Homer Alamode, The Second Part, In English Burlesque Or, a Mock-Poem upon the Ninth Book of Iliads. Invented for the Meridian of Cambridge, where the Pole of Wit is elevated by several degrees |
 | I. | [PART I.] |
 | 2. |
 | Homer Alamode, The Second Part, In English Burlesque |  |
I. [PART I.]
To his Friend Anthony Le-Nobody, ON HIS Mock-Poem.
Scarron's a Fool, and Hudibras
He is, what is he? why an Ass.
And so's Leander's bawdy Poem,
And Maronides, if you know'um.
And other Folio's I ne'r saw,
Written by Lovers of ha-haw.
If but compar'd to what here comes,
I say, they are but meer Tom-thumbs!
And this I'm sure, though they're all vext,
You have kept closest to your Text;
And though they Somebodies would be,
They're Nothing, Nobody, to thee.
He is, what is he? why an Ass.
And so's Leander's bawdy Poem,
And Maronides, if you know'um.
And other Folio's I ne'r saw,
Written by Lovers of ha-haw.
If but compar'd to what here comes,
I say, they are but meer Tom-thumbs!
You have kept closest to your Text;
And though they Somebodies would be,
They're Nothing, Nobody, to thee.
Philippo-Hudibrantio-Love-Witto.
Dat. Scarronv-ottonia, Anno Risûs inventi, 5677.
THE PREFACE TO THE READER.
This Rhapsodie yclep'd Iota,
Is full of matter worth the note-a,
To wit, of words Homerical,
Much mirth, some sense, and faith that's all:
But that you may be wiser, than
A thousand other honest men,
(Who never know, what 'tis they read)
I'll tell you now, 'er I proceed.
Is full of matter worth the note-a,
To wit, of words Homerical,
Much mirth, some sense, and faith that's all:
A thousand other honest men,
(Who never know, what 'tis they read)
I'll tell you now, 'er I proceed.
THE Argument.
Once
on a time the Greek Gurmudgeons,
Were soundly banged by the Trojans;
But an old Gypsie, called Nox,
Sav'd the Rogues ears from further knocks:
But lousie Greeks in terrour micle,
Being scap'd, soon call'd a Conventicle.
There, while Atrides doth perswade
His bold Dragoons homeward to wade,
'Cause Jove made such a deadly pester;
Tydides, and old Crump-back'd Nestor,
Stood up and swore it should not be:
Then driveling Nestor (do you see?)
After he had well supt and bowzed
To th' Jury this Advice proposed:
That some good Beadles should be sent
Forthwith unto Achilles Tent,
To move by words, (not Sword or Hanger)
That he should straight depose his Anger.
But he, an ill-bred Clown, they say,
For all their Nauls did still cry nay:
And having play'd at Cards one game,
Sent 'um home like Fools as they came.
This doughty Message being told
To th' Greeks, they think it very bold;
Some their Mustachoes stroke and stare,
Some weep, while others curse and swear;
Some wash away sad thoughts with Nectar,
While others at Achilles Hector:
Thus for a while, Great Sir, they keep;
Then fall (like men of War) to sleep.
Were soundly banged by the Trojans;
But an old Gypsie, called Nox,
Sav'd the Rogues ears from further knocks:
But lousie Greeks in terrour micle,
Being scap'd, soon call'd a Conventicle.
There, while Atrides doth perswade
His bold Dragoons homeward to wade,
'Cause Jove made such a deadly pester;
Tydides, and old Crump-back'd Nestor,
Stood up and swore it should not be:
Then driveling Nestor (do you see?)
After he had well supt and bowzed
To th' Jury this Advice proposed:
That some good Beadles should be sent
Forthwith unto Achilles Tent,
That he should straight depose his Anger.
But he, an ill-bred Clown, they say,
For all their Nauls did still cry nay:
And having play'd at Cards one game,
Sent 'um home like Fools as they came.
This doughty Message being told
To th' Greeks, they think it very bold;
Some their Mustachoes stroke and stare,
Some weep, while others curse and swear;
Some wash away sad thoughts with Nectar,
While others at Achilles Hector:
Thus for a while, Great Sir, they keep;
Then fall (like men of War) to sleep.
1
A MOCK-POEM Upon the Ninth Book OF HOMER's ILIADS.
Thus
Trojans did at Sent'nel stand,
With Musquet ready cock't in hand;
But heavenly flight a Friend to fear,
Held every Grecian (by the Ear.)
While the stout Captain's grief doth 'rise,
And makes 'em put fingers in Nies.
Have you not seen how in a Churn,
Cream does at last to Butter turn,
While Bores or Jeoffery rouls the stick
And jumbles it about full quick?
Even thus, no otherwise I think,
The fearful Greeks began to stink;
And that Beef-courage, they so boasted,
Lookt now like meat twenty times roasted
But Great Atrides did appear
As chief in honour, chief in fear:
He first (if Poets are not liars)
Bad Corporal call the shrill-lung'd Cryers
Then bad the Cryers to convocate,
Some Persons he did nominate.
But without noise, lest the Greeks might
Suppose 'twas some Nocturnal spright,
And so for fear themselves be--- fright.
And he himself (though never so
In battel) now did foremost go.
In short they all in Council met,
And there like Hum-Drum Johns they sat
But Agamemnon 'mong 'um all,
Himself rose up, letting tears fall
As fast as streams from some high ground
A mercy 'twas they were not drown'd)
And sighing as if's heart would break,
In micle manner thus he spake:
Friends, Knights and Aldermen (d'ye see?)
Was ever mortal plagu'd like me!
And all through shirking Joves false plot,
That promis'd (but performed not.)
Nay swore to me each word he se'd
And bow'd each Oath his greasie head;
That I should Troy (the Devil knows when)
Destroy, and so go home agen:
But now this petty fogging Sot
Hath plainly shew'd his crafty plot,
‘And after all my Red-coats slain,
‘Bids me to Argos pack again.
‘And this forsooth is Jove's high will,
‘That hath, and doth do, mischief still.
‘'Tis he thumps down Cities at ease,
‘And crushes Towns, as men do Flees,
‘Because in Heaven secure he sits
‘From our revenge, and counts us Chits.
‘But now go too, nay run, I say,
‘And as I speak, let's all obey;
‘Let's home t'our Country Beef and Bacon
‘For Troy as yet cannot be taken.
Thus spake the mighty Greeks Commander
But all the rest, for fear of slander,
Stood mute, and though they were full glad,
Wisely pretended to be sad;
But at the last the roaring Rogue,
Tydides thus began his vogue.
‘You shabby Fool Atrides, first
‘I'll contradict you, do your worst;
‘(If leave in Counsel may be had:)
‘But pray, good King, do not be mad
‘You may remember, you're the man,
‘That scolding 'mong the Greeks began,
‘And said, I could no better shift
‘Than vile Tom-thumb, or Hickathrift;
‘Though all the Greeks both young & old
‘Know very well, Sir, I'm more bold:
‘But Faith, I think the Son of Crony,
‘Has destin'd you to be A Tony;
‘A Scepter truly he hath lent you,
‘But not one dram of mettal sent you:
‘D'ye think the Greeks stout Sons can do,
‘No better, Loggerhead, than you?
‘If you'll be jogging, I suppose,
‘The way lies fair before your Nose;
‘And there's your Cock-boats some seventeen-a,
‘That follow'd you from Town Mycena;
‘But th' rest (if we are no mistakers)
‘Will stay, till Trojans be turn'd Quakers.
‘But grant the rest should likewise go,
‘And all with you should homeward row,
‘Pray let 'um all budg home full pennyless,
‘Yet I intend with Couzen Sthenelus,
‘(Though Trojans so redoubted are)
‘To fight with them like Dog and Bear;
‘Not fearing storms or rainy weather,
‘Because Old Nicholas brought us hither.
This said, the Grecians gave a shout
In favour of this Knight no doubt;
But when their Caps they'd re-put-an
The Hostler Nestor thus began:
‘Tydides, you're both stout of fist,
‘And give good counsel, when you list:
‘Who is't dare contradict that fine O-
‘ration you made? Troth, none as I know.
‘But yet, spruce Gallant, all you've sed
‘Has not as yet knockt Nail on head;
‘Young years do sage Advice destroy,
‘And you might well be thought my Boy:
‘Yet you spoke well to th' King, for why?
‘Because you huff so gallantly.
‘But now go too; I, who your Father
‘Might well be call'd, my wits will gather,
‘And speak, which speech as I intend
‘Shall all things needful comprehend:
‘And no man sure shall me condemn,
‘Nè any else, nè Agamemn-
‘on, then the Exordium of its this,
‘He merits neither Friend nor Miss.
‘Nor house nor home, who e're he be,
‘That loves a Civil war to see.
‘Here's the Exordium, for the rest
‘To speak it over Ale 'tis best.
‘Wherefore, let us obey dark night,
‘And make a feast full of delight;
‘Because, when Hero's sit at Table,
‘To counsel best, I ween, they are able.
‘But let each Sentinel and Scout,
‘Lie in the Trench, the Wall without:
‘Young men, 'tis you I here advise;—
‘But you Atrides, you, whose guize
‘Is so Majestick, here to Night
‘Us Old men to a Foy invite;
‘And if you would a reason know,
‘'Tis fit, nay fit it should be so.
‘For in your Tent good Hogsheads stand,
‘Exported from the Thracian Land:
‘From forreign Seas in Grecian Lighters,
‘A 'Commodation good for fighters.
‘You've all th' advantage for't, to you
‘(For your good Wine) the Scepter's due;
‘For all, ev'n Thersite, that bold Elf,
‘Are rul'd by Bacchus and your self.
‘But when we're all together, and
‘Sitting at Table cannot stand,
‘We'll give our thoughts, and him I say
‘That counsels best, you shall obey;
‘For all the Greeks are in great want
‘Of good Advice (their Wits go scant.)
‘And at a desperate pinch appear,
‘Cause foes their Bonfires burn so near.
‘Who can rejoyce to see'um brave us?
‘Well—this Night will destroy or save us.
He said, and they that heard obey'd,
Thinking all Gospel that he said;
First, Nestor's Bastard Thrasymede,
That folks with bit and knock doth feed,
Went from the place with Arms in hand,
And swore he would as Sent'nel stand.
(I wot the Father had more wit,
While the Son stood, the Sire would sit.)
Then 'Scalaph and Ialmenus,
Mars-born (as Homer telleth us.)
Then Merion, Aphareus, Deipyre,
And Creon's Son, whom Threshold slippery,
Through too much hast on Buttocks flung;
'Twas Lycomede, that had this wrong.
Seven Captains of the Scout they were,
And each an hundred men did share
To be their guard; who some with brands,
Some with long Mop-staves arm'd their hands.
These 'twixt the Trench and Sconse did ly,
And there, instead of giving eye
To Foes proceedings, they began
To make huge fires, and ply the Kan.
But brave Atrides in his Tent,
A better Feast to th' Old men meant.
Twelve Bellarmines were first brought in,
Which he not valued of a Pin,
Nor did he reckon it as charge,
Because his quantum was so large.
Then five Neats-Tongues, ten Ducks, six Tarts,
(Drest by Cook Lawrel's cunning Arts.)
The Servitours on Table set,
But they'd forgot the Knives to whet.
This therefore being done, no do
Is made, but strait they all fall too.
But first of all, Agamemnon
Would needs begin to joak and pun.
For though his Wit was none 'oth'best,
He mainly lov'd to break a Jest.
Though you might sooner break your neck;
Yet, thus he quibled on**è feck—
‘Now Gentiles, be merry as Greeks,
And think the Trojans are but Leeks;
‘Though they cause water in our eyes
‘They're peel'd at last—(there the Wit lies.)
‘Now think not on grim Hector's wrong,
‘But on a shoulder of Neat-tongue,
‘A Gammon of Plum-porridge, which
‘Looks so, it makes my Chaps to itch.
‘Think on these Ducks for Dukes so fit;
‘(Plague, there's another piece of wit;)
‘Then on these Chines of Tart, and see
‘First you thank Jove for it, then me.
‘But above all think on this Bellarmine,
‘And his good Brethren in Cellar-mine.
‘Then say, The Devil's in't if these
‘Won't make you fight like Bevis'es.
This Wit in those days seem'd good sauce,
And was extoll'd with publick voice;
When straight impatient of delay,
All with joynt force fell on the prey;
But Homer (as I'm in this place)
Ne'r mentions they said any Grace;
But presently ('cause they made haste)
Hurries them to the end of th' Feast.
And thus I think his Verses rhime—
—When they, to wit, the Guests had done;
And Servitours had clear'd the Table,
Nestor began a silly Fable,
(Though his advice before was rated,
To be the best as I related,)
‘Agamemnon-alias-Atrides,
‘Whose power like your Name full wide is,
‘All's for your ends that now I speak,
‘Else Squire Ketch my weazen break!
‘To you Jove gave both Crown and right,
‘T' advise and govern folks in fight;
‘And eke to terrifie your foes
‘(With the bright lustre of your Nose.)
‘First therefore you should speak, dear Brother,
‘Then condescend to hear another,
‘And follow too, if he should be
‘A better Counsellor than thee.
‘And though your Brains, we know, are few,
‘Choice of Opinions given to you;
‘Because the want of a good Brain
‘Is cover'd with a Golden Chain.
‘But now I something utter shall,
‘That seems to me the best of all.
‘None can a better crotchet know,
‘Than which is in my Noddle now,
‘And which I evermore have had
‘Since, Sir, you were so pocky mad,
‘To vex Achilles, and to rob
‘Him of his Wench to do your job:
‘Although I absolutely swore,
‘You was too good for such an Wh---
‘And earnestly entreated you-Sir,
‘To slight the Wench and not abuse-her:
‘But you forsooth must be so high,
‘And huff the gods None progeny;
‘A man, whom all the gods (but Jove,
‘Doth in particular manner) love.
‘I say, you huff'd him; for you have.
‘His prize, and keep it, like a Knave.
‘But let us now a Council call,
‘That we may make amends for all,
‘By sending him words mild as Hony,
‘Gloves, Ribbands, Handkerchiefs & Mony.
‘Atrides strait this Answer gave 'ye,
‘O Gaffer, now I cry peccavi;
‘All that you say is too too true,
‘I'le say,—and give the Devil his due.
‘He was, I think, one of an hundred
‘Of Jove's acquaintance, or his kindred;
‘And Jove now (look, he cries, that speaks!)
‘Hath honour'd him, and damn'd the Greeks.
‘But seeing I've done so and so,
‘It can't be otherwise you know:
‘And yet to shew unfeign'd repentance,
‘I'le give him gifts, and very gentones:
‘Nay, you shall hear me count 'um all—
‘First, he shall have a quilted Ball
‘Made by fair Mab, the fairest Queen)
‘The preciest rarity 'er seen.
‘And then an Hat with Feather in it,
‘And then a dapple Spanish Gennit;
‘Seven joynted-Stools spick and span new,
‘And Silver Thimbles not a few.
‘Twenty brass Skellets, which will serve
‘To dress his meat, that he may'nt starve.
‘Twelve grunting Pigs, will fight for grains,
‘And bring their Master in great gains:
‘That man will never want for store,
‘And I dare swear, will ne'r be poor,
‘Whoever doth these Pigs possess,
‘So fam'd for valour and success;
‘Besides sometimes, I dare be bold,
‘They may from Dunghils rake up Gold.
‘But if these will not please him now,
‘I'le give him Pigs of his own Sow:
‘Seven Butterwenches, which once he
‘Himself from Lesbos brought to me,
‘Which I, because they were so fine
‘And beautiful, chose to be mine.
