Maggots :: :: University of Virginia Library

First of all Merry Mac, come and taste our good cheer,
For our Hearts will all vibrate thy Lyricks to hear.
One and all run and Saddle your Cane, or your Beast,
And hasten full speed to the bountiful Feast!
In pow'rful Gambado's, or sinical Boot;
In a thrid-bare old Cloak, or a new Sur le tont!
Or flaming with Fringe, or meek Kid on your Hand,
With blustering Cravat, or reverent Band!
Both peaceable Hazle, and Kill-devil Steel,
Both Tory-Bamboo, and Fanatick-Brazeel!

In the ingenious Dr. Bat upon Bat—'tis thus—

“It is a Law that holds with Saint, and Sinner,
“That he that has no Knife should have no Dinner.

Remember Batts Axiom, your Curtlass prepare!
Whet Stomachs, and Knives! Here's a Bill of the Fare;

Here's Duck upon Duck, for no more you must look;
If you'll have any more you must go to the Cook.
I tell you the Truth, and I tell you no lye!
They shine and 'twere Butter, or Stars in the Sky:
Zich glorry-vatt Ducks but zildom are zean,

The Ducks were caught in a decoy-pond in Sommerset-shire, and that Country having, 'tis probable their Bellys, or Noses full of 'em, were transported to London for Sale.

Whore shou'd they be bore but about Taunton-Dean.
If they stink Mrs. Muse your nice Nose you may hold!
Disparage 'em not for they're bought, and they're sold;

Here is certainly some mistake in the Copy, and something or other is wanting to Rhyme to [Had 'em] which the Reader is desired, (if he can) to correct with his Pen.

Consider as cheap of the Poulter they had 'em,
As e're of the Higler—(the Servant!) &c.
Here Dick, Black—Bess for thy absence should frown,

For had he lookt foreright his Nose had been so egregiously affronted there could be no enduring it.

Look over thy Shoulder, and 'tweak off their Down:
But prythee deal gently, for 'twould be no Wonder,
They're so soft, and so young, if they sall all-asunder.
'Tis true I confess, if my Nostrils can tell,
They send out a kind of a Civity smell:
Yet more then a Bustard the Poulter might prize one
Like them, for their flavour like pasty Venizon.

Some will say they've a whiff like a Worm-eaten Bitch,

A Dead Horse, on which, after't has been airing in a Ditch for a Fortnight, or a Month, the Tartars will revel, as if 'twere the fattest old Barren Doe in Christendom.

Or a Tartar Ragoo, ready dresst in a Ditch:

For satisfaction in that Story consult the Poem concerning it!

Or a cleanly blue-Pig—but ne're keck honest fellow!
For they're wholesome enow, tho' a little too mellow.

A humour of theirs notorious, of whom the Poet—

“Who, in contempt, will paint the Devil White:

Tho' by his leave and mine too, whatever they think of White Devils, or White Men, 'tis certain they are old Dogs at White-Women, who, for some certain Reasons, (such as made Apuleius gracious) best known to themselves, are not behind hand in Loving them, perhaps because their Complexions differ.

They're black, but where Indians do paint the De'el White,
That colour be sure's a most heavenly sight:

'Tis the opinion of some Learned men, (too great and grave to be affronted with seeing their Names here) That Wild-fowl, Storks, Woodcocks, &c. fly away at the Winters end to the Moon, or some Islands in the Air near it; and thence at Winter return again. Who knows what may be?

They dropt from the Moon out of Breath, and the Thumps
Which they took on the Ground have discolour'd their Rumps.

One of the Company, sometimes known by that Name, was at first for giving 'em their Nunc dimittis into Boghouse.

Cozen John! 't had been better if y'had not been so sickle,
But in our Garden-Cellar had laid 'em in pickle:
Tho' the Cook says they're sweet, I'll venture engage her,
That the Ducks should ha' stunk with the T---'s for a Wager.
Pothecary's Bills have full often half broke us,

I thought I should catch you napping, cryes Mr. Critick, (or he may if he will) how long has Carduus-posset been so wonderful chargable? Ans. 1. If not chargeable Simpliciter, 'tis Secundum quid—There's a Pothecary's large bill, and Paracelsian Conscience in the Case. Is that Insufficient—why have at another of 'em—'Tis true in sensu composito, tho' not diviso, as the learned have it—thus tho' one alone be n't dear, both together may. If neither of all this pother will satisfie, why I can easily stop your Mouth with Bays's answer, which if thought on sooner might have saved all this.

“Why 'tis Sir—because Sir—why what's that to you Sir? Rehearsal.

With chargeable Vomits of Carduus and Crocus:
When these Ducks from the Bum-gut to Keckhorn would draw,
And like a Turn'd—Pudding-bag empty the Maw;
O Spirits of Arm-pits, and Essence of Toes!
O Hogo of Ulcers, and Hospital Nose!

O Devils Dung fragant, and tarrifi'd feather,
With Snuff, and with Carrion, Ana, jumbled together!

'Tis their custom to get a great Jar, and among other Ingredients, as Wine, Chamber-pots, Tobacco, Spittle, they clap in three or four good sizeable Toads—this stopt up till all is dissolv'd, is their very Nectar, with which they'l be as drunk as a Prince—a Beggar—a Tinker—a Wheel-barrow, or Davids Sow.—'Tis no Fable, but credibly related by most that write of 'em—as Baratti's Travels, Gages Travels, &c.

O Jelly of Toads! India's hasty-Pudding!
O Playsters of Issues champt down o'the sudden!
With fat blubby Pease, that are grimy all o're,
Thick butter'd with delicate matter and Gore!
Well! If these you survive, I'll believe 'tis no Fable,

Snakes are a Princely Dish in those Countreys.

That Indians gut Adders, and bring 'em to Table:
But after, if your Pest'lent Breath sally on us,
Wee'll get to the Windward, or Mercy upon us!

They were roasted in a String.

Hoyst 'em up with a Rope at the Fire! 'tis no matter,
Tho' they drop in the dripping, and crawl in the Platter;
So do's the sweet Phænix on Frankincense-Faggot,

In the Fable of the Phænix, 'tis reported, that after the old one is burnt, a Worm first comes out of its Ashes, and so—and so—and so.

Sit roasting her self till she turn to a Maggot.