left such Worth unpaid Waller himself may thank Inheritance For what he else had never got by Sense On Butler who can think without just Rage The Glory and the Scandal of the Age Fair stood his hopes when first he came to Town Met every where with welcomes of Renown Courted and lov'd by all with wonder read And promises of Princely Favour fed But what Reward for all had he at last After a Life in dull expectance pass'd The Wretch at summing up his mis-spent days Found nothing left but Poverty and Praise Of all his Gains by Verse he could not save Enough to purchase Flannel and a Grave Reduc'd to want he in due time fell sick Was fain to die and be interr'd on tick And well might bless the Fever that was sent To rid him hence and his worse Fate prevent You 've seen what fortune other Poets share View next the Factors of the Theatre That constant Mart which all the year does hold Where Staple Wit is barter'd bought and sold Here trading Scriblers for their Maintainance And Livelihood trust to a Lott'ry-chance But who his Parts would in the Service spend Where all his hopes on vulgar Breath depend Where every Sot for paying half a Crown Has the Prerogative to cry him down Sidley indeed may be content with Fame Nor care should an ill-judging Audience damn But Settle and the Rest that write for Pence Whose whole Estate 's an ounce or two of Brains Should a thin House on the third day appear Must starve or live in Tatters all the year And what can we expect that 's brave and great From a poor needy Wretch that writes to eat Who the success of the next Play must wait For Lodging Food and Cloaths and whose chief care Is how to spunge for the next Meal and where Hadst thou of old in flourishing Athens liv'd When all the learned Arts in Glory thriv'd When mighty Sophocles the Stage did sway And Poets by the State were held in pay 'T were worth thy Pains to cultivate thy Muse And daily wonders then it might produce But who would now write Hackney to a Stage That 's only thought the Nuisance of the Age Go after this and beat thy wretched Brains And toil to bring in thankless Ideots means Turn o're dull Horace and the Classick Fools To poach for Sense and hunt for idle Rules Be free of Tickets and the Play-houses To make some tawdry Act'ress there by Prize And spend thy third Days gains 'twixt her clap'd Thighs All Trades and all Professions here abound And yet Encouragement for all is found Here a vile Emp'rick who by Licence kills Who every week helps to increase the Bills Wears Velvet keeps his Coach and Whore beside For what less Villains must to Tyburn ride There a dull trading Sot in Wealth o'regrown By thriving Knavery can call his own A dozen Mannors and if Fate still bless Expects as many Counties to possess Punks Panders Bawds all their due Pensions gain And every day the Great Mens Bounty drain Lavish expence on Wit has never yet Been tax'd amongst the Grievances of State The Turky Guinny India Gainers be And all but the Poetick Company Each place of Traffick Bantam Smyrna Zant Greenland Virginia Sevil Alicant And France that sends us Dildoes Lace and Wine Vast profit all and large Returns bring in Parnassus only is that barren Coast Where the whole Voyage and Adventure 's lost Then be advis'd the slighted Muse forsake And Cook and Dalton for thy study take For Fees each Term sweat in the crowded Hall And there for Charters and crack'd Titles bawl Where M d thrives and pockets more each year Than forty Laureats of the Theater Or else to Orders and the Church betake Thy self and that thy future Refuge make There fawn on some proud Patron to engage Th' Advowson of cast Punk and Parsonage Or sooth the Court and preach up Kingly Right To gain a Prebend'ry and Mitre by 't In fine turn Pettifogger Canonist Civilian Pedant Mountebank or Priest Soldier or Merchant Fidler Painter Fencer Jack-pudding Juggler Player or Rope-dancer Preach Plead Cure Fight Game Pimp Beg Cheat or Thieve Be all but Poet and there 's way to live But why do I in vain my Counsel spend On one whom there 's so little hope to mend Where I perhaps as fruitlesly exhort As Lenten Doctors when they Preach at Court Not enter'd Punks from Lust they once have tried Not Fops and Women from Conceit and Pride Not Bawds from Impudence Cowards from Fear Nor sear'd unfeeling Sinners past Despair Are half hard and stubborn to reduce As a poor Wretch when once possess'd with Muse. If therefore what I 've said cannot avail Nor from the Rhiming Folly thee recal But spight of all thou wilt be obstinate And run thy self upon avoidless Fate May'st thou go on unpitied till thou be Brought to the Parish Bridg and Beggary Till urg'd by want like broken Scriblers thou Turn Poet to a Booth a Smithfield-Show And write Heroick Verse for Bartholmew Then slighted by the very Nursery May'st thou at last be forc'd to starve like me A SATYR In Imitation of the Third of IVVENAL Written May 1682. The Poet brings in a Friend of his giving him an account why he removes from London to live in the Country THO much concern'd to leave my dear old Friend I must however his Design commend Of fixing in the Country for were I As free to chuse my Residence as he The Peake the Fens the Hundreds or Lands-end I would prefer to Fleetstreet or the Strand What place so desart and so wild is there Whose Inconveniencies one would not bear Rather than the Alarms of midnight Fire The falls of Houses Knavery of Cits The Plots of Factions and the noise of Wits And thousand other Plagues which up and down Each day and hour infest the cursed Town As Fate wou'd have 't on the appointed day Of parting hence I met him on the way Hard by Mile-end the place so fam'd of late In Prose and Verse for the great Factions Treat Here we stood still and after Complements Of course and wishing his good Journey hence I ask'd what sudden causes made him flie The once-lov'd Town and his dear Company When on the hated Prospect looking back Thus with just rage the good old Timon spake Since Virtue here in no repute is had Since Worth is scorn'd Learning and Sense unpaid And Knavery the only thriving Trade Finding my slender Fortune every day Dwindle and wast insensibly away I like a losing Gamester thus retreat To manage wiselier my last stake of Fate While I have strength and want no staff to prop My tott'ring Limbs e're Age has made me stoop Beneath its weight e're all my Thread be spun And Life has yet in store some Sands to run 'T is my Resolve to quit the nauseous Town Let thriving Morecraft chuse his dwelling there Rich with the Spoils of some young spend-thrift Heir Let
Lay all his life in ambush hid At last to kill me by surprize IV. A sudden Heat my Breast inspir'd The piercing Flame like Light'ning sent From that new dawning Firmament Thro every Vein my Spirits fir'd My Heart before averse to Love No longer could a Rebel prove When on the Grass you did display Your radiant BUM to my survey And sham'd the Lustre of the Day V. The Sun in Heav'n abash'd to see A thing more gay more bright than He Struck with disgrace as well he might Thought to drive back the Steeds of Light His Beams he now thought useless grown That better were by yours supplied But having once seen your Back-side For shame he durst not shew his own VI. Forsaking every Wood and Grove The Sylvans ravish'd at the sight In pressing Crowds about you strove Gazing and lost in wonder quite Fond Zephyr seeing your rich store Of Beauty undescried before Enamor'd of each lovely Grace Before his own dear Flora's face Could not forbear to kiss the place VII The beauteous Queen of Flow'rs the Rose In blushes did her shame disclose Pale Lillies droop'd and hung their heads And shrunk for fear into their Beds The amorous Narcissus too Reclaim'd of fond self-love by you His former vain desire cashier'd And your fair Breech alone admir'd VIII When this bright Object greets our sight All others lose their Lustre quite Your Eyes that shoot such pointed Rays And all the Beauties of your Face Like dwindling Stars that fly away At the approach of brighter Day No more regard or value bear But when its Glories disappear IX Of some ill Qualities they tell Which justly give me cause to fear But that which most begets despair It has no sense of Love at all More hard than Adamant it is They say that no Impression takes It has no Ears nor any Eyes And rarely very rarely speaks X. Yet I must lov't and own my Flame Which to the world I thus rehearse Throughout the spacious coasts of Fame To stand recorded in my Verse No other subject or design Henceforth shall be my Muses Theme But with just Praises to proclaim The fairest ARSE that e're was seen XI In pity gentle Phillis hide The dazling Beams of your Back-side For should they shine unclouded long All human kind would be undone Not the bright Goddesses on high That reign above the starry Sky Should they turn up to open view All their immortal Tails can shew An Arse-h so divine as you CATULLUS EPIGR. VII IMITATED Quaeris quot mihi Sasiationes c. NAY Lesbia never ask me this How many Kisses will suffice Faith 't is a question hard to tell Exceeding hard for you as well May ask what sums of Gold suffice The greedy Miser's boundless Wish Think what drops the Ocean store With all the Sands that make its Shore Think what Spangles deck the Skies When Heaven looks with all its Eyes Or think how many Atoms came To compose this mighty Frame Let all these the Counters be To tell how oft I 'm kiss'd by thee Till no malicious Spy can guess To what vast height the Scores arise Till weak Arithmetick grow scant And numbers for the reck'ning want All these will hardly be enough For me stark staring mad with Love SOME ELEGIES OUT OF OVID'S Amours IMITATED Book II. ELEGY IV. That he loves Women of all sorts and sizes Non ego mendosos ausim defendere mores c. NOT I I never vainly durst pretend My Follies and my Frailties to defend I own my Faults if it avail to own While like a graceless wretch I still go on I hate my self but yet in spite of Fate Am fain to be that loathed thing I hate In vain I would shake off this load of Love Too hard to bear yet harder to remove I want the strength my fierce Desires to stem Hurried away by the impetuous stream 'T is not one Face alone subdues my Heart But each wears Charms and every Eye a Dart And wheresoe're I cast my Looks abroad In every place I find Temptations strow'd The modest kills me with her down-cast Eyes And Love his ambush lays in that disguise The Brisk allures me with her gaity And shews how Active she in Bed will be If Coy like cloyster'd Virgins she appears She but dissembles what she most desires If she be vers'd in Arts and deeply read I long to get a Learned Maidenhead Or if Untaught and Ignorant she be She takes me then with her simplicity One likes my Verses and commends each Line And swears that Cowley's are but dull to mine Her in mere Gratitude I must approve For who but would his kind Applauder love Another damns my Poetry and me And plays the Critick most judiciously And she too fires my Heart and she too charms And I 'm agog to have her in my arms One with her soft and wanton Trip does please And prints in every step she sets a Grace Another walks with stiff ungainly tread But she may learn more pliantness abed This sweetly sings her Voice does Love inspire And every Breath kindles and blows the fire Who can forbear to kiss those Lips whose sound The ravish'd Ears does with such softness wound That sweetly plays and while her Fingers move While o're the bounding Strings their touches rove My Heart leaps too and every Pulse beats Love What Reason is so pow'rful to withstand The magick force of that resistless Hand Another Dances to a Miracle And moves her numerous Limbs with graceful skill And she or else the Devil 's in 't must charm A touch of her would bed-rid Hermits warm If tall I guess what plenteous Game she 'l yield Where Pleasure ranges o're so wide a Field If low she 's pretty both alike invite The Dwarf and Giant both my wishes fit Undress'd I think how killing she 'd appear If arm'd with all Advantages she were Richly attir'd she 's the gay Bait of Love And knows with Art to set her Beauties off I like the Fair I like the Red-hair'd one And I can find attractions in the Brown If curling Jet adorn her snowy Neck The beauteous Leda is reported Black If curling Gold Aurora's painted so All sorts of Histories my Love does know I like the Young with all her blooming Charms And Age it self is welcom to my Arms There uncropt Beauty in its flow'r assails Experience here and riper sense prevails In fine whatever of the Sex are known To stock this spacious and well-furnish'd Town Whatever any single man can find Agreeable of all the num'rous kind At all alike my haggard Love does fly And each is Game and each a Miss for me BOOK II. ELEGY V. To his Mistriss that jilted him Nullus amor tanti est abeas pharetrate Cupido c. NAY then the Devil take all Love if I So oft for its damn'd sake must wish to die What can I wish for but to die when you Dear faithless Thing I find could prove untrue Why
in a Garret here A Garden there and Well that needs no Rope Engin or Pains to Crane its Waters up Water is there thro Natures Pipes convey'd For which no Custom or Excise is paid Had I the smallest Spot of Ground which scarce Would Summer half a dozen Grashoppers Not larger than my Grave tho hence remote Far as S. Michaels Mount I would go to 't Dwell there content and thank the Fates to boot Here want of Rest a nights more People kills Than all the College and the weekly Bills Where none have privilege to sleep but those Whose Purses can compound for their Repose In vain I go to bed or close my eyes Methinks the place the Middle Region is Where I lie down in Storms in Thunder rise The restless Bells such Din in Steeples keep That scarce the Dead can in their Church-yards sleep Huzza's of Drunkards Bell-mens midnight-Rhimes The noise of Shops with Hawkers early Screams Besides the Brawls of Coach-men when they meet And stop in turnings of a narrow Street Such a loud Medley of confusion make As drowsie A r on the Bench would wake If you walk out in Bus'ness ne'er so great Ten thousand stops you must expect to meet Thick Crowds in every Place you must charge thro And storm your Passage wheresoe're you go While Tides of Followers behind you throng And pressing on your heels shove you along One with a Board or Rafter hits your Head Another with his Elbow bores your side Some tread upon your Corns perhaps in sport Mean while your Legs are cas'd all o're with Dirt. Here you the March of a slow Funeral wait Advancing to the Church with solemn State There a Sedan and Lacquies stop your way That bears some Punk of Honor to the Play Now you some mighty piece of Timber meet Which tott'ring threatens ruin to the Street Next a huge Portland Stone for building Pauls It self almost a Rock on Carriage rowls Which if it fall would cause a Massacre And serve at once to murder and interr If what I've said can't from the Town affright Consider other dangers of the Night When Brickbats are from upper Stories thrown And emptied Chamber-pots come pouring down From Garret Windows you have cause to bless The gentle Stars if you come off with Piss So many Fates attend a man had need Ne'er walk without a Surgeon by his side And he can hardly now discreet be thought That does not make his Will e're he go out If this you scape twenty to one you meet Some of the drunken Scowrers of the Street Flush'd with success of warlike Deeds perform'd Of Constables subdu'd and Brothels storm'd These if a Quarrel or a Fray be mist Are ill at ease a nights and want their Rest. For mischief is a Lechery to some And serves to make them sleep like Laudanum Yet heated as they are with Youth and Wine If they discern a train of Flamboes shine If a Great Man with his gilt Coach appear And a strong Guard of Foot-boys in the rere The Rascals sneak and shrink their Heads for fear Poor me who use no Light to walk about Save what the Parish or the Skies hang out They value not 't is worth your while to hear The scuffle if that be a scuffle where Another gives the Blows I only bear He bids me stand of force I must give way For'twere a slensless thing to disobey And struggle here where I 'd as good oppose My self to P and his Mastiffs loose Who 's there he cries and takes you by the Throat Dog are you dumb Speak quickly else my Foot Shall march about your Buttocks whence d' ye come From what Bulk-ridden Strumpet reeking home Saving your reverend Pimpship where d' ye ply How may one have a Iob of Lechery If you say any thing or hold your peace And silently go off 't is all a case Still he lays on nay well if you scape so Perhaps he 'l clap an Action on you too Of Battery nor need he fear to meet A Jury to his turn shall do him right And bring him in large Damage for a Shooe Worn out besides the pains in kicking you A Poor Man must expect nought of redress But Patience his best in such a case Is to be thankful for the Drubs and beg That they would mercifully spare one leg Or Arm unbroke and let him go away With Teeth enough to eat his Meat next day Nor is this all which you have cause to fear Oft we encounter midnight Padders here When the Exchanges and the Shops are close And the rich Tradesman in his Counting-house To view the Profits of the day withdraws Hither in flocks from Shooters-Hill they come To seek their Prize and Booty nearer home Your Purse they cry 't is madness to resist Or strive with a cock'd Pistol at your Breast And these each day so strong and numerous grow The Town can scarce afford them Jail-room now Happy the times of the old Heptarchy E're London knew so much of Villany Then fatal Carts thro Holborn seldom went And Tyburn with few Pilgrims was content A less and single Prison then would do And serv'd the City and the County too These are the Reasons Sir which drive me hence To which I might add more would Time dispense To hold you longer but the Sun draws low The Coach is hard at hand and I must go Therefore dear Sir farewel and when the Town From better Company can spare you down To make the Country with your Presence blest Then visit your old Friend amongst the rest There I 'll find leisure to unlade my mind Of what Remarques I now must leave behind The Fruits of dear Experience which with these Improv'd will serve for hints and notices And when you write again may be of use To furnish Satyr for your daring Muse. A Dithyrambick The Drunkards Speech in a Mask Written in Aug. 1677. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I. YES you are mighty wise I warrant mighty wise With all your godly Tricks and Artifice Who think to chouse me of my dear and pleasant Vice Hence holy Sham in vain your fruitless Toil Go and some unexperienc'd Fop beguile To some raw ent'ring Sinner cant and Whine Who never knew the worth of Drunkenness and Wine I 've tried and prov'd and found it all Divine It is resolv'd I will drink on and die I 'll not one minute lose not I To hear your troublesom Divinity Fill me a top-full Glass I 'll drink it on the Knee Confusion to the next that spoils good Company II. That Gulp was worth a Soul like it it went And thorowout new Life and Vigor sent I feel it warm at once my Head and Heart I feel it all in all and all in every part Let the vile Slaves of Bus'ness toil and strive Who want the Leisure or the Wit to live While we Life's tedious journey shorter make And reap those Joys which they lack sence to take Thus live the