Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A67512
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The miracles perform'd by money a poem / by the author of the humours of a coffee-house.
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Ward, Edward, 1667-1731.
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1692
(1692)
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Wing W746; ESTC R3744
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7,977
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26
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THE MIRACLES Perform'd by MONEY A POEM By the Author of the Humours of a Coffee-house T is Virtue Wit and Worth and all That Men Divine and Sacred call For what is Worth in any thing But so much Money as t' will bring Hudibras part 2d Canto 1st LONDON Printed and are to be sold by the Book-sellers of London and Westminster 1692. EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO Sir Martin Monyless SInce my very good Friend but now under the Hatches And as poor as a Seller of Brooms and Card-matches Thou hast left off thy Quibbles thy Songs and thy Catches Prithee leave off thy Sober dull Plodding and thinking And into thy Pockets get Ready and Chink in And then I 'le allow thee a Time for good Drinking For till then be thy Parts ne're so Modish and Florid Till with Darby's and Smelts thou thy Purse hast well stored There 's a Fool in thy Face and an Ass in thy Forehead What a Pox do I care for a Monyless Fellow If he speaks ne're so Witty he seems but to Bellow If he wants the true Blessings of White and of Yellow Till thou Mony hast got thy Brisk Humour will falter Till thou hast it ne're spare neither Temple nor Altar But a Word by the by Have a care of the Halter But let happen What will get some Mony how er'e Cog Flatter Dissemble Lye Swear and Forswear And attempt any Action a brave Fellow dare Be a Pimp or a Pander a Sharper or Bully A Decoy a Trappan or a Counterfeit Cully And never give ore till thou 'st done the trick fully Swear old Men are young and Queen Blowze is a Beauty Undo pretty Virgins tempts Wives from their Duty And be true to all Interests you think will be true t' ye Out-rail a Bilk't Coachman Out-banter a Wit Out-lye a News-writer out-promise a Cit Strive thy self to out-do if the Thing thou canst hit More Women deceive than did Wickham of late Religion or Bawdy or any thing Prate And put on all Shapes so thou get but the Plate Prithee never want Mony what ever may lack thee For when thou hast Mony no Friends will forsake thee But if thour' t without it the Devil may take thee Thy Friend if thou wilt be thine own Tom of Ten Thousand WHat mighty Magick does the World betwitch That all Mankind thus Covet to be Rich Daily plough up the raging stormy Main From East to West and all in chase of Gain Climb highest Hills through sandy Deserts go Over partcht Plains and Mountains clad in Snow The various Heats and Colds of Climates scorn Of both the Tropicks Cancer Capricorn Deprive their Nights of Rest their Days of Pleasure Grow Hoary-headed in pursuit of Treasure Swear and Forswear Equivocate and Lye Stick at no Oaths nor blackest Perjury Sons kill their Fathers Brother fight with Brother And all Mankind prove Wolves to one another Friends sheath their Swords in Bosoms of their Friends When with kind Love their Interest contends With wild confusion all the World spread o're Occasion'd by the search of Shining Oar The Secret would some Spirit but unfold From whence proceeds this mighty thirst of Gold Cease Foolish Muse thy Admiration cease Or to know nothing of the World confess For 't is a certain Maxim plain and clear Want of a Blessing makes a Blessing dear What Monied Man wrackt with Gout would not With a young healthful Beggar change his Lot With wholesom Scraps a vig'rous health maintain Rather than lye on Velvet Couch in pain If Love of Mony be the Root of Evil The want of it is certainly the Devil A Truth which ever was and ever will Be known to all the Brethren of the Quill Their Purses like Sprink-tides are sometimes swel'd And to the Brims with smiling Angels fill'd But Tides of Ebb do soon their Pockets drain And then they 're at low Water mark again Since then it is not by the Gods allow'd Poets should always find so great a good Wee 'l rail at what is not within our Power As did the Fox who swore the Grapes were sour Recount the various Wonders hourly done By Monies strange effective Force alone And the surprizing Miracles