Canidia, or the Witches :: :: University of Virginia Library

The way of obliging all, must needs
Obtain a good Report for false Deeds.
For some will be obliged no other way,
But by such as under them play foul Play.
When by them they have gain'd their base Ends,
They'l count 'um no longer Friends.
They ever counted them Knaves,
When they have done their work, hang 'um up Slaves.

The Devil, they say, is good, when he is pleas'd,
So are Lawyers, as long as they're greas'd.
If all be oblig'd, then the Devil at last.
And to be sure then you're Cast.
This is a very cunning Trick,
To oblige all, is to oblige Old Nick.

The nearer Antiquity, the nearer the Truth,
Rather the World was a Fool in her youth.
Truth proves to be the Daughter of Time,
Experience finds out every Crime.
Errors have past for Truths of old,
Antiquaries do not scold,
Never deny when the Truth is told.

You took all before too much upon Trust,
Now see with your own eyes, 'tis ne're the worst.

Is not this the surer way,
To prove all you do or say?
From their Fathers Children gain,
And their Children come on amain.
No disparagement to first Intentions,
To find out more and better Inventions.
The older the World, the wiser it grows,
Wit comes by Experience every body knows.

Are not we Witches most of us old,
And so grow more crafty and bold?
The World grows worse, according to the Letter,
But it might as well grow better and better.
Galen was a pitiful Quack,
Paracelsus was the Nobler Jack.
Pythagoras, Aristotle, were dull Pads,
Hobs, Cartez, Gassendus were nimble Lads.
Of all which, the true Gainsayers,
Are Augurs, Sybils, and Southsayers.
Roman Fencers, and Stage-Players.

An Hypocritical Generation,
Is all Interest, and all Obligation.
All Complement, all Fashion,
All Complicate, all Subornation.
All Extortion, all Poaching,
All Devouring, all Encroaching.
All Saints, and all Imps,
Witches are ne're so starcht in the Crimps.

When you're most guilty, Cry Whore first,
Let the Accuser do his worst,
All these kind of Rogues are Curst.
What, Tax a Lord of Perjury?
Upon his Honour, you must dye.
Therefore be very shy,
You know well the Reason why:
Honour, Power and Riches, never sin,
They need not be held up by the Chin,
But poor Rogues to the Gallows bring.

None but poor Sinners go to Hell,
None but rich Rogues do all well.
'Tis my Greatness must defend me,
'Tis my Honour must commend me:
But my Honesty may chance to end me,
When my Money can't Befriend me.
I cannot be a rich Rogue till I die,
I need not tell you the reason, why?
Every Body's in a good mood, I dare say,
For me, live or dead, the clean contrary way.

A Prince, be he ne're so good,
He's a Tyrant, a shedder of Blood.
But a false Court of Justice, a wrong Parliament,
Always have a good Intent:
Because they are Omnipotent.
If the People make Outcries,
If he be a King, or a Priest, he dyes,
They speak Truth, all others speak Lyes.
Lyes from the People, are ever believ'd,
So strongly, as never to be retriev'd.

Thus the World runs all upon Wheels,
Took by the Tail, as we use to catch Eels.

They that hunt her, shall ne're overtake her,
Yet they that use her will never forsake her.
I know this to be true, Cuds, Duds,
She'l leave 'um at last all in the Suds.
Oblige them all Mankind,
Knaves and Fools you shall be sure to find.
‘I ha'no more of this counterfeit Corn to grind,
‘Verbum Sapienti, you know my mind.
It us'd to be Verbum Sacerdotis,
'Tis as true, tho a Witch speaks, you know 'tis.

The Case is soul, you'l say, by Law,
Hang it, 'tis not worth a Straw.
A trusty Blade, if it be longer,
Will make the Title the stronger,
View it well, it is a Donger.
By it I get, and keep my own,
I'le quickly take my long Sword down,
And recover without the long Gown.

That's counted ever the best Right,
That conquers and maintains by Might:
So, you may bid all Laws good Night,
And when you're gone, play Least in sight.
You know all this is very Tight,
No difference 'tween black and white.
If variance rise among poor Wights,
The Sword is that sets all to rights.

