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

CANTO III.

An old Ape has an old Eye, Cheat all you can come nigh, Do it under the Canopy. Say nothing to the Standers by, They'l make a fearful Outcry. Slip aside the Rout among, 'Tis clear gains, if you can hold your Tongue. Let 'um call you Rogue and Knave, So you but the Profit have.

Laugh at them that call you Fools, For suffering you to work with their Tools, And for it hiss 'um out of the Schools. Quod defertur, non aufertur, is a very good Clench, Claim Possession a thousand year hence, And from that time a Fool Commence. Abanadaba curat Febrim, Starve no Cause, Pone Legem.

Every day, Pro Hic & Nunc, Now and anon too, You may have a Punk; If you want Cash, your Cause is sunk. In formâ Pauperis your Suit commence, I'le warrant you the Day, a Thousand year hence.

O sweet Civility, thou'rt a meer Saint, A pure Beauty does never Paint. Alas, alas, we must be Civil, Tho we go all to the Devil. We cou'd not help it, I, nor No, Our Masters wou'd have it so. ‘ With the World I'm well acquainted, ‘ With all Vice, in my time, I've been tainted. ‘ I have been as good as ever twang'd, ‘ I have seen many an honester Body hang'd.

Steal, Rogue and Whore, in the way of Civility, Flatter and Lye in the way of Gentility. Kill all Nations in point of Honour, Be as bloody as Bishop Bonner. In a mad Mood kill all you meet, Or take the Wall in the Street. I'le tell you a Trick, if you have been to blame, And find it hard to cover the shame, Feast and Caress in the Devils Name.

Be sure put on a Brazen Face, And speak Big to the Man with a Mace. Court all you can the Populace, This will cover your Disgrace. He's a brave Man to the Poor and Rich, But he's hated worse than a Witch. They'l taste of his Cup, and lick in his Dish, And jeer him as much as his heart cou'd wish.

But this is a way to hide for a Time, The Malignity of any Crime, 'Till you come to your Prime.

Do some kindness to some poor Boys, This will stop some part of the Noise. They that you have took by the Teeth well, Won't stick to proclaim you a Fool and a Rake-hell. They that to do honesty dare be able, Will scorn to sit down at your counterfeit Table, Or set their Horses in your Stable. A wise Man will certainly try him, And an honest Man will never come nigh him, And a Man of Courage will defie him. Let 'um keep company with their own Scholars, Like to like, quoth the Devil to the Colliers.

‘ I'm got into a strange Vein, ‘ You see I have a working Brain, ‘ And how shall I get out of this strain. ‘ I have laboured a long Time, ‘ To leave this way of Vulgar Rhime. ‘ I am so crowed among the Rout, ‘ I must sweat before I can get out: ‘ And then I shall have another Bout, ‘ But still I'm resolv'd to be stout.

Courtesy, Kindness, Civility, Ingredients to make up Gentility. But to Cozen, Lye and Flatter, ‘ Makes all the Teeth of my Head chatter; ‘ What if I've none, that's no matter. Ladies virtuous and fair, Of Counterfeits have a care.

They are of a Dissembling Hue, Yet you may distinguish the False from the True.

Great Ones flatter one another, Every Interested Brother. By mean Men they must be courted, They love to hear all Lyes reported. Prefer that to be the best, Which makes for Private Interest. Have a care to fill up your Chest, That is, to feather your Nest.

There is a Grand Devil, that flyes Round about all the World in a Disguise 'Tis Beelzebub, the God of Flies, Purposely to dazle Mens Eyes. Puts a Mask of Virtue upon Vice, And circumvents you in a Trice. A perfect Crocadile, A Cockatrice to beguile. A glass-Eye, and a Silver-Tongue, Fair and foul, old and young; Above all take heed of a False Tongue.

I dare not own my Friend, if I know, He has a Great Man for his Foe. I dare not say, I, or No, I dare neither stop nor go. ‘ Rogues, I'le make you all whist, ‘ And stand still, tho you're all to be pist, ‘ I'le do with you what I list. ‘ Rogues, I have ye all at Command, ‘ If I do but wink, or wag my hand. ‘ I'le make you tremble, if I Nod, ‘ Down on your knees, if I shake my Rod.

He that complies against his will in Evil, Goes down Hill more and more to the Devil. After he has lost the right way, He finds he can neither stop nor stay. No matter for a Conscience Biter, Per scelera ad scelus tutum est Iter.