‘All these I'le give him, and beside
‘Bristebeard's Daughter, his own Bride,
‘Which though I took from him in rally,
‘I'le swear I ne'r boarded her Gally,
‘Id est, to give a bounce or two,
‘As Men and Women use to do:
‘And here this solemn Oath I'le swear,
‘By Garagantua's monstrous ware,
‘And by Pantagruel's huge Tarse,
‘And by the foistings of mine Ar---
‘Nay, and I'le swear by that same Od-piece
‘Of flesh, hangs dangling in Jove's Cod-piece,
‘Which being us'd in Copulation,
‘Makes an Heroick propagation;
‘Nay, now I'm swearing I don't care,
‘If I a thousand more Oaths swear.
‘These things at present; but, if we
‘Sack Priam's Town by Heavens decree,
‘There let him take what e're he please,
‘His Cabbins fill with Bread and Cheese,
‘Or such substantial House-provision;
‘When we shall make the Spoils division;
‘And twenty pretty Whores next Helen,
‘The very fairest, Troy do dwell in:
‘But if to Argos we arrive,
‘He shall, as sure as I'm alive,
‘Be made my Son in Law, and share
‘An equal love with mine own Heir,
‘Mine only Son, the Wag Orestes,
‘Who eats and drinks whatever best is.
‘I've three Girls brisk as Body-louse,
‘Remaining in my well-thatch'd House;
‘Rebecca, Susan, Katharine,
‘The loveliest Mopsies, e'r were seen;
‘These (let him take 'um all together,
‘Or which he will, I care not whether,)
‘Sha'nt cost a farthing; rather I
‘My Daughters dowry will amplifie
‘To such a sum, I lay a bet,
‘None ever gave his Daughter yet.
‘And here's her Portion, I'le unfold
‘One Pewter-plate of Guiney-Gold,
‘A Cloak, the glory of our House,
‘That scarce will entertain a Louse,
‘Deriv'd through many a Generation
‘From Jove, yet never out of fashion.
‘A rare pinckt-Doublet made of Silk,
‘As white (all but three spots) as milk;
‘Which the rough Courtier, Her'cles, wore,
‘When he woo'd Omphale, that Wh---
‘I had the Breeches too; but they
‘Being mortal, now are worn away.
‘And truly how could they hold stich
‘Long, against such a thwacking breech,
‘As Herc'les had, which made the Skies
‘Themselves to bow, when he did rise.
‘A pair of good Stockings to boot,
‘Only a little out of foot;
‘One pair of Sheets, which on my life
‘Were given by Juno to my Wife;
‘And seven brave Towns I'le likewise add,
‘As special Towns as may be had;
‘There's Bernewel (let me see) and Kinton
‘The fruitful ground of Cherry-Hinton:
‘Cophotia, where your deaf men dwell,
‘Nullum, where Honesty men sell;
‘Nihil, where Women all are chast,
‘And Amsterdam shall be the last.
‘These Towns (d'ye see) may all be found
‘Either above, or under-ground;
‘Besides, they're full of folks that will
‘Esteem him very highly still;
‘And reckon him as good a fellow,
‘As Scanderbeg or Punchanello,
‘Refusing not their Tithes to pay:
‘All this I'le give, if hee'l but lay
‘His bladders down; let him not be
‘Too peremptory, for we see
‘The Devil, because no Prayers move him,
‘No gods nor men for guts can love him.
‘And let him first make good demeanor,
‘Because he knows, I am his Senior.
‘And 'cause my Kingships more than his,
‘Or else perhaps I'd first seek Peace:
‘For what car'd I for Tom, or Rafe,
‘Or all the World, if Fame's not safe.
‘I'ld rather Earth's vast Globe unhoop,
‘Than leave Pantofles first to stoop.
‘When thus Atrides had come off,
‘Nestor, though troubled with the Cough,
‘Made shift this Answer to express:
‘O flower of perfect Nobleness,
‘Thou only bud of Honours tree,
‘(Or else Whoresbud, all's one to me)
‘Your tokens are so fragrant sweet,
‘None would refuse such dainty meat.
‘Then let's the cleanest Jips select,
‘(Cleanest to shew the more respect)
‘Whom we may send to' Achilles Tent,
‘And I'le declare Sans Complement
‘Their Names—(Cough hinders speaking faster)
‘First Phœnix, and Achilles Master,
‘Then Ajax, then Ulysses brave,
‘These men (though one's a filching knave,
‘Th' other a fool, the third a clown,)
‘I judge the fittest in the Town:
‘But for the Cryers (A plague rot 'um)
‘Ten groats to one, but I'd forgot 'um,
‘There Mr. Oddy, an odd man,
‘(Like Oddy the Antinomian,
‘That in the Learned Town of Cambridge
‘Preaches and brawls like Belman Bambridge,
‘For the Good cause, or Zealous fellow.)
‘And Broadbatt, of complexion yellow—
‘But water bring without delay,
‘And cease your chatt, while we all pray.
‘Off'ring Jove Water 'steed of Wine,
‘That he would favour this design.
This said, he pleas'd 'um special well,
But strait to work the Cryers fell;
And brought fair water, which, when they
Had wash'd their hands, they gave away
For a Drink-offering unto Jove,
Because they did not Water love;
And therefore, as we may divine,
Only themselves did bowze the Wine;
Which (when they could no drop perceive)
In moderation they did leave;
And now more valiant than before,
Fearless bid Porter open door.
When Greencoat Hostler Nestor told 'um,
(Thinking by nods t'instruct and mold'um)
A many things, but chiefly' Lysses,
To whom he made some such speech as this is,
‘Only to use all means he coo'd,
‘To move Achilles for his blood.
They to the Sea-shoar then repair,
Making to Neptune a long Prayer;
And kneeling down far off from Dover,
They run their Ave Maries over,
Begging in anguish of their Spirit
For Thetis (take not their own merit)
That they without all hurt or danger
Might mitigate Achilles Anger;
But after that these warlike Dons
Were come to th' Camp of Myrmidons,
Who first (d'ye think) they found by straying,
But the great Rogue Achilles, playing
On an old rotten Fiddle, made
By a great Artist in his Trade,
Eetion, whom Achilles slew
To gain his Fiddle, when 'twas new.
Twas once well-strung (as men are feigning)
But now had but one string remaining,
On which he'ld harp perpetually,
And learn to sing his Ballads by;
Or if you crost him in his humor,
No Injury could raise such tumor.
'Twould make him puff, and pout, and tear,
And flownce like Horse of my Lord Mayor;
And therefore Authors write, he plaid
Only, that's passion might be laid.
While there Patroclus stood before him,
Laughing, and making horns at's roaring;
And to himself cry'd Ha—ha—haw,
Still watching, lest Achilles saw—
But our Don Pedro's on proceed.
While Nemo doth the Vanguard lead,
'Chilles was singing at their entrance
The Ballad of the London Prentice.
Then they stood near the stout Musician,
Not doubting of his good condition;
And clapping him o'th' back full sudden,
Cry'd, what's Achilles turn'd Jack-pudden?
Achilles something at a stand,
Leapt from his stool with Harp in hand
(As some averr) more than a mile:
If so, he quickly did recoyl,
Else how a Devil should the sence
Be prov'd, that just proceeds from hence?
Then arch Patroclus left his—haw,
When he these Strangers coming saw;
Whom griping by the trusty Paw,
Achilles kindly thus saluted;
‘Your welcom, Sirs, sha'nt be disputed,
‘For you're my Friends, whence you may gather,
‘You're all as welcom as my Father.
‘Among the Greeks I count you Brothers,
‘Although I care not much for th' others.
This said, Achilles further treats 'um,
And in a matted-Chamber, seats 'um
On wicker-Chairs; cushions of Grease,
Or Grecian Cushions, which you please,
All stuck with Pins, (that fashion now
Would seem a little odd, I trow.)
Then to Patroclus thus did say,
‘Bring the great Pitcher sans delay,
‘And fill it full of Bottle Beer,
‘And bring a Cup for each man here,
‘T'avoid all slobbering or infection,
‘And bring the best at my direction;
‘Be sure you neither spare nor save,
‘For they're the lovingest Friends I have.
Patroclus first brought in for Cheer,
Tobacco, Candles, Pipes, and Beer;
And after that, at Friends desire,
He set a Pipkin on the fire,
And minc'd some Mutton in it small,
With Veal and Pork, and Bread and all.
Antomedon did hold the dish,
And great Achilles had his wish
To cut the meat; while sitting nigher
His friend Patroclus blew the fire.
Then on the Coals a Gridiron squats,
And on the Gridiron he broyl'd Sprats.
When they were done without least fault,
He like a Cook the Sprats did salt.
Then placing on the Table, Bread
In fine wrought-Baskets, Grace he said;
While on each Trencher great Pelides,
(Whose mouth than Billinsgate more wide is,)
Was pleas'd to lay an equal share,
Though something more he meant to spare
For his own self, which he deserv'd,
Because himself at Table serv'd.
Then, seeing what at bottom stuck,
'Cry'd, I am content with Pipkin-luck.
At this—he squats his heavy Bum
On th' other side the Dining-room,
Before Ulysses; but the thump
He gave the form with brawny Rump,
Made podex stink; which being hot,
Fir'd off a clever Volley-shot.
Then Ajax lifting up his Bowl,
Cry'd out, Gramercy foisting Soul.
Ulysses pledg'd, and swore, That Fart
Was token of a valiant heart.
But Phœnix, if he farts no faster,
(Said) he would never match his Master.
This was the Table-talk; but strait
Achilles interrupts the Chat,
And bids Patroclus sacrifice
The rest unto the Deities.
But had not Jove well-din'd that day,
He might have fasted, Authors say,
For all the meat Achilles gave him.
Though he desir'd him to save him
Some Cheshire-Cheese, yet he forsooth
Sav'd nothing worth Jove's licorish-tooth.
Thus then they eat, and when they'd done
(Their Teeth now still) their Tongues should run:
But first a Pack of Cards was lay'd
Upon the Table, so they play'd
At Langtre-loo (else Fame's a liar)
For Pins; but after ventur'd higher;
And (that I may not lack a Rhime)
Play'd for a Farthing every time.
But when their stock was Loo'd away,
They huff'd, and would no longer play,
Calling Achilles, Cheat and Gull,
And Nincompoop, and Hawk-nos'd Owl;
But when they'd scolded bellies full,
First, Ajax bobd Phœnix o'th' Nose,
And he trod on Ulysses Toes;
The sign being known, that subtle Rogue
Filling a bowl, did thus collogue,
‘Hail Great Achilles, now I'bserve
‘We scarce shall in three hour starve:
‘Such plenty, (Jove be thank'd and you)
‘(Often at home) now here I view.
‘Yet 'tis not
Feasting we much matter,
‘But Oh! our eyes run down with water.
‘And with sad hearts our Captains whine,
‘As fearing Fates have some design
‘Against our weal, and Faith we doubt
‘Whether our Boats will 'scape this bout,
‘Or perish; but should you appear,
‘(Your plaguy Nose) we should not fear.
‘The Trojans and their strength Auxiliary,
‘Have planted so their fierce Artillery,
‘Against our Bulwarks, and so near
‘Our Camp their Bonfires do appear,
‘Youl'd think both Parties but one Host,
‘And they themselves do make their boast.
‘That now all 'pedements are gone,
‘They'l fall upon our bones anon.
‘Jove so assists the Puppies still,
‘And claps them on the back to ill,
‘Crying, Go on, brave Boys, I say,
‘If Jove's for you, ne'r doubt the Day.
‘On which fierce Hector so relies,
‘He scorns both Men and Deities.
‘And staring like a new-stuck Pig,
‘Speaks words, and acts things mighty big.
‘And (being Horn-mad) with direful freaks,
‘He vents his furies on the Greeks.
‘And only now wishes broad-day,
‘Wherein he will (as he doth say)
‘Cut off our Lighters Noses, and
‘Then fiz their Tail with Firebrand;
‘And slaughter at his will the Greeks,
‘Being smoak'd like Onions, or dry'd Leeks.
‘These apprehensions make me quake,
‘Lest these foul threats effect should take.
‘And so alas! 't should prove our fate,
‘To die in Troy, when 'tis too late
‘Home to return; but Sir, if you
‘Will but one favour for us do,
‘Rise up and shew your self a man,
‘Then let the Rogues do what they can.
‘But if too late you chance to aid us,
‘And chowse the Trojans that invade us.
‘What pleasure will those dead-men do,
‘Whose very sight will make one spue?
‘When an ill's done, none can prevent it,
‘But he's the man that first can stint it.
‘Therefore my pretty Bully-rock,
‘Advise, how you may soonest knock
‘Your Foes all down, and drive away
‘From Grecian Fleet their fatal day.
‘My precious Pipin, sure your Sire
‘Did better thoughts that time inspire,
‘When from Pyecorner he did send
‘You, Agamemnon to attend.
‘Dear Chuck (quoth he) ne'r doubt success,
‘Pallas and Juno will express
‘Their Love to you; yet make no Riot,
‘But keep your surly Spirits quiet.
‘Hony you know's sweeter than Gall,
‘And Complaisance is lov'd by all.
‘Therefore no strife nor quarrels brew,
‘The Devil take you, if you do.
‘Thus spake, the Cuckold, I remember,
‘But you forget his Precepts tender.
‘And yet, if you will leave your wrath,
‘And keep your puffing for your broth,
‘Atrides, like a Civil friend,
‘Proffers fine Giggumbobs to send;
‘And if you will but lend an Ear,
‘I'le tell you every word (as near
‘As I remember) which he sed
‘Last night, before he went to bed;
‘In presence of this learned Cabal,
‘And many Persons more of Qual-
‘ity:—And first before them all
‘He promis'd you a quilted Ball;
‘And then an Hat with Feather in it,
‘And eke a dapple Spanish Gennit;
‘Seven joynted Stools, spick and span new,
‘And Silver Thimbles, not a few.
‘Twenty brass Skellets, which will serve
‘To dress your meat, that you mayn't starve.
‘Twelve grunting Pigs, will fight for Grains,
‘And bring their Masters in much gains;
‘That man will never want for store,
‘And he dare swear will ne'r be poor,
‘Whoever do these Pigs possess,
‘So fam'd for Valour and Success.
‘Besides, sometimes (as we were told)
‘They may from Dunghils rake up Gold.
‘But, if these will not please yòu now,
‘He'll give you Pigs of your own Sow.
‘Seven Butter-Wenches, which from Lesbos
‘You brought, being Victor at the Crossbows;
‘Which he, because so fair he knew them,
‘Chose out to do, aliàs undo, them.
‘All these he'll give you, and beside
‘Breslebeards Daughter, your own Bride,
‘Which though he took from you in rally,
‘He'll swear he ne'r boarded her Gally,
‘Id est, to give a bounce or two,
‘As Men and Women us'd to do.
‘And truly in most solemn habit,
‘I think he swore his whole Alph-abet.
‘Then thus proceeded; But if we
‘Sack Priam's Town by Heavens decree,
‘There you may take what e're you please,
‘Your Cabbins fill with Bread and Cheese,
‘Or such substantial House-provision;
‘When we shall make the Spoils division;
‘And twenty Captives you'l enjoy,
‘Next Helen, the bouncing'st Jade in Troy.
‘But if to Argos you arrive,
‘He vows you shall, (as he's alive)
‘Be made his Son in Law, and share
‘An equal love with his own Heir,
‘That young Arch-bastard, Wag Orestes,
‘Who eats and drinks whatever best is.
