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His servants names he has forgotten quite ;
Knows not his friend who supp'd with him last night.
Not ev’n the children he begot and bred ;
Or his will knows 'em not: for, in their stead,
In form of law, a common hackney jade,
Sole heir, for secret services, is made :
So lewd and such a batter'd brothel whore,
That she defies all comers, at her door.
Well, yet suppose his senses are his own,
He lives to be chief mourner for his son ;
Before his face his wife and brother burns ;
He numbers all his kindred in their urns,
These are the fines he pays for living long ;
And dragging tedious age in his own wrong:
Griefs always green, a houshold still in tears,
Sad pomps : a threshold throng'd with daily biers;
And liveries of black for length of years.

Next to the raven's age, the Pylian 3 king
Was longest liv'd of any two legg'd-thing ;
Bleft, to defraud the grave so long, to mount
His 4 number'd years, and on his right-hand count;
Three hundred seasons, guzzling Must of wine :
But, hold a while, and hear himself repine
At fate's unequal laws ; and at the clue
Which, 5 merciless in length, the midmost fifter drew.
When his brave son upon the fun'ral pyre
He saw extended, and his beard on fire;
He turn'd, and weeping, ask'd his friends, what crime
Had curs’d his age to this unhappy time?

3 Neffor king of Pylus; who was 300 years old, according to Homer's account, at least as he is understood by his expositors.

4 The ancients counted by their fingers. Their Left hand served them until they came up to an hundred. After that they used the Right, to express all greater numbers.

5 The Fates were three fisters, who had all some peculiar business alligned them by the poets, in relation to the lives of men. The first held the distaff; the second spun the thread; and the third cut it.


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Thus mourn'd old Peleus for Achilles flain, And thus Ulysses' father did complain. How fortunate an end had Priam made, Among his ancestors a mighty fhade, While Troy yet stood : when Hector, with the race Of royal baftards, "might his fun'ral grace: Amidst the tears of Trojan dames inurn’d, And by his loyal daughters truly mourn'd! Had Heav'n so blest him, he had dy'd before The fatal fleet to Sparta Paris bore. But mark what age produc'd; he liv'd to see His town in Aames, his falling monarchy : In fine, the feeble fire, reduced by fate, To change his scepter for a sword, too late, His 6 last effort before Jove's altar tries : A soldier half, and half a sacrifice : Falls like an ox, that waits the coming blow Old and unprofitable to the plough. At 7 least, he dy'd a man ; his


surviv'd, To howl, and in a barking body liv'd.

I hasten to our own; nor will relate
Great 8 Mithridates, and rich 9 Creesus' fate ;

6 Whilft Troy was facking by the Greeks, old king Priam is faid to have buckled on his armour, to oppose them. Which he had no sooner done, but he was met by Pyrrhus, and Nain before the temple of Jupiter, in his own palace, as we have the ftory finely told in Virgil's second Æneid.

7 Hecuba, his queen, escaped the swords of the Grecians, and out lived him. It seems, she behaved herself fo fiercely and uneasily to her husband's murderers while she lived, that the poets thought fit to turn her into a Bitch, when the died.

8 Mithridates, after he had disputed the empire of the world for 40 years together with the Romans, was at last deprived of life and empire by Pompey the great.

9 Croefus, in the midst of his profperity, making his boast to Solon, how happy he was, received this answer from the wife man, That no one could pronounce himself happy, until he saw what his end should be. The truth of this Cræsus found, when he was put in chains by Cyrus, and condemned to die. 4


Whom Solon wisely counsellid to attend
The name of happy, till he knew his end.

That Marius was an exile, that he fled,
Was ta’en, in ruin'd Carthage begg'd his bread,
All these were owing to a life too long:
For whom had Rome beheld so happy, young !
High in his chariot, and with laurel crown'd,
When he had led the Cimbrian captives round
The Roman streets ; descending from his state,
In that blest hour he should have begg'd his fate;
Then, then, he might have dy'd of all admir’d,
And his triumphant soul with mouts expir’d.

Campania, I fortune's malice to prevent,
To Pompey an indulgent favour fent :
But public pray’rs impos’d on heaven, to give
Their much lov'd leader an unkind reprieve.
The city's fate and his conspir’d to save
The head, referv'd for an Egyptian slave.

