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English Puritan & Reformed

Abuses Stripped and Whipped

George Wither (1588-1667) · 73,486 words · 327 min

The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A15623.0001.001

Project Note

This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.

The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.

This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.

Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.

However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.

This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.

Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org

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.

Valete George Wither.

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.

Thine G. W.

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.