A Very Heroical EPISTLE FROM MY Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON.
The ARGUMENT.
Dol-Common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride, and having written him a most lamentable Letter, his Lordship sends her the following answer.
IF you're deceived, it is not by my cheat,
For all disguises are below the great.
What Man or Woman upon earth can say
I ever us'd 'em well above a day?
How is it then that I inconstant am?
He changes not, who alwayes is the same.
In my dear self, I center every thing,
My Servants, Friends, my Mistress, and my King,
Nay Heaven and earth to that one point I bring.
Well-manner'd, honest, generous and stout,
(Names by dull Fools to plague mankind found out)
Should I regard, I must my self constrain,
And 'tis my maxim to avoid all pain.
You fondly look for what none e're could find
Deceive your self, and then call me unkind;
And by false reasons would my falshood prove,
For 'tis as natural to change as Love.
You may as justly at the Sun repine
Because alike it does not alwayes shine.
No glorious thing was ever made to stay,
My Blazing Star but visits and away;
As Fatal too, it shines as those i'th' skies,
'Tis never seen but some great Lady dies.
The boasted favour you so precious hold
To me's no more than changing of my gold.
What e're you gave, I paid you back in bliss,
Then where's the obligation, pray, of this?
If heretofore you found grace in my eyes,
Be thankful for it, and let that suffice.
But Women Beggarlike, still haunt the door
Where they've receiv'd a Charity before.
O happy Sultan! whom we barbarous call,
How much refin'd art thou above us all!
Who envies not the joys of thy Serrail!
Thee, like some God, the trembling crowd adore,
Each man's thy slave, and Woman-kind thy Whore.
Methinks I see thee underneath the shade
Of golden Canopies supinely laid;
Thy crowching slaves all silent as the night,
But at thy nod all active as the light.
Secure in solid Sloath thou there dost raign,
And feel'st the joys of love without th [...] pain.
Each Female courts thee with a wishing eye,
While thou with awful pride walk'st careless by.
Till thy kind pledge at last mark's out the Dame
Thou fanciest most to quench thy present flame.
Then from thy bed submissive she retires,
And thankful for th [...] grace no more requires▪
No loud reproach, nor fond unwelcome sound
Of Womens tongues thy sacred ear dares wound.
If any do, a nimble Mute straight tye's
The true love knot, and stops her foolish cries.
Thou fear'st no injur'd Kinsman's threatning blade,
Nor Midnight ambushes by Rivals laid.
While here with aking hearts our joys we taste
Disturb'd by Swords like Damocles his feast,
Epigram upon my Lord All-pride.
Bursting with pride the loath'd Impostu [...]e swel's,
Prick him he shed's his venom straight and smel's,
But is so lewd, a Scribler that he writes
With as much force to nature as he fights.
Harden'd in shame, 'tis such a baffled Fop
That every School-boy whips him like a Top.
And with his arm and heart his brain's so weak,
That his starv'd fancy is compell'd to rake
Among the excrements of others wit
To make a stinking meal of what they shit.
So Swine for nasty meat to dunghills run,
And toss their gruntling Snouts up when they've done.
Against his stars the Coxcomb ever strives,
And to be something they forbid contrives.
With a red Nose, splay-foot, and goggle eye,
A plowman's looby meen, face all awry,
A filthy breath, and every loathsome mark
The Punchinello set's up for a Spark.
With equal self-conceit he takes up arms,
But with such vile successe his part perform's,
That he burlesque's the trade, and what is best
In others, turn's like Harlequin tojest.
So have I seen at Smithfield's wondrous fair
(When all his Brother Monsters flourish there)
A lubbard Elephant divert the Town
With making legs and shooting off a gun.
Go where he will he never find's a Friend,
Shame and derision all his steps attend,
Alike abroad, at home, i'th Camp and Court
This Knight o'th' burning pestle makes us sport.
Printed in the Year, 1679.