POEMS AND Translations By the AUTHOR of The Satyrs upon the Iesuits LONDON Printed for Ios. Hindmarsh Bookseller to his Royal Highness at the Black Bull in Cornhil 1683. Advertisement THE Author of the following Pieces must be excused for their being hudled out so confusedly They are Printed just as he finished them off and some things there are which he design'd not ever to expose but was fain to do it to keep the Press at work when it was once set a going If it be their Fate to perish and go the way of all mortal Rhimes 't is no great matter in what method they have been plac'd no more than whether Ode Elegy or Satyr have the honor of Wiping first But if they and what he has formerly made Publick be so happy as to live and come forth in an Edition all together perhaps he may then think them worth the sorting in better Order By that time belike he means to have ready a very Sparkish Dedication if he can but get himself known to some Great Man that will give a good parcel of Guinnies for being handsomly flatter'd Then likewise the Reader for his farther comfort may expect to see him appear with all the Pomp and Trappings of an Author his Head in the Front very finely cut together with the Year of his Age Commendatory Verses in abundance and all the Hands of the Poets of Quorum to confirm his Book and pass it for Authentick This at present is content to come abroad naked Undedicated and Unprefac'd without one kind Word to shelter it from Censure and so let the Criticks take it amongst them THE TABLE MOnsieur Boileau's Satyr upon Man imitated Page 1 Juvenal's thirteenth Satyr imitated 25 David's Lamentation for the Death of Saul and Jonathan paraphras'd Ode 49 The Ode of Aristotle in Athenaeus paraphras'd 66 Vpon the Works of Ben. Johnson Ode 69 The ninth Ode of the third Book of Horace imitated 87 Vpon a Lady who by overturning of a Coach had her Coats behind flung up and what was under shewn to the view of the Company 90 Catullus Epigram 7. imitated 97 The fourth Elegy of the second Book of Ovid's Amours imitated 99 The fifth Elegy of the same Book imitated 104 The tenth Elegy of the same Book imitated 110 A Fragment of Petronius paraphras'd 114 An Ode of Anacreon paraphras'd 116 An Allusion to Martial Book 1. Epigr. 118. 120 The Dream An Elegy 122 A Satyr touching Nobility Out of French 127 A Satyr address'd to a Friend that is about to leave the Vniversity and come abroad in the world 137 Presenting a Book to Cosmelia Elegy 149 The Parting Elegy 153 Complaining of Absence Elegy 156 Promising a Visit. Elegy 158 The careless Good Fellow Song 160 A Satyr concerning Poetry 164 The third Satyr of Juvenal imitated 180 A Dithyrambick The Drunkards Speech in a Mask 206 THE EIGHTH SATYR OF Monsieur BOILEAV Imitated Written in October 1682. The POET brings himself in as discoursing with a Doctor of the Vniversity upon the Subject ensuing OF all the Creatures in the world that be Beast Fish or Fowl that go or swim or fly Throughout the Globe from London to Iapan The arrant'st Fool in my opinion's Man What strait I 'm taken up an Ant a Fly A tiny Mite which we can hardly see Without a Perspective a silly Ass Or freakish Ape Dare you affirm that these Have greater sense than Man Ay questionless Doctor I find you 're shock'd at this discourse Man is you cry Lord of the Vniverse For him was this fair frame of Nature made And all the Creatures for his use and aid To him alone of all the living kind Has bounteous Heav'n the reas'ning gift assign'd True Sir that Reason ever was his lot But thence I argue Man the greater Sot This idle talk you say and rambling stuff May pass in Satyr and take well enough With Sceptick Fools who are dispos'd to jeer At serious things but you must make 't appear By solid proof Believe me Sir I 'll do 't Take you the Desk and let 's dispute it out Then by your favour tell me first of all What 't is which you grave Doctors Wisdom call You answer 'T is an evenness of Soul A steddy temper which no cares controul No passions ruffle nor desires inflame Still constant to its self and still the same That does in all its slow Resolves advance With graver steps than Benchers when they dance Most true yet is not this I dare maintain Less us'd by any than the Fool call'd Man The wiser Emmet quoted just before In Summer time ranges the Fallows o're With pains and labour to lay in his store But when the blust'ring North with ruffling blasts Saddens the year and Nature overcasts The prudent Insect hid in privacy Enjoys the fruits of his past industry No Ant of sense was e're so awkard seen To drudg in Winter loiter in the Spring