Juvenalis redivivus, or, The first satyr of Juvenal taught to speak plain English a poem.

JUVENALIS Redivivus. OR The first Satyr of JƲVENAL made to speak plain English.

BUT must I alway suffer this? Can I So tamely still an ears good nature trie, Exalted Nonsence being plac'd for Pillory?

Must I in complaisance conceal my pain? No, I'le turn Fool, and write, and vex again. Dear Doeg, long have I with patience heard Cambyses roar, and mighty thundrings fear'd.

The Comick Mamamouch' hath teiz'd me too, And Sappho with her wondrous Empty shew, A Torie faith, yet sha'nt unpunish'd go.

The Citty Wits have often scar'd my Eys With lamentable, mournful Elegies, But of all plagues Mack Fleckno is the worst, With Guts and Poverty severely curst: Large is his Corps, his mighty works do swell, Both carefully fill'd up, and stuff'd from Hell: Eternal Sot, all o're a publick Ass, Is cypher'd in the margin of his Face. No tawdry Jilt does Playhouse better know, Than I St. Jameses Park, or who kist who: I know Morefields, where cunning Bawds do live; Th' Exchange, where none but Knaves and Cuckolds thrive. I see it plain why grinning Whigs do sneer, Or scold, and sweat to day at Westminster; That Sr. George and I, shall have a Summons, As Traytors, to the Royal [1] House of Commons.

That thin starv'd Squires will steal a Golden Wench, That Wapping Buffe'ne longs to kick the French: The lab'ring Press does daily this repeat, And frighted Nokes on loaded Stage does sweat. [2] These subjects do the best and worst wits choose, But none will e're a tedious Dulness loose. Then why should I, who long have left the Schools, And all pedantick, boyish, Grammar rules; I, who to Patience once did give advice To quit Fur-gown, and publick Offices;

Shall I minc'd Pies defraud, or paper spare, Since in Taverns, Streets, troth and every where, Jack-pudding Poetasters do appear?

Since piss-burn'd Wigg, torn cloaths, and much of spight, Or sawcy Fool's sufficient plea to write.

But why the Ground must raging Fancy choose, Which sharp and noble Dryden oft does use, 'Lashing full stretch his fiery foaming Muse?

Strong Truths and Reasons shall declare the Cause, And which forgiving Zeal will ne're oppose.

When Fumbling Serjeants wanton Girls do wed, (Sad Tools alas to warm a Marriage Bed) When shameless Women on the Stage are brought, And puny Lords with naked Breasts are caught; When Ishban swears he's richer than my King, And Scriveners against Courts their Actions bring; When leathern Clown, that came from [3] Islington,

To factious Common Councils strait does run; And then with Pride on stately Stone-horse set, Curses the Golden Chain that makes him sweat: S'Death, from loud laughter I can ne're refrain, I stop at grinns, and hide my teeth in vain; My boiling Gall does such confinement scorn, And strong desires of Pen and Ink return. Here in his Coach the full-blown Jonas swells, And Popish Rats the sharp-nos'd Arod smells; The squeaking Jack-call Doctor starts the Game, And each his share in Blood and Money claim.

Through strange beliefs he bribed sence decoys, And swears that Devils ne're could utter lies, Yet dreads that TO will once against the witness rise.

With such success Sham-plots a Midwife try'd, (As some affirm) by Tower'd Lords employ'd. Here Covent Garden stabs an Heir Remove, Stallions eat Gold, are blest in Hellish Love; They cheat fond, irksome, and deceiving Life, I'th Sweets of a Rich Merchant's ugly wife. The Long-tayl'd Balaam from a [4] Table strikes His twelfve Half-Crowns, nor fame nor pay dislikes.

Hard Brawny Strong does much and more inherit, He drinks and roars on's stock of belly-merit. But sure this hot-spur will the Profit reap, When's thin pale Soul through shriveled veins does creep; When like declaiming Tyburn-Rogue he'll Cry, Good Countrymen take warning all by Me: When in Pox, Gout, and stink Amyntas lies, That was so brisk, so gay, so witty, and so wise. Soft Pitty, and fierce Angers tear my Soul, When Knaves a Noble Essex Youth controle: Undone by Fraud he discontented walks, And to his shabby thread-bare Garment talks.

[5] He Sharks, and Cheats, he Pimps, and feign would Game, To raise the Grandeur of his Birth and Name. But those the Rogues i'th Croud of Footmen plac't The Boars that do our Fields and Countreys wast.

