Typhon or, The Gyants War with The Gods. A Mock-poem. In Five Canto's [by John Phillips] |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
THE PARSONS TALE. |
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 | Typhon |  |
THE PARSONS TALE.
A crafty man in Country-town,
Had wife was of a comely brown,
And lov'd by neighbour-Parson, who
At vacant hours came there to woo.
The husband knowing Parson Fulpit
(Ycleped so) in fleshly Pulpit
Was wont to preach, casts how to catch
Them both; and thus contrives his watch
Sweetheart, quoth he, my business says
I must go travel seven days.
Nay, quoth the wife, if so you do,
Why may not I go travel too?
Then, as was wont, came in the Parson;
Spies Chair and Cushion, sets his arse-on.
Quoth wife to Priest, My husband, Sir,
Is taking journey. I infer,
Then cry'd the Parson, he hath cause.
The husband after making pause,
(Which shew'd he was in minde perplext,
That Priest should chuse his wife for text)
He doth befit himself with speed;
Gives kiss to wife, and mounts his steed.
Had wife was of a comely brown,
And lov'd by neighbour-Parson, who
At vacant hours came there to woo.
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(Ycleped so) in fleshly Pulpit
Was wont to preach, casts how to catch
Them both; and thus contrives his watch
Sweetheart, quoth he, my business says
I must go travel seven days.
Nay, quoth the wife, if so you do,
Why may not I go travel too?
Then, as was wont, came in the Parson;
Spies Chair and Cushion, sets his arse-on.
Quoth wife to Priest, My husband, Sir,
Is taking journey. I infer,
Then cry'd the Parson, he hath cause.
The husband after making pause,
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That Priest should chuse his wife for text)
He doth befit himself with speed;
Gives kiss to wife, and mounts his steed.
The Parson then, and wife, by joynt
Consent, begin to handle point;
Thought of a Chamber, went into't,
As best befitting close dispute:
What were the arguments befel,
I make no doubt but you can tell.
But one thing should not be forgotten,
The Parsons principles were rotten;
A Sceptick, or as Martial saith,
A wanderer with waving faith;
Fickle, when he swore he loved
Beyond or Aretine or Ovid.
But th' honest man, whose mind did burn,
As he intended, made return;
Sees wife and Parson both withdrawn;
Peeps, and spies Priest in sleeves of Lawn,
As he suppos'd, but 'twas his Shirt;
Nor had he Girdle to begirt:
But as in Country-town no watch
Is us'd, so door had onely latch,
Which having lifted up, he enters,
And first upon his wife adventers:
So having chid, and scorn'd, & mockt her,
Leaves her, and thus accosteth Doctor:
Consent, begin to handle point;
Thought of a Chamber, went into't,
As best befitting close dispute:
What were the arguments befel,
I make no doubt but you can tell.
But one thing should not be forgotten,
The Parsons principles were rotten;
A Sceptick, or as Martial saith,
A wanderer with waving faith;
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Beyond or Aretine or Ovid.
But th' honest man, whose mind did burn,
As he intended, made return;
Sees wife and Parson both withdrawn;
Peeps, and spies Priest in sleeves of Lawn,
As he suppos'd, but 'twas his Shirt;
Nor had he Girdle to begirt:
But as in Country-town no watch
Is us'd, so door had onely latch,
Which having lifted up, he enters,
And first upon his wife adventers:
So having chid, and scorn'd, & mockt her,
Leaves her, and thus accosteth Doctor:
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Come now, Sir Leacher, you that stand
With Shirt on back, and Cloaths in hand,
Deliver habit, or at once
This Penknife sharp shall off with stones.
The Parson, who was sore affright,
As doubting whether man or spright,
Admir'd to see the husband come,
Who just before was gone from home.
But whether 'twas through fear or cold,
It matters not, his hands unfold,
And down apparel falls. The man
That stood with knife in hand, began
To lay them by: which having done,
Cries, Parson, sure as mothers son,
Thus naked without Cloathes or Crutch,
You shall immediately to Church,
And there do Penance thus in white.
Quoth Parson (vowing By this light)
I'd rather die: good neighbour chuse
Some other Penance; I'll refuse
Nothing that you'll impose, provided
You will not see your friend derided.
