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

CANIDIA, OR The Witches. A RHAPSODY. (Book 3)

Prologue.

I Canidia, inspir'd with Rage, Advance my Satyr on the Stage, In Revenge to Act my Part, With a Bloody Hand and Heart. Stultorum plena sunt omnia, Let me Interpret Nebulonum Somnia.

Sophies, Poets, Clerks, Jurisconsults, Come before Me and pay your Mulcts. I tell You, I'le not spare y' a Man, Nor Devil neither, if I can. My sharp Pen dipt in Poyson'd Gall, Resolves to perstringe you, One and All. Though you may question my Skill, You'l find I do not want a Will.

What's a Woman, or Woman kind; Have Patience, you shall know my Mind. O ye Learned Tribe, I love you; But know, that I am Above you, And when you're Knaves, I dare reprove you. 'Tis We, and those of our Professions, That can read you better Lessons. Give us leave to teach you and your Crew, Better than all your Dunce-Doctors can do.

Then boast not of getting the Day, We'l hold you Everlasting Play. We care not for your Syllogisms, Elenchus's, Fallacies, Paralogisms. When you are beat by Strength of Reason, We know, you'l take your selves to Treason. We charge you all with Hate and Strife, Ne're ceasing till you take our Life.

For this very Reason, I'le swinge ye, Beat down your Pride and quite unhindge ye: Level all your Bulwarks and Forts, Keep you from Cowardly Resorts. Because we wo'nt fly to your Altars, You persecute us▪ with Faggots and Halters.

I challenge and post you Dons for Base, Thus to bring Ladies into Disgrace.

Look to your Hitts, then, Have a Care, We'l be Revenge'd 'fore you're aware. They say, Threatned Folk live long, If Others ben't for them too strong. We have Black and Blew Arts, To act all sorts of Deadly Parts. I shall demonstrate all your Lies, That walk like Angels in Disguise, Three things there be which should not Jar, The Stage, the Pulpit, and the Bar.

THE WITCHES.

CANTO I.

MAke not any great Inquiry, Philosophi docent Nihil Scire. To a hollow Trunk lay close your Ear, There's a Chain fastned to Jove's Chair. Soul of Universe wheels about the Primum Mobile, The Spheres in Consort sing Nobile. The longest Sword, the most overreaching Wit, Get, and dispose Rights as they think fit.

Find a Staff to beat a Dog, Get a Butcher to kill a Hog. Jura negat sibi nata (Pompey sings,) Nihil non arroga Armis, say Kings. Some Negatives may have Sense, The best Right, is the Present Tense.

Mercurius Trismegistus in his Pimander, Observe how strangely his Wits do wander; You can scarce know a Goose from a Gander:

And I dare lay an even Stake, 'Tis as hard to discover a Duck from a Drake. Give him good store of Cock-Broth and Gelly, That reckons up Happiness by the Belly.

Facile credimus, quod volumus; Difficile facimus, quod nolumus. Quicquid Libet, Licet; Quicquid in Buccam venit dicit, Cum dira Libid•• moverit Inguen, Fall to a Goose, or a Turky-Cock Pinguem.

The Poets Creed, Three hundred Joves, Gods of all sorts of Hatreds and Loves. Apollo drove Admetus's Kine, The back of Europa's Bull did shine. Neptune was Laomedon's Mason; Medea slew Children of her Husband Jason. Jupiter in the Scene was a Droll, But was worshipped in the Capitol.

The Vulgar by their Gods were betray'd, To burn Men, till a Plague was stay'd. The Judgment of the Angurs Bench, Was to sacrifice a Yellow-hair'd Wench. Apollodorus offered a rich Tunick and Pall, To Socrates while he drank up his Gall: And to wrap him in, when dead he should fall; But the dead Corps, was not Socrates, All.

Mens cujusque est quisque, or Every one's All, The Better Part, we the Person call. Pluto always us'd a Hospitable Bowl, And Aristotle had a dry Soul.

Is a dry Soul most Wise? Tell me not such Rowzing Lies. Some Souls may sink deep in a Slough, Some brave Generals have come from the Plough.

Quis docuit Psittaco suum 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉? Never let an Eunuch Marry. Poets are Men of great Parts, The Belly is a Master of Arts. Variety of Wits, Fine, Search for in Coelius Rhodigine. Sun and Moon are Hermophradites; Apollo 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Lights.

Veioves, Oromazes, Praestigiators, Idols of divers Forms and Natures: For bloody Altars, Babes unborn, Are from their Mothers Bellies torn. Lust and Victims of Humane Blood, Solemn Devotions made good.

Menogenes, old Pompey's Cook, Exactly bore his Masters Look; Publicius for his Son was took: So the basest Slips, by Midwives Lies, Are Ingrafted into Noble Families. An Elephant with a huge Proboscis, Non est longum, à quo nihil demere possis.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 plena, Is a Sorcerer's Catilina. Fasten your Gods in Chains to the Wall, For fear they should run away, or fall.

Bar them up with Brazen Doors, Lest they should run abroad to Whores. I remember a Time, when the Tutelar gods In a Counter-scuffle fell at odds.

Marcellus's Olive-yard took a flight, And fled over the way in a dark Night: For these and such like Fables, Magick was Capital, by the Twelve Tables. Hercules Labours, so famous in Rhimes, Is the course of the Sun through the Twelve Signs, The true Ancile, or Palladium, Was brought by Aeneas from Troy to Latium.

The Plots of Livia were Mysterious, To poyson Augustus and set up Tiberius. Julia his Daughter, and his Niece were both Whores, Sordid Agrippa was turn'd out a Doors. Caius and Lucius their Father Try'd, When in Twelve Months they both dy'd. Those Men, said he, lead happy Lives, That die without Children, or live without Wives.

In such black Deeds you must understand, Witches evermore deal under-hand. Wind-Mill headed Egypt turn'd to all sorts of Gods, Steady Rome whipt them with all sorts of Rods. The unlucky Ape got among the Pots, And overturn'd all Dodona's Lots. Aristotle in his Works lay forgotten, Long while after he was dead and Rotten.

Saturnus expell'd by his Son a long Spatium, For fear of a Rebel lay hid in Latium.

Nero's Quinquennium was a Calm, It turn'd into Blood, that was formerly Balm. Many a Lye, many a Fable, Is engrav'd on the Souls Razed Table. Mensa Philosophica was full of good Fare; But Coena Pontificia was the most Rare.

Judge you, a Toad or a Rat Fly at a Man, Run away from a Cat. The Witches were more Famous in Samaria, Than ever in Lancashire or Bavaria. Should I follow Meanders of Sophisters Race, They would lead me a Wild-Goose Chace.

CANTO II.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Aborigines, a Gang Of Terrae Filii, that from the Ground sprang. Since that Descending Generations May draw Lots for true Procreations: As Lybians did for Fathers; so others May as well do the same for Mothers. Filius vulgi, if you come once to Try us, Will come all to one, with Filius Nullius.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. The Common Mother, All can tell; Our private Dames we know not so well. Into Earth surely all are Resolv'd; But after Genealogies in doubts are Involv'd. 'Tis a Wise Son that knows his Dad; He that knows his Mum too is a pretty Lad.

Tantum Confusio suadet Malorum, When Brats can't bring their true Sires before 'um.

He bespatters himself, qui in Coelum spuit, He smothers himself qui in Terram Ruit. Turinus for selling of Smoak, Deserv'd for his Purchase by Vapors to Choak, Orpheus to Boys for being so kind, Was justly murthered by Women-kind. Olympias durst not be counted Joves Whore, For fear Juno should pay her old Score.

Cleomenes had the Art To fly in the Air, as swift as a Dart. Souls sing By the Elysian Fountains, And dance behind the Arabian Mountains. Whist, Geese, forbear to talk; Lambs, keep out of the Foxes Walk. A good Man, they say, is a Common Good; So is the Devil, in a good Mood.

When Castor and Pollux together do shine, Fair Weather Seamen, be merry and Dine: But if single they hap to appear, They are for a Storm, though the Weather be Clear. Facile est addere Inventis, A Fool is seldom Compos Mentis. Ballance the Bottles of the Clouds, Wrap up Borea's Shrouds.

Tell me the express Critical Way, That parts, in a Minute, the Light from the Day. The Snow and the Hail, are envelop'd in Clouds, The Rain is poured through Spouts.

Mazareth measured Time, When old Saturn was in his Prime. Arcturus will prove the Seamans Guide, When Pleiades all in a Cluster Hide. When Sea-men sail against the Wind, Be sure they leave the Devil behind.

Alexander from India wrote To Aristotle, what he had forgot; That in those Regions the Sun Spake Oracles in the Indian and Greek Tongue. But withal, the Ignorant Moon Spake in the Indian Language alone. Observe how Bees swarm in a Cluster, And how Ants in a Mole-Hill Muster.

Once in an Age you may get a Prize, A Venus, by Chance, upon Praenestine Dice. So Virtue by a Lottery comes in, Ten thousand Blanks for a Silver Pin. Neptunes Faith, among the Fables, Approv'd by great Numbers of Votive Tables: But, replies an unlucky Knave, To so many drown'd, how few doth he save? So many Tables, if hung up, I'le be bold, All Neptunes Temples could not hold.

CANTO III.

You'le say, I have a brazen Face, To lead you such a Wild-Goose-Chace: To tell you so many Lies, So many Large, so many Minum Deities, Cartesian Feminine Philosophies. I've dipt my Lips in Fonte Caballino, Told more Tales than Horatio Palavicino.

Alexandrian Hypatia, Joves Daughter, Taught better Philosophy than all that came after. The rest, like Hodmadods, drew in their Poles, Like pitiful Worms crept into their Holes. The Roman State thought it no Blur, To celebrate the Funerals of a Coblers Cur. Veritas rectè Representat, Quos Jupiter vult perdere Hos Dementat.

Wot you not, how the World Rings Of Castalion, Colophon, Prophetick Springs. Oracles were took with a Spirit Dumb, Ask Questions, and the Answer is, Mum. Nicander the Wizard frighted 'um well, And Pythia was took Mad in her Cell: So all the Colledge of Priests were moapt, After they had in Delphos Secrets groapt.

Virgin Menstrua's, the Passive Stock, To the obstructed Matrix Flock. For want of the Plastick Male Seed, Rude Lumps, like Cubs, of Flesh do breed.

The Golden Waters of the Powder of Calf, Made Judas Gold-Beards to make you Laugh. So came Knaves so well to be known, When their Carret-Beards were grown.

The Load-Stone of Temporal Interest, Strains Courtesie with Conscience, all for the Best. The Idols of Devils, of sanctified Mettals, Were boldly melted into Pans and Kettles. Dull-pated Vulcan, club Footed and Fisted, Had the luck with fair Venus to be Twisted. Hyperborean Chimaera's clamber in Altum, Etsi Natura nihil agit per Saltum.

The Sun keeps the Self-same Station, And Influences ever since the Creation. The Moon hath the very same Spots in her Face, Ladies black Patches wear to her disgrace. Venus hath always had her Mole, Mercury did ever use to Droll. If the Sky would fall, we should catch Larks, In Gaming-Schools are good store of Sharks.

Hunger-gut Po••tasters, a Crew, Like Dogs lick up Blind Homer's Spew. Antipodes walk Foot to Foot, True, The Devil will be sure to have his Due. The Infallible Three-Footed-Stool, The Witty Tripos is turn'd Fool. Cybels Priests are obscene Rogues and Whores, Bacchus his Salii are turn'd out a Doors.

Alexander's Empire, for all his great Bragments, How quickly it crumbled into Fragments.

While his Captains were a Plotting, His stinking Corps lay above-ground Rotting. And he himself dyed by Potting. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Wild People are seldom 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

Daemons, as Old Sophies clatter, Stick close to, and feed upon Matter. But do they drink Wine or Water? I'de as lieve hear a Magpy Chatter. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Synesius sings, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Pretty Things. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, I'le assure you; Believe it, or I'le ne're endure you.

So Tertullians Mistress said, Who saw Souls, (for she was a Maid,) In all colours and shapes, and was not afraid. I rather think, the Witch betray'd. Averroës tells us Wonders, That Souls are Unities and Numbers. A Colledge of Virtuosi can never display, How the Earth or Sun lay at Anchor a Day; Was it for fear he should run away?

How he curses poor Algazel, For vain Philosophy, to the Pit of Hell. The Mind, he tells him what he lackt, Not the Fancy, should be abstract. Another Blade, all in a Tatter, Made Spirits and Bodies all Matter; This 'tis to shoot 'twixt Wind and Water.

Averroës chides Avicen, In Praedicaments, from One to Ten. There is but one Transcendent Ens, From which all Numbers do commence. I'le assure you, 'tis excellent Sense, For Multitude find Mood and Tense: You may do it without Expence; No Body has hit upon it since.

CANTO IV.

Magi were begot of their Mothers, Mingled together with Sisters and Brothers. Mithridates his Polyphagia and Polypotia, Was True, as St. George of Cappadocia. An Mulier confert ad Generationem? An Purpura confert ad Venerationem? Mulier semper aut amat, aut odit, Nihil tertium costodit; But the best Cheese, Mus corrodit.

Quere, If any Woman kind Were ever Bald before or behind? Quere, What is most mens Delight? Women in Summer have most Appetite. Mulieres Glabrae & Barbatae, Lenones in Procinctû state. Formicae, minùs quàm Mares, Venosae, Anûs Puellis magis Exosae.

Women are most free from Gouts, Yet they sit most pricking of Clouts; But Men have the most tearing Bouts, There never will be an end of Doubts.

Womens Inferna are Crassiora, Womens Superna are Formosiora. In Ʋmbilicis sedet Libido, Aeneam deperiit Dido.

A Senate of Women sate at Rome; But the wisest sort stay'd at Home. They that could no Secrets forbear, Would fainest be in the Confessors Chair. O Pythagoras! O Palaemon! One of you said the World was a Daemon. Partridges, give me leave, The Question is, how they conceive?

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Spidars Lawn, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Second Notions without Sense, Distinctions without sance Difference, So Dunce Doctors commence. Metaphors, Cadences, and Twangs, Make florid Tropical Harangues. Quintilian, Ciceronian styles, Sentences of half Miles, May be leap'd over by Lame Giles. Lypsius had small Command, In short Paragraphs of Sand.

Lana Caprina's not fit for Clothing, Curiously wrought, is good for Nothing. Da veniam aetati, for pregnant Wits, Poets are good at girds and fits. Exceptio confirmat Regulam in non Exceptis, Deceptio confirmat Fraudem in non Deceptis. The Devil is not so black, as he's painted; St. Dunstan is not so white, as he is Sainted.

I fear Sanctified Virgins are tainted, With these I was never acquainted.

Indian Rats pregnant in Dams Bellies, All my delight is in Cock-Broths and Gellies. I presume you'l count me a Fool, For Writing in Burlesque or Ridicule; 'Tis because I could get no better Tool. Satyrs blow hot and cold, Serpents and Eagles are young and old; Women at the Ducking-Stool can Scold.

At the Pope's Bull and Scotch Heifer yoaked, The Devils in Hell are all provoked; Because by them they are like to be choaked. Flectere si nequeo Superos Acheronta movebo, I have Commenc'd at Salamanca and Toledo. Chad eat more Chees an Chaddit, Jack would wipe's Nose if he had it. The Sawce for a Cony is good for a Rabbit; If a good Cause won't dye, I hope a Lawyer can Stab it. I don't like your Murdering Prayers, Or to break my Neck down Stairs.

Scholars must not go to Fairs; Take'um Proctor, Cap'um, pull'um by the Ears; Well rhim'd Tutor, Brains and Stairs. Inter Regem & Tyrannum non discernunt Graeci, Distinguish Antipodes and Antoeci. Alexander's Sword, 'twas no wonder, Cut the Gordian Knot asunder. Blochardus attackt the Castle Enchanted, The Old Capitol was Haunted:

There are Spirits, take it for granted; And Witches too, if Wit be not wanted.

Get me a Pick-lock for the Law, I'le find in Solon, or Lycurgus, a Flaw. I'le solve a Case better than Navar, Till my very Brains do Jar. Old Vlpian, Papinian, Barto••us, Caius Wesembec do but Cajole us.

Do, maintain it with a Brazen Face, Dominion is founded on Grace. O Rare Polla, uxor Polla, Get better Pot Herbs, Mors in olla. Nos numerus sumus, & magno damnamur Atridi, I don't like Fasting upon Friday. Terrae onus, frages consumere Nati, Excellently spoke by Diodati.

Quid vis impunè facere, Regium est, Rebellium in Populo Privilegium est. Mahomet's Horns half Fire, half Snow, Tell me a Tale of a Royston Crow, How, an if this no Body must know?

I long those Janus Faces to discover, That cry one side, and laugh on the other. At this Axiom, Momus Risit, Qui Beneficium accepit Libertatem amisit, Censor Morum, Cato Redivivus, We lack such Confessors to shrive us. Hugh Peters, a Wry-neck'd R••gue, 'Mong all the Traytors his Head carries the Vogue.

I reckon the Stellite••ticks Among the Students Academicks. Tom Triplet and Tom Coriot in Shackles, Were whipt for Ʋniversity Rake hells. Jurisconsultorum Ignoramus, Among the Petifoggers is famous. All's well, that ends well, they say it follows; All's bad, that ends bad, at the Gallows.

Divide the Lions Skin, before he be dead, Give away your Estates, and beg your Bread; Or take a Beetle, and knock you on the Head. A Haltar, or Faggot, chuse you which, If ye have a mind to turn Witch. Hang a Taylor, that can't Stich Upon the Sign of the Dog and Bitch. Our Profession is never Rich, Give a Thief-Hostler a Switch. A lowzy Taylor must dye in a Ditch, Be hang'd or damn'd, choose you which.

I hear the sound upon a Low-string, Mahomet's Doctrine of the Bow-string. The Black Box, the Dwarfs and Mutes, Justice and Honesty con••utes. Are you such Fools ye Rich Bashaws, To be shot at, like Jack-Daws. When you have serv'd a Tyrants Will, Suffer him your Bloods to spill. If you like this Trade so well, Next is to serve a Prentiship in Hell.

Paulus the Praetor was counted a Sot, For taking up a Chamber-Pot,

With that Hand that wore Rings, Engrav'd with Caesars and Kings. Jove would be serv'd by none but Haebe, Young Ganymede and fair Phaebe. Cleombrotus ravisht with a Scrowl, That contain'd the Immortality of the Soul, Had better ta'ne a chirping Bowl,

Velles and Infules, words of Commission, Expressing signs of Submission. Ʋlysses and Ajax mournful Faces, Zeuxis describ'd with full Graces, For Iphigenia, but because his Skill did fail, For Agamemnon he drew a Vail. Alcestus her Husband Admetis reliev'd; By her dying, his death she Repriev'd.

Mecenas and Codrus, the more's the pity, Ventur'd (like Fools) to dye for their City. Marius sacrific'd Calphurnia his Daughter, To the fury of the Cymbrick slaughter, For which he might be call'd Fool ever after. Would you have it try'd by their Peers, Lillies have no Seed, but their Tears. In Elysium you'l meet with good Lull, Cups of Nectar and Ambrosia, always full.

Arithmeticians can exactly probe, How may Corns of Dust will make up the Globe; And how many Grains may be spent, To fill the Concavity up to the Firmament: As Archimedes did the Number of Sands, That stop the Oceans Commands.

The still-Sow eats up all the Draught, The simpring Wench is always Naught. They say, Curst Cows have short Horns. Tender Feet can't tread upon Thorns, He that enters Trophonius's Grotto, Must read the superscribed Motto. Of Lethe and Mnemosyne take each a Cup, Resolve to drink 'um both sheer up.

Resolve to forget all Sorrow; But be sure to be reveng'd to Morrow, And never remember to pay what you borrow. A sort of Fools I may not smother, That choose to dye one for another. Others cast the unlucky Lot, Which of the two must go to the Pot. 'Tis far better and more gain, For Pages to suffer their own Masters Pain.

Others out of pure Civility, For some Friend offer to dye: No body knows the reason why; I'de as lieve they should do so, as I. We understand better things, To kill, rather than to dye for Kings. Such Principles we teach, All we can to over-reach, And yet seem to make no Breach.

To prevent all Mischief still, By doing all manner of Ill, Under pretence of Love and good Will. Learn of us, if you'd be safe, At your best Friend, draw the Dagger Ralph.

Never stand, Shall I, shall I's. The Aggressors make the Sallies, So do the Rogues of the Algier Gallies.

Free Booters all, this is the work Of the Tartar and the Turk. Viis & Modis, do all ye are able To steal the Steed, and shut the Stable; To sink the Ship and cut the Cable. In your Anger, pardon no Man, In your Lust spare no Woman. If like us, you would be wise, Regard no Age, Sex, or Size; If you fear pity, shut your Eyes.

The drinking, damming, roaring Gang, In my Judgment are fitter to Hang; Than to bear any Rule or Command O're sober Men, by Sea or Land. If their rise Hatred among Friends, And you can't handsomly compass your Ends. Come to us, though they look never so big, I'le warrant you, they shall have a Fig. Let us alone to do your Job, Better than openly Kill or Rob.

Hipti, Hopti, Talere Hoo, You shall have one, you shall ha'e two, You shall have what y' have a mind to do. Is not this a pleasant Trade, To ride your Horse to a Jade? You may prove a second Jack Cade. And to be sure to be well paid, 〈…〉〈…〉 never be over-laid.

This is to call a Spade, a Spade, Better than a dull roguing Blade. Get you to a Cunning-Man, He'l conjure for you, all he can, And do more business than Cup and Kan. They be dull Rogues, that Swear and Swagger, And cry, Jemmy, draw thy Dagger; And although they have no Lands, Challenge Cowards to Callis Sands.

These Tricks a Witch understands Better than Questions and Commands: Better than forging Bills or Bonds, Or putting Deeds in Scriveners hands. Never more to be seen, Or to play at King and Queen; Rarely come off, Little Tom Green. This is fair Play above Board, To qualifie a Knight or Lord, As a tender Conscience may well afford.

Oportet Imperatorem mori stantem, Oportet Oratorem mori orantem; Sed melius est amare Amantem. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. States or Common-wealths be gone Praestò, Monarchy's the best Manifesto. Oderint dum metuunt, the Tyrant roars, Keep in Subjection, but destroy not the Boars.

Are my Pains really more or less, For my Companions in Distress? Indeed, if my Friends are at ease, While I suffer, that may please: And they may comfort me the more, When themselves feel no Sore.

But, if all together roar and yell, What comfort is in such a Hell?

My Friends Grief is grown An Addition to mine own. Suffer alone, or if you had rather, Suffer with others, choose you whether. But, if I delight in Strangers groans, As I may do in their Thrones: United Comforts I shall find, Far better than Sorrows combin'd.

Have a care Court-Rats, Of being took by City-Cats. Porphyrogenitus, sweet as Amber. Was begot in the Purple Chamber; To Princes Thrones you must not clamber. India worships the Rising-Sun, America is undone. Asinius Pollio, to a Slave that for Death did cry, Said, Nondum tecum in gratiam redii.

No Statesman est Semper idem, Haud diu servat fortuna fidem. By Moon in Conjunction with Sol sped, Once in a Month a New Moon is bred, 'Tis long since he got her Maiden-head. Of Moon-Rabbits and Pigeons we may have good Cheer, They Litter Thirteen Months in the Year.

When did the Planets or Stars fix so fast, Multiply so, from first to last? We shall not see that Day in haste, They are such Tapers as never waste.

Keeping their Cases in which they were cast, Holding their own in all Ages past. And so they will for ever last, Of Constellations there will be no waste.

The Tartar, when Din'd in mighty State, Sounds a Trumpet at his Gate; To give leave to all Sinners, After him, in good Manners, to take their Dinners. Therefore, if you have but a Brown-Crust, Or be ne're so hungry, eat if you durst; But we'l venture, let him do his worst.