But sillier Man in his mistaken way By Reason his false guide is led astray Tost by a thousand gusts of wavering doubt His restless mind still rolls from thought to thought In each resolve unsteddy and unfixt And what he one day loaths desires the next Shall I so fam'd for many a tuant jest On wiving now go take a jilt at last Shall I turn Husband and my station choose Amongst the reverend Martyrs of the Noose No there are fools enough besides in Town To furnish work for Satyr and Lampoon Few months before cried the unthinking Sot Who quickly after hamper'd in the knot Was quoted for an instance by the rest And bore his Fate as tamely as the best And thought that Heav'n from some miraculous side For him alone had drawn a faithful Bride This is our image just such is that vain That foolish fickle motly Creature Man More changing than a Weathercock his Head Ne'er wakes with the same thoughts he went to bed Irksome to all beside and ill at ease He neither others nor himself can please Each minute round his whirling humors run Now he 's a Trooper and a Priest anon To day in Buff to morrow in a Gown Yet pleas'd with idle whimsies of his brain And puft with pride this haughty thing would fain Be thought himself the only stay and prop That holds the mighty frame of Nature up The Skies and Stars his properties must seem And turn-spit Angels tread the spheres for him Of all the Creatures he 's the Lord he cries More absolute than the French King of his And who is there say you that dares deny So own'd a truth That may be Sir do I. But to omit the controversie here Whether if met the Passenger and Bear This or the other stands in greater fear Or if an Act of Parliament should pass That all the Irish Wolves should quit the place They 'd strait obey the Statutes high command And at a minutes warning rid the Land This boasted Monarch of the world that aws The Creatures
am I curs'd with Life why am I fain For thee false Jilt to bear eternal Pain 'T is not thy Letters which thy Crimes reveal Nor secret Presents which thy Falshood tell Would God! my just suspicions wanted cause That they might prove less fatal to my ease Would God! less colour for thy guilt there were But that alas too much of proof does bear Bless'd he who what he loves can justifie To whom his Mistriss can the Fact deny And boldly give his Jealousie the lye Cruel the Man and uncompassionate And too indulgent to his own Regret Who seeks to have her guilt too manifest And with the murd'ring secret stabs his Rest. I saw when little you suspected me When sleep you thought gave opportunity Your Crimes I saw and these unhappy eyes Of all your hidden stealths were Witnesses I saw in signs your mutual Wishes read And Nods the message of your Hearts convey'd I saw the conscious Board which writ all o're With scrawls of Wine Love's mystick Cypher bore Your Glances were not mute but each bewray'd And with your Fingers Dialogues were made I understood the Language out of hand For what 's too hard for Love to understand Full well I understood for what intent All this dumb Talk and silent Hints were meant And now the Ghests were from the Table fled And all the Company retir'd to bed I saw you then with wanton Kisses greet Your Tongues I saw did in your Kisses meet Not such as Sisters to their Brothers give But Lovers from their Mistrisses receive Such as the God of War and Paphian Queen Did in the height of their Embraces joyn Patience ye Gods cried I what is 't I see Vnfaithful why this Treachery to me How dare you let another in my sight Invade my native Property and Right He must not shall not do 't by Love I swear I 'll seize the bold usurping Ravisher You are my Free-hold and the Fates design That you should be unalienably mine These Favours all to me impropriate are How comes another then to trespass here This and much more I said by Rage inspir'd While conscious shame her Cheeks with Blushes fir'd Such lovely stains the face of Heav'n adorn When Light 's first blushes paint the bashful Morn So on the Bush the flaming Rose does glow When mingled with the Lillies neighb'ring Snow This or some other Colour much like these The semblance then of her Complexion was And while her Looks that sweet Disorder wore Chance added Beauties undisclos'd before Upon the ground she cast her jetty Eyes Her Eyes shot fiercer Darts in that Disguise Her Face a sad and mournful Air express'd Her Face more lovely seem'd in sadness dress'd Urg'd by Revenge I hardly could forbear Her braided Locks and tender Cheeks to tear Yet I no sooner had her Face survey'd But strait the tempest of my Rage was laid A look of