And hunting loved more than his victuals,
And cry of hounds 'bove sound of fiddles.
He saw his dogs neglect their sport,
Having sprung game of better sort;
Which put him in a fit of laughter,
Not dreaming what was coming after.
Bless me! how the young lecher stared!
How pleasingly the spark was scared!
With hidden charms his eyes he fed,
And to our females thus he said:
"Hey, jingo! what the de'il's the matter;
Do mermaids swim in Dartford water?
The poets tell us they have skill in
That sweet melodious art of singing:
If to that tribe you do belong,
Faith, ladies, come let's have a song.
What, silent! ne'er a word to spare me?
Nay, frown not, for you cannot scare me.
IIa, now I see you are mere females,
Made to delight and pleasure us males.
Faith, ladies, do not think me lavish,
If five or six of you I ravish.
I'gad, I must." This did so frighten
The gossips, they seem'd thunder-smitten.
At last Diana takes upon her
To vindicate their injured honor;
And by some necromantic spells,
Strong charms, witchcraft or something else,
In twinkling of the shell of oyster,
Transmogrified the rampant royster
Into a thing some call a no-man,
Unfit to love or please a woman.
The poets, who love to deceive you,
(For once believe them, who'd believe you?) Say that, to quench his lecherous fire,
Into a stag she changed the squire;
Which made him fly o'er hedges skipping
Till his own hounds had spoil'd his tripping.
But I, who am less given to lying,
Than jolly rakes to think of dying,
Do truly tell you here between us,
She only spoil'd the spark for Venus;
Which soon his blood did so much alter,
lle cared for love less than for a halter:
No more the sight of naked beauty
Could prompt his vigor to its duty:
And in this case, you may believe,
He hardly stay'd to take his leave.
IIe had a wife, and she, poor woman,
Soon found in him something uncommon.
In vain she strived, young, fair, and plump,
To rouse to joy the senseless lump.
She from a drone, alas! sought honey,
And from an empty pocket money.
Thus used, she for her ease contrives
That sweet revenge of slighted wives;
And soon of horns a pair most florid
Were by her grafted on his forehead;
At sight of which his shame and anger
Made him first curse, then soundly bang her.
And then his rage, which overpower'd him,
Made poets say his dogs devour'd him.
At Cuckhold's Point he died with sadness;
(Few in his case now show such madness;)
Whilst gossips, pleased at his sad case,
Straight fix'd his horns just on the place,
Lest the memory on't should be forgotten,
When they, poor souls, were dead and rotten;
And then from queen Dick got a patent,
On Charlton-green to set up a tent;
Where once a-year, with friends from Wapping,
They tell how they were taken napping.
The following age improved the matter,
And made two dishes of a platter.
The tent where they used to repair
Is now become a jolly fair;
Where, every eighteenth of October,
Comes citizen demure and sober,
With basket, shovel, pickaxe, stalking,
To make a way for's wife to walk in:
Where, having laid out single money,
In buying horns for dearest honey,
O'er furmity, pork, pig, and ale,
They cheer their souls, and tell this tale.
THE FAMOUS SPEECHMAKER OF ENGLAND;
Or Baron (alias Barren) Lovel's Charge at the Assizes at Exon, April 5, 1710.
To execute laws,
As you may suppose,
Upon such as offenders have been.
So then, not to scatter
More words on the matter,
We're beginning just now to begin.
But hold-first and foremost, I must enter a clause,
As touching and concerning our excellent laws;
Which here I aver
Than them all put together abroad and beyond sea;
For I ne'er read the like, nor e'er shall, I fancy
The laws of our land
Don't abet, but withstand,
Inquisition and thrall,
And whatever may gall,
And fire withal;
And sword, that devours
Wherever it scowers:
liberty and property, for which men pull and hale so,
And they are made for the support of good government also.
Her majesty, knowing
The best way of going
To work for the weal of the nation,
Builds on that rock
Which all storms will mock,
Since religion is made the foundation,
And, I tell you to boot, she
Resolves resolutely
No promotion to give
To the best man alive,
In church or in state,
(I'm an instance of that,) But only to such of a good reputation For temper, morality, and moderation.
Lies running about;
And if you don't put it out,
(That's positive) will increase:
And any may spy,
With half of an eye,
That it comes from our priests and papistical fry.
Ye have one of these fellows,
With fiery bellows,
Come hither to blow and to puff here;
Who, having been toss'd
From pillar to post,
At last vents his rascally stuff here:
Which to such as are honest must sound very oddly,
When they ought to preach nothing but what's very godly;
As here from this place we charge you to do,
As ye'll answer to man, besides ye know who,
Ye have a diocesan,—1
But I don't know the man;
They tell me, however,
The man's a good liver,
And fiery never!
Now, ye under-pullers,
That wear such black colors,
How well would it look,
If his measures ye took,
Thus for head and for rump
Together to jump;
For there's none deserve places,
I speak't to their faces,
But men of such graces,
And I hope he will never prefer any asses;
Especially when I'm so confident on't,
For reasons of state, that her majesty won't.
Know, I myself, I
At the great trial, where there was a geat company,
Of a turbulent preacher, who, cursedly hot,
Turn'd the fifth of November, even the gun-powder plot,
Into impudent railing, and the devil knows what;
Exclaiming like fury-it was at Paul's, London -
How church was in danger, and like to be undone,
And so gave the lie to gracious queen Anne;
And, which is far worse, to our parliament-men:
And then printed a book,
Into which men did look;
True, he made a good text;
But what follow'd next
Was naught but a dunghill of sordid abuses Instead of sound doctrine, with proofs to 't, and uses. It was high time of day
tion should be extinguish'd without more delay; But there was no engine could possibly do't,
Till the commons play'd theirs, and so quite put it out. So the man was tried for 't,
Before highest court:
Now it's plain to be seen
It's his principles I mean,
Where they suffer'd this noisy and his lawyers to bellow:
Which over, the blade
A poor punishment had
For that racket he made.
By which ye may know
They thought, as I do,
That he is but at best an inconsiderable fellow.
Upon this I find here,
And everywhere,
That the country rides rusty, and is all out of geer:
And for what?
May I not
In opinion vary,
And think the contrary,
But it must create
Unfriendly debate,
And disunion straight;
When no reason in nature
Can be given of the matter,
Any more than for shapes or for different stature?
If you love your dear selves, your religion or queen,
Ye ought in good manners to be peaceable men:
For nothing disgusts her
Like making a bluster:
And your making this riot
Is what she would cry at,
Since all her concern's for our welfare and quiet.
I would ask any man
Of them all that maintain
Their passive obedience
With such mighty vehemence,
That damn'd doctrine, I trow!
What he means by it ho',
To trump it up now?
Or to tell me in short,
What need there is for 't?
Ye may say I am hot,
I I am not;
say
Only warm, as the subject on which I am got.
There are those alive yet,
If they do not forget,
May remember what mischiefs it did church and state:
Or at least must have heard
The deplorable calamities
It drew upon families,
About sixty years ago and upward.
And now, do ye see,
Whoever they be
That make such an oration
In our protestant nation,
As though church was all on a fire,
With whatever cloak
They may cover their talk,
And wheedle the folk,
That the oaths they have took,
As our governors strictly require ;
I say they are men (and I'm a judge ye all know) That would our most excellent laws overthrow;
For the greater part of them to church never go;
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