Pinguedinem Ʋrsae deponunt, Eat their Flesh, if you will, I'le ha' none on't. What's Plenilunium Prosobolon? What's an Hospital Triobolon? Podogram curat Cydnus Fluvius, The best Architect was Vitruvius; The best Casuist was Covarruvius. Puellae Venenosae, take heed, For they say, There is such a Breed.

Four-footed Creatures stand most sure, A Red-hair'd Wench I cannot endure. An Ass spake when Romulus and Remus were born, As sure as a Cuckold wears a Horn. If you say, I'm one, I'le take it in Scorn, And challenge you to the Field to morrow Morn. Senectus Animae Propria Aetas, We are most of us Old, I hope you won't eat us.

Sol aurea Gleba, but give me the Ore Of Gold indeed, and I shall never be Poor, Let Sol be what he will, I'le desire no more.

Sepulchral Dogs, Sepulchral Men, I love the Flesh of a Capon or Hen. Stygian Water nothing can hold, But the Hoof of a Hackney-Horse that is old. Figura Triplex of a Voice, Shew me but one, I'le take my Choice,

Many a Man, if you mind him, May be hang'd for leaving his Drink behind him. Bacchus and Silenus dy'd by Quaffing, Zeuxis the Painter dy'd with Laughing. Why do Lovers pray to the Moon? Why do Lubbars lye a Bed till Noon?

Who put on Agamemnon's close-Coat, While Clytemnestra cut his Throat? Who sent Hercules to the Dark, By putting on a poyson'd Sark? Are these such Creatures, by Yea and Nay, As live but the life of one poor Day? Whither, when we have left seeing, We do forthwith slide out of Being.

Genii of Tunicks have need, And Vehicles to carry them with speed. Do you imagine they can bleed; Or on Fumes of Sacrifices feed? Or on nasty Fogs and Steams, In Caverns, unexhaled by Sun-Beams.

The Zabii hold down their Noses, To scent Incense sweeter than Roses. Delight to sit in Witches Laps, And from black Teats suck poysonous Paps.

In what Conditions or Stations, Are Souls fled from their Habitations? Do they retire to other Nations? How shall we send 'um Commendations?

How a Gnat sends forth a Hum, If she sings, Come Pudding come. From her Throat, or from her Bum? An Answer from Socrates must come: So his Podex is a Pipe or a Drum; To the Philosopher give a Hum. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, our drunken Motto, When we Feast in a Sphinges Grotto.

What think you of those Throngs and Crouds Of Goddesses, the Venerable Clouds? They jumble together in Ruts, Like the Grumbling in the Guts. There's Thunder, Rain, Hail and Snow, And Winds, that make Seas overflow. The Experiment is a Paunch, Whence Wind and Dirt flies by the stroke of a Lance.

Chaos, Nubes and Lingua, never fear 'um, Sint Tria Primordia Rerum. No less Man says thus, than Socrates, Wiser than Galen or Hypocrates. Amphyctionick Councels Meet In Thermopylae and Delphos Street. For Love to Souls is their Debate, And to Barbarians for Hate; Methinks they Stalk it in great State.

Areopagus was a famous Court, For the Ostracism Sport.

And at the Old Olympick Games, Met many Proper, Gallant Dames. Champions got Crowns of Bays, Ornaments of Honour and Praise. Ladies conquer'd in the Field, By Knights and Squires, without Sword or Shield.

Why should you Men offer to Castrate us, Eunuchate and Effeminate us. No fear you should Cuckolate us, We shall ne're have Whiskers or Muschato's: But we may be Even with you agen, For Women can make themselves Men. What was the Pathick Sporus, A Rogue that us'd to Jade and Bewhore us, Till he was asham'd to come before us.

Pythagoras abstain'd from Beans; More need to abstain from Rogues and Queens. A Priest may not touch them in Pontificalibus, But in Sacrificiis Penetralibus. Formicae Castratae, Hey Ho, I wonder why it should be so. This is the Reason, I very well know, From us to Boys they are minded to go.

Nay, get you gon with a Vengeance to Beasts, And to Fowls, if you will, when th'have Feather'd their Nests. I do not like such Scornful Jests, To take up our Smocks to hide our Breasts. Candaules boasted of his Fair Wife, Shew'd her naked to the Life, To Gyges, that had the famous Ring, Who Cuckold him for it, like a King; Was there ever such a Thing?

Manus Ridens had no Rings; The Swan dies, if she Sings. Cardan his Body did so Rarisie, When he would, to fall into Aphairesie. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is the Great Year, When Signs in the Zodiack the same appear. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is the Isle of Dogs, Gadaren is the Land of Hogs; But Egypt is the Land of Frogs.

Variety, if you want. For Sallads, take the Sensitive Plant. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Fine, Antistites of Sacra Eleusine. 'Twas a Horrid Effatum, Genitale Membru•• adoratum. Lupercalia 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Rufi Boves, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Is not all this 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

The Cross Bull put Germ inicus to a stand, Refusing a Lock of Hay from his fair Hand. But the Life of Eudoxus Cnidius was bespoke, By the kind Bull's licking his Coat. Nilus Water, with Hony mixt, Plenty and Peace in Egypt fixt.

Gross Vapours stinking, as one could wish, For Daemons will make a rare Dish. Perfumes and Fat are very good Food; But they most delight in Blood. Tho Gods gaping for Altars Smoak, They drink like Flyes, and never choak.

If this Truth any denies, Beelzebub is the God of Flies.

Crocodiles, Goats, Dogs and Cats, All Worship had, with Mice and Rats. Azazel, Bless us, O Palaemon! Must be some extraordinary Daemon. Dii Averruncani, Oromazes, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Aremanes, Lucidi & Tenebrosi, Horridi & Formosi.

Isys, Osyris, are serv'd in State; But Typhon, O Typhon, all Hate: All Harm to all Creatures on him they lay, All Errors of Nature, and all Decay; And from Him, all run away. Typhone multiplicior Bellua, Typhone nullus voracior Helluo. Indians Sacrifice to this Fiend, To pacifie their Foe, and make him their Friend. All the Race of cursed Cham, Are still afraid of Old Sam.

To him they Sacrifice an Ass, The first Trumpeter that ever was; Which the Copti turn'd to Grass. Watery or Fiery Lustrations, Purge the Sins of all Nations. Aegyptian and Assyrian Schemes, Are the dark Chronologers Themes. I might deserve Fortuna Capistri, If I should Jurare in Verba Magistri.

Egypt was once all Waters, Which since hath bred, Wife Sons and Daughters. We are well taught ex Abundanti, Quòd motus non fit in Instanti. ‘ Y' have turn'd me out of my Seven Senses, ‘ And made me wander like the Frenzies. Asini Imperium is fit for Works, Lunati Calcei fit the Turks.

Mulier sine Viro concepta, Nondum satis est correpta. 'Tis truly said, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, And as true, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Woman, the Rib, was made a Dart, And shot the poor Man to the Heart.

Vulcan, the Ancient God of Fire, Is no less than the Sun's own Sire: This Vulcan was a brave Squire, Mars did tame him in his Ire. Res mente existunt, I find, Things are created in the Mind▪ Vulcan, and his Logger-head Dolts, In Aetna's Forge beat Thunderbolts.

CANTO V.

Menes, the first Egyptian King, Mercury his Son, that Witty Thing: From him Fifty two Kings liv'd in Disgrace, In One thousand four hundred years space. Sesostris in State, give him his due, Four Archontes his Chariot drew.

Five hundred years to the Dynasty of Pastors, No Trade, nor War then, nor sad Diasters.

Thebanes, Thinites, Memphit's Names, All of them got Renowned Fames. Saturn was Noah, Hammon, Cham; This, Thoth, Thanes (Trim, Tram.) Apis, Isys, Osyris, Adonis, Infinite sorts of Tories, and Tonies. Deities for Numbers, Even or Od, Every Attribute was a God.

Not so much 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Right, As 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 in Sight. Three hundred Joves, Varro makes; These were Popular Mistakes. Aegyptian Hieroglyphicks, Some were Hierogrammaticks: Others Hierophylacticks, Belong these to Opticks or Tacticks?

Of these, some were Curiologicks, For Elements or Signs, Symbolicks. Hence Monstrosa simulachra came, Jupiter wore the Head of a Ram. So Alexander would be painted, Because he had a mind to be Sainted; So came Men with Gods acquainted.

Mercurius's Figure, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Audacis, Cause Nihil est, Cane sagacius. All Gods from Egypt crept into Greece, And there they got the Golden Fleece.

Pluto got the Chief 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, The best is 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Medicines and Architectures, Were Egyptian Projectures.

Gypsies, Egyptians to this day, Are Prophets and Doctors, given that way. Egypt's the old Nurse of all Parts, Of Magick and Syderial Arts. The Spawn of wandring Prophets tell Fortunes, look to your Pockets well.

You need not light so many Tapers, Stone and Wood Statues cut no C••pers, They'l never fight at Swords and Rapiers. Nec Dii indigent Lumi••e, Pisces semper natant Flumine: Nec homines carent Fuligine, Gold and Silver's eat up with Rubigine. Sues coëunt Lun•• Decrescente, The Masters agree, from One to Twenty.

Lens Luctum praesagit, you must be Beat, If you presume any Beans to eat. Lavare, Jejunare & esse in Casto, Are Preparatives in Fasto. Proper for sober Sacrificantes, Flamines, Jerophantes; Not for mad Salii Corybantes.

‘ Don't disturb my poor weak Senses; ‘ If I should lack Wit, I lack Expences. Odors, stinking and fragrant, For Spirits fixt, and Spirits vagrant.

For Spirits fat, and Spirits lean, For Spirits foul, and Spirits clean. But be sure, you nor see, nor touch a Bean; From that Food I must you wean.

Sound operates either by Fright, Creating Horror or Delight: Some by Day and some by Night, Some play Bo-peep least in Sight. Some Devils are very shy; Some are fearful, roar and cry, And they say, some Spirits dye.

Physian Fields are aloft in the Moon, The Sophister was up too soon. Pythagoras saw Hesiod's Soul ty'd To Brass-Pillars, wept and cry'd; For fear like a new married Bride, That had nothing to lose, beside Her Maiden-head, which she could not hide. And truly never was deny'd; The Maid was willing, when she try'd,

Homer's Soul hung all upon Trees, With Serpents stinging worse than Bees, For blasting the Gods and Goddesses. 'Tis too true, I'le tell you but so, Omnia plena Animarum & Dearum too. For the best Transmigrations ne're Quarrel, 'Tis either into a Lion or a Lawrel; Why not so well into a Hogshead, or Barrel?

Souls for a year are thrown into Tartar, And come out thence most pure ever after.

I'm not able to forbear Laughter, Tho I had there a Son or a Daughter. Me thinks I see the poor Creatures lying, Like Herrings upon Gridirons frying; Never dead, but always dying. This was the Purgatory of Plato, A wiser Man than e're was Cato.

Dodona's Golden, speaking Grove, With Memnon's speaking-Stone strove: I wonder how such Talk may prove, Matters of State, or Matters of Love. Fables of C••esias are full as Evil, As those of Sir John Mandevill. The Murosites, volunt, nolunt, Mures & Sorices colunt.

Amasis took Cyprus by force of Arms, Marcht with the Gods to serve for Charms, To keep them from their Enemies Harms. And to make his Souldiers Valiants, Never to yield, nor lose their God Gallants. At Athens, by Pythia's Charge, Lustration was to be made at Large. All the White and Black Sheep, Brought to Areopagus to keep.

From thence let loose, where they begin to Falter, And couch for Rest, there build an Altar. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, in every Street, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, where ever they meet. Thales Miletus, Pittacus Mytilenus, Solon Atheniensis, Bias Prieneus, Cleobulus Lynda, Myson Chereus.

Chilon Lacedemonius: These, (Kiss my Britch,) were the Seven Wise Men of Greece.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, As wise as ever spake Sagan. Sentences in Apollo's Temple wrote, Forsooth, lest they should be forgot. Of Sorrows, some are Fat, some Lean, 'Twixt both, Jack and Gill lick the Platter clean. Hang Care, Cast away Sorrow, Eat, Drink and Play, and Dye to Morrow.

Eat Plover, Carp, Partridge and Pheasant, A short Life and a Pleasant. ‘ My Muse is turn'd all Witch, ‘ And Barks the Language of a Bitch. The Sybils were the wisest Crew, Of all the Witches, I ever knew, All their Prophecies were True. Augurs and Magi to them were but Asses, And so were (Whores all) the Vestal Lasses.

Clouds were the best Goddesses of Wonder, 'Tis they that Rain, Hail, Snow and Thunder. The most can be said, i•• that Jove Pisses, And shoots Bolts, but often misses. Wonder not we are so on Mischief bent, For we are all by the Devil sent. We are in League with him by Blood, Never to do any Good; Always in a mad Mood.

The Stoicks are much of our kind, For Envy and Malice of Mind.

The Cynick is a Surly Cur, He Bays and Bites at every Flur. ‘ We must do Mischief, so we must, ‘ Be Revenged, though we burst. ‘ Pray consider, we kill Pigs, ‘ If you'l eat 'um, we'l dance Jiggs, ‘ Feast all the Tories and Whigs.

CANTO VI.

There's a more Subtil, damned Crew, That never yet gave man his Due. Spare no Man that dares them Trust, Nor no Woman in their Lust; If you confide, dye you must. These have given the Devil a Fee, And serve him, as much as we. Nor do we for Excuses plead, We know we are a Hellish Breed; Of both, let Honest men take heed.

Undermining Rogues and Whores, Fit to be kickt out of Honest mens Doors. Sophisters for contrary Votes, Ready to cut one anothers Throats. Agoniae nulla Causa Sapienti, Turn us back to As in Praesenti. Alexander, because his Mis dy'd, Burnt Esculapius's Temple Pride: Himself of his Lust he never deny'd.

Why should Histrios be Rogues and Whores, When maintain'd by Publick Stores?

Senators in Theatres had Seats, To behold therein Pleasant Feats. Nothing's more flexible than the Soul, Every way to turn and roul. A liberal Soul is free and Raptive, And can never be taken Captive.

Cartez painted her exact Feature, By calling her a Thinking Creature. O, 'twas a most Rare Expression! Brave Boy! take out another Lesson. Benè agere, Regium est, & malè audire, For these Antisthenes I admire ye. Thus we pick up rotten Rags, And patch 'um up to cloath our Hags.

The Valiant Wrestler chose rather to dye, Than leave the Stage, or his Virility. The Body's a Slave à Potentiori, Argumentum à Fortiori. The blind Will admits no Reins; Dunces will take no pains. Drones shall get no gains, A new Cloth has no stains.

Our Bodies are refined Clay; 'There they have claw'd it away, 'Tis such stuff as the Asses Bray. Thus I trifle away the Time, In making many a simple Rhime. 'Tis the Philosophers Crime; O, they are all in their Prime.

Aristippus hates all Cynicks; We Witches love all Clynicks. I am not pleased with Epicurus, Because his Sect could ne're endure us. He forbad us to get Brats, Or bear Offices, worse than Dogs and Cats. He places all Honesty in Opinion; But hang him, he lov'd his Minion.

He says, the Gods for Men took no Care; How then, I pray, shall Women Fare? Lacedemonians were Lions at home, Ephesians Foxes: There's no room For Witches in these two Nations; Who can like such cross Perswasions. Morbus est pars vitae, ut Ambulatio; A Rare Sentence! & Navigatio.

Women are Common, say you so, No Man then can his own Wife can know. Omnes inviti peccant, O Will! Then we are all Innocent still. Opus Philosophi abjicere Opinionem, Opus Fallacis denegare Nomon. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, One of these two takes away Sin. But tell me when I must begin, Or I shall have no power to Spin.

Men by Reason are as good as the Gods; How then came there to be such odds? A Slave in mind, though manumitted, Is ever for a Slave fitted; Who ever was better Witted?

Socrates never changed his Face, And never mended his Pace, And did all things with a Grace: I'm sure he came of a bold Race.

A Numen promised him, to defend Whomsoever he should Reprehend. Of every thing there are two Handles; O, for Joy sight up all the Candles! I marry, Epictetus, you have hit it, This Invective desires to be Spitted, Roasted, and larded with precious Sawce, And serv'd up for Kings with great Applause.

To please Harlots, all over shave; But how'l ye do to please a Knave? He'l ne're rest, but in his Grave; Good speed thither may they all have. The Blews that in the Sky we see, Are they not Waters, like the Sea? Aegyptians were all Physians, The Greeks all Dancers or Musicians. The Persians all Magicians, How of different Dispositions?

Xantippe was a plaguy Scold; The Reason, Socrates was Old. Wise men prostituted their Wives, Cuckolds all lead pleasant Lives. Aristippus on the Ground Dionysius would Greet, Because his Ears were in his Feet. Who but a Philosopher could so have hitted, Others are over, but under-witted.

Archytas, forsooth invented the Cube, And why not find out the Longitude? Beans were upon rare Grounds forbidden, Because they resembled Secrets hidden; They that eat them deserve to be chidden: Or because they represented Hell Gates, Which none dare bar up, but the Fates. These are Arguments at strange Rates, I hope they will not scruple at Dates.

CANTO VII.

‘ They say, a Womans red-Rag is well hung; ‘ But this is the dullest Muse that e're spake with a Tongue. ‘ For my part, hitherto the Song is well sung, ‘ And I'le Rake no more in this nasty Dung. ‘ I'le see 'um hang'd or damn'd, before ‘ I'le trouble my self with the Sophies any more. ‘ This kind of Hotch-potch-Stuff, ‘ Is for Country Bumkins, rough and enough.

‘ Because my Muse is so damnable Dull, ‘ I'le turn her off, and take another, so I wull. ‘ Still a Womans Tongue is nimble, ‘ As a Taylors Needle and Thimble: ‘ If it be, Mine has had so many Twinges. ‘ That 'tis almost off the Hinges. ‘ If I had once done with these sad Wights, ‘ My Wits could soon come again to Rights.

Where the Soul lodges, 'tis an Art, In the Metropolis of Head or Heart?

What is the Matter of the Sphaeres, Solid or Fluid, ask the Bears? If with Daemons we be acquainted, 'Tis a rare thing to be Sainted. You see how Constellations are Painted, Wise men with Toys are too much Tainted.

Cartez Glandula hangs in the Brain, The Fancy of a Dull Swain, All Figures it doth entertain. But it proves Labour in vain, To see how they go and come again, And put the poor Noddle to pain; There's no room for the King of Spain. ‘ If I fall more into the Philosopher's Lot, ‘ 'Tis the right way to be a Dunce or Sot, ‘ As they must be that love the Pot.

The great Spirit hight 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Will never turn into Carrion, The Circle by a Point of Steel, Turns round the Center, like a Wheel. Take heed, for you may Evade it, Definitum in Definitionem non ••adit. This Notion came by Inspiration, Old Bald-pate Time is a Duration.

A Wise-man may wish his Body of Limbs bereft, That his Soul may be in all the rest that are left. The Stoicks Drop, no bigger than a Pea, Prov'd equal with the Ocean Sea. Gemmae, Lapilli, & Terrae Minutales, Are Philosophick Mysteries Capitales.

The lesser the Body, the lesser the Space, The most Wit is in the least Place. Let all these come Face to Face, Before 'um I'le carry the Mace.

Protagoras found out this Treasure, Man is of all things the True Measure. Many things were invented for Pleasure, Especially by Idle-heads, that had leisure. Jerom ground his Teeth, 'tis a Jeer, To teach him speak Oriental Tongues cleer. Timaeus in Wit did abound, Calling the Intellect, a Circle Round.

He made the Insects all Spirits, Who shall reward him for his Merits? An Indivisible is more than a Point, To roast an Ox, is more than a Joynt, To drink up a Gallon, is more than a Pint. These are such Artists as never were, Cut a Feather, split a Hair: Hit a Bird flying, Make an Eel long a dying, Tho she be flaw'd, Roasting or Frying; Take a Graecian always Lying.

To Turn and Tune Orbs, the Intelligences Take pains, but are at no Expences, Indivisibles may be numbred, ‘ Think how my Idle Pate's encombred, ‘ How long in Dreaming have I slumbred? Phantasms are the Souls Clouds, Matter is the Daemons Vehicles and Shrowds.

Scaliger's Subtilty, I know what he did lack, Turn'd him often upon his Back; Poor Man wanted a Cup of Sack.

A Point Mathematical wants Parts, Other Points may be divided by Arts, Turn up the Knave of Clubs, or Ace of Harts. Philosophers, a Devil choak 'um, Say Lumen non habet Locum. They have all Wit at Command, But they play basely under-hand; I'le never trust 'um by Sea or Land.

Philoponus was kind to Materia Prima, Gave it a Form, a Summo ad Ima. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Upon every Lye you Intrude us. Did Algazel make a Bull, Calling Matter, the Moon at the Full? Mathematicians and Melancholicks, Resemble Wizards for their Frolicks.

Rowze up, if you be all in a Slumber, For Multitude is more than Number. Moschus, the Phoenix-Inventor of Atoms, Made the Danaides Tubs without Bottoms. Arithmeticians, take it for no Disgrace, If Numbers reckoned in no Place. Nescio's a Word of an Ingenuous Mind, Candid, when the Truth you can't find.

Would you think it, fair Lady Maia, That e're Orpheus interpreted Isaiah.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Aratus agrees with Virgil's Contilena, Both held, Jovis omnia Plena. Pliny speaks very Cunningly, Of all the Properties of a Flea.

So did Aristaphanes too, Abuse Socrates, having less to do, Three hundred and eighty Words, says Petron, In form of a Triangular 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. ‘ Would you think it, Brave Boys. ‘ Wise-men should ever invent such Toys? Ask Queen Mab, or King Oberon, What means the Stoicks 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

Tell me, or you shall be suspended, Whither Spirits be Extended? How wise Apuleius was, With his Philosophick Ass? A Dream put Aristotle out of Breath, A Meteor, he call'd it, 'twixt Life and Death. An Quid sit Frustrà, an Datur Vacuum? Fill the Pot Eedy, Supernaculum, A Blazing Star's a Rare Spectaculum.

Take off your Cups, for so we Read it, Os Homini Sublime Dedit. Anima Tota in Toto, sed quâ Arte? Et Tota in qualibet Parte. Cut off a Leg or an Arm, And it shall do the Soul no Harm. Because it is such an Elf, As can shrink into its Self.

Sensûs Communis Quaenam est Ratio? An datur Corporum Procreatio? Porphyrius was out of his Senses, In Copulation with th' Intelligences. Avennazar the Arabian Fool, Was taught with him in the same School. ‘ Now rise up Bungy, rouze up Towzer, ‘ And at 'um, for here comes many a Rowzer.

Timochus, after Socrates his Master dy'd, Affected his Daemon out of Pride. Went down into Tryphonius's Den, Two Nights and a Day, and came home agen. What he dream'd, he saw and heard, Of Souls, he was not at all afeard. Some Souls were sunk whole in Voluptuous Sense, Others but half-way did dispense.

The like Fancies did Scipio Dream, Not half so good as Curds and Cream. Souls now and then it seems did scramble, 'Mong Stars and Planets had a mind to Ramble. Penetratio Corporum is mighty Proud, For highest Rooms to thrust and crow'd. Tell me how more Matter is in a handful of Clay, Than in two of Water, which manner of way?

In those Extra-Mundane Spaces, How Intelligences take Places. Spatium in Mundo, non Mundus in Spatio, It is good Rhime, but Quaenam est Ratio? Let all your Disputes alone, There can be no more Worlds than One. Thus all together upon one Tree, Several Fruits you seldom see.

‘ Shew me another Congregation, ‘ Besides ours, of the same Perswasion: ‘ When you in Wickedness agree, ‘ So well as do Hell and We. ‘ Fewer Witches there need to be, ‘ And fewer Daemons you will see. ‘ Tyburn and every Gallow-Tree, ‘ Will far less frequented be.

Now break up their Quarters, the Rogues have a Hogo, They're almost choakt in Terrâ del Fogo. Cicero, ycleped Tullius, Came short of the Wit of Raymundus Lullius: Who travell'd with Alsted all the Round Way Of Sciences Encyclopaedia. The rest like Block-heads made a stay, And for fear of more Work, ran all away.

At the North-Pole 'twill be made to appear, That Whales are cheap, and Sprats be dear: Dogs are dumb to us, and squat on their Britch, A Blood-hound never yet Sented a Witch. Aristotle's Brass-Bowl, Hercules Tub, Plato's Couch and Carpets, Diogenes Tub. Chairs, Lamps, Desks, Pillows of Learned Swains, Are excellent Reliques worth precious Gains; But still he shall be wisest that takes the most Pains.

Every Crab, Shrimps, Cockels and Oysters, Like Friars and Monks are shut up in Cloysters, Till they're turn'd cut by Tyrannical Roysters. 'Tis a deep saying of Horatio, Ratio est Consultatio.

Idem per Idem in Circle Round, Mean while the plain Truth lies under-ground, And, for want of right searching, can ne'r be found.

A Diaphanous, Ob••lous, Globulous Glass, Representing whatever was; Hangs in the Center of the Brain, To which all Species flock amain, Skipping and Running to and again. A pitiful Whimsical Fancy, Alas, If another had said it, he had been an Ass. Sun Flashes, Stars Dart, Moon Spits, Mortals be careful to keep in your Wits.

Demonstrations à Priore & Posteriore, A Majore & Minore. Every way Before and Behind; But you must be sure your Business mind, I'le not give you a Do••t for all you shall find. This will be all you can Poposcere, Scire est per Causas Cognoscere.

Would you be healthy, I'le offer you fair, Bottles of Epsam or Bury Air. Have you a mind for your Recreation, Learn Aeris Ferramination; Use no Motion, keep your Station. Bel's Statue could Drink and Eat, Apollo's us'd to Weep and Sweat; Some cunning Rogue 'twas that acted the Cheat.

'Twas a good Ox that needed no Cord, But came to the Altar of his own Accord. A Hen chang'd to a Cock, and a Cock to a Hen; Men to Women, and Women to Men.

A Flying-Stone was a fine Sight; A finer to see Mountains Fight: But the finest Sight that ever was, To see a Bull leap a Cow of Brass.

Borrax of late I am told, A way to ferruminate Silver and Gold. Tycho Brache walked about in Landaff, With an Astronomick Ring, and a Jacob's Staff. At first making Laws they us'd to sing, When publisht, why should not the Bells ring. Did ye never hear of Flesh in Trees, To feed poor Commonwealths of Bees.

The Hunting of Grashoppers is as True, As is their feeding upon Dew; A Lawyer's in Heaven, Cry Fish New, New. Corpus Diaphanum & Ʋmbrosum, Venenosum & Ca••averosum, Serpens Formicis Exosum. Man was ever a Thinking Creature; But Woman hath the lovelier Feature.

Venus venustatem depopulatur, A Devil is a mixture of Monky and Satyr. Bacchus is a Lust-Provocator, Hercules a damnable Propagator. Primi Concubitûs semper Poenitet, 'Tis easie to ride on a Spanish Gennet. Once is enough of a Pocky 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Whore; Hang her Jade, shut her out of Door.

Solus Gallus post Coitum ••antat, Solus Philosophus Hominem plantat.

Elephants are never seen in Copulation, Nor Pigmies in any Nation. Ask Dyctys Cretensis, or Cebetis Tabulae, At Thebes or Athens, are they not Fabulae? Drunkards may soak huge Gobbets of Wine, For Crater is made a Celestial Sign.

CANTO VIII.

Alma Mater Cantabrigia, Lucis & Poculi Privilegia. Sparkling Lights and Cups Brimmers, Nothing is too good for Sinners. Fresh-men take no care for Dinners, At Cards or Tables you shall be Winners. There's your Pipe and your Pot-Scholar; Score up Hostess, till it comes to a Dollar.

Oxonium bears a Crown and Book; But where's the good Liquor, you may go look, For this your Alma Mater no care took. Cambridge is the best Nurse, Oxford may her Pupils Curse; Neither of these have a full Purse. Come light your Pipe, and crown your Bowls, Both together revives sad Souls. Rich Scholar, if thus arm'd, ne're fear To stem the Fen-Baeotick Air, You may come to be Doctor of the Chair.

The Sun's the greatest Soaker, and shrowds His Red-face under a Mask of Clouds. The Large Goblet holds rare Wine, 'Tis that cheers this Heart of mine.

It makes an Old Woman dance, and a Cat speaks, And the Nine Muses to do Feats; True Scholars are seldom Cheats. At high Learning poor People are Wonderers, But all Doctors are not Conjurers, No more than all Orators are Thunderers.

In Right-hand she holds a brave lusty Bowl, And that will rejoyce a Scholar's Soul. 'Tis still supplied by Celestial Drops; Take 'um off still as fast as Hops. In Left-hand she grasps the Noble Sun, The Proctor comes, Run Scholars, run.

The Sun is your Friend, and his glorious Rays Will fill you with Learning, and crown you with Bays. You'l ne're mend your Self all your days, These are the most Refined ways. Oxford the Book does disclose, Cambridge affords you the lusty Dose, That will give you a Jolly Red Nose.

Our Mothers Breasts are always full, When drowzy in her Lap we may Lull. Oxford is a Thrifty Ant, Cambridge, our Mother, will ne're see us want. Our Mum is naked, all in her Hair; But she is always plump and fair.

The Gold Cup always overflows, I speak this under the Rose. We'l sing old Rose, and more, We'l Caper and make the Welkin roar.

Like Ʋlysses, hang up every dirty Whore, That treads upon the Colledge Floor; Porter, keep 'um from the Door.

She ever was a Pleasant Dame, My Aunt was always of great Fame. But oh, the Sun Brews generous Wine, Which makes Cambridge Wits so Fine, She's sure to have this Heart of Mine. O she's more dearer than the Muses Nine, And shall be as long as the Sun doth shine.

O 'tis Large, our Mothers Cup, And full of Nectar, drink all up. Suck your Mothers swelling Paps, And sit in your Sisters Laps: But cast not off your Fudling-Caps, And have a care of After-claps. Her Breasts are always full and dropping, There's Milk and Wine for you to Sop in. Still the good Liquor runs in my mind, Which makes Sophisters always kind.

They say, Oxford's given to Conjure, For that I and they should ne're be asunder. But as long as Cambridge good Liquor lasts, There I'le stick, and take my Repasts. This runs most in my mind, To Scholars Women should be kind. Oxford hath a Theatre, but where are the Actors? Send to Cambridge for Wits Factors.

A Brazen-Head was intended to Speak, And Prophecy, at the Devils Arse of Peak.

But more than this, all England was, To be wall'd in with Hills of Brass. To save spilling of English Blood, We may burn then all our Walls of Wood. Frier Bacon was an Oxford Gull, Tell me a Tale of a Cock and a Bull.

Cambridge, thou Mistress of all Arts, The World admires thy Childrens Parts. Because of thy dear Caresses, The Learned to thee make Addresses. Indulgent Mother to thy Sisters Seed, Both honoured by a Princely Breed. Both furnish all the World with Noble Stems, More precious than Indian Gold or Gems.

Thou stretchest out thy Arms to embrace, And kissest with a Smiling Face: And to secure us every Hour, On thy Head thou wearest a Tower. Here Venus and Mars close in Conjunction, Maintain and defend a Scholars Function.

A Towred-Head without Pain, Must needs have a very strong Brain, All solid Learning to contain. Lawyers, you want this strong Pallisado, You ne're knew a Doctor turn Renegado. To make sure, lest our Wits should falter, The Cup's a Libamen at the Altar.

'Tis better than the Muses Nine, For they all love Wine: And by the Cup they may Divine, To this my Heart does much incline.

Barbary Gold is most fine, With this a man may Sup and Dine; And quite leap over Trent and Tine, Dear Cambridge, I am ever Thine!

Mark, Scholars Cambridge Cup is Gold, Call for a Reckoning, to be pawn'd or sold. To play such Tricks you may be bold, And then your Hostess will not scold. If you chance to be put to't tuff, There's Meat and Drink, and Mony enough. Sea-men in Storms can Stem or Luff, All this while you are Reckoning Proof.

How well does a lusty Bowl become A Scholar, when his Act is done? A good Omen to Dispute under the Sun. Sophister's Heat in wrangling we see; But a comly Cup makes 'um agree. Our Mum has prepared a kind Dole, To comfort her Sons when they come from School. Who can choose but love such a Mother? We shall never find such another. It is the Fashion of all Nations, To solace themselves after hard Disputations; How can this be done without good Collations?

Beat a Point of War for the King, Master Drummer, At the Fresh-man's Feast fill 'um a Rummer. Come along good Master Vicar, In all your life you ne're drank better Liquor. Down with it, let it lie to your heart next, 'Tis for your purpose, called Tear-Text. Never fear a Jolly supply From the dropping Clouds, hard by.

The Cup full of the Rarest Wine, Is that by which Scholars Divine. As long as we have such Juyce, leave wandering, Ne're go to Oxford to learn Conjuring. Beadle call a Congregation, The Cup must go round in Convocation.

Squire Beadles, you have always brave Fees, For Batchelors, Masters, and Doctors Degrees. When the Wine is commonly drawn from the Lees, And there's brave Hony among the Bees. Besides many a rare Collation, When the Ʋniversity Cup goes in Perambulation. Which is a Scholar's great Probation, Among the Learned Generation; 'Tis highly advancing to Contemplation.

Scholars are still the best natur'd Blades, Exceeding all other Mysteries and Trades; And commonly best beloved by Maids. The Muses are Wet-Nurses, And Apollo soaks your Purses. Scholars, though of different Arts, 'Gainst all Mechanicks take one anothers Parts.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. The Clark is envied by the Sexton. Wizard and Witch are Sister and Brother, Never envy one another. This Juyce I cannot but admire, Brew'd by the Sun's Celestial Fire. Culinary Coals make Drink for Fools; But this for Purple Doctors of the Schools.

The Golden Cup, and glorious Sun, Replenish many a stately Tun. Therefore our Wits must needs be Fine, Furnished with such a Magazine. This is our Theatre and School, Oraculous more than Delphos Stool.

Oxford, I leave thee and thy Sons, To quaff in Vintners and Tapsters Tuns. And then to satisfie your paltry Duns, Kick 'um down Stairs, put 'um all to the Runs, Send after 'um a brace of Pot Guns.

CANTO IX.

Quere, If Toad-stools be Plants? Quere, If Flora ben't one of mine Aunts? Generatio non est ab Idaeis, Gentes non miscent cum Judaeis. Homo est Arbor Inversa, Est Res valdè Controversa. Ignis datur Inexstinguibilis, Pontifex-praesumitur Infallibilis.

Phago and Clodios were Platter-Scowrers, Marriot and Wood were the greatest Devourers. We us'd a Roguish Trick full bold, To make Wives hot, and Husbands cold. Priapism or Frigidity, Come by Jealousie or Timidity. From hence sprang Cuckolds new and old, So many as can ne're be told; Poor Creatures, meerly bought and sold.

The poor Greek Slave with aking Heart, Chain'd to the Mill, sang a doleful Part. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Grind Mill, grind, for Pittacus unkind, As we by woful Experience find, The famous Mytilenians doth Grind.

Virgil told an Egregious Lye, That Dido did for Aeneas dye: When 'twixt him and the Tyrian Queen, A Hundred years did Intervene. Nor did Aeneas to Africk come, But fled an Exile to Latium. Campana Sacra Sponte Tinnit, Aliquando Equus Pictus Hinnit, There must be more than ordinary in it.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, by Romes Ladies, Omnia Graecè, To our Dames now French is as easie; Concumbunt Graecè, if that will please ye. If not, 'tis a bon Fashion, To borrow the Pox from every Nation. No Fashion can be a Load, The Reins may run, à la Mode.

Within a place call'd Pluto's Cave, Is bred many an Ignorant Slave; But there is never a Witch or Knave. Indians have neither Arts nor Letters, But they all Reverence their Betters. In Greece Learning most did spring, But no true love to Prince nor King:

All Frauds and Lyes, and crafty Feats, Perjury, and all sorts of Cheats. The plainest Natures are the best, There's little Truth in all the rest.

Were I not what I am, I would be Just; But as I am, be Cruel I must. Yet I condemn that which I hate, And praise every True hearted Mate. Right from Wrong I do distinguish, But still the Right I do relinquish. Devils and Witches are both of a condition, And undergo the same suspicion.

We prompt Mortals to be base, To bring them to our Cursed case. To be Companions in Sin and Woe, Is the best Remedy we know: Therefore we corrupt High and Low, Strive to bring all to our Bow. This is the best course we can take, For all together to Merry make.

Lanificii Causa fuit Sediti••o, Est Principii Petitio. Lightning, Thunderbolts and Stones, Consume Marrow, and break Bones. To abrogate Laws you must not hope, Till you come to move for't with Neck in Rope. The Soul of the World, above and beneath, When was it ever heard so much as to breath?

Odores, they say, are tot, quot Sapores; But who can Cant all the sorts of Amores.

Go, enquire farther at the Isles of Azores, Or else to be sure, at Corvos and Flores. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Did ye never mind how Sol Fumat, And more often how Luna Despumat. They're both drunk with Vapors and Fumes, Cleer the Air with Winds and Perfumes.

Oleo, they say, Mare Turbatur, Et Oleo Mare Tranquillatur. A Cobler is a good Translator, Search in the large Maps of Mercator. Mariners, Merchants, if you please, When you go to Sea, carry good store of Ease. But of late better Medicines swim all in a Lunch, To lay Storms, Infuse them in a Bowl of Punch. Is the Sea Common and for all Free, Or must some be forc'd to lie by the Lee.

Some may better steal an Ox, than others a Lamb, Come aloft Jackanapes with a Whim Wham. Hiccius, Doxius, Hocus, Pocus, John a Styles, or John an Okus. Some may better steal a Horse, or take a Pledge, Than others can look over a Hedge; Set a blunt Razor an Edge. Down with the Woods on both Cheeks, Dress fine, and play with us at Barly-Breaks.

Some have the Poor, some Pandora's Box, Feed poor Slaves with Bits and Knocks. Split your Ships on Shelves and Rocks, Frequent the Stews, and get the Pox.

Stellae pascuntur Humoribus, Vulgus impletur Rumoribus. The Beggars stand prae foribus, Pigme give way, Cede Majoribus.

Succulae Stellae, when will they be Wean'd? When will the Common-Shore be Clean'd? Moon, Moon, all Hail to Thee, Tell me who my Husband shall be, By the Doctrine of Triangles, or Rule of Three? Tell me, if Mushrooms be Plants? If Magpies or Partridges feed upon Ants? There comes a Lion, my Heart pants, Beware of false Bonds and Counterfeit Grants; A cheating Scrivener never custom wants.

Venus vix tangit Occupatos, Carriots are not half so good as Potato's. Tell me Friar Campanella, Which is Tramontana Stella? Tell me, what is Deceptio Visûs, Or what is Sardonicus Risus? What Creature's that, that never Pisses, And what Serpent that never Hisses, And what projector always Misses?

There are those that live by Smells, There are those that believe no Hells. How do Angels understand one another, Who did the false Oracles smother? Ars Longa, Vita Brevis, Durus Labor, Cura Levis; A Giant strong, Southampton Bevis. Stop Rivers, Winds and Tides, Take Garters and Shoe-strings from the Brides.

Be chaste, as Lucretia, Ladies kind, A Lustful Tarquin you shall find. O poor Clients, have a care, Justice is sold as Publick Ware; London is a great Fare. It will Irritare Crabrones, To discover Nocturnal Religiones; When the Candles are out, they Bill like Pigeons.

He that carries a Calf, will carry a Bull, It was the Practise of an old Trull. Vinum Opinionem parit certum Amorem, Vinum Cos habet Saporem, Odorem, & Colorem. Beauty, Wisdom, and Riches to spare, Make a Composition most Rare, A Looking-Glass Boys, for Ordure and Lotium, Ganimede's Tapster at Plato's Symposium. He'l tell you Tales, that's as Drunk as an Ass, Therefore, in Vino veritas.

Does the Soul fall in Tropick Cancer, Or rise in Capricorn? I stay for an Answer. Describe a Lion by his Claw, Measure Hercules by his Paw. What think you of a Tell-tale Daw, Who can keep the Turk in Aw. Has the Soul Wings? Answer me to these Idle Things.

Such Stuff as our Grave Sophies bring, Burn 'um well, 'till they cry, Save the King. Old Asiatick Pride, Was more than all the World beside: But now this Proverb is denied, In Europe swells the highest Tide.

And there our Practise lies most, And there we chiefly rule the Rost; Thither we flock, 'tis the Richest Coast.

There's a private Hole or Vent, In the corner of the Firmament; To keep out Air, tight and snug, Carefully stopt with a Leaden Plug: To this blind Cell Jove oft comes groaping, When weary, leaves the Gods a Tooping, Having from his Companions stole, He opes this peeping, listning Hole.

There hearkens t'ev'ry Mortals Voice; How some condole, and some rejoyce. The Subject of every Theme, How they bless, curse, and blaspheme. One cries for War, another for Peace, Others for Power, Riches, and Ease: Every one for what they please, In Health, Pain, or Disease.

Some for Fair Weather, Some for Foul, Sometimes Sing, and sometimes Howl. When he hath tir'd his patient Ears, With contrary Vows and Fears; He fairly puts the Plug in's place. Returns to his Companions apace: Forgetting all business and care, Leaves all to Fate's well or ill Fare.

'Tis brave for us, when ev'ry Soul We have s••ch Freedom to controul: Never regards the Tears or cries Of Wretches, tho they Sacrifice.

In vain the Heavens with Groans are rent, Hecatombs, and Incense spent: His heart does not the least resent, At any Offering, Bribe, or Complement.

No Troubles are by him regarded, Nor any Services rewarded. Let Mortals shift, every Man, And take their Fortunes as they can. Thus he makes it his Recreation, To let all run at Random in this fashion. The World's well govern'd, all this while, The rest o'th' Gods can't choose but smile.

Where there's much Variety Of Questions, there's told many a Lye; 'Tis best to give 'um the Go by. Of what Order, if there be any, Are Questionarii & Curtesani?

Quindecemviri of the Coram. Augurs as good as e're came before 'um. Of our Profession, none so good To tell Stories of Robin Hood. These are our Collegues and Brothers, Vestals are our Sisters and Mothers; We delight in Rogues and Whores above others.

Tell us if Phoenicians were greatest Traders, Or Goths and Vandals the greatest Invaders? At Plato his Symposium, Did the best Sophies come? Where Hercules Pillars stand? Remov'd into the American Strand.

Where or how, when or which way, Supreme Power in the People lay? How the cunning Tribunes got it; Or to whom they did allot it? If the Senate had forgot it, If the Commons were not besotted?

It put the Emperors out of breath, To get the Power of Life and Death. Whither the Roman State were Fools, To be governed by Edge Tools? The Greeks and Romans by stealth, Drove most to a Commonwealth. May all the Eastern Folk well fare, For they their Princes love and fear.

Why the Athenian Minerva chose The Owls, rather than the Tatling Crows? Because these howling Birds of Night Conceal Mysteries, play Least in sight: The other Gossips fly about, Tell Tales too much among the Rout. Tongues ne'rely still, never give out, Till they be cut quite out.

If Camelions live by the Air, How does it with the Salamander fare? The Ostridge digests Iron and Stones, Just as the greedy Dogs do Bones. Where are the Fragments of the Ark? Mars met with Venus in the dark. Find me out Constantine's Donation? What's the Grand Signior's Occupation?

Shew me the Original of Lex Regia? And of the Peoples Privilegia? Who drew the Charter of the People? Who laid the first Stone of Paul's Steeple? The Thunder thumping Claps are Ominous, That Roar in Homer's 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. And the huge Noise breaks all the Glasses, Of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Frighted all the Lads and Lasses, Sunk all the Galliots and Galliasses.

'Tis a true Rule, pro Quartanâ, Nunquam pulsatur Campana. 'Tis true, at Plato's Great Year, All things will be cheap or dear. If Mules use to bring forth Mules, 'Tis not yet resolv'd in Schools. Which is best, Salt upon Salt, (Ask an Ale-Conner) or Malt upon Malt?

Pick up the Sybils Leaves as you go, Tack them together all in a Row: Sell them to Augurs at high Rates, To busie all their Empty Pates, And teach us to understand the Fates. Lampon, a famous Priest of Greece, Used to Swear by the Geese.

Who is the Cato of the Time? What is Theologick Wine? Shall he be reck'ned among the Flashes, That pist upon his Fathers Ashes? Or she that drove her Coach the rather, Over the Dead Corps of her Father?

Vespasian, for Piss and Whores, Exacted Tribute of the Boors: But what had he in his Head, That took Taxes from the Dead? Why not for every Maiden-Head? A Juicy Virgin among the Senes, Was a Tenure ad-purgandos Renes.

The Sight of Croesus Deadly Stroke, The Organs of his Sons Tongue broke. Pigeons and Crows are excellent Setters, When taught to and fro to carry Letters. In Egypts Continent and Isles, We found a whole Town of Crocodiles. Palamede's invented Dice; So Rich Estates are lost in a Trice: But pardon 'um, they shall lose 'um no more, For I see Poverty stand at the Door.

With Numens the World was once well stor'd, When Thirty thousand were ador'd. Roman Weddings were sure to hold, When Man and Wife each other bought and sold. A Woman with Child desires more Lust; But Brutes keep their Seasons true and just. Brutes never yet offer'd at Male Coition, Nor after Conception, at Repetition: But Rationals are of another Condition, And too oft taken upon Suspicion; Now Lawyers, ye may come with a Prohibition.

Heathens Gods and Goddesses we adore, That us'd to play Rogue and Whore. Drunkard, Buffoon, Pimp and Pander, So our unlucky Wits do wander.

To imitate each Vice-Commander, Pig and Capon, Goose and Gander. Parricides, Incests, Rapes, By their favour make Escapes.

Poets and Mimicks went a Imping, Jupiter and Mercury go a Pimping, The rest follow with Vulcan Limping. We wait with Charms at their Altars, And at the Gallowses with Haltars. We dance stark naked at their Meetings, Bacchus, Venus, Flora's Greetings, Where we enjoy our Ducks and Sweetings.

'Twas I, that so like a Fool, Climb'd Apollo's Threefoot-Stool. And such as I, mad, mad we grew, Farm'd false Oracles to the Crew. We had the luck to come off Blew, For our Responds were never True. Just like the Augurs Divination, Speaking like Bagpipes by Inspiration.

Epsam, Dullidge, Tunbridge Waters, Produce to Ladies, Sons and Daughters; If not, Lords will shew so much favour, To make it worth a Womans Labour, Try Fortunes, you may safer venture thither, Than to Delphos, or Memphis, or you don't know whither. Here you advance your Fames, Better than at the Olympick Games.

Rich Bribes flow to filthy Sots, The Panders thrive by the Venerean Rots,

The basest Parasites in Scarlet stand, The Diamonds sparkle from the bloody Hand. To these Arabia her Odours breaths, India her Silk and Spice bequeaths. So the Fool the Wise commands▪ And goes away with all the Lands.

How did Phocas, that cruel Beast, Advance the Papal Interest? Then began that Fatal Theme, When he made the Priest Supreme. Zachary shifted Pepins Throne, And set Charles Martel in his Room: Many a Battel for him he fought, And to Rome great Treasures brought. Which the Gallick Liberties wrought, Pragmatick Sanctions come to nought.

