All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
A Good and a bad Constable.
The Argvment.
This man is to the Magistrate an eye,Reuealing things which Iustice could not finde.
Blacke deeds of darkenesse he doth oft descry,
And is (if he be honestly inclinde)
So fit the Common-wealth in peace to keepe,
By watching carefully whil'st thousands sleepe.
VVhē
Titan steeps his bright resplēdant beams
And hides his burning Car i'th Westerne streams;
Whē to ye vnder world day takes his slight
And leaues th'Horizon all in darknesse dight,
When Philomell doth 'gainst a thorne proclaime
In dulcet notes the lustfull Tereus shame,
When Maddam Midnight shewes her Ebon face,
And darkenesse doth the Hemisphere embrace,
Then (to keepe all things peaceable and well,
The watchfull Constable keepes centinell.
Then if a man (with drinke) his wit hath left,
Oh hath committed leachery or theft,
Or murder, then the Constable thinkes fit
That such committers straitly he commit.
Hee's Lord high Regent of the tedious night,
Man of the Moone he may be called right:
Great generall of Glowormes, Owles, and Bats,
Comptroler ouer such a whip the Cats.
Dianaes Forrester that with regard,
Doth guard the Heard that liues within his ward,
His vigilancy is most manifest,
For through his hornes he lightens all the rest.
Like Minos, or iust iudging Rhadamant,
He walkes the darkesome streets of Troynouant,
Attended with his Goblins clad in Rugs,
Like Russian Beares, or Phlegetonian bugs,
Vntill Aurora shewes her blushing brow,
And Lucifer doth shine, and cocks do crow,
Madge howlet whooting hides her fearefull head,
Then goes the Constable and's watch to bed.
This officer in the first place I put,
He that comes next is of another cut.
Yet he's a member of the peace comes next,
And writ most commonly an asse in Text:
Image of office he is held to be
And has his staffe tipt with authority,
He has his bill-men which can hardly keepe
The name of watchmen for they're still asleepe.
His word is, Who goes there? Where doe you dwell?
Stand still, and come before the Constable,
Js this an houre: carry him to the Compter, goe:
Sayes a man's drunke, when his owne case is so,
But let a quar'ling slaue indeed goe by.
Leading by th'arme his rampant venery,
A thing of filthy surfet, like a swine,
That scarce can goe laden with pox and wine,
They for their sixpence shall passe by in state,
The porter with a leg will ope the gate,
Worship'd and guarded to their lodging safe,
Not with Bils onely, but th'officious staffe,
Whil'st the good sober man, that nothing gaue,
Is strait committed for a dangerous knaue,
Traytor to th'State, and in the I ayle must lye,
Whil'st th'other's lighted to their lechery,
This Constable may haue a trick in store,
His house may be safe harbour for a whore,
Because no man will offer to search there.
She there may rest, and roost secure from feare.
There she may lodge, and trade too if she will,
As sure and safe as theeues are in a Mill,
Or Suburbs for the birth of Bastards are,
For all desire to lay their bellies there.
Nay as a Compter for a Fellon's home,
Or Ladies chamber for a Priest from Rome.
But yet I say, 'tis not a matter hard,
To finde an honest Constable in's ward,
Trust forbid else, and waking watchmen to,
Whose bils were neuer stolne, and much adoe
To be corrupted with a villaines shilling,
To wrong the good, and bad mens minds fulfilling.
Such men as those I thinke some few there be,
And for the rest, would they were hang'd for me.
He when my Corm'rant is at rest, and thinkes,
Poore fish no harme, nor ought that water drinkes,
That's a night Corm'rant, and at midnight swils,
Whole cans and pots, with Cheaters and their Iils,
He makes all fish that comes into his net,
Drinks drunke, and sleeps, and then the watch is set.
And hides his burning Car i'th Westerne streams;
Whē to ye vnder world day takes his slight
And leaues th'Horizon all in darknesse dight,
When Philomell doth 'gainst a thorne proclaime
In dulcet notes the lustfull Tereus shame,
When Maddam Midnight shewes her Ebon face,
And darkenesse doth the Hemisphere embrace,
Then (to keepe all things peaceable and well,
The watchfull Constable keepes centinell.
Then if a man (with drinke) his wit hath left,
Oh hath committed leachery or theft,
Or murder, then the Constable thinkes fit
That such committers straitly he commit.
Hee's Lord high Regent of the tedious night,
Man of the Moone he may be called right:
Great generall of Glowormes, Owles, and Bats,
Comptroler ouer such a whip the Cats.
Dianaes Forrester that with regard,
Doth guard the Heard that liues within his ward,
His vigilancy is most manifest,
For through his hornes he lightens all the rest.
Like Minos, or iust iudging Rhadamant,
He walkes the darkesome streets of Troynouant,
Attended with his Goblins clad in Rugs,
Like Russian Beares, or Phlegetonian bugs,
Vntill Aurora shewes her blushing brow,
And Lucifer doth shine, and cocks do crow,
Madge howlet whooting hides her fearefull head,
Then goes the Constable and's watch to bed.
This officer in the first place I put,
He that comes next is of another cut.
Yet he's a member of the peace comes next,
And writ most commonly an asse in Text:
Image of office he is held to be
And has his staffe tipt with authority,
He has his bill-men which can hardly keepe
The name of watchmen for they're still asleepe.
His word is, Who goes there? Where doe you dwell?
Stand still, and come before the Constable,
Js this an houre: carry him to the Compter, goe:
Sayes a man's drunke, when his owne case is so,
But let a quar'ling slaue indeed goe by.
Leading by th'arme his rampant venery,
A thing of filthy surfet, like a swine,
That scarce can goe laden with pox and wine,
They for their sixpence shall passe by in state,
The porter with a leg will ope the gate,
Worship'd and guarded to their lodging safe,
Not with Bils onely, but th'officious staffe,
Whil'st the good sober man, that nothing gaue,
Is strait committed for a dangerous knaue,
Traytor to th'State, and in the I ayle must lye,
Whil'st th'other's lighted to their lechery,
This Constable may haue a trick in store,
His house may be safe harbour for a whore,
Because no man will offer to search there.
She there may rest, and roost secure from feare.
There she may lodge, and trade too if she will,
As sure and safe as theeues are in a Mill,
Or Suburbs for the birth of Bastards are,
For all desire to lay their bellies there.
Nay as a Compter for a Fellon's home,
Or Ladies chamber for a Priest from Rome.
But yet I say, 'tis not a matter hard,
To finde an honest Constable in's ward,
Trust forbid else, and waking watchmen to,
Whose bils were neuer stolne, and much adoe
To be corrupted with a villaines shilling,
To wrong the good, and bad mens minds fulfilling.
Such men as those I thinke some few there be,
And for the rest, would they were hang'd for me.
He when my Corm'rant is at rest, and thinkes,
Poore fish no harme, nor ought that water drinkes,
That's a night Corm'rant, and at midnight swils,
Whole cans and pots, with Cheaters and their Iils,
He makes all fish that comes into his net,
Drinks drunke, and sleeps, and then the watch is set.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |