Maronides, or, Virgil travestie being a new paraphrase upon the fifth book of Virgils Æneids in burlesque verse / by John Phillips, Gent., the author of the Satyr against hypocrites. Phillips, John, 1631-1706. 1672 Approx. 118 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 66 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A54765 Wing P2090 ESTC R30101 11244191 ocm 11244191 47083

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A54765) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 47083) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1448:18) Maronides, or, Virgil travestie being a new paraphrase upon the fifth book of Virgils Æneids in burlesque verse / by John Phillips, Gent., the author of the Satyr against hypocrites. Phillips, John, 1631-1706. [2], 134, [i.e. 152] p. Printed for Nathanael Brooks ..., London : 1672. Numerous errors in paging. Reproduction of original in the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library.

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.

eng Virgil -- Parodies, imitations, etc. 2002-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-11 Sampled and proofread 2002-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-12 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

MARONIDES OR Virgil Travestie: Being a new PARAPHRASE Upon the Fifth Book of Virgils AEneids in Burlesque Verse.

By Iohn Phillips Gent. the Author of the Satyr against Hypocrites.

LONDON Printed for Nathanael Brooks at the Angel in Cornhil 1672.

TO My Honoured Friend GEORGE VVHARTON Esq Treasurer and Pay-master of his Majesties Office of the Ord'nance in the TOWER. Sir,

THere is no man that puts Pen to Paper but has so much kindness for the offspring of his own fancy, as to think it may deserve some Charity, though it be but a Blew-coat entertainment. If men cavil at the subject, as perhaps some Paedagogues may for affronting their Classic Author) tis no more then if they should see Virgil himself now playing at the serious game of Irish, and by and by, turning the Tables, and trifling away a little time at the idle sport of Draughts. I know it is a rudeness to interrupt the serious studies of any person, but for the same person to take his own pastime is no ill manners to himself; though as to what relates to my defence, perhaps I may aver that he who reads the following pages may find so much of the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 intermix'd, as wilperadventure turn' emmore into a serious Satyr then a jocular story. Let others think what they please; if these extravagant howers of mine shall have the happiness to gain your approhation, tis' what I expect. The chief reason why I make this address to your self, being, because I am fully perswaded, that he who has been so true a judge of Loyalty, can be no less a judge of Ingenuity.

So I Remain Your Humble Servant I. Phillips.
Maronides OR Virgil Travesty. LIB. V. WHile Dido in a Bed of Fire, A new-found way to cool desire, Lay wrapt in smoke, half Cole, half Dido, Too late repenting Crime Libido, Monsieur AEneas went his ways; For which I con him little praise, To leave a Lady, not ith' mire, But which was worser, in the fire. He Neuter-like, had no great aim, To kindle or put out the flame. Both City dames and Croyden-Gillians, For ten mile round, were also fine At place prepar'd, ere clock strook nine. Young men and maids, Old men and babes, Lady's in Coaches, durty drabs, In wooden-heel shoos, and shoostrings blew, With headlong hast came all to view For people lov'd gaping after shews then as well as now. The fare renowned Trojan blades; And eke their solemn Masquerades, AEneas brought the prizes forth, Which were to be rewards of worth: A very noble Porridg-Pot, Two doublets very finely wrought The one half, silk, the other Canvas, Two Flagellets, a Treble, and base: An Engin, which, if I don't err, Great Artists call a Nut-Cracker: Trenchers two dozen, I don't dally, The which AEneas in a Sally, Plunder'd from Tent of Agamemnon, There was no reason to contemn'um Though they were brown, yet they were good And purchaz'd with the price of blood. One of old Priams greasie Hats. An instrument to murder Cats. The work of famous Aristander, Mathematician and Commander; Who fifty ways could Rats destroy And wrot thereof a Book in Troy. A Peuter Bowl enamel'd rare; He that distinguishes well teaches well. Two Slippers, two, and not a pair; For one was mighty Hectors own, The other Iason wore alone; The one was blew, the other green, Embroider'd both with Gold I ween. A Gittern whereon Helen playd, When very young, I mean, a maid. With many other Rarities To please the most ambitious eyes; The which AEneas liberal Expos'd to view upon a Stall. AEneas first beat up his Drum; Then taking Trumpet with his Here the Thumb is taken for whole hand. Thumb He sounds a Levet Tan, tan, ta, ra: He blew with such a Si sa ra ra, Until he got the Piles behind: Behold the mighty force of Wind! And then for silence making sign, With Eloquence the most divine; Quo he, let us begin by Sea, And with our Ships commence the Play. The Vanquisher that shall command Shall be rewarded out of hand, With such a prize, as he shall say, And for a truth affirm it may, When he came out of Mothers placket, That he was wrapt in Mothers smicket. Menestheus, and there hangs a tale, Chose the good Ship, yclepd the Whale, Who when he came to Italy, First founded Memmion Progeny. To whose geeat deeds, if y' are not privy, In English read, or Latine, Livy. Gias a young man well descended; The next place strove to be commended. For he was strong and very Chuffish, And a great diver was for Craw-fish. Sergestus was the third brave blade, Who, when he came to Rome, first made The house of Sergius far renown'd: Thence Galba came, an Emperor crown'd Now this Sergestus shav'd his head: For why? because his hair was red. But for the Ship he ruled o're 'Twas call'd, they say, the good Centore. He playd all Games at dice all weathers: And Fowl devoured in their feathers, For knowledge was not then prepar'd To turn-pike up their skins with Lard. Cloantus was the next brave Lad, In Drawers made of Canvas cladd. His good Ship was the Scylla nam'd Himself for little else was fam'd. Only from him and from his Dame, They say, Seignor Cluentus came. These only were the Gallant Boyes That strove to win AEneas toyes. Not far ith' Sea there stood a Rock, Your brains out sooner you might knock, Then move it, yet because it stood So near the Shoare, they held it good To make this Rock Contenders mark, He that first touch't it was a spark. AEneas full of wit and wile, Thought good to throw up cross or pile, T'avoid contention and more strife Then he intended; to be brief, The Galleys having took their place, The brave Commanders, each with face Like Lyons bold stood on the Poop, In one hand Brandy, t'other Rope. Quo they unto their Gally Slaves, As every one himself behaves, Here's this or this, take which you please, But this I think's most for your ease; I can assure you 'tis for mine. Then leaving Rope, take Brandy wine. That is, like Devils row, not men; So I and you shall honour gain. With that a generous heat invaded Their braunie Arms with Oyl bedaubed, And if their hearts went pit a pat, Twas only fearing they knew what. With speeches thus and courage spur'd, They wanted nothing but the word. The signal given, to't they go, With Head above and Tayl below: All at one time they make a start, T'ha seen it would have joy'd your heart. I'th name of ill luck see the slaves, How they do cut and slash the waves; How they do sweat! the more fools they; They need no Ushers to make way. In vain the Ocean yells and roars; You'd think'm rather Wings than Oars. And for the Ships— not many words, You'd swear they were no Ships, but birds. Have you er'e seen on Wilton Plain, Of gallant Coursers three or twain; How nimbly forward each one pricks, While their thin sides the Rider licks? So through the Sea the straining Galleys Are forc'd for their Commanders follies. See how the oyl of heated brows, Drops from their Foreheads on their Toes, Streight one the order breaks, and then, What say's the man commands the men? You may be sure he says no prayers; But to be sure, devoutly swears; Row, row ye Rogues, row for your lives You'l please the Gods, and please your Wives. Row Devils, d'ont ye proverbs know? What Devil drives, that needs must go. The pleas'd spectators they behold, And each one wishes, as he would Have the cause to go. Here prayeth one For friend, there mother for her son. With various clamours, various cries They all be-din th'amazed skies. Fair Eccho hearing such a clamor, Resolv'd to make one, as became her, Replying to the word Courage, Courage sometimes, and sometimes rage. Gyas so well his business ply'd, That he was got a spet and stride Before the rest: for understand ye, H'had been no niggard of his Brandy. Their heads were lighter by a Tun, Which made the Ship the faster run. Cloantus follow'd close a Stern, While t'other nails doth bite, and girn. His heel alas was heavier much A damn'd fly-bottom made by Dutch. The Whale and Centaure jig by joul, Swam very friendly to the Goal. But now these friendly Enemies, Men otherwise discreet and wise; Seeing themselves approach the place That gave them honour or disgrace; Now every one looks on his brother As if they could have eat each other. Have you ere seen upon the tiles, When Moon on tops of Houses smiles, Two great boar-cats, with sparkling eyes, Look each on other, while the prize, Grey Maulkin, couches in their sight, So Trojans now brim full of spite Wish that the ships and men also Might rather to the Devil go. Or to the bottom of the Sea, Than that his ship should lose the day. Gyas who thought his Pilot steer'd, Too Roomie, and some by-blow fear'd, Roard like a Lyon; ye damn'd dog, Why so far off, keep close ye Rogue, Why Menetus? son of a whore, I say keep closer to the shore. But Menetus was deaf as block. For his experience feard a Rock. Which if the ship it once should justle, Yfaith Sir Guyas might go whustle. Then Guyas in a fury falls, And yauls and bauls, and calls and yauls. Hei—Dotard, Pilot mine A— Hir'd by my foes and that is worse My youth of honour to deprive. Close; or the Devil fetch thee alive. Soul of a dog keep close a shore. But Menetus would nere the more. Mean-while Cloantus near at hand, Slides betwixt Guyas and the Land. Where Menetus had left the Shore, O Heav'ns! how Gyas then did roar. His choler boyl'd up like a Kettel, And in the heat of all his mettle, To Menetus he dings amain: He did not stand with serious brain T'advise if rashness were a fault; But in a moment, quick as thought, Griping his neck, as Poult'rers gripe, The necks of Turkies, Hens, or Snipe, He plung'd him headlong in the Sea, Sans complement or other plea. Go there, quo he, confounded fop, Fit but to make the Devil a sop And now to fetch Cloantus up, He takes the Helm in his own clutches, Quo he, Hell take the slave that grutches To melt his grease or break his back, Rather than let my Honour crack. By this poor Menetus that swum Not like a stone, but like a Drum, Had made a shift, a good one too, To scramble though without a Shoo, Up to the top of a small Cliff. No other Chamber, to his grief, He then could have to dry his hair; Each one of which might well compare To the best River in the Isle. His hary Arms he squeez'd er'e while, And fil'd at every stroak three pails. He frown'd and scowld, and bit his