her did my Resentments charm A look of her did all their Force disarm And I that fierce outrageous thing e're-while Grow calm as Infants when in sleep they smile And now a Kiss am humbly fain to crave And beg no worse than she my Rival gave She smil'd and strait a throng of Kisses prest The worst of which should Iove himself but taste The brandish'd Thunder from his Hand would wrest Well-pleas'd I was and yet tormented too For fear my envied Rival felt them so Better they seem'd by far than I e're taught And she in them shew'd something new methought Fond jealous I my self the Pleasure grutch And they displeas'd because they pleas'd too much When in my mouth I felt her darting Tongue My wounded Thoughts it with suspicion stung Nor is it this alone afflicts my mind More reason for complaint remains behind I grieve not only that she Kisses gave Tho that affords me cause enough to grieve Such never could be taught her but in Bed And Heav'n knows what Reward her Teacher had BOOK II. ELEGY X. To a Friend Acquainting him that he is in Love with two at one time Tu mihi tu certè memini Graecine negabas c. I 'VE heard my Friend and heard it said by you No Man at once could ever well love two But I was much deceiv'd upon that score For single I at once love one and more Two at one time reign joyntly in my Breast Both handsom are both charming both well-dress'd And hang me if I know which takes me best This Fairer is than that and that than this That more than this and this than that does please Tost like a Ship by diff'rent gusts of Love Now to this point and now to that I move Why Love why do'st thou double thus my pains Was 't not enough to bear one Tyrant's chains Why Goddess do'st thou vainly lavish more On one that was top-full of Love before Yet thus I 'd rather love than not at all May that ill Curse my Enemies befal May my worst Foe be damn'd to love of none Be damn'd to Continence and lie alone Let Loves alarms each night disturb my Rest And drowsie sleep never approach my Breast Or strait-way thence be by new Pleasure chas'd Let Pleasures in succession keep my Sense Ever awake or ever in a Trance Let me lie melting in my fair One's Arms Riot in Bliss and surfeit on her Charms Let her undo me there without controul Drain nature quite suck out my very Soul And if by one I can't enough be drawn Give me another clap more Leeches on The Gods have made me of the sporting kind And for the Feat my Pliant Limbs design'd What Nature has in Bulk to me denied In Sinews and in vigor is supplied And should my Strength be wanting to Desire Pleasure would add new Fewel to the Fire Oft in soft Battles have I spent the Night Yet rose next Morning vig'rous for the Fight Fresh as the Day and active as the Light No Maid that ever under me took pay From my Embrace went unoblig'd away Bless'd he who in Loves service yields his Breath Grant me ye Gods so sweet so wish'd a Death In bloody Fields let Souldiers meet their Fate To purchase dear-bought Honor at the rate Let greedy Merchants trust the faithless Main And shipwrack Life and Soul for sordid gain Dying let me expire in gasps of Lust And in a gush of Joy give up the ghost And some kind pitying Friend shall say of me So did he live and so deserv'd to die A FRAGMENT of PETRONIUS PARAPHRAS'D Foeda est in coitu brevis voluptas c. I Hate Fruition now 't is past 'T is all but nastiness at best The homeliest thing that man can do Besides 't is short and fleeting too A squirt of slippery Delight That with a moment takes its flight A fulsom Bliss that soon does cloy And makes us loath what we enjoy Then let us not too eager run By Passion blindly hurried on Like Beasts who nothing better know Than what meer Lust incites them to For
when in Floods of Love we 're drench'd The Flames are by enjoyment quench'd But thus let 's thus together lie And kiss out long Eternity Here we dread no conscious spies No blushes stain our guiltless Joys Here no Faintness dulls Desires And Pleasure never flags nor tires This has pleas'd and pleases now And for Ages will do so Enjoyment here is never done But fresh and always but begun AN ODE OF ANACREON PARAPHRAS'D The CUP 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. MAke me a Bowl a mighty Bowl Large as my capacious Soul Vast as my thirst is let it have Depth enough to be my Grave I mean the Grave of all my Care For I intend to bury't there Let it of Silver fashion'd be Worthy of Wine worthy of me Worthy to adorn the Spheres As that bright Cup amongst the Stars That Cup which Heaven deign'd a place Next the Sun its greatest Grace Kind Cup that to the Stars did go To