JUVENALIS Redivivus.

OR The First Satyr of JƲVENAL taught to speak plain English.

A POEM.

—Dent ociùs Omnes
Quas meruere pati (sic stat sententia) poenas.

Printed in the Year 1683, and are to be sold by most Booksellers.

The Preface to the Reader.

THere is scarce any one in this our Age, tho a small Author, but that thinks it conveni­ent, and necessary to trouble his Reader with an Apology. Our very Sermons will not walk abroad without a Prologue in prose upon their backs, think­ing themselves not secure, unless people are first per­swaded into good nature: Every one puts on as many cloaths as he can get, and every one expects a storm. Indeed we are fallen into times of strange malice, and ignorance: Every illiterate spelling Coxcomb will be ready to give his verdict; yet who perhaps by re­peating a Poem, will render it more ridiculous than it is in it self. Ariosto heretofore broke a Potter's ves­sels for singing a Song of his composing out of tune, telling him, that all the ware in his Shop could not suffice for the injury he had put upon him. And in­deed, if such a Malefactor was to be tried by an un­biass'd, understanding Jury; Scandalum Magnatum it self ought not in reason to hope for greater Dama­ges, than a poor, and thus abused Author. But alass, there is no such remedy; we must like offending Sol­diers run the Gauntlet, and give every snearing Powder-monkey leave to claim the priviledge of a [Page] Lick. Sure this sort of people were not so common when Juvenal first liv'd; If they were, I dare be con­fident some Scriblers had not found such an easie and merry Passage to Posterity as they have done; and that Persius himself (who lies sculking under the Patronage of our Author) had been soundly Jirked, and abomi­nably laugh'd at. One fault or slip of a Pen now a days, is sufficient reason why the whole book should be condemn'd: Neither is this all, but you shall be sure to have continually some good natur'd friend or other at your elbow, who will ever now and then flap you on the mouth with it. The severe Critick Longinus, and after him our admirable Laureat, take notice, ‘that a man of a sublime Genius, a man of large possessions has not leisure enough to consider of every slight ex­pence, will not debase himself to the management of every Trifle; whereas your mean fortunes, your midling Wils, manage their store with extreme fru­gality, are very nice in Grammar, but who with fear of running into Profuseness, never arrive to the Magnificence of a Living.’ I had rather see (both in men and women) wholsom, civil, careless behavi­our, than the compleatness and exact motions of neat, finical, wire-drawn Babies. I admire the one, and am apt to grin at the other. Tis indeed ridiculous, that any one should take a great deal of pains, and be but [Page] ordinary at last. I would willingly say all I could to excuse my own failings and mistakes; but however it is, I can by no means admit every one to be a competent Judge: I am sorry I am forc'd to be so ungentile as to deny it even to the Ladies. If there is any Genius in the Poem, it appears as being somewhat like a paral­lel to the Latin, and built upon old Juvenal's foun­dation; which I must crave leave, to suppose them to be wholly ignorant of. Tis true, they desire ac­knowledgments from men, that they are perfect beau­ties, tho at the same time they shew themselves naked no farther than their breasts. But I willingly receive a Judicious Reader, One that will examine and handle all parts, and that will not give his Judgment at first sight. The more he understands the Latin, the farther he searches, I am sure it will be so much the more to my advantage. He will find by an impartial scrutiny, that I have aim'd at that Naturalness, which Juvenal (in the judgment of Rapin) has seem'd wholly to have forgot; that I have purposely sometimes abstain'd from his scolding and ill language; being certainly assur'd, that a sporting and merriment of Wit doth render Vice more ridiculous, than the strongest reasons, or most sententious discourse. Indeed, he has seem'd all along to write in choler and passion, fancying himself to be really in the company of those persons, [Page] that he describes with so much uneasiness and malice. 'Twas here only that I found my self more than or­dinarily oblig'd, and against my Conscience, to keep somewhat close to him, to be downright and serious, lest in my too much caution I should not write a Paral­lel to which I pretend, and lest I should wholly loose the name of an Imitator. I have had, like him, no respect of Persons or Parties, but like a truly Loyal Satyrist have run full tilt at vice anà folly, where e­ver I found it, with a resolution not to give any quar­ter; tho I must confess, I have discovered a greater abundance in the Faction, than amongst those that are Loyal. Tis fit the world should know that there be some men in it, that scout both Whigg and Torie, that hate the destroyers of Society; That scorn to be con­cern'd in noise and tumult, till there is a real occasion. My design at first was to have lead on this way of wri­ting in many of the succeeding Satyrs, but I am un­willing to prevent a worthy and more experienc'd Pen. Think if you please, that my Time lies upon my hands, and that I delight to be scribling, or that I was resol­ved to be Busie about Nothing, rather than be Idle; I am however upon all occasions

Reader,
Thy true Friend, and very humble Servant.

