eference of a college one, which, we
find in the Specialities of his life, he was greatly devoted to in his
youth. The lines, which are far from inelegant, seem indeed to come
from his heart, and make him appear as an exception to that too
general human discontent, which was the subject of this satire.

'Mongst all these stirs of discontented strife,
Oh let me lead an academick life;
To know much, and to think we nothing know;
Nothing to have, yet think we have enowe;
In skill to want, and wanting seek for more;
In weele nor want, nor wish for greater store.
Envy, ye monarchs, with your proad excesse,
At our low sayle, and our high happinesse.

The last satire of this book is a severe one on the clergy of the
church of Rome. He terms it POMH-PYMH, by which we suppose he intended
to brand Roma, as the Sink of Superstition. He observes, if Juvenal,
whom he calls Aquine's carping spright, were now alive, among other
surprising alterations at Rome,

--that he most would gaze and wonder at,
Is th' horned mitre, and the bloody hat,
The crooked staffe, their coule's strange form and store,
Save that he saw the fame in hell before.

The first satire of the fifth book is levelled at Racking Landlords.
The following lines are a strong example of the taste of those times
for the Punn and Paronomasia.

While freezing Matho, that for one lean fee
Won't term each term the term of Hillary,
May now, instead of those his simple fees,
Get the fee-simples of faire manneries.

The second satire lashes the incongruity of stately buildings and want
of hospitality, and naturally reminds us of a pleasant epigram
of Martial's on the same occasion, where after describing the
magnificence of a villa, he concludes however, there is no room either
to sup or lodge in it. It ends with a transition on the contumely with
which the parasites are treated at the tables of the great; being a
pretty close imitation of Juvenal on the same subject. This satire has
also a few skabbarded initials.

In his third, titled, [Greek: KOINA PHIAON], where he reprehends
Plato's notion of a political community of all things, are the
following lines:

Plato is dead, and dead is his device,
Which some thought witty, none thought ever wise:
Yet certes Macha is a Platonist
To all, they say, save whoso do not list;
Because her husband, a far traffick' man,
Is a profess'd Peripatician.

His last book and satire, fo