A Satire
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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.
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Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
A SATYRE: DEDICATED TO HIS MOST EXCELLENT MAIESTIE. BY GEORGE WITHER, Gentleman.
Rebus in aduersis Crescit.
LONDON: Printed for GEORGE NORTON, and are to be sold at the sign of the red-Bull, near Temple-bar. 1614.
THE SATYRE TO THE MEERE COVRTIERS.
SIrs, I do know your minds, you look for fees,
For more respect then needs, for caps and knees:
But be content, I have not for you now,
Nor will I have at all to do with you.
For though I seem oppressed, and you suppos
•
I must be fain to crouch to
Virtues
foes;
Yet know, your favors I do now slight more
In this distress
•
, then ere I did before
•
.
Here to my
Liege
a message I must tell,
If you will let me pass, yo
•
shall do well;
If you de
•
i
•
admittance, why then know,
I mean to have it where you will or no.
Your formal wisdoms which hath never been
In ought yet (save in venting fashions) seen,
And deemes that man wa
•
borne to no intent
But to be trained in Apish complement,
Doth now (perhaps) suppose me indiscreet,
And such vn-used messages unmeet.
But what of that? Shall I go suit my matter
Unto your wits, that have but wit to flatter?
Shall I, of your opinions so much prize
To loose my will, to have
you
think me wise,
Who never yet to any liking had,
Unless he were a
Knaue,
a
Fool,
or
mad?
You
Mushromes
know, so much I weigh your powers
I neither value you, nor what is yours.
Nay, though my crosses had me quite out-worn,
Spirit enough
Id'e
find your spite to scorn:
Of which resolu'd, to further my aduenter,
Unto my
KING,
without your leaves I enter.
TO THE HONEST COVRTIERS.
BVt
You,
whose only worth doth color give
To
them,
that they do worthy seem to live,
Kind
Gentlemen;
your aid I crave, to bring
A
SATYRE
to the presence of his King:
A show of rudeness doth my forehead Arm,
Yet you may trust me, I will do no harm:
He that hath sent me, is a subject true,
And one whose love (I know) is much to you:
But now he lies bound to a narrow scope,
Almost beyond the
Cape of all good hope,
Long hath he sought to free himself, but fails:
And therefore seeing nothing else prevails,
Me,
to acquaint my
Sovereign,
here he sends,
As one despayring of all other friends.
I do presume that you will favor show me,
Now that a Messenger from him you know me:
For many thousands that his face nere knew
Blame his Accusers, and his
Fortune
rue:
And by the help which your good word may d
••
.
He hopes for pity from his
Sovereign
to.
Then in
his
presence with your favors grace me,
And there's no
Vice
so great, shall dare out-face me.
TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAIESTY.
A Satire.
Quid tu, sipe • eo?
WHat once the POET said, I may avow,
It is a hard thing not to write Satires
now,
Since what we speak, abuse reigns so in all,
Spight of our hearts will be
Satirical.
Let it not therefore now be deem
•
d strange,
My vnsmooth'd lines their rudeness do not change,
Nor be distasteful to my graciou
•
King,
Though in the
Cage,
my old harsh notes I sing,
And rudely make a
Satire
here unfold
What others would in neater terms have told.
And why? my friends and means in
Court
are scant,
Knowledge of curious Phrase, and form, I want.
I cannot bearit to run myself in debt,
To hire the
Groome,
to bid the
Page
entreat
Some
favored follower
; to vouchsafe his word,
To get me a cold comfort from his
Lord:
I cannot sooth, though it my life might save,
Each
favorite,
nor crouch to every
Knaue:
I cannot brook delays as some men do,
With scoffs, and scorns, and takit in kindness to.
For ere I'd bind myself for some slight grace
To one that hath no more worth then his
place
;
Orb
•
•
base mean
free myself from trouble,
I rather would e
••
ure my penance double:
Cause to be forced to what my mind disdains
Is worse to me then
tortures, racks,
and
chains:
And therefore unto
thee
I only fly,
To whom there needs no mean but
Honesty:
To
thee
that lou'st not
Parasite
nor
Minio
•
Should e're I speak, possess thee with opinion.
To
thee
that doest what thou wilt undertake▪
For love of
Justice,
not the
persons
sake.
To
thee
that kno'wst how vain all fair shows be,
That flow not from the hearts sincerity.
And canst▪ though shadowed in the simplest veil,
Discerne both
Love
and
Truth,
and where they fail:
To
thee
do I appeal, in whom heau'n knows,
I next to God my confidence repose.
For can it be, thy grace should ever shine,
And not enlighten such a cause as mine?
Can my hopes (fixed in thee great KING) be dead?
Or thou those
Satires
hate thy
Forrests
bred?
Where shall my second hopes he founded then,
If ever I have heart to hope agen?
Can I suppose a favor may be got
In any place when thy
Co
•
rt
yeel
••
it not?
Or that I may obtain it in the land,
When I shall be denied it at thy hand?
A
•
d if I might, should I so fond on it be,
To takit of other
•
when I missit of thee?
