The Second part of The Nights Search Discovering The Condition of the various Fowles of Night. Or, The second great Mystery of Iniquity exactly revealed: With the Projects of these Times. In a Poem, By Humphrey Mill |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XV. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. | SECT. XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
 | The Second part of The Nights Search |  |
SECT. XIX.
The Night doth quarrell with the Moon,
The Divills feasting comes too soon;
How all was drest, their staying long,
Before they part they have a song.
The Whirlwinds, stench, the furious rent,
Made through the earth, which way they went.
The Divills feasting comes too soon;
How all was drest, their staying long,
Before they part they have a song.
The Whirlwinds, stench, the furious rent,
Made through the earth, which way they went.
Before bright Phebe did begin to steep
Her shining body in the Atlantick deep,
Or entred Latmos Palace, where she us'd
To sleep with her Endymion; or refus'd
To chuse her whiter bindes, her clearer eye
Look't through the sarsnet vail, and did discry
The folly of the Goddesse Night, who did
Defend the fowls of prey, she'd have them hid.
And spits ill language at the Moon, and looks
Black in the face with pride. Her secret books
Are seald with pitch, as black as her aparrell;
Her rage breaks out; thus she begins to quarrell
Her shining body in the Atlantick deep,
101
To sleep with her Endymion; or refus'd
To chuse her whiter bindes, her clearer eye
Look't through the sarsnet vail, and did discry
The folly of the Goddesse Night, who did
Defend the fowls of prey, she'd have them hid.
And spits ill language at the Moon, and looks
Black in the face with pride. Her secret books
Are seald with pitch, as black as her aparrell;
Her rage breaks out; thus she begins to quarrell
Thou upstart, to Antiquitie a Fo.
I am no light huswife; but Ile prove thee so.
Go, go, thou Changeling, vex me not: must I
Be subject to thy Check? must thy fond eye
Be made the overseer of my trade,
That had my birth before the World was made,
And rul'd alone? and but for thee still might,
I change not colour: for my nam's black night.
I can do nothing private, now, but you
Must ride above in state, and take a view.
Of all my plots, as other Round-heads do,
Sometimes yo' are like a Round-head slit in two:
Sometimes yo'are drest with horns upon your head,
Coming from Sols or from Endymions bed,
Yo'are big with childe; & looking pale yo'are shamd;
Being loth to have it known, or have it nam'd,
You travell in the sea: and then you smother
The babe ('tis thought) least he should peach the mother
That must be call'd a virgin, you in rage
Turn men to beasts, and make an hour an Age,
Bald time Eternall. As your humours swell,
The Seas must ebb and flow; if I should tell
All that I know, 'twould keep you from the Feast,
Drive down your Charret, quickly, to the West.
I am no light huswife; but Ile prove thee so.
Go, go, thou Changeling, vex me not: must I
Be subject to thy Check? must thy fond eye
Be made the overseer of my trade,
That had my birth before the World was made,
And rul'd alone? and but for thee still might,
I change not colour: for my nam's black night.
I can do nothing private, now, but you
Must ride above in state, and take a view.
Of all my plots, as other Round-heads do,
Sometimes yo' are like a Round-head slit in two:
Sometimes yo'are drest with horns upon your head,
Coming from Sols or from Endymions bed,
Yo'are big with childe; & looking pale yo'are shamd;
Being loth to have it known, or have it nam'd,
You travell in the sea: and then you smother
The babe ('tis thought) least he should peach the mother
That must be call'd a virgin, you in rage
Turn men to beasts, and make an hour an Age,
118
The Seas must ebb and flow; if I should tell
All that I know, 'twould keep you from the Feast,
Drive down your Charret, quickly, to the West.
She blushing glanc't away. And now the cheer
Is making ready, that must cost so deare.
Here are no Sheriffs, nor hinch Boyes, nor no Maior,
Nor no Church-warden, nor none seeming faire.
Forbidding Johnson's guests, both all, and some,
Except the Jaylor, and the Sergeant come.
Those that are hard and season'd in their evill,
Will make the fittest Messes for the Devill.
Nor did the time agree; for 'twas at Noone,
And this by night, who rai'ld away the Moone.
Is making ready, that must cost so deare.
Here are no Sheriffs, nor hinch Boyes, nor no Maior,
Nor no Church-warden, nor none seeming faire.
Forbidding Johnson's guests, both all, and some,
Except the Jaylor, and the Sergeant come.
Those that are hard and season'd in their evill,
Will make the fittest Messes for the Devill.
Nor did the time agree; for 'twas at Noone,
And this by night, who rai'ld away the Moone.
The Divell being invited by a sinner,
H'ad rather come to supper then to dinner:
For then his work is done Nor did his haste
Shew any stomack, he but came to taste.