He that like a Fool shall say he's frail, Deserves to be tied to the Devil's Tail. If his Boat to ••ail be slow, The Devils may give him a Tow. 'Tis a favour he does use to bestow, And then you know whither ye must go. But what if the Devil pronounces a Curse? Stand, says the Thief, deliver your Purse, Send him to Proserpine to Nurse. He that's clothed in Scarlet and Silk, Shall suck a Witches or the Devils best Milk.

He and We, like Doves, shall be Billing, That does bad, when to do good he is willing. For this I'le help him to many a Shilling, And Pounds too, if it comes once to killing. There will be old hugging, At last it may come to tugging. ‘ I'le give him many a golden Wedge, ‘ To set his greedy Tooth on edge. ‘ And after all, I'le be his Pledge, ‘ And leave him to starve under an Hedge.

Out of a Dunghill gain smells well, Scum the Devil and rake Hell, When your Conscience you sell.

Sup it up, 'tis very good Broth, Infuse a Lye, or a damnable Oath, Such as to taste Old Nick wou'd be loth. As Good eat the Divel as his Broth, 'Tis scalding hot by my Troth.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 in their dogged dumps, Often put us to our Trumps. But we return them as many Frumps, And sett close upon all their Rumps. Logarithus, Algebra, Cossa Frighted Frederick Barbarossa. Systole and Diastole (put a good face on) Strike like a double Diapason. Find me a Green for my Goose to graze on.

If a Knave, of some small good by chance, be an Actor, He's cry'd up, by Fools, for a great Benefactor. He's forc'd to choose best, and leave the worse. For which he's branded with no less curse. Trust him not twice, for once well doing, A Suiter's forc'd to go oft a Woing, And perhaps to his own undoing. After many repulses are past, 'Tis hazard if he speed not at last, Who dares build upon the Lord's Waste?

He's ever charitably kind, To the man that's going down the wind. The meaning is, when all is set down, To turn him out of house and home. He feeds the Spendthrift Gallant with Coyn, The reason is, his Estate to undermine. He patches him up, in City and Town, On purpose at once to throw him down.

Master Scrivener, this is your drift, To get all he has, and leave him to shift, By this way you give Debtors a Lift.

He's never counted a right honest man, That do's not, at all times, do all the good he can. The Divel somtimes is good when he's pleas'd, He that has an Intermission, is still diseas'd. From him that ruffles in storms of Anger, In a Calm expect the greatest Danger, For still there sleeps a Dog in the Manger.

The man that is rarely in a distemper, Is call'd the man of an even temper, Have a care o'th the man that is passionate semper. Night and day you must watch and ward, Continually stand upon your Guard, Plead ne're so much reason, you can't be heard,

The man of good Principles, never fear him, You may oblige him and endear him: To himself and his Friend he's always true, That gives to every one his due. The man that eats another mans Bread, Devours the Living and the Dead. That Friend will ne're keep you from sorrow, That lends Money to day, demands it to morrow.

He that re-enters upon a day, Or takes a Forfeiture is a Knave, I say. Your Pawn is lost, for it is a crime, You did not exactly keep your time. To sell you the worst of my Wares I am willing, But trust, I must gain a Groat in the Shilling.

Ile break on purpose to compound With my Creditors, for Five Shillings in the Pound.

A Soph, a Poet, or a Rhetor, Slubbers a Cause, so don't a Praetor. To colour over a rotten Post, Over a Pot and a Tost. Folly, Prejudice, Hatred, Power, Disjoynts true Reason every hour, After Extortions to scape Hell; Build a School, creep to a Cell.

When Sin has left ye, Fast and Pray, Let Creditors for ever stay. In a Goal Drink, Roar and Whore, Let Tenants be for ever poor. Give no Satisfaction, make no Restitution, To your Honours Diminution. Undo Families never cry Peccavi, till you die.

Then let them their hearts out curse, But never open your Purse. No matter for Conscience or Good Name, Be sure to play your own Game. Pay nothing tho you be ne're so able, When the Steed's stoln, shut the Stable, Let your undone Creditors come to your Table. When you have got your Ends, Drunk 'em, Punk 'em, make 'em Friends.

You are feasting they are pining, You are rejoycing, they are whining. Deal a dole of Bread to the Poor, when Corn's dear, And cheat them of their Means by the year. Mumble your Mattins, Jumble your Beads, When you have chopt off innocent Heads.

Religon is a very good Paint. All's well, if you can but go for a Saint.

You are safe among Friars and Nuns, A Cloyster secures from all Duns. A Court a Camp will do the Feat, An ill Conscience is spruce and neat. When y' have done this, you 'r a Cock of the Game, The poor Rogues will all be tame. If they black you they are to blame, You are still a man of Fame.