unfold Done by the Vertue of Almighty Gold Room for my Lord there be uncover'd Slave Bear back ye Vermin cries a sawcy Knave Walking before a Spark whose vast Estate Did's Title first and then Respect create Whose Grand-father perhaps was one so civil For Gold to go directly to the Devil That his dear Hony suckle Babe might be A Knight or else a Man of Quality See how he struts observe the humble grin Which by his Flatterers is return'd again Mark how they bow with most fantastick cringes As if their Bodies mov'd by Springs and Hinges A supple Slave then whispers in his Ear My Lord Gad judg me if you dont appear The most accomplish'd Person in the World Your Shape so clean your Wigg so neatly Curl'd Nay you 'r the only Man at Court which ere Knew how to Dress By Gad my Lord you wear Your Cloaths with such becoming Negligence As if you only put them on by Chance The Ladies all have laid their Hearts at stake And sigh and languish only for your sake At this my Lord affords a gracious Smile Listning to 's fulsom Flattery all the while By this time to attend his Levee comes A needy Poet twirling of his Thumbs And looking simply humbly craves my Lord The mighty Honour would be pleas'd t' afford As to become a Patron to his Play That is in other words be pleas'd to pay For fulsom Praise cramp't in a florid Story In the Epistle called Ded'catory By a small nod my Lord assents he will Which does the scribling Wretch will pleasure fill Homeward he goes by studious Arts to raise For gilded Quality some tinsel Praise Nay too too oft do Men of Wit and Parts Well read in Men in Languages and Arts Expose for want of necessary Pence To monied Blockheads their Immortal Sense Who by that Means acquire a lasting Fame And to Posterity transmit a Name Which in Oblivions Records else had stood With Names of Millions dead before the Flood Mong Wonders to which Mony makes pretence 'T is strange it shou'd supply the want of Sense Yet is an Ideot by Fortune blest With a full Pocket or a well cram'd Chest And by the means of his so large Increase Made Knight o' th Shire or Justice of the Peace At Quarter-Sessions when he sits in State Among his Brethren to Assess and Rate Tho nere so dull and flat yet what he says Is of By-Standers sure to gain the Praise 'T is much if when their Commendations Swell They say not Spoken like an Oracle Or if in mixt Converse where Business News Or other Talk does Company amuse The Man should chancc to Interfere and Prate For nothing noted but his great Estate If by the Hour he Nonsense should discourse Than which there cannot be a greater Curse
In Conversation yet they listen all And greedily snatch up the Words which fall From 's Mouth as if they were in modern Sense The choicest Pearls and Flowers of Eloquence But if on him the Itch of Scribling seize And 's labring Thoughts can never be at ease Till he in Print has to the World put forth A Piece as he esteems of mighty Worth Be th' Subject what it will of any kind It will not fail a vast Applause to find For there was ner'e a Scribling Monied Fop But found some greater Fool to cry him up If not much Prais d it will at least be said The Author wrote for Pleasure not for Bread Is Verse the Subject Tho' each Stanza chimes With as much Spirit as do Belmen's Rhimes Tho' ten times duller every Line appears Than Crowns late Daeneids or John Bunyans Verse Yet his flat Nonsense will the World prefer Before the Lines of Cowley Rochester Waller or Denham or the late admir'd Oldham who wrote as with a Muse inspir'd If Politicks his empty Pages swell He understands much more than Matchivel And does from newer Principles derive ye The grounds of Rule than Hobbs in Book de Cive Nay he how far the very bounds can show Prerogative and Priviledge may go And he has often tho' t' has been in 's Power Declin'd the Place of Privy Councellor Does History amuse his idle Hours He does with more Solidity discourse Of that grave Subject than can ere be read In Works of Baker Speed or Hollinshed If to mixt Subjects he his Pen applies What ere he writes is sure to find success His Flatterers will every thing admire Each Line each Sentence sets their Souls on fire All is Divine there 's not a Word amiss With joy they shake and weep with tenderness By this his Vanity so high is flown He thinks no Works so shining as his own If you in number of his Friends he takes Of 's Works to you he then a Present makes For which as 't is the Fashion now a days You must be sure the new Composure praise And tell him