Men-Miracles :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ye Mortalls (if beleife be in yee)
Come see confirm'd what's said by Pliny;
And first (for feare ye should mistake a)
Give eare unto Antoaius Daca.
With whom consents (to bring the Rime on)
A Trusty Author, Petrus Simon.
These two are back'd (in spight of Praters)
By ours and Hollands Navigators.
Now these avouch, that India beares,
Men of so vast prodigious Eares,
That sundry of them may be found,
Whose hearing-Organs sweepe the ground.

And each of these perhaps presumes,
By length of Eares to save his broomes.
Sure 'tis an uncouth sight to see some,
That sweepe their Hall without a Beesome.
Besides their Eares, as they relate,
Are of that breadth, from foote to pate,
That under each (and none descry)
Six men may (like six Eare-wiggs) lye.
'Tis pretty faire when Eares are found,
That conceale men, as ours doe sound.
Our Eares (alas) take but mens speeches,
But these take men, doublet and breeches.
The Round-head when his Eares he sees
Finds he is but an Asse to these.

Second Miracle.

But passe on Pilgrim, till thou viewst,
An Island called Honopeust.
The Mortalls there ('tis truth is sed)
Make one great Lake their Common bed:
Under whose waters they sleepe sound,
As we doe here above the ground.
They've a fine time on't, in all weather,
Mud is their downe-bed, and their Feather.

No Summer-bites these knaves abide:
Lesse Eeles and Carpes doe pinch their side.
A goodly sort of people these,
To whom the Fishes are the fleas.
A stranger wonder ne're was found,
To these to sleepe, is to be drown'd.

Third Miracle.

Art hungry Hermit? preethy tarry,
Here's the Camelion's ordinary.
See here a kinde of people haunt,
Who sundry parts of body want.
To this they doe sustaine their powers,
By th'sent of fruits, of hearbes, and Flowers.
Gregorius Garza found this too,
In divers people at Peru.
At feasts invite, (an Age scarce heard in)
These not to house, but unto Garden,
Their pallats have unheard of forces,
Our Nose-gayes are their second Courses.
No Cookes among these men are boasted,
Their Dinner growes, yes ready roasted.

Fourth Miracle.

Next Story Peter Simon ga't us,
Of John Alvarez Maldonatus.
Who passing once to New found Land,
Penny in pouch, and Sword in hand,
Did Gyants view, oft (at his leisure)
'Bout five Ells long, (yes London measure)
And one of them in humane view,
Did bravely combat, bravely slew
The Gyant (faith his Comrade Daniel)
Had face much like to Dog (call'd Spaniel.)
As he lay gasping on the hill,
His nose it was a beake (or bill)
And for his Sex, it was in sight,
Hæc Aquila, Hermaphrodite:
Now (Sirs) I grant the Pagan Poet,
Of huge Prometheus speakes, you know it,
For whose vast bulke he nothing staggers,
To say 'tis spread o're many Acres.
But know, we onely bring before yee,
A Christian writer's Gyant-story:
His ribs more wide then hoopes to ferkin,
(What Cloth must goe to make his Jerkin?)
Dogs looke, Birds beake in's face, you'l say,
Both Setting dogge, and Partridge lay.

If so, the Gyants was ill case,
Because his Nose did feare his Face.
Had that bill wings, there's none but spies,
His nose had flew away with's eyes.
And then the Dog-face left behind,
Had beene destroy'd whiles it was blind,
But John Alvarez, did not he
Kill sucking Gyants e're they see.
Nor that he slew must it be told,
A Gyant-whelpe e're nine dayes old:
'Twas-full growne Monster this, and vexes,
That Maldonatus slew both sexes.
It greives him most, in his owne life
To loose both th' Husband and the Wife.
For bulke he might be many dozens
Of Husbands, Wives, Sonnes, Daughters, Cozens.

Fifth Miracle.

As strange and Monstrous knaves as these,
Are those of whom Lycosthenes.
In each of them there is espied,
Two Armes, two hands in their right side.
Whose wives (without or wit or feare)
Doe bring forth Children twice a yeare,

Should I such a strange wonder see,
I should not thinke him man but tree.
And for his two right Armes, I vow,
Tis not a double Limbe, but bough.
Spread-Eagle fist when first he heaves,
His fingers-sprigs, his nailes seeme leaves.
Freind, I should say, I preethy hearke,
Lets feele, why sure thy skin is barke:
Thy veines convey thee Sap, not bloud.
Say dost thou not each Summer bud?
And (like Third Richard) cause not warme,
In winter hast no wither'd Arme?
Thy Children too are Garden-drafts,
They're not thy issue, but thy Grafts.