There are such cunning Tricks and Juglers, Such extraordinary Smuglers; 'Twixt Papal and Imperial Sides, That one by turn each other Rides: And all our Wits can never find, From all Points, how they turn and wind. But still in them we have a Hand, And over them no small Command.

Who hope up the Great Turk's Design, To take the Town of Constantine? And with it famous Greece and Thrace, To th' European Kings Disgrace. We bewitcht the rich Whore-sons to part with their Wealth, Till the Turks got it all by stealth. From thence the Eastern Eagle fled, For want of her warm Nest, is dead.

The Western long before was out of Breath, By Goths and Vandals pin'd to Death.

For we had laid those Rods in Piss, And in they broke, when we did Hiss. For Genserick, Attila, Alarick, And every thing that was Barbarick. I gave them leave with Sword and Fire, To over-run the Roman Empire. I brought Saracens from the Levant, In Spain and Africa to Rant, Without the help of John a Gaunt.

There never was a Richer Prey, In all the vast America. I farther led them such a Dance, Over all Germany and France. 'Twas I that gave a large Commission. To the Spanish Inquisition. Furthermore, I put a Bar To that costly Holy War. I am ready upon all occasions, To bring in Barbarous Invasions. And every day I cut out Works, For my Journey-men, Tartars and Turks.

CANTO X.

A Hypocrite, Os nectar promit, Hang him, Mens Aconita vomit. Take a Miser at the best, Jupiter is in his Chest. Justice may be done to All, And yet no fear the Heavens should fall. A Man may be in Zeal full Hardy, And in the best Things too Tardy.

The Throne and Bed no Rivals breed, 'Tis a good Garden without Weed. Tu omnes, Te nemo, leap over this Block, The Politicians and Priscilians Lock. Take a Lady in her Smock, That in a Cradle had a Knock. Empire's a Shirt so light and thin, Not to put off without the Skin.

Contrà multos Desipere, An Idle Toy, a meer Frippery, A Maiden-head is very slippery. Tell Fools, to perplex 'um, Animae non habent Sexum. Tell bald Sires, in Pleasures bold, That Souls never grow old. I lack to know Materia Prima, A Principio ad Ima.

Interdicts never look back, The Greater sways the better Pack. Who darts all day, before Dark, Ten to one but he hits the Mark.

Rusticks and Commons are Tyrants food, As Tyrants are to Hells Brood. Italian thinks he's sold and bought, When better used than of old for nought.

Tell a Lye, and find the Truth, Take the Devil by the Tooth, Caveat Emptor, a Cheat, Turn the Table after Meat. It passes for a Trickum Legis, To cheat an honest Man Vox Gregis. Take heed of an Old crafty Tony, Latet Vitium, Proximitate Boni.

Fortune hath a Womans Curse, For being woo'd she is the Worse. To keep, not use, a Miser pleases, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. If we rightly judge of Things, No Servant but is born of Kings. Mony is Mortals Blood and Life, Mony is all the Worlds Strife.

If the Fool and Knave don't Ride ye, Fide, sed cui Vide. All Philosophers bespeak you, In two words, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. I say, trust not a Brother, The Daughter devours the Mother. Great Things the Law will perplex, De Minimis non curat Lex.

An old Custom, is an old Lye, Be honest before you Dye.

Women mightily prevail, Of Families both Head and Tail. Quod semel placuit, except thou dotest, Ampliùs displicere non potest, Valeat Quantum valere potest. Drive on the Rule, will never fail ye, Accessorium sequitur Principale.

Say you so? wou'd it were True, Then give every one his Due. They say that Honours stately Gates, Are shut to all Infamous Mates. Let not the Cook, but the Guess, Judge of every dainty Mess. Hear all, Judge of Thine and Mine; But be sure, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

Justice must no Anger show, If it do, away ye go. You may speak, as do Fools; But you must think, as do the Schools. When all is done, by Yea and Nay, The World is but a Stage Play. Polupragmony takes pains, Invention gets all the Gains.

Obligations among the Wise, If once extinct, shall never Rise. Interdum Vulgus rectè Videt, Semel in Anno Apollo Ridet. Where the Law hath not distinguisht, All Difference must be relinquisht. Bernardus non videt omnia, Homer's Ballads are all Somnia.

If Witches fail, don't Jeer us, Aliquando bonus dormit at Homerus. For a Man, 'tis high Time, When a Woman's in her Prime. When the Bells give over Chiming, 'Tis time for Poets to leave Riming.

Are you the White Hens Chick, You'l please a Woman to the Quick. Benè Nasuti, Benè Mentulati, Eme Lectum Oboerati. For pure Musick take your choice, The Night Owl, or the Ravens Voice. ‘ I'm got into an unlucky Vein, ‘ When shall I grow sober again?

For fear you should be run aground, Hold with the Hare, and run with the Hound. Always Halt before a Creeple, Always keep in with the Common People, Be sure never leap over Pauls Steeple. Make Ale with good store of Malt, Relish nothing without Salt. Take no Man at his word, Flatter, though you be a Lord.

One Ass scratches another; Do so, though it be to your Brother. Are you humour'd at every Lock, You were wrapt up in your Mothers Smock. Are you a Fresh lookt, Smooth face Boy, Then you are all the Womens Joy. Get into the Ladies Laps, And they'l be sure to feast your Chaps; But beware of Afterclaps.

Get into a Ladies Favour, She'l bind you to your good Behaviour: For she always has a Favour, Something has some savour. When she smiles, if you be muddy, Shall put you out of your Brown studdy. Hunt, Hawk, Drab, Drink, Rob, Slay, So Gallants pass their Time away.

If I had kept close my Cell, I ne'r•• had known the World so well. We must be Politicians then, Because we Women study Men. If they be taken with our Looks, We'l quickly get them into our Books: We have them every Man, Let them get out, if they can.

Thus we conjure, If you won't pay, We'l tell all you do, or say. We must be fashion'd in all Modes, And Coacht about in all Roads, We'l shew all your Haunts and Revels, And turn you over to all Devils. Quickly, quickly ope your Bags, You shall be clothed all in Rags.

Call for a Scrivener, Set your Hands And Seals, to convey all your Lands. There's no Denial, it must be so, If you come in to Cuckolds Row. Alas, you quickly will grow Old, And so shall we, part with your Gold. You crinckle already in each Leg, In time you will be forc'd to Beg.

Then you rotten Rogues be gone, And let fresh Hectors come on. So we'l serve you, every one, With Palsie, Gout, Pox, or Stone. When you're thus got among the Whores, They shall pay off all your old Scores. The greatest Favour from a Wench, Is to let you dye in the Kings Bench. Send for a Surgion, your last Lock Are Issues, and the Chopping Block.

The Bactrians kept Sepulchral Dogs, To eat Parents alive, like Hogs. When the Crab shall catch the Hare, For Hunting take no farther Care. When the Rat took the Cat, Arras was surpriz'd for all that. Qui nescit orare, Continuò ascendat Mare.

At every thing I have a Flingo, Tutto abractio, nuella stringo. The old Witch is dead, O Janus, Animam Jana pepedit Anus! 'Tis a true Saying, Multi, multa, And 'tis as true, Plurimi, Stulta. Tho Hercules got Thirty Maids with Child, Yet by a Woman his Temple was defil'd.

If the Lions Skin won't do, Tack the Foxes Fur thereto. Learn to blow hot and cold, Learn to be young and old. Have a care of over-reaching, 'Ware Geese, when the Fox is a Preaching.

The best Fish, are always took By a Silver Line, and Golden Hook.

There's a Dish that's very pleasant, Call'd Nusance, or Damage Fesant. If you be troubled with Irish Rats, Provide store of Tartessian Cats. There can be no worse Vexator, Than a half-witted Opiniator. When the Whole Senate sate free, Calpurnia pleaded, as well as we.

Bona, Mala, Pulchra Sordent, To be sure, Mortui non Mordent. Ape in Purple, Dog in Manger, Never fear any Danger. If you would ne're be troubled more With any Pain, Drink Hellebore. If you'l be Just, Pardon the Crows, And let the Pigeons feel the Blows.

He that hath consumed you once, Trust him agen, for the nonce. '〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Come Skinkers, Wine's an Ass to Water-Drinkers. Make Welkin roar, ye can ne're be Madder, Than three blue Beans in a blue Bladder. Put it to Questions and Commands. London Bridge upon Wool-Packs stands.

Have ye not read in ancient Rowls, Of the Praeexistence of Souls: And where they are, and what's their Trade Ever since they were made.

How they are called from their Plantations, Into Male and Female Habitations. When they depart, whither they go Into other Bodies, or no.

‘ I'm something Curious you'l say, ‘ I would fain know what I may: ‘ If not, I'le be content to stay, ‘ Tho now 'tis Night, it will be Day. ‘ The less I know, the more I'le do, ‘ Throw after me an Old Shoe, ‘ For in Business 'twixt Man and Man, ‘ I'le do all the Mischief I can.

Quiddities, Quoddities, Entities, Are Metaphysical Apprentices. Nominal, Real, Ʋnasino••s Colleagues, Projectors, Politicians, Intrigues. Banks his Horse, Prince Rupert's Dog, The Speaking Bear, and Flying Hog. The Sense of Speaking, and 'twere good, If there were an Interrogative Mood.

Good Night to every drowzy Head, When the Moon is in her Flock Bed. A Quartan Ague is an Evil; But we say it is some Devil. Epilepsies, by Jews Confessions, Are the same with Spirits Possessions. A Fiddle, Pipe, or Kettle Drum, Fit a Fool to a Cows Thumb.

Charles Martel, that Champion great, Did Saracens in France defeat:

Borrowed Tithes to pay his Men, But never paid them back agen. For which we served him right well, Turn'd Body and Soul into Hell. A Serpent found on his Tomb Stones, Had carried away all his Bones.

Of our Antiquity we boast the rather, 'Cause Zoroastres was our Father. Horti Pensiles, says Ribera, Were a pleasant Chimera. In Minotaurs Labyrinths gay, Ariadnes Thred-shew'd the way. Attius Naevius had a sore put, To prove his Augustship a Whetstone cut.

The like in Authors I never saw, As Homer, not a Word of Law. It seems there was then many a King, Whose Words were Law, that was the Thing. The Sawcy Dogs bark at the Moon, The Horse runs for a Silver Spoon. Tyresias of the Hellish Blades, For Wisdom excels all other Shades.

Twelve Dii Consentes, Hectoring Boys, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Hober-de-Hoys▪ Philosophers and the Rabbles, For Deities did turn Tables. The Poets broach all the Fables, The Giants ransack all the Stables. Intramundane, Extramandane Gods, With Medioxumi all at odds. Dii Patellarii, or Trencher Scrapers, With Lares & Lemures, are at Daggers and Ra∣piers.

From Atoms, Numbers, or from Fire, Of Gods, sprang the Celestial Quire: But which of these was the true Sire, I leave Socrates to Enquire; For I dare go no higher. There were Sober 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, And as Mad-headed 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Furies.

There are worse Numens, Mice and Rats, With their deadly Foes, Dogs and Cats. And if you should lack Gods to Eat, Onions and Garlick are Sawce for your Meat. All this was an Egyptian Cheat; Ask their Priests, they did the Feat. Witches, whom you so Misuse, Did never Folk so much Abuse.

For these, we turn not Earth like Plowmen, But like Fools, '〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 was an Indian Tower, Too high for Birds to fly over. The Observation must not scape us, The Shapes of Panus and Priapus. Which in the Temples they Revere, But in the Theaters they Jeer: The rest at Altars, they Adore, But in Scenes call Rogue and Whore.

Alexander's Statue, an Architect, From Athos Mountain did Project: To hold a City in his hand, But wanting Water was at a stand.

The Arcadian Sow felt no disquiet, Tho a Nest of Rats did in her Gammon Dyet. In the Kingdoms of Clarencieux and Garter, Where shall a small Army find Quarter?

Look Bridegrooms to your Genial Bed, If no Cow-itch should be spred. If Sheets ben't sown close by some Slut, Or if the Bed-cords ben't Cut. Is the Pox an American Disease, Or came it rather from the Genovese? Who barrel'd up Venetian Mummy, And sold it to them again for Tunny? And so they got both Pox and Money.

I read of a Cabinet of Racks, For every Limb hung up upon Tacks. Rhinolabides, Cheilostrophiae, Otagrae, Dactylotheae, Pedostratae. I think we ne're were such Fools, To need to use such simple Tools. We were never such blind Gulls, To invent Brazen Bears or Bulls.

What can be fancied in Proportion, To an Hebrew Jew for Extortion. Use upon Use, goes on Merily, But Metal upon Metal is false Heraldry. As oft as we hear Quod erat Demonstrandum, So oft we hear Aliquid restat Probandum. 'Tis a most Hangman like Prosecution, To deflower a Virgin before Execution.

‘ We fall in nothing from our Scope, ‘ Save only in dancing down a Rope.

‘ At nothing else we so much Grudge, ‘ As at a Hangman, or a Judge. ‘ An Hempen Noose with an ugly Knot, ‘ Destroys us to rights upon the Spot. ‘ The Scrivener, Devil and his Dam, ‘ Faciunt nos Longam Literam.

‘ Some of us are so fair and bright, ‘ A hungry Cyclops at first sight ‘ Would spare us, but we know ‘ You have no Mercy at all to show. ‘ We'l save our selves then what we can, ‘ Sooner trust a Devil than a Man.

‘ We hurt Bodies more than Purses; ‘ Kill not by Weapons, but by Curses. ‘ When we torment or kill, ‘ No Reason for it, but our Will. ‘ We Covenant to obey ‘ The Evil Spirit, that bears sway. ‘ 'Cause he's all Malice and despight, ‘ Therefore in the same we delight.

‘ We serve him, because we hope ‘ In every thing, but a Rope. ‘ He can relieve us in any Thing, ‘ Till we come to a rough String. ‘ 'Tis said, a Young-Wythe unripe, ‘ Can best choak a Witches Wind-pipe. ‘ 'Tis nothing to break Bars and Chains, ‘ Force Walls and Bulwarks without pains: ‘ But a poor Cord, or slender Twine, ‘ Is beyond the Devil's power, or mine. ‘ There's one thing more besides a Turn, ‘ We cannot drown, but we can burn.

‘ All this we know, but we are High, ‘ Malicious, and love to stand in a Lye. ‘ So stout, as rather than be sham'd, ‘ We dare venture to be damn'd. ‘ So we in time in Pleasures reign, ‘ We'l endure Everlasting Pain. ‘ A Wilfulness of high degree, ‘ To plunge into dark Eternity.

‘ So with Old Nick we did agree, ‘ Therefore it must be, as it must be: ‘ And he must smart, as well as we, ‘ And all his Devils Company. ‘ This World is his, and by Him, ours, ‘ No matter for Celestial Powers. ‘ We're sure of something while we're here, ‘ Tho it cost us ne're so dear.

‘ Beside Revenge and Pride in the Case, there's Lust, ‘ And Hypocrisie, never to be just. ‘ Cruelty ne're in this World rid faster, ‘ Than we do behind an Implacable Master. ‘ It is now become our Calling, ‘ Stand as long as we can, for there will be a falling. ‘ As there are Goods, there must be Evils, ‘ As there are Gods, there must be Devils.

‘ We have the best of a Craft on Earth we can find, ‘ Heaven is far off, we leave it behind. ‘ Here w'have our will, and our fill of our Play, ‘ We never shall hope for a merrier Day. ‘ And this is all the account I can give, ‘ We're sure we shall dye, but not sure we shall live.

CANTO XI.

‘ We can Conjure the proudest Daemon••, ‘ If you'l not do this, we'l split the Heavens, ‘ Lay Isis's Secrets all ope, ‘ Into their Cabinet-Council grope. ‘ Plunder the horrid Magazines, ‘ Called Sacred Eleusynes. ‘ Expose the monstrous Beastly Rites, ‘ Unseen by Moon and Stars a Nights.

‘ Rifle Mysteries, tell Tales, ‘ Of all your Numens, Shees and Males. ‘ Spoil your rich Trade, and all your Fea••••, ‘ Discover all your damned Cheats. ‘ Ransack all your Golden Cists, ‘ Rob your Relicks, starve your Priests. ‘ In Recompence for all your Lies, ‘ Make good every rich Sacrifice.

‘ All our Bullocks and Rams restore, ‘ Or else we'l never offer more. ‘ We'l break your Altars, shut your Gates, ‘ Fire the Temples o're your Pates, ‘ And never serve you at these Rates. ‘ Restore our Crowns and Jewels Gifts, ‘ Or we'l put you all to your last Shifts. ‘ Dash all your Royal Donations, ‘ Cancel all Impropriations.

‘ To do This, I adjure you; ‘ If you do That, I abjure you.

‘ If you do neither, I conjure you, ‘ If you tell Truth, I'le ne're endure you. ‘ An be hang'd, you call us Witches, ‘ An be damn'd, you call us Bitches; ‘ But spight of you we'l wear the Britches.

‘ I'le make Tantalus Ghost, ‘ In Ice to freez, in Flames to rost. ‘ I'le banish Shades to Fairy Land, ‘ Or the dark Cabins of the Stygian Strand. ‘ I'le thrust them into Little-Ease, ‘ Soak 'um in Phlegethon's Boyling Seas. ‘ I'e come arm'd with Hercules Clubs, ‘ And break all the Danaïdes Tubs.

‘ I'le hale Thyestes by Magick Tricks, ‘ To loathed Thebes, out of Styx. ‘ The Ghosts from Sepulchres shall rise, ‘ By Beel-zebub, God of Flies. ‘ Fright Mortals with horrid Cries, ‘ Throw Fire-balls to put out their Eyes. ‘ I'le break in pieces Promotheus's Chains, ‘ And dash out the cruel Vultur's Brains.

‘ Rowze Spirits, stand on Tiptoes, Conjurations, ‘ Answer all my Expostulations. ‘ For Murders, Incest, Thefts and Rapes, ‘ Tell me who have made Escapes? ‘ I'le pull Jove by the Beard, and drive ‘ All his Company before me, dead or alive. ‘ I'le make the Fury-Alecto, skip, ‘ With a fierce Satyr's knotty Whip.

‘ It is our special Wills and Pleasures, ‘ Forthwith to observe all our Measures. ‘ Upon pain of high Displeasures, ‘ To deliver up all our hid and lost Treasures. ‘ From the Center of both Poles, ‘ From all dark skulking Holes. ‘ From the bottom of the Waves, ‘ From rotten Sepulchres and Graves.

‘ From Lakes and Woods, and Desart Sands, ‘ Mountains and Vallies in all Lands. ‘ From the Dungeon of Hell, ‘ And you that in Aery Regions dwell. ‘ Take all the Word of Command, ‘ Before our awful Presence stand. ‘ Come up, come down, you Hellish Rout, ‘ Follow our steps, never give out.

‘ All the Jolly Teutons and Franks, ‘ Never yet plaid such mad Pranks. ‘ As long as our Senses ne're fail us, ‘ Never think to over-hale us. ‘ Our Spells, Charms, and Incantations, ‘ Turn you from your lofty Stations. ‘ We'l clamber to your stately Halls, ‘ And toss you down like Tennis-Balls.

‘ Is Justice fled to you, send her down, ‘ We lack her amongst them of the Long-Gown. ‘ Rule you aloft amongst your selves, ‘ Domineer over Hags and Elves. ‘ We'l make you do as we please, ‘ Or you shall live at little Ease. ‘ If you won't yield, to do so, or so, ‘ Have at you all, down you must go.

‘ You're glad to lick the Fat, and suck the Blood, ‘ Of Beasts, that are for you too good. ‘ Yield, O yield, you Tyrant Pride, ‘ Your Hogen Mogens are defy'd. ‘ Come down from aloft, Come up from below, ‘ Whither we please, Run and Go.

‘ Ye hungry Gods are glad of Collations, ‘ From our Fryings and Fumigations. ‘ But down your Altars go, your Temples fall, ‘ 'Tis in our power to starve you all. ‘ We'l be Gods too our selves, away, ‘ We have a mind to go to play. ‘ Do as we bid you, never frown, ‘ We'l clamber up and pull you down.

‘ Know that our Sect did never love you, ‘ And that we are a Power above you. ‘ Our Charms and Spells, and Incantations, ‘ Are more than all your Divinations. ‘ For Fashions sake y'have been ador'd, ‘ But ye shall be as much abhor'd. ‘ Look to your selves, I come, I come, ‘ And all my Crew, make room, make room.

‘ Make never so strong a Plea, ‘ I'le bind y'all fast in the Red-Sea. ‘ To do your Enemies a Favour, ‘ I'le tye you to your good Behavour: ‘ And tho ye flourish in your Prime, ‘ I'le make you stay and wait my Time.

‘ Come Spirits, when I call, rowze up amain, ‘ What will you do for the King of Spain?

‘ When you're took upon Suspicion, ‘ What will you do for the Lords of the Inquisition? ‘ If the Pope or the Turk lacks, ‘ Empty all your poyson'd Sacks: ‘ Or I'le hang y'up upon Tainters or Tacks, ‘ And proclaim you all for Quacks.

‘ We'l march and knock at Hell-Gates, ‘ Enter, and turn out all your Mates. ‘ Take possession of your Rooms, ‘ And bury you up close in Tombs. ‘ In a word, We'l level all your Towers, ‘ And rifle you of all your Powers. ‘ When we have knockt you all i'th' Head, ‘ We will command all in your stead.

‘ Take Quarters, while you may, yield or dye, ‘ These two ways, we're resolv'd to try: ‘ For I'de have you all to know, ‘ Ye shall and must come to my Bow. ‘ Such is the force of a damn'd Spell, ‘ To turn you out, and stop up Hell. ‘ Give up quickly, do what we lack, ‘ Or 'tis decreed to make Hell crack.

‘ As were the Giants to Mankind, ‘ Such to you, you shall us find. ‘ Do then, I say, as we would have ye, ‘ O•• all the Powers of Hell can't save ye. ‘ O how the pitiful Ghosts shake, ‘ At our Threatnings, how they quake? ‘ Because they know they cannot stand, ‘ Except they stoop to our Command.

‘ You that love to be called Gods, ‘ Shall like Slaves be whipt with Rods. ‘ Foolish Mortals use to fear you, ‘ When you fall they shall Jeer you. ‘ You know when I please to use my Power, ‘ I can destroy you every Hour. ‘ When we find you in Transgression, ‘ We can bring you to Confession.

‘ Have at you, once for all, ‘ We'l make you on us for Mercy call. ‘ Except you strive to make me your Friend, ‘ I say, your Power is at an end. ‘ This of Mine is the most working Spell, ‘ That e're was sent to Heaven or Hell. ‘ We'l take your Brass, Silver, and Gold Mettals, ‘ And melt 'um down to Pots and Kettles. ‘ That which now an Idol makes, ‘ Shall serve for Pispots and for Jakes.

‘ Your Silk and Tissue Robes we'l burn, ‘ Or them into Fools Coats turn. ‘ The World shall know you're Stocks and Stones, ‘ Or nothing else, but Dead mens Bones. ‘ You call your selves Planets and Stars, ‘ That are but Sepulchral Jars: ‘ Crocks and Dust, Mummy at best, ‘ Yet you would be ador'd and blest.

‘ The Cheat's found out, the Truth to tell, ‘ No such Gods are in Heaven or Hell. ‘ Learn then, us Witches to adore, ‘ Such Gods as you shall be Gods no more, ‘ That are no better than Rogue and Whore.

‘ From henceforth Priests put up your Pipes, ‘ With us in Markets go sell Tripes. ‘ A company of rascally Canters, ‘ That set up the Trade of Inchanters.

‘ Ne're think to cheat the World more, ‘ You grow rich, and we grow poor. ‘ You are the dissembling Wights, ‘ Cheating us with Familiar Sprites. ‘ Never was such a Reformation, ‘ Practis'd in any Generation.

