The comical dream, or, The tempest:: a mock poem. Representing the humours of some sea-sick passengers their feav'rish valour, and their aguish fears: with the true description of a false sea-fight:.
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THE Comical Dream, OR The Tempest. A Mock Poem, &c.

SIR,

HIs humble Pen receives no Aid from those
Who Thunder in Verse, and speak like Guns in Prose:
Such Wit like Powder makes a horrid noise
And with a bounceing-flash it self destroy's.
These Empty-Authors only rich in sound
VVith glorious Nonsence all their Books abound.
O how ambitiously they Court the Press,
To make the ignorant admire their dress:
To gain the Applauses of a Vulgar breath
Which once suckt in, like Poyson, swells to death.
Dull-Soulless-men! instead of nat'ral parts,
Their brains stuft full with low Mechanick Arts.
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Few be so happy to reach DRYDEN'S height,
Or if they should, the wit is out of sight!
Then do not blame me for so low a stile,
My Wit's compel'd in other sports to toyle,
Or rather business calls me from my Pen,
Such business as confounds the Witts of men.
Shou'd I thus begin
It is well known to some, or most of ye,
How Merchants go in Wood, cut out of Tree,
To take fresh Air in crossing the salt Sea:
But who the Devil wou'd like such Ribaldry?
My Taper here, seeing such wretched stuffe,
Ner took its leave but vanish'd in a snuff.
LONDON, that Famous City for Commerce.
Muses assist, to sing her praise in Verse.
Let learn'd Historians tell her Founders name;
My work is to describe her present Fame.
Hail Queen of Cities! mayst thou ever be,
As now thou art, the Glory of the three.
Thou art erected on fo firm a Base
As neither time, nor envy, shall deface.
And if one unexperienc'd, can devine,
Thy glories ne'r shall set, but alwaies shine
In Honours Orb, there fixt, thy Friends to chear;
But Meteor-like possess thy Foes with fear.
If well built Ships, and stately buildings be
Th' Effects of Art, and Ingenuity?
And if these Arts do merit any praise?
Thou, out of ruine did'st thy Trophies raise:
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For Phoenix-like from Her bright Ashes came
Another Phoenix to revive her name!
So shall succeeding Ages much admire,
How this great City fell and rise! by Fire!
In lieu of Eggs to fill her empty nest,
A City hatch't: equal to none! the best!
Each private building, like a Pallace, showes;
Contriv'd by Art in Uniformal-rowes:
And in the middle of this glorious place,
Is rear'd an Edifice of Royal-race:
The Royal Exchange, where Merchants dayly meet,
Making the Pavements proud to kiss their Feet.
To Noble Gresham, her first being owes,
And now her VValls a Kingly Race inclose:
In Efigie (though dead) they lively stand,
Viewing the relicks of their past-command.
O're the Piazzi of this noble-square,
Live tempting Angles selling out their ware,
VVhose swet-alluring-smiles, and lovely looks,
Take all the Fish that nibble at those hooks.
Pride's sould by'th' Peece, and Pleasure, by the Yard:
But whom you Traffick with, have great regard;
For some Commodities Infectious are—
Though to the outward show appear most fair:
Yet sometimes damag'd prove, and burnt within;
'Tis punishment to pay so dear for sin;
And for a moments tickling pleasure lye
A Moneth in pain, then play the Fool and dye.
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But here dull-Morpheus with his leaden Mace,
Did throw a pleasing slumber or'e my face;
Which slid into the Portals of mine eyes,
And seis'd my sences with a quick surprise.
'Twixt sleep and waking on my back, I lay
VVhen Fancy rais'd a Visionary-day;
And bad my drousy thoughts, sit down and see,
VVhile she pesented them a Comedy.
Faith, so it prov'd—Thrice had the Musick plai'd
VVhen various Antiques, danc'd in Masquerade.
They vanish'd straight, and for a Prologue, comes
A felw in, full of his hauks, and humms:
Drest up in high-crown'd Hat, and narrow band,
VVho for a while did like an Image stand:
Into his mouth he sukt his snotty snowt,
He spit and spaul'd and gently trod it out:
So having thus prepar'd himself to speak
His tongue, like Bagpipes, through his Organs squeak.
My thoughts sate sympring at this formal sight,
Had it been real I had laugh't out-right.
Mean while t'amuse my thoughts a Sister came,
He toucht her flesh, and askt her carnal name;
The spirit mov'd him to salute her too,
And in the Act, he whisper'd her, Wou't do?
Doe' (quoth she) what do'st thou mean by this?
T'increase the faithful; Lambs may play and kiss:
The seed of Faith, sown upon fertil ground,
VVill make the faithful every where abound.