Sixth Miracle.

Like wonder doe those folke beget,
Whose Armes and hands in Thighes are set,
They thrash their backes, as 'twere with flaile.
With that they weare behind a Taile.
Their wives too out of all mistaking,
For all the world are of that making.
Unlesse they beare, they think't a crime,
Foure babes at once (well in good time)

Two of their Barnes the selfe same day,
They doe preserve, and two they slay.
For milke, their breasts so much doe beare,
It makes them Cheeses all the yeare.
Sure for these Monsters fist it growes
In thigh, that it may reach their Toes,
And (if occasion be) it may
Scratch itching Corne on Rainy day.
Or else perhaps so neare 'tis put,
Cause hand they have much like to foot.
But oh, their Taile I must allow,
As large as that of Bull or Cow;
And reason good, their wives not flit,
To yeild them as much milke as it.
These Centaure Females have strange trades,
They're both the Cowes and Dairy-Maides.
And in this monstrous Common-weale,
They doe not Children beare, but veale.
And in their Cheese (good people hearke it)
Sell halfe themselves each Monday Market.

But stay (Kings truce) I thinke on't now
These neither Women are, nor Cow.
I say nor Cow, nor Wheat, nor Mastlyn,
For Cow is sorty for her Castlyn.
But here the Teeming Monster ambles,
Not to the Nurse, but to the Shambles.

Seaventh Miracle.

Arabia (Author mine supposes)
Yeilds men with three Eyes, besides Noses.
Suppose Eyes dimme, as Mares in Flaunders.
Suppose their Noses have the Glaunders,
They'l be perplext, past all beleifes,
For Spectacles and Handchercheifes.
These men too, (yee may call them yeomen)
Have bigger breasts farre, then our women.
Then for their feet, they have no Toes,
(That saves two inches in their shooes)
They fight, and strive, from morne to Even,
(Yet sure they're not to foot-ball given.)

Eighth Miracle.

In AEthiopia, 'bout the West,
Are men with handsome feature blest.
Their fault is nearest ground, at Roote
They've but one Thigh, and but one Foot.
(Sure one of these to save his Mother
Can't set one leg before the other)
But then this foot's so broad, the Urchin,
By its shade is kept from scorching,

With Foot held up, on backe he lies,
The Sun (and all his workes) defies.
His Trade's a Jeweller, though rude,
His Gemmes Armenians buy for food.
To live two hundred yeares he's knowne,
(His Age hath two leggs, he but one)
His Wife with Child, from husband flies,
Nor knowes his bed for all his cries.
Themselves are wonders, but in sooth,
This is more wonder then they both.

Ninth Miracle.

In Ægypts Alpes, their hands, feet, face,
Proclaime the people humane race.
Their breasts are long, but then their backes
Are like to Camels, borne with packes.
Women (with Childe) upon our shore
Are Camels, too but 'tis before.

Tenth Miracle.

The vales of Tartary men live in,
Whose heads, are wondrous like a Griphin,

And what is strange as all the rest,
Eyes they have seated in their breast.
Not farre from these the Monster flings,
A paire of different colour'd wings,
And yet they fly for all wings use,
As heavy as a powder'd Goose,
Be Griphin Sire, but Eyes and Nose
In breast a Thornebacke-Damme disclose,
And then the wings shew in a word,
They part are fish, and part are bird.
But slow flight shewes theyre, without erring,
Nor Fish, nor Fowle, nor good Red Herring.

Eleventh Miracle.

The Lusitanian King of late
Found Nation out where Curre is pate,
Their middle part is man, their thighes
Are horse, their hoofe divided lyes.
Their Language Mumme, for Reader harke,
Truth is they doe not speake, but barke.
They skirmish oft, their Captives eate,
Else other creatures are their meate.
Were these in England we should thence,
Be puzled for their difference,

And them be forc'd at length to call
Not Tom and Dick, but Tosse and Ball.
No Trades or Arts they ere would prove;
Unlesse hunt Ducke, or fetch a glove.
Their logding (alls one) eight or ten Ell,
For their Bed-chamber is their Kennell.
But then their wives there's nought more puzzles,
Our womens mufflers are their Muzzles.
But out alas, what mighty stirre,
Would be for an Interpreter.
They must be pleasd, for if feud growes
Masters and Freinds they eate for Foes.
And stranger diet ne're was knowne,
When Master's to his dogge a bone.