To the Excellent and unknown Author of the ensuing Poem.

SIR, I by chance th' ensuing Satyr saw,
And found that I my self did suffer too:
But blest the teeth that did so kindly bite,
That forc'd even duller Me at length to write;
Stripes in old Letchers oft does raise an Appetite.
From Anger free I only wisht that here
I could like thee give each a Character.
I'de tell the world that once Achitophel
Did please, but now the Ghost of Juvenal.
But by my Whiggery all Wits discry'd,
My Senses with the City-Charter dy'd.
Could I recall my Youth, and brisker bloud,
Sir I'de stretch high,—ay marry that I wou'd.
Noble, and gay, obliging whilst severe,
Thy Judgment deep, thy Fancy neat and clear.
Write on: Thou never sure canst do amiss,
I vow thou 'rt born to scourge an Age like this.
June 19. 1683.

To his Friend the Author of JUVENALIS REDIVIVUS.

BLest Poet! Thou alone writst unconfin'd,
And in a Stile as free as is thy Mind.
Thy even Satyr no wrong Byas knows,
But equally on all its rage bestows.
Though (thou my Friend) hast been provok'd to write,
There's not oneline that savours ought of spight.
But with impartial Pen Vice is drawn here,
And does in all its nakedness appear:
Where most men may perhaps with wondring look
See themselves ugly, and condemn thy Book;
Like some brown Dame, who, when she views her face,
Is angry at the sight, and breaks the Glass.
But still go on (brave Friend) and make us know,
What Rome to Juvenal, That to Thee we owe.
For in the Latin thou'st but chang'd each name,
The Matter, Manners, Men were all the same.
Nor doest in this the Age alone refine,
But Juvenal himself in every line.
This gentle Satyr, if well understood,
May kindly awe, and force us unto good.
Yet I fear too, ill in th' effect twill be,
All will turn wicked to be scourg'd by Thee.
June 23. 1683.

JUVENALIS Redivivus. OR The first Satyr of JƲVENAL made to speak plain English.

