AN INGENIOUS POEM, CALLED THE DRUNKARD'S PROSPECTIVE, OR Burning-Glasse.  
Composed by JOSEPH RIGBIE, Gentleman, Clerk of the Peace of the County Palatine of Lancaster.  
Lo●, this prospective to the Drunkard shows  
His odious postures, and his dreadful woes.  
Like as the Elephant, he may here see  
In pure clear waters, his deformity.  
I wish the sight thereof may sore affright him,  
Repentance and amendment much delight him;  
Or else the Burning Glass will surely place  
An everlasting brand upon his face.  
London, Printed for the Author, and are to be sold at the Brazen Serpent in St Paul's Churchyard, 1656.   

To the religious and honourable Lady, Margaret Hoghton, relict of Sir Gilbert Hoghton Knight and Baronet.  
Madam,  
I Have made bold to put your name,  
In front of this small work, to grace the same.  
Your superscription fixed in its bonnet,  
I hope will cause some good men look upon it.  
It's a design in me I must confess,  
To use your name, and make you Patroness:  
That (worthless in itself, yet) it may pass,  
And have the splendour of a burning glass.  
Which from the eye of heaven borrowing flame,  
Shines and burns out by virtue of the same. Madam,  
In this same treatise you shall find  
Description of a Drunkard in his kind.  
Out of his robes you have him here quite stripped,  
And naked laid, for to be lashed and whipped:  
His face is so unvailed with his clothing,  
That possibly the sight may cause a loathing.  
And if it chance one soul but for to gain,  
I shall not count it labour spent in vain.  
Madam, Your Ladyship's most humble Servant, J. R.   

To his truly Virtuous, and right Worthy Mistress, Ann Daughter of Sir Gualt her Blount, Knight and Baronet: Wife of James Anderton of Birchley Esquire.  
Mistress,  
BY your fair hand I have made bold,  
This little scroll of caution out to hold:  
That by the fairness of the frontispiece,  
Many may be induced to cast their eyes,  
And seeing your honoured name, may further look,  
To be informed what's within this book.  
I do expect the brand of a black coal,  
Cavil, will (if it find none) make an hole.  
Me a poor spirited man you might suppose,  
Should I affect the suffrages of those.  
Let it but in esteem with you prevail,  
And in their Temples it will prove a nail.  
They'll blaze but for a while like kitchenstuff,  
And instantly will vanish in a snuff.  
Mistress, Your most humble and faithful SERVANT, I. R.   

To the Right Worshipful, united in Candour and Knowledge, Richard Shutleworth of Gauthrop, and John Starkie of Huntroid, Esquires, Justices assigned to keep the Peace in the County of Lancaster.  
Right Worthy,  

THus have I now in my declining age,  
Adventured myself upon the stage.  
With resolution for to undergo  
The censures of the most detracting foe.  
As Baalam's Ass his mouth was opened wide,  
Even so is mine the drunkard for to chide.  
Lo, here you have him painted, though so ill,  
I wish him painted by some better quill.   

Worthies, For temperance you are of all  
Your Countrymen and Neighbours, principal.  
And neither Rome nor Athens ever hatched  
Two headpieces more sound, more fitly matched.  
Oh, do not blush I pray, that I present  
This work to you, so wise, so abstinent.  
Vouchsafe it but the favour of your sight,  
Assure yourselves it is no Hypocrite.  
And though your knowledge sentence on it give,  
Candour reprieve it, and so let it live.  
Let it be read I pray in your own choir,  
And through the confines of your Blackburnshire.  
And this prodigious sin thus put to show,  
May by God's blessing for aught we do know,  
Both work with our, and after generations,  
For to abhor such base abominations.   
So prayeth your most obedient Servant J. R.   

To the Right Worshipful, truly Noble, and his worthy Honoured Friend and Neighbour, Roger Bradshaigh of Haigh Esquire.  
Noble Sir,  
THen to yourself, that man I do not know,  
To whom more obligation I do owe.  
You're blest with love of Neighbours; and beside,  
Blest with th' enjoiment of a lovely Bride.  
Blessed with a fair estate, and likewise blest  
With hopeful Issue added to the rest.  
Blessed with a disposition for to live  
With decency, on that which God doth give.  
Blessed with the Love of Gentry which resort,  
And want no welcome to your Noble Court.  
None can (our observation notes it well)  
For Hospitality you parallel.  
Wherefore I do this work to you present,  
But not as dead men's Corpse to th' Church are sent  
For to be laid in grave; but to be read  
Amongst your people, when your Table's spread.  
That at your plenteous Table none may feed  
Nor drink, but for refreshment, and for need.  
Nor after Drunkards, or the Gluttons mode,  
Their Stomaches or their Understanding load.  
Then will your Table not become a snare,  
Either to you or them (be't round or square)  
But God that gives you such variety,  
Seeing your temperate use, and great sobriety;  
Doubtless will bless and add unto your store,  
As to your Predecessors heretofore,  
And questionless, in honour and in fame,  
Will still at Haigh preserve the Bradshaighs name.  
Most Honoured Sir, Your most obliged, and most humble Servant, J. R.   

To the Courteous and Judicious Reader.  

EXperience teacheth that there's no one thing  
Can please each one; not Parliament nor King.  
That each one is not pleased with a Protector;  
A wise Ulysses, nor a Valiant Hector.  
That some on virtue set a mighty price;  
And others are as far in love with vice.  
That crossed wickedness will never yield,  
But challenged others uprightness the field.  
To take exceptions is a thing not rare,  
men's censures various, as their palates are.  
Wise Solomon, and Prophet jeremy,  
Tells me before hand what my wage shall be.  
He that a scorner doth reprove or blame,  
Instead of love, t' himself shall purchase shame.  
For they will take it as an open wrong,  
And say, come let us smite him with the tongue.  
Shall I then silent be, and spare to speak,  
Fearing the censures both of wise and weak.  
Nay, I'll all censures set as light as cinder,  
Ere I the good of one poor soul will hinder.  
Admit their swords instead of tongues were moving,  
As to john Baptist, Herod for reproving;  
I'll seek God's glory (as in duty bound)  
Although my corpse be breathless sent to ground)  
If I do ill, no plea can warrant me,  
If well, by none discouraged can I be;  
Yet that myself and Reader both may be,  
From being mistaken and mistaking, free,  
I will remove some rubs, level the way,  
And pave a tract to what I mean to say.  
'Gainst this discourse what will alleged be,  
Myself without a Teacher can foresee.  
I could both raise and answer to their hand,  
All the Objections which they could demand:  
Two for to answer I will do my best,  
I count it labour lost to name the rest.   

First, my comparisons and expressions all,  
Some (without doubt) will into question call,  
And term them light and homely, let such know  
We are agreed, I do confess them so.  
And this I do, presuming that I may,  
With his own sword the great Goliath slay;  
And think it best, that Drunkards should be checked,  
And argued with in their own dialect.  
Moreover to paint out, or to explain  
Their light, lascivions' garb, and language vain.  
It were not possible, or to express,  
In grave or modest words, their filthiness.   

