Maronides or, Virgil Travesty, Being a New Paraphrase In Burlesque Verse, Upon the Fifth and Sixth Book of Virgil's Aeneids. By John Phillips Gent. The Author of the Satyr against Hypocrites |
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1
Maronides
OR Virgil Travesty.
LIB. V.
While
Dido in a Bed of Fire,
A new-found way to cool desire,
Lay wrapt in smoke, half Cole, half Dido,
Too late repenting Crime Libido,
Monsieur Æneas went his ways;
For which I con him little praise,
To leave a Lady, not ith' mire,
But which was worser, in the fire.
He Neuter-like, had no great aim,
To kindle or put out the flame.
He had what he would have, the Wind;
More than ten Dido's to his mind.
The merry gale was all in Poop,
Which made the Trojanes all cry Hoop!
My Author tells ye they were glad,
They such a brave escape had made;
Fearing some Hector, raging wood
For's Mistress fate, in anger shou'd,
First Cloyster up their Wives, like Nunns;
Then geld themselves, and shave their Crowns.
They car'd not for such Punic Giggs,
For Whores then sold no Periwigs.
As thus they reason'd among themselves,
Safe as they thought from Sands and Shelves,
Carthage to them seem'd all in Flame,
Æneas knew himself too blame,
Yet doubting what caus'd the mishap,
To know it would have pawn'd his Cap.
He knew his last demeanor ill,
And his departure ungentile,
That Groom had neither gratifi'd
Nor Maid that tuckt up his Bed-side.
And had forsook a willing Soul,
A Lady once, but now a Fool,
Strangely ore-shot to let a Looby,
So treacherously give her the go-by.
Such whims as these his thoughtful Brest,
With many a Gimcrack over-prest.
When on a sudden, loe, the Air,
That was but now serenely fair,
Choak'd with a flux of Rhume and Drivel,
Began in manner most uncivil,
To spaul upon Æneas Beard,
And Trojan folk, whom fire had spar'd.
But when they heard the Ratling Thunder,
That Rent both Ears and Seas in sunder,
Ready to dash their Oysters Skiffs,
Like Infants Brains against the Cliffs;
The women offer'd Jove their smocks,
To save'em from the threatning Rocks;
The men they proffer'd Smocks and Wives,
And all, to save their own dear lives.
Better't had bin for us, they cry'd,
That we had bin like Herrings fry'd;
Than here to dy like drowned Rats,
Us and our Wives and little Brats.
And then they made it all their wishes,
That Jove would turn 'em into Fishes;
For why, quoth they, a living Gudgeon,
Is better far than a dead Trojan.
Good Palinure, a kind of Zealot,
Fitter to make a Priest than Pilot,
For you would swear that he poor Pidgeon,
No Seaman was by his Religion,
Foreseeing well the neer disasters,
Fell streightway to his Pater nosters.
O Neptune, crying loud, quoth He,
Thou great Stat-holder of the Sea,
Ore all Sea-Horses, and all Whales
The chief of Major-Generals;
What ail your blubb-checkt Aquilo's,
To trouble thus the Waves Repose?
A knot of Hectring Dammie fellows,
Instead of Rapiers using Bellows;
Confounded Bragadochio skipjacks
That live by snatching Cloaks and Shipwracks,
Why dost thou let such Ragamuffins,
Thus rudely make our ships our Coffins.
They know full well that thou and we,
Are of the self same Family.
So that what's don to us, alass,
Your Godship chiefly does disgrace,
For why should such a shabby brood?
Abuse your Worships Flesh and Blood.
A peaceful Train, yet I assure ye,
Such as might be of a Grand Jury.
For Kindred sake Sir Neptune then,
Make not Sea-Souce of your Kins-Men.
Æneas his Mustachio's tore,
Twas you, quoth he, by whom I swore,
To my dear Dido, faith and truth:
Come from the Chin of faithless Youth:
With that he tweag'd his Chaps and Jawes,
And vow'd they were the only cause:
Why to the tune of his disaster,
The Waves did dance, while Winds did bluster.
Yet on my Back I bare Anchises,
My Father, or the World a ly sayes,
And sav'd him from the cruel Greeks,
That else had fry'd him all in Steaks;
Now O ye Gods, I pray ye put,
To the Goose Giblets the Hare's Foot;
And tell me why, why pious I,
Must thus by you forsaken dy.
Streight, Palinure he cry'd, So, ho,
What shall we weather't out or no?
Pox weather it, quoth he again,
I think the Devil is in the Main,
I never kew such huffing tear-smocks,
Heres fluster bluster with a Hors-pox.
By all the Gods both old and young,
A little more will make me Dung.
Therefore lest we be forc'd ith' cold:
To drink more than our skins will hold;
Ther's but one way, and that I'le tell ye,
Not far behind us lies Si—cilly.
Where we shall go in Satans name,
Turning our prows from whence we came.
There lives Acestes now turn'd Farmer
Would we were in his Chimney-Corner?
Rather than here to drop by handfuls
As if were the Devils windfalls.
This when Æneas did perceive,
He wip'd his Cheeks with Doublet sleeve.
For Handkerchief he had not any.
Then quo he had I Bancks of money,
Thou shouldst have them and eke my daughter
For thou hast given me cause of laughter.
Troth Palinure th'hast hit the nail,
Upon the head and not the tail.
Our Souls why should we hazard there,
Where scarce our bodies dare appear?
I come not here to fight the Winds,
Or rather Devils in their kinds,
Or be at mercy of the Seas,
The mark of all their injuries.
But Sicily's a place by Jove,
That above all the World I love.
Were I to choose through all the Ball,
I'de have it sooner than White-Hall.
Thou never couldst have nam'd one more,
Unless it be the Promis'd Shore.
There lies my Father old Anchises,
Secure from Jun's damn'd devices.
Thether lets hasten night and day.
You know wee're nere out of our way.
Having thus made a learned speech,
Which made the Trojanes ears to itch;
They made the ships ring with the noise,
Of hey!—for Sicily, brave boyes.
And by and by they saw the Isle;
Which made'em laugh out right, not smile.
Alcestes was a man well born,
And yet he thought it then no scorne,
To be about a work most mean;
For he was building up again,
A Chimney, which the storm had thrown,
From top to bottom headlong down.
When on a suddain he espy'd,
A troop of strangers by Sea side.
Bless me what's yonder, straight quo He,
Come they to eat up mine, or me?
But when as they approached nigh,
He saw their Arms and Colours fly,
Their grave grand Paw, Caps of a size,
And eke their Beards cut Trojan wise.
Then void of fear, and past all doubting,
He fell a hollowing and a showting.
They came not now, he saw, to fight,
All Towns-born Children, by this Light.
With that he leapt from off the Tiles,
As some men say, at least two miles.
They were no sooner met, but hey!
Happy was he that could come nigh.
And though his eyes each one did see,
Art thou, and thou alive, quoth he?
Good faith my friends, twas boldly done,
For all of you to visite one.
How could you think that I had roome,
To entertain a Posse Com:
But tis no matter, here ye are,
Mycene now shall know I'me Major,
I'me glad y'are come within my yeare,
Though but a Thatcher, I wont spare.
He had no Gown lin'd through with Fur,
Yet something like it, I assure;
A Bears skin lapt about his Groines,
As it was stead from the Bears loins.
Where fore-feet were, he put his Arms,
Where those behind, his leggs he warms.
Yet this same rugged justicore,
They from his neck had almost tore.
Toward his nape, Love was so brisk,
Twas rumpled like a Ladies Whisk.
So much the worse because that then,
Muff boxes were not us'd by men.
His Arms were sore, his joynts displac'd,
So strong they shook, so hard embrac'd:
At length in pitty to his wrists,
Enough quoth he, Enough your fists.
Less Ceremony, good my friends,
Too much of it to Treason tends.
Then every one to his content,
Sheath'd up his several Complement.
Which being done he march'd before'em,
To's Mannor House, in great Decorum.
Twas made of Lome, but little Brick,
Where without much of Rhetorick,
He bad'em welcome to his Hall
His House-keeper was out of call,
He call'd her Bab: but she came not:
And which was worse, the keys had got.
But twas all one, bring them but where,
Let them alone to break and tear.
There was no need to cry Sa-Sa,
For manners then there was no Law.
They sack't his Buttry in a moment
And on his drink ner'e stood to comment.
None were so nice to call for Glasses,
A Hatt for March-Beer far surpasses.
Now having while there lasted Meat,
Like Fishes drank, like Horses eat,
They call'd no Chaplains to say Grace,
But streight look out for sleeping place.
Some strew'd themselves upon the Rushes,
Some under Trees, some under Bushes:
Do'nt talk to them of your Serenes,
There's nere a one knows what it means.
Æneas having got a nap,
By break of daylight gets him up:
And being resolved what to say,
He with a Drum, beats Reveillez.
The Trojans wake, and ere they piss,
They Flock in heaps, and cry what's this?
Now when the Drummer by his Drumming
Had got them all together humming,
He had his will; silence quo he,
And so gets up into a Tree.
Where, as my learned Author sayes,
He spoke these words, or words like these,
Faithful companions, whom by Jove,
I better than my Kidnies love;
Who from consumed Pergamus,
In Shirts and Drawers scap'd with us,
To travel over Dales and Hills,
Unhappy sharers of my Ills.
Tis now a year ago, not three,
The Devil take the year for me,
Since Death, and he'l nere leave his tricks,
My Daddy slew, the best of Greeks.
This day by me so much deplor'd,
This day by me so much ador'd.
Deserves to be the top 'oth'year,
In Africk, Europe and else where.
Greater than English day, St. Georges,
Or day when Liv'ry-Gowns fill Barges;
Greater than ere St. Marks at Venice is,
Or Quarter day, or French St. Denis's.
And therefore now I hold it fit,
Since here we are so happy met,
So near the place where those bones ly,
Of three times sacred memorie;
Those bones to visit and to make,
A day perpetual for their sake,
When bells shall ring o'th'English fashion,
As at Queen Besses Coronation.
On every vessel shall Acestes,
Who of our kindred now the best is,
The Father of a Calf bestow,
Or two perhaps for well you know,
He's free as Harlot of his flesh.
To morrow then, nor am I rash,
I do intend with pomp and state,
A mighty feast to celebrate;
And that you may not think it small,
No such was e're at Grocers Hall.
All our own Gods we will invite,
And if our Gossip can give light.
Of any more, wee'l have 'em all:
When saw ye Gods, pray, at Guildhal?
Then come not there with snotty noses,
But with silk stockins, shoes and roses;
Nor let your women there appear
With dirty smock-sleeves, foul head-geare,
With Cover-slut from Neck to Toe,
As Maids to morning Lectures go.
But let 'em come into the place,
With Farandine Gowns, and pointed Lace.
With Golden shoes, and Forehead Curles,
As they were Daughters all of Earls.
But above all I charge you this,
That of clean smocks they do not miss.
If after nine-days it be fair,
No Rain descending from the Ayr,
To spoyl those Clothes I'de have you wear.
Then will I please you several days,
With Rope-dancing and Poppet plays:
With Gyants and Dutch-women tall,
Strange Fishes, and the Devil and all.
With Fools excelling Puncinello,
Or Andrew eke that merry fellow.
I'le have a Sea-fight, but in jest,
And give rewards to them do best.
Upon the place there shall not lack
Teirces of Claret, Buts of Sack,
With heads knockt out to my great praise,
Where ye shall drink a thousand ways.
There shall be Glees, and Catches store,
Chiefly, the Fair Lavinian Shoar.
I'le have a Pipe too in my hand,
And smoak and drink while I can stand:
I'le neither spare my Purse nor brains,
The mirth of that day to advance.
If this you like then shout my Boys.
With that they shout with dismal noise.
Have you not heard in Winter weather
Ten thousand Turnep-men together;
Tearing their throats to let you know
The vertue of Long Turnep Ho!
So did the Trojans rend the sky,
Though wherefore they knew not, nor why.
Now when Æneas and the Rout,
Had shouted out their monstrous shout:
He would have presently spoke on,
But could not, for his breath was gon.
Streight having clear'd his throat from flegm,
With a stout Hauk, and Pulpit Hem,
To shew his witt was nothing feeble,
He broke'm many a pretty Quibble,
And coax'd'm up with many a wheedle.
Come faithful friends let's not be Idle.
Fetch from the Woods, tis no dishonour,
In spight of him that owes the Mannor,
Fetch Myrtle home to crown the brows
Of all the Chiefs, while they carouse
Deep Healths to my deceased Father;
Tis not a Theft, but vertue rather;
For Myrtles are my Mothers Trees,
And you may take'm as her fees.
The Trojans thus led by the nose,
Went all like fools to gather Boughs.
They went and being come again,
Æneas had a Crown or twain.
One he put on, and then seem'd drest
Like steward of a City feast.
So was Alcestes likewise Crown'd,
And eke Elymus far renown'd;
Aged in years but young in Crafts,
For he play'd well at Chess, and Draughts.
Could cure the Ring-bone in a Horse,
The Malanders, the Vives, and Farce.
With Birdlime likewise made of Turds,
Could Felfares catch and other Birds.
And had besides, let no man grudg it,
A hundred knacks more in his Budget.
Thus Crown'd also was young Ascane,
Clad Ala mode de la Campagne.
For he had on a Martial Mantle,
Which in Carthage by inch of Candle,
His Mother for a trifle bought:
It was a Scarlet Peticoate,
Which she had cut into that shape,
To please the Fathers darling Ape.
All the young fops that this did see,
Got Garlands too of any Tree.
And was it not a sight most good,
For to behold a walking Wood?
Æneas the Incomparable,
March'd at the head of all the Rabble.
With pace and gesture so Majestick,
More like a Dancer than a Rustick:
Old Man nor Child did never know,
A sight more like my Lord Majors show.
Or if the Colour had not alter'd,
(But for a word my Rhyme had falter'd)
When the Red-feather-men are seen,
To march to the Artill'ry Green.
Now being come unto the Tomb,
The poor man seem'd with grief ore'come.
He bid'm fetch a Pint of Claret,
A Messenger was streight sent for it,
When't came, he would not one drop drink,
(A thing you'l say is hard to think)
But threw it all on the Sepulchre,
Where lay the bones of Father skulker;
A bowl of Milk he powr'd likewise,
But what that meant I can't devise.
All this he strewd with herbs and flowers,
Then dropping tears like pibble showers.
Bones of my Father bonas Noches,
That now ly free from all Reproaches,
While I by my misfortunes here,
Am hunted dry-foot like a Deere;
I like a Tartar rove about,
Tis well I have not got the Gout;
Oh had ye liv'd but one year longer,
And fate then you had not been stronger;
We might have lodg'd ye peradventure,
In promis'd Italy's fair Center.
Where if a Soldier may be bold,
To speak what he has oft been told;
Though after many a bloody nose,
Our offspring having beat their Foes,
Spite of their teeths, by Sea and Land,
Shall all the Universe Command.
But Heav'n it seems was never minded,
Things should fall out as I intended.
His pious humor more did mean,
But for a chance that spoyl'd the Scene.
For in the midst of his devotion,
A Serpent with his crawling motion
Just by his Holiness appear'd,
More horrid than a Switzers beard.
Æneas with the sight perplext,
Was quickly put beside his Text.
This Serpent was in length ten Ells,
And cover'd all with yellow scales;
That was one colour, but too true,
There were both grey, and green, and blew
An ugly face he had to blinck on,
For'a lookt as Satan lookt or'e Lincoln.
His serpents gate, and folding tayl,
Their stoutest hearts did quell and quail.
And surely all had not been clean,
But that a thing did intervene.
For by and by he plainly shew'd,
He came not for their harm or good.
He therefore gave a gratious smile,
On the poor Trojans, dead ere while.
Æneas who was allwayes free,
In Curtesie for Curtesie,
Seeing him smile, reviv'd at heart,
Resolv'd to play the Foxes part,
And kindly treate th'unbidden guest,
More like a Christian than a Beast.
So when he saw the Serpent grin,
He like a Courtier smiles agen.
But you must know that the Ser—pent,
That came not there to complement.
Took little notice of his cringes,
But smartly to the Tomb he swinges,
To take his share of the oblations,
Which he lickt up without Orations.
Returning gravely from the Tomb,
The people freely gave him Room.
For though his cloaths were very brave,
He needed none to cry, beare leave.
Now here he made a little pause,
As Lipsius thinks, to pick his jawes.
And having shewn his back so fine,
The which like China silk did shine.
Away he slipt, but Heav'n knowes how,
The French man saies 'twas through a Trou,
Anglice hole. But Pescods take him,
Virgil that while he was a making,
Might'a made what so er'e he list,
Mouse-hole, or pin-hole, hole by Twist,
Or any other hole; yet left
Us quite ith' lurch; it was a cleft
I say; let him deny't that dares,
Do you Sir? Serpent, take his Ears.
Well being gon, they strove to know
What it should be that plagu'd'm so.
Æneas thought 'twas by's agility
In licking plates with such docility,
The soul of a Valet du Chamber,
Whose name I cannot well remember,
Which once his Father had,—
But others with a better face,
That was the Numen of the place.
At length they cryd with much debate,
Twas something but they knew not what.
Howe're thus warn'd, Æneas gave
New honours to his Fathers Grave.
He don'd a Countenance most sad;
I mean religious, and not mad;
He that will bring new things to pass,
Must able be to change his face,
Pretend occasions for his fears;
If he can't weep, must buy his tears.
Of six fat Sheep he cut the throats,
And five fat Pigs as plump as Goats:
And six fat Heifers to his wishes:
The blood he powred out in dishes:
The Wine from pales he spilt like whey;
Then prostrate on the Tomb he lay
(Had now the Serpent come to sup,
And eat the brave Æneas up.
Marry! I hope 'twas ne're intended,
For then the story had been ended)
And as he lay like a great Calf,
Invoak'd his Fathers better half:
But whatsoe'r he said, or cry'd,
Nor Soul nor Father Tit—reply'd.
The Devil a Tit—he said, I say,
But there like stock-Fish, dead he lay.
At his own Charge Æneas could
Not make this sacrifice so good;
His Fellow Trojans therefore bore
The great expence, some less, some more.
Though not by Subsidy nor Pole,
But by a free and willing Dole.
When this was done, they fell to worke,
Debauching more than Jew or Turk.
From right to left the Healths went round,
They roard and sung, and tore the ground.
Æneas with his brave Adventures
Top'd it so long, he made Indentures.
This was apparent after Supper
By a damn'd fall upon his Crupper;
And that he got by cutting Capers.
By which perswaded and the Vapours
That had so over-pois'd his head,
He took a light, and reel'd to bed.
A new-found way to cool desire,
Lay wrapt in smoke, half Cole, half Dido,
Too late repenting Crime Libido,
Monsieur Æneas went his ways;
For which I con him little praise,
To leave a Lady, not ith' mire,
But which was worser, in the fire.
He Neuter-like, had no great aim,
To kindle or put out the flame.
2
More than ten Dido's to his mind.
The merry gale was all in Poop,
Which made the Trojanes all cry Hoop!
My Author tells ye they were glad,
They such a brave escape had made;
Fearing some Hector, raging wood
For's Mistress fate, in anger shou'd,
First Cloyster up their Wives, like Nunns;
Then geld themselves, and shave their Crowns.
They car'd not for such Punic Giggs,
For Whores then sold no Periwigs.
As thus they reason'd among themselves,
Safe as they thought from Sands and Shelves,
Carthage to them seem'd all in Flame,
Æneas knew himself too blame,
Yet doubting what caus'd the mishap,
To know it would have pawn'd his Cap.
He knew his last demeanor ill,
And his departure ungentile,
3
Nor Maid that tuckt up his Bed-side.
And had forsook a willing Soul,
A Lady once, but now a Fool,
Strangely ore-shot to let a Looby,
So treacherously give her the go-by.
Such whims as these his thoughtful Brest,
With many a Gimcrack over-prest.
When on a sudden, loe, the Air,
That was but now serenely fair,
Choak'd with a flux of Rhume and Drivel,
Began in manner most uncivil,
To spaul upon Æneas Beard,
And Trojan folk, whom fire had spar'd.
But when they heard the Ratling Thunder,
That Rent both Ears and Seas in sunder,
Ready to dash their Oysters Skiffs,
Like Infants Brains against the Cliffs;
The women offer'd Jove their smocks,
To save'em from the threatning Rocks;
4
And all, to save their own dear lives.
Better't had bin for us, they cry'd,
That we had bin like Herrings fry'd;
Than here to dy like drowned Rats,
Us and our Wives and little Brats.
And then they made it all their wishes,
That Jove would turn 'em into Fishes;
For why, quoth they, a living Gudgeon,
Is better far than a dead Trojan.
Good Palinure, a kind of Zealot,
Fitter to make a Priest than Pilot,
For you would swear that he poor Pidgeon,
No Seaman was by his Religion,
Foreseeing well the neer disasters,
Fell streightway to his Pater nosters.
O Neptune, crying loud, quoth He,
Thou great Stat-holder of the Sea,
Ore all Sea-Horses, and all Whales
The chief of Major-Generals;
5
To trouble thus the Waves Repose?
A knot of Hectring Dammie fellows,
Instead of Rapiers using Bellows;
Confounded Bragadochio skipjacks
That live by snatching Cloaks and Shipwracks,
Why dost thou let such Ragamuffins,
Thus rudely make our ships our Coffins.
They know full well that thou and we,
Are of the self same Family.
So that what's don to us, alass,
Your Godship chiefly does disgrace,
For why should such a shabby brood?
Abuse your Worships Flesh and Blood.
A peaceful Train, yet I assure ye,
Such as might be of a Grand Jury.
For Kindred sake Sir Neptune then,
Make not Sea-Souce of your Kins-Men.
Æneas his Mustachio's tore,
Twas you, quoth he, by whom I swore,
6
Come from the Chin of faithless Youth:
With that he tweag'd his Chaps and Jawes,
And vow'd they were the only cause:
Why to the tune of his disaster,
The Waves did dance, while Winds did bluster.
Yet on my Back I bare Anchises,
My Father, or the World a ly sayes,
And sav'd him from the cruel Greeks,
That else had fry'd him all in Steaks;
Now O ye Gods, I pray ye put,
To the Goose Giblets the Hare's Foot;
And tell me why, why pious I,
Must thus by you forsaken dy.
Streight, Palinure he cry'd, So, ho,
What shall we weather't out or no?
Pox weather it, quoth he again,
I think the Devil is in the Main,
I never kew such huffing tear-smocks,
Heres fluster bluster with a Hors-pox.
7
A little more will make me Dung.
Therefore lest we be forc'd ith' cold:
To drink more than our skins will hold;
Ther's but one way, and that I'le tell ye,
Not far behind us lies Si—cilly.
Where we shall go in Satans name,
Turning our prows from whence we came.
There lives Acestes now turn'd Farmer
Would we were in his Chimney-Corner?
Rather than here to drop by handfuls
As if were the Devils windfalls.
This when Æneas did perceive,
He wip'd his Cheeks with Doublet sleeve.
For Handkerchief he had not any.
Then quo he had I Bancks of money,
Thou shouldst have them and eke my daughter
For thou hast given me cause of laughter.
Troth Palinure th'hast hit the nail,
Upon the head and not the tail.
8
Where scarce our bodies dare appear?
I come not here to fight the Winds,
Or rather Devils in their kinds,
Or be at mercy of the Seas,
The mark of all their injuries.
But Sicily's a place by Jove,
That above all the World I love.
Were I to choose through all the Ball,
I'de have it sooner than White-Hall.
Thou never couldst have nam'd one more,
Unless it be the Promis'd Shore.
There lies my Father old Anchises,
Secure from Jun's damn'd devices.
Thether lets hasten night and day.
You know wee're nere out of our way.
Having thus made a learned speech,
Which made the Trojanes ears to itch;
They made the ships ring with the noise,
Of hey!—for Sicily, brave boyes.
9
Which made'em laugh out right, not smile.
Alcestes was a man well born,
And yet he thought it then no scorne,
To be about a work most mean;
For he was building up again,
A Chimney, which the storm had thrown,
From top to bottom headlong down.
When on a suddain he espy'd,
A troop of strangers by Sea side.
Bless me what's yonder, straight quo He,
Come they to eat up mine, or me?
But when as they approached nigh,
He saw their Arms and Colours fly,
Their grave grand Paw, Caps of a size,
And eke their Beards cut Trojan wise.
Then void of fear, and past all doubting,
He fell a hollowing and a showting.
They came not now, he saw, to fight,
All Towns-born Children, by this Light.
10
As some men say, at least two miles.
They were no sooner met, but hey!
Happy was he that could come nigh.
And though his eyes each one did see,
Art thou, and thou alive, quoth he?
Good faith my friends, twas boldly done,
For all of you to visite one.
How could you think that I had roome,
To entertain a Posse Com:
But tis no matter, here ye are,
Mycene now shall know I'me Major,
I'me glad y'are come within my yeare,
Though but a Thatcher, I wont spare.
He had no Gown lin'd through with Fur,
Yet something like it, I assure;
A Bears skin lapt about his Groines,
As it was stead from the Bears loins.
Where fore-feet were, he put his Arms,
Where those behind, his leggs he warms.
11
They from his neck had almost tore.
Toward his nape, Love was so brisk,
Twas rumpled like a Ladies Whisk.
So much the worse because that then,
Muff boxes were not us'd by men.
His Arms were sore, his joynts displac'd,
So strong they shook, so hard embrac'd:
At length in pitty to his wrists,
Enough quoth he, Enough your fists.
Less Ceremony, good my friends,
Too much of it to Treason tends.
Then every one to his content,
Sheath'd up his several Complement.
Which being done he march'd before'em,
To's Mannor House, in great Decorum.
Twas made of Lome, but little Brick,
Where without much of Rhetorick,
He bad'em welcome to his Hall
His House-keeper was out of call,
12
And which was worse, the keys had got.
But twas all one, bring them but where,
Let them alone to break and tear.
There was no need to cry Sa-Sa,
For manners then there was no Law.
They sack't his Buttry in a moment
And on his drink ner'e stood to comment.
None were so nice to call for Glasses,
A Hatt for March-Beer far surpasses.
Now having while there lasted Meat,
Like Fishes drank, like Horses eat,
They call'd no Chaplains to say Grace,
But streight look out for sleeping place.
Some strew'd themselves upon the Rushes,
Some under Trees, some under Bushes:
Do'nt talk to them of your Serenes,
There's nere a one knows what it means.
Æneas having got a nap,
By break of daylight gets him up:
13
He with a Drum, beats Reveillez.
The Trojans wake, and ere they piss,
They Flock in heaps, and cry what's this?
Now when the Drummer by his Drumming
Had got them all together humming,
He had his will; silence quo he,
And so gets up into a Tree.
Where, as my learned Author sayes,
He spoke these words, or words like these,
Faithful companions, whom by Jove,
I better than my Kidnies love;
Who from consumed Pergamus,
In Shirts and Drawers scap'd with us,
To travel over Dales and Hills,
Unhappy sharers of my Ills.
Tis now a year ago, not three,
The Devil take the year for me,
Since Death, and he'l nere leave his tricks,
My Daddy slew, the best of Greeks.
14
This day by me so much ador'd.
Deserves to be the top 'oth'year,
In Africk, Europe and else where.
Greater than English day, St. Georges,
Or day when Liv'ry-Gowns fill Barges;
Greater than ere St. Marks at Venice is,
Or Quarter day, or French St. Denis's.
And therefore now I hold it fit,
Since here we are so happy met,
So near the place where those bones ly,
Of three times sacred memorie;
Those bones to visit and to make,
A day perpetual for their sake,
When bells shall ring o'th'English fashion,
As at Queen Besses Coronation.
On every vessel shall Acestes,
Who of our kindred now the best is,
The Father of a Calf bestow,
Or two perhaps for well you know,
15
To morrow then, nor am I rash,
I do intend with pomp and state,
A mighty feast to celebrate;
And that you may not think it small,
No such was e're at Grocers Hall.
All our own Gods we will invite,
And if our Gossip can give light.
Of any more, wee'l have 'em all:
When saw ye Gods, pray, at Guildhal?
Then come not there with snotty noses,
But with silk stockins, shoes and roses;
Nor let your women there appear
With dirty smock-sleeves, foul head-geare,
With Cover-slut from Neck to Toe,
As Maids to morning Lectures go.
But let 'em come into the place,
With Farandine Gowns, and pointed Lace.
With Golden shoes, and Forehead Curles,
As they were Daughters all of Earls.
16
That of clean smocks they do not miss.
If after nine-days it be fair,
No Rain descending from the Ayr,
To spoyl those Clothes I'de have you wear.
Then will I please you several days,
With Rope-dancing and Poppet plays:
With Gyants and Dutch-women tall,
Strange Fishes, and the Devil and all.
With Fools excelling Puncinello,
Or Andrew eke that merry fellow.
I'le have a Sea-fight, but in jest,
And give rewards to them do best.
Upon the place there shall not lack
Teirces of Claret, Buts of Sack,
With heads knockt out to my great praise,
Where ye shall drink a thousand ways.
There shall be Glees, and Catches store,
Chiefly, the Fair Lavinian Shoar.
I'le have a Pipe too in my hand,
17
I'le neither spare my Purse nor brains,
The mirth of that day to advance.
If this you like then shout my Boys.
With that they shout with dismal noise.
Have you not heard in Winter weather
Ten thousand Turnep-men together;
Tearing their throats to let you know
The vertue of Long Turnep Ho!
So did the Trojans rend the sky,
Though wherefore they knew not, nor why.
Now when Æneas and the Rout,
Had shouted out their monstrous shout:
He would have presently spoke on,
But could not, for his breath was gon.
Streight having clear'd his throat from flegm,
With a stout Hauk, and Pulpit Hem,
To shew his witt was nothing feeble,
He broke'm many a pretty Quibble,
And coax'd'm up with many a wheedle.
18
Fetch from the Woods, tis no dishonour,
In spight of him that owes the Mannor,
Fetch Myrtle home to crown the brows
Of all the Chiefs, while they carouse
Deep Healths to my deceased Father;
Tis not a Theft, but vertue rather;
For Myrtles are my Mothers Trees,
And you may take'm as her fees.
The Trojans thus led by the nose,
Went all like fools to gather Boughs.
They went and being come again,
Æneas had a Crown or twain.
One he put on, and then seem'd drest
Like steward of a City feast.
So was Alcestes likewise Crown'd,
And eke Elymus far renown'd;
Aged in years but young in Crafts,
For he play'd well at Chess, and Draughts.
Could cure the Ring-bone in a Horse,
19
With Birdlime likewise made of Turds,
Could Felfares catch and other Birds.
And had besides, let no man grudg it,
A hundred knacks more in his Budget.
Thus Crown'd also was young Ascane,
Clad Ala mode de la Campagne.
For he had on a Martial Mantle,
Which in Carthage by inch of Candle,
His Mother for a trifle bought:
It was a Scarlet Peticoate,
Which she had cut into that shape,
To please the Fathers darling Ape.
All the young fops that this did see,
Got Garlands too of any Tree.
And was it not a sight most good,
For to behold a walking Wood?
Æneas the Incomparable,
March'd at the head of all the Rabble.
With pace and gesture so Majestick,
20
Old Man nor Child did never know,
A sight more like my Lord Majors show.
Or if the Colour had not alter'd,
(But for a word my Rhyme had falter'd)
When the Red-feather-men are seen,
To march to the Artill'ry Green.
Now being come unto the Tomb,
The poor man seem'd with grief ore'come.
He bid'm fetch a Pint of Claret,
A Messenger was streight sent for it,
When't came, he would not one drop drink,
(A thing you'l say is hard to think)
But threw it all on the Sepulchre,
Where lay the bones of Father skulker;
A bowl of Milk he powr'd likewise,
But what that meant I can't devise.
All this he strewd with herbs and flowers,
Then dropping tears like pibble showers.
Bones of my Father bonas Noches,
21
While I by my misfortunes here,
Am hunted dry-foot like a Deere;
I like a Tartar rove about,
Tis well I have not got the Gout;
Oh had ye liv'd but one year longer,
And fate then you had not been stronger;
We might have lodg'd ye peradventure,
In promis'd Italy's fair Center.
Where if a Soldier may be bold,
To speak what he has oft been told;
Though after many a bloody nose,
Our offspring having beat their Foes,
Spite of their teeths, by Sea and Land,
Shall all the Universe Command.
But Heav'n it seems was never minded,
Things should fall out as I intended.
His pious humor more did mean,
But for a chance that spoyl'd the Scene.
For in the midst of his devotion,
22
Just by his Holiness appear'd,
More horrid than a Switzers beard.
Æneas with the sight perplext,
Was quickly put beside his Text.
This Serpent was in length ten Ells,
And cover'd all with yellow scales;
That was one colour, but too true,
There were both grey, and green, and blew
An ugly face he had to blinck on,
For'a lookt as Satan lookt or'e Lincoln.
His serpents gate, and folding tayl,
Their stoutest hearts did quell and quail.
And surely all had not been clean,
But that a thing did intervene.
For by and by he plainly shew'd,
He came not for their harm or good.
He therefore gave a gratious smile,
On the poor Trojans, dead ere while.
Æneas who was allwayes free,
23
Seeing him smile, reviv'd at heart,
Resolv'd to play the Foxes part,
And kindly treate th'unbidden guest,
More like a Christian than a Beast.
So when he saw the Serpent grin,
He like a Courtier smiles agen.
But you must know that the Ser—pent,
That came not there to complement.
Took little notice of his cringes,
But smartly to the Tomb he swinges,
To take his share of the oblations,
Which he lickt up without Orations.
Returning gravely from the Tomb,
The people freely gave him Room.
For though his cloaths were very brave,
He needed none to cry, beare leave.
Now here he made a little pause,
As Lipsius thinks, to pick his jawes.
And having shewn his back so fine,
24
Away he slipt, but Heav'n knowes how,
The French man saies 'twas through a Trou,
Anglice hole. But Pescods take him,
Virgil that while he was a making,
Might'a made what so er'e he list,
Mouse-hole, or pin-hole, hole by Twist,
Or any other hole; yet left
Us quite ith' lurch; it was a cleft
I say; let him deny't that dares,
Do you Sir? Serpent, take his Ears.
Well being gon, they strove to know
What it should be that plagu'd'm so.
Æneas thought 'twas by's agility
In licking plates with such docility,
The soul of a Valet du Chamber,
Whose name I cannot well remember,
Which once his Father had,—
But others with a better face,
That was the Numen of the place.
25
Twas something but they knew not what.
Howe're thus warn'd, Æneas gave
New honours to his Fathers Grave.
He don'd a Countenance most sad;
I mean religious, and not mad;
He that will bring new things to pass,
Must able be to change his face,
Pretend occasions for his fears;
If he can't weep, must buy his tears.
Of six fat Sheep he cut the throats,
And five fat Pigs as plump as Goats:
And six fat Heifers to his wishes:
The blood he powred out in dishes:
The Wine from pales he spilt like whey;
Then prostrate on the Tomb he lay
(Had now the Serpent come to sup,
And eat the brave Æneas up.
Marry! I hope 'twas ne're intended,
For then the story had been ended)
And as he lay like a great Calf,
26
But whatsoe'r he said, or cry'd,
Nor Soul nor Father Tit—reply'd.
The Devil a Tit—he said, I say,
But there like stock-Fish, dead he lay.
At his own Charge Æneas could
Not make this sacrifice so good;
His Fellow Trojans therefore bore
The great expence, some less, some more.
Though not by Subsidy nor Pole,
But by a free and willing Dole.
When this was done, they fell to worke,
Debauching more than Jew or Turk.
From right to left the Healths went round,
They roard and sung, and tore the ground.
Æneas with his brave Adventures
Top'd it so long, he made Indentures.
This was apparent after Supper
By a damn'd fall upon his Crupper;
And that he got by cutting Capers.
27
That had so over-pois'd his head,
He took a light, and reel'd to bed.
Now Phœbus gave a new Carere,
And bright Aurora doth appear;
It was no Morn fair in the Cradle,
And by and by fowl in the saddle;
Yet twas a Morn, to tell you truth,
Born with a Proverb in her Mouth.
For Proverb tells ye, Morning Grey
Is always Mother of fair day.
But above all, 'twas the ninth Morn,
The Monsieur then, you know, had sworn
To shew the people many a sight
The women they sate up all night,
To wash their necks and heads to Kemm,
And make their Children fine as them.
The maids that slept with naked Tayle,
Dreamt all of Cakes, and bottle Ale.
Not only Trojans, but Sicilians
Both City dames and Croyden-Gillians,
For ten mile round, were also fine
At place prepar'd, ere clock strook nine.
Young men and maids, Old men and babes,
Lady's in Coaches, durty drabs,
In wooden-heel shoos, and shoostrings blew,
With headlong hast came all to view
The fare renowned Trojan blades;
And eke their solemn Masquerades,
Æneas brought the prizes forth,
Which were to be rewards of worth:
A very noble Porridg-Pot,
Two doublets very finely wrought
The one half, silk, the other Canvas,
Two Flagellets, a Treble, and base:
An Engin, which, if I don't err,
Great Artists call a Nut-Cracker:
Trenchers two dozen, I don't dally,
The which Æneas in a Sally,
Plunder'd from Tent of Agamemnon,
There was no reason to contemn'um
Though they were brown, yet they were good
And purchaz'd with the price of blood.
One of old Priams greasie Hats.
An instrument to murder Cats.
The work of famous Aristander,
Mathematician and Commander;
Who fifty ways could Rats destroy
And wrot thereof a Book in Troy.
A Peuter Bowl enamel'd rare;
Two Slippers, two, and not a pair;
For one was mighty Hectors own,
The other Jason wore alone;
The one was blew, the other green,
Embroider'd both with Gold I ween.
A Gittern whereon Helen playd,
When very young, I mean, a maid.
With many other Rarities
To please the most ambitious eyes;
The which Æneas liberal
Expos'd to view upon a Stall.
Æneas first beat up his Drum;
Then taking Trumpet with his Thumb,
He sounds a Levet Tan, tan, ta, ra:
He blew with such a Si sa ra ra,
Until he got the Piles behind:
Behold the mighty force of Wind!
And then for silence making sign,
With Eloquence the most divine;
Quo he, let us begin by Sea,
And with our Ships commence the Play.
The Vanquisher that shall command
Shall be rewarded out of hand,
With such a prize, as he shall say,
And for a truth affirm it may,
When he came out of Mothers placket,
That he was wrapt in Mothers smicket.
Menestheus, and there hangs a tale,
Chose the good Ship, yclepd the Whale,
Who when he came to Italy,
First founded Memmion Progeny.
To whose geeat deeds, if y'are not privy,
In English read, or Latine, Livy.
Gias a young man well descended;
The next place strove to be commended.
For he was strong and very Chuffish,
And a great diver was for Craw-fish.
