 | Canidia, or the Witches |  |
CANTO I.
Do, Laugh, Democritus; Heraclitus, Cry,
'Tis a fine sight, to grin, and put finger in Eye.
No Fools like the old Fools, for shame cease,
Mad Shavers will do what they please.
We read, that Birds, Beasts, and Trees of old,
Spake, when Men durst not be so bold.
Of Villany, and Tyranny the highest Strain,
Is, to suffer none of Wrongs to complain.
'Tis a fine sight, to grin, and put finger in Eye.
No Fools like the old Fools, for shame cease,
Mad Shavers will do what they please.
We read, that Birds, Beasts, and Trees of old,
Spake, when Men durst not be so bold.
Of Villany, and Tyranny the highest Strain,
Is, to suffer none of Wrongs to complain.
So to sin without Controll,
Endures neither Check nor Droll.
This crosses the very Justice of Hell,
Where none are punisht that do well.
But where no Pen, nor Tongue, nor Hand
Must move, there's no Counsel nor Command,
There Good and Bad are at a stand,
That's worse than Dis, or Fairy Land.
Endures neither Check nor Droll.
This crosses the very Justice of Hell,
Where none are punisht that do well.
But where no Pen, nor Tongue, nor Hand
Must move, there's no Counsel nor Command,
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That's worse than Dis, or Fairy Land.
Where there's neither Satyr nor Droll,
Murd'rers and Judges walk Cheek by Joll,
For such States, let the Bell Toll.
They that deserve an Objurgation,
Sue Plaintiff in Action of Defamation,
This Liberty undoes a Nation.
Stifle all History and Record,
From the Peasant to the Lord,
Censure no mans Deed or Word.
Murd'rers and Judges walk Cheek by Joll,
For such States, let the Bell Toll.
They that deserve an Objurgation,
Sue Plaintiff in Action of Defamation,
This Liberty undoes a Nation.
Stifle all History and Record,
From the Peasant to the Lord,
Censure no mans Deed or Word.
A fine World! when to do any thing every man may be bold,
And no Man of his Offence must be told.
If this be allowed Indemnity,
Why should not we Witches be free?
Can it be counted Sense or Reason,
To hang them up, that find fault with Felony or Treason?
Shall the Law let go gross Offenders,
And fall upon the honest Reprehenders?
Plague the Thrifty, and encourage the Spenders?
Then farewel the Trade of State-Menders.
And no Man of his Offence must be told.
If this be allowed Indemnity,
Why should not we Witches be free?
Can it be counted Sense or Reason,
To hang them up, that find fault with Felony or Treason?
Shall the Law let go gross Offenders,
And fall upon the honest Reprehenders?
Plague the Thrifty, and encourage the Spenders?
Then farewel the Trade of State-Menders.
Do your worst Officers, says Tacebo,
Hangman lacks work, says Non Placebo.
It puts Wise men upon the Frets,
To find Laws turn'd into Nets.
The greatest Plague took up by the Factions,
Is to plunge the Modest into chargeable Actions,
The Janus Lawyers gather vast Fruits,
By strangling the Quiet in Endless Suits.
Hangman lacks work, says Non Placebo.
It puts Wise men upon the Frets,
To find Laws turn'd into Nets.
The greatest Plague took up by the Factions,
Is to plunge the Modest into chargeable Actions,
The Janus Lawyers gather vast Fruits,
By strangling the Quiet in Endless Suits.
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Put up your Injuries into your Sleeves,
What the Eye ne're sees, the Heart ne're grieves.
All the World hath cause to complain,
Of the Delays of proud Spain.
Me veny la morte di Spagna, at long running,
For then to be sure 'twill be slow a coming.
That way is desperately suspected,
That deserves, but refuses to be Corrected.
What the Eye ne're sees, the Heart ne're grieves.
All the World hath cause to complain,
Of the Delays of proud Spain.
Me veny la morte di Spagna, at long running,
For then to be sure 'twill be slow a coming.
That way is desperately suspected,
That deserves, but refuses to be Corrected.
What ever's that Law, I can't understand,
That banishes Informers out of a Land,
And suffers Licentiousness to Command.
There's plenty of Traytors, Rogues and Whores,
Where they admit of no Corrigidores.
That Land swarms with Bandities and Tories,
That breeds no Alcades or Commandatories.
Letters of Mart or Represalia,
Armies of Thieves stand in Battalia,
To fill up the Fields of Pharsalia.
That banishes Informers out of a Land,
And suffers Licentiousness to Command.
There's plenty of Traytors, Rogues and Whores,
Where they admit of no Corrigidores.
That Land swarms with Bandities and Tories,
That breeds no Alcades or Commandatories.
Letters of Mart or Represalia,
Armies of Thieves stand in Battalia,
To fill up the Fields of Pharsalia.
It was thought of old, that none but Kings
Were exempted from Satyrs Stings.
But now every one that lies under a Hedge,
Shall plead Immunity and Priviledge,
And steal, if he can, the Golden Wedge.
This sets all my Teeth on edge,
If I Rob, no body need to be my Pledge.
Were exempted from Satyrs Stings.
But now every one that lies under a Hedge,
Shall plead Immunity and Priviledge,
And steal, if he can, the Golden Wedge.
This sets all my Teeth on edge,
If I Rob, no body need to be my Pledge.
For now the proudest Knaves that e're Pist,
Presume to do what they list.
And, if nere so much mischief, all is Whist,
And they're already at it Hand to Fist.
Rock all the Laws, say I, asleep,
Or hurl their Books into the Deep.
And out all Frogs and Toads will creep,
But not an honest Man dares peep.
Presume to do what they list.
And, if nere so much mischief, all is Whist,
And they're already at it Hand to Fist.
Rock all the Laws, say I, asleep,
Or hurl their Books into the Deep.
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But not an honest Man dares peep.
If a True-hearted Body find fault,
Tumble him into the Inquisition Vault,
Of Hell, that is a perfect Draught.
A true Informer, there let him dye,
The Commonwealth won't endure a Spye.
In Wickedness we're ne're like to thrive,
So long as there's a Satyr alive.
Nemo me lacessit impunè, is the Motto of the Thistle,
The Publick Good for this Priviledge, may go Whistle.
Tumble him into the Inquisition Vault,
Of Hell, that is a perfect Draught.
A true Informer, there let him dye,
The Commonwealth won't endure a Spye.
In Wickedness we're ne're like to thrive,
So long as there's a Satyr alive.
Nemo me lacessit impunè, is the Motto of the Thistle,
The Publick Good for this Priviledge, may go Whistle.
Kings indeed are safe, under the Rose,
But Subjects are in their own Clothes.
They may, without a Fiction,
Sin, free from Contradiction.
If my rich Neighbour come to cut my Throat,
As Pompey's was in the Egyptian Boat.
I must stand still, and not find fault,
Or else he'l leave me not worth a Groat.
But Subjects are in their own Clothes.
They may, without a Fiction,
Sin, free from Contradiction.
If my rich Neighbour come to cut my Throat,
As Pompey's was in the Egyptian Boat.
I must stand still, and not find fault,
Or else he'l leave me not worth a Groat.
Do not Parliaments to Kings complain,
Of Grievances, and shall Subjects disdain.
To be complain'd of, or punisht by Kings,
Or, if need be, by Inferior Things?
If there be allow'd no Reprehension,
Of Rebels there will be a general Comprehension,
And that must be a damnable Invention.
In all Commonwealths, at these Rates,
No Censors of Manners, or Estates,
No more need of Magistrates.
