| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II
Author: Fillebrown, Thomas
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II" ***
BROWN, SERIOUS AND COMICAL : IN PROSE AND VERSE, WITH HIS REMAINS IN
FOUR VOLUMES COMPLEAT; VOL. II ***
THE
SECOND VOLUME
OF THE
WORKS
OF
Mr. _Thomas Brown_.
Containing
LETTERS
FROM THE
DEAD to the LIVING,
And from the
LIVING to the DEAD.
Together with
_Dialogues of the DEAD_,
After the Manner of LUCIAN.
The Seventh Edition carefully Corrected.
_LONDON_:
Printed by and for _Edward Midwinter_, at the
_Looking-Glass_ on _London-Bridge_. 1730.
THE
WORKS
OF
Mr. _Thomas Brown_.
VOLUME the Second.
[Illustration]
_LONDON_: Printed in the Year, 1727.
[Illustration]
The CONTENTS
Of the Second Volume.
A _Letter of News from
Mr._ Joseph Haines,
_of Merry Memory, to his
Friends at_ Will’s Coffee-House
_in_ Covent-Garden Page 1
_The Answer_ 18
Scarron _to_ Lewis XIV. 21
Hannibal _to P._ Eugene 33
Pindar _to_ Tom Durfey 34
James II. _to_ Lewis XIV. 35
_The Answer_ 38
Julian _to_ Will. Pierre 41
_The Answer_ 44
Antiochus _to_ Lewis XIV. 48
_The Answer_ 50
Catherine de Medicis _to the
Duchess of_ Orleans 52
_The Answer_ 54
_Cardinal_ Mazarine _to the
Marquis_ de Barbisieux 55
_The Answer_ 57
Mary I. _to the Pope_ 58
_The Answer_ 60
Harlequin _to_ le Chaise 61
_The Answer_ 63
_Duke of_ Alva _to the Clergy
of_ France 64
_The Answer_ 66
Philip _of_ Austria _to the_ Dauphin 67
_The Answer_ 69
Juvenal _to_ Boileau 70
_The Answer_ 72
Diana _of_ Poictiers _to Madam_
Maintenon 74
_The Answer_ 76
Hugh Spencer _junr. to all
Favourites, &c._ 77
_The Answer_ 79
Julia _to the Princess of_
Conti 80
_The Answer_ 83
Dionysius _junr. to all Favourites,
&c._ 85
_The Answer_ 87
Christiana _Queen of_ Sweden,
_to the Ladies_ 88
_The Answer_ 91
Dr. Francis Rabelais _to the
Physicians_ 93
_The Answer_ 96
_Duchess of_ Fontagne _to the_
Cumean _Sybil_ 97
_The Answer_ 99
_The Mitred Hog_ 101
_Beau_ Norton _to the Beaux_ 118
Perkin Warbeck _to the pretended
Prince of Wales_ 123
Dryden _to the Lord_ -- 124
Cowley _to the_ Covent Garden
_Society_ 125
Charon _to_ Jack Catch 126
_Sir_ Bartholomew Shower _to
Serjeant S--_ 127
Jo. Haines’_s_ 2d _Letter_ 132
_Sir_ Fleetwood Shepherd _to
Mr._ Prior 153
_The Answer_ 156
Pomigny _of_ Auvergne _to
Mr._ Abel _the singing
Master_ 157
_The Answer_ 160
_Signor_ Nichola _to Mr._ Buckly
_at the Swan Coffee-House
in_ Bloomsbury 162
Ignatius Loyola _to the Archbishop
of_ Toledo 163
_Alderman_ Floyer _to Sir_
Humphry Edwin 165
_Sir_ John Norris, _Q._ Elizabeth’s
_General, to Sir_
Henry Bellasis _and Sir_
Charles Hara 167
_Duke of_ Medina Sidonia _to
Mons._ Chateau Renault 170
Marcellinus _to Mons._ Boileau 172
Cornelius Gallus _to the Lady_
Dilliana 176
_Bully_ Dawson _to Bully_ Watson 179
_The Answer_ 192
Nell Gwinn _to_ Peg Hughes 201
_The Answer_ 202
Hugh Peters _to_ Daniel Burgess 204
_The Answer_ 211
Ludlow _to the Calves-Head
Club_ 214
_The Answer_ 216
Naylor _to the_ Quakers 219
_The Answer_ 223
Lilly _to_ Cooley 226
_The Answer_ 230
Tony Lee _to_ Cave Underhill 233
_The Answer_ 236
_Alderman_ Blackwell _to Sir_
C. Duncombe 237
_The Answer_ 241
Henry Purcell _to Dr._ Blow 245
_The Answer_ 247
_Mrs._ Behn _to the Virgin
Actress_ 250
_The Answer_ 254
_Madam_ Creswell _to_ Moll
Quarles 257
_The Answer_ 262
Jo. Haines’s _third Letter_ 267
Certamen Epistolare _between
an Attorney of_ Clifford’s-Inn
_and a dead Parson
from_ Page 290 _to_ Page 305
_Dialogues of the Dead from_ Page 306 to the end.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
LETTERS
FROM THE
DEAD to the LIVING.
PART I.
_A_ Letter _of News from Mr._ JOSEPH HAINES, _of Merry Memory, to
his Friends at_ Will_’s Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden. _By Mr._
THO. BROWN.
_Gentlemen_,
I Had done myself the honour to write to you long ago, but wanted a
convenience of sending my letter; for you must not imagine ’tis as easy
a matter for us on this side the river _Styx_, to maintain a
correspondence with you in the upper world, as ’tis to send a pacquet
from _London_ to _Rotterdam_, or from _Paris_ to _Madrid_: But upon the
news of a fresh war ready to break out in your part of the world,
(which, by the by, makes us keep holy-day here in hell) _Pluto_ having
thought fit to dispatch an extraordinary messenger to see how your
parliament, upon whose resolutions the fate of _Europe_ seems wholly to
depend, will behave themselves in this critical conjuncture. I tipp’d
the fellow a George to carry this letter for me, and leave it with the
master at _Will_’s in his way to _Westminster_.
I am not insensible, gentlemen, that _Homer_, _Virgil_, _Dante_, Don
_Quevedo_, and many more before me, have given an account of these
subterranean dominions, for which reason it may look like affectation or
vanity in me to meddle with a subject so often handled; but if new
travels into _Italy_, _Spain_ and _Germany_, are daily read with
approbation, because new matters of enquiry and observation perpetually
arise, I don’t see why the present state of the _Plutonian_ kingdoms may
not be acceptable, there having been as great changes and alterations in
these infernal regions, as in any other part of the universe whatever.
When I shook hands with your upper hemisphere, I stumbled into a dark,
uncouth, dismal lane, which, if it be lawful to compare great things
with small, somewhat resembles that dusky dark cut under the mountains
called the _grotto_ of _Puzzoli_ in the way to _Naples_. I was in so
great a consternation, that I don’t remember exactly how long it was,
but this I remember full well, that there were a world of ditches on
both sides of the wall, adorned and furnished with harpies, gorgons,
centaurs, chimeras, and such like pretty curiosities, which could not
but give a man a world of titillation as he traveled on the road. The
three-headed _Gerion_, put me in mind of the master of the _Temple_’s
three intellectual minds, and when I saw _Briares_ with his hundred arms
and hands, out of my zeal to king _William_ and his government, I could
not but wish that we had so well qualify’d a person for secretary of
state ever since the Revolution; for having so many heads and hands to
employ, he might easily have managed all affairs domestick and foreign,
and been both dictator and clerk to himself. Which besides the advantage
of keeping secret all orders and instructions, (and that you know,
gentlemen, is of no small importance in politicks) would have saved his
majesty no inconsiderable sum in his civil list.
Being arrived at the end of this doleful and execrable lane, I came into
a large open, barren plain, thro’ which ran a river, whose water was as
black as my hat: Coming to the banks of this wonderful river, an old
ill-look’d wrinkl’d fellow in a tatter’d boat, which did not seem to be
worth a groat, making towards the shoar, beckon’d, and held out his
right-hand to me: Knowing nothing of his business or character, I could
not imagine what he meant by doing so; but upon second thoughts,
thinking he had a mind to have his fortune told, _You must understand,
old gentleman_, says I to him, _that there are three principal lines in
a man’s hand, the first of which is called by the learned_ Ludovicus
Vives, _Secretary to_ Tamerlain _the magnificent, the_ linea boetica,
_line of life; the second, the_ linea hepatica, _or liver line; the
third and last, the_ linea intercalaris, _so call’d by_ Sebastian
Munster _and_ Erra Pater, _because it crosses the two aforesaid lines in
an equicrural parabola_. Hold your impertinent stuff, says the old
ferryman, _erra_ me no _erra paters_, but speak to the point, and give
me my fare, if you design to come over. By this I perceiv’d my mistake,
and knew him to be _Charon_: So I dived into my pockets, but alas! I
found all the birds were flown, if ever any had been there, which you
may believe, gentlemen, was no small mortification to me. Get you gone
for a rascally scoundrel as you are, says _Charon_, some son of whore of
a fiddler, or player, I warrant you; go and take up your quarters with
those pennyless rogues that are sunning themselves on yonder hillock. To
see now how a man may be mistaken by a fair outside! when I came up to
’em, I found them a parcel of jolly well-look’d fellows, who, one would
have thought were wealthy enough to have fined for sheriffs: I counted,
let me see, six princes of the empire that were younger brothers, ten
_French_ counts, fourteen knights of _Malta_, twelve _Welsh_ gentlemen,
sixteen _Scotch_ lairds, with abundance of chymists, projectors,
insurers, noblemens creditors, and the like; that were all wind-bound
for want of the ready _rhino_. Two days we continued in this doleful
condition; and as Dr. _Sherlock_ says of himself, in relation to the
13th chapter of the _Romans_, _here I stuck, and had stuck till the last
conflagration, if it had not been for bishop_ Overall_’s
Convocation-Book_; e’en so here we might have tarry’d world without end,
if an honest teller of the _Exchequer_, and a clerk of the _pay-office_,
had not come to our relief; who understanding our case, cry’d out,
_Come along, gentlemen, we have money enough to defray twenty such
trifles as this; God be prais’d, we had the good luck to die before the
parliament looked into our accounts_. With that they gave _Charon_ a
broad-piece each of ’em, so our whole caravan consisting of about 70
persons in all, that had not a farthing in the world to bless
themselves, ferry’d over to the other side of the river.
As we were crossing the stream, _Charon_ told us how an _Irish_ captain
would have trick’d him. He came strutting down to the river-side, says
he, as fine as a prince, in a long scarlet cloak, all bedaub’d with
silver lace, but had not a penny about him. _Dear joy_, crys he to me,
_I came away in a little haste from the other world, and left my
breeches behind me, but I’ll make thee amends by Chreest and St._
Patrick, _for I’ll refresh thy antient nostrils with some of_
Hippolito_’s best snuff, which cost me a week ago, a crown an ounce_. I
told the _Hibernian_, that old birds were not to be taken with chaff,
nor _Charon_ to be banter’d out of his due with a little dust of
sot-weed; and giving him a reprimand with my stretcher over the noddle,
bid him go, like a coxcomb as he was, about his business. The wretch
santer’d about the banks for a month, but at last, pretended to be a
_Frenchman_, got over gratis this summer, among the duke of _Orlean_’s
retinue. But what was the most surprizing piece of news I ever heard,
_Charon_ assured us, upon his veracity, that the late king of _Spain_
was forc’d to lie by full a fortnight, for want of money to carry him
over; for cardinal _Portocarero_ had been so busy in forging his will,
that he had forgot to leave the poor monarch a farthing in his pocket;
and that at last, one of his own grandees, coming by that way, was so
complaisant as to defray his prince’s passage; and well he might, says
our surly ferryman, for in five years time he had cheated him of two
millions.
We were no sooner landed on the other side of the river, but some of us
fil’d off to the right, and others to the left, as their business called
them: For my part, I made the best of my way to the famous city
_Brandinopolis_, seated upon the river _Phlegethon_, as being a place of
the greatest commerce and resort in all king _Pluto_’s dominions. Who
should I meet upon the road but my old friend said acquaintance Mr.
_Nokes_, the comedian, who received me with all imaginable love and
affection? Mr. _Haines_, says he, _I am glad with all my heart to see
you in Hell_; upon my salvation, we have expected you here this great
while, and I question not but our royal master will give you a reception
befitting a person of your extraordinary merit. Mr. _Nokes_, said I,
_Your most obedient servant_, you are pleas’d to compliment, but I know
no other merit I have, but that of being honour’d with your friendship.
_But my dear_ Jo., cries he, _how go affairs in Covent-Garden?_ Does
cuckoldom flourish, and fornication maintain its ground still against
the reformers? And the play-house in _Drury-Lane_, is it as much
frequented as it us’d to be? I had no sooner given him a satisfactory
answer to these questions, but we found ourselves in the suburbs; so my
friend _Nokes_, with that gaity and openness, which became him so well
at the play-house, _Jo._, says he, I’ll give thee thy welcome to Hell;
with that he carry’d me to a little blind coffee-house, in the middle of
a dirty alley, but certainly one of the worst furnish’d tenements I ever
beheld: there was nothing to be seen but a few broken pipes, two or
three founder’d chairs, and bare naked walls, with not so much as a
superannuated almanack, or tatter’d ballad to keep ’em in countenance;
so that I could not but fancy myself in some of love’s little
tabernacles about _Wildstreet_, or _Drury-Lane_. Come, Mr. _Haines_, and
what are you disposed to drink? What you please, Sir. Here, madam, give
the gentleman a glass of _Geneva_. As soon as I had whipp’d it down, my
friend _Nokes_ plucking me by the sleeve, and whispering me in the ear,
prithee _Jo._, who dost think that lady at the bar is? I consider’d her
very attentively, by the same token she was three times as ugly as my
lady _Frightall_, countess of ---- and three times as thick and bulky as
Mrs. _Pix_ the poetress, and very fairly told him, I knew her not. Why
then I shall surprize you. This is the famous _Semiramis_. The Devil she
is! answer’d I: What is this the celebrated and renowned queen of
_Babylon_, she that built those stupendious walls and pensile gardens,
of which antient historians tell us so many miracles; that victorious
_heroine_, who eclipsed the triumphs of her illustrious husband; that
added _Æthiopia_ to her empire; and was the wonder as well as the
ornament of her sex? Is it possible she should fall so low as to be
forced to sell _Geneva_, and such ungodly liquors for a subsistence?
’Tis e’en so, says Mr. _Nokes_, and this may serve as a lesson of
instruction to you, that when once death has laid his icy paws upon us,
all other distinctions of fortune and quality immediately vanish. These
words were no sooner out of his mouth, but in came a formal old
gentleman, and plucking a large wooden box from under his cloak, _Will
you have any fine snuff_, gentlemen, _here is the finest snuff in the
universe_, gentlemen; _a never failing remedy_, gentlemen, _against the
megrims and head-ach_. And who do you take this worthy person to be?
says Mr. _Nokes_, But that I am in this lower world, cry’d I, I durst
swear ’tis the very individual quaker that sells his herb-snuff at the
_Rainbow_ coffee-house. Damnably mistaken, says Mr. _Nokes_, before
_George_, no less a man than the great _Cyrus_, the first founder of the
_Persian_ monarchy. I was going to bless myself at this discovery, when
a jolly red-nos’d woman in a straw-hat popt into the room, and in a
shrill treble cry’d out, _Any buckles, combs or scissars_, gentlemen,
_and tooth-picks, bottle-screws or twizers, silver buttons or
tobacco-stoppers_, gentlemen; well now, my worthy friend, Mr. _Haines_,
who do you think this to be? The Lord knows, reply’d I, for here are
such an unaccountable choppings and changings among you that the Devil
can’t tell what to make of ’em. Why then, in short, this is the virtuous
_Thalestris_, Queen of the _Amazons_, the same numerical princess, that
beat the hoof so many hundred leagues to get _Alexander_ the Great to
administer his royal nipple to her. But _Jo._ since I find thee so
affected at these alterations that have happen’d to persons who lived so
many hundred years ago, I am resolv’d to shew thee some of a more modern
date, and particularly of such as either thou wast acquainted with in
the other world, or at lead hast often heard mention’d in company. So
calling for the other glass of _Geneva_, he left a tester at the bar,
and _Semiramis_, to shew her courtly breeding, dropp’d us abundance of
curtesies, and paid us as much respect at our coming out, as your
two-penny _French_ barbers in _Soho_ do to a gentleman that gives them a
brace of odd half-pence above the original contract in their sign.
[Illustration: _The Pall Mall of Brandipolis._
_Vol. II P. 7_
]
We walk’d thro’ half a dozen streets without meeting any thing worthy of
observation. At last my friend _Nokes_, pointed to a little edifice,
which exactly resembles Dr. _Burgess_’s conventicle in _Russel-Court_;
says he, your old acquaintance _Tony Lee_, who turn’d presbyterian
parson, upon his coming into these quarters, holds forth most notably
here every _Sunday_; _Jacob Hall_ and _Jevon_ are his clerks, and chant
it admirably. Mother _Stratford_, the duchess of _Mazarine_, my lord
_Warwick_, and Sir _Fleetwood_, are his constant hearers; and to
_Tony_’s everlasting honour be it spoken, he delivers his fire and
brimstone with so good a grace, splits his text so judiciously, turns up
the whites of his eyes so theologically, cuffs his cushion so
orthodoxly, and twirls his band-strings so primitively, that _Pluto_ has
lately made him one of his chaplains in ordinary. From this we crossed
another street, which one may properly enough call the _Bow-street_, or
_Pall-Mall_ of _Brandinopolis_. No sawcy tradesman or mechanick dares
presume to live here, but ’tis wholly inhabited by fine gaudy fluttering
sparks, and fine airy ladies; who in no respect are inferior to yours in
_Covent-Garden_. When the sky is serene, and not a breath of wind
stirring, you may see whole covies of them displaying their finery in
the street; but at other times you never see ’em our of a chair, for
fear of discomposing their commodes or periwigs. We had not gone twenty
paces, before we met three flaming beaux of the first magnitude, the
like of whom we never saw at the _Vourthoot_ at the _Hague_, the
_Tuilleries_ at _Paris_, or the _Mall_ in St. _James_’s-park. They were
all three in black (for you must know we are in deep mourning here for
the death of my lady _Proserpine_’s favourite monkey) but he in the
middle, tho’ he had neither face nor shape to qualify him for a gallant:
for he had a phyz as forbidden as beau _Whitaker_, and was as thick
about the waste, as the fat squab porter at the _Griffin_-tavern in
_Fuller’s-Rents_, yet he made a most magnificent figure: His periwig was
large enough to have loaded a camel, and he had, bestowed upon it at
least a bushel of powder, I warrant you. His sword-knot dangled upon the
ground, and his steenkirk that was most agreeably discolour’d with snuff
from top to bottom, reach’d down to his waste; he carry’d his hat under
his left-arm, walk’d with both his hands in the wastband of his
breeches, and his cane that hung negligently down in a string from his
right-arm, trail’d most harmoniously against the pebbles, while the
master of it, tripping it nicely upon his toes, was humming to himself,
_Oh, ye happy happy groves,_
_Witness of our tender loves._
Having given you this description of him, I need not trouble myself to
enlarge upon the dress of his two companions, who, tho’ they fell much
short of his inimitable original in point of garniture and dress, yet
they were singular enough to have drawn the eyes of men, women and
children after ’em in any part of _Europe_. As I observed this sight
with a great deal of admiration, Mr. _Nokes_ very gravely asked me, who
I took the middlemost person to be; upon my telling him I had never seen
him before, nor knew a syllable of him or his private history; why, says
Mr. _Nokes_, this is _Diogenes_ the famous cynic philosopher, and his
two companions are _George Fox_ and _James Naylor_ the quakers.
_Diogenes_, reply’d I to him, why he was one of the arrantest slovens in
all _Greece_, and a profess’d enemy to laundresses, for he never parted
with his shirt, ’till his shirt parted with him. No matter for that,
says Mr. _Nokes_, the case is alter’d now with him, for he has the
vanity and affectation of twenty Sir _Courtly Nice_’s blended together;
he constantly dispatches a courier to _Lisbon_ every month, to bring him
a cargo of _Limons_ to wash his hands with; he sends to _Montpelier_ for
_Hungary_-water; _Turin_ furnishes him with _Rosa Solis_; _Nismes_ with
_Eau de Conelle_, and _Paris_ with _Ratifia_ to settle his maw in the
morning. Nothing will go down with him but _Ortolans_, _Snipes_, and
_Woodcocks_; and _Matson_, that some years ago liv’d at the _Rummer_ in
_Queen-street_, is the administrator of his kitchen. This, said I to
him, is the most phantastick change I have seen since my passing the
_Styx_: for who the plague wou’d have believ’d that that antient quaker
_Diogenes_, and those modern cynicks, _Fox_ and _Naylor_, should
degenerate so much from their primitive institution, as to set up for
fops? When we came up to ’em, _Diogenes_ gave us a most gracious bow,
but those two everlasting complimenters, his friends, I was afraid
wou’d have murder’d me with their civilities; for which reason I
disingaged myself from ’em something abruptly, by the same token I
overheard _James Naylor_ call me _bougre insulare_ and _tramontane_, for
my ill manners.
When the coast was clear of ’em, says I to my _Nokes_, every thing is so
turned topsy-turvy here with you, that I can hardly resolve myself
whether I walk upon my head or my feet: right, Mr. _Haines_, says he,
but time is precious; so let’s mend our pace if you please, that we may
see all the curiosities of this renowned city before ’tis dark.
The next street we came into, we saw a tall thin-gutted mortal driving a
wheel-barrow of pears before him, and crying in a hoarse tone, _pears
twenty a penny_; looking him earnestly in the face, I presently knew him
to be beau _Heveiningham_, but I found he was shy, and so took no
further notice of him. Not ten doors from hence, says Mr. _Nokes_, lives
poor _Norton_, that shot himself. I ask’d him in what quality, he
answered me, as a sub-operator to a disperser of darkness, _anglicè_, a
journeyman to a tallow-chandler. I would willingly have made him a short
visit, but was intercepted in my design by a brace of fellows that were
link’d to their good behaviour, like a pair of _Spanish_ galley-slaves;
tho’ they agreed as little as _Jowler_ and _Ringwood_ coupled together,
for one of ’em lugg’d one away, and his brother the other. I soon knew
them to be _Dick Baldwin_, the whig-bookseller, and _Mason_ the
non-swearing parson, whom, as I was afterwards informed, judge _Minos_,
had order’d to be yoak’d thus, to be a mutual plague and punishment to
one another. Both of ’em made up to us as hard as they could drive.
_Well, Sir, says the_ Levite, _what comfortable news do you bring from
St._ Germains? _Our old friend_ Lewis le Grand _is well I hope. Damn_
Lewis le Grand, _and all his adherents, cries_ Dick Baldwin. _Pray Sir,
what racy touches of scandal have been publish’d of late_, by my worthy
friends, _Sam. Johnson_, Mr. _Tutchin_, and honest Mr. _Atwood_; and the
gallows that groan’d so long for _Robin Hog_ the messenger, when is it
like to lose its longing? Have no fresh batteries attack’d the court
lately from honest Mr. _Darby_’s in _Bartholomew-Close_? And prithee
what new piracies from the quakers at the _Pump_ in _Little-Britain_?
What new whales, devils, ghosts, murders; from _Wilkins_ in the
_Fryars_? But above all, dear Sir, of what kidney are the present
sheriffs; and particularly my lord-mayor, how stands he affected? Why
_Dick_, says I to him, fearing to be stunn’d with more interrogatories,
tho’ most of the folks I have seen here are changed either for the
better or the worse, yet I find thou art the true, primitive, busy,
pragmatical, prating, muttering _Dick Baldwin_ still, and will be so to
the end of the chapter. In the name of the three furies, what should
make thee trouble thyself about sheriffs and lord-mayor? But thou art of
the same foolish belief, I find, with thy brother coxcombs at _North_’s
coffee-house, who think all the fate of christendom depends upon the
choice of a lord-mayor; whereas to talk of things familiarly, and as we
ought to do, what is this two-legg’d animal ycleped a lord-mayor, but a
certain temporary machine of the city’s setting up, who on certain
appointed days is oblig’d to ride on horse-back to please the
_Cheapside_ wives, who must scuffle his way thro’ so many furlongs of
custard, who is only terrible to delinquent-bakers, oyster-women, and
scavengers; and has no other privilege above his brethren, as I know of,
but that of taking a comfortable nap in his gold chain at _Paul_’s or
_Salter’s-Hall_; to either of which places his conscience, that is, his
interest, carries him. Surly _Dick_ was going to say something in
defence of the city magistrate, but my brother _Nokes_ and I prevented
him, by calling to the next hackney coachman, whom, to my great
surprise, I found to be the famous Dr. _Busby_ of _Westminster_-school;
who now, instead of flogging boys, was content to act in an humbler
sphere, and exercise his lashing talent upon horses. We ordered him to
set us down at _Bedlam_, where my friend _Nokes_ assured me we should
find diversion enough, and the first person we met with in this
celebrated mansion, was the famous queen _Dido_ of _Carthage_, supported
by the ingenious Mrs. _Behn_ on the one side, and the learned
_Christiana_, queen of _Sweden_, on the other. _Gentlemen_, cry’d she,
_I conjure you, by that respect which is due to truth, and by that
complaisance which is owing to us of the fair sex, to believe none of
those idle lies that_ Virgil _hath told of me. That impudent versifyer
has given out, that I murder’d myself for the sake of his pious_
Trojan, _the hero of his romance; whereas I declare to you, gentlemen,
as I hope to be sav’d, that I never saw the face of that fugitive
scoundrel in my life, but dy’d in my bed with as much decency and
resignation as any woman in the parish: but what touches my honour most
of all, is that most horrid calumny of my being all alone with_ Æneas
_in the cave_. Upon this I humbly remonstrated to her majesty, that
altho’ _Virgil_ had taken the liberty to leave her and his pious
_Trojan_ in a grotto together, yet he no where insinuated that any thing
criminal had passed between ’em. How, says Mr. _Behn_, in a fury, was it
not scandal enough in all conscience, to say that a man and a woman were
in a dark blind cavern by themselves? What tho’ there was no such
convenience as a bed or a couch in the room; nay, not so much as a
broken-back’d chair, yet I desire you to tell me, sweet Mr. _Haines_,
what other business can a man and a woman have in the dark together,
but----. Ay, cries the queen of _Sweden_, what other business can a man
and a woman have in the dark, but, as the fellow says in the _Moor of
Venice_, to make the beast with two backs? not to pick straws I hope, or
to tell tales of a tub. Under favour, ladies, reply’d I, ’tis impossible
I should think, for a grave sober man, and a woman of discretion, to
pass a few hours alone, without carrying matters so far home as you
insinuate. What in the dark? cries queen _Dido_, that’s mine a ---- in a
band-box. Let peoples inclinations be never so modest and virtuous, yet
this cursed darkness puts the devil and all of wickedness into their
heads: the man will be pushing on his side, that’s certain; and as for
the woman, I’ll swear for her, that when no body can see her blush, she
will be consenting. In fine, tho’ the soul be never so well fortify’d to
hold out a siege, yet the body, as soon as love’s artillery begins to
play upon it, it will soon beat a parley, and make a separate treaty for
itself.
Thus her _Punick_ majesty ran on, and the Lord knows when her royal
clack would have done striking, if a female messenger had not come to
her in the nick of time, and whisper’d her in the ear, to go to the
famous _Lucretia_’s crying-out, who, it seems, was got with child upon a
hay-cock, by _Æsop_ the fabulist. As soon as queen _Dido_ and her two
prattling companions were gone out of the room, Mr. _Nokes_, says I, you
have without question seen _Æsop_ very often, therefore pray let me beg
the favour of you, to tell me whether he is such a deformed ill-favoured
wight, as the historians represent him; for you must know we have a
modern critick of singular humanity, near St. _James_’s, that has been
pleased, in some late dissertation upon _Phalaris_’s epistles, to
maintain that he was a well-shap’d, handsome gentleman; and for a proof
of this, insists much upon _Æsop_’s intriguing with his fellow-slave,
the beautiful _Rhodope_. No, no, replies Mr. _Nokes_, _Æsop_ is just
such a crumpled hump-shoulder’d dog, for all the world, as you see him
before _Ogilby_’s translation of his fables; and let the above-mentioned
grammarian, I think they call him, Dr. _Bentivolio_, say what he will to
the contrary, ’tis even so as I tell you. And now, we are upon the
chapter of Dr. _Bentivolio_; about a month ago I happen’d to make merry
over a bowl of punch with _Phalaris_ the _Sicilian_ tyrant, who swore by
all that was good and sacred, that he would trounce the unmannerly slave
for robbing him of those epistles, which have gone unquestion’d under
his name for so many ages: but the time is coming, said he, when I shall
make this impudent pedant cry _peccavi_ for the unworthy treatment he
has given me: I have my brazen-bull, heaven be prais’d, ready for him,
and as soon as he comes into these quarters, will shut him up in it, and
roast him with his own dull volumes, and those of his dearly beloved
friends the _Dutch_ commentators.
By this time we were got to the upper end of the room, when, says Mr.
_Nokes_ to me, I will shew you a most surprising sight. You must know
this place, like _Noah_’s ark, contains beasts of all sorts and sizes;
some have their brains turn’d by politicks, who, except some three or
four that are suffer’d to go abroad with a keeper, are lock’d up in a
large apartment up stairs. These puppies rave eternally about liberty
and property, and the _jura populi_, and are so damn’d mischievous, that
it is dangerous to venture near them. _England_ sends more of this sort
to _Bedlam_, than all the countries of _Europe_ besides. Others again
have their intellects fly-blown by love, by the same token that most of
the poor wretches that are in this doleful predicament come out of
_France_, _Spain_, _Italy_, and such hot climates. Now and then, indeed,
we have a silly apprentice or so, takes a leap from _London-Bridge_ into
the _Thames_, or decently hangs himself in a garret, in his mistress’s
garters, but these accidents happen but seldom; and besides, since
fornication has made so great a progress among us, love is observed not
to operate so powerfully in _England_ as it formerly did, when there was
no relief against him but matrimony. Some again have their _pia mater_
addled by their religion, but neither are the sots of this species so
numerous in _Britain_, or elsewhere, as they were in the days of yore;
for the priests of most religions have play’d their game so aukwardly,
that not one man in a thousand will trust them with shuffling of the
cards.
But of all the various sorts of mad-men that come hither, the rhimers or
versifyers far exceed the rest in number: most of these fellows in the
other world were mayors, or aldermen, or deputies of wards, that knew
nothing but the rising and falling of stocks, squeezing young heirs, and
cheating their customers: but now the tables are turn’d, for they eat
and drink, nay, sleep and dream in rhime, and have a distich to
discharge at you upon every occasion. With that he open’d the wicket of
the uppermost door, and bid me peep in. ’Tis impossible to describe to
you the surprize I was in, to see so many of my city acquaintance there,
whom I should sooner have suspected of burglary or sacrilege, than of
tacking a pair of rhimes together: but it seems this is a judgment upon
these wretches, for the aversion they have to the muses when they are
living. The walls were lined with verses from top to bottom, and happy
was the wretch that could get a bit of charcoal to express the happiness
of his fancy upon the poor plaister. The first man I saw was Sir _John
Peak_, formerly lord-mayor of _London_, who bluntly came up to the door,
and asked me what was rhime to _Crambo_? Immediately Sir _Thomas
Pilkington_ popp’d over his shoulder, and pray friend, says he, for I
perceive you are newly come from the other world, how go the affairs of
_Parnassus_? What new madrigals, epithilamiums, sonnets, epigrams, and
satires, have you brought with you? What pretty conceits had Mr.
_Settle_ in his last _London_ triumphs? What plays have taken of late?
Mrs. _Bracegirdle_, doth she live still unmarried? And pray, Sir, how
doth Mr. _Betterton_’s lungs hold out? But now I think on’t, I have a
delicious copy of verses to shew you, upon the divine _Melesinda_’s
frying of pancakes, only stay a minute, while I step yonder to fetch
’em: he had no sooner turn’d his back, but I pluck’d too the wicket, and
gave him the slip; for certainly of all the plagues in hell, or t’other
side of it, nothing comes up to that of a confounded repeater. Leaving
these versifying insects to themselves, we walked up a pair of stairs
into the upper room, one end of which was the quarter for distracted
lovers, as the other was for the lunatick republicans. I just cast my
eyes into _Cupid_’s _Bear-Garden_, and observed that the walls were all
adorned with mysterious hieroglyphicks of love, as hearts transfixed,
and abundance of odd-fashion’d battering rams, such as young lovers use
to trace upon the cieling of a coffee-house with the smoke of a candle.
Some half a score of ’em were making to the door, but having seen enough
of these impertinents in the other world, I had no great inclination to
suffer a new persecution from ’em in this. So my friend and I turn’d up
to the apartment where the republicans were lock’d up, who made such a
hurricane and noise, as if a legion of devils had been broke loose among
them. _Harrington_, I remember, was the most unruly of the whole pack.
Thanks to my friends in _London_, says he, I hear my _Oceana_ is lately
reprinted, and furbish’d with a new dedication to those judicious and
worthy gentlemen, my lord-mayor and court of aldermen, by Mr. _Toland_.
You need not value yourself so much upon that, says _Algernoon Sidney_,
for my works were published there long before yours. And so were mine,
cries _Milton_, at the expence of some worthy patriots, that were not
afraid to publish them under a monarchical government. But what think
you of my memoirs, cries _Ludlow_, for if you talk of histories, there’s
a history for you, which, for sincerity and truth, never saw its fellow
since the creation. Upon this the uproar began afresh, so thinking it
high time to withdraw, I jogg’d my friend _Nokes_ by the elbow, and as
we went down stairs told him, that _Pluto_ was certainly in the right
on’t, to lock up these hot-headed mutineers by themselves, allow them
neither pen, ink, fire, nor candle; for should he give them leave to
propagate their seditious doctrines, he would only find himself king of
_Erebus_, at the courtesy of his loving subjects.
Just as we were going out of this famous edifice; I have an odd piece of
news to tell you, says Mr. _Nokes_, which is, that altho’ we have men of
all countries, more or less here, yet there never was one _Irishman_ in
it. How comes that about, I beseech you? said I to him. Why, replies he,
madness always supposes a loss of reason; but the duce is in’t if a man
can lose that which he never possess’d in his life. Oh your humble
servant, answer’d I, ’tis well none of our swaggering Dear Joys in
_Covent-Garden_ hear you talk so, for if they did, ten to one but they
would cut your throat for this reflection upon the intellects of their
country, and send you to the Devil for the honour of St. _Patrick_.
When we came out into the open air again, and had taken half a dozen
turns in the neighbouring fields, Mr. _Nokes_, says I, ’tis my
misfortune to come in this place without a farthing of money in my
pocket, and _Alecto_ confound me, if I know what course to take for my
maintenance, therefore I would desire you to put me in a way. Have no
care for that, says Mr. _Nokes_, his infernal majesty is very kind and
obliging to us players, and because we act so many different parts in
the other world, as kings, princes, bishops, privy-counsellors, beaux,
cits, sailors, and the like, gives us leave to fellow what profession we
have most a fancy to. For my part, I keep a nicknackatory, or toy-shop,
as I formerly did over against the _Exchange_, and turn a sweet penny by
it, for our gallants here throw away their money after a furious rate.
Now _Jo._ I think thou can’st not do better than to set up for a
_High-German_ fortune-teller; thou knowest all the cant and roguery of
that practice to perfection, and besides, has the best phiz in the world
to carry on such an affair. As for money to furnish thee an house, and
set up a convenient equipage, to buy thee a pair of globes, a magick
looking-glass, and all other accoutrements of that nature, thou shalt
command as much as thou hast occasion for. I was going to thank my
friend for so courteous an offer, when who should pop upon us on the
sudden, but his _Polish_ majesty’s physician in ordinary, the late
famous Dr. _Conner_ of _Bowstreet_, but in so wretched a pickle, so
tatter’d a condition, that I could hardly know him. How comes this
about, noble doctor, said I to him, what is fortune unkind, and do the
planets frown upon merit? I remember you were going to set up your
coach, and marry the widow _Bently_ in _Russel-street_, just before your
last distemper hurry’d you out of the world. Is it possible the learned
author of _Evangelium Medici_ should want bread? or, doctor, did you
leave all your _Hibernian_ confidence behind you! I thought a true
_Irishman_ could have made his fortune in any part of the universe.
_Ille nihil, nec me quærentem vana moratur;_
_Sed graviter gemitus imo de pectore ducens._
Mr. _Haines_, says he, _Pluto_, to say no worse of him, is very
ungrateful to the gentlemen of our faculty; and were he not a crown’d
head, I would not stick to call him a _Poltroon_. I am sure no body of
men cultivate his interest with more industry and success, than we
physicians. What would his dominions be but a bare wilderness and
solitude, if we did not daily take care to stock them with fresh
colonies? This I can say for myself, that I did not let him lose one
patient that fell into my hands; nay, rather than he should want
customers, I practised upon myself. But after the received maxim of most
princes, I find he loves the treason, and hates the traytor; so that no
people are put to harder shifts in hell, than the sons of _Galen_. Would
you believe it, Mr. _Haines_, the immortal Dr. _Willis_ is content to be
a flayer of dead horses; the famous _Harvey_ is turn’d higgler, and you
may see him ride every morning to market upon a pannier of eggs;
_Mayern_ is glad to be pimp to noblemen’s _valets de chambre_; old
_Glisson_ sells vinegar upon a lean scraggy tit; _Moreton_ is return’d
to his occupation, and preaches in a little conventicle you can hardly
swing a cat round in; _Lower_ sells penny prayer-books all the week, and
curls an _Amen_ in a meeting-house on sundays; _Needham_, in conjunction
with Capt. _Dawson_, is bully to a _Bordello_; and the celebrated
_Sydenham_ empties close-stools. As for myself, I am sometimes a small
retainer to a billiard-table; and sometimes, when the matter on’t is
sick, earn a penny by a whimsy-board. I lie with a link-man upon a
flock-bed in a garret, and have not seen a clean shirt upon my back
since I came into this cursed country. By my troth, said I, I am sorry
to hear matters go so scurvily with you; but pluck up a good heart, for
when the times are at worst they must certainly mend. But, pray doctor,
before you go any farther, satisfy me what church you dy’d a member of,
for we had the devil and all to do about you when you were gone. The
parson of St. _Giles_’s stood out stifly that you dy’d a sound
Protestant, but all your countrymen swore thou didst troop off like a
good Catholick. Why really _Jo._ cry’d the doctor, to deal plainly with
you, I don’t know well what religion I dy’d in; but if I dy’d in any, as
physicians you know seldom do, it was, as I take it, that of the Church
of _England_. I remember, indeed, when I grew light-headed, and the bed,
room, and every thing began to turn round with me, that a
forster-brother of mine, an _Irish_ Priest, offer’d me the civility of
_Extreme Unction_, and I that knew I had a long journey to go, thought
it would not be amiss to have my boots well liquor’d before-hand, tho’
ofter all, for any good it did me, he might as well have rubb’d my
posteriors with a brick-bat. This is all I remember of the matter; but
what signifies it to the business we are talking of? In short, _Jo._ if
thou could’st put me in a way to live, I should be exceedingly beholden
to thee. Doctor, cry’d I, if you will come to me a week hence, something
may be done; for I intend to build me a stage in one of the largest
_Piazzas_ of this city, take me a fine house, and set up my old trade of
fortune-telling; and as I shall have occasion now and then for some
understrapper to draw teeth for me, or to be my toad-eater upon the
stage, if you will accept of so mean an employment, besides my old
cloaths, which will be something, I’ll give you meat, drink, washing,
and lodging, and four marks _per annum_.
I am sensible, gentlemen, that I have tried your patience with a long
tedious letter, but not knowing when I should find so convenient an
opportunity to send another, I resolved to give you a full account in
this, of all the memorable things that fell within the compass of my
observation, during my short residence in this country. At present,
thanks to my kind stars, I live very comfortably; I keep my brace of
geldings, and half a dozen servants; my house is as well furnish’d as
most in this populous city; and to tell you what prodigious number of
persons of all ages, sexes and conditions flock daily to me, to have
their fortunes told, ’twould hardly find belief with you. If the
celestial phenomena’s deceive me not, and there is any truth in the
conjunction of _Mercury_ and _Luna_, I shall in a short time rout all
the pretenders to _Astrology_, who combine to ruin my reputation and
practice, but without effect; for this opposition has rather increased
my friends at court than lessen’d them. I am promised to be _maître des
langues_, to the young prince of Acheron, (so we call the heir apparent
to these subterranean dominions) and _Proserpine’s camariera major_
assured me t’other morning, I should have the honour of teaching the
beautiful princess _Fuscamarilla_, his sister, to dance. Once more,
gentlemen, I beg your excuse for this prolix epistle, and hoping you
will order one of your fraternity to send me the news of your upper
world, I remain,
_Your most obliged,
and most obedient Servant_,
JO. HAINES.
Dec. 21.
1701.
_An Answer to Mr._ JOSEPH HAINES, High-German _Astrologer, at the
sign of the_ Urinal _and_ Cassiopea’s Chair, _in_ Brandinopolis,
_upon_ Phlegethon. _By Mr._ BROWN.
_Worthy Sir_,
We received your letter, dated _Dec. 21. 1701._ and read it yesterday in
a full assembly at _Will_’s. The whole company lik’d it exceedingly, and
return you their thanks for the ample and satisfactory account you have
given them of _Pluto_’s dominions, from which we have had little or no
news, however it has happened, since the famous _Don Quevedo_ had the
curiosity to travel thither.
Whereas you desire us, by way of exchange, to furnish you with some of
the most memorable transactions that have lately fallen out in this part
of the globe; we willingly comply with your proposal, and are proud of
any opportunity to shew Mr. _Haines_ how much we respect and value him.
_Imprimis_, _Will_’s coffee-house, Mr. _Haines_, is much in the same
condition, as when you left it; and as a worthy gentleman has lately
distributed them into their proper classes, we have four sorts of
persons that resort hither; first, Such as are beaux and no wits, and
these are easy to be known by their full periwigs and empty sculls;
secondly, Such as are wits and no beaux, and these, not to talk of their
out-sides, are distinguish’d by censuring the ill taste of the age, and
railing at one another; thirdly, Such as are neither wits nor beaux, I
mean your grave plodding politicians that come to us every night piping
hot from the parliament-house, and finish treaties that were never
thought of, and end wars before they are begun; and fourthly, Such as
are both wits and beaux, to whose persons, as well as merits, you can be
no stranger.
In the next place, the Playhouse stands exactly where it did. Mr. _Rich_
finds some trouble in managing his mutinous subjects, but ’tis no more
than what princes must expect to find in a mixt monarchy, as we take the
Playhouse to be. The actors jog on after the old merry rate, and the
women drink and intrigue. Mr. _Clinch_ of _Barnet_, with his pack of
dogs and organ, comes now and then to their relief; and your friend Mr.
_Jevon_ would hang himself, to see how much the famous Mr. _Harvey_
exceeds him in the ladder-dance.
We have had an inundation of plays lately, and one of them, by a great
miracle, made shift to hold out a full fortnight. The generality are
either troubled with convulsion-fits, and die the first day of the
representation, or by meer dint of acting, hold out to the third; which
is like a consumptive man’s living by cordials, or else die a violent
death, and are interr’d with the solemnity of catcalls. A merry
virtuoso, who makes one of the congregation _de propagando ingenio_,
designs to publish a weekly bill for the use of the two theatres, in
imitation of that published by the parish clerks, and faithfully to set
down what distemper every new play dies of.
If the author of a play strains hard for wit, and it drivels drop by
drop from him, he says it is troubled with a strangury. If it is vicious
in the design and performance, and dull throughout, he intends to give
it out in his bill, that it died by a knock in the cradle; if it
miscarries for want of fine scenes, and due acting, why then he says,
’tis starv’d at nurse; if it expires the first or second day he reckons
it among the abortive; and lastly, if it is damn’d for the feebleness of
its satire, he says it dies in breeding of teeth.
As our _wit_, generally speaking is debauch’d, so our wine, the parent
of it, is sophisticated all over the _town_; and as we never had more
_plays_ in the _two houses_, and more wine in city than at present, so
we were never encumber’d with worse of the two sorts than now. As for
the latter, we sell that for claret which has not a drop of the juice of
the grape in it, but is downright cyder. The corporation does not stop
short here, but our cyder, instead of apples, is made of turnips. Who
knows where the cheat will conclude? perhaps the next generation will
debauch our very turnips.
’Tis well, Mr. _Haines_, you dy’d when you did, for that unhappy place,
where you have so often exerted your talent, I mean _Smithfield_, has
fallen under the city magistrate’s displeasure; so that now St. _George_
and the _Dragon_, the _Trojan_ horse, and _Bateman_’s ghost, the
_Prodigal Son_, and _Jeptha_’s _Daughter_: In short, all the drolls of
glorious memory, are routed, defeated, and sent to grass, without any
hopes of a reprieve.
Next to _plays_, we have been over-run, in these times of publick
ferment and distraction, with certain wicked things, called _pamphlets_;
and some scriblers that shall be nameless, have writ _pro_ and _con_
upon the same subject, at least six times since last spring.
Both nations are at _bay_, and like two _bull-dogs_ snarl at one
another, yet have not thought fit, as yet, to come to actual blows. What
the event will be, we cannot prophesy at this distance, but every little
corporation in the kingdom has laid _Lewis le Grand_ upon his back, and
as good as call’d him perjur’d knave and villain. However, ’tis the
hardest case in the world if we miscarry; our _Grub-street_ pamphleteers
advise the shires and boroughs what sort of members to chuse; the shires
and boroughs advise their representatives what course to steer in
parliament; and the senators, no doubt on’t, will advise his majesty
what ministers to rely on, and how to behave himself in this present
conjuncture. Thus, advice, you see, like malt-tickets, circulates
plentifully about the kingdom; so that if we fail in our designs, after
all, the wicked can never say, ’twas for want of advice. We forgot to
tell you, Mr. _Haines_, that since you left this upper world, your life
has been written by a brother-player, who pretends he received all his
_memoirs_ from your own mouth, a little before you made a leap into the
dark; and really you are beholden to the fellow, for he makes you a
master of arts at the university, tho’ you never took a degree there.
That, and a thousand stories of other people he has father’d upon you,
and the truth on’t is, the adventures of thy life, if truly set down,
are so romantick, that few besides thy acquaintance would be able to
distinguish between the history and the fable. But let not this disturb
the serenity of your soul, Mr. _Haines_, for after this rate the lives
of all illustrious persons, whether ancient or modern, have been
written. This, Mr. _Haines_, is all we have to communicate to you at
present, so we conclude, with subscribing ourselves,
_Your most humble Servants_,
Sebastian Freeman,
_Registrarius, Nomine Societatis_.
_From_ Will_’s in_
Covent-Garden,
Jan. 10. 1701.
SCARRON _to_ LEWIS _le_ GRAND. _By Mr._ BROWN.
All the conversation of this lower world, at present, runs upon you; and
the devil a word we can hear in any of our coffee-houses, but what his
_Gallic_ Majesty is more or less concern’d in. ’Tis agreed on by all
our _Virtuosos_, that since the days of _Dioclesian_, no prince has
been so great a benefactor to hell as your self; and as much a matter of
eloquence as I was once thought to be at _Paris_, I want words to tell
you, how much you are commended here for so heroically trampling under
foot the treaty of _Reswick_, and opening a new scene of war in your
great _climateric_, at which age most of the princes before you were
such recreants, as to think of making up their scores with heaven, and
leaving their neighbours in peace. But you, they say, are above such
sordid precedents, and rather than _Pluto_ should want men to people his
dominions, are willing to spare him half a million of your own subjects,
and that at a juncture too, when you are not overstock’d with them.
This has gain’d you an universal applause in these regions; the three
_Furies_ sing your praises in every street; _Bellona_ swears there’s
never a prince in _Christendom_ worth hanging besides your self; and
_Charon_ bustles for you in all companies: he desir’d me, about a week
ago, to present his most humble respects to you; adding, that if it had
not been for your majesty, he, with his wife and children, must long ago
been quarter’d upon the parish; for which reason he duly drinks your
health every morning in a cup of cold _Styx_ next his conscience.
Indeed I have a double title to write to you, in the first place, as one
of your dutiful, tho’ unworthy, subjects, who formerly tasted of your
liberality; and secondly, as you have done me the honour to take away my
late wife, not only into your private embraces, but private councils.
Poor soul! I little thought she would fall to your majesty’s share when
I took my last farwel of her, or that a prince that had his choice of so
many thousands, would accept of my sorry leavings. And therefore, I must
confess, I am apt to be a little vain, as often as I reflect, that the
greatest monarch in the universe and I are brother-stallions, and that
the eldest son of the church, and the little _Scarron_ have fish’d in
the same hole. Some sawcy fellows have had the impudence to tell me to
my face, that Madam _Maintenon_ (for so, out of respect to your majesty,
I must call her) is your lawful wife, and that you were clandestinely
marry’d to her. I took them up roundly, as they deserv’d, and told them,
I was sure it was a damn’d lie; for, said I to them, if my master was
marry’d to her, as you pretend, she had broke his heart long ago, as
well as she did mine; from whence I positively concluded, that she might
be your mistress, but was none of your wife.
Last week, as I was sitting with some of my acquaintance in a
publick-house, after a great deal of impertinent chat about the affairs
of the _Milanese_, and the intended siege of _Mantua_, the whole company
fell a talking of your majesty, and what glorious exploits you had
perform’d in your time. Why, gentlemen, says an ill-look’d rascal, who
prov’d to be _Herostratus_, for _Pluto_’s sake let not the grand monarch
run away with all your praises. I have done something memorable in my
time too; ’twas I, who out of the _Gaiete de Cœur_, and to perpetuate my
name, fir’d the famous temple of the _Ephesian Diana_, and in two hours
consumed that magnificent structure which was two hundred years a
building: therefore, gentlemen, lavish not away all your praises, I
beseech you, upon one man, but allow others their share. Why, thou
diminutive inconsiderable wretch said I, in a great passion to him, thou
worthless idle _logger head_, thou _pigmy_ in sin, thou _Tom Thumb_ in
iniquity, how dares such a puny insect as thou art, have the impudence
to enter the lists with _Lewis le Grand_? thou valuest thy self upon
firing a church, but how? when the mistress of the house, who was a
midwife by profession, was gone out to assist _Olympias_, and deliver’d
her of _Alexander_ the Great. ’Tis plain, thou hadst not the courage to
do it when the goddess was present, and upon the spot; but what is this
to what my royal master can boast of, that had destroyed a hundred and a
hundred such foolish fabricks in his time, and bravely ordered them to
be bombarded, when he knew the very God that made and redeemed him had
taken up his _Quarters_ in ’em. Therefore turn out of the room, like a
paltry insignificant villain as thou art, or I’ll pick thy carcass for
thee.
He had no sooner made his _exit_, but cries an odd sort of a spark, with
his hat button’d up before, like a country scraper, under favour, Sir,
what do you think of me? Why, who are you? reply’d I to him, Who am I,
answer’d he, Why _Nero_, the sixth emperor of _Rome_, that murder’d
my---- Come, said I to him, to stop your prating, I know your history as
well as yourself, that murder’d your mother, kick’d your wife down
stairs, dispatch’d two Apostles out of the world, begun the first
persecution against the christians, and, lastly, put your master
_Seneca_ to death. As for the murder of your mother, I confess it shew’d
you had some taste of wickedness, and may pass for a tolerable piece of
gallantry; but prithee, what a mighty matter was it to send your wife
packing with a good kick in the guts, when once she grew nauseous and
sawcy; ’tis no more than what a thousand tinkers and foot-soldiers have
done before you: or to put the penal laws in execution against a brace
of hot-headed bigots, and their besotted followers, that must needs come
and preach up a new religion at _Rome_: or, in fine, to take away a
haughty, ungrateful pedant’s life, who conspir’d to take away your’s;
altho’ I know those worthy gentlemen, the school-masters, make a horrid
rout about it in their nonsensical declamations? Whereas his most
_Christian Majesty_, whose advocate I am resolved to be against all
opposers whatever, has bravely and generously starv’d a million of poor
_Hugonots_ at home, and sent t’other million of them a grasing into
foreign countries, contrary to solemn edicts, and repeated promises, for
no other provocation, that I know of, but because they were such
coxcombs, as to place him upon the throne. In short, friend _Nero_, thou
may’st pass for a rogue of the third or fourth class; but be advised by
a stranger, and never shew thyself such a fool as to dispute the
pre-eminence with _Lewis le Grand_, who has murder’d more men in his
reign, let me tell thee, than thou hast murder’d tunes, for all thou art
the vilest thrummer upon cat-gut the sun ever beheld. However, to give
the Devil his due, I will say it before thy face, and behind thy back,
that if thou had’st reign’d as many years as my gracious master has
done, and had’st had, instead of _Tigellinus_, a _Jesuit_ or two to have
govern’d thy conscience, thou mightest, in all probability, have made a
much more magnificent figure, and been inferior to none but the mighty
monarch I have been talking of.
Having put my _Roman_ emperor to silence, I look’d about me, and saw a
pack of grammarians (for so I guessed them to be by their impertinence
and noise) disputing it very fiercely at the next table; the matter in
debate was, which was the most heroical age; and one of them, who
valu’d himself very much upon his reading, maintain’d, that the heroical
age, properly so call’d, began with the _Theban_, and ended with the
_Trojan_ war, in which compass of time, that glorious constellation of
heroes, _Hercules_, _Jason_, _Theseus_, _Tidæus_, with _Agamemnon_,
_Ajax_, _Achilles_, _Hector_, _Troilus_, and _Diomedes_ flourished: men
that had all signaliz’d themselves by their personal gallantry, and
valour. His next neighbour argued very fiercely for the age wherein
_Alexander_ founded the _Grecian_ monarchy, and saw so many noble
generals and commanders about him. The third was as obstreperous for
that of _Julius Cæsar_, and manag’d his argument with so much heat, that
I expected every minute when these puppies wou’d have gone to
loggerheads in good earnest. To put an end to your controversy,
gentlemen, says I to them, you may talk till your lungs are founder’d,
but this I positively assert, that the present age we live in is the
most heroical age, and that my master, _Lewis le Grand_ is the greatest
hero of it. Hark you me, Sir, how do you make that appear, cry’d the
whole pack of them, opening upon me all at once: by your leave,
gentlemen, answer’d I, two to one is odds at foot-ball; but having a
hero’s cause to defend, I find myself possess’d with a hero’s vigour and
resolution, and don’t doubt but I shall bring you over to my party. That
age therefore is the most heroical which is the boldest and bravest; the
antients, I grant you, whor’d and got drunk, and cut throats as well as
we do; but, gentlemen, they did not sin upon the same foot as we, nor
had so many wicked discouragements to deter them; we whore when we know
’tis ten to one but we get a clap for our pains; whereas our
fore-fathers, before the siege of _Naples_, had no such blessing to
apprehend; we drink and murther one another in cold blood, at the same
time we believe that we must be rewarded with damnation; but your old
hero’s had no notion at all, or at least an imperfect one of a future
state: so ’tis a plain case, you see, that the heroism lies on our side.
To apply this then to my royal master; he has fill’d all Christendom
with blood and confusion; he has broke thro’ the most solemn treaties
sworn at the altar; he has stray’d and undone infinite numbers of poor
wretches; and all this for his own glory and ambition, when he’s assured
that hell gapes every moment for him: now tell me, whether your
_Jasons_, your _Agamemnons_, or _Alexanders_, durst have ventur’d so
heroically; or whether your pitiful emperors of _Germany_, your
mechanick kings of _England_ and _Sweden_, or your lousy States of
_Holland_, have courage enough to write after so illustrous a copy.
Thus, Sir, you may see with what zeal I appear in your majesty’s behalf,
and that I omit no opportunity of magnifying your great exploits to the
utmost of my poor abilities. At the same time I must freely own to you,
that I have met with some rough-hewn sawcy rascals, that have stopp’d me
in my full career, when I have been expatiating upon your praises, and
have so dumbfounded me with their villainous objections, that I could
not tell how to reply to them.
Some few days ago it was my fortune to affirm, in a full assembly, that
since the days of _Charlemagne_, _France_ was never bless’d with so
renown’d, so victorious, and so puissant a prince as your majesty. You
lame, gouty coxcomb, says a sawcy butter-box of a _Dutchman_ to me,
don’t give yourself these airs in our company; _Lewis_, the greatest
prince that _France_ ever had! Why, I tell thee, he has no more title to
that crown, than I have to the _Great Mogul_’s; and _Lewis_ the
thirteenth was no more his father than the Pope of _Rome_ is thine. I
bless’d myself to hear the fellow deliver this with so serious a mien,
when a countryman of his taking up the cudgels; ’Tis true, says he, your
mighty monarch has no right to the throne he possesses; the late king
had no hand in the begetting of him, but a lusty proper young fellow,
one _le Grand_ by name, and an Apothecary by profession, was employ’d by
cardinal _Mazarine_, who had prepar’d the queen’s conscience for the
taking of such a dose, to strike an heir for _France_ out of her
majesty’s body; by the same token that this scarlet agent of hell, got
him fairly poison’d as soon as he had done the work, for fear of telling
tales. If you ever read _Virgil_’s life written by _Donatus_, cries a
third to me, you’ll find that _Augustus_ having rewarded that famous
poet for some little services done him, with a parcel of loaves, had the
curiosity once to enquire of him who he thought was his father? to
which question of the emperor, _Virgil_ fairly answer’d, that he
believ’d him to be a Baker’s son, because he still paid him in a Baker’s
manufacture, _viz._ bread. And thus, were there no other proofs to
confirm it, yet any one would swear that _Lewis le Grand_ is an
Apothecary’s son, because he has acted all his life-time the part of an
Apothecary.
_Imprimis_, He has given so many strong purges to his own kingdom, that
he has empty’d it of half its people and money. _Item_, He apply’d
costives to _Genoa_ and _Brussels_, when he bombarded both those cities.
_Item_, He gave a damn’d clyster to the _Hollanders_ with a witness,
when he fell upon the rear of their provinces, in the year 72. _Item_,
He lull’d king _Charles_ the second asleep with female opiates. _Item_,
He forced Pope _Innocent_ the eleventh, to swallow the unpalatable
draught of the _Franchises_. _Item_, He administrated a restorative
cordial to _Mahumetanisme_, when he enter’d into an alliance with the
_Grand Turk_ against the emperor. _Item_, He would have bubbled the
prince of _Orange_ with the gilded pill of sovereignty, but his little
cousin was wiser than to take it. And lastly, If he had restor’d king
_James_ to his crown again, he would have brought the people of
_England_ a most conscientious Apothecary’s bill for his waiting and
attending. In short, shake this mighty monarch in a bag, turn him this
way, and that way, and t’other way, _sursum, deorsum, quaquaversum_,
I’ll engage you’ll find him nothing but a meer Apothecary; and I hope
the emperor and king of _England_ will play the Apothecary too in their
turn, and make him vomit up all those provinces and kingdoms he has so
unrighteously usurp’d. Prince _Eugene_ of _Savoy_ has work’d him pretty
well this last summer, and ’tis an infallible prognostic, that he’s
reduced to the last extremities, when his spiritual physicians apply
pigeons to the soles of his feet; I mean prayers and masses, and advise
him to reconcile himself to that Heaven he has so often affronted with
his most execrable perjuries.
’Tis impossible for me to tell your majesty, what a surprize I was in to
hear this graceless _Netherlander_ blaspheme your glorious name after
this insufferable rate. But to see how one persecution treads upon the
heels of another! I was hardly recover’d out of my astonishment, when a
son of a whore of a _German_, advancing towards me, was pleas’d to
explain himself as follows:
You keep a pother and noise here about your mighty monarch, says he to
me, but what has this mighty monarch, and be damn’d to you, done to
merit any body’s good word? I say, what one generous noble exploit has
he been guilty of in his whole reign, as long as it is, to deserve so
much incense and flattery, so many statues and triumphal arches, which a
pack of mercenary, nauseous, fulsome slaves have bestow’d upon him? For
my part, continues he, when I first heard his historians and poets, his
priests and courtiers, talk such wonderful things of him, I fancy’d that
another _Cyrus_ or _Alexander_ had appeared upon the stage; but when I
observed him more narrowly, and by a truer light, I found this immortal
man, as his inscriptions vainly stile him, to be a little, tricking,
pilfering _Fripon_, that watch’d the critical minute of stealing towns,
as nicely as your rogues of an inferior sphere do that of nimming
cloaks; and tho’ he had the fairest opportunity of erecting a new
western monarchy that ever any prince cou’d boast of, since the
declension of the _Roman_ empire; yet to his eternal disgrace be it
said, no man could have made a worse use of all those wonderful
advantages, that fortune, and the stupid security of his neighbours
conspir’d to put into his hands. To convince you of the truth of this,
let us only consider what posture the affairs of _France_ were in at his
accession to that crown, and several years after, as likewise how all
the neighbouring princes and states about him stood affected: to begin
then with the former, he found himself master of the best disciplin’d
troops in the universe, commanded by the most experienced generals that
any one age had produc’d, and spirited by a long train of victories,
over a careless, desponding, lazy enemy. All the great men of his
kingdom so depressed and humbled by the fortunate artifices of
_Richlieu_ and _Mazarine_, that they were not capable of giving him any
uneasiness at home, the sole power of raising money entirely in his own
hands, and his parliaments so far from giving a check to his daily
encroachments upon their liberties, that they were made the most
effectual instruments of his tyranny: In short, his clergy as much
devoted, and the whole body of his people as subservient to him as a
prince cou’d wish. As far his neighbours, he who was best able of any to
put a stop to his growing greatness, I mean the king of _England_,
either favour’d his designs clandestinely, or was so enervated by his
pleasure, that provided he cou’d enjoy an inglorious effeminacy at home,
he seem’d not to lay much to heart what became of the rest of
Christendom.
The emperor was composing anthems for his chapel at _Vienna_, when he
shou’d have appeared at the head of his troops on the _Rhine_. The
princes of _Germany_ were either divided from the common interest by the
underhand management of _France_, or not at all concerned at the
impending storm that threatned them. The _Hollanders_ within an ace of
losing their liberty by the preposterous care they took to secure it; I
mean, by diverting that family of all power in their government, which,
as it had formerly erected their republick, so now was the only one that
cou’d help to protect it.
The little states and principalities of _Italy_, looking on at a
distance, and not daring to declare themselves in so critical a
conjuncture, when the two keys of their country, _Pignerol_ and _Casal_
hung at the girdle of _France_. In short, the dispeopl’d monarchy of
_Spain_, governed by a soft unactive prince, equally unfit for the
cabinet and the field; his counsellors, who manag’d all under him,
taking no care to lay up magazines, and put their towns in a posture of
defence, but wholly relying as for that, upon their neighbours; like
some inconsiderate spend-thrift thrown into a jail by his creditors,
that smoakes and drinks, and talks merrily all the while, but never
advances one step to make his circumstances easy to him, leaving the
burthen of that affair to his friends and relations, whom perhaps he
never obliged so far in his prosperity, as to deserve it from their
hands.
Here now, says he, was the fairest opportunity that ever presented
itself for a prince of gallantry and resolution, for a _Tamerlane_ and a
_Scanderbeg_, to have done something eminently signal in his generation;
and if in the last century, a little king of _Sweden_, with a handful
of men, cou’d force his way from the _Baltick_ to the _Rhine_, and fill
all _Germany_ with terror and consternation, what might we not have
expected from a powerful king of _France_, in the flower of his youth,
and at the head of two hundred thousand effective men, especially when
there was no visible power to oppose him? But this wonderful monarch of
yours, instead of carrying his arms beyond the _Danube_, and performing
any one action worthy for his historians to record in the annals of his
reign, has humbly contented himself, now and then, in the beginning of
the year, when he knew his neighbours were unprepared for such a visit,
to invest some little market-town in _Flanders_, with his invincible
troops; and when a parcel of silly implicit fools had done the business
for him; then, forsooth, he must appear at the head of his court harlots
and minstrels, and make a magnificent entry thro’ the breach: And after
this ridiculous piece of pageantry is over, return back again to
_Versailles_, with the fame equipage, order’d new medals, operas, and
sonnets to be made upon the occasion; and what ought by no means to be
omitted, our most trusty and well-beloved counsellor and cousin, the
archbishop of _Paris_, must immediately have a letter sent him, to
repair forthwith, at the head of his ecclesiastick myrmidons, to _Nôtre
Dame_, and there to thank God for the success of an infamous robbery,
which an honest moral pagan would have blush’d at. So that when the next
fit of his _fistula in ano_ shall send this immortal town-stealer, this
divine village-lifter, this heroic pilferer of poor hamlets and their
dependancies, down to these subterranean dominions, don’t imagine that
he’ll be allowed to keep company with the _Pharamonds_ and
_Charlemagnes_ of _France_, the _Edwards_ and _Henries_ of _England_,
the _Williams_ of the _Nassovian_ family, or the _Alexanders_ and
_Cæsars_ of _Greece_ and _Rome_. No, shou’d he have the impudence to
shew his head among that illustrious assembly, they wou’d soon order
their footmen to drub him into better manners: Neither, cries a surly
_Englishman_, clapping his sides, and interrupting him, must he expect
the favour to appear even among our holyday heroes, and custard stormers
of _Cheapside_, those merry burlesques of the art military in
_Finsbury-fields_, who, poor creatures! never meant the destruction of
any mortal thing, but transitory roast-beaf and capon: no, friend, says
he, _Lewis le Grand_ must expect to take up his habitation in the most
infamous quarter of _Hell_, among a parcel of house-breakers and
shop-lifters, rogues burnt in the cheek for petty-larceny and burglary,
brethren of the moon, gentlemen of the horn-thumb, pillagers of the
hedges and henroosts, conveyers of silver spoons, and camblet cloaks,
and such like enterprising heroes, whose famous actions are faithfully
register’d in our sessions-papers and dying-speeches, transmitted to
posterity by the Ordinary of _Newgate_; a much more impartial historian
than your _Pelissons_ and _Boileaus_. However, as I was inform’d last
week by an understrapper at court; _Pluto_, in consideration of the
singular services your royal master has done him, will allow him a brace
of fiddlers to scrape and sing to him wherever he goes, since he takes
such a delight to hear his own praises.
I must confess, says another leering rogue, a countryman of his, that
since the grand monarch we have been speaking of, who has all along done
more by his bribing and tricking, than by the conduct of his generals,
or the bravery of his troops, who has plaid at fast and loose with his
neighbours ever since he came to the crown, who has surprised abundance
of towns in his time, and at the next treaty been forced to spue up
those very places he ordered _Te Deum_ to be sung for a few months
before. I must confess, says he, that since in conjunction with a damn’d
mercenary priest, he has forg’d a will for his brother-in-law of
_Spain_, and plac’d his grandson upon that throne, I should think the
rest of Christendom in a very bad condition indeed, if he should be
suffered to go on quietly with his show a few years more: Then for all I
know, he might bid fair to set up a new empire in the west, which he has
been aiming at so long: But if the last advice from the other world
don’t deceive us: If the parliament of _England_ goes on as unanimously
as they have begun, to support their prince in so pious and necessary a
war; in short, if the emperor, the _Dutch_, and the other allies, act
with that vigour and resolution as it becomes them upon this pressing
occasion, I make no question to see this mighty hero plunder’d like the
jay in the fable, of all the fine plumes he has borrow’d, and reduc’d to
so low an ebb, that he shall not find it in his power, tho’ he has never
so much in his will, to disturb the peace of the christian world any
more. And this, continues he, is as favourable an opportunity as we
could desire, to strip him of all his usurpations; for heaven be
praised, _Spain_ at present is a burthen to him, and by grasping at too
much, he’s in a fair way to lose every farthing. Besides, this late
forgery of the will has pluck’d off his old mask, and shews that ’tis an
universal monarchy he intends, and not the repose of _Europe_, which has
been so fortunate a sham to him in all his other treaties; so that the
devil’s in the allies now, if they don’t see thro’ those thin pretences
he so often bubbled them with formerly; or lay down their arms, till
they have made this _French_ bustard, who is all feathers, and no
substance, as bare and naked as a skeleton; and effectually spoil his
new trade of making wills for other people. And this they may easily
bring about, continues he, if they lay hold on the present opportunity,
for as I observed to you before, he has taken more business upon his
hands than he’ll ever be able to manage, and by grasping at too much, is
in the direct road to lose all. For my part, I never think of him, but
he puts me in mind of a silly foolish fellow I knew once in _London_,
who was a common knife-grinder about the streets, and having in this
humble occupation gathered a few straggling pence, must needs take a
great house in _Fleetstreet_, and set up for a sword-cutler; but before
quarter-day came, finding the rent too bulky for him, he very fairly
rubb’d off with all his effects, and left his landlord the key under the
door. Without pretending to the spirit of _Nostradamus_, or _Lilly_,
this I foresee, will be the fate of _Lewis le Grand_; therefore when you
write next to your glorious monarch, pray give my respects to him, and
bid him remember the sad destiny of the poor knife-grinder of _London_.
Thus you see, Sir, how I am daily plagu’d and harrass’d by a parcel of
brawny impudent rascals, and all for espousing your quarrel, and crying
up the justice of your arms. For _Pluto_’s sake let me conjure your
majesty to lay your commands upon _Boileau_, _Racine_, or any of your
panegyrists, to instruct me how I may stop the mouths of these
impertinent babblers for the future, who make Hell ten times more
insupportable than otherwise it would be, and threaten to toss me in a
blanket the next time I come unprovided for your defence into their
company. In the mean time, humbly desiring your majesty to present my
love to the _quondam_ wife of my bosom, I mean the virtuous madam
_Maintenon_, who, in conjunction with your most christian majesty, now
governs all _France_; and put her in mind of sending me a dozen of new
shirts by the next pacquet, I remain,
_Your Majesty’s
most obedient, and most obliged
Subject and Servant_,
SCARRON.
HANNIBAL _to the Victorious Prince_ EUGENE _of_ SAVOY. _By Mr._ BROWN.
’Twas with infinite satisfaction that I receiv’d the news of the happy
success of your arms in _Italy_. My worthy friend _Scipio_, (for so I
may justly call him, since we have dropp’d our old animosities, and now
live amicably together) is eternally talking of your conduct and
bravery; nay, _Alexander the Great_, who can hardly bear any competitor
in the point of glory, has freely confessed, that your gallantry in
passing the _Po_ and _Adige_, in the face of so powerful an enemy, falls
not short of what he himself formerly shew’d upon the banks of the
_Granicus_. For my part, I have a thousand obligations to you. My march
over the _Alpes_, upon which I may deservedly value myself, was look’d
upon here to be fabulous, till your late expedition over those rugged
mountains confirm’d the belief of it. Thus neither hills nor rivers can
stop the progress of your victories, and ’tis you who have found out the
lucky secret, how to baffle the circumspect gravity of the _Spaniards_,
and repress the furious impetuosity of the _French_. His _Gallic_
majesty, who minds keeping his word as little, as that mercenary
republick of tradesmen whom it was my misfortune to serve, will find to
his cost, that all the laurels he has been so long, a plundering, will
at last fall to your excellency’s share; and that he has been labouring
forty years together to no other purpose, than to enrich you with the
spoils of his former triumphs. Go on, therefore, in the glorious track
as you have begun, and be assured, that the good wishes of all the great
and illustrious persons now resident in this lower world attend you in
all your enterprizes. As nothing can be a greater pleasure to virtuous
men, than to see villains rewarded according to their deserts; so true
heroes never rejoice more than when they see a sham-conqueror, and vain
glorious bully, such as _Lewis_ XIV. plunder’d of all his unjust
acquisitions, and reduced to his primitive state of nothing. Were there
a free communication between our territories and yours, _Cyrus_,
_Miltiades_, _Cæsar_, and a thousand other generals, would be proud to
offer you their service the next campaign; but ’tis your happiness that
you want not their assistance; your own personal bravery, join’d to that
of your troops, and the justice of your cause, being sufficient to carry
you thro’ all your undertakings.
_Farewel._
PINDAR _of_ Thebes _to_ TOM. DURFEY. _By Mr._ BROWN.
However it happen’d so, I can’t tell, but I could never get a sight of
thy famous _Pindaric_ upon the late queen _Mary_, ’till about a month
ago. Most of the company would needs have me declare open war against
thee that very minute, for prophaning my name with such execrable
doggrel. _Stensichorus_ rail’d at thee worse than the man of the
_Horseshoe-Tavern_ in _Drury-lane_; _Alcæus_, I believe, will hardly be
his own man again this fortnight, so much concerned he is to find thee
crowding thy self upon the _Lyric_ poets; nay, _Sappho_ the patient,
laid about her like a fury, and call’d thee a thousand pimping
stuttering ballad-fingers. As for me, far from taking any thing amiss at
my hands, I am mightily pleased with the honour thou hast done me, and
besides, must own thou hast been the cheapest, kindest physician to me I
ever met with; for whenever my circumstances sit uneasy upon me, (and
for thy comfort _Tom_, we poets have our plagues in this world, as well
as we had in your’s) when my landlord persecutes me for rent, my
sempstress for my linnen, my taylor for cloaths, or my vintner for a
long pagan score behind the bar, I immediately read but half a dozen
lines of thy admirable ode, and sleep as heartily as the monks in
_Rabelais_, after singing a verse or two of the seven penitential
psalms. All I am afraid of, is, that when the virtues of it are known,
some body or other will be perpetually borrowing it of me, either to
help him to a nap, or cure him of the spleen, for I find ’tis an
excellent specifick for both; therefore I must desire thee to order
trusty _Sam._ to send me as many of them as have escap’d the
Pastry-cook, and I will remit him his money by the next opportunity. If
_Augustus Cæsar_ thought a _Roman_ gentleman’s pillow worth the buying,
who slept soundly every night amidst all his debts, can a man blame me
for bestowing a few transitory pence upon thy poem, which is the best
opiate in the universe? In short, friend _Tom_, I love and admire thee
for the freedom thou hast taken with me; and this I will say in
commendation, that thou hast in this respect done more than even
_Alexander_ the Great durst do. That mighty conqueror, upon the taking
of _Thebes_, spared all of my family; nay, the very house I lived in:
but thou, who hast a genius superior to him, hast not spared me, even in
what I value most, my verification and good name, for which _Apollo_ in
due time reward thee.
_Farewel._
_King_ JAMES II. _to_ LEWIS XVI. _By Mr._ BOYER.
_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin_,
Tho’ I have travers’d the vast abyss that lies betwixt us; and am now at
some hundred millions of leagues distance from you, yet do I still
remember the promise I made you before my departure, to send you an
account of my journey hither. Know then, that all the stories you hear
of the mansions of the dead, are flim-flams, invented by the crafty, to
terrify and manage the weak. Here’s no such thing as _Hell_ or
_Purgatory_; no _Lake of fire and brimstone_; no _cleven-footed
devils_; no _land of darkness_. This place is wonderfully well lighted
by a never decaying effulgence, which flows from the Almighty; and the
pleasures we dead enjoy, and the torments we endure, consist in a full
and clear view of our past actions, whether good or bad; and in being in
such or such company as is allotted us. For my part, I am continually
tormented with the thoughts of having lost three goodly kingdoms by my
infatuation and bigotry; and to aggravate my pain, I am quarter’d with
my royal father _Charles_ I. my honest well meaning brother _Charles_
II. and the subtle _Machiavel_; the first reproaches me ever and anon,
with my not having made better use of his dreadful examples; the second,
with having despis’d his wholsome advices; and the third, with having
misapply’d his maxims, thro’ the wrong suggestions of my father
confessor. Oh! that I had as little religion as your self, or as
_S_---- _M_----, _R_---- _H_----, and some others, of my ministers, and
my predecessors; then might I have reign’d with honour, and in plenty
over a nation, which is ever loyal and faithful to a prince who is
tender of their laws and liberties; and peacefully resign’d my crown my
lawfully begotten son; whereas thro’ the delusions of priest-craft, and
the fond insinuations of a bigotted wife, I endeavoured to establish the
superstitions of _Popery_, and the fatal maxims of a despotick,
dispensing power, upon the ruins of the _Protestant Religion_, and of
the fundamental laws of a free people, which at last concluded with my
abdication and exile. I am sorry you have deviated from your wonted
custom of breaking your word, and that you have punctually observ’d the
promise you made me at my dying bed, of acknowledging my dear son as
king of _Great-Britain_; for I fear my _quondam_ subjects, who love to
contradict you in every thing, will from thence take occasion to abjure
him for ever; whereas had you disowned him, they would perhaps have
acknowledged him in mere spite. Cardinal _Richlieu_, who visits me
often, professes still a great deal of zeal and affection for your
government, but is extremely concern’d at the wrong measures you take to
arrive at universal monarchy. He has desir’d me to advise you to keep
the old method he chalk’d out for you, which is, to trust more to your
gold than to your arms. I cannot but think he is in the right on’t,
considering the wonderful success the first has lately had with the
archbishop of _Cologn_, and some other of the _German_ and _Italian_
princes, and the small progress your armies have made in the _Milanese_.
But the wholesomeness of his advice is yet better justify’d by your
dealings with the _English_, whom you know, you have always found more
easily bribed than bullied. Therefore, as you tender the grandeur of
your monarchy, and the interest of my dear son, instead of raising new
forces, and fitting out fleets, be sure to send a cart-load of your
new-coin’d _Lewis d’ors_ into _England_, in order to divide the nation,
and set the _Whigs_ and _Tories_ together by the ears. But take care you
trust your money in the hands of a person that knows how to distribute
it to more advantage than either count _T----d_ or _P----n_, who, as I
am told, have lavish’d away your favours all at once upon insatiable
cormorants, and extravagant gamesters and spendthrifts. ’Tis true, by
their assistance, and the unwearied diligence of my loyal _Jacobites_,
you have made a shift to get the old ministry discarded, and to retard
the grand alliance; but let me tell you, unless you see them afresh,
they will certainly leave you in the lurch at the next sessions; for
ingratitude and corruption do always go together. Therefore to keep
these mercenary rogues to their behaviour, and in perpetual dependance,
you must feed them with small portions, as weekly, or monthly allowance.
Above all, bid your agents take heed how they deal with a certain
indefatigable writer, who, as long as your gold has lasted, has been
very useful to our cause, and boldly defeated the dangerous counsels of
the _Whigs_, your implacable enemies; but who, upon the first
withdrawing of your bounty, will infallibly turn cat in pan, and write
for the house of _Austria_.
I could give you more instructions in relation to _England_, but not
knowing whether they would be taken in good part, I forbear them for the
present. Pray comfort my dear spouse with a royal kiss, and tell her, I
wait her coming with impatience. Bid my beloved son not despair of
ascending my throne, that is, provided he shakes off the fetters of the
_Romish_ superstition; let him not despond upon account of my unfaithful
servant _Fuller_’s evidence against his legitimacy, for the depositions
of my nobility, which are still upon record in the Chancery, will
easily defeat that perjur’d fellow’s pretended proof, with all honest
considering men. And as for the numerous addresses, which I hear, are
daily presented to my successor against him, he may find as many in my
strong box, which were presented to me in his favour, both before and
after his birth. The last courier brought us news of a pretended
miracle, wrought by my body at the _Benedictines_ church; I earnestly
desire you to disabuse the world, and keep the imposture from getting
ground; for how is it possible I should cure eye-fistulas, now I am
dead, that could not ease myself of a troublesome corn in my toe when
living? My service to all our friends and acquaintance; be assur’d that
all the _Lethean_ waters shall never wash away from my memory the great
services I have received at your hands in the other world; nor the
inviolable affection, which makes me subscribe myself,
_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,
Your most obliged Friend_,
JAMES REX.
LEWIS XIV_’s. Answer to_ K. JAMES II. _By the same Hand._
_Most beloved Royal Brother and Cousin_,
Your’s I received this morning, and no sooner cast my eyes upon the
superscription, but I guess’d it to be written by one of my fellow
kings, by the scrawl and ill spelling. I am glad your account of the
other world agrees so well with the thoughts I always entertained about
it: For, between friends, I never believ’d the stories the priests tell
us of hell and purgatory. Ambition has ever been my religion; and my
grandeur the only deity to which I have paid my adorations. If I have
persecuted the protestants of my kingdom, ’twas not because I thought
their perswasions worse than the _Romish_, but because I look’d upon
them as a sort of dangerous, antimonarchical people; who, as they had
fixed the crown upon my head, so they might as easily take it off, to
serve their own party; and because by that means I secur’d the
_Jesuits_, who must be own’d the best supporters of arbitrary power.