On that the husband makes behest
To wife, to reach him key of Chest:
With it doth straightway Chest unlock,
And makes the Parson put in Cock;
And having us'd an art to fasten
Priest Cock-sure, he away doth hasten
To Penknife which he hard by laid,
That made the Parson sore afraid:
He puts the knife in Parsons hand,
And caus'd his wife by his command
To fire the Chest: for you must know,
On purpose it was fill'd with tow.
The Chest of fire, both man and wife
Leave Parson there with Cock and Knife;
Run out of doors, and make a noise
By crying Fire. That dreadful voice
Rais'd all the Parish, and as Torch,
Might guide them unto what did scorch
The Parson: in they ran, but cry'd,
Neighbours beware, we shall be fry'd;
Or else if fire make house to fall,
'Twill surely be the death of all.
The Parson, who had heard them coming,
'Twixt shame & synging left his humming;
Takes knife, and with a valiant slash
Brings body off, but leaves poor Swash
Amidst the angry flames to fry:
Judge, did not Swash a Martyr die?
He hanged was, and quarter'd too;
And he was burnt: but I should do
Much wrong to Parson and to Cocks,
Should I maintain a Paradox.
With Shirt on back, and Cloaths in hand,
Deliver habit, or at once
This Penknife sharp shall off with stones.
The Parson, who was sore affright,
As doubting whether man or spright,
Admir'd to see the husband come,
Who just before was gone from home.
But whether 'twas through fear or cold,
It matters not, his hands unfold,
And down apparel falls. The man
That stood with knife in hand, began
To lay them by: which having done,
Cries, Parson, sure as mothers son,
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You shall immediately to Church,
And there do Penance thus in white.
Quoth Parson (vowing By this light)
I'd rather die: good neighbour chuse
Some other Penance; I'll refuse
Nothing that you'll impose, provided
You will not see your friend derided.
On that the husband makes behest
To wife, to reach him key of Chest:
With it doth straightway Chest unlock,
And makes the Parson put in Cock;
And having us'd an art to fasten
Priest Cock-sure, he away doth hasten
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That made the Parson sore afraid:
He puts the knife in Parsons hand,
And caus'd his wife by his command
To fire the Chest: for you must know,
On purpose it was fill'd with tow.
The Chest of fire, both man and wife
Leave Parson there with Cock and Knife;
Run out of doors, and make a noise
By crying Fire. That dreadful voice
Rais'd all the Parish, and as Torch,
Might guide them unto what did scorch
The Parson: in they ran, but cry'd,
Neighbours beware, we shall be fry'd;
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'Twill surely be the death of all.
The Parson, who had heard them coming,
'Twixt shame & synging left his humming;
Takes knife, and with a valiant slash
Brings body off, but leaves poor Swash
Amidst the angry flames to fry:
Judge, did not Swash a Martyr die?
He hanged was, and quarter'd too;
And he was burnt: but I should do
Much wrong to Parson and to Cocks,
Should I maintain a Paradox.
Just now a messenger brings word,
Typhon did mean with fire and sword,
With clubs, with staves, & other weapon,
Visit the Gods, and warfare keep-on;
Sends thus to Jove, In spight of's nose,
In heav'n he'd suddenly repose:
To that same end, it was his will,
Mountain should bear the weight of hill,
Great Oss on Pelion should stand,
That heaven might be toucht with hand.
Typhon did mean with fire and sword,
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Visit the Gods, and warfare keep-on;
Sends thus to Jove, In spight of's nose,
In heav'n he'd suddenly repose:
To that same end, it was his will,
Mountain should bear the weight of hill,
Great Oss on Pelion should stand,
That heaven might be toucht with hand.
These News it seems were very true;
For Typhon and his Gyant-crew
Had ransackt wood throughout and round
(But th'devil a God was to be found)
And were come back to mighty hill,
To Crane it up (by strength and skill)
On th'other; and about threescore
Of hills, but less then those before,
Were got already on a heap.
Then Jove, who fetcht a sigh most deep,
Reply'd, We then will take our lot,
But beat the Iron while it's hot:
Though they are Gyants great and tall,
Their clambring may produce a fall;
And the event may make it plain,
They're hastie onely to be slain:
My son, we'll stop their course before
Upon those hills they set up more:
For if we all (ere they surmise)
Fall on, we cannot miss the Prize.
