Canidia, or the Witches A Rhapsody. In Five Parts |
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 | Canidia, or the Witches |  |
59
CANTO XII.
'Tis commonly objected, we are Old
And Doting; but most Bold.
An Old Body is not so Clever;
But an Old Soul's brisker than ever.
Wiser and more Gallant Notions;
Nobler, and more Stately Motions.
A Young Conscience will stare,
When she is bid to Curse and Swear.
And Doting; but most Bold.
An Old Body is not so Clever;
But an Old Soul's brisker than ever.
Wiser and more Gallant Notions;
Nobler, and more Stately Motions.
A Young Conscience will stare,
When she is bid to Curse and Swear.
A puling Novice whivels and pines,
To take extraordinary Fines;
But an old Conscience is Tough,
And never thinks she wrongs enough.
So I be rich, I care no more,
Though Ten thousand be poor.
Call me wicked Rogue and Knave,
So I get the Mony and go brave.
To take extraordinary Fines;
But an old Conscience is Tough,
And never thinks she wrongs enough.
So I be rich, I care no more,
Though Ten thousand be poor.
Call me wicked Rogue and Knave,
So I get the Mony and go brave.
Let me purchase stately Mansions,
And in them I dance my Stancheons.
The Honest man skips at a Crust,
And is glad to go a Trust.
I never so much as think
Of them, that want Meat and Drink.
Let all perish by Destiny,
As long as the World goes well with me.
And in them I dance my Stancheons.
The Honest man skips at a Crust,
And is glad to go a Trust.
I never so much as think
Of them, that want Meat and Drink.
Let all perish by Destiny,
As long as the World goes well with me.
But they methinks are very bold,
That say, Hang Witches 'cause they're old.
Of this I make a stout Denial,
And put my self upon my Trial.
We know by Experience what's best,
And what's the Truth of all the rest.
Of all Knaves, give me the Old Tost,
She's fittest to rule the Rost.
That say, Hang Witches 'cause they're old.
Of this I make a stout Denial,
And put my self upon my Trial.
60
And what's the Truth of all the rest.
Of all Knaves, give me the Old Tost,
She's fittest to rule the Rost.
An old Beldam, forsooth,
Without a Nose, without a Tooth.
As for her ungodly Tongue,
We know 'tis evermore well hung.
As for her Brain, she shall contrive
All the Mischief alive.
A young Knave's but a Fool at best,
An old Knave's wiser than the rest:
And therefore we for our Ages,
Are most justly styled Sages.
Without a Nose, without a Tooth.
As for her ungodly Tongue,
We know 'tis evermore well hung.
As for her Brain, she shall contrive
All the Mischief alive.
A young Knave's but a Fool at best,
An old Knave's wiser than the rest:
And therefore we for our Ages,
Are most justly styled Sages.
We know all the Tricks, and where to find 'um,
And every way to turn and wind 'um.
A young Rogue will Whine and Think;
But an old Rogue scorns to shrink.
A Novice will make Rogues Faces;
But an old Boy fears no Disgraces.
Experience of Actions,
Fits for all kind of Factions.
And every way to turn and wind 'um.
A young Rogue will Whine and Think;
But an old Rogue scorns to shrink.
A Novice will make Rogues Faces;
But an old Boy fears no Disgraces.
Experience of Actions,
Fits for all kind of Factions.
A young Rogue acts, and his Hand shakes;
But an old Villains Heart ne're quakes.
A young Rogue acts and Trembles;
But an old Rogue boldly Dissembles.
If he be but Rich and Great,
You shall never make him Sweat.
Hang those tender Concience Slaves,
Give us the Virtuoso Knaves.
But an old Villains Heart ne're quakes.
A young Rogue acts and Trembles;
But an old Rogue boldly Dissembles.
If he be but Rich and Great,
You shall never make him Sweat.
Hang those tender Concience Slaves,
Give us the Virtuoso Knaves.
61
Give me the Conscience that can stretch,
At command, Carry and Fetch:
This sutes most neat and fine,
In an Old Lawyer, or Divine.
A Courtier is a pretty Thing,
And most proper to cheat a King.
As for Masons, Silk-men, Taylors,
Send 'um packing to the Goalors.
At command, Carry and Fetch:
This sutes most neat and fine,
In an Old Lawyer, or Divine.
A Courtier is a pretty Thing,
And most proper to cheat a King.
