_De Mirabilibus Pexi_, wanteth not due
Commendation. After many bustles in the world, he sequestred himself
wholly to _Malmsbury_, where he died better inform'd (as I have heard)
of the Deity, than in the former part of his life he seemeth to have
been.

* * * * *

Earl of _ROCHESTER_.

This Earl for Poetical Wit, was accounted the chief of his time; his
Numbers flowing with so smooth and accute a Strain, that had they been
all confined within the bounds of Modesty, we might well affirm they
were unparallel'd; yet was not his Muse altogether so loose, but that
with his Mirth he mixed Seriousness, and had a knack at once to tickle
the Fancy, and inform the Judgement. Take a taste of the fluency of his
Muse, in the Poem which he wrote _in Defence of Satyr_.

When _Shakespeare_, _Johnson_, _Fletcher_ rul'd the Stage,
They took so bold a freedom with the Age,
That there was scarce a Knave, or Fool in Town,
Of any note, but had his Picture shown;
And (without doubt) tho some it may offend.
Nothing helps more than Satyr, to amend
Ill Manners, or is trulier Vertues Friend.
Princes may Laws ordain, Priests gravely preach,
But Poets most successfully will teach.
For as the Passing-Bell frights from his meat
The greedy Sick-man, that too much wou'd eat;
So when a Vice ridiculous is made,
Our Neighbours Shame keeps us from growing bad.
But wholsom Remedies few Palats please,
Men rather love what flatters their Disease.

Pimps, Parasites, Buffoons, and all the Crew
That under Friendship's name weak man undo;
Find their false service kindlier understood,
Than such as tell bold Truths to do us good.
Look where you will, and you shall hardly find
A man without some sickness of the Mind.
In vain we wise wou'd seem, while every Lust
Whisks us about, as Whirlwinds do the Dust.

Here for some needless gain a Wretch is hurld
From Pole to Pole, and slav'd about the World;
While the reward of all his pains and cares,
Ends in that despicable thing, his Heir.

There a vain Fop mortgages all his Land
To buy that gaudy Play-thing, a Command;
To ride a Cock-horse, wear a Scarf at's ----
And play the Pudding in a _May-pole Farce_.

Here one, whom God to make a Fool thought fit,
In spight of Providence, will be a Wit:
But wanting strength t'uphold his ill made choice,
Sets up with Lewdness, Blasphemy, and Noise.

Ther