Since Nature hath given two hands, But when they are foul I might scorn them; Yet people thus much understands, TWO fine white gloves will adorn them. TWO feet for to bear up my body, No more had the knight of the sun; But people would think me a noddy If two shoes I would not put on. Here’s a health, etc. The figure of TWO is a thing That we cannot well live without, No more than without a good king, Though we be never so stout; And thus we may well understand, If ever our troubles should cease, Two needful things in a land Is a king and a justice of peace. Here’s a health, etc. And now for to draw to an end, I wish a good happy conclusion, The State would so much stand our friend, To end this unhappy confusion; The which might be done in a trice, In giving of Cæsar his due; If we were so honest and wise As to think of the figure of TWO. Here’s a health, etc. If any desire to know, This riddle I now will unfold, It is a man wrapped in woe, Whose father is wrapped in mould: So now to conclude my song, I mention him so much the rather Because he hath suffer’d some wrong, And bears up the name of his father. Here’s a health, etc. THE REFORMATION. Written in the year 1652, by Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous Works. TELL me not of Lords and laws, Rules or reformation; All that’s done not worth two straws To the welfare of the nation; If men in power do rant it still, And give no reason but their will For all their domination; Or if they do an act that’s just, ’Tis not because they would, but must, To gratify some party’s lust. All our expense of blood and purse Has yet produced no profit; Men are still as bad or worse, And will whate’er comes of it. We’ve shuffled out and shuffled in The person, but retain the sin, To make our game the surer; Yet spight of all our pains and skill, The knaves all in the pack are still, And ever were, and ever will, Though something now demurer. And it can never be so, Since knaves are still in fashion; Men of souls so base and low, Meer bigots of the nation; Whose designs are power and wealth, At which by rapine, power, and stealth, Audaciously they vent’re ye; They lay their consciences aside, And turn with every wind and tide, Puff’d on by ignorance and pride, And all to look like gentry.