University of Virginia Library

He gave himself fantastic airs,
As if he'd been above the spheres,
Of Nimrod, Pharaoh, Cham, or Cæsar,
The great Mogul, or Neb'hadnezar;
And true it is, in many a thing,
He much resembled Babel's king.
Strutting like a romantick hero,
As stout as Xerxes, mild as Nero,
He thought the neighbourhood ador'd him,
Whereas they mock'd him, and abhor'd him;
Fancy'd his will to be a law,
To keep his neighbours all in awe,
And force them into any measure
That suited his capricious pleasure;
Whether to box, when he thought fit,
Or wrestle, without fear or wit;
Or when he pleas'd to say, pax vobis,
Leave off your strife, parete nobis,
He thought his neighbours would obey him,
And ne'er a mortal would gainsay him;
Yet after all this noise and clutter,
His friends lay oft-times in the gutter.
His talent lay not in plain dealing,
Nor was he shap'd for reconciling,
And his pretended son and wife,
Know if he's good at ending strife.
Religion for a mask he used,
By which the vulgar are amused:
For still, when rogues would cloak their knav'ry,
And draw men into fear and slav'ry,
Religion then must be pretended,
Or something in it to be mended;
Yet no religion he practised,
And never will with this be pleased,
Quid tibi fieri non vis,
Tu alteri ne feceris.