise in their ways ;
Farm'd out all cheats, and went a share
With th' headborough and scavenger ;
And made the dirt i’ th' streets compound
For taking up the public ground;
The kennel and the king's highway,
For being unmolested, pay ;
Let out the stocks, and whipping-post,
And cage, to those that gave him most ;
Imposed a task on bakers' ears,
And, for false weights, on chandelers ;
Made victuallers and vintners fine
For arbitrary ale and wine ;
But was a kind and constant friend
To all that regularly offend,
As residentiary bawds,
And brokers that receive stol’n goods;
That cheat in lawful mysteries,
And pay church duties and his fees :
But was implacable and awkward
To all that interloped and hawker'd.

To this brave man the Knight repairs
For counsel in his law-affairs,
And found him mounted in his pew,
With books and money placed, for shew,
Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
And for his false opinion pay :
To whom the Knight, with comely grace,
Put off his hat, to put his case ;
Which he as proudly entertain'd
As th' other courteously strain'd ;
And, to assure him 't was not that
He look'd for, bid him put on 's hat.

Quoth he, there is one Sidrophel,
Whom I have cudgell’d- Very well.
And now he brags to 've beaten me -
Better and better still, quoth he.
And vows to stick me to a wall,
Where'er he meets me -Best of all.
'Tis true the knave has taken 's oath
That I robb’d him—Well done, in troth.
When he's confess'd he stole my cloak,
And pick'd my fob, and what he took ;
Which was the cause that made me bang him,
And take my goods again—Marry, hang him.
Now, whether I should beforehand
Swear he robb’d me?-I understand.
Or bring my action of conversion
And trover for my goods ?-Ah, whoreson !
Or, if 't is better to endite,
And bring him to his trial ?—Right,
Prevent what he designs to do,
And swear for th' state against him ?- True.
Or whether he that is defendant
In this case has the better end on't ;
Who, putting in a new cross-bill,
May traverse th' action ?- Better still.

Then there's a lady too-Ay, marry !
That's easily proved accessary ;
A widow who by solemn vows
Contracted to me, for my spouse,
Combined with him to break her word,
And has abetted all-Good Lord !
Suborn'd th' aforesaid Sidrophel
To tamper with the dev'l of hell,
Who put m' into a horrid fear,
Fear of my life—Make that appear.
Made an assault with fiends and men
Upon my body-Good agen.
And kept me in a deadly fright,
And false imprisonment, all night.
Meanwhile they robb’d me, and my horse,
And stole my saddle-Worse and worse.
And made me mount upon the bare ridge,
T' avoid a wretcheder miscarriage.

Sir, (quoth the lawyer,) not to flatter ye,
You have as good and fair a battery
As heart can wish, and need not shame
The proudest man alive to claim ;
For if they've used you as you say,
Marry, quoth I, God give you joy ;
I would it were my case, I'd give
More than I'll say, or you'll believe :
I would so trounce her, and her purse,
I'd make her kneel for better or worse :
For matrimony, and hanging here,
Both go by destiny so clear,
That you as sure may pick and choose,
As cross I win, and pile you lose :
And if I durst, I would advance
As much in ready maintenance,
As upon any case I've known ;
But we that practise dare not own :
The law severely contrabands
Our taking bus'ness off men's hands :
'Tis common barratry, that bears
Point-blank an action 'gainst our ears,
And crops them till there is not leather,
To stick a pin in, left of either ;
For which some do the summer-sault,
And o'er the bar, like tumblers, vault :
But you may swear, at any rate,
Things not in nature, for the state;
For in all courts of justice here
A witness is not said to swear,
But make oath ; that is, in plain terms,
To forge whatever he affirms.

I thank you (quoth the Knight) for that,
Because 'tis to my purpose pat-
For Justice, though she's painted blind,
Is to the weaker side inclined,
Like Charity ; else right and wrong
Could never hold it out so long,
And, like blind Fortune, with a sleight,
Conveys men's interest and right
From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's,
As easily as Hocus Pocus ;
Plays fast and loose, makes men obnoxious,
And clear again like hiccius doctius.