Sergestus was the third brave blade,
Who, when he came to Rome, first made
The house of Sergius far renown'd:
Thence Galba came, an Emperor crown'd.
Now this Sergestus shav'd his head:
For why? because his hair was red.
But for the Ship he ruled o're,
'Twas call'd, they say, the good Centore.
He playd all Games at dice all weathers:
And Fowl devoured in their feathers,
For knowledge was not then prepar'd
To turn-pike up their skins with Lard.
Cloantus was the next brave Lad,
In Drawers made of Canvas cladd.
His good Ship was the Scylla nam'd
Himself for little else was fam'd.
Only from him and from his Dame,
They say, Seignor Cluentus came.
These only were the Gallant Boyes
That strove to win Æneas toyes.
Not far ith' Sea there stood a Rock,
Your brains out sooner you might knock,
Then move it, yet because it stood
So near the Shoare, they held it good
To make this Rock Contenders mark,
He that first touch't it was a spark.
Æneas full of wit and wile,
Thought good to throw up cross or pile,
T'avoid contention and more strife
Then he intended; to be brief,
The Galleys having took their place,
The brave Commanders, each with face
Like Lyons bold stood on the Poop,
In one hand Brandy, t'other Rope.
Quo they unto their Gally Slaves,
As every one himself behaves,
Here's this or this, take which you please,
But this I think's most for your ease;
I can assure you 'tis for mine.
Then leaving Rope, take Brandy wine.
That is, like Devils row, not men;
So I and you shall honour gain.
With that a generous heat invaded
Their braunie Arms with Oyl bedaubed,
And if their hearts went pit a pat,
Twas only fearing they knew what.
With speeches thus and courage spur'd,
They wanted nothing but the word.
The signal given, to't they go,
With Head above and Tayl below:
All at one time they make a start,
T'ha seen it would have joy'd your heart.
I'th name of ill luck see the slaves,
How they do cut and slash the waves;
How they do sweat! the more fools they;
They need no Ushers to make way.
In vain the Ocean yells and roars;
You'd think'm rather Wings than Oars.
And for the Ships—not many words,
You'd swear they were no Ships, but birds.
Have you er'e seen on Wilton Plain,
Of gallant Coursers three or twain;
How nimbly forward each one pricks,
While their thin sides the Rider licks?
So through the Sea the straining Galleys
Are forc'd for their Commanders follies.
See how the oyl of heated brows,
Drops from their Foreheads on their Toes,
Streight one the order breaks, and then,
What say's the man commands the men?
You may be sure he says no prayers;
But to be sure, devoutly swears;
Row, row ye Rogues, row for your lives
You'l please the Gods, and please your Wives.
Row Devils, d'ont ye proverbs know?
What Devil drives, that needs must go.
The pleas'd spectators they behold,
And each one wishes, as he would
Have the cause to go. Here prayeth one
For friend, there mother for her son.
With various clamours, various cries
They all be-din th'amazed skies.
Fair Eccho hearing such a clamor,
Resolv'd to make one, as became her,
Replying to the word Courage,
Courage sometimes, and sometimes rage.
Gyas so well his business ply'd,
That he was got a spet and stride
Before the rest: for understand ye,
H'had been no niggard of his Brandy.
Their heads were lighter by a Tun,
Which made the Ship the faster run.
Cloantus follow'd close a Stern,
While t'other nails doth bite, and girn.
His heel alas was heavier much
A damn'd fly-bottom made by Dutch.
The Whale and Centaure jig by joul,
Swam very friendly to the Goal.
But now these friendly Enemies,
Men otherwise discreet and wise;
Seeing themselves approach the place
That gave them honour or disgrace;
Now every one looks on his brother
As if they could have eat each other.
Have you ere seen upon the tiles,
When Moon on tops of Houses smiles,
Two great boar-cats, with sparkling eyes,
Look each on other, while the prize,
Grey Maulkin, couches in their sight,
So Trojans now brim full of spite
Wish that the ships and men also
Might rather to the Devil go.
Or to the bottom of the Sea,
Than that his ship should lose the day.
Gyas who thought his Pilot steer'd,
Too Roomie, and some by-blow fear'd,
Roard like a Lyon; ye damn'd dog,
Why so far off, keep close ye Rogue,
Why Menetus? son of a whore,
I say keep closer to the shore.
But Menetus was deaf as block.
For his experience feard a Rock.
Which if the ship it once should justle,
Yfaith Sir Guyas might go whustle.
Then Guyas in a fury falls,
And yauls and bauls, and calls and yauls.
Hei—Dotard, Pilot mine A---
Hir'd by my foes and that is worse
My youth of honour to deprive.
Close; or the Devil fetch thee alive.
Soul of a dog keep close a shore.
But Menetus would nere the more.
Mean-while Cloantus near at hand,
Slides betwixt Guyas and the Land.
Where Menetus had left the Shore,
O Heav'ns! how Gyas then did roar.
His choler boyl'd up like a Kettel,
And in the heat of all his mettle,
To Menetus he dings amain:
He did not stand with serious brain
T'advise if rashness were a fault;
But in a moment, quick as thought,
Griping his neck, as Poult'rers gripe,
The necks of Turkies, Hens, or Snipe,
He plung'd him headlong in the Sea,
Sans complement or other plea.
Go there, quo he, confounded fop,
Fit but to make the Devil a sop.
And now to fetch Cloantus up,
He takes the Helm in his own clutches,
Quo he, Hell take the slave that grutches
To melt his grease or break his back,
Rather than let my Honour crack.
By this poor Menetus that swum
Not like a stone, but like a Drum,
Had made a shift, a good one too,
To scramble though without a Shoo,
Up to the top of a small Cliff.
No other Chamber, to his grief,
He then could have to dry his hair;
Each one of which might well compare
To the best River in the Isle.
His hary Arms he squeez'd er'e while,
And fil'd at every stroak three pails.
He frown'd and scowld, and bit his nails.
The people that beheld his fall
Yet sorry did not seem at all,
Could not but laugh when they lookt up,
And saw him on the peeked top
Perch'd like an Ape upon his breech.
They could not hear his raving speech;
But judg'd him angry by his face,
And twisting beard at his disgrace.
By this advantage those behind
That neither with their Oars nor wind
Could hope before, now haul and tear,
Thinking to put in for a share.
Sergestus therefore straining hard,
Menestheus leaves i'the rear gard,
Which he disdaining cries outwrite
Ye cursed slaves, you row, you shite.
You work as if your Arms were broke,
Such scoundrel dogs the Devil choak.
What Hospital have I dispeopl'd,
For such a crew so damn'dly crippl'd.
What Goale broke loose to vex my brains,
With fetter'd Arms and Feet in Chains?
There go again damn'd rotten fellows,
Good for just nothing but the Gallowes.
Well Neptune hadst thou been so kind,
T'assist me with one puff of wind,
Thou shouldst have known, deny't who can,
Thou hadst oblig'd a Gentleman.
But since your worship plainly shews,
The little love to me it owes;
And that I must be yet beholding
To these weak slaves, I'le leave off scolding.
Row on my hearts, men of renown,
Redeem your honour and my own.
This picquant speech so prickt their souls,
That they renew their strength in shoals.
The truants dry before, grew wet;
All on a suddain bath'd in sweat.
Sergestus fearing they would rout him,
With doub'e fury layes about him.
But wo for him in time of need,
The more the hast, the worse the speed.
For ill advised of a rock,
The ship with such a wannion strook;
Rash went the Keel, crack went the prow:
Some twenty Oars brake at one blow.
Quo one, thrown off as he was rowing,
I'th Devils name where am I going?
Two hundred men were flung about,
As, Man had been but a dish-clout,
Like chairs and stools in Tavern fray,
Here one and there another lay.
Sergestus, more ith' suds than Sea,
Misfortune would not yet obey.
But made'm go to work again;
And fish the pieces out o'th' Main.
Chear up my boys, there's life in Mustle
With that they kept a heavy bustle;
And presently they got her off.
They row and heave, and blow and puff,
Sergestus daunc'd a Sarraband
To see his men obey command.
Now you must know that in the nick
Of this mischance, Menestheus quick-
Ly had the Centaur over-run.
And seeing now his business done
Oh! are ye there, quo he, stick fast,
Till I come back; I'me now in hast;
Which made Sergestus backward pray
For the misfortune of the day.
While poor Sergestus thus imbroil'd,
Against the worst of evils toil'd,
Menestheus heads young Gyas prow
Quo he, hei—Gyas—what chere ho!
Where's Menetus? gon to Peg Trantum?
Such pocky Pilots who can want'm?
Gyas made no reply for grief;
But there he stood just like Lots Wife.
His Ship like Horse without a bridle
Made a great bustle, yet was idle.
Cloantus straight he overtook:
Cloantus that could hardly brook;
Against his men he disimbogues
A hundred Villains, Thousand Rogues.
But 'twas in vain to keep a pudder,
When men could hardly hold the Rudder.
Thus from hard fortune Heav'n protect us!
Cloantus victor now est victus.
Menestheus now with wind and tide
And acclamations on his side,
Went on without competitor.
'Tis good you see sometimes therefore,
To have the favour of a Whore.
Cloantus seeing this abuse,
Although what seamen seldome use
Yet in a case so necessary,
From Custome yet resolves to vary.
And though as mad as are March Hares,
Compos'd his mind to say his Prayers.
They say he made this brief Oration,
Or rather sweet ejaculation.
Ye Gods, that lodged in the Seas,
Oft succour Vessels in distress,
When overcharged with Hogsheads,
And taking Rocks for feather-beds,
They oft to him become a prey,
That owes the Mannor of the Sea.
And likewise, that which never fails,
You set your Arses gainst the tayls.
Of Galleys, when they want a wind,
And blow'em forward with—behind;
If by your aid my vessel slow
Shall win the prize, I make this vow;
An Ox shall be the Recompence,
Of your Divine omnipotence;
And then to please your appetite,
That in Ragou's take much delight,
The body shall be stuft with parsly;
The Entrails spiced, and pepper'd fiercely.
And for to treat you as my Minions,
I do assure you of Champignons:
With this a present of Greek-wine,
To tope your noses most divine.
And as for Fish, ye then shall surfeit
On Salmon, Gods-head, Carp and Turbet.
This vow attested with Cud—nowns,
Made water in their mouths eft-soons.
Immediately the Sea-Gods all,
And Goddesses both great and small,
To help Cloantus are agreed,
In hopes so well to drink and feed.
So by main strength they gave a shove,
Or whether they the ship did move
Some other way, that makes no matter
But sure I am he got the better;
Leaving Menestheus and the rest
To follow him as they could best.
Cloantus now in Port so safe,
For Joy it made Æneas laugh.
And after that he made a speech
Which did the Company bewitch.
And by a Herauld did proclaim
The worshipful Cloanthus fame.
And then with Lawrel crown'd his head
In token he so well had sped.
Then from his pocket forth he drew
A Leathern pouch, both full and new;
And gave the Mariners, I think,
Some four Deneers a peice, to drink.
And farther for their present Chear,
He set a broach three tunns of beer.
A Brigandine most gay and rich
Cloanth to take he did beseech,
Who though he then for joy did cry,
To take the same did not deny.
It was a very neat designe,
For it was full of Pictures fine.
By graver wrought there might you read,
The History of Ganimed.
Fair Ganimed great Joves Bordachio,
Whose Chin he prickt with his Mustachio.
There the young squire you might behold
With hunting Javelin on his should—
Er, and you'd think he did pursue
A Hart that fled, but neither true.
Just in the nick an Eagle came,
'Twas wild on Earth but in Heav'n tame;
Who being sent for his dear sake
Takes perfect hold with Claws and beak
And streight according to the plot,
Away he carries little Trott.
In vain his play-fellowes pursue
The mighty bird, that swiftly flew.
There you may see his Greyhound Placket;
Seeming to keep a fearful Racket,
Striving to leap into the Air:
What noises he made ye cannot hear.
And well it was 'twas but a picture,
His howling else, as I conjecture,
Cloantus might have made repent,
Th'acceptance of his Ornament.
The Painter yet did well t'express
The Greyhounds love and tenderness.
And Virgil too did well to shew,
That he what painting meant did know.
A Cuiras shap'd in Clouds of Gold,
Menestheus had to have and hold
To him and to his heirs for ever,
They say a fairer was seen never.
It was the Cairas of a Cap—
Tain, that long since had the mishap
(Mishap indeed) for to be kill'd,
By great Æneas in the field.
As fine as 'twas, it seems, the same
Sav'd neither Masters life, nor fame.
This Captain was Demoleon hight,
Now being slain bid him good night.
The Cuiras it was all of Gold,
For twas so heavy that to hold
It in their Arms, nor Sagaris
Nor Phegeus could endure I wiss.
You'd have me tell you, who they be,
No by my truth, Ime not so free.
Two brazen Kettles he gave more,
Two gondola's without an Oar;
Of Latten made, and worth each one,
I guess, about a duccatoon.
As for who 'twas these guifts deserv'd,
Virgil is very much reserv'd.
And sparingly divides the store,
To Cloanth, only, and one more.
Our knick-knacks were more freely giv'n,
But how they'l get'm, that knowes Heaven:
Now they that were contented well,
Were well content by the sequel.
Which made them on the sands to walk,
For Liberty to chat and talk.
As they were making their preambles
Of their atchievments and their gambols,
Repeating one thing ten times over;
Behold! what is it they discover.
Even Sergestus all forlorn;
With broken Oars, and vessel torn,
Making god-wot, a weak endeavour
The Shoar in safety to recover.
He lookt like one quite broke at speirings
After some twenty thousand jeerings.
For you must know he took't in snuff
That any Rock should him out-huff.
But in his passion came too nigh him,
For Rock would not be hector'd by him,
Which brought him unto weeping Cross,
More for the shame than for the loss.
Have you a Serpent ever seen,
With skin so pompous, blew and green.
Taking his pastime on the Road,
When on a suddain the swift load
Of hackney-Coach his chine doth crack,
Tearing his kidneys from his back.
There moves the Snake brisk at the head,
But by the tayl ill followed,
So now the ship, in some part whole,
In some parts full as washing bowl,
And pinion'd quite for want of wings,
Of Oars I mean, or such like things,
Instead of swimming, briskly row'd,
Moves like a Tortoise, only towd,
At length with help of little wind,
(Thanks to the little gale so kind)
And Canvas saile, (live ever they,
That Canvas first did bring in play)
With much ado she made the Port:
Sergestus, looked ala mort.
How'ere Æneas, good man he,
Of poor Sergestus took Pi-tee'
Tis thought there were some shavers there,
Wisht'rather his, than their own share.
Pox on't, quo one, would I had lost,
I had sav'd my bones and yet got most.
For for to comfort up his heart,
And wash his tayl all mire and durt,
Æneas gave him dainty maid;
I mean a Nurse, whatere I sayd,
With too small Children at her brest;
So she could be no maid, 'tis guest.
This woman was Nurse Pholoe hight
She could both read, and pothooks wright,
Her nostrel was so wide and plain,
That you might almost see her brain,
Though Cretan born, yet was she free,
From lying or from thievery.
Her face was something black and fat,
And eke her Armholes smelt somewhat.
She playd upon the Virginals;
With Castanets could dance at balls;
She could preserve, and also starch;
And so to other things we march.
Æneas quitting the sea-shore
Betakes him to a feild; wherefore?
Not so fast Tom; for you must know,
The field was large and wild also.
And Virgil says not to spoyl meeter,
'Twas like a Cirque or Amphitheter.
There sitting on a peice of Timber,
As far as I can well remember,
Æneas that renouned widgeon
These words did speak in language Phrygian.
My loving friends and dear assistants
Twixt you and I there is no distance
I come not here with tales of tubs,
And therefore from your Nolberjobs
Lend me your leathern Lugs I pray,
And listen well to what I say.
If any of you here will run,
You may, if not, let it alone.
Better occasion, friends, believe it ye,
No man can have to shew activity.
Better employment to your mind,
Where can your mighty Lordships find,
Then to bestir your Lordly leggs
In running after Mumblede pegs?
Sa, Sa, then come, make hast and strip;
You know that time doth nimbly skip.
As for your doublets, I shall watch'em:
Hands nimbler than your heels must catch'em:
And he that has a nimble thigh,
Let him here shew it by and by.
For he that with his active pumps,
Can put his enemies to his trumps,
Or fairly winn the first assault,
The Cat hath still left in the mault
Something which I as my great trust is
Shall give to all with equal justice.
This faithful promise being made,
Their hairy bosoms soon displaid.
The Trojans eke and mixt Sicilians
That came to see were many millions,
Or thousands, for what should I ly for?
I fear I have err'd above a Cipher.
But they that Poets read you know
Will never stand for a round O:
But if they should, 'tis hard in my sence,
To be debarr'd Poetick Licence.
Which Poets claim as more emphatick,
Than Conscience free to a Phanatick.
Euryalus, a youth most proper
Shews all to Ladies but his Crupper;
For he had nothing on but's drawers
The first of Trojan clapper-clawers.
My Master Nisus next appears,
He had less shame, but far more years.
For he had nothing but his shirt,
Under his twist with knot begirt.
His love was great t'Euryalus,
A pious love, and not for buss.
Diores next sprung from the Race
Of Royal Priam, shews his face,
With Helymus and Panopes
Hoy day,—and who I pray are these?
Why these were two rich Farmers sons,
Acestes great Companions.
In fair, they hunted, in foul weather,
They drank and play'd and whor'd together.
Patron were next and Salias
The one a bold Arcadian was,
The other an Acarnan brisk,
To run, or cuff, or tumble whisk:
But which was one, or which was t'other,
Maro himself doth not discover.
Why then d'ye think I'le tell ye more.
Than I my self was told before?
Yet this I'le say that Maro could not,
Or if he could, I'me sure he would not
From one was lineally descended
The Croyden Butcher so commended.
The other to make out th'intreague,
Forefather was of nimble Teage.
Of all the rest we say but little,
Since Maro spares to speak a tittle.
All being thus resolv'd to run,
Quo they, to great Anchises son,
With guts discharg'd and bladders empty,
Loe here our selves we do present thee.
Streight-way Æneas sitting boldly
On timber-log of which I told ye.
By kind assistance of his tongue,
Made 'em, they say, this short Harangue
He that of you shall run the best,
By my dead Father three times blest,
In no wise shall repent his bargain,
For hear what I propose ye for gain.
Two darts, both made of Gnossian craft,
Of Ebonie shall be the shaft;
Feather'd with Gold, which seems a Bull,
But that I speak to men not dull.
A Partisan of steel, but such
An one, as you may make as rich,
As any City leading staff,
If you'l be at expence enough.
To the three swiftest in the course
I do design to give a horse.
Though I confess, they have most need
That slowest are, of nimble steed:
But that's all one, I'me bound to praise ye,
And not give horses to the lazie.
This horse shall have Caparisons
Rich as the Queen oth'Amazons.
There boy's, there goes the hare away,
And I think worth the catching, ha!
His quiver eke, and eke his belt,
Cut from the brims of a broad felt,
Embroidered all with work of Gold.
Instead of shoulder knot, behold
A glittering Pearl, three times as big
As a large hen's or a duck egg.
He that cryes hey—for our town,
With olive branch him will I crown.
The third shall have a morrion made
At Argos, where it is their trade.
I will not say how finely don,
He's free to take, or let't alone.
The signal given by the sound
Of twisted trumpet, see the ground
All in a cloud, and such a high one
As wrapt Æneas like Ixion.
Some said that sweat of heel and toe
Would dust allay, but twas not so.
For why to stop each others paces
They kickt in each others faces.
Nisus had got by much the start,
And as he ran, he oft did fart;
Which much endammadg'd them behind,
Having two foes, the dust and wind.
For by this means he got before,
Some two and twenty yards or more.
Nisus behind, but far behind
Ran Salius, like a nimble Hind,
After him ran Euryalus;
And close at his heels Helymus:
Him Diores that was the last,
Seeing'em all in so much hast,
With malice now and rage ore'come,
Gave such a kick upon his bum;
That through the pain of his Posteriors,
He now gives way to his inferiors.
Nisus was just upon the mark,
But see how fate can prove a Turk!
For just ith'nick, he sprain'd his toe,
There lay poor Nisus crying, oh—
He bow'd so rudely to his toes,
As made the blood spin from his nose.
So there he lay as I have told ye,
Swearing like a belfounder, boldly;
When furnace cracks, and metals runn,
As if the Devil were on Dun.
He saw the prize was not for him;
Which vext him more than did his limn.
Yet though he lost his hope and glory,
He had not lost the quick memory
Of his Euryalus, so dear;
For Salias now coming near,
He seiz'd so fiercely on his shoo,
That Salias comes headlong too.
Salias got up, as mad as Weesel,
Dings a good dust at Nisus muzzle;
Nisus holds fast, and which is worse,
Sets his cursd fangs in Salias Arse.
Nisus gripes hard, and rudely tears:
Salias curses, damms, and swears:
Nisus is deaf, and nothing hears,
But keeps him there, spite of his ears.
Euryalus, thanks to his face,
Thus got the Goal, and won the race.
The rabble shout, and tear the Air,
Favouring Euryalus the fair.
They that beheld the real truth,
Nisus and Salius, Arss and Mouth;
Cry'd out hey now for our Town!
Hold Nisus, hold, the Towns our own.
The second man was Helymus;
And Diores the third, so close
He trod upon his heels that day,
Men fear'd a quarrel by the way.
But as it seems, they were more wary:
They'd other fish to fry, then tarry.
Then Salius came with great complaints,
Swearing by all his Gods and Saints,
That they had rob'd him of his fat Ox
While plaguy Nisus seiz'd his buttocks.
Diores intercedes for him,
As one he thought had lost a limb;
That since his luck was like his hurt,
He might have satisfaction for't.
Æneas scarce refraining laughter,
Yet as a courteous moderator,
Come, come, quo he, cease difference,
Ye shall have all due recompence:
Therefore, quo he, as friends embrace,
And kiss now in another place.
And so the injury was repayd,
With Morrion made like Lyons head;
The ears and eyes were all of gold
And eke the teeth, fine to behold.
So rich that Salias not deny'd,
But he was fully satisfy'd.
Then Nisus for to get comfort
Presents himself all mire and dirt,
From head to foot a Branford quag.
About him never a clean rag:
Now you may well observe, quo he,
How my misfortunes vanquish'd me;
And made me look so like a beast,
For being nimbler than the rest.
Æneas could not chuse but smile;
Grieve not, quo he, at Fortune vile;
For here is thy reward; with that
He gave him a most precious Hat,
Of damask silk, it was notorious.
For Feather and for work so curious.
By Didimaon wrought so neat;
Quoth Nisus then, by Mahomet
I'le weare thy hat both morn and noon-day,
On every Holiday and Sunday.
He lyes in's throat, that shall miscall
Our Captain, that's so liberal.
The Race thus finish'd without squabling,
All anger laid aside and brabling,
The Racers well content and merry;
My masters Time for none will tarry;
So said Æneas, the Minheer,
Besides, quo he, bring Cestus here.
Now you must know what Cestus was;
A plaguy Poultice for weak jaws:
A little touch with a weak hand,
And presently a man was brain'd:
A certain cursed Castanet
For men to dance the broken pate.
Two Iron Brickbats, each a Ring;
Which he that best can weild and swing,
To pound his Adversaries Pole,
Was vanquisher of body and soul.
To this same sport, that so men mauls,
Æneas his Companions calls.
Quo he, the man that has the heart
For a prize that is not worth a fart,
To venture brains, or loss of lymb,
Let him come purchase my esteem.
The Victors prize shall be a Cow
With forehead plated you know how:
With plates of silver and of gold,
And linnen vaile about her should-
Ers, white, and delicately starch'd,
Like woman going to be Church'd.
Besides an instrument of death,
Eclep'd a sword, in Ivory sheath.
And eke a Morrion, none oth'worst.
Some said, he would have given that first
But then considering again,
If he gave one he must give twain,
They saw it was the wisest plot.
For purse was his, the limbs were not.
When any one is bruis'd enough,
Quo he, and wishes to leave off;
Let him while he his hands can use,
Hold up his hand, or cry Kings scruce;
If hands be maul'd confoundedly,
Bid some good friend that standeth by.
Thus said the Cestus was brought out
At sight whereof like one devout
They lookt with setled countenance,
The view on't put'em in a trance.
So that for all his cunning coaxing
None seem'd to love this kind of boxing.
At length not fearing Lymb nor torture
Dares appears, a vast Wine-Porter,
Who only could hold Paris tack,
At this same play makes others cack.
Who for to honour the memory
Of valiant Hector had the glory.
With this abominable weapon
To knock down Butes like a Capon.
The best that ever was at cuffing,
Without a Ly or any huffing.
Amyclus vast in strength and burden,
And always bred at the Beargarden,
Begot this Butes on a whore,
That was half woman, half a mare.
When Dares did himself present,
It bred a great astonishment,
His shoulders to behold, all bones,
As big and stronger than Milstones;
His Arms were rather bull-confounders;
In Paper-Mills you see such pounders.
Now the Goliah's strength was all,
As for his brains they were but small;
You would have laught to'have seen the noddy
To shew his mighty strength of body,
How he did vainly cuff the Air.
Boreas himself did not come near;
And swung about his brawnie wrists,
To shew what he could do with's fists.
And when h'had done, to see the Looby
How h'a faign'd to girn, like a great booby,
Sa, Sa, quo he, what is there none
Will let me break nor shin, nor bone.
What nere a Knight that has a mind,
To loose his eyes, and to be blind?
This furious challenge was so dismall,
That not a man would venture his mall.
Trojans, Sicilians, all were dumb,
As if th'had felt the weight of's thumb.
Their Hector's now not worth a fart,
As if th'had neither souls nor heart.
Quo Dares, then the Cow is mine,
To day how bravely will I dine.
For who to Cow hath right more full
Than I that am so like a bull?
With that he took the precious Beast
By both the horns upon her Crest.
Bawling so loud, tell he was hoarse,
Who of ye all now by main force,
In hopes to eat a gallant supper
With fist can Cow set on her Crupper?
Chickens by Jove, you handle Cestus?
You kiss mine Arse. Hei-Captain Festus
(For so he call'd Æneas jeering,)
Must I stay here all day Pickeering?
As if I'had nothing else to choose,
But here stand making Childrens shoos.
Till some fond Caponet shall come,
To be made Gelly by my thumb?
Find me a match that will contest,
Or let me carry away the Beast.
At which one mad, what ayles that fellow?
What ayles, quo he, that Bull to bellow?
Why so much raving, so much tearing?
Wee'l match his cock, for all his swearing.
Acestes through the Rabble flung,
As if a wasp his tayl had stung;
Cud boars, quo he, shall such a thief
With pain so little get our beef?
Fuming he goes to seek Entellus,
Whom, of such language nothing jealous,
He found stretch'd out upon a banck,
Smoaking Jamayca, cursed ranck;
Ye Logger head, quo he, is this
A time to sleep and smoak, I wiss?
When all our honours ly at stake?
Pox o'your drowsie hide—come—wake,—
And shew how thou in times of yore,
Hast cudgel'd many a lusty boar.
Hast thou forgot the prancks and the tricks
Which thou were wont to play with Eryx?
Eryx thy Master at this game?
To whom thou second art in fame.
Cuts-foot! shall daring Dares quell us?
While we have living brave Entellus;
How many spoiles of Butchers bones
Of Weavers Arms, and Dyers stones
Hang in thy Chimney up like bacon?
Of thy renown the certain token?
For shame then let not this wind-sucker,
At our disgrace thus sneer and snicker.
Quoth he, thy words are positive.
Tis not for fear as now I live,
That Dares thus I let alone;
But I am old and feeble grown.
Were I as young as I ha bin,
This Raskal that makes such a din
I'de pounce him so, that you should see,
I'de make him soon cry me mer-cie,
To Cow or Calf without regard,
The slender motive of reward;
Only for glories sake, ere this,
I'had made him stink for fear, or piss.
That this is truth ye know full well
Yet that you may not take it ill,
To shew I speak not words, but deeds;
I'le try one bout at Loggerheads.
If I am beaten, say tis Age,
And no defect of my courage.
Streight he flung down of dismal batterie
Two fatal Engines, not to flatter ye,
Nor yet to chafe your wanton Nerves,
But for to stamp ye like conserves.
Little they said, meant plaguely;
Their very aspect made men flee.
Dares himself, to tell you true,
Likt'em so ill, he look't askew.
For they had on them fearful stains,
Of Eryx blood, and part of's brains.
Eryx who meeting at an Alehouse,
With Hercules of's honour jealous,
Streight fell to blows, from blows to knocks,
The least of which would kill an Ox.
What Eryx got by't, truely I
Think he might well put in his eye.
His eye! alas had there been less put,
They then had living had the Toss-pot.
Dares beholding such damn'd trophies,
Think ye that Dares such an Oaf is,
Quo he, to venture life in field,
With weapons that he cannot weild.
Æneas thinking twas a scandal,
The mortal Engines needs would handle,
But when he felt their weight, quo he,
The Devil handle'em for me.
Seav'n folded Ox-hides stuft with lead,
Some half a Tun in each, they said,
With iron hoops and dev'lish nails,
Such as you see about Cart-wheeles.
Crossing himself, then said Æneas,
Per omnes meretrices meas,
What hideous Tartar with a vengeance
Invented first these fatal Engins?
Puh! quoth Entellus; these are feathers;
Those with which Hercules strapt the Gathers
Of my friend Eryx, (peace be with him,)
And sent unto the Elysian frith him,
Were twice as big and yet the Lubbers
Would weild those mighty Noddle-rubbers
As nimbly at each others coxcombs,
As they had been but little box-combs.
For my part cryes Entellus furder,
I likes this well, I'me cleare for murder.
But yet to shew I'me gamester fair too,
If he'l have other, there they are too,
I'le fight with any, ere spoyl play.
And ye shall cap me, as they say,
If at a blow or two at least,
You guess, not who shall have the Beast.
Then cry'd Æneas drunck with joy,
Troth god a mercy brave old Boy.
Bring me a pair of Maul cheeks hither;
But not so heavy as the other:
Others were brought, and after tryal,
Approv'd without the least denyal,
Both for their bigness and their huffing,
By Doctors in the Art of cuffing.
One takes Entellus; t'other Dares,
Saying a hundred Ave Maries:
For it had almost turn'd his stomak;
Entellus shape did such a shew make.
Such shoulders, Buttocks, bones so hideous,
A Chine so nervous, brest prodigious.
For to say truth he nothing hid;
Both shirt and coat were layd aside.
If shirt he had, for else you know,
What he had not, he could not shew;
And in matter of such weight
Men must be cautious to speak right:
For if he had no shirt, and I,
Do say he had, I tell a ly.
But now behold'em in their traces,
Making wry mouths and Monkey-faces,
They dance Step stately to take aim,
Who first should give the first damn'd main.
At first they slightly seem'd to skirmish,
But straightway fury growing warmish,
One gives the other plaguy palt,
Which was return'd the next assault:
Young Dares was more nimbly stout,
Entellus was the stronger Lout.
With weapons pois'd, and fists erect,
With burning eyes and fierce aspect,
They now lay on sans feare or wit,
As if they car'd not where they hit.
Their Lungs are tir'd and breath in vain,
Their naked Members pant amain.
Such force have bumping blows apply'd,
To Diaphragma, or the side,
Secundum artem, as they knew,
To make men vomit black and blew.
Sometimes a loving blow did miss,
Then t'other was not griev'd I wiss.
Streight you might hear his guts cry twang,
And t'others skul ring with the bang.
While all his reason takes her flight,
T'had been no reason else, by this light.
Sometimes with stroaks strook unawares,
They only rub each others ears.
Dares with many a nimble leap,
At old Entellus head doth skip-
Unweildy he stands stiff and tough,
Without recoyling from the cuff.
While Dares with a dreadful eye,
Stood watching his huge Enemy.
Woe worth that rib which he shall find,
But once ungarded to his mind)
As men that Walls and Castles batter,
Seeke weakest place to make'em totter,
And having found what they intended,
With all their fury thither bended.
Mauling and battering their insistunt,
Though th'had as good perhaps a pist on't.
Thus Dares watching still for harm,
Caught from the bold Entellus Arm,
Such a damn'd lick athwart the back,
As made his very bum-strings crack.
Dares, but how the Devil't twas done,
Is past my apprehension,
Returns him such a thumping quitt,
As for his quo, 'twas out of debt.
These blowes each equalled in stress,
Some twenty pounds or little less.
And Virgil saies in his relation,
That the through force and indignation
With which Entellus strook and mist,
His aged Trunck the Grass-plot kist.
That he fell down all hands agree,
Let them that doubt the truth go see.
And more than that too a shrew'd signe,
They say he fell like mighty Pine.
There lay the huge Entellus sprawling:
For joy the Trojans fell a bawling;
While he enraged at the flounce,
Doth all his Gods at once renounce.
Acestes and Æneas brave,
Both willing the old man to save,
Where er'e they had it, got a Crane,
And so they cran'd him up again;
Being got upon his heeles once more,
Six lustie Common oaths he swore,
Though for his manners such a sot,
That all his thanks he quite forgot.
Having recover'd now his place,
With rage in heart, and shame in face
Finding what ere he yet had done,
But fleabites in comparison.
Quo he, now let him look to his hittings,
By Jove I'le handle him without mittins.
Poor Dares was in great dejection,
Seeing Entellus Resurrection.
He that before thought worst was past,
Seeing his foe so rudely cast,
And therefore sang his nunc dimittis,
Now at the end of all his wit is.
There was no way but guard to keep,
Better h'd been in's bed asleep.
T'other lay's on cuff after cuff,
Not minding whither's skin be buff.
His bended clutches damn'd Memento,
Make flying Dares daunce Coranto's
Entellus bounty fell like hail,
Not sparing either head or tayl.
Dares afraid his reasons house
(Though he had scarce so much as goose)
About his batter'd ears should tumble,
Was half ith'mind in manner humble.
To crave in time a Letter of Licence.
He lik't not banging sans defeizance.
While t'other labors all he can
To make a window to his brain.
Dares was in condition sad,
His face was swell'd big as his head,
His head was swell'd as big as his hat,
And he himself just falling flat
Upon his bloody bruised nose;
When all in hast Æneas throws
Himself between the blowes so thick:
Good faith 'twas well he came ith'nick.
For had he had but one more thwack
Upon his head or his Sto—mack
Dares had given the Crows a pudding;
And Death had come before his Wedding.
For now Entellus Clawes were up,
And falling just was fatal swop.
But just in time Æneas spruce,
And brave Acestes cry'd, Kings scruce.
With coaxing words Æneas mellows
The bloudy heart of vex'd Entellus.
Good Sir quo, he your wrath forbear,
Man stout at Cuffs as ere stole Deere,
Next time shall Dares learn more manners
Then let his wits be his Trappanners,
Thus to provoke a man whose wrists
Can powder Rocks of Amethists;
With nailes like fleas crack Adamants;
And puff down Armed Elephants.
These gentle words made Gaffer Thwacksides
Most patiently lay by his Ox-hides.
Such credit had Æneas there,
Quo he, your will be done Menheire.
Then Sir Æneas, turning face
To him that was in doubtful case;
So bruis'd and batter'd, and so swel'd,
(He scarce could stand unless upheld)
Made him to the best of my memory,
This pithy speech consolatory.
Holding him gently in his arms,
Quo he thou needs not others harms,
For well thy own, without a book,
Now teach thee with both eyes to look
Before thou leapst, and not to venture,
Before thou knew'st thy bold Attempter.
Had not thy Foe been very handsome,
He had destroy'd thee without Ransome.
For now confess and speak as true man,
Do you beleive his hand was human?
As sure as thou wert bang'd to day,
He keeps the Devil himself in pay.
Therefore, if legs will beare thee, go,
Weake boxer of the driving snow,
Go get a Surgeon, Noble Festus,
And dream no more of pounding Cestus.
The poor young knave all soare with banging
His neck upon his shoulders hanging,
Eyes sunck in a black quag of butter,
Or flesh well churm'd, few words could utter.
But softly cry'd to show's respects,
Farewell Sir, till I see you next.
He could no more in Prose nor Rhyme,
Nor had he courage at that time
To bring his fingers to his chin
To see what teeth remain'd within.
His beard was all bedaub'd to see a
With a damn'd foul Haimoragia.
The place where Nose stood, you might know it
But nere take hold on't for to blow it.
The Trojans they came all to much him,
He wish'd 'em damn'd that did but touch him.
For so his batter'd Corps did smart,
That every touch went to his heart.
Then Dares two Companions chose,
To comfort up his broken Nose.
But both the Crown and eke the beast
Entellus got by dint of fist.
Who now like toad on washing-block,
With conquest swell'd, thus gan to mock.
Weak Trojan fops both young and old
That enviously this day behold
The Victory that I have won;
Come see what more I could have done,
See against what a firking foe,
Your Dares stript from top to toe!
Had ye not drag'd his Homo-Plater
From our inevitable slaughter.
You should have seen how I had rub'd him,
And mong the Devils belly bub'd him.
This said his furious fist he clutch'd,
And twixt the horns so rudely touch'd.
The Bulls head that from head of Bull
Came brains and blood a Kettle full.
So died the Cow without adiew,
Or making will in minutes few.
Then with a heart full of repentance,
And mind prepar'd for pious sentence,
He cry'd beholding the blew skie,
With doleful face and blubbring eye.
Eryx, to thee, my Counter-part,
I give this Bull with all my heart,
For Dares sake, who has my prayers
The best of living Cudgel—players.
Here will I Chappel build, or Pest-house
Where horns shall hang and eke my Cestus.
If Dares dy here shall he be
Entombed likewise, close by me.
No question we shall then agree.
They that Entellus saw turn'd Priest,
Yet knew he was a damn'd Atheist,
Rais'd such a shout at his conversion,
As shook the Earth like Ague tertian.
So long this hubbub did continue,
'Twas fear'd that some would break a sinew.
Which made Æneas in compassion,
And for another dirty fashion,
Which was to have no shouting known,
At any speeches but his own.
Enough quo he, enough I say;
How long must I hear Asses bray?
I'de rather a had a pack of knaves,
Than such a crew of simple slaves.
Enough this curs'd Cow killing sport,
There's none but one the better for't;
Come bring me out your Bows and Arrows
And if ye needs will kill, kill sparrows.
Thus having got some good Companions,
All in a row like ropes of Onions,
Quo he bring hither Galley Mast,
And set it me upright and fast;
First having ty'd at top of it,
A Pigeon, or a Clout beshit,
It matters not so mark be hit.
The lots were thrown into a hat,
Or Helmet, 'tis the same thing that:
At which they fum'd like a hot tost,
To see that Fortune rul'd the rost:
For each one fear'd to be put out
From being one should hit the clout.
