A Search After Honesty - A Poem
The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A63972.0001.001
Project Note
This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.
The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.
This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.
Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.
However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.
This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.
Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
A SEARCH AFTER HONESTY. A POEM. By Mr. TUTCHIN.
LONDON, Printed for the Author. 1697.
To His FRIEND Mr. J. T. on the Following POEM.
PRithee, Old Friend, Shall I make bold to Ask,
What
Angry Stars
have doomed Thee to this Task?
What Powers Sway'd thy
Fancy?
What thy
Mind?
To Seek a Thing, so
Plaguy hard to Find.
First try thy Fate, see how such Projects hit;
Find out something that's Parallel to it.
Find out a
CITY
destitute of Vice;
Find out that Spot, called, The Old
Paradise
:
Find a
French Courtier
without Genteel Lyes,
Or any
English
one that Gold denies.
Find out a
Beauty,
and no
Pride
Lodg'd there;
An
Honest Thief,
and Gen'rous
Usurer
;
Find out the
Unicorn,
and
Phoenix
too,
And from what Cause in Nature they first grew:
When these are found, then we perhaps may see
Some dark blind steps of
Light-Heel'd-Honesty.
I once was Led, by Curious Thoughts, to know,
On what Strange Soil this
Honesty
did grow:
But those I Askt for it, returned me No.
I from the
Lawyer
first, Direction sought,
And beg'd his Aid to this my New-born Thought.
Tush, Tush, quoth he, Our Trade is to Adjust
Nice Points of Law, and Doubtfull-Deeds of Trust,
By which we make Men Poor, but seldom Just.
The
Doctor
felt my
Pulse,
quoth he, Thou'rt
Mad
;
Go
Bleed,
use
Hellebore,
and Shave thy
Head.
Then to a
Priest
I went, and told my Want;
Who Fairly Answer'd, He knew nothing on it.
Nay then (quoth I) if this is owned by All,
I will Use it Sparingly, or not at All:
I will
Talk
on it too, like others, without Ground;
The
Crowd
they'll
Stare, Believe,
and soit goes round.
What is this thing, that Men so Lamely Know?
This Honesty?
so much Pretended to.
It is nothing. Or, What's next toit, but a
Toy?
Oft-times a Shooing-horn for
Knavery:
'It is
Faith's
next Heir, a
Jewel,
if you knew it;
Ingrost by all, though very few dare show it.
'It is like the
Solvent, Chymist's
talk so on;
A sort of
Witch-craft,
more Believ'd then
Known:
'It is like the
Flame
that doth so fine appear,
But Burns the Skin of him that comes too near:
'It is vainly Call'd, what vauntingly we boast;
Talkit by the Wise, Believ'd to Weak Men's
Cost:
'It is like the
Maiden-head
weak Men Adore;
Ne'r
Found
when
Lost,
nor never seen
before.
This Truth all know; and some Men to their Sorrow:
One's
Honest
now, perhaps a
Knave
to Morrow.
Then what's the
Honesty
in Common Vogue?
When he that hath it, Proves next Day a
ROGUE.
Were it as Plenty as 'tis said to be,
More
Honest Deeds,
and fewer
Knaves
you would see.
'It is
Craft
and
Skill,
not
Justice,
makes the
Knave
;
Who, to Enrich his
Heir,
himself's a
Slave.
To Swell th' Estate,
Crowds
in a
Crime
or Two;
So gains his Point, 'tis no great matter
How.
So
Heirs
are Curst:
Estates
too, now and then;
And this too done by them, Call'd,
Honest Men.
Well,
Friend,
Go on, in this Design Abide,
And th' Great Being be thy
Sacred Guide.
'It is Brave and Gen'rous: Nay, a Noble Strain,
To seek for that, which few Men wish to gain:
'It is a Design of such Descent and Birth,
That proves 'twas Born
Above,
not here on
Earth.
As a Reward, may thou its Birth-place View,
As a
Possessor,
not as
Pilgrims
Do
Let us be
Honest
: Vs, that
Shrine Adore
;
A Blessing still Attends it, though we are
Poor.
J. P.
A SEARCH After Honesty.
IN Silent Shades, upon the Banks of
Thames,
A Pensive Bard sat viewing of the Streams;
He thought, retiring, to have found Reliefe,
But Shades and Darksome Scenes augment our Griefe:
Long he his Country and her Fate did Mourn,
And Pray'd for more Auspicious days return:
His Godess, HONESTY, he long had lost
Upon the Ages Impious Surges tost.
No Influence, no Tract of her he finds,
But what remains in his and Generous Minds;
Whether She's fled, or how disturbed of rest,
He long revolv'd within his Tortur'd Breast.
