THE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN: PART 1 by DANIEL DEFOE

WHereever God erects a House of Prayer,
The Devil always builds a Chappel there:
And 'twill be found upon Examination,
The latter has the largest Congregation:
For ever since he first debauch'd the Mind,
He made a perfect Conquest of Mankind.
With Uniformity of Service, he
Reigns with a general Aristocracy.
No Nonconforming Sects disturb his Reign,
@3For of his Yoak there's very few complain@1.
He knows the Genius and the Inclination,
And matches proper Sins for ev'ry Nation.
He needs no Standing-Army Government;
@3He always rules us by our own Consent:@1
His Laws are easy, and his gentle Sway
Makes it exceeding pleasant to obey.
The List of his Vicegerents and Commanders,
Outdoes your @3Caesars@1, or your @3Alexanders@1.
They never fail of his Infernal Aid,
And he's as certain ne're to be betray'd.
Through all the World they spread his vast Command,
And Death's Eternal Empire's maintain'd.
They rule so politickly and so well,
As if they were L. . . . J. . . . . . . of Hell.
Duly divided to debauch Mankind,
And plant Infernal Dictates in his Mind.

@3Pride@1, the First Peer, and President of Hell,
To his share @3Spain@1, the largest Province, fell.
The subtile Prince thought fittest to bestow
On these the Golden Mines of @3Mexico@1;
With all the Silver Mountains of @3Peru;
Wealth which would in wise hands the World undo:@1
Because he knew their Genius was such;
Too Lazy and too Haughty to be Rich.

So proud a People, so above their Fate,
That if reduc'd to beg, they'll beg in State.
Lavish of Money, to be counted Brave,
And Proudly starve, because they scorn to save.
Never was Nation in the World before,
So very Rich, and yet so very Poor.

@3Lust@1 chose the Torrid Zone of @3Italy@1,
Where Blood ferments in Rapes and Sodomy:
Where swelling Veins o'reflow with living Streams,
With Heat impregnate from @3Vesuvian@1 Flames:
Whose flowing Sulphur forms Infernal Lakes,
And human Body of the Soil partakes.
There Nature ever burns with hot Desires,
Fann'd with Luxuriant Air from Subterranean Fires:
Here undisturb'd in Floods of scalding Lust,
Th' Infernal King reigns with Infernal Gust.

@3Drunk'ness@1, the Darling Favourite of Hell,
Chose @3Germany@1 to rule; and rules so well,
No Subjects more obsequiously obey,
None please so well, or are so pleas'd as they.
The cunning Artist manages so well,
He lets them Bow to Heav'n, and Drink to Hell.
If but to Wine and him they Homage pay,
He cares not to what Deity they Pray,
What God they worship most, or in what way.
Whether by @3Luther, Calvin@1, or by @3Rome@1,
They sail for Heav'n, by Wine he steers them home.

Ungovern'd Passion settled first in @3France@1,
Where Mankind lives in haste, and thrives by Chance.
A @3Dancing Nation@1, Fickle and Untrue:
Have oft undone themselves, and others too:
Prompt the Infernal Dictates to obey,
And in Hell's Favour none more great than they.

The @3Pagan@1 World he blindly leads away,
And Personally rules with Arbitrary Sway:
The Mask thrown off, @3Plain Devil@1 his Title stands;
@3And what elsewhere he Tempts, he there Commands@1.
There with full Gust th' Ambition of his Mind
Governs, as he of old in Heav'n design'd.
Worshipp'd as God, his @3Painim Altars@1 smoke,
Embru'd with Blood of those that him Invoke.

The rest by Deputies he rules as well,
And plants the distant Colonies of Hell.
By them his secret Power he maintains,
@3And binds the World in his Infernal Chains@1.

By Zeal the @3Irish@1; and the @3Rush@1 by Folly:
Fury the @3Dane@1: The @3Swede@1 by Melancholly:
By stupid Ignorance, the @3Muscovite@1:
The @3Chinese@1 by a @3Child of Hell@1, call'd Wit:
Wealth makes the @3Persian@1 too Effeminate:
And Poverty the @3Tartars@1 Desperate:
The @3Turks@1 and @3Moors@1 by @3Mah'met@1 he subdues:
@3And God has giv'n him leave to rule the@1 Jews:
Rage rules the @3Portuguese@1; and Fraud the @3Scotch@1:
Revenge the @3Pole@1; and Avarice the @3Dutch@1.

@3Satyr@1 be kind, and draw a silent Veil,
Thy @3Native England's@1 Vices to conceal:
Or if that Task's impossible to do,
At least be just, and show her Virtues too;
@3Too Great the first, Alas! the last too Few@1.

