Come ye old English huntsmen that love noble sport,
Here's a pack to be sold and staunch dogs of the sort;
Not Sir Sewster nor Chetwynd can match our fleet hounds
For breaking down fences or leaping o'er bounds;
Some are deep-mouthed and speedy, some mad, blind, and lame,
Most yelpers and curs, but all fit for the game.
Then to horse, loyal hearts, lest the round-heads deceive ye,
For they have the dogs, and are riding tantivy.
There's Atheist and Deist, and fawning Dissenter,
There's Republican sly and old long-winded Canter;
There's Heresy, Schism, and mild Moderation,
That's still in the wrong for the good of the nation;
There's Baptist, Socinian, and Quaker with scruples,
Till kind toleration linked 'em all in church-couples.
Then to horse, etc.
Some were bred in the camp, and some dropped in the fleet,
Under bulks some were littered and some in the street;
Some are good harmless curs, without tooth or claw,
Some were whelped in a shop and some runners at law;
Some were poor wretched curs, mongrels, starters and setters,
Till dividing the spoil they put in with their betters.
Then to horse, etc.
A few, very few, of the true English breed,
Whose noses are good and of excellent speed;
But what's a fine mouth to oppose every throat,
Where number and noise quite drown the sweet note?
If he hits of a fault or runs the scent right,
Honest Tory is worried for a rank Jacobite.
Then to horse, etc.
Five hundred stout dogs are a brave pack to run,
But the leaders in chief are but old forty-one;
On hot burning scent, when they open their throats,
Then trail a court-place, how the staunchest change notes!
Though no horn nor voice can their fury control,
Yet to the White Staff they hunt all under bole.
Then to horse, etc.
Cries the huntsman, Ben Hoadly, dear dogs I'm a knave,
But you're all sovereign curs, and your prince is your slave;
This my writings will prove, stole from Prynne, Nye, and Peters,
That all free-born dogs may fall on the betters:
Then away on that scent, 'tis the old game and good,
While peers have fat haunches, and kings royal blood.
Then to horse, etc.
A stout orthodox doctor fell first in the wind;
The pack opened their throats, in hopes mob would ha' joined;
By a strong passive scent they ran him full speed,
'Till the rabble cried out, You're too rank there—Take heed;
What, o'erleap the church-pales and break through constitution?
Sure the devil's your leader and you hunt for confusion!
Then to horse, etc.
At the head of the pack stupid William's commanding,
Who's of quality breed, by his deep understanding;
If to dull worthless whelps we may titles afford,
His merits confess him a dog of a lord;
Those crafty old curs that despise the poor tool,
Yet only for luck's sake they hunt with a fool.
Then to horse, etc.
There's blasphemy Jack that was stripped by Oak Royal,
The republican whelp of a sire that was loyal;
With gaol-birds and whores to plantations he crossed,
Till the sharper retrieved what the bubble had lost;
Now in hopes of a place, he still yelps and impeaches,
Though your pert forward cur oft himself overreaches.
Then to horse, etc.
There's Wolf the rapacious, old Bluster and Thunder,
Sir Peter the grim and the late Speaker Blunder;
For your dull heavy curs love to mount in a chair,
Though like monkeys that climb they expose their parts bare;
And Jackal the ill-looked, who trains up newcomers,
And still speaks in season, for his wit comes from Somers.
Then to horse, etc.
There's Hackum and Brass for their deep mouths renowned,
Because empty skulls have a great strength of sound;
Send Hackum to Spain, what great feats he'll achieve,
And his conduct's enough to make senates believe;
And young Brass of Corinth can never deceive ye,
For he pays off the Cause just as well as the navy.
Then to horse, etc.
How honor and honesty dogs can unite,
For their dear country's sake, they'll steal, plunder, and bite;
Themselves and their whelps they enrich for its good,
And make monarch's great by shedding their blood;
Yet so eager for game, the white staff take away,
They'd hunt down Volpone for a rank beast of prey.
Then to horse, etc.
Then Tory, poor Tory, never hope to prevail,
You are beat from the pack with a stone at your tail;
Go learn to plead conscience when you cheat, lie, and cant,
And plunder the public with the looks of a saint;
If you'd join the old set, with new principles fit ye,
Stick at nothing that's base, you'll be of the committee.
