University of Virginia Library

The First Book

Epig. 1.

I write of Feare, of Love, of Harme, of Hate,
Of Honour, Magnanimity, of Fate,
Of Courtezans, of Chastity, of Charmes,
Of Policie, of Perfection, and of Arms,
Of Heaven, Earth, and Hell, of Temperance,
Of Prodigallity, of Choice, of Chance,
Of Knaves, of Dolts, Cowards, and Valliant men,
Of Art, and Eloquence, and now and then
Of Kings, and Captaines, Queenes, and Queans, of Schism,
Of Theeves, and Panders, sometimes Aphorism,
Drops from my quill; thus Proteus-like Iv'e dealt,
To please thee (Reader) be thou what thou wilt.

Epig. 2. To my beloved Friend Mr. James Naworth, the best way to better a bad Wife.

Friend, thou art yoakt, and canst not help the thing,
(Thou seest what power there's circled in a Ring)
Better or worse, 'tis in the power of Fate,
And not in man, to alter thy estate:
Therefore take counsell, “It is meritorious,
“In Husbands (sometimes) for to be Uxorious.
Thou sai'st she's clamorous, yea will disimbogue
Too often, and not stick to call thee Rogue.
To strike is barbarous, a better way
Observe; laugh at her, on thy Viol play.
If she will needs in folly be prolix,
Sometimes inform her, that she shames her sex,
“No better way to calme a womans Ire,
“Then to breath water, when she belcheth Fire.
But thou wilt say, can flesh and blood dispence
With such incorrigible impudence?
Know that you are incorporate; but one
Connext, by a Celestiall union,
She's but thy selfe, cast in another mold,
Thou art a Verbalist, if she's a scold.
“Women like Tortoises, are ever wonne,
Throw her upon her back, and all is done.

Epig. 3. To Sir I. C. Knight.

When the Law enjoyn'd your feet
To tread the Labyrinth of the Fleet,
You were clog'd with various sports;
“Bands are but Bracelets, Goales but Courts,
Sea-borne Sturgeon, broad-side Breame,
The Trout that thrives against the streame,
The Carp full laden with her spawne,
The Scarlet Lobster, prick nos'd Prawne,
Oyle-steept Anchovis (from his brine)
Came swimming in red Seas of wine;
The brawny Capon, full egg'd Hen,
The Swan, and Mallard of the Fen,
The costly Plover, mounting Lark,
Furnish't your Table, (like the Arke
Preserv'd Ogiges) whiles I made moane
Or'e smoakie beefe in Whittington.
Never was heard one note to sing,
But droopt, and hung my feeble wing:
But (Sir) your fare my soul abhors,
You fed upon your Creditors.

Epig. 4. Of Proems.

Proems, to Cypresse Trees we may compare,
They'r long, but yet they very fruitlesse are.

Epig. 5. The proofe of Princes.

I wonder Princes should be good,
(When I conceit them flesh and blood)
What change of Pleasure,
What ease, what Treasure,
Can't he Command
And not obtaine, that's Ruler o're a Land?
Who dares enquire
Or thwart's desire,
Who dare begin
To tax his Vice, or call a Sin, a Sin?
Who will not be
(Nay what is he)
Won't fan the fire,
To increase the flames, of his unblown desire?
What sawcy eye
On him dares prie?
What season will
Not wait, his Royall lust for to fulfill?
Then (sure) that Prince,
Can curbe his Sence,
Swaying his Passion,
Is more then Man, and fit to rule a Nation.

Epig. 6. Loving Mirabell.

Mirabell doth her Mate, so dearly love,
That if the least he from her sight do move,
She seemes as one distract, the good man once
Went out, and staid to try her for the nonce,
But when againe return'd, his dearest Wife
(whom he thought lov'd him better then her life)
Was with his friend in bed, and seeing him
She cries, oh husband, you are welcome in,
My deare affection unto you was such,
I thought I could not love your friend too much.

Epig. 7. Absolonisme.

As Absolon, so do the Sectists now,
They mean a Ruine, but pretend a vow.

Epig. 8. Homer.

Homer though blind, yet saw with his Soules eye
The secrets hid, in deep'st Philosophy,
Who while he sang the Gods, deserv'd to be
Himselfe adored, as a Dietie.

Epig. 9. To his unconstant Mistresse.

Satan, no woman, yet a wandring spirit,
Once did hell disinherit
O'th Saylers Trade,
(By strict inquiry made)
When he saw ships saile two waies with one wind,
The Divell himself, loves not a wavering mind.

Epig. 10. To Captaine C. D. on his Periwig.

