Vulgus Britannicus Or, The British Hudibrass [by Edward Ward] |
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CANTO VII. Captain Tom's Speech to his Dispersing Brethren.
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CANTO VII. Captain Tom's Speech to his Dispersing Brethren.
The
Mob thus scouring in a Hurry,
T'escape the Guards tremendous Fury;
Some tatter'd Fragments chanc'd to meet,
As flying in a mighty heat;
That by their Heels they now might shun,
The Dangers that attended on
Those Impious Deeds their Hands had done;
For they that make a daring push at
Such Evils that the Devil would blush at;
Must never on their Cause rely,
But from the Sword of Justice fly.
T'escape the Guards tremendous Fury;
Some tatter'd Fragments chanc'd to meet,
As flying in a mighty heat;
That by their Heels they now might shun,
The Dangers that attended on
Those Impious Deeds their Hands had done;
For they that make a daring push at
Such Evils that the Devil would blush at;
Must never on their Cause rely,
But from the Sword of Justice fly.
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Among the rest thus running Home,
Was that fam'd Hero, Captain Tom;
Who in past Reigns in spite to Kings,
Had done so many wond'rous things;
And in perverse Rebellious Ages,
Committed such bold Sacriledges;
And with undaunted Hands effected,
Strange Works by wiser Heads projected.
Was that fam'd Hero, Captain Tom;
Who in past Reigns in spite to Kings,
Had done so many wond'rous things;
And in perverse Rebellious Ages,
Committed such bold Sacriledges;
And with undaunted Hands effected,
Strange Works by wiser Heads projected.
No sooner were these scatter'd Troops
Of Mob (that now were past all hopes,
Of further Mischief) reunited,
Who'd been so very lately frighted;
But following their Leader's Heels,
Into the midst of Lincoln Fields;
The sturdy Champion, then aloud,
Cry'd halt to the Dishearten'd Croud;
And being gravely fac'd about,
Made this Oration to the Rout.
Of Mob (that now were past all hopes,
Of further Mischief) reunited,
Who'd been so very lately frighted;
But following their Leader's Heels,
Into the midst of Lincoln Fields;
The sturdy Champion, then aloud,
Cry'd halt to the Dishearten'd Croud;
And being gravely fac'd about,
Made this Oration to the Rout.
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My Brethren, Countryman, and Friends,
We who should scorn ignoble ends;
And with our Clubs wherein our trust is,
Without Reward do Publick Justice;
Should Recollect when o'er our Tipple,
That we are now the Sov'reign People;
No Rabble without Grace or Brains,
Like those that punish'd Former Reigns;
No foolish Croud, no Scoundrel Pack,
To be at e'ery Statesman's Beck;
No Owls to hollow up a Fool,
That is some plotting Parties Tool;
Nor yet such Heath'nish Brutes (G---d bless us)
As some will by our Practice guess us;
No, all our Advocates aver,
We're now the Original of Pow'r;
That is, the People, and have Right,
When e'er we please, to vent our Spite;
And hope the Kingdom will become,
In time, a glorious Peopledom;
That we once more aloft may mount,
And none dare call us to account.
We who should scorn ignoble ends;
And with our Clubs wherein our trust is,
Without Reward do Publick Justice;
Should Recollect when o'er our Tipple,
That we are now the Sov'reign People;
No Rabble without Grace or Brains,
Like those that punish'd Former Reigns;
No foolish Croud, no Scoundrel Pack,
To be at e'ery Statesman's Beck;
No Owls to hollow up a Fool,
That is some plotting Parties Tool;
Nor yet such Heath'nish Brutes (G---d bless us)
As some will by our Practice guess us;
No, all our Advocates aver,
We're now the Original of Pow'r;
That is, the People, and have Right,
When e'er we please, to vent our Spite;
And hope the Kingdom will become,
In time, a glorious Peopledom;
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And none dare call us to account.
But then, my Friends, you'l ask, no doubt,
How I thus came to lead you out,
Against their Meetings who assert,
Our Pow'r, and always take our Part;
In Answer to the Knotty Quere,
I never to your Hurt ensnare ye;
And as to that amusing Point,
I own there is a Mist'ry in't;
Which tho' at present, I conceal it,
For Reasons, yet will time reveal it;
And plainly show, our only Ends,
Were not to wrong but serve our Friends;
Altho our good Intentions had,
A Face, that look'd so very bad;
So the Fair Dame does oft disgrace,
With Ugly Mask her Beauteous Face;
That when she's pleas'd to shew what's under,
Her Charms may raise the greater wonder.
