 | Miscellanies in Prose and Verse |  |
245
THE FURMETARY.
A very Innocent and Harmless POEM.
249
Canto I.
No sooner did the Grey-Ey'd Morning peep,
And yawning Mortals stretch themselves from sleep;
Finders of Gold were now but newly past,
And Basket-Women did to Market haste:
The Watchmen were but just returning home,
To give the Thieves more Liberty to roam,
When from a Hill, by growing Beams of Light,
A stately Pile was offered to the Sight;
Three spacious Doors let Passengers go through,
And distant Stones did terminate their view:
Just here, as Ancient Poets sing, there stood,
The Noble Palace of the Valiant Lud;
His Image now appears in Portland Stone,
Each side supported by a God-like Son.
But underneath all the Three Heroes Shine,
In Living Colours, drawn upon a Sign,
Which shows the way to Ale, but not to Wine.
Near is a Place enclos'd with Iron-Bars,
Where many Mortals Curse their Cruel Stars,
When brought by Usurers into Distress,
For having Little, still must live on Less:
Stern Avarice keeps the Relentless Door,
And bids each Wretch Eternally be Poor.
Hence Hunger rises, dismally he Stalks,
And takes each single Pris'ner in his Walks:
This Duty done, the meager Monster stares,
Holds up his Bones, and thus begins his Pray'rs.
Thou Goddess Famine, that canst send us Blights,
With parching Heat by Day, and Storm by Nights:
Assist me now, so may all Lands be thine,
And Shoals of Orphans at thy Altars pine:
Long may thy Reign continue on each Shore,
Where-ever Peace and Plenty reign'd before.
I must confess, that to thy gracious Hand,
I Widows owe, that are at my Command;
I joy to hear their numerous Childrens Cries,
And bless thy Power to find they've no Supplies.
I thank thee for those Martyrs who would fly,
From Superstitious Rites and Tyranny,
And find their fullness of reward in me.
But 'tis with much Humility I own,
That generous Favour you have lately shown,
When Men that bravely have their Country, serv'd,
Receiv'd the just Reward that they deserv'd,
And are preferr'd to me, and shall be starv'd.
I can, but with Regret, I can despise,
Innumerable of the London Cries:
When Pease, and Mack'rel, with their harsher Sound,
The tender Organs of my Ears confound;
But that which makes my Projects all miscarry,
Is this Inhuman, Fatal Furmetary.
And yawning Mortals stretch themselves from sleep;
Finders of Gold were now but newly past,
And Basket-Women did to Market haste:
The Watchmen were but just returning home,
To give the Thieves more Liberty to roam,
When from a Hill, by growing Beams of Light,
A stately Pile was offered to the Sight;
250
And distant Stones did terminate their view:
Just here, as Ancient Poets sing, there stood,
The Noble Palace of the Valiant Lud;
His Image now appears in Portland Stone,
Each side supported by a God-like Son.
But underneath all the Three Heroes Shine,
In Living Colours, drawn upon a Sign,
Which shows the way to Ale, but not to Wine.
Near is a Place enclos'd with Iron-Bars,
Where many Mortals Curse their Cruel Stars,
When brought by Usurers into Distress,
For having Little, still must live on Less:
Stern Avarice keeps the Relentless Door,
And bids each Wretch Eternally be Poor.
Hence Hunger rises, dismally he Stalks,
And takes each single Pris'ner in his Walks:
This Duty done, the meager Monster stares,
Holds up his Bones, and thus begins his Pray'rs.
251
With parching Heat by Day, and Storm by Nights:
Assist me now, so may all Lands be thine,
And Shoals of Orphans at thy Altars pine:
Long may thy Reign continue on each Shore,
Where-ever Peace and Plenty reign'd before.
I must confess, that to thy gracious Hand,
I Widows owe, that are at my Command;
I joy to hear their numerous Childrens Cries,
And bless thy Power to find they've no Supplies.
I thank thee for those Martyrs who would fly,
From Superstitious Rites and Tyranny,
And find their fullness of reward in me.
But 'tis with much Humility I own,
That generous Favour you have lately shown,
When Men that bravely have their Country, serv'd,
Receiv'd the just Reward that they deserv'd,
And are preferr'd to me, and shall be starv'd.
252
Innumerable of the London Cries:
When Pease, and Mack'rel, with their harsher Sound,
The tender Organs of my Ears confound;
But that which makes my Projects all miscarry,
Is this Inhuman, Fatal Furmetary.
Not far from hence, just by the Bridge of Fleet,
With Spoon and Porringers, and Napkin neat,
A Faithless Syren does entice the Sense,
By Fumes of Viands, which she does dispence,
To mortal Stomachs, for rewarding Pence.
Whilst each Man's earliest Thoughts would banish me,
Who have no other Oracle but thee.
With Spoon and Porringers, and Napkin neat,
A Faithless Syren does entice the Sense,
By Fumes of Viands, which she does dispence,
To mortal Stomachs, for rewarding Pence.
Whilst each Man's earliest Thoughts would banish me,
Who have no other Oracle but thee.
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Canto II.
Whilst such like Prayers keen Hunger would advance,Fainting and Weakness threw him in a Trance:
Famine took pity on her careful Slave,
And kindly to him this Assistance gave.
She took the Figure of a thin parch'd Maid,
Who many Years had for a Husband staid;
And coming near to Hunger, thus she said:
My Darling Son, whilst Peace and Plenty smile,
And Happiness would over-run this Isle,
I joy to see, by this thy present care,
I've still some Friends remaining since the War:
In spite of us, A. does on Venison feed,
And Bread and Butter is for B. decreed;
254
To pass their Minutes with the sparkling Boul,
H, I's good Nature from his endless Store,
Is still conferring Blessings on the Poor,
For none, except 'tis K, regards them more.
L, M, N, O, P, Q, is vainly great,
And squanders half his Substance in a Treat:
Nice Eating by R, S, is understood,
T's Supper, tho' 'tis little, yet 'tis good;
U's Conversation's equal to his Wine,
You Sup with W, when e'er you Dine:
X, Y, and Z, hating to be confin'd,
Ramble to the next Eating-House they find.
Pleasant, good Humour'd, Beautiful and Gay,
Sometimes with Musick, and sometimes with Play,
Prolong their Pleasures till th' approaching Day.
And per se And alone, as Poets use,
The starving Dictates of my Rules pursues;
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Nor has he any constant Place to Dine,
But all his Notions of a Meal are mine.
Haste, haste, to him, a Blessing give from me,
And bid him write sharp things on Furmetry:
But I would have thee to Coffedro go,
And let Tobacco too thy Business know;
With famous Teedrums in this Case advise,
Rely on Sagoe, who is always wise:
Amidst such Counsel banish all Despair,
Trust me, you shall succeed in this Affair:
That Project which they Furmetary call,
Before next Breakfast-time shall surely fall.
This said, she quickly vanish'd in a Wind,
Had long within her Body been confin'd:
Thus Hercules, when he his Mistress found,
Soon knew her by her Scent, and by her Sound.
256
Canto III.
Hunger
rejoic'd to hear the blest Command,
That Furmetary should no longer stand;
With speed he to Coffeedro's Mansion flies,
And bids the pale-fac'd Mortal quickly rise:
Arise, my Friend, for upon thee do wait,
Dismal Events, and Prodigies of Fate!
'Tis break of Day, thy sooty Broth prepare,
And all thy other Liquors for a War:
Rouse up Tobacco, whose delicious sight,
Illuminated round with Beams of Light,
To my impatient Mind will cause Delight.
How will he conquer Nostrils that presume
To stand th' Attack of his impetuous Fume,
Let handsome Teedrums too be call'd to Arms,
For he has Courage in the midst of Charms:
Sago with Counsel fills his wakeful Brains,
But then his Wisdom countervails his Pains;
'Tis he shall be your Guide, he shall effect,
That glorious Conquest which we all expect:
The brave Hectorvus shall command this Force,
He'll meet Tubcarrio's Foot, or which is worse,
Oppose the fury of Carmanniel's Horse.
For his Reward, this he shall have each Day,
Drink Coffee, then strut out, and never pay.
That Furmetary should no longer stand;
With speed he to Coffeedro's Mansion flies,
And bids the pale-fac'd Mortal quickly rise:
Arise, my Friend, for upon thee do wait,
Dismal Events, and Prodigies of Fate!
'Tis break of Day, thy sooty Broth prepare,
And all thy other Liquors for a War:
Rouse up Tobacco, whose delicious sight,
Illuminated round with Beams of Light,
To my impatient Mind will cause Delight.
How will he conquer Nostrils that presume
To stand th' Attack of his impetuous Fume,
Let handsome Teedrums too be call'd to Arms,
For he has Courage in the midst of Charms:
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But then his Wisdom countervails his Pains;
'Tis he shall be your Guide, he shall effect,
That glorious Conquest which we all expect:
The brave Hectorvus shall command this Force,
He'll meet Tubcarrio's Foot, or which is worse,
Oppose the fury of Carmanniel's Horse.