Æneas said he'd have but four;
And who durst say then, he'd ha more,
But four then drawing, stone-blind Chance
Ilippocoons Honour did advance.
A fatal murderer of wild-Ducks,
A foe profest to Dawes and Rooks;
The second fool whom fortune favours
Was Mister Mnesteus, a Sea-Mavors,
Whose head with Olive had been crown'd,
For swimming well, and not being drown'd.
Of whom I shall say little more,
Since I have said so much before.
Master Eurytian was the third;
He'd hit a Curran in a turd.
Which made him cry'd up for an Archer.
His brother yet was much the archer;
His brother Pandarus, wot ye well,
Who taking bow of pliant steel,
Without so much as one bear leave,
The Cuckold Menelaus gave
Such a dam'd prick through buttocks each,
That Helen nere so claw'd his breech.
Acestes was the last forsooth,
Who although old, with so much Youth
Would needs contest for skill and strength;
What he got by't you'l know at length,
Hippocoon his goggle eyes
Casting a thousand times to the skies,
First hit the top oth'mast, I trow:
A lower shot, had been below:
The bird with that affrighted, try'd
T'have flown away, but she was ty'd.
And so she only flapt the Ayr;
He did no more as I can hear;
While bird thus flutter'd on the wing,
Menestheus shoots and cuts the string:
Whether the bird, do you now think,
That but ere while for fear did stinck,
Now finding Leve to be light,
Did not make hast to mend her flight.
But shame on all Ill luck say I,
That faster then a bird will fly,
For as the Bird was on the wing,
Eurytion snapt his fatal string:
Though ere he drew, he made a prayer,
To Brother Pandarus in his ear,
The which his brother soon did heare.
And so as bird was tripping off,
(Not dreaming but she had been safe)
The Arrow peirc'd her pretty rump,
And made her turn up belly trump.
'Twas then no time to take advice
How to avoid the fatal slice;
Streight with a vengeance down she come,
Like one that feard not bruising bum.
He that the day came after fair
Was now Alcestes, by compare.
Ther's nothing left for that old fop,
Less he would set his own head up.
But what said the Facetious Drole,
Quo he I'le not be made a fool,
Suppose that yonder sate an Owle,
Where bird was ty'd; why may not I
My brother hit? by Jove I'le try.
He drew, but wonderful to see
His dart became a prodigie.
A prodigie that friz'd the hair
Of every morral that was there.
'Twas here a dart, but mounting higher
I'th air becomes a flame of fire.
Like whizzing Rocket up it goes
Had Owl been there, 'thad sing'd his nose.
Or else as Pub. says better far,
Like volant or crinited starr.
In Eng'ish certain flying jigs,
Or stars with flaming Perriwigs.
The flame continued while it could,
That is to say while there was wood,
But fewel wanting due recruite,
The fire went out without dispute.
Upon the whimsical adventure
Was many a thousand peradventure;
A hundred strange Enthusiasms;
Lights new as that, and fond phantasms
The most renowned Augurs ply'd
Their painful studies, and discry'd
A thousand stories and keck shoes,
To lead the doubtful by the noses.
The Phrygian Conjurers could not rest
Sicilian Bards were all possest.
Nay all the Rabble had a maggot,
Bigger in head the stick of faggot.
Æneas in a pious frolick
Pulls from his neck a certain relick,
It was a chain of gold, at which,
There hung a medal very rich.
'Twas all of broyld St. Lawrence left,
And gravd upon an Agat haft;
To that annext in Christal hung
The very Cole that burnt Saint's tongue.
Thus gifted came he to Acestes;
Great Sir, to you my deep protest is,
That for an Archer there was none
Was ever fit to wipe your shoon.
Who would the Devil himself not blame,
Not having seen, to credit fame?
For who can think that did not see,
That thou couldst little bit of tree
In th'Ayr at distance come to fire,
By Jove it maketh me admire.
Fore George, as I am come of woman,
Jove owes thee kindness more than common.
As for my part, the heavens protect thee,
Like my dead father I respect thee,
And than my Mother ten times better,
If now Fly, then hell me fetter.
What though the prises all be gon,
Thou shalt have presents of our own,
To satisfy for thy ill luck,
That mark so surely from thee took.
With that he made him three low leggs
And gave him the foremention'd jigs.
And more then all that, something more,
(Which I it seems forgot before.)
A goblet of a massie weight,
A work emboss'd most accurate,
This cup so trimm'd with fine devices
Was for a fairing, sent Anchises
By Cissus a good friend of his,
Who living, Club did never miss;
But being dead, yet every night,
In dear remembrance of old Knight,
Anchises made the Goblet weep,
Till both forgot, he fell asleep
To make the Ceremony stanch,
He Crown'd him with an Olive branch;
A most exceeding favour that,
Because he seldom wore his hat.
Eurytion nothing envious
To see him first rewarded thus,
Æneas wisdom did approve;
Æneas thank't him for his love,
And gave him eke a good reward;
For civil men by civil regard
To generous spirits, seldom loose.
Menestheus had his old shooes.
Hippocoon two nutmegs guilt.
For where the text imploys a guilt,
By mentioning no gifts at all;
We judge the gifts were very small.
From Archerie to Horsmanship
They next proceed with spur and whip.
Epirides the first appear'd
VVith chin conceal'd in monstrous beard;
He was Ascanius Pædagoge.
A most austere Ars-firking dog
But yet esteem'd as learn'd a Sir John,
As ere was bred up at the Sorbon.
He could compose a Catch or Cannon,
And verses make with George Buchannan.
Native of Rion in Auvernia,
But plagu'd with a disease call'd Hernia.
Soon as he came before his betters
He shewd himself a man of Letters,
Making a hundred ugly scrapes,
Like Scholar that the Courtier apes.
Æneas soon as one could wake him,
Spies formal fool, and thus bespake him;
Epirides where's my Cock-Robin?
Will he a while leave placket-bobbing,
And for a Steed leave riding wenches?
Then give him Horse fit for his inches.
Where's all the other younger fry,
Have they their Coursers fit to fly,
To let the world know by their fooling;
Their parents gave'em no mean schooling?
Go quickly then and fetch'em all:
Epirides with legs so smal
And Thighs as dry as Kixes, though
As swift as arrow out of bow,
Made so much hast, that some protest,
He leapt full thirty foot at least,
At every leap; for such men fly
Alway, when th'are in Masters eye.
Returning like the flowing surges,
With a whole troop of young St. Georges,
They were as plump, and loo'd as fairly
As hogs, that ly all day ith' Barly.
Their Horses like a several bride,
Both necks and tayles with Ribands ty'd.
Inn's a Court gentlemen all they were,
And every one a sling did weare.
Not to sling love-songs cross the way,
But slugs and stones in deadly fray.
Arrows and Bows did others weare,
Which Parents gave at Bartholmew Fair.
For then were no such things to smoak ye,
As fierce Dragooners under Okey.
But others like your French gens d'armes,
Had Spears and Lances for their Armes.
Their right paws were in Gantlets cas'd,
And roaring feathers hats embrac'd.
About their necks they Cuirass had,
Of double guilded Lattin made.
Some for right mettle did them hold;
But all that glisters is not gold.
Three Captains lead three neat squadrons,
With Scarfs of Lindsey Woolsey Aprons,
For in three squadrons were the Chuffs,
Distinguished one by Spanish Ruffs.
The next were hats with Steeple-Crowns,
The third the Switzers Bonnet ownes.
One of these Chiefs that was no dastard,
Of poor Politus was the Bastard.
The younger son of Priamus,
Who knockt down Neoptolemus;
In Pages Trouzes up he mounts,
A Carriers horse, by all accounts,
But such a one, that dress him well
Would clear out run the Divel of Hell.
And sooner would he leap a River,
Than some a Cart-rut should get over.
The next to him was Asys hight,
Julus love, and sole delight.
Though to be plain, if all tales are true,
More for his tayl, than for his vertue.
What Horse he had, Gelding or Mare,
Virgil is pleas'd to speak to spare,
But questionless the trade he drove,
Got him well mounted for his Love.
Some men admire why such a one,
Is favour'd by a mighty Don;
But search the grass well with your eyes,
And you shall see where the Snake lies.
Ascane as young, lastin degree,
Was yet the first in quality.
His gaudy coat and feather'd hat
Made all the people cry, who's that?
But far beyond his glittring garb,
His Courser was a Chestnut Barb.
Not such a shap'd or nimble steed,
Did all the fields of Sidon breed.
'Twas Didos guift, though when she made it,
Had she known all, he ner'e had had it.
This Horse was only fit to show
On Whitsun-holidays or so;
He was a perfect Ram for Capring;
And many a Knight for all his vap'ring,
Unless he held fast by his Crest,
Would put him in danger of his Chest.
But let him all his jades tricks try,
Run Valley low, or Mountain high.
Or play the Divel on all four,
Julus sate him like a Tower,
So well he govern'd hand and foot,
As he had been George Castriot,
Or one of Don of Austria's Riders;
Which he's a Coxcomb that considers.
For all the other meaner squires
Acestes common Hackneys hires.
Geldings for some, for others Mares,
With Fillies pricking up their ears.
The Trojans clapt their hands by dozens,
Seeing the Children of their Cousens.
Here some of whom they knew the Mothers,
There some their own, though got by others,
And every one as fine as fippence,
And and all prepar'd to run for thrippence.
See youth, cries one, on yonder Mare,
Mothers n'own boy, both lip and haire
'Twas pretty thus to hear'um read,
How living face was like the dead.
Such pretty cheeks with pretty dimples,
You shall not see in both the Temples.
Though then they look'd a little whitish,
For fear least Courser should prove skittish.
At length when every pretty Elf
Had in his Saddle fix'd himself.
Epirides with nimble flack,
Makes whipcord briskly cry smack-smack.
At which they all alarum take;
Far better, than their Steeds, divining
By sound of whip-cord, Pedants meaning.
Streight the three squadrons they divide
In bodies two, or Maro ly'd.
Some fly away, while some pursue,
And at their backs with switches flew.
But feeling smart, make head again,
Ribrosting t'others for their pain.
Weary of being thus lambasted,
Eft-soons to milder sport they hasted.
Here three to three, there two to two,
There more, (hey toss what's here to do!)
They prance and frisk it to and fro;
Foe runs in full career at foe;
When to accord the sturdy knee,
And skil ful trip, with Hait or Gee,
(Which horses learn without much trouble)
In full career they make a double;
So Huntsmen say; but Horsemen, turn;
Turn let it be then, for I scorn
Much contradiction; that's to say,
They did as girls that dance the Hay.
These pretty Turn-again-Whittingtons,
Made by these Gentlemens eldest sons
Their cross careirs, Turns whole and half,
Which Father made and Mother laugh,
Were like the Labyrinth so pretty,
Once fram'd by Dædalus the witty,
To Minos Sarjeant-Carpenter.
Within whose walls as men did err,
Or go astray, or vainly wander,
Not knowing tricks of gay Meander;
So these young sprouts of Troy renown'd,
Sometimes their Horses turning round,
Now running in a streight careir.
And sometimes doubling here and there,
Like nimble Dolphins seem'd to play,
Like Dolphins in the Lybic Sea.
When Boreas bold, thank Boreas for't,
Is pleas'd not to disturb their sport.
Then out comes Fleabit and Tregonnel
And hey for Strawberrie, that last won all.
Some run for Crowns, and some for Guinies,
The cunning Jockies cheat the punies.
But last of all, that which was most,
They rais'd a most confounded dust.
And thus you see these youths so cranck
Shew'd Parents many a pretty pranck
Which afterwards Julus, He
That founded Albas fair Citee.
Becoming King most powerful,
Did recommend by special Bull,
Unto his Race of Romans bold,
For to observe and eke to hold,
As sacred to their fathers names,
By Title of the Trojan Games.
And thus you see what slight occasions
Men take sometimes to Cajole Nations
While wise Æneas thus imployes,
His time in gaping upon boyes,
Fortune, who being of Greek exrraction,
(And therefore of the Grecian faction)
Hated a Trojan at her heart;
Resolves to shew him to his smart,
Another of her plaguy dog-tricks,
Juno, old Priam's dear Exec'trix,
More full of mischief than a Page,
Plump as a Tike with female rage,
To trusty Gossip, Iris hies,
A practis'd bitch in telling lies,
Juno her mind did soon impart,
Which Iris had as soon by heart,
Quo she, for words there needs no pumping,
I know your meaning by your mumping:
So brib'd with promises and dollars
She flung an old scarf ore her Colours;
Away she cuts her airy passage,
To prosecute her damn'd Ambassage.
And as she went, her legs she shews,
Full neatly clad in crimson hose
Well garter'd too, above the knee,
As they affirm, that both did see.
Slow was her pace, for being plump
She fear'd to fret her tender rump.
From Arcady, without a wherry,
She quickly crost the Ocean ferry.
And cause the Road was straight and free,
She was not long from Sicily,
Where she beheld, in Armor glittering
The lazy Trojans scaperloytring
The Fleet was left like Theif in Mill,
Or to be gon, or stay, at will.
Nor Dog to bark, nor boy to baul,
What ever danger should befall;
Both boys and dogs were all ago
To see my Lord Æneas show.
The women by themselves afar,
Were private from these acts of warr
As 'twere in publick hugger mugger,
Clawing away the sack and Sugar,
Till crying ripe, the wine intices
Some to bewail defunct Anchises.
While others at misfotnune wept;
Well well-quo one, time was I kept
As good a house for East-cheap beef,
As she that was Church-Wardens wife;
And for good Pewter and for Brass
And dining Room rub'd with a gloss,
I had as good as most ith' Parish
Though some perhaps might make more flourish
How long shall Ladies nice of stomack
Be forc'd to ly in swabbers Hamock?
How long shall women bred so squeamish?
Ly nose in ars midst Hogo's flemmish?
Others that were more finely Maudlin
Call'd poor Æneas Goose and Codlin,
Come, come, I love to speak, cries one,
Theres Captain turd, let him alone,
Let him but drink while he can see,
He cares not what betides poor we,
He crams his guts as at a wedding,
While we are glad of hasty pudding.
Where is the City that he promis'd?
I doubt I shall be ana—tomiz'd.
Ere that day come: he might ha'had
Cities enough, would he have staid;
But he would needs have to'ther toss.
Your rowling stones ne're gather moss.
While cups and tongues thus fast do move,
As both for nimbleness had strove,
Iris that saw their drunken posture.
Quits shape divine betokning moisture;
With staff in hand, on eyes spectacles,
Like wife of Doricles, her self she tackles,
And old Witch that had liv'd so long,
She had forgot that she was young,
For the reversion of whose joynture,
The fifteenth race had cry'd, God Saint her.
Though she were old, yet she was subtle,
And to the purpose well could prattle.
My Grannam Berce she was hight,
Though dark with age, the Ages light.
Mischievous Iris in this form
Appears in midst of all the Chirm,
To whom as soon as she could make,
'Em hold their clacks these words she spake,
Poor women, Poor unhappy women!
Companions only now for Seamen,
How long with grief must ye contend,
Oh where shall be your sorrows end?
Had ye not better that the Dolopps
Had long since cut ye into Collops?
Then from vexation of your souls
Y'had lain secure among the Moles.
Rather than thus to live at Sea
Half dead with hunger every day:
Your hands that fanns did only dandle,
Now forc'd the rugged Oar to handle,
Distress'd inhabitants of Pinnaces.
To whom the Sea destruction menaces.
That live in boats, where ticks and fleas,
Without respect of persons seize:
Rather then lead a life so fell,
Women had better live in Hell.
'Tis now seaven years, or little less
That you in cold and heats distress,
Poor wrinkled weather beaten Madams
Lead by the noses like Jack Adams,
In vain do hunt the flying shore,
Which Fate has promis'd ten times ore;
A tale that I shall nere believe,
Nor pin my faith upon her sleeve.
Let her go on and vainly coax
Our credulous leader, John, Anoaks.
A quartan Ague stop his Lungs.
For him we have endur'd these wrongs;
But heres anow, lets have a care:
Why can't we tarry where we are?
What ailes this Country? tis both good
And Govern'd by our flesh and blood.
Let's build a Town among our kindred,
Our freind Acestes nere will hinder't.
There we may play our wanton tricks,
Not subject to the Oceans freaks.
Our Country Gods I pity too,
Han't they a fine time? what think you?
Snatch't from the rage of Grecian Robbers.
To be made Cabin-boys and Swobbers
Fools! can we hope for so much joy,
Ere to revisit your old Troy?
Or Symois, fam'd for Morehens plenty?
Or Xanthus nere of Gudgeons emptie?
Then let's go burn those pocky Vessels;
That are not fit to harbour Weasels.
This night my candle burning blew,
Cassandras Ghost my Curtains drew,
Quo she, why wander ye like Tartars?
In Sicily take up your quarters.
What will ye always live like Barnacles?
That may have Towns like Athens, or Naples,
Always be swimming on the Seas,
Like VVidgeons or like Soland Geese?
Burn then those fly-boats, why d'ye tarry?
If husbands chafe, ye have your Lurry.
Behold four Altars newly rais'd
Where sacrifices lately blaz'd.
To Neptune for some curtesies,
VVhere fire enough in Embers lies:
Find you but hearts, the Gods find flames,
Courage then, thrice Immortal Dames.
Take leave of damn'd seafaring trade,
And of the ships make a Grilliade
Be you but bold, I don't say cruel,
The Gods find fire, and yonder's fuel.
This having said the plaguy strumpet,
Takes up a brand, and stead of trumpet,
Blowes the hot coal, to wake the flame,
Go then, she cry'd ith' Devils name.
VVith that so swift she flung the brand,
As sent it soon to journeys end.
And where as soon, it was apparent
He dally'd not to tell his arrant.
Dames, that before nere saw such jigs,
Began to stare like roasted Pigs;
They star'd so long you would have thought
Their very eyes would have dropt out.
They knew not what to think or say,
For all the stuff they had, there lay.
Here soft compassion to her Kettle,
There pity'd pinner stops her mettal.
Another gins her cheeks to wet,
In mercy to her Cabinet.
At length steps up an ancient Matron,
That Priamus by strings of Apron,
Had often lead, as being one,
Had nurs'd him many a Girl and Son;
Whom she their Primars also taught,
And firkt their royal tayls for naught.
This venerable peice of Age
Hight Pyrgo, more than Midwife sage;
With voice like Kitten, when it mews,
Thrusting her neck out like a Goose,
Quo she, let's not be over hasty,
To credit Beroe, she's too too testy.
Come, come my friends, I know what's what,
And I must tell ye—I smell a Rat.
She Beroe, shee's a lying slut;
She's no more Beroe, than my Scut.
Alas poor Beroe's sick a bed,
Scarce an hower since I drest her head.
And then she swore the Devil take her,
That there was nothing worse did make her;
Then that she could not come to sip,
And chat with us and smoke her pipe;
'Tis not for want of Love or Grace,
She came not hither to say mass
For old Anchise in purgatorie.
But her old age, which makes me sorry.
To see her made a stalking horse
And that for mischief, which is worse,
No, no, this wench ith' Devils name,
Is come from Heav'n from Jove's good dame.
Her Armpits smel of Rosemary,
Which strongly prove divinity.
Her lively aire, and feet's proceeding,
And eke her voice speak heav'nly breeding
To little purpose thus spoke Pyrgo:
For not one soul believ'd her—Ergo.
Yet in respect to female Wizard,
They stood a while twixt hauk and buzzard.
They liked well Sicilian plains,
But Fate had so be whim'd their brains
With windmils they should have in Latium,
Which for the present much did dash'em.
Iris that had no mind to dally
Seeing 'em thus stand shally shally,
Streightway her self disberoiz'd,
And in true shape re-Deitiz'd,
She through a cloud her bow displays,
And on her wings, with heavenly grace,
A whole and even course she steers;
Then in a moment disappears.
There was no need of doing more,
The Trojan women now give ore,
And now like boys in fields of Moor,
That go to pillage Baud and Whore;
In Troops most fiercely diabolic,
They take in hand their cursed Frolic.
Like people mad, or stark possest,
Acting what only rage thought best.
They sack and pillage Neptunes Altars,
As if they nere had read their Psalters;
Fate kiss their tayls, and for Æneas,
They count him but a silly flea as.
By these fierce Queans thus arm'd with fire
In hand and tayl and upper tire.
The Galleys kindled look like Torches,
The flames are not for Spanish Marches,
But rather a la mode de France,
From Rope to rope they nimbly prance.
The Turk himself upon the Ropes,
Nere shew'd such strange Curvets and hops.
The Ropes they eat for Sausages
And on the Sails for Tripes they seize.
They drest'em not in Cook-room though,
But eat the Cookroom up also;
Yet could not master all, be't known,
They left the Furnace as a bone.
Down to the water they eat all,
But would not drink because 'twas small:
Flames nere so thirsty, understand ye,
No liquors love, but Wine and Brandy.
Eumelus all in hast comes posting,
To see what Women were a roasting;
The flames did so their business handle,
That he might see without a candle,
The matter was too too transparent,
And so he quickly had his errant:
Back he returns with horrid din,
But nimble sparks too fleet for him
Had told before how stood affairs;
Alarum'd by those Messagers,
The people all make to the shore:
Ascane a horseback gets before;
Damn'd jades quo he the Devil confound ye;
But fires your friend, the Devil drown'd ye.
What witchcraft thus possest ye all,
To burn our ships both great and small?
A madness Græcian rage outstrips,
They burnt our houses, left our ships.
The pox possess and burn' you next,
A crew of whores, that Hell perplext,
And sent from thence a plague to us.
Was ever Treason black as this?
Consuming now our boats and ropes,
Y'have burnt the last of our hopes.
Accursed Bitches, with black souls,
Blacker then are your own made Coles.
Whore's only fit to be strappado'd,
And back and belly bastonadod.
Y'have brought me here with such a flutter,
That I have almost broke my crupper,
Besides the loss of all my sport,
Hell take your plaguy bon-fire for't.
This having said, with fury tost,
Like a blind man that staff had lost,
He threw his cap so hard toth'ground,
As made it back to's hand rebound.
Æneas like a Lacquie puffing,
Comes in at length swearing and huffing;
He look't like one besides his wits,
Tore his Montero all to bits;
But when the whole he understands,
He falls a gnawing both his hands;
Then in a passion out he roars,
Where are these jades, these plaguy whores!
Incarnate Devils, I'le quit their scores.
But cunning bitches once the feat
Being done had, sounded a retreat;
Whip they were gon forsooth to piss,
So general the engagement is;
That you might sooner cut your throat,
Than see a Smock or Peticoat;
They had all found Daughter and Mother
In Rocks or Sands some hole or other.
Some in the next Woods refuge take,
For all their Arses buttons make,
Seeing the Jades prancks they had plaid,
For Iris then they backward pray'd.
And spending on Juno in Follies free,
Of Billings-gate Artillery.
More mad at her that drell'd'em in,
And jeeres'em now out of their skin,
But still the Vessels they burn on,
Till massie Timber's almost gon.
Wise work i'faith for bearded Chins,
To leave their Ketches at thirteen's.
The colking made so thick a smoak,
As would a Chimney-Sweeper choak.
Hero's like fools stood gaping on;
But all their strength was useless grown.
Æneas being sore distrest,
To see the Devil make such a Feast,
Bedaub'd and plaister'd with despair
Clawes his white skin and tears his hair,
To see his ships where hopes rely'd
By durty drabs so fricassy'd.
He tore his garments all he had
Which made his smirking Taylor glad.
And then his hairy brest he shewed
All scabby to the multitude;
At length with voice of dying man,
He cross'd his Arms, and thus spoke on
O Jove of whom I never fail,
To speak kind words, though in my Ale.
Ay me behold this fatal blaze,
Such nere befel in all your days;
For give me leave to let you know so,
Troys fire to this, was but a so, so;
If you have any kindness for's,
And that grey Mare ben't better Horse;
If there be any smooth Bordachio
That does affect your smooth Mustachio,
I mean, mong us, let me be him,
I'le strive to please ye with my limb.
You shall have with me, bate extortion,
An ample younger brothers portion:
If this be pleasing to your Grace
Laugh not but weep, lend weeping face,
And all the tears that you can shed
On ships with flames invironed;
Damn'd Sempstresses wou'd they were whipt,
Have all our grand affairs unript;
And therefore pour L'amour de dieu
Give us some Rain or else some snow;
They'l be more welcome now, good sooth,
Then showers in Harvest after drouth:
Rain pailfuls therefore for a spurt
E'se I'le not give thee sixpence for't;
You have a Sun, that with his bucket
Knowes up again well how to pluck it.
Sometimes ye rain down hei! ding dong,
Giving your water for a song.
That Holland felt, nor drap de berry,
Are able to withstand the ferry.
And when we pray but for Ale quart,
Thou giv'st us Winchester measure for't:
Then if thou lov'st me, deare Jove, rain,
Rain for thy life and fill the main,
Till like a piss pot it run ore;
Never came rain to purpose more.
Give our your ships that are so hot all,
But one kind dram of thy full bottle.
Æneas had no sooner ended,
But a vast deluge straight descended:
Showers did not fall, but rather Rivers,
The Trojans look't like Cornish divers:
Æneas wash'd, be gan to scowl,
Though but just now, his very soul
He would have pawn'd for but one brimmer;
The Gods could hardly please his humour.
To tell ye how fine feathers lookt
Like Capons tayles, how scarfs bemuck't
Had chang'd their Curious glossie hues,
Or the sad fate of Calves-skin shoos,
Tis needless quite, for you may guess;
But's ships were in a better case;
For fire and water falling out,
The water hap't to be most stout,
And quickly maugre their welch heat,
Over the flames the victory get.
So that what ever did remain,
Was surely saved by the rain.
But though your flames were quench'd & ceas'd
Æneas could nor well digest
These blowes of Fate, which made him muddy
And put him in a deep brown study,
What course to steer, or how t'apply
To present evils, remedy.
Long was he in a great quandary,
Whither to go his ways or tarry.
Pox o'these Oracles quo he,
They tell no truth that I can see.
Then up steps, an old Cinque and Quatre
Grave Nautes hight, whom Jove wise daughter
Chose from his Cradle for her Crony,
And with him often top'd Stypone.
A desperate Casuist, for he well
Aquinas knew, and Zabarell.
And for predictions a meer Lilly.
Only for Rimes Drammatic silly.
This Doctor taking streight, forsooth,
Æneas words out of his mouth
Æneas th'art a fool quo he,
Leave fretting and be rul'd by me.
Fortunes a Whore, a meer Gilflurt,
And scorns the more, the more ye court,
Let her be Pox't and hang'd for a Jade,
Throw thy Cap at her, and her aid.
Go boldly, without fear or wit,
And hit that nail that will be hit.
Yet cause two heads are better than one
Acestes of your privy Coun—
Cel swear, he'l hear thee with a whistle;
And he's as shrew'd a man as Cecil.
For th'old and lame, knock'em oth'head;
Tis just like having babes to bed.
For lazie Truants, man or woman,
Turn'em a grazing on some Common:
Where if the rain or wind do trouble,
They may build huts with lome and stubble.
Which then, they for a Town may take,
And call't Acestes for his sake.
But all the lusty swaggering blades,
That can both fight and ravish maids,
Burn Villages and plunder Towns,
Swear oaths of all dimensions,
Keep these as th'apple of your eye,
And be their chief, I'le tell ye why,
To murder all the innocent flock
That live by Tibers little brook.
But which shall shortly toss her nose,
Bove all the floods Jo: Moxon knows;
And spite of all their teeths compel
'Em to pay Custom and Ga---bel
Thus ends the Prophet Gaffer two-shoos:
For standing cold without Galoshoes,
The rhume his nose did tickle sore;
And sneezing forc'd him to give ore.
Æneas wits gon wool to gather,
Heed neither speech nor Nautes neither.
His busie pate was full of parables,
His soul was prickt as twere with sparables;
Thus paind like maid that weareth willow,
Quo he, Ile go consult my pillow.
Now was the night as dark as pitch is
And near the hour that favours witches;
When he tossing and tumbling lies,
Like one in Love above the eyes.
Or vexed soul, when houer is fled,
That Maudlin swore she'd come to bed.
Thus lying as he lay, tormenting
His brain-sick noddle with inventing,
Up comes the Reverent Anchises
In the same Doublet, Hose and Breeches
As he was always wont to weare;
For knowing how his son did feare,
Besides those Devils, Rats and Ferrets,
Those other Devils called Spirits,
And that an Apparition might
Make mad work with the sheets by night
Thought fit to come in shape lest dreadful
To him that had his brest and head ful.
The Curtains drawn, he sets him down,
And then quo he, God save ye Son.
Up start's Æneas in a huddle,
And all affrighted, piss'd a puddle.
For fear, though they were strong as Ludgates
Will set ope any Mortal's Floodgates.
When Father cry'd in deep affection,
Hold water Son, ye have protection.
Go ring your shirt, and leave surmises
I am your Father old Anchises.
Jove that has quench'd the raging fire,
According to your own desire,
Has sent me here your brains to settle,
And not with fear your mind to nettle.
As for the old and the decrepit,
To that which Nautes says, give credit:
Tis good advice, and as sententious,
As Huncks ere gave to son licentious.
But those that can both say and do,
Let them go all along with you,
To Tiber's stream, to which are bred nigh
A warlike race, of a strange kidney.
That sling a Devil and half at once,
If e're they meet with any affronts.
But ere ye go to this same war,
You must go under ground d'y'heare,
And visit sable Pluto's mannor.
Where I shall be to do thee honour;
And make thee welcome as a Prince,
As hath the old saying been long since.
For I am no tormented soul
But walk about upon parole.
In fields Elysian without fetters;
Where all your souls mark't with red letters,
Their several sports and pastimes take,
With Cards, or Bowles, or Ale and Cake.
There you shall meet a curteous Sibill
Which there men credit next the Bible;
She'l go before you with a Lanthorn
To shew you ev'ry corner, and turn:
There you shall hear me make Tautologies.
Concerning all your Genealogies.
Which every day I con by heart,
As Children say their mornings part.
So Son adieu, the day appears;
I dare not tarry for my ears.
For when the Sun awakes the Daw's,
Hobgoblins eyes always draw straws.
Æneas in a plaguy fear,
Sneaks out his head and cries who's there?
But having now the night-Mare slain;
And rung his wits all in again,
He springs upon his tayl anon;
Quo he, what Father gon so soon?
Not stay and take a dram oth'bottle,
After the pains of so much twattle?
How is your heart so cruel grown?
So short a visit, and be gon?
Return again my dear Dadda,
And hear how well I yet can say,
Pray Father pray to God bless me:
That silly fear should so oppress me?
And make me thus forget all grace:
Dog in a Doublet as I was.
Then out he goes for tinder box,
But by the way so hard he knocks
His Princely shins against a Chair,
That passion urg'd could not forbear;
Quo he, pox take this dog my father,
To lead me thus I know not whither;
I warrant it an Inch-Incision,
The Devil take him with his vision.
But by and by when pain was over,
And senses did their seat recover,
His anger cooles, and he repents
Of his ungracious complements.
To make his peace he smoak'd the Room
With Frankinsence or some perfume.
A consecrated Cheescake next,
If I am not besides the Text,
(Though Lipsius and the German gang
Of Pedants only fit to hang,
Say 'twas a Fool) which merits faith
As giv'n to one that had no teeth.)
He gave old Vesta, old indeed,
Sh'had liv'd five thousand years a Maid;
Now call'd the Goddes mumble-Crust.
This offring finish'd, and in post
His mattins said, and Ave Maries,
He's fix'd again for new figaries.
He goes to find the Rabble out,
He tels his tale; they laugh and flout;
Until he swore by his Virginity;
And then they could not in civility
But credit every word he said.
Acestes readily obey'd,
And without making long discourse
Promis'd'em all his utmost force,
Æneas not to spoil his plot,
Resolves to strike while the Iron's hot.
He streight calls out the old and feeble
And women most unprofitable,
And all the dainty, Lazie blouses,
That ships forsake to live in houses,
He only kept with him the stout,
Such as would hold all weathers out
Of which one man would cudgel four,
And four would ribrost half a score.
In number few, but great in heart,
Not valuing danger of a fart.
The ships were presently repair'd,
New Oars are fram'd, new masts are rear'd.
New taffata Jacks and silken streamers
For this new moddel had no Dreamers.
A toyl that words have quickly ended,
For what's soon said, is soon amended.
Æneas now Surveyor turns,
Gets him a Plough, and beasts with horns,
And most gentilely like a Clown,
Scores out the Moddel of a Town;
The Streets, the Lanes, and Market places,
Exact like Troy with all her graces.
Their Concubines apartiment,
And privies most magnificent
Acestes laugh'd untill he puk'd,
To find his Honour thus be-duk'd,
Makes law's a hundred more then twenty;
And Officers close stool to empty.
Then where they never were before,
To Venus, that Celestial whore
Upon the mountain, Erycine,
He makes a Temple, and a Shrine,
To lay Anchises bones therein,
And of the order Jacobin,
He Consecrates a lazie Priest,
Whose office 'twas in dirty vest,
Before a Taper always burning,
To howl out ditties full of mourning.
Thus having got a little quiet
They fell to junketting and riot;
Nine days in gluttony they toyl,
And drink like Shoomakers the while;
Till now the Ocean calm and gay
Tell's em 'tis time to take away,
The Southwind blows, but makes no bustle,
More then to call'em with his whistle.
The longest day must have an end,
And friend at length must part with friend.
So 'tis with them, now season calls,
Of force they must pack up their Awls.
The Galley-rosters then began
To howl and blubber, and take on;
The women loath to ly alone
Are all now frantic to be gon.
Æneas, who had words at will,
Begs'em with patience to be still;
Sometimes he laughs, sometimes he cries,
As Cunning sway'd his drolleries.
Twenty deluding tricks he us'd,
And so their female brains amus'd,
That they were well content to yeild,
And to the Conquest quit the Feild.
O heav'ns now what a noise is here!
Of humble servant, thine my Deare,
Farewell my Joy, farewell my Love,
Farewel my Hony, Duck and Dove,
They kiss, they cry, they laugh, shake hands,
Embrace and hugg, and on the Sands
Th'had taken their last leave, some think,
Had Captain giv'n'em the least wink.
Three Sheep are to the Tempests slain,
To keep'em in a merry vain.
And then for Eryx that town Bull
Four Heifers from the Herds they cull.
The Anchors weigh'd, all ready now,
Æneas stands upon the prow,
With Olive branch upon his brow;
As thus he sate in Princely pomp,
On a Portmantle easing Rump,
A young tarpaulin Jacka lent
Brought him a cup of musty Tent;
What's this quo he, the juice of Toads?
'Tis well enough, 'twill serve the Gods:
With that he powr'd it down the Main,
That drank it, as't had been Champain.
The guts and Garbadge of each beast,
He gave the Tritons for a feast.
For with the Brisket, Chines and Ribs,
Trojans themselves had fil'd their cribs.
The Seas thus pleas'd with Sail, and Oar,
They part from the beloved shoar.
You would have sworn, had you been near
That all the Kent-Street Broom men there
Had empty'd all their leathern geare,
Nothing was extant to your views
For a whole mile but Womens shoos.
Thus in old shoos their wishes flew,
While they look on and wish for new:
And so return from viewing fleet
With tongues more clamorous than their feet
Venus the while a slut most crafty,
And mindful of her white boy's safety,
Bids Coachman harness Flanders Mares,
And streight to Neptune she careirs.
Neptune, it being long Vacation,
For want of better recreation,
With Oyster shels, and rocky flakes
Was busie making Ducks and Drakes;
But when he saw the Lackerd Coach,
He left his sport and makes approach,
Bless me, quo she, what mean you so
Your noble pastime to forego?
In truth I blame my rudeness for't;
That thus hath made you leave your sport,
With voice more lulling than a lute
She had so charm'd the Sea-green Brute,
Madam quo he, kissing her hand,
I were not worthy my command,
Should I not all things set a side
When such a Dame, so near ally'd
Whom I love more, than you can guess it,
Shal honour me with such a visit;
Good now what wind has blown you hither?
Some plot of Juno upon the weather:
Y'are in the right on't, on my Honour
She plagues my heart out, pox upon her,
'Tis scarce a month but in despite,
She burnt up all my sons whole fleet.
And would have gridled him himself,
But that the pretty harmless Elfe
Has a good faculty to ball it,
When any mischief does befall it.
In all our heav'nly Court there's none
But hates her like a Scorpion.
And Jupiter's a Hobby-horse,
He does not kick her out of dores
As one would kick a dog or bitch.
She has the Devil in her breech.
Time that brings all things to an end,
Can't bound the malice of this fiend.
The Laws of Fate she chops and changes,
As all things mov'd upon her hinges.
What need I tell you, you well know,
She's nothing else but fire and Tow.
But t'other day, in Lybic Seas
What a Combustion did she raise!
Attempting those her wild fegaries
Within your Highness territories;
But that your Grace, I humbly thank ye,
Seeing how meanly she did rank ye,
Were pleas'd to take good cognizance
Of puffing slaves Irreverence,
And so cornub'd'em, that I think
Their windy holes began to stink;
And then the sneaking sons of whores
Pull'd in their horns, like Cuckolds Currs,
That find by letters intercepted,
How well their stately heads are grafted.
But tempests missing her desire,
She seeks to work her ends by fire;
But then her husband by a shower
Stopt the damn'd progress of her power.
That which remains, I beg your Grace
To let your Seas keep smiling face.
Let only gentle Zephyr be
Your Highness courteous Deputy.
And for those testy Aquilo's
Chase'em like Hornets from my nose.
Let Son at Tyber safe arrive;
And for so doing, as I live.
My Maids shall work ye against Easter,
A pointed Band worth twice a tester.
I tell you this, as I am modest
Upon the word of a true Goddess,
Dear Madam, why such words as these?
You are sole Mistress of the Seas.
From thence you came: The Seas were mad,
If they for you no kindness had.
And therefore vex your self no more,
I'le make the winds your breath adore.
I'le have a care of your young man,
The same that Doe has of her fawn:
Fair Simois and Xanthus both
I call to witness upon Oath
The large effects of former care;
Achilles when, great man of War,
Assaulting Troy, a bold adventure,
Your dapper Son would needs incounter
And like to have his brains knockt out,
In cloud I rapt him, as in clout,
While his fierce foe in vain pursu'd,
And th'Air as vainly hack't and hew'd
I have the same protection still,
The same intention and good will;
And for the sake of your bright eyes
He ne're shall want what in me lies.
Moreo're to shew I love him well,
I'le give him passage into Hell.
Faress and regress to his wishes,
As he were one of my own Fishes.
The Lady hearing so much mercy,
Dropt him a very delicate Curtsey.