Then, whether you would take her life,
Or but recover her for your wife,
Or be content with what she has,
And let all other matters pass,
The bus'ness to the law's alone,
The proof is all it looks upon ;
And you can want no witnesses
To swear to anything you please,
That hardly get their mere expences
By th' labour of their consciences,
Or letting out to hire their ears
To affidavit customers,
At inconsiderable values,
To serve for jurymen, or tallies,
Although retain'd in th' hardest matters
Of trustees and administrators.

For that (quoth he) let me alone ;
We've store of such, and all our own,
Bred up and tutor'd by our Teachers,
The ablest of conscience-stretchers.

That's well, (quoth he,) but I should guess, By weighing all advantages, Your surest way is first to pitch On Bongey for a water-witch ; And when ye've hang’d the conjurer, Ye've time enough to deal with her. In th’int'rim spare for no trepans To draw her neck into the bans ; Ply her with love-letters and billets, And bait 'em well, for quirks and quillets, With trains t'inveigle and surprise Her heedless answers and replies;

And if she miss the mouse-trap lines,
They 'll serve for other by-designs ;
And make an artist understand
To copy out her seal, or hand;
Or find void places in the paper
To steal in something to entrap her;
Till with her worldly goods, and body,
Spite of her heart, she has endow'd ye :
Retain all sorts of witnesses,
That ply i' th' Temple, under trees,
Or walk the round, with Knights o' th’ Posts,
About the cross-legg’d knights, their hosts ;
Or wait for customers between
The pillar-rows in Lincoln's-Inn ;
Where vouchers, forgers, common-bail,
And affidavit-men, ne'er fail
T'expose to sale all sorts of oaths,
According to their ears and clothes,
Their only necessary tools,
Besides the Gospel and their souls :
And when ye’re furnish'd with all purveys,
I shall be ready at your service.

I would not give (quoth Hudibras)
A straw to understand a case,
Without the admirable skill
To wind and manage it at will ;
To veer, and tack, and steer a cause
Against the weathergage of laws,
And ring the changes upon cases,
As plain as noses upon faces,
As you have well instructed me,
For which you've earn’d (here 'tis) your fee.

ISAAK WALTON.

(Born, 1593. Died, 1683.)

Isaak Walton, who in the humble profession feet and a half long and five feet wide. His of a sempster in London had some of the most favourite amusement was angling, on which he eminent men of his age for his intimate friends, has left a treatise, together with some interesting was born at Stafford, and made his first settle- biographical memoirs, which have been made ment in London in a shop which was but seven well known by many modern and elegant editions,

THE ANGLER'S WISH.

I in these flowery meads would be :
These crystal streams should solace me,
To whose harmonious bubbling noise
I with my angle would rejoice ;
Sit here and see the turtle dove
Court his chaste mate to acts of love :

Or on that bank feel the west wind
Breathe health and plenty: please my mind
To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers,
And then wash'd off by April showers ;
Here hear my kenna sing a song,
There see a blackbird feed her young,

Or a leverock build her nest :
Here give my weary spirits rest,
And raise my low-pitch'd thoughts above
Earth, or what poor mortals love ;
Or, with my Bryan* and my book,
Loiter long days near Shawford brook :
There sit by him and eat my meat,
There see the sun both rise and set,
There bid good morning to next day,
There meditate my time away,
And angle on, and beg to have
A quiet passage to the grave.

* Probably his dog.

WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL OF ROSCOMMON.

(Born, 1623. Died, 1684-5.]

