25 Codrus had but one Bed, fo fhort to boot,
That his fhort Wife's fhort Legs hung dangling out;
His Cupboard's Head fix Earthen Pitchers grac'd,
Beneath 'em was his trufty Tankard plac'd.
And, to fupport this Noble Plate, there lay
A bending Chiron caft from honeft Clay;
His few Greek Books a rotten Chest contain'd;
Whofe Covers much of Mouldinefs complain'd:
Where Mice and Rats devour'd Poetick Bread;
And with Heroick Verse luxuriously were fed.
'Tis true, poor Codrus nothing had to boast,
And yet poor Codrus all that nothing loft.
Begg'd naked through the Streets of wealthy Rome;
And found not one to feed, or take him home.
But if the Palace of Arturius burn,

The Nobles change their Cloaths, the Matrons mourn;
The City-Prætor will no Pleadings hear;
The very Name of Fire we hate and fear:
And look aghaft, as if the Gauls were here.
While yet it burns, th' officious Nation flies,
Some to condole, and fome to bring Supplies:
One fends him Marble to rebuild, and one
With naked Statues of the Parian Stone,
The Work of Polyclete, that feem to live;
While others Images for Altars give;

One Books and Skreens, and Pallas to the Breaft;
Another Bags of Gold, and he gives beft.
Childless Arturius, vaftly rich before,
Thus by his Loffes multiplies his Store:
Sufpected for Accomplice to the Fire,
That burnt his Palace but to build it higher.

25 Codrus, a Learned Man, very poor: by his Books fuppos'd to be a Poet. For, in all probability, the Heroick

Verfes here mention'd which
Rats and Mice devour'd, were
Homer's Works,

But

But, cou'd you be content to bid adieu
To the dear Play House, and the Players too:
Sweet Country Seats are purchas'd ev'ry where,
With Lands and Gardens, at lefs Price than here
You hire a dark fome Dog-hole by the Year.
A fmall Convenience decently prepar'd.
A fhallow Well that rifes in your Yard,
That spreads his eafie Chrystal Streams around,
And waters all the pretty Spot of Ground.
There, love the Fork, thy Garden cultivate,
And give thy frugal Friends 26a Pythagorean Treat,
'Tis fomewhat to be Lord of fome fmall Ground
In which a Lizard may, at least, turn round.

'Tis frequent, here, for want of Sleep to die; Which Fumes of undigested Feasts deny;

And, with imperfect Heat, in languid Stomachs fry.
What House fecure from Noife the Poor can keep,
When ev'n the Rich can scarce afford to fleep;
So dear it cofts to purchase Reft in Rome;
And hence the Sources of Diseases come.
The Drover who his Fellow-Drover meets
In narrow Paffages of winding Streets;
The Waggoners that curse their standing Teams,
Wou'd wake ev'n drufie Drufius from his Dreams.
And yet the Wealthy will not brook delay,
But fweep above our Heads, and make their way;
In lofty Litters born, and read, and write,
Or fleep at eafe: The Shutters make it Night.
Yet ftill he reaches, firft, the publick Place:
The Preafe before him ftops the Client's pace.
The Crowd that follows crufh his panting Sides,
And trip his Heels; he walks not, but he rides.
One elbows him, one juftles in the Shole:
A Rafter breaks his Head, or Chairman's Pole:

w

26 A Pythagorean Treat: He means Herbs, Roots, Fruits, and Sallads,

Stock

Stockin'd with loads of fat Town-Dirt he goes;

And fome Rogue-Soldier, with his Hob-nail'd Shoes,
Indents his Legs behind in bloody rows.

See with what Smoke our Doles we celebrate:
A hundred Guefts, invited, walk in ftate:

A hundred hungry Slaves, with their Dutch Kitchins wait.
Huge Pans the Wretches on their Head muft bear,
Which fcarce 27 Gygantick Corbulo cou'd rear:
Yet they must walk upright beneath the Load;
Nay, run, and running blow the fparkling Flames abroad.
Their Coats, from botching newly brought, are torn.
Unweildly Timber-trees in Waggons born,
Stretch'd at their length, beyond their Carriage lie;
Tha nod, and threaten Ruin from on high.
For, fhou'd their Axel break, its overthrow

Would cruth, and pound to duft, the Crowd below:
Nor Friends their Friends, nor Sires their Sons could know:
Nor Limbs, nor Bones, nor Carcafs would remain:
But a mash'd heap, a Hotchpotch of the Slain.
One vaft Deftruction; not the Soul alone,
But Rodies, like the Soul, invifibly are flown.
Mean-time, unknowing of their Fellows Fate,
The Servants wash the Platter, fcour the Plate,
Then blow the Fire, with puffing Cheeks, and lay
The Rubbers, and the Bathing sheets difplay;
And oyl them firft; and each is handy in his way.
But he, for whom this bufie care they take,
Poor Ghoft, is wandring by the Stygian Lake:

27 Gygantick Corbulo. Corbuls was a famous General in Neve's time, who conquer'd Armenia, and was afterwards put to Death by that Tyrant, when he was in Greece, in reward

}

}

of his great Services. His Stature was not only tall, a bove the ordinary Size: but he was alfo proportionably ftrong,

Af

Affrighted with 28 the Ferryman's grim Face;
New to the Horrours of that uncouth Place;
His Paffage begs with unregarded Pray'r:
And wants two Farthings to difcharge his Fare.
Return we to the Dangers of the Night;
And, firft, behold our Houfes dreadful height:
From whence come broken Potsherds tumbling down;
And leaky Ware, from Garret Windows thrown:
Well may they break our Heads, that mark the flinty Stone.
'Tis want of Sense to fup abroad too late;
Unless thou first haft fettled thy Estate.

As many Fates attend thy Steps to meet,
As there are waking Windows in the Street.
Blefs the good Gods, and think thy Chance is rare
To have a Piss-pot only for thy fhare.

The fcouring Drunkard, if he does not fight
Before his Bed-time, takes no reft that Night.
Paffing the tedious Hours in greater pain

Than 2ftern Achilles, when his Friend was flain: 'Tis fo ridic❜lous, but fo true withal,

A Bully cannot fleep without a Braul:

Yet tho' his youthful Blood be fir'd with Wine,
He wants not Wit the Danger to decline:
Is cautious to avoid the Coach and Six,
And on the Laquies will no Quarrel fix.

His Train of Flambeaus, and Embroider'd Coat,
May privilege my Lord to walk fecure on Foot.
But me, who muft by Moon-light homeward bend,
Or lighted only with a Candle's end,

Poor me he fights, if that be Fighting, where
He only Cudgels, and I only bear.

He ftands, and bids me ftand: I must abide;
For he's the stronger, and is Drunk beside.

28 The Ferry-man's,&c. Charon the Ferry-man of Hell, whofe Fare was a Half-penny for every Soul,

29 Stern Achilles. The Friend of Achilles, was Patroclus, who was flain by Hector,

Where

Where did

you

whet your

Knife to night, he cries,

And fhred the Leeks that in your Stomach rise?

Whose windy Beans have ftuft your Guts, and where
Have your black Thumbs been dipt in Vinegar?
With what Companion-Cobler have you fed,
On old Ox-cheeks, or He-Goats tougher Head?
What, are you dumb? Quick, with your Answer, quick,
Before my Foot falutes you with a Kick.

Say, in what nafty Cellar under Ground,

Or what Church-Porch, your Roguefhip may be found?
Anfwer, or answer not, 'tis all the fame:

He lays me on, and makes me bear the blame.
Before the Bar, for beating him, you come;
This is a poor Man's Liberty in Rome.

You beg his Pardon; happy to retreat›
With fome remaining Teeth, to chew your Meat.
Nor is this all; for, when retir'd, you think
To fleep fecurely; when the Candles wink,
When ev'ry Door with Iron Chains is barr'd,
And roaring Taverns are no longer heard;
The Ruffian Robbers by no Juftice aw'd,
And unpaid Cut-throat Soldiers, are abroad.
Thofe venal Souls, who hardned in each Ill,
To fave Complaints and Profecution, kill.
Chas'd from their Woods and Bogs, the Padders come
To this vaft City, as their Native Home;
To live at cafe, and fafely fculk in Rome.
The Forge in Fetters only is employ'd;
Our Iron Mines exhaufted and destroy'd
In Shacles; for thefe Villains fcarce allow

Goads for the Teams, and Plough-fhares for the Plough,
Oh happy Ages of our Ancestors,

Beneath the Kings and Tribunitial Pow'rs!

30 Beneath the Kings, &c. Rome was originally rul'd by Kings; till for the Rape of

Lucretia, Tarquin the proud was expell'd. After which it was govern'd by two Confuls,

yearly