Next; if that any to this vice addicted  
Bee with the harshness of my stile afflicted,  
I wish they would cast their impartial glances,  
Upon these few ensuing circumstances.  
And then this pardon I shall surely win;  
They'll only blame the foulness of their sin.   

First, then with me consider (if they please)  
The medicine is but fit for the disease.  
Necessity requires, and each one knows  
The knottiest hearts must have the strongest blows.   

And secondly, we all may bless those times  
That most discover unto us our crimes.  
For till that we to knowledge do attain,  
Of the disease, we hardly ease the pain.  
Sin to reprove is mercy (this I dare  
Boldly affirm) and cruelty to spare,   

Thirdly, I wish they would (in manner like)  
Think and consider well, that I do strike  
Not at the tree, but at the worm therein,  
Not at themselves, but at their deadly sin:  
Knowing that I a deadly blow must give  
Unto their sins, or else they cannot live.   

Fourthly, that no Physician should be shent,  
But the disease, for pain of Patient.  
Nor the Chirurgeon, but the wound for sure,  
Which he endeavours by all means to cure.   

Fiftly, consider all is done in love,  
And bitter pills do oft most wholesome prove.  
Yea, they will suffer letting out of blood,  
When they do know it tendeth to their good.  
And let them know, these keen invectives are  
Drawn up against them, not as men of war;  
But shot like Jonathan's arrows, to the end,  
Not to destroy but to advise his friend.   

Sixtly, what torment it will be to bear  
Those judgements which so dreadful are to hear.  
And stand in resolution firmly grounded,  
Rather to be converted then confounded.   

Then, this ensuing Treatise I advise  
Them for to read, but without prejudice.  
And though it seem both rigid, tart, and sharp,  
Yet it may prove to them as David's Harp  
Was unto Sau; on which when he did play,  
The evil spirit he frighted quite away.  
Or as those Messengers that came to Lot,  
And him out of that sinful Sodom got:  
Or as the crowing Cock did mind his fall,  
And Peter back unto repentance call.   

These things considered, I most humbly crave  
Him that is known the key of hearts to have,  
T' open th' eyes of each poor soul, that he  
His dangerous condition may see.  
To bless this means prescribed for their good,  
That it may prove to them a lively food.   

So to th' judicious Reader's judgement, I  
Refer myself, and this my industry.  
Not doubting but acceptance it will find,  
With every honest, well disposed mind:  
And as for those of judgement ignorant,  
They cannot love that, therefore let them rant,  
Assault, detract, asperse, revile, I care not,  
String up their bows, & shoot at me and spare not.   
And so farewell. Thy true friend J. R. From my study this last of May, 1655.   

THE DRUNKARDS PROSPECTIVE, OR BURNING-GLASSE.  

A Drunkard; such an one I take to be,  
As not for thirst, but for the company,  
For pride, for lust, or conscience to still,  
Or for to drive the time away, doth swill.  
And he to be a creature may be said,  
That God in the Creation never made.   

Half man, half beast he is, or at the least,  
He's one that's born a man, and lives a beast.  
An humane carcase he may be supposed,  
That hath a bestial heart therein enclosed.  
His heart is changed from man 's, and in its room  
A beast's is placed, Nebuchadnezars doom.   

Where other sins God's Image do deface,  
This leaves him not a man 's, it is so base:  
It takes both speech and reason from the elf,  
And for the present robs him of himself.  
All sins whatsoever in a drunken man  
Do meet like Rivers in the Ocean.  
He's like the Swetian jerffe in quality,  
A beast (as History tells) whose property  
Is, when he hath some carcase found or game.  
Falls a devouring speedily the same;  
And never feeding leaves, until that he,  
Like Bagpipes strouted feels his paunch to be.  
And between two narrow trees he strains  
Out backward, what his strouted paunch contains.  
And so being emptied, with all might and main  
He gallops to the Carcase back again;  
And fills himself until his belly strut;  
And so the second time he strains it out:  
And so he fills, and empties as before,  
Till all's consumed and then he hunts for more.  
With Thuscian Asses you may him install,  
Who fed with hemlocks so asleep do fall;  
That Country men do oft for dead them take,  
Half flea their skins before they will awake.  
Such qualities he hath, no Creature can  
For shame report him for to be a man.  
Like to a Swine he swills, kicks like an Ass,  
Neighs, like a Horse, at women as they pass.  
As Bear, or Wolf, or Tiger fierce, and just  
Like to a Bull he rageth in his lust.  
As subtle as a Fox, can foist, and cog,  
As impudent, and shameless as a Dog.  
Surens for flattery, Asp in tongue; and stings  
Those like a Scorpion that he with him brings.  
In appetite a Leech, gesture an Ape,  
Nothing remains of man save only shape:  
And that affrights the more, when as we see  
A beast in likeness of a man to be.  
Yet his condition he doth like so well,  
He'll not be drawn to Heaven out of Hell.  
Wish that his conversation he would change,  
He'll scorn your counsel, and will think it strange.  
For as all use of reason he hath lost,  
If you speak any, he conceives he's crossed.   

His case is not unlike in his own Region,  
To his that in the Gospell's called Legion.  
Who having been with Devils long possessed,  
At last was very loath to part with's guest.  
Yea thought himself tormented, when to save him  
Christ came to cast them out, he would not have him.   

Drink beastiates the heart, and spoils the brains,  
Exiles all reason, all good grace's stains.  
Infatuates judgement, understanding blinds,  
Perverts the wills, and doth corrupt the minds.  
It doth surprise the thoughts, and it doth all  
The powers and faculties of soul enthrall.  
A man it wholly rendereth unfit for  
A private friend, or public Counsellor.   

Excess of wine away men's hearts so draws,  
Makes them forget both God and all his laws.  
Yea makes men utterly so fall from God,  
They're ne'er recalled by mercy, nor by rod.  
For by this sin the heart it is so stenched,  
All lust so strengthened and the spirit quenched;  
That it repentance Organs overthrows,  
And with impenitence doth fully close.  
Yea Drunkenness itself hath ever been  
In power superlative to every sin.   

For Wine, like stocks and stones doth drunkards make,  
And sense and motion both doth from them take.  
That fitly they to Heathen Idols be  
Compared, which have eyes yet cannot see.  
Have hands, and handle not, tongues do not talk,  
Have feet, and yet like dead men cannot walk.  
Have ears, and hear not; nay, the truth to tell,  
Noses, and (their own vomits) cannot smell.   

And if for men they would reputed be,  
They are but like that man in lunacy;  
Vexed with an evil spirit, wherewithal,  
Oft into fire and water he did fall,  
Whom none could cure until the Master came,  
Though his Disciples did attempt the same.  
So brutish Drunkards, through excess are lost,  
And by that fiend from post to pillar tossed.  
Moses, nor Aaron, they cannot endure,  
Caesar nor Paul can work on them no cure.  
Nor word, nor sword, can make them to decline  
Their wicked ways; such are the fruits of Wine.   

