Orbilius Vapulans OR A Juniper Lecture FOR A Moth. eaten Sch●●● By the Author of the Coffee Scuffle. Torva-Mimalloneis implerunt Cornua bombis, 〈◊〉 rapium vitulo caput ablatura superbo Bassaris, & lyncem Maenas flexura corymbis, Evion ingeminat, reparabilis adsonat Echo: Persii. Sat 1. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: When I do well, fanatics ill do prate: Each Loyal soul must still expect my fate. London, Printed in the Year, 1662. Orbilius Vapulans A Riddle. Unfold this Riddle Corydon or Jynx, Who's He that is both Oedipus and Sphynx? The Solution. It is the Doughty Pedagogue I ween With Flounder's face, Hog's snout, & Grinders keen, Who Coffee drank, and then disgorged the Scum In Verse, preferred to many a Loyal bum; Evans ap Shone's, ap Morgan, are his names He flew from Penmen-maure to th'banks of Thames HOld good Knock sergus! but have Drones their stings? May Pedagogus, and such inferior things, Thus play the Tyrants, stamp upon the Stage, Outstorme an Hector, and like Bravoes rage? Rods into Sceptres Bloom, Peasants, commence Dictator's now, Quintilian act's the Prince; School's Flourish into Courts, and each bold wight, Is a Fanatic or a Parasite. Hark how he greets me, ho! at what a rate He compliments! I challenge Billings gate From the crab Trull, unto the Oyster Quean To forge a name more ugly and obscene, Than are the best, the most refined of these; Mephytis sink of all scurrilities! The ●●●sty Lyric in feverer rhymes ne'er lashed the Drolls, and babblers of the Times; Nor Caesar's Favourite with greater rage Kicked the Grammarians off the Roman Stage, Then this proud Sciolist, absurd Pedant (But that he doth their wit and learning want) Gib's his Antagonist: Good Gaffer hold! So the poor Cuckold did in Plautus' scold. Avaunt Jack Cleaveland! see you come not nigh, By forty foot! E. is too hard for I: You whose each Verse could discipline a Drab, That by't like Scorpions, like Stillettos stab; You that could with a Drop of Ink, no more Make Adoniram run, and Marshal roar; You that could murder with a single shot The motley Synod, and the Rebel Scot; Fell Monster born with teeth, strung all with wire, A Wolf thy Nurse, a Dragon was thy Sire! Here is the Poet Jack, ay! here is he None of the fuddling gang, whose fantasy Floats with the liquor, doth augment and grow, Fall, dwindle'as the Goblets ebb and flow. Such Greek and Latin lines the fool doth draw As Virgil never scanned, nor Homer saw. But tell me good Sir Knight, pray why is it You thus engage yourself sans fear or wit? What Windmill, Umbra, Maypole, Zealous sir Offends your Gizzard, that you thus bestir The weapons of your Warrfare? when by chance 'Tis but the Spectre that doth frisk and dance In your own fancy; Anagrams declare Yet him conceal whose name the letters bear. Fie wretched Codrus! thus to fret and vex For nothing! Brawls so well become your sex? Knave, Rascal, Villain, Hellhound, Hector, Sor, Groom, Hangman, Scullion, Pickthank and what not? Smooth Epethits in truth, so women use For Recreation sake to disabuse Themselves, so the meek and dissenting Saint Doth Loyal Levy brand and represent: Britannicus, Cretensis breath in you The Youngling Elder, and Smectymnuus too▪ 'Tis one thing Sir to punish and chastise A stubborn boy whose immoralities Call for severer censures, but withal Another thing to Scuffle for the Ball. You smite his lewd posteriours, he poor thing After one stroke about your knees doth cling, Kisses the rod: while the bold enemy Kicks at the hand, and spurns the penalty. Suppose young Phaethon crack his Father's Whip, Scourges Pyroeis, makes old Phlegon skip, Wots you the angry steeds will softly go, And not the wain and Giddy Guide o'erthrow? If Beasts, if Worms, and Flies disdain, abhor Affronts and Injuries, sure men much more. I cannot bear it (Lord) I cannot do't, Say every lash did slay a sin to boot, A mortal sin; suppose this instant were Good-Friday, and the man my confessor; Faith were I stripped of flesh, were I refined Into a shadow, were the spirit and mind The bigger half, had the Promethean fire Rarified nature from its dregs and mire: A ring, a ring (Brave Boys) I neither fear, His frown, nor Court his smile, the Wooden Bear, Rod, ferula, slight poor and trivial Tools Made for to fray and scare chitts, changelings, fools; Be still a while, nor me i'th' least annoy, I am resolved to act the Stubborn