‘ Mortals, fear the Daemons no more; ‘ But be afraid of Rogue and Whore. ‘ Those are the Furies, those the Fiends, ‘ That appear to be your Friends, ‘ And are all for their own Ends. ‘ Spare your Altars and your Gifts, ‘ All these are but pitiful Shifts; ‘ I have given them all their Lifts.

‘ From henceforth, ye honest Slaves, ‘ Arm your selves 'gainst Rogues and Knaves. ‘ He that will be an Honest man, ‘ Let Devils hurt him, if they can. ‘ Never fear Stocks or Stones, ‘ Never worship Dead mens Bones. ‘ Never be more daunted by Elves, ‘ The Devils are amongst your selves, ‘ More or less, in Folio's or Twelves.

‘ A company of silly Apes, ‘ Be no more scar'd by Nocturnal shapes. ‘ Princes and Generals give gifts like Fools, ‘ To Apollo's Three-Foot-Stools.

‘ This was the Scab, this was the Itch, ‘ To make Kings poor, and Priests rich; ‘ Was there ever such a Tearing Witch? ‘ Witchcraft by Witchcraft is smother'd, ‘ Witchcraft by Witchcraft is discover'd.

‘ For this purpose, I have sent out Roisters, ‘ To find out these grand Impostors, ‘ And drag them out of their Cells and Cloisters. ‘ And send 'um posting to their doom, ‘ For Honest men to make room. ‘ Honesty, I dare say, ‘ From all carries the Bell away.

‘ The true Witchcraft is Hypocrisie, ‘ And every thing that is a Lye. ‘ I have prov'd the greatest Spy, ‘ That ever found out Villany. ‘ For I have garbled every Sect, ‘ That ever did the World Infect.

‘ Let's ha' no more of these Tricks hereafter, ‘ To cheat every honest Son and Daughter. ‘ Hitherto Knaves have made it their Laughter, ‘ But I'le send 'um to the Slaughter. ‘ This is my piercing Wit, ‘ Which a Philosopher could never hit; ‘ Put 'um all upon the Spit. ‘ Let all the Ranks of Rogues and Knaves, ‘ Be posted from Gibbets to Graves.

‘ At Witches hitherto the Rout, ‘ Use to throw Stones, Jeer and Flout; ‘ Till burnt, or hang'd, would not give out.

‘ 'Tis to be hop'd they'l spare us now, ‘ And look better to the Pen and Plow. ‘ I have been an observing Ranger, ‘ Where's the least shew, there's the most Danger; ‘ Have a care of the Dog i'th' Manger.

‘ Alas, we have done petty Harms, ‘ What think y' of Gowns and Gens d' Arms? ‘ O this Steel, O these Gowns, ‘ O these Leathern Clowns! ‘ O these Men of Wit, ‘ The Golden Mark how they hit! ‘ We are ugly, poor and old, ‘ We did never shine in Gold; ‘ But we have been basely bought and sold.

‘ If we had got but the true knack, ‘ We should have Bowl'd at the Gold-Jack. ‘ This Trick the Devil found, ‘ Shews us all the true Ground. ‘ Defame, Lie, Rob, Murder, Whore; ‘ What can Witches do more? ‘ Nay, tho the World at them doth grutch, ‘ I never knew them do so much.

‘ Alas, we go slowly, upon Crutches, ‘ They fly, and take you in their Clutches: ‘ Keep close to your Callings, if you be wise, ‘ And beware of Saints in disguise. ‘ But at last we shall out-wit 'um, ‘ Or the Devil shall out-split 'um. ‘ In all my Born I ne're cou'd abide 'um, ‘ But tell the World where they use to hide 'um. ‘ I take him for an excellent Setter, ‘ That Preaches by the Spirit, and acts by the Letter▪

‘ Ten thousand Plots to my One they have hatcht, ‘ But now, I think, they were ne're were so well macht, ‘ As in this Satyr I have patcht. ‘ Yet all I go by, is by Books and by Fame, ‘ And for it my Satyr has got an ill Name; ‘ But his Honest desire is Mischief to tame. ‘ My Satyr henceforth would confine to his Den, ‘ And never more come amongst wicked Men.

‘ They have try'd him so long with their Sins, ‘ That he too often frets and grins. ‘ He's tyr'd with skipping and whipping about, ‘ Among the Rascal, Revel Rout. ‘ I'de fain be quiet too, if you please, ‘ Reform, and I'le send him his Writ of Ease.

‘ The Scholar will say, in his Execration, ‘ He finds me too often change my Fashion. ‘ Sometimes I'am a Devil, and the Devil I paint; ‘ Sometimes I appear in the shape of a Saint. ‘ A second Guzman, He or She, ‘ A Knave and an Honest man be. ‘ I am all Villany, I confess, ‘ But I love to go in an honest dress; ‘ I hope, I'm Rogue ne're the less.

‘ Only I am a great Painter of Faces, ‘ Giants and Dwarfs of all Ranks and Races, ‘ Ambling and Trotting in all Paces. ‘ By this you may know, what is good or bad, ‘ And where both are to be had. ‘ If you choose the best, I'le be glad, ‘ I confess, Knaves have made me mad. ‘ All Grace I am long since past, ‘ But you may be sober, honest ande hast.

‘ In this Glass all Faces I show, ‘ An Honest man from a Knave you may know. ‘ Still I teach Honesty, I say, ‘ Tho it be the clean contrary way. ‘ When you see I'am a Fool, if your Wits you don't lose, ‘ I hope the Fairest you will choose. ‘ My Instructions are good and ample, ‘ Tho I give a bad Example.

‘ However I'am in a Disguise, ‘ To commend Vertue, I am so wise. ‘ A wicked Witch may open your Eyes, ‘ The Devil will teach you to Sacrifice. ‘ By good Doctors you refuse to be Taught, ‘ Try, for this once, one that is Naught. ‘ That is in Practise, but teaches True, ‘ And so you may give the Devil his due.

‘ In all this Race Virtue offers a Prize, ‘ Tho she come in a Fools Disguise; ‘ Tis a most rare Enterprize. ‘ You're a great Fool, if you won't see, ‘ You're a great Knave, if you won't agree; ‘ You shall be no Witch for me. ‘ Say once, you were to Honesty turn'd, ‘ By Witches, that deserv'd to be hang'd and burn'd.

‘ 'Tis a good Conversion, by bad Means, ‘ A Black sometimes a White man cleans. ‘ A kicking Cow has good Spenans, ‘ Some body knows what Some body means. ‘ Among Tares good Wheat gleans, ‘ I've always bid you have a care of Beans.

‘ If Angels can't force you from Evil, ‘ Hell may, and the fear of a Devil; ‘ For my part, I love to be Civil.

‘ Any ways, if you can, get to be good, ‘ When hungry, from the hands of a Slut take Food. ‘ This is more than a Tale of a Tub, ‘ Have at a good Cast, Rub a Rub a Rub. ‘ I was always a Good Fellow, ‘ I love the Man that will sometimes be Mellow, ‘ But I cannot endure the Rogue that is Yellow. ‘ Surely, rather than make your self a Starver, ‘ Of good Meat, for once, let a Witch be your Car∣ver.

‘ If I mean no good, you may mean well, ‘ By me good from bad you may spell. ‘ And the more you see Baseness increase, ‘ The more you may love Goodness, if you please. ‘ Never give the Devil his Ease, ‘ While others love War, do you love Peace. ‘ Chuse the Better, refuse the Worse, ‘ Take the Blessing, and leave the Curse; ‘ Say, you were taught it by your Witch Nurse.

‘ Say, you met with a Witch of late, ‘ That brought you from Hell to Heaven Gate: ‘ And there she left you, and you went in, ‘ This was Joan Silver Pin: ‘ Fair without, and foul within, ‘ That went through thick and thin. ‘ Who at last dy'd in a String, ‘ Prognosticated by Almanack Wing.

‘ So Vice has alwaies a Deadly Sting, ‘ Which Rogues at last to Hell does bring. ‘ At which for Joy, I dance and sing, ‘ And all the Bells in the Town shall Ring. ‘ Let them count one for their Friend, ‘ That have brought 'um to this End.

‘ Thus I've took pains to make you understand, ‘ What belongs to a Witches Command. ‘ Who so fit as Cacodaemons. ‘ T'unravel the Snarles of their Fellow Epistemons? ‘ Thus we have you Astral Daemons all at a Bay, ‘ Stir if you dare, if we bid you stay. ‘ But if by chance our Project fails, ‘ We'l cease Conjuring, and tell Tales.

CANTO XII.

A Lady fair, as I am told, Never desired to live to be old: And therefore this most Curious Lass, Spying the first Wrinckle of her face in a Glass; Out of the World in all haste she stole, And told never a living Soul. Poor Fool, when Youth and Beauty fled, Was woundy willing to be dead, As e're she was to lose her Maiden-head. Agreeable to the old Relation, Better be out of the World, than out of the Fashion.

A Vestals Hair-Lace drew the Hulk, In which the Mother of the Gods did sculk: To fetch her off, many a Yoke Of Horse and Men their Tacklings broke,

So Nun Claudia, that was Cast By this Trial, was prov'd Chast. Mark it, she that cries Whore first, Of Whores proves evermore the worst.

The Spaniard is a Formal Fop, The French a Whirligig, Town-Top. The Savoyan a dull Thinker, The German a deep Drinker. We are all Tramontana Gulls, Meer Asses, Artick and Antartick Bulls, And Dunces of empty Skulls. Italians are the Worlds pure Wits, If we're Ingenious, 'tis by Fits.

The Scots are false-hearted Scabs, The Irish lazy, lowzy Shabs, Live upon Vinegar and Crabs. Hollanders Slovens, Swedes and Danes, Old Goths and Vandals have no Brains▪ All that dwell in the Alps Northside, Are full of Ignorance and Pride. Italy's the place for wanton Boys, Curtesans, and Fantastick Toys.

Believe Do•• Quixot▪ Amadis de Gaul, The Suns Knight Palmerion, Devils and all. Lucretia dyed not 'cause she would be chaste, But because Tarquin from her made such haste. Terti•• dyed of the Pox, Supposed honest by Cato the Fox, Cuckolated with broad Horns, like an Ox.

Italy for my Money, Roma Santa, Better than Greece and the Levanta. Here sit I in my dark Cell, To tell Tales from Earth to Hell, And I like my Humor well. Ask Venus, if Hector or Mars were not Twangers, If Polyphemus and Hercules were not Bangers. I Canidia am highly Fam'd, Because I was yet never Tam'd.

Spirit of Harts-horn and Amber, Make my Fancy caper and clamber▪ Give me the Italian Liberty, Wedlock's miscarried, 'Tis a perfect Bilboes to be married. They do be witch 'um and bewhore 'um, As their Fathers did before 'um; Cuckolds all, More Majorum.

I desire to be rich in Pleasure, More than in Rotten Sheep and Treasure. Aristotle was my first Brood, That Metaphysicks understood. Solon was my Son in Law, Lycurgus kept Rebels in Aw. Sappho was my Daughter dear, That taught Poets to sing clear.

My Dogs are of a Spartan Race, Loelaps, Melampus, not Fox or Bawdy-face. Who was Adam's Tutorling? Or, who taught Eve to spin? Old Maids may keep their Maiden-heads, Till the Moon drop Milstones on their Beds. Maids appearing, Maids in being, These, if you know where, wou'd be worth the see∣ing.

On Cuckolds heads, Horns are planted, They deserve to run the Gantlet, And to be call'd Gentlemen of Antlet. Pig Sows and Pig Boors, Boys and Girls, Rogues and Whores. Dawbd, Patcht, Clapt and Chopt, Stew'd, Salivated, Slopt. A Hot, Wet and dry Banian, Shav'd, Rub'd Slic'd with a Wannion.

All will not do, never Sound, Rotten above, and under-ground. A wholsom Husband or Wife, Rarely found Comforts of Life. Jack and Joan Silver-Pin, Fair without, and foul within, An honest Wife can't Favour win. Honours high, and Riches gross, Seeming Beauty, Humors cross. An ugly Miss makes endless strife, To a fair, rich, and wholsom Wife; This Paints the Age to the Life.

Parents and Guardians, look well to your Charge, Let not Striplings and Girls run about at large; Such Vermin you'l find in Gravesend Barge. Keep 'um close up to their Books and Thimbles, For fear they be took with the Throw-go-Nimbles. Leave 'um to Selves, when their Tails shake, I'le warrant you, they'l make your hearts ake: If you don't nip 'um in the Bud, I'le pass my word they shall ne're be good, But vex and torment your Hearts Blood.

That for which you have toyld and sweat, In Riot, Excess, they shall drink and eat. When you're dead, they'l be frolick and jolly, Laugh at your Care, Labour and Folly. They handle the Pitchfork, you the Rake, They scatter all when your heads don't ake.

A rich young Heir comes to make his abode In the City, to learn the newest Mode. In a Tavern, so it came to pass, He meets with a delicate painted Lass. Shee's free to kiss and sit in his Lap, She knocks with her foot, and in comes a Snap. Oh Rogue, what ravish my Wife, Damme Villain I'le have thy Life.

Thus Scuffling, in steps an old Cinque-Cator, And offers to be a Mediator. Nay, pray Sir, spare the poor simple Lad, Your self was young once, and full as mad. No no, but I'le be civil, let him fight for't, But as I live, he shall dye for't. Hold Sir, I beseech you, I'le propound, The Gentleman's willing to compound, And Seal y' a Bond of a Thousand Pound.

A thousand such Cheats are continually framing, In Coffees and Stews, and Houses of Gaming; All which are not worth the naming. Did it ever Rain Geese? Has Spain got the Golden-Fleece? Who sav'd the Capitol at Rome? Who brought the Empire to its Doom? As long as our Senses don't fail us, Never think it to over-hale us.

I'le tell you a prime piece of Skill, You may believe me, if you will. There was a certain Bumkin Lout, Who was at every slashing Bout. With Heat impetuously drove, To cool himself in Venus Grove. He beg'd for Rods, would madly rail, If Lictors with Rods did not brush his Tail. He needs none to put in Bail, That resolves to go to Gaol.

And so furious was the Lown, That he must see the Blood run down. Thus he delighted above measure, To feel at once both Pain and Pleasure. The more tormented, the more he itcht, None can say, but he was bewitcht. He was conjur'd into Venus Arms, No otherwise than by Whipping Charms. We taught him upon Rue to feed, To stop the Urine of his Seed, For fear their should be more of his Breed.

Gonsales at several Stanza's, Got up to the Moon by the help of his Ganza's. And let them that long so to climb, Get up if they can, but let 'um take time, And they must be every Man in his Prime. We can teach a hundred Tricks better than that, With Moon and Stars to sit and Chat. Command their help for Peace or War, Famines or Plagues to further or bar; Alas, I feel my Brains jar.

Amalthe's great Horn, I never saw the like in all my Born. It is called Cornucopia, It is to be seen in Ʋtopia. The dogged, sullen Indian Tree, With Solar Beams will not agree. Of all the Plants, there's but this one, That shuts its Leaves against the Sun.

If it Rains Frogs 'tis Ominous, But if it Rain Hogs, Abdominous. If you lack Bread to your Meat, You may watch till it Rains Wheat. And to compleat all, 'twere fine, If there were a Spring of Wine. Of Wonders, these and more forts, Are recommended by Reports. Of all the rest, it is not good, When it rains Fire and Blood.

Rome tam'd the Barbarians, and made 'um Wise, Good Reason to take 'um in War for a Prize. The Worlds Fortunes were ne're at a stay, Till they inclined all one way. While Marius and Scylla made a Fray, The Caesars chanc'd to get the Day. All Fluctuations that had been, Setled in the Bosom of the Roman Queen.

Aristaeus Proconesus, as Herodotus writes, Travelling abroad for his Delights, Stept into a Fullers Shop by meer chance, And there fell into a deadly Trance. The Fuller amaz'd shuts his Shop in haste, To tell his Friends the ill luck that had past.

When in comes a Cyzicens, that as he rid Post, Said, he met with Aristaeus Ghost.

Trudging as fast as he could Trot Into another World, (I'le lay a Pot.) Then sought they to bury his Corps underground, But no Aristaeus could be found. It seems he was but in a Swound, Some body fetcht him again, I'le be bound. But after Seven years the story rehearses, He appear'd for a while with a Paper of Verses, Call'd Arimaspaei, and then vanisht, As if into Hades he had been banisht.

Three hundred years after, as it had been a Vision, He shew'd himself, after so long Disparition. After he had wandred out of Breath, And play'd Bopeep so often with Death; He dyed at last, and dyed in deed, Made no more hast than good speed. His Statue erected stood in Wind and Weather, Was never made of Running Leather.

Clazomenes, the same that his Soul did down lay, And took it agen for an hour and a day. Cleomenes Astipulaeus all in the Dark, To escape his Foes, shut himself in an Ark: And by a cleanly conveyance out fled, Which was a sign he was not dead. If you had trac'd him 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, You might have overtook him upon the Rode-a.

Zamolxis was an honester Knave, Dwelt in a Subterranean Cave; Thereby to deceive the Scythian Nation, By Pythagoras's Soul Transmigration; You may believe, if you will, this Relation. For this and such like stories are as good, As the Tales of Tom Thumb, or Robin Hood.

Did the Conjurer play fair, That lockt Old Nick in th'Inchanted Chair? It seems by contract on a day, He came to fetch his Soul away. Whom the better to beguile, The Witch pray'd to sit down a while. He quickly found himself supplanted, Must not rise till a longer Lease be granted.

CANTO XIII.

At Babels Hell confounded Spire, We Giants began first to aspire. I know not how we were derided, And all our Company divided. This spoil'd our Job, that fatal Day, We were all glad to run away. We ne're had the luck thus, Never to know the Hand that struck us.

But in Aegypts famous Land, We were taught better to understand, What belongs to a Command, And how none should dare withstand, What we presume to take in hand.

From thence we did advance to Greece, Where we got the Golden Fleece. Philosophers and Poets woe us, But hang 'um, they long to undo us.

Travelling Sophs came in like Fools, To work Journey-work with our Tools. A flock of Owls staring and hooting, Gave their attendance at our mooting. The young Scholars were our Darlings, We had many pleasant Parlings. They lov'd to see us in our Fits, And we delighted in fresh Wits.

The Moon labouring in Eclipse by us Strumpets, Calls for Cymbals, Drums and Trumpets, Homer's Ballads, Hesiod's Ditties, Were the Inventions of Witches. Bring in the Ashes of a Flower, And bring them back to try your power. Play Tricks by Magick Aspersions, To entail Mischiefs upon Reversions.

Apelles Alexander painted so gay, As made Bucephalus neigh. The Birds peckt Zeuxis's Grapes, but the Boy Did not fright them from that Toy. Parrhasius Curtain of Lawn, Was attempted to be drawn. We rockt and knockt Jove in his Cradle, He made Latona's Eggs Adle.

Idaei Dactyli hug'd in our Arms, Found out the Six Ephesian Charms.

Thence grew the Proverb, as they say, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. The Greeks stole the false Palladium, Aeneas brought the true to Latium. Apuleius, Jannes and Jambres, Apollonius Thyanaeus, came out of our Chambers. Semhamphorash's dark Intentions, Palestine Lots were our Magick Inventions.

King Prusius feared more by half Than Hannibals, the words of a Calf: But Caesar wafted to Africa, Tho all the Augurs did gainsay. Alexander marching to the Red-Sea, Was bid halt, 'cause a Bird stood in his way; But Mosellanus shoots and kills her, saying, She could not save her self by staying.

Plato's Commonwealth was ground by Mice, In Tully's Study, that day that Cateline did Rise. Troy's enduring Ten years Test, Was charg'd on Chalca's Sparrows Nest. To Midas's mouth Ants carried Wheat, From Plato's, Bees suckt Honey meat. I doubt this and that Feat, Were no better than a Cheat.

Varro at Cannae fouly falls, Not celebrating the Circaean Festivals. The German Prophecy disannuls us, By that Neck Verse, Vulpes, Leo, Nullus. Pompey, Julius, Augustus, Tony, Lepidus the idle Chrony. Candidates for Universal Rule, Augustus rid th' Imperial Mule.

Delphos basely Philipiz'd, Sybils Caesar Idoliz'd. He may be Lord, or any thing, But he must not be a King. Caligula swept the way from Rome, And sprinkled it as far Belgium. He marcht with Forty thousand Men, Fetcht Cockle-shells and so came home agen.

We dine at the Philosophers Table, Scorning to be amongst the Rabble. In Muses Chamber we come Into Apollo's Dining-Room. In Plato's Academy we stalk, Zeno's Porch, Aristotles Walk, Ptolomy's Library we scan, And study in the Vatican.

If on a Tree ten thousand Figs, If in Sows belly be ten Pigs. Chalcas and Mopsus could not agree, 'Bout this famous Controversie. Lady Hypasia understood Cartesius, Better than men do Hobs or Amesius. Bacchus, Garagantua's red Noses, Pantagruel's triple Chin discloses.

Pythias sinks into the Cell, Sits brooding t'hatch an answer from Hell. Virgins Menstrua's cannot breed, Without help of the Male Seed. Egyptian Hieroglyphicks we write, Delphos Oracles we endite. We wash the Ethiopian white, Choak the fair Day with black Night.

‘ My Spirit's up, all in a heat, ‘ Ready to bewitch all I meet. ‘ Keep off ye Dogs, ye mungrel Curs, ‘ For fear I make more dismal Stirs. ‘ Fools and Slaves will needs be ridden, ‘ By Rogues and Knaves before they're bidden. ‘ Perhaps sometimes I may relent, ‘ But I can never Repent.

‘ Who dares lay an Embargo, ‘ In any Port, upon my Cargo? Alcaeus was a Giant able, To purge more than the Augaean Stable. Scavengers, Fencers, Fidlers, Dancers, Mimicks, Players, and Romancers. Patching Matchevilian Tinkers, Mummers, Roary Tory Drinkers.

Menippus watches, jeers and winks, Epicurus Hogsty stinks. Each Deipnosophist has his Punk, And murders his Rival Drunk. O Rome, Jove must be Capitoline, Before he be acknowledg'd Thine. And Mars must be Quirival, Or else not own'd for a God at all.

The Monky stroaks the Carved Crown, And calls him pitiful dull Clown. Thyestes Rapes, and monstrous Feast, Declare him a very Beast. Oedipus the Ridler, such another, Fill'd Jocasta his Mother.

Dionysius rob'd Jove of his Robe of Gold, Too hot for Summer, for Winter too cold. The same bold King was not afear'd, To spoil Aesculapius of his Beard. To wear a Beard, a sawcy Son, When his Father had none. Why was Apollo always young? With Lyes, when will Hermes a done?

The Ass, whose wit lies in his Tail, Gives Palm to Cuckow from Nightingale. Issa Bills sweeter than the Dove, Or Venus the Goddess of Love. Issa's more blith than Molls or Cisses, No Pearls can value Issa's Kisses. What Issa's this? 'Tis Publius's Bitch, O she was a Roguish Witch.

A Dog in Ladies Bed hath room, Not forgetting her rank Groom. Publius dallies with his Bitch, Better than with his Laundress Witch. Catullus bills his Sparrow, a poor Trade, Rather than his Boy or Maid. Take heed of eating Turky Cocks, That make men out of love with Smocks.

Who but one troubled with the Brimps, Would pick up Mal Cutpurses Nymphs? If fair Ladies had not been chaste, Joan would not be look'd upon in haste. A Fairy Else in Cradle chang'd, Grows up for a Witch to be hang'd. See you a fawning Saint, look to your Hits, When she gets into her mad Fits.

A demure simpring Saint is naught, The still Sow eats up all the Draught.