BUT must I alway suffer this? Can I
So tamely still an ears good nature trie,
Exalted Nonsence being plac'd for Pillory?
Must I in complaisance conceal my pain?
No, I'le turn Fool, and write, and vex again.
Dear Doeg, long have I with patience heard
Cambyses roar, and mighty thundrings fear'd.
The Comick Mamamouch' hath teiz'd me too,
And Sappho with her wondrous Empty shew,
A Torie faith, yet sha'nt unpunish'd go.
The Citty Wits have often scar'd my Eys
With lamentable, mournful Elegies,
But of all plagues Mack Fleckno is the worst,
With Guts and Poverty severely curst:
Large is his Corps, his mighty works do swell,
Both carefully fill'd up, and stuff'd from Hell:
Eternal Sot, all o're a publick Ass,
Is cypher'd in the margin of his Face.
No tawdry Jilt does Playhouse better know,
Than I St. Jameses Park, or who kist who:
I know Morefields, where cunning Bawds do live;
Th' Exchange, where none but Knaves and Cuckolds thrive.
I see it plain why grinning Whigs do sneer,
Or scold, and sweat to day at Westminster;
That Sr. George and I, shall have a Summons,
As Traytors, to the Royal [1] House of Commons.
That thin starv'd Squires will steal a Golden Wench,
That Wapping Buffe'ne longs to kick the French:
The lab'ring Press does daily this repeat,
And frighted Nokes on loaded Stage does sweat.
[2] These subjects do the best and worst wits choose,
But none will e're a tedious Dulness loose.
Then why should I, who long have left the Schools,
And all pedantick, boyish, Grammar rules;
I, who to Patience once did give advice
To quit Fur-gown, and publick Offices;
Shall I minc'd Pies defraud, or paper spare,
Since in Taverns, Streets, troth and every where,
Jack-pudding Poetasters do appear?
Since piss-burn'd Wigg, torn cloaths, and much of spight,
Or sawcy Fool's sufficient plea to write.
But why the Ground must raging Fancy choose,
Which sharp and noble Dryden oft does use,
'Lashing full stretch his fiery foaming Muse?
Strong Truths and Reasons shall declare the Cause,
And which forgiving Zeal will ne're oppose.
When Fumbling Serjeants wanton Girls do wed,
(Sad Tools alas to warm a Marriage Bed)
When shameless Women on the Stage are brought,
And puny Lords with naked Breasts are caught;
When Ishban swears he's richer than my King,
And Scriveners against Courts their Actions bring;
When leathern Clown, that came from [3] Islington,
To factious Common Councils strait does run;
And then with Pride on stately Stone-horse set,
Curses the Golden Chain that makes him sweat:
S'Death, from loud laughter I can ne're refrain,
I stop at grinns, and hide my teeth in vain;
My boiling Gall does such confinement scorn,
And strong desires of Pen and Ink return.
Here in his Coach the full-blown Jonas swells,
And Popish Rats the sharp-nos'd Arod smells;
The squeaking Jack-call Doctor starts the Game,
And each his share in Blood and Money claim.
Through strange beliefs he bribed sence decoys,
And swears that Devils ne're could utter lies,
Yet dreads that TO will once against the witness rise.
With such success Sham-plots a Midwife try'd,
(As some affirm) by Tower'd Lords employ'd.
Here Covent Garden stabs an Heir Remove,
Stallions eat Gold, are blest in Hellish Love;
They cheat fond, irksome, and deceiving Life,
I'th Sweets of a Rich Merchant's ugly wife.
The Long-tayl'd Balaam from a [4] Table strikes
His twelfve Half-Crowns, nor fame nor pay dislikes.
Hard Brawny Strong does much and more inherit,
He drinks and roars on's stock of belly-merit.
But sure this hot-spur will the Profit reap,
When's thin pale Soul through shriveled veins does creep;
When like declaiming Tyburn-Rogue he'll Cry,
Good Countrymen take warning all by Me:
When in Pox, Gout, and stink Amyntas lies,
That was so brisk, so gay, so witty, and so wise.
Soft Pitty, and fierce Angers tear my Soul,
When Knaves a Noble Essex Youth controle:
Undone by Fraud he discontented walks,
And to his shabby thread-bare Garment talks.
[5] He Sharks, and Cheats, he Pimps, and feign would Game,
To raise the Grandeur of his Birth and Name.
But those the Rogues i'th Croud of Footmen plac't
The Boars that do our Fields and Countreys wast.
They Eat whole Families, drink Orphans Tears,
And none the threats of walking Conscience feares,
(As God would have it too,) they'r Ʋsurers.
See Curse ye Meroz with mock sentence blest,
(For what's disgrace, when Coin at home doth rest)
Banish't Mankind on Herbs himself he feasts,
And stares, and struts i'th midst of's Brother Beasts.
With Haste and Zeal he loves his Angry Fate,
And Joys that God so mean a Wretch will Hate.
[6] oh Doctors, Doctors Commons, tho prevailing
Yet thou findst for thy wrongs no Help but wailing.
Where's Auldram Rochester, and Wicherley,
You mighty Souls, that in this Cause dare dye?
Let's draw our Pens, and quit [7] Tarsander's Praise,
Fair Phillis lovely Bum, the charming ways
Of Country Wife, renown'd for mizmaze tricks,
