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+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-8859-1
+
+
+***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 _Ægypt_'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 _Dæmoniac 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 _Pandæmonium_, 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
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+
+ 144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's
+      Art of Poetry_ (1742).
+
+
+ 1970-1971
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+
+ 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).
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Methodist, by Evan Lloyd</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Methodist, by Evan Lloyd</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Methodist</p>
+<p>       A Poem</p>
+<p>Author: Evan Lloyd</p>
+<p>Release Date: January 11, 2009  [eBook #27776]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE METHODIST***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Anne Storer,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="notes">Transcriber&#8217;s Note: Table of Contents added:<br /><br />
+<a href="#INTRODUCTION"><strong>Introduction</strong></a><br />
+<a href="#Page_1"><strong>The Methodist</strong></a></p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="box">
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h4>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>EVAN LLOYD</h3>
+
+<h1>THE METHODIST.</h1>
+
+<h2>A POEM.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(1766)</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="box1">
+<h4><br /><em>Introduction by</em></h4>
+<h4><span class="smcap">Raymond Bentman</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">PUBLICATION NUMBER 151-152<br />
+WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY<br />
+<span class="smcap">University of California, Los Angeles</span><br />
+1972</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">GENERAL EDITORS</span></p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;">William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library<br />
+George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles<br />
+Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles<br />
+David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles</p>
+
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">ADVISORY EDITORS</span></p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;">Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan<br />
+James L. Clifford, Columbia University<br />
+Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia<br />
+Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles<br />
+Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago<br />
+Louis A. Landa, Princeton University<br />
+Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles<br />
+Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota<br />
+Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles<br />
+Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library<br />
+James Sutherland, University College, London<br />
+H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles<br />
+Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library<br />
+Curt A. Zimansky, State University of Iowa</p>
+
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">CORRESPONDING SECRETARY</span></p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;">Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library</p>
+
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">EDITORIAL ASSISTANT</span></p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;">Jean T. Shebanek, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+
+<p>Evan Lloyd&#8217;s works consist chiefly of four satires written in
+1766 and 1767,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> 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, <em>The Methodist</em>, which is usually
+included in surveys of anti-Methodist literature.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> For the
+most part, his obscurity is deserved. In <em>The Methodist</em>, 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.</p>
+
+<p>The seventeen-sixties were a difficult period for satire. The
+struggle between Crown and Parliament, the new industrial and agricultural
+methods, the workers&#8217; 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&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;returning to older beliefs
+in religion, government, philosophy, art&mdash;and the stylistic expression
+of such beliefs&mdash;formal verse satire and epistle, mock-poem,
+heroic or Hudibrastic couplet, diction of polite conversation, ironic
+metaphysical conceits, fantastic fictional situations&mdash;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.
+<em>The Epilogue to the Satires</em> becomes an epilogue to all Augustan
+satire and the conclusion of <em>The New Dunciad</em> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&#8217;s <em>New Bath Guide</em> 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 &ldquo;a sin
+&#8217;gainst Pleasure, to design / A plan, to methodize each thought,
+each line / Highly to finish.&rdquo; He claims to write &ldquo;When the mad
+fit comes on&rdquo; and praises poetry written &ldquo;Wild without art, and yet
+with pleasure wild&rdquo; (<em>Gotham</em> [1764], II, 167-169, 172, 212). His
+satire&mdash;with its deliberate, irreverant, &ldquo;Byronic&rdquo; run-on lines,
+fanciful digressions, playful indifference to formal structure, impulsively
+involuted syntax, long, wandering sentences&mdash;seems to
+move, as does Robert Lloyd&#8217;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 <em>New Bath Guide</em>, and
+his influence proved to be more important on the novel than on
+verse satire.</p>
+
+<p>Evan Lloyd&#8217;s first satire, <em>The Powers of the Pen</em>, 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 &ldquo;quill shop&rdquo; the narrator discovers magic
+pens which write like various authors. The one whose &ldquo;Mate was
+purchas&#8217;d by Rousseau&rdquo; can:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+    <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Teach the Passions how to grow</span><br />
+With native Vigour; unconfined<br />
+By those vile Shackles, which the Mind<br />
+Wears in the <em>School of Art</em>....<br />
+Yet will no <em>Heresies</em> admit,<br />
+To gratify the <em>Pride of Wit</em> (p. 30).</p>
+
+<p>He advances these critical dicta elsewhere in this satire, condemning
+Johnson because he tries &ldquo;Nature&rdquo; by &ldquo;<em>Critic-law</em>&rdquo; (p. 21).
+With fashionable Rousseauistic ideas he praises:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+The <em>Muse</em>, who never lov&#8217;d the Town,<br />
+Ne&#8217;er flaunted in brocaded Gown;<br />
+Pleas&#8217;d thro&#8217; the hawthorn&#8217;d Vale to roam,<br />
+Or sing her artless Strain at Home,<br />
+Bred in plain Nature&#8217;s simple Rules,<br />
+Far from the Foppery of Schools (p. 36).</p>
+
+<p>Evan Lloyd, Robert Lloyd, and Churchill, starting from somewhat
+different philosophic principles, all arrive at similar positions.</p>
+
+<p><em>The Curate</em>, his second satire, is largely autobiographical.
+It shows, as does <em>The Powers of the Pen</em>, 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, &ldquo;uncivil and
+unbred! / Unlick&#8217;d, untaught, un-all-things&mdash;but unfed!&rdquo; are &ldquo;but
+sweepers of the pews, / The <em>Scullions of the Church</em>, they dare
+abuse, / And rudely treat their betters&rdquo; (pp. 16-17). They show a
+lack of proper respect both for class-structure and Christianity:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+<em>Servant to Christ!</em> and what is that to me?<br />
+I keep a servant too, as well as He (p. 17).</p>
+
+<p>But <em>The Curate</em> frequently descends to a whine. The curate is
+morally above reproach while those above him are arrogant and those
+below him are disrespectful.</p>
+
+<p>The most serious problem with <em>The Curate</em>, however, is the
+same as the problem with all of Lloyd&#8217;s satires except <em>The Methodist</em>,
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <em>An Essay on Man</em>. Or
+the <em>Essay</em> may have been popular because it expressed ideas already
+in general acceptance. But whatever the explanation is, the
+catch-phrases extracted from Pope&#8217;s most popular work become the
+touchstones of post-Augustan satire.</p>
+
+<p>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 <em>The Curate</em>, toward
+attacking tiresomely obvious objects, like the superficial chit-chat
+of Lloyd&#8217;s <em>Conversation</em>, toward trivial quarrels, like Churchill&#8217;s
+<em>Rosciad</em>, toward broadly unimpeachable morals, like Johnson&#8217;s
+<em>The Vanity of Human Wishes</em>. It is understandable that many writers,
+such as Joseph Warton and Christopher Smart, abandoned satire
+for various kinds of enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>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 &ldquo;rational Dissenters&rdquo; 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&#8217;s
+arguments to the contrary, led good members of the Church of England
+astray and threatened religious stability.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 &ldquo;poor only because they are
+idle.&rdquo;<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>
+The mass emotionalism of the evangelical meetings were reminders
+that man was not so rational as certain popular ideas tried to make
+him. Wesley&#8217;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&#8217;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.</p>
+
+<p>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 <em>The Saints</em> fears &ldquo;Their frantic
+pray&#8217;r [is] a mere <em>Decoy</em> for <em>Mob</em>&rdquo; (p. 4) and the
+author<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> of <em>The
+Methodist and Mimic</em> claims that Whitefield&#8217;s preaching sends &ldquo;the
+Brainless Mob a gadding&rdquo; (p. 15). Evan Lloyd is the one anti-Methodist
+satirist who explores the larger implications.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd constructs his satire around the theme of general corruption,
+that nothing is so virtuous that it cannot be spoiled either
+by man&#8217;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:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+Each vulgar Trade, each sweaty Brow<br />
+Is search&#8217;d....<br />
+Hence ev&#8217;ry Blockhead, Knave, and Dunce,<br />
+Start into Preachers all at once (p. 29).</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+Hence Ignorance of ev&#8217;ry size,<br />
+Of ev&#8217;ry shape Wit can devise,<br />
+Altho&#8217; so dull it hardly knows, ...<br />
+When it is Day, or when &#8217;tis Night,<br />
+Shall yet pretend to keep the Key<br />
+Of <em>God</em>&#8217;s dark Secrets, and display<br />
+His <em>hidden Mysteries</em>, as free<br />
+As if <em>God&#8217;s privy Council</em> He,<br />
+Shall to his Presence rush, and dare<br />
+To raise a <em>pious Riot</em> there (pp. 29-30).</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+Quit their beloved wrangling <em>Hall</em>,<br />
+More loudly in a <em>Church</em> to bawl: ...<br />
+And full as fervent, on their Knees,<br />
+For <em>Heav&#8217;n</em> they pray, as once for <em>Fees</em>; ...<br />
+The <em>Physic-Tribe</em> their Art resign,<br />
+And lose the <em>Quack</em> in the <em>Divine</em>; ...<br />
+Of a <em>New-birth</em> they prate, and prate<br />
+While <em>Midwifry</em> is out of Date (pp. 30-31).</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+  <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The</span> <em>Bricklay&#8217;r</em> throws his <em>Trowel</em> by,<br />
+And now <em>builds Mansions in the Sky</em>; ...<br />
+The <em>Waterman</em> forgets his <em>Wherry</em>,<br />
+And opens a <em>celestial Ferry</em>; ...<br />
+The <em>Fishermen</em> no longer set<br />
+For <em>Fish</em> the Meshes of their Net,<br />
+But catch, like <em>Peter</em>, <em>Men of Sin</em>,<br />
+For <em>catching</em> is to <em>take them in</em> (pp. 32-34).</p>
+
+<p>This spreading confusion is, however, not just a passing social
+problem but one that results from many breasts being &ldquo;tainted&rdquo;
+and many hearts &ldquo;infected&rdquo; (p. 34). The corruption is almost universal
+and results in Wesley (as he actually did) selling &ldquo;Powders,
+Draughts, and Pills.&rdquo; Madan &ldquo;the springs of Health <em>unlocks</em>,/ And
+by his Preaching cures the <em>P</em>[<em>ox</em>],&rdquo; (he was Chaplain of Lock Hospital)
+and Romaine:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+Pulls you by <em>Gravity up-Hill</em>, ...<br />
+By your <em>bad Deeds</em> your <em>Faith</em> you shew,<br />
+&#8217;Tis but <em>believe</em>, and <em>up You go</em> (p. 36).</p>
+
+<p>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, &ldquo;cloy&#8217;d with <em>carnal</em> Bliss,&rdquo; longs &ldquo;to
+taste how <em>Spirits</em> kiss.&rdquo; In his all-inclusive catalogue of &ldquo;<em>Knaves</em>/
+That crawl on <em>Earth</em>&rdquo; Lloyd includes &ldquo;<em>Prudes</em> that crowd to <em>Pews</em>,/
+While their <em>Thoughts</em> ramble to the <em>Stews</em>&rdquo; (p. 48).</p>
+
+<p>What makes Lloyd interesting, in spite of his many derivative
+ideas and techniques, is inadvertently pointed out by the <em>Critical
+Review</em>, which complains that &ldquo;the author outmethodizes even
+Methodism itself.&rdquo;<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> That the brutal tone of <em>The Methodist</em> 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:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+Quench the hot flame, O God, that Burns<br />
+And <em>Piety</em> to <em>Phrenzy</em> turns!</p>
+
+<p>And then, after a few lines, he applies the same terms to himself:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+But soft&mdash;&mdash;my <em>Muse</em>! thy Breath recall&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+Turn not <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s Milk to Gall!<br />
+Let not thy <em>Zeal</em> within thee nurse<br />
+A <em>holy Rage</em>! or <em>pious Curse</em>!<br />
+Far other is the <em>heav&#8217;nly Plan</em>,<br />
+Which the <em>Redeemer</em> gave to Man (pp. 52-53).</p>
+
+<p>The satirist, as Robert C. Elliott points out, has always, in art,
+satirized himself.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> 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&#8217;s &ldquo;Zeal within.&rdquo; 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.</p>
+
+<p>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&#8217;s satires. They combine with the
+intemperate tone and the satirist&#8217;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.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd had attempted an autobiographical satire in <em>The Curate</em>.
+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 <em>The Methodist</em> and now seems,
+however briefly, to have opened the way to a truly prophetic style
+of satire.</p>
+
+<p>After <em>The Methodist</em> Lloyd wrote <em>Conversation</em>, a satire that
+not only failed to fulfill the promise of <em>The Methodist</em> but is more
+conservative in theme and style than any of his earlier satires.</p>
+
+<p>After that work he produced little. He published an expanded version
+of <em>The Power of the Pen</em> and a dull ode printed in <em>The Annual
+Register</em>. When William Kenrick, in <em>Love in the Suds</em>, implied that
+Garrick was Isaac Bickerstaff&#8217;s lover, Lloyd defended Garrick in
+<em>Epistle to David Garrick</em>. Kenrick replied with <em>A Whipping for the
+Welch Parson</em>, an ironic Dunciad-Variorum-type editing of Lloyd&#8217;s
+<em>Epistle</em>, 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.</p>
+
+<p>We know so little about his life that we can only speculate
+why he failed to follow up the promise of <em>The Methodist</em>; why, after
+favorable reviews from the journals<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> 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.</p>
+
+<p>Another explanation is suggested by the conservative ideas
+and style of <em>Conversation</em>, which are more like Pope&#8217;s than are the
+ideas and style of any earlier satire of Lloyd&#8217;s. In this satire he
+explicitly repudiates his older, freer critical dicta in both theory
+and practice:</p>
+
+<p class="poem1">
+Tho&#8217; this be <em>Form</em>&mdash;yet bend to <em>Form</em> we must,<br />
+Fools <em>with it</em> please, <em>without it</em> Wits disgust (p. 3).</p>
+
+<p>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 <em>The Methodist</em> and before his
+1766-1767 outburst of satire-writing was over.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd, in writing <em>The Methodist</em>, seems to have come as close
+as any satirist before Blake and the writers of <em>The Anti-Jacobin</em>
+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 <em>The Methodist</em> praising this best of
+all possible worlds (pp. 16-20) and his invocation to the &ldquo;heav&#8217;nly
+Plan&rdquo; 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.</p>
+
+<p><br />Temple University</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div>
+<h2>NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> For a survey of all Lloyd&#8217;s work see Cecil J. L. Price, <em>A Man of Genius
+and a Welch Man</em> (University of Swansea, Wales, 1963). Lloyd
+is the subject of an unpublished dissertation, <em>The Moral Beau</em>, by Paul
+E. Parnell (New York University, 1956). Two short passages from
+<em>The Methodist</em> are included in <em>The Penguin Book of Satirical Verse</em>,
+ed. Edward Lucie-Smith (Baltimore, 1967).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Most recently, Albert M. Lyles, <em>Methodism Mocked</em> (London, 1960).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Journal, 8 February 1753, quoted by A. R. Humphreys, <em>The Augustan
+World</em> (New York, 1963), p. 20.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The pseudonymous author, Peter Paragraph, is identified by Halkett
+and Laing, <em>Dictionary of Anonymous and Pseudonymous English Literature</em>,
+as James Makittrick Adair. Adair did write some works under
+that pseudonym but probably did not write <em>The Methodist and Mimic</em>.
+Lyles, <em>op. cit.</em>, p. 129n., suggests that the author may be Samuel Foote,
+in whose play, <em>The Orators</em>, a character, Peter Paragraph, appears,
+probably representing George Faulkner. Robert Lloyd, in &ldquo;The Cobbler
+of Cripplegate&#8217;s Letter,&rdquo; hints that Peter Paragraph may be Bonnel
+Thornton.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <em>The Critical Review</em>, XXIII (1766), pp. 75-77.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <em>The Power of Satire</em> (Princeton, 1960), p. 222 and <em>passim</em>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The Methodist was reviewed by <em>The Monthly Review</em>, XXV (1766),
+pp. 319-321, and <em>Gentleman&#8217;s Magazine</em>, XXXVI (1766), p. 335. <em>Conversation</em>
+was reviewed more favorably by <em>The Monthly Review</em>, XXXVII
+(1767), p. 394, and by <em>The Critical Review</em> XXIV (1767), pp. 341-343.
+<em>The Critical Review</em> compared him with Swift.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class="box">
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</h2>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 10em; margin-right: 10em;">
+This facsimile of <em>The Methodist</em> (1766) is reproduced
+from a copy [840. k. 10. (18.)] in the British
+Museum by kind permission of the Trustees.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<h3>T H E</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h6>METHODIST<span style="margin-left: -.5em;">.</span></h6>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>A</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h5>POEM<span style="margin-left: -1em;">.</span></h5>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;">
+<img src="images/img017.png" width="336" height="117" alt="signature of E Lloyd" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4>
+<h2>The Powers of the Pen, and The Curate.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 90%; color: black;" />
+
+<h3><span style="letter-spacing: .3em;">LONDON:<br />
+PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR;</span><br />
+And Sold by <span class="smcap">Richardson</span> and <span class="smcap">Urquhart</span>, under the<br />
+<span class="smcap">Royal-Exchange, Cornhill</span>.</h3>
+
+<h3>&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+MDCCLXVI.</h3>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 95%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<h3>T H E</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h6>METHODIST<span style="margin-left: -.5em;">.</span></h6>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Nothing, search all creation round,<br />
+Nothing so <em>firmly good</em> is found,<br />
+Whose substance, with such closeness knit,<br />
+<em>Corruption</em>&#8217;s <em>Touch</em> will not admit;<br />
+But, spite of all incroaching stains,<br />
+Its native purity retains:<br />
+Whose texture will nor warp, nor fade,<br />
+Though moths and weather shou&#8217;d invade,<br />
+Which <em>Time</em>&#8217;s sharp tooth cannot corrode,<br />
+Proof against <em>Accident</em> and <em>Mode</em>;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>
+And, maugre each assailing dart,<br />
+Thrown by the hand of Force, or Art,<br />
+Remains (let Fate do what it will)<br />
+<em>Simple</em> and <em>uncorrupted</em> still.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Virtue</em>, of constitution nice,<br />
+Quickly degen&#8217;rates into <em>Vice</em>;<br />
+Change but the <em>Person</em>, <em>Place</em>, and <em>Time</em>,<br />
+And what was <em>Merit</em> turns to <em>Crime</em>.<br />
+<em>Wisdom</em>, which men with so much pain,<br />
+With so much weariness attain,<br />
+May in a little moment quit,<br />
+And abdicate the throne of Wit,<br />
+And leave, a vacant seat, the brain,<br />
+For Folly to usurp and reign.<br />
+Should you but discompose the tide,<br />
+On which <em>Ideas</em> wont to ride,<br />
+<em>Ferment</em> it with a <em>yeasty Storm</em>,<br />
+Or with high <em>Floods of Wine</em> deform;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>
+Altho&#8217; <em>Sir Oracle</em> is he,<br />
+Who is as wise, as wise can be,<br />
+In one short minute we shall find<br />
+The wise man gone, a fool behind.<br />
+<em>Courage</em>, that is all nerve and heart,<br />
+That dares confront Death&#8217;s brandish&#8217;d dart,<br />
+That dares to single Fight defy<br />
+The stoutest Hector of the sky,<br />
+Whose mettle ne&#8217;er was known to slack,<br />
+Nor wou&#8217;d on thunder turn his back;<br />
+How small a matter may controul,<br />
+And sooth the fury of his soul!<br />
+Shou&#8217;d this intrepid Mars, his clay<br />
+Dilute with nerve-relaxing Tea,<br />
+Thin broths, thin whey, or water-gruel,<br />
+He is no longer fierce and cruel,<br />
+But mild and gentle as a dove,<br />
+The <em>Hero</em>&#8217;s melted down to <em>Love</em>.<br />
+The <em>juices</em> soften&#8217;d, (here we note<br />
+More on the <em>juices</em> than the <em>Coat</em><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
+Depends, to make a valiant Mars<br />
+Rich in the heraldry of scars)<br />
+The <em>Man</em> is <em>soften&#8217;d</em> too, and shews<br />
+No fondness for a bloody nose.<br />
+When <em>Georgy S&mdash;k&mdash;&mdash;le shunn&#8217;d the Fray</em>,<br />
+He&#8217;d swill&#8217;d a little too much Tea.<br />
+<em>Chastity</em> melts like sun-kiss&#8217;d snow,<br />
+When Lust&#8217;s hot wind begins to blow.<br />
+Let but that <em>horrid Creature, Man</em>,<br />
+Breathe on a lady thro&#8217; her fan,<br />
+Her <em>Virtue</em> thaws, and by and bye<br />
+Will of the <em>falling Sickness</em> die.<br />
+Lo! <em>Beauty</em>, still more transitory,<br />
+Fades in the mid-day of its glory!<br />
+For <em>Nature</em> in her kindness swore,<br />
+That she who kills, shall kill no more;<br />
+And in pure mercy does erase<br />
+Each killing feature in the face;<br />
+Plucks from the cheek the damask rose,<br />
+E&#8217;en at the moment that it blows;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
+Dims the bright lustre of those eyes<br />
+To which the Gods wou&#8217;d sacrifice;<br />
+Dries the moist lip, and pales its hue,<br />
+And brushes off its honied dew;<br />
+Flattens the proudly swelling chest,<br />
+Furrows the round elastic breast,<br />
+And all the Loves that on it play&#8217;d,<br />
+Are in a tomb of wrinkles laid;<br />
+Recalls those charms, which she design&#8217;d<br />
+To <em>please</em>, and not <em>bewitch</em> Mankind;<br />
+But with too delicate a touch,<br />
+Heightening the <em>Ornaments</em> too much,<br />
+She finds her daughters can convert<br />
+Blessings to curses, good to hurt,<br />
+Proof of parental love to give,<br />
+She blots them out that Man may live.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The hour will come (which let not me<br />
+Indulgent Nature, live to see!)<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
+The hour will come, when <em>Chloe</em>&#8217;s form<br />
+Shall with its beauty feed the worm;<br />
+That face where troops of Cupids throng,<br />
+Whose charms first warm&#8217;d me into song,<br />
+Shall wrinkle, wither, and decay,<br />
+To Age, and to Disease, a prey!<br />
+<em>Chloe</em>, in whom are so combin&#8217;d<br />
+The charms of body and of mind,<br />
+As might to Earth elicit <em>Jove</em>,<br />
+Thinking his Heav&#8217;n well left for Love;<br />
+Perfection as she is, the hour<br />
+Will come, when she must feel the pow&#8217;r<br />
+Of <em>Time</em>, and to his wither&#8217;d arms,<br />
+Resign the rifling of her charms!<br />
+Must veil her beauties in a cloud,<br />
+A grave her bed, her robe a shroud!<br />
+When all her glowing, vivid bloom,<br />
+Must fade and wither in the tomb!<br />
+When she who bears the ensigns now,<br />
+Of Beauty&#8217;s Priestess on her brow,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
+Shall to th&#8217; abhorr&#8217;d embrace of Death<br />
+Give up the sweetness of her breath!<br />
+When worms&mdash;but stop, <em>Description</em>, there&mdash;<br />
+My heart cannot the picture bear&mdash;<br />
+Sickens to think there is a day,<br />
+When <em>Chloe</em> will be made a prey<br />
+To Death, a piece-meal feast for him<br />
+With rav&#8217;nous jaw to tear each limb,<br />
+And feature after feature eat,<br />
+While <em>Beauty</em> only serves for <em>Meat</em>&mdash;<br />
+Wretched to know that this is true,<br />
+Forbear t&#8217; anticipate the view!<br />
+Hence, <em>Observation</em>!&mdash;take your leave!&mdash;<br />
+And kindly, <em>Memory</em>, deceive!<br />
+And when some forty years are fled,<br />
+And age has on her beauties fed,<br />
+Dear <em>Self-Delusion</em>! lend thy skill<br />
+To fancy she is <em>Chloe</em> still!</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Cities</em> and <em>Empires</em> will decay,<br />
+And to <em>Corruption</em> fall a prey!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
+<em>Athens</em>, of arts the native land,<br />
+Cou&#8217;d not the stroke of Time withstand;<br />
+There Serpents hiss, and ravens croak,<br />
+Where <em>Socrates</em> and <em>Plato</em> spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Proud <em>Troy</em> herself (as all things must)<br />
+Is crumbled into native dust;<br />
+Is now a pasture, where the beast<br />
+Strays for his vegetable feast,<br />
+Old <em>Priam</em>&#8217;s royal palace now<br />
+May couch the ox, the ass, the cow.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Rome</em>, city of imperial worth,<br />
+The mighty mistress of the earth;<br />
+<em>Rome</em>, that gave law to all the world,<br />
+Is now to blank Destruction hurl&#8217;d!&mdash;<br />
+Is now a sepulchre, a tomb,<br />
+To tell the stranger, &ldquo;Here was <em>Rome</em>.&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+View the <em>West Abbey</em>! there we see<br />
+How frail a thing is royalty!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+Where crowns and sceptres worms supply,<br />
+And kings and queens, like lumber lie.<br />
+The <em>Tombs themselves</em> are worn away,<br />
+And own the empire of <em>Decay</em>,<br />
+Mouldering like the royal dust,<br />
+Which to preserve they have in trust.<br />
+Nor has the <em>Marble</em> more withstood<br />
+The rage of <em>Time</em>, than <em>Flesh and Blood</em>!<br />
+The <em>King of Stone</em> is worn away,<br />
+As well as is the <em>King of Clay</em>&mdash;<br />
+Here lies a <em>King without a Nose</em>,<br />
+And there a <em>Prince without his Toes</em>;<br />
+Here on her back a <em>Royal Fair</em><br />
+Lies, but a little worse for wear;<br />
+Those lips, whose touch cou&#8217;d almost turn<br />
+Old age to youth, and make it burn;<br />
+To which young kings were proud to kneel,<br />
+Are kick&#8217;d by every Schoolboy&#8217;s heel;<br />
+Struck rudely by the <em>Showman&#8217;s Wand</em>,<br />
+And crush&#8217;d by every callous Hand:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+Here a <em>puissant Monarch</em> frowns<br />
+In menace high to rival Crowns;<br />
+He threatens&mdash;but will do no harm&mdash;<br />
+Our <em>Monarch</em> has not left an arm.<br />
+Thus all <em>Things</em> feel the gen&#8217;ral curse,<br />
+<em>That all Things must with Time grow worse</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+But your Philosophers will say,<br />
+<em>Best Things grow worst when they decay</em>.<br />
+And many facts they have at hand<br />
+To prove it, shou&#8217;d you proofs demand.<br />
+As if <em>Corruption</em> shut her jaw,<br />
+And scorn&#8217;d to cram her filthy maw,<br />
+With aught but dainties rich and rare,<br />
+And morsels of the choicest fare;<br />
+As garden Birds are led to bite,<br />
+Where&#8217;er the fairest fruits invite.<br />
+If <em>Ph&oelig;bus&#8217;</em> rays too fiercely burn,<br />
+The <em>richest Wines</em> to <em>sourest</em> turn:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
+And they who living <em>highly fed</em>,<br />
+Will breed a <em>Pestilence when dead</em>.<br />
+Thus <em>Aldermen</em>, who at each Feast,<br />
+Cram Tons of Spices from the East,<br />
+Whose leading wish, and only plan,<br />
+Is to learn how to <em>pickle Man</em>;<br />
+Who more than vie with <em>&AElig;gypt</em>&#8217;s art,<br />
+And make themselves a <em>human Tart</em>,<br />
+A <em>walking Pastry-Shop</em>, a <em>Gut</em>,<br />
+Shambles by Wholesale to inglut;<br />
+And gorge each high-concocted Mess<br />
+The art of Cookery can dress:<br />
+Yet spite of all, when <em>Death</em> thinks fit<br />
+To take them off, lest t&#8217; other bit<br />
+Shou&#8217;d burst these <em>living Mummies</em>, able<br />
+Neither to eat, nor quit the Table;<br />
+Whether He Dropsy sends or Gout,<br />
+To fetch them by the Shoulders out;<br />
+Tho&#8217; living they were <em>Salt</em> and <em>Spice</em>,<br />
+The carcase is not over nice;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
+And all may find, who have a <em>Nose</em>,<br />
+<em>Dead Aldermen</em> are not a rose.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+This reas&#8217;ning only serves to shew,<br />
+The world call&#8217;d <em>Natural</em>, is so.<br />
+But various instances proclaim,<br />
+&#8217;Tis in the <em>moral World</em> the same.<br />
+Thus <em>Woman</em>, Nature&#8217;s <em>chastest</em> work,<br />
+<em>Lust-struck</em>, out-paramours the Turk;<br />
+Tho&#8217; <em>gentle</em> as the suckling Child,<br />
+<em>Enrag&#8217;d</em>, than famish&#8217;d Wolves more wild;<br />
+A more fell minister of <em>Death</em>&mdash;<br />
+<em>Rime</em> gives the instance in <em>Mackbeth</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Reason herself</em>, that <em>sober Dame</em>,<br />
+So mild, so temperate, so tame,<br />
+Her head once turn&#8217;d, and giddy grown,<br />
+Raving with phrenzy not her own,<br />
+Plays madder pranks, more full of spleen<br />
+Than any Hoyden of sixteen.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
+Whether she burns with <em>Love</em> or <em>Hate</em>,<br />
+Or grows with <em>baseless Hopes</em> elate,<br />
+With <em>Desperation</em> is forlorn,<br />
+Or with imagin&#8217;d horrors torn,<br />
+If on <em>Ambition</em>&#8217;s swelling tide,<br />
+Her crazy bark from side to side,<br />
+Reels like a drunkard, tempest-tost,<br />
+Or in the <em>Gulph of Pride</em> is lost;<br />
+Whate&#8217;er the <em>leading Passion</em> be,<br />
+That works the Soul&#8217;s anxiety,<br />
+In each <em>Extreme</em> th&#8217; effect is bad,<br />
+<em>Sense</em> grows diseas&#8217;d, and <em>Reason</em> mad.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Why shou&#8217;d the Muse of <em>Angels</em> tell<br />
+Turn&#8217;d into <em>Devils</em> when they fell?<br />
+Why search the Chronicles of <em>Hell</em>,<br />
+While <em>Earth</em> examples it as well?<br />
+Why talk of <em>Satan</em>, while we see<br />
+Each day some new Apostacy?<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
+<em>Tories</em> to <em>Whigs</em> convert, and <em>Whigs</em>,<br />
+<em>Mere Ministerial Whirlegigs</em>,<br />
+Turn&#8217;d by the hand of <em>Int&#8217;rest</em>, take<br />
+The <em>Tory-part</em>, for Lucre&#8217;s sake.<br />
+<em>Patriots</em> turn <em>Placemen</em>, and support<br />
+Against their Country&#8217;s good the Court;<br />
+Are bought with <em>Pensions</em> to retire,<br />
+When drooping Kingdoms most require<br />
+Their aid&mdash;&mdash;Tho&#8217; here the Muse wou&#8217;d fain<br />
+<em>Except</em> ONE of the <em>pension&#8217;d Train</em>,<br />
+(<em>One</em> meritorious &#8217;bove the rest,<br />
+A <em>patriot Minister</em>, confest)<br />
+Yet strictest honour can&#8217;t acquit<br />
+That <em>Pensioner</em>, who once was <em>P&mdash;&mdash;</em>.<br />
+Instance on instance to my view<br />
+Come rushing, of the changeling crew,<br />
+That I could quarrel with my Nature,<br />
+To think that Man is such a Creature&mdash;<br />
+And are we all a fickle tribe,<br />
+Venal to ev&#8217;ry golden bribe?<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
+Is there not one of honour found,<br />
+In all the List of <em>Placemen</em> found?<br />
+Yes&mdash;<em>one</em> there is, in perils tried,<br />
+Yet never known to <em>change his Side</em>,<br />
+Or <em>Principles</em>&mdash;nor think it strange,<br />
+He ne&#8217;er had <em>Principles</em> to change,<br />
+And for a <em>Side</em> (the proof is new)<br />
+He&#8217;s <em>none</em>, because that <em>he has two</em>.<br />
+Throw him from <em>Party</em>&#8217;s giddy heights,<br />
+A <em>Cat in Politics</em> he lights<br />
+Ever upon his feet; his heart<br />
+Clings both to <em>Whig</em> and <em>Tory-part</em>;<br />
+Is <em>this</em>, is <em>that</em>, is <em>both</em>, or <em>neither</em>,<br />
+And still keeps shifting with the Weather.<br />
+Who does not know that <em>T&mdash;s&mdash;d</em>&#8217;s he,<br />
+That reads the <em>Book of Ministry</em>?</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Thus let us turn where&#8217;er we will,<br />
