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 second Satyre.
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 | A Medicinable Morall |  |
The second Satyre.
VNDER THE PERSONAGE of the Stoike Ofellus, he controlleth the gluttonous and riottous: he sheweth the varietie of meates them selues, not to be so dilectable, as they are so made by abstinence, and sharpe appetite. He cōmendeth muche frugalitie, whiche is chiefly in sparynge and thryftie diete.
Howe
good it is, and laudable,
to lyue but with a small:
It passeth me for to discriue,
Offellus tolde it all.
A rudesbie, and vnruly, wyse,
and yet vnlucky man,
Who neuer could bryng to an ende,
The thynge whiche he began.
Learne abstinence, O learne of me
not when your paunche is full,
Or when with grosse vpflyngyng fumes,
Your syght is masde and dull:
Or when your lust leanes to the worst,
and wyll not brooke the beste,
Come soberly, not ouerchargde,
With intrayls all at reste.
Some thyng to say: the wastefull wombe,
dothe plague and kyll the brayne:
As that iudge dothe his countrey hurt,
who gapeth after gayne.
When thou doste trace the hastyng hare,
or tame the Iennet wylde,
Or fyght in fielde, lyke Romayn stoute,
(vnlyke a Grekyshe chylde.)
Or when thou doest at footeball playe,
or tennice for pastyme:
Whylste loue of game dothe ease thy toyle,
and helpe awaye the tyme:
Or when thou slyngest in the ayre:
with myght auoyde the stone:
What so thou doste, do earnestly,
and when thy toyle is gone,
Thou shalt haue stomake quick and sharpe,
that when thou comes to dyne,
It will not loke for sweete conceytes,
or fragrant friskyng wyne.
If that the rude and vgly sea,
doo lette the fyshers arte,
If foode doo fayle, of breade and salte,
to take and eate thy parte.
Thou wilt be glad. Why is it thus?
Howe soundeth thys wyth reason?
The smell of hoate and smokyng roast,
though it be deare and geason,
Dothe not delyte of it owne selfe:
thou makes the culleis good.
Thy sweate and pyne, makes sweete and fyne,
and sauours all thy food.
What taste is there, yf thou beiste gordgde?
ne can it well endue,
In lampre, or in leueret,
or choppyn oysters newe.
Nathelesse, I can not thee perswade,
but yf they bothe be dreste,
The Pecocke, and the pubble hen,
the Pecocke tasteth best.
Begyled with apparances:
because her costly sayle
Is rare: and that a circled pryde
She beareth in her tayle.
As though that were materiall:
her feathers doste thou eate,
So gaye to thee? or is she ells,
in brothe the better meate?
The fleshe of bothe is muche alike:
thou loues the pecocke, tho,
Because of gallant gawyshe plumes:
well, lette it then be so.
The Dogge fyshe, that from Tyber cums,
or streame in Tuscus streete,
Why is it worse, then that, from sea
where wrastlynge waues doo meete?
O dotyng worlde, aboue the rest,
they loue the Mullet greate,
And yet doo mynce her smale and smale
before they doo her eate.
Thus may we see, the syght is all:
If syght make thynges excell,
Great Porposes, shoulde be in price:
na, sothely I can tell
Why they be not: this porpose fyshe,
with vs is euery where:
A mullet for the mincyng dames,
for that is rare and dere.
The temperate will litle eate
and feede of simple chere.
Some gluttons would eate greater fyshe,
to satisfye theyr mawes,
(Lyke hellyshe Harpies) from a panne,
with gredie gnawyng iawes.
But you, you wastefull southerne wyndes,
corrupt their viandes all:
It needes not muche: for bore or brytte,
dothe taste to them as galle.
When to muche hauocke hath them cloyde,
then gyn they sore to longe
For rapes, and Helicampane roote,
and doo the beggers wronge.
So kynges (to haue theyr courses iust)
Reiect not pore mens cates,
As egges, and oyle, with suche the lyke
receyude and vsde of states.
The heraulde Gallo for a dyshe
He vsde vppon a day,
Was yll rebukde. But they to blame:
for brittes fewe durste assay.
The Britte dyd scope abroade in seas,
The Storke dyd kepe her neste,
Before paunche pampryng Pretorie,
tolde howe they shoulde be dreste.
If some, the rolted cormoraunt,
delytefull woulde reporte,
Our youthe (soone taught to naughtynesse)
would trye it for a sporte.
The couetous and sparynge man
we muste not note for one,
(As Ofell saythe) if thou, percase
from one synne wouldste be gone,
And therby happe into a worse,
that were a bootlesse case.
Canis, in whome for his deserte,
that name maye well take place,
Olde oliues, and the dogtree fruicte,
and lees of chaunged wyne,
And vyle vnpleasaunt greasye oyle,
to lothesome for a swyne.