For his Reward, this he shall have each Day,
Drink Coffee, then strut out, and never pay.
It was not long e'er the Grandees were met,
And round News-Papers, in full Order set;
Then Sago rising said, I hope you hear,
Hunger's Advice with an obedient Ear;
Our great Design admits of no delay,
Famine Commands, and we must all Obey:
That Syren which does Furmetary keep,
Long since is risen from the Bands of Sleep;
Her Spoons and Porringers with Art display'd,
Many of Hunger's Subjects have betray'd:
To Arms (Hectorvus cry'd) Coffeedro stout
Issue forth Liquor from thy scalding Spout;
Great One-and-All-i gives the first Alarms,
Then each Man snatches up offensive Arms.
To Ditch of Fleet couragiously they run,
Quicker than Thought; the Battle is begun:
Hectorvus first Tubcarrio does attack,
And by surprize soon lays him on his Back;
Thirsto and Drowtho then approaching near,
Soon overthrow two Magazines of Beer.
And round News-Papers, in full Order set;
Then Sago rising said, I hope you hear,
Hunger's Advice with an obedient Ear;
Our great Design admits of no delay,
Famine Commands, and we must all Obey:
That Syren which does Furmetary keep,
Long since is risen from the Bands of Sleep;
258
Many of Hunger's Subjects have betray'd:
To Arms (Hectorvus cry'd) Coffeedro stout
Issue forth Liquor from thy scalding Spout;
Great One-and-All-i gives the first Alarms,
Then each Man snatches up offensive Arms.
To Ditch of Fleet couragiously they run,
Quicker than Thought; the Battle is begun:
Hectorvus first Tubcarrio does attack,
And by surprize soon lays him on his Back;
Thirsto and Drowtho then approaching near,
Soon overthrow two Magazines of Beer.
The Innocent Syrena little thought,
That all these Arms against her self were brought;
Nor that in her Defence the Drink was spilt:
How could she fear, that never yet knew Guilt?
Her fragrant Juice, and her delicious Plumbs,
She does dispense, (with Gold upon her Thumbs)
Virgins and Youths arround her stood; she sate,
Inviron'd with a Wooden-Chair of State.
That all these Arms against her self were brought;
Nor that in her Defence the Drink was spilt:
How could she fear, that never yet knew Guilt?
Her fragrant Juice, and her delicious Plumbs,
She does dispense, (with Gold upon her Thumbs)
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Inviron'd with a Wooden-Chair of State.
In the mean time Tobacco strives to vex
A numerous Squadron of the Tender Sex;
What with strong Smoak, and with his stronger Breath,
He Funks Basketia and her Son to Death.
A numerous Squadron of the Tender Sex;
What with strong Smoak, and with his stronger Breath,
He Funks Basketia and her Son to Death.
Coffeedro then with Teedrums, and the Band,
Who carry'd scalding Liquors in their Hand;
Throw watry Ammunition in their Eyes,
On which Syrena's Party, frightned flies:
Carmannio straight drives up a Bulwork strong,
And Horse opposes to Coffeedro's Throng.
Coledrivio stands for bright Syrena's Guard,
And all her rallied Forces are prepar'd;
Carmannio then to Teedrums Squadron makes,
And the lean Mortal by the Buttons takes;
Not Teedrums Arts Carmannio could beseech,
But his rough Valour throws him in the Ditch.
Syrena, tho' surpriz'd, resolv'd to be
The Great Bonduca of her Furmetry:
Before her Throne couragiously she stands,
Managing Ladlesful with both her Hands.
The numerous Plumbs, like Hail-shot flew about,
And Plenty soon dispers'd the Meager Rout.
Who carry'd scalding Liquors in their Hand;
Throw watry Ammunition in their Eyes,
On which Syrena's Party, frightned flies:
Carmannio straight drives up a Bulwork strong,
And Horse opposes to Coffeedro's Throng.
Coledrivio stands for bright Syrena's Guard,
And all her rallied Forces are prepar'd;
Carmannio then to Teedrums Squadron makes,
And the lean Mortal by the Buttons takes;
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But his rough Valour throws him in the Ditch.
Syrena, tho' surpriz'd, resolv'd to be
The Great Bonduca of her Furmetry:
Before her Throne couragiously she stands,
Managing Ladlesful with both her Hands.
The numerous Plumbs, like Hail-shot flew about,
And Plenty soon dispers'd the Meager Rout.
So have I seen, at Fair that's nam'd from Horn,
Many a Ladle's Blow, by Prentice born;
In vain he strives their Passions to asswage,
With Threats would frighten; with soft Words engage;
Until thro' Milky-Gauntlet soundly beat,
His prudent Heels secure a quick Retreat.
Many a Ladle's Blow, by Prentice born;
In vain he strives their Passions to asswage,
With Threats would frighten; with soft Words engage;
Until thro' Milky-Gauntlet soundly beat,
His prudent Heels secure a quick Retreat.
Jamq; opus exegi, quod nec Jovis Ira nec Ignis,
Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas.
Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas.
THE END.
483
MISCELLANY POEMS.
485
SONG.
You say you Love; repeat again,
Repeat th' amazing Sound,
Repeat the Ease of all my Pain,
The Cure of ev'ry Wound.
Repeat th' amazing Sound,
Repeat the Ease of all my Pain,
The Cure of ev'ry Wound.
What you to Thousands have deny'd,
To me you freely give;
Whilst I in humble Silence dy'd
Your Mercy bids me live.
To me you freely give;
Whilst I in humble Silence dy'd
Your Mercy bids me live.
So upon Latmos Top each Night
Endymion sighing lay,
Gaz'd on the Moon's Transcendent Light,
Despair'd, and durst not pray.
Endymion sighing lay,
Gaz'd on the Moon's Transcendent Light,
Despair'd, and durst not pray.
486
But divine Cynthia saw his Grief,
Th' Effect of conquering Charms,
Unask'd the Goddess brings Relief,
And falls into his Arms.
Th' Effect of conquering Charms,
Unask'd the Goddess brings Relief,
And falls into his Arms.
SONG to Cælia.
The cruel Cælia loves and burns
In Flames she cannot hide;
Make her, dear Thyrsis, cold Returns,
Treat her with Scorn and Pride.
In Flames she cannot hide;
Make her, dear Thyrsis, cold Returns,
Treat her with Scorn and Pride.
You know the Captives she has made,
The Torment of her Chain:
Let her, let her be once betray'd,
Or rack her with Disdain.
The Torment of her Chain:
Let her, let her be once betray'd,
Or rack her with Disdain.
487
See Tears flow from her piercing Eyes,
She bends her Knee Divine;
Her Tears for Damon's sake despise;
Let her kneel still for mine.
She bends her Knee Divine;
Her Tears for Damon's sake despise;
Let her kneel still for mine.
Pursue thy Conquest, charming Youth,
Her haughty Beauty vex,
Till trembling Virgins learn this Truth,
Men can revenge their Sex.
Her haughty Beauty vex,
Till trembling Virgins learn this Truth,
Men can revenge their Sex.
488
An incomparable ODE of Malherb's writtten by him when the Marriage was on foot between this King of France, and Anne of Austria.
This Anna so Fair,
So talk'd of by Fame,
Why don't she appear?
Indeed, she's to blame!
Lewis sighs for the sake
Of her Charms, as they say;
What Excuse can she make
For not coming away?
If he does n't possess,
He dies with Despair;
Let's give him redress,
And go find out the Fair.
So talk'd of by Fame,
Why don't she appear?
Indeed, she's to blame!
Lewis sighs for the sake
Of her Charms, as they say;
What Excuse can she make
489
If he does n't possess,
He dies with Despair;
Let's give him redress,
And go find out the Fair.
NOTE.
The Translator propos'd to turn this Ode with all imaginable Exactness; and he hopes he has been pretty just to Malherb, only in the sixth Line he has made a small addition of these three Words, as they say: Which he thinks is excusable, if we consider the French Poet there talks a little too familiarly of the King's Passion, as if the King himself had owned it to him. The Translator thinks it more mannerly and respectful in Malherb to pretend to have the account of it only by Hearsay.
490
The Last Billet.
September
and November now were past,
When Men in Bonfires did their Firing waste;
Yet still my Monumental Log did last.
To begging Boys it was not made a Prey
On the King's Birth or Coronation Day.
Why with those Oaks, under whose sacred Shade
Charles was preserv'd, should any Fire be made?
At last a Frost, a dismal Frost there came,
Like that which made a Market upon Thame:
Unruly Company would then have made
Fire with this Log, whilst thus its Owner pray'd.
Thou that art worship'd in Dodona's Grove;
From all thy sacred Trees fierce Flames remove:
Preserve this Groaning Branch, O hear my Prayer,
Spare me this one, this one poor Billet spare,
That having many Fires and Flames withstood,
Its antient Testimonial may last good
In future Times to prove, I once had Wood.
