University of Virginia Library

1. My thankes to those that haue paid.

You worthy Worthies, of that liberall Tribe,
Who freely gaue your words, or did subscribe:
And were not itch'd with the vain-glorious worme,
To write and lye, but promise and performe,
Black Swans of Britaine, I protest you are,
And seeme (to me) each one a Blazing Starre;
For this inconstant Age so few affoords
Of men, whose deeds do counterpoise their words,
That finding one, me thinkes I see a wonder,
More then Decembers Fruit, or Winters Thunder;
Ingratitude, I hold a vice so vile,
That I could ne'r endure't a breathing while:
And therefore cre I'l proue a thanklesse Iade,
Time in his course shall runne quite retrograde;
Yea, euery thing shall hate his proper kinde,
Before I'l harbour an ingratefull minde:
And still I vow to quit you in some part,
With my best wishes, and a thankfull heart.
So much to you, my Muse hath sung or said,
Whose louing bounties hath the Sculler paid.

2. Those that would pay if they could.

And as for you that would pay if you could,
I thank you, though you do not as you should,
You promis'd faire, and wrote as free as any,
But Time hath altered since, the case with many;
Your moneyes, like low Tides, are eb'd too low,
And when, 'tis lowest 'twill begin to flow.
To seek a breech from breechlesse men 'twere vain,
And fruitlesse labour would requite my paine:
It were no Charity (as I suppose)
To bid one wipe his nose, that wants a nose;
And sure my Conscience would be lesse then little,
T'enrich my selfe, by robbing of the Spittle:
No, honest friends (to end this vaine dispute)
Your barren states may spring, & bring forth fruite;
Your wills are good, and whilst I keepe your bills,
In stead of Payment I accept good wills;
On hope and expectation I will feede,
And take your good endeauours for the deede:
Praying that Crosses in your mindes may cease,
And Crosses in your purses may increase.

3. Those that are hard for me to finde, and being found, were better lost.

Another sort of debtors are behinde,
Some I know not, and some I cannot finde:
And some of them lie here and there, by spirts,
Shifting their lodgings oftner then their shirts.
Perchance I heare where one of these men lies,
And in the morning vp betimes I rise,
And finde in Shorditch where he lodg'd a night;
But he to Westminster hath tane his flight.
Some two dayes after thither doe I trot,
And finde his lodging, but yet finde him not,
For he the night before (as people tell)
Hath tane a Chamber about Clarken-well.
Thither goe I, and make a priuy search,
Whilst he's in Southwark, neer S. George his Church.
A pox vpon him, all this while thinke I,
Shall I ne'r finde out where my Youth doth lye?
And hauing sought him many a weary bout,
At last, perhaps I finde his chamber out:
But then the Gentleman is fast in bed,
And rest hath seas'd vpon his running head:
He hath tooke cold with going late by water,
Or sate vp late at Ace, Deuse, Trey, and Cater,
That with a Sinke of fifty pieces price,
He sleepes till noone before his Worship rise;
At last he wakes; his man informes him strait,
That I at dore doe on his pleasure wait;
Perhaps I am requested to come neere,
And drinke a cup of either ale or beere,
Whilst sucking English fire, and Indian vapor,
At last I greet him with my bill of Paper:
Well Iohn (quoth he) this hand I know is mine,
But I this day doe purpose to goe dine
At the halfe Moone in Milk-street, prethee come,
And there wo'l drinke, and pay this petty Summe.
I take my leaue, he in his sleeue doth laugh,
Whilst I beleeue him, (like Iohn hold my staffe)
I in the Tauerne stay, and wait his pleasure,
And he to keepe his word can finde no leasure.
Thus many a street by me recrost and crost,
I in and out, and to and fro, am tost,
And spend my time and coyne to finde one out,
Which hauing found, rewards me with a flout.
In this base fashion, or such like as this,
To me their scuruy daily dealing is:
As one's in's study, t'other's deepe in talke,
Another's in his Garden gone to walke:
One's in the Barbers suddes, and cannot see,
Till chin and chaps are made a Roman T:
And for his making thus a Gull of me,
I wish his cut may be the Græcian P.
These men can kisse their claws, with Iack, how is't?
And take and shake me kindely by the fist,
And put me off with dilatory cogges,
And sweare and lye, worse then a sort of dogs,
Protesting they are glad I am return'd,
When they'd be gladder I were hang'd or burn'd.
Some of their pockets are oft stor'd with chinke,
Which they had rather waste on drabs, dice, drinke,
Then a small petty summe to me to pay,
Although I meet them euery other day;
For which to ease my mind to their disgrace,
I must (perforce) in Print proclaime them base;
And if they pay me not (vnto their shames)
I'l print their trades their dwellings & their names,
That boyes shall hisse them as they walke along,
Whilst they shal stink, & do their breeches wrong:
Pay then, delay not, but with speed disburse,
Or if you will, try but who'l haue the worse.

