A Medicinable Morall that is, the two Bookes of Horace his Satyres, Englyshed accordyng to the prescription of saint Hierome. The Wailynges of the Prophet Hieremiah, done into Englyshe verse. Also Epigrammes. T. Drant |
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The sixte Satyre.
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 | A Medicinable Morall |  |
The sixte Satyre.
THE POET REBVKETH those which do cōmend vices in the nobilitie, and do iudge such worthie to bear rule, as also those whiche thinke, that none base borne oughte to haue any accesse to promotion. He speaketh to Mecenas, and commendeth hym as one whiche hath respect onely to vertue and godly qualities.
nor thyne Hetrurie lande,
(Myne owne good Lord) dothe cause thy name,
and honour styll to stande.
Not fathers syre, not mothers syre
to cheuetant in fielde:
(About whose banners suche a route
of lustye bloods bare shielde.)
(as moste of gentrie be)
To make a mocke of meaner men,
for thou acceptest me.
Whose mother was infranchised,
and sayste, it dothe not skyll
Of petigree, so that oure owne
demeanour be not yll.
Of this full well thou arte resolude
before kyng Tullie gan
So tyrannous a monarchie
imbecelyng freedome than
By vertues spray, the basest borne
myght be the noblest man.
Leuinus, he whose ancestours
kyng Tarquine droue away:
Through lyfe corrupt, and rainlesse youth
dyd worke his fames decay.
Neglected of the commoners,
who onely doo admyre,
Nobilitie, and none but them
to honors would aspyre.
If it be so that lawlesse prankes
Yea nobles, discommendeth:
Who will prayse vs of baser blood
except our lyfe amendeth?
For what if Leuyn were estemde
and Decie were not so?
Leuyn a lowte, and Decie stoute,
Yet Leuins kyndred tho,
Myght be induction to the rude,
to deeme of hym so well.
If that the counsayles President,
perchaunce should me expell,
From Senate house, for vulgar stocke,
This colour woulde he make,
for ciuile profites sake.
But glitterynge glorie rauysheth
the poore and princely state:
And pleasurs not aiote at lengthe:
lette Tullie spell his fate.
He myght haue past, hys tyme in peace
declinyng lordly lyfe,
His royall robes rasde rancour vp,
and rancoure termelesse stryfe.
Suche is the worlde, who beares the swey
assuredly is scande,
Howe he came vp, what parentage,
what was his fathers lande.
For, as the yonger that would seme
moste hansome and moste braue,
Dothe make the mo to marke the more
if he suche features haue:
So, who so thinks to rule in realmes,
and aufull swey to beare,
To place, displace, to dubbe disdubbe,
to kepe the costes in feare:
The riflyng of his petigree,
muste thynke erewhyle to heare.
Durste thou (say they) a beggers brat,
in suche outtakyng rage,
Take on thee thus, to heade the peare,
to hang and drawe the page?
Nouie, woulde be a counsayler
in lawe I passe hym farre.
Though not lyke some of fyled tongue
to parle a case at barre,
But, he can sett a face of it,
with his forpenned tayle,
In solemne syghtes, he thunders so,
that fauters neuer fayle.
They laugh me styll to scorne:
He is to base to rule saye they,
in deede to basely borne.
Nowe grudge they me, because I am
becomde your houshold guest:
Before, because in warre and fielde
my rule was nexte the beste.
Thyngs muche vnlyke: for be it so,
that honours enuyde be,
As fortunes gyftes, yet maye I well
be suppliaunt to the:
Whiche art by choyce of ponderyng witte,
of frendes prouided (lo)
Not roumerakers, nor rente rackers,
nor staynde with vices mo.
I dare not saye that fortune coulde
haue wrought me suche a blisse,
Not loreles chaunce, but Uirgils lore,
dyd helpe me vp to this.
Fyrst Uirgils voyce, then Uaries prayse,
your presence dyd procure:
At myne income, I lowted lawe,
And muttred full demure.
For bashefull shame dyd styll my voice
and muche abridge my talke:
Therfore in blasing of my bloode,
my tongue it dothe not walke.
