Vulgus Britannicus Or, The British Hudibrass [by Edward Ward] |
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CANTO X. The Disputes and Squabbles of different Parties in a Tavern-Kitchin.
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 | Vulgus Britannicus |  |
CANTO X. The Disputes and Squabbles of different Parties in a Tavern-Kitchin.
When thus the Rabble were become
A Lawful Mob by Beat of Drum;
And many who by Pains and Sweatings,
Had gutted and until'd the Meetings;
Were now imploy'd as careful Warders
To hinder and suppress Disorders;
'Twas then all sides began to shew
Their Teeth, and their old spite renew;
And with invet'rate Tongues express,
Their Jarring Zeal and Eagerness;
Each Tavern-Kitchen where Old Sots
Were us'd to nod, o'er Half-pint Pots;
And Amicably chat together,
About the Wars, or else the Weather;
Grew now as noisy to the full,
As Billingsgate or Hockley-Hole;
When Fishwives in a Rage are prating,
Or when the Bull or Bear are baiting;
So Nations which have long been blest
With Ease, and Downy Peace possest;
By suddain Strife, and Tongue Contention,
Become the Nurs'ries of Dissention.
A Lawful Mob by Beat of Drum;
And many who by Pains and Sweatings,
Had gutted and until'd the Meetings;
Were now imploy'd as careful Warders
To hinder and suppress Disorders;
'Twas then all sides began to shew
Their Teeth, and their old spite renew;
And with invet'rate Tongues express,
Their Jarring Zeal and Eagerness;
Each Tavern-Kitchen where Old Sots
Were us'd to nod, o'er Half-pint Pots;
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About the Wars, or else the Weather;
Grew now as noisy to the full,
As Billingsgate or Hockley-Hole;
When Fishwives in a Rage are prating,
Or when the Bull or Bear are baiting;
So Nations which have long been blest
With Ease, and Downy Peace possest;
By suddain Strife, and Tongue Contention,
Become the Nurs'ries of Dissention.
In a warm Corner near the Rang,
Sits one, perhaps, just come from Change;
Who when he speaks is proud to show,
If he's of any Church, 'tis Low;
No sooner has he drank a Glass,
But to proclaim himself an Ass;
The Rev'rend Doctor to be sure,
Must be revil'd for Half an Hour;
And fifty Lies let loose to Blacken
The Man they had so much Mistaken;
Hoping, in vain, by such Discourse,
To make his Cause appear the worse;
And thro' his Sides to wound the Church;
Th' Apostate Tool had left ith' Lurch;
So he who leaves a Virtuous Wife,
To indulge a loose and Vitious Life,
Tho' she be prudent, Just and Holy,
Will charge his Baseness on her Folly.
Sits one, perhaps, just come from Change;
Who when he speaks is proud to show,
If he's of any Church, 'tis Low;
No sooner has he drank a Glass,
But to proclaim himself an Ass;
The Rev'rend Doctor to be sure,
Must be revil'd for Half an Hour;
And fifty Lies let loose to Blacken
The Man they had so much Mistaken;
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To make his Cause appear the worse;
And thro' his Sides to wound the Church;
Th' Apostate Tool had left ith' Lurch;
So he who leaves a Virtuous Wife,
To indulge a loose and Vitious Life,
Tho' she be prudent, Just and Holy,
Will charge his Baseness on her Folly.
Perhaps another Hungry Sinner,
Preferring Bus'ness to his Dinner;
Has got before him for Relief,
A Cutlet, or a Steak of Beef,
To stay his Craving Stomach till
He marches Home t'a better Meal;
But being highly pleas'd to hear,
What mighty Crimes were made appear,
Against the Man at whom they Level'd
Their Spite, as if they were Bedevil'd;
His swelling Malice and his Heat,
Scarce gives him time to chew his Meat;
But some Opprobrious Word's between
Each bit, must ease his rising Spleen;
Now down one hasty Mouthful goes,
Then up some envious Lie he throws;
Till betwixt eating fast and Lying
He's Choak'd with Food, and Falsifying:
So she wh' against her Spouse Rebels,
And Scolds and Chatters at her Meals;
When she's inclin'd to make a Fraction,
Will rather lose the Satisfaction
Of eating peaceably in silence,
Than Curb her Tongue, and check her Vi'lence.
