Scarronnides :: :: University of Virginia Library

Scarronnides

or, Virgile Travestie. A Mock-Poem, On the First and Fourth Books of Virgils Aenaeis in English, Burlbesque [by Charles Cotton]

Cotton, Charles (1630-1687)

[epigraph]

IV.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

VIRGILE Travestie.

The First Book.

I Sing the man, (read it who list,
A Trojan true as ever pist)
Who from Troy Town, by wind and weather
To Italy, (and God knows whither)
Was packt, and wrackt, and lost, and tost,
And bounc'd from Pillar unto Post.
Long wandred he through thick and thin;
Half roasted now; now wet to th' skin;
By Sea and Land; by Day and Night;
Forc'd (as 'tis said) by the God's spite:
Although the wiser sort suppose
'Twas by an old Grudge of Juno's,
A Murrain curry all Curst Wives!
He needs must go, the Devil drives.

Much suffer'd he likewise in War,
Many dry blows, and many a scar:

Many a Rap, and much ado
At Quarter-staff, and Cudgels too,
Before he could be quiet for 'um:
(Pox of all Knaves, for I abhor 'um)
But this same Yonker at the last,
(All Brawls and Squabbles over-past)
And all these Rake-hells over-come,
Did build a pretty Grange call'd Rome

But oh my Muse! put me in mind,
To which o'th' Gods was he unkind?
Or what the Plague did Juno mean,
(That cross-grain'd, peevish, scolding Quean,
That scratching, cater-wawling Puss)
To use an Honest Fellow thus?
(To curry him like Pelts at Tanners)
Have Goddesses no better manners?
A little Town there was of Old,
Thatcht with good Straw to keep out Cold,
Hight Carthage, which (if not bely'd)
Was by the Tyrians occupy'd;
The lustiest Carles all thereabouts,
Rich Chuffs, and very sturdy Louts.

Now this same Carthage you must know,
Juno did love out of all whoe:
There are alive that yet will swear it,
No Village like it, no place near it:
Except a place (forsooth) that's famous
For her own Birth, a Farm call'd Samos;
Here she her Trinkets kept, and odd things,
Her Needles, Poking-sticks, and Bodkins;
And here, (in house which her own Key locks)
She us'd to keep her Coach and Peacocks.

This place then mainly pleas'd her humor:
But she had heard a scurvy rumor;
That Trojans, arm'd in Coats of Chamlet,
Should one day overthrow her Hamlet:
Plunder her Chests, Joynt-stools and Tables,
And burn her Cow-houses and Stables.
She fearful of this sad Prediction,
(Which prov'd a true one, and no Fiction)
And mindful of her injur'd Honour,
When Paris gave the Apple from her;

Did many years bend her devotion,
To drown Æneas on the Ocean;
And many a slippery trick she play'd him,
Till Jove at last o're Sea convey'd him;
So hard it is, where an old Grutch is,
To get out of a Womans Clutches.

Æneas had not been o'th water
Above an hour, or such a matter;

Nor further row'd, then we may rate
'Twixt Parsons-Dock and Billingsgate,
Or say betwixt Dover and Calice,
When Juno (full of her old Malice)
Thus with her self began to mutter,
Cannot I drown these Crows i'th' Gutter?
Must they go on fearing no Colours?
And cannot I squander their Scullers?
Must these same Trojan Rascals nose me,
Because the Fates (forsooth) oppose me?
Pallas could burn Wherries, and Gallies,
And clatter Mortals Bones like Tallies:
But I, Jove's Sister, and his Wife,
Can do no Mischief for my life.

Juno enrag'd, and fretting thus,
Runs me unto one Æolus:
This Æolus, as Stories tell us,
Could backward blow like a Smiths Bellows;
A Day, a Week, a Moneth together,
And by his farting, make foul weather:
Blow Men, and Trees, and Houses down:
Great Ships, and almost Fishes drown.
He was, in fine, the loud'st of Farters:
Yet could command his hinder quarters,
Correct his Tail, and only blow,
If there occasion were, or so:
Whom Jove observing to be so stern,
In the wise conduct of his Postern,
He made him King of all the Puffers,
Which he (because he knew them Huffers)
Durst nowhere venture, I must tell ye,
But in the Caverns of his Belly:
Which having but one Postern Gate
For these mad Boys to sally at,
He might the faster peg them in,
And by the plucking out a Pin,
Then (at his ease) Arsing about,
To any Quarter, let them out.

To this same King, Queen Juno posted,
And thus in flatt'ring Terms accosted.

Thou mighty King, whose potent sway
The Lawless Blust'rers do obey;
Whose nod the stubborn'st winds do dread;
(Even although in Scotland bred.)
Thou, whose unruly Empire reaches
As far as the wide Compass stretches,
Hear a poor Queens Request, and say
Thou'lt do't; for I must have no Nay.
There are a few Tatter-de-malions
That (with a pox) would be Italians,
And into Latium now are going,
With Oars, and Skulls, tugging, and rowing:
A Crew of drunken roaring Ruffins,
Lewd, wandring, sturdy Ragamuffins;
Rascals, I hate, as I do Garlick,
And yet the Rogues are stout and warlike:
If therefore, thou wilt smoak these Roysters
And sowse them all, like pickled Oysters,

There is a pretty Maid of Mine,
Called Die, shall be thy Concubine.
Æolus hearkned to this Story,
With no small Pride, no little Glory;
To have a Queen, so gay and trim,
Come to request a Boon of him!
But th' Wench, i'th' tail of the Preamble,
Oh that! That made his Bowels wamble.
(And Wind you know (under Correction)
Is a main Causer of Ejection)
He, listning stood, wrigling, and scraping,
But durst not bow, for fear of scaping;
Until at last, with Cap in hand Sir,
He thus return'd with modest Answer.
O Queen (quoth he) my thanks are real,
That you will use your Servant Æol:
And should I not pay your Civility,
To th' utmost of my poor Ability,
Who are great Joves Sister and Wife,
It were e'ne pity of my Life.
I'll play these Rake-hells such a Hunts up,
Shall make them glad to turn their Rumps up.
Say you no more, the Thing is done;
I'll drown 'em ev'ry Mothers Son.
But since your Grace is nice of smelling,
I wish you were at your own dwelling;

There's Reason for't (saving your favour)
For truly (Madam) I shall savour.
But I beseech your Grace, in no wise
Forget the Woman, that you promise.
Juno at that, away does goe
As swift as Arrow out of Bow,
And in less while, then I am speaking,
Was got as high, as top of

Mons Salopiensis

Reking:
No bigger now then School-boys Kite,
And now clean vanisht out of sight.

Æol, who all this while stood gaping,
At her fine Peacocks gawdy-trapping,
Seeing her Mount Olympus stair-case,
Began t' untruss to ease his Carcase.
Twice belch't he loud from lungs of leather,
To call his roaring Troops together:
And twice (as who should say, We come)
They roar'd i'th concave of his Womb:
With that he turns his Buttock Seaward,
And with a Gibing kind of Nayword;
Quoth he, Blind Harpers, have among ye;
'Tis Ten to One but I bedung ye.
At that same word, lifting one leg,
And pulling out his trusty peg;

He let at once his General Muster
Of all that ere could blow, or bluster;
And (like a Coxcomb) in his Tuel
Left not one puff to cool his Gruel.
Have you not seen below the Sphear
A mortal drink call'd Bottle-Bear,
How, by the Tapster when the Stopple
Is ravish't from the teeming Bottle,
It bounces, foams, and froths, and flitters,
As it were troubled with the squitters?
Even so, when Æol pluckt the plugg
From th' Muzzle of his double Jugg,
The Winds burst out with such a rattle,
As he had broke the strings that twattle.

Bounce cries the Port-hole, out they fly,
And make the World dance Barnaby;
Throughout the Seas, and Coasts they wander;
One Boreas was their chief Commander;
A huffing Jack, a plund'ring Tearer,
A vap'ring Scab, and a great Swearer.

This Fellow, and his boist'rous Rout,
Finds Me o'th' Sea, the Trojans out.

Æneas, and his Wandring Mates
Were, at that time, angling for Sprats;

Thinking no harm, no more then we do,
(For all was fine and fair to see too)
When all o'th' sudden; who would think it!
(By this good drink, I mean to drink it!)
It grew so dark, that wanting light,
They could not feel the Fishes bite;
And strait ere one could say, What's this?
The winds began to howl and hiss,
And in the turning of a hand Sir,
They grew so big, one could not stand Sir.
Then followed Rain, Lightning, and Thunder,
As the whole world would fly asunder.
Æneas, hearing the winds threatning,
And

By the Lightning

seeing Monstrous Billows beating,
Knowing they purpos'd to dispatch him,
And that the Haddocks watcht to catch him,
Fell presently in a cold sweat,
So sick he could not drink nor eat,
'Twas all the World to Twenty Pound,
He had not fall'n into a swound:
But by Joves favour being blest,
With Guts in's head above the rest;
Like to a cunning Chapman, He
Made Virtue of Necessity;
And in the midst of all Despairs,
Thought it his best to fall to Pray'rs;
With woful heart, and blubber'd eyes,
Lifting his Mutton fists to th' skies,

He therefore pray'd, O Jupiter,
Either hear now, or never hear;
Now, now, thy Trusty Trojans cherish,
Help now, or never, else we perish.
Could not Tydides at Troy Town
Should he be hang'd, once knock me down?
Nor yet the merry Greek Achilles,
When he kill'd lusty Hector, kill These?
And must we now be sent for Dishes,
To Sharks, and such like greedy Fishes?

Thus went he on with his Orisons,
Which if you mark them well were wise ones,
Now praying, now expostulating,
But he might e'en have held his prating;
For Jove if he had been more near him,
The noise was such, could no wayes hear him.
The winds grew louder still and louder,
And play'd their Gambals with a Powder;
Then, then indeed began the pudder,
Here an Oar broke, and there a Rudder;
Here a Boat kicking on the Surges,
And there one sinking in a Gurges.

Three Boats a Wind, call'd Notus Russels,
Upon a paltry bed of Mussels,
And there did roaring Eurus dable ye,
In Quick-sand deep most lamentably.
One Wherry that the Lycians carried,
And one Orontes never married,
Was just about the time of Dinner,
O're-whelm'd, and all the men within her.
Orontes, though he was confounded,
Yet very loath to be thus drowned;
Did all he could with might and main,
To have swom back to land again.
His skill he to the trial puts,
But could not do it for his Guts:
And therefore was souc't up for Cod fish;
(I doubt he prov'd but very odd-fish.)

Now might you see the Trojans trimming
Upon the Foaming billows swimming:
Sculls, Oars, and Stretchers, with their Benches,
Floating amongst the Rowling Trenches;

Hats, Caps, and Cassocks, Bands and Ruffs,
(Indeed I think they wore no Cuffs:)
Balk-staves & Cudgels, Pikes and Truncheons,
Brown-bread & cheese that swam by luncheons,
With Treasure past all Mortals matching,
That any man might have for fetching.
In the mean time, this hurly-burly,
That still increas'd more loud and surly,
Rous'd Neptune with the strange Commotion,
Who liv'd i'th' bottom of the Ocean.

This Neptune was of old a Fisher,
And to Æneas a well-wisher:
'Cause on a time, Venus, that bore him,
Spoke a good word to her Father for him,
And made him for his good Conditions,
King over all his Pools, and Fish-ponds.

This Blade; when first he heard the Sea ring,
Was pickling Pilchards, Sprats, and Herring;
But at the noise he throws his Tray,
Fishes, and salt, and all away.
And taking up his three fork't Trout-spear,
Hey, hey, (quoth he) what a brave rout's here.

Under his Arms he had two Bladders,
By which he mounted without Ladders,
And thrusting's head above the Water,
Says, What a vengeance ho's the matter?
Then seeing round how things were vary'd,
And how the Trojans had miscarry'd;
He strait began to smell a Rat,
And soon perceiv'd what they'd be at:
For he knew all Juno's contriving,
And spite as well as any living.

Have you not seen upon a River
A Water-dog, that is a Diver,
Bring out his Mallard, and eft-soons
Be-shake his shaggy Pantaloons?
So Neptune when he first appears,
Shakes the salt Liquor from his ears,
And made the Winds themselves to doubt him,
He threw the Water so about him:
Vext at the Plucks to see this clutter,
He scarce could speak, but spurt and sputter;
Till beck'ning Zephyrus, and Eurus,
He thus began in Language furious.
How durst you Rogues take the opinion
To vapour here in my Dominion,

Without my leave, and make a lurry,
That men cannot be quiet for ye!
Rascals I shall!—But well! go too,
I now have something else to do:
If e'r again I catch you creaking,
'Tis odds I spoil your Bag-pipes squeaking.
And Sirrah, you there: Goodman

Speaking to Boreas himself.

Blaster,
Go tell that farting Fool your Master,
That such a whistling scab as he,
Was ne'r cut out to rule the Sea;
But that it to my Empire fell;
Bid him go vapour in his Cell;
There let him puff and domineer,
But make no more such foisting here:
And for what's past, (if my aim miss not)
I'll teach him fizzle in my Piss-pot.

Scarce had he bubbled out his Sentence,
But that they fled to shew repentance,
And he that erst had made a din most,
Now cry'd, the Devil take the hindmost.
Even as a flock of Geese do flutter,
When crafty Reynard comes to Supper:
So nimbly flew away these Scoundrels,
Glad they had scap'd, and sav'd their poundrels.

Now all was fair again and frolick,
The Sea no more troubled with Cholick,
The Sun shone bright, as on a May-day;
Had there been grass, one might have made hay:
But yet some Boats stuck on the Flats,
Their men all dasht like Water-Rats;
Neptune at that his speed re-doubles,
To ease them of their peck of Troubles:
He thrust his Muck-fork in two faddom,
Betwixt the Boats and that that staid 'um,
And lifted them shier off as clever,
As he had had a Crow or Leaver;
Now Sirs (quoth he) you may go forward,
And row East, West, or South, or Norward.
If the Rogues come again, I'll swill 'um;
I love a Dog that comes from Ilium;
And you Æneas and your men,
If e'r you come this way again,
I hope you'l call, or I'st be sorry,
I'll have a Dish of Lobsters for ye.
Æneas who was gentle-hearted,
Scrap'd him a leg, and so they parted.

They take their Sculls again and ply 'um,
Hanging their Jerkins out to dry 'um:
Away they cut as swift as Swallows,
Plowing the Sea, as men do Fallows;

Till e'r a man could well tell Ten,
Or go to th' door and back again,
They all as plainly saw the other
Side, as we now see one another:
Then there old tugging was, and pulling;
Never such plying and such sculling;
They whoop't and sung gladder and gladder;
I think March-hares were never madder.
At last, all dangers notwithstanding,
They came unto a place of Landing;
A pair of Stairs they found, not Big Stairs;
Just such another pair as Trigg Stairs:
Not made for Water men, but Women
That use to come and wash their Linnen:
There was old striving then, and thrusting,
Which with their Sculler should get first in.
Sirs (quoth Æneas) shew some breeding,
Let's have no more haste than good speeding;
Have patience Gentles, I implore ye,
And let your betters go before ye.
With that they all gave place, and reason,
It else had been no less than Treason:

Whilest our Æneas at two leapings,
Set the first foot upon the steppings;
Then all the rest came in a bundle,
As they would burst each others Trundle:
Weary they were, the Wind had douc't 'um,
And so they sate 'um down and lows'd 'um.

