University of Virginia Library

If Sackvile, all that have the power to doe
Great and good turns, as wel could time them too,
And knew their how, and where: we should have, then
Lesse list of proud, hard, or ingratefull Men.
For benefits are ow'd with the same mind
As they are done, and such returnes they find:
You then whose will not only, but desire
To succour my necessities tooke fire,
Not at my prayers, but your sense; which laid
The way to meet, what others would upbraid;
And in the Act did so my blush prevent,
As I did feele it done, as soone as meant:
You cannot doubt, but I who freely know
This Good from you, as freely will it owe;
And though my fortune humble me, to take
The smallest courtesies with thankes, I make
Yet choyce from whom I take them; and would shame
To have such doe me good, I durst not name:
They are the Noblest benefits, and sinke
Deepest in Man, of which when he doth thinke,
The memorie delights him more, from whom
Then what he hath receiv'd. Gifts stinke from some,
They are so long a comming, and so hard
Where any Deed is forc't, the Grace is mard.

Can I owe thankes, for Curtesies receiv'd
Against his will that doe's 'hem? that hath weav'd
Excuses, or Delayes? or done 'hem scant,
That they have more opprest me, then my want?
Or if he did it not to succour me,
But by meere Chance? for interest? or to free
Himselfe of farther trouble, or the weight
Of pressure, like one taken in a streight?
All this corrupts the thankes, lesse hath he wonne,
That puts it in his Debt-booke e're't be done;
Or that doth sound a Trumpet, and doth call
His Groomes to witnesse; or else lets it fall
In that proud manner: as a good so gain'd,
Must make me sad for what I have obtain'd.

No! Gifts and thankes should have one cheerefull face,
So each, that's done, and tane, becomes a Brace.
He neither gives, or do's, that doth delay
A Benefit: or that doth throw't away
No more then he doth thanke, that will receive
Nought but in corners; and is loath to leave,
Lest Ayre, or Print, but flies it: Such men would
Run from the Conscience of it if they could.

As I have seene some Infants of the Sword
Well knowne, and practiz'd borrowers on their word,
Give thankes by stealth, and whispering in the eare,
For what they streight would to the world forsweare;
And speaking worst of those, from whom they went
But then, fist fill'd to put me off the sent.
Now dam'mee, Sir, if you shall not command
My Sword ('tis but a poore Sword understand)
As farre as any poore Sword i'the Land,
Then turning unto him is next at hand,
Dam's whom he damn'd too, is the veriest Gull,
H'as Feathers, and will serve a man to pull.

Are they not worthy to be answer'd so,
That to such Natures let their full hands flow,
And seeke not wants to succour: but enquire
Like Money-brokers; after Names, and hire
Their bounties forth, to him that last was made,
Or stands to be'n Commission o'the blade?
Still, still, the hunters of false fame apply
Their thoughts and meanes to making loude the cry;
But one is bitten by the Dog he fed,
And hurt seeks Cure, the Surgeon bids take bread,
And spunge-like with it dry up the blood quite:
Then give it to the Hound that did him bite;
Pardon, sayes he, that were a way to see
All the Towne-curs take each their snatch at me.
O, is it so? knowes he so much? and will
Feed those, at whom the Table points at still?
I not deny it, but to helpe the need
Of any, is a Great and generous Deed:
Yea, of th'ingratefull: and he forth must tell
Many a pound, and piece will pace one well;
But these men ever want: their very trade
Is borrowing, that but stopt they doe invade
All as their prize, turne Pyrats here at Land,
Ha'their Bermudas, and their streights i'th' Strand:
Man out of their Boates to th' Temple, and not shift
Now, but command; make tribute, what was gift;
And it is paid'hem with a trembling zeale,
And superstition I dare scarce reveale
If it were cleare, but being so in cloud
Carryed and wrapt, I only am aloud
My wonder! why? the taking a Clownes purse,
Or robbing the poore Market-folkes should nurse
Such a religious horrour in the brests
Of our Towne Gallantry! or why there rests
Such worship due to kicking of a Punck!
Or swaggering with the Watch, or Drawer drunke;
Or feats of darknesse acted in Mid-Sun,
And told of with more Licence then th'were done!
Sure there is Misterie in it, I not know
That men such reverence to such actions show!
And almost deifie the Authors! make
Lowd sacrifice of drinke, for their health-sake
Reare Suppers in their Names! and spend whole nights
Unto their praise, in certaine swearing rites;
Cannot a man be reck'ned in the State
Of Valour, but at this Idolatrous rate?
I thought that Fortitude had beene a meane
'Twixt feare and rashnesse: not a lust obscene,
Or appetite of offending, but a skill,
Or Science of a discerning Good and Ill.
And you Sir know it well to whom I write,
That with these mixtures we put out her light
Her ends are honestie, and publike good!
And where they want, she is not understood.
No more are these of us, let them then goe,
I have the lyst of mine owne faults to know,
Looke too and cure; Hee's not a man hath none,
But like to be, that every day mends one,
And feeles it; Else he tarries by the Beast,
Can I discerne how shadowes are decreast,
Or growne; by height or lownesse of the Sunne?
And can I lesse of substance? when I runne,
Ride, saile, am coach'd, know I how farre I have gone,
And my minds motion not? or have I none:
No! he must feele and know, that I will advance
Men have beene great, but never good by chance,
Or on the sudden. It were strange that he
Who was this Morning such a one, should be
Sydney e're night? or that did goe to bed
Coriat, should rise the most sufficient head
Of Christendome? And neither of these know
Were the Rack offer'd them how they came so;
'Tis by degrees that men arrive at glad
Profit in ought each day some little adde,
In time 'twill be a heape; This is not true
Alone in money, but in manners too.
Yet we must more then move still, or goe on,
We must accomplish; 'Tis the last Key-stone
That makes the Arch, The rest that there were put
Are nothing till that comes to bind and shut.
Then stands it a triumphall marke! then Men
Observe the strength, the height, the why, and when,
It was erected; and still walking under
Meet some new matter to looke up and wonder!
Such Notes are vertuous men! they live as fast
As they are high; are rooted and will last.
They need no stilts, nor rise upon their toes,
As if they would belie their stature, those
Are Dwarfes of Honour, and have neither weight
Nor fashion, if they chance aspire to height,
'Tis like light Canes, that first rise big and brave,
Shoot forth in smooth and comely spaces; have
But few and faire Devisions: but being got
Aloft, grow lesse and streightned; full of knot.
And last, goe out in nothing: You that see
Their difference, cannot choose which you will be.
You know (without my flatt'ring you) too much
For me to be your Indice. Keep you such,
That I may love your Person (as I doe)
Without your gift, though I can rate that too,
By thanking thus the curtesie to life,
Which you will bury, but therein, the strife
May grow so great to be example, when
(As their true rule or lesson) either men
Donnor's or Donnee's to their practise shall
Find you to reckon nothing, me owe all.