 | A Modern Essay On the Thirteenth Satyr of Juvenal |  |
1
JUVENAL's Thirteenth SATYR.
The Argument.
Our Author comforts his Friend Calvinus, who afflicts himself over-much for the loss of a Sum of Money, committed to the secret Trust of a supposed Friend, who denies and forswears it; shewing such Deceipts and Losses are frequent in this Corrupt Age, and familiar at Rome. That though the cunning Knave may avoid the Censure and Punishment of the Laws, yet he shall not escape the Scourge and Terror of his own Conscience.
2
None can a Crime in secret act,
But Conscience first condemns the Fact;
From whose dumb Checks Offenders find
A lasting Torment in their Mind.
And though a well-brib'd (1) Sh'riff ensure ye
A byass'd IGNORAMUS Jury;
Who, for the purpose, cull'd and pack'd,
Regard their Int'rest, not the Fact.
How ere absolv'd, yet still, the stains
On Memory's Record remains;
And though they may the Guilt out-face,
Good Men detest an Act so base.
But Conscience first condemns the Fact;
From whose dumb Checks Offenders find
A lasting Torment in their Mind.
And though a well-brib'd (1) Sh'riff ensure ye
A byass'd IGNORAMUS Jury;
Who, for the purpose, cull'd and pack'd,
Regard their Int'rest, not the Fact.
3
On Memory's Record remains;
And though they may the Guilt out-face,
Good Men detest an Act so base.
Thy Loss, thank Heaven, is not so great,
Scarce to be felt in thy Estate;
And since the Fraud by which you smart,
Is usual, take't not to Heart:
Both Law and Equity afford
A Thousand Precedents on Record;
Demonstrating, That Breach of Trust is
So frequent, 'tis scarce thought Injustice.
Let Fools torment themselves, and grieve
For each slight Loss which they receive;
It cannot be the part of Wisdom,
Vainly to mourn when Mischief is done:
For Trifles, Grief should not abound,
But bear proportion with the Wound.
Thou, like a Bedlamite, dost rage,
Because in so debauch'd an Age,
A confident and ancient Crony,
Sunk, and forswore a Bag of Money.
And this a Miracle appears
To a gray Fopp of Threescore years.
Shall Lessons by Experience taught,
Be thrown away, and go for nought?
Can't thy dull Genius edify
By Precepts of Philosophy?
Whose saving Truths the wise advance,
To vanquish all th' Attacks of Chance;
Custom ev'n the unlearn'd convincing,
To bear the Yoke, and without wincing;
Since vain Reluctancy and Strife,
Increase the irksom load of Life.
Scarce to be felt in thy Estate;
And since the Fraud by which you smart,
Is usual, take't not to Heart:
Both Law and Equity afford
A Thousand Precedents on Record;
Demonstrating, That Breach of Trust is
So frequent, 'tis scarce thought Injustice.
4
For each slight Loss which they receive;
It cannot be the part of Wisdom,
Vainly to mourn when Mischief is done:
For Trifles, Grief should not abound,
But bear proportion with the Wound.
Thou, like a Bedlamite, dost rage,
Because in so debauch'd an Age,
A confident and ancient Crony,
Sunk, and forswore a Bag of Money.
And this a Miracle appears
To a gray Fopp of Threescore years.
5
Be thrown away, and go for nought?
Can't thy dull Genius edify
By Precepts of Philosophy?
Whose saving Truths the wise advance,
To vanquish all th' Attacks of Chance;
Custom ev'n the unlearn'd convincing,
To bear the Yoke, and without wincing;
Since vain Reluctancy and Strife,
Increase the irksom load of Life.
When was there yet a Holy-day,
Did not new Frauds and Tricks betray?
Money's by Murder, Treason, got,
Cheats, Poyson, Padding, and the Plot:
Bullies, Buffoons, Knights of the Post,
Roar, domineer, and rule the Roast;
And Dagger, Pistol, Poyson's made
The Implements of gainful Trade;
Since Good Men are so rare, that even
In Rome it self you'll scarce find seven:
Why should we fondly dream, a dozen
Of Jurors may not bribe and cozen,
When Sodom might (in times of Yore)
Have been preserv'd for Half-a-score?
With Iron, Brass, Silver, and Gold,
Past (2) Ages did resemblance hold;
To name this last degenerate Race,
Nature no Metal yields so base.
Yet we for want of Faith, in vain
Aloud of God and Man complain;
Loud, as a Pleader in the Hall,
Resolv'd t' out-noise, and brazen all.
Thou, Grandsire, that for nothing grieves,
Deserv'st a Bibb and Hanging-sleeves:
Know'st not, that others hoarded Riches
With Tantalizing Charms bewitches;
And powerful Lechery allure 'em,
That Locks and Bars cannot secure 'em?
Who can but laugh at Sot so idle,
That swears an Atheist on a Bible,
Flatt'ring himself he will be just,
Because an Oath secures his Trust?
Think'st he believes a Power Divine
Inhabits every Church and Shrine?
Thy Folly makes the sly Rogue laugh,
To see old Birds so caught with Chaff:
Such Rules the Infant World obey'd,
When (3) Saturn first the Scepter sway'd;
Ere forc'd he lay'd his Kingship down,
And for a Scythe exchang'd a Crown.
When (4) Juno was a Tomrig Lass,
And (5) Jove without a hair on's Face,
Play'd at Bo-peep in Ida's Cave,
Before plain Heaven turn'd Courtly brave:
Ere Foreign Tricks, old Rights invading,
Brought in Balls, Treats, and Masquerading,
(6)No handsom Boy or (7) Wench did Skink
To add a Gusto to their Drink.
Or Clownish (8) Vulcan, all besmear'd
With Soot, wip'd Nectar from his Beard.