The King of floods then gave command,
And Coach is tackled out of hand;
Coach by two Hippopotams drawr,
Not Dolphins as the Learned fain
And on the billows then he drives
The pace of Princes and their wives
At his approach the Sea becalms,
The waves as quiet are, as Lambs;
Winds clap their tayls betwixt their legs,
Like Chaplain took at Baudy Pegs:
The Scene was chang'd quite through the main,
All cover'd now with Neptunes train.
He to shew Lady Coz. his Port
Had summon'd all t'attend his Court.
First the Promoters of the Sea,
His Sarjeants and his Catch poles, they
Were certain Monsters, th'ugliest Rogues
That ere were seen, upon Sea-Hogs.
Whales of all sizes, sorts and shapes,
With noses made like squirts for Claps,
Whence they could spout ye with a vengeance
Whole Rivers, like my Lord Majors Engins.
These Glaucus lead, a man of note,
In scallop shel instead of Boat.
And all the way he play'd most fine
Upon a Trumpet call'd Marine.
Ino's Executor Palæmon
Rid mounted on a good fat Sammon;
Old Triton second in the Empire,
Rode in a Chariot frindg'd with Sampire:
A Scallop lin'd with mother of Pearl,
Which six large Oysters nimbly whirle
Phorcus the next most eminent
Brought a whole a ragged Regiment
Riding with dirty shirts on Sharkes,
All dammy Boys, and Hect'ring Sparkes;
Next Thetis with her Sallow jowl
Rides monuted on an ambling Sole;
And next to her was Melite,
Behind her man upon a Ray.
Fair Panope a Virgin still,
Bestrides an o'regrown Mackaril.
Cymodoce brings up the Rear,
Upon a nimble Didapper.
Such was the worshipful procession
Made by the Chiefs of Sea-born Nation:
Æneas at the weather smiles,
A smile in length above three miles.
Men might have seen his heart untroubled
Caper Coranto's through his doublet,
Among the ships there's not a lazy one,
All by the fore-lock take Occasion;
Their sails are full, and Seamen brisk,
Some go to sleep, and some to Whisk,
The gale works for 'em, while the Ships
All keeps their course, their Amm'ral keeps
That steer'd by Palinure, a head
The body of the whole Fleet lead
Starboard, or Larboard, or No near,
How e're he steer'd all others steer,
The Rowers all the Season blest,
That gave them so much time to rest,
And all lay down upon the plancks
To recreate their weary Flanks.
While Pilots with their eyes, like Owles,
Look out for Sea-marks, and for sholes,
The rest, without the aid of Poppey,
Or juice of Lettices, so nappy,
So soundly slept, that some men swore
Their very souls where heard to snore,
When, lo, a little Urchin whipster,
A god cal'd, but more like a Tapster,
That by his good will would never waken,
But sleep all day in rusty Bacon,
This demi-god is Deaths one brother,
Tis well sh'has him, sh'has nere another.
This drowsie Soul drops from the stars,
Dispels the Mist, that hid his Arse,
And thus like a dissembling Knave,
For Palinure provides a grave.
Like Phorbas clad, quo he, dear Friend
What harm dost thou thy self intend
By watching thus? aside thy care:
And sleep a while, while weather's fair,
And I'le be careful till you wake
Of Galleys, that no harm they take.
Follow your Fools advice that please,
I'le sleep no sleeps, by Gods good grace:
Who sent you here with this blind story?
Thus Palinure frumpt young John Dory.
This bold young Sophister howe're
Continued still to buzz in's Ear'.
He beggd him ore and ore again
To clear his eyelids, but in vain,
For Palinure he could not coax:
Friend, quoth he, y'are in the wrong box.
Is this a time for me to snort,
Knowing the burden I support.
How should I answer to be found,
I fast a sleep, Ships fast a ground?
My Master, great Æneas, sure
Would give much thanks to Palinure.
A scalded dog the Kitchen bauks,
So we have had enough of rocks,
The little God, but hugeous Devil,
Finding perswasions nere so civil,
Would not prevail, draws out a jelly,
The colour I can hardly tell ye,
With this same oyl, not oyl of Violet,
He rub'd the Temples of the Pilot,
Who, without dreaming o the Fleet,
Falls flat on's belly fast a sleep.
When on a sudden part of the steerage,
Not well repair'd or out of meer age.
Whips off, and Pilot, heav'n knows how,
Only that Virgil says 'twas so,
Went with a murrain altogether,
A strange mischance in such good weather,
And therefore wise men guess it rather,
(Though bad excuse by Virgil made,
Is better than t'have nothing said)
That the old man too much had drank,
And going to sh--- fell off a plank.
However 'twas, wak'd with the fall,
He vainly to his Mates did call,
For he was drown'd, and mischief done,
Away th'unlucky God doth run.
How e're the Ships steer a right course,
For Neptunes promise guides their oars,
Though some conjecture they did well,
Rather by hap, than by good skill.
Tell by and by the Rocks approaching,
Where Syrens live, all day debauching,
Æneas by good chance lookt out,
And seeing Ships so neer a rout,
Thought Pilot either drunk or dead,
And that without his present aid,
The Ships would be at six and sev'ns,
He goes to see: but then O Heav'ns!
Th'astonish'd Mortal quickly found,
That Palinure, Good man, was drown'd,
The Galleys swom at seven and six,
Like blind men groping without sticks,
And now they gan approach the stones
That lookt all white like dead mens bones,
And yet the waves neer shallow shore,
Lay howling day and night for more.
Æneas, whiter than his Cravat,
Saw 'twas nothing for man to laugh at;
'Twas time i'faith for him to work,
The which he did like any Turk;
And streight though night, and hard put to't,
Got sea room, and good way to boot;
He wrought, but could not sing a noat,
Like merry Coblers under stals;
For grief had spoild his Madrigals;
But for his Pilot, now a sleep,
A hundred sighs he fetch'd ful deep;
He puft, and heav'd, and roard, and snob'd,
To see himself of Pilot rob'd;
Ah my Dear Friend, his noddle shaking,
That now must sleep for want of waking,
Whom sleep it self, hath taken napping,
And strangled in the water dropping,
Naked upon some forreign shore
Thou shalt be cast and seen no more;
Though if no Porpoise eat thee up,
Nor Sturgron on thy carkass sup,
Time may perhaps bring thee to light,
Till then, Dear Palinure, good Night,
And bright Aurora doth appear;
It was no Morn fair in the Cradle,
And by and by fowl in the saddle;
Yet twas a Morn, to tell you truth,
Born with a Proverb in her Mouth.
For Proverb tells ye, Morning Grey
Is always Mother of fair day.
But above all, 'twas the ninth Morn,
The Monsieur then, you know, had sworn
To shew the people many a sight
The women they sate up all night,
To wash their necks and heads to Kemm,
And make their Children fine as them.
The maids that slept with naked Tayle,
Dreamt all of Cakes, and bottle Ale.
Not only Trojans, but Sicilians
28
For ten mile round, were also fine
At place prepar'd, ere clock strook nine.
Young men and maids, Old men and babes,
Lady's in Coaches, durty drabs,
In wooden-heel shoos, and shoostrings blew,
With headlong hast came all to view
The fare renowned Trojan blades;
And eke their solemn Masquerades,
Æneas brought the prizes forth,
Which were to be rewards of worth:
A very noble Porridg-Pot,
Two doublets very finely wrought
The one half, silk, the other Canvas,
Two Flagellets, a Treble, and base:
An Engin, which, if I don't err,
Great Artists call a Nut-Cracker:
Trenchers two dozen, I don't dally,
The which Æneas in a Sally,
Plunder'd from Tent of Agamemnon,
29
Though they were brown, yet they were good
And purchaz'd with the price of blood.
One of old Priams greasie Hats.
An instrument to murder Cats.
The work of famous Aristander,
Mathematician and Commander;
Who fifty ways could Rats destroy
And wrot thereof a Book in Troy.
A Peuter Bowl enamel'd rare;
Two Slippers, two, and not a pair;
For one was mighty Hectors own,
The other Jason wore alone;
The one was blew, the other green,
Embroider'd both with Gold I ween.
A Gittern whereon Helen playd,
When very young, I mean, a maid.
With many other Rarities
To please the most ambitious eyes;
The which Æneas liberal
30
Æneas first beat up his Drum;
Then taking Trumpet with his Thumb,
He sounds a Levet Tan, tan, ta, ra:
He blew with such a Si sa ra ra,
Until he got the Piles behind:
Behold the mighty force of Wind!
And then for silence making sign,
With Eloquence the most divine;
Quo he, let us begin by Sea,
And with our Ships commence the Play.
The Vanquisher that shall command
Shall be rewarded out of hand,
With such a prize, as he shall say,
And for a truth affirm it may,
When he came out of Mothers placket,
That he was wrapt in Mothers smicket.
Menestheus, and there hangs a tale,
Chose the good Ship, yclepd the Whale,
Who when he came to Italy,
31
To whose geeat deeds, if y'are not privy,
In English read, or Latine, Livy.
Gias a young man well descended;
The next place strove to be commended.
For he was strong and very Chuffish,
And a great diver was for Craw-fish.
Sergestus was the third brave blade,
Who, when he came to Rome, first made
The house of Sergius far renown'd:
Thence Galba came, an Emperor crown'd.
Now this Sergestus shav'd his head:
For why? because his hair was red.
But for the Ship he ruled o're,
'Twas call'd, they say, the good Centore.
He playd all Games at dice all weathers:
And Fowl devoured in their feathers,
For knowledge was not then prepar'd
To turn-pike up their skins with Lard.
Cloantus was the next brave Lad,
32
His good Ship was the Scylla nam'd
Himself for little else was fam'd.
Only from him and from his Dame,
They say, Seignor Cluentus came.
These only were the Gallant Boyes
That strove to win Æneas toyes.
Not far ith' Sea there stood a Rock,
Your brains out sooner you might knock,
Then move it, yet because it stood
So near the Shoare, they held it good
To make this Rock Contenders mark,
He that first touch't it was a spark.
Æneas full of wit and wile,
Thought good to throw up cross or pile,
T'avoid contention and more strife
Then he intended; to be brief,
The Galleys having took their place,
The brave Commanders, each with face
Like Lyons bold stood on the Poop,
33
Quo they unto their Gally Slaves,
As every one himself behaves,
Here's this or this, take which you please,
But this I think's most for your ease;
I can assure you 'tis for mine.
Then leaving Rope, take Brandy wine.
That is, like Devils row, not men;
So I and you shall honour gain.
With that a generous heat invaded
Their braunie Arms with Oyl bedaubed,
And if their hearts went pit a pat,
Twas only fearing they knew what.
With speeches thus and courage spur'd,
They wanted nothing but the word.
The signal given, to't they go,
With Head above and Tayl below:
All at one time they make a start,
T'ha seen it would have joy'd your heart.
I'th name of ill luck see the slaves,
How they do cut and slash the waves;
34
They need no Ushers to make way.
In vain the Ocean yells and roars;
You'd think'm rather Wings than Oars.
And for the Ships—not many words,
You'd swear they were no Ships, but birds.
Have you er'e seen on Wilton Plain,
Of gallant Coursers three or twain;
How nimbly forward each one pricks,
While their thin sides the Rider licks?
So through the Sea the straining Galleys
Are forc'd for their Commanders follies.
See how the oyl of heated brows,
Drops from their Foreheads on their Toes,
Streight one the order breaks, and then,
What say's the man commands the men?
You may be sure he says no prayers;
But to be sure, devoutly swears;
Row, row ye Rogues, row for your lives
You'l please the Gods, and please your Wives.
35
What Devil drives, that needs must go.
The pleas'd spectators they behold,
And each one wishes, as he would
Have the cause to go. Here prayeth one
For friend, there mother for her son.
With various clamours, various cries
They all be-din th'amazed skies.
Fair Eccho hearing such a clamor,
Resolv'd to make one, as became her,
Replying to the word Courage,
Courage sometimes, and sometimes rage.
Gyas so well his business ply'd,
That he was got a spet and stride
Before the rest: for understand ye,
H'had been no niggard of his Brandy.
Their heads were lighter by a Tun,
Which made the Ship the faster run.
Cloantus follow'd close a Stern,
While t'other nails doth bite, and girn.
36
A damn'd fly-bottom made by Dutch.
The Whale and Centaure jig by joul,
Swam very friendly to the Goal.
But now these friendly Enemies,
Men otherwise discreet and wise;
Seeing themselves approach the place
That gave them honour or disgrace;
Now every one looks on his brother
As if they could have eat each other.
Have you ere seen upon the tiles,
When Moon on tops of Houses smiles,
Two great boar-cats, with sparkling eyes,
Look each on other, while the prize,
Grey Maulkin, couches in their sight,
So Trojans now brim full of spite
Wish that the ships and men also
Might rather to the Devil go.
Or to the bottom of the Sea,
Than that his ship should lose the day.
37
Too Roomie, and some by-blow fear'd,
Roard like a Lyon; ye damn'd dog,
Why so far off, keep close ye Rogue,
Why Menetus? son of a whore,
I say keep closer to the shore.
But Menetus was deaf as block.
For his experience feard a Rock.
Which if the ship it once should justle,
Yfaith Sir Guyas might go whustle.
Then Guyas in a fury falls,
And yauls and bauls, and calls and yauls.
Hei—Dotard, Pilot mine A---
Hir'd by my foes and that is worse
My youth of honour to deprive.
Close; or the Devil fetch thee alive.
Soul of a dog keep close a shore.
But Menetus would nere the more.
Mean-while Cloantus near at hand,
Slides betwixt Guyas and the Land.
38
O Heav'ns! how Gyas then did roar.
His choler boyl'd up like a Kettel,
And in the heat of all his mettle,
To Menetus he dings amain:
He did not stand with serious brain
T'advise if rashness were a fault;
But in a moment, quick as thought,
Griping his neck, as Poult'rers gripe,
The necks of Turkies, Hens, or Snipe,
He plung'd him headlong in the Sea,
Sans complement or other plea.
Go there, quo he, confounded fop,
Fit but to make the Devil a sop.
And now to fetch Cloantus up,
He takes the Helm in his own clutches,
Quo he, Hell take the slave that grutches
To melt his grease or break his back,
Rather than let my Honour crack.
By this poor Menetus that swum
39
Had made a shift, a good one too,
To scramble though without a Shoo,
Up to the top of a small Cliff.
No other Chamber, to his grief,
He then could have to dry his hair;
Each one of which might well compare
To the best River in the Isle.
His hary Arms he squeez'd er'e while,
And fil'd at every stroak three pails.
He frown'd and scowld, and bit his nails.
The people that beheld his fall
Yet sorry did not seem at all,
Could not but laugh when they lookt up,
And saw him on the peeked top
Perch'd like an Ape upon his breech.
They could not hear his raving speech;
But judg'd him angry by his face,
And twisting beard at his disgrace.
By this advantage those behind
40
Could hope before, now haul and tear,
Thinking to put in for a share.
Sergestus therefore straining hard,
Menestheus leaves i'the rear gard,
Which he disdaining cries outwrite
Ye cursed slaves, you row, you shite.
You work as if your Arms were broke,
Such scoundrel dogs the Devil choak.
What Hospital have I dispeopl'd,
For such a crew so damn'dly crippl'd.
What Goale broke loose to vex my brains,
With fetter'd Arms and Feet in Chains?
There go again damn'd rotten fellows,
Good for just nothing but the Gallowes.
Well Neptune hadst thou been so kind,
T'assist me with one puff of wind,
Thou shouldst have known, deny't who can,
Thou hadst oblig'd a Gentleman.
But since your worship plainly shews,
41
And that I must be yet beholding
To these weak slaves, I'le leave off scolding.
Row on my hearts, men of renown,
Redeem your honour and my own.
This picquant speech so prickt their souls,
That they renew their strength in shoals.
The truants dry before, grew wet;
All on a suddain bath'd in sweat.
Sergestus fearing they would rout him,
With doub'e fury layes about him.
But wo for him in time of need,
The more the hast, the worse the speed.
For ill advised of a rock,
The ship with such a wannion strook;
Rash went the Keel, crack went the prow:
Some twenty Oars brake at one blow.
Quo one, thrown off as he was rowing,
I'th Devils name where am I going?
Two hundred men were flung about,
42
Like chairs and stools in Tavern fray,
Here one and there another lay.
Sergestus, more ith' suds than Sea,
Misfortune would not yet obey.
But made'm go to work again;
And fish the pieces out o'th' Main.
Chear up my boys, there's life in Mustle
With that they kept a heavy bustle;
And presently they got her off.
They row and heave, and blow and puff,
Sergestus daunc'd a Sarraband
To see his men obey command.
Now you must know that in the nick
Of this mischance, Menestheus quick-
Ly had the Centaur over-run.
And seeing now his business done
Oh! are ye there, quo he, stick fast,
Till I come back; I'me now in hast;
Which made Sergestus backward pray
43
While poor Sergestus thus imbroil'd,
Against the worst of evils toil'd,
Menestheus heads young Gyas prow
Quo he, hei—Gyas—what chere ho!
Where's Menetus? gon to Peg Trantum?
Such pocky Pilots who can want'm?
Gyas made no reply for grief;
But there he stood just like Lots Wife.
His Ship like Horse without a bridle
Made a great bustle, yet was idle.
Cloantus straight he overtook:
Cloantus that could hardly brook;
Against his men he disimbogues
A hundred Villains, Thousand Rogues.
But 'twas in vain to keep a pudder,
When men could hardly hold the Rudder.
Thus from hard fortune Heav'n protect us!
Cloantus victor now est victus.
Menestheus now with wind and tide
44
Went on without competitor.
'Tis good you see sometimes therefore,
To have the favour of a Whore.
Cloantus seeing this abuse,
Although what seamen seldome use
Yet in a case so necessary,
From Custome yet resolves to vary.
And though as mad as are March Hares,
Compos'd his mind to say his Prayers.
They say he made this brief Oration,
Or rather sweet ejaculation.
Ye Gods, that lodged in the Seas,
Oft succour Vessels in distress,
When overcharged with Hogsheads,
And taking Rocks for feather-beds,
They oft to him become a prey,
That owes the Mannor of the Sea.
And likewise, that which never fails,
You set your Arses gainst the tayls.
45
And blow'em forward with—behind;
If by your aid my vessel slow
Shall win the prize, I make this vow;
An Ox shall be the Recompence,
Of your Divine omnipotence;
And then to please your appetite,
That in Ragou's take much delight,
The body shall be stuft with parsly;
The Entrails spiced, and pepper'd fiercely.
And for to treat you as my Minions,
I do assure you of Champignons:
With this a present of Greek-wine,
To tope your noses most divine.
And as for Fish, ye then shall surfeit
On Salmon, Gods-head, Carp and Turbet.
This vow attested with Cud—nowns,
Made water in their mouths eft-soons.
Immediately the Sea-Gods all,
And Goddesses both great and small,
46
In hopes so well to drink and feed.
So by main strength they gave a shove,
Or whether they the ship did move
Some other way, that makes no matter
But sure I am he got the better;
Leaving Menestheus and the rest
To follow him as they could best.
Cloantus now in Port so safe,
For Joy it made Æneas laugh.
And after that he made a speech
Which did the Company bewitch.
And by a Herauld did proclaim
The worshipful Cloanthus fame.
And then with Lawrel crown'd his head
In token he so well had sped.
Then from his pocket forth he drew
A Leathern pouch, both full and new;
And gave the Mariners, I think,
Some four Deneers a peice, to drink.
47
He set a broach three tunns of beer.
A Brigandine most gay and rich
Cloanth to take he did beseech,
Who though he then for joy did cry,
To take the same did not deny.
It was a very neat designe,
For it was full of Pictures fine.
By graver wrought there might you read,
The History of Ganimed.
Fair Ganimed great Joves Bordachio,
Whose Chin he prickt with his Mustachio.
There the young squire you might behold
With hunting Javelin on his should—
Er, and you'd think he did pursue
A Hart that fled, but neither true.
Just in the nick an Eagle came,
'Twas wild on Earth but in Heav'n tame;
Who being sent for his dear sake
Takes perfect hold with Claws and beak
48
Away he carries little Trott.
In vain his play-fellowes pursue
The mighty bird, that swiftly flew.
There you may see his Greyhound Placket;
Seeming to keep a fearful Racket,
Striving to leap into the Air:
What noises he made ye cannot hear.
And well it was 'twas but a picture,
His howling else, as I conjecture,
Cloantus might have made repent,
Th'acceptance of his Ornament.
The Painter yet did well t'express
The Greyhounds love and tenderness.
And Virgil too did well to shew,
That he what painting meant did know.
A Cuiras shap'd in Clouds of Gold,
Menestheus had to have and hold
To him and to his heirs for ever,
They say a fairer was seen never.
49
Tain, that long since had the mishap
(Mishap indeed) for to be kill'd,
By great Æneas in the field.
As fine as 'twas, it seems, the same
Sav'd neither Masters life, nor fame.
This Captain was Demoleon hight,
Now being slain bid him good night.
The Cuiras it was all of Gold,
For twas so heavy that to hold
It in their Arms, nor Sagaris
Nor Phegeus could endure I wiss.
You'd have me tell you, who they be,
No by my truth, Ime not so free.
Two brazen Kettles he gave more,
Two gondola's without an Oar;
Of Latten made, and worth each one,
I guess, about a duccatoon.
As for who 'twas these guifts deserv'd,
Virgil is very much reserv'd.
50
To Cloanth, only, and one more.
Our knick-knacks were more freely giv'n,
But how they'l get'm, that knowes Heaven:
Now they that were contented well,
Were well content by the sequel.
Which made them on the sands to walk,
For Liberty to chat and talk.
As they were making their preambles
Of their atchievments and their gambols,
Repeating one thing ten times over;
Behold! what is it they discover.
Even Sergestus all forlorn;
With broken Oars, and vessel torn,
Making god-wot, a weak endeavour
The Shoar in safety to recover.
He lookt like one quite broke at speirings
After some twenty thousand jeerings.
For you must know he took't in snuff
That any Rock should him out-huff.
51
For Rock would not be hector'd by him,
Which brought him unto weeping Cross,
More for the shame than for the loss.
Have you a Serpent ever seen,
With skin so pompous, blew and green.
Taking his pastime on the Road,
When on a suddain the swift load
Of hackney-Coach his chine doth crack,
Tearing his kidneys from his back.
There moves the Snake brisk at the head,
But by the tayl ill followed,
So now the ship, in some part whole,
In some parts full as washing bowl,
And pinion'd quite for want of wings,
Of Oars I mean, or such like things,
Instead of swimming, briskly row'd,
Moves like a Tortoise, only towd,
At length with help of little wind,
(Thanks to the little gale so kind)
52
That Canvas first did bring in play)
With much ado she made the Port:
Sergestus, looked ala mort.
How'ere Æneas, good man he,
Of poor Sergestus took Pi-tee'
Tis thought there were some shavers there,
Wisht'rather his, than their own share.
Pox on't, quo one, would I had lost,
I had sav'd my bones and yet got most.
For for to comfort up his heart,
And wash his tayl all mire and durt,
Æneas gave him dainty maid;
I mean a Nurse, whatere I sayd,
With too small Children at her brest;
So she could be no maid, 'tis guest.
This woman was Nurse Pholoe hight
She could both read, and pothooks wright,
Her nostrel was so wide and plain,
That you might almost see her brain,
53
From lying or from thievery.
Her face was something black and fat,
And eke her Armholes smelt somewhat.
She playd upon the Virginals;
With Castanets could dance at balls;
She could preserve, and also starch;
And so to other things we march.
Æneas quitting the sea-shore
Betakes him to a feild; wherefore?
Not so fast Tom; for you must know,
The field was large and wild also.
And Virgil says not to spoyl meeter,
'Twas like a Cirque or Amphitheter.
There sitting on a peice of Timber,
As far as I can well remember,
Æneas that renouned widgeon
These words did speak in language Phrygian.
My loving friends and dear assistants
Twixt you and I there is no distance
54
And therefore from your Nolberjobs
Lend me your leathern Lugs I pray,
And listen well to what I say.
If any of you here will run,
You may, if not, let it alone.
Better occasion, friends, believe it ye,
No man can have to shew activity.
Better employment to your mind,
Where can your mighty Lordships find,
Then to bestir your Lordly leggs
In running after Mumblede pegs?
Sa, Sa, then come, make hast and strip;
You know that time doth nimbly skip.
As for your doublets, I shall watch'em:
Hands nimbler than your heels must catch'em:
And he that has a nimble thigh,
Let him here shew it by and by.
For he that with his active pumps,
Can put his enemies to his trumps,
55
The Cat hath still left in the mault
Something which I as my great trust is
Shall give to all with equal justice.
This faithful promise being made,
Their hairy bosoms soon displaid.
The Trojans eke and mixt Sicilians
That came to see were many millions,
Or thousands, for what should I ly for?
I fear I have err'd above a Cipher.
But they that Poets read you know
Will never stand for a round O:
But if they should, 'tis hard in my sence,
To be debarr'd Poetick Licence.
Which Poets claim as more emphatick,
Than Conscience free to a Phanatick.
Euryalus, a youth most proper
Shews all to Ladies but his Crupper;
For he had nothing on but's drawers
The first of Trojan clapper-clawers.
56
He had less shame, but far more years.
For he had nothing but his shirt,
Under his twist with knot begirt.
His love was great t'Euryalus,
A pious love, and not for buss.
Diores next sprung from the Race
Of Royal Priam, shews his face,
With Helymus and Panopes
Hoy day,—and who I pray are these?
Why these were two rich Farmers sons,
Acestes great Companions.
In fair, they hunted, in foul weather,
They drank and play'd and whor'd together.
Patron were next and Salias
The one a bold Arcadian was,
The other an Acarnan brisk,
To run, or cuff, or tumble whisk:
But which was one, or which was t'other,
Maro himself doth not discover.
57
Than I my self was told before?
Yet this I'le say that Maro could not,
Or if he could, I'me sure he would not
From one was lineally descended
The Croyden Butcher so commended.
The other to make out th'intreague,
Forefather was of nimble Teage.
Of all the rest we say but little,
Since Maro spares to speak a tittle.
All being thus resolv'd to run,
Quo they, to great Anchises son,
With guts discharg'd and bladders empty,
Loe here our selves we do present thee.
Streight-way Æneas sitting boldly
On timber-log of which I told ye.
By kind assistance of his tongue,
Made 'em, they say, this short Harangue
He that of you shall run the best,
By my dead Father three times blest,
58
For hear what I propose ye for gain.
Two darts, both made of Gnossian craft,
Of Ebonie shall be the shaft;
Feather'd with Gold, which seems a Bull,
But that I speak to men not dull.
A Partisan of steel, but such
An one, as you may make as rich,
As any City leading staff,
If you'l be at expence enough.
To the three swiftest in the course
I do design to give a horse.
Though I confess, they have most need
That slowest are, of nimble steed:
But that's all one, I'me bound to praise ye,
And not give horses to the lazie.
This horse shall have Caparisons
Rich as the Queen oth'Amazons.
There boy's, there goes the hare away,
And I think worth the catching, ha!
59
Cut from the brims of a broad felt,
Embroidered all with work of Gold.
Instead of shoulder knot, behold
A glittering Pearl, three times as big
As a large hen's or a duck egg.
He that cryes hey—for our town,
With olive branch him will I crown.
The third shall have a morrion made
At Argos, where it is their trade.
I will not say how finely don,
He's free to take, or let't alone.
The signal given by the sound
Of twisted trumpet, see the ground
All in a cloud, and such a high one
As wrapt Æneas like Ixion.
Some said that sweat of heel and toe
Would dust allay, but twas not so.
For why to stop each others paces
They kickt in each others faces.
60
And as he ran, he oft did fart;
Which much endammadg'd them behind,
Having two foes, the dust and wind.
For by this means he got before,
Some two and twenty yards or more.
Nisus behind, but far behind
Ran Salius, like a nimble Hind,
After him ran Euryalus;
And close at his heels Helymus:
Him Diores that was the last,
Seeing'em all in so much hast,
With malice now and rage ore'come,
Gave such a kick upon his bum;
That through the pain of his Posteriors,
He now gives way to his inferiors.
Nisus was just upon the mark,
But see how fate can prove a Turk!
For just ith'nick, he sprain'd his toe,
There lay poor Nisus crying, oh—
61
As made the blood spin from his nose.
So there he lay as I have told ye,
Swearing like a belfounder, boldly;
When furnace cracks, and metals runn,
As if the Devil were on Dun.
He saw the prize was not for him;
Which vext him more than did his limn.
Yet though he lost his hope and glory,
He had not lost the quick memory
Of his Euryalus, so dear;
For Salias now coming near,
He seiz'd so fiercely on his shoo,
That Salias comes headlong too.
Salias got up, as mad as Weesel,
Dings a good dust at Nisus muzzle;
Nisus holds fast, and which is worse,
Sets his cursd fangs in Salias Arse.
Nisus gripes hard, and rudely tears:
Salias curses, damms, and swears:
62
But keeps him there, spite of his ears.
Euryalus, thanks to his face,
Thus got the Goal, and won the race.
The rabble shout, and tear the Air,
Favouring Euryalus the fair.
They that beheld the real truth,
Nisus and Salius, Arss and Mouth;
Cry'd out hey now for our Town!
Hold Nisus, hold, the Towns our own.
The second man was Helymus;
And Diores the third, so close
He trod upon his heels that day,
Men fear'd a quarrel by the way.
But as it seems, they were more wary:
They'd other fish to fry, then tarry.
Then Salius came with great complaints,
Swearing by all his Gods and Saints,
That they had rob'd him of his fat Ox
While plaguy Nisus seiz'd his buttocks.
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As one he thought had lost a limb;
That since his luck was like his hurt,
He might have satisfaction for't.
Æneas scarce refraining laughter,
Yet as a courteous moderator,
Come, come, quo he, cease difference,
Ye shall have all due recompence:
Therefore, quo he, as friends embrace,
And kiss now in another place.
And so the injury was repayd,
With Morrion made like Lyons head;
The ears and eyes were all of gold
And eke the teeth, fine to behold.
So rich that Salias not deny'd,
But he was fully satisfy'd.
Then Nisus for to get comfort
Presents himself all mire and dirt,
From head to foot a Branford quag.
About him never a clean rag:
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How my misfortunes vanquish'd me;
And made me look so like a beast,
For being nimbler than the rest.
Æneas could not chuse but smile;
Grieve not, quo he, at Fortune vile;
For here is thy reward; with that
He gave him a most precious Hat,
Of damask silk, it was notorious.
For Feather and for work so curious.
By Didimaon wrought so neat;
Quoth Nisus then, by Mahomet
I'le weare thy hat both morn and noon-day,
On every Holiday and Sunday.
He lyes in's throat, that shall miscall
Our Captain, that's so liberal.
The Race thus finish'd without squabling,
All anger laid aside and brabling,
The Racers well content and merry;
My masters Time for none will tarry;
65
Besides, quo he, bring Cestus here.
Now you must know what Cestus was;
A plaguy Poultice for weak jaws:
A little touch with a weak hand,
And presently a man was brain'd:
A certain cursed Castanet
For men to dance the broken pate.
Two Iron Brickbats, each a Ring;
Which he that best can weild and swing,
To pound his Adversaries Pole,
Was vanquisher of body and soul.
To this same sport, that so men mauls,
Æneas his Companions calls.
Quo he, the man that has the heart
For a prize that is not worth a fart,
To venture brains, or loss of lymb,
Let him come purchase my esteem.
The Victors prize shall be a Cow
With forehead plated you know how:
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And linnen vaile about her should-
Ers, white, and delicately starch'd,
Like woman going to be Church'd.
Besides an instrument of death,
Eclep'd a sword, in Ivory sheath.
And eke a Morrion, none oth'worst.
Some said, he would have given that first
But then considering again,
If he gave one he must give twain,
They saw it was the wisest plot.
For purse was his, the limbs were not.
When any one is bruis'd enough,
Quo he, and wishes to leave off;
Let him while he his hands can use,
Hold up his hand, or cry Kings scruce;
If hands be maul'd confoundedly,
Bid some good friend that standeth by.
Thus said the Cestus was brought out
At sight whereof like one devout
67
The view on't put'em in a trance.
So that for all his cunning coaxing
None seem'd to love this kind of boxing.
At length not fearing Lymb nor torture
Dares appears, a vast Wine-Porter,
Who only could hold Paris tack,
At this same play makes others cack.
Who for to honour the memory
Of valiant Hector had the glory.
With this abominable weapon
To knock down Butes like a Capon.
The best that ever was at cuffing,
Without a Ly or any huffing.
Amyclus vast in strength and burden,
And always bred at the Beargarden,
Begot this Butes on a whore,
That was half woman, half a mare.
When Dares did himself present,
It bred a great astonishment,
68
As big and stronger than Milstones;
His Arms were rather bull-confounders;
In Paper-Mills you see such pounders.
Now the Goliah's strength was all,
As for his brains they were but small;
You would have laught to'have seen the noddy
To shew his mighty strength of body,
How he did vainly cuff the Air.
Boreas himself did not come near;
And swung about his brawnie wrists,
To shew what he could do with's fists.
And when h'had done, to see the Looby
How h'a faign'd to girn, like a great booby,
Sa, Sa, quo he, what is there none
Will let me break nor shin, nor bone.
What nere a Knight that has a mind,
To loose his eyes, and to be blind?
This furious challenge was so dismall,
That not a man would venture his mall.
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As if th'had felt the weight of's thumb.
Their Hector's now not worth a fart,
As if th'had neither souls nor heart.
Quo Dares, then the Cow is mine,
To day how bravely will I dine.
For who to Cow hath right more full
Than I that am so like a bull?
With that he took the precious Beast
By both the horns upon her Crest.
Bawling so loud, tell he was hoarse,
Who of ye all now by main force,
In hopes to eat a gallant supper
With fist can Cow set on her Crupper?
Chickens by Jove, you handle Cestus?
You kiss mine Arse. Hei-Captain Festus
(For so he call'd Æneas jeering,)
Must I stay here all day Pickeering?
As if I'had nothing else to choose,
But here stand making Childrens shoos.
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To be made Gelly by my thumb?
Find me a match that will contest,
Or let me carry away the Beast.
At which one mad, what ayles that fellow?
What ayles, quo he, that Bull to bellow?
Why so much raving, so much tearing?
Wee'l match his cock, for all his swearing.
Acestes through the Rabble flung,
As if a wasp his tayl had stung;
Cud boars, quo he, shall such a thief
With pain so little get our beef?
Fuming he goes to seek Entellus,
Whom, of such language nothing jealous,
He found stretch'd out upon a banck,
Smoaking Jamayca, cursed ranck;
Ye Logger head, quo he, is this
A time to sleep and smoak, I wiss?
When all our honours ly at stake?
Pox o'your drowsie hide—come—wake,—
55
Hast cudgel'd many a lusty boar.
Hast thou forgot the prancks and the tricks
Which thou were wont to play with Eryx?
Eryx thy Master at this game?
To whom thou second art in fame.
Cuts-foot! shall daring Dares quell us?
While we have living brave Entellus;
How many spoiles of Butchers bones
Of Weavers Arms, and Dyers stones
Hang in thy Chimney up like bacon?
Of thy renown the certain token?
For shame then let not this wind-sucker,
At our disgrace thus sneer and snicker.
Quoth he, thy words are positive.
Tis not for fear as now I live,
That Dares thus I let alone;
But I am old and feeble grown.
Were I as young as I ha bin,
This Raskal that makes such a din
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I'de make him soon cry me mer-cie,
To Cow or Calf without regard,
The slender motive of reward;
Only for glories sake, ere this,
I'had made him stink for fear, or piss.
That this is truth ye know full well
Yet that you may not take it ill,
To shew I speak not words, but deeds;
I'le try one bout at Loggerheads.
If I am beaten, say tis Age,
And no defect of my courage.
Streight he flung down of dismal batterie
Two fatal Engines, not to flatter ye,
Nor yet to chafe your wanton Nerves,
But for to stamp ye like conserves.
Little they said, meant plaguely;
Their very aspect made men flee.
Dares himself, to tell you true,
Likt'em so ill, he look't askew.
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Of Eryx blood, and part of's brains.
Eryx who meeting at an Alehouse,
With Hercules of's honour jealous,
Streight fell to blows, from blows to knocks,
The least of which would kill an Ox.
What Eryx got by't, truely I
Think he might well put in his eye.
His eye! alas had there been less put,
They then had living had the Toss-pot.
Dares beholding such damn'd trophies,
Think ye that Dares such an Oaf is,
Quo he, to venture life in field,
With weapons that he cannot weild.
Æneas thinking twas a scandal,
The mortal Engines needs would handle,
But when he felt their weight, quo he,
The Devil handle'em for me.
Seav'n folded Ox-hides stuft with lead,
Some half a Tun in each, they said,
74
Such as you see about Cart-wheeles.
Crossing himself, then said Æneas,
Per omnes meretrices meas,
What hideous Tartar with a vengeance
Invented first these fatal Engins?
Puh! quoth Entellus; these are feathers;
Those with which Hercules strapt the Gathers
Of my friend Eryx, (peace be with him,)
And sent unto the Elysian frith him,
Were twice as big and yet the Lubbers
Would weild those mighty Noddle-rubbers
As nimbly at each others coxcombs,
As they had been but little box-combs.
For my part cryes Entellus furder,
I likes this well, I'me cleare for murder.
But yet to shew I'me gamester fair too,
If he'l have other, there they are too,
I'le fight with any, ere spoyl play.
And ye shall cap me, as they say,
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You guess, not who shall have the Beast.
Then cry'd Æneas drunck with joy,
Troth god a mercy brave old Boy.
Bring me a pair of Maul cheeks hither;
But not so heavy as the other:
Others were brought, and after tryal,
Approv'd without the least denyal,
Both for their bigness and their huffing,
By Doctors in the Art of cuffing.
One takes Entellus; t'other Dares,
Saying a hundred Ave Maries:
For it had almost turn'd his stomak;
Entellus shape did such a shew make.
Such shoulders, Buttocks, bones so hideous,
A Chine so nervous, brest prodigious.
For to say truth he nothing hid;
Both shirt and coat were layd aside.
If shirt he had, for else you know,
What he had not, he could not shew;
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Men must be cautious to speak right:
For if he had no shirt, and I,
Do say he had, I tell a ly.
But now behold'em in their traces,
Making wry mouths and Monkey-faces,
They dance Step stately to take aim,
Who first should give the first damn'd main.
At first they slightly seem'd to skirmish,
But straightway fury growing warmish,
One gives the other plaguy palt,
Which was return'd the next assault:
Young Dares was more nimbly stout,
Entellus was the stronger Lout.
With weapons pois'd, and fists erect,
With burning eyes and fierce aspect,
They now lay on sans feare or wit,
As if they car'd not where they hit.
Their Lungs are tir'd and breath in vain,
Their naked Members pant amain.
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To Diaphragma, or the side,
Secundum artem, as they knew,
To make men vomit black and blew.
