A Journey to Hell or, A Visit paid to the Devil. A poem. The Second Edition [by Edward Ward] |
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| I. |
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| II. |
| III. |
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| II. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| III. | VOL. III. |
| I. |
| II. |
 | A Journey to Hell |  |
3
III. VOL. III.
[CANTO I.]
After some short retirement from the Bench,Their fiery Drowths with Stygian Juice to quench,
Th'infernal Judge refresh'd with his retreat,
Return'd, and reassum'd his Judgment seat:
The grave Chief-Justice thus in order plac'd,
And Hell's black Bar with Learned Council grac'd,
The loud-mouth Cryer in King Pluto's Name,
(Commanding Silence) did the Court proclaim.
This done, the Turnkey of the deep Abyss,
Where Souls lay scorching for their Wickedness,
Was loudly call'd, in order to prepare
His sinful Remnants for the Stygian Bar,
The swarthy ill-look'd Goaler soon appear'd,
With his grim Whiskers, and his grisly Beard,
Arm'd with dire Serpents, of a size o'ergrown,
And Scorpions tuck'd into a Leathern Zone;
Follow'd by sighing Troops, thin-jaw'd and pale,
Ratling their Chains like Fellons in a Goal.
4
Bemoaning what eternal Doom they fear'd,
Foretold by Conscience e're their Souls were try'd,
The sad Rewards of Avarice and Pride;
For Conscience will fore-judge, tho' ne'er so sear'd,
And damn the Guilty e're their Cause be heard.
When the stern Cerb'rus had with painful Care,
Marshal'd his drooping Pris'ners round the Bar.
The awful Court beheld the trembling Sprites,
And thus the Clerk the sinful Herd indicts.
My Lord, these impious Shades behind the Bar,
Whose guilty Looks their horrid Crimes declare,
Wanting the Grace of G---d before their Eyes,
Did, upon Earth, most trait'rously devise
Sundry base means to trouble and inflame
Their native Kingdom, whence the Pris'ners came,
In foreign fruitless Wars involv'd the State,
To draw the Publick low, and make themselves more great;
Crept slyly into every Place of Trust,
By branding with false Infamy the Just;
Advanc'd new Projects, subtly to ingross
The Nations Treasure, to the Nations loss.
And then at Usurers extortion lent
Their ill-got Thousands, with a base intent
To serve their wicked selves, and not the Government.
So faithless Stewards basely act their Cheats,
Who at a distance manage great Estates,
Oft receive Money, to their Lords unknown,
And make them, when they want, pay Int'rest for their own.
5
Who so demure before the Court appear,
By lying Pamphlets labour'd to delude
And lead astray the brainless Multitude:
Fill'd with vile Notions ev'ry empty Pate,
Bad for their Souls, and dangerous for the State:
Render'd all those that did their Ends oppose,
To the believing Crowd, the Nations Foes:
Imploy'd each scandalous invective Pen,
T'abuse and stigmatize the best of Men;
Friends to the Church, to Pop'ry disavow'd,
With odious Names, obnoxious to the Crowd,
That the rude Mob might take the wicked cry,
And hunt down those did their Intrigues defy,
Who would, for no bye Ends, with base Designs comply;
But like true Patriots always firmly stood,
To save the Nation from a Factious Brood;
True to the Church, their Country, and the State,
And only aim'd to be in Goodness Great:
Such in their barren Pamphlets they bely'd;
Such they perplex'd, and such they villifi'd.
So mercenary Jilts, bred up in Stews,
Do the most virtuous of their Sex abuse,
And to defend their own lascivious Fau't,
Will swear the modest are in private naught,
And are the silent Sows that drink up all the draught.
Nay, more, my Lord, dead Worthies they defam'd,
Whose Reliques justly Veneration claim'd,
6
With base Reports, unchristian and unjust;
What Truths they found that would their Work supply,
Their Malice still improv'd into a Lye:
Pass'd by their Vertues which will out-live Time,
And magnify'd each slip into a Crime.
So angry Statesmen, enviously bent
To harrass or subvert the Government,
Select their Kings bad Actions from the Good,
And shew him monstrous to the Multitude.
In close Cabals they wicked Plots contriv'd,
And ev'ry old rebellious Fewd reviv'd.