Then frugal Gods and eke Goddesses,
Din'd privately on homely Messes;
Scant Bills of Fare serv'd mod'rate wishes,
Plain wholesome, no Luxurious Dishes.
There Godships in the Upper House
Were not as now so numerous,
When for good Husbandry the Skies
Were manag'd by few Deities.
Nor did their Number, Pomp, and State
Make (9) Atlas groan beneath the weight;
None rul'd the (10) Ocean, or did keep
His Court and Revels in the Deep,
Or surly Tyrant Rul'd in Hell
Ghosts, that in gloomy Minsions dwell:
Nor tortur'd Souls as yet did feel
Whips, Furies, Vulture, or the Wheel.
The jolly shades, frolick and free,
Found no restraint of Liberty.
Vertue was then at such a height,
Dishonesty was wondred at,
Had then a Boy not capp'd a Beard,
Or, That not risen when Age appear'd,
Though his own happier home afforded
More Nuts and Acorns larger hoarded,
It was so Capital a Crime,
Deserv'd no Clergy at that time
For Beards then swept preheminence
From Valour, Beauty, Birth, and Sense.
Did not new Frauds and Tricks betray?
6
Cheats, Poyson, Padding, and the Plot:
Bullies, Buffoons, Knights of the Post,
Roar, domineer, and rule the Roast;
And Dagger, Pistol, Poyson's made
The Implements of gainful Trade;
Since Good Men are so rare, that even
In Rome it self you'll scarce find seven:
Why should we fondly dream, a dozen
Of Jurors may not bribe and cozen,
When Sodom might (in times of Yore)
Have been preserv'd for Half-a-score?
7
Past (2) Ages did resemblance hold;
To name this last degenerate Race,
Nature no Metal yields so base.
Yet we for want of Faith, in vain
Aloud of God and Man complain;
Loud, as a Pleader in the Hall,
Resolv'd t' out-noise, and brazen all.
Thou, Grandsire, that for nothing grieves,
Deserv'st a Bibb and Hanging-sleeves:
Know'st not, that others hoarded Riches
With Tantalizing Charms bewitches;
8
That Locks and Bars cannot secure 'em?
Who can but laugh at Sot so idle,
That swears an Atheist on a Bible,
Flatt'ring himself he will be just,
Because an Oath secures his Trust?
Think'st he believes a Power Divine
Inhabits every Church and Shrine?
Thy Folly makes the sly Rogue laugh,
To see old Birds so caught with Chaff:
Such Rules the Infant World obey'd,
When (3) Saturn first the Scepter sway'd;
9
And for a Scythe exchang'd a Crown.
When (4) Juno was a Tomrig Lass,
And (5) Jove without a hair on's Face,
Play'd at Bo-peep in Ida's Cave,
Before plain Heaven turn'd Courtly brave:
Ere Foreign Tricks, old Rights invading,
Brought in Balls, Treats, and Masquerading,
(6)No handsom Boy or (7) Wench did Skink
To add a Gusto to their Drink.
Or Clownish (8) Vulcan, all besmear'd
With Soot, wip'd Nectar from his Beard.
10
Din'd privately on homely Messes;
Scant Bills of Fare serv'd mod'rate wishes,
Plain wholesome, no Luxurious Dishes.
There Godships in the Upper House
Were not as now so numerous,
When for good Husbandry the Skies
Were manag'd by few Deities.
Nor did their Number, Pomp, and State
Make (9) Atlas groan beneath the weight;
None rul'd the (10) Ocean, or did keep
His Court and Revels in the Deep,
11
Ghosts, that in gloomy Minsions dwell:
Nor tortur'd Souls as yet did feel
Whips, Furies, Vulture, or the Wheel.
The jolly shades, frolick and free,
Found no restraint of Liberty.
Vertue was then at such a height,
Dishonesty was wondred at,
Had then a Boy not capp'd a Beard,
Or, That not risen when Age appear'd,
Though his own happier home afforded
More Nuts and Acorns larger hoarded,
12
Deserv'd no Clergy at that time
For Beards then swept preheminence
From Valour, Beauty, Birth, and Sense.
Now find a Friend so firm and just;
Who never broke his Faith, or Trust;
So to a secret promise true,
He ne'er conceal'd one penny due:
Let Fame such an Example tell,
We'll register't in Chronicle;
And who but him, the Town shall ring,
And for the News, Te Deum sing;
Him, him, I'll like a Moon-calf view,
Or Monster shewn at Barthol'mew;
And wonder more, than if't had rain'd
Milstones an hour, and no one brain'd;
Than Sea of Milk, fresh-water Oyster,
Mule pregnant, or Bees swarm'd in Cloyster;
Or what has been devis'd by Fiction,
When bantring Drolls the World put tricks on;
This Man our Wonder shall engage,
As the sole Phœnix of the Age.
And is it so?—why then is't wondred,
If you are bilkt of paltry hundred?
By Chamber, and Bankers of London,
Orphans, and herds of Fools are undone,
Which like a Deluge, in a day
Their whole Estates have swept away.
Who never broke his Faith, or Trust;
So to a secret promise true,
He ne'er conceal'd one penny due:
Let Fame such an Example tell,
We'll register't in Chronicle;
And who but him, the Town shall ring,
And for the News, Te Deum sing;
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Or Monster shewn at Barthol'mew;
And wonder more, than if't had rain'd
Milstones an hour, and no one brain'd;
Than Sea of Milk, fresh-water Oyster,
Mule pregnant, or Bees swarm'd in Cloyster;
Or what has been devis'd by Fiction,
When bantring Drolls the World put tricks on;
This Man our Wonder shall engage,
As the sole Phœnix of the Age.
And is it so?—why then is't wondred,
If you are bilkt of paltry hundred?