Sometimes a loving blow did miss,
Then t'other was not griev'd I wiss.
Streight you might hear his guts cry twang,
And t'others skul ring with the bang.
While all his reason takes her flight,
T'had been no reason else, by this light.
Sometimes with stroaks strook unawares,
They only rub each others ears.
Dares with many a nimble leap,
At old Entellus head doth skip-
Unweildy he stands stiff and tough,
Without recoyling from the cuff.
While Dares with a dreadful eye,
Stood watching his huge Enemy.
Woe worth that rib which he shall find,
But once ungarded to his mind)
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Seeke weakest place to make'em totter,
And having found what they intended,
With all their fury thither bended.
Mauling and battering their insistunt,
Though th'had as good perhaps a pist on't.
Thus Dares watching still for harm,
Caught from the bold Entellus Arm,
Such a damn'd lick athwart the back,
As made his very bum-strings crack.
Dares, but how the Devil't twas done,
Is past my apprehension,
Returns him such a thumping quitt,
As for his quo, 'twas out of debt.
These blowes each equalled in stress,
Some twenty pounds or little less.
And Virgil saies in his relation,
That the through force and indignation
With which Entellus strook and mist,
His aged Trunck the Grass-plot kist.
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Let them that doubt the truth go see.
And more than that too a shrew'd signe,
They say he fell like mighty Pine.
There lay the huge Entellus sprawling:
For joy the Trojans fell a bawling;
While he enraged at the flounce,
Doth all his Gods at once renounce.
Acestes and Æneas brave,
Both willing the old man to save,
Where er'e they had it, got a Crane,
And so they cran'd him up again;
Being got upon his heeles once more,
Six lustie Common oaths he swore,
Though for his manners such a sot,
That all his thanks he quite forgot.
Having recover'd now his place,
With rage in heart, and shame in face
Finding what ere he yet had done,
But fleabites in comparison.
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By Jove I'le handle him without mittins.
Poor Dares was in great dejection,
Seeing Entellus Resurrection.
He that before thought worst was past,
Seeing his foe so rudely cast,
And therefore sang his nunc dimittis,
Now at the end of all his wit is.
There was no way but guard to keep,
Better h'd been in's bed asleep.
T'other lay's on cuff after cuff,
Not minding whither's skin be buff.
His bended clutches damn'd Memento,
Make flying Dares daunce Coranto's
Entellus bounty fell like hail,
Not sparing either head or tayl.
Dares afraid his reasons house
(Though he had scarce so much as goose)
About his batter'd ears should tumble,
Was half ith'mind in manner humble.
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He lik't not banging sans defeizance.
While t'other labors all he can
To make a window to his brain.
Dares was in condition sad,
His face was swell'd big as his head,
His head was swell'd as big as his hat,
And he himself just falling flat
Upon his bloody bruised nose;
When all in hast Æneas throws
Himself between the blowes so thick:
Good faith 'twas well he came ith'nick.
For had he had but one more thwack
Upon his head or his Sto—mack
Dares had given the Crows a pudding;
And Death had come before his Wedding.
For now Entellus Clawes were up,
And falling just was fatal swop.
But just in time Æneas spruce,
And brave Acestes cry'd, Kings scruce.
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The bloudy heart of vex'd Entellus.
Good Sir quo, he your wrath forbear,
Man stout at Cuffs as ere stole Deere,
Next time shall Dares learn more manners
Then let his wits be his Trappanners,
Thus to provoke a man whose wrists
Can powder Rocks of Amethists;
With nailes like fleas crack Adamants;
And puff down Armed Elephants.
These gentle words made Gaffer Thwacksides
Most patiently lay by his Ox-hides.
Such credit had Æneas there,
Quo he, your will be done Menheire.
Then Sir Æneas, turning face
To him that was in doubtful case;
So bruis'd and batter'd, and so swel'd,
(He scarce could stand unless upheld)
Made him to the best of my memory,
This pithy speech consolatory.
83
Quo he thou needs not others harms,
For well thy own, without a book,
Now teach thee with both eyes to look
Before thou leapst, and not to venture,
Before thou knew'st thy bold Attempter.
Had not thy Foe been very handsome,
He had destroy'd thee without Ransome.
For now confess and speak as true man,
Do you beleive his hand was human?
As sure as thou wert bang'd to day,
He keeps the Devil himself in pay.
Therefore, if legs will beare thee, go,
Weake boxer of the driving snow,
Go get a Surgeon, Noble Festus,
And dream no more of pounding Cestus.
The poor young knave all soare with banging
His neck upon his shoulders hanging,
Eyes sunck in a black quag of butter,
Or flesh well churm'd, few words could utter.
84
Farewell Sir, till I see you next.
He could no more in Prose nor Rhyme,
Nor had he courage at that time
To bring his fingers to his chin
To see what teeth remain'd within.
His beard was all bedaub'd to see a
With a damn'd foul Haimoragia.
The place where Nose stood, you might know it
But nere take hold on't for to blow it.
The Trojans they came all to much him,
He wish'd 'em damn'd that did but touch him.
For so his batter'd Corps did smart,
That every touch went to his heart.
Then Dares two Companions chose,
To comfort up his broken Nose.
But both the Crown and eke the beast
Entellus got by dint of fist.
Who now like toad on washing-block,
With conquest swell'd, thus gan to mock.
85
That enviously this day behold
The Victory that I have won;
Come see what more I could have done,
See against what a firking foe,
Your Dares stript from top to toe!
Had ye not drag'd his Homo-Plater
From our inevitable slaughter.
You should have seen how I had rub'd him,
And mong the Devils belly bub'd him.
This said his furious fist he clutch'd,
And twixt the horns so rudely touch'd.
The Bulls head that from head of Bull
Came brains and blood a Kettle full.
So died the Cow without adiew,
Or making will in minutes few.
Then with a heart full of repentance,
And mind prepar'd for pious sentence,
He cry'd beholding the blew skie,
With doleful face and blubbring eye.
86
I give this Bull with all my heart,
For Dares sake, who has my prayers
The best of living Cudgel—players.
Here will I Chappel build, or Pest-house
Where horns shall hang and eke my Cestus.
If Dares dy here shall he be
Entombed likewise, close by me.
No question we shall then agree.
They that Entellus saw turn'd Priest,
Yet knew he was a damn'd Atheist,
Rais'd such a shout at his conversion,
As shook the Earth like Ague tertian.
So long this hubbub did continue,
'Twas fear'd that some would break a sinew.
Which made Æneas in compassion,
And for another dirty fashion,
Which was to have no shouting known,
At any speeches but his own.
Enough quo he, enough I say;
87
I'de rather a had a pack of knaves,
Than such a crew of simple slaves.
Enough this curs'd Cow killing sport,
There's none but one the better for't;
Come bring me out your Bows and Arrows
And if ye needs will kill, kill sparrows.
Thus having got some good Companions,
All in a row like ropes of Onions,
Quo he bring hither Galley Mast,
And set it me upright and fast;
First having ty'd at top of it,
A Pigeon, or a Clout beshit,
It matters not so mark be hit.
The lots were thrown into a hat,
Or Helmet, 'tis the same thing that:
At which they fum'd like a hot tost,
To see that Fortune rul'd the rost:
For each one fear'd to be put out
From being one should hit the clout.
88
And who durst say then, he'd ha more,
But four then drawing, stone-blind Chance
Ilippocoons Honour did advance.
A fatal murderer of wild-Ducks,
A foe profest to Dawes and Rooks;
The second fool whom fortune favours
Was Mister Mnesteus, a Sea-Mavors,
Whose head with Olive had been crown'd,
For swimming well, and not being drown'd.
Of whom I shall say little more,
Since I have said so much before.
Master Eurytian was the third;
He'd hit a Curran in a turd.
Which made him cry'd up for an Archer.
His brother yet was much the archer;
His brother Pandarus, wot ye well,
Who taking bow of pliant steel,
Without so much as one bear leave,
The Cuckold Menelaus gave
89
That Helen nere so claw'd his breech.
Acestes was the last forsooth,
Who although old, with so much Youth
Would needs contest for skill and strength;
What he got by't you'l know at length,
Hippocoon his goggle eyes
Casting a thousand times to the skies,
First hit the top oth'mast, I trow:
A lower shot, had been below:
The bird with that affrighted, try'd
T'have flown away, but she was ty'd.
And so she only flapt the Ayr;
He did no more as I can hear;
While bird thus flutter'd on the wing,
Menestheus shoots and cuts the string:
Whether the bird, do you now think,
That but ere while for fear did stinck,
Now finding Leve to be light,
Did not make hast to mend her flight.
90
That faster then a bird will fly,
For as the Bird was on the wing,
Eurytion snapt his fatal string:
Though ere he drew, he made a prayer,
To Brother Pandarus in his ear,
The which his brother soon did heare.
And so as bird was tripping off,
(Not dreaming but she had been safe)
The Arrow peirc'd her pretty rump,
And made her turn up belly trump.
'Twas then no time to take advice
How to avoid the fatal slice;
Streight with a vengeance down she come,
Like one that feard not bruising bum.
He that the day came after fair
Was now Alcestes, by compare.
Ther's nothing left for that old fop,
Less he would set his own head up.
But what said the Facetious Drole,
91
Suppose that yonder sate an Owle,
Where bird was ty'd; why may not I
My brother hit? by Jove I'le try.
He drew, but wonderful to see
His dart became a prodigie.
A prodigie that friz'd the hair
Of every morral that was there.
'Twas here a dart, but mounting higher
I'th air becomes a flame of fire.
Like whizzing Rocket up it goes
Had Owl been there, 'thad sing'd his nose.
Or else as Pub. says better far,
Like volant or crinited starr.
In Eng'ish certain flying jigs,
Or stars with flaming Perriwigs.
The flame continued while it could,
That is to say while there was wood,
But fewel wanting due recruite,
The fire went out without dispute.
92
Was many a thousand peradventure;
A hundred strange Enthusiasms;
Lights new as that, and fond phantasms
The most renowned Augurs ply'd
Their painful studies, and discry'd
A thousand stories and keck shoes,
To lead the doubtful by the noses.
The Phrygian Conjurers could not rest
Sicilian Bards were all possest.
Nay all the Rabble had a maggot,
Bigger in head the stick of faggot.
Æneas in a pious frolick
Pulls from his neck a certain relick,
It was a chain of gold, at which,
There hung a medal very rich.
'Twas all of broyld St. Lawrence left,
And gravd upon an Agat haft;
To that annext in Christal hung
The very Cole that burnt Saint's tongue.
93
Great Sir, to you my deep protest is,
That for an Archer there was none
Was ever fit to wipe your shoon.
Who would the Devil himself not blame,
Not having seen, to credit fame?
For who can think that did not see,
That thou couldst little bit of tree
In th'Ayr at distance come to fire,
By Jove it maketh me admire.
Fore George, as I am come of woman,
Jove owes thee kindness more than common.
As for my part, the heavens protect thee,
Like my dead father I respect thee,
And than my Mother ten times better,
If now Fly, then hell me fetter.
What though the prises all be gon,
Thou shalt have presents of our own,
To satisfy for thy ill luck,
That mark so surely from thee took.
94
And gave him the foremention'd jigs.
And more then all that, something more,
(Which I it seems forgot before.)
A goblet of a massie weight,
A work emboss'd most accurate,
This cup so trimm'd with fine devices
Was for a fairing, sent Anchises
By Cissus a good friend of his,
Who living, Club did never miss;
But being dead, yet every night,
In dear remembrance of old Knight,
Anchises made the Goblet weep,
Till both forgot, he fell asleep
To make the Ceremony stanch,
He Crown'd him with an Olive branch;
A most exceeding favour that,
Because he seldom wore his hat.
Eurytion nothing envious
To see him first rewarded thus,
95
Æneas thank't him for his love,
And gave him eke a good reward;
For civil men by civil regard
To generous spirits, seldom loose.
Menestheus had his old shooes.
Hippocoon two nutmegs guilt.
For where the text imploys a guilt,
By mentioning no gifts at all;
We judge the gifts were very small.
From Archerie to Horsmanship
They next proceed with spur and whip.
Epirides the first appear'd
VVith chin conceal'd in monstrous beard;
He was Ascanius Pædagoge.
A most austere Ars-firking dog
But yet esteem'd as learn'd a Sir John,
As ere was bred up at the Sorbon.
He could compose a Catch or Cannon,
And verses make with George Buchannan.
96
But plagu'd with a disease call'd Hernia.
Soon as he came before his betters
He shewd himself a man of Letters,
Making a hundred ugly scrapes,
Like Scholar that the Courtier apes.
Æneas soon as one could wake him,
Spies formal fool, and thus bespake him;
Epirides where's my Cock-Robin?
Will he a while leave placket-bobbing,
And for a Steed leave riding wenches?
Then give him Horse fit for his inches.
Where's all the other younger fry,
Have they their Coursers fit to fly,
To let the world know by their fooling;
Their parents gave'em no mean schooling?
Go quickly then and fetch'em all:
Epirides with legs so smal
And Thighs as dry as Kixes, though
As swift as arrow out of bow,
97
He leapt full thirty foot at least,
At every leap; for such men fly
Alway, when th'are in Masters eye.
Returning like the flowing surges,
With a whole troop of young St. Georges,
They were as plump, and loo'd as fairly
As hogs, that ly all day ith' Barly.
Their Horses like a several bride,
Both necks and tayles with Ribands ty'd.
Inn's a Court gentlemen all they were,
And every one a sling did weare.
Not to sling love-songs cross the way,
But slugs and stones in deadly fray.
Arrows and Bows did others weare,
Which Parents gave at Bartholmew Fair.
For then were no such things to smoak ye,
As fierce Dragooners under Okey.
But others like your French gens d'armes,
Had Spears and Lances for their Armes.
98
And roaring feathers hats embrac'd.
About their necks they Cuirass had,
Of double guilded Lattin made.
Some for right mettle did them hold;
But all that glisters is not gold.
Three Captains lead three neat squadrons,
With Scarfs of Lindsey Woolsey Aprons,
For in three squadrons were the Chuffs,
Distinguished one by Spanish Ruffs.
The next were hats with Steeple-Crowns,
The third the Switzers Bonnet ownes.
One of these Chiefs that was no dastard,
Of poor Politus was the Bastard.
The younger son of Priamus,
Who knockt down Neoptolemus;
In Pages Trouzes up he mounts,
A Carriers horse, by all accounts,
But such a one, that dress him well
Would clear out run the Divel of Hell.
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Than some a Cart-rut should get over.
The next to him was Asys hight,
Julus love, and sole delight.
Though to be plain, if all tales are true,
More for his tayl, than for his vertue.
What Horse he had, Gelding or Mare,
Virgil is pleas'd to speak to spare,
But questionless the trade he drove,
Got him well mounted for his Love.
Some men admire why such a one,
Is favour'd by a mighty Don;
But search the grass well with your eyes,
And you shall see where the Snake lies.
Ascane as young, lastin degree,
Was yet the first in quality.
His gaudy coat and feather'd hat
Made all the people cry, who's that?
But far beyond his glittring garb,
His Courser was a Chestnut Barb.
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Did all the fields of Sidon breed.
'Twas Didos guift, though when she made it,
Had she known all, he ner'e had had it.
This Horse was only fit to show
On Whitsun-holidays or so;
He was a perfect Ram for Capring;
And many a Knight for all his vap'ring,
Unless he held fast by his Crest,
Would put him in danger of his Chest.
But let him all his jades tricks try,
Run Valley low, or Mountain high.
Or play the Divel on all four,
Julus sate him like a Tower,
So well he govern'd hand and foot,
As he had been George Castriot,
Or one of Don of Austria's Riders;
Which he's a Coxcomb that considers.
For all the other meaner squires
Acestes common Hackneys hires.
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With Fillies pricking up their ears.
The Trojans clapt their hands by dozens,
Seeing the Children of their Cousens.
Here some of whom they knew the Mothers,
There some their own, though got by others,
And every one as fine as fippence,
And and all prepar'd to run for thrippence.
See youth, cries one, on yonder Mare,
Mothers n'own boy, both lip and haire
'Twas pretty thus to hear'um read,
How living face was like the dead.
Such pretty cheeks with pretty dimples,
You shall not see in both the Temples.
Though then they look'd a little whitish,
For fear least Courser should prove skittish.
At length when every pretty Elf
Had in his Saddle fix'd himself.
Epirides with nimble flack,
Makes whipcord briskly cry smack-smack.
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Far better, than their Steeds, divining
By sound of whip-cord, Pedants meaning.
Streight the three squadrons they divide
In bodies two, or Maro ly'd.
Some fly away, while some pursue,
And at their backs with switches flew.
But feeling smart, make head again,
Ribrosting t'others for their pain.
Weary of being thus lambasted,
Eft-soons to milder sport they hasted.
Here three to three, there two to two,
There more, (hey toss what's here to do!)
They prance and frisk it to and fro;
Foe runs in full career at foe;
When to accord the sturdy knee,
And skil ful trip, with Hait or Gee,
(Which horses learn without much trouble)
In full career they make a double;
So Huntsmen say; but Horsemen, turn;
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Much contradiction; that's to say,
They did as girls that dance the Hay.
These pretty Turn-again-Whittingtons,
Made by these Gentlemens eldest sons
Their cross careirs, Turns whole and half,
Which Father made and Mother laugh,
Were like the Labyrinth so pretty,
Once fram'd by Dædalus the witty,
To Minos Sarjeant-Carpenter.
Within whose walls as men did err,
Or go astray, or vainly wander,
Not knowing tricks of gay Meander;
So these young sprouts of Troy renown'd,
Sometimes their Horses turning round,
Now running in a streight careir.
And sometimes doubling here and there,
Like nimble Dolphins seem'd to play,
Like Dolphins in the Lybic Sea.
When Boreas bold, thank Boreas for't,
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Then out comes Fleabit and Tregonnel
And hey for Strawberrie, that last won all.
Some run for Crowns, and some for Guinies,
The cunning Jockies cheat the punies.
But last of all, that which was most,
They rais'd a most confounded dust.
And thus you see these youths so cranck
Shew'd Parents many a pretty pranck
Which afterwards Julus, He
That founded Albas fair Citee.
Becoming King most powerful,
Did recommend by special Bull,
Unto his Race of Romans bold,
For to observe and eke to hold,
As sacred to their fathers names,
By Title of the Trojan Games.
And thus you see what slight occasions
Men take sometimes to Cajole Nations
While wise Æneas thus imployes,
105
Fortune, who being of Greek exrraction,
(And therefore of the Grecian faction)
Hated a Trojan at her heart;
Resolves to shew him to his smart,
Another of her plaguy dog-tricks,
Juno, old Priam's dear Exec'trix,
More full of mischief than a Page,
Plump as a Tike with female rage,
To trusty Gossip, Iris hies,
A practis'd bitch in telling lies,
Juno her mind did soon impart,
Which Iris had as soon by heart,
Quo she, for words there needs no pumping,
I know your meaning by your mumping:
So brib'd with promises and dollars
She flung an old scarf ore her Colours;
Away she cuts her airy passage,
To prosecute her damn'd Ambassage.
And as she went, her legs she shews,
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Well garter'd too, above the knee,
As they affirm, that both did see.
Slow was her pace, for being plump
She fear'd to fret her tender rump.
From Arcady, without a wherry,
She quickly crost the Ocean ferry.
And cause the Road was straight and free,
She was not long from Sicily,
Where she beheld, in Armor glittering
The lazy Trojans scaperloytring
The Fleet was left like Theif in Mill,
Or to be gon, or stay, at will.
Nor Dog to bark, nor boy to baul,
What ever danger should befall;
Both boys and dogs were all ago
To see my Lord Æneas show.
The women by themselves afar,
Were private from these acts of warr
As 'twere in publick hugger mugger,
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Till crying ripe, the wine intices
Some to bewail defunct Anchises.
While others at misfotnune wept;
Well well-quo one, time was I kept
As good a house for East-cheap beef,
As she that was Church-Wardens wife;
And for good Pewter and for Brass
And dining Room rub'd with a gloss,
I had as good as most ith' Parish
Though some perhaps might make more flourish
How long shall Ladies nice of stomack
Be forc'd to ly in swabbers Hamock?
How long shall women bred so squeamish?
Ly nose in ars midst Hogo's flemmish?
Others that were more finely Maudlin
Call'd poor Æneas Goose and Codlin,
Come, come, I love to speak, cries one,
Theres Captain turd, let him alone,
Let him but drink while he can see,
108
He crams his guts as at a wedding,
While we are glad of hasty pudding.
Where is the City that he promis'd?
I doubt I shall be ana—tomiz'd.
Ere that day come: he might ha'had
Cities enough, would he have staid;
But he would needs have to'ther toss.
Your rowling stones ne're gather moss.
While cups and tongues thus fast do move,
As both for nimbleness had strove,
Iris that saw their drunken posture.
Quits shape divine betokning moisture;
With staff in hand, on eyes spectacles,
Like wife of Doricles, her self she tackles,
And old Witch that had liv'd so long,
She had forgot that she was young,
For the reversion of whose joynture,
The fifteenth race had cry'd, God Saint her.
Though she were old, yet she was subtle,
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My Grannam Berce she was hight,
Though dark with age, the Ages light.
Mischievous Iris in this form
Appears in midst of all the Chirm,
To whom as soon as she could make,
'Em hold their clacks these words she spake,
Poor women, Poor unhappy women!
Companions only now for Seamen,
How long with grief must ye contend,
Oh where shall be your sorrows end?
Had ye not better that the Dolopps
Had long since cut ye into Collops?
Then from vexation of your souls
Y'had lain secure among the Moles.
Rather than thus to live at Sea
Half dead with hunger every day:
Your hands that fanns did only dandle,
Now forc'd the rugged Oar to handle,
Distress'd inhabitants of Pinnaces.
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That live in boats, where ticks and fleas,
Without respect of persons seize:
Rather then lead a life so fell,
Women had better live in Hell.
'Tis now seaven years, or little less
That you in cold and heats distress,
Poor wrinkled weather beaten Madams
Lead by the noses like Jack Adams,
In vain do hunt the flying shore,
Which Fate has promis'd ten times ore;
A tale that I shall nere believe,
Nor pin my faith upon her sleeve.
Let her go on and vainly coax
Our credulous leader, John, Anoaks.
A quartan Ague stop his Lungs.
For him we have endur'd these wrongs;
But heres anow, lets have a care:
Why can't we tarry where we are?
What ailes this Country? tis both good
107
Let's build a Town among our kindred,
Our freind Acestes nere will hinder't.
There we may play our wanton tricks,
Not subject to the Oceans freaks.
Our Country Gods I pity too,
Han't they a fine time? what think you?
Snatch't from the rage of Grecian Robbers.
To be made Cabin-boys and Swobbers
Fools! can we hope for so much joy,
Ere to revisit your old Troy?
Or Symois, fam'd for Morehens plenty?
Or Xanthus nere of Gudgeons emptie?
Then let's go burn those pocky Vessels;
That are not fit to harbour Weasels.
This night my candle burning blew,
Cassandras Ghost my Curtains drew,
Quo she, why wander ye like Tartars?
In Sicily take up your quarters.
What will ye always live like Barnacles?
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Always be swimming on the Seas,
Like VVidgeons or like Soland Geese?
Burn then those fly-boats, why d'ye tarry?
If husbands chafe, ye have your Lurry.
Behold four Altars newly rais'd
Where sacrifices lately blaz'd.
To Neptune for some curtesies,
VVhere fire enough in Embers lies:
Find you but hearts, the Gods find flames,
Courage then, thrice Immortal Dames.
Take leave of damn'd seafaring trade,
And of the ships make a Grilliade
Be you but bold, I don't say cruel,
The Gods find fire, and yonder's fuel.
This having said the plaguy strumpet,
Takes up a brand, and stead of trumpet,
Blowes the hot coal, to wake the flame,
Go then, she cry'd ith' Devils name.
VVith that so swift she flung the brand,
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And where as soon, it was apparent
He dally'd not to tell his arrant.
Dames, that before nere saw such jigs,
Began to stare like roasted Pigs;
They star'd so long you would have thought
Their very eyes would have dropt out.
They knew not what to think or say,
For all the stuff they had, there lay.
Here soft compassion to her Kettle,
There pity'd pinner stops her mettal.
Another gins her cheeks to wet,
In mercy to her Cabinet.
At length steps up an ancient Matron,
That Priamus by strings of Apron,
Had often lead, as being one,
Had nurs'd him many a Girl and Son;
Whom she their Primars also taught,
And firkt their royal tayls for naught.
This venerable peice of Age
114
With voice like Kitten, when it mews,
Thrusting her neck out like a Goose,
Quo she, let's not be over hasty,
To credit Beroe, she's too too testy.
Come, come my friends, I know what's what,
And I must tell ye—I smell a Rat.
She Beroe, shee's a lying slut;
She's no more Beroe, than my Scut.
Alas poor Beroe's sick a bed,
Scarce an hower since I drest her head.
And then she swore the Devil take her,
That there was nothing worse did make her;
Then that she could not come to sip,
And chat with us and smoke her pipe;
'Tis not for want of Love or Grace,
She came not hither to say mass
For old Anchise in purgatorie.
But her old age, which makes me sorry.
To see her made a stalking horse
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No, no, this wench ith' Devils name,
Is come from Heav'n from Jove's good dame.
Her Armpits smel of Rosemary,
Which strongly prove divinity.
Her lively aire, and feet's proceeding,
And eke her voice speak heav'nly breeding
To little purpose thus spoke Pyrgo:
For not one soul believ'd her—Ergo.
Yet in respect to female Wizard,
They stood a while twixt hauk and buzzard.
They liked well Sicilian plains,
But Fate had so be whim'd their brains
With windmils they should have in Latium,
Which for the present much did dash'em.
Iris that had no mind to dally
Seeing 'em thus stand shally shally,
Streightway her self disberoiz'd,
And in true shape re-Deitiz'd,
She through a cloud her bow displays,
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A whole and even course she steers;
Then in a moment disappears.
There was no need of doing more,
The Trojan women now give ore,
And now like boys in fields of Moor,
That go to pillage Baud and Whore;
In Troops most fiercely diabolic,
They take in hand their cursed Frolic.
Like people mad, or stark possest,
Acting what only rage thought best.
They sack and pillage Neptunes Altars,
As if they nere had read their Psalters;
Fate kiss their tayls, and for Æneas,
They count him but a silly flea as.
By these fierce Queans thus arm'd with fire
In hand and tayl and upper tire.
The Galleys kindled look like Torches,
The flames are not for Spanish Marches,
But rather a la mode de France,
117
The Turk himself upon the Ropes,
Nere shew'd such strange Curvets and hops.
The Ropes they eat for Sausages
And on the Sails for Tripes they seize.
They drest'em not in Cook-room though,
But eat the Cookroom up also;
Yet could not master all, be't known,
They left the Furnace as a bone.
Down to the water they eat all,
But would not drink because 'twas small:
Flames nere so thirsty, understand ye,
No liquors love, but Wine and Brandy.
Eumelus all in hast comes posting,
To see what Women were a roasting;
The flames did so their business handle,
That he might see without a candle,
The matter was too too transparent,
And so he quickly had his errant:
Back he returns with horrid din,
118
Had told before how stood affairs;
Alarum'd by those Messagers,
The people all make to the shore:
Ascane a horseback gets before;
Damn'd jades quo he the Devil confound ye;
But fires your friend, the Devil drown'd ye.
What witchcraft thus possest ye all,
To burn our ships both great and small?
A madness Græcian rage outstrips,
They burnt our houses, left our ships.
The pox possess and burn' you next,
A crew of whores, that Hell perplext,
And sent from thence a plague to us.
Was ever Treason black as this?
Consuming now our boats and ropes,
Y'have burnt the last of our hopes.
Accursed Bitches, with black souls,
Blacker then are your own made Coles.
Whore's only fit to be strappado'd,
119
Y'have brought me here with such a flutter,
That I have almost broke my crupper,
Besides the loss of all my sport,
Hell take your plaguy bon-fire for't.
This having said, with fury tost,
Like a blind man that staff had lost,
He threw his cap so hard toth'ground,
As made it back to's hand rebound.
Æneas like a Lacquie puffing,
Comes in at length swearing and huffing;
He look't like one besides his wits,
Tore his Montero all to bits;
But when the whole he understands,
He falls a gnawing both his hands;
Then in a passion out he roars,
Where are these jades, these plaguy whores!
Incarnate Devils, I'le quit their scores.
But cunning bitches once the feat
Being done had, sounded a retreat;
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So general the engagement is;
That you might sooner cut your throat,
Than see a Smock or Peticoat;
They had all found Daughter and Mother
In Rocks or Sands some hole or other.
Some in the next Woods refuge take,
For all their Arses buttons make,
Seeing the Jades prancks they had plaid,
For Iris then they backward pray'd.
And spending on Juno in Follies free,
Of Billings-gate Artillery.
More mad at her that drell'd'em in,
And jeeres'em now out of their skin,
But still the Vessels they burn on,
Till massie Timber's almost gon.
Wise work i'faith for bearded Chins,
To leave their Ketches at thirteen's.
The colking made so thick a smoak,
As would a Chimney-Sweeper choak.
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But all their strength was useless grown.
Æneas being sore distrest,
To see the Devil make such a Feast,
Bedaub'd and plaister'd with despair
Clawes his white skin and tears his hair,
To see his ships where hopes rely'd
By durty drabs so fricassy'd.
He tore his garments all he had
Which made his smirking Taylor glad.
And then his hairy brest he shewed
All scabby to the multitude;
At length with voice of dying man,
He cross'd his Arms, and thus spoke on
O Jove of whom I never fail,
To speak kind words, though in my Ale.
Ay me behold this fatal blaze,
Such nere befel in all your days;
For give me leave to let you know so,
Troys fire to this, was but a so, so;
122
And that grey Mare ben't better Horse;
If there be any smooth Bordachio
That does affect your smooth Mustachio,
I mean, mong us, let me be him,
I'le strive to please ye with my limb.
You shall have with me, bate extortion,
An ample younger brothers portion:
If this be pleasing to your Grace
Laugh not but weep, lend weeping face,
And all the tears that you can shed
On ships with flames invironed;
Damn'd Sempstresses wou'd they were whipt,
Have all our grand affairs unript;
And therefore pour L'amour de dieu
Give us some Rain or else some snow;
They'l be more welcome now, good sooth,
Then showers in Harvest after drouth:
Rain pailfuls therefore for a spurt
E'se I'le not give thee sixpence for't;
123
Knowes up again well how to pluck it.
Sometimes ye rain down hei! ding dong,
Giving your water for a song.
That Holland felt, nor drap de berry,
Are able to withstand the ferry.
And when we pray but for Ale quart,
Thou giv'st us Winchester measure for't:
Then if thou lov'st me, deare Jove, rain,
Rain for thy life and fill the main,
Till like a piss pot it run ore;
Never came rain to purpose more.
Give our your ships that are so hot all,
But one kind dram of thy full bottle.
Æneas had no sooner ended,
But a vast deluge straight descended:
Showers did not fall, but rather Rivers,
The Trojans look't like Cornish divers:
Æneas wash'd, be gan to scowl,
Though but just now, his very soul
124
The Gods could hardly please his humour.
To tell ye how fine feathers lookt
Like Capons tayles, how scarfs bemuck't
Had chang'd their Curious glossie hues,
Or the sad fate of Calves-skin shoos,
Tis needless quite, for you may guess;
But's ships were in a better case;
For fire and water falling out,
The water hap't to be most stout,
And quickly maugre their welch heat,
Over the flames the victory get.
So that what ever did remain,
Was surely saved by the rain.
But though your flames were quench'd & ceas'd
Æneas could nor well digest
These blowes of Fate, which made him muddy
And put him in a deep brown study,
What course to steer, or how t'apply
To present evils, remedy.
125
Whither to go his ways or tarry.
Pox o'these Oracles quo he,
They tell no truth that I can see.
Then up steps, an old Cinque and Quatre
Grave Nautes hight, whom Jove wise daughter
Chose from his Cradle for her Crony,
And with him often top'd Stypone.
A desperate Casuist, for he well
Aquinas knew, and Zabarell.
And for predictions a meer Lilly.
Only for Rimes Drammatic silly.
This Doctor taking streight, forsooth,
Æneas words out of his mouth
Æneas th'art a fool quo he,
Leave fretting and be rul'd by me.
Fortunes a Whore, a meer Gilflurt,
And scorns the more, the more ye court,
Let her be Pox't and hang'd for a Jade,
Throw thy Cap at her, and her aid.
127
And hit that nail that will be hit.
Yet cause two heads are better than one
Acestes of your privy Coun—
Cel swear, he'l hear thee with a whistle;
And he's as shrew'd a man as Cecil.
For th'old and lame, knock'em oth'head;
Tis just like having babes to bed.
For lazie Truants, man or woman,
Turn'em a grazing on some Common:
Where if the rain or wind do trouble,
They may build huts with lome and stubble.
Which then, they for a Town may take,
And call't Acestes for his sake.
But all the lusty swaggering blades,
That can both fight and ravish maids,
Burn Villages and plunder Towns,
Swear oaths of all dimensions,
Keep these as th'apple of your eye,
And be their chief, I'le tell ye why,
126
That live by Tibers little brook.
But which shall shortly toss her nose,
Bove all the floods Jo: Moxon knows;
And spite of all their teeths compel
'Em to pay Custom and Ga---bel
Thus ends the Prophet Gaffer two-shoos:
For standing cold without Galoshoes,
The rhume his nose did tickle sore;
And sneezing forc'd him to give ore.
Æneas wits gon wool to gather,
Heed neither speech nor Nautes neither.
His busie pate was full of parables,
His soul was prickt as twere with sparables;
Thus paind like maid that weareth willow,
Quo he, Ile go consult my pillow.
Now was the night as dark as pitch is
And near the hour that favours witches;
When he tossing and tumbling lies,
Like one in Love above the eyes.
128
That Maudlin swore she'd come to bed.
Thus lying as he lay, tormenting
His brain-sick noddle with inventing,
Up comes the Reverent Anchises
In the same Doublet, Hose and Breeches
As he was always wont to weare;
For knowing how his son did feare,
Besides those Devils, Rats and Ferrets,
Those other Devils called Spirits,
And that an Apparition might
Make mad work with the sheets by night
Thought fit to come in shape lest dreadful
To him that had his brest and head ful.
The Curtains drawn, he sets him down,
And then quo he, God save ye Son.
Up start's Æneas in a huddle,
And all affrighted, piss'd a puddle.
For fear, though they were strong as Ludgates
Will set ope any Mortal's Floodgates.
129
Hold water Son, ye have protection.
Go ring your shirt, and leave surmises
I am your Father old Anchises.
Jove that has quench'd the raging fire,
According to your own desire,
Has sent me here your brains to settle,
And not with fear your mind to nettle.
As for the old and the decrepit,
To that which Nautes says, give credit:
Tis good advice, and as sententious,
As Huncks ere gave to son licentious.
But those that can both say and do,
Let them go all along with you,
To Tiber's stream, to which are bred nigh
A warlike race, of a strange kidney.
That sling a Devil and half at once,
If e're they meet with any affronts.
But ere ye go to this same war,
You must go under ground d'y'heare,
130
Where I shall be to do thee honour;
And make thee welcome as a Prince,
As hath the old saying been long since.
For I am no tormented soul
But walk about upon parole.
In fields Elysian without fetters;
Where all your souls mark't with red letters,
Their several sports and pastimes take,
With Cards, or Bowles, or Ale and Cake.
There you shall meet a curteous Sibill
Which there men credit next the Bible;
She'l go before you with a Lanthorn
To shew you ev'ry corner, and turn:
There you shall hear me make Tautologies.
Concerning all your Genealogies.
Which every day I con by heart,
As Children say their mornings part.
So Son adieu, the day appears;
I dare not tarry for my ears.
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Hobgoblins eyes always draw straws.
Æneas in a plaguy fear,
Sneaks out his head and cries who's there?
But having now the night-Mare slain;
And rung his wits all in again,
He springs upon his tayl anon;
Quo he, what Father gon so soon?
Not stay and take a dram oth'bottle,
After the pains of so much twattle?
How is your heart so cruel grown?
So short a visit, and be gon?
Return again my dear Dadda,
And hear how well I yet can say,
Pray Father pray to God bless me:
That silly fear should so oppress me?
And make me thus forget all grace:
Dog in a Doublet as I was.
Then out he goes for tinder box,
But by the way so hard he knocks
132
That passion urg'd could not forbear;
Quo he, pox take this dog my father,
To lead me thus I know not whither;
I warrant it an Inch-Incision,
The Devil take him with his vision.
But by and by when pain was over,
And senses did their seat recover,
His anger cooles, and he repents
Of his ungracious complements.
To make his peace he smoak'd the Room
With Frankinsence or some perfume.
A consecrated Cheescake next,
If I am not besides the Text,
(Though Lipsius and the German gang
Of Pedants only fit to hang,
Say 'twas a Fool) which merits faith
As giv'n to one that had no teeth.)
He gave old Vesta, old indeed,
Sh'had liv'd five thousand years a Maid;
133
This offring finish'd, and in post
His mattins said, and Ave Maries,
He's fix'd again for new figaries.
He goes to find the Rabble out,
He tels his tale; they laugh and flout;
Until he swore by his Virginity;
And then they could not in civility
But credit every word he said.
Acestes readily obey'd,
And without making long discourse
Promis'd'em all his utmost force,
Æneas not to spoil his plot,
Resolves to strike while the Iron's hot.
He streight calls out the old and feeble
And women most unprofitable,
And all the dainty, Lazie blouses,
That ships forsake to live in houses,
He only kept with him the stout,
Such as would hold all weathers out
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And four would ribrost half a score.
In number few, but great in heart,
Not valuing danger of a fart.
The ships were presently repair'd,
New Oars are fram'd, new masts are rear'd.
New taffata Jacks and silken streamers
For this new moddel had no Dreamers.
A toyl that words have quickly ended,
For what's soon said, is soon amended.
Æneas now Surveyor turns,
Gets him a Plough, and beasts with horns,
And most gentilely like a Clown,
Scores out the Moddel of a Town;
The Streets, the Lanes, and Market places,
Exact like Troy with all her graces.
Their Concubines apartiment,
And privies most magnificent
Acestes laugh'd untill he puk'd,
To find his Honour thus be-duk'd,
135
And Officers close stool to empty.
Then where they never were before,
To Venus, that Celestial whore
Upon the mountain, Erycine,
He makes a Temple, and a Shrine,
To lay Anchises bones therein,
And of the order Jacobin,
He Consecrates a lazie Priest,
Whose office 'twas in dirty vest,
Before a Taper always burning,
To howl out ditties full of mourning.
