ABVSES
STRIPT,
AND
WHIPT.
OR
SATIRICAL ESSAYES.
By
GEORGE WYTHER.
Divided into two Books
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
.
Dispise not this what ere I seem in show,
A fool to purpose speaks sometime you know.
[illustration]
AT LONDON,
Printed by G. ELD, for FRANCIS
BVRTON, and are to be sold at his shop
in
Paul's
Church-yard, at the sign of
the Green-Dragon.
1613.
To him-self, G. W. wisheth
all hapinesse.
T
Hou
(even myself)
whom
next
God,
my
Prince,
and
Country
I am most engaged
unto; It is not vnlikelie,
but some will wonder,
why, contrary to the
worlds custom, I have
made choice of thy Patronage for this
book, rather then the protection of such
whose mightiness might seem better able
to defend it; especially considering such a
Gigantick
troupe of adversaries have banded
themselves against the
Truth,
that one
of them
Goliath
-like dares rail upon a whole
host of
Israel.
It may be (I say) some will
wonder, and some scoff at me for it; for
which cause (though to answer them with
sic volo
had been sufficient: yet to show I will
not like our
Great ones
stand so much upon
my authority as to make my
Will
my
Reason
)
I here let you know why, and for what
causes I have done it; the first is this: I
could not amongst all men find any man,
in my opinion, so fitting for this purpose,
but either my
Work
was unworthy, or too
worthy his Patronage. Secondly, it is
said;
Obsequium amicos, veritas odium parit:
and I doubting my free speech would hardly
make a
Diapason,
pleasing to the ear of
a common
Mecaenas,
thought it best to hold
my tongue, or speak to myself, whose disposition
I am better acquainted with.
Thirdly, seeing I know but what men appear,
and not what they are; I had rather
endure the
Kites
tyranny, then with
Aesop's
Doves make the Sparrow-hauke my
Champion.
Fourthly, if I have spoken
Truth
it is able
to defend it self; if not, who-ere be my
Patron, it is I must answer for it. Fifthly, for
as much as I know my own mind best; I
purpose, if need be, to become my own
Advocate.
Sixthly, for my own sake I first made
it, and therefore certain I am I myself
have most right unto it. But seauently, and
lastly (which is indeed the principal
Reason
) I
have made this
Dedication
to thee, poor
world
-despised
Self;
even to put thee in
mind, (seeing thou hast here boldly begun
to bid defiance to the
Flesh,
and upon just
causes quarrelled with the
World
) that thou
take heed to thine own words, and not
through baseness of mind or untowardness
of
Fortune
(to thy everlasting disgrace)
faintly give over so noble a
Combat;
If ever
adversity (as tis like enough) oppress thee,
yet remember thy own sayings, and in despite
of outward
Destinies
have a care to
keep an vndeiected heart still free for
Virtue.
Or on the contrary, if ever (as tis unlikely)
unexpected
Prosperity
be cast upon
thee, then look to thyself, take to thee this
poor book of thine, wherein thou shalt
see the dangers of it, and be, perhaps, thereby
staid from many a perilous enterprise,
which that estate might else drive thee
into. Read it, weekly, daily, yea and
howerly toe: what though it be thine
own? thou knowest man's nature to
be so uncertain, and prone to forgetfulness,
even in the best things, that thou
canst not have too many
Memorandums.
The wisest fall, and therefore every day was
Philip
desirous to be remembered that he
was a
Man;
thou thinkest I know, still to remain
what thou art, I desire in some things
thou mayest, but unless thou labor it with
diligent watchfulness over
affection,
it is at
least much to be doubted, if not altogether
to be despaired of; thou hast seen many
by an alteration in their estate been so
metamorphosed,
as if they were not the same
men, nor of that
Nation.
Nay remember it, thou thyself, and that
but upon a bare hope, or imagination of
some preferment, hast been puffed up and exalted
above measure: consider now then
how much more thou hadst been so and
what had become of thee if God had not
by dashing those hopes called thee to thy
self again? Alas! if he had answered thy
ambitious
expectations to thy desire, thou
hadst been by this time past recovery and
not thought of this; but delighted in
villainy,
been over-mastered by
passion,
rusht into
all
vanity
and
presumption;
yet never felt any
danger, till it were too late to prevent it▪
Thou hast oft wisht thou hadst been borne to
the like means that others are, which might
it have been so, now thou seest thou
shouldst hardly, or never, have come to the
knowledge of those things, that are now
shown thee. It is true, thou hast lamented
to be crossed in thy preferments, but thou
seest since that it might have been thy undoing
if it had not been so, and mayest persuade
thyself, whether it be now or never,
it will be to thy good. For tell me, hast thou
not often felt, even when thou wert busiest
to prevent them;
fond love, ambition, revenge,
covetousness
and such like
Passions
then to invade thee? Hast thou perceived
it I say? How much more then would
they have been ready to assail thee, when
quite forgetting them, thou hadst wholly
addicted thyself to the things of this
world?
Let me advise my
dear-self
then, to make
use of this thine own work, it will be better
to thee then all the
world:
for this good
it may do thee, and to this end I made both
•
t and the
Dedication
thereof to thee, that if
ever hereafter the temptations of the
world,
the
flesh
& the
devil,
or any occasion should
make thee to forget this mind that thou art
now in: or so blind thy understanding
thou shouldst not perceive thy own and
the
Worlds
follies as thou now dost; That
if thou shouldst be in that miserable state as
many are, to have no feeling of thy danger:
that if thou shouldst be woefully flattered
and have no friend that dares, or loves
thee so well to put thee in mind of thy
transgressions.
Then I have ordained this to show
thee what once thou wert, to touch thee
again with the feeling of thy miseries,
and to be unto thee that true
Friend,
which, free from all feigned invention,
shall plainly tell thee, what perhaps should
else have never been brought again to
thy remembrance. Look then that for
thy own sake thou respect this, how ever
to others it may seem a trifle. Be
careful of thy actions, for seeing thou
knowest the dangerous
Passions
whereunto
Man
is subject, hast shown his
vanities,
laid open his
Weakenesse,
and sharply
taxed his
Presumptions:
If now thou
shouldest willfully run thyself into
the same evils, the
world
would vpraid
•
thee, this
Book,
yea thy
Conscience
accuse
thee, God and good-men hate thee, thy
fault be more odious and in-excusable, thy
judgment
more severe, and which is worst,
thy punishment most intolerable; I say
seek therefore (if for no other cause) so to
carry thyself, that at least thou mayest
have a good conscience before God, for
Si Deus tecum quis contrate,
but if now having
made the
World
thine enemy, exposed
thyself to the malice thereof, and having
so many
Legions
of foes without thee,
thou shouldest also, by thy negligence,
suffer the invincible fortress of a sound
Conscience
to be crazed within thee, the
Di
•
ell,
that is always watching such advantages,
would quickly possess it with an unmerciful
troupe of
Horrors, Feares,
and
Desperations,
that without
God's
miraculous
assistance thou wouldest grow wholly past
either comfort or recovery.
For all the
World
cannot defend thee against
thy
Conscience,
but
that
being with
he, thou mayest prevail against all the
World.
Beware then, do not like the
Zibe
•
hum
yield a perfume to sweeten others
and be thyself a stinking vermin, but
let this thy own work be first confirmed
by thy life and conversation, yea let it be a
President
to thyself, for,
Tan
•
i erit aliis
quanti tibi fuerit,
but if not, I say if the
World
mis-esteem either it or thee, yet do
not thou therefore esteem the less either
of thy book or of thyself, but rather let
them know
That thou hast learned, still thy care, shall be,
A rush for him, that cares a straw for thee.
But now, though for these and diverse oother
Reasons,
I have to thee my
Owne-self
committed the
protection,
and made the
Dedication
of this book, yet my meaning
is not that thou shouldst keep it wholly to
thine own use; But rather seeing it is honorable
to give, (though none will give
thee anything) I have bestowne this o
•
thee, that if thou canst in this corrupted
age, find any, whom desert, and thy love
may make so dear unto thee, or whom
•
thou art persuaded will gratify, or but
think well of thy honest endeavors, thou
mayest be liberal to them both of these
thy labors and expenses. But this I conjure
thee to; be they never so great yet flatter
not, or if he be a man whom thou knowest
the
World
speaks any way justly ill of;
either tell him his fault, or leave him wholly
out of thy
Catalogue:
But because I begin
to grow tedious to my
own-self,
and since
I shall have
Opportunity
enough to consider
with thee what is further needful without
an
Epistle,
with my prayers for my
Prince,
my
Country,
my
friends,
and my
•
wne
prosperity, without any leave taking,
or Commendations of my
Self;
I
heartily wish my own
Soul
to fare-well.
Thy Princes, thy Countries, thy
friends, and thine i. thine
own whilst Reason masters
Affection.
GEO. WITHER.
To the Reader.
R
Eaders; I speak to you that
have understanding; when
these first fruits of my converted
Muses,
shall come to
your judicious censures, Do
not look for
Spencers,
or
Daniel's
well composed numbers;
or the deep conceits of now flourishing
Johnson;
no; say tis honest plain matter, & there's as much
as I look for. If I have seemed to err in anything
suppose me not so obstinate, or well conceited of my
own opinions, but that I may be persuaded by any
that shall produce stronger
reasons
to the contrary.
If anything may seem to have a doubtful
interpretation, assure yourselves the honestest
meaning in it is mine, and although some may
think
I
have not so well joined things together as
I
might have done,
I
know whē you have considered
the nature of the
Subject,
& the diversity of
things therein handled, you will accept my good will
& let my years be an excuse for that & all other
ignorant over-sights whatsoever. Some no doubt
will mistake my plainness, in that
I
have so bluntly
spoken what
I
have observed, without any
Poetical
additions or feigned
Allegories, I
am sorry
I
have not pleased them therein, but should
have been more sorry if
I
had displeased myself
in doing otherwise; for
I
know if
I
had wrapped up
vy meaning, in dark riddles,
I
should have been
more applauded and less understood, which I
nothing desire.
I
neither fear nor shame to
speak the
Trurh,
and therefore have nakedly
thrust it forth without a covering. To what
end were it, if
I
(as some do) had appareld my
mind in dark
Parables,
that few or none
might have understood me?
I
should do better
to be silent; but if it be more in request
I
may
hereafter be obscure enough, yet in this tis not
my meaning, for indeed, if
I
knew how, my desire
is to be so plain, that the bluntest
Iobernole
might understand me. Our Grand-villains
care not for a secret ierk; well we may
show an honest wit in covertly nipping them; but
either 'tis in vain cause they perceive it not, or
else ridiculous, seeing they only understand it
who will but either malice or flout us for our labors.
Many may dislike the harshnes of the
Verse
but you know, although it be not stately, yet it we
enough befits the matter, and whereas
I
may seem
blame-worthy in mixing
Divinity
with
Humanity:
yet when you have found my general aim;
considered with what reverent respect
I
have done
it, and what commendable authorities
I
may have
for it, I nothing misdoubt your approbation. Those
things which concern myself, may seem childish,
nothing pleasing, but you must consider I had
a care to please myself as well as others; and if the
World
blame me as to saucy with her, 'tis for
want of manners, but her own fault, that would
allow me no better education. To be brief, if I
have any way offended I am so well persuaded you
will mildly conster my errors and infirmities, that
I
rest wholly, and only on your sound and incorrupted
Judgments.
*But*
Readers;
I mean you that are no more but
Readers;
I make no question if this book come to your
spelling, it will have many halting verses, and
disioynted sentenses: for I have had experience
of your insufficiency: yet have
I
striu'd to be
for your sakes
I
tell you (because
I
would if it were
possible be understood) as plain (as they
say) as a pack-saddle, and now the doubt is then
fools will ride me. If they do certainly,
I
shall
be rough & uneasy for their tenderness. Though
you understand them not yet because you see this
wants some fine
Phrases
& flourishes, as you find
other men's writings stuffed withal, perhaps you
will judge me unlearned. Well; and right enough.
Yet you will be counted but saucy
Cobblers
to go
beyond your
Lasts.
And if that be a fault did not
the subject and your ignorances, require me to be
in that sort faulty?
I
could with ease have amended
it, for it cost me (
I
protest) more labor to observe
this plainness then if
I
had more
Poetically
trimmed ii, but for fear if
I
speak much,
I
confound your
Memories, I
will say no more but
this,
Read and welcome,
but
Censure not,
for your judgment is weak and
I
utterly
renounce it.
To Time. EPIGR. 1.
NOw swift-devouring, bald and ill facit
Time,
Dost not thou blush to see thyself vncloakit?
Oh that I knew but how to laugh in
Rime?
Faith I would do it though thou wisht me choked.
Did'st thou but see how thy fair
antique
shape,
Is now transformed to a
shapelesse hew:
How like thou look'st to some
Barbarian Ape,
Could'st thou I say with me thine own self view
Thou wouldst be
Metamorphosed
anew,
Run quite away, and either all amend,
Or wish thyself and all things at an end.
And yet despair not
Time,
though thou art ill;
The worst that ever yet was known to be,
It is not ordained thou shouldst remain so still,
For I myself this age do hope to see:
The gloriou'st work that ever Time brought forth,
The master-piece, and the most noble act;
In the respect of which 'twere nothing worth
If all the brave deeds done were but one fact,
Rome's fall
I
mean;
I heard it when it cracked.
Yea from my
Cradle
I did still surmise;
I should see
Babel
tumble
Bethel
rise,
EPIG. 2.
I Hear theres some ask how I dare so plain
Tax the
Abuses
that I now see reign,
I muse as much they dare say ill unto it,
Or dare but ask, but how I dare to do it.
To the Stranger 3.
THou that wert so unhappy first, to breath,
Without the compass of
Great Britons
powe
•
And blest again that fate did thee bequeath,
The knowledge of so rich a tongue as our.
If understanding thou dost hap to read,
This book wherein thou seest my nations sham
•
Yet do not thou against my Country plead,
For thine thou knowest doth merit as much blame
Our faults are many, this indeed is true;
But were they moe, we were no worse then you.
To the Satyro-mastix. 4.
OH Lord Sir y'are deceiu'd I am none of though
••
That write in Anger, or malicious spleen,
I have not taken pepper in the Nose,
Nor a base forger of false libels been,
Such ones there be indeed, such I have seen;
I envy no man for his greatness I,
Nor seek I any honest man's disgrace;
I joy in every ones prosperity,
I will not the credit of a dog deface,
My Aduersaery shall not prove the case.
Then stand back sirrah Whip-Jack with your scourge,
Do not incense my Satyr for thy life:
He's patient enough unless thou urge,
Contentions are now a days to rife,
And he is very backward unto strife,
But notwithstanding here he lets thee see,
As long as there is cause and reason why:
In spite of all that foes to Satyrs be:
He shall, if I list tax iniquity,
It is a matter of necessity.
What? you would fain have all the great ones freed,
They must not for their vices be controlled,
Beware; that were a saucines indeed;
But if the
Great-ones
to offend be bold,
I see no reason but they should be told.
Yea and they shall; their faults most hurtful be,
And though I will not put them to that shame,
I no injustice in the matter see,
If they were taxed by their proper name,
For no sin can on earth have her full blame.
Then
Scourge
of
Satyrs
hold thy whip from mine,
Or I will make my rod lash thee and thine.
To the gald Reader.
EPIG. 8.
SIr, he thats night-gald or hath corns on's toes,
May blame the Shoemaker and curse his shoes
But those that are acquainted with the fault,
Can tell the reason wherefore he doth halt;
So thou mayest think (perhaps) these
Satyrs
sting thee
Where only thy own guiltiness doth wring thee.
For if thou wert from these diseases free,
Thou wouldst be quiet as some others be.
But tis well known
a ticklish beast hath tricks
And the old
Prouerb
saith
a gold la
•
e kicks.
But I will advise thee, if thou feel it smart,
Be rule by me and play not the fools part,
Keepit to thyself, and there are none shall know,
Whether that thou art touched therein or no,
Thou seest thou neither art marked out nor na'md;
And therefore only to thyself art shamed;
Now if thou stir at best thou shalt but make
The Country of thy faults more knowledge take.
And (as indeed it justly may) divine,
The worst faults that I write against are thine,
Then since to be reproved seems a curse,
And to be moved makes the matter worse,
Either for to amend thy life have care,
O
•
like a Pack! orse and an Ass still bear.
To the Impartiall Author.
CEorge,
I did ever think thy faithful breast,
Conteind a mind beyond the common sort,
Thy very look and honest heart expressed,
And seemed an awe-full mildness to import:
Poets may vaunt of smooth and lofty strains,
Thine with thy subject fitly do agree;
But then thy
Muse
a better praise obtains,
For whilst the greatest but
time-pleasers
be,
Thou vnappald and freely speak'st the truth:
Not any one for fear or lucre sparing:
A virtue rare in age, more rare in youth;
Another
Cato,
but I think more daring;
Well mayest thou speed in these tempestuous times,
Thou soon begin'st to make the world thy foe
Yet I so well do like thy honest rimes;
That I could wish all Poets would write so;
For thou the way of truth so rightly tend'st,
I hold them double praised whom thou commendst
Thy dear friend,
TH. C.
The Contents of the first
BOOKE.
-
The Occasion.
-
The Introduction,
-
Of Man
-
Offond Love. Satyr 1
-
Of Lust. 2
-
Of Hate. 3
-
Of Envy. 4
-
Of Reuenge. 5
-
Of Choller. 6
-
Of Jealousy, 7
-
Of Covetousness. 8
-
Of Ambition. 9
-
Of Fear. 10
-
Of Despair. 11
-
Of Hope. 12
-
Of Compassion. 13
-
Of Cruelty. 14
-
Of Joy. 15
-
Of Sorrow. 16
-
The Conclusion of the first Book.
THE SECOND
BOOKE.
-
Of Vanity. Satyr. 1
-
Of Inconstancy 2
-
Of Weaknes. 3
-
Of Presumption 4
-
The Scourge
-
Epigramms to the King, &c. and to certain noble Personages
and friends, to whom the Author gave any
of his Books.
THE OCCASION.
Of this work.
WHen nimble
Time,
that all things over-runs;
Made me forsake my tops and elderne guns
Reaching those years in which the school boys brag
In leaving off the bottle and the bag:
The very spring before I grew so old,
That I had amost thrice five winters told,
Noting my other fellow-pupils hast,
That to our English
Athens
flocked so fast:
Least others for a truant should suspect me,
That had the self-same
Tutor
to direct me
And in a manner counting it a shame,
To undergo so long a School-boys name,
Thither went I; for (though I will not compare)
With any of them that my
fellows
were;
Yet then (I will speak it to my
Teachers
praise)
I was vnfurnisht of no needful lays;
Nor any whit for Grammar rules to seek,
In
Lilies
Latin, nor in
Camdens
Greek.
But so well grounded that another day,
I could not with our idle students say
For an excuse I was ill entered; no:
There are too-many know it was not so;
And therefore since I came no wiser thence,
I must confess it was my negligence,
Yet daily longing to behold and see,
The places where the sacred
Sisters
be;
I was so happy to that
Foard
I came,
Of which an
Ox,
they say, bears half the name:
It is the spring of knowledge that imparts,
A thousand several Sciences, and Arts,
A
Crystal
fount, whose water is by ods,
Far sweeter then the
Nectar
of the
God's:
Or for to giueit a title that befits,
It is the very
Nurcery
of wits;
There once arrived, cause my wits were raw,
I fell to wondering at each thing I saw
And for my learning made a months vacation,
In nothing of the places situation:
The
Palaces
and
Temples
that were due
Unto the wife
Mineruaes
hallowed crew;
Their
cloisters, walks,
and
groves
all which suruei'd,
And in my new admittance well apaid;
I did (as other idle
Freshmen
do)
Long for to see the Bell of
Osney
to:
But yet, indeed (may not I grieve to tell?)
I never drank at
Aristotle's Well.
And that perhaps may be the reason why,
I know so little in Philosophy.
Yet old Sir
Harry Bath
was not forgot,
In the remembrance of whose wondrous shot,
The
Forest
by (believe it they that will)
Retaines the surname of
shot-over
still:
Then having seen enough, and therewithal,
Got some experience at the
Tennisball,
My
Tutor
(telling me I was not sent,
There to be idle, but with an intent,
For to increase my knowledge), called me in,
And with his grave instructions did begin
To teach: And by his good persuasions sought,
To bring me to a love of what he taught:
Then after that he gan for to impart,
The hidden secrets of the
Logic
Art;
In steed of grammar rules he taught me than,
Old Scotus, Seton,
and new
Keckerman.
He showed me which the
Predicables
be,
As
Genus, Species,
and th' other three,
So having said enough of their contents,
Handles in order the ten
Praedicaments,
Then
Post praedicaments:
with
Priorum,
Perhermenias
and
posteriorum:
He with the
Topics
opens; and descries
Elenchi,
full of subtle falacies:
These to unfold (indecd) he took some pain,
But to my dull capacity in vain:
For all he spake was to as little pass,
As in old time unto the vulger was
Their
Latin
service, which they understood
Aswel as did a horse to do them good,
And I his meaning did as near conjecture,
As if he had been reading
Hebrew lecture;
His
Infinites, Indiuiduit
•
es,
Contrari's,
and
Subcontrarieti's,
Diuisions: Subdiuisions,
and a crew
Of terms and words such as I never knew;
My shallow understanding so confounded,
That I was gravel'd like a ship that's grounded;
And in despair the mistery to gain,
Neglecting all took neither heed nor pain,
Yea, I remaind in that amazed plight,
Till
Cinthia
six times lost her borrowed light,
But then ashamed to find myself still mute,
And other little
Dandiprats
dispute,
That could distinguish upon
Rationale,
Yet scarcely heard of
Ver
•
um Personale;
And could by heart (like
Parots
) in the Schools,
Stād prattling, those me thought were pretty fools,
And therefore in some hope to profit so,
That I like them (at least) might make a show:
I reached my books that I had cast about,
(To see if I could pick the meaning out)
And prying on them with some diligence,
At length I felt my dull intelligence
Begin to open; and perceived more,
In half an hour then half a year before,
And which is strange the things I had forgot,
And till that very day remembered not,
Since first my
Tutor
read them; those did then,
Return into my memory agen,
•
o that with which I had so much to do,
A week made easy, yea and pleasing too.
But then with that not thoroughly content,
•
practice'd to maintain an
Argument,
And having waded thorough
Sophistry,
•
ell unto reading of
Philosophy;
And thinking there the
Ethics
not enough,
•
also had a longing for to know,
The cause of
snow, hail, thunder, frost, and rain,
•
he lightnings, meteors,
and what here 'twere vain
For me to speak of; since I shall but show-it,
•
o those that better then myself do know-it.
Then from the causes of things natural,
•
went to matters
Metaphisical:
Of which when I a little news could tell,
•
(as the rest did) unto wrangling fell.
And as the fashion was for to disgrace her,
When I opposed the
truth
I could out-face her,
•
ut now ensues the worst, I getting foot,
•
nd well digesting
Learnings
bitter Root:
•
eady to taste the fruit; and when I thought
•
hold a
Calling
in that place have sought,
•
ound I was for other ends ordained,
•
ea to forsake this course I was constrained:
•
or
fortune
that full many a boone hath lost me,
•
hus in the reaping my contentment, crossed me.
•
u sir
(quoth she) that I must make my slave,
•
or whom in store a thousand plagues I have,
•
ome home, I pray, and learn to hold the plough,
•
or you have read
Philosophy
enough.
If wrangling in the
schools
be such a sport,
Go to those
Ploydens
in the
Inns of Court,
For ask your parish-neighbors they can tell,
Those fellows do maintain
contention
well;
For Art in numbers you no coile need keep,
A little skill shall serve to tell your sheep:
Seek not the
Stars
thy evils should relate,
Least when thou know them, thou grow desperate;
And let alone
Geometry,
tis vain,
I will find you work enough to mar your brain;
Or would you study
Musique?
else 'twere pity,
And yet it needs not, you shall find I will fit ye:
I will teach you how to frame a song, and will
Prouide you
cares
to be the subject still:
This,
Fortune
or my Fate, did seem to tell me,
And such a chance, indeed, ere long befell me,
For ere my years would suffer me to be,
Admitted for to take the lowest degree;
By
Fates
appointment (that no stay can brook)
The Paradise of
England
I forsook,
And seeing I was forced to leave those
mountains,
Fine groves, fair walks, & sweet delightful fountains
And since it might not unto me be granted,
To keep those places where the
Muses
hanted,
I home returned somewhat discontent,
And to our
Bentworth
beechy shadows went:
Bewailing these my first endeavors lost,
And so to be by angy
fortune
crossed,
Who though she daily do much mischief to me,
Can never whilst I live a greater do me;
And yet in that, ere she procured her will,
I learnt enough to scorn a
Fortune
still:
Yea use hath made her envy seem so vain,
That I am almost proud in her disdain:
But being back returned, as I have said,
Having a little in the
Country
stai'd,
I there espi'de (as I had long suspected)
I (vndeseru'd) of some was ill affected,
And that by those tis thought my friends had been,
But though they kept there malice long unseen,
And made fair shows as if they sought my good;
Yet they the same of all men most with-stood,
For, (seeming kind) they often did persuade
My friends, to learn me some
Mechannick
trade,
Vrging expense (perhaps) and telling how,
That
Learning
is but little made of now;
When twas through malice, cause they feared that I
Might come to understand my state thereby,
Exceed their knowledge, and attain to do,
My self more good, then they could wish me to:
For that, a worse, or some such scurvy end,
This self-conceited crew did ever bend
Their spiteful heads, by secret means to cross
My wisht desire, and to procure my loss:
But having noted this their hollowness,
And finding that mere
Country
business,
Was not my
Calling;
to avoid their spite,
(Which at that season was not shown outright)
I to the City often did resort,
To see if either that place, or the
Court,
Would yield preferment; but in vain I sought,
Ill
fortune
still my hopes confusion wrought.
Which though for an ill sign some understood,
Yet I presumed upon some future good.
For though I scarce am wisht so well of some,
I hope I have a happy time to come:
Which, when I have most need of comfort, shall
Send me true
Joy
to make amends for all;
But say it be not whilst I draw this air,
I have a heart (I hope) shall nere despair;
Because there is a God, with whom I trust,
My
soul
shall triumph, when my body's dust;
But when I found that my endeavors still,
Fell out as they would haueit that wisht me ill,
And when I saw the world was grown so coy,
To deem me then to
young
for to employ:
And that her
greatness
thought she did not want me
Or found no
Calling
bad enough to grant me,
(And having scapt a
thrall
which I will not touch,
Here in this place, for fear I have too much
Spoke on it elsewhere;) I say well weighing this,
Together what a foul reproach it is,
To be still idle: and because I spide
How glad they would be that my state enuide
To find me so although the
world
doth scorn
T' allow me action, as if I were borne
Before my time; yet for to let them see
In spite of
fortune
I will employed be;
Casting
Preferments
too much care aside
And leaving that to God for to provide;
The times abuses I observed and then
In general the
state
and
tricks
of men,
Wherein although my labor were not seen,
Yet (trust me) the discovery hath been,
My great content: and I have for my pain,
Although no outward, yet an inward gain.
Of which because I can with all my heart,
Allow my
Country-men
to have a part,
And cause I think it may do some a pleasure,
On opportunity I will now take seisure,
And summon up my
Muse
to make relation,
I may b' imploid ere long, now's my
Vacation.
AN INTRODVCTION.
COme then
Invention,
and call
Judgment
in,
Knowledge,
and
Reason,
fie where have you been?
Go whistle off my
Muse
that wanton plays,
With Epigrams, Love-Sonnets, Roundelaies,
And such like trifling game; Bid her come on,
I have found brauer prey to seize upon.
•
ome new inspiring prayer warms my heart,
And adds fresh courage unto every part:
New blood hath filled up all my
love-dri'd veins,
•
sacred
Fury
hath possessed my brains.
And something too there is that swells my breast,
•
il that be utter'd I expect no rest;
For full with matter like a
Sibill Nun,
I shall grow furious till this task be done.
Then rouse thee
Muse
each little
Hobby
plies,
At
Scarabes
and painted
Butterflies:
Leave thou such trash, it is not now for us,
To fly for pleasure; weele in earnest truss,
But thou lookst dull; unfit for lofty things,
Thy wanton flight I fear hath tir' de thy wings,
Least therefore thou shouldest faint, forsake th
•
efist,
And turn thyself into a
Satirist;
Not of the roughest, nor the mildestsort,
Be most in earnest, but sometimes in sport,
What e're thou find to speak be not afraid,
And for assistance crave
Iehouahs
aid.
Use all thy art, for why, thou must unfold,
The strangest
Nature
that was ever told:
At ripping up whereof some smart will be,
Yet go thou foreward still, who dares touch thee?
Diue if thou canst, til thou the bottom sound,
Yet not too far least thou thyself confound;
Mistake me not, I mean not thou shouldst go,
To search
th' earths center
what lies hid below,
Or undermine it for rich
Mineralls
Thou shalt not have to do with
Vegetalls,
Strange natures have both
Stones, Trees, Herbs, and Plants,
Which let him speak of that a
Subject
wants,
There is an Herb indeeed whose virtues such,
It in the pasture only with a touch,
Vnshooes the new-shod steed: within the North,
The
Scottish
Isles called
Oreades
brings forth
Trees, (or else writers fain it) from whose seeds,
A certain kind of
water-foul
proceeds.
The
Loadstone
also draws the steel unto it,
Yet hath not gin or instrument to do it,
Rare properties you see, but neither these
Nor what lies hidden in the vast wide
Seas
Mean I to speak off; I no knowledge have,
What Monsters play with
Neptunes
boisterous wave,
Nor quality of
birds,
nor
beasts
I found;
For why their natures may be quickly found,
Indeed we may by little inquisition,
Find out the brutish creatures true condition,
As for example we for certain know,
The
Elephant
much love to man will show.
The
Tigers, Wolves,
and
Lions
we do find,
Are ravenous, fierce and cruel even by kind,
We know at caryon we shall find the crows,
And that the roost-cock whē tis mid night knows:
By a few days experience we may see,
Whether the mastife, cursed or gentle be;
And many other natures we find out,
Of which we have no cause at all to doubt,
But theres another
Creature
called
Man,
Note him who will, and tell me if he can,
What his condition is; observe his deeds,
His speech, his raiment. yea and how he feeds
Try him a month, a year, an age, and when
You have so tried him; say, what is he then?
Retaines he either unto
Praester John,
Or else unto the whore of
Babylon:
If that you know not which of them to grant,
Is he a
Brownist
or a
Protestant?
If in an Age you cannot find out wheither
Are you so much as sure that he is either?
Is his heart
proud
or
humble?
know you where
Or when, he
hates,
or
loves, or stands in fear?
Or who can say (in Conscience I think none)
That this man's
words,
and
deeds, & thoughts
are one?
Where shall you him so well resolved find,
That wants a wandering and a wavering mind?
Nay he of whom you have most trial, when
You see him dying, will you trust him then?
Perhaps you may; yet questionless he leaves you,
A mind misdoubting still that he deceives you.
And no great wonder; for hees such an else,
That ever is uncertain of himself.
He is not
semper idem
in his will,
Nor stands on
this
or
that opinion
still,
But varies; he both will and will not too,
Yea even the thing he thinks and swears to do
He many times omits. Now God forgive him,
I wonder how another should believe him.
But this same
diverse
and
inconstant creature,
That so contrary is in his own nature,
'It is him my new-inspired
Muse
here tries,
Whilst he is living to
Anotomize:
It is his abuses and condition,
(Although it be beyond all definition)
I labor to discover: But as well
I may again drag
Cerberus
from hell:
Alcydes
toils were much, yet this is more,
Yea if his
twice-six,
had been twice
six-score.
It is so infinite for to unfold,
Although that I did speak til I were old,
Yet should I leave vnnam'd I am sure ee'n than,
Many a humor I have seen in
Man.
And yet I must needs say in him there be,
A thousand times more tricks then I can see.
It is wonderful, and my imagination
Is almost ouerwhelm'd with
admiration;
Indeed it is, so deep's man's heart; but yet,
Since either
want of years,
or
want of wit,
Or
lack of work,
or
lack of all,
hath brought me,
To be more heedful, then a number thought me;
Since it some time and study too hath cost me,
And many a
humor
of mine own hath lost me.
Since it hurts none, and since perhaps some may,
Be benefitted by 't another day,
Although it be a task that's not alone,
Too huge for to be done by any one,
But more then all the world can well dispatch,
Yet look what my weak memory could catch,
I will here relate and nothing of it spare,
Save things unfit, and such as neeedlesse are.
Now some will say twere fit I held my tongue,
For such a task as this I am too young:
He never had dealings in the world with men,
How can he speak of their conditions then?
He cannot they conclude: strong reasons why,
Know none how market goes but such as buy?
We see it happens that a shifting
Knaue,
A sly deceitful Connicatching slave,
Playing at
Cards
with some unskillful gull,
Whose purse is lined with Crowns and penniful,
May put a nimble feat for to deceive;
Which though a cunning gamester nere perceive,
He peradventure may the same descry,
That is no player but a stander by:
So I
aloof
may view, without suspicion,
Men's idle humors and their weak condition:
Plainer perhaps then many that have seen,
More days & on th' earths stage have Actors been.
And tis no marvel, for employment takes them,
Quite from themselves, and so dim-sighted makes them
They cannot see the fooleries they do,
Nor what ill
passions
they are subject to:
Then who ere carpe, the course I have begun,
In spite of them I will
(God helping)
run:
And least th' exordium hath too tedious been,
My
Observations
loe I now begin.
OF MAN.
MOunted aloft on
Contemplations wings,
And noting with myself the state of things,
I plainly did perceive as on a stage,
The
confused actions
of this present age,
I viewed the
World,
and I saw my fill,
Because, that all I saw therein was ill.
I weighed it well and found it was the
Scoene,
Of
Villany,
of
Lust,
and all unclean
And loathed corruption. Seeing which my
Mind,
(That by some
inspiration
ganne to find
The place was not in fault for this) searchit on,
To find the cause of this confusion.
And noting every Creature, there I found,
That only
Man
was the chief
spring
and
ground
Of all this
uproar;
Yea I soon did see,
He there was
all
in
all,
and none but he;
Then being also willing for to know,
What thing man was, I did begin to grow
Yet more inquisitive. An old
Record
At last I hapt upon which did afford
Much sacred light. It shown
Man was a Creature,
First made by God, Just, and upright by nature,
In his own Likeness. That he was compounded
Of soul and body: That this last was founded
Of earth: The first infused by inspiration,
And that the final cause of his creation,
Was to set forth the glory of his maker,
And with him to be made a joint-partaker
Of enldes happiness.
Growne much amazd,
To read this of him for a time I paus'd,
And finding now in man no mark or sign,
That ere he was a
Creature
so divine,
I knew not what to think, unless the same,
Meant any other
Creature
of that name:
But prying further on I there found out,
The resolution of my present doubt,
I saw the cause of's fall: How with free-will
He fell from his
first goodness
unto
ill:
I saw how he from happiness did slide,
Through disobedience and unthankful pride:
Yea and I found, how by that cursed fall,
He was bereaved and quite stripped of all
That so adornd him; his
first holiness,
Was changed to a
corrupted filthiness
Then he began to draw a
painful breath,
And was a
slave,
made
captive
unto
Death;
His body was exposed to labor, sweat,
And much disquieting: He got his meat
With sorrow, care, and many perturbations,
And then his soul grew subject unto
Passions
And strange distemperatures. More-over he,
So perfect miserable grew to be,
That if he had not a
Re-generation;
Nothing was left him but mere
desperation.
Having seen this, I made no question than,
But this was spoken of the Creature
Man
Which I sought after: Serching further yet,
On some
Ap
•
criphall
Records I hit,
The works of wise
Philosophers;
from whence,
I have received more intelligence
Concerning him, for there they do unfold,
Each part about his body, and have told
Secrets of
Nature
very rare to find,
Besides they have considered of the
Mind:
The
understanding part,
and do relate
The Nature of his
soul,
and her estate:
Deepe mysteries indeed: But cause that I
Cannot dive into that
Philosophy,
So far as these. And since I shall but tell,
Those things which no men can explain so well
As they themselves, I leave you to their books,
In which he that with good advisement looks,
Shall find it largely handled: As for me,
I mean to speak but what I know and see
By tried experience, which perhaps may give,
(Although I have but now begun to live)
Some profitable notes. First I avow,
What ever
Man
hath been, that he is now,
A Reasonable living Creature: who
Consisteth of a soul and body toe.
His Bodye's flesh and blood, subject to sinning,
Corrupting even in his first beginning,
And full of all uncleanness: Then his soul,
Is a pure lasting substance yet made foul
Through th' others filthiness: much suppressed
By diverse hurtful passions which molest
And hinder hir proceedings;
yea he's this,
A Creature that exceeding wretched is,
And that he may be sure no fault to want,
Vain, Fickle, Weak, and wondrous Arogazt.
And though his nature heretofore were pure,
Now nothing is more fading or unsure.
But I will omit at this time to relate,
The curses Iu'e observed in's outward state,
For though the body, that before the fall
Susteind no sorrow, were it ner'e so small:
Doth now feel hunger, with heat, thirst and cold,
A feeble birth, defects in being old,
With thousands more; and though each gasp of breath,
In misery he draw until his death.
Yet all this outward change which I do find,
Is nothing when I do behold the mind:
For there (as I have said) abused
passion,
Keepes Vmpire, and hath got
predomination.
Virtues
deposed thence, and
Vice
rule obtains;
Yea
Vice
from
Vice
there by succession reigns:
Thrusting out those that
Virtues
presence gracit
And in their steeds these hurtful monsters placit
Fond Love,
and
Lust, Ambition, Emnity,
Foolish
Compassion, Joy
and
Jealousy:
Fear, Hope, Despair,
and
Sadness,
with the
Vic
•
Cal'd
Hate, Reuenge,
and greedy
Avarice,
Choller
and
Cruelty:
which I perceiud,
To be the only causes
man's
bereau'd
Of quietness and rest. And these I found
To be the principal, and only ground
Of all pernicious mischeefes that do rage,
Or have disturbed him in any age,
And therefore I do here intend to show,
Ere I go farther, what ill humors flow
From these fore-named; yea I will declare,
To what
abuses
most men subject are
Through any of them: For when as I took view,
Although I saw not all, I found a few;
And for because I will not order break,
I will asunder of each
passion
speak.
OF THE PASSION.
OF LOVE.
SATYR. 1.
FIrst
Love;
the same I here the
first
do call,
Because that
passion
is most
Natural;
And of it self could not be discommended,
Wert not with many a foul abuse attended,
Or so much out of measure, as we see,
By those in whom it reigns it oft will be:
For look wherit grows into extremity,
It soon becometh
Virtues Laethargy,
Makes them set light by
reasons
sound direction,
And bears them headlong by vntam'd affection.
C
•
unsels
in vain, cause when this fit doth take them
Reason
and
understanding
doth forsake them;
It makes them some-time
merry,
some-time
sad,
Vntam'd men
mild, and many a
mild man mad:
To fools it wisdom gives, and makes the witty
To show thenselves most fools (the more's the pity)
Some it makes purblind, that they do not know,
The Snow white
Cygnet
from the cole-black
Crow;
That one to gold compares his Mistress
hair,
When 'tis like
fox-fur
and doth think she's fair,
Though she in beauty be not far before,
The Swart
West-Indian,
or the tawny
Moore.
Oh those fair Star-like eyes of thine,
one says:
When to my thinking she hath looked nine ways;
And that sweet breath;
when I think (out vpponit)
'Twould blast a flower if she breathed on it,
Another having got a dainty piece,
(Prouder then
Jason
with his golden fleece)
Commends her virtues that hath just as many,
As a
she-baud
that never yet had any.
Yet swears she's chaste and takes her for no more,
When all her neighbors knows she is a—
Another he grows careless of his health,
Neglects his credit and consumes his wealth,
Hath found a pretty
peat,
procured her favor,
And swears that he in spite of all, will have her;
Well let him take her since they are contented,
But such
rash-matches
are the soon'st repented.
Then there is one who having found a peer,
In all things worthy to be counted deer;
Wanting both
Art
and
heart
his mind to break,
Sits sighing (
woe is me
) and will not speak.
All company he hates, is oft alone,
Growes Melancholy, weeps, respecteth none;
And in despair seeks out a way to die,
When he might live and find a remedy.
But how now; wast not you (says one) that late
So humbly begged a
boone
at
beauties
gate?
Was it not you that to a female Saint
Indited your
Aretophels
complaint,
With many doleful
Sonnets,
wa'st not you?
Sure twas says he: but then how comes it now
You carpe at love thus in a
Satyrs
vain?
Take heed you fall not in her hands again,
Sure if you do, you shall in open court,
Be forced to sing a
Palinodia
for it.
What are your brains dry, or yourblood grown cold?
Or are you on a sudden waxen old?
To flout at love, which men of greatest wit,
Alow in youth as natural and fit.
What reason have you for it else? what pretence
Have you for to excuse this vild offense?
To him I answer that indeed een'e I
Was lately subject to this malady:
Likit what I now dislike; employed good times
In the composing of such idle
Rimes
As are objected: From my heart I sent
Full many a heavy sigh, and ofttimes spent
Vnmanly tears. I have, I must confess,
Thought if my
Love
smiled that no happiness
Might equalize it, and her frown much worse,
(O God forgive me) then the
Churches
curse,
I did (as some do) not much matter make,
To hazard soul and body for her sake,
Having no hope sometime I did despair,
Sometime too much built
castles
in the air,
In many a foolish humor I have been,
As well as others; look where I have seen
Her (
whom I loved
) to walk, when she was gone,
Thither I often have repaired alone:
As if I thought the places did contain,
Something to ease me (
oh exceeding vain:
)
Yet what if I have been thus idly bent,
Shall be now ashamed for to repent?
Moreover I was in my
child-hood
than,
And am scarce yet reputed for a
Man.
And therefore neither cold, nor old, nor dry;
Nor cloi'd with any foul disease am I,
'It is no such cause that made me change my mind,
But my
affection
that before was blind,
Rash and unruly, now begins to find
That it had run a large and fruitless race,
And thereupon hath given
Reason
place.
So that by
Reason,
what no
Reason
might
Perswade me from before; I have out-right,
Justly forsaken; for because I see
'Twas vain, absurd, and naught but foolery,
Yet for all this look where I loved of late,
I have not turned it in a spleen to hate:
No, for 'twas first her
Virtue
and her
Wit,
Taught me to see how much I wanted it;
Then as for
Love,
I do alow it still,
I never did dislikit nor never will;
So it be
virtuous,
and contained within,
The bounds of
Reason;
but when 'twill begin,
To run at random and her limits break;
I must, because I cannot choose but speak.
But I forget myself, wherefore am I
So tedious in my own
Apology?
It needed not at all, I will on again,
And show what kind of
Lovers
yet remain:
One sort I find yet of this loving crew,
Whose quality I think is known to few:
These seek by all the means they can to gain
Each
Virgins
liking: Sometime not in vain,
They do obtain their wish, but when tis got,
Sorry they are and wish they had it not.
For peradventure they have placit their
Love,
So as it cannot, nor it must not move
And yet if they should fail for to procure it,
'Twould grieve thē so they hardly woould endure it.
Yea though in show (at least) they have said nay,
Their
Loves
with like affection to repay,
If they perceiuit abate, as it will do,
Both this and that, doth make them sorry too.
But he that is with such a humor led,
I may be bold to term a watle-head.
More-over men in placing their affection,
Have feu'rall humors for to give direction.
Some like the
Faire,
but there's not all the grace,
She may be fair, and have a squemish face,
Some like the
wanton,
some the modest eyes,
The
pace,
or
gesture
some's affection ties.
A
smile
wins one, another's
looks
moves pity,
The next commends the lasse that's
bold
and
witty.
Again some love where they no cause can find,
But only this;
the wench they see is kind.
Yea one doth think her fair (another loathes)
Because she seems so in her gaudy clothes.
More sorts there are; but sure I am, not many
That for bare
Virtue
have affected any.
Wealth
many matches makes; but most can prove
Though it breeds
liking,
yet it wins not
love.
Then to obtain his Mistress, one man tries,
How he can stretch his wits to
Poetize:
His
Pass
•
a
•
to relate his skill he proves,
But in this blockish age it little moves;
Nor do I wonder much true meaning fails,
And wit so little in this case avails,
Since dunces can have
sannets
framed & send them,
As their inventions, when some others penned them.
Another seeks by
Valour
to obtain,
His wished prize, but now that trial's vain;
The third brings
wealth,
and if he do not speed,
The
woman's
worth the suing for indeed.
Then he that's neither valorous nor wise,
Comes ruffling in, with shameless brags and lies,
Making a stately, proud, vain-glorious show,
Of much good matter, when tis nothing so.
In steed of lands, to which he never was heir,
He tells her tales of Castles in the air,
For martial matters, he relates of fraies,
Where many drew their swords & ran their ways.
