The Renegado Whip't A Satyre in answer to A---n's Lybel On the Author of the Essay on Marriage [by Forbes of Disblair] |
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 | The Renegado Whip't |  |
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THE Renegado Whip't, &c.
If his abused Case Revenge does crave,
Who, unprovok'd, is lybell'd by a Knave;
None will deny me Reason here, I hope,
To Stigmatize this Rogue, and post him up,
That he may dread the Vengance of my Pen,
And rather chuse to Hang then Write agen;
Tho' for a just Reprisal here I cou'd,
Instead of Ink, demand the Rascal's Blood;
Drive out thy hated Soul with Scorn and Shame,
To Expiat the Murther of my Fame,
Which, spite of all the Satyr thou can'st bring,
Shall, Phœnix-like, from its own Ashes spring;
It shall again Triumphantly arise,
And baffle all thy Forgeries and Lies.
Who, unprovok'd, is lybell'd by a Knave;
None will deny me Reason here, I hope,
To Stigmatize this Rogue, and post him up,
That he may dread the Vengance of my Pen,
And rather chuse to Hang then Write agen;
Tho' for a just Reprisal here I cou'd,
Instead of Ink, demand the Rascal's Blood;
Drive out thy hated Soul with Scorn and Shame,
To Expiat the Murther of my Fame,
Which, spite of all the Satyr thou can'st bring,
Shall, Phœnix-like, from its own Ashes spring;
It shall again Triumphantly arise,
And baffle all thy Forgeries and Lies.
THOU basest Rogue, whom Heaven did sure ordain
To all true Worth, the very Foil and Stain:
For grossest Crimes thou hast thy Country fled,
Such Treason and Sedition there has spread,
That thou to save thy Neck art hither come,
The Spew and Vomit of the Goals at home:
By Men of Worth, Detested, Loath'd and Scorn'd,
To surly W---s a Pensioner thou'rt turn'd:
The Scoundrel when they Bid, does Scold and Rail,
And vents his Splen that he may Spoung a Meal:
Careless what Broyls and Mischiefs he creat,
He needs must be, who only Writes to Eat:
So this poor Slave to purchase Half-a-Crown,
Wou'd all his Kin, nay Heaven it self Lampoon.
To all true Worth, the very Foil and Stain:
For grossest Crimes thou hast thy Country fled,
Such Treason and Sedition there has spread,
That thou to save thy Neck art hither come,
The Spew and Vomit of the Goals at home:
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To surly W---s a Pensioner thou'rt turn'd:
The Scoundrel when they Bid, does Scold and Rail,
And vents his Splen that he may Spoung a Meal:
Careless what Broyls and Mischiefs he creat,
He needs must be, who only Writes to Eat:
So this poor Slave to purchase Half-a-Crown,
Wou'd all his Kin, nay Heaven it self Lampoon.
THE Devil gave thee for a Hakney Muse,
Some Hag-rid Witch or Punck that's dropt from Stews:
Or cou'd'st thou have against me thus Unknown,
Such causless Spite and nasty Venom thrown?
But to instruct thy hot and frantick Brains,
A lusty Cudgel were the surest Means:
Let Mercury in human Form appear,
And beat thy Foolish Cranium into Air,
Rather than naughty Sense, let none be there.
Some Hag-rid Witch or Punck that's dropt from Stews:
Or cou'd'st thou have against me thus Unknown,
Such causless Spite and nasty Venom thrown?
But to instruct thy hot and frantick Brains,
A lusty Cudgel were the surest Means:
Let Mercury in human Form appear,
And beat thy Foolish Cranium into Air,
Rather than naughty Sense, let none be there.
STRANGE Impudence! that this pretending Fop
Shou'd for a Wit and Moralist set up,
Whose chiefest Talents and Ingredients ly
In Nonsense, Dogrel and Tautology,
Rebellion, Treason, and Hypocrisy.
Yet fraught with such base Lumber, this vain Ass
Must Censures on my Verse and Manners pass:
The first's out of thy Reach, they've stood the Test
Of Men of Sense, and those who judge the Best:
And since they have arriv'd to that Degree,
Sure they cou'd ne're be Understood by thee:
And for the last, who can secure his Fame
Against a Villain's Tongue that's void of Shame,
Thy Fustian Rimes, and Excrement of Wit,
Smell rank of Monkey when he's new beshit;
Yet for such Rimes, how hardly do'st thou strain,
And O what Throws they cost thy Clumsie Brain.