Thus having got a little quiet
They fell to junketting and riot;
Nine days in gluttony they toyl,
And drink like Shoomakers the while;
Till now the Ocean calm and gay
Tell's em 'tis time to take away,
The Southwind blows, but makes no bustle,
More then to call'em with his whistle.
136
And friend at length must part with friend.
So 'tis with them, now season calls,
Of force they must pack up their Awls.
The Galley-rosters then began
To howl and blubber, and take on;
The women loath to ly alone
Are all now frantic to be gon.
Æneas, who had words at will,
Begs'em with patience to be still;
Sometimes he laughs, sometimes he cries,
As Cunning sway'd his drolleries.
Twenty deluding tricks he us'd,
And so their female brains amus'd,
That they were well content to yeild,
And to the Conquest quit the Feild.
O heav'ns now what a noise is here!
Of humble servant, thine my Deare,
Farewell my Joy, farewell my Love,
Farewel my Hony, Duck and Dove,
137
Embrace and hugg, and on the Sands
Th'had taken their last leave, some think,
Had Captain giv'n'em the least wink.
Three Sheep are to the Tempests slain,
To keep'em in a merry vain.
And then for Eryx that town Bull
Four Heifers from the Herds they cull.
The Anchors weigh'd, all ready now,
Æneas stands upon the prow,
With Olive branch upon his brow;
As thus he sate in Princely pomp,
On a Portmantle easing Rump,
A young tarpaulin Jacka lent
Brought him a cup of musty Tent;
What's this quo he, the juice of Toads?
'Tis well enough, 'twill serve the Gods:
With that he powr'd it down the Main,
That drank it, as't had been Champain.
The guts and Garbadge of each beast,
138
For with the Brisket, Chines and Ribs,
Trojans themselves had fil'd their cribs.
The Seas thus pleas'd with Sail, and Oar,
They part from the beloved shoar.
You would have sworn, had you been near
That all the Kent-Street Broom men there
Had empty'd all their leathern geare,
Nothing was extant to your views
For a whole mile but Womens shoos.
Thus in old shoos their wishes flew,
While they look on and wish for new:
And so return from viewing fleet
With tongues more clamorous than their feet
Venus the while a slut most crafty,
And mindful of her white boy's safety,
Bids Coachman harness Flanders Mares,
And streight to Neptune she careirs.
Neptune, it being long Vacation,
For want of better recreation,
139
Was busie making Ducks and Drakes;
But when he saw the Lackerd Coach,
He left his sport and makes approach,
Bless me, quo she, what mean you so
Your noble pastime to forego?
In truth I blame my rudeness for't;
That thus hath made you leave your sport,
With voice more lulling than a lute
She had so charm'd the Sea-green Brute,
Madam quo he, kissing her hand,
I were not worthy my command,
Should I not all things set a side
When such a Dame, so near ally'd
Whom I love more, than you can guess it,
Shal honour me with such a visit;
Good now what wind has blown you hither?
Some plot of Juno upon the weather:
Y'are in the right on't, on my Honour
She plagues my heart out, pox upon her,
140
She burnt up all my sons whole fleet.
And would have gridled him himself,
But that the pretty harmless Elfe
Has a good faculty to ball it,
When any mischief does befall it.
In all our heav'nly Court there's none
But hates her like a Scorpion.
And Jupiter's a Hobby-horse,
He does not kick her out of dores
As one would kick a dog or bitch.
She has the Devil in her breech.
Time that brings all things to an end,
Can't bound the malice of this fiend.
The Laws of Fate she chops and changes,
As all things mov'd upon her hinges.
What need I tell you, you well know,
She's nothing else but fire and Tow.
But t'other day, in Lybic Seas
What a Combustion did she raise!
141
Within your Highness territories;
But that your Grace, I humbly thank ye,
Seeing how meanly she did rank ye,
Were pleas'd to take good cognizance
Of puffing slaves Irreverence,
And so cornub'd'em, that I think
Their windy holes began to stink;
And then the sneaking sons of whores
Pull'd in their horns, like Cuckolds Currs,
That find by letters intercepted,
How well their stately heads are grafted.
But tempests missing her desire,
She seeks to work her ends by fire;
But then her husband by a shower
Stopt the damn'd progress of her power.
That which remains, I beg your Grace
To let your Seas keep smiling face.
Let only gentle Zephyr be
Your Highness courteous Deputy.
142
Chase'em like Hornets from my nose.
Let Son at Tyber safe arrive;
And for so doing, as I live.
My Maids shall work ye against Easter,
A pointed Band worth twice a tester.
I tell you this, as I am modest
Upon the word of a true Goddess,
Dear Madam, why such words as these?
You are sole Mistress of the Seas.
From thence you came: The Seas were mad,
If they for you no kindness had.
And therefore vex your self no more,
I'le make the winds your breath adore.
I'le have a care of your young man,
The same that Doe has of her fawn:
Fair Simois and Xanthus both
I call to witness upon Oath
The large effects of former care;
Achilles when, great man of War,
143
Your dapper Son would needs incounter
And like to have his brains knockt out,
In cloud I rapt him, as in clout,
While his fierce foe in vain pursu'd,
And th'Air as vainly hack't and hew'd
I have the same protection still,
The same intention and good will;
And for the sake of your bright eyes
He ne're shall want what in me lies.
Moreo're to shew I love him well,
I'le give him passage into Hell.
Faress and regress to his wishes,
As he were one of my own Fishes.
The Lady hearing so much mercy,
Dropt him a very delicate Curtsey.
The King of floods then gave command,
And Coach is tackled out of hand;
Coach by two Hippopotams drawr,
Not Dolphins as the Learned fain
144
The pace of Princes and their wives
At his approach the Sea becalms,
The waves as quiet are, as Lambs;
Winds clap their tayls betwixt their legs,
Like Chaplain took at Baudy Pegs:
The Scene was chang'd quite through the main,
All cover'd now with Neptunes train.
He to shew Lady Coz. his Port
Had summon'd all t'attend his Court.
First the Promoters of the Sea,
His Sarjeants and his Catch poles, they
Were certain Monsters, th'ugliest Rogues
That ere were seen, upon Sea-Hogs.
Whales of all sizes, sorts and shapes,
With noses made like squirts for Claps,
Whence they could spout ye with a vengeance
Whole Rivers, like my Lord Majors Engins.
These Glaucus lead, a man of note,
In scallop shel instead of Boat.
145
Upon a Trumpet call'd Marine.
Ino's Executor Palæmon
Rid mounted on a good fat Sammon;
Old Triton second in the Empire,
Rode in a Chariot frindg'd with Sampire:
A Scallop lin'd with mother of Pearl,
Which six large Oysters nimbly whirle
Phorcus the next most eminent
Brought a whole a ragged Regiment
Riding with dirty shirts on Sharkes,
All dammy Boys, and Hect'ring Sparkes;
Next Thetis with her Sallow jowl
Rides monuted on an ambling Sole;
And next to her was Melite,
Behind her man upon a Ray.
Fair Panope a Virgin still,
Bestrides an o'regrown Mackaril.
Cymodoce brings up the Rear,
Upon a nimble Didapper.
142
Made by the Chiefs of Sea-born Nation:
Æneas at the weather smiles,
A smile in length above three miles.
Men might have seen his heart untroubled
Caper Coranto's through his doublet,
Among the ships there's not a lazy one,
All by the fore-lock take Occasion;
Their sails are full, and Seamen brisk,
Some go to sleep, and some to Whisk,
The gale works for 'em, while the Ships
All keeps their course, their Amm'ral keeps
That steer'd by Palinure, a head
The body of the whole Fleet lead
Starboard, or Larboard, or No near,
How e're he steer'd all others steer,
The Rowers all the Season blest,
That gave them so much time to rest,
And all lay down upon the plancks
To recreate their weary Flanks.
143
Look out for Sea-marks, and for sholes,
The rest, without the aid of Poppey,
Or juice of Lettices, so nappy,
So soundly slept, that some men swore
Their very souls where heard to snore,
When, lo, a little Urchin whipster,
A god cal'd, but more like a Tapster,
That by his good will would never waken,
But sleep all day in rusty Bacon,
This demi-god is Deaths one brother,
Tis well sh'has him, sh'has nere another.
This drowsie Soul drops from the stars,
Dispels the Mist, that hid his Arse,
And thus like a dissembling Knave,
For Palinure provides a grave.
Like Phorbas clad, quo he, dear Friend
What harm dost thou thy self intend
By watching thus? aside thy care:
And sleep a while, while weather's fair,
130
Of Galleys, that no harm they take.
Follow your Fools advice that please,
I'le sleep no sleeps, by Gods good grace:
Who sent you here with this blind story?
Thus Palinure frumpt young John Dory.
This bold young Sophister howe're
Continued still to buzz in's Ear'.
He beggd him ore and ore again
To clear his eyelids, but in vain,
For Palinure he could not coax:
Friend, quoth he, y'are in the wrong box.
Is this a time for me to snort,
Knowing the burden I support.
How should I answer to be found,
I fast a sleep, Ships fast a ground?
My Master, great Æneas, sure
Would give much thanks to Palinure.
A scalded dog the Kitchen bauks,
So we have had enough of rocks,
137
Finding perswasions nere so civil,
Would not prevail, draws out a jelly,
The colour I can hardly tell ye,
With this same oyl, not oyl of Violet,
He rub'd the Temples of the Pilot,
Who, without dreaming o the Fleet,
Falls flat on's belly fast a sleep.
When on a sudden part of the steerage,
Not well repair'd or out of meer age.
Whips off, and Pilot, heav'n knows how,
Only that Virgil says 'twas so,
Went with a murrain altogether,
A strange mischance in such good weather,
And therefore wise men guess it rather,
(Though bad excuse by Virgil made,
Is better than t'have nothing said)
That the old man too much had drank,
And going to sh--- fell off a plank.
However 'twas, wak'd with the fall,
138
For he was drown'd, and mischief done,
Away th'unlucky God doth run.
How e're the Ships steer a right course,
For Neptunes promise guides their oars,
Though some conjecture they did well,
Rather by hap, than by good skill.
Tell by and by the Rocks approaching,
Where Syrens live, all day debauching,
Æneas by good chance lookt out,
And seeing Ships so neer a rout,
Thought Pilot either drunk or dead,
And that without his present aid,
The Ships would be at six and sev'ns,
He goes to see: but then O Heav'ns!
Th'astonish'd Mortal quickly found,
That Palinure, Good man, was drown'd,
The Galleys swom at seven and six,
Like blind men groping without sticks,
And now they gan approach the stones
139
And yet the waves neer shallow shore,
Lay howling day and night for more.
Æneas, whiter than his Cravat,
Saw 'twas nothing for man to laugh at;
'Twas time i'faith for him to work,
The which he did like any Turk;
And streight though night, and hard put to't,
Got sea room, and good way to boot;
He wrought, but could not sing a noat,
Like merry Coblers under stals;
For grief had spoild his Madrigals;
But for his Pilot, now a sleep,
A hundred sighs he fetch'd ful deep;
He puft, and heav'd, and roard, and snob'd,
To see himself of Pilot rob'd;
Ah my Dear Friend, his noddle shaking,
That now must sleep for want of waking,
Whom sleep it self, hath taken napping,
And strangled in the water dropping,
134
Thou shalt be cast and seen no more;
Though if no Porpoise eat thee up,
Nor Sturgron on thy carkass sup,
Time may perhaps bring thee to light,
Till then, Dear Palinure, good Night,
FINIS.
1
LIB. VI.
Such words the sad Æneas spoke;They would have melted heart of oak
His copious grief ne'r wanted Onions,
For tears were always his Companions;
They were no tears that dropt from goblet,
That so besmear'd his Princely doublet;
2
The tears of real Lamentation:
He griev'd for Palinure so long,
That had his Widow been but young,
She could not have refus'd, I trow,
The Man that lov'd her Husband so:
But Fate, that good and bad conjobles,
Playing on back-side of the Tables,
Checquering his Fortune black and white,
Now shews him a most lovely sight,
Th'Euboic shore, so near at hand,
That you may quoite a stone on land;
For joy they threw their Caps i'th' Sea,
For we'l ha' better, strait, quo they,
So loud they did each other welcome,
Pool might ha' heard the noise from Melcom;
That done, they fall to shipping oar,
Cast Anchor and the Galleys moore;
The Galleys, with the Spritsail Bow,
To lee-ward turn'd, lay all a row,
3
Or Beads on Pater noster bracelets,
And now the mad tar pauling Spittles
Are all for smoke, or else fresh vittles:
Away in mud, up to the knees,
They ding a shore. For seeing trees,
Quoth they, a Forrest, and if so,
By Jove we'l have a brace or two.
So some steal Deer, and Keepers beat,
And others wood, to roast the meat;
Another Gang on all four creeps,
Digging sor Flints to light their pipes;
And if a River they espy;
Yon's water to make drink, they cry.
While Pasties made have time to soak,
Pious Æneas takes a walk;
He spies a House, first thought a Lodge,
But prov'd a Temple, never budge;
I Know where now I am, quo he,
Apollo's Fane this needs must be;
4
Of which I have heard full many a quibble;
For by this Den there hangs a tale,
If Daddy spake not in his ale.
And something of a moldy verse
Hath bred a maggot in my A---
This Riddle me Riddle me what is this,
To visit soon I must not miss;
'Twill cost at least two full hours time
To hear her shitten come shites in rhime.
This Temple for its outward structure,
And inside beauty, as I conjecture,
No Bunken Masons hand did rear,
Nor was design'd by Welch Surveyor,
Nor painting done by daubers 'prentices
That spoil Church wals with pious sentences
But by ingenious Dedalus,
Whom Minos threatning for to truss,
He soon fix'd wings unto his back,
And thither fled to save his Neck:
5
They take him for some monstrous Kite.
At length at Cume he doth alight,
And there according to his oath,
The Carpenter and Mason both,
He built a Temple wondrous fair,
Wherein to keep his Wings so rare:
Such was their zeal then, hence I gather,
Men would build Temples for a feather.
Within the Portico, as I remember,
Painted in oyl, not in distemper,
Murder'd Androgeus plainly shews,
That those that kill'd him were his Foes.
There, like the man that spews up purge,
Stands Minos clawing with a scourge
Faithless Cecropians raw buttocks,
For giving his Wives Son the pox.
Right against them was painted Creet,
A Tale like this you seldom meet;
Nothing a Womans lust can cool,
6
There the grave Father shews his Trounser
And his young Son, the half-veal Mounsieur;
By Mothers side a Prince at least,
But by his Fathers side a Beast;
And yet this Thing, part Man, part Beef,
Was well belov'd by Mino's Wife:
Who as the Picture shew'd to th'life,
In Labyrinth, by Dedals art,
Enjoy'd the Pizle of her Sweet-heart:
More Pander he, with such despite,
To horn the Royal House of Creet.
There Icarus had been painted too,
But Dad for thee was full of wo;
Such was th'affection of his brain,
He could not see thee drop again;
Twice cry'd th'Old-man, while eie did blubber,
But, when the wax 'gan to unsoder,
Down fell his pencil, like his Son,
And so the work was left undone.
7
Had almost star'd out both his eyes,
When grave Achates came i'th' nick,
And prov'd by dint of Rhetorick,
That 'twas an act of Fools and Boyes,
Thus to stand gazing upon toyes;
When time was precious, and men ought
To strike the iron while 'twas hot.
Then Lady Abbess Deiphobe,
(Pinn'd up behind her upper Robe)
Seeing the handsome Son of Venus,
This Lesson gave him, Ore tenus.
Great Sir, the Lord of many Hectors,
Is it for you 'mong toyes and Pictures?
You Lord Chief Baron of the Sages,
Is it for you among I-mages.
To think to find a kingdome Gratis?
Or since to say so much my Fate is,
To have a Kingdome drop i'your mouth,
While you are wallowing in sloath?
8
You must turn over a new leaf.
Leave baubles then, like silly Knaves,
And cut the throats of eight fat Calves,
And eight fat Sheep, as I give order,
Of pictures let me hear no further.
Twas quickly said, and quickly done.
For all on several errants run,
Shuh, then cry'd she, as men drive Turkey's
Driving the Trojans down a Stair-case
Into her lodging all before her,
There's none resist, for all adore her,
It was a Dungeon dark and foul,
Much like the Witch of Oukey's hole.
It had an hundred doors and better,
For every post brought heav'nly letter
Wherein the Answers were contain'd,
For simple cox-comb Mortals fain'd.
Æneas now arriv'd at place,
Where Cushion rich expects his Grace,
9
That now ye may demand of me;
All on a sudden Visage chang'd,
Black in the mouth, like one that's hang'd.
A madness seiz'd her, though Divine;
If otherwise, I'le not repine,
For 'tis no bread and butter o'mine.
Distemper, even such another,
Which your Wise women call the Mother;
In this same rage, the hair-brain'd questril
Shew'd the foundations of each nostril:
Her eyes that well might pass for bright,
Appear like charcoles giving light:
Her tresses that disshevel'd flowed,
As bigg as knitting-needles shew'd:
Her lips besmear'd with foam, I wiss,
In bad condition then to kiss:
Her voice grew hoarse, and lungs opprest,
Like Organ bellow's fill'd her breast:
In brief, this Old Cœlestial Antick
10
Quoth she, Æneas say your Creed,
Believe it else we ne'r shall speed;
This holy House wo'n't ope one hatch
To give our prayers the least dispatch.
Then said Æneas, Mighty Serious,
Fair Lady Abbess been't so furious.
O Phœbus then, Quo he, whose care
(Attend with reverence to his prayer)
To Ilium alwayes fair and square,
When proud Achilles laught to scorn
All men, like him, not shot free born,
Did so direct young Paris dart,
As through his heel to hit his heart;
From many shores and many Seas,
And people worse than Savages
Have I escap'd, though shrewdly hatter'd
Which my lean hopes has somthing butterd;
Why do I run from place to place,
And nothing gain in eight years space?
11
To one that has it not, like me;
Just like the poor Duke of Lorrain,
To call that mine, which is not mine.
Behold me now arrived here,
But if I miss this place, I swear,
Were ye ten times more god, then y'are,
And whom I love more than I do,
I shall not value ye my old shoo.
Now then without more Fiddle faddle,
Upon the right horse set the saddle.
In saving us from further trouble,
You'l shew your self a Christian double.
Why should ye thus for one mans sake,
That onely him did Cuckold make
Who well deserv'd it, a meer toy,
A race of Innocents destroy?
Fate has design'd us a good Land,
Why should'st thou pious work withstand?
Troth if I find that be the drift,
12
And therefore, O thou mighty King
Of Link-boyes all, that rore and sing,
And thou the Queen of all that use
Bright Lanthorns to keep clean their shoes;
Now hear my prayers, and wot ye well,
Ye shall have Temples ding dong Bell,
Where men shall pray with stipends large,
At mine, or at some others charge;
All queristers of skilful note,
That sing within Book, not by roat.
And for you Madam skummer-tail,
That with a word can turn the scale;
Cajowl the Gods, as thou knowest how,
And thou shalt see, what I shall do;
Presents I have of Silkes and Sattins,
A Coach and Horses to save pattins,
Cupboards of Plate, and eke more mony,
Then thou know'st how to spend, my Hony;
But do not speak to me in Riddles,
13
But write in velum all thy lurry;
In Roman hand or Secretary.
Or, like a Ballad, make it so,
To tune of Fortune is my Foe.
Thus pray'd Æneas till their heads ake;
Then Virgin play'd the Devil for God-sake:
She churm'd with head and eke with bum
To make the sacred Oracle come.
At length the hundred gates flew open,
And words like these were strangely spoken
Great Captain of the Trojan host,
Upon the Sea so lately tost;
As Villain Waves, with cruel thumps,
Have often put thee to thy trumps:
So will the land, as basely cross,
With thy sweet meat mix sowre sauce:
The land is thine as sure as Gun,
But thou shalt swear of Oaths a Tun,
Ere thou hast peace, and curse all those,
14
Many a rap on pate full rough,
Many a slash quite through thy buff,
In skin full many a button-hole,
And memory chaf'd behind the pole,
Shall let thee understand that Roses
Can prick as well as please the Noses.
Wars, horrid Wars I see, and Tyber
With humane blood full ten times wider,
Like Xanthus, she for shame not blushes,
But for the blood, that daily gushes.
A new Achilles born of Goddess
You there shall find to bump your bodies:
Your old Friend Juno full of rancour,
Shall never fail ye with a Twanker,
For ye ne're knew a monied Whore
Without her Hectors halfe a score.
And thus reduc'd to low estate,
Here thou shalt beg, and there entreat,
But succour get the Devil a bit.
15
Another beardless Animal,
I mean a Woman full of rage;
Another fatal marriage.
But be thou bold, as Bayard, still
In spight of all the Devils in Hell,
Thy enemies cake shall all be dough,
The very Greeks that brought thee low,
From Prince not to be worth a farthing,
Shall be the first for thee jeo-parding.
Tis strange you'l say, but yet I do
Assure you though 'tis strange, 'tis true.
And thus the grey mustacho'd Sybil
Came to the end of dubious riddle.
Then quoth Æneas I'le be hang'd,
If she her self this understand;
Pox of her toothless chaps for me,
Can't she speak sense, tho words ben't free?
As Devil came in, so he went out,
Again she made a dismal rout,
16
Like Mortals pepper'd with the cholick:
Æneas curs'd him, and his message,
For by the stink, he gest his passage.
So soon as Fury gan abate,
Æneas he renews his prate.
Quo he, good Virgin, leave your bounces,
Speak you, or let me speak four ounces:
No sooner said, when she forsooth
Lets a great fart full in his mouth;
The sound was heard above a mile,
Which forc'd him under hat to smile.
And then with countenance grave & stay'd,
He thus bespoke the ancient Maid:
The dangers that you have declar'd,
With gentile patience I have heard;
But what care I, let more be stir'd,
I value them not worth a t---
One thing I beg of you to grant,
That's by your courteous means, good Aunt
17
And view that hideous place, call'd Hell;
And for to see my Lord, my Father,
Of Trojan flock once chief Bell-weather.
For scarce without your helping hand,
Would I embark in that Dutch Land.
And yet to see my Dad Anchises,
I'de venture without Shirt or Breeches,
Through many a Pike, and many a Dart,
Although I ran the Gaunlet for't;
And yet I don't much like the sport.
When Fire did our poor City sack,
I took him up upon my back,
Not suffring danger to come nigh us,
From whence I got the name of Pius:
For which good man in recompence,
He still has follow'd me ere since,
Alive or dead, I thank his Grace,
He ne're would leave my sleeping place:
Like faithfull Dog, still at the heels
18
He told me that without you are nigh,
I shall but make a fruitless journey,
That I shall find of smoaky Court,
Like Misers door, fast barr'd the Port,
In pitty of my quality,
Let Cerberus your friendship see,
Least worse than Dog of Tanner he
With greedy fury seize a shin,
Or tear my doublet from my skin.
If Orpheus, but a Ballad-Singer,
Onely, but holding up his finger,
That Dotard Charon could intoxi-
Cate and bring away his Doxy,
If bold Alcides made 'm quake,
If Theseus, Pollux, had the knack,
If indeed ev'ry Saucy Jack,
Could when he would his friend bring back
Why should not I, of Gods descended,
Be more than such Paltrons befreinded.
19
And sure I can more safely swear,
For one so known to be my Mother,
Then any o'them swear for their Father.
Y'have heard, what Great Æneas said,
Now hear, I pray, what she reply'd.
The Ancient Jade all turd, all honey,
Touching his eyes, that lookt so bonny,
Darling of Venus, may it please ye,
The way to Hell is very easie,
Any may go that pains will take;
But the main thing is to get back.
Few men by gods though lov'd as dearly,
As men themselves love juice of Barly;
Though they came out of Jove's own Twist,
Or from a Goddess engine pist,
That go to Hell in taunting scorn,
Have cause to brag of their return.
In those vaste Regions Woods are seen,
With Leavs all sooty black, not green,
20
Whose water no good drink will make;
There's not a Brewer will live night;
This Lake it is Cocytus hight.
Yet notwithstanding my Assertion,
If you admit of no Coertion,
Though give me leave to tell you true,
I never met a fool like you;
And better 'twere, I further tell ye,
To burn what hangs below your belly:
And this is faithful wholsome Counsel,
Which I'de ne're take from any Dunce ill;
I say if yet your fingers itch,
To visit Charon's filthy Ditch,
There is an Apple-tree, whose Fruit
Wou'd, if they knew how to come to't,
Fit rarely well your Neat-house Gardens,
Where fools give Crowns a piece for Wardens.
This tree within a wood lies hid,
Where you may see as well at Mid—
21
Nor will a Lanthorn do a mans turn,
Unless it have a lighted Candle;
Both Branch and Fruit are Gold to trondle.
It now grows chiefly in Peru,
And in some other parts a few.
Infernal Juno, Pluto's Wife,
This fruit loves rather then her life;
By her good will she'l eat no other,
A costly Quean, just like her Mother;
Give her Boon Chrestiens, and she'l fart,
Give her but this, you win her heart.
If any fool without this goes,
Streight Cerberus pulls him by the nose.
Make no more words, if brains be'nt supple,
So presently and find this Apple:
[illeg.] both your eyes, as you would see
[illeg.] Needle in a Bottle of Hey.
[illeg.] all depends upon good luck;
[illeg.] if you are by her forsook,
22
But if she favour you this bout,
You'l find it just before your eyes,
And gather fruit with as much ease,
As nimble finger'd Maid's catch Fleas;
But first of all I you advise,
To bury Friend, that stinking lies,
And if he lies unburied long,
Will Fleet infect, he smells so strong;
His heavy soul is much dejected,
To see his body so neglected.
Who knows what injury his pray'rs,
May bring to your ill fix'd affairs:
Go therefore, and appease his Ghost,
'Tis but a Sheep or two at most;
And judge you now what fooles those are,
Will lose a Hog for a ha'p'orth o'tar,
Or for an Ora jam pro nobis,
Which may produce pax esto vobis.
Æneas gave her no reply,
33
The death of Friend did now so grieve him,
'Twas past all Brandy to relieve him,
And partly care of golden bow;
A purchase he no more knew how,
Just at the instant, for to make,
Then carry Churches on his back.
His head thus laden with a peck
Of troubles, like to break his neck,
He quits the Den, like man of grief
Coming from Fun'ral of his Wife:
He bit his Flesh, and cust his brain,
That such bad Guests did entertain.
Achates followed him at heels,
And findes how he his lot bewailes.
What a pox ailes the man, quo he,
Was ever such a Sot as thee?
Was ever man so plagu'd as I?
Then quoth Achates, pray Sir why?
Th'are riddles all y'speak to me.
24
With that his finger doth decipher
Where lay Misenus his Bag-piper;
Or speech or motion had he none,
And which is worse his life was gone;
Which was the reason, though well bred,
He now saluted 'um, being dead,
The Son of Eolus, or rather
Old Eolus was his own Father.
He knew full well to fill a Sackbutt,
And he could whistle like a Black-bird:
He'd trumpet with a Tooth-pick case,
Holding a Mouth-piece in disgrace.
Hector he us'd to sound asleep,
Who gave him three half crowns per week,
And once a year a Coat with sleeves.
He being gone where Old Nick lives,
Æneas streightways him preferr'd
Chief Trumpeter to his Lifeguard,
With yearly pay, an hundred Franks,
25
Besides for curing Gallic sores,
He paid his Pothecaries scores.
Better h'had been a Kennel-raker,
Then such an exquisite noise-maker;
For while he dares the Tritons grim,
To tryal of their skill with him,
A while they heard his Roundelays,
But fearing he would get the praise;
Among the rest one with a hook
Pull'd him down headlong from the Rock:
Go there, quo Triton, with a wannion,
Art thou for Demigods Companion?
They laid him out upon the shore,
Wee'l have burnt Wine, if nothing more;
For Ribons and for mourning Rings,
Spare us dear soul, w'have no such things:
Thus said Æneas without Leeks,
Bathing in tears his rosie Cheeks;
Are these your reasons, quoth Achates?
26
Then out they went for food, and faggots,
To burn Misenus and his Maggots:
No Woodman never work'd so hard,
As did Æneas with hal-bard.
Down went the underwoods and bushes,
As Jove had sent 'em 'gainst the Thrushes;
The Captains fingers twisted Bavins,
As fast as Wenches rattle bobbins.
Nor were the Latins then in haste,
To bring their actions for the waste.
All things thus finish'd that were proper,
As 'twas but time, they went to supper.
Æneas that had well digested;
(For doubtless meat was soundly rosted,
In all this time so vainly wasted)
But that which now in stomach rose,
Was that which ne'r came there, God knows
A certain bow lay thwart his maw,
Far worse, than had the meat been raw.
27
And shew me where this bow to find,
(For hang her whore, I must believe her,
Misenus shew'd she's no deceiver)
Now could I dance without a Fiddle;
All troubles banish'd from my noddle;
As jocund then as Elder Brother,
For death of the old Hunks his Father;
He had no sooner spoke the words,
But lo, just at his nose, two Birds?
Pigeons they were with golden wings,
O how he capers then, and sings,
For well he knew, by their crou-co's,
They were his Mothers pritty Crows.
Then did he out of bosome pull,
A silken bag of tares top ful;
You think I lie, and story slight,
But such it seems was his foresight,
That never without tares he went.
And now the birds to compliment,
28
But Birds were shie and full of fears:
And therefore since they slight his tares,
Oliver-like he falls to's Prayers;
My pretty Pigsnie Doves, quo he,
Who need no legs, because ye flee;
If y'are my Mothers, sure I am
Y'are both well bred, both Pidgeons tame;
Then as y'are Turtles without guile,
Now help a lame Dog o're the stile:
Shew me but how to find this Codling,
For which my addle brains are mudling,
(Would it were mine in shitten clout)
I shall be gratefull without doubt,
And give you for your kind dispatches
Your full demands in Pease, or Vetches:
Or if you'l have of both, ye shall,
Of each a Bushel at a meal.
Prayers being done, the Pidgeons flew,
Which made Æneas nose look blew:
29
Eyes always fix'd upon their Rumps;
On Heav'n so much he star'd, and scorn'd
The Earth, that while a stone he spurn'd,
The scorned Earth tript up his toes,
And laid him sprawling on his nose;
The thirst for Gold that he was in,
Sufferd him not to mind his skin,
For streight ere Cat can lick her ear,
He's up again at's old cariere.
The Turtles now approach'd the Pond,
(For still by flying they got ground)
Or rather horrid Lake Avernus;
Quo they, This Lake doth not concern us;
From Devils Arse in Darby Peak,
So strong a breath so hot did reak,
(Which cause it stank like any Tombstone,
Was still perfum'd with flow'r of Brimstone)
That Turtles us'd to Venus Chamber,
Could not endure the Devils Amber;
30
Got over Satans Chasing-dish,
O'th'other side the Devils Ditch,
Within a place, within the which,
This Brain consounding Tree did grow,
They perch'd upon a golden bow,
So runs the Man to take up Phesant,
When Fowling-piece has hit his wezand,
As runs Æneas, streatching sinews
For Pipin worth some twenty Guineys.
Now Virgil, like a Whelp and Bacon,
This fruit unto a Gum doth liken,
A Gum in colour much like Saffron,
The similes not fit to vapour on,
Chiefly for him, that so well knew,
Sol would have lent him Ray or two;
That Phœbe was not so much worn,
But that she could have spar'd a horn.
Never was money-bag by Audeley,
As was this Pipin, seiz'd so rudely.
31
From parents hand snatch Bartl'mew toy.
And as they run to shew next friend,
So runs he to Cumean Fiend.
While he was prosecuting Wheedle,
The Trojans were by no means idle.
Shedding whole Tankards supernaculum,
Of burnt wine tears, o'r good-man What-ye-càl-him,
I mean the Trumpeter Misenus,
T'whom Virgil once more doth confine us.
With red rose water they had wash'd
His skin with the salt waves bedash'd.
Th'had trimm'd hin like a water Spaniel,
And wrapt the body up in Flannel,
According to the true intent
Of Trojan Act of Parliament,
A baudy Batchelour of Art,
His Fun'ral Sermon preach'd by heart;
So little he in book was seen look,
He scarcely read his text within book.
32
As right as e're top'd at Frank Vero's.
Five Herald-Painters had been scraping
The morn before, for Scutcheon making.
But money's short, Æneas cry'd,
Else one had surely been imploy'd:
Æneas, charitable He
Did never spare, when Fobb ran free;
And now to's pow'r, shew'd very well
That he could bury, as well as kill.
Then th'odorous offerings of his friends
('Twas all the Tarr which they could scrape
From the Ship sides, and every Rope)
Was thrown among the firebrands;
For Rhime as well as Sence, I wis,
Admits of a Parenthesis.
The sacred Reliques, piping hot,
Chorineus clos'd in brazen pot:
Cooling the heat, before or after,
With gilt Bayes dipt in Holy-water.
33
With tankards full their Lungs they drench.
Pious Æneas, who ne're shall
Claw off that name while's Cap's of wool,
As he was wont, all in a hurry
Made him a Tomb like hill Silbury:
And lest occasion he might have
To use 'um afterwards in's Grave,
Sets by him the old Fudling noggin,
Wherein his Nose was always jogging;
Two bales of Fulhams low and high,
Tobacco, Pipes, and good Sher—ry:
His Trumpet, and his Armes so bright,
And Tinderbox to strike a light.
Then made the Mount to bear his name,
Even Misenus; Man of fame,
To make a hillock, more then wonder,
Bear that a top, was buried under.
Having perform'd these Ceremonies,
He takes his leave of all his Cronies;
34
By order of Cumæan Sybil;
A Den there was, whate're's becom on't,
Or whatsoe're is now ith' room on't:
A hideous, horrid, hateful Cell,
The Gullet of that Monster, Hell;
A Sarazens mouth was nothing to't,
'Twould swallow mouth and head to boot,
At th'end of which a filthy maw,
Whose food was always Mans flesh raw;
Which all o'recharg'd and surfeted
With the Corruptions of the dead,
With Belches thick and pestilent
So well perfum'd the Element,
That not a Bird which thither flew,
Or sought to make its passage through,
But with a sudden Meagrim took,
Fell down into the fatal Brook:
For with a Brook, or rather Lake,
'Twas ditch'd about, whose waters black
35
'Twas hedg'd about with gloomy Woods,
Which spreading root where waters flow'd,
Like Forrests in the Sea they show'd.
The air within, so sayes the story,
Was like a Syrup, thick and glorry,
Which with a poys'nous dew besmear'd
Th'Infernal Barathrum's black guard.
Æneas, who for his own ends
Was always making Gods his friends,
(For he that will be good Stat-holder,
Must be Divine as well as Souldier)
Before the mouth of dismal hole
Three Heifers brought, as black as coal:
A Trooper these, half Priest, half Barber,
With Backsword than a Razor sharper,
[illeg.] Wash-ball shav'd, 'twixt lugg and lugg,
Which made 'um look more gent & smugg.
They were not trimm'd, to go to Play,
[illeg.]or see their Mistresses that day;
36
The bloody stream pours life away.
Æneas in his zeal so hot,
With Sword or Skean, it matters not,
Of curled Spaniels with black hair,
Instead of black Sheep, kills a pair:
For there are two things most an end,
Love and Devotion, very blind.
To Hecate were Heifers slain,
Of Heav'n and Hell She-Soveraign,
While Priest invoking Tawnie wench,
Mumbled his Pray'rs in Pedlars French.
The Spaniels kill'd by over-sight,
One he presents to Madam Night;
The other to her Sister Tellus:
And fearing she should have the yellows,
(For Goddesses and Parsons Wives,
Mind their punctilio's more than lives)
To Proserpine a little after
He gives black Taurus only Daughter,
37
Had neither Calf, nor yet Mischance;
For women then, for all their freaks,
Lov'd bellies better than their backs;
There were no two Exchanges then,
That women made, by marring men,
Else Marrow-bones and Brisket-Beef
Had been poor toyes for Pluto's Wife.
Pluto whose turn must next be serv'd,
So long the rule has been observ'd
To please the women first, and then
By their assistance please the men:
Had Puritan ne're learnt this Lecture,
Old Nol had never been Protector.
But why, Æneas, why so civil?
What Cloth and Napkin for the Devil?
Quo he, there's none great things must handle,
If they can't hold the Devil a Candle.
That many ha' done; then why not I
Hold Trencher to his Sov'raignty?
38
By double double-diligence.
The Devil in Cuerpo set to dinner,
They set before Grand-Visier sinner,
All the Beasts Entrails wash'd but meanly;
For they were more devout than cleanly:
Yet lest his appetite should fail,
They gave him Mustard, and Train Oyl.
Æneas tamely Trencher shifts,
Adding observance to his Guifts.
Pluto, the Devil and all at Tripe,
Layes on, like man that beats his Wife:
But having fill'd ungodly gut,
The crouded wind seeks passage out;
So loud a thundring Fart broke forth,
As shook foundations of the Earth,
Avernus yells, the Mountains amble,
The Ocean roars, and Forrests tremble;
The Tanners Dogs they fall a howling,
And Trojan Peers their Hose befowling.
39
To usher in Cumæan Maid;
For soon as his Recorder stopt,
Like Wolf in Fable, in she popt.
Be gon, ye Sons o whores, quo she,
That credit neither Jove, nor me:
Get ye from hence, e'en to Bengall,
Or else the Devil confound ye all;
For you, Sir Knight, draw forth kills-a-dog,
And get ye gon to House of Magog.
Pull courage up without brown studying,
And boldly stand to thy pan-pudding.
This said, as mad as Hare in March,
She flung within the dismal Arch.
Æneas now o're shooes o're boots,
One leg before another puts,
Where he could not see for his guts:
In one hand holding trusty Sword,
Either for snick or snee prepar'd;
With t'other, Witch by Petticoat.
40
Praying for himself, and not for Hero)
That in Hells Belgick Provinces
Put human Souls in Little ease;
To talk and prate, now grant me wit,
Quicquid in Buccam venerit;
Strange hidden myst'ries to unlock,
And stories of a Bull and Cock;
And to relate, though not in Non-sense,
A story fouler far than Johnsons.
If any one denyes that this
Is Virgils meaning, let him kiss—
Æneas, as before I said,
By Wastcoat held Cumæan Maid.
The Hero made not too much haste,
For well he knew, that haste makes waste,
His tayl between his legs he claps;
His splay-feet make Iambic steps:
Sometimes he treads on Witches heels,
Which made her curse his Sparables:
41
With Nose in Arse, a demi-fall.
Virgil, no Christian, but a Sarazen,
Brings here a Heathenish Comparison,
Saying they wander'd without light,
Like men that wander in the Night;
Through Woods and Forrests up and down
By light uncertain of New Moon;
Which she, more dark to render, shrouds
In a black Visor-masque of Clouds;
While Pitchie night so hoodwinks eyes,
They can't distinguish wood from trees.