Or if I did, can I have comfort by it,
When I shall t
•
ink my
So
••
raig
•
e
did deny it?
No, were I sure, I to thy hate were borne,
The love of half the world beside I'd scorn.
But why should I thy favor here distrust,
That have a
cause
so known, and known so just?
Which not alone my inward comfort doubles,
But all supposed me wronged that hear my troubles.
Nay, though my fault were Real, I believe,
Thou art so Royal that thou wouldst forgive.
For well I know thy sacred
M
•
iestie,
Hath ever been admired for Clemency.
And at thy gentlene
•
the world hath wondered,
For making Sunshine, where thou mightest have thundered.
Yea, thou in mercy life to them didst give
That could not be content to see
thee
live.
And can I think that
thou
wilt make me, then,
The most unhappy of all other men?
Or le
•
thy loyal subject, against reason,
Be punished more for
Love,
then some for
Treason?
No, thou didst never yet thy glory stain,
With an injustice to the meanest
Swain.
'It is not thy will I am wronged, nor dost thou know
If I have suffered injuries or no.
For if I have not heard false
Rumours
fly,
Th'a
•
t graced me with the style of
Honesty.
And if it were so (as the world thinks 'twas)
I cannot see how it should come to pass
That
thou,
from whose free
tongue
proceedeth naught
Which is not correspondent with thy thought.
Those thoughts to, being framed in
Reasons
mould,
Should speak that once, which should not ever hold.
But passing it as an uncertainty,
I humbly beg thee, by that
Majesty,
Whose sacred
Glory
strikes a loving-fear
Into the hearts of all, to whom 'tis dear:
To deign me so much favor, without merit,
As read this plaint, of a distempred spirit:
And think, unless I saw some hideous storm
Too great to be indu
•
'd by such a
worm,
I had not thus presumed unto a
King,
W
•
th
Aesop's Flye
▪ to seek an
Eagles
wing.
But know I am he that entered once the list,
Gainst all the world to play the
Satirist:
Twas I, that made my measures rough, and rude,
Daunce armed with whips, amid'st the multitude,
And vnappalled with my charmed
Scrowles,
Teaz'
•
angry
Monsters
in their lurking holes:
I'ue plaid with
Wasps,
and
Hornets
without fears,
Till they grew mad, and swarmd about my ears.
Iu'e done it, and me thinks 'tis such brave sport,
I may be stung, but n
•
re be sorry for it.
For all my grief is, that I was so sparing▪
And had no more init worth the name of daring.
He that will tax these
Times,
must be more bitter,
Tart lines of
Vinegar,
and
Gall
are fitter▪
My fingers, and my spirits are benumbed,
My Inke runs forth too smooth, tis too much gum'd
Id'e have my
Pen
so paint it, where it traces,
Each accent should draw blood into their faces.
And make them, when their
villainies
•
re blaz
•
d.
Shudder,
and
startle,
as men half amaz
•
d,
For fear my
verse
should make so loud a din,
Heaven hearing, might rain vengeance on their sin.
Oh no
•
for s
•
ch a strain
•
would
Art
could teach it,
Though life my spirits I consumed to reach it.
Id'e learn my
Muse
so brave a course to fly,
Men should admire the power of
Poesie.
And those that dared her greatness to resist,
Quake, even at naming of a
Satirist.
But when hi
•
sco
•
rging numbers flowed with wonder,
Should cry
God bless us,
as they did at thunder.
Alas! my lines came from me too too dully,
They did not fill a
Satires
mouth up fully.
Hot blood, and youth, enraged with passion
•
store,
Taught me to reach a
strain
nere touched before.
But it was coldly done, I thoroughly chid not:
And somewhat there is yet to do, I did not.
More soundly could my
scourge
have yerked many,
Which I omit not, cause I feared any.
For
want of action, discontentments rage,
Base
dis-respect of Virtue
(in this age)
With other things, unto myself a wrong,
Made me so fearless, in my careless long:
That had not reason within compass won me,
I had told
Truth
enough to have undo
•
e me:
(Nay, have already, if that her Divine
And vn
•
eene power, can do no more then mine.)
For though fore-seeing wariness was good,
I framed my style, unto a milder mood,
And clogging her thigh-towering wing
•
with mire,
Made her half earth, that was before all fire.
Then being (as you saw) disguised in show,
Clad like a
Satire,
brought her forth to view:
Hoping, (her outside being mis-esteemed)
She might have passed, but for what she seemed:
Yet
some,
whose
Comments
jump not with my mind
In that low phrase, a higher reach woul
•
find.
And out of their deep judgment seem to know,
What 'tis uncertain if I meant or no:
Aiming thereby, out of some private hate,
To work my shame, or overthrow my state.
For amongst many wrongs my
foe
doth do me,
And diverse imputations, laid unto me,
Deceiued in his aim, he doth mis-conster
That which I have enstil'd a
Man-like Monster,
To mean some private person in the state,
Whose worth, I think to wrong out of my hate;
Vpbraiding
me
I from my word do start,
Either for want of a
good Ground,
or
Heart,
Cause from his expectation I do vary
In the denying of his
Commentary,
Whereas 'tis known I meant
Abuse
the while,
Not thinking any
one
could be so vile,
To merit all those
Epithites
of shame.