Twelfth Miracle.

And now of Regions we sing,
Where Tamberlaine of old was King,
In upper parts, though men they be,
Yet still Three beards on Chin we see.
Our Barbers count it a strange Crime,
To use three Razors at one time.
Suppose we call'd to wash the face once,
Freind bring three balls, a gleeke of Basons,

As for this beard, clip him no more,
On, to my nether lippe afore,
Till thou lop of, (my nose hath aches)
The Tufts of my North East Mustaches.
'Tis well, produce thy Mirror, I'le not passe,
Till't be a Multiplying Glasse.
Say would not this make Barber sullen,
To see one like Three Kings of Cullen.
Such face in Glasse was never limmed,
Unlesse when Cerberus was Trimmed.

Thirteenth Miracle.

Thus much Lycosthenes doth tell us,
Lycosthenes, and other fellowes,
But they goe on as not afear'd,
To call those men, that seeme a Heard.

Fourteenth Miracle.

As those with Tales, and those with throats,
Are as well-bearded as our Goates.

Fifteenth Miracle.

And then to Amazons they call ye,
Confirmed by Sir Walter Raleigh.

Sixteenth Miracle.

And then to him, who try'd by's Peeres,
Prov'd he had liv'd foure hundred yeares.
Oft did his Lockes from hoare white passe
To blacke, his haire's Pythagoras)
One hundred he did Jove adore,
Then liv'd a Turke three hundred more,
So from the Sultan pension get,
(And like enough he keepes it yet.)

Seaventeenth Miracle.

To this an Indian old they adde,
Who liv'd and liv'd, as he were madde;
For now declining from a Mountaine,
He leapt (they say) into a Fountaine,
Then don'd his Clothes, and bout to bind him,
Found he had left his Age behind him,

He doft his Clothes, and leapt forsooth,
Both into Poole and into Youth.

Eighteenth Miracle.

And after these they tell agen,
Of those that use to feed on men,
And often buy at Butchers Portall,
Not legge of Beefe, but legge of Mortall.
But some of these we met before,
And therefore need relate no more.
Indeed some not, but since so much
Already's said, we need but touch.

Nineteenth Miracle.

Besides there lives upon a high land,
In Towne within Saint Thomas Island.
Who from that Towne, mine Author sayes,
Receive their names the Penecays.
From old to young, from bird to Egge,
They have a Bag-pipe in their legge.
A sluggish Tumour 'bout their bones,
That Bag pipe makes the people Drones.

Of this disease, when folke you view sicke,
Know 'tis a kinde of Dropsie-Musicke.

Twentieth Miracle.

And neere the same Celestian Line,
The Gossips live, calld Arupine.
Nature to them is much the same,
They for the most part are borne lame.
Both these may Nature justly call,
Her miracle and Hospitall.
Of them to speake, let no man urge on,
Lesse we could send them a Chirurgeon.

One and twentieth Miracle.

These kinde of wonders here had slept,
But in by chance another crept.
Just as I meant to say no more,
Came Bohem out of Diodore,
Who much protests he tels ye no lye,
From those in Island Jamboli.
There the inhabitants (quoth he)
Are bulke and manners much like we,

Shape same, but height it is encreas'd
'Bove ours foure Cubits at the least.
Their bone (to say he doth not swerve)
Is just as supple as our Nerve.
And hence like Trees, before, behind,
They bend and yeild to Aire and wind,
Quicke joints, and all about smooth skin,
No haire appeares above their Chin.
But greatest wonder that hath sprung,
Is that of this strange Nations Tongue.
Which parted is to all mens view,
And from the Root compleatly two.
By which they have not onely force,
To use a Numerous discourse;
But seeme at once ('tis wondrous pretty)
Like severall Birds, and sing their Ditty.
But that's not all, they will agen
Debate and argue with two men;
And at one instant they can fly,
To urge their owne sence, and Reply,
This part conferres with one, while t'other,
Is warme and earnest with another.

Two and Twentieth Miracle. Of Pigmies.