His strong desire she faintly do's refuse,
And now his zeal the chase more hot persues.
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Words, without Presents, take successless pains,
No Love like that of Bracelets, Pearls, and Chains:
Presents, in a dumb Language plead their mind,
And cause the Object quickly to be Kind.
VVith more than usual hast, urging her too't,
He now presents her with some early fruit.
No sooner tasted, but like Grannum Eve,
She fell—and he upon her—here I leave.
Shou'd I proceed, 'twou'd titulate your blood,
And make ye stand to things that are not good:
Knowing how apt our Nature is that way,
Though, in a full Career, it forc'd me, stay.
Here, the Scaene shifted to th' Royal Exchange:
My wand'ring thoughts through every Walk did range.
And leaning 'gainst a Pillar, heard some say,
How that the first fair wind, they wou'd away:
And by discursive Circumstance, I found,
They and the Captain, were for — bound.
No sooner a desire possest my mind;
Of Place, and Persons, alteration find.
Not lightning flashes swifter through the air;
Nor Lovers fancies gazing on the Fair,
Than did my Thoughts—
The whispr'ing voices, and the silken Cloathes;
Now chang'd to Tarry—and to ful-mouth'd Oaths.
The Boat-swain, loudest, bad them make less noise;
He lick't the Younckers, kick't about the Boys.
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Me thoughts, at this I was concern'd and vext;
And was afraid it might be my turn next.
Hands o're the side, the Captain's come aboard:
And with him Merchants, with Provisions stor'd.
The Anchor weigh'd, and Ship just under sail:
When in an instant sprung a mighty Gale.
She now begins to bouze it with her snout,
And toss her new Inhabitants about:
They, not inur'd to this unstable Place;
It chang'd their mirth into a serious face.
And all confus'd, cannot tell what to think,
But reel and stagger, like as men in drink.
No pleasing Object, now salutes the Eye,
But ugly Scelletons are stalking by.
A squeasy stomach bids them to prepare
To take a Vomit, and to walk i'th' Air.
One throws himself upon his little Bed,
And on his hand, he leans his aching head.
Another, o're a Bason says his Prayers:
VVhat he eat last, for those will have it, spars.
A third, into the Gallery runs, and there
What he intends, those next him, smell and hear.
Strip handsome women, let 'um naked stand;
Shoud they with looks, intreat; with words, command:
Should they fal back, and pluck them with 'um too,
They'd rise agen, and little say, or do.
Few hours sickness alters Nature quite,
And makes a Saint, of who before was Right.
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Had sea or wind, but any Sence of wrong,
They wou'd not have maintain'd the VVar so long.
Boreas, puft up the Sea with swelling Pride;
Whose proud Ambitious waves, the Ship, defied:
And rising up into a Mountaine's height,
Break in, and stagger her with no less weight.
The Scud flyes thick; such threatning clouds appear,
Would melt a hardn'd courage into Fear:
When Cowards, who the danger do not know,
Can with a boldness to their ruine go:
So Asses, in disguise, like Lions show.
The angry Elements, in thunder speak,
As if they wou'd, the course of Nature break;
And all it's order, into Chaos shake.
All darkness is,—But when the Lightnings fly,
And with their subtil fires inflame the Sky;
Which, like a Prospect-glass, show dangers nigh.
The Land (to many welcome!) now does roar,
With foaming Billows beating on the Shoar.
As hungry Lions, though they see their Prey
Make towards 'um, Impatient of delay,
Rouse up, and meet it above half the way.
Even so th' Earth contra—to Natures course,
Moves in a dreadful shape to meet the source:
Which, as Jaccals the silly beasts, decoy,
So wou'd the Seas, this beaten-ship, convoy
To its Destruction; Had not Providence
(VVho acts beyond the reach of common sence)
Made the big Clouds, a kind of sorrow show,
And weep down blessings to the world below.
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Those, who in Taverns keep good Company,
May partly guess what the disorders be;
For when the Wine do's elevate the man,
He thinks, a cou'd do more than others can.
So have I seen, two Hectors stoutly draw,
VVhose very looks might keep a Fool in awe:
A MIS (chiefe) stps between, and whispers one,
That he shall use her first. The Quarrel's done.
He takes her at her word, and o're a Chair,
Lays her down gently; fumbles out his—
But that, alas! not in condition then;
Peept out its head, and shrunk it in agen.
VVhich when this Rival saw, he little sed,
But sent a bottle to his nodding-head,
And after that, another: Both ingage
Arm'd Cap-a-pe, with folly, VVine, and Rage.
The woman disappointed of her pleasure;
Swears, the next time, that he shall wait her leasure:
She quits the Room, goes to another Friend,
VVho of her business quickly made an end.
For Men in drink can seldome go, or stand;
Much less perform a Ladys strict command.
Aboard, confusion much like this appears,
They were surpriz'd with drink, but these, with fears.
For in Reels one, with Breeches in his hand,
And what for fear and sickness, cou'd not stand;
Fall's o're another, whose gaping faint reply,
Did let him know, he'd rather spue, than dye.
Though both helpt up, by those which on them wait;
Yet not so soon, but all Contaminate.
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An Hamper of wine o'reset, and wash't away,
The reeking Mixture, which by its Confines lay.
No sooner they, within their Cabbins stow'd,
The Sea was lay'd, and VVind more gently blow'd.
And having thus repos'd themselves a while,
Rose up, and at each others Fortunes, smile.
All their discourse on the ensuing day,
Was, of the several postures how they lay.
But one more free than any of the rest,
On his Companions of't wou'd break a Jest.
The Ghost of's Mother Came, whose envious frown,
Dash't all their Mirth, and beat their smiling down!
Not that they stood in fear, only because
They would be subject unto Honors Laws.
Such is the nature of true Gentlemen,
To take Abuse, and not to give't agen.
For they by Honor, not by Envy led,
Take no Exception what is done or sed.
More, t'allay their Mirth, and raise their Fear:
A Tartàn brings News, th' Hollanders are near.
Hammocks all down, and all the Guns put out:
The men half frighted, staring, run about!
Some up the Shrowds; one above all Espies
Small Fishermen, the Hollanders, he cries.
No sooner from his mouth the Allarum given:
The Passengers bequeath their Souls to Heaven!
One shivering stands, and whisp'ring to his Friend;
Damme! these VVars will never have an end.
A second stamps, and in his passion cryes,
My Friends have sent me, for a Sacrifice!
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A little man, more serious than they,
Told them, this was no time, to curse, but Pray.
A fourth, for his Pistols calls; his Hanger trys
Upon a Gun, that when most need on't, flyes.
The most Devout, in hast runs to his Chest,
For that good Book, which Pious men love best;
But being stow'd away beneath the rest
Cou'd not be found,—faith 'twas a pretty Jest!
For up he snatches one, One which he took
By the Cover, to be a Sermon book;
Into the Cabin presently repairs,
And after he had mumbled o're his Prayers;
With a compos'd and serious look begins
To read, the just reward of all our Sins.
So was the Book Intituled; but alass!
This gran-mistake must now no longer pass.
In stead of such a Chapter, such a Verse;
There was a Duke brought in upon a Herse.
A Prologue for the Text. One overlooks
Tells him 'a wonders, he will read such Books.
He in a Fury throws the Book away,
The other out of roguery bids him Pray:
Because that he but half an hour before,
Bad him not Curse, but say his Prayers o're.
BRight Sol to the Antipodes was gone,
When silver Luna, did ascend her throne;
VVhose fainter Beams shone with a glimmering light;
And took her brothers part, made Day, of Night!
Night rouz'd with anger, from a sable shroud,
In circl'd all her glories in a Cloud.
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This is the time most Creatures go to rest,
This is the time, which married men love best.
This is the time, that women love to play,
And with Love-tricks, to Kiss Old-time away.
Just here, I wak't, and with my longing arms,
Imbrac't an empty shadow, without charms.
I turn'd about, and to my Pillow bow'd;
In stead of Juno, I imbrac'd a Cloud.
It wou'd vex you, or any one beside,
To have an empty shadow for your Bride.
Your Pardon Sir,—I'me out of humor quite,
I shall grow tedious, shou'd I further write,
Therefore, without a Complement, Good Night.

EPILOGƲE.

MEthinks I hear some Petty-Critticks say,
In all these Lines, he has not touch't the Play:
We did expect his Satyr in a rage,
Might scare the dancing Devils off the Stage.
To undeceive such expectation, know
This Dream was Writ (not many Months ago)
A thousand Leagues from Hence; and by a Pen,
That vallues not the Dammings of those Men,
Whose foppish humors to that pass are grown,
Nothing is Good, but what is like their Own!
Full of stiff-Nonfence, Raill'ry A-la-mode!
Where ev'ry Devil thunders like a god.
The very sound o'th' Words, do drown the Sence,
And their strong Lines are full of Impotence!
Yet if you Read, and not the Verse commend;
Dam 'um, They'l presently a Challenge send.
By ID, ESt,—That is to say,
The Best, and Worst, that ever writ a Play.
FINIS.