When Men in Bonfires did their Firing waste;
Yet still my Monumental Log did last.
To begging Boys it was not made a Prey
On the King's Birth or Coronation Day.
Why with those Oaks, under whose sacred Shade
Charles was preserv'd, should any Fire be made?
At last a Frost, a dismal Frost there came,
Like that which made a Market upon Thame:
Unruly Company would then have made
Fire with this Log, whilst thus its Owner pray'd.
Thou that art worship'd in Dodona's Grove;
From all thy sacred Trees fierce Flames remove:
491
Spare me this one, this one poor Billet spare,
That having many Fires and Flames withstood,
Its antient Testimonial may last good
In future Times to prove, I once had Wood.
To Laura, in imitation of Petrarch.
At sight of murder'd Pompey's Head
Cæsar forgets his Sex and State,
And whilst his generous Tears are shed,
Wishes he had at least a milder Fate.
Cæsar forgets his Sex and State,
And whilst his generous Tears are shed,
Wishes he had at least a milder Fate.
At Absalom's untimely Fall
David with Grief his Conquest views;
Nay weeps for unrelenting Saul,
And in soft Verse the mournful Theme pursues.
David with Grief his Conquest views;
Nay weeps for unrelenting Saul,
And in soft Verse the mournful Theme pursues.
492
The mightier Laura from Love's Darts secure,
Beholds the Thousand Deaths that I endure,
Each Death made horrid with most cruel Pain;
Yet no frail Pity in her Looks appears,
Her Eyes betray no careless Tears,
But persecute me still with Anger and Disdain.
Beholds the Thousand Deaths that I endure,
Each Death made horrid with most cruel Pain;
Yet no frail Pity in her Looks appears,
Her Eyes betray no careless Tears,
But persecute me still with Anger and Disdain.
To the Right Honourable the late Earl of ****** upon his disputing publickly at Christ-Church in Oxford.
Muse, to thy Master's Lodgings quickly fly,
Entrance to Thee his Goodness won't deny:
With due Submission tell him you are mine,
And that you trouble him with this Design,
Exactly to inform his noble Youth
Of what you heard just now from vanquisht Truth.
Entrance to Thee his Goodness won't deny:
With due Submission tell him you are mine,
And that you trouble him with this Design,
493
Of what you heard just now from vanquisht Truth.
Conquer'd, undone! 'Tis strange that there should be
In this Confession Pleasure ev'n to me.
With well wrought Terms my Hold I strongly barr'd,
And rough Distinctions were my surly Guard.
Whilst I, sure of my Cause, this Strength possess,
A noble Youth advancing with Address,
Led glittering Falshood on with so much Art,
That I soon felt sad Omens in my Heart.
Words with that Grace, said I, must needs persuade;
I find my self insensibly betray'd.
Whilst he pursues his Conquest, I retreat,
And by that Name wou'd palliate my Defeat.
In this Confession Pleasure ev'n to me.
With well wrought Terms my Hold I strongly barr'd,
And rough Distinctions were my surly Guard.
Whilst I, sure of my Cause, this Strength possess,
A noble Youth advancing with Address,
Led glittering Falshood on with so much Art,
That I soon felt sad Omens in my Heart.
Words with that Grace, said I, must needs persuade;
I find my self insensibly betray'd.
494
And by that Name wou'd palliate my Defeat.
But here methinks I do the Prospect see
Of all those Triumphs he prepares for me,
When Vertue, or when Innocence opprest
Fly for sure Refuge to his gen'rous Breast;
When with a noble Mien his Youth appears,
And gentle Voice persuades the list'ning Peers.
Judges shall wonder when he cleans the Laws,
Dispelling Mists, which long have hid their Cause,
Then by his Aid, Aid that can never fail,
Ev'n I, tho' conquer'd now, shall sure prevail:
Thousands of Wreaths to me he shall repay
For that one Laurel Error wears to day.
Of all those Triumphs he prepares for me,
When Vertue, or when Innocence opprest
Fly for sure Refuge to his gen'rous Breast;
When with a noble Mien his Youth appears,
And gentle Voice persuades the list'ning Peers.
Judges shall wonder when he cleans the Laws,
Dispelling Mists, which long have hid their Cause,
Then by his Aid, Aid that can never fail,
Ev'n I, tho' conquer'd now, shall sure prevail:
Thousands of Wreaths to me he shall repay
For that one Laurel Error wears to day.
495
A Gentleman to his Wife.
When your kind Wishes first I sought,
'Twas in the Dawn of Youth:
I toasted you, for you I fought,
But never thought of Truth.
'Twas in the Dawn of Youth:
I toasted you, for you I fought,
But never thought of Truth.
You saw how still my Fire encreas'd;
I griev'd to be deny'd:
You said, till I to wander ceas'd
You'd guard your Heart with Pride.
I griev'd to be deny'd:
You said, till I to wander ceas'd
You'd guard your Heart with Pride.
I that once feign'd too many Lies,
In height of Passion swore
By you and other Deities,
That I would range no more.
In height of Passion swore
By you and other Deities,
That I would range no more.
496
I've sworn, and therefore now am fix'd,
No longer false and vain:
My Passion is with Honour mix'd,
And both shall ever reign.
No longer false and vain:
My Passion is with Honour mix'd,
And both shall ever reign.
The Mad Lover.
I'll from my Breast tear fond Desire,
Since Laura is not mine:
I'll strive to cure the amorous Fire,
And quench the Flame with Wine.
Since Laura is not mine:
I'll strive to cure the amorous Fire,
And quench the Flame with Wine.
Perhaps in Groves and cooling Shade
Soft Slumbers I may find:
There all the Vows to Laura made
Shall vanish with the Wind.
Soft Slumbers I may find:
There all the Vows to Laura made
Shall vanish with the Wind.
497
The speaking Strings and charming Song
My Passion may remove:
Oh Musick will the Pain prolong,
And is the Food of Love.
My Passion may remove:
Oh Musick will the Pain prolong,
And is the Food of Love.
I'll search Heav'n, Earth, Hell, Seas, and Air,
And that shall set me free:
Oh Laura's Image will be there
Where Laura will not be.
And that shall set me free:
Oh Laura's Image will be there
Where Laura will not be.
My Soul must still endure the Pain,
And with fresh Torment rave:
For none can ever break the Chain
That once was Laura's Slave.
And with fresh Torment rave:
For none can ever break the Chain
That once was Laura's Slave.
498
The Soldier's Wedding.
A Soliloquy by Nan Thrasherwell, being part of a Play call'd The New Troop.
O My Dear Thrasherwell, you're gone to Sea,
And Happiness must ever banish'd be
From our Flock-bed, our Garret, and from me.
Perhaps he is on Land at Portsmouth now
In the Embraces of some Hamshire Sow,
Who with a wanton Pat, cries, Now, my Dear,
You're wishing for some Wapping Doxy here.
Pox on them all—But most on Bouncing Nan,
With whom the Torments of my Life began:
She is a Bitter one—You lye, you Rogue;
You are a treacherous, false, ungrateful Dog.
Did not I take you up without a Shirt?
Woe worth the Hand that scrub'd off all your Dirt!
Did not my Interest list you in the Guard?
And had not you Ten Shillings, my Reward?
Did I not then, before the Serjeant's face,
Treat Jack, Tom, Will, and Martin, with Disgrace?
And Thrasherwell before all others chuse,
When I had the whole Regiment to louse.
Curs'd be the Day when you produc'd your Sword,
The just Revenger of your injur'd Word:
The Martial Youth round in a Circle stood,
With envious Looks of Love, and itching Blood.
You with some Oaths that signify'd Consent
Cry'd Tom is Nan's, and o'er the Sword you went.
Then I with some more Modesty would step:
The Ensign thump'd my Bum, and made me leap.
I leap'd indeed, and you prevailing Men
Leave us no Power of leaping back agen.
And Happiness must ever banish'd be
From our Flock-bed, our Garret, and from me.
Perhaps he is on Land at Portsmouth now
In the Embraces of some Hamshire Sow,
Who with a wanton Pat, cries, Now, my Dear,
You're wishing for some Wapping Doxy here.
Pox on them all—But most on Bouncing Nan,
With whom the Torments of my Life began:
She is a Bitter one—You lye, you Rogue;
You are a treacherous, false, ungrateful Dog.
499
Woe worth the Hand that scrub'd off all your Dirt!
Did not my Interest list you in the Guard?
And had not you Ten Shillings, my Reward?
Did I not then, before the Serjeant's face,
Treat Jack, Tom, Will, and Martin, with Disgrace?
And Thrasherwell before all others chuse,
When I had the whole Regiment to louse.
Curs'd be the Day when you produc'd your Sword,
The just Revenger of your injur'd Word:
The Martial Youth round in a Circle stood,
With envious Looks of Love, and itching Blood.