‘He'as three Girls, brisk as Body-louse,
‘Remaining in his well-thatch'd House;
‘Rebecca, Susan, Katharine,
‘The loveliest Mopsies, e'r were seen;
‘Those (though you take 'um all together,
‘Or which you will, he cares not whether)
‘Sha'nt cost a farthing; rather he
‘His Daughters dowry will amplifie
‘To such a sum, he'll lay a bet,
‘None ever gave his Daughter yet.
‘And here's her Portion, as he told,
‘A Pewter-plate of Guiney-Gold,
‘A Cloak, the glory of his House,
‘That scarce will entertain a Louse,
‘(For so it is made by art Ma-gick,
‘No Louse comes on't but breaks it neck.)
‘And though 'tis brought by old Tradition
‘From Jove, 'tis still in good condition.
‘Next a pinkt-Doublet, made of Silk,
‘As white (all but three spots) as milk,
‘Which the blunt Courtier Herc'les wore
‘Each day he went to see a Wh---
‘A pair of good Stockings to boot,
‘Only a little out at foot.
‘One pair of Sheets, which on his life
‘Were given by Juno to his Wife.
‘Nay seven brave Towns he'll likewise add,
‘As special Towns as may be had;
‘Barnwel the Rogue put first, then Kynton,
‘Then the fat fields of Cherry-Hinton.
‘Cophotia, where your Deaf men dwell;
‘Nullum, where Honesty men sell;
‘Nihil, where Women most are chast,
‘And Amsterdam I'm sure was last.
‘These Towns, he'll warrant, may be found
‘Either above or under-ground;
‘Besides they're full of Clowns, that will
‘Esteem you very highly still,
‘And reckon you as good a fellow
‘As Scanderbeg, or Punchanello,
‘Refusing not Cherries to pay;
‘All these he'll give, if you'll but lay
‘Your bladders down; but if so much is
‘The passion of your private grutches;
‘Yet let the Greeks publick Calamity
‘Infect your mind with noble clemency:
‘Then they (be sure) will cry you up,
‘Famous for fight, and eke for Cup.
‘And justly too, cause you so well
‘Can conquer Foes, and Flaggons quell:
‘But being tipled well with Nectar,
‘You cannot miss of mawling Hector;
‘For he'll come running to your Nose,
‘And call you Dastard, I suppose,
‘As often he would do to mad us,
‘Come up and sling huge Cow-turds at us,
‘In rage and fury, thinking we
‘Should dread those acts of Chevalry.
Thus spake the Many-troped wight,
But he that better was for flight
Than fight, God-wot, this Answer gave
‘Diogenes, to play the Knave.
‘Being not honest, I intend,
‘Not to equivocate with friend:
‘But all my mind in down right sense,
‘As I resolv'd to do long, since
‘I hate that man as I hate the Devil,
‘Whoever should be so uncivil
‘To speak one thing, another thinking,
‘And eke I hate nodding and winking;
‘Or any such unlawful means
‘That hide mens thoughts, as shells hide Beans.
‘Therefore to bring you to conclusion,
‘I'le tell you straight my resolution,
‘Atride will be an exc'lent man
‘For Rhet'rick, if so soon he can
‘Move me to fight, when lately ('Slid)
‘I had no thanks for what I did.
‘I see now, he rewards alike,
‘Both them that fly and them that strike;
‘And cause himself's a Coward, I ween
‘He honours Cowards, like Warlike men.
‘If here they any difference have,
‘Be sure they're both alike in Grave;
‘For Captains there no longer fight,
‘Nor Cowards for fear themselves besh**
‘Yet I that won such spoils, of gaining,
‘Have not one six-pence now remaining;
‘Only of Prizes, great and many,
‘I now have left but one Mill-penny;
‘Although for them I much endur'd,
‘And only was by heels secur'd.
‘Ev'n as a Bitch that feeds her Whelps
‘Doth starve her self, while them she helps,
‘Thus I have sometime watcht all night,
‘Drawing Indentures for their right;
‘And bloody daies in battel past,
‘To bring 'um back their Whores at last;
‘And with a few small Bean-shell Boats
‘Have won twelve Towns worth thrice twelve groats;
‘Nay with my Infantry, I think,
‘Have made 'leven Trojan Towns to stink,
‘And all that ever thence I plunder'd
‘(Not keeping one my self 'ith'hundred)
‘I gave Atride, he to content ye,
‘Where he gave one thing, kept back twenty;
‘Yet he some Tokens, I conceive,
‘For the Knights and Aldermen did leave,
‘And they still have them, only I
‘Must lose my prize and my Pigsny,
‘In whose sine Smock, enwrapt before,
‘I us'd to sleep all night, and snore.
‘Pray tell me why the Grecians fight,
‘Why did Atrides so excite
‘All Greece to War? pray, was it not
‘'Cause Paris pist in's Brothers Pot?
‘Was it not Helen to recover,
‘And does he think there is no Lover,
‘Will fight and huff for's Concubine,
‘Besides those two of Atrea's Line?
‘I'll warrant there is no such fool,
‘But loves his Wench with all his Tool;
‘As I for love of her do bleed,
‘Though she's a Kitchin-wench indeed,
‘But now because he's took my prize,
‘And plays the Rogue, and tells me Lies;
‘Let me not think to coax me so,
‘I'll not be gull'd twice, will I, no.
‘But Master Roger, good Ulysses,
‘With you and the Mayors of other Cities,
‘Let him consult, and valiantly
‘Bethwack the bones of th' Enemy
‘(Which I ne'r think he'll bring to pass)
‘Or tell him, he may kiss mine Ar---
‘Without mine help he hath already
‘Done many things; first he hath Edi-
‘fi'd a great Wall of Mortar micle,
‘Temper'd with Dung and Fasting-spittle.
‘And that being guarded by his Beadles,
‘He'th made a Trench all stuck with Needles,
Hobnails, Sparrables, Coblars-Awls,
‘Nettles, and Hooks from Butcher-stalls;
‘And round the Camp, (oh brave perseverance!)
‘He'th made a Moat full of Sir-Reverence,
‘Yet all these Warlike preparations
‘Cannot resist Hector's Invasions.
‘But when I fought my self, Ai! marry Son,
‘Hector durst never leave his Garrison.
‘And never did I think much more,
‘Than fling out Piss-pots from the door;
‘Pelt us sometimes with rotten Figs,
‘Or Coals to burn our Periwigs.
‘One time my scolding prov'd so tart,
‘It vext the Rogue to th' very heart,
‘And made him snatch his Cudgels up
‘Vowing revenge before he'ld sup.
‘But when he saw no huffs would shake me,
‘He fled, and bid the Devil take me.
‘And then for joy I gave a shout
‘Though late I lookt like any Clout.
‘But now because to fight I scorn,
‘When Breakfast's done to morrow morn,
‘As soon as ever Sluggards peep
‘I'll launch my Boats into the deep.
‘You'll see them ride on th' Hellespont,
‘And men a rowing, as they are wont.
‘But, if Winds favour on my word-a,
‘We'll in Pyecoyner sup the third day.
‘There I left many things together,
‘When (with a Pox) I first came hither;
‘But hence my Silver, Gold, and Brass,
‘With many an handsom juicy Lass,
‘I'll carry home—with all my Cop-
‘per, and set up a Brasiers Shop.
‘But that same knave, that gave a thing
‘To make the Devil a Gold-ring,
‘(Which is a Proverb Poets feign,
‘That means to give, and take again.)
‘Pray tell that Villain all I say
‘Aloud, and plainly at broad-day;
‘That all the Grecians may defie him,
‘Whoever have been chowsed by him.
‘A Brazen Rascal! though he be
‘So bold, he dare not look on me.
‘Ev'n as he brews so let him bake,
‘For I no more his part will take
‘Once on me he hath put a trick,
‘But shall no more; Well—well— Old Nick
‘Will once reward him for his pains,
‘For Jove hath took away his brains.
‘I scorn his gifts, though rich and rare (man)
‘And look upon him as a Carman.
‘Nay, though he gave thirty times more
‘Than what he has, or had before,
‘Or all the wealth that Orchomene,
‘Or the Egyptian Thebes contain,
‘In which (as Stories say of old)
‘The Chamber-floors are pav'd with Gold,
‘Diamonds are there no precious gems,
‘But lie like Pebbles in the Tems.
‘This City hath an hundred Gates,
‘Emboss'd about with costly Plates,
‘And each one hath two hundred Warriours,
‘(That learn to ride and fight at Barririours)
‘Nay, though his Presents should exceed
‘The numerous Vermin he doth breed;
‘Yet I sha'nt love Agamemnon
‘Till to black Harry he be gone.
‘But for Atrides greasie Daughter,
‘Shee'l hardly make my Chaps to water.
‘No,—though as chast as Venus she,
‘As rank a Scold as Xantip-pe;
‘Yet I'll not have her, let him take
‘Some tatter'd Rogue his Son to make;
‘For if I e'r my Country see,
‘My Dad himself shall marry me;
‘For about Snowhil and those quarters,
‘And near Pyecorner, good mens Daughters
‘There are, some Aldermens, and others
‘Whose Sires are 'Squires, Whores their Mothers.
‘Of these the prettiest I will take,
‘And her my fitting Doxy make;
‘Fitting ('cause, as they love Mankind,
‘So I to Women am inclin'd.)
‘Thus we two, jig and jole together,
‘Will live on what's left by my Father;
‘For troth I think it no good Polity
‘To die in Troy, and leave this jollity;
‘And faith I count my life worth more
‘Than ever London was before
‘The Fire; and have more pleasure in't
‘Than all th' Exchequer, or the Mint.
‘For lose an Ox, Horse, Sheep, and yet
‘You may again those Creatures get;
‘Nay you may, when you lose a Stool,
‘Find it again, if you're no fool:
‘But lose your life, and I dare swear,
‘When once it's whiskt into the Air
‘You'll ne'r regain it; though, when you're dead,
‘You search (like Carpenter) for head.
‘My Mother, when I did importune,
‘Being a Witch, once told my fortune,
‘That of two fates I should have choice,
‘And thus she strain'd her squeaking voice;
‘If you go to the Wars at Troy,
‘There is no remedy, my Boy,
‘But you must die; whence you may gather,
‘You'll ne'r go home to see your Father.
‘Which must be true I'll lay a flagon,
‘'Cause Mars is in a fiery Trigon.
‘But if you quarrel with no Trojan,
‘But homeward to your Country budge-on,
‘Then I by Magick can relate,
‘You will go home in spite of Fate.
‘But Homer then shall never know ye,
‘And so no Fame at all bestow ye;
‘And yet your lack of Fame shall be
‘Rewarded in an high degree
‘By a long-life, because you shall
‘(If you ne'r die) not die at all.
‘This is as sure as any Club,
‘(Jove keeps the Prophecy in's sob)
‘As Astrologer-heads suppose,
‘'Cause Saturn now doth Mars oppose,
‘'Cause Mercury's an Independent,
‘And Sol the ruler of th' Ascendant;
‘And Venus (one that so much known is)
‘Is Dildo'd by Cauda Draconis—
‘Which signifies, one way or other,
‘All these great things foretold by Mother.
‘This is the real cause, my Friends,
‘Why I wo'nt fight, ev'n mine own ends.
‘And I would likewise counsel you
‘To be as wise as I am too,
‘And homewards sail; for all your powers
‘Will ne'r shake Iliam's Past-board Towers;
‘Jove doth the People so uphold,
‘And makes them every day more bold.
‘But good men Dories, I exhort
‘You to your Greek Lords would resort,
‘And tell you Message, adding yet
‘The Messengers are all besh---
‘(Be that an honour fit for Jips)
‘And tell 'um they may gather Chips,
‘If they no better can devise
‘To save their stinking meat from Flies;
‘For sure, confounded dull they be,
‘To think their Gifts can alter me.
‘Well, Sirs, good night—but Phœnix may
‘Lodge here, that at the break of day
‘We may sail home; I'll not compel,
‘But if hel'l go with us, 'tis well.
This said, the rest like Fish stood mute,
Knowing 'twas folly to dispute;
Or else they had no Logick read,
Or Fear had made them almost dead;
But th' Old man Phœnix with Sore-eyes
Seeming to weep, at last did rise,
And thus in doleful manner speaks,
(Being it seems sworn friend to Greeks)
‘If then, Achilles, you prepare
‘For home, pray travel through the Air.
‘By Land you cannot, and by Sea
‘Sure you'll not go, deserting me—
‘Yes, but you'll go—and don't intend;
‘The Boats from burning to defend,
‘Because such wrath burns in your mind,
‘And I forsooth must stay behind,
‘How can you Child, find in your heart
‘From your old Pædagogue to part,
‘Whom your nown Dad unto you sent
‘That day you with Atrides went.
‘Went like a fool, for you knew nothing,
‘But just to put on your own Cloathing.
‘You little knew the Warlike fashion,
‘And scarce could make a Declamation,
‘Till I shew'd you by Topicks right,
‘How to make Speeches, and to fight.
‘And taught you many Arts and Tricks,
‘As Grammar, Tacticts, Politicks;
‘Then Cards, with Fox and Geese, and then
‘The Science of Legerdemain;
‘In which, because you had small wit,
‘I'll not so soon forsake you yet.
‘No, though some Deity would swear,
‘He would my dancing-days repair,
‘And make me such a sanguine Lad
‘As when through Greece I run from Dad,
‘(Scolding Amyntor, that Whore-Master)
‘I think the Devil could scarce run faster,
‘But 'cause you ne'r have heard the story,
‘If you'll attend here I ha't for ye.
‘Once on a season (to be short)
‘My Father kept a Whore for sport;
‘And so my Mother quite neglected,
‘For he the other Whore respected.
‘But then my Mother 'mong hard stones,
‘Fell down upon her Marrow-bones;
‘And beg'd that I, (she knew I had 'um)
‘Would give a clap unto this Madam,
‘She was a pretty Girl, 'tis truth,
‘In flower of beauty and of youth;
‘And thereupon I ne'r deny'd it,
‘But having won her, quickly did it.
‘My Dad renewing his old knocks,
‘Now being ancient, got the P---
‘And soon perceiving his condition
‘He swore hee'ld be the Maids perdition,
‘If she conceal'd her secrets longer:
‘Then she confess'd, 'twas I that wrong'd her.
‘I heard at Stair-foot all she se'd,
‘And softly then advanc't my head;
‘Where he though pissing soon beheld me,
‘And almost with the Piss-pot fell'd me.
‘But when he saw me 'scape that bout,
‘In direful Curses he burst out;
‘Invok't Hell, Fiends, Furies together,
‘And wish'd my Testicles might wither;
‘That none might from Man Tomas spring,
‘'Cause he had done so soul a thing.
‘But Pluto and damn'd Proserpine,
‘Deaf to good Prayers, did soon incline
‘To all his devilish Curses, and
‘I never since could make it st---
‘The thought whereof so troubled me,
‘That every where I seem'd to see
‘The Ghost of Bob with dreadful visage,
‘To threaten me for its hard usage.
‘One time I dream'd, a multitude
‘Of Maids and Women we pursu'd;
‘Like Thracian Tom-boys, who did tear
‘Orpheus, because hee'd cut off's Ware
‘In hate of female Venery,
‘E'r since hee'd lost Eurydice.
‘And truly they had torn me too,
‘If I had not got a Dildoe;
‘Which 'cause I was so slight a Dogger,
‘Methought they took it for true Roger.
‘ Next Morn I thought it no great matter,
‘If I should kill th' Old fornicator;
‘But that in midst of furious scope
‘I look'd at th' end and saw a—Rope.
‘Then how to flie I cast about,
‘But Friends would ne'r let me go out;
‘But us'd me very well, it should seem,
‘With Sugar-sops, with Curds and Cream,
‘Cordials, and Diar-bread and Figs,
‘And Ginger-bread, and Cakes and Whigs.
