ANONYMOUS

By a Countrey-Poet.

A Character of London-Village.
London,... 1684. fol. single leaf.

To a Countrey-Poet' living in an England whose total population was not five and a half millions, the capital, in which half a million were concentrated, was an impressive sight.

[Macaulay, History, i. 3, gives these figures based on Gregory King's estimate in 1696. Vide D.N.B. King.]

A Character of London-Village

A Village! Monstrous! 'Tis a mighty Beast, Behemoth, or Leviathan at least;

Or like some Wilderness, or vast Meander, Where to find Friends one long enough may wander.

The Towring Chimneys like a Forrest Show,
At whose low Branches do Balconies grow.
When I came there at first, I Gazed round,
And thought myself upon Inchanted Ground;
Or else that I (in Rapture being hurl'd)
Was lately Dead, and this was th'other World.
But was surpris'd with Doubts, and could not tell,
Which of the two 'twas, whether Heav'n or Hell:
The Noise and Shows my Eyes and Ears invade,
By Coaches, Cryes, and Glitt'ring Gallants made.
My reason was Convinced in a Trice
That it was neither, But Fools Paradice;
Ladies I saw, not Handsome one in ten;
Great store of Knights, and some few Gentlemen.
Fine Fellows Flanting up and down the Streets,
Where Fop and Flutter Each the Other Greets,

Each Mimick Posture does an Ape present,
While Humble-Servant, Ends the Complement.
For Garb and Colour there's no certain Rule,
Here is your Red, your Blew, your Yellow-Fool.
Most of these Gallants seem to view Refin'd;
The Outside wond'rous Gay, but Poorly Lin'd.
I saw some of them in the Playhouse-Pit,
Where they three hours in Conversation sit,
Laugh and Talk Loud, but scarce a grain of Wit.
The Ladies to Ensnare will something say,
Tending to show the Brisk Gallants their way,
But scorn as much to Prattle Sence as they.
Here comes a Hero Cover'd close from Air,
By Porters born in a Silk-Curtain'd-Chair.
Whose Sire in honest Russet Trail'd a Plow,
And with Stout Flayl Conquer'd the Haughty
Mow.

There goes a Brisk Young Lass in a Gay Dress,
Here an Old Crone in Youthful Gawdyness.
Strange Miracles of Nature here are plac'd!
Ill-Favour'd Wenches, Cracks; some Fair, are
chaste.

The Temp'rate, Sick: Great Drinkers live in
Health.

Here Usurers have Wit, and Poets Wealth.

The Coffee House, the Rendez-vouz of Wits,
Is a Compound of Gentlemen and Cits;

And not all Wise, or else their Wits they Smother,
They sit as if Afraid of One Another.
So Pickpocket (when Deeper Lifter's by)
Budging aloof, Disowns the Mystery.
In comes a Cockt-up Bully, Looking big,

With Deep-fring'd Elbow-Gloves, and Ruffl'd Wig,

A CHARACTER OF LONDON-VILLAGE 325
He turns his Back to th' Chimney, with a Grace,
Singing and staring in each Strangers Face;
Talks Mighty things, his late Intrigues, and then
Sups off his Dish, and out he struts Agen.
And as I Rambled through this Quondam-City,
I look'd on Founding Pauls with Tears of Pity;

Village, for now to you I tell my Tale;

You have Produc'd a Mountain from a Dale: The Countrey thought the Fire had quite undone

ye,

But now I find you have both Zeal and Money....

ANONYMOUS

The Character and Qualifications of an Honest Loyal Merchant. . . . London: . . . 1686. 4to.

The ideal view of the merchant has found a favourable expression in our literature. Chaucer's marchant' had the traditional skill in arranging that Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette'; but the poet's summary is kindly enough For sothe he was a worthy man with-alle.'‘An Honest Loyal Merchant' might be considered an amplification of Breton's brief sketch of 'A Worthy Marchant.' Its new contribution is a tribute to the merchant at the end of the century that a small script of 2 or 3 lines only under our true-bred merchant's hand passes over the world for Thousands of Pounds.'

Fuller's sketch, ideal too, has a robust quality that is grateful to those who rarely meet The Good Merchant.' The dishonest ones, he tells us, 'rob a man of his purse, and never bid him stand.'

The first part of the sketch has been selected, though the second contains an interesting discussion of what should be the merchant's standing in the world and includes an account of his education in which there is a plea for Latin enough to understand an Author, or Discourse a Stranger; and to serve as a Preparative and Ground-Work for the rest of his necessary Accomplishments; a plea too for seemly penmanship, he writes a fair Genteel Hand, not crampt up to a set Secretary like a Scriveners Boy; nor scrawling Long-Tails, like a Wench at a Boarding-School, but a neat charming mixture of Roman and Italian flowing with a kind of Artificial Negligence.'

An Honest Loyal Merchant

THE Loyal Honest MERCHANT is an Universal Tradesman, and all the World is his Shop; A

AN HONEST LOYAL MERCHANT 327 diligent Bee, ever busie in bringing Honey to the Publick Hive; The Nations Purveyor, that improves its Superfluities, and supplies its Necessities; The same to the Body Politick, as the Liver, Veins, and Arteries are to the Natural; for he both raises and distributes Treasure, the vital Blood of the Common-Weal. He is the Steward of the Kingdoms Stock, which by his good or ill management, does proportionably increase or languish. One of the most useful members in a State, without whom it can never be Opulent in Peace, nor consequently Formidable in War.

FOR he fetches in the good things of the remotest Regions to Enrich his Countrey, and by the honest Magick of Industry, removes the Mines of Peru, and the Golden Sands of Guinea whither he pleases. He can make a barren Heath, or a contemptible Bogg, (that has not one Tree but what you must plant, nor one Stone but what you must bring thither, a place that has nothing of its own product worth speaking of) to be yet the richest City for its Bigness, and the greatest Storehouse and Empory for all sorts of Commodities in the World.

'Tis by his means,

The Taste of choice Arabian Spice we know, Without those scorching Heats that make it

grow.

In Indian Gems, and Persian Silks we shine; And without Planting, drink of every Vine. WITHOUT him the World would still be a kind of Wilderness, one part unknown and unbeholding to the other; and if ever its remote