His
Poetry
is such as he can cull,
From plays he heard at
Curtain
or at
Bull,
And yet is fine coy Mistress-
Marry-Muffe,
The soonest taken with such broken stuff.
Another shallow brain hath no devise,
But prates of some strange casts he had at dice,
Brags of his play, yea sure it doth befall,
He vaunts ofttimes of that which marreth all;
But some I note (now fie on such a man)
That make themselves as like them as they can,
Thereby to win their loves; they fain their pace;
Order their looks, and strive to set their face
To look demure: Some woo by nods, and looks,
Some by their sighs, and others by their books;
Some have a nature must not be denaide,
And will grow furious if they be delaide:
Others again have such a fancy got,
If they soon speed then they esteem them not.
When women woo, some men do most affect them,
And some again for wantons do suspect them:
Besides, we see that fools themselves they make,
What toys they count of for their wenches sake;
One for some certain months, or weeks, or days,
Weares in his hat a branch of withered bayes.
Or swears for to employ his utmost power,
For to preserve some stale-neglected flower:
He wears such colors as for Lovers be,
Drinks vowed healths upon his bared knee:
Sue's mainly for a shoo-string, or doth crave her,
To grant him but a busk-point for a favor:
And then to note (as I have seen) an Ass
That by her window, whom he loves, must pass,
With what a feigned pace, the Woodcock stalks;
How skuruely he sleareth as he walks:
And if he ride, how he rebounds and trots,
As if his horse were troubled with the bots;
'Twould make one swell with laughing: In a day
He makes more errands then he needs that way,
Bearing himself as if he still espide him,
When as perhaps she flouts, or looks beside him:
Nay should I tell you all the
Vanity,
I have observed in this malady,
I should shame
Lovers,
but I will now be husht,
For had I said more I myself had blusht:
Yet know; although this passion I have tide
To love of women, it concludes beside
All whatsoever kind of loves there be,
Unless they keep the mind from trouble free,
And yield to
reason:
but of such-like
lovers,
My
Muse
hereafter other feats discovers.
OF DESIRE OR LVST.
SATYR. 2.
LVstfull desire,
(although twere rather fit.
To some
brute creature
to attribute it)
Shall in
man's
heart retain the second place;
Because it shrouds her vile deformed face
Under
Loves
vizard, and assumes that name,
Hiding her own fault with the others blame:
It is a base
passion,
from the which doth flow
Many base humors; tis the overthrow
Of all in whom it enters; 'tis an evil,
Worse then to be possessed with a devil:
This 'tis that oft hath caused public strife,
And private discord; this makes man and wife
Grow each to other cold in their affection,
And to the very marrow sends infection;
And as Physicians say, it makes the face
Look
wan, pale, yellow,
and doth much deface
The beauty of it; and as for the fight
It either
dums
it or
bereaues
it quight;
It dries the body, and from thence doth sprout
Griefes of the stomach,
leprosy
and
gout,
With other such; beside it doth decay
Not life alone, but also takes away,
Both
memory
and
understanding
toe;
So
Doctors
that have tried it, say towill do.
And which way comes that foul disease to us
We call the
French,
so vile and odious:
Ist not by
Lust?
Breed not such-like desires,
Children begotten by uncertain Syres?
Strange Generations, beds so oft defilde;
That many a father scarcely knows his child?
Or, isit not hence this common
Proverb
grows,
It is a wise child that his oane father knows?
Doth it not others reputations foil?
And them e'ne of their dearest Jewels spoil?
Yes, yes; and hence a thousand other crimes
Do daily spring, and yet in these our times
It is highly made of: yea tis
lust
doth wear
The richest garments, and hath curiou'st fare;
The softest beds it hath for to repose,
With sweet perfumes, but sure there's need of those.
Drawne in a coach it visits now and then
Some near acquaintance, mongst the Noblemen;
Yet doth it not the
Court
alone frequent,
But is ith'
City
as much resident:
Where when it walks the street it doth employ,
Either a
Prentice,
or a
roaring-boy
To vsher it along, and few disdain it,
But those unable for to entertain it.
'Twere much to note the pain that some endure,
And cost that they will be at for to procure
Their beastly wills: There's many spend their stocks
In
ruffes, gowns, kirtles, peti-coats,
and
smocks,
For which one's paid with that shall make him craul,
(If he be friended) to some
Hospital.
Another's quitted for his well-spent stuff,
By some grim
Sergeant
with a
Counter-buffe:
The last it brings, if still that course he follows,
First to the
Jail,
and so forth to the
Gallows.
And what have you observed to have been
The usual associates of this
sin?
But
filthy speeches, bold facit impudence.
Vnseemely actions, riot, negligence,
And such as these; yea to procure their lust
It makes them into any mischiefs thrust,
How hateful or apparent ere they be,
Or put in practice any villainy.
Moreover, where it enters once, the mind,
Cannot true rest, nor any quiet find.
We see it also makes them for to crave,
Not what is best, but what they long to have,
Yea,
Lust
hath many mischiefs that ensue it,
Which most men see, but few the less eschew it:
Men rather now, as if towere no offense,
Are grown to such a shameless impudence,
They vaunt and brag of their lascivious facts,
No less then some, of brave
Heroic
acts.
And not a few of this same humor be,
That would be termed the foes of
chastity.
By whom if I see ill, I will sure conceal it,
For they themselves will to their shames reveal it:
There's others who disliking so to vaunt,
Will,
si non caste, tamen caute
grant,
For that's their
Motto,
they make modest shows,
But what they do in secret, man nere knows:
Some make a Baud of their divine profession,
Like
Shauelings
in
Auricular-confession.
Th' other are bad, and sure of God accurst,
But of all others, these I deem the worst.
There's other
Gallants
would desire but this,
Without suspicion for to talk and kiss:
For other pleasures they do never crave them,
Nay if they might, they swear they will not have them
So mean, perhaps: but time brings alteration,
And a fair woman is a shrewd temptation:
Then many make their
feigned love
to be
A cloak to cover their immodestie:
These will protest and vow, and swear their life
Consists in having whom they woo, to wife,
Yet if the villains can their lust fulfill,
They will forswear them and be living still:
Some do court all, and not alone do prove,
But for because with all they are in love,
With such deep
passion,
that they cannot smother,
Their hot affection till they meet another:
But why will man against himself and
Reason,
Consent to such a Tyrant in his treason?
Why will he so his liberties forego
To be a slave to such a monstrous foe?
For what is this same passion We call
lust,
Ist not a
Brutish longing and unjust,
And foul desire of the soul, to gain
Some evil pleasure?
Or to speak more plain,
A furious burning passion, whose hot fumes
Corrupts the understanding, and consumes
The very flesb of man?
then what's the fact?
What may I term that vile and shameful act,
But this;
The execution of an ill,
Out of set purpose and with a good will,
In spite of Reason?
Tell me ist not base?
When men shall so their worthy sex disgrace,
To give their bodies in a deed unclean,
With a foul nasty prostituted queane?
Or in their understanding be so dull
As to observe on idle short-heeld trull?
A puling female
Devil
that hath smiles,
Like
Sirens
songs, and tears like
Crocadiles.
Yet there be some (I will not name them now)
Whom I have seen unto such
Puppits
bow,
And be as serviceable as a groome,
That fears another man will beg his room:
They had been glad full oft to please their pride,
With costly gifts, and forced for to abide,
Imperious scoffs, with many scornful words;
Such as the humors they are in, affords
And yet for these thei'le venter
Honors, lives;
If they command it; when for their poor
Wives:
(Though they in Beauty, love and true delight,
Exceed them more then daytime doth the night)
Theyle scarcely take upon them for to speak,
In any case of theirs their, loves so weak,
Yea and their lust doth wrap them in such blindness
They cannot give them one poor look in kindness.
Moreover for their lust they have not laid
Base plots alone, like him that was conueyd
In a close
trunk,
because in secrecy,
He would (unseen) enjoy his venery.
I say not only therein have they retcht,
Their damned inventions, It hath also stretched,
Unto
strange lusts,
of which I will not speak,
Because I may offend the mind that's weak,
Or least I to some simple one should show,
Those sins by naming, he did never know:
And here I leave: there's lurking holes such store,
This stinking
Vermin
I will hunt no more.
OF HATE.
SATYR. 3.
BVt I have rous'd another here as bad
They call it:
Hate;
A worse I never had,
Before in chase: I scarce can keep (insooth)
My self from danger of his venom'd tooth.
This is the
Passion
that doth use to move,
The mind a clean contrary way to
love;
It is an
inspiration
of the
Devil,
That makes men long for one another's evil,
It cankers in the heart, and plagueth most,
Not him thats hated, but the hateful host.
And yet theres too too many I do know,
Whose hearts with this soul poison over-flow:
Of which I have a true intelligence,
By the sharp scoffs and slanders springing thence,
For where it rules they cannot well conceal it,
But either words or deeds, or both reveal it,
Were it just causes that did still engender
This passion in them; or if they could render,
A reason fort 'twere somewhat, but their will
Carries them on in spite of
Reason
still.
These are their
humors,
for a slight offense
Thei'le hate th' offender for a recompense.
Some malice all that any way excel,
In which who thinks but they do very well,
And many have abhorred (
God amend them
)
The
stranger
that did never yet offend them:
Which they are not ashamed for to confess,
Yet in their hate continue ner'e the less,
But though that they can yield no reason why,
They bear them causeless malice, yet can I:
Their hearts are il, and it is seldom known,
That a sweet bro
•
ke from bitter springs hath flown:
Theres some to when they see a man respected
More then themselves, though they be not neglected,
They inly grudge, and outwardly disdain,
Being alike condition'd as was
Cain,
Some hate their friends that love and count them dear,
As by the sequel plainly shall appear;
One that a seeming friendship had professed me,
Upon a time did earnestly request me
That I would plainly my opinion show,
What I of his conditions thought or knew;
And that I would without exceptions tell,
What acts of his did not become him well.
I
scorning flattry, with a loving heart,
Twixt him and me my mind did soon impart;
And as a friend, that is unfeigned, ought,
Left nothing vnreueald of what
I
thought,
Yea without fear I boldly reprehended,
If
I
perceiud he any way offended,
Provided always that I did not swerve,
From a
decorum
fitting to observe,
But mark Mans nature: he perceiving
I
Had taken note of some infirmity,
He would not have vnript; And seeing toe,
I espide more then he wisht I should do
Of his ill humors; (though I must confess)
Being my friend I loved him nothing less;
In steed of thanks and liking for my pains,
My company and sight he now refraines;
And for my kindness like a thankless mate,
Doth ill repay me with a loathing hate.
This one I know, and by that one I find,
That there be many bear as bad a mind,
But let us for their true conversion pray,
For we alas may very justly say.
Quod nulla est in terra Charitas,
Et Odium parit ipsa Veritas.
Again the wicked hates beyond all measure
The righteous man, that contradicts his pleasure;
And that's the fundamental cause I know,
That many men do hate their teachers so:
These common humors are observed of few,
Yet may a young experience find them true.
And boldly say that all in whom th'are found,
Have poisoned hearts polluted and unsound,
But they corrupted above all the rest,
Which hate their friends they should account of best
But let
Men
strive and study to remove
This
passion
from their hearts and graff on
Love.
Let them not harbor such a hellish sin,
Which being entered marreth all within;
Nor let them think my counsel merits laughter,
Since Scripture says,
to hate our brother's slaughte
•
OF ENVY.
SATYR. 4
THen some enuenom'd with an envious touch,
Think everything their neighbor hath to much▪
O Lord say they (if in the field they be)
What goodly corn, and well-fed beasts hath he?
(If in the house)
they never in their lives,
Saw fairer women then their neighbors wives:
It is pity she that puts so many down,
Should be embraced by so rude a clown:
That house is too well furnished, or doth stand,
Better then his, or it hath finer land:
This farm hath profits more then his by much,
For wood and water he had never such.
Yea so he grudges inwardly and frets
At every good thing that his neighbor gets:
Of these besides there are that when they see,
Any beloved, or in favor be,
Especially in
Courts,
and great men's houses,
Then the heart swelleth, and the Envious rouses,
Ne're resting till that like a spiteful else,
He do displace them or disgrace himself.
Now some are in the mind that
hate
and This,
Still go together and one
Passion
is;
Indeed, they soul injurious
Humors
be,
So like, they seem to have
Affinitee:
But if 'twere so, me thinks betwixt them both,
There should arise more wrangling them there doth,
So tis with
kinsmen,
they envy the good
Of those that are the same in flesh and blood.
But here may be the difference, and it shall
Hate doth extend to some, and this
•
o all:
Yet envious men do least spite such as be
Of ill report, or of a low degree:
But rather they do take their aim at such,
Who either
well-be-loved
are, or
rich:
And therefore some do fitly liken these,
Unto those flies we term
Cantharides:
Cause for the most part they alight on none,
But on the flowers that are fairest blown:
Or to the boisterous wind which sooner grubs
The stately
Cedar
then the humble shrubs:
But yet that sometimes shakes the bush below,
And moves the leaf that's
Wither'd
long ago:
As if he had not shown sufficient spite,
Unless it also could orewhelme him quite
And bury it in earth; So I have found,
The blast of
envy
flies as low's the ground.
And though it hath already brought a man
Even unto the meanest state it can,
Yet tis not satisfied, but still devising,
Which way it also may disturb his rising,
This I know true; or else it could not be
That any man should hate or envy me,
Being a creature, (one would think) that's plast
Too low for to be touched with
envies
blast,
And yet I am; I see men have espi'd,
Some-thing in me too, that may be enui'd;
But I have found it now: and know the matter.
The reason, they are rich and ile not flatter:
Yes and because they see that I do scorn,
To be their slave whose equal I am borne,
I heard (although 'twere spoken in a cloud)
They censure that my knowledge makes me proud,
And that I reach so far beyond my calling,
They every hour do expect my falling:
With many a prayer, and prognostication
To show their love not worthy Revelation,
But what care I; to quit their good surmising,
I do desire my fall may be their rising.
Which say should once be, as I hope twill never,
I trust to God it shall not be forever;
And for because I know it cannot be,
Much lower then it is, it greeues not me,
And where they say my wit augments my pride,
My conscience tells me that I am belide:
For knowledge of my
wants
doth grieve me so,
I have small joy to boast of that I know.
But let them scandal as I hear they do,
And see whose lot the shame will fall unto;
The shafts are aimed at me, but I will reject them,
And on the shooters too, perhaps reflect them,
I care not for their envy, since they show it;
Nor do I fear their malice, now I know it:
For to prevent the venom of their throat,
I will of this poison make an
Antidote:
And their presaging (though it be abuse)
I hope will serve me to an excellent use;
For where before I should have took no heed,
Their words shall make me circumspect indeed.
Yea I will be more careful to do well,
Which were a plague as bad for them as
hell.
Some I do know, yea too too well I know them,
And in this place do a remembrance owe them,
These; when that through their envy they intend,
To bring one out of favor with his friend,
Will make as though they some great vices knew,
That he is guilty of, and not a few:
Theile shake their heads, as if they did detest
The course he follows; and that not in jest.
If to the
Father
they dispraise the son,
It shall be slily, indirectly done:
And thus (I hope) there's some will understand,
He lives I tell you at a s
•
cond hand.
Should I say all I know, 'twould much offend you,
But more such children I pray God neu'r send you,
With other words of doubt to breed suspicion,
But dare not (being of a base condition)
To name them any fault: And good cause why,
It may be prou'd unto their shames a lie;
Now tis a quality I do despise,
As such a one doth him whom he envies,
If therefore any do that love profess me,
Lord from their friendship I beseech thee bless me,
Some crafty ones will honor to their face,
Those whom they dare not openly disgrace:
Yet under-hand, their fames they'll undermine,
As lately did a seeming friend of mine;
They'l sow their
slanders
as if they with grief,
Were forced to speak it: or that their unbelief
Were loath to credit it, when 'tis well known,
The damned invention was at first their own:
Some do not care how grossly they dispraise,
Or how unlikely a report they raise;
Because they know if 't be so false an ill,
That one believes it not, another will;
And so their envy very seldom fails,
But one way or another, still prevails:
Oh villanous conceit! an engin bent
To overthrow the truest innocent;
For well they know, when onee a slander's sown,
And that a false report abroad is blown,
Though they would wipe it out; yet they can never,
Because some scar will stick behind forever.
But what is this, that men are so inclind
And subject to it? how mayit be defined?
Sure if the same be rightly understood,
It is a grief that springs from others good.
And vexes them if they do but hear tell,
That other men's endeavors prosper well,
It makes them grieve when any man is friended,
Or in their hearing praised, or commended,
Contrariwise again, such is their spite:
In other men's misfortunes they delight;
Yea, notwithstanding it be not a whit
Unto their profit, not their benefit,
Others prosperity doth make them lean,
Yea it devoureth and consumes them clean:
But if they see them in much grief, why that
Doth only make them iocund, full and fat;
Of Kingdoms ruin they best love to hear,
And tragical reports do only cheer
Their hellish thoughts: And then their bleared eyes
Can look on nothing but black infamies,
Reprochful actions, and the foulest deeds,
Of shame, that man's corrupted nature breeds:
But they must wink when
Virtue
shineth bright,
For fear her luster mar their weakened sight.
They do not love
Encomiastick
stories.
Or for to read their predecessors glories;
For good report to all men they deny,
And both the living and the dead envy:
Yea many of them▪ I do think had rather
Loose all good fame then shareit with their own father.
The biting
Satyr
they do only like,
And that at some particulars must strike,
Or all's worth norhing: if they can apply
Some part of
this
to him they do envy,
As well perhaps they may, then theil commend it,
And spite of their ill natures, I that pend it,
Shall have some thank, but why? not cause they deem
Me, or my writing either worth esteem:
No, here's the reason they thy labor like.
They think I mean him, then suppose I strike:
Now whose endeavors think you prosper should,
If the event of things were as these would?
(No man can answer that, for it's unknown)
Nor parents, no nor children's, scarce their own:
(I say) their own hand-works are seldom free,
But subject to their proper envies be:
'Witness a certain rich-man, who of late
'Much pitying a Neighbors woeful state,
'Put to his helping hand, and set him clear
'From all his former misery and fear:
'But when he saw that through his thrift, and heed,
'He had well cured again his former need,
'And grew to pretty means, though he no whit
'Vnthankfull was for this his benefit:
'Yet, being of a nature that did long,
'And joy, to see another's case go wrong,
'Having no second cause; much grieved now,
'That he once helped him; all his study's how,
'To ruinate the poor man's state again,
'And make through
Envy
his own labor vain.
I wonder men should so from reason
range,
Or entertain a humor that's so strange
And so unprofitable, tell me why,
Should we the honors, or the wealth envy
Of other men? if we delight to see,
Our brethren when in evil case they be,
Lets wish them Riches, Titles, and promotion,
Twill make them greedy, proud, & choke devotion,
Twill plunge them in a flood of misery,
In the respect of which, the beggary
We think so vile, is heaven, Yea I know,
It is a thousand more men's overthrow
Then Poverty can be. That if we hate,
Or would envy who are in happy state,
In my opinion they must not be such
That titles have attained, or to be rich;
No, poor men rather, who are combred less,
And have indeed the truest happiness.
But be they rich or no, I pass not whether,
For my part, I am sure, I envy neither,
So I but reach the glory I desire,
I do not care how many mount up higher;
And if I want not, what hurt is'
•
to me,
If I the poorest in the kingdom be?
Yet from this Passion, I believe not many
Can be exempted, if there may be any:
But sure more mischief always doth betide
Th' envious then to him that is enuide;
And they have often, (who would then bemoan?)
Lost both their eyes to lose their neighbor one:
Yea there is many a periur'd envious
Noddy;
Damnes his own soul to hurt his neighbors body.
But now such men may best by this be known,
They'le speak in no man's praise but in their own,
And in their presence but commend a man,
They'l from his worth detract eu'n all they can:
So do the foul mouthed
Zoili,
spiteful
Momes,
Whose eyes on every new penned treatise romes.
Not for their own avail or benefit;
To feed their humors by disgracing it,
They rather seek: and that they'll disallow
Which they would mend themselves, if they knew how:
But what are they that keep this censuring court,
None I will assure you of the wisest sort;
None of the wisest said I: yet content ye,
They are a great way past
Ass in presenti;
And think themselves, (but thought sometime is free)
A great deal wiser then indeed they be,
For howsoever their insinuation
Hath gained a little vulgar reputation,
They are but
glow-worms
that are briske by might,
And never can be seen when sun gives light;
Ill tongue'd and envious, ignorant of shame,
And vile detractors of another's fame;
But let them carp on, what need any care;
Simce they are known for fools without compare;
But fellow
Christians,
think upon this evil,
Know 'tis an instigation of the
Devil,
Remember 'tis a known apparent foe
To
Charity;
and friendships overthrow.
A vicious humor, that with
Hell
acquaints,
And hinders the
communion of Saints:
Consider that, and how it makes unable,
To be partaker of the holy
Table.
And so I trust you will root it from the heart,
And, as the Apostle counsels,
lay apart
Dissembling, Envy, Slander, Malice, Guile;
And
Euil-speaking
as most bad and vile.
Chiefely in those men, whose
Religion
saith,
Her mainest pillar, is
True-love,
next
Faith.
OF REVENGE.
SATYR. 5.
ROome for
Reuenge,
he's no
Commedian
That acts for pleasure, but a grim
Tragedian,
A foul stern monster, which if we displease;
Death, wounds and blood,
or nothing can appease;
So wicked that though all good men disdain it,
Yet there are many rashly entertain it,
And hug it as a sweet contented
Passion:
But all men act not in one kind, nor fashion,
For one so private is, that no man knows it;
Another cares not, before whom he shows it,
Then some of them are fearful, some are bolder,
Some are too hot, and some again are colder:
Oh, I have seen, and laughed at heart to seeit,
Some of our hot-spurs drawing in the street,
As though they could not
Passions
rage withstand▪
But must betake them to it out of hand.
But why ith' street?
Oh company doth heart them,
And men m
•
y see their valorous acts and part them.
That humor yet, I rather do commend
Then theirs whose fury hath no stay nor end;
Till of their lives they have bereft their foes,
And then they think they pay them; yet who b
••
knows▪
That tis a small revenge? since to be slain,
Is to be free from danger, care and pain.
So whilst his enemy lies and feels no smart,
He hath a thousand tortures in his heart.
And say his conscience do escape a flaw,
He brings himself in danger of the Law.
If such revenge be sweet sure I will forgive,
And never seek for vengeance whilst I live.
But oh (me thinks) I here our
Hacsters
tell me,
With thundering words, as if their breath would fell me:
I am a
Coward
if I will not fight,
True,
Cauelieroes
you hane spoke the right,
And if upon good terms you urge me to it,
I have both strength and heart enough to do it,
Which you should find; and yet my mind is still,
Rather to defend myself then kill.
But most men think, that he which kills his foe;
Is most courageous: now I tell thee no:
For he that hath a heart that fact to do,
Is both a
Tyrant
and a
Coward
toe.
But how is he a
Coward
some will ask?
To answer that is but an easy task,
Thus he is one: He having by his might,
A power on him with whom he haps to fight:
Thinkes if he spare his life, in such a case,
He one day may revenge his foul disgrace;
That thought with fear, of future dangers fills him,
Which to prevent, he like a
Coward
kills him.
But those that justly in excuse can say,
For present safety, they were forced to slay,
I must count blameless. Thou that hast a
Foe,
Seek not to be his woeful overthrow.
Rather ifit may be keep him living still;
I tell thee 'tis a necessary ill,
(inimicus amicus)
My self have some, their lives I do no grutch,
For they have done me service very much;
And will do still for wheresoere I go,
They make me careful what I speak, or do:
And when I step aside I here on it roundly,
Or (as themselves say) they will telit me soundly.
Whereas my friend, til I were quite undone,
Would let me still in mine own follies run,
Or if he warn me it is so in sport,
That I am scarce a whit the better sort.
But this same good, I know but few can use,
Because that they do better things abuse.
Mans nature's ill, and I have noted this,
If they upbraided bewith what's amiss
They cannot brook it, but are readier still,
For to revenge that, then amend what's ill.
We must not now our lusty-bloods gain-say,
No not so much as in a yea, or nay;
But presently we die for it
(if we will)
They have both hand, and heart prepared to kill.
Let them but think a man to them injurious,
Although he be not so, thei'le straight grow furious
And are so quickly up in a brauado,
They are for nothing but the
imbrocado:
And in this humor they respect not wheither,
They be unto them friends, or foes, or neither;
All are alike; and their hot choller ends,
Not only love, and friendship, but their friends:
I know 'twere vain if I should tell to these
The peaceful mind of ancient
Socrates:
Or if I should
Lycurgus
vengeance show,
How he behau'd himself unto his foe,
•
Twere but in vain (I say) for there's no doubt,
Our watle-headed
Gallants
would but flout
At their well tempred passions; since they deem,
None now but fools, or mad-men, worth esteem
•
But whats the cause of their unbridled rage?
Oh know it is a humor of their age,
For to be foolish desperate; and many
Account not of him will not fight with any
On the least quarrel. Therefore most to gain,
A little fame that way, though nere so vain,
Will put their lives in danger: nay there's some,
Had rather have it then the life to come,
Alas poor men, what hath bewitched your mind?
How are you grown so senseless and so blind,
For to affect vain shadows and let slide,
The true substance, as a thing vnspide?
•
s
Reason
in you grown so great a stranger,
To suffer an
affection
of such danger
To settle in you? Bannishit from your breast,
And there let
Mercy
and
Forgiveness
rest:
•
t is a token of a human mildness,
But
vengeance
is a sign of
Bruitish
wildnes:
Not fitting any but the
Tiger, Bear,
•
r su
•
h like creatures, that remorslesse tear
What ere they light on. Cast it from you then,
•
e in condition as in shape y'are
men;
And stand vnmoou'd, for
Innocence
ere long,
Will show her self abroad in spite of wrong:
And of your
Patience
you shall not repent,
But be avenged to your own content:
Yet some may say the Counsel I have given,
Is hard to follow, strict, and too uneven,
And whatsoever show I seem to make,
Such as myself would hardly undertake.
Know you that think so; I am not afraid.
If that it be a burden I have laid,
To bearit myself; Nay, I have undergone
If this be hard, a more uneasy one:
For but of late, a friend of mine in show,
Being (indeed) a spiteful secret foe,
I know not why, (for I did never in ought
Wrong him I am sure; no not in an ill thought.)
Yet this man having wisely watched his Time,
When I (a stranger, in another
Clime
)
Left my own Country; did mean while repair,
To my best friends, and with dissemblings fair,
And shows of love and grief, did there unfold,
The grosest slander, ever Villaine told.
A dam'nd invention so exceeding vile,
That gallants 'twould have made your blood to boil
And out of your abused bodies start,
I know it would have broken veins or heart:
I say if you had felt that cruel sting,
You would have fret, fum'd, stamped, done anything
Or angry rag'd like mad-men in their fit,
Till merciless
Reuenge,
had quenched it:
But what did I? at first I must confess,
I was a little moved, who could be less?
But when I felt my troubled thoughts begin
To join with brutish
Passion
within,
And raise disquiet humors in my breast,
I feared if I should yield 'twould mar my rest.
And therefore to myself I
Patience
took,
Which whilst I have about me I can brook
Any misfortune. Then that
Patience,
Grew so much stronger through my
Innocence
That I forgot both wrong and vengeance too;
Some think 'twas cause that I lackit
Might
to do
The hurt I would; No, it was only
Will
For I had power enough to do him ill;
•
t is well known the
coward
dares not stand
T' abide the
Vengeance
of my wronged hand
Were his strength tripled; Nay were I in bands
Of impotency wrapped, and had no hands,
Yet I have friends (whom if I had not prayed
And begged unto, to have their fury stai'd)
Had chopped him, and made dogs meat for my sake
Of his vile Carkas; yea and he would quake,
A twelve-month after, had he but the daring,
To think upon the
vengeance
was preparing
For that lewd slanderous tale of his; which he
Might better raise on one unborn then me:
Now though that course my
Reason
did gain-say,
I was allowed Reuenge a better way,
Both
Law
add
Justice,
proffered me a scourge,
To whip him for it, which my friends did urge:
Showing me motives to allure me to it:
Yet still was I unwilling for to do it:
For though I might (beside submission) gain,
No little sums; my heart doth much disdain,
For to increase my substance through his shame,
Or raise it with the ruins of my fame:
Now for because there's some may think I fain,
Or speak a matter framed by mine own brain:
Know, this
back-biter lives
and may do long
To do me more, and many others wrong:
And though I do not mind to stain my verse,
The name of such a Monster to rehearse,
For others satisfaction and to grace it,
Upon the Margent here I thought to place it:
But that perhaps would Vengeance counted be,
Whereas it shall not be reueng'd for me:
Yet
Gallants
you may see I wish you to
No other thing, then I myself would do,
You hear that I was wronged, and yet withstood
My own mad
Passion
in the heat of blood:
And am not I in as good case as those,
That have reueng'd themselves with stabs & blows
In my opinion it is as well,
As if that I should pack his soul to hell
With danger of mine own; and here remain,
To grieve and wish he were alive again;
Nay now tis best, for why, he may repent,
And I with a safe conscience live content:
Ther's some (perhaps) misdeem'd my innocence,
Because they saw that I with
Patience
Indur'd the wrong: tis thought that I did know,
My self in fault, because I took it so.
Indeed tis true, I let him scot-free pass,
What should I do unto him? say an Ass
Had struck me with his heels; how should I qui
•
The harm he doth me? you would blame my wit
If I should kill him; If I went to law
Who would not count me the most asse? a daw;
The worst of fools; I pray what were I less,
If I had donit to his unworthiness?
One that's more ignorant of his offense,
And seems as if he had no spark nor sense
Of human goodness: one, whom if I touch,
Or offer to lay hands on, tis as much,
As if I in my anger would begin
To break the stool that erst had broke my shin.
I knew in this, and that, the case was one,
And therefore I did let
Reuenge
alone:
Yet will I note him, for this cause indeed,
That other men may know him and take heed:
And therefore mark,
the greatest feast ith' year
And ioyfullest his name at full doth bear.
A sacred syllable makes the first part;
Which since tis there alone, and not in's heart:
Take it from thence with the ensuing letter,
And the remainder will befit him better:
Hereof enough; for why there doth remain,
Some more of these mad humors to explain,
Besides those I first named; for their brother,
They cannot their Reuengefull Nature smother;
And for because they dare not deal with swords:
Like valiant Champions fight it out with words.
Such fraies have made me oftentimes to smile,
And yet they prove shrewd combats other while,
For from such braules do sudden stabs arise,
And sometime in revenge the quart-pot flies;
Join-stools, and glasses makes a bustling rumor:
Yea this is grown a Gentleman-like humor:
But in my mind, he that so well can fight,
Deserues for to be dubd an
Ale-house knight:
Ist not a shame that men should at their meeting,
Welcome each other with a friendly greeting,
As I have seen, and yet before they part,
Bandy their swords at one another's heart?
Wondrous inhumane, the Sauage bore,
The wild
Armenean
herds will do no more:
Sure such believe not it is God hath said,
Vengeance is his and must by him be paid.
For if they did I think there would not be,
Such carvers for themselves: But we may see,
The Devil doth so much possess them than,
They have no honest thought of God or Man.
As in this
Humor
you shall seeit explained,
Two falling out, would fight, but are restrained:
Yet still they strive to be each others fall,
Which shows their love to man-kind none at all:
But curbed of their wills through standers by,
Forth breaks their fury, and they straight let fly,
Such horrid, bloody, fearful cannon oaths,
As theirs no honest Christian ear but loathes,
Almost to hear them named they seem to tear
Christ's
Man-hood piece-meal from him when they swear
For
foot, heart, nails,
still using God withal
Their foul-mouthed-rackets like a tennis ball
Doth bandy too and fro:
His blood
and
wounds,
Set forth their vaunts they think with brauest sounds,
And makes the simple people to admire;
Their courage which is but as a flame on fire.
Thrice valiant Champions whereby should one gather
They have a thought of God that's good? but rather
That they are vile blasphemers; for when they
Cannot have
Vengeance
they desired, why,
As if they scorned th' Almighty's fearful rod,
Thus think they to avenge themselves on God,
Who were he not as merciful as just,
Might with a blast consume them into dust.
OF CHOLLER.
SATYR. 6.
BVt now the cause of men's
Reuengefull thirst,
Proceeds from rash unbridled
choller first:
Which
Passion
flows from imbecility,
And brings us unto much absurdity:
Yea those that are infected with this crime,
Are in a manner mad-men for the time:
'It is a short
Fury,
where-with man possessed
Resembles most a wild untamed beast:
It makes him foolish, quite besides his wit,
Doing and speaking many a thing unfit.
Those men in whom I find this
Passion
reign,
I have oft seen to storm for things but vain,
Yea, and as if they had some grievous cross
Chafe out of measure for a penny loss,
And fret as much in loosing of some toy
As if therein consisted all their joy:
This too I noted in a
Chollerick man,
(Let any one disprove me if he can)
They are not only apt for to believe,
Any report that may occasion give;
But in light matters if they should contend,
Would pick a quarrel with their dearest friend:
Yea I have seen where friends, nay more, where brothers
That should & have been dearer far thē others:
These I have known in choller e'ne like foes.
Mingling sharp words, with far more sharpened blows.
When they are in their fit they do not spare,
Any degree; No reverence, nor care
Doth then remain; Thei'le speak though they be sure,
Their heedless words, not foes alone procure,
But loose their friends: nor do they in that case,
Respect the Time, the company, nor place:
Besides there is this oversight in some,
Where
Choller
doth the
Reason
overcome:
They do not only blame him that offends,
But are displeased even with their friends,
And all that are in presence or in view;
I have observed it often to be true:
Then if that any should but tell these men,
Their anger were without just Reason, then,
Although it be so and thy know it right,
Their fury is the more increased with spite:
They cannot brook
•
ontroule, nor yet can they
Endure that a man should nothing say,
For then indeed tis presently suspected,
He cares not, and his anger is neglected:
And in some
Masters
I have noted this,
Wherein they do in my conceit amiss:
If they but think their servant doth offend,
He must not his suspected crime defend,
Guilty or no; but yield it an offense
As if men still were slaves; but surely hence,
Springs this abuse, in whom this humor passes:
Choller bears sway, and they are wayward Asses:
Who though they have read some strict rules in
Cat
•
Were never Scholars, to diuiner
Plato:
Oh
Anger
is a wondrous headstrong
Passion,
That hath a beastly, frantic operation;
From which, how can we any man release
Since we must neither speak, nor hold our peace?
Some will be angry, if they cannot make,
Another their opinions for to take.
Others have meanings but they cannot show them,
Yet are displeased, with those that do not know
And I have seen (that anger may be holy) them:
A good man moved for another's folly;
Yet in such cases let not any chafe,
But pray (as I do) they may mend and laugh;
Me thinks they should be men unfit to wield
The sword of Justice that do basely yield,
Unto so brute a passion; yet have we
Some Governors that over-ruled be
By this, and worse affections; yea some now
Have charge of others, that do worse know how
To guide themselves: the angry
Magistrate,
To be aueng'd on him whom he doth hate,
For private causes draws the public sword,
And all the Rigor that the laws afford
Must serve his
Choller;
such there be, so many
You cannot miss one, though I name not any.
Now diverse do affirm such men as be
Hasty,
(so they term this infirmity)
Are the best natured: who that lesson taught?
If they be best I will swear the best be naught:
Moreover there be many do suppose,
It is a sign of courage; what mean those?
Where is their judgments? they me thinks should gather
That it were
weakness
did produce it rather,
Or else why should the feeble and the sick,
Women and children be most chollerick?
Again there's some (whose judgment is as rude)
Do think that
Anger
quickens
fortitude:
But that's a virtue surely will deny,
With such a
Vice
to have affinity:
Thou that hast judgment, tell me, can it be,
That
Fortitude
and
Anger
may agree?
I think it not, for why, the one is steady,
And ruled by reason, toother rash and heady:
The one doth nothing but on consultation,
The other cannot take deliberation:
And therefore if that we be well aduis'd,
It is a humor ought to be despised:
And though some thence much help may seem to gather,
To whet on
Fortitude,
it hinders rather:
Yea tis a strange unreasonable
Passion,
That brings the owner clean beside all fashion;
Making him speak if ought but discontent him,
Yea do the thing of which he shall repent him,
And of a friend if I might chuser be:
I'd rather have a man that's mad then he:
Some say 'tis inflamation of the blood,
And may with careful heed be soon withstood;
But their's so few that seek to stop this ill,
That most do let it run at random still:
And very faintly yield to the invasion
Of this wild
Passion,
on the least occasion,
But he indeed that would a medcine find
For this disease, must have a settled mind,
Not giving credit unto all reports▪
Nor yet delighting in vain toys, nor sports:
On dogs, or hawks his mind must not be set,
So much, as for their loss to chafe or fret:
He should not fancy fuch fond idle trash,
But ever taking heed of being rash;
Athenodorus
good advice embrace,
And follow
Cotis
that wise King of
Thrace,
Whereby he best shall quench this
Passions
tinder,
And many an
Angry
fumish fit may hinder.
OF IEALOVSIE.
SATYR. 7
BVt though these
angry-ones
soon breed a brawl
And are pernicious to converse with-all.
Not one
•
ot better is the
jealous-head,
That thinks his friend, and's wife are still a-bed:
This
Passion,
(as it plainly doth appear)
Proceeds out of a too-much
love
with
fear;
Love
in a match procures the highest bliss,
That for us men on earth ordained is:
But add a
fear
of loosing of our joy,
And that we love so dearly, 'twill destroy
All our delights; and strewing good with ill,
Makes that seem lost which we have with us still:
Thus doth it often with the
Iealous
prove,
Who careful in the choosing of his
love,
Hath gotten her that is not fair alone;
But modest, wise, and courteous, hating none,
Nor yet affecting any but her peer,
For which good parts, her husband counts her deer,
As well he may, her virtues he will uphold,
Dares swear she will not be allured with gold.
Honor, nor beauty; but as she is chaste
So he's persuaded will be to the last;
And to himself so well he seems to thrive,
He thinks his own the happiest choice alive,
'It is good: Thus for no hurt, he wiued well;
But soft there, there is an after part to tell;
This man when he by daily proof doth see,
His wife no other then a wife should be,
It so augments his
Love
to that extreme,
He knows not if he be awake or dream;
Now doth this
Love
(for
Love
will ever do it)
For a Companion take in
Fear
unto it;
A
fear
of loosing what he loves so much;
And then the nature of this
fear
is such,
That it begets
suspect;
which creeping in
Doth by a little at the first begin
To make him doubt his spouse doth loosely live;
Whereto upon a slight report to give
Firme credence he seems loath; but yet ere long
He doth (but) think perhaps she doth him wrong,
Which if he do, that one false thought's enough,
To give all former truths the overthrow,
And why?
Suspect
grows thereupon so great,
See thrusts true judgment, quite besides her seat:
Which being done, then straight begins to wane,
The good conceit he of his bliss had tane;
For if his friend doth to his house repair,
He thinks tis only, cause his wife is fair:
But ifit be strangers, he durst pawn his life,
There's some compact between them & his wife:
Yea though their business to himself he find,
He thinks tis b
•
t a hood to keep him blind;
Then all the sweet he had is turned to sour,
Faine would he think well, but hath not the pour;
Much care torments his heart, and yet he will,
Be prying farther to increase it still:
Yea, he will seek, although he truly know,
The more he seeks, the more he finds his woe:
Beside, suspect receiveth in the head,
All things that may be mis-interpreted,
And the best thought her virtue's like to win
Is only this:
It seru'd to cloak her sin.
In brief, his liking thus he marreth quight,
And there he loath's where once he took delight;
But wherefore? Only cause he doth mistrust,
And not on any proof, that she's unjust:
Vnhappy woman haplesly to wed
So mere a sot, and such a Iealous head;
An owl-eyed buzzard, that by day is blind,
And sees not things apparent; yet can find
That out which never was. The fear to loose
The Jewel he above all Iemms did choose,
That fear, I say, of wit doth so bereave him,
He thinks that's gone which means not yet to leave him:
Oh foolish man, that having gained a bliss,
Doost makit a curse by using it amiss,
If judgment be not blinded in thee? look;
Try if thou hast not all this while mistook:
Is not thy wife still fair? and to the eye
Seemes she not yet to have that modesty,
Thou didst commend her for? Is she not wary
With whom she walks, or speaks, or where to tarie?
Is she not still as willing for to please;
As loving toe, as in her former days?
In show he sees it, but he thinks 'tis fein'd,
Out blockish dolt that art most justly pained:
Thou but a few supposed shadows hast,
That makes thee to account thy wife unchaste,
But many firm substantial proofs make clear,
That she's vnstain'd, and ought to be as dear
As e're she was; Why should an ill in thee
Make her seem so, unless she evil be?
A woman that is fair, shall much be viewed,
And have perhaps vnlookit for favors showed,
She shall be courted where she will or no,
Nay be resorted to; and though she show
Scarcely so much as common curtesies
She shall be censured by misjudging eyes,
And false reports will fly; But what of this?
Shall he that hath had trial what she is,
And never saw ought amiss, shall he, I say,
Cast all the good conceit he had away;
And straight grow jealous, trusting the surmise
Of the lewd
vulgar
more then his own eyes?
It were mad folly; and yet I do know
Some that are thus besotted, more's their woe.
And pity 'twere but they had horned him,
Wereit not a greater pity so to sin:
Should you but sit with such a one at table,
To hold from laughter you were scarcely able,
To see what note the Iealous wood-cock-takes,
Of his Wives words, and every look she makes,
In what a fear he eats his meat, and drinks:
What signs he uses, how he nods and winks,
With twenty scurvy gestures; though he see
No reason he should so suspicious be:
Now some have cause enough, but that's all one;
Why should men strive to hold what will be gone,
Vexing themselves so for another's ill,
Which they can never help? Let him that will:
But this is true, to seek for to restrain
A woman's will, is labor spent in vain;
And he that tries to do it, might have been,
One of the crew that bedg'd the Cuckow in.
Why should a man go put himself to pain,
As some have done, a journey for to fain?
And then at night come lurk about his house,
Where, be it but the stirring of a mouse
He doth observe it: wherefore doth he so?
Since if thereby he ought amiss doth know,
The greatest good that he shall thereby find,
Is more vexation to molest his mind:
For then the mischief he but feared before,
He's certain of, and need not doubt it more:
A goodly meed, but sure those wretched elues,
Take pleasure in tormenting of themselves;
They hearken, watch, set spies, and always long
To hear some tales or inkling of their wrong:
And he that can but whisper some such fable,
Shall be the welcome'st guest that sits at table,
Though it be never so false; they love so well
To feel the Torture of this earthly hell:
But I do muse what devil keeps their heart,
They should affect the causers of their smart;
Those ever-buzzing-deadly-stinging flies;
Those that of
Echoes
only can devise
A formal Lie. What ifit be true they say?
It is a means to draw thy love away
From her thou ow'st it to; and that's a crime,
Cause she must be thy best beloved a time,
Better or worse, be sure thou must abide her,
Till from thyself the death of one devide her:
Then tell me were it not by much less pain;
A good opinion of her to retain?
Could'st thou not be contented by thy will,
At least to think that she were honest still?
Yes sure in heart thou wouldest be glad,
Unless that thou wert void of sense, or mad:
Why shake off all these claw-backs then that use
Thy soon-believing-heart for to abuse;
For (trust me) they, are but some spiteful elues,
Who cause they have not the like bliss themselves
Would fain mar thine; or else I dare be bold,
If thou the truth couldst warily unfold,
They are some lust-stung Villaines, that did court
Thy honest wife to some unlawful sport:
And finding her too-chaste to serve their turn,
Whose evil hearts with foul desires did burn,
To spite her (being far more evil doers,
Then
Daniel's
elders, fair
Susannaes
woers)
To thee they do accuse her of an ill,
Whereto they sought for to allure her will:
Nay, this I wish thee whatsoever he be,
That of such dealings first informeth thee;
Believe him not what proofs so ere he bring.
Do not give ear to him for anything:
And though he be the nearest friend thou hast,
From such like knowledge shut all
sense
up fast;
Flye and avoid him as thou wouldst the Devil,
Or one that brings thee messages of evil:
Let him be to thee as thy deadliest foe,
A
fury,
or someone thou loathe'st to know;
And be assured what soere he shows,
He is no friend of thine that brings that news,
So if that thou wert his most deadly foe,
For any wrong i
•
were revenge enough.