You with some Oaths that signify'd Consent
Cry'd Tom is Nan's, and o'er the Sword you went.
500
The Ensign thump'd my Bum, and made me leap.
I leap'd indeed, and you prevailing Men
Leave us no Power of leaping back agen.
The Old Cheese.
Young
Slouch the Farmer had a jolly Wife,
That knew all the Conveniencies of Life
Whose Diligence and Cleanliness supply'd
The Wit which Nature had to him deny'd:
But then she had a Tongue that would be heard,
And make a better Man than Slouch afeard.
This made censorious Persons of the Town
Say, Slouch could hardly call his Soul his own:
For if he went abroad too much, she'd use
To give him Slippers, and lock up his Shoes.
Talking he lov'd, and ne'er was more afflicted
Than when he was disturb'd or contradicted:
Yet still into his Story she would break
With, 'Tis not so—Pray give me leave to speak.
His Friends thought this was a Tyrannick Rule,
Not differing much from calling of him, Fool;
Told him he must exert himself, and be
In fact the Master of his Family.
He said, that the next Tuesday Noon would shew
Whether he were the Lord at home, or no;
When their good Company he would entreat
To well-brewd Ale, and clean, if homely, Meat.
With aking Heart home to his Wife he goes,
And on his Knees does his rash Act disclose,
And prays dear Sukey, that one Day, at least,
He might appear as Master of the Feast.
I'll grant your Wish, cries she, that you may see
'Twere Wisdom to be govern'd still by me.
The Guests upon the Day appointed came,
Each bowsy Farmer with his simp'ring Dame.
Hoe! Sue! cries Slouch, why dost not thou appear?
Are these thy Manners when Aunt Snap is here?
I pardon ask, says Sue; I'd not offend
Any my Dear invites, much less his Friend.
Slouch by his Kinsman Gruffy had been taught
To entertain his Friends with finding fault,
And make the main Ingredient of his Treat
His saying there was nothing fit to eat:
The boil'd Pork stinks, the Rost Beef's not enough,
The Bacon's rusty, and the Hens are tough;
The Veal's all Rags, the Butter's turn'd to Oil;
And thus I buy good Meat for Sluts to spoil.
'Tis we are the first Slouches ever sate
Down to a Pudding without Plums or Fat.
What Teeth or Stomach's strong enough to feed
Upon a Goose my Grannum kept to breed.
Why must old Pidgeons, and they stale, be drest?
When there's so many squab ones in the Nest?
This Beer is sowre, this musty, thick, and stale,
And worse than any thing, except the Ale.
That knew all the Conveniencies of Life
Whose Diligence and Cleanliness supply'd
The Wit which Nature had to him deny'd:
But then she had a Tongue that would be heard,
And make a better Man than Slouch afeard.
This made censorious Persons of the Town
Say, Slouch could hardly call his Soul his own:
For if he went abroad too much, she'd use
To give him Slippers, and lock up his Shoes.
501
Than when he was disturb'd or contradicted:
Yet still into his Story she would break
With, 'Tis not so—Pray give me leave to speak.
His Friends thought this was a Tyrannick Rule,
Not differing much from calling of him, Fool;
Told him he must exert himself, and be
In fact the Master of his Family.
He said, that the next Tuesday Noon would shew
Whether he were the Lord at home, or no;
When their good Company he would entreat
To well-brewd Ale, and clean, if homely, Meat.
With aking Heart home to his Wife he goes,
And on his Knees does his rash Act disclose,
And prays dear Sukey, that one Day, at least,
He might appear as Master of the Feast.
I'll grant your Wish, cries she, that you may see
'Twere Wisdom to be govern'd still by me.
502
Each bowsy Farmer with his simp'ring Dame.
Hoe! Sue! cries Slouch, why dost not thou appear?
Are these thy Manners when Aunt Snap is here?
I pardon ask, says Sue; I'd not offend
Any my Dear invites, much less his Friend.
Slouch by his Kinsman Gruffy had been taught
To entertain his Friends with finding fault,
And make the main Ingredient of his Treat
His saying there was nothing fit to eat:
The boil'd Pork stinks, the Rost Beef's not enough,
The Bacon's rusty, and the Hens are tough;
The Veal's all Rags, the Butter's turn'd to Oil;
And thus I buy good Meat for Sluts to spoil.
'Tis we are the first Slouches ever sate
Down to a Pudding without Plums or Fat.
503
Upon a Goose my Grannum kept to breed.
Why must old Pidgeons, and they stale, be drest?
When there's so many squab ones in the Nest?
This Beer is sowre, this musty, thick, and stale,
And worse than any thing, except the Ale.
Sue all this while many Excuses made,
Some things she own'd, at other times she laid
The Fault on Chance, but oftner on the Maid.
Then Cheese was brought: Says Slouch, This e'en shall roll:
I'm sure 'tis hard enough to make a Bowl:
This is Skim-Milk, and therefore it shall go,
And this, because 'tis Suffolk, follow too.
But now Sue's Patience did begin to wast,
Nor longer could Dissimulation last.
Pray let me rise, says Sue; my Dear, I'll find
A Cheese perhaps may be to Lovy's Mind.
Then in an Entry, standing close, where he
Alone, and none of all his Friends might see;
And brandishing a Cudgel he had felt,
And far enough on this Occasion smelt;
I'll try, my Joy, she cry'd, if I can please
My Dearest with a Taste of his Old Cheese.
Slouch turn'd his Head, saw his Wife's vig'rous Hand
Weilding her Oaken Sapling of Command,
Knew well the Twang: Is't the Old Cheese, my Dear?
No need, no need of Cheese, cries Slouch, I'll swear:
I think I've din'd as well as my Lord Mayor.
Some things she own'd, at other times she laid
The Fault on Chance, but oftner on the Maid.
Then Cheese was brought: Says Slouch, This e'en shall roll:
I'm sure 'tis hard enough to make a Bowl:
This is Skim-Milk, and therefore it shall go,
And this, because 'tis Suffolk, follow too.
But now Sue's Patience did begin to wast,
Nor longer could Dissimulation last.
504
A Cheese perhaps may be to Lovy's Mind.
Then in an Entry, standing close, where he
Alone, and none of all his Friends might see;
And brandishing a Cudgel he had felt,
And far enough on this Occasion smelt;
I'll try, my Joy, she cry'd, if I can please
My Dearest with a Taste of his Old Cheese.
Slouch turn'd his Head, saw his Wife's vig'rous Hand
Weilding her Oaken Sapling of Command,
Knew well the Twang: Is't the Old Cheese, my Dear?
No need, no need of Cheese, cries Slouch, I'll swear:
I think I've din'd as well as my Lord Mayor.
505
The Skillet.
Two Neighbours, Clod and Jolt, would marry'd be;
But did not in their Choice of Wives agree.
Clod thought a Cuckold was a monstrous Beast
With two huge glaring Eyes, and spreading Crest;
Therefore resolving never to be such,
Married a Wife none but himself could touch.
Jolt thinking Marriage was decreed by Fate,
Which shews us whom to love, and whom to hate,
To a young handsom jolly Lass made Court,
And gave his Friends convincing Reason for't,
That since in Life such Mischief must he had,
Beauty had something still that was not bad.
Within two Months Fortune was pleas'd to send
A Tinker to Clod's House with, Brass to mend.
The good Old Wife survey'd the brawny Spark,
And found his Chine was large, tho' Count'nance dark.
First she appears in all her Airs, then tries
The squinting Efforts of her amorous Eyes.
Much Time was spent, and much Desire exprest:
At last the Tinker cry'd, Few Words are best;
Give me that Skillet then, and if I'm true,
I dearly earn it for the Work I do.
They 'greed; they parted: On the Tinker goes
With the same Stroke of Pan, and Twang of Nose,
Till he at Jolt's beheld a sprightly Dame
That set his native Vigour all on flame.
He looks, sighs, faints, at last begins to cry,
And can you then let a young Tinker die?
Says she give me your Skillet then, and try.
My Skillet! Both my Heart and Skillet take;
I wish it were a Copper for your sake.
After all this not many Days did pass
Clod sitting at Jolt's House, survey'd the Brass
And glittering Pewter standing on the Shelf.
Then, after some gruff Muttering with himself,
Cry'd, Prithee, Jolt, how came that Skillet thine?
You know as well as I, quoth Jolt, 't'en't mine;
But I'll ask Nan. 'Twas done; Nan told the matter
In truth as 'twas; then cry'd, You've got the better:
For tell me, Dearest, whether would you chuse
To be a Gainer by me, or to lose.
As for our Neighbour Clod, this I dare say,
We've Beauty and a Skillet more than they.
But did not in their Choice of Wives agree.
Clod thought a Cuckold was a monstrous Beast
With two huge glaring Eyes, and spreading Crest;
Therefore resolving never to be such,
Married a Wife none but himself could touch.