This an hard saying by some may be thought;  
But thus much we from Gods own word are taught.  
And I may speak it as a truth most clear,  
That corporal torments of ill spirits, here  
Are not so rare, as spiritual are rife,  
From which no man is free in this our life.  
One hath the spirit of error, another of fear,  
Departs from faith to truth, dare not appear.  
A third of Fornication; and the next,  
Sore with the spirit of blasphemy is vexed.  
A fifth, with th' spirit of Giddiness is led,  
Not having understanding in his head.  
Some have the spirit of pride, others of slumber,  
Envy and falsehood do possess a number.  
All have a worldly spirit: but Drunkards have  
Legions of spirits leading to their grave.  
For every reigning sin a Devil is,  
And quite deprives them of eternal bliss.  
Drunkards are Captives to the Devil, still  
At his command, ready to do his will;  
He is their Father, King, their God, their treasure,  
Ruling and in them working his own pleasure.  
He makes them Traitors, as he judas did,  
Puts in their hearts to do what he shall bid.  
Like Ananias and Sapphira both,  
Makes them to lie (nay bind it with an oath)  
He enters Drunkards, and with one accord,  
Makes them to tempt the spirit of the Lord.  
As by the Serpent he speaks in them, by them;  
Or Ahab's Prophets if you do but try them.  
He acts by them, and stretcheth forth their hand,  
As by King Herod over all the Land.   

So that as Paul, guided by God you see,  
Can say I live not, but God lives in me.  
So Drunkards they may say, and fitly thus;  
We live not, but the Devil lives in us.  
For they so curse so swear, so skip, so hop.  
That questionless they have received the sop.  
Drunkards with their own conscience do not agree,  
But with remembrance of their vices be  
Disquieted: And still their thoughts torment,  
With fear of some ensuing punishment;  
And with the gripes of conscience pinched thus,  
Seek out companions boon, voluptuous.  
So that to Stews and Taverns they are given,  
And thither as free horses they are driven,  
That trot away, need neither spur nor wand,  
Let them but see the shaking of a hand.  
Nay they are such sworn friends unto the cup,  
They'll need no more, hold but a finger up;  
They are so ready at the Devil's becks,  
They'll post as if they meant to break their necks.  
If he suggest the thought, or speak the word,  
They'll any mischief act by tongue or sword.  
If he say slander, lie, they'll do you'll see,  
As fully falsely, spirefully as he.  
If he bid quarrel, fight, revenge; nay worse,  
Murder, destroy, blaspheme, forswear, and curse.  
They instantly obey; and do begin  
To act, as soon as he commands the sin.   

Thus fare I have Drunkards set forth entire,  
And think that none can tax me for a liar.  
Now whilst they sit and take the other cup,  
I will anatomize and cut them up;  
And I will sparingly in this my verse,  
But few of their ill qualities rehearse,  
Instead of a great number, so that you  
May well by them guess at the residue▪  
The first ill quality I do present,  
Is, that they think each hour a day that's spent;  
Each day a month, that they're not at the tap;  
Or tumbled down to take a gentle nap;  
Or that their money be all spent and gone,  
And credit with the tapster they have none:  
And when they have thus lavished out their store,  
They plot and practice how they should get more;  
And so they fall to secret mischief hence,  
Or to an open course of violence.  
So that the taphouse fits them for the Jail,  
The Jail to th' gibbet sends them without fail:  
For those that through a Lattice sang of late,  
You oft find crying through an iron grate.  
Yet this the work of many months may be;  
But trace them step by step and you shall see,  
So soon as to the Alebench they are got,  
Up comes uncalled for, every man his pot.  
(Of losing of their custom upon pain)  
Which being doffed, are quickly filled again:  
For their attendant hath a strict command,  
That the pots neither full nor empty stand.  
Thus they each day as soon as they do rise,  
Offer to Bacchus their first sacrifice.  
If you the reason do desire to know,  
I will it in a word most plainly show.  
In morning's being sick, to th' jugg they jog,  
Each one to take a hair of the same dog  
That bitten them overnight; And so they first,  
Do drunkenness prepare, to add to thirst.  
To qualify the old heat with a new,  
By drinking Savin, to wash down the Rue:  
Which is not sin to cure, but sin to smother,  
Heaping up vengeance one upon another.  
Or as some Surgeons use to deal,  
By deading flesh an ulcer for to heal;  
Which to the sore doth give but small relief,  
But renders them insensible of grief.   

Through desperate custom hath this viperous brood,  
Made others physic their own natural food.  
For they themselves to tippling so do give,  
Without excess of Wine they cannot live.  
They drink, and vent, and vent, and drink amain,  
Sell●ngers round, and then the same again.   

Yea every cup is fast to others wedged,  
They always double drink, they must be pledged.  
He that gins, how many soe'er they be,  
Looks that each one do drink as much as he;  
And he will drink although his face he mars,  
Until his eyes do stare like blazing stars.   

And now by that, that these gutmongers brave,  
Doubled their morning's draught most finely have,  
And gulped down each one a many quarts,  
As easy as their drink, up comes their hearts:  
Yea let them get a pot more in their pate,  
You'd wonder how confusedly they'll prate.  
Their restless tongues do to small purpose chatter,  
And, like lose windows in the wind, do clatter.  
As sick men's pulses in distemper great  
Always (but ever out of order) beat.   

And in the lose discourse, which from them flows,  
All secrets whatsoever they disclose.  
As when Wine purgeth that comes to the brim,  
Which is i'th' bottom, and a loft doth swim,  
Or else the vessel bursteth: Even so  
Doth Drunkenness vent what the heart doth know.   

For if that wisdom and discretion be  
Hoops to a vessel; pray you then tell me,  
How should the liquor in these hogsheads stay,  
When that the hoops are taken quite away.  
And amongst Drunkards it's an ancient Law,  
For to disgorge the bosom with the Maw.   

When Malt's above the wheat, they are so strong,  
They il can rule their hands, but worse their tongue.  
For that's so oiled with cups, and made so bold,  
So glib, so laxative, it cannot hold.  
Drink turns the key o'th' tongue, and doth unlock  
Those counsels all, which wisdom hath in stock.   

And drunkards seem to be no little proud,  
That their discourse is full as lewd as loud.  
For as in anger, spitefully they rave,  
So in their mirth, beastly discourse they h●ve.  
Their bawdy, shameless language in their drink,  
Like gaping Oysters makes their mouths to stink.   

They have more rage than reason, if you mark,  
Backbite the absent, at the present bark,  
Their prayers are curses, their relations lies,  
Two birds that always out of one nest flies.  
Yea Drunkards are so barbarous, and so fell,  
With them no word that's civil, savours well.  
They belch forth nothing but what beastly is,  
No rotten speech to Drunkards comes amiss.  
They speak no less than murders, blasphemies,  
Rapes, whoredoms, incests, and adulteries.  
That which from their polluted mouths doth gush,  
A man would think should make the Devil blush.   