If you grumble in the Gizard, Ne're trouble a Witch or a Wizard. But keep on a sanctified Vizard. Reason shan't be understood In Passion, be it ne're so good. Plead Mercy and Equity, They'l mock, 'Tis all one, as to speak to a Rock. Ne're trust the man in a Frock, Ne're take a woman in her Smock.

By your leave and good favour, I say, something has some savour, I won't be meal-mouth'd, the Truth to smother, Let a Bride Bring her Meat, drink and Cloth along with her, If you be a Cuckold, She's just such another.

Invite Debtors to Christmas Cheer, And then all's discharg'd, all's clear. Their mouths are stopt, their Clamours cease, Depopulation is call'd a very good Peace, When all your Vassals are at ease; And the Lords may do what they please.

The Indians Countrey is invaded, To live Slaves they are perswaded, So the Greeks by the Turks are Jaded. Poor conquer'd Slaves must not thrive, 'Tis well if they be sav'd alive. The whole World runs upon Wheels, Every one oppression feels,

But every one that feels wrong or pain, Must not be so sawcy as to complain. If he do, he's held down by Might and Main, And gag'd by the Inquisition of Spain. Sent to the Gallies, or the Mines, If he cannot pay his Fines. I don't like this dealing underhand, When men above board may fairly command.

Get to bed to a Citizens Wife, The Husband leads a Cuckold's life. She shall enrich the Cuckold-maker, Be he Ranter or Quaker. The Merchant deals in Forreign Wares, But understands not his Home-Affairs, 'Tis no part of his cares. He trusts abroad, and he trusts at Home, Rich Goods and Bastards take up Room. Alas, saies the Bawd, it was his doom, Poor man, let him hang out the Broom.

If it were not so, you must understand, He should have none to inherit his Land. The Wife at home, and the Husband abroad, Both drive a subtile trade, So you may ride your Horse to a Jade.

Alas, his head never akes, For all the care his Wife takes, A horned Pate sound sleep ne're breaks. 'Tis ever a contented life, To be a Cuckold without strife.

Fellows of Houses take the least care, When they lack, they may borrow a Townsmans Mare; The best in the Stable to a Friend they can spare, And are beholden to them for their care. Their Pupils custom shall make them amends, So Scholars and Townsmen are very good Friends, And both serve for their own Ends.

He that drinks hard, and Whores, 'tis an even lay, If he don't shortly break and run away. A Mis, a Lacquay, a Countrey House, and a Coach, Are the fore-runners of a Broach. He is gone to run his Range, Proclaim'd Bankrupt upon the Change. It may be this man was a Teacher, Or a Bankrupt overeacher.

The Brotherhood, while he's in Spain, Joyn to make him whole again. This course every Sanctified Brother Takes, by compounding for one another. The Sisters will do many a Job, 'Tis no Sin the Wicked to rob. The Egyptians, most odly, Are bound to enrich the Godly.

All is theirs to inherit, Because they have the true Merit, And do all by the Spirit.

If the Wicked be saved from Slaughter, Dub them Slaves to the Godly ever after. Weak Rogues are fit to live no longer, Then they can be drudges to the stronger. But specially the Godly Breed, Must be enriched by Prophane Seed.

If an honest good Fellow break his Crupper, He may as soon behang'd as get his Supper. If a Lady of pleasure fall in two pieces, Her Gallants present her with Golden pieces. There's Nurses and Midwifes provided ready. For She kept her reckoning steddy. Poor Whores, when old, rott and die, You need not ask the reason why. Rich Whores, when old, Stallions Maintain, The Moon lacks help when she's in the Wain.

Letchery in Fratribus & Sororibus Lippis notum est, & Tonsoribus. Mariners are Nervosum genus, For the Seas sake, Friends to Venus. With Vulcan therefore She, Like Fire and Water can't agree.

The Fucus of vain Eloquence, To solid Laws gives great Offence. A Golden Tongue shivers a Cause, Baffles all Equity and Laws. When Lives and Fortunes lie at stake, It makes the Peoples hearts ake. What Brain's left in the Judges skull, Whom the Advocate shall gull.

Daunts Witnesses, like Boys, By the Horror of a thundring Noise. By the fair Tongues Froth and Foam, A Golden Plaister to a Wall of Loam. By Fraud was taken Bergen ap Soam. Bars of Gules, Azure, Or and Argent, Stab a fair Text by a foul Gloss in Margent. So the Conqueror comes off rident, As did the Pope in the Council of Trident.