Nor howe that I doo mount on mule,
in countrey gawyshe games:
I platly power out my mynde,
thou answere also frames.
In briefe and fewe, suche is thy wont
and after certayne dayes:
Thou calls me home, and calls my frende,
and this my griefe alayes.
who good from bad dothe parte,
Not by dissente, but lyfe well led,
and ballaste breast with arte.
For if with slender single sinnes
and those but very few,
My vpright nature be infecte,
(as if in cumlye hue
A warte or twayne be euidente)
it is not muche to rue.
If gamegroper or muckmunger,
I can not proue it be,
Nor spente my youth in daliaunce,
the case is well with me.
And be in charitable lyfe,
withall and euery frende:
I thancke my father for this gere,
he sente me to this ende.
He sente me not to lawyers shop:
to learne accoumpte to caste,
To be recorder, auditor,
to know to fetche in faste.
Nor as the gentles sende their sonnes,
to chatter in a plea,
Professing law, learne lawlesse lyfe,
and sayle in reade Sea.
But lyke the babes of noble birthe,
to Rome I was conducted
With lordly artes, that might be seene,
the beste I was instructed.
My garments suche, retynue suche
that most men did beleue,
My gransyres goodds, did stay the route,
that hangde vppon my sleue.
My maister graue, well studied,
and much vnlyke a sorte,
do let their youth go sporte.
For few, (as tip of all good name)
he taughte me shamfastnes,
That shendful shame through worde or fact
did neuer me oppresse
Not fearing, though I wente to lawe,
on him I shoulde complaine,
Nor doe: I can him hartye thancke,
and praise him, for his paine.
Except I mad, I may be glad,
eke, of my parente base,
And do milyke such kynd of skuse
which sum vse in this case.
Pardie (say they) not our faulte is,
our parage is so meane:
Pardye, say I, my voyce and heart
doth go against that cleane.
For, if that nature woulde and coulde
reclayme my dulcet dayes,
And bid me picke my parents out,
mongst those, that beares the swayes,
Sum would no doubte bid me take one,
that liftes the loftye mace,
And praunceth in the purple throne,
contented with my place.
I woulde not chaunge: the moste of men,
wil thincke me straughte of witte,
But you, can wey the waightie state,
and iudge a ryghte of it.
For, as auctoritie is greate,
so substaunce must be greate
My viaundes greate my charges greate,
my frendes I muste, intreate,
Som, one, or other, must I haue
where so that I be gone,
a shame to be alone.
My many muche, my traine of men,
my geldings fatte and fayre,
My waggons, coches, horselitters,
for coste I muste not spare.
In cytie, I must set vppon
my golde bespangled mule,
In deeper way, a trounsinge steede,
whome vneth ought can rule.
Els sum will checke me for my thryfte,
Lorde Tullus so woulde thriue,
Who Pretor woulde ride through the streetes,
his trayne no more but fyue.
Fyue peltinge laddes, (good senator)
at least must wayte on the,
And I may rome my mastership,
wheresoeuer lyketh me.
My selfe alone can chepen things,
and make my market well,
At euen and morne in fayre or marte
from thence to where I dwell:
So suche pore cates, as I well lyke,
my supper reddie set,
A pot of drinke, a glasse of oyle
my housholde stuffe not greate.
From that to bed not crampte with care,
of that whiche may betyde,
Nor bente to go a pilgremage,
for my greate stryfe or pryde.
I ryse at ease walke forth at ease,
and then a caste at booke,
All secretly, (a ioy of ioyes
at it to syt and loke)
For weryed with my bookishe gase,
I noynte with supple oyle,
with brande beginnes to broyle:
I washe my corps in cooly shade.,
my dyat smale and thin,
Of pretie pittuance, not so muche,
as stomacke woulde let in.
I calculate the coursinge starres,
how eche doth run, and rayne,
When noysom dogge doth flame in rage,
I cum not at the bayne,
But sytt at home: this is the lyfe,
so iollye, and so free,
That cherisheth, and cheareth vp,
and so recumforts me.
As though my father grandfather,
and vncle erste had bene,
Lordes treasurers, and lefte me knighte,
and ryche in chyldhood grene.
| A Medicinable Morall | |