The second part of The nights search, discovering the condition of the various fowles of night, or, The second great mystery of iniquity exactly revealed with the projects of these times : in a poem / by Humphrey Mill, author of The nights search.

SECT. II.

The Centinells, the Drunkards note, One cuts his hat and burns his coat: Two Devills would de file abride, And two to lust by coyne are tide: Exchange of Pimps, a harlot shent, A fooles conceit, the whores intent, A counter-greeting of the store, How to his friend, one lends his whore.

THe world now hung with black, my charge begun; The Western Seas had swallow'd down the sun:

But Heavens tapers then began to light, Which did by turnes attend the Queene of night; The skie was all enamell'd (in my view) With glittring Diamonds, all the panes were blue.

But straight the clouds those riches did disgrace; For everie heavenly torch did hide his face. The sable stormes arose, proud winds grew high, Which blew my candle out: Alas, said I, My task is heavie! here's a hard beginning! Must I returne, and leave the harlots sinning? My Muse will never brook it; all the best Are lockt with th'leaden keyes to quiet rest, Their mantles darknesse; all their braines do steep In watrie humours, being rockt asleep With rough-breath'd lullabies. I held my tongue, But hop'd the best: such tempests are not long.

Some thriving Bawd, that's newly turn'd a witch, Or else her father Daemon (think you which) Hath rais'd this blast from Hell, congeal'd with spite, To stop my course, and spoyle my search to night: Or else some Calve-skin Pander, for a spell, To keep the doore, hath sold himselfe to Hell: And this the breath of triumph. But I must Go now in hast, to over-look my trust.

I from the Centre went, to see how far My charge extended; then a twinekling star Broke prison through the clouds: the backer doore Was open set, and out came divers more: The lower gates were open'd for the Queene, Where in their offices the Sparks were seeve.

The lesser lights of Heaven stirr'd my fire: Oh! heaven-borne patience! thee I must admire) Which warm'd my breast. Now, now my care begins,

I spie an Army clad with severall sins: But they disperse themselves, the Front for feare Turnes back in hast, to fall behind the Reare: The Files observe no distance, and the Ranks Are out of order, firing in the Flanks, Will end their service: for the Wings are fled, Or chang'd to Scouts. See, who goes there in red?

A scarlet Drunkard? Strength hath made him weak, He reeling railes about, yet cannot speak. His brains are like his guts, you need not feare His wit; for he has none, but garbidge there: Though he be three parts drown'd; yet this I know. H'as a fire that is unquencht, he's burnt below. He has been feasted by a man of note, Who burnt his hat for joy, and shot his coat, To make him welcome. Tom o' Bedlams grace! They drank the hogshead out, to take his place.

Then by and by appear'd before mine eyes, Two earth-borne Devills of the largest size, Shap'd just like men, and cover'd o're with skin, They broke a doore quite downe; and rushing in Vpon a Bride-groome, with his faithfull Bride, (Who lying like a Turtle by his side) Would faine have ravisht her; for they did think 'Thad been a Cell, through which there was a fink, Which older Devils made, first to convay Their ordure into hell a nearer way.

From hence they go unfurnisht of a whore, Crying, Confound us, we mistook the doore.

Then Next to them c••me ruffling on, whose haire Hung downe almoft a yard, being rich and faire In his apparrell; he was kept so high, And pamper'd like a Bore within a stie: His pockets full, which made him much rejoyce, His sputs were off, because they had a voyce. I follow'd on, to understand his bent, A chamber doore being open, in he went; Where was a powder'd Ape, as full of lust, As Spiders are of poyson, graves of dust. They intermixt their sins, to purchase shame, He had his golden fee, then out he came.

I met another of a lower breed, He's like a common Bull; his wife agreed, To let him out for halfe a Crowne a week, Who undertakes he shall not be to seek, When any Queane is salt, and cannot have A Cur, to give her what her lust will crave: The Bawd that entertaines 'em, for her paines, From the insatiate whore hath double gaines; Or coupling in the corners of the street, She saves a fee; so Dogs and Bitches meet.

I went on still, and spi'd two Blades together, One was in Frize, the other clad in Leather: The first was bred in Wales; the other, he Came newly from the Vniversitie: His words are not his owne; yet, full of Art, As in pra••senti is his owne by heart.

They're bare and pennilesse: and this was it Had made them Poets, had they had but wit. They'd take a whore up gratis. Frize was vext; Pimp thou for me, said Leather, Ile pimp next.

But coming by a Hall, I saw the wine Passe to and fro in bowles, and for a signe They had a whore to hang, one brought her in (Which was a Gull) to tempt the rest to sin: She fawn'd upon 'em, she muft clip and kisse; One wiser than the rest perceiving this, Reprives her to the Bar, where she must bide To kisse the cup; and there her case is tride. She speaks her name in Welch; had they not grace, She would bewitch them with her smiling face. The Pimp that brought her in will make no stay, Can he be merrie while his Punck's away? When this was past, I forward went, and found A prating Mushroome, which would faine be crown'd For wittie deep conceits; and now and then He has applause amongst the worst of men. He speaks by patternes, being verie nice; And idlenesse in men, hee'll prove no vice. He makes his wife his slave, which God did make To be his fellow-helper, he will take Advantage to abuse her, fhe must do His servile drudgerie, yet cannot wooe From him a loving word, nor gentle look; I reckon'd him with men, but I mistook; They eat and lye apart, and still will he Maintaine she's only for necessitie.

He leave this busie pratler (never gripe) For like a medler he is rotten ripe.

Then I discri'd, a harlot caught a man To view her in the light: now if he can Let him avoyd the snare, the Pimp brings up His pots halfe full, that's common; let'em sup. I cannot ftay to watch'em, but a Saint Was on the signe without, in curious paint. I parted, saying thus, heaven sees your sin, A Saint without, but Devills are within:

I heard a noyse a Trull was counter-laid, Her fees for her enlargement must be paid, By that old Citie-whore: and now they meet, She askes her money in the open street; The other mou'd with spleenbegan to roare And in revenge she cri'd a whore, a whore. Thus crying out, she ran away apace, The old one's bolted in the young ones place.

But then my cares were with a voice opprest, The which to me was stranger then the rest: And yet he did but whisper this, out-right, Pray lend my master but your wench to night; (For his is out of towne) and he will be Engag'd t'your worfhip for the courtesie: He'l send is owne Sedan. Then he reply'd, He is my friend, he must not be deny'd.

I see my walke at length, I hope my braine May find more ease, as I returne againe; The Sun nere saw such things, the pale-fac't Moone Shrinks back with shame, my night is come too soone.

Darknesse it selfe is vailed with a maske, To hide her blush, I've undertook a taske Which none alive will second, that my Muse Sings out such theames, which other do refuse; The earth beares all, what springs from hell growes high, Th'ayre will not be infected, why should I? My soule abhores those things, of which I write, My Muse and I, are both confin'd to night. My search is but begun, I cannot ftay, My walking backe shall be another way.

Notes

• 2 devils
• A Lecher freed
• A poore Scholler
• A har∣lot.
• A borrow∣ed whore.