Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

by Henry Fielding

  What would you say, if this Ursidius,

  A man well known among the widows,

  Pirst of all rakes, his mind should alter,

  And stretch his simple neck to th’ halter?

  Often within Latinus’ closet,

  (The neighbours, nay, the whole town knows it,)

  Quid, quod et antiquis uxor de moribus illi

  Quæritur? O medici mediam pertundite venam:

  Delicias hominis! Tarpeium limen adora

  Pronus, et auratam Junoni eæde juvencam,

  Si tibi contigerit capitis matrona pudici.

  Paueæ adeo Cereris vittas contingere dignæ;

  Quarum non timeat pater oscula, necte coronam

  Postibus, et densos per limina tende corymbos.

  Unus Iberinæ vir sufficit? ocyus illud

  Extorquebis, ut hæc oculo contenta sit uno.

  Magna tamen fama est cujusdam rure paterno

  Viventis: vivat Gabiis, ut vixit in agro;

  Vivat Fidenis, et agello cedo paterno.

  Quis tamen affirmat nil actum in montibus, aut in

  Speluncis? adeo senuerunt Jupiter et Mars?

  He hath escaped the cuckold’s search;

  Yet now he seeks a wife most starch;

  With good old-fashion’d morals fraught.

  Physicians give him a large draught,

  And surgeons ope his middle vein.

  O delicate taste! go, prithee strain

  Thy lungs to heaven, in thanksgivings;

  Build churches, and endow with livings.

  If a chaste wife thy lot befall,

  ‘Tis the great prize drawn in Guildhall.

  Few worthy are to touch those mysteries,

  Of which we lately know the histories,

  To Ceres sacred, who requires

  Strict purity from loose desires.

  Whereas at no crime now they boggle,

  Ev’n at their grandfathers they ogle.

  But come, your equipage make ready,

  And dress your house out for my lady.

  Will one man Iberine supply?

  Sooner content her with one eye.

  But hold; there runs a common story

  Of a chaste country virgin’s glory.

  Porticibusne tibi monstratur fœmina voto

  Digna tuo? cuneis an habent spectacula totis

  Quod securus ames, quodque inde exeerpere possis?

  Chironomon Ledam molli saltante Bathyllo,

  Tuccia vesicæ non imperat; Appula gannit

  (Sicut in amplexu) subitum, et miserabile longum:

  Attendit Thymele; Thymele tunc rustica discit.

  Ast alias, quoties aulæa recondita cessant,

  Et vacuo clausoque sonant fora sola theatro,

  Atque a plebiis longe Megalesia; tristes

  Personam thyrsmnque tenent, et subligar Acci.

  At Bath and Tunbridge let her be;

  If there she’s chaste, I will agree.

  And will the country yield no slanders?

  Is all our army gone to Flanders?

  Can the full Mall afford a Spouse,

  Or boxes, worthy of your vows?

  While some soft dance Bathyllus dances,

  Can Tuccy regulate her glances?

  Appula chuckles, and poor Thomyly

  Gapes, like a matron at a homily.

  But others, when the house is shut up,

  Nor play-bills By Desire, are put up;

  When players cease, and lawyer rises

  To harangue jury at assizes;

  When drolls at Barthol’mew begin,

  A feast day after that of Trin’.

  Urbieus exodio risum movet Attellanæ

  Gestibus Autonoes; hune diligit Ælia pauper.

  Solvitur his magno comœdi fibula; sunt quæ

  Chrysogonum cantare vetent; Hispulla tragædo

  Gaudet; an expectas, ut Quintilianus ametur?

  Accipis uxorem, de qua citharœdus Echion

  Aut Glaphyrus fiat pater, Ambrosiusve choraules.

  Longa per angustos figamus pulpita vicos:

  Ornentur postes, et grandi janua lauro,

  Ut testudineo tibi, Lentule, eonopeo

  Nobilis Euryalum mirmillonem exprimât infans.

  Nupta senatori comitata est Hippia ludium.

  Others, I say, themselves turn players,

  With Clive and Woffington’s gay airs;

  Paint their fair faces out like witches,

  And cram their thighs in Fle — w — d’s breeches.