Mongst all the Wonders that there be,
Of Man, of Beast, and eke of Tree,
There's none where Authors are content,
To yeild their suffrage and consent,
Or doe more serious credit give,
Then that the Pigmies once did live,
Philostratus (to Cronie wi'us)
When he doth out of Apollonius,
All other wonders Fables call,
He still to th' Pigmies gives the wall,
But no old Author truer writ,
Then Aristotle Stagirite,
Upon this point in Booke he fals,
Inscrib'd of Getting Animals,
He Pigmies grants, (we learne from thence)
Which liv'd of old, in Caves and Dens,
And he to shew he doth not sooth us,
Addes, Ου γαρ εσ)τι τουτο μυθος.
Which being rendred, signifies,
That Pigmie stories are no lyes.
And now from him doth differ Plinie,
No more then Tith-pig from Pig-ginnie.

Onely thus much methinkes he vowes,
That Egges and Eg-shells were their House,
Tis in strange Timber sure they paddle,
To whom their houses may be addle.
These Egges they caught with sweat and paines,
All from their neighbour Foes the Cranes.
Besides old Isidore hath g'in't us,
And 'mongst the Modernes Hector Pintus.
Nay we could prove sure as liv'd Ninus,
That this is back'd by Augustinus.
Few in this point have abandon'd us,
Lesse Strabo learnd, and Aldrovandus.
With Scaliger, who time hath spent,
Learnd to appeare, cause diffident.
The occasion of its Fable some
Have judg'd may from this reason come.
Because that in those Regions where
The Stagirite sayes Pigmies were,
All writers freely doe agree,
That wondrous little Creatures be.
Hence might, say they, this errour grow,
And he might thinke the men were so.
This savours Strabo, and has gust
Why Aristotle heel distrust.
But those who doe this Reason print,
Doe Aristotle justice int,

For if the heat, the Sunne there flings,
Contract and straighten other things.
Say why that Sunne may not have then
Like influence and force on men?
Besides, cause wee'l no longer tarry,
Tis cleare, that Strabo did miscarry,
Since Authors chaine the Pigmies seates,
Not to the Eclipticke parching heates,
But doe allow these Dwarfes combine,
Under a sundry Temperate Line.
Pliny in Thrace some Pigmies puts,
And others up in Caria shuts.
From India one his Pigmies takes,
And others neare to Nilus Lakes,
And Aristotles Pigmie height,
Is stil'd from's Region Troglodite.
Now Homers Pigmie, head and mouth,
Is Æthiopian, North, or South.
And Mæla to affirme not feares,
That Pigmies some Arabia beares.
Againe, lest Strabo should confine us,
We to Pomponius adde Solinus,
And Jovius too, beyond Japan
Embassadour Muscovian.
Let Strabo rage like Captaine Tucca,
Some men have seene them in Molucca.

But sure methinkes it needs must like us,
Which storied is by Odoricus.
He vowes, he Pigmies did descry,
Which were about some three palmes high;
And these (say, can ye hold from laughters)
At five yeares old, got Sons and Daughters.
To see the Sonne you would admire,
Goe play at push pin with his Sire.
But this to say would vex them rather,
Sir, is this Infant here your Father?
Or else suppose this Question slipt,
Pray when was last your Grandsire whipt?
Is that your Grandame? who doth dresse it?
A wondrous hopefull Child, God blesse it.

If all Diseases scape he can,
Thy Fathers Father may write man.
Theophilus, Higginus, Sergius,
And others (if so be that heard you us)
Albertus too, sets Dwarfes before us,
And Gaza christned Theodorus.

But weepe, Will: Baker, weepe to see,
Albertus Magnus doth agree,
That Pigmies were, yet at one stroke,
VVere they Ten Thousand all are broke.
Will: he averres they had no reason,
Nor understanding more then Peason.

Out, Out, Albertus, I could purse thee,
A freind of mine is bound to curse thee.

But Bille, worse and worse, Cardanus,
(Unworthy man) doth more constraine us,
He writes, though Cloakes they wore with Capes,
The Pigmies Fathers were the Apes.
And that from him, their line's translated,
That rides when London Beares are bated.
Now Will, if truth these men protects,
It something odly sure reflects,
And Cherry-lickum's beast, that Varlet,
Must be some Dwarfe in Chaine and Scarlet.
But these are Libels all and Scandals,
Devis'd by some whose shooes are Sandals.
For trust me when Thou dost appeare,
We quickely guesse what men they were.
Thy talke, Albertus will defeat,
Were he farre Greater then the Great.

