Momus Elencticus
Or a light Come-off upon that serious piece of Drollerie presented by the Vice Chancellor of Oxon
in the name of all his Mirmidons at Whitehall,
to expell the Melancholy of the court, and to tickle its gizzard with a Landskip of dancing Fryars to their own Musick and Numbers.
STrike up my dull Muse, and twang me a dity,
In the elephant strain of the
Ʋniver—sitty,
Tis a tuneable age, and all Trades grow witty,
Room for Cuckolds.
The
Heads of all
Houses with their privy Members,
Have woond up their Fancies long rak'd in the embers,
To drown all the squibs of our blazing Novembers
Whip S
r. Davy
But wot you for what this clutter was made?
'Twas all to be praise the success that we had
The Spirit so spurr'd that it almost turn'd Jade
Tytere tu boyes.
So up they pickpack'd in a long checkred crue,
In several dresses of several hue,
Old
Coventry Doctors and Masters as blue
Hap at a venture
Some
Latin, some
Greek, but they strein'd hard,
Till they were out-thrown by the old Brittish Bard,
The French (with a pox) had almost all mart'd
Stand at your distance.
The rest in plain English brought each man his hymn,
As his fancy godsnig: drew up to the brim,
There's scarce an old Ballad but has lost a limb,
March on Taylors.
The first of th' Artillery that did give fire
Was a great Gun of
Christ-Church the bigg'st of the Quire,
A welch man I wi
[...] by his gate and attire
Well a go to then
The Vice Chencellor (bear back) a word still in fashion,
A Doctor at least of the latest Creation,
The cutted Analysis of Reformation
Pandite Pye crust.
He gap'd, and he voyded a tedious Epistle,
Wherein if you finde one grain of salt, whistle,
But 'twas
(suo more) an Ass mumbling a thistle.
Salve tu quoque.
Up last the Steepl his Deanship did climbe,
In a
Hogen Mogen pittifull Rythme,
Like the Chimes of
Carfax without tune or time
Caesare fultus.
Had his wit been at the University charge,
As well as his journey to
Whitehall in a Barge,
The expence of his brain had been much more large,
Friend in a corner
He clos'd them at last with a great deal of doe
With much rubbling and reaching and bodgelling too,
A thanks-giving Sermon we expect to be due
Aglogh whee Reglous
The next that offerd to proffer was
Hoyl,
A transplanted root from the low Countrey soyl,
That at
Rome's proud gates would never turn tayl,
Hold a blow
Jenkin.
The Pope, and his Crown, and Catholical glory
He kill'd, and layd out in ashes before you,
Nay and more, he set fire on Purgatory
Countrey man quarter
Altitonant Wall next sadles
Peg-Assus,
And fetcht bloud in three tongues from the shins of
Parnassus:
He frisk'd as a man would say
God bless us
Enter praesentor
The distillations of rain and peace
Had like to have melted
Johannes his grease,
For joy that his Stipend was like to encrease
[...]
Then
Langley the Master of
Pembrok Colledg
Prick'd up his ears full of heavenlified knowledg,
This was the spare wit almost of his whole Age
Parce tyroni.
And he will revenge the
Saints on the
Pope
Though this valour in him were past all our hope;
And threatens no lesse than bloud faggot and rope
Have amongst you blind harpers
Next
Roberts of
Jesus that doubty good Card,
The principallity of her Countrey to ward
Tunes up her pipes in a double regard
O puddere he vaw!
First her Latinity takes up a Page
To as little purpose as the Scots did engage,
At last the welch plood in her veins did asswage
Welsa whee humble Bee
But I leave you, Learn'd Sir, and your mountanious Song,
Lest I doe you (as you your Colledg) much wrong,
To the Devil, the Father and founder of the tongue
Vale Tom piper.
Next
Savage and
Zouch small streins did conceive,
And their Muses and mountains did seem much to heave,
The
Peace they say's made, and so they took leave
Green goose and cheese-cake.
Next
Button and
Say, and
G.O. did meet
In Hebrew well english'd and lattin shod feet,
And made a hard shift to bedawb a half sheet
Nicholas Nemo.
In Heroical Buskins
J. Maplet appears,
In hard phrases and axioms drest up to the ears,
As though hee'd mount over the tops of the sphears,
Lingua quo vadis.
The sight of his Doctorship in black and white
Put all the ships and their thunder to flight,
His
Opium has wrapp'd up the wars in long night
Valde probatum.