By Chamber, and Bankers of London,
Orphans, and herds of Fools are undone,
14
Their whole Estates have swept away.
If slight of Hand, and queint Disguise
Conceal our Cheats from Mortal Eyes,
What matter is't, what Heaven 'spies?
Such Witnesses we'll ne'er dispute,
That seeing all things will be mute;
The point resolv'd, with demure look
The formal Knave salutes the Book;
With Canting tone, and turn'd-up Eyes,
The brazen Rogue vents Perjuries;
Varnishing Tales Apochryphal,
With colours most Canonical.
Avouching (Verbo Sacerdotis)
Slight matters that occur to 's notice;
Confirms untruths he does depose,
With Vollies of the deepest Oaths;
And can with confidence defie
Jove, and his whole Artillery:
By two-edg'd Sword of Bully Mars,
Apollo's Bow and Shafts he swears;
By chast Diana's Murdring Quiver,
And Trident of the Sea's Law-giver;
By Pallas Spear, and by the Club
Wherewith Alcides us'd to drub;
And all the dreadful Weapons seen
In Heaven's warlike Magazine;
And wishes (if he Married be)
The Devil take's Wife, and Family.
Conceal our Cheats from Mortal Eyes,
What matter is't, what Heaven 'spies?
Such Witnesses we'll ne'er dispute,
That seeing all things will be mute;
The point resolv'd, with demure look
The formal Knave salutes the Book;
With Canting tone, and turn'd-up Eyes,
The brazen Rogue vents Perjuries;
Varnishing Tales Apochryphal,
With colours most Canonical.
15
Slight matters that occur to 's notice;
Confirms untruths he does depose,
With Vollies of the deepest Oaths;
And can with confidence defie
Jove, and his whole Artillery:
By two-edg'd Sword of Bully Mars,
Apollo's Bow and Shafts he swears;
By chast Diana's Murdring Quiver,
And Trident of the Sea's Law-giver;
By Pallas Spear, and by the Club
Wherewith Alcides us'd to drub;
And all the dreadful Weapons seen
In Heaven's warlike Magazine;
16
The Devil take's Wife, and Family.
Some do believe the World's advance
From Club of Atoms, jump'd by chance,
Which jumbled in a Chaos lay,
Struggling to hit this lucky way;
Then Order from Confusion rose,
And Matter, fitly did dispose,
Which has subsisted ever since,
By Nature, not by Providence;
That no God steers the course of things,
Event from wild Chance-medly springs;
The Sun by his own virtue burns,
Whose crooked course the Year returns,
Dispensing influence to all,
Makes Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall;
To the dull mass fresh life does give,
Makes Plants and Trees shoot forth and live;
Wholly cashiering Providence,
Religion, as a sham pretence,
Devis'd to prop weak Humane Law,
And Superstitious Fools to aw;
Whence unconcern'd, they'll swear upon
Both Testaments, or Alchoran;
And turning serious things to Jest,
Swear, swallow, or take any Test.
From Club of Atoms, jump'd by chance,
Which jumbled in a Chaos lay,
Struggling to hit this lucky way;
Then Order from Confusion rose,
And Matter, fitly did dispose,
Which has subsisted ever since,
By Nature, not by Providence;
That no God steers the course of things,
Event from wild Chance-medly springs;
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Whose crooked course the Year returns,
Dispensing influence to all,
Makes Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall;
To the dull mass fresh life does give,
Makes Plants and Trees shoot forth and live;
Wholly cashiering Providence,
Religion, as a sham pretence,
Devis'd to prop weak Humane Law,
And Superstitious Fools to aw;
Whence unconcern'd, they'll swear upon
Both Testaments, or Alchoran;
18
Swear, swallow, or take any Test.
Another Mungrel sort revere
A God, and Vengeance, yet forswear;
Thus arguing with themselves; For me
Let Heaven, what it please decree;
Strike me with ev'ry Malady,
Stone, Palsie, Gout, or Leprosy;
Content I'll live deaf, dumb, and blind,
So I may keep what I purloyn'd;
I'd rather grope my envy'd store,
Than live without it, scorn'd and poor:
What starving wretch did ever doubt
To swop his Health for the Rich Gout?
Or Foot-man having won the Race,
To Sup high, would not pawn his Bays?
In vain you humm haranging Vicar,
If he want Coin to purchase Liquor;
What can reward his pains, and studying,
But Money, Sunday's Beef, and Pudding?
Or what damn'd Poet ere would write,
That did not hope a good third Night?
It is not Zeal for a good Cause,
But Fees stir up the Man o'th' Laws;
Nor thirst of Fame, but hope of Plunder,
Makes Heroes charge thro' Pikes & Thunder.
A God, and Vengeance, yet forswear;
Thus arguing with themselves; For me
Let Heaven, what it please decree;
Strike me with ev'ry Malady,
Stone, Palsie, Gout, or Leprosy;
Content I'll live deaf, dumb, and blind,
So I may keep what I purloyn'd;
I'd rather grope my envy'd store,
Than live without it, scorn'd and poor:
19
To swop his Health for the Rich Gout?
Or Foot-man having won the Race,
To Sup high, would not pawn his Bays?
In vain you humm haranging Vicar,
If he want Coin to purchase Liquor;
What can reward his pains, and studying,
But Money, Sunday's Beef, and Pudding?
Or what damn'd Poet ere would write,
That did not hope a good third Night?
It is not Zeal for a good Cause,
But Fees stir up the Man o'th' Laws;
20
Makes Heroes charge thro' Pikes & Thunder.
Heaven's Vengeance heavy is we know,
But heavy things move always slow;
And if to punish all they doom,
When will my day of rec'ning come?