Then to summ up the Matter in a Word,
Thou art a Satyrist not worth a T---rd,
But for a finisht Rebel, we must own
It's hard to find thy Parallel in Town.
Shou'd for a Wit and Moralist set up,
Whose chiefest Talents and Ingredients ly
In Nonsense, Dogrel and Tautology,
Rebellion, Treason, and Hypocrisy.
Yet fraught with such base Lumber, this vain Ass
Must Censures on my Verse and Manners pass:
The first's out of thy Reach, they've stood the Test
Of Men of Sense, and those who judge the Best:
And since they have arriv'd to that Degree,
Sure they cou'd ne're be Understood by thee:
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Against a Villain's Tongue that's void of Shame,
Thy Fustian Rimes, and Excrement of Wit,
Smell rank of Monkey when he's new beshit;
Yet for such Rimes, how hardly do'st thou strain,
And O what Throws they cost thy Clumsie Brain.
Then to summ up the Matter in a Word,
Thou art a Satyrist not worth a T---rd,
But for a finisht Rebel, we must own
It's hard to find thy Parallel in Town.
AVOID thee, Newgate Rogue, whose very Face
Proclaims him Villain, branded with Disgrace,
And Whip him thro' the Town with Scorn and Hate:
The Rogue portends some Treason to the State.
From Tyburn but escap't, dar'st thou begin
To Print thy LEGION Paper here again?
Were but thy Power as Rampant as thy Will,
Thou woul'd our land with Blood and Slaughter fill,
Thou wou'd bring down thy Brother Traytors here,
To Massacre and Ravage every where.
Go Renegado, Fire-Brand of the Isle,
And the Unthinking Crew no more Beguile;
For here are Men of Honesty and Sense,
Who dare Chastise thy boundless Insolence;
Tho' Neighbour Rogues to Save thee do Combin,
Dare fairly truss thee for a Gibbit Sign:
None will thy base Seditious Jargon hear,
Who do not mean a Traytor's part to share.
Well may thou boast of thy Ten Thousand Strong,
But it's of Vermine which around thee throng,
But must he here in Villany go on,
Untill he meet the Fate he comes to shun?
No, he must thro' each Clime and Country roam,
Mark'd for a Traitor thro' all Christendom;
Abandon'd, Hopeless, destitute of Aid,
Till he at last turn Musselman for Bread.
Proclaims him Villain, branded with Disgrace,
And Whip him thro' the Town with Scorn and Hate:
The Rogue portends some Treason to the State.
From Tyburn but escap't, dar'st thou begin
To Print thy LEGION Paper here again?
Were but thy Power as Rampant as thy Will,
Thou woul'd our land with Blood and Slaughter fill,
Thou wou'd bring down thy Brother Traytors here,
To Massacre and Ravage every where.
Go Renegado, Fire-Brand of the Isle,
And the Unthinking Crew no more Beguile;
For here are Men of Honesty and Sense,
Who dare Chastise thy boundless Insolence;
Tho' Neighbour Rogues to Save thee do Combin,
Dare fairly truss thee for a Gibbit Sign:
None will thy base Seditious Jargon hear,
Who do not mean a Traytor's part to share.
Well may thou boast of thy Ten Thousand Strong,
But it's of Vermine which around thee throng,
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Untill he meet the Fate he comes to shun?
No, he must thro' each Clime and Country roam,
Mark'd for a Traitor thro' all Christendom;
Abandon'd, Hopeless, destitute of Aid,
Till he at last turn Musselman for Bread.
HOW coud'st thou know, thou silly Tatling Imp,
That I have Wench'd, unless thou'd been the Pimp?
Yet know Impostor, I disdain a Whore,
As much as thou do'st Honesty abhore;
And never thought that Satyr did her wrong,
Whose Tail is Mercenary as thy Tongue.
I of all States still thought that Man's the Best,
Who with a Prudent Virtuous Wife is Blest.
A Wife that's tender of her Husband's Fame,
Will rather chuse to Suffer than to Blame;
Who easily Forgives what is amiss,
And Seals the Pardon with a willing kiss,
Patient, not boistrous, can most Harms endure,
His Name and Reputation to secure:
His just Commands still anxious to observe;
For Women were ordain'd by Heaven to Serve;
Who wou'd not Live and Die with such a Wife,
And for her Safety freely stake his Life?
But ah, alas! on this unhappy Ground,
Such Birds of Paradice are rarely found.
If I a Married State did e're upbraid,
There was but too much Cause for what I said;
The Law was stretch'd, the best Defences cast,
Nothing was prov'd, and yet the Sentence past.
