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diff --git a/27776.txt b/27776.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..42d9cc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/27776.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2179 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Methodist, by Evan Lloyd + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Methodist + A Poem + + +Author: Evan Lloyd + + + +Release Date: January 11, 2009 [eBook #27776] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE METHODIST*** + + +E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Anne Storer, and the +Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +The Augustan Reprint Society + +EVAN LLOYD + +THE METHODIST. + +A Poem. + +(1766) + +Introduction by Raymond Bentman + + + + + + + +Publication Number 151-152 +William Andrews Clark Memorial Library +University Of California, Los Angeles +1972 + + + + +GENERAL EDITORS + +William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library +George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles +Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles +David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles + + +ADVISORY EDITORS + +Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan +James L. Clifford, Columbia University +Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia +Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles +Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago +Louis A. Landa, Princeton University +Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles +Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota +Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles +Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library +James Sutherland, University College, London +H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles +Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library +Curt A. Zimansky, State University of Iowa + + +CORRESPONDING SECRETARY + +Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library + + +EDITORIAL ASSISTANT + +Jean T. Shebanek, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Evan Lloyd's works consist chiefly of four satires written in 1766 +and 1767,[1] all of which are now little-known. What little notice he +receives today results from his friendship with John Wilkes and David +Garrick and from one satire, _The Methodist_, which is usually included +in surveys of anti-Methodist literature.[2] For the most part, his +obscurity is deserved. In _The Methodist_, however, he participates in +a short-lived revolt against the tyranny of Augustan satire and shows +considerable evidence of a talent that might have created a new style +for formal verse satire. + +The seventeen-sixties were a difficult period for satire. The struggle +between Crown and Parliament, the new industrial and agricultural +methods, the workers' demands for higher pay, the new rural and urban +poor, the growth of the Empire, the deteriorating relations with the +American colonies, the increasing influence of the ideas of the +Enlightenment, the popularity of democratic ideas, the Wilkes +controversy, the growth of Methodism, the growth of the novel, +the interest in the gothic and the picturesque and in chinoiserie, +sentimentality, enthusiasm--all these activities made England a highly +volatile country. Some changes were truly dynamic, others just fads. +But to someone living in the period, who dared to look around him, the +complexity of the present and the uncertainty of the future must have +seemed enormous. + +To a satirist, such complexity makes art difficult. Satire usually deals +with every-day realities, to which it applies simple moral ideals. The +Augustan satiric alternative--returning to older beliefs in religion, +government, philosophy, art--and the stylistic expression of such +beliefs--formal verse satire and epistle, mock-poem, heroic or +Hudibrastic couplet, diction of polite conversation, ironic metaphysical +conceits, fantastic fictional situations--become irrelevant to the +satirist writing when the past seems lost. In his later works, Pope +took Augustan satire about as far as it could go. _The Epilogue to the +Satires_ becomes an epilogue to all Augustan satire and the conclusion +of _The New Dunciad_ declares the death of its own tradition. There is a +sense now that England and the world have reached the point of no return. +The satirist of the seventeen-sixties who repeats the ideas and styles +of Butler, Dryden, Swift, Gay, and Pope seems not only imitative but +out-of-touch with the world around him. + +But such difficulties can provide the impetus for new forms and for +original styles. And in the seventeen-sixties the writers of formal +satire show signs of responding to the challenge. Christopher Anstey, +Charles Churchill, Robert Lloyd, and Evan Lloyd seem, during this decade, +to be developing their considerable facilities with satiric technique +toward the creation of new styles. Anstey's _New Bath Guide_ has a +combination of epistolary fiction, realism, use of naive observers, +changing points of view, sweeping view of the social scene, great range +of subjects, rolicking verse forms, and tone of detached amusement which +suggests a satirist who, while still largely derivative, had the talent +to create new techniques. Churchill and Robert Lloyd are explicit in +their wish to break from Augustan style. Churchill argues that it was "a +sin 'gainst Pleasure, to design / A plan, to methodize each thought, each +line / Highly to finish." He claims to write "When the mad fit comes on" +and praises poetry written "Wild without art, and yet with pleasure wild" +(_Gotham_ [1764], II, 167-169, 172, 212). His satire--with its +deliberate, irreverant, "Byronic" run-on lines, fanciful digressions, +playful indifference to formal structure, impulsively involuted syntax, +long, wandering sentences--seems to move, as does Robert Lloyd's satire +(at a somewhat slower pace), toward a genuinely new style. In being +chatty, fluid, iconoclastic, spontaneous-sounding, self-revealing, his +satire might eventually prove capable of dealing with the problems that +the Augustan satirists had predicted but did not have to deal with so +directly. But both Churchill and Robert Lloyd died before they could +develop their styles to the point that they had a new, timely statement +to make. Anstey failed to develop beyond the _New Bath Guide_, and his +influence proved to be more important on the novel than on verse satire. + +Evan Lloyd's first satire, _The Powers of the Pen_, is a clever but +ordinary satire on good and bad writing. It has some historical interest +as an example of the early influence of Rousseau in England, of part of +the attack on Samuel Johnson for his adverse criticism of Shakespeare, +of the influence of Churchill (Lloyd declared himself a disciple), and +of the expression of the fashionable interest in artlessness which was +influenced as much by Joseph Warton as by Rousseau. In a "quill shop" the +narrator discovers magic pens which write like various authors. The one +whose "Mate was purchas'd by Rousseau" can: + + Teach the Passions how to grow + With native Vigour; unconfined + By those vile Shackles, which the Mind + Wears in the _School of Art_.... + Yet will no _Heresies_ admit, + To gratify the _Pride of Wit_ (p. 30). + +He advances these critical dicta elsewhere in this satire, condemning +Johnson because he tries "Nature" by "_Critic-law_" (p. 21). With +fashionable Rousseauistic ideas he praises: + + The _Muse_, who never lov'd the Town, + Ne'er flaunted in brocaded Gown; + Pleas'd thro' the hawthorn'd Vale to roam, + Or sing her artless Strain at Home, + Bred in plain Nature's simple Rules, + Far from the Foppery of Schools (p. 36). + +Evan Lloyd, Robert Lloyd, and Churchill, starting from somewhat different +philosophic principles, all arrive at similar positions. + +_The Curate_, his second satire, is largely autobiographical. It shows, +as does _The Powers of the Pen_, some clever turns of phrases, pithy +expressions, and amusing images. It also contains incisive criticism of +corruption in the Church, of declining respect for Christianity, and, +what seems to Lloyd almost the same thing, of a collapsing class +structure. The Church wardens, "uncivil and unbred! / Unlick'd, untaught, +un-all-things--but unfed!" are "but sweepers of the pews, / The +_Scullions of the Church_, they dare abuse, / And rudely treat their +betters" (pp. 16-17). They show a lack of proper respect both for +class-structure and Christianity: + + _Servant to Christ!