Hercules fingers itch to be
In action. Th' other Gods, who see
His courage, 'gin to banish fear;
Take heart a-grace, and prick up ear.
Quoth Hercules, My Club's a tongue,
That can both speak, and right a wrong:
Moreover, quoth the lofty Yonker,
I scorn to go to fight, but conquer.
For Typhon and his Gyant-crew
Had ransackt wood throughout and round
(But th'devil a God was to be found)
And were come back to mighty hill,
To Crane it up (by strength and skill)
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Of hills, but less then those before,
Were got already on a heap.
Then Jove, who fetcht a sigh most deep,
Reply'd, We then will take our lot,
But beat the Iron while it's hot:
Though they are Gyants great and tall,
Their clambring may produce a fall;
And the event may make it plain,
They're hastie onely to be slain:
My son, we'll stop their course before
Upon those hills they set up more:
For if we all (ere they surmise)
Fall on, we cannot miss the Prize.
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In action. Th' other Gods, who see
His courage, 'gin to banish fear;
Take heart a-grace, and prick up ear.
Quoth Hercules, My Club's a tongue,
That can both speak, and right a wrong:
Moreover, quoth the lofty Yonker,
I scorn to go to fight, but conquer.
Then up they get on legs again,
Boldly to follow their Chieftain,
Who leads them on through thick & thin
Sometimes up almost to the chin.
I will not be so tedious as
To give relation how it was
With all the Gods, or any one;
Or whether they had horse, or none,
Or rode on Elephants or Camels;
Whether they crost brooks, ponds or channels:
We will suppose them now to be
Arriv'd beneath a spreading tree,
Resting themselves for half an hour,
Not far from Gyant Typhon's Tow'r:
That time expir'd, Jove rouzes up,
Calls for some Wine, and drinks a Cup;
Chuses a lustie Bolt of Thunder.
(Did you but see it, you would wonder)
Out of a Cart-load they had brought
From Memphis, Bolts but newly wrought
By Vulcan's own hand, therefore good.
Hercules, who by's Daddy stood,
Takes up his weapon, and by night
They march, till they approached right
Against the place where Typhon lay
Asleep. Without the least delay,
Jupiter primes his Bolt so great;
From him the standers by retreat
For fear of harm, and Jove himself
Was wary to avoid that shelf
By which so many had been split:
For (in his anger) he had wit.
No God, though young, or old in years,
Should Thunder flie about his ears,
But would be scar'd; and days of yore,
Such thunder never saw before.
Sometimes Jove holds it on the right;
Then suddenly, as full of fright,
He changes it unto the left:
Then spying that the ground was cleft
On which he stood, he fastens it
Within the same: all being fit,
He puts his March upon a Spire,
His arm stretcht out, presenting fire;
Looks t'other way, & cries, Does't touch?
Then puffs and sweats, his fears were such.
But Hercules, who stood at distance
With Club and Sword in hand, assistance
Gives to his Daddy, in these words:
Let's leave these guns, & use our swords.
Go to, you fool, quoth Jove, and tell
Me, when I am aside, or well.
With that, he stretches out once more
His arm and Lintstock as before:
How am I now, quoth Jove? Too low,
Quoth Hercules; too high: so, so.
Pish, quoth the touchhole; bounce, the gun:
On th' earth both father and the son
Lie sprawling: Jove holds up his head
At last: How dost, my boy? art dead?
Quoth he; may we rise safely yet?
Amphytrio answers, I have fit
Of Shiv'ring on me, as an Ague.
Then fight, quoth Jove, & 'twill not plague you.
Boldly to follow their Chieftain,
Who leads them on through thick & thin
Sometimes up almost to the chin.
I will not be so tedious as
To give relation how it was
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Or whether they had horse, or none,
Or rode on Elephants or Camels;
Whether they crost brooks, ponds or channels:
We will suppose them now to be
Arriv'd beneath a spreading tree,
Resting themselves for half an hour,
Not far from Gyant Typhon's Tow'r:
That time expir'd, Jove rouzes up,
Calls for some Wine, and drinks a Cup;
Chuses a lustie Bolt of Thunder.
(Did you but see it, you would wonder)
Out of a Cart-load they had brought
From Memphis, Bolts but newly wrought
134
Hercules, who by's Daddy stood,
Takes up his weapon, and by night
They march, till they approached right
Against the place where Typhon lay
Asleep. Without the least delay,
Jupiter primes his Bolt so great;
From him the standers by retreat
For fear of harm, and Jove himself
Was wary to avoid that shelf
By which so many had been split:
For (in his anger) he had wit.
