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Poems on Several Occasions

Written by Charles Cotton

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A Rogue.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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A Rogue.

Reader , read this Man, than whom
Is none more vile in Christendom:
Thou may'st know him, wheresoe're
Thou meet'st him, by his Character,
And, to begin first with his Face,
It is the worst that ever was,
So Crab-like, wrinkled, and so foul,
His Mother shit him sure at stool.

329

To that, his Limbs are such, thou'dst swear
No two of them could make a pair:
His Hands! Man never saw such clutches,
Nor such Feet walk without crutches;
The bulk to these fair branches is
A Chaos of confounded Vice:
A trunk of Tumours, and Diseases,
Which a thousand Ulcers eases,
With a stink that would infect us,
Did not kinder Heaven protect us.
Now how this hide of his is lin'd!
To this shape he has a mind
Of so damn'd a leprous taint
As the Devil himself would Saint.
Bloody, revengeful, trecherous:
A hellish Lyar, covetous;
A cursed Sycophanting Slave,
A Fool, a Coward, and a Knave:
Lewdly debaucht (the Devil take him!)
As Drabs, and Dice, and Drink can make him:
Loudly profane 'bove Blasphemy,
The abstract of all Villany;

430

Ignorant of all things, but evil:
And now y' 'ave warning of a Devil.