If courteous Heaven be as we find,
Still to repenting sinners kind,
Who knows but I may find a place
In some free gen'ral Act of Grace?
Besides, Jove's more a (11) Gentleman,
Than for each petty fault to damn;
And will for frailties pardon grant,
Which in our Nature they did plant;
Men pushing the same Game of sin,
With diff'ring Fates, some lose, some win;
While one in Cart meets with Reproaches,
The other Lords it in gilt Coaches;
A Traytor once successful grown,
Heaven his prevailing Cause does own;
Else why should Providence permit
Usurpers on the Throne to sit?
But heavy things move always slow;
And if to punish all they doom,
When will my day of rec'ning come?
If courteous Heaven be as we find,
Still to repenting sinners kind,
Who knows but I may find a place
In some free gen'ral Act of Grace?
Besides, Jove's more a (11) Gentleman,
Than for each petty fault to damn;
21
Which in our Nature they did plant;
Men pushing the same Game of sin,
With diff'ring Fates, some lose, some win;
While one in Cart meets with Reproaches,
The other Lords it in gilt Coaches;
A Traytor once successful grown,
Heaven his prevailing Cause does own;
Else why should Providence permit
Usurpers on the Throne to sit?
With Arguments like these they keep,
And lull their Consciences asleep;
Till by degrees they lose all sense
Of shame, and ev'ry act dispense;
As Women having broke the Ice
Of Honour, plunge in ev'ry Vice:
From paths of Vertue newly stray'd,
Out-do Professors of the Trade;
By their old Tempter once drawn in,
They boggle at no sort of sin:
These Qualms once over, 'twill be sport
To see him dare thee to the Court,
Proffer ye Answer, Affidavit,
Speak which you please, Sir, you shall have it.
Perhaps the matter so he'll handle,
He'll bring an Action for the Scandal,
Where, Confidence will Guilt out-face,
And for meer Innocence will pass;
The Cause by a right Jury try'd,
Get a fat Verdict on his side;
Or if you chance to guard that blot,
Perhaps he'll swear you into th' Plot;
While you roar out like a whip'd Strumpet
At Bridewell, loud as speaking Trumpet,
And in Blasphemous terms in vain
Of God and Man alike complain.
Can there be Gods above, and bear
Audacious Perjury to hear?
So unresenting, tame, and base,
T' endure Affronts done to their Face:
'Twould move a perfect stone or stock,
To see a Villain thus to mock;
Why offer we vain Sacrifice,
Or court regardless Deities?
What need we either Church or Steeple,
Or Priests to spunge upon the People,
If blindly no regard be had
To Men, or Actions good or bad?
If in Truth's Quarrel they'll not arm,
Or do us either good or harm?
Why should they baulk us or encourage,
If they are no more than Chips in Porridge?
Or why allow their Pictures room,
Or Rev'rence then each Common Tomb?
Or pay respect to Heavenly Madams,
More than the Statue of (12) Jack Adams?
And lull their Consciences asleep;
22
Of shame, and ev'ry act dispense;
As Women having broke the Ice
Of Honour, plunge in ev'ry Vice:
From paths of Vertue newly stray'd,
Out-do Professors of the Trade;
By their old Tempter once drawn in,
They boggle at no sort of sin:
These Qualms once over, 'twill be sport
To see him dare thee to the Court,
Proffer ye Answer, Affidavit,
Speak which you please, Sir, you shall have it.
23
He'll bring an Action for the Scandal,
Where, Confidence will Guilt out-face,
And for meer Innocence will pass;
The Cause by a right Jury try'd,
Get a fat Verdict on his side;
Or if you chance to guard that blot,
Perhaps he'll swear you into th' Plot;
While you roar out like a whip'd Strumpet
At Bridewell, loud as speaking Trumpet,
And in Blasphemous terms in vain
Of God and Man alike complain.
24
Audacious Perjury to hear?
So unresenting, tame, and base,
T' endure Affronts done to their Face:
'Twould move a perfect stone or stock,
To see a Villain thus to mock;
Why offer we vain Sacrifice,
Or court regardless Deities?
What need we either Church or Steeple,
Or Priests to spunge upon the People,
If blindly no regard be had
To Men, or Actions good or bad?
25
Or do us either good or harm?
Why should they baulk us or encourage,
If they are no more than Chips in Porridge?
Or why allow their Pictures room,
Or Rev'rence then each Common Tomb?
Or pay respect to Heavenly Madams,
More than the Statue of (12) Jack Adams?
Cease thus to rave and calmly try,
What Comforts Reason can apply:
Stiff Precepts from the Stoicks brought,
Or Books by rigid Cynicks wrought,
Or the Calm Epicure, content
With Herbs and Roots weak Nourishment,
Are useless here: This easy Cure
Is done without the help of Lower.
If the Misfortune which you tell,
Want in the World a Parallel,
Then I'll not hinder you to maul,
Your Rev'rent Head against the wall,
Or Grief extravagant to show;
Let Tears as from a Fountain flow:
For desperate Debts we seldom look,
But write them on the back o'th' Book:
In vain with Locks, after the Deed,
We would secure the pilfer'd Steed.
The Funerals of our Friends with State,
And mournful Pomp, we celebrate,
Condoling their Deceased Souls,
With Bellowings loud, as Irish howls;
Content to grieve in outward show,
And squeeze a feigned Tear or two;
With real Sorrow truer hearted,
We mourn our Money that's departed;
While all agree in this belief,
We do not Counterfeit our Grief.
If Law and Equity produces
Each Day fresh instance of Abuses,
'Tis each Defendants usual practice,
For to disown their Bond their Act is;
Proceed to Juries when they've pack'd 'em,
Find Money paid, or non est factum,
A Counterfeit Bill of Exchange
No Man does now admire as strange:
When for to make the Cheat pass better,
Post brings advice in feigned letter.