light poor Drunkards here below Let mine be so and give me light That I may drink and revel by 't Yet draw no shapes of Armour there No Cask nor Shield nor Sword nor Spear Nor Wars of Thebes nor Wars of Troy Nor any other martial Toy For what do I vain Armour prize Who mind not such rough Exercise But gentler Sieges softer Wars Fights that cause no Wounds or Scars I 'll have no Battles on my Plate Lest sight of them should Brawls create Lest that provoke to Quarrels too Which Wine it self enough can do Draw me no Constellations there No Ram nor Bull nor Dog nor Bear Nor any of that monstrous fry Of Animals which stock the sky For what are Stars to my Design Stars which I when drunk out-shine Out-shone by every drop of Wine I lack no Pole Star on the Brink To guide in the wide Sea of Drink But would for ever there be tost And wish no Haven seek no Coast. Yet gentle Artist if thou 'lt try Thy Skill then draw me let me see Draw me first a spreading Vine Make its Arms the Bowl entwine With kind embraces such as I Twist about my loving she Let its Boughs o're-spread above Scenes of Drinking Scenes of Love Draw next the Patron of that Tree Draw Bacchus and soft Cupid by Draw them both in toping Shapes Their Temples crown'd with cluster'd Grapes Make them lean against the Cup As 't were to keep their Figures up And when their reeling Forms I view I 'll think them drunk and be so too The Gods shall my examples be The Gods thus drunk in Effigy An Allusion to MARTIAL BOOK I. EPIG 118. AS oft Sir Tradewel as we meet You 're sure to ask me in the street When you shall send your Boy to me To fetch my Book of Poetry And promise you 'l but read it o're And faithfully the Loan restore But let me tell ye as a Friend You need not take the pains to send 'T is a long way to where I dwell At farther end of Clarkenwel There in a Garret near the Sky Above five pair of Stairs I lie But if you 'd have what you pretend You may procure it nearer hand In Cornhil where you often go Hard by th' Exchange there is you know A Shop of Rhime where you may see The Posts all clad in Poetry There H lives of high renown The noted'st TORY in the Town Where if you please enquire for me And he or 's Prentice presently From the next Shelf will reach you down The Piece well bound for half a Crown The Price is much too dear you cry To give for both the Book and me Yes doubtless for such vanities We know Sir you are too too wise THE DREAM Written March 10. 1677. LAte as I on my Bed reposing lay And in soft sleep forgot the Toils of Day My self my Cares and Love all charm'd to Rest And all the Tumults of my waking Breast Quiet and calm as was the silent Night Whose stillness did to that bless'd sleep invite I dreamt and strait this visionary Scene Did with Delight my Fancy entertain I saw methought a lonely Privacy Remote alike from man's and Heavens Eye Girt with the covert of a shady Grove Dark as my thoughts and secret as my Love Hard by a Stream did with that softness creep As 't were by its own murmurs husht asleep On its green Bank under a spreading Tree At once a pleasant and a shelt'ring Canopy There I and there my dear Cosmelia sate Nor envied Monarchs in our safe Retreat So heretofore were the first Lovers laid On the same Turf of which themselves were made A while I did her charming Glories view Which to their former Conquests added new A while my wanton hand was pleas'd to rove Thro all the hidden Labyrinths of Love Ten thousand Kisses on her Lips I fix'd Which she with interfering Kisses mix'd Eager as those of Lovers are in Death When they give up their Souls too with the Breath Love by these Freedoms first became more bold At length unruly and too fierce to hold See then said I and pity charming Fair Yield quickly yield I can no longer bear Th' impatient Sallies of a Bliss so near You must and you alone these storms appease And lay those Spirits which your Charms could raise Come and in equal Flouds let 's quench our Flame Come let 's and unawares I went to name The Thing but stopt and blusht methought in Dream At first she did the rude Address disown And check'd my Boldness with an angry Frown But yielding Glances and consenting Eyes Prov'd the soft Traitors to her forc'd Disguise And soon her looks with anger rough e're while Sunk in the dimples of a calmer smile Then with a sigh into these words she broke And printed melting Kisses as she spoke Too strong Philander is thy pow'rful Art To take a feeble Maids ill-guarded Heart Too long I 've struggled with my Bliss in vain Too long oppos'd what I oft wish'd to gain Loath to consent yet loather to deny At once I