@3England@1 unknown as yet, unpeopled lay;
Happy, had she remain'd so to this day,
And not to ev'ry Nation been a Prey.
Her Open Harbours, and her Fertile Plains,
The Merchants Glory these, and those the Swains,
To ev'ry Barbarous Nation have betray'd her,
Who conquer her as oft as they Invade her.
@3So Beauty guarded but by Innocence,
That ruins her which should be her Defence.@1

@3Ingratitude@1, a Devil of @3Black Renown@1,
Possess'd her very early for his own.
An Ugly, Surly, Sullen, Selfish Spirit,
@3Who Satan's worst Perfections does inherit:@1
Second to him in Malice and in Force,
All @3Devil without@1, and all within him @3Worse@1.

@3He@1 made her First-born Race to be so rude,
And suffer'd her to be so oft subdu'd:
By sev'ral Crowds of Wandring Thieves o're-run,
Often unpeopl'd, and as oft undone.
While ev'ry Nation that her Pow'rs reduc'd,
Their Languages and Manners introduc'd.
From whose mixt Relicks our compounded Breed,
By Spurious Generation does succeed;
Making a Race uncertain and unev'n,
Deriv'd from all the Nations under Heav'n.

The @3Romans@1 first with @3Julius Caesar@1 came,
Including all the Nations of that Name,
@3Gauls, Greeks@1, and @3Lombards@1; and by Computation,
Auxiliaries or Slaves of ev'ry Nation.
With @3Hengist, Saxons; Danes@1 with @3Sueno@1 came,
In search of Plunder, not in search of Fame.
@3Scots, Picts@1, and @3Irish@1 from th' @3Hibernian@1 Shore:
And Conqu'ring @3William@1 brought the @3Normans@1 o're.

All these their Barb'rous Offspring left behind,
The Dregs of Armies, they of all Mankind;
Blended with @3Britains@1 who before were here,
Of whom the @3Welsh@1 ha' blest the Character.

From this Amphibious Ill-born Mob began
@3That vain ill-natur'd thing, an@1 Englishman.
The Customs, Sirnames, Languages, and Manners,
Of all these Nations are their own Explainers:
Whose Relicks are so lasting and so strong,
They ha' left a @3Shiboleth@1 upon our Tongue;
By which with easy search you may distinguish
Your @3Roman-Saxon-Danish-Norman@1 English.

The great Invading @3Norman@1 let us know
What Conquerors in After-Times might do.
To ev'ry @3Musqueteer@1 he brought to Town,
He gave the Lands which never were his own.
When first the @3English@1 Crown he did obtain,
He did not send his @3Dutchmen@1 home again.
No Reassumptions in his Reign were known,
@3D'avenant@1 might there ha' let his Book alone.
No Parliament his Army cou'd disband;
@3He rais'd no Money, for he paid in Land@1.
He gave his Legions their Eternal Station,
And made them all Freeholders of the Nation.
He canton'd out the Country to his Men,
And ev'ry Soldier was a Denizen.
The Rascals thus enrich'd, he call'd them @3Lords@1,
To please their Upstart Pride with new-made Words;
And @3Doomsday-Book@1 his Tyranny records.

And here begins the Ancient Pedigree
That so exalts our Poor Nobility:
'Tis that from some @3French@1 Trooper they derive,
Who with the @3Norman@1 Bastard did arrive:
The Trophies of the Families appear;
Some show the Sword, the Bow, and some the Spear,
Which their Great Ancestor, @3forsooth@1, did wear.
These in the Heralds Register remain,
Their Noble Mean Extraction to explain.
Yet who the Hero was, no man can tell,
Whether a Drummer or a Colonel:
The silent Record blushes to reveal
Their Undescended Dark Original.

But grant the best, How came the Change to pass;
A @3True-Born Englishman@1 of @3Norman@1 Race?
A @3Turkish@1 Horse can show more History,
To prove his Well-descended Family.
@3Conquest@1, as by the Moderns 'tis exprest,
May give a Title to the Lands possest:
But that the Longest Sword shou'd be so Civil,
To make a @3Frenchman English@1, that's the Devil.

These are the Heroes that despise the @3Dutch@1,
And rail at new-come Foreigners so much;
Forgetting that themselves are all deriv'd
From the most Scoundrel Race that ever liv'd.
A horrid Medly of Thieves and Drones,
Who ransack'd Kingdoms, and dispeopl'd Towns.
The @3Pict@1 and Painted @3Britain@1, Treach'rous @3Scot@1,
By Hunger, Theft, and Rapine, hither brought.
@3Norwegian@1 Pirates, Buccaneering @3Danes@1,
Whose Red-hair'd Offspring ev'ry where remains.
Who join'd with @3Norman-French@1, compound the Breed
From whence your @3True-Born Englishmen@1 proceed.

