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73

Two Poems Penned by the Author, before his restraint, Entituled Loves Lottery and The Cuckow.

Whereunto are annexed, The Trapanner. The Tarpolin. Messalina. An Elegie on Phil. Porters death. With his Farewell to Poetry. Or Motto upon Misery. Shewing how the Muses are Patronesses of Poverty.

74

IPSE DEUS, SUMMUS MÆONIDUM MUSÆUS

Sunt aliis alii Studiis ab Origine nati;
Artibus ingenui, deliciisque; proci.
Mæonii Musis sapiunt, opibusque; Coloni;
Sole Comes Scrinii nunc Arethusa mei.
Ardua magis est provincia Palladis quàm Plaustri;
Studii quàm Stivæ; Calami quàm Coli; Cerebri
quàm Coloni; Mercurii quàm Mallei;
Minervæ quàm Manubrii.

“Who truly loves, and cannot loved be,
“May she lead Apes in Hell; shee's not for me.

75

Loves Lottery.

I pull, God send me fortune in my thank,
Either a Prize worth having, or a Blank;
What is it Crier? see the blousing fool,
How he stands cocking on a buffet stool,
And speakes his mind in silence! Sirra, you,
That stands like to some Beacon, to the view
Of each beholder, tell me what do'est know,
Have I a Prize, resolve me yea, or no?
None; all the better, I am glad thy eyes
Are not a witnesse of a worser prize
Then nothing; it is love for which I drew,
And since I've nothing for my selfe to shew,
I am made free, that was in feare of thrall,
Which to avoid, I'le have no Prize at all.
No Prize, no booty! wellcome-heartily,
I am prepar'd, t'embrace my poverty
With an extended arme, for there is want
Which makes man happy, as Cleanthes scant
Living a single life, got knowledg store,
In which (if married) he had still been poor.
76

Yet once I'le pull againe, hap what hap can,
And may my Lot make me a happy man.
“Happy or haplesse dole, what ere shall come,
“I will with cheerfull brow receive my doome:
For this I know, if fortune meane me well,
I shall receive a Lot that doth excell
So farre the lower ranke, as flowres grasse,
“Gold lead, myrrhe hemlock, diamond the glasse.
Now Sir, what has fate sent us, some crackt peece,
Not worth receiving? thinkst thou this will please
A man, whose fortunes stand upon his Prize?
No sir, I'le ferret out your rogueries.
This is given out for some virginian travell,
Some Sea-gull voyage, and you meane to gravell
A country Codshead, and to cheat him too,
Telling him what the Merchants meane to do
With this grand contribution, but they
Meane no such thing: such voyages must stay
Till better opportunity admit,
And then perchance they will accomplish it.
And yet what strange pretences do they make,
“All that they doe is for their Country sake;
And that this expedition will confer,
Store of estate upon our Ilander?
Then, what rich oare in every cliffe abounds,
The fishie rivers, and faire spacious grounds,
That without tillage yeeld them fruit enough
Without the help of either Share or plough.
Besides, what commerce will accrue thereby
To Albions people, and her Seignory.
77

Thus our Lot-novices, are drawne to th'bait,
And brought to bite, not knowing what deceit
Lies shrouded under covert and pretence
Of country profit, Dove-like innocence.
But heare! A prize, and that the greatst of all
Befall'n a Taylor, who upon his stall
Scarce could sustaine his wife and family
With stealing shreads, and other michery;
And now's advanc'd by fortune and his Lot
To many hundreds: and yet knoweth not
His better fate, till that some friend of his
Come to bring tidings of his sodain blisse.
Where finding him heeling a paire of hose,
Or such like botcherie, He skrues his nose
After an upstart-Gallant, leaves his boord,
Which many a peece of stolen stuffe can afford:
Then streight hee claps a peece or two in th'hand
Of his good Nuncio, And thinks what land
Where best to purchase for his sunne and heire,
(Whose heritage was lists;) then do repaire
His Bakers with their scroules, and call him cofin,
With ------ Item for so many dozen dozen
All undefraid, yet much they'l not importune,
Because they heare the issue of his fortune;
Which they admire with knee and vailed head,
And now this loopehole must be worshipped,
Whose Stile by letters is engraven thus,
The Shrine of Sutor Vestiarius.
And this the Country gull, no sooner heares,
Then he is rapt with hope, and therefore beares
78

Some stakes of hazard in this Lottery;
And hopes in time to hit as prosprously
As ere the yard-man did, and had no doubt
If that he could with lots have holden out
Till he had gain'd his purchase; but how short
He came of that, his owne eares can report,
Where all he got (so little was his thank)
For his disbursements was a Paper-blank.
And yet, O hope, how strong an Oratour
Art thou in thy perswasion! where, thy power
Extracts content from shadows, telling vs
That such events may fall out thus or thus;
Which though they have no possibility,
Yet hope assures them for a certainty.
This moves us oft, to lose the substances
And reall use of things, for semblances;
Meerely phantastick fictions, which proceed
From the distemper of an addle head.
And such Ixion-like make their receit,
Too overweening of their own conceit:
Admiring Merrha-like, what ere they make,
That nought is good, but what they undertake.
Where if event prove sometime sinister
To their intent; they presently aver
The ground whereon they built the plot was good,
Hows'ere the sequell may be understood.
O strang condition of depraved men,
Where fancy is distracted, how or when
Their own affections know not, but proceed
In their intendments without better heed
79