(If he dyd feast his frende at home,
or kepe his natiue daye,
Or solemnise the tyme by chaunce,
in surly ryche araye.)
Abundance of suche corrupt stuffe,
Mongst his, he woulde outlaye.
What dyet shall the wyse man then,
twixte two contraries vse?
Shall he the trade of couetyse,
or prodigall refuse?
to lyue but with a small:
It passeth me for to discriue,
Offellus tolde it all.
and yet vnlucky man,
Who neuer could bryng to an ende,
The thynge whiche he began.
Learne abstinence, O learne of me
not when your paunche is full,
Or when with grosse vpflyngyng fumes,
Your syght is masde and dull:
Or when your lust leanes to the worst,
and wyll not brooke the beste,
Come soberly, not ouerchargde,
With intrayls all at reste.
Some thyng to say: the wastefull wombe,
dothe plague and kyll the brayne:
As that iudge dothe his countrey hurt,
who gapeth after gayne.
When thou doste trace the hastyng hare,
or tame the Iennet wylde,
Or fyght in fielde, lyke Romayn stoute,
(vnlyke a Grekyshe chylde.)
Or when thou doest at footeball playe,
or tennice for pastyme:
Whylste loue of game dothe ease thy toyle,
and helpe awaye the tyme:
Or when thou slyngest in the ayre:
with myght auoyde the stone:
What so thou doste, do earnestly,
and when thy toyle is gone,
Thou shalt haue stomake quick and sharpe,
that when thou comes to dyne,
It will not loke for sweete conceytes,
or fragrant friskyng wyne.
If that the rude and vgly sea,
doo lette the fyshers arte,
If foode doo fayle, of breade and salte,
to take and eate thy parte.
Howe soundeth thys wyth reason?
The smell of hoate and smokyng roast,
though it be deare and geason,
Dothe not delyte of it owne selfe:
thou makes the culleis good.
Thy sweate and pyne, makes sweete and fyne,
and sauours all thy food.
What taste is there, yf thou beiste gordgde?
ne can it well endue,
In lampre, or in leueret,
or choppyn oysters newe.
Nathelesse, I can not thee perswade,
but yf they bothe be dreste,
The Pecocke, and the pubble hen,
the Pecocke tasteth best.
Begyled with apparances:
because her costly sayle
Is rare: and that a circled pryde
She beareth in her tayle.
As though that were materiall:
her feathers doste thou eate,
So gaye to thee? or is she ells,
in brothe the better meate?
The fleshe of bothe is muche alike:
thou loues the pecocke, tho,
Because of gallant gawyshe plumes:
well, lette it then be so.
The Dogge fyshe, that from Tyber cums,
or streame in Tuscus streete,
Why is it worse, then that, from sea
where wrastlynge waues doo meete?
O dotyng worlde, aboue the rest,
they loue the Mullet greate,
And yet doo mynce her smale and smale
before they doo her eate.
If syght make thynges excell,
Great Porposes, shoulde be in price:
na, sothely I can tell
Why they be not: this porpose fyshe,
with vs is euery where:
A mullet for the mincyng dames,
for that is rare and dere.
The temperate will litle eate
and feede of simple chere.
Some gluttons would eate greater fyshe,
to satisfye theyr mawes,
(Lyke hellyshe Harpies) from a panne,
with gredie gnawyng iawes.
But you, you wastefull southerne wyndes,
corrupt their viandes all:
It needes not muche: for bore or brytte,
dothe taste to them as galle.
When to muche hauocke hath them cloyde,
then gyn they sore to longe
For rapes, and Helicampane roote,
and doo the beggers wronge.
So kynges (to haue theyr courses iust)
Reiect not pore mens cates,
As egges, and oyle, with suche the lyke
receyude and vsde of states.
The heraulde Gallo for a dyshe
He vsde vppon a day,
Was yll rebukde. But they to blame:
for brittes fewe durste assay.
The Britte dyd scope abroade in seas,
The Storke dyd kepe her neste,
Before paunche pampryng Pretorie,
tolde howe they shoulde be dreste.
If some, the rolted cormoraunt,
delytefull woulde reporte,
would trye it for a sporte.
The couetous and sparynge man
we muste not note for one,
(As Ofell saythe) if thou, percase
from one synne wouldste be gone,
And therby happe into a worse,
that were a bootlesse case.
Canis, in whome for his deserte,
that name maye well take place,
Olde oliues, and the dogtree fruicte,
and lees of chaunged wyne,
And vyle vnpleasaunt greasye oyle,
to lothesome for a swyne.
(If he dyd feast his frende at home,
or kepe his natiue daye,
Or solemnise the tyme by chaunce,
in surly ryche araye.)
Abundance of suche corrupt stuffe,
Mongst his, he woulde outlaye.