Now some men I have noted love as well,
The husbands faults unto the wife to tell,
And aggravate them to: as if thereby
They either meant to feed their
Jealousy,
Or else stir up their unbeseeming hates,
Against their guiltless well-beloved mates:
But of these monsters (fairest sex) beware
Of their insinuations have a care:
Believe them not they will coin tales untrue,
To sow foul strife betwixt your loves and you
Out of ill-will: or else here is my
doom,
They hope to get into your husbands
room
By the advantage of the discontent
They'll work in you, But their intent
They'l soe disguise, that you shall never spy them▪
Til you are snar'd too fast for to deny them:
But oh you
Creatures
that for excellence,
Have
reasonable
for a difference,
Avoid this passion; If your wives be ill,
Advise them well, but let them have their will,
For curbing makes them worse, and their condition
Indeed is such they cannot brook
suspicion;
Restraine them not I say, for as the powder,
Being fast stopped makes the report the louder,
Sending the bullet with the greatest force,
So he
•
at seeks to bar a woman's course,
Makes her more eager, and can never out-strive her,
But on she will because the Devil doth drive her.
Let those that are so matched then patience take,
And there are none shall know their heads do ache,
But beware chiefly that no false surmises,
Or flying tale some envious head devises,
Make them to wrong their chaste and modest wives,
Who have with virtue led unspotted lives,
For though some stand vnmoou'd for thats the way,
To make a woman soonest go astray:
But now I think on it, I do wonder why,
The greatest part brand him with infamy,
That is a
Cuckold?
Since that all men know,
It is not his offense that he is so,
I never heard a reason fort it'h Schools,
Yet sure tis this,
the greatest part are fools:
But now I will conclude these
I ealous humors,
Which part I found b'experience, part by
rumors;
I feel it not, yet know it is a smart
That plagues the mind and gripes the very heart,
Yet I could wish but for the others sake,
Their
thought-tormenting-pain
might never slake;
For there's none
jealous,
I durst pawn my li
•
e,
But he that hath defiled another's wife.
OF COVETOVSNES.
SATYR. 8.
BVt of that
Passion
how mist I to tell,
The
same
that brings her Pedigree from
hell?
Cal'd
Avarice,
a humor
vile
and
base,
And yet as common as to have a face:
I muse it scapit, I say, since I will be plain,
I look not up but see where it doth reign;
Many I know, and yet indeed but few,
That can this
slavish dunghill-vice
eschew;
I neither can excuse sex nor degree,
Young folks, nor such as middle-aged be:
Nay I perceive them given most to crave,
When they had need to dig themselves a grave,
Like
earth-bred moles
they scramble in the dust,
Not for the treasure that shall never rust;
But for vile cankered dross is all their care,
As if the same their
summum bonum
were.
When all that they have with their labor bought
In my opinion is not worth a thought:
I have known Chuffs, that having well to live,
Yea and sufficient for to lend and give:
Will naith'less
toil, moile,
and take more pain,
Then a
Jews
bond-slave, or a
M
••
re
in
Spain;
All day they brook the
rain, hail, frost
and
snow,
And then as if they had not drudg'd enough,
They lie and think all night with care & sorrow,
How they may take as little rest the morrow.
'It is strange their minds so much for gold should itch
And being gotten that it should bewitch;
It is by nature in a prison pent,
Under our feet in the' basest
element:
And shall we plucked from
dungeons, filth,
and
mire
To give 't the chiefest seat in our desire?
'Twere want of judgment, but brave spirits know
It is base, and therefore do account it so.
I have heard those say that travel to the
East,
Where this beloved mettaile hath its
nest,
That in those places where such
minerals
be
Is neither
grass,
nor
herb,
nor
plant,
nor
tree;
A cursed soil; and this at home I find,
That those which too-much do employ their mind
About that trash; their hearts are (I will be bold)
As barraine as the earth where men dignity gold.
This humor hath no bounds, tis a desire,
(Or disease rather) nothing can expire;
'It is
hell,
for had it all the world, yet,
It longs as much as ifit had never a whit;
A boundless gulf: and I lament their pain
Who have this
never-quenched thirst of
gain;
So bottomeless a
whirl-pool
that receives
Still, yet the self-same room still empty leaves;
He's mad that food to such a
Vulture
gives
That's never full; and e'ne as good fill siues
That have no bottom, as for to endeavor,
To glut a Monster that will hunger ever:
Yet men still strive although it be in vain;
And though they feel their longing still remain,
They'l weary out themselves like him that drinks
Brine, or salt water, and still thereby thinks
To slack his thirst at last; though he feelit more
Augmented, at each draught then twas before:
Yea, wealth doth as much lessen this desire
Of
Avarice
in men, as flames of fire
Alay the heat: besides, though they have store,
This makes them to themselves exceeding poor;
And howsoever they may seem, yet such
Until their
dying-day
are never rich▪
They very seldom have respect or care
To promise, or Religion; thei'l not spare
To wrong their neighbor, friend, or God himself,
Thereby for to increase their cursed pelf:
They neither reverence the right of laws,
Nor are they touched with the poor-man's cause:
They would be well content to shed their bloods,
Loose
Soul
and
Heaven,
for to save their goods:
To talk to them of better things 'twere vain,
For they are only capable of gain;
They never live in true
society,
Nor know they
friendship, love,
or
piety;
And in a word, those that are thereby led,
Never do good till they are
sick
or
dead.
And therefore with these vermin I will place them▪
That serve to no use till that we uncase them▪
I have obserud' that such men's children be,
Borne many times to greatest misery;
For they have neither
mean es
nor
education,
According to their Kindred, State nor Nation:
Whereby we see that they do often run,
Into vild actions and are quite undone;
So then, these grieve to hear they do amiss,
But nere consider that
their
fault it is;
'It is greediness that makes a man a flaue,
To that which he should for his servant have,
And teaches him for to esteem of more,
The
vicioius-Ritchman,
then the
honest poor,
Alas! how many are there I could name,
Iniurious villains; that for to defame,
Or wrong another would forswear salvation,
As if they thought that there were no damnation?
Provided that when they their conscience strain,
It be out of a hatred or for gain:
Yea there be idle theeuing rogues a many,
That have no
Virtue,
nor will nere have any:
Yet for their wealth shall highly be respected,
When honest men their beetters, are neglected,
And then
•
we also see that most men do,
Put many worthy titles on them toe,
That such base scummes must oft entreated be,
With
good your Worship,
and with cap and knee:
But sure the world is now become a gull,
To think such scoundrels can be worshipful;
And yet in these days, if that men have riches,
Though they be
hangmen, Usurers
or
witches,
Devils-incarnate,
such as have no shame,
To act the thing that I should blush to name,
Doth that disgrace them any whit? Fie no,
The world it means not for to use them so;
There is no shame for Ritch-men in these times,
For wealth will serve to cover any crimes:
Wert thou a
crook-back-dwarf,
deformed in shape;
Thersites
like, condition'd like an ape:
Didst never do a deed a good-man ought,
Nor spake true word, nor hadst an honest thought,
If thou be rich, and hap to disagree
With one that's poor; although indeed he be
In every part a man and hath a Spirit
That's truly noble, able for to merit
Even praise of Envy; yet if thou wilt seem
A man far worthier and of more esteem,
Although thou canst invent no means to blame him
Yet I can tell a trick how thou shalt shame him,
And that's but this,
Report that he is poor,
And there's no way for to disgrace him more;
For so this
Passion
doth men's judgment blind,
That him in whom they most perfection find,
If that he be not rich they count him bace,
And oft hees fain to give a Villaine place.
Moreover the desire to gain this pelf,
Makes many a brave man to forget himself:
Some I have known that for their worthy parts,
Their virtue and their skill in many Arts,
Deserued honor; and (if any can
Judge by the outward look, the inward man)
For to command men they me thought were born▪
And seemed a slavish servitude to scorn;
Yet have I seen when such as these (alas!)
In hope of gain have croucht unto an Ass,
Observe'd a Dolt, and much debasit their merits,
To men of vulgar and ignoble spirits;
How many of our finest wits have spent,
Their times and studies in mere complement?
Greasing with praises many a fat-fed Bore,
Of whom the world thought too too well before:
How many now that followed
Mars
his troop
Whom force of death could never make to stoop?
Nay more, how many of our grave Divines
That should seek treasure not in earthly
mines,
What store I say of these,
against the hair,
(As goes the common proverb)
can speak fair,
Flatter for gain, and humor such base groomes,
As are not worthy of their horse-boys rooms?
They wrong themselves, but those are counted wise
That now a days know how to temporize:
I cannot brook dissembling: and I vow,
E're I to any golden calf would bow,
Flatter against my conscience, or else smother
That which I know for truth, to please another,
E're I for gain would faune to please a clown,
Or feed
great fools
with tales of the renown
Of their reputed fathers, when
(God mend them)
Thēselves have nothing why we should commend them,
And ere I will coin a lie, beit never so small,
For eu'r a bragging
Thraso
of them all
In hope of profit; I will give up my play,
And fall to labor for a groat a day;
And for my clothing in a mantle go,
And feed on
Sham-roots,
as the
Irish
do;
For, what contentment can in riches be,
Unless the body and the mind be free?
But tush what's freedom? look where gold bears sway,
It takes
That Credit,
yea and
Wit
away;
Corrupts the judgment, and can make the laws
Oft-times to favor an ungodly cause:
Besides, a worldly mind doth so affect,
Where wealth abounds, & bears so much respect
To those that have it: that their vice they deem
To be a virtue, and so make it seem;
For, say they use extortion, no men more,
Vndoe their
Country,
hurt and wrong the poor,
Be damned Usurers, and keep a house,
That yields not crumbs enough to feed a mouse:
Yet they'll not say he's covetous; oh no,
He's thrifty, a good wary man, or so.
Another though in pride he do excel,
Be more ambitious then the
Prince of hell;
If his apparel be in part like us,
Italian, Span
•
sh, French
and
Barbarous,
Although it be of twenty several fashions,
All borrowed from as many foreign nations;
Yet he's not vain, nor proud; what is he than?
Marry a proper, fine, neat Gentleman,
Or if he be a drunkard that can swagger,
Go daily armed with an
alehouse dagger,
Quaffe
soul-sick-healths
until his eyes do stare,
Sing
baudy Songs,
and
rounds,
and curse and swear;
Though he use gaming, as the cards and dice,
So out of measure that he makit a vice,
Turn his own house into a filthy stews,
Keep
whores,
and
knaves,
and
baudes,
as that's no news
Yet if he be a rich man what is he,
A rude rank ruffine if you ask of me,
A Ruffin? Guep Jack sauce-box with a wannion,
Nay he's a merry and a boone companion,
This is the
Worlds
censure. Yet beside,
Another quality I have espide;
For those diseases they do shun the poor,
They do abhor a Rich-man never the more:
Him I have known that hath disdained to sup
Water, or beer, out of a poor man's cup,
For fear of poisoning, or something as bad,
Although he knew no malady he had;
And yet have I, seen the same curious
Ass,
Pledging a rich-man in the self-same glass:
When he hath known the party
(if you please
I will speakeplaine English)
had the
French
disease:
But as the
Prouerb
saith,
Birds of a feather
Will always use to flock and feed together:
I have oft mused and do still admire,
That men should hurtful riches so desire,
For weigh it well and you shall find it fills,
The owner of it with a thousand ill's,
Much worse then these forenam'd: for why we find,
It chokes and mar's the Virtues of the mind:
Then we perceive it greatly doth annoy,
Vexes the heart, and hinders the true joy
Would else be there; And as it may appear,
Loads us with diverse troubles, cares and fear:
It makes us to grow
arrogant, unjust,
Drawes unto pleasure, and provokes to lust:
More hopeful for to practice villainy,
Then for to further us in honesty,
It nere contents the owners that enjoy it,
And those that have it many times employ it
To corrupt justice; or for to allure,
Matrons, or Virgins, to an act impure:
It hires murders, and makes men seditious,
Full of suspect, and envy, or ambitious:
Yea it breeds
claw-backs, pick-thanks, flattery,
Makes many thieves and causes
perjury:
It hinders knowledge, for most that have lands,
Live neither by their wisdom nor their hands.
They follow sloth and pleasure, not the schools,
And that's the reason there's such wealthy fools:
These are the fruits of wealth;
yet that alone
Seemes now the fairest mark of everyone
To make his course for; and which to attain,
Or keep once gotten, we refuse no pain
Labor nor danger; yet it doth appear,
They think
that all,
which they were placit for here:
Now there's a
Counterpassion
unto this,
Which to speak something of 'twere not amiss:
Those,
subject thereunto, have got a fashion,
That's quite contrary to the former
Passion.
Fore'ne as greedy men are set on fire,
With an vnquenched and a soul desire,
Of hourding
Riches (God in heaven amend them)
So do the other hie as fast to spend them:
Their
〈◊〉
diverse; some vain-glorious Asses.
Consu
•
nit in gaudy clothes; and looking glasses;
Others blown up e'ne with the self same bellows
Seek to obtain the love of all good fellows;
These at the
Althouse
have their daily pots
Though they be there or no. And look what shots,
Are in their chambers spent, beit nere so many,
He doth them wrong that thinks to pay a penny;
These feast at
Taverns
their supposed friends,
That pay with,
Thanks, we nere shall make
〈◊〉
:
Yea, and in more things they have lavish been,
But those are paths I'uc no experience in,
Yet such as they ere many years be past,
Will wish (I warrant) they had held it fast,
When for their kindness and their former cheer,
They hardly shall procure a cup of bear.
But there must needs be some men prone there to,
Or how a devil shall our sharker do?
Yet can I not say rightly that these be,
From
Avarice
and greediness quite free:
For though they do consume it knauishly,
And spend it on vain pleasures lavishly,
They gladly would their evil course maintain,
And therefore overslip no means of gain,
For they have used (by their own confession)
Secret and open Robberies; Oppression,
And diverse tricks which show this spending vice,
May have some reference to Avarice.
Others there are, (but few) who having store,
Neglect their wealth, and rather would be poor;
And why? it stops the way to heaven they say;
Sure being misemployed so it may:
And therefore rather then they should abuse it,
'Twere good they had it that know how to use it:
For such are lightly weak in resolution,
And men but of a simple constitution,
Or are by some seducing Villan taught,
That their
goods
(rather then their
good
) have sought:
Now I suppose the man that well obtains
His wealth, and in an honest calling gains,
More wisdom shows in using it aright,
Then such a Cynnick as contemns in quite.
Men will be in extremes; but sure the less,
Is to neglect wealth, for much greediness,
Makes not the body only, lean and foul,
But also spreads infection to his soul,
And clogges her so with things of no account,
That she is over-poyz'd to much, to mount.
But those that for to go astray are loath,
Use their endeavours to avoid them both.
OF AMBITION.
SATYR. 9.
HEres yet another called
Ambition,
Little with men of low
condition,
But 'tis a humor which doth ever search,
The
stout-high-minded,
and doth always perch
In men of spirit. This doth far surmount,
The force of
Love;
It maketh no account
Of
Nature,
nor
Religion;
'tis not
Law,
Nor
Conscience,
that can keep such men in awe;
Ther's no estate contents them; peace and strife
Are both alike to them; yea death and life:
Wives, children, friends, nor none but such as may▪
Be unto their
Ambitious
plots a stay,
Shall be respected; and so they may reap,
What they desire, theil not stick to heap
Murder on Murthers; yea and thinkit no sin,
Be it of strangers, or their nearest kin:
They have such flinty breasts they can out-beard,
Danger it self, and be no whit afeard;
Proud daring Spirits; yet we see,
confusion,
Of such high minds doth prove the sad
couclusion:
And he that first was ruined by this evil,
Was our grand foe which we do call the
Devil:
For he aspir'd so high, that higher powers,
Wrought his just fall, and now he seeketh ours;
He first infused this ill into our breast,
For to disquiet and disturb our rest.
This most
unreasonable, strong desire;
This
too excessive longing to aspire
To honor and promotion;
which indeed
Doth from a sottish ignorance proceed;
It is the wild'st and most disorderd'st passion,
And a great enemy to contentation,
For whatsoever state man hath attained
It is e' ne as if that he had nothing gained;
For he hath hereby still a farther I cope,
And never reaches to the end of's hope;
That which he doth possess he near respecteth,
But altogether things unknown affecteth,
And counts them best; which whatsoever they
Being once gotten too, are not esteemed:
But what's the reason that they do abhor, sseem'd,
The things possessed that they have labored for?
What is the cause I say they do contemn,
(Or cannot use) things having gained them?
Sure hence it doth proceed; they do not know
What the things are that they do long for so.
And they obtain them oft, e're they have might,
And
Reason
fit to govern them aright:
Had many of our reaching
Yeomanry,
That have grown wealthy through good husbandry,
And some of our proud
Gentry,
that have sought
Titles,
and undeserved
Honors
bought;
Had they, I say, beforehand known the shame,
And beggary that followed on the same,
For want to knowing where to they aspir'd
They would not have those
Dignities
desired,
And so indeed they might have walkit the street,
And not have feared the
Counters
nor the
Fleet:
Yea and with
Good-man
have contented been,
Where now there's scarce a good man of the kin.
Ambitious
men will ever envious be;
Regarding neither love nor amity,
And though that they may make a goodly show,
With reason it can never stand I know,
They should be faithful, or with Justice deal,
Either for
Princes
or for
Common-weal:
For why this humor makes them to attend,
And all their labors and best counsels spend,
In their own plots; And so they have no loss,
They care not whose proceedings they do cross;
Virtuous endeavors this doth also let,
Yea makes men many a good thing to forget:
And though I am loath to speak it I protest
I think it reigns not in the
Clergy
least,
For they at first show great humility,
While that they are of mean ability:
Thei'l be industrious and take pain to teach,
For twice a week shall be the least thei'le preach:
Or in their poverty they will not stick
For
Catechizing, viziting the sick,
And such like dutious works of Piety,
As do belong to their society:
But if that they can reach a
Vicarage,
Or be inducted to some
Parsouage:
Men must content the mselues and think it well,
If once a year they hear the Sermon bell:
Now if it be a
Deanery
or so,
If not in twelve months it is oft enough,
And why? Alas consider that
Devotion,
Is but a busy thing that lets
Promotion,
And if that they should give their minds tooit all
Who should have their great places when they fall?
No, no, twere fitter they their ease did take,
And se what friends and Patrons they can make
For the next
Hierarchy;
or learn how
To humor and to please the
Great-ones
now;
But, if that they in that adventure speed,
Thei'le be more painful; yes, tis like indeed:
If they get into their
formalibus,
And Reuerent
Pontificalibus;
'It is very like I say that we shall hear,
They use the Pulpit once in twice a year:
Nay and tis well if it be done so oft,
For this
Ambition
bears men so aloft,
They soon forget their duties: and this pride
I in the Clergy worst of all abide,
In them I hold it the most odious,
And no
Ambition
so pernicious,
Eeither for prince, or Church, or common good,
Witness the beast of
Rome
and his fou'e broo
•
Of clyming
Cardinals,
who from base
states,
Are gotten to be Kings and Princes
mates,
Yea their
superiors.
This the devil makes,
His chiefest engine where withal he shakes
Religions soundness; And rends in it chinks,
Which he dawbes up again with what he think
•
Shall ruinit all in time; was it not hence,
He had his means to mar the innocence
Of
Rome's
first Bishops? yes, the Church grew strong
And flourishit while it was suppressed with wrong,
But when the worthy
Emperors
embracit
The
Sacred Truth;
and with their favors gracit
Their good proceedings; They then gan to leave
Their humble Nature off: and closely weave,
Under a Religious show (not a bare
Miter
It fits not the successors of Saint
Peter
)
A triple
Diadem;
and such a state,
That never any earthly Potentate
Enioy'd the like
(yet all with humble preaching)
A long degree I takit, beyond the reaching
Of temporal
Ambition. But I pray
Er'e the first Beast his time be done away,
There rise not up another monster here
'Mongst our Ambitious Churchmen; I should fear
A second Antichrist, but that I hope
They either shall be kept within their scope,
Or the last judgment, whose nigh times unknown,
Shall cut him off e're he be wholly grown:
But more of these I here omit to speak,
Because, I think there's no man's sight so weak,
But see's their doings; yet let none suppose,
〈◊〉
hear mean to defend, or maintain those
That do our
Bishops
Callings disallow.
Let them that can
•
for sure I know not how:
Nor would I have the world to understand,
That I tax all the Clergy in the land:
Or the whole
Hierarchy:
Think not so;
For why; this present age doth yield, I know,
Men that are truly worthy; I hope many,
Yea I am sure few times, since Christ, had any
More knowing or more painful then some few,
And whatsoever men think, yet for to show,
Though I Satyrically carp at those
That follow
Vice
and are true
Virtues
foes,
I have not such a spiteful cankered spirit,
As to conceal and smother
Worth
and
Merit:
For I will for
Canterburies
Grace be bold,
Out of mine own experience to uphold,
That Sea was never governed as yet,
By any one more Reuerent or more fit:
For over and above his Country cares,
Wherein he neither
time
nor
counsel
spares,
Besides
Church business
whereto he applies
His mind to further it, what in him lies;
I say beside this public care at large,
Few Ministers have, in their private charge,
Showne greater pain: that here the truth I tell,
London
and
Lambeth
both can witness well,
And thou wert unhappy
London
then,
When thou didst loose this rare
One
among men;
Yet thou wert blest again, thy fate did bring,
In place of such a FATHER such a KING,
A main Church-pillar, and of so great worth,
Europe
can hardly bring his equal forth:
And for them both my
Muse
will this put down,
(Who scorns to sooth a King to get a Crown)
Had she not thought them to be what she says,
She would have here disdained to sing their praise:
But to go foreword, I do wonder why,
Men should be subject to this
Vanity
For I have seen those that had riches store,
Great offices, and favors, no men more,
Honor and credit, yea and wisdom to,
Yet see what an ambitious head will do:
Clyming to high they got so low a fall,
They forfeited their honors, lives and all.
Me thinks ere they in such an act should stir,
Twere noit amiss to think on
Aesop's Cur,
Who catching but to get a
shadow
more,
Did loose the
substance
that he had before:
I might a while upon example stand,
Of former times; but that within this land,
The present
Age,
the which I only view,
Can yield enough to prove my saying true:
And of so many in this Kingdom shown,
I mean at this time to produce but one:
And that shall be the late Ambitious plot,
The like whereof the world sure yieldeth not,
I mean the powder treason, and intention,
Brought (had not God assisted) past prevention:
Yet see ere they could clime to their desire,
When they were for to mount but one step-higher
(Let God be honored for it
) down tumbled all,
And gave these
hell-hounds
a deserved fall:
As often as I call to memory,
That horrid and detested villainy,
It makes me sorry such a hellish plot,
Should scape vnblas'd to be so soon forgot;
But some good wit ere long I do not doubt,
Will undertake to paint that action out;
And in it own true
sable color
show it,
That children that are yet unborn may know it:
And to make plain that
ruin
and
perdition,
Are the last
Periods
to conclude
Ambition:
But to that purpose they may labor spend,
And per adventure all to little end:
They will not think thereon, for we may see,
How lofty-minded still there's many be,
With what desires of titles they have sought them
And at how dear a reckoning they have bought them:
But that with other flows from
Vanity,
A part essential in humanity,
Which (if God grant me leave) I mean to chase,
But must refer it to another place:
Some have ambitious heads, but cannot rise,
Because the want of means and friends denies
What they aspire unto: but such are vext,
Their mind I know is troubled and perplexed
Beyond all reason; Oh strange humor'd men,
Your folly you will leave I think, but when?
Be with your states Content, for do you know
Wether you wish be for your good or no?
Oyes thinks one; if I could once attain,
Such offices; or so much wealth to gain
As this or that man hath; my wish were ended,
And such or such a fault should be amended:
But this I say, though they may think it strange,
With the
estate
the mind doth also change,
And when in one thing thou hast thy desire,
Thou canst not stay there but must mount up higher
And higher still, until thou dost attain,
Unto the
top
or tumble down again:
Be warned then you that
Ambitious
are,
And for to curb your passion have a care:
Else at the length, 'twil certainly deceive you,
But you will have your wills to which I leave you.
OF FEARE.
SATYR. 10.
SOft now; what
Pasion's
this that follows next?
Surely I think he's with a fever vext,
He shakes and looks so pale; O me, tis
fear!
I will make his humors also to appear,
Since I have found him. This is he that mar's,
All our delight on earth: 'tis he that bars
Man the right use of pleasure. And tis he,
That was at first ordained our plague to be,
Avoid him you that love and look for rest,
Let a true courage banish him your breast:
For this makes not your bodies only
num,
Tremblingly cold, deformed,
and
pale
become.
But 'tis a passion
ugly, grim,
and
foul,
That doth with grief e'ne clog the very foul:
And comes (if that I fail not in my skill)
Out of a false opinion of some ill,
That's present or to come;
It
inly
stings,
And also for companions it brings
Both
pain
and
shame;
and diverse have I seen,
That with this fever have sore shaken been;
Two but of late whose fear so foolish prou'd,
Many thereby were unto laughter moou'd,
One came in puffing almost out of breath,
As if
he
hardly had escaped death,
And why? Alas! he thought a whited post,
He on a sudden saw had been a Ghoast:
And that surmise did such impression take,
That though he after saw 'twas but a stake,
If yet he do but come that way benighted,
He is e'ne with the very place affrighted:
Th'other came running like a man that's mad,
Oh! he had seen the Devil that he had,
Where in an old house fitting on a block,
We looked and there we found a turky-cock:
Thus many fear where cause of fear is none,
And make themselves a jest for everyone;
Yea fear hath made a number so afraid,
That they have oft their dearest friends betrayed:
For this cause only I do nere intend,
To choose a
coward
for to be my friend,
And if that women be not grown so coy,
To scorn to take advisement of a boy,
Let them not choose a coward to their mate,
Least they repent it as one did of late:
For not far off there dwelt not long ago
(I will tell a tale that many yet do know:)
A Gentlewoman not of meanest rank,
Whose favor might have well deserved thank,
For that in face and dowry few did match her,
Many a gallant tried his wits to catch her:
Who being kept but narrowly at home,
So she were gone she cared not much with whom;
Now see Dame fortune that will seldom part,
Her favors unto men of good desert,
Brings to the house a fellow that in show,
Seem'd worthy of the prize, but was not so;
Yet having opportunity he tries,
Gets her good-will and with her thence he flies;
But lo, the Parents quickly mist their daughter,
Rais'd all the town, and following hardly after.
Were by mere chance into an old houseled,
Where this young couple were new gone to bed:
You that have ever in that pickle been,
Judge what a case these naked folks were in.
But what did he? there leaves his new stolen prey,
And like a fearful Coward slunke away.
Out on such Asses; how could he for shame,
So leave a woman to bear all the blame?
And for the grief s
•
e suffers with her friends,
How can the villain make the whore amends?
I know not: but for playing such a part,
'It is certain be hath turned the wenches heart,
And she for climbing to a Cowards bed,
Hath lost her credit with her maiden-head.
Such was th' effect of fear. And more, from thence
Proceedeth
cruelty, impacience,
Breach of our promise, with much envying
Together with the hateful vice of
lying;
Murthers and treasons toe; theres naught so base,
So full of
villainy, shame
or
disgrace,
The fearful would not act with all his heart,
To free himself from fear of death or smart:
Yea some would be contented very well,
So they might scape
Death,
to go quick to hell
Such is their nature; I myself have seen,
Fear bring those evils that had else not been:
As it hath brought the plague on some. Beside,
There's many a one for fear of death hath died:
And there be diverse have so careful been,
To rid themselves from fears which they were in;
That as the ship that doth
Charibdis
shun,
They ran on
Sylla
and were quite undone;
And why? alas it is the
Cowards
error:
To think the present danger full'st of terror:
The fear of evil more tormenteth some,
Then doth the thing they feared whē once tis come
Men dread what is; what will be; and alas!
Many a thing that nere shall come to pass;
If they did only fear apparent things,
That likeli-hood of terror with it brings,
As troops of enemies, or thieves, or treason,
Pirates
or storms at sea; there were some reason
Or color for it then, but they will quake,
At fictions; at mere nothings; their hearts ache
At their own fancies: Superstitious,
At tales of
Fairies,
and of Visions,
Yea I have seen some heavy and sull sad,
Because of a poor foolish dream they had:
Oh what means man that having mischeefes store
Must in his own conceit needs make them more?
Thinkes he those will not grim enough appear,
Unless he apprehend them first by fear?
Sure tis a plague the
Devil
did invent,
To work in man a lasting discontent:
And taught it
Adam,
whe revppon he said,
I saw my nakedness and was afraid:
This is our fault; but yet I cannot see,
A reason why men should so fearful be:
May they not joy and be as merry still;
With hope of good, as sad with fear of ill?
Sure I think yes; and will on hope so feed,
No ill shall fear me til tis come indeed,
For that which likeliest seems for to betide me,
God in his mercy yet may put beside me.
And though much proof hath bred with in my breast,
This resolution, yet of all the rest,
This last confirmed it most, for th' other day,
When the hard frost had stopped the Scullers way,
And that the flowing
Thames
with ice was archit
So that the people over on it marchit,
Amongst the rest one bolder then was fit,
Wandering beside the path for want of wit:
Stept on a piece of ice which with a crack,
Rent from the main, and stopped his going back:
The ycie fragment ('twas a heavy token)
Swam to the bridge where all the ice was broken,
The people looked and he for aid did crave,
But oh! there was no power in them to save;
Which soon conceiving on his knees he fell,
(I from the bridge perceived him very well)
And lifting up his hands his aid implores
That sau'd old
Jonah
without sails or oars;
And see God's mercy when he drew so near,
No hope of safeguard seemed to appear
And when that he had three times whirled been,
And that the Arch was like to suck him in:
Beyond our expectation (in a trise)
There thrusts between a greater piece of ice,
Which coming down as if it scornd to stay,
Beat by the lesser for to give it way,
And a while staid it; but he had been fain,
When that was gone to take his turn again,
Had not, next God, the people stood his friend,
And sau'd him by a rope that's some man's end:
So this proves, men may scape a mischief now;
When tis so near them, they perceive not how,
And I do hope this argument is clear,
That we have as much cause to hope as fear;
More trembling humors I might here unfold,
Which, some will be unwilling to be told,
And therefore pass them; but I do protest,
This hurtful monster I so much detest,
That I am very loath for to omit,
Any occasion of disgracing it:
Yet do I not alow their resolution,
That merely of a hellish constitution,
Have such obdurate hearts so hard in evil,
They neither seem afraid of God nor Devil.
Such I have noted to, but truly they,
Are in as bad, but a contrary way.
They prate and swear as if they could affright,
And make Hobgoblin run away by night,
When questionless as bold as they appear,
They are perplexed with an inward fear;
Yea I have known a trifle or a blast,
Hath made such
Champions
oftentimes agast.
There is a fear thats good, and hinders sin,
Indeed that, every good man should be in,
And theres a fear that keeps a
kingdoms state,
From
ruin,
if it be not taine to late;
It is not a slavish terror, thats a crime,
No rather 'tis a wise fore-sight in time:
That makes men very heedful to fore-think
Danger to come, and not as we do, wink
At our own nakedness; as without care,
Who spies it, so we see not our selves bare.
This fear it is that makes men to provide
Against a storm they may the better bide
The fury of it; this 'tis keeps off wrong,
And makes a City or a Kingdom strong,
And I much doubt the wanting of these fears,
Will make us smart for it yet ere many years,
For since we are become a pretty number,
Although we can but one another cumber,
Or serve to make a
Hubbub,
we suppose,
There are no
nations dare
to be our foes,
We think a wondrous
policy
we show,
If once in four years we do take a
view,
Or count the number of our able men,
Flattring our selves there with; as if that then;
(Having so great and huge a multitude,
Though we were nere so inexpert and rude)
There were no cause of fear: but a
Realms
might
Consists not in the number that must fight,
More in their skill, for of good soldiers ten,
Will foil a hundred vnexperiencit men,
Such as we are: For, 'tis a shame to speak,
How wonderful vnfitty and how weak,
This ignorance makes most of us, except
Whom brave
South-hamptons
government hath kept
In warlike order; I do mean indeed
Our
Hampshire Ilanders,
of whom for need
A hundred boys that nere had hair on chin,
Shall from five hundred of up-landish win
Both field and Town: By which it may appear
Good government with profitable fear
Within a few short years so well will thrive,
One shall become to have the odds of five:
These therefore that have wisdom for to tell,
When they do anything amiss or well;
Stil in this
Passion
observe a mean,
And not to
fear
nor to
presumption
lean.
OF DESPAIRE.
SATY. 11.
NO more of
fear,
for lo his impious brat,
Lookes now to be admitted; this is that;
We call
Dispaire,
with ghastly looks he stands,
And
poisons, ropes,
or
poin-yards
fills his hands,
Still ready to do hurt; one step, no more,
Reaches from hence unto dam nations door.
This is that
Passion
gives a man instruction,
To wrest the
Scriptures
to his own
destruction;
And makes him think while he on earth doth dwell
He feels the very torturing
pangs
of hell;
It makes men rage, like furies
screeeh and howl,
With
exclamations
horrible and foul,
Like Monsters more then men. Only
damnation
Is in their mouths; no mercy nor salvation
They seem to hope for: they extremely fear
Some monstrous shapes which seem for to appear
Through their imaginations; and the pain
That they in soul and conscience do sustain,
All earthly tortures doth so much exceed,
That they have thought them selves in hell indeed
Oh what repentant lives, some vow to live,
If God would but once more vouchsafe to give
Their health and hope again: then they would spend
Their lives, and good, unto no other end
But wholly for his glory: yet theres now
Some living that have quite forgot that
vow,
God give them grace to look into their error,
Or they will one day find a double terror,
Some in this agony have little will,
To anything, unless it be to kill,
Or make themselves away; whereto the
Devil,
The author and chief causer of this evil,
(Unless that God in mercy him prevents)
Is ready to provide him
instruments,
I even quake to think what humors be,
Attending on this hellish maladee;
And for some cause I mean not here to show them,
But pray that all had grace for to eschew them:
Now some do think this passion being taken,
Can very hardly be again forsaken;
But let none think so; for why? God in distress
Doth never leave man quite without redress:
Nor can we say that he hath left us void,
Of help for this, when ere we are annoy'd
Through Satan's guile; for pitying our case,
He leaves us hope of favor and of grace,
If we'l lay hold on it; which to make more clear,
He let his everlasting love appear,
In highest measure, by the
sacrifice
Of CHRIST his son for our
iniquities;
And also, did not sin thus make us blind,
For every grief of body and of mind,
He hath ordained a
salve:
All
Christians
know
(Or should at least) the
spring
from whence doth flow,
A precious liquor that will quickly cure,
Our strongest
Passions,
(if the cup be pure)
Or if we do not so presume as stand,
And lap it here and there with our own hand,
For thats the way to sooth up many a passion,
And the all-only cause of
Desperation;
Which from all good-men I do wish as far,
As earth's low center from the highest
star,
But now
despair
or▪,
distrust
is twofold,
One sort of which I have already told,
Being concerning matters of
salvation,
The horriblest and fearful'st
desperation,
But th' other is alone of earthly things,
Yet mighty disadvantage with it brings,
Where it gets entrance; this makes many loath,
To undertake great matters cause through sloth
They do despair to reach them; yea it breeds
A carelessness in man, and thence proceeds
Not a few
treasons;
for the breach of law,
Makes many times the
subject
in such awe,
That he despairs of pardon for his ill;
And therefore not alone remains init still,
But being guilty, for to salve one sore
Incurs the danger of a thousand more;
And for because he thinks himself undone,
Will for assurance to
Rebellion
run:
Besides, theres some despairing of their cause,
And being brought to trial by the laws,
For some offense are obstinately mute:
To these forsooth the commons do impute
A manly Resolution; cause thereby,
They save their lands to their posterity;
But sure there is no wise-man will commend
Him that so desperately seeks his end;
And willfully doth cast away him
•
el
•
e
(Body and soul perhaps) to save his pelf,
To some
suruiuors;
where as if he bide
On hope, and not despair for to be tried
According to the laws, he may be clear'd,
And quitted of the danger he so feared,
As some have been: Besides, if we endure,
But a small pain, if we despair of cure,
Ease or amends, 'twil make it seem to be
Vnsufferable; whereas if that we
Have any Hope, the ease we look to win
Will mitigate the torture we are in;
His winter toil what Ploughman could sustain▪
If he despaired of his harvest gain?
And the strong'st army needs must faint and
•
lie,
If it despair before of victory.
But to conclude it must be understood,
Dispaires a Passion
that is no time good,
'It is always hurtful; and I can observe
Nothing whereto a man may make it serve,
Unless to help a troop of coward fight:
For could a man lead them past hope of flight,
Where they should see there were no remedy,
But they must die or get the victory;
Despair
in that case may give them the day,
That would have lost it to have run away.
OF HOPE.
SATY. 12.
THrice welcome
Hope
the
devil
keep home the tother
(
Dispaire
&
fear
ar sitting for no other)
This is the
Passion
that of all the rest,
We have most reason to esteem of best:
For if it be with good advise applide,
A salve it is
God
did himself provide
To ease not only every outward grief,
But when the very soul doth want relief,
It will redress her pain, although it were
The shaking of that hideous monster
fear:
Oh precious
Balm!
Yea, if that man had power,
To take it to himself at such an hour,
When black
Dispaire
doth pinch him, that indeed
Would quite expel it; and he should not need
Apothecary drugs.
But what can we,
Apply aright and not instructed be,
By God's good inspiration? Nay, 'tis true;
We are so far unlike for to pursue
The way we should, that we do follow still,
The crooked'st path to loose our selves in ill:
This needing
Hope,
we either never use it,
Or else for want of knowledge do abuse it:
Yea this that of all
Passions
was the best,
Is now as much corrupted as the rest;
We must consider then,
Mans hope is double,
One true and certain: th' other full of trouble,
And most unconstant:
the
first
hope attends
Things more immortal, and alone depends,
On th' expectation of the certain'st things,
And such perfection of true joy, as brings
No trouble with it, This through
faith
we gain,
And 'tis sufficient to make any pain
Seeme short and easy; yea it cheers a man,
And tis a help, without the which none can
Endure to live: but now great store there be,
Who for because of their infirmity,
Together through the bad and weak foundation,
They build this
hope
on, make it in some fashion
To be blame-worthy: It, cannot endure,
Nor will it (without doubting) make them sure
Of what they look for. Now the other kind
Of
hope,
which I amongst us men do find,
Is of uncertain earthly things, and this
Of no continuance and oft frustrate is;
For the best likeli-hoods that may be shown,
And the strong'st human reasons that are known,
Are nothing for to ground a hope upon;
(Since in the turning of a hand tis gone)
Were all the men on earth procured to
Some easy thing that's in ones power to do;
And all were well resolu'd to see it done;
Yea, wert but one days work, and that begun,
We may well hope indeed thei'l bring to pass,
So small a thing as that; but yet, alas!
None can assure it, for because they know,
No warrant from above it should be so:
And therefore I could wish that every man,
Should take unto him the best
hope
he can,
In all his outward actions; but foresee,
At least on honest grounds it built be,
And therewith be so well prepared still,
That if these doubtful
hopes
do fall out ill,
He never repine, but takit as if the same
Had been expected long before it came;
And since that
fickle trust
did naught avail him,
Depend on the
true hope
that shall nere fail him.
For that indeed that's placed on
wit
or
strength
Is vain, and most uncertain; cause at length,
How ere it may seem sure, it will deceive him,
And when he hath most need of comfort, leave him.
Besides there's many to this
hope
are led,
By sundry
Passions
within them bred:
As Love, Ambition, Avarice, and such,
'It is true that these will make a man
hope
much;
But many thereby into errors run
So blindly on, that they are quite undone,
Cause in their minds, they hopefully expect,
A thousand things which they shall nere effect;
For they give their desires too large a
scope,
And do abuse themselves through
feigned hope,
Not having placed it on a certain ground
(For then it never could be frustrate found.)
But
Lovers hopes,
and such as theirs, are bold,
On every paltry trifle to lay hold.
And whatsoever the
Ambitious
do intend,
The hopes they have to bring their plots to end
Are drawn frō n' other
grounds
but their
affections
Which for the most part give such blind
directions,
That they, as we may by experience see
Together with their
hopes
oft ruined be;
But as this passion is now much abused,
The next that follows is as hardly us'd.
OF COMPASSION.
SATYR. 13.
PItty
is known a kind and tender
Passion,
In it own nature worthy commendation;
And if Discretion guide it, well may be
Of mere alliance unto
Charity;
If not, it then from virtue quickly swerues,
And with the rest a like reproof deserves:
Now some will muse thereat, such as suppose
A man through
pity
cannot err; but those
If they have any judgment of their own,
Shall say
compassion
may amiss be shown:
Yea, and oft is, which they will quickly find,
Or else I will say their
Reasons
eye is blind;
First let them tell me, isit not frequented now,
That those the which our Country laws allow
Jurors
for trial, are ofttimes compel'd
Through a base tender weakness for to yield.
Unto this melting
Passion?
sometime by,
A
personal
respect ta'ne by the eye:
Sometime for that th' offender (it may be,
Already hath sustained much misery:
And think they not this
Charity
and right?
Yet through the Ignorance forgetting quite,
Whilest they an ill deserved life prolong,
Therein they do not only
Justice
wrong,
But by their indiscrete and fond Compassion,
Vnwisely hazard e'ne their own Salvation;
Then for their need, or cause they much implore,
In common pleas they lean unto the poor,
(If might over sway them not,) and that they trust,
(Because they mean well) may be counted Just:
Are there not some toe, who would fain be deemed
Good Common-wealths men? yet have misesteem'd
That Order which for wandering rogues was made,
(And as if they allowd their
begging trade
)
Much pity those that justly punished be,
As though it were done void of Charity?
Yea they have dared to say thus much and more,
There's no laws made now, but against the poor:
Moreover, he whose judgment is so slender,
And hath an yielding heart so fondly tender
To stoup unto this
Passion,
neither spares
The laws of God nor man; but rashly dares
Peruert them both; supposing his intent,
Shall free him from deserved punishment:
These though that God himself says
kill;
reply
With
no alas? tis pity he should die:
But such as they deserve the self same-check
He had that spared the King of
Amalek:
For to say truth as virtuous as it shows,
A
foolish p
•
tty
quickly overthrows,
In War an Army and in peace a State;
And this I will stand to, 'tis as bad as
Hate,
For
That
and
Bribes
to such a power is grown,
Iustic
•
can little in some courts now be shown:
Yea it is clear and cannot be withstood,
That
Pitty
sometimes hurts the common good,
And more we find that
God's
thereby offended,
And therefore man must have this fault amended,
And be persuaded 'tis his part to see,
How far this
Passion
may admitted be;
For seem how 'twill, all pity is unfit,
Unless God's laws and Mans do warrant it:
But I have noted some kind-hearted Asses,
Worth laughing at, that all the rest surpasses
For foolish pity: but themselves alone,
'It is prejudicial too; or hurteth none;
To these do you but a
Tragaedian
be,
Or else recite some ancient
history;
If that the matter which you do relate
Be sorrowful and something Passionate,
Though it were done a thousand years ago,
And in a Country they did never know,
Yet will they weep (
kind-hearts
) as if those men,
Were of their friends; and that thing told, but then
Before their eyes in action: nay, unfold
Some new made tale that never yet was told,
So it be doleful and do represent
Some strange and lamentable accident:
Although not only (as I said before)
It be a matter merely feigned, but more;
Though that they know it so, they cannot keep
Their melting eyes from tears but they must weep
I might touch Parents, chiefly in the City,
That mar their children by their cockering pity,
But other
Passions
call me now away;
And yet before I leave thus much I will say,
Those fond-kind Parents that take rods from schools
Have almost filled the land with
knaves
and
fools
And those that think we need no pity rue,
Let them not hold so still, for this is true,
Fond pity rests in no true manly breast;
And therefore you that are, or would at least
Be counted men; be not therewith ore' borne,
For tis a Passion that now Women scorn.
OF CRVELTY.
SATYR. 14.
BVt here's another bears us farther wide,
If we embrace it on the other side;
And therefore whilst we seek for to beware
Of foolish
Pitty,
we must have a care
Least this do over-run us: tis a thing,
Whose very name doth seem enough to bring,
All men in the opinion to confess,
It is an
inhuma
•
e hellish wickedness:
A monstrous
Passion,
so unfit to rest
Or harbor in a reasonable breast
That beasts, in whom it rather should remain,
Do for the greatest part the same refrain:
And yet as odious as it doth appear,
Unless men look to their affections near,
'Twill steal upon them, and they shall begin,
Not only to be quickly snar'd therein,
Although at first they do abhor it much,
•
ut more; the nature of this
Passion's
such,
It will begin delightful; and it makes
So deep impression in the heart, and takes
So sound a root, 'twill hardly be displacit,
Whilst that the body by the soul is gracit:
And yet some do supposer i
•
may with ease,
Be left or took as everyone shall please,
But they are wide, like them that over-bold,
And trusting to their proper strength, uphold,
We need not this same
Passion
discommend,
Nature sufficient is to reprehend
That fault
(they say.) And they detest it so,
Reason
can near have such an overthrow,
That they should live themselves for to defile,
With any passion that they know so vile:
Indeed it is a monstrous villainy,
And most I think can rail at cruelty,
Yet let none be so careless, for 'tis true,
The odious vices we do most eschew,
Grow pleasing by degrees: When
Hasael
Was told what he should do to
Israel,
Full little thought he then his gentle heart,
Should ever give consent to act a part,
Of such a
Tragic Scaene;
and yet we find,
He became after of another mind:
For our intents and best affections, be
Exceeding subject to uncertainty:
Those we think surest; and unless each hour,
We be remembered such a state is our
We should forget our selves.
