ON MAN. A SATYR.
To what Intent and Purpose was Man made,
Who is by Birth to Misery betray'd!
That in this slender Course of Life runs thrô
More Plagues than all the Land of
Egypt knew.
Doctors, Divines, great Dispensations, Punns,
Ill-lookt Citizens, and scurvy Dunns,
Conceited Laureats, dull, long Opera's,
And those that ne'er were Poets, yet write Plays;
Insipid Squires, fat Bishops, Deans and Chapters,
Enthusiasts, Prophecies, new Rants and Raptures;
Pox, Gouts, Catarrhs, old Sores, Cramps, Rheums, and Aches,
Half-witted Lords, double-chinn'd Bawds with Patches;
Illiterate Courtiers, Chancery-suits for Life,
A tracing Whore, and a most tedious Wife;
Raw Innes-of-Court-men, empty Fops, Buffoons,
Bullies Robust, raw Aldermen, and Clowns.
Gown-men that argue about, discuss, and prate,
And vent dull Notions of a future State;
Sure of another World, and do not know
Whether they shall be sav'd, or damn'd, or how.
'Twere better therefore that Men had ne'er been,
Than thus Unfortunate.
God save the Queen.
FINIS.