‘Thinking perhaps with such choice diet
‘To stop my mouth, and make me quiet;
‘And ever, when I had well fed,
‘Twelve Maids conducted me to Bed.
‘Thus I nine nights was forc't to sleep,
‘Whilst they by turns strict watch did keep.
‘And all the while there stood a Torch
‘At Chamber-door, 'nother in Porch;
‘But for all this on the tenth night,
‘The Maids being gone, it seems, to sh---
‘I drest my self, and in a sury
‘Broke op' the Doors, I will assure ye,
‘And Bread and Cheese with other food-in
‘My pockets cram'd, and some Black-pudden;
‘Then leaping o're the Garden-wall
‘I scap'd the Men, and Maids and all.
‘There, through the Country I did creep
‘Unto Pyecorner fam'd for Sheep;
‘Where the Cook Peleus took me in,
‘And said that I was of his Kin.
‘Much of me as his Son he made,
‘And kindly taught me all his Trade.
‘And when that I was better grown,
‘He gave to me a Shop of m'own;
‘Where I liv'd in Cook-Laurel's Art
‘Betwixt the Dolphin and the Hart;
‘And there my Child I nurtur'd thee
‘And lov'd, because thou lov'dst me;
‘And never couldst endure a seat
‘With any, but my self at meat.
‘Nor would a standing-Stool serve thee,
‘But thou must sit upon my knee;
‘And dandled there, I must forsooth
‘Adapt each Morsel to thy Tooth;
‘But yet to tell you, Sir, the truth,
‘After your Guts full well were cram'd,
‘Your Belly-sluce being unramm'd
‘Out would the morsels fly amain,
‘And to the Plates retire again.
‘Nay, and sometimes taking a nap,
‘You'ld spew a Gallon in my lap.
‘All this I've overgone for you,
‘And many other hardships too.
‘Hoping, because I had no Child,
‘That you (but lo! how I'm beguild)
‘Should be the Heir to my possessions,
‘And take my part on all occasions.
‘Dear 'Chilles therefore cease your ire,
‘The gods themselves (I am no Liar)
‘Though sometimes vext with Mortal men,
‘Are very quickly friends agen.
‘And gods are better (sure) than you,
‘And of more fame and vertue too.
‘Yet men with Vows, Spanish Tobacco
‘Good meat, and other things they lack-o.
‘May all their fury mitigate;
‘Nay, though a man prevaricate.
‘If he but prays for absolution
‘They'll give it him without delusion;
‘For Pray'rs from Jove derive their race,
‘Lame Jades with Pockholes in their face;
‘With furrow'd Cheeks and purblind Eyes,
‘Yet heal all mischief, whence they rise;
‘Mischief's a lusty strapping Lass,
‘So nimble, she doth Pray'rs surpass
‘In running, skips ye here and there,
‘Still brooding Trouble every where.
‘But if Pray'rs follow, then be sure,
‘What ever wound was made, they cure,
‘And heal the hurt Offenders have
‘With Chamber-lye and Pilgrim-salve;
‘Salt-liquor of their goggle Eyes,
‘And other wondrous remedies.
‘Now they love men of good Conditions,
‘And always grant 'um their Petitions:
‘But when Folks obstinate remain,
‘They to their Grandsire Jove complain;
‘And pray that he would mischief send 'um,
‘That by foul means he may amend 'um.
‘Then Sir John 'Chilles don't deny
‘To honour Pray'rs (Joves Progeny)
‘Who when they do a good man see,
‘Who knows not their deformity,
‘('Cause good men usually are blind)
‘Are ne'r deny'd a favour kind.
‘Had now Atrides sent me store
‘Of Presents, nor had promis'd more;
‘But had he still with wrath been fir'd,
‘I should not then have you desir'd
‘To cool your Passion, nor to help
‘The Greeks for love of such a Whelp.
‘But since that he hath sent you some
‘Gifts, and hath promis'd more to come;
‘Nay, and hath sent the best Lolpoops
‘Selected from the Grecian Troops.
‘Humbly t'implore you, such, I say,
‘With whom, when young, you us'd to play.
‘Let not their Speech and Journey too
‘Prove vain; then none shall e're blame you
‘For former Pettishness, but be
‘Glad for this present Courtesie.
‘And now I think on't I can tell
‘Stories of Hero's that befell;
‘When, though in Passion they were witty,
‘And for great Bribes were mov'd to pity.
‘But one, I never shall forget,
‘Which my Old Granny would repeat,
‘When in her turn she told a Tale
‘In Christmas time o're Pot of Ale.
‘And thus the business, Sir, was wrought,
‘The Cowards and the Wittols sought
‘Near Haledon, till on each side
‘All that were slain, in Battel dy'd.
‘The Wittols Caledon defended;
‘Cowards to burn it down intended.
‘And thus the quarrel did begin;
‘Diana for Old Oeneus's sin
‘(For at the time of Sacrifice
‘He gave to all the Deities;
‘But as for poor Diana, she
‘Could not obtain from him her Fee.
‘Whether he did forget profoundly,
‘Or would not give, he paid for't soundly)
‘For this, I say, being vext at guts,
‘A Boar into his ground she puts;
‘Who rent up Trees, devour'd his fruits,
‘And spoil'd a pair of Oeneus's Boots.
‘Against this Boar stout Meleager
‘Went, with a Pistol and a Dagger;
‘And dogging him about, at last
‘Lockt him in's Father's Stable fast.
‘Then to the door our Warriour comes,
‘'Tempting the Boar with both his Thumbs.
‘Boar, in revenge of such a scoff,
‘Ne'r doubted now to bite 'um off.
‘And so snaps at 'um, he ne'r lingers,
‘But claps in Pistol 'stead of fingers.
‘Off went the pop, but you may guess
‘The Boar ne'r eat so hot a mess;
‘And therefore feeling belly grumble
‘Kickt up his heels, and 'gan to tumble.
‘He knowing dead-Dogs will not grin,
‘With Tuck in hand boldly went in.
‘And then he said he kill'd the Boar,
‘Though, as I shew'd, 'twas done before.
‘He therefore now doth tear his Breeches,
‘And almost cracks his Twatling stitches.
‘Sprinkling himself with blood of Foe,
‘And vap'ring thus, to th' rest doth go,
‘Whom he had left a League behind,
‘(Waiting till he the Beast might find)
‘And shews his Breeches and the gore,
‘All which he swears was done by Boar:
‘But then to shew how well he sped,
‘From under Cloak he pulls the Head;
‘And told the Folks, how void of fears
‘They now might shake the Boar by th' Ears.
‘In short, the quarrel here was bred
‘About the Boar, and's rotten Head;
‘The Wittols said, the Skin was meant
‘To be the Cowards Tegument.
‘To whom the Cow'rds reply'd again,
‘Twas well for them the Boar was slain;
‘'Cause from his Head they might by stealth
‘Pick Brains, for use of Commonwealth.
‘These words fore-runners were of blows,
‘Whence both these Parishes prov'd foes.
‘Now to the story; While Meleager
‘Did in this battle fight and swagger,
‘The Cowards ever went to rack,
‘And though full many, still gave back.
‘But when Meleager 'gan great scuffles,
‘And needs would stand on his Pantosles,
‘(This mischief all from Choler rose)
‘He gave great 'vantage to his Foes.
‘For being vext at Mother's strife,
‘He kept within doors with his Wife;
‘Fair Maid, the Daughter of Marepiss,
‘And Gran-daughter, if I don't miss,
‘To Gammer Evans, and old Ide,
‘Who when he was alive defi'd
‘The stoutest Cudgel-play'rs, and coo'd
‘Shoot with a Bow like Robin Hood.
‘Who for a Wench being vext at guts
‘Beat Pheebe 'Pollo at the Butts.
‘This was her Gran-sire; but in fine
‘Her Parents call'd her Magdaline,
‘Because her Mother grievously
‘Did like Madge Howlet weep, and cry
‘To-hoot—to-hoo, when Phœbus swore,
‘And did by force make her an Wh---
‘With her Meleager lay in bed.
‘Being vext at Mother, as was sed;
‘Because she made a deadly pother
‘When he had only slain his Brother.
‘He did no other harm at all,
‘Yet she was mad for thing so small:
‘And therefore stamping on the ground,
‘A thousand times she call'd him Hound;
‘And on her knees did mildly pray
‘The Devil would take her Son away.
‘Besides, whenever he came in
‘She'd strait her scolding Cue begin;
‘And evermore 'midst Curses fell
‘She'ld fairly wish him sent to Hell.
‘But at this time their Tow'rs were ready
‘To fall, at least they stood not steady;
‘For why the Cowards Brick-bats threw
‘Against the Walls and Flint-stones too.
‘So that they lay at Rack and Manger;
‘But in the midst of all this danger,
‘The Wittols sent their Priests and Sages
‘To promise Meleager wages,
‘Twenty times more than formerly,
‘If he would take the pains to die.
‘(For why Foe fear'd him much 'tis true,
‘Since he the Boar so stoutly slew)
‘They promis'd him a pretty piece
‘Of ground, as any was in Greece;
‘Which they affirm'd to be as good
‘As that where Pannyer-Alley stood.
‘On half whereof young Crabs were set,
‘But th' other half bore nothing yet.
‘Besides his Father coming once
‘Had a foul fall upon the Stones,
‘And with his fall the whole house shook,
‘Yet for all this he courage took,
‘And humbly did implore his Son
‘To help; but nothing could be done.
‘Then Brethren beg'd, and that curst Wh**
‘His Mother; but he deny'd the more;
‘Nay ev'ry School-fellow and Friend did,
‘But none his resolution bended.
‘Till he saw his own Windows broke,
‘And th' Town ev'n now in flames to smoke.
‘Then's Wife it seems for her own sake,
‘Chiefly to him this speech did make;
‘Husband, the time's now come you'll see,
‘Those plaguy things foretold by me,
‘Which unto conquer'd Cities happen,
‘No Gentle-man must put his Cap on.
‘The Meats that in our Cupboards lie
‘Are made a prey to th' Enemy.
‘The Houses are possest by flames;
‘But then the Matrons and the Dames
‘Are made a prey to their Pri—pride;
‘Nay, they abuse the Boys beside.
‘But that which most of all I fear,
‘These Cow'rds like Danes will domineer.
‘He heard no more, but left his place,
‘And all with Soot besmear'd his face.
‘Huge Horns he fasten'd on his head,
‘And made his Cloaths all over red;
‘Then to his Ar---a Tail he ties,
‘But needs not to enlarge his eyes.
‘(For they to use a Phrase of Chaucers,
‘Were hugeous ones, and glar'd like Sawcers.)
‘Then on high Stilts (so goes the Fable)
‘He walks, to be more formidable.
‘In Left hand he bore Wild-fire bright,
‘And a huge smoaking T---in's Right.
‘And thus accountred he arose,
‘Though single, daring all his Foes.
‘The Cowards saw this monstrous Evil,
‘And cry'd, Alack! here comes the Devil.
‘And crying so, as who should say
‘Devil take last, run all away;
‘But only one was left behind
‘Whom he with T---had stricken blind.
‘Lo! thus his Passion he laid down
‘And sav'd both Wittols and the Town;
‘Though they ne'r gave his promis'd sum,
‘Because at first he would not come.
‘This Tale's for your instruction pen'd,
‘Oh! therefore do not you intend
‘After the Boats are burnt to fight,
‘But come while Gifts do you invite.
‘That Greeks with wonted flatteries
‘May raise your Coxcomb to the Skies;
‘But if you fight without your wages,
‘You'll be call'd fool by Sculls and Pages.
Thus spake the Reverend Pædagogue;
But oh! y'ill manner'd well fed Rogue
‘(Achilles answer'd) Fame I scorn,
‘Jove will in time exalt my horn
‘At his own will; which doth detain
‘Me here and shall, while guts remain;
‘(Which I pray Heaven may be long)
‘But now I'll sing another Song;
‘Pray leave your whining and your crying,
‘That Whelp Atrides gratifying.
‘Tis not your duty to take care
‘How such a Puppie's matters are;
‘For if you are so kind to him,
‘I'll tear your Carkass limb from limb.
‘Don't you know how it you behoves, Sir,
‘To love him whom your Master loves, or
‘To hate him whom your Master hates,
‘As th' only cause of these debates?
‘Come, you shall now board with me here,
‘And o're my Servants domineer.
‘But these same Shack-bags shall anon, Sir,
‘Go back t'Atrides with mine Answer.
‘To Night you shall your self confine
‘In a good Feather-bed of mine;
‘And we'll consult at Break of day
‘Whether we'd best to go or stay.
At this he gave a Nod with's head
To th' Jip, to make Phœnix his bead,
And said 'twas Twelve by Dial-Lunar,
Hoping his Guests would go the sooner;
Although it was not much past Eight,
Or at the most not near so late.
When Ajax, Telemon's stout Lad,
Some such Expostulation had:
‘Diogenes my Friend Ulysses,
‘I ne'r saw such a Clown as this is;
‘If we such Tattle longer hold,
‘Twenty to one our Broth proves cold.
‘Seeing all endeavours are but vain,
‘Pray let us ev'n go back again.
‘If we don't hasten, without doubt
‘This News will in Gazets come out.
‘'Tis therefore best, that first we carry
‘The News, though bad (and never tarry)
‘Unto our Friends and dear Acquaintance,
‘Who sit like Men (but very faint ones)
‘Expecting all till we come home.
‘Mean while Achilles, that Coxcomb,
‘Swelling with anger and vexations,
‘Forgets his Friends and near Relations.
‘Hard-hearted thing! Some I have known,
‘For death of Brother, or of Son,
‘Having 'gainst Murd'rer entred Action,
‘Did at the last take satisfaction;
‘And murd'rer still his Lease did hold,
‘Having redeem'd his neck with Gold;
‘But th' others Anger was abated,
‘And wrath with bribes was mitigated.
‘But you for one unlucky Jade,
‘Have a most horrid pudder made;
‘And on no terms will yield t'agree,
‘Though we'll give seven better than she;
‘And other things besides of value.
‘But now, dear Cuz, no longer dally,
‘Give us respect as persons sent
‘By all the Grecians to your Tent;
‘And who would fain be thought the most
‘Friendly to you of all the Host.
‘Achilles then with Cap in hand Sir,
‘Fleering at Ajax, gave this Answer;
‘Kind old Acquaintance, Man of might,
‘Methinks what you have spoke is right;
‘But oh! I am fill'd with many Troubles,
‘And all my Passion boils and bubbles.
‘And my Welch blood flies in my Face,
‘When I but think on that disgrace
‘Atrides laid upon me that time,
‘As if I could not easily fat-him!
‘But for your parts you may go home
‘And say, I n'er intend to come
‘In Martial guise, for Greece to fight,
‘Till Hector, that same swagg'ring Knight,
‘Beats up my Souldiers quarters, and
‘Knocks down his Foes, that they can't stand,
‘And makes their Lighters light with fire;
‘But though he comes so nigh or nigher,
‘As soon as e'r my force he feels,
‘I'll warrant you, he'll shew his heels.
This said, they all to part rose up,
But first took farewel of the Cup;
And, having done, for malice they
(When all was out) flung the'rest away.
Though it was Spic'd and Sugard too;
Then having now no more to do,
Away they trug'd jostling 'gainst Wall;
But 'Lysses he went first of all.
Patroclus, when these Guests were gone,
Bad Maids make Phœnix's Bed anon.
They strait obey'd, and laid on clean
Sheets, Pillow, Rug, and Blanquet green.
And there our Gaffer snoring lay
From Nine a Clock until broad-day:
But stout Achilles on a Bench
Lay all Night tumbling with his Wench,
Phorbas his Daughter, Moll the pretty,
Which he had stole from Lesbos City.