Then purblind Appius in his Cassian lot
Who for two Romane talents got a groat!
And was not this an excellent receit
For such a summe disbursed? O deceit
As ancient as authentick! for wee see
Acts of this kind gaine an impunitie;
Because those grand-Cayrs that doe profit by them,
Are all too great for poor ones to discry them.
“Laws are like spider-webs, small flies are tane,
“Whiles greater flies break in and out againe.
But th'lot I draw's cleere of another kind;
Where many are, of th'Carthaginian mind,
That brave Arminius, and we follow him,
Who thought it better farre to lose then win
In Hymens Lottery: yet in affection
Where single numbers be, there's no perfection
Because too naked, if that one partake
“Not of an other, and assume his make
To make this number complete: but we find,
Saith Timon, that made perfect in the mind,
Where Contemplation reigneth, which can be
Hardly united with Effeminacie.
True yet the State, if with discretion us'd,
And not through wanton dalliance abus'd,
Which staines the light of wedlock, may be said,
And rightly too, of merit honoured;
Where two divided bodies become one
by an interiour union, bone of bone;
Having recourse to the Creation, when
Women had their beginning from us men:
80

So as that Mould which gave to us creation,
“Being rib-formd gave Woman generation.
And much I wonder whence these Womens pride
Had propagation! if from Adam's side,
Why should they glory in their beauties flowrs
“Since their perfection is not theirs but ours?
But if (as other Sages do aver)
Eve took this from her Lawyer Lucifer;
Why should they such esteeme of beauty make,
But rather hate it for the Serpents sake?
Who under colour of commending faire,
Tells them by art they'r fairer then they were;
Whence they becom (so pure hath art displaind them)
Made by themselves, & not as God hath made them.
Yet some there be whose vertues make them faire,
And such seeme never fairer then they are,
Whose native beauty doth her light retaine,
Whilest what art daubs, is soon dissolv'd again.
But stay, a Prize! most welcom, what may't be?
“A Maid of Dian's train, whose modestie
Is without reach of Scandal; shee it is
That's fallne to thee to consummate thy blisse;
“Farwell then Contemplation, I have got
“A rarer prize, and I will take my Lot.
 

These practise how to dye well more than to live well.

Which (as St. Ambrose saith) no age shall extinquish, no death can take away, no sicknesse corrupt. Amb. de Virg. lib. 1.

81

The Cuckow.

Lalus once laugh'd to heare the Cuckow sing,
Thinking it boded some mans cuckolding;
Where now in Spring, prime season of the yeare,
The Cuckows note sounds harshest in his eare:
For he, suspicious Sot, doth make his life
A Scout to schoole th' abuses of his wife.
How now you stutting Raskal, are you made
To tax our wives abuses, and upbraid
These manlie-horned monsters which appaere
Not rare, for they're dispers'd in every Sheere;
And now have got prescription to maintaine
That they their Predecessors style retaine?
And must a scab, one that's scarse taught to speak,
With his harsh tongue, our ignominie seeke,
Filling his hatefull bill, with hawthorne leaves,
And pestring poore Actæon, with new grieves?
Unnurtur'd Lossell, canst thou find out none
To make thy Libel on, but such an one
82

That has no time to answer such as thou,
Having a wife finds him enough to doe?
And must thou sit neere to his garden walke,
And like a stammering gossip 'gin to talk
What ere thou sees or heares, nay somtime more
Then thou didst ever see or heare before?
Is there no Law against thy impudence,
No punnishment, our wrongs to recompence?
Me thinks if men of lower ranke forbore
To chastise thee, that hast incenst them sore;
Yet such as be of higher quality,
Should with impatience beare such injury.
And yet these branched great ones when they spy thee
“Will laugh one at another, and go by thee;
And misapply thy note, and say, this shame
Thou lyes on honour, toucheth none of them;
But some silke grogran-Jacket Citizen,
Whose mincing Minx can limit where and when
Her Court-eringo trader will repaire,
Whom she is for, while he is for the Faire.
And yet thou means of them, as well as these,
And stuts out that which all the world sees,
Reproving (harsh reproofe) the bed of honour,
Which thus is stain'd with lust insulting on her.
Thou Jarring quirister, that wont to sing,
And caroll out thy tunelesse note each Spring,
Forcing suspicion in the Jealous eare
Of some long-travail'd Merchant venturer,
Whose fishing farre for pearles hath procur'd
An angler for his wife, who hath endur'd
83

As many firie tryalls in that quarrell
As Ætna's quarries or Selucus barrell
In Tenedos assault: and yet might she
Enjoy her pleasure with securitie;
If thy reporting tenure did not beare
The newes of strange suspicion to his eare.
Ill-nurtur'd nuncio, that comes ever first
Saluting us with tidings that are worst;
Breathing a jealous spirit to the mind
Of him that sees his Wife but onely kind,
(And in a modest sort) making him sweare,
That for examples sake, hee'l mangle her,
Inflicting such strange punnishment, as time
Shall brute the act, when ages do decline.
And is not this brave dealing, when a Swad
That hath no tune but one, nor ever had,
Must descant on our secret practises,
Which are so closely done, as Lynceus
With his transpiercive eyes can scarce look thorow
The night it is so dark, the place so narrow?
Must man endu'd with reasons excellence
Not reape the joy, and benefit of sense
With an embraced arme, but he must be
Checkt by the harsh note of thy jealousie?
Is there no honour dew to th'worth of man
That gaines a priviledge? No Artizan
Was ever equall to him, yet in vaine
Hath he exprest his art, when one poore staine
Can soile his beauty, and eclypse that light
Which man makes claime of, as his proper right.
84