No God, though young, or old in years,
Should Thunder flie about his ears,
135
Such thunder never saw before.
Sometimes Jove holds it on the right;
Then suddenly, as full of fright,
He changes it unto the left:
Then spying that the ground was cleft
On which he stood, he fastens it
Within the same: all being fit,
He puts his March upon a Spire,
His arm stretcht out, presenting fire;
Looks t'other way, & cries, Does't touch?
Then puffs and sweats, his fears were such.
But Hercules, who stood at distance
With Club and Sword in hand, assistance
136
Let's leave these guns, & use our swords.
Go to, you fool, quoth Jove, and tell
Me, when I am aside, or well.
With that, he stretches out once more
His arm and Lintstock as before:
How am I now, quoth Jove? Too low,
Quoth Hercules; too high: so, so.
Pish, quoth the touchhole; bounce, the gun:
On th' earth both father and the son
Lie sprawling: Jove holds up his head
At last: How dost, my boy? art dead?
Quoth he; may we rise safely yet?
Amphytrio answers, I have fit
137
Then fight, quoth Jove, & 'twill not plague you.
The noise soon reached Typhon's lugs,
Who lay on bed with thousand Rugs,
All large, and warm as so much Buff,
Yet all was scarce (or but) enough;
So big was he: from bed he starts;
Ods bobs, quoth he, who is't that farts
So loud, and thus disturbs my rest?
I'll pull his heart from out his brest,
Whoe'er it be. Then quoth his brothers,
'Twas none of us, Sir, but some others:
It sounded like the Thunder-crack
Of Jove; he may be at our back.
Keep a strict guard to night, quoth Typhon,
And when 'tis day, d'on each his knife-on;
Be sure you want nor swords nor trees,
When once you 'gin to kill the fleas:
Right early in the morn we'll rise,
To execute our enterprise:
We searcht (but all in vain) on ground,
No God nor Goddess could be found:
From heaven now they issue out,
Onely that we may rise and rout:
The glory of their mighty feat,
Is to come on, and to retreat:
Encelades shall scale their fort,
Whilst others of you finde them sport
With Oaks, and quarters great of Rocks;
Be sure you follow close your knocks.
Who lay on bed with thousand Rugs,
All large, and warm as so much Buff,
Yet all was scarce (or but) enough;
So big was he: from bed he starts;
Ods bobs, quoth he, who is't that farts
So loud, and thus disturbs my rest?
I'll pull his heart from out his brest,
Whoe'er it be. Then quoth his brothers,
'Twas none of us, Sir, but some others:
It sounded like the Thunder-crack
Of Jove; he may be at our back.
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And when 'tis day, d'on each his knife-on;
Be sure you want nor swords nor trees,
When once you 'gin to kill the fleas:
Right early in the morn we'll rise,
To execute our enterprise:
We searcht (but all in vain) on ground,
No God nor Goddess could be found:
From heaven now they issue out,
Onely that we may rise and rout:
The glory of their mighty feat,
Is to come on, and to retreat:
Encelades shall scale their fort,
Whilst others of you finde them sport
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Be sure you follow close your knocks.
Some slept till morn, as void of fear;
Others carouse in wine and chear,
Drink healths unto the Gods confusion;
None apprehending their delusion.
Others carouse in wine and chear,
Drink healths unto the Gods confusion;
None apprehending their delusion.
Mean while, the Gods do understand
Exactly, how from Gyants hand
Their distance stood, expecting hour
When to engage. Mars makes a sowre
Face, and is mad to fight the foe;
So is the great Amphytrio.
Great Jove at this doth fret and fume,
When Mars so boldly durst presume:
Then calling Hercules from chatter,
With him he does debate the matter;
Concludes they should a Council call:
And Jove thereunto summons all.
Exactly, how from Gyants hand
Their distance stood, expecting hour
When to engage. Mars makes a sowre
Face, and is mad to fight the foe;
So is the great Amphytrio.
Great Jove at this doth fret and fume,
When Mars so boldly durst presume:
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With him he does debate the matter;
Concludes they should a Council call:
And Jove thereunto summons all.
| Typhon | |