Jo. Harmarus then comes in by the teeth,
O had his theam been a good chine of beef,
He had cours'd him the field past any relief!
Mounte Cabal boyes
The next that pursu'd the tragical Doctor,
Was
Hexameter S.C. the
New Colledg Proctor,
Had not
Belgia been quiet tis doubt he'd have knockt her
Ritu Bocardo
Thom. Lockey of
Christ-Church, and
Terrent likewise
Their wishes and sighs propound to our eyes,
And
Bathurst of
Trinity seems to advise
Gently good
Joan th
[...]
Jones and
Everard, E. H. and
Quin,
Dick Bryan and
[...]agshaw god give you good din,
Thom. Cole and
J. Ward come ambling all in
Hey for our Town!
Will. Carpenter too a Master of Art,
Whence his Greek proceeded it puzles my heart,
But he writ a good hand and his Authour was smart
Inde praetereo.
The
Students and
Commoners like horse and foot,
Advanc'd in their ranks and came bodily to't,
For the youngsters alas knew their
Tutors could do't
Jure divino.
Much pumping there was and a great deal of puther
And many in zeal rode ore one another,
But more gave false fire and their valour did smother
Causa malignans.
In couples they tyed the two Nations at last
And bound up the
Amnesty in shackles fast,
And the Hollanders home to their Harbours they chas'd
Fadingdo dincktido.
Only L.
Atterbury to heighten his strein
(And there I confess he tickled the vein)
Thanks the Protector instead of God for the rein
Ritu v
[...]catum.
Some fellowes there were, though they thought they had none,
To save their bacon penn'd many a smooth song
VVhich I hope they have repented or will doe ere long
Cave Caveto.
Hary Berkhead (pox on't) what mak'st thou in the pack?
VVith a Comment like a Pedlar tru
[...]'d up at thy back?
Their sma
[...]l drink will never agree with thy Sack
Paribus Impar.
In stone-dead English the rest did advance,
Only one packet brought letters from
France;
And two in welch measures the morrice did dance
Tallerie whisko.
And first
R.B. of
Trinity mutter'd
In old fashion Syllables some what was sputter'd
He call'd him
Augustus and away he flutter'd
Lank
[...]ri down dilly.
Next
Brooks the Principle of
Saint Mary Hall,
Made my Lord start, though he had never a fall,
But he quickly pul
[...]'d in his Muse, brows, horns and all
Mouse in a cheese-vate.
Next
Gorges of
Johns his Thalia did reel,
Put his hand in his pocket and swore bloud and steel,
But thanks be given his fist no man did feel.
Mercifull
Atropos;
Ned Bagshaw agen upon the foe fell,
And like Corrector of the Press compare'd it so well,
That he left his Highness without paralel,
What can a man doe?
Next
Stanly brought what his friends could indite,
And
Humbarston added, though it were but a mite,
And
Hatley inflam'd call'd him
Mars his huge knight,
Con
[...]ter me that verse.
But now my
Cleavelandified Mathew trowls in
VVith a mouth full of draggons that poyson'd his skin,
But 'twas said his bumbast Muse was on the pin
Rousty Ca
[...]ousty.
In whirlwindes and earth quakes he punn'd and made faces,
In Porcupine's quils and Cyclopick traces,
He frisk'd and he winced in the tribe of Many-Asses
Mouncy Irouncy.
He so smoak'd and so stunck in his furious gears,
Till the Alderman's fur flew over his ears,
If he catch him hee'le give him a penniworth of pears
Hares head and Jibblets
Some Readers have constru'd this gallant I trow
For the dainty fine snip snap should fore run the shew,
Though the worthies have tipp'd him quite out of their row
Plangite Make sport
Next
Hodges dares promise the age shall be gold,
But I prethee good
Student dost hear? Say and hold.
For the dread of that Prophecy makes my heart cold
Salve sound taxes.
Dick Page with Levies and Subsidies next,
And the Publick faith tortures the text,
But these for long time have the people sore vext
No more of that string.
The rest are not worth the continuing the chase,
Only
Jo. Ford forced smiles in my face,
For instead of rythming he fell to say grace
Farewel good tokens.
Len. Leichfield too ventures t' flame in the reare,
Yet how he turn'd poet pray hold a blow there,
But he quickly found friends, being Beadle Esquire
Plaudite fat gut.
Thus their subject was high and their eloquence mighty,
Pray Gentiles draw nigh here shall nothing affright you,
The Squib's at an end, and so Mounsiers good night t' you
Domine E
[...]s.