 |
 | An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace |  |
[_]
Si quis nunc quaerat, Quo res haec pertinet? Illuc:
Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt.
Malchinus tunicis demissis ambulat: est qui
Inguen ad obscaenum subductis usque facetus:
Pastillos Rufillus olet, Gargonius hircum.
Nil medium est. sunt qui nolint tetigisse, nisi illas,
Quarum subsuta talos tegat instita veste:
Contra alius nullam, nisi olente in fornice stantem.
Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt.
Malchinus tunicis demissis ambulat: est qui
Inguen ad obscaenum subductis usque facetus:
Pastillos Rufillus olet, Gargonius hircum.
Nil medium est. sunt qui nolint tetigisse, nisi illas,
Quarum subsuta talos tegat instita veste:
Contra alius nullam, nisi olente in fornice stantem.
“Women and Fools are always in Extreme.
Rufa's at either end a Common-Shoar,
Sweet Moll and Jack are Civet-Cat and Boar:
Nothing in Nature is so lewd as Peg,
Yet, for the World, she would not shew her Leg!
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Spreads her Fore-Buttocks to the Navel bare.
But diff'rent Taste in diff'rent Men prevails,
And one is fired by Heads, and one by Tails;
Some feel no Flames but at the Court or Ball,
And others hunt white Aprons in the Mall.
My Lord of L---n, chancing to remark
A noted Dean much busy'd in the Park,
“Proceed (he cry'd) proceed, my Reverend Brother,
“'Tis Fornicatio simplex, and no other:
“Better than lust for Boys, with Pope and Turk,
“Or others Spouses, like my Lord of ---
A noted Dean much busy'd in the Park,
“Proceed (he cry'd) proceed, my Reverend Brother,
“'Tis Fornicatio simplex, and no other:
“Better than lust for Boys, with Pope and Turk,
“Or others Spouses, like my Lord of ---
May no such Praise (cries J---s) e'er be mine!
J---s, who bows at Hi---sb---w's hoary Shrine.
J---s, who bows at Hi---sb---w's hoary Shrine.
[_]
Audire est operae pretium, procedere recte
Qui moechos non voltis, ut omni parte laborent;
Utque illis multo corrupta dolore voluptas,
Atque haec rara, cadat dura inter saepe pericla.
Hic se praecipitem tecto dedit: ille flagellis
Ad mortem caesus: fugiens hic decidet acrem
Praedonum in turbam: dedit hic pro corpore nummos:
Hunc perminxerunt calones; quin etiam illud
Accidit, ut cuidam testis, caudamque salacem
Demeterent ferro. jure omnes. Galba negabat.
Qui moechos non voltis, ut omni parte laborent;
Utque illis multo corrupta dolore voluptas,
Atque haec rara, cadat dura inter saepe pericla.
Hic se praecipitem tecto dedit: ille flagellis
Ad mortem caesus: fugiens hic decidet acrem
Praedonum in turbam: dedit hic pro corpore nummos:
Hunc perminxerunt calones; quin etiam illud
Accidit, ut cuidam testis, caudamque salacem
Demeterent ferro. jure omnes. Galba negabat.
Till ev'ry Cuckold-maker's flea'd alive;
Attend, while I their Miseries explain,
And pity Men of Pleasure still in Pain!
Survey the Pangs they bear, the Risques they run,
Where the most lucky are but last undone.
See wretched Monsieur flies to save his Throat,
And quits his Mistress, Money, Ring, and Note!
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By worthier Footmen pist upon and whipt!
Plunder'd by Thieves, or Lawyers which is worse,
One bleeds in Person, and one bleeds in Purse;
This meets a Blanket, and that meets a Cudgel—
And all applaud the Justice—All, but Budgel.
[_]
Tutior at quanto merx est in classe secunda!
Libertinarum dico: Sallustius in qua
Non minus insanit, quam qui moechatur. at hic si,
Qua res, qua ratio sauderet, quaque modeste
Munifico esse licet, vellet bonus atque benignus
Esse; daret quantum satis esset, nec sibi damno
Dedecorique foret. verum hoc se amplectitur uno,
Hoc amat & laudat: Matronam nullam ego tango.
Libertinarum dico: Sallustius in qua
Non minus insanit, quam qui moechatur. at hic si,
Qua res, qua ratio sauderet, quaque modeste
Munifico esse licet, vellet bonus atque benignus
Esse; daret quantum satis esset, nec sibi damno
Dedecorique foret. verum hoc se amplectitur uno,
Hoc amat & laudat: Matronam nullam ego tango.
Who trades in Frigates of the second Rate?
And yet some Care of S---st should be had,
Nothing so mean for which he can't run mad;
His Wit confirms him but a Slave the more,
And makes a Princess whom he found a Whore.