What dyet shall the wyse man then,
twixte two contraries vse?
Shall he the trade of couetyse,
or prodigall refuse?
Replye.
Unspotted he, that kepes hym free,and leanes to neither syde.
Albutye.
He shall not be lyke Albutye,who, when he dothe deuyde,
His housholde charge, emongst his men,
himselfe wyll nothyng doo:
Neuye.
Nor yet lyke Neuie wayte at boorde,for that is foolyshe too.
Nowe lysten well, howe great the fruicts,
of sparyng diete be:
First good for healthe, for thys thou must,
perswade thy selfe with me:
And meates doo muche offende,
Though they be pleasant, yea and good,
yet, when thou doste them blende,
As, fyshe with fowle, roste meates with boylde,
to choler goes the sweete:
The moyst to fleume, for stomacke fleume
a guest is moste vnmete.
Agayne, the corps chargde with excesse,
dothe ouercharge the mynde,
Abandonyng to earthly thyngs,
the sowle of heauenly kynde.
The temperate may soone dispose
his membres to their reste,
And ryse agayne delyuerly,
to labour quicke and preste.
He shall be in the better plyte,
In tyme that happen may,
As when the yeare by compaste course,
shall bryng the pagiaunt day.
Or if he take confortatiues
to helpe hym at his neede:
For yeares wyll come, and crayse age.
who dayntily must feede.
In age, or sycknesse, what shall be,
delityng vnto thee?
Who haste preuented in thy youthe
suche pleasure as myght bee?
The rammyshe Bore, they wont to prayse,
not that they had no nose
To feele hym smell, but to this ende,
that he whiche dyd repose
Hym selfe with them, myght egerly
fall to, and eate his meate:
Because they woulde not gluttonlyke,
theyr whole prouision eate.
in suche an honeste tyme:
I loue well hospitalitie,
If riot cause not crime.
If thou doste stande in awe of verse,
or force a rymers reede:
Take heede suche sortes and subtilties
of cates wyll make thee neede.
Bothe shame and harme they wyll procure,
agayne, adde to this same,
Thy kynsmen wroth, thy frends made foes,
thy selfe foe to thy name.
Wyshyng for deathe, and shalt not dye,
but lyue to wayle and mone
Thy wanton wealth, thy beggers plight
thy treasures that be gone.
(Saythe tauntyng Tracy) maye not I
lay out my coyne at wyll?
My rentes come to me thicke and thicke,
my want is foyson styll,
Not three kynges can dispende with me,
who sayth, I may not spende?
Poet.
Therfore, the surplus of thy goodes
applye to better ende.
Why want the silly needie soules
refreshyng at thy hande?
Why doo the temples of the godds,
without repayryng stande?
Thou corsye carle, thy countrey dere,
from hougie substance, suche
Shall she haue naught? wylt onely thou
deuoure alone so muche?
O ieste, vnto thy very foes,
For, whether may haue more,
(If fortune frowne, and grefes growe on)
esperance to his store?
and freshe in gay attyre,
Or he: that dreading chaunce to cum,
a litle dothe desyre
And keepes it well, and warylye
to helpe in hopelesse tyde,
Lyke as the wyse, in golden peace
for stormye warre prouide.
For more beleefe in this behalfe,
I then a little boy
Can now reporte, that Ofellus,
put not so greate a ioy.
Nor pleasured so, in his cheefe wealthe,
as in his worste decay.
This was a common talke of his
when he bare greateste sway.
Als one to me: on woorkyday
I neuer coulde be taken
With better meate, in feelde or towne,
then roots or chimnye bacon.
I, and my sonnes, keepe thus in feilde,
our cattell seelde forsaken.
But if old acquaintaunce cum,
Who hath bene longe away
Or sum good honest neyghboure els,
through sleetie drisling daye,
Do cease from woorke, we mery make
not with suche costlie fyshe,
But with a chicken, or a kyd,
and grapes our seconde dishe,
A nutte, or els sum kynde of figge,
the table tayne awaye
We drincke about, and afterwarde
for Ceres giftes we pray.
So, flye awaye the freating cares,
that bringe the wimpled age,
and roste hyr selfe in rage,
She can not much empyre our cates:
my seruaunts haue not founde.
Their cheare much woorse sence Umbrenus
hath gotte away our grounde.
It matters not for nature gaue
not me this proper lande,
At firste, nor him, nor any els,
he chaste vs forth with hande,
His beastelynes will chase him out,
or sum expulsiue lawe,
Or els his heire that shall suruiue,
when he muste couche full lawe.
Now Umbrens grounde, of late Ofells
(a thing not very stable)
Now myne, now thyne, so muste we take,
the worlde as variable.
Let nothing cause your courage quayle,
in care be constante stille,
And bende your brestes to beare the blawes
of fortune that be ille.
| A Medicinable Morall | |