The language of the beast.

We'll drive the doctors out of doors,
And arts, what e'er they be;

We'll cry both arts and learning down,
And hey! then up go we!

If once that Anti-christian crew
Be crush'd and overthrown,

We'll teach the nobles how to crouch,

And keep the gentry down.

Good manners have an ill

And turn to pride we see:

report,

We'll therefore cry good manners down,

And hey! then up go we!

The name of lord shall be abhorr'd,

No reason why, in church, or state,

One man should rule another.

But when the change of government

Shall set our fingers free,

We'll make the wanton sisters stoop,

And hey! then up go we!

Our cobblers shall translate their souls

From caves obscure and shady:

We'll make Tom T— as good as my lord,

And Joan as good as my lady.

We'll crush and fling the marriage ring
Into the Roman see;

We'll ask no bands, but e'en clap hands,

And hey! then up go we!

From Shepherd's Oracles.

W

HAT, Cupid, are thy shafts already made? And seeking honey to set up thy trade, True emblem of thy sweets! thy bees do bring Honey in their mouths, but in their tails a sting.

Epigram No. 3, Book 1.

Non omne quod hic micat aurum est

F

ALSE world, thou ly'st; thou canst not lend

The least delight:

Thy favours cannot gain a friend,

They are so slight:

Thy morning pleasures make an end

To please at night:

Poor are the wants that thou supply'st:

And yet thou vaunt'st, and yet thou vy'st

With Heaven; fond earth, thou boast'st, false world,

thou ly'st.

Thy babbling tongue tells golden tales
Of endless treasure:

Thy bounty offers easy sales

Of lasting pleasure;

Thou ask'st the conscience what she ails,

And swear'st to ease her:

There's none can want where thou supply'st,

There's none can give where thou deny'st,
Alas! fond world, thou boast'st; false world, thou ly'st.

What well advised ear regards

What Earth can say?

Thy words are gold, but thy rewards

Are painted clay:

Thy cunning can but pack the cards,

Thou canst not play:

Thy game at weakest still thou vy'st;

If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st;

Thou art not what thou seem'st; false world, thou ly'st.

Thy tinsel bosom seems a mint

Of new-coin'd treasure: A paradise that has no stint,

No change, no measure;

A painted cask, but nothing in 't

Nor wealth nor pleasure:

Vain earth! that falsely thus comply'st
With man; vain man, that thou rely'st

On earth; vain man, thou doat'st; vain earth, thou ly'st.

What mean dull souls, in this high measure

To haberdash

In earth's base wares, whose greatest treasure
Is dross and trash?

The height of whose enchanting pleasure

Is but a fash?

Are these the goods that thou supply'st

Us mortals with? Are these the high'st?

Can these bring cordial peace? False world, thou ly'st.

From Emblems, Divine and Moral.

M

Y heart! but wherefore do I call thee so?
I have renounc'd my int'rest long ago:

When thou wert false and fleshly, I was thine; Mine wert thou never, till thou wert not mine.

Epigram No. 15, Book 2.

L

OOK not, my watch, being once repair'd, to stand
Expecting motion from thy Maker's hand.

He's wound thee up, and cleans'd thy clogs with
blood:

If now thy wheels stand still, thou art not good.

Epigram No. 8, Book 4.

B

Sic decipit orbis

ELIEVE her not, her glass diffuses
False portraitures: thou canst espy

No true reflection: she abuses

Her misinform'd beholder's eye;

Her crystal's falsely steel'd; it scatters
Deceitful beams; believe her not, she flatters.

This flaring mirror represents

No right proportion, view or feature:

Her very looks are compliments;

They make thee fairer, goodlier, greater:

The skilful gloss of her reflection

But paints the context of thy coarse complexion.