And vile Patroclus too (for both
Were Birds of feather I'll take Oath)
With Susan lay in Truckle-bed,
And there on pleasures Oysters fed;
Her formerly Achilles (knowing
His Friend like him would fain be doing)
Did freely give, having subdu'd
The potent Town of Barnwell rude.
But after these Legats de latere
Were come into Atrides Buttery;
The Greeks, whose Manners did not fail,
Gave them a plate or two of Ale;
And catching each by Bawdy-fist,
Cry'd, Sirs, you're welcome, pray how is't?
But first the King himself thus spake,
‘Ulysses, (but a Seat first take)
‘Tell's truly, does Achilles prove
‘Civil, and entertain my love?
‘Or does he still damn, curse and roar,
‘And vent his Passion as before?
To whom Ulysses thus reply'd,
‘Atrides fam'd both far and wide,
‘This fellow is a desp'rate Creature,
‘And rather now his Passion's greater
‘He scorns you and your gifts, he says,
‘And bids you try all lawful ways
‘To keep your paltry Boats from burning,
‘And he, he swears to morrow Morning,
‘As soon as Sluggards use to peep
‘Will launch his Boats into the deep;
‘And then began us to advise,
‘And others too, to be as wise,
‘As he imagines his Coxcomb:
‘In short, he would advise us home.
‘For we (he swore thorough and thorough)
‘Should never take this Trojan Borough:
‘For Jove of Trojan Squadrons is Chief,
‘And stirs 'um daily up to mischief.
‘Thus much he swore, I'll take my Oath;
‘But if you'll not believe my troth,
‘Here are as honest men, as live,
‘Can better Information give,
‘Ajax, and both the loud-lung'd Cryers;
‘But Gaffer Phœnix (we're no Liars)
‘Being fudled we've left there a Bed
‘Spuing, and very light of head;
‘If he will go with 'um 'tis well;
‘But 'Chilles swears, he'll not compel.
Thus spake the subtle Knave Ulysses,
But all the rest stood mute as Fishes;
Not knowing what to say that stound,
For he was plaguy cross they sound.
But strait the bawling-whelp Tydides
Thus boldly spoke to Goodman Trides.
‘O Agamemnon, Lord o'th' Host!
‘I wish'd, that I had rul'd the rost;
‘Then you should ne'r t'Achilles sent
‘These Fools, with such a Complement;
‘For now the Villain sees we lack him,
‘The thoughts whereof will prouder make him;
‘And if he vapour'd so before,
‘Now he will vapour ten times more.
‘But let him hang, or drown or rot
‘All's one to me, Faith I care not.
‘'Twill mad him much, to see us scoff him,
‘There ore let's take no notice of him;
‘But now prepare, as I would ha't,
‘Our hungry Maws to satiate,
‘And dust it hard (without this do)
‘Drink makes men wise and valiant too.
‘But when the Blew-nos'd morn appears
‘We'll fall about the Trojans ears;
‘Setting our Horsemen and Redcoats
‘In the fore-front to guard the Boats;
‘And th' rest shall follow, having got
‘Both Powder, Match and Musquet-shot:
‘And pray no more most Martial wight,
‘Do you your self go last to fight.
At this they all clapt Paws and shouted,
‘Wondring at saying so redoubted;
‘And when they'd all well fudled Nose,
‘With sleep they did their Sawcers close;
‘But Chiefs were hard at Venus's game,
‘While Commons only dream'd the same.
With Musquet ready cock't in hand;
But heavenly flight a Friend to fear,
Held every Grecian (by the Ear.)
While the stout Captain's grief doth 'rise,
And makes 'em put fingers in Nies.
Have you not seen how in a Churn,
Cream does at last to Butter turn,
2
And jumbles it about full quick?
Even thus, no otherwise I think,
The fearful Greeks began to stink;
And that Beef-courage, they so boasted,
Lookt now like meat twenty times roasted
But Great Atrides did appear
As chief in honour, chief in fear:
He first (if Poets are not liars)
Bad Corporal call the shrill-lung'd Cryers
Then bad the Cryers to convocate,
Some Persons he did nominate.
But without noise, lest the Greeks might
Suppose 'twas some Nocturnal spright,
And so for fear themselves be--- fright.
And he himself (though never so
In battel) now did foremost go.
In short they all in Council met,
And there like Hum-Drum Johns they sat
But Agamemnon 'mong 'um all,
Himself rose up, letting tears fall
3
A mercy 'twas they were not drown'd)
And sighing as if's heart would break,
In micle manner thus he spake:
Friends, Knights and Aldermen (d'ye see?)
Was ever mortal plagu'd like me!
And all through shirking Joves false plot,
That promis'd (but performed not.)
Nay swore to me each word he se'd
And bow'd each Oath his greasie head;
That I should Troy (the Devil knows when)
Destroy, and so go home agen:
But now this petty fogging Sot
Hath plainly shew'd his crafty plot,
‘And after all my Red-coats slain,
‘Bids me to Argos pack again.
‘And this forsooth is Jove's high will,
‘That hath, and doth do, mischief still.
‘'Tis he thumps down Cities at ease,
‘And crushes Towns, as men do Flees,
‘Because in Heaven secure he sits
‘From our revenge, and counts us Chits.
4
‘And as I speak, let's all obey;
‘Let's home t'our Country Beef and Bacon
‘For Troy as yet cannot be taken.
Thus spake the mighty Greeks Commander
But all the rest, for fear of slander,
Stood mute, and though they were full glad,
Wisely pretended to be sad;
But at the last the roaring Rogue,
Tydides thus began his vogue.
‘You shabby Fool Atrides, first
‘I'll contradict you, do your worst;
‘(If leave in Counsel may be had:)
‘But pray, good King, do not be mad
‘You may remember, you're the man,
‘That scolding 'mong the Greeks began,
‘And said, I could no better shift
‘Than vile Tom-thumb, or Hickathrift;
‘Though all the Greeks both young & old
‘Know very well, Sir, I'm more bold:
‘But Faith, I think the Son of Crony,
‘Has destin'd you to be A Tony;
5
‘But not one dram of mettal sent you:
‘D'ye think the Greeks stout Sons can do,
‘No better, Loggerhead, than you?
‘If you'll be jogging, I suppose,
‘The way lies fair before your Nose;
‘And there's your Cock-boats some seventeen-a,
‘That follow'd you from Town Mycena;
‘But th' rest (if we are no mistakers)
‘Will stay, till Trojans be turn'd Quakers.
‘But grant the rest should likewise go,
‘And all with you should homeward row,
‘Pray let 'um all budg home full pennyless,
‘Yet I intend with Couzen Sthenelus,
‘(Though Trojans so redoubted are)
‘To fight with them like Dog and Bear;
‘Not fearing storms or rainy weather,
‘Because Old Nicholas brought us hither.
This said, the Grecians gave a shout
In favour of this Knight no doubt;
6
The Hostler Nestor thus began:
‘Tydides, you're both stout of fist,
‘And give good counsel, when you list:
‘Who is't dare contradict that fine O-
‘ration you made? Troth, none as I know.
‘But yet, spruce Gallant, all you've sed
‘Has not as yet knockt Nail on head;
‘Young years do sage Advice destroy,
‘And you might well be thought my Boy:
‘Yet you spoke well to th' King, for why?
‘Because you huff so gallantly.
‘But now go too; I, who your Father
‘Might well be call'd, my wits will gather,
‘And speak, which speech as I intend
‘Shall all things needful comprehend:
‘And no man sure shall me condemn,
‘Nè any else, nè Agamemn-
‘on, then the Exordium of its this,
‘He merits neither Friend nor Miss.
‘Nor house nor home, who e're he be,
‘That loves a Civil war to see.
7
‘To speak it over Ale 'tis best.
‘Wherefore, let us obey dark night,
‘And make a feast full of delight;
‘Because, when Hero's sit at Table,
‘To counsel best, I ween, they are able.
‘But let each Sentinel and Scout,
‘Lie in the Trench, the Wall without:
‘Young men, 'tis you I here advise;—
‘But you Atrides, you, whose guize
‘Is so Majestick, here to Night
‘Us Old men to a Foy invite;
‘And if you would a reason know,
‘'Tis fit, nay fit it should be so.
‘For in your Tent good Hogsheads stand,
‘Exported from the Thracian Land:
‘From forreign Seas in Grecian Lighters,
‘A 'Commodation good for fighters.
‘You've all th' advantage for't, to you
‘(For your good Wine) the Scepter's due;
8
‘Are rul'd by Bacchus and your self.
‘But when we're all together, and
‘Sitting at Table cannot stand,
‘We'll give our thoughts, and him I say
‘That counsels best, you shall obey;
‘For all the Greeks are in great want
‘Of good Advice (their Wits go scant.)
‘And at a desperate pinch appear,
‘Cause foes their Bonfires burn so near.
‘Who can rejoyce to see'um brave us?
‘Well—this Night will destroy or save us.
He said, and they that heard obey'd,
Thinking all Gospel that he said;
First, Nestor's Bastard Thrasymede,
That folks with bit and knock doth feed,
Went from the place with Arms in hand,
And swore he would as Sent'nel stand.
(I wot the Father had more wit,
While the Son stood, the Sire would sit.)
Then 'Scalaph and Ialmenus,
Mars-born (as Homer telleth us.)
9
And Creon's Son, whom Threshold slippery,
Through too much hast on Buttocks flung;
'Twas Lycomede, that had this wrong.
Seven Captains of the Scout they were,
And each an hundred men did share
To be their guard; who some with brands,
Some with long Mop-staves arm'd their hands.
These 'twixt the Trench and Sconse did ly,
And there, instead of giving eye
To Foes proceedings, they began
To make huge fires, and ply the Kan.
But brave Atrides in his Tent,
A better Feast to th' Old men meant.
Twelve Bellarmines were first brought in,
Which he not valued of a Pin,
Nor did he reckon it as charge,
Because his quantum was so large.
Then five Neats-Tongues, ten Ducks, six Tarts,
(Drest by Cook Lawrel's cunning Arts.)
10
But they'd forgot the Knives to whet.
This therefore being done, no do
Is made, but strait they all fall too.
But first of all, Agamemnon
Would needs begin to joak and pun.
For though his Wit was none 'oth'best,
He mainly lov'd to break a Jest.
Though you might sooner break your neck;
Yet, thus he quibled on**è feck—
‘Now Gentiles, be merry as Greeks,
And think the Trojans are but Leeks;
‘Though they cause water in our eyes
‘They're peel'd at last—(there the Wit lies.)
‘Now think not on grim Hector's wrong,
‘But on a shoulder of Neat-tongue,
‘A Gammon of Plum-porridge, which
‘Looks so, it makes my Chaps to itch.
‘Think on these Ducks for Dukes so fit;
‘(Plague, there's another piece of wit;)
11
‘First you thank Jove for it, then me.
‘But above all think on this Bellarmine,
‘And his good Brethren in Cellar-mine.
‘Then say, The Devil's in't if these
‘Won't make you fight like Bevis'es.
This Wit in those days seem'd good sauce,
And was extoll'd with publick voice;
When straight impatient of delay,
All with joynt force fell on the prey;
But Homer (as I'm in this place)
Ne'r mentions they said any Grace;
But presently ('cause they made haste)
Hurries them to the end of th' Feast.
And thus I think his Verses rhime—
—When they, to wit, the Guests had done;
And Servitours had clear'd the Table,
Nestor began a silly Fable,
(Though his advice before was rated,
To be the best as I related,)
12
‘Whose power like your Name full wide is,
‘All's for your ends that now I speak,
‘Else Squire Ketch my weazen break!
‘To you Jove gave both Crown and right,
‘T' advise and govern folks in fight;
‘And eke to terrifie your foes
‘(With the bright lustre of your Nose.)
‘First therefore you should speak, dear Brother,
‘Then condescend to hear another,
‘And follow too, if he should be
‘A better Counsellor than thee.
‘And though your Brains, we know, are few,
‘Choice of Opinions given to you;
‘Because the want of a good Brain
‘Is cover'd with a Golden Chain.
‘But now I something utter shall,
‘That seems to me the best of all.
‘None can a better crotchet know,
‘Than which is in my Noddle now,
13
‘Since, Sir, you were so pocky mad,
‘To vex Achilles, and to rob
‘Him of his Wench to do your job:
‘Although I absolutely swore,
‘You was too good for such an Wh---
‘And earnestly entreated you-Sir,
‘To slight the Wench and not abuse-her:
‘But you forsooth must be so high,
‘And huff the gods None progeny;
‘A man, whom all the gods (but Jove,
‘Doth in particular manner) love.
‘I say, you huff'd him; for you have.
‘His prize, and keep it, like a Knave.
‘But let us now a Council call,
‘That we may make amends for all,
‘By sending him words mild as Hony,
‘Gloves, Ribbands, Handkerchiefs & Mony.
‘Atrides strait this Answer gave 'ye,
‘O Gaffer, now I cry peccavi;
‘All that you say is too too true,
‘I'le say,—and give the Devil his due.
14
‘Of Jove's acquaintance, or his kindred;
‘And Jove now (look, he cries, that speaks!)
‘Hath honour'd him, and damn'd the Greeks.
‘But seeing I've done so and so,
‘It can't be otherwise you know:
‘And yet to shew unfeign'd repentance,
‘I'le give him gifts, and very gentones:
‘Nay, you shall hear me count 'um all—
‘First, he shall have a quilted Ball
‘Made by fair Mab, the fairest Queen)
‘The preciest rarity 'er seen.
‘And then an Hat with Feather in it,
‘And then a dapple Spanish Gennit;
‘Seven joynted-Stools spick and span new,
‘And Silver Thimbles not a few.
‘Twenty brass Skellets, which will serve
‘To dress his meat, that he may'nt starve.
15
‘And bring their Master in great gains:
‘That man will never want for store,
‘And I dare swear, will ne'r be poor,
‘Whoever doth these Pigs possess,
‘So fam'd for valour and success;
‘Besides sometimes, I dare be bold,
‘They may from Dunghils rake up Gold.
‘But if these will not please him now,
‘I'le give him Pigs of his own Sow:
‘Seven Butterwenches, which once he
‘Himself from Lesbos brought to me,
‘Which I, because they were so fine
‘And beautiful, chose to be mine.
‘All these I'le give him, and beside
‘Bristebeard's Daughter, his own Bride,
‘Which though I took from him in rally,
‘I'le swear I ne'r boarded her Gally,
‘Id est, to give a bounce or two,
‘As Men and Women use to do:
16
‘By Garagantua's monstrous ware,
‘And by Pantagruel's huge Tarse,
‘And by the foistings of mine Ar---
‘Nay, and I'le swear by that same Od-piece
‘Of flesh, hangs dangling in Jove's Cod-piece,
‘Which being us'd in Copulation,
‘Makes an Heroick propagation;
‘Nay, now I'm swearing I don't care,
‘If I a thousand more Oaths swear.
‘These things at present; but, if we
‘Sack Priam's Town by Heavens decree,
‘There let him take what e're he please,
‘His Cabbins fill with Bread and Cheese,
‘Or such substantial House-provision;
‘When we shall make the Spoils division;
‘And twenty pretty Whores next Helen,
‘The very fairest, Troy do dwell in:
‘But if to Argos we arrive,
‘He shall, as sure as I'm alive,
17
‘An equal love with mine own Heir,
‘Mine only Son, the Wag Orestes,
‘Who eats and drinks whatever best is.