Yet what Bird is there in the spatious wood,
Or desart forest, that so vainly proud
Assumes unto her self such daring state,
As to curb man, or privately to prate
What shee observ's or sees, save onely thou
That hast done this, and doest continue too?
Wood-building Robin doth the woods refuse,
And for mans love, to dwell with man doth chuse;
The Summer-Swallow, though she chattering calls
Upon her mate, yet will she tell no tales.
The nat'rall Stork, when as her parents age
Makes them keepe home, as pent up in a cage,
Shee feeds them with her travaile and re-brings
Store of reliefe upon her tender wings,
Whence to remove, if any time they seeme,
Shee is the hackney that doth carry them.
The billing bussing Turtle thought doth teke
For nought but for the losing of her mate,
Whom lost shee sighs, as if at his depart
Shee lost the better portion of her heart.
The warbling Thrush chants out her cheerful layes,
Glad at the heart, that Flora now displayes
Her various beauties, and shee seemes to sing
A Caroll for the Spring-times wellcomming.
The lively Lennet, that is wont to feed
Upon no other meat then thistle seed,
58

Cheeres up her selfe, and with her merry note,
Shews that content hath ever been her lot.
Night-mourning Philomel forsakes her nest,
And sings with pricking thorne set to her brest;
Prognes distresse occasion'd ruthfully,
Her selfe disgrac'd by Tereus villany.
The jealous, chast, and pure Porphyrio
Will have his love, not lov'd by others too;
For if a stranger in his bed he spie,
Death-struck he leaves to live, and loves to die.
The sprightly Sparrow, he his yong-ones feedes,
And as he treads he chirps, and chirps and treades;
Yet building in our Eaves, it likes him well
To heare us talke and doe what he'le not tell.
The wanton Wagtaile chats not what he hears,
But as our bosom-Counsellor forbears
To publish ought, though see full well he may
A thousand play the Wagtailes on a day.
Yea, th' very Scrichowle that may not repaire
To th'place where others priviledged are,
Haunts desart shades, and Cat like, sometime hies
To Barns and Graners, where she preyes on mice,
But never, Critick-like, will she defame
The mean'st that lives by staining their good name.
Thou only of all others that remaine,
Displaies the fate of Lording and of Swaine:
86

And justifies the fact, though ne're so foule,
And who is't dares thy impudence controule?
Thou may sit brousing on the Hawthorne bough,
And flout, and fleere, and libell on us too;
Yet who, though thy harsh voice do ne're so rate him,
Dare bring thee in for Scandalum magnatum?
Thou may be priviledg'd and rest secure,
Whereas if vertue play the monitor,
To tax such vices as raigne now and then
Amongst the best and highest-ranked men,
As shee in conscience must; what's her reward
But present censure, torture afterward?
Heere Minos, Radamanth, and Æacus
Will be in judgement as censorious,
As if poor vertue should be forc'd to dwell
Where they have their tribunall reer'd in Hell.
They'l terme her proud, and will avouch it too,
For what is it these great-ones may not do?
Shee must (unhappy shee) learne to be wise,
Observe mens humors, learne to temporise;
Desire to faune on great-ones, and reserve
An attribute for vice, and ever serve
A rising spirit, whose expectance gives
Life to his follower, by which hee lives.
Shee must reserve a grace to such an one
Whose honours make him worthy, and bemone
The death of such a Lord, or such a Peere,
Onley to currie favour with his Heire.
And this must vertue do, or shee must sterve;
For Idiot-like (poore foole) shee's bound to serve
87

In garded coat, or such like Liverie,
Or die in want, expos'd to miserie.
But Let her passe, I hope shee will not show
Respect to them, where shee doth nothing owe:
Such vicious painted-coates, who have no worth
To glory in, save eminence of birth,
Or large-extended Manors, all which can
Adde small perfection to the worth of man;
Who draws his Light, if he looke well about him,
From worth within him, & not wealth without him.
No, Vertue, no; thou knowest what merit is,
And canst discerne twixt true and seeming blisse;
Thy praises which thou usest to recite,
Taste not of gaine as doth the Parasite,
Whose oylie tongue is so inur'd to flatter,
As he will praise the man without the matter.
Nettle vice sharply, for 'tis now high time,
When shee on footcloth rides, while such decline
As beare respect to thee; but let them feele
What's to put honours spurr on vices heele.
And if thou want a Cryer to proclaime
The purport of thy Edict, I can name
One that will do it, and exactly too,
Without respect to either high or low.
Whom if thou aske, to descant on this theame,
It is the loud-voic'd Cuckow that I meane:
Whom i'le importune, if thou think it fit
To play the Cryer and to publish it.
 
Fronde rep'ens rostrum, repetitâ voce lacessit
Acteonem, solitos balbutiendo modos.

Vid. Calimach. & Tibull.

Vid. Plinium in natural. histo.