They Eat whole Families, drink Orphans Tears, And none the threats of walking Conscience feares, (As God would have it too,) they'r Ʋsurers.

See Curse ye Meroz with mock sentence blest, (For what's disgrace, when Coin at home doth rest) Banish't Mankind on Herbs himself he feasts, And stares, and struts i'th midst of's Brother Beasts. With Haste and Zeal he loves his Angry Fate, And Joys that God so mean a Wretch will Hate. [6] oh Doctors, Doctors Commons, tho prevailing Yet thou findst for thy wrongs no Help but wailing.

Where's Auldram Rochester, and Wicherley, You mighty Souls, that in this Cause dare dye? Let's draw our Pens, and quit [7] Tarsander's Praise, Fair Phillis lovely Bum, the charming ways Of Country Wife, renown'd for mizmaze tricks, Or where their Darts our Courtlike Cupids fix. The Worlds on Fire, it does in madness reign, Quench it with Ink, with Satyr breath a Vein: Peevish, perverse, & base, it hates a Cure, And scarce will out true honest minds endure; It must, it must the kind Plain-dealers feel, That will its sores, and foul diseases heal.

Then Smooth I wont forget that Handsome Lord, Seditious Sot, unfaithful in his word: With strange good Nature he his Horns receives, And a whole Wife for Julio's Friendship gives. When e're strong Drink or Sleep does seize his head, Be sure that minute there's a Cuckold made. His Conscience Pimps, his Brains the Friend doth buy, And all things yield to his No-Loyalty. Fetch pious Swearmuch from New-Market Race, Religion jades him, and she tires apace: He on good Horseflesh lives, but will not own,

That Fortune e're can cast her Rider down. His noble Ancestours he scarce does know, But with unsullied honour sneaks below

And says, tis well observed by the Wise, That from starv'd Jockeys valiant Souldiers rise; And underhand for a Commission tries.

A beggar'd [8] Duke thus once was set astride, And did himself to a poor Devil ride. Why should I not the Streets, and Churches fill With sharp Lampeons, spew venom thro my quill? When bald-fac'd Split-cause in Sedan must roul, Th' unfeather'd, glaring, rich, Majestick Owl;

Dowries he has from sweet oppression, But Wax and Parchment was his Portion. Worse than a Plague he dreads the Wind and Air, It spoils his Curls, and does disturb his Hair. To please the Earth let kind Heaven rain or shine, The Day is damn'd that crosses his Design. In ease and softness he melts down his hours, And the spruce Earl above his God adores. Clarinda here her mortgag'd corps would buy, Itches once more for Maiden Liberty.

Wisely did Reverend Time her Mother see, That Dog and Bitch, when coupled, ne're agree. In vain are Myrtles rais'd, and Roses spread, She loaths the joys of an unwholsom Bed; Curses the false fires of her Ferret Eyes, And charming, ill contriv'd deformities. In short, to brave stout Ruffian Saints she pray'd, It lightned, thundred, and the Husband's dead. Her desperate Gods with noise our City shooke, "And roar'd their vengeance out in fire and smoak. Had she some secret, modish poysons sought, [9] Madamoseile her knowledge would have taught; She'd work above, the Frenchman down below, [10] The Devil's in the Dice if 'twould not do.

Go on brave Souls, slight still all heav'nly power, Dare something worthy Newgate and the Tower. Fame loves to talk of Rogues, their Ghosts does dread, When I their Tryals and their Memoirs read. A pox of Honesty and Conscience, Despis'd by all the men of wit and sence. Learning and Piety ne'ere made man great, Dull Knaves, and cringing fools preferment get. See here this large Estate to Hell I owe, And this from profitable sins does grow; Base niggard Heav'n on Earth must credit loose, The lib'ral Devil for our God we choose.

O Hideous thought— —I Rave, I cannot Rest, When sweet fair Lucia, like a VVanton drest,

Sighs, smiles, looks, kisses in incestuous arms, And frighted senses to strange feasts alarms; Pitty vile, beastly Lust had such amazing Charms.

Eunuchs and Monkeys Cloris still requires, Creatures unfit for Loves soft Amorous fires; Their Duty a good Christian oft desires.

The young St John rots long before his time, And of Guiacum stinks, and Turpentine. Hence, hence, my own Poetick rage I slight, The madness of the world shall make me write.

