Alazonomastix: OR THE Character of a Cockney: IN A Satirical Poem. Dedicated (as a New-years-gift) to the Apprentices of LONDON.  
By Junius Anonymus, A London Apprentice.  Capiat, qui capere potest. 
The Cockneyes eat their Breakfasts in their beds,  
And spend the day in dressing of their heads:  
Though God in mercy may do much to save them,  
Yet what a case are they in that shall have them?  
LONDON, Printed by R. I. 1652.   

To the Heroical and Magnanimous, the Apprentices of the City of LONDON.  
More especially, to such of them, as are lovers of Learning, Junius Anonymus, their unworthy Brother, dedicateth, and consecrateth the first fruits of his public Labours.  
Gentlemen,  
TO whom may I better presume, to offer this small Pamphlet, then to yourselves? for whose sake it obtained its original being, and if it be any ways serviceable to you, in defending you as a Bulwark against all the enticing allurements of that generation of Vipers (for as the Viper is the death of its parents, so do these Vipers undo more in this City by their exorbitancies, than all other casualties whatsoever) I shall have attained the utmost limits of my ambition; And to those, that by no admonitions, will be premonished, I shall only say, that,  
Qui ante non cavet, post dolebit,  
He that bewareth not in time,  
He shall too late repent his crime.  
For my own part, I have verified this Distich,  
Nescio quid sit amor, nec amo, nec amor, nec amavi,  
Sed scio si quis amat, uritur igne gravi.  
Peradventure it will seem strange, that one of our Profession, should dare to adventure upon the public Stage in this scribbling Age; yet what I have written, I have written; And if any shall expect Apologies, they are like to be frustrate of their expectation: I am confident I shall offend none, but such as are conscious of their own guilt: And it is below my Genius to crave pardon of them. I dare not enlarge, lest I should make the Porch so great, that the House run out at the doors: I shall only add, that if you please to extend the benevolent aspect of your favour, to this poor Pamphlet, it shall engage me to requite you with something that shall be more worthy of your acceptation. In the interim I remain,  
Your most affectionate Servitor, I. A.   

The Character of a Cockney.  

The Prologue.  

THe triple Trine of old Parnassus' Hill,  
Should I invoke to direct my Quill;  
Or if that great Apollo's sacred Choir,  
I should entreat my Muse for to inspire:  
It would transcendently my Theme disgrace,  
For to implore the aid of things so base.   

The liquor of the Heliconian grape,  
Did never yet my Pericranium rape;  
Nor Nectar, or Ambrosia will I quaff,  
Such fictious fancies, I esteem but draff;  
For why? they are no better than a dream,  
Compared to this divine Celestial theme.   

For though the Muses, as the Poets feign,  
Can really intoxicate the brain,  
With Ecstasies and Raptures, yet think I  
None will be so audacious to deny  
Unto our Cockny's, the pre-eminence  
Above them, for unhappy influence.   

Which have produced more dismal effects,  
Then ever the unfortunate Aspects,  
Of the Erratic and Malevolent  
Planets, that wander in the Firmament:  
The mischiefs, which to Mars or Saturn's square  
Are subsequent, thereto may not compare.   

Their power extends, not only to the brain,  
Infusing it with notions, idly vain,  
But wounds the heart with horrid pangs of pain,  
Which never perfectly are cured again,  
Yea by their art, with a dissembling smile,  
They many of their senses do beguile.   

And for the sake of such unhappy men,  
I have adventured to take my pen  
In hand, for to delineate their folly,  
If possible, to cure their melancholy,  
That when their Idols portraiture they see,  
They of their madness may ashamed be.    

The Character.  

THese Cockney's then, of which my Muse doth sing,  
They are the eldest daughters of the King  
Of Pride, old Lucifer, and may compare  
With all his offspring, for their filial care  
To tread his steps: for Pride's Epitome,  
In them comprised exactly, you may see.   

They do conceit, that the whole world, was  
Created for their lust, and will not pass  
For cost, or pains, to satisfy their will,  
And their extravagant desires fulfil;  
Nor East, nor Western-Indies able are  
To suffice their ambitious minds by far.   

They hang at once, more wealth upon their backs,  
Then is contained in forty Pedlar's packs,  
In Silks, and Satins, Pearls, and Diamond rings,  
And many other superfluous things:  
To which the Seller liberally affords,  
Bumbastick names of long six-footed words.   

For if their Names to understand were plain,  
They with the greatest scorn would them disdain:  
Like as the Rustic slights an Almanac,  
If an useless Anatomy it lack:  
For all strange things which are not understood,  
Admired are, and judged very good.   