How ever many do deserve much blame.
But say I grant that I had an intent
To have it so (as he interprets) meant,
And let my gracious
Liege,
suppose there were
One whom the
State
may have some cause to fear,
Or think there were a man (and great in
Court
)
That had more faults then I could well report,
Suppose I knew him, and had gone about
By some particular marks to paint him out,
That
he
best knowing his own faults might see,
He was the
Man
I would should noted be:
Imagine now such doings in this
Age,
And that
this man
so pointed at should rage,
Call me in question, and by his much threatening,
By long imprisonment, and ill entreating,
Urge a
Confession:
wert not a mad part
For me to tell
him
what lay in my heart?
Do not I know a great man's
Power
and
Might,
I
•
spite of
Innocence,
can smother
Right.
Colour his
Villanies,
to get esteem,
And make the
Honest man
the
Villaine
seem?
And that the truth I told should in conclusion▪
For want of
Power,
and
Friends,
be my confusion?
I know it, and the world doth know 'tis true;
Yet
•
I protest, if such a man I knew,
That might my
Country
prejudice, or
Thee,
Were he the greatest, or the proudest
Hoe
That breathes this day: if so it might be found,
That any good to
either
might redound,
So far I will be (though
Fate
against me run)
From starting off, from that I have begun,
I vn-appalled dare in such a case
Rip up his foulest
Crimes
before his face,
Though for my
Labor
I were sure to drop
Into the mouth of
Ruin
without hope.
But such strange far-fetched meanings they have sought,
As I was never privy to in thought:
And that unto particulars would tie
Which I intended universally.
Whereat
some,
with displeasure over-gone,
Those I scarce dreamed of, saw, or thought upon▪
Maugre those caveats, on my
Satires
brow,
Their honest, and just passage disallow.
And on their heads so many censures rake,
That spite of
me,
themselves they will guilty make.
Nor isit enough to swage their discontent,
To say
I am
(or to be)
Innocent.
For as, when once the
Lyon
made decree▪
No
horned
beast should nigh his presence be,
That, on whose fore-head only did appear,
A
bunch of flesh,
or but some
tuft of hair,
Was even as far in danger as the rest,
If he but said, it was a
horned beast:
So, there be now, who think in that their power,
Is of much force, or greater far then our;
It is enough to prove a guilt in me▪
Because (mistaking)
they
so thinkit to be.
Yet'tis my comfort, they are not so high▪
But they must stoop to
thee
and
equity.
And this I know, though prickit, they storm agen
The world doth deem them never the better men.
To stir in filth, makes not the stench the less,
Nor doth
Truth
fear the frown of
Mightinesse.
Because those numbers she doth deign to grace,
Men may suppress a while, but never to deface.
I wonder, and 'tis wondered at by many,
My harmless lines should br
•
ed distaste in any:
So much, that whereas most
good men
approve,
My labor to be woe
•
thy thanks, and love;
I as a
•
illaine,
and my
Countries foe,
Should be imprisoned, and so strictly to,
That not alone my liberty is barred,
But the resort of friends (which is more hard▪).
And whilst each wanton, or loose
Rimers
pen,
With oily words, sleekes over the sins of men,
V
•
iling his wits to every
Puppets
beck,
Which e're I will do, I will joy to break my neck.
(I say) while such as they in every place
Can find protection, patronage and grace;
If any look on me, 'tis bu
•
a skaunce,
Or if I get a favor, 'tis by chance.
I must protect myself: poor
Truth
and
I,
Can have scarce one speak for our
Honesty.
Then whereas they, can gold, and gifts attain,
Malitious
Hate,
and
Envy
is my gain.
And not alone have here my
freedom
lost,
Whereby my
best hope
's likely to be crossed:
But have been put to more charge in one day
Then all my
Patrons
bounties yet will pay.
What I have done was not for thirst of
gain,
Or out of hope
preferments
to attain.
Since to contemn them, would more profit me,
Then all the
glories
in the world that be:
Yet they are helps to
Virtue,
us'd aright,
And when they wanting be, she wants her might.
For Eagles minds never f
•
t a Ravens fea
•
her,
To dare, and to be able, suit together.
But what isit I have done so worthy bla
•
e,
That some so eagerly pursue my fame?
Vouchsafe to viewit with thine own eyes, and try
(Save want of
Art
) what fault thou canst espy.
I have not sought to scandalize the State,
Nor sown sedition, nor made public bate.
I have not aim'd at any good man's fame,
Nor taxed (directly) any one by name.
I am not he that am grown discontent
With the Religion, or the Government.
I meant no Ceremonies to protect,
Nor do
•
I fa
•
our any new-sprung sect;
But to my
Satires
gave this only warrant,
To apprehend and punish
Vice
apparent.
Who aiming in particular at none,
In general upbraided everyone:
That each (vnshamed of himself) might view
That in himself, which no man dares to show.
