Distress upon Distress : or, Tragedy in True Taste A Heroi-Comi-Parodi-Tragedi-Farcical Burlesque |
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 | Distress upon Distress : or, Tragedy in True Taste |  |
Phlebotome.
The Morning rises black, as black as Ink;
Perhaps Apollo has a dirty Shirt on:
It looks as if 'twou'd Rain, or Hail, or Snow;
It looks, methinks, it looks I don't know how;
Hah! Who comes here? Are you, or are you not .
Scarebabe.
I am Sir.
Phlebotome.
What?
Scarebabe.
Your humble Servant.
Phlebotome.
Either my Optics err, the visual Ray
Refracted, densely beams obliquely forth ,
Or thou art Scarebabe.
Scarebabe.
Sir; the same.
A Letter, Sir, from Squire Fanfly's Mother.
Will seize her Son, and put him into Bedlam,
'Till by your Discipline he's gain'd his Senses.
Phlebotome.
She writes me here, bad English, but no Matter,
I'll seize the Squire, and give him Castigation.
Conclude it done—have you more Bus'ness with me.
Enter Caustic with a black Eye.
Caustic.
Seek not for Business; shun the rash Pursuit;
Behold, by Business, what to me's befallen.
Had I been born but rich I had been bless'd.
Safe then each Day in indolentic Ease;
Supine, my Life insipidly had slid.
Thro' the throng'd Park, I'd lazy lownge along,
Arm linked in Arm with my laced Coat compeers,
And dawdling dangle with affected Limp.
Or big with pleasing Contemplation stand
'Gainst the Pier-Glass, and look whole Hours away :
Then nightly trifle round Theatric Scenes,
Or o'er the exhilerating Coffee join,
In Speculations for the Nation's Good;
Or with harmonious Taste, or clenched Fist,
Direct Jack Broughton's, or the Opera rule.
Phlebotome.
Permit me, Friend, by mild Request, to probe
Thy febrile Mind: I view thy Eye contus'd;
Fist-swol'n, perhaps; exhibit thou the Cause.
Caustic.
If I forgive it; but it is no Matter;
Few Words are best; so I'll relate it briefly.
With tuneful Sound, enquiring, as I past,
Who wanted Ease from the toe-troubling Corn,
Two twisted Papers dangled (pendant thus
The String tied Cherry vibrates: Infant play)
In Squire Fanfly's Name, with courteous Air,
Requested my Attendance; hapless Jobb.
Within th'unrefreshing Hall, high hung
With steely Trophies , and the Huntsman's Spoil:
Chilly I wait; at length my Patient's brought,
On Couch reclin'd, his Legs in Flannel wrapp'd :
With tender Care, as I one Foot uncloath'd,
Full in my Breast the other he discharg'd;
Prone on the Ground I fell. As I uprose;
Thro' the resistless Air, with agile Whirl
His Slipper, wooden-heel'd, he threw direct,
Luckless my Eye received it, flashing Fire.
These Symptoms indicate the Youth is mad.
As creaking Signs, or the thick throbbing Corn,
Or Sink offensive, bode impending Showers;
So the prognosticating Symptoms shew,
The State morbific. Diagnostics are
Signals which Nature holds out in Distress:
Then the Physician, as a Pilot, acts
To steer the Body from the Rocks of Death,
And tide it safely to the Bay of Health.
Scarebabe.
A Set of Sharpers now attend the Squire,
And Leech-like live upon him: 'Tis To-day
He's come to Age, & open House he keeps
At Beverage the Vintner's.
Caustic.
So, he may.
No more of that for me, I spunge no more.—
Who'd be that sordid sycophantic Wretch,
To cringe, be kick'd, or flatter for a Dinner,
And turn led Captain. No, if e'er I do,
May I be bruised in every aching Limb,
In the strong Blanket toss'd 'twixt Earth and Air,
So poor Jack Needy suffer'd . Luckless Youth.
Scarebabe.
I saw him toss'd.
A Sight, so dirty-sad, my Eyes did ne'er behold.
Phlebotome.
So dirty, peace;
It is unutterable; yet I'll tell it .
In that wet Season, when descending Rains
Stream thro' the Streets, and swell along the Lanes.
When Mud obnoxious o'er the Pavement spread,
Soils the white Stocking at each mirey Tread.
When the shrill Link-boy plies the Playhouse Door,
And Mack'rel pleasing Cry, is heard no more.
When Strength-restoring Oysters are in prime;
Or, in plain English, it was Winter-Time;
Then was Peel Garlick toss'd.
Caustic.
How did he bear it?
At the first Toss he puked, then loudly swore,
But when the Blanket burst, he said no more;
But dropt down swift into the common Shore.
O'erwhelm'd with Filth, he wallow'd in the Mud,
And groap'd his Way out, flound'ring thro' the Flood.
Caustic.
Why must the Great have Privilege to kick,
And not the Poor return it? Partial Fate!
Domitian thus the Spider's Prey purloined ,
And tilted Flies for Pastime. Cruel Sport!
