Page:Poems upon Several Occasions.djvu/81

Rh This, and all other Martyrdom, for thee Seems glorious all, thrice-beauteous Honesty! Fortune and Life depend on Fate alone, My Honour and my Conscience are my own. Ye great Disturbers, who in endless Noise, In Blood and Horror, seek unnatural Joys, For what is all this Bustle, but to shun Those Thoughts, with which you dare not be alone? As Men in Misery, opprest with Care, Seek in the Rage of Wine to drown Despair. Let others fight, and eat their Bread in Blood, Regardless if the Cause be bad or good, Or cringe in Courts, depending on the Nods Of strutting Pygmies, who wou’d pass for Gods; For me, unpractis’d in the Courtiers School, Who loath a Knave, and tremble at a Fool, Who honour generous Wycherly opprest, Possest of little, worthy of the best, Rich in himself, in Virtue, that outshines All but the Fame of his immortal Lines, More than the wealthiest Lord, who helps to drain The famish’d Land, and rowls in impious Gain, What can I hope in Courts? or how succeed? Tygers and Wolves shall in the Ocean breed, The Whale and Dolphin fatten on the Mead, And every Element exchange its kind, When thriving Honesty in Courts we find. Happy