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THE Memoirs of Monsieur Deageant, containing the most secret Transactions and Affairs of France, from the Death of Henry IV. untill the beginning of the Ministery of the Cardinal de Richelieu. To which is added a particular Relation of the Archbishop of Embrun's Voyage into England, and of his Negotiation for the Advancement of the Roman Catholick Religion here; together with the Duke of Buckingham's Letters to the said Archbishop, about the Progress of that Affair; which happencd the last Year of King James I. his Reign: Faithfully Translated out of the French Original. Printed for Richard Baldwin, 1690.
THE School of Politicks: OR, THE HUMOURS OF A COFFEE-HOUSE.
A POEM.
Tantúmne ab re tua otii est, aliena ut cures? Terent.
Licensed, Apr. 15. 1690.
LONDON, Printed for Richard Baldwin, next the Black-Bull in the Old-Baily. 1690.
THE School of Politicks: OR, THE HUMOURS OF A COFFEE-HOUSE. ODES.
I.
'TWAS Claret that we drank, and 'twas as fine,
As ever yet deserv'd the name of Wine;
Each Man his Flask we thought a mod'rate Dose,
When just as we were giving o'er,
Comes in our honest Landlord in the Close,
Protesting we should drink his Bottle more:
Which done, and all our Reck'ning paid,
Each did a sev'ral way repair;
Some went to walk, and some to bed:
But I, who had an hour to spare,
Went to a nighb'ring Coffee-house, and there
With sober Liquor to refine my Head.
II.
What e'er th' occasion was I cannot tell,
Whether the Wine had discompos'd my Mind,
Or some false Medium did my Reason blind,
But so it was, I took the Place for Hell;
The Master of the House, with fiery Face,
Did like insulting Pluto seem,
Whilst all his Guests he did condemn
To drink a Liquor of infernal Race,
Black, scalding, and of most offensive smell:
Trembling and pale, I cross'd my self all o'er,
And mumbled Ave-Maries by the score.
At length, by strange insensible degrees,
My fears all vanish'd, and my Mind sound ease,
My scatter'd Reason re-assum'd its place,
And I perceiv'd with whom, and where I was.
III.
The murmuring Buzz which through the Room was sent,
Did Bee-hives noise exactly represent;
And like a Bee-hive too 'twas fill'd, and thick,
All tasting of the Honey Politick,
Call'd News, which they as greedily suck'd in,
As Nurses Milk young Babes were ever seen.
The various Tones and different noise of Tongues,
From lofty sounding Dutch and German Lungs,
[Page 3] Together with the sost melodious Notes,
Of Spaniards, Frenchmen, and Italian Throats,
Who met in this State-Conventicle,
Compos'd a kind of Harmony,
Which did in Concord disagree;
Nay, even Babel's fatal Overthrow,
More sorts of Languages did never know,
Nor were they half so various, and so fickle.
IV.
The place no manner of distinction knew,
'Twixt Christian, Heathen, Turk, or Jew,
The Fool and the Philosopher
Sate close by one another here,
And Quality no more was understood
Than Mathematicks were before the Floud.
Here sate a Knight, by him a rugged Sailer;
Next him a Son of Mars,
Adorn'd with honourable Scars;
By them a Courtier, and a Woman's Taylor:
A Tradesman and a grave Divine,
Sate talking of affairs beyond the Line;
Whilst in a Corner of the Room
Sate a fat Quack the fam'd Poetick Tom,
Pleas'd to hear Advertisements read,
Where 'mongst lost Dogs, and other fav'rite Breed,
His famous Pills were chronicled:
[Page 4] The half Box eighteen Pills for eighteen Pence,
Though 'tis too cheap in any Man's own Sense.
Lawyers and Clients, Sharpers and their Cullies,
Quakers, Pimps, Atheists, Mountebanks and Bullies,
Clean or unclean, if here they call,
The place, like Noah's Ark, receives 'em all.
V.
Had Lilbourn been alive to see
This Hotch-potch of Society,
Some other measures he had ta'en,
When he the Work of Levelling began;
For All here stand on equal ground.