Madona Eloquentia Canina,
Sits in her Barge upon the Rivers Duina.
Maze, Elve, Loir, Oder, Danow, Rhine,
She's heard Bark, as far as Tyne.
The Guinnyes fly beyond Charing Cross,
When Actor and Reus are both at a Loss.

From Doto malo, to Bona Fide,
The Lawyer and the Devil ride ye,
I care not what Ill betide ye.

‘I fancy, I am some great Queen
‘Of Fairies, clothed all in green.
‘I wonder Words, Figures, and Charms,
‘Should operate such mighty Harms,
‘And destroy so many Farms.
‘Thundring Spells and brazen Faces,
‘Do nothing till we come to Maces.
‘A Venus for a time may Charm,
‘With a Smile, but does little harm.
‘Note it, forthwith we feel
‘Most virtue from Gold or Steel.

‘I wonder why I shou'd do so,
‘'Tis Reason, I must, whither I will or no.
Come with your gifts, and never fear,
The Golden Horse is the better Mare.
The way to overcome, you know,
'Tis by a Word and a Blow.
For all your Tricks, for all your Plots,
The Sword is the best to cut Knots.

You may Vapor o're your Pots,
You are but Cowards and Sots.
'Tis the Sword that hits all the Blots,
And conquers all upon the Spots,
'Tis to no purpose to cast Lots.
Clodius accusat Mœchos, Faith we'l Feague 'um,
When we come to Catilina Cethegum.

Forfeiture destroys all Right,
But I say, 'tis want of Might,
The Law shall sink you out of sight.
Take it for true, upon my Word,
He has the best Right, that has the best Sword.
Forfeiture is a meer Ass,
We're are all mortal, Hay and Grass.
I'le make it good, what e're it was,
Your Boor was a Sow-Bass.

Tell me of Titles to House and Land,
My Sword is ready at my hand.
Tell me of Law, the Fool do's you ride,
I have my Cutter by my side.
This is Law, and this is all
You can Right or Wrong call.

If to the Schools you won't yield,
I'le beat you quite out of the Field.
If you won't stoop, all the World knows,
You shall be made to stoop by Blows,
If the Sword will defend the Law,
The same Sword must keep all in Awe.
'Tis just so, in a Word,
All Strife is ended by the Sword.

If you'l have my Approbation,
The Sword's the strength of every Nation.
Therefore Princes keep your station,
Of Peace and War, you are the Foundation.
What are Subjects, for all their Words,
If they have leave to use their Swords?
Farewel to a Monarch his good skill,
Money and Arms must have their will,
They'l not spare Princes Blood to spill.

‘I never knew a Witches or Madmans heart,
‘Or Ideots with Rebels took part.
‘I speak plainly, under Correction,
‘I ever was for a lawful Subjection;
‘And safety in a Kings Protection,
‘I ever hated Rebellious Infection.

‘In a Free State, Memento,
‘Every Rogue cries, Mio non consento;
‘Do their best, still 'tis Mio non contento.
‘No thanks to the best Kings, or the best Parliamento,
‘Hamper such Slaves at the Council of Trento.
‘There are in the World no safer Charms,
‘Than to be embrac'd in a Princes Arms.

Scatter your golden Mice, and fat a Cause,
A lusty Bribe will baffle all Laws.
Else, in vain you may plead your heart out,
And lose the day, be ye never so stout.
With a Silver Dagger stab a good Cause,
That shall get you all Applause.
Knock off quick, if y' have no money to pay,
That's enough for a Body to say.
But if you'l come to me to Confessions,
I'le teach you a thousand better Lessons.

Princes Supreme are Legislators,
Pleaders are Interpretators,
Judges are Arbitrators.
Both are very great Translators,
And of these we are no Admirators.
So the Result is, the Law shall rest,
In the Juries or Prætors Brest,
Of Right or Wrong there lies the Nest.

And there lies the Cream of the Jest,
'Tis not in your power to choose the Best.

If your Cause be out of Socket,
The Remedy is, Money in your Pocket.
That's that, that fits the Docket,
The richest Jewel in the Locket.
Or if Rigor won't discharge ye,
I cannot tell how to enlarge ye.
You may have the benefit of Clergy,
That's more than Hell will award ye.