As for Masons, Silk-men, Taylors,
Send 'um packing to the Goalors.
Merchants, Tradesmen are whist.
But as true Cheats as ever Pist.
A Souldier is a mad Shaver,
Scorns to be tied to his good Behaviour;
As for every petty Shirk,
Let Pick-pockets set 'um a work,
And the Constable give them the Jirk,
And the Hangman give 'um a Firk.
But as true Cheats as ever Pist.
A Souldier is a mad Shaver,
Scorns to be tied to his good Behaviour;
As for every petty Shirk,
Let Pick-pockets set 'um a work,
And the Constable give them the Jirk,
And the Hangman give 'um a Firk.
We can dance Moll Dixons Round,
We can play Doll Commons Ground.
Come along, Women and Men,
Here's dainty Content, and your Mony agen.
'Tis a merry World, where we be,
At the Islands of Charybbe,
St. Christophers, Barbados,
Rio de Gamba, and de la Platas.
We can play Doll Commons Ground.
Come along, Women and Men,
Here's dainty Content, and your Mony agen.
'Tis a merry World, where we be,
At the Islands of Charybbe,
St. Christophers, Barbados,
Rio de Gamba, and de la Platas.
We tune our Viols, Lyra and all Fancy-way,
Fit for every sport and play.
We joyn in Consort with the Spheres,
Make 'um Sing, or Soll'um by the Ears.
Charm Moon and Stars out of their Forms,
To drop down in Gelly Gums;
Scatter 'um about like Plums.
Fit for every sport and play.
We joyn in Consort with the Spheres,
Make 'um Sing, or Soll'um by the Ears.
Charm Moon and Stars out of their Forms,
To drop down in Gelly Gums;
Scatter 'um about like Plums.
62
Rip up the Ass, by Senates Doom
Accused falsly, by his Groom,
In an Eclipse to have drank up the Moon.
Thus the Master he must Lie for't,
And the poor simple Servant dye for't.
Accused falsly, by his Groom,
In an Eclipse to have drank up the Moon.
Thus the Master he must Lie for't,
And the poor simple Servant dye for't.
How these Hectors, Fools and Fops,
Load their Backs, and cram their Crops.
Clog'd with Sawces, Soakt with Wine,
Nothing but Miss and Concubine;
Nothing but Sack, Eggs, and Muscadine.
Gentlemen-Ushers, Mushrom-Shrimps,
Catamits, Sodomites, Bawds and Pimps.
Load their Backs, and cram their Crops.
Clog'd with Sawces, Soakt with Wine,
Nothing but Miss and Concubine;
Nothing but Sack, Eggs, and Muscadine.
Gentlemen-Ushers, Mushrom-Shrimps,
Catamits, Sodomites, Bawds and Pimps.
A Rogue with never an Eye in's head,
To a fair Venus crawls to bed;
Fitter to hang, or knock of the head.
These prosperous Villains I grutch,
I ever thought they thriv'd too much.
'Twas always so; for what says Pluck,
The more Fool, the better Luck.
To a fair Venus crawls to bed;
Fitter to hang, or knock of the head.
These prosperous Villains I grutch,
I ever thought they thriv'd too much.
'Twas always so; for what says Pluck,
The more Fool, the better Luck.
O Stallions, ye deserve Correption,
That Cover Mares after Conception.
After-Births, Moon-Calves, Secundines,
Menstrua's, no Bar your Lust confines.
Give the Lawyers large Fees,
For invading prohibited Degrees:
No Sex or Age stops your filthy Lees,
Ye deserve to be stung to death by Been
That Cover Mares after Conception.
After-Births, Moon-Calves, Secundines,
Menstrua's, no Bar your Lust confines.
Give the Lawyers large Fees,
For invading prohibited Degrees:
No Sex or Age stops your filthy Lees,
Ye deserve to be stung to death by Been
What was Merlin the Welsh Bard?
No Devils can your Lust retard.
Monkies, Baboons, and Apes,
Too foully feel your Monstrous Rapes.
Ladies of Pleasure, too oft let me tell you,
You meet with a Satyr, or a Robbin-good-Fellow.
And you Rogues, are you not asham'd
For Mixtures, not to be nam'd?
No Devils can your Lust retard.
Monkies, Baboons, and Apes,
Too foully feel your Monstrous Rapes.
