University of Virginia Library

Epigram. 24. In Swaggerum.

Swagger, the onely Strike-fire of our time,
Whose sword the Steele, whose fury is the flint,
Well would this Caualier become my rime,
But, O impatience! Sbloud put him not in't:
For if I doe, be sure hee'l be my bane,
Not Herc'les vsde the three-chopt Hel-hound so,
As I shall be, if in his clutches ta'ne,
Hee'l teach the curre for barking any moe.
Yet good sir Swagger, if I pen thy praise,
Record thy valour, registring in it
How many thou hast killed in thy dayes:
All which I dare be sworne are liuing yet.
If I shall say how thou becomst a terrour,
A Bugge-beare to those Babie-hearted slaues,
That know not how they grosely liue in errour,
To thinke thee valiant only for thy braues.
If I shall terme thee the Innes onely hackester,
The Tauerns tyrant, like some cutting Dicke,
To call the Oastler rogue, be knaue the Tapster,
With, Fill's another quarte, come villaine quicke.
If I shall tell how thou mad'st Pickt-hatch smoke,
And how without smoke thou wast fired there:
If I shall tell how, when thy head was broke,
Thou wouldst haue bin reuenged, but for feare.
Thus if I praise thee, say, shall I not please thee,
Well, doe, or doe not, thus resolu'd I am,
Swagger thy words, thy oths shal not release thee,
Be thou the subiect of this Epigram:
Swagger thou maist, and sweare as thou art wont,
Thou wilt not fight, I am assured on't.