Basilius in Homil. 8. & 9.

Martial. in Epigram.

Faern. in Emblem.

Carduelis, quia pascitur à Cardui pilis. Vid. Varr.

Ovid. Metamorph. 6.

Alciat. in Emblem.

Catull. de Mort. Pass. Eleg. 3.

Sambuc. in Emblem, Avium.

Ovid. Metam. 6.

88

To the Cuckow.

Now Sir to you I must my speech intend,
That it would please you to be vertues friend,
And vices perfect foe; it's her desire
That you would be, as well you may, her Crier:
No matter though you stut and stammer too,
So many Criers, when they're brib'd, will doe.
But forasmuch she knows that none at all
Will in their charge be more impartiall,
Shee has made choice of you, not for your wit,
But for your voice, which will this charge befit.
One Spring will do't, I pray, good Sir, begin,
And leave your harsh distastfull Cuckowing.
But you will aske, what may this charge import?
I'le tell you Sir, for I did call you for't.
First to display Court-vices, which partake
To much of poison, for example sake;
For that place, like the Sunne, communicates
Her cheerfull beams to men of all estates:
Whose glory, if obscur'd by any mist
Of church-invading pilfring Simonist;
Or luke-warme Neuter, roming heretique,
Sect-inovatour, itching Scismatique,
Oppressing Ahab, painted Jezabel,
Sin-plotting Haman, or Achitophel;
Treacherous Agent that doth undermine
His countrie like another Catiline;
89

Profane Puntilio, Buffon, Apple-squire,
Blood-shedding Cain, that will do ought for hire,
Bribe-handed favorite or Sycophant,
That shoulders honour like an Elephant;
Cinnamon-courtier, whose very hide
Is better worth, then all his parts beside;
Riotous spend-thrift, wanton Marmosite,
Dutch-swilling Hans, Saint-seeming Hypocrite;
Whose glory if obscur'd, I say, by these,
Or any one of such like crudities,
It presently sends out these vapors to
Such places, where it did her light bestow:
For the Court exemplar is, and seemes to give
To other Parts the like prerogative.
Next to unmask, for it will be a ditie
Worthie the shrillest voice, crimes of the Citie;
Where oft is shadowed much impiety
Under pretence of meere simplicity.
There if you find a Tradesman whose chiefe care
Is to get richesse by deceitfull ware;
A smooth chin'd Prentice or a Jorney-man,
That trades with's mistresse linnen now and then;
An English Jew, that conscience-lesse inures
His godlesse soule to taking forfeitures;
A roaring Haxter, Pandor, Palliard, Bolt,
Pimp, Snap, Shark, Cheat, or any such like Colt;
Brothelling Punk, her Champion, or that Ape
Of man, though woman putting on mans shape;
If any these, as some of these you may,
You shall by your quick-sighted eye display;
90

Sing out amaine, and to their eares report
What they have done, though they beshrew you for 't.
Then to the Conntry, for you there shall hear
Many a biting-grating-Usurer,
Rent-racking Landlord, hoording Cormorant,
That's ever dreaming of a seven yeere want
Selfe-pining Miser, whose thick-leaved chest
Conteines his gold, the god which he loves best;
A Prodigall, whose fathers care is brought,
By his unheady providence, to nought;
Catchpoule from catch and pull taking his name,
Whose conscience's seer'd, & face admits no shame;
Counterfeite Pursevant, that dares appeare
With forg'd commission though he lose his eare:
False-tithing varlet, that will take his booke
He has tith'd right, when hee has stolne a stooke;
Brazen-fac'd Tinker, that with pike in hand,
Budget on back, bids way-beat Trav'ller stand;
Shread-miching Patch, hearing what Taylers do
Above i'th'City, he must pilfer too;
If these, or any these you chance to finde,
Pay me them home for all that is behinde:
So you shall purchase every mans good word,
And afterwards be styled vertues bird.
What Cuckow, will you turne your haggard taile,
Shall neither vertue, nor her suit prevaile?
Will not you leave your harsh-offensive note,
To follow vertue, and to weare her coate?
Well Sir, I'le paint you out a knave in graine,
And what I speake, think not but I'le maintaine;
91

But to particulize your rogueries,
An endlesse volumne hardly would suffice;
Some of the, chiefest therefore I'le impart,
That th'world may know how dangerous thou art:
Which in a tale, I purpose to relate,
To make short work, and thus it chanc'd of late.
“A zealous brother of the family,
“By trade a Malster, so religiously
“Imploy'd himself in mysteries divine,
“As hee was ta'ne a mirror in his time;
“For there was scarce a Sermon preached neer him
“Within seven miles, but he would go to hear him;
“From morn to night, all Sunday would he fast,
“Starving his body for his souls repast;
“And night by night, he would to Church repaire,
“Where he did shout, and bellow out his prayer.
“In briefe, now great in estimation growne
“With chiefest Famulists in all the towne;
“Hee was esteem'd the onely Rabbi there,
“So great was th'reputation hee did beare.
“And some, as I have heard, did give him power,
“Or thought him fit to be Expositour,
“Of any point when any one did move it,
“And ipse dixit was enough to prove it.
“This holy Brother now growne famous there,
“And deem'd a profess'd Doctor of the Chaire,
“Mov'd as the Spirit would, for th'spirit mov'd him,
“A Sister lov'd, and she as deerly lov'd him.
“These famulists now growne familiar,
“About Spring-time, when birds begin to paire,
92

