University of Virginia Library

A Rustick.

Is a rude Son of Adam, who intends
To wear his Fathers Curse at's Fingers ends:
His Cattle are so much his Consultation,
They make him of a Beastly Conversation:
But his transport of Corn, expresses plain,
'Tis he the Proverb terms A Knave in Grain:
He is all Mortal, and we justly say,
His Composition is but Grasse and Hay:
Virgil he knows not, yet hath skill concerning
Some Practique parcels of Georgick Learning:
He may arrive at Heaven, for each Day
His progresse lies thorow some thorny way:
And should be stout, for though his Roof afford
No Gun, it is defended by the Sword
Of glorious Bacon, which in rust hangs by,
To hew the hunger of Posterity:
These Modern times molest him, since mad Blades
Have taught him Billets, Quarters, and Brigades
Of Horse, and Foot; which (for ought he can finde)
Are but new Words, made to destroy Mankinde:
He loves no Fighting, yet sometimes a large
Party of Horse will put him to the Charge;
But then he brags, though he be forc'd to yield
His House, he will be Master of the Field:
He's always doubtfull of his Guests, and knows
No nice distinction 'twixt his Friends, and Foes:
Which makes him Mute, and warily to hide
His grave Opinion, till he know what side
They fight for, and doth (cunningly) prepare
For either Party, one set Form of Prayer.
It is a Problem of most hard Digestion,
If (suddenly) any propound the Question,
To have his voluntary quick Consent,
Whether he be for King or Parlament;
And puts his Clownship in so deep a Trance,
He knows not what to plead, but Ignorance:
He would not have the Service Book put down,
For the two Weather Prayers (the onely Crown
Of his Devotion) which (for ought he knows)
May be some slender Cause, that his Grasse grows:
These cruel Times move him to much remorse,
Not that they kill the Men, but spoil the Horse,
Eat up the Grasse, yet can the sad Assertion
Procure no Writ of Trover, or Conversion
Against the Trespassers, whose warlike Words
Are Statutes, & whose Warrants are their Swords:
Yet though his Corn, and Cattle, wasted are,
'T has vers'd him in the Dialect of War,
For now he can rehearse to you at large
A Troop, a March, Battalia, and a Charge,
Retreat, Relief, a Battry, and a Call,
Then from a Colonel to a Corporal
Speaks Offices gradatim; nay, he knows
Not onely what the VVords are, but the Blows:
There's scarce a Woman in his house but she
Can (naturally) train a Company;
Though he had rather simply understand
The down-right, thrifty, old Words of Command;
As Gee, Ho, Ree: and his blinde Troopers call
By the known names of Dun, Sorrell, and Ball:
But now his hopes are (and I hope so to)
That he shall plow in Peace agen, and go
In safety to the Market, though he dwell
Till Monday at the Tap, 'cause Corn sels well:
And who doth know, but such a time may come
When the blown Bag-pipe shall out-vie the Drum?
And the majestick May-pole have admission,
To be erected, without Superstition:
When Meg, and Margery, with Siss, and Doll,
Shall be allow'd to dance their Bellies full;
And my rude Rustick (whom I do confer
Honor upon, in this wilde Character)
Shall be a hob nail'd Judge amongst the rest;
And gravely give his Censure who doth best;
VVhilest his gray VVife, hath her Ambition full
Fraught with the Stile of Mistris Constable,
At every VVord, and he erect his Nose
(In pride) to think how Wealth, and Honor, grows
Upon his Shoulders, whom we'll let alone,
Till a Subpœna bring him up to Town.