And hath this
Age
bred up neat
Vice
so tenderly
She cannot brook it to be touched so sl
•
nderly?
Will she not bide my gentle
Satires
bites?
Harme take her then,
what makes she in their sights?
If with impatience she my
Whip-cord
feel,
How had she raged at my lash of
Steele?
But am I called in question for her c
•
use,
Isit
Vice
that these afflictions on me draws?
And need I now thus to Apologize▪
Only because I scourged
villainies?
Must I be fain to give a reason why,
And how I dare, allow of
Honesty?
Whilst that each fl
•
ering
Parasite
is bold
Thy Royal brow undaunted to behold:
And every
Temporizer
strike
•
a string,
That's music for the hearing of a King.
Shall not
he
reach out, to obtain as much,
Who dares more for thee then a hundred such?
Heaven grant her
patience,
my
Muse
takesit so badly,
I fear sheel'
•
loose her wits, for she raues madly.
Yet let not my
dread Sovereign
too much blame h
•
r
Whose awful presenc
•
, now hath made her tam
•
r.
For if there be no
Fly
but hath her spleen,
Nor a poor
Pismire,
but will wreak her teene;
How shall I then, that have both spleen, and gall,
Being unjustly d
•
alt with, bear with all?
I yet with
patience
take what I have borne,
And all the worlds ensuing hate can
scorn:
But 'twere in
me
as much stupidity,
Not to have feeling of an injury,
As it were weakness not to brook it well.
What others therefore think I cannot tell;
But he that's less then
mad,
is more then
Man,
Who sees when he hath done the best he can
To keep within the bounds of
Innocence:
Sought to discharge his due to
God
and
Prince:
That he, whilst
villainies
unreproved go,
Scoffing, to see him over-taken so,
Should have his
good intendments
misconce
••
'd,
Be of his
dearest liberty
bereau'd;
And which is worse; without reason why,
Be frowned on by
Authorities
grim eye.
By that great
power
my soul so much doth fear,
She scorns the stearn'st frowns of a mortal
Peer.
But that I
Virtue
love, for her own sake,
It were enough to make me undertake
To speak as much in praise of
Vice
agen,
And practice some to plague these
shames of me
•
,
I mean those my
Ac
•
us
•
rs,
who mistaking
My true conceit
•
, frame some of their own making▪
But if I list, I need not buy so dee
•
e,
The just
revenge
I could bring on them here.
I could frame
measures
in this my just fury,
Should sooner find them guilty then a
Jury:
Whose
•
ords,
like
swords
(tempred with
Art
) should pierce
And hang, and draw, & quarter them in verse.
Or I could rack them on the wings of
Fame,
(And he's half hanged
(they say)
hath an ill name,)
Yea Id'e go near to make these spiteful Elues,
Lyca
•
bes
-like, be glad to hang themselves.
And though this
Age
will not abide to hear
Those faults reprou'd, whom
custom
hath made dear.
Y
•
t if I pleased, I could write their
crimes,
And stone them up in walls for after-times:
For theyl'e be glad (perhaps) that shall ensue,
To see some story of their Fathers true.
Or should I smothered be in darkness still,
I might not use the freedom of a quill:
'T would raise up
brauer spirits
then my own,
To make my cause, and this their guilt more known.
Who by that subject should get Love, and Fame,
Unto my foes disgrace, and endless shame:
Those I do mean, whose
Comments
have mis-us'd me,
And to those Peers I honor, have accused me:
Making against
my Innocence
their batteries,
And wronging
them
by their base fl
•
tteries:
But of revenge I am not yet so fain,
To put myself unto that needless pain:
Because I know a greater
power
there is,
That noteth smaller injuries then this;
And being still as just as it is strong,
Apportions due revenge for every wrong.
But why (say some) should his too saucy Rimes,
Thus t
•
xe the wise and great ones of our times?
It su
•
es not with his years to be so bold,
Nor fits it us, by him to be contrould.
I must confess ('
•
is very true indeed)
Such should not of controlling stand in need▪
But blame not me, I saw good
Ver
•
ue
poor,
Desert,
amongst the most, thrust out of door,
Honesty
hated,
Curtesie
banished,
Rich men
excessive,
Poor men
famished:
Coldnesse in
Zeal,
in
Laws
much partiality;
Friendship,
but
Complement,
and vain
Formality.
Art
I perceive contemned, while most advance
(To Offices of worth)
Rich Ig
•
orance.
And those that should our
Lights
and
Teachers
be,
Live (if not worse) as wantonly as we.
Yea I saw
Natur
•
,
from her course run back,
Disorders
grow,
Good orders
go to wrack.
So to increase what all the rest began,
I to this current of confu
•
io
•
ran.
And seeing Age left off the place of guiding,
Thus plaid the saucy wag, and fell to chiding.
Wherein, how ever some (perhaps) may deem,
I am not so much faulty as I seem:
For when the
Elders
wronged
Susannaes
honor,
And none withstood the shame they laid upon her;
A
Child
rose up to stand in her defense,
And spite of wrong, confirmed her innocence:
To show
those must not, that good undertake,
Straine curtsey, who shall doeit, for manners sake.