Philip,
the Sire
Of that bold
Grecian
King that did aspire
To be the worlds third Monarch, knew full well
Himself to be a
Man,
yet could not tell
Whereto he might through human frailty fall,
And therefore willed his servant for to call,
Thus at his window (ere the day began)
Philip, Remember that thou art a man.
And e'ne as hateful as this Passion is,
To be remembered so, 'twere not amiss,
But men are stronger now they think then he,
And much less prone to imbecility;
But you that think so, and you that uphold
This needs no warning, 'pray let me be bold
For to demand some questions, since there be,
So few as you think stained with cruelty;
Is he not merciless, that without shame
Doth rob his neighbor of his honest name
By raising false reports? doth not that Lord,
That to his Tenant grudges to afford,
What
Love
and
Conscience
gives? or he that takes,
The common profit to himself, and makes
His own good of it, when he knows thereby
Many a poor man's brought to Beggary?
Doth not I say that Landlord hardly deal?
And is he not unto the common weal.
A cruel foe? some damned
Usurers,
That are I think the
Devils
Treasurers:
(For by the small use they of riches make
They for another seem their care to take)
Are they not cruel, when they cannot be,
Contented with their
Statute Vsuree
But must increase their gains by
bribes
and
gifts,
With many
subtle
and
unlawful shifts;
Pinching poor debtors till their greedy hands
Have got possession both of goods and lands?
What are out
Lawyers
that can brook to see,
Christians like Beasts that still a wrangling be,
And yet when it lies in their power to part them,
Will for their own gain unto discord heart them,
Keeping them still at strife by adding fuel
To maintain an ill flame; Are they not cruel?
Yes verily; and so are not alone,
The merciless offenders; but each one:
Who when he doth perceive that there is need,
Is slack to do a charitable deed:
And what may they be that employ their care,
To pamper up the flesh with curious fare:
Largely providing for the Bodies good
Whilst the poor Soul is hunger-steru'd for food?
They are not cruel? No, tis like that such
That can take pity on themselves so much,
Are merciful to others. You will say
To poison men 'twere ill, then what are they
That by false doctrine fraught with errors foul,
Seek to enuenome and infect the soul?
Cruel
they are (I know) you must confess,
But then you'le say tis not that Cruelnesse
You understood; As if you did suppose,
None through this
Passion
did offend but those
That murderers be: In truth I think that this
I here recite, not principallest is.
For it from other causes doth proceed,
Whereas true proper
Cruelty
indeed,
Is when a man delights and longs to see,
Or do, some deed that's full of Crueltee:
Just such was his that out of a desire,
To see how
Troy
burnit when it was on fire,
Caus'd
Rome
in many places for to flame,
And longing to behold from whence he came,
Ript up his mothers womb; a
passive
right
Was also his, that took so much delight,
For to behold men strangely tortured,
That he out of his bounty promised,
A large reward to him that could invent,
The cruel'st and unusual'st punishment;
Which
Phalaris
demanding, was therefore,
The first that made his Brazen Bull to roar;
And like to this are those men's humors to,
That vncompel'd, would make no more a do
To murder, till a Country were vnman'd,
Then doth a school-boy with a walking wand,
To lop down thistles tops. Now these men be
Passively cruel in the high'st degree:
And though the first rehearsed be not so,
Yet thereto they may very quickly grow:
Unless they have oft warning to beware,
Since they already half-way entered are:
Especially the greedy hungry else,
That would for profit gladly damn himself:
For
Avarice
doth harden so the heart;
In any mischief he may bear a part.
No cruelty the
Covetous
refraines,
Murder nor Treason so he may have gains.
If that I thought 'twould anything avail,
Against this
Passion
I could further rail;
But as it reigns in man experience shows;
So that 'tis evil there is none but knows:
Wherefore I will say no more but only this,
As he is blessed that meek hearted is:
So for the
Cruel
lightly doth attend,
A heavy curse, and a most fearful end.
OF JOY.
SATYR. 15.
OF all the
Passions
handled hitherto,
With this that follows I had least to do:
And yet by some small trials I have had,
'It is better I perceive then being sad:
Yea 'twere the greatest blessing that might be,
Wereit of it self, and from all combrance free:
But seldom 'tis or never; cause that such,
Is our estate; As if that
Fa
•
e
did grutch
The use of simples; we almost can find,
Nothing to pleasure us in it own kind:
Never could any man as yet obtain
Joy,
but there followed either shame or pain:
And he no question that's allowed most,
Doth dearly pay for what is quickly lost:
But now the reason why men's
Joy
so soon
Is changed to sorrow; Is because there's none,
Or very few that do their gladness found
Upon a solid, firm, substantial ground:
But on such
subjects
as no marvel though,
It doth receive so quick an overthrow
And hath so sharp a farwel: For one, Ioyes
In Dogs, Apes, Monkeis, or some such like toys,
And when they fail, as how can they last long?
Their mirth is finishit; they must change their song.
Some in their
honor
all their Joy do place,
But let them take good heed: for if disgrace,
Add the least motion unto
Fortunes
wheel,
Sorrow takes place, and little Joy they feel:
Take but away his Substance you destroy
The miserable rich men's only Joy,
And soon by sickness that delight's defacit,
Which man in beauty, or in strength hath placit:
Yea all our
Joy
in transitory things
They being lost, at last a sorrow brings:
And therefore I wish men to make their choice,
Of that wherein 'twere fit for to rejoice,
And not in things so frivolous and vain,
They must repent them for their
Joy
again.
Some do so firmly settle their delight
On things unworthy that they are e'n quite
Bereft of understanding when they see,
They must of them again deprived be:
But oh you men (that have your better parts,
Of an immortal frame) awake your hearts,
And from
•
delight in dross, and clay, remove
Your
Ioyes;
and place them upon things above:
So shall you still have cause for to rejoice,
And not with sorrow thus repent your choice.
Another fault I in man's
Joy
espy,
Which I will illustrate by this Simily,
Look how those men that being calm'd at Sea,
And forced the leisure of the winds to stay,
Halfe starud for food, once cast upon some shore,
Where, of provision they are seru'd with store:
I say look how those men by taking in,
To their weak stomachs that have fasting been
A little food; do then begin to faint;
And cause their pallates they do not acquaint,
With a spare dier, (although it wholesome be)
Through former want and their infirmity
It works their bane; Right so it fares in this,
For he that always in some sorrow is,
And tost upon the boisterous seas of care
If for his comfort he be landed there
Where
Joy
abounds; His heart, where (none hath been
Full many a day before) receives it in,
So out of measure; that it even makes
The Soul unquiet, and thereby he takes
A Surfet; whose strong violence is such,
The body faints or is endangered much.
I need not stand on proofs for this, I trow,
Since there be many by experience know,
At sudden telling of some news that's good,
Divers have senseless and amazed stood.
Yea been so rauisht with the
Joy
they took,
That they have e'ne their lives and all forsook,
Though flesh be frail, me thinks if every man,
Would strive to curb his nature what he can;
Arms of resistance they might better wield,
And not so basely to their
Passions
yield:
Yea it befits not him that ought to be,
At all points fencit with Magnanimity,
To suffer any mischief to annoy
His mind, through either too much
care
or
Joy;
But let these passions of each other borrow,
He may be sad with Mirth and glad with Sorrow,
Much I might speak more (some perhaps will say)
But here my Muse is now resolu'd to stay:
Yet if hereafter I have
Joy in store,
If it be needful, I will tell you more.
OF SORROW.
SATYR. 16.
OF this said
Passion
I may knowledge take,
And well say some-what for acquaintance sake,
I hear it is complained upon of many,
Yet I dare say it seldom hurteth any,
Excepting those by whom 'tis entertained,
And such indeed have with just cause complained:
For whilst they keep it they shall never rest,
'It is so vntam'd and troublesome a guest:
Yet such a guest, though he his host diseases,
'It is thought he cannot rid him when he pleases.
Yet if that man would use the means he might,
Sure by degrees he might out-wear it quite;
Yea tis his part and duty. For should he,
That must on
•
arth
Iehouahs Viceroy
be?
Should he to whom his sovereign Lord hath given
A Countenance for to behold the Heaven?
Should he, I say, blot out this manly grace,
And groveling turn to earth his blubbered face?
It were a shame: yet more shall he that saith,
He is a Christian and seems tohave faith,
For loss of friends; when there's no remedy,
Be passionate in such extremity,
That childish tears not only stains his face,
(Which may be borne withal in such a case)
But also raues, grows furious, and extends
His grief past reasons limits; who commends
A man for that Say, is it any less,
Then to deny by deed what words profess?
For who would think which fees how he bewails,
The loss of breath that in a moment fails,
That he believes, but rather think 'tis vain,
To hope or trust, the flesh shall rise again;
Or that there were, as holy Scripture saith,
Any
reward for them that die in faith.
It's a plain token of a misbelief,
When
Christians
so ore whelme themselves with greef
:
And therefore though I do not discommend,
The moderate bewailing of a friend;
I wish the Extreame hereof men might despise,
Least they do their profession Scandalize:
Beside though as I seemed to say before,
Vnles 't be common, 'tis no common sore,
Because it hurts but those that entertain it,
Yet were it good if all men could refrain it;
For it not only makes man's visage be
Wried, Deform'd, and wrinkled as we see,
Himself exiling from the common eye,
To vex and grieve alone, he knows not why:
But also brings diseases with his death,
By the untimely stopping of his breath.
•
t makes his friends to loath his company,
And greatly hinders his commodity,
For who for dealings in affairs is fit,
Unless with good will he attendeth it.
And howsoere it seem, yet surely this,
As far from virtue as bad pleasure is,
For as through one one we to much evil run,
So many good things th' other leaves undone:
I wonder that this
Passion
should touch,
The harts of men to make them grieve so much
As many do, for present miseries;
Have they no feeling of felicities,
That are to come? If that they be in pain,
Let hope give ease; It will not always rain,
Calmes do the roughest storms that are attend,
And th' longest night that is will have an end.
But 'tis still bad thou sayest, takeit patiently,
An age is nothing to eternity,
Thy times not here: Envy not though that some
Seeme to thee happy; their bad day's to come,
And if thou knew'st the grief they must sustain,
Thou wouldest not think so hardly of thy pain:
I must confess 'twas once a fault of mine,
At every misaduenture to repine;
I sought preferment, and it fled me still,
Whereat I greeu'd, and thought my fortune ill;
I vext to see some in prosperity,
Deride and scoff at my aduerstie;
But since aduis'd, and weighing in my mind
The course of things, I soon began to find
The vainenesse of them; these I saw of late
In bliss, (as I thought) scorning my estate,
I see now ebbing, and the once-full tide
That over-flowed the lofty banks of pride,
Hath left them like the sand shore, bare and dry,
And almost in as poor a case as I.
Besides, I viewed my days, now gone and past,
And how my fortunes from the first to th' last
Were linkit together; I observed, I say,
Each Chance and Deed of mine, from day today,
That memory could keep; yet found I none,
Not one thing in my life that was alone:
But still it either did depend on some
That was already passed, or to come;
Yea, the most childish, idle trifling thing,
That seemed no Necessity to bring;
In that hath the Beginnings oft been hid,
Of some the weightiest things that ere I did:
But chiefly to abate the excessive joying,
In worldly things; and to prevent th' annoying
Of any sorrow, this I noted thence,
(And ever-since have made it a defense
For both these passions) I have truly seen,
That those things wherewith I have joyed been▪
Highly delighted, and the dearest loved,
Even those very things have often prou'd,
My chiefest Care: And I have found again,
That which I deemed my greatest loss, or pain,
And wherewithal I have been most annoyed,
And should have deemed a blessing to avoid;
That which my heart hath asked for; and wherein,
I thought me most unhappy; that hath been
The ground of my best
•
joys: For which cause, I
Advise all men that are in misery
To stand vnmou'd, for why they do not know
Whether it be to them for good or no:
They ought not for to murmur nor to pine
At anything, shall please the powers Deuine
To lay upon them: for my mind is this,
Each sorrow is an entrance into Bliss.
And that the greatest pleasure we attain;
Is but a Sign of some ensuing Paine.
But to be plainer, this our life 's a toy,
That hath naught in it worth our
grief
or
Joy:
But there are some base-minded dunghill elues,
That sorrow not for any but themselves.
Or if they do 'tis only for the loss
Of some old crest-fallen lade; But that's a cross
Past bearing; be it but a rotten sheep,
Or two stale egs, they will such yelling keep,
As if thereby had perished a brood,
In which consisted half the kingdoms good:
But I entreat them since it must befall,
They would be patient; who can do withal?
And also let them of much Griefe beware;
For there's small ods between the same and Care:
And they have heard (I need not tell them that)
'It is an old saying,
Care will kill a Cat.
Then let them take heart, chiefly since they see,
None live but sometime they must losers be,
Which is an ease: for I have heard them tell,
With mates they care not, if they go to hell.
But in good earnest now let us not run,
Willingly hereinto as we have done;
Rather avoid it as a hurtful foe,
That can effect naught but our overthrow:
And yet instead receive into our breast,
An
honest mirth,
which is a better guest;
And whatso'ere our former grief hath been,
Let us nere sorrow more, but for our
Sin:
Thus with this
Passion
end the rest will I,
Because it ends not till our End is nigh.
THE CONCLVSION.
THus have I labor'd some Effects to show,
That do from men's abused
Passions
flow;
Which from example of old ages past,
And wise-men's Sayings, I might more have gracit▪
But that I am resolu'd to tie my
Rimes
As much as may be to the present
Times;
Also I might amongst these here have told,
The bodies Passions; as
Hunger, Cold,
Heat, Thirst,
and such like; but their force is seen,
And most men have sufficient careful been
For to prevent them; they last not so long,
Nor are by much so violent and strong,
Or dangerous as these: but if men knew,
Or with the eyes of
Reason
would over view
These foul-bred maladies, as sure they ought,
They would with greater diligence have sought
The cure of them, then of such slight diseases;
The which their bodies and no more displeases:
But now the reason men disturbed are,
For the most part with such preposterous Care
Is this; through their corrupted judgment they,
Do only on things seen depend and stay;
Which being most apparent to the sense,
So muffles up the weak Intelligence,
And blinds her that she hath no power to see,
The better things that more subsisting be;
When if they could conceive but half so well
The Souls Estate, they'd labor to expel
All these corruptions, that may cause her woe,
All those fell
Passions
that molest her so:
But some men have in this opinion stood,
That every passion's natural and good;
Indeed
Philosophers
the same do call,
A Motion of the soul that's natural;
And in some sort we may not be afraid,
For to uphold as much as they have said:
But thus we must distinguish on it then,
And make a twofold
Passion
in men,
Of which, one sort unto the best aspires,
And that alone, things merely good, desires,
Therein rejoicing; moderate, and weak
In operation; and the truth to speak;
We have it rather by God's
Inspiration,
Then bred within us at our
Generation:
The other, as th' effects thereof do show,
Doth by our own corrupted nature grow;
For it is head-strong, rash, insatiate,
Wondrous disordred, and immoderate,
Of which kind these are, whereof I have spoken,
And they are oft the cause men's sleeps are broken;
That 'tis which makes them rave, or grieve, or joy
So out of measure for a trifling toy;
Yea that 'tis only makes them oft so teasie,
Their friends seem troublesome, their beds uneasy,
And lastly, these are the occasions still,
Of all misfortunes, and of every ill;
Th' effects they do produce we also see,
Contrarie to their expectations be;
For he that hopes, or looks for to attain,
Great
Joy
&
Pleasure
haps on grief and pain:
But by what means may men these passions kill?
Sure not by the procuring of their will,
As some imagine. For first it may be,
A thing that's not in possibility
For to be reached unto. But say it were,
Will the
Ambitious-minded-man
forbear
To be Ambitious, if he once fulfill
His longing thoughts? No; he will rather still,
Encrease that passion which first he had
Or fall into some other that's as bad;
For altring the Condition or Estate,
The souls vexation doth no more abate,
Then changing rooms or beds doth ease his pains
That hath a
Fever;
since the Cause remains
Still in himself: But how and which way then
May these Diseases be recur'd in men?
Why by
Philosophy, Counsel,
and
Reason,
These being well applied in their due season
May do much good. Else seek the
Cause
whence rise,
These hurtful and pernicious maladies.
Let them consider That, and so they may,
Cut off the 'ffect by taking it away.
But if they cannot the occasions find
I will tell them 'tis a Baseness of the mind:
Or else a false Opinion that's in some,
Of
Good
or
Evil
present or to come.
Respecting good things thus: They do desire
And are to yehemently set on fire▪
With coveting what seems so; Or anoying,
Themselves with an Excessiue Ouer-joying,
In the obtaining. In regard of ill,
They are oppressed with some sorrow still;
So that we see if men would go about,
To change their minds, and drive that baseness out
Through Magnanimity, (And note well this,
That Passion but some false Opinion is,
Fram'd by the will, and drawn by the direction
Of Judgment that's corrupted by affection)
Me thinks they might by reasons help confound,
The former errors that have tane such ground,
In their weak Hearts, and learn for to esteem,
That which doth either good or evil seem:
(And in their souls such perturbation wrought)
As things not good, nor ill, and that which ought,
(Being unworthy) neither to molest,
Nor breed such Passions in their careful breast.
By these and other such like means as these,
The wise
Philosophers
in elder days
Kept out those furies, and 'twere now a shame,
If that we
Christians
could not do the same:
Having besides those helps whereon they staid,
A certain promise of a better aid,
If weele but ask it: Lets demand it then,
To rid these evils from our souls agen.
If that we feel them yet not stirring in us,
Let us prevent them ere by force they win us:
For 'tis more easy
(everyone doth know)
For to keep out, then to expella foe:
If any think I from my purpose swerve,
Cause my intent was chiefly to
observe
And not to
Teach;
let them not blame me though;
For who can see his friends lie sick, and know
Which way to cure them? But you will say my skill,
Cannot instruct you: yet may my good-will
Be worth accepting, and the other neither,
A thing to be rejected altogether:
For, I have seen when in a known disease
Doctors with all their Art could give no ease
To their weak Patient; a Country Dame,
Hath with a home-made medicine Cur'd the same:
And why not I, in this? Yes, I will abide it;
Being well us'd it helps, for I have tried it:
Thus much for that; but still there doth remain
Some observations yet for to explain;
I have not done, for I am further taskit,
And there's more Humors yet to be vnmaskit,
Wherein because I will not step astray
Nor swerve from
Truth
a jot beside the way,
I will say no more (least men should seem belide)
Then what my own experience hath espide;
And then if any frown, (as sure they dare not)
So I speak
truth,
let them frown still I care not:
But if my
Muse
you should so saucy find,
Sometime to leave her
Notes,
and speak her mind,
As oft she doth, when she but haps to see,
How
vain,
or
weak,
or
fickle,
most men be;
Yet blame me not, 'tis out of the good-will
I bear to you, and hatred unto ill:
Which when I see, my purposed Course I break,
Because, indeed, I am compelled to speak:
Yet think not, though I some where bitter be,
I count myself from all those Vices free;
Rather imagine 'tis to me well known,
That here with others faults I tell mine own.
The end of the first Book.
THE
SECOND
BOOKE.
OF
THE VANITY.
Inconstancy, Weak-nesse,
and Presumption
of Men.
PRECATIO.
THou that Createdst all things in a week,
Great God: whose favor I do only seek,
E'ne thou by whose sweet Inspiration,
I undertook this observation;
Oh grant, I pray, since thou hast dain'd to show,
Thy servant that which thousands do not know,
That this my noting of man's hum'rous Passion,
May work within
Me
such an Alteration,
I may be for my past offenses sorry,
And lead a life to thy eternal glory.
Let not
Ambition,
nor foul
Desire,
Nor
Hate,
nor
Envy
set my heart on fire,
Reuenge,
nor
Choller,
no nor
Jealousy,
And keep me from
Despair
and
Crueltie,
Fond hope expel,
and I beseech thee bless,
My soul
•
rom fear and too much heaviness.
But give me special grace to shun the vice,
That is so common; Beastly Avarice:
Yea grant me power I not only know,
But fly those evils that from
Passion
flow.
Moreover now Inspire my soul with art,
And grant me thy assistance to impart,
The rest of men's ill Customs, yet remaining,
And his vain humors; that by my explaining,
They may perceive how odious I can make them,
Blush at the reading and at last forsake them:
So let my Muse in this and things to come,
Sing to thy glory, Lord, or else be dumb.
THE SECOND BOOKE.
Of the Vanity, Inconstancy,
Weaknes, and Presumption
of MEN.
OF VANITIE.
SATYR. 1.
MY
Muse,
that now hath done the best she can
To blaze corrupted Passion bred in man,
Goes further here, and means for to undo,
Another knot of ill's he's prone unto;
From which, as out of the main root there grows,
All whatsoever evil,
Mankind
knows,
With thousands of bad
Humors,
of which some,
(Such as to mind by observation come;
As also, such as are the proper crimes
Of these ungodly and disordered
times:
)
She means to treat off: the chief heads be these,
(Consider of them
Reader
if thou please)
First
Wanton, and light-headed Vanity,
Next that,
Chameleon-like Inconstancy.
Then,
miserable Weaknes;
lastly this,
Damned Presumption,
that ore-daring is.
But ere I do begin this work, that I
May speak to purpose with sincerity,
Lord I beseech thee help me to explain,
And teach me to contemn the thing that's vain,
I have begun in thee this my endeavor,
And constancy I crave for to persevere;
Also my knowledge I confess is weak,
Yet through thy strength and truth I hope to break
These mires of sin, from which mankind, kept under,
Must be let loose (like beds of Eelles by thunder)
Then that I may man's pride the better see,
From all Presumption Lord deliver me.
Likewise disperse the foggy mist of sin,
That to my purpose hath a hindrance been,
And th' evil by thy wisdom I perceive,
Lord let thy mercy give me grace to leave;
That being free myself, I may not coldly,
Tax others faults but reprehend them boldly.
So having for this good assistance prayed,
My Muse goes forward trusting to thine aid,
To guide me in the Wildernes of Sin,
Great Vanities Survey:
for being in,
I see now 'tis an intricate Maeander,
In which (I fear) I shall confus'dly wander:
It is a Labyrinth so full of ways,
And seems so endless if my pen o
•
ce strayes,
As doth the Fisherman amazed stand,
That knoweth not, which way to row to land,
When all alone in some close misty day;
Far from the
Haven
he hath lost his way.
Knowing he may as well strike up the
Maine,
As turn unto the wished Shore again;
So I do fear least this may carry me,
Into an
Ocean
where no Sea-marks be.
Because what way so ere my course I bend,
There Vanity I see without all end;
Which hath not under her Subjection gained
Such things alone as are on earth containd,
Or underneath the Orbs of Air and Fire,
But reaches farther and encroaches higher;
According to his meaning, who said plain,
That all things underneath the Sun were vain:
But now I think it may a question be,
Whether the
Sun,
the
Moon and Stars be free,
For sometimes false predictions they impart,
Or are belied by abused Art;
But of
Man
only here my Muse must tell's
Who is by much more vain then all things else.
For
Vanity
his reason ouerswayes,
Not only on some certain Monthes or Days,
But is at all times in him resident,
As if it were his proper accident;
Neither doth age, in which he groweth on,
Any thing lessen the proportion
Of
Vanities
he had. But in the steed,
Of some rejected follies there succeed
Others as bad: for we perceive when boys,
Begin to Man, (ashamed of childish toys)
These then leave off, their former idle chat,
And foolish games; but what's the cause of that?
For being ill? No; rather they contemn
Those bad things as not bad enough for them;
And as one poor, plays first for points and pins,
Once growing rich leaves that, and then begins
To venture Crowns, dislikes not gaming though
He shun the first game as not fit enough,
For his estate; So young men do forsake,
The rope-ripe tricks, that their first age did take
Cheef pleasure in; not cause they wicked deem them
But being men they thinkit will not beseem them;
Then
Hounds
&
Haukes,
&
Whores
a
•
their delight;
Quarrels
and
Braules
do fit their humors right,
Disordred meetings, Drunken Reuellings,
Consuming Dice, and lavish Banquettings,
Proud, costly Robes,
this is the young man's
Vain,
The which his Elder doth dislike again,
Not since ill neither: But because his years,
Him unto other
Vanities
endeares;
As Self Conceit,
much
Care for worldly pelf,
Heaping up what he nere enjoys himself,
Prone to Contentions, much desiring still,
Be it his weal, or woe, to have his will.
Extreamely loving lies,
and
given to prate,
Yet making show as if he both did hate:
Yea old men boast of what they did in youth,
Which none disproouing we must take for truth:
And thousands more or else they are belied,
Each age is pestered with; and yet beside,
Vanities
•
proper unto each degree,
Millions of thousands I suppose there be.
Princes have these,
They very basely can,
Suffer themselves that have the rule of man,
To be oreberne by Villaines; so instead,
Of Kings they stand, when they are slaves indeed.
By blood and wrong a heavenly Crown thei'l danger
T' assure their State here (often to a stranger.)
They quickly yield unto the Battaries,
Of sly insinuating flatteries,
Most bountiful to fools, too full of fear,
And far to credulous of that they hear.
So given to pleasure, as if in that thing,
Consisted all the Office of a King.
But if here in my harmless halting Rimes,
Were only ti'de unto this Place and Times,
And should of none but of my Sovereign tell,
Spight of her heart she could not speak but well;
For (I suppose) the Truth I must confess.
That
Vanity
no Prince ere harbord less
Then JAMES hath done; unless corrupted stories,
Rob's former ages of deserved Glories.
If any say to sooth I now devise,
His heart I know will tell his tongue he lies,
For did I not think true what here I Sing,
I'd not wrong Justice for to please the King.
Great men are vain toe,
In much se
•
king Fames,
With
Nimrod
and his Mates; they raise their Names
By building Babels; yea and they suppose,
Honor consists in Titles and in shows.
They Thraso-like in Parasites delight,
That do in presence claw, in absence bite.
They use their Pleasures not as pleasures now,
Or Recreations as 'twere fit, but how?
'It is all their care, their chief and only joy,
In satisfying which; they do employ,
Both wealth and wit and all. if they would take
Somthing in hand for recreations sake,
They are wi
•
h pleasures so o'recloy
•
we see,
It must be that which their affairs should be,
A wondrous
Vanity! And their Care,
Is for rich raiment and the Curioust fare;
Pam
•
ring their flesh when all is but in vain,
For Dust it was and shall to Dust again.
Then since their evils we seem not to see,
In vain they think that they well thought of be;
Tush, men their lewdness cease for to repeat,
Why: cause th' are faultles? no because th' are great
•
But for their vices though now none dare show the,̄
Unless they mend another age shall know them;
And therefore if they count their Honors dear,
Let them be Good as well as Great men hear;
Let them leave Vanity and not suppose,
The World will ever blinded be with shows,
For that great mighty
Peer
that died so lately,
Ere while was mighty, powerful, and stately,
He was most croucht unto and oft implor'd,
Yea almost like a Demi-God adored;
He only (as myself have heard some prate,)
Was the upholder of the
Britain
State.
And all the wit this Kingdom did contain,
Some thought was harbor
•
d in his little brain,
Ahd had he lived (if all be true men say)
He might have well been
Pater Patriae.
But now alas hees gone, and all his Fame
You sees not able to preserve his name
From foul Reproach; but each one breaks his mind
Which shows though they winked they were not blind
In spite of all his Greatness, 'tis well known
That store of Rimes, and Libels now are sown
In his disgrace: But I hear diverse say,
That they are slanders, (then the more knaves they
That were the Authors) but if so it be,
He were from those vild imputations free;
If that his Virtue's paid with such a curse,
What shall they look for that are ten times worse?
Well Nobles I will the Court ere long suruay,
And if I find among you such as stray,
Through Vanity or Pride; unless it be,
Into some small faults through infirmity,
If there be no man that dare tax you for it,
My Muse shall do it e'ne to make me sport,
For though she keep but a plain hobling form,
She shall have wit enough to make you storm.
I will not spare you thus, til death do fet ye,
But rub you whilst you are alive to fret ye.
Yet do not think
•
mean to blaze your shame,
In scattered Libels, that shall want a name.
No; I hate that: I will tell the illes you do,
And put my name for witness thereunto.
Then 'tis but fetching me
ad Magistratum,
And laying to me
Scandalum Magnatum,
Which though you prove not, rather yet then fail,
You were best hang or clap me into Iaile
To stay my tongue; so much you may do to me,
And thats the worst I know that you can do me.
But whether runs my over-saucy Pen?
There's Vanity, besides in
Noblemen.
The
Gentleman,
for some repute but Vain,
Beyond his power oftentimes doth strain,
Our
Yeomen
toe that never Arms have borne
To Gentillize it makes themselves a scorn;
But their Gaine's envy, with a greater charge;
Yet of these fools the Catalogue is large.
Then ere that lesson be half taken forth,
They must ad Knight-hood or 'tis nothing worth:
Money may get it, therefore many sue it,
Although with shame and Beggary they
•
rue it.
And Credit they expect in vain thereby,
For it turns rather to their infamy;
Because it is bestowne without deserts,
And yet in troth our Knights have done their parts.
For most have well deseru'd it, but as how?
Brauely in field, en'e in a field at Plow.
But why look we in mere
Humanity,
For that which sauors not of
Vanity,
Since
Divine
matters cannot quite be free,
But with the same must oft corrupted be?
Divines,
strive not so much for to impart,
The truest
Doctrines
as to show their
Art:
The grace their speech more with vain words for sound,
Then with grave sayings, needful and profound;
But tis a vain thing, wondrous full of shame,
And in my judgment highly merits blame,
To paint over that whose beauty's never fuller,
Then when it shines forth in it proper
Colour.
Again they strive what
Ceremonies
fit
And best beseems the
Church,
mean while omit
More weighty matters; who that's wise would stand,
Like many wrangling spirits in this land,
Upon such idle Questions as they know,
'It is no great matter on which side they go?
And such as best in my conceit befits,
None but unquiet and
seditious wits.
Heeres my
Opinion:
be they not the chief
Grounds of Religion,
or the same
Belief
Salvation
comes by, that men go about
By their inventions for to bring in doubt,
Soit be not that they touch, (as sure they dare not)
Let all the rest go which way 'twill I care not,
Have not our Lawyers many vain delays,
Vnnecessary
Writs
and idle stays,
For to prolong men's suites? when they might foil,
The party faulty e'ne with half that quoile,
They'l for their fee relate some pretty tale,
Like the wise story of old
Jack i'ith vale,
Which (if they once have thoroughly begun)
Vndo them quite that tarry tilit be done.
Jack Do, Dick Roe
with whom y'ad never to do,
Theile bring to help your cause and God knows who
And for your benefit they can afford,
Many a foolish senseless idle word.
Which they I know will not account as vain,
Since that 'tis with a
Vengeance
brings them gain.
Besides as I suppose their laws they penned,
In their old
Pedlers French
unto this end
The
Vulgar
should no farther knowledge reach,
Then what shall please their
Maisterships
to teach;
Or else they have the self-fame policy,
As the Professors of damned
Papistry,
Who
Sacred writ
in foreign tongues concealed,
Least that their knauish tricks should be reueal'd.
What can they not in our own language find,
Words of sufficient force t' express their mind?
That cannot be denied, but tis a trouble,
So easily to counterfeit and double
In a known
Tongue,
when th' other but a few,
Can understand, but that obstreperous
Crew.
These make the laws almost to none effect,
Their courses are so wondrous indirect,
To them they favor they delays can grant,
Though
Justice
her due expedition want.
Sometimes upon one matter we may see,
That sundry judgments shall pronounced be;
Now theres a
motion
granted, next day crossed,
So
fee
and
labor's
to no purpose lost:
And still the
Clrent
shall be so deluded,
That when he hope's all's done there's naught concluded
Nay though we hear the utmost sentence past,
Which by all course of Law should be the last▪
Why then, I say, (though all seem wholly ended)
Yet may the
Execution
be suspended:
And for some trifle, to the poor man's terror,
Be called in question by a
Writ of Error.
So that the right oft yields unto the stronger,
When poor men's purses can hold out no longer.
Oh miserable state! what should we say?
May not the
Country
think themselves a prey
These
Ravens
live on? May we not suppose,
By their
delays,
and some such tricks as those,
They practice only for to cheat and gull;
And on our ruins fil their gorges full?
Yes questionless; for they, Themselves do raise,
Unto this height on other men's decays,
Not their own
Vertu
•
s;
Oh thoughit be too late,
Yet let me wish that we had kept the State
And Simple
Innocence
we once retained,
For then we had not of this ill complained,
Nor yet those moouers of sedition known,
(Now to a money-headed monster grown.)
But since that time is past, we may complain,
Yet must nere look to see those days again,
We have good
Laws,
but they too, seem in vain,
Since they according to each
Lawyers
brain,
May be now wrested too and fro to make
The matter good that he doth undertake;
I will say it plainly, and yet not bely them,
Theres few but
rich-men
can have
justice
by them.
And pray you judge now, is not that Law vain?
Which when it is enacted (to restrain,
Some
privilege
or
custom
that hath stood
As a great hindrance to the public
good
)
Should of it
Virtue
be so slightly gui'd,
As by a
license
to be disanuld.
Moreover there be some too much to blame,
Or
penal laws
are only laws in vain,
Made in
terrorem tantum,
to affright
And not for execution of the right:
And I may liken them unto those
logs,
That
Jupiter
threw down to rule the
frogs;
At first they come forth with such thundering terror,
That we do tremble to commit an error,
But in a day or two they are so still,
For ought I see, we may do what we will,
Unless that we be
poor;
or some despite us,
Then peradventure thei'le go near to fright us
A tweluemonth after; if so long they last,
Twenty to one then all the fury's past.
Did you but note it you would much admire,
To see how strictly
Justices
inquire,
On days of sitting, what Abuses reign,
How those they threate that slackly do complain,
How they will rail and fume, and chafe, and storm
As if all evils they would quite reform
Within a moment: But things
violent
Cannot you know be long time
permanent,
Nor is their
zeal;
for surely (God amend it)
One twice twelve hours will begin and end it.
But why are they so earnest then? oh know,
That the small
springs
within the dales below,
Glide gently on, until a
land-flood
fills
Their empty
channels
from the higher
hills.
But when thei'le swell until they can discharge,
Their
Burthens
in some
plain
to run at large,
So these
low Magistrates,
would gladly sleep,
And their own
easy
crooked
Channels
keep;
But when that any Streame of
Ivstice
showers,
And comes down to them from the
Higher powers
Then peradventure thele grow
big
a day,
And
Justice
shall have course the nearest way:
Yet in a little space she must be fain,
To run within their winding
banks
again.
Some falsely have affirmed
Iusti
•
e
blind,
Yet I am sure she knows how to find
(If that she be disposed for to look,)
Who gives her day-works by her
counting books.
Nay she knows
Capon, Turkey, Goose
or
Swan
And thee I warrant from another Man
What ere thou be: But whilst she sees so plain,
It is no wonder we have
laws
in vain,
Also when
Officers
do undertake
Their charge at first,
Lord
what a quoile they make
A drunkard
cannot with his capring feet,
Cut out Indentures, as he walks the street,
But he's straight stocked for it, or for his offense,
By fining to the poor he must dispence.
Then those perhaps that slackly do frequent
God's divine Service,
somewhat shall be shent;
And many other goodly deeds thei'le do,
But these grow quickly weary of them toe.
Again, sometimes comes out a
Proclamation,
Which threatens, on the pain of
Confiscation,
That no
Recusant
do presume to stay
Within ten miles oth'
Court
from such a day,
Yet sure 'tis notwithstanding meant, that some
Should daily to the
Presence Chamber
come,
And shroud within
a furlong
on it or two;
Some
Great-one's
may; and so I hope they do,
And by their own
Authority
no doubt,
May keep the rest from danger thereabout,
Pish, they at such a matter will but scoff
'Cause they know surely how to put it off.
Yet I will not say it is in vain; for why
The
Printer's
sometime set on work thereby:
And 'tis moreover for our satisfaction.
Who else might think the
State
were out of action,
But oh you noble
English Senators
Our Kingdoms
Guard,
and
Princes Counselors
How can you see your labors so mis-us'd?
Or brook, to have your
Sovereign
so abused?
Do you suppose that it deserves no blame,
To make a Scar-crow of the
Regal Name?
And to erect it on some common
stall,
For to be gaz'd on, to no end at all?
Respect it more; and use it not for course
Or fashions sake; but show it hath some force.
Pluck out those
Vipers
that for fear of harm
Their chilled spirits in your bosoms warm:
D'ye not perceive their stings? No danger fear yet?
Oh 'tis apparent let them not shroud near ye?
For if you do, 'tis doubtless the
Conclusion,
If God prevent not will be your
Confusion.
Yet all (for ought I see) should still remain,
Were there not some, who (out of
zeal
to Gaine
More then
Religion,
or their Countries weal,)
Their scuruie base conditions do reveal,
In begging and in rifling of some few;
But they their own corruptions rather show
Then redress any. More I here could utter
But I methinks already hear some mutter,
As if I should be sure of
R
•
mes great curse:
But then
•
'me sure I shall be never the worse.
Yea, let them go to
Rome,
curse, ban, & spare not,
I will sit at home and
laugh;
because I care not,
But why do I of
Laws
alone complain,
Since all Man deals in, is in some sort vain?
Religion
is with
Ceremonies
stuffed,
And with vain-glory and presumption puffed,
Now our
Alms-de
•
ds
and gifts of
Charity,
Are done for show and with
hypocrisy.
Yea, all's made
vain,
for if you would but view
Our
Universities;
indeed 'tis true,
There you may yet see, how that heretofore,
In better days, hath been erected store
Of
Palaces;
(whose curious build are still,
A fair remembrance of the work-men's skill)
Which, least that
knowledge
in the land should fade,
Were by the
Patrons
of good learning made,
That there the
Muses
shelter'd from the rages
Of former, present, and succeeding ages
Might safely live and not beholding be
To
Pyren
for his hospitality.
'It is also true, there wants not, to sustain
Their proper needs, nor yet to entertain
Such as desire
knowledge,
theres enough;
The worthy
Founders
have provided so,
But of these profits now why make they stay?
Best selit, or let some Courtier begit away.
For public Gifts are turned to private uses,
Faire Colleges are full of foul Abuses.
And their Reuenues I account as vain,
Because they lazy
Dunces
do maintain,
Who to themselves do claim the profits, by
Nothing but witless Seniority.
Such as save
Beard
(with reverence be it spoken)
Of profound learning have nor mark nor token.
Good
Founders
dreaming not of these Abuses,
Gaue them at first to charitable uses;
But we find now all altered, and the dues,
The which by right upon desert ensues,
Like
Offices in Court,
are bought and sold,
And places may be had, but how? for
gold,
There as else-where they now are grown so bad,
Without
Quid dabis
nothing can be had,
'It is strange to see what
Avarice
can do,
But are the Muses taken with it to?
Oh no? for they esteem such gain a loss,
And their high Spirits scorn such earthly dross▪
How then? There are some
Cormorants
crept in,
Who in their youth pretended to have been
Addicted unto
knowledge:
when alas.
It is well seen since that all their purpose was
To snort in ease; augmenting still their store,
Til they grow wealthy and their
houses
poor;
Foule
droanes,
whose voices must be hir'd with money
Steruing the
Bees,
while they devour the honey.
But oh you Birds of
Athens,
clear your
Hals
And drive those lazy
Hornets
from your
stals.
Through them it is men think you covetous,
They make your groves and walks grow scandalous,
But how will you discern them? Marry thus,
Since they have made themselves notorious
I will point them out; And though their heads they shroud
As
Venus
did
Aeneas
in a cloud,
I will so unmask them; if their ears they show
You shall be able to say, there they go.
First note them; there are some by Bribes and Fees,
Can soon pass thorough two or three
Degrees:
And if they sue for ought are not deni'de it:
When better
Students
must be put beside it.
Then there be others who their nests to fether,
Can keep in office nineteen years together,
Enforcing many unto penury,
To have wherewith to feed their
luxury.
Note you not some at fifty winters study,
That have their wits so thin and brains so muddy,
They must procure of other men to do,
The excercises they were called unto?
And sit there not of
Dunces
pretty store,
From Sun to Sun at every
tradesman
door?
Huge fat
Curm
•
dgeons?
tell me, I think no,
Do
Commons
of Three half-pence feed them so?
Or can such
puffs
so Humberkinlike set,
Into a
Pulpit
once in seven year get?
Sure if they do, their memory's so weak,
When they come there they know not what to speak,
Nor are they half so fit ifit came to proof.
To serve for
Pastors
as to hang at
Roofe,
It is no marvel then that blockish rout,
Retaine their places and keep better out,
For no good
Patron
that doth Conscience make,
Will unto them the Charge of souls be take:
Because if such, the flock of Christ should keep,
No question they would make but
Carion Sheep.
Then they must stay, yet in their stay thei'le be
A plague unto the
Vniuersity.
For over and above the mischeefes named
The
vice
for which the younger sort is blamed,
They are most guilty of; for forced to tarry,
Through want; and by their laws forbid to marry.
Thence springs it that the
Towns-men
are reputed,
Thus by a common voice to be
Cornuted:
For I have known that such have daily been,
Where younger scollers never durst be seen.
And all (unless that they have eyes like
Moles
)
May see those
Foxes
use the
Badgers holes.
Nor hath their lewdness in that action staid,
But on the place a fouler
blemish
laid.
Which here Indeed I do forbear to name,
Least it be to the place I love, a shame;
And for because I fear some spiteful mates,
May tax them with it that such dealing hates,
Brought in by them; for who is so impure,
But he that liveth like an
Epicure.
Oh
Mues
seek in time to root these weeds,
That mar your
Gardens,
and corrupt your seeds,
And you that are appointed
Visitors,
Who ought for to be strict
Inqui
••
tors,
To search the foul abuses of these
Times
And see them punished Oh! let these my
Rimes
Moue you for to reform this villainy;
Or let the hate of damned Periury
Stir up your zeal these evils to restrain
If not for love of
good
for fear of
pain:
Which else (though you set light as at your heel)
As sure as
God
is Just, your souls shall feel.
Do you not see now all the wondrous Cost
Of worthy
Benefactors
vainly lost,
The
Lands, Reuenues,
Customs, Charters, Rents
Which they have left for diverse good intents
Vainely employed; see the
Student
poor
For whom it was ordained stands at the door
And may not enter, whilst the golden
Ass,
Is quietly admitted for to pass,
And shroud himself within those sacred
gates,
Which wert not for commodity he hates.
You sacred
Genii
that did once attend
Those well devoted
Patrons
to their end;
Although your bodies be entoomb'd in claie,
Since you suruiue, because you live for aye;
Look down on your abused gifts and see, be,
What odds twixit th' use and your good meanings
Come and behold how the laborious sits,
Sharing some hungry Commons, scarce two bits;
And that but when a double
gauday
haps
Full glad alas at other times with scraps;
While that the
Lazy Dunce
on dainties feeds;
Oh come (I say) if you respect your deeds,
And fright them with some ghastly visions thence,
They may have more remorse for their offense.
If I could take on me some monstrous form;
I'd either make them their bad lives reform,
Or hare them quick to hell: But I am vain,
Thus for to invocate, or to complain,
Because I doubt this fault will nere be mended,
Until all evil with the world be ended.
Learning
is vain too, or so made at least,
Consider it, I speak it not in jest;
Do we not see that those who have consumed,
Halfe a man's age in
Schools,
and have assumed
Degrees of Art,
and howrely overlook,
Many a leaf, many a wise-man's book,
Still studying to know;
fellows
that can,
As they themselves think, put down any man,
That dares of
Predicables
to dispute,
Yea such as can to, if need be, refute
Knowne Truths;
and that in
Metaphisicall,
Much more I think in matters
Natural,
Seeme greatly read. Do we not see I say?
That these from study being tane away,
For some employments in the
Public weal,
A man would be ashamed to reveal
Their simple carriage? sooner theile speak
Treason,
Then anything that shall be law, or
Reason.
Ask their opinions but of this or that,
Thei'le tell a Tale they scarcely know of what;
And at the last you must be well apaid,
With
This the Poet,
or
This Tully said;
So other men's opinions shall be shown,
But very seldom any of their own:
What isit to heap up a great multitude,
Of words and sayings like a
Chaos
rude,
For to be able for to bring in
Plato,
Great
Aristotle,
with the wiseman
Cato:
And diverse more, yet like a blockish
Elfe,
Be able to say naught at all himself?