Nay, to tell you the truth, my design in making you, by my emissaries, a
stickler of popery, was only to create jealousies betwixt you and your
people, so that ye might stand in need of my assistance, and be
tributary to my power. I am sorry you are in the company of the three
persons you mention. To get rid of their teasing and reproaching
conversation, I advise you to propose a match at whisk, and if by
casting knaves you can but get _Machiavel_ on your side, I am sure you
will get the better of the other two. Since you mention my owning the
prince your son as king of _Great Britain_, I must needs tell you, that
neither he nor you, have reason to be beholden to me for it; for what I
did was not to keep my promise to you, but only to serve my own ends; I
considered, that an alliance being made between the _English_, the
_Emperor_, and the _Dutch_, in order to reduce my exorbitant power, a
war must inevitably follow. Now, I suppose, that after two or three
years fighting, my finances will be pretty near exhausted, and that I
shall be forced to condescend to give peace to _Europe_, as I did four
years ago. The _Emperor_, I reckon, will be brought to sign and seal
upon reasonable terms, and be content with having some small share in
the _Spanist_ monarchy, as will the _Dutch_ also with a barrier in
_Flanders_. These two less considerable enemies being quieted, how shall
I pacify those I fear most, I mean the _English_? Why, by turning your
dear son out of my kingdom, as I formerly did you and your brother. Not
that I will wholly abandon him neither: no, you may rest assured that I
will re-espouse his quarrel, as soon as I shall find an opportunity to
make him instrumental to the advancement of my greatness. I am obliged
to cardinal _Richlieu_ for the concern he shews for the honour of
_France_, and will not fail to make use of his advice, as far as my
running cash will let me. But I am somewhat puzzled how to manage
matters in _England_ at the next sessions; for my agent _P----n_, by
taking his leave in a publick tavern, of three of our best friends, has
render’d them suspected to the nation, and consequently useless to me. I
wish you could direct me to some trusty _Jacobite_ in _England_, to
distribute my bribes; for I find my own subjects unqualify’d for that
office, and easily bubbled by the sharp mercenary _English_. However, I
will not so much depend upon my _Lewis d’ors_, as to disband my armies,
and lay up my fleets, as you and cardinal _Richlieu_ seem to counsel me
to do. I suppose you have no other intelligence but the
_London-Gazette_, else you would not entertain so despicable an opinion
of my arms in _Italy_. I send you here enclos’d a collection of the
_Gazettes_ printed this year in my good city of _Paris_, whereby you
will find, upon a right computation, that the _Germans_ have lost ten
men to one of the confederates. Pray fail not sending me by the next
post, all the instructions you can think of, in relation to _England_:
for tho’ you made more false steps in this world, than any of your
predecessors; yet I find by your letter, you have wonderfully improv’d
your politicks by the conversation of _Machiavel_ and _Richlieu_. I have
communicated your letter to your dear spouse and beloved son, who cannot
be perswaded to believe it came from you; not thinking it possible that
so religious a man, whilst living, should turn libertine after his
death: I cannot, with safety, comply to your desire of disabusing the
world, concerning the miraculous cure pretended to be wrought by your
body at the _Benedictines_ church. Such pious frauds being the main prop
of the Popish religion; as this is of my sovereign authority. Your son
may hope to be one day seated on your throne, not by turning Protestant
(to which he is entirely averse, and which I shall be sure to prevent)
but by the _superiority_ of my arms, and the _extensiveness_ of my
_power_, after I shall have fix’d my son on the monarchy of _Spain_.
Madam _Maintenon_ desires to be remembred to you, she writes by this
post to Mr. _Scarron_, her former husband, to desire him to wait on you,
and endeavour to divert your melancholy thoughts, by reading to you the
third part of his comical romance, which we are inform’d he has lately
written, for the entertainment of the dead. I remain as faithfully as
ever,
_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,
Your affectionate Friend_,
LEWIS REX.
_From_ JULIAN, _late Secretary to the_ MUSES, _to_ WILL. PIERRE
_of_ Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields _Play-house. By another Hand._
_Pandæmonium the 8th of the month of_ Belzebub.
_Worthy and Right Well-beloved_,
That you may not wonder at an address from hell, or be scandaliz’d at
the correspondence, I must let you know first, that by the uncertainty
of the road, and the forgetfulness of my old acquaintance, all my former
letters are either miscarried, or have been neglected by my
correspondents, who, tho’ they were fond enough of my scandal, nay,
courted my favours when living, now I am past gratifying their vices,
like true men, they think no more of me. The conscious tub-tavern can
witness, and my _Berry-street_ apartment testify the sollicitations I
have had, for the first copy of a new lampoon, from the greatest lords
of the court; tho’ their own folly, and their wives vices were the
subject. My person was so sacred, that the terrible scan-man had no
terrors for me, whose business was so publick and so useful, as
conveying about the faults of the great and the fair; for in my books
the lord was shewn a knave or fool, tho’ his power defended the former,
and his pride would not see the latter. The antiquitated coquet was told
of her age and ugliness, tho’ her vanity plac’d her in the first row in
the king’s box at the play-house, and in the view of the congregation at
St. _James_’s church. The precise countess that wou’d be scandaliz’d at
a double _entendre_, was shewn betwixt a pair of sheets with a well made
footman, in spite of her quality and conjugal vow. The formal statesman
that set up for wisdom and honesty, was exposed as a dull tool, and yet
a knave, losing at play his own revenue, and the bribes incident to his
post, besides enjoying the infamy of a poor and fruitless knavery
without any concern. The demure lady, that wou’d scarce sip off the
glass in company, carousing her bottles in private, of cool _Nantz_ too,
sometimes to correct the crudities of her last night’s debauch. In
short, in my books were seen men and women as they were, not as they
wou’d seem; stripp’d of their hypocrisy, spoil’d of their fig-leaves of
their quality. A knave was a call’d a knave, a fool a fool, a jilt a
jilt, and a whore a whore. And the love of scandal and native malice
that men and women have to one another, made me in such request when
alive, that I was admitted to the lord’s closet, when a man of letters
and merit would be thrust out of doors. And I was as familiar with the
ladies as their lap-dogs; for to them I did often good services, under a
pretence of a lampoon, I conveying a _Billet-deux_; and so whilst I
expos’d their past vices in the present, I prompted matter for the next
lampoon. After all these services, believe me, Sir, I was no sooner
dead, than forgotten: I have writ many letters to the brib’d countries,
of their fore-runner’s arrival in these parts, but not one word of
answer. I sent word to my lord _Squeezall_ that his good friend Sir
_Parcimony Spareall_ was newly arriv’d, and clapp’d into the bilbows for
a fool as well as a knave, that starv’d himself to supply the
prodigality of his heirs. But he despises good counsel I hear, and
starves both himself and his children, to raise them portions. I writ
another letter to my lady _Manishim_, that virtuous Mrs. _Vizoe_ was
brought in here, and made shroving-fritters for the hackney devils, for
her unnatural lusts; but _Sue Frousy_ that came hither the other day,
assures me, that she either received not my letter, or at least took no
notice of it; for that she went on in her old road, and had brought her
vice almost into fashion; and that the practical vices of the town
bounded an eternal breach betwixt the sexes, while each confin’d itself
to the same sex, and so threaten’d a cessation of commerce in
propagation betwixt them. In short, Sir, I have tired my self with
advices to my _quondam_ acquaintance, and that should take away your
surprise at my sending to you, who must be honest, because you are so
poor; and a man of merit because you were never promoted; for your world
of the theatre, is the true picture of the greater world, where honesty
and merit starve, while knavery and impudence get favour from all men.
For you, Sir, if I mistake not, are one of the most ancient of his
majesty’s servants, under the denomination of a player, and yet cannot
advance above the delivering of a scurvy message, which the strutting
leaders of your house wou’d do much more aukwardly, and by consequence
’tis the partiality of them, or the town, that have kept you in this low
post all this while. This perswades me, that from you I may hope a true
and sincere account of things, and how matters are now carried above;
for lying, hypocrisy, and compliment, so take up all that taste of
fortune’s favour, that there is scarce any credit to be given to their
narrations; for either out of favour or malice, they give a false face
to histories, and misrepresent mankind to that abominable degree, that
the best history is not much better than a probable romance; and
_Quintus Curtius_, and _Calprenede_, are distinguished more by their
language than sincerity. Thus much by shewing the motive of my writing
to you, to take away your surprise; tho’, before I pass, to remove the
shame of such a correspondence, I must tell you, that your station
qualifying you for a right information of the scandal of the town, I
hope you will not fail to answer my expectation: Behind your scenes come
all the young wits, and all the young and old beaus, both animals of
malice, and wou’d no more conceal any woman’s frailty, or any man’s
folly, than they will own any man’s sense, or any woman’s honesty.
I know that hell lies under some disadvantages, in the opinion even of
those who are industrious enough to secure themselves a retreat here.
They play the devil among you, and yet are ashamed of their master, and
rail at his abode, as much as if they had no right to the inheritance.
The miser, whose daily toils, and nightly cares and study is how to
oppress the poor, cheat or overreach his neighbour, to betray the trusts
his hypocrisy procured; and, in short, to break all the positive laws of
morality, cries out, _Oh diabolical!_ at a poor harmless double meaning
in a play, and blesses himself that he is not one of the ungodly; rails
at Hell and the Devil all the while he is riding post to them. The holy
sister, that sacrifices in the righteousness of her spirit the
reputation of some of her acquaintance or other every day; that cuckolds
her husband in the fear of the Lord with one of the elect; rails at the
whore of _Babylon_, and lawn-sleeves, as the diabolical invention of
_Lucifer_, tho’ she is laying up provisions here for a long abode in
these shades of reverend _Satan_, whom she so much all her life declaims
against. The lawyer that has watched whole nights, and bawl’d away whole
days in bad causes, for good gold; that never car’d how crafty his
client’s title was, if his bags were full; that has made a hundred
conveyances with flaws, to beget law-suits, and litigious broils; when
he’s with the Devil, has the detestation of Hell and the Devil in his
mouth, all the while that the love of them fills his whole heart; and so
thro’ the rest of our false brothers, whose mouths bely their minds, and
fix an infamy on what they most pursue.
This is what may make you ashamed of my correspondence, but when you
will reflect on what good company we keep here, you will think it more
an honour than disgrace; for our company here is chiefly composed of
princes, great lords, modern statesmen, courtiers, lawyers, judges,
doctors of divinity, and doctors of the civil-law, beaux, ladies of
beauty and quality, wits of title, men of noisy honour, gifted brothers,
boasters of the spirits supply’d them from hence: In short, all that
make most noise against us: which will, I hope, satisfy you so far, as
to make me happy in a speedy answer; which will oblige,
_Your very Humble and
Infernal Servant_,
JULIAN.
WILL. PIERRE_’s Answer. By the same Hand._
_Behind the Scenes_, Lincolns-Inn-Fields,
Nov. 5. 1701.
_Worthy Sir, of venerable Memory._
Yours I received, and have been so far from being surpriz’d at, or
asham’d of your correspondence, that the first I desired, and the latter
was transported with. My mind has been long burdened, and I wanted such
a correspondence to disclose my grievances to, for there is no man on
earth that wou’d give me the hearing, for Popery makes a man of the best
parts a jest, and every fool with a feather in his cap, can overlook a
man of merit in rags. Wit from one out at heels, sounds like nonsense in
the ears of a gay fop, that knows no other furniture of a head, but a
full wig; and he that would split himself with the half jest of a lord
he wou’d flatter, is deaf to the best thing from the mouth, of a poor
fellow he can’t get by. These considerations, Sir, have made me proud of
this occasion, of replying to your obliging letter, in the manner you
desire. For as scandal was your occupation here above, you, like
vintners and bawds, living on the sins of the times; so a short
impartial account of the present state of iniquity and folly, cannot be
disagreeable to you.
Poetry was the vehicle that conveyed all your scandal to the town, and I
being conversant about the skirts of that art, my scandal must dwell
chiefly thereabouts; not omitting that scantling of general scandal of
the town, that is come to my knowledge; for you must know, since your
death, and your successor _Summerton_’s madness, lampoon has felt a very
sensible decay, and seldom is there any attempt at it, and when there
is, ’tis very heavy and dull, cursed verse, or worse prose: so gone is
the brisk spirit of verse, that us’d to watch the follies and vice of
the men and women of figure, that they could not start new ones faster
than lampoons expos’d them. This deficiency of satire is not from a
scarcity of vices, which abound more than ever, or follies more numerous
than in your time, but from a meer impotence of malice, which tho’ as
general as ever, confines itself to discourse; and railing is its utmost
effort, defaming over one bottle, those they caress over another. Every
man abuses his friend behind his back, and no man ever takes notice of
it, but does the same thing in his turn: And for sincerity, women have
as much: the women grow greater hypocrites than ever, lewder in their
chamber practice, and more formal in publick; they rail at the vices
they indulge; they forsake publick diversions, as plays, _&c._ to gain
the reputation of virtue, to give a greater loose to the domestick
diversions of a bottle and gallant; and hypocrisy heightens their
pleasures. The mode now is not as of old, in all amorous encounters,
every man to his woman, but like nuns in a cloyster, every female has
her _privado_ of her own sex; and the honester part of men, must either
fall in with the modish vice, or live chastly; to both which I find a
great many extreamly averse. There has a terrible enemy arose to the
stage, an abdicate divine, who when he had escaped the pillory for
sedition, and reforming the state, set up for the reformation of the
stage. The event was admirable, fanaticks presented the nonjuror, and
misers and extortioners gave him bountiful rewards: one grave citizen,
that had found the character too often on the stage, and famous for the
ruin of some hundreds of poor under-tradesmen’s families, laid out
threescore pounds in the impression, to distribute among the saints,
that are zealous for God and mammon at the same time: Bullies and
republicans quarrell’d for the _passive obedience_ spark; grave divines
extoll’d his wit, and atheists his religion; the fanaticks his honesty,
the hypocrite his zeal, and the ladies were of his side, because he was
_for submitting to force_. There is yet a greater mischief befall’n the
stage; here are societies set up for _reformation of manners_; troops of
_informers_, who are maintain’d by perjury, serve God for gain, and
ferret out whores for subsistence. This noble society consists of
divines of both churches, fanatick as well as orthodox saints and
sinners, knights of the post, and knights of the elbow, and they are not
more unanimous against immorality in their informations, than for it in
their practice; they avoid no sins in themselves, and will suffer none
in any one else. The fanaticks, that never preached up morality in their
pulpits, or knew it in their dealings, would seem to promote it in the
ungodly. The churchmen, that would enjoy the pleasure of sinners, and
the reputation of saints, are for punishing whores and drinking in all
but themselves. In short, the motive that carries the Popish apostles to
the richer continents, makes these gentlemen so busy in our reformation
money. Nay, reformation is grown a staple commodity, and the dealers in
it are suddenly to be made into a corporation, and their privileges
peculiar are to be perjury without punishment, and lying with impunity.
The whores have a tax laid on them towards their maintenance, in which
they share with captain _W_----, and the justices of the peace; for
_New-Prison_ knows them in all their turns, and twenty or thirty
shillings gives them a license for whoring, till next pay-day; so that
the effect of their punishment only raising the price of the sin, and
the vices of the nation maintain the informers. Drinking, swearing and
whoring are the manufactures they deal in; for should they stretch their
zeal to _cozening, cheating, injury, extortion, oppression, defamation,
secret adulteries, and fornication_, and a thousand other of these more
crying immoralities, the city would rise against these invaders of their
liberties, and the cuckolds one and all, for their own and their wives
sakes, rise against the reformers. These worthy gentlemen, for promoting
the interest of the _Crown Office_, and some such honest place, pick
harmless words out of plays, to indict the players and squeeze twenty
pound a week out of them, if they can, for their exposing pride, vanity,
hypocrisy, usury, oppression, cheating, and the other darling vices of
the master reformers, who owe them a grudge, not to be appeas’d without
considerable offerings; for money in these cases wipes off all defects.
There are other matters of smaller importance, I shall refer to my next,
as who kisses who in our dominions; that hypocrisy has infected the
stage too, where whores with great bellies would thrust themselves off
for virgins, and bully the audience out of their sight and
understanding; where maids can talk bawdy for wit, and footmen pass on
quality for gentlemen; fools sit as judges on wit, and the ignorant on
men of learning; where the motto is _Vivitur Ingenio_, the dull rogues
have the management and the profits; where farce is a darling, and good
sense and good writing not understood: and this brings to my mind a
thing I lately heard from a false smatterer in poetry behind the scenes,
and which if you see _Ben. Johnson_, I desire you to communicate to him.
A new author, says one, that has wrote a taking play, is writing _a
treatise of Comedy, in which he mauls the learned rogues, the writers,
to some purpose_; he shews what a coxcomb _Aristotle_ was, and what a
company of senseless pedants the _Scaligers_, _Rapins_, _Vossi_, _&c._
are; proves that no good play can be regular, and that all rules are as
ridiculous as useless. He tells us, _Aristotle_ knew nothing of poetry,
(for he knew nothing of his fragments so extoll’d by _Scaliger_) and
that common sense and nature was not the same in _Athens_ as in
_Drury-lane_; that uniformity and coherence was _green-sleeves_ and
_pudding-pies_, and that irregularity and nonsense were the chief
perfections of the _drama_. That the _Silent Woman_, by consequence was
before the _Trip to the Jubilee_, and the _Ambitious Step-Mother_,
better than the _Orphan_; that _hiccius doctius_ was _Arabick_, and that
_Bonnyclabber_ is the _black broth_ of the _Lacedæmonians_; and thus he
runs on with paradoxes as new as unintelligible; but this noble treatise
being yet in embryo, you may expect a farther account of it in the next,
from,
_Sir,
Your obliged humble Servant_,
WILL. PIERRE.
ANTIOCHUS _to_ LEWIS XIV. _By Mr._ HENRY BAKER.
_Dear Brother_,
You will be surpriz’d, I know, to receive this letter from a stranger;
and of all the damn’d, perhaps, I am the only man from whom you least of
all expect any news; because I have always passed for so impious and
cruel a prince, and my name has given people such horrid ideas of me,
that they think me insensible of pity, as having never practised any in
my life-time.
When I sat upon the throne of _Syria_, having no more religion than your
_Most Christian Majesty_, I stifled all the dictates of my conscience,
pillaged the temple of the _Jews_, caroused with their blood, and
running from one crime to another, drew infinite desolations every where
after me. But after I had exercised my tyranny on the innocent posterity
of several great kings, and left a thousand monuments of my barbarity, I
found to my sorrow, that I was mortal, and obliged to submit to that
fare, whose attacks feeble nature cannot resist. I then fell into an
abyss, which is enlightened only by those flames which will for ever
roast such monsters as we; and where I was loaded with heavier irons
than any I had plagu’d poor mortals with above. To welcome me into this
place of horror, and refresh me after my voyage, I was plung’d into a
bath of fire and brimstone, cupp’d by a Master-devil, rubb’d, scrubb’d,
_&c._ by a parcel of smoaking, grinning hobgobblins, and afterwards
presented with a musical entertainment of groans, howling, and gnashing
of teeth. I soon began to play my part in this hideous consort, where
despair beat the measure; and because my pains were infinitely greater
than those of others, I immediately asked the reason of my torments, and
was told it was for having hindered the peopling of Hell, by the
multitude of martyrs my long persecutions had made, and of which you
cannot be ignorant, if you delight in useful reading. Since I have been
in this empire of sorrow, where I found the _Pharaohs_, _Ahabs_,
_Jezebels_, _Athaliahs_, _Nebuchadnezzars_, &c. and where I have seen
arrive the _Neroes_, _Dioclesians_, _Decii_,[1] _Philips of Austria_,
[2] _Charles of Valois_, whose names would fill a volume; the recruits
of _Loyola_ arrive every day in search of their captain, but in some
confusion, for fear of meeting _Clement_ and _Ravillac_, who never cease
cursing them. Your apartments, _Most Christian Hero_, has been some
fifty years a rearing, but now they redouble their care, your coming
being daily expected; I give you timely notice of it, that you may take
your measures accordingly. Perhaps you will be offended at this
familiarity, and tell me no man can deserve hell for fighting against
hereticks, under the command of an infallible general; but if you know
the present state of those miter’d leaders, it would not a little
terrify you. _Lucifer_ has turned them into several shapes, and peopl’d
his back yard with them; the place ’tis true, is not so delightful as
your _Menagerie_ and _Trianon_ at _Versailles_, but much excels it in
variety and number of monsters. Your cell is in the same yard, that you
may be near your good friends, who advis’d you to make the habitation of
the shades a desart; for which the prince of darkness hates you
mortally, and designs you something worse than a fistula, or the bull of
_Phalaris_. Your ingenious emissaries, _Marillac_, _la Rapine_, and _la
Chaise_, will meet in the squadrons of _Pluto_ with more invenom’d
dragoons, than those they let loose against their poor countrymen in
_France_: ’twill be their employment to keep this _Menagerie_ clean,
whose stench would otherwise poison the rest of hell. That renegado
_Pelisson_ too makes so odious a figure here, that he frights the
boldest of our jaylors; and his eyes, red with crying for his sins,
which were so much the greater, because they were voluntary, make him
asham’d to look anyone in the face. Our learned think him profoundly
ignorant; yet you must be the _Trajan_ of that _Pliny_, for he is now
writing your history in such a terrible manner, that it will but little
resemble that which your pensionary wits are composing. The voyage
having made him lose some part of his memory, and forget the particulars
of your virtues; he will therefore take me for his model, and draw my
life under your name. Tho’ your dear [3] _Dulcinea_, whose head he
dresses like a girl’s, at the age of threescore and ten, makes the court
of _Proserpine_ rejoice before-hand; yet the deformed [4] author of the
comical romance, cannot laugh, as facetious as he is; I will tell you no
more, because some may think I give this counsel out of my private
interest; for having been always ambitious, it would doubtless grieve me
to see a more wicked and cruel tyrant than myself; but on the faith and
word of one that endures the sharpest of torments, ’tis pure compassion.
_I am Yours_, &c.
LEWIS _the_ XIV_th’s Answer_.
I just now receiv’d your’s by a courier, who, had he not been too nimble
for me, had been rewarded according to his deserts for his impudent
message. But are you such a coxcomb as to imagine that the most
ambitious monarch upon earth, whose power puts all the princes and
states of _Europe_ into convulsions, can be frighted at the threats of a
wretch condemn’d to everlasting punishments? The insolence of your
comparison, I must confess, threw me into a rage: and not reflecting at
first on the impossibility of the thing, I sent immediately for
_Boufflers_ to dragoon you. But, villain! because your malice has been
rampant for so many ages, must you now level it at the eldest son of the
church, whom the godly _Jesuits_ have already canoniz’d? I am not so
ignorant of the history of _Asia_, tho’ I never read any of the books of
the _Maccabees_; but I know you were both judge and executioner, and
that there is not in the universe one monument consecrated to your
glory. Thanks to the careful _Jesuits_, _la place des victoris_, is a
sufficient proof that my reputation is no _chimera_, and my name, which
is to be seen in golden characters over several monasteries, assures me
of a glorious immortality. ’Tis true, to keep in favour with the church,
I have compell’d a handful of obstinate fools to leave their country and
estates, by forcing them to renounce their God, and implicitly take up
with mine. Therefore the world has no reason to make such a noise about
it. Are you mad to call _Pelisson_, who has read more volumes than a
_rabbi_, and cou’d give lessons of hypocrisy to the most exquisite sect
of the _Pharisees_, a block-head? Your torments are so great, you know
not on whom to spit your venom, and my poor [5] mistress, forsooth, must
suffer from your malice: Is she the worse for being born in the reign of
my grandfather? Pray ask _Boileau_, whose sincerity has cost him many a
tear, what he thinks of her. All the world knows her virtues, and that
she is grown grey in the school of dissimulation and lewdness, which
have render’d her so charming in the feats of love, that she pleases me
more than the youngest beauty; therefore are her wrinkles the objects of
my wonder, and the provocatives of my enervated limbs, instead of being
antidotes; and I would not give a saint a wax-candle to make her
younger. Tho’ I am seiz’d by a cancer on the shoulder, yet I am under no
apprehensions, for I have given a fee to St. _Damian_, who will cure me
of it, as well as of that nauseous malady of _Naples_: And I have
plenipotentiaries now bribing heaven for its friendship, and a new term
of years. Then ’tis in vain for _Lucifer_, or you, ever to expect me;
and when I must leave this terrestial _paradice_, ’twill be with such a
convoy of _Masses_, as will hurry me by the very gate of _Purgatory_,
without touching there. In the mean time correct your saucy liberty, and
let a monarch who wou’d scorn to entertain such a pitiful wretch as thou
art for his pimp, still huff the world, and sleep quietly in his
_seraglio_.
_Versailles_, July 14.
LEWIS R.
CATHARINE de Medicis, _to the Duchess of_ ORLEANS.
_Madam_,
I have long bewailed your condition, and tho’ I am in a place of horror,
yet I should think myself in some measure happy, if I knew how to
deliver you from those anxieties which torment you. We have some body or
other arrives here daily from _Versailles_, and as my curiosity inclines
me to enquire after your highness, I have received so advantageous a
character of your goodness from all hands, that I think every one ought
to pity you. Your life, madam, has been very unhappy, for you were
married very young to a jealous ill-natur’d prince, who had no love for
you; tho’ no person in the world was fitter either to inspire or receive
it than yourself: However, you have had better luck than his former
wife, which I take to be owing to your prudence, and not his generosity.
The desolations of the _Palatine_, and persecution of a religion you
once approved, must infallibly have given you many uneasy moments, but
your misfortunes did not stop here, for even your domestick pleasures
have been poison’d by the dishonour and injustice of the court you live
in. In short, tho’ I was very unfortunate, yet I think you much more
worthy of compassion: When I married _Henry_ II. I was both young and
handsome, yet his doting on the haughty duchess of _Valentinois_, who
was a grandmother before _Francis_ II. was born, made me pass many
melancholy nights. Notwithstanding the injustice as well as cruelty of
keeping a saucy strumpet under my nose, yet with the veil of prudence
and religion, I easily covered my inclinations, because the pious
cardinal of _Lorrain_, who had an admirable talent to comfort an
afflicted heart, commiserating my condition, gave me wonderful
consolation. As the refreshing cordials of the church soon made me
forget the king’s ill usage of me; so, madam, it is not so much the
infidelity of your husband, as the cruel constraint and jealousy, that
makes me think your life to be miserable; for how great soever your
occasions are, you dare not I know, accept of those assistances, I daily
receive from a plump agreeable prelate, and I am heartily sorry for it.
To divert this discourse, which may perhaps aggravate your uneasiness,
by renewing your necessities, you’ll tell me, I suppose, that I shou’d
have had as much compassion, when _France_ was dy’d with the blood of so
many thousand victims, and that I might easily have moderated the fury
of my son, and of the house of _Guise_; but besides, you must consider,
I was a zealous Papist; and they, you know, think the cutting of poor
hereticks throats is doing heaven good service; so that I beheld the
dreadful massacre of St. _Bartholomew_ with as much satisfaction as ever
I did the most glorious and solemn festival. I am not for it at present,
madam, and could I have been so sooner, it would have been much more for
my ease. All my comfort is, that I am not by myself in a strange and
unknown country: for the old duchess, who robbed me of my due
benevolence in the other world, continually follows me to upbraid me;
the _Guises_ rave, brandishing bloody daggers in their hands; and every
hour I meet with numbers of my former acquaintance and nearest
relations, but I avoid their company as much as I can, for the love of
my dear cardinal, who continues as great a gallant as ever. I ask no
masses of you, for the dead are not a farthing the better for them. But,
madam, since all the world has not so good an opinion of me at
_Brantome_, let me conjure you not to let my memory be too much
insulted. Some may say I was as cunning as _Livia_, that I was even with
my husband, and govern’d my children; but their fate did not answer my
care: For _Francis_ liv’d but a little time, _Elizabeth_ found her tomb
in the arms of a jealous husband, the queen of _Navarre_ was a wandering
star, _Charles_ a cautious coxcomb, that sacrificed all to his safety;
and _Henry_, on whom I had founded all my hopes, a dissolute debauchee,
whom the justice of heaven would not spare. You know his history, and if
you shou’d see a tragedy, of the like nature acted on your stage, let
your constancy, which makes you respected even in hell, support you. Let
old [6] _Messalina_ enjoy the famous honour of the royal bed; you need
not blush at it, since all the world esteems you as much as they.
_The Answer of the Duchess of_ ORLEANS _to_ CATHARINE de Medicis.
’Twas with much reason you pity me; and tho’ I have said nothing all
this while, yet I have not thought the less. If the practice of our
court did not teach me to dissemble, I should give myself some ease, by
imparting many things to you, which would fill you with horror; and then
you would find that the cruelties of your sons were trifles in
comparison of these. The most impartial censurers of barbarity maintain
that the massacre of St. _Bartholomew_ was milder than the present
persecution of the Protestants: Ambition was the chiefest motive of the
_Guises_; but now their cruelties are covered with the cloak of
religion; for the virtuous favourite [7] _Sultaness_, with the pitious
[8] _Mufti_ in waiting, are resolved to cause the christians to be more
cruelly persecuted than they were at _Algiers_, and the _Roman church_
is resolved, at any rate, to merit the name of the blood-thirsty beast.
They value not exposing the reputation of princes; I blush for my race,
and am often obliged to swallow my tears. I believe the efficacy of
masses no more than you, therefore I will not offer you any. I am very
glad to hear the cardinal of _Lorrain_ proves so constant; for a prelate
of his talent and constitution must certainly be a great consolation to
a distressed princess. _Brantome_ who has so much flatter’d you, may do
it again; and tho’ _Sancy_ has been too sincere, yet he dares not
contradict him in your presence. I hope to see the ruins of my country
rais’d up again; for tho’ our ambitious monarch huffs and hectors all
Christendom, yet his game to me seems very desperate, and I believe
he’ll prove the dog in the fable; since he has so depopulated and
impoverish’d his dominions by persecutions, that those pious drones the
_Monks_, only can support the church’s grandeur in their faces, with
three story-chains; the rest of his people being reduc’d to wooden-shoes
and garlick. Tho’ our _Gazettes_ are little better than romances, yet
they will serve to divert you and your cardinal, when not better
employ’d; and I wish I could send them to you weekly. ’Tis true, great
numbers set out daily from hence, for your country; and among them,
people of the best quality, but I carefully avoid all commerce with
them; and tho’ I have a wonderful esteem for you, take it not amiss,
madam, if I endeavour never to see you.
_Cardinal_ MAZARINE, _to the Marquis_ de BARBASIUX.
I am surpriz’d to think you have profited so little by your father’s
example: as great a beast he was, he govern’d himself better than you;
for contenting himself with pillaging all _France_, according to our
maxims, he never attempted the life of any man, nor ever set any [9]
_Ravillacs_ to work. Is it not a horrible thing to see the [10] servant
of a minister of state suffer upon the wheel, and publish the shame of
him that set him to work? You were mightily mistaken in the choice of
your villain; for whenever you have a king to dispatch, you must employ
a _Jesuit_, or some novice inspired by their _religious society_; and
had you been so wise, the prince [11] you had a plot against wou’d not
be now in the way, to hinder the designs of a [12] king, for whom I have
the tenderness of a father, who was always under my subjection, and
wou’d have married my niece, if I had pleas’d. I fell into a cold sweat
even in the midst of my fire and brimstone, at the news of your
conspiracy; because it so severely reflected on his reputation. Ought
you to have exposed his credit in so dubious an enterprize? Is it not
sufficient that poets set upon him [13] _Mont Pagnotte_, whilst other
princes gave glorious examples at the head of their troops? That they
reproach him with incest, sodomy, adultery, and an unbridled passion for
the relict of a poor [14] poet, who is a turn-spit here below, and who
had nothing to keep him from starving when upon earth, but the pension
which the charity of _Anne of Austria_ granted to his infirmities,
rather than his works, tho’ very diverting. What was your aim in this
cowardly design? wou’d you have more servants, and more whores? Or,
ought you to effect that, to revive those scenes of cruelty and
treachery which we banish’d after the death of the most eminent cardinal
_Richlieu_? All the wealth you can raise, will never amount to the
treasures I was master of; and how much is there now left, ask the duke
of _Mazarine_, and my nephew of _Nevers_; one has been the bubble of the
priests, and the other of his pleasures. So that the children of the
first will hardly share one year of my revenue. His wife for several
years was no charge to him, she for her beauty, being kept by strangers;
whilst he fool’d away those vast riches he had by her. In short, you see
the praying coxcomb I made choice of, which, I must confess, I did when
I was in my cups, has thro’ his zeal and bigotry ruin’d all, even my
most beautiful statues; and that there is a curse entail’d upon such
estates as begin with a miracle, and end with a prodigy. I was born at
_Mazare_, without any other advantage than that of my beauty; but as a
young fellow can scarce desire a better portion than that, in _Italy_,
so it mov’d cardinal _Anthony_ to lead me lovingly from his chamber to
his closet, where on a soft easy couch, he preach’d to me morals after
the _Italian_ fashion; by which, and some other virtuous actions of the
same stamp, I became the richest favourite in the universe. You may as
well as I, heap a mighty treasure, and lose it foolishly. Do not be
guilty then of murder, for things so uncertain in the possession. Poor
_Louvois_! who left you all, who drank more than _Alexander_, and
thiev’d better than _Colbert_, or I, has not now water to quench his
thirst. You will undoubtedly meet the same destiny; for this is the
residence of traitors, murtherers, thieves, and all other notorious
villains. ’Tis not altogether so pleasant a place as [15] _Meudon_ and
_Chaville_; for we drink nothing but _Aqua-fortis_, and eat burning
_charcoal_; all happiness is banish’d, misery only triumphs; and
notwithstanding all those lying stories the priests may tell you, yet
you’ll be strangly surpriz’d, when you come to judge it by your own
experience.
_The Answer of Monsieur le Marquis de_ BARBASIEUX, _to Cardinal_
MAZARINE.
Your eminence I find, is in a great passion, because my father did not
get an estate in your service: Must you therefore abuse him, and turn
that as a crime upon me, which has been practis’d ever since there have
been kings in the world? If your talent only lay in pillaging and
plundering, must it therefore prescribe to mine? And do you think the
glory of taking away by dagger or poison the enemies of one’s prince,
deserves less immortality, than of ruining of his subjects? You have, I
confess, very meritoriously eterniz’d your name by that method, for
which reason you ought in conscience to allow me the liberty to find out
another. You are much in the wrong on’t, to complain of the duke of
_Mazarine_, who did you the honour to think you were only in purgatory,
and lavish’d your treasures upon bigots, in hopes to pray you out of it.
If he in a holy fit of zeal, dismember’d your fine statues, which
perhaps too often recalled to your memory the pious sermons of cardinal
_Anthony_, he is severely punish’d in a libel made against him, in
vindication of your beauteous niece. If that satire reaches your regions
below, you’ll soon be convinced what a coxcomb you were when you chose
the worst of men, to couple with the most charming of women. This, with
several other passages of your life, makes me not much wonder at your
condemning me by your cardinal’s authority, to drink _Aquafortis_, and
eat burning charcoal; it may perhaps be a proper diet for _Epicurean_
cardinals and _Italians_, who love hot liquors, and high-season’d
ragoos; but the lords of _Chaville_ and _Meudon_ do not desire your
entertainments. How do you know, I beseech you, but I may take the cell
of the young Marquis _d’Ancré_ at [16] _Mont Valerine_; there, by a long
penitence, to purge me of those sins you say I have committed? Therefore
if you reckon me in the number of those reprobates, doom’d to people the
infernal shades, time will at last make it appear, that your eminence
has reckoned without your host.
MARY I. _of_ England _to the_ Pope.
_Most Holy Father_,
The malignant planet that governed at my birth, so influenc’d all the
faculties of my soul, that I was the most outragious and barbarous
princess till that time mounted the _English_ throne; and as it is no
extraordinary thing to continue in the same temper, in a country
inhabited only with tyrants, and the butchers of their subjects, so you
ought not to be surprised, if I am not now dispossessed of it. I had not
long troubled the world before my mother [17] was divorced, and I myself
declared incapable of succeeding _Henry_ VIII. _Anne Boleyn_ was then
brought to the royal bed; and what was worse, with her was introduced a
religion so conformable to the laws of God, that it never suited with my
inclinations. The proud rival of _Catherine_, was afterwards sacrific’d
to the inconstancy of her voluptuous husband; but that insipid religion,
to my grief, was not confounded with her; for the young and simple
_Edward_ countenanced it during his reign. But then came my turn, and
you know, sovereign pontiff, with what pride and malice I mounted the
throne; the means I used to destroy that cursed heretical doctrine; the
pleasure I took in shedding my subjects blood; what magnificence and
splendor I gave to the mass; how barbarously I treated that innocent and
beautiful princess _Jane Gray_; with what severity I used my sister
_Elizabeth_, and also the immoderate joy that seized my precious soul,
when I married a prince who had, as well as I, the good quality of being
cruel to the highest degree, is not unknown to you. Notwithstanding what
I said in the beginning of my letter, you may, perhaps, think my
sentiments now altered: but I assure you the contrary, and that I cannot
behold with patience your present insensibility and mildness. Is it
possible you can suffer a religion, destitute of all ornaments, that has
nothing but truth and simplicity to recommend it, to get the advantage
of your _Rome_, which reigns in blood and purple, subsists by falshood
and idolatry, and sets up and pulls down kings? how can you endure it?
what a horrid shame and weakness is this? are there no more _Ravillacs_?
is there neither powder nor daggers, in the arsenal of the Jesuits? have
they forgot how to build wheels, gibbets, and scaffolds? or is your
malice, envy, hatred, and fury, seized with a lethargy? ’s death! holy
father, I am distracted when I think that nothing succeeds in _England_,
where I took so much pains, and practised so much cruelty to establish
Popery, and root out the doctrine of the apostles; and where your pious
emissaries following my zeal, had invented most admirable machines to
sacrifice, with _James_ I. all the enemies of your Anti-christian
Holiness. Do you sleep? and must _France_ only brandish the glorious
flambeau of persecution? Consider, I pray, that I employ the best of my
time in imprecations against the deserters from your church; that I so
inflamed my blood in those transports, that it threw me into a dropsy,
which hurried me to the grave. My husband, who was too much of my temper
to love me, was very little concerned: In short, that filthy disease
stifled me, a certain presage of the continual thirst I now suffer. But
I once more beseech you, most holy father, to re-inforce your squadrons,
to join them with the Most Christian King’s, and, with your holy
benediction, give them strict orders to grant no quarters to the
disciples of St. _Paul_. You will infinitely oblige by it both me and
_Lucifer_, who is now as zealous a _Romanist_ as your _eldest son_, and
who, like him, would not willingly suffer any but good Papists, the
friends and pensioners of _Versailles_, those sworn enemies of liberty
and property, in his dominions. I am so ill-natur’d, that my husband
_Philip_ is as cautious of embracing me, as he was in the other world;
but that’s no misfortune either to Earth or Hell, for we could produce
nothing but a monster between us, which would be the terror of mankind,
and horror of devils.
_The_ POPE_’s Answer to Queen_ MARY I.
You are too violent, dear madam, and men of my age and grandeur require
more moderation. I am acquainted with your history, and know your zeal;
by the same token, you need not waste your lungs to acquaint me with
either the one or the other. To be free with you, I am not of the humour
to espouse madly other peoples passions, tho’ I should leave the triple
crown destitute of all pomp and greatness. But I will make the hereticks
blot out of their writings, if possible, the names of _Antichrist_,
_devouring Dragon_, _Wolf disguis’d in sheeps-skin_, and several others
as abusive. Do you not believe people are weary of paying a blind
obedience to the see of _Rome_? Imperious _France_ has made us sensible
of it; and it is not the fault of the _eldest son of the Church_, if he
does not dethrone his mother. Ecclesiastical censures are now out of
fashion, and no more minded than pasquinades. We were scorn’d and
ridicul’d in your father’s time; and tho’ you were as handsome as my
_quondam_ mistress, _Donna Maria di S. Germano_, you would not oblige me
to put up fresh affronts for your sake. Your husband is to blame to
treat you with such indifference, and I think it very ill for an
infected worm-eaten carcase to despise so devout a queen. But I cannot
imagine why the popes, who live all under the same zone with you, suffer
such coldness. Suppose your husband should, like a heretick, despise
their exhortations, one of their decrees has power enough to divorce
you; which in time, I hope, may advance your grandeur; for we hear
_Pluto_ is in love with you for your zeal, and _Proserpine_ is given
over by the physicians. Therefore take my advice, and drink as little
water as you can; for being dropsical, the water of _Styx_ must needs be
prejudicial to you, and the church would lose an admirable good friend.
I offer you no indulgences, they are pure mountebank drugs, and were you
got no farther yet than Purgatory, have not the virtue to bring you
out. But grant they had that power, as your amours stand now, I suppose
you would not desire it; so, till I have the happiness of wishing your
imperial majesty much joy, _I am_, &c.
HARLEQUIN _to Father_ la CHAISE.
Since we were of the same trade, with this difference only, that I
compos’d farces to make the world laugh, and that you invent tragedies
that gave them horror: I believe, reverend father, you will not condemn
the liberty I take of writing to you.
In the first place, I beseech your reverence, not to put your penitents
out of conceit with those harmless diversions which make me and my
brother-players live so plentifully; but be pleased to take our small
flock into your protection: that power lies in the breast of you and
your pious society: and who wou’d grudge it to such holy men, who have
no other aim than settling and satisfying men’s consciences, by clearing
all the controverted difficulties of Christianity, and rendring religion
so plain and easy, that our enemies cannot find the least doubt or
difficulty in it. Nay, like a dextrous artist you can, with your
admirable morals, remove the justest scruples; for they give so pious an
air, so devout a shade to the greatest crimes, that they enchant the
world, and hide their deformity, without opposing the licentiousness of
passions, or destroying their pleasures or intention. These admirable
talents, most holy confessor, open to your society the closets and
hearts of princes, and bring all the lovers of voluptuousness and
barbarity to be your confessionaries. Truly, reverend father, your fame
is infinite, and the great St. _Loyola_ may be proud of having so many
righteous disciples. But these miracles make the world believe him
something related to _Simon Magus_; for without inchantments ’tis
impossible to do so many prodigies. The lameness in his feet, and megrim
he’s daily troubled with, by being too near a hot furnace of brimstone,
makes him so peevish and out of humour, that he cannot write to any of
you; therefore look upon me as his secretary, and not a-jot the lesser
saint for having been upon the stage; all _Paris_ can witness for me,
that as soon as I laid aside my comical mask and habit, I could, upon
occasion, look as demure and devout as a fresh pardoned penitent; so
that the employment is neither above my gravity, nor I hope above my
sincerity and capacity; for I have often had the honour of shewing my
parts before his most christian majesty in his _seraglio_, to make him
more prolifick, and more disposed to the mighty work of propagation.
But, reverend father, ’tis time now to tell you, as a good catholick and
your friend, that we are so scandaliz’d here at his conduct, that we
cannot believe he follows your holy advice; and were it not for this
doubt, and our sollicitations, _Lucifer_ had last summer sent _Loyola_
under the command of Monsieur _Luxembourg_, to dragoon you. _Zounds!_
says he, _is the order that daily sent me so many subjects revolted?_
’Tis true, the rogues _Ravillac_ and _Clement_ have a little disgrac’d
you, but we don’t value now what they say, for the wits have espoused
your quarrel, and blinded the eyes of detraction. Indeed it is no wonder
to us, since they sing to _Apollo_’s harp, which had the power to claim
the transports of _Jupiter_. Is there any thing so charming as the
discourse of [18] _Ariste_ and _Eugene_, and that little _Je ne sçai
quoi_, they speak so wittily of? Who can resist the art of good
invention in the work of wit, or an exquisite choice of good verses? And
who would not be charm’d with all those panegyricks upon the ladies? Is
not once reading of them a thousand times more diverting, than those
profound writings you so prudently forbid your penitents the perusal of?
I own indeed, that this conduct is not altogether so apostolical, but
’tis much easier than to be always puzzling and hammering our parables.
’Tis certain, most reverend father, shou’d you leave the sacred writ
open to all readers, it would fare with a thousand good souls, as with
king _Ahasuerus_, who became favourable to the true religion, by reading
a true chronicle, how many blind wretches think ye would see clear? How
many favourites would be hang’d, and _Mordecai_’s raised to honour? And
how many _Jesuits_ would be treated as the priests of _Baal_? But you,
I’m sure, will take care to hinder that; for truly ’twould be contrary
to your ecclesiastical prudence; and it is much safer for you to darken
the divine lights, and confound by sophisms the sacred truths of holy
writ: for what would become of your church, if the clouds were once
dispersed, since it flourishes by their favour, and the protection of
ignorance? Nothing can keep up the credit of a repudiated cheat, whose
shams are so notorious, and whole equipage so different from that of the
legitimate spouse of _Jesus Christ_, that neither he, nor any of his
faithful servants know or own her, but ignorance and falshood. I ask
your pardon, most reverend father, these expressions flow so naturally
from my subject, that they have escaped my sincerity; and I own this is
not the style of a flatterer. But to atone for my fault, I will give you
some wholsome advice, which is, _to make hay while the sun shines_, for
you must not expect much fair weather in these doleful quarters. Those
worthy gentlemen called _Confessors_, being looked upon here to be no
better than so many _Ignes fatui_, that lead their followers into
precipices; for which reason they are not allowed ice with their liquor.
This I can allure you to be true, _in verbo histrionis_: Therefore since
you know what you must trust to, I need not advise a person of your
profound parts, what measures to take. _Amen._
_Father_ la CHAISE_’s Answer to_ HARLEQUIN.
Tho’ you convers’d with none but impudent lousy rhimers, yet you are not
ignorant, you little jack-pudding of the stage, that all comparisons are
odious; and that there can be none between the confessor of a monarch,
and a buffoon. But to answer your letter with the moderation and
prudence of a _Jesuit_, I will suppose the first part of it not meant to
me. And now to take into consideration the essential points in it: have
we not proscribed heresy by sound of trumpet? And notwithstanding all
the pretty books we have published, and the cajoling tricks we have
used, is not heresy still the same? But to be serious, _Harlequin_, good
_Roman Catholicks_ must follow no other lights than those of tradition;
and they, who are so incredulous and obstinate as not to believe it,
must have their eyes opened with the sword. ’Twould be a fine
enterprize, wou’d it not, and very profitable to the church, to condemn
images, candles, holy-water, beads, scapularies, relicks, with an
hundred others, which are so many golden mines, and offer only to bigots
the slovenly equipage of _Calvin_’s reformation? Devotion meerly
spiritual, is too flat and insipid; therefore we must set it off with
jubilees, pilgrimages, processions, drums, trumpets, crosses, banners,
and all the mountebank tricks, and noble nick-nacks of St. _Germain_’s
fair. If I did not know that jesting was an habitual sin in you, I wou’d
never pardon you; for the _Society of Jesus_ does not teach us to
forgive injuries. Tell St. _Loyola_, the first of us that shall be sent
post to mighty _Lucifer_, to desire his assistance in those important
affairs our great monarch has undertaken by his instigation, and which
are too tedious now to relate, shall put into his portmantle some ice to
refresh him, plaisters for his megrim, and ointment for his burns: tell
him also, that the memory of the glorious prophet _Mahomet_, is not more
respected than his; and that I am,
_His most zealous,
and very humble Servant_,
la CHAISE.
_The Duke of_ ALVA _to the_ CLERGY _of_ FRANCE.
I believe, worthy gentlemen, you are very well satisfy’d that I am
damn’d; and---- indeed there was little likelihood that such a monster
as myself should enjoy happiness, after having committed so much
wickedness, and taken so much pleasure in it. I took a fancy to acts of
cruelty from my very cradle, and with great fidelity serv’d _Philip_ II.
The celebrated apostle of the _Gentiles_ never made so many miserable
wretches when he was as violent a zealot of the law; I, like him, made
use of chains, racks, fire, and all that an ingenious fury cou’d imagine
most tormenting; but it was never any part of my destiny to be converted
at last like him. Thus I went on in my iniquities, and became the
strongest brute that bigottry ever debauch’d; so that at my first
arrival to Hell, there was never a Devil of the whole pack but fell a
trembling, tho’ he had been never so much accustomed to such company
before. But, gentlemen, why are you not become wise by my example? For
you must not flatter yourselves, that the difference of our professions
makes any in our crimes. You are warriors when you please; for the
monastick soldiery follow’d the duke of _Mayeney_’s standard during the
league; crowned themselves with immortal shame at the barbarous triumph
of St. _Bartholomew_; and shoulder’d the musket after they had preached
those bloody sermons, which made christians treat their fellow-creatures
like beasts of prey. I confess, I never troubled my head about scruples
of conscience, and if I have not obeyed that article of the decalogue,
_Thou shalt not kill_, I never roared out with a wide mouth, as the
priests of the _Roman Church_, persecute, imprison, kill, destroy, force
them to obey. My fury came only from your brethren, who had so
thoroughly corrupted me, that I thought Heaven would be my reward, if I
butcher’d all they were pleased to stigmatize with heresy. So I gave a
loose to my passions, as you may read in history, where, I think, they
have used me but too kindly. To seduce men of weak understandings is no
extraordinary matter; but that princes, who ought to have a competent
knowledge of every thing, should be cheated by you, is a miracle to me.
No age of the world ever saw a greater example of it, than in my master
_Philip_, whose natural sloth, and besotted bigottry, gave so fair a
field to these ecclesiastical impostors, so fair an opportunity to
manage him as they pleased; and his father’s [19] ashes are a sufficient
proof of it. Instead of setting before his eyes the example of that
invincible prince, these sanctify’d villains only plunged him deeper in
superstition and idolatry. And as a domineering lazy lord of a country
village, will never go out of his own parish, so he never travelled
farther than from _Madrid_ to the _Escurial_. His wife, father, son, and
brother, felt the effects of their barbarous doctrine. And, to leave
behind him a pious idea of his soul, when he was dying, he ordered his
crown and coffin to be set before him. This was hypocrisy with a
witness, but that is no crime in a zealot. You’ll tell me perhaps, I
direct my discourse to improper persons, who know not the history of
_Philip_ of _Austria_, ignorance being common enough in those of your
fraternity, yet let me tell you, I am not mistaken; for the diabolical
spirit that now possesses you, is the very same that influenced the
priests of my time; and I may safely affirm, that _France_ is the
theatre of cruelty and iniquity. Your monarch, who is much such another
saint as my master, spares the poor Protestants lives, for no other
reason, but to make, by his inhuman torments, death more desirable to
them. These, and a thousand more unjust actions does he commit, to
satiate your hellish vanity, which would for ever domineer in the city
built on seven mountains. To this you will answer, What doth it signify
if we make him persecute the Protestants, murther their kings, and keep
no faith or treaties with them, since it encreases our power, and
propagates our religion? But, gentlemen, when you come to be where I am,
you will, I’m certain, sing another tune.
_The Answer of the_ CLERGY _of_ FRANCE _to the Duke of_ ALVA.
Had you made as sincere a confession in the days of yore, as you do now,
you might, for your zeal in persecuting heresy, have obtain’d an ample
absolution of all your sins, tho’ they had been never so numerous and
black, and been a glorious saint in the _Roman_ calendar; which induces
us to believe, your zeal tended rather towards the propagation of your
own power and interest, than that of the church. Thus in cheating us,
you likewise cheated yourself; and we are not sorry at your calamities.
But, does it become you, who once fill’d _Flanders_ and _Spain_ with
horror, to reproach the apostolick legions with the noble effects of
their fervency? And was it not absolutely necessary, after we had once
preached the destruction of the Protestants, that _Lewis_ the Great, to
compleat his glory, and our satisfaction, should send his holy troops to
burn, ravish, and pillage at discretion; that he might say with an
emperor of _Rome_, whom he very much resembles, _Let them hate, so they
fear me_? Where, Sir, do you find us commanded to keep faith with
hereticks, or suffer their princes to live, when ’tis against our
interest? Does not the _Roman_ church dispense with these little
_peccadillo’s_? And are not those who wear her cloth, and eat her bread,
oblig’d to obey her precepts? What pleases us most is to hear a whining
recreant as thou art, sing _peccavi_ at this time of day, and pretend to
remorse of conscience. For your comfort, you may desire _Cerberus_, if
you please, to join in the consort with you; but rest assured, that if
you had three mouths like that triple-headed cur, your barking would be
all in vain.
PHILIP _of_ AUSTRIA _to the_ DAUPHINE.
What do you mean, worthy kinsman, by pretending to be a man of honour!
Does it become a person of your birth? Do you find any precedent for it
in your family? Did your father make himself formidable by it? Or do you
find in history, that any merciful or generous prince made himself so
great, or reigned so prosperously for almost sixty years, as your
debauched and perjured father has done, who is now the terror and
scourge of _Europe_, and will be its tyrant, if treachery and gold can
prevail? But do you think those things to be crimes in sovereigns? If he
has indulg’d his lust, does he not severely persecute heresy? And
besides, does not his [20] mistress constantly pray and offer sacrifice?
You know she’s old enough to be prudent, and lives upon the gravity of
her age, since she stretches her devotion, even to the stage, by the
same token, she will suffer none of her husband’s [21] diverting farces
to be acted there any more. Thank Heaven therefore for sending you that
bountiful patroness from the [22] new world, who is the comfort and
preservation of your father and his kingdoms; and tho’ your mother was
my near relation, yet I am not ashamed to see so pure and zealous a
saint supply her place in the royal bed. I wonder she has not yet
prevailed with you to have more regard for the interest of the _Roman
Church_; to promote the grandeur, whereof I destroy’d many thousands of
its enemies, by the ministry of the duke of _Alva_, and order’d my
father’s bones to be dug out of the ground and burnt, for having
tolerated _Luther_’s heresy. Otherwise I should never have concern’d
myself about it, supposing none but flegmatick coxcombs would espouse a
church which does not keep open house all the year round, and won’t
pardon the greatest crimes for money. You know, I don’t doubt, what my
jealousy cost my [23] son and [24] wife, and how I treated the [25]
conqueror at _Levanto_: to balance that account with Heaven, I gave
largely to the priests, built monasteries, went to processions, was
loaded like a mule with beads and relicks, and by this means passed for
a saint. And this I think may properly enough be called a good religion.
’Tis true, I never saw any engagement but in my closet, or at a
distance, like your prudent father: what then, does the world talk less
of me, or him for that? The end of my life, I must confess, was
something singular, for the worms serv’d an execution upon my carcase
before the time; and so we hear they do his. But what does that signify,
so a man satisfies his own humour? Be not infatuated then with
vain-glory; for if they, who are exempt from the flames of hell, boast
of having angels, saints, and martyrs for their companions, we can brag
of having popes, cardinals, emperors, kings, queens, jesuits, monks, and
priests in abundance. I must own, our walks have not the charming
fountains and shades of [26] _Versailles_, and the _Escurial_; and that
it is always as hot weather with us here, as with the good folks under
the _Torrid Zone_: but such a trifle as this ought not to make you shun
the company of so many choice friends, as have an entire affection for
you.
The DAUPHINE’S Answer To PHILIP of Austria.
_Neither the examples you have quoted, nor those which are daily before
my eyes, have power enough to pervert me, I have a veneration for
virtue, which you, forsooth, call the quality of a coxcomb; and an
abhorrence for all that bears the stamp of vice, tho’ you have
illustrated it with the prosperous and glorious reign of the_ French
_monarch. But were the first unknown to me, I would not look for it in
your life; since, according to your best friends, it is a thing you
never practised. As sons have no authority to condemn the conduct of
their fathers, so I will not presume to examine into that of_ Lewis XIV.
_But tell me, I beseech you, what advantages you reaped from your
bigottry and superstition? For my part, had I some of the ashes of every
saint, in the_ Roman Calendar, _in my snuff-box, and carried beads as
big as cannon-bullets about me, I should not believe myself either a
better christian, or less exposed to danger. But to what purpose did
you, who never exposed your royal person in battle, arm yourself with
all those imaginary preservatives? Or can you say they defended you from
being devoured alive by millions of vermine, that punished you in this
life, for the iniquities you daily committed, and were only the prelude
to more terrible punishment. Let not my indifference for the church of_
Rome _break your rest; I have no power at present, and I can’t tell what
my sentiments would be, had I a crown on my head: but it now cruelly
troubles me, to see_ France _so weakened by the dispersion of so many
thousand innocent people: and did my opinion signify any more in our
councils than wind, I would advise the recalling of them. But the nymph,
you see, with so much satisfaction, supply the place of your grandchild,
and who has more power now than ever, is there as absolute as a_
dictator. _The_ French _monarchy, which has subsisted for so many ages,
might be still supported without her; she being good for nothing that I
know of, but to instruct youth in the nicest ways of debauchery;
therefore I could wish the king would transport her to her native soil,
and make her governess of the_ American _monkies; a fitter employment
for her than that she usurps over our princesses. To deal plainly with
you, I have no ambition to see your jesty, being satisfy’d with knowing
you from publick report; so will carefully avoid coming near your_
torrid zone, _if ’tis possible for a man to be any time a king of_
France, _without it_.
JUVENAL _to_ BOILEAU.
Since we don’t dispatch couriers every day from the kingdom of _Pluto_,
you ought not to be surprized, that I have not had an opportunity till
now, of telling you what sticks in my stomach. I thought your first
satires very admirable, your expressions just and laboriously turn’d,
yet charming and natural. Were the distribution of rewards in my power,
I should certainly give you something for your _Art of Poetry_: but for
your _Lutrin_, that master-piece of your wit, that highest effort of
your imagination, I see nothing in it worthy of you, but the
verification. Every one owns you can write, nay, your very enemies allow
it; but you know a metamorphosis requires an entire change; therefore,
since you resolve to imitate _Virgil_, you should have made choice of
noble heroes. He that travestied the _Æneis_, understood it better than
you, and did not fatigue himself so much; and as he was a man of clear
and good sense, has judiciously remark’d, that his queen disguised like
a country-wench, is infinitely beyond your clockmaker’s wife dress’d
like an empress. But let us leave this subject, which now it is too late
to amend, since what is done cannot be undone. What did you mean, you I
say, who have been accused of stealing my lines, and who, to deal
honestly with you, have often followed the same road I have traced? What
did you mean, I say, by reflecting on particulars in your satire against
women: Did I ever set you that example? Is not my sixth satire against
the sex in general; and when I look back as far as the reigns of
_Saturn_ and _Rhea_ for [27] modesty, do I pretend the least shadow of
it is left upon the earth? Unthinking fool! those different characters
you have drawn, will make you so many particular enemies; and I
question, if the patroness you have chosen can secure you from their
claws.
If an affected zeal inspires you with so much veneration for a saint of
the _Italian_ fashion, in truth you ought to have burnt your incense so
privately, that the smoke might not have offended others. How can the
bard that boasts of eating no flesh in _Lent_, that would frankly
discipline himself in the face of the godly, like one of the [28]
militia of St. _Francis_, adore a golden cow, and adorn an idol each
blast of wind can overthrow, with those garlands which should be
preserv’d for _the statues of the greatest heroes_! She is, it is true,
very singular in her kind; but will you stain your name, of _illustrious
poet_, by creeping before a walking mummy of her superannuated
gallantry? your sordid interest has made you a traytor to _Satire_; and
thereby you occasion here continual divisions, [29] _Chaquelian_ and
_St. Amant_ have been at cuffs with [30] _Moliere_ and _Cornielle_,
because you have not treated them so civilly as your [31] _Urgande_. The
two first ridicule your sordid covetous humour, and say you learnt that
baseness while you belong’d to the _Register’s Office_. The other two,
who were perhaps of your trade, defend the honour of your extraction.
But _St. Amant_[32], who will never forget the unworthy character you
have given him concerning his poverty, which he swears is false; and
submitting his verses to the judgment of unprejudiced persons, for which
you ridicule him, said in a haughty tone, (which set us all a laughing)
that when he was a gentleman of the chamber in ordinary to the queen of
_Poland_, and embassador extraordinary at the coronation of the queen of
_Sweden_, he kept several footmen of better quality than yourself.
_Chaquelian_, who cannot say so much for himself, is content with
singing the terrible valour of the duke _de Nevers_’s lackeys, who kept
time with their cudgels on your shoulders. We were forced to call for a
bottle to appease this war; and _St. Amant_, taking the glass in his
hand, swore by his maker, he had rather you had call’d him drunkard than
fool, tho’ he drinks very moderately in this place, where it is no great
scandal to be thirsty. Be not concerned at this paragraph, because the
rest of my letter sufficiently testifies the esteem I have for you, and
my concern for your welfare: therefore to preserve both, renounce your
sordid way of praising vice, and employ your happy talent in teaching
good manners, and correcting the bad, which will be an employment worthy
of your great genius, and is the only way to recommend you to the good
opinion of the learned ancients.
BOILEAU_’s Answer to_ JUVENAL.
_Illustrious Ghost_,
A messenger from the Muses never fill’d me with so much transport, as
the first sight of your letter; but I had not read six lines, before I
wish’d you had never done me that honour. To praise my _Satires_ and
fall foul upon my _Lutrin_ (which made me sweat more drops of water,
than your drunkard _St. Amant_ (since I must call him so) ever drank of
wine) is no favour. After many laborious and fruitless endeavours,
finding, to my great grief and distraction, I could not match you in
wit, I resolv’d if possible to out-do you in malice, which made me take
the liberty of romancing a little on _St. Amant_, falling foul upon
people’s characters and manners, and treating several scurvy poets more
roughly than you did the _Theseis_ of _Codrus_, when you sang,
_Semper ego auditor tantum nunquamne reponam?_
_Vexatus toties rauci Therseide Codri?_
Thus suffering the gall of my heart to flow thro’ the channel of my pen,
I procur’d myself enemies in abundance, and since I must confess all to
you, some stripes with a bull’s-pizzle, which was a most terrible
mortification to my shoulders; but I bore all this with the patience of
a philosopher, as will appear by the following lines.
_Let_ Codrus _that nauseous pretender to wit,_
_Condemn all my works before courtier and cit;_
_I bear all with patience, whatever he says,_
_And value as little his scandal as praise._
_Vain-glory no longer my genius does fire,_
_’Tis interest alone tunes the strings of my lyre._
_Integrity’s nought but a plausible sham,_
_For money I praise, and for money I damn._
_Old politic bards, for fame have no itching,_
_The_ Apollo _I court, is the steam of a kitchin_.
The four first lines, I must own, are something against the grain; and
the natural inclination I have to rail, and be thought an excellent
poet, gives my tongue the lie; but the four last, which shew more
prudence than wit, reconcile that matter. ’Tis certainly, illustrious
bard, more difficult to please the world now than it was in your time;
for if I write satire, I am beaten for it; if I praise, I am call’d a
mercenary flatterer, which so disheartens me, that I address myself now
to my Gardener only; and do not doubt but some busy nice critick will be
censuring this poem also. Not being in the best humour when I writ it,
perhaps it may appear something dark and abstruse; but I can easily
excuse that, by maintaining that ’tis impossible for the best author in
the world to keep up always to the same strain, Have you ever heard of
the tales of the _Peau d’Asne_, & _Grisedilis_? if _Proserpine_ had any
little children, ’twould be a most agreeable diversion for them, and I
wou’d send it ’em for a present. Tho’ that author furnishes you with
sufficient matter to laugh at me, yet I must confess he has found the
art of making something of a trifle. Every one here learns his verses by
heart; and in spight of my translation of _Longinus_, which makes it so
plainly appear, I understand _Greek_, and know something of poetry, my
book begins to be despis’d. Wou’d it not break a Man’s heart to see such
impertinent stuff preferr’d before so many sublime pieces? But, as for
your glory that will eternally subsist, and nothing can destroy it,
since time has not already done it.
DIANA _of_ Poictiers, _Mistress to_ HEN. II. _of_ France, _to Madam_
MAINTENON.
Since the spirit of curiosity possesses us here in this world, no less
than it did in your’s, ’tis an infinite trouble for those persons,
Madam, who were acquainted with every thing while they liv’d, not to
know all that passes after their death; and of this you’ll one day make
an experiment. I am not desirous to know, Madam, what you have done to
succeed the greatest beauties of the earth, in the affection of an old
libidinous monarch, nor what charms you make use of to secure the
possession of his heart, at an age you cannot please without a miracle.
My planet, dear Madam, has rendered me somewhat knowing in these
affairs, for _Henry_ II. was my gallant as long as he liv’d; and tho’ I
was little handsomer than you, I was not, I think, much younger. But I
must tell you, I cannot comprehend what procures you those loud
commendations and applauses which reach even to our ears, and are by
their noise most horribly offensive to us. The advantages of my birth
were great; and it is well known my charms so captivated _Francis_ I.
that they redeem’d my father from the gallows. I marry’d a very
considerable man, and the name of _Breze Reneschal_ of _Normandy_,
sounds somewhat better than that of _Scarron the queen’s ballad-maker_.
The house of _Poictiers_ too, from which I was descended, may surely
take place of those monarchs from whom that mercenary fellow _Boileau_
derives your extraction; and lastly, if I had a few particular enemies,
I did nothing to make myself generally odious. Yet for all this, I was
neither canoniz’d nor prais’d, but openly laugh’d at, and by one of my
own profession, I mean the duchess of _Estampe_, who was mistress to the
father of my lover, and said she was born on my wedding-day. Blundering
impudent _Bayard_ was banish’d for speaking too freely of me; and tho’
it was said, _That for me alone beauty had the privilege not to grow
old_, the compliment was so forc’d, that I was little the better for it.
Ragged _Marot_ was the only poet that ever pretended to couple rhimes in
my praise; and I will appeal to you if he did not deserve to go naked.
_I dare not, (were’t to save my ransom)_
_Affirm your ladyship is handsome;_
_Nor, without telling monstrous lyes,_
_Defend the lightning of your eyes;_
_For, Madam, to declare the truth,_
_You’ve neither face, nor shape, nor youth._
_Howe’er, all flattery apart,_
_You’ve plaid your cards with wond’rous art._
_When young, no lover saw your charms._
_Or press’d you in his eager arms:_
_But triumphs your old age attend,_
_And you begin where others end._
What think you, Madam, of this, is it not rather satire than praise?
Shou’d the bard, that sings your virtues from the top of _Parnassus_
down to the market-place, be as sincere, how wou’d you reward him? Tho’
I know he has more prudence, yet I cannot believe he compares you to
_Helen_ for beauty, to _Hebe_ for youth, for chastity to _Lucretia_, for
courage to _Clelia_, and for wisdom to _Minerva_, as common report says;
because, were it true, it is not to be suppos’d you would have but a
poor deform’d poet in possession of such mighty treasures. For were
there not scepters and crowns then enticing? Were not then the eyes of
princes open? Did you chuse an author for your love, out of caprice or
despair? Did you take his wicker-chair for a throne? Or did the love of
philosophy draw you in? Had the latter wrought upon you, you would not
have been the first, I must confess; for the famous _Hirparchia_,
handsome, young, and rich, preferr’d poor crooked _Crates_ before the
wealthiest and most beautiful gentleman of _Greece_. I am unwilling to
judge uncharitably, but I cannot be perswaded that such an alliance
could be contracted without some pressing necessity. When I reflect on
the beginning, increase, and circumstances of your fortune, I am
astonish’d? for neither your hair, which was grey when you began to
grow in favour; nor the remembrance of [33] a vestal once adorned; nor
the idea of a [34] blooming beauty, whom cruel death suddenly snatch’d
away by the help of a little poison; nor the presence of a [35] rival,
by so much the more dangerous, because she had triumph’d over several
others, could prove any obstacles to your prosperity. The beautiful lady
that brought you out of your mean obscurity; and in whose service you
thought yourself happy, is now content if you let her enjoy the least
shew of her former greatness. In this Chaos I lose myself, Madam; but if
you will bring me out of my confusion, I faithfully promise to give you
an exact account of all that concerns me, when I shall have the pleasure
of embracing you. I exceedingly commend your prudent conduct; for those
young plants you cultivate in a [36] terrestial paradice, will one day
produce flowers to crown you; and the zeal you profess for a religion
which began to act furiously in my time, must stop the mouths of the
nicest bigots, and make the tribunal of confession favourable to you;
tho’ perhaps, dear Madam, it may make that of _Minos_ a little more
severe.
_Madam_ MAINTENON_’s Answer to_ DIANA _of_ Poictiers.
Curiosity, Madam, being the character of the great and busy, I will
answer you according to your merit and birth, tho’ you have not treated
me so, since you know what charms a lover when youth is gone; I will
dismiss that point to come to the history of my life, and the virtuous
actions I am prais’d for. I know you are of an antient family, that you
marry’d a man of power and riches; and that you were _Francis_ the
First’s bedfellow, before his son fell in love with you. As for me, I
was born in the [37] new world, under a favourable constellation; and
the offspring of a Jaylor’s daughter, with whom my father, tho’ of royal
blood, was oblig’d, either thro’ love, or rather necessity, to cohabit.
Fortune, which never yet forsook me, first deprived me of my beggarly
relations, without leaving me wherewithal to cover my nakedness, and
then brought me into _Europe_, where I found a great many lovers, and
few husbands. Poor deform’d _Scarron_ at last offer’d me his hand; I had
my reasons for accepting him, and his infirmities did not hinder me from
receiving that title which was convenient for one in my circumstances.
In short, I lost him without much concern; and liv’d so prudently during
my widowhood, that Madam _Montespan_ took me out of my cell, to bring me
into the intrigues of the court. Every one knows I drove my generous
patroness from the royal bed; and that since my being in favour, I have
been profusely liberal to all my idolaters. Our poets, who do not
resemble _Marot_, value not honour, provided they have good pensions,
which I generously bestow on them, and they repay me in panegyricks; by
which means I am handsome, young, chaste, virtuous, wise, and of as
noble blood as _Alexander_ the Great. Tho’ I was a Protestant, the
church is not so foolish as to enquire into my religion, thus out of a
principle of gratitude, and to fix her in my interest, I have fill’d the
heart of our monarch with the godly zeal of persecution. I have also
founded a stately [38] edifice, where I breed up a great many pretty
young virgins, who, no doubt on’t, will prove as modest and discreet as
their founder; and I play so well the part of a queen, that the world
thinks me so in reality. These few hints may give you some light into my
history, Madam, therefore to reward my sincerity, if you find _Minos_
dispos’d to use me severely, prepare him, I beseech you, to be more
favourable.
HUGH SPENCER _the younger, Minion of_ EDWARD II. _to all the
Favourites and Ministers whom it may concern_.
Let all those that are ambitious of the title of favourite learn by the
history of my life, how dangerous a folly it is to monopolize their
prince’s smiles. A man climbs to the top of this slippery ascent thro’ a
thousand difficulties; and if he is not moderate in his prosperity,
(which few are) he often falls with a more precipitated shame into
disgrace. I acquir’d, or rather usurp’d, the favour of _Edward_ II. in
whose breast the proud _Gaveston_ had before me licentiously revell’d.
To effect this, my father lent me his helping hand; but without growing
wiser by the examples of others, the vanity of my ambition made me
follow that wandring star, call’d fortune. I no sooner had possess’d
myself of the king’s ear, but I crept into the secrets of his heart, and
infected it with the blackest venom of mine; acting the part of a
self-interested, not an honest minister. As I valued not the glory of
his reign, or ease of his people, provided I governed him, and render’d
myself master of his treasures; so did I never move him to relieve the
miserable, or reward the faithful and deserving, but endeavour’d to
blacken the merit of their greatest actions, and so settled the first
motions of his liberality, with reasons of sordid interest. If any
places of trust were to be fill’d, covering my treachery still with the
veil of zeal and love for my country, I recommended only such as were
devoted to my service; pretending ill management in every thing that
went not thro’ my hands; and that the nation was betray’d, whilst I,
like some of you now, was selling it, and was in reality the worst enemy
it had. After I had sacrific’d the great duke of _Lancaster_ to my
revenue, and a hundred persons of quality besides, I sow’d discord in
the royal family, The queen, with the prince of _Wales_ her son, and the
earl of _Kent_, the king’s brother, retir’d into _France_; during which
time I govern’d at my ease, wallow’d in luxury and riches, and had
interest enough to hinder _Charles_ the Fair from protecting his sister.
The Pope, who was of my religion, storm’d like a true father, son of the
church, and so frighted the king of _France_, that in spite of their
nearness of blood, he hunted the queen of _England_ out of his
dominions. But at last the king being reconciled, the queen returns; I
was taken prisoner, and by the laws of the kingdom, sentenc’d to be
drawn on a sledge, at sound of trumpet, thro’ the streets of _Hereford_.
The circumstances of my death were infamous; my head was expos’d at
_London_, my bowels, heart, and some others parts of body burn’d, my
carcass abandon’d to the crows, in four parts of the kingdom; the
justest reward a villain, who had almost destroy’d both king and country
cou’d expect. This is, gentlemen, favourites and ministers, a picture
you ought all to have in your closets, to keep you from resembling it.
When in favour, banish not justice, clemency and generosity, from the
thrones of your master; and to avoid a just hatred, and make men of
virtue your friends, study the publick interest. Turn over old histories
and you’ll find there is scarce one, or few of us, got peaceably to the
grave, but either starv’d or rotted, or immortaliz’d a gibbet. Not one
eye ever wept for our sufferings, pity itself rejoiced. Thus detested on
earth, and curs’d by heaven, our last refuge is to become the prey of
devils. Consider well, gentlemen, and arm yourselves against all those
vicious passions, which will certainly undo you, if you listen to them
as I did. Therefore in the slippery paths of a court, take prudence and
justice for your supports.
_The Answer of the Chief Ministers of the King of_ Iveter _to_ HUGH
SPENCER.
The picture you have drawn of your life and death, shews you were
notoriously wicked, and rewarded according to your deserts. But let me
tell you, Sir, that ’tis a great mistake to believe a minister cannot
manage or steer his prince, without abusing him and the publick. Because
you were the horror of your age, is it an inevitable destiny for other
favourites to be so too? I will not here make my own panegyrick, but
leave that care to posterity: However, I will boldly maintain, that to
suffer a master to divide his benevolence, when one can secure it all to
ones self, is folly and stupidity. A prudent man knows how to make a
right use of his master’s weakness; and if he finds him inclin’d now and
then to gratify eminent services, he will not seem much averse to it,
provided still he loses nothing by the bargain: But if his prince is of
a covetous temper, charity, which always begins at home, then bids him
shut up his _Exchequer_, and reserve to himself the sole privilege of
opening it at leisure. ’Tis likewise no ill step in our politicks to cry
down those actions, which might otherwise by their weight out-value
ours: Upon such occasions to testify the least zeal, fidelity and care,
will be thought meritorious. Tho’ the escutcheons we leave our children,
have some blots in them, what signifies that, provided we leave them
rich and noble titles, which will procure them honour, and all sorts of
pleasures in this world, and a saint’s place hereafter, in that
uncertain volume of the _Roman Almanack_.
JULIA _to the Princess of_ CONTI.
As you may wonder, madam, that I who lived so many ages ago, and at
present am so many thousand leagues from you, should esteem and love
you; might I wonder too, in my turn, if you should have a good opinion
of me, after so many historians have conspired to blacken my reputation.
But there are, dear sister, such circumstances in our fortunes, as ought
to make us love one another, and hold a friendly correspondence; since
you are like me, the daughter of a beautiful, treacherous prince, who
drags good fortune at his heels; and of a mother who renounced the world
before it did her the injury of renouncing her. I was once the ornament
of the court of _Augustus_, and you now shine like a star, in that of
_Lewis_ XIV. I was marry’d very young to _Marcellus_, the hopes of the
_Romans_; and almost in your infancy, you were given to the most amiable
man that ever was of the _Bourbons_: I lost the son of _Octavia_ some
months after our marriage, and your forehead was bound with the fatal
sable, before _Hymen_’s garlands were in the least withered; you are
handsome, I was not ugly; you occasion jealousy, and I suffer’d the
sharpest darts of destruction: I had lovers beyond number; and who is
able to reckon your’s? They have not perhaps been so favourably
received; and I believe the air, and want of opportunity, not our
inclinations, to be the cause, for you never yet despis’d those
pleasures I daily enjoy’d and sigh’d after; and tho’ by the death of
_Agrippa_, I came under the tyranny of _Tiberius_, I pursu’d my
inclinations to the last. Widows of your age generally enter the list
again: But, princess, the counsel I have to give you, is, to reserve to
yourself the liberty of your choice. There are so many _Tiberius_’s
where you are, that one may easily fall to your share, and after that
nothing but banishment will be wanting to finish the comparison. A very
malignant [39] planet at present commands your destiny; and ’tis in vain
to expect justice from that jealous, ill-natur’d fury. Now I have given
you advice, which, if I could return into the world, I would follow
myself, permit me to justify my actions.
Historians tell you, I endeavoured to reign in every heart, whatever it
cost me, without any regard to the owner’s birth and condition: But do
you think that so very criminal? Does a little kindness deserve so
severe a censure? Must persons of quality be always oblig’d to have an
eye on their dignity? and did not he that made the prince, make the
coachman? But what I cannot with patience suffer, is the impudent lie
some have made concerning _Ovid_; that versifyer had a nicer fancy in
poetry than beauty; like your father, _My dear sister_, he imagin’d
wonderful charms in grey hairs; for _Marcellus_ was but newly dead when
he fell in love with _Livia_. ’Twas her he celebrated under the feigned
name of _Corinna_; and when he pleas’d, disciplin’d, she, like a child
not daring to resist. Thus people being ignorant of closer privacies,
invent malicious lies; for do you suppose I would have suffer’d such
insolent usage? And that if I had not been strong enough to have cuff’d
that rhiming puppy, I would not have found out some other way to have
been even with him? You very well see my reasons have some appearance of
truth, and I am confident, that when we meet we shall agree very well.
The emperor who had his private amours, never troubled those of his
wife; and _Merena_’s spouse, proud of possessing the affections of so
great a monarch, returned in soft embraces the favours bestowed on her
husband. I have insensibly made you an ingenuous consession; do you the
same, madam, for hell is so damnable tiresome, that I gape and stretch a
thousand times an hour. When your hand is in, pray send me word what
they are doing in your part of the world; but above all, give me a true
account of your amours and conquests; for those relations tickle us,
even when we have lost the power of acting. Therefore to invite you to
be very plain with me, as likewise to divert myself in my present
melancholy moments, I will give you some of my thoughts in metre, such
as it is.
_A mighty monarch you begot,_
_Who’s pious as the devil;_
_Your mother too, by all is thought,_
_To be extreamly civil._
_Descending from so bright a pair,_
_You both their gifts inherit;_
_All your great father’s virtue share,_
_And all your mother’s merit._
_When I was young and gay like you,_
_I lov’d my recreation_;
Mamma’s _dear steps I did pursue,_
_And balk’d no inclination_.
_And, madam, when your charms are gone,_
_Your lovers will forsake you;_
_They’ll cry your sporting days are done,_
_And bid old_ Pluto _take you_.
_Thus I have given all trading o’er._
_And wisely left off sporting;_
_Resolv’d to practise it no more,_
_After my reign of courting._
As reproaching and talking freely is not here discouraged; so had I done
any lewd trick, your confessor wou’d have acquainted you with it; for he
keeps a strict correspondence with the chiefest ministers of our
monarch. You have been jealous where you ought not, and the saints of
_St. Germains_ and _Versailles_, when they come to discover the mystery
of your curiosity, will never forgive you. The mealy mouth’d Goddess was
always easy to be corrupted, and the old monster Envy prospers but too
much; therefore take care of one, and prevent the other, that the sins
of others may not be imputed to you. All that the world can say against
your virtue, shall never diminish my good opinion of it; and if you do
not believe the character I give of myself, consult [40] _Calprinede_,
who has drawn me to the life, and was a great master in that way, as
_Apelles_ in his. Farewel, fair princess, and remember that _Julia_
languishes with desire to see you.
_The Princess of_ CONTI_’s Answer to_ JULIA.
I did not expect to be honoured with a letter from so famous a princess
as _Julia_: This makes my joy so much the greater. I do sincerely
declare, that I take all you say to me so reasonable, that I can do no
less than applaud it: And I further assure you, that I never search’d
for your character in those disobliging authors who magnify the lest
false step, and make an elephant of a mouse. I am satisfy’d to know you,
as I find you in _Calprinede_; and the complaisance he pretends you had
for _Ovid_, does not hinder me from having a great affection for your
amiable qualities; and believing as advantageously of your modesty as
you can desire. I am not so severe as to imagine a little indulgence can
be a greater crime; but think those who will, for a little natural
civility, ruin the reputation of courteous ladies, to be malicious
people, only envying those gallantries which are addressed to others.