Let sinking Nature noble Scorn supply, It may compose at least such lines as I, Or the Dull, honest Barten [11] Holiday.

E're since the Royal Charles from England went, And Floods of Tears bewail'd his Banishment: Since mad Religious Rebels did Command, And joy'd to see a sad and naked Land; Each Face for Satyr will afford a Theme, And even silent Thoughts procure Esteem. Bullies, Cheats, Pimps, and Whores, ay all mankind, May here their ugly, well drawn Pictures find.

Vice (Heaven be prais'd) a tall fair Crop does yield, A Harvest always, and from soil untill'd.

Shop-keeping Gripes in large long Rowes appear, The Times are hard, they cry, on Rep they swear, For King and Church they can't afford a Prayer.

Sr. Fopling must to day at Lockets dine, Where Cards and Dice commend the Nasty wine; Grannums old Gold from Satin Purse is brought, And Lordships are by Jilting Fortune caught. Undone he stakes his Soul, tempts on his Fate, While's Lowsy Footmen for their wages wait. At length the Gentile Cully leaves our Isle, Whilst Noise and Bully Thunder share the Spoil.

To please the Croud our Fathers never meant, Nor seven long years in mighty Nothings spent; Ne're built a Costly useless MONƲMENT.

Till selfish Shimei none e're din'd alone, Glutton and Swine himself he starves the Town; Good Herbs and Air God made for our relief, Fishes, Birds, Beasts for him, and's Woodstreet wife. Our Noah's Ark the aged world now fears, And down his Throat all Creatures go by Pairs. Ravens and Carrion-bitts he gives the Rout, But savoury Pidgeons seldom do come out. Grace said, he smiles, and standing up—

[12] Drive off the Torie Rogues, he loudly cries, Take heed of Spanish Pilgrims in disguise,

The Brethren you may eas'ly know from these, True Protestants have lost their Consciences. Let cashier'd angry Courtiers still come on, Sure trusty Trojans in Rebellion. For each of these on factious treats depend, Huge Ale and Beef did always find a friend. Should I make publick feasts, (which heaven prevent) (Damnation gad's a milder punishment,) The Zealous Zimri there should first be plac't; Then scribling Arthur is a Hopeful Guest. But here's an Alderman a seat must have, A sober, sly, discreet, substantial Knave; Spawn'd on the banks of Trent, a Todpole bred.

Now Toad all o're, with a large Trimmers head. Goodkind Addresses by his face are meant, But's breech is all a Scottish Covenant. Large mines of Gold do in his Cellar sleep, 'Twill all your Windsor [13] Kinghts in credit keep. Well-born L'Estrange must not compare with us, He's wise, and poor, and therefore scandalous. The roaring Lords admire our richer mould, Each bows and crings to us Calves of Gold. Money, dear money Titles will afford. For silver Judas does betray his Lord.

Stand off then Peers, let a brave Citt come by, Adore a Rag of lowsie Majesty. Under his branches beasts do take their rest, There, there a bird of prey does make his nest:

With vast respect him let our children name, Who sacred honours thus alone does claim, Who to th' Town a notch't, sun-burnt, itchy Prentice came.

Saint Paul shall now his stately Temple quit, Goddess Pecunia must inhabit it. Henceforth no Tipstaffs shall our Meeting search, Meek kind Dissenters then will come to Church.

Then noisie [14] Jack-daw Jen—s preach thy worth, And Kaw, and Kaw thy goodly Doctrines forth. Speak then, you that our Glories oft have seen, Great is Diana 'mongst our Englishmen.

He said, and long revolving in his thought, What Coin his Dear Disloyalty had brought, For Lies'gainst Court (says I) you this Receive, For downright Treason this, and this as—Shrieve. But why should rich men thus engross a Trade? The Rabble live by't, tis their daily Bread. Through Grace a zealous Lobbish Traitor cries, Help on O Heav'n our weak Infirmities. Three Tabernacles Lard do thou prepare, For Ferg—N, Tom H—nt, and Harry C—re.

Make this a Bishop, Tom a Judge shall be, And the Gracious Lad chief Secretary; Rewards sufficient for iniquity.

Tis true, a Jllr the Cause they lead about With Midwife hands, and help't a Monster out. In zeal and Conscience they this Babe did wrap, And almost kis't and lick't it into shape. But the good Devil ow'd his Friends a spight, The Bastard—plot half Grown is ruin'd quite. A Fool; it neither Brains nor Breeding had, A Driveling, Blundring, Milk-sop Oaf made. Who'd think that such a Reformation Was got by the wise part o'th Nation? They Lye: their wisdom and their Purse is poor, London* 1.1 Churchwardens do keep both child and whore.