“Upon mature advice resolved either,
“To marry there, or leave the towne together.
“But forasmuch it was for certaine knowne,
“This Malster was engag'd unto the towne,
“Owing farre more then ere hee ment to pay,
“Hee thought it fit no longer there to stay;
“But with his holy sister, to prepare
“To leave the Towne, and taste the Country ayre.
“This simple Sister doubting no deceite,
“Address'd her selfe one ev'ning very late
“To his direction, closly to depart
“And follow him who now possess'd her heart.
“Three dayes they had not travell'd on their way,
“Till resting them about midtime of day,
“Under a blooming Haw-thorne, they did heare
“The Cuckow sing nere th'place wherein they were:
“And over them he hover'd, as if they
“Had beene the persons which he would display;
“A Hawthorne leafe, he in his beake would put,
“And then would stut, and sing, and sing, and stut.
“Which th'zealous brother noting once or twice,
“Now jealous grown, strait from his place did rise,
“Using these words: Nay, if the birds of th' ayre,
“Whose gift I know in prophecy is rare,
“Fortell what shall befall my lot and mee,
“And in the Sky thus blab my destinie;
“Sister farwell, returne from whence you came,
“I will not wive to weave the web of shame.
“How ill his Sister tooke this foule retrait
“Of that Saint-seeming faithlesse counterfeit,
93

“May hence appeare: for I have often heard
“Shee fell into distraction afterward,
“Though I suppose Shee greater reason had
“To be surpriz'd with ioy, then to go mad
“For love of such a hairebraind Sot as he,
“Famous for nought save for his perjurie.
Now Sir, to whom may I impute this wrong
Done to this Maid, but to your lucklesse Song,
Which so perplext th'vow-breaking miscreant,
As shee, poor shee, must now her Darling want,
And live depriv'd of love and life together,
Running distractedly, shee knowes not whither?
But (good Thalia) whose blest influence
Gives sweetnesse of discourse and utterance;
Thou yt hast power o're tongues, restraine his tongue,
And make this bawling Cuckow henceforth dumbe;
So yeerely Maides shall to thy Shrine resort,
And free from jealous Tel-tales thank thee for't.
94

A

Vivitur ex rapto.

Trapanner.

Look to your Brain-pans, Boyes;—here comes a Traine
Of Roysting-Rufflers that are knaves in graine.
No corner can secure you; they'l rush in
And strippe the downy Gosling to his Skin.
Yet they'l accost you with a civile greet,
And with Shark-cringing congies brush your feet.
Nay, they'l incounter you with curt'sies too,
Before they practise what they meane to doe.
— Pray Sir excuse us that by chance are come
In this intrusive manner to your roome.
But we'll redeeme our error:—Drawer bring
Bottells of Sack drain'd from th'Hesperian Spring,
Where th'Watchfull Sisters kept their Sentinall;
—Quick, Rogue, wee cannot brook a second call.
Meane while this wilke, who neere saw any clyme,
But his Dads pale, or pantry all his time:
95

Nor ever view'd Luds-Tarases before,
Begins to tremble when they 'gin to rore.
A feverish qualme surprizeth ev'ry part,
His vitall heat playes rebell to his heart;
His chilled senses, cold as any stone,
Partakes no other itch but to be gone:
But he findes Remora's; He scapes not so,
Whole troups of healths come pealing on a row.
This to this Princes Hero; this to that
Enamel'd fancy Dangling on his hat;
This to his Bracelet; This to that choyce String
Impales his hayre; This to his Diamond ring;
—This to his Gippo; to his Agget watch;
This to his Tuck charg'd with a double hatch;
This to the Microcosme of this spruce youth,
With his auspicious welcome to the South.
Round run these Healths, farre rounder runs his braine,
Though surfeit sick, 'tis folly to complaine.
And now this birth growne full and perfect too,
Which yet aspir'd but to an Embrio:
A gaudy-giddy-giglet is convei'd,
A virgin pure, as any Hackney Maid,
Thick dawb'd with Cerusse, Stibium, & Vermillion,
Like Ericina's amorous Pavilion;
A rare sense-seazing Tweake, whose Speaking eyes
And Spintrian art, compleat this Enterprise.
For when they cannot presse him to offence,
They must commence a quarrell by pretence.
96

But these no more his edglesse fancy please
Then Lais Lures did cold Zenocrates.
Yet left he must be to this Circes charms
Like to a Lambkin in a Tigres arms.
For his seer pulse, though nought be wrought upon,
These Blades rush in, as if the Feat were don,
And in this sort accoast him:—“'Slid my Wife!
“Canst thou redeeme her honour, with thy life?
“My Sister, says another! Leave't to me,
“It is a Staine laid on my familie.
“My Cozen, sayes a third!—I'le flea his Skin,
“And pound him into mummey for his Sin.
“1. Actæon me!
“2. Distaine my antient house!
“3. Corrupt my Cozin!—Heark Boys, a carouse
“Shall quart it in his blood,
“1. I'le second it!
“And expiate what folly did commit.
“Who could have thought this downy Lapwing would
“To such extreams his reputation sold?
“But we shall prune his wings, and seere his crest,
“And leave him ne're a feather to his Nest.
The Dwindling Shallop in this grand dispute
Sits silent all the while as any Mute,
97