The good old Laws they slyly undermin'd,
And step by step for Pow'r supream design'd;
Labour'd the Church establish'd to subdue;
But, to conceal their Plots from common view,
Did Reformation to the Crowd pretend,
To draw them in to work their wicked End;
But whilst their secret Ills in Embrio lay,
Advancing to Perfection day by day,
To improve their Projects and conceal their aim,
They made the Pope and Devil bear the blame;
Their Plots they hid, by some sham Popish blind,
That broke and vanish'd into Smoke and Wind,
And in the Mist they manag'd what themselves design'd.
So cunning Divers oft cry out aloud,
Beware your Pockets, to amuse the Crowd,
That by such Cautions they may pass as Friends,
And creep the closer to effect their Ends.
7
Which, when they'd Pow'r, to others they deny'd,
Nor ever could they peaceably enjoy
A kind Indulgence, or a great Employ,
But when obtain'd, the favour they abus'd,
And clamour'd when the Throne their Suit refus'd:
Forgot the former Bounties they receiv'd,
And were, at one Repulse, so vex'd and griev'd,
That all the Thanks and Duty which they ow'd,
Were basely turn'd into Ingratitude.
So envious Witches, on the least disgust,
Torment their greatest Benefactors most;
Because Infernal Malice but extends,
Instead of hurting Foes, to injure Friends.
The Church, for Persecution, they arraign'd,
And both her holy Sacraments profan'd;
Condemn'd her Doctrines to a vile degree,
And call'd her decent Rites rank Popery;
Revil'd her Members, did her Priests disgrace,
And stil'd her Common-Pray'r the dregs of Mass;
Despis'd her Prelates and the Robes they wore,
As Marks and Badges of the Scarlet Whore;
Did for no Cause her Hierarchy degrade,
And ridicul'd with Spight her Female Head.
So murmu'ring Fools, Illiterate and Rude,
Too oft reproach the Vertuous and the Good,
And Cavil at those things they never understood.
In the High-Church they Moderation lov'd,
Yet never us'd the Vertue they approv'd,
8
Which their own Malice had proclaim'd their Foes:
Thus did to others those abuses give,
Themselves deserv'd, but hated to recieve.
They rent God's House, and did Divisions sow,
One part they call'd High-Church, the other Low;
The High they held as Papists, in disdain,
But prais'd the Low as just and mod'rate Men,
Whose cool Indifference to their Faith was such,
They serv'd God little, and themselves too much.
These by the grunting Faction were Carest,
As moderate Saints, with tender Conseience blest,
Altho' but Luke-warm Christians at the best.
One way they Look'd and did the other Row,
Would little Zeal without much Int'rest show;
Run with the Church, and with Dissenters hold,
And would comply with any side for Gold;
Made that the standard of their wavering Faith,
And thought the richest way the surest Path;
Which, to their sorrow, they at last have found
Has brought them to the place they'd fain have shun'd.
So harden'd Thieves pursue their Ills, with hope
To baffle Justice, and escape the Rope;
But Justice still o'vertakes them in the end,
And punishes as sure as they offend.
Now, my good Lord, I've open'd to the Court,
A Catalogue of Crimes o'th' blacker sort;
I've Spirits of Integrity and Worth
Ready to witness what the Charge sets forth.
9
Pleaded Not-guilty, tho' they guilty were;
But Pluto's Evidence soon stretch'd their Throats,
And made the false Offenders change their Notes,
Who having not one Plea in their defence,
Left them to justifie their Innocence,
They in a rage fell foul upon the Evidence,
Call'd them High-Flyers, mercenary Rogues,
Non-jurants, Perkenites, and Popish Dogs,
Fools, Traytors, Jacobites, and fawning Slaves,
Tories, French Pensioners, and perjur'd Knaves.
This saucy usage in the open Court,
Inflam'd the Bench, and did themselves most hurt:
The Judge provok'd with such an envious Huff,
Gave the rash Pris'ners a severe reproof:
The Jury mov'd to hear them so enrag'd,
Found them all guilty of the Crimes alledg'd;
Which being done, the angry Judge arose,
Turn'd up his sable Whiskers to his Nose,
Compos'd his Looks, then gravely as he cou'd,
Pronounc'd the following Sentence as he stood.