‘But we Witches to be sure are deluded,
‘From this, and all other favours excluded.
‘Tho we can ne're so well rehearse,
‘We are not allowed our Neck Verse;
‘But yet, we can allow them a Hearse.
‘A Dram or so, let 'um look to't,
‘Teach 'um to deny us the Book,
‘When we need no Prompter to overlook.

‘And which of all will prove the worse,
‘There's for them many an endless Curse.
‘Some of us shall be their Nurses,
‘In vain then to draw their Purses.
‘When they come into such Conditions,
‘Let them come out with their Prohibitions.
‘We can hear no Propositions,
‘Nor make any Compositions.
‘A Habeas Corpus shall not remove it,
‘A Capias Animam will disprove it.

‘A thousand ways we have to fit 'um,
‘Hell confound 'um, Devils split 'um.

‘The greatest safety in Law lies,
‘The greatest dangers from them rise,
‘'Tis time for all to open their Eyes,
‘Before they be made a Sacrifice;
‘We know where the Mischief lies.

For a base Rascal's Lust,
In no Mortal put your Trust.
We never into Purses dive,
Either to kill or save alive.
And your Posterity shall never thrive,
Smother all the Wasps i'th' Hive,
So we our Vengeance contrive.

Now a days 'tis all the Note,
Young men are wise, and Old men dote.
Experience is nothing now,
Old men want strength to hold the Plow.
At the Stern they cannot stand,
Young Wits are fittest for Command,
They can do nothing, that most understand.
So the World thrives backward underhand,
This puts all Learning to a stand.

Judges, you know, damn all Commissions,
Lords answer no Petitions.
Make 'um for green Heads and hot Spurs,
Not for Sages clad in Furs.
Parents must not be Lords or Masters,
The youngest Doctors cure all Disasters.
Old Counsellers are past their Prime,
Take young Dupondias at half her Time.
Old Lytæ, you may burn your Books,
Give place to young Rooks,
You shall know them by their Looks.

Mongrel Philosophers be gone,
I'le have a fling at you e're long.
Pety Foggers, Fidlers, Rhimers,
Ye are no better than Chimers.
We value not your Power or State,
Give us the Devil and his Mate,
Poet and Orator go prate.
To work Hags, never stand still,
Bring us more Grists to our Mill,
We resolve to have our will.

The Watry Nymphs Primordia,
Are the Universe Præcordia,
These are accounted Genital,
Virgins them you may not call,
For they're deflowr'd, as we are all.
The Nine Muses are no better,
By Apollo, that true Bone-setter.

Rationes Seminales,
Nunquam adhuc inveni Tales.
Spermatick Forms, or Archei,
Are a kind of Semi-Dei.
Magnetick Particles are hurl'd,
By the Spirit of Nature and Soul of the World.
Vital Congruity, Plastick Parts,
Puzle Philosophick Arts.

Our Spells are nothing so perplext,
But Mortals have much more vext,
We preach much upon that Text.
Old men, lame and blind open their Lids,
Caper with their legs, like Lambs or Kids.

When by a Taratantula Bit,
They arrive to more strength and Wit,
This is the Nail on the head to Hit.
Senertus a-la-mode de France,
Calls this St. Vitus his Dance.

An Iron Trevet on the Shelf,
Gives as good Oracles, as the golden Tripos at Delph.
Satyricus, Umbilicus Veneris,
Provoke to lust, utriusque Generis.
Yet the Rogue Wierus,
Is not afraid to Jeer us.
Wallnuts bear the Signature of the Head,
('Tis time for me to go to Bed.)
The green Cortex answers the Pericrane,
The Kernel resembles the Brain.
The Salt of both cures the Head Pain,
Ye need never offer to open a Vein.

Augustus Herod prospered in Wars and Peace,
At home could find but little Ease.
Murd'ring Children, killing Wives,
Were forc't to lend Cuckolds Lives.
Quintilius Varro, and his Legions, I remember well,
In Germany we're fain to lead Apes in Hell.