Reft both of sense and accent: and must dy
Were no compass'onat Complice standing by
To soften their resolve: Compose this strife
By begging pardon for this Wigeons life.
The Motion's made; and they incline unto 't,
So they may plunder Him from head to foot:
His substance hee's contented to forgoe,
To save his life, and hold't a curt'sy too.
“1. This Beaver, says the first, falls to my due;
“2. This Diamond shall to my lot accrue;
“3. This Scarlet Gippo and his Agget-Watch
“Fall to my share, they may advance my Match;
“4. His Belt and Tuck are mine;
“5. His Suit I claime
To hang up for an Ensigne in Long-lane.
The act's perform'd; the weakest goes to wall,
The Naked man is left, to pay for all.
No Bugle Blew, nor frisking Titire tu
Could be compared to this frontlesse Cru.
No Land-sharke of such metall, in our Ile
As this TRA-PANNER:—eye his State and Style.
Others can play the Cheats, but short of these
Who shroud their shame, by shamelesse Dabrides:
And make their Doxies Agents, to secure
Their subtill Projects with a sugred Lure.
 

Their first incounter.

The Hesperian Sisters, who kept their constant Sentinall over those golden Apples, which Alcides after took away.

A Pickhatch Girle new-casten in a Ranters Mould.

Daughter to Sol and Persis.

Their pretence is to Slice this Brain-strap into Sippets: or mince this Land-gull into a galle-maufrey. No hope, unlesse his pocket purchase him a reprieve.

Relating to the Turkish Mutes.

Two select Societies distinguished by Severall coloured Ribands: and sworne to a Platonick Comunity.

98

A Tar-paulin.

Tar-paulin is a Sea-Rat or a Sharke,
A Barnicle bred of the Ægean foame,
A Passenger shut from Noah's antient Arke,
And since a Bandite-Galley-Slave become,
I'th'liquid Region destin'd to a Tombe.
This quality by nature 's to Him given,
To prey on men, but seldome pray to heav'n:
Unlesse there be a Storme; which past, his breath
Braves Fate, though distanc'd but three
[_]
Nauta tribus digitis gaudel divisus abundis;
Incipiens fatis prospice Nauta tuis.
inch from death.
99

Upon our Ages Messalina, insatiat Madona, the matchless English Corombona.

Here lies Lust,
Revenge, Defame.
Woe to man, to woman shame;
Faire and false, as great as ill,
Weake in Grace, but strong in Will.
Honours blemish, Hymens stayne,
Virtues poyson, Beauties baine,
Albions-Siren, tyrant-woman,
Faith-infringer, true to no man;
Femall-Divell, plots-contriver,
Worths-tormenter, lifes depriver;
Tragick actor, blood effuser,
Times corrupter, States-abuser;
Brothel-Turner, virgin-Trader,
Husband-hater, Lusts-perswader;
Ages-monster, youths-deflourer,
Worlds-rumor, wealths-devourer;
Painted-Idol, Arts-new-creature,
Ladie in a Pages feature;
100

Soyle to the soile where shee was bred,
Poys'ning most where shee was fed;
Vices-harbor, times quotation,
Double troth'd by Dispensation;
Nights deere-Minion, Lights abjurer,
Souls-eclipser, sinnes-securer;
Vault of darkness, horrors-Heire;
Childe to Mischiefe and Despaire;
Saint-appearing, maid-protesting,
Yet both Saint and Maid molesting;
Saint with sorrow, Maid with furie,
Tried by a woman-Jurie;
Seeming-try'd, yet was afraid
To be censur'd for a Maid;
Therefore chus'd a Maid indeede
To be searched in her steede;
Mask'd, for so did shame require,
Suited in her owne attyre;
Thus shee passed undescryde,
Found a Maid, yet never tryde.
One that knew the way to marrie
Not by Priest but Pothecarie;
Whose Receits, which Art allow'd her
To applie, were Spiders pouder,
Copprice, Vitriol, which in part
Shew'd her skill in Chymick art.
Thus she liv'd, and thus she di'd,
Serpents brood, and Sathans bride,
Pitied least when most distrest,
Hated most when envied lest:
101

So as question may be made,
Whether that her Corps now laid
And inter'd in Natures brest
Will endure in Earth to rest,
Or her ashes after death
Will not with infectious breath
Staine that holy plot of ground,
Where her lustfull-Corps are found.
But howere her body be,
Sure I am that infamie
Will ne'r leave her, but will have
Still her foote upon her Grave.
Graving this upon her Tombe
As a Theame in time to come:
Here lies young Messalina, whose foul lust,
Pios'd with revenge, proves thus much; God is just!
For heate of lust, immixt with height of blood
Had never deeper dye in Womanhood.
102

Phil. Porters Elegie: In answer to a Libelling Ballader, seeking by his mercenary Pen, to traduce his honour.