To Forreign Climes, from Heavenly Seats Above,
Bearing the Mandates of Almighty
Jove,
As Angels do with swiftest speed repair
Through the vast Empires of extended Air;
Guided by Heav'nly Charts, a Passage find,
And leave the Winds and Flagging Clouds behind,
At once they view the Regions of the
Sky,
And Human Actions, as aloft they fly.
Thus does the Mind all distant Forms survey,
And Just
Ideas
to itself convey;
Things hid in Dark recess to Light are brought,
By Inspiration, or a Turn of Thought.
His Mind first brought him, as the chief of things,
Unto the Gilded Palaces of Kings;
He thought a GODESS of so Great a Port
Was fit for Empire, and received at COURT;
Soon the Mistaken Bard his Error found,
When Fancy brought him on the Slipp'ry Ground;
Nature does here with hideous Forms affright,
And Paints the Landscape of Eternal Night.
The Sun, whose Blessing is his heat Divine,
Does here, like some Enchanted Taper, shine;
Pimps, Parasites and Knaves make up the Throng,
Whilst Ghosts of Poison'd Monarchs glide along.
A Den, where none but Beasts of Prey resort,
And hatch New Crimes, their Old Ones to Support.
Night-
Ravens
Perch, with the Ill-boding-
Owl
;
State-
Foxes
Bark, and Rav'nous
Tigers
Howl.
Goblins
Transform themselves, and
Night-Mares
Prance;
Elves
Bellow Loud, and Ghastly
Satyrs
Dance.
Men here by
Philtres
do provoke their Loves,
And every Woman a
Medoea
proves:
Each Man, with Envy, does the next surprise,
The Small-ones Grumble as the Great-ones Rise;
One Man Preferr'd, the Residue Combine,
And do his State-Foundations Undermine:
Yet all Aspiring to be Gay and Great,
Alike, they Flatter, and alike they Cheat.
Still Fancy leads him, by Mistaken Rules,
And brings him, next, to
Colleges
and
Schools
;
Where Youth is with the Laws Corruption Fed;
Where
Priests
are Form'd, and Holy
Cheats
are Bred;
Taught to Mislead the Ignorant from the Way,
Bewitch their Sences, and their Faith Betray:
From these, as from the Stews, do overflow,
(Num'rous, as Grass does on the Mountains grow)
Monks, Nuns
and
Priests,
of every Sect and Kind,
The same in Virtue, and the same in Mind:
Here, to the Sacred Altar he repairs,
Hoping to Meet his
Goddess
at her Prayers:
With Fervent Zeal the
Priests
Devotion Pay,
With Outward CANT, and Hearts within Astray:
By Formal Zeal the Trading-Priesthood Thrives,
Yet Damn their Doctrine in their Wicked Lives.
Incens'd at this, our
Poet
did express
His Just Resentments, in such Words as these;
"How much this Age, than others, is Accurst?
"How much Unlike what was Created First?
"The Infant-World with Care and Plenty Blest,
"Knew not the Plague nor odious Name of
Priest
;
"Each Man a Temple in his Dwelling saw,
"And Taught his Children to Expound the Law;
"Was Priest himself, yet Plough'd his Fertile Soil,
"And eat the Sweets of all his Care and Toil:
"No Black-Invader did his Ease molest,
"Nor Pay'd he Tythes to a Voracious Priest:
"Pamper'd with Ease, eat
Manna
for his Bread,
"Yet loathed those Daintys which his Bowels fed,
"At once, his
God
and
Liberty
Detests.
"He, like the Heathen-Nations, craved for Priests;
"Th'Almighty Froun'd, and in his Anger gave
"A Priest, should make unthinking Man a Slave:
"Scarce half his Bleating Flocks could now suffice
"The
Priest
for Office and for Sacrifice:
"The Priestly-pride devoured the Layman's Wealth,
"The
Hearers
Illness was the
Preacher
's Health▪
"The Unadulterate Priesthood never knew
"The Glory, Strength, nor Lewdness of the New
"Nor does the New those Sacred Tenants hold▪
"Nor love the Faith and Virtue of the old.
"Good God! no longer let us be Accurst!
"But show this Age how Man was Govern'd First;
"We'l soon acknowledge thy Imperial Power,
"While thy Just Sway our Wooden God's devour;
"Under thy Banner willing Nations call,
"Nor trust Mankind toattempt a Second Fall.
Next, to his Mind, a Martial Wight appears,
His Aspect Fierce, and Beautify'd with Scars,
Who does conduct him to the Scenes of Wars;
Where Mighty
Squadrons
range upon the Plain,
While Large
Battalions
Canvass Tents contain:
Not such as
Rome's
expiring Glorys raised,
And made the Wondring World around Amaz'd;
Whose Prowess gained their State a just Applause,
With Arms proportioned to so good a
Cause
;
Repair'd the Fame of its declining State,
And made
Rome's
Empire and her Glorys great:
These never knew the
Modern Arts
of War,
Fighting, and not Entrenching, was their Care.
