Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A54783
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A satyr against hypocrites
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Phillips, John, 1631-1706.
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1655
(1655)
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Wing P2101; ESTC R19268
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15,563
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28
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Christendome The Midwife Captain of the gang walks first Laden with Childe and Naples-bisket crust Most reverently she steps drest all in print If she be not a Saint the Devils in 't For so demure she looks that you would guess She were some holy penitent Votaress With eyes and mouth set in her Looking-glass On purpose for to carry Babe of Grace Nor is 't a thing inspir'd but got by Art And Practice as the Beggar learnt to Fart Then follow th' Guests each one in her degree Most punctual in their Parish-Heraldry Being come to Church they keep their close order And go on and go on and go farther and farther Till they arrive where for the Priests ease God wot Stands a pretty little stone Syllabub-pot Water 't had in 't though but a little God knows Scarcely to wet the tip of the Childs nose Men say there was a secret wisdom then That rul'd the strange opinions of these men For by much washing Child got cold in head Which was the cause so many Saints snuffled Oh cry'd another sect let 's wash the cock And eke that other thing that lurks in smock Thâ—â—e were the members whence did first arise The sinfull cause of all our miseries But their wise Wives reply'd fuming and fretting 'T was dangerous least the partâ— should shrink in wetting And for that cause they only did be-sprinkle The pretty Birdsney-Pigsney-Periwinkle Now when the Priest had spoke and made an end And that the Child was made the Churches friend The women straightway they went home agen To talk of things which they conceal from men Then Midwife carries Child t' ask Mother blessing Who gives it a kiss in her Flanders-lace dressing She sate with Curtains drawn most princum prancum And call'd the women every one to thank 'um Full threescore pound it cost in Plumbs and Dishes Which women eat as Pikes eat little Fishes But when the Claret and Hypocriss came in Then the tittle tattle began to begin The Midwife takes a Tankard and drinks up all Of all the Saints quoth she God bless St. Paul He bid the men give the women their due If they do'nt may the women ne're prove true Well fare my Son here he is a yonng man But let any other do better if he can Five in six years hey ho here daughter Here 's to the next bout and what shall come after But what ayles my Neighbour here to look so grum A year and a half and nothing yet come Alas I lost time quoth she I married a Fool 'T was six months ere he knew he was to use his tool But I ha' taught him a new lesson I faith quo I fye upon 't Such a fool at these years but learn more wit if ye do'nt Alas cryes one you are happy to me Weeping and drinking most heartily My Husband whores and drinks all the week Judge you then Neighbours how I am to seek Then they all shook their heads and lookt most sad These are they quoth the Midwife spoyl our trade But be of good cheer daughter come come If he wont another must in his room Alas quoth she with a jolly red Nose There 's many an able Christian God knows Would leap at that which thy Husband despises Then 'gin they to talk of the several sizes Of the long and the short the little and great 'T would put a modest Gam ster into a sweat I thank my God quoth the Midwife then I have buried three Husbands all proper men I thank my God for 't though I say 't that shou'd not Yet I can't say like one that understood not There was no difference between the three But if any man a good workman be He may well do enough if he be intent To give a reasonable She content I speak merrily Neighbours hah hah here 's to you all God send us more of these good jobs to fall By and by they single out a poor woman That has had the luck to have as good as no man But her they use mâ—st unmercifully Calling her Husband Do-little and Cully Fumbler and Gelding and then they all exhort her Rather then be sham'd to hire some strong Porter Now after this discourse and th' Wines drank up They all depart to their own homes to sup After that to bed and 't is a pound to a doight If their Husbands sleep for their Quail-pipes that night Others not so concern'd walk in the fields To give their longing Wives what Cake-house yields And as they go God Grace and Ordinances Is all their chat they seem in heav'nly trances Thus they trim up their souls with holy words Shaving off sin as men shave off their Beards To grow the faster sins they cry are fancies The Godly live above all Ordinances Now they 're at home and have their suppers eat When Thomas cryes the Master come repeat And if the windows gaze upon the street To sing a Psalm they hold it very meet But would you know what a preposterous zeal They sing their Hymnes withall then listen well The Boy begins Go too therefore ye wicked men ' Depart from me Thomas anon For the Yes Sir commandments will I keep Of God Pray remember to receive the 100 l. in Gracious-street to morrow my Lord alone As thou has promis'd to perform Mary anon forsooth That death me not assaile Pray remember to rise betimes to morrow morning you know you have a great many cloaths to soap Nor let my hope abuse me so That through distrust I quaile But Sunday now good night and now good morrow To thee oh Covenant Wednesday full of sorrow Alas my Lady Anne wont now be merry She 's up betimes and gone to Alderman-bury Truly 't was a sad day for every sinner Did feast a supper then and not a dinner Nor men nor women wash their face to day Put on their cloaths and piss and so away They throng to Church just as they sell their ware In greasie hats and old gowns worn thread bare Where though the whole body suffered tedious pain No member yet had more cause to complain Than the poor nose when little to its ease A Chandlers cloak perfum'd with candle-grease Commixing sents with a Sope-boylers breeches Did raise a stink beyond the skill of Witches Now steams of Garlick whifting through the nose Smelt worse than Assa-fetida or Luthers hose With these mundungus and a breath that smells Like standing pools in subterraneal cells Compos'd Pomanders to out-stink the Devil Yet strange to tell they suffer'd all this evil Nor to make water all the while would rise The women sure had spunges 'twixt their thighs To stir at this good time they thought was sin So strictly their devotion kept them in Now the Priests elbows do the cushion knead While to the people he his Text doth read Beloved I shall here crave leave to speak A word he cries and winks unto the weak The words are these Make haste and do not