Canidia, or, The witches a rhapsody, in five parts / by R.D.

THE WITCHES.

CANTO I.

I Fear you'l count me Knave and Fool, For telling Tales thus out of School. But perhaps you may like it well, If I tell stories out of Hell. I say, there they are all Drunk and Mad, Jovial, or Melancholy sad. 'Tis nothing what here you see and know, To that which is acted here below.

Something like, but not the same, Either for Nature or Name. The Perfection of all that's Base, Is demonstration of Hell's Grace. There's roaring, Revelling and Damming, Blaspheming, Cursing and Ramming. 'Tis beyond Limming and Painting. To describe Infernal Ranting.

Hatching and contriving Plots, Drawing Cuts and casting Lots, Breaking Pates, Glasses and Pots. Answering Spells and Conjurations, Towards the Ruine of all Nations. Promoting all degrees of Strife, Taking away every Honest Life, Wars, Plagues, Famines, Invasions, Fires, Waters, are their Recreations.

By Evil Spirits secret lurking, Politick Pates are set a••working. Each beggarly, malicious Varlet, Strives to pull down men in Scarlet. No Ill acted Above, I trow, But is projected close below.

For you must know, each damned Spirit▪ Doth a greater Wit Inherit, Than Mortal Wights yet ever had, Nor can they be fully so bad. They are the Springs and Engineers, To screw up Jealousies and Fears. 'Till they come up to th' highest pitch, Far above all that we can call Witch.

Creating Lyes and false Pretences, Whence all Destruction commences. In Common-wealths and mighty States, Amongst Princes and Potentates. Plenipotentiaries, Masters, Orators thence hatch all Disasters. Lawyers Tongues are Tipt, to prate Right or Wrong, at any rate.

Packets ••rom Witches daily ••ly, With wonderful Celerity; To Pluto's Court Posts all about, Come crowding through the Damned Rout. The News in ev'ry corner Rang, At which the meager Spirits sprang For Joy, to hear the Mischief done In all Places under the Sun.

At which the nimble Caitiffs prance, And all the tatterd Mallions dance. Not a base Goblin but will skip, No slavish Robin but will trip, Frisk it brave, curveat, and cut It handsomly with his stump Foot.

Each grizly Ghost, that er'st lookt grim, Appears in Print, spruce, tight and trim. Each ugly Empuse, with his Mate, Gossips it up and down in state▪ The dullest melancholy Wight, Envy its self, comes now in sight: And like a Gallant too will strut, A Thin-chopt Wretch with shrunk-up-Gut.

Each horrid Fury now could plate Her snaky Tresses 'bout her Pate, And frizle too; each Elf was quaint, And for a shift could skill to paint. They know how to make bare their Breasts, Shoulders and Back, Arms and Wrests. They understand the Wanton-glare, And with a rowling Eye-ball stare.

They had the right Leering awry, The lustful glancing of the Eye▪ They had the demure Simpring grace, The Forehead high, and Brazen Face, The scornful Flirt, the Jetting Gate, And every idle stinking State. They had their famous Indian Plumes, Top and Top gallant, rare Perfumes. Arabick Odors of the best, Snatcht from the dying Phoenix Nest.

They had the Perewick, the C••ll, The monstrous Tires, the Devil and All. Their black Bags, Buck••••m, bumbast Shapes, Their Doublets and short Jumps, like Apes. Chippins, Galloches, Samars, Manto's, And all the Modes in the Curranto's. Wanton Aerial Lawns that hover, And do immodest Parts discover.

They had their Mufflers, Fans and Vails, Their Masks and Busks, and Vardingals. Their Gorgets, Points, knots and Muffs, Pickad••llo Bands, and Cart-wheel Ruffs.

‘ Pardon, kind Reader, if at all ‘ I some forget, or some miscall▪ ‘ My Ladies Waiting-Maid, perhap, ‘ Me in these Fopperies might trap. ‘ Or her right Reverend Usher carp, ‘ And swear how oft amiss I harp. ‘ In all these Implements, in good Truth, ‘ You do my Lady wrong forsooth. ‘ But let such Fancies know, I hit ‘ In general at what's fit.

They have their walking Mates on ground, On Horse and Coach, the Foysting Hound. The wanton witty Ape that squats, Chatters and pisses in their Laps. Their curious hands support the gay, Canary Bird, or Popinjay. They have the Monky, the Musk Cat, To make them laugh, to make them chat. Not a Device, but they had caught, And, as I think, our Gallants taught.

They had the French, the Italian, Spanish, Dutch and Polonian Postures to a hair, Courtesie That does belong to Cap or Knee. They had the slovenly Dutch slop. The Pastbord Pad, or English Crop. The curtail'd Cloak, and the French Felt, The Munmoth Cap, the Zodiaque Belt. The Bilbo Blade, and Jyngling Spur, The Monstrous Boot, and Cap of Fur. The Antique Trunk, Scant Hose, wide Ruff, The Wounded Doublet, and the Buff.

The Persian Cassock, the Flat, Steeple••crownd, narrow, broad-brim'd Hat. Bands and Crevats; If I should range, I must ransack the Exchange: But I am drawn dry, I must give o're, I am quite spent, I can no more.

Who ever was Companion made To th'Elfs of Hells Infernal shade? Who through Mare Mortuum, Hath sail'd to fair Elysium?

Who hath as Pilgrim past along To Styx, Cocytus, Acheron? To Ghosts, to Furies, who hath been, A fearful fellow-Citizen?

He may perhaps call to mind, The Devils of every kind: And how the monstrous horrid Lust, Of Incubus and Succubus. Damn'd Copulation, produce, Or Goblin, Fairy, or Empuse. Which appear in as many Fashions, As are used in all Nations.