4. Those that will and doe daily pay me in drinke and smoake.

A fourth crue I must drop from out my quill,
Are some that haue not paid, yet say they will:
And their remembrance giues my muddy mood,
More ioy then of those that will ne'r be good.
These fellowes my sharpe Muse shall lash but soft,
Because I meet them to their charges oft,
Where at the Tauerne (with free frollicke hearts)
They welcome me with pottles, pints, and quarts;
And they (at times) will spend like honest men,
Twelue shillings, rather then pay fiue or ten.
These are Right Gentlemen, who beare a minde
To spend, and be as liberall as the winde:
But yet their bounty (when they come to pay)
Is bountifull in nothing but delay.
These I doe seeke from place to place,
These make me not to run the wildgoose chase;
These doe from day to day not put me off,
And in the end reward me with a scoffe.
And for their kindnesse, let them take their leasure,
To pay or not pay, let them vse their pleasure.
Let them no worser then they are, still proue:
Their pow'rs may chance out-do me, not their loue;
I meet them to my perill, and their cost,
And so in time there's little will be lost.
Yet the old prouerbe I would haue them know,
The horse may starue the whilst the grasse doth grow.

5. Those that are dead.

A fift sort (God be with them) they are dead,
And euery one my quittance vnder's head:
To aske them coyne, I know they haue it not,
And where nought is, there's nothing to be got,
I'l neuer wrong them with inuectiue lines,
Nor trouble their good heires, or their as-signes.
And some of them, their liues losse to me were,
In a large measure of true sorrow deere;
As one braue Lawyer, whose true honest spirit
Doth with the blest celestiall soules inherit,
He whose graue wisedome gain'd preeminence,
To grace and fauour with his gracious Prince;
Adorn'd with learning, lou'd, approu'd, admir'd,
He, my true friend, too soone to dust retir'd.
Besides, a number of my worthy friends
(To my great losse) death brought vnto their ends:
Rest, gentle spirits, rest, with Eternizing,
And may your corpes haue all a ioyfull rising:
There's many liuing, euery day I see,
Who are more dead then you in pay to me.

6. Those that are fled.

A sixt, with tongues glib, like the tailes of Eeles,
Hath shew'd this land and me foule paires of heeles.
To Ireland, Belgia, Germany, and France,
They are retyr'd to seeke some better chance.
'Twas their vnhappy inauspicious Fate,
The Counters, or King Luds vnlucky Gate;
Bonds being broke, the stones in euery street,
They durst not tread on, lest they burnt their feet;
Smoke by the Pipe, and Ginger by the race,
They lou'd with Ale, but neuer lou'd the Mace.
And these mens honesties are like their states,
At pittious, wofull, and at low-priz'd rates;
For partly they did know when they did take
My bookes, they could no satisfaction make.
And honesty this document doth teach,
That man shall neuer striue aboue his reach,
Yet haue they reacht, and ouer-reacht me still,
To do themselues no good, and me much ill.
But farewell, friends, if you againe doe come,
And pay me either all, or none, or some:
I looke for none, and therefore still delay me,
You onely doe deceiue me, if you pay me.
Yet that deceit from you were but my due,
But I looke ne'r to be deceiu'd by you.
Your stockes are poore, your Creditors are store,
Which God increase, and decrease, I implore.

7. Those that are as farre from honesty, as a Turke is from true Religion.

Seuenthly, and last's a worthy worthlesse crue,
Such as heau'n hates, & hell on earth doth spew,
And God renounce, & dam them, are their praiers,
Yet some of these sweet youths are good mens heirs:
But vp most tenderly they haue bin brought,
And all their breeding better fed then taught:
And now their liues float in damnations streame,
To stab, drab, kil, swil, teare, sweare stare, blaspheme:
In imitation worse then diuels Apes,
Or Incubusses thrust in humane shapes:
As bladders full of others wind is blowne,
So selfe-conceit doth puffe them of their owne:
They deeme their wit all other men surpasses,
And other men esteem them witlesse asses.
These puckfoyst cockbrain'd coxcombs, shallow pated,
Are things that by their Taylors are created;
For they before were simple shapelesse wormes,
Vntill their makers lick'd them into formes.
Tis ignorant Idolatry most base,
To worship Sattin Satan, or gold lace,
T'adore a veluet varlet, whose repute
Stinks odious, but for his perfumed suite.
If one of these to serue some Lord doth get,
His first taske is to sweare himselfe in debt:
And hauing pawn'd his soule to Hell for oathes,
He pawns those othes for newfound fashiō clothes.
His carkasse cased in this borrowed case,
Imagines he doth me exceeding grace:
If when I meet him, he bestowes a nod,
Then must I thinke me highly blest of God.
Perhaps (though for a Woodcocke I repute him,)
I vaile my bonnet to him, and salute him:
But sure my salutation is as euill,
As Infidels that doe adore the Diuell.
For they doe worship Satan for no good,
Which they expect from his infernall mood,
But for they know he's author of all ill,
And o'r them hath a power to spoyle and kill:
They therefore doe adore him in the durt,
Not hoping any good, but fearing hurt.
So I do seeme these mimmicks to respect,
Not, that from them I any good expect;
(For I from dogs dung can extract pure honey,
As soone as from these widgeons get my money)
But I (in courtesie) to them haue bowde,
Because they shall not say, I am growne proud;
And sure if harmelesse true humility,
May spring from money, wanting pouerty,
I haue of debtors such a stinking store,
Will make me humble, for they'l keepe me poore.
And though no wiser then flat fooles they be,
A good lucke on them, they're too wise for me;
They with a courtly tricke, or a flim flam,
Do nod at me, whilst I the noddy am:
One part of Gentry they will ne'r forget,
And that is, that they ne'r will pay their debt.
To take, and to receiue, they hold it fit,
But to requite, or to restore's no wit.
Then let them take and keepe, but knocks, and pox,
And all diseases from Pandora's box.
And which of them sayes that I raue or raile,
Let him but pay, and bid me kisse his T.
But sure the Diuell hath taught them many a tricke,
Beyond the numbring of Arithmeticke.
I meet one, thinking for my due to speake,
He with euasions doth my purpose breake,
And asks what newes I heare from France or Spain,
Or where I was in the last showre of raine;
Or when the Court remooues, or what's a clocke,
Or where's the wind (or some such windy mocke)
With such fine scimble, scemble, spitter spattar,
As puts me cleane besides the money-matter?
Thus with poor mungrell shifts, with what, where, when?
I am abused by these things, like men,
And some of them doe glory in my want,
They being Romists, I a Protestant:
Their Apostaticall iniunction saith,
To keepe their faith with me, is breach of faith:
For 'tis a Maxim of such Catholicks,
'Tis Meritorious to plague Hereticks;
Since it is so, pray pay me but my due,
And I will loue the Crosse as well as you.
And this much further I would haue you know,
My shame is more to aske, then yours to owe:
I begge of no man, 'tis my owne I craue,
Nor doe I seeke it but of them that haue,
There's no man was inforc'd against his will,
To giue his word, or signe vnto my bill.
And is't not shame, nay, more then shame to heare,
That I should be return'd aboue a yeare,
And many Rich-mens words, and bils haue past,
And tooke of me both bookes, both first and last,
Whilst twice or thrice a weeke, in euery street,
I meet those men, and not my mony meet.
Were they not able me amends to make,