nails. The people that beheld his fall Yet sorry did not seem at all, Could not but laugh when they lookt up, And saw him on the peeked top Perch'd like an Ape upon his breech. They could not hear his raving speech; But judg'd him angry by his face, And twisting beard at his disgrace. By this advantage those behind That neither with their Oars nor wind Could hope before, now haul and tear, Thinking to put in for a snare. Sergestus therefore straining hard, Menestheus leaves i'the rear gard, Which he disdaining cries outwrite Ye cursed slaves, you row, you shite. You work as if your Arms were broke, Such scoundrel dogs the Devil choak. What Hospital have I dispeopl'd, For such a crew so damn'dly crippl'd. What Goale broke loose to vex my brains, With setter'd Arms and Feet in Chains? There go again damn'd rotten fellows, Good for just nothing but the Gallowes. Well Neptune hadst thou been so kind, T'assist me with one puff of wind, Thou shouldst have known, deny't who can, Thou hadst oblig'd a Gentleman. But since your worship plainly shews, The little love to me it owes; And that I must be yet beholding To these weak slaves, I'le leave off scolding. Row on my hearts, men of renown, Redeem your honour and my own. This picquant speech so prickt their souls, That they renew their strength in shoals. The truants dry before, grew wet; All on a suddain bath'd in sweat. Sergestus fearing they would rout him, With double fury layes about him. But wo for him in time of need, The more the hast, the worse the speed. For ill advised of a rock, The ship with such a wannion strook; Rash went the Keel, crack went the prow Some twenty Oars brake at one blow. Quo one, thrown off as he was rowing, l'th Devils name where am I going? Two hundred men were flung about, As, Man had been but a dish-clout, Like chairs and stools in Tavern fray, Here one and there another lay. Sergestus, more ith' suds than Sea, Misfortune would not yet obey. But made'm go to work again; And fish the pieces out o'th' Main. Chear up my boys, there's life in Mustle With that they kept a heavy bustle; And presently they got her off. They row and heave, and blow and puff. Sergestus daunc'd a Sarraband To see his men obey command. Now you must know that in the nick Of this mischance, Menestheus quick- Ly had the Centaur over-run. And seeing now his business done Oh! are ye there, quo he, stick fast, Till I come back; I'me now in hast; Which made Sergestus backward pray For the misfortune of the day. While poor Sergestus thus imbroil'd, Against the worst of evils toil'd, Menestheus heads young Gyas prow Quo he, hei—Gyas— what chere ho! Where's Menetus? gon to Peg Trantum? Such pocky Pilots who can want'm? Gyas made no reply for grief; But there he stood just like Lots Wife. His Ship like Horse without a bridle Made a great bustle, yet was idle. Cloantus straight he overtook: Cloantus that could hardly brook; Against his men he disimbogues A hundred Villains, Thousand Rogues. But 'twas in vain to keep a pudder, When men could hardly hold the Rudder. Thus from hard fortune Heav'n protect us! Cloantus victor now est victus. Menestheus now with wind and tide And acclamations on his side, Went on without competitor. 'Tis good you see sometimes therefore, To have the favour of a Whore. Cloantus seeing this abuse, Although what Seamen seldome use Yet in a case so necessary, From Custome yet resolves to vary. And though as mad as are March Hares, Compos'd his mind to say his Prayers. They say he made this brief Oration, Or rather sweet ejaculation. Ye Gods, that lodged in the Seas, Oft succour Vessels in distress, When overcharged with Hogsheads, And taking Rocks for feather-beds, They oft to him become a prey, That owes the Mannor of the Sea. And likewise, that which never fails, You set your Arses gainst the tayls. Of Galleys, when they want a wind, And blow'em forward with —behind; If by your aid my vessel slow Shall win the prize, I make this vow; An Ox shall be the Recompence, Of your Divine omnipotence; And then to please your appetite, That in Ragou's take much delight, The body shall be stuft with parsly; The Entrails spiced, and pepper'd fiercely. And for to treat you as my Minions, I do assure you of Champignons: With this a present of Greek-wine, To tope your noses most divine. And as for Fish, ye then shall surfeit On Salmon, Cods-head, Carp and Turbet. This vow attested with Cud—nowns, Made water in their mouths eft-soons. Immediately the Sea-Gods all, And Goddesses both great and small, To help Cloantus are agreed, In hopes so well to drink and feed. So by main strength they gave a shove, Or whether they the ship did move Some other way, that makes no matter But sure I am he got the better; Leaving Menestheus and the rest To follow him as they could best. Cloantus now in Port so safe, For Joy it made AEneas laugh. And after that he made a speech Which did the Company bewitch. And by a Herauld did proclaim The worshipful Cloanthus fame. And then with Lawrel crown'd his head In token he so well had sped. Then from his pocket forth he drew A Leathern pouch, both full and new; And gave the Mariners, I think, Some four Deneers a piece, to drink. And farther for their present Chear, He set a broach three tunns of beer. A Brigandine most gay and rich Cloanth to take he did beseech, Who though he then for joy did cry, To take the same did not deny. It was a very neat designe, For it was full of Pictures fine. By graver wrought there might you read, The History of Ganimed. Fair Ganimed great Ioves Bordachio, Whose Chin he prickt with his Mustachio. There the young squire you might behold With hunting Javelin on his should — Er, and you'd think he did pursue A Hart that fled, but neither true. Just in the nick an Eagle came, 'Twas wild on Earth but in Heav'n tame; Who being sent for his dear sake Takes perfect hold with Claws and beak And streight according to the plot, Away he carries little Trott. In vain his play-fellowes pursue The mighty bird, that swiftly flew. There you may see his Greyhound Placket, Seeming to keep a fearful Racket, Striving to leap into the Air: What noises he made ye cannot hear. And well it was 'twas but a picture, His howling else, as I conjecture, Cloantus might have made repent, Th'acceptance of his Ornament. The Painter yet did well t'express The Greyhounds love and tenderness. And Virgil too did well to shew, That he what painting meant did know. A Cuiras shap'd in Clouds of Gold, Menestheus had to have and hold To him and to his heirs for ever, They say a fairer was seen never. It was the Cairas of a Cap— Tain, that long since had the mishap (Mishap indeed) for to be kill'd, By great AEneas in the field. As fine as 'twas, it seems, the same Sav'd neither Masters life, nor fame. This Captain was Demoleon hight, Now being slain bid him good night. The Cuiras it was all of Gold, For twas so heavy that to hold It in their Arms, nor Sagaris Nor Phegeus could endure I wiss. You'd have me tell you, who they be, No by my truth, Ime not so free. Two brazen Kettles he gave more, Two gondola's without an Oar; Of Latten made, and worth each one, I guess, about a duccatoon. As for who 'twas these guifts deserv'd, Virgil is very much reserv'd. And sparingly divides the store, To Cloanth, only, and one more. Our knick-knacks were more freely giv'n, But how they'l get'm, that knowes Heaven: Now they that were contented well, Were well content by the sequel. Which made them on the sands to walk, For Liberty to chat and talk. As they were making their preambles Of their atchievments and their gambols, Repeating one thing ten times over; Behold! what is it they discover. Even Sergestus all forlorn; With broken Oars, and vessel torn, Making god-wot, a weak endeavour The Shoar in safety to recover. He lookt like one quite broke at speirings After some twenty thousand jeerings. For you must know he took't in snuff That any Rock should him out-huff. But in his passion came too nigh him, For Rock would not be hector'd by him, Which brought him unto weeping Cross, More for the shame than for the loss. Have you a Serpent ever seen, With skin so pompous, blew and green. Taking his pastime on the Road, When on a suddain the swift load Of hanckney-Coach his chine doth crack, Tearing his kidneys from his back. There moves the Snake brisk at the head, But by the tayl ill followed, So now the ship, in some part whole, In some parts full as washing bowl, And pinion'd quite for want of wings, Of Oars I mean, or such like things, Instead of swimming, briskly row'd, Moves like a Tortoise, only towd, At length with help of little wind, (Thanks to the little gale so kind) And Canvas saile, (live ever they, That Canvas first did bring in play) With much a do she made the Port: Sergestus, looked ala-mort. How'ere AEneas, good man he, Of poor Sergestus took Pi-tee. Tis thought there were some shavers there; Wisht'rather his, than their own share. Pox on't, quo one, would I had lost, I had sav'd my bones and yet got most. For for to comfort up his heart, And wash his tayl all mire and durt, AEneas gave him dainty maid; I mean a Nurse, whatere I sayd, With too small Children at her brest; So she could be no maid, 'tis guest. This woman was Nurse Pholoe hight She could both read, and pothooks wright, Her nostrel was so wide and plain, That you might almost see her brain, Though Cretan born, yet was she free, From lying or from thievery. Her face was something black and fat, And eke her Armholes smelt somewhat. She playd upon the Virginals; With Castanets could dance at balls; She could preserve, and also starch; And so to other things we march. AEneas quitting the sea-shore Betakes him to a feild; wherefore? Not so fast Tom; for you must know, The field was large and wild also. And Virgil says not to spoyl meeter, 'Twas like a Cirque or Amphitheter. There sitting on a peice of Timber, As far as I can well remember, AEneas that renouned widgeon These words did speak in language Phrygian My loving friends and dear assistants Twixt you and I there is no distance I come not here with tales of tubs, And therefore from your Nolberjobs Lend me your leathern Lugs I pray, And listen well to what I say. If any of you here will run, You may, if not, let it alone. Better occasion, friends, believe it ye, No man can have to shew activity. Better employment to your mind, Where can your mighty Lordships find, Then to bestir your Lordly leggs In running after Mumblede pegs? Sa, Sa, then come, make hast and strip; You know that time doth nimbly skip. As for your doublets, I shall watch'em: Hands nimbler than your heels must catch'em: And he that has a nimble thigh, Let him here shew it by and by. For he that with his active pumps, Can put his enemies to his trumps, Or fairly winn the first assault, The Cat hath still left in the mault Something which I as my great trust is Shall give to all with equal justice. This faithful promise being made, Their hairy bosoms soon displaid. The Trojans eke and mixt Sicilians That came to see were many millions, Or thousands, for what should I ly for? I fear I have err'd above a Cipher. But they that Poets read you know Will never stand for a round O: But if they should, 'tis hard in my sence, To be debarr'd Poetick Licence. Which Poets claim as more emphatick, Than Conscience free to a Phanatick Euryalus, a youth most proper Shews all to Ladies but his Crupper; For he had nothing on but's drawers The first of Trojan clapper-clawers. My Master Nisus next appears, He had less shame, but