Jolt thinking Marriage was decreed by Fate,
Which shews us whom to love, and whom to hate,
To a young handsom jolly Lass made Court,
And gave his Friends convincing Reason for't,
That since in Life such Mischief must he had,
Beauty had something still that was not bad.
Within two Months Fortune was pleas'd to send
A Tinker to Clod's House with, Brass to mend.
506
And found his Chine was large, tho' Count'nance dark.
First she appears in all her Airs, then tries
The squinting Efforts of her amorous Eyes.
Much Time was spent, and much Desire exprest:
At last the Tinker cry'd, Few Words are best;
Give me that Skillet then, and if I'm true,
I dearly earn it for the Work I do.
They 'greed; they parted: On the Tinker goes
With the same Stroke of Pan, and Twang of Nose,
Till he at Jolt's beheld a sprightly Dame
That set his native Vigour all on flame.
He looks, sighs, faints, at last begins to cry,
And can you then let a young Tinker die?
Says she give me your Skillet then, and try.
My Skillet! Both my Heart and Skillet take;
I wish it were a Copper for your sake.
507
Clod sitting at Jolt's House, survey'd the Brass
And glittering Pewter standing on the Shelf.
Then, after some gruff Muttering with himself,
Cry'd, Prithee, Jolt, how came that Skillet thine?
You know as well as I, quoth Jolt, 't'en't mine;
But I'll ask Nan. 'Twas done; Nan told the matter
In truth as 'twas; then cry'd, You've got the better:
For tell me, Dearest, whether would you chuse
To be a Gainer by me, or to lose.
As for our Neighbour Clod, this I dare say,
We've Beauty and a Skillet more than they.
508
The Fisherman.
Tom
Banks by native Industry was taught
The various Arts how Fishes might be caught.
Sometimes with trembling Reed and single Hair,
And Bait conceal'd, he'd for their Death prepare,
With melancholy Thoughts and downcast Eyes,
Expecting till Deceit had gain'd its Prize.
Sometimes in Riv'let quick and Water clear
They'd meet a Fate more generous from his Spear.
To Baskets oft he'd pliant Oziers turn,
Where they might Entrance find, but no Return.
His Net well pois'd with Lead he'd sometimes throw,
Encircling thus his Captives all below.
But when he would a quick Destruction make,
And from afar much larger Booty take,
He'd through the Stream, where most descending, set
From side to side his strong capacious Net;
And then his rustick Crew with mighty Poles
Would drive his Prey out from their owzy Holes,
And so pursue 'em down the rolling Flood,
Gasping for Breath, and almost choak'd with Mud,
'Till they, of farther Passage quite bereft,
Were in the Mash with Gills entangl'd left.
Trot, who liv'd down the Stream, ne'er thought his Beer
Was good, unless he had his Water clear;
He goes to Banks, and thus begins his Tale:
Lord! if you knew but how the People rail:
They cannot boil, nor wash, nor rense, they say,
With Water sometimes Ink and sometimes Whey,
According as you meet with Mud or Clay.
Besides, my Wife these six Months could not brew,
And now the Blame of this all's laid on you;
For it will be a dismal thing to think
How we old Trots must live and have no Drink:
Therefore I pray some other Method take
Of Fishing, were it only for our sake.
Says Banks, I'm sorry it should be my Lot
Ever to disoblige my Gossip Trot:
Yet 't'en't my Fault; but so 'tis Fortune tries one
To make his Meat become his Neighbour's Poison,
And so we pray for Winds upon this Coast,
By which on t'other Navies may be lost.
Therefore in patience rest, tho' I proceed:
There's no Ill-nature in the case, but Need.
Tho' for your Use this Water will not serve,
I'd rather you shou'd choke than I shou'd starve.
The various Arts how Fishes might be caught.
Sometimes with trembling Reed and single Hair,
And Bait conceal'd, he'd for their Death prepare,
With melancholy Thoughts and downcast Eyes,
Expecting till Deceit had gain'd its Prize.
Sometimes in Riv'let quick and Water clear
They'd meet a Fate more generous from his Spear.
To Baskets oft he'd pliant Oziers turn,
Where they might Entrance find, but no Return.
His Net well pois'd with Lead he'd sometimes throw,
Encircling thus his Captives all below.
But when he would a quick Destruction make,
And from afar much larger Booty take,
509
From side to side his strong capacious Net;
And then his rustick Crew with mighty Poles
Would drive his Prey out from their owzy Holes,
And so pursue 'em down the rolling Flood,
Gasping for Breath, and almost choak'd with Mud,
'Till they, of farther Passage quite bereft,
Were in the Mash with Gills entangl'd left.
Trot, who liv'd down the Stream, ne'er thought his Beer
Was good, unless he had his Water clear;
He goes to Banks, and thus begins his Tale:
Lord! if you knew but how the People rail:
They cannot boil, nor wash, nor rense, they say,
With Water sometimes Ink and sometimes Whey,
According as you meet with Mud or Clay.
510
And now the Blame of this all's laid on you;
For it will be a dismal thing to think
How we old Trots must live and have no Drink:
Therefore I pray some other Method take
Of Fishing, were it only for our sake.
Says Banks, I'm sorry it should be my Lot
Ever to disoblige my Gossip Trot:
Yet 't'en't my Fault; but so 'tis Fortune tries one
To make his Meat become his Neighbour's Poison,
And so we pray for Winds upon this Coast,
By which on t'other Navies may be lost.
Therefore in patience rest, tho' I proceed:
There's no Ill-nature in the case, but Need.
Tho' for your Use this Water will not serve,
I'd rather you shou'd choke than I shou'd starve.
511
A Case of Conscience.
Old
Paddy Scot, with none of the best Faces,
Had a most knotty Pate at solving Cases;
In any Point could tell you to a Hair
When was a Grain of Honesty to spare.
It happen'd, after Prayers, one certain Night,
At home he had occasion for a Light
To turn Socinas, Lessius, Escobar,
Fam'd Covarruvias, and the Great Navarre:
And therefore as he from the Chapel came
Extinguishing a yellow Taper's Flame,
By which just now he had devoutly pray'd,
The useful Remnant to his Sleeve convey'd.
There happen'd a Physician to be by,
Who thither came but only as a Spy,
To find out others Faults, but let alone
Repentance for the Crimes that were his own.
This Doctor follow'd Paddy, said he lackt
To know what made a sacrilegious Fact.
Paddy with studious Gravity replies,
That's as the Place, or as the Matter lies:
If from a Place unsacred you should take
A sacred thing, this Sacrilege would make;
Or an unsacred thing from sacred Place,
There would be nothing different in the Case;
But if both Thing and Place should sacred be,
'Twere height of Sacrilege, as Doctors all agree.
Then says the Doctor, for more light in this
To put a special Case were not amiss.
Suppose a Man should take a Common Pray'r
Out of a Chapel where there's some to spare.
A Common Pray'r, says Paddy, that would be
A Sacrilege of an intense degree.
Suppose that one should in these Holydays
Take thence a Bunch of Rosemary or Bays;
I'd not be too censorious in that Case,
But 'twould be Sacrilege still from the place.
What if a Man should from the Chapel take
A Taper's end: should he a Scruple make,
If homewards to his Chambers he should go,
Whether 'twere Theft, or Sacrilege, or no?
The sly Insinuation was perceiv'd,
Says Paddy, Doctor you may be deceiv'd,
Unless in Cases you distinguish right,
But this may be resolv'd at the first Sight.
As to the Taper it could be no Theft,
For it had done its Duty, and was left.
And Sacrilege in having it is none,
Because that in my Sleeve I now have one.
Had a most knotty Pate at solving Cases;
In any Point could tell you to a Hair
When was a Grain of Honesty to spare.
It happen'd, after Prayers, one certain Night,
At home he had occasion for a Light
To turn Socinas, Lessius, Escobar,
Fam'd Covarruvias, and the Great Navarre:
And therefore as he from the Chapel came
Extinguishing a yellow Taper's Flame,
By which just now he had devoutly pray'd,
The useful Remnant to his Sleeve convey'd.
There happen'd a Physician to be by,
Who thither came but only as a Spy,
512
Repentance for the Crimes that were his own.
This Doctor follow'd Paddy, said he lackt
To know what made a sacrilegious Fact.
Paddy with studious Gravity replies,
That's as the Place, or as the Matter lies:
If from a Place unsacred you should take
A sacred thing, this Sacrilege would make;
Or an unsacred thing from sacred Place,
There would be nothing different in the Case;
But if both Thing and Place should sacred be,
'Twere height of Sacrilege, as Doctors all agree.
Then says the Doctor, for more light in this
To put a special Case were not amiss.
Suppose a Man should take a Common Pray'r
Out of a Chapel where there's some to spare.
A Common Pray'r, says Paddy, that would be
A Sacrilege of an intense degree.
513
Take thence a Bunch of Rosemary or Bays;
I'd not be too censorious in that Case,
But 'twould be Sacrilege still from the place.