‘I've three Girls brisk as Body-louse,
‘Remaining in my well-thatch'd House;
‘Rebecca, Susan, Katharine,
‘The loveliest Mopsies, e'r were seen;
‘These (let him take 'um all together,
‘Or which he will, I care not whether,)
‘Sha'nt cost a farthing; rather I
‘My Daughters dowry will amplifie
‘To such a sum, I lay a bet,
‘None ever gave his Daughter yet.
‘And here's her Portion, I'le unfold
‘One Pewter-plate of Guiney-Gold,
‘A Cloak, the glory of our House,
‘That scarce will entertain a Louse,
‘Deriv'd through many a Generation
‘From Jove, yet never out of fashion.
18
‘As white (all but three spots) as milk;
‘Which the rough Courtier, Her'cles, wore,
‘When he woo'd Omphale, that Wh---
‘I had the Breeches too; but they
‘Being mortal, now are worn away.
‘And truly how could they hold stich
‘Long, against such a thwacking breech,
‘As Herc'les had, which made the Skies
‘Themselves to bow, when he did rise.
‘A pair of good Stockings to boot,
‘Only a little out of foot;
‘One pair of Sheets, which on my life
‘Were given by Juno to my Wife;
‘And seven brave Towns I'le likewise add,
‘As special Towns as may be had;
‘There's Bernewel (let me see) and Kinton
‘The fruitful ground of Cherry-Hinton:
‘Cophotia, where your deaf men dwell,
‘Nullum, where Honesty men sell;
19
‘And Amsterdam shall be the last.
‘These Towns (d'ye see) may all be found
‘Either above, or under-ground;
‘Besides, they're full of folks that will
‘Esteem him very highly still;
‘And reckon him as good a fellow,
‘As Scanderbeg or Punchanello,
‘Refusing not their Tithes to pay:
‘All this I'le give, if hee'l but lay
‘His bladders down; let him not be
‘Too peremptory, for we see
‘The Devil, because no Prayers move him,
‘No gods nor men for guts can love him.
‘And let him first make good demeanor,
‘Because he knows, I am his Senior.
‘And 'cause my Kingships more than his,
‘Or else perhaps I'd first seek Peace:
‘For what car'd I for Tom, or Rafe,
‘Or all the World, if Fame's not safe.
20
‘Than leave Pantofles first to stoop.
‘When thus Atrides had come off,
‘Nestor, though troubled with the Cough,
‘Made shift this Answer to express:
‘O flower of perfect Nobleness,
‘Thou only bud of Honours tree,
‘(Or else Whoresbud, all's one to me)
‘Your tokens are so fragrant sweet,
‘None would refuse such dainty meat.
‘Then let's the cleanest Jips select,
‘(Cleanest to shew the more respect)
‘Whom we may send to' Achilles Tent,
‘And I'le declare Sans Complement
‘Their Names—(Cough hinders speaking faster)
‘First Phœnix, and Achilles Master,
‘Then Ajax, then Ulysses brave,
‘These men (though one's a filching knave,
‘Th' other a fool, the third a clown,)
‘I judge the fittest in the Town:
21
‘Ten groats to one, but I'd forgot 'um,
‘There Mr. Oddy, an odd man,
‘(Like Oddy the Antinomian,
‘That in the Learned Town of Cambridge
‘Preaches and brawls like Belman Bambridge,
‘For the Good cause, or Zealous fellow.)
‘And Broadbatt, of complexion yellow—
‘But water bring without delay,
‘And cease your chatt, while we all pray.
‘Off'ring Jove Water 'steed of Wine,
‘That he would favour this design.
This said, he pleas'd 'um special well,
But strait to work the Cryers fell;
And brought fair water, which, when they
Had wash'd their hands, they gave away
For a Drink-offering unto Jove,
Because they did not Water love;
And therefore, as we may divine,
Only themselves did bowze the Wine;
22
In moderation they did leave;
And now more valiant than before,
Fearless bid Porter open door.
When Greencoat Hostler Nestor told 'um,
(Thinking by nods t'instruct and mold'um)
A many things, but chiefly' Lysses,
To whom he made some such speech as this is,
‘Only to use all means he coo'd,
‘To move Achilles for his blood.
They to the Sea-shoar then repair,
Making to Neptune a long Prayer;
And kneeling down far off from Dover,
They run their Ave Maries over,
Begging in anguish of their Spirit
For Thetis (take not their own merit)
That they without all hurt or danger
Might mitigate Achilles Anger;
23
Were come to th' Camp of Myrmidons,
Who first (d'ye think) they found by straying,
But the great Rogue Achilles, playing
On an old rotten Fiddle, made
By a great Artist in his Trade,
Eetion, whom Achilles slew
To gain his Fiddle, when 'twas new.
Twas once well-strung (as men are feigning)
But now had but one string remaining,
On which he'ld harp perpetually,
And learn to sing his Ballads by;
Or if you crost him in his humor,
No Injury could raise such tumor.
'Twould make him puff, and pout, and tear,
And flownce like Horse of my Lord Mayor;
And therefore Authors write, he plaid
Only, that's passion might be laid.
While there Patroclus stood before him,
Laughing, and making horns at's roaring;
24
Still watching, lest Achilles saw—
But our Don Pedro's on proceed.
While Nemo doth the Vanguard lead,
'Chilles was singing at their entrance
The Ballad of the London Prentice.
Then they stood near the stout Musician,
Not doubting of his good condition;
And clapping him o'th' back full sudden,
Cry'd, what's Achilles turn'd Jack-pudden?
Achilles something at a stand,
Leapt from his stool with Harp in hand
(As some averr) more than a mile:
If so, he quickly did recoyl,
Else how a Devil should the sence
Be prov'd, that just proceeds from hence?
Then arch Patroclus left his—haw,
When he these Strangers coming saw;
Whom griping by the trusty Paw,
Achilles kindly thus saluted;
‘Your welcom, Sirs, sha'nt be disputed,
25
‘You're all as welcom as my Father.
‘Among the Greeks I count you Brothers,
‘Although I care not much for th' others.
This said, Achilles further treats 'um,
And in a matted-Chamber, seats 'um
On wicker-Chairs; cushions of Grease,
Or Grecian Cushions, which you please,
All stuck with Pins, (that fashion now
Would seem a little odd, I trow.)
Then to Patroclus thus did say,
‘Bring the great Pitcher sans delay,
‘And fill it full of Bottle Beer,
‘And bring a Cup for each man here,
‘T'avoid all slobbering or infection,
‘And bring the best at my direction;
‘Be sure you neither spare nor save,
‘For they're the lovingest Friends I have.
Patroclus first brought in for Cheer,
Tobacco, Candles, Pipes, and Beer;
26
He set a Pipkin on the fire,
And minc'd some Mutton in it small,
With Veal and Pork, and Bread and all.
Antomedon did hold the dish,
And great Achilles had his wish
To cut the meat; while sitting nigher
His friend Patroclus blew the fire.
Then on the Coals a Gridiron squats,
And on the Gridiron he broyl'd Sprats.
When they were done without least fault,
He like a Cook the Sprats did salt.
Then placing on the Table, Bread
In fine wrought-Baskets, Grace he said;
While on each Trencher great Pelides,
(Whose mouth than Billinsgate more wide is,)
Was pleas'd to lay an equal share,
Though something more he meant to spare
For his own self, which he deserv'd,
Because himself at Table serv'd.
Then, seeing what at bottom stuck,
'Cry'd, I am content with Pipkin-luck.
27
On th' other side the Dining-room,
Before Ulysses; but the thump
He gave the form with brawny Rump,
Made podex stink; which being hot,
Fir'd off a clever Volley-shot.
Then Ajax lifting up his Bowl,
Cry'd out, Gramercy foisting Soul.
Ulysses pledg'd, and swore, That Fart
Was token of a valiant heart.
But Phœnix, if he farts no faster,
(Said) he would never match his Master.
This was the Table-talk; but strait
Achilles interrupts the Chat,
And bids Patroclus sacrifice
The rest unto the Deities.
But had not Jove well-din'd that day,
He might have fasted, Authors say,
For all the meat Achilles gave him.
Though he desir'd him to save him
Some Cheshire-Cheese, yet he forsooth
Sav'd nothing worth Jove's licorish-tooth.
28
(Their Teeth now still) their Tongues should run:
But first a Pack of Cards was lay'd
Upon the Table, so they play'd
At Langtre-loo (else Fame's a liar)
For Pins; but after ventur'd higher;
And (that I may not lack a Rhime)
Play'd for a Farthing every time.
But when their stock was Loo'd away,
They huff'd, and would no longer play,
Calling Achilles, Cheat and Gull,
And Nincompoop, and Hawk-nos'd Owl;
But when they'd scolded bellies full,
First, Ajax bobd Phœnix o'th' Nose,
And he trod on Ulysses Toes;
The sign being known, that subtle Rogue
Filling a bowl, did thus collogue,
‘Hail Great Achilles, now I'bserve
‘We scarce shall in three hour starve:
‘Such plenty, (Jove be thank'd and you)
‘(Often at home) now here I view.
29
‘But Oh! our eyes run down with water.
‘And with sad hearts our Captains whine,
‘As fearing Fates have some design
‘Against our weal, and Faith we doubt
‘Whether our Boats will 'scape this bout,
‘Or perish; but should you appear,
‘(Your plaguy Nose) we should not fear.
‘The Trojans and their strength Auxiliary,
‘Have planted so their fierce Artillery,
‘Against our Bulwarks, and so near
‘Our Camp their Bonfires do appear,
‘Youl'd think both Parties but one Host,
‘And they themselves do make their boast.
‘That now all 'pedements are gone,
‘They'l fall upon our bones anon.
‘Jove so assists the Puppies still,
‘And claps them on the back to ill,
‘Crying, Go on, brave Boys, I say,
‘If Jove's for you, ne'r doubt the Day.
‘On which fierce Hector so relies,
‘He scorns both Men and Deities.
30
‘Speaks words, and acts things mighty big.
‘And (being Horn-mad) with direful freaks,
‘He vents his furies on the Greeks.
‘And only now wishes broad-day,
‘Wherein he will (as he doth say)
‘Cut off our Lighters Noses, and
‘Then fiz their Tail with Firebrand;
‘And slaughter at his will the Greeks,
‘Being smoak'd like Onions, or dry'd Leeks.
‘These apprehensions make me quake,
‘Lest these foul threats effect should take.
‘And so alas! 't should prove our fate,
‘To die in Troy, when 'tis too late
‘Home to return; but Sir, if you
‘Will but one favour for us do,
‘Rise up and shew your self a man,
‘Then let the Rogues do what they can.
‘But if too late you chance to aid us,
‘And chowse the Trojans that invade us.
‘What pleasure will those dead-men do,
‘Whose very sight will make one spue?
31
‘But he's the man that first can stint it.
‘Therefore my pretty Bully-rock,
‘Advise, how you may soonest knock
‘Your Foes all down, and drive away
‘From Grecian Fleet their fatal day.
‘My precious Pipin, sure your Sire
‘Did better thoughts that time inspire,
‘When from Pyecorner he did send
‘You, Agamemnon to attend.
‘Dear Chuck (quoth he) ne'r doubt success,
‘Pallas and Juno will express
‘Their Love to you; yet make no Riot,
‘But keep your surly Spirits quiet.
‘Hony you know's sweeter than Gall,
‘And Complaisance is lov'd by all.
‘Therefore no strife nor quarrels brew,
‘The Devil take you, if you do.
‘Thus spake, the Cuckold, I remember,
‘But you forget his Precepts tender.
32
‘And keep your puffing for your broth,
‘Atrides, like a Civil friend,
‘Proffers fine Giggumbobs to send;
‘And if you will but lend an Ear,
‘I'le tell you every word (as near
‘As I remember) which he sed
‘Last night, before he went to bed;
‘In presence of this learned Cabal,
‘And many Persons more of Qual-
‘ity:—And first before them all
‘He promis'd you a quilted Ball;
‘And then an Hat with Feather in it,
‘And eke a dapple Spanish Gennit;
‘Seven joynted Stools, spick and span new,
‘And Silver Thimbles, not a few.
‘Twenty brass Skellets, which will serve
‘To dress your meat, that you mayn't starve.
‘Twelve grunting Pigs, will fight for Grains,
‘And bring their Masters in much gains;
33
‘And he dare swear will ne'r be poor,
‘Whoever do these Pigs possess,
‘So fam'd for Valour and Success.
‘Besides, sometimes (as we were told)
‘They may from Dunghils rake up Gold.
‘But, if these will not please yòu now,
‘He'll give you Pigs of your own Sow.
‘Seven Butter-Wenches, which from Lesbos
‘You brought, being Victor at the Crossbows;
‘Which he, because so fair he knew them,
‘Chose out to do, aliàs undo, them.
‘All these he'll give you, and beside
‘Breslebeards Daughter, your own Bride,
‘Which though he took from you in rally,
‘He'll swear he ne'r boarded her Gally,
‘Id est, to give a bounce or two,
‘As Men and Women us'd to do.
‘And truly in most solemn habit,
‘I think he swore his whole Alph-abet.
34
‘Sack Priam's Town by Heavens decree,
‘There you may take what e're you please,
‘Your Cabbins fill with Bread and Cheese,
‘Or such substantial House-provision;
‘When we shall make the Spoils division;
‘And twenty Captives you'l enjoy,
‘Next Helen, the bouncing'st Jade in Troy.
‘But if to Argos you arrive,
‘He vows you shall, (as he's alive)
‘Be made his Son in Law, and share
‘An equal love with his own Heir,
‘That young Arch-bastard, Wag Orestes,
‘Who eats and drinks whatever best is.
‘He'as three Girls, brisk as Body-louse,
‘Remaining in his well-thatch'd House;
‘Rebecca, Susan, Katharine,
‘The loveliest Mopsies, e'r were seen;
‘Those (though you take 'um all together,
‘Or which you will, he cares not whether)
‘Sha'nt cost a farthing; rather he
‘His Daughters dowry will amplifie
35
‘None ever gave his Daughter yet.
‘And here's her Portion, as he told,
‘A Pewter-plate of Guiney-Gold,
‘A Cloak, the glory of his House,
‘That scarce will entertain a Louse,
‘(For so it is made by art Ma-gick,
‘No Louse comes on't but breaks it neck.)
‘And though 'tis brought by old Tradition
‘From Jove, 'tis still in good condition.
‘Next a pinkt-Doublet, made of Silk,
‘As white (all but three spots) as milk,
‘Which the blunt Courtier Herc'les wore
‘Each day he went to see a Wh---
‘A pair of good Stockings to boot,
‘Only a little out at foot.
‘One pair of Sheets, which on his life
‘Were given by Juno to his Wife.
‘Nay seven brave Towns he'll likewise add,
‘As special Towns as may be had;
36
‘Then the fat fields of Cherry-Hinton.
‘Cophotia, where your Deaf men dwell;
‘Nullum, where Honesty men sell;
‘Nihil, where Women most are chast,
‘And Amsterdam I'm sure was last.
‘These Towns, he'll warrant, may be found
‘Either above or under-ground;
‘Besides they're full of Clowns, that will
‘Esteem you very highly still,
‘And reckon you as good a fellow
‘As Scanderbeg, or Punchanello,
‘Refusing not Cherries to pay;
‘All these he'll give, if you'll but lay
‘Your bladders down; but if so much is
‘The passion of your private grutches;
‘Yet let the Greeks publick Calamity
‘Infect your mind with noble clemency:
‘Then they (be sure) will cry you up,
‘Famous for fight, and eke for Cup.
37
‘Can conquer Foes, and Flaggons quell:
‘But being tipled well with Nectar,
‘You cannot miss of mawling Hector;
‘For he'll come running to your Nose,
‘And call you Dastard, I suppose,
‘As often he would do to mad us,
‘Come up and sling huge Cow-turds at us,
‘In rage and fury, thinking we
‘Should dread those acts of Chevalry.