Of Grievances, and shall Subjects disdain.
To be complain'd of, or punisht by Kings,
Or, if need be, by Inferior Things?
If there be allow'd no Reprehension,
Of Rebels there will be a general Comprehension,
And that must be a damnable Invention.
In all Commonwealths, at these Rates,
No Censors of Manners, or Estates,
No more need of Magistrates.
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Let us dance at Barly-Breaks,
And refer all to the Fates.
Tho we break one anothers Pates,
And you may shut up Hell Gates.
Yet every Gossip with her Mate,
Shall never leave to lye and prate,
Of them that are of highest state.
Say, or do the Law what it will,
A Womans Tongue will never lye still.
And refer all to the Fates.
Tho we break one anothers Pates,
And you may shut up Hell Gates.
Yet every Gossip with her Mate,
Shall never leave to lye and prate,
Of them that are of highest state.
Say, or do the Law what it will,
A Womans Tongue will never lye still.
Canting Saints call Satyrs Libels,
Where find they that in all their Bibels.
May Sins be rebuked, or may they not?
This Answer may suffice a Sot,
That passes his Verdict over a Pot.
(A Fools Bolt is soon shot,)
But never understands What's what.
Where find they that in all their Bibels.
May Sins be rebuked, or may they not?
This Answer may suffice a Sot,
That passes his Verdict over a Pot.
(A Fools Bolt is soon shot,)
But never understands What's what.
If Good may be cry'd up, evil may be cry'd down,
With Honesty all over the Town.
To teach to do Good, and eschew Evil,
Comes not kindly from a Witch, or a Devil.
When Vice is cry'd out against, none are abus'd,
But only when Honest men are falsly accus'd.
That's Scandal and Libelling, therefore,
To call a Spade a Spade ne're go behind the Door.
With Honesty all over the Town.
To teach to do Good, and eschew Evil,
Comes not kindly from a Witch, or a Devil.
When Vice is cry'd out against, none are abus'd,
But only when Honest men are falsly accus'd.
That's Scandal and Libelling, therefore,
To call a Spade a Spade ne're go behind the Door.
Lawyers and Sects, leave your Canting,
For all this Satyr is but a Witches Ranting.
Philosophers and Poets play all the like Game,
I wish all Ranters were sober and tame,
So, I might get my self a Name.
And this is all, I poor Witch intend,
That every Rascal would amend,
And so they, then me, might come to a better End.
For all this Satyr is but a Witches Ranting.
Philosophers and Poets play all the like Game,
I wish all Ranters were sober and tame,
So, I might get my self a Name.
And this is all, I poor Witch intend,
That every Rascal would amend,
And so they, then me, might come to a better End.
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A grave, wise Debauchee, that soonest takes Pet,
May be soonest caught in a Fools Net.
A Capricious Ass, in my Apprehension,
May be rid of his Folly, by a Fools Reprehension.
A great Opiniator may come to my School,
And soonest be cured by Ridicule,
That Purge settles him upon the Close Stool.
In these damnably daring, angry Times,
Fops are fetcht over by ridiculous Rhimes.
May be soonest caught in a Fools Net.
A Capricious Ass, in my Apprehension,
May be rid of his Folly, by a Fools Reprehension.
A great Opiniator may come to my School,
And soonest be cured by Ridicule,
That Purge settles him upon the Close Stool.
In these damnably daring, angry Times,
Fops are fetcht over by ridiculous Rhimes.
Of Vice there are divers ways of Perstringing,
Some by Stroaking, some by Swinging.
Some by Mildness, some by Fury,
'Specially when it comes to an Ignoramus Jury.
Some in grave, solid, sober Sadness,
Some in a holy Rage and Madness.
Some in learned, solemn Tables,
Some in lighter strains and Fables.
Some from an Enemy, some from a Friend,
All tending to the self same End.
Some by Stroaking, some by Swinging.
Some by Mildness, some by Fury,
'Specially when it comes to an Ignoramus Jury.
Some in grave, solid, sober Sadness,
Some in a holy Rage and Madness.
Some in learned, solemn Tables,
Some in lighter strains and Fables.
Some from an Enemy, some from a Friend,
All tending to the self same End.
'Tis a strange Spirit, that winks at all Evil,
And suffers men quietly to go to the Devil.
They can't help it, they say, and they're loath to speak,
They wish 'twere better, and their hearts do break,
But the Vessel drowns, and they won't stop the Leak.
Is this enough for Honest men to say,
To see Murder committed, and sneak away?
They'le not flownce into danger thick and thin,
'Tis best to keep in a whole Skin.
And suffers men quietly to go to the Devil.
They can't help it, they say, and they're loath to speak,
They wish 'twere better, and their hearts do break,
But the Vessel drowns, and they won't stop the Leak.
Is this enough for Honest men to say,
To see Murder committed, and sneak away?
They'le not flownce into danger thick and thin,
'Tis best to keep in a whole Skin.
Is this Right, to maintain Mine and Thine,
To go contrary to Justice, Humane or Divine?
Don't I see this plainly? Yes, I do, as bad as you make me,
And hate it too, or else the Devil take me.
Malignant Humors won't endure to be stirr'd,
A dull Jade kicks when he's Spurr'd.
Old Soars refuse to be Launcht,
'Tis pain for twisted Guts to be Pauncht.
To go contrary to Justice, Humane or Divine?
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And hate it too, or else the Devil take me.
Malignant Humors won't endure to be stirr'd,
A dull Jade kicks when he's Spurr'd.
Old Soars refuse to be Launcht,
'Tis pain for twisted Guts to be Pauncht.
I censure my own, and all other mens Sins,
And lay, as for Vermine, strong Traps and Gins,
(That's more than pricking with Needles and Pins.)
All in good earnest, though by a kind of Rhiming,
Party-per-Pale, betwixt Ringing and Chiming,
Variety of Changes not exactly Timing.
Sometimes downright, sometimes contrary,
According as my poor Wits chance to vary,
'Tis better than to scum Cream, or Churn in my Dairy.
And lay, as for Vermine, strong Traps and Gins,
(That's more than pricking with Needles and Pins.)
All in good earnest, though by a kind of Rhiming,
Party-per-Pale, betwixt Ringing and Chiming,
Variety of Changes not exactly Timing.
Sometimes downright, sometimes contrary,
According as my poor Wits chance to vary,
'Tis better than to scum Cream, or Churn in my Dairy.
Tho, when I speak like my self, 'tis not altogether so clean,
A Poet must do so, and all but Fools may know what I mean.
I lash hardest when I make the least noise,
And am most serious, when I play the most Toys.
'Tis true in Me, Video Meliora,
'Tis as true sequor Deteriora.
In this, you must know, I demonstrate my self,
As I am, and must be a damned Elf.
A Poet must do so, and all but Fools may know what I mean.
I lash hardest when I make the least noise,
And am most serious, when I play the most Toys.
'Tis true in Me, Video Meliora,
'Tis as true sequor Deteriora.
In this, you must know, I demonstrate my self,
As I am, and must be a damned Elf.
The dull Readers understand me not Right,
As Scholars do at the first sight.
'Tis certain, in most things I am very Tight,
And, it may be, I have hit the White.
But 'tis for your good, that I take all the Pains,
That tho I lose, you may get all the Gains.
I find Learned men are not so free,
To rebuke Sin, as you perceive me to be,
If they do well in this, Judge ye.
As Scholars do at the first sight.
'Tis certain, in most things I am very Tight,
And, it may be, I have hit the White.
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That tho I lose, you may get all the Gains.