After a while, a fellow knocks
Fire with a Steel and Tinder-box.
For each man had his Flint and Touch-wood,
The world besides could shew no such wood;
Then sticks they gather, leaves and bryers,
And fall a making them good fires;
Then Skellets, Pans, and Posnets put on
To make them Porridge without Mutton.

In the mean time Æneas got him
Up to a Hill, to look about him,
And as he there a while stood gazing,
He saw some sheep below him grazing.

Oh ho (quoth he) I'll soon be wy'ye,
Be sworn I'm glad at heart to see ye.

This said, away my youth does go,
And fetches strait a good Yew-Bow,
His Arrows under's Belt he sticks too,
(For he could shoot at Butts and Pricks too)
His head he put a good Steel Cap on,
Because he knew not what might happen:
And thus as if he went to battle,
He goes to murder poor mens Cattle.

His Arrow in the string he nocks,
And shoots among the harmless Flocks;
These prov'd by chance to be the fairest,
But he still shot at that was nearest.
Seven Lordly Tups he wounded mortal,
The other shots he made, were short all:
These to his hungry Mates he lurries,
(Pray what's his due that Mutton worries?)
Here lads, quoth he, here's sides & haunches,
Fall too, and fill your empty paunches.

Scarce had he made an end of boasting,
But some to boyling fell, some roasting;

'Twas soon enough, and to't they fall,
They eat up Mutton, guts and all;
Yet scarce could satisfie their hungers;
These Trojans were such Mutton-mongers.

There was by chance a stoop of Liquor,
Corkt up in Bottles made of Wicker,
Giv'n by my Hostess, I conceive,
When first Æneas took his leave:
This drink (to make their feast the fuller)
Æneas fetcht out of his Sculler,
And like a man had something in him,
Gave it as free as e'r 'twas gi'n him;
Himself a Dish he first pour'd out,
For fear it would not go about;
Then stroaking up his whiskers greasie,
He thus begins in words most easie.
Here Lads, have at ye, and be merry,
W'are got at last, safe o're the Ferry;
And though w'ave had but angry wark, yet
Let's make the best of a bad market:
To day let's drink, and hang to morrow,
A grain of mirth's worth pounds of sorrow;

Be blith and jolly then, as may be,
Faint heart, you know, ne'r won fair Lady:
What though a while we fair but hardly,
Yet in the end does our reward lie:
We shall have Houses, Lands, and Doxies,
With dainty patches, where no Pox is:
And then all this, that seems t'undo us,
Will be but sport and pastime to us.

Thus did this subtle Fornicator
Set a good Face on a bad matter;
As who would make 'um understand
How pretty a fellow he was on's hand;
When I (for all's brave n'alls) must tell ye,
His Heart then panted in his Belly,
Down glides his Ale over his pallat,
As glib as 't been Oyl of Sallet;
And all the rest in their due order
Quafft till their Drink would go no further.

Now having spent their drink and vittles,
They rise, and wipe their greasie Thwittles,

And streaking them began to mind 'um,
Of those were left at Sea behind 'um:
With that Æneas made a motion
To climb the Hills, and look on th' Ocean,
If from the Cliffs, and Promontories,
They might espie their fellow Tories;
At that they went, some this, some that way,
Some went not farr, and some a great way;
Some whoopt, some hallow'd, and some shouted,
Some thought 'um safe, and others doubted;
Some laid their ears to ground in cunning,
To list if they could hear 'um coming;
But all in vain, for none could spye 'um,
They feard their friends, when none was nie 'um
At last by General Approbation,
They lay'd 'um down, as was the fashion,
And slept, being tyr'd with pains, and feasting;
When Belly's full, Bones would be resting.

Asleep they lie snorting and snoring,
With such a noise as made the shore ring,
Or such a din as Dogs do utter,
When they by night together clutter;
Snarling and swearing in lewd fashion,
For Bitch of evil Conversation:
When Jove, who was belike at leisure,
(Walking, or for his health, or pleasure)

Looking about on ev'ry side him,
O'th' Lybian Coasts at last espy'd them,
And said in merry kind of Japing,
Indeed Sirs, have I ta'ne you napping?
Scarce had he spoke, when all oth' sudden,
Whilest he was on the Trojans stud'ing;
Who should come there to do her duty,
But Venus that was Queen of Beauty!

See Servius upon Virgil.

This Venus without counterfeiting,
Was a fine Lass on's own begetting,
Thou ne'r saw'st prettier in thy life,
Although he had her not by's Wife,
But by a Fish-wench he was kind to,
And so she came in at the Window:
Now Venus was Æneas' Mother,
And him she had by such another
Royster as Jove was, when on Groundsel
He and her Mother met in Counsel;
In the behalf then of her by-blow,
Which had endured many a dry-blow,
She weeping came, sighing and throbbing,
And hardly could she speak for sobbing:
Until at last, with a fine Linning
Wrought round with blew, of her own spinning,
Wiping her face with tears and snivel,
She thus began in words most civil.

O thou, of Gods, and men, the King,
That canst do any kind of thing;
That past their wits dost Mortals frighten,
When thou or thunder do'st, or lighten:
What could Æneas do to thee?
Who car'st a fart for no body;
Or the poor Trojans, what have they done,
That thus they still must Fools be made on,
And that thou wilt for no perswasions
Let them go follow their occasions?
I'm sure you promis'd me, and swore it,
(Ev'n let who can forgive you for it)
That you would make 'um, This, and That,
Kings, Captains, and I know not what;
And that out of your Bounteous Givings,
They should have all both Lands, and Livings,
And all live well in Italy;
But I perceive 'twas all a lye.

Jove (stroaking up his great Mustachoes)
Smil'd for to see her so out-ragious,
(For had she broke a Pot, or Platter,
He could not well be angry at her,

He lov'd her so, and 'tis so common,
Either in Man, or else in Woman;
Their Bastards they will clip and kiss ye,
More dearly then their lawful Issue.)
Jove looking then most sweetly at her,
(For she had made his Mouth to water)
Took Venus by the Chin, and gave her
A Kiss of no unwelcome savour.

My pretty Wench (quoth he) I prethee,
Let's have no more such puling with thee:
All shall be well enough, ne'r fear it;
And by my Beard once more I swear it,
Thy Son Æneas, thou dost doubt so,
Which makes thee whimper, cry, and pout so,
Shall be a King, or Prince at least;
I speak in earnest, not in jest.
With that he whistled out most mainly,
You might have heard his Fist as plainly
From one side of the Skie to th' other,
As you and I hear one another.
Thrice whistled he, when by and by,
Out came his Foot-boy Mercury,
And askt him without more ado,
What 'twas he whistled for, and who?

This Merc'ry you must understand Sir,
Had formerly been a Rope-Dancer:
A nimble Rascal, and a Dapper,
Full deftly could he cut a Caper,

See Plaut. in Amphytr.

Dance, run, and leap, frisk and curvet,
Tumble, and do the Sommerset:
And fly with artificial Wings
Ty'd to his head and heels with strings:
'Twas he first taught to fly i'th' Air,
As we have seen at Bartle-Fair;
A nimble witty Knave, I warrant,
And one that well could say his Errant;
An ex'lent servant (in plain-dealing)
But that he was enclin'd to stealing.

Sirrah (quoth Jove) go take your Pumps,
And haste to Carthage, stir your stumps;
And as thou art a cunning Prater,
Play me the fine Insinuator.
Dido and all her Carthaginians
Possess throughout with kind opinions
Of the poor Trojans, lest Queen Dido
Not knowing things so well as I do,
Should shew 'um all a Trick of Pass-pass,
And chance t'indict them for a Trespass.

Away he flies sans further speech,
As he had had a Squib in's breech;

And suddenly without discerning
Set all the Trojans Bowels yearning.
Dido for her part swore a Trojan
Should do the Feat for her, or no man.

Mean while the Trojans slept at ease,
Unless sometimes bit by white Fleas,
Their soft Repose in quiet taking,
Only Æneas he was waking,
Who whilest the night was dark and ore-cast,
Like one that had an ex'lent fore-cast,
Lay thinking now his Guts grew limber,
How they might get more Belly-timber:
No sooner the Light first came creeping,
But that he cry'd, Ah Fool! art peeping?
And up he starts to go a stealing,
Either a Mutt'ning or a Vealing;
And yet he thought being a stranger,
To go alone might be some danger;
Therefore he deem'd it not amiss
To call a Trusty Friend of his;
And that he might go on the bolder,
He laid a Two-hand bat on's shoulder.

Thus going then abroad for food,
He meets his Mother in a Wood;

So smug she was, and so array'd,
He took his Mother for a Maid:
A great mistake in her, whose Bum
So oft had been god Mars his Drum:
Full oft when Smug was blowing Bellows,
Would she be trucking with good Fellows;
And let her self be chuckt as tamely,
As if therein there did no blame lye,
By Mars, and many a one beside,
Or else she fowly is bely'd.
Well met (young man) quoth Venus kindly,
As you came through the Woods behind ye.
Pray did you not, for all your haste, note
A Lass in Petti-coat and Wast-coat;
With such a Pelt as mine thrown o're her,
Driving a Sow and Pigs before her?

No truly, (quoth Æneas mild)
I saw nor Man, Woman, nor Child;
Yet, though I say't, had I been nigh her,
I could as soon as others spie her:
But who art thou that speak'st so shrill,
As if thy words came through a Quill?
Thou art of gentle Kindred surely,
Thou look'st and speakest so demurely:

Therefore good Mistress or good Lady,
I do beseech you, if it may be,
To put us out of fear of Dangers,
Tell's where we are, for we are strangers.

Venus, at that, wrigling and mumping,
Cries, pray young man, leave off your frumping,
For until now I've met with no man,
E'r took me for a Gentlewoman:
She that I ask for is my Sister;
I wonder how the Pox you mist her!
We were this morning sent in haste
To fetch a Sow that lies at Mast.
Yond Town was built by one Agenor;
The Land's so good it needs no Meanor:

One Dido now is Queen on't, who
Run hither a good while ago:
She is a Queen of gentle bearing,
Whose story will be worth the hearing:
But should I tell it all out-right,
I think 'twould last a Winters night.
Therefore in short, This same Queen Did,
Who now, alass, is left a Widow!
Had one Sichæus to her Honey,
A wealthy man in Land and Money:

Whom one Pygmalion, unawares
Kill'd, as he was saying on's Prayers;
Onely for lucre of his pelf,
Which he had thought t'have had himself,
And fob'd Queen Dido off some season,
(Who cry'd and blubber'd out of reason)
By telling her a Flim flam prattle,
That he was gone to buy some Cattle:
But on a time, as without doubt,
Murther at some odd time will out,
One night as she did sleep and snore,
As she had never slept before,
Into her Chamber, dores unlocking,
Comes me her Husband without knocking:
A Link he in his hand did brandish,
His face was Paler then your Band is:
Near her came and would have kiss'd her,
At which she well nigh had be-piss'd her;
But being a Ghost of civil fashion,
He gave her Words of Consolation.

Quoth he, I murdred am, my Jewel,
By wayes most barbarous and cruel:
And for to shew I tell no Fibbs,
Look what a hole here's in my Ribbs,

And if thou stay'st, that Rogue Pygmalion
Intends to use thee like a Stallion:
Therefore be gone, thou and thy Meany,
But leave the Rascal ne'r a penny,
To bless himself; it lyes each farthing,
In an old Butter-pot i'th Garding.

Dido at this, rises up early,
And with her servants very fairly,
Not caring for Pygmalions Curses,
Steals all his Money-bags, and Purses;
And in a Boat prepar'd o'th' nonce,
Shipt all his Goods away at once,
And got off safe, whil'st all this Gear,
Was ordered by a Wastcoteer.

At last she came with all her People,
To yonder Town with the Spire-steeple,
And bought as much good feeding ground for
Five Marks, as some would give five pounds for;
Where now she lives a Huswife wary,
Has her ground stockt, and keeps a Dairy:

And now young man, I pray ye shew me
Whence do ye come, or whither go ye?

This being said, our lusty Swabber
Groan'd like a Woman in her Labour,
And looking rufully upon her,
Oh! Dame (quoth he) brim-full of Honour,
Should I begin my Story spinning,
From the first end to th' last beginning,
I doubt to finish we should miss time,
For it would last till t' morrow this time.

We Trojans are of Troy-Town Race,
(If e'r you heard of such a place.)
And I th' Æneas fam'd in Battle,
But more ador'd for Tail and Twattle:
Who bring along our Country Gods,
A company of smoakie Toads,
Catcht out o'th' fire, from the Greek
When all the Town was of a Reek;
And can derive my Pedigree,
(Although I say't) with any He,
That is perhaps fuller of Pride,
Especially by th' Mothers side.

Did my Fame never hither come?
I'm talk'd of far, and near at home;
To tell you truly as a friend,
For Italy we did intend,
And put to Sea in paltry weather,
With twenty pair of Oars together:
Of which there hardly are left seven,
Which put into the Shoar last Even.

Venus the while Æneas eying,
And seeing he could scarce hold crying;
Thus cut him off in courteous fashion
I'th' midst on's pitiful Relation:

Who e'r thou art, take heart I say,
Rome can't be built all on a Day;
And though ye' have suffered some disasters:
Yet let me tell you this, my Masters,
'Tis a good sign that those gods love ye,
For all your haste, that hither drove ye:
You might have walkt your pumps apieces,
E'r light on such a place as this is.
Go me to th' Queen now out of hand,
And shew her how your matters stand:

She'll make you welcome for her part;
She loves tall Fellows in her heart:
There on my honest word, you'll meet
Your lost Companions, I fore-see't;
And have all things that you would wish,
Or surely I was taught amiss:
(For I a Father had, could make
In time of need an Almanack)
Chear up your hearts, your spirits rally,
And ne'r stand fooling, shall I, shall I,
But budge, jogg on, bestir your Toes,
There lies your way, follow your Nose.

With that she turn'd to go away,
And did her freckled Neck display;
By which, and by a certain whiff
Came from her Arm-pits or her Cliff,
And a fine hobble in her pace,
Æneas knew his Mothers Grace:
Mother (quoth he) why dost thou run thus,
And with thy Mumming cheat thy Son thus?

Why may we not shake one another
By th' hand, and talk like Son and Mother?
Oh think upon our woful Cases,
Whilest thus we wander in strange places!

But she was gone, for when she list,
She foist away could in a Mist;
Nor could she tarry, to say truly,
For she had made a promise newly,
To meet a friend of hers to dally,
In a blind street they call Ram-Alley:
Æneas then began to find,
That there was something in the wind,
And said, My Mother's a mad shaver,
No man alive knows where to have her;
But I'd as live as half a Crown,
We two could walk so into th' Town.

Venus heard what he said, for she
Could hear, as far as we can see;
And in a moment to befriend 'um,
Two Cloaks invisible did lend 'um.

Thus cloakt, their Knavery to shelter,
Away they trudge it helter skelter,
Until Æneas and his friend,
Safely arriv'd at the Towns-end.