But, madam, you have strangely surprized me with what you tell me of
_Livia_; for I always believed, that when old ambition was her only
blind side; but am astonished to hear she was amorous. This discovery
confirms the received opinion, that old age has a wanton inclination, as
well as youth, tho’ not so much ability; and since the wife of _Cæsar_
lov’d the language of the muses, I am not astonished that our saints of
St. _Cyril_ have been charm’d with it. But, dear madam, is it certain
that _Ovid_ disciplin’d her like a child; I thought the _Roman_ ladies
had not wanted that exercise; and I believe my gallants will never be
obliged to come to that extremity with me. I need not use much
precaution against the folly of a second marriage; for tho’ I was
coupled to a very charming young man, yet I soon found my expectations
bilk’d, because the name of husband and wife, and thoughts of duty so
lessened the pleasures of our softest embraces, that it made them
odious. So that now I only love a spouse for a night, from whom I may be
divorced the next morning; and this perhaps, you’ll find more plainly
expressed in the following lines, as I doubt not, dearest sister, but
you have made the experiment.
_Your tender girls, when first their hands,_
_Are join’d in_ Hymen_’s magick bands._
_Fondly believe they shall maintain_
_A long, uninterrupted reign:_
_But to their cost, too soon they prove,_
_That marriage is the bane of love._
_That phantom_, duty, _damps its fire._
_And clips the wings of fierce desire._
_But lovers in a different strain_
_Express, as well as ease their pain:_
_Ever smiling, ever fair,_
_To please us is their only care,_
_And as their flame finds no decay,_
_They only covet we should pay_
_In the same coin, and that you know,_
_Is always in our pow’r to do._
And will be always so, illustrious princess, to our great comfort and
satisfaction. You have heard, I suppose, what the writing of a few
letters has cost me; so that I have laid aside all commerce of that
nature at present, and am often oblig’d to trifle my thoughts. Had I not
fear’d _Mercury_’s being searched, I would have opened my heart a little
more to you; but if the times ever change, or madam _Maintenon_, the
governess of _Versailles_, becomes less inquisitive, you may certainly
expect to receive an epistle, or rather a volume from me.
I put no confidence in the king my father, and he is so jealous of me,
that should he pack up his awls for the other world, I wou’d not trust
him. I pity you for being kept so close, and having so bad company.
That you may yawn and stretch less, and laugh a little more, entertain
yourself with _la Fontain_’s tales, or the school of _Venus_, both
excellent books in their kind, which I am confident will extreamly
divert you; not so much upon the account of their novelty, as by
recalling to your mind some past actions of your life.
For my part, I highly esteem them both, and you’ll oblige by telling the
author so.
DIONYSIUS _the Younger, to the Flatterers of what Degree or Country
soever_.
Tho’ the torments I now suffer for my former tyrannies, are as great as
they are just; yet you cursed villains, deserve much greater, for being
the promoters of them. You, with your infernal praises, blind the eyes
of princes, and hurry them on headlong to their ruin: therefore I charge
you with all the ill actions of my reign. I was no sooner seated on my
throne, but you so swell’d me with pride, by applauding all my
perjuries, oppressions and cruelties, that I believ’d it lawful for our
race to be tyrants, from father to son, with impunity. Every one knows
my father was equally wicked and covetous, neither sparing, or fearing
men or Gods; and of this _Jupiter_ and _Æsculapius_ are examples. In a
fit of impiety, till then unpractised by the most desperate villains, he
stripp’d the first of his golden mantle, excusing it with this jest,
_That ’twas too hot for the summer, and too cold for the Winter_. To the
second he turn’d barber and cut off his golden beard, which with great
devotion had been presented to him, alledging, _It was improper for the
son, since his father_ Apollo _went without one_. When his conduct had
thus render’d him odious to the world he thought it necessary to make
himself secure; for which end, he ordered a large deep ditch to be dug
about his palace; but that was no fortification against fear, which
could creep in at every key-hole; and his distrust increased to that
degree, that he suspected his nearest relations. Not so much as a
_Maintenon_ came near him. At last his guards to oblige the world, cut
his throat, and sent his soul as a harbinger to the Devil, to provide
room for his body; and the people thinking me to be a much honester man,
without difficulty plac’d me on his throne. But I soon took care to
convince these credulous sots, that a worse was come in his room, far
exceeding him in cruelty, I endeavoured to secure my throne by actions
then unknown to the world. _First_, I caused my brothers to be put to
death, and when I had glutted myself with the blood of these victims, I
made no scruple to violate the laws, and trample upon all the just
rights and liberties of my people. By those and a thousand other
barbarities, tiring the patience of the _Syracusans_, they drove me into
_Italy_, where the _Locrians_ kindly received me: and I to requite them
for their civility, ravish’d their women, murder’d numbers of their
citizens, and pillag’d their country. At last, by a now contrived
treachery, I re-entered _Syracuse_, with design to revenge myself by new
desolations; but _Dion_ and _Timolion_, much honester men than either
myself or you, prevented me by putting me a second time to flight. ’Twas
my destiny, and I wonder historians do not add the epithet of coward, to
my just name of tyrant. I then retired to _Corinth_, where in a short
time my misery became so pressing, that I was forc’d to turn bum-brusher
in my own defence, a condition which best suited with a man that
delighted in tyranny and blood; and as I had been one of _Pluto_’s
disciples, I taught a sort of philosophy which I had learned, but never
practised. Thus was my throne turn’d into a desk; and my scepter into a
ferula. Heavens! what a shameful metamorphosis was this. But, gentlemen
sycophants, with a murrian to you, I may thank you for it. You, like the
_Cameleon_, can put on any colour, can turn vice into virtue, and virtue
into vice, to deceive your masters; and under the specious pretence of
religion can commit the greatest barbarities. But tho’ under the shelter
of that reverend name, you think all your iniquities undiscovered, so
you possess your prince with the abominable zeal of persecution; yet
heaven sees and detests your hypocrisy, and even men at long-run,
discover the cheat. Oh! ye unworthy enemies of virtue, whose only aim is
to raise your own fortunes upon the ruin of others. How useful are you
to the Devil? You matter it not, provided you compass your desired
ends; if we lay waste the universe, and afterwards become the hate and
scorn of all mankind: As for example, ’tis long of you that I have been
a pedant in _Greece_, and that [41] one of my rank, had he not been
taken to rest, would have been forced to cover his follies under a
stinking cowl, in the lousy convent of _la Trape_. You will not fail, I
know, to applaud all his actions, and say, if he lost all, ’twas only
for obliging his subjects to take the true road to heaven, and give the
title of resignation to meer necessity and compulsion. But is it a
sacrifice to renounce thro’ despair, the grandeur we cannot maintain any
longer? Is it not rather imitating the _animal in the fable_, that
despises the grapes which are out of his reach? But I waste my lungs in
vain, and talk to the deaf: however, if I have been humbled, believe
that you will not always be exalted. ’Tis my comfort that you will one
day be condemned to turn a wheel like _Ixion_, to roll stones like
_Sysiphus_, to be devoured like _Prometheus_, continually thirsty like
_Tantalus_, and to heighten your evils, that you will never lose the
remembrance of those villanies you committed.
_The Answer of the_ News-Mongers _to Young_ DIONYSIUS.
The flatterers have done you too much honour, Mr. _Pedant_, and shou’d
they believe you, and turn honest, (of which I think there is no great
danger) and perswade their masters to be just to their oaths and
treaties, wou’d not they govern in peace and unity? And wou’d not that
very thing cast the world into such a drowsy tranquility, that it wou’d
be melancholy living in it, and starve millions of all degrees and
professions, who now, lord it very handsomely? We, I’m sure, shou’d be
first sensible of it, by having no variety of news to stuff our _London
Gazettes_, _Mercuries_ and _Slips_ with; which wou’d make the
booksellers withdraw our stipends, and by consequence oblige us to leave
off tipping the generous juice of the grape, and content ourselves with
Geneva, or some more phlegmatick manufacture. Therefore keep your
harangues for your school-boys, and do not maliciously take our daily
bread from us, and seek to ruin those complaisant persons, that can
condescend to sooth the vanities and inclinations of their princes. But
to dismiss this point, and return to yourself; ’tis plain you have not a
jot of honour about you, since you pay no regard to your father’s
reputation. We easily perceive you have been a _pedagogue_ by your
tattling; which indiscretion makes you unworthy the title of great
_Pluto_’s disciple. But has your pedantick majesty no better rewards to
bestow on gentlemen of courtly breeding than wheels, vultures,
millstones, and an eternal thirst? Truly ’tis very liberal, and
school-master like in every respect; but you are desired to keep those
mighty blessings for yourself, who deserve them much better than any one
else; and if you were cullied by those about you, talk no more on’t, but
keep your weakness to yourself.
CHRISTIANA, _Queen of_ SWEDEN, _to the Ladies_.
That I, who never testify’d much esteem for the fair sex, should at this
time address myself to them, will without doubt be thought strange; but
if necessity breaks laws, it ought also to cancel aversion, and excuse
me for seeking protection amongst a sex I have so often despised, being
compelled to it by a thousand injuries done to my memory. Therefore I
now ask pardon of the ladies; and am perswaded I do them no little
honour, (since there has seldom been a more extraordinary woman than I
was) in owning myself one of the female kind. _First_, I may boast of
all the advantage of a glorious birth, being daughter of the _Great
Gustavus Adolphus_, who did not only fill the north, but all the
universe with admiration; and of _Mary Elianor_ of _Brandenburgh_, the
worthy wife of such a husband. If I was not as handsome as _Helen_, and
those other beauties, whom the poets have from age to age recorded in
the book of fame, yet all the world own’d me a woman of incomparable
parts. I was queen at five years of age, and even so early took upon me
that important trust, which but few men are capable to discharge, and
which fewer would covet, if they knew the troubles that attend it; yet I
supported the weight of all affairs with such a grace and prudence, that
my crown did not seem too heavy for me. As soon as reason had made me
sensible of my power, my only thoughts were how to make myself worthy of
it. To this end, I invited to my court those I thought the most capable
of improving it; which was no sooner known by the beggary _French_, but
_Stockholm_ swarm’d with masters of all sciences. Among the rest I had a
pack of hungry poets; but he that took the most pains, was not the best
rewarded, because he did not resemble _Boileau_, who can in half an hour
make a saint of a devil. In my green years, I seem’d only addicted to
grandeur and virtue; for I studied like a doctor, argued like a
philosopher, and gave lessons of morality to the most learned; so that
every body imagin’d I should eclipse the most famous _heroines_. But I
had not yet heard the voice of a certain deity, whose language I no
sooner understood, but it poison’d all my former good dispositions; for
whereas till then I had been charm’d with the conversation of the dead,
I began now to have passionate inclinations for the living. But not to
undeceive the world, which thought my conduct blameless, I was forc’d to
put a curb to my desires, or at least to pursue them with more
precaution, whether the trouble to find myself so inclin’d, or my
grandeur, which wou’d not allow of those liberties I sigh’d for, oblig’d
me to punish the flatterers of my passion, I know not; but I committed
many barbarities. As my desires were insatiable, so ’twas not in my
power to confine them; and this gave my subjects too many opportunities
to discover several indecencies in my management; and because I wou’d
not be tumbled headlong from my throne by them, I very prudently
condescended, and put my cousin _Charles Adolphus_ in my place. Then did
I, under pretence of visiting the beauties of _France_, take large doses
of those joys I durst no longer take at _Stockholm_. I was treated every
where as a queen, had palaces at my command, and I made at
_Fountainbleau_, which was before a bawdy-house, a slaughter-house also
before I left it.
_Fate justly reached the prattling fool,_
_For telling stories out of school._
_Was’t not enough I stoop’d so low,_
_On him m’affection to bestow?_
_To clasp him in my circling arms,_
_And feast him with love’s choicest charms;_
_But must the babbling fool proclaim,_
_His queen’s infirmity and shame?_
_Of all the sins on this side hell,_
_The blackest sure’s to kiss and tell._
_’Tis silence best becomes delight,_
_And hides the revels of the night._
_If then my spark has met his due,_
_For bringing sacred mysteries to view._
_E’en let him take it for his pains,_
_And curse his want of gratitude and brains._
But I know not whether the monarch of _France_ had long ears like his
brother _Midas_, or some little familiar whisper’d it in his ear; but
what I thought could never be detected, was publickly discoursed at
court. Perceiving this, I resolved on a voyage to _Rome_, and the
rather, because I thought the _Romish_ religion most commodious for a
woman of inclinations, and that it would illustrate my history, to
abjure the opinion of _Luther_ at the feet of the pope; tho’ I had as
little believed and followed the doctrine of the _Reformed_, as I have
since the absurdities of the _Roman_ church. _Italy_ seem’d to me a
paradice, and I thought my past troubles fully recompensed, when I found
myself in that famous city, which has been the mistress of this world,
without subjects to controul me; saucy chattering _Frenchmen_ to revile
me, and amongst a mixture of strangers, which made all my actions pass
unregarded. ’Twas enough for me to be esteemed a saint, that I was
turn’d Papist in a place where debauchery is tolerated; and you’ll find
me, perhaps, one day canonized by the _Roman_ clergy. ’Tis true, I was
not so rigorous to them as others for the pope, cardinals, legates,
bishops, abbots, priests, and monks, composed my court, where
licentiousness reign’d most agreeably. Not that I had renounced the
company of young virgins; for I was intimate enough with some of them,
to have it said, I was of the humour of _Sappho_; and as I liv’d at
_Rome_, so I thought myself obliged to practise their manners. But the
chief reason of my writing, is to desire you to protect me against those
ignorant coxcombs, who endeavour to put me among the number of the
foolish virgins; for I began and finished my course, as I have told you,
and will now leave you, to judge if there can be any probability in such
a scandalous story. My good friend the pope, to whom I had been
wonderfully civil, solemnly swore, that whenever I left this world, I
mould not languish in Purgatory, tho’ he knew very well I should go to
another place. But as it was the promise of a tricking _Jesuit_, so I
did not much credit it, nor was much surpriz’d to see myself turn’d into
a sty, among a company of boars and old lascivious goats, a sort of
animals I had formerly been well acquainted with at my palace in _Rome_,
and who came then grunting and leaping to embrace me. I cannot in this
place hear of the poor gentleman whom I murthered; I asked one of my
he-companions concerning him, who knows no more of him than I do;
therefore I verily believe he is among the martyrs.
_The Answer of a young_ Vestal _to the_ Queen.
Good Heavens! Madam, how piously did your majesty begin your letter! and
what pleasure did I take to see such hopeful dispositions to virtue! But
what was that enchanting vice that put you out of the good road? Was it
the Devil? If so, why did you not make use of holy-water? For we, poor
creatures, oppose no other buckler against the darts of _Satan_, when he
conjures up the frailty of the flesh to disturb us: but I beg your
pardon, you were then a _Lutheran_, and holy-water has no efficacy, but
only for true _Catholicks_. My confessor has so often preached charity
to me, that I cannot but bewail the fate of the poor gentleman you lov’d
so dearly, and treated so barbarously. Oh, my dear St. _Francis_! What
sort of love was that! And how unfortunate are those precious souls that
have parts of pleasing you! One may very well perceive, by that piece
of barbarity, you neither believed Purgatory, or fear’d Hell; and I
would not have been guilty of such an action for all your excellent
qualities and grandeur. I hear you talk’d of sometimes, and in such a
manner, that it makes me often sigh, pant, and pull down my veil; and I
feel a terrible fit coming upon me by reading your confession.
_Madam, I much rejoice to hear,_
_You’ll take a stone up in your ear;_
_For I’m a frail transgressor too,_
_And I we the sport as well as you,_
_But then I chuse to do the work._
_Within the pale of holy kirk:_
_For absolution cures the scars_ }
_Contracted in venereal wars,_ }
_And saves our sex a world of prayers._}
_Had you this ghostly counsel taken,_
_You might till now have sav’d your bacon._
_’Tis safe intriguing with a flamen_ }
_Who sanctifies their work with Amen,_ }
_Then who would trust ungodly laymen?_ }
_Do, Madam, as you please, but I_ }
_None but with priesthood will employ,_ }
_With them I’ll live, with them I’ll die._}
_Who like the_ Pelion _spear are sure,_
_With the same ease they wound to cure_.
But ’tis easy to judge your conscience is as large as the sleeve of a
[42] _Cordelier_, since you began in the spirit, and ended in the flesh.
Notwithstanding what I have merrily own’d in rhime, more to entertain
your majesty, than express my true sentiments, there are certain hours
when I could willingly follow your example; and if you would obtain from
the holy father a dispensation of my vows, which now grow burthensome to
me, I would break a lance in your quarrel: this I am sure of, that the
world will think it less strange to see a nun renounce her convent, than
a queen her crown.
FRANCIS RABLAIS, _to the_ Physicians _of_ Paris.
It is in vain for your flatterers to cry you up for able doctors, for
you will never arrive at my knowledge; and I am asham’d every hour to
hear such asses are admitted into the college. Do not believe ’tis a
sensible vanity that induces me to say this, but the perfect knowledge I
have of my own worth; and tho’ I was design’d for a more lazy
profession, yet that does not in the least diminish my merit. You know I
was born at _Chinon_, and that my parents, hoping I should one day make
a precious saint, put me, in my foolish infancy, into a convent of
_Cordeliers_: but that greasy habit, in a little time, seem’d to me as
heavy and uneasy as the armour of a giant; so that by intercession made
to Pope _Clement_ VII. I was permitted to change my grey frock for a
black; so I quitted the equipage of St. _Francis_ for that of St.
_Benedict_, and that I was as weary of in a short time as of the other.
As I had learnt a great deal of craft, and but little religion, during
my noviciate in those good schools, so I found a way to get loose from
that cloyster for ever, and took to the study of _Hippocrates_. Besides
that I had a subtle and clear genius; my comrades discover’d in me an
acute natural raillery, which made me acceptable to the best companions,
Cardinal _Bellay_, who made me his physician, took me to _Rome_ with him
in that quality, where the sanctity of the triple crown, the ador’d
slipper, and all-opening key, could not hinder me from jesting in the
presence of his holiness. ’Twas _Paul_ III. before called _Alexander
Fernese_, who then fill’d the apostolical chair, and was more remarkable
for his lewdness than piety. I had the good fortune to please him with
the inclination he found in me to lewdness; and he gave me a bull of
absolution for my apostacy, free from all fee and duties, which I think
was a gracious reward for a foreign, atheistical buffoon. After I had
compil’d a catalogue of his vices, to make use of as I should find an
opportunity, the cardinal, my patron, return’d to _Paris_, and I with
him, where he immediately gratify’d me with a canonship of St. _Maur_,
and the benefice of _Meudon_. Hiving all I could desire, I liv’d
luxuriously; and the love of satire pleasing me much more than the
service of God, after I had wrote several things without success, for
the learned, I composed the history of _Gargantua_ and _Pantagruel_; for
the ignorant, things which some call a cock and a bull, and others the
product of a lively imagination. I know most men understand them as
little as they do _Arabick_; and as it is not to our present purpose, so
do not I intend to explain that stuff to them, but will now, since ’tis
more _a propos_, give you some advice concerning the malady of your
blustering monarch. The residence I made at the court of _France_, in
the reign of _Francis_ I. makes me more bold in judging of the nature of
those distempers. You conceal the virulency of _Lewis_ XIVth’s disease,
because you dare not examine into the bottom of the cause, and are more
modest in proposing remedies, than he has been in contracting the
distemper. Yet every one talks according to his interest, and the
news-mongers always keep a blank to set down the manner of his death. If
he does not tremble, he must be thorow-pac’d in iniquity, for he has
several reckonings to make up with Heaven, which are not so easily
adjusted; and as he has often affronted the majesty of several popes, he
will scarce obtain a pass-port to go scot-free into the other world. We
are told here, by some of his good friends, he begins to putrify, and
has ulcers a yard in length, where vermin, very soldier like, intrench
themselves. There is no other remedy for this, according to old
_Æsculapius_, but to make him a new man, by a severe penitential
pilgrimage into some of the provinces of _Mercury_ and _Turpentine_. If
he still fears the danger of war, let him go in disguise; and if at this
age he cannot be without a she-companion, let him take his old friend
_Maintenon_ along with him, she is poison-proof, and may, to save
charges, serve him in three capacities, _viz._ as a bedfellow, nurse,
and guide; keep him also to a strict diet; scrape his bones, and purge
him thoroughly, and all may be found again but his conscience. You
cannot imagine how merrily we gentlemen of the faculty live at _Pluto_’s
court: I am secretary to the same _Paul_ III. who pardon’d me _gratis_
the violation of my vows, my irreverence for the church, and my want of
respect for him; _Scaramouch_ is his gentleman-usher, _Harlequin_ his
page, and _Scarron_ his poet laureat. Don’t suppose I was such a
blockhead as to kiss his sweaty toe, when I visited him in the
_Vatican_; he had nothing from me, but such an hypocritical hug, as your
monks give each other at the ridiculous ceremony of high-mass. This old
goat still keeps his amorous inclinations; and I, who have so often made
others blush, am often asham’d to hear his ribaldry. He would certainly
make love to _Proserpine_, but our sultan would not be pleas’d with his
courtship; and besides, his seraglio is as well guarded as the grand
seignior’s, otherwise we might have a litter of fine puppies betwixt
them. Little hump-shoulder’d _Luxembourg_, lately mareschal of _France_,
is the captain of her guards, and so damnably jealous, that he will not
suffer any to come near her; at which _Pluto_ is very well pleas’d, and
does not mistrust him, thinking it impossible for any body to be in love
with such a lump of deformity. But to return to our friend _Paul_, he
scorns to copy after the Devil, who turn’d hermit when he was old; and I
am now making another collection of his impieties and amours, which will
be ready to come out with a _Gazette Nostradamus_ he has been composing
since the year 1600. That sly conjurer is so earnest upon the matter,
that he lifts not up his head, tho’ _Pluto_’s black-guard boys are
continually burning brimstone under his nose. However, I do not know but
this mountain may bring forth a mouse; for to speak freely, I put as
little faith in those prophets, who, like sots, lose their reason in the
abyss of futurity, as the honest whigs of _England_ do in the oaths and
treaties of your swaggering master. As for you, brother doctor, cut,
scarify, blister, and glyster, since ’tis your profession; but take this
along with you, that they who do the least mischief, pass with me for
the ablest men. But I would advise you not to suffer any longer those
barbarous names of assassins, poisoners, closestool-mongers, factors of
death, _&c._ the world gives you. I have had high words with _Moliere_
on your account, and I expect that fine rhiming fellow, _Boileau_, will
give him a wipe over the nose in one of his satires. For tho’ I have
made bold to talk freely with you, yet I do not mean all the world
should take the same liberty.
_The Answer of Mr._ FAGON, _first Physician to_ LEWIS XIV. _to_
FRANCIS RABLAIS.
You are a very pretty gentleman, friend _Rablais_, to boast of yourself
so much, and value the rest of your fraternity so little. Do not you
know that I am of the tribe of _Judah_, and perhaps related to some of
the kings of _Israel_? Had you heard me preach in a synagogue, you wou’d
soon be convinc’d whether I am an illiterate fellow or no. Is it such an
honour to be of your college? Or wou’d it be any advantage to be like
you? You have been, by your own confession, a most horrid rake-hell; and
I would not, for all the mammon of unrighteousness in my king’s coffer,
transgress one point of the law. You ought not to be astonished at my
greatness, for I concern myself with more than one trade, and no man was
ever in such favour, and grew so rich, by only applying warm injections
to the backside. If you enjoy’d a prebend, and other benefices, you
must, I know, have assisted cardinal _Bellay_ in his amours. For my
part, I boast of having been a broker, sollicitor, and, under the rose,
_Billet-deux_ carrier and door-keeper, because all employments at court
are honourable, especially in that great concern of _S----y_. Do not
you think you were the first that thought of the remedy you speak of; we
had several learned consultations about it, but know not which way to
mention it, for Madam _Scarron_, who is very tender of her reputation,
and reigns sovereignly at court, will say we accuse her of bringing the
_Neapolitan_ distemper to _Versailles_, and have us sent to the gallies,
or hang’d for our good advice. I have often reflected on the scandalous
bantering stuff of those they call wits, have said, and do say of us;
and wish with all my heart, the first brimstone they take for the itch,
and mercury for the pox, may poison ’em; but for us to stir in’t, would
bring ’em all about our ears; and we know the consequence of that from
a neighbouring [43] country, where they have mumbled a poor physician
[44], and one that can versify also, almost as severely as a troop of
hungry wolves would a fat ass. However, we thank you for your zeal; but
at the same time advise you not to make a quarrel for so small a
business; and I, in a particular manner, kiss your hand, and desire you
will give my service to _Nostradamus_. I cannot beat it out of my head,
but that he has put me into his [45] centuries; and that an ingenious
man might discover me there. I own ’tis looking for a needle in a bottle
of hay; but you know I sprung up like a mushroom, and that he foretels
nothing but prodigies.
_The Duchess of_ Fontagne _to the_ Cumean Sibyl.
I desir’d _Mercury_ to call, _en passant_, at your cave; and as he has
wings at his feet, and complaisance in heart, so he will, I don’t doubt,
go a little out of his way to oblige me, by delivering you this letter:
I have from my infancy had you in my mind, and heard my nurse, when I
lay squawling in shitten clouts in my cradle, tell frightful stories of
you. As soon as I began to prattle, my maids taught me to call all old
wrinkled women wither’d sibyls; and the idea of the den you were
confin’d in, fill’d me with fear. But since I have been inform’d of the
truth of your history, that fear is chang’d into veneration, and I now
look upon your cell as a sacred place. To assure you of my respect and
the confidence I repose in you, I will consult you about some future
events, and tell you one part of my griefs. I am nobly born, handsome
and young enough to inspire and receive the softest love. The _French_
king, who had spoil’d the shape, and wore out the charms of several
mistresses, long before I appear’d at his court, had a mind to do the
same by me. Being naturally proud and wanton, and tempted by the fine
compliments of a great and vigorous prince, and title of duchess, (a
temptation none of us women can resist) I soon yielded to his desires;
which so mortify’d the haughty _Montespan_, that she, with a ragoo
_a-la-mode d’Espagne_, dispatch’d me out of the world, before I could
get a true taste of greatness, or the pleasures of a royal bed. Alas!
What a mighty difference there is between you and me; your years are
innumerable; you are still mentioned in history; your voice still
remains, and you enjoy the divine faculty of prediction; but I was
murther’d in my bloom, when ripe and juicy as the luscious grape; and
that ungrateful perjur’d man, who rifled my virgin treasures, has not so
much as thought or spoke of me since. He dotes on nothing but old age;
and could you appear in something more solid than air, I do not doubt
but he’d make his addresses to you: I believe his being born with teeth
presag’d he would always be a tyrant to his people, and in his latter
days the cully of such a tough piece of carrion as Mrs. _Maintenon_.
_Morbleu!_ Have I barbarously been sacrific’d; and must a miss of
threescore and fifteen live unpunish’d, and be treated better than I was
in the greatest heighth of that prince’s passion, and warmth of my
desires, when capable both of receiving and giving joy? It really
distracts me! And I conjure you, in the name of _Apollo_, who never
refus’d you any thing, to let me know by one of your oracles, if I shall
never return to _France_ again. You came hither, I know, with the brave
_Æneas_, (but stay’d no longer than you lik’d the place) and I have
heard some people say, that knight-errant diverted himself extremely
upon the road, and made a great deal of hot love to you; but I take that
to be a meer story, because _Virgil_, who would not have let slip so
pleasant a passage, has said nothing of it. However, could I return but
a short time to dislodge _Maintenon_, and take a frisk with my former
lover, if he be not too old for that business; or were I but your
shadow, provided I liv’d, I should be pretty well pleas’d; for ’tis a
melancholy thing to think that the fates should spin such a long thread
for an old lascivious ape [46], who never was to be compared with me;
and that there should remain no more of poor _Fontagne_, than an
unfortunate name, over which oblivion will in a little time triumph. At
the writing of this, in came a courier from _Versailles_, who brings us
word, that _Lewis the Great_ has undertook such a piece of work, that
the weight and consequence makes him sick of the world: that Mrs.
_Maintenon_ has wore out his teeth; that legions of vermin devour him,
and that we may suddenly expect him in these dominions; which, if true,
will be some satisfaction to me; and tho’ he be toothless, worm-eaten
and rotten: I will grant him the same liberty he often took with me on a
couch at the _Trianon_, to get him again under my empire, that I may at
leisure revenge myself for his forgetfulness.
_Oh! wou’d it not provoke a maid,_
_By softest vows and oaths betray’d,_
_Her virgin treasures to resign,_
_And give up honour’s dearest shrine?_
_Then when her charms have been enjoy’d,_
_To be next moment laid aside._
_But why do I lament in vain,_
_And of my destiny complain?_
_Had I been wife as those before me,_
_I should have made the world adore me;_
_Not to one lover’s arms confin’d,_
_But search’d and try’d all human kind._
But I believe this foolish constancy was only owing to my want of
experience; and if I had liv’d a little longer, I should have had the
curiosity to try the variety of human performance, like the rest of my
neighbours. You have been, my dear _demi-goddess_, in love, and have
been belov’d; therefore, I beseech you, give me some healing advice, or
consolation, as my case requires.
_The_ Cumean Sybil_’s Answer to the Duchess of_ Fontagne.
Is it possible that so charming a beauty should think of such an old
decrepid creature as I am! I was desirous to talk with _Mercury_ about
you, but he flew away like a bird. It extremely troubles me, dear
child, that I am oblig’d, in answer to your letter, to tell you there is
no hopes of your returning to _Versailles_; for you must consider that
when I conducted _Æneas_, I was then living, and that ’tis impossible
for any under a _Hercules_ to fetch you from whence you are; and where
shall we find one now? The bravest _Boufflers_ in _France_ is but a
link-boy in comparison to him. Your lover, _fair lady_, is so fast
link’d to his old [47] _Duegna_’s tail, that he thinks no more of you
and your complaints are insignificant.[48] She that hurried you out of
the world in the flower of your youth, with a favourable dose of poison,
is now neglected, and grown so monstrous fat and lecherous, by living
lazily in a nunnery, that she’s not a fit companion for any creature
that has but two legs to support it. You know not what you do, when you
envy my destiny, for I’m sometimes so teiz’d and tir’d with answering
the _virtuosos_ and _beaux_, that it turns my very brain. I own, ’tis a
sad thing to dye at eighteen, in the heighth of one’s greatness and
pleasures, because nature always thinks she pays her tribute to death
before-hand. I would willingly divert you a little, but I know not which
way, unless this little history I send you, which a traveller gave me
not long since, and which has novelty to recommend itself, will do it.
Do not believe, good lady, the scandalous story some ignorant rhiming
puppy has made of _Æneas_ and me; he was not so brisk as that comes to;
and I can assure you, never put the question to me. Ask _Dido_, she can
tell you more of him than I can; and as modest as _Virgil_ describes
her, yet she was forc’d to take this _Trojan_ prince by the throat to
make him perform the duty of a gallant; by this you may judge of his
constitution: besides, had he been never so amorously inclin’d, yet not
knowing my inclinations, he might think his courtship would displease
me, and so disoblige _Apollo_, for whose assistance he then had
occasion. Therefore laugh at all those idle railleries of impertinent
people, and turn your eyes and thoughts on the following dialogue.
[Illustration: _The Mitred Hog and Ladys_
_Vol: II. p. 101._ _E Kirkall Sculp._
]
_The MITRED HOG: A Dialogue between Abbot_ FURETIERE _and_ SCARRON.
_Furetiere._ Oh! Have I found you at last, old friend? Tho’ I were
certain you were here, and desir’d earnestly to see you; yet being
gouty, and tir’d with walking, I began to have no more thoughts of
searching after you. How many troublesome journeys I have made, and
leagues have I travell’d, and all to kiss your hands, tho’ I am a
virtuoso, I cannot tell; for in truth, I am quite out of my element, and
confounded ever since I have lost sight of sun and moon.
_Scarron._ Who are you, and please ye? What’s your name? For the dead
having neither beard nor bonnet, nor any thing else to distinguish them
by, I know not exactly what, or who you are; but by your language and
mien, suppose you some mungril of the _French_ academy.
_Furet._ Well guess’d; I am call’d Monsieur _l’Abbé Furetiere_,[49]
alias _Porc de bon Dieu_, who has long, but in vain, been gaping and
scraping at _Versailles_ for a mitre, that I might wallow in peace and
plenty like a hog. But alas! what a left-handed planet was I born under?
A debauch with stummed wine, setting an old pox, which lay dormant in my
bones, into a ferment, soon carry’d me off, almost in the heighth of my
desires, and when I bad fairest for the bishoprick.
_Scar._ I am sorry for your misfortune; but am at the same time heartily
glad to see you, Monsieur _l’Abbé_. You will not, perhaps, meet with all
these conveniencies here, you enjoy’d at _Paris_; but, in recompense,
you will meet with much honester dealing. For my part, I must own myself
infinitely happy; for now I am neither troubled with lawyers,
physicians, apothecaries, collectors of taxes, priests, nor wife, the
plague and torment of men’s days when on earth. But how have you had
your health since you have been in the country.
_Furet._ Thanks to our master _Pluto_, I have not yet felt any cold. I
was so very tender and chill for six months in the year at _Paris_, that
tho’ I was loaded with ermins, and always had a dram of the best _Nantz_
in my pocket, I could scarce keep my blood from freezing in my veins.
_Scar._ That’s an affliction you will not meet with here, take my word
for’t; for ’tis something hotter than under the _torrid zone_, and the
nicest wits of your academy, need not fear spoiling their brains, by
catching cold here. It is not long since I met with the illustrious
_Balzac_, who does not complain now of the cold in his head, as he did
when he liv’d on the pleasant banks of the _Charante_. But, what news
have you?
_Furet._ I don’t doubt, by your inquisitiveness, but you are very
desirous to hear some news of your wife.
_Scar._ May pox and itch devour the nasty jade! I know but too much of
her by mareschal _d’Albert_ formerly, and lately, by my likeness
Monsieur _Luxemburg_; yes, I know she’s a duchess; that she’s one of the
privy-council; and she serves _Lewis_ the XIV. in the same capacity as
_Livia_ did _Augustus_. But why did not the prostitute make her poor
deform’d husband a duke? I should not have been the first duke and peer
of _France_, that had been a cuckold.
_Furet._ By your discourse, Mr. _Scarron_, one would think you had lost
your senses and memory: But you cannot surely have forgot how, instead
of laurel, she adorn’d your learned brow with horns, before she was
taken notice of at court; Indeed how could a pretty, witty, buxom, young
woman, forbear making such an infirm, deform’d _Æsop_ as you a cuckold?
_Scar._ I should not have much valued that, because I had brethren
enough to herd with, if the damn’d whore had but got my pension
augmented; but the confounded jade, instead of that, gave me the
cursed’st garrison to maintain, that ever poor husband was mortify’d
with: To appease which, I was forc’d to have recourse to _Unguentum
contra pediculos inguinales_, &c. But prithee let’s discourse of
something else, for the thoughts of the duchess of _Maintenon_, will
disturb my brain, and easily put me into a fever, which is dangerous in
this warm climate.
_Furet._ I’ll tell you but three or four words more of this famous
duchess, and conclude. _First_, That she has kick’d her patroness, Madam
_Montespan_ out of the royal bed: And _Secondly_, That she is very great
with the pious jesuit, father _la Chaise_, the monarch’s confessor.
_Scar._ Oh! oh! by my troth, I don’t wonder at the lascivious harlot,
for closing with him! as there is no feast like the misers, so there is
no gallantry like those monks. When those hypocrites undertake that
business, they do it all like heroes. But you have said all, by saying
he is a jesuit, since those gallants have been in reputation, they have
engrossed all good whoring to their society, especially in _France_, and
more particularly at _Paris_, where they have so well behav’d
themselves, that they have chang’d an antient authentick proverb,
_Jacobine en [50] chair, Cordelier en [51] chœur, Carme en [52] cusine,
& Augustine en [53] bordel_, for now they say, _Jesuit en bordel, &c._
But so much for those gentlemen, pray what are you a doing now in the
_French_ academy?
_Furet._ There are as many follies committed there, as in any society in
the universe; judge of the whole by this one example. That company was
never so highly honour’d as it is at present, by the particular care
that great monarch takes of it; for which he is repaid in flattering
panegyricks. Nevertheless, these insipid, florid, gentlemen, scold and
scratch like so many fish-women in an alehouse. The other day the great
_Charpentier_ fell into such a passion about a trifle, that he
reproach’d the learned _Taleman_, of being the son of a broken
apothecary at _Rochel_; to which _Taleman_ with as much heat reply’d,
_Charpentier_ was the son of poor hedge ale-draper at _Paris_. From this
_Billingsgate_ language they came to blows. _Charpentier_ threw
_Nicot_’s dictionary at his adversary’s head, and _Taleman_ threw
_Morery_’s at _Charpentier_’s. We all wish’d heartily we could have
recall’d you from the dead, to write the various accidents of this
battle, in your comical and satyric style.
_Scar._ Ha, ha, ha, had I been there, they should have beat the academy
dictionary and _Morery_’s too in pieces about each other’s ears, before
I would have parted them. But I hope these two sputtering coxcombs did
each other justice; I declare, whoever hinder’d it, deserv’d to be
severely fined. Pray how did you behave yourself during this combat?
_Furet._ I happen’d not to be there; for you must know, there has been
such a difference between those gentlemen and me, concerning a
dictionary I have publish’d, that it came at last to a contentious
law-suit; but what was laid on either side, only made the world laugh at
both, and is not half so diverting as the epigram you made upon an, old
lady that went to law with you: I think I still remember it.----
_Thou nauseous everlasting sow,_
_With phiz of bear, and shape of cow,_
_With eyes that in their sockets twinkle,_
_And forehead plow’d with many a wrinkle._
_With nose that runs like common-shore,_
_And breath that murders at twelvescore:_
_What! thou’rt resolv’d to give me war,_
_And trounce me at the noisy bar,_
_Though it reduces thee to eat,_
_Thy smock for want of cleanlier meat:_
_Agreed, old beldam! keep thy word,_
_’Twill soon reduce thee to eat a t----d._
_Scar._ May that be the fate of _Taleman_, _Charpentier_, and the rest
of those reformers of the alphabet, and in a more especial manner of
that thieving flattering rogue [54] _Despaux_, who has made a faithless
poltron, a _Mars_, and a super-annuated lascivious adultress, a saint.
So much for that ---- But give me some little account now of your clergy,
I mean the great plump rogues, the hogs with mitres on their heads, and
crosiers on their shoulders, those janizaries of antichrist.
_Furet._ I know your meaning---- Never was nickname given with more
justice to any society of men. In _Normandy_, and those parts they call
all the minor clergy, as the fat monks, canons, abbots, _&c._ who are
not mitred, _Jesus Christ_’s porkers; which distinction is not very
fantastical, if we allow the other expression. But no more of those
gentlemen, ’tis dangerous.
_Scar._ Prithee, dear abbot, be not so mealy-mouth’d; when I was in the
world, the greatest pleasure I had, was in attacking those gentleman’s
vices, and exposing them to the hereticks, that still-born generation of
vipers, as they call them, and therefore let us be free now; ’tis the
only enjoyment we can have. Pray what says your _Monthly Mercury_ of
those gentleman, whom the earth is more oblig’d to for bodies, than
heaven for souls?
_Furet._ Never fuller of who made such a man a cuckold, and who pox’d
such a woman, as now; neither were ever the women half so impudent; no
not in the reigns of _Caligula_ and _Nero_. Never was debauchery so much
in fashion; nor never were the whores so often cover’d with purple.
_Scar._ Is there not in your herd, such a thing as a tame gentle
weather? or what _Virgil_ calls _Dux Gregis_? you understand me.
_Furet._ A weather! oh, fy, fy! not such a creature among them, I can
assure you. The most christian king would not suffer such an impertinent
scandalous animal, so much as at shew his head in his seraglio. ’Tis as
easy to find there a pretty woman chaste, or hair in the palm of your
hand, as an emasculated beast among the mitred hogs: for the _Dux
Gregis_, _Virgil_ speaks of, we have one at the head of our prelates,
who has all the qualities requisite for so great an honour, tho’ he has
neither beard nor horns: and should I name him, you’d be of my opinion.
_Scar._ Wou’d I recollect my memory, and their virtues, I cou’d guess
within two or three; but pray save me that labour.
_Furet._ Do you not remember a famous song you made in praise of a sick
wanton goat. _Creque fait & defend l’archeveque de Roüen._
_Scar._ Oh, dear! oh, dear! the right reverend _Francis Harley_,
archbishop of _Paris_! my most renowned friend! a worthy chief!
_Furet._ The very same, and ’tis a precious jewel, both for body and
soul. A hedgehog has not more bristles than this prelate has
mistresses, and there’s not a stallion in _France_ that leaps oftner.
_Scar._ You rejoice my heart Mons. _Furetiere_. He was, I remember,
always at _Paris_, when archbishop of _Rouen_: no man fitter for that
employment. To be free, if _Paris_ be the hell of hackney horses, ’tis
the paradice of whore-masters and hackney-whores. I can guess at what he
does now, by what he did formerly. Several ladies also of our
neighbouring countries are witnesses of his prowess; but more especially
some of the fair _English_ ladies; the luscious morsels of a lustful
monarch. But on to the rest.
_Furet._ I am willing to satisfy your curiosity, Mr. _Scarron_, but to
run thro’ the whole herd, would be too tedious at present, tho’ they all
deserve to be chronicled: so I will only, _en passant_, give you the
history of those you have heard preach, both at _Paris_ and the court,
with wonderful applause; and who, for their modesty and regular lives,
had the reputation of saints, whilst they were only fathers of oratory.
_Scar._ Take your own method, Mons. _l’Abbé_; but let me tell you one
thing, by the way, this place is call’d the _wits corner_, but by some
late guests, because of the smoak and liquor, the _wits Coffee-House_.
Now you know the wits of all countries laugh at the clergy in their
poems and plays; and that the clergy, to be reveng’d of them, and keep
up their own reputation with the ignorant, call them atheists; therefore
you may freely give a true description of them. All here are their
enemies; and a priest would as soon venture his carcass in _Sweden_ as
in this place; he dreads a poet, as much as dogs do a sow-gelder.
_Furet._ Still a merry man, Mr. _Scarron_. But to return to your mitred
hogs; do you remember father _le Bone_, and father _Mascron_. The first
is now bishop of _Perigueux_, and the other bishop of _Agen_.
_Scar._ How! are these two famous preachers, those scourgers of pride
and immorality, got into the herd of the mitred hogs? by my troth, I
always took them for credulous humble weathers, believers of what they
preached; tho’ I know most priests seldom believe what they profess.
_Furet._ Well, Mr. _Scarron_, tho’ you can see as far thro’ a mill-stone
as any man, yet I find you are not infallible.
_Scar._ Faith, a man sees as far thro’ a mill-stone, as a priest’s
surplice, tho’ ’tis reckon’d the emblem of purity. But, Mons. _l’Abbé_,
what _Montaigne_ said formerly of the women, I now say of the priests:
_Ils envoyen leur conscience au bordel, & tiennent leur countenance en
regle_: they send their conscience to the stews, and keep their
countenance within rule.
_Furet._ ’Tis even as true of one, as of the other, Mr. _Scarron_, and
my following discourse will verify it. What virtue there is in a mitre,
I know not, for I could never obtain one; I was thought too good a
christian in the bottom; but before I had bad adieu to _Paris_, your
innocent believing apostles were become too as rampant and fine coated
hogs as any of the herd. The reverend father _le Bone_, bishop of
_Perigueux_, has so bravely plaid the county boar, that there’s not a
pretty nun in his diocese but has been with pig by him; as I have been
credibly informed by persons of honour.
_Scar._ Oh! the excellent apostle: I remember a story of him when he was
bishop of _Agde_, which will not be unpleasant to you, if you can bear
with a pun, and a poet’s making merry with several languages, a thing he
can no more avoid than flattery. This worthy prelate not meeting with
that plenty at _Agde_ his voluptuousness required, made his monarch this
compliment: Sir, _Je suis né gueux, j’ay vecu gueux, benais s’il plait a
votre majeste, je voux Perigueux_.
_Furet._ Faith, a very comfortable reward for a very filthy pun; I have
said forty pleasanter things to the king, and never could get beyond
Mons. _l’Abbé_, which makes me believe there is a critical minute for a
wit, as well as love: an excellent _Roman_ poet was sensible of it, when
he said,
_Hora libellorum decima est, Eupheme, meorum,_
_Temporat ambrosias cum tua cura dapes,_
_Est bonus æthereo laxatur nectare Cæsare._
There’s a _Latin_ quotation for you, to shew you I understand it; and
that I have been an author as well as you.
_Scar._ Believe me, Mons. _l’Abbé_, you’ll fare much the better for it
here; and tho’ those gentlemen made us poor poets pass for scoundrels
and impious ridiculers of piety in the other world, yet we have much the
whip-hand of them in these quarters, therefore take comfort. Tell me
pray how the pious _Julius Mascaron_ behaves himself at _Agen_, where he
meets with greater plenty than he did at _Thute_.
_Furet._ Oh! the acorns and chesnuts of _Agen_ have made him so plump
and wanton, ’twould rejoice your heart to see him. All the females of
the town caress him, and strive which shall yield him most delight; and
he out of zeal and gratitude, and to preserve peace and charity among
them, like a holy prelate, has given to each her hour of rendezvous,
which they keep as regularly as the clock strikes.
_Scar._ Very well! there’s nothing so commendable as good method in
whoring.
_Furet._ But his favourite is a pretty gentle _nun_, with whom he often
goes to _Beauregard_, there _tete a tete_, or rather _ne a ne_, under
the shady limes, do they both act that which will one day procure a
third. There are forty other better stories of these two prelates; for
they value not what common report says. They are above it: But if you
will listen to the exploits of the bishop of _Laon_, now cardinal
_d’Estrée_, I will shew you what a mitred hog is capable of.
_Scar._ As I am acquainted with the strength of his genius, so I do not
doubt of the greatness of his performances. You have now named a man
that would make a parish bull jealous.
_Furet._ The history I shall give you, will justify your opinion of him.
Know then that the cardinal _d’Estrée_ being passionately in love with
the marchioness _de Cœuvres_, who was supposed to have granted the duke
_de Seaux_ the liberty of rifling her placket, was resolv’d to put in
for his snack. To compass this, he acquainted his nephew, the marquis
_de Cœuvres_, with the scandalous familiarity that was between the duke
and his wife. Upon which their parents met at the mareschal
_d’Estrée_’s, where it was concluded to send the young adultress into a
convent; but the old mareschal, made wiser by long experience, was
against it. In good faith, said he, you are more nice than wise; had not
our mothers plaid the same wanton trick, not one of us had been here. I
know very well what I say; there’s not a handsome nose nor leg in the
company, but has been stole; and not a farthing matter from whom,
whether prince or coachman, it has mended our breed: therefore we have
more reason to praise those, who discreetly follow the examples of their
grandmothers and mothers, than banish ’em, and so render them fruitless.
Do not suppose, when I married my grandson _de Cœuvres_, to young
mademoiselle _de Lionne_, that I consider’d her riches, or that her
father was a minister of state; such thoughts are beneath a man of my
age and experience. My great hopes were, that she being young and
handsome, will still support the grandeur of our family, which as you
all very well know, has been made more considerable by the intrigues of
the women, than by the valour of the men. I’m sure I never discourag’d
what I now maintain; and why my grandson should be more squeamish than
I, or his forefathers have been, I take it to be unreasonable:
therefore, since the marchioness _de Cœuvres_ is only blam’d for having
tasted those pleasures which nature allows, and which are customary in
our family, I declare my self her protector. Yet I would not have this
be the talk of the court; I would not have it pass my threshold; because
the world might say of one of us, as of a fine curious piece of
clock-work, that a great many excellent workmen had a hand in it.
_Scar._ In this generous and considerate speech, do I plainly discover
the inclinations of the famous _Gabriele d’Estrée_, _Harry_ the fourth’s
mistress. But I am in trouble for the poor marchioness; I know a convent
must be insupportable to a woman that has tasted the pleasures of a
licentious court.
_Furet._ The cardinal was against publishing his niece’s wantonness, as
well as the mareschal, and took upon him the care of reprimanding her,
and bringing her into the path of virtue: to which the marquis _de
Cœuvres_ readily consented, not imagining he deliver’d the pretty lamb
to the ravenous wolf. This being agreed on, the lustful prelate went
immediately to his niece; I come, Madam, said he, from doing you a very
considerable piece of service: all our family has been in consultation
against you, and could think of no milder punishment for you than a
convent, with all its mortifications, _viz._ _Praying, fasting,
whipping, and abstaining from the masculine kind_, &c. I know, dear
niece, this was as unjust as severe; but, in short, it had been your
doom, had I not been your friend. Such a piece of service as this,
beautiful niece, deserves a suitable return, and I believe you too
generous to be ungrateful: but I shall think this, and all the other
services I can render you, highly recompenc’d, if you’ll but permit me
to see you often, and embrace you.
_Scar._ A very pious speech! I hope that which is to follow will answer
this excellent beginning. Now do I imagine a place formally besieged;
the next news will be of the opening the trenches.
_Furet._ We proceed very regularly, Mr. _Scarron_; the place makes a
noble defence, and does not surrender till a breach is made. To be thus
unjustly accused, said the marchioness, is a very great misfortune; and
tho’ I will not disown my obligation to you, yet you must permit me to
say, that your proceeding destroys that very obligation: if you will not
have any regard to my virtue, and the fidelity I owe to my husband, you
ought, nevertheless, to remember your character, and how nearly we are
related. But I know the meaning of this; you believe the scandalous and
malicious story that has been raised of me, and design to make your
advantage of it. What can be more injurious than this attempt! Tho’ you
thought me a whore, had you but thought me still virtuous enough to
abhor your beastly, incestuous proposition, I should have had some
reason to esteem you--
_Scar._ Poor prelate! Egad, I pity thee; thou hast receiv’d such a
bruise in this repulse, that I cannot think thou wilt have the courage
to return to the attack.
_Furet._ Have patience; you are not acquainted with the craft and
courage of a _mitred hog_. The prelate, who by this resistance, was
become more amorous, resolv’d to watch so narrowly his niece’s conduct,
that he would oblige her to do that out of fear, which all his rhetorick
and protestations of love could not tempt her to. To be short, he
managed so well this important affair, that he surpris’d the duke _de
Seaux_ in bed, between Madam _de Lionne_ and the marchioness _de
Cœuvres_ her daughter: and to magnify charity, as well as other virtues
in this matter, he took Monsieur _de Lionne_ along with him. I will
leave you to imagine the confusion of these two ladies; the first to see
her husband, and the other the man she had so vigorously repuls’d. The
marchioness thinking wisely, her compliance would yet conceal her
intrigue; taking the cardinal by the hand, and gently squeezing it,
said, If you’ll promise to appease my father, and by your ghostly
authority, make my mother and him good friends again, and keep this
frolick from my husband, you shall, whenever you please, find me
grateful, and sensible of your affection.
_Scar._ What said Monsieur _de Lionne_? The surprise of a poor cuckold,
who finds a handsome, brawny young fellow in bed with his wife and
daughter, surpasses my imagination.
_Furet._ If, like _Actæon_, he had been immediately metamorphosed into a
stag, he could not have been more surprized.
_Scar._ How did the prelate behave himself after this charitable brave
exploit? The breach is now made, there has been a parley; the
preliminaries are agreed on; nothing now is wanting, but taking
possession of the place.
_Furet._ You move very soldier like, Mr. _Scarron_. The prelate being
resolv’d to perform all the articles of the treaty, like a man of
honour, first preach’d on charity, and then forgiveness of crimes; then
on human prudence, policy, the reputation of their family, and quoted
some of the old mareschal’s remarks; which altogether so prevail’d on
the poor cuckold, that he consented to put his horns in his pocket, and
forgive his daughter. Then did the prelate, under the pious pretence of
correcting his faulty niece, lead her with a seeming austere gravity
into his chamber, where he summon’d her to the performance of articles
on her part; which, on a couch, were reciprocally exchanged; she not
daring to refuse it, for fear he should acquaint her husband with her
intrigue with the duke _de Seaux_.
_Scar._ Oh brave hog! worthy prelate! pious cardinal. What a fine way of
mortification is this! Well, for sincerity, humility, charity, sobriety,
_&c._ commend me to a prelate.
_Furet._ The cardinal, tho’ he had obtained his desires, yet could not
but be sensible that fear, not love, made her consent; therefore
doubting she would return to her first amours, or that he should have
but little share of her, so contriv’d it, that her husband sent her to a
house he had in the cardinal’s diocese, and not far from his palace.
This had a very good effect; because the cardinal, for the love of her,
resided always in his diocese. Thus did the cardinal and his niece live
very lovingly for two or three years; but the intrigues of the court
calling the prelate out of the kingdom, ambition stepp’d into the place
of love, and put an end to an incestuous commerce, to which the
marchioness had first consented, purely in her own defence.
_Scar._ I find there are hogs with cardinal caps, as well as mitres. But
I believe they are not so numerous; that dignity, perhaps, is a kind of
curb to their licentiousness.
_Furet._ You mistake the matter, Mr. _Scarron_, inclination never
changes; the only reason is, there are more bishops than cardinals, and
most of them reside at _Rome_, at glorious _Rome_, which is but one
entire stew; _Sodom_ was not what _Rome_ is now. Have you forgot the
famous cardinal _Bonzi_? He is as absolute in _Montpelier_, as the grand
signior in his seraglio; he needs but beckon to the dame he has a mind
to enjoy. The brave cardinal _de Bouillon_, notwithstanding his court
intrigues is as well known in all the bawdy-houses of _Paris_, as a
young debauch’d musqetteer, or _garde de corps_. The cardinal _de
Furstenburg_ too was as wicked as his purse would allow him before I
left the town.
_Scar._ I verily believe it, Monsieur _l’Abbé_: But pray give me leave
to reckon your dignities upon my fingers, that I may not forget them.
First, There is your porkers of _Jesus Christ_; then your _mitred hogs_;
and lastly, your _purple hogs_. ’Tis wondrous pretty! pray how must we
distinguish the Pope, who is chief of this herd? Must we call him the
swine-herd? Some of them, ’tis true, were swine-herds before they took
the order of priesthood, as _Sixtus Quintus_, who was swine-herd to the
village of _Montaste_: But there is another thing that puzzles me worse
than all this: you know _Lewis_ XIV. calls himself the eldest son of
St. _Peter_, _Lewis the Great_ then, for all his ambition is the son of
a swine-herd. Well, I know not how to settle this point; therefore pray
continue your history.
_Furet._ I’ll make an end of my history, if you are not already glutted
with the infamy of the afore-mentioned prelates; with that of the
archbishop of _Rheims_.
_Scar._ How! Monsieur _l’Abbé_, how! Is he a hog too? I have heard him
call’d by some of our new guests a horse.
_Furet._ You are in the right of that: the mareschal _de la Feuillade_
was his god-father, and one day honour’d him with the title of
coach-horse.
_Scar._ A horse is a degree of honour above a hog---- Has _la Feuillade_
the privilege of distributing titles at the court of _France_? Has he
more wit than in cardinal _Mazarine_’s days, who always greeted him in
these words, Monsieur _de la Feuillade, All your brains would lie in a
nutshell_.
_Furet._ ’Tis true, there is no more substance in his brains, than in
whipt cream; and as that fills up the desart, and serves to cool and
refresh the stomach after a plentiful dinner; so does he serve to unbend
and divert the mind, after solid conversation and business. To prove
this, I will tell you how he made the king to laugh very heartily,
concerning the archbishop of _Rheims_.
_Scar._ As a wise politick lady, when she has not the fool her husband
to divert her, will have her monkey; so must the great statesman have
his buffoon. He is the same to the politician as a clyster is to the man
that’s costive. But go on with your story.
_Furet._ He being one day with the king, looking out at a window of
_Versailles_, that faces the great road to _Paris_, and observing the
passengers, the king at last discover’d a coach with more, as he
thought, than six horses; and turning to _la Feuillade_, praising the
equipage, ask’d him if it was not the archbishop of _Rheims_’s livery:
yes, Sir, said _la Feuillade_. I can discover but seven horses, reply’d
the king: Oh! Sir, said _la Feuillade_, the eighth is in the coach. But
I pretend to degrade this archbishop, and prove that he’s but a _mitred
hog_ as well as the rest of his brethren.
_Scar._ Ah dear Monsieur _l’Abbé_, for the love of Monsieur _le
Tellier_, who has render’d his king and country such great service, take
not from him the honour _la Feuillade_ conferr’d on him, and with the
king’s approbation.
_Furet._ Plead not so earnestly for him, but hear me with patience. I do
not say but the archbishop of _Rheims_ is a brute, a very animal, a
coach-horse, _per omnes casus_; but yet he pursues the affairs of love
with as much zeal, and as little conscience, as any prelate in _Europe_,
therefore must not be distinguish’d from his brethren. Besides, if you
take him from his lawful title of _mitred hog_, you will hinder his
preferment.
_Scar._ Oh! by no means. I have read that _Caligula_ honour’d one of his
horses with the title of senator; why then may not the Pope, who is the
successor of that emperor, call into his senate your coach-horse?
_Furet._ With all my heart. Nevertheless, I’ll call him if you please,
_mitred hog_, as I did the bishop of _Loan_ before he was cardinal
_d’Estrée_. Now to matter of fact. The duchess _d’Aumont_ having
surpris’d one of her chamber-maids in a very indecent posture with the
marquis _de Villequier_, her son-in-law, turn’d her out of her service.
The poor wench, distracted to find herself separated from her lover,
told him, out of pure revenge, that the archbishop of _Rheims_ lay with
the duchess every time the duke went to _Versailles_. How! my uncle! Ah!
I cannot believe it; thou say’st this out of malice.
_Scar._ Oh fie! oh fie! The archbishop of _Rheims_ debauch the duchess
_d’Aumont_, his brother-in-law’s wife! Do not you plainly perceive this
jade’s malice? If the duchess had but suffer’d her intrigue with the
marquis, she would not have open’d her mouth. Oh, horrible! Oh,
horrible!
_Furet._ As much as you seem to wonder now, and abhor the thoughts of
such doings, you were not formerly so nice, nor incredulous.
_Scar._ Be not angry, good Monsieur _l’Abbé_; I do believe as bad of a
priest, as you can desire to have me; therefore pray continue.
_Furet._ By what follows you’ll find that the spirit of revenge
discover’d a most luscious intrigue. Since you will not believe what I
say, reply’d the wench to her gallant, I will, the next time the duke
goes to _Versailles_, make your eyes convince you. The duchess, you must
know, had imprudently given her leave to stay three or four days in her
house. As it happen’d, the duke went that afternoon to court, who was no
sooner gone, and the marquis plac’d in a dark room leading to the
duchess’s bed-chamber, but by comes the archbishop, muffled up with a
dark-lanthorn in his hand. This convinced the young marquis, and was
enough to convince a more incredulous man than your worship.
_Scar._ It was perhaps some phantome, or some amorous Devil, who to do
himself honour, had taken the archbishop’s goodly form and sanctify’d
mien.
_Furet._ Still excusing the priests! You were not such an advocate of
theirs in the other world, witness your answer to your parish-priest,
some few hours before you pack’d up for this place.
_Scar._ I have since drank a swinging draught of _Lethe_’s forgetful
stream; I remember nothing of it: You would, perhaps, scandalize me.
_Furet._ It was thus, Sir, the grave hypocrite administring the last
idolatrous ceremonies, asked if you knew what you received; to which you
made this short answer: _The body of your God carried by an ass_.
_Scar._ ’Tis true, ’tis true, Monsieur _l’Abbé_; pray who can endure to
be disturb’ by an impertinent coxcomb, when he’s going to take a long
voyage? But go on, I will not speak one word more in their behalf.
_Furet._ The marquis, convinced by what he had seen, went the next
morning to _Versailles_, and told all the young nobility of his
acquaintance what had pass’d; which by being buzz’d about, in four and
twenty hours became the talk of all the court.
_Scar._ Oh brave archbishop of _Rheims_! Was no body worthy of being
made a cuckold by you, but your brother in-law?
_Furet._ Again mistaken, Mr. _Scarron_, for the charitable archbishop
has assisted his nephew too, as well as his brother-in-law, and intends
to go round the family.
_Scar._ The Devil! This is the most insatiable hog I ever heard of! He
devours both the hen and her chickens. Pray excuse me, Monsieur
_l’Abbé_: I cannot but think you wrong him now.
_Furet._ You may judge of that by the following relation. The archbishop
being passionately in love with Madam _d’Aumont_ his niece, and the
marquis _de Crequi_’s wife, was resolv’d, the better to insinuate
himself with her, to make her jealous of her husband, which he found no
difficult matter to do. This done, he went to visit her, and finding her
melancholy, said, Madam, I know no reason you have to be so much
concern’d at your husband’s infidelity, since it lies in your power to
be reveng’d. If he has a mistress, why don’t you get a gallant? I know
no injustice in it; and it is the only recompensing counsel I can give
you.
_Scar._ Ah! _Marchioness_, have at you; I find the hog grows
rampant---- Go on, good Sir, this is like a brave metropolitan.
_Furet._ The young marchioness did not listen to this proportion; but on
the contrary, was surpris’d to find her uncle, an archbishop, make a
motion, which had she been inclined to follow, he ought to have given
her more virtuous advice. Perceiving her aversion to his proposition, he
suspected she might suppose he only said it to try her inclinations,
therefore he was resolved to declare his mind in more intelligible
terms; which he did in so amorous a style, that the marchioness plainly
perceiv’d the archbishop intended to have a share in the revenge. But
the young lady, tho’ she would not have made any scruple of it, had it
not been for his character, was infinitely concerned at it.
_Scar._ Notwithstanding all this, do I see the purple victorious, and
the poor victim prostrate.
_Furet._ As the archbishop made her frequent presents, and she expected
great advantages at his death, so she did not think it prudence to
mortify him too much; this filled him with hopes, and made him more
amorous: therefore, to blind the husband, and have a better opportunity
of lying with his wife, he proposed taking them into his palace, and
defraying all their charges.
_Scar._ Money is the sinew of love as well as war. The poor marquis, I
don’t doubt, was blinded with this fine proposal. More men are made
cuckolds by their own follies than by their wives.
_Furet._ So it proved by our cuckold, who was so transported at the
bounteous offer of the archbishop, supposing it an uncle’s kindness, not
a lover’s, that he every where boasted of it, that is to say, he thought
himself oblig’d to his uncle for lying with his wife at that price. The
mareschal _de Crequi_, his father, had quite another opinion of that
matter, and was affronted at the excessive liberalities of the
archbishop, knowing that the most devout and zealous of their tribe were
adulterers, incestuous, and sodomites. He complain’d of it to the
marquis _Louvois_, who told him, covetousness was the reason of his
complaint. The mareschal not satisfied with this answer, went to the
king, who immediately commanded the archbishop to retire into his
diocese. The disconsolate archbishop, whilst all were preparing for his
journey, went to visit his niece, and with tears desired her ever to
remember, that it was for the love of her he was banish’d.
_Scar._ Could the afflictions of the living affect me, I shou’d be
mightily concern’d for the grief this poor prelate, who was oblig’d to
leave so dear, so pretty a niece; a niece that afforded him so much
pleasure and delight. Have not you left behind you other _mitred hogs_,
whose lives and conversations are worthy your remembrance? Those you
have already been so kind to relate, have been a banquet to me; and I
heartily wish I may always meet with such entertainment.
_Furet._ Your servant, Mr. _Scarron_, I am extremely pleased they have
diverted you; and that you may promise yourself such another
entertainment, nay, twenty such; be assur’d, that there is not a bishop,
archbishop, or cardinal, that is not as very a hog, as either the
archbishop of _Rheims_, or cardinal _d’Estrée_, except the bishop of
_Escar_, who lives in a barren soil, and can scarce afford himself a
bellyfull of chesnuts above once in fifteen days. Poverty is a kind of
leprosy, not a fair sleek female will come near him. The reason why I
entertain you with the histories of these two prelates, rather than of
the archbishop of _Paris_, the bishop of _Meaux_, the bishop of
_Beauvais_, the bishop of _Valence_, and all the other bishops, is,
because having heard the famous actions of those worthy metropolitans,
faithfully related some few days before my departure, those ideas are
the most present and lively. But in time, and with a little rubbing up
my memory, I may be able to give you the lives of all the _mitred hogs_.
Besides, as we have now settled three couriers weekly from this place to
_Versailles_, because of the importance of affairs now on foot, I expect
now and then a pacquet; so I don’t doubt of keeping my word, and often
diverting you with stories of the like nature, and of fresher date.
_Scar._ ’Tis very obliging, Monsieur _l’Abbé_: But your last paragraph
has put an odd whim into my noddle. This place, as I told you before, is
now call’d the wits coffee-house; none but authors are sent hither. What
think you if we should join our heads together, and digest all your
stories and intelligence into form; if we should compile a book of them,
we could make it very diverting, having able men both for verse and
prose, whose very names would give it the reputation of a faithful
history, because the dead neither hoping nor fearing any thing from the
living, cannot be suspected of flattery and partiality, as they justly
were when in the world.
_Furet._ I protest, a noble thought! The lives of the _Roman_ prelates
will make a most curious history. We have a famous history of the
_Roman_ emperors; and why should we not then have another of the _Roman_
prelates, since they as justly deserve to be transmitted to posterity?
_Beau_ NORTON, _to his Brothers at_ HIPPOLLITO_’s in_
Covent-Garden. _By Captain_ AYLOFF.
_Dearly beloved Brothers of the Orange-Butter-Box._
You will soon be satisfy’d what mighty changes we suffer by death; and
that there is no two things at more distance from one another, than to
be and not to be. You know how, _Roman_ like, I took pett, and dar’d to
die! for time had bejaded me a little, and to renounce the tyranny of
the fickle goddess, I was oblig’d to renounce your light. Since my
arrival at the grim _Tartarian_ territories, I have received the usual
compliments of the place; and tho’ the most accurate courtiers that
ever was bred at _Versailles_, and all the wits of the most gallant
courts in the universe, are here in whole shoals; yet to my great wonder
and amazement, not one of them said a genteel thing to me. But with a
strange familiar air, that favour’d much of our bear-garden friendship,
some a hundred or two, hall’d me by the ears, and puffing out thick
clouds of flaming sulphur, cry’d all with a hoarse and dismal voice,
well, _Doily_, this was kindly done of thee, to take _pas avance_ of
destiny, and shew the world, that no man need be miserable, but who is
afraid to die.
I was (amongst friends) as much out of countenance at this saucy
proceeding, as when our old friends, _Shore_ and _la Rocha_, refus’d to
lend me five paultry guineas, after I had equipp’d them with more than
one thousand apiece. I wonder’d at the roughness of their _acueil_, and
they burst out a laughing at the impertinency of my astonishment. Well,
gentlemen, give me leave to tell you, that if I had but suspected a
quarter part of this inhuman and ungentleman-like reception, I would
have suspended the honours of my self-sacrifice, and have chosen rather
to wait the fatal period of life in a more contracted orb, than thus
suddenly have plung’d myself into such a disappointment. After having
allotted me my portion for my vanity and foppery, and I had been put
into possession of my shop, you cannot conceive how heavy it lay upon my
spirits; but suffer it I must; and if it had not been the odiousest and
most abominable, most nauseous, and most execrable function I could have
laboured under, they would not have been so merciful as to have enjoin’d
it me. ’Twas long before I could obtain leave to insinuate thus much to
you; for they are no ways here below inclined to grant any the minutest
thing imaginable, that may contribute to the benefit of mankind. _Jo.
Haines_ came to me, (and his breath had as much augmented its stench, as
light is different from darkness: In a word, there was as great
disproportion for the worse, as between us and you) and with a displayed
pair of chaps, told me, I must not have any correspondency with the
upper regions, for it might tend to the dispeopling the _Acherontic_
territories; and that I was a bubble to think they had not as much of
self-interest here below, as any merchant, statesman, lawyer, or
nobleman in all the dominions above. But seeing my and your old
acquaintance, (gentlemen) I took heart a little, and held my nose; and
after some usual ceremonies, (to which he made but a scurvy return) I
told him, look you Mr _Haines_, you know, as well as I, that those
powder’d members of the vain fraternity are all of them incorrigible;
present smart and future fear affects them not; they are out of the
reach of good advice; reason was never their talent; for if they were
ever in election to have a thought, as it would be the first, so would
it be the fatalest too. Could any glass but shew them to themselves as
really they are, they would all despair like me, and die like me. A sly
young whelp of the second class of _Pluto_’s footmen, said, well, Mr.
_Haines_, there may be much in what he says, he came last from thence,
therefore let him make an end of his epistle, it may turn to better
account than we are aware of. I thank’d the gentleman for his civility,
and would have administred a half-crown; but you know (my worthy
brothers) that the last twelve shillings I had was laid out in three
glasses of _Ratifia_, and a bottle of _Essence_; with which, I first
comb’d out my wig, then clean’d my shoes, and then oil’d the locks of my
pistols, and so set out for this tedious and lugubrous journey: and that
you may see, that _Pluto_’s skip-kennels are not so insolent as yours
are, the fellow told me, with a malicious smile, that if the powder’d
gentry of the other world were so very despicable animals, as I
represented them, he would take a small tour with me, and then I might
have something material to communicate to them.
We had not walk’d so far as from the chocolate-house to the _Rose_, but
in a narrow, obscure, obscene alley, there hung out a piece of a broken
chamber-pot, upon which was written in sulphurous characters, _Fleshly
relief for the sons of_ Adam. I had hardly made an end of reading this
merry motto, but the door open’d, and what should my eyes behold, but a
reverend lady, of illustrious charms, that gave us too visible proofs of
the depredations of time: I recollected her phiz, as engineers tell by
the very ruins, whether the fabric were _Doric_ or _Ionic_, &c. and who
should this be but the celebrated fair _Rosamond_; her present
occupation was to be runner to this bawdy coffee-house. Queen _Eleanor_,
her mortal enemy, sells sprats, and has
[Illustration: Mark Antony _teaching yᵉ Dogs to Dance_ Oliver Cromwel
_turn’d Rat Catcher_
_Vol. II. p. 121._]
her stall in _Pluto_’s stable-yard. In my peregrination, I met several
things unexpected, and therefore surprising; I shall not give you the
trouble of every particular dark passage we went thro’, but in general
terms relate the most memorable things that occurred during a very
considerable walk that we had together. Taking a solitary walk on the
gloomy banks of _Acheron_, I met a finical fellow, powder’d from top to
toe, his hands in his pocket, _a-la-mode de Paris_, humming a new
minuet; and who would it be, but _Gondamour_, that famous _Spaniard_.
_Helen_ of _Greece_ cry’d kitchin-stuff, and _Roxano_ had a little
basket of tripe and trotters; _Agamemnon_ sold bak’d ox-cheek, hot, hot;
_Hannibal_ sells _Spanish_-nuts, come crack it away; the so famous
_Hector_ of _Troy_ is a head-dresser; the _Decii_ keep a coblers-stall,
in the corner of the _Forum_, and the _Horatii_ a chandler’s-shop;
_Sardanapalus_ cries lilly-white-vinegar, and _Heliogabalus_ bakes
fritters, in the _via appia_ of this metropolis; _Lucius Æmilius Paulus_
is a bayliff’s follower, and the famous queen _Thomyris_ proportions out
the offals for _Cerberus_; _Tarquin_ sweeps his den, and _Romulus_ is a
turnspit in _Pluto_’s kitchen; _Artaxerxes_ is an under scullion, and
_Pompey_ the magnificent, a rag-man; _Mark Anthony_, that disputed his
mistress at the price of the whole universe, goes now about with
dancing-dogs, a monkey and a rope; _Cleopatra_, that could swallow a
province at one draught, when it was to drink her lover’s health,
submits now to the humble employment of feeding _Proserpine_’s pigs:
that luxurious _Roman_, who was once so dissolv’d in ease, as that a
very rose-leaf doubled under him, prevented his rest, is now labouring
at the anvil with a half hundred hammer; _Oliver Cromwell_ is a
rat-catcher, and my lord _Bellew_ a chimney-sweeper.
There was besides these, a list of people nearer hand; but you may
easily guess upon what score they are left out of the list. We needed
not have gone so far back in the records of persons and things, to have
met instances of barbarity, luxury, avarice, lust of dominion, as well
as of sensuality. Malversations of government in sovereigns and
subjects; publick justice avoided, private feuds fomented, every thing
sacrificed to a _Colbert_, _Maintenon_, or a _Loüis_.
There is somebody hollows most damnably on the other side of _Styx_, and
lest I lose this opportunity, I shall only relate some memorable things
to you: Therefore pray pardon me that I cannot dilate upon every
particular. In short then, _Alexander_ the Great is bully to a
guinea-dropper; and cardinal _Mazarine_ keeps a nine-holes; _Mary_ of
_Medicis_ foots stockings, and _Katherine_, queen of _Sweedland_ cries
two bunches a penny card-matches, two bunches a penny; _Henry_ the
fourth of _France_ carries a rary-show; and _Mahomet_, muscles; _Seneca_
keeps a fencing-school, and _Julius Cæsar_ a two-penny ordinary;
_Xenophon_, that great philosopher, cries cucumbers to pickle; and
_Cato_ is the perfectest Sir _Courtly_ of the whole _Plutonian_ kingdom;
_Richelieu_ cries topping bunno; and the late pope, any thing to day;
_Lewis_ the thirteenth is a corn-cutter; _Gustavus Adolphus_ cries
sparrowgrass, with a thousand more particulars of this nature. You must
allow the scenes to be mightily alter’d from their former stations; but
alas! Sir, this change we suffer, and as pleasure is the reward of
virtue, so disgrace and infamy is of cruelty, pride, and hypocrisy. What
can be more surprising than to see the renowned _Penthefilea_, queen of
the _Amazons_, crying new almanacks, and _Darius_ gingerbread, _van
Trump_ cries ballads, and admiral _de Ruyter_ long and strong
thread-laces.
This disproportion is their punishment; for it must be anxious to the
last degree, to fall so low even beyond a possibility of rising again.
That is the advantage of moving in an humble sphere; they are not
capable of those enormities that the great ones can hardly avoid; for
temptation will generally have the better of mankind.
_I rest_,
_Yours in haste._
[Illustration]
PERKIN WARBECK _to the pretended Prince of_ Wales. _By Capt._ AYLOFF.
_Dear Cousin Sham_,
We had a fierce debate here on the 13th _passato_, between my lord
_Fitz-Walter_, Sir _Simon Mountford_, Sir _William Stanley_, and myself;
whether by a parity of reason, _England_ might not once more have the
same card trumpt up upon them? In a word, we were consulting your
affairs, and they were most of ’em of opinion, that there could not be
any good success expected from your personal endowments, and princely
qualifications. For you must give me leave to tell you, _Cuz_, that I
was a smart child, and a smock-fac’d youth; I had not the good luck to
kill a wild boar at your years, but I could sit the great horse before I
could go alone, I had all the advantages of friends that you have, and
the interest of my good aunt the duchess or _Burgundy_, let me tell you,
was as capable of seconding me, as the house of _Modena_ is you: Nay, I
had the _Scotch_ on my side, assistance from _Ireland_, and not without
a party, you see, even in _England_ too. But the _English_ mob is the
most giddy, wretched, senseless mob of all the mobs in the world. How
they crowded into me at _Whitsand-Bay_, and in their first fury fought
well enough before _Exeter_: But when they heard of an army coming
against ’em, the scoundrels ran away and left me; all my blooming hopes
and fancied kingdoms dwindled away in a sanctuary, that I exchanged for
a prison, and brought my _Habeas Corpus_, and so turn’d myself over to
_Tyburn_, and am now in the rules of _Acheron_. Our kinsman _Lambert
Simnel_ and I, drank your health t’other morning in a curious cup of
_Styx_, and the arch sawcy rogue, said, how he should laugh to see his
brother of _Wales_ succeed him in this great employment at court;
continually turning a spit would harden and inure you, and so prepare
you for these smoaky and warmer climates: not but that there is matter
of speculation in it too. The turning a spit is an emblem of the
vicissitude of human affairs. But before I take my leave, good cousin,
I must offer a little of my advice to you, if it be possible any ways to
meliorate your destiny; and that is, that you would make a campaign or
two in _Italy_: Marshal _Villeroy_ will shew you what it is to be well
beaten; and till then you’ll never be a great general. But _Charon_ is
just landing a multitude of _French_ from those parts; I must go see
what news, and inform myself further of your welfare and prosperity.
_Adieu._
_Mr._ DRYDEN, _to the Lord_---- _By Capt._ AYLOFF.
_My lord_,
On the 25th _passato_, there happen’d a very considerable dispute in the
_Delphick_ vale; the _literati_ had hard words, and it was fear’d by
_Pluto_ himself, that the angry shades would come to somewhat worse. It
may be you in those grosser regions, do not believe that we here below
lose nothing of ourselves by death, but the terrene part: nay, the very
soul itself retains some of those unhappy impressions it receiv’d from
flesh and blood. Here _Cæsar_ bites his thumbs when _Alexander_ walks
by; frowns upon _Brutus_, and blushes when he talks of king _William_:
The great _Gustavus Adolphus_ only wishes himself upon earth again, to
serve a captain under him: _Turenne_ wants to be in _Italy_, and
_Wallesteen_ assures him that prince _Eugene_ of _Savoy_ would have had
the same glorious success against him, as _Catinat_ and _Villeroy_.
_Hannibal_ own’d that his march over, or rather thro’ the _Alpes_, was
not so honourable an action as the prince’s; and tho’ arts and
experience may make a general, yet nature can only inform an _Eugene_.
Surly _Charon_ had been so plagu’d with the _French_ from those parts,
that he has been forc’d to leave whole shoals of them behind. Once they
crowded in so fast, as they almost overset the boat, and still as they
press’d forward, cry’d _Vauban, Vauban_: But the old gentleman,
unwilling to hazzard himself, push’d a multitude of them back with his
sculls, and so put off---- However, this is not the business I design’d
to mention; something more particular, and of more weighty consequence
is the occasion of this letter. The real wits refus’d to take notice of
prince _Arthur_, and king _Arthur_, who were walking hand in hand; some
shallow-pated versificators would resent the indignity put upon ’em.
This was very disgusting to the _literati_, and it is inconceivable what
a horrid stench they made with uttering those verses. The more robust
spirits were almost choak’d; you may then judge what condition the
delicate and nice stomachs of the men of wit were in; but while every
one was wishing for their cloaths of humanity again to be less sensible
of this execrable smell, a worthy _literati_ came in from _London_, who
being informed of the occasion of that terrible inconveniency, repeated
a few commendatory verses, and immediately the air grew tolerable, and
the brimstone burnt serene. _Job_ himself did confess, that had he been
in the flesh again, he was terribly afraid he should have murder’d the
doctor: When a merry spirit standing at his elbow, said, it was no such
wonderful thing to have a sirreverence of a man be mine arse of a poet.
But _Charon_ waits, I must conclude; and as conveniency serves, shall
inform you of what passes in those gloomy regions.
_A Letter from Mr._ ABRAHAM COWLEY, _to the_ Covent-Garden
_Society. By Capt._ AYLOFF.
The shatter’d lawrels of the _Acherontic_-walks, owe not so much of
their misfortune to the shallowness of _Aganippe_, as to the ungenerous
procedure of the sons of _Helicon_. Either the hill of _Parnassus_ is
fortify’d, and what with antient and modern wit, even you, gentlemen of
real parts, have none of you that applause, which in a thousand
occasions you have so justly merited. These melancholy reflections,
gentlemen, add a new thickness to the gloomy sulphur; and we cannot
enjoy a perfect quiet here, seeing there is so great and so dangerous a
misunderstanding between you on the other side of _Phlegethon_. Why
should there be so many pointed satires against one another? Why mould
you shew the very blockheads themselves where you men of sense are not
quite such as you would pass upon the world for? Your invidious
criticisms only shew others where you are vulnerable, and give an
argument under your own hand against your own selves. There is a charity
in concealing faults; but to make them more obvious, has a double
ill-nature in it. Can’t _Arthur_ be a worthless poem, but a squadron of
poets must tell all the world so? Is there honour in rummaging a
dunghil, or telling the neighbours where there is one? The bee gathers
honey from every flower, ’tis the beetles that delight in horse-dung. Is
it not much more preferable to make something ones self useful to
mankind, than only to shew wherein another is a coxcomb? Partisans in
wit never do well; they only lay the country waste; they gratify their
own private spleen, it may be, but they do not help the publick. Unite
your forces, gentlemen, against ignorance, that growing and powerful
enemy to you and us. Erect triumphal arches, to one another, and do not
enviously pull down what others are endeavouring to set up. Your mutual
quarrels have shaken the very foundation of wit and good humour. ’Tis
the faction a man is of, determines what he is, not his learning and
parts; we cannot hear, gentlemen, of those intestine dissensions,
without a great concern and displeasure; and must take the liberty to
tell you, we apprehend the muses may shortly be reduced to the necessity
of shutting up the _Delphic_ library, and write upon the doors, _Ruit
ipsa suis Roma viribus_.