Ye Gods, why gave ye me a Monarch's Soul,
And wrapp'd it up in such a wretched Case!
Phlebotome.
But see, who's this approaches? With what State
She seems to tread, and side-long how she holds
Her Hoop wide op'ning, O Circean Cave .
Know ye the Dame?
Yes, 'tis Capriola.
A Mistress Fanfly keeps, let us go seek the Squire.
Caustic.
I know where to find him.
Phlebotome.
Go you before, and I will follow after .
Methinks I walk in Stilts, I'm so elated,
To have a wealthy Patient: o'the Rapture!
As Gallen has it in his second Chapter.
Nephretics and Emetics we must try,
And drain for Drugs the Dispensary dry.
The Attorney thus to lengthen out his Suit,
Forbids Peace-making, and foments Dispute;
Incessant watches o'er his Client's Purse,
Makes good Things bad, and bad he makes much worse.
So Squire Fanfly, if I can allure him,
I'll make him mad, and afterwards I'll cure him.
By this Speech we learn that Phlebotome was one of those Philosophers called Scepties. They were remarkable for doubting if they could see, or doubting the Existence of whatever they did see; like some Moderns who cannot, will not, or must nor believe their Eyes, nor too critically attend to the Evidence and Examination of any of their other Senses. H. H.
Obliquely forth—That is, the Rays of Light don't come in a direct Line but oblique. For Rays are made to converge when they are refracted towards each other by their being drawn from the Center of Convexity on the other Side, as by this Proposition will more plainly appear.
AB is to CD as the Lines of Refraction by Convexion, i. e. as q is to p, or p to q; and as AB to EF so (CD= p/q or q/p A B to p/q or q/p NO; and, so is K: L to M: N; and, so is WX to YZ. Ergo, AB pq/qp is as the Side of Refraction to the Angle of Incidence C: D: : E.
H. H.The Messenger telling the Purport of the Letter is very natural, for he might have looked over as she wrote, or read it before she sent it.
The Meaning of this is an Allusion to Narcissus looking at himself, till, according to the Author of Henry VII. or the Popish Impostor, be vanished into nothing. H. H.
John Broughton, formerly a Waterman, but for some Years last past remarkable for his Skill in the Science of Offence, called Boxing; and for the teaching of which he established an Athletical Academy to instruct the polite Youth of London in the Exercise of the Fist, and all the Dexterity of Cross-Buttocks. But as there are some too delicate to be taught with the naked Hand, he has Gloves lin'd with Hair, and quilted Breast-Plates, for the very fine Gentlemen to practise in.
Non his Juventus orta parentibus, &c. Hor. Lib. iii. Od. 6.
There are also several more heroical Bruisers, who fight pitch'd. Combats on his Stage, and to see which Half-Guineas, and Crowns, are given for Tickets.
P. P.Steelly Trophies.—Read it stilly Trophies; Weapons that were silent and unus'd. Richard III. The Hum of either Army stilly sounds. P. P.
Wrapp'd—Read it lapp'd; the Word wrapp'd is an Interpolation: To be wrapp'd is to be bound tight, which was not proper in the Gout, as we suppose to be the Case with the Squire. P. P.
Prone.—He could not fall prone; for when a Man has a Blow on the Breast he falls backwrd. Vide Slack upon Broughton. I therefore read, Thrown on the Ground, I fell.
As I uprose—Erroneous. It should be, as I suppose; for we may suppose he was senseless by the Blow.
P. P.So poor John Needy suffered—it must be read: For, if you read it Jack Needy, the Sound of Jaculation in the preceding Line, and the Sound of Jack in the succeeding one, breaks all Hexameter Harmony. H. H.
Domitian, the Roman Emperor, used to amuse himself with killing Flies, till he had destroyed the Maggot-bred Progeny, upon which it was wittily said, by a Philosopher, (who was asked if the Emperor had any one with him) no, not so much as a Fly.
This is an odd Epithet, and I am convinced the Author never designed it so; but by the Blunder of some ignorant Transcriber, it has crept into the Text. In the first Place, Circe never wore a Hoop. Secondly, she lived not in a Cave. Thirdly, but enough has been said to prove what it is not; let us consider what it is. This Doctor is a learned Man; hē there speaks Latin, Cave beware; and the other Word is either calling her by her Name, which was Cecilia; as for Instance, Oh Cicely, beware, don't stumble; for she might hold her Hoop so high, that she could not look before her: Or else it is, Oh Silesian Cave; her Hoop might he made of that Sort of Stuff. P. P.
This is very natural; for if one goes before, the other must follow after, unless, as it sometimes happens, on the Stage, for one to pull the other back, and so go out first, according to the old Proverb, he is first at last, though he was behind before. P. P.
Mr. Pedasculus has a Mind to be merry with his Proverb, and wrest the Author's Meaning to an Explanation never intended. To pull one back, and step in his Place, or get before him, in an Action common to all Men, as well off, as on the Stage, and may be properly called, the Art of Supplanting. H. H.
| Distress upon Distress : or, Tragedy in True Taste | |