Earl s/Rochiste^

, 3 I

L-Z-LLrZ-Z-Z-LrLrZ-LrZ-L-MZrL-Z-L-L-L-Lr L-L-8-

To the Author of a Play called Sodom*.

ELL me, abandon’d Miscreant, ptithee (ellWhat damned Power invok’d and sent from Hell,(If Hell were bad enough) did Thee inspireTo write, what Fiends, alham’d, wou’d blushing hear ?Haft thou of late cmbrac’d some Succubus,

And us’d the lewd Familiar for a Muse ?

Or didst thy Soul by Inch of Candle fell,

To gain the glorious Name of Pimp to Hell ?

If so, go, and its vow’d Allegiance swear,

Without 'Press-Money be its Volunteer.

May he who envies Thee, deserve thy Fate,

Deserve both Heaven's and Mankind’s Scorn and Hate*Disgrace to Libels ! Foil to very Shame !

Whom ’tis a Scandal to vouchsafe to name.

What foul Description’s foul enough for thee,

Sunk quite below the Reach of Infamy ?

Thou cover's! to be lewd, but want's! the Might,And art all over Devil, but in Wit.

Weak feeble Strainer at mere Ribaldry,

Whose Muse is impotent to that Degree,

It must, like Age, be whipt to Lechery.

Vile Sot, who, clapt with Poetry, art sick,

And void's! Corruption like a fhanker’d-

Like Ulcers thy impoflhum’d, addled BrainsDrops into Matter, which thy Paper stains;

Whence nauseous Rhimes by filthy Births proceed,

As Maggots in some T—d ingend’ring Breed.

Thy

* Oik Fistibourn, a ’wretched Scribbler.