And thus from wicked talking they're agreed,  
To cursed impious swearing to proceed.  
As you shall rarely any drunkard see,  
But a great swearer he is known to be.  
Oh, the prodigious fearful oaths they swear,  
As if that God were deaf, and could not hear.  
The damned language which in drunken fit,  
These Ruffians, monsters of the earth do spit  
Out in defiance of his Majesty,  
And all subordinate authority;  
Would pierce and wound a heart of brass, nay make  
A dumb man speak, a dead man almost quake.  
Now when their mouths are somewhat stopped with pot,  
And all that's said or sworn is quite forgot;  
You shall have one for very pure love creep,  
And wanting speech, in's fellow's bosom weep.  
Another takes a chamber pot, and pissing,  
Turns to's companions, and him falls a kissing.  
A third, like one that half his wits doth lack,  
With laughter sets his mouth upon the rack:  
A fourth, he ramps and stamps, whisks down the cup,  
Because the wine's no sooner brought him up.  
A fifth sits in a corner (him I pass)  
Nodding and slavering like a drunken Ass.  
A sixth he knelt scarce able for to stand,  
Yet makes a shift to hold the cup in's hand:  
After that, every one that is awake  
Must sing his song, his instrument must take.   

Instead of Harp, than one a knife up takes,  
And a quart pot, wherewith he Music makes.  
Next, in a song extols his mistress fine;  
Another sings the goodness of the Wine;  
Another less in meeter skilled than prose,  
'Twixt wife and him, relates how all things goes;  
Where for to hear how they do pawn their lives,  
Plot and contrive to charm and tame their wives,  
Would make an honest modest maid to tarry,  
And take a resolution not to marry.  
Another he relates how many quarts  
His friend and he drank lately next their hearts;  
Another of Religion he doth prate,  
(To little purpose) and affairs of state;  
Another claps his fellow on the back,  
And swears that he's a dunce that drinks not sack;  
Another gets a candle, where with all,  
He strives to set his name upon the wall;  
Another takes a coal, and speechless reeling,  
Would gladly write his mind upon the seiling;   

Next brags with such a woman he hath been,  
Whom in his life he yet had never seen;  
Another, how demurely he did jet  
By such a round head which by chance he met;   

Another swaps his cap upon the floor,  
Quarrels with's friend, because he'll drink no more;  
Another swears, each one ere they do part,  
Shall drink his pot, tell's tale, or let a fart;  
Not to drink share, or part before their time,  
Is an unpardonable, and most heinous crime.   

Their Lybrary's a large room, so full as passes,  
Of Pots, Canns, Jugs, Tobacco pipes and glasses.  
Rashers o'th' coals, Red Herrings, Caviar,  
Gammons of Bacon, and the like good cheer,  
To whet their appetites the better up,  
And give a relish to another cup:  
Together with a Basin and a Jurdane,  
To vomit in, and piss for every Lurdane,   

Unto their knowledge now I might proceed,  
Whereof to speak I think I shall not need.  
For though they think themselves giants for wit,  
The Scripture tells us they are void of it.  
And though they brag of judgement, you shall find  
Them naught but leather cases stuffed with wind:  
Alas if any can but break a jest,  
He thinks himself much wiser than the rest.  
Bribed with a self conceit, themselves they flatter,  
When all's more sound, than substance, wind then matter.  
And were they not both void of wit & grace,  
They would be much ashamed to show their face.  
They sit to eat and drink, lie down to sleep,  
Rise up to play; this exercise they keep.  
In the warm Sun like gnats they play and sing,  
And when 've done, they sit them down & sting.   

Drunkards for nothing that is good are fit,  
In all the world of earth, the barrenest bit.  
Like to a dumb Jack in a Virginal,  
They have no voice in Commonwealth at all.  
've no more use of them throughout the land,  
Then jeroboam had of his withered hand.  
The Serpent's special venom, makes these elves  
Not only work confusion to themselves;  
But makes them wit and grace for to reject,  
And take delight others for to infect.  
Which for to compass they great toil will take,  
Alehouse and Tavern they their study make.  
Where all their practice is before they part,  
To drink the fear of God out of their heart;  
Health out o'th' body, wit out of the head,  
Strength out o'th' joints, and every one to bed.  
All moneys out a purse; drink out o'th' barrels,  
Wife, children, out of doors, all into quarrels.  
The Devil out on's den, land out of quiet,  
Store out o'th' Kingdom, and this is their diet.  
Let but an honest, civil, sober man  
Fall once amongst them, it's their glory than  
To make him drunk: You could not but admire,  
How these infernal swilbowles will conspire:  
Like Babylonish Harlot smooth him up,  
Make him taste poison in a golden cup:  
And as at the division of a spoil,  
They'll sing when they have put him to the foil.  
Oh, how they will both glory brag and vapour,  
That they have had the snuffing of that tapor.   

Oh, how they'll wind men in, do what they can,  
By drinking healths, first unto such a man,  
Then unto such a woman. Then they'll send  
An health to each man's Mistress or his friend;  
Then to their kindreds or their parents dear,  
They needs must have the other jug of beer.  
Then to their Captains and Commanders stout,  
Who for to pledge they think none should stand out.   

Last to the King and Queen they'll have a cruse,  
Whom for to pledge they think none dare refuse;  
Though he be both unwilling and unable,  
And be therewith made drunk, cast under th' table.  
And thus these tempters wind and draw men in,  
To be partakers of their deadly sin.  
Whom they arrest they suffer none to bail,  
Till all their senses, all their members fail;  
The most corrupted heart can hardly think,  
How they'll triumph o'er others in their drink.   

So fast as in a chain the Devil binds them,  
Inthrals, besots, bewitches, and so blinds them;  
That they to make each other drunk do strive,  
And think themselves the bravest men alive:  
It they can prove but Masters of their trades,  
And be but called and counted gallant blades:  
For popular applause in this their strife,  
And reputation, is more sweet than life;  
Nay, than salvation too: for they had rather  
Ride post to hell unto their lully father;  
Then of a Puritan to have the name,  
So proud they are of baseness and of shame.  
Little regarding, whilst thus o'er their friends  
They do triumph, Satan obtains his ends;  
Nor minding how they're overthrown at last,  
Brought under's lash, and into darkness cast.   

And thus they strive in sin for to excel,  
Not having love of heaven, dread of hell:  
Spending their time in jollity and laughter,  
Not caring what falls here, nor comes hereafter;  
Making a trade of sin, without regard  
Of hell to punish, heaven to reward.  
They're never known God's mercy for to crave,  
But live as if they had no souls to save.   