_ and what is that to me? + I keep a servant too, as well as He (p. 17). + +But _The Curate_ frequently descends to a whine. The curate is morally +above reproach while those above him are arrogant and those below him are +disrespectful. + +The most serious problem with _The Curate_, however, is the same as the +problem with all of Lloyd's satires except _The Methodist_, and the same +as the problem with almost all satires between Pope and Burns or Blake. +The satirist seems unwilling to probe, to find out what are the +political, ethical, psychological, or aesthetic forces that cause the +problems which the satirist condemns, and to recommend what can be done +to change these forces. If the satirist notes any pattern at all, it is +one of ineffective, unmoving abstraction and generality. + +One explanation for this deliberate avoidance of more profound issues +is not hard to find. An astonishing number of satires of this period +contain a large proportion of lines devoted to describing how wonderful +everything is. The widespread conviction that whatever is, in the England +of the late eighteenth century, is right, may have resulted from the +influence of _An Essay on Man_. Or the _Essay_ may have been popular +because it expressed ideas already in general acceptance. But whatever +the explanation is, the catch-phrases extracted from Pope's most popular +work become the touchstones of post-Augustan satire. + +The problem that the satirist faced in the sixties was, then, +formidable. The country was in upheaval but the conventions demanded +that the satirist say everything was nearly perfect. As a result, satire +tended toward personal whines, like _The Curate_, toward attacking +tiresomely obvious objects, like the superficial chit-chat of Lloyd's +_Conversation_, toward trivial quarrels, like Churchill's _Rosciad_, +toward broadly unimpeachable morals, like Johnson's _The Vanity of Human +Wishes_. It is understandable that many writers, such as Joseph Warton +and Christopher Smart, abandoned satire for various kinds of enthusiasm. + +Methodism lent itself to such satire. Methodists could be described as +unfortunate aberrants from an essentially good world, typical of those +bothersome fanatics and deviants at the fringe of society who keep this +world from being perfect. They were also logical heirs to the satire once +visited upon Dissenters but which diminished when Dissenters became more +restrained in their style of worship. (The Preface to one anti-Methodist +satire even takes pains to exclude "rational Dissenters" from its +target.) Many Methodists were followers of Calvin. These Methodists +brought out the old antagonisms against the Calvinist doctrine of +Election (or the popular version of it), directed against its severity, +its apparent encouragement of pride, and its antinomian implications. The +mass displays of emotion at Methodist meetings would be distasteful to +many people in most periods and probably were especially so in an age in +which rational behavior was particularly valued. And there were those +people who believed that Methodism, in spite of Wesley's arguments to the +contrary, led good members of the Church of England astray and threatened +religious stability. + +Yet all these causes do not explain the harshness of anti-Methodist +satire. No other subject during this period received such severe +condemnation. Wesley and Whitefield were accused of seducing their +female converts, of fleecing all their converts of money, of making +trouble solely out of envy or pride. Evan Lloyd is not so harsh nor +so implacably bigoted about any other subject as he is about Methodism. +He was an intimate friend of John Wilkes, the least bigoted of men. +Also, there are essential differences between the Dissenters of the +Restoration and the Methodists of the late eighteenth century that would +seem to lessen the antagonism toward the Methodists. To the satirists of +the Restoration, Dissenters were reminders of civil war, regicide, the +chaos that religious division could bring. Now the only threat of +religious war or major civil disturbance had come from the Jacobites, +and even that threat was safely in the past. It is notable that Swift, +Pope, and Gay tended to satirize Dissenters within the context of +larger problems. The assault on Methodists, then, is actually not a +continuation of anti-Dissenter satire but something new. Hence the whole +movement of anti-Methodist satire in the sixties and seventies has an +untypically violent tone which cannot be explained solely in terms of +satiric trends or religious attitudes. The explanation lies, I think, +partly in the social, political, and economic background. + +The Methodist movement was perhaps the most dramatic symptom (or at least +the symptom hardest to ignore) of the changes taking place in England. +The Methodist open-air services were needed because new industrial areas +had sprung up where there were no churches, and lay preachers were +necessary because of population shifts but also because of the increase +in population made possible by new agricultural and manufacturing +methods. The practice of taking lay preachers from many social classes +had obvious democratic implications. Wesley, in spite of his political +conservatism, challenged a number of widely-held, complacent aphorisms, +such as the belief that people are "poor only because they are idle."[3] +The mass emotionalism of the evangelical meetings were reminders that man +was not so rational as certain popular ideas tried to make him. Wesley's +insistence (with irritatingly good evidence) that he did no more than +adhere to the true doctrine of the Church of England strongly suggested +that the Church of England had strayed somewhere. (It is rather +interestingly paralleled by Wilkes's insistence that he only wanted to +return to the Declaration of Rights, a reminder that the government had +also strayed.) And Methodism, by its very existence and popularity, posed +the question of whether the Church of England, in its traditional form, +was capable of dealing with problems created by social and economic +changes. + +These social, economic, and political issues are touched upon by a number +of the anti-Methodist satirists. Most of these satirists, however, are +contented simply to complain about the lower class tone of the Methodist +movement, to note generally, as Dryden and Swift had noted before, that +Protestantism contained the seeds of mob rule. The anonymous author of +_The Saints_ fears "Their frantic pray'r [is] a mere _Decoy_ for _Mob_" +(p. 4) and the author[4] of _The Methodist and Mimic_ claims that +Whitefield's preaching sends "the Brainless Mob a gadding" (p. 15). Evan +Lloyd is the one anti-Methodist satirist who explores the larger +implications. + +Lloyd constructs his satire around the theme of general corruption, that +nothing is so virtuous that it cannot be spoiled either by man's weakness +or by time. The theme is common in the period and could have become +banal, except that Lloyd applies it to the corruption of the Church +and its manifestations in daily life, giving it an immediate, lively +reference. The Methodist practice of lay preachers, for example, Lloyd +treats as an instance of the collapse of the class system: + + Each vulgar Trade, each sweaty Brow + Is search'd.... + Hence ev'ry Blockhead, Knave, and Dunce, + Start into Preachers all at once (p. 29). + +Lloyd combines the language of theology, government, and civil order to +suggest a connection between recent riots, the excesses of the Earl of +Bute, the Protestant belief that religious concepts are easily understood +by all social classes, democracy, the emotional displays of Methodism, +and lay preachers: + + Hence Ignorance of ev'ry size, + Of ev'ry shape Wit can devise, + Altho' so dull it hardly knows, ... + When it is Day, or when 'tis Night, + Shall yet pretend to keep the Key + Of _God_'s dark Secrets, and display + His _hidden Mysteries_, as free + As if _God's privy Council_ He, + Shall to his Presence rush, and dare + To raise a _pious Riot_ there (pp. 29-30). + +Lloyd presents an essentially disorderly world in which chaos spreads +almost inevitably, in which riots, corrupt ministers, arrogant fools, +disrespectful lower classes, giddy middle classes, and lascivious upper +classes are barely kept in check by a system of social class, government, +and church. Now, with the checks withdrawn, lawyers and physicians spread +their own disorder even further as they: + + Quit their beloved wrangling _Hall_, + More loudly in a _Church_ to bawl: ... + And full as fervent, on their Knees, + For _Heav'n_ they pray, as once for _Fees_; ... + The _Physic-Tribe_ their Art resign, + And lose the _Quack_ in the _Divine_; ... + Of a _New-birth_ they prate, and prate + While _Midwifry_ is out of