Ye restless Souls that plagu'd your native Land,
Too proud t'Obey, too rigid to Command,
That no Abuse would take, or Mercy give,
Do no Man Right, nor any Wrong receive;
That made, with your loud Pray'rs, your Parlors ring,
Yet never truly serv'd your God or King,
But 'twixt Self-Interest and dissembled Zeal,
With both did hypocritically deal.
You who on Earth did Satan's Wiles defy,
And still made Reformation all your cry;
Who Canted in your Shops, yet chous'd each Friend,
That did on your starch'd Honesty depend;
Who fool'd your selves, tho' play'd the Knave with Fools,
And damn'd, betwixt two Sacraments, your Souls:
Thus barter'd, to your own eternal loss,
Heaven's everlasting Joys for worldly Dross,
Which cannot here th'infernal Wrath appease,
Or purchase for your selves one Moments ease.
On your sad Souls this Sentence must I give,
Which none can e'er reverse, or Time retrieve.
Too proud t'Obey, too rigid to Command,
That no Abuse would take, or Mercy give,
Do no Man Right, nor any Wrong receive;
That made, with your loud Pray'rs, your Parlors ring,
Yet never truly serv'd your God or King,
But 'twixt Self-Interest and dissembled Zeal,
With both did hypocritically deal.
10
And still made Reformation all your cry;
Who Canted in your Shops, yet chous'd each Friend,
That did on your starch'd Honesty depend;
Who fool'd your selves, tho' play'd the Knave with Fools,
And damn'd, betwixt two Sacraments, your Souls:
Thus barter'd, to your own eternal loss,
Heaven's everlasting Joys for worldly Dross,
Which cannot here th'infernal Wrath appease,
Or purchase for your selves one Moments ease.
On your sad Souls this Sentence must I give,
Which none can e'er reverse, or Time retrieve.
What you abhor most you shall always see,
Devils and Popes shall your Tormenters be:
Th'Egyptian Creed; which you so much despise,
Two Jesuits shall support before your Eyes;
And ev'ry time you're seen to look ascue,
Nine Salamanca Flogs shall be your due.
Hell's smutty Scullion shall with mighty Bowls
Of scalding Porridge feed your thirsty Souls,
That ev'ry reaking Spoonful you receive,
May a fresh Item to your Mem'ry give,
And make you mindful how profane you were
To, with that hodge-podge Name, revile the best of Pray'r.
High-Church Religion, mingled with no Craft,
Is that alone which carries Souls aloft;
When you too late by sad experience know,
Low-Church has brought your sinful Shades thus low,
Where all these Pains pronounc'd you must endure,
And weeping gnash your Teeth for evermore.
Devils and Popes shall your Tormenters be:
Th'Egyptian Creed; which you so much despise,
Two Jesuits shall support before your Eyes;
And ev'ry time you're seen to look ascue,
Nine Salamanca Flogs shall be your due.
Hell's smutty Scullion shall with mighty Bowls
Of scalding Porridge feed your thirsty Souls,
That ev'ry reaking Spoonful you receive,
May a fresh Item to your Mem'ry give,
And make you mindful how profane you were
To, with that hodge-podge Name, revile the best of Pray'r.
High-Church Religion, mingled with no Craft,
Is that alone which carries Souls aloft;
When you too late by sad experience know,
Low-Church has brought your sinful Shades thus low,
Where all these Pains pronounc'd you must endure,
And weeping gnash your Teeth for evermore.
11
And punish them according to their Doom:
If any Mercy by your Imps be shown,
The Convicts Torments shall become your own;
Mercy's an Attribute above our Sphere,
Our only Talent must be Justice here,
Heav'n may be kind, but Hell must be severe.
CANTO II.
When these were gone, a distant noise I heard,
From num'rous Crowds that afar off appear'd,
And Voices crying out, Make room, make room,
For here th'Oppressors of the Wretched come,
Those Gluttons that their own Tun bellies fed,
At the Poor's cost, whose Bowels pin'd for Bread,
Whilst these Sack-bibing Knaves in Taverns lay,
And din'd on Pig and Capon ev'ry day:
Thus on that Charity themselves would feast,
Giv'n by the Rich to succour the Distrest.
As the fat wheezing bulky Tribe drew nigh,
This with the Rabble was the common cry.
At last to th'Bar a near approach they made,
And to the Court their due Obeisance paid,
Which was no sooner by the Culprits done,
But their infernal Charge was thus begun.
From num'rous Crowds that afar off appear'd,
And Voices crying out, Make room, make room,
For here th'Oppressors of the Wretched come,
Those Gluttons that their own Tun bellies fed,
At the Poor's cost, whose Bowels pin'd for Bread,
Whilst these Sack-bibing Knaves in Taverns lay,
And din'd on Pig and Capon ev'ry day:
Thus on that Charity themselves would feast,
Giv'n by the Rich to succour the Distrest.
As the fat wheezing bulky Tribe drew nigh,
This with the Rabble was the common cry.
At last to th'Bar a near approach they made,
And to the Court their due Obeisance paid,
Which was no sooner by the Culprits done,
But their infernal Charge was thus begun.
These Knaves, my Lord, assembled at the Bar,
That look so bluff, and seem so fat and fair,
Were, upon Earth, appointed to secure
Their Parish Rights, and to subsist the Poor,
By well dispensing to the needy Crew,
What's given, and what's collected as their due,
That what good Christians for their succour spar'd,
Might be amongst the hungry Wretches shar'd.
Instead of this they basely prov'd unjust,
Fill'd their own Bags, and falsifi'd their Trust,
Drown'd half the Parish Charity in Wine,
To fill the Paunches of insatiate Swine:
Could never meet, or Parish-Business do,
Without Canary and a Fowl or two.
Nor terminate one trifling Debate,
Without the Pleasures of a Tavern Treat.
If some poor crasie Alms-man Lame or Sick,
Decreed to starve on Nine-pence for a Week,
Petition'd these proud Masters of the Poor,
To make the scanty Sum but Three pence more,
So many Tavern Consults must be held,
Before they to the Pauper's Suit would yield,
That Pounds in Wine of the Poors Money flew,
E'er the dull Sots determin'd what to do:
At last, perhaps, 'twas gen'rously agreed,
He should have half the Sum to serve his need,
Three half pence Weekly added to his Store,
To keep the Wretch still miserably Poor,
That Want and Sickness, meeting with old Age,
Might hurry his starv'd Carcass off the Stage,
When large Allowance would his Life preserve,
But 'twas their Wishes all the Poor might starve;
For ev'ry one they hasten'd to the Grave,
Themselves, not Parish, did their Pensions save:
Thus on the Poors just Dues they swill'd and fed,
And were their Lords alive, and Heirs when dead.
That look so bluff, and seem so fat and fair,
12
Their Parish Rights, and to subsist the Poor,
By well dispensing to the needy Crew,
What's given, and what's collected as their due,
That what good Christians for their succour spar'd,
Might be amongst the hungry Wretches shar'd.
Instead of this they basely prov'd unjust,
Fill'd their own Bags, and falsifi'd their Trust,
Drown'd half the Parish Charity in Wine,
To fill the Paunches of insatiate Swine:
Could never meet, or Parish-Business do,
Without Canary and a Fowl or two.
Nor terminate one trifling Debate,
Without the Pleasures of a Tavern Treat.
If some poor crasie Alms-man Lame or Sick,
Decreed to starve on Nine-pence for a Week,
Petition'd these proud Masters of the Poor,
To make the scanty Sum but Three pence more,
So many Tavern Consults must be held,
Before they to the Pauper's Suit would yield,
That Pounds in Wine of the Poors Money flew,
E'er the dull Sots determin'd what to do:
At last, perhaps, 'twas gen'rously agreed,
He should have half the Sum to serve his need,
Three half pence Weekly added to his Store,
To keep the Wretch still miserably Poor,
That Want and Sickness, meeting with old Age,
Might hurry his starv'd Carcass off the Stage,
When large Allowance would his Life preserve,
But 'twas their Wishes all the Poor might starve;
13
Themselves, not Parish, did their Pensions save:
Thus on the Poors just Dues they swill'd and fed,
And were their Lords alive, and Heirs when dead.