And here he came unlook't for. Heare the cryes;
He came but thither Choach't, but here he flies.
He was invited by the Cook, and had
His man to dresse his Meat; but good, or bad,
He do's it here himselfe. The place is fit:
A vault, where soules do sink for want of wit.
H'ad rather come to supper then to dinner:
For then his work is done Nor did his haste
Shew any stomack, he but came to taste.
And here he came unlook't for. Heare the cryes;
He came but thither Choach't, but here he flies.
He was invited by the Cook, and had
His man to dresse his Meat; but good, or bad,
He do's it here himselfe. The place is fit:
A vault, where soules do sink for want of wit.
What hideous noyse is this? what brimston smell?
What sparkling flames are these? their'e guests from Hell,
In severall postures. Dreadfull stormes arise,
Which dumbs the tongue, and deaffes the eares, the eyes
Are dipossest. Strange feares possesse the hearts,
With dreadfull horrour in the inward parts.
What sparkling flames are these? their'e guests from Hell,
In severall postures. Dreadfull stormes arise,
Which dumbs the tongue, and deaffes the eares, the eyes
Are dipossest. Strange feares possesse the hearts,
With dreadfull horrour in the inward parts.
119
Of all the former Feasters, none can hold
For furious burning; yet they shake with cold.
The Prince of darknesse, seizeth on his prey,
Divides the spoyles, and peece-meale he doth lay
His choicest bits in order: some he boyl'd,
And made him broth, and other some he broil'd.
The bawd he stew'd, because she was so tough.
The common Trull, before sh'was boyl'd enough
He snapt her up; because his stomack ak't:
The haxter and his litter, hardly bak't,
Was chop't in after: rotten roasted Pimp
Was swallowed in; and next the parboil'd Imp;
From whom he gravie squeis'd: which scall'd his tongue;
The Pander lying at the fire long
Was dry'd away: whereat the Divell vext;
And swore by Hell, what ere he met with next
He'd make no bones on't. With his griping claw
He tore the Cutpurse, and he eats him raw.
For furious burning; yet they shake with cold.
The Prince of darknesse, seizeth on his prey,
Divides the spoyles, and peece-meale he doth lay
His choicest bits in order: some he boyl'd,
And made him broth, and other some he broil'd.
The bawd he stew'd, because she was so tough.
The common Trull, before sh'was boyl'd enough
He snapt her up; because his stomack ak't:
The haxter and his litter, hardly bak't,
Was chop't in after: rotten roasted Pimp
Was swallowed in; and next the parboil'd Imp;
From whom he gravie squeis'd: which scall'd his tongue;
The Pander lying at the fire long
Was dry'd away: whereat the Divell vext;
And swore by Hell, what ere he met with next
He'd make no bones on't. With his griping claw
He tore the Cutpurse, and he eats him raw.
A bone (being greedie) in his stomack sticks:
And he perceiving, that the bloody flix
Was like to take him; boyl'd into a Jelly
The Prodigall, to ease his rumbling bellie.
To stay the flux, the gull was neatly fry'd;
The letcher gum'd, being finely cut and dry'd,
Was whift away in smoak: the smoking Cell
Is found on Earth; 'twas us'd to be in Hell.
The Officer escap't, this once, ('twas late)
For he may turne Informer to the State,
And find out such Delinquents. If he can
Ile have him put in Print, a gallant man!
But this unwelcome guest, grown full, he groans,
To broil the marrow out, he burnt the bones.
His train must eat the scraps, though he begins;
The sawce was all brains, livers, hearts, and sins.
Their drink was bloud, but from the buttrie hatch
A little divill sprung, who sings a Catch.
And he perceiving, that the bloody flix
Was like to take him; boyl'd into a Jelly
The Prodigall, to ease his rumbling bellie.
To stay the flux, the gull was neatly fry'd;
The letcher gum'd, being finely cut and dry'd,
Was whift away in smoak: the smoking Cell
Is found on Earth; 'twas us'd to be in Hell.
The Officer escap't, this once, ('twas late)
For he may turne Informer to the State,
And find out such Delinquents. If he can
Ile have him put in Print, a gallant man!
104
To broil the marrow out, he burnt the bones.
His train must eat the scraps, though he begins;
The sawce was all brains, livers, hearts, and sins.
Their drink was bloud, but from the buttrie hatch
A little divill sprung, who sings a Catch.
Never were Angels entertaind
As we have bin, to swell with mirth:
Wee'le break the Gaole where we were chaind
To lick up the hony and Cream of the earth.
with hay down down, &c.
As we have bin, to swell with mirth:
Wee'le break the Gaole where we were chaind
To lick up the hony and Cream of the earth.
with hay down down, &c.
This Castle, and the fare we found
Have pleas'd our princely humors well,
Lust leavens blood, theft tears the ground,
To make us free trading 'twixt earthworms and hell.
with hay down, &c.