  Italian measures while Fausan

  Moved, what a laugh thro’ gall’ry ran?

  Poor Ælia languishes in vain;

  Fausan is bought with greater gain.

  Others make B — rd their wiser choice,

  And wish to spoil his charming voice.

  Hispulla sighs for Buskin’s wit,

  Could she love Lyt —— — n or P — t?

  Choose you a wife, whom the blind harper,

  Or any fiddler else, or sharper,

  Fine rivals! might with ease enjoy,

  And make thee father of a boy?

  Come then, prepare the nuptial feast,

  Adorn the board, invite the guest;

  That madam may, in time, be big,

  And bring an heir resembling Fig.

  Hippia, to Parl’ment man was wed,

  But left him for a fencer’s bed:

  Ad Pharon et Nilum, famosaque mœnia Lagi;

  Prodigia, et mores urbis damnante Cànopo.

  Immemor ilia domus, et eonjugis, atque sororis,

  Nil patriæ induisit; plorantesqne improba gnatos,

  Utque magis stupeas, ludos, Paridemque reliquit.

  Sed quanquam in magnis opibus, plumaque paterna,

  Et segmentatis dormisset parvula cunis,

  Contempsit pelagus; famam contempserat olim,

  Cujus apud molles minima est jactura cathedras.

  Tyrrhenos igitur fluetus, lateque sonantem

  Pertulit Ionium constanti pectore, quamvis

  Mutandum toties esset mare. Justa pericli

  Si ratio est, et honesta, timent; pavidoque gelantur

  Pectore, nec tremulis possunt insistere plantis:

  Fortem animum præstant rebus, quas turpiter audent

  Si jubeat conjux, durum est conscendere navim;

  With him she went to some plantation,

  Which damned the morals of our nation;

  Forgetful of her house and sister,

  And spouse and country too, which miss’d her:

  Her brawling brats ne’er touch’d her mind;

  Nay more, young C — r’s left behind.

  Nor was this nymph bred up to pattins,

  But swaddled soft in silks and satins;

  Yet she despised the sea’s loud roar;

  Her fame she had despised before:

  For that’s a jewel, in reality,

  Of little value ‘mongst the quality.

  Nor Bay of Biscay raised her fears,

  Nor all the Spanish privateers.

  But should a just occasion call

  To danger, how the charmers squall!

  Cold are their breasts as addled eggs,

  Nor can they stand upon their legs,

  More than an infant that is rickety;

  But they are stronger in iniquity.

  Should spouse decoy them to a ship,

  Good heavens! how they’d have the hip!

  Tunc sentina gravis; tunc summus vertitur aer.

  Quæ mœchum sequitur, stomacho valet: ilia maritum

  Convomit: hæc inter nautas et prandet, et errat

  Per puppim, et duros gaudet tractare rudentes.

  Qua tamen exarsit forma? qua capta juventa

  Hippia? Quid vidit propter quod ludia dici

  Sustinuit? nam Sergiolus jam radere guttur

  Cœperat, et secto requiem sperare lacerto.

  Præterea multa in facie deformia; sicut

  Attritu
s galea, medijsque in naribus ingens

  Gibbus; et acre malum semper stillantis ocelli.

  Sed gladiator erat; facit hoc illos Hyacinthos:

  Hoc pueris, patriæque, hoc prætulit ilia sorori,

  Atque viro: ferrum est, quod amant: hic Sergius idem

  Accepta rude, cœpisset Yeiento videri.

  “‘Tis hard to clamber up the sides;

  O filthy hold! and when she rides,

  It turns one’s head quite topsy-turvy,

  And makes one sicker than the scurvy.”

  Her husband is the nauseous physic,

  With her gallant she’s never sea-sick.

  To dine with sailors then she’s able,

  And even bears a hand to cable.

  But say, what youth or beauty warm’d thee,

  What, Hippia, in thy lover charm’d thee?

  For little Sergy, like a goat,

  Was bearded down from eyes to throat:

  Already had he done his best;

  Fit for an hospital, and rest.

  His face wore many a deformity,

  Upon his nose a great enormity.

  His eyes distill’d a constant stream;

  In matter not unlike to cream.