CHARON _to the most Illustrious and High-born_ JACK CATCH, _Esq; by
Capt._ AYLOFF.
_Most worthy Kinsman and Benefactor_,
I cannot but with the last degree of sorrow and anguish, inform you of
our present wretched condition; we have even tired our palms, and our
ribs at slappaty-pouch; and if it had not been for some gentlemen that
came from the coasts of _Italy_, I had almost forgot to handle my
sculls. There came a sneaking ghost here, some a day or two or three
ago, and he surpriz’d me with an account, (I may call it indeed a
terrible one) that you have had a maiden-sessions in your metropolis.
Was it then possible that _Newgate_ should be without a rogue, or our
patron, the most worshipful Sir _Senseless Lovel_ without any execution
in his mouth? You talk of having hang’d _Tyburn_ in mourning: Why cousin
_Catch_, upon my sincerity, and for fear you should question my
veracity, by the thickest mud in _Acheron_, I swear, it is almost high
time that my boat was in mourning. What, he upon the bench and no man
hang’d! Well, as assuredly as the blood of the horses will rise up in
judgment against our friend _Whitney_: this maiden-sessions shall rise
up in judgment against him. Such shoals as I have had from time to time,
meer sacrifices to his avarice or his malice, that unless his conscience
begins to fly in his face, I cannot comprehend what should occasion this
calm at the _Old-Baily_: For give me leave, dear cousin, to tell you,
that formerly he never sav’d any man for his money, but hang’d another
in his room; trading was then pretty good, cousin, and there was a penny
to be got; but indeed, on your side it is very dull: nay, in _Flanders_
too, that fertile soil of blood and wounds, there has not one leg nor
one arm been brought us all this summer. Prithee be you _Charon_, and
let me be recorder, I’ll warrant you somewhat more to do.
_From Sir_ BARTHOLOMEW---- _to the Worshipful Serjeant_ S----. _By the
same Hand._
The friendship that was between us formerly, equally obliges me to give
you a relation of my travels, and assures me of its welcome. Since my
peregrination from your factious regions, I have palled over various and
stupendious lakes; the roads are somewhat dark indeed, but the continued
exhalations of those amazing streams, make the travellers able to pass,
without running foul of one another. But ’tis equally remarkable,
considering the length and darkness of the passage, that no person was
ever cast away on this river _Styx_, as I am credibly inform’d by the
ferryman, who has ply’d here time out of mind. The dogs are pretty rife
in this country, and full as insufferable as ever they were among you: I
unfortunately forgot my lozenge-box, and have much impair’d my lungs;
but they assure me, that these defluxions of rheums never kill. ’Tis
prodigious, I protest, brother, to see how soon we learn the language,
or rather jargon of the place! how fast they come in from all parts of
the habitable world! And yet there is but one boat neither, and that no
bigger than above-bridge-wherry. At my coming ashoar, I was very
familiarly entertain’d, and directed to an apartment in _Cocytus_: But
there was not one corner in all my passage, but I met some or other of
the wrangling fraternity of _Westminster_. I immediately suggested to
myself, that there might be (peradventure) a call of serjeants by his
majesty _Pluto_, who is sovereign of these gloomy regions; and who
besides his general residence here, has a most magnificent palace about
twenty miles off, at _Erebus_, on the side of the river _Phlegethon_. He
is one of a somewhat stern aspect, not easy of access; haughty in his
deportment, and barbarous to the last degree in his nature. There is no
sort of people he sets so much by, as those of our profession, tho’ I
have not heard of any lawyer that had the honour to be in his cellar as
yet. Our old friend and fellow-toper judge _D_---- has very good
business here, upon my word, as likely to be preferr’d, as vacancies
happen; for ’tis always term-time in this kingdom throughout; and
besides, when he had his _quietus_ sent him by the hands of Sir
_Thin-chops Mors_, you and I remember very well, that he had not the
best reputation for a man of parts. In the crowd of our pains-taking
brethren in the litigious school, I remark’d an innumerable quantity
that I was not quite an utter stranger to their faces, more
particularly, Mr. _Fil_----, who, you know, did not want for sense, wit,
law, and good manners; and yet had so profound a genious, that he could
dispatch more business, and more wine in one night’s time, than _Bob.
Weeden_ would have wish’d for a patrimony: He very humanly accosted me,
and after a million of mutual civilities, he forced me to accept of my
mornings draught with him. At night you know, I never refuse my bottle;
but for morning tippling, it was always my aversion, my abomination, my
hatred, my _noli me tangere_: Besides, the dismal prospect of the place,
gave me many shrewd suspicions, that those taverns were not furnish’d
with the best accommodations, neither for man’s meat, or horse meat
either; not that I had the vanity to take my coach with me neither, but
’tis to use an old proverb, that as yet I have not blotted out of my
memory. I had hardly disengag’d myself from his civilities, but Mr.
_Nicholas Hard--_ mighty gravely admonish’d me of his former
familiarity, and with an air that was no ways contumelious, desir’d to
know how _F_---- preach’d, and _Burg_---- pray’d; whether the grave Dr.
_W_---- continued his pious endeavours to convert the martyr’d men of
his parish from the crying and heinous sin of _ebriety_; and yet at the
same instant almost, to contrive plausible ways and means of perverting
the modest and chaste propensities of their respective wives; and while
they would not quietly let their husbands be (by accident of good
company, or good wine) beasts, for but a few transitory nocturnal hours,
could yet drive to make them so beyond a possibility of redress; for
amongst friend, (brother) what collateral security can an honest,
prudent, wary, wise, good, upright, understanding, cautious, indulgent,
loving husband take, when that same godly man in black twirls his
primitive band-strings, and with his other hand has your dear spouse,
your help-mate, the wife of your bosom, the partner of your bed, by the
conscience, and somewhat else that begins with the same letter? ’Twas
not want of leisure, (for alas! and alack) we have supernumerary hours
here; but pretended curiosity, (the last thing that dies with us but
hypocrisy) made me cut short the harangue, that this precise attorney
seem’d by his demureness to expect from me: So, in short, I told him,
that his fellow-companions at six o’ clock prayers had not forgot him;
and by what I could understand from those that were last with me, the
pew-keeper lamented his loss extreamly: nay, was inconsolable, for now
he was forced to use a pailful of water extraordinary once a week more
in the church than formerly; because he had gotten to such a perfection
in hypocrisy, that what his knees did not rub clean, his eyes always
wash’d clean: but for his father’s comfort, since he was got clear of
his _super-tartarian_ concern, money was fallen, and his dearest darling
sin of all, extortion, was not a little under the hatches: but that he
might not be quite cast down, there was some seeds of it left still,
that would always keep old _Charon_ well employ’d. I had hardly bless’d
myself for having got rid of him, but a merry fellow (not to say
impertinent and sawcy to one of my capacity, volubility, and eloquence;
character, conduct, and reputation) pull’d me by the coif; but as in
strange places ’tis prudence to pass by small affronts and indignities,
because want of acquaintance is worse than want of knowledge; and the
law, you know brother, is not so expensive, as it is captious in the
main; not but that our industry does help it mightily to the one, if we
find it to be the other. Now who should this _Caitiff_ be, but _Harry
C----ff_ the attorney; and all his mighty business was to know how his
laundress did; and if the maid got the better of her in the legacy he
gave her for her last consolations. Before I could recollect the secret
history of his amours, I was very courteously address’d by Mr. Common
Serjeant _C----p_, who likewise in a florid stile, requested me to
inform him, if any of his modern bawds, that so punctually attended him,
had suffer’d any prejudice by his absence: He was mightily in doubt of
their success, because experience had taught him, that _paupers_ in
matters of law proceed but heavily; however, he could but wish them
well, because that tho’ they were bad clients, he had always found them
good procurators---- My lady _Tysiphone_ made a sumptuous entertainment,
and the countess of _Clotho_ danc’d smartly; the king of _Spain_
resented mightily that so many _English_ were there, and had almost bred
a quarrel; but _Don Sebastian_ king of _Portugal_, made up the matter,
by declining the _Spanish_ faction, and said, it was highly unjust that
the _English_ should be male-treated in their universal interest,
because he was a fool, and the cardinal that made his will a knave, and
the king of _France_ a tyrant. But the catastrophe of this fit of the
spleen of the supercilious _Spaniard_ was comical enough; for in the
crowd that was come together upon the notice of his heart-burning, who
should stumble upon one another but _Godfrey Wood_---- the attorney, who
you may remember (brother) was committed for saying to a certain lord
chancellor, that he was his first maker; tho’ the truth of the matter
was, their intimacy at play made him presume to beg the small favour of
his lordship, to pass an unjust decree in favour of his client. Well,
Sir, said the attorney to his lordship, now you are without your mace, I
must tell you, that had not you invited me to supper the same day you
sent me to the _Fleet_, I should have taken the freedom to have let you
known, that in this king’s dominions we are all equal. I left ’em hard
at all-fours for a quart of _Acheron_, where they bite their nails like
mad, and divert others with their passion and concern---- But the
postillion is mounting, and I must defer the rest of my adventurers to
the next opportunity.
_The End of the first Part._
[Illustration]
LETTERS
FROM THE
DEAD _to the_ LIVING.
PART II.
_A Letter from Seignior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO, _High-German Doctor and
Astrologer in_ Brandinopolis, _to his Friends at_ WILL_’s
Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden. _By Mr._ THO. BROWN.
_Gentlemen_,
Unless my memory fails me since my coming into these subterranean
dominions, ’twas much about this time last year, that I did myself the
honour to write to you: perhaps you expected a frequenter commerce from
me; and indeed, I should have been very proud to have maintained it on
my side, since nothing so much relieves me in these gloomy regions, as
to reflect on the many pleasant moments I have formerly pass’d in
_Covent-Garden_; but, alas! gentlemen, not to mention the great
difficulty of keeping such a correspondence, our lower world is nothing
near so fruitful in news as yours; one single sheet of paper will almost
contain the occurrences of a whole year; and were it not for the
numerous crowds of _Spaniards_, _French_, _Poles_, _Germans_, &c. that
daily arrive here, and entertain us with the transactions of _Europe_,
hell would be as melancholy a place as _Westminster-Hall_ in the long
vacation; and the generality of people among us would have as little to
employ their idle hours, as a lord-treasurer in _Scotland_, or a barber
in _Muscovy_. Besides, to speak more particularly, as to myself, that
everlasting hurry and tide of business, wherein I hive been overwhelm’d
ever since I honour’d myself with the title of _High-German_ doctor and
astrologer, does so entirely challenge all my time, that if you will
take my word, (and I hope you don’t suspect a person of my veracity) I
am forc’d, at this present writing, to deny myself to all my patients,
tho’ there are at least some half a score coaches with coronets waiting
now at my door, that I might receive no interruption from any visitants,
while I was dispatching this epistle to you.
My last, gentlemen, as you may easily remember, if you have not buried
such a trifle in oblivion, concluded with my taking a large house here
in _Brandinopolis_, and setting up for a physician and fortune-teller: I
shall now proceed to acquaint you, by what laudable artifices and
stratagems I advanced myself into that mighty reputation; in which, to
the admiration of this populous town, I at present flourish; what
notable cures I have performed, what sort of customers chiefly resort to
me; and lastly, To give you a short account of the most memorable
occurrences that have lately happen’d in these parts.
By the direction of my worthy friend, Mr. _Nokes_, who liberally
supply’d me with money to carry on this affair, I took a spacious house
in the great _Piazza_ here, then empty by the death of one of the most
eminent physicians of this famous city. This you must own to me,
gentlemen, was as favourable a step at my first setting out, as a man
could possibly wish; for you cannot be ignorant how many sorry brothers
of the faculty in _London_ keep their coaches, and wriggle themselves
into business, with no other merit to recommend them, than that of
dwelling in the same house where a celebrated doctor lived before them.
For this reason, I suppose, it was, (if you can pardon so short a
digression) that the popes came to monopolize the ecclesiastical
practice of the western world to themselves, by succeeding so great a
bishop as St. _Peter_. So much is the world govern’d by appearances, and
so apt to be cheated, as if knowledge and learning were bequeath’d to
one house or place; and like a piece of common furniture, went to the
next inhabiter.
But to dismiss this speculation, which perhaps may seem somewhat odd,
from a man of my merry character; having provided my house with every
thing convenient, adorn’d my hall with the pictures of _Galen_,
_Hippocrates_, _Albumazar_, and _Paracelsus_; cramm’d my library with a
vast collection of books, in all arts and languages, (tho’ under the
rose be it spoken, my worthy friends, your humble servant does not
understand a syllable of them) furnish’d it with a pair of globes
curiously painted, with the _exuviæ_ of two or three _East-India_
animals, a rattlesnake and a crocodile; and set up a fine elaboratory in
my court-yard. In short, after having taken care to set off my hall,
parlour and study, with all those noble decorations that serve to amuse
the multitude, and create strange ideas in them, I order’d a spacious
stage to be erected before my own habitation, got my bills ready
printed, together with a long catalogue of the cures perform’d by me,
during the time of my practising physick in your upper world; and then I
broke out with a greater expectation and _eclat_ than any doctor before
me was ever known to do.
Three or four weeks before I made my appearance in publick, which, as I
told you before, I intended to make with all the magnificence
imaginable, Mr. _Nokes_ and I, in conjunction with my brother comedian,
_Tony Lee_, laid our heads together, how to sham me upon the town for a
_virtuoso_, a miracle-monger, and what not. To favour this design, we
sent for three or four topping apothecaries to the tavern, gave them a
noble collation, and when half a dozen bumpers of wine had got us a free
admission into their hearts, we fairly let them into the secret; which
was, That they were to trumpet me up in all coffee-houses and places of
publick resort in town, for the ablest physician that ever came into
these parts; and as one kindness justly challenges another, I for my
part was to write bills as tall as the monument, and charge them with
the most costly medicines, tho’ they signify’d nothing at all to the
patient’s recovery. In short, the bargain was immediately struck up
between us; and those worthy gentlemen, I’ll say that for them, have not
been wanting to proclaim my extraordinary merits to all their
acquaintance.
This was not all; but Mr. _Nokes_, who was resolv’d at any rate to
introduce me into business, coming into one of the best frequented
chocolate-houses near the court, (for _Brandinopolis_, you must know, is
a perfect transcript of your wicked city) on a sudden pretends to be
troubled with intolerable gripings of the guts; and acted his part so
dextrously, that all the company pitied him, and thought he would expire
upon the spot. Immediately two or three doctors were sent for; who,
after a tedious consultation, at last pitch’d upon a never-failing
remedy, as they were pleas’d to call it; which accordingly they apply’d,
but without the desired effect. As his pains still continued upon him,
_What_, says he, _must I die here for want of help? And is there never
another physician to be had for love nor money?_ With that a certain
gentleman, that was posted there for that purpose, Sir, says he, there’s
a _German_ doctor lately come here, but for my part, I dare not
recommend him to you, for he’s a perfect stranger to us, and no body
knows him. _Oh, send for him, send for him_, cries Mr. _Nokes_, _these_
German _doctors are the finest fellows in the world; who can tell but he
may give me present ease?_ Upon this, a messenger was hurried to me with
all expedition: I told him I would come so soon as I had dispatch’d a
patient or two; and in a quarter of an hour came thundering to the door
in my chariot, and all the way pored upon a little book I carried in my
hands; tho’ I must frankly own to you, that a coach is as uncomfortable
a place to read, as to consummate in; but, gentlemen, ’tis with us here,
as in your world, nothing is to be done without policy and trick:
marching into the room with that gravity and solemn countenance, which
we physicians know so well to put on upon these occasions, and brushing
thro’ a numerous crowd of spectators, who stood there, expecting to see
what would be the result of this affair, I found Mr. _Nokes_ in such
terrible agonies, that any man would have swore he could not out-live
another minute. I felt his pulse, and told him, that by the
irregularities of his systole, and unequal vibration of his diastole, I
knew as well what ail’d him, as if I had seen him taken to pieces like
a watch; and plucking a small chrystal bottle out of my pocket, Sir,
says I to him, take some half a score drops of this _Anodyne Elixir_,
and I’ll engage all I am worth in the world, it will immediately relieve
you. But, under favour, Sir, to give you some short account of it before
you take it, you must understand, Sir, ’tis composed of two costly and
sovereign ingredients, which no man, besides myself, dares pretend to.
The first, Sir, is the celebrated balsam of _Chili_, (tho’ by the by,
the devil a jot of balsam, comes from that _Pagan_ place) and the
second, Sir, that most excellent cephalick, which the mongrelian
physicians call, the _electrum_ of _Samogitia_, gather’d at certain
seasons, Sir, upon the shore of the _Deucalidonian_ ocean, by the
_Ciracassian_ fishermen. Mr. _Nokes_ listned to this edifying discourse
with wonderful attention, then followed my direction; and before you
could count twenty, got upon his legs, took a few turns about the room,
cut a caper a yard high, and kindly embracing me, doctor, says he, I am
more obliged to you, than words are able to express; you have delivered
me from the most intolerable pains that ever poor wretch groan’d under:
and then presenting me with a purse of guineas, I hope you’ll be pleas’d
to accept of this small trifle, till I am in a capacity of making you a
better acknowledgment: However, to express in some measure my gratitude
to yourself, as likewise to shew my regard for the publick welfare, I
will take care to get the extraordinary cure advertised in the
_Gazette_, and other publick papers. I told him he had more than paid me
for so inconsiderable a a matter, adding, That I was at his service
whenever he or any of his friends would do me the honour to send for me;
and so took my leave of him.
This miraculous operation (for so they were pleased to christen it)
occasion’d a great deal of talk in the town, very much to my advantage;
but what happen’d three days after, perfectly confirm’d all sorts of
people, that I was a _Non-pareil_ in my profession, and out-went all
that ever pretended to physick before me.
_Tony Lee_, who, as I told you in my last, keeps a conventicle in this
infernal world, and was engag’d as well as my brother _Nokes_ in the
confederacy to serve me, took occasion to be surpris’d with apoplectick
fits in the beginning of his sermon; he had hardly split and divided his
text, according to the usual forms, but his eyes rowl’d in his head,
every muscle in his face was distorted; he foam’d at mouth, fumbled with
the cushion, over-set the hour-glass, dropp’d his notes and bible upon
the clerk’s head, and at last down he sunk as flat as a flounder to the
bottom of the pulpit. ’Tis impossible to describe to you what a strange
consternation the auditory were in at this calamitous disaster that had
befallen their minister: the men stared at one another, as they had been
all bewitch’d; and the women set up such a hideous screaming and
roaring, that I question whether they would have done so much if a
regiment of dragoons had broke into the room to ravish them. The duchess
of _Mazarine_ chafed his temples; Mother _Stratford_ (of pious memory)
lugg’d a brandy-bottle out of her pocket, and rubb’d his nostrils; but
still poor _Tony_ continu’d senseless, and without the least motion.
When they found all these means ineffectual, at last the whole
congregation unanimously resolv’d to send for me; who, according as it
had been agreed before-hand between us, soon brought my holy _Levite_ to
his senses again, by applying a few drops of my aforesaid _Elixir_ to
his temples. Honest _Tony_ was no sooner recover’d, but I had the thanks
of the whole assembly; and a reverend elder in a venerable band, that
reach’d from shoulder to shoulder, offer’d me a handsome gratuity for my
pains; but I refus’d it, telling him, I look’d upon myself sufficiently
rewarded, since I had been the happy (tho’ unworthy) instrument in the
hand of providence (and then I turn’d up the whites of my eyes most
religiously towards Heaven) to save the life of so precious and powerful
a divine.
This pair of miraculous cures flew thro’ every street, alley, and corner
of the town, like a train of gun-powder, with more expedition and
improvements, than scandal used, in my time, to walk about _Whitehall_;
and as it usually happens, in these cases, lost nothing in the relation.
The godly party much magnify’d me for refusing the unrighteous _mammon_
when it was offer’d me; my two trusty apothecaries talk’d of nothing but
the prodigies of seignior _Hanesio_; but my surest cards, the midwives
and nurses, when the sack-posset and brandy began to operate in their
noddles, thought they could never say enough in my commendation.
Thus, gentlemen, I had abundantly secur’d to myself the reputation of a
great physician; and nothing now remain’d, but to make the world believe
I was personally acquainted with every star in the firmament, could
extort what confessions I pleas’d out of the planets; and was no less
skill’d in astrology than in medicine. My never failing friend _Tony_,
was once more pleas’d to give me a lift upon this occasion. As the
dissenting ministers (you know) have the privilege to go into the
bed-chambers and closets of the ladies that resort to their meetings,
without the least offence or scandal, _Tony_ spy’d his opportunity, when
the room was clear, rubb’d off with a gold watch, and some lockets of
the duchess of _Mazarine_’s. The things were immediately missing, but
who durst suspect a person of the pious Mr. _Lee_’s character and
function? In short, every servant in the family was threatened with the
rack; and the whole house, trunks, coffers, boxes, and all examin’d,
from the garret down to the cellar. The poor duchess took the loss of
her watch and lockets mightily to heart, kept her bed upon it for a
fortnight; but at last was perswaded to make her application to my
worship. I told her, _sur le champ_, that her things were safe, that the
party who made bold with them, being troubled with compunctions of
conscience, had not sold but hid them under such a tree, which I
described to her in queen _Proserpine_’s park; and that if she went
thither next morning by break of day, she would find my words true.
Accordingly as I predicted, it happened to a tittle (for I had taken
care to lodge them there the night before). And now who was the
universal subject of people’s discourse, but the famous seignior
_Giusippe_.
So that when the long expected day came, on which I was to make my
publick appearance, the streets, windows and balconies, were so cramm’d
with spectators of all sorts, that as often as I think on’t, I pity my
poor lord-mayor and aldermen with all my heart, that their
_Cheapside_-show shou’d fall so infinitely short of mine. _Tom
Shadwell_, who still keeps up his musical talent in these gloomy
territories, began the entertainment with thrumming upon an old broken
theorbo, and merry Sir _John Falstaff_ sung to him, and afterwards both
of them walk’d upon the slack rope, in a pair of jack-boots, to the
admiration of all the beholders. After the mob had been diverted for
some time with entertainments of this nature, and, particularly, by some
legerdemain tricks of _Appollonius Tyanæus_, my conjurer, being attended
by Dr. _Connor_, my toad-eater in ordinary, Mr. _Lobb_, the late
presbyterian parson, my corn-cutter; Sir _Patient Ward_, my
merry-andrew, and the famous _Mithridates_ king of _Pontus_, my orator,
I mounted the stage, and bowing on each side me, paid my respects to the
noble company, in a most ceremonious manner. I was apparell’d in a black
velvet coat, trimm’d with large gold loops of the newest fashion, and
buttons as big as ostrich’s eggs; my muff was at least an ell long. I
travers’d my stage some half a score times, then cocking my beaver, and
holding up my cane close to my nose after the manner of us sons of
_Galen_, I harangu’d them as follows: In the first place I told them,
That it was not without the utmost regret, that I saw so many quacks and
nauseous pretenders to the faculty, daily impose upon the publick. That
neither ambition, self-interest, or the like sordid motive, had tempted
me to expose myself thus upon the theatre of the world; and that nothing
but a generous zeal to rescue medicine out of the hands of a pack of
rascals, that were a dishonour to it, and the particular respect I bore
to the inhabitants of the most renown’d city of _Brandinopolis_; who for
their good breeding and civility to strangers, were not to be equall’d
in any of _Pluto_’s dominions, had prevail’d over my natural modesty,
and drawn me out of my beloved obscurity; that lastly, I requested a
favourable construction upon this publick way of practice, which some
impudent emperics (whom I scorn to mention) had render’d scandalous; and
as I was a graduate in several universities, would have certainly
declin’d, but that my regard for the _salus populi_ superseded all those
scruples; and made me rather hazard the loss of my reputation with some
censorious persons, than lose any opportunity of exerting my utmost
abilities for the benefit of mankind.
When this harangue was over, I withdrew, and left the rest of the
ceremony to be perform’d by my orator _Mithridates_, who descanted a
long while upon my great experience and skill, my travels, and great
adventures in foreign countries; the testimonials, certificates, medals,
and the like favours, I had receiv’d from most of the crown’d heads and
princes in the universe. And when this was over, order’d _Matt.
Gilliflower_ and _Dick Bently_, two of my footmen to disperse printed
copies of my bill among the people, together with the catalogue of the
cures by me formerly perform’d in your upper hemisphere; both which
papers, because they contain something singular in them, and are written
above the common strain, I have given my self the trouble to transcribe.
_Thesaurum & talentum ne abscondas in agro._
_Signior_ GUISIPPE HANESIO, High German _Astrologer
and Chymist; seventh son of a son, unborn doctor of
above sixty years experience, educated at twelve universities,
having travelled thro’ fifty two kingdoms, and
been counsellor to counsellors of several monarchs_.
_Hoc juris publici in communem utilitatem publicum fecit._
Who by the blessing of _Æsculapius_ on his great pains, travels,
and nocturnal lucubrations, has attain’d to a greater share of
knowledge than any person before him was ever known to do.
_Imprimis_, Gentlemen, I present you with my universal solutive, or
_Cathartic Elixir_, which corrects all the cacochymic and
cachexical diseases of the intestines; cures all internal and
external diseases, all vertiginous vapours, hydrocephalus,
giddiness, or swimming of the head, epileptic fits, flowing of the
gall, stoppage of urine, ulcers in the womb and bladder; with many
other distempers, not hitherto distinguish’d by name.
_Secondly_, My friendly pill, call’d, _the never failing
Heliogenes_, being the tincture of the sun, and deriving vigour,
influence and dominion, from the same light; it causes all
complexions to laugh or smile, even in the very time of taking it;
which it effects, by dilating and expanding the gelastic muscles,
first of all discover’d by my self. It dulcifies the whole mass of
the blood, maintains its
[Illustration: _Joe Haynes’s Mountebankˢ Speech_
_Vol: II. P. 140._]
circulation, reforms the digestion of the chylon, fortifies the
opthalmic nerves, clears the officina intelligentiæ, corrects the
exorbitancy of the spleen, mundifies the hypogastrium, comforts the
sphincter, and is an excellent remedy against the prosopochlorosis,
or green-sickness, sterility, and all obstructions whatever. They
operate seven several ways in, order, as nature herself requires;
for they scorn to be confin’d to any particular way of operation,
_viz._ hypnotically; by throwing the party into a gentle slumber;
hydrotically by their operitive faculty, in opening the interstitia
pororum; carthartically, by cleansing the bowels of all crudities
and tartarous mucilage, with which they abound; proppysmatically,
by forcing the wind downward; hydragogically, by exciting urine;
pneumatically, by exhilerating the spirits; and lastly,
synecdochically, by corroborating the whole _oeconomia animalis_.
They are twenty or more in every tin-box, sealed with my coat of
arms, which are, _Three clyster pipes erect_ gules, _in a field
argent_; my crest, _a bloody hand out of a mortar, emergent_; and
my supporters, _a Chymist and an Apothecary_. This _Tinctura
Solaris_, or most noble off-spring of _Hyperion_’s golden
influence, wipes off abstersively all those tenacious,
conglomerated, sedimental sordes, that adhere to the œsophagus and
viscera, extinguishes all supernatural ferments and ebullitions;
and, in fine, annihilates all the nosotrophical or morbific ideas
of the whole corporeal _compages_.
_Thirdly_, My _Panagion Outacousticon_, or auricular restorative:
were it possible to show me a man so deaf, that if a demiculverin
were to be let off under his ear, he could not hear the report, yet
these infallible drops (first invented by the two famous
physician-brothers, St. _Cosmus_, and St. _Damian_, call’d the
_Anargyri_ in the ancient _Greek_ menologies; and some forty years
ago, communicated to me by _Anastasio Logotheti_, a _Greek_ collier
at _Adrianople_, when I was invited into those parts to cure sultan
_Mahomet_ IV. of an elephantiasis in his diaphragm) would recover
his auditive faculty, and make him hear as smartly as an old
fumbling priest, when a young wench gives him account of her lost
maiden-head at the confessional.
_Fourthly_, My _Anodyne Spirit_, excellent to ease pain, when taken
inwardly, and applied outwardly, excellent for any lameness,
shrinking or contraction of the nerves; for eyes, deafness, pain
and noise in the ears; and all odontalgic, as well as podagrical
inflammations.
_Fifthly_, My _Antidotus Antivenerealis_; which effectually cures
all gonorrheas, carnosities in the delinquent part, tumours,
phymosis, paraphymosis, christalline priapisms, hemorrhoids,
cantillamata, ragades, bubos, imposthumations, carbuncles,
genicular nodes, and the like, without either baths or stoves; as
also without mercury so often destructive to the poor patient, with
that privacy, that the nearest relation shall not perceive it.
_Sixthly_, My _Pectoral Lozenges_, or _Balsam_ of _Balsams_, which
effectually carries off all windy and tedious coughs, spitting of
blood, wheezing in the larynx and ptyalismus, let it be never so
inveterate.
_Seventhly_, and _lastly_, My _Pulvis Vermifugus_, or _Antivermatic
Powder_ brings up the rear, so famous for killing and bringing away
all sorts of worms incident to human bodies breaking their
complicated knots in the _duodenum_, and dissolving the phlegmatick
crudities that produce those anthropophagous vermin. It has brought
away, by urine, worms as long as the may-pole in the _Strand_, when
it flourish’d in its primitive prolixity, tho’, I confess, not
altogether so thick. In short, ’tis a specifick catholicon for the
cholick, expels winds by eructation, or otherwise; accelerates
digestion, and creates an appetite to a miracle.
I dexterously couch the cataract or suffusion, extirpate wens of
the greatest magnitude, close up hair-lips, whether treble or
quadruple; cure the polipus upon the nose, and all scrophulous
tumours, cancers in the breast, _Noli me tangeri_’s, St.
_Anthony_’s fire, by my new invented _unguentum Antipyreticum_,
excrescences, or superfluous flesh in the mouth of the bladder or
womb; likewise I take the stone from women or maids without
cutting.
I have steel trusses, and instruments of a new invention, together
with never-failing medicines and methods to cure ruptures, and knit
the peritonæum. And here I cannot forbear to communicate an useful
piece of knowledge to the world, which is, that with the learned
_Villipandus_, in his excellent treatise, _de congrubilitate
materiæ primæ cum confessione Augustana_, I take a rupture to be a
relaxation of the natural cavities, at the bottom of the cremaster
muscles. But this, _en passant_, I forge all my self; nay my very
machines for safe and easy drawing teeth and obscure stumps. Mrs.
_Littlehand_, midwife to the princess of _Phlegethon_, can
sufficiently inform the women of my helps, and what I do for the
disruption of the fundament and uterus, and other strange
infirmities of the matrix, occasioned by the bearing of children,
violent coughing, heavy work, _&c._ which I challenge any person in
the _Acherontic_ dominions to perform, but my self.
If any woman be unwilling to speak to me, they may have the
conveniency of speaking to my wife, who is expert in all feminine
distempers. She has an excellent cosmetick water to carry off
freckles, sun-burn, or pimples; and a curious red pomatum to plump
and colour the lips. She can make red hair as white as a lilly; she
shapes the eyebrows to a miracle; makes low foreheads as high as
you please, has a never failing remedy for offensive breaths, a
famous essence to correct the ill scent of the arm-pits, a rich
water that makes the hair curl, a most delicate paste to smooth and
whiten the hands; also,
_A rare secret that takes away all warts,_
_From the face, hands, fingers, and privy-parts._
Those who are not able to come to me, let them send their urine,
especially that made after midnight, and on sight of it, I will
tell them what their distemper is, and whether curable or no. Nay,
let a man be in never so perfect health of body, his constitution
never so vigorous and athletical, if he shews me his water, I can
as infallibly predict what distemper will first attack him, though
perhaps it will be thirty or forty years hence, as an astronomer,
by the rules of his science, can foretel solar or lunar eclipses
the year before they happen. I have predicted miraculous things by
the pulse, far above any philosopher: by it, I not only discover
the circumstances of the body; but if the party be a woman, I can
foretel how many husbands and children she shall have; if a
tradesman whether his wife will fortify his forehead with horns;
and so of the rest. This is not all, but I will engage to tell any
serious persons what their business is on every radical figure,
before they speak one word; what has already happen’d to them from
their very infancy down to the individual hour of their consulting
me, what their present circumstances are, what will happen to them
hereafter; in what part of the body they have moles; what colour
and magnitude they are of; and lastly, how profited, that is,
whether they calminate equinoctially or horizontally upon the
_Mesogastrium_; from which place alone, and no other, as the
profound _Trismegistus_ has observ’d before me, in his elaborate
treatise _de erroribus Styli Gregoriani_, all solid conjectures are
to be formed.
I have likewise attained to the green, golden and black dragon,
known to none but magicians and hermatic philosophers; I tell the
meaning of all magical panticles, sigils, charms and lameness, and
have a glass, and help to further marriage; and what is more, by my
learning and great travels, I have obtained the true and perfect
seed and blossom of the female fern; and infinitely improv’d that
great traveller major _John Coke_’s famous necklaces for breeding
of teeth. The spring being already advanc’d, which is the properest
season for preventing new, and renewing old distempers, neglect not
this opportunity----
_My hours are from nine till twelve in the morning, and from two in
the afternoon till nine at night, every day in the week, except on
the real christian sabbath, called_ Saturday.
_It may be of use to keep this advertisement._
This, gentlemen, is an exact copy of my bill, which has been carefully
distributed all over this populous city, pasted upon the chief gates and
churches; and since dispersed by two running messengers, _Theophrastus
Paracelsus_ and _Cornelius Agrippa_, all over king _Pluto_’s dominions.
I forgot to tell you, that finding it absolutely necessary to take me a
wife, (the women in certain cases that shall be nameless, being
unwilling to consult any but those of their own sex) I was advised by
some friends to make my applications to the famous _Cleopatra_ queen of
_Egypt_, who being a person of great experience, and notably well
skill’d in the _Arcana_’s of nature, would in all probability make me an
admirable spouse. In short, after half a dozen meetings, rather for form
sake than any thing else, the bargain was struck, and a match concluded
between her _Alexandrian_ majesty and myself; cardinal _Wolsey_, who is
now curate of a small village, to the tune of four marks _per annum_,
and the magnificent perquisites of a bear and fiddle, perform’d the holy
ceremony: _Amphion_ of _Thebes_ diverted us at dinner with his crowd,
and all the while _Molinos_, the quietist, danced a _Lancashire_ jigg.
Sir _Thomas Pilkington_, who, as I told you in my last, is become a most
furious rhime-tagger or versificator, composed the _epithilamium_; and
_Sardanapalus_, _Caligula_, _Nero_, _Heliogabalus_, and pope _Alexander_
VII. were pleas’d to throw the stocking. Her majesty, to do her a piece
of common justice, proves a most dutiful and laborious wife, spreads all
my plaisters, makes all my unguents, distills all my waters, and pleases
my customers beyond expression.
Thus, gentlemen, you see my bill, by which you may guess whether I don’t
infinitely surpass those empty pretending quacks of your world, who
confine their narrow talent to one distemper, which they cure but by one
remedy; whereas all diseases are alike to me, and I have a hundred
several ways to extirpate them. I shall now trespass so far upon your
patience, as to present you with the catalogue of my cures, which being
somewhat singular, and out of the way, I have the vanity to believe will
not be unwelcome to you----
_A true and faithful Catalogue of some remarkable Cures perform’d
in the other_ World, _by the famous Signior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO,
_High-German_ Doctor _and_ Astrologer.
By PLUTO’s Authority.
_Hic est quam legis, ille quam requiris,_
_Totis notus in inferis_ JOSEPHUS.
Because I am so much a person of honour and integrity, that even in
this lower world I would not forfeit my reputation, I desire my
incredulous adversaries (of which number, being a stranger to this
place, I presume I have but too many) to get if they can to the
upper regions, and satisfy themselves of the truth of my admirable
performances. To begin then with those of quality.
Pope _Innocent_ the eleventh was so strangely over run with a
complication of _Jansenism_, _Quietism_, and _Lutheranism_, that
not only his nephew, Don _Livio Odeschalchi_, but the whole sacred
consistory despaired of his recovery; I so mundify’d his
intellectuals with my catholick essence of _Hellebore_, that he
continued _rectus in cerebro_ many years after; and if the _French_
ambassador, by making such a hubbub about his quarters, occasion’d
old infallibility to relapse, _Loüis le Grand_ must answer for it,
and not signior _Giusippe_.
I cured the late _Sophy_ of _Persia_, _Shaw Solyman_ by name, of a
_Febris Tumulenta_, so that he could digest the exactions and blood
of a whole province, hold his hand as steady as _Harry Killegrew_
after a quart of surfeit water in a morning; and if he dy’d
presently after, let his eunuchs and whores look to that, if one
with their politicks, and the other with their tails, spoil’d the
operation of my _Elixir magnum stomachicum_.
I cured _Aureng-Zebe_, the old mogul, of an _epilepsia fanatica_,
with which he was afflicted to that degree, that patents were
dispatch’d, and persons named to go ambassadors extraordinary to
_William Pen_, _George Whitehead_, _William Mede_; the
_Philadelphians_, _Cameronians_, _Jesuits_, and _Jacobian
Whiskerites_, for a communication of diseases and remedies; but by
my cephalick snuff and tincture, I made him as clear headed a rake
as ever got drunk with classics at the university, or expounded
_Horace_ in _Will_’s coffee-house; and messengers were sent thro’
all his empire to get him _Dutry_, _Bung_, _Satyrion_,
_Cantharides_, _Whores_, and _Schyraz wine_; and if he has since
fallen down to his _Alcoran_ and the flat effects of ninety seven
years of age, blame his damn’d courtiers and not me, that instead
of nicking the nice operation of the medicine, let in books and
priests, to debauch his understanding.
I cured the _Mahometan_ predestinarian _Sultan_ of the great _East
India_ island _Borneo_, of want of blood, by counselling him to
follow his inclinations and bathe in it, that he might restore
himself by spight and percolation; but vexations from his _Divan_,
the neighbour emperor of _China_, a saucy young jackanapes, and a
sorrel hair’d female gave him such jolts, that quite spoil’d the
continuance of the noblest cure in the world.
_Peter Alexowitz_, present czar of _Muscovy_, fell ill of a
_Calenture_ in _London_, occasion’d by putting too great a quantity
of gun-powder into his usquebaugh, and pepper into his brandy; all
the topping doctors of the town were sent for, and apply’d their
_Cortex_ and _Opium_ to no purpose. What should I do in this pinch,
but order’d a hole to be made in the _Thames_ for him, as they do
for the ducks in St. _James’s-Park_, it being then an excessive
frost, sous’d him over head and ears morning and night, and by this
noble experiment not only recovered him, but likewise gave a hint
to the setting up of a cold-bath near Sir _John Oldcastle_’s which
has done such miracles since.
I cured a noble peer, aged sixty seven, of a perpetual priapism, so
that now his pimping valets, and footmen, his bawds, spirit of
_Clary_, and a maidenhead of fourteen can hardly raise him, who
before was scarce to be trusted with his own family; nay, his own
wife: and now he’s as continent and virtuous a statesman as ever
lin’d his inward letchery with outward gravity.
A noble peeress, that lives not full a hundred miles from St.
_James_’s square, in the sixty sixth year of her age, was seiz’d
with a _furor uterinus_; by plying her ladyship with a few drops of
my _Antepyretical Essence_, extracted from a certain vegetable
gathered under the artic pole, and known to no body but myself, I
perfectly allay’d this preternatural ferment; and now she lies at
quiet, tho’ both her hands are unty’d as a new swaddled babe, and
handles no rascals but _Pam_, and his gay fellows of the cards.
_Honoraria Frail_, eldest daughter to my old lady _Frail_ of
_Red-Lyon-Square_, by too prodigally distributing _les dernieres
feveurs_ to her mother’s sandy pated coachman and pages, had so
strangely dilated the gates _du citadel d’amour_, that one might
have marched a regiment of dragoons thro’ them. Her mother, who was
in the greatest perplexities imaginable upon the score of this
disaster, sent to consult me: With half a dozen drops of my _Aqua
Styptica_, _Hymenealis_, I so contracted all the avenues of the
aforesaid citadel, that the _Yorkshire_ knight that marry’d her,
spent above a hundred small-shot against the walls, and bombarded
the fortress a full fortnight before he cou’d enter it; and now
they are the happiest couple within the bills of mortality.
I renewed the youth from the girdle downwards of madam _de
Maintenon_, so that she afforded all the delights imaginable, to
her old grand lover in imagination, and to the younger bigots and
herself in reality: while her face still remain’d as great an
object of mortification as her beads, death’s-head, and discipline;
and this noble cure still remains to be view’d by all the world.
_Harry Higden_ of the _Temple_, counsellor, was so miserably
troubled with the long vacation disease, or the _defectus crumenæ_,
that the sage benchers of the house threatned to padlock his
chamber door for non-payment of rent. He asked my advice in this
exigence: I, who knew the full strength of his furniture, which
consisted of a rug, two blankets, a joint-stool, and a
tin-candlestick, that served him for a piss-pot when revers’d,
counselled him to take his door off the hinges, and lock it up in
his study. He followed my advice, and by that means escaped the
abovemention’d ostracism of the padlock.
_Margaret Cheatly_, bawd, match-maker, and mid-wife of
_Bloomsbury_, by immoderate drinking of strong-waters, had got a
nose so termagantly rubicund, that she out-blazed the comet: my
cosmetic _Florentine-unguent_, absolutely reform’d this
inflammation, and now she looks as soberly as a dissenting
minister’s goggle-ey’d convenience.
_Jerry Scandal_, whale and ghost printer in _White-Friers_, had
plagued the town above ten years with apparitions, murders,
catechisms, and the like stuff; by showing him the phiz of terrible
_Robin_ in my green magic-glass, I so effectually frighted him,
that he has since demolish’d all his letters, dismissed his
hawkers, flung up his business, and instead of news, cries
flounders and red-herrings about the streets.
_Joachim Hazard_, of _Cripplegate_ parish in _White-cross-street_,
almost at the farther end near _Old-street_, turning in at the sign
of the _White Crow_ in _Goat-alley_, strait forward, down
three-steps at the sign of the _Globe_, was so be-devil’d with the
spirit of lying, that he out-did two hard mouth’d evidences in
their own profession, and could not open his mouth without
romancing; I made him snuff up some half a score drops of my
_Elixir Alethinum_, and now he has left off fortune-telling and
astrology, and is return’d to his primitive trade of weaving.
_Farmer Frizzle-pate_, of _Bullington_, near _Andover_, had been
blind thirty five years and upwards; my _Ophthalmick_ drops
restor’d him to his sight in a minute, and now he can read a
_Geneva_ bible without spectacles. A certificate of this miraculous
cure, I have under the hand of the parson of the parish, and his
amen-curler.
I cured a _Kentish_ parson of an _Infirmitas Memoriæ_, which he got
by a jumble of his _Glandula Pinealis_, after a bowl of punch and a
boxing-bout. He was reduc’d to that deplorable condition, as to
turn over play-books instead of his concordance, quote _Quæ Genus_
instead of St. _Austin_; nay, he forgot tythe-eggs, demanded
_Easter_ dues at _Martinmas_, bid _Bartholomew-Fair_ instead of
_Ash-Wednesday_; and frequently mistook the service of matrimony,
for that of the dead: what is yet more surprising, he forgot even
to drink over his left thumb; but now he has as staunch a memory,
as a pawn-broker for the day of the month; a country attorney for
mischief; or a popish clergyman for revenge.
I cured serjeant _Dolthead_, of a prodigious itch in the palms of
his hands: A most wonderful cure! for now he refuses fees, as
heartily as a young wench does an ugly fellow, when she has a
handsome one in view; his attorney is run mad, his wife is turn’d
bawd to take double fees; and his daughters mantua-makers and
whores, to get by two trades.
An eminent coach-keeping physician was troubled with a _Farrago
Medicinarum_, or a _Tumor Prescriptionalis_ to that monstrous
degree, that he writ bills by the ell, and prescribed medicines by
the hogshead and wheelbarrow-full. To the amazement of all that
knew him: I have effectually cured him on’t; for he now writes but
three words, prescribes but two scruples, leaves people to a
wholesome kitchen-diet, and nature has undone the sexton and
funeral undertaker; and the overstock’d parish has petitioned the
privy-council to send out a new coloney to the _West-Indies_.
I cured a certain head of a college, of a _Hebetude Cerebri_; so
that he now jokes with the bachelors and junior fry, goes to the
dancing-school with the fellow-commoners; and next act will be able
to make a whole _terræ filius_’s speech himself.
An apothecary in _Cheapside_, was so strangely over-run with an
_Inundatio Veneni_, that the grass grew in the parish round him;
but now, thanks to the cure I wrought upon him, he has reduc’d his
shop to the compass of a raree-show, gets but ten pence in the
shilling, let the neighbouring infants grow up to men; and is going
to build an hospital for decay’d prize-fighters and dragoons.
I cured a vintner behind the _Exchange_, of a _Mixtura Diabolica_,
so that now he hates apples as much as our forefather after his
kick on the arse out of paradice; shuns a drugster’s shop, as much
as a broken cit does a serjeant; swears he’ll clear but ten
thousand pounds in five years, and then set up for psalm-singing,
and sleeping under the pulpit.
I cured a _Norfolk_ attorney of the _Scabies Causidico Rabularies_,
another prodigious cure never perform’d before; so that now he’s as
quiet as a cramb’d capon among barn door hens, he won’t so much as
scratch for his food; his uncle the counseller has disinherited
him; and since he has listed himself for a foot soldier.
I cured an _Amsterdam_ burgomaster’s wife of barrenness, so that
now she has two children at a birth; besides a brace of sooterkins
every year, and even now in these low-countries (so effectual are
my remedies) I am teaz’d with daily messages, for astringents and
flood gates, to help the poor pains-taking mortal in his aquatic
situation.
_Pierre Babillard_, _French_ valet and pimp in ordinary to my lord
_Demure_, was troubled with the _Glosso-mania_, or that epidemical
disease of _Normandy_, the talking sickness. He not only prattled
all night in his sleep, but his clack went incessantly all day
long; the cook-maid and nurse were talk’d quite deaf by him;
whereas his master labour’d under the contrary extreme, and by his
good will wou’d not strike once in twenty four hours; by the most
stupendous operation that ever was known, (for the transfusion of
one animal’s blood into another, so much boasted of by the royal
society, is not to be compared to it) I transfused some of the
_French_ valet’s loquacity into the noble peer, and some of the
noble peer’s taciturnity into the _French_ valet; so that now, to
the great consolation of the family, my lord sometimes talks, and
Monsieur _Babillard_ sometimes holds his tongue.
Sir _Blunder Dullman_, professor of rhetorick, and orator to the
ancient city of _Augusta Trinobantum_, had been troubled, ever from
his infancy with that epidemical magistrate’s distemper, the _Bos_
in _Lingua_; so that whenever he made any speeches, the gentlemen
were ready to split their sides, and the ladies to bepiss
themselves with laughing at the singularities of his discourse. By
my _Pulvis Cephalicus_, I so far recover’d him, that he cou’d draw
up his tropes and metaphors in good order, and harangue you twenty
lines upon the stretch, without making above the same number of
blunders. If he has since relapsed, ’tis no fault of mine, but he
may e’en thank his city conversation for it.
_Dinah Fribble_, eldest daughter to _Jonathan Fribble_ of
_Thames-street_, tallow-chandler, was so enormously given to the
language of old _Babylon_, that she would talk bawdy before her
mother, her grandmother, and godmother; nay, name the two beastly
monosyllables before the doctor and lecturer of the parish. Her
father, one of the worshipful elders of _Salters-hall_, wondered
how a child so religiously educated, fed from her cradle with the
crumbs of comfort, and lull’d daily asleep with _Hopkins_ and
_Sternhold_, should labour under so obscene a dispensation. In
short, I was sent for, pour’d some twenty drops of my
_Anti-Asmodean_ essence into her nostrils, and the next morning a
huge thundering _Priapus_ eleven inches long, came out of her left
ear; she’s now perfectly recover’d, talks as piously, and behaves
herself as gravely as the demurest female in the neighbourhood.
_Daniel Guzzle_, Inn-keeper in _Southwark_, by perpetual tippling
with his customers, was so inordinately swell’d with a dropsy, that
Sir _John Falstaff_, in _Harry_ the fourth, was a meer skeleton to
him. I tapp’d his _Heidelburg-Abdomen_, and so vast an inundation
issued from him, that if the stream had continued a quarter of an
hour longer, it would have overflowed the whole borough, and made a
second cataclysm. He is now perfectly cured, is as slender as a
beau that has been twice salivated for a shape; runs up the
monument some half a score times every morning for his diversion,
jumps thro’ a hoop, makes nothing of leaping over a five-barr’d
gate; and the famous Mr. _Barnes_ of _Rotherhith_ has enter’d him
into his company.
_Obadiah Hemming_, Taylor, at the sign of the _Red-Wastcoat_ and
_Blazing-Star_, near _Tower-Hill_, was troubled with so unmerciful
a _Ptisick_, that no body in the family could sleep for him: I
ply’d him with my _Antitussient Pillula Pulmonaris_, but without
effect. I wondered how the devil my never-failing remedy
disappointed me! cries I to him, honest friend, what may your name
be? _Obadiah Hemming_, says he. Very well; and what parish do you
live in; _All-hallows-Barking_. Oh, ho! I have now found out the
secret how my pills came to miscarry; why, friend, thou hast a
damn’d ptisical name, and livest in a confounded ptisical parish:
come call thyself _Obadiah Bowman_, and get thee to _Hampstead_,
_Highgate_, or any place but _All-hallows-Barking_, and I’ll insure
thy recovery. He did so; and is so strangely improv’d upon it, that
he is since chosen into St. _Paul_’s choir, and begins to rival Mr.
_Goslin_ and Mr. _Elford_.
_Rebbecca Twist_, Ribbon-Weaver, in _Drum-Alley, Spittle Fields_,
aged 75, by drinking anniseed-robin, geneva, and other ungodly
liquors, and smoaking mundungus, had so utterly decayed her natural
heat, that she had lain bed-rid thirty years, and on my conscience
a calenture would no more have warm’d her, than a farthing candle
would roast a sirloin of beef. I made so entire a renovation of her
with my _Arcanum Helmontio-Glaubero-Paracelsianum_, that she’s
become another creature, out-talks the parson and midwife at every
gossiping, dances to a miracle, never fails to give her attendance
at all merry meetings; and no sooner hears the noise of a fiddle,
but she frisks and capers it about, like a young hoyden of fifteen.
_Nehemiah Conniver_, one of the city reformers, was so totally
deform’d with the _Lepra Hypocritica_, that never a barber,
victualler, or taylor in the neighbourhood could live in quiet for
him. To the admiration of all that knew him, I have so effectually
cured him of this acid humour, that he will out-swear ten dragoons,
go to a bawdy-house in the face of the sun; and out talk a score
of midwives in natural philosophy.
Thus, gentlemen, you have my bill, and catalogue of cures, by which
you’ll easily perceive that our internal world is only a
counter-part of your’s, where hard words, impudence, and nonsense,
delivered with a magisterial air, carry every thing before them. I
should now according to the method proposed to myself, proceed to
give you a short account of what memorable occurrences have lately
happened in these _Acherontic_ realms, but the vast crowds of
visitants at my door are so obstreporous and troublesome, that I
can conceal myself from them no longer. Be pleas’d, therefore, to
accept of this imperfect relation in part of payment, and next
month, when I shall have a better convenience of writing my
thoughts at large, I will endeavour to give you full satisfaction.
In the mean time, give me leave to assure you, that my highest
ambition is to honour myself with the title of,
_Gentlemen,
Your most obedient and
most humble Servant_,
GIUSIPPE HANESIO.
_Sir_ FLEETWOOD SHEPHERD _to Mr._ PRIOR.
It is some time since (you know) that I took my leave of you, and the
sun, and I fear’d of all good company too. My curiosity to observe the
nature of an affair, whereof every body talks, tho’ not one of them can
understand, made me so long silent; that if it were possible I might
give my friends some account or other that should be of moment to them,
either for diversion or improvement. Your weighty affairs prevent the
one, and your capacity the other; but that you may see friendship as
well as virtue survives the grave, I address this to you, to assure you,
we are not annihilated, as some philosophers opened, and that our
felicity does not consist in an unactive indolence as others as vainly
pretended. Virtue is its own reward, and vice its own punishment. We
are so refined here, that nothing can veil evil from the piercing eyes
of every body, and the malice and envy of the most inveterate devils
cannot over-cast the glories of the good. We impute a great many faults
to the frailty of the flesh very unjustly. The soul hath its warpings as
well as the clay, and some vices are so natural that we cannot
extinguish them, tho’ we may in some measure prevent their flaming out
and boiling over. These remain still, and employ all the utmost efforts
of our prudence to triumph over; and if we accomplish that, we are
perfect; but if the malignity of our tempers prevail, we sink to the
lowest abyss of infamy, shame, and disgrace. This laid the foundation of
that doctrine of _Rome_, called Purgatory; and their ignorance, joined
to their insatiable avarice, improved it to what at present you find it.
Here is one duke of _Buckingham_, perpetually conferring with the
_Spanish_ ministers; the other as busy in finding out the mighty secrets
of impertinent curiosities; here’s _Mazarine_ supplanting the liberty of
_Europe_, and _Cromwell_ that of _England_. _Shaftsbury_ is pushing on
_Monmouth_, and he is stiled king by one of his own footmen only;
_Dryden_ is every minute at _Homer_’s heels, or pulling _Virgil_ by the
sleeve, importuning _Horace_, or making friends to _Ovid_: but _Cowley_,
with a serenity of mind that constitutes his felicity, quietly passes
along the _Elysian_ plains, disturbing no body, and undisturb’d of all,
_Milton_ his companion, and himself his happiness. The less considerable
fry of wits are just as contentious here, as at _Covent Garden_; as
noisy, and as ill-natur’d; every man in particular arrogating all to
himself, and allowing nothing to others. The dispute rose so high, and
the uproar continued so long, that _Pluto_ commanded a squadron of his
life-guard, with _Juvenal_ at their head, to force them out of the
laurel-grove, and lock it up till matters should be adjusted by
_Apollo_, to whom he detach’d _Lucan_ and _Lee_ (as being the best
skill’d in flying) with his complaints; they are returned with a
proclamation, which for its novelty I will trouble you with; not but
that I think it might not improperly have been made on the other side of
_Parnassus_, unless matters are strangely mended since I left you.
We _Apollo_, by the Grace of _Jupiter_, Emperor of _Parnassus_,
King of Poetry, Sovereign Prince of Letters,
Duke of the _Muses_, Marquis of Light, and Earl of the
Four Seasons, _&c._ to all our Trusty and well Beloved
Explorers of Nature, and Cherishers of Learning,
Greeting.
_Whereas we are inform’d to our ineffable displeasure, grief,
sorrow and concern, that many fewds, jars, quarrels, animosities,
and heart-burns are ever and anon kindled, stirr’d up, and fomented
among the elder brothers of_ Helicon, _as well as the multitude of
vain pretenders to bayes and immortality, in so much, that your
bickerings, clamours, noise and disturbances, are of intolerable
inconveniency to the good and just; and an unhappy suspension of
the serenity of their minds, as well as so many perturbations and
infractions of the peace of our uncle king_ Pluto’_s dominions:
wherefore it is our royal will and pleasure, that these notorious
misdemeanours be forthwith remedied; promising upon our royal word,
that justice shall be duly executed to every body; and all men of
real merit and worth, lovers of wisdom and learning, of what nation
or sort soever, shall in their respective classes of virtue and
excellence, be registred in the glorious volumes of fame, to be
kept eternally in the_ Delphic _library: In pursuance whereof, we
do hereby earnestly require and injoin our beloved sisters the
Muses, to hold a court of claims in the principality of_ Delos,
_where we shall give our royal attendance so often as the fatigues
of our laborious course will permit us, to examine all capacities,
claims, titles, and pretensions whatever: and to avoid all lets,
troubles, hinderances, molestations, and interruptions that
possibly we can: we do farthermore hereby strictly prohibit and
forbid, upon pain of our highest displeasure, and a hundred years
interdiction from the laurel-grove, all sonneteers, songsters,
satyrists, panegyrists, madrigallers, and such like impediments of_
Parnassus, _to make any pretensions whatever to reputation and
immortality; till such time as the more laborious and industrious
investigators of nature are regulated and dispatch’d_.
Given at our High Court of _Helicon_, this 47th Century,
from our Conquest of _Python_.
At present the versifyers are much humbled, for the laurel-grove is
their chiefest delight; ’tis their park, their playhouse, their
assembly. I find all the vices of the mind are common here, as in
your superiour regions: separating from the clay has only taken
from us the means of whoring and drinking, but the mind retains
still the wicked propensity. I considered not the pressing number
of your affairs, and that I hazard your ill-will by detaining you
so long from the publick: give me leave only to desire the favour
of you, when your servant goes through _Chancery-lane_, to put up a
cargo of the _spread-eagle_ pudding for our very good friend
counsellor _Wallop_, for he is inconsolable: twenty of the best
cooks, nay, Mr. _Lamb_ himself can’t make one to please him. Live
in health, I know you cannot learn.
_Mr._ PRIOR_’s Answer_.
_Worthy Sir_,
I was not wanting in my wishes to preserve that esteem you honoured
me with, or to give you fresher instances of it; but since your
stars summoned you on the other side of the black water, and I did
not know whither to address myself exactly to you, I was obliged to
suspend my writing till such time as I received your’s. I am
heartily glad the two crowns are agreed to permit a pacquet to go
between them; and as for our friend the counsellor, I never shall
be dilatory in serving him to the utmost of my abilities, and never
shall call to mind but with veneration and wonder, his most heroick
conduct and magnanimity in pudding-fighting. He sequester’d himself
from flesh and blood very opportunely, and with a prudence that
always accompanied him in the minutest of his actions; for sugars
and fruits are risen already, and, in all probability, will
continue to bear a good price, since _Portugal_ has deserted us; so
I dare not pretend to be positive that the cargo I send will be as
delicious as formerly, tho’ its novelty may make amends for some
time, for small cheats in that profession. Honest _John_ the
faithful companion of your wanton hours, was very much rejoiced to
hear from you, and would needs take a leap after you, maugre all I
could say to him: with this trusty servant I have sent you what you
desired, and that I might be certain of its not miscarrying any
where upon the road, I tuck’d friend _John_ up with it, and so
dispatch’d him presently. I was in hopes to have heard from more of
our merry companions, or of them at least: how does _Rochester_
behave himself with his old gang? is Sir _George_ as facetious as
ever? is my lady still that formal creature as when in our
hemisphere? has she the benefit of cards and a tea-table? how did
my lord _Jefferies_ receive his son? and with what constancy did
her grace hear Sir _John Germain_ was married? I was in hopes you
might have met with some of these in your peregrination, not that I
suppose you can see those vast dominions of _Pluto_’s but in a
proportionable time to the variety of subjects, as well as the
mightiness of their extent.
We have nothing new here, because we are under the sun. Wise men
keep company with one another; fools write and fools read; the
booksellers have the advantage, provided they don’t trust; some
pragmatical fellows set up for politicians; others think they have
merit because they have money. Cheats prosper, drunkenness is a
little rebuked in the pulpit, but as rife as ever in all other
places; people marry that don’t love one the other, and your old
mistress _Melisinda_ goes to church constantly, prays devoutly,
sings psalms gravely, hears sermons attentively, receives the
sacrament monthly, lies with her footman nightly, and rails against
lewdness and hypocrisy from morning till night.
The rest of particulars I leave for honest _John_ to recount to
you; my other affairs oblige me to take my leave of you; expecting
some particulars about what I mentioned myself.
_Yours_, &c.
POMIGNY _of_ Auvergne, _to Mr._ ABEL _of_ London, _Singing-Master_.
_SIR_,
The sons and daughters of harmony that crowd in daily upon these coasts
surprise us equally with your capacities and misfortunes. We are
generally of the opinion here, that the muses are as well receiv’d in
_England_, as in any other climate whatever. Men are charm’d there at so
small an expence of wit or performance, that, one of your endowments
might well have hop’d to outrival my felicity, and be something more
exalted than to the embraces of a queen. My parentage was as little
remarkable in _France_, as yours in _England_; and though I had better
luck, durst not pretend I had a better voice. From a singing-boy, I
push’d my fortune so as to succeed my own sovereign. From the choir I
rose to the chamber; from the chamber I was preferr’d to the closet; and
from thence was advanc’d to be vice-roy over all the territories of
love: I was lord high-chamberlain to _Cupid_, and comptroller of the
houshold to _Venus_. Every delectation superseded my very wishes; nor
cou’d I have ask’d for the thousandth part of the blandishments I
enjoy’d. I was as absolute in my love as the grand seignior: ’twas for
my dear sake the fond princess rais’d her maids of honour’s beds, that
she might not hurt her back (as she had frequently done) in creeping
under to fetch me out. ’Twas for my dear sake, that if they but nam’d my
name when absent, in the raptures of her impatience, she run against the
doors, threw down the screens; hurt her face against the mantle-trees
and cabinets. She broke at times as much in looking-glasses, stands, and
china, in the eager transports of her joy to meet me coming into the
room, as by computation, wou’d have fitted out a fleet of fifty sail of
capital ships. These were princely rewards for a man’s poor endeavours
to please: who would not bring up their children in a choir? or who
would not learn to sing? you have met, I must confess, Sir, with but
small encouragement in the main, and made but a slender fortune in
comparison of what might have been reasonably expected from your
talents: the most civiliz’d quarter of the world has been your audience,
and admirer; and you have left every where a name, that cannot die but
with musick, and that will survive even nature; for in the numerous
cracklings of the last conflagration, there will be, as it were, a noble
symphony, that she may cease to be in proportion, and what is her
apothesis, will draw the curtain to a new creation. But that enlargement
of our knowledge, which is the necessity of our spiritualization, shows
me there is a malevolency in the influences of your stars, that will
ever dash your rising hopes, and oppose your fortune. You cannot but
have heard how _Alexander the Great_ very generously distributed all the
spoils to his soldiers, and contented himself with glory for his
dividend. Thus your consolation must be, whenever the fickle goddess
frowns upon you; that noble resolution of being above contempt, shows a
magnanimity of mind equal to the greatest philosopher. But virtue is
very often unfortunate, nay, sometimes oppress’d.
Here are some devilish, ignorant, censorious, lying people, that will
maintain, you were so impertinent as to give a gentleman, the trouble of
cudgelling you, and there are many here whose wicked tempers are
improv’d by the conversation of the place, as rogues by being in
_Newgate_, and those give credit to the aspersions; but the tribe of
_Helicon_ endeavour your justification, for he that cou’d charm the king
of _Poland_’s bears with the warbling accents of his mellifluous tongue,
might with the same harmony have mov’d the sturdy oak, and that is as
heavy as a hundred canes. ’Twas the glory of _Arion_, that the stones
danced after his lyre; and as long as there are poets it will be said,
that _Orpheus_ drew the tigers and the trees, to listen to his trembling
lays. May you not justly expect a place in the volumes of immortality,
since it may be all said literally true of you, that was but a fable of
these darlings of our forefathers? no matter if some people put an ill
construction on it, the best actions of our lives are subject to be
traduc’d.---- Here was a dear joy of quality suffer’d the discipline of
the place for stealing the diamond ring from you, that the king of
_France_ gave you at _Fountainbleau_: to mitigate the blackness of the
fact, he alledg’d the necessitousness of his condition, and that it was
pity so many gallant men should want for their loyalty, while a
jackanapes cou’d get an estate for a song. At this, _Rhadamanthus_
order’d him a hundred stripes more for his pride in affecting a
character his own confession had so far derogated from. There are some
considerable stars that rise in _Bavaria_, whose influences are
inauspicious to you; for, among friends, ’twas no better than robbing
him to run away with his money, and especially before you had done any
thing for it. However, this may be your consolation, that the duke can’t
say you cheated him to some tune. Here is a consort of musick composing
against the king of _France_ makes his entrance: out of gratitude to his
generosity, you ought to make one of ’em; I can get you a lodging near
_Cerberus_’s apartment; ’twill be convenient for you to confer notes
together for he is much the deepest base of any here.
If your leisure will permit, I should be glad of some news from the
favourites of _Parnassus_: I am continually at the chocolate house in
the _Sulphurstreet_. I shall look upon the obligation in _Ala-mi-re_ in
_Alt_.
_Mr._ ABEL’_s Answer_.
_SIR_,
If the advice be seasonable, ’tis no great matter from whence it comes;
though ’tis not what one wou’d readily expect from a person of your
climate; but that too renders the obligation so much the more binding. I
was not so well acquainted with the ancient intrigues of the _French_
court as to call your name to remembrance, but by the delicious
expression of your wanton delights, I presum’d you might have been a
_Mahometan_ eunuch, because you seem’d to describe their paradice in
part; what cou’d I tell whether more of that felicity came to your share
or not? I met _Aben-Ezra_ the _Jew_, but he knew nothing of you; at last
a _French_ refugee set me right. When I consider your private history I
am amaz’d at your raptures, and that you could be so void of common
reason, more especially after you had been so long spiritualiz’d, which
you tell me, enlarges the understanding, as to set a value upon your
self for raking a kennel, only because it belonged to court. To have
charm’d a person of an exalted extraction, as I did, and to bring her to
be the loving wife of my bosom, was vanity without infamy. But your
captive queen was a queen of sluts, equally the infamy of her own sex,
as you were the contempt of ours. ’Twas very pathetically said of her by
her brother, when he gave her in marriage to the king of _Navarre, that
he did not give his_ Peggy _in marriage to the king of_ Navarre _alone,
but to all the_ Hugonots _of his kingdom_, and if he had said, all the
_Roman Catholicks_ too, it had hardly been an hyperbole. For ever since
she was nine years old, she never deny’d any thing that was a man; no,
not so much as her own brother. She had so great an inclination to be
obliging, that she would not refuse even old age, and did not condemn
even the blackest scullion-boy of her kitchin: she was the refuse of a
hundred thousand several men’s embraces before she took up with you. So
that I see no such mighty ground for your vanity and ostentation: and if
there were not other more beneficial expectations from the choir, I
should advise but very few to follow it: not but that a fair friend in
the _Palace-yard_, a kind friend in _Charles-street_, or a pretty
intimate acquaintance near the _Bowling-Alley_, may help to pass away
some leisure hours when the _Abbey_ is lock’d up; however that is not
sufficient to tempt a man to _C-fa-ut_ it all ones life-time.
I ever found an inbred aversion to _Ireland_, and your news gives me
more convincing reasons why I should not affect ’em: for to be stripp’d
by some, and stripp’d by others, would of itself give a man an
unfavourable Impression of such people. As for the freedom you take in
diverting yourself at my expence, I easily pass it by: but your
censoriousness scandalizes me, when so many very deserving persons of
all ranks, sexes and qualities, as are my good friends and benefactors,
are made the subject of your raillery. I do not want to be spiritualis’d
to see thro’ your banter, when you make me even superior to _Orpheus_
and _Arion_; I smell what you wou’d be at, by being follow’d by tigers,
blocks and stones: but it is lucky enough for you, that you are out of
their reach: as for the article of _Bavaria_, I can say but little to it
more than I thought the time was come, when the _Israelites_ should
spoil the _Egyptians_. You have such continual couriers from these
parts, that you cannot be long ignorant of the minutest springs by which
all affairs are kept in motion. To me they seem everywhere to be at much
the same rate, like a horse in a mill, ’tis no matter who drives him. I
thank you for your kind offer, in providing me lodgings; but I have so
many of my friends gone there of late, that I shall unwillingly be from
them: however, I shall always study to improve your good opinion, and
continue theirs. If any accident calls me to your parts about that time,
I shall gladly assist at the king of _France_’s entry; for doubtless it
will be done with a most noble solemnity, and every way answerable to
the character of such a monarch. But as time is more precious here than
in your country, I must beg you to excuse me, for I am just sent for to
the tavern. _Adieu._
_Seignior_ NICHOLA _to Mr._ BUCKLY, _at the_ Swan _Coffee-House near_
Bloomsbury.
It is impossible to suffer it any longer! what, my diviner airs made the
sordid entertainment of sordid footmen, scoundrel fellows, and I know
not what for ragamuffins! must those seraphic lays, that have so often
been the delight of muses, the joy of princes, the rapture of the fair
sex, the treasures of the judicious, must these be thrumm’d over to
blaspheming rascals, smoaking sots, noisy boobies, and such nefarious
mechanicks! oh, prophane!---- they shall have my sonatas, that they
shall with a horse-pox to them. Can’t their _Darby_ go down but with a
tune, nor their tobacco smoak, without the harmony of a _Cremona_
fiddle? if they can’t be merry without musick, provide them a good key,
and a pair of wrought tongs. One of their own jigs is diverting enough
for their heavy capacities; whence comes it that the sons of art, and
the brothers of rosin and cat-gut, can demean themselves so poorly to
play before them? since when have the daughters of _Helicon_ frequented
ale-houses? must the sacred streams of our _Aganiope_, pay homage to the
_Darwent_, and wash tankards and glasses? sure you think _Pegasus_ a
jade, and are looking out for a chap for him: who can come up to his
price there? his beauties are too sublime for the groom, and his master
had rather have a strong horse for his coach: none of them alas can tilt
the fiery courser. What a strange medley do you make! wit, musick,
noise, nonsense, smoak, spawl, _Darby_-ale, and brandy: nay your rage
and indiscretion goes farther yet; folly and madness seem to be
contagious, and you jar among yourselves? the brothers of symphony
quarrel, and turn the banquetting-house of the _Thessalian_ ladies into
a bear-garden, those active joints that so nicely touch’d my notes, are
now barbarously levell’d at each other’s eyes; the powerful off-spring
of my harmonious conceptions, is miserably torn to pieces betwixt them;
and what would have charm’d all mankind, is dishonourably employ’d to
the lighting of pipes and cleaning of tables. If you will set up for
celebrating the orgies of the juicy god, let your instruments be all
chosen accordingly, your airs correspondent to the audience; but make me
no more the contempt and derision of your debauch’d meetings: for the
commendation of fools is more wounding than the reprimands of the
ingenious. At best, it is prostituting me to bring them into my company.
If you put not some sudden order to these ignominious proceedings, I
will dispatch an imp to sowre your ale, consume your cordials, spill
your tobacco, break your glasses, and cut all your equipage of harmony
into ten thousand millions of bits; nay I will prosecute my revenge so
far, that even in the play-house your hand shall shake, your ear shall
judge wrong, your strings crack, and every disappointment that may
render you ridiculous, shall attend you in all publick meetings
where-ever you pretend to play. So be wise and be warn’d: play to lovers
and judges of musick, draw drink to sots and neighbours.
IGNATIUS LOYOLA _to the Archbishop of_ Toledo.
Your eminency’s remissness in the late affairs of the _Spanish_
territories, has made my scorpion’s stink deeper than heretofore, and
superadded a new blackness to the horrors of my rage and despair. Those
painful machinations, who took their birth from hell itself, and by my
industry and application had so glorious a prospect of bridling all
mankind, wherever the _Romish_ doctrine triumph’d at least, are now by
that long continued series of an unhappy supineness in your
predecessors, or the powerful influences of _French_ gold, reduc’d to
almost nothing. The thunderbolts of the inquisition rattled more
dreadfully than those of the _Vatican_; and after emperors had subjected
themselves to the successors of St. _Peter_, we found out means to
subject him to our censures, and by this made our selves superior to
supreme. The mildness of your executions, and the rarity of ’em have
substracted wonderfully from their reputation, and from my designs.
Your excellency can’t say but I lay down very sufficient groundworks for
the rendering my orders as lasting as religion, if not as lasting as
time. More than _Europe_ has felt the efficacy of my instructions; and
where-ever my disciples have been sent they have brought us home souls
and bodies, credit and estates.
What society can vie with us for extent of temporal concerns? what
provinces are not in a great measure ours? we have the guardianship of
the consciences of most of the considerable crown’d heads, and few
affairs of importance are transacted any where but with our privity. I
have not met with any one person in these kingdoms that has been of note
and quality, that came here with a pass-port from the holy inquisition;
now and then a rascally _Jew_ or so, comes here blaspheming your power
and prudence; and is so angry that he will not show it at hell-gates; as
if he apprehended a double damnation from our character.
Your excellency can’t but be sensible how great sufferers we have been
by the substracting of the _Gallican_ church from the lash of our
authority; and it was no small amputation we suffered in the _Spanish
Netherlands_, by the improvident proceeding of that rash commander the
duke of _Alva_: If now you submit thus quietly to the administration of
_France_, I cannot but apprehend an universal extention of that powerful
and profitable institution. Next to my own society, I look upon it to be
the basis of the _Romish_ monarchy, and undoubtedly of your own, and of
the _Austrian_ greatness. How are your liberties trampled upon by a
child, and all your dons led captives to _Versailles_? Where is the
antient valour and obstinacy of the _Moorish_ blood? Where are the
poisons and the poniards so frequent in _Madrid_? Is _Spain_ brought so
low that she has not resolution enough for one feeble effort, to save
herself from infamy and ruin? Your arms were always unsuccessful against
the _English_ nation; the greatness of your misery points out still the
memorable, the very deplorable overthrow in eighty eight: There is a
queen again upon that crown, willing and able to protect you as well as
others, and it may be in rubricks of fate, that as one queen brought
down the pride of the haughty _Spaniards_, so the other shall humble
_France_ as much, even when it is in its most tow’ring glory. But
whatever be the destiny of _France_, you ought to look after yourselves,
and not by an untimely accession of your powers to that of so formidable
a monarch, intangle yourselves in an inextricable ruin, by so much the
more unpardonable as you might easily have prevented it. Shew the world
then that a _French_ lion can’t thrive in a _Spanish_ soil, and dart
forth the lightning of the inquisition against all that adhere to the
_Gallic_ interest and connive at the ruin of the _Spanish_ grandeur.
Exert yourself and swim hither in a sea of blood, and may your cruelties
succeed.
_Alderman_ FLOYER _to Sir_ HUMPHERY EDWIN.
I ever had an infinite value for your friendship, and as every letter is
a fresh mark of it, I have in every one new matter of satisfaction; yet
I could not read your last without equal surprize and concern; and if I
did not positively believe your integrity, as I am acquainted with your
capacity, I should be at a loss what construction to put upon it: for
all _Europe_ has been deaf for I know not how many years, with more and
more accounts how your kings grew upon their people, and we ever look’d
upon the _English_ as very jealous of their privileges. I need not tell
you how odious your two last kings were to us of these parts; nay, and
all _Germany_ too, papist and protestant; for instead of holding the
balance between _France_, _Spain_ and the _Empire_, as the situation of
your country, and its mighty power by sea made ’em capable of doing, and
the character of guarantees for the peace of _Nimeguen_, and the truce
for twenty years oblig’d ’em to it; their siding with _France_,
notwithstanding all the endeavours of foreign ministers to the contrary,
and their own real interest too, may be justly said to have laid the
foundation of all those calamities that the arms and intrigues of
_France_, have since that time brought upon _Europe_. But tho’ we had so
many reasons to be dissatisfied with the proceedings of king _Charles_
II. and king _James_ too, yet we never diminish’d any thing of our good
will we bore the _English_ nation; because we cou’d not but believe they
were as far from approving those transactions as we were, and repin’d
as much as we did at the growing grandeur of the _French_ monarch. The
clandestine measures both those kings took to enslave their subjects to
the power of _France_, and the _Romish_ religion, was as good a
demonstration of a natural enmity between those two sorts of people. His
present majesty’s descent was concerted with most of the princes of the
empire after it was so earnestly propos’d to him, and almost press’d
upon him by the very best of your nation. The friendship between the two
crowns was no longer a secret, tho’ the _English_ envoy at the _Hague_
deny’d it positively when I was there: This was more than an umbrage to
the discerning part of your kingdom, and what the very commonality could
not think on without terrible apprehensions: and all of us here in like
manner look’d upon this enterprize as a thing on which depended the
safety or ruin of the whole protestant affairs of _Europe_.
I cannot comprehend what unlucky planet rules over you! that any one
person should be dissatisfy’d, is prodigious to me. You are freed from
all those oppressions, whose probability alone having made no small part
of your misery. You were very uneasy under the administration of king
_James_, and now you are deliver’d, you murmur! you know his royal
highness was so unwilling to embark himself in this affair, tho’ his
interest and his honour were very much concern’d at it, that he did not
yield but to the iterated solicitations of your countrymen, join’d with
full assurance that they would stand by him with their lives and
fortunes. You must pardon the freedom of my expression, if I assure you,
that this ungrateful false step lessens my value for the _English_
nation: for after having made such terrible complaints of their miseries
and injuries, and fill’d _Europe_ with their tears and lamentations,
implor’d a neighbouring prince to come to their rescue, at a season of
the year that wou’d have quell’d the greatest courage that ever was, if
it had not been supported with charity; and add to this, the unavoidable
necessity of so vast an expence, as would have sunk some princes
fortunes, now they are happily settled in their affairs at home, have
glorious armies abroad, and that king at their head, who has so justly
merited that title of _Defender of the Faith_, whose prudence and
vigilancy has corroborated their native force with so many powerful
allies; that these people should be so little sensible of their own
felicity, as to murmur and be discontented, is to me a paradox, but I am
sure unpardonable. The knowledge I have of the _English_ genius, makes
me believe there are but a few malecontents, and tho’ they call
themselves protestants, ’tis only to bring an odium upon those that
really are, by such perverse measures. I hope ’tis only your fears for
your country, which proceed from your love of it, that multiplies these
disagreeable objects. You have a protestant prince, on a protestant
throne, liberty of conscience, and even the _Roman Catholicks_, that
were always plotting against the government, are permitted so much
freedom under it, that they would be mad if they were out of it.
Look back to the desolations in _France_, and to the storm you are
deliver’d from, and see if you can ever thank God enough for your
deliverance.
_Sir_ JOHN NORRIS _Commander in Chief of Her Majesty Queen_
ELIZABETH’_s Land-Forces against the_ Spaniard, _to Sir_ HENRY
BELLASIS _and Sir_ CHARLES HARA.
_Gentlemen_,
We had no sooner intelligence of your designs, but we gave the
_Spaniards_ over for lost: the path has been so gallantly beaten to your
hands, and your enemies hardly recruited their former losses in our
glorious times, if they cou’d have forgot from whose hands they
sustain’d ’em. If I may remind you without vanity, as I do it without a
lie, I took the lower town of the _Groyn_, I plunder’d all the villages
round about it, and by the gallantry of the _English_ cut the
_Spaniards_ to pieces for three miles together. But these were profess’d
enemies that had attempted upon our state, and by their formidable
preparations, threatned no less than our entire ruin. However, in all
the licentiousness of a conquering sword, we ravish’d no nuns; and it
had been justifiable if we had done it. We took the city of _St.