boy. And yet methinks what e'er the vixen says, 'tis some small comfort to be lashed with Bays, Smart Rods but sweet! a Satirist both claws And bites at once! Black Monday makes white boys. Instruction is like Physic, less or more May be received at the Postern door. Me thinks I could even strip myself, expose My naked loins unto the stripes and blows Of an Ingenious hand, could hear him crack The threefold cord, Blow furrows on my back; But to be bastinadoed by a base And forbidden Rascal, to expose my face To slaves, to have my Groom (whose villainies The skittish Colt did with his hoof chastise) To cuff and kick me, to o'reheare a sot, A Tyro, Dunce, a Fool, call Idiot; This, this would even enrage, provoke, incense A man of Marble, try the patience Of Job, make Socrates himself to mutter An Israelite repine, and Moses stutter. Nor say Ingenious Souls can'er be led To curse, to slander, and molest the dead; Kick bones about the streets, rifle the Urns Of Priests and Princes, clip the Flame that burns In the still grot, blow ashes here and there, As Winds whiff meteors to and fro i'th' air: If Grotius be an Heretic, a son Of the old Whore, he was a Learned one; If not, let nothing that is vile be said; Speak well behind his back, the Lion's dead. They're Wolves and Tigers will not wink, and spare The quiet Trunks, and silent heaps that are In Tombs, whom Cerecloths do defend and keep, And on whose locks, Stones, Day, and Marbles Weep: And he that shall display the nakedness Of a dead father, not at all confess A blush, deride scoff at the modest man That turns his head, call't superstition, This wretch transcends the Devil and his Dam May he be son and heir to cursed Cham! And thou Religious soul how couldst thou choose, But bleed to see the Miscreant abuse Those sacred Crumms? and in a holy rage (For passion thou hast none) ascend the Stage Chide the Sacrilegist? who now defies Thee and the Goblin, tells a thousand lies. How couldst thou suffer an indignity From such a Worm, a Myrmidon as he And not have gi'n the Crows him presently? Come forth thou sonn of Mars, unsheathe thy blade, Send his black Soul into the Stygian shade; Where grizly firends with sharp and flaming rods Preach justice, and submission to the gods. Know you that were spectators at that time, None held their peace but did abet the crime: Call it not Peccadillo▪ little, small; 'Twas gross, 'twas devilish, it was national. Say had the Combat been twixt thee and I, The Latin Moth, and the poor English fly; The Frog and Mouse that in the Fable were, The Humble be, and the incensed Bear; Woe worth thy days, poor Taffee, splutternayles, Her would have sent her packing into Wales With a blind Gipsy and a pass: for all▪ Her pedigree and monthly veils not small. But oh the Pamphlet! oh! the monstrous rag Blown to and fro, 'twould make one break his Cragg To read the Libel, faith it seems to me No other than a sucking prodigy. Did ever London see, good Gossip speak A Romish bantling with an English Beak? Brekekekex, the Empusa appears, Runaway Jack and he that lost his ears, Old Hugh, blind Milton, Jeamy, Zepheniah The Savoy Woolf, lewd Ned great Obadiah Ne'er Fathered such a mome, the Son and Heir Of some light wanton Incubus I swear. The two legged Puppy that the elders made Keneled: for lusty swash forsooth had laid His tail in Jeanys lap, the shagged Moor That a fair Madam by a Monkey bore; The Scotch spread Eagle which (the Legends say) A holy Sister hatched the other day, Add Filly foal to boot, the hopeful Heir Of Green the Quaker, and old Rouen his Mare; None of all these a sweeter Moppet was, Trust me it is a dainty babe of grace. Was ever man so gross, so damned a fool! An English Title and a Latin Scroll? Right Sturbridg Ware, a Linsy Woolsy pack, Party perpale, Tiff dashed with nobler Sack; Greek, Latin, English, jumbled in one sheet, Bombolobombaxe and Alastor meet. A Learned Weaver (if I han't mistook) Fixed a Greek Title to an English Book; The Whipping Presbyter though much to blame Christen's a Scotch Barn with a Romish name; But never any man played such a trick As this (without a scoff) a cuff, a kick Is thy desert; it had been well if you Had wrote the Prologue in red letters too. The Coffee Scoffer cuffed and kicked, a bold And odious Title! Skittish jades of old Kick harmless passengers: but then I fegs They clap bolts, padlocks, trammells on their legs. O