  But he was still of the bear-garden,

  Hence her affection fond he shared in:

  This did, beyond her children, move;

  Dearer than spouse or country prove;

  In short, ‘tis iron which they love.

  Dismiss this Sergius from the stage;

  Her husband could not less engage.

  Quid privata domus, quid fecerit Hippia, curas?

  Eespice rivales Divorum: Claudius audi

  Quæ tulerit: dormire virum cum seuserat uxor,

  (Ausa Palatino tegetem præferre cubili,

  Sumere nocturnos meretrix Augusta cucullos,)

  Linquebat, comite ancilla non amplius una;

  Et nigrum flavo crinem abscondente galero,

  Intravit calidum veteri centone lupanar,

  Et cellam vacuam, atque suam: tunc nuda papillis

  Constitit auratis, titulum mentita Lyciscæ,

  Ostenditque tuum, generose Britannice, ventrem.

  Excepit blanda intrantes, atque æra poposcit.

  But say you, if each private family

  Doth not produce a perfect Pamela;

  Must every female bear the blame

  Of one low, private, strumpet’s shame?

  See then a dignified example,

  And take from higher life a sample;

  How horns have sprouted on heads royal,

  And Harry’s wife hath been disloyal.

  When she perceived her husband snoring,

  Th’ imperial strumpet went a whoring:

  Daring with private rakes to solace,

  She preferr’d Ch-rl-s Street to the Palace:

  Went with a single maid of honour,

  And with a capuchin upon her,

  Which hid her black and lovely hairs;

  At H — d’s softly stole up stairs:

  There at receipt of custom sitting,

  She boldly call’d herself the Kitten;

  Smiled, and pretended to be needy,

  And ask’d men to come down the ready.

  JUVENAL’S SIXTH SATIRE

  Mox, lenone suas jam dimittente puellas,

  Tristis abit; sed, quod potuit, tamen ultima cellam

  Clausit, adhuc ardens rigidæ tentigine vulvæ;

  Et lassata viris, nondum satiata recessit:

  Obscurisque genis turpis, fumoque lucernæ

  Fœda, lupanaris tulit ad pulvinar odorem.

  Hippomanes, carmenque loquar, coctumque venenum

  Privignoque datum? faciunt graviora coactæ

  Imperio sexus, minimumque libidine peccant

  Optima sed quare Cesennia teste marito?

  Bis quingenta dedit; tanti vocat ille pudicam:

  Nee Veneris pliaretris maeer est; aut lampade fervet

  Inde faces ardent; veniunt a dote sagittæ.

  Libertas emitur: coram licet innuat, atque

  Eescribat; vidua est, locuples quæ nupsit avaro.

  Cur desiderio Bibulæ Sertorius ardet?

  Si verum excutias, facies, non uxor amatur.

  But when for fear of justice’ warrants,

  The bawd dismiss’d her whores on errands,

  She stayed the last — then went, they say,

  Unsatisfied, tho’ tired, away.

  Why should I mention all their magic

  Poison, and other stories tragic?

  Their appetites are all such rash ones,

  Lust is the least of all their passions.

  Cesennia’s husband call, you cry,

  He lauds her virtues to the sky.

  She brought him twice ten thousand pounds,

  With all that merit she abounds.

  Venus ne’er shot at him an arrow,

  Her fortune darted through his marrow:

  She bought her freedom, and before him

  May wink, forgetful of decorum.

  And lovers billets-doux may answer:

  For he who marries wives for gain, sir,

  A widow’s privilege must grant ‘em,

  And suffer captains to gallant ‘em.

  But Bibula doth Sertorius move:

  I’m sure he married her for love.

  Love I agree was in the case;

  Not of the woman, but her face.

  Fiant obscuri dentes, oculique minores;

  Collige sarcinulas, dicet libertus, et exi;

  J am gravis es nobis, et sæpe emungeris; exi.

  Ocyus, et propera; sicco venit altera naso.

  Interea calet, et regnat, poscitque maritum

  Pastores, et ovem Canusinam, ulmosque Falernas.