Sir, this exactly doth with Justice sute,
Your Mistresse quaintly knowes to retribute,
She stole your haire (thanks to your lusts excess)
And gives you hers, though in another dress.

Epig. 11. To Mistresse E. L.

My prettie Protea, thou, without a spell
Canst transform Satan to a Michaell,
Like those Effigies (sometimes) Artists paint,
This side a loathsome Fiend, that side a Saint.
Tis not for love of thee, but least that shame,
Should swallow thy whole sex, I shrowd thy name.

Epig. 12. To James Nevill Esquire.

Beleeve me (Sir) this Town's all on a flame,
London we now, may well Lutetia name,
Perfumes without, but plaisters are within,
(Take heed how with a Citty Dame you sin)
I'le sooner enter a Cole-mine, although
The reaking ventage were damd up, then go
To one of those, they Ætna alwaies beare
Beneath the navell; tremble (Sir) and feare.
“O'tis a fatall object, and a Dire,
“To see Saint Anthony triumph in fire.
You'l say, to whom then would you love professe,
T'a Country Damsell, in a City Dresse.

Epig. 13. The Letanie.

Epig. 14. On Saint Thomas .

Thomas was diffident, the Scripture saith,
Till at his fingers ends he had his Faith.

Epig. 15. To my Friend Theodor Vaux .

It is set down, by Heavens just Decree,
The Child of Riot, must be beggerie.
Take caution (Friend) for “that man spends with shame,
“That with his riches doth consume his name.

Epig. 16. Afflictions Beneficiall.

It is not for our good, in ease to rest,
“Man (like to Cassia) when bruiz'd is best.

Epig. 17. The Incarnation of Iesus Christ our blessed Redeemer, narrated by a Shepherd.

This night
By Cynthias light
A Virgin hath brought forth a sonne,
God, though clad in flesh and bone:
Prince of rest
For ever blest,
A Virgin hath brought forth a Child
Immaculate, and undefil'd,
All the Troope
Of Prophets stoope,
All the harmonious Quire of Heaven,
Archangels, Angels, t'other Seaven;
Perfect man
His life a span
Like to us, is the Heire of Glory,
Whose Kingdome is untransitory.

Epig. 18. An Acknowledgement.

These Verses (Martiall) I compos'd to be
Tapstry, for to be trodden on by thee;
Oh may thy Genius pardon my escapes,
Some are much fam'd, for being great mens Apes.

Epig. 19. On my Selfe.

Some look upon me, as one rude,
Quite erring in my Altitude,
For above Atlas Shoulders, I
Am plac'd, and all the world do eye,
When I took for me the earthly Signe
Of Scorpio, in's ascent did shine,
Just in the Planetary houre
Of Saturne, (who doth ever lowre)
I viewd the light; it much doth winne mee,
I have part of that Plannet in me.
No way facetious am I
To toyish mirth or Jollitie,
Yet in one dreame I can compose
A Comedy, in Verse or Prose,
Behold the Action, apprehend
The Jest, and the quaint plot commend,
And so much of the sence partake,
As serv's to laugh my selfe awake.

Epig. 21. Ballad Poets.

The Muses weare these patches on their Faces
To foile their Beauties, greater then the Graces.

Epig. 22. Scylla and Charibdis.

Scylla's Dogs bark not more, nor yawn so wide
As Mortalls 'gainst each other in their pride,
Rejoycing to augment each others woe,
Man is to Man Charybdis, his worst foe.

Epig. 23. Pedro, and Roderigo, The one Franciscan, the other a Dominican Frier.

Pedro , and Roderigo traveling,
Came to the brink of a Religious spring,
But Pedro fearing for to wet his feet,
Prayes Roderigo, if he think it meet,
Since he is bare-foot, on his back to carry
Him over, and save charges of a Ferry,
Roderigo's willing, takes him on his backe,
And being in the mid'st, him thus bespake,
Tell me good Brother, have you any Cash;
Poore Pedro fearing that he would him wash,
Replies I have, and mean to pay thee too,
(Not daring to return him answer, no;)
Which Roderigo hearing lets him fall
Ducking him over head, and ears, and all,
Saying, You know that by my order I,
Must beare no money, therefore, there e'ne lie.

Epig. 24. Acrisius Inclosing his Daughter Danae .

Foole! dost thou think thy Destinie to dare,
By hiding from thy Jealous eyes thy feare:
“Women are never wiser in their drifts,
“Then when by fortune forc'd unto their shifts.
‘Had not Jove came to Danae in a shower,
‘Her hot Lust had dissolv'd her brazen Tower.