And lest by Length of Time it be pretended,
The Climate may this Modern Breed ha' mended,
Wise Providence, to keep us where we are,
Mixes us daily with exceeding Care:
We have been @3Europe's@1 Sink, @3the Jakes@1 where she
Voids all her Offal Out-cast Progeny.
From our Fifth @3Henry@1's time, the Strolling Bands
Of banish'd Fugitives from Neighb'ring Lands,
Have here a certain Sanctuary found:
@3The Eternal Refuge of the Vagabond@1.
Where in but half a common Age of Time,
Borr'wing new Blood and Manners from the Clime,
Proudly they learn all Mankind to contemn,
And all their Race are @3True-Born Englishmen@1.

@3Dutch, Walloons, Flemings, Irishmen@1, and @3Scots,
Vaudois@1 and @3Valtolins@1, and @3Hugonots@1,
In good Queen @3Bess@1's Charitable Reign,
Suppli'd us with Three hundred thousand Men.
Religion, @3God we thank thee@1, sent them hither,
Priests, Protestants, the Devil and all together:
Of all Professions, and of ev'ry Trade,
All that were persecuted or afraid;
Whether for Debt or other Crimes they fled,
@3David@1 at @3Hackelah@1 was still their Head.

The Offspring of this Miscellaneous Crowd,
Had not their new Plantations long enjoy'd,
But they grew @3Englishmen@1, and rais'd their Votes
At Foreign Shoals of @3Interloping Scots@1.
The Royal Branch from @3Pict-land@1 did succeed,
With Troops of @3Scots@1 and Scabs from @3North-by-Tweed@1.
The Seven first years of his Pacifick Reign,
Made him and half his Nation @3Englishmen@1.
@3Scots@1 from the @3Northern@1 Frozen Banks of @3Tay@1,
With Packs and Plods came @3Whigging@1 all away:
Thick as the Locusts which in @3Egypt@1 swarm'd,
With Pride and hungry Hopes compleatly arm'd:
With Native Truth, Diseases, and No Money,
Plunder'd our @3Canaan@1 of the Milk and Honey.
Here they grew quickly Lords and Gentlemen,
And all their Race are @3True-Born Englishmen@1.

The Civil Wars, the common Purgative,
Which always use to make the Nation thrive,
Made way for all that strolling Congregation,
Which throng'd in Pious @3Ch . . . . s@1's Restoration.
The @3Royal Refugee@1 our Breed restores,
With @3Foreign Courtiers@1, and with @3Foreign Whores@1:
And carefully repeopled us again,
Throughout his Lazy, Long, Lascivious Reign,
With such a blest and True-born @3English@1 Fry,
As much Illustrates our Nobility.
A Gratitude which will so black appear,
As future Ages must abhor to hear:
When they look back on all that Crimson Flood,
Which stream'd in @3Lindsey@1's, and @3Caernarvon@1's Blood:
Bold @3Strafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Lisle@1,
Who crown'd in Death his Father's Fun'ral Pile.
The Loss of whom, in order to supply
With True-Born @3English@1 Nobility,
Six Bastard Dukes survive his Luscious Reign,
The Labours of @3Italian C . . . . . . . . n,
French P . . . . . . . h, Tabby S . . . t@1, and @3Cambrian@1.
Besides the Num'rous Bright and Virgin Throng,
Whose Female Glories shade them from my Song.

This Offspring, if one Age they multiply,
May half the House with @3English@1 Peers supply:
There with true @3English@1 Pride they may contemn
@3S . . . . . . . g@1 and @3P . . . . . . d@1, new-made Noblemen.

@3French@1 Cooks, @3Scotch@1 Pedlars, and @3Italian@1 Whores,
Were all made Lords, or Lords Progenitors.
Beggars and Bastards by his new Creation,
Much multipli'd the Peerage of the Nation;
Who will be all, e're one short Age runs o're,
As True-Born Lords as those we had before.

Then to recruit the Commons he prepares,
And heal the latent Breaches of the Wars:
The Pious Purpose better to advance,
H' invites the banish'd Protestants of @3France@1:
Hither for God's sake and their own they fled,
Some for Religion came, and some for Bread:
Two hundred thousand Pair of Wooden Shooes,
Who, God be thank'd, had nothing left to lose;
To Heav'n's great Praise did for Religion fly,
To make us starve our Poor in Charity.
In ev'ry Port they plant their fruitful Train,
To get a Race of @3True-Born Englishmen@1:
Whose Children will, when riper Years they see,
Be as Ill-natur'd and as Proud as we:
Call themselves @3English@1, Foreigners despise,
Be surly like us all, and just as wise.