thou mischievous Beast, plague worse than frogs And lice, kick me no kicks! go kick your dogs Your slaves, your boys, get to your school there you Are Tyrant Tray tor, Judge and hangman too. Thinkest then proud Caitiff any man will be So much a dolt? as to be spurned by thee? By thee base worm! proud Pedant, Mushroom, Slave To every shit- breech boy and pistay'l knave? No no pimp, prickear, villain, dandyprat, (An Object fit for contempt then hate) I scorn thy threats (by Kate and Ixion's wheels) Kick once more Sir: I'll lay you by the heels: And leave you no more ears, (by Bucer's bones) Then 'tis reported Captain M. ᵈ hath stones. But had the Romans such good hands and hoofs, Played they at football, and at fisticuffs? Sure no! The sword, the bow, the warlike spear Become the camp, the Amphitheatre: Yet heels do not amiss, what e'er you say First they offend, and then they run away. But oh 'tis not enough (bold knave) for thee To kick thy foe but he must slandered be; Dirt, Ordure, filth is thrown in every part; As if so be you'd studied the black Art; Had vowed, resolved to render me deform, And ugly as thyself, vile worthless worm! I am a scoffer! thou a liar art! And though five thousand devils take thy part I'll prove the charge; the place and company No Gentleman doth more revere than I: There the accomplished and ingenious Knight Gives Oracles; there do the sons of light And peace meet in a convocation; there The subtle and profound Philosopher Reads Lectures; there the Learned Doctors meet Discourse the Patient to his winding sheet; There the pale Chemist, waking with the Cock Tells how he stripped dame Nature to her smock; There the dark Statist in a corner sits Talks Matchivell, condemns the vulgar wits; There the grave Lawyer stroak's his beard and talks Not of Spring▪ Garden or of Grayes-Inn Walks, But of old Records; Archimedes sonn Numbers the sands, and spans the Horizon; There the rich Merchants one another please With news of loss and gain, of winds and seas; Dons, Mounsieurs, Segneours, in their language speak, The sullen Jew salutes the merry Greek; And there the pevish Pedagogue intrudes Himself, breeds quarrels, distances and feuds. The Company I love, nor do I less Applaud the Liquor: none but will confess The worth of Coffee: Pagans, Turks and Jews This sovereign drink as food and Physic use. The Boon Companion whom the wine deprives Of Reason, drinks a Dish and strait retrives His wont sense; the Studious Scholar keeps Hereby his Eyelids from encroaching sleeps; This tunes the tongue, strikes on that sacred Lute, While other liquids render persons mute. Who's now the Coffee Scoffer? who derides This Panacaea? is't not he that prides Himself in Bugbear terms, in crabbed names, Riddles, Aenigmas, Problems, Anagrams? Right John Pontaeus, so the knave delights To call his Papers by hard Epithets. Sphynx, Sibyl, and Medea, none of these With all their Mistick knots, and subtleties; Nor all the cunning women you can find Can play the Midwife to the Author's mind: Riddle the Riddle, it is worth my pains For to transcribe it, O they're lofty strains! A Riddle. What man and matter tell me friends with speed Doth scribble lies and filthy flies doth feed? The Solution. woollen breeds Moths (a wretch whom I did name That hath no wit, no worth, no grace, no shame) And in such haste, a galloper in'deed! Must you be answered and with so much speed? Are flies, and Moths, such little things as they Matters of such importance, no delay? Is scribbling Treason? is to tell a fibb So great a crime? for so the Pygotrib Insinuats; to feed such dorrs as the Worms, Creepers, Trencher Flies such villainy? Grant that I am a Moth, 'twould be a shame For you to cope with me, but little fame Results from such a fight, each fool I faith Can brush a Garment, whisk a Moth to death. O thou mischievous wretch, thou wicked one! Maligner of a reputation Too large for thee to grasp! my nature, name Bold Ignoramus cross thy Anagram: woollen breeds Moths, I pity thee poor fool! My name and calling neither Moth nor Wool, Me thinks you might have found an Elegy More pertinent, Wasp, Lyzard, Gold fly; Why not the prodigal, the Widow's Groat Young Annanias, something made of nought; Lo these are Scripture names and would have done The feat, Moth fits not my Vocation. But wit's a perilous ape! and Poets may Have Licenses sometimes to go a stray: A Pegasus may