Only one noisy ill-tongu'd whelp,
Thersites call'd, was heard to yelp:
The rogue had neither shame nor manners;
His hide was only fit for tanners:
With downright malice to defame
Good honest cocks, was all his aim:
All sorts of folks hard names he'd call,
But aldermen the worst of all.
Grotesque his figure was and vile,
Much in the Hudibrastic style:
One shoulder 'gainst his head did rest,
The other dropp'd below his breast;
His lank lean limbs in growth were stinted,
And nine times worse than Wilkes he squinted:
His pate was neither round nor flat,
But shap'd like Mother Shipton's hat.
You'd think, when this baboon was speaking,
You heard some damn'd blind fiddler squeaking.
Now this sad dog by dirty joking
Was every day the chief provoking:
The Greeks despis'd the rogue, and yet
To hear his vile harangues they'd sit
Silent as though he'd been a Pitt.
His screech-owl's voice he rais'd with might
And vented thus his froth and spite:
 
 
Thersites from the matter wide is,
Or something vexes great Atrides;
But what the murrain it can be,
The Lord above can only see!
No man alive can be censorious,
His reign has been so very glorious:
Then what has lodg'd the heavy bullet
Of discontent within his gullet,
That makes him look as foul as thunder,
To me's a secret and a wonder:
He had the best, the Grecians know,
Of gold, and handsome wenches too.
Best did I say? Bar Helen's bum,
He had the best in Christendom,
And yet's not pleas'd: but tell us what
Thy mighty kingship would be at?
Say but, shall Greece and I go speed
To Troy, and bring thee in thy need
The race of royal sons of whores,
By ransom to increase thy stores?
When we return, prepare to seize
Whate'er the royal eye shall please:
This thou mayst do sans dread and fear;
'Tis mighty safe to plunder here.
When the fit moves thee for that same,
Take any captain's favourite dame;
Our master wills, and 'tis but fit
Such scrubs as we should all submit.
Ye women Greeks, a sneaking race,
Take my advice to quit this place;
And leave this mighty man of pleasure
To kiss his doxies at his leisure.
When Hector comes, we'll then be mist
When Hector comes, he'll be bepist.
The man that makes us slaves submit,
When Hector comes, will be be – t;
He'll rue the dire unlucky day
He forc'd Achilles' girl away:
That buxom wench we all agreed
To give the bully for his need.
Achilles, though in discontent,
Don't think it proper to resent:
But if the bully's patience ceases,
He'll kick thee into half-crown pieces.
Sudden Ulysses with a bound
Rais'd his backside from off the ground,
Ready to burst his very gall
To hear this scurvy rogue so maul
The constable of Greece – an elf,
Famous for hard-mouth'd words himself;
His eyes look'd fierce, like ferrets red;
Hunchback he scans; and thus he said:
 
 
Moon-calf, give o'er this noisy babbling,
And don't stand prating thus and squabbling.
If thy foul tongue again dispute
The royal sway, I'll cut it out;
Thou art, and hast been from thy birth,
As great a rogue as lives on earth.
What plea canst thou have names to call,
Who art the vilest dog of all?
Think'st thou a single Greek will stir
An inch for such a snarling cur?
How dar'st thou use Atrides' name,
And of a constable make game?
For safe return great Jove we trust:
'Tis ours to fight, and fight we must
If to our noble chief a few
Make presents, pray, what's that to you?
What mighty gifts have you bestow'd,
Except your venom? scurvy toad!
If the bold bucks their plunder gave,
Thou canst not think' among the brave
We reckon such a lousy knave.
May I be doom'd to keep a tin-shop,
Or smite my soul into a gin-shop,
There to be drawn by pint or gill,
For drunken whores to take their fill;
Or may I find my dear son Telley
With back and bones all beat to jelly;
Or in his stead behold another,
Got by some rascal on his mother;
If I don't punish the next fault,
By stripping off thy scarlet coat,
That shabby, ragged, thread-bare lac'd coat
Then with a horsewhip dust thy waistcoat;
I'll lay on so that all the navy
Shall hear thy curship roar peccavi.
 