The Youth might save much Trouble and Expence,
Were he a Dupe of only common Sense.
But here's his point; A Wench (he cries) for me!
“I never touch a Dame of Quality.
[_]
Ut quondam Marsaeus amator Originis, ille
Qui patrium mimae donat fundumque laremque,
Nil fuerit mi, inquit, cum uxoribus umquam alienis.
Verum est cum mimis, est cum meretricibus: unde
Fama malum gravius, quam res, trahit. an tibi abunde
Personam satis est, non illud, quicquid ubique
Officit, evitare? bonam deperdere famam,
Rem patris oblimare, malum est ubicumque. quid inter
Est in matrona, ancilla, peccesne togata?
Qui patrium mimae donat fundumque laremque,
Nil fuerit mi, inquit, cum uxoribus umquam alienis.
Verum est cum mimis, est cum meretricibus: unde
Fama malum gravius, quam res, trahit. an tibi abunde
Personam satis est, non illud, quicquid ubique
Officit, evitare? bonam deperdere famam,
Rem patris oblimare, malum est ubicumque. quid inter
Est in matrona, ancilla, peccesne togata?
He courts the whole Personæ Dramatis:
He too can say, “With Wives I never sin.”
But Singing-Girls and Mimicks draw him in.
Sure, worthy Sir, the Diff'rence is not great,
With whom you lose your Credit and Estate?
This, or that Person, what avails to shun?
What's wrong is wrong, wherever it be done:
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Destroy'd alike with Strumpet, Maid, or Wife.
What push'd poor Ellis on th'Imperial Whore?
'Twas but to be where Charles had been before.
The fatal Steel unjustly was apply'd,
When not his Lust offended, but his Pride:
Too hard a Penance for defeated Sin,
Himself shut out, and Jacob Hall let in.
'Twas but to be where Charles had been before.
The fatal Steel unjustly was apply'd,
When not his Lust offended, but his Pride:
Too hard a Penance for defeated Sin,
Himself shut out, and Jacob Hall let in.
Suppose that honest Part that rules us all,
Should rise, and say—“Sir Robert! or Sir Paul!
“Did I demand, in my most vig'rous hour,
“A Thing descended from the Conqueror?
“Or when my pulse beat highest, ask for any
“Such Nicety, as Lady or Lord Fanny?—
What would you answer? Could you have the Face,
When the poor Suff'rer humbly mourn'd his Case,
To cry “You weep the Favours of her Grace?
Should rise, and say—“Sir Robert! or Sir Paul!
“Did I demand, in my most vig'rous hour,
“A Thing descended from the Conqueror?
“Or when my pulse beat highest, ask for any
“Such Nicety, as Lady or Lord Fanny?—
What would you answer? Could you have the Face,
When the poor Suff'rer humbly mourn'd his Case,
To cry “You weep the Favours of her Grace?
[_]
At quanto meliora monet, pugnantiaque istis
Dives opis natura suae! tu si modo recte
Dispensare velis, ac non fugienda petendis
Inmiscere.
—Tuo vitio, rerumne labores,
Nil referre putas? quare, ne poeniteat te,
Desine matronas sectarier: unde laboris
Plus haurire mali est, quam ex re decerpere fructus.
Dives opis natura suae! tu si modo recte
Dispensare velis, ac non fugienda petendis
Inmiscere.
—Tuo vitio, rerumne labores,
Nil referre putas? quare, ne poeniteat te,
Desine matronas sectarier: unde laboris
Plus haurire mali est, quam ex re decerpere fructus.
And giv'n enough for Man, enough for Beast?
But Man corrupt, perverse in all his ways,
In search of Vanities from Nature strays:
Yea, tho' the Blessing's more than he can use,
Shuns the permitted, the forbid pursues!
Weigh well the Cause from whence these Evils spring,
'Tis in thyself, and not in God's good Thing:
Then, lest Repentence punish such a Life,
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[_]
Nec magis huic, inter niveos viridisque lapillos
Sit licet, o Cerinthe, tuo tenerum est femur, aut crus
Rectius: atque etiam melius persaepe togatae est.
Adde huc, quod mercem sine fucis gestat; aperte
Quod venale habet, ostendit; neque si quid honesti est
Jactat habetque palam, quaerit quo turpia celet.
Regibus hic mos est, ubi equos mercantur; opertos
Inspiciunt: ne si facies, ut saepe, decora
Molli fulta pede est; emtorem ducat hiantem,
Quod pulchrae clunes, breve quod caput, ardua cervix.
