The paradice of pleasure, or, An encomium upon Darby-ale in answer to a scurrilous lampoon call'd Scott's paradice, or, A satyr against Darby-ale. Ward, Edward, 1667-1731. 1700 Approx. 17 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 8 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-07 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A55735 Wing P329 ESTC R31750 12252299 ocm 12252299 57166 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A55735) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 57166) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1510:6) The paradice of pleasure, or, An encomium upon Darby-ale in answer to a scurrilous lampoon call'd Scott's paradice, or, A satyr against Darby-ale. Ward, Edward, 1667-1731. [4], 11 p. Printed for A. Baldwin ..., London : 1700. Attributed to Ward by NUC pre-1956 imprints. In verse. Imperfect: pages stained and torn, with print showthrough and loss of print. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng 2003-02 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-03 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-04 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2003-04 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-06 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion THE PARADICE OF PLEASURE : OR , AN ENCOMIUM UPON DARBY-ALE . In ANSWER to a Scurrilous Lampoon , call'd , Sott's Paradice ; Or , A Satyr against Darby-Ale . — Cum vini vis penitravit , Consequitur gravitas Membrorum , Praepediuntur Crura vacillanti , Tardescit Lingua , madet Mens , Nant Oculi ; Clamor , singultus , Iurgia Gliscunt . Lucretius . LONDON , Printed for A. Baldwin , at the Oxford-Arms , in Warwick-Lane . 1700. To all the Lovers of DARBY-ALE . GENTLEMEN , I Have often wonder'd , That we , who are profess'd Lovers of this Liquor , should not have among us one Generous Son of Apollo that dare draw his Pen in the defence of our Cause ; I am sure the universal Contagion of Dulness has not so overspread us , but we have Poetick Forces enough to answer any of our Opposers ; yet were it otherwise , that a Barrenness of Fancy had possess'd us , the Subject it self would ( like the Ovidian Deo Agitante ) point us out the Road to Parnassus . Of Darby-Ale I own I 'm a passionate Admirer , and no fond Amorist was ever more captivated with the Charms of his Mistress , than I with the Charms of its Brightness : Where there is Love , there is Admiration ; and where Admiration , Respect : and from hence proceeds my Regret to have Odiums cast upon the Object of my Wishes : when the sawcy I Lampoon , called , Sot's Paradice , at every Bookseller's star'd me in the face ; I 've been possess'd with Fury almost to Distraction ; a long time I have fed my self with hopes of Revenge , that some new Champion would enter the Lists and foil the Pigmie Satyrist : Hitherto I have found my Expectation balk'd ; but rather than our Divertive Clubbs , and Inspiring Liquor should suffer the stains and aspersions they now lie under , I chose to undertake the Combat my self , in hopes to put a stop to the growing Tyranny of Re-printing Sot's Paradice . This is the sole Reason that I have attempted An Encomium ; and if my Poem has diminish'd the intrinsick Worth and Delight that our Liquor deserves , impute it rather to my unskilfulness in Fancy and Numbers , than the weakness of the Cause . Gallant Souls are prov'd by their actions , and those actions are more conspicuous and noble which proceed purely from Loyalty and Resolution : I have serv'd several Campaigns under Darby-Ale , with success , and it would be very ungenerous ( in this time of danger ) to desert my Standard ; had it no secret Spell to engage me in its Service , I should not ( like Mr. W — d ) basely turn Traytor and Runagado from that which had done me such eminent Service ; for , let him pursue its Ruin with the utmost rack of Thought and Invention , and pretend what aversion he pleases , he ow's his Trip to Jamaica , and some other of his best Compositions , to its Assistance . Now , Gentlemen , since we have Enemies ( and those too so potent ) I hope you will not leave me to stand the shock of their Rage . I shall know your intentions by your favourable acceptance of this Piece ; but , be it how it will ( as Epaminondas said to his Buckler , so say I to my Liquor ) Me Defendas , & Ego te Defendam , I have no more to add , but hope when this comes to your Hands , you will drink the Health of Your Humble Servant , Philo-Darby . AN ENCOMIUM UPON DARBY-ALE . LET other Bards the help of Phaebus ask , When they assume some high Poetick task ; I crave no Aid , nor will invoke his Fire , 'T is Darby-Ale alone shall me Inspire ; My Pen engag'd on its transporting Theme , I beg no other Hellyconian Stream ; A Dose of this transcends that Fictious Name . Nought else my daring Muses Flight shall raise , Then quaff her Liquor whilst I sing its praise ; And if she sicken in this noble Race , Reviving Cups shall cheer her drooping Pace . Methinks I feel her struggling in my Breast , Like Delphick Priests , with Oracles oppress'd , To give her vent's to calm her into Rest. Dictate great Soul of