I find Learned men are not so free,
To rebuke Sin, as you perceive me to be,
If they do well in this, Judge ye.
They are shy and fearful, that's plain,
Of losing their Friends, Honour and Gain.
This is no true Honesty I'le maintain,
I, tho a Witch, am of a Nobler strain.
This is enough to convince Connivance,
And this is the Reason of my Contrivance.
For a Maiden Fancy this may fly,
But the Devil a Maid am I.
The World is grown to the height of all Evil,
When none dare to tax Sin, but a Witch or a Devil.
Of losing their Friends, Honour and Gain.
This is no true Honesty I'le maintain,
I, tho a Witch, am of a Nobler strain.
This is enough to convince Connivance,
And this is the Reason of my Contrivance.
For a Maiden Fancy this may fly,
But the Devil a Maid am I.
The World is grown to the height of all Evil,
When none dare to tax Sin, but a Witch or a Devil.
'Tis very inexcusable therefore, you see,
Hypocrisie in the highest Degree.
Sure all sorts of Vices in heaps lye Ram'd,
When both Wise and Fools are not afraid to be Damn'd.
'Tis an excellent Witches Observation,
Incorrigibility destroys a Nation.
The Prophane kind in their shame run on,
While the Better sort stand and look on.
Hypocrisie in the highest Degree.
Sure all sorts of Vices in heaps lye Ram'd,
When both Wise and Fools are not afraid to be Damn'd.
'Tis an excellent Witches Observation,
Incorrigibility destroys a Nation.
The Prophane kind in their shame run on,
While the Better sort stand and look on.
What call you this, but perfect Collusion?
In some Body, and whither tends it, but to Confusion?
That which they hate, they that sit in the Chair,
To suppress, take no Care.
How then is it likely the World should well fare?
This great Fault, in my way, I don't spare.
In some Body, and whither tends it, but to Confusion?
That which they hate, they that sit in the Chair,
To suppress, take no Care.
How then is it likely the World should well fare?
This great Fault, in my way, I don't spare.
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It may be I have suffered long,
For doing Right, before I did Wrong.
Therefore to Chide the rude Throng,
I make this the burden of my Song.
I wish the World were better grown,
And I wish my self better, but the Fault's my own.
Therefore 'tis others I bemoan,
That for themselves never fetcht the least Groan.
For doing Right, before I did Wrong.
Therefore to Chide the rude Throng,
I make this the burden of my Song.
I wish the World were better grown,
And I wish my self better, but the Fault's my own.
Therefore 'tis others I bemoan,
That for themselves never fetcht the least Groan.
If you will understand me, I make Protestation,
My plain meaning in this Execration,
Is, of all that's base, a full Detestation.
To Purge out every Spring and Fall,
A Lawless Distemper that's Epidemical.
As for Law, my Genius ever led me that way,
But I could never endure to be hang'd by 't, I say,
When greater Rogues scape, I count it foul Play.
My plain meaning in this Execration,
Is, of all that's base, a full Detestation.
To Purge out every Spring and Fall,
A Lawless Distemper that's Epidemical.
As for Law, my Genius ever led me that way,
But I could never endure to be hang'd by 't, I say,
When greater Rogues scape, I count it foul Play.
As for Philosophick Fools,
I ever found fault with their two edged Tools,
But I am not an Enemy to Schools.
Gray Gravity it self can well beteam,
That Language be adapted to the Theme.
He that to Parrots speaks, must Parrotize,
He that instructs Fools, may act the Unwise.
When States dishevel, and Laws untwist,
Wise men hold their Tongues, Fools speak what they list.
I ever found fault with their two edged Tools,
But I am not an Enemy to Schools.
Gray Gravity it self can well beteam,
That Language be adapted to the Theme.
He that to Parrots speaks, must Parrotize,
He that instructs Fools, may act the Unwise.
When States dishevel, and Laws untwist,
Wise men hold their Tongues, Fools speak what they list.
Si Natura negat, facit Indignatio Versum,
Qualemcunque potest, 'Tis no Sin to rehearse 'um:
O these horrid Rebel Dogs.
That Kennel with Toads and Frogs;
In stinking Dykes, and Fenny Bogs,
Will stir to Honesty no more than Logs.
He that lets sly among that Tribe,
Is rail'd and ball'd at o're the World so wide,
And every Varlet on his back shall ride.
Qualemcunque potest, 'Tis no Sin to rehearse 'um:
O these horrid Rebel Dogs.
That Kennel with Toads and Frogs;
In stinking Dykes, and Fenny Bogs,
Will stir to Honesty no more than Logs.
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Is rail'd and ball'd at o're the World so wide,
And every Varlet on his back shall ride.
They may do all that's bloody and base,
And no body dares tell it to their Face.
They shall smite Honest men, hip and thigh,
Strangers, Friends, Neighbours and Standers by,
But no body must offer to say, Black's their Eye.
All sorts of deadly railing Notes,
And Curses belch from their poys'nous Throats.
And no body dares tell it to their Face.
They shall smite Honest men, hip and thigh,
Strangers, Friends, Neighbours and Standers by,
But no body must offer to say, Black's their Eye.
All sorts of deadly railing Notes,
And Curses belch from their poys'nous Throats.
Plund'ring, Hanging, all sorts of Undoing,
Are Virtues, while the Good Cause is a going.
By Yea and Nay, in a word,
They can do all things by the Sword.
But if the just Law pinch 'um, they cry and roar at such Rates,
As if no less than Hannibal were at the Gates,
The Wicked undo the godly Mates.
Are Virtues, while the Good Cause is a going.
By Yea and Nay, in a word,
They can do all things by the Sword.
But if the just Law pinch 'um, they cry and roar at such Rates,
As if no less than Hannibal were at the Gates,
The Wicked undo the godly Mates.
The only way to cure this Distemper,
Is for Justice to watch and catch them Semper.
Or else they are such cross, implacable things,
And carry such deadly Venom in their Stings,
That they will ruine Priests, Nobles and Kings.
No wonder then, if poor Poets they kill,
That of great Princes have had their Will.
Devils in Dark act against Right,
And appear Angels in Light,
All things are carried by Favour, Malice, and Might.
Is for Justice to watch and catch them Semper.
Or else they are such cross, implacable things,
And carry such deadly Venom in their Stings,
That they will ruine Priests, Nobles and Kings.
No wonder then, if poor Poets they kill,
That of great Princes have had their Will.
Devils in Dark act against Right,
And appear Angels in Light,
All things are carried by Favour, Malice, and Might.
He that rebukes Sin knows to what he must trust,
That is, to be Persecuted and Curst;
For my part I'm bad enough, let 'um do their worst.
I confess, for this Office, Innocents may Rue,
But the Comfort is, they are Honest and True.
But they that hate 'um and hurt 'um, are damnably Base,
And so I shall boldly tell 'um to their Face.
That is, to be Persecuted and Curst;
For my part I'm bad enough, let 'um do their worst.
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But the Comfort is, they are Honest and True.
But they that hate 'um and hurt 'um, are damnably Base,
And so I shall boldly tell 'um to their Face.
He that sooths, cringes, and collogues,
Gets all the Honour, and all the Vogues.
I confess, they may object against my Life,
But against my Doctrine, they can have no Strife.
Ovid's Muse was a Chast Madona,
Lasciva est Pagina vita Bona.
This is all they can say, 'tis a Witch that does scold,
But 'tis against all sorts of Knaves, young and old,
And, perhaps, none but a Witch durst be so bold.