As if it were all well and he had paid it,
If he can once say,
Such a man hath said it.
Then by their actions, who gather can
They have more knowledge then another man?
Since they do worse absurdities commit,
Then those that seem their
Iuniors
in wit,
As if they thought it were enough to know,
And not with knowledge unto practice go.
Those may be learned and of learning p
•
ate,
But for affairs of
Country,
or of
State
In my conceit they are as far unfit
As
fools
and
mad-men
that have lost their wit;
And notwithstanding all their studious pain,
I count their learning and their
Knowledge
vain▪
But think not I, hold
Knowledge
vain to be,
Or all that in the
University,
Mispend their Times; vntiftting men to deal
About employments of the
Common-weal.
No; for I ever this accompt did make,
That there are those know best to undertake,
Great
Offices;
and surely such as have
Both knowledge and desert: yet shall they save
But their own credits: Th'other who are known
To have no gifts of nature of their own,
For all their knowledge gotten in the
Schools,
Are worse by much ods then
unlearned Fools.
Now thou that wouldst know rightly these men's state
Go but a while and talk with
Coryate
And thou wilt soon be able to maintain,
And say with me that
Learning's somewhere vain.
Then if there were ordained no other place,
Where
now-despised-Virtue
should have grace,
She were
vain
to, and those that loved her best
Were to be counted
vain
above the rest.
For they be sure, of these worldly Crosses,
And whosoere gain, theirs must be the losses,
Justice
is wanting so; for if that men
Commit an ill, the
Law
gives smart, but when
They do perform a virtuous deed 'tis hard,
There's no Law here that gives them a Reward.
Nay if a man by wrong suspicion be,
Brought unto any woeful misery.
If he be wracked and tortured so that Death
May pleasure him by stopping of his breath:
And if at last by proofs it doth appear,
That he of the suspected crime is clear,
Only he may his life by that means save,
But shall no other satisfaction have.
Yea, and he must be glad and well content
He hath his life for being
Innocent:
Whereof he would full glad have ridden been,
To scape the torments they had plunged him in,
It is mere
Injustice,
And I say again
For to be
virtuous
in this age 'twere vain;
But that it one day shall rewarded be,
By heavens
chaste justice
with eternity.
I will not here take pains for to reveal
The vain trades crept into our
Common-weal:
Only I will say, and so I think will any,
Would there were less, for such there be too many.
But I must needesly show their Sympathy,
Who make their treasures and felicity
Of things mere frivolous, As
Honor, Srength,
Pleasure,
and
Wealth, & Beauty,
which at length,
Yea in short time must Fade;
Titles
wrong placit
Without desert, are not alone disgracit,
And loose that reputation of their own,
But shame them too, on whom they are bestowne▪
What
Noblenesse
of
Birth
but merely
vain,
Unless that in the
linage
there remain,
Some noble
quality?
which in them bred,
They have deriu'd from predecessors dead?
What's Honor? but e'ne Smoke and Idle
〈◊〉
▪
A thing consisting only in a
name?
Which if you take away then you take all,
(For
Alexanders
glory was not small,)
Yet were he nameless, what would then remain,
For to inherit
Honor
for his pain,
Since that his best part from the earth is fled,
And toother though remaining here, now dead?
Then if that
Honor
do advantage bring,
To Soul nor Body, but doth wholly cling
Unto the name: who Care, or Paines would take
If he be wise, such
Trophirs
for to make
Unto the same, which may enjoyed be,
By many thousand other men, whilst he
Rots; and which three men's
virtues,
I will maintain,
Grace not so much as one man's vice shall stain?
Werit only for a
name,
that men did well,
And strove in
virtues
others to excel,
What good had
Simon
the
Apostle
gained
More then the wicked
Sorcerer
obtained?
And how should we give each of them his fame
Who living, being two, had but one name?
Were outward
Honor
all that
virtue
got,
He were a wise-man that esteemed it not.
But she's the bodies comfort till it die,
And souls
Companion
to eternity.
Vulgar Repute,
what is thereby acquired?
Why isit so glorious, and so much desired?
But I do chiefly marvel what they meant,
That have preferred it before their
content.
I hold it
vain
and wondrous frivolous,
Extreamely foolish, or ridiculous,
That any man should stand in greater fear,
What they do unto other men appear
Then their own
consciences;
or strive, (poor elues)
To seem to other,
God,
when to themselves
Th'are worse then
Devils;
why, I say, should they
With vain repute be so much borne away?
And why boast men of
strength
that lasts no longer?
And seeing the brute creatures are far stronger;
A woman may blind
Sampson
with her charms,
And little
David
slay a man at arms,
For
God
doth make, as holy Scriptures speak,
Strong things to be confounded by the weak.
Then some are vain in
pleasures,
like to him,
Who for because he in delights would swim,
In these his days to please his five brute senses,
Made twenty hundred crowns one nights expenses▪
I only cease for to declare his name,
Least he should hap to vaunt upon the same.
But why in
Beauty
should men glory so?
As well we may perceive there's many do;
Since 'tis no better then a fading flower,
That florishes, and withers in an hour.
It could not save the good King
David's
son
For being justly by his foes undone;
Nay, their's searce any that enjoy the same
Can keep unto themselves an honest
name.
We see moreover men vain-glorious grow,
In
building
and
apparel;
all's for show;
And yet the
Prince
that's gorgioust in array,
Must lie as naked as his
Groome
in clay.
And though that men to build so curious be,
How worthy of contempt it is we see,
In that th'
arch-King
of heaven, earth and all,
Was very well contented with a
Stall.
What mind are they in who suppose to raise,
By such a
vanity
an endless praise?
When as they daily see by observation,
Time
utterly decays the strongst
Foundation.
Where are those wondrous high
Pyramids,
That were admired at in former days?
And of those huge
Colossi
what remains?
(Which to erect now were an endless pains)
Nothing almost; no scarce his name that spent
The pain and cost of such a
Monument:
If that be so, how much more
vanity,
Is it to hope for fames eternity,
By such sleight trifles whose ground-work needs mending
Before the roof be brought unto an ending?
Again some think how e're their lives they spend
Yet if they can attain to in the end
A glorious
Funeral,
and be inter'd
With idle pomp and show, or be preferred
In a bald
Sermon,
for someone good deed
They did the
Common-wealth
for their own need,
Or by their own, or friends procurement have
On their unworthy scarce-deserved
grave
A goodly
Epitaph;
they think all's well;
Alas poor silly men! what can they tell
How long 'twill stand, before 't be razed down?
But say it bide a while, what fair renown,
Can in a piece of carved
Marble
be?
What can a guilded
Tomb
then profit thee?
Preserue thy fame? I know it cannot pass,
The wondrous
Heape
that once erected was,
And yet e'ne at this day doth now remain
Not far from
Sarum
on the
Western
plain,
Yet who can say directly, (or what story
Doth absolutely mention) for whose glory
That was first founded? or by whom? or why?
And if a Deed of such great wonder die,
Dost thou suppose by a few Carued stones,
Scarcely enough to cover all thy bones
To be
immortal?
If thou long to live
After thy death, why then let
Virtue
give
And add that living glory to thy name;
Let her sound forth the Trumpet of thy fame,
And it shall last; for she knows how to place it;
Nor
time,
nor
envy
shall have power to race it.
I say endeavor to be virtuous here,
So shall thy sacred
memory
be deer
To those that live, and whilst thy Body lies,
Entomb'd on earth, thy Soul shall mount the
skies.
But if in pleasure thou hast lived long,
And took delight in seeking blood and wrong:
When that the
evil day
shall come to end thee,
The curse of the oppressed shall attend thee,
Thy soul shall pay for it; and the self-same
Grave
Thou for thy
Honor
didst suppose to have
Shall be thy
Shame;
for those that travel by it
Shall often curse it, yea deride, defy it;
And to each other say,
There doth he lie,
That acted such, or such a villainy.
Then why should gay clothes be delighted in,
Since they are but a badge of our first sin?
And yet 'tis strange to know how many fashions,
We borrow now a days from sundry
Nations.
Some, but a few, in Irish trouzes go,
And they must make it with a
codpeece
too,
Some (as the fashion they best like) have chose
The
soruce diminitiue neat Frenchmans
hose
Another likit it once but now he'll chop,
Or changit as we say for the
Swiss slop;
And cause sometimes the fashions we disdain,
Of
Italy, France, Netherland
and
Spain,
Weele fetch them farther yet, for by your leaves
We have
Morisco
gowns,
Barbarian
sleeves,
Polonian
shoes, with diverse far-fetched trifles,
Such as the wandering
English
gallant rifles
Strange
Countries
for; Besides our
Tailors
know,
How best to set apparel out for show.
It either shall be gathered, sticht; or lacit,
Else plated, printed, iag'd, or cut and racit,
Or any way according to your will,
For we have now a days learned much vain skill:
But note you when these
geu-gaues
once be made,
And that this cunning
Master
of his Trade
Must bring it home, Then lies all the jest,
To see when the poor slave hath done his best
To mend what faults he can (for by his trade,
He can set right what Nature crooked made)
When he hath fitted to his power, and tricked,
Whom he would please; when he hath brusht & picked
E'ne till he sweat again: Yet (though he spies
Scarce any fault)
You Rogue
the
Gallant
cries.
A plague confound thee; look here how this sits,
Zounds 'tis a mile too wide; where were thy wits?
See, this is half too long that half too short,
'Sbloud I could find in heart to knock thee for it.
Then for the faults behind he looks in
glass,
Straight raues again and calls his
Tailor Ass,
Villaine,
and all the
Court-like
names he can,
Why I will be judged
(says he)
here by my man,
If my left shoulder seem yet in his sight,
For all this bumbast half so big's the right.
How is he seru'd? This day he should have went,
With such a
Lord
or
Lady
into
Kent:
To
Hampton Court
tomorrow comes the
Queen,
And there should he with certain friends have been,
Now he shall fail. Villaine go straight and mend it
And see with all the speed you can, you send it:
Or by my sword the
Gallant
swears he will
Make thee to wait twice twelu-months with thy
Bil
If e're he pay thee. Then the other takes it,
Carries it home again: turns, rubs, and shakes it,
Lets it lie still an hour or so, and then
As if 'twere altered bears it back again;
Then 'tis so fit, our
Gallant
cannot tell
That e're he had
Apparel
made so well.
Ere-while, says he, faith I was anger'd sore,
Why couldst thou not have done it thus afore▪
With many gentle speeches in amends,
And so these two
vain fools
grow quickly friends,
What shall Isaiah of our
superfluous fare?
Our beastly,
vain,
and too excessive care
To please the belly? We, that once did feed
On homely roots and herbs, do now exceed
The
Persian
Kings for dainties; In those coats
A man would think they lived with
hay and
•
a
•
es,
The
diet
they are grown unto of late,
Excels the Feasts, that men of high estate
Had in times past, for there's both flesh and fish,
With many a dainty new devised dish.
For bread they can compare with Lord's or Knights,
For they have raueld, manchet, brown and white,
Of finest wheat: Their drinks are good and stale,
For
Perry, Cider, Mead, Metheglin, Ale,
Or
Beer
they have great plenty of; but then
This cannot serve the richer sort of men.
They with all sorts of foreign
wines
are sped;
Their cellers are oft fraught with
white
and
red,
Be 't
French, Italian, Spanish,
if they crave it:
Nay
Grecian
or
Canarian,
they may have it,
Catepument, Veruage,
if they do desire,
Or Romney, Bastard, Capricke, Oley, Tire,
Muscadel, Malmsey, Clarey,
what they will;
Both head and belly each may have their fill.
Then if their stomachs do disdain to eat,
Beefe, Mutton, Lamb,
or such like Butchers meat;
If that they cannot feed on
Capon, Swan,
Duck, Goose,
or common household Poultry; than
Their storehouse will not very often fail,
To yield them
Partrich, Phesant, Plouer, Quaile,
Or any dainty fowl that may delight,
Their gluttonous and beastly appetite.
So they are pampered whilst the poor man sterues,
Yet there's not all, for
Custards, Tarts, Conserues,
Must follow to; And yet they are no let
For
Suckets, March-panes,
nor for
Marmalet.
Frute, Florentines▪ sweet sugar meats
and
spice,
With many another idle fond devise,
Such as I cannot name, nor care to know;
And then besides the taste 'tis made for show,
For they must have it
cullour'd, guilded, Printed,
With shapes of
Beasts
&
Fowls, cut, pinched, indented,
So idly that in my conceit 'tis plain,
That men are foolish and exceeding vain,
And howsoe'er they of
Religion
boast,
Their
belly
is the
God
they honor most.
But see whereto this
dainty time
hath brought us,
The time hath been that if a
Famine
caught us,
And left us neither
Sheep,
nor
Ox,
nor
Corn,
Yet unto such a diet were we borne,
Were we not in our
Towns
kept in bith'
foe,
The
woods
and
fields
had yielded us enough
To content
Nature:
And then in our needs
Had we found either
leaves,
or
grass,
or
weeds,
We could have lived, as now at this day can
Many a fellow-subject
Iris
•
man.
But in this age, if only
Wheat
do rise
To any extraordinary prize:
Of if that we have
Cheese
or
Butter
scant,
Though almost nothing else that is, we want;
Lord how we murmor, grumble, fret and pine,
As if we would upbraid the powers Divine;
Yea we provoke
God,
as sometime the
Jews
Did
Moses;
and with us it is no news.
But you that are so like to starve in plenties,
Because you are a little barred your dainties,
Leave of your
Luxury;
let me entreat;
Or there will come a
Famine
shall be great:
When
Soul
nor
Body
neither, shall have food,
Or anything to comfort them that's good.
We talk of scarcity: yet here there came
No want this twenty ages, worth the name
Of
Famine;
but our gentle God hath been,
Exceeding merciful unto our sin.
Wheat at ten shillings, makes no dearth of bread,
Like theirs; where once (we read)
an Asses head,
Cost four-score silver pieces; where
Doves dong,
Was highly pris'd: and mothers eat their young;
There famine reigned. Pray in the like we fall not;
If we can fast with
Nineveh
we shall not.
But truly much I fear the same, unless
We do leave off our gluttonous excess,
For though we quaffe and swill much time away,
Yet three set
Meales
will scarce suffice a day
To satisfy our lust; whereas but one,
Suffis'd our predecessors, sometime none.
It were a work too tedious to quote
The sundry vanities that we may note
Sprung from this
Greedinesse,
as our
Long-sitting,
A custom rather in my mind befitting
Pagans and Epicures, then honest men.
But 'tis a use now common grown; and then
This
Fo
•
lery
we have; we nothing deem
Worthy of our desire, or esteem,
Save that which we have either dearly bought,
Or far-away from foreign kingdoms brought:
Yea notwithstanding here in our land,
Those things be better; and more near at hand.
Yet we out of an idle humor are,
Much more affected to all
Forraine
ware
Then to our own: although the same be best.
So that this vainenesse doth not only rest
In meats, and in apparel; but 'tis shown
In many things; we least affect our own.
Our home-made
Cloth,
now
quoddam est inanum,
We are for
Serges
and
Perpetnanum;
With other stuff, as
Crow-grain, Chamblets, Rash.
And such like new devised foreign trash.
Yea though our native country-men excel
In any Trade, we like them not so well
As we do strangers: (and in very deed)
I think for vain inventions they exceed.
And then moreover when we do not want
Any good wholesome
herb,
or
fruit,
or
plant,
That may be necessary, fit or good,
Either to serve for
Phisick
or for food,
Yet those we leave, as if we did abhor them,
And send to seek in other
Kingdoms
for them.
So while we only make our use of them,
Our better home-bred
Simples
we contemn.
(Oh
Vanity
) our country yields enough,
What need we
Grecian
or
Arabian
stuff?
Why send we for them to those Countries thus?
'Twas planted there for them and not for us:
What though it help them of diseases there?
The Climate, yea, and our complexions are
So different, for ought that I can gather,
Heer 't may not help our griefs, but poison's rather.
My self have heard some
Travelers
to say,
That which will salve their wounds within a day,
That of the farthest
Eastern Countries
be,
Will not recure an
Englishman
in three.
Then sure if we should use that medicine here,
It would not help nor cure us in a year.
Trust me I think, this overmuch respecting
Of
Forraine Compounds,
and the still neglecting
Of our own
Symples
is the cause that we
So little better for our
Physic
be;
Some in their writings praise
Tobacco
much,
Perhaps the virtue of it may be such
As they have said, where first the simple grew,
But if it be replanted here a new,
From it own soil where natures hand did place it,
I dare not with those properties to grace it
Which there it had; nor can the
Virtue
bide
When 'tis transported to our region, dri'd.
Yet almost 'tis a wonder to behold,
How generally now both young and old
Suck on that foreign
weed:
for so they use it,
Or rather (to speak right) so they abuse it,
In too oft taking, that a man would think
It were more needful then their
meat
or
drink▪
But what's their reason? do not ask them why,
For neither can they tell you that, nor I:
Unless 't be this: So they have seen some do
Forsooth, and therefore they must use it too.
Nay, wonder not; The
Sun
lights not a
Nation
That more addicteth
Apish imitation
Then do we
English:
Should a stranger come
And wear his doublet fastened to his Bumme:
Pluck gloves on's feet, & put his hands in's shoes,
And we are his Rings and Jewels on his toes.
And come so tired to our
English
Court,
Attended in some strange preposterous sort;
Most of our
Courtiers
would make much ado,
But they would get into that fashion too.
For when they did but happen for to see,
Those that with
Rhume
a little troubled be,
Weare on their faces a round masticke patch,
Their fondness I perceived, sometime to catch
That for a
Fashion.
Nay, we cannot name
That thing so full of
Barbarism
and
shame
That they will not imitate: witness this
smoke,
Which though at first it was enough to
choke
Or stifle up the sense; though 'twere unpleasing
In taste and savor, oftentimes diseasing
The takers bodies; yet like men half mad,
Not knowing neither what effect it had,
Only because a
rude
and
savage Nation,
Tookit for some unknown need; thei'le makit a fashion,
Alas what profit
England
at thy need,
Hast thou attained to, by this
Indian weed?
What hath it lengthen'd life or maintained health
Or hath it brought thee more increase of wealth?
It dries superfluous moistures; dothit? indeed
Tane with discretion it may stand instead,
And surely it deserves to be excused,
Being with honest moderation us'd.
But I do greatly wonder what they meant,
That first did takit in way of
complement.
For now it is as common at each meeting,
As how d' ye, or, God save ye
for a greeting;
He's no good fellow that's without the
Pox,
Burnd pipes, Tobacco,
and his
Tinder-box:
And therefore there be some who scarce abide it,
Yet always will for company provide it;
With whom (though they alone the same eschew)
Thei'le take it till they spit and
cough
and
spew.
Me thinks they may as well since this thei'le do,
At all their meetings take
Purgations
too.
There's not a
Tinker, Cobbler, shepherd
now
Or
Rascall Ragamuffin
that knows how
In a blind
Ale-house
for to drink a pot,
Or swagger kindly, if he have it not;
You shall have some among them will not stick,
To swear that they are for
Tobacco
sick;
When by their ragged outsides you would gather,
It were for want of bread and victuals rather;
And so I takit; But now if you deny,
Th'
Affecting foreign drugs, a Vanity,
Yet you, I hope will grant, (because 'tis plain)
The using of
Tobacco
thus is vain.
I mean in those that daily
sit and smoke,
Ale
•
ouse
and
Tavern
till the windows roke.
And you must yield if ever;
Quod nunc sumus,
E'ne as the old
verse
says,
flos, foenum, fumus,
Some
vainly
much
acquaintance
seek to get,
And often in a strangers cause will sweat.
When none (unless someone for rarity)
Will to their
Kin
show love or charity.
The love of
men
some strive for to attain,
And they have just their labor for their pain▪
For what's the favor or the love of
Men?
A thing long getting and soon lost agen,
For
him
I know whose company hath seemed,
In my poor judgment to be so esteemed
By many, that in show he hath appeared
To be more nearly to their
souls
indear'd
Then their own
brothers;
And sure for the time,
(But that
inconancie's
a human crime)
He hath been so; For when he hath departed,
As if his
absence
inwardly had smarted;
Out of their
eyes
full oft against their will,
I have seen,
sorrow
look, and
tears
to trill.
And yet again hath my
experience
seen,
The self-same
man
that hath so made of been,
Even of those men he hath been so respected,
After some absence either much neglected,
Wholly forgotten or they so estranged,
As if their love and
good conceit
were changed.
Which having found, I weighed well the end,
And thought them
vain
that on the like depend.
Also methinks it makes me pretty sport,
To note the
Vainenesse
of the
greater sort;
How full of
Congees, curtesies,
and
greetings,
Embracements,
& kind words they be at meetings.
Or else what
Me
•
orandums
past between,
Of great good turns that nere perhaps have been,
What
commendations,
and
joys
there be,
For one another's good prosperity.
When howsoever they their malice smother,
They care not what becomes of one another.
To see me well, he's glad at heart, one cries,
When 'tis well known that in his heart he lies,
Another bids me welcome to my face,
When he would leave my presence for my place.
Yea and to swear it too he will not tremble,
Although he knows, I know he doth dissemble:
Which in my judgment is a
Vanity,
Too full of shameless gross absurdity,
And I much wonder men delight to spend
Time
that's so precious to so little end,
As to consumit in idle
Complement,
And not so much as to a good intent;
Crouching
and
kneeling,
when each
peasant
knows
Much courtesy, much craft:
the proverb goes.
A quality beseeming men I deemit,
For to be
Courteous
and I much esteemit,
Yet sure without good meaning tis unfit,
And extreme
vain
when men are cloy'd with it.
When some man's
Table's
furnished with store,
Of
Dainties,
that a
Prince
can have no more,
He'le bid you welcome,
though that by your cheer,
It doth not
(as he'le say himself)
appear,
And yet he sees and knows well that his
Bordes,
Have what the
Water, Earth,
and
Air
affords:
With
pray d'ye eat, I drink toyee, nay be merry;
And such like words; I oft have been as weary
To
thank,
to
pledge,
and say
I do not spare,
As ere was
Sommers
of his trotting mare,
But now I think of this, I will without ieasting,
Tell one absurdity l'ue seen in feasting,
Amongst my Countrymen; when one intends
For to be merry he bids home his friends,
And for them all things needful doth prepare,
That they may well perceive they welcome are;
Yea, he would have them frolic, and 'tis good,
A sign of
love
and honest
neighbourhood,
But then with all he oftentimes invites,
Som lofty
Statesmen
or proud neighbouring knights
Who all their merriment doth overthrow,
Because they look for
reverence
you know,
And he must be a slave unto that guest,
Contenting him, though he displease the rest.
Now thats his fault, were I as he, my
Boord,
Should never entertain that
Knight
or
Lord
In way of feasting; that allowed not
me,
To be as merry and as blith as
he;
Or that through his disdain would think amiss,
To bear some jests of mine as I bear his;
For who but fools would while their guest is baiting
Stand with bare heads like
Alehouse-keepers
waiting
(As if they were some strangers wanted cheering)
In their own houses? while they dominering
Say what they list; be therefore ruled by me,
Bid none but equals if you'le merry be:
At least let them be such as can abide,
To lay
Superiority
aside.
Moreover (if they have the providence
To bid their
friends
& keep these
mar-feasts
thence)
They are too lavish and do much deuize,
How they the
appetite
may best suffice.
But 'tis a sign their understanding's weak,
And they have small good matter for to speak;
It shows a shallow
pate
and muddy
brain,
When men have no discourse to entertain
Their friends withal, but
whiffes of smoke or drink,
Or
curious fare;
as if that they did think
They could not show their honest love, unless
They did abound in gluttonous
excess.
But there be many
greedy-guts
indeed,
That will find fault unless their
cates
exceed.
Such
Socrates
shows how to answer best,
Who having for his friends prepared a feast,
And hearing one to discommend his store
Told him directly,
friend
there needs no more,
For be they virtuous her's enough for such,
If otherwise (quoth he) there is too much
A fitter answer we can never find,
For such nice gluttons; differing in mind
From certain deer and learned
friends
of mine:
Whom, when I late requested for to dine
Or sup with me one night; would not agree,
Unless I dressed that they appointed me:
I will said I, and not a bit beside,
Why then (quoth they) we charge thee to provide
One dish,
no more, we love not him that crams,
And let our
second course
be
Epigrams.
Well, that they had with more good mirth & laughing,
Then those that had their dainties, & their quaffing,
Who can declare that
Vanity
man shows,
In hearing and reporting
idle news?
The foolish tales, and lies that he doth fain,
Are more then any numbers can contain.
And now I think on that same
lying evil,
A mischief first invented by the
devil,
I cannot choose but greatly wonder why,
Men should delight so in that
Vanity.
It is not only vicious and base,
But also doth their credits quite deface.
And
truth
out of their mouthe
•
is mis-esteemed
Because, oft lying, they are liars deemed.
I mean not any falsehood to maintain,
No though they be
officious,
or for
gain.
Yet worst like them, who their wits bo bend
To invent tales unto no other end.
But for to find the company some talk,
And cause they love to hear their own tongues walk
Some I have known (judge of their
Vanity
)
They have told tales to their own infamy;
And yet untrue, 'tis like they have small care
Of others credits when they will not spare
To wrong
th
•
mselues:
Another crew beside
Among these
lie
•
rs
I have also spide,
Who, as it may appear, do like so well,
Strange news, and matters past belief to tell,
That notwithstanding they do surely know,
It makes not only modest ears to glow,
But that 'tis known they lie, yet still they dare
Gainst
Truth, their own,
&
all men's knowledge
swear.
Yea, when they may as well, and speak as right,
Swear that each man is blind, and all Crows white
Oh too presumptuous and lewd offense
Sprung from a brazen,
•
ellish
impudence!
Then there's a number to, that do suppose,
All that beyond their
little reason
grows,
Is surely false; And vainly do uphold
That all reports which
travelers
unfold
Of foreign lands are lies; because they see
No such strange things in their own
parish
be,
If that I may not term such fellows
vain,
I will say th'are
dull
and of a shallow
brain.
And him I count no wiseman that imparts,
To men of such base misconceiuing hearts
Any rare matter, for their brutish wit,
Will very quickly wrong both him and it.
For thus the saying goes, and I hold so,
Ignorance only, is true wisdoms foe.
Then thou art vain that wilt vouchsafe to spend
Thy breath, with witless
fools
for to contend
In
weighty matters;
when it is well known
Thei'le like of no opinions but their own.
Euer disabling what thou dost recite,
Yea notwithstanding it be never so right.
And be their own case false, and all amiss,
They'le prove it
true;
How? Thus:
Because it is.
So if there be no more
wise men
in place,
Thou bear'st the shame, & thei'le have all the grace.
And yet the mischief hath not there an end,
For tell me, you that ever did contend
With such; is not their wayward
disputation
A mere confusion and a strong vexation?
I know 'tis so; for I myself have tried it,
And since that time could never yet abide it;
But let those follow
Vanity
together
With
purb
•
ind ignorance;
and I will send thither
To keep them company, those that take pleasure
In tedious discourse, they be at leisure,
And those that love to hear their owue tongue
•
es walk
Or still seek out occasion for to talk
Shall not stray from them: Yet I have beheld
More
Vanities
which must not be concealed.
As foolish
wishes:
Many a
silly Ass,
Couets those things that cannot come to pass.
Another
that in wishing is as heedless,
Desires some trifling babbles which are needless.
Nay, I have heard, without regard of shame,
Such beastly
wishes
as I blush to name,
What damned infernal
curses
can each brother,
In every
angry fit
wish one another?
When such as these their jesting words thei
•
e make ye
A Pox, a Pestelence
and
a Murraine
take ye.
Which if the
Lord
should in his justice send them,
Their own
vain wishes
would e're long time and thē.
Some
free-borne
men I have observed too
Who are thought wise, yet very vainly do.
These, as if they lackt troubles of their own
For other men are slaves and drudges grown.
I tax not such as honestly have stood
In the mainetaining a poor neighbors good.
But rather those who are so out of measure
Giuen to be for other men at leisure:
That they can find almost no time to be
Emploid about their own commoditee.
Others
there are, more knauish, and as vain,
Who seeming careful of an others gain,
Intrude themselves into their actions; when
'It is not for any good they wish the men,
But for this cause, and sure for nothing more,
In each man's
boat
they love to have an
oar.
'It is good men look to their affairs, but yet,
I hold it for a
vain
thing, and unfit
They should be vexed with such extreme care
In following them as I perceive they are:
For unto me it seems, the
greatest part.
Take business not in hand now, but in heart.
What mean our wealthy
Usurers
to hoard
More up for
others
then they can afford
Unto
themselves?
whereas they do not know
Whether it shall be for a friend or foe.
Sure such me thinks should be deservedly,
Recorded for their sottish
Vanity.
Now as these too well, of the
world
do deem,
So others make thereof too small esteem:
As of a thing whose use were of no weight,
But both are led away with
Vain conceit.
Then some man's care is, that when this life ends,
He dying, may be buried with his
friends.
As if he feared his
foes
had not forgotten
To do him mischief though their bones were rottē
Others
extremely are distempered
To think what men will do when they be dead.
And vainly sit, (More wit God one day send)
Lamenting what they know not how to mend.
For worthless matters some are wondrous sad,
Whome if I call not vain, I must term mad.
If that their
noses
bleed some certain drops:
And then again upon the sudden stops.
Or if the babbling foul we call a
Iay,
A
Squirrel
or a
Hare,
but cross the way.
Or if the
salt
fall toward them at table,
Or any such like superstitious bable,
Their mirth is spoild, because they hold it true
That some mischance must thereupon ensue.
But I do know no little numbers be
Seduced with this foolish
Vanity:
And questionless although I discommend it,
There wants not some that stoutly will defend it,
But all their proof is only this, I know
By daily trial they do find it so.
Indeed 'tis true,
God
often by permission,
To see if they will trust to
superstition
More then to him, doth willingly supply,
What they so looked for by their
Augury.
Then some for to be deemed men of State,
Of nothing but the
Court
-affairs do prate,
If they but come amongst us
Countri-men,
Lord what
Magnificoes
they will be then.
Yea though they blow but the
Kings Organ-
•
ellows
We must suppose them
Earls
and
Barons
fellows
Or else we wrong them: 'Twas my chance to light,
In a friends house, where one of these that night
Tooke up his lodging; At the first I deemed him
A man of some great place and so esteemed him;
And be took me for some soft
Country
gull,
Thinking my wit (as tis indeed) but dull,
But I perceived his pride, I must confess,
And seemed as If I had a great deal less.
I made him more fine
congees
by a score,
Then ere he had at
Court
in's life before,
The
worship,
and the
Honor
too I gave him,
But from the charge of either I dare save him.
Yet my high terms so pleased the
Courtiers
vain,
That up he rips me news of
Fra
•
ce
and
Spain,
Of
Germany,
of
Denmark,
and of
Sweed;
And he had
French
store, thereof I took heed,
Then next he tells me all their life at
Court,
Relates
St. Georges
shows and
Christmas
sport,
With such like talk; which I in show desired,
And (as if I had never seenit before) admired:
Which he perceiving falls for to devise,
More
strange reports,
and tells me sundry lies,
Which still I wondered at; and in his talk
I noted though his tongue did ever walk
He never spake of others then the best,
For
Earls,
and
Lord's,
and
Ladies
were the least
I heard him mentioning; when sure the fool,
Is but some servant to the
Groome o'th stool.
But howsoever for this once he passes,
To show the
Nature
of his
fellow-Asses,
I am afraid 'twill be to little end,
If I should words and precious leisure spend,
To tell our
Gallants
what vain, frivolous,
Discourse they have, and how ridiculous
They are at
meetings;
I have been for
laughter,
Often beholding to them a week after.
And trust me I will not give a
cue
so soon,
To see an
Ape,
a
Monkey,
or
Baboone
Play his forced tricks, as I would give a
tester,
To come and view them and their apish gesture,
When they are either frollick in their
Cans,
Or courting of their light he'ld
Curtezans
They think themselves fine men, I know they do,
What will they give me and I will think so to,
And yet I shall not sure, do what
I
can,
They have so little in them that is man.
For my
few years
hath noted many fruits
Producted in fine silks and satten suits
Worth observation: I could recite,
Their brave behavior in their Mistress sight:
But sure thei'le nere endureit, they cannot doit,
Yet if I list now I could force them toit,
But I spare them; they are beholding to me,
And may perhaps as great a favor do me.
But faith I may not, nor I cannot hold
Nor keep in all their
vanities
vntol'd:
At least one humorous trick I must not miss,
Which lately I observed; and that was this.
Two
lads,
of late, disposed to be merry,
Met at a Town not far from
Canterbury,
Where though their business scarce would let them stay,
They'd frolic out a night, and then away;
So there they supit and slept, where I let pass
To tell their mirth in what good fashion 'twas:
But as I heard the
parish clock
strocke one,
Before their merry-mad-conceits were done:
And then they went to bed, where I dare say
They'd more devotion for to sleep then pray.
Next morne th' one awaking suddenly upstart,
And lightly gert out such a boisterous—
It wakit his
fellow,
who suppriz'd with wonder,
Leapt up amazed and swore he heard it thunder:
And where there was a storm or no, 'twas sed,
The
chamber-pot
ore-flowed and drowned the bed.
Then having prayed a
curse
or two, th' one rises,
Yea, of his business with himself devises,
And thereupon like a
considerete man,
Sweares he will thence with all the speed he can,
Come prithee rise
(quoth he)
and lets begone,
Why go
(quoth th' other)
I will come anon,
Zonnds hark,
I
think the clock striks eight, why when?
Oh soon: enough to breaks my fast by ten.
Then
Chamberlain
one calls aloud,
dost hear?
Come bring us up a double Iugge of beer.
So either having drunk a good carouse,
Down come the Gallants to discharge the house,
But taking leave, oh what d' ye think they mist?
Their
Hostesse
(pretty woman must be kist)
Then up she's called, and in her night attire,
Down claps she on a stool before the fire;
Where having bid her welcome from her nest,
Come say
(quoth he)
what Wine isit you like best?
Truly
(quoth she) I
use to drink no wine,
Yet your best morning's draught is Muskadine:
With that the
Drawer's
called to fill a quart
(Oh! 'tis a wholesome liquor next the heart.)
And having drunk it, whilst their heads were steady
They bad the Hostler make their horses ready
Nay
(quoth the Hostesse)
what needs all this hast?
In faith you shall not go til dinner's past;
I
have a dish prepared for the none's
Arich Potato Pie, and Marrow-boxes;
Yea and a bit which Gallants,
I
protest,
I
will not part with unto every guest;
With that the
Punies
laid aside their cloaks,
The glasses walk, and the
Tobacco
smoakes,
Til dinner comes, with which whē they are fraught
To get on horseback by and by tis naught.
As having supt'ts good to walk a mile,
So after d
•
nner men must sit a while.
But what? will they sit idle 'twere a shame,
Reach them the Tables, they must play a game:
Yet set them by again, for now I think
They know not when to leave, thei'le rather drink
A
health
or two, to some especial friend,
And then ifaith they mean to make an end,
Then one calls
Drawer,
he cries
What d' ye lack?
Rogue bring us up a Gallon more of sack,
When thats turned up,
Zounds
one will drink no more,
But bids the Hostler bring his horse to door:
The fellow might perform it without stay,
For why? they had been bridl'd up all day.
Then like good husbands without any words.
On went their cloaks, but first of all their swords,
But stepping out of door their
Hosts
meets them,
And with a full filed boule demurely greetes them.
This was her
pint,
but thei'l give hir the tother,
Which drew the third down and the third another,
Until these
Gallants
felt their heads so addle,
Their bodies scarce could sit upright it'h saddle.
Then for to settle their vnsteady brain,
They fell to their
Tobacco
once again;
At which they sucked so long, they thought no more
Of the poor Iades, which they left ty'de at door▪
Til that the
Sun
declinde unto the West,
Then starting up th' one swore he thought 'twere best,
That they went thence; and to his fellow said;
Come we shall be benighted I am afraid,
What if we be
(quoth tother)
by this light,
I know the time when I have rod all night.
By twelve a clock I will be at home I vow,
Yet Hostesse, by this kiss, I will sup with you.
And so they did, but after supper th' one,
Hastens the other that they may be gone;
Nay be advised
(quoth his copesmate)
hark,
Let's stay all night for it grows pestlence dark.
I marry
(quoth the Host)
persuaded be,
There's many Murthers now I promise ye.
I will bid my servants to shut up the gate,
No guest shall go out of my house so late.
No surely
(quoth their Hostesse)
by S. Anne,
You may be mischieft, stay and make a man.
Well, thei'le be ruld for once, but swear thei'le go
The following morning ere the cock do crow.
Introth at farthest, ere the day gives light,
Then having kist their
Hostesse
ouernight,
To bed again these roystering youngsters went,
Forgetting whereto they before were bent.
But when the
Morne
her turn again did take,
And that it grew high time for them to wake;
Then up they busteld and began to lay
The fault from one to t' other, of their stay.
For this
(the first said)
we may thank your sl
•
th,
(But I think therein they were guilty both)
Nay
(quoth the other)
might you have your will▪
You'd drink Tobacco, and be quaffing stildl
Who
I (quoth he)
I weigh it not two chips,
I could not get you from my Hostestesse lips.
You do me wrong
(said th' other)
for I swear,
I seldom touched them, but you still hung there.
To bear the burden he grew discontent,
And swore he would not drink before he went.
But called,
Our horses Ostler quickly, and our wands,
And sirra Tapster water for our hands:
(Quoth t' other)
youle be ruled yet I think?
Prethee let me entreat thee for to drink.
Before th
•
u wash; Our fathers that were wise,
Were wont to say, 'tis wholesome for the eyes.
Well he will drink, yet but a draught at most,
That must be spiced with a nut-brown
tost.
But then 'twere good they had a bit beside,
For they considered they had far to ride.
So he that would not drink, a late for hast,
Is now content to stay and break his fast.
Which e're 'twere ended, up their
Host
was got,
And then the
drunkard
needs must have his pot,
And so he had: but I commend my
cozen,
The
Cuckolds
one Can, cost the fools a dozen.
But then perceiving they began to stay,
Quoth Guts,
my bullies, hark ye, what d' ye say?
Can you this morning on a rasher feed?
Oh yes say they, that's Kingly meat indeed;
They asked it, and they had it; but this cheer,
Quickly drew down a dozen more of beer;
Which being drunk, they had got out of Town,
But that their
Hostesse
was now new come down,
With whom they spent ere they could get away
In kissing and in quaffing half that day.
And five times as I heard they took the pain,
To get on horseback and come off again
But at the last just as the clock struck two,
They were the sixth time horsit with much adoo:
But then, as 'tis the
drunkards
use, they sat
Tipling some hour and a half at gate.
So that the night drew on apace and then,
Thither came riding other Gentlemen.
And meant to lodge there; they had friendship shown.
T' other were stale
Guests
and their money flown.
Their honest
Host
for all their large expense,
And former kindness, quickly got him thence:
Yea their sweet
Hostesse
that so worthy deemed thē,
Slunk out of sight, as if she naught esteemed them.
And as most will, except a very few,
She left her old
Guls
to enter league with new,
Who at their parting thought for to have kist her,
But were so drunken that they ever mist her.
For there they quaft so long they did not know,
Which way, nor whether, nor yet when to go.
That some suppose, yea and they think so still,
Their horses brought thē thence against their will.
For if so be that they had wanted wit,
(To come themselves) the
fools
had been there yet
If you 'twas made by, read with discontent,
You are too blame, none knows by whom 'twas meant
There is no cause you should dislike my
Rime,
That learns you wit against another time.
When others are thus vain, could you forbear it;
And note the follies in 't, you would forswear it;
As kind's your
Hostesse
seems, yet this is plain,
She'l flout, and use the next as well for gain.
Now what do you unto these Gallants say,
Were they not pretty witty ones I pray?
It may be they will frown at this, 'twere fit,
And I am very sorry for it; but yet,
One
humor
more which I have noted vain,
For to be told of, they must not disdain.
It may annoy them if they do not mend it,
Yea notwithstanding they so much defend it,
'It is this; they too much of their valor vaunt,
And so extremely for vain-glory haunt,
That for to get themselves a valiant name,
Or peradventure half an hours fame
Thei'l hazard life and limb, yea soul and all,
Rather then in their bravery thei'l let fall
That
vain Repute:
Oh silly senseless men!
What will the breath of fame avail you, when
You lie in dust and molded up in clay?
Perhaps you shall be spoken of a day,
In some poor
village
where your bodies lie,
To all the earth besides your fame shall die.
And it may be whereas you look for glory,
You shall but serve for to make up the story
Of hare-brained fools: so how soere some deem you
Men that have understanding will esteem you.
But yet there is a crew that much anoyes
The
Common-weal,
some call them
Roaring-Boys
London
doth harbor many at this time,
And now I think their
Orders
in the
Prime:
And flourishing estate. Divers are proud,
To be one of that
Brotherhood
alow'd.
And reason too, for why they are indeed
No common fellows, but they all exceed.
They do; but oh! Now wherein is it think ye?
In
villainies;
for these be they will drink ye
From morne til night, from night till more again,
Emptying themselves like
Conduits,
and remain,
Ready for more still: Earth drinks not the showers,
Faster then their infernal throat devours,
Wine and strong liquors:
These be they will swear,
As if they would the veil of heaven tear,
And compel
God
to hear their blasphemy
These are the
Patrons
of all
villainy;
Whoores
Champions; Deceit and
treachery,
With the most loathsome vice of
lechery,
Is all their practice.
Thunder
when it roars,
Ioynd with the raging waves that beat the shoares,
Together with the winds most rude intrusion,
Make not a noise more full of mad confusion,
Then do these helhounds where they use to houze
Or make their most uncivil
rendeuouze:
For a more Godlesse crew their cannot well,
Be picked out of the boundless pit of
hell.
Yet these base fellows (whom I must confess,
I cannot find words able to express)
Are great men's darlings, (As some understand)
The absolutest
Gallants
in this land,
And only men of spirit of our time;
But this opinion's but a
vulgar
crime,
For they which understanding have, see plain,
That these and all their favorites are vain.
And sure 'twere good if such were forced to give,
A strict account by whom and how they live.
Thus have I brought to light as well's I can,
Some of the
Vanities
I'ue seen in man.
But I do fear in taking so much pain,
I
have but shown myself to be most vain;
Because I have spent time, and reprehended
That which will never the sooner be amended,
But yet there's hope it may, and therefore I
Will say thus much more; that this
Vanity
Consisteth not alone in
words
and
works,
It hath tane root within, and also lurks
About the heart; and if it there be sought,
I know it also may be found in
thought,
And that it is makes one man sit and plot,
What is by traffick with
Virginea
got.
What it may cost to furnish him a fleet,
That shall with all the
Spainish Navy
meet,
Or how he may by Art or practice find
A nearer passage to the
Eastern Inde.
When as perhaps (poor fool) besides his coat,
He is, not worth a
Portsmouth
passage boat,
Nor never means to travel so much
sea,
As from
High-ferry
to
South-hamp on-key.
Another wood-cock is as fondly vain,
And to no purpose doth molest his brain,
To study if he were a
Nobleman,
What kind of carriage would befit him than:
How, and in what set words he would complain,
Of the abuses that he now sees reign:
Where he would make his place of residence,
How he would keep his house with Providence,
And yet what plenty daily at his door,
Should be distributed unto the poor,
What certain
Sheep,
and
Oxen
should be slain,
And what provision weekly to maintain
His
Lordly
port; How many
serving-men,
He meant to keep, and peradventure then,
What pleasure he will have, as hawks and hounds,
What game he will preserve about his grownds:
Or else he falls to cast what profits clear,
His gifts and bribes will come to in a year.
How he'le put off his hat, cause people than
Shall say he is a
courteous Noble-man.
Then upon this again he falls to plot,
How when that he the people's love had' got,
If that the King and all his kindred die,
And if none may be found for to supply
That
Regal
office, the respect they bear him,
Unto that
Princely dignity
may rear him:
Then too his thoughts, on that estate so feed,
That he forgets quite what he is indeed,
And if a man could hit so just a time,
To come upon him when his thoughts in
Prime:
And give him unawares a sudden knock;
Conceit his understanding so would lock,
That I suppose because it stands with reason,
He would go near hand for to call out,
Treason:
For oftentimes men's hearts are so annoyed,
With those vain thoughts whereon they are imploid,
That for a time they so forgetful grow,
Nor what they are, nor where, they do not know,
But now since you may see there doth remain,
Nothing in man but is in some sort
vain;
And since I must be driven to confess,
His
vanities
are great and number-less,
I will go no farther in this large
Survey,
For fear Discourse should carry me away;
And peradventure so I may become,
Less pleasing, and more tedious to some;
Which to avoid, though I no end espy,
Yet hear I end to treat of
Vanity.
