Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/204

What living for an Englishman is there,
Where such as these get head, and domineer,
Whose use and custom 'tis, never to share
A friend, but love to reign without dispute,
Without a rival, full and absolute?
Soon as the insect gets his honour's ear,
And flyblows some of's pois'nous malice there,
Straight I'm turned off, kicked out of doors, discarded,
And all my former service disregarded.
’But leaving these messieurs, for fear that I
Be thought of the silk-weaver's mutiny,
From the loathed subject let us hasten on,
To mention other grievances in town:
And further, what respect at all is had
Of poor men here? and how's their service paid,
Though they be ne'er so diligent to wait,
To sneak, and dance attendance on the great?
No mark of favour is to be obtained
By one that sues, and brings an empty hand;
And all his merit is but made a sport,
Unless he glut some cormorant at court.
'Tis now a common thing, and usual here,
To see the son of some rich usurer
Take place of nobles, keep his first-rate whore,
And, for a vaulting bout or two, give more
Than a guard-captain's pay; meanwhile the breed
Of peers, reduced to poverty and need,
Are fain to trudge to the Bankside, and there
Take up with porters' leavings, suburb ware,
There spend that blood, which their great ancestor
So nobly shed at Cressy heretofore,
At brothel-fights, in some foul common-sewer.
’Produce an evidence, though just he be,
As righteous Job, or Abraham, or he
Whom Heaven, when whole nature shipwrecked was
Thought worth the saving, of all human race;