Others, 'tis plain, are between hot and cold,
And are afraid of losing their Gold.
Gets all the Honour, and all the Vogues.
I confess, they may object against my Life,
But against my Doctrine, they can have no Strife.
Ovid's Muse was a Chast Madona,
Lasciva est Pagina vita Bona.
This is all they can say, 'tis a Witch that does scold,
But 'tis against all sorts of Knaves, young and old,
And, perhaps, none but a Witch durst be so bold.
Others, 'tis plain, are between hot and cold,
And are afraid of losing their Gold.
You may be corrupt, and you may be pure,
Let them alone, and they'l let you alone be sure.
So you may both quietly march into Hell,
By that means all will be well.
Still, 'tis the same thing, to rebuke Evil,
Be it done, by Saint, Witch or Devil.
Let them alone, and they'l let you alone be sure.
So you may both quietly march into Hell,
By that means all will be well.
Still, 'tis the same thing, to rebuke Evil,
Be it done, by Saint, Witch or Devil.
If you be good, I have nothing to say,
But praise you for taking the Right way:
But if you choose the Cause that is Evil,
I'm ready to post you headlong to the Devil.
Never stand, Shall I, shall I, railing or bawling,
Let every one follow his honest Calling.
'Tis my duty, tho a wicked Preacher,
To strike at every false Over-reacher.
But praise you for taking the Right way:
But if you choose the Cause that is Evil,
I'm ready to post you headlong to the Devil.
Never stand, Shall I, shall I, railing or bawling,
Let every one follow his honest Calling.
'Tis my duty, tho a wicked Preacher,
To strike at every false Over-reacher.
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Tho I fail, yet be you Just and True,
To be sure I shall have my due.
Is't any hurt for me, that am Bad, to wish you better?
I may be a Knave and a good Bone-Setter.
You may Rail at me, as you have begun,
But what has the honest Poet done.
Does he speak his own Words, or Mine?
Why do ye abuse him then for every Line?
To be sure I shall have my due.
Is't any hurt for me, that am Bad, to wish you better?
I may be a Knave and a good Bone-Setter.
You may Rail at me, as you have begun,
But what has the honest Poet done.
Does he speak his own Words, or Mine?
Why do ye abuse him then for every Line?
Tax him for his life, if you can or dare,
The best of you with him compare
But because you can't, at his Fame you dart,
The Devil, one day, will split you for't.
The Devil, one day, will give you a Fair Ring,
And hang you up at the Cross called Charing.
A Company of leud Hectors, that ne're did good,
But always delighted in innocent Blood.
To abuse and undo every Honest man,
Endure it, that endure it can.
The best of you with him compare
But because you can't, at his Fame you dart,
The Devil, one day, will split you for't.
The Devil, one day, will give you a Fair Ring,
And hang you up at the Cross called Charing.
A Company of leud Hectors, that ne're did good,
But always delighted in innocent Blood.
To abuse and undo every Honest man,
Endure it, that endure it can.
This moves me to take their part,
That are fairly wrong'd and griev'd at Heart.
For others Sins, and their own Harms,
This forces me to make use of my Charms:
And to plague those that do them Wrong,
This is the burden of my Song.
That are fairly wrong'd and griev'd at Heart.
For others Sins, and their own Harms,
This forces me to make use of my Charms:
And to plague those that do them Wrong,
This is the burden of my Song.
What a Nest is there of Rogues and Whores,
That turn all Honest men out of Doors?
When none take their part, In come We,
To revenge all their Injury.
We'l hurt no Innocents, of honest Profession,
But aim at the Men of all sorts of Transgression.
I've done so much harm to good Men in my days,
I'm resolv'd now to secure them and their Praise.
That turn all Honest men out of Doors?
When none take their part, In come We,
To revenge all their Injury.
We'l hurt no Innocents, of honest Profession,
But aim at the Men of all sorts of Transgression.
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I'm resolv'd now to secure them and their Praise.
I do confess my self to blame,
For being a Witch, I deserve the Name:
But for those that use Paints,
Act Rogues, and profess Saints,
And of Hypocrisie will endure no Complaints.
I tell you, I cannot abhor them enough,
That are more than Law or Conscience Proof,
In Hell, there can be no worse Stuff.
For being a Witch, I deserve the Name:
But for those that use Paints,
Act Rogues, and profess Saints,
And of Hypocrisie will endure no Complaints.
I tell you, I cannot abhor them enough,
That are more than Law or Conscience Proof,
In Hell, there can be no worse Stuff.
I confess, I'm by force to Witchcraft confin'd,
But they to all Villany are freely inclin'd.
Goodness often comes in my mind,
And to good Men I love to be kind.
But they will neither be good in themselves,
Nor suffer others to be good. What worser Elves?
The Devils and We are already damn'd,
And hook in others with them to be sham'd,
For fear Hell should not be sufficiently cram'd.
But they to all Villany are freely inclin'd.
Goodness often comes in my mind,
And to good Men I love to be kind.
But they will neither be good in themselves,
Nor suffer others to be good. What worser Elves?
The Devils and We are already damn'd,
And hook in others with them to be sham'd,
For fear Hell should not be sufficiently cram'd.
In this, I'm sure, I do well,
To save as many as I can from coming to Hell.
Especially to avoid this Gainsaying,
That Men should go to the Devil by Praying,
The same with, In Frost and Snow to go a Maying.
I very well find the danger I am in,
That can't repent me of my Sin.
This makes me the more earnest to study to save,
If I could, every Incorrigible Slave.
To save as many as I can from coming to Hell.
Especially to avoid this Gainsaying,
That Men should go to the Devil by Praying,
The same with, In Frost and Snow to go a Maying.
I very well find the danger I am in,
That can't repent me of my Sin.
This makes me the more earnest to study to save,
If I could, every Incorrigible Slave.
I can baseness more to the life express,
Than they that use it nevertheless.
Because, I know, I give my Mind,
To fetch up those that lag behind.
Of all Vice I have ta'ne the true scent,
More than those that never Repent;
To turn them into the Right way,
Which they wilfully pass by every day.
Than they that use it nevertheless.
182
To fetch up those that lag behind.
Of all Vice I have ta'ne the true scent,
More than those that never Repent;
To turn them into the Right way,
Which they wilfully pass by every day.
We are better natured than Fiends,
'Cause to Mankind we are better Friends.
I may have as Wise, and as Honest Desires,
And kindle as Zealous Fires
As those that hang out a Fairer Sign,
But never sell good Beer, or Wine.
I could find in my heart, to break the Devils Score,
And hurt Honest Men, no more.
'Cause to Mankind we are better Friends.
I may have as Wise, and as Honest Desires,
And kindle as Zealous Fires
As those that hang out a Fairer Sign,
But never sell good Beer, or Wine.
I could find in my heart, to break the Devils Score,
And hurt Honest Men, no more.
Every Single, Simple Imp,
Shews himself, so much in the Crimp,
As to Act Monk, and Play the Pimp.
Unus Invenit, Alius Pinxit,
Unus Cacavit, Alius Minxit.
You'l say, I use Ribaldry, Roaring, and Ranting,
Poetick, Philosophick Canting;
But to Blaspheme or be Profane,
I tell you I abhor that Strain.
Shews himself, so much in the Crimp,
As to Act Monk, and Play the Pimp.
Unus Invenit, Alius Pinxit,
Unus Cacavit, Alius Minxit.
You'l say, I use Ribaldry, Roaring, and Ranting,
Poetick, Philosophick Canting;
But to Blaspheme or be Profane,
I tell you I abhor that Strain.
