Classic Poem

Rime-well, Bagshot, Vicar Catchmecy , Sir Christopher .

Rim. Come my most noble order of the club.
Cause none will else, let's make much of our selves.
His letter may procure a Dinner yet.
Bag. Cheer up Sir Kit , thou lookst too spiritually:
[I] see too much of the Tith-pig in thee.
Ch. I'm not so happy: Kit's as hungry now
As a besieged City, and as dry
As a Dutch Commentator. This vile world
Ne'r thinks of Qualities: good truth I think
'T hath much to answer for. Thy Poetry
Rimewell , and thy voice Vicar Catchmey , and
Thy Law too Bagshot is contemn'd; 'tis pitty
Professions should be slighted thus. The day
Will come perhaps, when that the Commonwealth
May need such men as we. There was a time
When Coblers were made Church-men, and those black'd
Smutch'd Creatures thrust into white Surplisses,
Look'd like so many Magpies, and did speak
Just as they, by rote. But now the Land
Surfets forsooth. Poor Labourers in Divinity
Can't earn their groat a day, unlesse it be
Reading of the Christian buriall for the dead:
When they ev'n for that reason truly thank
God for thus taking this their Brother to him.
Catch. Something profane Sir Christopher .
Chri. When I
Levell my larger thoughts unto the Basis
Of thy deep shallowness, am I prophane?
Henceforth I'l speak, or rather not speak, for
I will speak darkly.
Catch. There's one comfort then
You will be brief.
Chri. My briefness is prolix;
Thy mind is bodily, thy soul corporeal;
And all thy subtile faculties are not subtile,
Thy subtilty is dulness. I am strong.
I will not be conceiv'd by such Mechanicks.
Rime. I do conceive you though Sir Christopher .
My Muse doth sometimes take the selfsame flight.
Chri. Pauci, pauci quos aequus amavit [Iupiter] .
But Quadragessimall wits, and fancies leane
As ember weeks (which therefore I call leane,
Because they're fat) these I do doom unto
A knowing ignorance: he that's conceiv'd
By such is not conceiv'd; sense is non-sense
If understood by them. I'm strong again.
Rime. You err most Orthodoxly sweet Sir Kit .
Chri. I love that though I hate it: and I have
A kind of disagreeing consent to't.
I'm strong, I'm strong again. Let's keep these two
In desperate hope of understanding us.
Ridles, and Clouds are very lights of speech:
I'l vaile my carelesse anxious thoughts, as 'twere
In a perspicuous cloud, that I may
Whisper in a loud voice, and ev'n be silent
When I do utter words; words did I call them?
My words shall be no words, my voice no voice;
My noise no noise, my very language silence.
I'm strong, I'm strong: good Sir you understand not.
Bag. Nor do desire; 'tis meerly froth, and barme,
The yest that makes your thin small Sermons work.
Chri. Thou hold'st thy peace most vocally. Again.
Catch. I hate this Bilke.
Chri. Thou lovest cause thou dost hate.
Thy injuries are Courtesies. Strong again.
Cat. Good Sampson use not this your Asses jaw-bone
Chri. Thou'st got my love by losing it; that earnest
Jest hath regain'd my soul. Sampson was strong;
He kill'd a thousand with an Asses-jawbone,
And so will I. 'st, 'st — good friend d'y' hear?
Here is a letter friend to Mr Meanwell .
Bag. Any Reversions yet? nothing transmiss'd?
Rime. No gleanings James ? no Trencher Analects?
Ser. Parly a little with your stomacks Sirs.
Catch. There's nothing so ridiculous as the hungry:
A fasting man is a good jest at any time.
Ser. There is a Gentleman without, that will'd me
To ask if you'l admit of him among you,
He can't endure to be in good company.
Catc. You'r merry James ; yes by all means good James ;
Admit quoth he? what else? pray y' send him in.
Let's be resolv'd to fall out now; then he
Shall have the glory to compose the Quarrel,
By a good dozen of pacificall Beere.
