 | The wits paraphras'd |  |
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PENELOPE TO ULYSSES.
The ARGUMENT.
The Rape of Helen, having carried all the Grecian Princes to the Seige of Troy. Ulysses, among the rest there signaliz'd his manhood and prudence particularly. But the Siege at an end, and he not returning with the other Captains, Penelope sends this Letter in Quest of him. She had renderd her self as deservedly famous on her part by resisting all the while the importunity of her suitors, with an unusuall Constancy and fidelity. She complains to Ulysses, of their Cariage, she likewise tells him her apprehensions and fears for him during the War, and since acquaints him with the ill posture of his family through his absence, and desires him to hasten home, as the only means to set all right again.
To thy own Pen at length break home;
Send not, but with a vengence come.
Troy does not keep you now to guzle,
Not twenty Troys are worth that buzle.
I wish the Ruffian some stout Seaman
Had Drown'd him bound to Lacedemon
I shou'd not then have half the grumblings
Of tedious days, and midnight tumblings.
Nor half the pains and Labour take,
And work and weave till fingers ake.
Send not, but with a vengence come.
Troy does not keep you now to guzle,
Not twenty Troys are worth that buzle.
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Had Drown'd him bound to Lacedemon
I shou'd not then have half the grumblings
Of tedious days, and midnight tumblings.
Nor half the pains and Labour take,
And work and weave till fingers ake.
I fear'd thy Coxcomb they did cuddle,
Which made my Spouts drop many a puddle.
The Trojans, were your Camp surrounding
At Hectors name, I fell a sowning.
When Nestor's Brat by Hector masterd,
My Ars made Buttons for the Bastard.
And how Patroclus paid for's sham,
I cou'd not chose but curs and dam.
Tlepolem got a prick ith' Breech,
And I cou'd not forbear to scratch.
What ever Greeks fell in the fray,
I straight fell down as dead as they.
Which made my Spouts drop many a puddle.
The Trojans, were your Camp surrounding
At Hectors name, I fell a sowning.
When Nestor's Brat by Hector masterd,
My Ars made Buttons for the Bastard.
And how Patroclus paid for's sham,
I cou'd not chose but curs and dam.
Tlepolem got a prick ith' Breech,
And I cou'd not forbear to scratch.
What ever Greeks fell in the fray,
I straight fell down as dead as they.
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Yet 'tis some Comfort in the showring
That thou shou'd live to scape a scowring.
Troy's burnt, amongst the blundering sots
My Husband's roreing or'e his pots.
The Bonfires blaze, the Rockets thunder,
And all our Cabbins cram'd with plunder.
The women rive their Husbands wallets,
And sing Troy's Downfall in new Ballats.
For very Joy we're grown so lavish,
The Wives their very Husbands ravish.
That thou shou'd live to scape a scowring.
Troy's burnt, amongst the blundering sots
My Husband's roreing or'e his pots.
The Bonfires blaze, the Rockets thunder,
And all our Cabbins cram'd with plunder.
The women rive their Husbands wallets,
And sing Troy's Downfall in new Ballats.
For very Joy we're grown so lavish,
The Wives their very Husbands ravish.
Some spil their Cups, and draw the fable
Of all the siege upon the Table.
This Simois, that the Sigan Hall was,
And this was Priams lofty Palace.
Here sculks Ulysses, there Achilles,
Here Hector torn with Mares and Fillies,
This I was All inform'd by Nestor,
And how you gave the foe a Glister.
Dolen nor Rhese your sword escaping,
Banter'd the one, took th'other napping.
Amongst the tents thou art fool hardy,
But to remember us too tardy.
Of all the siege upon the Table.
This Simois, that the Sigan Hall was,
And this was Priams lofty Palace.
Here sculks Ulysses, there Achilles,
Here Hector torn with Mares and Fillies,
This I was All inform'd by Nestor,
And how you gave the foe a Glister.
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Banter'd the one, took th'other napping.
Amongst the tents thou art fool hardy,
But to remember us too tardy.
Wast thou not raveing Mad to fall,
Oth' Camp thy self, and kill 'em all?
I thought thou had more grace or wit,
To take 'em when they were at sh---
And not to run such desperat Courses,
To rob their Crates, and steal their Horses.
Oth' Camp thy self, and kill 'em all?
I thought thou had more grace or wit,
To take 'em when they were at sh---
And not to run such desperat Courses,
To rob their Crates, and steal their Horses.
You Troy have rais'd out of the Margin,
What good have I got by the Bargain?
To your poor Pen it's all as one,
To Dildo damn'd to do alone,
For notwithstanding all your swaggar,
To me all's standing but your Daggar.
What good have I got by the Bargain?
To your poor Pen it's all as one,
To Dildo damn'd to do alone,
For notwithstanding all your swaggar,
To me all's standing but your Daggar.
Now Nettles grow in Priams stair-case,
Manur'd with Dung of Trojan carcass:
Nor court nor Cabbin, mud, nor stone;
Nor Trojan left, but sculls and Bones.
What mischief can detain thee now?
Am I not worthy then to know?
When all your friends are homewards thronging
To hang an Ars, and spoil my Longing.