Or where their Darts our Courtlike Cupids fix.
The Worlds on Fire, it does in madness reign,
Quench it with Ink, with Satyr breath a Vein:
Peevish, perverse, & base, it hates a Cure,
And scarce will out true honest minds endure;
It must, it must the kind Plain-dealers feel,
That will its sores, and foul diseases heal.
Then Smooth I wont forget that Handsome Lord,
Seditious Sot, unfaithful in his word:
With strange good Nature he his Horns receives,
And a whole Wife for Julio's Friendship gives.
When e're strong Drink or Sleep does seize his head,
Be sure that minute there's a Cuckold made.
His Conscience Pimps, his Brains the Friend doth buy,
And all things yield to his No-Loyalty.
Fetch pious Swearmuch from New-Market Race,
Religion jades him, and she tires apace:
He on good Horseflesh lives, but will not own,
That Fortune e're can cast her Rider down.
His noble Ancestours he scarce does know,
But with unsullied honour sneaks below
And says, tis well observed by the Wise,
That from starv'd Jockeys valiant Souldiers rise;
And underhand for a Commission tries.
A beggar'd [8] Duke thus once was set astride,
And did himself to a poor Devil ride.
Why should I not the Streets, and Churches fill
With sharp Lampeons, spew venom thro my quill?
When bald-fac'd Split-cause in Sedan must roul,
Th' unfeather'd, glaring, rich, Majestick Owl;
Dowries he has from sweet oppression,
But Wax and Parchment was his Portion.
Worse than a Plague he dreads the Wind and Air,
It spoils his Curls, and does disturb his Hair.
To please the Earth let kind Heaven rain or shine,
The Day is damn'd that crosses his Design.
In ease and softness he melts down his hours,
And the spruce Earl above his God adores.
Clarinda here her mortgag'd corps would buy,
Itches once more for Maiden Liberty.
Wisely did Reverend Time her Mother see,
That Dog and Bitch, when coupled, ne're agree.
In vain are Myrtles rais'd, and Roses spread,
She loaths the joys of an unwholsom Bed;
Curses the false fires of her Ferret Eyes,
And charming, ill contriv'd deformities.
In short, to brave stout Ruffian Saints she pray'd,
It lightned, thundred, and the Husband's dead.
Her desperate Gods with noise our City shooke,
"And roar'd their vengeance out in fire and smoak.
Had she some secret, modish poysons sought,
[9] Madamoseile her knowledge would have taught;
She'd work above, the Frenchman down below,
[10] The Devil's in the Dice if 'twould not do.
Go on brave Souls, slight still all heav'nly power,
Dare something worthy Newgate and the Tower.
Fame loves to talk of Rogues, their Ghosts does dread,
When I their Tryals and their Memoirs read.
A pox of Honesty and Conscience,
Despis'd by all the men of wit and sence.
Learning and Piety ne'ere made man great,
Dull Knaves, and cringing fools preferment get.
See here this large Estate to Hell I owe,
And this from profitable sins does grow;
Base niggard Heav'n on Earth must credit loose,
The lib'ral Devil for our God we choose.
O Hideous thought—
—I Rave, I cannot Rest,
When sweet fair Lucia, like a VVanton drest,
Sighs, smiles, looks, kisses in incestuous arms,
And frighted senses to strange feasts alarms;
Pitty vile, beastly Lust had such amazing Charms.
Eunuchs and Monkeys Cloris still requires,
Creatures unfit for Loves soft Amorous fires;
Their Duty a good Christian oft desires.
The young St John rots long before his time,
And of Guiacum stinks, and Turpentine.
Hence, hence, my own Poetick rage I slight,
The madness of the world shall make me write.
Let sinking Nature noble Scorn supply,
It may compose at least such lines as I,
Or the Dull, honest Barten [11] Holiday.
E're since the Royal Charles from England went,
And Floods of Tears bewail'd his Banishment:
Since mad Religious Rebels did Command,
And joy'd to see a sad and naked Land;
Each Face for Satyr will afford a Theme,
And even silent Thoughts procure Esteem.
Bullies, Cheats, Pimps, and Whores, ay all mankind,
May here their ugly, well drawn Pictures find.
Vice (Heaven be prais'd) a tall fair Crop does yield,
A Harvest always, and from soil untill'd.
Shop-keeping Gripes in large long Rowes appear,
The Times are hard, they cry, on Rep they swear,
For King and Church they can't afford a Prayer.
Sr. Fopling must to day at Lockets dine,
Where Cards and Dice commend the Nasty wine;
Grannums old Gold from Satin Purse is brought,
And Lordships are by Jilting Fortune caught.
Undone he stakes his Soul, tempts on his Fate,
While's Lowsy Footmen for their wages wait.
At length the Gentile Cully leaves our Isle,
Whilst Noise and Bully Thunder share the Spoil.
To please the Croud our Fathers never meant,
Nor seven long years in mighty Nothings spent;
Ne're built a Costly useless MONƲMENT.
Till selfish Shimei none e're din'd alone,
Glutton and Swine himself he starves the Town;
Good Herbs and Air God made for our relief,
Fishes, Birds, Beasts for him, and's Woodstreet wife.
Our Noah's Ark the aged world now fears,