Tho I be out Nettle, and in Dock,
You shall ne're find me at that Lock,
I'le be sure to leap over that Block.
I may, and do, act several Parts,
And Counterfeit in several Arts.
But I have no Ill meaning to Beguile,
Stab under the fifth Rib with a Smile,
But to find out, and describe a Knave all the while.
You shall ne're find me at that Lock,
I'le be sure to leap over that Block.
I may, and do, act several Parts,
And Counterfeit in several Arts.
But I have no Ill meaning to Beguile,
Stab under the fifth Rib with a Smile,
But to find out, and describe a Knave all the while.
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The Honest man, I take his part,
Because I love him at my Heart,
Because I know he will never start.
The greatest Villains, Low and High,
Can't but admire, love and fear Honesty.
Yet they're so base to do all the harm they can,
To the True, Honest, Harmless man.
Because I love him at my Heart,
Because I know he will never start.
The greatest Villains, Low and High,
Can't but admire, love and fear Honesty.
Yet they're so base to do all the harm they can,
To the True, Honest, Harmless man.
Now this is the way that loaths me so much,
For which I bear them all this Grutch:
And when I can handsomly upon 'um light,
I long to do 'um all despight,
And it shall be cunningly out of sight.
None can deal so well, nor be so Tight,
As We, to be reveng'd of Malice and Might.
For which I bear them all this Grutch:
And when I can handsomly upon 'um light,
I long to do 'um all despight,
And it shall be cunningly out of sight.
None can deal so well, nor be so Tight,
As We, to be reveng'd of Malice and Might.
When Clocks want Keepers, and Dyals want Light,
All goes by guess, whither Wrong or Right.
Seldom blind Archers hit the White,
The Informer and Hangman have took their flight.
A Wise man may wear a Fools Coat,
An Honest man may be left not worth a Groat.
He that speaks Truth shall lie in his Throat.
If as Chast as Diana you're call'd a leud Goat,
If Wise as Pallas, they'l say you Doat.
A grave Musician may play a light Note,
If you be a Lamb, they'l cut your Throat.
All goes by guess, whither Wrong or Right.
Seldom blind Archers hit the White,
The Informer and Hangman have took their flight.
A Wise man may wear a Fools Coat,
An Honest man may be left not worth a Groat.
He that speaks Truth shall lie in his Throat.
If as Chast as Diana you're call'd a leud Goat,
If Wise as Pallas, they'l say you Doat.
A grave Musician may play a light Note,
If you be a Lamb, they'l cut your Throat.
If this be all the fault you can find,
'Tis to rebuke Sin, you know my mind,
Every thing must be serv'd in its kind.
You're a degree from the Devil remov'd,
If you once hate to be reprov'd.
'Tis a sign you will never be good,
That vomit and belch out Dirt and Mud.
'Tis to rebuke Sin, you know my mind,
Every thing must be serv'd in its kind.
You're a degree from the Devil remov'd,
If you once hate to be reprov'd.
'Tis a sign you will never be good,
That vomit and belch out Dirt and Mud.
184
The crazy World will crack in all its middle Joynts,
When both ends want their Parapoints.
Say what you will, In tolâ Naturâ rerum,
Nil Justè prohibet dicere Verum.
When both ends want their Parapoints.
Say what you will, In tolâ Naturâ rerum,
Nil Justè prohibet dicere Verum.
When all is done, except Truth may command,
I know not how the World can stand.
Then Reader, I'le allow you a Bushel of Malt,
If you'l but afford me one grain of Salt.
In short, I say to every Ignoramus Reader,
From the Plow-Jogger to the Bar-Pleader,
Let them follow my Rules, but not me for their Leader.
I know not how the World can stand.
Then Reader, I'le allow you a Bushel of Malt,
If you'l but afford me one grain of Salt.
In short, I say to every Ignoramus Reader,
From the Plow-Jogger to the Bar-Pleader,
Let them follow my Rules, but not me for their Leader.
Busie Momus Fumes and Swears,
Rhimes fall together by the Ears,
We shall ne're want Jealousies and Fears.
I say, when the true Sense will bear it,
Verse runs on all Fours, never fear it.
But when the Cabal to carry double is cross,
Then the Jade must be forc't to Joss,
Rather than the Sense be at a loss.
Rhimes fall together by the Ears,
We shall ne're want Jealousies and Fears.
I say, when the true Sense will bear it,
Verse runs on all Fours, never fear it.
But when the Cabal to carry double is cross,
Then the Jade must be forc't to Joss,
Rather than the Sense be at a loss.
The Dancing Poetaster takes pleasure,
To traverse the Stage in exact measure:
But they that Buskin it in a Dram,
Reckon strict Numbers but a Sham.
Apothegms, Proverbs croud in now and then,
Sophists and Legists bring in their Men.
To do good Service other while,
Upon occasion, out of Rank and File.
So they use to Advance and Sally,
March close, after a Rout, Rally,
In heat of Fight, not stand shall I, shall I.
To traverse the Stage in exact measure:
But they that Buskin it in a Dram,
Reckon strict Numbers but a Sham.
Apothegms, Proverbs croud in now and then,
Sophists and Legists bring in their Men.
To do good Service other while,
Upon occasion, out of Rank and File.
So they use to Advance and Sally,
March close, after a Rout, Rally,
In heat of Fight, not stand shall I, shall I.
185
No strict Commission for Orders to wait,
The Fish is gone while you change the Bait.
In Mood and Figure, Declension and Tense,
Logicians and Criticks commence,
Prerogative makes just Defence.
Rhimers are more than common Greges,
Poetæ sunt Syllabarum REGES.
The Fish is gone while you change the Bait.
In Mood and Figure, Declension and Tense,
Logicians and Criticks commence,
Prerogative makes just Defence.
Rhimers are more than common Greges,
Poetæ sunt Syllabarum REGES.
My unconfined Muse disdains,
Like a Slave, to be led in Fetters and Chains.
Her Verse suppos'd to run the sweeter,
When not clog'd with all Four-footed Meeter.
But some are well pleas'd neither full nor fasting,
Always over, or under-casting,
Whose Judgments are never long lasting.
Like a Slave, to be led in Fetters and Chains.
Her Verse suppos'd to run the sweeter,
When not clog'd with all Four-footed Meeter.
But some are well pleas'd neither full nor fasting,
Always over, or under-casting,
Whose Judgments are never long lasting.
Some Wits are never known to thrive,
Never pleas'd, dead nor alive.
In their Coffins they lye sullen,
Because they lye scrubbing in Woollen.
Some in their Graves, Riggle and Jiggle,
'Cause Boys and Girls o're them Laugh and Giggle.
Others dogged, Mutter and Grumble,
'Cause on their Turfs Children Play and Tumble.
Never pleas'd, dead nor alive.
In their Coffins they lye sullen,
Because they lye scrubbing in Woollen.
Some in their Graves, Riggle and Jiggle,
'Cause Boys and Girls o're them Laugh and Giggle.
Others dogged, Mutter and Grumble,
'Cause on their Turfs Children Play and Tumble.
But false Envies, endless Abuses,
Can't supersede my Just Excuses.
Sometimes I may tread a false Step,
Over a Slough I may give a Leap.
I do not Botch'or Patch a Rhime,
Hook in a Phrase to keep Time.
Can't supersede my Just Excuses.
Sometimes I may tread a false Step,
Over a Slough I may give a Leap.
I do not Botch'or Patch a Rhime,
Hook in a Phrase to keep Time.