63
You meet with a Satyr, or a Robbin-good-Fellow.
And you Rogues, are you not asham'd
For Mixtures, not to be nam'd?
But as for our Carnal Coitions,
We admit of no Conditions.
All Sexes, Degrees and Kinds,
Cannot limit our lustful Minds.
Beside, the Rareness of our Merits
Advanceth us to mix with Spirits.
So we become a special Brood,
Distinct from the rest of Womanhood.
We admit of no Conditions.
All Sexes, Degrees and Kinds,
Cannot limit our lustful Minds.
Beside, the Rareness of our Merits
Advanceth us to mix with Spirits.
So we become a special Brood,
Distinct from the rest of Womanhood.
Which makes our Actions to Savour,
Of a far different Behavour.
Partly Mortals, partly Devils,
Our Nature fits us for higher Evils.
So we are us'd for all Intents
Of Mischiefs, the best Instruments.
A mixt Blood runs in our Veins,
Mongrels appear in different Strains.
A sort of mad confounded Witchery.
Compounded of Haggery, Doggery and Bitchery.
Of a far different Behavour.
Partly Mortals, partly Devils,
Our Nature fits us for higher Evils.
So we are us'd for all Intents
Of Mischiefs, the best Instruments.
A mixt Blood runs in our Veins,
Mongrels appear in different Strains.
A sort of mad confounded Witchery.
Compounded of Haggery, Doggery and Bitchery.
Still we deserve the greatest Fames,
Under Priests, Magi, and Augurs Names.
They had the Honours and Degrees;
We did the work, they take the Fees.
This Nature and this Are I have imbib'd,
And have accordingly describ'd.
Teach one, you that know more
Than I do, of Witch and Whore.
The Rarest Mystery I here Exhibit;
For which I may deserve the Gibbet.
Under Priests, Magi, and Augurs Names.
They had the Honours and Degrees;
We did the work, they take the Fees.
This Nature and this Are I have imbib'd,
And have accordingly describ'd.
Teach one, you that know more
Than I do, of Witch and Whore.
The Rarest Mystery I here Exhibit;
For which I may deserve the Gibbet.
64
Now for us, Make room, make room,
Open every stinking Tomb:
These are our Chambers of Delights.
Where we revel and roar whole Nights.
Give us a Crony and a Tony,
A Parson, and an old Vulpone.
Honest Trouts will ne're forsake us,
We'l be as merry as Cup or Kan can make us.
Open every stinking Tomb:
These are our Chambers of Delights.
Where we revel and roar whole Nights.
Give us a Crony and a Tony,
A Parson, and an old Vulpone.
Honest Trouts will ne're forsake us,
We'l be as merry as Cup or Kan can make us.
The Shepherd-Swain quotes Erra Pater,
An old Monthly Prognosticator:
Tycho Brache, a great Undertaker,
Little more than an Almanack-Maker.
Southsayers and Astrologers of the East,
Pitiful Conjurers at best.
A certain sort of Snipper-snappers,
Hight Spirits or Kidnappers.
An old Monthly Prognosticator:
Tycho Brache, a great Undertaker,
Little more than an Almanack-Maker.
Southsayers and Astrologers of the East,
Pitiful Conjurers at best.
A certain sort of Snipper-snappers,
Hight Spirits or Kidnappers.
Apollo with his Drinks and Playsters,
Us'd to cure Country Disasters:
With golden Pills, Syrups, and Clysters,
He practis'd on his dainty Mistress;
And when he lackt a new Wife,
Vomited the old One out of Life.
He was a Common Fidler, and the Trades
His Muses drove, was Chamber-Maids.
Æsculape, the Arcadian Ass,
A perfect Tooth-drawer was:
And for Venus we need no Trumpet,
In Cyprus she was a Common Strumpet.
Us'd to cure Country Disasters:
With golden Pills, Syrups, and Clysters,
He practis'd on his dainty Mistress;
And when he lackt a new Wife,
Vomited the old One out of Life.
He was a Common Fidler, and the Trades
His Muses drove, was Chamber-Maids.
Æsculape, the Arcadian Ass,
A perfect Tooth-drawer was:
And for Venus we need no Trumpet,
In Cyprus she was a Common Strumpet.
These, and such like Remainders,
Have constantly been our Retainers;
Because we scorned to impart
To such, the Secrets of our Art.
A kind of Slovenly Operators,
Skullion drudging Laborators.