Date (pp. 30-31). + +He combines the language of tradesmen with the language of mythology and +theology to suggest, rather wittily and effectively, that disorder can be +commonplace and cosmic simultaneously: + + The _Bricklay'r_ throws his _Trowel_ by, + And now _builds Mansions in the Sky_; ... + The _Waterman_ forgets his _Wherry_, + And opens a _celestial Ferry_; ... + The _Fishermen_ no longer set + For _Fish_ the Meshes of their Net, + But catch, like _Peter_, _Men of Sin_, + For _catching_ is to _take them in_ (pp. 32-34). + +This spreading confusion is, however, not just a passing social problem +but one that results from many breasts being "tainted" and many hearts +"infected" (p. 34). The corruption is almost universal and results in +Wesley (as he actually did) selling "Powders, Draughts, and Pills." Madan +"the springs of Health _unlocks_,/ And by his Preaching cures the +_P_[_ox_]," (he was Chaplain of Lock Hospital) and Romaine: + + Pulls you by _Gravity up-Hill_, ... + By your _bad Deeds_ your _Faith_ you shew, + 'Tis but _believe_, and _up You go_ (p. 36). + +Lloyd treats the confusion between sexual desire and religious fervor +as another aspect of general human depravity, extending the satire +beyond the crude accusation of hypocrisy or cynicism. He argues that +the confusion is a part of the human condition, allowed to go out of +control by a religion that puts passion before reason. The Countess of +Huntingdon, "cloy'd with _carnal_ Bliss," longs "to taste how _Spirits_ +kiss." In his all-inclusive catalogue of "_Knaves_/ That crawl on +_Earth_" Lloyd includes "_Prudes_ that crowd to _Pews_,/ While their +_Thoughts_ ramble to the _Stews_" (p. 48). + +What makes Lloyd interesting, in spite of his many derivative ideas and +techniques, is inadvertently pointed out by the _Critical Review_, which +complains that "the author outmethodizes even Methodism itself."[5] That +the brutal tone of _The Methodist_ went beyond the license usually +permitted the satirists was recognized by Lloyd himself. At the +conclusion of the satire he asks God to halt the Methodist movement +by getting to its source: + + Quench the hot flame, O God, that Burns + And _Piety_ to _Phrenzy_ turns! + +And then, after a few lines, he applies the same terms to himself: + + But soft----my _Muse_! thy Breath recall---- + Turn not _Religion_'s Milk to Gall! + Let not thy _Zeal_ within thee nurse + A _holy Rage_! or _pious Curse_! + Far other is the _heav'nly Plan_, + Which the _Redeemer_ gave to Man (pp. 52-53). + +The satirist, as Robert C. Elliott points out, has always, in art, +satirized himself.[6] But there is here as throughout this satire, some +attempt to develop a style which will express the belief that the world +will always be disorderly and that the disorder stems from man's "Zeal +within." This condition of the world can be expressed satirically by a +personal, informal satire which recognizes and dramatizes just how +universal the corruption is and how commonplace its manifestations have +become. + +The informal, disorderly syntax, the colloquial diction, the chatty tone, +the run-on lines, the conscious roughness of meter and rhyme, may have +derived from Churchill, but they become here more relevant than in any +of Churchill's satires. They combine with the intemperate tone and the +satirist's concluding confession, his self-identification with the object +of satire, to create a sense of an unheroic satirist, one who does not +represent a highly commendable satiric alternative. Satire must now turn +its vision from the heroic, the apocalyptic, the broadly philosophical, +even from the depraved, and become exceedingly ordinary. It must +recognize that there is little hope in going back to lofty Augustan +ideals. For such subjects, it uses the impulsive tone of an +over-emotional satirist who is as flawed as the subject he satirizes +and still represents the best of a disordered world. + +Lloyd had attempted an autobiographical satire in _The Curate_. He failed +to create an important satire for a number of reasons, one of which was +that he tried to present himself as a high ideal, a belief that he +apparently held so weakly that the satire became merely petulant. Lloyd +corrected this error in _The Methodist_ and now seems, however briefly, +to have opened the way to a truly prophetic style of satire. + +After _The Methodist_ Lloyd wrote _Conversation_, a satire that not only +failed to fulfill the promise of _The Methodist_ but is more conservative +in theme and style than any of his earlier satires. + +After that work he produced little. He published an expanded version of +_The Power of the Pen_ and a dull ode printed in _The Annual Register_. +When William Kenrick, in _Love in the Suds_, implied that Garrick was +Isaac Bickerstaff's lover, Lloyd defended Garrick in _Epistle to David +Garrick_. Kenrick replied with _A Whipping for the Welch Parson_, an +ironic Dunciad-Variorum-type editing of Lloyd's _Epistle_, in which he +got much the better of Lloyd. Lloyd was no match for Kenrick at this sort +of thing. Except for these uninteresting productions and his convivial +friendship with Wilkes and Garrick, we hear not much more of Lloyd. + +We know so little about his life that we can only speculate why he failed +to follow up the promise of _The Methodist_; why, after favorable reviews +from the journals[7] and the flattering friendship of famous men, he was +not encouraged to continue a career that was as promising as the early +career of many famous satirists. The explanation may lie solely in his +personality. Perhaps the moderate success he achieved and the financial +rewards it brought were enough for him. + +Another explanation is suggested by the conservative ideas and style of +_Conversation_, which are more like Pope's than are the ideas and style +of any earlier satire of Lloyd's. In this satire he explicitly repudiates +his older, freer critical dicta in both theory and practice: + + Tho' this be _Form_--yet bend to _Form_ we must, + Fools _with it_ please, _without it_ Wits disgust (p. 3). + +He uses mostly end-stop couplets, parallel constructions, Augustan +diction and similes. Apparently, he began his rejection of his new ideas +and style immediately after _The Methodist_ and before his 1766-1767 +outburst of satire-writing was over. + +Lloyd, in writing _The Methodist_, seems to have come as close as any +satirist before Blake and the writers of _The Anti-Jacobin_ to seeing the +problems England and the world were headed toward, to recognizing how +genuinely volatile English society was in the middle of the century, and +to creating a style which could deal with those problems satirically. It +may be that he got some realization that his own long passages in _The +Methodist_ praising this best of all possible worlds (pp. 16-20) and his +invocation to the "heav'nly Plan" at the conclusion made no sense, that +they were contradicted by other passages in the same satire, that England +and the world were changing with enormous rapidity, and that the satirist +would have to create a new style to express the tremendous economic, +political, social, and religious problems that were coming into being. It +may be that getting such a faint notion he withdrew into artistic +conservatism, into conviviality, and into silence. + + +Temple University + + + + +NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION + + +[1] For a survey of all Lloyd's work see Cecil J. L. Price, _A + Man of Genius and a Welch Man_ (University of Swansea, Wales, + 1963). Lloyd is the subject of an unpublished dissertation, + _The Moral Beau_, by Paul E. Parnell (New York University, 1956). + Two short passages from _The Methodist_ are included in _The Penguin + Book of Satirical Verse_, ed. Edward Lucie-Smith (Baltimore, 1967). + +[2] Most recently, Albert M. Lyles, _Methodism Mocked_ (London, 1960). + +[3] Journal, 8 February 1753, quoted by A. R. Humphreys, _The Augustan + World_ (New York, 1963), p. 20. + +[4] The pseudonymous author, Peter Paragraph, is identified by Halkett + and Laing, _Dictionary of Anonymous and Pseudonymous English + Literature_, as James Makittrick Adair. Adair did write some works + under that pseudonym but probably did not write _The Methodist and + Mimic_. Lyles, _op. cit._, p. 129n., suggests that the author may + be Samuel Foote, in whose play, _The Orators_, a character, Peter + Paragraph, appears, probably representing George Faulkner. Robert + Lloyd, in "The Cobbler of Cripplegate's Letter," hints that Peter + Paragraph may be Bonnel Thornton. + +[5] _The Critical Review_, XXIII (1766), pp. 75-77. + +[6] _The Power of Satire_ (Princeton, 1960), p. 222 and _passim_. + +[7] The Methodist was reviewed by _The Monthly Review_, XXV (1766), + pp. 319-321, and _Gentleman's Magazine_, XXXVI (1766), p. 335. + _Conversation_ was reviewed more favorably by _The Monthly Review_, + XXXVII (1767), p. 394, and by _The Critical Review_ XXIV (1767), + pp. 341-343. _The Critical Review_ compared him with Swift. + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + +This facsimile of _The Methodist_ (1766) is reproduced from a copy [840. +k. 10. (18.)] in the British Museum by kind permission of the Trustees. + + + + +THE +METHODIST. + +A +POEM. + +BY +E Lloyd [HW: Signature] + +AUTHOR OF +The Powers of the Pen, and The Curate. + + +LONDON: +PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR; +And Sold by RICHARDSON and URQUHART, under the +ROYAL-EXCHANGE, CORNHILL. + +MDCCLXVI. + + + + +THE METHODIST. + + + Nothing, search all creation round, + Nothing so _firmly good_ is found, + Whose substance, with such closeness knit, + _Corruption_'s _Touch_ will not admit; + But, spite of all incroaching stains, + Its native purity retains: + Whose texture will nor warp, nor fade, + Though moths and weather shou'd invade, + Which _Time_'s sharp tooth cannot corrode, + Proof against _Accident_ and _Mode_; + And, maugre each assailing dart, + Thrown by the hand of Force, or Art, + Remains (let Fate do what it will) + _Simple_ and _uncorrupted_ still. + + _Virtue_, of constitution nice, + Quickly degen'rates into _Vice_; + Change but the _Person_, _Place_, and _Time_, + And what was _Merit_ turns to _Crime_. + _Wisdom_, which men with so much pain, + With so much weariness attain, + May in a little moment quit, + And abdicate the throne of Wit, + And leave, a vacant seat, the brain, + For Folly to usurp and reign. + Should you but discompose the tide, + On which _Ideas_ wont to ride, + _Ferment_ it with a _yeasty Storm_, + Or with high _Floods of Wine_ deform; + Altho' _Sir Oracle_ is he, + Who is as wise, as wise can be, + In one short minute we shall find + The wise man gone, a fool behind. + _Courage_, that is all nerve and heart, + That dares confront Death's brandish'd dart, + That dares to single Fight defy + The stoutest Hector of the sky, + Whose mettle ne'er was known to slack, + Nor wou'd on thunder turn his back; + How small a matter may controul, + And sooth the fury of his soul! + Shou'd this intrepid Mars, his clay + Dilute with nerve-relaxing Tea, + Thin broths, thin whey, or water-gruel, + He is no longer fierce and cruel, + But mild and gentle as a dove, + The _Hero_'s melted down to _Love_. + The _juices_ soften'd, (here we note + More on the _juices_ than the _Coat_ + Depends, to make a valiant Mars + Rich in the heraldry of scars) + The _Man_ is _soften'd_ too, and shews + No fondness for a bloody nose. + When _Georgy S--k----le shunn'd the Fray_, + He'd swill'd a little too much Tea. + _Chastity_ melts like sun-kiss'd snow, + When Lust's hot wind begins to blow. + Let but that _horrid Creature, Man_, + Breathe on a lady thro' her fan, + Her _Virtue_ thaws, and by and bye + Will of the _falling Sickness_ die. + Lo! _Beauty_, still more transitory, + Fades in the mid-day of its glory! + For _Nature_ in her kindness swore, + That she who kills, shall kill no more; + And in pure mercy does erase + Each killing feature in the face; + Plucks from the cheek the damask rose, + E'en at the moment that it blows; + Dims the bright lustre of those eyes + To which the Gods wou'd sacrifice; + Dries the moist lip, and pales its hue, + And brushes off its honied dew; + Flattens the proudly swelling chest, + Furrows the round elastic breast, + And all the Loves that on it play'd, + Are in a tomb of wrinkles laid; + Recalls those charms, which she design'd + To _please_, and not _bewitch_ Mankind; + But with too delicate a touch, + Heightening the _Ornaments_ too much, + She finds her daughters can convert + Blessings to curses, good to hurt, + Proof of parental love to give, + She blots them out that Man may live. + + The hour will come (which let not me + Indulgent Nature, live to see!) + The hour will come, when _Chloe_'s form + Shall with its beauty feed the worm; + That face where troops of Cupids throng, + Whose charms first warm'd me into song, + Shall wrinkle, wither, and decay, + To Age, and to Disease, a prey! + _Chloe_, in whom are so combin'd + The charms of body and of mind, + As might to Earth elicit _Jove_, + Thinking his Heav'n well left for Love; + Perfection as she is, the hour + Will come, when she must feel the pow'r + Of _Time_, and to his wither'd arms, + Resign the rifling of her charms! + Must veil her beauties in a cloud, + A grave her bed, her robe a shroud! + When all her glowing, vivid bloom, + Must fade and wither in the tomb! + When she who bears the ensigns now, + Of Beauty's Priestess on her brow, + Shall to th' abhorr'd embrace of Death + Give up the sweetness of her breath! + When worms--but stop, _Description_, there-- + My heart cannot the picture bear-- + Sickens to think there is a day, + When _Chloe_ will be made a prey + To Death, a piece-meal feast for him + With rav'nous jaw to tear each limb, + And feature after feature eat, + While _Beauty_ only serves for _Meat_-- + Wretched to know that this is true, + Forbear t' anticipate the view! + Hence, _Observation_!--take your leave!-- + And kindly, _Memory_, deceive! + And when some forty years are fled, + And age has on her beauties fed, + Dear _Self-Delusion_! lend thy skill + To fancy she is _Chloe_ still! + + _Cities_ and _Empires_ will decay, + And to _Corruption_ fall a prey! + _Athens_, of arts the native land, + Cou'd not the stroke of Time withstand; + There Serpents hiss, and ravens croak, + Where _Socrates_ and _Plato_ spoke. + + Proud _Troy_ herself (as all things must) + Is crumbled into native dust; + Is now a pasture, where the beast + Strays for his vegetable feast, + Old _Priam_'s royal palace now + May couch the ox, the ass, the cow.-- + + _Rome_, city of imperial worth, + The mighty mistress of the earth; + _Rome_, that gave law to all the world, + Is now to blank Destruction hurl'd!-- + Is now a sepulchre, a tomb, + To tell the stranger, "Here was _Rome_."-- + + View the _West Abbey_! there we see + How frail a thing is royalty! + Where crowns and sceptres worms supply, + And kings and queens, like lumber lie. + The _Tombs themselves_ are worn away, + And own the empire of _Decay_, + Mouldering like the royal dust, + Which to preserve they have in trust. + Nor has the _Marble_ more withstood + The rage of _Time_, than _Flesh and Blood_! + The _King of Stone_ is worn away, + As well as is the _King of Clay_-- + Here lies a _King without a Nose_, + And there a _Prince without his Toes_; + Here on her back a _Royal Fair_ + Lies, but a little worse for wear; + Those lips, whose touch cou'd almost turn + Old age to youth, and make it burn; + To which young kings were proud to kneel, + Are kick'd by every Schoolboy's heel; + Struck rudely by the _Showman's Wand_, + And crush'd by every callous Hand: + Here a _puissant Monarch_ frowns + In menace high to rival Crowns; + He threatens--but will do no harm-- + Our _Monarch_ has not left an arm. + Thus all _Things_ feel the gen'ral curse, + _That all Things must with Time grow worse_. + + But your Philosophers will say, + _Best Things grow worst when they decay_. + And many facts they have at hand + To prove it, shou'd you proofs demand. + As if _Corruption_ shut her jaw, + And scorn'd to cram her filthy maw, + With aught but dainties rich and rare, + And morsels of the choicest fare; + As garden Birds are led to bite, + Where'er the fairest fruits invite. + If _Phoebus'_ rays too fiercely burn, + The _richest Wines_ to _sourest_ turn: + And they who living _highly fed_, + Will breed a _Pestilence when dead_. + Thus _Aldermen_, who at each Feast, + Cram Tons of Spices from the East, + Whose leading wish, and only plan, + Is to learn how to _pickle Man_; + Who more than vie with _AEgypt_'s art, + And make themselves a _human Tart_, + A _walking Pastry-Shop_, a _Gut_, + Shambles by Wholesale to inglut; + And gorge each high-concocted Mess + The art of Cookery can dress: + Yet spite of all, when _Death_ thinks fit + To take them off, lest t' other bit + Shou'd burst these _living Mummies_, able + Neither to eat, nor quit the Table; + Whether He Dropsy sends or Gout, + To fetch them by the Shoulders out; + Tho' living they were _Salt_ and _Spice_, + The carcase is not over nice; + And all may find, who have a _Nose_, + _Dead Aldermen_ are not a rose. + + This reas'ning only serves to shew, + The world call'd _Natural_, is so. + But various instances proclaim, + 'Tis in the _moral World_ the same. + Thus _Woman_, Nature's _chastest_ work, + _Lust-struck_, out-paramours the Turk; + Tho' _gentle_ as the