The God of War disowns his Progeny,
And
Bacchus
is amazed, ashamed to see
Men more Debauch'd, and Proffligate than He.
One Boasts his Valour, and his Fam'd Exploits,
Tho' he for Coin, not for his Country Fights:
Beneath a Gloomy Ditch, one Wounded lies,
Praying to God to Damn him ere he Dies.
Vile Wretch, that would his Destiny Forestall,
And, for what others Dread, so Vainly Call;
Loud, as Defeated Armies, when they Fly,
They Belch out Oaths, and Blacken all the Sky.
No Footsteps here of
Honesty
remain,
Impiety and Lewdness fill the Plain.
In vain, over Hills and Mountains he Complains;
In vain he treads the Unfrequented Plains:
Next he Attempts the Billows of the Deep,
Where
Neptune
Rules, and's Watry-Court does keep:
Tho' Brittle
Barks
are here to pieces Torn,
Venus,
a Godess, on the Waves was Born:
Here Raging Winds are sometimes Lull'd Asleep,
And
Halcyon
's Brood upon the Silent Deep:
Here Little
Cupid
does Expand his Wing,
And
Tritons
Dance, while Lovely
Sirens
Sing:
He Views the Gilded Ships, who Lofty Ride,
And with their Prows Stem the Approaching Tide;
Pleas'd with the Goodly Sight, allured from Far,
Tho' with the mean Perfumes of Pitch and Tarr,
He does Approach, They Marine State provide,
The
Boatswain
's Whistle, and they Man the Side;
He enters, is received in Awful Port,
Beholds the Splendour of a Marine Court;
He looks around, and stands amazed to see
The Costly Splendid Luxury of the Sea;
In Wooden Castles Floating from afar,
The
Captains
Cursing as the
Sailors
Swear,
Than Sands themselves, more Treacherous, on the shore,
Or Faithless Winds, when Angry Tempests Roar.
Tyrannick
Sway
o'r
Government
prevails,
They'r puffed with Pride as
Boreas
fills their sails▪
In whose Bigg Bellies undiscover'd lie
The Fate of Kings, and
Sailor
's Destiny;
Like sooty Fiends, they to their Cabbins Creep,
Leviathan,
not
Neptune,
Rules the Deep.
Fatigu'd in Search, and in his Mind oppressed,
Our
Poet
lays his Weary'd Limbs to Rest:
Ease to our Limbs, in every place, we find,
But what can Ease the Labors of the Mind?
When the declining Sun dropt out of sight,
And Evening-Stars had Usher'd in the Night;
And Wanton Fishes, which before did Sport
On the Streams Surface to the Deep resort,
To their Repose upon some Slimy Bed,
Or in the Caverns of the Banks are laid,
Two gent'e
Charons,
Rowing, he espy'd,
With Well-tym'd Oars, upon the Ebbing-Tide,
They took him in, and to
Augusta
came,
Augusta,
great in Riches as in Fame,
He views each Stately Dome, each lofty Spire,
A
Phoenix
City sprung from Fatal Fire;
With Trade and Riches in abundance blest,
By Forreign Empires and Great States Garrest:
Each Flowing-Tide does fill her Crowded Port
With Ships could bear the Island they do Court;
Whose Wooden-Wombs produce a Mighty Birth
Of all the Treasures of the Distant Earth,
Ships, who, like Bees, to Both the
Indies
Roam,
And having Plunder'd whereso're they come,
Do, to this Hive, bring all their Honey Home.
With Generous Wine, and Costly Dainties filled,
Augusta's
Sons devour what Swains have Till'd.
Her Mighty Bigness does augment her state,
And Borrowing Princes at her Chamber wait.
In Princely Palaces her Sons reside,
And grow as Wanton as the Flowing Tide.
Her Women Beauteous, of Majestick Port;
Venus
and
Cupid
both keep here their Court;
But our Bard's
Goddess
here has no resort.
A Fabric stands near to its Rivers Edge,
A Monument of Vast Aspiring Height,
Wond'rous in Form, Amazing to the Sight;
Founded in
Orphans
Ruin,
Widows
Tears,
And the Collected Wealth of many Years;
It's lofty Top, in thicker Air it shrouds,
And hides its shameful Head among the Clouds;
Aspiring thus it nearer Heaven does grow,
That Heaven might see Men's Villanies below.
Founded at first a Monument for Sin,
Because the Cities Flames did here begin.
Thus some Lewd
Priest,
who, like a sharpen'd Scythe,
Has Mow'd a Parish of its Wealth for Tythe;
Heaven to Appease, he most Devoutly Prays,
And all his Plunder on the Altar lays.
From hence our
Poet
Views the Crowded Streets,
And various Men with various Minds he Meets;
Some Trick, like Courtiers, with Despotick Power,
And, like Great Fish, the Lesser Fry devour.