OF IN CONSTANCY.
SATYR. 2.
YEt theres another property in men,
That means to set my
Muse
to work agen,
In constancy,
and that no other is,
Unless I understand the same amiss,
But an unsettled humor of the mind,
Which so unstable is it cannot find
By any study that Opinion,
Of which it dares to be resolved on.
'It is mere
Irresolution
and
Estranging
For what is purposed by a fickle changing.
But since this vice I mean for to detect,
Women
I know will earnestly expect
To be sore raild'on, but I will gently use them,
Because I see their consciences accuse them,
And notwithstanding they deserve much blame,
Yet I will not tax them by their
proper name,
So they will think I also mean them, when
I use no more, but this bare name of
Men:
And though their faults I seem not to upbraid,
Cause nothing of them is directly said;
Yet they, I hope will nere the more disdain,
To be thought
fickle, proud,
and
weak
and
vain.
But now for
men;
whereas I did complain,
He both in
Dee
•
and
Word,
and
Thought
was vain
••
So I in this (I see) the like may do,
Since he in all these is
inconstant
to.
And first it is a wonder for to see
His actions how mutable they be;
He labor's now, and's altogether set
Upon the
world
how he wealth may get,
Upon a sudden; then he thinks to mend it,
He's in a humor then he means to spend it:
Somtime he is consenting with the
Devil,
And ready to do any act that's evil.
The which, perhaps, repenting, some divine
Or heavenly matter doth his thoughts refine.
So that he is resolu'd to spend that day,
In reading what
God's
holy Prophets say;
Whlch in his mind it may be worketh so,
He leaves it, and will to a
Sermon
go;
Where by the way a Bill he doth espy,
Which shows there's acted some new
Comedy
Then thither he is full and wholly bent,
There's nothing that shall hinder his intent,
But ere he to the
Theater
can come,
He hears perhaps the sounding of a
Drum:
Thereat he leaves both
Stage-play
and
Devotion,
And will forsooth go see some idle motion;
Ere he gets in his rolling wandering eyes,
Beholds some
Fencer
pressed to play his prize.
Faith then there is no remedy he'le see 't;
But e're he can get half-way over the street
Some very near acquaintance doth salute him,
Who for a miser would perhaps repute him,
Unless he kndly offer to bestow
The
wine
or
beer
at least, before he go?
Well then he will; but while they do devise,
What wine to have, perhaps they hear the cries,
And howling which the eager
Mastiffes
make,
When they behold a
Bull
or
Bear
at stake.
Oh, on a sudden then they will be gone,
Thei'le see that first and come and drink anon,
But just as he out of the
T
••
ern
•
peepes,
Some gallant
Lasse
along before him sweeps:
Whose youthful brow adorned with beauty trim
And
lovely-making
doth so ravish him,
As if that he were bound for to attend,
He leaves Play, Fencer, Wine, Bull, Dogs, and Friend.
By which we see his mind doth always vary,
And seldom constant on one subject tarry.
But still that thing with most desire is sought,
Which happens for to be the last in
thought.
One while he likes best of the
Country sport,
Anon prefers the pleasure of the
Court.
Another while his mind is all in
Spain,
Then beyond
Nile,
and straight here again.
Now he thinks highly of a
single life,
And hateth
Marriage
as full of strife:
And yet e'ne in the turning of a hand,
He's glad to make a
Jointure
of his land,
And woo with much entreaty to obtain,
A
wife
which he did but of late disdain.
One while he zealously professeth
Christ,
But shortly he becomes an
Athe-ist,
In
Turkey
he will
Mahomet
adore,
Among the cursed Pagans can implore
A
Carued stone;
In
Rome
he hath professed
The worship of that
Antichristian
Beast;
And yet in
England
here with us he grants
No sound
Religion
but the
Protestants.
And not alone according to the place,
Can these
Chameleons
alter thus their case;
But for a shift themselves they do apply,
To answer both the
Time
and
Company.
Gallants
shall find them Formal, young men Wild▪
Plain men shall think them Simple, old men Mild.
And for the time with
Edward
they will be,
(I will warrant)
Protestants,
as well as he.
And when his Sister
Mary
comes to Rain,
They can be
Papists
easily again.
Nay I do fear me though we have had teaching,
And almost threescore years the
Gospels
preaching
Vnconstant mankind is so prone to ill,
(And to be changing hath so good a will)
Too many both of old men and of youth,
Might soon be drawn for to forsake the truth.
Let us but note, and 'twill be strange to see.
What contradictions in our actions be.
Sometime the same we do with
Trophies
raise,
That we did but a while before dispraise:
Nor can we always in one passion keep,
But often for one thing
rejoice
and
weep.
Isit not a sign of human fickleness,
And a true note of our unsettledness,
When not alone someone, or two, or few,
But a great number, a selected Crew,
Pickt out of all estates, and they the wisest,
The vnderstandingst, yea and the precisest
Of a whole Empire, and when these (I say)
Have argu'd
pro & con,
from day today,
From week to week to have (perhaps) enacted,
One
Law
or
Statute,
yet when all's compacted,
And everything seems clearly done and ended
Then to have something init to be amended?
Yea and when this is done, and the
Records,
Fram'd in their plain'st and most effectual words,
T' express their meaning, and they think it plain▪
Yet at next reading 'tis dislikit again.
This year they make a Law, repeal 't the next,
Then re-inact
•
t, and then change the text;
Either by taking from, or adding to,
And so they have an endless work to do.
But some may tell me that thus stands the case,
They must have both respect to
time
and
place
And that no
Law
deuis'd by human wit,
Can be for every place and season fit:
All which I yield for truth indeed; but then,
We must confessit a misery in men,
That he
(Chameleon-like)
must have a mind,
With every object unto change inclined.
I might speak of the fickleness I see,
In men's
External fortunes
for to be:
For this day he hath friends, tomorrow none,
Now he hath wealth, and in an hour 'tis gone,
Some in their youth there be have all things store,
And yet do often live til they are poor.
Again, there's some in youth at beggar States;
Become in age for to be Potentates.
Some are of Kings made slaves, and Kings again,
Whilst other with the contrary complain,
For poor
Eumenes
of a Potters son,
By fickle
fortunes
help a Kingdom won;
But for him such a diet did provide,
That shortly after he of hunger died.
I many such examples might infer,
But that would wast more time and make me err
From my intent, who purpose to relate,
The fickleness of man, not his estate.
Moreover, he's a Creature knows not how,
To do an act which he shall long allow,
Or think of well himself; he cannot tell,
What he would have, nor what he would not, well.
For peradventure he is now content,
To do what he will in an hour repent,
He does, and undoes what he did before,
Is discontented, and with no man more
Then with himself; In word he's fickle to,
For he will promise what he'le never do.
If that he tells me he will be in
Paul's,
I will go look for him in the
Temple-hals,
For soonest to that place resort doth he,
Whereas he says or swears he will not be.
Oh! had there been in words a constant trust,
I needed not to have done as now I must.
I should have had no cause to have bewailed,
That which I once thought would have neuerfaild
But since 'tis thus, at nothing more I grieve,
Then that
unconstant words
made me believe,
Were promises worth trust, what needed than,
Such written contracts between
Man
and
Man?
And wherefore should they make so much ado,
To have both
hands and seals to witness too?
Unless it be for proofs to make it plain,
Their words are both
inconstant, false, and vain.
To morrow he will earnestly gain-say.
What stoutly is affirmed by him today:
Yea truly he 's so wavering and unjust,
That scarce a word of his deserveth trust.
But as a creature of all good forlorn,
Sweares what's denied, and straight denies what's sworn
That I suppose, in troth and do not mock,
He 's flt for nothing but a
weather-cock.
Then that same thought that's likeliest to remain,
Another thats unlike puts out again.
For
Appetite,
not reason, guides him still,
Which makes him so inconstant in his
Will.
Had he a suit at first but made of
leather,
And clothes enough to keep away the weather
'Twere all his wish; well so let us grant,
And ten to one he something else will want.
But swears that he for more would never care,
Then to be able to have cloth to wear,
Which if he get, then would he very fain,
Reach to have
silks,
for cloth he faith is plain,
And so his wishes seldom would have stay,
Until that he hath wisht for all he may.
But though from this infirmity there's no man,
That I can well except it is so common,
Yet surely I most properly may calit
Or tearmit to be the common people's fault;
Think not I wrong them, for if it may not be,
A fault for to digress, you soon should see
Their nature and condition; for I hate it:
And now I think upon 't I will relate it.
Tax me who list (I care not) here I will break,
My course a while, I may not choose but speak,
Somthing, I say my
Muse
of them must tell,
She cannot bear it any farther well.
And yet expect not all, for I will but show,
Of many hundred thousand faults, a few.
And to be brief:
The Vulg
•
r are a rude,
A strange inconstant hare-braind multitude:
Borne too and fro with every idle passion,
Or by opinion led beside all fashion,
They still desire news, and to a song,
Or a bald
Tale
thei'l listen all day long.
Soone weary of a good thing, and they try,
To all reports how they may add a lie;
Like that of
Scoggins crows:
and with them still,
Custom
hath borne most sway and ever will:
And good or bad, what their forefathers did,
Thei'l put in prastise to, (else God for bid)
They are seditious and much given to range,
In their opinions, and desiring change,
For if their
Country
be turmoyld with war,
They think that peace is more commodious far,
If they be quiet they would very fain,
Begin to set the wars abroach again;
I well remember when an Irish press,
Had made a parish but a man the less,
Lord what a hurly burly there was than!
These wars (say they) hath cost us many a man,
The Country is impouerisht by 't and we,
Rob'd of our
Husbands
and our
Children
be,
With many lamentations: But now peace,
Hath made
••
ellonaes
anger for to cease,
Their ever discontented natures grutch,
And think this happy peace we have too much,
Yea and their wisdoms bear us now in hand,
That it is wars that doth enrich the Land:
But what are these? not men of any merit,
That speak it from a bold and daring spirit,
But lightly some faint-hearted brauing momes,
That rather had be hanged at their own
•
omes,
Then for their
Countries
welfare for to stay,
The brunt of one pitched battle but a day,
Of such as would distract with fear become,
To hear the thundering of a martial drum.
They cannot keep a mean, a naughty crime,
Nor never are contented with the time.
But better like the state they have been in,
Although the present hath the better been,
E'ne as the Jews, that loathing
Manna,
fain
Would be in
Egypt
at their flesh again,
Though they were there in bondage; so do these,
Wish for the world as in
Queen Mary's
days;
With all the blindness and the trumpery,
That was expeld the land with Popery;
Why? things were cheap, and twas a goodly m
•
ny.
Wen we had four and twenty agges a penny.
But sure they ate them stale for want of wit,
And that hath made them
adle-headed
yet.
Then this (moreover) I have in them seen,
They always to the good have envious been,
Mild men they reckon fools and do uphold,
Him to be valiant that is over-bold:
When he with wisemen is and ever was.
Counted no better then a desperate Ass.
He that doth trust unto their love, shall find
It is more unconstant then the wavering wind,
Which since my time a
man
that many knew,
Relying on it: at his death found true.
Then they have oft vnthank fully withstood,
Those that have labor▪ for the common good.
And being basely minded evermore,
Seek less the
public
then the
private
store.
Moreover such a
Prince
as yet was never,
Of whom the
People
could speak well of ever,
Nor can a man a
government
invent them,
How good soever that shall long content them.
Their
honesty
as I do plainly find
Is not the disposition of their mind:
But they are forced unto the same through fear,
As in those
villains
it may well appear.
Who having found so vile ungodly cause,
If there be any means to wrest the Laws,
By
tricks
or
shifts
to make the matter go
As they would have it, all is well enow:
Although the wrong and
〈◊〉
they proffer,
Be to apparent for a Jew to offer.
They know not
Justice,
and oft causles hate,
Or where their should not are
compassionate,
As at an
execution
I hau
•
seen,
Where
Malefactors
have rewarded been,
According to desert; before they know,
If he accused, gui
•
ty be or no.
They on report, this hasty censure give;
He is a villain and unfit to live:
But when he is once arraigned and found
Guilty by
Law;
and heavily led bound
Unto the
Scaffold,
then they do relent,
And pi
•
ty his deserved punishment.
Those that will now brave gallant men be deemed▪
And with the
Common people
be esteemed,
Let them turn
hack-sters
as they walk the street,
Quarrell, and fight with everyone they meet;
Learn a
welsh Song
to scoff the
British blood
Or break a
jest
on
Scotsmen,
that's as good,
Or if they would that
fools
should much admire them,
They should be
Iugglers
if I might desire them:
But if they want such feats for to be glorious
Make
Ballets
and they shall become
not orious,
Yet this is nothing if they look for fame,
And mean to have an everlasting name.
Amongst the
Vulgar
let them seek for gain
With
Ward
the
Pirat
on the boisterous
Maine,
Or else well mounted keep themselves on land,
And bid our wealthy travelers to stand,
Emptying their full crammed bags; for that's a trick
Which sometimes wan renoune to cutting
Dicke.
But some may tell me, though that such,
It doth not go against their conscience much:
And though there's boldness shown in such a case,
Yet to be Tost at Tyburns a disgrace,
No, 'tis their credit, for the people then,
Will say,
'tis pity they we e
•
proper men.
With many such like humors base and naught,
I do perceive the common people fraught,
Then by th'opinion of some it seems,
How much the
Vulgar
sort of men esteems
O
〈◊〉
or
learning:
Certain
neighbouring swaines,
(That think none wise-men but whose wisdom games;
Where
knowledge
be it moral or divine
Is valued as an
Orient-pearl
with swine
Meeting me in an evening in my walk,
Being gone past me, thus began their talk.
First an
old Chuff,
whose roof, I dare be bold,
Hath bacon hang's init above five years old.
Said: That's his son that
•
s owner of the grounds
That on this pleasant beechs mountains bounds,
D'ye mark me ne ghbors? This sa
•
e young man's vather
Had a been my zunne chud a hangd him rather
As soon as he perze
•
u'd the little voole,
Could creep about the house, putten to school,
Whither he we t
•
not now and then a
•
purt,
Asit had been good to keep him from the dirt;
Nor yet at leisure tim s, (thats my zunnes stint)
Vor then
〈◊〉
deed there had been reason in'te
B
•
t vor continuance and beyond all zesse
A held him tooit six days a week no less
That by
S. Anne
ie was a great presumption
It brought him no
•
his end with a
Consvmption:
And then besides he was not so content,
To putten there where as our childers went:
To learn the
Horne book,
and the
Abcee
through,
No that he thought not learning half enough,
But he must seek the
Country
all about,
Where he might find a better
Teacher
out.
And then he buys him
(now a pips befall it)
A vlapp
•
ng book, I know not what they call it,
It is latin
•
ll, thus it begins;
In speech,
And hat's in English,
boy, beware your breech,
One day my
Dicke
a leaf ont with him brought,
Which he out of his fellows book had ra
•
g
•
t,
And to h
•
s
Mother
and
myself
did read it,
But we indeed did so extremely dread it,
We gave him charge no more thereon to look,
Vor veare it had been of a
conjuring book,
If that you think
I
jest go as ke my wife,
If ere she heard such
•
ibberish in her life,
But when he
yonn
had cond the same by heart,
And of a meny moethe better part;
He went to
Oxford,
where he did remain,
Some certain years, whence he's returned again,
Now who can tell (it in my stomach sticks)
And I do veare he has some
Oxford
tricks.
But if it be zo: would he had ne
•
e come hither,
Vor we shall still be sure of blustering weather.
To what end comes his pain and vathers cost?
Th' one's charges, and the tothers labor lost;
I warrant he so long a learning went,
That he almost a brothers portion spent:
And now it naught avails him: by this holly,
I think all learning in the world a folly,
And them I take to be the veriest vooles,
That all their life time do frequent the schools,
Go ask him now and see if all his wits,
Can tell you when a
barley season hits.
When
Meddowes
must be left to spring, when mown,
When
Wheat,
or
tares,
or
rye,
or
pease
be sown.
He knows it not, nor when tis meet to
fold,
How to manure the ground that's
wet
or
cold:
What Lands are fit for
Pasture,
what for
corn,
Or how to hearten what is over-worn.
Nay; he scarce knows a
Gelding
from a
Mare,
A
Barrow
from a
Sow,
nor take she care
Of such like things as these; be knows not whether,
There be a difference twixt the
Ewe
and
Weather,
Can he resolve you? (No nor many more)
If
Cowes
do want their upper teeth before;
Nay I durst pawn a groat he cannot tell,
How many legs a
Sheep
hath very well,
Isit not a wise man think ye? By the
Mass,
Cham glad at heart my zunnes not zuch an
Ass,
Why he can tell already all this gear,
As well almost as any of us hear.
And neighbors: yet I will tell you more; my
Dicke,
Hath very pretty skill in
Arsemetricke.
Can cast accouts, writes his name, &
Dunces
daughter,
Taught him to spell the hardest words it'h
zauter.
And yet the Boy I will warrant ye knows how,
As well as you or I, to hold the
Plow,
And this
I
noted in the vrchin ever,
Bid him to take a Book he had as lether,
All day have drawn a
Harrow;
truth is so,
I
likt it well although
I
made no show
Vor to my comfort I did plainly see,
That he heoreaster would not bookish be,
Then when that having naught at home to do,
I sometime forct him to the school to go,
You would have greeud in heart to hear him whine,
And then how glad he was to keep the swine,
I
yet remember; and what tricks the Mome,
Would have invented for to stay at home
You would have wondered; But 'tis such another,
A has a wit in all the world likes
Mother;
Yet once a month, although it greeues us than,
H'ele look you in a books do what we can;
That
Mother,
Sister, brother
all we four,
Can scarce persuade him fromit in half an hour,
But oft I think he does it more of spite,
To anger us then any true delight.
Vor why? his
Mother
thinks as others do,
And I am half of that opinion too.
Although a little learning be not bad,
Those that are bookish are the so
•
nest mad.
And therefore since much wit makes vooles of many,
Chil take an order mine shall never have any.
Byr Lady
your the wiser (quoth the rest)
The course you take in our conceit's the best,
Your Lonne may live in any place ith land,
By his industrious and laborious hand,
Whilst he (but that his parents are his stay)
Hath not the mean, to keep him self a day,
His study to our sight no pleasure gives,
Nor me
••
es, nor profit, and thereby he lives
So little thing the better, none needt doubt it,
He might have been a happier man without it.
For though he now
〈◊〉
speak a little better,
It is not words you know will free the debtor.
Thus so ne whose speeches show well what they be,
For want of matter fell to talk of me.
Of whom, though something they have said be true
Yet since instead of giving
Act
her due,
They have disgrast it; Notwithstanding I,
Have not the knowledge that these
Dol
•
s
envy,
Or can so much without incurring blame,
As take unto myself a
Scholars
name.
Yet now my reputation for to save,
Since I must make account of that I have,
I will let you know though they so lightly deem it,
What gain's in
knowledge,
and how I esteem it,
As often as I call to mind the bliss,
That in my little
Knowledge
heaped is.
The many comforts, of all which the least,
More joys my heart then can be well expressed.
How happy then think I are they whose souls
More wisdom by a thousand parts in rowles;
Whose understanding-hearts are so divine
They can perceive a
m
•
ll
•
ou
more then mine,
Such have content indeed: And who that's
man
And should know reason is so senseless than
To spurn at
Knowledge
•
, Art,
or
Learning;
when
That only shows they are the race of
men?
And what may I then of those
Peasants
deem,
The which of wisdom make so small esteem?
But that indeed such
blockish senseless logs,
Sprang from those
clownes Latona
turned to
frogs;
Alas, suppose they nothing can be got
By precious stones, cause
swine
esteem them not?
Ot do they think, because they cannot use it,
That those which may have
Knowledge
will refuse it?
Well, if their shallow
coxcombs
can contain
A reason when Its told them, I will explain,
How that same little
Knowledge
I have got,
Much pleasures me, though they perceive it not:
For first thereby (though none can here attain
For to renew their first estate again)
Apart reuiues (although it be but small)
Of that I lost by my
first fathers
fall.
And makes me
man,
which was before (at least)
As haplesse, if not more, then is the
beast
That reason wants; for his condition still,
Remains according to his
Makers
will.
They never dream of that, and then by this,
I find what
godly,
and what
evil
is;
That knowing both, I may the best ensue,
Aud as I ought the worser part eschew,
Then I have learned to count that dross but vain,
For which such
Bores
consume themselves with Paine:
I can endure discontentments, crosses,
Be
Iouia
•
l
in want, and smile at losses:
Keep under
Passions,
stop those insurrections,
Rais'd in my
Microcosmus
by affections.
Be nothing grieved for
adversity,
Nor nere the prouder for
prosperity.
How to respect my friend I partly know,
And in like manner how to use my
foe.
I can see others lay their
souls
to pawn,
Look upon
Great-men,
and yet scorn to fawn.
Am still content, & dare whilst God gives grace,
E'ne look my grimmest
fortunes
in the face.
I fear men's
censures
as the char-coal sparks,
Or as I do a toothless
dog
that barks;
Th'one frights children, 'other threats to burn,
But sparks will die, and brawling curs return.
Yea I have learned that still my care shall be,
A
rush
for him, that cares a
straw
for me.
Now what would men have more? are these no pleasures?
Or do they not deserve the name of treasures?
Sure yes; and he that hath good
learning
store,
Shall find these init besides a thousand more.
O
•
but our
Chuffs
think these delights but course,
If we compare them to their
Hobby-horse:
And they believe not any pleasure can,
Make them so merry as
Maid-marian.
Not is the
Lawyer
prouder of his fee▪
Then these will of a
Cuckooe Lordship
be.
Though their sweet
Ladies
make them father that,
Some other at their
Whitson ales
begat;
But he whose carriage is of so good note,
To be thought worthy of their
Lord's fools coat.
That's a great credit, for because that he,
Is ever thought the wisest man to be.
But as there's virtue where the
Diuil's
precisest,
So there's much knowledge where a
fool's
the wisest,
But what mean I? let earth content these moles,
And their high'st pleasure be their
summer-poles,
About the which I leave them for to dance,
And much good doit them with their
ignorance.
So this I hope will serve for to declare,
How rude these
vulgar
sort of people are.
But hereupon there's some may question make,
Whether I only for the
Vulgar
take,
Such men as these; To whom I answer, no,
For let them hereby understand and know,
I do not mean these meaner sort alone,
Tradesmen
or
Laborers;
but everyone,
Be he
Esquire, Knight, Baron, Earl
or more,
Yet if he have not learned of
Virtues
lore,
But follows
Vulgar
Passions; then e'ne he,
Amongst the
Vulgar
shall for one man be.
And the poor Groome, that he thinks should adore him,
Shall for his
Virtue
be preferred before him.
For though the world doth such men much despise,
They seem most noble in a wise-man's eyes.
And notwithstanding some do noblest deem,
Such as are sprung of great and high esteem,
And those to whom the Country doth afford
The title of a
Marquis
or a
Lord,
Though 'twere achieved by their fathers merits,
And themselves men but of dunghill spirits;
Cowards
or
fools;
(And such as ever be
Prating or boasting of their
Pedigree
)
When they are nothing but a blot or shame,
Unto the noble house from whence they came.
Yet these (I say) unless that they have wit,
To guide the
Common-wealth,
as it is fit
They should; And as their good forefathers did,
How ere their faults may seem by Greatness hid,
They shall appear; And the poor
Yeomans
son,
Whose proper virtue hath true honor won,
Be placit above him: But
Nobility
That comes by birth hath most antiquity
Some think; and tother (if at all
They yield as noble) they an upstart call,
But I say rather no, his
Noblenesse
That's raised by
Virtue
hath most
worthiness.
And is most ancient, for it is the same,
By which all Great men first obtained their
Fame;
So then I hope 'twill not offend the
Court,
That I count some there with the
Vulgar sort,
And outset others; yet some think me bold,
Because there's few that these opinions hold.
But shall I care what others think or say?
There is a path besides the beaten way;
Yea and a safer, for here's
Christ's Instruction,
The broadest way leads soonest to
Destruction.
And truly no opinions deceive,
Sooner then those the
Vulgar
sort receive,
And therefore he that would indeed be wise,
Must learn their rude conditions to despise,
And shun their presence; for we have been taught,
Diseases in a press are quickly caught.
Now
Satyr
leave them till another time,
And spare to scourge the
Vulgar
with thy rime,
If any think thou hast digrest too long,
They may pass over this, and do no wrong.
But in my former matter to proceed,
Who, being man's Race is so much freed
From fickleness, that he is sure to find
Himself tomorrow, in that very mind
He's in today? though he not only know
No reason wherefore he should not be so,
But also though he plainly do perceive
Much cause he should not that opinion leave:
May no man do it? who then justly can
Be forced to rely, or trust in
Man
Whose thoughts are changing, and so oft amiss,
That by himself,
himself
deceived is?
Who is so sottish as to build Salvation
On such a feeble tottering foundation
As
Man?
who isit that having a respect,
To his souls safety, will so much neglect
That precious assurance, as to lay
His confidence on that false piece of clay,
Which being fickle, merits far less
trust,
Then letters written in the
sand,
or
dust?
Do they not see those they have soundest deemed,
And for their constants
writers
still esteemed,
All wavering in assertions? yea but look,
And you shall find in one, and the same book
Such contradiction in
Opinion,
As shows their thoughts are scarce at
Union.
Where find you him that dares be absolute,
Or always in his sayings resolute?
Ther's none; I by my
own
experience speak,
I have a feeling that we men are
weak,
Whereon much musing, makes me inly mourn,
And grieve at heart, that I a man was borne.
(Yet hereupon I do desire that no man,
Would gather that I long to be a woman,)
Alas! how often had I good Intendments
And with my whole heart vowed and sworn amendments
Yea purposed that, wherein I once thought, never
Vnconstancy
should let me to persevere?
And yet for all my purpose and my vow,
I am oft altered ere myself knows how:
But therefore since it is not I alone,
Or any certain number that is known,
To be vn-stable; but e'ne all that be;
Since none (I say) is from this frailty free,
Let
us
confess it all, and all implore
Our
nere repenting God; that evermore
Remains the same,
we may be (as we ought)
More certain both in
Word,
and
Deed,
&
Thought
That he will keep us from
Inconstancy,
Yea from all damned, lewd
Apostasy;
But howsoever our affections change,
And we in slight opinions hap to range:
Yet, pray his
Truth
in us be so ingraued,
Continuing to the end we may be saved.
OF WEAKNES.
SATYR. 3.
BVt oh look here; for I have surely found
The
Maine
chief
Root,
the very spring and Ground.
Of our
Inconstancy.
It is not
Chance
That so dis-ables our perseverance:
But a base
Weakness,
which to term aright,
Is merely a private
•
on of that might,
Or a detraction from that little power
Which should be in those limbs and minds of our:
We boast of strength; but tell me, can our days
Affoord a
Milo,
or a
Hercules?
Can all the world, (and that is large enough)
A match for
Hector
or
Achilles
show:
Have we a Champion strong enough to wield
This Buckler? or Sir
Aiax
seven-fold-Shield?
I think we have not: (but I durst so grant,
There be some living shall with
Aiax
vaunt.)
Nay, now in these days it is doubted much,
Whether that any former age had such
As these fore-named; but indeed our faith
Binds us to credit, that as
Scripture
saith
There was a
Samson,
who could fright whole hosts,
And rent down
Azaths
barred gates and posts,
Whose mighty Arms vnarm'd could bring to pass,
E'ne with the rotten
iaw bone
of an Ass,
A thousands ruin▪ and yet 'twill be long,
Er'e he shall thereby prove that
Ma
•
is strong.
For first, the strength he seemed to have, was known,
To be the
Spirit of God,
and not his own.
And then his proper weakness did appear,
When after his brave actiheihad well-near,
Been dead for thirst; whereas if he in spite
Of
Nature
had been able by his might,
Out of this little
Stony-rock
to wring,
To quench his present thirst, some flowing Spring,
As did
a Stronger one:
or if his power
Could have compelled the melting
clouds
to shower
For present need, such plenteous drops of rain,
He might have had no cause for to complain,
Or crave more aid. Sure then we might at length,
Be brought for to believe that
Men
had strength;
But never till then. He's mighty that can make
The
Heaueus, Earth,
&
Hell
with's breath to shake.
That in his sphere the
Suns
swift course can stop,
And
Atlas
with his burden under-prop.
He that with ease his
massy globe
can roll,
And wrap up
Heaven
like a parchment scrowle;
He that fought no
disease
or
pain
will droop,
Nor unto any plague
infernal
stoop.
He that can
Meat,
and
Drink,
and
sleep
refrain,
Or hath the power to
die, and rise again
•
,
He's
strong indeed;
but he that can but tear,
Or rent in two a
Lyon,
or a
Bear,
Or do some such like act, and then go lie
Himself ore-come by some
infirmitte,
How ere with vants he seems his deeds to grace,
He is both
miserable, weak,
and
base,
What
Creature
is there borne so weak as
Man,
And so vn-able? tell me, he that can.
Or if that they could numbered be by any,
Count his disease and what hath so many?
Or else what creature is there if he be
In bone and flesh of the same quantity,
So frail as
Man?
or that can worse sustain.
Hunger
or
thirst
or
cold
or
heat
or
pain?
Sure none; and yet in Histories we find,
Til
Luxury
hath weakened thus mankind,
They wear much stronger; could endure the
heat,
Trauel a long time without
Drink
or
meat,
And their best
dainty
was no costlier thing
Then a
wild-root
or water from the
Spring.
With which small Commons
Nature
was content:
Yea in our Climate people naked went;
And yet no question felt as little cold,
As we
wrapped up in half a dozen fold
They had no wast-coats, night-caps for their heads,
Nor downy pillows nor soft feather-beds
They
scorned
as much to have such things about thē
As we in this
Age sc
•
rne
to be without them.
Their heads some stone bare up their brawny sides,
With ease the hardness of the earth abides.
Gluttonous fare
that so the palate pleases,
Nere filled their bodies full of foul diseases
Nor any pleasing liquors with excess,
Made them grow weak through
beastly drunkenness.
No lust-provoking meats made them unchaste.
Nor unto
carnal copula
•
ton
haste,
For I am in the mind they never required it,
Till
Nature
come to herfull strength, desired it,
And that it is alone which made them be
More stout, more strong, and brauer men then we.
It was a noble care in them indeed; but how
Are we become such
Dwarfes
and
Pigmies
now?
How are our limbs so weak and feeble grown?
I think I need not tell it, 'tis well known,
Nice tender breeding,
which we well might spare,
Much drunkenness
and our
luxurious fare:
Which ads not strength, as some do vainly say
But rather takes both strength, and health away.
Yet chiefly this same
imbecility,
Comes by too soon and frequent
venery.
A beardless
Boy
now cannot keep his bed,
Unless that he be of his
Night-geere
sped,
And many
Giglets
I have married seen,
Ere they (forsooth) could reach
eleuenteene.
Nay 'tis no wonder we are grown so weak,
For now there matching brats ere they can speak;
And though we yet say that the men are stronger,
Yet he (I think) that lives but so much longer,
The reuolution of an age to see,
Will say that men the weaker vessels be.
But now our strength of body, which indeed,
Deserues no more respect then doth a reed,
Is not the strength of which I meant to speak,
For we are yet another way too weak.
Our minds have lost their magnanimity,
And are so feebled through infirmity;
That either to be resolute we care not,
Or else because of some base
fear
we dare not,
Where can we find almost a man so hardy,
Who through his weakness is not sometime tardy,
To speak the truth? or to declare his mind?
Though he do many just occasions find.
He'le wink at his friends offense, and pass it blindly,
Least (peradventure) he should takit unkindly.
And if it be a Great man that offends,
Shew me but him that boldly reprehends,
And I will admire him; Nay we'l rather now
Bend our endeavor and our study how
To
sooth
and
fawn;
or to their lewdness tell,
That all they do (beit nere so bad) is well.
Their very looks and presence we so fear,
As if that they some monstrous
Cyclops
were,
Which makes them worse. But howsoe're they trust
Unto their
might,
I will tell them (for I must)
Although they threaten, and can slanders make
Of just reproofs, my heart shall never quake
T'inform their
Honors,
thus'tis censured by men,
If they be
Great-ones, Tanto maius crimen;
One knows the
Truth,
but dares not to defend it,
Because he hears another discommend it.
Yea diverse follow
Virtues
ways but coldly,
Because they dare not do a Good thing boldly
And do we not perceive that many a man
Fearing for to be
•
earm'd a
P
•
ritan,
Simply neglects the means of his salvation,
Though it be needful, and worth commendation?
Some cannot well endure this or that:
Others distempred with I know not what
Shew an exceeding frailty: Few can brook
With any patience, that men should look
Into their Actions; and though they should love them,
They rather hate them for it that do reprove them.
Is there a man so strong, that he forbears
Choller
or
Fury,
when by chance he hears,
Himself reuil'd, reproached and disgraced?
If there be such a one, he shall be placed
Amongst the
Worthie,
with the foremost three:
For in my judgment, none more wothy be
To have renown for strength, then those that can,
On their rebellious
Passons
play the man.
This
Weakness
I do also find in men,
They know not their own happiness till then
When they have lost it: And they do esteem
Men for their
wealth,
and them most blessed deem
That are most rich; supposing no man more
Accursed or unhappy, then the poor.
Some basely do comdemne each strange report
To be untrue, because it doth not sort
With their weak reasons. Some again will be,
Astonished at every novelty.
But too much wondering doth discover plain
Where ignorance and frailty both remain.
Is it not weakness when some petty losses,
Some hindrance in preferment, or such crosses
Shall make men grieve? is it no weakness when,
Adversity
shall so disquiet men
That they should not with patience sustain,
Or vndetgoe a little cross and pain?
Yes questionless it is; or were they strong,
They would so arm themselves gainst grief and wrong
That no disastrous, or il hap should fright them
Though
Fortune
did the worst she can to spite them.
Nor would they those, as the unworthiest deem,
To whom dame
Fortune
doth most froward seem;
But rather such as all their life time be,
In quiet state and from disturbance free.
For
•
he oft gives what their base longing craves,
Because she scorns to vex dejected flaues,
I have known
brave men,
brave at least in show,
(And in this age now that is brave enow)
That in appearance for bold champions past
And yet have basely yielded at the last.
Besides there's many who thought scorn to droop,
By
Fortunes
power have been made to stoop,
And with discredit shamefully left undone,
What they with honor at the first begun;
And their
weak hearts
(which frailty I much hate)
Deiected, have grown base with their estate.
Whereas (me thinks) the mind should never be,
Subject to Fortunes frowns not tyranny.
But here through weakness, some, offense may take
That I of fortune should recital make:
For they by Fortune say theres nothing done,
But all things are both ended and begun,
By God's appointment. I confess indeed,
That he knows all, and all hath fore-decreed:
In the respect of whom I cannot say,
Ought comes by chance; respecting us I may.
So they are answered; But how can men be,
So over-borne with this infirmity?
As those who are in every matter led,
By
Parasites
and
Apes: where is their
head?
I mean their will, their reason, and their sense,
What is become of their intelligence?
How ist that they have such a partial care,
They can judge nothing true, but what they hear
Come from the tongue of some sly sycophant.
But for because they strength of judgment want,
Those that themselves to flatterers inure,
I have perceived basely to endure
For to be plainly soothed, mockit and flouted,
Made coxcombs to their faces, yet not doubted
That they were highly reuerencit, respected,
And by those fawning
Parasites affected
And why forsooth? they often hear them prate,
In commendations of their happy state;
Yes, and they tell them that they virtuous be,
Wise, Courteous, strong, and beautiful to see,
When if the eye of reason were not locked
They plainly might perceive that they were mocked.
For what ist else, when they are praised for many
Goodly conditions, that had never any?
This frailty also merits to be blamed
When fearful of reproach we are ashamed,
Our
ignorance
in those things to explain,
Wherein, twere fit more knowledge to attain
'It is weakness also when a
bargains
bought,
For to dispraise the pennyworth as naught,
And tell what might have been, or fondly prate,
Of Counsel, when he sees it is too late,
Nor is it any less to seek to stay,
Him that we know doth hasten on his way,
O
•
be importunate, for that which will▪
Be nothing for our good, yet others ill:
Also, to be afraid for to gainsay,
What men do know vnture, or to delay
The right of any matter to declare,
Because they fear they vnbeleeued are:
For notwithstanding Truth doth oft bring blame,
It may be freely spoken without
shame
Divers more ways of which I needs must speak,
Theres many men do show themselves but
weak:
In some but lately I observed this,
And must needs say their nature evil is;
If friends to them have any kindness shown,
Or
entertainments
willingly bestowne,
That they confess they are indebted for it,
Yet such is their condition (I abhor it)
If that those friends do hap to take the pain,
To come sometime and visit them again,
In mere good will, because these weak ones see
They cannot then so well provided be
To bid them welcome as their loves require,
(Though more then love their loves did never desire)
A foolish
Shame
so blinds them that they shall
(For giving them to much) have naught at all;
Yea for because they want excessive fare,
Or some such things for which their friends near care,
(Though by their will it other wise had been)
They neither will be known at home nor seen.
Which doth not only show impiety,
But hindereth love, and bars society,
Yet now the greatest weakness that I find,
To be in man, is ignorance of mind,
It makes a poor man he's scarce good for ought,
If rich men have it, they are worse then naught.
For having riches store, and wanting might,
Or strength of mind to use the same aright,
It is arrogancies and ambitious fuel,
It makes them
Couetuous, Inconstant, Cruel;
Intemperate, Vniust
and
wondrous heady,
Yea in their actionsrude, and so unsteady
They cannot follow any sound direction,
But are still carried with a wild affection,
This is their nature: (it is quickly noted)
If they to honor be by hap promoted
Then they grow insolent, beyond all reason,
Apt for Ambition, Quarrels, Murthers, Treason:
Or any villainy, that follows those,
Who do the sum of happiness repose
In worldly glory: But if
Fortune
frown,
And from her fickle wheel once cast them down,
Then their dejected hearts again grow base,
They are impatient of their present case:
Raue or run mad, and can do naught poor elues,
Unless it be go hang or drown them selves.
Moreover the same weakness that proceeds,
From ignorance, this mischife also breeds;
It makes men will conceited of their will,
Which they will follow be it nere so ill.
And they think all things needs must fall out bad,
Wherein their wise advise may not be had.
But here's the hell: to them all Counsel's vain,
Cause they all others wisdom do disdain,
And wholly on their own devises rest,
As men persuaded that their own are best:
But as all such are weak, e'ne so I say
Is everyone that rashly doth repay
Vengeance in anger; Or that's male content
Oft; or oft moved and impatient:
Or those that judge of Counsels by th'event,
Or that persuade themselves, if their intent
Be good and honest, that it doth not skill
If that the matter of it self be ill;
Which were it true then
David
might complain,
That
Uzzah
for his good intent was slain.
Others again think Superstitious Rites,
To be the service in which God delghts.
But since I am forst my mind of them to speak,
I must needs say their judgments are but weak:
The like I must of them who disesteem,
All foreign customs, and do only deem
Their own, praise-worthy; As also such as do
Think those things best they cannot reach unto;
Yet in the vulgar this weak humor's bred,
They'l sooner be with idle customs led,
Or fond opinions such as they have store,
Then learn of reason or of virtues lore,
We think that we are strong, but what alas!
Is there that our great might can bring to pass,
Since though we thereto bend e'ne all our will,
We neither can be
good
not wholly ill.
God
gives us needful blessings for to use them,
Which wanting power to do we oft abuse them,
Some hold them wise and virtuous that profess,
An
heremitall
solitariness:
But it proceeds from
imbecility,
And for because through
Non-ability,
Those things they cannot well in dure to do,
Which they indeed should be inur'd unto:
Besides,
they
wrong their
Country,
and their
friends.
For
man
(saith
Tullye's,
) borne to other ends
Then for to please himself; a part to have,
The
common-weal
doth look, and parents crave
A part; so doth his
friend;
then deals he well
That closely mewd up in a careless
cell
Keepes all himself; and for a little ease,
Can in his
Conscience
find to rob all these?
I say he's weak, and so again I must,
But add withal, he's slothful and unjust:
Then as he's vain that precious time doth spend,
In fond and idle pleasure to no end:
So are those
weak,
that with contempt disdain
All
pleasure
and
delights
on earth as vain;
And though they would be
zealous
thought, & wise
I shall but count them foolishly precise;
For
Man
hath cares; and pleasures mixed with-all
Are
needful;
yea both
just
and
natural.
We are no
Angels
that our recreation,
Should consist only in mere
Contemplation:
But we have bodies to, of whose due pleasure,
The
souls
must find sometimes to be at leisure
For to participate; but in this kind,
Though some find fault, we are not much behind
Then tis through human weakness, when that we
Of a good-turn will soon forgetful be,
And readier to revenge a small offense,
Then for that good to make a recompen
•
And so 'tis also when that we eschew,
Or shun them unto whom from us is due
Both love and money; this because their own
Th'other cause friendship at our need was shown:
But 'tis well seen there's many so abhor,
To be in presence with their
Creditor,
That (thankless elues) though he be still their friend.
They rather would desire to see his end:
He's weak, to that's not able to withstand,
Any unlawful or unjust demand,
As well as he that knows not to deny,
Seruing-men's
kindness, or
pot-courtesy.
Some simple fellows, cause that
silken-fools,
(That had their bringing-up in
Bacchus schools.
)
In show of love, but daine to drink unto them,
Think presently they such a favor do them,
That though they feel their stomach well nigh sick
Yet if to pledge these kind ones they should stick:
Or for a draught or two, or three refuse them
They think in conscience they should much abuse them
Nay there be some, and wisemen you would think
That are not able to refuse their drink,
Through this their weakness; though that they be sure
'It is more then their weak stomachs can endure,
And why? oh 'tis the health of some great
Peer
His
Masters,
or his
Friend
he counteth dear;
What then? if that the party virtuous be,
He'le not esteem of such a foolery;
If not, who erit be, this is my mind still,
A straw for's love, his friendship, or good will,
Some muse to see those that have knowledge gaind
And to
Degrees
of
Art
in
Schools
attained,
Should have opinion stuffed with heresy,
And in their action such
Simplicitie
As many have, At first, without a pause,
As mere a Boy as I may tell the cause:
Ist not, the reason their acquired parts,
And knowledge they have reached unto by
Arts
Is grown a
M
•
tch
to great, and far unfit,
For to be joined with their
Naturallwit?
'It is so; and they instead of rightful using
Draw from their leraning errors, by abusing.
Plain Reason should, and every man that's wise
Knowes though that
Learning
be a dainty prize,
Yet if that
Fate
with such a weakling place it,
Who hath no helps of
Nature
for to grace it:
Or one, whose proper
Knowledge,
is so small,
He is beholding to his
Book
for all;
It only breeds, (unless it be some
Treasons
)
Cripled
Opinions,
and prodigious
Reasons.
Which being favored brings in the
Conclusion,
Public
Dissensions,
or their own
Confusion.
For I may liken Learning to a
Shield,
With a strong
Armor, Lying
in a field:
Ready for any man that hath the Wit
To take it up and arm himself with it,
Now if he be a man of strength and might,
That happens on that furniture to light
He may do wonders; As offend his foe,
And keep himself and his, from overthrow.
But if a weak and feeble man should take
These instruments of
Mars;
what would they make,
For his advantage? Surely I should gather
They would go near to overthrow him rather:
For they would load him so, a man more strong
Although he be vnarm'd, may do him wrong.
So he, that is depriu'd of
Natures
gifts,
With all his
Learning,
maketh harder shifts,
Through his own
weakness,
& incurs more shames;
Then many that want
Art
to write their
Names.
We have some Fellowes that would scorn to be
Term'd
Weak
I know, especially by
Me,
Because they see that my ungentle
Fate,
Allow'd me not to be a
Graduate.
Yet whatsoever they will say unto it,
For all their scorning I am like to do it.
And to be brief they are no
simple fools,
But such as have yauld
Ergo
in the
schools,
Who being by some men of
worship
thought,
Fit men by whom their children may be taught,
And learned enough for that they are allowd
The name of Teachers, whereof growing proud,
Because perhaps they hear that now and then,
They are admired at by the
serving-men;
Or else by reason something they have said,
Hath been applauded by the
Chamber-maid;
They thereupon suppose that no man may.