 
This said, his broomshaft with a thwack
He drove against his huckle back.
It fell with such a dev'lish thump,
It almost rais'd another hump.
The poor faint-hearted culprit cries,
And tears ran down his blood-shot eyes:
With clout he wip'd his ugly face,
And sneak'd in silence to his place.
Then might you hear the mob declare
Their thoughts on courage, and on fear.
Up to the stars they cry'd Ulysses,
A braver fellow never pisses;
Of insolence he stops the tide,
Nor gives it time to spread too wide.
We want but half a score such samples,
To make all prating knaves examples:
'Twould teach the mob much better things,
Than dare to chatter about kings.
Whilst thus they sing Ulysses' praises,
The constable his body raises.
The gen'ral's truncheon of command
He flourish'd in his dexter hand.
Pallas in herald's coat stood by,
And with great noise did silence cry,
That all the rabble far and near
This crafty Grecian's speech might hear.
With staring looks and open jaws
They catch each syllab as it flows.
First, with his hand he scratch'd his head,
To try if wit's alive or dead:
But, when he found his wit was strong,
And ready to assist his tongue,
To clear his throat he hem'd aloud,
And thus humbugg'd the list'ning crowd:
 
 
Unlucky chief, to be so us'd,
Deserted first, and then abus'd!
At Argos, when we came to muster,
And were all gather'd in a cluster,
The general voice was heard to say,
The de'il fetch him that runs away!
Then took a bible oath that night,
They never would return from fight
Till the old Trojan town should tumble;
And yet you see for home they grumble.
I own myself, 'tis very hard
To be from home so long debarr'd:
If but a single fortnight we
Are kept confin'd upon the sea
From our good wives and bantlings dear,
How do we rave, and curse, and swear!
Then, after nine years' absence, sure
These folks may look a little sour.
They're not to blame for being sad;
But thus bamboozled, makes one mad:
Though wizard Calchas plainly said,
If we the space of nine years staid,
The tenth we surely should destroy
This paltry mud-wall'd borough Troy.
Have patience then, and let's endure
To box it out a few weeks more.
Remember how a mighty dragon
A plane-tree mounted from a waggon;
He found a bird's nest at the top,
And quickly ate eight young ones up;
To make the ninth there wants another;
On which the serpent snapp'd the mother:
Though, after he had made this rout,
He ne'er had time to shit 'em out;
For twenty minutes were not gone
Before he chang'd to solid stone,
Where, on the summit of a hill,
At Aulis, you may see him still.
When Calchas saw this wondrous thing,
Like Endor's witch, he drew a ring;
And, standing by himself i' th' middle,
Began this wonder to unriddle:
 
 
My friends, if you'll but lend an ear,
I'll quickly ease you of your fear:
Give you but credit to my speeches,
And then you'll all keep cleaner breeches.
This prodigy from Jove was sent ye,
To show that something good he meant ye:
As many birds, so many years
Should we be kept in hopes and fears;
But 'ware the tenth, for then shall Ilion
Tumble, though guarded by a million.
All this may happen, if you stay,
But cannot, if you run away:
For, be the captains e'er so cunning,
No towns were ever ta'en by running.
Can you remember Helen's rape,
And let those Trojan whelps escape?
Let that eternal rascal go
That made poor Helen cry O! O?
 