+<em>Each Machiavel</em>&#8217;s a <em>Changeling</em> still.<br />
+But tho&#8217; among all <em>Nature</em>&#8217;s works<br />
+The seed of foul <em>Corruption</em> lurks,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+Yet no where is it known to bear<br />
+So vile a Crop on Ground so fair,<br />
+As when upon <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s root<br />
+<em>It raises Diabolic Fruit</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When the Almighty Father&#8217;s Love<br />
+Call&#8217;d Things to Being, from above<br />
+Millions of winged <em>Blessings</em> flew,<br />
+Sent from his right hand, to bedew<br />
+The new-born Earth, and from their wings<br />
+Shed good on all <em>created Things</em>.<br />
+Precious and various tho&#8217; the store<br />
+Which down to Earth these Legates bore,<br />
+That <em>Heav&#8217;nly Spark</em> we <em>Reason call</em>,<br />
+Was far the richest boon of all.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+By <em>this</em> we find <em>th&#8217; Almighty Cause</em><br />
+From whom the World its Being draws;<br />
+<em>By whom Earth</em>&#8217;s plenteous Table&#8217;s spread,<br />
+At which each living Creature&#8217;s fed;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+<em>Who</em> gave the <em>Breath of Life</em>, and whence<br />
+This fine <em>Variety</em> of <em>Sense</em>;<br />
+<em>Whose Hands</em> unfold the azure sky,<br />
+Sublimely pleasing to <em>the Eye</em>;<br />
+<em>Who</em> tun&#8217;d the feather&#8217;d Songster&#8217;s throat,<br />
+Giving such softness to his note,<br />
+To fill the <em>Ear</em> with dulcet sound,<br />
+And pour sweet Music all around;<br />
+Who on the teeming Branches plac&#8217;d<br />
+Such various Fruit to please the <em>Taste</em>;<br />
+What bounteous Hand perfum&#8217;d the <em>Rose</em>,<br />
+And ev&#8217;ry scented Flow&#8217;r that blows,<br />
+And wafts its fragrance thro&#8217; the Vale,<br />
+Courting the <em>Smell</em> in ev&#8217;ry gale,<br />
+To <em>whom</em> it is we owe so much<br />
+Substantial pleasure in the <em>Touch</em>;<br />
+And <em>whence</em>, superior to the whole,<br />
+Those raptures that transport <em>the Soul</em>;<br />
+<em>This</em> gives our Gratitude to glow<br />
+To him, from whom such Blessings flow;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+This teaches Man his <em>moral Part</em>,<br />
+And grafts <em>Religion</em> in the Heart.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Glory to God, good Will to Man,<br />
+And Peace on Earth</em>, compos&#8217;d the plan,<br />
+For which <em>Religion</em> first came down,<br />
+And brought to Earth a <em>heav&#8217;nly Crown</em>.<br />
+Better her Purpose to complete,<br />
+And <em>Satan</em>&#8217;s Malice to defeat,<br />
+A Troop of <em>holy Genii</em> came,<br />
+Co-workers in the glorious Scheme.<br />
+To each a scroll the Goddess gave,<br />
+On which these lines She did engrave:<br />
+&ldquo;Go, teach the sons of Men to raise<br />
+Their voice unto their <em>Maker</em>&#8217;s praise.<br />
+Go, call forth <em>Charity</em> to meet<br />
+Distress that seeks her in the Street;<br />
+Bid her the lame with Legs supply,<br />
+And be unto the blind an Eye;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+A Mantle o&#8217;er the naked throw,<br />
+And reach a healing hand to Woe;<br />
+Visit the bed where Sickness lies,<br />
+And wipe the tears from Orphans eyes;<br />
+Bid her Affliction&#8217;s hour beguile,<br />
+And teach the tear-worn Cheek to smile;<br />
+Bid her send Comfort to expell<br />
+Grief from the lonely Widow&#8217;s Cell;<br />
+Make blunt the arrows of Mischance,<br />
+And ope the eyes of Ignorance;<br />
+To those lost Pilgrims point the Way,<br />
+Who in <em>Sin</em>&#8217;s tenfold Darkness stray,<br />
+Recall them from <em>Hell</em>&#8217;s thickest night,<br />
+And shew <em>Salvation</em>&#8217;s glorious Light;<br />
+For thus the World that Peace shall find,<br />
+For which it was by <em>God</em> design&#8217;d.&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Such the commands <em>Religion</em> gave,<br />
+When first she came the World to save,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+Such the attendants in her Train,<br />
+When She began her holy Reign.<br />
+And when <em>Messiah</em>&#8217;s gracious Love<br />
+Urg&#8217;d him to leave the <em>Realms</em> above,<br />
+Urg&#8217;d him to quit his <em>heav&#8217;nly Throne</em>,<br />
+His People&#8217;s Trespass to atone,<br />
+And, tho&#8217; so long they had withstood<br />
+His Will, to wash them with his Blood;<br />
+The great Command he did renew,<br />
+To <em>give to God, and Man his due</em>;<br />
+Bade the bright <em>Sun of Faith</em> arise,<br />
+And open&#8217;d Heav&#8217;n to mortal eyes,<br />
+Leaving <em>Religion</em> on the Earth,<br />
+More fair and pure than at her Birth.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+How mutilated now and marr&#8217;d,<br />
+Deform&#8217;d, distorted, mangled, scarr&#8217;d!<br />
+Thro&#8217; <em>modern Conventicles</em> trace<br />
+The Goddess, you&#8217;ll not know her face:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+The <em>holy Genii</em> all are fled,<br />
+And <em>Sprites</em> and <em>Dev&#8217;ls</em> come in their stead.<br />
+And now a counterfeiting Dame<br />
+Usurps <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s sacred Name,<br />
+But no more like in <em>Heart</em> or <em>Face</em>,<br />
+Than <em>F&mdash;x</em>&#8217;s deeds to deeds of Grace.<br />
+Visit her at her <em>T-tt&mdash;m</em> Seat,<br />
+You&#8217;ll find she is an errant Cheat.<br />
+For <em>Satan</em>, Man&#8217;s invet&#8217;rate foe,<br />
+Whose greatest joy is human woe,<br />
+Repining at the heav&#8217;nly Plan,<br />
+That promis&#8217;d so much Good to Man,<br />
+Us&#8217;d all his Malice, Wit, and Pow&#8217;r,<br />
+The World&#8217;s great Blessings to devour.<br />
+Well the <em>malicious Spirit</em> knew<br />
+Whence <em>Man</em> his chief resources drew<br />
+Of Happiness, and saw confest,<br />
+Where all was good, <em>Religion</em> best;<br />
+And at her unpolluted Heart<br />
+He aim&#8217;d his most envenom&#8217;d Dart.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+He knew the Interest of <em>Hell</em><br />
+Cou&#8217;d never on the <em>Earth</em> go well,<br />
+While <em>pure Religion</em> did maintain<br />
+O&#8217;er Man a sanctimonious reign.<br />
+With her he wag&#8217;d malicious War,<br />
+He might, if not destroy her, mar<br />
+Her Face; might with false Lights misguide,<br />
+And make her Combat on his side.<br />
+Highly did his <em>Ambition</em> burn<br />
+Heav&#8217;n&#8217;s Arms against itself to turn.<br />
+Nor would his <em>Malice</em> triumph less,<br />
+To <em>damn</em> where <em>God</em> design&#8217;d to <em>bless</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+For this <em>the Fiend</em> to Earth ascends,<br />
+To try his Int&#8217;rest with his Friends.<br />
+Long in his fiery Chariot hurl&#8217;d,<br />
+He had explor&#8217;d the pendent World;<br />
+Long had he search&#8217;d without avail,<br />
+Each <em>Meeting</em>, <em>Dungeon</em>, <em>Court</em>, and <em>Jail</em>,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+Each <em>Mart of Villainy</em>, where <em>Vice</em><br />
+Presides, and <em>Virtue</em> bears no Price,<br />
+Where <em>Fraud</em>, <em>Hypocrisy</em>, and <em>Lies</em><br />
+Are selling while the Devil buys.<br />
+Long had he search&#8217;d, but could not find<br />
+An <em>Agent</em> suited to his Mind,<br />
+Who cou&#8217;d transact his Business well,<br />
+And do on Earth the work of Hell;<br />
+That he might at his leisure go,<br />
+And manage his Affairs below.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Tir&#8217;d and despairing of a Friend<br />
+On whom he safely might depend,<br />
+At <em>T-tt&mdash;m</em> he alights from Air&mdash;<br />
+<em>Magus</em>, that <em>Sorcerer</em>, was there.<br />
+Pleas&#8217;d <em>Satan</em> somewhat nearer drew,<br />
+Look&#8217;d thro&#8217; him at a single view,<br />
+Bless&#8217;d his good Luck, and grinn&#8217;d aghast&mdash;<br />
+&ldquo;&#8217;Tis well, for I have found at last,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
+The Thing I long have sought, in <em>Thee</em>,<br />
+<em>An Agent in Iniquity</em>.<br />
+Thus let me mark Thee for my own,<br />
+And from henceforth for <em>mine</em> be known.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then with out-stretched claws his Eyes<br />
+He <em>twisted</em> diff&#8217;rent ways&mdash;the <em>Skies</em><br />
+Are watch&#8217;d by <em>one</em>, and (strange to tell!)<br />
+The <em>other</em> is the Guard of <em>Hell</em>.<br />
+Then thus&mdash;&ldquo;&#8217;Tis fit thy Eyes shou&#8217;d roll,<br />
+<em>Cross</em> as the purpose of thy Soul,<br />
+Fit that they look a diff&#8217;rent way,<br />
+Like what You <em>do</em>, and what You <em>say</em>;<br />
+Thy <em>Eye-balls</em> now are pois&#8217;d and hung,<br />
+As even as thy <em>Heart</em> and <em>Tongue</em>&mdash;<br />
+Prosper&mdash;to <em>me</em>, to <em>Hell</em> (he cried)<br />
+Be true, but false to all beside.<br />
+<em>Riches are mine</em>&mdash;I will repay<br />
+For ev&#8217;ry Soul you lead astray&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+Give out thyself a Light to shew<br />
+Which way &#8217;tis best to Heav&#8217;n to go;<br />
+But lead the Pilgrims wrong, and shine<br />
+An <em>Ignis fatuus</em> of mine&mdash;<br />
+Draw them thro&#8217; bog, thro&#8217; brake, thro&#8217; mire,<br />
+I&#8217;ll dry them at a <em>rousing Fire</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Magus</em> complacent smil&#8217;d&mdash;his Eyes<br />
+Twinkled with signs of Joy, one flies<br />
+Upward, and t&#8217;other down, like Scales,<br />
+Where this ascends, when that prevails&mdash;<br />
+Then <em>thrice</em> he turn&#8217;d upon his heel,<br />
+And swore Allegiance to the <em>De&#8217;el</em>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Right faithfully his <em>Oath</em> he kept,<br />
+And might each Night before he slept<br />
+Boast of his labours to maintain,<br />