If they be Snout-fair, than they do despise  
All others, and do seem in their own eyes  
Cóelestiall Angels; and they think that all  
Too little is for such Angelical  
Creatures; who must by any means not be  
Adorned, with things of low, and base degree.   

But if they be as ugly as old Nick,  
They do conceit, they have more need to trick,  
And paint themselves; lest their deformity  
Should be conspicuous to every eye;  
Which to effect, they no small pains do take,  
Thinking fine Feathers gallant Birds do make.   

If that crooked shouldered, hopper-ar-they are,  
Bunch-backed, or any other things that mar  
Their sale; they are obscured from humane sight,  
And they forsooth are made to go upright:  
And this is wrought by virtue of the Art  
Of Monsieur Pricklouse, who doth act his part.   

Yea, they have learned so much Philosophy,  
That contraries each other best descry;  
Therefore about their necks they ever wear  
Black Halters, for to make them white appear:  
Though naturally they're of themselves as dun,  
As if they had been parched with India's Sun.   

Nor are they in the mode, except their Tail  
At least a yard upon the ground doth trail:  
Bare Necks and Breasts, to th' middle of their back,  
Which is in English, Sirs, what do you lack?  
Then to complete this bravery, is put  
In th' midst of all, a simple dirty Slut.   

But Pride in them is not predominant  
Alone, but likewise Idleness doth haunt  
Them so inseparably close, that it  
To them is as a second nature knit:  
For that which once within the bone is bred,  
Will never from the flesh be severed.   

Idleness unto them doth come by kind,  
And thereto they do wholly give their mind;  
They sucked it from their Mothers, and will give  
Themselves to it, as long as they do live:  
And slothfulness, and want of exercise,  
They are the greatest nourishers of vice.   

They never are, neither undressed, nor dressed  
Without the help of one or two, at least;  
And if their Ladyships by ten do rise,  
They think that they have done a mighty prize:  
And then the rest o'th' day, till noon, they pass  
Away, in gazing in a Looking-glass.   

The afternoon most commonly they spend  
In Gossipping, and tattling without end;  
Or else are Coached, to th' Old, or New Exchange,  
To see if there they can spy any strange  
New Fashions, which are daily there invented,  
To please such fools as never are contented.   

There have they Patches, for to represent,  
Their faces like the starry Firmament:  
Of Stars, horned Cynthia, and Pleyades, are  
The most affected; Sextile, Trine, and square  
Of Aspects, perfectly are imitated,  
And all are unto Venus consecrated.   

Or rather for to counterfeit the scars  
Of Soldiers, which are gotten in the Wars;  
And there they have, what ever else beside  
Sub-servient is unto the sin of Pride:  
There may be had more fashions, if you will,  
Then would ten hundred thousand Horses kill.   

And who unto the contrary can tell,  
But that sometimes as well as buy, they sell?  
Or one good turn do for another change,  
(Which thing among them is not very strange)  
For they who do for other things pay dear,  
Had need sell somewhat, part o'th' charge to bear.   

And all the work that e'er they go about,  
Is for to make fine Fool-toyes on a Clout;  
They also for to Sing, and Dance, do learn,  
And when Trades fail, their live for to earn.  
It's work enough, if that they can but tell,  
How to set out an illbred Jade to sell.   

And as they study for to live at ease,  
So they delight their  for to please,  
With dainties and delicious delicates,  
Which must be purchased at any rates,  
For skill in tastes so exquisite they are,  
They do surpass the Art of Galen fare.   

Religion usually they send before,  
And say, they'll overtake it at threescore;  
But yet with it they seldom promise keep,  
For e'er that time they in the dust do sleep,  
Or else through custom are infatuated  
With sin, and unto it habituated.   

But yet the eyes of the world for to blear,  
They most demurely holy will appear;  
And unto Church they will go every day,  
Yet not regarding what the Preachers say:  
To see, and to be seen, is their chief end,  
And not to learn, whereby their lives to mend.   

Likewise sometimes their way they do mistake,  
And for the Church, perhaps a Tavern take;  
Mean time the Boy that doth on them attend,  
Must mark exactly how the time doth spend,  
Lest if they should forget themselves, and stay  
Too long, their Roguery they might betray.   

For cankered malice, they do fare excel  
All creatures, that in th' Universe do dwell;  
For when with envy once they are conceived,  
They are of all their senses quite bereaved:  
And are possessed with such precipitate rage,  
That nothing but revenge can it assuage.   