Hoc illi recte. Tu corporis optima Lyncei
Contemplare occulis; Hypsaea caecior, illa
Quae mala sunt, spectas. O crus, o brachia! verum
Depugis, nasuta, brevi latere, ac pede longo est.
Sit licet, o Cerinthe, tuo tenerum est femur, aut crus
Rectius: atque etiam melius persaepe togatae est.
Adde huc, quod mercem sine fucis gestat; aperte
Quod venale habet, ostendit; neque si quid honesti est
Jactat habetque palam, quaerit quo turpia celet.
Regibus hic mos est, ubi equos mercantur; opertos
Inspiciunt: ne si facies, ut saepe, decora
Molli fulta pede est; emtorem ducat hiantem,
Quod pulchrae clunes, breve quod caput, ardua cervix.
Hoc illi recte. Tu corporis optima Lyncei
Contemplare occulis; Hypsaea caecior, illa
Quae mala sunt, spectas. O crus, o brachia! verum
Depugis, nasuta, brevi latere, ac pede longo est.
Or plumper Thigh, than lurk in humble Crape:
And secondly, how innocent a Belle
Is she who shows what Ware she has to sell;
Not Lady-like, displays a milk-white Breast,
And hides in sacred Sluttishness the rest.
Our ancient Kings (and sure those Kings were wise,
Who judg'd themselves, and saw with their own Eyes)
A War-horse never for the Service chose,
But ey'd him round, and stript off all the Cloaths;
For well they knew, proud Trappings serve to hide
A heavy Chest, thick Neck, or heaving Side.
But Fools are ready Chaps, agog to buy,
Let but a comely Fore-hand strike the Eye:
No Eagle sharper, every Charm to find,
To all defects, Ty---y not so blind:
Goose-rump'd, Hawk-nos'd, Swan-footed, is my Dear?
They'l praise her Elbow, Heel, or Tip o'th' Ear.
Who judg'd themselves, and saw with their own Eyes)
A War-horse never for the Service chose,
But ey'd him round, and stript off all the Cloaths;
For well they knew, proud Trappings serve to hide
A heavy Chest, thick Neck, or heaving Side.
But Fools are ready Chaps, agog to buy,
Let but a comely Fore-hand strike the Eye:
No Eagle sharper, every Charm to find,
To all defects, Ty---y not so blind:
Goose-rump'd, Hawk-nos'd, Swan-footed, is my Dear?
They'l praise her Elbow, Heel, or Tip o'th' Ear.
[_]
Matronae, praeter faciem, nil cernere possis;
Caetera, ni Catia est, demissia veste tegentis.
Si interdicta petes, vallo circumdata, (nam te
Hoc facit insanum) multae tibi tum officient res;
Custodes, lectica, ciniflones, parasitae;
Ad talos stola demissa, & circumdata palla:
Plurima, quae invideant pure adparere tibi rem.
Altera nil obstat: Cois tibi pene videre est
Ut nudam; ne crure malo, ne sit pede turpi:
Metiri possis oculo latus. an tibi mavis
Insidias fieri, pretiumque avellier, ante
Quam mercem ostendi?
Caetera, ni Catia est, demissia veste tegentis.
Si interdicta petes, vallo circumdata, (nam te
Hoc facit insanum) multae tibi tum officient res;
Custodes, lectica, ciniflones, parasitae;
Ad talos stola demissa, & circumdata palla:
Plurima, quae invideant pure adparere tibi rem.
Altera nil obstat: Cois tibi pene videre est
Ut nudam; ne crure malo, ne sit pede turpi:
Metiri possis oculo latus. an tibi mavis
Insidias fieri, pretiumque avellier, ante
Quam mercem ostendi?
(For none but Lady M--- shows the Rest)
But if to Charms more latent you pretend,
What Lines encompass, and what Works defend!
Dangers on Dangers! obstacles by dozens!
Spies, Guardians, Guests, old Women, Aunts, and Cozens!
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Stays will obstruct above, and Hoops below,
And if the Dame says yes, the Dress says no.
Not thus at N---dh---m's; your judicious Eye
May measure there the Breast, the Hip, the Thigh!
And will you run to Perils, Sword, and Law,
All for a Thing you ne're so much as saw?
[_]
------ Leporem venator ut alta
In nive sectetur, positum sic tangere nolit:
Cantat, & adponit, meus est amor huic similis: nam
Transvolat in medio posita, & fugientia captat.
Hiscine versiculis speras tibi posse dolores,
Atque aestus, curasque gravis e pectore tolli?
Nonne, cupidinibus statuat natura modum quem,
Quid latura, sibi quid sit dolitura negatum,
Quaerere plus prodest; & inane abscindere soldo?
