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Nor took the Pains t'addrefs and fue;
Nor plaid the Masquerade to wooe.
Difdain'd to stay for Friends Confents,
Nor juggl'd about Settlements:
Did need no Licence, nor no Prieft,
Nor Friends, nor Kindred to affift;
Nor Lawyers to joyn Land and Money,
In th'holy State of Matrimony;
Nor would endure to ftay until
They'd got the very Bride's Good-will:
But took a wife, and fhorter Courfe
To win the Ladies, down-right Force:
And when they had 'em at their Pleasure,
They talk'd of Love and Flames at Leifurę.
For which the Dames, in Contemplation
Of that beft Way of Application,

Prov'd nobler Wives than e'er were known
By Suit or Treaty to be won:

And fuch as all Pofterity,

Could never equal, or come nigh.

Hold, hold, quoth Hudibras; foft Fire,

They fay, does make fweet Malt: Good Squire :
The Quirks and Cavils thou doft make

Are falfe, and built upon Mistake.

Force never yet a gen'rous Heart did gain, We yield on Parley, but are ftorm'd in vain. Conftraint in all things makes the Pleafure lefs,

Hud.

Sweet is the Love which comes with Willingness. Dryd. Auren.
REASON. See Man.

Dim as the borrow'd Beams of Moon and Stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring Travellers,
Is Reafon to the Soul: And as on high,
Thofe rowling Fires difcover but the Sky,
Not light us here: So Reafons glimm'ring Ray
Was lent, not to affure our doubtful Way,
But guide us upward to a better Day.
And as thofe nightly Tapers difappear,

When Day's bright Lord afcends our Hemifphere,

So pale grows Reafon at Religion's Sight;

}

So dies, and fo diffolves in fupernat'ral Light. Dryd. Rel. Laici.

For Reason is a Guide we muft refign,

When the Authority is Divine.

Reason, the Power to ghefs at Right and Wrong!

The twinkling Lamp

Of wand'ring Life, that wakes and winks by turns;

Cowl.

(Bride.

Fooling the Follower betwixt Shade and Shining. Cong. Mourn.

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Reafon was given to curb our headstrong Will,
And yet but shews a weak Phyfician's Skill;
Gives nothing while the raging Fit does laft
But frays to cure it when the Worft is pafs'd:
Reafon's a Staff for Age, when Nature's gone;

;

But Youth is ftrong enough to walk alone. Dryd. Cong, of Graz.
Our Paffions gone, and Reafon in her Throne,
Amaz'd we fee the Mifchiefs we have done:
After a Tempeft, when the Winds are laid,
The calm Sea wonders at the Wrecks it made.
Oh why did Heav'n leave Man fo weak Defence,
To truft frail Reason with the Rule of Senfe ?
'Tis overpois'd, and kick'd up in the Air;

While Senfe weighs down the Scale, and keeps it there:
Or, like a Captive King, 'tis born away,

And forc'd to count'nance its own Rebels Sway:
Oh no! our Reafon was not vainly lent,
Nor is a Slave, but by its own Confent:
If Reafon on his Subje&ts Triumph wait,
An eafy King deferves no better Fate.

RELIGION.
The common Cry is ever Religion's Teft;
The Turk's is at Conftantinople best;
Idols in India, Popery at Rome;

Wal

Dryd. Cong. of Grau.

And our own Worship only true at home:
And true but for the Time; 'tis hard to know
How long we pleafe it fhall continue fo.
This Side to Day, and that to Morrow burns;
So all are God-A'mighty in their Turns.

Turning of Religion's made

The means to turn and wind a Trade:
And tho' fome change it for a worfe,
They put themfelves into a Courfe.
For all Religions flock together,
Like tame and wild Fowl of a Feather.
Hence 'tis Hypocrify as well,

Will ferve t'improve a Church, as Zeal:
As Perfecution or Promotion

Do equally advance Devotion.

To prove Religion true

If either Wit or Suff'rings could fuffice,

All Faiths afford the Conftant and the Wife;
And yet, ev'n they, by Education fway'd,

In Age defend what Infancy obey'd.

All Faiths are to their own Believers juft,
For none believe, becaufe they will, but muft.
By Education most have been misled,
So they believe, becaufe they fo were bred.

Dryd.

Hud.

Dryd. Ind. Emp.

Dryd. Tyr. Love:

The

The Priest continues what the Nurfe began,

And thus the Child impofes on the Man. Dryd. Hind and Panth.
Look round, how Providence beftows alike
Sun-fhine and Rain, to blefs the fruitful Year,
On diff'rent Nations, all of diff'rent Faiths:
And (tho' by feveral Names and Titles worship'd)
Heav'n takes the various Tribute of their Praife;
Since all agree to own, at leaft to mean,
One beft, one greateft, only Lord of All.

All under various Names adore and love

Row. Tamerl.

One Power Immenfe, which ever rules above. Dryd. Ind. Emp.
If you've Religion, keep it to your felf;
Atheists will elfe make ufe of Toleration,
And laugh you out on't. Never fhew Religion,
Unless you mean to pass for Knaves of Confcience,
And cheat believing Fools that think you honeft.
REPENTANCE. See Nunnery.

Otw. Orph.

Thefe Books teach holy Sorrow and Contrition
And Penitence. Is it become an Art then?
A Trick that lazy, dull, luxurious Gown-men
Can teach us to do over? I'll no more on't:
I have more real Anguish in my Heart,
Than all their Pedant Difcipline e'er knew.
Thoughts cannot form themfelves in Words fo horrid,
As can exprefs my Guilt.

Let that Night,

Row. Fair Pen.

Dryd. All for Love.

That guilty Night be blotted from the Year;
Let not the Voice of Mirth or Mufick know't.
Let it be dark and defolate: No Stars

To glitter o'er it: Let it wifh for Light,

Yet want it ftill, and vainly wait the Dawn:

For 'twas the Night that gave me up to Shame. Row. Fair Pen.
This fatal Form, that drew on my undoing,

Fafting and Tears and Hardship fhall deftroy;
Nor Light, nor Food, nor Comfort will I know,
Nor ought that may continue hated Life.

Then when you fee me meagre, wan, and chang'd,
Stretch'd at my Length, and dying in my Cave,
On that cold Earth I mean fhall be my Grave,
Perhaps you may relent, and fighing fay,

At length her Tears have wafh'd her Stains away.

At length 'tis time her Punishment fhou'd ceafe,

Dye then poor fuff'ring Wretch, and be at Peace. Row. Fair Pen.
Let Wretches, loaded hard with Guilt, as I am,

Bow with the Weight, and groan beneath the Burthen,
Creep with the Remnant of the Strength they've left,

Before the Footstool of the Heav'n they've injur'd, Orw.Ven. Pref.

Cc 4

Oh

Oh my Offence is rank! it smells to Heav'n;
It has the primal eldeft Curfe upon it,
A Brother's Murther! Pray, I

cannot,

Tho' Inclination be as fharp as Will,
My ftronger Guilt defeats my strong Intent,
And like a Man, to double Bus'nefs bound,
I ftand in Paufe where I fhall first begin,
And both negle&t: What if this curfed Hand
Were thicker than it felf with Brother's Blood,
Is there not Rain enough in the sweet Heav'ns,
To wash it White as Snow? Whereto ferves Mercy,
But to confront the Vifage of Offence?
And what's in Prayer but this twofold Force,
To be foreftalled e'er we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up:
My Fault is paft: But oh what Form of Prayer
Can ferve my Turn? Forgive me my foul Murther!
That cannot be, fince I am still poffefs'd
Of thofe Effe&ts for which I did the Murther!
My Crown, my own Ambition, and my Queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain th'Offence?
No! while our former Flames remain within,
Repentance is but want of Pow'r to fin.

Shak. Hami.

Dryd. Pal. & Arc.

In the corrupted Currents of this World,
Offence's gilded Hand may fhove by Juftice:
And oft 'tis feen, the wicked Prize it felf
Buys out the Law: But 'tis not so above.
There is no Shuffling, there the Action lies
In its true Nature; and we our felves compell'd
Ev'n to the Teeth and Forehead of our Faults,
To give in Evidence: What then? What rests?
Try what Repentance can! what can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched State! Oh Bofom black as Death!
Oh limed Soul! that, ftruggling to be free,
Art more ingag'd: Help, Angels! make Effay!
Bow ftubborn Knees, and Heart with Strings of Steel,
Be foft as Sinews of the new-born Babe.
All may be well.

For true repentance never comes too late
Affoon as born, the makes herself a Shrowd,
The weeping Mantle of a fleecy Cloud;
And fwift as Thought her airy Journey takes,

Shak. Hami.

Her Hand Heav'n's Azure Gate with trembling ftrikes,
The Stars do with Amazement on her Look,

She tells her Story in fo fad a Tone,

That Angels fart from Blifs, and give a Groan. Lee Maf. of Par

So

So cheers fome pious Saint a dying Sinner,
Who trembled at the Thoughts of Pains to come,
With Heav'ns Forgiveness, and the Hopes of Mercy :
At length the Tumult of his Soul appeas'd,
And ev'ry Doubt and anxious Scruple eas'd,
Boldly he proves the dark uncertain Road;
The Peace his holy Comforter bestow'd,

Guides and protects him like a Guardian God. Row. Tamerl.

REPUTATION.

Good Name in Man or Woman,

Is the immediate Jewel of our Souls.

Who fteals my Purfe fteals Trafh; 'tis fomething, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been Slave to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good Name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed.

RESURRECTION.

Shak. Othel.

Th'Arch-Angel's Trumpet fhakes the trembling Ground:

The ftartled Dead awaken at the Sound;

The Grave refigns her antient Spoils, and all
Death's adamantine Prifons burft and fall:
The Souls that did their forc'd Departure mourn,
To the fame Bodies with fwift Flight return.
The crowding Atoms re-unite apace,

All without Tumult know and take their Place:
Th'affembled Bones leap quick into their Frame,
And the warm Blood renews a brighter Flame.
The quicken'd Duft feels fresh and youthful Heats,
While its old Task the beating Heart repeats.
The Eyes, enliven'd with new vital Light,
Open, admiring whence they had their Sight.
The Veins too twine their bloody Arms around
The Limbs, and with red leaping Life abound.
Hard-twisted Nerves new-brace, and fafter bind
The close-knit Joints, no more to be disjoin'd.
Strong new-fpun Threads immortal Mufcles make,
That juftly fix'd, their antient Figure take.
Brisk Spirits take their upper Seats, and dart
Thro' their known Channels thence to ev'ry Part.
The Men now draw their long forgotten Breath,
And ftriving, break th'unweildy Chains of Death.
Victorious Life to ev'ry Grave reforts,
And rifles Death's inhofpitable Courts:
Its Vigour through thofe dark Dominions fpread,
From all their gloomy Manfions frees the Dead.

Now

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