WENTWORTH Dillon, Earl of Roscommon, was a captain of the Band of Pensioners. “It may the maternal nephew of the unfortunate Earl of be remarked,” says Dr. Warton, “ to the praise Strafford. He was born in Ireland, educated at of Roscommon, that he was the first critic who Caen in Normandy, travelled into Italy, and, re had taste and spirit enough publicly to praise the turning to England at the Restoration, was made Paradise Lost *."

FROM “AN ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE."

IMMODEST words admit of no defence ;
For want of decency is want of sense.
What moderate fop would rake the park or stews,
Whoamong troops of faultless nymphs may choose ?
Variety of such is to be found :
Take then a subject proper to expound;
But moral, great, and worth a poet's voice ;
For men of sense despise a trivial choice :
And such applause it must expect to meet,
As would some painter busy in a street,
To copy bulls and bears, and every sign
That calls the staring sots to wasty wine.

Yet 'tis not all to have a subject good :
It must delight us when 'tis understood.
He that brings fulsome objects to my view,
(As many old have done, and many new,)
With nauseous images my fancy fills,
And all goes down like oxymel of squills.
Instruct the listening world how Maro sings
Of useful subjects and of lofty things.
These will such true, such bright ideas raise,
As merit gratitude, as well as praise :
But foul descriptions are offensive still,
Either for being like, or being ill :
For who, without a qualm, hath ever look'd
On holy garbage, though by Homer cook’d?
Whose railing lieroes, and whose wounded gods
Makes some suspect he snores, as well as nods.
But I offend— Virgil begins to frown,
And Horace looks with indignation down :
My blushing Muse with conscious fear retires,
And whom they like implicitly admires.

On sure foundations let your fabric rise, And with attractive majesty surprise ; Not by affected meretricious arts, But strict harmonious symmetry of parts ; Which through the whole insensibly must pass, With vital heat to animate the mass : A pure, an active, an auspicious flame; [came : And bright as heaven, from whence the blessing But few, oh ! few souls, pre-ordain’d by fate, The race of gods, have reach'd that envied height. No Rebel-Titan's sacrilegious crime, By heaping hills on hills can hither climb :

The grizly ferryman of hell denied
Æneas entrance, till he knew his guide.
How justly then will impious mortals fall,
Whose pride would soar to heaven without a call !

Pride (of all others the most dangerous fault)
Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought.
The men who labour and digest things most,
Will be much apter to despond than boast :
For if your author be profoundly good,
'Twill cost you dear before he's understood.
How many ages since has Virgil writ!
How few are they who understand him yet!
Approach his altars with religious fear :
No vulgar deity inhabits there.
Heaven shakes not more at Jove's imperial nod,
Than poets should before their Mantuan god.
Hail, mighty Maro ! may that sacred name
Kindle my breast with thy celestial flame,
Sublime ideas and apt words infuse ; [Muse!
The Muse instruct my voice, and thou inspire the

What I have instanced only in the best, Is, in proportion, true of all the rest. Take pains the genuine meaning to explore ! There sweat, there strain ; tug the laborious oar ; Search every comment that your care can find ; Some here, some there, may hit the poet's mind : Yet be not blindly guided by the throng: The multitude is always in the wrong. When things appear unnatural or hard, Consult your author, with himself compared. Who knows what blessing Phæbus may bestow, And future ages to your labour owe ? Such secrets are not easily found out ; But, once discover'd, leave no room for doubt. Truth stamps conviction in your ravish'd breast; And peace and joy attend the glorious guest.

Truth still is one ; truth is divinely bright; No cloudy doubts obscure her native light; While in your thoughts you find the least debate, You may confound, but never can translate. Your style will this through all disguises show; For none explain more clearly than they know.

(* Dryden was before him, but Roscommon was the first to write in imitation of Milton's manner.)

WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL OF ROSCOMMON.

281

He only proves he understands a text,

His pills as thick as hand grenadoes flew ; Whose exposition leaves it unperplex'd.