And thus I have made out, as I do think,  
That drunkards not for strength, but lust, do drink.  
And that their chief delight is to entice  
Others to be copartners in their vice.  
Making them drink these healths, till like a dog  
They vomit up their shame, or like a hog  
Tumble i'th' dirt, a spectacle most sad  
And woeful to all men that are not mad.  
For, what more barbarous practice can there be,  
Then for to take a pleasure for to see  
Others made drunk? as if it were their pride,  
The high and mighty God for to deride.  
In tempting unto sin they are so bold,  
Can fit and temper so unto their mould:  
Such stratagems they have to win the field,  
Plots, projects such, as hell can scarcely yield.  
Their proffers are like to a fowler's scrap,  
Cast out not for to feed, but to entrap.  
So that if Satan would resign his place,  
IT should be to some of this same cursed race.  
Now if by fair means they cannot allure  
Men to their wicked customs; then be sure  
To give weak brains a drench, themselves they'll band,  
And strive for to compel by strength of hand.  
At least if in their practice they do fail,  
They'll censure, scoff, revile, and at them rail.  
Curse, envy, nickname, flander, undermine,  
And falsely to accuse they will combine:  
Nay if that overruling providence  
And Justice, were not a strong tower of fence,  
If not their souls, their bodies they would kill,  
In case they would not work them to their will.  
But now I'll pass, and briefly let you see  
Their outward bodily deformity.  
Swollen and inflamed faces drunkards have,  
Beset with goodly chowles, and rubies brave;  
Red bleared goggle eyes, running with rheums,  
Mouths nasty, foaming with offensive fumes.  
Rich Roman bottle noses, palsied hand,  
Great gouty legs, whereon they scarce can stand.  
Fowl stinking rotten teeth, and beside these,  
All cheeks to th' belly, belly to the knees.   

Nay questionless if any drunken ass  
Would but behold his feature in this glass,  
A man would think his face he should disdain,  
And ne'er be brought to love himself again.   

And they're no more deformed then diseased,  
If to believe an Artist you'll be pleased.  
For saith Hypocrates, the more they are filled,  
Distempered bodies, the more they are spilled.   

And if from him you further do appeal,  
The Prophet Hosea sets to it his seal.  
Wine and strong drink drown many: In a word,  
More die by surfeits, then die by the sword.  
So that the Drunkard out of that draws death,  
Which doth preserve to other men their breath.  
He a Cow's belly hath; head of an ass,  
Diseases of a horse: So let him pass.   

But stay awhile, you have not yet heard all;  
To drunkards many fearful chances fall.  
Anacreon, in drinking that surpassed,  
With the husk of a grape was choked at last.  
Ammon was warm with Wine, and highly filled,  
When he by's brother Absalon was killed.  
Simon th' High Priest, and his two sons, were slain  
By their own brother in a drunken vein.  
Great Olofernes when he lost his head  
By Iudeth's hand, lay drunk upon his bed.  
The drunkenness of Noah, and of Lot,  
Those righteous persons, must not be forgot:  
That by those instances of former time,  
We may observe how God abhors the crime.  
All ages have recorded stories sad,  
I need no more examples for to add.  
Moreover, in the nights missing their ground,  
In pits & ditches many have been drowned.  
Snakes have been known down drunkards throats to creep,  
When in the fields they have been laid asleep.  
In their cups many of these drunken elves,  
Either stab others, or are stabbed themselves.   

For who will sooner either kill or slay,  
Then Cowards when th' have drunk their wits away.  
The Devil puts it into Drunkard's heart,  
To kiss at meeting, quarrel ere they part.  
Their malice so in Taverns oft they vent,  
They are constrained at Tyburn to repent.   

A Drunkard will with his own shadow play,  
And afterward with it will make a fray.  
Yea as he fits and nods, do but suppose  
He should against some post but hit his nose,  
He is in his stupidity so strong,  
He'll strike his opposite for that same wrong.  
Then for to make them friends, for drink he'll call,  
Which friendly cup begets another brawl.  
For whilst the hogshead tampers with the barrel,  
Whether he chases or laughs he's apt to quarrel.  
And let a man admonish him, insooth  
He had as good take a wild bear by th' tooth.  
This sin scorns all reproof; all counsel's bad,  
As goads to them that are already mad:  
It may them move to choler and to strife,  
But never to amendment of their life.  
Now as the Drunkard through excess and strife  
Impairs his health, and shorteneth his life;  
Deforms his body; so it is his fate,  
At last for to consume his whole estate.  
I might here show how wine it doth deface,  
Darken the light of nature, and of grace;  
But that I think it labour were in vain,  
And to repeat the same things o'er again.  
It is the funeral (as I said before)  
Of all good parts; I need to say no more.  
Now you may marvel much thus for to hear  
The Drunkards odious postures made appear.  
But you might wonder more, in case I should  
Prolixly here relate, what might be told.  
For seriously he's like a putrid grave,  
The deeper that you dig, more stench you have:  
I could you further carry, and still find  
More left of him before, then's left behind.  
This shall suffice, lest that the more that's said,  
Do cause a great deal less for to be read.   

And now that Drunkards thus have seen their sin  
Laid open to their view, let them begin  
Their lives for to amend, and to repent,  
Or hearken to their grievous punishment.  
For by the Laws of God, and eke of man,  
After conviction, there is none that can  
Avoid the sentence: After sentence past,  
Then execution comes; for sure at last,  
If a reprieve, or pardon be not got,  
Damning or hanging, is drinks after-shot.   

If therefore there be any unto God  
Of those Antipodes, that scorn his rod;  
That in these lines, as through prospective true,  
Of his condition taken hath a view;  
Yet neither sting nor prick of conscience feels,  
But fixed on earth, casts heaven at his heels.  
Or that hath seen in this same glass most clear,  
The ugly face of his foul heart appear:  
And likewise read, how Satan doth delude him,  
And from God's presence seeks for to exclude him.  
Yet notwithstanding, still himself doth give,  
In brutish sensuality to live;  
And sets at light all counsels, threats and terrors,  
And doth resolve not to repent his errors.  
But stubbornly himself therein to cherish;  
Let him know this that he shall surely perish.   

Thus saith the Lord, yourselves you have abused,  
For I have called, and you have refused;  
You simple things have in your hearts devised,  
All my counsels, all my threats despised.  
I stretched my hand, and you would not regard,  
Therefore destruction shall be your reward.  
And let them know how many several woes  
The word of God pronounceth against those,  
That at the wine themselves together link,  
And mighty are to pour down strong drink.   

And let them know, the time will surely come,  
Christ shall pronounce this fearful dreadful doom;  
Int' everlasting fire departed from me,  
Ye cursed workers of iniquity.  
Here without thirst they drink; there let them think,  
How they shall thirst, and never have no drink:  
Yea though the fire be hot, the thirst be great,  
A drop of water, little to the heat.  
Know that the fire and thirst they shall abide,  
And the least drop of water be denied.  
L●t drunkards know, and knowing eke confess,  
Paul's a true Prophet, Esay is no less.  
Yea it's an odds, that they can never part,  
But entertain uncleanness in the heart.  
No man can sort with Heathens, Pagans, Turks,  
But he shall frame and learn to do their works.  
Consider well Peter his change and fall,  
After he came into the high Priest's hall.  
Nay, you shall seldom see a felon die,  
Or an offender, but this is his cry:  
If I had chanced ill company to miss,  
(Ah) I am sure, I'd never come to this.   

Wherefore as joseph hearing's mistress say,  
Come let us lie together, fled away:  
Even so take care, that thou away do shrink,  
When Drunkards cry, come let us go and drink.  
Beware lest they betray thee with their kisses;  
When they speak fair, believe the serpent hisses.   