My conscience then would sooner giue then take:
But most of those I meane, are full purs'd Hindes,
Being beggerly in nothing but their mindes:
Yet sure me thinkes, if they would doe me right,
Their mindes should be as free to pay, as write.
Neer threescore pounds, the books I'm sure did cost,
Which they haue had from me, and I thinke lost:
And had not these mens tongues so forward bin,
Ere I my painefull iourney did begin,
I could haue had good men in meaner Rayment,
That long ere this, had made me better payment:
I made my iourney for no other ends,
But to get money, and to try my friends:
And not a friend I had, for worth or wit
Did take my booke, or past his word, or writ:
But I (with thankefulnesse) still vnderstood
They tooke, in hope to giue, and doe me good.
They tooke a booke worth 12. pence, & were bound
To giue a Crowne, an Angell, or a pound.
A Noble, piece, or halfe piece, what they list,
They past their words, or freely set their fist.
Thus got I sixteene hundred hands and fifty,
Which summe I did suppose was somwhat thrifty;
And now my youths, with shifts, & tricks, & cauils,
Aboue seuen hundred, play the sharking Iauils.
I haue performed what I vndertooke.
And that they should keepe touch with me I looke:
Foure thousand, and fiue hundred bookes I gaue
To many an honest man, and many a knaue;
Which books, and my expence to giue them out,
(A long yeere seeking this confused rout)
I'm sure it cost me seuenscore pounds and more,
With some suspition that I went on score.
Besides, aboue a thousand miles I went,
And (though no mony) yet much time I spent;
Taking excessiue labour, and great paines,
In heat, cold, wet, and dry, with feet and braines:
With tedious toyle, making my heart-string sake,
In hope I should content both giue, and take,
And in requitall now, for all my paine,
I giue content still, and get none againe.
None, did I say? I'l call that word agen,
I meet with some that pay now and then,
But such a toyle I haue those men to seeke,
And finde (perhaps) 2, 3, or 4. a weeke,
That too too oft, my losings gettings be,
To spend 5. crownes in gathering in of three.
And thus much to the world I dare auow,
That my oft walkes to get my money now,
With my expences, seeking of the same,
Returning many a night home, tyr'd and lame,
Meeting some thirty, forty in a day,
That sees me, knowes me, owes me, yet none pay.
Vs'd and abus'd thus, both in towne and Court,
It makes me thinke my Scottish walke a sport:
I muse of what stuffe these men framed be,
Most of them seeme Mockado vnto me,
Some are Stand-further off, for they endeauer,
Neuer to see me, or to pay me neuer.
When first I saw them, they appeared Rash,
And now their promises are worse then trash;
No Taffaty more changeable then they,
In nothing constant, but no debts to pay.
And therefore let them take it as they will,
I'l canuase them a little with my quill.
To all the world I humbly doe appeale,
And let it iudge, if well these men doe deale,
Or whether for their basenesse, 'twere not fitter,
That I should vse more gall, and write more bitter?
I wrot this booke before, but for this end,
To warne them, and their faults to reprehend;
But if this warning will not serue the turne,
I sweare by sweet Satyricke Nash his vrne,
On euery pissing post, their names I'l place,
Whilst they past shame, shall shame to shew their face,
I'l hale fell Nemesis, from Dis his den,
To ayde and guide my sharpe reuenging pen;
That fifty Popes Buls neuer shall roare lowder,
Nor fourscore Cannons whē men fire their powder.
And sure, my wronged Muse could lines indite,
So full of horror, terror, and affright,
That they (like Cain) confessing their estates,
But little better then base Reprobates;
And hang themselues in their despairing moods,
But that I'l not be guilty of their bloods.
No, let such fellowes know, that Time shall try
My mercie's greater then their honesty:
Nor shall my verse affoord them no such fauour,
To make them saue the hangman so much labour,
They are contented still to patch and palter,
And I (with patience) wish them each a halter,
They are well pleas'd to be perfidious fellowes,
And my reuenge bequeathes them to the gallowes:
For I would haue them thus much vnderstand,
Words are but winde, 'tis money that buyes land:
Words buy no food, or clothes to giue content,
Bare words will neuer pay my Landlord rent.
And those that can pay Coyne, and pay but words,
My minde, a mischiefe to them all affoords,
I count them like old shooes, past all mens mending,
And therefore may the Gallowes be their ending:
If some of them would but ten houres spare
From drinking, drabbing, and superfluous fare,
From smoaking English fire, and heathen stinke,
The most of them might well pay me my chinke.
There's no wound deeper then a pen can giue,
It makes men liuing dead, and dead men liue;
It can raise honour drowned in the sea,
And blaze it forth in glory, Cap. a. pea.
Why, it can seale the battlements of Heauen,
And stellifie men 'mongst the Planets seuen:
It can make mizers, peasants, knaues and fooles,
The scorn of goodnesse, and the diuels close stooles.
Forgot had bin the thrice three Worthies names,
If thrice three Muses had not writ their fames:
And if it not with flatt'ry be infected,
Good is by it extold, and bad corrected.
Let Iudgement iudge them, what mad men are those
That dare against a pen themselues oppose,
Which (when it likes) can turn them al to loathing,
To any thing, to nothing, worse then nothing.
Yet e'r I went, these men to write did like,
And vs'd a pen more nimbly then a pike;
And writ their names (as I suppos'd) more willing,
Then valiant Soldiers with their Pikes are drilling.
But this experience, by these men I finde,
Their words are like their payment, all but winde;
But what winde 'tis, is quickly vnderstood,
It is an euill winde, blowes no man good:
Or else they make it to the world appeare,
That writing is good cheape, and paying deare.
No paper bill of mine had edge vpon it,
Till they their hands and names had written on it;
And if their iudgements be not ouer-seene,
They would not feare, the edge is not so keene.
Some thousands, and some hundreds by the yeare
Are worth, yet they their piece or halfe piece feare;
They on their owne bils are afraid to enter,
And I vpon their pieces dare to venter:
But whoso at the bill hath better skill,
Giue me the piece, and let him take the bill.
I haue met some that odiously haue lied,
Who to deceiue me, haue their names denied;
And yet they haue good honest Christian names,
As Ioshua, Richard, Robert, Iohn and Iames:
To cheat me with base Inhumanity,
They haue denide their Christianity,
A halfe piece, or a Crowne, or such a summe,
Hath forc'd them falsifie their Christendome:
Denying good, ill names with them agree,
And they that haue ill names, halfe hanged be,
And sure I thinke, my losse would be but small,
Is for a quittance they were hang'd vp all.
Of such I am past hope, and they past grace,
And hope and grace both past's, a wretched case,
It may be that for my offences past,
God hath vpon me this disturbance cast:
If it be so, I thanke his Name therefore,
Confessing I deserue ten times much more;
But as the Diuell is author of all ill,
So ill for ill, on th'ill he worketh still;
Himselfe, his seruants, daily lye and lurke,
Mans cares on earth, or paines in hell to worke.
See how the case then with my debtors stands:
They take the diuels office out of's hands;
Tormenting me on earth, for passed euils,
And for the diuell, doth vex me worse then diuels.
In troth 'tis pitty, proper men they seeme,
And those that know them not, would neuer deeme
That one of them would basely seeme to meddle,
To be the diuels hangman, or his beadle.
For shame, for honesty, for both, for either,
For my deserts desertlesse, or for neither
Discharge your selues frō me, you know wherefore,
And neuer serue or helpe the Diuell more.
I haue heard some that Lawyers doe condem,
But I still must, and will speake well of them;
Though neuer in my life they had of me
Clarkes, Counsellors, or yet Atturneyes fee.
Yet at my backe returne, they all concurr'd,
And payd me what was due, and ne'r demurr'd.
Some Counter Serieants, when I came agen,
(Against their nature) dealt like honest men.
By wondrous accident perchance one may
Grope out a needle in a load of hay:
And though a white Crow be exceeding rare,
A blind man may (by fortune) catch a Hare,
So may a Serieant haue some honest tricks,
If too much knauery doth not ouermix.
Newgate (the Vniuersity of stealing)