  Quantulum in hoc? pueros omnes, ergastula tota,

  Let but one wrinkle spoil her forehead;

  Or should she chance to have a sore head;

  Her skin grow flabby, or teeth blacken,

  She quickly would be sent a packing.

  “Be gone!” — (the gentleman would cry)

  “Are those d — n’d nostrils never dry?

  Defend me, Heaven, from a strumpet,

  Who’s always playing on a trumpet.”

  But while her beauteous youth remains,

  With power most absolute she reigns.

  Now rarities she wants; no matter

  What price they cost — they please the better.

  Italian vines, and Spanish sheep.

  But these are trifles — you must keep

  An equipage of six stout fellows;

  Of no use to ‘em, as they tell us,

  Quodq; domi non est, et habet vicinus, ematur.

  Mense quidem brumæ, cum jam mercator Iason

  Clausus, et armatis obstat casa Candida nautis,

  Grandia tolluntur crystallina, maxima rursus

  Myrrhina, deinde adamas notissimus, et Berenices

  In digito factus pretiosior: hunc dedit olim

  Barbarus incestae; dedit hunc Agrippa sorori;

  Observant ubi festa mero pede sabbata reges,

  Et vetus indulget, senibus dementia porcis.

  Nullane de tantis gregibus tibi digna videtur?

  Sit formosa, decens, dives, foecunda, vetustos

  Porticibus disponat avos, intactior omni

  Crinibus effusis bellum dirimente Sabina:

  (Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno.)

  Quis feret uxorem, cui constant omnia? malo,

  Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, mater

  Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers

  Grande supercilium, et numeras in dote triumphos.

  Unless to walk before their chairs,

  When they go out to show their airs.

  However liberal your grants,

  Still what her neighbour hath she wants;

  Even Pitt’s precious diamond — that

  Which Lewis Fifteen wears
in’s hat;

  Or what Agrippa gave his sister.

  Incestuous bride! for which he kiss’d her.

  (Sure with less sin a Jew might dine,

  If hungry, on a herd of swine.)

  But of this herd, I mean of women,

  Will not an individual do, man?

  No, none my soul can e’er inflame,

  But the rich, decent, lovely dame:

  Her womb with fruitfulness attended;

  Of a good ancient house descended:

  A virgin too, untouch’d, and chaste,

  Whom man ne’er took about the waist.

  She’s a rare bird! find her who can,

  And much resembling a black swan.

  But who could bear a wife’s great merit,

  Who doth such qualities inherit?

  I would prefer some country girl

  To the proud daughter of an earl;

  If my repose must still be hind’red

  With the great actions of her kindred.

  Tolle tuum, precor, Hannibalem, victumque Syphacem

  In castris, et cum tota Carthagine migra.

  Parce, precor, Pæan; et tu, Dea, pone sagittas;

  Nil pueri faciunt; ipsam configite matrem;

  Amphion clamat: sed Pæan contrahit arcum.

  Extulit ergo gregem natorum, ipsumque parentem,

  Dum sibi nobilior Latonæ gente videtur,

  Atque eadem scrofa Niobe fœcundior alba.

  Quæ tanti gravitas? quæ forma, ut se tibi semper

  Imputet? hujus enim rari, summique voluptas

  Nulla boni, quoties animo corrupta superbo

  Plus aloes, quam mellis, habet. Quis deditus autcm

  Go to the devil, should I say,

  With the West Indies ta’en — away.

  “Hold, Pæan, hold! thou goddess, spare

  My children,” was Amphion’s prayer.

  “They have done nought to forfeit life;

  O shoot your arrows at my wife.”

  His prayer nor god nor goddess heard,

  Nor child, nor ev’n the mother spared.

  For why, the vixen proudly boasted,

  More than Latona she was toasted;

  And had been oft’ner in the straw,

  Than the white sow Æneas saw.

  But say, though Nature should be lavish,

  Can any mien or beauty ravish,

  Whose mind is nothing but inanity,

  Mere bladder blown with wind of vanity?

  Trust, if for such you give your money,

  You buy more vinegar than honey.

  Usque adeo est, ut non illam, quam laudibus effert,

  Horreat? inque diem septenis oderit horis?

  Quædam parva quidem; sed non toleranda maritis.