What if a Man should from the Chapel take
A Taper's end: should he a Scruple make,
If homewards to his Chambers he should go,
Whether 'twere Theft, or Sacrilege, or no?
The sly Insinuation was perceiv'd,
Says Paddy, Doctor you may be deceiv'd,
Unless in Cases you distinguish right,
But this may be resolv'd at the first Sight.
As to the Taper it could be no Theft,
For it had done its Duty, and was left.
And Sacrilege in having it is none,
Because that in my Sleeve I now have one.
514
The Constable.
One Night a Fellow wandring without Fear,
As void of Money as he was of Care,
Considering both were wash'd away with Beer.
With Strap the Constable by Fortune meets,
Whose Lanthorns glare in the most silent Streets.
Resty, impatient any one should be
So bold as to be drunk that Night but He:
Stand. Who goes there, cries Strap, at Hours so late.
Answer. Your Name, or else have at your Pate.
I wo'nt stand, 'cause I can't. Why must you know
From whence 'tis that I come or where I go?
See here my Staff, cries Strap, trembling behold
Its radiant Paint, and ornamental Gold:
Wooden Authority when thus I weild
Persons of all Degrees obedience yield.
Then be you the best Man in all the City,
Mark me! I to the Counter will commit ye.
You! Kiss, and so forth. For that never spare,
If that be all, commit me if you dare;
No Person yet, either through Fear or Shame
Durst commit me that once had heard my Name.
Pray then, what is't? My Name's Adultery,
And, Faith, your future Life would pleasant be
Did your Wife know you once committed me.
As void of Money as he was of Care,
Considering both were wash'd away with Beer.
With Strap the Constable by Fortune meets,
Whose Lanthorns glare in the most silent Streets.
Resty, impatient any one should be
So bold as to be drunk that Night but He:
Stand. Who goes there, cries Strap, at Hours so late.
Answer. Your Name, or else have at your Pate.
I wo'nt stand, 'cause I can't. Why must you know
From whence 'tis that I come or where I go?
515
Its radiant Paint, and ornamental Gold:
Wooden Authority when thus I weild
Persons of all Degrees obedience yield.
Then be you the best Man in all the City,
Mark me! I to the Counter will commit ye.
You! Kiss, and so forth. For that never spare,
If that be all, commit me if you dare;
No Person yet, either through Fear or Shame
Durst commit me that once had heard my Name.
Pray then, what is't? My Name's Adultery,
And, Faith, your future Life would pleasant be
Did your Wife know you once committed me.
516
Little Mouths.
From
London, Paul the Carrier coming down
To Wantage, meets a Beauty of the Town,
They both accost with Salutation pretty,
As how do'st Paul? Thank ye, and how do'st Betty?
Didst see our Jack, nor Sister? No, you've seen,
I warrant, none but those who saw the Queen.
Many words spoke in jest, says Paul, are true,
I came from Windsor, and if some Folks knew
As much as I it might be well for you.
Lord, Paul! what is't? why give me something for't,
This Kiss, and this. The matter's then in short,
The Parliament have made a Proclamation,
Which will this Week be sent all round the Nation;
That Maids with little Mouths do all prepare
On Sunday next to come before the Mayor,
And that all Batchelors be likewise there.
For Maids with little Mouths shall, if they please,
From these young Men choose two apeice.
Betty with bridled Chin extends her Face,
And then contracts her Lips with simpring Grace,
Cries, Hem! pray what must all the huge ones do
For Husbands, when we little Mouths have two?
Hold, not so fast, cries he, pray pardon me,
Maids with huge gaping wide Mouths must have three.
Betty distorts her Face with hideous Squawl,
And Mouth of a Foot wide begins to bawl,
Oh! Ho! Is't so? The Case is alter'd Paul.
Is that the Point? I wish the Three were Ten,
I warrant I'd find Mouth if they'll find Men.
To Wantage, meets a Beauty of the Town,
They both accost with Salutation pretty,
As how do'st Paul? Thank ye, and how do'st Betty?
Didst see our Jack, nor Sister? No, you've seen,
I warrant, none but those who saw the Queen.
Many words spoke in jest, says Paul, are true,
I came from Windsor, and if some Folks knew
As much as I it might be well for you.
Lord, Paul! what is't? why give me something for't,
This Kiss, and this. The matter's then in short,
517
Which will this Week be sent all round the Nation;
That Maids with little Mouths do all prepare
On Sunday next to come before the Mayor,
And that all Batchelors be likewise there.
For Maids with little Mouths shall, if they please,
From these young Men choose two apeice.
Betty with bridled Chin extends her Face,
And then contracts her Lips with simpring Grace,
Cries, Hem! pray what must all the huge ones do
For Husbands, when we little Mouths have two?
Hold, not so fast, cries he, pray pardon me,
Maids with huge gaping wide Mouths must have three.
518
And Mouth of a Foot wide begins to bawl,
Oh! Ho! Is't so? The Case is alter'd Paul.
Is that the Point? I wish the Three were Ten,
I warrant I'd find Mouth if they'll find Men.
Hold Fast below.
There was a Lad th' unluckiest of his Crew,
Was still contriving something bad, but new.
His Comrades all Obedience to him paid,
In executing what Designs he laid,
'Twas they should rob the Orchard, He'd retire,
His Foot was safe whilst theirs was in the Fire.
He kept 'em in the Dark to that degree,
None should presume to be as wise as he,
But being at the top of all Affairs,
The Profit was his own, the Mischief theirs;
There fell some Words made him begin to doubt,
The Rogues would grow so wise to send him out;
He was not pleas'd with this, and so next day
He cries to 'em as going just to play:
What a rare Jack-daw's Nest is there, look up,
You see 'tis almost at the Steeples Top.
Ah, says another, we can have no Hope
Of getting thither t'it without a Rope.
Says then the sleering Spark with courteous Grin,
By which he drew his Infant Cullies in;
Nothing more easie; did you never see
How in a Swarm Bees hanging Bee by Bee,
Make a long sort of Rope below the Tree.
Why mayn't we do the same, good Mr. John?
For that Contrivance pray let me alone.
Tom shall hold Will, you Will, and I'll hold you,
And then I warrant you the thing will do.
But if there's any does not care to try,
Let us have no Jackdaws, and what care I!
That touch'd the Quick, and so they soon comply'd,
No Argument like that was e'er deny'd,
And therefore instantly the thing was try'd.
They hanging down on Strength above depend,
Then to himself mutters their trusty Friend,
The Dogs are almost useless grown to me,
I ne'er shall have such Opportunity
To part with 'em; and so e'en let 'em go.
Then cries aloud: So ho! my Lads! so ho!
You're gone, unless ye all hold fast below.
They've serv'd my turn, so 'tis fit time to drop 'em,
The Devil, if he wants 'em, let him stop 'em.
Was still contriving something bad, but new.
His Comrades all Obedience to him paid,
In executing what Designs he laid,
'Twas they should rob the Orchard, He'd retire,
His Foot was safe whilst theirs was in the Fire.
He kept 'em in the Dark to that degree,
None should presume to be as wise as he,
519
The Profit was his own, the Mischief theirs;
There fell some Words made him begin to doubt,
The Rogues would grow so wise to send him out;
He was not pleas'd with this, and so next day
He cries to 'em as going just to play:
What a rare Jack-daw's Nest is there, look up,
You see 'tis almost at the Steeples Top.
Ah, says another, we can have no Hope
Of getting thither t'it without a Rope.
Says then the sleering Spark with courteous Grin,
By which he drew his Infant Cullies in;
Nothing more easie; did you never see
How in a Swarm Bees hanging Bee by Bee,
Make a long sort of Rope below the Tree.
520
For that Contrivance pray let me alone.
Tom shall hold Will, you Will, and I'll hold you,
And then I warrant you the thing will do.
But if there's any does not care to try,
Let us have no Jackdaws, and what care I!
That touch'd the Quick, and so they soon comply'd,
No Argument like that was e'er deny'd,
And therefore instantly the thing was try'd.
They hanging down on Strength above depend,
Then to himself mutters their trusty Friend,
The Dogs are almost useless grown to me,
I ne'er shall have such Opportunity
521
Then cries aloud: So ho! my Lads! so ho!
You're gone, unless ye all hold fast below.
They've serv'd my turn, so 'tis fit time to drop 'em,
The Devil, if he wants 'em, let him stop 'em.
The Beggar Woman.
A Gentleman in Hunting rode astray,
More out of choice, then that he lost his way,
He let his Company the Hare pursue,
For he himself had other Game in view.
A Beggar by her Trade; yet not so mean,
But that her Cheeks were fresh and Linen clean.
Mistress, qouoth he, and what if we two shou'd
Retire a little way into the Wood.
She needed not much Courtship to be kind,
He ambles on before, she trots behind;
For little Boby to her Shoulders bound,
Hinders the gentle Dame from ridding Ground,
He often ask'd her to expose, but she
Still fear'd the coming of his Company.