And down his Throat all Creatures go by Pairs.
Ravens and Carrion-bitts he gives the Rout,
But savoury Pidgeons seldom do come out.
Grace said, he smiles, and standing up—
[12] Drive off the Torie Rogues, he loudly cries,
Take heed of Spanish Pilgrims in disguise,
The Brethren you may eas'ly know from these,
True Protestants have lost their Consciences.
Let cashier'd angry Courtiers still come on,
Sure trusty Trojans in Rebellion.
For each of these on factious treats depend,
Huge Ale and Beef did always find a friend.
Should I make publick feasts, (which heaven prevent)
(Damnation gad's a milder punishment,)
The Zealous Zimri there should first be plac't;
Then scribling Arthur is a Hopeful Guest.
But here's an Alderman a seat must have,
A sober, sly, discreet, substantial Knave;
Spawn'd on the banks of Trent, a Todpole bred.
Now Toad all o're, with a large Trimmers head.
Goodkind Addresses by his face are meant,
But's breech is all a Scottish Covenant.
Large mines of Gold do in his Cellar sleep,
'Twill all your Windsor [13] Kinghts in credit keep.
Well-born L'Estrange must not compare with us,
He's wise, and poor, and therefore scandalous.
The roaring Lords admire our richer mould,
Each bows and crings to us Calves of Gold.
Money, dear money Titles will afford.
For silver Judas does betray his Lord.
Stand off then Peers, let a brave Citt come by,
Adore a Rag of lowsie Majesty.
Under his branches beasts do take their rest,
There, there a bird of prey does make his nest:
With vast respect him let our children name,
Who sacred honours thus alone does claim,
Who to th' Town a notch't, sun-burnt, itchy Prentice came.
Saint Paul shall now his stately Temple quit,
Goddess Pecunia must inhabit it.
Henceforth no Tipstaffs shall our Meeting search,
Meek kind Dissenters then will come to Church.
Then noisie [14] Jack-daw Jen—s preach thy worth,
And Kaw, and Kaw thy goodly Doctrines forth.
Speak then, you that our Glories oft have seen,
Great is Diana 'mongst our Englishmen.
He said, and long revolving in his thought,
What Coin his Dear Disloyalty had brought,
For Lies'gainst Court (says I) you this Receive,
For downright Treason this, and this as—Shrieve.
But why should rich men thus engross a Trade?
The Rabble live by't, tis their daily Bread.
Through Grace a zealous Lobbish Traitor cries,
Help on O Heav'n our weak Infirmities.
Three Tabernacles Lard do thou prepare,
For Ferg—N, Tom H—nt, and Harry C—re.
Make this a Bishop, Tom a Judge shall be,
And the Gracious Lad chief Secretary;
Rewards sufficient for iniquity.
Tis true, a Jllr the Cause they lead about
With Midwife hands, and help't a Monster out.
In zeal and Conscience they this Babe did wrap,
And almost kis't and lick't it into shape.
But the good Devil ow'd his Friends a spight,
The Bastard—plot half Grown is ruin'd quite.
A Fool; it neither Brains nor Breeding had,
A Driveling, Blundring, Milk-sop Oaf made.
Who'd think that such a Reformation
Was got by the wise part o'th Nation?
They Lye: their wisdom and their Purse is poor,
London
The-wou'd-be Sheriffs.
Churchwardens do keep both child and whore.
Their Boasted number to a Nothing's fell,
Your Men in Moons good Sirs can ne're prevail.
Come shew your Heads, young Julio wants a Vote,
He begs th' assistance of a Carman's throat.
But see, the Godlike Caesar mounts the Throne,
And a vain empty Idol's melted down.
But tho God scatter'd thus this Jewish race,
Again with Nauseous spit they dawb his Face,
Huzzaing, we [15] Barabbas still Release.
No Hour can skip here unregarded by,
Their busy Souls each minute do employ.
Libels and Coffee first the Morning stay,
Then Wine and Whores lead on the Joyful Day.
The Prisons now for swearing Knights they take,
And fetter'd Rogues substantial Juries make.
The Refuse and odd scraps of time are
To write the Life of some Heroick Saint.
Tony in Print an Hair-brain'd Author puts,
Before the book a well-drawn Picture strutts,
So rotten Whetstone Jades wear Silken Petticoats.
Bumfodder sure before was not so scarce,
With Lives and Deaths I now must wipe mine A—.
Indeed a whole Day once they did
[16] To Pray and Praise in Butchers meat and wine.
But the gud Tribe for Nought did Guinnies pay.
At Door they just peep'd in, and sneak'd away.
A Non-Con Abr'am would not trust his Eyes,
But look't behind for Rams to sacrifice.
Some Tradesmen too (who by my soul at least
Can forty Days upon occasion Fast,)
At length with tedious expectations Tire,
And do resolve henceforth they'l ne're Aspire,
Beyond a Toast, a Nutmeg, and a Sea—coal Fire.
Their Grandees baulk't like Owls do hate the light,
At home turn Fools and Gluttons out of spight.
Their whole Estates they swallow down, for fear
Their Treason known should give the K. a share.
Flatt'ry they love, but 'tmust not come within,
Tis a good natur'd and expensive Sin,
So many Beasts to Adam never came,
Each now dish'd up from them expects a name.