+And spread abroad his <em>Master</em>&#8217;s Reign;<br />
+Might boast the magic of his Rod<br />
+To whip away the <em>Love of God</em>,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
+For all of <em>God</em> he makes appear<br />
+Has nought to <em>love</em>, but all to <em>fear</em>.<br />
+That debt, which <em>Gratitude</em> each day<br />
+Paying, wou&#8217;d still own much to pay;<br />
+Instead of <em>Duty</em> freely paid,<br />
+A <em>Tyrant</em>&#8217;s <em>hard Exaction</em>&#8217;s made.<br />
+Fitted the simple to cajole,<br />
+First of his Wits, and then his Soul,<br />
+He urges fifty false Pretences,<br />
+Preaching his Hearers from their Senses.<br />
+He knows his <em>Master</em>&#8217;s Realm so well,<br />
+His Sermons are a <em>Map of Hell</em>,<br />
+An <em>Ollio</em> made of <em>Conflagration</em>,<br />
+Of <em>Gulphs of Brimstone</em>, and <em>Damnation</em>,<br />
+<em>Eternal Torments</em>, <em>Furnace</em>, <em>Worm</em>,<br />
+<em>Hell-Fire</em>, a <em>Whirlwind</em>, and a <em>Storm</em>,<br />
+With <em>Mammon</em>, <em>Satan</em>, and <em>Perdition</em>,<br />
+And <em>Beelzebub</em> to help the Dish on;<br />
+<em>Belial</em> and <em>Lucifer</em>, and all<br />
+The <em>nick-Names</em> which <em>old Nick</em> we call&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+But he has ta&#8217;en especial care,<br />
+To have nor <em>Sense</em> nor <em>Reason</em> there.<br />
+A thousand scorching Words beside,<br />
+Over his tongue as glibly slide,<br />
+Familiar as a glass of wine,<br />
+Or a Tobacco-pipe on mine;<br />
+That You wou&#8217;d swear he was compleater,<br />
+Than <em>Powell</em>, as a <em>Fire-Eater</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Virgins he will seduce astray,<br />
+Only to shew the shortest Way<br />
+To <em>Heaven</em>, and because it lies<br />
+Above the <em>Zodiac</em> in the Skies,<br />
+That they <em>may better see the Track</em>,<br />
+He lays them down <em>upon their Back</em>.<br />
+Domestic Peace he can destroy,<br />
+And the confusion view with Joy,<br />
+Children from Parents he can draw,<br />
+What&#8217;s <em>Conscience</em>?&mdash;he is safe from <em>Law</em>&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
+The closest Union can divide,<br />
+Take Husbands from their Spouses&#8217; side,<br />
+But it turns out to better Use,<br />
+Wives from their Husbands to seduce;<br />
+And as their Journey lies <em>up-Hill</em>,<br />
+Ev&#8217;ry Incumbrance were an Ill;<br />
+And lest their Speed shou&#8217;d be withstood,<br />
+He takes their <em>Money</em>&mdash;<em>for their Good</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Such is the Agent <em>Satan</em> chose,<br />
+<em>Religion</em>&#8217;s Progress to oppose&mdash;<br />
+Too great the Task for <em>one</em> was thought,<br />
+And <em>under-Agents</em> must be sought&mdash;<br />
+On this high Enterprize intent,<br />
+A troop of <em>evil Sprites</em> he sent,<br />
+Commission&#8217;d, wheresoe&#8217;er they found<br />
+<em>Hearts hollow, rotten, and unsound</em>,<br />
+Within those Breasts accurs&#8217;d to dwell,<br />
+Teaching the Liturgy of <em>Hell</em>.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
+Big with the Charge th&#8217; infernal Crew<br />
+To their belov&#8217;d Appointment flew;<br />
+With busy search thro&#8217; ev&#8217;ry Class,<br />
+Thro&#8217; ev&#8217;ry Rank of Men they pass,<br />
+In ev&#8217;ry Class of Men they find<br />
+Some <em>Hearts</em> corrupted to their Mind,<br />
+Ev&#8217;ry Profession they explore,<br />
+Ev&#8217;ry Profession gives them more;<br />
+The higher Functions ransack&#8217;d, now<br />
+Each vulgar Trade, each sweaty Brow<br />
+Is search&#8217;d, and in them all were found,<br />
+<em>Some hollow, rotten, and unsound</em>.<br />
+In each depraved Bosom dwell<br />
+These <em>Sprites</em>, nor miss their native <em>Hell</em>.<br />
+Hence ev&#8217;ry Blockhead, Knave, and Dunce,<br />
+Start into Preachers all at once.<br />
+Hence Ignorance of ev&#8217;ry size,<br />
+Of ev&#8217;ry shape Wit can devise,<br />
+Altho&#8217; so dull it hardly knows,<br />
+Which are its Fingers, which its Toes,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+Which is the left Hand, which the Right,<br />
+When it is Day, or when &#8217;tis Night,<br />
+Shall yet pretend to keep the Key<br />
+Of <em>God</em>&#8217;s dark Secrets, and display<br />
+His <em>hidden Mysteries</em>, as free<br />
+As if <em>God</em>&#8217;s <em>privy Council</em> He,<br />
+Shall to his Presence rush, and dare<br />
+To raise a <em>pious Riot</em> there.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Lawyers</em> (a Commutation strange!)<br />
+<em>Coke Littleton</em> for <em>Bible</em> change;<br />
+Quit their beloved wrangling <em>Hall</em>,<br />
+More loudly in a <em>Church</em> to bawl:<br />
+<em>Statutes at large</em> are thrown aside,<br />
+And now the <em>Testament</em>&#8217;s their guide;<br />
+And full as fervent, on their Knees,<br />
+For <em>Heav&#8217;n</em> they pray, as once for <em>Fees</em>;<br />
+<em>Plaintiff</em>, <em>Defendant</em>, and <em>my Lord</em>,<br />
+Are banish&#8217;d, and now <em>Faith</em>&#8217;s the Word,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
+Of <em>Briefs</em> no longer now they dream,<br />
+<em>Religion</em> is the only Theme.<br />
+The <em>Physic-Tribe</em> their Art resign,<br />
+And lose the <em>Quack</em> in the <em>Divine</em>;<br />
+<em>Galen</em> lies on the Shelf unread,<br />
+A <em>Pray&#8217;r-Book</em> open in its stead;<br />
+<em>Salvation</em> now is all the <em>Cant</em>,<br />
+<em>Salvation</em> is the <em>only</em> Want.<br />
+&ldquo;<em>Throw Physic to the Dogs</em>,&rdquo; they cry,<br />
+&#8217;Twill never bring you to the Sky.<br />
+Of a <em>New-birth</em> they prate, and prate<br />
+While <em>Midwifry</em> is out of Date;<br />
+Let Fevers, Agues, take their turn,<br />
+To freeze the Patient, or to burn,<br />
+In vain he seeks the Physic Tribe,<br />
+No <em>Recipe</em> will they prescribe,<br />
+But what is sovereign to controul<br />
+The Maladies that hurt the Soul.<br />
+And tho&#8217; while <em>Body-quacks</em>, with <em>Pill</em><br />
+Or <em>Bolus</em>, &#8217;twas their Trade to kill,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+More miserably still, alack!<br />
+For the <em>diseased Soul</em> they <em>quack</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The <em>Sons of War</em> sometimes are known<br />
+To fight with Weapons not their own,<br />
+Ceasing the <em>Sword of Steel</em> to wield,<br />
+They take <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s <em>Sword and Shield</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Ev&#8217;ry <em>Mechanic</em> will commence<br />
+<em>Orator</em>, without <em>Mood</em> or <em>Tense</em>.<br />
+<em>Pudding</em> is <em>Pudding</em> still, they know,<br />
+Whether it has a Plumb or no;<br />
+So, tho&#8217; the Preacher has no skill,<br />
+A <em>Sermon</em> is a <em>Sermon</em> still.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The <em>Bricklay&#8217;r</em> throws his <em>Trowel</em> by,<br />
+And now <em>builds Mansions in the Sky</em>;<br />
+The <em>Cobbler</em>, touch&#8217;d with <em>holy Pride</em>,<br />
+Flings his <em>old Shoes</em>, and <em>Last</em> aside,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
+And now devoutly sets about<br />
+Cobbling of <em>Souls</em> that <em>ne&#8217;er wear out</em>;<br />
+The <em>Baker</em>, now a <em>Preacher</em> grown,<br />
+Finds Man <em>lives not by Bread alone</em>,<br />
+And now his Customers he feeds<br />
+With <em>Pray&#8217;rs</em>, with <em>Sermons</em>, <em>Groans</em> and <em>Creeds</em>;<br />
+The <em>Tinman</em>, mov&#8217;d by Warmth within,<br />
+<em>Hammers</em> the <em>Gospel</em>, just like <em>Tin</em>;<br />
+<em>Weavers inspir&#8217;d</em> their <em>Shuttles</em> leave,<br />
+<em>Sermons</em>, and <em>flimsy Hymns</em> to weave;<br />
+<em>Barbers</em> unreap&#8217;d will leave the Chin,<br />
+To trim, and shave the <em>Man within</em>;<br />
+The <em>Waterman</em> forgets his <em>Wherry</em>,<br />
+And opens a <em>celestial Ferry</em>;<br />
+The <em>Brewer</em>, bit by Phrenzy&#8217;s Grub,<br />
+The <em>Mashing</em> for the <em>Preaching Tub</em><br />
+Resigns, <em>those Waters</em> to explore,<br />
+Which if You drink, you <em>thirst no more</em>;<br />
+The <em>Gard&#8217;ner</em>, weary of his Trade,<br />
+Tir&#8217;d of the Mattock, and the Spade,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+Chang&#8217;d to <em>Apollos</em> in a Trice,<br />
+<em>Waters</em> the <em>Plants of Paradise</em>;<br />
+The <em>Fishermen</em> no longer set<br />
+For <em>Fish</em> the Meshes of their Net,<br />
+But catch, like <em>Peter</em>, <em>Men of Sin</em>,<br />
+For <em>catching</em> is to <em>take them in</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Well had the wand&#8217;ring Spirits sped,<br />
+And thro&#8217; the World their Poison spread,<br />
+Made Lodgments in each tainted Breast;<br />
+And each infected Heart possess&#8217;d.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The <em>wayward Bus&#8217;ness</em> being done,<br />
+<em>Satan</em> to make his Choice begun<br />
+Of <em>under-Ministers</em>, to do<br />
+What <em>One</em> cou&#8217;d not be equal to.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A <em>second Agent</em>, like the first,<br />
+Who on <em>D&aelig;moniac Milk</em> was nurst,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+Had <em>Moorfields</em> trusted to his Care,<br />
+For <em>Satan</em> keeps <em>an Office</em> there.<br />
+<em>Lean</em> is the <em>Saint</em>, and <em>lank</em>, to shew<br />
+That <em>Flesh and Blood to Heav&#8217;n can&#8217;t go</em>;<br />
+His Hair like <em>Candles</em> hangs, a sign<br />
+How bright his <em>inward Candles</em> shine.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Of <em>Satan</em>&#8217;s <em>Agents</em> these <em>the Chief</em>,<br />
+A thousand others lend Relief,<br />
+And take some labour off their Hands,<br />
+Each as th&#8217; <em>internal Sprite</em> commands:<br />
+But working with a <em>diff&#8217;rent Spell</em>,<br />