Some Clad with
Livery Fines,
profusely live,
And over the Pavements in their Coaches drive.
Bankrupts Commissions
make some Rich and Great;
He only Best does Trade, who Best does Cheat,
Next at the
Inns of Court
a while he stops;
In those Dark Cells he for his
Doddess
Gropes,
As scattered Limbs of Beasts in pieces Torn,
The Entrance to a Lyon's Den Adorn:
Thus at each
Lawyers Door
does Groveling lie
The Poor Remains of some Lost Family;
Praying, for what was once, by Law, their Own,
By Parchment Murder'd, and False Deeds Undone.
Lord! How these Brutes with one another Jarr,
And Scold a Trial at the Noisy Barr?
Lawyers, like Tailors Sheers, do Ope and Shut,
And Grind each other in their Clients Suite;
But still the Client is the Cloth they Cut.
Corrupted Gold from Plainest Statutes draw;
As Priests do Wrest the
Gospel,
these the
Law.
From these, as from the
Pestilence,
he Runs,
And takes a View of
Aesculapius
Sons;
Environ'd round with Sceletons they sit,
And Instruments of Grizly Death do fit.
No Ball from Canons Mouth more surely Kills;
Nor half so many as their Poys'nous Pills:
Not from
Pandora's
Box more Poysons fly,
Then in their Nasty Drugs and Extracts lie,
Denying Use of Natures wholesome Food,
They, with their
Recipes,
Corrupt our Blood.
Curst is the Wretch the Goblin-
Doctor
Haunts;
He's Kill'd by Inches, Stung to Death by
Ants
:
Yet Mild-Authority Approves their Skill;
Hangmen
and
Doctors
have a Right to Kill.
Our
Bard
Confounded with the City Cheats,
Like Pious
Lot,
from
Sodom
he Retreats;
Where he his
Goddess,
or his Fate may find,
Nor casts one Unauspicious Look behind:
He Walks a-foot along the Dusty Road,
Where Waggons Groan beneath their Mighty Load;
Where, from the Towns on
Albion
's distant Coast,
Men, to
Augusta,
Travel, like an Host:
When
Sol
's Hot Station did oppose the North,
And, through the Air, Warm Beams were darted forth.
Beneath a Shrub our
Poet
lays him down,
To Ease his Limbs, and pass the Heat at Noon;
No Dainties here Grace his Contented Board,
But what the Brambles and the Hedge afford.
What Liquor Nature had created first,
Did from the Brook allay his Heat and Thirst.
With Gentle Slumbers, and with Ease Refresht,
(Not Men, on Downy Beds, more sweetly Rest;)
He Travels o'r the Melancholy Heath,
And Views the Valleys, and the Heards beneath;
Till
Sol
Retir'd unto his Place of Rest,
And all in Darkness the
Horizon
Drest:
Our
Poet
now a Lonesome Wood had found,
Beneath whose Boughs he lays him on the Ground:
Unto his
Goddess
first his Prayers he made,
Whilst Birds did Sing their
Vespers
over his Head.
No Beast of Prey disturbed his soft Repose,
But in the Morning to his Toil he rose.
Long over the Hills and Mountains he Complains,
And makes Enquiry of the Pagan Swains▪
Some little notice of the Swains he had,
His
Goddess Honesty
that Way was Fled.
One Evening, as he past a Loansome Plain,
Scorchit with the Sun, and seldom Blest with Rain▪
Hither for Herbage Beasts do never Repair,
Nor will the Soil reward the Tillers Care▪
A Little Village near the Plain there stood,
Contiguous to a Small, but Lofty Wood▪
Like some, more happy, Unfrequented Grove,
Where Turtles Wooe, and Swains Commence their Love:
Whether Inspir'd, or Destitute of Food,
He Steers his Course by the obliging Wood;
Beneath the Shadow of whose Spreading Trees,
Guarded by
Cottagers,
his
Goddess
Sees.
Though her Mean State Proclaim'd aloud Despair,
She still was Charming, and her Features Fair▪
He made Obeysance at his
Goddess
Feet,
And She did kindly her Adorer Greet:
Dear Youth! She says, From whence proceeds this Toil?
What makes thee Ravage this Deserted Isle?
Long I Her Cities and her Towns have Left,
Of all their
God's
and
Honesty
Bereft▪
To seek New Converts in the Thickest Shades▪
Free from the Crowds the Noisy Town
•
nvades
But
Honesty
is everywhere the same,
Though Courts may hate
Her,
nor
Her
Worth Proclaim.
Each Rising-Sun does Fresher Charmes Engage;
She's not Decay'd, but more Improv'd by Age.
Then Sit Down, Youth, and See my Homely Court,
What Humble Pageantries my Pomp Support.
FINIS.