Mirth , thou Darby-Ale , For thou can'st best thy hidden Charms Reveal ; When sluggish Years have drain'd our Strength away , Thou giv'st new Fires to old Promethean Clay : Thy sacred Juice does break old Age's Chains , And make new Blood , come Dancing through the Veins ; Eighty Reverse into his Twenty's Prime , And dost unbarr the Iron Gates of Time : Had that sage Sorceress known thee heretofore , When drooping AEson's Life she did restore , With this Elixir , he had dy'd no more . In vain let Chymists their dark Arts Exalt , They 're all Chimaera's to the Darby-Malt ; For that alone which from thy Grain Distils , We find to be the Lethe of our Ills. Let Alchymists some curs'd Mishap bemoan ; And waste their Substance for a Fictious Stone , When its possession lies in thee alone : In this rich Juice , colour and taste unite , To charm the Sence , and please the Appetite ; The Glasses Grown'd , 't is Rapture to behold The lively Attome , Dance in Liquid Gold. In dusky AEgypt , where no Worship Reigns , but what the Error of their Fancy frames ; Did they to this bright Liquor bend their Knee , There were pretence for their Idolatry : Had Epicurus , when he Bliss defin'd , But tasted thee , thou 'dst Extafied his Mind , To thee alone he 'd Happiness confin'd . When Clouds of Grief hang hov'ring round the Soul , Those Foggs are scatter'd by a Lucid Bowl ; Harrast with Care , with Troubles when oppres'd , It quells the raging Passions of our Breast ; The Wealthy Merchant's Loss it does Restore , His Ills are lull'd , and he Repines no more : Wrecks nor Misfortunes can his Rest destroy , He drowns his Losses in a Flood of Joy. The Brawny Priest , who Scripture has perplex'd , For Darby-Ale , forsakes his Pray'rs and Text ; Warm'd with some healing Quarte , he talks more Sense Than from his Pulpit e'er he did dispence . Each sparkling Glass does sparkling Wit excite , And makes the Poet , in a Rapture write : If the transporting thoughts , that charm the Mind , Are only Pellets of the Blood Refin'd , To this rich Juice , we should our homage pay , That does the Spirits to the Brain convey . Let other Coxcombs to their Bags be Slaves , And , as they purchase Wealth , be prick'd for Knaves , Grant me of this transparent Liquor store , I 'll thank the Gods , and ask 'em for no more : On some tall Butt ( with more triumphant Pride ) With Glasses Crown'd , I 'de rather sit astride , Than the vast Ocean's Admiral to Ride ; Cou'd I like Midas in my wish avail , I 'de Metamorphize all to Darby-Ale ; The Silver Thames shou'd change its Christal hue , And Ships shou'd in that noblest Liquor Plow ; Or cou'd I higher but the grant obtain , The Fleecy Clouds shou'd sparkling Darby Rain . Blest be the Soul who this great Art first sound , In high Elogius may his Name be Crown'd , Inscrib'd on Parian Marble , let it shine , Myriads of Years , in spice of mould'ring Time. When Wine bore sway , the Nation 's greatest Curse , This Art appear'd , and stem'd its Conquering Course ; For when to this great Project he gave Birth , He taught at once , Frugality and Mirth ; When costly Wines ( it cannot be deny'd ) Had almost Bankrupt Cornhill and Cheapside . Bandy and Annice , with that fatal train , Destroy the Land , and ought no longer Reign ; They Fire the Brain , and all the Vitals Burn , And , into Embers , do the Entrails turn ; Perpetual Burnings prey upon the Heart , And we possess hot AEtna's in each part ; For Sots alone such burning Cups are fit , Not for the gen'rous Souls of Mirth and Wit , But Stroling Carmen , or the plodding Fool , That take delight in being Drunk and Dull . Iove as he lately in the Divan Sate , Musing how Mortals posted to their Fate , Order'd some Gods the Matter to Debate : From the Illustrious House ; they strait withdrew , Apollo , Regnant of the Sacred Crew : The Matter weigh'd , that Peer of Heaven's High Court , From the Committee , Thus made his Report ; Wonder not , Ruler of the spang'led Sky , That Souls throng Styx , and to Olympus Fly , When Wine , the Brittish Nation 's chiefest good , Is turn'd distemper'd , and corrupts the Blood ; Ty'd to a Chain of Plagues , poor Mortals groan Under Consumptions , Tysicks , and the Stone ; Tyr'd with Diseases , they their Lives resign , And owe their Deaths to noxious Fumes of Wine : Others by Dropsies to a Bulk are blown , Resembling those , who wou'd have Storm'd thy Throne : This is the Grand Result of our Debate , They 'll faster dye , if Wine not Abdicate ; Let Bacchus tear the Grapes from off his Brow ; and mission him to 's Bacchanals below ; With no full Bowls of Wine let him appear , But Darby-Ale , Transparent , Lucid , Clear ; Tell 'em the Gods to Pity are inclin'd , And sent this Cordial , to Revive Mankind , Who other Liquor Drinks , breaks the Decree , Pass'd by this House , and Ratify'd by Thee ; As quick Infection , order they decline That Door they see encircl'd with a Vine ; If this , by Bacchus , with all speed be done , Mortals a longer Race of Years shall Run : Thus Ceas'd great Phaebus , and all prais'd the God , And mighty Iove gave his assenting Nod. From this Decree great London is grown wise , Claret's condemn'd , and Darby-Ale we prize ; Each separate Street in different Signs do show , That happy Nectar is contain'd below : But — As Planets borrow from the Orb of Light , So other Darby-Houses may shine Bright , By the Reflexion of Thy Sun , Great White : Such plenteous Stores do guild thy Sun with Beams , Thine is the Fountain , their 's the lesser Streams . 