Pendragon, or, The carpet knight his kalendar

April's CANTO. (Book 4)

ARGUMENT.

The Knight takes little Ease and Pleasure With Thoughts of Madam, till he sees her. Cutbeard the Barber comes to shave him, Who some Account of Laurence gave him: And (Cutbeard having told him where) Knight finds the Lady out at Pray'r.

CANTO. (Book 4)

NOthing compleatly proves a Boon Without Alloy, beneath the Moon: Either the Cook, or Meat, or Sawce, Yields somewhat to disrelish us. The Curate's Tale, which struck the Knight At first with▪ Pleasure and Delight,

Afforded him Proportion equal Of Grief and Trouble in the Sequel: For Love, which enter'd like an Earwig, Teaz'd him on th' inside of his Perr'wig, And, like an Humble-Bee, it does Occasion mighty Hum and Buz.

He takes quick Turns about the Room; Then stopping short, t' himself cries, Hum! Am I a Man reputed Great For Learning, Loyalty, and Wit? Who Complements receive, and Pence, From People, Parsons, Peers, and Prince; Presents of Puddings, Pigs, and Pies, From kind Inhabitants o' th' Skies, Or more obliging mortal Dames, Who all conceal from me their Names: Variety of such Good Things Still one or other Porter brings, Tho' none of them will tell the Sign So much as of the Carrier's Inn.

I say, I, who have been carest So greatly, find my self distrest; Amidst a Multitude of Friends, I want to bring about my Ends; I want to know how, where, and when a Sight may be got of this Selena: Then I shall want as much to chat, And hold Discourse with the Prit-prat, To get Acquaintance more familiar, That I might play with her, and bill her, And bite, and pinch, and pull, and towze. But then reflecting, he cry'd Buz. The thinking on these wanton Tricks Puts me beside my Politicks, Makes Head to ake, and Heart to beat Confoundedly, like Drums i' th' Street. I can't divert my self alone I find, nor do as I have done. My Beard's grown long, which makes me fretful, Uneasie, peevish, and forgetful. Sirrah, (cry'd he to's Boy) go, fly, Fetch me the Barber presently.

A Body's fill'd with Discontents By nourishing ones Excrements. Our Grandsires sure were ne'er in very Good Humour, or extremely merry, Who wore such Beards, the hairy Fardle Were fit to tuck within their Girdle. Yet for the same we have no Reason To tax them of an Indiscretion, If Beards then bore a Price, and th' Hairs Thereof were Merchantable Wares.

Don Iohn de Castro sent and pawn'd A few of his, which rais'd a Fund Sufficient to re-build a Fortress; The Certainty of which Report is Confirm'd, for that his Grandson hid Them in a Crystal Pyramid, Set in a Silver Foot, or Basis, Engrav'd with Verse, which told the Praises Of the fam'd Action, and set forth No less that Noble Hero's Worth:

Which Relique his Posterity Preserves in Pious Memory.

Such Thoughts to th' Knight gave Recreation, When enters Cutbeard with a Bason, Who made low Bow, and having drawn An Elbow-Chair, the Knight sate down. While Barber gets all Things prepar'd For Circumcision of his Beard, And fitted Linen Cap to's Head, Pendragon hawk'd, and spat, and said, Dost know by Hear-say, or by Sight, A Clergy-man, one Laurence, (hight?) Yes, Sir, I knew him in this Town Some Years before he wore a Gown, When he appear'd a tearing Blade, And went most fashionably clad: I've sold him more than once or twice Long Wiggs of Eight or Ten Pounds price.

How, Cutty! (quoth Pendragon) prithee Go on; it seems h' as Dealings with thee.

Ay, (quoth the Barber, and he sobbs) He's in my Book for several Bobbs, And tells me, I shall ne'er be paid Till he's preferr'd, marry'd, or dead.

But, (quoth Sir Knight) let me request, What made him turn from Spark to Priest?

That same which has no Law for what. It does, and makes the Old Wife trot; Necessity, and want of Bread, Or rather want of Wine indeed: For Custom is a Second Nature, And he was never us'd to Water. Oh! with your Wit (quoth Knight) and Razor Together, you have cut my Face, Sir, I know not which of them's the sharper. I'm sorry for it, (quoth the Barber.) Your Worship smil'd, and so it were done By a Touch; I beg your Worship's Pardon.

It scarcely bleeds, and can't be seen; I'll cure it streight with Benjamin. Well, (quoth Sir Knight) if it don't bleed, Sans Ceremony pray proceed. Then Cutbeard: Sir, I know his Fortune Was large, before he made it shorten, Paid him in ready Cash, as soon As he attain'd to Twenty one, At least Three thousand Pounds of Sterling, So much was he an Uncle's Darling, Who rais'd a plentiful Estate From Wrangling and eternal Prate, And whileom had in's Life-time been A Bencher sage of Lincolns-Inn; Who kept a memorable Reading, For Nosegays, Pot-herbs, Law, and Feeding; Descended from the ancient famous Conveyancer, (hight) Ignoramus. But to the Nephew, Mr. Laurence, Altho' his Fortune was so fair once, He learn't at University To make no little part on't fly;