All such Mongrels, we declare 'um
Pro Vanitate Scientiarum.
The same were those that Writ before 'um,
Till we were Professors of the Quorum.
Have constantly been our Retainers;
Because we scorned to impart
To such, the Secrets of our Art.
65
Skullion drudging Laborators.
All such Mongrels, we declare 'um
Pro Vanitate Scientiarum.
The same were those that Writ before 'um,
Till we were Professors of the Quorum.
'Tis we do those powerful Wonders,
By terrible Lightnings and Thunders,
Are not these Real harms,
That come to pass with Winds and Storms;
By Fire and Water, Sea and Land,
Which Evil Spirits do command?
Besides, Spells and Incantations,
Creating strange Infatuations.
By the Ear and by the Eye,
Demonstrations none can deny.
By terrible Lightnings and Thunders,
Are not these Real harms,
That come to pass with Winds and Storms;
By Fire and Water, Sea and Land,
Which Evil Spirits do command?
Besides, Spells and Incantations,
Creating strange Infatuations.
By the Ear and by the Eye,
Demonstrations none can deny.
Yet these are counted Idle Stories,
Invented by deluding Tories:
But as to Legends of Lead,
Concerning Wonders by the Dead.
By Bones, and Clouts, and old Shun,
What Miracles have been done?
These must all be believ'd for true,
Or else ye don't give the Saints their due.
Invented by deluding Tories:
But as to Legends of Lead,
Concerning Wonders by the Dead.
By Bones, and Clouts, and old Shun,
What Miracles have been done?
These must all be believ'd for true,
Or else ye don't give the Saints their due.
These are the Witchcrafts of Friars,
Those covetous, sanctified Liars.
Because they are such Self-denyers;
But we are put upon our Tryars.
They are admired and rewarded;
But we are nothing at all regarded.
Take us by our ugly Chops,
And truss us up, as fast as Hops.
Those covetous, sanctified Liars.
Because they are such Self-denyers;
But we are put upon our Tryars.
They are admired and rewarded;
But we are nothing at all regarded.
Take us by our ugly Chops,
And truss us up, as fast as Hops.
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But that for pleasure of Revenge,
And to bring about our Ends;
Who'd be a Witch? But we're delighted,
And do most harm where we are most spighted.
He that fain would be quiet,
Tell him, We utterly deny it,
We'l vex and plague him till he dye,
And haunt his Ghost to Eternity:
For all that are of our Temper,
Are implacable Semper.
And to bring about our Ends;
Who'd be a Witch? But we're delighted,
And do most harm where we are most spighted.
He that fain would be quiet,
Tell him, We utterly deny it,
We'l vex and plague him till he dye,
And haunt his Ghost to Eternity:
For all that are of our Temper,
Are implacable Semper.
Keep off, you that hurt us and jeer us;
If ye wont love, we'l make ye fear us.
Shut up your Horses and your Kine,
Look to your Beer, Ale, Corn and Wine.
We'l make mad work, if you take not heed,
Destroy you, and all your Breed.
If ye wont love, we'l make ye fear us.
Shut up your Horses and your Kine,
Look to your Beer, Ale, Corn and Wine.
We'l make mad work, if you take not heed,
Destroy you, and all your Breed.
Our very Mice and Rats shall tear you,
All our Cocks and Hens shall scare you.
You shall Swear they are all Sprites.
To torment you Days and Nights.
Each Lowce of ours, that makes us itch,
Is qualified for a Witch:
And all the Fleas that suck our Blood,
Were never counted very good.
All our Cocks and Hens shall scare you.
You shall Swear they are all Sprites.
To torment you Days and Nights.
Each Lowce of ours, that makes us itch,
Is qualified for a Witch:
And all the Fleas that suck our Blood,
Were never counted very good.
Yea, our very Dogs and Cats,
Are no better than Hellish Brats
Every Rat or hungry Mouse,
That chances to forsake our House,
Bewitches all the Vermin nigh;
So Broods of Imps come to multiply.
Without fail, every Man or Maid
We keep, must needs be of our Trade.
Are no better than Hellish Brats
Every Rat or hungry Mouse,
That chances to forsake our House,
Bewitches all the Vermin nigh;
So Broods of Imps come to multiply.
Without fail, every Man or Maid
We keep, must needs be of our Trade.
| Canidia, or the Witches | |