And where they fell, as certainly they slew : They who too faithfully on paines insist,

His name struck everywhere as great a damp, Rather create than dissipate the mist;

As Archimedes' through the Roman camp. And grow unjust by being over nice,

With this, the doctor's pride began to cool ; (For superstitious virtue turns to vice.)

For smarting soundly may convin

a fool. Let Crassus' ghost and Labienus tell

But now repentance came too late for grace ; How twice in Parthian plains their legions fell. And meagre famine stared him in the face : Since Rome hath been so jealous of her fame, Fain would he to the wives be reconciled, That few know Pacorus' or Moneses' name. But found no husband left to own a child. Words in one language elegantly used,

The friends, that got the brats, were poison'd too: Will hardly in another be excused ;

In this sad case, what could our vermin do? And some that Rome admired in Caesar's time, Worried with debts, and past all hope of bail, May neither suit our genius nor our clime. Th’unpitied wretch lies rotting in a jail : The genuine sense, intelligibly told,

And there with basket-alms, scarce kept alive, Shows a translator both discreet and bold.

Shows how mistaken talents ought to thrive. Excursions are inexpiably bad ;

I pity, from my soul, unhappy men, And 'tis much safer to leave out than add., Compellid by want to prostitute their pen; Abstruse and mystic thought you must express Who must, like lawyers, either starve or plead, With painful care, but seeming easiness ;

And follow, right or wrong, where guineas lead ! For truth shines brightest through the plainest | But you, Pompilian, wealthy, pamper'd heirs, dress.

Who to your country owe your swords and cares, ThӮnean Muse, when she appears in state, Let no vain hope your easy mind seduce, Makes all Jove's thunder on her verses wait ; For rich ill poets are without excuse ; Yet writes sometimes as soft and moving things "Tis very dangerous tampering with the Muse, As Venus speaks, or Philomela sings.

The profit 's small, and you have much to lose; Your author always will the best advise,

For though true wit adorns your birth or place, Fall when he falls, and when he rises, rise, Degenerate lines degrade th' attainted race. Affected noise is the most wretched thing,

No poet any passion can excite, That to contempt can empty scribblers bring. But what they feel transport them when they write. Vowels and accents, regularly placed,

Have you been led through the Cumaan cave, On even syllables (and still the last)

And heard th' impatient maid divinely rave ? Though gross innumerable faults abound,

I hear her now ; I see her rolling eyes ; In spite of nonsense, never fail of sound.

And panting, Lo ! the God, the God, she cries : But this is meant of even verse alone,

With words not hers, and more than human sound, As being most harmonious and most known : She makes th' obedient ghosts peep trembling For if you will unequal numbers try,

through the ground. There accents on odd syllables must lie.

But, though we must obey when Heaven commands, Whatever sister of the learned Nine

And man in vain the sacred call withstands, Does to your suit a willing ear incline,

Beware what spirit rages in your breast ; Urge your success, deserve a lasting name, For ten inspired, ten thousand are possest : She'll crown a grateful and a constant Hame. Thus make the proper use of each extreme, But, if a wild uncertainty prevail,

And write with fury, but correct with phlegm. And turn your veering heart with every gale, As when the cheerful hours too freely pass, You lose the fruit of all your former care,

And sparkling wine smiles in the tempting glass, For the sad prospect of a just despair.

Your pulse advises, and begins to beat A quack (too scandalously mean to name) Through every swelling vein a loud retreat : Had, by man-midwifery, got wealth and fame ; So when a Muse propitiously invites, As if Lucina had forgot her trade,

Improve her favours, and indulge her flights ; The labouring wife invokes his surer aid.

But when you find that vigorous heat abate, Well-season'd bowls the gossip's spirits raise, Leave off, and for another summons wait. Who, while she guzzles, chats the doctor's praise; Before the radiant sun, a glimmering lamp, And largely, what she wants in words, supplies, Adulterate measures to the sterling stamp, With maudlin eloquence of trickling eyes.

Appear not meaner than mere human lines, But what a thoughtless animal is man !