trip, the Delphian Choir May sing a wrong tune to the Sacred lyre: Lies are but fables, fables the effect Of a good fancy: Pish 'twas a neglect! Although I do excuse the little faults And frieks of Scholars, fancy great assaults By lesser Brawls, yet I abominate A Rabsheka: a God's name let'em prate, Wrangle till domes day, to eternity Barr they base Names, and filthy Ribaldry. Say he's a fiend, a Devil that shall go Not only to debase, but damn his foe; First in a Joke insinuate his name Than say he hath no wit, no grace, no shame. Ambitious Mortal that shall make himself Searcher of hearts! base, vile blasphemous elf! Are you and Heaven such good friends I wiss? Be Frogs fit Cronies for great Hercules? What Pigeon hath been billing in your ear? Who told thee so? thou son of Lucifer! To say I have no wit is as I live An injury that I could ne'er forgive: Did I not reflect on the Author, He Is but a wittol that doth censure me. To say I have no grace, if not a flam A bold Assertion, Grace is like a dram Of Mustard seed, too small, minute I ween To be by such an Owl and Buzzard seen. Were you ingenious, you would be loath To gyre a person that's devoid of both: A graceless fool is the most sad, forlorn Person, object of pity not of scorn. Ingeniously I can't but thank you Sir For this your charitable character: And would retort the like but that insooth I should thereby constrain you to speak Truth. Know herein lies my wit, thou prating pie! That I can hear thy scoffs so patiently; Herein my modesty is manifest I blush to read thy lines, although the best; And for mygrace, lo hence it doth appear, All my revenge shall be an honest prayer; O thou that lookest from the Starry place Send Him more wit (good Lord) and I more grace! And yet he doth but jest, but gratifies A pleasant humour, these are Moths & flies Puns, quibles quillets, trifles, tricks & toys The sport of wise men, and the pride of boys: But now he rails down right, in earnest flings Brands about streets, cuts, Carbanadoes, stings; Was ever Whelp so fierce? his looks would put A woman to the squeak, disperse and rout A file of Red-coats; how his tangled mane Stairs on his crest! his eyes transmit a flame Fatal as Basilisks, his bloody beak Wars, Massacres, and desolation speak; Forth with he gripes his fist, bites, gnaws the rod Kicks boys like footballs, now he calls on God To clear his innocence, in the next breath Invocates hell, and all the fiends beneath. Fury, Frenetick, Cycophant, the source Of vice, Madcap, old, Pluto's Hobby-horse, Brazen-face, meal-mouth, pale Megaera's rod, Young Thracian, the scourge and Plague of God; Base Cutthroat, Rakehell, Wild-asse, Galley slave, Ripe for the Hang man, Puppy, Coxcomb, Knave, Wolf, Monkey, Lion, Leopard, Beast of Prey, Kite, Fly, Dor, Drone, Mouse, Creeper such as they; Jack-puding, Glutton Hang by, Conjuror Dreamer, Groom, Dunghill, Serpent, Barking cur; These are the protty names (' sides fool and rogue) This is the manners of the Pedagogue! Say not that he's ho Poet, that the man Hath a bad fancy it cannot be! who can Invent so many names? but Welsh-men be Well read we say in Genealogy▪ What you a Master? I a wretched one! A Hang man, (every beggar is a Don In Spain, I do confess,) you govern, guide Untoward boys, who cannot rule your pride! But bold Pedant, if the assertions true Your Belly is the Master and not you: And all the Art you have, is how to cram That endless gut, and all devouring womb. Say not you honour Grotius, lest hereby You make yourself to be the prodigy. A double Tongue is like a Cloven Foot Both monstrous are, alas 'tis to no boot For thee to talk of Tully, not a line Of his thou understand'st base Catiline! Corderius, Textor, Cate, such as these Are books for thee; if Tully's Offices Be not too hard, you might do well to read Them also, for good manners you much need. Nor gratify yourself with splended names Presumptuous Epithets: his worth and fame's But small, who is constrained! unhappy elf To live unknown, or to applaud himself. Fancy thyself not Swan, or Turtle, neither: Borrow your honour from a plume, a feather Batt's, Ravens, Screetch-oules, night▪ birds, Pelican's, A gagling Goose among a flock of Swans, Even such Art thou proud fool, I do presume You will when dying sing another tune. The melancholy man that did conceit Himself an ass, thought that his hands were feet, Was tentime's more