Æneas star'd about and wonder'd,
To see of Houses a whole hunder'd:
But when he saw the Folks were there,
He thought it had been Carthage fair.
The Town was full, all in a pother,
Some doing one thing, some another;
Some digging were, some making Mortar,
Some hewing Stones, and such a Quarter:
For they were all, as Story tells,
Building or doing something else;
And to be short, all that he sees,
Were working busily as Bees.
I'th' middle of the Town there stood
A goodly Elm o're-grown with Wood;
And under that were Stocks most duly,
To lock them fast that were unruly:
There sate they down to ease their travel,
Picking their sweaty Toes from Gravel:
And lookt about as they lay lurking,
To see the busie Tyrians working:
But none could see them for their spell,
They were so hid, they might as well,
Though they had been never so nigh 'um,
See through a double Dore as spye 'um.

Near stood the Church, a pretty Building;
Plain as a Pike-staff without gilding,
I cannot liken any to it,
Unless 't be Pancrage, if you know it.
This Church Queen Dido, 'tis related.
Built, and to Juno dedicated,
And was beholding unto none;
But built it all both stick and stone,
At her own proper cost and charges;
No Church i'th' Country near so large is:
It was well laid with Lime and Mortar:
(For so the Workmen did exhort her)
Because it would be so much stronger,
And so you know would last the longer.
It had a Dore pegg'd with a pin,
To shut Folks out, or let Folks in,
And in a pretty Wooden Steeple
A Low-Bell hung to call the People.

Æneas and his friend went thither,
Seeing a many Folks together,
Whose misty Cloaks so well did hide 'um,
That in they went and no one spy'd 'um.
But then they wonder'd to behold
The Images so manifold,

That staring stood in sundry places,
As if they would fly in their faces.
Then (quoth Æneas) to's Comrade,
This Fellow Master was on's Trade,
That pictur'd these; Look, look, as I am
An honest man, yonders our Priam;
See where he stands in Silk and Sattin,
As he could speak both Greek and Lattin.
Whoop yonders Hector too, and Troylus,
Look thee, how here the Grecians spoyl us;
And there our Trusty Trojans do
Bang them and pay them quid for quo.
Yonder Achilles gives a Rap,
With his Cocks-feather in his Cap;
And yonders one, for all's Bravado,
Knocks him with lusty Bastinado.
How came these here t'be pictur'd thus?
Sure all the World has heard of us.

Whilest thus Æneas sad and muddy,
Stood musing in a dark brown study;
In comes Queen Dido, that fair Lady,
In Apron white, as on a May-day:
A crew of Roysters waited on her,
Which there were call'd her men of Honour:
All clad in fair blew Coats, and Badges,
To whom Queen Dido paid good Wages.

Even as a proper Woman shows
When unto Wake, or Fair she goes,
Clad in her best Apparel, so
Queen Dido all this time did show,
And was so brave a Buxom Lass,
That she did all i'th' Town surpass.
Into the midst o'th' Church she marches,
And there betwixt a pair of Arches,
Upon a Stool set for the nonce,
She went to rest her Marrow-bones,
And on a Cushion stuff't with Flocks,
She clapt her dainty pair of Docks.

There Dido sate in State each day,
To hear what any one could say,
Some to rebuke, and for to smooth some;
And give out Laws, wholsome, or toothsome;
To punish such as had Insolence,
And make them good Nolens or Volens:
And there likewise each morning-tide,
She did the young Mens Tasks divide,
Wherein great Policy did lurk,
Each knew his Jobb of Journey-work,
And fell about it without Jangling:
But that which kept them most from wrangling

Was that they still drew cuts to know,
Whether they should work hard or no;
And who had th' longest cut, and th' best,
Had still more work then all the rest.

Here whilest Æneas squeez'd and thrust is,
To see Queen Dido doing Justice:
Who should he but his Fellow spie
Got into Dido's Company?
There Antheus was (no mortal fiercer)
And one Sergestus too, a Mercer,
With other Trojans that would vapour;
Cloanthus too, the Woollen-Draper:
All which, and forty Trojans more,
Were wonderfully got to shore.

At this, Æneas and his friend
Were e'n almost at their wits end;
(Z'lid Jove forgive me that I swear)
Quoth he, how think'st, how came they here?
Nay, quoth the other presently,
Æneas, what a Pox know I?

Æneas was so glad on's kin,
He ready was t'leap out on's skin,
And so was t'other, for (in sadness)
They were e'n mad, 'twixt fear and gladness:

And it seems, they were so wise,
To keep them safe in their disguise;
Until their friends had try'd th' Opinions
Of the kind-hearted Carthaginians.

At last they saw one Ileoneus,
A Trojan very Ceremonious;
A youth of very fine Condition,
A very pretty Rhetorician:
One that could write and read; and had
Been bred at Free-School from a Lad,
Thrust up to Dido in good fashion,
And thus begins his fine Oration.

O Queen, who here hast built a Village,
And keep'st thy ground in hearty Tillage:
O Thou, who hast the Royal Science,
To Govern Men as wild as Lyons,
Behold us here, who look like men,
New eaten and spew'd up again:
So spitefully has fortune crost us,
So wofully the Seas have tost us.
A few poor Trojans here you see,
Even as poor as poor may be;
Thrown on this Shore by Wind and Weather;
Ill-luck, the Devil, and altogether;

And humbly do beseech your Grace,
To pity our most woful case.
Your men are all in hurly-burly,
And look upon us grim and surly,
So that if you be not good to us,
They'll burn our Boats, and quite undo us.
Therefore we pray you send some one,
To bid 'um let our Boats alone.
Alass! we come not to purloyn,
Either your Cattle, or your Coyn,
Neither to filch Linnen or Wollen,
Nor yet to steal away your Pullen;
W'have no such knavish ends as these;
But only to beg Bread and Cheese.

We were going to a place,
A hardish kind of Name it has,
Where once your what shal's cal'ums (rot 'um!
It makes me mad I have forgot 'um)
Liv'd a great while; but now d'ye see,
'Tis known by th' name of Italy:

When on a sudden one Orion,
Powder'd upon us like a Lyon,
And squander'd us on Flats and Shelves,
Enough to make us drown our selves:
So that of sixscore men, and deft ones,
Even here (O Queen) are all are left on's.
Then what should all your Tyrians thus
To scowl and look askew at us;
Or where the Devil were they bred,
Sure ranker Clowns ne'r liv'd by Bread!
And (for to tell your Grace my thought)
I think they'r better fed then taught,
For (as I am an honest man
Let 'um deny it if they can)
No sooner landed we to bait us,
But that the Rogues threw Cow-turds at us:
But Queen, I hope, thou'lt teach the Wretches,
Henceforth to meddle with their Matches.
Æneas once did us command,
A taller fellow of his hand,

Nor honester, ne'r did, or shall,
Draw out a Trapstick to a Wall.
If he but live, and that already
He be not drowned in some eddy,
You of your cost will ne'r repent you,
For to a penny he'l content you.
Look then o'th' Trojans, and befriend 'um,
Let's draw our Boats ashore, and mend 'um.
We'll promise you, if that we meet
Our Captain with the rest o'th' Fleet,
And if he be not turn'd to a Gudgeon,
We towards Italy will trudge on;
And if that he shall still be lacking,
Then back again we'll strait be packing.
Dido like woman of good fashion,
Gave special heed to his Relation,
And all the while he did relate it,
Mump't like a Bride that would be at it.
At last, when he had told his Tale,
Mantling like Mare in Martingale,
She thus reply'd; Trojans, be cheery,
Pluck up your hearts, and rest you merry;

Our Towns-folks here are something wary:
Not that they any Ill-will bear you;
For they are very honest Fellows,
But that of late a Chance befel us.
To tell you true, the other day,
When all my folks were gone to th' hay,
A lusty Rascal, such a one
As one of you (dispraise to none)
Comes into th' yard, and off the Hedge,
Where all our Clouts, were hung to Bleach,
Whips me a Brand new Flaxen Smock,
The very best of all my stock;
And runs away wi't in a trice:
('T had ne'r been on my back past twice:
But you I know such baseness scorn,
You all are men well bred and born.
Who has not heard o'th' Trojan people,
And of Æneas and his Swipple?
Nor shall you find us Dames of Tyre,
So far remov'd from Phœbus fire;
But we can cherish lusty Yeomen,
And carry Toyes like other women.
Therefore you shall, whether you go
Straight on to Italy, or no:

Or whether you row on the Main,
To your own Parish back again,
Have what you want; nor will I dun ye,
But pay me when you can get money:
But if you'l tarry here, This Town
That I now build shall be your own;
And be as free you Trojans shall,
As any Tyrian on 'um all.
A Man's a Man, as I have read,
Though he have but a Hose on's head;
And I could wish that the same weather
That blew your tatter'd Scullers hither,
Would blow Æneas hither too,
And then there were no more to do;
But I'll send out my Men; who knows
But he may now be picking Sloes
In our Town-Woods, or getting Nuts,
For very need to fill his Guts?

Æneas in his Misty Cloak,
Heard every word Queen Dido spoke.

Her Hony-words made his Mouth water,
And he e'en twitter'd to be at her,
But he was so o'er joy'd he stood,
Like a great Sloven made of Wood;
And could not speak, (though he were willing)
Would one have gi'n him Forty shilling.
At last his Friend jog'd him with's hand;
How like a Logger-head you stand!
Quoth he, for certainly I think,
Thou'rt either mad or in thy drink:
Dost thou not see our Friends all round,
Excepting one whom we saw drown'd:
And all as well, as Heart can wish,
And yet thou standst as mute as Fish!
Scarce had he spoke, but off he threw
His Mantle made of Mists so blew,
And stood as plainly to be seen,
As any there, God bless the Queen.
For's Mother had so dizend him,
That he should shew both neat and trim:

Though (truly!) he was but an odd man,
Splay-mouth'd, crump-shoulder'd like the god Pan.
Yet could he not i'th' nick invent
Her Majestie a Complement:
But scratcht his head and 'gan to sputter,
His elbow rub'd and kept a clutter,
Mopping and mowing, till at last
All difficulties over-past,
In Courtly Phrase it thus came out;

Madam (quoth he) your humble Trout:
That same Æneas whom you prize thus,
Is here without Deceptio Visus;
I that same very man am here,
And come to taste of your good chear.
O Dido Primrose of Perfection,
Who onely grantest kind Protection
To wandring Trojans, how shall we,
E'r pay Thee for this Courtesie!
We never can my dainty Friend;
Then let Jove do't, and there's an end.

Thus having ended his fine Speech,
Towards the Queen he turn'd his Breech;
And spoke to's men, sayes, Lads how is't?
Come give me every one a Fist;
How dost thou Guy, and Sirs how do ye?
Now by my troth, I'm glad to see you;
'Tis better being here I trow,
Then where we were awhile ago,
No longer since then yesterday:
Welcome to Tyre as I may say.
With that to shaking hands they fall,
And he most friendly shak't them all:
Surely he was no Counterfeiter,
No Bandog could have shak't 'um better.

Queen Dido ravish't to behold,
The Carriage sweet of this Springold,
Star'd for a while, as she'd look through him,
And then thus brake her mind unto him.

O thou who hast so finely been bred,
And com'n art of such honest kindred,
By what strange luck hast thou been hurry'd,
As if the Fates would thee have worry'd!
'Tis strange thou hast not burst thy hoops,
Th'ast been so bang'd about the stoops.

Art thou Æneas with great Ware,
So famous for a Cudgel-player,
Whom Venus with her fine Devices
Bore that old Knocker, good Anchises?
My Father Belus went with Teucer,
(I think he had not many Sprucer)
To take possession of an Island,
That was some Twenty Rood of dry-land.
And he still gave great commendations,
Of Trojans 'bove all other Nations;
He could have nam'd you all by dozens,
And told me you and he were Cousins.
Therefore young Men to Carthage you
Are welcome without more adoe.
I have my self (I'd have you know)
Been driven to my shifts e'r now;
And therefore in my Jurisdiction,
Pitty a Beast that's in affliction:
With that she stretched forth a hand,
So white, it made Æneas stand

Amaz'd to see'r (for know that shee
Still washt her hands in Chamber-Lee)
And led Æneas in kind fashion,
Towards her Graces Habitation;
And made a Curtzy at the dore,
And pray'd him to go in before:
But he most curteously cry'd no,
I hope I'm better bred then so:
But let him say what he say could,
Dido swore Faith and Troth he should;
Well (quoth Æneas) I see still,
Women and Fools must have their will:
And thereupon without more talking,
Enters before her proudly stalking.
Scarce were they got within the dores,
But Dido call'd her Maids all Whores,
And a great coyl and scolding kept,
Because the House was not clean swept:
Then all in haste away she sends
Victuals unto Æneas friends;
Pease-porridge, Bacon, Puddings, Sowse,
O'th' very best she had i'th' house;
Butter, and Curds, and Cheeses plenty,
To fill their Guts that were full empty;
Bidding them eat, and never save it,
But call for more, and they should have it.

This being done, the dainty Queen
Conducts the Trojans further in;
Into a Parlour neat she takes 'um,
And there most fairly welcome makes 'um:
She serv'd 'um drink and victuals up,
As long as they would eat or sup;
Whilst each one there so play'd the Glutton,
That he was forced to unbutton.
No sooner had the Trojans bold,
Stuff'd their Guts full as they would hold;
But that Æneas strait begun,
All-to-bethink him of his Son.

See Servius upon Virgil.

Now you must know that he had had
A Wench, and by that Wench a Lad.
The Lass Crëusa had to name,
Whom (be it spoken to their shame)
The Greeks when first they took Troy City,
Did thrust to death, without all pity:
Of woman-kind sure as I breath
The first that ever dy'd that death.
His son, Ascanius hight, a Page,
About some dozen years of age,
This Boy, Æneas sent Achates
To fetch; quoth he, since we feed gratis,
Why should not now my little Bastard,
(That I dare sware would prove no dastard)

Come to Queen Dido's House, and Feast,
As we have done o'th' very best?
Go fetch him then, and let him bring's
Out of my Coffer, those gay things
I sav'd at Troy; which for their fineness
He shall present unto her Highness.
There is a Riding-hood and Safe-guard
Of yellow Lace, bound with a brave-guard,
Which Hellen wore, the very day,
That Paris stole her quite away.
Then there's a Distaff neatly wrought
That Paris too for Hellen bought,
For carved work fit to be seen,
Betwixt the leggs of any Queen.
And then there is a fair great Ruff
Made of a pure and costly Stuff
To wear about her Highness neck;
Like Mris. Cockaynes in the Peak;
And last a Quoif, wrought gorgeously
With Tinsel, and Blew Coventry:
Then go as fast as th' canst, I prithee,
And bring him and these Presents with thee.

Away goes he, as he was bidden,
Running as fast, as he had ridden;
But Venus, that same cunning Dame
Had yet another Trick to play 'um.
She had no very good Opinion,
Of your so smooth tongu'd Carthaginian,
Nor knew she but the Queen might be
As full of Craft as Courtesie.
And she was sure that Juno would
Do all the Mischief that she could;
Therefore she in all haste did run,
T' a Boy, call'd Cupid, was her Son.

