Was Pard'ner furnish'd with fuch precious Geere;

For in his Male he had a Pillowbere,

Which piously was thought our Lady's Veil;
He kept, befide, a Gobbet of the Sail

Which Peter had (and now this Pard'ner hath)'
When Christ rebuk'd him for his little Faith.
A Cross he show'd of Tin, fet full of Stones;
And in a Glass, a number of Pigs Bones.
With thefe, more Pardons daily he'd' difpence,
In one poor Village would collect more Pence,
(As by Record too plainly does appear)
Than a poor Parfon lab'ring all the Year.
Thus with feign'd Flatteries and Holy Tools,
He made the Parfon and the People Fools.*

Howe'er, to tell the Truth juft as it tood; He feem'd in Church, Ecclefiaftick good.

A

A Leffon he could read, or tell a Story,
And roar the Pfalter with no little Glory;
But beft of all an Offertory sung;

So loud, fo chearful, that the Chappel rung;

This gain'd him Pence from the deluded Crowd; Therefore he fung fo chearful, and fo loud.

慈慈

EPI

EPITAPH on the Monument of the Marquis of Winchester.

By Mr. DRYDEN.

[good;

E who in impious Times undaunted flood, And midst Rebellion durft be just and Whose Arms afferted, and whose Sufferings more Confirm'd the Caufe for which he fought before, Rests here, rewarded by an Heavenly Prince, For what his Earthly could not recompence. Pray (Reader) that fuch Times no more appear, Or, if they happen, learn true Honour here.

Ark of thy Age's Faith and Loyalty, Which (to preferve them) Heav'n confin❜d in thee, Few Subjects could a King like thine deserve, And fewer fuch a King fo well cou'd serve. Bleft King, bleft Subject, whofe exalted State By Sufferings rofe, and gave the Law to Fate.

Such Souls are rare; but mighty Patterns given To Earth, were meant for Ornaments to Heaven.

***

Epitaph on Mrs. Margaret Pafton of Barningham in Norfolk.

By the fame Hand.

O fair, fo young, fo innocent, fo fweet;

Sof

So ripe a Judgment, and fo rare a Wit,
Require at least an Age, in One to meet.
In her they met; but long they cou'd not stay,
'Twas Gold too fine to fix without Allay':
Heav'ns Image was in her fo well expreft,
Her very Sight upbraided all the rest.

Too juftly ravish'd from an Age like this;
Now he is gone, the World is of a Pięce.

Paying a Vifit to a Mistress on :
Sunday.

URE, when I rob my Maker of his Due,

SURE,

And with Devotion pay the reft to you ;
The World will fay that I adore Thee, Fair,
Abruptly leaving my unfinish'd Prayer.
What fhall I do? When with an eager Zeal
To Heav'n I bow, and on low Earth I kneel;
The dear Remembrance of my charming She
Pleasingly interrupts my Piety.

As if the Gods thought her the surest way
To gain my With, and taught me where to Pray.

Up ftraight I rofe, I'll come, faid I, and bow To Thee, O Goddefs, eafie to my Vow.

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