That Pigmies were, be that prov'd hence,
Will: Baker proves they spake good sence.
And now it will not be amisse,
To adde one author to all this:
One thing I'le instance Sirs, and no more,
What was of Pigmies thought by Homer:
When Pigmie now was Midwives tale,
And onely season'd Gossips ale.

When they would mention such devises,
Cause Cups did want some other Spices.
When Pigmies folke did them so injure,
Onely supply'd a Race of Ginger.
Up starts old Homer in a wroth,
And cry'd, Keepe breath to coole your Broth.
Your Meetings love I with my heart,
And eke your Ale, be't pint, be't quart.
But yet my toes they itch to kicke her,
That drinkes these people off in Liquor,
Come, Come, your cups shall never boast,
They drowne a Nation like a Toast:
A Toast I say, which till 'tis mouldy.
You doe reserve to feed your Poultry.
But Dudgen Dagger throat I sticke in's
That Pigmie throwes to fat his Chickens.
At this, that all may henceforth know them,
He puts their story in his Poem.
Their war with Cranes who them annoy,
As fam'd as is his war of Troy.
Now he that in their story seekes,
Finds Pigmies Trojans, Cranes the Greekes.
But still the Pigmies did defie them,
As if their King were Aged Priam.
Full sundry Duels, sundry Fights,
Were mannag'd by the Pigmie Knights;

And though at length they're kill'd and quiet,
I thinke their Foes got little by it.
For often wounded, often shine.
Was many an Agamemnon Crane.
Steele is his breast, Flint is his Eyes,
His Head is Tinder-box likewise.
That can refraine, when this he heares,
From Gales of sighes, and showrs of teares:
Here lies a Wing, and there a Claw,
There lies a beake (Warre hath no law.)
And would't not greive Lady or Dutchesse,
To see a Crane walke 'twixt two Crutches?
There's small remorse in Pigmie Dwarfe,
That makes a Fowle weare wing in Scarfe.
With Feathers lost, Crane oft did sit,
Like Goose or Capon pluckt for spit.
Her guts cleane drawne, and none within her,
As though the Bird were truss'd for dinner.
They did so mangle her, so batter,
As if the Carver had beene at her:
Sometimes depriv'd of Rumpe or Crupper,
You'd thinke the rest kept cold for supper.
When they were Captives in all ages
Th'imprison'd were in Coopes or Cages.
Where both the Mother and the Daughter,
Ought seldome eate but bread and water.

Nor would they let (deare Will my honey)
A Drum or Trumpet bring them money,
And then alacke, what should they doe,
They could not beg, they wanted shooe.
In fine, from thence they ne're did range,
Lesse on Parole to get Exchange.
In other Fights (ô Fights accursd)
The valiant Pigmies had the worst.
Lo here they fall, and there they fly,
Weapon on Ground, Finger in Eye.
O Cruell Crane, that is not slacke,
To Pigmie pecke, behind his backe.
And what is worse (though he exhort her)
Refuse to give Nine Inches Quarter.
Long lasted feud and mortall jarre,
Till onely Crane surviv'd in warre.
In which no Pigmie ere was spi'd,
That tooke up Armes on t'other side.
'Twas Crane surviv'd, and well she mought,
Pigmie at disadvantage fought.
For routed Crane puts spurre to wing,
And safe through empty aire doth fling,
And ere a Baker marke his Tallies,
See Crane returnes againe, and Rallies.
But Pigmie-wight, must stand to list.
Three inches stride would split his twist.

Well Sirs,
The Pigmies had not hence beene snatch'd,
Had Will the mighty then beene hatch'd,
Had he beene Genorall I wiss'e,
Boyl'd Crane had gone to pot ere this,
He would have made their Forces yeild,
Yes, and had Pillage too o'th' Feild.
Woe tide the Bagge, Baggage and Canon,
Few words my Muse, I doubt they ha-none:
But had they any cold or hot gun,
All's Wils, from Culverin to Pot-gun.
In Quest of whom nere straine your Artirs,
To find Molluccans, Indians, Tartars,
No foraigne wildernesse or faire den,
His Forrest is the Privy Garden.
Where oft before and after vittles,
He walkes, and then retires to skittles.
The Pinnes eye witnesses beleive)
Are stiffe as need to sticke on sleeve,
His Ninth, some Authors say is larger,
And vast as that which fastens kercher,
But trigge him close, for Will can win,
Now marke him, downe goes Corner Pin.
Which pressing Earth vast burden proves,
As Feathers falne from breast of Doves,