When Mars and Venus in conjunction were,
And, by their Influence, mov'd some wanton Pair,
To taste Loves Joys, without the Parson's leave,
And mutual Blessings to each other give:
If the kind Lass too forward in her Lust,
Receiv'd the Pleasure with too great a gust,
And in nine Months brought forth a Girl or Boy,
The squawling Fruits of their unlicens'd Joy,
Such a discov'ry prov'd a gainful Matter
To these, the plagues of each poor Fornicator;
Who the kind welcome News no sooner heard,
But the stern Lobcocks in a Gang appear'd,
And with their awful Frowns, and woful Threats,
Frighted the Female Sinner into Fits,
Who, coming to her foolish self again,
Declares the Father, where 'twas got, and when,
How many times she'd sin'd, and what he said,
To coax her to resign her Maidenhead?
Whether the Gem upon a Bed was lost,
Or standing with her Rump against a Post?
Whether her kind Consent was fairly won,
Or if the pleasing Job by force was done?
Whether fair Promises her Heart ensnar'd,
Or Money gain'd admission to her Beard?
What she first thought on't, how she lik'd the Sport?
Whether it pleas'd her well, or if it hurt?
Whether she cry'd, or had a greater Will,
When once engag'd to struggle or lie still?
And whether, when attack'd in Loves surprise,
She open'd not her Legs, but shut her Eyes?
Thus each old bawdy Sot, with ruby Face,
In Gold Twine Buttons, and a Band of Lace,
Would take his turn th'Offender to torment,
With Questions fulsome and impertinent:
Thus listen with a lank lascivious Ear,
To bawdy Secrets answer'd out of fear,
Shameful to tell, and scandalous to hear:
And when they've pump'd the silly Female dry,
To persecute the Father then they fly,
Make use of all the advantage they have gain'd,
By Threats extorted from his Female Friend;
Next to some neighbouring Tavern they adjourn,
From whence the Constables, with Whiskers stern,
Is with his Worships Coram nobis sent
To bring the wanton Knave to Punishment;
The frightful Scrawle with privacy is serv'd,
And all respect to the new Chub observ'd.
Trembling before his Betters then he's led,
Who wait for some Proposals to be made,
With hints of Passages they shame the Youth,
Who wonders how they came by so much Truth;
Not thinking that the Partner in his Play,
Would all the Secrets of their Game betray:
Th'Offender cautious of his good Repute,
Entreats the guzling Catchpoles to be mute;
And that for silence sake he'll gladly close
With any Terms, in season, they'll propose:
They promise him to be his faithful Friends;
Tho' all they aim at is their own bye Ends;
Vow Friendship, Secrecy, and all that's kind,
Till they have charm'd the Bubble to their Mind;
Then tell him 'tis the best and surest way,
That he the Sum of Twenty Pounds shou'd pay;
And the whole Parish they'll take care shall be
A Father to his hopeful Progeny.
The fearful Sinner chearfully complies,
Thinks them most honest, and himself most wise,
Pays down the Sum, and gives a noble Treat,
To have the Infant made some Beggar's Brat.
They share the Booty, to themselves conceal'd,
Thus cheat the Parish and abuse the Child.
These Ills, and more notorious Crimes, my Lord,
In Hell's black Book appear upon Record,
Against these Sots so stuff'd with flowing Bowls,
Their bloated Looks betray their guilty Souls;
Therefore, my Lord, I beg that you'll decree,
Their Pains may equal to their Merit be.
The bulky Cormorants stood al-a-mort,
And pleaded Guilty to the awful Court,
Beg'd hard for Mercy, bowing very low,
But Hell's just Judge would no Compassion show;
Who with stern Looks that did his Pow'r become,
Tuck'd Thumb in Girdle and pronounc'd their Doom.
And, by their Influence, mov'd some wanton Pair,
To taste Loves Joys, without the Parson's leave,
And mutual Blessings to each other give:
If the kind Lass too forward in her Lust,
Receiv'd the Pleasure with too great a gust,
And in nine Months brought forth a Girl or Boy,
The squawling Fruits of their unlicens'd Joy,
Such a discov'ry prov'd a gainful Matter
To these, the plagues of each poor Fornicator;
Who the kind welcome News no sooner heard,
But the stern Lobcocks in a Gang appear'd,
And with their awful Frowns, and woful Threats,
Frighted the Female Sinner into Fits,
Who, coming to her foolish self again,
Declares the Father, where 'twas got, and when,
How many times she'd sin'd, and what he said,
To coax her to resign her Maidenhead?