Likewise be careful not for to resort,  
To drinking places, for to play or sport.  
My tongue would blister, if I should say less,  
They're nurseries of riot, and excess.   

I wish I might not say, that many are  
The Devil's shops for venting of his ware;  
The very sinks of sin, and common shores  
For drunkards, swearers, murderers and whores;  
Yea Satan's Throne, where he doth Chaire-man sit,  
Sequestering each man both from grace and wit.  
Their lands, their goods, their cattle and their stocks,  
And for their fifts, doth order them the pox.   

But what of these, I say I must take heed,  
Lest I as Paul at Ephesus do speed;  
And by some one Demetrius, be cried down  
With greats Diana, throughout all the Town.  
Sirs, by this craft you know we get our wealth;  
Though others (as Delinquents) lose their health.   

But thus much I conceive here by the way,  
As not incongruous, observe we may:  
That in regard th' excess o'th' trencher's not  
So soon perceived as is th' excess o'th' pot.  
And th' outward visible effects with us,  
Are not so stupid, or notorious:  
Drunk'nesse is more ridiculous than it,  
And more declaimed against in holy Writ:  
So that (by use) the word Sobriety,  
Doth temperance now in drinking signify.  
Therefore the Glutton's sin is now in less  
Disreputation, then is Drunkenness;  
Yet as to each th' affection stands; in all  
Th' intemperance alike is criminal.   

Yet one word more I will presume to add,  
Which (if it take effect) my heart will glad.   

To you Churchwardens, Constables and others,  
That love the Lord, the Church, the State, your brothers,  
Yourselves, your sons, the people of the land,  
Put forth against this sin your helping hand.  
Help, help the Lord, the laws, some ground to win,  
Against I say, against this mighty sin.   

Use all means possible for to prevent it,  
And if you cannot, fail not to present it.  
Say not that he which herein doth offend,  
Is such a Gentleman, or such a friend:  
But know that he who is offended's dearer,  
Greater and better, and unto you nearer.  
Or if you needs the Gentleman will free,  
Take care, the Drunkard (He) presented be.  
Or if you please for to let slip your friend,  
Be sure the Drunkard to the stocks you send.   

But most of all they are to be desired,  
And in the name of God strictly required;  
Within Commission of the Peace that be,  
That they their Country's peace preserved see;  
And all their will, skill, strength and power bend,  
This many headed monster for to rend.  
Draw these lose teeth (that it may gather health)  
Out of the mandable of the Commonwealth.  
You may, if you these To res but disband,  
Of infinite distempers cure the land.   

Make known your love to God, hatred to sin,  
The zeal and courage that you have within.  
Balk none, forbear with none that do offend,  
Until their sinful lives they do amend.   

Now you have heard the thing that I do ask,  
Arise up then, be doing of your task;  
Which if you do, to pray I will not cease,  
That you in grace and wisdom may increase:  
And know that this to do, if you neglect,  
Even he that hath of persons no respect,  
Will surely in his fury and his rage  
Your negligence reward with Ahab's wage.   

I wish that all men would beware in time,  
Of this so odious detestable crime;  
Or it will prove at length, they may be sure,  
Like to a desperate plague that knows no cure.  
And yet let Drunkards know sins are remitted  
Upon repentance, as if not committed.  
Peter, his Master Christ did thrice deny;  
Paul persecuted him exceedingly  
(As thou dost in his members) yet they twain  
Upon repentance mercy did obtain.  
Manasses, Mary Magdalen, the thief  
Witness, true sorrow never wants relief.  
Repent, and do not from his precepts range,  
And God he will his dreadful sentence change.  
It is a truth to be believed and read,  
The woman's seed shall bruise the serpent's head.   

And thou O Father, that alone canst give  
Life to the dead, unto their souls say, Live.  
To thee nothing is hard; thou canst of stones  
Make, and raise children to thy holy ones.  
Send down thy heavenly spirit, and thereby  
Those dead and stony hearts so mollify,  
That they henceforth all deadly sin may shun,  
And be made members of thine only Son.   

And now who e'er thou art; this book is thine,  
If use it, if abuse it, it is mine.  
Do not thou with the name a quarrel pick,  
If that the nature thou do not dislike.  
Books are (as children) oft not fitly named,  
For which their God fathers are to be blamed.  
And though the mould it's cast in may be new,  
It brings thee nothing but what's old and true.   

I am not mad, to think this book should pass  
Without aspersion from some drunken ass:  
Some will (no doubt) as Lion's hunger-bit,  
Open their mouths against both me and it.  
But read, consider well, and thou shalt find  
An Antidote for body and for mind:   

And if thy shared soul do chance  
To be invited unto temperance;  
Let not the jeers or taunts, or scoffs of men,  
Cause thee return to thy ill course again:  
Know that the Devil's Mastiffs, they will fawn  
No longer than they have thy soul at pawn:  
But if thou chance out of their fold to scape,  
Then they'll begin to by't, to bark and gape.   

The poor diseased cripple, it appears,  
Lay at the pool full eight and thirty years;  
And not a man that past in all that time,  
Checked or rebuked him for the smallest crime.  
But when he was in body and in soul,  
By Christ our Saviour cleansed and made whole;  
And went resolved for to sin no more,  
Lest worse befell him, than had done before;  
It is not lawful, than the Jews could say,  
Thy bed to carry on the sabbath day.   

Likewise we read the Pharisees did scorn  
The poor distressed man that blind was borne:  
No sooner was he cured, but out they sent,  
And him and's parents both they did convent.   

Whilst Magdalen did in her lewdness live,  
Word of reproof none unto her did give:  
But when with tears Christ's feet she washed, & came  
With precious ointment to anoint the same;  
Then for to murmur she a Simon kenned,  
And eke a judas, her to reprehend:  
Yea, it's the Devil's drift, and of his flock,  
To dash our little ones against a rock:  
Virtue to blast i'th' bud, and to devour  
Before it grow either to fruit or flower.   

Thus Pharaoh plotted th' Hebrews for to spill,  
When he gave order all their babes to kill.   

Thus Herod (when themselves he mocked knew)  
Sent forth to Bethlehem, all their children slew.   

Children of men, their tongues like arrows are,  
And with sharp blades their teeth you may compare,  
The Devils murdering pieces for to spoil,  
And persecute those that from him recoil.   

But they that do their journey leave for such,  
Affrighted horses do resemble much;  
Which start at shadows, trembling for fear,  
When that there is no just occasion near.   

It's not for us, for to regard detractions,  
Malice of men, against ourselves or actions;  
And so like Moon calves at a shadow start,  
Setting the service of our God apart.  
When as we do into God's service enter,  
Upon a rough profession we adventure:  
We are engaged the world to set at light,  
And all its pleasures to abandon quite.  
The friendship of this world is merely gall,  
And enmity with God, so saith Saint Paul.  
Therefore we nothing can expect but blame,  
At those men's hands, that friends are to the same.  
It is observed that when a thief intends  
To rob an house; to bring about his ends,  
He first putteth out the lights, that so he may  
The more securely seize upon the prey:  
Even so the Devil's imps with one accord,  
When as they see the spirit of the Lord,  
In those that once were darkness, do begin  
To rouse themselves, and to advance for sin;  
Seeking all good men's virtues to disgrace,  
By throwing mire and dirt into their face.   