This Cupid was a little Tyny,
Cogging, Lying, Peevish Nynny;
No bigger then a good Points Tag;
But yet a vile unhappy wag.
He ne'r would go to School, but play
The Truant every other day:
Run men into the Breech with pins,
Throw stones at Folks and break their shins;
Kill peoples Hens, and steal their Chicks,
And do a Thousand Roguy Tricks:
But with a Bow the Shit-breecht elf
Would shoot like Robbin Hood himself;
And had, I warrant, every dart,
Poyson'd with such a subtle art,

That where they hit, their power was so,
It made Folks love, would they or no:
And for this Trick, the hopeful Youth
Was call'd The God of Love forsooth,

To this young Squire Dame Venus trotted,
As I (if you have not forgot it)
Told you before, and thus begun
To flatter up her Graceless Son;
My Goldy locks, (quoth she) my Joy,
My pretty little tyny Boy;
Thy Mother Venus comes to thee
T' implore thy little Deity.
Thou knowest as well as any other,
How Juno vile has us'd thy Brother,
Our poor Æneas, what a Clatter,
She made to drown him on the water;
Nay she would do more mischief still,
If the curst Quean might have her will.
Æneas now is at a place,
Call'd Carthage, with a handsome Lass,
Queen Dido nam'd, where now he is
Made on as much, as heart can wish;
But least the Queen should change her mind
As Weather-Cocks do with the wind,

And thorough Juno's wiles at last,
Shew him a Womans slipp'ry cast:
My pretty Archer, let us two
Shew the proud Slut what we can do.
My Son Æneas does dispatch
Achates to the Wharf to fetch
My little Grandchild, who must come,
To sup in Dido's Dining-room.
Now since that thus in short the Case is,
And that thou canst so well cut faces:
I would have thee to set thy Phys'-
Nomy in such a shape as his:
And go along as meek and mild,
As any little sucking Child.
When thou com'st there, I know the Queen
Will clip, and kiss thy Cheek and Chin;
Dandle, and give thee Figs and Reasons;
Then must thou play thy Petty-Treasons,
Lick her Lips, Flatter her, and Cog,
And set her Highness so o'th' Gog,
That when she'as laid by Fame and Honour,
Thy Brother may to work upon her.

This is my Plot, and that nought cross it,
I'll make the Child a sleeping Posset.
And when he's fast, I will him hide
I'th' top o'th' Garret upon Ide.

Cupid, who Mischief lov'd I think,
Better by half then Meat or Drink;
Without all manner of Reply,
Prepares him for his Roguery.
His wings he from his shoulders throws,
Because they'd not go into's Clothes,
And drest himself to such a wonder,
That none could know the Lads asunder.
But Venus gave t'other a Sop,
That made him sleep like any Top;
And whilst he taking was a Nap,
She lay'd him neatly in her Lap,
And carried him to a House that stood
Upon an Hill in an old Wood:
And when she had the Urchin there,
She laid him up in Lavender.

In the mean time Sir Cupid goes
To th' Court in young Iülus Clothes;

Who should he see when he came there,
But Dido sitting in a Chair,
I'th' midst of all her Trojan Blades,
Vap'ring and swearing at her Maids!
Under her Feet a Cricket stood,
Whereon she stampt as she were Wood:
And likewise there was finely put,
A Cushion underneath her Scut.
There as she sate upon her Crupper,
She bad her Folks to bring in Supper,
And in they brought a Thundring Meal,
Great Joynts of Mutton, Pork, and Veal,
Hens, Geese, and Turkies, Ducks, and Bustards,
And at the last, Fools, Flawns, and Custards:
The Trojans eat, and make good Chear,
Tunning themselves with Ale and Beer;
There was old drinking, and old singing,
And all the while, the Bells were ringing,
One would have thought by the great Feast,
T'ad been a Wedding at the least.

Whilest thus they eat, and drink, and chat,
Cupid, that little cogging Brat,
So cunning was in Counterfeiting,
Æneas thought him on's own getting.
At last Queen Dido in her Lap,
Sets me the Mounte-banking Ape,
And kist his Lips all of a Lather,
Then thus bespeaks the new-made Father.
By the Mack (quoth she) thou Trojan trusty,
Thou got'st this Boy when thou wert lusty;
And any one that does but note him,
May soon know who it was begot him;
I dare be sworn 'twas thou didst get him,
He's e'n as like thee as th' hadst spit him.
Whilst thus the Youth she kist and dandled,
Cupid had so the matter handled,
That she began to feel a grumbling,
As People do that would be tumbling.

When they had Supt, & that the Waiters,
Had Trenchers ta'n away, and Platters;

Up from her Chair Queen Dido starts,
And takes a Mug, that held two Quarts
Of drink, that she with much forbearing,
Had sav'd long since for her Sheep-shearing:
And thus begins, Here Sirs, here's to you,
And from my heart much good may do you:
Æneas, here's a Health to thee,
To Puss, and to good Company;
And he that will not do as I do,
Proclaims himself no friend to Dido.
I do pronounce him to be no Man,
And may he never kiss a Woman.

With that she set it to her Nose,
And off at once the Rumkin goes;
No drop besides her Muzzle falling,
Until that she had supt it all in.
Then turning 't

Alias Kelty.

Topsey on her Thumb,
Sayes, Look, here's Supernaculum.
Æneas, as the Story tells,
And all the rest did bless themselves,
To see her troll off such a Pitcher,
And yet to have her Face no richer.
By Jove (quoth he) knocking his Knuckles,
I'd not drink with her for Shoe-buckles:

But Madam (sayes he) sweetly bowing,
I hope your Grace does not make

Ending one and Beginning another.

plowing:
For if you do, at this large rate,
There will be many an aking pate;
With that he took a lusty Swimmer,
Here Sirs (quoth he) I drink this Brimmer
In kind return for our Protections,
Unto Queen Dido's best Affections.
Down went their Cups, and to't they fell,
Roaring and Swaggering pell-mell,
Whilst a Blind-Harper did advance,
That wore Queen Dido's Cognizance,
A Minstrel that Iopas hight,
Who play'd and sung to 'um all night;
He sung them Songs, Ballads, and Catches,
Of Mens Devices, Womens Patches;
With ancient Songs of high Renown,
And even one they call Troy-Town:
At that Æneas shak'd his Noddle,
As one would do an empty Bottle;
(Quoth he) If he that wrought this Dity,
Had been with us i'th' midst o'th' City,
When Faggot-sticks flew in folks Chops,
And knockt men down as thick as Hops,
I do believe for all's fine Chiming,
He would have had small mind of Rhiming:

Yet for to give the Devil his due,
Who e'r he was, the Ballads true.

From Dido then a belch did flie,
'Tis thought she meant it for a sigh,
And tears ran down her fair long Nose,
The Queen was Maudlin I suppose.

(Quoth she) Æneas, out of Jesting,
Thou needs must tell at my Requesting,
All the whole Tale of Troys condition,
Since first you troubled were with th' Grecian;
Hectors great Fights, and Priams Speeches,
And eke describe Achilles Breeches,
How strong he was when he did grapple,
And if Tidydes Horse were dapple.
Tell me, I say, of Paris Lechery,
The Grecians Quarrels, and their Treachery,
Your Challenges, your Fights, and Battels,
And how you lost your Goods and Chattels;
And to what Places you have wander'd
E'r since you were so basely squander'd.
All these things would I know most duly,
Then tell me speedily and truly.

FINIS.

The Fourth Book.

Stultissimum credo ad imitandum non optima quæq; proponere. Plin. Ep.5. lib.I.

In this Fourth Book we find it written,
That Dido Queen was deeply smitten;
Much taken with the Trojan's person,
Than which a properer was scarce one:
Much of his breeding did she reckon,
But more of what, I'm loath to speak on,
For which she did so scald and burn
That none but he could serve her turn.

The Sun, that spruce light-headed fellow
With frizled locks of sanded yellow,

The windows crept by radiation,
Like son begot in fornication,
When Dido mad for want of Man,
Ev'n thus bespake her Sister Nan.

I've been all night (quoth she) my Nancy,
So strangely troubled in my fancy,
I could not rest till morning peep,
Odd Dreams have so disturb'd my sleep:
What a stout stripling's this Æneas,
That thus hast crost the Seas to see us!
I do believe, nay dare swear for him,
No mortal Woman ever bore him:
But some great Lady in the skie,
That Nurs'd him up with Furmitie!
I hate a base cowardly Drone,
Worse then a Rigil ten to one:
But this bold Trojan I delight in;
How bravely does he talk of Fighting!
I tell thee Nancy, wer't not that
Folks would be apt to talk and prate,
Should I so soon new Suiters have,
My Husband yet scarce cold in's grave;

And were I not with my first honey
Half tyr'd as 'twere with Matrimony,
I could with this same youngster tall,
Find in my heart to try a fall.
I must confess since that sad season;
Pygmalion cut my Husbands weazon;
This only (not to mince the matter)
Is he hath made my mouth to water.
But may I first Jove implore,
Sinke thorow this my Chamber floor,
Down quick into the Cellars bottom,
E'r I commit the thing you wot on;
Or any thing by lusts suggestion,
That my good name may bring in question.
Which said, she wept in manner ampler,
Then Girl new whipt for losing Sampler.
Nan in her answer was not long,
For nimble Baggage of her tongue
She was, (as some would say that knew her,
As was in that, or next Town to her.)

O Sister dearer to me far,
Then Sunshine-dayes in Harvest are:

Wilt thou (quoth she) O Woman Wood,
Still stop the current of thy blood,
And lose the time by vain pretences
Of making pretty Boys and Wenches?
Wilt thou cut Faces evermore
For Husband dead, as Nail in Dore?
Dost thou believe, thou puling thing,
That dead Folks care for whimpr'ng?
Yield, and be naught at last; Y'have plaid
The Fool too long, here be it said,
And stood too much in your own light,
Or long enough ago, you might
Have match't your self, and that well too,
To rich and proper men enow.
What though you have said many nay,
Yea, and burnt day-light, as we say,
Goodman Iarbas here hard by,
And others of good Yeomanry;
That might have past; because forsooth
They could not please your dainty Tooth.

Must you still mince it at this rate,
With that you would so fain be at?
You ne'r consider what a throng
Of saucie Knaves you live among.
Base ill-bred cheating surly Currs,
Rascals as false as Moor-Landers.
Such fellows, as I greatly doubt me,
If you no better look about ye,
And leave this foolish twittle twattle,
To match with one may tent your Cattle;
Will in a short space not leave a Goose,
Turky, or Hen about the House:
Your Brother too, he swears and curses
About his Money-Baggs and Purses.
I do believe that Jove and Juno,
(Whom all the World, and I, and you know)
Have ever been your faithful friends
For some most secret courteous ends.
Over-blew Neptunes bouncing Ferries,
Have hither sent these Trojan Wherries.

Oh, were these Trojans marry'd to us,
What good such bonny Lads might do us!

What a fine Town would ours be then
How bravely stor'd with lusty Men!
Then without any more ado,
Sister say Grace, and so fall to:
They in good manners ten to one,
Will make an offer to be gone;
And rather trust their rotten Barges,
Then stay to put you to more charges:
But you may make 'um at command,
As easily stay as kiss your hand.
Can you not tell 'um that the weather-
'S too cold, or hot (no matter whether)
Their Scullers torn and shatter'd so,
That they must mend 'um e'r they go;
And in conclusion with good reason
Wish 'um t' expect a better season.

With such like documents as these are,
Which the young Slut knew best would please her,
Nancy so tickled up her Grace,
That Dido scarce knew where she was.
Nay some affirm a dangerous matter,
She'd much ado to hold her water:

And Counsel'd in that tempting strain,
I wonder how she could contain:
But certain 'tis, that this advice
So wrought upon this Widow nice,
That she, who Maid, Widow, and Wife,
Had priz'd her Honour, 'bove her Life;
Now car'd no more, for her good Name
Then any common Trading Dame.

But to the Church (forsooth) anon,
That matters might go better on,
Like People o'th' Phanatick fry,)
Whose Sanctity's Hypocrisie)
They must, and slipping on their Pattens,
They went, as who should say to Mattens.

Thither now come, fair Dido squats
Her Bum on Bassock made of Mats:
For you must know as Story sayes,
Queens, like the godly in these dayes,
In manner insolent and slightly,
Disdain'd to kneel to God Almighty.
But Anna who was but a Spinster,
Kneel'd low on Stones as hard as Flints are.
Their eyes they roll'd, and bow'd their bodies
To this, and t'other god and goddess.
To Ceres, Phœbus, and Lyæus,
And twenty harder names then

A figure so new, that Modern Authors have yet no name for't

The'as.

But Juno had most veneration,
As she was Queen of Copulation.

Prayers being done, up Dido rose,
And to the Priest demurely goes;
She gently pulls him by the garment,
The reverend Type of his preferment,
And with most gracious looks and speeches,
To borrow a word or two beseeches.
The Priest bow'd low in Aukward wise,
As 'tis you know Sir Roger's guise,
And in obsequious manner told her,
Her Grace with him might make much bolder.

This Priest was held a mighty Clark,
In mysteries profound and dark;
Had skill in Physick, and was able
To tell Folks Fortunes by their Table.
Him she conjures, intreats, and prayes,
With all the cunning that she has,
Greases his Fist; nay more engages,
Thenceforth to mend his Quarters wages,
If he would but resolve the doubt
That she then came to him about.
But 't had been vain, had he been wiser
Or to instruct, or to advise her,
Alas, poor Priest! how fruitless is't
To judge by Phys'nomy or Fist,

Or what do Prophecies avail
When Women have a whisk i'th Tail?
Dido for love in woful wise,
Bubbles, and boyls, and broyls, and fries,
And in her am'rous Moods and Tenses,
Even like one out of her senses,
About the Town she runs and reels,
With all the School-boys at her heels.

So have I seen in Pastures fair,
Where Cattle educated are:
An heifer young when she doth itch,
With Gad-breeze sticking in her breech,
From shady Brake on sudden rise,
And with her Tail erect to th' skies.
Run through the field with frisks and kicks
In various capreols and tricks.
Some ease poor thing, alass, to find;
When lo, the sting sticks fast behind:
One while she takes her lusty Lover,
Meaning her passion to discover;
She leads him out from place to place,
And shews him all that e'r she has;
Discloses all her secret wealth,
And sayes, if Jove send life and health,

That she (though simply there she stand)
Will make that Living as good Land,
If she continue but a while on't,
As any lies within five mile on't.
Then she begins to mump and smatter,
Willing to break into the matter,
And ask the question when (alass!)
To see how things will come to pass!
When she most fain her mind would break,
She rather could have broke her neck
Then speak a word, Vertue forsooth,
And modesty so stopt her mouth.
Over and over then she treats
Him, and his Mates, with sundry meats,
Whilest Trojans round besiege her boards,
Merry as Greeks, and drunk as Lords.
And sure as e'r they sit to Table,
She calls again to hear Troys Fable:
Nay lov'd it so, that she 'tis said,
The Ballad then of Troy-Town made.
We owe her for't, and let us pay't her;
Who English it, was her Translator.

Now when with raking up the fire
Each one departs to Bedfordshire:

And pillows all securely snort on,
Like Organists of fain'd Hogs-Norton;
Dido, poor Queen, alone doth lye,
Dreaming on true-loves Phys'nomy:
And in that humour she the small
Ascanius takes: Troy's Juvenal;
And in her lap on tuft of Sorrel,
Laying the little wanton Gorrel,
Oft would she sighing say, This Lad,
Oh that he were but like his Dad!