Tell us of Fictions and Chimaera's, Aegyptian Epocha's and Aera's. Reckon Solar or Lunar years, Before, or since Adam appears. How Muliters and Grooms Crowded into Imperial Rooms. Draw Lots with Lybians for your Dads, Mothers are sure to Bastard Lads.

Verus Emperor, by a Pleonasmus, Buried honourably his Horse Panasmus. Others clad Saints, by scornful Jests, In Devils, Fools Coats, Skins of Beasts. Is there a Magnetick Sphere? Or a Revolution of Plato's Year? When all in the same shape shall appear, Or is all this but a Jeer?

Apollonius understood the Sparrows Tale, (If you please, o're a Pot of Ale.) To a Flock of Sparrows, That at the Gate An Ass had spill'd a Sack of Wheat. An Elm with Female voice articulate, Welcom'd Apollonius to the Gate, Where Aegyptian Gymnosophists sate. Orpheus taught the Postern Lust, Of Boys or Brutes, Buggery just.

Tell me, you that say 'tis a Tale, How Vulturs breed without a Male? Amphyctione, a Virgin pure,

Before her Husband Aristo knew her, Conceiv'd Plato by Apollo; Who could Divine what would follow? Whether Athens or Rome had the best Laws? Caesar or Pompey the better Cause?

Clazomenes, his Soul made a Sally Out of his Body into a Vally: For a Diversion now and then, To take the Air, and home agen. But for fear he should be too bold, He hasted least it should be cold. Euphorbus the Ivy-thigh and Shouldred-Boy, Wore Plato's Soul at the Wars of Troy. If Nero had the Senate at a Beck, What need he wish them all but one Neck?

‘ After all this, ask me the Reason, why ‘ You think I've told so many a Lye? ‘ I'le answer you by and by, ‘ I don't know when I shall be drawn dry. ‘ When the World's honester and better, ‘ I shall cease to be a Setter. ‘ I'le promise you, when all the Store ‘ Of Rogues are took, I'le hunt no more.

‘ I'm just like others of my kind, ‘ That never any Goddess mind: ‘ And yet I cannot but commend ‘ Vertue, and Vice reprehend. ‘ And howsoe're I seem to rail, ‘ Vertue will hold, and Vice will fail. ‘ And though I Rant it at this rate, ‘ The Truth is, Hell must be our Fate.

‘ Howe're from Goodness we turn Tail, ‘ Honesty will at length prevail.

‘ You may be honest still, ‘ Tho it be against our will. ‘ You may be just, tho we ‘ Desperate resolve to be. ‘ And so at last I Congee make, ‘ And you may better Courses take. ‘ Leave us then, for we're resolv'd ‘ To be damn'd, as long as damning will hold. ‘ Tho you promote Vice in Fact or Letter, ‘ If you love your selves, you will grow better.

‘ After all this you may mend, ‘ But we shall never make good End. ‘ You may take care to bless your selves, ‘ Tho we be ever Cursed Elves. ‘ Thus by us you may be befriended, ‘ Tho you're good, we ne're intended. ‘ So out of Evil, Good may come, ‘ We are past hopes, and know our Doom. ‘ Leave us then, tho we ne're leave you, ‘ All our aim is to deceive you.

‘ You may deceive us, if you can, ‘ And be saved every Man. ‘ So we bid you all, Farewel, ‘ For our Portion is Hell.

CANTO XIV.

Mexicans do strangely dote-a, Upon their Almanack called Rota: Of Fifty years Calculation, For the Worlds final Termination. Then they must break all their Pots, And Utensils, as useless Lots; Who can unty these knots? Go Nine miles to such a Bull, 'Tis but next door to get a Trull.

Whither Americans came by Sea or Land, From Tartary or China's Strand. If they're such fools to stretch their Gartars, And return to enlarge their Quarters; It were better to be no Starters. For they have room enough to dwell, If they could see when they are well. Besides, will they leave their Gold, To endure Hunger and Cold?

How was Vespasian at a stand, When a Dog brought him a dead man's Hand? He set the Game, took Scent for Judaea, To be the Roman Eagles Prey. He wagg'd his Tail for Syrian Land, An Omen, He should there Command.

At Altar, take it for a Flam, An Heifer, forsooth, brought forth a Lamb. But oh, the Ox, of Wonders a Million! Came to Vespasian's Pavilion:

Prostrating, you may see by his Eyes, He beg'd to be a Sacrifice. Vespasian, to Miracles enur'd, With Clay a blind man's Eyes he cur'd.

Herodotus wisely uses, To tell Stories by the name of Muses. So I usurp the Witches Name, If they lye, to take away the Shame. He says plainly, the Tale of Troy Was blind Homer's Fiction, that old Boy. The Tale of Aeneas and Dido, Was Virgil's Olei putredo.

Pansas the Painter was cunning, For a Horse tumbling, drew him running. To save his Credit, as he was able, Horse-heels turn'd upward, by turning the Table. Aeneas, Romulus were no Dastards, For they were Mars and Venus Bastards. Centaurs and Hermaphrodites may be proud, To be begot of Ixion's Cloud.

Of Apollo, what can we conclude, Father of Poets, for his Verses rude? He that inspir'd a lofty Strain, How had he such a dull Vein? But he is silenc'd and suspended, And all his false Prophecies ended. But to admire, the greatest odds, Is the Burial of all the Gods.

In Countries where they have been most fam'd, Strange, now they're not so much as nam'd!

And of their Names we should be to seek, Were it not for the Days of the Week. But still we hold it out lusty, Tho you count us old and musty. We understand, by Yea and Nay, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, And Triasunt Omnia.

I have travell'd too and agen, Could ne're see Pigmies, or One-ey'd men. Cybele was not over Chaste, Yet her Priests must be cut-short i'th' Waste. It seems her Holiness is Wise, None but Eunuchs must sacrifice. The Mother of the Gods, tho by her favour, Might be of better Behavour, And her Rites have more good Flavour.

Old Jove kept Sol ty'd to his Bed, Till Alcumena was fully sped. Orpheus went down to Hell, to find Eurydice; was fain to leave her behind, Then to stay amongst her kind. Ceres would have rescu'd the Rape Of Proserpine; but she could not scape. 'Sted of returning to Mums Pap, She chose to stay in Pluto's Lap.

What were the Ingredients of the Bole, That intoxicated Cerberus's Pole? Lull'd three Heads and six Eyes asleep, Hercules drag'd him from the Deep. Where the scowling Curs Foam, Impregnated the Fatter Loam.

Which breeds the Aconite Bane; Was not this Labour in Vain?

Whither fly th' Atoms of the Day, Or the Nightingale past May? Confluxes of Primordial Seeds, Are Causes of several Breeds, Which fill the Earth with pois'nous Weeds. Which may be good to kill the Flees, Besides Omens and Prodigies. Other great Lords and Ladies Got nothing, by descending into Hades.

CANTO XV.

Socrates was given to Toys, Committed Sodomy with Boys. Phaedo came reeking from the Stews To Plato's School, this was no News. Dionysius took Plato by the Sweet-Tooth, A Trencher-Chaplain, forsooth. Democritus bor'd out his Eyes in all haste, Of purpose, that he might be Chaste.

Aristotle was very base, To put his Friend Hermias out of his Place. The same man flattered Alexander, Because he was a great Commander. Aristippus in Purple play'd the Sot, His seeming Gravity lov'd the Pot. Who would not send their Sons to School, if 'twere no more, Than to learn, how to get a Whore?

Aristippus had Laïs, As right, as the Corinthian Thaïs. Aristippus had all Gratis, Because he brought her Pupils Satis. Truly her Wits did not wander, She had a Philosopher for her Pander. That Youths, by their Masters Fame, Might frequent her without shame. Yet this Man, give him his Due, Is preser'd 'fore all the Gowned Crew.

Severus cry'd, O Jupiter, O all ye Gods, Ar••banus, and such as he, 'tis odds. They all live, and live so, As into Senate to come and go. Plato was crafty, false and loud, And all his Scholars prov'd proud. Socrates and Plato were Cuckolds and Panders, And yet all their Geese were Ganders.

Philosophers seek to mend us, And will mend themselves, ad Graecas Calenda••. When the Geese piss Holy-Water, I dare not be their Compurgator. Thus in the World we daily see Far greater Atheists, than we. We're such by Practise and Vocation, But they, by Deed and Speculation.

By the Laws of Oleron, (I had almost said of Oberon) Trial of Ordial, hot Plow-shares, Fighting with Swords and Spears.

But by Water, sink or swim, This is the right Witches Trim; This ducking make my eyes grow dim. But the wiser Rhodian Rules Had no such Tricks, made no such Fools, 'Tis bad jesting with Edg'd Tools.

Those that are high-flown i'th' Crown, The Jovial Boys in all the Town. What tho they wear a Sword or Gown? I say, such Rascals must come down. But for a poor old Toothless Dame, T'endure the Water, or the Flame. Watch whole Nights and Days, 'tis a Shame, And Hang, or Burn at last, there goes the Game.

‘ Hitherto, afore and aft, ‘ I've labour'd t'uphold my own Craft. ‘ But with all I've done my best, ‘ To beat down Hypocrisie and Interest. ‘ Those of all Sins would vex a Saint, ‘ Create just Causes of Complaint: ‘ For tho I be ne're so base, ‘ I loath that damn'd confounded Case.

‘ In this I know all of our kind, ‘ Will be exactly of my mind. ‘ Should Perfius's Muse, or Juvenal's tart Quean, ‘ Scold, till they should be cuckt in Hyppocrene. ‘ And having garbled every Sect, ‘ Invent strange Vices, only to correct. ‘ 'Mongst all their Gaol-delivery of Sins, ‘ Nothing there is whereat their Satyr grins, ‘ So bad as these.

‘ Tho we are counted damn'd Infection, ‘ We could give th'opprest Protection. ‘ And so bewitch the Extorting Furies, ‘ As to provide them Harpies Juries. ‘ To hang them up in th'Air a drying, ‘ Or Press them, to be long a dying. ‘ Send them therefore to us, and we'l scour'um, ‘ Cut them out in Sippets and devour'um. ‘ Teach them to oppress Mortals so, ‘ Without difference 'twixt Friend and Foe.

Tell us plainly, in a Word, Why Devils abhor a naked Sword? Why Spirits are afraid to enter, Into an enchanted Circles Center: And yet a hungry Mouse shall venter, And a Cat after her to shent her? Why are the Northern Devils worst, And of all others most Accurst?

Whither Enceladus's Tomb, Under Aetna's Fiery Room, Be the cause of that Flame and Smoke, Which the poor Neighbours burn and choke? What is Entelechia, I trow, Pluto's Idaea, that none can know? Whither do those Spirits fly, Darted from an Enchanting-Eye? What are the Rules of Fascination? Or the Best Forms of Incantation?

Whether 'tis worth a Revelation, If Chrystal be Ice of harder Congelation? If Coral be under water soft, And hardens when it comes aloft?

If Diamonds yield to Pistillation? If Goats-blood makes softness, or duration? We need not the tryal of Ordeal, To know if Gold be a Cordial.

If Porcellane or China-Ware, No less than an Age can prepare? If it rain Wheat, if Sheep drink? If Goats are sweet, or Jews stink? If Oak-Apples shew the Fates, Or if Camphire Eunuchates? Whether Vipers eat their way Out of their Dams belly, as they say? If it rains Porridge, I wiss, We may chance to lack a Dish?

Whether the old Accubations, Be the best postures at Collations? If it rain on Egypts ground? If Nilus measuring Wand be found? With what Glasses Archimedes did Ships burn? What Engine he had the Earth to turn? Shew me Cocks-Eggs, and Crows white? Turn me days into night? Teach me to walk out of sight?

Give me the true Weapon-Salve? Tell me what my Cow shall Calve? Shew me that fine Sight, Where the Devils painted White? Ephialtes, have a care, Whether it be Horse or Mare? Graecia mendax, Crete a Glutton, If Rogues or Whores best love Mutton?

If Gypsies be conterfeit Moors? The Spaniards turn'd the true out of doors. Jews and Gypsies, the only Nations, That do Penance Peregrinations. After wandring Dissipations, Shall they ever have Fixations? Gypsies are the Grand Signior's Spies, Imploy'd to fetcht and carry Lies.

If St. George, that fighting Saint, Was ever, as they now him paint? If Homer dyed by a Riddle? If Amphion to Fishes did Fiddle? If the Stork eats Snakes? Which the Ass loves best, Grass or Brakes? If a Star on Hemlock baits? If Hannibal knockt at Romes Gates? What is Fortune, or the Fates?

If for any thing Mushrooms are good? If any Islands were before the Flood? If Blood and Smoke be Daemons Food? Mahomet's Camel, Livy's Ox, Neapolitan, or Indian Pox? Tell me, if poor Robin Ruck, Be the Author of good Luck? Why Gentlemen Ushers have slender Legs? Of what use are Muscadine and Eggs?

Where are the Fragments of the Ark? Is not China a great Park? Tell me the Noblest sort of Roses? The best Persian and Roman Noses? If Orestes was bewitcht, Or if his guilty Conscience itcht?

Paracelsus dyed in the Portal Of's Age, that would make men Immortal. Milo at th' Olympiads carried an Ox, And after eat it up, with a Pox.

Whether Gyges his Ring, Discover'd every invisible thing? Shew me the Sabbatick Stream, Of which the Rabbi Jews dream? Sferra Cavallo serves to loose Iron Locks, and Horses Shoes. Had Scipio that Picklock from the Fates, He needed not so long battery at Carthage Gates?

Are Catadupae, one and all, Deaf as Millars, with Nilus Fall? Why Tulips never bear a Blew? Why Harlots wear a Virgin Hue. If Virgil was a Plagiary? How he came to be so Airy? If Vulturs all Females be, How were they got without a He? The Clergy may wish the Tenth Egg best; This is as true as all the rest.

If there be true Giants Bones? Aetites, or true Eagles Stones? Tell me, if Husbands be Proxies, In Labour, to secure their Doxies? Tell me, that Queen that ••ate I'th' Lap of her Fathers Assassinate? Had she the heart, a beastly Trull, To quaff with him in her Fathers Skull?

If Mahomet's Tomb, O Rare, Hangs like a Meteor in the Air? Magnetick Rocks, Chalybiat Mountains, Salt Springs, or Petrifying Fountains? Why no Blacks in America, Tho the same Clime with Africa? First Spawn, next Tadpole, last Frog, More work with them, than to make a Dog.

Iron Filaments weav'd to a Cloth, (To tell y'a Lye I would be loth.) Resist the Fire, if my Wit don't wander, More than the suppos'd Salamander. Could Vinegar eat out a way For Hannibal, o're the Alpes, I pray? How Philtrums, Ligatures, and Charms, Lustrations, Amulets, Characters do harms?

Anaxagoras, after a Bowl of Sack, Affirmed, that Snow was Black. Who was Autopta, but Adam? What Mother had he, but Ceres Madam? Ptolomy's Account was but from Nebonazzar, Who is the same with Salmonassar. Chaldaean Records, counted most good, Got up no higher than the Flood.

Arcadians rose very soon. Reckoning Elder than the Moon. The Sabbatick Seven thousand Year, Stops the Course of every Sphere. Tell me Chronologists, most sober, Began the World in March or October? In the Moons Full, or Prime, Was the Beginning of Time?

He shall be Mine and Apollo's Friend, That tells me, when the World shall end?

Butter will silence Bombylation, Earth and Blood have Circulation. Opium and Scammony will dead the blows, In Dog days tell me it Snows. Tartars vegetable Lamb, The Food of Wolves, is but a Flam. As if you said, a Sheep or Ram, Or the Devil and his Dam.

Bernacles or Goose Trees, Remora's, Common-wealth of Bees, At the North Pole Words Freez, Honesty lyes by the Lees. I should as soon endure Drunkenness, Statary for a Cure. In Nature, which is East and West; In Morals, which is Worst or Best? Of all Truths we may make a Jest, Need never come to be Confest.

Hunt after those strange Sights, Of Hares being Hermaphrodites. If Hares change Sexes too and agen, 'Tis work for Lawyers now and then. But not to lay all upon Hares, Nero's Coach was drawn by Hermaphrodite Mares. Hares multiply both ways, To make work for Hunters now-a-days.

Strange Mysteries in Generations, Hares and Womens Superfoetations.

Hares have Retro-Ʋrinations, As also Retro-Copulations. A Creature hard of finding, Every way turning and winding; Are their Laws always binding?

Was Judas hang'd upon an Eldar? (Here's a Health to Hanse in Keldar.) At the Root do Jews-Ears spring, For Quinsies, Medicine for a King. Could strangling such Virtue bring, To cure Choaking? sing Hey ding ding▪ Sir John Mandevil tells Ctesia's Tales, We are all drinking in Wales, 'Twill make us merry in Hills and Dales.

Where does the Eagle make his Nest, Why Storks affect Republicks best. 'Tis a very prety Jest, And much like all the rest. Whores would leave Savin, if Brakes or Fearn Would serve as well to kill a Bearn. Phylla and Mercury produces Boys, Which most of all are Womens Joys.

Dog finds his Master in the Night, Sooner than an Honest man by Light. If I should take Pliny the Naturalist, The Two thousand Authors Rhapsodist. Or Athenaeus of the same kind, I could not better please my mind. Why did Augustus's Pontifex Sacrifice, To Vulcan Ten thousand Prophecies? In contempt of Apollo's Rites, Erected the Order of Twelve Knights.

See plainly Nisa's Golden Lock, And the Ship Argos in the Dock; Bootes in his Boots and Frock. The great Syracuse Bulk, Holds Barns and Stables in her Hulk. When all Tongues were boyl'd in a Pot, Was Lingo Franc the Scum, or not?

Tell us, how Hydra's Seven Heads, Slept all together in their Beds? How Argus's hundred Eyes were bob'd? And the golden Orchard rob'd? The amorous Moon, stole to her Minion, Whole Nights kissing, sleeping Endymion. Caveare, Sack-Possits, and Cock Treadings, Were they Dishes us'd at Weddings?

In Naturalibus putis puris, I pray resolve me Quid Juris? Tell me whence Reason and Speech spring, If we see or hear Nothing? Why the Rich, that have no need of Dinners, Can find in their hearts to eat up poor Sinners? To be took by the Teeth, or be took by a Bribe, Prevails more than the Learning of a Scribe.

You'l ask me, Will I ne're a done? Tilt the Hogshead, make it run. Many foul Faults I have forgotten, You'l find the worst in the Bottom. War wherries Rome for Fluctus Decimanus, At Thule who shall entertain us?

Procopii opera Anecdota, Were call'd Arcana Historia.

In which Justinian was blam'd, And Bellisarius defam'd. To blast those Hero's he was not asham'd, With whom the same day he was not to be nam'd▪ So Epicurus, Seneca, Nicholas, of great Fames For Vertue, for Vice got unlucky Names. A Trick has been too often us'd, For Gallant men to be abus'd.

Occult Qualities, is a poor Come off, The last Refuge for a Cavelling Soph. I observe in all my Travels, Adam and Eve painted with Navels. A Midwife will resolve you, that none Are so, but such as are bred and fed in the Womb. Absyrtes scatter'd Limbs, who tore And re-joyn'd them; but that Witch Whore, Now I'm quite spent, I must give o're.

CANTO XVI.

But first I'le handle some Law Points, That are torn and rackt out of Joints. 'Tis the great Design of Law, To keep us Witches most in Aw. Laws are good, but manag'd so, As to manage our deadly Blow.

Then have at some for all their Threats, For putting us into cold Sweats. Have at those Pety-Foggers that fright us, And for our Craft so oft Indict us. At Tyburn with Halters you make us take Turns, At Smithfield you furnish us with Faggots and Urns.

Law sleeps, you say, but never dyes, I wonder when she opens her Eyes; You take us all for Whores and Spies.

'Tis for our health to make Discoveries, If it be possible, of all Recoveries. But of Recoveries it is complain'd, Some are True, and some are Feign'd. A True one, rightly got, is a just Eviction, A False one, wrongly got, is a bad Fiction.

To this pass it is now grown, We can settle Estates, that are none of our own. And destroy other mens, without Attainder, Which are truly theirs in Reversion or Remainder. For this, enter into the Scene, The Stage-Players with their Bands starcht clean. The Demandant, or the Recoverer, The Vouchee, or the Discoverer. These two Knavishly agree With the Knave Tenant, the Recoveree.

If then you would cut off the Entail, Of Land you give, or put to Sale, For ever, from the Heirs Male. For a feign'd Entry, you must be at Cost, Sur Disseisin en la Post. This feigned Tenant, Lug him by th'Ears, Is to appear in the Court of Common Pleas.

For a Wilful Default, a Writ of Seisin flyes, For the Tenant against the Voucher of Lyes. Who is the poor Bag-bearer unlanded, To warrant the Heir in Tail, if you understand it, And you may, when you please Command it.

Ned Hones, the Bag-bearer was He, That was for Thirty years Common Vouchee.

To whom past the greatest part of English Ground, For his own Lands, which could never be found. To answer the Remainder in Tail, That the Recovery might never fail. Thus for all you have a Warrant, Which is some pitiful Knight Errand. To prevent Everlasting War, This is an Everlasting Bar. All this passes through the hand Of the Common Hang-Land.

This is the famous Alienation, That runs from generation to generation. The Statute of Westminster the Second, they say, Was made to hinder, this foul play. But this is suffered by Men of Parts, Because of the hardness of mens Hearts. I wonder before 'um All, How this passes in Judgment Hall.

Things of this Nature long time have proceeded, 'Tis high time such Gardens should be weeded. Inofficiosi Testamenti Querela, Iniquae Praeteritionis est Medela. A Ranting Son must have his Merit, His Father may him Disinherit. The Dutiful Son, without Extortion, May come in for a Childs Portion. It is Justice in all Laws, To Disinherit none without a Cause.

Minors, Fools, Prodigals and Mad, From Praetor Guardians and Tutors had. So to preserve Estates, 'twas fit, For such as should have more Honesty and Wit. A Father refuses his Daughter to marry, At Five and twenty she need not tarry, In the mean time, she's like to miscarry. Then, without his consent, her self she may wed, To a Chaste equal marriage Bed. And being then in her own Power, He's bound to allow her a fit Dower, She may make her Husband a Cuckold each hour.

Is the Case rightly stated, By Bedding Matrimony is consummated. Reason of Law gives better content, Marriage is compleated by Consent. In a Thing Common, at first sight, The Usurper seems t'have the best Right. 'Twere better said, Hath the most Might, We may bid all Justice good Night; Such things as these are very Tight.

If an Evil deed be done, And a bad Consequence thereupon run. The Post Fact, by Estimation, Is counted no good Augmentation, How can this be Rectum in Curia, Scienti non fit Injuria? Because I see and feel my Loss, I must come home by Weeping Cross.

An Obligation by Words alone, By other Words is overthrown.

This is to give and take a Thing, a Rambling Will, Runs round like a Horse in a Mill. But if you go among the Moors, They'l turn such a Rascal out a Doors. In some Case, a man may not act in another man's Name, Tho, with his Consent; Is not this a Shame?

He that shall begin an Action, May stop it, without a Fraction: But why is there no Coaction, To prevent endless Distraction. To have the Thing, and t'have the Right, Seem to run parallel at first sight; But all's overcome by Might.

Sued to an Outlary, and never know it, Pay the Mony, and nothing to shew it. The Cheating Rogue you shall never find, Have a care always, before and behind. This can't be revok't for many a Crown, As soon turn Westminster Hall upside down; For this have a care of the Men of the Gown.

The Law tells you what Fear is Just, But be a Constant man you must; But still have a Care whom you trust▪ Because my Goods, to a Carrier-deliver'd, Are sold by him, they can ne're be recover'd. If an Officer steals the Kings Artillery, He can only stand in the Pillory: Or lye in Prison, 'till the next Gaol-Delivery, Or wear a Paper Livery.