Thus from a Mixture of all kinds began,
That Het'rogeneous Thing, @3An Englishman@1:
In eager Rapes, and furious Lust begot,
Betwixt a Painted @3Britton@1 and a @3Scot@1:
Whose gend'ring Offspring quickly learnt to bow,
And yoke their Heifers to the @3Roman@1 Plough:
From whence a Mongrel half-bred Race there came,
With neither Name nor Nation, Speech or Fame.
In whose hot Veins new Mixtures quickly ran,
Infus'd betwixt a @3Saxon@1 and a @3Dane@1.
While their Rank Daughters, to their Parents just,
Receiv'd all Nations with Promiscuous Lust.
This Nauseous Brood directly did contain
The well-extracted Blood of @3Englishmen@1.

Which Medly canton'd in a Heptarchy,
A Rhapsody of Nations to supply,
Among themselves maintain'd eternal Wars,
And still the Ladies lov'd the Conquerors.

The @3Western@1 Angles all the rest subdu'd;
A bloody Nation, barbarous and rude:
Who by the Tenure of the Sword possest
One part of @3Britain@1, and subdu'd the rest.
And as great things denominate the small,
The Conqu'ring Part gave Title to the Whole.
The @3Scot, Pict, Britain, Roman, Dane@1 submit,
And with the @3English-Saxon@1 all unite:
And these the Mixture have so close pursu'd,
The very Name and Memory's subdu'd:
No @3Roman@1 now, no @3Britain@1 does remain;
@3Wales@1 strove to separate, but strove in vain:
The silent Nations undistinguish'd fall,
And @3Englishman@1's the common Name for all.
Fate jumbl'd them together, @3God knows how@1;
Whate're they were, they're @3True-Born English@1 now.

The Wonder which remains is at our Pride,
To value that which all wise men deride.
For @3Englishmen@1 to boast of Generation,
Cancels their Knowledge, and lampoons the Nation.
A @3True-Born Englishman@1's a Contradiction,
In Speech an Irony, in Fact a Fiction.
A Banter made to be a Test of Fools,
Which those that use it justly ridicules.
A Metaphor invented to express
A man @3a-kin@1 to all the Universe.

For as the @3Scots@1, as Learned Men ha' said,
Throughout the World their Wandring Seed ha' spread;
So open-handed @3England@1, 'tis believ'd,
Has all the Gleanings of the World receiv'd.

Some think of @3England@1 'twas our Saviour meant,
The Gospel should to all the World be sent:
Since when the blessed Sound did hither reach,
They to all Nations might be said to Preach.

'Tis well that Virtue gives Nobility,
Else God knows where we had our Gentry;
Since scarce one Family is left alive,
Which does not from some Foreigner derive.
Of Sixty thousand @3English@1 Gentlemen,
Whose Names and Arms in Registers remain,
We challenge all our Heralds to declare
Ten Families which @3English-Saxons@1 are.

@3France@1 justly boasts the Ancient Noble Line
Of @3Bourbon, Mommorency@1, and @3Lorrain@1.
The @3Germans@1 too their House of @3Austria@1 show,
And @3Holland@1 their Invincible @3Nassau@1.
Lines which in Heraldry were Ancient grown,
Before the Name of @3Englishman@1 was known.
Even @3Scotland@1 too her Elder Glory shows,
Her @3Gourdons, Hamiltons@1, and her @3Monroes;
Dowglas, Mackays@1, and @3Grahams@1, Names well known,
Long before Ancient @3England@1 knew her own.

But @3England@1, Modern to the last degree,
Borrows or makes her own Nobility,
And yet she boldly boasts of Pedigree:
Repines that Foreigners are put upon her,
And talks of her Antiquity and Honour:
Her @3S . . . . lls, S . . . ls, C . . . ls, De . . . . M . . rs,
M . . . ns@1 and @3M . . . . . . ues, D . . . s@1 and @3V . . . rs@1,
Not one have @3English@1 Names, yet all are @3English@1 Peers.
Your @3H . . . . . ns, P . . . llons@1, and @3L . . . . liers@1,
Pass now for True-Born @3English@1 Knights and Squires,
And make good Senate-Members, or Lord-Mayors.
Wealth, howsoever got, in @3England@1 makes
Lords of Mechanicks, Gentlemen of Rakes.
Antiquity and Birth are needless here;
'Tis Impudence and Money makes a P . . . r.

Innumerable City-Knights we know,
From @3Blewcoat Hospitals@1 and @3Bridewell@1 flow.
Draymen and Porters fill the City Chair,
And Footboys Magisterial Purple wear.
Fate has but very small Distinction set
Betwixt the @3Counter@1 and the Coronet.
Tarpaulin Lords, Pages of high Renown,
Rise up by Poor Mens Valour, not their own.
Great Families of yesterday we show,
And Lords, whose Parents were @3the Lord knows who@1.

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