Though some that in these latter times
Virgil out-wit for sence and Rhimes,
Say he would have done better far
With Candle and Extinguisher:
But had he took the snuff to boot,
In socket seeming sometimes out,
Then briskly darting forth a flame
More glorious than Æneas fame,
42
Beyond the claws of drolling Momus;
But whether it were dark or light,
What's that to you, so they went right.
No sooner Witch and her Companion
The cold Infernal Transilvanian
Kingdom approach'd, but there he saw
Sorrow, as pale as Oaten straw;
Attended by a thousand Cares,
That streight came buzzing 'bout his ears:
They in their eyes all holding fingers,
Star'd up like Bucks beholding Strangers.
Next, Death and Sleep at tables end,
With face 'twixt folded elbows lean'd,
Sate snoaring loud as City Watchmen.
Diseases more then Jews or Dutchmen,
Had next to these a wide Partition,
Within the Regions of Perdition.
Among the rest French Gonorrhea's,
Were very courteous to Æneas.
43
Afraid of their discoveries.
The next they met with, were the Souls
Of doting, ill-tongu'd, babling Fools,
By Leachery to Age conducted,
Whom Fear with weak support protected.
Fear, Want and Hunger lead; both these
Wil make men swear the Moon's green Chese;
For, for bad Counsel th'have no fellows,
Friends unto none but to the Gallows.
Quoth Hero then, Dear honey Witch,
I scratch methinks where't does not itch.
With that she shew'd him hairie Crupper,
Of drowsie beetle-headed Sopor.
And dreadfull Toyle, as you may conster,
Far uglier than Serini's Monster.
With these a many dismal dozens
Of Mothers, Fathers, Uncles, Cousins;
All Hypocrites transform'd, that thought
Wry mouths and faces Heav'n had bought;
44
Was th'only Fullers-earth for sin;
That Durant's Wash-balls could not scowr,
Like Malice steep'd in a long Pray'r.
Thousands of Amorous-Billet-Carriers,
Cupids Fox-dogs, or rather Terriers;
Deep Orange Molls, and Midwives Deputies,
That for the Love-sick ne're want remedies.
My Ladies Secret-keepers, Maids
In shew, but over-ridden Jades.
Both ends exhaling just alike,
Like Porters foul Tobacco-pipe.
Proud Pedants, old Arse-whipping Dunces,
That nothing know but make great bounces;
Great Thieves that hang the little ones;
And Dice-makers of Debtors bones.
She brought him then into the Sties
Of Grisly black Eumenides:
Whose Snakie Curles, and Viper-wiggs
Had Bastwick worn, 't had sav'd his luggs:
45
Such sights were ne're at Southwark Fair.
A little farther stood a tree,
If you and Rider can agree,
A perfect Elm, whose Fruit exotick
Were only dreams of wild Fanatick;
Of hair-brain'd Sects Enthusiasms,
Disturbing-Church-and-State Fantasms:
The Fruit was Chymist idle trash,
With Lockiers Pills, and Trigs Hog-wash:
The Gums within for all things mighty,
Spirit of Salt, and 'lixar Vitæ.
For Berries it was wondrous happy,
For of the Berries men make Coffee.
Under the Branches, wot ye well,
When it rains Dogs and Cats in Hell,
The shelter'd Centaurs roar and yell;
Mounted on Monkeys, with their tayls
As closely shav'd as back of nayls.
Of Dragons a most hideous Rout,
46
Three headed Geryon's horrid Race,
With every one a Serjeants face.
Fierce Gryphons all with armed gumms,
More terrible than Sheriffs Bumms.
Gigantic Jaylors, men of Fury,
Briarean Turnkeys, Heav'n secure ye.
Of strange Chimæra's infinite shoals,
With Gorgons heads upon their tools.
Of Harpyes, or of Scolding Whores,
Some twenty thousand thousand scores.
These villanous Countenances there
Made bold Æneas piss for fear.
He laid his hand upon his hilt,
And on his brows pulls down his Felt;
Defend me now, quo he, dear Hanger:
But Patient Grisel stops his anger;
My Friend, quo she, these Hobady-boodies
Are but fantastick, airie bodies,
Not to be slic'd like reaking Capon,
47
His rage for this was much the stronger,
Though some believ'd, 'twas rather hunger.
Quo he, now finding Victuals proper,
I'le have a Gorgon's head to Supper;
With that he strook so fell a blow,
That had he hit, I know what I know.
But having miss'd, his Princely nose
Lay equal with his Princely toes.
At Sybils feet there lay Æneas,
Damning like ten Penthesilea's.
What means, quo he, my cursed Steel,
That I that strook, the blow must feel?
The Sybil with amazement shreeks,
Shame take, quo she, your hair-brain'd tricks,
'Tis well y'have got a good Protection;
Else you might find a worse Correction.
Quo he, I crave your pardon Madam,
I know my length now to a fadom;
For he, compounded, mente sana,
48
Misfortune knew as well to flatter,
As with reproaches to bespatter.
Quo he, 'tis well it is no worse,
They that want Coyn, must shit in purse.
This brunt thus over, they pass on,
To gloomy banks of Acheron.
The mud that little pleas'd their noses,
Smelt neither Jelsomines nor Roses.
The reason why you do not hear,
Th'had any mind to angle there.
To this sweet stream belongs a Ferry,
One Charon Master of the Wherry:
A beast of a most pleasant structure,
As by his shape you may conjecture.
His visage rustie Pot-hooks hew,
Was neither black, nor brown, nor blew.
He wants no mirrour when he dresses,
But when he kembs his matted Tresses,
He only uses stead of Comb,
49
Sometimes bedaub'd with wiping Bum.
The sweat that drops from brows so bestial,
His Beard receives with joy Celestial.
A Coco Nut like thread within,
Without cream'd over like a skin:
Which like a Leather Bottle hangs
Down to his breast from place of Fangs.
Instead of Girdle, round his reins
A Linsey-woolsey Gown he chains:
He's lean, but strong as Hercules;
(For Gods are always what they please)
There's ne're a Gally-slave in Sally,
When Pizzle notches back like Tally,
That pulls so strong, nor works so hard;
Yet nor for fear, nor yet reward.
Millions of Souls early and late,
Continually at Ferry wait;
Poor Souls that having bodies lost,
Look like shorn Squires in Blankets tost,
50
Higgledie piggledie, Whore and Chast,
The Miser and the man of Wast;
The Atheist and the Puritan,
The Beggar and the Gentleman;
The frolick Slut, and wilfull Maid,
With strings and collars Apes to lead.
Have you e're seen in month December,
(I am deceiv'd, 'tis in November)
The wither'd Leaves how thick they lie,
Cov'ring the Fields both far and nigh.
Or have you e're in Summer seen
The swarms of Flyes both black and green
I think if any would but count 'um,
The falling leaves would not surmount 'um;
Or like the shoals of Teals and Ducks,
In Winter haunting Streams and Brooks:
Of similes, here you see's a feast,
And therefore take which you like best.
For even so the Souls do throng
51
For know at Charons Temple-stairs
'Tis always Term, and store of Fairs.
Were all that damn'd noise-making croud
But there, they need not bawl so loud
Next Oars, next Sculler, happy He
Could get a Boat for his money.
But this same cross-grain'd Rogue, that knows
There's ne're a Boat but what he owes,
Seeing 'um come as thick as Hops,
He hunches some, and some he flops,
Not caring where his Stretcher lights;
The more they beg, the more he slights:
And more then that, there he must stand
Were he the best Lord in the Land.
Æneas though he could not ease 'um,
Of tantum croudum, tantum pressum,
Quoth he, Fair Dame what is the meaning?
Quoth she, all froppish terms refraining,
All these that here your Worship sees,
52
To Clark nor Priest, nor Bell to toll,
And so were thrown in any hole:
Poor Souldiers that in flying Tombs,
Lye buried in the Vultures wombs.
Others were murder'd, some devour'd,
By Wolves and Tigers over-power'd;
And all that for these many Lusters
To feed the Whales have gon in Clusters:
And all that having hither strayd,
Their Earthly reck'nings left unpaid.
But chiefly, those were carry'd to Church,
Leaving their Sureties in the lurch.
These are to have no rest in Hell,
Till it on Earth with Bones be well.
They must attend a hundred years,
With Chatt'ring teeth, and Frozen ears:
Like More-hens and Didappers hid,
On shores of Styx they must abide;
That Styx so fam'd by All the Nine,
53
By which the God that idly swears,
Is Pillory'd and forfeits ears.
How Gods became so superstitious,
And Devils carefull of the vitious,
Or rather to their bones propitious,
You may go ask those Poaking Criticks,
That search Close-stools of Metaphysicks.
These things thus laid in Hero's dish,
Æneas stood, mute as a Fish:
Like Merchant dampt with sudden loss.
Then making more then one large Cross,
(His wonted Zeal recovering heat)
Quo he, this Penance is too great,
And with the Devil's leave unjust;
For who'd not rather bones and dust
Should in a good warm Coffin lie,
Than be expos'd to open skie?
But what cares he what Laws he makes
For others, that himself all breaks?
54
Put finger in the Devils pye,
'Twixt rage and pity, mild and waspish,
He spyes Orontes and Licaspis;
Not more concernd for loss of Lives,
Then loss of Hells Prerogatives:
Both drown'd at Sea, and by that flaw,
Within the lash of Satans Law.
To see such Friends was no small grief,
And he was searching for relief;
But ere he well could rommage Fobb,
His grief receives another bobb:
For just at hand see Palinurus,
Shrugging his shoulders, Heav'n secure us,
All o're bedaub'd with mud and gravel,
With nothing rampant near his Navel.
Dear Friend, quo he, what mak'st thou here?
And art thou too a sufferer?
Has Phœbus thus turn'd Cat in Pan?
Yet late he told me, Perjur'd man!
55
And brisk in Seas as Conger Eel;
Should'st in a while arrive again
With us in Fields Ausonian:
Shame on his Harp and glittering hide,
Yet ne're before to me he ly'd.
Tell me then which of all the Gods
Thus dipt thee in the Brinie Sudds:
Some thin-soul'd Deity, Pox rot him,
I'le pawn my life, some Foot-boy got him.
Poor Palinurus answer'd, Sir,
Ye talk just like a Mad-man, for
The Gazett never told more truth,
Than did the bright Latonian Youth.
No god drown'd me, the Devil a bit,
Only your tongue runs fore your wit.
To tell you truth, I know not which
Was heaviest, my head or breech:
For either head my tayl out-weigh'd,
Or else my tayl o're-poiz'd my head:
56
For tayl could ne're ill Counsel give.
Howe're 'twas, in I dropt I'me sure,
Sleep catching me, as Moss caught Mare.
When I was in, I boldly swumm,
And but for Fish that nipt my Bum,
(Although I'de rather been at Steerage)
I neither lost my hope nor courage.
At length with many Salt bedablings,
And some affronts of Neptune's Crablings,
I got ashore, and thought no harm,
When Lucan Dogs about me swarm;
And for my Cloaths, not worth a groat,
With Savage fury cut my throat:
And then with a Good night Old Toby,
Into the Sea they flung my body.
Thus came I here, nor better, nor worse;
Lay Saddle then on the right Horse.
Now then by all the Light on Earth,
By the fair womb that brought thee forth,
57
Be sure thou put 'um in the Pound.
As for my self, what shall I do?
I blush to beg, though't be of you;
And would I steal, they're poor as Job;
And had I Gold, I ha' ne're a Fobb.
Oh pity then my weary bones!
You know I was your Pilot once;
Though by a fatal one time erring,
Now neither Fish nor good Red-herring.
You burnt Misenus, oh burn me,
For I am cold as February.
Or if it be, as people dream,
That you are passing Stygian stream,
Great Emperor of Living Souls,
Take my cold paw in your hot golls.
Let Charon with his Stretcher stretch me;
If I let go, the Devil fetch me:
That so at length your Humble Mourner
May rest in Satans Chimney Corner.
58
But—Marry Gap, quo frumping Sybil,
You are too hasty, Gaffer Blow-nose:
Old Dotard you mistake the way;
The way to Hell is not through Sea.
Because your Captain has got leave
To pass the Acherontick wave,
(A thing has cost five hundred Marks,
To Secretaries and their Clarks)
You think that Fate must change her Laws,
All in good time, for your cold Paws?
Shall Hero lose his time and money,
And all to pleasure such a Ninny?
Friend stay your time; yet this is fair,
I'le send ye Irish Ruggs a pair:
And this I say, to chear your heart,
The Lucans since, and thank me for't,
Have wish'd their Stones in a cleft stick,
When they so rudely broke your neck.
I sent your Ghost to walk among 'um,
59
And plagu'd 'um with a Wiltshire Drummer,
Till they were forc'd to scowr and scummer.
To pinch their Maids I sent my Fairies;
And made their Pewter dance Canaries.
Your Body they shall burn eftsoons,
And in a Pipkin put your bones,
And bury't in a Stone-horse Mixen,
(They'd better do't, then anger Vixen)
This Mixen they shall wall about,
To keep the Hogs from Revel Rout,
And plant it round with Sycamores;
And when that's done, the Sons o' Whores
Shall call it Palinurus Hill;
And then you may go where you will.
Good Palinure contented thus,
Made a low legg, and hand did buss.
Æneas gave him a French Crown,
And lent him an old Indian Gown;
And so they parted as they met.
60
At length they came; for fear of fall,
Hero held fast by Fardingale.
When Charon saw 'um, without flatt'ring,
Hoarse as a Riggol, Beard bespatt'ring,
Quo he, What Don Quixot comes here
Where only shades of men appear?
What Princock Knight with Sword and Lance
So boldly dares to Boat advance?
What if the mighty Hercules,
That was a man all Aloes,
What if the mighty Pirithous,
And Theseus once did o're-crow us?
That fell a hacking with their Backswords,
Cutting my Iron Chains like Whipcords:
Yet got they not, with their bravado's,
Sheer in, without some Bastinado's.
Fellows more like in Taverns bred,
Then at the Gods own Tables fed.
Such rude Belswaggers, all Pickt-hatch
61
One, Cerbr'us took by all his Tayls,
And knockt his three heads 'gainst the pales.
Another, cause he but cry'd Ur—
'Twixt Pluto's leggs thwackt the poor Curr.
Another hearing Proserpine
Was in her Chamber Lying-in,
Run rudely up, breaks down the door,
Crying, I'le claw your tayl, ye Whore.
But Proserpine bestirr'd her claws,
And with her Busk so mark'd his jaws,
Besides some lustie Crupper kicks,
(For she had always her Jades tricks)
As quickly cool'd his Martial vigor.
Pluto to me was full of rigor,
And bated me a Quarters wages,
All for the feats of those Salvages.
Therefore, Sir Knight, return I say,
And seek Adventures where yon may;
By Pluto else I'le comb your Coxcomb,
62
Ye mangie, stingie Friar Bungey,
Like testie Sexton on a Sunday,
Who do you speak to? quo the Sybil,
This Gentleman's a worthy civil
Well-spoken man, beshrew my heart,
As e're was wrapt in Holland Shirt:
He's no Swash-buckler, nor no Ranter,
Nor drunken Park of Whetstone haunter:
The sweetest Natur'd loving Chuck,
That ever handled Ladies Smock;
And therefore t'en't your Copper snout
Shall keep the Squire Æneas out;
Nor ne're a Turdy Jack-in-Office,
The best of y'all, take you good notice.
Æneas more compos'd in mind,
Gravely, quo he, my honest Friend,
If you regard not gentile aspect,
Nor of my Cloaths the Velvet prospect,
(And yet I know, that Lace and Garters,
63
If good behaviour, good report,
Good breeding be not worth a Fart;
What think ye of a merry Spanker?
Quo Charon, then I'le weigh my Anchor.
With that the gentle Monsieur shews
His golden Pippins, and his Bows:
At sight of which, the driveling Lubber
Could nothing else but grin and slabber;
With such a force ran Rhumie stream,
That you'd a sworn it a Mill-dam.
When drivel once would let him speak,
He made a bow, made Chine-bone crack;
A scrape like Sergeant to a Judge,
Would ha' set Castletons teeth an edge.
May't please your Worship Squire, quo he,
So many Princum Prancks there be,
Pretenders to Gentility,
While every Tom, and every Dick,
Struts in his Ribbons upon Tick;
64
Like to your Worships Worships Lordship,
That worship miss, which an't like your Worship,
We else should give to true Sen'orship.
An't please your Worship, I have seen
A Taylor like your Worship fine;
Now Lord and Taylor swear a like,
A like be-rogue us, then we strike;
For an't please your Worship, how is't possible
Poor Slaves like us, should be so docible
To know a Taylor from a Lord,
Same Cloaths, same Lace, same Belt, same Sword.
Alas! an't please your Worship, we
Have nothing else but the bountie
Of men of Worship, such as ye.
I hope your Worship will pass by
What I have done unmannerly;
Your Worship knows that in our places,
We cannot well distinguish faces.
Then turning to the Croud; quo he,
65
I'le make this day a Holiday;
I'le carry not one more I say,
Unless the Squire's good Worship, and
His Lady Mother, by this hand.
All that were in, he then turn'd out,
And with a Mopp he wash'd his Boat;
Ye six-penny Jades and Rogues, quo he,
What! go with Persons of Quality?
Two Cushions then of Taylors thrums,
He fetcht to ease their tender Bums;
Set up his Back-board very spruce,
And brought out Tilt, for fear of use:
For I shall be upon the Fret,
Quo he, to see your Worship wet.
Now being seated in the Boat,
He lent the Lady his old Coat,
Who presently set up her throat;
And reason good, for the thin Wherry
Accustom'd only Souls to Ferry,
66
Make but a pound, and that Troy weight;
Five thousand, say the Criticks quaint,
Will stand upon a Needles point:)
Now with a brace of Bodies prest,
One all in Armour Back and Breast,
And Life-guard Boots up to his twist,
With Golden Pippins pocket full;
The other a fat bossie Trull,
Whose Buttocks weigh'd full out a Stone,
Setting aside her huge Ache-bone.
The Boat I say thus press'd with weight,
In twenty places 'gan to split:
'Twas time to squeek, for Lady watchet
Car'd not for Styx so near her Placket.
Æneas seeing wave so high
Of Stygian Ink, began to cry
'Slife, we shall drink it by and by.
The Ferry titter-totter went,
And therefore in a Complement,
67
The Arm-holes of his Swatterkin.
Charon from one in t'other extreme,
In humour still as soft as Cream,
Quo he, Fear nothing gentle Monsieur,
My life for yours, both safe anon Sir;
'Twas as he said: For Stygian Lands
And Stygian Ferry streight shake hands.
Æneas nimbly skipt ashore;
But the fat lazie Sybil whore,
Whether her feet were wet and cold,
Or whether 'twere that she was old,
Or whether Hero, now a [illeg.]
For joy, his Manners had forgot;
But how it came it matters not,
For come it did, and thus it come,
That she fell down and shew'd her Bum:
Up flew her Coats, as she fell down,
(She'd better ha' given half a Crown)
Displaying pair of Nasty Buttocks,
68
The first was only Ascititious,
A certain Treacle, scarce delicious,
Bedawbing Fortune-tellers tail,
When heart in Boat began to fail.
The latter was their natural hue:
Æneas seeing goodly shew,
Was press'd to laugh; but yet for fear
To Lady laughter should appear,
Held fingers just before his Nose,
Like Maids when men Trapstick disclose.
Æneas taught by this disaster
All was not Gold that made a glister,
The rest, like man of Education,
Buried in mental reservation.
Hard by, not strew'd with Bawm nor Fennel,
Was Cerberus's nastie Kennel;
This Curr was Proserpines Lap-dogg,
She comb'd and flea'd his horrid shagg;
Yet seeing chief of Trojan Peers,
69
So loud the furious Monster bayes,
Hell eccho'd with his fa-la-la's.
But Madam, who knew all the slights
That Coblers use, when Mad worm bites,
By prudent foresight, in a Bottle
Had brought a Posset of a pottle,
Of Opium made, and Gunpowder,
Sweetned with Honey for the Curr.
He had no sooner lickt it up,
But down he fell in Kennel, swopp.—
Quo Hero, when that same he saw,
Now for the nine points of the Law,
I mean possession; and with that
He flew to seize upon the gate.
And thus, the Suburbs past, they got
Into Hells City by a Plot.
For make but an old Bawd your Crony,
You'l make the Devil a meer Tony.
The first sad sounds their ears salute,
70
Such as had been, to save expence,
Christen'd and Buried both at once,
In Privies drowned by the Mother,
Who shame to hide, the Children smother.
Next there were some in years, confin'd,
Whom Justice, or the Judge as blind,
Perhaps because he was no Scholar,
Had in his Liquor hang'd, or Choler.
And all that had been made Anatomies,
By Perj'ry brought to say their Litanies:
All your vain-glorious Heads of Factions,
Plot-wrights, and Weavers of Distractions;
(Who, cause on Earth so turbulent,
To Hell in halters had been sent:)
All Heirs of Kingdoms hugger-mugger'd,
And private ones by 'xtortion begger'd:
To Minos they lay ope their breasts,
Chief Master of the Devils Requests;
He takes a note of all their Crimes,
71
Takes their Petitions and their money,
And all to cleanse his back-side honey:
For why, Great Dignity requires
Such men as he should wipe with Quires.
Many a Splitter of the Law,
Traytors to Clients, there he saw.
Revenge is sweet, for now the Rats
Th'had starv'd before, feed on their guts;
While Injur'd Client, their green Baggs
Bestirs about their Leathern luggs.
Like the Sea-Sands in numerous shoals,
Next were discover'd Female Souls;
Such whose insatiate furious Lust
All bounds of Modesty had past;
Such as would have their business don,
Although the Hen-peckt Fool look'd on;
While Gallants come in Kinsmen's shape
The hot Adulteress to jape:
Now every one tormented lyes,
72
All forc'd to stir, by Fate's commands,
The flaming Dildo's with their hands.
Next these a crew of Sullen wights,
That only 'cause the Maggot bites,
Will needs take Pepper i'the nose
'Gainst their own lives; streight Richard goes
And Tompson kills; he that scarce dares
Fight a dead Rat, a living fears.
Cheap Bravo for a Boatle Scotch,
Shall his own throat, like Tally, notch.
'Mong these were seen the muddie frie,
So much in Love, they love to die;
That having miss'd the flower of Bristol,
Nothing will serve but Sword or Pistol:
Or wanting stab in stabbing part,
Will needs go stab her self to th'heart,
Among the crowd of these mad Martyrs
Was Phædra, hang'd in her own Garters.
Fair Procris that did sobb and roar
73
Euadne all in Mulligrubbs
For her spruce Ushers gingombobbs.
Pasiphae with broken heart,
For a meer Bull's engendring part.
Erisiphell that for a Locket,
Had cuckolded the Grecian Prophet.
Laodamia for a Porter
So sad, that nothing cou'd comfort her.
Ceneus that had both Sexes try'd,
But now, cause she was neither, cry'd.
How Virgil else came to think of her,
It past my Learning to discover.
Among the rest, to Hero's grief,
Was Dido smelling like Hung-beef:
For from the Embers of her nock
There issu'd still an ugly smoak.
Æneas would have rather seen
The Devil and his Dam, I ween:
Had I, quo he, ten thousand Dunns,
74
But when he saw no lurking place,
He summons up his Brazen face;
Madam, quo he, would I were damn'd
If you don't make me quite asham'd:
Yet Fashion of the world is so,
When turn is serv'd, then kiss my toe;
Though when I heard of your mishap,
And how you dy'd of such a Clap,
I search'd my Breeches, sure quo I,
Æneas, thou wer't not guilty;
For I am sound as any Roach,
If you misdoubt, try t'other touch.
O then quo I, brim full of woe,
I'le follow her where e're she go:
And had I now not lov'd ye well
Think you I'de e're ha' come to Hell?
Only to visit gentle Dido,
So help me Jove, and bright Cupido.
Think you that I shall e're forget
75
How I in Kitchin rul'd the Roast,
And for a Hash but over-sauc'd,
Have churn'd the Cook till from his Bum
I made the yellow Butter come.
At board thus entertain'd, at night,
O Heav'ns! what charms did me invite!
And think you I'de ha' left my poking
So like a Nick-a-poop for nothing?
Oh Madam something 'twas no doubt,
Cat winkt when both her eyes were out.
By all the Stars, by those above,
If any truth on Earth do move,
I had not left your sweet Embraces,
Had not the Gods, shame take their faces,
Hurri'd me thence, like man that tarries
In fear of Sheriff's Janizaries.
They laid their poxt commands upon me,
Bid me be gon, or they'd ne're own me.
Did you but know what tears I shed,
76
How many nights I spent to frame
Forc'd Anagrams upon your Name;
How many Barks of stately Ashes,
My Knife has hack'd with Love-sick slashes,
All in remembrance of your thighs,
You would not say, I tell ye Lyes.
Whither so fast? stay gentle Dame:
But Dido feeling still the flame,
Fierce as a Scold to Ale-house come,
To fetch her drunken Husband home,
Gave him a look, that through eye-hole
Pierc'd from his brows quite through his Pole;
Troubled no more at all his moan,
Then Magnet Rock, or hard Flint-stone;
But making Horns, and letting Fart,
Away she dings from old Sweet-heart:
For she had got another Booby,
Sychæus hight, to jerk her Toby.
Æneas glad the storm was over,
77
For though he outwardly did grieve,
Yet inwardly he laugh'd in's sleeve:
Beshrew my heart, the Lybian storm,
Quo he, ne're did me half the harm;
For I have sweat and cry'd so much,
I'me e'en as dry, as Wood call'd Touch.
From thence he came unto the place,
Where muster'd lay the Martial Racè:
Such as make Frays to force young sinner
Into a Composition Dinner;
Or urge the Duel, to provoke
The promise of a Chamlet Cloak.
Captains and Majors, huffing, smoaking,
Confounding, damming, drinking, joking;
Ratling the Dice, while thred-bare Sword-man
Cryes out, a third man, hei—a third man.
They talk'd of nothing else but slashing,
Cutting, hacking, hewing, swashing:
Less was the noise when Bajazet
78
Their very tongues were all Backswords,
Their mouths were Canons, Bullets, words.
'Mong these Parthenopæus hight,
And Tydeus eke, that furious wight;
Adrastus too, that at one blow
Cut sixscore Greeks heads off arow:
Among the rest Moll Cut-purse mingled;
They lov'd her, 'cause her Pockets gingled.
Streight he perceives his old acquaintance,
Not talking tittle of Repentance,
But over their half-pots of Ale
Telling this story, and t'other tale.
Collonel Glaucus, Hacker mighty,
Sarpedon buzz'd with Aqua vitæ:
Antenor's Sons, and churlish Medon,
That if the Drawers vext 'um, flead 'um.
Terpsitochus, and Polibetes,
Both good at blows, but not for Treaties:
A Car-man durst as well be poxt
79
Old Priam's Coachman next appear'd,
With Livery, Whip, and yard long Beard;
For Masters sake, they cry'd, debauche man,
Quo they, Love me and love my Coachman.
All these had Helen's tayl sent packing,
While they maintain'd her wanton smacking.
Captain, quo they, come take a Noggin;
But he reply'd, I must be jogging:
His tears began to fall like hail,
To see the jerks of woman's tail;
So many men in such disgrace,
And all for a Whores pissing place.
At length among the Greeks he struts,
Brave Agamemnon and his Trouts;
Who hearing such a fearfull racket
Made by the Hero's Iron Jacket,
They fell a staring like Red Deer;
I'the Devils name, quo they, what's here?
Hero advances still, but they
80
Dead Lions durst not shew their face,
When living Dogs are in the place.
They knew how guilty they had been
Of thrashing his Celestial skin,
And thought he now would pay their scores
For all his bruises and his soars;
Or else make them his Bills discharge
For Surgeons Salyes, and Doctors Purge:
Which they might well expect to be
Long as a Spaniards Pedigree.
Else why so fearfull, more then others,
Is that which Virgil wholly smothers.
Streight he espyes th'Illustrious
And high-born Prince Deiphobus,
Clad at the rate, to speak impartially,
Of the poor Pris'ners in the Marshalsey:
His Nostrils of their flesh bereav'd,
(And then the cause is soon conceiv'd)
Shew'd you his Memory's Lodging Chamber,
81
For Comliness exceeded many-a-one,
A tawnie bald St. Omers Onyon.
Nothing but stumps of Armes remain'd;
His brows with clotted gore bestain'd:
And for to shew that for no good
He oft had in the Pillory stood,
Men from his head had shav'd his Ears,
As close as death had shav'd his hairs.
Asham'd of these his miseries,
He turns his Arse to Hero's eyes;
Ah dear Deiphobus, quo he,
What Sons of Whores thus mangled thee?
Do they thus pinck in this same place
The top of all the Trojan Race?
Had Car-man dash'd my Linnen cleanly,
I would have us'd him more serenely.
If 'twere the Surgeons roguerie,
Say who it was, I'le make him flee
His Country and his Pedigree.
82
As they had for thy Members wrangled.
I search'd among the slaughter'd rout,
But since I could not find thee out,
I built for thee an empty Tomb;
Call'd thy Ghost thrice, but 'twould not come
The Monument still bears thy Name,
Thy Armes are safe within the same;
If use at any time do crave 'um,
Send Foot-boy for 'um, you may have 'um.
Dear Lord and Master, how am I
Endebted to your Courtesie;
Thus Deiphobus did reply:
I am assur'd 'twas not your duty
T'oblige a man not worth your shoe-tie;
But you, alas! a Bed may lye,
Your Name is up for Charity.
You know how I in a Fegary
Must needs that charming Piss-tail marry:
Why she it was, that Whore my wife
83
Wou'd Jove, that trod in shape of Gander
The Goose her Mother, Hell confound her,
Had had his pate slic'd by some Poulterer;
How Paste would ha' become th'Adulterer!
Or had some Spaniel suck'd the Eggs
That hatch'd her hansome face and leggs:
[illeg.] had been happy, missing Spouse
Fit only for the damn'd Gal—lows.
O that that day the Hangman Priest
The Nuptial knot had there made fast!
For the last night, poor I did snore
In the false bosom of the whore,
The Grecian Mare, without the help
Of Midwife, did our ruine whelp.
This Jade not ign'rant of the Plot,
On top of all the House had got;
And there pretending great Devotions,
With Flambeau, made designed motions;
Thereby, like a disloyal Spittle,
84
This was not all, but in the Night,
Pretending how she went to sh---;
She takes my Armes and trusty Scymetar,
And hides 'um in the Earths diameter:
For there they had as good ha' been,
As not at hand, when Foe came in.
Then in her Slippers and her Smock
Down stairs she goes, doors to unlock;
While I loud snoaring like a Pigg,
Weary with humming her black guigg,
Was streight surpriz'd; and being surpriz'd
Disarm'd and naked, hash'd and slic'd
Just as you see: that scoundrel Bastard
Ulysses, seeing me so master'd,
Faint-hearted Dog with all his art
Heart'ning his Hounds to tear my heart:
Thus I came here, dismembred creature,
Having no substance, nor yet feature.
But you whose Armes do both environ,
85
What makes you come so like a Fool,
Like unbid Guest, without your stool.
Quo Hero, Friend give you an inch,
And rudely you an ell will pinch;
You are too saucy, not now living,
To ask th'affairs of the surviving:
Nay I must tell ye, men alive
Crow irksom, when inquisitive.
Quo Sybil, weary of his chatting,
What will you never leave your prating?
Must I stand waiting here thus weary,
To hear your tales of Canterbury?
While you with every Shackatory,
Stand holding idle Gossips story;
Behold how fast the Sun Caroaches,
At Amesbury to tipple loaches:
Within this hour in Plimouth Bay,
He'l bid good night to Southern Day:
For I can tell, that ne're use Watches.
86
How the road parts three several wayes;
Why stands your Grace in such a maze?
That which the right hand doth discover,
Directly leads to Pluto's Loure;
T'Elysium this the path doth shew,
Whither, God willing, we must go.
This last leads to the Common Jayls,
Foul Caverns made for Criminals,
Where thousand gluttons back and tayls,
By rugged Hangmen full of rancour,
Are scourg'd untill their Buttocks canker.
At this rebuke poor Deiphobe,
Having receiv'd so dry a bobb,
Like a young Beggar twice deny'd,
His tatter'd members went to hide:
Else, sure as he was void of life,
Sybil had pull'd him by the Coife.
As he was marching, mumbling low,
Heav'ns prosper ye, where e're ye go,
87
To bring ye to your Journeys end.
As Hero cast a Sheeps-eye after him,
Cursing the Rogues that did so slaughter him
Behold a Castle large and wide,
With Adamant Bulwarks fortify'd.
In vain the Gods themselves might think,
Although in guts a Tun of drink,
By pissing all together there,
To make a pin-hole in a year.
About it Phlegetontick stream,
Whose waves are a Sulphureous Cream,
That with a horrid roaring rowls,
Instead of Sand, o're burning coals.
This Castle is so wondrous high,
(Now Devil help me with a Lye)
That up t'Infernal Roof it marches
Twelve hundred thousand million Perches;
And would the Verse have giv'n me room,
It should have gon beyond the Moon.
88
With Dowlass Smock all over blood:
No Porter to a Fav'rite Lord
Was ere so fell, upon my word.
Whoever comes, she has a Clubb,
With which she gives him pockie rubb;
'Tis bad being Knighted with her dubb:
For she'l not wear a Porters Gown,
For fear of cumb'ring her Batoon.
Her Girdle only fit for murder,
Like Twist of the Franciscan Order:
A certain knottie Cat-a-nine-tails,
With which she ferks the poor souls entrails.
A strange confusion fill'd the place,
(For Bolton bates 'um not an ace)
Of cutting, hacking, hewing, slapping,
Chains ratling, thumping, bumping, strapping;
Hands-wringing, sobbing, snobbing, howling,
Lamenting, shrieking, cater wauling.
Æneas stood, so did his hairs,
89
Quo he, what means this horrid garboyl,
That thus my dropping loins doth parboyl?
Hast thou here brought me, with a witness,
To get my bane by Sweating-sickness?
May't please your Honour then, quo she,
When my good Mistress Hecate
In love and kindness eke, so fervent,
To me as to her eldest Servant,
Of Closet, Cellar, and of Pantrie,
Made me her trusty Governante
Of all my Master Pluto's Tacticks,
I soon got Theorie, and Practicks.
Here Tyrant Rhadamanthus reigns,
Furnish'd with Scourges, Racks, and Chains:
Domitian, Julian, Turk, nor Tartar,
Were e're so cruel by a quarter;
No common Dutchmen in a Hurry
Did ever rage with so much fury:
For Hangman He, and Judge like them,
90
The Inquisition and Scotch Classis,
To Rhadamanthus are but Asses;
Continually both day and night
They hang, and drown, and flea, and slit;
And toast, and roast, and broyl, and boyl,
And puff, and huff, and toyl, and moyl:
And draw, and saw, and chop, and mince,
While Bodies roar, and kick, and wince.
From Castle some in Barrels rumble,
Re-mounted strait for t'other tumble;
And skins to be re-flea'd, most true,
Ere they can whet their knives, renew.
The fire with natural fury fumes,
It burns, but body ne're consumes;
When gridled flesh like bright Cole-glimmers,
Like Smiths they thrash it with their Hammers;
And having sopp'd it in the water,
Return it back, without a Ha-Cor.
Yet lest they should be discontented,
91
More cruel then, than Whipping Tom,
The Jew Tisiphone doth come,
And with a whip of twisted Snakes,
Of howling Convicts claws the backs;
The Snakes take hold at every slash,
And bring away a gobb of flesh.
Then cruel bands of Sister Imps
She calls, all flat-nos'd, blear-ey'd Pimps;
That with their Frumps and Alley-gibes,
More pierce poor Souls than with their stripes.
All this doth Rhadamanth behold
With heart, like that of Mistress, cold;
Smoaking the while a whole Patacco
Of gridled skins, stead of Tobacco.
The gray Enchantress scarce had spoken,
When, Bounce—the Brazen-gates flew open.
See there, quo she, i'th' Devils name,
Those fifty heads that vomit flame.
Quoth he, that sight I don't admire,
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Quoth she, this Beast ycleped Hydra,
Of this same Garrison so wide a
Is th'ever-waking Sentinel;
And so indeed she may be well;
For one head sleeps, while t'other watches,
That there's no 'scaping of her Clutches.
There's Tartarus, pray mark it well,
Descending down as deep in Hell,
As 'tis from Hell where Jove inhabits;
A hundred thousand thousand Cubits.
Down at the bottom of this pit
Titanian Boys their fingers bite;
For these same shatter-brain'd Snap-dragons
Would needs scale Heaven in their flaggons,
So thick and threefold up they go;
But Jove had a good friend below,
That prudently so order'd matters,
That with a jerk he turn'd the Ladders.
The two Alcides, topping Roysters,
93
The shells and all; and cause that they
Refus'd such Scoundrels to obey,
They in a fury without flattering,
Heav'ns orient windows fell a battering,
With Stones as big as their own B---,
And those, they say, were just like Hillocks.
There lyes Salmoneus, that Bravado,
Half Morter-piece and half Granado;
With Pease and Beans he cramming guts,
And guzzling Bottle-Ale in Fats;
Loud thundring Jove thought to out-thunder;
But Jove with Seed of Coriander,
Forcing the wind more fiercely out,
At his own weapons beat the Lout.
And there the Devil of a sinner,
Another Lobcock, just like Venner,
Hog-Mogen Tityon lyes in state,
Cov'ring at once a Knights Estate.
'Tis an ill wind blows nothing good,
94
By the fair Shift upon his breast,
Makes a continual Sheriffs feast:
And now the fool finds his Minority
Well taught for kicking 'gainst Authority.
Ixion with a scabby Nutt,
With Juno needs would go to Rutt:
Juno at first was well content,
Till finding heat of Excrement;
Traytor to all the Gods, quo she,
Had ye no Whore to Clap but me?
With that Jove took him by the Navel,
And flung him head-long to the Devil.
There Pirithous lyes, and why?
Because he gave great Jove the Lye:
In Poud'ring-tub, as in a Vault,
All cover'd over with Bay-Salt.
There Tantalus with small content,
Is forc'd to keep perpetual Lent:
A greedy shameless hungry glutton,
95
He robb'd Jove's Pear-trees, in his breeches
Carrying away his Plumbs and Peaches:
And always so be-plagu'd his Pantry,
As forc'd him there to set a Centry.
At length Jove caught him with a trap;
And now he has the sad mishap,
Always to see a Table spread,
Good Beef, good Wine, good Cheese, good Bread;
But when he reaches to the Sauce,
A huge great Fury raps his paws.
Here Haslerigg and Pym lye close,
Just so deluded in their tast,
For setting up Seditious Fast.
