Thy house, thy prison, pure soule, spotless, faire,
Rest where no heat, no cold, no compounds are!
Rest in that country, and injoy that ease,
Which thy frayle flesh deny’de, and her disease!
ON THE
CHRIST-CHURCH PLAY.
The failure of success in the representation of this play has been detailed in the Life of the Bishop: indeed it seems to have subjected the Oxonians to much ridicule, which the elegant bishop King[74] joined with Corbet in retorting. One of the numerous banters on this occasion is recorded by Wood, and deserves to be preserved:
“At Christ-Church ‘Marriage,’ done before the king,
Lest that those mates should want an offering,
The king himself did offer—What? I pray.