excusable than thee For that he had at least humility. If I break Priscian's pate, a rods in piss For poor Peel▪ garlic, and forsooth it is His ignorance: He plucks him limb from limb What's folly in his boy, is wit in him. Was ever Meore, Mahometan, or Jew, So barbarous, to cut a man in two? Saw him asunder, Priscian thou shalt be Styld Martyr hence, another Jeremy, Pox on your Malmsy Nose, a beastly sight You cannot see for't it, obstruct's your light: I did not say you had the Crincums', not Or that you snuffled or did straddling go; Who would be plagued with his conscience thus? You say yourself your Citheriacus: 'Twere very sad indeed if every one That ronched was frenchefyed, no pox but one? Yet's not impossible, the devil wait's for The backsome Girl and doting Bachelor, Angles for such as these, a David may Have a bad fall, a precious Lambkin stray, An Ephrim wax stiff, Tabytha fail, Lidy, and Prisse may have an itching Tail, Than do not blame me 'twas my love to thee My tenderness, a holy jealousy. You King it in the Scufflle, climb a Throne, And to your Sceptre, Diadem, and Throne You ha' since annexed a palace and a Queen, An ample Study and your book I ween; I wish the issue and posterity That spring and do derive from them and thee Mae be more Beautiful, Fair, Virtuous too Than any of thy brats were hitherto. May they be sons of strength, of joy and mirth May no more kick and struggle in the birth! I'll say but this: I never saw a heap Of viler things▪ odd numbers; only speak Envy, and hatred, fury, passion, rage, But as for wit and fancy, scarce a Page A line, of all the scroll: Alas poor Poet, So mere a droll a dunce and yet not know it. One while he plays the thief, anon the liar Now he condemns the Doctor, than the Squire; Sometimes he claws the Knight, with odious Names Pelts me; anon he slights and spurns Sir James: In the same breath he rails and doth cologue Calls pretty youth, and rope deservign rogue: I cant but grieve, methinks I could condole With the poor boys that suffer the control Of such a furioso, wretched Maevi! His pens no sharper than his hand is heavy. If he doth lord and domineer o'er one That scorns his rule, and domination, How much a Tyrant is he over ye Whom he can punish by authority? Though I ne'er played the Orator, nor may I ever hope (could I) to beg a play For you poor Lads, I am resolved to Lash the cursed pedant as he scourges you: And make him know for all his cracks, and lies, That Moths have stings as well as Gnats and Flies. Paean Triumphalis JO libemus merum Coprio Jovi, Et dijs minorum Gentium; Cloacinaeque matri pandamas Sa●rum, Quippe occidit pedantius; Jacetque pueri dextra confossus Dares Mordens arenam dentibus: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Magister ignorantiae; Qui semi paganus sacra Vatum polluit Lacinioso carmine; Et puriores rivulos immi scuit Smectimnianis sordibu●. Circumforaneum vah mendicabulum Labes popelli Cambrici! Quem Campis faetidum gurgustidonijs Enixa fertur spurca sus: Triobolaris histrio; metri sutor Flagri Dynastes pessime; Hircine maevi; terrae ac caelorumodium, Cerberi fastidium; Speras te curru considentem eburneo Ferire summo Vertice Stellas, easque Evantis (proh quanti viri) Umbram sequaces lambere! I, licet ad urbem cuculorum in nubibus Mortalium stultissime! Et tandem consors factus istius chori Effunde nugas, Naenias: I candidate crucis, ostentans, leve & Febriculo sum ingenium: I literator, longa fias litera Cum fune collum obstrinxeris, Quid variaris crebro clunes verbere Mores tuos nec corrigis; Quid rudis adhuc erudito in pulvere Invisa nobis bellua? Jactasve cum te sanus quisque despicit Maccique soli palpitant. Absisle Momenota ab Academia Solitumque hiatum comprime, Nobis dicaces psittaci bilem movent Et capulares Daemones; Et qui nefando risu subsannant preces Ritusque sacrae ecclesiae; Et inficeti paedagoguli gregis Ore strepentes turgido: Absiste ne si te baubantem audivero In sole Gibbum refricem; Neve ascia illidatur cruribus tuis Quam tute succensam geris. Ferate mur mur ore forsan putrido Tuoque mox exaudiam, Me probri accusans quod famam lacero tibi Cui fama nulla est aut erit: Ast tuas querelas non morabor tetricas Quam nemo sit quin noverit Tuas non posse traloqui impurici● Nec ter trecentis versibus. Durahem Carmina ais, non sat sunt Dura; sed opto Saxa loqui & silices, cum tibi Mome loquor. Bauhus. Epi. Lib. 1. FINIS.