Then to horse, etc.
Here's a pack to be sold and staunch dogs of the sort;
Not Sir Sewster nor Chetwynd can match our fleet hounds
For breaking down fences or leaping o'er bounds;
Some are deep-mouthed and speedy, some mad, blind, and lame,
Most yelpers and curs, but all fit for the game.
Then to horse, loyal hearts, lest the round-heads deceive ye,
For they have the dogs, and are riding tantivy.
There's Atheist and Deist, and fawning Dissenter,
There's Republican sly and old long-winded Canter;
There's Heresy, Schism, and mild Moderation,
That's still in the wrong for the good of the nation;
There's Baptist, Socinian, and Quaker with scruples,
Till kind toleration linked 'em all in church-couples.
Then to horse, etc.
Some were bred in the camp, and some dropped in the fleet,
Under bulks some were littered and some in the street;
Some are good harmless curs, without tooth or claw,
Some were whelped in a shop and some runners at law;
Some were poor wretched curs, mongrels, starters and setters,
Till dividing the spoil they put in with their betters.
Then to horse, etc.
A few, very few, of the true English breed,
Whose noses are good and of excellent speed;
But what's a fine mouth to oppose every throat,
Where number and noise quite drown the sweet note?
If he hits of a fault or runs the scent right,
Honest Tory is worried for a rank Jacobite.
Then to horse, etc.
Five hundred stout dogs are a brave pack to run,
But the leaders in chief are but old forty-one;
On hot burning scent, when they open their throats,
Then trail a court-place, how the staunchest change notes!
Though no horn nor voice can their fury control,
Yet to the White Staff they hunt all under bole.
Then to horse, etc.
Cries the huntsman, Ben Hoadly, dear dogs I'm a knave,
But you're all sovereign curs, and your prince is your slave;
This my writings will prove, stole from Prynne, Nye, and Peters,
That all free-born dogs may fall on the betters:
Then away on that scent, 'tis the old game and good,
While peers have fat haunches, and kings royal blood.
Then to horse, etc.
A stout orthodox doctor fell first in the wind;
The pack opened their throats, in hopes mob would ha' joined;
By a strong passive scent they ran him full speed,
'Till the rabble cried out, You're too rank there—Take heed;
What, o'erleap the church-pales and break through constitution?
Sure the devil's your leader and you hunt for confusion!
Then to horse, etc.
At the head of the pack stupid William's commanding,
Who's of quality breed, by his deep understanding;
If to dull worthless whelps we may titles afford,
His merits confess him a dog of a lord;
Those crafty old curs that despise the poor tool,
Yet only for luck's sake they hunt with a fool.
Then to horse, etc.
There's blasphemy Jack that was stripped by Oak Royal,
The republican whelp of a sire that was loyal;
With gaol-birds and whores to plantations he crossed,
Till the sharper retrieved what the bubble had lost;
Now in hopes of a place, he still yelps and impeaches,
Though your pert forward cur oft himself overreaches.
Then to horse, etc.
There's Wolf the rapacious, old Bluster and Thunder,
Sir Peter the grim and the late Speaker Blunder;
For your dull heavy curs love to mount in a chair,
Though like monkeys that climb they expose their parts bare;
And Jackal the ill-looked, who trains up newcomers,
And still speaks in season, for his wit comes from Somers.
Then to horse, etc.
There's Hackum and Brass for their deep mouths renowned,
Because empty skulls have a great strength of sound;
Send Hackum to Spain, what great feats he'll achieve,
And his conduct's enough to make senates believe;
And young Brass of Corinth can never deceive ye,
For he pays off the Cause just as well as the navy.
Then to horse, etc.
How honor and honesty dogs can unite,
For their dear country's sake, they'll steal, plunder, and bite;
Themselves and their whelps they enrich for its good,
And make monarch's great by shedding their blood;
Yet so eager for game, the white staff take away,
They'd hunt down Volpone for a rank beast of prey.
Then to horse, etc.
Then Tory, poor Tory, never hope to prevail,
You are beat from the pack with a stone at your tail;
Go learn to plead conscience when you cheat, lie, and cant,
And plunder the public with the looks of a saint;
If you'd join the old set, with new principles fit ye,
Stick at nothing that's base, you'll be of the committee.
Then to horse, etc.