Cethegus, 2 tho'a traytor to the state,
And tortur’d, 'scap'd this ignominious fate :
And Sergius, 3 who a bad cause bravely try'd,
All of a piece, and undiminish’d, dy'd.

To Venus, the fond mother makes a pray'r,
That all her sons and daughters may be fair :
True, for the boys a mumbling vow the sends ;
But for the girls, the vaulted temple rends :
They must be finish'd pieces : 'tis allow'd
Diana's beauty made Latona proud :

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1 Pompey, in the midst of his glory, fell into a dangerous fit of fickness, at Naples. A great many cities then made public fupplications for him. He recovered, was beaten at Pharfalia, Aled to Ptolomy king of Ægypt; and instead of receiving protection at his court, had his head struck off by his order, to please Cæsar.

2 Cethegus was one that conspired with Cataline, and was put to death by the senate.

3 Cataline died fighting.

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And pleas'd, to see the wond'ring people pray
To the new-rising sister of the day.

Lucretia's fate would bar that vow:
And fair 4 Virginia would her fate bestow
On Rutila ; and change her faultless make
For the foul rumple of her camel-back.

But, for his mother's boy, the beau, what frights
His parents have by day, what anxious nights !
Form join'd with virtue is a sight too rare :
Chafte is no epithet to suit with fair,
Suppose the same traditionary strain
Of rigid manners, in the house remain ;
Inveterate truth an old plain Sabine's heart;
Suppose that Nature, too, has done her part;
Infus'd into his soul a fober grace,
And blusht a modest blood into his face,
(For Nature is a better guardian far,
Than faucy pedants, or dull tutors are :)
Yet still the youth must ne'er arrive at man ;
(So much almighty bribes, and presents, can ;)
Ev'n with a parent, where persuasions fail,
Money is impudent, and will prevail.

We never read of such a tyrant king
Who gelt a boy deform’d, to hear him sing.
Nor Nero, in his more luxurious rage,
E’er made a mistress of an ugly page :
Sporus, his spouse, nor crooked was, nor lame,
With mountain back, and belly, from the game
Cross-barr'd: but both his sexes well became.
Go, boast your Springal, by his beauty curft
To ills ; nor think I have declar'd the worst;
His form procures him journey-work; a strife
Betwixt town-madams, and the merchant's wife:

4 Virginia was killed by her own father, to prevent her being exposed to the lust of Appius Claudius, who had ill designs upon her. The story at large is in Livy's third book ; and it is a remarkable one, as it gave occasion to the putting down the power of the Decemviri; of whom Appius was one.

Guess, when he undertakes this public war,
What furious beasts offended cuckolds are.

Adult'rers are with dangers round beset;
Born under Mars, they cannot ’scape the net;
And from revengeful husbands oft have try'd
Worse handling, than severest laws provide :
One stabs; one slashes ; one, with cruel art,
Makes Colon suffer for the peccant part.

But your Endymion, your smooth, smock’d-fac'd boy, Unrivall’d, shall a beauteous dame enjoy: Not so: one more salacious, rich, and old, Outbids, and buys her pleasure for her gold : Now he must moil, and drudge for one he loaths: She keeps him high, in equipage and clothes : She pawns her jewels, and her rich attire, And thinks the workman worthy of his hire : In all things elfe immoral, stingy, mean ; But, in her lufts, a conscionable quean.

He may be handsome, yet be chafte, you fay; Good observator, not so fast away : Did it not cost the 5 modest youth his life, Who shunn'd th’ embraces of his father's wife ? And was not t’ other 6 strippling forced to fly, Who coldly did his patron's queen deny; And pleaded laws of hospitality ? The ladies charg'd'em home, and turn’d the tale ; With shame they redden'd, and with spight grew pale. 'Tis dang’rous to deny the longing dame; She loses pity, who has lost her shame.


5 Hippolitus, the son of Theseus, was loved by his mother-inlaw Phædra. But he not complying with her, the procured his death.

6 Bellerophon, the son of king Glaucus, residing some time at the court of Patus king of the Argives, the queen, Sthenobæa, fell in love with him. But he refusing her, she turned the accusation upon him; and he narrowly escaped Pætus's vengeance.

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