Cease Ballader; in censuring Phil Porter
Thou dost but bray thy Brainpan in a Morter.
Hee was a Man of men, and women too,
And could doe more then Others Hectors doe.
For th'Style of Honour hee stood stiffe upon't,
And would far sooner give then take affront.
Besides, he shew'd compassion all his life
In taking a doom'd Pris'ner to his wife,
Saying, “She should bee cheer'd before shee dy;
“Wedding and hanging goe by destiny.
In one word, none to Fortune lesse beholden,
Who was in Fare more choice, nor Pocket golden.
103

His death divin'd a rare Prophetick fate
By his prevention of an Act of State;
Where Hectors are a strict account to give
How, and by what wayes, their ranting humors live:
For arm'd with resolution, hee thought fit
To passe from hence before hee answer'd it.
Should Death thus seize on all our ruffling Fry,
That Act might cease, because the Actors dy.
 

A Captive in Newgate, shortly after executed at Tiburne.

His farewell to Poetry.

Carmina secessum, scribentis & otia quærunt.

Bookes fare yee well! your Author now is hurl'd
Like a transformed thing into the World.
Now am I grown as like as like may be
To earth-turn'd Chremes in the Comedie;
Now must I take more care then doth become me,
For many Items which have quite undone me.
Item for sope and candles are but small,
Compar'd with those that I've to deale withall.
104

My cares be many, though my coyne be more,
Which add affliction to my carefull store.
Those Tales which I on winter nights have told
When I was casten in a merry mold,
And those same Songs whereof I had such choice,
Not only I've forgot, but lost my voice.
I who of late so cheerfully did looke,
And with a wench could drinke a Sillibooke,
Am of that ashie hue, scarce one 'mong ten
Can know me now, that knew my visage then.
Yea, I'm so muddy growne, as now of late
I can scarce laugh at any good conceite;
Yea, one may talke to mee a summer day,
And I nere heare one word that he doth say;
So clotted am I growne with worldly pelfe,
As I much feare I shall forget my selfe.
If I but misse the key of such a chest,
Till I have found it I can take no rest,
For I am jealous still and full of care
Lest some base knave should in my fortunes share.
Besides, when rest should my lul'd senses keepe,
Strange visions startle mee, and break my sleepe.
Sometime I see a sharke, which makes mee shake,
The keyes of all my treasure sliely take
Under my pillow; and awak't with feare,
Me thinks I catch the Rogue fast by the eare;
But comming to my selfe, I finde right soone,
My hand upon no Rogues eare but mine owne.
Straight in a broken slumber doe I heare
Fire, fire (me thinks) resounding ev'ry where,
105

Which feare of fire begets in mee desire
To pisse my bed, that I may quench the fire.
Much better was my State, and far more free,
When I remaind i'th Universitie;
Where as I had nought, so I car'd for nought,
But for the pitch of knowledg, which I sought:
Having both cheerfull sleep, and healthfull ayre,
And Stomach too, hows'ere my commons were.
What chioce delights were then afforded us
In reading Plutarch, Livie, Tacitus,
Or the Stagyrians rare Philosophie,
Whereto the Inds may not compared be
With all their precious oare; For I did finde
No Mine on earth could so enrich the minde?
But see how I am chang'd from what I was!
For now I prize more Isis goldan Asse,
Who has more means then brains, then such an one,
Whose parts are many, though his meanes be none.
Besides, no Authors can I brooke to read,
But such as in mee hope of profit breed.
I have no time to think of Conscience
For timely thrift, and Ant-like providence.
I weigh no Protestant nor Catholick,
Give mee a Georgick or a Bucolick,
To teach mee what a Grazer doth befit;
And for my tillage how to husband it:
Yea, lest I err in rules of husbandrie,
An Erra-pater keeps mee companie,
To tell mee which are good-dayes, which are ill,
And this I keepe closse in my bosom still.
106

With Pallingenius too I oft converse,
Whose sense I relish better then his verse;
Where I collect by th'influence of each Star,
What yeere is mark'd for famine, what for war;
And if I finde a deere yeere like to be,
My store shall make that yeere my Jubile.
Nor have I only bid my Books adieu,
But yee that are good-fellows, unto you;
For what should I doe sitting of a shot,
Who set more by my penny then my pot?
'Tis strange to see, how with a little state,
I'm wholy metamorphosed of late.
Before I could not brooke to have a moate.
(So briske and spruce I was) upon my coate:
Now earths affections are to mee so moving,
As I am grown a very arrant sloving.
Besides, I feele a misery in store,
For I am far more sparing then before.
My care of thriving makes mee one of those,
Who ride their Gelding barefoote to save shoes.
Nor can I be disswaded from the same,
Till under mee I feele my Palfrey lame.
The smallest trifle makes mee discontent,
And with my houshold so impatient,
As all the day I chafe, I fume, I fret,
And for no cause at all my servants beat.
If any Neighbours doe lesse then become them,
I presently commence a suite upon them;
And for a Goose-gate (that I more may spite them)
Of trespass at next Sessions I'le indite them;
107

So as of late, by trifling Suits I'm growne
The Commonst-Barretter in all our towne.
And for as much as I doe know the fashion
Is now a dayes bartring Impropriation
And Presentations too, it is my thrift
To seeme to give, yet profit by my gift:
Free from which crime, of beneficed men,
It's very rare to finde one among ten.
For Symonie is such a common sin,
More Prelats by the window doe get in
Then by the Door, so as my manner's now
To wipe my mouth, and doe as others doe;
For I doe hold that rich Drones doctrine best,
Who though he cannot preach, can cram my chest,
For my Donation then who will come by it,
Be he nere so sufficient, hee must buy it.
More then all this although I know no sorrow
May of more basenesse his beginning borrow,
Then to lament, as many worldlings doe,
The sudden losse of eyther Oxe or Cow;
I'm grown so tender hearted as I'le crye,
And like a childe put finger in the eye
For ev'ry niflle, and distracted run,
As if my State were utterly undun.
So as I'm grosly pointed at by some,
And call'd old Mammon wheresoere I come;
Though neyther I, my Marmosite nor page,
Can make amongst us fifty yeers of age.
Besides, if any Debtor now of mine
Should chance to Bankerout before his time,
108