As I have seen in Storms at Sea,
For common safety all are willing found,
To hawl a Cable, guide an Oar,
To stem the Tide, and bring the Ship to Shoar;
So in this School of Polity,
Each thinks himself as much concern'd as they
Who sit in Council Chamber ev'ry day;
And all their Maxims have a share
Of the Professions which thcir Masters are.
The quick-eye'd Sectary pretends to see
Under Lawn Sleeves the growth of Popery.
The Smith upon the Anvil of his Brain
Forms a new Commonwealth again.
[Page 5] The Carpenter in his projecting Pate
Makes Props t'uphold the tott'ring State:
The Quack too, with his Close-stool Face,
Does with his senseless Reasons urge,
The British Islands want a Purge:
And Ah!—Were he but once in Place,
He'd—but there stops, and thinks the Age not fit
To know the Wonders of his mighty Wit.
VI.
But the chief Scene was yet to come,
Which was to hear the various Argument
Which fill'd all corners of the Room,
Concerning the Affairs of Christendom.
I being seated to content
List'ned with most profound attention to
One of the loudest of the prating Crew,
Who after spitting thrice began,
Stroaking his Beard,—Quoth he, Here sits the Man
Who Thirty several Campaigns has seen,
At five and forty Sieges been,
And in both foreign and domestick Wars
Receiv'd as many Scars,
As I upon my Head have Hairs.
You prate, continued he, to make you merry,
Of Sligo, and of Bellishannon,
Of Carrickfergus and Dundalk,
Were us'd at Siege of London-derry;
Mere stuff, and nothing else but Talk.
Now if the Wars you would delight in,
And see the very Soul of Fighting,
Go but this Spring to Flanders,
Flanders the Scene of Action, where
Death keeps his Revels all the Year:
There are no Petticoat Commanders,
Things clad in red, which have no braver Souls
Than Parrots, Apes, or Owls;
But hardy Youths,—so us'd to ruff,
That their own Skins become a nat'ral Buff:
These are the Lads,—and I was one,
Although I say't my self,—have often gone,
Through thickest Squadrons of the Horse,
And with my single force,
Made a whole Troop retire in haste:
This good old Blade which by my Side I wear,
Assisted by my Arm, I swear,
Has kill'd a dozen Men before I broke my fast,
Nor living is that daring He,
Who but provokes this trusty Sword,
But shall—
—At speaking of which word,
Two Serjeants came and laid
Their Paws upon this daring Blade;
[Page 7] But so submissive, and so tame,
Was this courageous Son of Fame!—
The Company with Laughter let him pass
To Prison, for a most vainglorious Ass.
VII.
Scarce was this Son of Thunder gone,
Who tir'd the Ears of every one,
Yet with his blust'ring Language warm,
But new Discourse began,
Talk understood by every one
Concerning the late dreadfull Storm.
Lord! Nighbour, did you ever hear
(Says one) so terrible a Wind?
I that have liv'd this threescore Years,
The like could never find,
How Sir, (replied his Friend,)—have you forgot
That blust'ring Night that Noll th' Usurper died?
When all the Winds in order tried,
Who should blow hardest on the Spot,
A Storm so dreadfull that 'twas thought
About by Witchcraft brought;
When trembling Atheists went to Prayer,
Thinking the Day of Judgment near;
And Fear appear'd in ev'ry Face.
Pish, (cries his Friend,)—what that time was,
I well remember, but, alass!
Than farting of a Cloud, or shrieking of a Door.
I'll teil you: There was lately sent
To me a Letter out of Kent,
Which says, it blew the Devil's Drop
(A Rock by Dover seen)
Along the Shoar, as if 't had been
A School-boy's Gig or Top,
And plac'd it on this side the Hope,
And that was strange.—
—But not by half,
So wonderfull (another speaks,) as that
I now am going to relate:
Grazing it took an Essex Calf,
Near to the Shoar, and blew him cross the River,
Quite into Kent, where the poor thing remains
As sound and well as ever.
