English Satires

There is a sect of ancient philosophers, who, I think, have left more volumes behind them, and those better written, than any other of the fraternities in philosophy. It was a m...

I will not dispute with you whether the Pope be or be not the Scarlet Lady of Babylon. I hope it is not so; because I am afraid it will induce His Majesty's Chancellor of the Ex...

Well; I may now receive and die. My sin Indeed is great, but yet I have been in A purgatory, such as fear'd hell is A recreation, and scant map of this. My mind neither with pri...

Of old, when Scarron his companions invited, Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united; If our landlord supplies us with beef and with fish, Let each guest bring him...

This opening satire constitutes the whole of the Eighth _Passus_ of _Piers Plowman's Vision_ and the First of Do-Wel. The "Dreamer" here sets off on a new pilgrimage in search o...

For to whom can I dedicate this poem, with so much justice, as to you? 'Tis the representation of your own hero: 'Tis the picture drawn at length, which you admire and prize so...

You know that the Lord Strutts have for many years been possessed of a very great landed estate, well-conditioned, wooded, watered, with coal, salt, tin, copper, iron, &c., all...

"Sire!" said he, in that mild tone of subdued superciliousness with which we should always address kings, and which, while it vindicates our dignity, satisfactorily proves that...

_Fontanges_. O monseigneur, I always did so--every time but once--you quite make me blush. Let us converse about something else, or I shall grow too serious, just as you made me...

The Abbot arose, and closed his book, And donned his sandal shoon, And wandered forth alone, to look Upon the summer moon: A starlight sky was o'er his head, A quiet breeze arou...

Soft were my numbers; who could take offence, While pure description held the place of sense? Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, A painted mistress, or a purling stream....

When the complaints of a brave and powerful people are observed to increase in proportion to the wrongs they have suffered, when, instead of sinking into submission, they are ro...

I do not mean to perplex you with a tedious argument upon a subject already so discussed that inspiration could hardly throw a new light upon it. There are, however, two points...

Nay, some there may be, perhaps, who will dispute his claim to the title of an epic poet, and will endeavour to degrade him even to the rank of a ballad-monger. But I, as his co...

Arbuthnot, the celebrated physician of Queen Anne, takes rank among the best of English satirists by virtue of his famous work _The History of John Bull_. The special mode or ty...

But a broom-stick, perhaps you will say, is an emblem of a tree standing on its head; and pray what is man, but a topsy-turvy creature, his animal faculties perpetually mounted...

We read Chaucer, as we read Horace, from love of his piquant Epicureanism, and the scintillating satire wherewith he enlivens those matchless pictures of his epoch which he has...

Shades of those belles whose reign began of yore, With George the Third's--and ended long before!-- Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive, Burst from your lead, and...

Let observation, with extensive view, Survey mankind from China to Peru; Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, And watch the busy scenes of crowded life; Then say, how ho...

In the compilation of this volume my aim has been to furnish a work that would be representative in character rather than exhaustive. The restrictions of space imposed by the li...

I have always longed to know what that story was (or what collection of histories), which a lady had in her mind to whom a servant of mine applied for a place, when I was breaki...

For faults and follies London's doom shall fix, And she must sink in flames in "sixty-six"; Fire-balls shall fly, but few shall see the train, As far as from Whitehall to Puddin...

Syne Sweirness, at the second bidding, Came like a sow out of a midding, Full sleepy was his grunyie:[133] Mony swear bumbard belly huddroun,[134] Mony slut, daw, and sleepy dud...

The following piece was originally claimed for Swift in the edition of his works published in 1749. But it was undoubtedly written by Gay, being only sent to Swift for perusal....