For, by the Practice of those Arts,
VVe gain a greater share of Hearts :
And those deserve in Reason most,
That greatest Pains and Study cost ;
Or great Perfections are, like Heav'n,
Too rich a Present to be given.
Nor are those Mafter-ftroaks of Beauty
To be perform'd without Hard Duty.
Which, when th' are nobly done and well,
The fimple Natural excel,
How fair and fweet's the Planted Rofe,
Beyond the Wild in Hedges grows?
For without Art, the Nobleft Seeds
Of Flowers degenerate into VVeeds :
How dull and rugged, e'er 'tis ground
And polifh'd, looks a Diamond?
Tho Paradife were e'er fo fair,
It was not kept fo without Care.
The whole VVorld, without Art and Drefs,
VVould be but one great Wilderness ;
And Mankind but a Savage Herd,
For all that Nature has confer❜d.
W'enjoy as large a Pow'r unfeen,
To govern him, as he does Men:
And in the Right of our Pope Joan;
Make Emp❜rors at our Feet fall down.
Or Joan de Pucel's braver Name,
Our Right to Arms and Conduct claim.
Who, though a Spinfter, yet was able,
To ferve France for a Grand Conftable.
We make, and execute all Laws -
Can judge the Judges, and the Caufe.
Prescribe all Rules of Wright or Wrong,
To th' Long Robe, and the Longer Tongue:
'Gainst which the World has no Defence,
But our more pow'rful Eloquence.
We manage things of greatest weight
In all the World's Affairs of State,
Are Minifters of War and Peace,
That fway all Nations how we please.
We rule all Churches, and their Flocks,
Heretical, and Orthodox.
And are the Heavenly Vehicles
O'th' Spirit, in all Conventicles:
By us is all Commerce and Trade
Improv'd, and Manag'd, and Decay'd.
For nothing can go off fo well,
Nor bears that Price, as what we fell.
We rule in ev'ry Public Meeting,
And make Men do what we judge fitting:
Are Magiftrates in all Great Towns,
Where Men do nothing, but wear Gowns.
We make the Man of War ftrike Sail,
And to our braver Conduct vail.
And, when h' has chas'd his Enemies,
Submit to us upon his Knees.
Is there an Officer of State,
Untimely rais'd; or Magiftrate,
That's Haughty and Imperious?
He's but a Journey-man to us.
That as he gives us cause to do't,
Can keep him in, or turn him out.
We are your Guardians, that increase,
Or waste your Fortunes how we please:
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your Matters, Ill or Well.
'Tis we that can difpofe alone, Whether your Hei, fhall be your own. To whofe Integrity you must,
In spight of all your Caution, truft;
And 'less you fly beyond the Seas,
Can fit you with what Heirs we please:
And force you t' own 'em, tho' begotten
By French Valets, or Irish Footmen.
Nor can the rigoroufeft Courfe
Prevail, unless to make us worse.
Who, ftill the harsher we are us❜d,
Are feather off from b'ing reduc'd.
And scorn t'abate for any Ills,
The leaft Punctilio of our Wills.
Force does but whet our Wits t'apply
Arts, born with us, for Remedy:
Which all your Politicks, as yet,
Have ne'er been able to defeat,
For when ye have try'd all forts of Ways
What Fools d' we make of you in Plays?
afford
While all the Favours we
Are but to girt you with the Sword,
To fight our Battels in our fleads,
And have your Brains beat out o' your Heads;
Encounter in defpight of Nature,
And fight at once with Fire and Water.
With Pyrats, Rocks, and Storms, and Seas,
Our Pride and Vanity t' appease,
Kill one another, and cut Throats,
For our good Graces and beft Thoughts;
To do your Exercise for Honour,
And have your Brains beat out the fooner 9
Or crack'd, as Learnedly, upon
Things that are never to be known:
And still appear the more Industrious, |
The more your Projects are Prepofterous,
To fquare the Circle of the Arts;
And run stark mad to fhew your Parts,
Expound the Oracle of Laws,
And turn them which way we fee Caufe,
Be our Solicitors, and Agents,
And ftand for us in all Engagements,
And these are all the Mighty Powers,
You vainly boaft, to cry down ours,
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