Natures Embassie Or, The Wilde-mans Measvres: Danced naked by twelve Satyres, with sundry others continued in the next Section [by Richard Brathwait] |
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THE FOVRTH SATYRE.
[OF VAINEGLORIE.]
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 | Natures Embassie |  |
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THE FOVRTH SATYRE. [OF VAINEGLORIE.]
Thou
happie Crœsus in thy heapes of gold,
Erect thy selfe a God vpon thy throne,
Let it be framed of a purer mold,
Then of the Pumice, or the marble stone:
Let it be honor'd euen in Crœsus name,
Since golden Crœsus did erect the same.
Erect thy selfe a God vpon thy throne,
Let it be framed of a purer mold,
Then of the Pumice, or the marble stone:
Let it be honor'd euen in Crœsus name,
Since golden Crœsus did erect the same.
Wilt thou indeed, be honour'd for a god,
And with the starres aray thy Princely head?
Be sure ere long to feele an iron rod:
To crush thee downe, and thy accursed seede.
For if thou do denie thy God his right,
He will depriue thy power, abridge thy might.
And with the starres aray thy Princely head?
Be sure ere long to feele an iron rod:
To crush thee downe, and thy accursed seede.
For if thou do denie thy God his right,
He will depriue thy power, abridge thy might.
Art thou a crauling worme, a feeble creature,
And yet dost thinke thy selfe a god on earth?
Canst thou so easily transforme thy nature:
Chang'd to immortall, from a mortall birth?
Poore simple gull, a cockhorse for this god,
No god but man, whose sinnes deserue Gods rod.
And yet dost thinke thy selfe a god on earth?
Canst thou so easily transforme thy nature:
Chang'd to immortall, from a mortall birth?
Poore simple gull, a cockhorse for this god,
No god but man, whose sinnes deserue Gods rod.
Star-staring earthling, puff'd with insolence,
Conceipted of thy selfe without desert,
Comparing with the Deuine excellence,
For which thy follie, thou shalt feele the smart;
Do not thinke God will suffer thee to raigne,
That sleights his workes, and takes his name in vaine.
Conceipted of thy selfe without desert,
Comparing with the Deuine excellence,
For which thy follie, thou shalt feele the smart;
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That sleights his workes, and takes his name in vaine.
And as for Crœsus, if he liue for aye,
Then will I thinke he is a god indeed:
But he ere long shall haue a dying day,
And be inclosed in an earthly weede.
Therefore fond Crœsus, thinke but of thy gold,
As rusticke people of the vilest mold.
Then will I thinke he is a god indeed:
But he ere long shall haue a dying day,
And be inclosed in an earthly weede.
Therefore fond Crœsus, thinke but of thy gold,
As rusticke people of the vilest mold.
Yet thou mayst
vse it Crœsus, to thy good,
So thou repose no confidence therein,
So thou abuse it not, it is allow'd,
Abuse, not vse, is Author of the sinne.
Be not deceiu'd through any false pretence,
To hoord vp coine, and hurt thy conscience.
So thou repose no confidence therein,
So thou abuse it not, it is allow'd,
Abuse, not vse, is Author of the sinne.
Be not deceiu'd through any false pretence,
To hoord vp coine, and hurt thy conscience.
This is a simple traine, a net for fooles,
Not able to deceiue the wiser men.
Fishes be sooner catcht, in glistring pooles,
Then in a troubled creuise, marsh or fen,
But wisest fishes, neuer will appeare,
Where they perceiue the smallest cause of feare.
Not able to deceiue the wiser men.
Fishes be sooner catcht, in glistring pooles,
Then in a troubled creuise, marsh or fen,
But wisest fishes, neuer will appeare,
Where they perceiue the smallest cause of feare.
Thus is the forme of wisedome well explaned,
Euen in a Christall glasse most eminent,
Wherein our distinct natures are contained,
As in a Table aptly pertinent,
How that bewitch'd we are in seeming good,
And that prooues poyson which we tooke for food.
Euen in a Christall glasse most eminent,
Wherein our distinct natures are contained,
As in a Table aptly pertinent,
How that bewitch'd we are in seeming good,
And that prooues poyson which we tooke for food.
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This is my Satyre, Crœsus which I send thee,
To th' end thou mayst admonish'd be of this;
I hope my Satyre will in time amend thee,
And draw thy mind from earth-opinion'd blisse.
Wherefore farewell, and if thou wilt be blessed,
Flie from this rust, by it thy mind's oppressed.
To th' end thou mayst admonish'd be of this;
I hope my Satyre will in time amend thee,
And draw thy mind from earth-opinion'd blisse.
Wherefore farewell, and if thou wilt be blessed,
Flie from this rust, by it thy mind's oppressed.
| Natures Embassie | |