Did deale with me with vpright honest dealing.
My debtors all (for ought that I can see)
Will still remaine true debtors vnto me;
For if to paying once they should incline,
They would not then be debtors long of mine.
But this report I feare, they still will haue,
To be true debtors euen to their graue.
I know there's many worthy proiects done,
The which more credit, and more coyne haue won,
And 'tis a shame for those (I dare maintaine)
That breake their words, & not requite their paine:
I speake to such, if any such there be,
If there be none, would there were none for me.
But Mr Barnard Caluard too well knowes
The fruits of windy promise, and faire showes,
With great expence, and perill, and much paine
He rode by land, and crost the raging Maine
In fifteene houres, he did ride and goe,
From Southwarke neere to Callice, to and fro.
When he vnto his cost, and detriment,
Shewed vs a memorable president,
In finding out a speedy worthy way,
For newes 'twixt France and London in one day;
And yet this well deseruing Gentleman,
Is cheated of his Coyne, do what he can,
From him they could both goods and money take,
But to him they'l no satisfaction make,
Their promises were fiue, or ten for one,
And their performances are few, or none.
Therefore it is some comfort vnto me,
When such a man of ranke, and note, as he,
Instead of Coyne is paid with promises,
My being cheated grieues me much the lesse;
Of worthy Gentlemen, I could name more,
That haue past dangers both on seas and shore,
And on good hopes did venture out their gold,
To some that will no faith, or promise hold,
But basely do detaine, and keepe backe all
Th' expected profit, and the principall;
Yet this one comfort may expell our crosse,
Though we endure, time, coyne, and labors losse:
Yet their abuse doth make our fame more great,
'Tis better to be cheated, then to cheat.
Those that are dead, or fled, or out of Towne:
Such as I know not, nor to them am knowne,
Those that will pay (of which ther's some small number)
And those that smile to put me to this cumber,
In all they are eight hundred and some od,
But when they'l pay me's onely knowne to God.
Some crownes, some pounds, some nobles, some a royall,
Some good, some naught, some worse, most bad in triall.
I, like a boy that shooting with a bow
Hath lost his shaft where weedes and bushes grow;
Who hauing search'd, and rak'd, and scrap'd, & tost
To finde his arrow that he late hath lost:
At last a crotchet comes into his braine,
To stand at his first shooting place againe;
Then shoots, and lets another arrow flye,
Neere as he thinkes his other shaft may lye:
Thus ventring, he perhaps findes both or one,
The worst is, if he lose both, he findes none.
So I that haue of bookes so many giuen,
To this compared Exigent am driuen:
To shoote this Pamphlet, and to ease my minde,
To lose more yet, or something lost to finde.
As many brookes, foords, showres of rain & springs,
Vnto the Thames their often tribute brings,
These subiects paying, not their stocks decrease,
Yet by those payments, Thames doth still increase:
So I that haue of debtors such a swarme,
Good they might do me, and themselues no harm
Inuectiue lines, or words, I write nor say
To none but those that can, and will not pay:
And whoso payes with good, or with ill will,
Is freed from out the compasse of my quill.
They must not take me for a Stupid asse,
That I (vnfeeling) will let these things passe.
If they beare mindes to wrong me, let them know,
I haue a tongue and pen, my wrongs to show;
And be he ne'r so briske, or neat, or trim,
That bids a pish for me, a tush for him;
To me they're rotten trees, with beauteous rhinds,
Fayre formed caskets of deformed minds.
Or like dispersed flocks of scattered sheepe,
That will no pasture, or decorum keepe:
Some wildly skipping into vnknowne grounds.
Stray into forraine and forbidden bounds;
Where some throgh want, some throgh excess haue got
The scab, the worme, the murraine, or the rot.
But whilst they wander guidelesse, vncontrolde,
I'l doe my best to bring them to my folde;
And seeing sheepefold hurdles here are scant,
I am inforced to supply that want
With rayling: and therefore mine owne to win,
Like rotten forlorne sheepe, I'l rayle them in.