 
Up started then old chitter chatter,
And lent his hand to clench the matter:
You are fine fellows, smite my eyes,
If blust'ring words could get a prize:
At first you all could say great things,
And swear you'd pull down popes and kings;
In a great splutter take, like Teague,
The solemn covenant and league;
For Ilion's walls resolve to steer,
And store of bread and cheese prepare.
Now all, I find, was but a joke;
Your bouncing's vanish'd into smoke.
But precious time by talk is spent;
To pull down Troy is our intent;
And we will do't without delay,
If you, Atrides, lead the way.
Whoever here are not content,
Pray let 'em all be homeward sent.
Their help we value not three farthings:
Cowards make excellent churchwardens;
Then let them to their parish go,
And serve their town in noise and show.
No weapon should they touch but needles,
Or staves for constables and beadles:
Such posts as these will suit men right,
That eat much keener than they fight;
Therefore, whoever dare not stay,
I'd have directly sneak away.
When we the Trojan hides shall curry
Without their help, they'll be so sorry
That they will hang themselves, I hope —
And, by my soul, I'll find 'em rope.
Then how the rogues will wish they'd fought!
But wishes will avail 'em nought.
Did not great Jove, when we set out,
Make a most damn'd confounded rout?
Did he not roll the ball, and roll
Till he half crack'd his mustard bowl³;
And kept the noise upon our right,
To hearten us to go and fight,
Till every wench that Troy did dwell in
Should cry O! O! as much as Helen?
Show me the man that dare but think
To make the poorest Grecian shrink;
If any rascal draws one scrub in,
I'll give the dog a handsome drubbing.
And thou, my bully, be not nice,
But take for once a fool's advice;
Let's not like city rabble fight,
Who roar all day, and drink all night;
Millions of such can ne'er oppose
A little band of men well chose;
For discipline, when manag'd right,
Will make a trainband captain fight.
Let me advise, that ev'ry shire
To their own rendezvous retire;
Nor let them mix, but each be sent
To his own ragged regiment.
Let their chief constable command,
If you can find a chief will stand:
The leaders then will quickly ken
Who fight like women, who like men;
Who fight as if inspir'd by Mars,
Or who, like Dutchmen, hang an arse;
Can punish every sneaking knave,
And with good punch reward the brave:
Then shall we understand, no doubt,
Why Troy so long has held it out;
And if they've done us all these evils,
By help of men, or gods, or devils.
 
 
Atrides gave him this for answer:
I now can plainly see, old grandsire,
That noisy chatt'ring ribs of thine
Has got more brains by half than mine:
If Jove, to help us in our streights,
Would lend us half a score such pates,
Split me, we should have brains enough
To strip these Trojans into buff,
And all the men and women leave
As nak'd as Adam first knew Eve.
But Jove, or by design or chance;
Has led us all a pretty dance:
'Tis he that makes us thus dispute
And squabble till we all fall out.
As for Achilles, I abus'd him,
Kidnap'd his girl, and vilely us'd him;
And, like two English tars, we swore
And scolded for a little whore;
But hope (unless I am beguil'd)
Ere long we shall be reconcil'd;
And then, my boys, you'll see how soon
This whore's nest, Troy, will tumble down.
But now 'tis time for every sinner
To look out sharp to find a dinner;
And then we'll fight, while fighting's good,
And drench our soleless shoes in blood.
Fit then your potlids on your wrists,
And grasp your broomsticks in your fists;
Your mettled horses bring all out,
Both cut and longtail, for this bout.
Like hungry wolves and bears we'll fight,
And kick and cuff from morn to night:
Who dares his coward head to flinch
The thousandth part of half an inch
Or should a moment's time let slip,
By skulking in his crazy ship,
His scurvy hide, for shunning blows,
Shall be devour'd by carrion crows.
Soon as he spoke, both front and rear
Began to look confounded queer.
But late they thought to kiss their wives,
And lead at home good quiet lives;
Instead of that, they find they must
Have t'other bout at cut and thrust:
So forc'd against their wills to stay,
The grumbling whore's-birds sneak'd away.
Now fires by scores were quickly made,
And cows by dozens knock'd o' th' head.
The victuals for theirselves they took,
But wisely fed their gods with smoke:
For men it would be choking stuff,
But for the gods did well enough.
And whilst the garbage broils, they pray
T'escape a broken pate that day.
But to fill all their bellies full,
The priest had drest a fine young bull;
And then invited ev'ry chief
To come and eat this rare bull beef;
Ask'd Nestor first, because his beard
Was longest by a full half-yard;
Idomen did the next succeed,
And then that varlet Diomed:
Ajax the less, and Ajax great,
With sly Ulysses took their seat;
Lest they should think the cuckold slighted,
He came to dinner uninvited.
Now each man draws his pudding-knife,
And eats as though he ate for life.
But first, Atrides said a grace,
Holding his hat before his face;
Then added, in a canting tone,
A pray'r he'd better left alone.
 