Says she I know an unfrequented place,
To the left Hand, where we our time may pass,
And the mean while your Horse may find some Grass.
Thither they come and both the Horse secure,
Then thinks the Squire I have the matter sure.
She's ask'd to sit, but then Excuse is made,
Sitting, says she's not usual in my Trade;
Should you be rude, and then should throw me down,
I might perhaps break more Backs than my own.
He smiling cries; come, I'll the Knot untie,
And if you mean the Child's we'll lay it by.
Says she, that can't be done, for then 'twill cry.
I'd not have us, but chiefly for your sake,
Discover'd by the hideous Noise 'twou'd make.
Use is another Nature, and 'twou'd lack
More then the Breast, its Custom to the Back.
Then says the Gentleman, I shou'd be loth
To come so far and disoblige ye both:
Were the Child ty'd to me d'ye think 'twou'd do?
Mighty well, Sir! Oh, Lord! if ty'd to you!
With Speed incredible to work she goes,
And from her Shoulders soon the Burthen throws.
Then mounts the Infant with a gentle Toss
Upon her generous Friend, and like a Cross,
The Sheet she with a dextrous Motion winds,
Till a firm Knot the wand'ring Fabrick binds.
The Gentleman had scarce got time to know
What she was doing; she about to go,
Cries, Sir, good buy ben't angry that we part,
I trust the Child to ye with all my Heart,
But e'er you get another 'ti'n't amiss
To try a Year or two how you'll keep this.
More out of choice, then that he lost his way,
He let his Company the Hare pursue,
For he himself had other Game in view.
A Beggar by her Trade; yet not so mean,
But that her Cheeks were fresh and Linen clean.
522
Retire a little way into the Wood.
She needed not much Courtship to be kind,
He ambles on before, she trots behind;
For little Boby to her Shoulders bound,
Hinders the gentle Dame from ridding Ground,
He often ask'd her to expose, but she
Still fear'd the coming of his Company.
Says she I know an unfrequented place,
To the left Hand, where we our time may pass,
And the mean while your Horse may find some Grass.
Thither they come and both the Horse secure,
Then thinks the Squire I have the matter sure.
She's ask'd to sit, but then Excuse is made,
Sitting, says she's not usual in my Trade;
523
I might perhaps break more Backs than my own.
He smiling cries; come, I'll the Knot untie,
And if you mean the Child's we'll lay it by.
Says she, that can't be done, for then 'twill cry.
I'd not have us, but chiefly for your sake,
Discover'd by the hideous Noise 'twou'd make.
Use is another Nature, and 'twou'd lack
More then the Breast, its Custom to the Back.
Then says the Gentleman, I shou'd be loth
To come so far and disoblige ye both:
Were the Child ty'd to me d'ye think 'twou'd do?
Mighty well, Sir! Oh, Lord! if ty'd to you!
With Speed incredible to work she goes,
And from her Shoulders soon the Burthen throws.
524
Upon her generous Friend, and like a Cross,
The Sheet she with a dextrous Motion winds,
Till a firm Knot the wand'ring Fabrick binds.
The Gentleman had scarce got time to know
What she was doing; she about to go,
Cries, Sir, good buy ben't angry that we part,
I trust the Child to ye with all my Heart,
But e'er you get another 'ti'n't amiss
To try a Year or two how you'll keep this.
525
The Vestry.
Within the Shire of Nottingham there lies
A Parish fam'd, because the Men were wise:
Of their own Strain they had a Teacher sought,
Who all his Life was better fed than taught.
It was about a quarter of a Year
Since he had snoar'd and eat, and fatn'd there,
When he the House-keepers, their Wives and all,
Did to a sort of Parish Meeting call;
Promising something, which well understood,
In little time wou'd turn to all their good:
When met he thus harangues: Neighbours I find,
That in your Principles you're well enclin'd,
But then you're all sollicitous for Sunday,
None seem to have a due regard for Monday,
Most People then their Dinners have to seek,
As if 'twere not the first Day of the Week;
But when you have hash'd Meat and nothing more
You only curse the Day that went before.
On Tuesday all Folks dine by one Consent,
And Wednesdays only fast by Parliament,
But Fasting sure by Nature ne'er was meant.
The Market will for Thursday find a Dish,
And Friday is a proper Day for Fish,
After Fish, Saturday requires some Meat,
On Sunday you're oblig'd by Law to treat;
And the same Law ordains a Pudding then
To Children grateful, nor unfit for Men.
Take Hens, Geese, Turkies, then or something light,
Because their Legs, if broil'd, will serve at Night,
And since I find that roast Beef makes you sleep,
Corn it a little more, and so 'twill keep.
Roast it on Monday, pity it should be spoil'd,
On Tuesday Mutton either roast or boil'd.
On Wednesday shou'd be some Variety,
A Loin, or Breast of Veal, and Pidgeon Pye.
On Thursday each Man of his Dish make choice,
'Tis fit on Market Days we all rejoice.
And then on Friday, as I said before,
We'll have a Dish of Fish, and one Dish more.
On Saturday stew'd Beef with something nice,
Provided quick, and toss'd up in a trice,
Because that in the Afternoon you know,
By Custom we must to the Ale-House go;
For else how shou'd our Houses e'er be clean,
Except we gave some time to do it then.
From whence, unless we value not our Lives,
None part without remembring first our Wives.
But these are standing Rules for ev'ry Day,
And very good ones, as I so may say:
After each Meal let's take a hearty Cup,
And where we dine 'tis fitting that we sup.
A Parish fam'd, because the Men were wise:
Of their own Strain they had a Teacher sought,
Who all his Life was better fed than taught.
It was about a quarter of a Year
Since he had snoar'd and eat, and fatn'd there,
When he the House-keepers, their Wives and all,
Did to a sort of Parish Meeting call;
Promising something, which well understood,
In little time wou'd turn to all their good:
When met he thus harangues: Neighbours I find,
That in your Principles you're well enclin'd,
526
None seem to have a due regard for Monday,
Most People then their Dinners have to seek,
As if 'twere not the first Day of the Week;
But when you have hash'd Meat and nothing more
You only curse the Day that went before.
On Tuesday all Folks dine by one Consent,
And Wednesdays only fast by Parliament,
But Fasting sure by Nature ne'er was meant.
The Market will for Thursday find a Dish,
And Friday is a proper Day for Fish,
After Fish, Saturday requires some Meat,
On Sunday you're oblig'd by Law to treat;
And the same Law ordains a Pudding then
To Children grateful, nor unfit for Men.
Take Hens, Geese, Turkies, then or something light,
Because their Legs, if broil'd, will serve at Night,
527
Corn it a little more, and so 'twill keep.
Roast it on Monday, pity it should be spoil'd,
On Tuesday Mutton either roast or boil'd.
On Wednesday shou'd be some Variety,
A Loin, or Breast of Veal, and Pidgeon Pye.
On Thursday each Man of his Dish make choice,
'Tis fit on Market Days we all rejoice.
And then on Friday, as I said before,
We'll have a Dish of Fish, and one Dish more.
On Saturday stew'd Beef with something nice,
Provided quick, and toss'd up in a trice,
Because that in the Afternoon you know,
By Custom we must to the Ale-House go;
For else how shou'd our Houses e'er be clean,
Except we gave some time to do it then.
528
None part without remembring first our Wives.
But these are standing Rules for ev'ry Day,
And very good ones, as I so may say:
After each Meal let's take a hearty Cup,
And where we dine 'tis fitting that we sup.
Now for the Application, and the Use,
I found your Care for Sunday an Abuse,
All wou'd be asking, Pray Sir where d'you dine,
I have roast Beef, choice Venison, Turky, Chine,
Every one's hawling me, then say poor I,
It is a bitter Business to deny;
But, who is't cares for fourteen Meals a Day,
As for my own part I had rather stay,
And take 'em now,—and then—and here—and there,
According to my present Bill of Fare.
You know I'm single, if you all agree
To treat by Turns, each will be sure of me.
I found your Care for Sunday an Abuse,
All wou'd be asking, Pray Sir where d'you dine,
I have roast Beef, choice Venison, Turky, Chine,
Every one's hawling me, then say poor I,
It is a bitter Business to deny;
But, who is't cares for fourteen Meals a Day,
As for my own part I had rather stay,
529
According to my present Bill of Fare.
You know I'm single, if you all agree
To treat by Turns, each will be sure of me.
The Vestry all applauded with a Hum,
And the seven wisest of them bid him come.
And the seven wisest of them bid him come.
530
The Monarch.
When the young People ride the Skimmington,
There is a general trembling in a Town.
Not, only he, for whom the Person rides
Suffers, but they sweep other Doors besides;
And by that Hieroglyphick does appear
That the good Woman is the Master there.