This caus'd the Company to laugh out-right:
Which Mirth t'increase a jolly Sailer swore,
That on that ne'er to be forgotten Night,
(Though to preserve her they had spar'd no pains,)
Their goodly Ship was stranded near the Shoar,
Laden with Claret from Bourdeaux she came;
The Vessel dash'd to pieces, every Man
Nimbly to save himself began;
I, for my part, seeing a Hogshead float,
Quickly astride upon it got,
[Page 9] And, Faith, I think I was not much to blame,
My drunken Friend and I got safe to Land,
Where in requital of the good
He did me, caus'd his dearest Bloud
To issue from him upon my command,
My Friends and I were merry at his death,
And I shall ne'er forget him while l've breath.
Finding this dull Romantick strain,
Amongst that Company to reign,
Whose Talk was nothing else but Fable,
I, leaving them, went to another Table.
VIII.
At which by accident (no doubt) were got
Demurely grave of Citizens a knot,
With shaking Heads and lift up Eyes,
Discoursing upon Prodigies.
Ah Friends! the Times (says one) are very sad,
Although the Wicked still remain as bad
As if all things were settled—T'other Night,
As very late by Westminster I came,
Methought the Element was all on flame,
And one of th' Heads upon the Iron Spire
Over the Hall, distinctly cried out Fire:
Nay, I a while ago was told,
That, at Noon-day, the Horse which stands
For Provender, while the affrighted Croud
Stood shivering both with Fear and Cold:
Now when Vice grows so strong, and Faith so weak,
No wonder 'tis the very Stones should speak:
What these unlucky Signs portend
I must confess I cannot comprehend;
Let God (and then he d'offt his Hat)
In his good time discover that.
Why, Nighbour, (says his Elbow-Friend,)
For certain 'tis, you cannot be
So blind as not to see,
The Head which cried out Fire denotes
A disagreement in the Senate's Votes;
But Heav'n avert the Prodigy;
And th' Horses Neighing speaks as plain
This Summer's scarcity of Grain:
But I'm no Prophet, if I were,
Events more wonderfull I'd shew,
Than ever Gadbury or Lilly knew,
Events should make the Nation stare;
What pity 'tis that Prophecy is ceas'd!
What pity 'tis, (thought I) thou are not plac'd
In Bedlam, where there cannot be
One half so Lunatick as thee:
Darkness, fresh Straw, and slender Diet,
And shaving th' Hair from thy thick Skull,
But leaving this so very dull,
Most whimsical, and senseless Crew,
I softly to another place withdrew.
IX.
Where six raw Countrey Fellows sate
To hear an empty Wittal prate.
They to no Sermon in their Lives
Did ever such attention lend,
And each one by his grinning strives
Who most shall his Discourse commend:
One whisp'ring t'other in the Ear,
E'fack, Ned, did you ever hear
(Says he) such Stories from our silly Vicar,
O'er Whitson Ale, or Christmass Liquor?
No, Vaith, Tom, (answers he,) in all my born
I ne'er heard sike an ean, who does not scorn
To tell us all the News; he should, I'm zhure,
By's head-piece, be a Countseller.
By this time our admired Wit
Had drank his Dish of Tea, and then
Begins with—
—Look ye, Gentlemen,
'Tis plain, the Emperour intends
To make a strict Alliance with his Friends,
E'gad, you'll see some curious Summers Work,
And if things do but bit,
(And I may live to see it,)
Those two proud Tyrants tumble from their Thrones,
And on their humble Marrow-bones,
Beg to b'admitted Grooms of th' Stable,
And eat Scraps from the Servants Table:
When this is done, they will, I hope,
Have at his Holiness the Pope,
With all his red-faced Cardinals,
Who wait upon St. Peter's Chair;
A Chair has held this Sixteen hundred Year
Without being mended, as I hear.
The great Mogul next to their Fury falls,
And when they've overcome the Cannibals
The Work is done, and we may live at peace,
Enjoy our Friends, and always be at ease.
Boy, bring the Gazette.—Sir, 'tis not come in.
Pox take you, fetch it, for it has been seen
At Jonathan's two hours ago.—But, Sir,—
But, Puppy, What do I come hither for,
To spend my time in this dull smoaky Room?