court and shun Felicity I cannot will not yield and yet I must Lest to my own Desires I prove unjust Sweet Ravisher what Love commands thee do Tho I 'm displeas'd I shall forgive thee too Too well thou know'st and there my hand she press'd And said no more but blush'd and smil'd the rest Ravish'd at the new grant fierce eager I Leap'd furious on and seiz'd my trembling Prey With guarding Arms she first my Force repell'd Shrunk and drew back and would not seem to yield Unwilling to o'recome she faintly strove One hand pull'd to what t'other did remove So feeble are the struglings and so weak In sleep we seem and only sleep to make Forbear she said ah gentle Youth forbear And still she hug'd and clasp'd me still more near Ah! will you will you force my Ruin so Ah! do not do not do not let me go What follow'd was above the pow'r of Verse Above the reach of Fancy to
Honor to support it self is brought To its last shifts and thence the Art has got Of borrowing every where and paying nought 'T is now thought mean and much beneath a Lord To be an honest man and keep his Word Who by his Peerage and Protection safe Can plead the Privilege to be a Knave While daily Crowds of starving Creditors Are forc'd to dance attendance at his doors Till he at length with all his mortgag'd Lands Are forfeited into the Banker's hands Then to redress his wants the bankrupt Peer To some rich trading Sot turns Pensioner And the next News you 're sure to hear that he Is nobly wed into the Company Where for a Portion of ill gotten Gold Himself and all his Ancestors are sold And thus repairs his broken Family At the expence of his own Infamy For if you want Estate to set it forth In vain you boast the splendor of your Birth Your priz'd Gentility for madness goes And each your Kindred shuns and disavows But he that 's rich is prais'd at his full rate And tho he once cry'd Small-coal in the street Tho he nor none of his e're mention'd were But in the parish-Parish-Book or Register D lé by help of Chronicle shall trace An hundred Barons of his ancient Race A SATYR Address'd to a Friend that is about to leave the Vniversity and come abroad in the World IF you 're so out of love with Happiness To quit a College-life and learned ease Convince me first and some good Reasons give What methods and designs you 'l take to live For such Resolves are needful in the Case Before you tread the worlds mysterious Maze Without the Premisses in vain you 'l try To live by Systems of Philosophy Your Aristotle Cartes and Le-Grand And Euclid too in little stead will stand How many men of choice and noted parts Well fraught with Learning Languages and Arts Designing high Preferment in their mind And little doubting good success to find With vast and tow'ring thoughts have flock'd to Town But to their cost soon found themselves undone Now to repent and starve at leisure left Of miseries last Comfort Hope bereft These fail'd for want of good Advice you cry Because at first they fix'd on no employ Well then let 's draw the Prospect and the Scene To all advantage possibly we can The world lies now before you let me hear What course your Judgment counsels you to steer Always consider'd that your whole Estate And all your Fortune lies beneath your Hat Were you the Son of some rich Usurer That starv'd and damn'd himself to make his Heir Left nought to do but to interr the Sot And spend with ease what he with pains had got 'T were easie to advise how you might live Nor would there need instruction then to give But you that boast of no Inheritance Save that small stock which lies within your Brains Learning must be your Trade and therefore weigh With heed how you your Game the best may play Bethink your self a while and then propose What way of Life is fitt'st for you to choose If you for Orders and a Gown design Consider only this dear Friend of mine The Church is grown so overstock'd of late That if you walk abroad you 'l hardly meet More Porters now than Parsons in the street At every Corner they are forc'd to ply For Jobs of hawkering Divinity And half the number of the Sacred Herd Are fain to strowl and wander unpreferr'd If this or thoughts of such a weighty Charge Make you resolve to keep your self at large For want of better opportunity A School must your next Sanctuary be Go wed some Grammar-Bridewel and a Wife And there beat Greek and Latin for your life With birchen Scepter there command at will Greater than Busby's self or Doctor Gill But who would be to the vile Drudg'ry bound Where there so small encouragement is found Where you for recompence of all your pains Shall hardly reach