At Jenny's Door the barbarous Heathens swept,
And his poor Wife scolded until she wept,
The Mob swept on, whilst she sent forth in vain
Her vocal Thunder and her Briney Rain.
Some few Days after two young Sparks came there,
And whilst she does her Coffee fresh prepare,
One for discourse of News the Master calls,
T'other on this ungrateful Subject falls.
Pray, Mrs. Jenny, whence came this Report,
For I believe there's no great Reason for't,
As if the Folks t'other Day swept your Door,
And half a dozen of your Neighbours more.
There's nothing in't, says Jenny, that is done,
Where the Wife Rules, but here I rule alone,
And Gentlemen you'd much mistaken be,
If any one shou'd not think that of me.
Within these Walls my suppliant Vassals know
What due Obedience to their Prince they owe,
And kiss the Shadow of my Papal Toe.
My Word's a Law, when I my Power advance,
There's not a greater Monarch ev'n in France.
Not the Mogul or Czar of Muscovy,
Not Prester John, or Cham of Tartary,
Are in their Houses Monarch more than I.
My House my Castle is, and here I'm King,
I'm Pope, I'm Emperor, Monarch, every Thing.
What, tho' my Wife be only Partner of my Bed,
The Monarch's Crown sets only on this Head.
His Wife had plaguy Ears, as well as Tongue,
And hearing all, thought his Discourse too long,
Her Conscience said he shou'd not tell such Lies,
And to her Knowledge such, she therefore cries,
D'ye hear—you—Sirrah—Monarch—There—come down
And grind the Coffee—or I'll Crack your Crown.
There is a general trembling in a Town.
Not, only he, for whom the Person rides
Suffers, but they sweep other Doors besides;
And by that Hieroglyphick does appear
That the good Woman is the Master there.
At Jenny's Door the barbarous Heathens swept,
And his poor Wife scolded until she wept,
The Mob swept on, whilst she sent forth in vain
Her vocal Thunder and her Briney Rain.
Some few Days after two young Sparks came there,
And whilst she does her Coffee fresh prepare,
531
T'other on this ungrateful Subject falls.
Pray, Mrs. Jenny, whence came this Report,
For I believe there's no great Reason for't,
As if the Folks t'other Day swept your Door,
And half a dozen of your Neighbours more.
There's nothing in't, says Jenny, that is done,
Where the Wife Rules, but here I rule alone,
And Gentlemen you'd much mistaken be,
If any one shou'd not think that of me.
Within these Walls my suppliant Vassals know
What due Obedience to their Prince they owe,
And kiss the Shadow of my Papal Toe.
My Word's a Law, when I my Power advance,
There's not a greater Monarch ev'n in France.
Not the Mogul or Czar of Muscovy,
Not Prester John, or Cham of Tartary,
Are in their Houses Monarch more than I.
532
I'm Pope, I'm Emperor, Monarch, every Thing.
What, tho' my Wife be only Partner of my Bed,
The Monarch's Crown sets only on this Head.
His Wife had plaguy Ears, as well as Tongue,
And hearing all, thought his Discourse too long,
Her Conscience said he shou'd not tell such Lies,
And to her Knowledge such, she therefore cries,
D'ye hear—you—Sirrah—Monarch—There—come down
And grind the Coffee—or I'll Crack your Crown.
533
The Incurious.
A Virtuoso had a mind to see
One that would never discontented be,
But in a careless way to all agree.
He had a Servant much of Æsop's Kind
Of Personage uncouth but sprightly Mind,
Humpus, says he, I order that you find
Out such a Man, with such a Character,
He, in this Paper now I give you here,
Or I will lug your Ears, or crack your Pate,
Or rather you shall meet with a worse Fate,
For I will break your Back, and set you strait.
Bring him to Dinner. Humpus soon withdrew,
Was safe, as having such a one in view
At Covent Garden Dial, whom he found
Sitting with Thoughtless Air, and Look profound,
Who solitary gaping without Care,
Seem'd to say; who is't? will go any where?
Says Humpus, Sir, my Master bad me pray
Your Company to dine with him to Day.
He snuffs; then follows; up the Stairs he goes,
Never pulls his of his Hat, nor cleans his Shoes,
But looking round him saw a handsom Room,
And did not much repent him he was come;
Close to the Fire he draws an Elbow Chair,
And lolling easie does for Sleep prepare.
In comes the Family, but he sits still,
Thinks, let them take the other Chairs that will.
The Master thus accosts him, “Sir, you'r Wet,
“Pray have a Cushion underneath your Feet.
Thinks he if I do spoil it need I care,
I see he has eleven more to spare.
Dinner's brought up the Wife is bid retreat,
And at the upper End must be his Seat.
This is not very usual thinks the Clown,
But is not all the Family his own,
And why should I for Contradictions sake
Lose a good Dinner, which he bids me take.
If from his Table she discarded be,
What need I care, there is the more for me.
After a while the Daughter's bid to stand,
And bring him whatsoever he'll command.
Thinks he the better from the fairer Hand.
Young Master next must rise to fill him Wine,
And starve himself to see the Booby dine:
He do'st. The Father asks what have you there.
How dare you give a Stranger Vinegar?
Sir, 'twas Champagne I gave him; Sir, indeed!
Take him and scourge him till the Rascal bleed,
Don't spare him for his Tears nor Age, I'll try
If Cat and Nine Tails can excuse a Lye.
Thinks the Clown that 'twas Wine I do believe,
But such young Rogues are aptest to deceive,
He's none of mine but his own Flesh and Blood,
And how know I but 't may be for his good.
When the Desert came on, and Jellies brought,
Then was the dismal Scene of finding Fault,
They were such hideous, filthy poisonous stuff,
Could not be rail'd at, nor reveng'd enough.
Humpus was ask'd who made 'em. Trembling he
Said. “Sir, it was my Lady gave 'em me.
I'll take care she shall no more Poison give,
I'll burn the Witch; t'n't fitting she shou'd live,
Set Faggots in the Court, I'll make her fry,
And pray, good Sir, may't please you to be by.
Then smiling, says the Clown upon my Life,
A pretty Fancy this to burn ones Wife.
And since that really is your Design,
Pray let me just step Home, and fetch you Mine.
One that would never discontented be,
But in a careless way to all agree.
He had a Servant much of Æsop's Kind
Of Personage uncouth but sprightly Mind,
Humpus, says he, I order that you find
Out such a Man, with such a Character,
He, in this Paper now I give you here,
Or I will lug your Ears, or crack your Pate,
Or rather you shall meet with a worse Fate,
For I will break your Back, and set you strait.
Bring him to Dinner. Humpus soon withdrew,
Was safe, as having such a one in view
At Covent Garden Dial, whom he found
Sitting with Thoughtless Air, and Look profound,
534
Seem'd to say; who is't? will go any where?
Says Humpus, Sir, my Master bad me pray
Your Company to dine with him to Day.
He snuffs; then follows; up the Stairs he goes,
Never pulls his of his Hat, nor cleans his Shoes,
But looking round him saw a handsom Room,
And did not much repent him he was come;
Close to the Fire he draws an Elbow Chair,
And lolling easie does for Sleep prepare.
In comes the Family, but he sits still,
Thinks, let them take the other Chairs that will.
The Master thus accosts him, “Sir, you'r Wet,
“Pray have a Cushion underneath your Feet.
Thinks he if I do spoil it need I care,
I see he has eleven more to spare.
Dinner's brought up the Wife is bid retreat,
And at the upper End must be his Seat.
535
But is not all the Family his own,
And why should I for Contradictions sake
Lose a good Dinner, which he bids me take.
If from his Table she discarded be,
What need I care, there is the more for me.
After a while the Daughter's bid to stand,
And bring him whatsoever he'll command.
Thinks he the better from the fairer Hand.
Young Master next must rise to fill him Wine,
And starve himself to see the Booby dine:
He do'st. The Father asks what have you there.
How dare you give a Stranger Vinegar?
Sir, 'twas Champagne I gave him; Sir, indeed!
Take him and scourge him till the Rascal bleed,
Don't spare him for his Tears nor Age, I'll try
If Cat and Nine Tails can excuse a Lye.
536
But such young Rogues are aptest to deceive,
He's none of mine but his own Flesh and Blood,
And how know I but 't may be for his good.
When the Desert came on, and Jellies brought,
Then was the dismal Scene of finding Fault,
They were such hideous, filthy poisonous stuff,
Could not be rail'd at, nor reveng'd enough.
Humpus was ask'd who made 'em. Trembling he
Said. “Sir, it was my Lady gave 'em me.
I'll take care she shall no more Poison give,
I'll burn the Witch; t'n't fitting she shou'd live,
Set Faggots in the Court, I'll make her fry,
And pray, good Sir, may't please you to be by.
Then smiling, says the Clown upon my Life,
A pretty Fancy this to burn ones Wife.
And since that really is your Design,
Pray let me just step Home, and fetch you Mine.
FINIS.
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