What can be looked for? or what can we find,  
But cankered hatred, and depraved mind  
In impious lapsed persons, that do turn  
Their spite against almighty God, and spurn  
Against his image? For it is most sure,  
Those that do turn to God, they must endure,  
To come much like a grape into the press,  
Be squeezed, and crushed, they can expect no less.  
They must not think to come out of the Whale,  
And sit with jonah in the shade; but shall  
Have some foul worm to gnaw the gourd asunder,  
It is a truth, needs not beget a wonder.   

Wherefore, who ever entered have a course  
Of virtuous life; let them resist the force  
Of all temptations; knowing certainly,  
The Devil never can with such agree,  
But still will plot and seek them to devour,  
Although he smiled, whilst they were in his power.   

Whilst in his paws the Lion hath his prey,  
With it he will both dally, sport and play;  
But if it offer to escape his paws,  
Then in the flesh forthwith he'll fix his claws.   

Laban began to be most cruel-hearted  
'Gainst jacob, when from him he was departed▪   

Pharaoh did fiercely th' Israelites pursue,  
When they to Egypt were to bid adieu;  
Our enemy with malice most doth swell,  
When us he seethe against him to rebel.  
He cares but little those for to molest,  
Of whom he finds himself fully poffest.  
Great Olofernes. ne'er did evil thing  
To them that willing were to serve his King:  
Such as are void of virtue, are not barred  
From egress regress through the Devil's guard.   

But such as treasure grace, and do begin  
For to decline the waits of death and sin;  
Such as against his fierce encounters sense,  
He doth assault with all his violence;  
His battery he plants against that foe,  
And all his engines him to overthrow.  
Courage yourselves, his bullets they may clatter;  
But all his engines are too weak to batter.  
The Lord he will a Moses still befriend,  
And against Aaron, Miriam him defend.  
Against a judas Christ he will engage,  
And on him take Magdalen's patronage.  
If men oppress them, creatures without sense,  
Will witness truth, and fight in their defence.  
If the Israelites before a Pharaoh fly,  
The sea'le divide, and make a passage dry:  
The Lion's hunger-bit, cruel and fell,  
Meek lambs will prove unto a Daniel;  
And God will send an Angel for to shut  
Their mouths, when he into their den is put.  
Raven's will feed Elijah: God will bless  
The widow's meal and oil from being less;  
Him and herself, and son for to maintain,  
Until the Lord be pleased to send down rain.   

Although the King command to bind and throw  
A Shadrach, Meshech and Abednego  
Into the fiery furnace, yet they shall  
In presence of the King and Nobles all,  
Walk in the flame, and them it shall not touch,  
The Angel of the Lord preserveth such.   

Be valiant then, in righteousness begun,  
And thou shalt shine in brightness like the Sun.  
So unto thee this book thus rudely penned,  
And it and thee to God I do commend.   
Deus tibi se: Tu te Deo. J. Rigbye.   

To my much esteemed Friend and Parishioner, Major joseph Rigbye, upon his sober Satire against the Epidemical vice of Drunkenness.  

SOme old Philosophers did say  
One Soul inspires each lump of Clay;  
Yours and grave Withers's parallel vein,  
Their dead conceit revives again.  
Great Brittain's lost remembrancer  
May find his voice new echoing here?  
His verse the plague's pale visage draws,  
And yours soul drunkenness the cause:  
And truth to say, 'tis hard to guess  
Which plague's the greater, which the less;  
Which of the two's contagious breath,  
Has more betrayed to grisly death.  
Then seeing two Christian sons of war,  
Are met in one from distance fare;  
Cashiered the sword, embraced the pen,  
In pity to the souls of men;  
To free by pious exhortation,  
The sinsick Captives of this Nation  
From Hell's devouring jaws, or make  
Pure souls their company forsake.   

Let but our vice-Antagonist,  
Enter with fortunate arms the list  
'Gainst this foul monster's first born son,  
Mad swearing: (Who it first begun)  
Was Tavern-Bedlam, Lord or Knight,  
In drunken mood and beastly plight;  
And his vile flatterer man or swain,  
To please him swore and cursed amain:  
Thus worshipping the calf of gold,  
T' affront th' highest rude men are bold.  
Let but our Christian Champion slay  
This proud Orgoglio; then we'll say,  
Let the great Alexander cease  
T' extol his conquests, less than these:  
Let Caesar's proud triumphant Bays  
Bow down, while we your trophies raise:  
Let Hercules labours silent be,  
Yours live to immortality.   
Ch. Hotham.   

To my much Honoured Friend Major joseph Rigbye, Upon his Drunkard's Prospective or Burning-Glasse.  

MEthinks in this prospective I doken  
A troop of Monsters, not of Christian men.  
Monsters, such as all Africa never bred,  
Men and yet beasts, living and yet stark dead.  
Wast thou Apelles scholar, or e'er saw  
The Prince of Painters his acquaint pieces draw;  
That thus the Drunkard's shape unto our eye,  
In lively pourtraicture thou dost descry?   

Was thou e'er at Lacedaemonian Feasts,  
Where slaves used to be made as drunk as beasts,  
On purpose that their children they might fright  
With th' odious view of such an ugly sight?  
Or didst thou live when as the Roman State,  
Their Bacchanalia used to celebrate?  
Or where e'er sawst thou drunkards feature, that  
Thine active pencil it should hit so pat?   

It is a paradox that dead men, Thou  
Shouldst set out to the life thus; I avow:  
And it is rare how the same draught should be  
A night and day-piece both, as this we see.   

Did old Rome flourish, or the Spartan glory,  
Thy name should be eternised in their story,  
For thus chastifing with thy nipping pen,  
The shame of Nations, bane of mortal men?   

Is't not most shameful Christians should strive,  
Painim and Pagan Gods for to revive?  
Bacchus' an Idol old and exolete,  
Is now become a Deity complete.   

See how he's worshipped, see how his throng train,  
Each where do cry him up, their God amain.  
Taverns his Temples, daily multiplied,  
While great Iehovah's would be set aside.   

Tables, his Altars, Indian thus perfumes,  
I mean Tobacco: While each one presumes,  
God's sacred Incense to extinguish quite,  
And make it yield to their idolothite.  
And his Church-music, filthy blattering songs,  
Still canted out by the unhallowed tongues  
Of drunken rhymers; men profane forlorn,  
God's sacred praise in Psalms must be forborn.   

His tallow tapers burn both night and day,  
Gods must go out: And most men dare to say,  
They are but dead and useless stinking snuff,  
Preachers I mean: Is not here goodly stuff?   

Flat Atheism sure doth fare excel  
This Deity, called back from th' lowest hell.  
Well acted then friend the Lay-Preachers part,  
To launce this pest with lines so sharp and tart.  
Herbert. This versing may him catch that sermons flies,  
And turn delight into a sacrifice.   