far more years. For he had nothing but his shirt, Under his twist with knot begirt. His love was great t'Euryalus, A pious love, and not for buss. Diores next sprung from the Race Of Royal Priam, shews his face, With Helymus and Panopes Hoy day,—and who I pray are these? Why these were two rich Farmers sons, Acestes great Companions. In fair, they hunted, in soul weather, They drank and play'd and whor'd together. Patron were next and Salias The one a bold Arcadian was, The other an Acarnan brisk, To run, or cuff, or tumble whisk: But which was one, or which was t'other, Maro himself doth not discover. Why then d'ye think I'le tell ye more. Than I my self was told before? Yet this I'le say that Maro could not, Or if he could, I'me sure he would not From one was lineally descended The Croyden Butcher so commended. The other to make out th'intreague, Forefather was of nimble Teage. Of all the rest we say but little, Since Maro spares to speak a tittle. All being thus resolv'd to run, Quo they, to great Anchises son, With guts discharg'd and bladders empty, Loe here our selves we do present thee. Streight-way AEneas sitting boldly On timber-log of which I told ye. By kind assistance of his tongue, Made'em, they say, this short Harangue He that of you shall run the best, By my dead Father three times blest, In no wise shall repent his bargain, For hear what I propose ye for gain. Two darts, both made of Gnossian craft, Of Ebonie shall be the shaft; Feather'd with Gold, which seems a Bull, But that I speak to men not dull. A Partisan of steel, but such An one, as you may make as rich, As any City leading staff, If you'l be at expence enough. To the three swiftest in the course I do design to give a horse. Though I confess, they have most need, That slowest are, of nimble steed: But that's all one, I'me bound to praise ye, And not give horses to the lazie. This horse shall have Caparisons Rich as the Queen oth'Amazons. There boy's, there goes the hare away, And I think worth the catching, ha! His quiver eke, and eke his belt, Cut from the brims of a broad felt, Embroidered all with work of Gold. Instead of shoulder knot, behold A glittering Pearl, three times as big As a large hen's or a duck egg. He that cryes hey—for our town, With olive branch him will I crown. The third shall have a morrion made At Argos, where it is their trade. I will not say how finely don, He's free to take, or let't alone. The signal given by the sound Of twisled trumpet, see the ground All in a cloud, and such a high one As wrapt AEneas like Ixion. Some said that sweat of heel and toe Would dust allay, but twas not so. For why to stop each 'others paces They kickt it in each others faces. Nisus had got by much the start, And as he ran, he oft did fart; Which much endammadg'd them behind, Having two foes, the dust and wind. For by this means he got before, Some two and twenty yards or more. Nisus behind, but far behind Ran Salius, like a nimble Hind, After him ran Euryalus; And close at his heels Helymus: Him Diores that was the last, Seeing'em all in so much hast, With malice now and rage ore'come, Gave such a kick upon his bum; That through the pain of his Posteriors, He now gives way to his inferiors. Nisus was just upon the mark, But see how fate can prove a Turk! For just ith'nick, he sprain'd his toe, There lay poor Nisus crying, oh— He bow'd so rudely to his toes, As made the blood spin from his nose. So there he lay as I have told ye, Swearing like a belfounder, boldly; When furnace cracks, and metals runn, As if the Devil were on Dun. He saw the prize was not for him; Which vext him more than did his limn. Yet though he lost his hope and glory, He had not lost the quick memory Of his Euryalus, so dear; For Salias now coming near, He seiz'd so fiercely on his shoo, That Salias comes headlong too. Salias got up, as mad as Weesel, Dings a good dust at Nisus muzzle; Nisus holds fast, and which is worse, ets his cursd fangs in Salias Arse. Nisus gripes hard, and rudely tears: alias curses, damms, and swears: Nisus is deaf, and nothing hears, But keeps him there, spite of his ears. Euryalus, thanks to his face, Thus got the Goal, and won the race. The rabble shout, and tear the Air, Favouring Euryalus the fair. They that beheld the real truth, Nisus and Salius, Arss and Mouth; Cry'd out hey now for our Town! Hold Nisus, hold, the Towns our own. The second man was Helymus; And Diores the third, so close He trod upon his heels that day, Men fear'd a quarrel by the way. But as it seems, they were more wary: They'd other fish to fry, then tarry. Then Salius came with great complaints, Swearing by all his Gods and Saints, That they had rob'd him of his fat Ox While plaguy Nisus seiz'd his buttocks. Diores intercedes for him, As one he thought had lost a limb; That since his luck was like his hurt, He might have satisfaction for't. AEneas scarce refraining laughter, Yet as a curteous moderator, Come, come, quo he, cease difference, Ye shall have all due recompence: Therefore, quo he, as friends embrace, And kiss now in another place. And so the injury was repayd, With Morrion made like Lyons head; The ears and eyes were all of gold And eke the teeth, fine to behold. So rich that Salias not deny'd, But he was fully satisfy'd. Then Nisus for to get comfort Presents himself all mire and dirt, From head to foot a Branford quag, About him never a clean rag: Now you may well observe, quo he, How my misfortunes vanquish'd me; And made me look so like a beast, For being nimbler than the rest. AEneas could not chuse but smile; Grieve not, quo he, at Fortune vile; For here is thy reward; with that He gave him a most precious Hat, Of damask silk, it was notorious. For Feather and for work so curious. By Didimaon wrought so neat; Quoth Nisus then, by Mahomet I'le weare thy hat both morn and noon-day, On every Holiday and Sunday. He lyes in's throat, that shall miscall Our Captain, that's so liberal. The Race thus finish'd without squabling, All anger laid aside and brabling, The Racers well content and merry; My masters Time for none will tarry; So said AEneas, the Minheer, Besides, quo he, bring Cestus here. Now you must know what Cestus was; A plaguy Poultice for weak jaws: A little touch with a weak hand, And presently a man was brain'd: A certain cursed Castanet For men to dance the broken pate. Two Iron Brickbats, each a Ring; Which he that best can weild and swing, To pound his Adversaries Pole, Was vanquisher of body and soul. To this same sport, that so men mauls, AEneas his Companions calls. Quo he, the man that has the heart For a prize that is not worth a fart, To venture brains, or loss of lymb, Let him come purchase my esteem. The Victors prize shall be a Cow With forehead plated you know how: With plates of silver and of gold, And linnen vaile about her should- Ers, white, and delicately starch'd, Like woman going to be Church'd. Besides an instrument of death, Eclep'd a sword, in Ivory sheath. And eke a Morrion, none oth'worst. Some said, he would have given that first; But then considering again, If he gave one he must give twain, They saw it was the wisest plot. For purse was his, the limbs were not. When any one is bruis'd enough, Quo he, and wishes to leave off; Let him while he his hands can use, Hold up his hand, or cry Kings scruce; If hands be maul'd confoundedly, Bid some good friend that standeth by. Thus said the Cestus was brought out At sight whereof like one devout They lookt with setled countenance, The view on't put'em in a trance. So that for all his cunning coaxing None seem'd to love this kind of boxing. At length not fearing Lymb nor torture Dares appears, a vast Wine-Porter, Who only could hold Paris tack, At this same play makes others cack. Who for to honour the memory Of valiant Hector had the glory. With this abominable weapon To knock down Butes like a Capon. The best that ever was at cuffing, Without a Ly or any huffing. Amyclus vast in strength and burden, And always bred at the Beargarden, Begot this Butes on a whore, That was half woman, half a mare. When Dares did himself present, It bred a great astonishment, His shoulders to behold, all bones, As big and stronger than Milstones; His Arms were rather Bull-eonfounders; In Paper-Mills you see such pounders. Now the Goliah's strength was all, As for his brains they were but small; You would have laught to'have seen the noddy To shew his mighty strength of body, How he did vainly cuff the Air. Boreas himself did not come near; And swung about his brawnie wrists, To shew what he could do with's fists. And when h'had done, to see the Looby How h'a faign'd to girn, like a great booby. Sa, Sa, quo he, what is there none Will let me break nor shin, nor bone. What nere a Knight that has a mind, To loose his eyes, and to be blind? This furious challenge was so dismall, That not a man would venture his mall. Trojans, Sicilians, all were dumb, As if th'had felt the weight of's thumb. Their Hector's now not worth a fart, As if th'had neither souls nor heart. Quo Dares, then the Cow is mine, To day how bravely will I dine. For who to Cow hath right more full Than I that am so like a bull? As the Devil said to the Collier. With that he took the precious Beast By both the horns upon her Crest. Bawling so loud, tell he was hoarse, Who of ye all now by main force, In hopes to eat a gallant supper With fist can Cow set on her Crupper? Chickens by Iove, you handle Cestus? You kiss mine Arse. He -Captain Festus (For so he call'd AEneas jeering,) Must I stay here all day Pickeering? As if I'had nothing else to choose, But here stand making Childrens shoos. Till some fond Caponet shall come, To be made Gelly by my thumb? Find me a match that will contest, Or let me carry away the Beast. At which one mad, what ayles that fellow? What ayles, quo he, that Bull to bellow? Why so much raving, so much tearing? Wee'l match his cock, for all his swearing. Acestes through the Rabble flung, As if a wasp his tayl had stung; Cud boars, quo he, shall such a thief With pain so little get our beef? Fuming he goes to seek Entellus, Whom, of such language nothing jealous, He found stretch'd out upon a banck, Smoaking Iamayca, cursed ranck; For interest will not ly. Ye Logger head, quo he, is this A time to sleep and smoak, I wiss? When all our honours ly at stake? Pox o'your drowsie hide—come—wake,— And shew how thou in times of yore, Hast cudgel'd many a lusty boar. Hast thou forgot the prancks and the tricks Which thou were wont to play with Eryx? Eryx thy Master at this game? To whom thou second art in fame. Cuts-foot! shall daring Dares quell us? While we have living brave Entellus. How many spoiles of Butchers bones Of Weavers Arms, and Dyers stones Hang in thy Chimney up like bacon? Of thy renown the certain token? For shame then let not this wind-sucker, At our disgrace thus sneer and snicker. Quoth he, thy words are positive. Tis not for fear as now I live, That Dares thus I let alone; But I am old aud feeble grown. Were I as young as I ha bin, This Raskal that makes such a din I'de pounce him so, that you should see, I'de make him soon cry me mer-cie, To Cow or Calf without regard, The slender motive of reward; Only for glories sake, ere this, I'had made him stink for fear, or piss. That this is truth ye know full well Yet that you may not take it ill, To shew I speak not words, but deeds; I'le try one bout at Loggerheads. If I am beaten, say tis Age, And no defect of my courage. Streight he flung down of dismal batterie