Where when his Wit and Humour ripe was, In's younger days, they made him Tripos; Renown'd for Bottle, and for Jest, He was at ev'ry Treat a Guest. Then taking leave of Alma Mater, He came (to learn the Cinque and Quatre) To Town, the Palm and Slurr to know, Tatt's, Doctor, Fulham's High and Low: Tho' all this Knowledge but increast His Sorrow much the more at last. Yet while he was the 'foresaid Blade, No Man more Reputation had For Wit, in all the Town, than he, And the fine Turn in Poetry; Whose Talent being less laborious, Became the Envy of old Laurus; Tho' many, with good Reasons, will Have it, they both pist in a Quill. But being a Man of various Fancies, And in at all Extravagances, In less than three Years Time, that I know, He made a Hand of ready Rhino,

And brought himself to worse than Nothing. At length, grown shabby in his Cloathing, When all th' Attendants on his Folly Were Want, and Rags, and Melancholy, And all the Hopes he had were vain ones, How to get rid of these Companions, Unless it were by means of Halter, Or flying to the Horns of th' Altar; Which Course he steer'd to cure moerores, Et nunquam sera ad bonos mores.

You've satisfy'd me, (quoth the Knight) A Wit's a perfect Het'roclite. None but sheer Wit could give Defeat With such Dispatch to an Estate. In thy Profession there was never So expeditious a Shaver, Who did's own Business quick and clear As thou hast mine, not left a Hair.

But, mark me; hast thou ever seen a Fair Lady, who is call'd Selena?

No, but I've heard Discourses somewhere Much of her Beauty and her Humour. Could not you get me Information Where 'tis she dwells, upon occasion? That I can eas'ly compass, Sir; It is not far from Westminster.

Then (quoth Pendragon) two days hence (Now the Spring-Season does advance, And the Sun's got so far in Taurus, Phlebotomy being needful for us) Here let me see your Face again; But come betimes, to spring a Vein. Mean while, you, like a trusty Trojan, Cannot forget the Lady's Lodging.

Cutbeard did every thing fulfil In time, according to his Will.

And now Pendragon having learn'd The Thing for which he was concern'd,

And got thereby a Wrinkle more About him than he had before; Knowing that this same Lady fair Went frequently to Morning-Pray'r, A Coach was call'd without delay, Which hurry'd him to Church away. His Boy being sent that very Hour To watch, and play about her Door, And mark her Motions, found her Chair And Men stood ready to convey her. Away they trotted to St. Martin's, Where tho she has no Place ascertain'd, Yet can her Silver Key undo In all the Church the fairest Pew. Church Turn-keys make ungodly Wages, Like their Great Grand-sire Simon M••gus. A Shame, that ev'ry under Clerk yet In Pray'r-time keeps his highest Market.

Noting the Seat in which she fixt, Pendragon gets into the next,

Where he had full View of her Favour: But overlooking her Behaviour, He spy'd occasion to arraign her As guilty of a Misdemeanour. For when the rest t' appearance were Standing, or on their Knees at Pray'r, Our Lady's Posture too does show, She does the same that others do; Devoutly turning up her Eyes, Who at a distance could surmise That her fair Hand held in the place Of Pocket Pray'r-book, Pocket-Glass? Or that she naughtily, instead Of Collects, Dress and Visage read? And sticking on her Cheek a Patch, Made the Responsal, We beseech, &c. And after Benediction, She shook her Head, and sigh'd, Amen. Moving her Limbs, to stand upright, With Amber Scent she struck the Knight: And turning round, her Skin or Clothes Gave him a Whiff of Tuberose.

At her Go-off, she cast a Smile; He quite confounded all the while, Did like a Marble Statue stand, Or like one Planet-struck remain'd, Till every Body else was gone, Except the Clerk and he alone: Who coming to himself, did find The Danger of being left behind, Which he, by going out, declin'd. Tho's Heart was wounded, yet his Head Variety of Fancies fed. Reflecting that her Thoughss were roving, He deem'd her the more fit for Loving: And from the Mixture of the Sinner, Conceiv'd the greater Hopes to win her. For tho' in Faith he was not weak, Yet but for Hope his Heart must break. If the fam'd Knight o' th' Mancha knew well To feed his Flames with Fancy's Fuel, And burn outrageously for one Whose Visage was to him unknown,

What fiercer Flames, and greater Raging, Must our Knight feel? (you may imagine) Who took the Philters charming Dose In at his Ears, and Eyes, and Nose? Which strongly seizing on his Heart, Diffus'd it self thro' ev'ry Part, That in this manner, as he walk'd, Disturb'dly to himself he talk'd.

On me the Pow'rs above have laid Enough to make another mad. If I'm the Atlas and the Prop O' th' Government, why let it drop. Let Whiggs and Trimmers take their ease, And set at Liberty their Bees, Go water their Ranunculus's, And other Plants, in Pots and Cases: Let them pursue their Sports, make Play-day Until a good while after May day, While I go in pursuit of Lady. Each Man has Bus'ness of his own, To be dispatch'd, or left undone.