Pray be not angry, Sir, the Gazette's come.
Here, Lad, let's see't—So, so, here's tickling News,
Lost Dogs, lost Horses, Soldiers run away
Without their Wits, and to avoid their Pay.
The Hammer's down—he has you in a trice.
But, Sir, (says one,) what kind of News is this?
For let me dye if I know what it is.
Oh, Sir, (replies the Spark) I always read
Gazettes as Witches pray; for they, 'tis said,
Do backwards mumble out their Pater Noster;
But now for News, i'th' twinkling of an Oyster.
Reads.
Francfort, March 29. Several Boats arrive daily with Provisions that are ordered to be laid up here for the use of the Imperial Forces, which will now very quickly be in motion. The late Flouds have broke the Bridge of Boats at Philipsburg.
Brussels, April. 2.—
Hold, Sir, (says one,) e'er farther you go on
Pray tells us where abouts does stand that Town
Call'd Francfort.—
—Why, Sir, (answers he,) it lies
Upon the barb'rous Coast of Africa,
Snatch'd from the Moors by mere surprize;
For on a very memorable day,
Or rather Night, as they were all employ'd
In gazing on the then Eclipsed Moon,
The Emp'rours Vessels, cruising near the Shoar,
Took the advantage of their busied sense,
And gain'd the Town:—not many were destroy'd;
[Page 14] Fear bound the Hands of many, Wonder more;
So with small Bloudshed they were Captives soon.
The City's neatly built, and 'twas from thence
The German Balls, so fam'd for cleaning Shoes,
First came.—I'd read some other News,
But I'm oblig'd by such an hour
To be at—Gentlemen, I am your
Most humble Servant.—Boy, here's for my Tea.
Then leaves the Room.—But, Lord! to hear the Praise
These Blockheads did to his bold Nonsense raise,
Would almost make a witty Man forswear
All Claim to Modesty and Sense,
Since the Accomplishments which bear
A Man through Life, are Ignorance and Impudence.
X.
In close Caball were in a Corner met
A Knot of Men, whose Faces wore
The Livery of Discontent,
Sighs from their Breasts incessantly were sent,
One by their Looks might see their Hearts did fret,
Like murm'ring Israelites of yore,
They frown'd, they stamp'd, they bit their Thumbs,
They wink'd, they nodded, nay, would sometimes smile,
When something did their airy hopes beguile,
Yet not a Word between their Lips there comes.
[Page 15] What this dumb Scene did represent,
Or what by Signs and Nods was meant,
Conjecture only gives us leave to guess:
They were no Friends to th' Government,
But there they met their Thoughts to ease,
Which Thoughts by Words if they should dare t'express,
Their Necks, or Purses at the least,
Might pay for th' Tongue's untimely Jest.
Self Preservation's first of Nature's Laws:
To be Well-wishers they're content,
But care not to be Martyrs for the Cause.
XI.
From this most unintelligible Crew
I went, another Scene to view,
If the forementioned were reserv'd and close,
These were more open, and more free,
For Wine no secret ever knows,
And that these Sparks had drank t'a large degree.
You Sirrah Boy, (says one,) go fetch m'a Whore,
A lusty strapping Bona Roba,
E'gad, I shall so jerk her Toby,
I'd make her—but Ill say no more
At present—Pox this Coffee scalds my Throat,
(Another cries,) 'tis in all Sense too hot;
Prethee go fetch a Pair of Bellows hither,
And make my Dish know cooler weather:
[Page 16] That ever Man should be so great an Ass,
To suffer Wine (that plaguy Thief) to pass
Between his Lips, that slily did convey
His Sense, his Reason, and his Brains away:
How happy those dull Nations are,
That know no other Liquor but small Beer!