How I thus came to lead you out,
Against their Meetings who assert,
Our Pow'r, and always take our Part;
In Answer to the Knotty Quere,
I never to your Hurt ensnare ye;
And as to that amusing Point,
I own there is a Mist'ry in't;
Which tho' at present, I conceal it,
For Reasons, yet will time reveal it;
And plainly show, our only Ends,
Were not to wrong but serve our Friends;
Altho our good Intentions had,
A Face, that look'd so very bad;
So the Fair Dame does oft disgrace,
With Ugly Mask her Beauteous Face;
That when she's pleas'd to shew what's under,
Her Charms may raise the greater wonder.
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Besides, we find, that even Watchmen,
Who lay so many Traps to Catch-men;
Break their own Lanthorns in the Scuffle,
To have a fair Pretence to Ruffle
Those Hot-brain'd Persons in the Squabble,
The Croaking Knaves design to Bubble.
Who lay so many Traps to Catch-men;
Break their own Lanthorns in the Scuffle,
To have a fair Pretence to Ruffle
Those Hot-brain'd Persons in the Squabble,
The Croaking Knaves design to Bubble.
Nay, some will scratch their very Skins,
Break their own Heads, or bruise their Shins;
Then on their Adversaries Charge
The Crime, to make the Damage large.
Break their own Heads, or bruise their Shins;
Then on their Adversaries Charge
The Crime, to make the Damage large.
Ah, Brethren, Int'rest mix'd with spite,
Give wrong, sometimes, the Face of Right;
And free the Guilty from the Error,
Of which the Innocent's the Bearer.
Give wrong, sometimes, the Face of Right;
And free the Guilty from the Error,
Of which the Innocent's the Bearer.
However, should our Friends mistake,
And think we do their Cause forsake;
To th' Scandal of the Mob agree,
We're guilty of Inconstancy;
Yet granting what they thus suppose,
And that we really are their Foes;
Yet still we're fix'd and only run,
The Course that we have ever done;
And therefore from their own Assertions,
Shall clear our selves from their Aspersions.
And think we do their Cause forsake;
To th' Scandal of the Mob agree,
We're guilty of Inconstancy;
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And that we really are their Foes;
Yet still we're fix'd and only run,
The Course that we have ever done;
And therefore from their own Assertions,
Shall clear our selves from their Aspersions.
For do not all their Scribes declare,
The High Church but a Faction are;
Who counter run to all those Rules,
Call'd Revolution Principles;
And then suppose we had been Guided,
By them, and with their Int'rest sided;
'Tis plain, we still had done no more,
Than what we'd ever done before;
For we at all times have been true,
To Faction, and they must allow,
By their own Rules we are so now.
In Case we really stand affected,
To th' side of which we are suspected;
How then can those of Conventicle
Assert, we're giddy, false and fickle,
Since we've been ever true, they know,
To Faction, whether High or Low;
Therefore let them think what they will,
I say, My Boys, we're steady still;
To the same Cause they're always hearty,
Who strive against the Rising Party,
And still, whene'er they're vext and crost,
Oppose the side that's uppermost.
The High Church but a Faction are;
Who counter run to all those Rules,
Call'd Revolution Principles;
And then suppose we had been Guided,
By them, and with their Int'rest sided;
'Tis plain, we still had done no more,
Than what we'd ever done before;
For we at all times have been true,
To Faction, and they must allow,
By their own Rules we are so now.
In Case we really stand affected,
To th' side of which we are suspected;
How then can those of Conventicle
Assert, we're giddy, false and fickle,
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To Faction, whether High or Low;
Therefore let them think what they will,
I say, My Boys, we're steady still;
To the same Cause they're always hearty,
Who strive against the Rising Party,
And still, whene'er they're vext and crost,
Oppose the side that's uppermost.
But now, my Friends, 'tis time to March,
The Guards are coming on the search;
Let's Scour, my Lads, to save our Bacon,
For Woe be to us if we're taken.
The Guards are coming on the search;
Let's Scour, my Lads, to save our Bacon,
For Woe be to us if we're taken.
FINIS.
| Vulgus Britannicus | |