Two fatal Engines, not to flatter ye, Nor yet to chafe your wanton Nerves, But for to stamp ye like conserves. Little they said, meant plaguely; Their very aspect made men flee. More afraid than hurt. Dares himself, to tell you true, Likt'em so ill, he look't askew. For they had on them fearful stains, Of Eryx blood, and part of's brains. Eryx who meeting at an Alehouse, With Hercules of's honour jealous, Streight fell to blows, from blows to knooks, The least of which would kill an Ox. What Eryx got by't, truely I Think he might well put in his eye. His eye! alas had there been less put, They then had living had the Toss-pot. Dares beholding such damn'd trophies, Think ye that Dares such an Oaf is, Quo he, to venture life in field, With weapons that he cannot weild. AEneas thinking twas a scandal, The mortal Engines needs would handle, But when he felt their weight, quo he, The Devil handle'em for me Seav'n folded Ox-hides stuft with lead, Some half a Tun in each, they said, With iron hoops and dev'lish nails, Such as you see about Cart-wheeles. Crossing himself, then said AEneas, viz his Goddesses.Per omnes meretrices meas, What hideous Tartar with a vengeance Invented first these fatal Engins? Puh! quoth Entellus; these are feathers; Those with which Hercules strapt the Gathers Of my friend Eryx, (peace be with him,) And sent unto the Elysian frith him, Were twice as big, and yet the Lubbers Would weild those mighty Noddle-rubbers As nimbly at each others coxcombs, As they had been but little box-combs. For my part cryes Entellus surder, I likes this well, I'me cleare for murder. But yet to shew I'me gamester fair too, If he'l have other, there they are too, I'le fight with any, ere spoyl play. And ye shall cap me, as they say, If at a blow or two at least, You guess, not who shall have the Beast. Then cry'd AEneas drunck with joy, Troth godamercy brave old Boy. Bring me a pair of Maul cheeks hither; But not so heavy as the other: Others were brought, and after tryal, Approv'd without the least denyal, Both for their bigness and their huffing, By Doctors in the Art of cuffing. Belonging to Beargarden Colledge. One takes Entellus; t'other Dares, Saying a hundred Ave-Maries: For it had almost turn'd his stomak; Entellus shape did such a shew make. Such shoulders, Buttocks, bones so hideous, A Chine so nervous, brest prodigious. For to say truth he nothing hid; Both shirt and coat were layd aside. If shirt he had, for else you know, What he had not, he could not shew; And in matter of such weight Men must be cautious to speak right: Zabarel l. 200 p. 20000.For if he had no shirt, and I, Do say he had, I tell a ly. But now behold'em in their traces, Making wry mouths and Monkey-faces, They dance Step stately to take aim, Who first should give the first damn'd main. At first they slightly seem'd to skirmish, But straightway fury growing warmish, One gives the other plaguy palt, Which was return'd the next assault: Young Dares was more nimbly stout, Entellus was the stronger Lout. With weapons pois'd, and fists erect, With burning eyes and fierce aspect, They now lay on sans feare or wit, As if they car'd not where they hit. Their Lungs are tir'd and breath in vain, Their naked Members pant amain. Such force have bumping blows apply'd, To Diaphragma, or the side, Secundum artem, as they knew, To make men vomit black and blew. Sometimes a loving blow did miss, Then t'other was not griev'd I wiss. Streight you might hear his guts cry twang, And t'others skul ring with the bang. While all his reason takes her flight, T'had been no reason else, You might have believed him without swearing. by this light. Sometimes with stroaks strook unawares, They only rub each others ears. Dares with many a nimble leap, At old Entellus head doth skip- Unweildy he stands stiff and tough, Without recoyling from the cuff. While Dares with a dreadful eye, Stood watching his huge Enemy. Woe worth that rib which he shall find, But once ungarded to his mind) As men that Walls and Castles batter, Seeke weakest place to make'em torter, And having found what they intended, With all their fury thither bended. Mauling and battering their insistunt, Though th'had as good perhaps a pist on't. Thus Dares watching still for harm, Harm watch harm catch Caught from the bold Entellus Arm, Such a damn'd lick athwart the back, As made his very bum-strings crack. Dares, but how the Devil't twas done, Is past my apprehension, Returns him such a thumping quitt, As for his quo, 'twas out of debt. These blowes each equalled in stress, Some twenty pounds or little less. And Virgil saies in his relation, That the through force and indignation With which Entellus strook and mist, His aged Trunck the Grass-plot kist. That he fell down all hands agree, Let them that doubt the truth go see. And more than that too a shrew'd signe, They say he fell like mighty Pine. There lay the huge Entellus sprawling: For joy the Trojans fell a bawling; While he enraged at the flounce, Doth all his Gods at once renounce. Proud spirits had rather be damn'd than suffer disgrace. Acestes and AEneas brave, Both willing the old man to save, Where er'e they had it, got a Crane, And so they cran'd him up again; Being got upon his heeles once more, Six lustie Common oaths he swore, Though for his manners such a sot, That all his thanks he quite forgot. Having recover'd now his place, With rage in heart, and shame in face Finding what ere he yet had done, But fleabites in comparison. Quo he, now let him look to his hittings, By Iove I'le handle him without mittins. Poor Dares was in great dejection, Your strong men are not always the wisest. Seeing Entellus Resurrection. He that before thought worst was past, Seeing his foe so rudely cast, And therefore sang his nunc dimittis, Now at the end of all his wit is. There was no way but guard to keep, Better h'd been in's bed asleep. T'other lay's on cuff after cuff, Not minding whither's skin be buff. His bended clutches damn'd Memento, Make flying Dares daunce Coranto's Entellus bounty fell like hail, Not sparing either head or tayl. Dares afraid his reasons house (Though he had scarce so much as goose) About his batter'd ears should tumble, Was half ith'mind in manner humble. To crave in time a Letter of Licence. He lik't not banging sans defeizance. While t'other labors all he can To make a window to his brain. Dares was in condition sad, His face was swell'd big as his head, His head was swell'd as big as his hat, And he himself just falling flat Upon his bloody bruised nose; When all in hast AEneas throws Himself between the blowes so thick: Good faith 'twas well he came ith'nick. For had he had but one more thwack Upon his head or his Sto—mack Dares had given the Crows a pudding; And Death had come before his Wedding. For now Entellus Clawes were up, And falling just was fatal swop. But just in time AEneas spruce, And brave Acestes cry'd, Kings scruce. With coaxing words AEneas mellows The bloudy heart of vex'd Entellus. Good words apease wrath. Good Sir quo, he your wrath forbear, Man stout at Cuffs, as ere stole Deere, Next time shall Dares learn more manners Then let his wits be his Trappanners, Thus to provoke a man whose wrists Can powder Rocks of Amethists; With nailes like fleas crack Adamants; And puff down Armed Elephants. These gentle words made Gaffer Thwacksides Most patiently lay by his Ox-hides. Such credit had AEneas there, Quo he, your will be done Menheire. Then Sir AEneas, turning face To him that was in doubtful case; So bruis'd and batter'd, and so swel'd, (He scarse could stand unless upheld) Made him to the best of my memory, This pithy speech consolatory. Holding him gently in his arms, Quo he thou needs not others harms, For well thy own, without a book, Now teach thee with both eyes to look Before thou leapst, and not to venture, Before thou knew'st thy bold Attempter. Had not thy Foe been very handsome, He had destroy'd thee without Ransome. For now confess and speak as true man, Do you beleive his hand was human? As sure as thou wert bang'd to day, He keeps the Devil himself in pay. Therefore, All this should have been said before. if legs will beare thee, go, Weake boxer of the driving snow, Go get a Surgeon, Noble Festus, And dream no more of pounding Cestus. The poor young knave all soare with banging His neck upon his shoulders hanging, Eyes sunck in a black quag of butter, Or flesh well churm'd, few words could utter. But softly cry'd to show's respects, Farewell Sir, till I see you next. He could no more in Prose nor Rhyme, Not had he courage at that time To bring his fingers to his chin To see what teeth remain'd within. His beard was all bedaub'd to see a With a damn'd soul Haimoragia. The place where Nose stood, you might know it But nere take hold on't for to blow it. The Trojans they came all to much him, He wish'd'em damn'd that did but touch him. For so his batter'd Corps did smart, That every touch went to his heart. Then Dares two Companions chose, To comfort up his broken Nose. But both the Crown and eke the beast. Entellus got by dint of fist. Who now like toad on washing-block, With conquest swell'd, thus gan to mock. Weak Trojan fops both young and old That enviously this day behold The Victory that I have won; Come see what more I could have done, See against what a firking foe, Your Dares stript from top to toe! Had ye not drag'd his Homo-Plater From our inevitable slaughter. You should have seen how I had rub'd him, And mong the Devils belly bub'd him. This said his furious fist he clutch'd, And twixt the horns so rudely touch'd. The Bulls head that from head of Bull Came brains and blood a Kettle full. Though the Rhime made it a Bull 'twas otherwise a Cow. So died the Cow without adiew, Or making will in minutes few. Then with a heart full of repentance, And mind prepar'd forpious sentence, He cry'd beholding the blew skie, With doleful face and blubbring eye. Eryx, to thee, my Counter-part, I give this Bull with all my heart, For Dares sake, who has my prayers The best of living Cudgel—players. Here will I Chappel build, or Pest-house Where horns shall hang and eke my Cestus. If Dares dy here shall he be Entombed likewise, close by me. No question we shall then agree. They that Entellus saw turn'd Priest, Yet knew he was a damn'd Atheist, Rais'd such a shout at his conversion, As shook the Earth like Ague tertian. So long this hubbub did continue, 'Twas fear'd that some would break a sinew. Which made AEneas in compassion, And for another dirty fashion, Which was to have no shouting known, At any speeches but his own. Enough quo he, enough I say; How long must I hear Asses bray? I'de rather a had a pack of knaves, Than such a crew of simple slaves. Enough this curs'd Cow killing sport, There's none but one the better for't; Come bring me out your Bows and Arrows And if ye needs will kill, kill sparrows. Thus having got some good Companions, All in a row like ropes of Onions, Quo he bring hither Galley Mast, And set it me upright and fast; First having ty'd at top of it, A Pigeon, or a Clout beshit, It matters not so mark be hit. The lots were thrown into a hat, Or Helmet, 'tis the same thing that: At which they fum'd like a hot tost, To see that Fortune rul'd the rost: For each one fear'd to be put out From being one should hit the clout. For he was Dominus fac totum AEneas said he'd have but four; And who durst say then, he'd ha more, But four then drawing, stone-blind Chance Ilippocoons Honour did advance. A fatal murderer of wild-Ducks, A foe profest to Dawes and Rooks; The second fool whom fortune favours Was Mister Mnesteus, a Sea-Mavors, Whose head with Olive had been crown'd, For swimming well, and not being drown'd. Of whom I shall say little more, Since I have said so much before. Master Eurytian was the third; He'd hit a Curran in a turd. Which made him cry'd up for an Archer. His brother yet was much the archer; His brother Pandarus, wot ye well, Who taking bow of pliant steel, Without so much as one bear leave, The Cuckold Menelaus gave Such a dam'd prick through buttocks each, That Helen nere so claw'd his breech. Acestes was the last forsooth, Who although old, with so much Youth Would needs contest for skill and strength; What he got by't you'l know at length. Hippocoon his goggle eyes Casting a thousand times to the skies, First hit the top oth'mast, I trow: A lower shot, had been below: The bird with that affrighted, try'd T'have flown away, but she was ty'd. And so she only flapt the Ayr; He did no more as I can hear; While bird thus flutter'd on the wing, Menestheus shoots and cuts the string: Whether the bird, do you now think, That but ere while for fear did stinck, Now finding Leve to be light, Did not make hast to mend her flight. But shame on all Ill luck say I, That faster then a bird will fly, How orderly this bird was killd? first frighted, then the string cut, Theu rump stic'd. For as the Bird was on the wing, Eurytion snapt his fatal string: Though ere he drew, he made a prayer, To Brother Pandarus in his ear, The which his brother soon did heare. And so as bird was tripping off, (Not dreaming but she had been safe) The Arrow peirc'd her pretty rump, And made her turn up belly trump. 