What Marks of wond'rous Clemency I've shown,
Some Rev'rend Worthies of the Gown can own.
Triumphant Plenty, with a chearful Grace,
Basks in their Eyes, and sparkles in their Face.
How sleek their Looks, how goodly is their Mien,
When big they strut behind a double Chin.
Each Faculty in Blandishments they lull,
Aspiring to be venerably dull.
No learn'd Debates molest their downy Trance,
Or discompose their pompous Ignorance:
But undisturb'd, they loiter Life away,
So wither Green and blossom in Decay.
Deep sunk in Down they by my gentle Care,
Avoid th'Inclemencies of Morning Air.
And leave to tatter'd [1]Crape the Drudgery of Pray'r.
Urim was civil, and not void of Sense,
Had Humour, and a courteous Confidence.
So spruce he moves, so gracefully he cocks;
The hallow'd Rose declares him Orthodox,
He pass'd his easie Hours, instead of Pray'r,
In Madrigals, and Phillising the Fair.
Constant at Feasts, and each Decorum knew;
And soon as the Dessert appear'd, withdrew.
Always obliging and without Offence,
And fancy'd for his gay Impertinence.
But see how ill mistaken Parts succeed;
He threw off my Dominion, and would read;
Engag'd in Controversie, wrangled well;
In Convocation-Language cou'd excel.
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8
The Dispensary.
In