Joseph_, and tho’ there was not found one single piece of coin’d money
in it (which is a very exasperating disappointment to soldiers you know)
yet we forc’d no nunneries. Had you two, gentlemen, been there, I
presume you wou’d have eaten the children alive for mere madness and
vexation, after you had gratify’d your more unpardonable brutish lusts
upon the monasteries. Distressed damsels were heretofore the general
cause for which the heroes drew their swords: as their sex made them the
objects of our desires, so when their weakness was forc’d upon, they
became doubly the subjects of our quarrels, and by so just a claim, that
nothing but the very reproach of mankind refus’d it ’em. Your case, as I
take it (gentlemen) is far different from that, where positive orders
give licence; nay, an insurrection itself, and to lay all waste before
you; to ransack the churches, and ravish the women, to burn the houses,
and brain the sucking children; these are political rigors, that by a
present shedding of blood, saves the lives of many thousands afterwards:
this putting all to the sword, intimidates small towns for making feeble
efforts for an impossible defence; which by losing some time, and some
few men’s lives only, enrages the conquerer at last, to use the same
severity with them too, to punish their obstinacy. These are bloody
maxims of war, but necessary sometimes, therefore lawful. But you
(gentlemen) had not the least shadow of pretence for your lust or your
avarice: if these are the insolent effects of your friendship, I fear no
body will admit of your alliances, much less court them. Friendship
betray’d, is the blackest crime that is, and what so far degrades a
gentleman from the character of honour, that miracles of bravery in
sieges afterwards wou’d never wear out the blot: but as if you had
resolved to make yourselves odious, by making the fact more infamous,
they must be nuns too, forsooth, that must be constrained to your
libidinous authority. Your sacrilegious covetousness might have met with
a shadow of excuse, if your intemperance had proceeded no farther: and
indeed they must have a great deal of wit as well as goodness, that can
invent any thing like a reason to mitigate the abomination of it. You,
old commanders, you, old covetous lechers, the bane of an army, the
reproach of the best general, and of the most glorious princess. What
laurels have your lust and rapines torn from _O_----’s brows? What
honours from your _English_ arms? And what vast advantages from your own
sovereign? Had not your impious carriage made implacable enemies of
those that were not quite resolved to continue long so at all, this
summer had rais’d your princess to that pinnacle of renown and grandeur,
that none ever surpass’d, and but few ever came up to besides our
illustrious queen, of whom no man can say too much; therefore of you,
gentlemen, none can say too ill. A design so deeply laid, so cautiously
manag’d, so long conceal’d, so wisely concerted, cou’d not possibly miss
of a happy event, if your impious indignities had not constrained heaven
to blast the undertaking, to shew it was just; thus the army perished
for _David_’s having numbred the people: you went to free ’em from a
foreign dominion, to settle the right of government in the right person,
to prevent innovations, and relieve the oppress’d; in a word, to do
justice to every subject. Oh, the plausible pretext! the noble reasons
for so chargeable an expedition! yet no sooner has the justice of the
cause in general crown’d your attempts with success, but your particular
outrages pull down vengeance, and raise yourselves enemies even out of
the dust; the consciousness of your wickedness blunts the edge of your
swords, and adds new life and vigour to those whom your courage and
generosity had almost vanquish’d before. Sir _Walter Rawleigh_, my
worthy companion of arms, refused two millions of ducats, and burnt the
merchants ships at _Port Royal_, because that was his errand, and he was
as just as he was brave. Had you two but commanded there (gentlemen) the
_Spanish_ merchants had not need have made so large an offer: half the
money and ten young nuns a-piece, and you had betray’d your country.
However, we question not but in a little time, or by the next packet at
least, to hear that justice is executed upon you both to absolve the
nation, and atone for so abominable and unpardonable, so nefarious and
ungentlemen-like an action. You will find a place on the other side of
our river, that will cool your courage, by way of antiperistasis, with
wond’rous heat.
_Don_ ALPHONSO PEREZ _de_ GUSMAN, _Duke of_ Medina Sidonia,
_Admiral of the invincible_ Armada, _to Monsieur_ CHATEAU-RENAULT,
_at_ Rodondello.
Why this mighty concern for what cannot be avoided? Why this chagrin?
Why this _mal au cœur_? You might have fancied yourself invincible, you
might have got a sanctified pass from his holiness, it would still have
had the same catastrophe. The _English_ are hereticks, man, they value
none of these evangelical charms of a rush; their bullets have no
consideration in the world for a relique, nor their small-shot for a
chaplet. Besides, they are so well acquainted with our seas, their own
channel is hardly more familiar to them. This is but the old grudge of
88, when queen _Elizabeth_ thump’d us so about: considering all things,
I think you are come off very well. What signifies a few paultry hulks?
The plate we are sure you had prudently carried over the mountains in
1500 carts at least, an undertaking as little dream’d of, and as much
surprizing, as prince _Eugene_’s passing the _Alps_; but with this
plaguy unlucky disadvantage, that it may not be quite so true. Now and
then in my more reserved speculations, I stumbled upon that same
_Drake_, that burn’d about 100 of our ships at _Cadiz_; upon my honour I
can’t forgive him, and yet can’t blame him neither. But those two
galeons that were so richly laden, stick in my stomach most
confoundedly. No wonder our affairs prosper no better, for those same
hereticks have taken away several of our saints; that same _Drake_ I
mentioned just now, he run away with _St. Philip_. Besides this, these
_English_ water-dogs swam after us into _Cadiz_, and went to _Pointal_,
and there firk’d us so about the pig-market, that we were even glad to
save our bacon, and fire some of our ships, and run the others on
ground; there too, after burning the admiral, these unsanctifyed ranters
stole away, not sneakingly, but with an open hand, and main force, two
most glorious saints more, St. _Matthew_ and St. _Andrew_. There was
another too of those _English_ bully-rocks, Sir _Walter Rawleigh_, with
a pox to him, he serv’d us a slippery trick indeed, for he took away
the mother of God, and God knows she was worth one hundred and fifty
thousand pounds sterling, not reckoning the other smaller craft that
went with him only to bear her company. There is something in our
destinies that gives them an ascendant over us; and a brave man scorns
to buckle to fortune. You may live to be beaten again as I was, and poor
_Alphonso de Leva_, nay, honest _Recalde_, he was cursedly maul’d too
with his rear squadron; and to add to my misfortunes, I was a little
while after drubb’d again by them, I thought they never would have done
dancing round me for my part: but what consummated my disgrace, and
still leaves the deepest impression on my spirits, is the burning my
fleet at _Calais_; there I must own it sincerely to you, I was somewhat
astonished: I thought _Vesuvius_ had been floating upon the water, or
mount _Ætna_ had out of kindness come to light me thro’ the north
passage home: but this was a hellish invention of those _Englishmen_ to
set my ships on fire, and destroy us all.
Now this similitude of our destinies having endeared you to me, I
thought my comparing our notes together might mitigate part of your
affliction. Nay, thus far we are again alike in the frowns of insulting
fortune, that they will make new medals with the old inscription, _dux
fœmina facti_. Indeed you must give me leave, Sir, to be a little free
with you, that is, to tell you for ought I know, providence may have
ordered it so, to shew that the wisdom of man is really but a chimera,
and as _Spain_, when in the highest exaltation of its glory, with a vast
fleet that was three years equipping, and consisted of no less than 130
sail of ships, enough to have forc’d her way thro’ the universe; yet
with all this preparation, a single woman, embroil’d in her state at
home, not only made head against us, but even quite destroy’d us;
insomuch, that the kingdom of _Spain_ was never fully able to recover
the vast expence of this fleet, and the continued losses that attended
its being beaten: in like manner, Sir, what know we but that the kingdom
of _France_, being now even at the summit of glory, and by the accession
of the _Spanish_ interest, so entirely at his own devotion, may not see
all his laurels torn from his brows by a queen, and to the dishonour of
the _Salic_ law, make the greatest of all its monarchs truckle to a
woman, whom they thought incapable of reigning. I don’t say this will be
certainly so, but examining all occurrences hitherto, it looks but
scurvily upon the _Spanish_ and _French_ side. For _France_ was never so
many times, and so considerably defeated since he sat upon the throne,
and that too both by sea and land. Indeed the _English_ in these parts
grow very pragmatical upon it, and at every turn call for _a son of a
whore of a_ Spaniard _to make snuff of_. Cardinal _Granvil_, that was
the ablest head-piece of his time, avers it so positively, that I dare
not aim at a contradiction; and his opinion is, That the _English_, who
are naturally good when they are yielded to, and only obstinate and
angry when they are oppos’d, will ever be happily governed by a queen;
and he assigns this for a reason, that the monarchy of _England_ having
a great alloy of a republick, they are more jealous of their warlike
princes than of their weak ones, and least they should happen to give a
daring prince an unhappy opportunity of treading upon their necks, if
they should stoop any thing low, they will always in parliament keep him
at some distance; but as a woman cannot pretend to guide the reins of
empire by a strong hand, they must do it by a wise head; therefore not
trusting so much to her own judgment, as hot-headed man does, she does
nothing without the advice of her council; and that is a small
parliament, as a parliament is a grand national council, and this method
of government suits best with the _English_ temper: from whence I
conclude, that _England_ never was in so fair a prospect of doing
herself justice, and asserting her rights, since that miracle of a woman
queen _Elizabeth_, as it is at this juncture. For so glorious and
triumphant beginnings open all her subjects hearts, and their coffers
with them, which cannot tend but to our ruin and shame. Make haste
hither, and get out of the confusion that you cannot long defer.
MARCELLINUS _to Mons._ BOILEAU.
_Nay, this is beyond the possibility of patience! and tho’ there is much
due to the character of princes, yet there is more to ourselves and
truth; and I cannot without the highest injustice and ingratitude
possible, but remind you of some of the actions of your idol monarch,
which with so much reason dispute with each other, which was the most
enormous and tyrannical. I only endeavour’d to make_ Julian _the
apostate, pass upon posterity for a hero, and you call me an insolent
brazen-fac’d rascally flatterer. If I exceeded the exactness of an
historian, it was because in that treatise I set up for a courtier, and
sincerity in such people is of the most dangerous consequence
imaginable. If the emperor_ Julian _had been the first monster in
nature, that met with a willing pen to set his actions in a less
inglorious light than others expected, and naked truth required; yet I
am sure he is not the greatest. Your master has trac’d all the footsteps
of his cruelty and policy; for if he manag’d matters so swimmingly
between the catholicks and_ Arrians, _that he secur’d himself by their
divisions_, Loüis _has all along done the same: if he countenanced the_
Jews, Loüis _supported the_ Turks, _if he destroyed the christians_,
Loüis _had done it in a much more barbarous and perfidious manner. If he
threw down the images of_ Christ _at_ Cæsarea Philippi, Loüis _has acted
the same in the front of the jesuits_[55] Church: _now since you have
dar’d to consecrate the reputation of your king, why so many bitter
invectives against me a petty_ Pagan, _for speaking in favour of my
master? you modern wits, that value your selves so much upon the having
refin’d our dross, have sunk as scandalously low in matters of flattery
as any of us. We are continually pestered here with disputes; and every
court rings with the different claims. The_ popes _send_ legates _hither
for their saints_, Pluto _won’t let one of them go, because they are
damned. Others will have it that their time is fulfilled in Purgatory,
therefore would be discharged: but the Devil knows better things,
Father_ Garnet _too, that execrable engine of the_ Powder-Plot _storms
and raves, but the horned gentlemen with cloven feet laugh at him, and
his canonization. Where was there ever so much innocent christian blood
shed as on_ Bartholomew_’s day at_ Paris? _and yet even that
unparalleled murder has been justified a thousand times by your church;
as if the accurateness of a man’s pen could make that pass for a virtue
which will be an everlasting and detestable blot_. Pelisson _is a man of
prodigious parts_, Boileau _the smoothest pen and noblest genius of his
time, because their prince is alive, and equally generous to reward
their flattery, as greedy to have it: but poor I, because I have been
dead one thousand four hundred years, and better, I am an idle rascally
fellow. But even at this distance I am no stranger to the transactions
of_ Versailles; _and since you have spit out so much of your blackest
venom against me and my hero, I shall take the freedom to call to mind
some of those very remarkable particulars which give so glorious a
lustre, as you call it, to your_ viro immortali. _His life has been one
continued series of rapines and murders, perjuries and desolations. For
tho’ the first disorders in_ Hungary, _were in some measure owing to the
injustices count_ Teckeley _received from the ministers of the empire,
yet it is undeniably true, that_ France _fomented the war, and
sollicited the_ Turk _to espouse_ Teckeley_’s quarrels, and promised to
assist him himself. The negotiations of the_ French _ambassadors at the
Port, the vast sums of money remitted to_ Teckeley, _and the endeavours
to disengage the king of_ Poland _and the duke of_ Bavaria _from the
interest of the empire; these things, Mons._ Boileau, _were not managed
with so much secrecy, but the more essential particulars are come to
many peoples knowledge. His other underhand dealings with several
princes and cities of_ Germany, _shewed his formidable army in_ Alsatia
_was not to succour the empire, but to seize on it. But the raising the
siege at_ Vienna _broke all their measures at_ Versailles, _and the king
of_ France, _confounded at his disappointment, vented his rage upon his
own subjects, and that part of them too that set the crown upon his
head, when the most considerable of the_ Roman Catholicks _abandon’d his
interest. The ravage he committed in the territories of the three
ecclesiastical electors, and in the_ Palatinate _at the same time,
shewed him rather the scourge of mankind, than the eldest son of the
church_.
_’Tis true, there never was any prince but had his flatterers: but you_
French _have been guilty of the grossest to the present king of_ France,
_that ever were recorded. My_ Julian _would have blush’d, or rather
trembled, at such blasphemous adulation_. Loüis _has been adored for his
mercy, and yet exceeded our_ Nero _in barbarity and bloodshed. Fire and
sword were mild executioners of his cruelty; for his impetuous lust of
mischief has been so fruitful in inventing torments, that he has made
all those forms of death desirable to his subjects that were the
reproach of tyrants: his ingenious malice has contrived exquisite pain,
without destroying the persons that suffer it; and if he could compel
man to be immortal, he would vie miseries with hell itself. He scorns
all the humble paths of_ Domitian_’s perfidiousness: such puny perjuries
are too mean for_ Loüis le Grand: _And since he could not possibly make
them greater in their nature, he aggravated them by their number. The
peace of the_ Pyreneans, _that of_ Aix la Chapelle, _that of_ Nimeguen,
_the truce for twenty years, the edict of_ Nants, _the treaty at_
Reswick, _are sufficient arguments, that he only promised that he might
not perform; and vow’d to observe treaties that he might have the
lechery of breaking them afterwards with a more execrable guilt. Your
servile flattery stiles him the restorer and preserver of the peace of_
Christendom, _yet he arm’d the Crescent against the Cross, and carried
desolation through every corner of_ Europe. _There is no prince but he
has invaded, no neighbour that he has not oppress’d, no law that he has
not violated, no religion that he has not trampled on, and shewed the
successors of St._ Peter, _that he had one sword sharper than both
theirs. His panegyrists have refined the impious wit of_ Commodus_’s
sycophants; and lest books should not transmit their blasphemies low
enough to posterity, they have raised superb monuments of his arrogancy
and their own shame. What statues, what pictures of him at_ Versailles,
Fountainbleau, Marly, _the_ Louvre, _the_ Invalides, Paris _gates, the_
Palace Royal, _&c. Where have I, Mons._ Boileau, _arm’d my_ Julian _with
a [56] thunderbolt? have I any thing equal to your_ viro immortali, _to
your_ divo Ludivico? _Why then am I such an infamous flatterer, such a
sneaking cringing rascal? I have nothing comparable to your fustian
bombast, nor to the hyperboles of_ Pelisson, _nor the impertinent titles
of every_ Frenchman _that sets pen to paper. I leave the world to judge,
if my hero has not a juster claim to all the eulogies I have given him,
ten thousand times preferable to_ Loüis le Grand, _and yet you have said
ten thousand times more of him_.
POSTSCRIPT.
_Just as I was dispatching this, a mail came in from_ Spain, _that gave
us an account of the king of_ France_’s having extended his dominions
over the plate-fleet; but whilst he was drinking_ Chateau-Renault_’s
health, some two or three merry_ English _boys run away with it all;
which has given_ Loüis _and his grandson such a fit of the cholick, that
they are not expected to live long under such terrible agonies:
whereupon the Devil has order’d a thousand chaldron of fresh brimstone
to air their apartments against they should come_.
CORNELIUS GALLUS _to the Lady_ DILLIANA _at_ BATH.
_Charming_ Dilliana,
I shall not blush to own I have been in love, since the wisest men that
ever were yet, have found their philosophy too weak to prevent the
tyranny of the blind boy. However, though they were sensible of the
powers of beauty, yet they were all ignorant of its cause. The painter
that first drew _Cupid_ with a fillet over his eyes, did not mean that
he was blind; but that it was impossible to express their various
motions: sometimes eager desire adds new darts to their sparkling rages:
sometimes chilling fear in a minute overcasts their glittering beams;
joy drowns ’em in an unusual moisture, and irresolution gives ’em a
gentle trembling despair, sinks ’em into their orbits: jealousy
re-ascends the expiring flame: and one kind look from the person we
adore, sweetly sooths ’em up again; and it is easy to remark from their
sudden composedness the new calm and tranquillity of the mind. We may
say as much of love as of beauty, we all knew there is such a thing,
but none of us can tell what it is; ’tis not youth alone that is expos’d
to the fatal tempest of this raging passion: age itself has yielded to
its attacks; and we have seen some look gaily in their love, tho’ they
were stepping into their graves. It laughs at the most ambitious man,
and makes a monarch turn vassal to his own subjects: it makes the miser
lavish of his ador’d dust and the hoarded ore profusely scatter’d at his
charmer’s feet: nay, the poets themselves did not feign _Cupid_ so
extravagant, as many philosophers felt him: however, love is the great
springhead from whence all our felicities flow; and our condition would
be worse than that of the very beasts, if it were exempted from this
darling passion: yet it is as true too, that there is nothing upon the
earth so enormous and detestable, but love has been the occasion of it
at one time or other. That glorious emanation of divinity, the breath of
life which gave us the similitude of our Creator, is often stifled by
this raging passion, reason revolts, and joining partly with love,
proves our ruin, by justifying a thousand absurdities: and there is no
misery to which mankind may be said to be subject to, that is not caused
by love. There would be no sorrow, no fear, no desire, no despair, no
jealousy, no hatred, if there were no love. The soul becomes a restless
sea whose tumultuous waves are continually foaming, every sense is an
inlet to this violent passion: and there are but few objects which can
affect the soul, that do not give it birth: as heat produces some things
and destroys others, so love, not unlike it, is the origin of good and
evil. It may be call’d the school of honour and virtue; and yet not
improperly a theatre of horror and confusion too.
’Tis the powerful and pleasing band of human society; without it there
would be no families, no kingdoms; and yet we read of an _Alexander_
that sacrific’d a whole city to a smile of a mistress. _Anthony_
disputed the world with _Cæsar_, yet chose rather to lose it than be
absent from _Cleopatra_’s arms. _David_ forgot the august character of a
man after God’s own heart, and though so famous for prowess as well as
piety, basely murther’d the injur’d _Uriah_, the more freely to enjoy
the lovely adulteress. Charming _Sempronia_, the fire is pure in itself,
’tis the matter only that sends up all those offensive clouds of smoak;
and if nature were not depraved, love would not cause these disorders:
’twou’d not mix poyson with wine to destroy a rival, and thro’ a sea of
blood and tears wade to its object. Love is the most formidable enemy a
wise man can have, and is the only passion against which he has no
defence. If anger surprise him, it lasts not long, and the same minute
concludes it as commenc’d it: If by a slower fire his choler boils, he
prevents its running over; but love steals so secretly, and so sweetly
withal; into every corner of our hearts, into every faculty of the soul,
that it is absolutely master before we can perceive it. When once we
discover it, we are quite undone: at the same time he triumphs over our
wisdom, and our reason too, and makes them both his vassals to maintain
his tyranny: what else could mean those numerous follies of the
adulterous gods descending in viler forms to commit their rapes?----
The first wound that beauty makes is almost insensible, and though the
deadly poison spreads through every part; we hardly suspect we are in
danger. At first indeed we are only pleas’d with seeing the person or
talking of ’em, affecting an humble complaisance for all they say, or
do, the very thinking on them is charming; and the desires we have as
yet, are so far from impetuosity, that no philosopher could be so rigid
as to condemn us.
Hitherto ’tis well, but ’tis hardly love, for that like a bee, forfeits
its name if it has no sting. But alas! the lurking fire quickly bursts
out, and that pleasing idea which represented itself so sweetly and so
respectfully to the soul one moment before, now insolently obtrudes upon
our most serious thoughts, and makes us impious even at the horns of the
altar; she perfidiously betrays us in our very sleep itself, sometimes
appearing haughty and scornfully, sometimes yielding and kind; and this
too when there is no reason for either. The infant-passion is now become
a cruel father of all other passions; cruel indeed, for he has no sooner
given birth to one, but he stifles it to introduce another; whose
short-liv’d fate is just the same, and destroy’d the next moment it is
born.
Hope and despair, joy and sorrow, courage and fear, continually succeed
each other; anger, jealousy, and revenge, distract the mind; and all
these mingled, their fury is like a storm blowing from every corner of
the heavens: then the lover, like the ocean, agitated by such boisterous
winds, he foams and roars, the swelling waves of his boiling appetite
dash each other to pieces, the foggy clouds of melancholy and
disappointment intercept the glittering rays of reason’s sun; the
rattling thunder of jealous rage breaks thro’ his trembling sphere, when
his understanding returns but for a moment, ’tis like darted lightning
piercing thro’ the obscure of violent passions, and shews nature in
every lover a confusion almost equal to her original chaos.
Whoever was really in love (_charming Sempronia_) will readily confess
the allegory to be just. Tho’ nothing has surprised me more in affairs
of this nature than that most men who have been sensible of this passion
do not care to own it, when once their more indulgent fate has put a
period to it; as if it were a calling their judgment in question to
believe they thought a woman handsom. Your eyes justify our adoration,
and will ever constitute the felicity of
_Corn. Gallus._
_From Bully_ DAWSON _to Bully_ W----
_Confound you for a monumental Sluggard_,
I have been dead and damn’d these seven years, and left your talkative
bulkiness behind me as the only fit person in the town to succeed me in
blustring bravadoes and non-killing skirmishes; and you like a lazy
hulk, whose stupendious magnitude is full big enough to load an elephant
with lubberliness, to sot away your time in _Mongo_’s fumitory, among a
parcel of old smoak-dry’d cadators, and not so much since my departure,
as cut a link-boy over the pate, pink a hackney-coachman, or draw your
sword upon a cripple, to fill the town with new rumours of your wonted
bravery, and make the callow students of the wrangling society wag their
unfledg’d chins over their pennyworths of _Ninny Broth_? adds
fleshly-wounds, in what sheeps-head ordinary have you chew’d away the
meridian altitude of your tygerantick stomach? and where squander’d away
the tiresom minutes of your evening-leisure, over seal’d _Winchesters_
of three-penny guzzle: that in all this time you have never exerted your
hectorian talent, but keep your reputation mustying upon an old
foundation, which is ready to sink, for want of being repair’d by some
new notable atchievements.
Do you think the obsolete renown of cutting off a knight’s thumb in a
duel, and keeping on’t in your pocket three weeks for a tobacco-stopper;
lying with the _French_ king in your travels, and kicking him out of bed
for farting in his sleep; answering the challenge of a life-guardman for
tearing a hole in his stocking with the chape of your sword when his
jack-boots were on; gone where honour calls, behind _Southampton_ walls:
return by five, if alive, _Hen. W----n_. disarming three highwaymen
upon the road with two-pence half-penny in your pocket, and letting them
go upon their parole of honour; wearing a wig for ten years together
without losing the curl or combing out one hair; taking a tyger by the
tooth; and the _Grand seignior_ by his whiskers; bearing an ensign in a
mimick fight upon your atlantick shoulders; knocking a shiting porter
down, when you were drunk, backwards into his own sir-reverence; your
duel with _Johannes in nubibus_, in behalf of a lady you never set eyes
on; your eating five shillings-worth of meat at a nine-penny ordinary,
and at last treated by the man of the house to have no more of your
custom; do you think these, or a hundred like antiquated exploits are
sufficient to maintain the character of a stanch bully without new
enterprizes? no, an old reputation is like an old house, which if not
repaired often, must quickly fall of necessity to decay and will at
last, by little, for want of new application, be totally obliterated.
Therefore, if ever you intend to be my rival in glory, you must fright a
bailiff once a day, stand kick and cuff once a week, challenge some
coward or other once a month, bilk your lodging once a quarter, and
cheat a taylor once a year, crow over every coxcomb you meet with, and
be sure you kick every jilt you bully into an open-legg’d submission and
a compliance of treating you; never till then will the fame of _W----n_
ring like _Dawson_’s in every coffee-house, or be the merry subject of
every tavern tittle-tattle.
[Illustration: _Bully Dawson in the Bilboes._
_Vol. II. p. 189._]
To let you know I am not like a cock or a bull-dog to lose my courage
when I change my climate, I shall proceed to give you a very modest
account of some of my bold undertakings in these diabolical confines,
these damn’d dusky unsavory grottos, where altho’ there are whole rivers
of brimstone for the convenient dipping of card-matches, yet if a man
would give one ounce of immortality for so much of a rush-candle, ’tis
as hard to be purchas’d upon the faith of a christian, as if you were to
buy honey of a bear, or a stallion of a lascivious duchess, that wants
frication more than she does money; so that at my first entrance into
this damn’d dark cavern, I stagger’d about by guess, like some drunken
son of a whore tumbled into a _Newcastle_ cole-pit; and finding myself
in this ugly condition, I could not forbear breathing a few curses out
upon the place, which, by the lord of the territories, were thrown away
as much in vain, as if I had carried lice to _Newgate_, or wish’d the
people mad in _Bedlam_: as I thus blunder’d about like a beetle in a
hollow tree, I happen’d to break my shins against a confounded poker,
upon which I made a damnable swearing for a light, that I might see
whereabouts I was, but to no purpose; I found I might as well have
call’d upon _Jupiter_ to have lent me his hand to have dragg’d me out of
_Pluto_’s dominions. This sort of stumbling entertainment so provok’d my
patience, that tho’ I knew I was under the devil’s jurisdiction, yet I
could not tell, but like a debtor in a prison, or bully in a
bawdy-house, I might fare the better for mutinying, so that I discharg’d
such a volley of new-coin’d oaths, and made such damn’d roaring and
raving, that the devils began to fear I should put hell in an uproar;
upon this a couple of tatterdemalion hobgobblings, that look’d like a
brace of scare-crows just flown out of a pease-field, seiz’d me by the
shoulders and run me into the bilboes; confound you, said I, for a
couple of hell-cats, what’s this for? For, crys one of the grim
potentates, as saucily as a reforming constable, for your tumultuous
noisy behaviour, why sure, you don’t think you are got into a
bear-garden. Wounds, quoth I, thou talk’st as if the devil kept a
conventicle; why hell at this rate is worse than a parliament-house, if
a man mayn’t have the liberty of speech, especially when ’tis to redress
his grievances.
Just as we were thus parlying, who should come by, but _Bob Weden_,
jabbering to him self like a jack-daw in a cherry-tree that had lost his
mate, I knew him by his hoarse voice, which sounded like the lowest note
of a double courtel: who’s there, _Bob_, said I? Captain, says he, I am
heartily glad to see you; yes, yes, I am that very drone of a bag-pipe,
you may know me by my hum; I have got my _quietus_ at last, and I thank
my stars, by the help of rum and hot weather, have bilk’d all my
_English_ creditors. Why where the devil, said I, did you die then, that
you give your creditors, the epithet of _English_? just over our head,
says he, in that damn’d country _Barbadoes_, where my brains us’d to
boil by the heat of the sun like a hasty-pudding in a sauce-pan; have
been in a sweat ever since above seven months before I died; all the
while I liv’d in that damn’d treacly colony, I fancied myself to be just
like a live grig toss’d into a frying-pan; and now death, pox on him for
a raw-head and bloody-bones, has toss’d me out of the frying-pan into
the fire. Indeed, _Bob_, said I, I could wish myself in an ice-house
heartily, for I have been in a kind of hectic fever ever since my
admittance. Zounds, says he, ’tis so hot there’s no enduring on’t; its a
country fit for nothing but a salamander to live in; if _Abednego_’s
oven had been but half so hot, if any of them had come out without
singing their garments, I’d have forsworn brandy to all eternity. Well
but, prithee captain, how came your pedestals to be in this jeopardy? I
told him the truth tho’ I was in a damn’d lying country, only for
cursing and swearing a little. Oh! says he, you must have a great care
of that for here are a parcel of whiggish devils lately climb’d into
authority, who tho’ they were the forwardest of all the infernal host,
in the rebellion against heaven, yet of late they pretend to such
demurity as to form a society for the _Regulation of Manners_, tho’
themselves are a parcel of the wickedest spirits in all hell’s
dominions; but however, have a little patience, I have a justice of
peace hard by of my acquaintance, who tho’ he be one of their kidney as
to matter of religion, yet I know he’ll be as drunk with burn’d brandy
as a sow with hogwash; will bugger a _Succubus_ when his lust’s
predominant; and as for cursing and swearing, he’s more expert at it
than a losing gamester, and if I meet him in a merry humour, I don’t
doubt but to prevail.
Thus _Bob_ left me for a few moments, and indeed had we been in a
brandy-shop where we had had any thing to have paid, I should have much
question’d his return; but being in a strange country, where friends are
always glad to meet one another, and being free from the predicament of
a reckoning, I had some hopes of his being as good as his word, which in
the other world all his acquaintance knew as well as my self, he was
never over careful to preserve.
During his absence, I had little else to do but to curse the country,
and scratch my ears for want of liberty, which were terrified with the
buzzing of a parcel of fanatical souls, who swarm’d as thick as bees at
a _Hampshire_-farmers, some damning of doctor _B----ges_, others
confounding of _Timothy Cr--soe_, some raving against _Me--d_ of
_Stepney_, others cursing of _Salters-Hall_, &c. as if the ready road to
hell was to travel through _Presbytery_.
By this time my friend _Bob_ was as good as his word, which was the
first time I ever knew him so. Well, says he, you may see I am as sure
as a _Robin_, I have got your discharge; but the justice swears, had you
been confin’d for any thing besides whoring, drinking, and swearing, you
should have been shackled and been damn’d before he’d ever have releas’d
you; but however here’s a little _Scribere cum dasho_ will set you at
liberty; upon which we call’d the constable of the ward, who, upon sight
of the discharge, freed my supporters from confinement, which was no
sooner done, but with a reciprocal joy for my happy deliverance, we
began a ramble together thro’ all the neighbouring avenues, in hopes to
meet with something that might give us a little diversion; we had not
travelled above an hundred yards, but who should we meet but the old
snarling rogue that us’d to cry _poor Jack_, with his wife after him; he
no sooner espy’d us, but attack’d us open-mouth’d after the following
manner, _Two sharpers without one penny of money in their pockets; a
couple of bullies, and both cowards, ha, ha. Now for a fool with a full
pocket, a good dinner on free-cost, a whore and a tavern, a belly-full
of wine without paying for’t, ha, ha, ha, a hackney-coach for a bilk, or
a brass-shilling, a long sword, never a shirt_, White-Fryars _i’th’ day
time, a garret at night, ha, ha, ha, ha_. Thus the old rascal run upon
us as we pass’d by him, that we were both as glad when we were out of
his reach, as a hen-peck’d cuckold that has shunn’d the hisses of that
serpent he hugs every night in his bosom.
We had not gone twenty yards farther, scarce out of the reach of the
noisy tongue of this railing peripatetick, but we met _Bowman_ that kept
the _Dog-tavern_ in _Drury-lane_, whose first salutation was, _Pox take
you both for a couple of shammocking rascals, if it had not been for you
and such others of your company, I had been a living man to this day,
for you broke my tavern and that broke my heart. When I went off,
besides book-debts never paid, but cross’d out and forgiven, I had as
much chalk scored up in my bar, upon your account, as would have
whitened the flesh of twenty calves at_ Rumford, _or have cured half the
town of the heart-burn, that never were satisfied to this day, and as
certainly as you are both damn’d, I would arrest you here in the_
Devil’_s name, but that ye know a foreign plea, or the statute of
limitation are pleadable in defiance of me; and that whore my wife too,
that used to open her sluice and let in an inundation of shabroons to
gratify her concupiscence, she lent her helping buttock among ye to
shove on my ruin; but if ever I catch the strumpet in these territories,
I’ll sear up the bung-hole of her filthy firkin, but I’ll reward her for
her bitching_. _Confound you, cries_ Bob, _for a cuckoldy cydermonger;
do not you know damnation pays every man’s scores, and tho’ we tick’d in
the other world for subsistence, it was not with a design to cheat you
or any body else, for we knew we should have the Devil to pay one time
or other, and now you see, like honest men, we have pawned our souls for
the whole reckoning, and so a fart for our creditors; you see we had
rather be damn’d than not to make general satisfaction, and yet you are
not satisfied. Why a man at this rate had better live in_ Newgate _to
eternity, than be thus plagued with creditors after his arse, to put him
in mind of old scores wherever he travels; besides, ’tis against the law
of humanity, for a man to be dunn’d for a domestick debt in a foreign
country. Well, gentlemen_, says he, _I find you have not forgot your old
principles; and so good by to ye_. And thus, as _old Nic_ would have
it, we got rid of our second plague.
As we went from thence, turning down into a steep narrow lane,
irregularly pav’d with rugged flints, like the bottom of a mountain in
_North-Wales_, a damn’d greasy great fellow, with his hair thrust under
a dirty night-cap, in a dimity-wastcoat and buff-breeches, with a hugh
bucks-horn-handle-knife hanging by a silver-chain at his apron-strings,
came puffing and blowing up the hill against us, like a _crampus_ before
a storm, sweating as if he had been doing the drudgery of _Sisyphus_,
and coming near us he makes a halt, and looking me full in my face,
gives a mannerly bow, and cries, _Your servant noble captain: Friend_,
said I, _I don’t know thee. Ah! master_, said he, _time was, when you
condescended to eat many a sop in the pan in my poor kitchin; I kept the
sign of the gridiron in_ Waterlane _for many years together, but have
been damn’d, the lord help me, above these nine months, for only
cozening my customers with slink veal_. I told him I was sorry for his
condition, and hop’d I did not owe him any thing: _No, worthy master_,
says he, _not a farthing, for you never had more at a meal than a
half-penny rowl, and I always, because you were a gentleman, allow’d you
the benefit of my dripping-pan, and every time you came, you paid me for
my bread very honestly_. I did not much approve of the rogue’s memory,
so bid him farewel: but my friend _Weden_, like a bantering dog, did so
terrify my ears about my half-penny ordinary, that I had rather for the
time been flung naked into a tuft of nettles.
As he was thus teazing me, who should we stumble upon but captain
_Swinny_ the _Irishman_; you cannot but imagine a very joyful
congratulation pass’d between us: who had been stanch friends, such old
and intimate acquaintance. No sooner was our salutation over, but we
began to enquire as we us’d to do upon earth, into one another’s
circumstances: upon which, says _Swinny, By my soul and shalvation, I
have got my good old lord here, that I us’d to procure and pimp for in
t’other world; and as he gave me money upon earth to indulge him in his
sins, and provide him whores to cool his lechery, now he’s damn’d for’t,
like a grateful master, he allows me every day a dish of snapdragons to
fetch him water from_ Styx, _to cool his entrails_. I think, says
_Bob_, you were always very careful of your lord’s health, and never
brought any thing to his embraces but unpenetrated maids, or very sound
thorn-backs. _By chriesh and shaint Patrick, ’tis very true_, says he,
_for I always made my self his taster for fear he should be poison’d,
and first took a sip of the cup to try whether the juice was good or no;
and tho’ he was as great a wencher as any was in_ England, _I’ll take my
swear, excepting the gout, he’s come as sound a nobleman into hell, as
has took leave of the other world these fifty years, and was so very
bobborous two days ago, tho’ he’s near seventy, that he bid me look out
for soft-handed she-devil to give him a little frication, and said
nothing vex’d him but that he was damn’d among a parcel of spirits, with
whom he could have no carnal copulation: well, gentlemen, I must loiter
no longer, I am travelling in haste to_ Styx _to fill my lord’s bottle,
but all won’t cool his lechery, tho’ he be turn’d a perfect aquapote so,
my dear joys, farewel_.
We had not parted with him as many minutes a man may beget his likeness
in, but who should we meet but _Mumford_ the player, looking as pale as
a ghost, falling forward as gently as a catterpillar cross a
sicamore-leaf, gaping for a little air, like a sinner just come out of
the powdering tub, crying out as he crept towards us, _Oh my back!
confound ’em for a pack of brimstones: Oh my back!_ how now, Sir
_Courtly_, said I, what the devil makes thee in this pickle? Oh,
_gentlemen_, says he, I am glad to see you, but I am troubled with such
a weakness in my back, that it makes me bend like a superannuated
fornicator: some strain, said I, got in the other world with overheaving
your self. What’s matter how ’twas got, says he, can you tell me any
thing that’s good for’t? yes, said I, get a good warm _Girdle_ and tie
round you, ’tis an excellent corroboratick to strengthen the loins; pox
on you, says he, for a bantering dog how can a single girdle do me good,
when a _Brace_ was my destruction? I think, said I, you did die a martyr
for a pair of penetrable whiskers, fell a bleeding sacrifice to a cloven
tuft, that was glad, I believe, of your going out of the other world, as
old _Nic_ was of your coming into this, for I hear you kept the poor
titmouse under such slavish subjection, that a peer of the realm,
notwithstanding his honour, could not so much as come in to be
brother-starling with you. Nay, some say you put an _Italian_ security
upon’t, purposely to indict any body for felony and burglary that should
break open the lock. Pox confound you, says he, for a lyar, how can that
be, when half the pit knows they had egress and regress when they
pleas’d without any manner of obstruction? but tattling here won’t do my
business, I must seek out _Needham_, _Lower_, or some other famous
physician that may give me ease; so gentlemen, adieu to ye.
We had not gone much farther, but at the corner of a dirty lane we found
a wondrous throng of attentive scoundrels, serenaded by a couple of
ballad-singers, who stood in the middle of the tatter’d audience, with
their hands under their ears, singing, _With a rub, rub, rub, rub, rub,
rub, in and out, in and out ho_: who should come limping by just in the
interim, but Mr. _Dryden_ the poet: there’s a delicious song for you,
gentlemen, says he, there are luscious words wrapt up in clean linen for
you; tho’ there is a very bawdy mystery in them, yet they are so
intelligibly express’d, that a girl of ten years old may understand the
meaning of them; my lord _Rochester_’s songs are mine arse to it: well
my dear _Love for Love_, thou deservest to be poet laureat, were it only
for the composure of this seraphick ditty, ’tis enough to put musick
into the tail of an old woman of fourscore, and make a girl of fourteen
to be as knowing in her own thoughts, as her parents that got her; oh,
’tis a song of wonderful instruction, of incomparable modesty,
considering its meaning. Who should come puffing into the crowd in
abundance of haste, with a face as red as a new pantile, but _Nat Lee_?
Hark you, _Nat_, says _Dryden_, did you ever here such a feeling ballad
in your life before? egad, the words steal so cunningly into ones veins,
that nature will scarce be pacified till she has dropt some loose corns
into one’s breeches. Foh, you old lecherous beast, says _Nat Lee_,
here’s a song indeed for a poet-bays of your gravity to admire! I have
heard twenty better under _White-Fryars_ gate-way. You’re a mad man,
says _Dryden_, you never understood a song in your life, nor any thing
else, but jumbling the gods about, as if they were so many tapsters in a
lumber-house. I’ll sing you a song, says _Lee_, worth fifty on’t that I
made when I was in _Bedlam_, to be sung in my play, that had five and
twenty acts in’t; now pray observe me, and your self shall be judge.
_The gods on a day when their worships were idle,_
_Met all at the sign of the_ half-moon _and_ fiddle;
_Old_ Bacchus _and_ Venus _did lovingly joyn,_
_And swore there was nothing like women and wine:_
_They drank till they all were as merry as grigs,_
_And wallowed about like a litter of pigs;_
_Till their heads and their tails were so little apart,_
_the breath of a belch, mix’d with that of a fart;_
_But as it fell out, poor unfortunate_ Mars,
_Just nodded his nose into_ Venus’_s arse;_
_Why how now, says_ Mars, _ye old jade, d’y’ suppose,_
_Your arse was design’d as a case for my nose?_
_Then pulling his head from her bumb, fell a swearing,_
_Her honour smelt worse than a stinking red-herring_,
Well, says Mr. _Lee_, after he had ended his ditty, what think you now,
Mr. _Dryden_? Think, says he, what should I think? I think there is more
pretty tickling sort of wit in the very _chorus_ of the other, than
there is in all your piece of frantick trumpery. Thus we leave them
squabbling together, which song should have the preference, and so stept
forward.
We had not jogg’d on above a quarter of a mile further, but a parcel of
spirits in the shape of screech-owls came hovering over our heads,
crying out, _Make room, make room, for the chief pastor of the flock
will be here to night_. Think we, here’s some great guest or other a
coming; for my part I thought nothing less than an archbishop of
_C-n----y_: my friend _Bob_ was much of my opinion, and cry’d, there
was some fat priest coming in to pay his garnish, but who should it
prove at last but a dissenting doctor, trick’d up in a band and cloak,
and all the factious ornaments becoming a squeamish conscience, attended
with abundance of bald crowns and gray hairs, who came hobbling after
him like the old men of the _Charter-house_, behind their chaplain to
eleven a-clock prayers. My friend _Bob_ and I having both a curiosity to
know what _Don Prattlebox_ it was, enquir’d of a devil who had a
discerning countenance, if he knew who this new comer was? He answer’d
us ’twas doctor _Ma--th--w T--y--r_ of _Salters-hall_, and those that
attend him were some of his congregation, who were come in order to take
up lodgings for the rest, who would not be long after: Adsheart, says
_Bob_, they are the most faithful flock in the universe, for if their
shepherd comes to the devil, I see they will be sure to follow him,
whilst the churchmen are such a parcel of straying sheep, that tho’
their guides go to heaven themselves, they can perswade but very few of
their congregation to bear them company.
The next person that we met with as we were rambling about, was _Harry
Care_, the whiggish pamphleteer, who was stuff’d all over with papers as
thick as a buttock of beef with parsley, and coming near us, he ask’d
how long we had been in? Sir, said I, we are both but lately come from
the other world: pray gentlemen, says he, can you tell me how my old
friend Sir _Roger l’Estrange_ does, and whether you hear any thing of
his coming into these parts, for I am at a great loss for some body to
exercise my talent with? I left him very well, said I, but when he takes
leave of the upper world, whether he goes up hill or down hill to
eternity I can’t inform you. Sir, says he, your humble servant; and away
he troop’d and left us without further impertinence.
As we were passing by the door of a little brandy-shop, who should be
sitting upon an old worm-eaten bench, but _Sam Scott_ the Fiddle-seller,
and _Will. Elder_ the graver, each with a huge _Dutch_ pipe of infernal
mundungus in their mouths smoaking for two penny-worth of
anniseed-water. _Sam. Scott_ had one while got the start of him, which
_Will Elder_ perceiving, exercised his lungs so very strenuously, that
he overtook him at the last whiff, which they discharg’d with such
remarkable exactness, that none of the standers by could undertake to
decide the wager: when their pipes were out, we saluted one another with
abundance of friendship, and _Sam. Scott_ having an ascendency over the
house, invited us to take part of a bowl of punch, and just as we were
stepping in, who should come by but _O----n P----ce_ that dy’d drunk
at the _Dog_-tavern in the company of my friend _Weden_: mighty joyful
we were to meet thus fortunately together; and to crown the happy
juncture with an hour’s mirth, we stept into the little conveniency,
every soul seating himself upon an empty rundlet like a godson of
_Bacchus_, in order to receive the promis’d blessing: by that time we
had every one ramm’d a full charge of sot-weed into our infernal guns,
in order to fumify our immortalities, the scull of _Goliah_ was brought
in for a punch-bowl fill’d with such incomparable _Heliconian_ juice,
that six drops of it would make a man a better poet than either
_Shakespear_ or _Ben. Johnson_: by that time a cup or two were gone
about to _Pluto_ and my lady _Proserpine_, we began to fall into a merry
inquisition about one another’s damnation: prithee _Sam. Scott_, said I,
what the devil were you damn’d for? why, I’ll tell you, says _Sam_. I
was found guilty of a couple of indictments, one was for consuming 975
papers of tobacco in six months, without any assistance, to the
poisoning of many a ptisicky citizen about _Temple-bar_; and the other
was smoaking my dog to death without any provocation. Come, _Bob
Weeden_, said I ’tis your turn next, let us go round with it, prithee
what charge did the hellish informers bring against you? To tell you the
truth, says he, they prov’d me guilty of two great crimes too, one was
for dealing by my friends very knavishly: and the other was for living
by my wits very foolishly. Come, captain _Dawson_, says the company,
what sort of conviction are you under? as for my part, _gentlemen_, said
he, the chief thing that condemn’d me, was the sin of forgetfulness;
’twas only for bilking my lodging, and being so careless to leave my
perriwig-come behind me. Well, neighbour _P----ce_, said I, what was it
brought you into these territories? ’twas for living like a rake, says
he, without money, and dying drunk in a tavern with twelve shillings in
my pocket. _Will. Elder_ being the last, we summ’d up our enquiry with
his confession; truly says he, mine was a very great fault I must
acknowledge, no less than the damnable sin of omission: you must know,
_gentlemen_, the chief of my business was to grave the _Lord’s-Prayer_
within the compass of a silver penny; but to tell you the truth, I never
thought of it but when I was at work, since my eyes were open, and ’tis
chiefly for that neglect I suffer this confinement.
Well, says _Bob Weeden_, for my part, now I have got a bowl of Punch
before me, and such good company, I would not give a nitt out of my
shirt-collar to return back to my old quarters upon earth, for that was
but a life full of extreams, and this can be no other; for there I was
always very drunk or very drowsy, surfeited or very hungry, generally
very poor and very pocky, afraid to walk the streets, and no money to
keep me within doors; thought very witty by fools, and by wise men very
wicked, was every body’s jester that wanted wit, and a blockhead to all
those that had it; dunn’d every where, and trusted no where; car’d not
for any body, and belov’d by no body: and what station on this side
death can be worse than such a miserable life? What signifies a little
hot weather, when a man’s assur’d it can’t endanger his health; nothing
can be subject to sickness but what is liable to death, and that period,
immortality is free from. Come then said I, if it be so, here’s a bumper
in memory of the cellar at the _Still_, and honest _Jack Ni----ls_ the
harper, count _C----ni----s_, captain _Wa-k-er_, and all the jolly
lads of our loving acquaintance, with a huzza. In this manner we spent
the evening as merrily as so many tars under the tropicks, over their
forfeitures, till at last we had the devil to pay with empty pockets:
but _Sam Scott_, who was the undertaker of the treat, having made his
coffin into a bass-viol, gave my landlady a lesson, two or three kisses,
and a few fair words, and prevailed with her to trust him for the
reckoning; so being all saluted with you’re welcome gentlemen, we all
arose like a company of coopers from our tubs and our rundlets, and went
away hooping for more liquor.
These are all the remarkable passages that at present I think worth
transmitting to you: so, hoping you will requite me after the like
manner with something that may be entertaining to a gentleman under my
warm circumstances; if it be an essay upon ice, or a treatise of the
sovereign efficacy of rock-water, it will be a very cooling satisfaction
to your parboil’d friend,
DAWSON.
_Mr._ HENRY W----’_s Answer to Bully_ DAWSON.
_Noble Captain and Commander in Chief of all the Cowards in
Christendom._
If being smoak’d-dry’d up a chimney, like a flitch of bacon, thro’ fear
of bayliffs, being kick’d thro’ the whole town by every coxcomb, being
pox’d by every whore, and dunn’d by every scoundrel, starving, lousing,
begging, borrowing, bullying, and all the plagues of human life, would
never mend your manners upon earth, I have little reason to believe the
strict discipline of hell can make any reformation in so incorrigible a
libertine; what reason have I ever given you to affront a poet? A
gentleman of the law, a member of an inn of _Chancery_, an officer in
the trained-bands, a man of invention, known courage, worth and
integrity; a gentleman of my stature, figure, and parts, that am able to
crush a thousand such nitts as thou art under my thumb-nail: ’tis well
known to the world, I have fought many duels with success, writ many
lampoons with applause, manag’d many causes to my clients satisfaction,
told many a pleasant story to the benefit of coffee-houses, flirted out
many a jest to the delight of my companions, march’d out often to the
credit of St. _Clement_’s trained-bands, when I have been the only
wonder of all the little boys that followed us, who, to the pleasure of
my own ears, have cry’d aloud, there goes a tall ensign, there’s a
swanking fellow for you between the two blunderbusses; there’s a
_Goliah_, says the men; there’s a strong-back’d _Sampson_, says the
women: And shall I, because I have been guilty of two or three little
slips, which no man is exempt from, be put in mind of ’em, by such an
arrogant crackfart as thou art: I tell thee, bully, if thou wer’t but to
be found upon earth, I would grind thee in a paper-mill for thy
insolence, till I had made bumfodder of thee: but however, since charity
obliges every good christian to forgive a man when he is dead, I shall
pass by your affront, and take no more notice of it for the future; but
upon the word of a man of honour, had you been living, I would no more
have forgiven you, than I would have gone one day without a dinner if I
had but one book in my library; therefore all things shall be forgotten,
tho’ you have deserv’d the contrary. And since you have obliged me with
a short journal of your transactions on the other side _Styx_, I think
myself oblig’d in honour to make a return of your civility after the
like manner, for the world knows me to be a man of a forgiving temper,
and I scorn by bearing malice, or studying revenge, to forfeit my
character.
I happen’d the other night in company with some men of honour, brave
fellows, who were a little nice in their conversation, as well as their
wine, that try’d every word that was spoke by the touch-stone of good
manners, and one of them happening to say he was a lieutenant on board
one of his majesty’s small frigats, when so violent a storm rose upon
the coast of _Ireland_, that a monumental sea washing over the topmast
head, by the very pressure of its weight sunk the vessel to the bottom
of the ocean, which gave such a prodigious knock against the sand with
her keel, that the very rebound, being a tight ship, sent her up again
to the surface, without damage; and that by a watch of _Tompion_’s,
which he had in his pocket, they were three quarters of an hour and some
odd minutes in this dangerous expedition, that is, in going down and
coming up again. Lord Sir, says I, how did you breathe all that while?
Zoons, Sir, says he, ’tis an affront to ask a gentleman such a question,
and I demand satisfaction? am I bound to tell every blockhead how many
times I fetch my breath in three quarters of an hour? Nay, Sir, said I,
if you are for that sport, have at you, I’m a man of honour, and dare
wait upon you any where; with that he whisper’d me to go down stairs,
which we both did accordingly, and drawing at the door, the first pass I
made was a home thrust (for I never love to dally in such cases) and I
run him thro’ the centre of the fifth jubilee button of his coat, and
just scratch’d him in the breast, upon which he dropp’d his sword,
believing I had kill’d him; but I taking up the fallen weapon, stepp’d
to him and unbrac’d him, found he was more afraid than hurt; and that it
was but a small prick that signified nothing: Now, pray Sir, said I, how
did you breathe, I think I may make bold to ask you? I’ll tell you, Sir,
said he, I took in the water at my mouth, just as a fish does, but
having no gills to give it vent, I let it out of my fundament. Upon
which answer, I was well satisfy’d, gave him his sword, and we became as
great friends as the devil and the earl of _Kent_.
Another duel I had since that, (for you must know challenges come thick
and threefold upon me, like actions upon a breaking shop-keeper) which I
hope for its singularity, will prove a little entertaining to you; I
happened lately to be invited to a gentleman’s chamber in _Grays-Inn_,
to drink part of a bowl of punch; accordingly I went, and was very
plentifully entertained among some other gentlemen of my acquaintance,
with a capacious vessel of this most noble _Diapente_, insomuch, that we
were all elevated above the use of our legs, as well as our reason. The
gentleman that gave us the entertainment, by the assistance of his man,
made a shift to get to bed about twelve at night, but the rest lay up
and down in the corners of the room, snoaring like so many gorg’d swine,
and battening in their own snivel, which tobacco had drain’d from their
moist entrails: I guarded the garrison of good liquor the very last man,
and maintain’d my post at the table like a true _English_ hero, till
between _Bacchus_ and _Morpheus_, like the rest of my companions, I was
lull’d into a lethargy, and falling forward in my chair upon the table,
my forehead happen’d to take the edge of the punch bowl, and turn’d it
clear over my head, that it served me for a night-cap, my nose being
drowned in the remains of the punch; every time I drew up my breath, up
went a spoonful, so that in a little time my nostrils were syring’d as
clean as a lady’s honour by noon, that has drank two quarts of _Epsom_
waters for her mornings draught: but after some time being almost
suffocated, nature finding itself oppress’d, gave me a jog, and wak’d me
out of this drunken slumber. I had not scratch’d my ears, and rubb’d my
eyes above three minutes, but awakes another; O lord! says he, that a
man should lead this wicked life, to be married but a fortnight and play
these tricks, my wife will think I am a whoring already, or plague
herself with some damn’d whimsy or other. By this time a third awakes,
starts up like a ghost out of a grave, crying, A little drink for the
Lord’s sake, for I am
[Illustration]
as drowsy as if I had been dry’d in an oven all night, and with that
whips up the punch-bowl to his head, and drinks off the rincings of my
nostrils as heartily as if it had been sherbet made on purpose for a
cooler, and by the way, ever since that time has found such an
alteration in his faculties, that from a very dull fellow he is become
an absolute wit, to the admiration of all that knew him, tho’ I never
durst tell him it was from the dripping of my brains that he deriv’d his
ingenuity. But to be short in my story, when I was thoroughly awak’d, I
began to have a wambling in my stomach, as if I had supp’d over night
with a mountebank’s toad-eater, the chamber-pot being full, I was
unwilling to defile the room, and before I was aware, let fly into my
_lignum-vitæ_ night-cap, and being then pretty well at ease, I open’d
the chamber door, and stagger’d homewards; at the end of _Turnstile_ I
happen’d to make a trip at a drunkard’s enemy, a stump, and down I
tumbled; who should come by before I could get up again, but the
constable going his rounds, who quickly made me the centre of a circle
of jack of lanthorns, and seeing me grovelling on the ground, did not
know but some body had mischiev’d me, upon which they ask’d me if I was
wounded? Yes said I, sadly cut. Where, where, Sir, cries the watchmen? I
reply’d, about the head; they cry’d out, who did it, who did it! punch,
punch, said I; one of the watchmen being a fat short fellow, they us’d
to call him punch, by my soul, Sir, said he to the constable, I never
saw the gentleman all the night before, and with that they haul’d me up,
and perceiving their mistake, two of them, like honest fellows, handed
me home to my chambers, without so much as stealing my hat, or picking
my pockets, which was a wonder: I had not been many hours in bed, but
comes the footman of the gentleman who entertain’d us, to my door with a
challenge, for affronting him for his civility, by spewing into his
punch-bowl. I sent him word I would not fail to meet him at the time and
place appointed, God willing; so put on a clean shirt, and equipp’d
myself for the adventure. But considering I had a man of fortitude to
deal with, and one that would face any thing upon earth, except a cat,
which he hated much more than he did the sight of the devil; I
therefore thought policy beyond strength against such an adversary, so
resolv’d to set my wits to work to prevent bloodshed, and fortunately
having a cat in my chamber that had not kitten’d above a week? I took
the whole progeny out of the nest, which consisted of half a dozen, puts
three into one coat-pocket, and three into t’other, and away I march’d
behind _Southampton-wall_ to meet my antagonist; where I waited but a
few minutes e’er he approach’d the place in a great fury; I argued the
matter reasonably with him, but found nothing would atone for the
affront but downright fighting, so steping a few paces back, he gave me
the word and draws. I instead of applying my hands to my sword, apply’d
them to my safer ammunition the kittens, and fortifies each fist with a
young Mrs. _Evans_; I grip’d ’em hard to make ’em mew, that the onset
might be the more terrible; no sooner did he set his eyes upon his
little squawling adversaries, but away he scower’d, as if a legion of
devils had been in pursuit of him. I after him, tossing now and then one
of my hand-granadoes at him, but took care to pick them up again, lest
my ammunition should be spent. Who should follow me into the fields at a
distance by the scent, but the old one, in quest of her young, who by
this time came up with us, and seeing her hopeful issue thus terribly
abus’d, she flew about like a fury; at first he only travers’d his
ground at a little distance, but when he saw the mother of the family
come cocking her tail, whetting her talons, and staring worse than a
dead pig, he ran outright to _Totnam-Court_, as if vengeance had pursued
him, took sanctuary at _Inman_’s, since which retreat I have not yet
seen him; but for self-preservation, which you know is nature’s law, I
have ever since walk’d arm’d with a brace of kittens in my pocket, for
fear of farther danger.
These are late testimonials of my courage, to let you see I dare yet
meet any body upon the old killing spot, tho’ he be a better man than
myself, and what is wanting in courage, I can supply with policy at any
time: therefore consider how much you wrong me when you accuse me of
idleness, since my prowess is sufficiently shewn in every days
adventure.
So much for my courage, and now for a few certificates of my wit, for
which the world, as well as yourself, knows I am equally famous: I
happen’d the other day to be at _Nando_’s coffee-house in company with a
person, who was exclaiming heavily against a weaver of whores hair for
cheating him in a wig. Sir, said I, next time you have occasion for a
new noddle-case, if you please, I’ll recommend you to the honestest
perriwig maker in _Christendom_; I bought this wig on my head of him, it
cost me but fifteen shillings, and I have wore it _de die in diem_ these
nine years and upwards, and you see it’s not yet dwindled into
scandalous circumstances; and, Sir, if you please I’ll tell you for what
reason he can afford better penny-worths than the rest of the trade; in
the first place, you must know he dwells at _Chelmsford_ in _Essex_, and
the country you are sensible admits of cheap living; in the next place,
he has nineteen daughters in his family, all bred up to his own trade,
who being kept unmarried, that their radical moisture should by no means
be exhausted, their own hair grows so prodigiously fast that it keeps
them all employ’d from the first day of _January_, to the last of
_December_, setting aside holy-days; once in four years he mows the
family round, never failing of a very plentiful crop; much about this
time I reckon his harvest is ripe, and all the neighbouring gentlemen
are flocking in to bespeak their perriwigs; some are fair girls, some
brown, some black, so that he can mix up a colour to suit any
complexion. And is this true, Sir, says the young priest? true, Sir,
said I, I hope you don’t think me so little of a christian to impose
upon a scholar, a gentleman of your function: ’tis so true, Sir, that it
brings a great trade to the town, and every body knows that _Essex_, for
_Chelmsford_ wigs, and _Rumford_ calves, out-does all the counties in
_England_. Say you so, says the _Levite_, I am come up to town about a
little business that will require my attendance about a fortnight, and
having a horse that has nothing else to do, I’ll e’en make a journey
thither to morrow, and try if I can chaffer. Sir, said I, there is not
such hair in the kingdom of _England_, as in his family, for they are
all virtuous girls, and that makes their hair the stronger; besides, all
the clergy round him are his customers, because he makes up his wigs
without any mixture of whores hair; for as contagious fumes we are
sensible will corrupt the body, who knows but the effluvias emitted from
the locks of a polluted woman, hanging so near the noftrils may be
suck’d in, to the strengthning of loose inclinations, and may beget an
appetite to fornication, too rebellious and powerful for reason to curb
into an orderly subjection. Well, says the young doctor, I’ll have one
of the wigs to carry into the country with me and please the pigs; at
_Chelmsford_ you say? yes, Sir, at _Chelmsford_ said I, the least child
in in the town knows him; ask but for the Barber and his nineteen
daughters, and you cannot miss of him.
Having thus laid the scene, I took my leave, and adjourn’d about the
business of the day, and coming from _Montague_’s shop three or four
days afterwards, I stepp’d into the same coffee-house, where I happen’d
to meet with the spiritual pastor just coming to town, who had been
erring and straying like a lost sheep in quest of _Tonsor in nubibus_.
As soon as ever he set eyes upon me, he attack’d me tooth and nail, with
as much fury as if I had been brother to the _Whore of Baylon_, and told
me I was some _Papist_, or otherwise a _Fanatick_, or else I would have
had more religion in me, than to have made a fool of a man of his
function, for that he had taken a journey on purpose to _Chelmsford_,
and could find no such barber. Pray, Sir, said I, don’t be so angry, for
since I never gave ear to your preaching, why should you listen to my
prating? and since you make fools of a whole parish every sunday, how
can you be so angry with a man to make a fool of you once in his life
time? so turn’d my back, and left the whole company to laugh at him.
You must know I love dearly to put a jest upon a priest, because it was
always my opinion, they put more jests upon the world than any people;
besides, any body may put a trick upon a block-head, but that conduces
but little to a man’s reputation. I love to put my jokes upon men of
parts, that the world may see I can bite the biter; nothing carries the
burthen of another man’s wit with a greater grace, than a sacerdotal
dromedary; therefore to let you see the wonderful regard I bear to
religion, I have one story, or piece of wit more to entertain you with,
that I hope may further divert you.
I chanc’d to be in company with a parcel of grave sermon-hunters, and
among a long catalogue of reverend orators, whose name should bring up
the rear of the eminent _Black-List_, but my honest neighbour the
dean’s? I took not their flattery for my example, but gave my tongue the
liberty to speak as I thought, and said, he was a learned blockhead;
some of my good friends had the civility to report my saying to him.
Upon which, he sent the reader of the parish to admonish me, who came
one morning very solemnly to my chamber, and took upon him to tell me
how dishonourably and unchristian-like I had done, in aspersing the
doctor with the calumny of being a learned blockhead. Truly, Sir, said
I, I am sorry I should be so unmannerly to express my sentiments so
freely: but however, since it is done and can’t be help’d, I desire you
will go back and tell him it’s more than I can say by you, for thou art
a blockhead without any learning at all, and a fit man to be sent upon
such errands. Upon this answer he lugg’d his hat over his eyes, and ran
away as sullen and as silent as the devil pinch’d by the nose did from
St. _Dunstan_, when the old gentleman had loosen’d his barnacles.
Now for a piece of my poetry to let you see my talent is universal, and
then I believe I shall have quitted scores with you. In a hot sunshine
day this summer, when the sun was climb’d to his meridian heighth, and
the progeny of every cow-turd had taken wing, and were buzzing about
streets in search of cooks shops, sugarbakers, and grocers, that a man
cou’d not walk _London_-streets without having his nose persecuted by
gnats, wasps or blue-bottles, my stomach, which is generally as forward
without sustenance at that hour, as a hungry sucking child without the
bubby, would not let me be at rest till I had purchased its pacification
at the expence of nine-pence; in order to gratify the cormorant, I
stepp’d into a cook’s shop where a six-penny slice of veal was brought
me, so garnish’d with fly-blows, that there lay a whole covey of the
little embroys upon every morsel, that I had more picking work than a
surgeon has with a patient whose buttocks are pepper’d with small shot,
which put me in such a poetick fury, by that time I had half swallowed
up my noonings, that I pluck’d out my pen and ink, and whilst my fancy
was warm writ a satire against _Fly-Blows_, wherein perhaps you may
find as much wit and ill nature mix’d artfully together as you may in
that incomparable satire, _The True-born Englishman_; so pray read and
judge favourably.
A Satire against _Fly-Blows_. By Mr. _W_----
_Ye worst of vermin that our isle affords,_
_Spawn of curs’d flies, engender’d first in t--rds_
_Ye nitty off-spring of a winged plague,_
_That swarms in mutton from the rump to th’ craig:_
_Tormentors of our cooks, all_ England’s _foes,_
_From rural gluttons, to our_ London _beaus._
_In ev’ry cloven joint thy mother’s blow,_
_Where if not crush’d, you will to maggots grow,_
_Raise your black heads, and crawl about our food,_
_And poison what was eatable and good;_
_Pollute that flesh which should our lives maintain,_
_To dogs condemn what was design’d for man._
_Ye eggs of mischief that in clusters dwell,_
_Hateful to the eyes and nauseous to the smell,_
_Ill omens of a worse succeeding harm,_
_That makes good housewives blush, the husbands storm._
_For thee the faultless cook-maid bears the blame,_
_More salt, you slattern, crys the angry dame,_
_And then the falchion-ladle goes to work:_
_I’ll teach you, jade, to salt the beef and pork._
_May showers of brine each powdering-tub o’erflow,_
_Pepper and salt in every orchard grow;_
_Then may each hand to seas’ning be employ’d,_
_That thy curs’d race may be at once destroy’d._
I’ll assure you, _Captain_, these verses are highly in esteem among all
dealers in flesh, I have had many a dinner for a copy of them, to be put
into a gilt frame, and hung up in a cook’s shop to give people a
concocting laugh after dinner, that their victuals mayn’t lie heavy upon
their stomachs. By this time I believe I have pretty well tir’d your
patience, so think it full time to conclude myself,
_Your Humble Servant_,
W----
_From_ NELL GWIN _to_ PEG HUGHES.
_Sister Peg_,
Of all the concubines in christendom, that ever were happy in so kind a
keeper, none sure ever squandered away the fruits of her labour so
indiscreetly as yourself; whoring and gaming I acknowledge are two very
serviceable vices in a common-wealth, because they make money circulate;
but for a woman that has enrich’d herself by the one, to impoverish
herself by the other, is so great a fault, that a harlot deserves
correction for. Some people may think copulation a very easy and
delightful way of getting money, but they are much mistaken, for the
pains, you know as well as myself, which we take to please our
benefactors, destroy our own pleasure, and make it become a toil we are
forc’d to sweat at. Then who, but you, that had acquired such plentiful
possessions by the labour of her bum, and sweat of her brows, would have
tossed away thousands in a night upon the chance of a card, or fate of a
die, as if you believed your honour was an _Indian_ mine, which would
furnish you with gold to eternity for the trouble of digging: but now,
Madam, you find yourself mistaken, for those crows-feet that have laid
hold of the corners of your eyes, and wrinkly age, that in spight of
art, supplies the places of your absent charms, fright away the amorous
and the generous from your experienc’d embraces: besides, women, I hear,
are so plentiful upon earth, that a lady of our quality, must be the
true copy of an angel in appearance, whose favours shall be thought
worth meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths; so that a pretty woman
now a-days may make a slave of her bumfiddle for thirty years together,
and not get money enough to keep her out of an hospital, or an
alms-house at the age of fifty. I, you see, thro’ the whole course of my
life, maintain’d my post, and as I was mistress to a king, liv’d as
great as a duchess to my last minute; and you, like an extravagant
concubine, to game away an estate, in few years, large enough to have
maintain’d a score of younger brothers listed into your ladyship’s
service, who would have drudg’d to oblige you as much as you did to
delight the good old gentleman that gave it to you; fie upon’t, I am
asham’d to think, that a woman who had wit enough to tickle a prince out
of so fine an estate, should at last prove such a fool as to be bubbled
of it by a little spotted ivory and painted paper; if that mouth could
have spoke that had labour’d hard to earn the penny, and miser-like was
always gaping for more riches, sure it would have scolded at your
profuse hands, for flinging away that estate so fast which they had but
a small share in getting of, but indeed it is not fit the silent beard
should know how much it has been abus’d by the other parts of the body,
for if it did, it would be enough to put it into a pouting condition,
and make it open its sluice to the drowning of the low-countries in an
inundation of salt-water. I would advise you, Madam, with the small
remains of your squander’d fortune, to go into a nunnery, turn _Roman
Catholick_, which is the best religion in the universe, (for ladies of
your occupation, grow wonderful pious, and make a virtue of necessity)
and there remain till death, as a living testimony of the truth of the
old proverb, (_viz_) _That what is got over the devil’s back, is spent
under his belly_: which is all the consolation you deserve from your
sister in iniquity,
NELL GWIN.
PEG HUGHES’_s Answer to_ NELL GWIN.
_Madam_,
I am sorry a mistress of a king should degenerate so much from that
generosity which was always applauded as a virtue in us ladies, who,
like the industrious beaver, do our business with our tails; for a woman
of my quality to value money, looks mean and mercenary, and is becoming
no body but an unmerciful miser, or a common strumpet; should I have
plac’d an esteem upon the riches that was left me, the world might have
suppos’d it was for the greediness of gain, that made me yield my
favours; and what had I been better than Madam _James_, or Mrs. _Knight_
of _Drury-lane_; had I expos’d my honour for the lucre of base coin, and
sinned on for the sake only of advantage. Beauty’s the reward of great
actions, and I generously bestow’d mine upon a prince that deserv’d it,
abstractly from the thoughts of interest, but rather to shew my
gratitude, in return of his noble passion for me; and since he had made
me the object of his affections, I resolved thro’ the true principle of
love to surrender the ultimate of my charms to make him happy: my
embraces was all he wanted, and the utmost I could give, and if a prince
would submit to take up with a player, I think on my side there was
honour enough, without interest, to induce me to a compliance. I know I
am old and past recovering an impair’d fortune, after the same manner
that I first got it; but then consider what a small matter is sufficient
to keep a superanuated grannum, past the pleasures of this life; warm
cloathing and a few sugar-sops, what else can an old woman want, that is
fit for nothing but to mumble over her prayers, or sit nodding in a
chimney-corner like an old cat, when her company becomes as nauseous to
all that are younger than herself, as a sober divine is to a prophane
libertine? What conversation need she have besides one maid to exercise
her lungs upon, and keep life’s bellows open? I am so far from repenting
the loss of my estate, that I look upon’t my glory, and the only piece
of carelesness I ever committed worth my boasting. It’s a pleasure to me
to behold the vicissitude of fortune, and see her snatch that out of my
hand, which before she had dropped into my mouth; besides, without a
taste of poverty there can be no true repentance, for I always observe,
affliction goes a great way in making a good christian. I have said my
prayers within these few months, as heartily as ever I neglected ’em,
and am often-times pleas’d I am grown poor, because it makes me the more
pious: every fifty guineas I now lose, makes me when I come home, read a
chapter in _Job_, and take his patience for my own example. The gold
that I thus fling away, puts me in mind how sinfully it was got, and to
that cause I ascribe the badness of my fortune. To be rich and godly, I
have found very difficult, but to be needy and religious, is the easiest
thing in the world, which inclines me to believe poverty and piety, are
as great companions as impudence and ignorance, or love and jealousy; so
that when I have lost all, perhaps I may take care to save myself,
which will be much better, than like you to be damn’d with a full
pocket. It often makes me laugh to see hungry quality, craving
courtiers, as insatiate as the barren womb, how industrious they are to
add to their own estates by the ruin of an old fornicatrix, who can part
with her money as freely at one sport as she got it at another, and
therefore desires you will rest but as quietly under your damnation, as
she does under her losses, and she believes you will find yourself much
easier: So,
_Farewel_.
_From_ HUGH PETERS _to_ DANIEL BURGESS _in_ Rogue-lane.
_Most Reverend Brother in iniquity_,
If you don’t remember of your own knowledge, you can’t but have heard
from some of our grisly historians, that in the late times of confusion,
when the pious scoundrels of _England_ arose with their arses uppermost,
I was not a man inferior in my function to your learned and most
eloquent self, or any other fanatick cackler of the holy law, by the
corruption of which (thro’ the spirit of nonsense, and grace of
blasphemy) our party has always supported the worst of causes in the
best of times; and be it known to you, brother doctor, for so I presume
to greet you, that I had not only the practical knack of moistning the
eyes of my congregation with the dreadful doctrine of predestination,
but could also dry up their tears with a spunge of comfort, and make ’em
laugh as heartily whenever I pleas’d, as a city-audience at a
_Smithfield_-comedy; in which most excellent and renown’d faculties, you
are the only modern chatterist, that I hear has since succeeded me, for
which reason, I am very desirous of corresponding with you after this
manner, till fate shall give us your good company in these territories,
to which (if our subterranean governor changes not his opinion) you need
not doubt of being heartily welcome.
I am sensible news from another world to a man of curiosity, cannot but
be acceptable: I shall therefore proceed to give you some account how
our party (who are very numerous) fare in these sultry dominions,
towards which I hope in a little time, you will set forward on your
journey.
My quondam master _Oliver Cromwell_, of ever famous memory, to whom upon
earth, you must know, I was not only chaplain in ordinary, but as well
jester to his excellency, an honour which I hear most noblemen confer
upon the black robe, now good old house-keeping, and the party-colour’d
coat are quite thrown out of fashion: My master, I say, who in honour to
his _exit_, was fetch’d away out of the upper world in a whirlwind, and
conducted into these parts with all the solemnities of an usurper, was
establish’d in a notable post at his first admittance into _Pluto_’s
court, in which eminent employment (that like a faithful servant
follow’d him) I found him, to my great satisfaction. _Alecto_, one of
the furies, having taken a surfeit with over-flogging _Guido Vaux_
(which is a ceremony perform’d here in publick every fifth of
_November_) for discovering the _Gun-Powder-Treason-Plot_, and defeating
that notable design, which by the indefatigable industry of the most
skilful politicians on this side _Acheron_, was so hopefully projected:
and fearing some disorders should arise in our infernal common-wealth
for want of strict discipline, my old master _Oliver_ was pitch’d on to
be deputy-firker to the sick beldam, and a scorpion-rod was accordingly
presented him, with all the usual ceremonies of so grand an instalment.
This news of his advancement was so terrible a conflict to the cavalier
part, who dreading the severity of his correction, petition’d _Pluto_ to
remove him, but to no purpose; which insolence so inflam’d my cholerick
master, that his nose swell’d as big at the end as an apple-dumpling,
and look’d as fiery red (to the terror of those that came under his
lash) as if his magnificent gigg had been a living salamander, so that
wherever he met with a cavalier, he did so firk and jirk him, that
_Busby_ was never a greater terror to a blockhead, or the _Bridewell_
flog-master to a night-walking strumpet, than he at this day to a
high-flyer or a Jacobite. Great regard has been shewn by his infernal
majesty, to all that in _forty eight_ were members of the high court of
justice; some are made master and wardens of the devil’s mint, for the
coining of new sins; some commissioners of the temptation-office;
others, barons of the diabolical stinkports; and particularly
sollicitor-general _Cook_ is made lord-keeper of hell’s punishments; and
_Bradshaw_ and _Ireton_, two of his imperial smuttiness’s
privy-counsellors: So that all the posts of honour and preferment in
these lower regions are in the hands of our party, hoping those of the
same kidney who live over our heads, enjoy the like advantages, as we
have heard below by a certain courier from _Amsterdam_, you are all
pretty firmly possess’d of.
There lately arriv’d in these parts a certain woolen-draper out of
_Covent-Garden_ parish, who being touch’d with a deep sense of
ingratitude, could not rest quietly in his whigwam, till he had made a
publick confession of a great indignity he had put upon Mrs. _Meg_’s
chaplain, by which he gave us to understand you were the worthy
gentleman he had most sordidly affronted; the manner of which he
declared with as much sorrow and concern for the action, as ever was
beheld in the face of a dying penitent, between the severity of a
halter, and decency of a night-cap, the substance of his report being to
this purpose; after he had fetch’d two or three deep sighs, as loud as
the puffs of a smith’s bellows: alas! says he, to you I speak, good
people, that are here about me, I was bless’d with a wife of such
singular piety in the other world, who rather than not hear that
reverend teacher of the gospel _D. B._ twice every _Sunday_, she would
cackle for a whole week, far worse than an old hen that has drop’d a
benefit to her owner; whilst I, like a true profligate suburbian, us’d
to confound her zeal, stop the current of her devotion, and damn her
hypocrisy; but the good woman was too strict a protestant to be thus
seduc’d, and still persever’d in spight of all restriction in her
accustomary righteousness, till at last I bethought myself the best way
to reclaim her from this disagreeable purity (for so I thought it) and
bring her over, like me her husband, to be a good sociable sinner, was
to keep a close guard over my pocket, and another over my till, well
considering, that if the flock could not live without spiritual
consolation, the shepherd could not spend his lungs without temporal
subsistence: After I had try’d this experiment for about a fortnight
before the time of contribution, when the hearts of the hearers are
usually as open as their teacher’s conscience, I found my wife’s
extraordinary zeal had stirr’d up a tumultuous spirit within her, so
that nothing would pacify her stubborn disposition, but ten times the
price of a fat pig, to gratify the great benefits she had often receiv’d
from her soul-saving physician; but I, looking into the merits of the
cause, and finding other mens wives us’d to be sav’d, (or at least made
believe so) at a much cheaper rate, and therefore for good reasons best
known to myself, would by no means comply with her religious generosity;
upon which the good woman my wife, lest she should be thought an
ungrateful reprobate by her deserving guide, convey’d a present to the
worthy doctor of a whole piece of black cloth, without my knowledge, and
like a true lover of peace and quietness, conjured my apprentice to keep
it secret; but my man’s honesty being equal to my wife’s religion, in a
little time after, he inform’d me of the matter, upon which (forgive me
good people) I waited upon the doctor with a bill, and without any
tenderness to his piety, or regard to his function, gave him such a
tallyman’s dun, that he swore thro’ divinity, and deny’d the matter of
fact as sturdily as if he had been bred a citizen; yet at last, upon
positive proof thereof, paid the money like an honest gentleman, but
huff’d away as if the passion of envy had overcome the patience of the
priest. But since I find (most worthy gentlemen) that fate has doom’d me
to these sulphurous mansions, where the devil rules the roast, and
presbytery flourishes; I here, before the protector of this
commonwealth, and all his infernal host, submit myself to the present
government in hell establish’d, and heartily declare a penitential
sorrow for the indignity offer’d upon earth to that famous and most
spiritual kid-napper, who I cannot but acknowledge has contributed more
toward the peopling of these dominions, than the states of _Holland_
have ever done towards the peopling your neighbouring country the
_East-Indies_.
But now, brother doctor, to make you sensible of the interest you have
in these parts, the audience (notwithstanding the offender’s submission)
were so highly inflam’d that so disgraceful an affront should be put
upon so worthy a benefactor to the _good old cause_, that some cry’d
out with a true spirit of dissention, _Flay, flay the rogue, flay him
for a_ cavalier, _what abuse the Doctor! Others, Scald him, scald him,
he’s a Church Papist: Others, Geld him, geld him, he’s certainly a
Priest_: But the women were against the last sentence, and cry’d the
devil had no law for that severity. So a great hurliburly arose about
the manner of his punishment; but at last the crowd hurry’d him away as
the rabble in your world do a pickpocket, to a pump, or a horse-pond,
and what became of him afterwards I have not yet heard.