You, Harry, (then there bawls a third,)
If of Sobriety you speak one word,
By Jupiter, and all the Heathen Gods,
Your Sword and mine shall be at mortal odds;
I for my part, without Reflexions,
Against Small Beer have forty Actions;
They're to be tried next Term, and if I cast it,
I'll make't High Treason for my Friends to taste it:
Boy, bring m'a Glass of Usquebaugh,
By People nicknam'd Lill' bullero,
'Tis good against the Gripes, they say,
My Humour's this—Dum spiro spero:
Come here's a Health to th' King of Poland;
Well, here sit I, who though Ive no Land,
Suppose my self as great as he,
Nay, as th' great Cham of Tartary;
My Crown's a suddling Cap, a Pipe my Sceptre;
My Bottle represents my Globe,
And any Cloaths serve for a Regal Robe;
My Queen my Mistress, when I kept her;
[Page 17] Drawers (or else 'tis very hard)
Will serve me for my Corps du Guard;
But when Incognito I reel,
A Link-boy serves the turn as well;
And, Gentlemen, to shew I'm yours,
Know you're my Privy Counsellours.
Well, we advise thee to go home,
(Says one,) and try by Sleep to overcome
This Humour.—
—Well, for once it shall be said,
(Says he,) That Counsel I obey'd;
Here, Boy, your Money,—Gentlemen let's go,
Egad methinks I tread on Wool, or Snow,
My head's so light,—well, when I come again
I'll make new Orders in my drinking Reign.
XII.
This merry Farce diverted all the Room:
These you may know had no design
The Quiet of the State to undermine,
He thinks no Treason that's top-full of Wine;
Men that sit brooding o'er their Fears at home,
Or else abroad in private Corners meet,
And there with secret Whispers sit,
Are those disturb the Peace of Christendom;
The Juice o'th' Grape may nurse an ill design,
But certain 't never was begot by Wine.
XIII.
Hearing loud Talk and warm Dispute,
I sate me down to listen to't:
A Cluster were ingag'd, but chiefly Two
Unsheath'd their Arguments, and drew
In Controversie's open Field;
He who did the defensive Weapon wield
Was both to Wit and Sense allied,
Nay, more, the Truth was on his side;
His Habit rich, but modest,—t'other,
Yea plainly, a dissenting Brother,
Who confidently would maintain,
The Papists first the War began,
In those sad Times when Jealousies and Fears
Set Folks together by the Ears;
Nay, more, that they the Persons were
Who brought the King into the Snare,
And when they had him safely there,
Did, in the sight of all Beholders,
Take off his Head from off his Shoulders.
(A Lye so very gross like this,
What Hearer would not take amiss?)
This caus'd the Gentleman to storm,
Already with his Canting warm;
How, Sir, (says he,) can you with any Face
Transfer the Guilt, most justly yours,
'Tis own'd, are bad enough; but can you, 'pray,
Inform us who amongst those ruling Powers
That sate at Westminster that fatal Day,
When Charles (the Good, the Pious, and the Just,
Being from Kingdoms three most basely thrust,)
Was tried, which of them all e'er went to Mass?
What Roman Catholick to sign was known
The Warrant for his Execution.
Hold, Sir, (replies the other,) not too fast:
Upon the Stage they did not much appear,
'Tis own'd, but they behind the Curtain stood, and what
Was ordered to be done was then effected.
Good Counsel ought not, Sir, to be rejected,
(Replies the other,) but 'tis plain and clear,
The Guilt should only at your Doors be cast.—
At mine, Sir, pray excuse me, I comply
With ev'ry Government.—That's uppermost you mean.
But, Sir, since you and I have been
Disputing thus, let me one Secret tell.—
A Secret, (said I;) no, 'tis known too well,
No Government your Party ever pleas'd;
And if that Miracles had not been ceas'd,
Should Heaven to humour you create
A Kingdom, Commonwealth, or State,
Together with such wise and wholesome Laws,
Wherein sharp Criticks could discern no flaws,
[Page 20] Yet you'd be still uneasie.—
—Sir, too far
You stretch your Argument, for are
We not as quiet in the present Reign,
As those who stiffly Monarchy maintain?