Thus spake the Many-troped wight,
But he that better was for flight
Than fight, God-wot, this Answer gave
‘Diogenes, to play the Knave.
‘Being not honest, I intend,
‘Not to equivocate with friend:
‘But all my mind in down right sense,
‘As I resolv'd to do long, since
‘I hate that man as I hate the Devil,
‘Whoever should be so uncivil
‘To speak one thing, another thinking,
‘And eke I hate nodding and winking;
38
‘That hide mens thoughts, as shells hide Beans.
‘Therefore to bring you to conclusion,
‘I'le tell you straight my resolution,
‘Atride will be an exc'lent man
‘For Rhet'rick, if so soon he can
‘Move me to fight, when lately ('Slid)
‘I had no thanks for what I did.
‘I see now, he rewards alike,
‘Both them that fly and them that strike;
‘And cause himself's a Coward, I ween
‘He honours Cowards, like Warlike men.
‘If here they any difference have,
‘Be sure they're both alike in Grave;
‘For Captains there no longer fight,
‘Nor Cowards for fear themselves besh**
‘Yet I that won such spoils, of gaining,
‘Have not one six-pence now remaining;
‘Only of Prizes, great and many,
‘I now have left but one Mill-penny;
39
‘And only was by heels secur'd.
‘Ev'n as a Bitch that feeds her Whelps
‘Doth starve her self, while them she helps,
‘Thus I have sometime watcht all night,
‘Drawing Indentures for their right;
‘And bloody daies in battel past,
‘To bring 'um back their Whores at last;
‘And with a few small Bean-shell Boats
‘Have won twelve Towns worth thrice twelve groats;
‘Nay with my Infantry, I think,
‘Have made 'leven Trojan Towns to stink,
‘And all that ever thence I plunder'd
‘(Not keeping one my self 'ith'hundred)
‘I gave Atride, he to content ye,
‘Where he gave one thing, kept back twenty;
‘Yet he some Tokens, I conceive,
‘For the Knights and Aldermen did leave,
40
‘Must lose my prize and my Pigsny,
‘In whose sine Smock, enwrapt before,
‘I us'd to sleep all night, and snore.
‘Pray tell me why the Grecians fight,
‘Why did Atrides so excite
‘All Greece to War? pray, was it not
‘'Cause Paris pist in's Brothers Pot?
‘Was it not Helen to recover,
‘And does he think there is no Lover,
‘Will fight and huff for's Concubine,
‘Besides those two of Atrea's Line?
‘I'll warrant there is no such fool,
‘But loves his Wench with all his Tool;
‘As I for love of her do bleed,
‘Though she's a Kitchin-wench indeed,
‘But now because he's took my prize,
‘And plays the Rogue, and tells me Lies;
‘Let me not think to coax me so,
‘I'll not be gull'd twice, will I, no.
41
‘With you and the Mayors of other Cities,
‘Let him consult, and valiantly
‘Bethwack the bones of th' Enemy
‘(Which I ne'r think he'll bring to pass)
‘Or tell him, he may kiss mine Ar---
‘Without mine help he hath already
‘Done many things; first he hath Edi-
‘fi'd a great Wall of Mortar micle,
‘Temper'd with Dung and Fasting-spittle.
‘And that being guarded by his Beadles,
‘He'th made a Trench all stuck with Needles,
Hobnails, Sparrables, Coblars-Awls,
‘Nettles, and Hooks from Butcher-stalls;
‘And round the Camp, (oh brave perseverance!)
‘He'th made a Moat full of Sir-Reverence,
‘Yet all these Warlike preparations
‘Cannot resist Hector's Invasions.
42
‘Hector durst never leave his Garrison.
‘And never did I think much more,
‘Than fling out Piss-pots from the door;
‘Pelt us sometimes with rotten Figs,
‘Or Coals to burn our Periwigs.
‘One time my scolding prov'd so tart,
‘It vext the Rogue to th' very heart,
‘And made him snatch his Cudgels up
‘Vowing revenge before he'ld sup.
‘But when he saw no huffs would shake me,
‘He fled, and bid the Devil take me.
‘And then for joy I gave a shout
‘Though late I lookt like any Clout.
‘But now because to fight I scorn,
‘When Breakfast's done to morrow morn,
‘As soon as ever Sluggards peep
‘I'll launch my Boats into the deep.
‘You'll see them ride on th' Hellespont,
‘And men a rowing, as they are wont.
43
‘We'll in Pyecoyner sup the third day.
‘There I left many things together,
‘When (with a Pox) I first came hither;
‘But hence my Silver, Gold, and Brass,
‘With many an handsom juicy Lass,
‘I'll carry home—with all my Cop-
‘per, and set up a Brasiers Shop.
‘But that same knave, that gave a thing
‘To make the Devil a Gold-ring,
‘(Which is a Proverb Poets feign,
‘That means to give, and take again.)
‘Pray tell that Villain all I say
‘Aloud, and plainly at broad-day;
‘That all the Grecians may defie him,
‘Whoever have been chowsed by him.
‘A Brazen Rascal! though he be
‘So bold, he dare not look on me.
‘Ev'n as he brews so let him bake,
‘For I no more his part will take
44
‘But shall no more; Well—well— Old Nick
‘Will once reward him for his pains,
‘For Jove hath took away his brains.
‘I scorn his gifts, though rich and rare (man)
‘And look upon him as a Carman.
‘Nay, though he gave thirty times more
‘Than what he has, or had before,
‘Or all the wealth that Orchomene,
‘Or the Egyptian Thebes contain,
‘In which (as Stories say of old)
‘The Chamber-floors are pav'd with Gold,
‘Diamonds are there no precious gems,
‘But lie like Pebbles in the Tems.
‘This City hath an hundred Gates,
‘Emboss'd about with costly Plates,
‘And each one hath two hundred Warriours,
‘(That learn to ride and fight at Barririours)
45
‘The numerous Vermin he doth breed;
‘Yet I sha'nt love Agamemnon
‘Till to black Harry he be gone.
‘But for Atrides greasie Daughter,
‘Shee'l hardly make my Chaps to water.
‘No,—though as chast as Venus she,
‘As rank a Scold as Xantip-pe;
‘Yet I'll not have her, let him take
‘Some tatter'd Rogue his Son to make;
‘For if I e'r my Country see,
‘My Dad himself shall marry me;
‘For about Snowhil and those quarters,
‘And near Pyecorner, good mens Daughters
‘There are, some Aldermens, and others
‘Whose Sires are 'Squires, Whores their Mothers.
‘Of these the prettiest I will take,
‘And her my fitting Doxy make;
‘Fitting ('cause, as they love Mankind,
‘So I to Women am inclin'd.)
46
‘Will live on what's left by my Father;
‘For troth I think it no good Polity
‘To die in Troy, and leave this jollity;
‘And faith I count my life worth more
‘Than ever London was before
‘The Fire; and have more pleasure in't
‘Than all th' Exchequer, or the Mint.
‘For lose an Ox, Horse, Sheep, and yet
‘You may again those Creatures get;
‘Nay you may, when you lose a Stool,
‘Find it again, if you're no fool:
‘But lose your life, and I dare swear,
‘When once it's whiskt into the Air
‘You'll ne'r regain it; though, when you're dead,
‘You search (like Carpenter) for head.
‘My Mother, when I did importune,
‘Being a Witch, once told my fortune,
‘That of two fates I should have choice,
‘And thus she strain'd her squeaking voice;
47
‘There is no remedy, my Boy,
‘But you must die; whence you may gather,
‘You'll ne'r go home to see your Father.
‘Which must be true I'll lay a flagon,
‘'Cause Mars is in a fiery Trigon.
‘But if you quarrel with no Trojan,
‘But homeward to your Country budge-on,
‘Then I by Magick can relate,
‘You will go home in spite of Fate.
‘But Homer then shall never know ye,
‘And so no Fame at all bestow ye;
‘And yet your lack of Fame shall be
‘Rewarded in an high degree
‘By a long-life, because you shall
‘(If you ne'r die) not die at all.
‘This is as sure as any Club,
‘(Jove keeps the Prophecy in's sob)
48
‘'Cause Saturn now doth Mars oppose,
‘'Cause Mercury's an Independent,
‘And Sol the ruler of th' Ascendant;
‘And Venus (one that so much known is)
‘Is Dildo'd by Cauda Draconis—
‘Which signifies, one way or other,
‘All these great things foretold by Mother.
‘This is the real cause, my Friends,
‘Why I wo'nt fight, ev'n mine own ends.
‘And I would likewise counsel you
‘To be as wise as I am too,
‘And homewards sail; for all your powers
‘Will ne'r shake Iliam's Past-board Towers;
‘Jove doth the People so uphold,
‘And makes them every day more bold.
‘But good men Dories, I exhort
‘You to your Greek Lords would resort,
‘And tell you Message, adding yet
‘The Messengers are all besh---
49
‘And tell 'um they may gather Chips,
‘If they no better can devise
‘To save their stinking meat from Flies;
‘For sure, confounded dull they be,
‘To think their Gifts can alter me.
‘Well, Sirs, good night—but Phœnix may
‘Lodge here, that at the break of day
‘We may sail home; I'll not compel,
‘But if hel'l go with us, 'tis well.
This said, the rest like Fish stood mute,
Knowing 'twas folly to dispute;
Or else they had no Logick read,
Or Fear had made them almost dead;
But th' Old man Phœnix with Sore-eyes
Seeming to weep, at last did rise,
And thus in doleful manner speaks,
(Being it seems sworn friend to Greeks)
‘If then, Achilles, you prepare
‘For home, pray travel through the Air.
‘By Land you cannot, and by Sea
‘Sure you'll not go, deserting me—
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‘The Boats from burning to defend,
‘Because such wrath burns in your mind,
‘And I forsooth must stay behind,
‘How can you Child, find in your heart
‘From your old Pædagogue to part,
‘Whom your nown Dad unto you sent
‘That day you with Atrides went.
‘Went like a fool, for you knew nothing,
‘But just to put on your own Cloathing.
‘You little knew the Warlike fashion,
‘And scarce could make a Declamation,
‘Till I shew'd you by Topicks right,
‘How to make Speeches, and to fight.
‘And taught you many Arts and Tricks,
‘As Grammar, Tacticts, Politicks;
‘Then Cards, with Fox and Geese, and then
‘The Science of Legerdemain;
‘In which, because you had small wit,
‘I'll not so soon forsake you yet.
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‘He would my dancing-days repair,
‘And make me such a sanguine Lad
‘As when through Greece I run from Dad,
‘(Scolding Amyntor, that Whore-Master)
‘I think the Devil could scarce run faster,
‘But 'cause you ne'r have heard the story,
‘If you'll attend here I ha't for ye.
‘Once on a season (to be short)
‘My Father kept a Whore for sport;
‘And so my Mother quite neglected,
‘For he the other Whore respected.
‘But then my Mother 'mong hard stones,
‘Fell down upon her Marrow-bones;
‘And beg'd that I, (she knew I had 'um)
‘Would give a clap unto this Madam,
‘She was a pretty Girl, 'tis truth,
‘In flower of beauty and of youth;
‘And thereupon I ne'r deny'd it,
‘But having won her, quickly did it.
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‘Now being ancient, got the P---
‘And soon perceiving his condition
‘He swore hee'ld be the Maids perdition,
‘If she conceal'd her secrets longer:
‘Then she confess'd, 'twas I that wrong'd her.
‘I heard at Stair-foot all she se'd,
‘And softly then advanc't my head;
‘Where he though pissing soon beheld me,
‘And almost with the Piss-pot fell'd me.
‘But when he saw me 'scape that bout,
‘In direful Curses he burst out;
‘Invok't Hell, Fiends, Furies together,
‘And wish'd my Testicles might wither;
‘That none might from Man Tomas spring,
‘'Cause he had done so soul a thing.
‘But Pluto and damn'd Proserpine,
‘Deaf to good Prayers, did soon incline
‘To all his devilish Curses, and
‘I never since could make it st---
53
‘That every where I seem'd to see
‘The Ghost of Bob with dreadful visage,
‘To threaten me for its hard usage.
‘One time I dream'd, a multitude
‘Of Maids and Women we pursu'd;
‘Like Thracian Tom-boys, who did tear
‘Orpheus, because hee'd cut off's Ware
‘In hate of female Venery,
‘E'r since hee'd lost Eurydice.
‘And truly they had torn me too,
‘If I had not got a Dildoe;
‘Which 'cause I was so slight a Dogger,
‘Methought they took it for true Roger.
‘ Next Morn I thought it no great matter,
‘If I should kill th' Old fornicator;
‘But that in midst of furious scope
‘I look'd at th' end and saw a—Rope.
‘Then how to flie I cast about,
‘But Friends would ne'r let me go out;
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‘With Sugar-sops, with Curds and Cream,
‘Cordials, and Diar-bread and Figs,
‘And Ginger-bread, and Cakes and Whigs.
‘Thinking perhaps with such choice diet
‘To stop my mouth, and make me quiet;
‘And ever, when I had well fed,
‘Twelve Maids conducted me to Bed.
‘Thus I nine nights was forc't to sleep,
‘Whilst they by turns strict watch did keep.
‘And all the while there stood a Torch
‘At Chamber-door, 'nother in Porch;
‘But for all this on the tenth night,
‘The Maids being gone, it seems, to sh---
‘I drest my self, and in a sury
‘Broke op' the Doors, I will assure ye,
‘And Bread and Cheese with other food-in
‘My pockets cram'd, and some Black-pudden;
‘Then leaping o're the Garden-wall
‘I scap'd the Men, and Maids and all.
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‘Unto Pyecorner fam'd for Sheep;
‘Where the Cook Peleus took me in,
‘And said that I was of his Kin.
‘Much of me as his Son he made,
‘And kindly taught me all his Trade.
‘And when that I was better grown,
‘He gave to me a Shop of m'own;
‘Where I liv'd in Cook-Laurel's Art
‘Betwixt the Dolphin and the Hart;
‘And there my Child I nurtur'd thee
‘And lov'd, because thou lov'dst me;
‘And never couldst endure a seat
‘With any, but my self at meat.
‘Nor would a standing-Stool serve thee,
‘But thou must sit upon my knee;
‘And dandled there, I must forsooth
‘Adapt each Morsel to thy Tooth;
‘But yet to tell you, Sir, the truth,
‘After your Guts full well were cram'd,
‘Your Belly-sluce being unramm'd
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‘And to the Plates retire again.
‘Nay, and sometimes taking a nap,
‘You'ld spew a Gallon in my lap.
‘All this I've overgone for you,
‘And many other hardships too.
‘Hoping, because I had no Child,
‘That you (but lo! how I'm beguild)
‘Should be the Heir to my possessions,
‘And take my part on all occasions.
‘Dear 'Chilles therefore cease your ire,
‘The gods themselves (I am no Liar)
‘Though sometimes vext with Mortal men,
‘Are very quickly friends agen.
‘And gods are better (sure) than you,
‘And of more fame and vertue too.
‘Yet men with Vows, Spanish Tobacco
‘Good meat, and other things they lack-o.
‘May all their fury mitigate;
‘Nay, though a man prevaricate.
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‘They'll give it him without delusion;
‘For Pray'rs from Jove derive their race,
‘Lame Jades with Pockholes in their face;
‘With furrow'd Cheeks and purblind Eyes,
‘Yet heal all mischief, whence they rise;
‘Mischief's a lusty strapping Lass,
‘So nimble, she doth Pray'rs surpass
‘In running, skips ye here and there,
‘Still brooding Trouble every where.