Compared with those whose inspiration shines : (How very active in his own trepan !)

These, nervous, bold ; those, languid and remiss ; For, greedy of physicians' frequent fees,

There cold salutes; but here a lover's kiss. From female mellow praise he takes degrees ; Thus have I seen a rapid headlong tide, Struts in a new unlicensed gown, and then With foaming waves the passive Saone divide ; From saving women falls to killing men.

Whose lazy waters without motion lay, Another such had left the nation thin,

While he, with eager force, urged his impetuous In spite of all the children he brought in.

way.

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CHAMONT'S SUSPICIONS OF HIS SISTER.

Cam. No, but I fear her weakness

May make her pay a debt at any rate ;
Persons-ACASTO, the guardian of MONIMIA; MONINIA, And to deal freely with your lordship’s goodness,
and her brother CHAMONT.

I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.
Enter Servant,

Acas. Then first charge her; and if the offence
Serv. My lord, th’expected guests are just arrived.

be found Acas. Go you, and give them welcome and re Within my reach, though it should touch my nature, ception.

In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance
Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your assistance

Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoiced in,
In something that concerns my peace and honour. I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance. [Erit.
Acas. Spoke like the son of that brave man I loved: Cham. I thank you from my soul.

Mon.
So freely friendly we conversed together.

Alas, my brother ! Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it.

What have I done ? and why do you abuse me? Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword.

My heart quakes in me ; in your settled face Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship nor your

And clouded brow methinks I see my fate : justice.

You will not kill me! Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear,

Cham.

Pr’ythee, why dost talk so! My orphan sister, must not be forgotten !

Mon. Look kindly on me, then. I cannot bear Acas. Pr’ythee, no more of that ; it grates my

Severity ; it daunts, and does amaze me :

My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough, Cham. When our dear parents died, they died

I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing. together,

[them : But use me gently like a loving brother, One fate surprised them, and one grave received

And search through all the secrets of my soul.
My father with his dying breath bequeathed Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a brother,
Her to my love : my mother, as she lay

A tender, honest, and a loving brother.
Languishing by him, call’d me to her side, [me, You've not forgot our father ?
Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embraced

Mon.

I shall never.
Then press'd me close, and as she observed my tears Cham. Then you'll remember too, he was a man
Kiss'd them away ; said she, Chamont, my son,

That lived up the standard of his honour,
By this, and all the love I ever show'd thee, And prized that jewel more than mines of wealth:
Be careful of Monimia, watch her youth,

He'd not have done a shameful thing but once,
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour; [sigh’d, Though kept in darkness from the world, and hidden,
Perhaps kind Heaven may raise some friend. Then He could not have forgiven it to himself :
Kiss'd me again ; so bless'd us and expired. This was the only portion that he left us ;
Pardon my grief.

And I more glory in it, than if possess'd
Acas.

It speaks an honest nature. Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.
Cham. The friend Heaven raisedwas you, you tock 'Twas a large trust, and must be managed nicely:
An infant, to the desert world exposed, [her up, Now if by any chance, Monimia,
And proved another parent.

You have soild this gem, and taken from its value,
Acas.

I've not wrong'd her. How will you account with me? Cham. Far be it from my fears.

Mon.

I challenge envy, Acas.

Then why this argument ? Malice, and all the practices of hell, Cham. My lord, my nature 's jealous, and you'll To censure all the actions of my past Acas. Go on.

[bear it. Unhappy life, and taint me if they can ! Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly : Cham. I'll tell thee, then: three nights ago, as I Good offices claim gratitude ; and pride,

Lay musing in my bed, all darkness round me, Where power is wanting, will usurp a little, A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat And make us (rather than be thought behind-hand) Dew'd all my face, and trembling seized my limbs : Pay over-price.

My bed shook under me, the curtains started, Acas. I cannot guess your drift ;

And to my tortured fancy there appear'd Distrust you me?

The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art,

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