Yes, doubtless, you (replies the other) can
Conform to all the Modes which e'er
The Government are ready to prepare;
But your Compliance is but Masquerade,
Your Loyalty is forc'd, your Faith a Trade;
T'enjoy your Liberty the State thinks fit,
Pray Heav'n you make good use of it;
Forbear your Canting, Whining, idle Style,
With no amusements see you do beguile
Your Hearers; strive but to be true;
Against the Laws do you forget to rail,
And let but Sense' gainst Bigotry prevail;
And then—
—Oh! Sir, we know what best to doe,
We come not here to be inform'd by you.—
But Counsel's cheap, Sir, I demand no Fees.—
But you may counsel others if you please.—
Nay, if you're angry, Sir, I'm gone;
This 'tis when good advice is thrown
Away on Men; but e'er your Company I leave,
Remember this, while vainly you believe
Others to cheat, you don't your selves deceive.
XIV.
Great News from Ireland, is heard at Door,
Which puts the Audience to a stand,
To fetch it in there is command,
And one attempts to read it o'er
But interrupted by a prating Fop.
You talk, (says he,) I mean you hope
That Ireland will this Summer be reduc'd;
You may as well suppose
The Bay of Biscay will be froze;
No, no, with Stories you're amus'd,
K. J—'s Men and Money's not so poor,
And I prononnce him Son of' Whore,
Who wishes Him or's Army were confus'd.
This made the Company to stare:
At last one takes him up with—Sir, I dare,
Though not to's Person, yet to's Cause
Wish ruin, and if any here
Do not the self-same thing aver,
He is without much Complement an Ass.
An Ass, Sir, (cries the other,) Faith, I don't
Much use to pocket up such an Affront;
You wear no Sword, I see, and 'twould be base
To draw upon a naked Man,
But here's my Dish of Coffee in your Face.
[Page 22] T'other, though scalded, would not be
Behind hand with him in Civility,
But flung a Glass of Mum so pat,
It spoild both Perriwig and Point Cravat:
On this a Quarrel soon began,
Till Constable, with pacifying Staff,
Appeas'd the Fray, and the Contenders have
Some respite, one his Face to cure,
And t'other to refresh his Garniture.
XV.
The Votes are come—Ay, there's some News indeed,
And one does all distinctly read;
Which finish'd, every one began
To make remarks.—With shaking Head,
Cries on, I think the Parliament are mad
To tax us thus; we shall e'er long
Not know to whom our Souls belong;
Nay 'tis reported they prepare
A Bill to regulate our Fare;
And none without accustom'd Fees
Shall eat of Licens'd Bread and Cheese;
For—
—Hold, Sir, cries another Man,
E'er farther in your Nonsense you go on;
What to the Taxes have you paid,
Or given to the Royal Aid?
[Page 23] If I mistake not, you're no more
Than Journeyman t'a Shoe-maker,
And yet your Little Worship must complain,
But 'twould, alass! be but in vain
To preach Sense to thy cloudy Brain;
Or else, 't might be evinc'd that none
In Europe's large Dominions are so free
From griping Taxes of the Purse as we;
Besides, what in that nature's done,
Is the effect of mere Necessity,
Shall th' King his Person for our sakes expose,
And we our little Aids refuse?
They're worse than Infidels and Jews,
Who out of Complaisance to Purse,
Their future Happiness will lose,
And on Posterity entail a Curse.
XVI.
More various Scenes of Humour I might tell,
Which in my little stay befell;
Such as grave Citts, who spending Farthings four,
Sit, smoke, and warm themselves an hour,
Of modish Town-sparks, drinking Chocolate,
With Bevir cockt, and laughing loud,
To be thought Wits amongst the Crowd,
Or sipping Tea, while they relate
[Page 24] Their Ev'ning's Frolick at the Rose.
But now I think 'tis time to close,
Lest to my Reader I should give offence,
And he be tir'd with mine,
As I was with their dull Impertinence.
My Reck'ning paid, I left the Room,
And in my passage Home,
Reflected thus—Is this the much desir'd
Blessing of Life, which most unjustly we
Call Regular Society?
Well, to my Closet I'll repair,
Past Times with present to compare,
My self to strictest Study I'll condemn,
And 'mongst some Authours wise and good,
Who Mankind best have understood,
My Weeks, Months, Years, endeavour to redeem,
Which vainly foolish, and unthinking I
Have spent in what we falsely call Good Company.
THE END.