'Twas then no time to take advice How to avoid the fatal slice; Streight with a vengeance down she come, Like one that feard not bruising bum. He that the day came after fair Was now Alcestes, by compare. Ther's nothing left for that old fop, Less he would set his own head up. But what said the Facetious Drole, Quo he I'le not be made a fool, One of Feltous resolv's Suppose that yonder sate an Owle, Where bird was ty'd; why may not I My brother hit? by Iove I'le try. He drew, but wonderful to see His dart became a prodigie. A prodigie that friz'd the hair Of every mortal that was there. 'Twas here a dart, but mounting higher I'th air becomes a flame of fire. Like whizzing Rocket up it goes Had Owl been there, 'thad sing'd his nose. Or else as Pub. says better far, Like volant or crinited starr. In English certain flying jigs, Or stars with flaming Perriwigs. The flame continued while it could, That is to say while there was wood, But fewel wanting due recruite, The fire went out without dispute. Upon the whimsical adventure Was many a thousand peradventure; A hundred strange Enthusiasms; Lights new as that, and fond phantasms The most renowned Augurs ply'd Their painful studies, and discry'd A thousand stories and keck shoes, To lead the doubtful by the noses. The Phrygian Conjurers could not rest Sicilian Bards were all possest. Nay all the Rabble had a maggot, Bigger in head the stick of faggot. AEneas in a pious frolick Pulls from his neck a certain relick It was a chain of gold, at which, There hung a medal very rich. 'Twas all of broyld St. Lawrence left, And gravd upon an Agat haft; To that annext in Christal hung The very Cole that burnt Saint's tongue. Thus gifted came he to Acestes; For to say truth many that nere saw it doubt it to this howre. Great Sir, to you my deep protest is, That for an Archer there was none Was ever fit to wipe your shoon. Who would the Devil himself not blame, Not having seen, to credit fame? For who can think that did not see, That thou couldst little bit of tree In th'Ayr at distance come to fire, By Iove it maketh me admire. Fore George, as I am come of woman, Iove owes thee kindness more than common. As for my part, the heavens protect thee, Like my dead father I respect thee, And than my Mother ten times better, If now I ly, then hell me fetter. What though the prises all be gon, Thou shalt have presents of our own, To satisfy for thy ill luck, That mark so surely from thee took. With that he made him three low leggs And gave him the foremention'd jigs. And more then all that, something more, (Which I it seems forgot before.) A goblet of a massie weight, A work emboss'd most accurate, This cup so trimm'd with fine devices Was for a fairing, sent Anchises By Cissus a good friend of his, Who living, Club did never miss; But being dead, yet every night, In dear remembrance of old Knight, Anchises made the Goblet weep, Till both forgot, he fell asleep To make the Ceremony stanch, He Crown'd him with an Olive branch; A most exceeding favour that, Because he seldom wore his hat. Eurytion nothing envious To see him first rewarded thus, AEneas wisdom did approve; AEneas thank't him for his love, And gave him eke a good reward; For civil men by civil regard To generous spirits, seldom loose. Menestheus had his old shooes. Hippocoon two nutmegs guilt: For where the text imploys a guilt, By mentioning no gifts at all; We judge the gifts were very small. From Archerie to Horsmanship They next proceed with spur and whip. Epirides the first appear'd With chin conceal'd in monstrous beard; He was Ascanius Padagouge. A most austere ars-firking dog But yet esteem'd as learn'd a Sir John, As ere was bred up at the Sorbon. He could compose a Catch or Cannon, And verses make with George Buchannan. Native of Rion in Auvernia, But plagu'd with a diseafe call'd Hernia. Soon as he came before his betters He shewd himself a man of Letters, Making a hundred ugly scrapes, Like Scholar that the Courtier apes. AEneas soon as one could wake him, Spies formal fool, and thus bespake him; Epirides where's my Cock-Robin? Will he a while leave placket-bobbing, And for a Steed leave riding wenches? Then give him Horse fit for his inches. Where's all the other younger fry, Have they their Coursers fit to fly, To let the world know by their fooling; Their parents gave'em no mean schooling? Go quickly then and fetch'em all: Epirides with legs so smal And Thighs as dry as Kixes, though As swift as arrow out of bow, Made so much hast, that some protest, He leapt full thirty foot at least, At every leap; for such men fly Always, when th'are in Masters eye. Returning like the flowing surges, With a whole troop of young St. Georges. They were as plump, and loo'd as fairly As hogs, that ly all day ith' Barly. Their Horses like a several bride, Both necks and tayles with Ribands ty'd. Inn's a Court gentlemen all they were, And every one a sling did weare. Not to sling love-songs cross the way, But slugs and stones in deadly fray. Arrows and Bows did others weare, Which Parents gave at Bartholmew Fair. For then were no such things to smoak ye, As fierce Dragooners under Okey. But others like your French gens d'armes, Had Spears and Lances for their Armes. Their right paws were in Gantlets cas'd, And roaring feathers hats embrac'd. About their necks they Cuirass had, Of double guilded Lattin made. Some for right mettle did them hold; But all that glisters is not gold. Three Captains lead three neat squadrons, With Scarfs of Lindsey Woolsey Aprons, For in three squadrons were the Chuffs, For the use of Colours was not then in fashion. Distinguished one by Spanish Ruffs. The next were hats with Steeple-Crowns, The third the Switzers Bonnet ownes. One of these Chiefs that was no dastard, Of poor Politus was the Bastard. The younger son of Priamus, Who knockt down Neoptolemus; In Pages Trouzes up he mounts, A Carriers horse, by all accounts, But such a one, that dress him well Would clear outrun the Divel of Hell. And sooner would he leap a River, Than some a Cart-rut should get over. The next to him was Asys hight, Iulus love, and sole delight. Though to be plain, if all tales are true, More for his tayl, than for his vertue. What Horse he had, Gelding or Mare, Virgil is pleas'd to speak to spare, But questionless the trade he drove, Got him well mounted for his Love. Some men admire why such a one, Is favour'd by a mighty Don; But search the grass well with your eyes, And you shall see where the Snake lies. Ascane as young, lastin degree, Was yet the first in quality. His gaudy coat and feather'd hat Made all the people cry, who's that? But far beyond his glittring garb, His Courser was a Chestnut Barb. Not such a shap'd or nimble steed, Did all the fields of Siden breed. 'Twas Didos guift, though when she made it, Had she known all, he ner'e had had it. This Horse was only fit to show On Whitsun-holidays or so; He was a perfect Ram for Capring; And many a Knight for all his vap'ring, Unless he held fast by his Crest, Would put him in danger of his Chest. But let him all his jades tricks try, Run Valley low, or Mountain high. Or play the Divel on all four, Iulus sate him like a Tower, So well he govern'd hand and foot, As he had been George Castriot, Or one of Don of Austria's Riders; Which he's a Coxcomb that considers. For all the other meaner squires Acestes common Hackneys hires. Geldings for some, for others Mares, With Fillies pricking up their ears. The Trojans clapt their hands by dozens, Seeing the Children of their Cousens. Here some of whom they knew the Mothers, There some their own, though got by others, And every one as fine as fippence, And and all prepar'd to run for thrippence. See youth, cries one, on yonder Mare, Mothers n'own boy, both lip and haire 'Twas pretty thus to hear'um read, How living face was like the dead. Such pretty cheeks with pretty dimples, You shall not see in both the Temples. Though then they look'd a little whitish, For fear least Courser should prove skittish. At length when every pretty Elf Had in his Saddle fix'd himself. Epirides with nimble flack, Makes whipcord briskly cry smack-smack. At which they all alarum take; Far better, than their Steeds, divining By sound of whip-cord, Pedants meaning. Streight the three squadrons they divide In bodies two, or Maro ly'd. Some fly away, while some pursue, And at their backs with switches flew. But feeling smart, make head again, Ribrosting t'others for their pain. Weary of being thus lambasted, Eft-soons to milder sport they hasted. Here three to three, there two to two, There more, (hey toss what's here to do!) They prance and frisk it to and fro; Foe runs in full career at foe; When to accord the sturdy knee, And skil ful trip, with Hait or Gee, (Which horses learn without much trouble) In full career they make a double; So Huntsmen say; but Horsemen, turn; Turn let it be then, for I scorn Much contradiction; that's to say, They did as girls that dance the Hay. These pretty Turn-again-Whittingtons, Made by these Gentlemens eldest sons Their cross careirs, Turns whole and half, Which Father made and Mother laugh, Were like the Labyrinth so pretty, Once fram'd by Daedalus the witty, To Minos Sarjeant-Carpenter. Within whose walls as men did err, Or go astray, or vainly wander, Not knowing tricks of gay Meander; So these young sprouts of Troy renown'd, Sometimes their Horses turning round, Now running in a streight careir. And sometimes doubling here and there, Like nimble Dolphins seem'd to play, Like Dolphins in the Lybic Sea. When Boreas bold, thank Boreas for't, Is pleas'd not to disturb their sport. Then out comes Fleabit and Tregonnel And hey for Strawberrie, that last won all. Some run for Crowns, and some for Guinies, The cunning Jockies cheat and punies. But