+They lead by various Ways to <em>Hell</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sickens the Soul? and is its state<br />
+With <em>Sin</em>&#8217;s Disease grown desperate?<br />
+To divers Quacks you may apply,<br />
+And <em>special Nostrums</em> of them buy.<br />
+<em>Tottenham</em>&#8217;s the best accustom&#8217;d Place,<br />
+There <em>Magus squints</em> Men into <em>Grace</em>.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
+<em>W-s&mdash;y</em> sells Powders, Draughts, and Pills,<br />
+Sov&#8217;reign against all sorts of Ills,<br />
+<em>Assurance</em> charms away the Fit,<br />
+Or at least makes it intermit&mdash;<br />
+<em>M-d&mdash;n</em> the springs of Health <em>unlocks</em>,<br />
+And by his Preaching cures the <em>P&mdash;&mdash;</em><br />
+<em>R-m&mdash;ne</em> works greater Wonders still,<br />
+Pulls you by <em>Gravity up-Hill</em>,<br />
+And for whate&#8217;er you do <em>amiss</em>,<br />
+Rewards you with <em>celestial Bliss</em>;<br />
+By your <em>bad Deeds</em> your <em>Faith</em> you shew,<br />
+&#8217;Tis but <em>believe</em>, and <em>up You go</em>.<br />
+<em>B&mdash;rr&mdash;s</em> and <em>W-r&mdash;r</em> set up Shop,<br />
+To sell <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s <em>Pill and Drop</em>,<br />
+They teach their Patients how to fly<br />
+On <em>Voice</em> and <em>Action</em> to the Sky.<br />
+One of the <em>Magi of the East</em>,<br />
+A <em>little perking, puppet-Priest</em>,<br />
+Has got the <em>Harlequino</em>-way,<br />
+His Patients Heav&#8217;nward to convey;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
+And their Salvation to advance,<br />
+A <em>Jig</em> will <em>at the Altar dance</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Such were the <em>Plenipo</em>&#8217;s in <em>Town</em>,<br />
+Who serv&#8217;d the <em>Diabolic</em> Crown.<br />
+Not far remov&#8217;d, a <em>female Friend</em><br />
+Gave Proofs, that <em>Satan</em> might depend<br />
+On her best Service, and support,<br />
+For what serv&#8217;d him, to her was Sport.<br />
+<em>H&mdash;&mdash;</em>, cloy&#8217;d with <em>carnal</em> Bliss,<br />
+Longing to taste how <em>Spirits</em> kiss,<br />
+Bids <em>Chapels</em> for her <em>Saints</em> arise,<br />
+Which are but <em>Bagnios</em> in Disguise;<br />
+Where She may suck her <em>T&mdash;&mdash;</em>&#8217;s Breath,<br />
+Expiring in <em>seraphic</em> Death.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+That <em>Satan</em> better might succeed,<br />
+Of <em>other Agents</em> he had need,<br />
+His <em>Country-Int&#8217;rest</em> to support,<br />
+While <em>Dodd</em> was <em>preaching</em> to the Court.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+The Town was left, and now his Flight<br />
+Bore to the <em>North</em> the horrid <em>Sprite</em>;<br />
+Now had he travers&#8217;d many a League,<br />
+And felt, as <em>Spirits</em> feel, Fatigue,<br />
+When, in a dark, romantic Wood,<br />
+In which an antique Mansion stood,<br />
+He spied, close to a Hovel-door,<br />
+A <em>Saint</em> conversing with his <em>Whore</em>.<br />
+Double he seem&#8217;d, and worn with Age,<br />
+Little adapted to engage<br />
+In <em>Love</em>&#8217;s hot War, too dry his Trunk<br />
+To cope with a lascivious Punk;<br />
+So humble too he seem&#8217;d, You&#8217;d swear,<br />
+<em>Humility</em> herself was there;<br />
+So like a <em>Sawyer</em> too he <em>bows</em>,<br />
+You&#8217;d think that he was <em>Meekness&#8217;</em> Spouse;<br />
+But <em>Satan</em> read his <em>Visage-lines</em>,<br />
+And found some favourable Signs,<br />
+That this <em>meek Saint</em> might, <em>in the Dark</em>,<br />
+Make his <em>Infernalship</em> a <em>Clerk</em>;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+Tho&#8217; muffled in <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s Cloak<br />
+So close, that it might almost choak<br />
+A <em>Pharisee</em>, it might be still<br />
+Only a <em>Cloak</em> to doff at Will;<br />
+His <em>Speech</em> might be an acted Part,<br />
+A Language foreign to his <em>Heart</em>.<br />
+He knew, that tho&#8217; upon his <em>Tongue</em>,<br />
+<em>Religion</em>, a mere <em>Cant-word</em>, hung,<br />
+He might forget it in his <em>Work</em>,<br />
+And be at <em>Heart</em> a very <em>Turk</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Finesse</em> and <em>Trick</em> wou&#8217;d ne&#8217;er succeed,<br />
+If Men wou&#8217;d only learn to read,<br />
+To read the Lines of <em>Nature</em>&#8217;s Pen,<br />
+Drawn in the <em>Countenance of Men</em>,<br />
+Where Truth speaks out distinct and clear,<br />
+If we had but the Trick to hear.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+So far&#8217;d it with <em>our Saint</em>, while He<br />
+Wou&#8217;d seem downright <em>Humility</em>,<br />
+Some honest Features cry&#8217;d aloud,<br />
+&ldquo;Our Master is of Spirit proud.&rdquo;<br />
+Pass him with Bonnet on, his Lip<br />
+Will hang as low as to his Hip;<br />
+His bloated Eye its Venom darts,<br />
+And from its gloomy Socket starts;<br />
+And if the <em>Body</em>&#8217;s frame we scan,<br />
+He cannot be an <em>upright Man</em>.<br />
+And there are Proofs, from which we see<br />
+His <em>Body</em> and his <em>Soul</em> agree.<br />
+Altho&#8217; he is as fond of <em>Pray&#8217;rs</em>,<br />
+As Country Girls of Country Fairs;<br />
+Yet shou&#8217;d he in the Church-yard spy<br />
+Some <em>tempting Wanton</em> passing by,<br />
+E&#8217;en at the Moment that his Knee<br />
+Is bent in Sign of <em>Piety</em>,<br />
+Quick his <em>Devotion</em> leaves the <em>Heart</em>,<br />
+And settles in some <em>other Part</em>;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
+The Book of <em>Pray&#8217;r</em> is shut, and <em>Heav&#8217;n</em><br />
+For the dear Charms of <em>C&oelig;lia</em> giv&#8217;n.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Th&#8217; <em>Arch-Fiend</em> this <em>saintly Sinner</em> spied,<br />
+And with malicious Pleasure ey&#8217;d,<br />
+Well pleas&#8217;d to think that he had found<br />
+Such a <em>Hell-Factor</em> above Ground;<br />
+And thus began th&#8217; infernal Sprite&mdash;<br />
+&ldquo;<em>Libidinoso!</em> if I&#8217;m right!<br />
+Art thou that Son of mine on Earth,<br />
+Whose deeds so loud proclaim thy Birth?<br />
+Of whom so many Strumpets tell<br />
+Such Tales as get Thee Fame in <em>Hell</em>?<br />
+But Children know not whence they spring,<br />
+Whether by Beggar got, or King;<br />
+Yet I by <em>certain Marks</em> can know,<br />
+Whether Thou art <em>my Child</em>, or no.<br />
+Uncase&mdash;and let me see your Waist&mdash;<br />
+For there are private Tokens plac&#8217;d,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
+By which <em>my own</em> I know&mdash;if there<br />
+No secret Lines of mine appear,<br />
+I claim Thee not&mdash;but if I see<br />
+The two <em>Initials</em> <em>F</em> and <em>P</em>,<br />
+Then art Thou <em>mine</em>&mdash;nay, never start&mdash;<br />
+And <em>Heav&#8217;n</em> can claim <em>in Thee</em> no Part&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And now his sapless Trunk he stripp&#8217;d,<br />
+Like Culprits sentenc&#8217;d to be whipp&#8217;d,<br />
+When lo! th&#8217; <em>Initials</em> rose to View,<br />
+And prov&#8217;d the Fiend&#8217;s Conjecture true.<br />
+And all his Waist (detested Brand!)<br />
+Was scribbled with the <em>Dev&#8217;l&#8217;s short Hand</em>;<br />
+Was mark&#8217;d with <em>Whoredom</em>, <em>Lust</em>, and <em>Letchery</em>,<br />
+<em>Malice</em>, <em>Hypocrisy</em>, and <em>Treachery</em>,<br />
+With <em>Envy</em>, <em>Lying</em>, and <em>Betraying</em>,<br />
+With <em>Fasting</em>, <em>Wenching</em>, <em>Fiddling</em>, <em>Praying</em>,<br />
+And all the <em>Catalogue of Sin</em><br />
+Deeply engraven in his Skin&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+Pleas&#8217;d the <em>grim Pow&#8217;r</em> survey&#8217;d, and smil&#8217;d,<br />
+Embrac&#8217;d and said&mdash;&ldquo;My darling Child,<br />
+Blest was the Hour, and blest the Spot,<br />
+Where Thou, <em>my &#8217;Bidin</em>, wert begot.<br />
+Know then, you&#8217;re not what You profess,<br />
+Her Son, whose Lands you do possess;<br />
+No&mdash;Thou&#8217;rt <em>my wayward Son</em>, a Witch<br />
+Litter&#8217;d thee in a loathsome Ditch;<br />
+And (for all Creatures love the Young<br />
+Which from their proper Loins are sprung)<br />
+To this old Mansion thee convey&#8217;d,<br />
+And in an Infant&#8217;s Cradle laid:<br />
+And when the <em>Sorc&#8217;ress</em> plac&#8217;d thee there,<br />
+She stole away the <em>native Heir</em>&mdash;<br />
+Right well hast Thou, my Boy, repaid<br />
+The <em>Obligations</em> on thee laid,<br />
+And to thy Parents&#8217; Int&#8217;rest true<br />
+Hast prov&#8217;d thy Fortunes were thy due&mdash;<br />
+Go on&mdash;and, if thou canst, do more<br />
+(But &#8217;t may not be) than heretofore&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
+Keep the same Path You always trod,<br />
+And be an Enemy to <em>God</em>;<br />
+Apply your Fortune to oppress,<br />
+And harrass <em>Virtue</em> with Distress;<br />
+To hide your Blemishes use Paint,<br />
+To screen the <em>Villain</em> play the <em>Saint</em>;<br />
+Affect <em>Religion</em>, <em>Church</em> frequent,<br />
+Kneel, <em>seem</em> to pray, and keep up <em>Lent</em>&mdash;<br />
+<em>Charity</em> too must be display&#8217;d,<br />
+But <em>Charity in Masquerade</em>;<br />
+Give <em>Alms</em>&mdash;but not to those that need,<br />
+But only for the <em>Gallows feed</em>;<br />
+Whene&#8217;er you meet a <em>preaching Thief</em>,<br />
+Be prompt to reach him out Relief;<br />
+If <em>Liars</em>, <em>Flatt&#8217;rers</em>, <em>Pandars</em>, <em>Pimps</em>,<br />
+Or any of my vagrant Imps,<br />
+Approach Thee, to thy Mansion take,<br />
+And give them Welcome for my Sake;<br />
+But <em>needy Merit</em> must not dare<br />
+To hope with these <em>thy Alms</em> to share,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+Commit <em>that</em> to the <em>Bridewell</em>-lash,<br />
+But give it neither <em>Food</em> nor <em>Cash</em>;<br />
+Distinguish&#8217;d Honour shalt thou gain<br />
+In <em>Pand&aelig;monium</em>, for thy Pain.<br />
+But&mdash;one Word more&mdash;My Mind misgives,<br />
+That <em>Virtue</em> a near <em>Neighbour</em> lives&mdash;<br />