Did you observe them, after what a fashion,  
And height of pride, they Rant it in their passion;  
You never after would fear any evil,  
No, though that you perchance should meet the Devil;  
For why? there's nothing can more horrid be  
Then them, in their mad fury for to see.   

To see, how here, and there they fling and frisk,  
With eyes more poisonous than a Basilisk;  
And faces, frowns, and gestures, that would fray  
The stoutest Lion; so that one would say  
That sees them, If themselves they did but see  
I'th' Glass, to scold they would ashamed be:   

But yet, to none they greater malice bear,  
Then unto those, that better Gowns do wear,  
Then their ability will well procure,  
Whom they by any means cannot endure:  
For they disdain that they should be out-vy'd,  
By any Lady in the Land for pride.   

Nor is their hatred such a fixed thing,  
But that their friendship is as wavering;  
For by the least displeasure it is lost,  
If of their will by any they are cro'st:  
Then all their former kindness is forgot,  
And in Oblivion's Grave doth lie and rot.   

It may be well compared to the blaze,  
Which from a fire of Straw itself doth raise,  
For furiously it to its height doth rise,  
And suddenly it is extinct and dies;  
For of this thing you may yourself assure,  
That no extremes do ever long endure.   

The fickle, wavering, and unconstant winds  
Are steadfast, if compared to their minds,  
For they are so most vainly variable,  
So foolishly unsteady, and unstable,  
That they cannot attain by all their skill,  
An hour beforehand, for to know their wil   

They now do one thing will, and by and by  
Their minds are changed to the contrary;  
Anon, they will do neither this, nor that,  
But some way else, if they could tell but what:  
What they would have themselves, they cannot tell,  
Nor ever are content when they are well.   

They'll laugh, and cry, and frown, and smile together,  
And make more change of faces, than the weather;  
An hundred times they will their humours change,  
Whilst the Earth once doth round her Axis range:  
Their fury to more Shapes transformed is,  
Then Jove in Ovid's Metamorphosis.   

And if to their own minds they strangers be,  
Then a grand Fool, and Idiot is he,  
That thinks that he can ever please their humour  
So long as they are troubled with the tumour  
Of swelling Pride, and self-conceitedness:  
The Tithe whereof my Muse cannot express.   

They all have a fantastical conceit  
Of their own Beauty, which they think most great,  
Though in their judgements they do go alone,  
For of the same opinion there are none:  
They all do judge themselves exceeding fair,  
To find another of that mind were rare.   

They, for dissimulation, do excel  
All people, that in this vast world do dwell;  
And can so cunnlngly lie, and dissemble,  
That one would think they Angels did resemble,  
At the first view they seem precisely pure,  
Religious, holy, modest, and demure;   

False hearts and tongues in them inherent are,  
In words professing what from th' heart is far;  
For to dissemble, flatter, feign, and lie,  
It is as easy as to drink, when dry:  
But though they have this Art exactly learned,  
But the judicious it is soon discerned.   

They are of all right Reason wholly void,  
And with good manners scorn to be annoyed;  
All that is truly good, as Virtue, Grace,  
They do esteem as things too low, and base  
For their high birth, their breeding, and their blood,  
It would dishonour be for to be good.   

No Mediocrity they know, when they  
Set on a thing it is no saying nay;  
To whatsoever their fancy is inclined,  
It's to no purpose to gainsay their mind;  
Over their passion, will, and fond opinion,  
Nor right, nor reason, e'er shall have dominion.   

These rare creatures, thus richly qualified,  
As unto you, I briefly have descried,  
At fifteen years of age begin to whine  
For husbands, and to wear away, and pine  
With fretting and lamenting, if that they  
Against their wills do any longer stay.   

And by the force of melancholy phlegm,  
They in the night most fearfully do dream,  
As if they troubled with the Nightmare were,  
And hideous sights do unto them appear:  
With great anxiety, the time they pass,  
To think how hard it is to catch an Ass.   

And when unto the age of twenty she  
Hath once attained; they will no elder be,  
Not in a dozen years, or half a score,  
But boldly will affirm, they are no more:  
Though it perspicuous be to every eye  
How that their faces give their mouths the lie.   

Their fathers carefully do cast in mind,  
Where for these Girls, they may good husbands find,  
Because they are a sort of brittle ware,  
And unto ill mischances subject are  
Delays in such like cases danger breeds,  
It's good to stay no longer then must needs.   