last of all, that which was most, They rais'd a most confounded dust. And thus you see these youths so cranck Shew'd Parents many a pretty pranck Being a notable politician. Which afterwards Iulus, He That founded Albas fair Citee. Becoming King most powerful, Did recommend by special Bull, Unto his Race of Romans bold, For to observe and eke to hold, As sacred to their fathers names, By Title of the Trojan Games. And thus you see what slight occasions Men take sometimes to Cajole Nations While wise AEneas thus imployes, His time in gaping upon boyes, Fortune, who being of Greek extraction, (And therefore of the Grecian faction)What won't great people do for their own ends. Hated a Trojan at her heart; Resolves to shew him to his smart, Another of her plaguy dog-tricks, Iuno, old Priam's dear Exec'trix, More full of mischief than a Page, Plump as a Tike with female rage, To trusty Gossip, Iris hies, A practis'd bitch in telling lies, Iuno her mind did soon impart, Which Iris had as soon by heart, Quo she, for words there needs no pumping, I know your meaning by your mumping: So brib'd with promises and dollars She flung an old scarf ore her Colours; Away she cuts her airy passage, To prosecute her damn'd Ambassage. And as she went, her legs she shews, Full neatly clad in crimson hose Well garter'd too, above the knee, As they affirm, that both did see. Slow was her pace, for being plump She fear'd to fret her tender rump. From Arcady, without a wherry, She quickly crost the Ocean ferry. And cause the Road was straight and free, She was not long from Sicily, Where she beheld, in Armor glittering The lazy Trojans scaperloytring The Fleet was left like Theif in Mill, Or to be gon, or stay, at will. Nor Dog to bark, nor boy to baul, What ever danger should befall; Both boys and dogs were all ago To see my Lord AEneas show. The women by themselves afar, Were private from these acts of warr As 'twere in publick hugger mugger, Clawing away the sack and Sugar, Till crying ripe, the wine intices Some to bewail defunct Anchises. While others at misfortnune wept; Well well-quo one, time was I kept As good a house for East-cheap beef, As she that was Church-Wardens wife; And for good Pewter and for Brass And dining Room rub'd with a gloss, I had as good as most ith' Parish Though some perhaps might make more flourish How long shall Ladies nice of stomack Be forc'd to ly in swabbers Hamock? How long shall women bred so squeamish? Ly nose in ars midst Hogo's flemmish? Others that were more finely Maudlin Call'd poor AEneas Goose and Codlin, Come, come, I love to speak, cries one, Theres Captain turd, let him alone, Let him but drink while he can see, He cares not what betides poor we, He crams his guts as at a wedding, While we are glad of hasty pudding. Where is the City that he promis'd? I doubt I shall be ana—tomiz'd. Ere that day come: he might ha'had Cities enough, would he have staid; But he would needs have to'ther toss. Your rowling stones ne're gather moss. While cups and tongues thus fast do move, As both for nimbleness had strove, Iris that saw their drunken posture. Quits shape divine betokning moisture; With staff in hand, on eyes spectacles, Like wife of Doricles, her self she tackles, And old Witch that had liv'd so long, She had forgot that she was young, For the reversion of whose joynture, The fifteenth race had cry'd, God Saint her. Though she were old, yet she was subtle, And to the purpose well could prattle. My Grannam Berce she was hight, Though dark with age, the Ages light. Mischievous Iris in this form Appears in midst of all the Chirm, To whom as soon as she could make, 'Em hold their clacks these words she spake,Which she was half a day a doing Poor women, Poor unhappy women! Companions only now for Seamen, How long with grief must ye contend, Oh where shall be your sorrows end? Had ye not better that the Dolopps Had long since cut ye into Collops? Then from vexation of your souls Y'had lain secure among the Moles. Rather than thus to live at Sea Half dead with hunger every day: Your hands that fanns did only dandle, Now forc'd the rugged Oar to handle, Distress'd inhabitants of Pinnaces. To whom the Sea destruction menaces. That live in boats, where ticks and fleas, Without respect of persons seize: Rather then lead a life so fell, Women had better live in Hell. 'Tis now seaven years, or little less That you in cold and heats distress, Poor wrinkled weather beaten Madams Lead by the noses like Iack Adams, In vain do hunt the flying shore, Which Fate has promis'd ten times ore; A tale that I shall nere believe, Nor pin my faith upon her sleeve. Let her go on and vainly coax Our credulous leader, Iohn, Anoaks. A quartan Ague stop his Lungs. For him we have endur'd these wrongs; But heres anow, lets have a care: Why can't we tarry where we are? What ailes this Country? tis both good And Govern'd by our flesh and blood. Let's build a Town among our kindred, Our freind Acestes nere will hinder't There we may play our wanton tricks, Not subject to the Oceans freaks. Our Country Gods I pity too, Han't they a fine time? what think you? Snatch't from the rage of Grecian Robbers. To be made Cabin-boys and Swobbers Fools! can we hope for so much joy, Ere to revisit your old Troy? Or Symois, fam'd for Morehens plenty? Or Xanthus nere of Gudgeons emptie? Then let's go burn those pocky Vessels; That are not fit to harbour Weasels. This night my candle burning blew, Cassandras Ghost my Currains drew, Quo she, why wander ye like Tartars? In Sicily take up your quarters. What will ye always live like Barnacles? That may have Towns like Athens, or Naples. Always be swimming on the Seas, Like VVidgeons or like Soland Geese? Burn then those fly-boats, why d'ye tarry? If husbands chafe, ye have your Lurry. Behold four Altars newly rais'd Where sacrifices lately blaz'd. To Neptune for some curtesies, VVhere fire enough in Embers lies: Find you but hearts, the Gods find flames, Courage then, thrice Immortal Dames. Take leave of damn'd seafaring trade, And of the ships make a Grilliade Be you but bold, I don't say cruel, The Gods find fire, and yonder's fuel. This having said the plaguy strumpet, Takes up a brand, and stead of trumpet, Blowes the hot coal, to wake the flame, Go then, she cry'd ith' Devils name. VVith that so swift she flung the brand, As sent it soon to journeys end. And where as soon, it was apparent He dally'd not to tell his arrant. Dames, that before nere saw such jigs, Began to stare like roasted Pigs; They star'd so long you would have thought Their very eyes would have dropt out. They knew not what to think or say, For all the stuff they had, there lay. Here soft compassion to her Kettle, There pity'd pinner stops her mettal. Another gins her cheeks to wet, In mercy to her Cabinet. At length steps up an ancient Matron, That Priamus by strings of Apron, Had often lead, as being one, Had nurs'd him many a Girl and Son; Whom she their Primars also taught, And firkt their royal tayls for naught. This venerable peice of Age Hight Pyrgo, more than Midwife sage; With voice like Kitten, when it mews, Thrusting her neck out like a Goose, Quo she, let's not be over hasty, To credit Beroe, she's too too testy. Come, come my friends, I know what's what, And I must tell ye—I smell a Rat. She Beroe, shee's a lying slut; She's no more Beroe, than my Scut. Alas poor Beroe's sick a bed, Scarce an hower since I drest her head. You might ha'believ'd her without swearing. And then she swore the Devil take her, That there was nothing worse did make her; Then that she could not come to sip, And chat with us and smoke her pipe; 'Tis not for want of Love or Grace, She came not hither to say mass For old Anchise in purgatorie. But her old age, which makes me sorry. To see her made a stalking horse And that for mischief, which is worse, No, no, this wench ith' Devils name, Is come from Heav'n from Iove's good dame. Her Armpits smel of Rosemary, Which strongly prove divinity. Her lively aire, and feet's proceeding, And eke her voice speak heav'nly breeding To little purpose thus spoke Pyrgo: For not one soul believ'd her—Ergo. Yet in respect to female Wizard, They stood a while twixt hauk and buzzard. They liked well Sicilian plains, But Fate had so be whim'd their brains With windmils they should have in Latium, Which for the present much did dash'em. Iris that had no mind to dally Seeing'em thus stand shally shally, Streightway her self disberoiz'd, And in true shape re-Deitiz'd, She through a cloud her bow displays, And on her wings, with heavenly grace, A whole and even course she steers; Then in a moment disappears. There was no need of doing more, The Trojan women now give ore, And now like boys in fields of Moor, That go to pillage Baud and Whore; In Troops most fiercely diabolic, They take in hand their cursed Frolic. Like people mad, or stark possest, Acting what only rage thought best. They sack and pillage Neptunes Altars, As if they nere had read their Psalters; Fate kiss their tayls, and for AEneas, They count him but a silly flea as. By these fierce Queans thus arm'd with fire In hand and tayl and upper tire. The Galleys kindled look like Torches., The flames are not for Spanish Marches, But rather a la mode de France, From Rope to rope they nimbly prance. The Turk himself upon the Ropes, Nere shew'd such strange Curvets and hops. The Ropes they eat for Sausages And on the Sails for Tripes they seize. They drest'em not in Cook-room though, But eat the Cookroom up also; Yet could not master all, be't known, They left the Furnace as a bone. Down to the water they eat all, But would not drink because 'twa small: Flames nere so thirsty, understand ye, No liquors love, but Wine and Brandy. Eumelus all in hast comes posting, To see what Women were a roasting; The flames did so their business handle, That he might see without a candle, The matter was too too transparent, And so he quickly had his errant: Back he returns with horrid din, But nimble sparks too fleet for him Had told before how stood affairs; Alarum'd by those Messagers, The people all make to the shore: Ascane a horseback gets before; Damn'd jades quo he the Devil confound ye; But fires your friend, the Devil drown'd ye. Passion makes any man mistakes. What witchcraft thus possest ye all, To burn our ships both great and small? A madness Graecian rage outstrips, They burnt our houses, left our ships. The pox possess and burn' you next, A crew of whores, that Hell perplext, And sent from thence a plague to us. Was ever Treason black as this? Consuming now our boats and ropes, Y'have burnt the last of our hopes. Accursed Bitches, with black souls, Blacker then are your own made Coles. Whore's only fit to be strappado'd, And back and belly bastonadod. Y'have brought me here with such a flutter, That I have almost broke my crupper, Besides the loss of all my sport, Hell take your plaguy bon-fire sor't. This having said, with fury tost, Like a blind man that staff had lost, He threw his cap so hard toth'ground, A neat invention to give him his hat without alighting. As made it back to's hand rebound. AEneas like a Lacquie puffing, Comes in at length swearing and huffing; He look't like one besides his wits, Tore his Montero all to bits; But when the whole he understands, He falls a gnawing both his hands; Then in a passion out he roars, Where are these jades, these plaguy whores! Incarnate Devils, I'le quit their scores. But cunning bitches once the feat Being done had, sounded a