Yet standers by may plainly see
They get no nourishment from me.
My head with giddiness goes round;
And yet I firmly stand my ground:
All over naked I am seen,
And painted like an Indian queen.
No couple-beggar in the land
E'er join'd such numbers hand in hand;
I join'd them fairly with a ring;
Nor can our parson blame the thing:
And, though no marriage words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke;
Yet hypocrite fanaticks cry,
I'm but an idol rais'd on high:
And once a weaver in our town,
A damn'd Cromwellian, knock'd me down.
I lay a prisoner twenty years,
And then the jovial cavaliers
To their old post restor'd all three,
I mean the church, the king, and me.
X.
I WITH borrow'd silver shine,
What you see is none of mine.
First I show you but a quarter,
Like the bow that guards the Tartar;
Then the half, and then the whole,
Ever dancing round the pole.
And, what will raise your admiration,
I am not one of God's creation,
But sprung (and I this truth maintain)