Dramaticks in their Tragick Pride,
Scorn to Numbers to be ty'd.
In my Verse here and there a Notch,
Rather than stitch it up with a Botch.
A Poem ought to run as smooth in Reading,
As a Lawyers Bill in Pleading,
A Poet must not always be kneading.
Scorn to Numbers to be ty'd.
186
Rather than stitch it up with a Botch.
A Poem ought to run as smooth in Reading,
As a Lawyers Bill in Pleading,
A Poet must not always be kneading.
Some handsom Molds are soonest cast,
By a kind of careless Hast.
Sometimes the more Care, the more Wast,
Festina lentè, all so fast.
The greatest Stirrings cause most Bubbles,
Sudden Inventions raise least Troubles.
By a kind of careless Hast.
Sometimes the more Care, the more Wast,
Festina lentè, all so fast.
The greatest Stirrings cause most Bubbles,
Sudden Inventions raise least Troubles.
I read in curious Verse and Prose,
(Be it spoke under the Rose.)
Very small Learning, but great Fame,
Meerly for the Author's Name.
O you Dunce, down with your Hose,
You deserve a whipt Britch, and a bloody Nose.
(Be it spoke under the Rose.)
Very small Learning, but great Fame,
Meerly for the Author's Name.
O you Dunce, down with your Hose,
You deserve a whipt Britch, and a bloody Nose.
Dare you abuse in bald Rhimes,
The glorious Wits of the Times?
I understand better things, ye Slaves,
I fall on none but Fools and Knaves.
I tell you, I am something Nice,
Choose Authors, not Florid, but Wise.
The glorious Wits of the Times?
I understand better things, ye Slaves,
I fall on none but Fools and Knaves.
I tell you, I am something Nice,
Choose Authors, not Florid, but Wise.
A sleekt Oration, a starcht Story,
Of Tom Trincalo, or John Dory;
Begets Attention at an Act,
No Right, all matter of Fact.
Scholars that in Arts commence,
Courted by Harlot Eloquence,
Great Wits for want of Wit flatter,
Fucus of Words without Matter,
I'de as lieve hear a Magpy Chatter.
Of Tom Trincalo, or John Dory;
Begets Attention at an Act,
No Right, all matter of Fact.
Scholars that in Arts commence,
Courted by Harlot Eloquence,
187
Fucus of Words without Matter,
I'de as lieve hear a Magpy Chatter.
One thing more makes Momus Frown,
He says, I cry the Clergy down.
He is a Rogue for saying so,
To their Scandals I am a Foe.
Their Strife, Riot, Blood and Pride,
Rebellion, Covetousness I can't abide.
That would be Infallibly Supreme,
This is the meaning of my Theme.
In Councils hardly can agree,
Act most by Rigor and Aspertee;
Truly, these are no Clerks for me.
He says, I cry the Clergy down.
He is a Rogue for saying so,
To their Scandals I am a Foe.
Their Strife, Riot, Blood and Pride,
Rebellion, Covetousness I can't abide.
That would be Infallibly Supreme,
This is the meaning of my Theme.
In Councils hardly can agree,
Act most by Rigor and Aspertee;
Truly, these are no Clerks for me.
Presbyter Jack prays and preaches Harty,
Rebels, and calls Self the Godly Party.
The Old Clergy for Ignorance and Pride,
Nobles and Gentry are laid aside.
Rebels, and calls Self the Godly Party.
The Old Clergy for Ignorance and Pride,
Nobles and Gentry are laid aside.
The gallant Independent wins the Crown,
Prays, Preaches, fights the Presbyter down.
Then comes the Ship-shop-man and Petty-Fogger,
The Praying, Holding-forth Plow-Jogger.
Mov'd by Enthusiastick Call,
Out Prays, out Preaches, out Fights 'um all.
Prays, Preaches, fights the Presbyter down.
Then comes the Ship-shop-man and Petty-Fogger,
The Praying, Holding-forth Plow-Jogger.
Mov'd by Enthusiastick Call,
Out Prays, out Preaches, out Fights 'um all.
Such Cattel are Feræ Naturæ,
Disturb 'um and they'l ne're endure ye.
I loath such Clerks as are never good,
Preach up Rebellion and Blood.
A Mongrel Clergy that basely Flatter,
Do any thing for a Two-peny Matter,
These are the Men I bespatter.
Disturb 'um and they'l ne're endure ye.
I loath such Clerks as are never good,
Preach up Rebellion and Blood.
A Mongrel Clergy that basely Flatter,
Do any thing for a Two-peny Matter,
These are the Men I bespatter.
188
Hedge Priests, that dare strike the Marriage stroak,
'Twixt Brother and Sister under an Oak.
In Parlors, Barns, Stables, pray and prate,
Undermining Church and State,
These are the Vermin I so much Hate.
Creepers into Courts and Shops,
Greazing their Fists, Cramming their Chops.
In any thing, be't ne're so Ill,
They are ready to do your Will.
'Twixt Brother and Sister under an Oak.
In Parlors, Barns, Stables, pray and prate,
Undermining Church and State,
These are the Vermin I so much Hate.
Creepers into Courts and Shops,
Greazing their Fists, Cramming their Chops.
In any thing, be't ne're so Ill,
They are ready to do your Will.
But O, the Learned, Pious Tribe,
Scorn to Flatter or take Bribe.
These were ever in my Books,
The rest, from me, have had wry Looks.
A Clergy Elf I e're did hate,
May the True Priests live in state.
Scorn to Flatter or take Bribe.
These were ever in my Books,
The rest, from me, have had wry Looks.
A Clergy Elf I e're did hate,
May the True Priests live in state.
Those that are of Princely Spirits,
That act Gentily; Their rare Merits
Deserve to Teach, deserve to Rule,
The rest I count but Ridicule.
The Learned Clergy I adore,
Honour and Wealth become them more,
Than other Men, on the same score.
That act Gentily; Their rare Merits
Deserve to Teach, deserve to Rule,
The rest I count but Ridicule.
The Learned Clergy I adore,
Honour and Wealth become them more,
Than other Men, on the same score.
Sure, Long suffering by Foul Play,
Hath drove me to this Angry Way,
And now I'm in, I can hardly stay.
Primitive Saints did Preach and Pray,
In homely Cells, out of Harms way.
'Till the Age of Constantine,
The Clergy were Learned and Divine,
They never broke this Heart of mine:
Hath drove me to this Angry Way,
And now I'm in, I can hardly stay.
Primitive Saints did Preach and Pray,
In homely Cells, out of Harms way.
'Till the Age of Constantine,
The Clergy were Learned and Divine,
They never broke this Heart of mine:
189
Who thought 'twould e're be the Priests Doom,
To Lord it in Imperial Rome?
The Emperor was High Priest, but since,
The Priest is Emperor and Prince.
Senatus, Populus Romanus,
Sunt Clerus hodiè Insanus.
To Lord it in Imperial Rome?
The Emperor was High Priest, but since,
The Priest is Emperor and Prince.
Senatus, Populus Romanus,
Sunt Clerus hodiè Insanus.
Did ever Clerks till then aspire,
'Bove Crowned Heads to advance higher?
How came it into their Bald Pates,
From rich Death Beds to screw Estates?
How came they first to cheat Wise Nations,
With Purgatories and Transubstantiations?
'Bove Crowned Heads to advance higher?
How came it into their Bald Pates,
From rich Death Beds to screw Estates?
How came they first to cheat Wise Nations,
With Purgatories and Transubstantiations?