Now weighty Bowle whence cruell stroakes
Divided are, to his Nine Oakes,
Is Reverend Pea, which Burgers they
With Bacon eate, for it is Gray.
Then hand is large (if mortall heed it)
As Moles which blind hath none to leade it,
And Mole with fist we know doth tosse a
Hill like a ball, Pelion on Ossa.
Hand-arme succeeds almost as bigge,
As brawny pettie toe of Pigge.
Arme with as Trusty bone is borne,
As what supporteth Eare of Corne.
Nerves thicke as Ropes, descry'd aloofe,
When Spider slides from toppe of Roofe.
But arme as deemes the strict beholder,
Is wondrous neare unto his shoulder.
Shoulder in spight of I or you,
Provoke him not, the squire hath two.
Wherewith (in contestation case)
He shoveth Frogs from place to place.
And to support they have beene found,
A mighty beame (of straw) from ground,
And well they may, for they instead
Of Columnes are to Necke and head.
Which head hath braines, there's nothing truer:
Ogge, Yeoman of the Guard hath fewer,

Wit he hath more then Gyant that,
Though he scarce weare so bigge a hat.
For seeing Beast one did bereave her,
Of seaventeene haires, which made his Beaver.
He takes a Silke-wormes Airy Twist,
(Such Oberon ties about his wrist)
That girts his hat, so big lookes that-band,
As Antique Mid-wives Cipresse hat-band.
That beares in hat (full spruce and fine)
What makes him sweat, his Valentine.

But head must not in any case,
Divided be from Necke and Face.
Face comely shap'd, with Fore-head smooth,
Eye under brow, and in Month Tooth:
Nose rising with convenient Ridge,
And broad as Edge of Knife i'th' bridge.
Beard plac'd on Chin, which he may twist
(When men curle Haire on backe of Fist.)
To head proportion'd Necke, where note,
It is not Taurus, Necke and Throat.

His Bulke is wide as Ring say some
On finger worne, some say on Thumbe.
The first (I feare) doe hardly hit it:
Your Finger Ring will never fit it.
For leaping like through Needle Camel,
Hee's knowne to justle of the Enamel.

Nay when through Thumbe-ring Feates he shewes yee,
Most Authors writes he marres the Posy
Where he destroyes ('tis wondrous strange)
I like my choice too well to change.

His Fleshy Thigh men justly call,
As large as Capons (bone and all)
The London Major (though Authors some sticke)
Tis thought nere eate a Fairer Drum-sticke.

His Brawny Legs with hand he knockes,
As plumpe in Calves as any Cockes.
When strutting him in bootes you see,
No Game-Cocke gingles more then he.

Now but his Foot all parts are past,
For which you may consult his last.
If he (at will) doe stockings use,
The Mouse weares hide that makes his shooes.
But Shooes alas (oh dismall day)
Occasion were of such a Fray
As hath not beene in England found,
Since Guy threw Gyant on the ground.

It hapned once (and who can say
What things may happen on a day?)
That hungry Kitten when she came
Now fully weaned from her Damme,
And quite debarr'd of Tet, must hast,
To seize on Mouse, or else must fast.

For few Pusse-Parents can say my purse
Will keepe my Kitten at a Dry Nurse.
One Cat in ten (youl hardly seeke,
Can part with halfe a Crowne a weeke)
When groaning paunch, and stomacke itchings,
Had forc'd her search Binnes, Buttrys, Kitchins.
But all in vaine, about did goe,
And could not dine upon her Foe.
Fortune at last (as who should say
Pusse thou shalt eate with me to day)
Design'd to shew the Duke some sport,
And did direct the Cat to Court:
She went, and willing to dispatch
She gap't, and lickt the Centries Match,
But Fire and Brimstone spoil'd her Message,
She thought it was the Devils Sassage.
From him she hyed, for her desire
Was much gainst Brimstone-Sauce, and Fire,
From staire to staire she jumpd along
Till at the last she spied a Throng,
Where Page that nere deserv'd rebuke,
Paid due attendance to the Duke.
She cryed as soone as here she come,
(Though few men heard it) Fee, Fa, Fum.
Be happy Pusse, for in this house,
I smell the bloud of English Mouse.