Preferring Bus'ness to his Dinner;
Has got before him for Relief,
A Cutlet, or a Steak of Beef,
To stay his Craving Stomach till
He marches Home t'a better Meal;
But being highly pleas'd to hear,
What mighty Crimes were made appear,
Against the Man at whom they Level'd
Their Spite, as if they were Bedevil'd;
His swelling Malice and his Heat,
Scarce gives him time to chew his Meat;
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Each bit, must ease his rising Spleen;
Now down one hasty Mouthful goes,
Then up some envious Lie he throws;
Till betwixt eating fast and Lying
He's Choak'd with Food, and Falsifying:
So she wh' against her Spouse Rebels,
And Scolds and Chatters at her Meals;
When she's inclin'd to make a Fraction,
Will rather lose the Satisfaction
Of eating peaceably in silence,
Than Curb her Tongue, and check her Vi'lence.
A Third, perhaps, takes this Occasion
Of setting forth what Veneration
He has for that Learn'd Guide that writ,
To shew his Head, in spite of Wit,
As weak and crazy as his Feet;
Crying alas, 'twas wondrous hard,
Such Merit should have no Reward;
For giving to the People more
Than even God had given before;
And for discov'ring to Mankind,
Those Truths we in no Scripture find;
Affirming Crowns were first bestow'd,
Not by Good Heav'n, but by the Croud;
That from their Voice all Pow'r descended,
And on their Whimsies still depended;
So crafty Scholars may by force
Of Logick, prove a Man a Horse;
But when they've done, he is no more
A Horse or Gelding than before.
Of setting forth what Veneration
He has for that Learn'd Guide that writ,
To shew his Head, in spite of Wit,
As weak and crazy as his Feet;
Crying alas, 'twas wondrous hard,
Such Merit should have no Reward;
For giving to the People more
Than even God had given before;
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Those Truths we in no Scripture find;
Affirming Crowns were first bestow'd,
Not by Good Heav'n, but by the Croud;
That from their Voice all Pow'r descended,
And on their Whimsies still depended;
So crafty Scholars may by force
Of Logick, prove a Man a Horse;
But when they've done, he is no more
A Horse or Gelding than before.
Next these perhaps the surly Spawn
Of some Rebellious Puritan;
Whose Heath'nish Principles unbounded,
Declare him to be truly Roundhead;
Sits growling o'er his Wine alone,
Like a Curs'd Mastiff o'er a Bone;
Expressing e'ery thing he says,
In true Fanatick Calv's-head Phrase;
Railing at Bishops and at Kings,
As Popish Antichristian Things;
As if he thought the strength of Reason,
Consisted in Notorious Treason;
And that it gave convincing Force,
To his dull scandalous Discourse;
So she that from the Brewhouse brings
Small Tiff in Tub's that hang on Sliings,
Believes the louder still she Scolds,
The stronger Argument she holds;
And that the greater noise she makes,
The more she to the Purpose Speaks.
Of some Rebellious Puritan;
Whose Heath'nish Principles unbounded,
Declare him to be truly Roundhead;
Sits growling o'er his Wine alone,
Like a Curs'd Mastiff o'er a Bone;
Expressing e'ery thing he says,
In true Fanatick Calv's-head Phrase;
Railing at Bishops and at Kings,
As Popish Antichristian Things;
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Consisted in Notorious Treason;
And that it gave convincing Force,
To his dull scandalous Discourse;
So she that from the Brewhouse brings
Small Tiff in Tub's that hang on Sliings,
Believes the louder still she Scolds,
The stronger Argument she holds;
And that the greater noise she makes,
The more she to the Purpose Speaks.
Among these Church and Monarch Haters,
Perhaps a brace of Moderators
Sit tippling as we oft have seen 'em,
With little Buffet-stool between 'em;
These are the Janus looking Fools
The Faction work with as their Tools,
Who with Church Discipline Concede,
Yet strongly for Dissenters plead;
And for the sake of Peace and Union;
Altho' they're of the Church Communion;
Comply with e'ery thing that shows
They're Friends to them that are her Foes,
And prove ill enemies to such,
As they think love the Church too much;
Rail at those Men who venture most,
To save her when in Storms she's tost;
And on their Shoulders lay the blame,
Of others that deserve the shame;
Join with the Saints in Tavern Squabbles,
To pelt 'em down with Lies and Fables;
And with impatient Warmth decry,
Their Vertue and Integrity;
Yet can with wondrous Zeal assert,
They Love the Church with all their Heart;
Tho' they serve God but little better,
Than those that think there's no Creator;
So Libertines we find will swear
Much Love unto the Spotless Fair;
When all their Ends are to deceive 'em,
First to debauch 'em, then to leave 'em:
So those who stile themselves the Low,
To Church instead of Meeting go,
Only to bend Her to their Bow.