Therefore they, this, and that young man espy,  
And on them keep a strict observant eye,  
And if they find that he is in a way  
To thrive, they will strive hard to make a prey  
Of him, and do unto the utmost bend  
Their wits, that so they may attain their end.   

But yet (forsooth) their worships are ashamed,  
That in their own cause, they should once be named,  
And that the matter they may closely carry,  
They do obtain some running Emissary,  
Whom for sinister ends they do procure,  
To turn Fool-catcher, and these Gulls allure.   

Then this Gull-groper doth most craftily  
Intrude himself into the company  
Of this same Woodcock, and he doth pretend  
Himself to be to him a cordial friend;  
But all for gold that glisters do not take,  
Under the greenest grass lies hid the snake.   

And when he hath a fit occasion caught  
As at an Alehouse o'er a morning's draught,  
His mind he breaks, and saith, Sir, I admire  
That you to marry should have no desire;  
Since that the greatest blessing of this life,  
Is to obtain a good, and virtuous wife.   

And if your mind to marry do incline,  
There's such a Gentleman, a friend of mine,  
Who hath a daughter, which in my judgement,  
Would make a wife for you to your content;  
She handsome is, and every way complete,  
Besides she hath a portion very great.   

Then he affirms with great asseverations,  
And many deep and serious protestations,  
That he his welfare merely doth intent,  
And hath not any by-respects, or end;  
And also adds, how that he cannot tell,  
Whether or no, her friends will like it well.   

And saith, in them he hath some interest,  
And for him will not fail to do his best:  
Unto that end he doth him thither take  
to see her once or twice, and then doth make  
The motion to her father, that they may  
Have his consent, to come in such a way.   

And he with much reluctancy doth grant  
Them their desires, but seems most ignorant  
Of this before contrived pernicious plot,  
(Which was a babe that his own brain begot:)  
I on this knavery do insist the more,  
Because it's grown an epidemic sore.   

The hook that's covered with a silver bait,  
Doth all the senses so intoxicate,  
That they all opportunities do watch,  
Whereby they may enabled be to catch  
That, which at length will prove a poisoned Pill,  
Sweet in the mouth, though at the heart it kill.   

The glittering gold doth often blind the eyes  
Of those that are judicious otherwise:  
This is the only thing that all affect,  
Which to attain their courses they direct,  
So that they may their golden god but win  
At any rate they weigh it not a pin.   

Like as the Magnet constantly doth bend  
Unto the Artick-Pole; so all their end  
Is to attain that which by no means can  
Not in this world make happy any man,  
As suddenly they by experience find,  
All cannot purchase sweet content of mind.   

This one word, Money, doth their hearts so varish,  
That to obtain it, they of gifts are lavish;  
Themselves in Paradise they then do think;  
They're so o'erjoyed they scarce can eat or drink;  
And are like Epicures securely sleeping,  
When judgement on them every hour is creeping.   

All things concurring thus to their desire,  
It setteth their affections all on fire  
Until they have the business consummate,  
Which they are like for to repent too late;  
They every day conceit a month, a year,  
But do not think gold may be bought too dear.   

The match is made, all parties are agreed  
The Nuptials to celebrate with speed,  
That so the Creature may be made a Bride,  
And then the Gordyan knot full fast is tied,  
Which for the time that Cynthia runneth round,  
The Zodiac may with all joy abound.   

But by that time be fully overpast,  
Their rashness they do then perceive at last;  
Their folly for to see they do begin,  
And what a labyrinth they're plunged in:  
The vices which before the gold did cover,  
Do now themselves at leisure all discover.   

He now perceives how finely he is matched,  
And that in truth his worship's Cunny-catched;  
But now it is too late for to repent,  
And come what can, he's like to be content;  
The Proverb saith, for what there is no cure,  
The only remedy is to endure.   

Now all the qualities, which I before  
Have briefly here described, and many more  
Do all most perspicuously appear,  
And they begin to rant, and domineer,  
Far more than the Athenian Tyrants, and  
What ere come on't, they'll have the upper hand.   

She doth suppose that he to her is tied  
For nothing but for to support her pride,  
And to maintain her in an idle life;  
Is he not (think you) fitted with a wife?  
If to be such a one, she may be said,  
Seeing a wife was for an helper made.   

Yet they are helpers, but it is to spoil  
That which their husbands got by pains and toil;  
It is their chief, yea only earthly joy  
To help for to consume, waste, and destroy,  
By satisfying of their vanity,  
And in this sense they help abundantly.   