Manur'd with Dung of Trojan carcass:
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Nor Trojan left, but sculls and Bones.
What mischief can detain thee now?
Am I not worthy then to know?
When all your friends are homewards thronging
To hang an Ars, and spoil my Longing.
Ther's not a Sculler makes a shore,
But I enquire thee 'ore and 'ore.
I call for Liquor to be nibling,
And o're the pot I fall a scribling.
To Pylos then I sent pell-mell,
But cou'd not have one syllable.
To Sparta too who can't devise in?
What course thou tak'st to practize in?
Wou'd I were certain of thy Landing,
Or that those Cabbins yet were standing;
Then might we, (had you kept your Meares,)
Know where abouts you 're with your beares.
But to be no where on the spot,
I fear, I fear,—I know not what.
And do suppect at this wide Distance
Thou'rt got amongst the wild Phylistins;
Or that you have forsook your shallop
To fall aboord some other trallop.
And tells her what a dowdy Mawkin
I am, that thus deserves your Bawking.
But I enquire thee 'ore and 'ore.
I call for Liquor to be nibling,
And o're the pot I fall a scribling.
To Pylos then I sent pell-mell,
But cou'd not have one syllable.
To Sparta too who can't devise in?
What course thou tak'st to practize in?
Wou'd I were certain of thy Landing,
Or that those Cabbins yet were standing;
Then might we, (had you kept your Meares,)
Know where abouts you 're with your beares.
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I fear, I fear,—I know not what.
And do suppect at this wide Distance
Thou'rt got amongst the wild Phylistins;
Or that you have forsook your shallop
To fall aboord some other trallop.
And tells her what a dowdy Mawkin
I am, that thus deserves your Bawking.
Plague on this jealous humour, rot it,
I'll never break my Brains about it.
Vanish vain thoughts, and shake your Crums,
He'l be with me when e're he comes.
My Father wou'd have had me truckled
To an old Fop, and made thee Cuckold.
He led me such a weary Life,
But let 'em raile, I am still thy wife.
I wou'd not yet, thy own dear Penny
Give my Ulysses for a Guennie.
Thy Loving Pen will make 'em flee for't,
And be thy wife, or else I'll die for't.
I'll never break my Brains about it.
Vanish vain thoughts, and shake your Crums,
He'l be with me when e're he comes.
My Father wou'd have had me truckled
To an old Fop, and made thee Cuckold.
He led me such a weary Life,
But let 'em raile, I am still thy wife.
I wou'd not yet, thy own dear Penny
Give my Ulysses for a Guennie.
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And be thy wife, or else I'll die for't.
From Crete, from Samos, Rhodes, and Zants,
Drunk every day with Ale and Nants,
Such Troops of Raggamuffins come,
As eat thee out of house and home.
Medon, and Polyb, and Pesander,
And gray Eurimachus the gander,
With thousands more defile your towels,
And feast upon our very Bowels.
Melanch, and Irus the Bulbeggar,
Riffle, and rummage up your Leager.
In mine and their own Dung they wallow,
And of my Breech the savour follow.
You're e'en but well enough rewarded,
Your house is like to be well guarded.
A feeble Gray-beard always tippling,
A helpless wife, and a young strippling;
Whom late we were like to loose the Spaniell
Half drown'd, as he but crost the Kennell.
But God forbid till 't be his Cours
To lay my head as well as yours:
And may the youth still live, and thrive,
While he sees any one alive.
Drunk every day with Ale and Nants,
Such Troops of Raggamuffins come,
As eat thee out of house and home.
Medon, and Polyb, and Pesander,
And gray Eurimachus the gander,
With thousands more defile your towels,
And feast upon our very Bowels.
Melanch, and Irus the Bulbeggar,
Riffle, and rummage up your Leager.
In mine and their own Dung they wallow,
And of my Breech the savour follow.
You're e'en but well enough rewarded,
Your house is like to be well guarded.
A feeble Gray-beard always tippling,
A helpless wife, and a young strippling;
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Half drown'd, as he but crost the Kennell.
But God forbid till 't be his Cours
To lay my head as well as yours:
And may the youth still live, and thrive,
While he sees any one alive.
The Nurse, the Hogheard, and the Hind
To wish the same are all so kind,
With old Laertes my protectors.
But what are they amongst the Hectors?
To trust Telemach, I had rather,
But hee's an Urchin like the Father.
I' what am I?—'las I'm not able
To deal with such a Ribble-Rabble.
To wish the same are all so kind,
With old Laertes my protectors.
But what are they amongst the Hectors?
To trust Telemach, I had rather,
But hee's an Urchin like the Father.
I' what am I?—'las I'm not able
To deal with such a Ribble-Rabble.
Come soon, or els the Devill burst you,
For you are all we have to trust to.
So may your son grow up a Scholar,
And old Laertes cease his Choler.
I blooming, when you gave the Bag,
Am now becom a wither'd Hag.
For you are all we have to trust to.
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And old Laertes cease his Choler.
I blooming, when you gave the Bag,
Am now becom a wither'd Hag.
| The wits paraphras'd | |