Nor do I know, whether to me God gave,
A boldness more then many other have,
That I might show the world what shameful blot
Virtue
by her lascivious
Elders
got.
Nor isit a wonder, as some do suppose,
My
Youth
so much corruption can disclose;
Since every day the Sun doth light mine eyes,
I have experience of new villainies:
But it is rath
•
r to be wondered how,
I either can, or dare, be honest now.
And though again there be some others rage▪
That I should dare (so much above mine age)
Thus censure each degree, both young and old,
I see not wherein I am over-bold.
For if I have been plain with
Vice
I care not,
There'
•
naught that I know good, & can, & dare not▪
Only this one thing doth my mind deter,
Even a fear (through ignorance) to err.
But oh knew I, what thou wouldest well approve,
Or might the small'st respect within thee move;
So in the sight of God it might be good,
And with the quiet of my conscience stood,
(As well I know thy true integrity,
Would command nothing against Piety,)
There's naught so dangerous, or full of fear,
That for my
Sovereigns
sake I would not dare.
Which good belief would it did not possess thee;
Provided some just tri
•
ll might re-bless me:
Yea, though a while I did endure the gall
Of thy displeasure, in this loathsome thrall.
For notwithstanding in this
place
I lie
•
y the command of that
Authority,
Of which I have so much respective care,
That in my
own
(and just) defense I fear
To use the free speech that I do intend,
Least
Ignorance,
or
Rashness
should offend.
Yet is my meaning and my thought a
•
free,
From willful wronging of thy
Laws
or
thee
▪
A
•
he to whom thy
Place
or
Person's
dearest,
Or to himself that finds his conscience clearest.
If there be
wrong,
'tis not my making it,
All the offense i
•
some's mistaking it.
And is there any Justice borne of late,
Makes those faults mine, which others perpetrate?
What man could ever any Age yet find
That spent his Spirits in this thankless kind
Showing his meaning, to such words could tie it▪
That none should either wrong▪ or mis-apply it?
Nay, your own
Laws,
which (as you do intend)
In plain'st and most effectual words are pend,
Cannot be framed so well to your intent,
But some there be will err from what you meant.
And yet (alas) must I be tied unto
What never any man before could do?
Must all I speak, or write, so well be done,
That none may pick more meanings thence then one?
Then all the world (I hope) will leave dis-union.
And every man become of one opinion.
But if some may, what care so ere we take
•
Divers constructions of our writings make
The charitable
Reader
should conceive
The best intentions mine, and others leave:
Chiefly in
that,
where I fore-hand protest,
My meaning ever was the honestest.
And if I say so, what is he may know
So much as to affirm it was not so?
Sit other men so near my thought to show it?
Or is my
heart
so open that all know it?
Sure if it were, they would no such things see,
As those whereof some have accused me.
But I am careless howit be understood,
Because the Heavens know my intent was good.
And if it be so, that my too free
Rimes
Do much displease the world, and these bad times;
It is not my fault, for had I been employ'd
In something else, all this had now been void.
Or if the world would but have granted me
Wealth, or Affaires, whereon to busy me,
I now unheard of, peradventure than,
Had been as mute as some rich
Clergy-man.
But they are much deceiu'd that think my mind
Will e're be still, while it can doing find,
Or that unto the world so much it leans,
As to be curtold for default of means.
No, though most be, all
Spirits
are not earth,
Nor suiting with the fortunes of their birth,
My
body
's subject unto many powers,
But my
soul
'
•
free, as is the
Emperors:
And though to curb her in, I oft assay,
She'le break init action spite of dirt and cl
•
y.
And isit not better then, to take this course,
Then f
•
ll to study mischiefs, and do worse?
I say she must have action, and she shall:
For if she will, how can I do withal?
And let those that or'e-busy think me▪ know,
He made me, that knew why he made me so.
And though there's some that say, my thoughts do fly
A pitch beyond my states sufficiency;
My humble mind, I give my
Savior
thank,
Aspires naught yet, above my fortunes rank.
But say it did, wilit not befit a man,
To raise his thoughts as near
Heaven
as he can?
Mu
•
t the
free Spirit
ty'de and curbed be,
A
••
o
•
ding to the bodies poverty?
Or can it ever be so subject to
Base
Change,
to rise and fall, as fortunes do?
Men borne to Noble means and vulgar mind
•
Enioy their wealth, and there's no Law that binds
Such to abate their substance, though their Pa
•
es
Want
Brain,
and they
Worth,
to possess their states▪
So God to some, doth only
great minds
give,
And little other means whereon to live.
What law, or conscience, then shall make thē smother
Their
Spirit,
which is their life, more then other
T'abate their
substance?
since if 'twere confessed,
That a brave mind could ever be suppressed,
Wereit reason any should himself deprive
Of what the whole world hath not power to give?
Since wealth is common, and fools get it to,
When to give spirit's more then
Kings
can do?