Perhaps a brace of Moderators
Sit tippling as we oft have seen 'em,
With little Buffet-stool between 'em;
These are the Janus looking Fools
The Faction work with as their Tools,
Who with Church Discipline Concede,
Yet strongly for Dissenters plead;
And for the sake of Peace and Union;
Altho' they're of the Church Communion;
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They're Friends to them that are her Foes,
And prove ill enemies to such,
As they think love the Church too much;
Rail at those Men who venture most,
To save her when in Storms she's tost;
And on their Shoulders lay the blame,
Of others that deserve the shame;
Join with the Saints in Tavern Squabbles,
To pelt 'em down with Lies and Fables;
And with impatient Warmth decry,
Their Vertue and Integrity;
Yet can with wondrous Zeal assert,
They Love the Church with all their Heart;
Tho' they serve God but little better,
Than those that think there's no Creator;
So Libertines we find will swear
Much Love unto the Spotless Fair;
When all their Ends are to deceive 'em,
First to debauch 'em, then to leave 'em:
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To Church instead of Meeting go,
Only to bend Her to their Bow.
Among this Kitchin Crowd of Sinners,
Who love to be the Warm Beginners
Of such Disputes, from whence arise,
Hard Words and Animosities;
Perhaps there sit some Friends that show
Themselves as high as th' other Low;
Who hating the Fanatick short-pot
Are gather'd round the noble Quart-pot;
That they may Drink a Health to those
Who love the Church, and not her Foes;
And wish Conversion unto all,
Who strive in vain to Work her fall;
Yet shew as great a Detestation,
Of Pope and Popish Innovation,
As any down-look'd Son of Grace
That wears his Conscience in his Face;
And fills his Breast where that should be,
With Malice and Hypocrisy;
So a close Stool with Cedar Case,
May for a Nest of Drawers pass;
But if you look within you'l find,
'Tis but with Odious Balsam lin'd;
And tho' without set off and painted,
It is not what it represented.
Who love to be the Warm Beginners
Of such Disputes, from whence arise,
Hard Words and Animosities;
Perhaps there sit some Friends that show
Themselves as high as th' other Low;
Who hating the Fanatick short-pot
Are gather'd round the noble Quart-pot;
That they may Drink a Health to those
Who love the Church, and not her Foes;
And wish Conversion unto all,
Who strive in vain to Work her fall;
Yet shew as great a Detestation,
Of Pope and Popish Innovation,
As any down-look'd Son of Grace
That wears his Conscience in his Face;
And fills his Breast where that should be,
With Malice and Hypocrisy;
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May for a Nest of Drawers pass;
But if you look within you'l find,
'Tis but with Odious Balsam lin'd;
And tho' without set off and painted,
It is not what it represented.
When thus the Tavern-Kitchen's throng'd,
With Men so differently tongu'd;
Some tipling Claret, others Whitewine,
In both but very little Rightwine:
No sooner does God Bacchus steal,
Into their Brains and warm their Zeal,
But each sets up himself to be
Down right Infallibility;
And talks as if he was at least,
A Judge, a Statesman, or a Priest;
And that he knew much more than they,
Whom 'twas his Duty to obey;
One in the Scriptures would be dabbling;
And about saving Grace be squabbling;
Till he had o'er his Pipe and Pint,
Knock'd all Religion out of Joint;
And turn'd his Saintlike Moderation,
To Madness, Folly, Spite and Passion;
So she that does her Vices skreen,
With Puritannick Dress and Mein;
And shews us in her study'd Face,
Dissembled Modesty and Grace;
Warm her with Wine and you'll discover,
The Saint to be a Whore all over;
For no designing Knave or Lass
Can stand the Test of Bowl or Glass.
With Men so differently tongu'd;
Some tipling Claret, others Whitewine,
In both but very little Rightwine:
No sooner does God Bacchus steal,
Into their Brains and warm their Zeal,
But each sets up himself to be
Down right Infallibility;
And talks as if he was at least,
A Judge, a Statesman, or a Priest;
And that he knew much more than they,
Whom 'twas his Duty to obey;
One in the Scriptures would be dabbling;
And about saving Grace be squabbling;
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Knock'd all Religion out of Joint;
And turn'd his Saintlike Moderation,
To Madness, Folly, Spite and Passion;
So she that does her Vices skreen,
With Puritannick Dress and Mein;
And shews us in her study'd Face,
Dissembled Modesty and Grace;
Warm her with Wine and you'll discover,
The Saint to be a Whore all over;
For no designing Knave or Lass
Can stand the Test of Bowl or Glass.