a common Fidler's gains For when you 've toil'd and labour'd all you can To dung and cultivate a barren Brain A Dancing-Master shall be better paid Tho he instructs the Heels and you the Head To such Indulgence are kind Parents grown That nought costs less in Breeding than a Son Nor is it hard to find a Father now Shall more upon a Setting-dog allow And with a freer hand reward the Care Of training up his Spaniel than his Heir Some think themselves exalted to the Sky If they light in some noble Family Diet an Horse and thirty pounds a year Besides th' advantage of his Lordships ear The credit of the business and the State Are things that in a Youngster's Sense sound great Little the unexperienc'd Wretch does know What slavery he oft must undergo Who tho in silken Skarf and Cassock drest Wears but a gayer Livery at best When Dinner calls the Implement must wait With holy Words to consecrate the Meat But hold it for a Favour seldom known If he be deign'd the Honor to sit down Soon as the Tarts appear Sir Crape withdraw Those Dainties are not for a spiritual Maw Observe your distance and be sure to stand Hard by the Cistern with your Cap in hand There for diversion you may pick your Teeth Till the kind Voider comes for your Relief For meer Board-wages such their Freedom sell Slaves to an Hour and Vassals to a Bell And if th' enjoyment of one day be stole They are but Pris'ners out upon Parole Always the marks of slavery remain And they tho loose still drag about their Chain And where 's the mighty Prospect after all A Chaplainship serv'd up and seven years Thrall The menial thing perhaps for a Reward Is to some slender Benefice preferr'd With this Proviso bound that he must wed My Ladies antiquated Waiting-maid In Dressing only skill'd and Marmalade Let others who such meannesses can brook Strike Countenance to every Great man's Look Let those that have a mind turn slaves to eat And live contented by another's Plate I rate my Freedom higher nor will I For Food and Rayment truck my Liberty But if I must to my last shifts be put To fill a Bladder and twelve yards of Gut Rather with counterfeited wooden Leg And my right Arm tied up I 'll chuse to beg I 'll rather chuse to starve at large than be The gawdiest Vassal to Dependency 'T has ever been the top of my Desires The utmost height to which my wish aspires That Heav'n would bless me with a small Estate Where I might find a close obscure retreat There free from Noise and all ambitious ends Enjoy a few choice Books and fewer Friends Lord of my self accountable to none But to my Conscience and my God alone There live unthought of and unheard of die And grudg Mankind my very memory But since the Blessing is I find too great For me to wish for or expect of Fate Yet maugre all the spight of Destiny My Thoughts
in a Garret here A Garden there and Well that needs no Rope Engin or Pains to Crane its Waters up Water is there thro Natures Pipes convey'd For which no Custom or Excise is paid Had I the smallest Spot of Ground which scarce Would Summer half a dozen Grashoppers Not larger than my Grave tho hence remote Far as S. Michaels Mount I would go to 't Dwell there content and thank the Fates to boot Here want of Rest a nights more People kills Than all the College and the weekly Bills Where none have privilege to sleep but those Whose Purses can compound for their Repose In vain I go to bed or close my eyes Methinks the place the Middle Region is Where I lie down in Storms in Thunder rise The restless Bells such Din in Steeples keep That scarce the Dead can in their Church-yards sleep Huzza's of Drunkards Bell-mens midnight-Rhimes The noise of Shops with Hawkers early Screams Besides the Brawls of Coach-men when they meet And stop in turnings of a narrow Street Such a loud Medley of confusion make As drowsie A r on the Bench would wake If you walk out in Bus'ness ne'er so great Ten thousand stops you must expect to meet Thick Crowds in every Place you must charge thro And storm your Passage wheresoe're you go While Tides of Followers behind you throng And pressing on your heels shove you along One with a Board or Rafter hits your Head Another with his Elbow bores your side Some tread upon your Corns perhaps in sport Mean while your Legs are cas'd all o're with Dirt. Here you the March of a slow Funeral wait Advancing to the Church with solemn State There a Sedan and Lacquies stop your way That bears some Punk of Honor to the Play Now you some mighty piece of Timber meet Which tott'ring threatens ruin to the Street Next a huge Portland Stone for building Pauls It self almost a Rock on Carriage