This life the woful Dido led,
Eke at her Board, and eke at Bed,
Her housewifery no more regarding,
Neither her spinning nor her carding;
But like a Dame of wits bereaven,
Let all things go at six and seven.

Which when Queen Juno (for these two
Were Clove and Orange, you must know)
Perceiv'd, and that, then blind cheeks blinder,
She threw all care and shame behind her;

She Venus in these words accoasts,

You, and your son may make your boasts,
With shame enough, that god and goddess,
Like sublunary Busi-bodies,
To make a Woman light as Feather,
Do lay your learned heads together.
'Twas not for nought that I was ever
Afraid of your two coming hither.
You, and your little blinking Urchin
Against this Town have still been lurking;
But when shall we give o'r this puther.
And leave off vexing one another?
Be thou but nice, I'll be thy friend,
Let's marry 'um and there's an end.
Thou hast thy wish, thy little Archer
Has made our Dido mad as March-hare.
Then let us all old quarrels quit,
Leave being such a peevish Tit:
Troy Lads shall marry Tyrian Lasses,
And we will be as merry as passes.

Venus who knew she did but glaver,
For all the fine smooth words she gave her,
And profer'd love's not worth a Cow-turd,
(You know) if spoke but from Teeth outward,
Like cunning Quean in smiles array'd her,
And in her own Coyn thus she paid her.

O Juno Queen, Jove's Bedfellow,
Who here above, or who below,
With thee would quarrel or contend,
And not still rest thy loving friend?
I like the motion well, but that
There's one main thing I stumble at;
And that in downright truth is this,
(Jove pardon if I think amiss,)
I am afraid (this doubt I put ye
In deed-law now is something smutty)
But I the scruple must not smother;
(Women you know, to one another
May freely speak) I (here be 't said
'Twixt you and me) am sore afraid,
My Son's so boysterous, that he
Perchance may wrong your Majesty.

At that Queen Juno smil'd and said.
Of that (Wench) never be afraid,
For if they once come one to th' other,
She'l scape as well as did her Mother:
If then that Dido and thy son,
To do as other Folks have done,
Thou give consent: (mark) and in few words,
Which shall be friendly words and true words;
I'll tell thee how I've cast about,
And laid a plot to bring 'um to't.
To morrow e'r the Sun (Heaven bless him)
Can see to rise, at least to dress him.
Æneas and the Queen have made,
(The Queen and he I should have said)
A match to go, after her wonting,
Into the Woods a Squirrel hunting:
Now I, whilest all on every side,
The Thickets round are occupi'd:
And eagerly their Game are following,
As Hunters use, whooping and hollowing:
Will cause big-bellied Clouds to powre
Upon their Coxcombs such a showre,

And will with Rain, and Hail so clout 'um,
They'st not have one dry thred about 'um.
Besides such Thunder-claps shall burst out,
As some of 'um shall smell the worse for't.
Trojans and Tyrians helter-skelter,
Will then all run to seek for shelter.
Then each one there will shift for one,
And leave the Queen and him alone.
Dido and Bilbo in this Case,
Shall find a Cave as fit a place
For such an use, so fine and dark,
That if Æneas be a spark,
They there in spite of all foul weather,
May take a gentle touch together:
So each of other may have proof,
And marry after time enough.

Venus who very well could fadom
The bottom of this subtle Madam,
Soon smelt her practice, art and plot,
(For you must know the scent was hot)
Yet that she might her malice blind,
And fit the Lady in her kind,
See seems her free consent to give,
And trips it, laughing in her sleeve.

Mean while the Sun at it his course is,
Got up to dress and water's Horses;
When out the merry Hunters come,
With them a Fellow with a Drum

A very necessary instrument in Squirrel-hunting.

,
Your Tyrian Squirrels will not budge else,
Well arm'd they were with staves & cudgels,
Tykes too they had of all sorts, Bandogs,
Curs, Spaniels, Water-dogs, and Land-dogs,

These for the Queen expecting tarry,
Who longer lay then ordinary;
For she at night could take no ease,
She had been bit so sore with Fleas.
Her Mare well trapt of her own spinning,
Ty'd to the Pales stood likewise whining;
For why (as Poets sing the Fable)
Her Foal was bolted up i'th' Stable.
At last she sallies from the House,
As fine and brisk as Body-Louse.
Shee Hood and Safe-guard had bran new,
The Lace was Yellow, Cloth was Blew:

Fast to her Girdle, ty'd with thong,
A Bunch of Keyes compleatly hung:
For why well knew the thrifty Queen,
That Servants still have slippery been:
Which made her careful of her pelf
Evermore keep her Keys her self.

With her Iülus came, that Stripling,
A youth e'n spoyl'd for want of whipping;
For's Father and his Foolish Grannam
Had ever made a Wanton on him:
But when his Sire appear'd in play,
Mounted upon his Galloway,
'Tis said by some that better knew him,
The rest lookt like Tooth-Drawers to him:
No sprightly Groom so trim and trick is,
That just upon preferments prick is,
As was Æneas, Stories say,
When clad in Clothes of Holy-day.

His Breeches sav'd from Troys combustion
Were Kendal, and his Doublet Fustian;

Pinckt with most admirable grace,
And richly laden with Green Silk lace.
Athwart his brawny shoulders came
A Bauldrick made, and trimm'd with th'same;
Where Twibil hung with Basket hilt,
Grown rusty now, but had been gilt:
Or guilty else of many a thwack,
With Dudgeon Dagger at his back.
Upon his head he wore a hat,
Instead of Sattin fac'd with fat,
Which being limber-grown, we find
Most swashingly pin'd up behind;
With brooch as gawdy and as tall,
As very foremost horse of all.

In best apparel thus array'd,
They now begin their Cavalcade
Towards the Woods, where being e'r long
Arriv'd (for 'twas not past a Furlong
From Carthage, as the Learn'd compute it,
And let who has been there, confute it)
They every way disperse themselves,
To watch the little nimble Elves;
As who should say, Come this, or that way,
T'other, or any way, have at ye.

The Drummer now 'gan lay about him,
And all the people fall a shouting,
Such peals they gave of Men and Boyes,
A man could hardly hear for noyse;

Nay Dido Queen, they swore that heard it,
Shouted as lowd as any there did.

The frighted Squirrels stumps belabour
As they had danc'd to Pipe and Tabour;
Skipping and leaping in their dances
From Tree to Tree, o'r boughs and branches,
Now on the utmost top, and then,
At one leap at the root again.

But young Ascanius hops o'th' house,
Car'd not for Squirrelling a Louse;
For he's, whilst they are at their chace,
Playing at Hide and Seek, or Base,
Among his Mates, and wishes rather,
(And so the Stripling told his Father,)
For naughty Vermine, that would bite him,
Or Throstle neast, though't did ------

Mean while the Clouds began to clatter,
And to poure down whole pales of water,

The Thunder quite out-roar'd the Drum,
And Hail-stones bigger then ones thumb
Came pelting down. Then all to save 'um,
Ran as if twenty Devils drave 'um.
Whilst young Ascanius and his Mates,
Were washt and dasht like Water-Rats.
Fair Dido then for all her whoops,
Bang'd her old Mare about thee stoops,
And jogg'd her buttocks, though a Queen,
For fear of being wet to th' skin;
Nay ev'n Æneas self, forgetting
His reputation, shrunk i'th' wetting,
And ran, or would have done at least,
But that his Horse, a sober Beast,
Proceeded slow, with motion grave,
And crav'd the spur, in care to save
His Masters neck, as some suppose,
Though his care was to save his cloaths.
He spurr'd; nor yet was Dido idle,
For gingle, gingle, went her Bridle,
Till Fortune, or Dame Juno rather,
Clapt 'um into a Cave together.

The Cave so darksome was, that I do
Think Joan had been as good as Dido:

But so it was, in that hole they
Grew intimate as one may say:
The Queen was blith, as Bird in Tree,
And bill'd as wantonly, whilst he
By hinlock seizing fast occasion,
Slipt into Dido's conversation:
And in that very place and season,
'Tis thought Æneas did her reason,

This sport of mischief much was cause,
For sweet meat will have sowre sauce;
And there their time in Cave so spending,
Beginning was of Dido's ending.
Her Majesty now no more nice is;
Nor seeks she now by fine devices,
To hide her shame, but leads a life,
As if they had been man and wife.

At this a Wench call'd Fame flew out
To all the good Towns round about.
This Fame was daughter to a Cryer,
That whilom liv'd in Carthage-shire,

A little prating Slut, no higher,
When Dido first arriv'd at Tyre,
Then this—But in a few years space
Grown up a lusty strapping Lass.
A long and lasie Quean I ween,
She was, brought up to Sew, nor Spin,
Nor any kind of Housewifery,
To get an honest living by;
But sauntred idly up and down,
From House to House, and Town to Town;
To spie and listen after news
Which she so mischievously brews;
That still what e'r she sees or hears,
Sets Folks together by the ears.

This Baggage that still took a pride to
Slander and back-bite poor Queen Dido;
Because the Queen once on detection,
Sent her to th' Mansion of Correction.
Glad she had got this tale by th' end,
Runs me about to Foe and Friend;

And tells 'um that a Fellow came
From Troy, or such a kind of Name,
To Tyre, about a Fortnight since,
Whom Dido feasted like a Prince:
Was with her alwayes, day and night,
Nor could endure him from her sight,
And that 'twas thought she meant to marry him:
At this rate talk'd the foul-mouth'd carrion!

At last she does t' Iarbas go,
She never in such things was slow,
And tells him all. Now this Iarbas,
For Dido's love was in a hard case,
And had been long. Oft did he woe her,
And did the best he could do to her:
But still in vain he broke his mind,
'Twas throwing stones against the wind;
For though she wise and wealthy knew him,
Dido had nothing to say to him.
'Tis true, the field he had great Flocks on,
Sheep, Goats, and Cowes, Horses, and Oxen;

With money store, and other riches;
But one foul flaw he had in's Breeches
That spoyl'd all; For she had heard the thing,
One time as she was Gossiping:
As in such matters, while you live,
Women will be inquisitive:
Which was that he (as Story tells)
A Rupture had, or somewhat else:
But 'twas enough to make her hate him,
Nay even as 'twere abominate him.
When fame had told him of the Trojan,
Iarbas took it in such dudgeon,
Such high abuse, and evil part,
He almost could have found in's heart,
T'have ta'n his Knife, or else his Hanger,
But yet the man had wit in's anger:
And since to curse it was no boot,
He'd try if praying would not do't;
And therefore thus in heavy chear,
Made his case known to Jupiter.

O Jupiter most great and able,
Whose health I every day at Table,
Drink once or twice! Dost thou (O where is
Thy sight!) not see, what doings here is!

Shall we when thou thunderst, dost think,
So as to sowre all our drink;
And when the Clouds in Storms do burst,
Not care, but bid thee do thy worst!
A wandring woman that had scarce
A rag to hang upon her ---
When she came hither first; and wou'd
Have then been glad to work for food:
Is now forsooth, so proud (what else!)
And stands so on her pantables,
That she has said me nay most slightly,
And (on the very nonce to spite me)
Has marry'd a spruce youth they say,
(Whom some ill wind blew that away)
One Squire Æneas; a great Kelf,
Some wandring Hang-man like her self:
And now this Swabber, by the maskins,
Has Dido by the Gally-Gaskins,
Whilst I (for still thou deafish art to't)
May pray, and pray, and pray my heart out.

Thus wofully Iarbas pray'd:
Whilst Jove heard every word he said;
And turning straight his eyes to Tyre,
To look for Dido, and her squire,
All in a Chamber finely matted,
He very fairly spy'd 'um squatted.
At which as 'twere, somewhat in fury,
He calls his nimble youth Mercury,
And thus bespake him; Sirrah, hear ye,
Put on the wings that use to bear ye,
Away to Carthage; there's a stranger,
A Trojan lies at Rack and Manger:
Tell him from me that his smug Mother,
Did pass her word that he another
Manner of life and conversation
Should lead, and leave this occupation.
Or twice the Grecian Cavaleers
Had beaten's brains about his ears,

E'r this: and tell him more that he,
Who means to conquer Italy,
Must with his work go through stitches,
And not run hunting after Bitches:
But if he will not venture's pate,
A rap or two for an Estate,
As by his prancks it doth appear,
Methinks though he might do't for's heir:
Ask what the Devil 'tis he means,
To spend his time thus among Queans:
Not minding mischiefs, nor mishaps;
Nor fearing Dido's after-claps.
Bid him be trudging he were best;
If I come to him, I protest,
I'll send him packing else such new-wayes,
He shall remember me these two dayes.

This said, Jove need not bid him twice,
Away he trips it in a trice,

To make him ready to be gone:
And first his pumps he fastned on;
Which being neatly pinckt and cut,
And finely fitted to his foot:
Had Wings ty'd on with thongs of Leather,
Or Taching ends, I know not whether.
Which he could fly withal as well,
As he'd been brought up to't from th' shell.
Then in his hand he takes a thick Bat,
With which he us'd to play at Kit-cat;
To beat mens Apples from their Trees,
With twenty other rogueries;
Besides (as Rake-hells will abuse dayes)
To throw at Cocks upon Shrove-Tuesdays.

Thus dight he like a Partridge springs,
Cutting the air with nimble wings:
'Twas well his care had ty'd 'um fast,
Else ten to one he'd flown his last:
No Swallow could have over-gone him,
He flew as if a Hawk had flown him,
Until he saw a very high Hill,
A higher Hill by farr then my Hill;

Atlas 'twas call'd; So high a one
That Pen-men maure's a Cherry-stone
Compar'd: you could not thrust a knife
'Twixt Heaven and it, to save your life;
It props the skie, as Virgil marks,
Or else 'tis thought we should have Larks:
Here first did Mercury alight,
To bait, and rest him after's flight;
Where having prun'd his heels a little
And smooth'd his Plumes with

Tis conceiv'd he did that before he baited.

fasting spittle.
From thence he took another freak,
As if he meant to break his neck.
Even as a Hawk her self doth carry
From Kill-ducks place to stoop her Quarry:
So Mercury to mortal view,
Himself from Atlas headlong threw.
Stones cast by fam'd Parisian slinger,
Compar'd to him, would seem to linger;
And Arrows loos'd from Grub-street Bow
In Finsbury, to him are slow:

Nay Lightning darted from above,
With flaming tail from angry Jove,
Would in comparison appear,
To creep like lazie loyterer.

The first place after this vagary,
He lighted on, was Dido's Dairy;
Whence he Æneas soon did spie,
Ord'ring her Highness husbandry:
He took upon him as her Spouse,
And vapour'd like the man o'th' house;
For all that time, as't came to pass,
In quarrel high engag'd he was,
And ready in his fumigation
(As Histories do make relation)
To fall to logger-heads, as't appears,
With a few saucie Carpenters:
Who building were a House of Ease,
For Dido in necessities:
They would not follow his advice
(As Workmen still are over-wise)
Which made him foam, and flirt out spittle,
Because they made the holes too little.
Down hanging by his side he had,
A dangerous bright-brown flashing Blade,
'T had been new furbusht up at Tyre,
A better never pass'd the fire.