Mahomet is for an Armed Law, As fittest to keep the World in Aw. Justinian aim'd at Right, and Ease, The better to keep the World in Peace: But the Sword gets the Golden Fleece. Justice counts her self ne're the worse, Defended by the Sword and Purse, Of these Religion should be the Nurse.

When Oratory shall be banish'd, Controversies will soon be vanish'd. This Harlot has advanced Gowns, And overwhelmed Righteous Crowns. 'Tis the Tongue and the Pen, Than the Sword has kill'd more men.

The Court of rare Venetian Sages, For pure Justice most engages. They scorn to stoop to Flattery or Fears, To be took by the Teeth or Ears. This Case Vegelius to them applied, For Reformation, and was not denied.

Venice is no Witch, I dare swear; for 'tis said, A thousand Years she has continued a Maid.

She's plaguy cunning in all her work, To save from being ravish'd by the Turk. If I had had a thousand Maidenheads, long before I should have lost them, and found them, o're and o're, As they do, that so oft get behind the door.

'Tis a cursed thing to be an old Maid, Patience upon force, and yet never decaid, The men are hard hearted, I am afraid, 'Tis not for want of Will in the least, To have a good Stomach, and want a Feast. I would not wish more ill luck to a Beast, This Veniat is the Phoenix Nest. She may Well bear a Phoenix in her Crest. The Arabian Phoenix is but a Jest.

I have heard it often said, Very few good Workmen of a Trade. The Vintners art, as now we see, Quere if Poysning it may not be? A man that hath of Honour tasted, His Name is on a sudden blasted. The Tallest Cedars have the Luck, And sturdy Oakes to be Planet struck.

In private Interest the Business lies, To do good to our Families. But in publick the greatest health, Is to promote the Common-Wealth, And to do nothing at all by stealth. A Publick Spirit is the Queen of all Dames, Her Subjects get everlasting Names. So a Laurel fresh and green, Burnt, Red and Withered I have seen.

Schools, Hospitals, Castles, Bridges, Merit honourable Priviledges. In all these nothing but honesty's included, And all base selfishness excluded. Divels what have you to do here? By Right you ought not to come nere, Where there's no Wine, nor strong Beer, Nor a Bit of good Cheer. Where you come, you make all clear. Dogs run away with whole Joynts, As you do with Pottles and Pints.

There's a young Divel, Opportunity, Much acquainted with Importunity, That takes Time by the Forelock, To give his Enemy a sore knock. Not like old Time, who runs on a main, But never, like him, returns again.

Cupid, the blind Archer shoots poyson'd Darts, 'Tis his luck to hit the wisest Hearts; His Bow and Quiver disturb more People, Than all the Guns above Paul's Steeple. He puts the Scholar to his Trumps, And makes him study nothing but upon Rumps, And try to dance without Pumps. Bona Terra, mala Gens, Your Question, when ever you Doctor commence. Who can deny a Prety Wench?

Sirrah, watch well your Masters Eye. Do as he does, laugh or cry, And if he bid you, live or die. In company frown or smile, As your Lord does, all the while.

Parasite you may be bold, With your Master to rail or scold, For a good Dinner, hot or cold.

Obligation and Compliance his mate, Never meddle with matters of State. Obligation takes too much upon her, In point of Honesty and Honour: Put Honesty and Civility together, Shake 'm and choose you whether, If of Honesty there be a Cessation, Within the Lines of Communication. 'Twill breed a Conscience Vastation, Which is a Knaves Demonstration.

If you can get to be Conscience proof, Steal an Ox and leave the Hoof, And believe you were honest enough; Let no Justice come under your Roof; But from Equity keep aloof. Too much Honesty as well as Civility, The Heralds say does extinguish Gentility.

By Honesty too much invaded, Nobility and Gentry are degraded. To take heed by all means of Restitution, Is a Courtiers Constitution. Never give to a Contribution, For fear of a Purses Diminution. 'Tis an Honour for the Poor to serve 'em, 'Tis a Favour for the Rich to starve 'em.

They that dissemble with Kings, Emperors and Ruling things.

Hope to avoid all deadly Stings. Of such Parasites the World Rings. Every Rebellious Combination, Endangers no less than Damnation; 'Twas never so seen among our Occupation.

Yet still, all the cry against us lies, 'Tis we are the common Sacrifice. All hate 'gainst us is directed still, 'Cause we keep Folk from having their Will, And than others we have more Skill. I'le appeal to the God of Flies, Whether we ever told so many Lyes, Only they count us for Gossips and Spies.