%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A / SATYR / AGAINST / BRANDY. Haines, Joseph University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1683-1683 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 07/02/2014 33116

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

FArewell Damn'd Stygian Juice, who dost bewitch / From the Court Baud, down to the Country Bitch: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 383 A / SATYR / AGAINST / BRANDY. A SATYR AGAINST BRANDY. A SATIRE AGAINST BRANDY. Haines, Joseph 1683-1683 Jos. Hindmarsh

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 7/2/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America alcohol vice Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/2/2014 11:32:17 AM XBallad Casavant, Alex Created XML Version of Ballad 7/2/2014 11:32:17 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/2/2014 11:32:17 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/2/2014 11:32:17 AM Transcriptionist Two Pedersen, Emily Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/2/2014 11:32:17 AM Transcriptionist One Ortiz Mazariegos, Jennifer Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/21/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/25/2014 Checker Charlotte Becker Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/3/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/24/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Olivia Miller Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/26/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/26/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/24/2012 Bibliographer Olivia Miller Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">SATYR</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">AGAINST</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">BRANDY.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Written by</hi> Jo. Hains, <hi rend="bold">as he saith himself.</hi></hi></seg>
FArewell Damn'd Stygian Juice, who dost bewitch From the Court Baud, down to the Country Bitch: Thou liquid Flame, by whom each fiery Face Lives without Meat, and blushes without Grace: Sink to your native Hell, and mend the fire, Or, if you rather chuse to settle nigher, Return to the dull Clime from whence you came, Where Wit and Courage may require your flame, Where they Carouze in your Vesuvian Bowls, To crust the Quagmire of their Spungy Souls. Had Dives for thy scorching moysture cry'd, Abr'am in mercy had his suite deny'd: Or Bonner known thy force, the Martyrs blood Had Siss'd in thee and sav'd the Nations wood. Essence of Embers, Scum of melting Flint, With all the Native sparkles floating in't. Sure the black Chymist with the cloven Foot All AEtnas Simples in his 'Limbeck put, And double still'd, nay Quintessenc'd thy Juice, To charcoal Mortals for his future use. Fire-ship to Nature, who do'st doubly wound, For those that graple thee, are burnt and drown'd. As when Heav'n press'd th' Auxil'arys of Hell, A flaming storm on cursed Sodom fell. And when it's single Plagues could not prevail, Egypt was scal't with kindled Rain and Hail: So Natures feuds are reconcil'd in thee, Thou two great Judgments in Epitomy: God's past and future anger breaths in you A Deluge and a Conflagration too. View yonder Sot (I do not mean Sheriff S------) Grilly'd all o're by thee from Head to Foot: His drowzy Eyelids shoard above their pitch, His Cheeks with Carbuncles and Rubies rich; His Scull instead of Brains supply'd with Cinder, His Nose turns all his Handkerchifs to Tinder: He
He breaths like a Smiths Forge, and wets the fire, Not to allay the flame, but raise it higher: His trembling hands scarce heave the liquor in, His Nerves all crackle in his Parchment skin; His Stomack don't concoct, but bake his food; His Liver even Vitrifies his Blood; His Guts from Natures drudgery are freed, And in his Bowels Salamanders breed. He's grown too hot to think, too dull to laugh, And steps as if he walk'd with Pindars Staff. The moving Glass-house lightens with his Eyes, Singes his Cloaths and all his marrow fries; Glows for a while, and then in Ashes dies. Thus like a sham Prometheus, we find Thou stealest a fire from Hell to kill Mankind. But hold ------ lest we the Saints dire anger merit, By stinting their Auxiliary Spirit: We hear of late, whate're the wicked think, Thou art reform'd and turn'd a Godly drink: And doubtless thou'rt con-natural to them, For both thy Spirit and theirs abound in Phlegm; 'Ere since the Publick Faith for Plate did wimble, And sanctifi'd thy Gill with Hannahs Thimble: Thou left'st thy old bad Company of Vermin, The Drunken Porters, and the swearing Carr-men; And the lewd Drivers of the Hackney Coaches, And now tak'st up with sage discreet Debauches; Thou freely drop'st upon Gold Chains and Fur, And Sots of Quality thy Minions are. No more shalt thou foment an Ale-house brawle, But the more sober Riots at Guild-hall, Where, by thy Spirits fallible direction, The Reprobates stood Poling for Election. If this trade holds, what will the wicked doe? The Saints sequester e'vn their Vices too, For since the Art of Whoring's grown precise, And Perjury hath got demurer Eyes; 'Tis time, high time to circumcise the Gill, And not let drinking be Philistian still. Go then thou Emblem of their torrid Zeal, Add flame to flame and their stiff tempers Neal, 'Till they grow ductile to the Publick Weale. And since the Godly have espous'd thy Cause, Don't fill their heads with Libertys and Laws, Religion, Privilege, and lawless Charters, Mind them of Falstaffs Heir apparent Garters, And keep their outward Man from Ketches Quarters. One Caution more (now we are out of hearing) Many have died of drinking, some of swearing; If these two Pests should in Conjunction meet, The grass wou'd quickly grow in every street: Save thou the Nation from that double blow, And keep thy fire from Salamanca T O.
Printed for Jos. Hindmarsh at the Black-Bull in Cornhill, 1683.