The London-Spy Compleat In Eighteen Parts :: :: University of Virginia Library

Letters in Prose my Friend are Common,
As Pride in Priest, or Lust in Woman.
Our Annual Curse of long Vacation,
To Bus'ness giving a Cessation,
Affords me time to thus Salute-ye,
And pay in Rhime this Friendly Duty.

224

Not rightly knowing which is worse,
The Lawyers or the Poets Curse,
Both Silenc'd with an Empty Purse.
For now our Pens, upon our Words,
Are grown as useless as your Swords;
We having but as little Writing,
As, God be thanked, you have Fighting.
You may draw Sword, so we may Pen,
To show our Tools of War, and then,
Like Fools, e'en put 'em up again.

But what a Pox is't I am doing?
Or where the Devil am I going?
Now Pegasus I've once bestriden,
Methinks I Gallop like a D---n:
And pleas'd I am in the Vein, Egad,
Blunder out Verse like any Mad.
Long as 'tis Rhime its no great matter,
And Bombast, whether Praise or Satyr.
Mistake me not, and think I've Writ
To show my Parts, that is not it;
I'd not be Envy'd for a Wit.

For he that's Rich in Thought, is sure
To be in Friends and Pocket Poor;
For Wisemen will not care to serve him:
And Fools would all be glad to starve him.
Wit carr's an Edge, few can abide-it,
And he that has it ought to hide-it.
Such Weapons in a Mans Possession,
Scare the Unarm'd from's Conversation;
And is so far from b'ing Delightful,
It renders him that Draws it, Frightful:
For no Man cares for th'Company,
Of him that has more Wit than be:
Nor can he with good Will afford,
The better Genius one Good Word.

225

So Dowdy's will no Praise allow
To her that has the Lovely Brow;
But will endeavour to Confute-ye,
She has more Faults by half than Beauty.
To Wits 'tis Fear that makes us Civil,
Just as an Indian is to th'Devil.

This Ignis Fatuus in my Brains,
That kindles up these Rambling Strains,
Makes my Head light as any Feather,
And leads me wand'ring God knows whither.
But Poets, when we make Digression,
The Fault we supple by Confession;
And so Excuse the wild Transgression.

I only meant to let you know
I'm Well, and hope that you are so,
With all the Merry Knaves o'th Pack,
Who Love the Fair, the Brown, the Black:
And rather than submit to Marry,
Fly still at Whore, as Hawk at Quarry.

Pray tell me how Lieutenant A---
Maintains his Vice with half his Pay:
Who has, I hope by Good Direction,
Repair'd his Rudder of Affection;
And gain'd his Natural Complexion.
I fear it prov'd a Scurvy Jobb,
Bid him Beware lest t'other Rub,
Shou'd bring him to the Powd'ring Tub.

I want to know if Captain Blunder,
Is still the Country Wenches wonder;
And he shifts for Copulation,
To oblige his Lustful Inclination.
I fear his Tail's so much his Master,
'T has brought him under some Disaster:

226

For Bolus, Pills, and Sal-Prunel,
(In which Repenting Sinners deal)
Were sent among ye by Jack Staily,
To quench those burning Pains that ail ye;
Which have possest, I plainly see,
Some Label of Mortality.

But hold! What is it I am doing?
I must not here appear too knowing;
Lest you Arch Wags should turn the Satyr,
And say, I'm Skilful in the matter.

But now, dear Friend, I change my Strain,
And grieve to think weak Man so vain,
That Resolutions made of Late,
Against a Matrimonial State,
Should not defend you from the Curse
Of Fools, for better or for Worse.
Prithee now tell what means this Riddle,
That you should be so Fond and Idle,
T'eclipse the Freedom of your Life,
With that dull Mournful Clog, a Wife?
What if she's Youthful, Rich, and Fair,
And Vertuous too, she's still a Care?
These are but Chains to bind thee faster,
And make Mans Plague the more his Master.
Since Married, I account Thee one
Who the best Threds of's Life has Spun;
And now his Misery's just begun.

But use this Caution thro' thy Life,
Slave not thy self to please a Wife,
Lest thro' o'er Fondness thou dost prove
A meer Anatomy of Love.

227

But since the Earthen Vessel, Man,
Whose Life's compris'd within a Span,
Is by his Nature Weak and Vain;
I must excuse your Over-sight,
Committed 'gainst your Reason's Light:
And since you're Catch'd in Loves Decoy,
I'll wish you, like the rest, much Joy:
Hoping your Choice has prov'd so Good,
That she's as Chast as you are Lewd;
And then she could not be with-stood.

You know, my Friend, what can't be Cur'd,
It's said of Old, must be Endur'd:
Since that's your Case, I'll so Be-Friend you,
As wish all Happiness Attend-you.

May she prove Just (I hope she's Fair)
Calm, Kind, and Good, as Angels are;
And may her sweeter Charms produce,
(When sprinkled with your Balmy Juice)
A Noble Fruit of Glorious use.

May your whole Lives be Harmonie;
Mutual your Loves, from Troubles Free;
And Dutiful your Progenie.

May she so Live, that all her Joys
May prove her Merit, not her Choice:
And to compleat that Happiness
I truly Wish you to Possess,
To your Fair Bride may you prove True,
And Good to her, as she to you.

My Friend, with Gladness do I hear
You find your Spirits much too clear
For Fens, and its Gross Foggie Air.

228

That you intend, within a while,
To Bless your own dear Native Soil;
And leave that Poisonous Croaking Isle
To Frogs, and Toades, Snakes, Ev'ts and Ants,
Its Native foul Inhabioants.
But e'er you come, take Care, and See
You send me a Retaining Fee
In Cordial Nants, or some such Liquor,
To move my Spirits round the Quicker.

For Man's but Heaven's Water-Mill,
In motion kept by th'Glass or Jill;
And wanting Liquor must stand still.
Don't thro Oblivion, now Neglect it,
For I assure you I expect it.

This being in Rhime my first Essay,
I've Jingled on a wondrous Way:
Pray Pardon my Prolixity,
A common Fault in Poetry.

Excuse me Friend, in what I Write t'ye,
And don't forget the Aqua-Vitæ,
Is all I Beg, and so Good B'y't'ye,