With them in the self-same condition
Are Parasites, men of Perdition:
Your scraping smell-feasts lye with these,
All full of mites as mouldy Cheese:
With Sons to Parents disobedient,
Lye Stepdames, a most vile Ingredient:
96
Which if Hell han't, 'twill have 'um all.
Many a Country-man of Lot,
Ye cannot touch 'um, they're so hot,
Much troubled with the Piles, for which
With liquid fire they 'noint their breech.
There Theseus sits, and shall sit there
Untill his Arse grow to the Chair:
For Pluto cares no more for Theseus,
Than we for Close-stool where we ease us.
Now like a Saint there preaches Phlegius,
His Sermons long, and very tedious:
Just such as Country Parsons make,
The people, few or none awake.
Fear God, he cryes; 'twas very well:
But to what purpose said in Hell?
There to make Sermons so Divine,
Was but to cast Pearl before Swine.
See here, quo he,—what is the matter?
A man that would ha's—his Daughter:
97
Let him be hang'd; that's a plain case.
The Lapithæ I'ad quite forgot,
Yet they lye there too piping hot:
These were a sort of bold Horse-riders,
That hated Centaurs just like Spiders;
And to say truth, of former times
They were the Guelphs and Ghibellines.
With these, in like predicament,
Ill Neighbours lye, that Freys foment;
Back-biting Gossips, never well
But when they have a tale to tell.
Men that make right to left hand skink,
Drunk by themselves, for love oth' drink.
Litigious Parsons, still in Law
For a few Apples, or Tithe-straw.
All that in Pulpits sow the Seeds
Of tumult, and of broken heads;
Among the rest there lyes in fetters,
The Chief of English Rogues, Hugh Peters,
98
After the Turkish mode, I trow.
Of later times they ty'd his tongue;
For what with Pray'rs and Sermons long,
And Rad'manth's Tyranny to boot,
H'had like to ha' made a heavy rout.
There headless Vane, that ne're did value one
Lyes belching Discord and Rebellion.
Here Harrison doth howling keep,
That Rhadamanth can hardly sleep;
Which grim Judge hearing, sends his bobtails
To comb his tawnie skin with Hob-nails.
There Scot lyes moping, poisonous Weesels
Gnawing his fingers to the gristles;
For taking Sermons with short-hand,
And all the while his P--- would stand.
There Bradshaw lyes, in a Symarr
Of burning Canvass, lin'd with Tarr;
With Quartan Ague wyar-drawn,
As small as tender thread of Lawn:
99
In flaming oyl thick crum'd with Limestone.
See ye another lying there?
Whose flesh a hundred Furies tear
With red-hot Pincers, while the gap
With liquid glass is streight fill'd up.
His limbs thus ordered, by and by
To six wild Horses tails they tye,
Which they, his lashes well remembring,
How rend and tear without dissembling;
[illeg.]or to say truth, there's scarce an hour
[illeg.]ut that they shift his pangs so sowr:
[illeg.]or why, they hold it necessary,
[illeg.]is torments like his crimes to vary.
[illeg.]his is that Devil of a Devil,
Whose Noddle was the Mint of evil,
[illeg.]omwell himself; Gyants, to him
[illeg.]d but like Rats the Gods contemn;
[illeg.], hundred-hearted Briareus,
[illeg.]d murder Jove in his own house:
100
Not far from him, the House call'd Lower
Of late intestine Discord-hatchers,
A race of Saint-appearing Leachers,
Lye buried in the searing flames
Of twenty thousand thousand Reams
Of Ordinances, Votes, and Orders,
Petitions slighted, Bills for Murders,
Huge Volumes of Smectymnuus,
With Civicus, Britannicus,
And Walker's weekly Legend-stories,
Pil'd upon heaps of Directories.
Should I relate the horrid Crimes
All punish'd in these horrid Climes,
'Twould ask ten thousand Gossips tongues,
And twenty thousand Midwives Lungs;
A wind so lasting, to out-puff
Swift Jemmy, or the Croyden Chuff;
Or else to weary thirty score
Long-winded Parsons, and ten more;
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An idle Player's diligence,
A Canons voice, a Scullers note,
And Buy my quartern o' Gudgeons throat.
Sybil with these Hyperbolies
Half tyr'd, quo she, let this suffice
Concerning suffering Criminals;
And now behold those Iron walls
By Sussex Cyclops rear'd so high:
If I can see 'um let me dye,
Quo Hero then; but she replyes,
What must I find ye walls, and eyes?
Come, come, quo she, give me your hand,
Let's hasten to our Journeys end;
Make up your heels, and run a bit,
With head a mile before your wit.
[illeg.]e that in these dark holes of Hell
[illeg.]es his Nose length, sees very well;
[illeg.]t, quoth Æneas, for all that,
[illeg.] wish I had the eyes of Cat,
102
Are but the same, like Jews or Dutch.
With that she leads him a dog-trot,
Holding him by the you know what,
Untill he came to wall so good,
Where pot of Holy-water stood.
Æneas wash'd his beard and eyes:
And then, where's Proserpine? he cryes:
I've for her here a dish of Codlins,
Which I have brought through all the Goblins
But a bold Swiss, with Ale half dizzie,
Told him in plain terms, she was busie;
For she had been all night at Gleek,
And would not rise to every Dick.
The Sybil call'd him sawcy Jack;
But Switzer bid her kiss his nock:
Quo Hero then, 'twas here the God
Commanded me to leave my load;
And here I'le hang it on a tack:
If here it hang when I come back,
103
May e'en go hang for want of Quinces.
This having said, and done his duty
To the great Mauritanian beauty,
They came to the capacious High-lands,
That always look like Summer-Islands;
Trees always green, and full of Cherries,
The Fields all cover'd with Strawberries,
So luscious;—and then for their growth,
Just like Pomewaters on my oath.
Their common bread is Naples-bisket,
And all may have it, that will ask it:
For there be no deceitful Bakers,
Nor no exacting Comfet-makers.
For Children, Sugar-Plums and Cakes
Within their reach grow upon Brakes.
Here no expensive Longing Wives,
Shall Husbands weary out o'their lives;
No this I want, nor this I lack,
Can bring a Merchant here to break;
104
All the year long green Fruit and Pease:
All clad alike, no differences
Of richer Poynts, t'inrage their sences;
No Taylors fancies, night and morning
To spoil their Pray'rs, and cause heart-burning;
Nay I am told, nor can deny it,
As th'only means to keep 'um quiet,
That Gowns as brave as any are,
On ev'ry hedge grow common here.
No Maids for want of Portions tarry,
But being all handsome, quickly marry:
Let 'um eat Chalk, or Cinders here,
'Tis all so good, they're as they were.
Then what need Prentice rob his Master!
Lad—do but ask here, and thou hast her.
Men never purchase Honours here,
Nor need to lace their Names with Sir;
Not an Attorney to be seen,
Neither the Temples, nor Grays-Inne:
105
With Sermons steep'd in Opium:
No Rhumes the Lungs of men invade,
Requiring Pierce, or Buckworth's aid:
No plaister'd Posts, nor boasting Quacks,
To set your bodies upon racks:
No 'strologers with Schems and Tables,
And heav'nly Popes-head-alley baubles:
No Vintner here his Wine debaushes
With rotten Eggs, and thick Molosses.
Their Hedges here are Rosemary
And Lawrel-trees, that never dye;
Their Bowrs are sweetest Eglantine,
Or else the always-cluster'd Vine.
And in the Dog-dayes, truth to tell,
They bath in streams of Muscadell.
On backs or bellies all can swimm,
And dive when e're it pleases them:
And if their appetites be sharp,
Put but their hands down, there's stew'd Carp;
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(For longer ne're they need to tarry)
Whole shoals of Salmons ready drest,
With Trout and Perch streight make a feast
If Fowl they want, with Bird-calls streight
(For Nets are out of fashion quite)
Down come the ready roasted Quails,
Pheasant and Partridge, Ducks and Teals.
The Bustards shie, their service offer,
Together with the wary Plover.
What pleasure they on Earth affected,
Here they may take it, uncorrected,
According to their several fancies;
They that love reading, read Romances:
They that love wrastling on the Grass,
Give Girl Green-gown, then clap her Arse;
While others on the Ruddie Sand,
With Manlier innocence contend.
Some read the Queen of Navarrs Novels,
While others are for Masques and Revels:
107
(Not stollen from their Mistress Closets)
With Damson Tarts, and clouted Cream,
While mirth advances wanton Theam:
And then to Questions and Commands,
And smutting pretty face and hands.
They that love eating, eat like Midwives;
They that love drinking, drink like Fishwives.
The Hunter hunts, the Bowler bowls,
The Archer shoots, the Droller drols;
The Singer sings Tra nony nony,
They neither pleasure want, nor money:
In brief, they sing, and dance, and laugh,
They sleep, and toy, and feast, and quaff.
Nothing but Gaming is forbid,
Cause loss of money makes men sad.
There Thracian Orpheus, so well known,
In a long painted Indian-Gown,
To his Theorbo's and Guittars,
Sings Lawes's and Ned Colman's Airs.
108
With Chaucer, Carew, Shakespear, Petrarch,
Fletcher and Beaumont, and Menander,
Plautus and Terence, (how I wander?)
Horace, and Cowley with his Mistress;
And d'Amboise now quite free from distress
With Chapman spends his merry days.
Then Shirley brought 'um some new Plays,
And then a while they chew'd the Cud;
Till D'avenant in a gen'rous mood
Brought 'um whole loads of Love and Honor:
For you must know 'tis not the manner
To write new Plays in this same place;
And reason's plain as nose in face:
For why? there be no Malefactors;
Or should they make 'um, there's no Actors:
Yet th'are good reading, 'cause they show
How still, affairs on Earth do go.
Quo Hero, what make Poets here
That us'd on Earth to drink and swear?
109
To grudge 'um thus a resting-place;
Wits so Divine, that never Ilium
By many furlongs yet could fellow 'um:
Therefore though Heav'n may seem too good,
I'm certain Hell is much too bad.
Where would ye have 'um then, Tom Tottie?
Besides, to shew your humour snottie,
Who made these stately Fields I pray?
Who planted all these Groves but they?
And shall you venture to dispose
The sweat and labour of their brows?
Go on, Tom Fool, and view the Gang
From whence your high-born Worship sprang,
Now keeping merrier Christmasses
Then Earth could e're afford 'um: these
Were Ilus and Assaracus,
And Troys first founder Dardanus,
All in lac'd Coats of Scarlet Chamlet;
And with them, Prince of Denmark Hamlet.
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While ye have Rhime, ne're ask the reason.
There sees the Son of Venus bright
Their Spears in ground fix'd bolt upright;
And stately Barbes dispers'd abroad,
Cropping the Flowers that Fields do load;
Embroider'd Saddles to behold,
With Bitts and Stirrups all of Gold.
Here certain Points and Questions nice
About these Horses do arise;
Whether these Horses shit or no,
What scent, and colour, if they do;
Whether each Horse have not a Groom,
With Close-stool to receive perfume:
Or whether it be no disgrace
For Horse to dung Elysian grass.
For which I shall referr ye well
To one, if any one can tell,
I mean the learned Zabarell.
These Horses were for Chariots some,
111
Some only let their horses trott,
Though stronger backs made 'um curvett;
While Mistress looks and much admires
Her warlike Champion in his geers.
There's great St. George, as in the Medal,
With Dragon, fram'd by art of Dedal,
So made, as soon as George comes nigh her,
To spit and sputter Squibs of fire.
St. George he takes a furions course,
The Dragon spits, away flies horse,
Leaving St. George upon the Grass;
The sport of many a pretty Lass.
Poor Sabra ty'd in jeast to tree,
Begins to doubt her Liberty:
But George unhors'd will not give out,
(Which caus'd the Sign, St. George a-foot)
To Dragon then he comes anon,
And with his trusty Blade layes on,
Till all the Squibs being spent and gone,
112
To Sabra then away goes he,
And Garter which ty'd her to Tree,
He streightway tyes above her knee.
The antient men with hairs so white,
Old stories of their youth repeat;
But chiefest tales are of their Wenches,
Paring their nails upon blue Benches.
Hard by the Banks of pleasant Poe,
Which through a neighboring Wood doth flow,
Live such as for their Countries good
Have lost their fortunes, and their blood;
Bold Cato's, such as would not fear
To waken drowsie Princes ear,
Although they made him Treason hear.
In near adjacent Lawrel thickets,
All your great Scholars, blithe as Crickets,
Together live, whose noble parts
First fill'd the World with useful Arts:
With many a midling merry Priest,
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Such as Parishioners lov'd well;
Would tope, yet knew their tales to tell;
That rather took then offer'd wrong,
Moral in heart Divine in tongue.
That ne're couuld flatter to be great,
Contented with a little seat.
Some Cardinals, and Popes a few,
That followed all the light they knew:
Some Monks and Friars, not so furious
To count all but their own Sect spurious
Who though not fit in heaven to dwell,
Are yet too good to live in Hell.
Most true Historians, that with Lie
Ne're strove to blind Posterity.
Quo Hero then, but who are those,
With meager chops and thread bare cloaths?
Those are a sort of Dromedaries,
On Earth yclyped Antiquaries;
Who having all their Earthly Terms
114
Liv'd pity'd here, only they wait
On those that soard a loftier hight;
With their own books of little use,
To wipe the nobler Schollars shooes.
Herodotus though much at ease
Attends upon Thucidides.
Curtius for slandring Alexander,
Is Salust's chief Varlet du Chambre;
And Jovius with his vain Romances,
Thuanus's Amanuensis.
Causinus with his Holy Court.
Thought to have liv'd in better Port;
But Suttle Tydor spoil'd his plots,
For daubing so the Queen of Scots.
And had not Constantine been just
For his Encomiums upon trust,
To make him Page of his back-stairs,
He might have gone and shak'd his ears.
All these of strangers spying brace,
115
Like Bees began to flock about.
At length appears among the rout
Old Grandsire Greybeard, whose upholders
Were a tall Fellows lusty shoulders.
This man that lookt like Knight oth' Shire,
And brought for their Interpreter,
Was hight Musæus, Courtier much,
For your Love writers all are such.
Madam, quo he, whom here d'ye peep for,
Is he a Lodger, or House-keeper?
With Courtesie low, the Witch reply'd,
I search for one, that need not hide
His head for treason, nor for debt;
An Aldermans fellow, if not yet
Himself the Alderman of his Ward;
Anchises is his name, great Bard.
Where is his house, I pray ye now?
Six pence I'le give, for Boy to shew.
Old woman, quo the reverend Bard,
116
We have no house, nor houshold goods,
But Tartar-like, live in the woods.
The Rivers banck is all our bed,
And verdant meads with flowers bespread.
But you, if heart and will agree,
Surmount yon hill, by yonder tree,
Then all along a hedge of Roses
Directly follow your own Noses:
Truly, quoth she, through strange devices
Here are we come to see Anchises;
Not for his chear, nor yet his wine,
Nor for his Apricocks so fine,
But for to know what wo or joy
Great Fate intends his only Boy,
Who having soft place in his pole,
Craves wit from Fathers Jobbernole,
Then quo Musæus on my word,
If so you please I le make a third
To lead ye, where in Saffron Frock
115
To Poet Rampant Hero said,
I take ye at your word, be dad;
And so all three together pace it;
First Poet ask'd what says the Gazet;
For he was much for Novelties;
Æneas told him twenty lies;
And when he wanted, pumpt for new,
Which Sybil all averr'd for true.
While Hero thus did Poet dril,
At length they reach the top of Hill;
The prospect that it shew'd the eye
Through a serene unclouded Skie,
[illeg.]o large and full of spicie wealth,
[illeg.]Is made Æneas bless himself;
Then Quoth Musæus, there's your way,
These are the bounds I must obey.
Quo Hero then, I oft have seen
[illeg.] place like this, on Earth, an Inn,
[illeg.] such were here we would not part
118
Musæus gone they stare about
To try what staring could find out:
At length as far as eye could see
They saw Anchises by a tree;
For soon they find him by the sight
Of locks so long and eke so white.
He there was making muster-roles
Of several troops of new coyn'd Soules;
That the next post were to be sent
Each one to their Apartiment.
Some he design'd for Earls and Lords,
Some to be stifled streight in T---
Some to be Leaders of great Armies,
And some for Lazarill's de Tormes;
He bookt their several Fates and ends,
With silver pen and fingers ends;
First teaching them their several Lessons,
On Earth to manage their Professions.
As soon as he beheld his Son,
119
And both his Arms a kimbo plac't,
Quo he, Long look't for's come at last.
With that his voice dropt from his teeth,
And tears rode post to beard beneath:
Recovering speech, ah, my Dear Son,
That has so many Risco's run,
Alas I ne're had hope to see thee.
But that I well knew who was wi'thee;
Thy good old Friend Dissimulation,
And pious shew of feign'd Devotion.
Well fare a Father, such as me;
Was ever Son bred up like thee?
I've taught thee first to cheat the Devils,
What next will Mortals be but trifles?
I knew, if thou wert wise and wary,
That my advice could ne're miscarry;
Though not so sure, Son, understand,
As now I have thee in my hand.
I fear'd lest with a Carthage Bitch,
120
At that same time a hundred times
I curs'd thee in good prose not rhimes;
Pox take my Son, Son of a whore,
Pardon the expression I implore.
Thou know'st 'tis given t'our Family
Sometimes to curse as well as cry.
Then come my Son, thy Dad embrace;
Come kiss the middle of my face.
Lets weep together for a wager;
Anchises cheeks that were so meager,
Like Fish-ponds streight did over-flow;
Æneas seeing him do so,
Wept on till he could weep no more;
That had it been a planked floor,
Th'had both stood anckle deep in tears.
Oh, quoth Æneas, tearing hairs,
Oh how I joy to see those chops,
The lovely cause of all these drops!
His cheeks, who from my small infancy,
121
Not like a surly Pedagogue,
Whipping me like a Bridewel rogue,
But taught me more then verbs and nouns.
With words more sweet then Mackaroones;
What act of valour have I done,
In passing Styx or Acheron?
A Coward arm'd with duty would
Have forc'd, where I but brib'd the flood;
'Twas duty brought me here, dear Father,
And rather than have fail'd I had rather
Hell had fall'n down upon my pate.
And squeez'd me like a Pancake flat,
But as I am your Son and Friend,
I pray dispatch me out of hand.
My Navy lies at six and sevens
The Souldiers hungry all as Ravens,
And dare not stir a foot for vittles,
For fear of cut-throat Latine Spittles;
And if I don't return with speed
122
Methinks I hear 'um curse already,
Without respect to Mam or Daddy,
Calling me Bastard, you great Fool;
This said, with beard like any pool,
Three times he strove to embrace Anchises,
And every time, that's thrice, he misses,
Hands off, quo he, as sowre as verjuice,
I'm but a shadow at thy service,
In vain thou thinkst thy Dad to dandle;
For ther's no man can shadows handle.
Hero confus'd at this rebuke,
For grief at first was like to puke,
But presently took heart a grace,
Quo he, Dear Father, what you please.
Down in a Valley's bottom stood
Fann'd by the wind, a mighty wood;
Hard by whose placid Mansion's ran
A River, that will make a man
Take but a Sup, I know not how,
123
'Tis all a perfect Aqua vite,
But forty thousand times more mighty.
About it stood a vengeance press
Of people more than numberless.
Have ye e're seen a swarm of Bees
In a wild field of blossom'd Pease,
Some sucking flow'rs, some on the wing,
While all at busie labour sing?
Just so about Lethean floud,
Those Souls in Sea-sand numbers stood,
They that but drunk a brandy cup,
Their heads fell down, their heels flew up;
Their memory lost, like drunken Sots,
Not to be mov'd out of Cart-ruts.
And yet so eager was their thirst,
That each one strove who should drink first;
At Tunbridge such their crowding is,
For water for to make ye piss.
Æneas in a peck of troubles
124
Anchises, who was in his life,
As suttle as a Cuckolds wife,
His meaning by his mumping knew:
Quoth he the Souls that there you view,
Are Souls whom Fate, to Plato kind,
With other bodies doth befriend.
Rather then one so much her Minion
Should lose the crack of his opinion.
And therefore here, o're head and ears
They cleanse their Tripes from all the cares
Which they in former bodies had,
And all the pranks, that then they play'd,
That so all former crimes forgot,
Like Souls new vampt, sans stain or blot,
They may return to second Lot,
May 't please your Grace with all submission
These Souls are Souls of no discretion;
Or else bewitch'd with mortal day,
To leave so near to heav'n the way,
125
That nothing else indeed brings forth,
It is a vain stupidity,
Or else, Dear Father, is't a lie?
To question of ungracious Child,
Anchises shew'd himself more mild.
Quoth he, ye simple Doterel,
Speak like a Clerk or not at all;
But you profound Terrestrians
Believe that all your Geese are Swans.
When all your babling idle Stories
Are but the talk of Pothecaries.
Hero abashed at Fathers taunting,
Pull'd in his horns without more vaunting.
Then like an Orator, Anchises;
Suttly unfolded strange devices;
Quo he, Dame Nature is a woman;
That breeds beholding unto no man:
From womb of this Hermophradite
Did all these children come to light,
126
The Woods and Ocean, and so forth;
Now Nature, that gives such to all,
And feeds the Universal Ball,
To speak, like Virtuoso, smartly
Is tot in tot, & tot in qualibet parte.
And Man is but a Lanthorn bright,
Where Natures candle giveth light,
This candle thus in Lanthorn put,
Sometimes shines clear, and sometimes not:
If Lanthorns horns be clear and thin,
Then candle is more plainly seen;
But if the Lanthorns horns be thick,
This candle then burns not so quick.
When candle burns with a quick fire,
From thence comes joy and brisk desire.
But when it burns a t'other fashion,
Thence grief, and fear, and other passion;
But when this candle quite goes out,
Then Life extinguishes to boot.
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In Lanthorn shut grows thick and foul,
With it's own soot and filthy steem,
But being wash'd in Brimstone stream,
And sok'd a thousand years in sulphur,
All the while scalding for Soules welfare,
At length it gains its orient lustre;
Then after such a tedious cluster
Of thick tormenting fryings, boilings;
Fierce scaldings, rostings, gridlings, broilings
All in good time they are admitted
To take their ease being thus refitted,
In these Elysian Fields; much more
To their contentment, then before.
To perfect all, here they come down,
And all their former sorrows drown;
Lose memory of death and hell,
As sound again, as fish or bell.
So after qualmes men drink Strong-water
And pains forget in short while after:
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Then quo the Son of Venus bright,
Now let me hang up for a sign,
If from the sixth or seventh line,
(Or if you please to call it verse)
I understand more then a horse.
The rest were Behmens Theologica,
Or Anthrosopophia Magica.
Either my Father speaks obscure,
Or I am a damn'd Dunce, that's sure
Quo he, what matters that, ye Kitling,
If you don't know then leave your twatling;
I thought to have made a learned Speech,
And shewn your learning to your Witch,
By reparty's of Approbation;
And you to talk besides the Cushion!
Now what d'ye think, she'l make report on?
But that your breeding was Hogs-Norton.
As thus Anchises still walk'd on,
Maundring and jeering at his Son,
129
Wrapt in the middle of the croud,
Of them that drank and went away.
Ne're calling what there was to pay.
There on a hillock sate Anchises,
Like Pedogogue that buttock slices;
There as he sate upon a hillock,
Now son, quo he, of bad and ill luck
I'le tell thee all that shall be fall thee,
Now then, as if I were to maul the,
With ferula, hold forth thy hand:
For Palmistry is my great freind,
But ere I look upon thy hand
By Venus mount to understand,
Cast your sheep's eyes on yonder lad
In coat of yellow flannel clad,
Mounted upon a Hobby horse,
That Youth, to shorten my discourse,
Is thy own Son, whom thou shalt get
With so much fury, so much sweat,
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From whom, as branches from a tree,
Shall spring Albanian Progenie.
His mother being shepheards daughter
Shall call him Silvius, who soon after
His guts with melons over loading
Shall quickly give the Crow a pudding.
There's Capys Vex him, and he'l slap ye,
Brim-full of metal, but unhappy.
He both a Coyner and a theife
At Tyborn young, shall end his life.
Behold next him the Valiant Procas
At cards and dice a very Hocus,
But some body shall spoil his marriage,
By putting rats bane in His porridge.
And there stout Numitor behold
Who shall be worth his weight in Gold.
Next him another doubtie Wight
Brave Silvius Æneas hight,
He, a true chip of the old block,
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As horse in Cart, with gentle pace,
One goes and t'other takes his place,
So shall this team of Kings in Course
Succeed to thee their grand forehorse.
All from thy Codpeice, in a row,
Coming a chicken a traintrow;
And though somewhat to mothers pains,
They shall be born with Crowns and Chains.
They shall build townes and Cities many
Nomentum and the faire Fidene
Drawing to them a Crew of rogues
With Cumin seed and roasted doggs.
Twas easie then to people Town,
E're men were tamely ty'd to one,
Constrain'd to plow where need's no plowing,
And sow where crop's already growing.
There cut and dry'd a soul remains
Listing a tipto twixt the scenes;
When Fate and time will call her forth
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He certainly shall be no fool,
Bred up in learned Vaulting School;
Begot by Mars under a hedge;
His life shall be a strange hodge podge
Of very good and very ill,
He shall build Rome and 's Brother kill,
Behold how in his cap he wears
Two Capons tailes, by Father Mars,
As th'Emblems of distinction giv'n;
To man so much belov'd of heav'n.
This whimsical King descended thus
By Mother from Assaracus,
Brave Trojan he, (and now dear Brat,
I hope thou 'gin'st to smell a Rat,)
Shall wall in Rome, the worlds great wonder,
Twice well preserv'd by Geese and Thunder;
Destin'd to Empire Sea and Land,
And when she can no more command
The outward body, shall controul
133
To this great Luck shall much conduce,
Th'engendring tool of Romulus;
So numerous shall be the Race
Proceeding from his pissing-place.
Like Berecinthia in the Fable,
As formal and as venerable,
As Laons Byshop, or Prelate
Pretending to a Cardinals hat.
Have you e're seen, or if you e're did.
For my part, I am sure I ne're did,
How proudly through the Phrygian Streets,
Her Flanders-Lyon teem curvets?
While she with Steeple-crowned hat,
In Cart, on sack of beanshels, sate,?
With wither'd arms a Kimbo plac't
On fardingale of aged waste?
And all to shew how good sh'had bin,
In her young dayes at in and In
The mother of a hundred brothers,
144
Oh Happy Pair, had long taile-Roman
Met Calve skin Breech of Phrygian woman:
From his great haunches shall proceed
The Brave Iulus conquering seed;
Not flatter'd Cæsar, we defie him,
Let Virgil praise him that got by him:
For though men flatter living Princes;
They flatter dead, that want their senses.
Wer't not in drollery, we knew how,
But there's no subject for us Now.
Well quo Anchises wee will put
In Cæsars Rome Great Bajazet:
Or if his Name be Amurath,
It matters not a Tilers lath,
He lives: and now I think on't, boy,
Lives either in, or close to Troy.
Or rather Constantine the Great,
Who first advanc'd the Papal Seat.
For though the man be in deaths bowre,
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He though no Trojan, born how e're
Where race of Trojans seated were,
Restor'd to Rome the golden Ages,
Enriching Popes, then poor as Pages
But hey—my boy, I have him now;
Lyes closer layd the better show:
With my soules eyes methinks I see
Great Antichrist, chief of the Three,
He, whore, or whores bird chuse you whether,
Some say he's both, some say he's neither,
Romes Power shall far and near extend
Indus and Garamas beyond,
The Caspian Seas, Mæotis Lake
Dread the fierce noise his bulls there make.
There is a land, beyond the starrs
Without the reach of Sun, or Years;
That's where we are, in Purgatory,
So great is here the Powerful hurrie
Of this Ecclesiastick Cæsar
136
For ev'ry one here ev'ry minute
For his Church musick pays him tribute.
Never Alcides with his Club,
That great Terestriall Belzebub,
Although the wind pipe once he split
Of monstrous Hart with brazen feet;
Though out of Arsehole once he tore
The Guts of Erymanthian Boar,
Or though he peirc'd with fatal arrow
Lernean Dragons back-bone marrow,
So many Earthly Gods or Princes
Orecame with his soul nipping pinches;
Great Bacchus force, who thick as hopps
Drove Tygars down from Nysa's tops,
And then made such a stir in Ægypt
To his great Power was but a flea-bit.
He that lookes there so like a bard,
With Cap like yeo-man of the Guard,
Is Numa hight, first Roman He
137
He seeing all his Roman Brethren
To be a crew of perfect Heathen:
Reform, quo he, reform ye Varlets,
I'le find ye Laws, and Bowdie Scarlets.
And for your duty to the Gods,
I'le help ye too out of the sudds.
And then shall he, half King half Muftie,
Compile Religion, ruftie, tuftie:
Of prettie fables thirty pound
In sweet Natales Comes found:
Of formes a handful for varietie,
Pict from old Practices of Pietie.
Five ounces of th'Assemblies Catechisme,
With twenty Drams of Fox-Phanaticisme.
Of prayers a bagful from Trithemius,
For other things not so abstemius
But he can pick up Ceremony
As bees from any weeds get hony.
You'd swear that for his Flamin Rabble
138
Socinus, Arrius, and Pelagius,
Luther and Calvin, Simon Magus,
Behmen and Sedgwick, Nye and Sterry;
(What think ye of his Consistory)
Each one of these shall add a Whimsey
To hodge podge up religious frenzy.
Tullus succeeds not halfe so Antick
But he shall fight as he were frantick
And next to him old father Ancus
Who for remembring him may thank us,
Just such another Thunder—bones
As Warwick Guy, or Captain Jones.
See Tarquin here, that son of a punck
As lecherous as an Old Monk,
By him stands Brute that made him pay
So deadly dear for his horse-play,
Quo he Kings are imperious Asses,
Let Consuls now usurp the Fasces.
He fatal axe, first Roman Consul,
139
Though too severe to kill the Ladds,
That might ha' whipt 'em with his Rods
He with his beard like Roman T,
Torquatus in due time shall be
There goes Camillus; that man's safe
That ne're comes near his quarter staffe.
There be the Drusi and the Curii,
Never provoke 'em, I Conjure ye.
Those two ye see look one at to'ther,
Just 'as if one would eat the other.
What are they pray Sir? why the one
Son's father, t'other fathers son.
Here freinds, they neither brawle nor fight
Bound with the ponderous chains of Night,
But when they come to have their swinge,
O heavens! I tremble at the change.
Upon a Plain, what Plain no matter,
What havock shall they make, what slaughter?
While Son to murder father seeks,
140
Ungracious birds for olive Branch,
To ransack thus your Countrys Paunch:
Upon the Hills of Monaco
How Eccho swore (for well you know,
She stil must do what others do,
So while they swore she must swear too
When Son was hunting fathers Mansion
To ask him blessing with his trunchion.
Anough anough, well boxt, well boxt
Put up your whinyards and be poxt;
Twere better on my reputation,
To put your strife to arbitration;
Where shoulder a mutton and a Capon.
Shall terminate the rage of weapon:
There with a wart upon his Toy,
Stands, He that Corinth shall destroy.
That other of Achilles tomb,
Shall make a seat for naked Bumm;
Where after ages shall shitt custard,
141
A hogstie shall he make of Argos,
First having ravish'd all their Virgo's,
Where Agamemnon layd his Psyche,
There shall he lay a T--- an't like ye,
Ore Conquer'd Greece demanding reason,
For Ilium destroy'd by treason.
Ther's Cato an ill-natur'd Droll,
With second Amadis de gaul
Grim Cossus: There on Gracchus look ye,
Just such another Clown as Okey:
The Scipio's both, all tow and tinder,
That flying men's houses out at windor.
Next him with breath so strong of garlick,
Appears Fabricius the warlick:
Old Fabius, sir nam'd wink-and shite,
Who never bark't till he could bite.
Besides a thousand more at least,
Quos nunc perscribere longum est:
All sprung from loyns of mine or yours,
719
The rest are Souls of other men,
Neither to me nor you a kin.
In th'Art of Physick some excelling,
For reading some, and some for spelling;
Some in the Law for drawing Leases,
And some for painting Chimney-pieces.
Some to write Hist'ries, some Romances;
Some to dress fish, some to fry tansies.
Some to peele Walnuts, some for marriage;
Some to make Alexander porridge.
Anchises here began to pause;
For he had tir'd his aged jaws.
But soon refresh'd with Aqua vitæ,
He thus resum'd his idle ditty.
See there Marcellus with a pack
Of Punic trophies at his back:
Lac'd scarlet breeches, new buffe coats,
Portmantles full of Harry groates;
With silver spurs, embroidered hats,
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Which they that bought of Linnen-draper,
Ne're meant for such a Whipper-snapper.
He, though a Logger-headed Booby,
Shall firk Great Hannibals blind Toby,
And Gauls, as big as Gyants, cut
As small as Pot-herbs to the Pot.
While thus Anchises talkt of Twanker,
Æneas spies a sweet-fac't Younker;
The prettiest Moppet, Heav'ns to bless it,
As ever Nurses Lap bepissed.
With Drum and Spear of guilded Lattin,
And forty knots on Bonnet Sattin.
Quoth Venus Son, what dandling Elf
Is that so like my pretty self,
When first my breeches I befritter'd,
Or in plain English first besquitter'd,
With ruddy Cheeks, like a Queen-apple,
Though sorrow clouds his face of Maple?
What ails the pretty Child to whimper,
Is it Narcisus or Adonis?
What means that croud of blubring Tonis?
With Sarsnet scarfs so cleanly drest,
Holding up pall of Mortuus est:
Anchsies then, dear darling brat,
Why should'st thou wake a sleeping Cat?
Why should I tel ye tale of tubbs,
To make ye have the Muligrubs.
That stripling nere to be forgotten,
Like Cattern Pear, soon ripe soon rotten;
Is one that Fate shall only deigne,
To shew and take away againe:
A jewel sure if any thing,
For why? he was the Devils gold r'ng.
First give a thing and take a thing.
Had he but liv'd and had his health,
H'had been I know not what my self:
But falling down so falling star-like,
So dy'd their hopes with poor Peel-garlick
176
Seeing their fat now in the fire:
Had he not reason then to look,
Like boy, that's kept too long at's book,
Or puppie that has stole a pudding,
For by his death he lost a wedding;
Quo Son of great Anchises, Hoy-da
Here's a long tale of shitten arse boy-da,
I wonder, by my Mother Venus,
You should be such a Nicodemus:
To keep me here with twittle twattles,
In praise of Hobby horse and rattles.
Quo Father 'twas our zeal that thrust us,
To praise th'adopted of Augustus;
Quo Son, then good-man head of beetles
It seems y'are only Virgils wheedles:
Son Quo Achises, Poets who are
Most comonly like stead Rats poor
Shame on the age that lets'em live,
Only on what your great men give;
130
They nipp your bungs for coyn, with verses.
Forc'd with illustrious prattle prittle
To praise great things though ne're so little:
This said, Anchises bows his face,
As Country Vicar bow's to's Grace.
So after speech all crum'd with knowledge
To King Scrapes Master of a Colledge;
Æneas bred among the Gods,
Return'd him twenty A-la-modes:
While Sybil that had liv'd at Hackney,
With Mid-wife-Dopps had broke her back nigh.
Then quo Anchises give me now,
My Darling dear, thy hand of sow:
I'le open all thy good or bad-luck,
With key of Chiromancy padlock:
Then Paw stretch'd out, quo cunning Gipsie,
In mount of S[illeg.]l, a C my sheeps eye,
Gravely discerns, Son, thou shalt feel,
Much hurt by iron or by steel.
129
Ah Son, woe worth thee now for me,
These C's these C's take heed my Son,
These C's has many a man undone.
For in this mount a C denotes,
The Love of Common Petticotes:
Thy Lines of handwrist red and pure,
Toward Mount Luna signe are sure.
Of Great success in martial sports,
[illeg.]cleped winning female forts.
Now seeing signes that gave him trouble,
Quo Son, good Sir why shake you noddle?
Quo he each cross that here appears,
Is each a drunken fall down stairs:
The signe of Gridiron on this place,
Shews you shall lose your very Arse.
But man is fraile therefore I charge ye
As soon as ye get home to purge ye:
Then on a Saturday at night,
At ten a clock the Angel hight,
131
Will teach thee how to cogg thy dice.
And every Thursday at nine a clock,
The spirit Camael in'voake:
He's Major General of a Legion,
Towards the Southern fiery Region
And (as say Sons of Mecubal)
A sort of Rascalls Mystical,
Rules figures of the Airie Trigon,
Mark, my dear Son, for I am high flown
Which to say truth shew in a word,
Success both of thy tool and Sword;
Conjunctio Puer, Lætus Albus,
Puella Populus ferrum Balbus.
Conjunction, Boys, mirth, silver white,
Make Girls and men, scare Turnus quite.
Now Demagogue of Trojan Nation,
A way-bit use of Exhortation:
Is it so then that thou my Son
Ar't like to be Romes Corner-stone,
151
Must flow what ere my speech doth contains
Then thou like Surgeon rule thy people,
Cut of proud flesh, but spare the feeble.
That all thy actions may run bias,
Be sure hold fast the name of Pius:
They that foundations lay of Empire,
As well as swear must sometimes whimper
Thy Ancestors examples cherish,
Chief men of worship in their Parish:
Though they were Cuckolds what of that,
'Tis many an honest mans hard fate.
Neglect not business for thy pleasure,
But game and wench when thou hast leisure
But above all (observe a block-head)
My Son keep money in thy Pocket.
For that will make thy people Sing,
God prosper long our Noble King.
Thus Sermon ended, they depart,
But here behold a Poets art;
138
But how to get'em out agen.
Hang him that has no shifts; you'l say,
Hang Virgil then, but I say nay;
For he has got a shift or twain,
Two gates there be that appertain
To sleep, quo he, the one of horn,
(Salmacius say's by Cuckolds worne)
Through wch false dreams pass in great numbers,
To trouble Coxcombs idle slumbers.
Through t'other made of shining ivory,
Those issue forth that wear truths livery;
Through one of the back doors of Hell,
I mean the latter, Virgil well:
As maid at night lets sweet-heart forth,
Sends back his Champion up to earth,
For my part I beleeve him rather,
Then contradict so grave an Author.
Though captious critic hence would swear,
'Twas all a dream that went before,
121
Like man from Counter set at large:
Nere look't behind but nimbly trips,
To visit Rake-shames and their ships.
When they beheld his orient chapps,
They hollow'd and flung up their caps:
But he cry'd, peace ye cursed dunder-heads
Have I left one hell, to find hundreds.
To Sybel then for all her trouble,
Most like a Prince he gave Rose-Noble:
Then seeing all things in good order,
Did as i'th' next book you'l hear farther.
FINIS.
| Maronides | |