We have abundance of souls flock hither daily, that bring us in very
comfortable tidings from _Mincing-lane_, _Salters-hall_,
_Bishopsgate-street_, _Jewen-street_, _Moorfields_, _Bartholomew-close_,
_Fetter-lane_, _Stepney_, _Hackney_, _Bednal-green_, &c. but more
particularly from _Covent-Garden_; among whom, to your credit it be it
spoken, I have always pick’d out the most agreeable conversation: for
you must know, a little before I absented myself from the pleasures of
the upper world, ’twas my fortune to be haul’d before a dozen of damn’d
crabbed _cavaliers_, revengeful fellows, who look’d as if they would
lose a dinner to hang an honest round-head at any time; and as three or
four tun-belly’d lumps of gravity, in blushing formalities, lin’d with
coney-skins, and those twelve unlucky disciples order’d the matter (to
show they were all fire and tow) they told me a dreadful story of
hanging and burning at _Charing-Cross_, in sight of that old palace we
before had plunder’d. About which ugly sort of business, when I came to
find they were in good earnest, I began to grow as, dizzy in my brains,
as a hog troubled with the megrims, and could no more endure the
thoughts on’t than I could of _Popery_; on my dying day, I strove all I
could to make it easy, but I protest it was in vain, for it prov’d still
as hateful to me, as castration to a priest, or barrenness to a young
woman: in short, at last it made me think of nothing but rattling of
chains, and picking of straws, insomuch that when they fagotted up my
thumbs together, and tumbled me into a hell-cart well litter’d with
straw, but the devil a wheel to’t, I did but just shut my eyes, and
fancy’d myself to be in a dark room in _Bedlam_. In this manner they
rumbled me thro’ a long lane of spectators, who star’d at me as if I had
been a _rhinoceros_ with a _Bantam_ queen upon my back; at last they
dragg’d me into an ill-favour’d piece of timber, in the shape of a welch
sign-post, where they tuck’d me up to a beam, and made me keck a little,
as if something had gone the wrong way; upon which I fell into a kind of
a hag-ridden slubber for a quarter of an hour, dreaming I sunk a
thousand leagues into the bowels of the earth, and no sooner awak’d, but
found myself, as I told you before, in company with my old master: my
sleep prov’d much too short for the recovery of my senses, and tho’ I
saw several of my old friends about me, the pain of my neck, and terror
of my fall, made me rave worse than a narrow-scutted punk under the
hands of a mad-midwife; till by the advice of a consult of physicians,
who are here as numerous as _crocodiles_ in the land of _Egypt_; a
vesicatory of devil’s-dung was apply’d to my _costern_, which restor’d
me to my wits in a few minutes, which in the time of adversity, like
ungovernable rebels, had abdicated their master. But that which most
troubled me when I found myself _compos mentis_, was the circular
impression the hempen collar had left about my gullet, by which the
fellow-subjects discover’d I swung into hell the back way, for which
reason some prodigal _jack-a-dandies_ refus’d to keep me company,
despising me as much as a butcher does a bull-dog, that instead of
running fair at the head, catches hold of the tail, and hangs at the
arse of his enemy; for you must know, doctor, the most reputable way of
entring into this sub-terrestial country, is to come in at the
fore-door, thro’ which none are admitted but such as spend their full
time in wickedness in the upper world without flinching: nay be as proud
of a notorious sin, as a jockey is of his riding that has won a
horse-race, and glory more in the invention of a new vice, than a coward
does of a victory, till at last, by the effects of his debaucheries,
pox, gout and rheumatism, he is lifted out of your world into ours,
without one thought of repentance. These are highly rewarded here for
the glorious examples they have left behind them; but he that comes
hither like a dog, with the print of a collar about his neck, is no more
respected than a prophet in his own country; the reason is, because they
who pass gallows-way into these shades, generally at their _exit_, show
a sorrow for their sins; so that if heaven did not take their contrition
for a kind of death-bed repentance the devil would be a great loser;
besides, they soften the hearts of sinners by their sniveling and
howling, and deter others from the like wickedness. These considerations
occasion the tyburnians to be very much slighted by other company: but
I, thro’ good fortune, by that time I had been here a fortnight, met
with a good honest shoemaker, who had cut his throat in a garret in
_Russel-street_, upon the point of _Predestination_, which he had heard
you handling of for three hours together the very same afternoon, before
he could find in his heart to perform the decent execution. Upon serious
examination, I found the fellow talk’d very notably of religion; nay,
much better than he did of a shoe-soal, or an upper-leather; he had such
an assurance of his parts, as to challenge _Bunyan_ the tinker to chop
logick with him; and _Naylor_ the quaker, who was of a principle between
both, was thought the best qualify’d person in all hell for an impartial
moderator; but your nimble chopp’d pupil was as much too cunning for the
_Pilgrim_ author, as a fox is for a badger, that at last the shoemaker
got his ends, and left the poor tinker without one argument in his
budget. By the assistance of this honest cordwainer, (who hearing I had
been a minister of the gospel in the other world, was mighty respectful
to me) I got acquainted with several others, who had been of your
congregation; some old women, who had hang’d themselves in their
garters, thro’ fear the lord had not elected them: others, who had
waited for a call to heaven till their last dram of patience, as well as
their patrimony, were quite exhausted, the first in religious exercises,
and the last in holy offerings to you their teacher; and finding very
little come of either, they resolv’d the king shou’d lose a poor
subject, and yourself a pious communicant; and so by the judicious
application of either knife or halter, convey’d themselves thro’ death
to these infernal shades, which they always liv’d in dread of, but not
finding the climate so terribly hot on this side _Styx_, as you have
often represented it, they rest well satisfy’d in their conditions, and
all heartily present their humble service to you, hoping with myself,
you will always stick close to your old doctrine, and labour hard to
support and infuse into your followers, the true enthusiastick
principles of _Fanaticism_, and you need not question but to wallow in
the pleasures of human life whilst above board, and be doubly damn’d
hereafter among us for the signal services you have done to the sable
protector of these populous territories, which can never want recruits,
whilst there is a _Burgess_ in the upper world, and a _Lucifer_ in the
lower one.
HUGH PETERS.
DANIEL BURGESS’_s Answer to_ HUGH PETERS.
I receiv’d your insolent epistle with no small dissatisfaction, and had
you not inform’d me, I should have guess’d it came from hell, and that
none but the devil, besides yourself, could have digitis’d a pen after
so scurrillous a manner: how I came to be your brother, as you are
pleas’d very sawcily to call me, I can’t tell, for thou wer’t no more
than a meer pulpit merry-andrew, fit only to jest poor ignorant wenches
out of their bodkins and thimbles, and I, _Daniel Burgess_ am known
thro’ all _England_ to be a reverend teacher of the good word the
gospel, and a saver of souls by the means of grace, and the help of
mercy.
’Tis true, I cannot but acknowledge that you were a serviceable agent in
the promotion of the _good old cause_; but when you came to die a martyr
for it, the whimsical fear of damnation so disturb’d your fly-blown
brains, that a dog hang’d by a cleanly housewife for dropping a
sirreverence in a room new wash’d, or a cat condemn’d to the same
punishment for licking up the childrens milk, were never certainly such
a scandal to a halter, as thy frantick self. When like a true teacher of
spiritual dissention, thou should’st have glory’d in all the past
actions of thy life, that had the least tendency to the pulling down of
that papistical government, that whore of _Babylon_, monarchy, and
setting up in its stead, that wholesome and inseparable twins,
presbytery and a commonwealth; you hasten’d on your own damnation by
foolish fear and cowardly repentance, and shew’d fifty times more
distraction than a horn-mad cuckold, that had catch’d his wife playing
at flipflap with her tail like a live flownder in a frying-pan.
As for that woolen jack-a-dandy, that fed his family by the product of a
sheeps-back, that unrighteous tell-tail rogue, that us’d to curse his
wife for being godly, if ever you will do me a piece of good service in
your damnable country, I beg you to entreat _Lucifer_ on my behalf, to
freeze him once a day into a cake of ice, and then thaw him without
mercy, in one of his hottest hell-kettles; or let him be flogg’d three
times a day by your old master, worse than _Titus Oates_, or brother
_Johnson_, for he’s as rank a cavalier as ever had the impudence to spit
in a round-head’s face, or speak treason against the rump-parliament;
and tell him, tho’ he made me pay for the cloth, given me as a just
reward of my pastoral care of his wife’s immortality, yet she had the
christian gratitude, to make me doubly amends before a fortnight was
expir’d; but how the donor came by the benefit she bestow’d, I thought
was a little ungrateful for the receiver to enquire into, and unbecoming
a minister of the word, bearing my figure and character.
As for the sorry wretches you mention, who by the virtue and efficacy of
my doctrine, took a by-path into the other world, that happen’d to lead
’em into your territories: I must tell you, they were such a parcel of
scoundrels, whose diminutive souls I look’d upon to be meer trumpery,
damag’d goods, not worthy their freight, fit for nothing but to be
thrown over-board; poor tatter’d scraps of immortality crouded into
skins, each of less value than a hog’s-pudding. _Lucifer_ himself, I’m
sure, should he wage new war with heaven, would not have given
three-pence a-piece to have lifted them into his service, they would not
have been fit for so much as powder-monkeys, to have handed fire and
brimstone after the army; for my part, I wonder now you have got ’em,
how you bestow ’em, or what use the devil can put ’em to; I protest when
they were living upon earth, I found them such needy communicants, I
thought them fitter to be confin’d within the narrow limits of some old
alms-house for subsistance, there to read and practise Mr. _Tryon_’s
water-gruel directory, and enjoy the charitable income of
three-half-pence a day, settled by some old rogue who had cheated the
world of thousands, and hopes to make an atonement by starving perhaps
twenty old women every year in his little row of charity pigeon-holes,
endow’d with nine-pence _per_ week, and a thimbleful of coals; as if
providing a miserable life for one person, was a sufficient recompence
for cheating another: I say, they were fitter to be made close tenants
to some such bountiful nest of drawers, than to come like a parcel of
thread-bare zealots into a meeting, like bullies into a tavern, without
a penny of money in their pockets, and disturb people of good fashion
and credit, zealous benefactors to their guide, in the height of their
devotion, an intolerable grievance to a pious congregation, that pay
well for the assurance of salvation: and if we did not sometimes by the
frightful doctrine of _non-election_ and _damnation_, make these
ragamuffin reprobates take up the knife of dispair, and clear the garden
of the righteous from those rascally poor weeds who are always sucking
juice from the more valuable plants, in a little time the fruitful soil
would be so over-run with docks and nettles, that there would be no
living for the gardner, whose profits must arise from the products of
those trees laden with rich fruit, which for yielding plentifully in due
season, become more worthy of his care.
This is the case, and therefore who can blame me for my doctrine, if it
should be a means of making two or three garetteers, and as many
cellar-divers, by the help of twisted-hemp, or cold iron, forward their
journies to the lord knows whither, the world has the less to provide
for, and those that are gone have, according to the opinion of our
fore-fathers, nothing to care for? So to tell you the truth on’t, I am
never without a score of such communicants to spare, and if they were
all to be with you before night, I should think it a very comfortable
riddance.
I am sorry I have not so much time to abuse you as I could heartily wish
I had, for you cannot but be sensible how much you have deserv’d it, and
how well qualified I am for such an undertaking, if I had but leisure to
exert my talent; and why we of the same function should treat one
another scurvily, would be no wonder, because two of a trade can never
agree; however I shall reserve my fury till another opportunity, being
just now invited to a supper by a devout communicant, whose husband’s in
the country, and I am sure she will have provided something worth my
nibbling at, which I scorn to lose the benefit of for a piece of
revenge: so farewel,
D. BURGESS.
LUDLOW _the_ Regicide _to the_ Calves-Head Club.
_Most diabolical Sons of Darkness_,
Of all the villainies perpetrated upon earth, that the greatest rebel
could be proud of, or _Lucifer_ blush at, I myself hid so large a share
in, that the devil for my hearty sincerity, and trusty management
therein, gives me the right-hand, dignify’d and distinguish’d me with
the superb title of his elder brother: no man ever gloried more in
wickedness than myself, and that which now makes my punishment a
pleasure, is to think how nobly I deserved it. Many I know are the
treasonable plots and contrivances transacted in the upper world, but
never was any magnificent piece of wickedness, or superlative deed of
devilism, ever performed with more ostentation and alacrity, than that
most impious and audacious act, in which I was so highly concerned, and
that the very monarch of hell might have been proud to have had a hand
in; to fire churches, commit sacrilege, ravish virgins, murder infants,
or spit in the faces of our parents, are trifling sins that a man of my
figure in iniquity would be asham’d to be caught in; but to murder the
best of princes, and glory in the deed, is such an infernal evil that
hell can’t blacken, or earth can’t parallel; a sacred piece of villany
becoming only the treachery of a puritan to execute, and the pen and
principles of a _Tutchin_ to endeavour to justify.
_Lucifer_ and all his kingdom of hob-gobblins, drink a health to your
society every thirtieth of _January_, in burnt brandy, and are well
assur’d the interest of these infernal territories can never sink, as
long as there is a _Calves-Head Club_ upon earth, to glory in the
remembrance of the worst of villianies; and a whiggish society of
reformation, for the better establishment of hypocrisy. We, who had the
honour to be his majesty’s judges, or rather as some call us,
_Regicides_, are all mess’d together in an apartment by ourselves, and
the murderers of _Henry_ III. and _Henry_ IV. of _France_ are appointed
to attend us at our table; and Felton that stabb’d the duke of
_Buckingham_, is our lacquey to run of errands.
In all _Lucifer_’s extensive dominions, there is not one society so much
respected as ourselves, and the greatest villains that ever were upon
earth, are by the devil, when they come here, scarce thought wicked
enough to wait upon us in the most servile station; the very jesuits
themselves known by all the world to value royal blood no more than a
_Jew_ does a hog’s-pudding, are not suffer’d to walk within an hundred
yards of us; nay, the very dissenting shepherds of that rebellious
flock, who always follow’d me as their only bell-weather, are not here
thought worthy of our conversation, only now and then a member of our
sanctify’d society the _Calves-Head Club_, drops headlong in among us,
and _Old Nic_ indeed appoints them to grind mustard and scrape horse
radish for us his well-beloved brethren the _Regicides_; for you must
know ’tis the custom in this sweating climate, for people to deal much
in very hot sauces, and that most delicate palate-scorching soop called
pepper-pot, a kind of devil’s broth much eat in the _West-Indies_, is
always the first dish brought to our table.
All hell applauds you mightily for your zeal and integrity for the _good
old cause_, and your cordial approbation of the great effects thereof,
which you annually show upon every thirtieth of _January_ that
derisionary festival, which you keep like the bold sons of confusion,
that the true spirit of rebellion may never die, and the dreadful
consequences of a damnable reformation may never be forgotten, in which
most notable, audacious and courageous piece of insolence, you not only
declare yourselves the brave defenders of all king-killing principles,
but plainly discover your undaunted souls are ready upon all occasions
of the like nature, to solemnly engage in the most startling mischief
that hell’s most politick _Divan_ are willing to contrive, or a body of
the most resolute infidels in the universe able to perpetrate? this do I
speak to your eternal reputation, that _Lucifer_ and all his sable
legions have publickly acknowledged their pride and malice, are much
out-done by your private assembly, and the expertest devils among all
the infernal host, turn pale with envy, and degenerate from their
blackness to see their impudence outbrazen’d by a club of mortal
puritans? so that I would advise you as a friend, when death, by virtue
of his uncontroulable _Habeas Corpus_, shall remove you to these dusky
confines, you will put on a little modesty, tho’ you play the hypocrite,
least if you behave yourselves here as you do in the upper world, you
shall dash the devil out of countenance.
_So farewel._
_An Answer by the_ Calves-Head Club, _to_ LUDLOW _the_ Regicide.
_Most Noble Colonel_,
We receiv’d your letter, wherein your hatred to kings is discernable in
your stile; you scorn, like ourselves, the flattery of a courtier, and
write to your friends in the rough language of a bold soldier, that did
not only dare to uncrown, but to unhead a monarch, to advance the
authority of the good people of _England_ above sovereign domination,
and free them from the bridle of the laws, which are no more in our
opinion than a politick restraint upon their natural freedom, an act
worthy of so indefatigable a patriot, who would leave no stone unturn’d,
that the wrong side of every thing might be rais’d uppermost, and that
those who had long against their wills been brought under a compulsive
subjection, might once have an opportunity of trampling upon that
ambition to which they were once slaves, and of raising up their
groveling snouts above that aspiring head, which for many ages had
oppress’d millions of mankind by the dint of power eclips’d their native
liberty, and crushed them into a slavish obedience.
What ass in the universe would not kick at his master, if he was sure he
could knock his head off, and shake off that burthen beneath which he
groans, if he was not such a coward to be fearful of a greater?
Rebellion is always sanctifyed if it succeeds well, and the end
propos’d, obtain’d with safety, always gives glory to the atchievement.
Authority is only obey’d, because ’tis fear’d; and if once trodden under
foot, nothing appears so despicable, as he that mounts a resty steed is
counted a good horseman, if he tames the beast; but if the stubborn
courser throws his rider, he falls a laughing stock to the glad
spectators.
You seem to be truly sensible how much we glory in that act, which ought
to be as much your pride, as it is our satisfaction: we reverence the
valiant arm that did the deed, and daily signalize our gratitude to the
pious memory of those illustrious heroes, who by their undaunted
magnanimity brought their unparallell’d undertakings to a hopeful issue,
and left behind them such a glorious example, which we shall never
neglect to imitate when ourselves have opportunity. We have long hoped
for the lucky minute, wherein we might shew the world the strength of
our resolutions, and the constancy of our principles, and make those
cowardly slaves know, who pretend an abhorrence to your past bravery,
that we are the cocks, when we dare crow, that will make the lion
tremble; we have at all times when we meet, an ax hung up in our
club-room, in _pia memoria_ of your sacred action: but had we the true
weapon, as much as we hate popery, we should turn idolaters, and worship
it much more than _Roman Catholicks_ do their pictures. We have every
thirtieth of _January_ a _calves-head feast_, in contempt of that head
which fell a glorious sacrifice to your justice, over which we drink to
the pious memory of _Oliver Cromwell_; confusion to monarchy; to the
downfal of episcopacy; a health to every noble regicide, and to the
universal propagation of all king-killing principles; and if these are
not meritorious formalities, and decent observances, we know not how to
oblige our honest brethren, who are co-habitants with you at such a
distance beneath us.
To be accounted rebels and bold villains, does not in any measure make
us uneasy; for the believing ourselves otherwise, is a compleat
satisfaction to ballance their envy that so think us; besides the
pleasure we find in accounting them fools, slaves and cowards, is really
more to us than a sufficient recompence: so that by our vilifying our
opposites, we deny them opportunity ever to be even with us. The author
of the dialogue between _Vassal_ and _Freeman_, is our secretary; you
guess’d his name very right in your letter, and a notable fellow he is
either in verse or prose, for the justification of our principles; and
is such a desperate tongue-stabbing hero at _pro_ and _con_, that he
clears the house of all people wherever he comes, but those of his own
kidney; he vindicates all the proceedings of the _High Court of
Justice_, with such admirable obstinacy and impudence, that the best
lawyer in _Westminster-hall_ is not able to cope with him, and justifies
the bringing of a king to a scaffold, when the people dislike his
stewardship, with so much insolence and arrogance, and drags him to a
block, as you would a bear to a stake, with so much decency, that had he
liv’d in the happy days when you erected a _High Court of Justice_, he
would have been the fittest man in the universe for two posts under you;
_First_, To have been attorney-general, and then executioner, and would,
I am confident, have so strenuously exerted himself in both offices,
that he would have gained a double reputation with our godly party.
_First_, For the discharge of the one with the utmost malignancy. And,
_Secondly_, For the dispatch of the other without disguise; for I dare
be confident, he has assurance enough to go through-stitch with any
thing that the world calls villainy, if we but think it virtue without
the fear of shame, or dread of punishment: indeed, had our growing
principles at this day but such another champion to defend ’em, I do not
question but in a few years we might bring matters to bear, and by
downright dint of our own weapon, _calumny_, make way to play the old
game over again, to a far better purpose than has been yet effected.
With the great hopes of which we take leave at present, desiring your
brother _Lucifer_ upon all occasions to lend us his assistance. So we
subscribe ourselves both his and your
_Humble Servants_,
J.T. S.B. J.S. _&c._
_From_ J. NAYLOR, _to his_ Friends _at the_ Bull _and_ Mouth.
_Friends and Brethren in the Spirit_,
You who are the true transcript of the people originally call’d
_Quakers_, may perhaps expect, that I _James Naylor_ in the dark, should
commend my hearty love to you my friends in the light, in such like
manner as the spirit us’d to dictate to me upon earth, before I
unhappily fell under this wonderful transfiguration, which I now am
appointed to maintain thro’ the whole course of eternity.
I had no sooner set footing into this deep abyss of midnight, to which
the sun, moon and stars are as great strangers, as frost and snow are to
the country of _Ethiopia_, but a parcel of black spiritual janizaries
saluted me as intimately as if I had been resident in these parts during
the term of an apprenticeship; at last up comes a swindging lusty,
over-grown, austre devil, arm’d with an ugly weapon like a country dung
fork, looking as sharp about the eyes as a _Woodstreet_ officer, and
seem’d to deport himself after such a manner, that discovered he had an
ascendency over the rest of the immortal negroes, and, as I imagin’d, so
’twas quickly evident; for as soon as he espied me leering between the
diminutive slabbering-bib, and the extensive brims of my cony-wool
umbrella, he chucks me under the chin with his ugly toad-colour’d paw,
that stunk as bad of brimstone as a card-match new lighted, crying, How
now, honest _James_, I am glad to see thee on this side the river
_Styx_, prithee hold up thy beard, and don’t be asham’d, thou art not
the first quaker by many thousands that has sworn allegiance to my
government; besides, thou hast been one of my best benefactors upon
earth, and now thou shalt see like a grateful devil, I’ll reward thee
accordingly: I thank your excellency kindly, said I, pray what is it
your infernal protectorship will be pleas’d to confer upon me? To which
his mighty ugliness reply’d, friend _Naylor_, I know thou hast been very
industrious to make many people fools in the upper world, which has
highly conduc’d to my interest. Then turning to a pigmy aërial, who
attended his commands as a running footman; haste, _Numps_, says he,
and fetch me the painted coat, which was no sooner brought, but, by
_Lucifer_’s command, I was shov’d into it neck and shoulders, by half a
dozen smutty _valets de chambre_, and in a minute’s time found my self
trick’d up in a rainbow-colour’d coat, like a merry-andrew. Now, friend,
says the ill-favour’d prince of all the hell-born scoundrels, for the
many fools you have made above, I now ordain you mine below; so all the
reward, truly, of my great services, was to be made _Lucifer_’s jester,
or fool in ordinary to the devil: a pretty post, thought I, for a man of
my principles, that from a quaker in the other world, I should be
metamorphosed into a jack-adams in the lower one. I could not but think
it a strange kind of mutation, and knew no more how to behave myself in
my gaudy-colour’d robes, than if I had been damn’d, and cramm’d into a
tortoise-shell, and must have walk’d about hell upon all fours with a
house upon my back.
In a little time after this new dignity was conferr’d upon me, the devil
happen’d to make a splendid entertainment for all the souls in his
dominion, who in the upper world had been profess’d Quakers, where I,
quoth the fool, was ordered to give my attendance for the diversion of
the company, but found myself so strangely disappointed when I beheld
the guests, that had I been messed in _Noah_’s ark among lyons, bears,
and alligators, I could not have been more amaz’d than I was at the
unexpected appearance and deportment of such a confus’d assembly: my
master _Lucifer_, and _Ramsey_ the jesuit at his right hand, sat at the
upper end of the table, and the rest of the scrambling company were
seated like so many hungry mechanicks at a corporation-feast; but
instead of their conversation being _Yea_ and _Nay_, there never was
heard such swearing and cursing at a publick gaming-table, nor all the
points of copulation more lewdly discuss’d at a bawdy-house; blasphemy
was the modestest of their talk, and there I came in with ’em for a
fool’s share, and exerted my talent to the approbation and applause of
the whole society.
Observing such a wonderful change in these our infernal friends, from
what they appeared to be in the upper world, made my curiosity itch
mightily to know the reason of this surprising alteration; upon which,
said I, prithee _Lucifer_, in plain words, (for we fools you must know
may say any thing to our masters) what is the meaning that these people
who were _quondam_ quakers when upon _terra firma_, should turn such
debauch’d libertines in these lower regions, and from the most religious
and precise of all hypocritical heaven-servers, to become the most
degenerate reprobates in all your damnable dominions? I’ll tell you,
says _Lucifer_, the reason; always those that pretended to the greatest
purity in the other world, put on the cloak of religion, not to save
their souls but to hide their vices, as some women wear masks, not to
preserve their beauty, but to hide their ugliness; and when that veil is
taken away which obscur’d the sinfulness of their natures, or when
opportunity gives them leave to be wicked without damage to their
interest (as they may here) you see how loose and wanton the most
zealous of both sexes will be, notwithstanding all the external promises
of piety and vertue. These words, tho’ they came from the father of
lies, yet their satirical force gave me such a stab in the conscience,
that had my label of mortality been stung by a wasp or a hornet, it
could not have griev’d the outward man more, than this diabolical saying
did the inward; and knowing by experience it savour’d of a little truth,
I thought I could do no more than communicate his answer to you my
friends, who are lovers of verity, from whence you may discern with half
an eye, that _Satan_ understands you as well as he does the college of
_Jesuits_, or a _Dutch_ conventicle, and if you take not timely care,
will certainly prove too cunning for you.
Perhaps you will think me a very imperfect intelligencer, to tell you of
a feast, and give you no account of the provisions, or what sort food
the devil in his sultry dominions entertains his friends withal;
therefore in the next place I shall venture to give you a bill of fare,
that you may know at present what you may expect hereafter, lest
otherwise I should leave your curiosities unsatisfied, and keep you
ignorant of those avernous dainties by which immortality is here
subsisted.
The first course consisted of a huge platterful of scorpions
spits-cock’d, a fricassee of young salamanders, a bailiff’s rump
roasted, baisted with its own dung, and a cock phœnix scalded in his
feathers, smother’d with melted soap and boil’d arsnick; these were
gross, substantial meats, design’d chiefly for keen appetites. The
second course contain’d six dozen of _West-India_ gwanas roasted in
their own shells, a dish of squab-hickaries poach’d, a brace of flying
dragons stew’d in their own blood, and a dish of shovel-nos’d sharks
fry’d with a leviathan in the middle, toss’d up with what’s as good for
a sow as a pancake; these were dainties that could not but be acceptable
to the most squeamish stomachs; but now for rarities that must please
the gust of an emperor. The third and last course consisted of such
spiritual nutriment, that the nicest palated soul on this side the
adamantine gates, without a surfeit, might subsist on to all eternity,
which was serv’d up to the table, in much greater order than any of the
foregoing part of the entertainment. In the first place, a dish of
metaphysical curds, swimming in the cream of eloquence, was brought to
the upper end of the table, by a devil in a long gown, upon which piece
of cookery _Lucifer_ and the _Jesuit_ fed very heartily. In the next
place a dish of pickl’d enthusiasms well pepper’d with obstinancy, and
cover’d with the vinegar of dissention, was handed to the board by a
meagre-fac’d devil in a little band and long cloak, which by abundance
of the company was highly approv’d on. The third dish was a mess of
melancholy humdrums, mix’d with sobs and sighs, and garnish’d round with
blasphemy and nonsense, serv’d up with a she devil in _querpo-hood_ and
green apron, which the whole assembly in general commended, and devour’d
as greedily as a gang of _Welsh_ drovers would do a mess of
leek-porridge, or a dish of cows bubby. When every soul had fed
plentifully, and refresh’d his immortality with a chearful dose of
spirit of sulphur, I, quoth the fool, for the jest’s sake, was appointed
to say grace after meat; and when I had discharg’d the office of a
chaplain, as comical as I could, the guests stagger’d away like so many
fluster’d long tails from a _Kentish_ feast, and so the solemnity was
ended.
I have little more news to communicate from these parts, only that
within these few months, we have had five or six thousand diabolical
spirits, return’d from their embassies in the upper world, who were many
years since commanded thither by prince _Lucifer_, to the assistance and
further establishment of our party and opinion, and had every one of
them possess’d themselves of good quarters, and lay snug in the bosoms
of our sanctified friends, but reported when they came back, that an old
trout-back apostate, who lately fell from quakerism to the church,
arming himself cap-a-pee with the armour of truth, took up the sword of
the gospel, and by downright dint of scripture and sound reason, made so
large a conquest over _Satan_’s subjects, that the devils were forc’d to
quit their possessions, and leave great numbers of our friends to the
mercy of G----d and their ecclesiastical enemies; but fresh recruits
are daily sent among you from these infernal territories, hoping in a
little time to recover our lost interest.
I would have troubled you a little further, but that _Lucifer_ being put
in a merry mood by the pleasing news of your _European Differences_, has
order’d all his jesters to be in waiting, and you know, all princes upon
publick rejoycings at court, must have their fools as well as knaves, to
attend ’em: so farewel.
J. NAYLOR.
_The_ Quakers _Answer to_ JAMES NAYLOR.
_James Naylor_,
Thy friends are all very much afflicted to hear that _Satan_ the father
of the wicked, has laid violent hands upon thee, and has drawn thee out
of the light into the land of utter darkness; if the dross of the world,
that ungodly mammon, which tempts the unwary often into the sins of the
flesh and many other iniquities, would redeem thee from thy woful
prison, where nothing is to be heard but weeping, wailing and gnashing
of teeth, we would lend thee our assistance with all our hearts; but the
spirit within us has declar’d the truth, and told us, that thy
unmerciful jaylor will take no bribe or bail, and that the debt thou art
in for, the world cannot pay, and therefore we all fear thou art
trapann’d into a loathsome gaol from whence there is no redemption. We
thought the many persecutions thou underwent’st for the l--d’s sake in
this world, (_viz._) as peeping thro’ the yoak of infamy, and losing thy
two members of attention. _Secondly_, for hugging the vagabonds
land-mark against the will of the spirit, and undergoing the rod of
correction. And, _Thirdly_, for suffering the clack of the spirit to be
bored thro’ with a hot wimble, for warranting thyself to be the true son
of thy father, would have been merits sufficient to have rais’d thee
upon the pinnacle of mount _Sion_, and there to have fixed thee as a
standing evidence of the truth to all eternity; but since the spirit
within thee prov’d a lying spirit, that extinguished the light, and led
thee like a blind guide into the dark ways of destruction; we that were
the followers of thy false glimmerings, must forsake the errors, and
seek the lord by a more perfect illumination, for the false fading
_jack-a-lanthorn_ which thou leftest among us, is burn’d into the
socket, and now stinks in the nostrils of the righteous, far worse than
the dying snuff of a cotton-candle; besides, what spiritual pilgrim in
his progress to the land of the living, would follow a wicked
_Will-with-a-wisp_, who has led a friend before into dark ways, and
there left him to grope among the filthiness of sin and pricks of
conscience to all eternity? no, if we follow thy ways, we shall err like
stray’d sheep, and be pounded by _Satan_ for wand’ring into the paths of
the wicked.
That the father of lies, upon thy first entrance into his wicked
habitation, should put thee into a fool’s jacket, we do not much wonder,
for the painted marks of folly are _Satan’s_ gay livery, with which he
cloaths his wicked servants in this world as well as in his dominions;
for didst thou ever behold on earth the sons of darkness, who follow the
lust of the flesh, and delight in those pomps and vanities which the
inward man forbids our frail natures to pursue, but they always were
distinguish’d by some gaudy badge, which discovered their pride, or
other infirmities? do not the high-priests of _Baal_ wear lawn
coversluts, and their head journeymen red pokes upon their backs? do not
flatterers of princes wear badges on their breasts, and adorn their
spindle-shanks with glittering gimcracks? do not their lazy slaves wear
blue and yellow, that the world may know whose fools they are? do not
the blessers of their food wear silken ornaments dangling from their
proud necks to their ancles, that the publick may mistake them to be
wiser than their neighbours? do not the captains of the host hoop their
loins with golden sashes, and stick feathers in their caps to fright
their foes with their finery? do not judges wear gowns of a crimson die,
and the great men of the law wear the skull-caps of knavery, with the
edges tipp’d with innocence, to deceive the vulgar? do not physicians
ride in coaches with the weapons of destruction ty’d dangling at their
arses, as it they were hurrying on a full trot to kill and not recover
their patients? do not haughty vintners hypocritically tye on their blue
ensigns of humility, to cozen their customers into an opinion of their
lowliness? do not whoremongers and adulterers thatch their empty noddles
with whole thickets of whores-hair? and do not wanton women wear turrets
on their heads, and cover their tails with the bowels of the silk-worms?
do not drunkards wear red noses, knaves hawks eyes, and liars impudent
faces? in short, friend _Naylor_, most people upon earth have some badge
or other of _Satan_’s livery; even kings themselves wear purple, and the
whores of _Babylon_ scarlet; therefore our friends are all of one
opinion, that since thou departed’st so far from the light, as to suffer
wicked _Satan_ to decoy thee into his trapsoul of eternal darkness, he
has done thee but justice to put thee into a fool’s coat, that every
time thou art thoughtful of thy miserable confinement, thou may’st look
upon thy party-coloured livery, and cry with a pitiful voice, alas, what
a fool am I! which is all the comfort thy friends who are sorrowful for
thy condition, are able to administer unto thee at this immensurable
distance.
We are very glad to here that _Satan_ is no niggard in his family, but
like a generous host, provides so plentiful a table for his numerous
guests: we thy Friends upon earth, have taken his infernal food into our
serious consideration, and have resolv’d, _nemine contradicente_, to
lead a starving life upon earth, rather than enter his palace-gate to be
beholden to him for a dinner. We shew’d thy bill of fare to our friend
_Roberts_, at the _White hart_ in _Chancery-lane_, approv’d by the
wicked men of the law, who love to profane their stomachs with fine
feeding, to be as nice a gratifier of luxurious palates as ever handled
ladle; and he declareth for truth, by the motion of the spirit, that
tho’ he has often roasted a cod’s-head larded with bacon without tying
it upon the spit, boil’d a pound of butter stuff’d with anchovies
without melting it, grilliado’d jelly of harts-horn without dissolving
it, fry’d a jackboot into incomparable tripe, stew’d pebble-stones till
they have become as soft as stew’d prunes, and has made good savoury
sauce with an addled egg and kitchin-stuff, yet he acknowledges himself
wholly ignorant how to dress any one dish thou hast mentioned in the
catalogue of thy dainties, and therefore desires thou wilt do him the
friendly kindness to acquaint us in the next letter, what sort of cook
_Satan_ has got in his kitchin; and if he be a friend, whether thou
think’st our friend _Coquus_’s wife mayn’t be admitted as his scullion,
in case she would become a servant in thy master’s family, for she is
grown so peevish, he is willing to part with her. So hoping thou wilt
give us an account the next opportunity, we rest thy, _Loving Friends_.
From LILLY to COOLEY the _Almanack-maker_ in Baldwin’s-Gardens.
_My dear old bottle-friend and companion_,
_Ever since I took a trip into this lower world, and left you (by the
help of Moon-groaping and Star-fumbling) to project almanacks, predict
prodigies, and conjure up lost spoons, stoln good, and stray’d cattle, I
have had no opportunity of paying my respects to you, till now, for ’tis
so abominably up hill from our world to yours, that none but the devil
himself is able to climb it, he being forced to creep upon all-four,
like a squirrel up a nut-tree, all the way of his journey; and had I
sent a letter by his cloven-footed worship, I was fearful you would not
have thought him, at your years, a proper messenger. I hear, since I
left you, you are grown as grey as a badger, and that you are approv’d
by all cook-maids, porters-wives and basket-women, to be the most
eminent bodkin and thimble-hunter of all the_ Ptolemeans _in the town,
and by the help of the twelve heavenly houses and their seven twinkling
inhabitants, not only undertake, but make wonderful discoveries.
Flat-caps and blue-aprons, I hear haunt your door every morning, as
hawkers do a publisher’s, or journeymen-taylors a_ Smithfield _cook’s at
noon, some for a sixpenny, and some a twelvepenny slice of your
Astrological judgment, of which, to show your honesty to the world, you
give them such lumping pennyworths, that you have made the noble
science of Heaven-peeping as cheap to the publick, as boil’d tripe in_
Fee-lane, _or bak’d sheeps-head in your own element_ Baldwin’s-gardens.
_I am joyful to hear you are grown so great a proficient in the
celestial gimcracks; but indeed, when I first knew you a joyner at_
Oxford, _that us’d to make cedar cases for close-stool pans, I thought
you as ingenious a mechanick in your way, as he that invented a
mouse-trap or a nut-cracker, but little thought then, you would have
laid down the plane and the hand-saw, of which you were an absolute
master, to take up_ Albumazar’_s weapons, the celestial globe and
compasses, to which you were a mere stranger: but however, Astrology
being a kind of liberal science all men I know are free to dive into the
mystery, from the whimsey headed scholar, to the strolling tinker;
therefore your leather-apron and glue-pot are no disparagement to your
pursuit of the seven wandring informers, any more than it is a scandal
to a mountebank to be first a fool, and then a travelling physician_.
Gadbury _we know was no more than a country botcher, before he was
admitted as a tenant into the twelve houses; and_ Partridge _was no more
than a_ London _cobler, before he was made running footman to the seven
planets; yet both these students in Astrology have arriv’d, I hear, to
as great an eminency in their heavenly profession, as ever was acquired
by the famed Dr._ Saffold, _or his successor_ Case, _by long study and
experience, in the noble arts of Poetry and Physick. Therefore why may
not that spurious issue of a Carpenter call’d a Joiner, make as
legitimate an Astrologer, as profound a Conjurer, as infallible a
Fortune-teller, as the best of them; nay better, if he knows but to use
his tongue like a smoothing-plane, and can take down the roughness of
some peoples incredulity, then may he work them as he does his
deal-boards, till he has glu’d or nail’d them fast to his own interest.
These are the talents for which I hear you are famous above other
Astrologers, and that by downright dint of craft, pout and banter, you
have wheedled more money in your time out of chamber-maids,
cook-wenches, old bawds, midwives, nurses, and young strumpets, than
ever was got by the rug and leather, luck in a bag, or that in most
excellent juggle on the cards, call’d_ preaching the parson: _nay if all
the gains that you have made of these three profitable inventions were
to be join’d together; besides a whole mustard-pot full of
broad-pieces, a drudging-box full of guineas, a meal-tub full of crowns
and half crowns, and an old powdering-tub full of shillings and
sixpences, which lie parcel’d up in your own house, I hear that you have
several hundreds of pounds in the_ Stationers _company, which, besides
the interest of the money, entitles you every year to four good dinners
in the hall, as many noddles full of rare claret, and four pockets full
of venison-pasty for your female deputy, who is said to be a notable
understrapper to you in the business of Astrology, and is of as much
service to you as a second to a merry-andrew, for without the one, the
other could do nothing_.
_I cannot but highly approve of the method I observe in your almanacks,
for since you write every year four_, i. e. _three in other persons
names, and one in your own, you have wisely projected a way to be
infallibly right in your predictions of the weather, which are commonly
varied under no more than four several denominations in any one of the
four seasons; so that by making your prognostications in every almanack
different, one must certainly tell right, and by keeping all four in
your pocket, which I am inform’d you have cunning enough to take care
of, by plucking out that which you know is agreeable and falls right,
declaring yourself to be the author, you gain reputation, and by this
juggle make some fools in your company believe that you have the stars
at more command, than a Haberdasher of dead bodies has his linkmen at a
funeral. This piece of cunning none of the celestial fraternity can
justly blame you for, every artist well knowing a juggler and an
astrologer are as inseperable companions as a bawd and a midwife, or a
lawyer and a knave, for either without the other, like an adjective
without a substantive, would be unable to stand by himself._
_Of all the almanacks that are extant, none are so valuable in these
subterranean regions as your own; few hawkers travel into these parts
but they bring whole baskets full along with them, and the cry of_
Cooley’_s almanack for two months in the year, is as universally bawl’d
about hell’s metropolis, as mackrel among you when they come to be six a
groat, or_ Chichester _lobsters when they stink at midsummer. Of all
the_ almanacks _brought among us, prince_ Lucifer _gives yours the
preference and never goes without one in his pocket, to put him in mind
of an_ Holy Rood _day, that his devilship may not lose his nutting
time. Your last_ English merlin _but one, wanted of the four cardinal
points, for which piece of forgetfulness, the devil in a great rage
cry’d he ow’d you a shame, and I was since inform’d, that one of our
infernal plenipotentiaries upon earth discharg’d his master’s promise in
a short time after, at the_ Darby _alehouse in_ Fulwood’s _rents; by the
same token, the liquor had so eclips’d your distinguishing faculties,
that instead of a tankard of warm ale, that stood by you, you took hold
of the candlestick, and in a drinking posture convey’d the lighted
candle to your mouth, the taste of which was so intolerable to your
lips, that you flung it away in a great passion, believing ’twas the
tankard of drink, and swore the bitch of a wench had made it so scalding
hot there was no drinking it. This unhappy accident occasion’d some
ill-natur’d people to reflect on you, and say, how should you know a
star from a kite-lanthorn, that could not distinguish between a tankard
of warm ale and a lighted candle?_
_I have no news from these parts that can be welcome to a man of your
gravity and profession. As for astrologers, they are no more regarded in
this kingdom, than an honest man in your world, or a modest woman in a
theatre, for the best employment that most of them aspire to here, is to
carry a closestool-pan upon their back after a quack-doctor, which
savory receptacle being put in a square case, makes our fraternity look
like so many raree-show men loaded with their boxes of dancing baubles._
_I must confess, doctor_ Saffold, _that famous student in physick,
poetry and astrology, whose verse was as good an emetick, as his pills
were a purge, being_ Lucifer’_s peculiar favourite, was advanc’d to the
dignity of being flea catcher to his royal consort; but the other day
had like to have lost his place, by chasing one of his lady’s little
enemies into her_ mount of Venus, _and beating the bush to start the
game, was so wonderfully pleas’d at the pastime, that the old fool could
not forbear laughing, which ill manners so inflam’d the infernal
duchess, that she vow’d, except he would down on his knees and kiss what
he laugh’d at, she would never forgive him; upon which the poor doctor
was forc’d to join beards, or else would have been turned out, to his
eternal shame as well as misery_.
Albumazar _and_ Ptolomy _are set up like the two loggerheads at St._
Dunstan’_s church, and once in an hundred years they strike upon an huge
bell the number of the centuries from the fall of_ Lucifer, _that the
devils and the damn’d may know how eternity passes; for you must
imagine, as a quarter of an hour is to the time of your world, so is an
hundred years to the eternity of ours, every watch goes here at least
ten thousand years with but one winding up, for their movements, like
our form and substance, are all spiritual, and the worst artist we have
among us, your_ Fleetstreet Tompion _is but a mere blacksmith to; as for
my own part, I trudg’d for the first six months after Dr._ Ponteus,
_with a steeple-crown’d conveniency, as I mentioned before, but having
always such a stink of_ devil’s-dung _in my nostrils, I petitioned for a
remove, and was admitted to be a yeoman of the bason to_ Lucifer’_s
cloven-hoofs, to pick, wash, and refresh them after his return from
earth, which he visits very often for the preservation of his interest
in the upper world; and the worst inconveniency I find is, that his
worship’s feet smell worse after much walking than a sweating negro’s_.
_But, however, my old friend, let not this discourse discourage you from
venturing to come among us, or frighten you into a repentance of your
frauds and subtilties, that may carry you another way; for a man of your
merits, learn’d in Astrology from the very nose of the_ great bear, _to
the extreme point of the_ dragon’s tail, _and skilful in the
Mathematicks, from the mensuration of a surface to the most profound
nicety in solid Geometry, need not question, but that your old
acquaintance and assistant_ Satan, _who has faithfully stood by you upon
all occasions, will bestow some reputable post upon you, answerable to
the gravity and skill of so understanding a wiseacre, to whom I
subscribe my self a loving friend and brother_ Philomat.
LILLY.
COOLEY’_s Answer to_ LILLY.
_SIR_,
_I would have you to know, I am not so far in my dotage, but I have
reason enough left plainly to discern I am very much affronted in your
ironical letter: as for my part, Mr. mean it as you please, I take it in
good earnest, for it is not consistent with my temper and gravity at
these years, to like such unmannerly jesting. Time was, I was a young
fellow, that would have scolded with a butter-whore, box’d a carman, or
have scribled scurrilously with any_ Lilly _in the universe; but, alas!
when a man has liv’d in this world to the age of near seventy, and has
had familiar conversation with all the foolish women in the town,
puzzled his brains with more angles, circles, squares, pentagons,
hexagons, heptagons, and parallellopipedons_, &c. _than ever has been
yet found in that most famous introduction to the mathematicks, call’d_
Euclid’s Gimcracks, _pour’d as much_ Derby _ale thro’ his guts every
year as would have fill’d the great fatt at_ Heidelburg, _and
metamorphosed as much tobacco into smoak every month, as would have put
a whole county into a mist; I think ’tis high time for a man to have
done with discord, and begin to compose himself into a little harmony;
therefore I take it ill you should attack me in my old age, especially
when you have Hell on your side, and the devil and all to help you_.
_What, tho’ I was a joiner at_ Oxford, _and once to shew myself a good
workman, made a cedar close-stool case for the dean of_ Christ-Church,
_I question not but one time or other for the excellency of its work, it
will be carried into the library, and be there preserv’d as a monument
of its maker’s glory to all succeeding ages, when you will have no
remains to put the world in mind of you, but your old conjuring
countenance, painted upon a sign, and hung up over_ Black-friers
_gateway, subscribed with a little paultry poetry, fit for no body’s
reading but a parcel of country hobbies, who have left the plow and the
flayl, to come up to_ London _to be cozen’d out of the fruits of their
labour. It is well known, I was born and educated in a learned air, and
tho’ a man be bred a cobler in that climate, he cannot help being a
scholar, if he but furnish’d with as much brains as will fill a
cockleshell. I confess, I have not had the honour to be entered of a
college, yet by my own chamber-study, without a tutor, having a good
natural genius, I could tell you how many parts of speech there were, by
that time I was eighteen years of age; and I will appeal to the world,
who may judge by my conversation, whether I have not made a wonderful
advancement within these 50 years, insomuch that you may see I dare
write_ Philomath, _in the very title page of my almanack; and
therefore, Mr. am not to be banter’d at these years. You have the
confidence, in several parts of your letter to call me conjurer, tho’ I
must tell you, Mr. by the way, you are the first person that ever
thought me so. ’Tis true, I do sometimes when I am well paid for it,
erect a scheme in search of lost goods, or stray’d cattle, and do
presume_ secundum artem, _to send the querent east, west, north, or
south, a mile or two distance from the loser’s house, to search within
six doors of the sign of the four-footed beast, and if they cannot find
the thief one way, I can send them as far another for a new fee; and all
this I can justify by the rules of Astrology as well as any man; but
must an artist for this be called a conjurer, and by a person too who
has been a professor of the same science? Indeed, old acquaintance, I
take it very unkindly, because you yourself must needs know we are
honest men that deserve no such character. As for my mistaking the
lighted candle for a tankard of hot ale, I remember nothing of the
matter; but_ Bacchus _tho’ he be no planet, yet all men know he has a
great ascendency over us mortals, and what he might influence me to do,
when the light of reason, by which we see to distinguish, was eclipsed,
I know not; but I am morally sure, when my senses are about me I am not
easily to be so deceived; for I presume to know a pig from a dog, or the
difference between a Thing and cartwheel, as well as_ Ptolomy _himself
were he now living_.
_You say, to my reputation, that my almanacks sell beyond any body’s in
your subterranean country, and that_ Lucifer _himself is never without
one in his pocket: I am very glad to hear he is so much my friend, as to
give mine the preference, and for his civility intend to send him one
next year well gilt on the back, and bound up in calves-leather, by the
hand of some friend or other, that shall swim in_ Derby _ale to the very
gates of his palace; such a wet soul that shall be as welcome as a
shower of rain to your drowthy dominions. The pleasing news you have
sent me is, that my works are so vendible in your parts, for I assure
you, upon your intelligence, I shall raise the price of my copy the next
year; for if my almanacks sell as well in hell as they do upon earth, I
am sure the company of_ Stationers _must get the devil and all by them.
So I rest yours between enmity and friendship._
H. COOLEY.
_From_ TONY LEE _to_ CAVE UNDERHILL.
_Brother_ Cave,
Considering how often you have jested in the grave to please _Betterton_
prince of _Denmark_, I wonder the grave by this day has not been in
earnest with you, that in process of time, when the churchyard vermin
have feasted themselves upon your cadaver, your own scull may become a
jest to some other grave-digger. I must confess when I left you, you
were a sociable sort of a drunkard, and pretty little peddling sort of a
whoremaster, but I hear since, you have droop’d within a few years into
such a dispirited condition, that ’tis as much as a plentiful dose of
the best canary can do to remove the hyppocon for a few minutes, that
you may entertain your friends with a little of your comick humour,
grac’d with that agreeable smile that has always rendered what you say
delightful, and that it is not in the subtile power of intoxicating
_Nantz_ to add new life to that decay’d member, which has in a manner
taken leave of this world before the rest of your body; you have so
often been used to a grave in your life-time, that I think you never
wanted a _memento mori_ to put you in mind of mortality: death sure can
be no surprize to a merry mortal, who has so often jested with him upon
the stage, and and I long to hear when the grinning skeleton shall shake
you by the hand, and say, _Come, old duke_ Trinculo, _thy last sands are
running, thy ultimate moment is at hand, and the worms are gaping for
thee_. What a jocular answer you will make to the thin-jaw’d
executioner, for every comedian ought to die with a jest in his mouth to
preserve his memory, for if he makes not the audience laugh as he goes
off the stage, he forfeits his character, and his fame dies with his
body; therefore I would advise you to set your wits on work to prepare
yourself, that as you have always liv’d by repeating other peoples wit,
you may not make your exit like a fool, but show you have some remains
of your own juvenile sparklings to oblige the world with at your last
minute.
I hear the effects of your debaucheries are tumbled into your pedestals,
and make you walk with as much deliberation as Mr. _Cant_ preaches;
when a man is once so founder’d by the iniquity of his life, that his
full speed is no faster than a snail’s gallop, and that his memory and
his members both equally fail him, it is full time that he was travell’d
to his journey’s end; for with what comfort can a man live in the world
when it is grown weary of him? young men I know look upon you as
superannuated, and had rather see a death’s-head and an hour-glass in
their company, than see you make wry faces at your rheumatick twitches,
or hear you banter upon your old gouty pains, and the past causes
thereof between jest and earnest. When a man once comes to answer a
bawdy question over the bottle silently, that is, with a feign’d simper
and a shake of the head, no body cares a fart for him, he is good for
nothing at those years, but, like _Solomon_’s proverbs, to let young men
foresee that worldly pleasures, when they come to be old, are but
_vanity and vexation of spirit_; and to stir up young women to despise
the impotency of old age, which their fumbling fathers in vain admonish
them to reverence. A young comedian is apt to make every body his jest;
but when arriv’d at your years, himself becomes a jest to every body.
Youth gives an air to wit that renders it delightful, but for an old man
to pretend to talk wisely, is like a musician’s endeavouring to fumble
out a fine sonata upon a wind-broach, tho’ the time be good, the
instrument is imperfect, and the organs want that sound which should
give a grace to the harmony. Some men at sixty, are apt to flatter
themselves in publick under the imbecilities of nature, and will
boastingly say, they can do every thing as well as they could at thirty;
but experienced women, who are the best judges of human decay, are too
sensible of their error, and, if modesty would give ’em leave, could
easily demonstrate the difference. I thank my stars, I knew not by
experience the winter of old age, but made my exit in the beginning of
my autumn; but yet I found what nature at midsummer esteem’d a pleasure,
was even then become a drudgery; and what used to be a refreshment to
life, was found but a slavish exercise to the body; therefore I heartily
pity your impotent condition, who has near twenty years surviv’d your
grand climateric, till thou art forc’d to crawl about the world with a
load of diseas’d flesh upon thy back, and art no less than a
sumpter-horse to thy own infirmities. Methinks I see thee creeping upon
the surface of the earth, upon a feeble pair of gouty supporters, thy
loins swath’d up in flannel, leaning upon a crutch-head cane, and
bending towards thy mother earth, who catches thee at every stumble,
sometimes reflecting on the past pleasures of human life, and sometimes
looking forward with imperfect eyes, towards the doubtful state of
immortality, grinning as you walk at the gaiety of youth, and snarling
in thy thoughts at those delights the weakness of thy age has put thee
past enjoying; pursuing only that pleasure, which tho’ thy youth made
vicious, is in age become thy support; that is, the bottle, which in thy
younger days was oft made nauseous by excess; but wise experience now
has taught thee sure to make the darling comfortable by a seasonable
moderation: methinks I see thee use it now with caution, as if you hop’d
by every glass you drank, to strengthen nature’s union, and keep your
soul and body still from separation.
The ghost of a comedian in these shades is but an useless piece of
immortality, for all the entertainments upon the stages of our infernal
theatres are very tragical, no smile, no merry looks, or monky gestures
us’d by your merry-andrews upon earth to provoke your listning audience
to a laughter, are fashionable in these parts. If you intend to come
among us, you must learn to howl, to grin, and gnash your teeth, unless
you can make yourself so compleat a philosopher as to laugh at your own
misery. Horror, darkness, and despair o’erspread the whole dominion, and
our tyrannical prince is never better pleas’d than when he sees his
subjects the most miserable. As for my part, as merry a representative
of some foolish plebeian as I was in the upper world, I cannot in these
melancholy grottos for the heart of me, frame so much as one chearful
conceit to mitigate those torments, which by virtue of our diabolical
laws are perpetually inflicted upon me: therefore those who betake
themselves to these regions ought to arm themselves with abundance of
resolution; for whoever flinches beneath their pains, do but encrease
their punishment, for which reason I advise you to consider what you
have to trust to, if your journey be downwards; and if you find it in
your power, to divert your coming hither with prayers and tears to
heaven, or else I must tell you in good earnest, you may jest on as I
did, till you die and be damn’d like your humble servant,
ANTHONY LEE.
CAVE UNDERHILL’_s Answer to_ TONY LEE.
_Honest Friend_ Tony,
When I first read your letter, as merry as the world thinks me, I was
struck with such a terrible tremulation, that it was as much as three
gulps of my brandy-bottle could do to put my chill’d blood into its
regular motion; I had no sooner recover’d myself, but thinking of death
and the devil, which I had scarce done in sixty years before, I fell
into such an extravagant fit of praying, that if any body had heard me,
they would sooner have guess’d me, by the length of my devotion, to have
been a _Presbyterian_ parson than duke _Trinculo_ the comedian; it was
the first time that ever I found myself in earnest in my life, and I was
suddenly sensible of so vast a difference betwixt that and jesting, that
I believe for a whole hour together I was chang’d from an old comical
merry-andrew, into a new sorrowful penitent and was I to con over your
letter but once in a day, I believe it would go near to fright me into
abundance of religion, which we players, you are sensible, seldom or
never think on, except we are put in mind on’t by some extraordinary
accident; and the main reason I believe why we are not over-burthen’d
with zeal, is our drolling upon the clergy, by representing Mr.
_Spintext_ the preacher, or Mr. _Lovelady_ the chaplain, after a
ridiculous manner for the loose audience to laugh at; which we repeat so
often, till at last we are apt to fancy religion as well as the teachers
of it, to be really no more than what we make them, that is, a meer
jest, and worthy only to be smil’d at and not to be listen’d to.
Certainly you have a very good intelligence in your world, of the
circumstances of us who dwell above you, or else you are the devil of a
guesser, for you seem in your letter, to have as true a sense of my
condition as if you were an eye-witness of it; for to tell you the truth
on it, I find all the members of my body in such a fumbling condition,
that I begin to think of a leap in the dark, and to wonder what in a
little time will become of me; the people are still pleas’d to see me
crawl upon the stage; indeed the shuffling pace that age and decay hath
brought me to, makes the audience as merry as if it were a counterfeit
gesture to provoke laughter; but, i’faith, brother _Tony_, that which
makes them glad makes me sad, insomuch, that my heart has aked every
time these five years, when I have play’d the sexton in _Hamlet_, for
fear when I am once got into the grave, the grim tyrant should give me a
turn over the perch, and keep me there for jesting with mortality.
Nature, which finds herself declining in me, is so greedy of new breath,
that I gape as I crawl for the benefit of the fresh air, as if I was
jaw-fallen, and those humming insects that are a pestiferous calamity
this hot weather to all cooks-shops and sugar-bakers, are so unmannerly,
that they fly over those few palisadoes of my breathing-hole that are
left, and dung t’other side the pails, as if they took my mouth for a
house of office; nay, sometimes in creeping along the length of a
street, I have had my tongue so fly-blown, that had I not gone into a
tavern and wash’d them off with a pint of canary, I don’t know, but my
whole head might have been as full of maggots in a little time, as a
sheep’s arse at _Midsummer_.
I find the greatest curse of my old age is, my desire surviving my
capacity, for I protest, my inclinations are as youthful as ever, tho’
my ability is quite superannuated.
I am just now entring into a fit of the gout, which so terrifies me,
that I pray one half minute, and curse the other, like a true bred
seaman in a storm, therefore am forc’d to break off, blood and wounds,
abruptly.
_So farewel_,
CAVE UNDERHILL.
_From Alderman_ BLACKWELL _to Sir_ CHARLES DUNCOMBE.
Hearing what a noisy reputation you have acquir’d within the walls of
_England_’s metropolis, and what a popular rumble your politick
generosity makes over the heads of us, out of whose ruins you have, true
citizen like, erected your own welfare, I could no longer forbear
putting you in mind of some of your former managements, left some
rakehelly rhime-tagger or other, should flatter you to believe you have
honesty and integrity enough to qualify you for a bishop; I took you a
meer bumkin, and taught you your trade for a basket of turky-eggs, and
therefore it highly concerns your prudence to consider the obligation
you lie under of carrying yourself to the world with all humility, tho’
aspir’d to the very pinnacle of prosperity, since the first cause of
your advancement dropp’d out of the fundament of a turkey: the eggs, as
an argument of their being new laid, I remember were besmeared with
excrementitious tokens of good luck, which make me fancy, when I
received them, they were beshitten omens of your future fortune, in
whose behalf they were presented me.
Birds have often shew’d their tenderness and compassion to mankind:
eagles have preserv’d infants in their nests, who have afterwards become
singularly prosperous in the ages they have liv’d in. _Sappho_ rais’d
himself to the reputation of a God among the _Persians_ by parrots, and
yourself to the grandeur of an alderman by your mother’s hen turkies:
for in all wonderful effects the leading cause ought to be reverenc’d
and respected.
Nothing conduces more to the rise and riches of a citizen, than these
three qualifications; nor can a man be a compleat trader without them:
_First_, To be a hypocrite undiscernably: _Secondly_, A knave, and not
mistrusted: And _Thirdly_, To be diligent in all matters that concern
his own interest. These profitable talents I must needs confess you are
absolute master of, and managed them with that admirable cunning, that I
always conceiv’d a different opinion of you, till I had given it
irrevocably into your power to feather your own nest, by compleating of
my ruin; and like a true politician (I thank you) you made an excellent
use of the lucky opportunity: for when the vicissitude of fortune had
put my affairs in a little disorder, and I thought it best for the
safety of my person to take foreign sanctuary, what friendly protections
did you make, from the teeth outwards, of the faithful service you
would do me in my absence, in order to compose and settle matters after
such a manner, that all the difficulties should be remov’d and made
easy, that had lessen’d my credit, and occasion’d me to withdraw? Upon
which, I being too forward to believe a person, I had rais’d from
sheep-skin breeches, and leathern shoe-ties, to the substance and
reputation of a topping citizen, could never forget the obligation he
lay under to do me justice, as to prove treacherous to his master,
trusted you alone with my whole effects, and the sole power of managing
my affairs according to your own discretion: but you, like a faithful
steward, when my back was turn’d, instead of endeavouring to support my
declining reputation, lessen’d my circumstances to my creditors far
beneath their real estimate, till you had bought up my notes to the sum
of a hundred thousand pounds, for an eighth part of their value, on your
own behalf, with the ready specie I had left you to compound my matters;
and like an honest man return’d them upon me at their full contents,
cheating my creditors of seven parts in eight of their due, sinking the
money to yourself, and leaving, like an ungrateful wretch, the kindest
of all masters to die a beggar; in this, I say, you shew’d yourself a
compleat citizen: _First_, A hypocrite in dissembling friendship to me:
_Secondly_, A knave, in cheating me and my creditors; And _Thirdly_, An
industrious man, in diligently converting so fair an opportunity so
foully to your own interest.
Upon this basis (when downright knavery, according to the city phrase
was term’d outwitting) you rais’d a popular esteem to yourself for being
a wealthy man, and a cunning one, and as I have since heard, daily
improv’d your riches as honestly as you got it; and by changing broad
money into less, made your sums the larger: a pretty sort of a paradox,
that a man by diminution should raise an increase: but the deed was
darker than the saying, yet both very intelligible to money’d citizens
in the age you live in. It is no great wonder, if rightly consider’d,
that a man of your dealing should acquire such vast riches, since you
were so well belov’d by your under agents, that scarce a sessions pass
for seven years together, but one or other was hanged for the
propagation of your interest, whilst yourself stood secure behind a
bulwark of full bags, that skreen’d your person from the law, and your
reputation from the danger of common slander.
Another fortunate opportunity you had of heaping more muck upon your
fertile possessions, and manuring those mighty sums you had before
collected, was the misfortunes of your prince, which largely contributed
(as you honestly order’d the matter) to your further prosperity.
Fourscore thousand pounds more added to your preceeding stock, was,
indeed, enough to make a reasonable man contented; but as nothing less
than the conquest of the whole world could satisfy the ambition of
_Alexander_; so nothing, I am apt to think, but the riches of the
universe, can quench the unbounded avarice of so aspiring a _Crœsus_.
But oh the disappointments that attend the proud and wealthy! what
signifies three hundred thousand pounds to an ambitious alderman, if he
cannot take a peaceable nod in his elbow-chair of state, and be
registered in the city-annals, lord-mayor of _London_, that posterity
may read _Duncombe_ and his turkies were as much renowned in the age
they liv’d in, as _Whittington_ and his cat? I am heartily sorry (since
fortune’s favours, and your own indefatigable knavery, have so happily
concurr’d to make you rich) that the electors of the city would not also
agree to make you honourable; and that your oracle of time, that publick
monument of your generosity, with your promise of a mansion-house for
the city-magistrate, and the twelve apostles to be elevated at the
east-end of St. _Paul_’s, will not all prevail upon the livery-men of
_London_ to chuse you into the trust and dignity, which would very
highly become a person of your worth, honour, and integrity. But, as I
well remember, one of the eggs was rotten, which I have since reflected
on, and think it reasonable to judge, if there be any divination by
eggs, that it predicted your hopes would be addled in this very affair;
and do therefore advise you for the future, to decline all thoughts of
the mayoralty. I am very well pleas’d that you deal barefac’d to the
world in one particular, which is, that tho’ you keep a chaplain in your
house to feed your ears with a few minc’d instructions, yet you
entertain two mistresses publickly in your family, to reduce the
rebellious flesh into an orderly subjection; from whence your neighbours
may see, in matters of religion you are no hypocrite, but openly do
that which more secret sinners would be asham’d to be caught in, who
perhaps are full as wicked, tho’ they hide their vices with a sanctify’d
coverslut, whilst you professing not much religion, scorn to make so ill
a use as a cloak, of that little you are bless’d with.
I fear you are grown too bulky in estate to be long-liv’d in prosperity,
you are a well-fed fish to be caught nibbling at the bait, and abundance
of great men are angling for you; if you are once hamper’d by the hook,
you will not shake yourself off easily: and methinks it’s pity a man
that, I have some reason to say, has got an estate knavishly, should
ever run the hazard of losing it foolishly; but preserve it according to
the custom of the city, to build an alms-house after your decease, that
may maintain about the thousandth part of as many people when he is
dead, as he has cheated when he was living.
_So farewel_,
BLACKWELL.
_The Answer to Alderman_ BLACKWELL.
_SIR_,
Who would ever be a servant, if it were not for the hopes of being at
one time or other as good a man as his master? It’s the thoughts of
bettering our own conditions without danger, that makes a man submit
with patience to a servile subjection: but he that can govern his
master, will never truly obey him; and he that finds he can outwit him,
will be no longer his fool. Nature made us freemen alike, and gave us
the whole world to seek our fortunes in; and he that by either wit,
strength or industry, can straddle over the back of another, has the
riding him for his pains. If one man that is poor, worms a rich man out
of his estate, it is but changing condition with one another, and the
world in general is not a jot the worse for it: besides, in most mens
opinions, he best deserves an estate that has cunning enough to get one,
and wit enough to keep it when he has got it. I know no injustice but
what is punishable by the laws of the land; and if I can acquire an
estate, tho’ fifty men starve for it, that the laws will protect me in,
I think myself as rightfully possess’d as any man in the kingdom: he
that is bubbled out of an estate will certainly fall under the character
of a fool; and he that gets one will be as surely suspected for a knave;
no man enjoys the reputation of an honest man, but he who bribes the
world by courtesies into that opinion of him; and he who, like myself,
scorns to be at the charge of purchasing on’t, shall be sure never to
enjoy the character. Honesty and courage may be said to stand upon one
bottom, for all men would derogate from both, and be knaves and cowards
if they durst; for its the fear of being piss’d upon by every body, that
makes men fight soberly; and the fear of punishment that makes men live
honestly; yet a politick coward often passes for a brave man for want of
being try’d; and an arrant knave, for want of opportunity for a very
honest fellow.
You blame me for building my own welfare out of your ruin, and charge me
with knavery for taking the advantage of your folly; I am of that old
opinion, that all mankind are either fools or knaves; and it is a maxim
in my politicks, that he who will not be a knave, the world will make a
fool of him. One man’s oversight is always another’s gain. How then can
you condemn me for laying hold of that opportunity, which your weakness
gave me as a tryal of my wit? and had I neglected making a true use of
it to my own advantage, I had made myself a greater fool than he who
trusted a single man’s honesty with so large a temptation. Could you
have kept your estate in your own power, how great was your indiscretion
to deliver it into mine? and since I found, when I had it in my custody,
I could secure it to myself, beyond the power of the law to recover it,
how foolish shou’d I have been to have omitted the opportunity? in
short, I am very well satisfyed at the usage I gave you, no check of
conscience do I yet find that inclines me to repentance; but am heartily
resolv’d, thro’ the course of my life, never to let slip so luscious an
advantage.
As for my sorting of broad-money for the royal snippers, it was grown so
universal a practice among all dealers, that it ceas’d from being
thought criminal, and became a profitable trade; and I never was so
lazy in my life, as to suffer any project to be on foot, wherein money
was to be got, but I always had a hand in’t. The _Hollanders_ clipp’d it
openly in their shops, and pass’d it afterwards among us. And shall we
suffer a foreign nation to ingross that advantage to themselves, which
was doubtless rather the property of a true-born _Englishman_ to enjoy?
no I am a true lover of my country, and do assert, it’s better to be
rogues among our selves, and cozen one another, than it is to be cheated
in our own way by a pack of knavish neighbours.
As for my master king _James_, I dealt honestly by him as long as he
continued my customer; but truly when his credit was sunk, and he was
forc’d to take sanctuary in a foreign country, my conscience told me
’twas the safest way, even to serve my prince as I had done you my
master; for indeed, I could not reasonably think; providence flung so
many lucky hits in a man’s way for him to make no use of; besides, what
signifies cozening a king of a trifling sum of fourscore thousand pound,
when he was going into a country where every body knew he would be well
provided for? I consider’d it would do me more kindness by half; and
tho’ some of his friends blam’d me, yet I thought myself an honester man
by much, than those who stripp’d him of his sovereignty; for if it was a
sin to cheat him at all, then those who cheated him most were doubtless
the most wicked; and to deal with you like an old friend, without
dissimulation, as long as I can imagine there’s a man upon earth more
sinful than myself I have a conscience that can fling nothing in my
face, but what I can withstand boldly without blushing.
You seem to highly reflect upon me for keeping two domestick
conveniences publickly in my family, as if a man of my grandeur should
abridge himself of those pleasures which every apprentice-boy has the
enjoyment of between the mistress and the maid, without stirring over
the threshold; and sure an Alderman in the city, a grave magistrate, a
man worth three hundred thousand pounds, need not be either afraid or
asham’d of being suspected guilty of that little sniveling sin practis’d
daily in every citizen’s house, from the very beds in the garret, down
to the stools in the kitchen. Why, at that rate you would muzzle ones
appetite, a man had better by half be a presbyterian parson, and have
two or three pair of holy sisters to smuggle over every week, than to be
an alderman of the city of _London_, and have his carnal inclinations
priest-ridden with a curb-bridle.
As for the fair promises I made to the city in order to have coaks’d
them to have chose me mayor, I design’d them only as alluring baits to
tempt the godly party over to my interest, and in the common hall it
took very good effect; but had I once got into the chair, I should have
shew’d them a trick like Sir _Timber Temple_, and have reduc’d my
mountain-promise into a mole-hill performance; which our cunning
fraternity mistrusting (for always set a knave to catch a knave) by a
piece of unpracticable subtilty they threw me out, when I thought myself
as cock-sure of the honour as a man is of a morsel he has got in his
mouth: but the city is so corrupted, that an honest church-man can put
no confidence in a parcel of knavish fanaticks, but he is sure to be
deceiv’d. Had the church party been strong enough to have brought me in,
I had then caught what I gap’d for, as sure as there’s a cuckhold in
_Guild-Hall_ in the time of election: but knowing our court of wiseakers
was at that time under the ascendency of a whiggish planet, I was
fearful I should lose it; but they had better have chose me, for I
assure them, I would sooner go into _Barbary_ and feed ostriches with my
money, than I would lay out one groat towards so much as the repairing
of one of their old gates, or in adding any thing to the city’s
magnificence, tho’ ’twas no more than a weather-cock: nay I have now so
little charity for that ingrateful _Sodom_, that I would not be at the
expence of giving them an engine, tho I was sure ’twould save them a
second conflagration.
I fear, Sir, by this time I have quite tired your patience, and shall
therefore conclude with this acknowledgment, that I liv’d under one of
the best princes in the world, and one of the best masters in the
kingdom, and that under both, I thank my stars, I have patch’d up a
pretty good fortune, and I profess, as I am a christian of the true
church by law establish’d, I would turn subject to the _Grand Seignior_,
and servant to alderman _Lucifer_, to enjoy again two such precious
opportunities. _So I rest, with a quiet Conscience, your thankful
Servant_,
CHARLES DUNCOMBE.
_From_ HENRY PURCEL _to Dr._ BLOW.
_Dear Friend_,
To tell you the truth, I send you this letter on purpose to undeceive
you; I know that the upper world has a notion, that these infernal
shades are destitute of all harmony, and delight in nothing but jarring,
discord, and confusion; upon the word of a musician, you are all
mistaken, for I never came into a merrier country, since I knew a whimsy
from a fiddle-stick; every body here sings as naturally as a
nightingale, and at least as sweet. Lovers sit perch’d upon bows by
pairs, like murmuring turtles in a rural grove, and in amorous ditties
sing forth their passionate affections; all people on this side the
adamantine gates have their organs perfect, and _I burn, I burn, I
burn_, which some persons thought a critical song upon earth, is here
sung by every scoundrel: the whole infernal territory is infested with
such innumerable crowds of poets and musicians, that a man can’t stir
twice his length, but he shall tread upon a new ballad; and as for
musick, ’tis so plenty amongst us, that a fellow shall be scraping upon
a fiddle at every garret-window, and another tinkling a spinet, or a
virginal, in every chimney-corner; flutes, hautboys and trumpets are so
perpetually tooting, that all the year round the whole dominion is like
a _Bartholomew-Fair_; and as for drums, you have a set of them under
every devil’s window, rattling and thumping like a consort of his
majesty’s rat-tat-too’s at an _English_ wedding: we have such a glut of
all sorts of performers, that our very ears are surfeited; and any body
may hire a consort for a day, large enough to surround
_Westminster-Abbey_, for the price of an hundred of chesnuts; yet every
minstrel performs to admiration. Every cobler here that dispatches a
voluntary whilst he’s waxing his thread, shall out-sing Mr. _Abel_, and
a carpenter shall make better musick upon an empty cupboard strung with
five brass-wires, than _Baptist_ can upon the harpsichord; every trumpet
that attends a botkin lottery, sounds better than _Shore_; and not a
porter here plies at the corner of a street, but with his stubbed
fingers, can make a smooth table out grunt the harmony of a double
curtel. We have catches too in admirable perfection: Fish-women sit and
sing them at market, instead of scolding as they do at _Billingsgate_;
hymns and anthems are as frequent among us as among you of the upper
world; for to every church God Almighty has on earth, here the devil has
a chapel.
You are sensible I was a great lover of musick before I departed my
temporal life, but now I am so surfeited with incessant sound, that I
would rather chuse to be as deaf as an adder, than be plagu’d with the
best _ayre_ that ever _Corelli_ made, or the finest _sola_ or _sonata_
that ever was compos’d in _Italy_: for you must know the laws of this
country are such, that every man, for sins in the other world, shall
here be punish’d with excess of that which he there esteem’d most
pleasant and delightful. Lovers, that in your region would hang, or
drown, or run thro’ fire like a couple of salamanders for one another’s
company, are here coupled together like the twins _Castor_ and _Pollux_,
pursuant to their own wishes upon earth, and have all the liberty they
can desire with one another, but must never be separated whilst eternity
endures. This sort of confinement, tho’ ’tis what they once coveted,
makes them so sick of one another in a little time, that they cry out, O
damnable slavery! O diabolical matrimony! and are always drawing two
several ways with all imaginable hatred, endeavouring, to break their
fetters, and pursue variety; thus every one is wedded to what they like
best, and yet every person’s desires teminate in their own misery, which
sufficiently shews there is no other justice to punish us for our
follies, than the objects of our own loose appetites and inclinations;
for that which we are apt to covet most when we are in the upper world,
generally, if obtain’d, proves our greatest unhappiness; therefore,
since experience would not teach us to bridle our inclinations on the
other side the grave, the pleasures we pursued when we were living, are,
after death, appointed to be our punishments.
Dr. _Stag----s_, is greatly improved since he arrived in these parts,
and has more crotches flow thro’ his brains in one minute, than he can
digest into musick in a whole week; he had not been here a month, but
his bandylegs stepp’d into a very good place, and his business is to
compose _Scotch_ tunes for _Lucifer_’s bag-piper. Honest _Tom Farmer_
has taken such an antipathy against musick, upon hearing a _French_
barber play _Banister_’s ground in _Bmi_, upon a jews-trump, that he
swears that the hooping of a tub, and filing of a saw, makes the
sweetest harmony in christendom; _Robin Smith_, is still as love-mad as
ever he was; hangs half a dozen fiddles at his girdle, as the fellow
does coney-skins, and scours up and down hell, crying a _Reevs_, a
_Reevs_, as is the devil was in him. Poor _Val Redding_ too, is quite
tired with his lyre-way-fiddle, and has betaken himself to be a
merry-andrew to a _Dutch_ mountebank; and the reason he gave for it was
this, That he was got into a country where he found fools were more
respected than fiddlers. Dancing-masters are also as numerous in every
street, as posts in _Cheapside_, there is no walking but we must stumble
upon them; they are held here but in very slight esteem, for the gentry
call them leg-livers, and the mob from their mighty number, and their
nimbleness, call them the devil’s grass-hoppers. Players run up and down
muttering of old speeches, like so many madmen in their own soliloquies;
and if any beau wants a bridge to bear him over a dirty channel, a
player lies down instead of a plank, for him to walk over upon; the
reason why they were doom’d to that piece of scandalous servitude, was,
because they were as proud upon the stage as the very princes they
represented; and as humble in a brandy-shop, as a scold in a
ducking-stool; therefore were fit for nothing when they had done
playing, but to be trampled upon. I have nothing further at present to
impart to you, so begging you to excuse this trouble, _I rest_,
_Your Humble Servant_,
HENRY PURCEL.
_Dr._ BLOW’_s Answer to_ HENRY PURCEL.
_Dear Friend_,
Your letter was one of the greatest surprises to me, I ever met with;
for after giving credit to that fulsome piece of flattery, stuck up by
some of your friends upon a pillar behind the organ, which you once were
master of, I remain’d satisfi’d you were gone to that happy place, where
your own harmony could only be exceeded, and had left order with some of
your friends to put up that epitaph only as a direction where your
acquaintance upon occasion might be sure to meet with you; but since you
have favour’d me with a letter from your own hand, wherein you assure me
’twas your fortune to travel a quite contrary road, I will always be of
opinion for the future, that when a man takes a step in the dark, those
that he leaves behind him can no more guess where he is gone, than I can
tell what’s become of the saddle which _Balaam_ rid upon when his ass
spoke; for I find just as people please or displease us in this world,
we accordingly assign them a place of happiness or unhappiness in the
next, virtue shall be rewarded, and vice punished hereafter, ’tis true,
but when or how, I believe every man knows as well as the pope;
therefore, many people have blam’d the inscription of your marble, and
think it a presumption in the pen-man to be so very positive in matters,
which the wisest of mankind, without death, can come to no true
knowledge of. The fanaticks especially are very highly offended at it,
and say, It looks as if a man could toot himself to heaven upon the
whore of _Babylon_’s bag-pipes, and that religion consists only in the
true setting of a catch, or composing of a madrigal. I have had many a
bitter squabble with them in defence of your epitaph, upon which they
scoffingly advis’d me to get Monsieur _d’Urfey_ to tag it with rhime,
then myself to garnish it with a tune, and so make it a catch in
imitation of _Under this stone lies Gabriel John_, &c. which unlucky
saying, so dum-founded me, that I was forc’d silently to submit, because
you had serv’d another person’s epitaph after the same manner.
I have no novelties to entertain you with relating to either the _Abbey_
or St. _Paul_’s, for both the choirs continue just as wicked as they
were when you left them; some of them daily come reeking hot out of the
bawdy-house into the church; and others stagger out of a tavern to
afternoon prayers, and hick up over a little of the _Litany_, and so
back again. Old _Claret-face_ beats time still upon his cushion
stoutly, and sits growling under his purple canopy, a hearty
old-fashion’d base that deafens all about him. Beau _Bushy-whig_
preserves his voice to a miracle, charmes all the ladies over against
him with his handsome face; and all over head with his singing. Parson
_Punch_ make a very good shift still, and lyricks over his part in an
anthem very handsomly. So much for the church, and now for the
play-houses, which are grown so abominably wicked since the pious
society have undertook to reform them, that not a member of the
fraternity will sit down to his dinner, till he has repeated over a
catalogue of curses upon the crew of sin-sucking hypocrites, as long as
a presbyterian grace, then falls to with a good appetite, and damns them
as heartily after dinner; nor will they bring a play upon the stage,
unless larded with half a dozen of luscious bawdy songs in contempt of
the reforming authority, some writ by Mr. _C_---- and set by your friend
Dr. _B_----; others writ by Mr. _D_----, and set by your friend Mr.
_E_----: you know men of our profession hang between the church and the
play-house, as _Mahomet_’s tomb does between the two load-stones, and
must equally incline to both, because by both we are equally supported.
Religion is grown a stalking-horse to every bodies interest, and every
man chuses to be of that faith which he finds to be most profitable. Our
parochial-churches this hot weather are but indifferently fill’d, but
our cathedrals are still crowded as they us’d to be, because to one that
comes thither truly to serve God, fifty come purely to hear the musick;
the blessing of peace has again quite forsaken us, and the people tired
with being happy, have drawn the curse of war upon their own heads; and
the clergy, like true christians, confound their enemies heartily. Money
begins already to be as scarce as truth, honour and honesty; and a man
may walk from _Ludgate_ to _Aldgate_, near high change-time, and not
meet a citizen with a full bag under his arm, or jot of plain-dealing in
his conscience. The ready specie lies all in the _Bank_ and _Exchequer_,
and most traders estates lie in their pocket-books and their comb-cases:
paper goes current instead of cash, and pen and ink does us more service
than the mines in the _Indies_. I am very much in arrears upon the
account of my business, as well as the brethren of my quality; but
whether we shall be paid in this world or the next, we are none of us
yet certain. You made a timely step out of a troublesome world, could I
imagine you were got into a worse, I could easily pin my faith upon
impossibilities; but fare as you will, it cannot be long e’er I shall
give you my company, and discover the truth of that which our priests
talk so much of, and know so little:
_Till then I rest yours_,
BLOW.
_From worthy Mrs._ BEHN _the Poetress, to the famous Virgin Actress_.
_Madam_,
I vow to Gad, lady, of all the fair sex that ever occupied their
faculties upon the publick stage, I think your pretty self the only
miracle! for a woman to cloak the frailties of nature with such
admirable cunning as you have done hitherto, merits, in my opinion, the
wonder and applause of the whole kingdom! how many chaste _Diana_’s in
your station have lost their reputation before they have done any thing
to deserve it! but for a woman of your quality first to surrender her
honour, and afterwards preserve her character, shows a discreet
management beyond the policy of a statesman: your appearance upon the
stage puts the court-ladies to the blush, when they reflect that a
mercenary player should be more renown’d for her virtue, than all the
glorious train of fair spectators; who, like true women, hear your
praises whisper’d with regret, and behold your person with insupportable
envy. The _Roman_ empress _Messalina_ was never half so famous for her
lust, as you are for your chastity; nor the most christian king’s
favourite, madam _Maintenon_, more eminent for her parts, than you are
for your cunning; for nothing is a greater manifestation of a woman’s
conduct, than for her to be vicious without mistrust, and to gratify her
looser inclinations without discovery; at which sort of managements you
are an absolute artist, as since my departure I have made evident to
myself, by residing in those shades where the secrets of all are open;
for peeping by chance into the breast of your old acquaintance, where
his sins were as plainly scor’d as tavern-reckonings upon a bare-board;
there did I behold, among his numberless transgressions, your name
register’d so often in the black list, that fornication with madam
B---- came so often into the score, that it seem’d to me like a chorus at
the end of every stanza in an old ballad: besides had I wanted so
manifest a proof, as by chance I met with, experience has taught me to
judge of my own sex to a perfection, and I know the difference there is
between being really virtuous and only accounted so: I am sensible ’tis
as hard a matter for a pretty woman to keep herself honest in a theatre,
as ’tis for an apothecary to keep his treacle from the flies in hot
weather; for every libertine in the audience will be buzzing about her
honey-pot, and her virtue must defend itself by abundance of fly-flaps,
or those flesh-loving insects will soon blow upon her honour, and when
once she has had a maggot in her tail, all the pepper and salt in the
kingdom will scare keep her reputation from stinking; therefore that
which makes me admire your good housewifery, above all your sex, is,
that notwithstanding your powdering-tub, has been so often polluted, yet
you have kept your flesh in such credit and good order that the nicest
appetite in the town would be glad to make a meal of it.