I speak not this, because I think there be,
More then the ordinariest gifts in me;
But against those who think I do presume
On more then doth befit me to assume,
Or would have all, whom
Fortune
bars from store,
Make themselves wretched, as she makes them poor.
And cause in outward things she is unkind,
Smother the matchless blessings of their mind:
Whereas (although her favors do forsake them)
Their
minds
are richer then the world can make thē.
Why should a good attempt disgraced seem,
Because the person is of mean esteem?
Virtue's
a chaste Queen, and yet doth not scor
•
e
To be embraced by him that's meanest borne.
She is the prop, that
Majesty's
support,
Yet one whom
Slaues
as well as
Kings
may Court.
She loveth all that bear affection to her,
And yields to any that hath heart to woo her.
So
Vice,
how high so e're she be in place,
Is that which
Groomes
may spit at, in d
•
sgrace.
She is a strumpet, and may be abhor'd,
Yea spu
•
n'd at, in the bosom of a
Lord.
Yet had I spoke her fair, I had b
•
ene free,
As many others of her Lovers be.
If her escapes I had not chanced to tell,
I might have be
•
ne a
villain,
and done well.
Gotten some special favor, and not sat
As now I do, shut up within a
grate.
Or if I could have hapit on some loose strain▪
That might have pleased the wanton readers vain:
Or but claw'd
Pride,
I now had been vnblam'd:
(Or else at least there's some would not have shamed
To plead my cause:) but see my fatal curse,
Sure I was either mad, or somewhat worse:
For I saw
Vices
followers bravely kept,
In
Silks
they walk'
•
, on beds of
Down
they slept
Richly they fed, on d
•
inties evermore,
They had their pleasure, they had all things store,
(Whilst
Virtue
•
egg'd) yea favors had so many,
I knew they brookit not to be touched of any:
Yet could not I, like oath
•
men, be wise,
Nor learn for all this, how to temporize;
But must (with too much honesty made blind)
Vpbraid this loved darling of mankind;
Whereas I might have better thriu'd by feigning,
Or if I could not choose but be complaing,
More safe I might have rail'd on
Virtue
sure,
Because her lovers, and her friends are fewer,
I might have brought some other thing to pass,
Made
Fiddlers
Song
•
, or
Ba
•
lets,
like an Ass.
Or anything almost indeed but this,
Yet since 'tis thus, Im'e glad 'tis
•
o amiss;
Because If I am guilty of a crime,
'It is that, wherein the best of every time,
Hath been found faulty (if they faulty be)
That do reprove
Abuse
and
Villanie.
For what I am taxit, I can examples show,
In such old
Authors
as this s
•
ate alow.
And I would fain once learn a reason why
They can have kinder usage here then I.
I muse men do not now in question call,
Seneca, Horace, Perseus, Iuvenall.
And such as they; Or why did not that Age
In which they lived, put them in a
Cage?
If I should say that men were iuster then,
I should near hand, be made vnsayit agen.
And therefore sure I think I were as good
Leave it to others to be understood;
Yet I as well may speak as deem amiss,
F
•
r such this
Ages
curious cunning is
I scarcely dare to let my heart think ought,
For there be those will seem to know my thought,
Who may out-face me that I think awry,
When there's no witness but my
Conscience
by.
And then I likely am as ill to speed,
As if I spake or did amiss indeed,
Yet l
•
ast those who (perhaps) may malice this
Interpret also these few lines amiss,
Let them that after
thee
shall read or hear,
From a rash censure of my thoughts forbear.
Let them not mold the sense that this contains
According to the forming of their brains,
Or think I dare, or can, here tax those
Peers,
Whose
Worths
their
Honors
to my soul endeares,
(Those by whose loved-feared
Authority
)
I am restrained of my liberty:
For least there yet may be a man so ill,
To haunt my lines with his black
Comment
still,
(In hope my luck again may be so good,
To have my words once rightly understood)
This I protest, that
I do not condemn
Ought as v
•
just that hath been done by them;
For though my honest h
••
rt not guilty be,
Of the lea
•
t thought, that may disparage me,
Yet
•
hen
such men as I,
shall have
such foes,
Accuse me of
such crimes,
to
such as those,
Till I had means my
Innocence
to show,
Their
Justice
could have done no less then so.
Nor have I such a proud-conceited wit,
Or self-opinion of my knowledge yet,
To think it
•
ay not be that I have run
Upon some
Errors
in what I have done,
Worthy this punishment which I endure,
(I say I cannot so myself assure)
For 'tis no wonder if their
Wisedomes
can,
Discouer
Impe
•
fections
in a man
So weak a
•
I▪ (more then himself doth see,
Since my
sight,
dull with
insufficiency,
In men more grave and wiser fa
•
re then I,
Innumerable
Errors
doth espy,
Which they with all their knowledge I will be bold.
Can
•
ot, or will not, in themselves behold)
But ere I will
myself
accuse my
Song,
O
•
keep a
Tongue
shall do my
Heart
that wrong
To say I willingly in what I pe
•
d
Did ought which might a
Goods man's
•
ight offend,
Or with my knowledge did insert one word,
That might disparage a true
Honor'd Lord
▪
Let it be in my mouth a helpless sore,
And never speak to be believed more.
But
man
irresolute is, unconstant, weak,
And doth his purpose oft through frailty break▪
Least therefore I by force hereafter m
•
y
Be brought from this mind, and these words unsay▪
Here to the
world
I do proclaim before,
•
ere my resolution be so poor,
'It is no
•
the
Right,
but
Might
that makes me do it,
Yea naught but
fearful baseness
brings me to it,
Which i
•
I still hate, as I now detest,
Never can come to ha
•
bour in my breast.
Thus my fault then (if they a fault imply)
Is not alone an ill unwillingly,
But also, might I know it, I intend,
Not only to acknowledge, but amend:
Hoping that
thou
wilt not be so severe,
To punish me above all other here.
But for m'intents sake, and my love to
Truth,
Impute my
Errors
to the heat of
Youth
▪
Or rather
Ignorance,
then to my
W
•
ll,
Which sure I am was
good,
what e're be
•
ll,
And like to him now, in whose place thou art,
What e're the resdue be, accept the
Heart.
But I grow tedious, and my love abused
Disturbs my thoughts, and makes my lines confused:
Yet pardon me, and deign a gracious ey
•
On this my rude vnfill'd
Apology.
Let not the bluntnesse of my phrase offend,
Weigh but the
matter
▪ and not how 'tis
pend.
By these abrupt lines in my just defense,
Judge what I might say, for my innocence.
And think I more could speak, that here I spare,
Becau
•
e my power
•
uites not to what I dare.
My vnaff
•
ct
•
d
style
re
•
aynes (you see)
Her old
Frize Cloake
of yo
•
ng
Rusticitie
▪
If others will us
•
nea
•
er tea
•
m
••
, they may,
Ruder I am yet love as well as they.
And
(though if I would smoothit I cannot dooit)
My humble heart I bend beneath thy foot:
While here my Muse her discontent do
•
h sing
To thee her great
Apollo,
and my
King:
Emploring thee by that high sacred
Name,
By
Justice,
by those
powers
that I could name:
By whatsoever may move, entreat
I thee,
To be what thou art unto all, to m
•
.
I fear it not, yet give me leave to pray,
I may have foes whose power doth bear such sway,
If they but say I am guilty of offense,
'Twere vain for me to plead my innocence.
But as the name of God thou bear'st, I trust
Thou imitat'st him to, in being just:
That when the right of
truth
thou comest to scan,
Thoulit not respect the person of the man:
For if thou do, then is my
hope
undone,
The headlong way to ruin I must run.
For while
•
t that they have all the helps which may
Procure their pleasure with my soon decay▪
How is it like that I my peace can win me,
When all the aid I have, comes from with
••
me?
Therefore
(good King)
that makest thy bounty shine
Sometime on those whose worths are small as mine;
Oh save me now from
Enui
••
dangerous s
•
else,
Or make me able, and I will save myself.
Let not the want of that make me a scorn,
To which there are more
Fool
••
then
Wise-men
borne.
Let me not for my
Meannesse
be despi
•
'd,
Nor others
greatness
make th
•
ir words more prized.
For whatsoever my outward
Fate
appears,
My
Soul's
as g
•
od, my
Heart
as great as their
•
.
My love unto my
Country
an
•
to
thee,
As much as his that more would seem to be.
And would this Age allow but means to show it,
Those that misdoubt
•
,
•
hold
•
re long time know it.
Pitty my youth then, and let me not lie
Wasting my time in fruitless misery.
Though I am mean, I may be borne unto
That service which another cannot do.
In vain the little Mouse the Lyon spared not,
She did him pleasure when a greater dared not.
If ought that I have done, do
thee
displease,
Thy misconceiued wrath I will appease:
Or sacrifice my heart; but why should I
Suffer for God knows whom, I know not why?
If that my words through
somes
mist
•
ke offends,
Let them conceive them right, and make amends.
Or were I guilty of offense indeed,
One fault
(they say)
doth but one pardon need.
Yet one I had, and now I want one more:
For once I stood accused for this before.
As I
•
emember I so long agon,
S
•
ng
Thame,
and
Rhy
•
es Epithalamion.
When SHE that from thy Royal self derive
•
,
Those gracious virtues that best
Title
gives.
She
that makes
Rhyne
proud of her excellence,
And me oft mind her here with reverence;
Daign'd in her
great-good nature
to incline
Her gentle ear to such a cause a
•
mine;
And which is more, vouchsafit her word to clear
Me from all dangers (if there any were)
So that I do not now entreat, or sue
For any great boone, or request that's new▪
But only this, (though absent from the Land)
Her former favor still in force might stand:
And that her word (who present was so deer)
Might be as powerful, as when she was here.
Which if I find, and with thy favor may
Have leave to shake my loathed
bands
away,
(As I do hope I shall) and be set free
From all the troubles this hath brought on me,
I will make her
Name
give life unto a
Song,
Whose never-dying note shall last as long
As there is either
River, Groue,
or
Spring,
Or
Down,
for
Sheep,
or
Shepherds Lad
to sing.