And leave mee in the lapse; I'm so opprest
With griefe, as night nor day I take no rest,
But roving here and there, as one forlorne,
I wish the morn were night, the night were morne.
Early before 't be light I fetch the Statute,
Where all the day long I am poring at it,
To see if it will tender mee reliefe
To ease my State, cure care, alay my griefe;
Which if I cannot finde, I pule and crye,
And like a bull-rush hang the head and dye.
And yet I dye not (this my fates forbid)
Though happy were my Neighbours if I did:
For next time I come out to take the ayre)
Though for my wealth then health I take more care)
I presently some pretty Toft espy,
Which to my owne conveniently doth ly;
And hee's a very Naboth that doth owe it,
Which makes mee hope in time to creepe into it;
For I doe wish a famine but to see,
And sure I am his Toft will fall to mee;
For either want of bread will disestate him,
Or to the naked bones I meane to grate him.
I am to th' eares in Law, nor doe I care
Though I lose by't; my purpose is to spare
So much at least in dole-dayes to the poore
As will maintain my Suits of law and more.
The other day, my friend made mee an offer,
But I set light by th' curt'sy he did proffer,
That I might Knighted be, if I would buy it,
Whereto I answere made, I'de rather fly it,
109

Then purchase such a state by which I lost,
For th' Proverb is, much worship and much cost.
All my discourse, when any visit mee,
Is to inveigh 'gainst Prodigalitie,
And what distempers our excesse doth breede,
In hope my guests more sparingly will feede;
Lest they should surfeit, which were hard to doe,
For all my dishes are but one or two.
This my discourse store of examples hath,
As Adam, Lot, Moses, Methuselath,
Who lived many healthfull dayes no doubt,
Yet best of their provision was a roote:
Why should not same provision at this day
Content our liqu'rish tastes as well as they?
Yet thanks unto my Starres, I am as able
To feede as freely at anothers Table,
And with as luscious fare delight my taste,
As those that had their breeding in puffe-paste.
Yea, marke th' extent of misery in this,
My hyde-bound-Nature so restrained is,
As for this twelve month I was never found
To ease my selfe within anothers ground;
Because I would be very loth to see
Any mans Land made fruitfuller by mee;
For all the good I may or ever can,
I wish't my selfe, and to no other man.
Besides, I'm so surpriz'd with my estate,
As I've no Stomach to my meate of late;
Like to a Picture made of dough, mop I,
While others gormandize it that sit by:
110

I all a dinner time scarce eate a bit,
But muse how I may such a Purchase git,
Yea, Midas-like, if I might what I would,
I could wish all my meate were turn'd to gold;
So should I quickly without more adoe,
Famish my selfe and all my meynie too.
Before, my care was how to prize my health,
And next my health, my wench, above all wealth;
Wherein I shew'd compassion to the poore,
In clothing now and then my naked whore;
Where now I'm more perplext then can be told,
If my Tweake squeeze from mee a peece of gold;
For, to my Lure she is so kindely brought,
I looke that she for nought should play the nought.
Besides all this, since I came to such wealth,
If I enjoy my Wench, it is by stealth;
For store of eyes are on mee, and report
May bring a Rich man to the Chapter-Court:
Where, in bare fees, I might much money spend,
Although the Commissiarie bee my friend.
I care not much if ev'ry Month were Lent,
Not that I meane the sooner to repent,
For I no Sac-cloth weare, nor ashes neyther,
But that I and my house might starve together:
Yea, fasting I commend so much the more,
Because spare-Dyet doth preserve my store.
I've tane a course nought in my house to keepe
Save Rats and Mice, shall eat when I'm a sleepe.
For Reputation, I so lightly prize it,
I hold him only wise that doth despise it:
111

Yea, this shall be the marke whereat I pitch,
Rather to be dishonest then not rich.
Well, if these be the fairest fruits of Wealth,
I hold him blest has liberty and health;
For who 'll desire that Treasurie to keepe,
That reaves him of his meate and of his sleepe;
Yea mads him too, for thus much sure I am,
No Worldling ever yet was, his owne man?
I will not play the Asse thus, nor contemn;
The only sweet society of men:
The Dev'll shall have it first, hows'ere I seeme,
(The Divell at St. Dunstans I doe meane)
Rather then like a Stoick-worldling strive
To hoord up that would famish me alive.
At Ducks and Drakes we on the Thames will play
And pave the streete with gold to Halloway,
Next day, my Boyes, at Ratcliffe we 'll make merry,
And bring our Suburbs Tweaks, down in a wherry.
From thence to Rumford, where I meane to rore;
Thus shall my Sharks share in a rich mans store:
For Minus rule shall my direction bee,
I'll rather drown my Wealth, then it drown mee.
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