retreat; Whip they were gon forsooth to piss, So general the engagement is; That you might sooner cut your throat, Than see a Smock or Peticoat; They had all found Daughter and Mother In Rocks or Sands some hole or other. Some in the next Woods refuge take, For all their Arses buttons make, Seeing the Jades prancks they had plaid, For Iris then they backward pray'd. And spending on Iuno in Follies free, Of Billings-gate Artillery. More mad at her that drell'd'em in, And jeeres'em now out of their skin, But still the Vessels they burn on, Till massie Timber's almost gon. Wise work i'faith for bearded Chins, To leave their Ketches at thirteen's. The colking made so thick a smoak, As would a Chimney-Sweeper choak. Hero's like fools stood gaping on; But all their strength was useless grown. AEneas being sore distrest, To see the Devil make such a Feast, Bedaub'd and plaister'd with despair Clawes his white skin and tears his hair, To see his ships where hopes rely'd By durty drabs so fricassy'd. He tore his garments all he had Which made his smirking Taylor glad. And then his hairy brest he shewed All scabby to the multitude; At length with voice of dying man, He cross'd his Arms, and thus spoke on. O Jove of whom I never fail, To speak kind words, though in my Ale. Ay me behold this fatal blaze, Such nere befel in all your days; For give me leave to let you know so, Troys fire to this, was but a so, so; If you have any kindness for's, And that grey Mare ben't better Horse; If there be any smooth Bordachio That does affect your smooth Mustachio, I mean, mong us, let me be him, I'le strive to please ye with my limb. You shall have with me, bate extortion, An ample younger brothers portion: If this be pleasing to your Grace Laugh not but weep, lend weeping face, And all the tears that you can shed On ships with flames invironed; Damn'd Sempstresses wou'd they were whipt, Have all our grand affairs unript; And therefore pour L'amour de dieu Give us some Rain or else some snow; They'l be more welcome now, good sooth, Then showers in Harvest after drouth: Rain pailfuls therefore for a spurt Plain dealing's a jewel. Else I'le not give thee sixpence for't; You have a Sun, that with his bucket Knowes up again well how to pluck it. Sometimes ye rain down hei! ding dong, Giving your water for a song. That Holland felt, nor drap de berry, Are able to withstand the ferry. And when we pray but for Ale quart, Thou giv'st us Winchester, measure for't: Then if thou lov'st me, deare Iove, rain, Rain for thy life and fill the main, Till like a piss pot it run ore; Never came rain to purpose more. Give our your ships that are so hot all, But one kind dram of thy full bottle. AEneas had no sooner ended, But a vast deluge straight descended: Showers did not fall, but rather Rivers, The Trojans look't like Cornish divers: For Juno was gone a Gossiping and knew nothing of his Petition AEneas wash'd, be gan to scowl, Though but just now, his very soul He would have pawn'd for but one brimmer; The Gods could hardly please his humour. To tell ye how fine feathers lookt Like Capons tayles, how scarfs bemuck't Had chang'd their Curious glossie hues, Or the sad fate of Calves-skin shoos, Tis needless quite, for you may guess; But's ships were in a better case; For fire and water falling out, The water hap't to be most stout, And quickly maugre their welch heat, Over the flames the victory get. So that what ever did remain, Was surely saved by the rain. But though your flames were quench'd & ceas'd AEneas could nor well digest These blowes of Fate, which made him muddy And put him in a deep brown study, What course to steer, or how t'apply To present evils, remedy. Long was he in a great quandary, Whither to go his ways or tarry. Pox o'these Oracles quo he, They tell no truth that I can see. Then up steps, an old Cinque and Quatre Grave Nautes hight, whom Iove wise daughter Chose from his Cradle for her Crony, And with him often top'd Stypone. A desperate Casuist, for he well Aquinas knew, and Zabarell. And for predictions a meer Lilly. Only for Rimes Drammatic silly. This Doctor taking streight, forsooth, AEneas words out of his mouth AEneas th'art a fool quo he, Leave fretting and be rul'd by me. Fortunes a Whore, a meer Gilflurt, And scorns the more, the more ye court, Let her be Pox't and hang'd for a Jade, Throw thy Cap at her, and her aid. Go boldly, without fear or wit, And hit that nail that will be hit. Yet cause two heads are better than one Acestes of your privy Coun— Cel swear, he'l hear thee with a whistle; And he's as shrew'd a man as Cecil. For th'old and lame, knock'em oth'head; Tis just like having babes to bed. For lazie Truants, man or woman, Turn'em a grazing on some Common: Where if the rain or wind do trouble, They may build huts with lome and stubble. Which then, they for a Town may take, And call't Acestes for his sake. But all the lusty swaggering blades, Thar can both fight and ravish maids, Burn Villages and plunder Towns, Swear oaths of all dimensions, Keep these as th'apple of your eye, And be their chief, I'le tell ye why, To murder all the innocent flock That live by Tibers little brook. But which shall shortly toss her nose, Bove all the floods Io: Moxon knows; And spite of all their teeths compel 'Em to pay Custom and Ga—bel Thus ends the Prophet Gaffer two-shoos: For standing cold without Galoshoes, The rhume his nose did tickle sore; And sneezing forc'd him to give ore. AEneas wits gon wool to gather, Heed neither speech nor Nautes neither. His busie pate was full of parables, His soul was prickt as twere with sparables; Thus paind like maid that weareth willow, Quo he, Ile go consult my pillow. Now was the night as dark as pitch is And near the hour that favours witches; When he tossing and tumbling lies, Like one in Love above the eyes. Or vexed soul, when houer is fled, That Maudlin swore she'd come to bed. Thus lying as he lay, tormenting His brain-sick noddle with inventing, Up comes the Reverent Anchises In the same Doublet, Hose and Breeches As he was always wont to weare; For knowing how his son did feare, Besides those Devils, Rats and Ferrets, Those other Devils called Spirits, And that an Apparition might Make mad work with the sheets by night Thought fit to come in shape lest dreadful To him that had his brest and head ful. The Curtains drawn, he sets him down, And then quo he, God save ye Son. Up start's AEneas in a huddle, And all affrighted, piss'd a puddle. For fear, though they were strong as Ludgates Will set ope any Mortal's Floodgates. When Father cry'd in deep affection, Hold water Son, ye have protection. Go ring your shirt, and leave surmises I am your Father old Anchises. Iove that has quench'd the raging fire, According to your own desire, Has sent me here your brains to settle, And not with fear your mind to nettle. As for the old and the decrepit, To that which Nautes says, give credit: Tis good advice, and as sententious, As Huncks ere gave to son licentious. But those that can both say and do, Let them go all along with you, To Tiber's stream, to which are bred nigh A warlike race, of a strange kidney. That sling a Devil and half at once, If e're they meet with any affronts. But ere ye go to this same war, You must go under ground d'y'heare, And visit sable Pluto's mannor. Where I shall be to do thee honour; And make thee welcome as a Prince, As hath the old saying been long since. For I am no tormented soul But walk about upon parole. In fields Elysian without fetters; Where all your souls mark't with red letters, Their several sports and pastimes take, With Cards, or Bowles, or Ale and Cake. There you shall meet a curteous Sibill Which there men credit next the Bible; She'l go before you with a Lanthorn To shew you ev'ry corner, and turn: There you shall hear me make Tautologies. Concerning all your Genealogies. Which every day I con by heart, As Children say their mornings part. So Son adieu, the day appears; I dare not tarry for my ears. For when the Sun awakes the Daw's, Hobgoblins eyes always draw straws. AEneas in a plaguy fear, Sneaks out his head and cries who's there? Bow having now the night-Mare slain; And rung his wits all in again, He springs upon his tayl anon; Quo he, what Father gon so soon? Not stay and take a dram oth bottle, After the pains of so much twattle? How is your heart so cruel grown? So short a visit, and be gon? Return again my dear Dadda, And hear how well I yet can say, Pray Father pray to God bless me: That silly fear should so oppress me? And make me thus forget all grace: Dog in a Doublet as I was. Then out he goes for tinder box, But by the way so hard he knocks His Princely shins against a Chair, That passion urg'd could not forbear; Quo he, pox take this dog my father, To lead me thus I know not whither; I warrant it an Inch-Incision, The Devil take him with his vision. But by and by when pain was over, And senses did their seat recover, His anger cooles, and he repents Of his ungracious complements. To make his peace he smoak'd the Room With Frankinsence or some perfume. A consecrated Cheescake next, If I am not besides the Text, (Though Lipsius and the German gang Of Pedants only fit to hang, Say 'twas a Fool) which merits faith As giv'n to one that had no teeth.) He gave old Vesta, old indeed, Sh'had liv'd five thousand years a Maid; Now call'd the Goddes mumble-Crust. This offring finish'd, and in post His mattins said, and Ave Maries, He's fix'd again for new figaries. He goes to find the Rabble out, He tels his tale; they laugh and flout; Until he swore by his Virginity; And then they could not in civility But credit every word he said. Acestes readily obey'd, And without making long discourse Promis'd'em all his utmost force, AEneas not to spoil his plot, Resolves to strike while the Iron's hot. He streight calls out the old and feeble And women most unprofitable, And all the dainty, Lazie blouses, That ships forsake to live in houses. He only kept with him the stout, Such as would hold all weathers out Of which one man would cudgel four, And four would ribrost half a score. In number few, but great in heart, Not valuing danger of a fart. The ships were presently repair'd, New Oars are fram'd, new masts are rear'd. New taffata Jacks and silken streamers For this new moddel had no Dreamers. A toyl that words have quickly ended, For what's soon said, is soon amended. AEneas now Surveyor turns, Gets him a Plough, and beasts with horns, And most gentilely like a Clown, Scores out the Moddel of a Town; The Streets, the Lanes, and Market places, Exact like Troy with all her graces. Their Concubines apartiment, And privies most magnificent Acestes laugh'd untill he puk'd, To find his Honour thus be-duk'd, Makes law's a hundred more then twenty; And Officers close stool to empty. Then where they never were before, To Venus, that Celestial whore Upon the mountain, Erycine, He makes a Temple, and a Shrine, To lay Anchises bones therein, And of the order Iacobin, He Consecrates a lazie Priest, Whose office 'twas in dirty vest, Before a Taper always burning, To howl out ditties full of mourning. Thus having got a little quiet They fell to junketting and riot; Nine days in gluttony they toyl, And drink like Shoomakers the while; Till now the Ocean calm and gay Tell's em 'tis time to take away. The Southwind blows, but makes no bustle, More then to call'em with his whistle. The longest day must have an end, And friend at length must part with friend. So 'tis with them, now season