Rime. Bag. Agreed, agreed.
Chri. My Coat allows no Quarrell.
Rime. The Colour bears't if you'l venture the stuffe,
The tendernesse of it I do confesse
Somewhat denies a grapling.
Chri. I will try,
Perhaps my Spirit will suggest some anger.
An. Save you boon sparks: wil't please you to admit me?
Chri. Your Worship graceth us in condescending
To levell thus your presence humble Sir.
And. What may I call your name most reverend Sir?
Bag. His name's Sir Kit .
Chri. My name is not so short.
'Tis a trissyllable, an't please your Worship:
But vulgar tongues have made bold to profane it
With the short sound of that unhallowed Idoll
They call a Kit. Boy learn more reverence.
Bag. Yes, to my Betters.
And. Nay friends, do not quarrel.
Chri. It is the holy cause, and I must quarrel.
Thou Son of Parchment, got between the Standish
And the stiff Buckram bag: thou that maist call
The Pen thy Father, and the inke thy Mother,
The sand thy Brother, and the wax thy Sister,
And the good Pillory thy Couzen remov'd,
I say learn reverence to thy Betters.
Bag. Set up an hour-glasse; hee'l go on untill
The last sand make his Period.
Chri. 'Tis my custome,
I do approve the Calumny: the words
I do acknowledge, but not the disgrace.
Thou vile ingrosser of unchristian deeds.
Bag. Good Israel Inspiration hold your tongue;
It makes far better Musick, when you Nose
Sternolds , or Wisdoms Meeter.
Catch. By your leave
You fall on me now Brother.
Rim. 'Tis my cause,
You are too forward Brother Catchmey .
Catch. I
Too forward?
Rim. Yes I say you are too forward
By the length of your London measure Beard.
Catch. Thou never couldst entreat that respite yet
Of thy dishonesty as to get one hair
To testifie thy Age.
Bag. I'm beardlesse too;
I hope you think not so of me?
Chri. Yes verily,
Not one hairs difference 'twixt you both.
Rim. Thou violent Cushion-thumper, hold thy tongue,
The Furies dwell in it.
Catch. Peace good Sir Kit .
Chri. Sir Kit again? Thou art a Lopez ; when
One of thy legs rots off (which will be shortly)
Thou'lt beare about a Quire of wicked Paper,
Defil'd with [un]sanctified Rithmes,
And Idols in the frontisepiece: that I
May speak to thy capacity, thou'lt be
A Balladmonger.
Catch. I shall live to see thee
Stand in a Play-house doore with thy long box,
Thy half-crown Library, and cry small Books.
Buy a good godly Sermon Gentlemen — —
A judgment shewn upon a Knot of Drunkards — —
A pill to purge out Popery — — The life
And death of Katherin Stubs — —
Chri. Thou wilt visit windows;
Me thinks I hear thee with thy begging tone
About the break of day waking the Brethren
Out of their morning Revelations.
And. Brave sport Ifaith.
Rime. Pray y' good Sir reconcile them.
If that some Justice be i'th' Ordinary now
Hee'l bind them to the peace for troubling him.
Bag. Why should he not good Sir, it is his office.
An. Now 'tis o this side; o for a pair of Cudgels!
Rime. Peace Inkhorn, there's no musick in thy tongue.
Catc. Thou and thy Rime lye both; the tongue of man
Is born to musick naturally.
Rime. Thou thing,
Thy belly looks like to some strutting hill,
O'rshadow'd with thy rough beard like a wood.
Chri. Or like a larger Jug, that some men call
A Bellarmine, but we a Conscience;
Whereon the lewder hand of Pagan workman
Over the proud ambitious head hath carv'd
An Idoll large with beard Episcopal,
Making the Vessel look like Tyrant Eglon .
Catch. Prophane again Sir Christopher I take it.
Chri. Must I be strong again? thou humane beast.
Who'rt only eloquent when thou sayst nothing,
And appear'st handsome while thou hid'st thy self.
I'm holy cause prophane.
And. Couragious Raskals,
Brave Spirits, Souldiers in their dales I warrant.