The wide—throat hungry Lawyers better sped,
They nobly on our stinking Charter fed.
But Vice brings still with it a Punishment,
A huge fat Carcass to the Bath is sent.
Though these Augaean Stables scorn a flood;
Epsom and Tunbridge waters do no good.
Strange Swellings rise from undigested meat,
Their names are known at the next Torie treat,
Who scout these Tympanies of Church and State.
Perfect and full-grown Ill can mount no more,
The Age to come its Glories must adore;
Know how from nothing our Creation grew,
And wondring stand a world of mischiefs view.
Poor in themselves with thanks they shall receive,
What we their Gods above will downwards give.
Yet spread my Sails, and launch into the Deep,
O're Death and Dangers shall my Satyr leap.
This Gyant-work I boldly do disown;
Pelion and Ossa now shall tumble down.
Help then, O Heaven, with a Destroying hand,
Scatter the Lice and Locusts of our Land.
With Famine, Plagues, and Inquisition kill,
But O remove, remove, a Greater ill.
I know They all defiance do profess,
Stubborn and disobedient to my Lash;
But time there was when they observ'd my Nod,
And gratefully would love and kiss the Rod.
For Johnson his't at length a Poet was,
But th' HONOURABLE ESQUIRE's still an Ass
If Whatdeecallum with Advice you hurt,
Lord, you must ask his Pardon in open Court.
But let each Tigelline in Coaches strut,
Look down on wiser men that walk a foot:
When Titles come we'l sneer, and turn about,
Least Scandalum Magnatum's thundred out.
[17] Let Puny wits some Heroe's fate rehearse,
And murder him again in Hobling verse:
My soul this Cowardice doth wisely Dread,
Tis Cruelty to cut and slash the Dead.
See our Fam'd Laureats frown does fright the Croud,
All fly the vengeance of an angry God.
Their Guilt and Shame an Horrour does express,
Devoutly to Him they their sins confess.
Perhaps at last, if Wine their Courage move,
With base Rose Alley Drubs they him reprove,
And stand like Capaneus defying Jove.
All this I'le bear, this I can eas'ly pass,
And boldly match the Muses [18] Hudibrass.
Be still then Westminster, thy Tombs shall rest,
Sleep on ye Reverend Shades in silence Drest.
LONDON, thou sink of Vice, my Stripes expect,
The world shall know, that I the Living dare CORRECT.
Semper Ego Auditor tantum? nunquamne reponam,
Vexatus toties Rauci Theseide Codri?
Impune ergo mihi recitaverit ille Togatas?
Hic Elegos? impune diem consumpserit ingens
Telephus? aut summi plena jam margine Libri
Scriptus, & in tergo, nec dum finitus Orestes!
Nota magis nulli Domus est sua, quàm mihi lucus
Martis, & Aeoliis vicinum rupibus antrum
Vulcani; quid agant venti, quas torqueat Umbras
Aeacus; unde alius furtivae devehat aurum
Pelliculae, quantas jaculetur Monychus Ornos,
Frontonis Platani, convulsaque marmora clamant,
Semper & assiduo ruptae Lectore Columnae.
Expectes eadem a summo minimoque Poeta
Et nos ergo manum ferulae subduximus, & nos
Consilium dedimus Syllae, privatus ut altum
Dormiret. Stulta est Clementia, cùmtot ubique
Vatibus occurras, periturae parcere chartae.
Cur tamen hoc libeat potius decurrere campo,
Per quam magnus equos Auruncae flexit alumnus,
Si vacat, & placidi rationem admittitis, edam.
Cùm tener uxorem ducat Spado, Mavia Tuscum
Figat aprum, & nuda teneat venabula mamma;
Patricios omnes opibus cùm provocet unus,
Quo tondente gravis juvenis mihi barba sonabat;
Cùm pars Niliacae plebis, cùm verna Canopi
Crispinus, Tyrias humero revocante lacernas,
Ventilet aestivum digitis sudantibus Aurum,
Nec sufferre queat majoris pondera Gemmae:
Difficile est Satyram non scribere: nam quis iniquae
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se?
Causidici nova cùm veniat Lectica Mathonis
Plena ipso, & post hunc magni delator amici
Et citò rapturus de Nobilitate Comesa
Quod superest,
quem massa timet, quem munere palpat
Carus, & à trepido Thymele summissa Latino.
Cum te summoveant, qui Testamenta merentur
Noctibus, in Coelum quos evehit optima summi
Nunc via processus, vetulae Vesica Beatae,
Unciolam Proculeius habet,
—sed Gillo Decuncem,
Parteis quisque suas ad mensuram inguinis haeres.
Accipiat sane mercedem sanguinis, & sic
Palleat, ut nudis pressit qui Calcibus Anguem,
Aut Lugdunensem Rhetor dicturus ad Aram.
Quid referam quantâ siccum Jecur ardeat irâ,
Cum populum gregibus Comitum hic spoliator
Pupilli prostantis?
At hic Damnatus inani
Judicio, (quid enim salvis infamia Nummis?)
Exul ab octavo Marius bibit, & fruitur Diis
Iratis: at tu victrix Provincia ploras
Haec ego non credam Verusinâ digna Lucernâ?
Haec ego non Agitem? Sed quid magis Heracleas,
Aut Diomedeas, aut mugitum Labyrinthi,
Aut mare percussum puero Fabrúmque volantem?
Cum Leno accipiat Moechi bona, si capiendi
Jus nullum uxori, doctus spectare Lacunar,
Doctus & ad calicem viglianti stertere naso,
Cum fas esse putat curam sperare cohortis,
Qui bona donavit praesepibus, & caret omni
Majorum censu dum pervolat axe citato