Hold anything for truth but what they say:
And in discourse their tongues so much will walk,
You may not here a man of reason talk;
They are half
Preachers,
if your question be,
Of matters that concern
divinity;
If it be law; I will warrant they'll out-face,
A dozen
P
•
oydens
to maintain their case:
But if it be of
Physic
you contend,
Old
Galen
and
Hypocrates
may send
For their opinion; nay, they dare profess,
Knowledge in all things, though theres none know less:
Now I should wonder they preuaild so much,
Did not the
Common-people
favor such,
But they are known although their verdit passes,
Proud
Dogmatists,
and self-conceited
Asses;
Whom I may term (though I cannot out-scold them
Weak simple fools, and those that do uphold them:
Moreover some, (but foolishly precise,
And in my judgment, far more weak then wise,)
Misiudge of
Poetry,
as if the same,
Did worthily dese
•
ue reproach and blame;
If any book in
verse
they hap to spy,
Oh, out vponit, away, pr
•
fane they cry,
Burnit, read it not, for sure it doth contain
Nothing but fables of a lying brain;
Al-as
•
take heed, indeed it oft pollutes
The outside of thy false-vain glorious
suits?
And to the blinded
people
makes it plain,
The
Coulour,
thou so
counterset'st
will stain.
Because we see that men are drunk with
wine,
Shall we contemn the liquor of the
Vine?
And since there's some that do this
Art
misuse,
Wilt therefore thou the
Art
it self abuse?
'Twere mere injustice: For
Divinity
Hath with no Science more affinity
Then this; and howsoe're this scruple rose,
Rime
hath expressed as sacred things as prose;
When both in this age and in former time,
Prose
hath been ten-times more profane, then
rime;
But they say still that
Poetry
is lies,
And fables, such as idle heads devise,
Made to please fools: but now we may by this
Perceiue their
weakness
plainly what it is:
Yea, this both
weak
and
ignorant
doth prove them,
In that thei'l censure things that are above them:
For, if that worthy
Poets
did not teach,
A way beyond their dull conceited reach,
I think their shallow wisdoms would espy,
A
Parable
did differ from a
lie.
Yea, if their Judgment be not quite bereft;
Or if that they had any reason left,
The precious Truths within their fables wrapped,
Had not upon so rude a Censure hapt;
But though that kind of teaching some dispraise,
As there's few good things likit of nowadays:
Yet I dare say because the
S
•
riptures
show it,
The best e're taught on earth, taught like a
Poet:
And whereas
Poets
now are counted base,
And in this worth-less
age
in much disgrace;
I of the cause cannot refrain to speak,
And this it is; men's Judgments are grown weak,
They know not true desert; for if they did
Their well deservings could not so be hid,
And sure if there be any doth despise
Such as they are; it is cause he envies
Their worthiness; and is a secret foe
To everyone that truly learns to
know:
For, of all sorts of men here's my belief,
The Poet is most worthy and the chief:
His
Science
is the absolute'st and best,
And deserves
honor
above all the rest;
For 'tis no human knowledge gained by
art,
But rather 'tis inspired into the heart
By
divine
means; and I do muse men dare,
Twixt it and their professoins make compare.
For why should he that's but
Philosopher,
Geometrician,
or
Astrologer,
Physician, Lawyer, Rhetorician.
Historian, Arithmetician,
Or some such like, why should he having found
The means but by one
Ar
•
to be renowned,
Compare with him that claims to have a part
And interest almost in every
Art?
And if that men may add unto their name,
By one of these an everlasting fame,
How much more should it unto them befall,
That have not only one of these, but all
As Poets have? for do but search their works
And you shall find within their writing lurks
All
knowledge;
if they undertake
Of
Diu
•
ne
matters any speech to make,
You will think them
Doctors;
if they need to tell
The course of
stars,
they seem for to excel
Great
Ptolomey;
intend they to persuade,
You will think that they were
Retoricians
made:
What
Law,
what
Phisick,
or what
History
Can these not treat of? Nay what
mistery
Are they not learned in? If of
Trades
they write,
Have they not all terms and words as right
As if he had seru'd an
Apprenticeship?
Can they not name all
tools
for workmanship?
We see tis true; If once they entreat of
wars?
Of cruel bloody fraies? of wounds? of scars?
Why then he speaks so like a
soldier
there,
That he hath been begot in arms thou wilt swear:
Again, he writes so like a
Navigator,
As if they had seru'd
Neptune
in the water,
And thou wouldst think he might of travail make
As great a Volume, as our famous
Drake;
Old
Proteus,
and
Vertumnus
are but
Apes.
Compar'd to these, for shifting of their shapes;
There is no humorous
Passion
so strange,
To which they cannot in a moment change:
Note but their
Drammaticks
and you shall see
They I speak for every
sex,
for each degree,
And in all causes as if they had been,
In everything, or at least all things seen.
If need be they can like a
Lawyer
prate,
Or talk more gravely like a man of
State;
They'l have a
Tradesmans
tongue to praise their ware,
And counterfeit him right (but they will not swear)
The curioust Physicians (if they please)
Shall not quoine words to give their patients ease
So well as they; And if occasion urge,
They'l
Choller,
yea and
Melancholy
purge
Only with charms and words; and yet it shall
Be honest means and merely natural;
Are they disposed to gossipit like a woman,
They'l show their tricks so right, that almost noman,
But would so think them:
Virgins
that are purest,
And
Marrons
that make show to be demurest,
Speak not so like chaste
Cynthia,
as they can,
Nor
Newbery
so like a
Curtezan;
They'l give words either fitting for a
Clowne,
Or such as shall not vnbeseeme a
Crown;
In show they will be
chollerick, Ambitious,
D
•
sperate, Iealous, Mad,
or
Envious,
In
sorrow,
or in any
Passion
be;
But yet remain still, from all passions free.
For they only to this end expressed them,
That men may see them plainer, and detest them.
But some will say that these have on the
stage,
So painted out the
vices
of this age,
That it not only tells that they have been,
Experiencit in every kind of
sin,
But that it also doth corrupt, and show
How men should act those
sins
they did not know,
Oh hateful saying, not pronouncit by
chance,
Bnt spew'd out of malicious
Ignorance;
Weigh it, and you will either think these weak,
Or say that they do out of envy speak:
Can none declare th' effect of
Drunkenness,
Unless they used such-like bestlinesse?
Are all men ignorant what comes by
lust,
Excepting those tht were themselves unjust?
Or think they no man can describe a
sin?
But that which
he himself
hath wallawed in?
If they suppose so, I no cause can tell,
But they may also boldly say as well
They are
apprentices
to every trade,
Of which they find they have descriptions made,
Or for because they see them write those things,
That do belong to rule best, say th' are
Kings:
As though that
sacred Poesie
inspired,
No other
knowledge
then might be acquired
By the dull outward
sense;
yes, this is She
That shows us no
•
alone all things that be,
But by her power lays before out view,
Such wondrous things as
Nature
never knew
And then whereas they say that men are worse,
By reading what these write, 'tis their own curse,
For is the
flower
faulty cause we see,
The loathsome spider and the painful Be,
Make diverse use on it? No it is the same,
Unto the spider though she cannot frame,
Like sweetness as the Be thence; But indeed
I must confess that this bad age doth breed,
Too many that without respect presume,
This worthy title on them to assume,
And vndeseru'd base fellows, whom mere time,
Hath made sufficient to bring forth a
Rime,
A
Curtain
ligge, a libel or a ballet,
For Fiddlers or some Roagues with staff and wallet
To sing at doors; men only wise enough,
Out of some rotten old worm-eaten stuff,
To patch up a bald witless
Comedy,
And trim it here and there with
Ribaldry
Learn'd at a baudy house▪ I say theres such,
And they can never be disgracit too much,
For though the name of
Poet
such abuses,
Yet they are enemies to all the
Muses
And dare not sort with them for fear they will,
Tumble them headlong down
Parnassus
hill:
Why then should their usurping of it wrong
That
Title
which doth not to them belong?
And wherefore should the shame of this lewd, crew
Betide them, unto whom true honors due?
It shall not; for how ere they use the name,
Their works will show how they do merit fame;
And though it be disgracit through ignorance,
The generous will
Poesie
advance:
As the most Antique
Science
that is found,
And that which hath been the first root & ground
Of every Art; yea that which only brings
Content;
and hath been the delight of
kings;
Great JAMES our King both loves & lives a Poet,
His books now extant do directly show it,
And That shall add unto his worthy name,
A better glory, and a greater fame
Then
Britain's Monarchy;
for few but he,
I think will both a
King
and
Poet
be;
And for the last, although some fools debase it,
I am in the mind that
Angels
do embrace it:
And though
God
giuit here but in part to some,
All shall hauit perfect in the
world to come.
This in defense of
Poesie
to say
I am compelled, because that at this day,
Weakness
and
Ignorance
hath wronged it sore▪
But what need any man therein speak more
Then
Divine Sidney
hath already done?
For whom (though he deceased ere I begu
•
)
I have oft sighed, and bewaild my
Fate,
That brought me forth so many years too late,
To view that
worthy;
And now think not you
Oh
Daniel, Draiton, Johnson, Chapman
how
I long to see you with your fellow
Peers,
Matchless
Sylvester,
glory of these years.
I hither to have only heard your fames
And know you yet but by your works and names:
The little time, I on the earth have spent,
Would not allow me anymore content:
I long to know you better that is the truth,
I am in hope you will not disdain my
Youth.
For know you
Muses Darlings,
I will note rave,
A fellowship amongst you for to have:
Oh no; for though my ever willing heart,
Have vowed to love and praise
You
and your
Art;
And though that I your style do now assume,
I do not, nor I will not so presume;
I claim not that too-worthy name of
Poet;
It is not yet deseru'd by me, I know it.
Grant me I may but on your
Muses
tend,
And be enrould their
Servant,
or their
Friend.
And if desert hereafter worthy make me,
Then for a
Pellow
(if it please you) take me.
But yet I must not here give off to speak,
To tell men wherein I have found them weak,
And chiefly those that cannot brook to hear,
Mention of
Death
but with much grief and
Fear
•
For many are not able for to take
That thought into them, but their
souls
will quake▪
Poor feeble spirits, would you nere away,
But dwell forever in a piece of Clay?
What find you here wherein you do delight,
Or what's to seeing that's worth the sight?
What? doth the heavens thy endeavors bless
And wouldst thou therefore live for to possess
The Joy thou hast? seekit not; perhaps to morro
•
Thoulit wish to have died today, to scape the sorro
•
Thou then shall see, for shame take stronger
Hearts
And add mo
•
e courage to your betteer
Parts;
For
Death's
not to be feared, since tis a
Friend,
That of your
sorrows
makes a gentle end.
But here a quality I call to mind.
That I amongst the
Common-people
find,
This 'tis, a weak one to; when they perceive
A friend near death, and ready for to leave
This wretched life; and if they hear him say
Some par
•
ing words, as if he might not stay,
Nay say not so
(these comforters reply)
Take heart your time's not come, ye shall not die;
What man, and grace of God you shall be stronger;
And live no doubt yet, many a fair day longer.
Think not on Death;
with many such like words,
Such as their understanding best affords:
But where is now become this people's wit?
What doth their knowledges esteem more fit
Then death to think on; chiefly when men be
About to put off their
Mortal
•
tie?
Me thinks they rather should persuade them then
Fearelesse to be resolu'd, to die like Men.
For want of such a resolution stings
At point of
Death;
and dreadful horror brings,
•
e'ne to the
soul;
cause wanting preparation,
She lies despairing of her own
salvation;
Yea and moreover this full well know I,
He that's at any time afraid to
die,
•
s in weak case, and whatso'ere he saith,
Hath but a wavering and a feeble Faith.
But what need I go farther to relate,
The frailty I have seen in
Mans
estate?
Since this I have already said makes clear,
That of all
Creatures,
God hath placed here,
(Provided we respect them in their kind)
We cannot anymore unable find;
For of our selves we have not power to speak,
No nor to frame a thought, we are so
weak.
Against our bodies eve'ry thing prevails,
And oft our knowledge and our judgment fails;
Yea if that one man's strength were now no less,
Then all men do in general possess.
Or if he had attained to ten-times more
Then all
God's
creatures joined in one before;
Yet would his power be eauen then so small,
When he stands surest; he's but sure to fall;
'It is only weakness that doth make us droupe,
And unto
Crosses
and diseases stoop:
That makes us
Vain, Inconstant,
and
Vnsure,
Vnable any good things to endure:
It brings us to the servile base subjection,
Of all loose
Passion,
and vntam'd affection:
It leads us and compels us oft to stray
Both beside
Truth,
and out of
Reasons
way.
And lastly we, and that because of this,
Either do
Nothing;
or do all amiss.
Which being so, we may with
David
then,
Confess that we are rather
Wormes
then men.
OF PRESVMPTION.
SATYR. 4.
SOft heedless
Muse
thou no advisement take'st,
Wast not of
Men
that last of all thou spak'st:
It was: and of the
weakness
•
too of men,
Come then with shame now and denieit agen,
Reca
•
t: for so the matter thou didst handle,
Thou mayest be cursed fort, with
Bell Book
&
Candle:
Is mankind weak? who then can by their powers,
Into the Air hurl Palaces and Towers?
And with one blast'ne in a moment make,
Whole
Kingdoms
and brave
Monarchies
to shake.
Or what are they that dare for toaspire,
Into
God's
seat; and if it might be higher:
That forgive sins as fast as men can do them,
And make
Jehovah
be beholding to them?
I'ue heard of such; what are they? would I wist;
They can make
Saints
they say of whom they list:
And being made, above the
Stars
canseat them
Yea with their own hands make their God's & eat thē
Ha? are they men; How darest thou then to speak,
Such
B
•
asphemy
to say
mankind
is weak?
I tell thee this
Muse,
either
Man
is strong,
And through thy babbling thou hast done him wrong,
Or else beyond his limits he doth err,
And for
presumption
puts down
Lucifer:
Ist so? Nay then I prithee
Muse
go on,
And let us hear of his
presumption:
For I do know, cause I have heard him vaunt,
That he's a
Creature proud
and
Arrogant:
And it may be he is not of such might
As he makes show for; but vsurps some's right▪
Thereit go's indeed, for though he be so base
So weak, and in such miserable case,
That I want words of a sufficient worth,
To paint his most abhorred vileness forth:
Yet such is also his detested Pride,
That I suppose the
Devil
is belide
By every man that shall affirm or say
He is more proud; for do but mark I pray:
This
Creature man;
did
Natures
powerful King,
(
God,
that of nothing framed everything)
M
•
uld out of
Clay;
a piece which he had rent,
E'ne from the
Earth
the basest Element:
And whereas he might have been made
a Thrall,
Yea and the very
Vuderling
of all;
That
God
with title of
Chief Ruler
gracit him,
And as a
Steward
over all things placit him:
Gaue him a pleasant
garden
for to till,
And
Leave
to eat of every tree at will.
Only of one indeed he did deny him,
And peradventure of that
one,
to try him;
But see his insolence; though
God
did threat
Death
if he eat, and though that
God
was great,
And so exceeding
Just,
that he well knew,
All that he threatened doubtless would ensue:
Thogh
God
were strong, & could, had mā been prouder
(Pore clay-bred
worm
) have stamped him into powder
•
Yet (not withstanding all this same) did he
Presume to taste of that forbidden tree.
A rash beginning, but he sped so ill,
D'ye think he held on this presumption still?
To hear he had left that offense 'twere news,
But
Cain
and
Nimrod, Pharaoh
and the Jews,
Shew'd it continued; and grew much more,
Rather then lesser▪ then it was before;
Cain
in his murder, and his proud reply;
Nimrod
in that he dared to build so high;
Pharaoh
by boldly tempting God, to show
His sundry plagues to Egypt's overthrow;
And many ways the last; but what need I,
Recite examples of Antiquity?
Or for to tax old ages for that crime,
Since there was nere a more presumptuous time
Then this that's now; what dare not men to do,
If they have any list or mind thereto?
Their fellow creatures they do much contemn,
Vaunting that all things were ordained for them;
Yea both the gladsome days and quiet nights,
Sun, Moon, & Heaven, with those glorious lights,
Which so be spangle that fair azure roof,
They think were only made for their behoove:
When as alas their poor and weak command
Cannot extend so far for to withstand
The least Stars force; and them and their estate,
Sun, Moon, and stars too, do predominate.
Before our fall indded we did excel,
All other creatures that on earth did dwell,
But now I think the very worst that be,
Have just as much to boast upon as we.
Our soul's defil d; And therefore if in Sence
We place our worth and chief prehemmence,
It is known that there be diverse Creatures then
Will have the upper hand; for they pass men;
And though we still presume vponit, tis vain,
To challenge our old Soueraingty again;
For when that we from our obedience fell
All things against us also did rebel,
Lions and Bears, and Tigers sought our blood
The barren earth denied to yield us food:
The clouds raignd plagues, and yet dare we go on,
We find such pleasure in Presumption.
But for because there's some do scarcely know,
How we do in that fault offend; I will show.
First, when that they new worshippings invent,
And cannot hold themselves so well content
With that which God doth in his word ordain,
As with inventions of their own weak brain,
It seems they think their fancies to fulfill,
Would please him better then to have his will.
Next I do reckon them, that over-bold,
God's sacred Legend have at will contrould,
And maugre his grand-curse some places changed
Added to some, and some again estrang'd;
Then those great masters I presumptuous deem,
That of their knowledge do so well esteem,
They will force others, as the
Papists
do
For to alow of their opinions to,
Yea though it be a mere imagination,
That neither hath good ground nor just foundation
Some will be prying though they are forbidden,
Into those secrets, God meant should be hidden.
So do some students in Astrology,
Though they can make a fair Apology▪
And so do those that very vainly try,
To find our fortunes by their Palmistrie;
These do presume, but much more such as say,
At this or that time, comes the judgment day.
Or such as ask, or dare for to relate,
What God was doing ere he did create
Heaven and Earth; or where he did abide,
How and by whom, he then was glorifide.
But those that into such deep secrets wind.
A slender profit in their labors find;
For to make known how highly they offend,
A desperate madness is ofttimes their end.
Yet such their nature is, theile not beware,
But to be prying further still they dare,
For sure that longing can no way be flaid,
Which well the Poet seemed to know, who said,
Man, what he is forbidden still desires,
And what he is denide off, most requires.
Rather then many will a man gainsay,
They dare make bold with God, they think they may
Because it seems they deem him not so strong,
Or so well able to revenge a wrong.
Some such great power to themselves assume,
And on their own strength do so much presume,
They seldom do for
God's
assistance crave,
As if it were a needless thing to have;
Which is the cause that often the conclusion
Proues their own shame, their hindrance & confusion;
In
Praying,
men presume, (Unless they be,
With everyone in love and charity:)
Or if in their Petitions, they desire
Such things as are unlawful to require;
Death's
their reward, we know, that break the law,
But neither that, nor yet damnations awe
Keeps us from sin; a thousand
God-heads
more,
Then
one
we make, and dare for to adore
Our own hand-works; the Sabbath we disdain,
And dreadlesse take the name of God in vain:
If but by his
Lord's
hand an
Irish
swear,
To violate that oath he stands in fear;
Least him of both his lands and goods he spoil,
For making him the instrument of guile:
And yet dare we (poor worms) before his face,
(Respecting whom, the greatest Lord's are base)
Both swear, & forswear; using that great Name
At pleasure, without any fear of blame:
Why should not we as well suppose that he,
Who in our hearts would have no fraud to be,
Will miserable, poor, and naked leave us,
Yea, of those Blessings and Estates bereave us
We now hold of him, If we thus contemn,
And still abuse his sacred name, and him?
But men secure in wickedness per
•
ist
As if they could please
God
with what they list;
If they can,
Lord have mercy on them
say,
And mumble some few prayers once a day,
There needs no more; nay, surely there be such,
That think it is enough; if not too-much:
But what's their reason? God made all the man,
Why should he have but part allowed him than?
He in their service nothing doth delight,
Unless it be with all their strength and might,
With their whole heart, & soul, and that way toe,
As he appoints them in his word to do:
Some men their are who hope by honesty,
By their
Alms-deeds,
and works of
Charity
To win God's favor, and for to obtain
Salvation by it; but their hope's in vain:
Also, their's others cause they have the faith,
For to believe 'tis true the Scripture saith,
Since they have knowledge in
Religion,
And make thereof a strict profession:
Or do observe the outward worship duly,
Do think that their in they have pleased God truly.
Now these are just as far as the other wide,
Or they God's worship do by halfs divide,
And for his due which is e'ne all the heart,
Do dare presume to offer him a part;
But the one must know he will not pleased be,
With a Religion that wants honesty:
And the other that as little good will do,
His honest show without Religion toe;
If this be so, (as so it is indeed)
How then will those presumptuous fellows speed?
Who think (forsooth) because that once a year,
They can afford the poor some slender cheare;
Observe their
Country feasts,
or
Common doles,
And entertain their Christmas wassaile boles,
Or else because that for the
Churches
good,
They in defense of
Hock-tide
custom stood;
A
Whitsun-ale,
or some such goodly motion,
The better to procure young men's devotion:
What will they do, I say, that think to please,
Their mighty God with such vain things as these?
Sure very ill; for though that they can mone,
And say that Love and Charity is gone
As old folks do, because their banquetings,
Their ancient-drunken-summer reuelings
Are out of date; though they can say through teaching,
And since the Gospel hath had open preaching,
Men are grown worse; though they can soon espy
A little mote in their own neighbors eye
Yea though that they their
Pater noster
can,
And call their honest neighbor
Puritan;
(How ere they in their own conceits may smile,
Yet they are presumptuous, weak, and vile;
Also in this abhominable time,
It is amongst us now a common crime,
To flout and scoff at those which we do spy,
Willing to shake off human
Vanity;
And those that gladly do themselves enforce,
Unto a strict and more religious course,
Then most men do; although, they truly know
No men are able to pay half they owe (thought
Unto their
God,
(as though their wisdoms
He migh be served better then he ought,
They count precise and curious more then needs,
They try their sayings and weigh all their deeds:
A thousand things that they
well
do shall be,
Slightly past over as if none did see:
But one thing ill done, (though the best does ill)
They shall be certain for to hear of still;
Yea not with standing they can daily smother,
Millions of ten times greater faults in other:
Who are so hated or so often blamed?
Or so reuil'd, or scorned? or so misnam'd?
To whom do we now our contentions lay,
Who are so much termed
Puritans
as they
That fear God most? But tis no marvel men,
Presume so much to wrong his children; when
As if they feared not his revengeful rod,
They can blaspheme and dare to anger
God.
Now by these words to some men it may seem,
That I have
Puritans
in high esteem;
Indeed, if by that name you understand,
Those that the vulgar
Atheists
of this land,
Do daily term so; that is such as are
Fore-named here; and have the greatest care
To know and please their maker: then 'tis true,
I love them well; for love to such is due:
But if you mean
the busy headed sect,
The hollow crew, the counterfeit Elect:
Our D
•
gmatists, and ever-wrangling spirits,
That do as well contemn good works, as merits:
If you mean those that make their care seem great
To get souls food, when 'tis for bodies meat,
Or those all whose Religion do depend,
On this,
that they know how to discommend
A Maygame, or a Summerpole defy,
Or shake the head, or else turn up the eye;
If you mean those, how ever they appear,
This I say of them (would they all might hear)
Though in a zealous habit they do wander,
Yet they are God's foes and the Churches slander;
And though they humble be in show to many,
They are as haughty every way as any.
What need I here the lewd presumptions tell
Of Papists in these days? tis known to well:
For them there of each peasant now conuinces,
In things as well concerning God as Princes,
Other▪ I find toe, that do dare presume,
The Office of a Teacher to assume;
And being blind themselves and gone astray,
Take on them to show other men the way.
Yea some there be, who have small gifts or spirit,
No kind of knowledge, and as little merit;
That with the world have made a firm cōiunctio
•
▪
Yet dare to undergo the sacred function
Of Christ his Pas
•
or. Yea such is their daring,
That neither for their Charge nor Duty caring,
Insteed of giving good and sound Instruction,
They lead themselves and others to Destruction.
We read that
Jeremiah
and
Moses
both,
To undertake their charge were wondrous loath:
(The greatness of the same so much appal'd them)
Yea though that God himself directly called them:
But our brave Clerks as if they did condemn,
The two much bashful backwardness of them:
Or else as if themselves they abler thought;
Those Divine Callings, have not only sought
Without respect of their Ability,
A
C
•
ristian
Conscience or Ciuility,
But being of old
Simon Magus
tribe,
Purchase it often with a hateful bribe;
Which shows that they such places do desire,
Not for the good of others but their hire:
But
Patrons
fear ye neither God nor hell?
Dare ye the
Churches
patrimony sell
For filthy lucre, in despite of Law
Sacred or human? Pedants dare ye? hah?
Dare you buyit of them? by God's help, unless
This villainy ere long, have some redress,
I will find a means, or else let me have blame,
To bring some smart, or else eternal shame
Upon you for it; it may be you do sent it,
But all your policy shall not prevent it:
What do you look for Hell and your
D
•
mnation?
Well you shall have it by Impropriation;
I know now you have entered
Simony,
Youle double damn yourselves with
Periury.
For, they as oft together may be seen,
As is the chilling
fever
and the
spleen,
But oh dear
Countrymen
be more aduis'd,
Think what
God
is he may not be dispis'd.
Could you well weigh his
Justice
and his power,
How many infinites it passeth over:
And knew his judgments we would not dissemble
An outward feigned reverence; but tremble
And shake with horror; you would not dare to venter
Sanctum Sanctorum
so unfit to enter;
His
Churches
good you rather would advance,
Then rob it thus of her inheritance;
Or make the same (as men still unbelieving)
Like to
a house of Merchandise and Theeuing.
You
to whom deeds of former times are known,
Mark to what pass this age of ours is grown,
Even with us that strictest seem to be,
In the professing
Christianity;
You
know men have been careful to augment,
The
Churches
portion and have been content
To add unto it out of their estate;
And
Sacrilege
all
Nations
did so hate
That the mere
Irish
who seemed not to care,
For
God
nor
Man
had the respect to spare
The
Churches
profits; yea their heed was such
That in the time of need they would not touch,
The known provisions, they daily saw,
Stor'd up in
Churches:
in such fear and awe
The places held them; though that they did know
The things therein belonged to their foe:
But now the world & man's good natures changed
From this opinion most men are estrang'd;
We rob the Church, and what we can attain
By
Sacrilege
and
theft
is our best gain:
In paying dues the refuse of our stock,
The barrennest and leanest of our flock
Shall serve our
Pastor?
whom for to deceive
We think no sin; nay further (by your leave)
Men seek not to impropriate a part
Unto themselves: but they can find in heart
T'engross up all: which vile
presumption,
Hath brought
Church-livings
to a strange consumption
And if this strong disease do not abate,
'Twil be the poorest member in the
State;
No marvel though in steed of learned
Preachers,
We have been pestered with such simple Teachers
Such poor, mute, tongue-tide readers, as scarce know
Whether that God made
Adam
first or no:
Thence it proceeds, and there's the cause that Place
And Office at this time incurs disgrace.
For men of judgment or good dispositions,
Scorn to be tide to any base conditions:
Like to our hungry
Pedants,
who'le engage,
Their souls for any curtold
Vicarage.
I say theres none of knowledge, wit, or merit▪
But such as are of a most servile spirit,
That will so wrong the
Church
as to presume,
Some poor-half-demi-Parsnage to assume
In name of all; no, they had rather quite
Be put beside the same, than wrong
God's
right,
Well, they must entertain such
Pedants
then,
Fitter to feed swine, then the souls of men:
But
Patrons
think such best, for there's no fear
They will speak anything they loath to hear;
They may run foolishly to their own damnation,
Without reproof or any disturbation;
To let them see their vice they may be bold,
And yet not stand in doubt to be contol'd:
Those in their houses may keep private Schools,
And either serve for Iesters or for fools,
And will suppose that they are highly gracit,
Be they but at their
Patrons
table placit:
And there if they be called but
Priests
in scoff,
Straight they duck down and all their caps come off,
Supposing it for to be done in kindness,
Which shows their Weaknes & apparent Blindnes.
Moreover 'tis well known that former time
Held it to be a vild presumptuous crime;
Such men in sacred Offices to place,
Whom they knew touched with any foul disgrace:
Or to allow those whom they did suspect,
To have an outward bodily defect:
But be they now not only crooked, lame,
Dismembr'd, and of the vnshapeliest frame
That ever
Nature
formed; though they be blind,
Not in sight only, but as well in mind,
Though they be such who if they come to shreeuin
•
Might confess murder, whoredom, slander, theeuing
And all damb'd villainy; yet these men will be
Admitted to the
sacred Ministry:
But most of us do now disdain that Place,
Accounting it unworthy, mean, and base;
Yea like to
Jereboam's
Priests, we see,
They of the lowest of the people he:
And though we know, the
Israelites
allowed
God the first-borne for his; we are so proud,
Unless they either do want shape or wit,
Or seem for worldly business unfit:
Few think God's service worthy the bestowing
Their
Child
about it; or such duty owing
Unto the same; but rather that
Vocation
They count a blemish to their reputation.
But where's your understanding, oh you men?
Turn from your brutish dullness once agen,
Honor God's Messengers for why tis true,
To them both
Reuere
•
ce
and
Honor's
due;
Think what they are and be not still self-minded,
Suffer not reason to be so much blinded;
If not for love that you to
Justice
bear,
Yet follow her (although it be) for fear:
And see that this presumption you amend,
Or look some heavy plague shall be your end.
Then it is also a presumptuous act,
With knowledge to commit a sinful fact
Though never so small; for sin's a subtle else,
That by degrees insinuates it self
Into our souls; and in a little space,
Becomes too-huge a Monster to displace;
Yea, it is certain that one sin, though small,
Will make entrance great enough for all;
And what isit but presumption to abuse,
And without-fear and reverence to use
God's sacred Word;
yet we that
Christ
profess,
Think it no fault, or that there's no fault less:
Else sure we would not in our common talk,
Let our loose tongues so much at random walk,
We would not dare our
Iests
of that to make,
At uttering whereof the Heavens shake;
For if God had reueal'd his
Gospel
news,
To us as heretofore unto the
Jews
He did the
Law;
who heard him to their wonder
Speaking through fearful fiery flames and thunder,
We would more dread in any evil fashon:
To use that sacred means of our suluation
Our cursed
Pagan
unbelieving foe,
I mean the
Turk,
more reverence doth show
In those his dam'nd erroneous Rites then we
In the true
worship:
for 'tis known that he
Will not so much as touch his
Alcharon,
That doth contain his false
Religion
With vnwasht hands; nor till he hath o'rewent
All that his vain and confused rablement
Of Ceremonies us'd; much less dares look,
On the Contents of that unhallowed book;
But we in midst of all our villainy,
In our pot-conference and ribaldry,
Irreuerently can the same apply,
As if 'twere some of
Pasquils Litany:
But soft my
Muse
in her perambulation
Hath hapt upon an
Excomunication:
And though that her
Commission
she wanted
Yet she made bold to search wherefore 'twas granted
Which if you would know too, why it may be,
Some were so pleased because they lackit a fee:
For, had the Officers been well contented,
They say the matter might have been prevented▪
But you that have the wisdoms to discern
When abuse is; pray tell me, I would learn;
Misuse we
Excommunication?
You know
it is a Separation
From God;
and a most fearful banishment,
From the partaking of his Sacrament
And good men's fellowship; a sad exile,
(Perhaps forever, at the least a while)
From the true Church;
and (oh most horrid evil)
A giving of Men over to the Devil.
And therefore was ordained in better times,
Only for such who in their heinous crimes
With hardened obstinacy did persist,
As may appear: but now we at our list,
As if the same but some slight matter were,
For every trifle to pronounce it dare;
And peradventure to, on such as be,
More honest far, and better much than we:
But since my
Muse
hath her endeavor done
To note how men into this fault do run;
I will be bold to let you understand,
One strange
Presumption
noted in our land
Worth the amending; and indeed 'tis this
Readers
pray judge how dangerous it is;
We seeing God hath now removed far,
From this our
Country
his just plague of
war,
And made us through his mercy so much blest,
We do in spite of all our foes yet rest
Exempt from danger; by us it appears,
Through the great blessing of these quiet years,
We are so fear-less care-less and secure
In this our happy peace and so cock-sure
As if we did suppose or heard it sed,
Oul
•
Mars
were strangled or the Devil dead;
Else can I not believe we would so lightly,
Esteem our safely and let pass so slightly
Our former care of
Martial discipline,
For excercises merely Feminine:
We would not see our Arms so soild in dust,
Nor our bright blades eat up with cankered rust,
As now they be; our
Bows
they lie and rot,
Both
Musket
and
Caliuer
is forgot,
And we lie open to all Forraine dangers
For want of Discipline 'tis known to Strangers
Though weel'e not seeit; Alas will not our pleasure,
Let us be once in seven years at leisure
To take a muster and to give instruction?
No rather Pleasure will be our destruction;
For
That
first caused the
Law,
that now prevents,
And bars the use of
Pouder-instruments
To be enacted; why? for to preserve
An idle
Game,
the which I wish might starve
Amids our plenty, so that with their curse,
The land and people might be nothing worse,
Cause for that trifle to the
Realms
abuse,
The
hand-gun
hath been so much out of use
Scarce one in forty if to proof it came,
Dares or knows how for to discharge the same:
Oh valiant English we are like to hold
The glory that our fathers had of old.
But sure I think some
undermining hand,
That studies for the ruin of the land,
Is cause of this, in hope thereby at length,
To weaken ours and let in foreign strength;
What, do we think cause theirs a truce with
Spain,
That we are safe? Alas that thought is vain,
Our dangers rather more; for while they dared,
To proffer wrong they found us still prepared;
The profitable fear that we were in
Preuented danger that might else have been.
But now the cause of former fear is gone,
We have not only let all care alone,
But also are so drunken with delights,
And drownd in pleasure that our dulled sprites
Are so o'reclog'd with Luxury; we droop,
More fit for
Venus
then for
Mars
his troop;
That if our foes should now so venturous be,
For to invade the lan
•
, unless that we,
With speed amend this error, heeres my mind,
The way to
work
our ruin thei'le soon find;
For just the
Troians
last nights watch we keep,
Who then were buried all in
•
ine and sleep.
We read when
Cato
should a
Captain
choose,
For the
Panonian
fight, he did refuse
His kins-man
Publius,
cause that from the war
He often had returned without a scar,
And went perfumed; but if such faults as these,
Displeasd the
Censor,
sure then in our days
He scarcely would in town or country find,
A man with us according to his mind,
Such is our daintiness; Besides to strangers,
(As if there were no cause to doubt of dangers)
We do not only our great riches show,
(A shrewd temptation to allure a foe:)
But we moreover plainly do declare,
By fond apparel, too superfluous fare,
Much idleness and other wanton parts,
That we have weak effeminated hearts;
Which being known are sure a great persuasion,
Unto our enemies to make invasion.
But we do say in God's our only trust,
On him we do depend; well so we must,
And yet we ought not therefore to disdain,
The lawful means by which he doth ordain,
To work our safety then, for thats a sign,
We rather loved to tempt the powers divine,
Then trust unto them; worthy Britain's then,
Leave this presumption, once again be men,
Not weak
Sardanapali;
leave those toys
To idle women, wanton Girls and boys:
Unto your foes I wish you could betake them,
Or unto any so you would forsake them.
Let Martialists that long have been disgracit
Be loved again and in our favors placit:
Count not them rogues; but rather such as can
So much degenerate themselves from
Man,
In tire and gesture both, to womanize,
Goc call a Parliament and there devise
An act to have them whipt now; oh 'twere good,
A deed well worthy such a noble brood,
Mean while let's trim our rusty arms and scour,
Those long vn-used well-steeld blades of our:
We shall not do the spiders any wrong,
For they have rent-free held their house-room long
In
Morians, Helmets, Gauntlets, Bandileres;
Displace them thence, they have had all their years:
And give it such a luster that the light,
May dim the
Mooncshine
in a winters night;
Away with idle
Cithernes, Lutes,
and
Tabers,
Let knocks requite the fidlers for their labors,
Bring in the Warlike Drum, 'twill music make ye,
That from your drowsy pleasures will awake ye:
Or else the hartning trumpet, that from far,
May sound unto you all the points of war:
Let Dances turn to Marches; you ere long,
May know what doth to ranks and files belong,
And let your thundering shot so smoke and roar,
Stangers may tremble to behold the shore,
And know you sleep not; But now to what end
Do you suppose that I these words do spend?
Believe me I am not male content with Peace.
Or do desire this happy time might cease,
I would not have you foul
Seditions
make,
Or any unjust wars to undertake;
But I desire you leave those idle fashions,
That have been the just fall of many nations;
Look well unto yourselves and not suppose,
Cause theres a league with Spain you have no foes:
For if
Wars
ever make this land complain,
It will be through some
Truce
it had with
Spain:
But here I bid you once again beware,
Delay not time but with all speed prepare,
Repaire your forts again, and man them well,
Place better
Captains
in them; I can tell
Some are grown
Covetous
and there's no trust
To such as they; that vice makes men unjust:
They pocket up the wages of their men,
And
One
poor soldier serves alone for
Ten:
Look to the
Navy-royal,
wert well scan'd,
I doubt it will be found but simply man'd:
The
Pursers
study (if some not belie them)
Only which way they may have profit by them;
But see unto it you to whom 't belongs,
See the Abuses done, redress the wrongs:
And oh! renew the forces of this land,
For there's a fearful bloody day at hand,
Though not foreseen, a bloody day for some,
Nor will the same be long before it come.
There is a tempest brewing in the
So
•
th,
A horrid
Vapor
forced from hell's own mouth.
'It is spread already far into the
West,
And now begins to gather to the
East;
When 'tis at full once it will straight come forth
To shoure down all it Vengeance on the
North:
But fear not little I will thy cause is right,
And if thou hast not cast all care off quite,
Nor art secure, why by that token then
Thou shalt drive back that threatening storm agen▪
Through
Cods
assistance for to ruin those,
By, and amongst whom, first of all it rose:
But if that still thou careless snorting lie
In thy presuming blind security,
Takit for a sign that now thy sins are ripe,
And thou shalt surely feel the death-full stripe
Of that ensuing ill, unto thy shame,
And extirpation of thy former fame:
But yet I hope this over-fight will end,
And we shall this presumptuous fault amend:
I hope I say and yet I hope no harms,
To see our
English
youth trickit up in arms;
And so well trained that all their foes shall hear
No news from them but Horror, Death, and Fear;
Yea and their march, like
Iehues
King of
Jury,
Shall show they come with vengeance speed & fury,
I would we could as easily forsake,
Other
Presumptions,
and that we could take
But half the care and diligence to arm
Our souls, in danger of a greater harm:
Would we the holy weapons could assume
Of
Christian
war-fare, and not still presume
To leave our better parts all open so,
For the advantage of the greater foe
Then
Rome
or
Spain:
oh would we could begin,
To feel the danger of
Presumptuous sin!
Which soon would be, if we would once be brought
For to consider with an equal thought,
Our base Beginning and infirmity,
Our wavering and wondrous misery:
And with this wretched poor estate of our,
God's infinite and all-sufficient power:
His
Justice,
with his hatred unto ill,
And threatenings if we disobey his will.
Or else remember he did still behold
And see us when we sinned; for who so bold,
Unless depriu'd of grace then to offend?
But it should seem we our endeavors bend
To anger God, for we of sin complain,
Yet with our
will
sin in his sight again.
Say, wert not a presumption very great,
If coming to a
King
one should entreat
A pardon for some murder, and yet bring
The bloody blade with which he did that thing
He would have mercy for? & whilst he's speaking,
Sheath it again with blood and gore yet reeking,
In the Kings son before his fathers face,
And yet still bide as if he hopit for Grace:
Should we not think him mad? sure yes; yet we
Cannot that madness in our own selves see:
For we dare come before th' almighty King
To sue for pardon for our sins; yet bring
The self same bad mind still, conceiving murder
Against his children to provoke him further.
And look what ill is but in thought begun,
With him's all one as if the same were done,
It is no marvel that no human law,
Can keep our over-daring hearts in awe:
Since that we do so little dread the rod,
Of such a powerful and so just a God:
And if in man's and God's own sight we dare,
So searelesse sin without respect or care,
It seems that we do little conscience make
What mischiefs by our selves we undertake:
Or think it no Presumption to commit,
Somthing alone in our own sight unfit;
Oh grosle and ignorant! why thats the worst,
Of all presumptions the most accurst
And fulst of
Danger.
Silly man take heed,
Do not before thyself an evil deed;
For when God will forgive and man forget,
Thy own ill Conscience will oppose and set
Her self against thee; tell thee thine offending,
And keep thee back from ever apprehending
Grace of forgiveness; neither will afford
The smallest comfort of the sacred word:
But rather to thy sad remembrance call,
Each saying that may serve to prove thy fall:
And though that fire wondrous torture brings
Unto the body, yet when conscience stings
Nor fire nor sword, nor hell it self can yield,
Aworser to meant;
God
defend and shield
Me from the like; and give me grace to fear,
So, that I may preserve my Conscience clear
In all my actions: And then I shall be,
In better case a thousand fold then he
That unto wealth and honor hath obtained,
With a craz'd
Conscience
that is blurd and stained:
Alas how easy wert to climb or mount
To worldly Reputation and Account?
How soon could I if I had an intention
For to contrive or plot a damned invention
Get golden heaps? yea and so privily,
That though twere done by craft and villainy,
I by the blinded World would yet be deemed
Perhaps more honest; but much more esteemed
Then now I am; But
God forbid that I
Such base vain trash and dunghill stuff should buy
At such a rate; for there's no Jewel dearer,
Nor any loss a man can have go nearer
Then peace of
Conscience;
which for to be true,
The ancient Poets very wisely knew,
And therefore feigned their
F
•
ries,
with intent,
For to declare the inward punishment
Of guilty minds; which sure they might do well,
For there is in them
Devils,
yea and hell,
With all her torture; what else was the cause,
Nero
who knew no
God
nor feared laws,
When he had killed his mother took no rest,
But thought he saw her coming to molest
And plague him for it? What made him to surmise
He was still tortured in such hellish wise
That furies did to his appearance scorch
His living body with a burning torch?
Wast not his Conscience that had privy been
Unto the fact? was not the cause within
His own bad self? If twere let's to amending,
Of our presumptuous sins, and bold offending,
If neither in regard of God nor men,
Oh lets for fear of our own Conscience then.
Yet there's another thing which wert well weighd
Our rash presumption would be some-what staid.
The End of life; with the never-ending pain,
God for presumptuous sinners doth ordain,
Could we note that, with deaths uncertain times,
And how it takes men acting of the crimes
Even in the very nick of their offense,
And bears them, ere they can repent them, hence,
To such a place where nothing shall appear,
But all the Gastly objects of grim fear:
Whereas each sense shall severally sustain,
The miserable smart of endless pain:
The tender feeling shall in every part,
Be subject to th' intolerable smart
Of hellish flames, commixt with chilling cold,
Tortures beyond conceit, not to be told;
The dainty mouth, that had the Curioust
taste,
And of the choicest cates still made repast,
Shall be filled up, yea belly, throat and all,
With filth more loath-some then the bitterest gall
The once perfumed
Nostrill,
there shall drink,
Foule noisome smells: beside the sulpherous stink
Of choking flames; and there the listening ear,
Fed with the sound of pleasing
Music
hear,
Shall change it for the woeful screeching cry
Of
Damned souls,
that in hells torture lie;
Whose hydeous howlings can by no defense,
Be kept from percing that amazed sense:
And then while they shall trembling think to fly
From those amazements that do seem so nigh,
To there the fearful'st objects of the sight,
Their quite despairing minds shall more affright,
For garish forms of foul misshapen fiendes,
And ugly
Bugs
for evermore attends,
To thwhart each look. But if this do not make,
Thy over hardened heart (oh man) to quake:
If this relation be too weak to win,
Or to reclaim thee from thy wonted sin;
Reader,
if this do no impression leave,
So that thou canst not any fear conceive
Through this description; think vpont at night
Soone in thy bed when earth's depriu'd of light
I say at mid-night when thou wak'st from sleep,
And lonely darkness doth in silence keep
The Grim-facit night. And but immagine then,
Thou wert borne all alone to some dark den
And there set naked; though thou felts no pain,
Yet seeing no way to get out again,
If thou shouldst in that naked loneness hear,
Some yelling voice, or some strange noise drawn
••
With threatening; or but calling on thy name;
Oh with what
Patience
couldst thou bide the sam
•
But if withal, thy wandering eyes should mark,
And now and then see pearing through the dar
•
Some monstrous visages, or ugly faces
Which should make proffer of some rude embr
•••
And smetime seem as if they would begin
With griping paws to ceize thy trembling ski
•
Or, but suppose that in thy
Chamber
there,
Where cannot be the hundredth part of fear:
(Because to thee the place well known will be
And thou must have wherewith to cover thee)
Yet there I say suppose thou shouldst behold
Nor such grim objects as are here foretold,
But Only hear the doleful voice of men
Complaining in the dark; And now and then
Behold the ghastly shape of friends long dead,
Wrapt in their sheets as they were buried,
Or else from out thy Chamber floor to rise
A troupe of bony, picked
Anatomies
Come pointing to thee, as if thou wert he
That must ere long their bare companion be:
Then thou wouldst fear I know, and think on him
Whose might & fearful power thou didst contemn
Thou wouldst consider better of the fear,
And hellish horror I have mentioned hear.
