But, for this money, was a courtier found, Begg'd Ridway's pardon: Duncote now doth cry, "Robb'd both of money, and the law's relief, The courtier is become the greater thief." IX. TO ALL TO WHOM I WRITE. AY none whose scatter'd names honour my book, For strict degrees of rank or title look: 'Tis 'gainst the manners of an epigram; And I a poet here, no herald am. X. TO MY LORD IGNORANT. HOU call'st me POET, as a term of shame; XI. ON SOMETHING, THAT WALKS SOMEWHERE. T court I met it, in clothes brave enough, To be a courtier; and looks grave enough, To seem a statesman: as I near it came, It made me a great face; I ask'd the name. A Lord, it cried, buried in flesh and blood, And such from whom let no man hope least good, For I will do none; and as little ill, For I will dare none: Good Lord, walk dead still. XII. ON LIEUTENANT SHIFT. HIFT, here in town, not meanest amongst That haunt Pickt-hatch, Marsh-Lambeth, and Keeps himself, with half a man, and defrays At dice his borrow'd money: which, god pays. 5 That haunt Pickt-hatch, Marsh-Lambeth, and White-friars.] The respective resorts of debauchees, thieves, and fraudulent debtors. God pays.] The impudent plea for charity, or rather for running in debt, advanced by disbanded soldiers, of whom there were many at this period, and more who pretended to be such. The expression occurs in the London Prodigal, in a passage much to the purpose: Sir Arthur. I am a soldier and a gentleman. Lace. I neither doubt your valour nor your love, For says (tries) see vol. v. p. 163. Calls for his stool, adorns the stage: god pays. Not his poor cockatrice but he betrays XIII. TO DOCTOR EMPIRIC. HEN men a dangerous disease did 'scape, From my XIV. TO WILLIAM CAMDEN. AMDEN! most reverend head, to whom I owe (How nothing's that?) to whom my country Owes The great renown, and name wherewith she goes! Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave, More high, more holy, that she more would crave. "They gave a cock to Esculape.] The last request which Socrates made to his friends was, that they would offer this popular sacrifice for him. This has led some to imagine that the poison had begun to take effect, and that he was become light-headed. He was quite as rational as his critics; and, in perfect consistency with his creed, viewed his death as a recovery to life. 8 Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe All that I am in arts, all that I know.] Camden was our poet's master at Westminster-school; and gratitude has led him What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things! What sight in searching the most antique springs! What weight, and what authority in thy speech! Men scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach. Pardon free truth, and let thy modesty, Which conquers all, be once o'ercome by thee. XV. ON COURT-WORM. LL men are worms; but this no man. In silk 'Twas brought to court first wrapt, and white Where, afterwards, it grew a butterfly, to make a proper acknowledgment for his care and pains in teaching him, both by this epigram, and the dedication of Every Man in his Humour to him. WHAL. These are not the only places in which Camden is mentioned with respect. In the King's Entertainment, Jonson terms him “the glory and light of the kingdom," and in the Masque of Queens, he introduces him with similar commendation. No man ever possessed a more warm and affectionate heart than this great poet, whose name is made synonymous with envy and ingratitude, by every desperate blockhead who reprints an old play or a poem. in silk 9 'Twas brought to court, &c.] Pope had this epigram in his thoughts when he wrote his Epistle to Arbuthnot: "Let Sporus tremble. What, that thing of silk! Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk." But he has confounded the metaphor, which is preserved by Jonson with equal accuracy and beauty. H XVI. TO BRAINHARDY. ARDY, thy brain is valiant, 'tis confest, Thou more; that with it every day dar'st jest Thy self into fresh brawls: when, call'd upon, Scarce thy week's swearing brings thee off, of one. So in short time, thou art in arrearage grown Some hundred quarrels, yet dost thou fight none; Nor need'st thou for those few, by oath releast, Make good what thou dar'st do in all the rest. Keep thy self there, and think thy valour right; He that dares damn himself, dares more than fight. XVII. TO THE LEARNED CRITIC. AY others fear, fly, and traduce thy name, As guilty men do magistrates; glad I, That wish my poems a legitimate fame, Charge them, for crown, to thy sole censure hie. And but a sprig of bays, given by thee, Shall outlive garlands, stol'n from the chaste tree.1 XVIII. TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER. O thee, my way in Epigrams seems new, seen 1 Shall outlive garlands stolen from the chaste tree,] i. e. the laurel; Daphne, rather than consent to the desires of Apollo, being changed into that tree. WHAL. |