A Jacket on his back he wore,
Lin'd through and through with Coney Furr,
Given as a Present by the Queen:
It had indeed her Husband's been;
But neither by the Nap, nor tearing,
Was it a pin the worse for wearing.
This (as of either Queen or King,
Vile People will be censuring)
Was given Æneas for a Charm,
And though the Queen might think no harm;
Yet some have giv'n a parlous hint,
Of a strange hidden vertue in 't.
Ecquip't thus fine Mercury found him,
And roundly in his ear thus round him.

Thou here thy self most busie makes,
In building for the Queen a Jakes;
But never think'st, such is thy wiseness,
What shall become of thine own business:
The Thunder-thumper, who by threaves,
Makes men to quake like Aspen-leaves;
He whom the rest o'th' Gods do honour,
Has sent me from Olympus Mannor,

To ask thee what thou do'st intend,
Thy time thus wickedly to spend;
And loyter here like a Hum-drum,
Not caring what thou dost, nor whom.
He sayes, though fearful, as a stranger,
Thy Cox-comb thoul't not bring in danger,
To mend thy state, nor get thy living
By any honest way of thriving:
He thinks though thou mightst take some care
Of him that is thy Son and Heir,
And not thrash here like Bore unworthy
When he has made provision for thee.

Mercury vanisht, having spoke as
Y'ave heard, like any Hocus-Pocus,
And homeward did forthwith aspire,
Nor ever stay'd to drink at Tyre.

But Don Æneas at the vision
Was in a very sad condition;
He could not speak to Foe or Friend,
And eke his Hair did stand on end

So stiff, it thrust his Hat so far
Above his head into the air,
That a great Turky might have flown
Betwixt his Bonnet and his Crown.
Half frighted out on's little wit;
He now had eggs (i'faith) o'th' spit,
'Till he was gone: But how (alass!)
To break the matter to her Grace,
He knew no more, the bashful Groom,
Then did the furthest man of Rome:
Nor could he frame him to begin,
T'appease that loving soul the Queen:
For nought more vexes Womens blouds,
Then to be left so in the suds.
In this quandary, scratching's pate,
After a pensive long debate
He calls, at last, his Fellow-Rake-hells,
And bids 'um get their tools and tackles,
Aboard their Wherries, and be heedful,
To lay in all things that were needful,

Especially meat: but stow it,
So secretly, that none might know it;
That on occasion in a trice Sir,
They might be gone, and none the wiser;
And since he humbly did conceive,
To steal away and take no leave,
Would be uncivil, and enough
To tear a heart though made of Buff:
He was resolv'd to take the Queen,
When set upon some merry pin,
And tell her plain with vows most fervent,
He was her Graces humble Servant.

But Dido Carthage Queen (for who
Can think to cheat a Woman so?)
Was soon I warrant you, aware
O'th' slippery trick he meant to play her.
'Tis true she ever had been jealous
Of all such vagrant kind of Fellows,
And kept her things safe under lock,
E'r since the stealing of her smock:
But now to add unto her fear,
She had it buzz'd into her ear
By that mischievous prating Whore,
Fame, that I told you of before;

Not, as they say, out of good will,
But to be brewing mischief still,
That he for all his fair pretences
Had greas'd his Boots, and washt his benches,
And now was ready set on wheels,
To shew a nimble pair of heels.

This sudden news, I do assure ye,
Put Dido in a desp'rate fury,
And made her frisk about and gad,
That all her people thought her mad;
Whilst she from house to house did flie,
As she had run with Hue and Crie.

Even as a Philly never ridden,
When by the Jockie first bestridden,
If naughty Boy do thrust a Nettle
Under her Dock, to try her mettle,
Does rise and plunge, curvet and kick,
Enough to break her riders neck;
Even so Queen Dido at that tide,
Laying all Majesty aside,
Play'd such mad freaks, that well were they
Could furthest get out of her way.

Thus flinging round from place to place,
At last, to make it short, her Grace

100

Finds me amongst a crew of Mad-Caps,
Æneas, at one Mother Red-Caps.

Well overta'n (quoth she) half weeping,
Æneas, thou'rt a precious Pepin,
To think to steal so slily from me,
When thou hast had thy foul will o' me,
Could not my love (thou Knave) have staid thee,
Nor yet the promise thou hast made me:
Nor that thou know'st if thou wert gone
My work would all be left undone;
But that thou'lt slink away, thou Varlet,
And leave me like forsaken Harlot?
In Winter too, o'r blust'ring Seas,
When it 'twixt two a Bed doth freeze?
What though thou hadst as thou hast none,
A House to go to, of thine own,
Couldst find yet in thy heart to b'reave me
Of thy dear Company, and leave me?
By this last Rhume thou seest, that wets
My cheeks, and by thy hand that sweats,

101

I'm brief, by the whole matters Carriage
And by the Earnest of our Marriage:
And by those sweet delights we stole,
When the rain drove thee into th' hole;
If ought there pleas'd thee, or since any
Other delights, as we have had many,
I do beseech thee Trojan fine,
Not to undo both me, and mine.
For thy sweet sake the Knavish Lydians,
The Tyrians, and the vile Numidians,
In midst of which is my abode,
Hate me, as one would hate a Toad.
For thee I first forewent all shame,
And that I liv'd by my good name,
And wilt thou having spent thy ardour,
And eat me out of house and harbour,
So basely to my foes betray me,
And neither stay with me, nor pay me?

102

No sooner shall thy back be turn'd
But all my Building will be burn'd;
That Rogue Pygmalion will ha' me,
Or else Iarbas here will ta' me,
If (as we oft have ventur'd it,)
I had but a big belly yet,
A little Trojan coming on,
To play withal when thou art gone,
Then let the Rogues do what they durst do,
I should have something yet to trust to.

Æneas ta'ne thus basely tardy,
Turn'd pale, and like a stickt Pig star'd ye:
He could not stand upright but lean,
One might have fell'd him with a Bean;
Nay he was struck so at her speeches,
Some say he did defile his breeches,
His bowels did so yearn upon her;
But being that may wound his honour,
I'll not affirm it; but proceed
To tell you what he said and did;
Much was he mov'd at Dido's words
Which stab'd him through and through like swords:
Much griev'd to see her weep and sob so,
To throw about her snot, and throb so:

103

But Merc'ries Message more prevailing
Then her colloguing or her railing,
After a many fine good-morrows,
He thus began to salve her sorrows.

Should I (quoth he) O Queen deny,
That thou'rt the flower of Curtesie;
Or any slanders vile contrive,
I were the basest Knave alive.
I must confess that thou, O Queen,
To me and to us all hast been
More like a Mother then a friend,
So much I'll say, and there's an end;
And if I ever do forget ye,
Or fail to drink a Health to Betty,
Let me be hang'd as high, or higher
Then top of Carthage Steeple Spire:
Few words are best; if you'l be civil,
I'll tell the truth, and shame the Devil.
I ne'r had thought much less desire
Basely to build a Sconce at Tyre,

104

And steal away from thee my honey.
But for the thing call'd Matrimoney,
Although I did the thing you wot,
Jove be my Judge I meant it not.
Indeed I took it for a kindness,
To be familiar with your Highness.
But if I ever thought of other,
Then one good turn requires another;
Or on such terms e'r gave my fist,
I'm th' arrantst Rogue that ever pist.
I must confess that if it lay,
In my own power, as one may say,
That I had some good bargain made
And bound my son here to a Trade,
Plac'd all my followers, and therefore
Had no one but my self to care for,
I would as willing match with you,
As any Woman that I know:

But as things stand, I needs must follow
The Counsel of my friend Apollo,
Who sends me word I must convey me
To Lucia with all speed that may be,
Where by a dainty Rivers side,
A Farm lies ready cut and dry'd,

105

Will hold both me, and all my meany,
And cheap as forty eggs a penny,
There then in downright truth do I
Intend to live and occupy;
And if so be that you, who are sage,
Delight so in your Town of Carthage:
Why should it be in us so great sin,
Who have no House to thrust our heads in
To travel to a foreign Nation,
For some convenient habitation?
I can no sooner go anights
To Bed (Jove bless us all from sprights)
But that e'r I can frame to snore,
My Fathers Ghost comes through the dore,
Though shut as sure as hands can make it,
And leads me such a fearful racket;
I stew all night in my own grease,
So that your Maids may, if they please,
Wring from the shirt wherein I wallow,
Each morning-tide, as much good tallow
As well would liquor all their sandals,
And make beside six pound of Candles.

106

And all this is to have me gone,
And not stay here t'undo my Son;
Besides not past an hour ago,
Jove sent his Lackquay to me too;
I saw him fly, I'll take my oath,
(And man has but his Faith and Troth)
As plainly o'r your Dairy top,
As e'r I saw him on the Rope:
And heard him speak as plain but e'n now,
As I hear you, or you hear me now.
Then let me be so much beholding,
Unto your Grace to leave your scolding;
For I this Voyage undertake,
Even like a Bear that's drawn to th' Stake.

This said, the Queen in wrathful wise,
Rowling about her goggle eyes,
As she would throw 'um in his face,
Unto her fury thus gave place.

Stinkard (quoth she) now thy false heart
Shews what a cheating Knave thou art:

107

The symptoms of a Rogue thou hast all,
Thou a true Trojan, thou a Rascal!
No Man or Woman of good fashion,
E'r couple for thy procreation;
But whelpt thou wert of Tinkers Bitch,
Under some Hedge, or in some Ditch:
Nay, I'll not balk you Sir; nor care,
For all you look so big and stare:
Let thy foul hide with malice burst,
I do defie thee, do thy worst.
In stead of sighing in this case,
Full sowre thou belchest in my face;
And thou so stubborn art and canker'd,
Thou shedst no tears, but tears o'th' Tankerd.
Hadst thou but counterfeited passion,
To signifie commiseration,
Or offer'd but a sowre face, it
Had been a sign of some small grace yet;
But like a Logger-headed Lubber,
Thou grinning standst, and seest me blubber;
And Jove nor Juno, for ought I see,
Will neither of 'um both chastise thee.

108

There's no truth in this Age we live in:
A wand'ring Beggar hither driven;
Who had, when weak as he could crawl,
No cross to bless himself withal;
I have receiv'd to Bed and Board,
Feasted, and clad him like a Lord,
And (like a simple hair-bran'd Jade)
This Youth hail-fellow with me made:
And now forsooth he cannot stay,
Apollo bids him run away.
Nay though I have in friendly wise
Cur'd his mens Scabs, and kill'd their Lice:
Yet having now fall'n to his lot,
A good rich Farm lies piping hot:
Should he stay here, it would undo him,
And Jove has sent his Foot-man to him;
As if the Deities were so
Concern'd, they'd nothing else to do,
But send their Lacquayes and their Pages,
To him on How-de's and Messages.

But I'll waste on thee no more breath,
For whom the wind that fumes beneath,

109

Is far too sweet: Avant thou slave!
Thou lying Cony-catching Knave,
Be moving, do as thou hast told me!
No body here intends to hold thee!
Go! seek thy Farm, I hope 'twill be
I'th' very bottom of the Sea:
But should'st thou scape, and not in Dike lye,
Drown'd like a Puppy, as 'tis likely,
Since in the Proverb old 'tis found,
Who's born to hang, will ne'r be drown'd:
Yet should'st thou not be much the nigher,
I'll haunt thee like a going fire,
As soon as I can turn t' a Ghost,
Which will be in a Week at most:
Then in the mid-night sleep I'll wake thee,
And ride thee worse then any Hackney.
I'll terrifie thee day and night;
Nay if thou do'st but go to ---
There will I stand with flaming Taper,
To Fizze thy Tail in stead of Paper.
I'll make thee rue the time that e're
Thou cam'st to play thy Knaves tricks here.

110

In middle of this wrathful speech
Down drops Queen Dido on her Breech:
Her mouth was stopt, and on the ground
She silent lay in doleful swound:
Shut were her eyes; nor had she hearing,
For what Æneas was preparing,
Upon this pitiful occasion,
To say in's own justification.

In haste the Trojans all advance
To 'wake her Grace out of her Trance;
They try'd to raise her in such sort,
As when men cry, Le corps est mort:
But here the Charm would not prevail,
They could not raise her from her tail:
For though full light when her own Woman,
Yet in this heavy dump was no man
Could raise her up, though ne'r so mighty,
Sorrow had made her bum so weighty.

At last a crew of strapping Jades,
That were, or should have been her Maids,
Gath'ring her up, away convey'd her,
And having in her own Bed laid her,
With Ruggs they boulster'd her about,
To try if she could sweat it out.

111

Æneas though 'twas his desire,
Something t' have said might pacifie her,
And though his heart did bleed within him,
To think of what had past between 'um,
Yet because Jove so loud did threaten,
He sooner durst his nails have eaten,
Having so terribly been chidden,
Then not t' have done as he was bidden.
Therefore in haste his Hostess beck'ning,
To come and bring 'um in a reck'ning:
Straight to the Wharff repairs the hot-shot,
Without once calling for his shot-pot

The Trojans now by his Commission,
Lanch all their Boats with expedition;
You now upon the Ocean might see,
The new greas'd wherries swim most lightly,
They had new made 'um fine long Poles,
New pitcht their Oars, and made new thoules;
Though many things were left undone,
They were so eager to be gone.

112

Then might you see 'um make their Sallies
From Carthage Town, through Lanes and Allies,
Stealing away with lewd intentions,
To cheat the Tyrians of their Pensions,
Fearing their Landladies would brabble,
And dun 'um for their Quarters Table.
As Hedg-hogs when they go to th' Wood,
To fetch a hoard of Winter food,
Return well laden with their Victles,
Fine yellow Crabs stuck round their prickles:
Even so the Trojans without doubt,
Were at this season hung about
With Fardles, Bundles, Bags, and Wallets,
To cloath their Backs, and feed their Pallats.
But what thought Dido in this case,
When thus she saw them slink their wayes.
From Garret-Window saw 'um row,
And heard 'um crying Eastward Hoe!
To see how love makes Folks do things,
Against the Hair, against the shins!

113

For she though full of Indignation,
To be forsaken in this fashion;
And had she known but how to get him,
Could doubtless without salt have eat him:
Yet ne'rtheless, Love over-ruling,
She fell again to her old puling;
And once more meant to try if pity
Would not recall him to the City.
Look thee (quoth she) where he (my Nancy)
Whose able parts I do much fansie,
Has trust up all his Tools together,
To carry 'um the Lord knows whither.
Hark how his Rabble Gang do shout,
And shove a stern to hasten out;
A rout of base unthankful Peasants!
The Devil cut their yelping weazens:
The bawling Rascals egg him on,
And make him madder to be gone.
Had I once dreamt the Tearing Devil
Could ever have been so uncivil,
Thus like a Jade to break his Teather;
I should have kept my legs together:
Or have made bold t' have ty'd him faster,
To the due limits of his Pasture:

114

But since he holds me at this distance,
I beg thy sisterly assistance:
Thou know'st the temper of the Block-head,
And to a hair canst fit his pocket:
Therefore (dear Nancy) I implore thee,
If e'r thou'lt do any thing for me,
Run to the Wharff with might and main,
And try to bring him back again:
I promise thee, and if I break
My word; pray Jove I break my neck.
If thou canst bring him to my Bow,
I'll give thee for thy pains a Cow.
Tell him I e'r had more discretion,
Then to joyn issues with the Grecian:
I neither did meddle nor make,
But as they brew'd, so let them bake:
Nor did I e'r make Skittle-pin-bones,
Or Bobbins of Anchises shin-bones:
Why should he then without all sense,
Thus use me like a Kitchin-wench?