For all for which these Gallants ever care,  
Is to go fine, and daintily to far,  
Unto which end they diligently view  
Abroad, amongst their neighbours, and what new  
Fashions they see, they presently do cry,  
O, such a one hath so, why may not I?   

Litigious, and prone unto contention,  
Loving to make perpetual dissension;  
And they are worse than mad, who will contend  
With them, for why? in vain their breath they spend:  
So rashly they're addicted to their will,  
And will not from it, be it good, or ill.   

With that all-conquering word, Because, they can  
Vanquish the reasons of the wisest man:  
This is the special, only argument,  
Which all the force of Logic cannot rend;  
By it most learnedly they all things prove,  
Yea heaven to be below, and hell above.   

And of all other torments, that there be,  
There's none that half so bad appear to me,  
As unto death, with nonsense to be worded,  
By such, who a good reason ne'er afforded,  
Which he is like to be perpetually,  
That doth himself unto a Cockney tie.   

They are imperious, proud, perverse, and cruel,  
And love unto all mischief to add fuel;  
Their minds are so inconstant, that they mock  
The various turn of the Weathercock,  
And if so be you diligently mind them,  
An hour in one opinion, you'll ne'er find them.   

They use the utmost of their art, and skill,  
To make their children like them in all ill;  
They're so unnatural, they never nurse them,  
And for their breeding, they have cause to curse them;  
They teach them only pride, to sing, and dance,  
And of all good to live in ignorance.   

And that I may my Reader recreate,  
A pleasant story I will here relate,  
Though I thereby myself may much endanger  
For to the truth thereof, I am no stranger:  
I all the parties know exceeding well,  
Stories by hear-say, I love not to tell.   

A creature in this City, of that tribe,  
Which in this Poem, I to you describe,  
Had married been about two years, or more,  
And did not fructify, which vexed her sore,  
She pined and whined, and greatly did lament  
The case wherein she was deficient.   

At length her maid, a bird of the same feather,  
(For like to like do best agree together:)  
Upon a day when she her Mistress laced,  
She said forsooth you're thicker in the waste  
Within this fortnight by at least two inch,  
Your gown and bodies you extremely pinch.   

She at this word (poor soul) was struck amazed,  
But presently her courage up she raised:  
And said, i'●t so? how happy then am I!  
Thus was she neatly gulled with a lie,  
And void of reason, straight she did conceit.  
Herself with child, for to be very great.   

Passion o'er reason did so far prevail,  
That to provide all things they did not fail,  
That necessary were, against that she  
Of this great nothing should delivered be;  
When this supposed time, drew near, it fell  
Most happily out, she was not very well.   

O, what a stir was there, (it was but need)  
The midwife than was sent for with all speed,  
And all the good wives that did live thereby,  
Were called to see this Tragicomedy;  
And all this hurly-burly, and this trouble,  
At length amounted but unto a bubble.   

If that by force he think to be her master,  
she'll scold, and frown, and mischief make the faster,  
And if by lenity he do intent  
To try if she will her conditions mend,  
She for a coward than doth straightway take him,  
And ten to one she doth a Cuckold make him.   

And now he doth by dear experience find,  
Riches compared to a contented mind  
Are nothing; nay his wealth adds to his grief,  
When she her portion casteth in his teeth;  
For though he loved it well, it doth not please  
Him, for to hear on't in such terms as these.   

Why? what? I pray, saith she, did I not bring  
So, and so much, that you at every thing  
Should thus think much, whereto I have a mind,  
That hardly clothes you to my back will find?  
Your betters far, know that I might have had,  
And they thereof would have been very glad.   

If that of me a fool you think to make,  
I tell you that yourself you do mistake.  
Then the poor man doth fret, and chase, and vex  
And various thoughts his mind do sore perplex:  
The day he curseth that he e'er was borne,  
And leads a life most wretched, and forlorn.    

Epilogue.  

ANd you my Brethren, for whose only sake  
The spirit moved me, for to under-take  
This Work, you every one can testify,  
That what I here have written is no lie;  
And if that Zoilus carp, and Momus rage,  
Because I lash the crimes of this our Age;   

I weigh it not a rush, nor do I care,  
Although they do their worst, let them not spare;  
I know that none but the galled Horse will kick,  
If so, i'll deal them such another trick:  
At what here's writ if any be offended,  
It is not like by me to be amended.   

And thou my Muse, who yet was ne'er out-witted  
By them, although too many have been fitted;  
Flourish thou still, and live for to disdain  
The sweet temptations of such bitter gain;  
Those who their minds to it do wholly bend,  
May they of sorrow never know an end.    
FINIS.