Their Boasted number to a Nothing's fell, Your Men in Moons good Sirs can ne're prevail. Come shew your Heads, young Julio wants a Vote, He begs th' assistance of a Carman's throat. But see, the Godlike Caesar mounts the Throne, And a vain empty Idol's melted down.

But tho God scatter'd thus this Jewish race, Again with Nauseous spit they dawb his Face, Huzzaing, we [15] Barabbas still Release.

No Hour can skip here unregarded by, Their busy Souls each minute do employ. Libels and Coffee first the Morning stay, Then Wine and Whores lead on the Joyful Day.

The Prisons now for swearing Knights they take, And fetter'd Rogues substantial Juries make. The Refuse and odd scraps of time are To write the Life of some Heroick Saint.

Tony in Print an Hair-brain'd Author puts, Before the book a well-drawn Picture strutts, So rotten Whetstone Jades wear Silken Petticoats.

Bumfodder sure before was not so scarce, With Lives and Deaths I now must wipe mine A—.

Indeed a whole Day once they did [16] To Pray and Praise in Butchers meat and wine. But the gud Tribe for Nought did Guinnies pay. At Door they just peep'd in, and sneak'd away.

A Non-Con Abr'am would not trust his Eyes, But look't behind for Rams to sacrifice. Some Tradesmen too (who by my soul at least Can forty Days upon occasion Fast,)

At length with tedious expectations Tire, And do resolve henceforth they'l ne're Aspire, Beyond a Toast, a Nutmeg, and a Sea—coal Fire.

Their Grandees baulk't like Owls do hate the light, At home turn Fools and Gluttons out of spight. Their whole Estates they swallow down, for fear Their Treason known should give the K. a share. Flatt'ry they love, but 'tmust not come within, Tis a good natur'd and expensive Sin,

So many Beasts to Adam never came, Each now dish'd up from them expects a name. The wide—throat hungry Lawyers better sped, They nobly on our stinking Charter fed. But Vice brings still with it a Punishment, A huge fat Carcass to the Bath is sent. Though these Augaean Stables scorn a flood; Epsom and Tunbridge waters do no good.

Strange Swellings rise from undigested meat, Their names are known at the next Torie treat, Who scout these Tympanies of Church and State.

Perfect and full-grown Ill can mount no more, The Age to come its Glories must adore; Know how from nothing our Creation grew, And wondring stand a world of mischiefs view.

Poor in themselves with thanks they shall receive, What we their Gods above will downwards give. Yet spread my Sails, and launch into the Deep, O're Death and Dangers shall my Satyr leap. This Gyant-work I boldly do disown; Pelion and Ossa now shall tumble down. Help then, O Heaven, with a Destroying hand, Scatter the Lice and Locusts of our Land. With Famine, Plagues, and Inquisition kill, But O remove, remove, a Greater ill. I know They all defiance do profess, Stubborn and disobedient to my Lash; But time there was when they observ'd my Nod, And gratefully would love and kiss the Rod.

For Johnson his't at length a Poet was, But th' HONOURABLE ESQUIRE's still an Ass If Whatdeecallum with Advice you hurt, Lord, you must ask his Pardon in open Court. But let each Tigelline in Coaches strut, Look down on wiser men that walk a foot: When Titles come we'l sneer, and turn about, Least Scandalum Magnatum's thundred out.

[17] Let Puny wits some Heroe's fate rehearse, And murder him again in Hobling verse: My soul this Cowardice doth wisely Dread, Tis Cruelty to cut and slash the Dead.

See our Fam'd Laureats frown does fright the Croud, All fly the vengeance of an angry God. Their Guilt and Shame an Horrour does express, Devoutly to Him they their sins confess.

Perhaps at last, if Wine their Courage move, With base Rose Alley Drubs they him reprove, And stand like Capaneus defying Jove.

All this I'le bear, this I can eas'ly pass, And boldly match the Muses [18] Hudibrass. Be still then Westminster, thy Tombs shall rest, Sleep on ye Reverend Shades in silence Drest. LONDON, thou sink of Vice, my Stripes expect, The world shall know, that I the Living dare CORRECT.

Notes

• * 1.1

  The-wou'd-be Sheriffs.