rowls Which if it fall would cause a Massacre And serve at once to murder and interr If what I've said can't from the Town affright Consider other dangers of the Night When Brickbats are from upper Stories thrown And emptied Chamber-pots come pouring down From Garret Windows you have cause to bless The gentle Stars if you come off with Piss So many Fates attend a man had need Ne'er walk without a Surgeon by his side And he can hardly now discreet be thought That does not make his Will e're he go out If this you scape twenty to one you meet Some of the drunken Scowrers of the Street Flush'd with success of warlike Deeds perform'd Of Constables subdu'd and Brothels storm'd These if a Quarrel or a Fray be mist Are ill at ease a nights and want their Rest. For mischief is a Lechery to some And serves to make them sleep like Laudanum Yet heated as they are with Youth and Wine If they discern a train of Flamboes shine If a Great Man with his gilt Coach appear And a strong Guard of Foot-boys in the rere The Rascals sneak and shrink their Heads for fear Poor me who use no Light to walk about Save what the Parish or the Skies hang out They value not 't is worth your while to hear The scuffle if that be a scuffle where Another gives the Blows I only bear He bids me stand of force I must give way For'twere a slensless thing to disobey And struggle here where I 'd as good oppose My self to P and his Mastiffs loose Who 's there he cries and takes you by the Throat Dog are you dumb Speak quickly else my Foot Shall march about your Buttocks whence d' ye come From what Bulk-ridden Strumpet reeking home Saving your reverend Pimpship where d' ye ply How may one have a Iob of Lechery If you say any thing or hold your peace And silently go off 't is all a case Still he lays on nay well if you scape so Perhaps he 'l clap an Action on you too Of Battery nor need he fear to meet A Jury to his turn shall do him right And bring him in large Damage for a Shooe Worn out besides the pains in kicking you A Poor Man must expect nought of redress But Patience his best in such a case Is to be thankful for the Drubs and beg That they would mercifully spare one leg Or Arm unbroke and let him go away With Teeth enough to eat his Meat next day Nor is this all which you have cause to fear Oft we encounter midnight Padders here When the Exchanges and the Shops are close And the rich Tradesman in his Counting-house To view the Profits of the day withdraws Hither in flocks from Shooters-Hill they come To seek their Prize and Booty nearer home Your Purse they cry 't is madness to resist Or strive with a cock'd Pistol at your Breast And these each day so strong and numerous grow The Town can scarce afford them Jail-room now Happy the times of the old Heptarchy E're London knew so much of Villany Then fatal Carts thro Holborn seldom went And Tyburn with few Pilgrims was content A less and single Prison then would do And serv'd the City and the County too These are the Reasons Sir which drive me hence To which I might add more would Time dispense To hold you longer but the Sun draws low The Coach is hard at hand and I must go Therefore dear Sir farewel and when the Town From better Company can spare you down To make the Country with your Presence blest Then visit your old Friend amongst the rest There I 'll find leisure to unlade my mind Of what Remarques I now must leave behind The Fruits of dear Experience which with these Improv'd will serve for hints and notices And when you write again may be of use To furnish Satyr for your daring Muse. A Dithyrambick The Drunkards Speech in a Mask Written in Aug. 1677. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I. YES you are mighty wise I warrant mighty wise With all your godly Tricks and Artifice Who think to chouse me of my dear and pleasant Vice Hence holy Sham in vain your fruitless Toil Go and some unexperienc'd Fop beguile To some raw ent'ring Sinner cant and Whine Who never knew the worth of Drunkenness and Wine I 've tried and prov'd and found it all Divine It is resolv'd I will drink on and die I 'll not one minute lose not I To hear your troublesom Divinity Fill me a top-full Glass I 'll drink it on the Knee Confusion to the next that spoils good Company II. That Gulp was worth a Soul like it it went And thorowout new Life and Vigor sent I feel it warm at once my Head and Heart I feel it all in all and all in every part Let the vile Slaves of Bus'ness toil and strive Who want the Leisure or the Wit to live While we Life's tedious journey shorter make And reap those Joys which they lack sence to take Thus live the