'T is Extasie to see thy Cellar grac'd With well pil'd Butts , in noble order plac'd ; Such high carv'd Hogsheads all around we see , That sure on Earth thou' rt Bacchus Deputy ; Thy Trade's no wonder , where shou'd Crowds resort , But where the God of Drinking keeps his Court ? As far as English Banners are display'd , Thy Name 's Ador'd , and potent Ale convey'd ; Not to our Isle alone , thy Fame is known , But where the Winds do Course , or Ships are Blown ; The rough unpollish'd Indian-Planters own More Influence from Thy Sun , than from their own ; Thy Butts Unlading , they Rejoyce and Smile , Blessing the bounteous product of our Isle ; Thy Liquid Cargo does contain such Joys , That they their Gold and Country's growth despise , And for it Barter costly Gems as Toys . As long as this Rich Juice distill'd shall be , Thy Name 's consign'd to all Posterity . The next to thee , Watt's Renown soars high , Whose Stock Inferiour Houses does supply ; Each Rank , each Order , daily grace his House , And at throng'd Tables roundly do Carouse ; From his great Room vast flakes of Smoak arise , And Pipes , like Stars , do shine in gloomy Skies ; In chatting Clubs your Polititians sit , And as they Drink ; they more refine their Wit : The Harrast Warriour there forgets his Toyls , In plund'ring Pints he finds more glorious Spoils . Uxorious Cit , whose greatest Plague's a Wife , Forgets his ills , and drowns Domestick Strife : To thee he comes to meliorate his Pains , His Cares are hush'd , and lively Pleasure Reigns . To Iackson's Mansion there 's some Honour due , Whose Complaisance attracts a generous Crew ; Each rowling Night his Rooms to Wit give Birth , His House the Body Politick of Mirth . Antaeus seated at one Board we see , Flush'd with the Juice ( from all Example free ) And setting up for Popularity ; When num'rous Cups have wrought upon his Brain , His Sence he by his Courage does maintain : Antaeus like , he 'd Hercules Assail , Nor can the Liquor o'er his Strength prevail , But from each blow that Hercules does make , Touching the Cup , he does fresh vigour take . When Pints Replete , do Malpas Spirits raise , He tunes his Viol to harmonious Lays ; His chanting sounds do on my Sences rowl , Dissolve my Frame , and wanton in my Soul : Had Orpheus known to strike his Lire so well , He 'd brought his Wife a second time from Hell. When healing Draughts Lycurgus Blood do warm , His Thoughts surprize us , and his Words do charm ; In pointed Satyr , wisely he displays The Senceless Coxcomb , and the Fool Pourtrays ; And there le ts fall as much Extemp're Wit As in some Plays of two Years growth is Writ . The Artful Albus hither does repair , Whose Carriage is Genteely Debonair ; To fleeting Time his Works shall wing his Fame , When Dykes shall Dye , and Titian want a Name . No Satyr center'd in Cratena's Face , His Eyes dart Love , and Smiles his Brows do grace ; With Pint and Pipe sagiciously he 'll sit Remarking those that do engender Wit ; To ev'ry Query makes his pat Replys , And when the Clock strikes Ten , he pays , and flys . Honesto here his transient hours beguiles With serious Glasses , recreates his Toils , He Drinks and Talks , and as he Smoaks , he Smiles . Decrepid Gulpo , of the Hobbian Race , Who owns no God , and Scripture does deface ; His Worship lies lock'd up in Error 's Vail , And if he Bows to ought , — 't is Darby-Ale . Melinthus ( inoffensive in his way ) Sits list'ning , pleas'd with what the Wits do say ; Silent and unconcern'd he takes their hints , And adds the Pleasure to succeeding Pints . With rueful Phiz , Cornutus takes his place , His Brows are branch'd , and Care o'erwelms his Face , Till Iackson's Ale his sinking Spirit buoys , More than the Common's Court , or Proctor's noise ; With many more , too tedious to rehearse , Beneath a Rhime or dignity of Verse . To Fullwood's-Rents my Muse might take her flight ; To praise those blissful Cellars of Delight ; But Grays-Inn Sparks can best defend the Cause , And prove this Ale the Key to all the Laws . Curse on the Scribler who with dearth of Sence , Dares to prophane its Soveraign Excellence ; May he capacious Hogsheads round him spy , Like Tantalus , in Plenty still be Dry ; And from his Thirst such Torture may he feel , Worse Racks than e'er Ixion from his Wheel , Let strange Chimera's dance before his Sight , And shock his trembling Sences all the Night ; Obsequious Catchpoles wait him as he Rise , And be upon his haunts the London Spies ; Till he be left both Penyless and Poor , To drag a hated Life from Door and Door : And and may his Doggrel Muse ne'er meet Success , But damn'd to keep Employ'd some Grubstreet Press . FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A55735-e500 The Sign of the Sun in Golden-Lane . In St. James's - Market . In Hidestreet , Bloomsbury .