Whether the Gem upon a Bed was lost,
Or standing with her Rump against a Post?
Whether her kind Consent was fairly won,
Or if the pleasing Job by force was done?
Whether fair Promises her Heart ensnar'd,
Or Money gain'd admission to her Beard?
14
Whether it pleas'd her well, or if it hurt?
Whether she cry'd, or had a greater Will,
When once engag'd to struggle or lie still?
And whether, when attack'd in Loves surprise,
She open'd not her Legs, but shut her Eyes?
Thus each old bawdy Sot, with ruby Face,
In Gold Twine Buttons, and a Band of Lace,
Would take his turn th'Offender to torment,
With Questions fulsome and impertinent:
Thus listen with a lank lascivious Ear,
To bawdy Secrets answer'd out of fear,
Shameful to tell, and scandalous to hear:
And when they've pump'd the silly Female dry,
To persecute the Father then they fly,
Make use of all the advantage they have gain'd,
By Threats extorted from his Female Friend;
Next to some neighbouring Tavern they adjourn,
From whence the Constables, with Whiskers stern,
Is with his Worships Coram nobis sent
To bring the wanton Knave to Punishment;
The frightful Scrawle with privacy is serv'd,
And all respect to the new Chub observ'd.
Trembling before his Betters then he's led,
Who wait for some Proposals to be made,
With hints of Passages they shame the Youth,
Who wonders how they came by so much Truth;
Not thinking that the Partner in his Play,
Would all the Secrets of their Game betray:
15
Entreats the guzling Catchpoles to be mute;
And that for silence sake he'll gladly close
With any Terms, in season, they'll propose:
They promise him to be his faithful Friends;
Tho' all they aim at is their own bye Ends;
Vow Friendship, Secrecy, and all that's kind,
Till they have charm'd the Bubble to their Mind;
Then tell him 'tis the best and surest way,
That he the Sum of Twenty Pounds shou'd pay;
And the whole Parish they'll take care shall be
A Father to his hopeful Progeny.
The fearful Sinner chearfully complies,
Thinks them most honest, and himself most wise,
Pays down the Sum, and gives a noble Treat,
To have the Infant made some Beggar's Brat.
They share the Booty, to themselves conceal'd,
Thus cheat the Parish and abuse the Child.
These Ills, and more notorious Crimes, my Lord,
In Hell's black Book appear upon Record,
Against these Sots so stuff'd with flowing Bowls,
Their bloated Looks betray their guilty Souls;
Therefore, my Lord, I beg that you'll decree,
Their Pains may equal to their Merit be.
The bulky Cormorants stood al-a-mort,
And pleaded Guilty to the awful Court,
Beg'd hard for Mercy, bowing very low,
But Hell's just Judge would no Compassion show;
Who with stern Looks that did his Pow'r become,
Tuck'd Thumb in Girdle and pronounc'd their Doom.
16
It is my final Judgment and Command,
That you Chin-high in mull'd Canary stand,
Longing to drink your fill, but shall not stoop
To bless your thirsty Gullets with a drop:
Fat roasted Fowls, girt round with Sausages,
Your greedy Eyes shall at a distance teaze:
Eternal Thirst and Hunger shall you feel,
Behold good Food, but never make one Meal.
Ten Thousand Hags shall your Tormenters be,
From their curs'd Tongues you shall be never free,
But bear their brawling Jars to all Eternity.
That you Chin-high in mull'd Canary stand,
Longing to drink your fill, but shall not stoop
To bless your thirsty Gullets with a drop:
Fat roasted Fowls, girt round with Sausages,
Your greedy Eyes shall at a distance teaze:
Eternal Thirst and Hunger shall you feel,
Behold good Food, but never make one Meal.
Ten Thousand Hags shall your Tormenters be,
From their curs'd Tongues you shall be never free,
But bear their brawling Jars to all Eternity.
The End of the Third Part.
| A Journey to Hell | |