The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. IIBrown, Thomas
General
The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II
Brown, Thomas
English wit and humor -- Early works to 1800; Erotic literature -- Early works to 1800; Latin literature -- Translations into English
Therefore, if ever you intend to be my rival in glory, you must fright a
bailiff once a day, stand kick and cuff once a week, challenge some
coward or other once a month, bilk your lodging once a quarter, and
cheat a taylor once a year, crow over every coxcomb you meet with, and
be sure you kick every jilt you bully into an open-legg’d submission and
a compliance of treating you; never till then will the fame of _W----n_
ring like _Dawson_’s in every coffee-house, or be the merry subject of
every tavern tittle-tattle.
[Illustration: _Bully Dawson in the Bilboes._
_Vol. II. p. 189._]
To let you know I am not like a cock or a bull-dog to lose my courage
when I change my climate, I shall proceed to give you a very modest
account of some of my bold undertakings in these diabolical confines,
these damn’d dusky unsavory grottos, where altho’ there are whole rivers
of brimstone for the convenient dipping of card-matches, yet if a man
would give one ounce of immortality for so much of a rush-candle, ’tis
as hard to be purchas’d upon the faith of a christian, as if you were to
buy honey of a bear, or a stallion of a lascivious duchess, that wants
frication more than she does money; so that at my first entrance into
this damn’d dark cavern, I stagger’d about by guess, like some drunken
son of a whore tumbled into a _Newcastle_ cole-pit; and finding myself
in this ugly condition, I could not forbear breathing a few curses out
upon the place, which, by the lord of the territories, were thrown away
as much in vain, as if I had carried lice to _Newgate_, or wish’d the
people mad in _Bedlam_: as I thus blunder’d about like a beetle in a
hollow tree, I happen’d to break my shins against a confounded poker,
upon which I made a damnable swearing for a light, that I might see
whereabouts I was, but to no purpose; I found I might as well have
call’d upon _Jupiter_ to have lent me his hand to have dragg’d me out of
_Pluto_’s dominions. This sort of stumbling entertainment so provok’d my
patience, that tho’ I knew I was under the devil’s jurisdiction, yet I
could not tell, but like a debtor in a prison, or bully in a
bawdy-house, I might fare the better for mutinying, so that I discharg’d
such a volley of new-coin’d oaths, and made such damn’d roaring and
raving, that the devils began to fear I should put hell in an uproar;
upon this a couple of tatterdemalion hobgobblings, that look’d like a
brace of scare-crows just flown out of a pease-field, seiz’d me by the
shoulders and run me into the bilboes; confound you, said I, for a
couple of hell-cats, what’s this for? For, crys one of the grim
potentates, as saucily as a reforming constable, for your tumultuous
noisy behaviour, why sure, you don’t think you are got into a
bear-garden. Wounds, quoth I, thou talk’st as if the devil kept a
conventicle; why hell at this rate is worse than a parliament-house, if
a man mayn’t have the liberty of speech, especially when ’tis to redress
his grievances.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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