 | Poems By John Hall |  |
65
To an Old Wife talking to him.
Peace Beldam ugly, thou'lt not findeM' ears bottles for enchanted wind,
That breath of thine can onely raise
New stormes and discompose the Seas,
It may (assisted by thy clatter)
A Pigmæan army scatter,
Or move without the smallest streame,
Loretto's Chappell once againe,
And blow St. Goodrick while he prayes
And knowes not what it is he saies,
And helpes false Latin with a hem
From Finckly to Jerusalem,
Or in th'Pacifique Sea supply
The winde that Nature doth deny.
What dost thou thinke I can retaine
All this and sprout it out againe?
As a surcharged Whale doth spew
Old Rivers to receive in new,
Thou art deceiv'd, even Æol's Cave
That can all other blasts receive,
66
How then the narrow eares of mine?
Defect of Organs may me cause
By chance to pillorize an Asse:
Yet should I shake his eares, they'd be
Though long, too streight to hearken thee.
Yet if thou hast a mind to heare
How high thy voices merits are,
Attend the Cham, and when h'as din'd
Skreek Princes leave that have a minde,
Or serve the States, thou'lt usefull come
And have the pay of every drum,
Or trudge to Utreckt, there outrun
Dame Skurmans score of tongues, with one.
But pray be still, O now I feare
There may be Torments for the eare,
O let me when I chance to die
In Vulcans Anvile buried lie,
Rather then heare thy tongue once knell,
That Tom a Lincolne and Bow-bell.
| Poems By John Hall | |