And of all gifted brethren thou shalt have  
By my consent, the Laurel to thy grave.  
Thus pithily God's cause to plead and clear  
By exercise, out of the Preachers sphere.  
When I behold a bezeling dead drunk crew  
Of Miscreants; methinks there's in my view  
The liveliest emblem of the lowest pit,  
That can be seen except one go to it.  
God's wrath is styled wine of astonishment,  
Which on condemned souls hath its full vent.  
The Drunkard's wine when it doth so inflame,  
Doth it not clearly represent the same?   

When as I see them swell on the Alebench,  
Bellow, blaspheme, and wallow in the stench.  
Hell's nothing else I think: Or if not it,  
Yet sure it leads to that infernal pit.   

Well may we then conclude, the drunken sot  
Must pledge himself in fire and brimstone hot.  
It is most sad, and yet most true, they'll find  
Two hells; one here, another yet behind.  
May this thy burning glass the conscience scorch  
Of Drunkards, while they are yet in the porch  
Of hell; and so most happily suspend  
Direful infernal flames world without end. Amen.   
So singeth and prayeth Your respectful friend, john Tilsley, Pastor of Deane Ch. Lancashire.   

To my worthily esteemed Friend, Mr Joseph Rigby, upon his Drunkard's Prospective.  
Sir,  

TO need no friends, t'have friends in need,  
Both good: for This ye have friends indeed:  
This will immortalize, when read,  
Your fame; advance your bliss when dead.  
This will I hope the grave control,  
And prove yours is an heavenborn soul.   

In this glass purblind eyes may see  
Drunkards not men, but monsters be.  
Dead, yet alive; of humane kind  
The scab, the shame: Also I find,  
Them voluntary Daemons styled;  
Even hell itself's with them defiled.  
Thither their souls ride post to burn,  
Leaving their partners in the urn:  
I may enlarge my creed, and tell  
My flock, the world; Beasts go to hell.  
Chris. hom. 57, 58. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Patmos for such ordained is,  
Or Philip's Poneropolis.  
Can they command that Golden ore  
On Tagus or Pactolus' shore,  
Most precious pearls, the Indian Mine,  
Or those rich Diamonds that shine  
As stars of the first M. These elves  
Would gulch all down, and damn themselves.  
What vice more vile, speak if thou canst,  
That beastiates and so much unmans?  
Ethnics abhor it, and shall I  
Tipple, like Germane sots, then die.   

Our age (like Augustine's) Synods needs  
T'extir pate these pestiferous weeds.  
This may conduce much to suppress  
These Swetian jerss and drunkenness.  
From which the Apostate Angels be  
(Spirits they are and therefore) free.  
Zeno, Anacreon, Childerick,  
And that Rovergnian Catholic.  
Alexander, Philostrates,  
Bonolus and Cleomenes,  
Were they alive to read this book,  
On sparkling cups would ne'er more look.  
In war, your fortitude and skill  
Appeared; in peace your learned quill  
Proclaims with lively voice your parts  
Not mean: scope good, good lives and hearts.   

Lessius his rules for temperance,  
Him to eternity advance.  
Yours you: I have read, practised, and find  
A healthful body, and sound mind.   

As Grotius versed at eight years old,  
So you at Eton (as I'm told)  
Where Chrysostom's tome to press you writ,  
As Savile had collected it.  
Your strain is plain; sweeter to me,  
Nutmegs gilded rotten I see.  
Magnetic virtue sure here lies,  
It so attracts my heart and eyes.  
Whilst some are toxicate with wines,  
I'm jealous lest I with your lines.  
As Bellarmine of Kempis said,  
As often new as it is read.  
Every morn grave Seneca,  
Deemed the world new, with the new day;  
And I your work; the drunkard's cup  
And character, This Glass makes up.   

Salvius Otho had a glass  
(Sueton reports) in which his face  
Each hour he viewed, to keep it free  
From spots: This ours from Anomy.   

'Tis writ that Boleslaus King  
Of Poland, ever had a thing,  
His father's portraiture in's eye,  
Which kept him from Ebriety.  
Let this your (Vade mecum) be  
Bequeathed to your vive progeny,  
With your paternal blessing; then  
They'll not prove monsters, but good men.  
Better enough then all: 'tis such,  
Less were too little, more too much.  
I'll say no more; I could no less,  
Writer, reader, writ heavens bless.   
So prayeth Your real and cordially respective Friend, James Livesay, Minister at Chow-bent Lancashire.   

To my Noble Colonel; Joseph Rigbye, Now Clerk of the Peace, for our County Palatine of Lancaster.  

THY worth for to set forth, I do forbear,  
I knowthou lov'st not thine own praise to hear;  
This truth I hope will not offend to tell  
Thou'st been my Captain, Major, Colonel.  
And I myself have seen thy manly parts,  
Strike courage into all thy soldier's hearts.   

This Glass revives thy fame; and still makes us  
Call thee our Magnus, Major, Maximus.  
For here thou pictur'st nothing with thy pen,  
But what thy cane did print upon thy men.  
Long may'st thou live in Peace, who hast so far  
Adventured thyself in time of war.  
And let him lose the love of john a Gant,  
That shall unjustly seek thee to supplant.   
Thy meanest, yet faithful Servant, expecting (as heretofore) but the word of command, Humphrey Maulebone.   

To his his true beloved Friend and Kinsman Mr joseph Rigbye.  

IN spite of envy and illiterate pride,  
Thou standest by noble judgements justified.  
Behold, the sword extols thee, and the pen  
Of honoured, learned, young and ancient men,  
Rings forth thy praise; That more for to relate  
Their suffrages were to prejudicated.   

Observe the order of thy spiritual guide,  
And make mad swearing his drunk fire bestride,  
And stagger both to hell; and with the club  
Thou banged the fire, cudgel that ugly cub;  
He's ramping mad to see his fire thus banged,  
And swears he'll kill and stay, though he be hanged,  
Nay damned too: And in this bloody rage,  
He dares thee to the clod for to engage.  
Charge this Orgoglio, drunken Cyclops son,  
Dash out his brains, and then thy work is done.  
Advance I say once more, resume thy Club,  
And send both brat and fire to Belzebub:  
There let them roar and swear, and drink and spew,  
Such as their Granddam Proserpin doth brew.  
The task's not great, if thou'lt but add a will  
To thine approved ability and skill.   
Thine in any expedition against impiety, Ja. Rigbie:   

To his worthily honoured Friend, Colonel Joseph Rigby.  
Colonel,  
BEhold thy burning Glass casts such a light,  
That Drunkards dazzled run and lose their sight;  
But thy Prospective shows men how to shun  
The Drunken rout which way so eed they run.  
I once rejoiced with thee to serve the state,  
And now thy works to read and contemplate.  
In war thy flying colours they did show,  
The way to vanquish and subdue the foe.  
I peace, thou strik'st alarms to the times,  
To purge the earth of its most horrid crimes.  
March on then Major, and my prayer shall be,  
In chase of vice great troops may follow thee.  
Ch. Carr.  
FINIS.