Canidia, or the Witches :: :: University of Virginia Library

The bloody Hypocrite Cruzado,
The Mendoza Rhodomontado;
The Fox, Ape, Crocodile Hyæna,
The Nobody-knows, what ye mean-a.
The Musical Snake hisses and rattles,
The proud Hen lays her Eggs and Cackles;
The fawning Ape kisses, and hugs
Her Whelps to death, the Bears lick up her Pugs.

The Drunken Sow with a Wanion,
I know no better Pot-Companion;
The Hector Goaring-Bull and Butting-Ram,
The Lustful Goat fills up his Dam:

The Peacock, swollen with Pride,
Would very fain her black Legs hide;
The Swan the like, when she should cry,
Shee chooses rather to sing and dye.

Who'd think't the Famous Allegator,
Sure he is some Sea-Arbitrator.
The Sword-Fish, that nimble Thrasher,
The Whale-with's Tail shall cut and slash her;
The Shee-Bear, the Wolf-Child-chopper,
The Cow licks up the poor Grass-hopper;
The Cormorant scowrs the Ponds, the Stork turns down
All the Offal in the Town.

But, oh, the Spark-Eye, the Bewitching-Face,
The Rosy-Lips kill with a Grace!
The Clapper-Clag, and Silver-Twang,
Leads away many a Simple-Gang,
Like Pitchers by the ears a Roguing,
By Flattering, Lying, and Cologuing;
'Tis a Brave Instrument of Evil,
We use it better than the Devil.

If there be any good ones, 'tis so much the worse,
I have'um all under my Curse:
Widows, Strangers, Fatherless,
I trample down in their Distress.
Let me alone, I'le fright 'um, fear 'um,
Swinge 'um, rack 'um, cramp 'um, tear 'um;
Wou'd I were their Nurse, I'de feed'um, cram 'um,
Whip 'um, hang 'um, ram 'um, dam 'um;
Villains all; am not I their Grannum.

Harpies, Furies, are Lictors
To us Magistrates and Victors.
At his Horns Vulcan takes a Pet,
Holds Mars and Venus in his Net:
Scavinger-Hercules, the Kennel-Raker,
The He-Ranter and She-Quaker.
Hang them up all together,
To feed Crows in wind and weather.

Methinks I wallow all in Lakes
Of Frogs and Toads, Vipers and Snakes;
It is a pleasure t'have such Mates,
And to over-rule the Fates.
What can the Devils do more; if need,
Or can they do so much indeed?
I am sure we dare defy'um,
And in all Points all times out-vy 'um.

This is the Trade of old w'have driven,
And shall, as long as we be liven;
But we must dye, and post away
To Hell, for ever and a day.
But to make sure, before we go,
We will have all the World to know,
That they shall be in Hell, before
Ever we mean to give o're.

And when there's no more left to kill,
W'have done enough, we have our fill.
Now Devils quake, We come, we come,
Have at you Sirs, make room, make room.
Compound with us, or else w'have swore,
Henceforth ye shall be Devils no more.

We must Rule all, or set you such a Spell
As shall turn you all out of Hell.

I have but one poor Case to put,
(You'l say, I am an arrant Slut)
The Devils could ne're come to't,
Much less offer to set it a foot.
Suppose those Fiends all in a Nest,
Should crow'd into one Poor man possest.
They'l make him roar, you'l say, and yell,
As if he were tortur'd in Hell.
And what then? he raves, lays about him, flies
To Caves and Desarts, howls and dies.

A poor Business! in a kind of sport and play,
To kill all that lies in's way.
But what think ye, if less hurt is done in Hell, by far,
Than Witches do in Peace or War?
For ev'ry one now's a Fool or Madman,
Be't so, but still every one's a Badman.
This is something; No quiet when all are Itch'd,
All are undone, all are Bewitch'd!

Families, Cities, Kingdoms reel,
The World dances upon a Wheel:
Courts, Cities, Countries, Cloysters, Camps,
Colledges, Schools, all are upon the Rants;
All Statesmen, Teachers, Captains, Lords,
No believing Deeds nor Words.
I know not what to say more, under th' Sun,
We all undo, and are all undone.

All's Bedlam! all have their Figary-fits;
Shake hands; there's none of us in his right Wits?
To speak Truth, 'tis neither better nor worse,
And I am glad on't, all's a Curse!
I've spent my Breath, I've spent my Gall,
And yet this is not All.
I draw the Curtain conceive the Rest,
For I can paint no farther, bad's the Best,
When there can be no more exprest.