To those Intrigues who is a Stranger
That ever heard the name of (12) Granger?
And all this vouch'd by witnesses,
That make a trade of Perjuries,
And daily are at Change-time found,
In Temple-Walks, or the Church-round;
Though Fortune sometimes vilely nicks 'em,
And in the Wooden-ruff fast sticks 'em.
What Comforts Reason can apply:
Stiff Precepts from the Stoicks brought,
Or Books by rigid Cynicks wrought,
26
With Herbs and Roots weak Nourishment,
Are useless here: This easy Cure
Is done without the help of Lower.
If the Misfortune which you tell,
Want in the World a Parallel,
Then I'll not hinder you to maul,
Your Rev'rent Head against the wall,
Or Grief extravagant to show;
Let Tears as from a Fountain flow:
For desperate Debts we seldom look,
But write them on the back o'th' Book:
27
We would secure the pilfer'd Steed.
The Funerals of our Friends with State,
And mournful Pomp, we celebrate,
Condoling their Deceased Souls,
With Bellowings loud, as Irish howls;
Content to grieve in outward show,
And squeeze a feigned Tear or two;
With real Sorrow truer hearted,
We mourn our Money that's departed;
While all agree in this belief,
We do not Counterfeit our Grief.
28
Each Day fresh instance of Abuses,
'Tis each Defendants usual practice,
For to disown their Bond their Act is;
Proceed to Juries when they've pack'd 'em,
Find Money paid, or non est factum,
A Counterfeit Bill of Exchange
No Man does now admire as strange:
When for to make the Cheat pass better,
Post brings advice in feigned letter.
To those Intrigues who is a Stranger
That ever heard the name of (12) Granger?
29
That make a trade of Perjuries,
And daily are at Change-time found,
In Temple-Walks, or the Church-round;
Though Fortune sometimes vilely nicks 'em,
And in the Wooden-ruff fast sticks 'em.
Why then are you too delicate
To share with us the common Fate?
Why you so great a Favourite,
That no Mischance on you must light?
While we predestin'd Reprobates,
Are persecuted by the Fates.
Like Slaves must drudge and carry double,
Tugging the labouring Oar of Trouble:
Thy wrongs are scarcely worth regard,
If with known Villainies compar'd,
Th' effects of Rapine, Lust, and Rage,
Which every day amaze the Age:
Murder is to each hectoring Blade,
A gainful, fashionable Trade;
While Bravoes let themselves to hire,
As hackney Seconds, to each Squire.
For drunken Brawls, notorious Misses,
(13) Gilt makes them Combat like the Swisses.
Examples of all Crimes appear
In ev'ry (14) Newgate-Calendar:
Rape, Incest, Murder, Sodomy,
Theft, Sacrilege, and Burglary;
Here Papists set the Town on Fire;
Or else the (15) Monument's a Lyer;
But who will Credit Patience Ward,
A Knight o'th Post upon Record?
Villains the Sacrament receive,
Only with a Design to thieve;
And after Service staying late,
Both watch and pray to steal the Plate.
Presented as I well remember,
To bribe the Town, to choose a Member:
These make no more to strip a Shrine,
Then Buccaneers beyond the Line;
A Saint or Demy-God melt down,
Remorseless as Blood stole the Crown.
For which and other famous Pranks,
Some purchase Punishment, some Thanks.
To share with us the common Fate?
Why you so great a Favourite,
That no Mischance on you must light?
While we predestin'd Reprobates,
Are persecuted by the Fates.
30
Tugging the labouring Oar of Trouble:
Thy wrongs are scarcely worth regard,
If with known Villainies compar'd,
Th' effects of Rapine, Lust, and Rage,
Which every day amaze the Age:
Murder is to each hectoring Blade,
A gainful, fashionable Trade;
While Bravoes let themselves to hire,
As hackney Seconds, to each Squire.
For drunken Brawls, notorious Misses,
(13) Gilt makes them Combat like the Swisses.
31
In ev'ry (14) Newgate-Calendar:
Rape, Incest, Murder, Sodomy,
Theft, Sacrilege, and Burglary;
Here Papists set the Town on Fire;
Or else the (15) Monument's a Lyer;
But who will Credit Patience Ward,
A Knight o'th Post upon Record?
Villains the Sacrament receive,
Only with a Design to thieve;
And after Service staying late,
Both watch and pray to steal the Plate.
32
To bribe the Town, to choose a Member:
These make no more to strip a Shrine,
Then Buccaneers beyond the Line;
A Saint or Demy-God melt down,
Remorseless as Blood stole the Crown.
For which and other famous Pranks,
Some purchase Punishment, some Thanks.
These are but slight and trivial Crimes,
Mere Peccadillios of our times,
Did you your private Wrongs compare
With Poys'ners, Treason, Massacre;
All which, with far more useful Lessons,
From Dawn till Night you'll hear at Sessions.
Consider well Mens manners, then
Say you're ill treated if you can.
Mere Peccadillios of our times,
Did you your private Wrongs compare
With Poys'ners, Treason, Massacre;
33
From Dawn till Night you'll hear at Sessions.
Consider well Mens manners, then
Say you're ill treated if you can.
Why should you grumble if you meet
Fowl play, where ev'ry Man's a Cheat?
Who wonders at a crafty Scot?
Or Dutchman given to the Pot?
Who would admire a Black in Guiny?
Or Church-land should produce a Nynny?
Or Daughter bred by Mother lewd,
That has the self same Course pursu'd?
Or fulsom Bawd with half a Nose,
Confirm her wheedling Shamms with Oaths?
All this unto a Man of Sense,
Being but natural Consequence.
Fowl play, where ev'ry Man's a Cheat?