An Interest, as we read, From Law, not from Fact, shall proceed: Why not from both, if there be need? It is no part of my Creed. Is there less Right, Ask the King, In the Action, than the Thing? Hallow Boys, make all the Bells ring, At every Turning and Winding.

A Debt is due at such a Time, When the Cause is in its Prime: To ask for't, Till that's past it shall be a Crime, To speak, out of the Nick of Time. Why should Counsel for Common-Strife, Be refused for a man's Life? Why should a Man Swear for the King, That never knew of such a Thing?

He hath no Sin, they say, That Sins because he must Obey: And because he don't say Nay, On whom then shall the Fault lay? He that obeys an unjust Command, For an Innocent must stand. 'Tis no Justice worth a Straw, To make Necessity a Law.

When once by Law a thing is Bad, Necessity makes it good, O mad! Non Expressa non nocent, Tales Honestatem non docent. Tho Honesty be not exprest, 'Tis the meaning of all the rest. And we must take the Sense that's Best, Or else we defile our own Nest.

Res Iudicata accipitur pro Veritate, Makes Pro Judicii Majestate. A Wrong Judgment is took for True, Not so in Hell, give 'um their Due. Let Judges look better to their Causes, Not to be excus'd by such lamentable Clauses. The Condemn'd Innocents will never cease, To condemn such Innocent Judges as these.

Just so the Physician kills by the Book, As the Lawyer does by hook and by crook. Ignorance and Bribery destroys Mens Lives and Fortunes, O brave Boys. This makes for us, for to these we are Saints, We never admit of unjust Complaints. Examine how by Lawyers Skill, Causes are grounded in a Mill.

The best Rule is, Non remittitur Peccatum, But least observ'd, Nisi restituatur Ablatum. It runs in Rhime, and is great Reason, And the performance ne're out of Season. But you shall find men of the best Constitution, Never guilty of so good a Conclusion. Alas, it would be counted Intrusion, To bring into the World such monstrous Confusion.

Shall a Cause be cast, for lack of a Letter, Or a false Name by a Rascally Setter? Or the misdating a Minute of Time, Be counted an Incorrigible Crime? 'Cause solemn Forms must not be chang'd, Therefore a True man must be hang'd? By a Mistake Truth is Confuted, So is many an honest Man basely Cornuted.

Why do Jurisconsults tell such Stories, Durior est Causa Petitoris. The wronged Supplicant hath favour Lesser, Than the cursed Oppressor. And all, because he is Possessor, As if thereby his Crime were Lesser. If these things be done by these Law Rooks, The Devil sends Meat, and the Devil sends Cooks.

In Causes of Gain, 'tis much observ'd, The Rule is, First come, first serv'd. Should it be so in Justice too, Then run Boys for Game, Alas, Aloo. Righteous Dealing shall never find room, When Justice and Charity begins at home. A man of Estate, and flourishing Condition, Shall never be taken upon Suspicion. But a poor Honest man is ever neglected, And without cause is ever suspected.

If a good Cause be not put in a right state, Shall a Judge therefore put it out of Date? For a small failure, that may be Recruited, Shall an Honest man forthwith be Nonsuited? In Formâ Pauperis to Sue, Is the same as to come short of your Due. If a Process by a Knave be unduly took, An Honest man for his Cause may go look.

Estates, we may say, without Suspicion, Are Absolute, or on Condition: That is to say Allode or Fee, A•• Goths and Vandals did agree. Littleton labours Tooth and Nail, To make them Fee Simple or Fee Tail.

Fee Simple is a Contradiction, And for the Tail it lacks Friction. Simple and Absolute are all one, As is a Fee and a Condition. Whip'um soundly, my Maid Alecto, For a Contradiction in eodem Adjecto.

When there is most need of Reges, Inter Armasilent Leges. It is the Burden of a Song, A Post Fact shall increase no Wrong. In all my Spells past and gone, I ne're met with the Spirit Formedon. The Romans never heard of Battels, As now there are, 'twixt Lands, Goods and Chat∣tels

An Heir and an Executor divided, For this our Law is much derided. What is that horrid Affidavit, Of Felonice Murderavit? If the Law be the bare Letter, How shall Equity fare better? I like well the word Habendum, I can't endure his Fellow Reddendum.

To abate a lawful Writ, To make causeless Demurrer, is not fit. To be judg'd by old Reports, Are the Benches Dernier Resorts. Tho there's variety in Cases, As much or more as there is in Faces. To kill a Thief se Defendendo, Deserves not a Reprimendo. But what if Ego me Suspendo, Then of a Fool there is an Endo.

John an Okes and John a Stile, Dwell but within half a Mile.

Baron and Feme, Felons together, Shall not both hang in wind and weather. The Man is streightned with a Rope, But the good Wife shall have her Scope. Shees reckoned nothing at all, Accessory nor Principal. Because she must be always at hand, To obey her Husband's Command; He bids her steal, let him bid her be Hang'd.

Tho a Feme doth steal or kill, She is suppos'd to have no Will. We can't come off so when we do harm, Tho we be under Covert Barn. What is the Action upon the Case? He seems to have a broad brazen Face. He looks to be always the same, Yet he ever lackt a Name.

Reason, Reason of Law, Reason of State, How it swells to a wondrous Rate? To be condemned for Fraud or Theft, To lose his Right hand, of which he was bereft; What think you, Shall he lose his Left? Murder and Manslaughter, Which is which, Mother or Daughter? We shall not know them asunder hereafter.

Chance-medly to Murther is no near Kin, 'Tis a Misery, no Sin. In Natures Laws they are not skilful, That say, all other Homicide is not Wilful.

Is it not a sudden Passion? Excuses for Life lost in such a fashion. Tho there were no Malice Prepense, To aggravate so great Offence.

Because every mad Fool is crost, A wise Man's life must not be lost. Malice, Passion, and Pride shews, By giving of such fatal Blows. Omnia quae movent ad mortem, Must undergo the same sortem.

The Law requires Life, Lands and Goods, For the Wilful spilling of Bloods. No Life, but Goods only for Manslaughter, 'Tis pity it should be so hereafter. Tho it be Se Defendendo, It shall have the same Reprehendo. But that which is of all the Core, Felo de se suffers no more.

If a Thief rob and break no door, Is he no Felon therefore? And if he chance in fear to fly for't, Doth he then deserve to dye for't? Fear no harm shall come near ye, Idem est non esse, & non apparere. Trust Aristotle's Ipse dixit, Qui benè latuit, benè vixit.

The Eldest Male must sole Inherit, Tho the rest have much more Merit. What shall they do for better or worse, But Beg, or Steal, or take a Purse? This will extort many a Curse.

This makes them march, against their Will, Along with us, up Holborn Hill: With many a Jack and many a Gill, Who all at Tiburn hang their fill.

We never wear Purple-Gowns, But we command Scepters and Crowns. The Men that most converse in Books, Look upon us with wry Looks; Because we prove them the greatest Rooks. Whether a Custom may break a Law, Whether I stumble at a Straw.

Elopement from a Husbands Bower, Forfeits clearly the Wives Dower. The Man loses nothing, though by wilful Mistake He from his Wife Elopement make. Why should the Man only be free, From Matrimonial Treachery? Ask the Fair rich Lady Pomona, If Lands as well as Chattels be not Bona.

Magna Charta & de Foresta, Statute of Marlebridge are the Best-a. The great Petition of Right, We get no benefit by't. No Habeas Corpus can shent us, Latitat, or Non est Inventus. Exigents or Certioraries, We are in the Land of Fairies.

Our Distringas's at the Tree, Where the Hangman gets his Fee. The worst of all that can befall us, Is at the Gallows to Enstall us.

Nil Factum, quod non factum Prius, Seldom such Justice you deny us.

How sometimes is a Service choakt, Interlocutory Judgment Revok't? Many Escheats and Primer Seisins, Are contrary to Sense and Reasons. Prodigals, Madmen, Fools by Right, Should have their Guardians all alike: And their Estates by Publick Cares, Prescrib'd for their wiser Heirs.

If my stollen Goods be dropt or waiv'd, For me they never shall be sav'd. The Reason why I am defeated, Is, because they are Escheated. I am risen on the wrong side, I must not take them, if brought by the Tide: For help, I know not who shall be my Guide, And which is worse, I must not Chide.

Buyers of Justice must sell at last, The Devils do not, all so fast. Rhadamanthus, a brave Lad, Scorns to do a Deed so bad. Politick and Personal Capacities, Are contrary to all Veracities. An Outlary you may stick, if you will, As you do a Bear or Bull.

He that to kill is an Instigator, Deserves death as much as the Perpetrator. What think you of Writs of Error, To Innocent Sufferers, a Terror?

Supersedeas, Procedendo's, Rules of Court are no Amendo's. Never Question Pope Joan-a, Moritur Actio cum Personâ.

Writs of false Date, The Via Lata, False Charges of Rata pro Ratâ; Or, if you please, Pro Re natâ. Corpus cum Causa, I ken well, Corpus cum Causa, I can't tell. Mala Grammatica non vitiat Chartam, Sed Mala Causa spoliat Partem. 'Tis true, as they say at Falerno, Beato il Filiolo qui Padro in Inferno.

I've made my self a great Dictator, A Magisterial Arbitrator. I censure Lawyers and Sophies, Vaunting with Triumphant Trophies. Not without just Cause, I'le assure you, We have no Reason to endure you. We tell them their own more clearly, Than they that pretend to love'um so dearly. Others are Meal-mouth'd, dare not speak, We fear no Vengeance to wreak. Tho we don't do, we dare tell Truth, More than the best that cry, Your Servant for∣sooth.

We hold not fit to deal Cum Regibus, Nemo debet esse Sapientior Legibus. I may venture into Curiam, Actus Legis non facit Injuriam. There's no Writ ad Procedendum, A Communi observantiâ, non est Recedendum.

How can there be a Legitimation, Of a Bastard Generation?

Can Edicts, Seals, or Decrees, Purge the Dross of a Spurious Disease? When Blood in Nature is polluted, How can it be by Law diluted? The Law grants Priviledges when none due, But no Law can make Falshood true. Civils, not Morals change, I am a Dotard, Once a Bastard, and ever a Bastard.

We find in Classical Records, The Lawyers then were Roman Lords. As Noble Patrons they did plead For poor Clients, but scorn to be Fee'd. No Mercenary Tongues there, When Justice was Mistress of the Chair. 'Tis an intolerable Abuse, When hackney Tongues and Pens are in use.

Then Justice freely had its play, Equity, Rigor did allay. All were punish'd that went astray▪ The Righteous Case got the Day. The Common Judge was Praetor, and then, Able to give Right to all kind of Men. By this, in glory, peace and health, Florisht that famous Commonwealth.

The Law sleeps, but never dyes, Teach me a new way to make Lyes. 'Tis a dangerous Innovation, To revive Truth by Reformation.

By no means, let all Ill lye quiet, 'Tis dangerous to change Diet. Whether Ingratitude make void a Gift, When lowzy, whether I want a Shift?

Before a Monk creeps to his Cell, He makes his Will, then ring the Bell. For the Razor passing his Crown, Into Hades sends him down. And now he's dead, he can't Revoke, The last Words that e're he Spoke. How can this be Rectum in Curia, Summum Jus, Summa Injuria?

The Heir shall meddle with the Land, But of Goods he has no Command; For the Reason, I am at a stand. The Abating of a Writ, Is the Abating of Wit. Elegits, Fieri, Scire facias, Ad satisfaciendum Capias.

For Twelve-pence stole out of Box, a Thief must dye, For less, if taken from a Person; Why? I'le be an Honest man, live or dye. I am for the Custom of Gavel-kind, By which no Child is left behind. The youngest 'fore the Eldest I never saw Prefer'd, but by Nottingham Law. He that's best born, is call'd a Mulier, Is not this a Common Law Peculiar?

Shall a Judge condemn by a Process right sent, The Man that he knows to be Innocent? Justice is ever in Laws well meant. For this find out an Expedient, Forms must not hinder a good Intent. Shall the Discoveror for a Warrant stay, 'Till the Thief or the Murderer be quite run away? When the false Witness 'gainst the true Man cries, Which shall the Judge believe, his Ears or his Eyes?

When there is matter of Law to act, The shift is, to plead matter of Fact. The Deed is wrong, the Cause is right, So Justice bids us all Good Night. If then this way of Reasoning hold, To do all wrong we may be bold. A brave Rule, much for their Credit, Factum valet fieri non debuit.

So the grand Sophs by such false Rules, Make selves and others Knaves and Fools. They talk much of Womens Reasons, But when did we justifie Treasons? And slubber Crimes so slightly o're, Suffer Hypocrisie to keep the Door. That we are wicked, we can't deny, Yet we're not so much given to lye; In this they give us the Go-by.

Matter of Fact, Matter of Right, Ever maintain a deadly Fight. O the Rogueries and Cheats, That Men can work by such damn'd Feats. They say Women cannot dispute, But our Honesty can Men confute.

We profess no good, therefore defie it; They profess all good, and deny it.

Surely we have as good Brains As they, and do take as much Pains. But they exceed us in the Main, Because they get all the Gain. Philosophy and History, And every profound Mystery. We dare agree with them for their Bones, For all their Philosophers Stones.

They hide all Ill by their Gravity, We discover all by our Pravity. Why cannot we be given to Reading, Tho they take up all the Pleading? They're glad to come to us a woing, We're more for knowing, they for doing. Video meliora proboque, We can kill ye, so can they and stroke ye:

We stand aloof from sacred Ares, Because our guilt creates our Fears. They draw nigh to holy Fires, To sacrifice with foul Desires. We offer at the Devil's Shrine, Because to serve him we combine. We'l not compare with Men for Lungs, But dare outvy them all for Tongues.

We can contrive, and boldly charge, And send them to look out at large. As Underlings they act our parts, While we study the Curious Arts.

We can do more with a Words speaking, Than they with all their pains in seeking. We cut out, they do the rest, They are but our Apes at best.

We conquer and get the Day, They carry all the Credit away. Sic vos non vobis fertis aratra Boves, Sic vos non vobis vellificatis Oves. When all comes to all, you Men are dull, A great Cry, but a little Wool. All the Wit is on our side, But you Men take all the Pride.

Mira vox aures me as percrepuit, Factum valet Fieri non debuit. The Man was hang'd wrongfully for good and all, 'Tis well done, tho it should not have been done at all. The Man's turn'd out of Home and House, Lands, Goods and Chattels, and's not worth a Lowse. He must bear it now 'tis done, The Constable cannot be out-run.

In a dark stormy Night, what hope? My Life and Estate lies at the end of a Rope. Save me from the Turk and Pope, And Land me at the Cape of good Hope. I had rather be knockt o'th' head at the Altar, Than basely to dye like a Dog in a Haltar. Hearken well what the New Law saith, Pay Debts by Debenturs or Publick Faith.

Panormitan, Hottoman, Bartolus, Wesembeck, Godofred, joyn to Cajole us.

Navar, Duns, Covar••dvias School us, Masters of Sentences befool us. When cold they can heat us, when hot they can cool us. The Doctors, be the Case good or bad, Can make Clients merry, or sad. Ma•••• them sober, or make them mad, St. Thomas of Aquine was a pretty Lad.

St. Thomas of Becket was a man of great Fame, But Aristotle was the Cock of the Game. A Company of Witches shall get the Day, Rout 'um, and make 'um all run away. Infatuate 'um, besot 'um and blind 'um. And make 'um leave all their Wits behind 'um. Every Bufflehead and Pickeroon, Gets him a Name, and lyes a Bed till Noon; As Famous as the Man in the Moon.

The Man of the Dwarfs or Giants Statures, The Man of two Names, and the Man of two Na∣tures. You need not for Lawyers and Schoolmen call, For we know as much as the best of 'um all. Intelligent Spirits are the Masters that teach us, In nothing but Law can you over-reach us. 'Tis that Letter alone that strikes us dead, Tho all the Arguments we knock on the head.

By murdering Weapons, for want of good Rea∣sons, You may make what you please Felonies or Trea∣sons. So when a Cuckold is Cornuted, Send him to the Hangman to be confuted,

Your Tutors can never be so wise, or so good, Because they, at the best, are but Flesh and Blood. They understand by clear Intuitions, You fetch a Compass by blind Propositions.

If a Thief in the Way that is called High, For a Purse of Gold makes me Promise or Dy•••• Must I perform it, Tell me the Reason why? You say a Nude Pact's of no more force than a Lye. And yet I am bound my Gold to bring, As if it were the Word of a King; Will Reason allow of any such thing?

You say, Fallere fallentem non est Fraus, But Honesty forbids such a Cause. For I must not Cheat, tho I be cheated, But I may defeat, rather than be defeated; I hope my Promised Gold is not Escheated. I presume, if I have any Skill, A forced Will, is no Will, Especially, if you threaten me to kill.

When Questions are put for matter of Fact, Should we not mind the Justice of the Act? Should only Custom and Prescription, Make good or bad against Jurisdiction? How are wise Men out in this Cause, When Wrongs are done contrary to Laws? And yet because done, in this Case, The Fact before the Right takes place.

Farewel then all that's good and just, When wicked Customs prevail must. Is it enough, because they are acted? Then bad need ne're be retracted.

Then all past Evils may keep their station, Then there needs be no Reformation. Let Wrongs be still, say they, for hear ye. We must not Quieta movere.

To remove Dun Thiefs take no care, For fear of Infecting the Air. Leave the Sick to dye amain, For fear you should put them to pain, Or for fear they should come again. Take no Physick, 'swage no Tumors, For fear of stirring the Humors. For fear of Surfets leave eating or drinking, Use no Close-stool, for fear of stinking.

If this be Honest, or good Sense, In Arts I never will Commence. Farewel for ever studying Laws, If we must make so many Flaws. And whatsoever Wrong is done, It shall be made right at the Long run. How can that, that ne're was True, Be made True? Give every thing its due. A Spade's a Spade, all's Right or Wrong, Else all we say, or do, is but a Song.

There are more Leaden Lesbian Rules, Usual in Courts and Schools. Distinctions without difference, Sentences, Proverbs without Sense. Juvenile Wits they make quick, But mature Judgments downright sick. But the old driveling doating Dunces, Will never leave their old Mumpsimusses.

For want of sound Argumentation, Even Laws fail of a good Foundation. Where right Reasoning is wanting, The idle Smatterers fall a Canting: But we are of a clearer mind, Our Intellects far more refin'd. As for our Wills, we'l have the Day, Tho by never so much foul Play.

We plead best Right from first Possession, Time out of mind, 'tis our Profession. We had it first, call it not Fury, Qui prior est tempore, potior est Jure. Upon our Bounds you make Invasions, We'l be reveng'd on all occasions. Dolus malus, mala Fides, So the Devil gets up and Rides; And so we pull down all their Prides.

Our Female Tempers have no more Malice, Than will fill Flagon or Chalice. And for profound Understanding, In Obeying or Commanding. For all exactest Regulation, None compare with our Corporation. Your Laws are always turning and winding, Our Charms are Everlastingly binding.

No Devils endure more Blows, No Carrions can kill Crows. Alas! Men are but a Blast, All our Generations last. Where are the old Sects of Plato, Zeno, Aristotle, Gato?

They quickly marched o're the Stall, But we out-live the Devil and all.

We never flatter, give us but scope, Nothing stops us, but a Rope. O this ugly Hemp withstands our Spell, Sends us, before our time, to Hell. We conjure all things, but that Grass, The basest Plant that ever was. So true it is, Contra vim Mortis, Non est Medicamen in Hortis.

This ugly Hemp's a worser Weed, Than Colchis, or Thessalick Breed. So may a Mouse destroy a Boar, A Cock make a Lion roar. A Sword Fish conquer a Whale, A well stretcht Haltar will never fail. We bear swimming, scratching, banging, Endure every thing, but hanging.

The Judge pronounceth Right, they say, Tho it be Wrong; How or which way? A Blot's no Blot till it be hit, 'Tis neither Honesty nor Wit. A Fiction's taken for Truth, they say, A Ship in Cheapside's cast away. Possession is twelve Points of Law, 'Tis like the prating of a Jack-Daw; And thus Fools are kept in Aw.

A Promise naked, without a Consideration, Is Conscience of the newest fashion. A Servant's dead and hath no Will, Such a Lawyer hath no Skill.

They are Fools that Reason thus, Communis Error facit Jus. He that confesseth must be hang'd, He that denies shall be but bang'd.

Inheritances must not ascend, I pray, Then hang poor Parents out of the way. To what Absurdities will you hale us? Semel malus semper praesumitur esse malus. There is a saying that we have, Once a Knave, and ever a Knave. It is a Saying of the Devil, Once Evil, and ever Evil. It is a Saying of Robin-Hood, Once good, and ever good.

When will Follies have an End, If that which is bad can never mend? 'Tis a Saying of as good Delivery, Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit vivere. Vox Populi, vox Dei; How so? Then they may let all Truth go.

If Husband live within four Seas, The Wife may play Whore as she please. 'Tis a Saying but to half, He that keeps the Cow must keep the Calf. He needs no Cow, says pretty Jenny, That can have a penny worth of Milk for a Penny. Fallere Fallentem, non est Fraus, Fallere Clientem, non est Laus.

At this Rate the World's undone, The Mother must not breed the Son.

If a Rogue Swears to a Lye, The honestest Man in the World must dye. Twelve Godfathers, good Men and True, Give or take from every Man his due. Infallible is a Parliament, And which is more, Omnipotent.

Lords and Lands must pay no Debts, Alas! The justest Law that ever was. The Timber-Trees may walk there stanches, From Title, their Bodies excuse their Branches: Wills Nuncupate, at second hand, By no means can convey Land: A Souldier's Will may, tho wrote in Sand, For a Priviledg'd Will shall stand.

A Murderer may fly to an Altar, But a Thief must not miss a Haltar. Stop Thief, he is undone, Let the cruel Murderer run. Steal a Horse, it is a Rape, Steal a Man you shall escape. I never heard a Reason, why A man that cannot Read should dye.

I may not cheat a Private man, But rob the Common wealth all I can. My Shipwrackt Goods, I claim no more, Because the Sea brought them ashore. If in the Ship be Dog or Cat, I may challenge them for that. What if by chance there should be Mouse or Rat, I must lose them for all that.

If Servant steals, he may be bang'd, If Stranger robs, he must be hang'd. You may not presume to Arrest A Debtor, in his own Nest. It is his Castle, let him lye, Tho Creditor for want must pine and dye: Or least the Debt you should retrench, He'l put himself into the Kings-Bench, Drink Sack there; or to the Indies Sail; Such Payments will never fail.

When Justice is for none a Factor, Why is Reus favour'd more than Actor? That Janus's Rule was made to vex, Salus Populi suprema Lex. Would these Sages strike us blind, How can a forced Promise bind?

Is there no Reason left behind. For all men to use in their kind? Prophets and Lawyers of State, Obtrude any thing at any Rate; So all things come to pass by Fate. Except Aristotle's Brain Universal Learning should contain; I am sure we are all couzened in the main,

What's Ipse dixit to me, Take it for a He or She▪ If with Reason it can't agree? Aristotle for a time's my Friend, But the Truth to the World's End. Those Scholars are in their Minority, That prove all by Authority.

That do all their work by Samples, Leave Laws, live only by Examples. Then Trunk Britches, Vardingals, Ruffs, Pickadillo's come up, with double Cuffs.

Why should a dead Corps be Arrested? Keep him till the Cause be Attested: Let him be sure put in good Bail, Or send him forthwith to the Gaol: And when he is gone to the Pot, Let him pay the Debt, or let him Rot. 'Twill put Creditors to the Frets, To have such Payments of Debts.

A Farmer as freely pay Tithes, As he would pluck out his Eyes. Hercules kept Heathens in Aw, Made them pay Tithes by Club-Law. Against Tithes there's no Prescription, But they may be cut off by Composition. 'Tis a rare Effatum of Ferdinandi, 'Tis a good Modus Decimandi.