That Dungeons estate thou wouldest conceive,
And somewhat thy presumptuous actions leave;
Thou wouldst not so cast all thy care behind thee,
But watch thyself for fear least death should find thee,
Doing some il; nor wouldst thou thus delay,
Times of repentance still from day today:
But oh! show should I hope that this I plead,
Will work in them that shall but barely read
What I have writ? Since I myself that know,
And have some inward seeling of that woe
For get myself; I thought when I shall be
From such, and such like cares and troubles free,
Then will I all my vanities forsake,
A better course of life I will undertake,
And only seek the glory of his name
By whom I live; That day ere long time came;
Then I had other lets; but if that they,
As I did seek they might were once away,
I would indeed my duty better do:
Well, so it pleased God I orepast them too;
Yet something hindered still that I could never
In my intended
Christian
course persevere.
But ever found unto my grief and sorrow,
That I was bad today and worse tomorrow:
But oh! thou God that knowest my hearts desire,
Do not; oh do not at my hands require
My youthful sins; though that my flesh be frail,
And my affections often do prevail:
Seeing thou knowest the weak estate of man,
And what a little his small power can;
Accept my will, and let thy blood suffice,
To quit the rest of mine iniquities,
But now, because I have observed such store,
I needs must tell a few presumptions more.
Some in contemning others wisdom, show,
That they presume themselves do all things, kno
•
But that vile self-conceit nere raised any,
Certain I am it is the fall of many:
Others (and they in this kind too offend,)
On their own
Memories
too much depend:
Such I have heard so confidently speak,
As if they had no thought that men were wea
•
Yea those though twenty men have all gain-said
What they affirmed, were not yet afraid,
Their own bare affirmation to out-face,
With sundry oaths: such wondrous trust they place
In their remembrance; yea myself ere now
Have been ofttimes more rash for to anow
What I thought truth; then ere I will be again:
For what I deemd to be so sure and plain,
That I not only stood init to my might,
But would have paun'd my life 'thad been the right
That to my shame, I have myself alone,
Found to be false when all the rest were gone.
Which greeu'd me so that I will nere more rely
Or trust so much to mine own memory.
But what may I term those, who for a name,
Or for to get some vile prepostrous fame;
Will desperately for the nonce begin,
To put in action some ungodly sin
That all men loath; and only as they say,
For to be talked of. What are such I pray?
Presumptuous, vain, or weak, or all that's bad,
The last I think and ten-times more then mad;
Yet we have gallants, and great store of such,
That in their great Brauadoes care not much
What villainies they do; But 'tis their humor,
Only to fill men's mouths with idle Rumor.
And cause they know the Vulgar sort do deem them,
Youths of great Spirit, and do much esteem them,
But amongst wise-men they are sure to gain.
Reprochfull shame and well deseru'd disdain,
Yet for to add some fame unto this story:
We will be queath them
Erostratus
glory.
Nor have our old men left that humor yet,
For though through feebleness they are unfit
To put in practice their old tricks again,
Yet for to show they like them, and would fain,
Thei'le often with a lie or two recite them,
And the remembrance doth so much delight them
That whereas they ought rather to repent,
And with a grieved heart for to lament
Their former folly; They with Joy and Laughter
Seeme to approuit in those that shall come after.
Yet there's a crew the which my
Muse
well knows,
To them she here a
Memorandum
owes
And yet no Commendations, for they are
But busy fellows that do boldly dare
Take on them in their comments, for to find
The secret meaning of each Authors mind.
And to apply that in particular
That should extend to all in general:
And in this little book perhaps they can,
Say here I meant one, there another man;
And by their names they will not stick to show them,
When as perhaps I nere so much as knew them.
So from my honest meaning they will rear them
A slander for some private grudge they bear them
But though these are so bold, yet I believe,
Or hope at least▪ no men of wisdom give
Credit to any such interpretations,
That are but false imaginations;
Since each of these what style soere he crave,
Doth show him a presumptuous fool and knave,
But hear all you that are quite void of care,
What you presume in: chiefly you that dare,
Maugre
God's
threats, go foreward to fulfill,
Your naughty, rash, unbridled hare-brain will;
As if you thought that you yourselves made all,
And that indeed there were no God at all.
Know this, ere long time it shall come to pass,
That you shall houling sit and cry, alas:
Cursing your births and miserable state,
With sad repentance when it is too late,
Unless you now take time. Oh worms! oh men!
Forsake your sollies, oh forsake them then,
What will you do else when that seized by death,
Ready to draw the latest gasp of breath:
When as you are so weak that you would fain,
But cannot move your tongues for to complain?
What would you do if then their should appear
The Authors of most miserable fear,
Your guilty Consciences, and there vnroll
To your remembrances the dreadful scroll,
Of your Presumptions, and with all present,
•
vision of th 'infernal punishment,
•
repar'd for such? And if in that bad case,
You should behold him you esteemed so base
•
t with such power, that at each frown he makes
•
he earth doth tremble and the heaven shakes:
What would you do? Oh anything I am sure,
•
o pain there is but you would then endure
To scape his wrath if you do not despair,
Then will you beg, entreat, and promise fair;
Or anything, if so it were you might
Return to life again; then you would quite
Alter your doings, then forsooth you will be
A pattern unto all posterity.
You would be humble, meek, devout and chaste
But now theres time, and then it may be past:
Yet I myself have heard those that have vowed,
Much in their anguish, and God hath allowed
A longer time, yea hath vouchsafed to save
And give them life again e'ne at the grave:
And yet have these forgot their former pain
And turned unto their own ill ways again:
Which having seen, this for us men I will speak,
Not without grief; though nothing be so weak:
Yet we are in our own conceits so tall,
That for presumption we do out-pass all:
And if so be that this same hardening sin
Do seize upon the heart once and get in;
My mind is this 'twill nere be purged thence well,
No not with all the fears and pangs of
Hell.
EPILOGVS.
SO in some measure I have now made known.
What foul abuses
Time
to me hath shown
And what man is: I have explained some Crimes
That I have noted in these present times.
Then though I have been still accounted idle,
This shows I have not given time the bridle
To run away vnmannag'd; But did use it
Then best, when I seemed most for to abuse it?
Here sinful man thou mayest behold in part
Thy miserable state and what thou art:
Thy Passions, thy vanities here see,
In part I say for all there cannot be:
Thy waverings and thy frailties I'ue explained,
With thy Presumption, yet nothing feigned;
If thou hast read it, then I hope thou knowest,
Though thou seemest bad, thou art worse then thou show'st
And I do trust thy wretchedness espide,
Will quell thy most intolerable pride;
I mus'd a while thou wert so prone to sinning,
But 'twas thy fault I see from the beginning:
And as the Lord himself once said, so still,
T' immaginations of thy heart are ill:
That's one main cause; then to perform an evil,
Thou hast the proneness of the flesh, the Devil,
With bad examples of his instigation,
Besides the worlds rash approbation:
But yet would I not have thee think, oh man!
That I with
Tymon
the
Athenian
Desire to make thee so much feel thy woe,
To go and hang thyself; I mean not so,
Or for to drive thee thereby to despair,
'It is not my purpose, my intent's more fair:
This I would have thee do, since flesh is frail,
And Satan will be busy to prevail:
With heed and care watch over thy affection,
And in thy doings follow this direction.
First see ifit be thy flesh that moves thee to
Those things the which thou art about to do,
Next to consider well it doth behooue thee,
What kind of men they are that do approve thee:
For true it is as I have oft been taught,
What flesh desires, and most approves is naught.
And since they thrust thee forward unto evil,
Thou hast an ill heart, proud flesh, and the Devil
With bad example. Learn oh man to season,
Thy heart with sacred, thoughts, with truth & reason
Thy flesh with labor; and with fasting tame
And twil not be so subject unto blame;
Preuent the Devils baits and his temptations,
With earnest prayers and good meditations,
And see thou heed to thy companions giu'st,
Since thou wilt be as these with whom thou liu'st;
Yea since thou art so subject unto sin,
Shun all occasions that may draw thee in,
So when thy God shall see thou hast a will,
And true desire for to amend what's ill,
He will accept it for his sons dear sake,
And thee more willing, and more able make;
Yea should thy Sins more red then scarlet grow,
Yet he would make them whiter then the snow.
Thy now black soul, were it thrice more defilde,
As innocent as is the new borne child:
And thy most miserable body, far
More glorious then is the brightest Star:
But if thou, without care or heed, dost lean
Unto those lusts of flesh that are unclean;
If thou take pleasure and delight to do them,
Quite giving over thy desire unto them,
They both in soul and body toe, will make thee
So fowl a Leaper that God will forsake thee;
His holy Angels and his Saints abhor thee,
And only Devils make entreaty for thee;
Yea thou must in
Gehynnon
wail with them,
That are excluded new
Jerusalem.
The end of the second book.
THE SCOVRGE.
MY Muse I purposed to have rested here,
And so she should indeed, but that I fear
A gentle warning will not now suffice
To make men leave off their iniquities:
Yea, I do know their negligence so great,
It is not enough for to persuade or threat:
And therefore Ime resolved ere I part,
To give them a remembrance to their smart,
And though full loath, cause their ill natures urge
I will send abroad a Satir with a scourge,
That to their shame for this abuse shall strip them,
And being naked in their vices, whip them:
And to be sure of these that are most rash,
Not one shall scape him that deserves a lash,
But some will kick, now let them kick & spare not,
So he may come and Ierk them well I care not;
For be they rich, or poor, or weak, or strong,
I will make him find them that delight in wrong,
Not in despite, to make revengeful rumors;
Rather in sport to mock the worlds base humors;
But least I make my Prologue over-large,
'I will let my whipping-Satyr know his charge:
First though he have but little manners got;
Bred in the woods; where many use them not:
Yet will I send him to survey the court,
And dance the
Witch
to make his king some sport.
Do
Satyr,
go, thou shalt not be disdained,
Love without merit hath been entertained,
And so many thine; that Progenies the most,
Yea all indeed of which the world can boast,
And that so worthy: ('tis a wondrous matter)
Commend it how thou wilt thou canst not flatter.
If thou mayest get their favor that's the best,
There is no cause why thou shouldest fear the rest
The good will help but never hurt, then care not,
Although the wicked would offend they dare not.
First lash the great ones, but if thou be wise,
In general and do not speciallize:
Yet if thou do, so wisely let it be,
None may except but those that faulty be.
Now peradventure some will rage or storm,
But that's no matter thou art freely borne;
And though their eyes spark fire, and they look big
Be thou as stern, thou needest not care a fig;
And tell them plainly ' tis not all their show,
Can make them think them better thē they know;
'It is not great words, nor yet a large possession,
Shall free them from the scandal of oppression,
Thogh they can now, to get themselves a name,
Build
Babel
up a new, and quickly frame
Such lofty Palaces as if they meant,
To threaten heaven from the batlement.
Who wonders at it? none I think; and why?
Who is so mad to tell them that, not I?
Yet Satyr look that thou before thou part,
Give them one ierke to make their Honors smart,
Their Stately houses say are things but vain:
An age or two shall rot them down again;
And for their vice if there be none dare show it,
Say I have vowed to make the world to know it,
Then tis not toombes nor yet a heap of stones,
Shall make men think the better of their bones,
No, it shall speak their Avarice and pride,
Which those they scorned and wronged, shall then deride.
So let them go their Sovereign to attend,
And those that be not at the best, amend:
Search on for more; but if thou hap to find
Any among them of the female kind,
Women or Angels, bad or good; thine eyes
Shall not look toward their infirmities.
What ere some say, no man will, or can,
Wrong him (I will warrant) that's an honest man,
For they are good and surely would be still,
Werit not that men did often make them ill:
Those that are angry with them let them show it,
I will say th' are Virtuous for because I know it.
Men's faults I tell, so may he women's too
That's plagu'd by whores, with whom he had to do.
These if thou hap to see, I charge thee skip,
And search in every office with thy whip;
There, there are those that for their private store
Make both th' exchequer & the commons poor,
Extortion doth maintain their bravery,
Yet lay not open all their knavery,
But tell them they a new account must bring,
That lash perhaps their guilty soul will sting.
Thou shalt in Court another troop espy,
Such as in show are full of honesty,
Faire tongue'd; but he that such fine followers wants
Is happy; for they are but Sycophants,
Dissembling▪ Villaines: do but note them well,
And thou wilt say they are the brood of hell.
For pluck away their feigned fidelity,
And they are e'ne a heap of villainy:
To make them smart these words to them commend
That beggary and shame shall be their end.
Yet thou shalt find depending on the Court
Some that will ieast to make their betters sport,
But sift them, I durst pawn a brace of testers,
If truth were known they are more fools then Iesters
And so they are supposed, although indeed,
They are more knaves then fools; but take thou heed
Come not within the compass of their Bable,
Then call them knaves as loud as thou art able;
If thou come thither at some public show,
As there thou shalt be whether they will or no,
Remember that thou make a shift to creep
Neere to the place where they the Re
•
else keep.
There stand a while unseen, and do no more,
But note those fellows that do keep the door,
If thou perceive some, as some will do then,
Keep out a many worthy Gentlemen,
And let a Laundresse or a Scoundrel pass,
Give him a ierk and tell him he's an asse;
But least thou spy what may make thee ashamed,
Or speak of that for which thou mayest be blamed,
Leave thou the Court if thy own ease thou pity,
And come a while to walk about the Citty▪
As soon as there thou ent'rest thou shalt meet
Great store of Gallants pacing out the street:
A part from dice, or fence, or dancing come,
And peradventure from a whore-house some,
Those are goodfellowes that will frankly spend,
While land will last or any man will lend;
And yet to see (more fools the world had never)
They are so proud as ifit twould last forever,
And though these lightly cannot have a worse,
Or deadlier sickness then an empty purse
Which will ensue, yet tell them they must meet
At the Kings-bench, the Counter, or the Fleet,
Then step unto the Lawyers, peraduentnre
They'l by some
Writ
command thee not to enter:
Yet fear them not but look and thou shalt spy,
Under their gowns a mess of Knauery.
Pluck off their mask of law that clokes their drifts,
And thou shalt see a world of lawless shir
•
s;
But tell them theres a judge will not be feed,
And that perhaps will make their conscience bleed;
Then tell the Scriveners as thou passest by:
That they were best to leave their forgery,
Or else, why isit their ears do scape so well,
The Devil means to bear them whole to hell▪
Tell the Physicians if thou meet with any,
Their Potions & their Drugs have murder'd many
For which thou wouldest have lashed, but dost delay them
Because the devil means himself to pay thē;
But if thei'l prove conclusions, bid them then,
Tryit on themselves and not on other men:
Desire the Brokers that they would not yaune,
After the forfeit of another's pawn,
It is their right by law theile say, tis true,
And so's their soul, perhaps, another's due;
But sting them if their conscience quite be fled,
Then shall they pay what they have forfeited:
Entreat the Tailor next, if that he can,
To leave his theft and prove an honest man;
If that he think the matter be too hard,
Knock him about the noddle with his yard,
If he be rich and take the same in snuff,
Tell him his substance is but stolen stuff
And that the Iay would hardly brook the weather,
If every Bird should take away her feather.
So having whipt him, let the Priest go shrieue him,
And if he have authority forgive him:
Go warn the Crafts man that he do not lurk
All day at ale-house, and neglect his work,
And then survey the ware of every trade,
For much, I tell thee, is deceitful made,
Which if thou find I charge thee do not friend it,
But call him knave, and bid him go and mend it,
Oh see if thou the Merchant-man canst find,
For heel be gone at turning of the wind,
Bid him keep touch, or tell his worship how
His heart will tremble when the Seas are tough,
Desire him to, if he do travail thither,
Where Conscience is, that he would bring some hither,
Here's little; some will have it; if none will,
He shall gain by it though he keep it still;
If he bring none, 'twere Charity, I think,
To pray some storm might make his vessel sink;
Look in their ships, for I have known deceit
Hath been in both the Owner and the freight,
Yea note them well, & thou shalt find their books
Are ginns for wood-cocks made like tenter-hooks:
Well they are rich, the Merchant wealth obtains
And cares not how, so he increase his gains;
Yet least his wealth may hap to make him proud,
Satyr
I pray thee, tell him this aloud
To make him smart,
that whilst he like a mome,
Plays fast abroad, his wife pla
•
es loose at home;
Nor shall his ill-got mass of wealth hold out
But he or his become a banquerout:
Now to thy rest, tis night; but here approaches
A troupe with torches hurried in their Coaches,
Stay and behold, what are they? I can tell,
Some bound for Shoreditch, or for Clarken-well:
Oh these are they which think that Fornication,
Is but a youthful sportfull recreation:
These to hold out the game, maintain the back
With marrow pies, potato-roots and sack:
And when that Nature hath consumed her part,
Can hold out a Luxurious course by art:
Go stop the horses quickly least thou miss
And tell the Coachmans wanton carriage this,
They of their guide must be advised well,
For they are running down the hill to hell.
Their Venery will soon consume their stocks,
And bring them to repentance with a poxe.
So other crimes committed without light,
Let such reveal as see like Owls by night:
For many men a secret fault can find,
But in apparent rougeries are blind
Or else they will not see; but thou wertst best
Leave whipping and betake thee to thy rest;
If in an Inn it be, before thou sup,
Will that the Tapster call his master up
And bid him kindly, since he gives thee lodging,
To use plain dealing and detest all dodging.
Dissembling's naught, hard rekonings they ar worse
•
Light gains (
they say
) will make a heavy purse.
And let them not (this fault is very rife)
Make any guest familiar with his wife.
For many men (they wear but what they should)
Do make their wives more wantō then they would.
Thereby they gain, their Inns are well frequented
But such ill courses are too late repented;
So school him well and do thy whip refrain,
And send him to his other guests again.
Then thou shalt see the nimble Tapster fly,
Still yalling,
here, anon sir, by and by,
So diligent, till thou thyself acquaint
With his
•
lie tricks thou wilt
•
'take him for a Saint.
But I suppose that they have tane an oth,
Never to
••
ll a pot but half with froth;
And there's an old shift if they leave it not,
There must be something added to the shot.
But wilt thou swagger with him for it? no,
But take him as he is and let him go,
Now for most hostlers if thou hap to try them.
Knaues thou mayest say they are and not belie them,
For they deceive the poor dumb traueling beast,
And for the same deseru'd a ierke at least;
Yet do thou spare them, for there is no doubt,
Some guest will find a time to pay the lout.
Well, having rested and discharged thine host,
I will send thee down, into the country, Post;
For I have bus'nes, no man would believe,
With whom d'ye think? e'ne with the under-Shreeue
Tell him thou heardest (and that's a fault indeed)
That in some causes he is double-feed.
And that moreover he deserves a Portion,
With those that are indicted for extortion.
Yea and for other things as well as that,
Tell him the country terms him he knows what▪
A
•
which if he make light as if he care not,
Whip him in conscience soundly for it, and spare not
Now for our Knights; their much formality,
Hath made them leave their hospitality,
Yet, le
•
t they should be angry say no more,
This age hath made a number of them poor;
And that some toe (or else they are belied)
Have beggar'd their posterity with pride,
And since thou art so near them do not cease
Until thou see our Justices of peace,
There try if thou canst get but so much favor,
To bind the Country to the good behavior,
And tell them how thou hast informed been,
That they have granted Warrants upon spleen;
Are partial, and have over-swayed by might
The poor man's cause that's innocent and right:
If this thou find be true, thou hast permission;
To lash, or put them out of the Commission;
The Cunstable if he were bid, I wiss,
Be good in's office, 'twere not much amiss:
For he, they say, a many means may have,
If so he be disposed to play the knave;
See how he deals and makes thy message known,
For he hath stocks and whipping-posts of's own:
There are Church-wardens to, I shame to see
How they run into willful perjury,
Partlie in favor and in part for fear,
They winkit at much disorder in a year;
But if thou hap to take them in the lurch,
Ierke them as evil members of the Church;
If they reply, offenders are so friended
Though they present, 'tis little thing amended,
Yet tell them 'tis their duty to discharge,
Their consciences in everything at large;
Which if they do, ill doers shall be shamed
Or the corrupted Visitors be blamed
And prithee tell the B. Chancellor,
That thou art sent to be his counselor:
And will him if he mean not to be stripped,
And like a school boy once again be whipt,
His worship would not so bad minded be,
To pervert judgment for a scurvy fee.
Then next go tell the reverent good masters,
Thou and the Clergy needs must fall at wasters:
Faith thou shalt find their Doctorships perhaps,
Disputing of their Surplesses and caps,
About the holy Cross, and Gowne, a Hood,
Or some such matters for the Churches good,
But tell them there are other things to do,
A great deal fitter to be looked into.
And if they please to go their Visitation,
There's weightier matters look for reformation,
Yea say theres many an infirmity,
Which they both may and ought to remedy.
But touch them with remembrance of their place,
And they perhaps will alter then the case,
Then bid those Dunces in our Colleges,
That they provide them good Apologies:
For 'tis reported lately they have borh,
Betooke themselves to Venery and sloth,
And seek not learning only as they should,
But are back friends to many a man that would
'Twere fit they made a public recantation,
And were well whipt before a Congregation.
Sole auing them their wits for to refine,
Thou shalt be bold to look on the Divine;
They say, he's grown more careful of his stock,
His profits and his tithes then of his flock:
Now if thou find report hath not belied him,
With a respect unto his Calling chide him,
I had almost forgot our civil Doctors;
I pray thee warn them and their lazy Proctors,
They would not use to make so many pauses,
Before they do determine poor men's causes,
And let them not suppose their fees are small,
Since they at last will get the Devil and all,
There be Court Barrons many in the way,
Thus mayest thou to the Guardians of them say,
Their policy in raising fines and rents,
Hath put poor men beside their Tenements:
And tell them, let them answer if they can,
Their false Court-roles hath undone many a man;
Say thou hast seen what to their place belonged
And knowest, ofttimes both Lord & tenāts wronged
Yet spare thy whip; for why? the people's curse,
Already hath prepared them a worse,
So when that thou hast punished vices slaves,
And roundly Ierkit the Country petty-knaves,
Then march we to the Camp to bloody
Nero
And tell the ruftling shuffling Caualero;
He whose hard-heart can brook to rob or spill,
His friend or foe, to ruin, wound or kill,
Tel him, I say, there is a misery
Must follow to revenge his cruelty;
And see that thou the Ruffaines courage quail,
Or lash him till the stock and whipcord fail;
Walk but the round, and thou mayest hap to catch,
The careless soldiers sleeping in their watch,
Or in a march perhaps theile go astray,
But if thou see them in their best array,
And without leave and warrant roming out,
To fetch some desperate booty there about,
Remember them; and for their stout brauado's,
Let them be well preferred with bastinadoes,
Then bid the Captains in their Garrisons,
Not lay to paune their rich Caparisons,
Nor come upon the score til they are forced,
To be disarmd for payment, or vnhorsit,
Nor keep the soldiers hire, least they be fain,
To make an insurrection or complain,
For that indeed proves oftentimes the cause,
They do so much transgress the Martial laws;
Yea tell him 'tis a scandal to be drunk
And drown their valor, or maintain a Punk;
Then if he mend not for to blot his fame,
In steed of honor whip him for it with shame,
Then lastly there are self-conceited wits,
Whose stomachs naught but their own humor fits,
Detractors, Critticks; who en'e at the best,
Do bite with envy or else snarl at least,
And in thy progress if discerned thou be,
'It is out of question they will snap at thee,
To spite them then the way's not to out-brawl them,
But say thou car'st not, & that lash will gaule them:
Now Satyr leave me to myself alone,
Thou hast thy message and thou mayest be gone,
Whip any that shall offer to withstand thee,
In executing that which I command thee;
And yet so, ho, ho, ho, come back again,
Be sure that thou do understand me plain:
First note; I from my Scourge do here except,
The Guard by whom the kingdoms peace is kept
The virtuous Peers: Alas! I nothing grutch them,
And on my blessiing see thou do not touch them:
And if in all our offices theres any;
That is an honest man amongst so many;
Him did I ever mean that thou shouldst spare,
Because I know that such a one is rare;
Physic and Law I honor both (God bless it)
With every virtuous man that doth profess it,
I do not aim at such as they, nor when
I flout our Gallants, mean I Gentlemen,
Such worthy Britain's as maintained be,
According to their fashion and degree:
No, those I love; and what can I less do,
Since I of them am well-beloved to;
To blame all Merchants never was my will,
Nor do I think all Trades-men's work is ill;
My meaning must not so be understood,
For the last shoes I had were very good;
Yea and so far am I from such a thought,
Thou shouldst against the virtuous do ought,
That if thou but an honest Tapster see,
Tell him I wish we might acquainted be;
And I will that Hostler love which in amends,
Will use my horse well, that we may be friends;
And to be brief good Satyr understand
That thou mayest not mistake what I command:
'It is not my meaning neither do I like,
That thou at this time shouldst in special strike,
Because my hatred might appear as then,
Not to the vice, but rather to the men;
Which is not so, for though some malice me
with everyone am I in charity;
And if that thou do ever come to sight,
And bring thy yet concealed charge to light▪
I wish it might be took as 'twas intended:
And then no virtuous man will be offended:
But if that any man do think amiss,
Upon my life that party guilty is;
And therefore lash him, so get thee out of door
Come what come will, I will call thee back no more:
So, now he's gone the way that I direct him,
I wonder how the world will now respect him,
If that she marvel why he was not bolder,
Perhaps he may be when that he is older;
He hath too smooth a chin, a look too mild,
A token that he is not wholly wild;
But may I reach the years of other men,
If that this loose world be not mended then,
I will send a Satyr rougher then a Bear
That shall not chide and whip, but scartch & tear.
And so I will teach him he shall be too strong,
For all your
Paris-garden
dogs to wrong.
This Satyr hath a scourge, (but it wants weight,
Your Spanish whips were worse in eighty-eight,)
That shall not only make them howl for pain,
But touse them, till they hold their peace again:
Now if the world, frown upon me for it,
Shall I be sorry? No, 'twil mend my sport;
But what if I myself should hap to stray,
Out of my bounds into my Satyrs way?
Why then; and that's as much as I need do,
I give him leave to come and lash me toe.
So now my Muse a resting time requires,
For she's or' wearied and her Spirit tires.
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
FINIS.
Certain Epigrammes to the
Kings most excellent Majesty,
the Queen, the Prince, the Princesse,
and other Noble and Honorable Personages,
and friends to whom the Author
gave any of his books.
To the Kings Majesty.
EPIGRAM. 1.
LOe here
•
read
Sou'reign
and great
Britons
King
First to thy view I have presumed to bring,
These my
Essaies;
On which but ge
•
lie look,
I do not make thee Patron of m
•
book:
For 'tis not sit
•
ur
Faiths-Desender
(still)
Take the protection of each trifling quill;
No; yet because thy wisdom able is,
Of all things to make use; I g
•
ue thee this:
The
Picture
of a Beast in
Human
shape,
'It is neither
Monkey,
nor
Baboone,
nor
Ape,
Though near Conditioned; I have not sought it brought it
In
Afric
Deserts; neither have I
Out of
Ignota terra:
those wild lands,
Beyond the farthest Magalanick strands
Yield not the like; the Fiend lives in this Il
And I mu
•
'd that you spied not all this while
That Man-like
Monster.
But (alas) I saw,
The look of Majesty kept him in awe;
He will not, for he dares not before thee
Shew what (indeed) he uses for to be;
But in thy presence he is meek, demure,
Deuout, chaste, honest, innocent, and pure:
Seeming an
Angel,
free from thought of ill,
And therefore thou must needs so think him still.
But for because thy Sovereign place denies,
The sight of what is viewed by meaner eyes:
This I have brought thee, with much care and pain,
'Twas like to have been forced back again:
So loath the world was, that thou shouldest view,
The Portrature that I have drawn so true;
Yea yet, (I fear) she finds her self so gal'd,
That some will study how to haueit recalled;
But tis too late; for now my Muse doth trust,
When thou hast seenit thou wilt approve what's just.
And if I may but once perceive, or hear,
That this sounds pleasing in thy kingly ear,
I will make my Muse for to describe him fuller,
And paint him forth in a more lively cullour:
Yea I will to the worlds great shame unfold,
That which is known, but never yet was told;
Mean while great King a happy Monar
•
h reign,
In spite of Rome, the Devil, Hel, and Spain.
Another to his Majesty.
EPIGR. 2.
AS he that feeds on no worse meat then
Quails,
And with choice dainties pleaseth Appetite:
Will never have great list to gnaw his nails,
Or in a course thin diet take delight,
So thou great
King
that still dost overlook,
The learned works, that are most deep, most rare▪
Canst not perhaps these my rude
Satyrs
brook:
Thou dost not for such sharp fang'd Critticks care:
Oh do not yet thyself so much estrange,
From wonted courtesy to others shown,
A Country dish doth often serve for change,
And something here is worthy to be known.
Sharpe sauce gives sweetest meat a better taste;
And though that this to many bitter be,
Thou no such sickness in thy stomach hast,
And therefore 'twill be pleasing unto thee:
What though I neither flater, fawn, nor sooth,
My honest plainness shall more truly praise thee,
Then those that in
Court language
filed smooth,
Strive unbelieving
Tropheis
for to raise thee,
My loyal heart cannot so well impart,
The love it bears your
Majesty
as other
•
s:
The want of
Time, Encouragement
and Art,
My purpose in the
Embryo
still smothers.
Obscurity, Grosse-Fates,
and want of
Means,
Would have made
Rome's
great
Maro
harshly sing▪
But if once
Caesar
to his music leans,
His tunes through all the world will sweetly ring▪
And why are English wits so perfect grown?
But for because thy kingly hand peruses,
Their well tuned
Poems;
and hath bounty shown,
Yea it is thou giust light unto their Muses.
Oh! had I such a
Star
for
Pole
to mine,
I'd reach a strain should ravish all the
Nine.
To the Queens Majesty
EPIGR. 3.
DAughter, Wife, Sister, 'Mother to 'In Posse. a King▪
And Empresse of the North, enrich your
Name;
Yet do you chastity and wisdom bring,
Bounty, and courtesy to make up true fame.
Which
•
ince (fair
Queen
) my
Muse
hath understood,
She's bold into your presence to intrude,
Assured, honest meanings that are good,
Shall find acceptance there, though they seem rud
•
,
Look and hehold the
Vanities
of men,
Their
Misery,
their
Weakness, and their Pride,
Daigne to survey this book (I say) and then,
When you have each particular espi'de:
Think with yourself, how highly blest you be,
For to enjoy a Prince that both knows how,
To keep himself, from such fell
Passion
free,
And make so many mad-wild creatures bow,
Indeed here's
Vices
tablet plainly made,
Not veiled over, or obscurely drawn;
It is in a color which shall never fade,
That men may blush, on such a hag to fawn▪
But if your
Grace
will favor what I sing,
Though
Virtue
be in durance I will erpreeue her
That now despised
Nimph
to honor bring,
Set all her hidden beauties forth; and give her
So sweet a look, and such a deft attire,
Men shall grow love-sick and burn with desire.
To CHARLES Prince of Wales.
EPIG. 4.
SEE here fair
Of-spring
of the royal
Stem,
What all the world almost is subject to;
Behold it so, thou truly mayest contemn,
And from thy heart abhor what others do,
Now is the fit and only time to season,
That young, rare-understanding breast of thine
With sacred
precepts, good advise,
and
reason;
But there's no doubt thou wilt to good incline,
Inheritance, great Prince, will make it thine:
And were
Mans
nature, yet more prone to fall,
Soe to be borne, and so taught, helps all.
To the Princesse.
EPIG. 5.
SWeet
Princesse;
though my Muse sings not the glories,
Of fair aduenterous Knights or Ladies loves:
Though here be no
Encomiastick
stor
•
es,
That tender hearts, or gentle Spirits moves,
Yet in an honest homelie Rustic strain,
She shows the Creature (such may you nere know)
Forgive her though she be severe, or plain,
Truth
that may warrant it commanded so.
Yea view it over with belief; but than,
I am afraid you will abhor a man.
And yet you need not; All deserve not blame,
For that great
Prince
that woos for to be yours
If that his worth but equalize his fame,
Is free from any
Sat
•
r
here of ours.
Nay they shall praise him; for though they have whips
To make the wicked their offenses rue,
And dare to scourge the greatest when he trips,
Virtue
shall still be certain of her due.
But for your sake; (if that you entertain him,)
Oh would he were (a man) as I could fain him
Yet sweet
Elizabeth:
that happy
Name,
If we lost nothing else by loosing thee;
So dear to
Eng
•
and
is, we are to blame
If without tears and sighs we parted be;
But if thou must make blest another Clime;
Remember
Our;
and for that; though I use,
A crabbed subject and a Churlish Rime,
Daine but to be the Mistress of my
Muse;
And I will change
Theames,
and in a lofty style,
Keep thee alive forever, in this
I will.
To the Lord's of his Majesty's most honorable
Priuy Counsel.
EPIGR. 6.
MOst Honor'd Lord's;
I here present this book,
To your grave censures, not to show my
Art:
Nere did you on so rude a matter look,
Yet tis the token of an honest heart,
I did it not to please, nor flatter any,
Nor have I made it for the thirst of gain:
For I am sure it will not humor many,
And I expect much hatred for my pain.
Here something you may see that now requires,
Your care and providence to haueit amended:
That's the main point to which my
Muse
aspires,
And whereto I have all my labor tended:
It may be there be some out of their hate,
Will mis-interpret what is plainly meant;
Or tax me as too saucy with the
State,
In hope to make me for the
Truth
be
•
hent,
Yet know
Great Lord's,
I do acknowledge here,
It is your
wisdoms
that next God maintains,
This Kingdoms good; And from my heart I bear
•
A reverent respect unto your pains.
I do not, as such fain would have it seem,
Presume to teach your wisdoms what is best,
I do not my own knowledge so esteem,
Vile self conceit I from my heart detest.
But for because I know the percing'st eye,
Can never into all abuses see;
And since the greatest in Authority,
May not behold some-time so much as we:
What therefore I have thought to be amiss
And worth amending I have told it here:
I know your Honors will be pleased in this,
Though some (it may be) cannot rage forbear.
But if there's any take this writing badly,
Had it told all, it would have vext him madly.
To Henry Earl of Southhampton.
EPIGR. 7
SOuth-hampton;
since thy
Province
brought me forth
•
And on those pleasant mountains I yet keep
•
ought to be no stranger to thy worth,
Nor let thy
Virtues
in oblivion sleep.
Nor will I; if my fortunes give me time:
Mean while read this, and see what others be;
•
f thou canst likit, and will but grace my
R
•
me,
•
will so blaze thy
Hampshire
springs and thee,
Thy
Arle, Test, Stowre,
and
Auon
shall share
Fame,
Either with
Humber, Seuerne, Trent
or
Thame.
To William Earl of Penbrooke.
EPIG. 8.
THou whom respect of kin makes not unjust,
True Noble Spirit free from hate or guile;
•
hou whom thy
Prince
hath for thy care and trust,
••
acit for to keep the entrance of this I will,
•
e here th' abuses of these wicked
Times,
•
have exposed them open to thy view:
•
hy judgment is not blinded with like crimes,
〈◊〉
therefore mayest perceive that all is true.
•
Takeit, though I seem a stranger, yet I know thee;
•
nd for thy virtues
Penbrooke,
this I owe thee.
To the Lord Lisle, Lord Chamberlain
to the Queen.
EPIGRAM. 9.
BEing a
Sidney
and so near allied,
To him whose matchless rare immortal pen
Procur'd of Fame to have him deifide,
And live forever in the hearts of men:
The love my soul hath ever borne that name,
Would certainly persuade me for your sake;
In honest service to adventure blame,
Or any open dangers undertake,
Yet shall not that your titles, nor your place,
Your honors, nor your might, nor all you have,
Cause me to flatter for reward or grace▪
Fortune shall never make my mind a slave,
But seeing that your
Virtue
shines apparent,
And honorable acts do speak your praise:
Since
Good Report
hath given forth her warrant,
Which none so much as by himself gain-says,
That (and naught else but that) compels my
Muse,
To sing your
worth
and to present her
Owne,
If this imperfect issue you'le peruse,
I will make her in a better forne be known,
And teach her, that is now so rude and plain,
To soar a pitch above the common strain,
To the Lady Mary Wroth.
EPIGR. 10.
MAdame, to call you
best,
or the
most fair,
The
Vertu'st
and the wisest in our days:
Is now not commendations worth a hair,
For that's become to be each hus-wifes praise.
There's no degree, below
Superlatiue,
Will serve some soothing
Epigrammatists:
The
Worst
they praise, exceeds
Comparatiue,
And
Best
can get no more out of their fists.
But,
Arts sweet Lover;
(unto whom! know,
There is no happy
Muse
this day remains;
That doth not for your
Worth
and bounty owe,
Even himself, his best and sweetest strains.)
Vouchsafe, to let this book your favor find,
And as I hear have
Mans
abuses shown,
I will with like just, and uncorrupted mind,
So make your true unfeigned
Virtues
known,
While others false praise, shall in one's mouth be,
All shall commend you, in the high'st degree.
To Sir Thomas Ridgeway, Knight Barronet,
Treasurer of Ireland.
EPIGR. 11.
SIR, you first gracit and gratifi'd my
Muse,
Which nere durst try til then what she could do
That which I did unto myself was news,
A matter I was little us'd unto:
Had you those first endeavors not approou'd,
I should forever more have silence kept;
But now your good encouragement hath moou'd
And rous'd my Spirits, that before time slept;
For which I vowed a gift that should be better:
Accept this for it, and ile be still your debtor.
Here you shall see the
Images
of men,
More savage then the wildest
Irish kerne:
Abuses whipt and stripped, and whipt agen,
I know your Judgment can the
Truth
discern,
Now so you will think well of this my Rime,
I'ue such a mind yet to
Saint Patrickes
I will,
That if my
Fate
and
Fortunes
give me time,
I hope for to reuisit you a while,
And make those sparks of honor to flame high
That rakit up in obliuions cinders lie.
To his Father.
EPIGR. 12.
OThers may glory that their Fathers hands
Have scrapt together mighty sums of gold
Boast in the circuit of new purchased lands,
Or herds of cattle more then can be told.
God give them joy; their wealth I will nere envy,
For you have gotten me a greater store,
And though I have not their prosperity,
In my conceit I am not half so poor.
You learned me with a little to content me,
Shew'd how to bridle passion in some measure;
And through your means I have a
Talent
lent me,
Which I more value then all
Indies
treasure;
For when the all-most boundless
patrimonies,
Are wasted; those by which our great ones trust
To be eterniz'd: when their
Ceremonies
Shall be forgotten, and their toombes be dust;
Then to the glory of your future line,
Your own and my friends sacred memory,
This little, poor, despised,
wealth
of mine,
Shall raise a
Trophy
of eternity,
Which fretting
envy,
nor consuming
time,
Shall ere abolish or one whit offend:
A toplesse
Statue
that to stars shall clime,
Far greater then your Art shall comprehend:
But I must needs confess tis true, I yet
Reape little profit in the eyes of men:
My Tallent yields small outward benefit,
Yet I will not leave it for the world agen,
Thoughit bring no gain that you by artful sleight
Can measure out the earth in part or whole;
Sound out the Centers depth, and take the height,
Either of th' Artick, or Antartick pole:
Yet tis your pleasure, it contentment brings,
And so my Muse is my content and joy,
I would not miss her to be ranckt with Kings,
How ever some account it is a toy,
But having then (and by your means) obtained▪
So rich a
patrimony
for my share:
For which with links of love I am ever chaind,
What duties fitting for such bounties are?
Moreover
Nature
brought me in your debt,
And still I owe you for your cares and fears:
Your pains and charges I do not forget
Beside the interest of many years:
What way is there to make requital for it?
Much I shall leave unpaid do what I can:
Should I be then unthankfull? I abhor it,
The Will may serve when Power wants in man:
This book I give you then, here you shall find
Somewhat to countervail your former cost;
It is a little
Index
of my mind;
Time spent in reading it, will not be lost▪
Accept it and when I have to my might,
Paid all I can to you; if powers divine
Shall so much in my happi
•
es delight,
To make you Grandsire to a son of mine:
Look what remains and may by right be due▪
I will pay it him as 'twas receiud from you.
Your loving Son.
George Wither.
To his mother.
EPIG. 13.
VNgrateful is the child that can forget,
The Mothers many pains, her cares, her fears,
And therefore though I cannot pay the debt,
Due for the smallest drop of your kind tears;
This Book I for acknowledgement do give you,
Wherein you may perceive my heart▪ my mind;
Let never false report of me more grieve you,
And you shall sure no just occasion find,
Love made you apt to fear those slanders true,
Which in my absence were but lately sown:
It was a motherly distrust in you,
But those that raisd them are false villains known
For though I must confess I am indeed,
The vilest to myself that lives this time,
Yet to the world ward I'ue tane such heed,
Theres none can spot me with a heinous crime.
This I am forct to speak, you best know why,
Wherer's that man living that dare say I lie.
To his dear friend Master
Thomas Cranly.
EPIGR. 14.
BRother, for so I call thee, not because
Thou wert my Fathers, or my Mothers son,
Nor consanguinity, nor wedlock laws,
Could such a kindred twixt us have begun,
We are not of one blood, nor yet name neither,
Nor sworn in brotherhood with ale house quarts
We never were so much as drunk together,
Twas no such slight acquaintance ioynd our harts
But a long knowledge with much trial did it
(Which for to choose a friend are good directions,)
And though we loved both well at first, both hid it,
Till 'twas discovered by a like affections.
Since which, thou hast ore-gone me far in showing
The Office of a friend; doit still and spare not,
Lo here's a
Memorandum
for what's owing;
But know for all thy kind respect I care not,
Unless thou wilt show how I may service do thee,
Then I will swear I am beholding to thee.
To his loving friend, and Cousen-German,
M. WILLIAM
WITHER.
EPIGR. 15.
IF that the
Standerds
of the house bewray,
What
Fortunes
to the owners may betide:
Or if their Destinies, as some men say,
Be in the names of any signifi'd;
It is so in thine for that fair antique
shield,
Borne by thy Predecessors long ago,
Depainted with a clear pure
Arg
•
nt
field,
The innocence of thy line did show.
Three sable Crescents with a Cheueron gul'de
Tel's that black
fates
obscured our houses light;
Because the
Planet
that our fortunes ruled,
Lost her own luster and was darkened quite:
And as indeed our adversaries say;
The very name of
Wither
shows decay.
But yet despair not, keep thy white vnstain'd,
And then it skills not what thy
Crescents
be
What though the
Moon
be now increasit, now wain'd
Learn thence to know thy life's inconstancy,
Be careful as thou hitherto hast been,
To shun th' abuses
Man
is taxit for here,
And then thy soul, that's now eclipsed with sin,
When
Moon
and
Sun
are darkened shall look clear
And what soer'e thy English name may threat,
The
a
Haruests son
the
Greeks
entitle thee,
Ere thou shalt want, thy
a
H
•
re will bring thee meat,
And, to kill care, her self thy make-sport be,
Yea yet (though
Enuies
mists do make them dull)
I hope to see the waned
Orbes
at full.
For the better vndersta
••
ing of this Epigram, note
that his Arms are in a field argent a Cheuron, Gules
betwixt three crescents sable, his name accord
•
ng to
the Greeks is
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
, and his Crest is a Hare with
three
•
wheat ears in her mouth.
To his School-master, Master
John Greaues.
EPIGR. 16.
I Fever I do wish I may be rich,
(As oft perhaps such ilde breath I spend;)
I do it not for anything so much,
As for to have wherewith to pay my friend.
For trust me, there is nothing grieves me more
Then this; that I should still much kindness take,
And have a Fortune (to my mind) so poor,
That (though I would) amends I cannot make:
Yet for to be as thankful as I may,
Snce my estate no better means affords,
What I in deed receive, I do repaie
In willingness, in thanks and gentle words.
Then though your love doth well deserve to have
Better requitals then are in my power;
Knowing you will nothing
vltra posse
crave,
Here I have brought you some
Essaies
of our:
You may think much, perhaps, since there's so many
Learn'd
Graduates
that have your pupils been;
I who am none, and more unfit then any,
Should first presume in public to be seen:
But you do know those horses in the teeme,
That with their work are ablest to go through,
Seldom so forward as blind
Bayard
seem,
(Or give so many twitches to the plough)
And so though they may better; their intent
Is not, perhaps, for to be fools is print.
To the captious Reader.
WHat thou mayest say or think, it is no matte
But if thou busily imagine here,
Since most of these are mighty, that I flatter;
Know, sacred Justice is to me so dear,
Did not their
Virtues
in my thoughts thus ra
••
there
To get an
Empire
by them I'd not praise the
••
FINIS.