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Maggots

or, Poems on Several Subjects, Never before Handled. By a Schollar [i.e. Samuel Wesley]

Wesley, Samuel (1662-1735)

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[In's own defence the Author writes]

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On two Souldiers killing one another for a Groat.

[No Monarch's Death, no fall of Prince or King]

To my Gingerbread Mistress.

On the Bear-fac'd Lady.

An Anacreontique on a Pair of BREECHES.

A Tobacco Pipe.

On a COW's TAIL.

On a Hat broke at Cudgels

A Covetous old Fellow having taken occasion to hang himself a little; another comes in, in the nick, and cuts him down; but instead of Thanking him for his Life, he accuses him for spoyling the Rope.

On a Supper of a Stinking Ducks.

To the Laud and Praise of a Shock Bitch.

An ELEGY On the untimely and much lamented Death of Poor Spot, as loving a Bitch as ever went upon two Legs, who departed this Life,

A Box made like an Egg, was between Jest and Earnest, between Stoln and Borrow'd; but at last, (see the Honesty!) after a Year's Possession, restor'd with this in the Belly on't.

The Beggar and Poet.

Plures aluit Aristoteles quam Alexander.

A King turn'd Thresher.

On a Discourteous Damsel that call'd the Right Worshipful Author—(an't please ye!) Sawcy Puppy.

A Full and True Account of a Journey with its Appurtenances.

The Leather Bottle.

Out of Lucian's true History, Part the First.

An Elegant Letter, with a Copy of fine Verses by a London Wit, in answer to a Lampoon.

Against a Kiss.

On a certain Nose.

In Praise of Horns.

Advice to Monsieur Ragoo, who had his choice either to be Hang'd or Married.

On a pretended Schollar that would have had some Verses he had stoln from another Book inserted into the Maggots.

A Pindaric Poem On Three Skipps of a Louse.

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The Beggar and Poet.

I confess I can't very well get clear of a Tautology in this place: But for the defence of my Title; tho' many will tell me 'tis some kin to Idem per Idem, and that Beggar and Poet. are the stark-self-same-specifical-numerical thing: Yet let 'em consider 'em as I do, (sub diversos formales conceptus) as the Learned have it; and then all's well agen.

Happy the Man who free from Care and Strife,
With Dog and Bell gropes thro' the Road of Life!
Beggar at large, without or Fear, or Shame,
He'll all the World his Benefactors name.
He, like the famous ancient Scythian Race,

The manner of living practised by the old Nomades, and the Tartars, their now Successors, is much alike, if not the same: In olden times they used to remove Bag and Baggage from Post to Pillar, as often as the Pasture was eaten by their Retinue. Some of the Fathers that have travelled into Tartary of late Years to make one Proselite, give just the same description of their Manners.—See Hackluit's Voyages.

Shifts not himself as often as his place.
Tir'd with the pillage of one fruitful Plain,
He and his Cattle soon decamp again:
He with a proud Repulse when warmly vext,
Throws you a hearty Curse, and tries the next.
No long Harangues to squeeze the stubborn Pence,
No Oratorical Impertinence,
Nor grateful murd'ring both of Truth and Sense.

87

He'll in two Lines compendiously impart
The System of his truly Liberal Art;
Pray Sir, the Gift: And when the Farthings stir,
I hope you'll never live to want it Sir!
When Beadle Death does him at last attend,
Let him go where he will, in this he's sure to mend:
Death kindly Land and House provides him, more
Besides the Cage, than e're he had before.

Thrice miserable they whom want and Fate
Eternal Mumpers made at Learning's Gate:
Their Souls indeed they cram with notions high,
But let poor Colon live by Sympathy:
To Honourable Beggars they give place,
Lean younger Brothers of the lowsie Race.