You must excuse me, _Madam_, that I am thus free with you, for you know
’tis the custom of our sex to take all manner of liberty with one
another, and to talk smuttily, and act waggishly when we are by
ourselves, tho’ we scarce dare listen to a merry tale in man’s company
for fear of being thought impudent. You know the bob-tail’d monster is a
censorious creature, and if we should not be cunning enough to cast a
mist before the eyes of their understanding sometimes there would be no
living among them; and therefore I cannot but highly commend you for
your prudence in covering all your vicious inclinations by an
hypocritical deportment: for how often have we heard men say, tho’ a
woman be a whore, yet they love she should carry herself modestly? that
is as much as to say, they love to be cheated, and you know, _Madam_, we
can hit their humours in that particular to a hairs-breadth, and convey
one man away from under our petticoats to make room for another, with as
much dexterity as the _German_ artist does his balls, that the keenest
eye in _Christendom_ shall not discern the juggle, for a woman ought to
be made up of all chinks and crannies, that when a man searches for any
thing he should not find, she may shuffle about her secrets so, that the
devil can’t discover them, or else she’s fit only to make a sempstress
on, and can never be rightly qualified for intriguing. I have just now
the rememberance of a few female stratagems crept into my head, which
were practised by a pretty lady of my acquaintance, perhaps, _Madam_, if
they are not stale to you, you may make them of some service hereafter;
therefore in hopes of obliging you, I shall acquaint you with the
particulars.
I happen’d long since in the time of my youth, when powerful nature
prompted me to delight in amorous adventures, to contract a friendship
with a fair lady, who for her wit and beauty, was often times solicited
by the male sex to help make up that beast of pleasure with two backs,
and hating to submit herself to the tyrannical government of a single
person, never wanted a whole parliament of nipples to give her suck,
tho’ she flatter’d one man that kept her, to believe he was sole monarch
of the _Low-Countries_; but one time he unfortunately happen’d to catch
her, with a new relation, of whom he was a little jealous, believing for
some reasons he had an underhand design of liquoring his boots for him,
to prevent which he impos’d an oath of abjuration upon his mistress, and
made her swear for the future to renounce the sight of him, which to
oblige her keeper, she very readily consented to, but no sooner was his
back turn’d, but she had invented a salve for her conscience, as well as
her concupiscence, and dispatching a letter to her new lover, told him
what had pass’d, but withal, encourag’d him to renew his visits at such
opportunities as she informed him were convenient; at the time appointed
her spark came, she received him with a blind compliment, and told him,
she would open any thing but her eyes to oblige him; but those she must
keep shut for her oath’s sake, having sworn never to see him if she
could help it. The gentleman was very well satisfied he had so
conscientious a lady to deal with: love, _Madam_, says he, is always
blind, and for my part, I shall be content to enjoy the darkest of your
favours; upon which he began vigorously to attack love’s fortress, which
you know, _Madam_, has no mere eyes than a beetle; as she told me the
story, he was beat off three times, and at last was forc’d to draw off
his forces, so march’d off to raise recruits against the next
opportunity. The next day came the governour of the garrison, as he
foolishly thought himself, and made a strict enquiry whether she had any
correspondence with the enemy? lord, Sir, says she, what do you take me
to be? a devil; as I hope to be sav’d, I never set eyes of him since you
engag’d me to the contrary: so all things past off as well as if no evil
had been acted.
The next fresh acquaintance she contracted, she would never suffer to
wait upon her at her lodgings, other ways dress’d than in female
apparel; so when a new fit of jealousy put her spark upon purging her
conscience upon oath, as I have a soul to be sav’d, says she, no
creature in breeches but yourself has been near me since you had
knowledge of it; therefore why, my dear, should you harbour such ill
thoughts of a woman that loves you as dearly as I do my beads and
crucifix? thus, tho’ she deceiv’d him as often as she had opportunity,
yet her discretion kept all things in such admirable decorum, that I
never knew any of the fair sex, except yourself, like her.
If it were not for these witty contrivances, subtle shifts and evasions,
which we are forc’d to use to keep the male sex easy, a pretty or an
ingenious woman, to make one happy must make twenty miserable; or wit
and beauty are never without abundance of admirers; and if such a woman
were to sacrifice all her charms to the miserly temper of one single
lover, the rest must run distracted, and at this rate the whole world in
a short time would become one great _Bedlam_; besides, since there is
enough to make all happy, if prudently dispens’d, I know no reason why
one man should engross more than he is able to deal with, and other men
want that, which by using there can be no miss of; therefore I commend
you for the liberty you take to oblige your chosen friends, and the
prudence you use to conceal it from the envious number you think
unworthy of your smiles; so with this advice I shall conclude, if you
have twenty gallants that taste your favours in their turns, let no man
know he has a rival-sharer in the happiness, but swear to every one
a-part, none enjoys you but himself; and by this means you will oblige
the whole herd, and make yourself easy in their numerous embraces.
A. BEHN.
_The Virgin’s Answer to Mrs._ BEHN.
It is no great wonder to me you should prove so witty, since so many
sons of _Parnassus_, instead of climbing the _Heliconian_ hill, should
stoop so low, as to make your _mount of Venus_ the barren object of
their poetick fancies: I have heard some physicians say, the sweet
fornication draws mightily from the brain; for which reason, it is more
affected with the pleasure than any other part of the body; if so, how
could the spirit of poesy be otherwise than infus’d into you, since you
always gain’d by what the fraternity of the Muses lost in your embraces?
you were the young poets _Venus_; to you they paid their devotion as a
Goddess, and their first adventure, when they adjourn’d from the
university to the town, was to solicite your favours; and this advantage
you enjoy’d above the rest of your sex, that if a young student was but
once infected with a rhiming itch, you by a butter’d bun could make him
an establish’d poet at any time; for the contagion, like that of a worse
distemper, will run a great way, and be often strangely contracted. I
have heard a gentleman say, that when he was bedded with a poetess, or
rival’d a poet in his mistress, that he has dreamt of nothing but plays,
ballads and lampoons for six months after; and has been forc’d to
cuckold a critick, before he could get cur’d of the distemper. From
hence it appears, that a man in his sober senses runs a greater hazard
of his brains in having familiar contract with a daughter of the
_Muses_, than a drunken man does of his nobler parts, in paving the
common-shore of a town prostitute.
You upbraid me with a great discovery you chanc’d to make, by peeping
into the breast of an old friend of mine; if you give yourself but the
trouble of examining an old poet’s conscience, who went lately off the
stage, and now takes up his lodgings in your territories, and I don’t
question, but you’ll there find, Mrs. _Behn_ writ as often in black
characters, and stands as thick in some places, as the names of the
generation of _Adam_ in the first of _Genesis_. But oh! that I had but
one glance into your own accounts; there I am sure, should I find a
compleat register of all the poets of your standing, from the _Laureat_,
down to the _White-Fryars_ ballad-monger: at this rate, well might you
be esteem’d a female wit, since the least return your versifying
admirers could make you for your favours, was, first to lend you their
assistance, and then oblige you with their applause: besides, how could
you do otherwise than produce some wit to the world, since you were so
often plough’d and sow’d by the kind husbandmen of _Apollo_? but give me
leave, _Madam_, to tell you, after all your amorous intrigues to please
the taglines of the age, and all the fatigue of your brains to oblige a
fickle audience, I never could yet hear that your reputation ever soar’d
above the character of a bawdy poetess; and these were the two knacks
you were chiefly happy in, one was to make libertines laugh, and the
other to make modest women blush; and had you happen’d to have liv’d in
a reforming age, under the lash of Mr. _C----r_, he would have so
firk’d you about the pig-market, that you must have learn’d to have writ
more modestly, or he would have been apt to have said, you certainly
thinn’d your ink with your own water, or you could never have writ so
bawdily.
You seem almost to think it an indispensible difficulty for a woman in
my quality to preserve her reputation, especially if she has done any
thing to deserve the loss of it; I say, a prudent woman may do it with
all the facility imaginable, by keeping up to a few maxims in female
policy, which few woman are strangers to. _First_, Were I to give myself
liberty (as whether I do or no is no matter to any body) I would always
bestow my favours upon those above me, and those beneath me, and never
be concern’d with any man upon an equal footing; and these are my
reasons: Suppose the vitious eyes of a great man are fix’d upon me, and
my charms should kindle a love-passion in the cockles of his heart; he
writes, chatters, swears and prays, according to custom in such cases,
I still defend the premisses, by a flat verbal denial; but at the same
instant incourage him in my looks, and am always free to oblige him with
my company; till by this sort of usage I make him sensible downright
courtship will never prevail; and that the cittadel he besieges is not
to be surrender’d without bribing the governess: then he begins to mix
his fine words with fine presents; he gives, I receive, returning a side
glance for a diamond ring, two smiles for a gold watch, a kiss for a
pearle necklace, and at last for a round sum the ultimate of my favours;
of which, in one months time, he is as much tir’d, as a child is of a
_Bartholomew_ knick-knack, and so we seperate again, both fully
satisfied: in this case, I say, a woman’s reputation is pretty safe; for
if he has any brains, he will be afraid to discover I have been his
bedfellow, lest I should tell the world he has been my bubble; for he
can’t help believing, if he had never been my fool, I had never been his
mistress.
In the next place, why I would rather submit to make a friend of an
inferior, than an equal; I think these reasons are sufficient; if I
oblige a man beneath me, he looks upon my condescention to be his
greatest honour; and ’tis but now and then furnishing his pockets with a
little spending money, and he’ll drudge like a stone-horse to give me a
competent refreshment; not only that, but he’ll lie for me, swear for
me, fight for me, and be always speaking in praise of my virtues upon
every occasion; my mixing his pleasure with profit, makes it so much the
sweeter, and engages him to give my favours a more diligent attendance.
I can govern, comand, expect, and make him more my slave than a woman is
to her keeper; and he takes it to be his only happiness to be so. And
for my part, think there is more satisfaction in having a man that one
likes, in this sort of subjection, than there is in being courtezan to
any gouty peer in _Christendom_; for I have always had the same ambition
to be mistress over some of the male sex, as some of them have had to
make me their humble servant. These are the reasons why some ladies
submit themselves to the lash of the long whip, and love to be jerk’d by
their coach-man; and why lawyers wives join issue with their husbands
clerks; and shop-keepers help-mates court the benevolence of their
apprentices: for a woman’s business is seldom done by a man that’s her
master; and I must frankly confess, were I to be a slave to the best
man’s lust in the kingdom, tho’ kept never so well for’t, if I had not a
man beneath me in the same classis. I should think my life but in a
miserable confinement; for there is no other pleasure in money got over
the devil’s back, but in spending it under his belly; besides, if a
woman’s reputation be safe in any man’s power, it must certainly be
secure in the custody of an inferior so oblig’d; for interest is the
best padlock in the world to confine a tongue to silence: but if you
make an equal your familiar, and no interest binding on either side,
upon every little disgust it shall be, confound you for a wh--re, what
made you disappoint me? d--mn you for a jilt, what spark were you
engag’d with? and this sort of usage, in a little time, a woman must
expect to be treated with; and ten to one, but at last expos’d; and this
is all the gratitude the poor loving fool shall meet with for her
kindness.
Pray, _Madam_, tho’ I have been so free with you, as to deliver you my
sentiments, don’t you take me to be a person that ever put them into
practice; I only tell you, according to my present judgment, what I
believe I should do, was I under the same predicament with many ladies,
whom I see daily in the boxes; but I thank my stars, I had always more
modesty than to be lewd; and more generosity, than to be mercenary; and
have hitherto took care to preserve a virtuous reputation,
notwithstanding I know what I know; therefore I defy your conscience
peeping; besides, that was in another world; and when all comes to all,
I believe ’tis only a piece of your own romantick wit, and as such I
take it. _So farewel._
_From Madam_ CRESWELL _of_ pious Memory, _to her Sister in
Iniquity_ MOLL QUARLES _of_ Known Integrity.
_Dear Sister_,
It is no little grief to me on this side the grave, to hear what a low
ebb the good old trade of basket-making is reduc’d to in the age you
live in; for I hear it is as much as a woman of tolerable beauty, and
reasonable share of experience can well do, to keep clean smocks to her
back, and pay her surgeon; when in my time, praised be the l--rd for it,
I kept my family as neat and sweet, poor girls, as any alderman’s
daughters in the city of _London_. I don’t know what scandal our
profession may be dwindled into since my departure from the upper world;
but I am sure thro’ the course of my life, I was look’d upon by the
whole city to be as honest an old gentlewoman, as ever hazarded her soul
for the service of her country; and always took care to deal in as good
commodities, as any shopkeeper in _London_ could desire to have the
handling of, true, wholesom country-ware; whole waggon-loads have I had
come up at a time, have dress’d them at my own expence, made them fit
for man’s use, and put them into a saleable condition. The clergy, I am
sure, were much beholden to me, for many a poor parson’s daughter have I
taken care on, bought her shifts to her back, put a trade into her
belly, taught her a pleasant livelihood, that she might support herself
like a woman, without being beholden to any body; who otherwise must
have turn’d drudge, waited upon some proud minx or other, or else have
depended upon relations; yet these unmannerly priests had the sinful
ingratitude before I dy’d, to refuse praying for me in their churches;
tho’ I dealt by all people with a conscience, and was so well beloved in
the parish I liv’d in, that the churchwardens themselves became my daily
customers.
My home was always a sanctuary for distressed ladies; I never refus’d
meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths, to any that had the least
spark of wit, youth, beauty, or gentility, to recommend them to my
charity; ladies women, chambermaids, cookmaids of any sort, when out of
service, were at all times welcome to my table, ’till they could better
provide for themselves; and I am sure, tho’ I say it that should not, I
kept as hospitable a house for all comers and goers, as any woman in
_England_; for the best of flesh was never wanting to delight the
appetites of both sexes; the toppingest shopkeepers in the city us’d now
and then to visit me for a good supper; and I never fail’d of having a
tid-bit ready for them; dainties that were hot and hot, never over-done,
but always with the gravy in them, which pleas’d them so wonderfully,
that they us’d to cry their own victuals at home was meer carrion to it;
nay, their very wives, sometimes, contrary to their own husbands
knowledge, have tripp’d in, in an evening, complain’d they have been as
hungry as hawks, and desired me to provide a morsel for them that might
satisfy their bellies; for you must know, both sexes were wonderful
lovers of my cookery, and would feed very heartily upon such nice
dainties that I toss’d up for them, when no other sort of flesh would by
any means go down with them. Many hopeful babes have been beholden to my
mansion-house for their generation; who tho’ they were never wise enough
to know their own father, yet some of them, for ought I know, may at
this day be aldermen; for I have had as good merchants ladies, as ever
liv’d in _Mincing-lane_, apply themselves to my fertile habitation for
change of diet; and have come twice or thrice a week to refresh nature
with my standing dishes; for I always kept an open house to feast
lovers; and, _Jove_ be thanked, never wanted variety to gratify the
appetites of mankind. Thirty pair of haunches, both bucks and does, have
been wagging their scuts at one another within the compass of one
evening; and many noblemen, notwithstanding they had deer of their own,
us’d to come to my park for a bit of choice venison, for I never wanted
what was fat and good, tho’ within my pale it was all the year
rutting-time.
It is well known, I kept as good orders in my house as ever was observed
in a nunnery; I had a church-bible always lay open upon my hall-table,
and had every room in my house furnish’d with the _Practice of Piety_,
and other good books for the edification of my family; that for every
minute they sinn’d, they might repent an hour at their leisure
intervals. I kept a chaplain in my house, and had prayers read twice a
day, as constantly as the sun rises in a morning, and sets in an
evening; and tho’ I say it, I had a parcel of as honest religious girls
about me, as ever pious matron had under her tuition at a _Hackney_
boarding-school; nor would they ever dare to humble the proud flesh of a
sinner without my leave or approbation; and, like good christians, as
often as they had sinn’d, came to auricular confession. I always did
every thing in the fear of the lord, and was, I thank my Creator, so
happy in my memory, that I had as many texts of scripture at command,
as a presbyterian parson. For my zeal to religion, and the services I
daily did to the publick community, I bless my stars, I never wanted a
city magistrate to stand my friend in the times of persecution, or any
other adversity; but could have half the court of aldermen appear on my
behalf at an hour’s warning. I kept a painter in my house perpetually
employ’d upon fresh faces, and had a good as collection of pictures, to
the life, as ever were to be seen in _Lilly_’s showing-room; beauties of
all complexions, from the cole-black cling-fast, to the golden-lock’d
insatiate, from the sleepye’d slug, to the brisk-ey’d wanton; from the
reserv’d hypocrite, to the lew’d fricatrix; so that every man might
choose by the shadow, what kind of beauteous substance would give his
fancy the greatest titillation. Every room in my house was adorn’d with
the picture of some grave bishop, that my customers might see what a
great veneration I had for the clergy; all my lodgings were as well
furnish’d, as the splendid apartments of a prince’s palace; that every
citizen, whose wife had been kiss’d at court, might fancy in revenge, by
the richness of his bed, he was making a cuckold of a nobleman. I never
was without _Viper-wine_ for a fumbler, to give a spur to old age and
assist impotency. I also had right _French Claret_, and the flower of
_Canary_, to wash away the dregs of the last _Sunday_’s sermon, that the
bugbears of conscience might not fright a good churchman from the
pleasures of fornication. I had orders in every room, against cathedral
exercise, or beastical back-slidings, and made it ten shillings
forfeiture for any that were caught in such actions; because I would not
be bilk’d of my bed-money. These were the measures I took in my
occupation to procure an honest livelihood; and Heaven be prais’d, I
thriv’d as well in my profession, as if my calling had been licensable.
How times are alter’d since, I know not, but I hear, to my great sorrow,
that bawding, of late years, which us’d to be a trade of itself, is now
grown scandalous, and very much declin’d by reason that midwives, like a
parcel of incroaching husseys, have engross’d the whole business to
themselves, to the starving of you experienc’d old ladies, who have
spent their days, and worn out their beauty in the service of the
publick; and ought in all equity to be the only persons, thought
qualifi’d for so judicious an undertaking, to support them in their old
age, when father time has stripp’d them of their charms, and their noble
faculties fail them; besides, I hear noblemen employ their own valets,
ladies their own waiting women, citizens wives one another, and all to
save charges, to the ruin of our poor sister-hood.
Alack a-day! what a pernicious age do you live in? that traders should
trust one another to buy their commodities, and all to save the expence
of brokerage. I fear, there are some instruments among yourselves, that
have been the main occasion of your being thus neglected. I shall
further proceed, to give you a little advice, which, if but duly
observ’d, may, I hope, in a little time, recover the antient state of
bawdery into a flourishing condition, and make it once more as reputable
a calling, as it was when clergymens widows, and decay’d ladies at
court, did not disdain to follow it.
Never neglect publick prayers twice a day, hear two sermons every
_Sunday_, receive the sacrament once a month, but let this be done at a
church where you are unknown; and be sure read the scriptures often, and
be sure fortify your tongue with abundance of godly sayings, let them
drop from you in strange company, as thick as ripe fruit from the tree
in a high wind; and whenever you have a design upon the daughter, be
sure of the mother’s faith, and ply her closely with religion, and she
will trust her beloved abroad with you in hopes she may edify; for you
must consider, there is no being a perfect bawd without being a true
hypocrite.
Always have a lodging separate from your house, in a place of credit;
where, upon an occasion, you may entertain the parents without being
suspected, and corrupt the minds of their children before they know your
employment: you must first pour the poison in at their ears, infect
their thoughts, and when their fancies begin to itch, they will have
their tails rubb’d in spite of the devil.
Whenever you have a maiden-head, be sure make a penny of the first
fruits, and at the second-hand let the next justice of peace have the
residue on free cost, tho’ you must give her her lesson, and present her
as a pure virgin; by this sort of bribery, you may win all the
magistrates in _Middlesex_; make _Hicks’s-hall_ your sanctuary, and gain
an useful ascendency over the whole bench of justices.
Never admit common faces into your domestick seraglio, ’tis a scandal to
your family, a dishonour to your function, and will certainly spoil your
trade; but ply close at inns upon the coming in of waggons, and
gee-ho-coaches, and there you may hire fresh country wenches, sound,
plump, and juicy, and truly qualified for your business.
Whatever you do, never trust any of your tits into an inn of court, or
inn of chancery, for if you do they will certainly harass her about from
chamber to chamber, till they have rid her off her legs; elevate her by
degrees, from the ground-floor to their garrets, and make her drudge
like a landress, thro’ a whole stair-case; and after a good weeks work,
send her home with foul linnen, torn heed-geer, rumbled scarf, apparel
spew’d upon, without fan, with but one glove, no money, and perhaps a
hot tail into the bargain.
This advice for the present, if put in practice, I hope will prove of
use to you; I must tell you, there is nothing to be done in the world
you live in, without cunning; religion itself, without policy, is too
simple to be safe; therefore, if you do but take care for the future and
deal by the world, as a woman of your station ought to do, and play your
cards like a gamestress, I don’t at all question, but the mystery of
bawding, by your good management, may be rais’d again, in spite of
reformation, to its pristine eminency; which are the hearty wishes of,
_Your Defunct Friend_,
CRESWELL.
MOLL QUARLES_’s_ Answer to Mother CRESWELL of Famous Memory.
_Loving Sister_,
_Your compassionate letter, has so won my affections to your pious
memory, that it shall be always my endeavour to pursue your kind
instructions, and to make myself the happy imitatrix of your glorious
example, having often, with great satisfaction, heard of your fame;
which as long as there is a young libertine, or an honest old
whoremaster living upon earth, can never be obliterated. Were I to give
you an account of the severe usage, and many persecutions I have been
under of late days, since the mercenary reformation of ill-manners has
been put on foot, it would soften the most obdurate wretches within your
infernal precincts, and make them squeeze me out a tear of pity, tho’
your unextinguishable fire had so dry’d their souls, that their
immortalities were crusted into perfect cinder._
_Of all the unmerciful impositions that ever were laid upon bumb-labour,
none ever so highly afflicted, or so insupportably oppress us, the
retailers of copulation, as this intolerable society, who have brib’d
those who were our pimps to forsake our interest; and have made those
scoundrels who were our meanest servants, our implacable masters; who
come in clusters like cowardly bailiffs to arrest a bully; distrain our
commodities for want of money to pacify their greedy avarice; fright
away our customers, and make us pawn our cloaths to redeem little more
than our nakedness from a cat of nine-tails, and the filthy confines of
a stinking prison: At least five hundred of these reformed vultures are
daily plundering our pockets, and ransacking our houses, leaving me
sometimes not one pair of tractable buttocks in my vaulting-school to
provide for my family, or earn me so much as a pudding for my next_
Sunday’s _dinner: nay, sometimes I have been forc’d to wag my own hand
to get a penny for want of a journey-woman in my house to dispatch
business. To shun their jury, I once got sanctuary in the_
Rolls-_liberty, where I thought myself as safe as a fox in a badgers
hole, and had bid defiance to the rogues even to this day, for only
sacrificing now and then an elemosynary maiden-head to the fumbling of
old impotency; but some ill-natur’d observators beginning to reflect,
occasion’d my good friend to look a little a-skew upon me, when he found
his gravity and reputation began to be smear’d a little; so that I was
soon toss’d out by his untimely fear, whose lust before had kindly given
me protection: and now again, as true as I am a sinner, the rogues
plunder’d me of at least eight pence out of every shilling for
forbearance-money, and I believe will grow so unreasonable in a little
time, that they will not be content with less gain than an apothecary.
The officers of the parish, where-ever I liv’d, had the scouring of
their old rusty hangers for a word speaking, without so much as
gratifying the wench for making the bed, or being ever at the expence of
presenting one of my poor girls with a paper-fan, or a pair of taffeta
shoestrings. One honest churchwarden, I must confess, when I liv’d in
St._ Andrew_’s parish, after I had serv’d him and his son with the
choicest goods in my warehouse for above two years together, till they
had got a wife between them, had the gratitude, like an honest man, to
present me with a looking-glass; which I took so kindly at his hands,
that I declare it, should he come to my house to morrow, I would oblige
him with as good a commodity in my way, as a worthy old fornicator or
adulterer would desire to lay his hand upon_.
_Thus plaguing and pillaging of all our known houses of delight, has
been a great discouragement to young ladies from tendring their service
at such places, or rendevouzing in numbers upon the lawful occasions
that concern their livelihood, for fear of trouble or molestation, and
make them rather choose to deel singly, as interlopers, than incorporate
themselves with the company of town-traders, for fear of being scratch’d
out of their burrows by those reforming ferrets, who make worse havock
with the poor sculking creatures, than so many weasles or pole-cats
would do with coneys in a warren; they sleep in fear, walk in dread,
converse in danger, do their business, poor wretches, insteed of
pleasure, with an aking heart. Oh, sister! what a miserable age is this
we live in after you, that one part of mankind cannot obey the great law
of nature, but the other part shall make a law to punish them for doing
it! Which sport, if totally neglected, would soon make lions, and tygers
princes of the earth, and turn the world into a solitary wilderness._
_I cannot but reflect, with great concern, upon the unreasonableness of
some men in authority, who loving the old trade of basket-making so well
themselves, are so inveterate against the same practice in others, that
I cannot but believe, they think the sweet sin of copulation ought to be
enjoy’d by none under the dignity of a justice of peace, or at least
the authority of a high constable: nay, and are so inveterate when they
grow old, against other creatures who they know use it, that a grave
city magistrate, one of the reformed-society, seeing a young game cock
of his own, refresh his feather’d mistress three times in about half an
hour, he grew so wonderful angry with the lascivious chaunticleer, that
he order’d him forthwith to be depriv’d of his progenitors, for
committing so foul an act with such indecent immoderation; looking upon
the intemperance to be a shameful example, sufficient to stir up
inordinate desires in mankind, and to put the female part of his own
family upon unreasonable expectancies; but the good lady of the house
enquired into the reason, why the noble little creature was so severely
dealt by, and being inform’d by her chamber-maid, she compassionately
declar’d, that she would rather have given five pound than so barbarous
an action had been done in her family, for that the bird committed no
offence, and therefore deserv’d no punishment. Observe but in this
particular the cruelty of sordid man, and the tenderness of the female
sex! and how can those poor girls, who have nothing to depend on but the
drudgery of flipflap, expect any other than severe usage from so morose
a creature? For certain, whilst publick magistrates are in their
authority so stiff, and private women in their own houses so pliable,
the ladies of the town must starve, and be firk’d about from one_
Bridewell _to another; for the favours of a kind mistress, which were
once thought the most valuable blessings beneath the clouds, are now
become, thro’ the universal corruption of the female sex, such
unregarded drugs, that the scene is quite revers’d, and as women us’d to
take money formerly as but just recompence for their soft embraces, they
are forc’d to give money now, or else they will have a hard matter to
procure a gallant that is worth whistling after. How therefore at this
rate, are the poor whores like to be fed, when the rich ones buy up all
for their cats, and the middling whores in private lie and pick up the
crumbs? For what won’t down with the quality, are snapp’d up by
citizens-wives, sempstresses and head-dressers; insomuch, that I have
several pretty nymphs under my own jurisdiction, that some weeks I may
modestly say, don’t earn money enough to pay their three-penny
admittances into_ Pancras-_wells, but are often-times forc’d to tick
half a sice a piece for their watering; and were it not for the credit
I always preserve in those places, the poor wenches might be dash’d out
of countenance by being refus’d entrance; but money or no money, if they
are my puppets, and name but who they belong to, they are as kindly
receiv’d as so many butchers at the_ Bear-Garden; _for without them
there would be no sport. You may from thence observe what an honest
reputation I maintain abroad for a lady of my calling, that the word of
the homeliest courtezan protected under my roof, will pass for
three-pence any where that she’s known, without the least exception,
when many a poor house-keeper has not credit for a two-penny loaf._
_We have nothing to hope for, but that the national senate, thro’ their
wonted wisdom, will find out, without shamming on’t, some real expedient
to restrain the looseness of the age, and promote the practice of
morality and strict observance of religion; for thro’ all the experience
I have had in the mystery of intriguing, I have ever found the lady’s
students in the school of_ Venus, _attended with the most prosperity
when the people are most pious; whether it is that a good conscience
teaches gentlemen to be more grateful to their mistresses, or that as
the priests grow fat, the petticoat flourishes, I will leave you to
determine: so thanking you for the kind advice you gave me in your
letter, which shall always be esteem’d a guide to my future practice_,
_I rest_,
Your Loving Sister,
MOLL QUARLES.
[Illustration]
LETTERS
FROM THE
DEAD _to the_ LIVING.
PART III.
_The third and last Letter from Seignior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO,
_High-German Doctor and Astrologer in_ Brandinopolis, _to his
Friends at_ WILL_’s Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden.
_By Mr._ THO. BROWN.
_Gentlemen_,
I was forc’d to break off my last abruptly, by reason of the vast crowds
of people, which press’d upon me then for advice, so that I could not
present you with a full catalogue of my cures, which you will find at
the conclusion of this, or acquaint you with what transactions of moment
have lately happen’d in our gloomy regions. But having by miracle a
vacant hour or two at present upon my hands, which, by the by, is a
blessing I am seldom troubled with, I was resolv’d not to neglect so
fair a opportunity of paying my respects to you, and therefore without
any more preface or formality, will continue the thread of my narration.
I had no sooner publish’d my bill and catalogue of cures, but my house
has been crouded ever since with prodigious shoals of patients, that I
can hardly afford myself an hour to pass with my friends: they flock
from all corners of this gigantic city, so that sometimes not only my
court-yard which is very large and spacious, but even my chamber, my
anti-chamber, and if you’ll allow me, gentlemen, to coin a new word, my
pro-anti-chamber, or my hall, is full of them: I will only tell you the
names of a few customers of quality that resorted to me for advice
yesterday morning: to give you an idea of my business, and how
considerable ’tis like to prove.
About a month after my setting up, who should rap at my door, but the
famous _Semiramis_? I remembered her royal phiz perfectly well, ever
since my friend _Nokes_ carried me to her coffee-house, and treated me
there with a glass of _Geneva_; however, for certain reasons of state I
did not think it proper to let her _Babylonian_ majesty know, that I was
acquainted either with her name or quality; come good woman, said I to
her, what is your business? _Oh!_ replies she, _you see the most
unfortunate, unhappy creature in the world_. Why what calamity has
befallen you? _Only_, says she, _too big for words to express_; with
that she wrung her hands, stamp’d upon the floor, cursing the
left-handed planet she was born under, and pouring down such a deluge of
tears, that one would have thought it had been the second edition of the
_Ephesian_ matron, lamenting the loss of one spouse in order to wheedle
on a second. When her grief had pretty well exhausted itself at the
sluices of her eyes, she thus continu’d her tragical _historietto_.
_Were I minded, doctor, to trouble you with my genealogy, I could
perhaps, make it easily appear, that few people are descended of better
parents than myself, but let that pass; the scene is alter’d with me at
present, and rather than take up with ill courses, or to be troublesom
to my relations, I am content to keep a coffee-house. Now as I was
sitting in my bar this morning, and footing a pair of stockings for_
Alexander _the_ great, _in came two rascally grenadiers, and ask’d for
some juniper; but alas! while I was gone down into the cellar to fetch
it, these lubberly rogues plunder’d me of a silver spoon and
nutmeg-grater, and made their escape_. Come mistress, says I, this loss
is not so great but a little diligence may retrieve it. _Oh never_, says
she again, _unless you help me by your art, I am utterly undone to all
intents and purposes_. Finding her so much mortify’d for the loss of her
two utensils, I resolv’d to exert the fortune-teller to her, and banter
her in the laudable terms of astrology; so putting on a very compos’d
countenance, I seem’d very seriously to consult a celestial globe that
stood before me; then enquiring the precise time when this horrid theft
was committed, I drew several odd figures and strokes upon a piece of
paper, and at last the oracle thus open’d: _Mistress, it appears I find
by the_ Heliocentric _position of the planets, that_ Jupiter, _you
understand me, is become stationary to retrogradation in_ Cancer, _and
consequently, you observe me, mistress, equivocal to him; but how and
why in_ Trine _to_ Mercury _in_ Scorpio, _both posited in watry signs,
and at the same time_ Mars _being ascendant of the second house, as you
may perceive, ’tis as plain that the culminating aspect of_ Saturn_’s_
Satellites, _do ye mind me, centres full in the foresaid configuration.
So then mistress, the hoary question thus resolves itself_, viz. _That
your goods were carry’d away_ South-East _by_ East _of your house, under
the sign of a four-footed creature, and if you’ll leave open your
parlour windows a-nights, I dare pawn my life and honour, that both your
silver spoon and nutmeg-grater will be flung into the house one of the
nights_. _Semiramis_ was wonderfully pleas’d to hear such news, dropt me
a fee, and went about her business.
She was hardly gone, but in came queen _Dido_, who the last time I saw
her call’d _Virgil_ so many rogues and rascals in my hearing, for
raising such a malicious story of her and and the pious _Æneas_; it was
a long time before I could get her to tell me what errand she came
about: at last, after abundance of blushing, and covering half her face
with her hood, _Seignior_ Hanesio, says she, _I doubt not but a person
of your experience has observ’d in his time but too many instances of
female infirmity. To be plain with you, I am one, and tho’ I made as
great a splutter about my virtue as the soundest of my sex, yet I was a
damn’d recreant all that while. In short, I find by several indications
which I have not nam’d to you, doctor, that I am with child,--and being
very tender of my reputation,--which, doctor, is all we poor women have
to depend upon,---- and loth to have my good name expos’d in ballads and
lampoons.---- I beg the favour of you, dear doctor,---- and you shall
find I will gratify you nobly for your pains, to help me to something
that shall make me,---- but you know my meaning, doctor.---- To miscarry
is it not, Madam? You are in the right on’t, dear Sir, reply’d she. Why
then, Madam, I must tell you, are come to the wrong house; for whether
you know it or no, I carry a tender conscience about me, mind me what I
say, I carry a tender conscience about me, and would not be guilty of
such a wicked thing as you mention for the world. But there is an_
Italian _son of a whore at the corner of the street, that will poison
you and the child in your belly, and half the women in the city for half
a crown. You may make your application to him, if you think fit, but for
my part, Madam, I’ll be perjur’d for no body; for as I told you before,
my conscience is tender_: Upon this our famous _coquette_ immediately
withdrew in a great deal of confusion, and curs’d me plentifully in her
gizzard, I don’t question.
My next visitant was _Lucretia_, who brought some of her water in an
_urinal_, and desir’d me to give her my judgment on’t. Finding her
ladyship look a little blueish, and so forth, under the eyes; what was
more, having been privately inform’d of the correspondence she kept with
_Æsop_ the _fabulist_; _Madam_, says I bluntly to her, _the party to
whom this urine belongs, is under none of the most healthful
circumstances, but troubled with certain prickings and pains. I’ll
swear, doctor_, says she, _you are a man of skill, for to my certain
knowledge the party is troubled with those concerns you were talking of.
You need not forestal me, Madam_, says I to her, _but especially when
she makes water; I knew it as soon as ever I cast my eyes upon the
urinal: and pray, Sir, what may be the occasion of it? for the party is
at a horrid loss, what is the matter with her. Why, Madam_, says I, _the
matter is plain enough, the party has been committing acts of privity
with somebody, and has disoblig’d love’s mansion by it: or to express
myself in the familiar language of a modern versificator and quack_;
_Has been dabbling in private, and had the mishap,_
_In seeking for pleasure to meet with a clap._
_How doctor, says she, have you the impudence to say the party is
clapt?_ verily, Madam, and yet I am no more impudent than some of my
neighbours. _Why you saucy fellow you_, continues she, _I’d have you to
know that I am the party to whome the urine belongs, and my name is_
Lucretia, _that celebrated matron in_ Roman _history, who scorning to
out-live her honour, perferr’d a voluntary death to an ignominious life.
Yes, Madam_, says I, _I know your history well enough, and whatever
opinion I may have of your chastity, I have yet a greater of your
discretion; for, between friends be it said, Madam, before you left the
insignificant world, you were resolv’d to taste the sweetness of young_
Tarquin_’s person; and finding what a vast difference there was between
vigorous love and phlegmatick duty, you thought it not worth your while
to be troubled any longer with the dull embraces of an impotent husband.
Oh most abominable scandal_, cries our matron, _but Heaven be prais’d_
Livy _tells another story of my chastity; and to let thee see how
scrupulous and careful I am to preserve my reputation spotless, know, I
keep company with none but moralists and philosophers. Lord, Madam_,
says I, _your intrigues are no mysteries to me: I am no stranger to that
laudable commerce you keep with that crook-back’d moralist and
fable-monger of_ Phrygia, _they call him my lord; Æsop_ (at which
unwelcome words she look’d paler than I have the charity to believe she
did when the impetuous _Tarquin_ leapt into bed to her) _and as for
those sage recommenders of virtue, the philosophers, take my word for
it, a clap may be got as soon among them, as any other sort of men
whatsoever. Since my coming into these parts, Madam, I am able to give
you a true account of the present state of most of these_ Philosophers’
_bodies_. Thales, _who held that_ Water _was the beginning of all
things, is now satisfy’d that_ Fire _is the conclusion of love_.
Pythagoras _that run thro’ so many changes in the other world, has
undergone a greater transmutation here in a sweating tub. The divine_
Plato, _and his disciple_ Aristotle, _are at this present writing very
lovingly salivating in my garret_. Socrates _had his shin-bones scrap’d
t’other morning by my toad-eater Dr._ Connor, _by the same token the_
Hibernian _thrash’d him for swearing so inordinately at his_ dæmon _that
led him into this mischance_. Aristotle _told me last night, that
nothing in philosophy troubled him so much as pissing of needles_.
Diogenes _has a phiz so merrily collyflower’d, that he protests against
planting of men, since these are the effects of it; and the virtuous_
Seneca _has lost all his_ Roman _patience with his nose. But alas, these
solemn splaymouth’d gentlemen, Madam_, says I, _only do it to improve in
natural philosophy, with no wicked intentions, I can assure you, no
carnal titillation to urge them on, or the like. Well, says she, since
’tis in vain to play the hypocrite any longer, I own myself a downright
frail woman, therefore resolve me what is best to be done for my
recovery? Look you, Madam_, says I, _you must take physick, and live
sober for a fortnight or so, and I’ll engage to make you as primitively
sound as when you first came squaling into the world. Here’s a dose of
pills the devil of any_ Mercury_’s in them; take four of them every
morning, and to make them operate the better, drink me a quart of
honest_ Phlegethon _a little warm’d over the fire, and mix some grated
nutmeg with it to correct the crudity_. She promis’d to observe my
directions, presented me with half a score broad pieces, and as she was
going out of the room, _Worthy doctor_, says she, _I conjure you to have
a care of my dear dear reputation: And_, Madam, answers I, _pray have
you likewise a care of your dear dear brandy bottle, and your beloved
Dr._ Steven_’s water with the gold in it_; and so we parted.
I was thinking with myself, surely it rains nothing but female visitants
this morning, when a brace of two handed strapping jades bolted into my
closet, and upon a due examination of their faces, I found one of them
to be _Thalestris_ the _Amazonian_, who, as I hinted to you in my last,
is become an haberdasheress of small wares; and the other that termagant
motly composition of half man half woman, _Christiana_ the late queen of
_Sweden_. So my two chopping _Bona Roba’s_, says I to ’em and what
business has brought you hither? _Why you must know, cries_ Thalestris,
_that both of us are furiously in love and want a little of your
assistance_.
The ladies may be always sure of commanding that, answers I, but pray
explain yourselves more particularly. _For my part, says_ Thalestris,
_having formerly been happy in the embraces of_ Alexander _the great, I
could never fancy anything but a soldier ever since. Why our military
men_, says I, _have been always famous for attacking and carrying all
places before them, but pray tell me the happy person’s name, whom you
have singled from the rest of his sex to honour with your affection?
With the malicious world_, continues she, _he passes for a bully, but I
call him my lovely charming Capt._ Dawson; _’tis true, I am not
altogether disagreeable to this cruel insensible; he likes the majesty
of my person, my humour and wit well enough; but t’other morning he
told me, over a porringer of burnt brandy, when people are apt to
unbosom themselves, that he had an unconquerable aversion to red hair,
and so I am come to see whether you have any relief for this misfortune,
as you promise in your bills. This is no business of mine_, says I to
her, _but my wife’s who’ll soon redress your grievances, and furnish you
with a leaden comb and my_ Anti-Erythræan _unguent, which after two or
three applications will make you as fair or as brown as you desire_. And
having said so, address’d myself to her companion, and enquir’d of her
what she came for? _I am up to the ears in love, says_ Christiana, _with
a jolly smock-fac’d duchess’s chaplain lately arriv’d in these parts; I
have already signify’d my passion to him, both after the antient and
modern way, persecuted him with_ Latin _and_ French billet-deux, _for
which I was always famous: but this stubborn_ Theologue _tells me my
face is too masculine for him, and particularly quarrels with the
irregularity of my forehead and eyebrows. Those will easily be
recftify’d by my wife_, says I: _and now, Madam, will you give me leave
to ask you a civil question or two?_ a hundred, my dear _seignior_,
answers she very obligingly. _To be short then_, says I, _a certain_
French _author, who has writ the memoirs of your life, has been pleas’d
positively to assert, that your majesty went thro’ at least one half of
the college of cardinals, and that two or three popes were suspected of
being familiar with you. I wanted_, answers she, _no sort of consolation
from those noble personages, while I liv’d at_ Rome; _and to convince
you how well I am satisfied in their abilities, by my good will, I would
have to do with none but ecclesiasticks; for besides that they eat and
drink plentifully, and by consequence want no vigour, they possess
another no less commendable quality, and that is taciturnity. I applaud
your judgment_, replies I, _for your churchmen are true feeders and
thundering performers. No body knows that better than myself_, says
Christiana, _and take my word for it, one robust well-chined priest is
worth a hundred of your lean half starv’d captains. I’ll never hear the
soldiery blasphem’d, says_ Thalestris, _in a mighty passion, I tell
thee, thou insignificant north country trollop, thou foolish affected
grammarian-ridden she-pedant, that one soldier is better than a thousand
of your stiff-rump’d parsons_; and immediately saluted her with a
discourteous reprimand a cross the mazzard. The blood of _Gustavus
Adolphus_ began to be rous’d in _Christiana_, and my glasses, globes,
and crocodile and all, were infallibly going to rack between these two
furious heroines, when my wife luckily stept in to put an end to the
fray. In short the matter was amicable made up, and so they follow’d my
spouse into her closet, where I’ll leave them.
Thus, _gentlemen_, you may perceive what sort of customers resort to me,
I could tell you a hundred more stories to the same purpose, but why
should I pretend to entertain persons of your worth with so mean and
unworthy a subject as my self? therefore to diversify the scene, I will
endeavour to divert you with some occurences of a more publick
importance, which have happen’d in our _Acherontic_ dominions since I
writ to you last.
But before I proceed any farther I am to inform you, that we have a
spacious noble room in the middle of _Brandinopolis_, where the
virtuosos of former ages as well as of the present, use to resort and
entertain one another with learned or facetious conversation, according
as it happens. Of late we have had the same controversy debated among
us, which so long employ’d monsieur _Perault_ and the famous wits of
_France_, I mean, whether the antients are preferable to the moderns in
the learned arts and sciences. The question had been discuss’d one
afternoon with a great deal of heat on both sides, when an honest merry
gentleman and a new comer among us, whose name I have unluckily forgot,
interpos’d in the dispute, and express’d himself to this effect.
Gentlemen, says he, I think you may e’en drop this controversy, for I
can make it appear, that little _England_ alone affords a set of men at
present, that much out-do any of the antients in whatever they pretend
to. There’s honest Mr. _Edmund Whiteaker_, late of the admiralty office,
that in the mystery of making up accounts out-does _Archimedes_; and my
lord _Puzzlechalk_, who told his master’s money over a gridiron,
understands numbers better than _Archytas_ or _Euclid_. Mr. _Burgess_ of
_Covent-Garden_, and indeed most of the _dissenting parsons_, go
infinitely beyond _Tully_ and _Demosthenes_ in point of eloquence; for
those old fashion’d orators could only raise joy and sadness
successively, whereas the latter so manage matters, that they can make
their congregations laugh and weep both at once. The antients were
forc’d to drudge and take pains to make themselves masters of any tongue
before they pretended to write in it; but here’s _your old friend Dr._
Case _by Ludgate_, writ a system of anatomy in _Latin_, and does not
understand a syllable of the language. As for musick you may talk till
your heart akes of your _Amphions_ and your _Orpheus_’s, that drew trees
and stones after them by the irresistible force of their harmony; this
is so far from being a miracle among us, that the vilest thrummers in
_England_ and _Wales_ do it every wake and fair they go to: then as for
the various perturbations of mind caus’d by the antient musick, we saw
something more wonderful happen upon our own theatre since the late
revolution, than antiquity can boast of; for when _Harry Purcel_’s
famous winter song at the _Opera_ of king _Arthur_, was sung at the
play-house, half the gentlemen and ladies in the side boxes and pit got
an ague by it, tho’ it was sung in the midst of the dog-days. Lastly, to
conclude, for I am afraid I have trespass’d too much upon your patience,
we infinitely exceed the antients in quickening of parts: _Virgil_, one
of the topping wits of antiquity, was forc’d to retire out of the noise
and hurry of _Rome_ to his country _Villa_, and bestow’d some ten or
twelve years in composing his _Æneis_: whereas Sir _Richard Blackmore_,
who passes but for a sixth rate versifier among us, was able to write
both his _Arthurs_ in two or three years time, and that in the tumult
and smoak of Coffee-houses, or in his coach as he was jolting it from
one patient to another, amidst the vast multiplicity of his business
too, which as the city bard frankly confesses, was never greater than
then.
The gentleman delivered his ironies with so good a grace that he set all
the company a laughing, and for that time put an end to the dispute. And
now since I am upon the chapter of Sir _Richard_, you must know, that
the young wits, inhabiting upon the banks of _Phlegethon_, have lately
pelted his _Arthurs_ with distichs; but I can only call to mind at
present three of them. The two first reflect upon the poem’s genealogy,
which was partly begot in a coffee-house, and partly in a coach.
_Editus in_ plaustri _strepitu, fumoque_ tabernæ,
_Non aliter nasci debuit_ iste _liber_.
_Qui potuit matrem_ Arthuri _dixisse tabernam_
_e potest currum dicere_, Rufe, _patrem_.
_Sæpius in libro memoratur_ Garthius _uno,_
_Quam levis_ Arthuro Maurus _utroque tumens_.
I do not wonder now at prince _Arthur_’s wonderful loquacity, says
another, (for as I remember, when he and king _Hoel_ met upon the road,
he welcomes him with a simile of forty lines perpendicular) since he was
born at a coffee house; nor at the rumbling of the verse, since one half
of the book was written in a leathern vehicle; for we find, continues
he, that what is bred in the bone, will never out of the flesh; and
thus, ’tis no wonder, that according to the observation of a modern
virtuoso, the _Severn_ is so mischievous and cholerick a river, and so
often ruins the country with sudden inundations, since it rises in
_Wales_, and consequently participates sometimes of the nature of that
hasty, iracund people among whom ’tis born. However, cries surly _Ben_,
I must needs commend Sir _Richard_’s sagacity and politicks in taking
care that his muse should be so openly deliver’d; for Epic poems, like
the children of sovereign princes, ought to be born in publick.
The other day, as I was taking a solitary turn by myself, ’twas my
fortune to meet with a leash of old-fashion’d thread-bare mortals, with
very dejected looks, and in the best equipage of those worthy gentlemen,
whom you may see every day between the hours of twelve and one, walking
in the _Middle-Temple_ and _Grays-Inn_ walks, to get ’em a stomach to
their no-dinners. At first I took them for a parcel of fiddlers, when
the oldest of them undeceiv’d me, by addressing himself to me as
follows. Sir, says he, my name is _J. Hopkins_, my two companions are
the fam’d _Sternhold_ and _Wisdom_, and understanding that you are
lately arrived from _England_, I have presum’d to ask you a question: we
have been inform’d some time ago, that two _Hibernian_ bards, finding
fault with our version and language, have endeavour’d to depose myself
and my two brethren here out of all parish-churches, where we have
reign’d most melodiously so long, and to substitute their own
translation in the room of it; I must confess it vexes me to the heart
to think that I must be ejected after an hundred years quiet possession
and better, which, by the Common as well as Civil law, gives a man a
just title, and resign my ecclesiastical dominions to two new fangled
usurpers, whom I never injur’d in my days. Now, Sir, pray tell me how my
affairs go in your world, and whether I have reputation enough still
left me with the people, to make head against those unrighteous
innovators? Why truly, Mr. _Hopkins_, says I to him, when these
adversaries first appeared in the world, I was in some pain about you,
the conspiracy against your crown and dignity being so speciously laid,
that nothing less than an universal defection seem’d to threaten you.
’Tis true indeed, some few churches in and about _London_, where the
people you know are govern’d by a spirit of novelty, have thrown you
out, but by what advices I can receive, excepting some few revolters,
the generality of the people seem to be heartily engaged in your
interests, and as it always happens to other monarchs when they are able
to surmount an insurrection form’d against them, I look upon your
throne, since you have so happily broke the neck of this rebellion, to
be settled upon a surer basis than ever. The Parish-clerks, sextons, and
old women, all over the kingdom are in a particular manner devoted to
your service, preserving a most entire and unshaken allegiance to you,
and on my conscience would sooner part with all _magna charta_ than one
syllable of yours. You wonderfully revive my spirits, replies old
_Hopkins_, to tell me such comfortable news, but pray, Sir, one word
more with you; This new translation that has made such a noise in the
world, is it so much superior to mine, as my enemies here would make me
believe? Mr. _Hopkins_, says I, I flatter no man, ’tis not my way,
therefore you must not take amiss what I am going to say to you. For my
part I am of opinion, that king _David_ is not oblig’d to any of you,
but ought to cudgel you all round; for I can find no other difference
between the _Jewish_ monarch in his ancient collar of _ekes_ and _ayes_,
which you and your brethren there have bestow’d upon him, and in his
new-fashion’d _Irish_ dress, than there is between an old man of
threescore with a long beard hanging down to his waste, and the same
individual old man newly come out of a barber’s shop nicely shav’d and
powder’d. ’Tis true, he looks somewhat gayer and youth-fuller, but has
not a jot more vigour and ability.
I know you gentlemen of _Will_’s coffee-house, will be glad to hear some
news of Mr. _Dryden_, I must tell you then, that we had the devil all of
combustions and quarrels here in hell since that famous bard’s arrival
among us. The _Grecians_, the _Romans_, the _Italians_, the _Spaniards_,
the _French_, but especially the _Dutch_ authors, have been upon his
back; _Homer_ was the first that attack’d him for justifying
_Almanzor_’s idle rants and monstrous actions by the precedent of
_Achilles_. The two poets, after a little squabbling, were without much
difficulty perswaded to let their two heroes fight out the quarrel for
them, but the nimble-heel’d _Græcian_ soon got the whip-hand of the
furious _Almanzor_, and made him beg pardon. _Horace_ too grumbled a
little in his gizzard at him for affirming _Juvenal_ to be a better
satirist than himself; but upon second thoughts thought it not worth his
while to contest the point with him. Once it happen’d, that Mr. _Bays_
came into our room when _Petronius Arbiter_ was diverting us with a very
fine _nouvelle_. Mons. _Fontaine_, Sir _Philip Sidney_, Mr. _Waller_, my
late lord _Rochester_, with Sir _Charles Sidley_, compos’d part of this
illustrious audience; when Mr. _Dryden_ unluckily spoil’d all by asking
the latter, what the facetious gentleman’s name was, that talk’d so
agreeably? How, says Sir _Charles Sidley_, hadst thou the impudence, in
the preface before thy _English Juvenal_, to say, that so soon as the
pretended _Belgrade_ supplement of _Petronius_’s fragments came into
_England_, thou couldst tell upon reading but two lines of that edition,
whether it was genuine or no; and here hast thou heard the noble author
himself talk above an hour by the clock, and could not find him out?
Upon this the old bard retired in some disorder; but what happened to
him a day or two after was more mortifying.
_Chaucer_ meets him in one of our coffee-houses, and after the usual
ceremonies were over between two strangers of their wit and learning,
thus accosts him. Sir, cries _Chaucer_, you have done me a wonderful
honour to furbish up some of my old musty tales, and bestow modern
garniture upon them, and I look upon myself much obliged to you for so
undeserved a favour; however, Sir, I must take the freedom to tell you,
that you over-strain’d matters a little, when you liken’d me to _Ovid_,
as to our wit and manner of versification. Why, Sir, says Mr. _Dryden_,
I maintain it, and who then dares be so saucy as to oppose me? But under
favour, Sir, cries the other, I think I should know _Ovid_ pretty well,
having now convers’d with him almost three hundred years, and the
devil’s in it if I don’t know my own talent, and therefore tho’ you pass
a mighty compliment upon me in drawing this parallel between us, yet I
tell you there is no more resemblance between us, as to our manner of
writing, than there is between a jolly well-complexion’d _Englishman_
and a black-hair’d thin-gutted _Italian_. Lord, Sir, says _Dryden_ to
him, I tell you that you’re mistaken, and your two styles are as like
one another as two Exchequer tallies. But I, who should know it better,
says _Chaucer_, tell you the contrary. And I, say Mr. _Bays_, who know
these things better than you, and all the men in the world, will stand
by what I have affirm’d, and upon that gave him the lye. _Rhadamanthus_,
who is one of _Pluto_’s oldest judges and a severe regulator of good
manners and conversation, immediately sent for our friend _John_ to
appear in court; and after he had severely reprimanded him for using
such insufferable language upon no provocation; for your punishment,
says he, I command you to get Sir _Richard Blackmore_’s translation of
_Job_ by heart, and to repeat ten pages of it to our friend the author
of the _Rehearsal_ every morning. Poor _Bays_ desired his lordship to
mitigate so rash a sentence, and by way of commutation frankly offer’d
to drink so many quarts of liquid sulphur every morning. No, says my
lord judge, tho’ they commute penances in _Doctors-Commons_, yet we are
not such rogues to commute them in hell, and so I expect to be obey’d.
Thus _Gentlemen_, you see we observe a severe justice among us, and
indeed to deliver my thoughts impartially, I must needs say, that equity
is administer’d after a fairer and more compendious manner in these
dominions, than either in your _Westminster-Hall_, or your palace at
_Paris_, where _Astræa_ pretends to carry all before her, yet has as
little to do in either of those two places, as a farrier at _Venice_. A
signal instance of this we have had in a late famous tryal. A
foot-soldier of the first regiment of guards, and a _Drury-lane_ whore,
were summon’d to appear before judge _Minos_, who after he had, with a
great deal of patience, heard the crimes that were alledg’d against
them, asked them what they had to offer in favour of themselves, why
sentence of damnation should not pass? the young harlot, either replying
upon the merits of her face, which she foolishly imagin’d would bring
her off here, as it had often done in your world, or else being
naturally furnish’d with a greater stock of impudence than the soldier,
broke thro’ the crowd, and thus address’d herself to the court: I hope
your lordship, says she, will take no advantage of a poor woman’s
ignorance, who ought to have learned counsel to plead for her; however,
I depend so much upon the justice of my cause, that I will undertake it
my self. The chief argument I insist upon, my lord, is this: I think it
highly unreasonable that I should suffer a-new for my crimes in this
world, having done sufficient penance for them in the other. By my
aunt’s consent and privity, I was sold to an old libidinous lord, and
debauch’d by him before I was fourteen; the noble peer kept me some four
months; then took occasion to pick a quarrel with me, and set me a drift
in the wide world, to steer my course as fortune should direct me. In
this exigence I was forc’d to apply my self to a venerable old matron,
who finding me young and handsome, took me into her service, shamm’d me
upon her customers for a baronet’s daughter of the _North_, and much I
was made of, and courted like a little queen; but, my lord, our
profession is directly opposite to all others, for too much custom
breaks us. In short, an officer in the army, whom _Pluto_ rewarded for
his pains, taught me what _Fortune de la guerre_ meant, so that I was
very fairly salivated before fifteen. Having got a little knowledge of
the world under this old matron’s directions, who went more than halves
with me in every bargain, I thought it high time to trade for my self,
and told her one morning, that I was resolved to expose myself no longer
in her house. What you please as for that, replies this antient
gentlewoman, but first, my dear child, let us come to a fair account to
see how the land lies between us. Then stepping into the next room she
shew’d me a deal-board all be-scrawl’d with round o’s and cart-wheels in
ungodly chalk; then clapping on her spectacles, let me see, cries she,
for lodging, diet, washing, cloaths, linen, physick, _&c._ you owe me
ten pounds, (which came up within a few transitory shillings of what I
had earned in her house) and this you must pay, sweetheart, before you
talk of parting. ’Twas in vain to complain of her extortion, for besides
that she pleaded perscription for it, her arithmetick was infallible,
and she judg’d for her self _en dernier ressort_. Thus I was turn’d out
of doors, but having in the interim, while I stay’d here, contracted a
small acquaintance with a sister of the quill that lodg’d in
_Covent-Garden_, I repaired to her quarters, and continu’d with her.
Between us, my lord, we acted the story of _Castor_ and _Pollux_, that
is, we were never visible together, but when she appeared above the
horizon, ’twas bed-time with me; and when she kept her bed, ’twas my
time to shine at the play-house. When either of us went abroad, we made
a fine show enough, but then we gratify’d our backs at the expence of
our bellies; cow-heel, tripe, a few eggs, or sprats, were our constant
regale at home, and upon holidays a chop of mutton roasted upon a
packthread in the chimney; and many a time when my sister and I wore
silver-lac’d shoes our stockings wanted feet. I should trespass too much
upon your lordship’s patience, to tell you how I have been forc’d to
shift my name as well as my quarters, to submit to the nauseous embraces
of every drunken tobacco-taking sot, that had half a crown in his pocket
to purchase me; and when I have been arrested for a milk-score not
exceeding the terrible sum of four shillings, to let an ill-look’d dog
of a _Moabite_ enjoy me upon a founder’d chair in a spunging-house to
procure my liberty. To this I should add, what unmerciful contributions
I was forc’d out of my small revenue to pay to the conniving justices
clerks, the constable, the beadle, the tallyman, but especially to those
rascals the _Reformers_, whose business is not to convert, but only lay
a heavier tax upon poor sinners, and make iniquity shift its habitation
oftener than otherwise it would, I should never have done. In short, our
condition, my lord is like a frontier people that live between two
mighty monarchies, oppress’d, squeez’d, and plunder’d on all sides. By
that time I was one and twenty, I could number more diseases than years,
smoak and swear like a grenadier; and last _Bartholomew fair_, having
made a debauch in stumm’d claret and Dr. _Stevens_’s water, with an
attorney’s clerk, a fever seiz’d me next morning, and tript up my heels
in three days. How I was buried, that is to say, whether by the
contributions of the sister-hood or at the charge of the parish, I
cannot tell; but this, my lord, is a short and faithful account of my
life, and now I submit myself to the justice of this honourable court. I
will not pretend to vindicate my profession, but this I may venture to
affirm, that the world cannot live without us, and that a whore in the
business of love, is like farthings in the business of trade, which
(tho’ they are not the legal coin of the nation) ought to be allow’d and
tolerated, if it were only for the conveniency of ready change. Well,
says my lord, since ’tis so, and your calling expos’d you to so much
suffering, I hope you made your gallants pay for it? That you may be
sure I did, answers our damsel, I sold my maidenhead to fifteen several
customers, by the same token seven of them were _Jews_, and it pleases
me to think how I cheated those loggerheads in their own _Mosaical_
indications. I never parted with any of my favours, nay, not so much as
a clap _gratis_, except a lieutenant and ensign whom once I admitted
upon trust, by the same token they built a sconce, and left me in the
lurch. I always took care to secure my money first; tho’ those
ungracious vipers of the army would rifle me now and then in spite of
all my precaution: for my lord, we whores are like the sea, what we gain
in one place we lose in another. Take her away, says my lord _Minos_,
take her away, see her fairly dipt every morning for this twelvemonth
over head and ears in good wholesome brimstone: to be both merchant and
merchandize, to sell her self for money and yet expect pleasure for it,
is worse exaction than was ever practised in _Lombard-street_ or
_Cornhil_.
Our _Drury-lane_ nymph was no sooner carried off, but the soldier
advanced forward, and thus told his tale: My lord, you are not to expect
a fine speech from me, I am a soldier, and we soldiers are men of
action, and not of words. I was a barber’s prentice in the _strand_,
liv’d with him five years, got his maid with child, beat his wife for
pretending to reprove me, had run on score at all the painted lattices
in the neighbour-hood, and my circumstances being such, was easily
persuaded to turn gentleman-soldier. My captain promis’d to make me a
serjeant the very moment after I was listed, but he serv’d me just as he
did his creditors, whom, to my certain knowledge, he left in the lurch.
Well, my lord, I follow’d him to _Flanders_, where I stood buff to death
and damnation four campaigns, sometimes for a groat, sometimes for
nothing a-day. Had I more sins to answer for than either the colonel or
agent of our regiment, I have bustled thro’ misery enough to wipe out
all my scores, curtail’d of my pay to keep a double-chinn’d chaplain,
who never preach’d among us, and maintain an hospital, where I could
never expect to be admitted without bribery; forc’d for want of
subsistence to steal offal, which an hungry dog would piss upon, and if
discover’d sure to be rewarded with the wooden-horse, and lest the
unweildy beast shou’d throw me, secur’d by a brace of musquets dangling
on my heels; to lie up to the chin in water for preventing of
rheumatisms, and smoak wholesome dock-leaves to prevent being dunn’d by
my stomach; drubb’d and can’d without any provocation, by a smooth-fac’d
prig, who t’other day was a pimp, or something worse to a nobleman;
never sure of one hour’s rest in the night, never certain of a meal’s
meat in the day; harass’d with perpetual marches and counter marches;
roasted all the summer, and frozen all the winter; cheated by my
officer, cuckolded by my comrades. These, my lord, were the blessings of
my life, and if ever I could muster up pence enough to purchase a single
pint of _Geneva_, I thought myself in my kingdom. Last summer I was one
of the noble adventurers that went in the expedition to _Cadiz_, and
having secur’d a little linen to myself at _Fort St. Mary_’s in order to
make me a few shirts when I came home, and rubb’d off with two
insignificant silver puppets (I think they call them saints) out of a
church, the superior commander seiz’d upon them for his own private use,
in her majesty’s name, and legally plunder’d me of what I had as legally
stolen from the enemy. This and a thousand other disappointments,
together with change of climates and other inconveniences, threw such a
damp upon my spirits, that within three days after I landed at
_Portsmouth_, I fell ill, and was glad to part with a wretched life,
which had given me so much vexation and so little satisfaction. Thus my
lord, I have honestly laid all before you, so let the court sentence me
as they please. Why really, says the judge, thy case is hard enough, and
I must needs say thou dost not want any new weight to be laid upon thee;
and so immediately acquitted him, ordering him to be set at liberty
without paying of fees.
Finding justice impartially administered in _Hell_, you may perhaps have
the curiosity, gentlemen, to enquire what sort of reception my lord
_Double_ of _Turn-about-hall_ found among us upon his arrival into these
dominions. I must tell you then, that to the universal admiration of our
infernal world, my lord is become _Pluto_’s great favourite, so that
nothing almost is transacted here without his advice and direction.
Every body indeed expected, that his lordship who changed his religion
on purpose to delude the unhappy prince, whose prime confident he was,
and at the same time kept a private correspondence with his enemy in
_Holland_, would have found an entertainment suitable to his deserts,
been loaded with chains, and regaled with liquid sulphur; but hitherto
he has either had the good luck, or management, to avoid it. A sudden
gust of wind had blown away the fan from the top of _Pluto_’s kitchin,
that very afternoon he came here. Our monarch was first in the mind to
clap his lordship’s breech upon the iron-spike, and make a weathercock
of him (the only thing he was fit for) that with every whiff of
brimstone he might tell where damnation sate. Soon after he was of
opinion to make a light-match of him to use upon occasion, whenever he
had any empire or kingdom to blow up. But at last carefully considering
his face, and the majesty of his gate, he made him his taylor, and to
say the truth, nobody knows the dimensions of his _Luciferian_ majesty
better than his lordship: and as it often happens in your world for
noblemen to be govern’d by their taylors or peruke-makers, so my lord in
his present capacity of taylor orders every thing at court, puts in and
displaces whom he pleases, and possesses _Pluto_’s ear to that degree,
that happening to be in company last week with _Aaron Smith_, Col.
_Wildman_, _Slingsby Bethel_, _C--rn--sh_, and others of the same
kidney, who heartily wish the prosperity of old _Hell_, they gravely
shook their heads, and said they were afraid their master _Pluto_’s
government would not long continue, since he had got a viper in his
bosom, and a traytor in his cabinet, who would not fail to conjure up
some neighbouring prince against him to dispossess him of his antient
throne. Indeed ’tis prodigious to consider how this dissembler has
wriggled himself into the good opinion not only of our sovereign, but
even of queen _Proserpine_. About a month ago he had interest enough to
get my late lord _Sh--ft--ry_, released out of the dungeon, where he has
been confined ever since his coming here, and made him administrator of
the _Clyster-Pipe_ to _Pluto_, for this merry reason, because he had
always a good hand at _striking at fundamentals_. That old libidinous
civilian of the _Commons_, Dr. _Littleton_, he has made judge admiral of
the _Stygian_ lake, and the famous Mr. _Alsop_, who wished in his
address to king _James_, that the dissenters had casements to their
breasts, he has got to be the devil’s glazier; nay, what will more
surprize you, he has procur’d the reversion of master of _Pluto_’s rough
game, when it falls, for Dr. _Oates_; and obtain’d a promise of
candle-snuffer-general to all the gaming-houses in these quarters, for
honest _George Porter_ the evidence.
_The Remainder of my Catalogue of_ CURES.
_Timothy Addlepate_, of _Cheapside_, _Milliner_, was so wonderfully
afflicted with the _Zelotypia Italica_, that he constantly lock’d up his
simpering red-hair’d spouse, when business call’d him abroad, and would
hardly trust her with her aunt or grandmother. By rectifying his
constitution with my true _Covent-Garden_ ELIXIR, he is so intirely
cured of the _Icterus Martialis_, or his old _yellow distemper_ that now
of his own accord he carries her to the play-house, sends her to all the
balls, masquerades, and merry meetings in town; nay, trusts her alone at
_Epsom-Wells_ and _Richmond_, and will let her sit a whole afternoon
with a gay smooth-fac’d officer of the guards at the tavern, and is
never disturbed at it.
_Jethro Lumm_, at the sign of the _Blue-ball_ and _Spotted-horse_,
between a _Cheesemonger_’s and _Perfumer_’s shops in
_Ratcliff-high-way_, by taking a few doses of my _Pulvis Vermifugus_, or
my _Antiverminous Powder_, voided above 30000 worms of all sorts, as
your _Ascarides_, _Teretes_, _Hirudines_, and so forth, in the space of
12 hours, one of which, by modest computation, was supposed long enough
to reach from St. _Leonard’s Shoreditch_, to _Tottenham high cross_. I
confess my medicine is a little bitter; but what says the learned
_Arabian_ philosopher _Hamet Ben Hamet Ben Haddu Albumazar_, A diadem
will not cure the _Apoplexy_, nor a velvet slipper the _Gout_: And are
not all the Antients as well as Neotorics agreed, that _raro corpus sine
vermibus_. Therefore, my good friends, be advis’d in time.
_Ezekiel Driver_ of _Puddle-dock_, Carman, having disordered his _Pia
mater_ with too plentiful a morning’s draught of _three-threads_ and
_old Pharaoh_, had the misfortune to have his car run over him. The
whole street concluded him as good as dead, and the over-forward clerk
of the parish had already set him down in the weekly-bills. Two
applications of my _Unguentum Traumaticum_ set him immediately to
rights, and now he is coachman in ordinary to a Tallyman’s fat widow in
_Soho_. Witness his hand _E. D._
_Elnathan Ogle_, Anabaptist-teacher in _Morefields_ over-against the
_Grasshopper_ and _Greyhound_, for want of being carefully rubb’d down
by the pious females after his sudorifick exercise, had got the grease
in his heels, and was so violently troubled with rheumatical pains, that
he was no longer able to lay out himself for the benefit of his
congregation. My _Emplastrum Anodynum_ so effectually reliev’d him by
twice using of it, that he has since shifted his profession, teaches the
youth of _Finsbury-fields_ to play at back-sword and quarter-staff, and
has turn’d his conventicle in-for a fencing-school.
_Marmaduke Thummington_, at the _Red-cow_ and _3 Travellers_ in
_Barbican_, was possess’d with an obstreperous ill condition’d devil of
a wife, whose everlasting clack incessantly thundering in his ears, had
made him as deaf as a drum. His case was so lamentable, that a
demiculverin shot over his head affected him no more than it would a man
20 miles off; he was insensible to all the betting and swearing of the
loudest cock-match, that ever was fought by two contending counties;
nay, at one of Mr. _Bays_’s fighting plays, would sit you as
unconcern’d, as if he had been at a Quakers silent meeting. After all
your _Elmys_, and other pretenders had despair’d of him, I undertook his
cure, and with a few of my _Otacoustical_ drops have so intirely
recover’d him, that the society of Reformers have made him their chief
director, and his hearing is so strangely improved, that at an
eaves-dropping at a window, he can hear oaths that were never sworn, and
bawdy that was never spoke.
_Richard Bentlesworth_, superintendent of a small grammar-elaboratory,
in the out-skirts of the town, was so monstrously over-run with the
_Scorbuticum Pedanticum_, that he used to dumfound his milk-woman with
strange stories of _gerunds_ and _participles_; would decline you
_domus_ in a cellar in the _Strand_ before a parcel of chimney-sweepers,
and confute _Schioppius_ and _Alvarez_ to the old wall-ey’d matron, that
sold him grey pease. Tho’ this strange distemper, when once it has got
full possession of a man, is as hard to be cured as an hereditary-pox,
yet I have absolutely recovered him; so that now he troubles the publick
no more with any of his _Dutch-Latin_ dissertations; but is as quiet an
author as ever was neglected by all the town, or buried in
_Little-Britain_.
_Timothy Gimcrack_, doctor of the noble cockle-shell-fraternity, whose
philosophy and learning lay so much under ground, that he had nothing of
either to show above it, used to be troubled with strange unaccountable
fits, and during the _paroxism_, would contrive new worlds, as boys
build houses of cards, find a thousand faults with old _Moses_, make a
hasty pudding of the universe, and drown it in a _Menstruum_ of his own
inventing, and leave the best patient in the city, for a new gay-coated
butterfly. I took out his brains, washed them in my _Aqua
Intellectualis_, and if has since relaps’d, who may he thank, but his
cursed _East-India_ correspondent, who addled his understanding a-new,
with sending him the furniture of a _Chinese_ barber’s-shop.
_Nehemiah Drowsy_, grocer and deputy of his ward, was so prodigiously
afflicted with a lethargy, that his whole life was little better than a
dream. He would sleep even while he was giving the account of his own
pedigree, how from leathern breeches and nothing in them, he came to
the vast fortune he now possesses. Nay, over the pious spouse of his
bosom he has been often found asleep in an exercise which keeps all
other mortals awake. By following my sage directions he’s so wonderfully
alter’d for the better, that after a full dinner of roast-beef and
pudding he can listen to a dull sermon at _Salters-Hall_, without so
much as one yawn; nay, can hear his apprentice read two entire pages of
_Wesley_’s heroic poem, and never makes a nod all the while.
_The End of my Catalogue of_ CURES.
But to come to affairs of a more publick concern, we are in a strange
ferment here about the divided interests of the houses of _Austria_ and
_Bourbon_. Our master following herein the policy of the _Jesuits_, or
rather they following him, for we ought to give the devil his due, seems
to incline most to the latter: however, if the _Spaniards_ and _French_
set up their horses no better in your world than they do with us, ’tis
easy to predict that the unnatural conjuction of the two kingdoms will
be soon shatter’d to pieces. Whenever they meet, there’s such roaring
and swearing, and calling of names between them, that we expect every
minute when they will go to loggerheads. ’Tis true some few of the dons
that are lately arriv’d here, call’d _Lewis-le-Grand_ their protector,
and are _Frenchify’d_ to a strange degree; but the rest of their
countrymen call them a parcel of degenerate rascals, and are so
violently bent against them, that unless _Pluto_ lock’d them up a nights
in distinct apartments, we should have the devil and all to do with
them.
Next to the affairs of _France_ and _Spain_, are we concerned about the
fate of the occasional bill; a few old fashion’d virtuosos among us hope
it will pass, but the generality of our politicians, and particularly
those belonging to _Pluto_’s cabinet, who are stiled the congregation
_de inferno ampliando_, are resolv’d at any rate to hinder its taking
effect. As hypocrisy sends greater numbers to hell, than any other sins
whatever, you are not to wonder if the ministry here do all they can to
oppose the passing of a bill, which will prove so destructive to the
infernal interest by destroying hypocrisy. For which reason _Pluto_ has
lately dispatch’d several trusty emissaries to your parts, who are to
bribe your observators and other mercenary pamphleteers, to raise a
hedious outcry about persecution, and represent this design in such
odious colours to the people, that, if posible, it may miscarry. A
little time will show us the success of this refin’d conduct.
One short story, gentlemen, and then I have done. A _Spaniard_ last week
was commending the authors of his own country, and particularly enlarg’d
upon the merits of the voluminous long-winded _Tostatus_, who, he said,
had writ above a cart-load of books in his time. But why should I talk
of a cart-load, continues he, when he has writ more than ’tis possible
for any one single man to read over in his life? judge then of the worth
of this indefatigable _Tostatus_; judge how many tedious nights and days
he must have spent in study. Under favour, cries an _English_ gentleman
lately arrived here, we have a writer that much exceeds your famous
_Tostatus_, even in that respect. His name is _Bentivoglio_, and tho’ at
present he falls somewhat short of your author, as to the number of
books of his own composing, yet he has writ one octavo, which I’ll defy
any man in the universe to read over, tho’ he has the patience of _Job_,
the constitution of _Sampson_, and the long age of _Methuselah_.
But hold--I forget who I am writing to all this while; gentlemen that
have either more business or pleasure upon their hands, than to go thro’
the tedious persecution of so unmerciful a letter. However, I hope
you’ll pardon me this fault, if you consider the great difficulty of
transmitting the _nouvelles_ of our subterranean world to your parts;
for which reason I was resolv’d rather to trespass upon your patience,
than lose this opportunity of giving you an account of all our memorable
transactions. If in requital of this small trouble I have given myself,
you will be so kind as to order any one of your society, to inform me
how affairs go at present in _Covent-Garden_, at St. _James_’s &c. what
news the dramatick world affords in _Drury-lane_, _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_,
and _Smithfield_, as ’twill be the most sensible obligation you can lay
upon me, so it shall be remember’d with the utmost gratitude by,
_Gentlemen, Your most obedient Servant_,
GIUSIPPE HANESIO.
[Illustration]
CERTAMEN EPISTOLARE,
Between an _Attorney_ of _Cliffords-Inn_ and a dead _Parson_. By Mr. T.
BROWN.
The ARGUMENT.
_A fellow of a college came up to town about business; which
detaining him there much longer than he expected, he was forc’d to
borrow five pounds of his landlady, a widow in_ Shoe-lane, _and
promis’d to pay her within a month. At his return to_ Cambridge, _a
living in_ Lincolnshire _fell vacant, and the_ College _presented
him to it. On the day of his institution he drank so plentifully
with his parishioners, that he fell sick of a fever, which
dispatch’d him in a few days. All this while the widow wonder’d
what was become of the gentleman; and after several months
forbearance, having no news of him, employ’d an_ Attorney _of_
Clifford’s-Inn _to write to him for the five pounds. The letter
coming to the_ College _some eight months after our_ Parson_’s
decease, a gentleman of the same house had the curiosity to open
it; and to carry on the frolick, answer’d it in the name of the
dead man, which gave occasion to the following commerce_.
LETTER I.
_To Mr.---- at his Chambers in---- College in_ Cambridge.
_SIR_,
_Ingatum fi dixere omnia dixeris_, was the saying of one of the greatest
sages of antiquity; to whose name and merits I presume you can be no
stranger. _Perit quod facias ingrato_, was likewise the saying of
another _Græcian_ philosopher, as you will find in _Erasmus_’s adagies.
_Save a thief from the gallows and he’ll cut your throat_, is a proverb
of our own growth; and we have a thousand instances in antient and
modern history to confirm the truth of it.
Indeed ingratitude is so monstrous and execrable a vice, that, according
to the _Roman_ orator’s observation (I need not tell you, that when I
say the _Roman_ orator, I always mean _Tully_) the very earth itself,
the _bruta tellus_, as _Horace_ deservedly calls it, is a standing
testimony against all ungrateful men, and rises up in judgment against
them. For does not this earth, the vilest of the four elements, make
grateful returns to the husbandman for the little cost and pains he
bestows upon her? Does she not sometimes give thirty, sometimes twenty,
and at least ten measures of corn for the one he entrusted her with?
Whereas an ungrateful wretch is so far from doubling or trebling a
kindness done to him, that ’tis next door to a miracle, if he can be
brought to give back the principal.
And now, Sir, you’ll ask me, I suppose, what I mean by declaming thus
againgst ingratitude, any more than simony or sacrilege, or any other
sin whatever; and particularly how this comes to affect you? Why, Sir,
don’t be so hasty, I beseech you, and you’ll soon be satisfied.
You must understand me then, that one Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_, widow,
who lives at the sign of the _Griffin_ in _Shoe-lane_, (I suppose, Sir,
somebody’s conscience begins to fly in his face by this time) told me,
that a certain gentleman of _Cambridge_, who very much resembles you in
name, face, and person, (and now Sir, I humbly conceive that somebody
that shall be nameless blushes) borrow’d of her upon the first of
_April_, 1698, in the tenth year of his majesty king _William_’s reign,
the sum of five pounds, (well Sir, let him blush on, for blushing is a
sign of grace) which he promis’d to repay her _in verbo sacerdotis_,
within a month after, (good Lord! to see how canonically some people can
break their words) upon the word of a gentleman, as he was a christian,
and all that. But mind what follows, Sir. This worthy gentleman, I told
you of, altho’ he was bound to the performance of his promise by all
that was good and sacred; and if good and sacred would not bind him, by
a note under his own hand, wherein he promis’d to pay to Mrs. _Rebecca
Blackman_, widow, or order, the aforesaid sum of five pounds upon
demand; nevertheless, and notwithstanding all this, he has not had the
manners so much as to send her a letter to excuse himself for this
delay, and takes no more notice of her, than if he had never seen any
such person as Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_ in all his life.
She being therefore my antient acquaintance and friend, and one for whom
I profess to have a very great value, desir’d me to write a few lines to
you, which accordingly I have done, and by her order I request you, as
being a person of great civility and candour, to tell the aforesaid
gentleman, (whom as I am informed you may see every morning in the year,
if you have a looking-glass in your room, which I will in charity
suppose) that she expects to have the five pounds _supradict_ within a
fortnight at farthest, and then all will be well: otherwise she must be
forc’d, in her own defence, to employ the secular arm, _anglicè_, a
baliff or catchpole, and put the abovemention’d person into lobb’s
pound.
Now, Sir, having a great regard to mother university, (of which I might
have been an unworthy member, had not my uncle----) and likwise being
desirous to prevent farther effusion of christian money, I make it my
humble request to you to speak to the aforesaid gentleman, that he would
send me the sum of five pounds with all expedition; and in so doing you
will in a most particular manner oblige,
_Sir_,
_Your most humble tho’
unknown Servant_,
W. H.
From my Chambers
in _Clifford_’s-Inn.
ANSWER I.
_To Mr._ W. H. _Attorney at Law, at his Chambers in_ Clifford’_s-Inn_
_Worthy Sir_,
Yesterday morning, about eight of the clock precisely, the sun being
newly entred into _Sagittarius_, and the wind standing at south-east by
east; which corner, as the learned abbot _Joachimus Trithemius_, in his
elaborate treatise, intitled, _Eurus Enucleatus_, tells us, is a
certain prognostick of droughts and hot weather; I was smoaking a pipe
of tobacco, and reading _Erasmus_’s _Moriæ Encomium_ of the _Basil_
edition, printed by _Frobenius_, who, you know, Sir, married
_Christopber Plantin_’s cook-maid, when to my great surprize, the
post-boy brought me a letter from one _W. H._ who pretends to date it
from his chambers in _Clifford_’s-Inn; tho’ as far as I can judge of the
beast by his stile and way of writing, he ought to have a room no where
but in the brick-house in _Moorfields_.