Yea, I will teach my
Muse
to touch a strain,
That was nere reachit to yet by any
Swain.
For though that many deem my years vnri
•
e,
Yet I
•
aue learned to tune an Oaten pipe,
Whereon I will try what music I can make me,
(Until
Bellona
•
with her Trump awake me.)
And since the world will not have
Vice
thus shown
•
,
By blazing
Virtue
I will make it known.
Th
•
n if the
Court
will not my lines approve,
I will go unto some
Mountain,
or thick
Groue:
There to my fellow
Shepherds
will I sing,
Tuni
•
g my
Reed,
unto some dancing
Spring,
In such a note, that none should dare to trouble it,
Till th
•
Hill
•
es
ans
•
ere, and th
•
Woods
redouble it.
And peradventure I may then go nere
To speak of something thoulit be pleasd'd to hear:
And that which
those
who now my tunes abhor,
Shall read, and like, and deign to love me for.
But the mean while, oh pass not thi
•
suite by,
Let thy
free hand
sign me my
liberty:
And if my love may move thee more to do,
Good King
consider this my trouble to.
Others have found thy favor in distre
•
se,
Whose love to thee and thine I think was less
And I might fitter for thy
ser
•
ice
live,
On what would not be much for
thee
to give.
And yet I ask it not for that I fear
The outward means of life should fa
••
e me here▪
For though I want to compa
•
se those
good
•
n
•
s
I aim at for my
Country
and my
Friends.
In this
poor state
I can as well content me,
As if that I had
Wealth
and
Honors
lent me;
Nor for my
own sake
do I seek to shun
This
thralldom,
wherein now I seem undone:
For though I prize my
Freedom
more then
Gold,
And use the means to free myself from hold,
Yet with a mind (I hope) vnchang
•
d and free,
Here can I live and play with misery:
Yea in despite of want and slavery,
Laugh at the world in all her bravery,
Here have I learned to make my greatest
Wrong
•
Matter of
Mirth,
and subjects but for
Songs.
Here can I smile to see myself neglected,
And how the mean man's suit is disrespected,
Whilst those that are more rich, and better friended,
Can have twice greater
faults
thrice sooner ended.
All this, yea more, I see and suffer to,
Yet live content, midst discontents I do,
Which whilst I can, it is all one to me,
Whether in
Prison
or
abroad
it be:
For should I still lie here
distrest
and
poor,
It shall not make me breath a sigh the mor
•
;
Since to myself it is indifferent
Where the small remnant of my days be spent,
But for
Thy
sake, my
Countries,
and my
Friends,
For whom more then myself
God
this life lends,
I would not, could I help it, be a scorn,
But l
•
ue (if I might) free, as I was borne:
Or rather for good
Bell-arete's
sake,
Fa
••
e Ver
•••
of
•
hom most account I make,
If I can choose, I will not be deba
•
'd,
In this last action, least
She
be disgraced.
For 'twas the love of her that brought me to
What
Spleene
nor
Envy
could not make me do,
And if her servants be no more regarded,
If enemies of
Vice
be thus rewarded,
And I should also
Virtues
wrongs conceal,
As if none lived to whom she dared appeal:
Will they that do not yet her
worth
approve,
Be ever drawn to entertain her
love,
When they
••
all see hi
•
plagu'd as an
Offender,
Who for the love he bears her, doth commend her?
This may to others more offensi
•
e be,
Then prejudicial any way to me:
For who will his endeavours ever bend
To follow her, whom there is
•
one will friend?
Some I do hope there be that nothing may
From love of
Truth
and
Honesty dismay.
But who will ever seeing my hard
Fortune,
The
remedy
of
Times Abuse
importune?
Who will again when they have smothered me,
Dart to oppose the face of
Villany
?
Whereas he shall not only undertake
A
Combat
with a second
Lernean
Snake,
Whose ever-growing heads when as he crops,
Not only two Springs, for each one he lops,
But also he shall see in midst of danger
•
,
Those he thought
friends
turn
foes,
or at lea
••
stranger
•
.
More I could speak, but sure if this do
•
aile me,
I never shall do ought that will a
•
a
••
e me,
Nor c
•
re to speak again, unless it be
To him that knows how
Heart
and
Words
agre
•
,
No, nor to live when none dares undertake
To speak one word for honest
Virtues
sake.
But let
his will be done,
that best knows what
Will be my
future
good, and what will not.
Hap
well
or
ill,
my spotless
meaning's
fair,
And for
thee,
this shall ever be my prayer,
That thou mayest here enjoy a long-blest Raig
•
e,
And dying, be in Heaven Re-crowned again.
SO now if thou hast daign'd my
Lines
to hear,
There's nothing can befall
me
that I fear:
For if
thou
hast compassion on my trouble,
The
Joy
I shall receive will be made double;
And if I fall, it may some
Glory
be,
That none but
IOVE
himself did ruin me.
Your MAIESTIES most loyal Subject, and yet Prisoner in the Marshals • y. GEO. WYTHER.