+For in my search to find out Thee,<br />
+I spied in this Vicinity<br />
+A Knot of Friends, where I cou&#8217;d trace<br />
+<em>Honour</em> emblazon&#8217;d in their Face,<br />
+These (for their Thoughts I plainly see)<br />
+Bear no good Will to you or me;<br />
+<em>Foolishly honest</em>, cheap they hold<br />
+<em>Libidinoso</em> and his Gold,<br />
+And will maintain, to Conscience true,<br />
+Their Virtue, spite of Me and You.<br />
+Altho&#8217; your Influence be weak,<br />
+Oppose them for <em>opposing&#8217; Sake</em>,<br />
+Do ev&#8217;ry little Act of Spite,<br />
+And snarl, altho&#8217; You cannot bite&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+Be faithful&mdash;there will come a Day,<br />
+When I thy Services will pay,<br />
+Will bring Thee to my Realm, and make<br />
+Thee <em>Pilot of the burning Lake</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+He said&mdash;and quick as Thought withdrew,<br />
+And to th&#8217; infernal Regions flew;<br />
+Blue sulph&#8217;rous streaks the Peasants scare,<br />
+Marking his passage thro&#8217; the Air&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<em>Libidinoso</em> left behind,<br />
+Began revolving in his Mind<br />
+His Master&#8217;s Promises, and sigh&#8217;d<br />
+To have them fully ratified;<br />
+Then homeward plodded, (but, be sure,<br />
+Before he went, he kiss&#8217;d his Whore)<br />
+Resolv&#8217;d, if possible, on more<br />
+And greater Evils than before.<br />
+All vain was the Resolve&mdash;his Cup<br />
+Of <em>Wickedness</em> was quite fill&#8217;d up,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+And no Cup can another drop<br />
+Contain, when fill&#8217;d up to the Top.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Since all Improvement was forbid,<br />
+What cou&#8217;d he do, but what he did?<br />
+Nought he diminish&#8217;d of the Charge,<br />
+But acts <em>Hell</em>&#8217;s Minister at large.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A <em>Pair of Adamantine Lungs</em>,<br />
+A <em>Throat of Brass</em>, <em>Fame&#8217;s hundred Tongues</em>,<br />
+Time out of Mind have been confest,<br />
+By <em>fifty Poets</em>, at the least,<br />
+Too little to count <em>Hybla&#8217;s Bees</em>,<br />
+The <em>Leaves that cloathe the Forest-Trees</em>;<br />
+The <em>Sands that broider Neptune&#8217;s Side</em>,<br />
+Or <em>Waves</em> that on his Bosom ride;<br />
+The <em>Grains</em> which rich <em>Sicilia</em> yields,<br />
+The <em>Blades</em> with which <em>Spring</em> robes the Fields;<br />
+The <em>Stars</em> which twinkling on the sight<br />
+<em>Jove</em>&#8217;s <em>Threshold</em> make so glorious bright:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
+Or (if we may annex to these<br />
+<em>Modern Impossibilities</em>)<br />
+To reckon up the sum of <em>Knaves</em><br />
+That crawl on <em>Earth</em>, or sleep in <em>Graves</em>,<br />
+To count the <em>Prudes</em> that crowd to <em>Pews</em>,<br />
+While their <em>Thoughts</em> ramble to the <em>Stews</em>,<br />
+<em>Lords</em>, whose sole Merit is their <em>Place</em>,<br />
+<em>Ladies</em>, whose Worth&#8217;s a <em>painted Face</em>,<br />
+Who find <em>my Lord</em> has lost his <em>Force</em><br />
+In <em>Love</em>, and sue for a <em>Divorce</em>;<br />
+Or to abridge, and enter down<br />
+The Names of all the <em>Fools in Town</em>;<br />
+Or number those who <em>live by Ink</em>,<br />
+And <em>write</em>, altho&#8217; they cannot <em>think</em>;<br />
+<em>Critics</em>, who judge, but cannot read,<br />
+And <em>praise</em>, or <em>censure</em>&mdash;as they&#8217;re <em>fee&#8217;d</em>;<br />
+Or count <em>each Bard</em> by <em>Self</em> betray&#8217;d,<br />
+Who thought, when fondled by <em>his Maid</em>,<br />
+It was <em>Melpomene</em> that smil&#8217;d,<br />
+And mark&#8217;d him for her fav&#8217;rite <em>Child</em>,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
+But finds the <em>Harvest</em> of his Lines,<br />
+Is to <em>fast twice</em> for <em>once he dines</em>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+As well the <em>Muse</em> might one of these<br />
+<em>Poets&#8217; Impossibilities</em><br />
+Assay to do, and speed as well,<br />
+As if She should attempt to tell<br />
+The <em>Names</em> and <em>Characters</em> of <em>all</em><br />
+That on the Name of <em>Satan</em> call,<br />
+That preach, and lie, and whine, and cant,<br />
+Soldiers for <em>Hell&#8217;s Church Militant</em>;<br />
+And use the Head, the Heart, the Hand,<br />
+To spread <em>its Doctrines</em> thro&#8217; the Land.<br />
+<em>Arithmetic herself</em> were dumb,<br />
+If task&#8217;d with such an endless Sum;<br />
+Nor wou&#8217;d the <em>Muse</em>, tho&#8217; one more Line<br />
+Wou&#8217;d all the Host of <em>Hell</em> entwine,<br />
+Bestow another drop of Ink,<br />
+To map out an <em>infernal Sink</em>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
+Thou God of Truth and Love! excuse<br />
+The <em>honest Anger</em> of the <em>Muse</em>,<br />
+Warm in <em>thy Cause</em>, while She wou&#8217;d pray<br />
+That Thou from <em>Earth</em> wou&#8217;d&#8217;st sweep away<br />
+Such <em>rotten Saints</em>, who wou&#8217;d conceal<br />
+Their <em>Fraud</em> beneath the Name of <em>Zeal</em>!<br />
+Who, mask&#8217;d with <em>spurious Piety</em>,<br />
+Trample on <em>Reason</em>, <em>Truth</em>, and <em>Thee</em>,<br />
+And, while their hot Career they run,<br />
+Tread on the <em>Gospel</em> of thy Son!<br />
+Who, feigning to adore, make Thee<br />
+A <em>Tyrant-God</em> of Cruelty!<br />
+As if thy <em>right Hand</em> did contain<br />
+Only an Universe of Pain,<br />
+<em>Hell</em> and <em>Damnation</em> in thy <em>Left</em>,<br />
+Of ev&#8217;ry gracious Gift bereft,<br />
+Hence raining Floods of Grief and Woes,<br />
+On those that never were thy Foes,<br />
+Ordaining Torments for the doom<br />
+Of Infants, yet within the Womb:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
+By fifty false Devices more,<br />
+Which <em>Reason</em> never heard before,<br />
+And <em>Methodists</em> alone cou&#8217;d dream,<br />
+Thy boundless <em>Goodness</em> they blaspheme!<br />
+Who (tho&#8217; our <em>Saviour</em>&#8217;s gracious Plan<br />
+Was to teach Happiness to Man,<br />
+By <em>friendly Arguments</em> to win<br />
+The World from Slavery to Sin;<br />
+For He, who all Things knows, well knew,<br />
+That they to Duty are more true,<br />
+Who from a <em>filial Love</em> obey,<br />
+And serve for <em>Gratitude</em>, than they<br />
+Who from a <em>coward Dread of Law</em><br />
+Owe all their <em>Virtue</em> to their <em>Awe</em>;<br />
+Who, tho&#8217; they seem so true, and just,<br />
+So strictly faithful to their Trust,<br />
+Will, if you take the <em>Gallows</em> down,<br />
+Out-pilfer half the <em>Rogues</em> in <em>Town</em>).<br />
+With saucy boldness will presume<br />
+To pass th&#8217; impenetrable gloom,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+And lift the Curtain which we see<br />
+Is drawn betwixt the World and Thee;<br />
+Of nought but endless Torments speak,<br />
+To frighten and appall the weak;<br />
+Dwell on the horrid Theme with glee,<br />
+And fain themselves wou&#8217;d <em>Hangmen</em> be;<br />
+With so much <em>Dread</em> their <em>Hearers</em> fill,<br />
+That they have neither <em>Pow&#8217;r</em>, nor <em>Will</em>,<br />
+Tho&#8217; <em>Heav&#8217;n</em>&#8217;s the Prize, to move a Hand,<br />
+But <em>shuddering</em> and <em>trembling</em> stand.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Quench the hot Flame, O God, that burns,<br />
+And <em>Piety</em> to <em>Phrenzy</em> turns!<br />
+Let not thy <em>holy Name</em> be made<br />
+A <em>Cloak</em> to hide a <em>pilf&#8217;ring Trade</em>!<br />
+Nor suffer that thy <em>sacred Word</em>,<br />
+Be turn&#8217;d to <em>Rhapsody absurd</em>!<br />
+Let it not serve, like <em>Magic Sticks</em>,<br />
+To preface <em>pious Jugglers&#8217;</em> Tricks!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
+Root, root from <em>Earth</em>, these baneful weeds,<br />
+That choak <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s <em>wholesome Seeds</em>!<br />
+Give them the headlong Winds to bear,<br />
+And scatter in a desart Air!<br />
+Grind them to Powder, that no more<br />
+They sprout and grow as heretofore!<br />
+Burn the rank stalks, and let the flame<br />
+Thy Garden&#8217;s hot luxuriance tame,<br />
+Nor let it Flow&#8217;r, or Plant produce,<br />
+But what yields <em>Ornament</em> or <em>Use</em>!</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+But soft&mdash;my <em>Muse</em>! thy Breath recall&mdash;<br />
+Turn not <em>Religion</em>&#8217;s Milk to Gall!<br />
+Let not thy <em>Zeal</em> within thee nurse<br />
+A <em>holy Rage</em>, or <em>pious Curse</em>!<br />
+Far other is the <em>heav&#8217;nly Plan</em>,<br />
+Which the <em>Redeemer</em> gave to Man,<br />
+Who taught the World in Peace to live,<br />
+And e&#8217;en <em>our Enemies</em> forgive!</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
+Live then, <em>ye Wretches</em>! to declare,<br />
+How long <em>our God</em> with Men <em>can bear</em>!<br />
+A living Monument to be<br />
+Of the <em>Almighty</em>&#8217;s Clemency!<br />
+Who still is good, altho&#8217; You preach<br />
+Yourselves almost &#8217;bove <em>Mercy</em>&#8217;s reach;<br />
+And, tho&#8217; his goodness You resist,<br />
+Can even spare a <em>Methodist</em>.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: .8em; font-size: 1.3em;">
+F I N I S<span style="margin-left: -.5em;">.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 95%;" />
+<h2>WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK</h2>
+
+<h2>MEMORIAL LIBRARY</h2>
+
+<h3>UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES</h3>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 108px;">
+<img src="images/img073.png" width="108" height="62" alt="decoration" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h1>
+
+<h4>PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h1>
+
+<h4>PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT</h4>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 108px;">