115

I would but beg one kindness from him:
I will no more claim promise on him:
But only that he'l tarry here,
Half, or a Quarter of a Year;
Whereby I may, before he go,
Wean my self from a Bed-fellow:
Or (if my constitution can
Not well subsist without a man)
Until I can my self supply,
With one to do my drudgery.
I'll ask no further obligation,
But let him to his Navigation;
He may to Latium then address,
And swim or sink, all's one to Bess.

Scarce had the woful Dido done,
When Nan prepar'd her to be gone,
She tachs her Coats about her hanches,
And to the Water-side advances:
She tript so neatly to the Pyre,
It would have done one good to see her:
One would have thought she'd gone in hast,
Midwife to fetch, she went so fast.
At last she came unto the place
Where Dido's dear Æneas was;

116

She found him sit amongst his Mates,
The rest o'th' Trojan Runagates,
Pufft like a Foot-ball with vain-glory,
Roaring and drinking tory lory;
Like one that knew a pot i'th' pate,
Would be a mile or two i'th' Gate.

The Trojan had no sooner spide her,
But though he could not well abide her,
Yet 'cause he would part fairly with her,
He askt what Wind had blown her thither.

She putting finger in the eye,
(As Women when they list can cry)
Told him in what a sad condition,
Her Sister was: her last Petition,
And pray'd him as he was a true Man,
Not to undo a proper Woman.
But she might e'n have sav'd her juice,
And kept her tears for better use.
His resolution still opposes,
He would go spite of all their noses;
And like to hemp, which, as I take it,
The more you twist, you stronger make it:

117

Even so, the more she try'd to twind him,
She still more obstinate did find him.

Then Dido madder grew and madder,
No friend she had could now perswade her;
She stamp'd and star'd, as she were Wood,
And in her melancholy Mood,
Calling to mind in woful wise,
Æneas and his treacheries,
How often he had stab'd her honour,
That men would now make Ballads on her;
She was resolv'd without delay,
Fairly to make her self away,
And meant to put her resolution
Into most tragick execution.

She had alass! too just incitement
Thus to prefer her own Indictment;
And reason good, by all relation,
Thus to proceed to condemnation:
For such portents, and dire præsages,
As still have been Disasters Pages,
Foretold her overthrow so plainly,
She saw t' oppose it, would in vain be.

She call'd to wash, and do you think,
The Water turn'd as black as Ink;

118

And that by chance being Cherming-day,
Her Cream most strangely turn'd to Whay!
This Dido saw, but would by no means
Tell her own Sister of the omens.
But that which gave the most perswasion,
Unto her full determination,
Was this: she kept Sichæus bones
In a great Coffer made o'th' nonce,
As sundry others have done the like,
By way of Superstitious Relick,
In a dark Cellar under ground,
From whence each night a dismal sound,
Pierc't Dido's tender ear, and wisht her,
Nay like a husband admonisht her,
To fit her for her latter end,
For why he told her, as a friend,
That in a very short space, she
Should of this World, no Woman be.
The Scrich-Owls too, were her molesters,
Who still were chanting out their Vespers:
Besides she had her Fortune told her
When 'bout some dozen or so, no older;
That she should but one Husband have,
And after that a scurvey Knave,

119

Should steal her honour like a Thief,
And make her hang her self for grief:
These sad portents falling so thick,
And pat on one anothers neck,
Put the poor Queen beside her senses,
As a just Plague for her offences.
She dreams Æneas now is going,
Like a false friend to her undoing,
And that she must when Trojan goes,
For ever lose her play-fellows.
Which to a Womans cause sufficient,
Let her be ne'r so well condition'd,
To raise her to extravagancies,
When she must part with what she fansies.
Even as a Bitches fury up is,
When people come to steal her Puppies:
So far'd the wrathful Queen that day,
When Bilbo must be ta'n away:
She was so much concern'd about him,
She could not, would not, live without him:
But in her desp'rate resolutions,
Would hang her self to trie conclusions.

120

The time and manner she projected,
And that she might not be suspected,
She smug'd her visage up with smiles,
And thus her Sister Nan beguiles.

Nancy (quoth she) I've found at last
A way, for all Æneas haste;
If thou in the exploit wilt joyn,
Shall pay him back in his own Coin,
And bring him back by our contriving,
Since he's so goodly, Dead, or Living.
Seeing the Rogue my love disgraces,
I'll spoyl his sport in other places.

A mile from hence, or such a space,
Down in a bottom lies a place,
Farr out of all High-wayes and Roads,
Where nothing breeds, but Frogs and Toads,
Snakes, Adders, and such wicked Vermin,
That (can they catch 'um) will not spare men:
There in a Cave lies an old wretch,
An ugly rotten toothless Witch,
So old that one would think she were,
The eldest Devil's Grand-mother.

121

Now this old Beldame can do wonders,
If she but say the word, it Thunders,
Lightens, or Rains, or Hails, or Snows
Or any weather you'l suppose.
She'l make a Cowl-staff, by her spelling,
Amble like any double Gelding;
And in the dead o'th' night the base Hag,
Can of a Cudgel make a Race-Nag:
A Walnut she to Sea can rig out,
And of an Egg-shel make a Friggot;
Nay in a Thimble stemm the Flood,
Provide the Thimble be of Wood.
She can, where she does owe a spight,
Spoyl any Bridegrooms wedding-night,
And the Brides longing disappoint,
By vertue of a Codpiece-point.
She can make people love or hate,
Ev'n whom she please, and at what rate;
And by her Magick and her Spells,
Make Folks, or hang, or drown themselves.
In short, there's nothing that has ill in't,
But she has admirable skill in't;
And does her mischiefs too as quick,
As any Jugler does a trick.

122

I take the gods to witness Sister,
I'm led into this course sinister,
Out of no end men wicked call;
But only for revenge, that's all.
And since I am so basely crost,
I'll have this Hag, or it shall cost
More then I'll speak of; she perchance
May lead my Trojan such a dance,
Shall make him glad as fast as may be,
To come again, and cry peccavi;
Or make him hang himself at least,
For an example to the rest
O'th' tribe of false dissembling Yeomen,
That take a pride to ruine Women:
And by good luck she's now hard by here,
Come not an hour ago to Tyre,
Sent for it seems about no ill deed,
To bless a Sow that lies in Child-bed,
And I'll go fetch her by her favour
With a Sub-pœna, but I'll have her.
In the mean time go thou and tie
Fast to the great beam, where I lie,
The best new Halter thou canst choose,
And make a dainty running noose;
Like that fell to the Fellow's share,
That made a Woman of a Mare.

123

Then take me out Æneas rayment,
All I have left in part of payment:
His greasie Doublet and his Trowses,
Where many a wandring Trojan Louse is:
The Treasure he has left behind him.
In the great standing Press you'l find 'um:
Stuff me 'um up with Straw or Litter,
The worse the stuffing is, the fitter:
And ram the tatters with a vengeance,
As people use to ram their Engines:
Make haste and do as I have bid ye;
I'll hang the Rascal in Effigie:
So I'm advis'd to do, and so
I mean to serve him, if I blow;
Which, though I cannot wreak my teen, it
Will stay the stomach of my Spleen yet.

Thus having said, the Queen chang'd colour,
No Ghost could e'r look pitifuller.
One would have thought by her dejection,
And by her woful wan complection,
She had been going just o'th' sudden,
To drop and give the Crow a pudding.

124

Nancy, (although she saw the Queen
Ready to burst her hoops for teen)
And well enough mark'd how she look'd too,
Yet by her fine pretence was rook'd so,
She did no further on't consider,
But went about what she had bid her;
Dreaming no more then her last Even,
Dido had been so lewdly given.
Away therefore my Lass does trot,
And presently an Halter got,
Made of the best strong Hempen Teer,
And e'r a Cat could lick her ear,
Had tide it up with as much art,
As Don himself could do for's heart:
The rope, and say 'twas got o'th' sudden,
Did prove so prime a special good one,
That with a fair usage it might come,
To hang up Carthage all and some.
The Trojans Doublet she had fill'd so,
'Twas very strange the Buttons held so;
And that the cramming of his Breeches,
Had not quite broken out the stitches:
His very stockings, though they were,
About the feet, out of repair;
Yet she made shift to stuff each start-up,
And tie 'um to the rest on's Wardope:

125

Having thus brac'd him like a Drum,
She laid him out in Dido's room;
Display'd upon a fair long Board,
Ready when Dido gave the word,
To be advanc'd into the Halter,
Without the benefit on's Psalter.
Scarce had she thus dispos'd her trinckums,
When up the Stairs, behold the Queen comes,
Lading along th' old rotten Grammer,
Into her Highness matted Chamber.

When she was come, and saw the portly
Trophy in that most noble sort lye,
As she oft-times had seen the Sinner
Lie gorg'd on Benches after Dinner:
She fell again into a passion,
Caus'd by a sweet Commemoration
Of past delights, seeing those Breeches,
And humbly the old Gib beseeches,
To shew her utmost skill and cunning,
To keep her Trojan dear from running.

The nimble Witch bad her not fear,
But rest content, and be of good chear,
And she should see she'd make him stay,
Or foul her Art should say her nay.

With that the Hag began her charm,
You would have thought she'd had a swarm

126

Of Wasps or Hornets in her Throat,
There came so strange a humming out:
And as she spoke, her hollow chaps,
Bound up in two thin shrivell'd flaps
Of old abominable Leather,
Like Bellows heav'd and clapt together.
Her little eyes being fiery red,
Were sunk so far into her head,
They lookt, when most she star'd at full,
Like farthing Candles in a Scull.
Her Nose hung like an Arch between
Her wrinkled Forehead and her Chin.
A craggy passage, and uncouth,
Over the dreadful gulf her Mouth,
And Elf-locks hung so, on each shoulder,
'Twould make one tremble to behold her.

This Witch a ribble row rehearses,
Of scurvy names in scurvy Verses,
Which by the manner of her mouthing;
Was certainly Burlesq; or nothing.
And in these rhythms as round she limps,
Calls her Familiars and her Imps,
Sprinkling the Chamber in her motion
With a tepid brackish lotion,
For ought I know, of her own making,
By her much stirring, and pains taking.
A red-heart breaker next she mow'd off,
A Wart that Dido was full proud of,

127

And burnt it for a strong perfume,
And pow'rful Spell to make him come.
Then hand in hand to dance they fall,
A grave and solemn Magick brawl,
In such hard figures none could tread 'um,
But the old hobling Hag that led 'um.
Poor Dido too alass! made one,
Although her dancing dayes were done.
And though opprest with woe, and care, cut
Capers, and Tricotee'd it barefoot;
Imploring all the Deities,
At every step, both he's and she's,
To turn Æneas back, and make him
Follow the work he'd undertaken;
Or if he would not turn, t'afford
The grace to turn him over-board.
Thus to her footing the poor Jade,
Out of all measure curst and pray'd.
Against her Love had so offended,
Till dance and charm together ended.

'Twas now the time when Candles are
Repriev'd by the Extinguisher;

128

When every thing to fleep down lies,
Dogs in their Kennels, Hogs in Sties;
And Men and Women rest their heads
And heels, on Flocks, or Feather-beds.
Now Men, and Fishes, Birds, and Beast,
And every thing was laid to rest;
All but the woful Queen (alass!)
Who now was brought unto that pass,
What with her love, and what with spight,
She could not sleep one wink all night.
Her stomach now was piping hot,
It boyl'd and bubbled like a Pot,
And did so strong a wambling keep,
She fitter was to spew then sleep.

Have you not seen an Animal
Yclep't an Horse when in his Stall,
The Botts, that terrible disease,
Doth on his tender bowels seize,
What groans he fetches, and what pranks
He rowling playes upon the planks:
So Dido crost in her amours,
Tumbled away her sleeping hours.
Now on her back and in such fashion,
As if she lay for consolation;
Now on her belly, now her side,
All postures, and all wayes she try'd;

129

But all in vain, nothing would do,
Her heart was so opprest with wo,
And love within her did so rumble,
She could do nought but toss, and tumble,
At last in midst of agitation,
She thus brake out into a passion;

Which way poor Dido should thou turn thee
Whilest cruel love, does thus heart-burn thee,
Thou hast of hope not one poor spark left,
Th'ast brought thy Hogs to a fair Market.
Not one poor dram of Consolation,
O Woman vile in desperation!
What shall I do in this condition,
To keep me from the Worlds derision?
Shall I invite to be my spouse,
Some one I have forbid my house?
Some saucie, proud New-Indian Jack,
And humbly beg of him to take
Æneas leavings, or like Trull here,
Run away basely with this Sculler.

130

Or shall I raise the Town in swarms,
And bring him back by force of Arms!
Alass, I fear it is no boot!
Foul means will never bring him to't,
No, no, I'll die! this Halter yet,
When all Trades fail, shall do the feat.
Ah, Sister, sister! hadst not thou,
Play'd Mistriss Quicklies Office so,
And sooth'd me up till I grew jolly,
I never had committed folly:
No, had I made the least resistance,
And kept the saucie Knave at distance,
I might have us'd him as my list,
And ne'r been brought to had I wist.

Thus lay the wretched Queen debating,
Nan, Fortune, and her Lover rating.
Whilest he Drum-ful with his Potation,
Ne'r dreaming on the doleful passion,
He had most vilely left his drab in,
Lay drunk and snoring in his Cabbin.

131

But Merc'ry though he slept profoundly,
Made bold to beat up's Quarters roundly,
And thus 'gan rattle him: Thou lousie,
Mangie, careless, drunken, drowsie
Coxcomb; how oft must I be sent
Hither from Jove to complement
Your worship to a reverent care
Of the young Bastard here, your heir?
Whilest fast thou ly'st tipled, or tipling;
Nor car'st what danger the poor stripling
Lies open to. Y'ad best snore on,
Some body will be here anon:
Take to'ther nap, Do, till the Queen come,
She'l reckon with you for your in-come.
She'l rowse ye faith! And (Goodman Letcher)
'Tis ten to one, with a good Stretcher
About your ears: Therefore my loving
Acquaintance, you were best be moving.
Upon my word th' advice is wholsom,
Stay not until that angry soul come:

132

For if thou dost, mark what I say,
And be'st not gone before't be day,
If Carthage been't about your ears
As soon as ever day appears,
And do not thrash you back and side,
Far worse then Agamemnon did,
Those of your Woman-stealing rabble.
Give me but six pence, if thou'rt able,
And here's my hand, I do not sport,
I'll give thee twenty shillings for't.
Thus having said, away he flies,
E'r Toss-pot could unglew his eyes,
Which were so cemented in that case,
The Page was got as far as Atlas,
Back on his way e'r he could free 'um,
From gowl and matter fit to see him:
But having streakt and yawn'd a while,
Snorted, and kept the usual coil
That Drunkards use in such like cases,
And made some dozen Devils faces:
At last he got his eyes unglew'd
Into a pretty magnitude.
He star'd about to spie the Vision
Had giv'n that courteous admonition:
But 'twas so dark, as well it might,
Being 'twixt twelve and one at night;

133

That had the nimble Currier
In kindness staid his leisure there,
Though clad in Fallstaffs Kendal Green,
He could not possibly be seen.