suckling Child, + _Enrag'd_, than famish'd Wolves more wild; + A more fell minister of _Death_-- + _Rime_ gives the instance in _Mackbeth_. + + _Reason herself_, that _sober Dame_, + So mild, so temperate, so tame, + Her head once turn'd, and giddy grown, + Raving with phrenzy not her own, + Plays madder pranks, more full of spleen + Than any Hoyden of sixteen. + Whether she burns with _Love_ or _Hate_, + Or grows with _baseless Hopes_ elate, + With _Desperation_ is forlorn, + Or with imagin'd horrors torn, + If on _Ambition_'s swelling tide, + Her crazy bark from side to side, + Reels like a drunkard, tempest-tost, + Or in the _Gulph of Pride_ is lost; + Whate'er the _leading Passion_ be, + That works the Soul's anxiety, + In each _Extreme_ th' effect is bad, + _Sense_ grows diseas'd, and _Reason_ mad. + + Why shou'd the Muse of _Angels_ tell + Turn'd into _Devils_ when they fell? + Why search the Chronicles of _Hell_, + While _Earth_ examples it as well? + Why talk of _Satan_, while we see + Each day some new Apostacy? + _Tories_ to _Whigs_ convert, and _Whigs_, + _Mere Ministerial Whirlegigs_, + Turn'd by the hand of _Int'rest_, take + The _Tory-part_, for Lucre's sake. + _Patriots_ turn _Placemen_, and support + Against their Country's good the Court; + Are bought with _Pensions_ to retire, + When drooping Kingdoms most require + Their aid----Tho' here the Muse wou'd fain + _Except_ ONE of the _pension'd Train_, + (_One_ meritorious 'bove the rest, + A _patriot Minister_, confest) + Yet strictest honour can't acquit + That _Pensioner_, who once was _P----_. + Instance on instance to my view + Come rushing, of the changeling crew, + That I could quarrel with my Nature, + To think that Man is such a Creature-- + And are we all a fickle tribe, + Venal to ev'ry golden bribe? + Is there not one of honour found, + In all the List of _Placemen_ found? + Yes--_one_ there is, in perils tried, + Yet never known to _change his Side_, + Or _Principles_--nor think it strange, + He ne'er had _Principles_ to change, + And for a _Side_ (the proof is new) + He's _none_, because that _he has two_. + Throw him from _Party_'s giddy heights, + A _Cat in Politics_ he lights + Ever upon his feet; his heart + Clings both to _Whig_ and _Tory-part_; + Is _this_, is _that_, is _both_, or _neither_, + And still keeps shifting with the Weather. + Who does not know that _T--s--d_'s he, + That reads the _Book of Ministry_? + + Thus let us turn where'er we will, + _Each Machiavel_'s a _Changeling_ still. + But tho' among all _Nature_'s works + The seed of foul _Corruption_ lurks, + Yet no where is it known to bear + So vile a Crop on Ground so fair, + As when upon _Religion_'s root + _It raises Diabolic Fruit_. + + When the Almighty Father's Love + Call'd Things to Being, from above + Millions of winged _Blessings_ flew, + Sent from his right hand, to bedew + The new-born Earth, and from their wings + Shed good on all _created Things_. + Precious and various tho' the store + Which down to Earth these Legates bore, + That _Heav'nly Spark_ we _Reason call_, + Was far the richest boon of all. + + By _this_ we find _th' Almighty Cause_ + From whom the World its Being draws; + _By whom Earth_'s plenteous Table's spread, + At which each living Creature's fed; + _Who_ gave the _Breath of Life_, and whence + This fine _Variety_ of _Sense_; + _Whose Hands_ unfold the azure sky, + Sublimely pleasing to _the Eye_; + _Who_ tun'd the feather'd Songster's throat, + Giving such softness to his note, + To fill the _Ear_ with dulcet sound, + And pour sweet Music all around; + Who on the teeming Branches plac'd + Such various Fruit to please the _Taste_; + What bounteous Hand perfum'd the _Rose_, + And ev'ry scented Flow'r that blows, + And wafts its fragrance thro' the Vale, + Courting the _Smell_ in ev'ry gale, + To _whom_ it is we owe so much + Substantial pleasure in the _Touch_; + And _whence_, superior to the whole, + Those raptures that transport _the Soul_; + _This_ gives our Gratitude to glow + To him, from whom such Blessings flow; + This teaches Man his _moral Part_, + And grafts _Religion_ in the Heart. + + _Glory to God, good Will to Man, + And Peace on Earth_, compos'd the plan, + For which _Religion_ first came down, + And brought to Earth a _heav'nly Crown_. + Better her Purpose to complete, + And _Satan_'s Malice to defeat, + A Troop of _holy Genii_ came, + Co-workers in the glorious Scheme. + To each a scroll the Goddess gave, + On which these lines She did engrave: + "Go, teach the sons of Men to raise + Their voice unto their _Maker_'s praise. + Go, call forth _Charity_ to meet + Distress that seeks her in the Street; + Bid her the lame with Legs supply, + And be unto the blind an Eye; + A Mantle o'er the naked throw, + And reach a healing hand to Woe; + Visit the bed where Sickness lies, + And wipe the tears from Orphans eyes; + Bid her Affliction's hour beguile, + And teach the tear-worn Cheek to smile; + Bid her send Comfort to expell + Grief from the lonely Widow's Cell; + Make blunt the arrows of Mischance, + And ope the eyes of Ignorance; + To those lost Pilgrims point the Way, + Who in _Sin_'s tenfold Darkness stray, + Recall them from _Hell_'s thickest night, + And shew _Salvation_'s glorious Light; + For thus the World that Peace shall find, + For which it was by _God_ design'd."-- + + Such the commands _Religion_ gave, + When first she came the World to save, + Such the attendants in her Train, + When She began her holy Reign. + And when _Messiah_'s gracious Love + Urg'd him to leave the _Realms_ above, + Urg'd him to quit his _heav'nly Throne_, + His People's Trespass to atone, + And, tho' so long they had withstood + His Will, to wash them with his Blood; + The great Command he did renew, + To _give to God, and Man his due_; + Bade the bright _Sun of Faith_ arise, + And open'd Heav'n to mortal eyes, + Leaving _Religion_ on the Earth, + More fair and pure than at her Birth.-- + + How mutilated now and marr'd, + Deform'd, distorted, mangled, scarr'd! + Thro' _modern Conventicles_ trace + The Goddess, you'll not know her face: + The _holy Genii_ all are fled, + And _Sprites_ and _Dev'ls_ come in their stead. + And now a counterfeiting Dame + Usurps _Religion_'s sacred Name, + But no more like in _Heart_ or _Face_, + Than _F--x_'s deeds to deeds of Grace. + Visit her at her _T-tt--m_ Seat, + You'll find she is an errant Cheat. + For _Satan_, Man's invet'rate foe, + Whose greatest joy is human woe, + Repining at the heav'nly Plan, + That promis'd so much Good to Man, + Us'd all his Malice, Wit, and Pow'r, + The World's great Blessings to devour. + Well the _malicious Spirit_ knew + Whence _Man_ his chief resources drew + Of Happiness, and saw confest, + Where all was good, _Religion_ best; + And at her unpolluted Heart + He aim'd his most envenom'd Dart. + He knew the Interest of _Hell_ + Cou'd never on the _Earth_ go well, + While _pure Religion_ did maintain + O'er Man a sanctimonious reign. + With her he wag'd malicious War, + He might, if not destroy her, mar + Her Face; might with false Lights misguide, + And make her Combat on his side. + Highly did his _Ambition_ burn + Heav'n's Arms against itself to turn. + Nor would his _Malice_ triumph less, + To _damn_ where _God_ design'd to _bless_. + + For this _the Fiend_ to Earth ascends, + To try his Int'rest with his Friends. + Long in his fiery Chariot hurl'd, + He had explor'd the pendent World; + Long had he search'd without avail, + Each _Meeting_, _Dungeon_, _Court_, and _Jail_, + Each _Mart of Villainy_, where _Vice_ + Presides, and _Virtue_ bears no Price, + Where _Fraud_, _Hypocrisy_, and _Lies_ + Are selling while the Devil buys. + Long had he search'd, but could not find + An _Agent_ suited to his Mind, + Who cou'd transact his Business well, + And do on Earth the work of Hell; + That he might at his leisure go, + And manage his Affairs below.