Have pleas'd our princely humors well,
Lust leavens blood, theft tears the ground,
To make us free trading 'twixt earthworms and hell.
with hay down, &c.
The scandalous priest, that lives at ease
Who studies earth, and sucks her store,
His state he spends his lusts to please,
And a hundred a year to furnish his whore.
with hay down, &c.
Who studies earth, and sucks her store,
His state he spends his lusts to please,
And a hundred a year to furnish his whore.
with hay down, &c.
I like the cunning cutpurse Jade,
That beareth twins of sin; if she
Be question'd for her theiving trade,
She'l swear he'd have ravisht her, or twas her fee
with hay down, &c.
That beareth twins of sin; if she
Be question'd for her theiving trade,
She'l swear he'd have ravisht her, or twas her fee
with hay down, &c.
105
That gallant wench that lies at stake,
To seize a prey, her Pimp made bold,
Must quarrell with him, for her sake,
She'l hug him, to save him, then pilfer his gold
with hay down, &c.
To seize a prey, her Pimp made bold,
Must quarrell with him, for her sake,
She'l hug him, to save him, then pilfer his gold
with hay down, &c.
Our noble freind that keeps his Pincks,
Steals, pawns, and sells by common vote;
And if his wife with sorrow sinks,
He'l starve her, or kick her, or els cut her throat,
with hay down, &c.
Steals, pawns, and sells by common vote;
And if his wife with sorrow sinks,
He'l starve her, or kick her, or els cut her throat,
with hay down, &c.
Take pleasure, fear not sin, nor shame,
You babes of Night, flye from despair:
Joy, wealth, and praise, shall guard his name,
Who honors Diabilo prince of the Aire.
with hay down, &c.
You babes of Night, flye from despair:
Joy, wealth, and praise, shall guard his name,
Who honors Diabilo prince of the Aire.
with hay down, &c.
Then having finisht all; a whirlwind rose;
The hel-bred furies did begin to close
Divisions ranks, and files, and with a wound,
They forc'd a passage through the trembling ground:
But left a blaste behind, resolves the doubts,
That you'd beleeve that hell lies thereabouts.
The hel-bred furies did begin to close
Divisions ranks, and files, and with a wound,
They forc'd a passage through the trembling ground:
But left a blaste behind, resolves the doubts,
That you'd beleeve that hell lies thereabouts.
Are sinners torment proof, that they do take
Delight in their undoing? who can make
The angrie Heavens smile? or gaping hell
Take bribes for souls, when lusts like Seas do swell
Beyond all bounds? where furious winds do cast
Those stragling torments, till they run their last:
Which thirsty earth drinks up, or angry time,
For their assault converts them into slime.
Delight in their undoing? who can make
The angrie Heavens smile? or gaping hell
Take bribes for souls, when lusts like Seas do swell
Beyond all bounds? where furious winds do cast
Those stragling torments, till they run their last:
122
For their assault converts them into slime.
So Mortalls do, passe reasons rules, and please
Their sences, till a writ of little ease
Be sent from heaven, then their heart misgives,
Whose mirth one day, whose torment ever lives.
Earth drinks their joyes alive: and hell receives
The slime at last, the trees, the fruit, and leaves.
Are fit for fire, or like the fox, whose prey
Is stole at night, but eaten in the day.
Their sences, till a writ of little ease
Be sent from heaven, then their heart misgives,
Whose mirth one day, whose torment ever lives.
Earth drinks their joyes alive: and hell receives
The slime at last, the trees, the fruit, and leaves.
Are fit for fire, or like the fox, whose prey
Is stole at night, but eaten in the day.
This theife is so gentle he makes his den
A Poultrers shop. A Rabbit, and a hen
Lye by his side: and at his back a goose;
So thrives a while, at last the doggs get loose,
And catch the craftie fox, his flesh is tore,
His plots are are spoyl'd: his Cribidge stole before,
Now stinks for want of eating, Ah! me thinks,
Here's meate, sharp sauce, and yet my subject stinks,
For want of seasoning, being peece-meal cut,
Into the Divells Lardar they are put.
Who plaies the Caniball: and still he strives
With black reproach to crown their dying lives.
A Poultrers shop. A Rabbit, and a hen
Lye by his side: and at his back a goose;
So thrives a while, at last the doggs get loose,
And catch the craftie fox, his flesh is tore,
His plots are are spoyl'd: his Cribidge stole before,
Now stinks for want of eating, Ah! me thinks,
Here's meate, sharp sauce, and yet my subject stinks,
For want of seasoning, being peece-meal cut,
Into the Divells Lardar they are put.
Who plaies the Caniball: and still he strives
With black reproach to crown their dying lives.
| The Second part of The Nights Search | |