Who wonders at a crafty Scot?
Or Dutchman given to the Pot?
Who would admire a Black in Guiny?
Or Church-land should produce a Nynny?
Or Daughter bred by Mother lewd,
That has the self same Course pursu'd?
34
Confirm her wheedling Shamms with Oaths?
All this unto a Man of Sense,
Being but natural Consequence.
(18)When Hostil Cranes, with clamors loud,
In Squadrons make a noisy cloud,
The Pygmy-land Militia rise
T' oppose their common Enemies;
With force united Puny-Nation,
Joyn to resist threatning Invasion;
If from the Body any stray,
Pickeering Crane sweepes him away,
And does in gripeing Tallons bear,
The sprawling Warriour through the Air.
Doubtless so Comical a sight,
Would with the Novelty delight;
But in that numerous dwarfish Host,
Where none's but a foot high at most,
And such Incounters happen daily,
None on the accident will rally.
In Squadrons make a noisy cloud,
The Pygmy-land Militia rise
T' oppose their common Enemies;
With force united Puny-Nation,
Joyn to resist threatning Invasion;
If from the Body any stray,
Pickeering Crane sweepes him away,
35
The sprawling Warriour through the Air.
Doubtless so Comical a sight,
Would with the Novelty delight;
But in that numerous dwarfish Host,
Where none's but a foot high at most,
And such Incounters happen daily,
None on the accident will rally.
But shall so base a Perjury,
Pass unrewarded, and shot-free?
Shan't Vengance dog him at the Heel,
And he divine resentment feel?
Suppose the Wretch this very hour,
Wholly consign'd into your Power;
And suffer'd for his punishment
The sharpest Pains you could invent;
Impal'd, gashook'd, wrackt or strappado'd,
Or on live Coals were Carbonado'd,
In some unthought of manner dies,
That Malice yet is to devise;
All this will not retrieve your loss,
Or make you richer by a Cross:
Pass unrewarded, and shot-free?
Shan't Vengance dog him at the Heel,
And he divine resentment feel?
36
Wholly consign'd into your Power;
And suffer'd for his punishment
The sharpest Pains you could invent;
Impal'd, gashook'd, wrackt or strappado'd,
Or on live Coals were Carbonado'd,
In some unthought of manner dies,
That Malice yet is to devise;
All this will not retrieve your loss,
Or make you richer by a Cross:
But then Revenge in these Intrigues
Sweeter than Muskadine and Eggs;
Is by fond Mortals understood,
Above all sublunary good:
So do the Mad cap, hare-brain'd crow'd
Of Dam-me-Boys, roar out aloud,
Who for a frolick, or but flight
Occasions, will lug out and fight;
And when the Brutes are mad or drunk,
Swagger for nothing, or a Punk;
Huff, Bully, Bounce Rhodomontadoes,
And quarrel with their very Shadows.
Such Practice has been in all Ages,
Condemn'd by sober Men and Sages:
Passions in narrow Compass pent,
Like winds, will strugle for a vent;
While Souls inlarg'd, do seldom find
Such Storms in their serener mind;
Who can with ease and scorn surmount,
All sense of Wrong, and an Affront:
For so the wise (19) Crysippus thought,
And (20) Thales mild Example taught:
(21) Socrates suffer'd without strife,
Sworn and trappan'd out of his life;
Undaunted, drank the Poyson up,
Nor wish'd his Foes might pledge the Cup:
Wisdom apt Remedies can find,
To cure each Sickness of the Mind,
With weeding Errors from the Ground,
Plants in their Room, what's true and sound:
Revenge by Nature growing wild,
By care is rooted out, and kill'd:
But if the Soyl Indulgence give,
No Plants of Justice there will live;
O'er-run, and choak'd, thrive there no longer,
Where Reason's weak, Passions grow stronger;
The certain cause that still we find,
It domineers in Woman-kind,
And leads their easy Minds astray,
Like Will i'th Wisp, out of the way;
Hood-wink'd they rove the crooked Path,
Of Head strong Lust, Pride, Fraud & Wrath,
Till tyr'd, and torn, with Bush and Bryer,
In Bogs of Infamy they mire.
Sweeter than Muskadine and Eggs;
37
Above all sublunary good:
So do the Mad cap, hare-brain'd crow'd
Of Dam-me-Boys, roar out aloud,
Who for a frolick, or but flight
Occasions, will lug out and fight;
And when the Brutes are mad or drunk,
Swagger for nothing, or a Punk;
Huff, Bully, Bounce Rhodomontadoes,
And quarrel with their very Shadows.
Such Practice has been in all Ages,
Condemn'd by sober Men and Sages:
38
Like winds, will strugle for a vent;
While Souls inlarg'd, do seldom find
Such Storms in their serener mind;
Who can with ease and scorn surmount,
All sense of Wrong, and an Affront:
For so the wise (19) Crysippus thought,
And (20) Thales mild Example taught:
(21) Socrates suffer'd without strife,
Sworn and trappan'd out of his life;
Undaunted, drank the Poyson up,
Nor wish'd his Foes might pledge the Cup:
39
To cure each Sickness of the Mind,
With weeding Errors from the Ground,
Plants in their Room, what's true and sound:
Revenge by Nature growing wild,
By care is rooted out, and kill'd:
But if the Soyl Indulgence give,
No Plants of Justice there will live;
O'er-run, and choak'd, thrive there no longer,
Where Reason's weak, Passions grow stronger;
The certain cause that still we find,
It domineers in Woman-kind,
40
Like Will i'th Wisp, out of the way;
Hood-wink'd they rove the crooked Path,
Of Head strong Lust, Pride, Fraud & Wrath,
Till tyr'd, and torn, with Bush and Bryer,
In Bogs of Infamy they mire.