 
O mighty Jupiter! that shrouds
Thy dwelling-house with coal-black clouds
Of thy own weaving, great protector,
Grant I may swinge this sad dog, Hector,
Without the help, if so thy will is,
Of that same bullying scrub Achilles.
But Jove, I verily believe,
Just then was laughing in his sleeve;
Nor would he let the foolish elf
Kill one much better than himself:
But though he kick'd the canting pray'r
A thousand fathom in the air,
Yet did he not refuse the treat,
But snuff'd the smoke, and lick'd the meat.
And now, to show they scorn all thieving,
They serve Jove first, then take his leaving;
Upon his altar burnt a piece,
And up his nose sent smoke and grease:
The god they were resolv'd to please,
Or smoke him till they made him sneeze:
For he would think them very hollow
To keep him sharper than Apollo;
Therefore, Burn more and more, they cry'd,
Until he owns he's satisfy'd.
When all had stuff'd their bellies full,
And ate the very hoofs o' th' bull,
Old chatt'ring Nestor 'gan to talk,
And thus to Agamemnon spoke:
 
 
Bid the blind fiddlers scrape away,
And all the troops shall march to-day;
And, that no useful man be mist,
Let muster-master bring his list
And call 'em o'er: if then we're right,
Do you lead on, by Jove we'll fight.
At the chief constable's commands
They muster'd all their trusty bands;
Each knew his right and left hand man,
And eke his officer could scan.
As Nestor said, each hang-dog went
To his own ragged regiment.
Minerva too was got among 'em,
Though she of right did not belong 'em;
Her brawny arm a potlid shak'd,
As bright as blacking-balls could make't,
On which there hung an ugly head,
So grim, 'twould strike the train-bands dead:
With this, and other little helps,
She cheers the poor faint-hearted whelps.
 
 
For wives they now no longer sob,
But swear to die or do the job.
As when a bonfire, with a noise,
Is kindled by the parish-boys,
It catches first the straw, then rushes.
And seizes on the dry furze-bushes,
Which causes such a dev'lish glaring,
That half the fools i' th' town stand staring:
Just so you spy'd reflected streaks
From greasy doublets of the Greeks;
For noise, you'd swear these sons of Greece
Were nought but flocks of Solan geese,
Who gabble rarely in their flight,
But ten times louder when they 'light:
Thus in a noisy crowd they wander,
Before they reach the fam'd Scamander;
And as they hasten to the shore,
They make the very welkin roar.
Thick as the crowds that walk the Strand,
Upon the river's bank they stand;
Or thick as leaves that yearly fall,
By pecks and bushels in the Mall;
Or swarms of flies, that find a crop
Of sugar in a grocer's shop;
So throng'd the varlets stand, and vow
They'll beat the Trojans black and blue.
About each trusty serjeant goes,
And sets them all in proper rows,
As easily as Rachael Sparrow
Places the apples in her barrow,
Where (though at first no form they keep)
She quickly makes a curious heap.
Above the rest the king appears,
And tops 'em all by th' head and ears:
He look'd, amidst this set of warriors,
Like a great hound amongst the tarriers.
For breadth of chest, as well as back,
He beat the mighty bruiser, Slack;
But in his strut and martial air
He seem'd a first-rate grenadier.
This day Jove order'd he should pass
To view, much bigger than he was:
And as he knew the head o' th' cull
With brains was not a quarter full,
He clapp'd a candle in his skull,
Which shining briskly through his eyes,
Fill'd all the Grecians with surprise;
For Jove, you need not fear, took care,
At proper times, to make folks stare.
As for these various ragged packs
Of rogues, from different wapentakes,
Their Christian names I've many times
Labour'd to jumble into rhymes;
But could not do it for my soul,
So leave them to the muster-roll.
If any critic choose to pop
His head into my printer's shop,
He'll find a copy there, not spurious,
Left for th' inspection of the curious.