Num, tibi cum faucis urit sitis, aurea quaeris
Pocula? num esuriens fastidis omnia praeter
Pavonem, rhombumque? tument tibi cum inguina, num, si
Ancilla aut verna est praesto puer, impetus in quem
Continuo fiat, malis tentigine rumpi?
Non ego: namque parabilem amo venerem, facilemque.
In nive sectetur, positum sic tangere nolit:
Cantat, & adponit, meus est amor huic similis: nam
Transvolat in medio posita, & fugientia captat.
Hiscine versiculis speras tibi posse dolores,
Atque aestus, curasque gravis e pectore tolli?
Nonne, cupidinibus statuat natura modum quem,
Quid latura, sibi quid sit dolitura negatum,
Quaerere plus prodest; & inane abscindere soldo?
Num, tibi cum faucis urit sitis, aurea quaeris
Pocula? num esuriens fastidis omnia praeter
Pavonem, rhombumque? tument tibi cum inguina, num, si
Ancilla aut verna est praesto puer, impetus in quem
Continuo fiat, malis tentigine rumpi?
Non ego: namque parabilem amo venerem, facilemque.
“The little Scut he so pursu'd before,
“Love follows flying Game (as Sucklyn sings)
“And 'tis for that the wanton Boy has Wings.”
Why let him Sing—but when you're in the Wrong,
Think ye to cure the Mischief with a Song?
Has Nature set no bounds to wild Desire?
No Sense to guide, no Reason to enquire,
What solid Happiness, what empty Pride?
And what is best indulg'd, or best deny'd?
If neither Gems adorn, nor Silver tip
The flowing Bowl, will you not wet your Lip?
When sharp with Hunger, scorn you to be fed,
Except on Pea-Chicks, at the Bedford-head?
Or, when a tight, neat Girl, will serve the Turn,
In errant Pride continue stiff, and burn?
I'm a plain Man, whose Maxim is profest,
“The Thing at hand is of all Things the best.
[_]
Illam, Post paullo, Sed pluris, Si exierit vir,
Gallis: Hanc, Philodemus ait sibi, quae neque magno
Stet pretio; nec cunctetur, cum est jussa venire.
Candida rectaque sit; munda hactenus, ut neque longa,
Nec magis alba velit, quam det natura, videri.
Haec, ubi supposuit dextro corpus mihi laevum,
Ilia & Egeria est: do nomen quodlibet illi.
Nec vereor, ne, dum futuo, vir rure recurrat;
Janua frangatur; latret canis; undique magno
Pulsa domus strepitu resonet: ne pallida lecto
Desiliat mulier; miseram se conscia clamet;
Cruribus haec metuat, doti haec deprensa, egomet mi.
Discincta tunica fugiendum est, ac pede nudo;
Ne nummi pereant, aut puga, aut denique fama.
Deprendi miserum est: Fabio vel judice vincam.
Gallis: Hanc, Philodemus ait sibi, quae neque magno
Stet pretio; nec cunctetur, cum est jussa venire.
Candida rectaque sit; munda hactenus, ut neque longa,
Nec magis alba velit, quam det natura, videri.
Haec, ubi supposuit dextro corpus mihi laevum,
Ilia & Egeria est: do nomen quodlibet illi.
Nec vereor, ne, dum futuo, vir rure recurrat;
Janua frangatur; latret canis; undique magno
Pulsa domus strepitu resonet: ne pallida lecto
Desiliat mulier; miseram se conscia clamet;
Cruribus haec metuat, doti haec deprensa, egomet mi.
Discincta tunica fugiendum est, ac pede nudo;
Ne nummi pereant, aut puga, aut denique fama.
Deprendi miserum est: Fabio vel judice vincam.
Whose Word is If, Perhaps, and By-and-By,
Z---ds! let some Eunuch or Platonic take—
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Who asks no more (right reasonable Peer)
Than not to wait too long, nor pay too dear.
Give me a willing Nymph! 'tis all I care,
Extremely clean, and tolerably fair,
Her Shape her own, whatever Shape she have,
And just that White and Red which Nature gave.
Her I transported touch, transported view,
And call her Angel! Goddess! Montague!
No furious Husband thunders at the Door;
No barking Dog, no Household in a Roar;
From gleaming Swords no shrieking Women run;
No wretched Wife cries out, Undone! Undone!
Seiz'd in the Fact, and in her Cuckold's Pow'r,
She kneels, she weeps, and worse! resigns her Dow'r.
Me, naked me, to Posts, to Pumps they draw,
To Shame eternal, or eternal Law.
Oh Love! be deep Tranquility my Luck!
No Mistress H---ysh---m near, no Lady B---ck!
For, to be taken, is the Dev'll in Hell;
This Truth, let L---l, J---ys, O---w tell.
| An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace | |