Selected quad for the lemma: england_n
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A67518
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The school of politicks, or, The humours of a coffee-house a poem.
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Ward, Edward, 1667-1731.
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1690
(1690)
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Wing W753A; ESTC R4030
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8,604
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28
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Advertisement THE Memoirs of Monsieur Deageant containing the most secret Transactions and Affairs of France from the Death of Henry IV. untill the beginning of the Ministery of the Cardinal de Richelieu To which is added a particular Relation of the Archbishop of Embrun's Voyage into England and of his Negotiation for the Advancement of the Roman Catholick Religion here together with the Duke of Buckingham's Letters to the said Archbishop about the Progress of that Affair which happencd the last Year of King James I. his Reign Faithfully Translated out of the French Original Printed for Richard Baldwin 1690. THE School of Politicks OR THE HUMOURS OF A COFFEE-HOUSE A POEM Tantúmne ab re tua otii est aliena ut cures Terent. Licensed Apr. 15. 1690. LONDON Printed for Richard Baldwin next the Black-Bull in the Old-Baily 1690. THE School of Politicks OR THE HUMOURS OF A COFFEE-HOUSE ODES I. 'T WAS Claret that we drank and 't was as fine As ever yet deserv'd the name of Wine Each Man his Flask we thought a mod'rate Dose When just as we were giving o'er Comes in our honest Landlord in the Close Protesting we should drink his Bottle more Which done and all our Reck'ning paid Each did a sev'ral way repair Some went to walk and some to bed But I who had an hour to spare Went to a nighb'ring Coffee-house and there With sober Liquor to refine my Head II. What e'er th' occasion was I cannot tell Whether the Wine had discompos'd my Mind Or some false Medium did my Reason blind But so it was I took the Place for Hell The Master of the House with fiery Face Did like insulting Pluto seem Whilst all his Guests he did condemn To drink a Liquor of infernal Race Black scalding and of most offensive smell Trembling and pale I cross'd my self all o'er And mumbled Ave-Maries by the score At length by strange insensible degrees My fears all vanish'd and my Mind sound ease My scatter'd Reason re-assum'd its place And I perceiv'd with whom and where I was III. The murmuring Buzz which through the Room was sent Did Bee-hives noise exactly represent And like a Bee-hive too 't was fill'd and thick All tasting of the Honey Politick Call'd News which they as greedily suck'd in As Nurses Milk young Babes were ever seen The various Tones and different noise of Tongues From lofty sounding Dutch and German Lungs Together with the sost melodious Notes Of Spaniards Frenchmen and Italian Throats Who met in this State-Conventicle Compos'd a kind of Harmony Which did in Concord disagree Nay even Babel's fatal Overthrow More sorts of Languages did never know Nor were they half so various and so fickle IV. The place no manner of distinction knew 'Twixt Christian Heathen Turk or Jew The Fool and the Philosopher Sate close by one another here And Quality no more was understood Than Mathematicks were before the Floud Here sate a Knight by him a rugged Sailer Next him a Son of Mars Adorn'd with honourable Scars By them a Courtier and a Woman's Taylor A Tradesman and a grave Divine Sate talking of affairs beyond the Line Whilst in a Corner of the Room Sate a fat Quack the fam'd Poetick Tom Pleas'd to hear Advertisements read Where 'mongst lost Dogs and other fav'rite Breed His famous Pills were chronicled The half Box eighteen Pills for eighteen Pence Though 't is too cheap in any Man 's own Sense Lawyers and Clients Sharpers and their Cullies Quakers Pimps Atheists Mountebanks and Bullies Clean or unclean if here they call The place like Noah's Ark receives 'em all V. Had Lilbourn been alive to see This Hotch-potch of Society Some other measures he had ta'en When he the Work of Levelling began For All here stand on equal ground As I have seen in Storms at Sea For common safety all are willing found To hawl a Cable guide an Oar To stem the Tide and bring the Ship to Shoar So in this School of Polity Each thinks himself as much concern'd as they Who sit in Council Chamber ev'ry day And all their Maxims have a share Of the Professions which thcir Masters are The quick-eye'd Sectary pretends to see Under Lawn Sleeves the growth of Popery The Smith upon the Anvil of his Brain Forms a new Commonwealth again The Carpenter in his projecting Pate Makes Props t' uphold the tott'ring State The Quack too with his Close-stool Face Does with his senseless Reasons urge The British Islands want a Purge And Ah! Were he but once in Place He 'd but there stops and thinks the Age not fit To know the Wonders of his mighty Wit VI. But the chief Scene was yet to come Which was to hear the various Argument Which fill'd all corners of the Room Concerning the Affairs of Christendom I being seated to content List'ned with most profound attention to One of the loudest of the prating Crew Who after spitting thrice began Stroaking his Beard Quoth he Here sits the Man Who Thirty several Campaigns has seen At five and forty Sieges been And in both foreign and domestick Wars Receiv'd as many Scars As I upon my Head have Hairs You prate continued he to make you merry Of Sligo and of Bellishannon Of Carrickfergus and Dundalk And of the thund'ring Bombs and Cannon Were us'd at Siege of London-derry Mere stuff and nothing else but Talk Now if the Wars you would delight in And see the very Soul of Fighting Go but this Spring to Flanders Flanders the Scene of Action where Death keeps his Revels all the Year There are no Petticoat Commanders Things clad in red which have no braver Souls Than Parrots Apes or Owls But hardy Youths so us'd to ruff That their own Skins become a nat'ral Buff These are the Lads and I was one Although I say 't my self have often gone Through thickest Squadrons of the Horse And with my single force Made a whole Troop retire in haste This good old Blade which by my Side I wear Assisted by my Arm I swear Has kill'd a dozen Men before I broke my fast Nor living is that daring He Who but provokes this trusty Sword But shall At speaking of which word Two Serjeants came and laid Their Paws upon this daring Blade But so submissive and so tame Was this courageous Son of Fame The Company with Laughter let him pass To Prison for a most vainglorious Ass. VII Scarce was this Son of Thunder gone Who tir'd the Ears of every one Yet with his blust'ring Language warm But new Discourse began Talk understood by every one Concerning the late dreadfull Storm Lord Nighbour did you ever hear Says one so terrible a Wind I that have liv'd this threescore Years The like could never find How Sir replied his Friend have you forgot That blust'ring Night that Noll th' Usurper died When all the Winds in order tried Who should blow hardest on the Spot A Storm so dreadfull that 't was thought About by Witchcraft brought When trembling