D'ye think the Church can ever stand,
When such wild Freaks the World command?
Brave Princes gull'd by Nasty Fryars,
Whose Brats sit at other Mens Fires.
That choose to lead such lazy Lives,
With Concubines, not lawful Wives.
Their Frantick Orders and Institutions,
Are Nurseries of all Confusions.
When such wild Freaks the World command?
Brave Princes gull'd by Nasty Fryars,
Whose Brats sit at other Mens Fires.
That choose to lead such lazy Lives,
With Concubines, not lawful Wives.
Their Frantick Orders and Institutions,
Are Nurseries of all Confusions.
Trust them with Power and Wealth, when warm,
You'l find they'l stick not to do all harm.
Lawyers have much improv'd their Parts,
But Clergy have outstript all Arts.
Others are Ideots, if you mind 'um,
The Virtuoso shall come behind 'um.
What Matchiavels have they not cheated?
What Policies have they not defeated?
You'l find they'l stick not to do all harm.
Lawyers have much improv'd their Parts,
But Clergy have outstript all Arts.
Others are Ideots, if you mind 'um,
The Virtuoso shall come behind 'um.
What Matchiavels have they not cheated?
What Policies have they not defeated?
To tell Truth, I have been plaguily vext,
They first turn'd me beside my Text.
I compounded then to please my Mind,
After I took all Learning in kind.
But that I might not be at Loss,
I divided the Pure from the Dross,
Yet still came home by Weeping Cross.
As all must, that with them ha' to do,
To no purpose to throw an Old Shoe.
They first turn'd me beside my Text.
190
After I took all Learning in kind.
But that I might not be at Loss,
I divided the Pure from the Dross,
Yet still came home by Weeping Cross.
As all must, that with them ha' to do,
To no purpose to throw an Old Shoe.
Yet those that did me vex and teaze,
Occasioned my Souls Ease.
I resolv'd upon Virtues Praise,
And to condemn Vice always.
So they that weakned me all along,
Against their Wills have made me strong,
By discerning 'twixt Right and Wrong.
Occasioned my Souls Ease.
I resolv'd upon Virtues Praise,
And to condemn Vice always.
So they that weakned me all along,
Against their Wills have made me strong,
By discerning 'twixt Right and Wrong.
And now I soar above their Heads,
In Triumph; they in shame go to their Beds.
Better to Give, than to Receive,
Better be Cheated, than to Deceive.
Put to the Fret by Friar Dominick,
No wonder I prov'd a little Cynick.
Taken and kept upon Suspicion,
Doz'd me in the Spanish Inquisition.
In Triumph; they in shame go to their Beds.
Better to Give, than to Receive,
Better be Cheated, than to Deceive.
Put to the Fret by Friar Dominick,
No wonder I prov'd a little Cynick.
Taken and kept upon Suspicion,
Doz'd me in the Spanish Inquisition.
The High Commission and the Doom,
Darted from the Starry Room,
Had like to a plung'd me to my Tomb.
These were design'd for Knaves; but now and then,
Abuses fell upon Honest men.
Darted from the Starry Room,
Had like to a plung'd me to my Tomb.
These were design'd for Knaves; but now and then,
Abuses fell upon Honest men.
He that abounds in Sense Divine,
Shall never stick at Thine or Mine.
He that sits on the Triple Shelf,
Shall be an Oracle to himself.
Learning and Laws must from him spring,
A Priest, a Prophet, Lord and King:
And all must shrowd under his Wing,
But let 'um watch his deadly Sting.
Shall never stick at Thine or Mine.
He that sits on the Triple Shelf,
Shall be an Oracle to himself.
191
A Priest, a Prophet, Lord and King:
And all must shrowd under his Wing,
But let 'um watch his deadly Sting.
Power and Wit must gladly buckle,
Honour and Wealth under him truckle.
The Private and the Publick State,
Temporal and Eternal Fate,
Must hang at such Mens Girdles; their bare Nods,
Are more than Princes Frowns or Rods.
Honour and Wealth under him truckle.
The Private and the Publick State,
Temporal and Eternal Fate,
Must hang at such Mens Girdles; their bare Nods,
Are more than Princes Frowns or Rods.
A Curse, or causeless Execration,
Staggers and Thunderbolts a Nation.
Towns, Cities, Kingdoms sore Afflicted.
From Sacred Things Interdicted.
'Tis more than Exile, Mines, or Slaughter,
Or Interdiction of Fire and Water.
Staggers and Thunderbolts a Nation.
Towns, Cities, Kingdoms sore Afflicted.
From Sacred Things Interdicted.
'Tis more than Exile, Mines, or Slaughter,
Or Interdiction of Fire and Water.
Momus says, I take too much to be a Writer,
That am no better than an old Sheep-Biter,
Therefore, 'tis just for all Scholars to slight her.
Sirrah, Cockscomb, Jackanapes, Fool,
Take heed of medling with an Edg'd Tool,
I'le set Thousands such as you to School.
A Company of ugly Mongrel Currs,
To bark at a Lady in her Silks and Furrs,
And let a Lord scape in his Golden Spurrs.
That am no better than an old Sheep-Biter,
Therefore, 'tis just for all Scholars to slight her.
Sirrah, Cockscomb, Jackanapes, Fool,
Take heed of medling with an Edg'd Tool,
I'le set Thousands such as you to School.
A Company of ugly Mongrel Currs,
To bark at a Lady in her Silks and Furrs,
And let a Lord scape in his Golden Spurrs.
Every Mothers Son of Hobgoblin or Fairy,
A scorn to Sluts of the Kitchin or Dairy,
I'le fetch you over with a Certiorari.
I'le set an old Petty-fogger or Parson,
To Indite you for Barretre or Arson,
Too him, too him, O brave Garson.
I'le make him Skice under the Whores Red,
His Mother, and not dare to shew his Head,
Teach him to offer a Hen of the Game to Tread.
A scorn to Sluts of the Kitchin or Dairy,
I'le fetch you over with a Certiorari.
I'le set an old Petty-fogger or Parson,
To Indite you for Barretre or Arson,
Too him, too him, O brave Garson.
192
His Mother, and not dare to shew his Head,
Teach him to offer a Hen of the Game to Tread.
Dogs, tho I be a Witch by Profession,
Let me alone in my Honest Digression.
Put up your dirty Libels and Packets,
Or else I'le let fly at your Thred-bare Jackets.
Now ye have put me into this angry Mood,
I'm resolv'd to Rail, as long as Railing is good.
And now y' have teiz'd me so and so,
I'le drive the Nail as far as it will go.
Let me alone in my Honest Digression.
Put up your dirty Libels and Packets,
Or else I'le let fly at your Thred-bare Jackets.
Now ye have put me into this angry Mood,
I'm resolv'd to Rail, as long as Railing is good.
And now y' have teiz'd me so and so,
I'le drive the Nail as far as it will go.
Tho I be a Witch, 'tis true, yet 'tis my Resolution,
To bring all the Rogues I can to Execution.
I'le leave this Manifesto to all Ages hereafter,
I love Vertue, tho I'm a Witch and a Witches Daughter,
That was fairly hung upon Tyburn's Rafter.
To bring all the Rogues I can to Execution.
I'le leave this Manifesto to all Ages hereafter,
I love Vertue, tho I'm a Witch and a Witches Daughter,
That was fairly hung upon Tyburn's Rafter.
The Clergy rarely hang together,
Never endure Wind nor Weather.
Often distracted by a Feather,
Their Shoes made much of Running Leather.
Linsy-Woolsy are their Jumps.
