THE PLOWMAN, &c.
A Plowman follow'd, who had ftill at hand
Loads of manure t' enrich the grateful land;
An able, strong, laborious man was he,
Who liv'd with all in perfect charity:
He ferv'd God faithfully, nor hoarded pelf,
But lov'd his neighbour equal with himself.
Hard would he work, and freely would he give;
And oft, for God's fake, did the poor relieve:
In dealing juft, with loffes not dismay'd;
In every kind his tithes he duly paid.
In a fhort coat he rode without a fleeve:
There was befide a Miller and a Reve,
A Sumner, and a Pardon-monger too,
A Steward, and myself, were all the crew.
OR, TEMPLE-TREASURER.
A Steward of the Temple next must come,
A pattern for all caterers in town.
The price of every thing each market had
He knew, and nicely pick'd the good from bad.
Sometimes he went on trust, and sometimes paid,
Yet none could over-reach him in his trade.
Some wonder much, how an unletter'd man,
Of fuch low, fordid education, can
(Who is but one to more than three times ten)
O'er-reach fo many grave, wife, learned men.
A practis'd lawyer all things understands:
Th' affairs of half the nation pass their hands.
We praise unjustly, partially condemn ;
As they cheat others, others cozen them.
By various methods all profeffions live,
By their wife management he learn❜d to thrive.
In life's long courfe fuch diff'rent ways we run,
Some to undo, but most to be undone.
THIS Sumner was not overstock'd with grace,
He had a bloated, broad, cherubic face,
Of fiery hue, with hollow eyes and narrow,
Red as a cock, and lech'rous as a sparrow:
Black were his eye-brows, bristled was his beard,
And much the children his stern visage fear'd.
His nose with carbuncles was overspread;
His cheeks with white welks on a ground of red.
No inward med'cine he could e'er procure
Had pow'r fufficient to effect their cure.
Not new quickfilver, with cerufe too,
Brimstone, nor oil of tartar, aught could do.
Strong bloody wine he lov'd, and well-drefs'd fish,
And stunk of garlick like a Spanish dish.
When he was drunk, he'd talk a man to death,
And belch out Latin with unfav'ry breath.
Two or three common fragments he could say;
No wonder, for he heard it all the day.
But if you prefs'd him farther, you might fee
A sudden end of his philofophy.
A lewd young fellow, for a quart of wine,
Might for a twelvemonth have his concubine.
He taught his loose companions, in their sport,
T' evade the cenfure of th' archdeacon's court.
But if a rich libid'nous prize he found,
Him he inclos'd within his bawdy pound.
This, as no vulgar fecret, he would tell,
A large full purfe is the archdeacon's hell.
If rich men's fouls within their purses lie,
'Tis just their fins be punish'd there, say I.
To him all wenches in the bishop's fee
Paid public tribute, or a private fee.
Boldly he rode, a garland on his head,
Of all unmarry'd men and maids the dread.
THE PARDONER.
A Pardon-Monger laft brought up the rear,
With patriarchal face and holy leer.
His hair was of the hue of yellow wax,
Straight and unequal as a striek of flax;
Yet long and thin it grew from his large head,
And all his brawny shoulders overspread ;
Divided into parcels here and there :
No gaudy hood conceal'd his golden hair;
For that with care was in his wallet laid,
Where many curiofities he had.
Except a little cap, he rode all bare,
With glaring eyes, like a new-ftarted hare:
A holy figure ftitch'd upon his cap;
His wallet hung before him on his lap,
Stuff'd and cramm'd full of pardons, newly come,
For greedy zealots, piping hot from Rome.
Shrill was his voice as any mountain goat;
Aloud he faid his orifons by rote.
A beard he never had, nor e'er will have;
No barber took the pains that chin to shave.
He might have been a gelding or a mare;
But never fure, from Berwick e'en to Ware,
|