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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.

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1.

I. Dialogue, Between a Thatcher and a Gardener, for Precedency, on occasion of a Pot of Ale with this Inscription; Detur Digniori.

2.

The Second Dialogue, Between the Herring, and Whale.

3.

The Third Dialogue, Between Chamber-pot and Frying Pan.

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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142

The Third Dialogue, Between Chamber-pot and Frying Pan.

Chamber-pot.
Stand off! nor with rude Smut disgrace

Hence take notice, to the Honour of the Poet, 'twas a Pewter Chamber-pot, and to the Honour of the Maid, 'twas newly scoured.

The Glories of my brighter face!

Frying-pan.
Tho not so glib my Face be seen,
Yet all I'me sure's as sweet within.

Chamber-pot.
You in the Kitchin drudge alone,
None handles you but greasie Joan!

Frying-pan.
I always lend, but you receive;
Which is most brave, to take, or give?

Chamber-pot.
Oft Maid and Mistriss fetch me out,
To wash their their Lilly-hand and Snowt.

Frying-pan.
You're civil sure, and use I hope
With Water to allow 'em Soap.

143

Chamber-pot.
Yes, such as ne're, at worst, indures
To scowre so foul a Mouth as yours.

Frying-pan.
O what a fragrant Hogo rose
But now, to twinge a swounding Nose?

Chamber-pot.
Such as when you were made a Tool,

A known story of a Lords Cook and Fool.

To Fry the Break-fast for the Fool.

Frying-pan.
All bulg'd and yellow you must fall
At last behind some ruin'd Wall;
Or melt, and to your Masters loss
Leave both at once your stink and dross.

Chamber-pot.
Take then, since me you'll thus Incense,
These marks of my Benevolence:
Such Water as if Fame says true,
Diana on Acteon threw;
Which as some learned men surmize,
With flap of Fox put out his Eyes:
And least of Rary show he brag,

Diana, on his viewing her Dimensions, and the rest of her Virgins, as naked as ever they were born, sprinkled him with some of her own Holywater, and turn'd him into a Stag.

Bewitcht poor Hunter into Stag.