Flaminiam: puer Automedon sic lora tenebat,
Ipse lacernatae cum se jactaret amicae.
Nonne libet medio ceras implere capaces
Quadrivio; cum jam sextâ cervice feratur,
Hinc atque inde patens, ac nudâ pene cathedrâ,
Et multum referens de Maecenate supino
Signator, falso qui se lautum atque beatum
Exiguis Tabulis, & gemmâ fecerat udâ.
Occurrit Matrona potens, quae molle Calenum
Porrectura viro miscet sitiente Rubetam,
Instituitque rudes melior Locusta propinquas,
Per famam & populum nigros efferre maritos.
Aude aliquid brevibus gyaris, & carcere dignum,
Si vis esse aliquid. Probitas laudatur, & alget:
Criminibus debent Hortos, Praetoria, Mensas,
Argentum vetus, & stantem extra pocula Caprum
Quem patitur dormire Nurûs corruptor avarae,
Quem Sponsae Turpes, & praetextatus adulter:
Si Natura negat, facit Indignatio versum,
Qualemcunque potest, quales ego, vel Cluvienus.
Ex quo Deucalion Nimbis tollentibus Aequor
Navigio montem ascendit, sortesque poposcit,
Paulatimque animâ caluerunt mollia saxa,
Et maribus nudas ostendit Pyrrha puellas:
Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri est farrago libelli.
Et quando uberior vitiorum copia? quando
Major Avaritiae patuit sinus? Alea quando
Hos Animos? Neque enim loculis comitantibus itur
Ad casum Tabulae, positâ sed luditur Arcâ.
Praelia quanta illic dispensatore videbis
Armigero? simplex ne furor sestertia centum
Perdere, & horrenti tunicam non reddere servo?
Quis totidem erexit Villas? Quis fercula septem
Secretò coenavit avus? Nunc sportula primo
Limine parva sedet turbae rapienda togatae.
Ille tamen faciem prius inspicit, & trepidat, ne
Suppositus venias, ac falso nomine poscas.
Agnitus accipies: jubet à Praecone vocari
Ipsos Trojugenas, nam vexant limen & ipsi
Nobiscum: da Praetori, da deinde Tribuno.
Sed libertinus prior est, prior inquit ego adsum:
Cur timeam, dubitemve locum defendere? quamvis
Natus ad Euphratem, molles quod in aure fenestrae
Arguerint, licet ipse negem, sed quinque tabernae
Quadringinta parant. Quid confert purpura majus
Optandum? Si Laurenti custodit in agro
Conductas Corvinus opes? ego possideo plus
Pallante & Licinis.
Expectent ergo Tribuni,
Vincant divitiae: sacro nec cedat honori,
Nuper in hanc urbem pedibus qui venerat albis.
Quandoquidem inter nos sanctissma Divitiarum
Majestas, etsi funesta Pecunia templo
Nondum habitas, nullas nummorum ereximus aras,
Ut colitur Pax, atque Fides, Victoria, Virtus,
Quaeque salutato crepitat concordia Nido.
Sed cum summus honor finito computet Anno,
Sportula quid referat, quantum Rationibus addat:
Quid facient comites, quibus hinc toga, calceus hinc est
Et panis fumusque Domi? densissima centum
Quadrantes Lectica petit, sequitúrque Maritum
Languida, vel Praegnans, & circumducitur Uxor.
Hic petit absenti notâ jam callidus Arte,
Ostendens vacuam & clausam pro conjuge sellam,
Galla mea est, inquit, citius dimitte, moraris?
Profer Galla caput: Noli vexare, quiescit.
Ipse Dies pulchro distinguitur ordine rerum;
Sportula, deinde, forum,
Jurisque peritus Apollo.
Atque Triumphales, inter quas Ausus habere,
Nescio quis titulos Aegyptius, atque Arabarches:
Gujus ad effigiem non tantùm mejere Fas est.
Vestibulis abeunt veteres, lassique Clientes.
Votaque deponunt, quamvis longissima Coenae
Spes homini: Caules miseris, atque ignis emendus.
Optima Sylvarum interea Pelagique vorabit,
Nam de tot pulchris & latis orbibus, & tam
Antiquis, unâ comedunt patrimonia mensâ.
Nullus jam Parasitus erit; sed quis feret istas
Luxuriae sordes! quanta est gula, quae sibi totos
Ponit Apros, animal propter convivia natum?
Poena tamen praesens cùm tu deponis amictus
Turgidus, & crudum pavonem in Balnea portas.
Hinc sibitae mortes, atque intestrata senectus:
It nova, nec tristis per cunctas fabula coenas,
Ducitur iratis plaudendum funus amicis.
Nil erit ulterius quod nostris moribus addat
Posteritas, eadem cupient, facientque minores.
Omne in praecipiti vitium stetit, utere velis,
Totos pande sinus. Dicas hic forsitan, unde
Ingenium par materiae? unde illa priorum
Scribendi quodcnnque animo flagrante liberet
Simplicitas, cujus non audeo dicere Nomen.
Quid refert, Dictis ignoscat Mutius, an non?
Pone Tigellinum toedâ lucebis in illa
Qua stantes ardent & fixo Gutture fumant,
Et latum mediâ sulcum deducit arenâ.
Qui dedit ergo tribus patruis aconita, vehatur
Pensilibus Plumis, atque illinc despiciat Nos?
Cum veniet contra digito compesee Libellum,
Accusator erit, qui verbum dixerit, hic est.
Securus licet Aeneam, Rutilum (que) ferocem
Committas: Nulli gravis est percussus Achilles,
Aut multum Quaesitus Hylas urnamque secutus.
Ense velut stricto, quoties Lucilius Ardens
Infremuit, rubet auditor cui frigida mens est
Criminibus, tacitâ sudant Praecordia Culpâ.
Inde Irae & Lacrymae: tecum prius ergo voluta
Haec Animo, ante tubas: Galeatum serò Duelli
Poenitet; experiar, quid concedatur in illos,
Quorum Flaminia tegitur cinis atque Latina.