that the sottish World had lain In Ignorance had not his Learned Pen The Foggs their Reason clouded soon dispell'd And with rich thoughts their empty judgments fil'd Tho after all it is these Scriblers fate For little else but noisy Praise they get To have their very Works so much esteem'd By Flatterers to be at last condemn'd To wrap up Spice Tobacco Soap and Plumbs Under Pyes put or wipe the Readers B s And thus each lofty Line each mighty Thought Is to its final Execution brought If one by Fortune plac d in low Degree Reduc'd to Want and needy Poverty Living in Country Village all alone His Name to Parish-Register scarce known Should by some strange and unexpected Fate Become the Heir to Mony or Estate And is his part the better to maintain Ambitious to be thought a Gentleman Tho' by the ancient Stock from whence he came He was a Begger both by Sire and Dam Yet Learned Heralds can for Mony show From some rich Family he first did grow Tho for some time it may have been obscure His Ancestors came in with th' Conqueror If store of Or and Argent he has got He shall not fail to have 'em in his Coat Tho' Dormant Couchant long his Name did rest He shall have Lyon Rampant for his Crest And if hee l pay but briskly for the thing From John of Gaunt his Pedigree they 'l bring Thus store of Mony and a vast Estate Can of a Clown a Gentleman create But now another Scene appears in view A Scene which known Experience says is true Suppose then Reader that my Friend and I Ev'n in the days of Childish Infancy Such Freedoms take we afterwards improve To highest Offices of Friendly Love One Soul our diff'rent Bodies seems to move Alike we hate alike approve and love All lawful Pleasures we alike partake And each is free to Dye for t'others sake No Task thought difficult nor Danger great May firmer Unions of our Souls create And what crowns all we both have Mony store He vastly Rich I far from being-Poor But if by Fortune's strange capricious Spight On my Estate some sweeping Mischief light Some raging Fire my blooming Hopes prevent Or Loss by Sea or other Accident Strips me of all those Riches once I had My Diet mean my self more meanly clad Pensive and Thoughtful all day long I walk And to my self in broken Murmurs talk Having no Comfort but this Thought alone Tho Fortune 's fled yet Friendship is not gone Unwilling yet of Friends to ask Relief For there 's a kind of Modesty in Grief As yet within the compass of my Breast My Wants my Troubles and Afflictions rest Yet if at last my cruel Creditors Joyn all their Forces and unite their Powers To crush me and by Serjeants rude Arrest I 'm safely lockt in Ludgate's stony Chest But yet in Prison give my Thoughts some scope And entertain my self with starving Hope That my rich Friend since now I stand in need Will prove a real cordial Friend indeed I write no Answer comes I write ag'en Till I to Stumps have almost worn my Pen No Friend appears my dying Hopes to cherish There I may Lye and Rot and Starve and Perish At last when I 've more Messengers employ'd Then patient Job with their sad Tales anoy'd He sends for should himself in Person come He 'd be Infected in a Prison-room And lets me know that he is very sorry From Walls of Stone to hear my dismal Story But had poor luckless I two days before Sent the sad News he could with mighty store Have eas'd my wants and tho his heart was willing He could not now equip me with a Shilling For on the Morning of that very Day I sent he 'd paid all 's ready Cash away Or else when he the Message has read o're Pretends he never heard my Name before Lord how I wonder who this Man should be That sends this sad complaining Note to me I knew indeed a Wealthy Man o' th Name But cannot guess the Person whence this came Tho' he and I a thousand times have try'd Pleasures when sailing with a Monied Tide But now my Person 's utterly forgot And I in Gaol condemn'd alive to rot Strange Logick Can the Walls of Prison frame And prove the same Man is not now the same But if by some most unexpected fate By some Friend's Death I 'm left a good Es̄tate And from Confinement sally once again Of my Acquaintance what a mighty Train Who either shun'd or knew me not before Come cringing now and wait upon my Door In Anti-Chamber wait till I shall rise And with their Wishes my good Fortune bless While each one strives to do what ere he can For me the fortunate the happy Man With folding Arms my Body they entwine Their Fortunes Services their Souls are mine With winged haste at my Commands