calls, Of force they must pack up their Awls. The Galley-rosters then began To howl and blubber, and take on; The women loath to ly alone Are all now frantic to be gon. AEneas, who had words at will, Begs'em with patience to be still; Sometimes he laughs, sometimes he cries, As Cunning sway'd his drolleries. Twenty deluding tricks he us'd, And so their female brains amus'd, That they were well content to yeild, And to the Conquest quit the Feild. O heav'ns now what a noise is here! Of humble servant, thine my Deare, Farewell my Joy, farewell my Love, Farewel my Hony, Duck and Dove, They kiss, they cry, they laugh, shake hands, Embrace and hugg, and on the Sands Th'had taken their last leave, some think, Had Captain giv'n'em the least wink. Three Sheep are to the Tempests slain, To keep'em in a merry vain. And then for Eryx that town Bull Four Heifers from the Herds they cull. The Anchors weigh'd, all ready now, AEneas stands upon the prow, With Olive branch upon his brow; As thus he sate in Princely pomp, On a Portmantle easing Rump, A young tarpaulin Iacka lent Brought him a cup of musty Tent; What's this quo he, the juice of Toades 'Tis well enough, 'twill serve the Gods: With that he powr'd it down the Main, That drank it, as't'had been Champain. The guts and Garbadge of each beast, He gave the Tritons for a feast. For with the Brisket, Chines and Ribs, Trojans themselves had fil'd their cribs. The Seas thus pleas'd with Sail, and Oar, They part from the beloved shoar. You would have sworn, had you been near That all the Kent-Street Broom-men there Had empty'd all their leathern geare, Nothing was extant to your views For a whole mile but Womens shoos. Thus in old shoos their wishes flew, While they look on and wish for new: And so return from viewing fleet With tongues more clamorous than their feet Venus the while a slut most crafty, And mindful of her white boy's safety, Bids Coachman harness Flanders Mares, And streight to Neptune she careirs. Neptune, it being long Vacation, For want of better recreation, With Oyster shels, and rocky flakes Was busie making Ducks and Drakes; But when he saw the Lackerd Coach, He left his sport and makes approach, Bless me, quo she, what mean you so Your noble pastime to forego? In truth I blame my rudeness for't; That thus hath made you leave your sport, With voice more lulling than a lute She had so charm'd the Sea-green Brute, Madam quo he, kissing her hand, I were not worthy my command, Should I not all things set aside When such a Dame, so near ally'd Whom I love more, than you can guess it, Shal honour me with such a visit; Good now what wind has blown you hither? Some plot of Iuno upon the weather: Y'are in the right on't, on my Honour She plagues my heart out, pox upon her, 'Tis scarce a month but in despite, She burnt up all my sons whole fleet. And would have gridled him himself, But that the pretty harmless Elfe Has a good faculty to ball it, When any mischief does befall it. In all our heav'nly Court there's none But hates her like a Scorpion. And Iupiter's a Hobby-horse, He does not kick her out of dores As one would kick a dog or bitch. She has the Devil in her breech. Time that brings all things to an end, Can't bound the malice of this fiend. The Laws of Fate she chops and changes, As all things mov'd upon her hinges. What need I tell you, you well know, She's nothing else but fire and Tow. But t'other day, in Lybic Seas What a Combustion did she raise! Attempting those her wild fegaries Within your Highness territories; But that your Grace, I humbly thank ye, Seeing how meanly she did rank ye, Were pleas'd to take good cognizance Of puffing slaves Irreverence, And so cornub'd'em, that I think Their windy holes began to stink; And then the sneaking sons of whores Pull'd in their horns, like Cuckolds Currs, That find by letters intercepted, How well their stately heads are grafted. But tempests missing her desire, She seeks to work her ends by fire; But then her husband by a shower Stopt the damn'd progress of her power. That which remains, I beg your Grace To let your Seas keep smiling face. Let only gentle Zephyr be Your Highness courteous Deputy. And for those testy Aquilo's Chase'em like Hornets from my nose. Let Son at Tyber safe arrive; And for so doing, as I live. My Maids shall work ye against Easter, A pointed Band worth twice a tester. I tell you this, as I am modest Upon the word of a true Goddess, Dear Madam, why such words as these? You are sole Mistress of the Seas. From thence you came: The Seas were mad, If they for you no kindness had. And therefore vex your self no more, I'le make the winds your breath adore. I'le have a care of your young man, The same that Doe has of her fawn: Fair Simois and Xanthus both I call to witness upon Oath; The large effects of former care; Achilles when, great man of War, Assaulting Troy, a bold adventure, Your dapper Son would needs incounter And like to have his brains knockt out, In cloud I rapt him, as in clout, While his fierce foe in vain pursu'd, And th'Air as vainly hack't and hew'd I have the same protection still, The same intention and good will; And for the sake of your bright eyes He ne're shall want what in me lies. Moreo're to shew I love him well, I'le give him passage into Hell. Egress and regress to his wishes, As he were one of my own Fishes. The Lady hearing so much mercy, Dropt him a very delicate Curtsey. The King of floods then gave command, And Coach is tackled out of hand; Coach by two Hippotams drawn, Not Dolphins as the Learned fain And on the billows then he drives The pace of Princes and their wives At his approach the Sea becalms, The waves as quiet are, as Lambs; Winds clap their tayls betwixt their legs, Like Chaplain took at Baudy Pegs: The Scene was chang'd quite through the main, All cover'd now with Neptunes train. He to shew Lady Coz. his Port Had summon'd all t'attend his Court. First the Promoters of the Sea, His Sarjeants and his Catch poles, they Were certain Monsters, th'ugliest Rogues That ere were seen, upon Sea-Hogs. Whales of all sizes, sorts and shapes, With noses made like squirts for Claps, Whence they could spout ye with a vengeance Whole Rivers, like my Lord Majors Engins. These Glaucus lead, a man of note, In scallop shel instead of Boat. And all the way he play'd most fine Upon a Trumpet call'd Marine. Ino's Executor Palaemon Rid mounted on a good fat Sammon; Old Triton second in the Empire, Rode in a Chariot frindg'd with Sampi A Scallop lin'd with mother of Pearl Which six large Oysters nimbly whirle Phorcus the next most eminent Brought a whole a ragged Regiment Riding with dirty shirts on Sharkes, All dammy Boys, and Hect'ring Sparkes, Next Thetis with her Sallow jowl Rides mounted on an ambling Sole; And next to her was Melite, Behind her man upon a Ray. Fair Panope a Virgin still, Bestrides an o'regrown Mackaril. Cymodoce brings up the Rear, Upon a nimble Didapper. Such was the worshipful procession Made by the Chiefs of Sea-born Nation: AEneas at the weather smiles, A smile in length above three miles. Men might have seen his heart untroubled Caper Coranto's through his doublet, Among the ships there's not a lazy one, All by the fore-lock take Occasion; Their sails are full, and Seamen brisk, Some go to sleep, and some to Whisk, The gale works for 'em, while the Ships All keeps their course, their Amm'ral keeps That steer'd by Palinure, a head The body of the whole Fleet lead Starboard, or Latboard, or No near, How e're he steer'd all others steer, The Rowers all the Season blest, That gave them so much time to rest, And all lay down upon the plancks To recreate their weary Flanks. While Pilots with their eyes, like Owles, Look out for Sea-marks, and for sholes, The rest, without the aid of Poppey, Or juice of Lettices, so nappy, So soundly slept, that some men swore Their very souls where heard to snore, When, lo, a little Urchin whipster, A god cal'd, but more like a Tapster, That by his good will would never waken, But sleep all day in rusty Bacon, This demi-god is Deaths one brother, 'Tis well sh'has him, sh'has nere another. This drovvsie Soul drops from the stars, Dispels the Mist, that hid his Arse, And thus like a dissembling Knave, For Palinure provides a grave. Like Phorbas clad, quo he, dear Friend What harm dost thou thy self intend By watching thus? aside thy care: And sleep a while, while weather's fair, And I'le be careful till you wake Of Galleys, that no harm they take. Follow your Fools advice that please, I'le sleep no sleeps by Gods good grace: Who sent you here with this blind story? Thus Palinure frumpt young Iohn Dory. This bold young Sophister howe're Continued still to buzz in's Ear'. He beggd him ore and ore again To clear his eyelids, but in vain, For Palinure he could not coax: Friend, quoth he, y'are in the wrong box. Is this a time for me to snort, Knowing the burden I support. How should I answer to be found, I fast a sleep, Ships fast a ground? My Master, great AEneas, sure Would give much thanks to Palinure. A scalded dog the Kitchen bauks, So we have had enough of rocks, The little God, but hugeous Devil, Finding perswasions nere so civil, Would not prevail, draws out a jelly, The colour I can hardly tell ye, With this same oyl, not oyl of Violet, He rub'd the Temples of the Pilot, Who, without dreaming o the Fleet, Falls flat on's belly fast a sleep. When on a sudden part of the steerage, Not well repair'd or out of meer age. Whips off, and Pilot, heav'n knows how, Only that Virgil says 'twas so, Went with a murrain altogether, A strange mischance in such good weather, And therefore wise men guess it rather, (Though bad excuse by Virgil made, Is better than t' have nothing said) That the old man too much had drank, And going to sh— fell off a plank. However 'twas, wak'd with the fall, He vainly to his Mates did call, For he was drown'd, and mischief done, Away th' unlucky God doth run. How e're the Ships steer a right course, For Neptunes promise guides their oars, Though some conjecture they did well, Rather by hap, than by good skill. Tell by and by the Rocks approaching, Where Syrens live, all day debauching, AEneas by good chance lookt out, And seeing Ships so neer a rout, Thought Pilot either drunk or dead, And that without his present aid, The Ships would be at six and sev'ns, He goes to see: but then O Heav'ns! Th'astonish'd Mortal quickly found, That Palinure, Good man, was drown'd, The Galleys swom at seven and six, Like blind men groping without sticks, And now they gan approach the stones That lookt all white like dead mens bones, And yet the waves neer shallow shore, Lay howling day and night for more. AEneas, whiter than his Cravat, Saw 'twas nothing for man to laugh at; 'Twas time i'saith for him to work, The which he did like any Turk; And streight though night, and hard put to't, Got sea room, and good way to boot, He wrought, but could not sing a noat, Like merry Coblers under stals; For grief had spoild his Madrigals; But for his Pilot, now a sleep, A hundred sighs he fetch'd ful deep; He puft, and heav'd, and roard, and snob'd, To see himself of Pilot rob'd; Ah my Dear Friend, his noddle shaking, That now must sleep for want of waking, Whom sleep it self, hath taken napping, And strangled in the water dropping, Naked upon some forreign shore Thou shalt be cast and seen no more; Though if no Porpoise eat thee up, Nor Sturgron on thy carkass sup, Time may perhaps bring thee to light, Till then, Dear Palinure, good Night, FINIS.