Can you then fondly think, because
Crimes scape the Censure of the Laws,
They pass unpunish'd? No: within,
Conscience afflicts them for their sin;
While sharper pains their Souls torment,
Than Judge, or Tyrant can invent:
No sense of Torture can compare
With Pangs of Sinner in dispair:
That's sharp, but momentary Grief;
This knows no End, nor hopes Relief;
While in their Breasts condemn'd, they feel,
And antedate the Pains of Hell.
Crimes scape the Censure of the Laws,
They pass unpunish'd? No: within,
Conscience afflicts them for their sin;
While sharper pains their Souls torment,
Than Judge, or Tyrant can invent:
41
With Pangs of Sinner in dispair:
That's sharp, but momentary Grief;
This knows no End, nor hopes Relief;
While in their Breasts condemn'd, they feel,
And antedate the Pains of Hell.
A Story just pat to this Case
I've read, but cannot quote the place,
Tho in Authentick writ, I'm certain;
That once upon a time, a Spartan
Unto whose trust, a friend like you,
Had left a bag of Coin or two,
Of which possest, the Rascal grutches
To part with's Booty out of's Clutches;
To be resolv'd of what he doubted,
Consults the Oracle about it,
If he might use Equivocation,
Or else forswear it on occasion;
And so might bite his Friend confiding:
Which made the inraged Priestess chide him,
And plainly told him from Apollo,
Due punishment such Crimes should follow.
Worthy the God was the Prediction
Which prov'd a true one, and no Fiction;
With Thunder of the Sentence stunn'd,
He hasts his Purchace to refund:
Now 'twas not Honesty, but Fright,
Which made the Knave at last do Right;
Nor did Compliance save his Bacon,
That would have Virtues Paths forsaken;
Himself with his whole Fire-side,
At once for an example dy'd,
Together with Remote Relations,
Unto the Third, Fourth Generations.
If Perjury altho but meant;
Met with so Tragical Event:
What dreadful Vengeance must impend,
So base, and treacherous a Friend?
I've read, but cannot quote the place,
Tho in Authentick writ, I'm certain;
That once upon a time, a Spartan
Unto whose trust, a friend like you,
Had left a bag of Coin or two,
42
To part with's Booty out of's Clutches;
To be resolv'd of what he doubted,
Consults the Oracle about it,
If he might use Equivocation,
Or else forswear it on occasion;
And so might bite his Friend confiding:
Which made the inraged Priestess chide him,
And plainly told him from Apollo,
Due punishment such Crimes should follow.
43
Which prov'd a true one, and no Fiction;
With Thunder of the Sentence stunn'd,
He hasts his Purchace to refund:
Now 'twas not Honesty, but Fright,
Which made the Knave at last do Right;
Nor did Compliance save his Bacon,
That would have Virtues Paths forsaken;
Himself with his whole Fire-side,
At once for an example dy'd,
Together with Remote Relations,
Unto the Third, Fourth Generations.
44
Met with so Tragical Event:
What dreadful Vengeance must impend,
So base, and treacherous a Friend?
Whoever but designs a Crime,
Is guilty, at the self same time,
Altho perhaps he ne'er proceeds
To ripen his intent to Deeds;
If the foul Crime he perpetrate,
Perpetual horrors on him wait;
Th' Effects of black, Despair he feels
That haunt and dog him at the heels;
Grief, Sorrow, each unwelcom Guest,
Take Lodgings in his anxious Breast:
If to divert his Pangs he try
Choice Musick, Mirth or Company,
Like Bancoe's Ghost, his ugly Sin,
To marr his Jollity, stalks in;
At Costly Banquet, 'twill not cease
To haunt, and to disturb his peace;
And tho the chief Guest at the Treat
He nauseats all, and cannot eat,
The Morsel chew'd he cannot swallow,
As if his Teeth were clog'd with Tallow:
To rowse him from his Dumps, they try
A Glass of noble Burgundy;
That friendly God's a sure relief,
From ev'ry Soul to banish Grief.
His vitiated Tast (alas!)
Receives no pleasure from the Glass;
And at old Hock makes as severe
A face, as if 'twere Vinegar.
Is guilty, at the self same time,
Altho perhaps he ne'er proceeds
To ripen his intent to Deeds;
If the foul Crime he perpetrate,
Perpetual horrors on him wait;
Th' Effects of black, Despair he feels
That haunt and dog him at the heels;
45
Take Lodgings in his anxious Breast:
If to divert his Pangs he try
Choice Musick, Mirth or Company,
Like Bancoe's Ghost, his ugly Sin,
To marr his Jollity, stalks in;
At Costly Banquet, 'twill not cease
To haunt, and to disturb his peace;
And tho the chief Guest at the Treat
He nauseats all, and cannot eat,
The Morsel chew'd he cannot swallow,
As if his Teeth were clog'd with Tallow:
46
A Glass of noble Burgundy;
That friendly God's a sure relief,
From ev'ry Soul to banish Grief.
His vitiated Tast (alas!)
Receives no pleasure from the Glass;
And at old Hock makes as severe
A face, as if 'twere Vinegar.
At night in Bed tosses and turns
Restless, while watchful Taper burns;
Or if by chance, slumber allows
His harass'd Limbs a short repose,
His working fancy represents
Fresh Argument for discontents
Dreams he th' abused Temple sees
And the affronted Dieties,
You his wrong'd friend before his Eyes,
Stalking in a Gygantick size,
Ready upon his Corps to sieze
To revenge Theft and Perjuries.
Bath'd in cold Sweats he frighted Shreiks
At Visions bloodier than (24) King Dick's.
These are the trembling Cowards start
At ev'ry chance with akeing Heart,
Look pale and are of Wits bereaven
To hear th' Artillery of Heaven.