For, Sir, the author of it, and I desire you to tell him so much from
me, seems to rave, and in his raving fit disgorges old buckram
_Apophthegms_ and ends of _Latin_ stolen out of _Lycosthenes_; and in
short, at the expence of other folks, throws his thread-bare quotations
about him like a madman, as you will soon perceive, if you’ll give
yourself the trouble to read what follows.
I. This retainer to the law, Sir, begins his letter with _Ingratum si
dixere omnia dixere_; and has the impudence to tell me, that it was a
saying of one of the greatest sages of antiquity, as if a man were a jot
the wiser for his calling him so; and, like a presuming coxcomb as he
is, presumes I am no stranger to his name and merits. Pray, Sir, tell
him from me, that he has falsify’d his quotation; for which crime, by an
old statute of king _Ina_, as you will find in _Gothofred_ and
_Panormitanus_, he ought to do penance in a certain wooden machine,
call’d in _Latin_, _Collistrigium_, and in _English_ a _Pillory_; and
that in all the antient manuscripts both in the _Vatican_ and _Bodleian_
libraries, not to mention those of the duke of _Courland_, and the
prince of _Hesse-Darmstadt_, ’tis written, _Attornatum si dixeris, omnia
dixeris_; which is as much as to say, Sir, that if you call a man an
attorney, you call him all the rogues and rascals in the world.
II. Before I proceed any farther, I must beg the favour of you to inform
him, that we are much surpriz’d here to find an attorney guilty of so
much nonsense, as to send down _Latin_ to the university, where we have
more than we know well what to do with. ’Tis as bad as sending
_Derby_-ale from _Fullwood_’s-rents to the town of _Derby_, or sturgeon
to _Huntingdon_. In fine, as he has manag’d matters, ’tis downright
_murderium_ (he knows the meaning of that word) for which he must never
expect the benefit of the clergy.
To pass over his next idle quotation, and an old batter’d _English_
proverb; the next person he falls upon, is the _Roman_ orator; and with
his usual discretion, he gives me to understand that he means _Tully_ by
him. ’Tis well he tells us whom he means; for of all the men in the
world, I thought an attorney had as little to do with an orator, as a
bawd with an eunuch. But why should a fellow that never meant any thing
in his life, pretend to meaning? Or how came _Tully_ and such a
blockhead to be acquainted? Well, but _Tully_, he says, observes that
the earth itself, which, I hope by the bye, will one of these days stop
his pettifegging mouth, for calling it the vilest of the four elements,
is a standing testimony against ingratitude; and why forsooth, because
it returns the husbandman two for one. I can’t imagine how it should
come into this wretch’s head to rail at ingratitude, who is the most
ungrateful devil that ever liv’d; and ’tis ten to one but I prove it
before I have done with him. He is ungrateful in the first place to his
schoolmaster, for making no better use of the _Latin_ he wipp’d into
him. He is ungrateful to the _Common Law_, for polluting it which wicked
sentences purloin’d out of _Pagan_ authors: and lastly, he is ungrateful
to the _Inn_ he lives in, for dreaming seven whole years there to no
purpose, and continuing as great a blockhead as when he first come to
town.
Towards the conclusion of his letter, _you must understand_, says he,
_that one_--This he said to show his civility and good manners; _You
must understand_? Why suppose I won’t _understand_, how will he help
himself? Or what man alive can understand a fellow that murders his
thoughts between two languages? but I find I must _understand_ him right
or wrong. After this compliment, he tells me an idle foolish story of a
widow in _Shoe-lane_, and raves about five pounds, that I know nothing
of; and is so full of it that a few lines below he calls it the sum
_supradict_. I shall take another opportunity to knock this impertinent
tale on the head, and shall only desire you at present to acquaint this
_W. H._ from me, that when he has answer’d this letter, I design to give
him satisfaction in his other points. In the mean time, unknown Sir, I
am as the _Roman_ orator has it,
_Tuus ab ovo usque ad mala_,
Q. Z.
LETTER II.
_SIR_,
I don’t know what plenty of _Latin_ you may have in the _University_;
tho’, by the bye, I can hardly believe you are so overstock’d with it as
you pretend; but I dare swear that _good manners_ are very scarce things
among you, and your letter sufficiently demonstrates it.
You are angry with me, it seems, for quoting a few _Latin_ sentences; I
am afraid ’tis the meaning of them, and not the language that disgusts
you; for some people can’t endure to hear the truth told them in any
tongue whatever: but, under favour, _Sir_, what mighty virtue should
there be in the air of _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_, that _Latin_ should
only flourish there? Or why should not _Tully_ take up his quarters in
the _Inns_ of _Chancery_, as well as one of your _Colleges_? I am sure
we can give him better meat and drink, and perhaps have cleaner and
larger rooms to entertain him.
_Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora_ POENI,
_Nec tam aversus equoss TYRIA sol jungit ab urbe_.
The meaning of these two verses are, (for why should not I interpret my
_Latin_ to you, as well as you have taken the freedom to explain your’s
to me?) that _London_ is not so barbarous and unpolish’d a place, but
that _Apollo_, and the nine _Muses_ may find as hospitable a reception
there, as with you in the university.
But, _Sir_, I have no time to lose, tho’ you have. The widow is pressing
for her money, the _Term_ draws on apace, and I must know your answer
one way or other. Therefore let me desire you in your next, not to
ramble from the point in hand, but to keep to the text. Once in your
life take _Martial_’s advice, _Dic aliquid de tribus capellis_; here’s
_Latin_ for you again; but the advice is good and seasonable. Once more
leave off flourishing and come immediately to business, that I may know
what measures to take.
_I am,
Yours, as you use me_,
W.H.
ANSWER II.
_SIR_,
You charge me with want of manners in the _University_. Now to convince
you that your accusation is groundless, frivolous and vexatious, I will
take no notice of the scurrilous reflections in your letter, but, as you
desire me, fall immediately to business.
To sum them up in a few lines what you have bestow’d so many upon, you
tell me that a certain gentleman of my acquaintance, meaning myself, I
suppose, whom in your excess of charity, you believe to have a
looking-glass in his chamber, and a great deal of the like stuff,
borrow’d five pounds last _April_ of one _Rebecca Blackman_, widow, and
spinster, living at the sign of the _Griffin_ and _Red-lion_ in
_Shoe-lane_, and has not paid her as he promis’d. Now, _Sir_, if I make
it appear to you that there is no such a thing as a widow _in rerum
natura_, or a _Griffin_, or a _Red-lion_; that _Shoe-lane_ is an
equivocal word; and that ’tis impossible for a man that lives under the
evangelical dispensation to owe any such _heathenish sum_ as five
pounds; I hope you’ll be brought to knock under the table, and own that
you have given me and yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble.
_First of all_, I affirm, assert and maintain, that there is no such
thing as a widow in the universe; and thus I prove it. A _widow_ is one
that laments and grieves for the loss of her husband; but how can you or
any man in _London_ know that a woman really grieves? for shedding of
tears, and wearing of crape, are not sure signs of grief; consequently
then how can you be sure there is any such thing as a widow? And if so,
are not you an insufferable coxcomb to palm a widow upon a stranger,
that never did you any harm? Well, but suppose it were possible for a
man to know that a woman really grieves for the loss of her husband,
which proposition, let me tell you, _Heroboord Burgersdicius_, and the
whole stream of the _Dutch_ commentators and _Peleponnesian_ divines
positively deny; how shall we be able to find out this monster, and tell
where the place of her abode is? Why, say you, she lives at the sign of
the _Griffin_ and _Red Lion_ in _Shoe-lane_? Bless us! what a sad thing
it is to be troubled with a distemper’d brain! _Imprimis_, a _Griffin_
is a new _ens rationis_, only devis’d by the imagination, and is no
where to be found, no not in the deserts of _Arabia_, or the vast
forests of _Afric_; altho’ _Afric_, Sir, ever since the time of
_Eratosthenes_ and _Strabo_, has been said continually to produce some
new monster: and as for a _Red Lion_, I defy you and all the attornies
in the kingdom to shew me one. _Theophrastus_, _Ælian_, _Dionysius_,
_Harmogistus de miraculis_, _Perogunius de brutis_, _Philopemen junior
de robusta natura_, and a hundred more of worth and credit, whom I have
read, and you never heard nam’d, either in _Westminster-hall_, or
_Westminster-abbey_. But since these are pagan authors, it may be you
will pretend they ought to have no weight with a christian, and I know
you will be damn’d before you will allow of any thing against your own
mammon; therefore I shall proceed to give you more modern accounts of
what has been remark’d in the most natural places for to expect monsters
in, and yet the devil of a _Red Lion_ do they mention. _Don Gonsales_
gives us a particular of all the wonders, miracles and strange things in
the habitable part of the moon; _Mandevil_’s _Travels_, _Piuto_’s and
_de la Val_’s, the most fabulous of the poets, the most lying pilgrims
and extravagant historians, never dar’d to have the impudence to impose
so much upon mankind as to assert the being of a _Red Lion_.
Now if human reason, experience in so many places, and no proof any
where can have place, as it ought to do with a lawyer, I hope here are
enough to convince you of your error; but if nothing under ocular
demonstration will satisfy you, and you are not at leisure to turn over
so many volumes, let me request you, worthy Sir, to take a step to the
tower, and if you don’t find what I say to be true, I promise you here
under my hand to give you a hundred pounds, _bonæ & legalis monetæ
Angliæ_, the next time I meet you.
However, for peace sake, let us once admit, that _Griffins_ and _Red
Lions_, are real things, and no fictions of the brain, as _Smeglesius_
hath evidently prov’d it, in what street or square, or lane, or alley,
is the abovemention’d Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_ to be found? Oh, cry you
in _Shoe-lane_. Come Sir, _Shoe-lane_ is a fallacy which you must not
pretend to put upon a man that has taken his own degrees, and writes
himself _A. M._ don’t you know, that _dolus latet in universalibus_?
Whatever lane people walk in they must certaintly wear out shoe-leather;
and in whatever lane they wear out shoe-leather, that lane, in propriety
of speech, deserves and may challenge the name of _Shoe-lane_;
consequently then, every lane, not only in _London_, but in all his
majesty’s dominions, where the subjects of _England_ walk, and wear out
shoe-leather, may properly be call’d _Shoe-lane_. Judge then whether
ever I shall be able to find out the true place where this widow lives
by the equivocal description you have given of it. As for my _Major_, I
defy you or any of your brethren in wicked parchment, to find out the
least hole in it. My _Minor_ is as plain as the sun at noon-day; and you
may as well run your head against a brick-wall, as pretend to attack it;
and then the consequence must be good of course. I would take this
opportunity to shew the falshood and vanity of the remaining part of
your letter; but the bell-rings for supper: however, I shall take care
to do it next post; at which time you may certainly expect to hear
farther from
_Your most humble servant_, Q. Z.
ANSWER III.
I fully demonstrated to you in my last, that there was no such thing as
a _Widow_; or suppose there was, that it was morally impossible for a
man to know it. After this, I proceeded to show, that your _Griffin_ was
romantick, your _Red Lyon_ fabulous; and that _Shoe-lane_ by being every
lane, was consequently no lane at all. Now, _Sir_, I come to consider
the following part of your letter, where with your usual ingenuity and
good manners, you tell me I am indebted the sum of five pounds to the
widow abovemention’d; and I doubt not to lay open the vanity of this
allegation, as well as of those that preceded it. Sir, give me leave to
tell you, that ’tis impossible that--should owe any such sum as five
pounds. Is it to be imagin’d that a--should trespass against a plain
positive express text of scripture? This is what the worst of our
adversaries, either papists or other sectaries, of what title or
denomination soever, would not have the impudence to charge us with.
Does not St. _Paul_ positively say, _Owe no man any thing but love_? How
then can I owe this chimerical widow of your own making that heathenish
sum called five pounds? Indeed if there is any such person, I owe her a
great deal of love, as the text commands me; but as for five pounds, I
owe it her not: and for this, as I have already observ’d to you, I can
produce a plain positive text of scripture, which I hope you will not be
so wicked as to deny.
In short, _Sir_, I am afraid that the law has discompos’d your brain,
and this I conclude from your incoherent citations of _Latin_, your
raving of _Griffins_ and _Red Lions_, of _Widows_ and _five pounds_.
Therefore, tho’ I am wholly a stranger to you, yet, as you are a native
of this kingdom, I heartily wish your cure, and shall do whatever lies
in my power to effect it, for which reason I desire you to take notice
of the following advice. It being now spring time, at which season
according to the observation of the learned _Zarabella_ and
_Ciacconius_, the humours begin to ferment and float in all human
bodies, I would advise you to correct the saline particles, with which I
perceive your blood is overcharg’d, with good wholsome nettle-broth and
watergruel every morning alternately; but take care to put no currants
or sugar into your watergruel, because, as the judicious _Frenelius_, in
has _Diatriba de usu_, affirms, currants excite choler, and sugar has an
ill effect upon the diaphragm, glandula pinealis. Then, Sir, thrice a
week at least, refrigerate your intestines with good salutary clysters,
and take some eighteen ounces of blood away about two hours before the
clyster is administred to you. Above all let me conjure you to forbear
stuff’d beef, salt fish, pepper and hot spices, and what is full as
pernicious as pepper and hot spices, the reading of any _Latin_ authors,
for fear they should raise a new rebellion in the humours: sage and
butter, with a glass or two of clarify’d whey moderately taken in a
morning, may be of singular use. Go to bed early, and rise betimes. If
you live up to these directions, I do not doubt but you’ll be your own
man again in a little time. Having no farther interest in all this than
only effecting your cure, I persuade my self you will be so much your
own friend as to follow the advice of
_Your humble Servant_,
Q. Z.
LETTER III.
_SIR_,
Since you were so wonderfully kind in your last letter, as out of your
great liberality to honour me with some of your own directions, I am
resolv’d not to be behind-hand with you in point of courtesy, and
therefore recommend the following rules to your consideration.
In the first place, I crave leave to inform you, that syllogisms and
sophistry pay no debts; That as old birds are not to be caught with
chaff, so a lawyer is not to be imposed upon by thin frothy arguments;
and that _Aristotle_, let him make never so great a figure in the
schools, has no manner of authority in _Westminster-hall_, where I can
assure you they won’t take his _ipse dixit_ for a groat.
Secondly, I would advise you not to have so great an opinion of your own
parts, as to despise the rest of the world, and think to palm any of
your little banters upon them. ’Tis enough in all conscience, I think,
that you take the liberty to dumfound us with your _Fathers_ and
_Councils_ in the pulpit, which we of the laity are forced to take upon
content; and therefore you may spare them elsewhere.
Thirdly, and lastly, When you run in any one’s debt, ’tis my counsel,
and I give it you for nothing, that you would take care to see the party
satisfy’d in good current money, for fear a wicked _Moabite_ should
compel you to it, which, between friends, will not be much for your
reputation. As this is the last letter you are like to receive from me,
I make it once more my request to you to observe the contents of it: for
I am not at leisure to trifle any longer with you: otherwise a
stone-doublet is the word, and wars must ensue, which every good
christian ought to prevent, if it lies in his power. I am, unless you
give me further provocation,
_Your Humble Servant_, W. H.
P. S. _Your old friend the widow, is sorry to hear you have made so
familiar with her, as to call her being in question; as likewise that of
her_ Griffin _and_ Red Lion. _As for your love, having no occasion for
it at present, she desires you to bestow it elsewhere; but is resolv’d,
notwithstanding all your learned quirks and quiddities, to get her five
pounds again; and when she has it in her pocket, for your sake she’ll
never trust it with a logician, that would_ ergo _her out of what is her
own_.
ANSWER IV.
I received your last, for which I return you my hearty thanks, and am
entirely of your opinion, that old birds are not to be caught with
chaff; I find, Sir, you are a great admirer of old proverbs, and I
commend you for it, for a great deal of morality and wholsome knowledge
is to be pick’d out of them: besides, Sir, they are like the Common law
of _England_, and derive their authority from usage and custom. Now I am
talking of proverbs, there is one comes into my head at present, which I
desire you to ruminate or chew the cud upon. In short, ’tis _Birds of a
feather flock together_, which is effectually and literally fulfill’d
when an attorney and a pickpocket are in the same company.
I am likewise of opinion, worthy Sir, that what you say of _Aristotle_’s
making none of the best figures in _Westminster-hall_, may be true; for
how can that plodding animal call’d a philosopher, expect civil quarter
from the sons of noise and clamour? But by the by, Sir, I must take the
freedom to tell you, that some of his friends here take it very ill,
that you the black guard of _Westminster-hall_ will not take his word
for a groat. Sir, that diminutive contemptible piece of money a groat,
Sir, three of which go to the making up of that important sum,
denominated by the vulgar a shilling. Is it not very barbarous and
inhuman, that _Aristotle_, formerly tutor to the greatest monarch in the
universe, (when I say the greatest monarch in the universe, I neither
mean _Bajazet_, nor _Tamerlane_, nor _Scanderberg_, nor _Pipin_, nor yet
the _French_ king, but _Alexander the great_) whose _ipse dixit_ would
have formerly gone more current than our present _Exchequer_ notes, or
_Malt_ tickets, in any tavern, inn, or victualling-house, between the
_Hellespont_ and the _Ganges_, for a thousand pounds upon occasion: is
it not barbarous and inhuman, I say, that this same _Aristotle_ should
not be trusted for a groat in _Westminster-hall_? That language one
would hardly have expected either from _Goth_, _Vandal_, or _Hun_, but
much less from a person of your civility and learning.
But alas! Sir, _Ætas parentum pejor avis_; we live in the fag-end of a
most degenerate ungrateful age, that has no regard to _Greek_ or
_Latin_. _Oh tempora & mores!_ was the complaint of a great virtuoso two
thousand years ago, which we have but too much reason to renew now. Oh,
_Aristotle, Aristotle_! that I should ever live to see thy venerable
name in so much contempt, that any one belonging to _Westminster-hall_,
should have the impudence to say, he will not trust thee for a groat!
_Ultra Sauromatas fugere hinc libet._ I dare swear, that even in
_Muscovy_ and _Poland_, none of the most hospitable countries in the
world, thou mayst at any time take a good dinner and a gallon of brandy
upon thy _Entilechia_ and _Actus perspecui_, and yet in
_Westminster-Hall_, the most enlighten’d hall of the most enlighten’d
city of _Christendom_, thy _ipse dixit_ in so much vogue formerly with
the _Thomists_ and _Scotists_, the _Nominalists_ and _Realists_, should
not pass for a groat! So much, _Sir_, by way of answer, to _Aristotle_
and _Westminster-Hall_, _ipse dixit_, and a groat.
What you say in a following paragraph concerning the wicked _Moabite_
and the _Stone Doublet_, is very picquant and ingenious: for, Sir,
reading Mr. _Hobbs_’s chapter about _Concatenation of Thought_, I find
there is a great connection between the _Moabite_ and _Stone doublet_;
and some of the modern itineraries inform us, that stone doublets are in
mighty request with the people of those countries to this very day; and
the physical reason they assign for it, is, because stone doublets are
very refrigerating and alexpharmick, which undoubtedly is a great
refreshment in so hot a climate, as that where the wicked _Moabite_
lived.
But, _Sir_, in lieu of the advice, which, out of your great bounty and
liberality, you were pleas’d to give me for nothing, be pleas’d to
accept of the following character, which I give myself the trouble to
transcribe out of an ancient MS. in the _Cotton-Library_, suppos’d to be
written by the famous _Junius_, who for his great skill in the oriental
languages, acquir’d the sirname of _Patricius_; and this character,
unless I am mistaken in my mathematicks, will give you a lively idea of
a certain beast you may perhaps be acquainted with.
An attorney is one that lives by the undoing of his neighbours, as
surgeons do by broken heads and claps, and like judges that always bring
rain with them to the assizes, is sure to bring mischief with him
wherever he comes. He’s an animal bred up by the corruption of the law,
nurs’d up in discord and contention, and has a particular cant to
himself, by which he terrifies the poor country people who worship him
as the _Indians_ do the devil, for fear he should mischief ’em. He is a
constant resorter to fairs and markets, and has a knack to improve the
least quarrel into a law-suit. He talks as familiarly of my lord chief
justice as if he had known him from his cradle, and threatens all that
incur his displeasure with leading them a jaunt to _Westminster-hall_.
If his advice be ask’d upon the most insignificant trifle, he nods his
head, twirls his pen in his ear, and cries ’twill bear a noble action;
and when he has empty’d the poor wretch’s pocket, advises him to make up
the matter, drink a merry cup with his adversary, and be friends. He
affects to be thought a man of business, and quotes statutes as
fiercely, as if he had read over _Keble_ and got him by heart. The
catchpole is his constant companion, by the same token they are as
necessary to one another, as a midwife to a bawd, or an apothecary to a
grave physician. While he lives, he is a perpetual persecutor of all the
country about him; but fattens by being cursed, as they say camomile
grows by being trod upon. At last, the devil serves an execution upon
his person, hurries him to his own quarters, in whose clutches I leave
him.
If this character may be of any service to you, I shall heartily
rejoice, it being my highest ambition to approve my self,
_Your most_, &c. Q. Z.
ANSWER V.
Nay, _Sir_, since you are so peremptory and all that, I have sent you my
last conclusive answer, and am resolv’d to be plagu’d with you no
longer. Hoping therefore that your worship is in good health, as your
humble servant is at this present writing, this comes to let you know
(nay don’t startle, I beseech you) that I am fairly and honestly dead
(oh! fy, Sir, why should you be discompos’d at so small a matter as that
is) in short, dead to all intents and purposes as a door-nail; or if
that won’t serve your turn, as dead as _Methusalah_, or any of the
patriarchs before the flood. And because, Sir, I am in a very good
humour at present, and somewhat dispos’d to be merry (which you’ll say
is somewhat odd in a dead man) and besides having a mighty respect for a
person of your worth and gravity, I will let you know what distemper I
dy’d of, and give you the whole history of my illness from _Dan_ to
_Beersheba_. Upon the _20th_ of _July_ last, old stile, I was invited to
a christning in a certain village in _Lincolnshire_, where I had the
honour of being vicar; and by a strange fatality was over-persuaded to
eat some custard, which is the most pernicious aliment in the world, but
especially in the dog-days. Since I have been in the _Elysian Fields_,
meeting with _Galen_ and _Dioscorides_ the other day, I told them my
case, and both of ’em told me that custard had done my business. _Galen_
whisper’d me in the ear, and told me that whatever sham stories the
historians had palm’d upon the world _Trajan_ got his death by nothing
but eating of custard at _Antioch_, and mention’d two or three other
eminent persons that had their heels tript up by that pernicious food.
_Dioscorides_ added farther, that custard was destructive of the
intellect, and conjur’d me that the next time I writ to any of my
acquaintance in _London_, I would desire them to present his most humble
service to my _Lord Mayor_ and court of _Aldermen_, and advise ’em as
from him to refrain from custard, because it obnubilated the
understanding, and was detrimental to the memory. So much by way of
digression, but now, Sir, to proceed in the history of my illness: this
eating of custard first of all gave me a cachexy, and ’twas my
misfortune that there was no brandy to be had in the house, for in all
probability a cogue of true orthodox _Nantz_, would have corrected the
crudity of the custard. This cachexy in twelve hours turn’d to a _Dolor
alvi_, that to a _Peripneumonia_ in the _Diaphragm_, and that to an
_Epyema_ in the _Glandula Pinealis_. Upon this a hundred other
distempers came pouring upon me like thunder and lightning, for you know
when a man is once going, _down with him_ is the word; that very fairly
dispatch’d me in four days, and so I dy’d without a doctor to help to
dispatch me, or an attorney to make my will. A little before I troop’d
off, I desir’d my parishoners to bury me under the great church-spout
which accordingly they did, I thank ’em for’t, and upon every shower of
rain I find a refreshment by it; for you must know that when I was
living, I was very thirsty in my nature, and abounded in adust cholerick
humours.
I believe, Sir, you might have writ to a thousand and a thousand dead
men, who would never have given themselves the trouble to answer your
letters, or have been so communicative of their secrets as you have
found me; but, Sir, I scorn to act under-board. And if this don’t
satisfy all your doubts, I can only wish I had you here with me, to give
you farther conviction.
And now Sir, let me desire you to put your hand to your heart, and
consider calmly and sedately with yourself, whether it be not illegal as
well as barbarous, to disturb the repose of the dead, and persecute them
in their very graves? You that are so full of your _Cases_ and your
_Precedents_, tell me what _Case_ or _Precedent_ you can alledge to
justify so unrighteous a _Procedure_? Is it not a known maxim in law,
that death puts a stop to all _Processes_ whatsoever, and that when a
man has once paid the great debt of nature, he has compounded for all
the rest? How then can you make me amends for the injuries you have done
me, and the great charges you have put me to? For upon the faith and
honour of a dead man, the very passage of your letters to this
subterranean world, has cost me above five pounds, the pretended sum you
charge me with. However, if Heaven will forgive you, for my part I do;
and to show you, that after so many horrid provocations I am still in
charity with you, I remain,
_Your defunct Friend and Servant_,
Q. Z.
Feb. 5. _From the_
Elysian-Fields.
P. S. _All the news that I can send you from this part of the world, is,
that we are troubled with none of your pofession here, which is no small
part of our happiness, I assure you; and, upon a strict enquiry, I find,
that not one_ Attorney _for these 1500 years, has been so impudent, as
to give St._ Peter _the trouble of using his keys_.
The End of the _Letters_ from the DEAD to the LIVING.
Dialogues of the DEAD.
In Imitation of _LUCIAN_.
The Scene HELL.
_The Trial of_ CUCKOLDS.
_Lucifer._ Hold! porter, shut the gates of this our angust court, that
we may not be thus throng’d. Let no more come in, ’till we have clear’d
the bench of these numbers we have before us already.
_Porter._ Mighty emperor, your commands shall be obey’d.
_Lucif._ Now, my noble lords, set we ourselves to search and examine
what of late years brings daily such gluts and spring-tides of souls to
our infernal mansions, ’specially at this time, when neither war,
famine, nor plague, are abroad in the upper world, or at least in that
part of it from whence I observe most of this gang arrive; _Europe_ I
mean: if there were war, ’twould be no wonder so many were damn’d; the
liberties of the sword surprize enough in their sins to throng our
courts of justice: nor is the plague without advantages for us that way;
the few that have spiritual relief, in such contagious and
quickly-destroying distempers, encrease our crop: and the general
cruelty of mankind is such, that in famine, those that have will keep
for themselves and their dogs, and let the rest of their own species
perish, without so much as a pitying look: and this makes many atheists
in their wants, and does that, without our instigation, which we could
not perswade _Job_ to do, that is, _Curse God, and die_.
But, my lords, when none of these, our loyal vassals, are abroad, ’tis
not strange that I am to seek in the cause of this great concourse at
our tribunal; and, therefore, that virtue, for want of reward and due
praise, may not slacken, we will examine to what industrious friend we
owe this unexpected success; wherefore, you minor devils and
under-officers of our court, bring them in order to the bar, and let no
devil of honour, that has past that inferior office of touching the
uncleanness of humanity, defile himself with too near an approach to any
of them.
[_Here several lacquey-devils and porter-devils, with the rest of
the mob of hell, bring on the first band to the bar in_ Italian
_garbs_.]
Speak, criminal, whence thou art? Of what nation, quality, or condition
in the world? And what’s the happy cause of thy coming hither?
_Ghost._ First, Signor, adjust some points in dispute, which highly
concern the honour of our country, and the decorum of good breeding, and
I shall, for all this noble train that follow me, answer to your
devilship’s queries. Coming to the confines of your flourishing empire,
we were met by some of the officers of this honourable assembly, who
gave us safe conduct to your royal presence: but just now, entring into
these lifts, confronted us a company of paltry scoundrels, and press’d
for precedence, swearing, That they were _Englishmen_, and ought to take
place of all that were damn’d for cuckolds. We urg’d our title in
heraldry, that we ought to take place of all nations, being the
successors of the once masters of the universe; but they were deaf to
reason here, as well as in the world, and one swore _d--me_, _bl--d_ and
_z--ns_, another, oaths all round the compass; and in this volly of
mouth-grenadoes, one very demure gentleman press’d, by _Yea_ and _Nay_,
that we were in the wrong; and had it not been for this honourable devil
here, that’s a friend to our nation, we had been worm’d out of our
birth-right by the arse and refuse of the world: _Et penitus toto
divisos orbe Britannos_, as our noble country-man has it, Dogs shut out
of doors from all the rest of mankind. I therefore appeal to this thrice
excellent senate, and you the _right and most reverend doge_, to redress
this affront.
_Lucif._ Hey-day? What, has not hell yet brought you to your senses,
that you can think we devils are such sots to trouble our heads about
the ridiculous whims of ceremonious mankind? But since they were so
obstreperous to make a disturbance in hell, they shall be the last
heard: Therefore proceed to the question.
_Ghost._ An’t please your thrice puissant devilship, noble signor, I was
coming to that point: Therefore, to be brief, (for I hate prolixity) I
am, Sir, an _Italian_ by nation, and a noble-man by quality. My own
vanity, and ill chance, give me a pretty wife, and my honour made me
chuse her of an illustrious house; but she prov’d lewd and prodigal, the
natural issue of beauty and high birth; my dotage on her charms hath
bred in me such a fond, blind, uxorious vice (which my countrymen are
seldom guilty of) that I was almost ruin’d before I found I was
betray’d: but travelling towards _Genoa_, I met the spark, my pretended
friend, on the road to my dwelling; I seemingly pass’d on my way, but in
the night return’d, unexpected, and surpriz’d ’em all, and, therefore,
as my honour bid me, I murder’d him, and bak’d him in a pye, and
(ingeniously in my revenge) swore she should eat no other food but her
lover: the crust she a while did eat, but one day, having prepar’d a
_stelleto_, at supper she dispatch’d me thus to your thrice noble and
illustrious devilship.
_Lucif._ Very well! and worthy thou art of such a punishment, that
could’st not forgive beauty a gentle slip of that nature thou thyself
hadst so often transgress’d. Speak the next.
_2 Ghost._ I am also an _Italian_; and observing a gentleman often
ogling my wife, which she did not a little encourage, I sent a _bravo_
to dispatch him; (for we _Italians_ do not love to look revenge in the
face ourselves) but the rogue of a _bravo_, won by my wife, and by a
great sum of money of my adversary’s, comes back to me, and cuts my
throat. And this, most noble signor, is most of our cases; our wives
have given us the casting throw for damnation.
_Lucif._ You, the rest of the malignant train, is this true, that your
wives have sent you hither?
_Omnes._ Yes, yes; we have all had wives.---- All the plagues of _Egypt_
let us undergo, but no wives, we most humbly beseech your most noble
devilship.
_Lucif._ Prayers are in vain; transgressions are to be punish’d by the
same way they are committed; nor must you be your own carvers here in
hell, gentlemen. Away with ’em, down into cuckolds-cave, ten thousand
fathom deeper than the whore-masters, and next the keeping-cullies, _and
let each have two wives to torment him_.
_Omnes._ O wives! wives!
[_They are removed off, and others brought on._
_Lucif._ Proceed to the next band.
Say, what were you in the world, and what dear sin brought you to this
place?
_Spanish Ghost._ Great prince of darkness, and lord of the greatest part
of mankind, may it please your catholick majesty, I was, by my worldly
state and condition, a _Spanish_ grandee, of the first magnitude, rich
as fortune and an indulgent prince well could make me, (for your
devilship must know, our king is but a sheep for us to fleece when we
please, which we do in all places, letting his soldiers and inferior
servants starve) happy, ’till too much success was my undoing; for by
that I gain’d the lady I lov’d, and so in one unhappy word was married.
’Tis tedious to repeat the injuries I receiv’d from the ungrateful fair,
who, after all, to make room for another, sent me away (like an
_Italian_ as she was) in all my sins, with a poisonous draught.
_Lucif._ Is the same your fate, you, the rest of this besotted crew,
that have met with just punishment from one part of yourselves, for
preferring your private grandeur before the service of your king and
honour of your country?
_Omnes._ Yes, yes; thirst of honour and wealth made us cheat the king;
and drew down the judgment of wedlock; and that brought us to this long
home and fiend of matrimony.
_Lucif._ Away with these, and drive ’em out of their snails pace.
[_A tatter’d Ghost comes forward._
_Ghost._ Just may be their punishment, most noble devil; but why should
I be condemn’d to wincing, who was so far from cheating the king, that I
could never get my due of him, and being a gentleman born, never did
any thing below my extraction, and have gone without a meal, many a
time, rather than degrade myself to get one? And tho’ I could arrive to
it no other ways, yet kept up my part still in stately walk, and my
wallet, tho’ I had no bread for either, or a shirt to my back.
_Lucif._ Since thy own folly made thee marry, ’tis now too late to
prate, you must away with the rest.
[_They are carry’d off, and others brought on._
Bring the next to the bar: declare the cause of your deserv’d damnation.
My life on’t these dapper sparks are in for cakes and ale too; the very
air of their faces speaks them cuckolds.
_French Ghost._ Sire, may it please your most victorious majesty,
_Vostre Esclaro_ is a _Frenchman_ by birth, and a leader of the most
christian king’s most magnanimous forces; and whilst I, with my
commilitones, was reaping lawrels in the field of renown, and engaging
the enemy abroad, my lady wife (as most of our _French_ wives will, for
having once tasted the sweets of love, they’ll ne’er have done ’till
they have undone us one way or other) my lady wife, I say, was engaging
with a friend at home, who very genteely gave her the pox, which I, at
my return, like a gay cavalier of a husband, receiv’d of her as genteely
without rebuke, it being no matter of scandal with us. But
madamoiselle’s pox proving a very _virago_, gave me damn’d thrust in
_quarto_, and sent me hither in _decimo sexto_, _monseigneur_.
_Lucif._ You, the rest, speak.
_Omnes._ We are all _Frenchmen_, and therefore you need not doubt the
cause, the pox and our wives, _ma foy_.
_Lucif._ Away with them: they’ll make a fire by themselves, or will
serve instead of small-coal to kindle others; for they are half burnt
out already. Place ’em next the _Spaniards_. The next there speak.
[_They are carry’d off, more brought on._
_German Ghost._ I am, by nation, a _German_, and, by damnation, a
husband, a cuckold, or what you please; for I hate to mince the matter
with a long preamble, when a word to the wise is enough.
_Lucif._ Very well; you, the rest, speak.
_Omnes._ Ev’n so, an’t please your imperial devilship; whilst we drank
and fought against the _Turks_, our wives whor’d with the _Christians_.
O wives! wives!
_Lucif._ Away with these into the hottest, for their carcasses are so
soak’d with liquor, that they’ll put out an ordinary fire. You, the
next, speak.
[_They are carry’d off, others brought on._
_Dutch Ghost._ Gads sacrament, I am a member, or rather two members, of
the _Hogen-Mogen_ common-wealth of _Europe_. Two members, I say; for I
am a member governed, and a member governing; for the people with us,
and in all such common-wealths, are both subjects and masters, govern
laws, and govern’d by the same.
_Lucif._ Your country’s name then is contradiction. Is it not?
_Ghost._ Contradiction to monarchy, tho’ set up by some monarchs to
spite others. But to your question, old tarpaulin: Whilst I was getting
money and drinking punch and brandy, to hearten me for the noble combats
of snick or snee, or some illustrious sea-fight, or some generous
undertaking at the island of _Formosa_, (for a true _Dutchman_ never
fights without his head full of brandy) my wife made it fly like
_sooterkins_ at home; at last she made me turn bankrupt, and cheat my
creditors, and so dying, I came with a full sail and brisk gale into
your port.
_Lucif._ You, the rest, speak.
_Omnes._ For our wives, O _Sooterkin Hagan_, our wives, whose
broad-built bulk the boisterous billows bear.
_Lucif._ Away with them into the den of anarchy and confusion, below the
founders of _Babel_.
[_They are carry’d off, and abundance of_ English _bands come
forward_.
_Lucif._ Numerous crew! answer me; What has brought you into this
kingdom; and what were you in the world?
[_A ghost of a beau speaks to another of the same feather._
_1 Beau’s Gh._ D---- me, _Jack_, didst ever hear so silly and
impertinent a question? As if marriage was not the only cause of
damnation.
[_Aside._
_2 Beau’s Gh._ R----t me, _Ned_, as thou say’st, I never heard a
country justice ask more _mal à propos_; but the devil’s an ass, and so
let him pass.
_The first of the first band answers the Devil._
I am an _Englishman_, who, after I had been a notorious cuckold, was
perswaded by my wife to fight the man that made me so, and was fairly
kill’d for satisfaction, as all this band that follows me were; and we
are damn’d for _fools_ as well as _cuckolds_.
_Omnes._ ’Tis true, _honour_ and _wedlock_ have been our ruin.
_Lucif._ Away with them into _fools paradise_, below the
keeping-cullies, as the more _unpardonable monsters_.
[_They are carry’d off, and as the next come in,
the Beaux speak._
_1 Be. Gh._ D---- me, _Ned_, didst ever know such fools as they, that
could not be satisfy’d to live _cuckolds_, but must die so too, with a
witness,
[_Aside_.
_2 Be. Gh._ R----t me, _Jack_, if ever I was of that fighting humour;
nor did I ever fight but once, and then forc’d to it; but my _stays_
sav’d my life, and I wore my glove that was cut in the encounter as long
as ’twould hang on my hand: therefore, tho’ I knew Sir _Roger Allfight_
kiss’d my _wife_, yet as long as I could sup at the _Rose_, and break
the drawer’s head if he made not haste, or brought _bad wines_, or so,
’gad I let him kiss her and welcome.
[_Aside._
_1 Be. Gh._ S----k me, _Ned_, I was always of thy mind, as long as I
could flutter abroad in my glass coach, have my diamond snuff-box full
of _Orangeree_ or _Roderigo_, _&c._ D---- me if I car’d a rush who rode
in my saddle. But mark that formal coxcomb now going to speak: lord! how
fine a thing it is to be a man of wit, and what a singular figure he
makes! but hark, old grey-beard begins.
_Lucif._ Speak you the next.
_Ghost._ I was a man of quality, of the same country; but my fortune
being, in my youth, run out, in _France_ for breeding, and in _England_
by keeping, I thought in my riper years to retrieve all by marrying a
_city heiress_; but she had by nature, so much of the mother in her,
that by intriguing and equipage she soon brought me into a worse
condition than before: so that, as my last refuge, I was forc’d to turn
_Plotter_, and being discover’d, was lopp’d shorter by the head, as all
this honourable tribe that follows me were.
_Lucif._ Away with ’em. [_They are carry’d off, and, as the next are
bringing to the bar, the beaux discourse again._
_1 Beau. Gh._ D--me, _Ned_, this was a worse fool than the other.
_2 Beau. Gh._ R--t me, _Jack_, _vous avez raison_: for I always lov’d to
keep myself out of the _jeopardy of action_: _Jack_, I’d talk treason,
or so; sort myself with the disaffected, and blow up the coals of their
_discontent_, or so: but for _engagements, covenants, conditions, and
unlawful assemblies_, ’gad they must pardon me.
[_Aside._
_1 Beau. Gh._ Z--ns, _Ned_, thou and I were always one man; I could rail
at the magistrates, pen a lampoon, or, at least, convey it to _Julian_,
give penny pies to the mob to make a noise, ridicule the transactions of
the government, and give squinting reflections on the king, that was my
_ne plus ultra_; for all that I can see, we are in the best case still,
_Ned_. But now our band advances, let us press forward, or our cause may
fail.
[_Aside._
_2 Beau. Gh._ Hell and damnation, all’s lost; for look yonder, that
conceited coxcomb, my lord _Flippant_, presuming on his quality, has
taken upon him to be our chief, and spokes-man.
[_Aside._
_1 Beau. Gh._ S--nk me, _Ned_, so say I: I never knew a conceited man,
but he was a fool; but let’s hear, we may put in an appeal, or a writ of
error afterward, or award judgment, if our cause be ill handled.
[_Aside._
O! what an admirable thing it is to be a man of parts!
_Luc._ Speak, thou fluttering fool, for the rest of this thy
peacock-gang.
_L. Flippant’s Ghost._ D--me, Sir, I have been a man of the town, or
rather a man of wit, and have been confess’d a beau, and admitted into
the family of the rakehellonians: and, d--me, Sir, I think I am much
under that dilemma at present.---- I was learn’d in the ingenious art of
dumfounding; a wit I said, dear devil, I was, and it lay as a
gentleman’s shou’d, most in lewdness and atheism. I married in jest, or
a frolick, which you please; but as I thought a fortune, (got by
cullies) I was made a cuckold in earnest; tho’ that was no grievance to
me, since it only made me in the mode: nor cou’d I expect any better,
since I knew she was a whore before I had her; but ’twas with my
betters, and so I was contented her money should pass currant with me,
where her reputation would not: but sharping was her best quality, and
gaming her greatest patrimony; and she set up a basset table, and
whilst I was at the groom-porter’s throwing _a-main_, she would be sure
to set me, at home, a pair of horns. I seldom coming to my apartment,
but I met some cully nobleman or other; but that which was worst, she
still had a knave in her mouth, or an alpue in her tail, that carry’d
away all the gain: whilst I was at _Will_’s coffee-house, fast’ned in
controversy or poetick rhapsodies, though I had neither religion nor
learning, she was sure of me ’till play-time and then too; for at five,
come, _Dick_, says I (to a brother of the orange and cravat string)
d--me, let’s us to the play: r--t me, says he, ’tis a dull one: d--me,
says I, I value not the play, my province lies in the boxes, ogling my
half-crown away, or running from side-box to side-box, to the inviting
incognito’s in black faces, or else wittily to cry out aloud in the pit,
_&c._ _Bough_, or _Boyta_, and then be prettily answer’d by the rest of
the wits in the same note, like musical instruments tuned to the same
pitch. And whilst I was thus generously employ’d, my consort had her
retreat of quality, to be provided of what I fail’d in. From the play to
the _Rose_, where we drank ’till four, or break of day; from thence to
bed, where we lay ’till four or five again, so _in infinitum_.
_1 Beau. Gh._ D--me, _Jack_, did’st ever hear a sot spoil a good tale in
the telling so?
_2 Beau. Gh._ Z--ns, _Ned_, we’re undone thro’ this scoundrel’s
ignorance and nonsense: shall I speak?
_1 Beau. Gh._ R--t me, if thou wilt, thou may’st: but I am sure I could
make more of it: for tho’ thou art a man of wit, and a good judge of
poetry, and all that, r--t me, _Jack_, oratory is thy blind side.
_2 Beau. Gh._ D--me, Sir, don’t put upon your friends; for have I been
bred at the university, and think myself as good a judge as you or any
man alive: and, Sir, were we out of the court, I believe you would not
thus have abus’d me.
_1 Beau. Gh._ Nay, D--me, _Ned_, now thou art unjust to thy friend: r--t
me, to quarrel for’t, I acknowledg’d thee a man of parts, _Ned_, and all
that.
_Luc._ Away with the gay sots, and because I have no plagues in hell
equal to their deserts, let them be a torment to one another. Away with
them. [_As they go off, the Beaus discourse._
_1 Beau. Gh._ Well, _Ned_, shall I speak before it is too late: you may
depend on my excellence in oratory, ’tis my talent; I never writ
billet-deux in my life, but it prevail’d with the cruel nymph: and do
you think I can’t with the devil? I’ll perswade him out of his seven
senses, man? d--me, I’ll make it appear to him that he is a god, and all
that, man: r--t me, _Ned_, be not obstinate.
_2 Beau. Gh._ Z--ns, Sir, no more of that strain. Sir, you’re a coxcomb.
What doubt my universal parts?
_Luc._ You with such a busy face, speak, what are you?
_Here abundance of Cits, in various dresses, come forward._
_Cit. Ghost._ An’t please your infernal majesty, I was a right
worshipful citizen of _London_, that famous _Metropolis_ of _England_,
and I have born all the honourable employments of the same, ev’n to
sheriff and lord-mayor: I was long of the court of aldermen, and one of
the chief spokesmen of the common-council: I made speeches, and penn’d
most of the addresses. But ’tis not for being a cuckold alone, or that I
was feign to cheat so many to maintain my wife’s pride and luxury, that
I am damn’d with this right worshipful crew here; for those are crimes
common to the rest of our brother-citizens, as well as us; but we were
so mad to marry second wives, and for their sakes turn our children out
of doors, (after we had bred them up in all the ease and luxury of the
age) to seek their fortunes in the wide world, and left our estates to
our wives at our death, who will be sure to bestow them on some silly
hectoring spendthrift bully of _Alsatia_ or other, and let the children,
begot of our own bodies, starve.
_Luc._ Away with that rank gang of fools, as well as knaves, who cou’d
so much forget nature and its necessary and known laws, as to cast off
their own off-spring, to give away their substance to those that will
not only misuse it, but contemn the memory of them that were their
benefactors, with so great an injury to nature.
_2 Cit._ May it please your most noble devilship to hear me, before you
give judgment upon us, and I don’t doubt, but I shall seriously, offer
such reasons of our behaviour in that matter, as shall sufficiently move
that ignominy your devilship was pleas’d to cast upon us. First, then,
tho’ it be true, that upon my marriage, I agreed with my second spouse
to turn all my children out of doors, yet I did it not ’till she or I
had found some cause so to do; for some of them were undutiful, and
others put tricks upon me, (as my good wife said) and others were lewd
and extravagant, and some self-will’d; so that I deserted none of ’em
without some fault. If they were undutiful, was I to blame to punish ’em
for it? Or was it my duty to keep and maintain them, after they were of
sufficient bigness to prog for themselves? The birds and beasts take
care of their young no longer, than ’till they are able to care for
themselves; and why should man be confin’d to more severe laws in that
point than his vassal creatures? I must profess, on the word of a
citizen, that I can see no reason why a man that gets his estate
himself, may not give it away to whom he pleases; and none so and near
deserving, as the wife of one’s bosom. What tho’ she may have slips, the
witcheries and temptations of love are great to their soft sex; and if
we have been so employ’d in getting, that we could not mind that other
business, why should we blame them for easing us by other supplies,
where we wanted power to give them.
_Luc._ Thou hast spoken as much to the purpose, as when in the world
thou used harangue at the choice of a sheriff; and therefore I shall
proceed to a singular punishment for you. Your argument of punishing
your children for their undutifulness, turns here on your own head; for
when they are little, you encourage their impudence: and that is a witty
child with you, that can prate saucily and lewdly before he can read,
and swear and catch the maid by it before seven years old; and then when
you have given them their head without controul, during their childhood
and minority, you punish them for the fruit of that tree which
yourselves have planted, which is in itself the height of injustice; but
on the contrary, you are condemn’d for breaking the laws of your maker,
which you were bred in fear of, and taught to obey; and you that could
punish your own flesh and blood so for nothing, without relenting, have
a just judgment for being punish’d here without mercy. And as for their
being lewd and extravagant, that is no plea for you, since that is the
lesson you have taught ’em both by example and precept, from the time of
their birth, ’till their coming to years of understanding; for you let a
taylor’s daughter, with you, go in the garb of the children of a duke
in the country, and even miss ketch be call’d away from the mob: your
sons must keep their horses, and their whores too, before they know the
use of either; and then you punish them for persevering when they are
better skill’d. And as for the birds and beasts, (examples I think
unworthy to be follow’d by a nobler being, or quoted as a precedent)
they are so far excelling you in that point, that they educate their
young in the simple course of nature, not elevating them above what’s
necessary, nor leaving them, ’till they have sufficiently inur’d them to
provide for themselves all that nature requires. But just contrary to
the example you quote, you, all the infancy of your children, keep them
from hardship and knowing how to live and provide for themselves, and
then on the sudden cast them out of their nest unfledg’d, without
teaching them to fly. Nor is your proud supposition, that you may
dispose of your own gettings, more pious or justifiable, unless you will
make your selves gods, and claim the propriety of that which you cannot
carry out of the world with you, no more than you brought it in. ’Twas
heaven that gave success to your endeavours, to provide for those other
blessings it bestow’d upon you, of fine hopeful children; and you were,
in right, but their tenant for life, to improve your substance for their
good. Nor can you in reason imagine any one deserves it better; for
justice and reason both will have it, that you that begot them into the
world without their seeking or desires, to satisfy your own pleasures,
ought to provide all you can for them that you brought thus
involuntarily into the maze of fortune and the treachery of mankind. And
of all in the world, you have the least reason to leave it to a wife,
that not only betrays the rights of your bed, prostituting herself and
your honour to rascals; but shew’d at first so little respect and love
for you, as to desire so unreasonable a thing, that you should cast off
all the bonds of nature, and forsake your own children, which she could
not but love, if she lov’d you: for you know the proverb, _love me, love
my dog_. Having thus therefore shewn the villainy of your crimes, ’tis
fit I proceed to your just punishment, for which you are sent hither.
You that have thus more than monstrously prevaricated against nature,
shall want all the benefits of nature; fire you shall have, but not to
give you gentle warmth from the cold of the season, (as when you liv’d
and hugg’d yourself in all epicurism, whilst your children starv’d) but
to scorch your wretched consciences; and continual fears of burning your
goods, houses, and writings, shall attend you; to which shall be added
the piercing fire of jealousy, that shall prey upon every part of you;
nor shall you be without the knowledge of your wives transactions on
earth and see how they mourn in sack and claret, and how they marry and
whore before you are cold; how they spend that profusely, which you
scrap’d together to give them, with so much injustice to your poor
orphans, whose injuries shall never let you rest, but with all the fury
of hell for ever torment you worse than _Onan_ or the _Sodomites_: away
with them, whose villainies raises a horror, even in the prince of hell
and great source of wickedness.
[_As they are going off, two Quakers ghosts speak._
_1 Quaker’s Ghost._ Ah! um!--_Josiah!_ verily, who would have thought
that _Rebecca_ would have fallen with the ungodly so, or that your
_Tabitha_ would have let the spirit move her to play with the calves of
_Bethel_, the wicked of _Sidon_, or the profane children of _Moloch_?
_2 Ghost._ By yea and by nay, _Abadoniah_, as thou say’st, it was more
verily than could enter into the heart of man to believe. Why, there was
my neighbour _Sad-face_, and my cousin _Goggle_, _Nahu_, _Sneakphir_,
and [_The lord said unto_ Moses, _praise God_.] was his fore-name; had
they not holy sisters, as to the appearance of the flesh, for their
spouses? Yet behold with them, and within the tabernacles of their
mansions, instead of raising up seed to the lord among the chosen and
godly, they did sacrifice to _Baal_ with the giants of _Moab_. Oh
_Abadoniah_! what a falling off was there! what a backsliding!
_1 Ghost._ Oh, _Josiah_! As thou say’st, verily, and by yea and by nay,
that the spirit should move us to come to the devil for our necessaries,
without a convenience. But our lord will remember our captivity in
_Babylon_.
_The lawyers push forward, and speak very urgently._
_Lawyer’s Ghost._ Sure, my lord, if the _Decorum_ of any place ought to
be kept, that of a court of judgment ought, and not to let a paultry cit
speak before a man of the robe. But in these popish times, all law is
neglected, and all its honourable professors contemn’d and postpon’d.
However, my most honourable lord and patron of all that were black, I
shall humbly move this honourable court, that I may at length be heard,
since my cause is of so great import and concern, and in which the
wisdom of this court will be highly interessed, if it should be brought
in _Billa vera_; and it wou’d too much reflect on the impartiality of
this court of judicature, to be slack in indagating into a cause of this
weight and moment. My lord, before I open, I shall only premise, that I
take this to be the high court of equity. Which granted, I shall begin
to open.
I will confess, that the statutes in _Banco Regis_ may prevail, and
custom in the common-pleas; but humbly presume, with submission to your
lordships, that this being a court of equity, it will give the [57]
devil his due. But, my lord, where a precedent of the like nature may
happen in a case decided by the great council of the nation, I hope it
will not be foreign, if I alledge it here where it has nothing to do.
The case is parallel, as I may say, my lord, considering the
circumstances; that is, in short, _Consideratis Considerandis_, in
_primo Henrici primi_, according to my lord _Coke_ upon _Littleton_; and
if your lordship will let us read, you shall find so many gross errors
in the bill, and the material objections so fully answer’d, and costs,
if not charges and damages. But, my lord, I do humbly suppose, that part
of this bill ought rather to have been put into an indictment, and so
falls not under the cognizance of this court; and that is, my lord, that
we are made _Felo’s de se_, the causes of our own damnation, by an
instrument call’d a wife, value two-pence. Therefore, my lord, if you
please, let us try it upon a jury in any county your lordship shall
think fit. Tho’, I think, in our case, your lordship may decide it
without farther trouble; for thus I prove the [58] negative, (hoping
your lordship will let me bring in a writ of error). To deny, my lord,
that we are damn’d, wou’d be perfect nonsense, and against all form of
law; yet that we are damn’d for our wives, I presume, does not follow.
And I will prove, that it does not, so undeniably, to all that have any
profound insight into the law, that I question not but your lordship
will acquiesce _Nemine Contradicente_; for tho’ it be,
_Mark, brothers, how I will puzzle the devil, and all his learned bench
with one turn, one notable quirk; mind it well._
_Aside to the other lawyers Ghosts that follow him, they look on
one another, rejoicing, and hugging themselves._
[_Aloud_] For tho’ I say it be true, that our wives spend a great deal
of money on our clerks, _Et cætera, quæ nunc perscribere longum est_,
and cuckolded us as often as they pleas’d, in spite of our teeth; and
though I will not deny that they were as profuse as _Heliogabalus_, or
_Caligula_, and as proud as _Lucifer_, (with submission to your
lordship) yet (now comes the paradox) yet, I say, (pray mind this) _we
did not get money to maintain their_ luxury, _but they maintain’d their_
luxury _out of the money that we got_: which, I humbly conceive, falls
not under the same predicament, but brings us within the act of _Habeas
Corpus_, that we may not be carry’d away into the den of ordinary
cuckolds. For, to give your lordship yet a more lively representation of
this matter in question, be pleas’d to reflect on another very pertinent
precedent in my lord _Coke_, where _John-a-Noakes_ is tenant only for
life, and _John-a Stiles_ tenant in tail----
_Luc._ Heyday! what, is it _Midsummer_-moon with mankind? what have we
got here! a cuckold hornmad, prating nonsense, and salving his knavery
and folly with a quirk in law, a turn of a sentence? those shams won’t
take here, where there needs no fee for counsel, nor bribe for judgment.
Away with him and his villainous tribe.
_Lawyer’s Ghost._ Nay, but, my lord, I humbly move your honour, that we
may not be condemn’d, _Causa indicta_, that is not right or equitable:
wherefore I beseech your lordship to have some regard to me, as I am a
barrister of thirty years standing, and a serjeant of ten, that you
wou’d be pleas’d to reflect, that tho’ I cheated the ignorant, and
squeez’d and impos’d on the necessitous.--
_Luc._ Has not hell yet brought thee to thy senses? Away with this
impertinent fellow, and all this black gang, among the rest of the most
deprav’d cuckolds, but in the most deepest cavern, for whom they shall
plead, _in Forma Pauperis_, till their lungs crack, without fees; let
the
[Illustration: _The Poets Hell describ’d._
_Voll. IV. p. 321._
]
writings of their ill got estates be for their food. Scoundrels, that
had no more sense, than after they had cheated so many wise and honest
men, to suffer themselves to be abus’d by women! away with them, away
with them.
_Lawyer._ As to that, my lord, I always fetch’d my dear home in her
coach from her gallant, who had pawn’d her in a tavern.----
_Luc._ Away with them I say; what, am I not obey’d!
_As they are carry’d off, they cry_, O tempora! O mores!
* * * * *
_Luc._ Who art thou, with so precise a grimace?
_A Parson’s Ghost._ I was in the world above, most mighty king, of the
reverend crew, and having a handsom wife, as most of us love, who was
proud, as they generally are, my benefice (tho’ good) was too small to
maintain the grandeur she affected; but I being of a good comely port,
with a pair of broad shoulders, and sufficient abilities, and the man of
God too boot, (which made an easy and open way for all the rest) I
ventur’d to crack a commandment with some of my wealthy parishioners
wives, that they being so oblig’d, (according to my text) might prevail
with their husbands to be the more generous to me in supererrogatory
offerings, which flow’d all into the bottomless bag of my spouse’s pride
and lust; for that too, must be supply’d.
[_They are carry’d off._
_Luc._ You, the rest of this mad foolish crew, what are you? And what
the cause of your damnation?
Poet’s Ghost.
_Quis Talia fando_
_Myrmidonum, Dolopúmve, aut duri Miles Ulyssi_
_Temperet à Lacrymis?_
Ha! brothers of the quill, what fate for us remains!
But death, or worse than death, inglorious chains.
_Luc._ What ragged regiment are you that lag behind your fellows? what
are you the black-guard of the cuckolds?
_Poet._ No, royal _Pluto_, no, (altho’, indeed, we are the poorest
cuckolds that come hither, I believe) we are of the learned rout.
_We have on_ PARNASSUS _slept,_
_And in the sacred stream_
_(To guild our amorous theam)_
_Of_ HELICON _our pens have dipt._
_And thro’_ AVERNUS _and black_ STYX
_By which to swear_
_The Gods do fear,_
_We hither slipt;_
_And fairly bilked old_ CHARON
_As we were wont to do of yore_
_Poor_ HACK, _or_ CHAIR-MAN,
_Or our half-starv’d whore._
_Wherefore, O Sir_ PLUTO,
_Since we cannot bilk you too_.----
_Luc._ Hold, hold I know your tribe of old; if you once get to repeating
your works, or into the jingle of your rhimes, you’ll never have done.
Away with them to old _Sternhold_ and _Hopkins_, and the rest of the
crambo-sparks: ye senseless scoundrels, that make wives of your mules
when single, and whores of your wives when marry’d.
Poet.
_O passi graviora!_----
_Solamen miseris, socios habuisse dolorum._
_Luc._ Clear the court, and let no more come in: the fatigue of this
sitting has been enough: for my part, the follies of mankind are such,
that the very hearing of them has quite turn’d my stomach for this month
at least.
_Porter_. Great Sir, here is a throng of wild _Irish_, that will take no
denial, but thrust in whether we will or no.
_Irish_. Nay, nay, my deer joy, chreest bless the sweet majestees faash
indeed; poor _Teague_ is St. _Patrick_’s own country-man, be chreest,
and poor _Teague_ will come into St. _Patrick_’s purgatory; and if there
be no vacancee, indeed thee must make a vacancee.
_Porter._ Nay, but this is hell, and not St. _Patrick_’s purgatory:
therefore keep back.
_Irish._ Boo! boo, boo, boo, boo, hoo, hoo! hell indeed! say’st thou mee
deer joy! be mee shoul, and bee chreest and St. _Patrick_, ee was think
that hee that was in the highway to hell, cou’d not miss St. _Patrick_’s
purgatory, since there is but a wall betwixt them.
_Porter_. Ouns, stand back, or I’ll send you back to the _Boyne_, ye
impudent pultroons you.
_Irish._ Boo, hoo, ooo: bless the sweet faash of thee indeed, poor
_Teague_ will have patience ’till his good grace will let him in indeed.
[_A noise without._
_Lucif._ What noise is that without?
_Porter._ Here is a troop of _Scots_ that swear and stare to get in, and
beg they may but skulk into some cold corner of hell, (which they wou’d
not know from their own country above) with their _Ganymedes_, from the
fury of their wives, whom they hear are just following them at their
heels. And then here is some thousands more from _Asia_, _Africa_, and
_America_, push’d on with the same fear: but I’ll keep them here in the
_Lobby_, ’till your infernal majesty is more at leisure.
_Lucif._ Do so,--for the horrid nauseousness of these sots have almost
put me into a fit of vomiting and looseness. And now, my lords and
gentlemen, that have given your attendance at this court, you may depart
’till farther orders; but tendering my health, both for your sakes and
my own, I shall confer the office of my deputy on our right reverend and
well-belov’d cousin _Belzebub_, prince of the _Flies_; for I am unable
to undergo this fatigue any more.
_Belzebub._ I humbly beg your majesty wou’d excuse my age, and give me
my _quietus_. Here is prince _Satan_, an able and active devil, and
worthy your choice.
_Satan._ Good prince _Belzebub_, you might have spar’d your good word;
for I shall beg to be excus’d, if my former services may be respected;
for I had enough of mankind when I tempted _Eve_, she foil’d me so at my
own weapon; therefore I hope your majesty will confer that troublesome
employment on some devil of less quality than myself.
_Lucif._ So be it then, and let the mob of hell make choice of one, for
I am resolv’d to trouble myself no more about them. But before we rise,
let proclamation be made of a general play-day and jubilee for all the
lesser and laborious rank of devils, who have been thus long continually
employ’d in damning mankind; let them take their ease as long as
matrimony prevails above; for now our business is much better done by
woman to our hands: Or if any are so zealously inclin’d to be still busy
for the good of their country, let them employ their time and talents to
better purpose than formerly, in perswading the easy world against
cœlibacy, by stigmatizing all that affect it with the name of whores,
rogues, and hypocrites; and if that prevails, we gain our point, and
widow’d Heaven may bid good-night to mankind. For if we get them into
our noose, we may be sure of our purchase. Let none therefore loyter
away his time in tempting the marry’d; for one woman will out-do a
legion of you.
_For since their grandame_ Eve _in_ Eden _fell,_
_The_ sex _has learnt the damning trade so well,_
_Where e’er that rules, there’s little need of hell_.
[Illustration]
_The Belgic_ HERO _Unmask’d_;
IN A
DIALOGUE
BETWEEN
Sir _Walter Rawleigh_ and _Aaron Smith_.
Sir _Walter_. Hold thy impertinent tongue, I say, thou everlasting
babbler, or----
_Smith._ Come, come, we lawyers are not so easily silenc’d as you think.
Liberty of speech is one of the eldest branches of _magna charta_;
therefore I will once more maintain it, before all the world, that the
reign of my late _Batavian_ master, was in every respect equal to that
of the famous _Elizabeth_.
Sir _Walter_. Not that is’t worth my while to enter the list with such a
petty-fogging dog as thou art, or the cause in debate admits any manner
of parallel: but since thou hast the impudence to defend so monstrous a
paradox before all this company, inform us what noble things this hero
has perform’d, to deserve all that nauseous idle flattery, which hardly
none but _Sectarists_, _Deists_, _Republicans_, and particularly the
rascals of thy kidney, when he was alive, conspir’d to give him.
_Smith._ Why, in the first place, he deliver’d _England_, then just upon
the brink of being devour’d by arbitrary power and popery. He won the
noble battle of the _Boyne_, reduc’d _Ireland_, appeas’d the disorders
of _Scotland_, reap’d a new harvest of glory every campaign in
_Flanders_, and at last, after an obstinate expensive war, forc’d a
haughty tyrant, who had insulted and bully’d the whole christian world
for almost forty years, to clap up a peace with him upon his own terms
at _Ryswick_, by which he was oblig’d to vomit up numberless provinces
and towns, which he had dishonourably stollen from their true
proprietors.
Sir _Walter_. And as for his personal qualities, what have you to say of
them?
_Smith._ Whether you behold him at home or abroad, in the cabinet or the
field; in fine, whether you consider him as a king, a general, a
statesman, a husband, or a master, you’ll find his character uniformly
bright in all these relative stations: affectionate to his queen,
merciful to his subjects, liberal to his servants, careful of his
soldiers, and providing, by his great wisdom, against all future
contingencies that might hereafter disturb the tranquillity of _Europe_.
But as for his munificence to his servants and favourities, I may
venture to say, that few princes in history ever went so far as he.
Sir _Walter_. This last clause is not so great a commendation to him as
you imagine.--Well, and is this all, for I wou’d not willingly interrupt
you, ’till you have gone the full length of your panegyrick?
_Smith._ ’Tis all I think needful to say upon the occasion, and enough,
in my opinion, to establish his reputation to to all succeeding ages.
Sir _Walter_. Let us carefully examine the several particulars; and when
we have so done, we shall be able to determine on what side the truth
lies--_Imprimis_, you tell me he deliver’d _England_ from tyranny and
popish superstition: but was there no other way of accomplishing his
deliverance, but by sending a certain relation to grass, and wounding
the monarchy in so tender a part, which had suffer’d so terribly in the
late unnatural rebellion of 41? If what one of the ancient fathers says,
be true, that the whole world is not worth the saving, at the expence of
a single lye, surely _Great Britain_, which makes so small a part of the
universe, hardly deserv’d to be deliver’d from an imaginary ruin with so
much perjury, infidelity, and ingratitude. Besides, he solemnly
protested in his declaration, that he had no intention to make himself
king, yet he excercis’d the regal power the very moment he landed: so
that unless there had been a crown in the case, I am afraid he would
hardly have cross’d the water to rescue the church of _England_.
_Smith._ This is indeed what his enemies and some envious people have
objected to him.
Sir _Walter_. Nothing of that can be laid to my charge, who was never
known to your hero either _Beneficio_ or _Injuria_; but as I still
preserve an invincible affection for my native country, my zeal for the
welfare of that, makes me assume this freedom. To be plain with you
then, I can hardly believe he had any extraordinary concern for the
prosperity of _England_, upon whom he threw the greatest burden of the
war; whose troops he suffer’d to fight without their pay, in _Flanders_,
at the same time when a parcel of unworthy foreigners had store of gold
and silver in their pockets. Neither can any man perswade me he had the
least affection for the royal family, from which he was descended, who
suffer’d such numberless invectives and libels to be publish’d against
his royal grandfather, both his uncles, and, in short, the whole family
of the _Stuarts_, yet never call’d any of the authors or printers to an
account for’t during the whole course of his reign.
_Smith._ Aye, but a hero, you know, has other business to mind, than the
_bagatelles_ of the press.
Sir _Walter_. And yet this hero could condescend to mind these
_bagatelles_, as you call them, with a witness, whenever they were
levell’d against himself or his favourites. But to proceed,--can any one
in his senses believe, that this deliverer ever set the monarchy and
true constitution of _England_ to heart, under whose reign all the
democratical treatises, both of this and the last age, were not only
publish’d with impunity, but the abettors of such villainous doctrine,
thought the only persons that were in the true interest of the nation,
and deserving to be preferr’d? Was _England_ so utterly destitute of
able generals, that a regicide, proscrib’d by act of parliament, must be
sent for over to head our forces in _Ireland_?
_Smith._ You’ll never leave off harping upon this string.
Sir _Walter_. And lastly, have we not very violent reasons to suspect,
that he never had any true hearty concern for the protestant interest,
whatever he pretended to the contrary, who so notoriously sacrific’d it
at the treaty of _Ryswick_; who, to enable him to carry on the late
revolution against his uncle and father-in-law, enter’d into a league;
one of the first articles of which, was, to oblige the king of _France_
to do justice to the usurpations of the _Roman_ see? And lastly, who, if
he had no aversion, had certainly no affection for the church of
_England_, the support, as well as ornament of the whole reformation,
which evidently appear’d by his bestowing its best preferments upon
_illos quos pingere nola_, a sett of moderate lukewarm gentlemen, that
were willing (good men) to throw up the constitution, whenever their
enemies should ask them the question. What shall I say of others, that
were advanc’d for no other merit, but because they had been justly
punish’d in former reigns for their seditious practices, or descended
from _Oliverian_ parents; or lastly, because they held antimonarchical
and antihierarchical doctrine, both in pulpit and press, which they
honestly call’d free-thinking?
_Smith._ Nay, this is mere calumny; for can any thing but the blackest
envy presume: to attack him upon the score of religion?
Sir _Walter_. For once I’ll spare his religion, yet ’tis certain his
ministers had not the least tincture of it. To the eternal honour of his
reign, be it observ’d, all the _Socinian_ treatises that stole into the
world in the late accursed times of licentiousness and disorder, were
fairly reprinted, and these, together with the modern improvements of
_Deism_, fold in the face of the sun, without the least check or
discountenance from any at the helm: ’twas come to that pitch at last,
that a man might better call the divinity of our Saviour into question,
than the legality of that revolution; and safer insult the ashes of king
_James_ the 1st, _Charles the martyr_, and the whole royal line, than
attack such a lew’d, perjur’d, infamous scoundrel as _Oates_. ’Tis a
general maxim, that the court always steers its course _ad Exemplum
Cæsaris_; and that a shrewd guess may be made of a prince’s morals, by
those of his ministers. If this observation holds good, a man would find
himself strangely tempted to say some rash things of your monarch, which
good manners and decency oblige me to pass over in silence.
_Smith._ But still you say nothing of _Ireland_.
Sir _Walter_. Far be it from me to do detract in the least from any
man’s actions: But this, I think, I may affirm, without the least
suspicion of malice, that the exploit of the _Boyne_, every thing
consider’d, is not altogether so miraculous as his flattering divines
and courtiers would represent it; for, after all, where was the wonder,
that a well-disciplin’d regular army should defeat an unfortunate
dispirited monarch, with none but a few raw, unpractis’d, naked troops
about him? and then his giving the forfeited estates there to his
minions, in open contradiction to what he had promised the parliament,
does not seem to argue so great a concern for keeping his word. As for
_Scotland_, the subversion of episcopacy, and murder of the
_Glencow-men_, (not to mention the perpetuating of the convention,
during his whole reign, and by that means depriving the country of
electing proper members) will, I believe, look so frightful in future
story, that few of your heroe’s flatterers will mention the
administration of that kingdom to his credit.
_Smith._ Well then, but _Fanders_?
Sir _Walter_. I thank you for reminding me of it. I am of opinion then,
that, bating _Namure_, he might have put all the glorious harvests he
yearly reap’d there, into his eye, and not have prejudic’d his royal
sight in the least. However, as I know full well what a mighty advantage
one powerful prince, that commands by his own single authority, has over
a many-headed confederacy, where all are commanders I scorn to insist
upon this point. For this reason I will not enumerate, nor enlarge upon
the constant ill success that everlastingly attended him in _Flanders_,
but come to the peace of _Ryswick_, which was his own proper act and
deed. And here ’tis worth our observing, that by his leaving the poor
emperor in the lurch, the city of _Strasburg_ unluckily continu’d in the
_French_ hands; and that either out of want of politicks or a zeal for
their religion, he made no stipulations for the _German Protestants_,
nor took the least care to have them restor’d to those churches, of
which they had been unjustly dispossess’d in the war.
_Smith._ Well, but necessity, you know, may make a man sometimes act
contrary to his inclination.
Sir _Walter_. Why then did his parasites give out, That he was the
controller of the peace, and forc’d the _French_ king to accept of it
upon his own terms.--But not to mention a thousand other things that
might be said upon this occasion, for I begin to grow weary of the
subject, to stop my mouth for good and all, and convince thee how far
superior in all the arts of governing the immortal _Elizabeth_ was to
thy _taciturn Hero_, I’ll first give thee a short sketch of her golden
reign, and afterwards honestly and impartially shew thee a prospect of
the other:
_Smith._ With all my heart, proceed.
Sir _Walter_. As my mistress had a true _English_ heart, and made the
prosperity of her people the only business of her life, she suffer’d
none of her ministers to crave to themselves extravagant fortunes out of
the publick purse. Tho’ foreigners flock’d into her dominions as a
certain asylum, yet she never encourag’d them to the detriment of her
native subjects, nor imploy’d them in foreign embassies, nor admitted
them into her councils: her affairs being manag’d with equal prudence
and integrity, and encouragements properly distributed, no wonder she
was so fortunate in all her attempts. Thus we find she supported the
protestants in _France_ against the oppression of the _Guises_, and so
well assisted the _Dutch_ in the infancy of their republick, that
_Philip_ II of _Spain_, with all his forces, was not able to reduce
them. She was so far from bellowing her royal favours upon the
sectaries, that she suppress’d their growing insolence with wholesome
laws, and was as careful to see them put in Execution. She could display
all her father’s magnificence, when there was a proper occasion to exert
it; at other times, she observ’d a strict parsimony, equally
advantageous to her own subjects, and easy to herself. The establish’d
church flourish’d so well under her auspicious administration, that
_England_ never saw so glorious a constellation of reverend bishops and
learned divines, as in her reign. She retrieved the honour of the
_Exchequer_, and manag’d her payments so wisely, that her people thought
their money as safe in her coffers as in their own.---- Now, your
deliverer’s reign was the exact reverse of this happy scene. Schism and
faction advanc’d, hypocrisy and dulness, under the disguise of
reformation, promoted to the highest honours, deism propagated, the true
genuine sons of the church discourag’d, foreigners admitted into our
private councils, trade neglected, our narrow seas daily insulted, the
publick impoverish’d, the treasury exhausted and pillag’d by insatiable
cormorants, the reputation of our arms decay’d and sunk, the sea-man
starv’d, the soldiers paid with paper; in short, nothing but ill
management and poverty at home, and infamy abroad.---- And this I think
is sufficient to shew you, that you were mightily mistaken, when you
compar’d you know who to the immortal _Elizabeth_.
_The End of the Second Volume._
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Kings of_ Spain.
[2] _Author of_ St. Bartholomew_’s_.
[3] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[4] Scarron.
[5] _Maintenon._
[6] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[7] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[8] _Father_ la Chaise.
[9] _The murderer of_ Henry IV.
[10] Grandvil _hang’d in_ Flanders, _for attempting to kill King_
William.
[11] _King_ William.
[12] Lewis XIV.
[13] _A place out of the reach of cannon._
[14] Scarron.
[15] _Great houses near_ Paris.
[16] Hermitage _near_ Paris.
[17] _Queen_ Catharine _of_ Spain.
[18] _Father_ Pahours, _Father_ le Mene, _Jesuits_.
[19] Charles V.
[20] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[21] Scarron.
[22] _Madam_ Maintenon _was born in_ Martineco.
[23] Don Carlos.
[24] Elizabeth _of_ France.
[25] Don John _of_ Austria.
[26] _The two Royal Houses of_ France _and_ Spain.
[27] _Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam._
[28] _Monks._
[29] _Two ancient poets._
[30] _Two modern poets._
[31] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[32] _A_ French _poet, whom_ Boileau _makes free with in his first
satire, and elsewhere_.
[33] _Madam_ la Valiere.
[34] _Madam_ de Fontagne.
[35] _Madam_ de Montespan.
[36] _The nuns of St._ Cyril.
[37] West-Indies.
[38] _The Nunnery of St._ Cyril.
[39] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[40] _The voluminous author of_ Cleopatra.
[41] _He means the late King_ James.
[42] _A_ French _Proverb for_ no conscience.
[43] England.
[44] _Dr._ B----re.
[45] _Stanzas of_ Nostradamus.
[46] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[47] _Madam_ Maintenon.
[48] _Madam_ Montespan.
[49] _A proverb in_ French _for a fat large monk or abbot_. Cochon _is_
French _for a hog_.
[50] _Pulpit._
[51] _The quire._
[52] _Kitchen._
[53] _Bawdy-house._
[54] More commonly call’d with us _Boileau_.
[55] The taking down the image of our Saviour, and setting up the
_French_ king’s in the room of it, occasioned this distich,
_Abstulit hinc Iesum, posuitque insignia regis_
_Impia gens; alium non habet illa Deum._
[56] Over the door of the great hall of the _Invalides_, he is drawn
guiding the chariot of the sun, with beams of glory round his head,
and a thunderbolt in his hand, the four quarters of the world kneeling
before him in a very humble posture, and the motto is, _Je plais a
tous_.
[57] _The devil laughs every now and then._
[58] _The devils all laugh at his negative proof._
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
have his his fortune told=> have his fortune told {pg 3}
love’s little tabernacle’s=> love’s little tabernacles {pg 5}
which antient historians tells us=> which antient historians tell us {pg
5}
was going to say to say something=> was going to say something {pg 10}
be pimp to noblemens=> be pimp to noblemen’s {pg 16}
should be excedingly beholden=> should be exceedingly beholden {pg 17}
whenevever my circumstances=> whenever my circumstances {pg 34}
continually tormented with with=> continually tormented with {pg 36}
that abominable dedegree=> that abominable degree {pg 43}
poor under-tradesmens families=> poor under-tradesmen’s families {pg 46}
that set set him to work=> that set him to work {pg 55}
in so dubious and enterprize?=> in so dubious an enterprize? {pg 56}
If I am not now dispossessed=> if I am not now dispossessed {pg 58}
mens consciences=> men’s consciences {pg 61}
your your fame is infinite=> your fame is infinite {pg 61}
I re-entred=> I re-entered {pg 86}
charm’d with with the conversation=> charm’d with the conversation {pg
89}
licentiousuess reign’d=> licentiousness reign’d {pg 90}
knowing my inlinations=> knowing my inclinations {pg 100}
as it is as present> as it is at present {pg 103}
more especiolly=> more especially {pg 106}
the lusciour morsels=> the luscious morsels {pg 106}
his farher, had quite another=> his father, had quite another {pg 117}
two bunchis a penny=> two bunches a penny {pg 122}
from flesh and dbloo=> from flesh and blood {pg 124}
you may them judge=> you may then judge {pg 125}
where it possible=> were it possible {pg 141}
of the famale fern=> of the female fern {pg 144}
courtiers and and not me=> courtiers and not me {pg 146}
by the hogshhead=> by the hogshead {pg 149}
and pentensions=> and pretensions {pg 155}
their cheifest delight=> their chiefest delight {pg 156}
listen to this trembling lays=> listen to his trembling lays {pg 159}
thar the king=> that the king {pg 159}
Isarelites=> Israelites {pg 161}
all affairs are keep in motion=> all affairs are kept in motion {pg 161}
spill your tobacco, break your gasses=> spill your tobacco, break your
glasses {pg 163}
character of gurantees=> character of guarantees {pg 165}
sheding of blood=> shedding of blood {pg 168}
sieges aftewards=> sieges afterwards {pg 168}
covetuous lechers=> covetous lechers {pg 168}
of a a republick=> of a republick {pg 172}
even that unparalled=> even that unparalleled {pg 174}
ambassador’s at the Port=> ambassadors at the Port {pg 174}
confounded at his disapment=> confounded at his disappointment {pg 174}
at such blaspemous=> at such blasphemous {pg 175}
indeed we we are=> indeed we are {pg 178}
Think we, we here’s=> Think we, here’s {pg 188}
preceiving, exercised=> perceiving, exercised {pg 189}
wits every foolishly=> wits very foolishly {pg 190}
enquiry with with his=> enquiry with his {pg 190}
if I had deen=> if I had been {pg 195}
set my set my wits=> set my wits {pg 196}
lie heave=> lie heavy {pg 200}
so to tell you the truth=> So to tell you the truth {pg 213}
crushed them them into=> crushed them into {pg 216}
some women were masks=> some women wear masks {pg 221}
and and leave=> and leave {pg 223}
loathsome goal=> loathsome gaol {pg 223}
were lawn coversluts=> wear lawn coversluts {pg 224}
were blue and yellow=> wear blue and yellow {pg 224}
food were silken ornaments=> food wear silken ornaments {pg 224}
women were turrets=> women wear turrets {pg 225}
and and I long=> and I long {pg 233}
if any dody had=> if any body had {pg 236}
your are sensible=> you are sensible {pg 236}
make yor rich=> make you rich {pg 240}
am heartly resolv’d=> am heartily resolv’d {pg 242}
in in the time=> in the time {pg 244}
empty cupboad=> empty cupboard {pg 245}
run up and dow muttering=> run up and down muttering {pg 247}
reputation fron stinking=> reputation from stinking {pg 251}
few maxims in famale=> few maxims in female {pg 255}
Itailan=> Italian {pg 270}
Philosophers bodies=> Philosophers’ bodies {pg 271}
but espcially the=> but especially the {pg 278}
Charles Sidly=> Charles Sidley {pg 278}
Chancer=> Chaucer {pg 279}
scur’d by a brace=> secur’d by a brace {pg 283}
it order to make me a=> in order to make me a {pg 283}
meaning of that world=> meaning of that word {pg 294}
aversus equss TYRIA=> aversus equoss TYRIA {pg 295}
glass or or two=> glass or two {pg 299}
and when he has it in her pocket=> and when she has it in her pocket {pg
301}
speaks to a another=> speaks to another {pg 311}
mam of wit=> man of wit {pg 312}
I do humby suppose=> I do humbly suppose {pg 319}
great deal of mony=> great deal of money {pg 320}
Partick’s purgatory=> Patrick’s purgatory {pg 322}
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.