A second then with spiteful Mouth,
Most gravely tells you for a Truth;
That the late rising of the Rout,
Does plainly prove, beyond all doubt,
To be a Wicked Popish Plot,
Contriv'd by a Rebellious Knot
Of Papists harb'ring in the Nation,
To spoil the Peace in Agitation;
That the High Church did also Join
To carry on the Grand Design;
And that five Jesuits who were known,
Were seen to lead the Rabble on;
And to excite 'em to go thro'
The Mischiefs they had then in view;
And that for certain some we'd taken,
Would tell the Truth to save their Bacon;
Thus Bastard Mischief never wants
A Father here whilst we have Saints;
Who always swear the Wicked Brat,
Upon the Party that they hate.
Most gravely tells you for a Truth;
That the late rising of the Rout,
Does plainly prove, beyond all doubt,
To be a Wicked Popish Plot,
Contriv'd by a Rebellious Knot
Of Papists harb'ring in the Nation,
To spoil the Peace in Agitation;
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To carry on the Grand Design;
And that five Jesuits who were known,
Were seen to lead the Rabble on;
And to excite 'em to go thro'
The Mischiefs they had then in view;
And that for certain some we'd taken,
Would tell the Truth to save their Bacon;
Thus Bastard Mischief never wants
A Father here whilst we have Saints;
Who always swear the Wicked Brat,
Upon the Party that they hate.
A Third Man in a mighty Passion,
Forgetting all his Moderation;
Charges the Rising of the Mob,
Point blank upon the Holy Robe;
And consequently does not fail,
To maul the Doctor Tooth and Nail;
And with much Pleasure Jirks the Church,
As if his Words were Rods of Birch;
Yet all the time that he's so warm,
Will cry he means the Church no harm;
So the Base Coward have I heard
Abuse the very Man he'as feard
Behind his Back, and yet pretend,
In the same Breath to be his Friend.
Forgetting all his Moderation;
Charges the Rising of the Mob,
Point blank upon the Holy Robe;
And consequently does not fail,
To maul the Doctor Tooth and Nail;
And with much Pleasure Jirks the Church,
As if his Words were Rods of Birch;
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Will cry he means the Church no harm;
So the Base Coward have I heard
Abuse the very Man he'as feard
Behind his Back, and yet pretend,
In the same Breath to be his Friend.
At length the High Church take Offence
At so much wild Impertinence;
And with a stern and manly heat,
Their Low Church Argument defeat;
Now Pro and Con they Talk and Rattle,
Till their warm Words presage a Battle;
Provoking Healths two are begun
To spur the growing Contest on;
And large Confronting Bumpers pass
To shew their Spite in e'ery Glass;
Till at length Drunk and Mad between,
The heat of Wine, and that of Spleen;
Their mutual Rancour fiercer grows,
And then they fall from Words to Blows;
One with a stout S---l Cuff,
Soon gives his Low Church Foe enough;
Another High Church Friend as proudly,
Subdues a Saint that cry'd up H---y;
Thus those who by reviling first
Begot the Fray, came off by th' worst;
And stood convinc'd their Cause was bad,
By the shrewd Knocks and Thumps they had;
For Blows we find sometimes prevail,
When other Arguments shall fail;
As Laws severe, well us'd in Season,
Convince the stubborn more than Reason.
At so much wild Impertinence;
And with a stern and manly heat,
Their Low Church Argument defeat;
Now Pro and Con they Talk and Rattle,
Till their warm Words presage a Battle;
Provoking Healths two are begun
To spur the growing Contest on;
And large Confronting Bumpers pass
To shew their Spite in e'ery Glass;
Till at length Drunk and Mad between,
The heat of Wine, and that of Spleen;
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And then they fall from Words to Blows;
One with a stout S---l Cuff,
Soon gives his Low Church Foe enough;
Another High Church Friend as proudly,
Subdues a Saint that cry'd up H---y;
Thus those who by reviling first
Begot the Fray, came off by th' worst;
And stood convinc'd their Cause was bad,
By the shrewd Knocks and Thumps they had;
For Blows we find sometimes prevail,
When other Arguments shall fail;
As Laws severe, well us'd in Season,
Convince the stubborn more than Reason.
FINIS.
| Vulgus Britannicus | |