Not guessing Chance can make so lowd
A Crack, when Winds break through a Cloud,
And flash, when each the other shocks,
Like Flint and Steel in Tinder-box:
The Wretches, in a sad Condition,
Fancy each Bolt brings its (25) Commission,
From Heavens avenging Arm being sent,
And aim'd at them for punishment;
Which if they scape, then they believe
That respit's, but a short reprieve
From an inevitable Doom,
That with surprise will surely come;
If Pulse uneven restless night,
With Symptoms of a Fever fright,
They think the dreadful Summon's come
To hurry 'em to eternal Doom;
To Heaven they dare not send a Prayer,
Least they wake sleeping Vengeance there;
And to their own destruction raise
Anger, they know not to appease.
Sin's of unconstant fickle Nature,
Varying its Object, shape and Matter;
To start fresh Game is always ranging:
Like Proteus makes no end of changing;
Cameleon Trimmer shifting dye,
By turns, wears ev'ry Livery.
Set the Door open to one Sin
All sorts of Crimes will strait rush in;
Decoy'd to swallow by the Devil
Quickly distinguish Good from Evil;
Fruits of Apostacy we find
Too soon in the debauched mind;
And though perhaps, sometimes within
Pangs of Remorse are felt for Sin;
When with like appetite we burn,
To our old haunts again, return;
Nature and Custom draws us in,
For who can bound or stint his Sin?
Reproofs, are Arguments for laughter,
To those have eat Shame, and drank after;
Grown resolute, like Men of Mettle,
They burnish face with brazen Kettle.
For Men, in the Career of Vice,
Like those that slide upon the Ice,
Can't on the sudden stop, but run
Push't by their Passions headlong on;
Nor on the Precipice can stay,
For Hell is down-hill all the way:
Who ever yet made stop at Sin,
When with Success, his hand is in?
A lucky Entrance makes him flush,
And at all Games his Fortune push,
Till he the Gentle Habit get
Of Vice, and dance into the Net,
With Irons cramp'd in Dungeon close,
The (26) Devil brings him his old shooes:
There jilting Fortune will deceive him,
Feign'd Friends, the World and Pleasure leave him;
Then lying pensive and forlorn,
Expos'd to Miseries and Scorn,
Must in base humble suppliant fashion,
The favour beg of Transportation.
Or to teach others useful Lesson,
Must to the Gallows make procession,
Where the poor Wretch, on sad Triangle,
A publick Spectacle shall dangle,
Doubtless so long a wish'd for sight,
Cannot but ravish with delight;
And then at last, with joyful mind
You'll own, Heaven's neither deaf nor blind.
Restless, while watchful Taper burns;
Or if by chance, slumber allows
His harass'd Limbs a short repose,
47
Fresh Argument for discontents
Dreams he th' abused Temple sees
And the affronted Dieties,
You his wrong'd friend before his Eyes,
Stalking in a Gygantick size,
Ready upon his Corps to sieze
To revenge Theft and Perjuries.
Bath'd in cold Sweats he frighted Shreiks
At Visions bloodier than (24) King Dick's.
These are the trembling Cowards start
At ev'ry chance with akeing Heart,
Look pale and are of Wits bereaven
To hear th' Artillery of Heaven.
48
A Crack, when Winds break through a Cloud,
And flash, when each the other shocks,
Like Flint and Steel in Tinder-box:
The Wretches, in a sad Condition,
Fancy each Bolt brings its (25) Commission,
From Heavens avenging Arm being sent,
And aim'd at them for punishment;
Which if they scape, then they believe
That respit's, but a short reprieve
From an inevitable Doom,
That with surprise will surely come;
49
With Symptoms of a Fever fright,
They think the dreadful Summon's come
To hurry 'em to eternal Doom;
To Heaven they dare not send a Prayer,
Least they wake sleeping Vengeance there;
And to their own destruction raise
Anger, they know not to appease.
Sin's of unconstant fickle Nature,
Varying its Object, shape and Matter;
To start fresh Game is always ranging:
Like Proteus makes no end of changing;
50
By turns, wears ev'ry Livery.
Set the Door open to one Sin
All sorts of Crimes will strait rush in;
Decoy'd to swallow by the Devil
Quickly distinguish Good from Evil;
Fruits of Apostacy we find
Too soon in the debauched mind;
And though perhaps, sometimes within
Pangs of Remorse are felt for Sin;
When with like appetite we burn,
To our old haunts again, return;
Nature and Custom draws us in,
For who can bound or stint his Sin?
51
To those have eat Shame, and drank after;
Grown resolute, like Men of Mettle,
They burnish face with brazen Kettle.
For Men, in the Career of Vice,
Like those that slide upon the Ice,
Can't on the sudden stop, but run
Push't by their Passions headlong on;
Nor on the Precipice can stay,
For Hell is down-hill all the way:
Who ever yet made stop at Sin,
When with Success, his hand is in?
52
And at all Games his Fortune push,
Till he the Gentle Habit get
Of Vice, and dance into the Net,
With Irons cramp'd in Dungeon close,
The (26) Devil brings him his old shooes:
There jilting Fortune will deceive him,
Feign'd Friends, the World and Pleasure leave him;
Then lying pensive and forlorn,
Expos'd to Miseries and Scorn,
Must in base humble suppliant fashion,
The favour beg of Transportation.
53
Must to the Gallows make procession,
Where the poor Wretch, on sad Triangle,
A publick Spectacle shall dangle,
Doubtless so long a wish'd for sight,
Cannot but ravish with delight;
And then at last, with joyful mind
You'll own, Heaven's neither deaf nor blind.
FINIS.
| A Modern Essay On the Thirteenth Satyr of Juvenal | |