-- + + Tir'd and despairing of a Friend + On whom he safely might depend, + At _T-tt--m_ he alights from Air-- + _Magus_, that _Sorcerer_, was there. + Pleas'd _Satan_ somewhat nearer drew, + Look'd thro' him at a single view, + Bless'd his good Luck, and grinn'd aghast-- + "'Tis well, for I have found at last, + The Thing I long have sought, in _Thee_, + _An Agent in Iniquity_. + Thus let me mark Thee for my own, + And from henceforth for _mine_ be known." + + Then with out-stretched claws his Eyes + He _twisted_ diff'rent ways--the _Skies_ + Are watch'd by _one_, and (strange to tell!) + The _other_ is the Guard of _Hell_. + Then thus--"'Tis fit thy Eyes shou'd roll, + _Cross_ as the purpose of thy Soul, + Fit that they look a diff'rent way, + Like what You _do_, and what You _say_; + Thy _Eye-balls_ now are pois'd and hung, + As even as thy _Heart_ and _Tongue_-- + Prosper--to _me_, to _Hell_ (he cried) + Be true, but false to all beside. + _Riches are mine_--I will repay + For ev'ry Soul you lead astray-- + Give out thyself a Light to shew + Which way 'tis best to Heav'n to go; + But lead the Pilgrims wrong, and shine + An _Ignis fatuus_ of mine-- + Draw them thro' bog, thro' brake, thro' mire, + I'll dry them at a _rousing Fire_." + + _Magus_ complacent smil'd--his Eyes + Twinkled with signs of Joy, one flies + Upward, and t'other down, like Scales, + Where this ascends, when that prevails-- + Then _thrice_ he turn'd upon his heel, + And swore Allegiance to the _De'el_-- + + Right faithfully his _Oath_ he kept, + And might each Night before he slept + Boast of his labours to maintain, + And spread abroad his _Master_'s Reign; + Might boast the magic of his Rod + To whip away the _Love of God_, + For all of _God_ he makes appear + Has nought to _love_, but all to _fear_. + That debt, which _Gratitude_ each day + Paying, wou'd still own much to pay; + Instead of _Duty_ freely paid, + A _Tyrant_'s _hard Exaction_'s made. + Fitted the simple to cajole, + First of his Wits, and then his Soul, + He urges fifty false Pretences, + Preaching his Hearers from their Senses. + He knows his _Master_'s Realm so well, + His Sermons are a _Map of Hell_, + An _Ollio_ made of _Conflagration_, + Of _Gulphs of Brimstone_, and _Damnation_, + _Eternal Torments_, _Furnace_, _Worm_, + _Hell-Fire_, a _Whirlwind_, and a _Storm_, + With _Mammon_, _Satan_, and _Perdition_, + And _Beelzebub_ to help the Dish on; + _Belial_ and _Lucifer_, and all + The _nick-Names_ which _old Nick_ we call-- + But he has ta'en especial care, + To have nor _Sense_ nor _Reason_ there. + A thousand scorching Words beside, + Over his tongue as glibly slide, + Familiar as a glass of wine, + Or a Tobacco-pipe on mine; + That You wou'd swear he was compleater, + Than _Powell_, as a _Fire-Eater_. + + Virgins he will seduce astray, + Only to shew the shortest Way + To _Heaven_, and because it lies + Above the _Zodiac_ in the Skies, + That they _may better see the Track_, + He lays them down _upon their Back_. + Domestic Peace he can destroy, + And the confusion view with Joy, + Children from Parents he can draw, + What's _Conscience_?--he is safe from _Law_-- + The closest Union can divide, + Take Husbands from their Spouses' side, + But it turns out to better Use, + Wives from their Husbands to seduce; + And as their Journey lies _up-Hill_, + Ev'ry Incumbrance were an Ill; + And lest their Speed shou'd be withstood, + He takes their _Money_--_for their Good_. + + Such is the Agent _Satan_ chose, + _Religion_'s Progress to oppose-- + Too great the Task for _one_ was thought, + And _under-Agents_ must be sought-- + On this high Enterprize intent, + A troop of _evil Sprites_ he sent, + Commission'd, wheresoe'er they found + _Hearts hollow, rotten, and unsound_, + Within those Breasts accurs'd to dwell, + Teaching the Liturgy of _Hell_. + Big with the Charge th' infernal Crew + To their belov'd Appointment flew; + With busy search thro' ev'ry Class, + Thro' ev'ry Rank of Men they pass, + In ev'ry Class of Men they find + Some _Hearts_ corrupted to their Mind, + Ev'ry Profession they explore, + Ev'ry Profession gives them more; + The higher Functions ransack'd, now + Each vulgar Trade, each sweaty Brow + Is search'd, and in them all were found, + _Some hollow, rotten, and unsound_. + In each depraved Bosom dwell + These _Sprites_, nor miss their native _Hell_. + Hence ev'ry Blockhead, Knave, and Dunce, + Start into Preachers all at once. + Hence Ignorance of ev'ry size, + Of ev'ry shape Wit can devise, + Altho' so dull it hardly knows, + Which are its Fingers, which its Toes, + Which is the left Hand, which the Right, + When it is Day, or when 'tis Night, + Shall yet pretend to keep the Key + Of _God_'s dark Secrets, and display + His _hidden Mysteries_, as free + As if _God_'s _privy Council_ He, + Shall to his Presence rush, and dare + To raise a _pious Riot_ there. + + _Lawyers_ (a Commutation strange!) + _Coke Littleton_ for _Bible_ change; + Quit their beloved wrangling _Hall_, + More loudly in a _Church_ to bawl: + _Statutes at large_ are thrown aside, + And now the _Testament_'s their guide; + And full as fervent, on their Knees, + For _Heav'n_ they pray, as once for _Fees_; + _Plaintiff_, _Defendant_, and _my Lord_, + Are banish'd, and now _Faith_'s the Word, + Of _Briefs_ no longer now they dream, + _Religion_ is the only Theme. + The _Physic-Tribe_ their Art resign, + And lose the _Quack_ in the _Divine_; + _Galen_ lies on the Shelf unread, + A _Pray'r-Book_ open in its stead; + _Salvation_ now is all the _Cant_, + _Salvation_ is the _only_ Want. + "_Throw Physic to the Dogs_," they cry, + 'Twill never bring you to the Sky. + Of a _New-birth_ they prate, and prate + While _Midwifry_ is out of Date; + Let Fevers, Agues, take their turn, + To freeze the Patient, or to burn, + In vain he seeks the Physic Tribe, + No _Recipe_ will they prescribe, + But what is sovereign to controul + The Maladies that hurt the Soul. + And tho' while _Body-quacks_, with _Pill_ + Or _Bolus_, 'twas their Trade to kill, + More miserably still, alack! + For the _diseased Soul_ they _quack_. + + The _Sons of War_ sometimes are known + To fight with Weapons not their own, + Ceasing the _Sword of Steel_ to wield, + They take _Religion_'s _Sword and Shield_. + + Ev'ry _Mechanic_ will commence + _Orator_, without _Mood_ or _Tense_. + _Pudding_ is _Pudding_ still, they know, + Whether it has a Plumb or no; + So, tho' the Preacher has no skill, + A _Sermon_ is a _Sermon_ still. + + The _Bricklay'r_ throws his _Trowel_ by, + And now _builds Mansions in the Sky_; + The _Cobbler_, touch'd with _holy Pride_, + Flings his _old Shoes_, and _Last_ aside, + And now devoutly sets about + Cobbling of _Souls_ that _ne'er wear out_; + The _Baker_, now a _Preacher_ grown, + Finds Man _lives not by Bread alone_, + And now his Customers he feeds + With _Pray'rs_, with _Sermons_, _Groans_ and _Creeds_; + The _Tinman_, mov'd by Warmth within, + _Hammers_ the _Gospel_, just like _Tin_; + _Weavers inspir'd_ their _Shuttles_ leave, + _Sermons_, and _flimsy Hymns_ to weave; + _Barbers_ unreap'd will leave the Chin, + To trim, and shave the _Man within_; + The _Waterman_ forgets his _Wherry_, + And opens a _celestial Ferry_; + The _Brewer_, bit by Phrenzy's Grub, + The _Mashing_ for the _Preaching Tub_ + Resigns, _those Waters_ to explore, + Which if You drink, you _thirst no more_; + The _Gard'ner_, weary of his Trade, + Tir'd of the Mattock, and the Spade, + Chang'd to _Apollos_ in a Trice, + _Waters_ the _Plants of Paradise_; + The _Fishermen_ no longer set + For _Fish_ the Meshes of their Net, + But catch, like _Peter_, _Men of Sin_, + For _catching_ is to _take them in_. + + Well had the wand'ring Spirits sped, + And thro' the World their Poison spread, + Made Lodgments in each tainted Breast; + And each infected Heart possess'd. + + The _wayward Bus'ness_ being done, + _Satan_ to make his Choice begun + Of _under-Ministers_, to do + What _One_ cou'd not be equal to. + + A _second Agent_, like the first, + Who on _Daemoniac Milk_ was nurst, + Had _Moorfields_ trusted to his Care, + For _Satan_ keeps _an Office_ there. + _Lean_ is the _Saint_, and _lank_, to shew + That _Flesh and Blood to Heav'n can't go_; + His Hair like _Candles_ hangs, a sign + How bright his _inward Candles_ shine. + + Of _Satan_'s _Agents_ these _the Chief_, + A thousand others lend Relief, + And take some labour off their Hands, + Each as th' _internal Sprite_ commands: + But working with a _diff'rent Spell_, + They lead by various Ways to _Hell_. + + Sickens the Soul? and is its state + With _Sin_'s Disease grown desperate? + To divers Quacks you may apply, + And _special Nostrums_ of them buy. + _Tottenham_'s the best accustom'd Place, + There _Magus squints_ Men into _Grace_. + _W-s--y_ sells Powders, Draughts, and Pills, + Sov'reign against all sorts of Ills, + _Assurance_ charms away the Fit, + Or at least makes it intermit-- + _M-d--n_ the springs of Health _unlocks_, + And by his Preaching cures the _P----_ + _R-m--ne_ works greater Wonders still, + Pulls you by _Gravity up-Hill_, + And for whate'er you do _amiss_, + Rewards you with _celestial Bliss_; + By your _bad Deeds_ your _Faith_ you shew, + 'Tis but _believe_, and _up You go_. + _B--rr--s_ and _W-r--r_ set up Shop, + To sell _Religion_'s _Pill and Drop_, + They teach their Patients how to fly + On _Voice_ and _Action_ to the Sky. + One of the _Magi of the East_, + A _little perking, puppet-Priest_, + Has got the _Harlequino_-way, + His Patients Heav'nward to convey; + And their Salvation to advance, + A _Jig_ will _at the Altar dance_. + + Such were the _Plenipo_'s in _Town_, + Who serv'd the _Diabolic_ Crown. + Not far remov'd, a _female Friend_ + Gave Proofs, that _Satan_ might depend + On her best Service, and support, + For what serv'd him, to her was Sport. + _H----_, cloy'd with _carnal_ Bliss, + Longing to taste how _Spirits_ kiss, + Bids _Chapels_ for her _Saints_ arise, + Which are but _Bagnios_ in Disguise; + Where She may suck her _T----_'s Breath, + Expiring in _seraphic_ Death. + + That _Satan_ better might succeed, + Of _other Agents_ he had need, + His _Country-Int'rest_ to support, + While _Dodd_ was _preaching_ to the Court. + The Town was left, and now his Flight + Bore to the _North_ the horrid _Sprite_; + Now had he travers'd many a League, + And felt, as _Spirits_ feel, Fatigue, + When, in a dark, romantic Wood, + In which an antique Mansion stood, + He spied, close to a Hovel-door, + A _Saint_ conversing with his _Whore_. + Double he seem'd, and worn with Age, + Little adapted to engage + In _Love_'s hot War, too dry his Trunk + To cope with a lascivious Punk; + So humble too he seem'd, You'd swear, + _Humility_ herself was there; + So like a _Sawyer_ too he _bows_, + You'd think that he was _Meekness'_ Spouse; + But _Satan_ read his _Visage-lines_, + And found some favourable Signs, + That this _meek Saint_ might, _in the Dark_, + Make his _Infernalship_ a _Clerk_; + Tho' muffled in _Religion_'s Cloak + So close, that it might almost choak + A _Pharisee_, it might be still + Only a _Cloak_ to doff at Will; + His _Speech_ might be an acted Part, + A Language foreign to his _Heart_. + He knew, that tho' upon his _Tongue_, + _Religion_, a mere _Cant-word_, hung, + He might forget it in his _Work_, + And be at _Heart_ a very _Turk_. + + _Finesse_ and _Trick_ wou'd ne'er succeed, + If Men wou'd only learn to read, + To read the Lines of _Nature_'s Pen, + Drawn in the _Countenance of Men_, + Where Truth speaks out distinct and clear, + If we had but the Trick to hear. + + So far'd it with _our Saint_, while He + Wou'd seem downright _Humility_, + Some honest Features cry'd aloud, + "Our Master is of Spirit proud." + Pass him with Bonnet on, his Lip + Will hang as low as to his Hip; + His bloated Eye its Venom darts, + And from its gloomy Socket starts; + And if the _Body_'s frame we scan, + He cannot be an _upright Man_. + And there are Proofs, from which we see + His _Body_ and his _Soul_ agree. + Altho' he is as fond of _Pray'rs_, + As Country Girls of Country Fairs; + Yet shou'd he in the Church-yard spy + Some _tempting Wanton_ passing by, + E'en at the Moment that his Knee + Is bent in Sign of _Piety_, + Quick his _Devotion_ leaves the _Heart_, + And settles in some _other Part_; + The Book of _Pray'r_ is shut, and _Heav'n_ + For the dear Charms of _Coelia_ giv'n. + + Th' _Arch-Fiend_ this _saintly Sinner_ spied, + And with malicious Pleasure ey'd, + Well pleas'd to think that he had found + Such a _Hell-Factor_ above Ground; + And thus began th' infernal Sprite-- + "_Libidinoso!_ if I'm right! + Art thou that Son of mine on Earth, + Whose deeds so loud proclaim thy Birth? + Of whom so many Strumpets tell + Such Tales as get Thee Fame in _Hell_? + But Children know not whence they spring, + Whether by Beggar got, or King; + Yet I by _certain Marks_ can know, + Whether Thou art _my Child_, or no. + Uncase--and let me see your Waist-- + For there are private Tokens plac'd, + By which _my own_ I know--if there + No secret Lines of mine appear, + I claim Thee not--but if I see + The two _Initials_ _F_ and _P_, + Then art Thou _mine_--nay, never start-- + And _Heav'n_ can claim _in Thee_ no Part"-- + + And now his sapless Trunk he stripp'd, + Like Culprits sentenc'd to be whipp'd, + When lo! th' _Initials_ rose to View, + And prov'd the Fiend's Conjecture true. + And all his Waist (detested Brand!) + Was scribbled with the _Dev'l's short Hand_; + Was mark'd with _Whoredom_, _Lust_, and _Letchery_, + _Malice_, _Hypocrisy_, and _Treachery_, + With _Envy_, _Lying_, and _Betraying_, + With _Fasting_, _Wenching_, _Fiddling_, _Praying_, + And all the _Catalogue of Sin_ + Deeply engraven in his Skin-- + Pleas'd the _grim Pow'r_ survey'd, and smil'd, + Embrac'd and said--"My darling Child, + Blest was the Hour, and blest the Spot, + Where Thou, _my 'Bidin_, wert begot. + Know then, you're not what You profess, + Her Son, whose Lands you do possess; + No--Thou'rt _my wayward Son_, a Witch + Litter'd thee in a loathsome Ditch; + And (for all Creatures love the Young + Which from their proper Loins are sprung) + To this old Mansion thee convey'd, + And in an Infant's Cradle laid: + And when the _Sorc'ress_ plac'd thee there, + She stole away the _native Heir_-- + Right well hast Thou, my Boy, repaid + The _Obligations_ on thee laid, + And to thy Parents' Int'rest true + Hast prov'd thy Fortunes were thy due-- + Go on--and, if thou canst, do more + (But 't may not be) than heretofore-- + Keep the same Path You always trod, + And be an Enemy to _God_; + Apply your Fortune to oppress, + And harrass _Virtue_ with Distress; + To hide your Blemishes use Paint, + To screen the _Villain_ play the _Saint_; + Affect _Religion_, _Church_ frequent, + Kneel, _seem_ to pray, and keep up _Lent_-- + _Charity_ too must be display'd, + But _Charity in Masquerade_; + Give _Alms_--but not to those that need, + But only for the _Gallows feed_; + Whene'er you meet a _preaching Thief_, + Be prompt to reach him out Relief; + If _Liars_, _Flatt'rers_, _Pandars_, _Pimps_, + Or any of my vagrant Imps, + Approach Thee, to thy Mansion take, + And give them Welcome for my Sake; + But _needy Merit_ must not dare + To hope with these _thy Alms_ to share, + Commit _that_ to the _Bridewell_-lash, + But give it neither _Food_ nor _Cash_; + Distinguish'd Honour shalt thou gain + In _Pandaemonium_, for thy Pain. + But--one Word more--My Mind misgives, + That _Virtue_ a near _Neighbour_ lives-- + For in my search to find out Thee, + I spied in this Vicinity + A Knot of Friends, where I cou'd trace + _Honour_ emblazon'd in their Face, + These (for their Thoughts I plainly see) + Bear no good Will to you or me; + _Foolishly honest_, cheap they hold + _Libidinoso_ and his Gold, + And will maintain, to Conscience true, + Their Virtue, spite of Me and You. + Altho' your Influence be weak, + Oppose them for _opposing' Sake_, + Do ev'ry little Act of Spite, + And snarl, altho' You cannot bite-- + Be faithful--there will come a Day, + When I thy Services will pay, + Will bring Thee to my Realm, and make + Thee _Pilot of the burning Lake_." + + He said--and quick as Thought withdrew, + And to th' infernal Regions flew; + Blue sulph'rous streaks the Peasants scare, + Marking his passage thro' the Air-- + + _Libidinoso_ left behind, + Began revolving in his Mind + His Master's Promises, and sigh'd + To have them fully ratified; + Then homeward plodded, (but, be sure, + Before he went, he kiss'd his Whore) + Resolv'd, if possible, on more + And greater Evils than before. + All vain was the Resolve--his Cup + Of _Wickedness_ was quite fill'd up, + And no Cup can another drop + Contain, when fill'd up to the Top. + + Since all Improvement was forbid, + What cou'd he do, but what he did? + Nought he diminish'd of the Charge, + But acts _Hell_'s Minister at large. + + A _Pair of Adamantine Lungs_, + A _Throat of Brass_, _Fame's hundred Tongues_, + Time out of Mind have been confest, + By _fifty Poets_, at the least, + Too little to count _Hybla's Bees_, + The _Leaves that cloathe the Forest-Trees_; + The _Sands that broider Neptune's Side_, + Or _Waves_ that on his Bosom ride; + The _Grains_ which rich _Sicilia_ yields, + The _Blades_ with which _Spring_ robes the Fields; + The _Stars_ which twinkling on the sight + _Jove_'s _Threshold_ make so glorious bright: + Or (if we may annex to these + _Modern Impossibilities_) + To reckon up the sum of _Knaves_ + That crawl on _Earth_, or sleep in _Graves_, + To count the _Prudes_ that crowd to _Pews_, + While their _Thoughts_ ramble to the _Stews_, + _Lords_, whose sole Merit is their _Place_, + _Ladies_, whose Worth's a _painted Face_, + Who find _my Lord_ has lost his _Force_ + In _Love_, and sue for a _Divorce_; + Or to abridge, and enter down + The Names of all the _Fools in Town_; + Or number those who _live by Ink_, + And _write_, altho' they cannot _think_; + _Critics_, who judge, but cannot read, + And _praise_, or _censure_--as they're _fee'd_; + Or count _each Bard_ by _Self_ betray'd, + Who thought, when fondled by _his Maid_, + It was _Melpomene_ that smil'd, + And mark'd him for her fav'rite _Child_, + But finds the _Harvest_ of his Lines, + Is to _fast twice_ for _once he dines_. + + As well the _Muse_ might one of these + _Poets' Impossibilities_ + Assay to do, and speed as well, + As if She should attempt to tell + The _Names_ and _Characters_ of _all_ + That on the Name of _Satan_ call, + That preach, and lie, and whine, and cant, + Soldiers for _Hell's Church Militant_; + And use the Head, the Heart, the Hand, + To spread _its Doctrines_ thro' the Land. + _Arithmetic herself_ were dumb, + If task'd with such an endless Sum; + Nor wou'd the _Muse_, tho' one more Line + Wou'd all the Host of _Hell_ entwine, + Bestow another drop of Ink, + To map out an _infernal Sink_-- + + Thou God of Truth and Love! excuse + The _honest Anger_ of the _Muse_, + Warm in _thy Cause_, while She wou'd pray + That Thou from _Earth_ wou'd'st sweep away + Such _rotten Saints_, who wou'd conceal + Their _Fraud_ beneath the Name of _Zeal_! + Who, mask'd with _spurious Piety_, + Trample on _Reason_, _Truth_, and _Thee_, + And, while their hot Career they run, + Tread on the _Gospel_ of thy Son! + Who, feigning to adore, make Thee + A _Tyrant-God_ of Cruelty! + As if thy _right Hand_ did contain + Only an Universe of Pain, + _Hell_ and _Damnation_ in thy _Left_, + Of ev'ry gracious Gift bereft, + Hence raining Floods of Grief and Woes, + On those that never were thy Foes, + Ordaining Torments for the doom + Of Infants, yet within the Womb: + By fifty false Devices more, + Which _Reason_ never heard before, + And _Methodists_ alone cou'd dream, + Thy boundless _Goodness_ they blaspheme! + Who (tho' our _Saviour_'s gracious Plan + Was to teach Happiness to Man, + By _friendly Arguments_ to win + The World from Slavery to Sin; + For He, who all Things knows, well knew, + That they to Duty are more true, + Who from a _filial Love_ obey, + And serve for _Gratitude_, than they + Who from a _coward Dread of Law_ + Owe all their _Virtue_ to their _Awe_; + Who, tho' they seem so true, and just, + So strictly faithful to their Trust, + Will, if you take the _Gallows_ down, + Out-pilfer half the _Rogues_ in _Town_). + With saucy boldness will presume + To pass th' impenetrable gloom, + And lift the Curtain which we see + Is drawn betwixt the World and Thee; + Of nought but endless Torments speak, + To frighten and appall the weak; + Dwell on the horrid Theme with glee, + And fain themselves wou'd _Hangmen_ be; + With so much _Dread_ their _Hearers_ fill, + That they have neither _Pow'r_, nor _Will_, + Tho' _Heav'n_'s the Prize, to move a Hand, + But _shuddering_ and _trembling_ stand. + + Quench the hot Flame, O God, that burns, + And _Piety_ to _Phrenzy_ turns! + Let not thy _holy Name_ be made + A _Cloak_ to hide a _pilf'ring Trade_! + Nor suffer that thy _sacred Word_, + Be turn'd to _Rhapsody absurd_! + Let it not serve, like _Magic Sticks_, + To preface _pious Jugglers'_ Tricks! + Root, root from _Earth_, these baneful weeds, + That choak _Religion_'s _wholesome Seeds_! + Give them the headlong Winds to bear, + And scatter in a desart Air! + Grind them to Powder, that no more + They sprout and grow as heretofore! + Burn the rank stalks, and let the flame + Thy Garden's hot luxuriance tame, + Nor let it Flow'r, or Plant produce, + But what yields _Ornament_ or _Use_! + + But soft--my _Muse_! thy Breath recall-- + Turn not _Religion_'s Milk to Gall! + Let not thy _Zeal_ within thee nurse + A _holy Rage_, or _pious Curse_! + Far other is the _heav'nly Plan_, + Which the _Redeemer_ gave to Man, + Who taught the World in Peace to live, + And e'en _our Enemies_ forgive! + + Live then, _ye Wretches_! to declare, + How long _our God_ with Men _can bear_! + A living Monument to be + Of the _Almighty_'s Clemency! + Who still is good, altho' You preach + Yourselves almost 'bove _Mercy_'s reach; + And, tho' his goodness You resist, + Can even spare a _Methodist_. + + F I N I S. + + + + + WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK + MEMORIAL LIBRARY + UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES + + + THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY + PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT + + + + + THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY + PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT + + + 1948-1949 + + 16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673). + + 17. Nicholas Rowe, _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William + Shakespear_ (1709). + + 18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, + No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ + (1720). + + + 1949-1950 + + 19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709). + + 20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734). + + 22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two + _Rambler_ papers (1750). + + 23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681). + + + 1951-1952 + + 26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792). + + 31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751), + and _The Eton College Manuscript_. + + + 1952-1953 + + 41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732). + + + 1962-1963 + + 98. Selected Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's _Temple_ (1697). + + + 1964-1965 + + 109. Sir William Temple, _An Essay Upon the Original and Nature + of Government_ (1680). + + 110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700). + + 111. Anonymous, _Political Justice_ (1736). + + 112. Robert Dodsley, _An Essay on Fable_ (1764). + + 113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ + (1698). + + 114. _Two Poems Against Pope_: Leonard Welsted, _One Epistle to + Mr. A. Pope_ (1730), and Anonymous, _The Blatant Beast_ + (1742). + + + 1965-1966 + + 115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. + Veal_. + + 116. Charles Macklin, _The Covent Garden Theatre_ (1752). + + 117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680). + + 118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662). + + 119. Thomas Traherne, _Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation_ + (1717). + + 120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_ + (1740). + + + 1966-1967 + + 123. Edmond Malone, _Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed + to Mr. Thomas Rowley_ (1782). + + 124. Anonymous, _The Female Wits_ (1704). + + 125. Anonymous, _The Scribleriad_ (1742). Lord Hervey, _The Difference + Between Verbal and Practical Virtue_ (1742). + + + 1967-1968 + + 129. Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to _Terence's Comedies_ (1694) + and _Plautus's Comedies_ (1694). + + 130. Henry More, _Democritus Platonissans_ (1646). + + 132. Walter Harte, _An Essay on Satire, Particularly on the Dunciad_ + (1730). + + + 1968-1969 + + 133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral + Character of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786). + + 134. John Downes, _Roscius Anglicanus_ (1708). + + 135. Sir John Hill, _Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise_ (1766). + + 136. Thomas Sheridan, _Discourse ... Being Introductory to His + Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_ (1759). + + 137. Arthur Murphy, _The Englishman From Paris_ (1736). + + + 1969-1970 + + 138. [Catherine Trotter], _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718). + + 139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_ (1762). + + 140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding + Burnt to Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on + Dumpling_ (1727). + + 141. Selections from Sir Roger L'Estrange's _Observator_ (1681-1687). + + 142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony + in Writing_ (1729). + + 143. _A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account + of the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726). + + 144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's + Art of Poetry_ (1742). + + + 1970-1971 + + 145-146. Thomas Shelton, _A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_ + (1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647). + + 147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782). + + 149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or, the Poet's Complaint_ (1682). + + 150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or, the Plagiaries + of the English Stage_ (1687). + + +Publications of the first fifteen years of the Society (numbers 1-90) are +available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00 per unit, from the +Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street, New York, N.Y. 10017. + +Publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of +$5.00 for individuals and $8.00 for institutions per year. Prices of +single issues may be obtained upon request. 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