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

CANTO IX.

Bear up for Bantam, Port Tailor, Is there any knowledge in a Sailor? Main-sail, Top-sail, Sprit-sail, Mizn, Thou Rogue, I once redeem'd thee out of Prison. We need none of your Tackles, For we trudge o're the World in Shackles. Observe it, we have kept our station In all parts, since the Creation.

I say then, Bear up for Bantam, And back agen for Steeple-Grantam;

Thence to the famous Strasburgh Towr, There's a rare Clock, then keep your Hour; And, as sure as a Club, Drink at Heydelburgh's great Tub. Haste away, get you to the Spaw To be Parboil'd, for ye are Raw.

Take a Dram first, your hearts to chear, Of Brandy, Mum, or Spruce-Beer. Shoot the Gulf of Magellan, Or Gibraltar, thence to Tapobran; Post away with Neck in Rope, To the Cape of good Hope: Madagascar is hard by, At St. Helens you may lye: Thence to Potosi and Chios, Panama, and Nombre de Dios.

Fetch a compass to the Sluis, To Norway, and Ward-Huis: Back to Molucca, Ormus, Isle of Pines, To Japan and the Philippines. By virtue of a Cup of Stingo, Fly to St. Jago, and St. Dominga. Mexico and Malabar, All the Land under the South-Star.

Cut the Line in all his Topicks, Tack about to all the Tropicks. Salute the Twelve Signs, though ye melt, That hang upon the Zodiack Belt.

To Nile and Ganges send away, At Tanais, Volga, make no stay;

Euphrates, Danow, Nieper, Rhine, Loyr, Rhodan, Tamesis, and Tyne. About Ship, perhaps you may meet With the East-India, or Plate-Fleet. In a Frolick, a Bravado, Touch at St. Kitts, or Trinidado. Brasil, Peru, long to see your Faces, They are Silver and Golden Places. Make haste, for we intend to Ease us At Cymbric and Tauric Chersonesus.

These Spaniards, how they Firk The poor Indians to work: In those Gold and Silver Veins, These poor Slaves take all the Pains. Waters, Fires, and poys'nous Damps Destroy 'um, besides Falls and Cramps. Mastiffs fright 'um out of Town Into Woods, and hunt 'um down. Lend me thy Slave to day, so Spaniards borrow, And I'le lend thee my Slave to morrow.

Alas, poor Atabalipa, Thy Life and Kingdom was took away! Indeed and indeed, this was a deadly lift, Given by Pope to Charles the Fifth. Kings lack Removes; Vassals, Slaves, Are thrust from Prisons to their Graves: But this poor King paid for his Ransom, I must needs say, It was not Handsom; His Prison honestly with Gold he fill'd, And after that was basely kill'd.

But I knew, when I was a Maid, A greater, better King betray'd.

A Conquer'd King, in vile Disguise, To his false Scotish Subjects flyes; And they, for a golden Inspection, Sell him to an Independent Section: They send him to a Gaol Protection, Then to a Deaths Scaffold's Erection; A Presbyterian Projection, And a damn'd National Infection! I'le warrant 'um for this the worse, To lie under an Everlasting Curse.

Are ye squat, Rowze up ye Rump-seuttle Whores, Ye lazy Hags turn out a doors; For I must leady' another Dance, From fair Albion into France: From the Island of Fairies, To Corvo's, Floro's, and Canaries. There's good Liquor, make a stand, You must cross to Newfound-Land.

Post from thence and cut the Line, And away for Abyssine. Prester-John's a Jolly King, they say, 'Twill please him to see you dance the Hay. Speed, get you up by Noon, To the Mountains of the Moon. Find out the hoary Head of Nile, To Meroes Lake 'tis but a Mile. Look out sharp, Bitches seek out, I'm certain 'tis thereabout.

You're now in Africa, ye Whores, Dance a Jig among the Moors: See what Monsters you can find Above what you are, in your kind.

Over to Italy, make a stop, And call at Aetna, Vulcan's Shop. Ask what new's there, drink ye, smoak ye, All the Vapors of Hell choak ye.

Then stay ye till I come, I'le meet you at Naples and Rome. Upon Egypt ope your Lids, Skip up and down the Pyramids. Observe exactly your Commands, And get ye to the Lybian-Sands. Call in at Morocco and Fez, There you may stay and take your Ease.

Hide, you'l be took upon Suspition, At the Spanish Inquisition. For pity take some pains To save the Pygmies from the Cranes. If ye will deserve the Garter, (I had almost said, the Halter, For my Speech began to falter;) Defend the Chinese from the Tartar. Once more secure 'um all By making up the Hole i'th' Wall.

Go guard the Europe Caravans, 'Gainst the Wild Arabians; Ishmaelites and Sarazens, Lurking about in Thievish Dens. Myrmidons, Scythian and Tartar, As true as ever wore a Garter.

What are the Tritons, but Sea-Swobbers, A Company of Pirates and Robbers?

What are Fawns, Satyrs, and Nymphs, But a kind of ugly Imps? Dryades and Hamadryades, The Watry Spawn of Pleiades.

Try what ye can do, upon all occasions, To save Hungary from Invasions. Lituania, Poland, Mosco, Send 'um Franciscus de Sacrâ Bosco. Russia's troubled with the Bears, Set 'um together by the Ears. Let Lapland Witches scratch and bite, Gothland will rejoyce at the sight.

What think ye of Amstelodami, Leyden or Roterodami; Franiker, Gouda, Utrecht, Dort, Where the Synod was allamort? They lie near Hell, you must needs know it, You have Business there, and you must show it. Stay, and be drunk 'mong 'um a while, Help a lame Dog o're the Stile.

Norway, Denmark, Swedeland are Cold, There's no good Wine, I am told; But there's good Company, 'tis said, And many of them of your Trade. Germany's a large Tract, and France, Keep 'um still at Variance. Maintain the ancient Enmity 'Twixt Capet's, and the Austrian Family.

When the Spaniard begins to Swagger, Send him a Rapier to his Dagger.

When there shall be no Antipathy 'Tween these Nations, let 'um agree: And as for the Italian Mode, Both hate it, more than they do a Toad. The Scots are False, the Welsh love Leeks, Of all give me the Merry Greeks.

The French too much courts and cringes, The Portugal's off o'th' Hinges. The brave English Nation, If they be wise, will keep their Station. Visit 'um all, never fear, You'l Welcom there and every where. There's all sorts to please your Palats, Truly, we don't live all on Sallads.

Call in at Madrid, grave and wise, Extol Toledo to the Skies: Salamanca for Degrees, Conimbricenses for Learned Fees. Malaga for Sack and Raysons, In Spain there is no Treasons: Poor and Proud, if you will, But Seigniors and Dons still.

Religioso's and Profano's, Generoso's d' Altos Montanos. Tell 'um of a Moorish Blood, 'Tis a Tale of Robbin-Hood. But so it was hundreds of years, Try 'um all by their Peers. (Swans and Peacocks from fair Eggs Are fair Birds, but have all Black Legs.) But they are Wise, and you are Able To advise a Spanish Table.

Your Business is, to try Conclusions, And put the World into Confusions. At last, when this Race is run, Home agen, Home agen, Market's done.