This day, the Poet, bloodily inclined, Has made me die, full sore against my mind! Some of you naughty men, I fear, will cry, Poor rogue! would I might teach thee how to die! Thanks for your love; but I sincerely say, I never mean to die, your wicked way. Well, since it is decreed all flesh must go, (And I am flesh,--at least for aught you know) I first declare, I die with pious mind, In perfect charity with all mankind. Next for my will:----I have, in my dispose, Some certain moveables would please you beaux; As, first, my youth; for, as I have been told, Some of you modish sparks are devilish old. My chastity I need not leave among ye; For, to suspect old fops, were much to wrong ye. You swear you're sinners; but for all your haste, Your misses shake their heads, and find you chaste. I give my courage to those bold commanders, Who stay with us, and dare not go for Flanders. I leave my truth (to make his plot more clear) To Mr Fuller, when he next shall swear[45]. I give my judgment, craving all your mercies, To those that leave good plays, for damned dull farces. My small devotion let the gallants share, That come to ogle us at evening prayer. I give my person----let me well consider,---- Faith e'en to him that is the fairest bidder; To some rich hunks, if any be so bold To say those dreadful words, _To have and hold_. But stay--to give, and be bequeathing still, When I'm so poor, is just like Wickham's will: Like that notorious cheat, vast sums I give, Only that you may keep me while I live[46]. Buy a good bargain, gallants, while you may; I'll cost you but your half-a-crown a day. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 41: Ægiatis was the first wife of Cleomenes. The reader will find an account of the modest custom of Sparta here alluded to, with a curious advantage taken of it by a stranger, in "Les Voyages D'Antenor."] [Footnote 42: It is surprising that Dryden has not here availed himself of the beautiful and affectionate apostrophe of Cleomenes, when he saw his brother Eucleidas overpowered in the battle of Sellasia: "Thou art lost, dear brother! lost for ever, thou brave example to our Spartan youth, and theme of our matrons' songs!"] [Footnote 43: This very appropriate simile is taken literally from Plutarch. See the prefixed Life of Cleomenes, p. 239.]