+<img src="images/img073.png" width="108" height="62" alt="decoration" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1948-1949</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>16.</td>  <td align='left'>Henry Nevil Payne, <em>The Fatal Jealousie</em> (1673).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>17.</td>  <td align='left'>Nicholas Rowe, <em>Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear</em> (1709).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>18.</td>  <td align='left'>Anonymous, &ldquo;Of Genius,&rdquo; in <em>The Occasional Paper</em>, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), </td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'>and Aaron Hill, Preface to <em>The Creation</em> (1720).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1949-1950</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>19.</td>  <td align='left'>Susanna Centlivre, <em>The Busie Body</em> (1709).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>20.</td>  <td align='left'>Lewis Theobald, <em>Preface to the Works of Shakespeare</em> (1734).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>22.</td>  <td align='left'>Samuel Johnson, <em>The Vanity of Human Wishes</em> (1749), and two <em>Rambler</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'> papers (1750).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>23.</td>  <td align='left'>John Dryden, <em>His Majesties Declaration Defended</em> (1681).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1951-1952</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>26.</td>  <td align='left'>Charles Macklin, <em>The Man of the World</em> (1792).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>31.</td>  <td align='left'>Thomas Gray, <em>An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard</em> (1751), and <em>The</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Eton College Manuscript</em>.</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1952-1953</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>41.</td>  <td align='left'>Bernard Mandeville, <em>A Letter to Dion</em> (1732).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1962-1963</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>98.</td>  <td align='left'>Selected Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert&#8217;s <em>Temple</em> (1697).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1964-1965</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>109.</td>  <td align='left'>Sir William Temple, <em>An Essay Upon the Original and Nature of Government</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'>(1680).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>110.</td>  <td align='left'>John Tutchin, <em>Selected Poems</em> (1685-1700).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>111.</td>  <td align='left'>Anonymous, <em>Political Justice</em> (1736).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>112.</td>  <td align='left'>Robert Dodsley, <em>An Essay on Fable</em> (1764).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>113.</td>  <td align='left'>T. R., <em>An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning</em> (1698).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>114.</td>  <td align='left'><em>Two Poems Against Pope</em>: Leonard Welsted, <em>One Epistle to Mr. A. Pope</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'>(1730), and Anonymous, <em>The Blatant Beast</em> (1742).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1965-1966</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>115.</td>  <td align='left'>Daniel Defoe and others, <em>Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal</em>.</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>116.</td>  <td align='left'>Charles Macklin, <em>The Covent Garden Theatre</em> (1752).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>117.</td>  <td align='left'>Sir Roger L&#8217;Estrange, <em>Citt and Bumpkin</em> (1680).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>118.</td>  <td align='left'>Henry More, <em>Enthusiasmus Triumphatus</em> (1662).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>119.</td>  <td align='left'>Thomas Traherne, <em>Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation</em> (1717).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>120.</td>  <td align='left'>Bernard Mandeville, <em>Aesop Dress&#8217;d or a Collection of Fables</em> (1740).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1966-1967</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>123.</td>  <td align='left'>Edmond Malone, <em>Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Mr. Thomas Rowley</em> (1782).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>124.</td>  <td align='left'>Anonymous, <em>The Female Wits</em> (1704).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>125.</td>  <td align='left'>Anonymous, <em>The Scribleriad</em> (1742). Lord Hervey, <em>The Difference</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Between Verbal and Practical Virtue</em> (1742).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1967-1968</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>129.</td>  <td align='left'>Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to <em>Terence&#8217;s Comedies</em> (1694) and <em>Plautus&#8217;s</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Comedies</em> (1694).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>130.</td>  <td align='left'>Henry More, <em>Democritus Platonissans</em> (1646).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>132.</td>  <td align='left'>Walter Harte, <em>An Essay on Satire, Particularly on the Dunciad</em> (1730).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1968-1969</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>133.</td>  <td align='left'>John Courtenay, <em>A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral Character</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>of the Late Samuel Johnson</em> (1786).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>134.</td>  <td align='left'>John Downes, <em>Roscius Anglicanus</em> (1708).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>135.</td>  <td align='left'>Sir John Hill, <em>Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise</em> (1766).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>136.</td>  <td align='left'>Thomas Sheridan, <em>Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course of</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Lectures on Elocution and the English Language</em> (1759).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>137.</td>  <td align='left'>Arthur Murphy, <em>The Englishman From Paris</em> (1736).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1969-1970</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>138.</td>  <td align='left'>[Catherine Trotter], <em>Olinda&#8217;s Adventures</em> (1718).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>139.</td>  <td align='left'>John Ogilvie, <em>An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients</em> (1762).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>140.</td>  <td align='left'><em>A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling</em> (1726) and <em>Pudding Burnt to Pot</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling</em> (1727).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>141.</td>  <td align='left'>Selections from Sir Roger L&#8217;Estrange&#8217;s <em>Observator</em> (1681-1687).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>142.</td>  <td align='left'>Anthony Collins, <em>A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'>(1729).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>143.</td>  <td align='left'><em>A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account of the</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver</em> (1726).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>144.</td>  <td align='left'><em>The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace&#8217;s Art of Poetry</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'>(1742).</td>  </tr>
+
+<tr>  <th colspan="2">1970-1971</th>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>145-146.</td>  <td align='left'>Thomas Shelton, <em>A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing</em> (1642) and</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Tachygraphy</em> (1647).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>147-148.</td>  <td align='left'><em>Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson</em> (1782).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>149.</td>  <td align='left'><em>Poeta de Tristibus: or, the Poet&#8217;s Complaint</em> (1682).</td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'>150.</td>  <td align='left'>Gerard Langbaine, <em>Momus Triumphans: or, the Plagiaries of the English</em></td>  </tr>
+<tr>  <td align='right'></td>  <td align='left'><em>Stage</em> (1687).</td>  </tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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. Subsequent publications may be
+checked in the annual prospectus.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 97px;">
+<img src="images/img076t.png" width="97" height="36" alt="decoration" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h4>The Augustan Reprint Society</h4>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">William Andrews Clark</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Memorial Library</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES<br />
+2520 Cimarron Street (at West Adams), Los Angeles, California 90018</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 97px;">
+<img src="images/img076b.png" width="97" height="35" alt="decoration" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><em>Make check or money order payable to</em><br />
+THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE METHODIST***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 27776-h.txt or 27776-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/7/7/27776">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/7/7/27776</a></p>
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+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).
+
+
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