But like a Recreant Cully as thou art,
Since thou assum'st a Barbarous Woman's Part,
Tho' manag'd with no Conduct and no Art;
May'st thou be yoak'd with such a Wife as she,
Yea with a worse, if any such there be:
May'st thou be plagu'd, thy Kin both Branch and Root
With Jealousie, and Cuckoldoom to boot;
And may you never boast of other Spawn,
Than what from Porters, Grooms, or Stews are drawn.
May constant Broils attend thy wretched days,
And may'st thou ne're so much as taste of Ease:
May she before thy Eyes thy Goods distrain,
And thou not dare so much as to Complain,
While at thy Pate she shakes a swinging Cane.
Speak but one Word, insues a box o'th' Ear,
While the poor Wife-rid Cully slinks for Fear:
A Mornings when thy Scolding Bout thou'st got,
A well drub'd Carcase be thy Evenings lot:
May she diffieze thee of thy whole Estate,
Begger and Pox thee at that Cursed Rate,
Till thou have neither Bread nor Teeth to Eat.
Yet from the Jade may'st thou ne're be Divorc'd
But to the Plaguy Shrew still Chain'd and Curs'd:
Curs'd, till with outmost Rage thou hast envi'd
The fearful Doom of Roman Paricide;
And wish thy self quite strip'd with ne're a Rag,
Sow'd up with Snake and Monkey in a Bag.
May she to vindicat her Innocence,
Compell thee still to write in her Defence,
With little Success, and as little Sense.
And for a just Reward of all thy pains,
May she at last beat out thy Wretched Brains:
Then at this desperat period of thy Life,
Thou'lt justifie my Quarrel with a Wife.
And as thou Liv'd of Roguery not asham'd,
So harden'd may thou Die, and then be Damn'd.
That I have Wench'd, unless thou'd been the Pimp?
Yet know Impostor, I disdain a Whore,
As much as thou do'st Honesty abhore;
And never thought that Satyr did her wrong,
Whose Tail is Mercenary as thy Tongue.
I of all States still thought that Man's the Best,
Who with a Prudent Virtuous Wife is Blest.
A Wife that's tender of her Husband's Fame,
Will rather chuse to Suffer than to Blame;
Who easily Forgives what is amiss,
And Seals the Pardon with a willing kiss,
Patient, not boistrous, can most Harms endure,
His Name and Reputation to secure:
His just Commands still anxious to observe;
For Women were ordain'd by Heaven to Serve;
Who wou'd not Live and Die with such a Wife,
And for her Safety freely stake his Life?
But ah, alas! on this unhappy Ground,
Such Birds of Paradice are rarely found.
If I a Married State did e're upbraid,
There was but too much Cause for what I said;
The Law was stretch'd, the best Defences cast,
Nothing was prov'd, and yet the Sentence past.
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Since thou assum'st a Barbarous Woman's Part,
Tho' manag'd with no Conduct and no Art;
May'st thou be yoak'd with such a Wife as she,
Yea with a worse, if any such there be:
May'st thou be plagu'd, thy Kin both Branch and Root
With Jealousie, and Cuckoldoom to boot;
And may you never boast of other Spawn,
Than what from Porters, Grooms, or Stews are drawn.
May constant Broils attend thy wretched days,
And may'st thou ne're so much as taste of Ease:
May she before thy Eyes thy Goods distrain,
And thou not dare so much as to Complain,
While at thy Pate she shakes a swinging Cane.
Speak but one Word, insues a box o'th' Ear,
While the poor Wife-rid Cully slinks for Fear:
A Mornings when thy Scolding Bout thou'st got,
A well drub'd Carcase be thy Evenings lot:
May she diffieze thee of thy whole Estate,
Begger and Pox thee at that Cursed Rate,
Till thou have neither Bread nor Teeth to Eat.
Yet from the Jade may'st thou ne're be Divorc'd
But to the Plaguy Shrew still Chain'd and Curs'd:
Curs'd, till with outmost Rage thou hast envi'd
The fearful Doom of Roman Paricide;
And wish thy self quite strip'd with ne're a Rag,
Sow'd up with Snake and Monkey in a Bag.
May she to vindicat her Innocence,
Compell thee still to write in her Defence,
With little Success, and as little Sense.
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May she at last beat out thy Wretched Brains:
Then at this desperat period of thy Life,
Thou'lt justifie my Quarrel with a Wife.
And as thou Liv'd of Roguery not asham'd,
So harden'd may thou Die, and then be Damn'd.
FINIS.
| The Renegado Whip't | |