 | A New-Years Gift for the Renegado And Hansel to his Whiper |  |
New-Years Gift FOR THE RENEGADO And HANSEL to his WHIPER.
------Dux Fœmina facti:
Qui Bavium non odit amet tua carmina Mœvi,
Atque idem jung at vulpes & mulgeat hircos.
Virg. The Quarrel is 'mong Authors of base Lines,
Shame fall. the Winner, shame fall him that Tines.
Qui Bavium non odit amet tua carmina Mœvi,
Atque idem jung at vulpes & mulgeat hircos.
Virg. The Quarrel is 'mong Authors of base Lines,
Shame fall. the Winner, shame fall him that Tines.
Apollo was you in a Lethargie,
So fast asleep, that you inspir'd not me,
Made of the Stuff that's only fit to shew,
What Great things you by little Means can do
Ere now? that I might have reveng'd the wrong,
Unjustly you receiv'd, and I endur'd too long.
So fast asleep, that you inspir'd not me,
Made of the Stuff that's only fit to shew,
What Great things you by little Means can do
Ere now? that I might have reveng'd the wrong,
Unjustly you receiv'd, and I endur'd too long.
SAY Satyr now, for lo he does arise,
Fools to Upbraid, and to Applaud the Wise;
And maketh choise of thee to Carp at Crimes,
Such Fools as you commit in such like Rimes.
Fools to Upbraid, and to Applaud the Wise;
And maketh choise of thee to Carp at Crimes,
Such Fools as you commit in such like Rimes.
WHEN Fortune Fools forsake, (for truely she
Seldom's the Guest of those that W*****rs be)
They raging Curse, the second Cause's that
They falsly wou'd have call'd their cruel Fate.
Some Curse their Planet, some their Country blame,
Some say the Laws are hard, and fain wou'd name
Unjustice done them, tho perhaps what's done
Was Law not Justice; yet the Fault's their own.
Mischances, Fate, and ill dispensed Laws
They boldly plead, tho truely Sin's the Cause.
Seldom's the Guest of those that W*****rs be)
They raging Curse, the second Cause's that
They falsly wou'd have call'd their cruel Fate.
Some Curse their Planet, some their Country blame,
Some say the Laws are hard, and fain wou'd name
Unjustice done them, tho perhaps what's done
Was Law not Justice; yet the Fault's their own.
Mischances, Fate, and ill dispensed Laws
They boldly plead, tho truely Sin's the Cause.
Thus TELOS by vain Venery undone,
Had no Remeid left him, but to lampoon
All Women for one W*****r's sake, whom he Wed,
Who since, (he says,) has Englify'd his Bed.
Had no Remeid left him, but to lampoon
All Women for one W*****r's sake, whom he Wed,
Who since, (he says,) has Englify'd his Bed.
SATYR, allow, that he injur'd the Fair,
And Chaster part the Sex's lesser share.
What then! What mov'd a Run-away for Treason
To plead their Cause, in neither Ryme nor Reason.
Officious sure he was: For certainlie,
Who want the Vices, of the Shame is free.
So that the Innocent wou'd never choise
As a Defence, Hypocrisie and Noise.
And those that wou'd a Poet hire by Joy,
Wou'd such a Bugbear as him ne're Employ.
Was't Conscience then? Religion he's as much
As might convert the English or confound the Dutch;
Or was't a Subject fit, as he suppos'd,
To spew the Wit In him Defoe had hos'd?
Nay, it's t'oblige those who do now caress him,
To know them think on 49 and guess them,
Who really do deserve a touch from thee,
Were't not that they thy friends intend to be;
And since the World's turning upside down,
See thou stand straight however falls the C****n.
And Chaster part the Sex's lesser share.
What then! What mov'd a Run-away for Treason
To plead their Cause, in neither Ryme nor Reason.
Officious sure he was: For certainlie,
Who want the Vices, of the Shame is free.
As a Defence, Hypocrisie and Noise.
And those that wou'd a Poet hire by Joy,
Wou'd such a Bugbear as him ne're Employ.
Was't Conscience then? Religion he's as much
As might convert the English or confound the Dutch;
Or was't a Subject fit, as he suppos'd,
To spew the Wit In him Defoe had hos'd?
Nay, it's t'oblige those who do now caress him,
To know them think on 49 and guess them,
Who really do deserve a touch from thee,
Were't not that they thy friends intend to be;
And since the World's turning upside down,
See thou stand straight however falls the C****n.
YET Satyre fear not to correct the Sot,
For tho they use him, yet they love him not.
So you'll see, as he sits up in Sedition;
The W****s forsake him as an old Edition;
For altho Traitors for a space succeed,
As for a season flourisheth the Weed,
To tast of which is poysonous, as what
Is squeez'd from the dull brain of this dull Brat,
Whose eyes are as a Sign-post to declare
Him to be B*****t's Tool and Juda's Heir;
Who apeing Rogues like T***n and Defoe
Wou'd needs writ legion 'ddresses, sense or no;
Which scourg'd him here where he's been truely whip't.
And better wou'd, if he'd not silence keep't?
For tho they use him, yet they love him not.
So you'll see, as he sits up in Sedition;
The W****s forsake him as an old Edition;
For altho Traitors for a space succeed,
As for a season flourisheth the Weed,
To tast of which is poysonous, as what
Is squeez'd from the dull brain of this dull Brat,
Whose eyes are as a Sign-post to declare
Him to be B*****t's Tool and Juda's Heir;
Who apeing Rogues like T***n and Defoe
Wou'd needs writ legion 'ddresses, sense or no;
Which scourg'd him here where he's been truely whip't.
And better wou'd, if he'd not silence keep't?
TELL him his Poems stinketh (for his Crimes,
Tho nothing else) wou'd make men hate his Rimes,
Such Bumbast stuff as well becomes the man,
For Homers never do more than they can;
Since the learn'd Crew, whom he does strive to please,
Are pleas'd therewith, then Satyre be at ease:
Satyre if this cannot his foul mouth stop,
Tell him that the next Antidot's a Rope.
Tho nothing else) wou'd make men hate his Rimes,
Such Bumbast stuff as well becomes the man,
For Homers never do more than they can;
Since the learn'd Crew, whom he does strive to please,
Are pleas'd therewith, then Satyre be at ease:
Satyre if this cannot his foul mouth stop,
Tell him that the next Antidot's a Rope.
FUNIS.
| A New-Years Gift for the Renegado And Hansel to his Whiper | |