Æneas troubled herewithal,
Seeing he could not see at all,
Starts from the tilt where he had lain,
And calls upon his Mates amain.

Rise Sirs (quoth he) and look about ye,
I've had from Jove another how d'ye,
His man was here, and calls to go still,
His sweaty pumps are in my nose still.
He swears and offer'd to lay odds on't,
And if he say't, I'll lay my --- on't.
That if we do not leave the Dock,
And get us hence by four a Clock,
We shall be murther'd if we were
Ten times as many as we are.
Therefore I think it not amiss for's
To lanch, for there are rods in piss for's.
Let us but ply our Oars like tall men,
Till we be got clear out of all ken.
Then if they have a mind to lace us,
Let Carthage if they can come trace us.

134

And thou (O Jove, top of my kin!)
Who hitherto so kind hast been,
If now thou stick, and do not fail's,
Let Dido whistle in our tails.

Thus having spoken, and thus pray'd,
Forthwith he drew his doughty blade,
And at one slash, to all mens wonder,
Cut the Boats triple Cord asunder.
At which the Gang, spur'd by so ample,
So mighty and renown'd example,
Cut all the rest; nor staying Brooks,
But let the Devil take the hooks,
And shipping Oars, to work they fall,
Like men that row'd for good and all.
Had it been day, no doubt one might
Have then beheld a gallant sight.
Neptune's great Whiskers had not been
So neatly brusht as they were then
Of many a year: Crabs that did nest
Full deep therein, could take no rest:

135

They lather'd him in the great Bason,
So admirably well, that Jason,
Although he shav'd the golden fleece,
Ne'r washt him half so well as these.

Aurora now, who I must tell ye,
Was gript with dolours in her belly,
Starts from her Couch, and o'r her head
Slipping on petticoat of red,
Forth of the morning doors she goes,
In hasty wise, to pluck a Rose;
When Dido, who was broad awake,
Hearing the rusty hinges creak,
Ran to her peeping hole to spie,
What was become o'th' Trojanry.
But out alass! The Devil a sail
Was left i'th' Port; bare as my nail
The Dock was stript; whilest far from shore
They row'd as they ne'r row'd before.
At which sad sight, in wrath (God bless us!)
Tearing her dainty yellow Tresses,
She sighing said, Was ever seen
So pitiful an undone Queen!
And shall this filthy Trojan Royster
Undo, as one would do an Oyster,

136

Poor Dido thus, and run away,
Maugre what I can do or say!
Hey, how the treach'rous wenching Knave
Bounces, and vaults from wave to wave,
As he were making Ducks and Drakes,
With Wherries upon Neptunes lakes!
The Devil sure farts in his poop,
And puffs his kicking Sculler up;
Or else some durty Suburb drab
Has helpt the Rascal to a clap,
And sent a running Nag to Sea,
He could not else make so much way.
Cannot I burn, nor sink their floats,
A lousie Fleet of rotten Boats!
Yes, I'm a Queen, to see my people;
Let none remember he's a Cripple:
But run and row, sound, and unsound,
And those you kill not, bring home bound!
But tarry goody Magistrate,
Your big commands come now too late.
Poor Dido, sorrow makes thee giddy,
They'r got to Sea five Leagues already.
Queen thou art mortal, and must die
A sacrifice to Letchery.

137

Time was thou mightst have something done,
But now farewel Dominion.
This was your huffing Trojan Captain,
That his fair Mothers smock was lapt in.
Of twenty Greeks, this was the Cob,
And brought his Gods away in's Phob,
And through the fire a pick a pack,
Bore the old sinner on his back,
Bed-rid Anchises; this was he
Made the brave voyage o'r the Sea.
This was your trusty Trojan, this:
Now he shews what a man he is!
Whilst he was here, why did I not
Cut the false Rogues devouring throat;
Or of his Bastard make a Pye,
And being bak'd in paste of Rye,
Make the good Trencher-man his nasty
Sire, eat his Brat for Mutton Pasty!
Why did I not, e'r this disgrace,
Kill him, and all his treacherous race?

138

I then had dy'd reveng'd, where I
Shall now depart most sneakingly.

Thou Sol who didst in pimping sort,
Because thou wouldst not spoil our sport,
Creep into Clouds, that rainy weather:
And you that brought young Folks together,
Procuress Juno, Jove and all
Ye members of Olympus Hall,
I charge ye, as y' are Folks of fashion,
Grant this my latest supplication.
If nothing can this Rogue withstand,
But that he must get safe to Land,
Let it be such a Land as he
Had better far upon the Sea,
With all his Com-rogues have been drown'd,
Than such a wretched place have found.
May he, where he expects his Leases,
Ne'r know what such a thing as Peace is;
But be drub'd daily back and side
Till his bones rattle in his hide.
May he ne'r sleep an hour in quiet,
But be disturb'd with rout and riot;

139

Black be his dayes, and may his nights
Swarm with Hob-Goblins, Ghosts, and Sprights,
May Strangers daunt him with Bravado's,
And Spirits son to the Barbado's:
May he at last fall worse then Sea-sick,
And find no Quack to give him Physick:
No help for money, or for love found,
But let him lie and rot above ground.
May none give house-room to the Mungril;
But let him perish on some Dunghil.
And when his treach'rous soul's departed,
Let his foul Carkass be deserted,
As Traitours Quarters men expose,
To Hogs and Dogs, and Kites and Crows.

This my last pray'r is, hear it then,
I shall ne'r trouble you again.
And be't your care, ye Tyrian Nation,
To plague this wicked Generation.
Kill 'um like Rats, that I may have
Heaps of the Rogues pil'd o'r my grave:

140

And may those children that are yet
To bear, and those that are to get,
Torment them still by Land and Water,
And still may those that follow after,
Hate worse and worse, that so it fall,
The last may hate them worst of all.

This said, she let a groan, and sigh'd
A doleful sigh, that prophesi'd
He thred was spun, and that the Parcæ
Would shortly cut it without mercy.
In mind she weigh'd, as she sat crying,
What kind of Death was best to die in.
Poyson she thought would not be quick,
And which was worse, would make her sick.
That being therefore wav'd, she thought,
That neatly cutting her own throat,
Might serve to do her business for her,
But that she thought upon with horrour,
Because 'twould hurt her; neither could
She well endure to see her bloud.
The next came in her thoughts was drowning,
That way she thought 'twould be a done thing,
Soon, and with some delight; for why
Sorrow had made her Grace adry.

141

But then again she fell a thinking,
She should be somewhat long a sinking,
Having been ever light of members,
And to disswade her more, remembers,
'Twould spoyl the cloaths might do some one
Credit, when she was dead and gone.

On these mature deliberations,
Shee lik'd none of these dying fashions:
But looking up and seeing the Rope
Ty'd to the beam i'th' Chamber top,
With neat alluring Noose, her sick-Grace
E'n long'd to wear it for a Neck-lace:
And in that Circle in conclusion,
She prick'd the point of resolution.
But an old Woman being by her,
One of her Chattels brought from Tyre,
An ancient Heir-loom to the Queen,
'Cause she her husbands Nurse had been:
She meant to send her first away,
On sleeveless errand (as we say)
That she might have her swing alone,
To do her Execution.

Cicely (quoth she) go to my Sister,
Bid her tie up her head, and wish her
To wash her hands in Bran or Flower,
And do you in like manner scoure

142

Your dirty Golls; for I intend to
Make a good Cheese, and for a friend too,
O'th' Mornings Milk; let it be her care
To take the great Brass Pan i'th' Larder,
And sile the Milk into't: and hear ye,
Take you the large Cheese-Fat i'th Dairy,
And scoure it clean with Sand; bid Jone too
Get on the Pot, that she may come too,
And when the Cheese is come, but brake it,
And call: for I'll come help to make it.

The hobling Trot limps down the Stairs,
And now the desp'rate Queen prepares;
Although her woful heart did pantle,
To make her self a sad example.
Towards the fatal string she moves
With tardy pace, as it behoves
Those who by Nicholas led astray,
Wilfully make themselves away.
When she came underneath the Halter,
The colour in her face did alter;
Whilst down her cheeks round liquor rowls,
As if her eyes had been at Bowls.
First she beholds with trickling eyes,
Æneas his most dear disguise:

143

And as the Trowses she survey'd,
Reflecting how she'ad been betray'd:
Sighing, cry'd out, Oh! thou who wert
The joy and comfort of my heart,
Whilst casket to my dearest Jewel;
But since the Fates have been so cruel,
My grief and shame, farewel for ever;
And here I prophesie that never,
Whoever may hereafter wear thee,
Shall mortall Bilbo e'r come near thee.
Farewel, my latest leave I take,
And kiss the Case for Ho-boys sake.

Thus having said, she mounts the Table,
Because though tall, she was not able
To reach the Halter, that must tie
Her fast to doleful destinie:
And having, like too apt a Scholler,
Thrust her plump neck into the coller,
As 'tis, you know, the hanging fashion,
She thus began her last Oration:

That I have liv'd (quoth she) and how,
I doubt (alass!) too many know;
But that I now will die, is known
To no one but my self alone,
And if I Natures debt do pay,
And hang my self before my day,
The censuring World can say but this,
That I'm the better Pay-mistriss:

144

And though I die a death they say,
Makes sufferers themselves bewray
And die uncleanly corps; yet I
Shall leave, although I purging die,
And go out strong as Candle-snuff,
A fame shall savour sweet enough.
For murther'd Spouse I've made amends yet
As far as stealing could revenge it,
And make Pygmalion that undid us,
Pay sauce for making people Widows.
And at my proper cost and charges,
A Village built, which for its largeness,
In a few years, might well have grown
To be a pretty Market-Town,
Had not this Trojan Varlet come
T'undo what all my care had done.

Then (going to turn off) But must
I go (quoth she) and is it just,
I die like Felon vile, or Traitor?
Sans vengeance on this Fornicator.
And whilst the Stallion proudly stalks it,
Must I be thus hang'd up for Hawks-meat?
Yes die, as 'twas foretold thee long since,
If but to trouble the Knaves conscience:

145

Then 'cause she would to part the sweeter,
A portion of Hopkins metre;
As people use at Execution,
For the decorum of conclusion,
Being too sad to sing, she sayes,
------
Which with a grace like his that pen'd it,
To her great comfort, being ended,
And ceremonies now compleat,
Proceeding to the final feat;
Thus, thus, (quoth she) to shades of night
I go, and thus I take my flight.

With that she from the Table swong,
And happy 'twas the Rope was strong
Enough, in such a swing to stop her,
Her Grace might else have broke her crupper.
So have I seen in Forrest tall,
From friendly cup the Acorn fall,
And Bully tumble from the Tree,
As ripe for hanging; Down fell she.
She caper'd twice or thrice most finely;
But th' Rope imbrac'd her neck so kindly:
Till at the last, in mortal trance,
She did conclude the dismal dance.
A yellow aromatick matter
Dropt from her heels, commixt with water,

146

Which sinking through the Chamber-floor,
Set all the house in sad uproar.
All at the first that they amiss thought,
Was that her Grace had mist the piss-pot:
But when the stairs they had ascended,
And saw her Majesty suspended,
The servants frighted past their senses,
Tumbled o'r Buffets, Forms, and Benches,
And ran to all the near abidings,
With open cry to tell the tidings.
Even like unto the dismal yowl,
When tristful Dogs at midnight howl:
Or like the Dirges that through nose
Humm out to daunt their Pagan Foes,
When holy Round-heads go to Battle,
With such a yell did Carthage rattle.
At the first news poor Nancy skreeks,
And tearing hair, and scratching cheeks,
Ran up the stairs, and like a fell-shrow,
Made all that stopt her, feel her elbow:
Till having jostled all opposers,
And thrust some twenty on their noses;

147

At last the place she set her feet on,
Where Dido hung to dry, or sweeten.

Was it for this, ah, sister, sister,
That I was sent to Gaffer Twister
To buy a Rope! was this (quoth she)
Your fine device to couzen me!
Could none a Halter else prepare ye,
But I must be made accessary!
Why knew I not thy dire intent, as
I still thy chiefest confident was!
What didst thou know, but kindly I,
Might e'n have hang'd for Company:
But in thy ruine, I and all
Thy people suffer, great and small.
And in this wilful woman-slaughter,
Th'ast hang'd up Carthage son and daughter.
But stay, methinks I am not hasty,
To close those eyes that stare so gastly.
Which said, her buttocks on the board
She soss'd, that all the Chamber roar'd.

148

And being active Lass and light,
At one jump more stood bolt upright.
Thrice in her arms did Nancy catch her,
Thrice thumpt her bosome to dispatch her.
And thrice her latest breath did roar,
In hollow sound, at postern-door.

Then Juno who had ever been
As 'twere, sworn sister to the Queen:
Hearing the lamentable cries,
That from her Village pierc'd the skies;
Down towards Carthage bent her looks,
Where seeing all things off the hooks,
And Dido in unseemly sort,
Hang dangling there, being sorry for't,
And loth a Queen in hempen tackle,
Should to Plebeians be spectacle;
She call'd a little Emissary,
That us'd her Embassies to carry,
One Mistriss Iris: a main pretty
Nimble House-wife, yes, and a witty,
One that if bidden once, would do't,
And had the length of Juno's foot
So right, that for her parts and feature,
She was become her Mistress creature.

149

This Girl was born (as Poets hint to's,)
At a small Hamlet near Olympus.
And though by birth a Dyers daughter,
Yet had her friends full well up-brought her,
And because Juno gave great Wages,
Preferr'd her thither for a Pagess.

Her Juno call'd away from starching,
And big with Tears, bid her be marching,
Put on her wings, and swiftly clip it,
To cut down Dido from the Gibbet.

Iris when young, had learn'd to fly
(As youth is full of waggery)
Of a tame Jack-daw that she had,
And for her journeys, lately made
Fine party-colour'd Wings to fly in,
No worse then of her Fathers Dying;
Who knowing that his Daughter was
To be preferr'd to such a place,
And what she must b' imploy'd about,
Had spar'd no cost to set her out.

At the command of Heavens Goddess,
She ties these Wings fast to her Bodice,
Which waving, did adorn the Skie,
With all the fair variety
Of colours that the Rain-bow shows,
When clad in her most gawdy cloths.

150

Full swift she flew, till coming near
Carthage, she made a Cancelleer,
And then a stoop, when having spy'd
Queen Dido's window staring wide;
(Set open you may well presume,
(As there was cause) to air the room,)
She nimbly, to all Folks amazement,
Whips, like a Swallow through the Cazement.

O'r Dido's head she took her stand,
And cry'd, whilst flourishing a brand,
Sent down from Juno Queen come I,
Epilogue to this Tragœdy.
And thus, O Dido, let thee loose,
From twitch of suffocating noose:
Which said, and tossing high her Blade
With great dexterity, the Maid
O wonderful! even at one side-blow
Spoyl'd a good Rope, and down dropt Dido.

FINIS.