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That woman is a worm we find,

E'er fince our grandame's evil;

She first convers'd with her own kind,

That antient worm the devil.

The learn'd themselves we book-worms name;
The blockhead is a flow worm :
The Nymph whose tail is all on flame-

Is aptly term'd a glow-worm:

The fops are painted butterflies,
That flutter for a day;

First from a worm they take their rife,

And in a worm decay.

The flatterer an earwig grows;

Thus worms fuit all conditions;

Mifers are muck-worms, filk-worms beaus,
And death watches physicians,
That statesmen have the worm, is feen

By all their winding play;
Their confcience is a worm within,

That gnaws them night and day.
Ah Moore thy skill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rise,

If thou could't make the courtier void
J The worm that never dies!

O learned friend of Abchurch-lane
Who fets our entrails free!
Vain is thy art, thy powder vain,.
Since worms fhall eat ev'n thee.
Our fate thou only can'st adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's wits to worms shall turn,'
Who maggots were before.

VERSES

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VERSES occafioned by an &c. at the end of Mr. D'Urfy's name, in the title to one of bis plays *.

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OVE call'd him before t'other day,

The vowels, U, O, I, E, A,
All dipthongs, and all confonants,
Either of England, or of France;
And all that were, or wifh'd to be
Rank'd in the name of Tom D'Urfy.
Fierce in this cause the letters spoke all;
Liquids grew rough, and mutes turn'd vocal:
Those four proud fyllables alone

Were filent, which by fate's decree
Chim'd in fo fmoothly one by one,

To the sweet name of Tom D'Urfy.
N, by whom names fubfift, declar'd,
To have no place in this, was hard:
And 2 maintain'd 'twas but his due
Still to keep company with U;

So hop'd to stand no less than he
In the great name of Tom D'Urfy.

E fhew'd, a comma ne'er could claim

A place in any British name;

Yet making here a perfect botch,

Thrufts your poor vowel from his notch:

Hiatus mi valde deflendus !

From which good Jupiter defend us!
Sooner I'd quit my part in thee,
Than be no part in Tom D'Urfy.
P protefted, puff'd, and fwore,
He'd not be ferv'd fo like a beast;

He

This accident happened by Mr. D'Urfy's having made a

flourish there, which the printer mistook for an &c.

He was a piece of emperor,
And made up half a pope at least.
C vow'd he'd frankly have releas'd
His double share in Cæfar Caius,
For only one in Tom D'Urfeius.
I, confonant and vowel too,
To Jupiter did humbly sue,

That, of his grace, he would proclaim*
Durfeius his true Latin name;

For tho', without them both, 'twas clear,
Himself could ne'er be Jupiter;

Yet they'd refign that poft fo high,

To be the genitive, Durfei.

B and L fwore bl

X and Z cry'd p

and w―s;

-x and z

-ds,

G fwore by G-d, it ne'er fhould be,

And I would not lofe, not he,
An English letter's property

In the great name of Tom D'Urfy,

In short the reft were all in fray,
From Chriftcross to et cætera.

They, tho' but ftanders by, too mutter'd;
Dipthongs and tripthongs fwore, and flutter'd,

That none had fuch a right to be

Part of the name of ftuttering T-
T-Tom-a-as De-Ur-fy.

Then Jove thus fpake: with care and pain
We form'd this name, renown'd in rhyme;
Not thine, * immortal Neuf-germain !

Coft ftudious cabalifts more time.

Yet

* A poet who used to make verfes ending with the laft fyltables of the names of thofe perfons he praised: which Voiture turned against him in a poem of the fame kind.

Yet now, as then, you all declare,
Far hence to Egypt you'll repair,
And turn ftrange hieroglyphicks there,
Rather than letters longer be,

Unless i' th' name of Tom D'Urfy.'

Were you all pleas'd, yet what, I pray,
To foreign letters could I say?
What if the Hebrew next should aim
To turn quite backwards D'Urfy's name?
Should the Greek quarrel too, by Styx, I
Could ne'er bring in Pfi and Xi
Omicron and Omega from us,

Would each hope to be O in Thomas ;
And all the ambitious vowels vie,
No lefs than Pythagorick Y,

To have a place in Tom D'Urfy.

Then, well-belov'd and trusty letters! Cons'nants, and vowels, (much their betters,) WE, willing to repair this breach,

And, all that in us lies, please each;

Et cætra to our aid must call;
Et cat'ra reprefents ye all:
Et cat'ra therefore, we decree,
Henceforth for ever join'd shall be
To the great name of Tom D'Urfy. ⠀

}

PROLOGUE defigned for Mr. Durfy's laft play.

G

Rown old in rhyme, 'twere barbarous to discard
Your perfevering, unexhaufted bard:

F f

Damnation

1

Damnation follows death in other men,

But your damn'd poet lives, and writes again.
Th' advent'rous lover is fuccefsful ftill,

Who strives to please the fair against her will:
Be kind, and make him in his wishes easy,
Who in your own despite has ftrove to please ye.
He fcorn'd to borrow from the wits of yore;
But ever writ, as none e'er writ before.

You modern wits, should each man bring his claim
Have defp'rate debentures on your fame ;
And little would be left you, I'm afraid,
If all your debts to Greece and Rome were paid.
From his deep fund our author largely draws;
Nor finks his credit lower than it was.

Tho' plays for honour in old time he made,
"Tis now for better reasons- to be paid.

Believe him, he has known the world too long,
And feen the death of much immortal fong.
He says, poor poets loft, while players won,
As pimps grow rich, while gallants are undone.
Tho' Tom the poet writ with ease and pleasure,
The comick Tom abounds in other treasure.
Fame is at beft an unperforming cheat;
But 'tis fubftantial happiness to eat—
Let ease, his laft requeft, be of your giving,
Nor force him to be damn'd to get his living.

SANDYS

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