In Books strong Reasons you may see, Tithes are new born, a Lay-Fee. Or if you'l have it more at large, You may count them a Rent-Charge. The Templars or Cistercian Rout, Ravisht all Tithing at one Bout. I look upon Momus, that sate in a Corner, As a pitiful Mopus Informer, A Law Jyppo, a Hang by Retainer, Ever complaining, but never a Gainer.

It is the Common Law Conditions, To haunt Courts Christian with Prohibitions. Are you a Smock Sinner, or so, Commute soundly, and you shall be let go. Fee Ogg the great Comissary before and behind, Then Sin on, you know my mind: To Females, all Males must be kind, But Poor Whores no favour find.

Norfolk Swains, that drive the Cows, Whistle Littleton at their Plows. Essoins, Withernams, Vouches, Recapia's, are stuffed in Leathern-Slowches. The Salick Law is a rare Tool, Excludes Females from all Rule. Let no-Woman Fee Inherit, Because in Wars they cannot Merit.

As freely Father goes to the Bow, As the Son handles the Plow. From the Females, or Heirs Male, A Fine past, cuts off the Entail. For a Recovery you may Rail, No stopping a Ship under Sail. Pantomimi Histriones, Wizards Egregii Nebulones.

Vox Populi, vox Dei, 'tis confest, Is as True as all the rest. A Populo ad Regem. Modus & Conventio vincunt Legem. It drives Shopkeepers into Nets, When Priviledg'd men must pay no Debts. Anaxarchus had the heart of a Porter, That could endure to be bray'd in a Mortar.

Customs of contrary Feature, Should they be call'd a Second Nature? To say this Point is Law, is in dark to grope, Unless it agree with the whole Scope. From Truth how can Falshood come? Or Lyes harbour in Truths Room? If all are inevitable Fate, All Good or Bad's quite out of Date.

Whether it be fair or just, Men, more than Brutes, continual Lust? How does Reason rule the Rost. When Lasciviousness rides Post? They couple only for a Brood, Men for every wanton Mood. They take their times for Generation, Men at all times without Moderation.

What Witches were at the taking of Troy? Fair Helena stole by the Roaring Boy. Paris was that unlucky Toy, Both fit to be call'd, the Witches Joy. Two contrary Parties, Hallow Boys, Hallow, Jupiter in Troiam pro Trojâ stabat Apollo.

'Tis good, well sung in Catches or Canto's, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Which with a Pipe of Smoke to blow to, Is Dimidium plus Toto. 'Tis time to bid your Companions be gone, The Farthest about's the nearest way home. The Whole is greater than the Part, That's safe; But the Contrary, Thou lyest Ralph.

Every Effect hath a Cause. There should be Reason in all Laws. Clerks, if you rightly apprehend 'um, Hold Dignities in pure Commendam. 'Cause men of Parts cannot be found, (While they are living) above ground. No harm for Wrong done shall come near ye, Idem est non esse & non apparere.

A Minor acts not without a Tutor, An old Incumbent hath a Coadjutor. And a Mistress hath a Suitor. Status Naturae, status Belli, Is worse than Cock-broth in Gelly. Jus unicuique ad omnia, O rare, Look out sharp, the World's a great Fare.

Nothing's good, but wha'ts Commanded, Why should any man be hang'd or branded? Nothing's bad, but whats Forbidden, Let Thieves and Rogues do as they're bidden. It should seem by all these Flaws, Definitions are dangerous in Laws. Go and be bound, and pay the Debt, You're just taken in a Net; I am all in a Sweat.

Come hang Laws, they that have Brains, To know or do them will take no pains; For to be sure, they'l get no gains. And they have many unlucky Strains, For they keep us all in Chains. 'Tis better to be free, and then We may be said to live like Men.

Reason of State, Reason of Law, Right or Wrong keeps all in Aw.

Trust no Man, if you would live brave, Keep a good Word for a Knave. Oblige all the World, please every Man, By hook or by crook, Catch that catch can. Study Men more than Books, That will make you gentile Rooks.

Get a Picklock for the Law, To open every Crevise and Flaw. Get Pincers and a lusty Screw, To wrest from every Man his due. Where Rocks are, get Axes and Hammers, Spades, Pickaxes and Rammers. Let all your Implements be ready, And be sure to hold your hand steady. Look big, stand all in your Robes, Like a Conqueror of both Globes. From you every Line or Word, Cuts more than a Two-handed-Sword.

Truth must not be spoke, you say at all times, The way to huddle up the basest Crimes. To be an Informer, is thought a Disgrace, Then how shall Capital Laws take place? Never of any Tale-bearer tell, Tho you love me never so well. But if I get a Friend in a Corner, He will tell me the false Informer.

He that is an Inventor of Lyes, By him many an Innocent dyes, Deserves to be made a Sacrifice.

For shall not the good Law punish him sore, And not suffer him to live, to kill any more? Is it not good for the Common-weal, To reward him that shall Felons reveal?

Is he my Friend that will see me misus'd, Or behind my back, not tell me by whom I'am a∣bus'd? Consider this Case better, and try, And do as you would be done by. 'Tis come to a fine pass, you'l say, when Witches with Maces, Authoritatively must Resolve Conscience-Cases. For this call us no more Brazen Faces, Nor load us with foul Disgraces; We understand some Common Places.

Marcus his Scholars loosely taught, That tho by all kind of Vice debaucht: Yet no more tainted by these ugly Steams, Than are by Dunghils the Suns Beams.

Sesostris was first Institutor of Fees, To Souldiers he gave the best Aegyptian Lees. He fed them and taught them all in Warring, And by this Tye restrain'd them from Jarring. They must keep strict to Military Art, From which Mechanicks might never depart. And to preserve Families from falling, The Son must be of his Father's Calling.

And so a Captain, as well as a Cook, His Father's Profession ne're forsook, If he dye, for his Inheritance he might go look. 'Twere good, if Scholars were so kept to their Book, But our Laws would never this Custom Brook.

To Souldiers and Priests so much good Land, Preserv'd them close to the Kings Command, Better than the old Praetorian Band.

He also freed them from Taxes and Gabels, Whose Names were listed in Warlike Tables. So much Bread and Flesh he daily did award, To all the Yeomen of his Guard. They served their Master, the rather, Because he was their Foster Father. Nomus Thebaeus assign'd to Regiments, Panopolitus, or Chemnitus all in their Tents.

Turk to this day prosecutes the same Intents, For Love and Gratitude strong Arguments. So Janizaries and Timariots, Are hindred from Rebellious Plots. The Roman Agrarian Law, Kept Souldier and People all in Aw. The Linotrophi, not for Name, With the Feudatories were much the same. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 divided into Nomi Pannels, Betwixt Nilus and Ostia Channels.

A wise Lady was once in hope, To get License from the Pope. For Women, as well as Men, to hear Confessions, Resolve Cases and pardon Transgressions, His Holiness his Answer did delay, And bid her wait till such a day: And gave her a Box, to bring with her own hand, But not to open it by strict Command.

The good Lady and her Sisters all glad, But to open the Box were stark mad.

Much ado, they venture to open't at last, And out flew a rare Fly, all so fast. The Lady returns to deliver her Charge, But no Fly, for which she was chid at large: How could she be trusted with Souls Secrecy, That could not be faithful in keeping a Fly? And so this vain Motion did dye.

Manzers and Slaves had no Prohibition, From any Incestuous Coition; Because they were of a vile Condition, They were never taken upon Suspicion. No Matrimony 'mongst them, no Possession, Not free of any Profession. Tho ne're so nobly born or bred, To all Rights they must be dead.

Did this Curse come from Cham, Or from the Devil and his Dam? Or is it not a mere Sham? Most contrary to Nature's stand, To be made Brutes, to be unman'd. 'Tis well Man and Wife are sure to hold, That were by Rome's Law bought and Sold.

'Tis a Rul'd Case in Bardish Rhimes, Truth must not be spoke at all times. The like for Punishment of all Crimes, Such Laws would run well with Chimes. 'Twill rise high, when 'tis upon the Fretts, There shall be no time for paying of Debts. Patriarchs were no Judges, but Doctors, In those days when no Courts with Attorneys or Pro∣ctors. Punishments were by War, not Law, The Sword, no Word, kept all in Aw.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Aes Alienum quando Remittitur, Acceptilatio in Lege dicitur. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, shakes off the Onus, Vsuram non facit vir bonus. ‘ We Withces, no body will own us, ‘ If we fall, no body will bemean us.

Stepsiades brought a Thessalian Hag, To shut up the Moon in a Box or a Bag. To excuse Debtors from paying their Fine, Because no Proof that the Moon does shine, This was never no Practise of Mine. Usurers reckoned, every Night and Noon, To the coming of the New Moon. A Burning-Glass to scorch a Letter, In Court, to disprove a Deed the better.

Culpam in Jovem rejicias, Say 'twas the Gods, not you that were Vicious, Try, if for that they will be Propitious. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, where's all your Law, If in an Indictment they find such Flaw. 'Twas 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, And her own Self, Madam 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Choak'um with this Bolus at last, Try, if they can recover in haste.

If thou beest a Thief or Unchaste, The Gods did as much, Let them be Cast. Nay, they decreed me to do so, and more, I cannot be guilty therefore; It must be put upon the Score.

For I was forc't behind and before, Let no Serjeant come near my door. Gods hid themselves in Caves and Groves, To prosecute Murders and vilest Loves.

Why then, if Mortals commit such Rapes, May they not plead, as just Escapes. Curse us Witches be sure, Bite our Noses, Et Conspergitis nos Rosis. Son prov'd it just, to beat his Father, if wild, Because he beat him, when he was a Child. Socrates taught him to come off, With Bis Pueri Senes, a Scoff.

He made 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 a Clause, For an Inferiour and Superiour Cause. Lawyer like, 'twas very sad, A bad Cause good, or a good Cause bad. Apollo his Malice could not smother, Urging Orestes to kill his Mother. For which the poor Soul complains, He was clearly left in the Lurch for his pains.

But the Conscious Numen made him amends, Made him and Menelaus Friends. Repair'd his Throne for his own Ends. Never learn Justice from Jove above, Nor Chastity from the God of Love. Socrates but one Supreme Power own'd, For which like a Fool he had like t'have been Ston'd. But by favour that he might swallow no more, They wo'd him to drink Hellebore.

This frighted Aristotle and Plato, Seneca, Cicero, and Cato.

The Country Gods must not be deny'd, When once the Senate had them Cry'd. The Poets were all Rogues, in the Letter, They spake W••rs, but understood better; Apollo was a good Bone-Setter.

‘ Now I have my Cu, and I must come in, ‘ For me and mine, to prove there can be no Sin. ‘ Tho in Wickedness you be up to the Chin, ‘ Never complain, go through thick and thin. ‘ Over Shoes and over Boots, ‘ Pluck up Liberty by the Roots.

‘ In Witches, such as we be, ‘ Cause we are forc't by a Decree. ‘ I am of Opinion, as such, ‘ We can ne're play Rogues or Whores too much. ‘ I am afraid of a Rod, ‘ If I take in Vain the Name of God.

‘ The Chain of Fates is so wonderful strong, ‘ Against our Wills drives us all along. ‘ We try sometimes, but all's but a dream, ‘ There's no striving against the Stream. ‘ There's a violent Motion, above our own, ‘ Whereby our free Actions are all overthrown.

‘ Tis in vain to use a Lanthorn and Candle, ‘ When we take up Things with a wrong Handle. ‘ We talk of Free-will at a monstrous high Rate, ‘ But all's over-rul'd by Fortune or Fate; ‘ Nothing can Post or Antidate. ‘ Things must be, it seems, as they must be, ‘ Do your best or your worst, all's Destiny.

‘ Puppets above dance nimbly and skip, ‘ But the Hand below takes 'um upon the Hip; ‘ If the Ass be lazy come up with a Whip. ‘ It must come to pass all you do or say, ‘ But the clean contrary way. ‘ All this is Deceptio Visûs, ‘ The Wires below makes all the Devices.

‘ Alas, Alas! we're all in a Dream, ‘ When we think 'tis Whey, 'tis Curds and Cream. ‘ We are mistaken in every Theme, ‘ There is a Mote in the clearest Sun Beam. ‘ The Wind drives the Ship, and the Water the Mill, ‘ Paint what you can't will be a Rose still. ‘ If Blood be spilt, tho you do not kill, ‘ 'Twill be Manslaughter do what you will.

‘ For none of us have Wit at will, ‘ Pour in the Wines, the Pot must fill. ‘ Wrong must be done, and the Wronger shall gain, ‘ Ne're put the Conscience to too much pain. ‘ The man is dead, but he was not slain, ‘ Every way turn to and again. ‘ An Honest man must endure the smart and the loss, ‘ No body wrong'd him, 'twas his Cross.

‘ Never cry nor roar, Poor Baby, ‘ Sorte tuâ Contentus Abi. ‘ There's a Lottery, wipe your Eyes, ‘ Ten thousand Blanks for one Prize. ‘ Venter you may, live or dye, ‘ 'Tis but the turning of a Dye. ‘ Whatever haps, if you be wise, ‘ Forbear Murmurs, Tears or Cries.

‘ For all you do or suffer, there are Spyes, ‘ Few tell Truths, and most speak Lyes; ‘ I can't endure to think of Sacrifice. ‘ 'Tis an idle, needless thing, ‘ To tye an Ox to an Altars Ring. ‘ The harmless Beast must rost and fry, ‘ Because I deserve to dye. ‘ And for telling of a Lye, ‘ I'le be judg'd by the Standers by.

‘ I had spoke Truth, I'le try, by my Troth, ‘ 'Tis either good, or bad, or both. ‘ 'Twas the Lot that was own'd then, in good Sooth. ‘ If it be bad, and better haps, ‘ It is your good luck, Boys throw up your Caps; ‘ But have a care of After-claps. ‘ Hallow Boys, one and all, ‘ We shall either Rise or Fall.

‘ Never bemoan Man, never be sad, ‘ We shall have a living, a good or a bad. ‘ Whatever it be, once it will fall, ‘ Nothing venture nothing have, the Devil take all.

‘ Why then should any just Laws be us'd, ‘ When Good or bad can't be chose, or refus'd, ‘ And still no body can be abus'd. ‘ I'le sin out my Sin, if it must be so, ‘ No Body knows which way 'twill go. ‘ But 'tis a hard Fate, to be forc't to do Evil, ‘ And for that, to be forc't to go to the Devil. ‘ In vain then to Cry or Snivel, ‘ To blow Meat, the Butcher must have a Scyvel.

‘ I'le take no more care then, I'le do what I please, ‘ I shall have Trouble, or I shall have ease. ‘ But still do or suffer, there's no Body minds me, ‘ Yet still some Body stands behind me. ‘ I move like a Puppet to and fro, ‘ And know not whether I move or no. ‘ The Satyr blows hot and cold, ‘ 'Tis all alike to young and old.

‘ When Waters are crost with a contrary Wind, ‘ The Ship is tost before and behind, ‘ It should then either stop or stay, ‘ Or be mov'd to a contrary way. ‘ There's Will, or no will, Reason or none, ‘ Then leave me to my self alone, ‘ And I'le leave 'um now to pick this Bone. ‘ If I thought I were not a Witch or a Whore, ‘ I should never endure my Self any more.

They come off with a Certiorari, Res noluit male Administrari. 'Tis no Thanks to the Administrators, When they themselves are the Judge Arbitrators. 'Tis long of their Causes in these Cases, That puts things thus all out of their Places. 'Tis much to Wise mens Disgrace, That dare Reason so much deface.

In vain they hope to be Excus'd, When Reason is by Reason abus'd, And against all Reason refus'd. They that have given the deadly Draught, Tho it kill not, 'tis naught, 'tis naught. These men to true Reason will ne're be brought, The Reason is, they are better fed than taught.

‘ I know better than so, the unlucky Bird sings, ‘ 'Tis true, nor do I believe such Gins, ‘ That screw my Soul to worser things. ‘ In plain terms, 'tis to deny ‘ Justice, and all Deity. ‘ And therefore such false Rules I defie, ‘ The fault is my own, I deserve to dye.

‘ I am a Witch, I tell you the Reason why, ‘ Because I did wilfully Vertue deny. ‘ 'Tis neither better nor worse, ‘ I have justly invok'd my Curse. ‘ 'Tis in vain to use any more Discourse, ‘ Set the Saddle on the right Horse.

‘ Alas, some Sciolists do but prate, ‘ 'Tis just as the Stars would ha't. ‘ We are all bewitcht, when plain Bitchery, ‘ Is called Conjuring, or Witchery. ‘ The Dog (they say) excuses the smell, ‘ The Lady is perfum'd very Well: ‘ But the Toad Cur stinks like Hell. ‘ For Right Reason ring out the Bell, ‘ There's many such a Develish Spell.

Thieves, Murderers, Witches, Burn'um, Stone'um, De Mortuis nil nisi Bonum. Gavelkind Land, de Haereditate dividendâ, To younger Brothers, Familia Erciscenda. ‘ Take your Conge, make your Leg, ‘ To them that have brought you to Beg. ‘ If you be of a good Constitution, ‘ Rob all you can, and make no Restitution, ‘ Take all good Turns, and make no Retribution.

‘ Do all Harm, ther's no Prohibition, ‘ All fare alike, there's no Praeterition.

‘ Will you call an Eunuch chaste, ‘ Or him Patient, that's ty'd in Fetters fast? ‘ Had Bajazet no Tyrant Rage, ‘ 'Cause shut up in an Iron Cage? ‘ A Lion may be a Lamb at these rates, ‘ Because he is shut up in Grates, ‘ So is good or bad by force of Fates.

Where sits the Legislative Power, Ruling in his Majestick Tower? In the Noble or Vulgar Race, In the Prince or Populace? Kings do Jus facere & Jus dare, Judges Jus dicere, I'le Swear ye. Did the high Power of Life and Death, From the lowest Root take breath?

What Supremacy is in the Feet? When, or where could all the World meet? Tribunes, Ephori represent, Who knows the Multitudes Intent? 'Tis a few Pragmatical Squires, That Rule Publick Desires, Kindle, not quench Everlasting Fire. These Lead the Vulgars by the Nose, And do all Business under the Rose. Who then shall Rebellions compose? Factions or Seditions disclose?

A Coblar cries, Mio non Consento, Il Popôlo non Contento.

The Mobile swells all in Waves, And are driven by Fools and Knaves; 'Til they make themselves Slaves, And go all Beggars to their Graves. But when good Princes have their Will, By Gods Laws, 'tis Freedom still. So the Rabble is befool'd, To Rule, and be over-rul'd.

But when Supremacy is lodg'd In One or Few, the Rout is dodg'd. They'l cheat themselves, and be cheated, 'Til all there Madness be defeated. From themseves they can't Appeal, Where is then their Common-weal? Who does Liberty from them steal?

When they Rage, Murmur and Grudge, Who shall Moderate or Judge? When they Head all in a Riot, What Power shall the Tumult quiet? If all croud to steer at the Helm, The Vessel needs must overwhelm. Who is able to Rule alone, When all shall rush upon the Throne?

When all on Power make Intrusion, It must needs produce Confusion. All are Slaves, when all Command, Who can Obedience understand? Status Belli & Status Naturae, Each to his Fellow is a Fury; None can be tryed by a Jury.

Il Popôlo is a Wide Ring, Dance in a Circle's an endless thing. Ʋnicuique Jus ad omnia, Quare, Get what you can I'le ne're spare ye. And if I prove the Better Man, I'le get all agen from you, if I can. If you invade your Neighbours Lands. He'l fight you upon Calice Sands: And then where are your Demands? Your Right on a ticklish Bottom stands.

Anacreon refus'd five Talents of Gold, By Polycrates given him, and told, That for Cares he would not be sold. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Deserv'd the Title 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Another greater Fool than He, Threw all his Wealth into the Sea. But few such Fops this day we see, Yet Fools flock to good Company.

They say, De Mortuis nil nisi Bonum, Thieves and Murderers never stone 'um. Do all mischief live or dead, Expect not to be punished, Nor so much as mentioned. Why then should Vertue be rewarded, If Vice must not be regarded? These are simple, silly Themes, The Off-spring of idle Dreams.

Burn all Histories to Ashes, Call Plutarch, Tacitus and Livy, Flashes. For daring to record the Doom Of Tyrants, in Greece or Rome.

Call Domitians, and Nero's, After their deaths brave Cavalero's. He that flatters, living and dead, Now is the Man that is best bred.

Of Salick Law Women complain, 'Cause it excludes Femal••s from Reign. To be reveng'd by Fascinations, They rule the Rulers of all Nations. Id tantùm fit, quod Jure fit, Is more Honesty, than Wit. By Flattery oblige Mankind, What true Return hope you to find?

If Fathers force their Daughters to fast From Husbands, till Twenty five be past: They may then take their own measure, Marry, and Repent at leisure. But the Father must part with his Treasure, Not at his own, but the Judges Pleasure.

Pone Legem, fill the Paw, This is Justice, this is Law: This is Cheats Clapper-claw, So they keep the World in Aw. Your Nose will be out of Socket, If wise, keep Mony in your Pocket. The Law is costly, no Trial, If you make the least Denial, You must pray, and pay and stay, And at last make shift to run away.

He that refuses Silver or Gold, Him for a Natural we hold.

He is wise, and ever was, That takes the Mony, and lets go the Ass. The poor Jade is rid amain, Pity him, put him out of his pain: When loaded, bid him come again, Just a Pettifoggers strain.

In short, I'le describe the Condition, Of the Bloody Spanish Inquisition. The Prison resembles exactly well, All the Cruelties of Hell. After Seven years Incarceration, In Chains, and goods Confiscation. The Judgment passes in dark Rooms, Like Vaults of Death in Charnel Tombs. No Accusers are ever shewn, Nor must Witnesses be known.

The Prisoner with Fools Cap and Mitred Crest, Green Taper, Sambenito Vest: Mounts a Theatre, where stands an Altar, Priest with Cross, Hangman with Haltar. The Lords Inquisitors sit on high, The Bishop and Chapter hard by. The Magistrates and Nobles next, The Bloody Preacher takes a Text. To justifie all the Proceedings, Of Whips and Racks, and fatal Bleedings.

‘ After all this, why are Women Witches ‘ Cry'd out on more than Dogs or Bitches. ‘ All the World of us do ring. ‘ Only this Hanging's such a thing. ‘ It makes us shrug for not Confessing, ‘ It comes sometimes as far as Pressing.

‘ Or for want of Right turning, ‘ Oftentimes it comes to burning.

‘ Are there no other Witches then? What are Wizards, but Witches Men? ‘ Cunning. Wisemen, Magicians, ‘ And by Laws, Mathematicians. ‘ Augurs, Sorcerers of old▪ ‘ Pontiffs, Flamens, Priests I'm told. ‘ We are Mistresses of Reason. ‘ And Wit, for Felony and Treason.

‘ We only frisk it fine and neat, ‘ Ready for every unlucky Feat. ‘ We are the Active Party, Men are Lubbars, ‘ Dozing at home, like lazy Scrubbars. ‘ A Female Eagle is the Bird most brave, ‘ The Male's a drunken sottish Slave, ‘ And so all Birds of Prey may be, ‘ For any thing that I can see.

‘ So for Witchcraft the World doth find, ‘ The Women are the Noblest kind. ‘ I look you should send me to make Pudding Pyes, ‘ For telling so many Lyes. ‘ Choose for your Love, and buy for your Mony, ‘ There is good Ale at the Sign of the Cony. ‘ Sturbridge Fair, Canterbury Tales, ‘ Sung all over England, Scotland, and Wales. ‘ At last we are crowded all into Gaols, ‘ And hung up by the Crags upon Pales.