NOTES.

1. THis I suppose may look somewhat like a Parallel to Quas torqueat umbras Aeacus. For by Torqueat is meant nothing else than to be put upon a Tryal; and how often good honest Loyal men have been summoned before the Devil of an House of Commons, I leave to those that have read the Actions of the RUMP Parliament, and are acquainted with the Pro­ceedings of FORTY ONE.

2. There are various Conjectures delivered upon this Verse, viz. Expectes eadem &c. but this seems to me to be most consonant to the nature of the Place.

3. Canopus was a place in Egypt, twelve Miles distant from Alexandria, reported to be a meer Sodom and Go­morrha; and that I have raised up Islington as somewhat of kin to it, the Inhabitants sure cannot think twill bear an Action of Scandal.

4. A Trick too well known among the brethren of Belly.

[Page]5. This whole description is contained in the word, Prostan­tis, the sense of the Author being this, viz. That oftentimes upon the account of Knavish and extorting Ʋsurers, a poor, di­stressed, over-reachen Heir is forc'd to use the most sordid ways of employment, to get a Livelihood.

6. This Humour of exposing a bad Poet is very consonant to the Genius of Juvenal. Cicero himself is scouted by him for his O Fortunatam Natam &c. and upon the consideration that I pretend to bring my Author to life again, it would be a mere soloecism, if I should not take notice of those verses, which a very wicked Poet and Translator would force upon him, and make the world believe were his own.

7. Those that have read the E. of R. Poems, know very well what I mean by Tariander, but (because I pretend somewhat to Modesty) I shall not explain it at present.

8. Automedon was Achilles his Master of the Horse (if I may so call it) but however his Inclinations that way, was the cause of the destruction of his Estate and Family.

9. Locusta, a Notorious wretch (a French Lady) of this [Page] Name there was in the time of Nero, whom she helped by her execrable experience in Poisons to dispatch Britannicus &c.

10. There is nothing that commends this verse but the Na­turalness of it. And those that understand the true meaning and intent of Rarus enim fermè sensus communis in illis, cannot but acknowledge, that I have personated my Author.

11. This Gentleman translated Juvenal, but after that un­cooth, heavy, and clumsey way, that I may with a safe con­science shake him and Cluvienus in a Bagg. He was certain­ly a very Learned man, and a good Commentator, but it is no less true, that he was a miserable and lamentable Poet.

12. Here I make an honest Countryman of mine stand up and make a kind of a speech, according to the method and laudable custom of our more modern Poems; and which surely Juvenal himself, if he were really alive, would allow of.

13. Quadringinta, to which this relates, was four hundred [Page] Sesterces, 3125l sterling, which was the value of a Roman Knights yearly Revenue. He is called Windsor Knight out of Contempt.

14. There is a great dispute concerning this Place. I think the Design of the Poet is to intimate, that Storks built their Nests, and made a Noise nigh the Temple of Concord: And why I may not call them Jack-Daws, and bring them in as Preachers, let any one shew me a Reason to the contrary.

15. Now Barabbas was a Robber (of the King's Preroga­tive,) who for raising a certain tumult and sedition in the City, was committed &c.

16. The WHIGGS FEAST.

17. Juvenal here has thought good to cantradict what he said when he was first alive, and Resolves now to prosecute the Living, as heretofore he did the Dead. Tis an easie thing, and very natural to take an hint from a Place, and raise up its Con­trary; the definition of Imitation does allow of it.

18. Cowley says,

—I'le cut through all,
And march the Muses Hannibal,

He was all for Action, and making the way clear, where he could not find it already done to his hands. But I, like a good Tory Christian, being strangely taken with the example of Hudibrass, do declare wholly for the valour that is Passive.

FINIS.

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