About she roaves, about she went,
Her supper still was in her scent,
But searching hole, and scraping Cranny,
She sigh'd, for why she found not any.
Her colour went, and she look'd Paler,
And much she fear'd her nose did faile her.
At last young bloud and warmer weather,
Threw relish hot from upper leather.
All things conspire, and jointly meete,
Will: Baker now defend thy foete.
Pusse couched low, and downe she lay,
In humble homage to her prey.
But as Antæus striving found
Fresh life and vigour from the ground,
So Pusse her limbes thus low had thrust,
To rise more active from the Dust:
And now (as hunger gave her wings)
Uncivill Cat rash bulke she flings
On Foot and Toes: As falling steele
Doth sundry wayes make mortall feele,
And doth enrage and move our hate,
More from its edge then from its weight:
So Pusse stout Wills just anger drawes
Lesse by her weight then by her Clawes;
But midst amazement and midst feares,
Just indignation, and just Teares,

By Reede in hand, with silver tipp't,
Rude Pusse is most severely whipt.

And then while both seeme to be even,
Affront was tane, affront was given,
A Ring was call'd, enraged they
Resolve to fall, or end the Fray.
But all this while, as wealthy Swaines
Enjoy not, but enthrall their Gaines.
Who coyne confinde to Chests inure,
Not to possesse, but to secure.
And from that strange unmanly itch,
Are their Golds Gaolers, but not Rich.
Soe Pusse now graspt what she did catch,
Nor did she feast on prey, but hatch.
Still brooding, still to tast was nice,
Her Twinne Imaginary Mice.

This gave advantage to her Foe,
And cost her many a sturdy blow.
Againe, sometimes she would withdraw,
And give her Yoke of Foes more law,
That at their motions she might rise,
And seize them by a fresh surprise.
Now all this while the Stripes fell thicke,
And vext the Cat unto the quicke.
Yet she forbore, and did but watch,
To checke the Tyrant with a scratch,

Whom seas'nably he kept in aw
By stretching out corrective paw.

But what amus'd her heart within her
Was he envy'd her, her dinner:
'Twas not so large, Dormouse in view
Might seeme a Beare to both these two.
So small they were, in any wise
She could descry nor head, nor Eyes.
Had she not been, sh'had left the fight,
More guided by her sent, then sight.
By that confirm'd, a fresh she flies,
And so renews her enterprize.

And now as Children dishes Court,
And wanton Tasts make meat their sport.
Till at the last these sports incite
Fresh Edge, and raise new appetite.
Soe Pusse by play more sharpe became,
Assuming hunger from her game.

Then on she fell, and by the Toes
Whole structure to the ground she Throwes.
But Gallant WILL did stroakes afford,
Till almost lost in chinke of Bord,
Where streightned by the place and feare
He wanted breath, to wield his speare.

But being both too fatall hearted,
They now by seconds both were parted.

When Will they take to give him Ayre,
And Seate him on broad-naile of Chaire;
And Pusse from him they severed farre.
Least they returne at unaware.

This Pauze (while Combatants were still)
Heard Votes for Pusse, and Uotes for Will.
For Factions part, as did the Ring,
And their divided suffræge bring.
But the discreet Indifferents, they
For the most part gave Will the day;
For though some urge (that though Will bleed)
His hand wav'd an assistant Reed.
And that the Pusse did Weapon scorne
But what was with her Cott ship borne.

They thus Reply, suppose one spide,
Who borne was with his Sword by's side,
Must Will fight with him (sword and all)
Because that sword is naturall?
Is he Wills match, say you that listend,
Because his Cutlers-shop was Christned?

But that which most the day did bend
Was from the Combats different end.
Wills heat from glory first did rise,
And a just sense of Iniuries.
Pusse, not to vanquish, but to Eat,
Lesse for her Honour, then her Meat.

Poore Trencher Duellist, if she fight,
No courage, 'tis but Appetite.

And this so swayd her, she was seene
To have re-entred lists agen.
And feircely to his Foot she goes
With fresh Defiance to his Toes.

But Will disabled now to rise,
By losse of bloud and freinds advise
Subscribed without more adoe,
To save his foot to part with Shooe.

“Wise Merchant thus on second thought,
“To save the Ship throwes ore the Fraught.
He parts with shooes, whence doth appeare,
Twas his discretion, not his feare.
For still he cryd with held up Knuckles,
You Rav'nous Queane returne my Buckles.