THE Water-Walker well Wash'd: BEING A True Relation, of a Strange Perambulation of a Person in this Nation, upon a Watery Station, on such a fashion, as gave the Spectators small Delectation.
On Tuesday June 29. 1669.
COme hither all ye people that have leasure
In Town or Country to pursue your pleasure,
Men, maids and boys, and fools & Citizens wives,
That with fine sights often indulge your lives;
Come see The famous Walking on the Water,
And if you've nothing else, you shall have laughter.
At Islington a fatal chance befell,
Upon St. Peters Day, as this will tell;
A Water-walker did attempt t'essay
A serious Matter, but 'twas turn'd t' a Play.
He did his Bills disperse, that he might get
A multitude Trapan'd into his Net:
Who when they came a Prodigy to see,
Big with expecting what the same might be,
That Mountains should bring forth they did expect
But ah, alas! through some fault or neglect,
A Mouse the Product was of th' expectation,
Of this great Wonderful Perambulation;
For when he did out of his Cell appear,
Upon the Water like an Engeneer:
And likely was to get Applause, when, see,
Just as he us saluted, Down sell he.
Instead of walking then, alas! poor wretch!
He e'en sunk down, and fell upon his Breech.
He struggled to get up, but all in vain,
For as he strove to rise, he fell again.
And when that we a second Ambulation
Did yet expect, he stai'd so in his station.
That all did wonder why he lay so long,
'Till he at last did rush out in a Throng,
Who then were like to pull him all in pieces,
As men do tear of sheep the wool in fleeces;
To get their money back, because they'd seen,
Such walking, as the like had never been.
But this I yet can for the Actor say,
'Twas not till meant, though 'twas a fatal day;
For nor the weakness of the Engeneer,
Nor yet the strength of Wine, of Ale, or Beer
Did sink him, but I dare be bold to say,
It was the crosness of St. Peters day.
Doubtless he was presumptuous in excess,
That did thus dare, (although his Faith were less)
To be the Great St. Peters Emulator,
Thus on his day to walk upon the Water:
Though all his Engins were the sons of Art,
And he himself in all points plaid his part,
Nature has an obediential power,
Time, 'its returns, a bad day, Critick hour:
Wherein a Plot, if you will undertake,
You may be sure of it a Duck to make.
Bold Engeneer! me thinks you might have shrunk
From Water on that day St. Peter sunk,
Or could you think your little arts had power,
Beyond small Faith, upon a frowning hour?
Duck't like the Patron of that day, you were,
Both of his fault and punishment the heir.
But, (and 'tis pity) some may truly say,
You for your Ducking got the better pay.
The surface of the Water you did plow,
And for your pains reapt twelve pences enough:
But other things we all might well have lookt for,
When in its yielding billows down you suckt were
I wish that some may not too truly fear,
A Proverb has preserv'd our Engeneer.
This man has walkt on Water oft before,
And will again, or else be seen no more.
And this he'll promise, that without a Boon,
Another day he will dance there alone.
And for his slip amends that he may make,
He'l for your entrance this same Ticket take,
You that have bought this Paper, Judges be,
If th' Author more has cheated you, Or He.