Bag. Born in the field I do assure your Worship:
This Quarrelling is meat and drink to them.
Rime. Thou lyest. Bag . Nay then I do defie thee thus.
[Ba. draws his Inkhorn and Ri. catcheth off Sr Chr. hat and spectacles .]
Rime. And thus I am prepar'd to answer thee.
Ch. For the good S t . sake part them; I am blind,
If that my Spectacles should once miscarry.
Rime. Caytiff, this holy instrument shall quaile thee.
Bag. And this shall send thee to thy couzen furies.
Chri. I feel a film come o'r mine eyes already,
I must look out an Animal conductive,
I mean a Dog.
And. Pray y' beat not out his eyes in
Anothers hands. Chri . Most strongly urg'd.
Catch. Your words
Are meerly wind. James ho! what James ! some beer.
They're mastive Dogs, they won't be parted Sir,
Without good store of Liquor.
And. I will souce them.
Ser. Drink t' 'em Sir, if that you'l have 'em quiet.
An. Is that the way? here's to you my friends; a whol one.
Ba. Were't not for that good Gentleman thou'dst smoak (for't.
Ri. Had I not vow'd some reverence to his presence,
Thou hadst been nothing.
Bag. 'Fore Mars I was dry;
This valour's thirsty: fill to my Antagonist.
Rime. No, mine own dish will serve: I'm singular.
Few vessels still do well; I carry this
To drink my beer, while others drink their sack.
I am abstemious Rimewel : I hate wine
Since I spake treason last i'th' Celler. Here
Give me thy hand, thou child of fervency.
Didst thou mistrust thy spectacles?
It was no anger, 'twas a Rapture meerly.
Chris. Drink, and excuse it after. James your help.
Come Man of voice keep time while that I drink.
This moisture shall dry up all injuries,
Which I'l remember only to forget;
And so hereafter, which I'm wont to call
The future-now, I'l love thee stubbornly.
Your beer is like my words, strong, stinging geare.
Catch. Here little Lawyer, let's be friends hereafter;
I love this reconcilement with my heart.
And. 'Tis the best deed that e'r I did: O' my conscience
I shall make a good Justice of the Peace,
There had been bloud-shed, if I had not stickled.
Ser. More bloud been spilt I warrant than beer now,
And. That Inkhorn is a deadly dangerous weapon:
It hath undone one quarter of the Kingdom.
Chris. Men should forgive; but thou art far, yea far
From it O Bagshot ; thou'rt in love with hate;
Blesse me! I see the Fiend still in his looks;
He is not reconcilable with drink;
Hee'l never love truly, till he eat with me.
The nature of his Spirit asketh meat:
He hath a Woolf in's breast; food must appease him.
And. Cold meat will doe it, wil't not?
Rim. Any thing — —
That may imploy the teeth.
And. Goe James provide;
You are not merry yet.
Catch. To satisfie you
In that point, we will sing a Song of his.
And. Let's ha't; I love these Ballads hugeously.

The Song. Catch.

Then our Musick is in prime,
When our teeth keep triple time;
Hungry Notes are fit for Knels:
May lankenes be
No Quest to me.
The Bagpipe sounds, when that it swels. Chor.
May lankenes, &c. Bagsh.

A Mooting Night brings wholsome smiles,
When John an Okes, and John a Stiles,
Doe greaze the Lawyers Satin.
A Reading-Day
Frights French away,
The Benchers dare speak Latin. Chor.
A Reading, &c. Rim.

He that's full doth Verse compose;
Hunger deales in sullen Prose:
Take notice and discard her.
The empty Spit
Ne'r cherish'd Wit,
Minerva loves the Larder. Chor.
The empty Spit, &c. Chr.

First to break Fast, then to dine,
Is to conquer Bellarmine:
Distinctions then are budding.
Old Sutcliffs Wit
Did never hit,
But after his Bag-pudding. Chor.
Old Sutcliffs Wit, &c .

And. Most admirable; a good eating Song.
Chri. Let us walk in, and practice it; my Bowels
Yern till I am in charity with all.
And. A Christian resolution good Sr Christopher .