‘But if Pray'rs follow, then be sure,
‘What ever wound was made, they cure,
‘And heal the hurt Offenders have
‘With Chamber-lye and Pilgrim-salve;
‘Salt-liquor of their goggle Eyes,
‘And other wondrous remedies.
‘Now they love men of good Conditions,
‘And always grant 'um their Petitions:
‘But when Folks obstinate remain,
‘They to their Grandsire Jove complain;
58
‘That by foul means he may amend 'um.
‘Then Sir John 'Chilles don't deny
‘To honour Pray'rs (Joves Progeny)
‘Who when they do a good man see,
‘Who knows not their deformity,
‘('Cause good men usually are blind)
‘Are ne'r deny'd a favour kind.
‘Had now Atrides sent me store
‘Of Presents, nor had promis'd more;
‘But had he still with wrath been fir'd,
‘I should not then have you desir'd
‘To cool your Passion, nor to help
‘The Greeks for love of such a Whelp.
‘But since that he hath sent you some
‘Gifts, and hath promis'd more to come;
‘Nay, and hath sent the best Lolpoops
‘Selected from the Grecian Troops.
‘Humbly t'implore you, such, I say,
‘With whom, when young, you us'd to play.
59
‘Prove vain; then none shall e're blame you
‘For former Pettishness, but be
‘Glad for this present Courtesie.
‘And now I think on't I can tell
‘Stories of Hero's that befell;
‘When, though in Passion they were witty,
‘And for great Bribes were mov'd to pity.
‘But one, I never shall forget,
‘Which my Old Granny would repeat,
‘When in her turn she told a Tale
‘In Christmas time o're Pot of Ale.
‘And thus the business, Sir, was wrought,
‘The Cowards and the Wittols sought
‘Near Haledon, till on each side
‘All that were slain, in Battel dy'd.
‘The Wittols Caledon defended;
‘Cowards to burn it down intended.
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‘Diana for Old Oeneus's sin
‘(For at the time of Sacrifice
‘He gave to all the Deities;
‘But as for poor Diana, she
‘Could not obtain from him her Fee.
‘Whether he did forget profoundly,
‘Or would not give, he paid for't soundly)
‘For this, I say, being vext at guts,
‘A Boar into his ground she puts;
‘Who rent up Trees, devour'd his fruits,
‘And spoil'd a pair of Oeneus's Boots.
‘Against this Boar stout Meleager
‘Went, with a Pistol and a Dagger;
‘And dogging him about, at last
‘Lockt him in's Father's Stable fast.
‘Then to the door our Warriour comes,
‘'Tempting the Boar with both his Thumbs.
‘Boar, in revenge of such a scoff,
‘Ne'r doubted now to bite 'um off.
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‘But claps in Pistol 'stead of fingers.
‘Off went the pop, but you may guess
‘The Boar ne'r eat so hot a mess;
‘And therefore feeling belly grumble
‘Kickt up his heels, and 'gan to tumble.
‘He knowing dead-Dogs will not grin,
‘With Tuck in hand boldly went in.
‘And then he said he kill'd the Boar,
‘Though, as I shew'd, 'twas done before.
‘He therefore now doth tear his Breeches,
‘And almost cracks his Twatling stitches.
‘Sprinkling himself with blood of Foe,
‘And vap'ring thus, to th' rest doth go,
‘Whom he had left a League behind,
‘(Waiting till he the Beast might find)
‘And shews his Breeches and the gore,
‘All which he swears was done by Boar:
‘But then to shew how well he sped,
‘From under Cloak he pulls the Head;
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‘They now might shake the Boar by th' Ears.
‘In short, the quarrel here was bred
‘About the Boar, and's rotten Head;
‘The Wittols said, the Skin was meant
‘To be the Cowards Tegument.
‘To whom the Cow'rds reply'd again,
‘Twas well for them the Boar was slain;
‘'Cause from his Head they might by stealth
‘Pick Brains, for use of Commonwealth.
‘These words fore-runners were of blows,
‘Whence both these Parishes prov'd foes.
‘Now to the story; While Meleager
‘Did in this battle fight and swagger,
‘The Cowards ever went to rack,
‘And though full many, still gave back.
‘But when Meleager 'gan great scuffles,
‘And needs would stand on his Pantosles,
‘(This mischief all from Choler rose)
‘He gave great 'vantage to his Foes.
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‘He kept within doors with his Wife;
‘Fair Maid, the Daughter of Marepiss,
‘And Gran-daughter, if I don't miss,
‘To Gammer Evans, and old Ide,
‘Who when he was alive defi'd
‘The stoutest Cudgel-play'rs, and coo'd
‘Shoot with a Bow like Robin Hood.
‘Who for a Wench being vext at guts
‘Beat Pheebe 'Pollo at the Butts.
‘This was her Gran-sire; but in fine
‘Her Parents call'd her Magdaline,
‘Because her Mother grievously
‘Did like Madge Howlet weep, and cry
‘To-hoot—to-hoo, when Phœbus swore,
‘And did by force make her an Wh---
‘With her Meleager lay in bed.
‘Being vext at Mother, as was sed;
‘Because she made a deadly pother
‘When he had only slain his Brother.
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‘Yet she was mad for thing so small:
‘And therefore stamping on the ground,
‘A thousand times she call'd him Hound;
‘And on her knees did mildly pray
‘The Devil would take her Son away.
‘Besides, whenever he came in
‘She'd strait her scolding Cue begin;
‘And evermore 'midst Curses fell
‘She'ld fairly wish him sent to Hell.
‘But at this time their Tow'rs were ready
‘To fall, at least they stood not steady;
‘For why the Cowards Brick-bats threw
‘Against the Walls and Flint-stones too.
‘So that they lay at Rack and Manger;
‘But in the midst of all this danger,
‘The Wittols sent their Priests and Sages
‘To promise Meleager wages,
‘Twenty times more than formerly,
‘If he would take the pains to die.
65
‘Since he the Boar so stoutly slew)
‘They promis'd him a pretty piece
‘Of ground, as any was in Greece;
‘Which they affirm'd to be as good
‘As that where Pannyer-Alley stood.
‘On half whereof young Crabs were set,
‘But th' other half bore nothing yet.
‘Besides his Father coming once
‘Had a foul fall upon the Stones,
‘And with his fall the whole house shook,
‘Yet for all this he courage took,
‘And humbly did implore his Son
‘To help; but nothing could be done.
‘Then Brethren beg'd, and that curst Wh**
‘His Mother; but he deny'd the more;
‘Nay ev'ry School-fellow and Friend did,
‘But none his resolution bended.
‘Till he saw his own Windows broke,
‘And th' Town ev'n now in flames to smoke.
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‘Chiefly to him this speech did make;
‘Husband, the time's now come you'll see,
‘Those plaguy things foretold by me,
‘Which unto conquer'd Cities happen,
‘No Gentle-man must put his Cap on.
‘The Meats that in our Cupboards lie
‘Are made a prey to th' Enemy.
‘The Houses are possest by flames;
‘But then the Matrons and the Dames
‘Are made a prey to their Pri—pride;
‘Nay, they abuse the Boys beside.
‘But that which most of all I fear,
‘These Cow'rds like Danes will domineer.
‘He heard no more, but left his place,
‘And all with Soot besmear'd his face.
‘Huge Horns he fasten'd on his head,
‘And made his Cloaths all over red;
‘Then to his Ar---a Tail he ties,
‘But needs not to enlarge his eyes.
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‘Were hugeous ones, and glar'd like Sawcers.)
‘Then on high Stilts (so goes the Fable)
‘He walks, to be more formidable.
‘In Left hand he bore Wild-fire bright,
‘And a huge smoaking T---in's Right.
‘And thus accountred he arose,
‘Though single, daring all his Foes.
‘The Cowards saw this monstrous Evil,
‘And cry'd, Alack! here comes the Devil.
‘And crying so, as who should say
‘Devil take last, run all away;
‘But only one was left behind
‘Whom he with T---had stricken blind.
‘Lo! thus his Passion he laid down
‘And sav'd both Wittols and the Town;
‘Though they ne'r gave his promis'd sum,
‘Because at first he would not come.
‘This Tale's for your instruction pen'd,
‘Oh! therefore do not you intend
68
‘But come while Gifts do you invite.
‘That Greeks with wonted flatteries
‘May raise your Coxcomb to the Skies;
‘But if you fight without your wages,
‘You'll be call'd fool by Sculls and Pages.
Thus spake the Reverend Pædagogue;
But oh! y'ill manner'd well fed Rogue
‘(Achilles answer'd) Fame I scorn,
‘Jove will in time exalt my horn
‘At his own will; which doth detain
‘Me here and shall, while guts remain;
‘(Which I pray Heaven may be long)
‘But now I'll sing another Song;
‘Pray leave your whining and your crying,
‘That Whelp Atrides gratifying.
‘Tis not your duty to take care
‘How such a Puppie's matters are;
‘For if you are so kind to him,
‘I'll tear your Carkass limb from limb.
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‘To love him whom your Master loves, or
‘To hate him whom your Master hates,
‘As th' only cause of these debates?
‘Come, you shall now board with me here,
‘And o're my Servants domineer.
‘But these same Shack-bags shall anon, Sir,
‘Go back t'Atrides with mine Answer.
‘To Night you shall your self confine
‘In a good Feather-bed of mine;
‘And we'll consult at Break of day
‘Whether we'd best to go or stay.
At this he gave a Nod with's head
To th' Jip, to make Phœnix his bead,
And said 'twas Twelve by Dial-Lunar,
Hoping his Guests would go the sooner;
Although it was not much past Eight,
Or at the most not near so late.
When Ajax, Telemon's stout Lad,
Some such Expostulation had:
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‘I ne'r saw such a Clown as this is;
‘If we such Tattle longer hold,
‘Twenty to one our Broth proves cold.
‘Seeing all endeavours are but vain,
‘Pray let us ev'n go back again.
‘If we don't hasten, without doubt
‘This News will in Gazets come out.
‘'Tis therefore best, that first we carry
‘The News, though bad (and never tarry)
‘Unto our Friends and dear Acquaintance,
‘Who sit like Men (but very faint ones)
‘Expecting all till we come home.
‘Mean while Achilles, that Coxcomb,
‘Swelling with anger and vexations,
‘Forgets his Friends and near Relations.
‘Hard-hearted thing! Some I have known,
‘For death of Brother, or of Son,
‘Having 'gainst Murd'rer entred Action,
‘Did at the last take satisfaction;
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‘Having redeem'd his neck with Gold;
‘But th' others Anger was abated,
‘And wrath with bribes was mitigated.
‘But you for one unlucky Jade,
‘Have a most horrid pudder made;
‘And on no terms will yield t'agree,
‘Though we'll give seven better than she;
‘And other things besides of value.
‘But now, dear Cuz, no longer dally,
‘Give us respect as persons sent
‘By all the Grecians to your Tent;
‘And who would fain be thought the most
‘Friendly to you of all the Host.
‘Achilles then with Cap in hand Sir,
‘Fleering at Ajax, gave this Answer;
‘Kind old Acquaintance, Man of might,
‘Methinks what you have spoke is right;
‘But oh! I am fill'd with many Troubles,
‘And all my Passion boils and bubbles.
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‘When I but think on that disgrace
‘Atrides laid upon me that time,
‘As if I could not easily fat-him!
‘But for your parts you may go home
‘And say, I n'er intend to come
‘In Martial guise, for Greece to fight,
‘Till Hector, that same swagg'ring Knight,
‘Beats up my Souldiers quarters, and
‘Knocks down his Foes, that they can't stand,
‘And makes their Lighters light with fire;
‘But though he comes so nigh or nigher,
‘As soon as e'r my force he feels,
‘I'll warrant you, he'll shew his heels.
This said, they all to part rose up,
But first took farewel of the Cup;
And, having done, for malice they
(When all was out) flung the'rest away.
Though it was Spic'd and Sugard too;
Then having now no more to do,
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But 'Lysses he went first of all.
Patroclus, when these Guests were gone,
Bad Maids make Phœnix's Bed anon.
They strait obey'd, and laid on clean
Sheets, Pillow, Rug, and Blanquet green.
And there our Gaffer snoring lay
From Nine a Clock until broad-day:
But stout Achilles on a Bench
Lay all Night tumbling with his Wench,
Phorbas his Daughter, Moll the pretty,
Which he had stole from Lesbos City.
And vile Patroclus too (for both
Were Birds of feather I'll take Oath)
With Susan lay in Truckle-bed,
And there on pleasures Oysters fed;
Her formerly Achilles (knowing
His Friend like him would fain be doing)
Did freely give, having subdu'd
The potent Town of Barnwell rude.
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Were come into Atrides Buttery;
The Greeks, whose Manners did not fail,
Gave them a plate or two of Ale;
And catching each by Bawdy-fist,
Cry'd, Sirs, you're welcome, pray how is't?
But first the King himself thus spake,
‘Ulysses, (but a Seat first take)
‘Tell's truly, does Achilles prove
‘Civil, and entertain my love?
‘Or does he still damn, curse and roar,
‘And vent his Passion as before?
To whom Ulysses thus reply'd,
‘Atrides fam'd both far and wide,
‘This fellow is a desp'rate Creature,
‘And rather now his Passion's greater
‘He scorns you and your gifts, he says,
‘And bids you try all lawful ways
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‘And he, he swears to morrow Morning,
‘As soon as Sluggards use to peep
‘Will launch his Boats into the deep;
‘And then began us to advise,
‘And others too, to be as wise,
‘As he imagines his Coxcomb:
‘In short, he would advise us home.
‘For we (he swore thorough and thorough)
‘Should never take this Trojan Borough:
‘For Jove of Trojan Squadrons is Chief,
‘And stirs 'um daily up to mischief.
‘Thus much he swore, I'll take my Oath;
‘But if you'll not believe my troth,
‘Here are as honest men, as live,
‘Can better Information give,
‘Ajax, and both the loud-lung'd Cryers;
‘But Gaffer Phœnix (we're no Liars)
‘Being fudled we've left there a Bed
‘Spuing, and very light of head;
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‘But 'Chilles swears, he'll not compel.
Thus spake the subtle Knave Ulysses,
But all the rest stood mute as Fishes;
Not knowing what to say that stound,
For he was plaguy cross they sound.
But strait the bawling-whelp Tydides
Thus boldly spoke to Goodman Trides.
‘O Agamemnon, Lord o'th' Host!
‘I wish'd, that I had rul'd the rost;
‘Then you should ne'r t'Achilles sent
‘These Fools, with such a Complement;
‘For now the Villain sees we lack him,
‘The thoughts whereof will prouder make him;
‘And if he vapour'd so before,
‘Now he will vapour ten times more.
‘But let him hang, or drown or rot
‘All's one to me, Faith I care not.
‘'Twill mad him much, to see us scoff him,
‘There ore let's take no notice of him;
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‘Our hungry Maws to satiate,
‘And dust it hard (without this do)
‘Drink makes men wise and valiant too.
‘But when the Blew-nos'd morn appears
‘We'll fall about the Trojans ears;
‘Setting our Horsemen and Redcoats
‘In the fore-front to guard the Boats;
‘And th' rest shall follow, having got
‘Both Powder, Match and Musquet-shot:
‘And pray no more most Martial wight,
‘Do you your self go last to fight.
At this they all clapt Paws and shouted,
‘Wondring at saying so redoubted;
‘And when they'd all well fudled Nose,
‘With sleep they did their Sawcers close;
‘But Chiefs were hard at Venus's game,
‘While Commons only dream'd the same.
FINIS.
| Homer Alamode, The Second Part, In English Burlesque | |