More than ordinary Frumps.
They hate to think of Ropes or Burning,
Drape de Berry will hold Turning.
Never endure Wind nor Weather.
Often distracted by a Feather,
Their Shoes made much of Running Leather.
Linsy-Woolsy are their Jumps.
More than ordinary Frumps.
They hate to think of Ropes or Burning,
Drape de Berry will hold Turning.
To Rule well they ne're could get the knack,
Too oft they into Junto's pack:
Till they come into their Huffs,
And at last to Fifty Cuffs.
Play kind good Fellows, go a Foxing,
On a sudden all by the Ears a Boxing.
Too oft they into Junto's pack:
Till they come into their Huffs,
And at last to Fifty Cuffs.
Play kind good Fellows, go a Foxing,
On a sudden all by the Ears a Boxing.
193
Close Bickerings, Thwick Thwack,
All ends in a Cup of Sack.
But all this while never the more Friends,
Still every Party for his own Ends,
The Rich Laity for all must make amends.
All ends in a Cup of Sack.
But all this while never the more Friends,
Still every Party for his own Ends,
The Rich Laity for all must make amends.
Besides all this, it is their Failing,
They are strangely given to Railing,
I wish all such to New England Sayling.
Self opiniated and Proud,
Into Sects and Factions crow'd,
In Coventicles very loud.
Like Seamen and Sheep, cry One and all,
Right or Wrong to stand or fall.
They are strangely given to Railing,
I wish all such to New England Sayling.
Self opiniated and Proud,
Into Sects and Factions crow'd,
In Coventicles very loud.
Like Seamen and Sheep, cry One and all,
Right or Wrong to stand or fall.
Therefore Kings wisely, as the Case stands,
Keep all the Power in their own Hands;
For fear they should undo their Brothers,
And be the Ruine of their Mothers.
They cut them out their own Work too,
And confirm all they do.
This Policy Wise men find,
For the benefit of Mankind.
Keep all the Power in their own Hands;
For fear they should undo their Brothers,
And be the Ruine of their Mothers.
They cut them out their own Work too,
And confirm all they do.
This Policy Wise men find,
For the benefit of Mankind.
This prevents many a Flaw,
In Civil and Ecclesiastick Law.
This prevents Rebellious Heats,
And all sorts of Spiritual Cheats:
For if the Pen had its Will,
The Sword should more Blood spill.
Speak, speak all good men, Is not this true,
Excepting the Ignoramus Crew.
In Civil and Ecclesiastick Law.
This prevents Rebellious Heats,
And all sorts of Spiritual Cheats:
For if the Pen had its Will,
The Sword should more Blood spill.
Speak, speak all good men, Is not this true,
Excepting the Ignoramus Crew.
Of War, who were the Drums and Trumpets,
But Romes and Geneva's Strumpets?
Hah, who lies in Ambuscado still,
The Common-wealth would have its Will.
Down went one Royal Oak, and now another
Sprung from his Stock, is threatned, with his Brother.
But Romes and Geneva's Strumpets?
194
The Common-wealth would have its Will.
Down went one Royal Oak, and now another
Sprung from his Stock, is threatned, with his Brother.
What the same Scene in the open Sun,
Acted before this Age be half done?
So to be cheated of our Goods,
Just so, once more to lose our Bloods?
Who in the Dark make Combinations,
For Plundrings and Assassinations.
And gild all over with Evasions,
But Sectaries of all Perswasions?
Acted before this Age be half done?
So to be cheated of our Goods,
Just so, once more to lose our Bloods?
Who in the Dark make Combinations,
For Plundrings and Assassinations.
And gild all over with Evasions,
But Sectaries of all Perswasions?
I see my self so far outdone,
I see such damned Courses run,
And such counterfeit Webs spun.
To leave my Bungling Trade, I am resolv'd,
In Witchcraft ne're to be involv'd.
It must be high time to give o're,
I yield, I'le be a Witch no more.
I see such damned Courses run,
And such counterfeit Webs spun.
To leave my Bungling Trade, I am resolv'd,
In Witchcraft ne're to be involv'd.
It must be high time to give o're,
I yield, I'le be a Witch no more.
But still I own the Golden Line,
Of Clergy Learned and Divine.
To Princes fit Guides and Tutors,
Ambassadors and Prolocutors.
Companions to Potentates,
The Strength and Glory of all States.
Do ye think me blind or dull,
Senseless, or of a Fanatick Skull,
Fit to be baited by every Bull?
Of Clergy Learned and Divine.
To Princes fit Guides and Tutors,
Ambassadors and Prolocutors.
Companions to Potentates,
The Strength and Glory of all States.
Do ye think me blind or dull,
Senseless, or of a Fanatick Skull,
Fit to be baited by every Bull?
He that says, I hate the Coat,
Lies deep in his Sepulchral Throat.
Try, make 'um Judges and Arbitrators,
Specially, Heirs, Executors and Administrators.
I'le warrant 'um they shall Translate, and Convey
Vast Lordships the clean contrary way.
Scriveners are but Pingling Rats,
These are the greedy devouring Cats.
Lies deep in his Sepulchral Throat.
195
Specially, Heirs, Executors and Administrators.
I'le warrant 'um they shall Translate, and Convey
Vast Lordships the clean contrary way.
Scriveners are but Pingling Rats,
These are the greedy devouring Cats.
Flamens, Poets, Sophisticators,
Augurs, Prognosticators.
Counted Religious and Wise,
All Arts to Monopolize.
They might all be Priests and Kings,
If they would mind Honest things,
Now they prove the Devils Darlings.
Suffer Selves to be bought and sold,
Remain Dunces, young and old,
And e're will at this rate, I dare be bold.
Augurs, Prognosticators.
Counted Religious and Wise,
All Arts to Monopolize.
They might all be Priests and Kings,
If they would mind Honest things,
Now they prove the Devils Darlings.
Suffer Selves to be bought and sold,
Remain Dunces, young and old,
And e're will at this rate, I dare be bold.
Here and there you may espy
A brave Soul, neglected lye.
He is too Learn'd, and too Shamefac'd,
Too Honest, he must be disgrac'd.
Down with him, under Hatches in the Hold,
Feed him with Scraps till he be Old.
'Tis enough to make any honest Woman scold,
To scratch and tear 'um I can be bold.
A brave Soul, neglected lye.
He is too Learn'd, and too Shamefac'd,
Too Honest, he must be disgrac'd.
Down with him, under Hatches in the Hold,
Feed him with Scraps till he be Old.
'Tis enough to make any honest Woman scold,
To scratch and tear 'um I can be bold.
Tush, I'm an old doting Jade, that has no Brains,
Think I to pretend to Juvenile Strains?
I cannot now take pains.
Sirrah Dog, I'le cut all that Rag,
That dares to call me Doating Hag.
Villain, Spirits ne're grow old,
They keep their Everlasting hold.
And hadst thou Wit, thou wouldest know,
The Older, the Wiser they grow.
Think I to pretend to Juvenile Strains?
I cannot now take pains.
Sirrah Dog, I'le cut all that Rag,
That dares to call me Doating Hag.
Villain, Spirits ne're grow old,
They keep their Everlasting hold.
196
The Older, the Wiser they grow.
To try then, what with your Genius Suits,
I give you a Tast of my First-Fruits.
In hopes of your Custom, I'le give you a Spell,
Take a Cast of my Office for a Handsell.
I give you a Tast of my First-Fruits.
In hopes of your Custom, I'le give you a Spell,
Take a Cast of my Office for a Handsell.
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