University of Virginia Library

A speach according to Horace.

Why yet my noble hearts they cannot say,
But we have Powder still for the Kings Day,
And Ord'nance too: so much as from the Tower
T'have wak'd, if sleeping, Spaines Ambassadour
Old Æsope Gundomar: the French can tell,
For they did see it the last tilting well,
That we have Trumpets, Armour, and great Horse,
Launces, and men, and some a breaking force.
They saw too store of feathers, and more may,
If they stay here, but till Saint Georges Day.
All Ensignes of a Warre, are not yet dead,
Nor markes of wealth so from our Nation fled,
But they may see Gold-Chaines, and Pearle worne then,
Lent by the London Dames, to the Lords men;
Withall, the dirtie paines those Citizens take,
To see the Pride at Court, their Wives doe make:
And the returne those thankfull Courtiers yeeld
To have their Husbands drawne forth to the field,
And comming home, to tell what acts were done
Under the Auspice of young Swynnerton.
What a strong Fort old Pimblicoe had beene!
How it held out! how (last) 'twas taken in!
Well, I say thrive, thrive brave Artillerie yard,
Thou Seed-plot of the warre, that hast not spar'd
Powder, or paper, to bring up the youth
Of London, in the Militarie truth,
These ten yeares day; As all may sweare that looke
But on thy practise, and the Posture booke:
He that but saw thy curious Captaines drill,
Would thinke no more of Vlushing, or the Brill:
But give them over to the common eare
For that unnecessarie Charge they were
Well did thy craftie Clerke, and Knight, Sir Hugh
Supplant bold Panton; and brought there to view
Translated Ælian tactickes to be read,
And the Greeke Discipline (with the moderne) shed
So, in that ground, as soone it grew to be
The Cittie-Question, whether Tilly, or he,
Were now the greater Captaine? for they saw
The Berghen siege, and taking in Breda,
So acted to the life, as Maurice might,
And Spinola have blushed at the sight,
O happie Art! and wise Epitome
Of bearing Armes! most civill Soldierie!
Thou canst draw forth thy forces, and fight drie
The Battells of thy Aldermanitie;
Without the hazard of a drop of blood:
More then the surfets, in thee, that day stood,
Goe on, increast in vertue; and in fame:
And keepe the Glorie of the English name,
Up among Nations. In the stead of bold
Beauchamps, and Nevills, Cliffords, Audley's old;
Insert thy Hodges, and those newer men.

Waller.

As Stiles, Dike, Ditchfield, Millar, Crips, and Fen:
That keepe the warre, though now't be growne more tame
Alive yet, in the noise; and still the same
And could (if our great men would let their Sonnes
Come to their Schooles,) show'hem the use of Guns.
And there instruct the noble English heires
In Politique, and Militar Affaires;
But he that should perswade, to have this done
For education of our Lordings; Soone
Should he heare of billow, wind, and storme,
From the Tempestuous Grandlings, who'll informe
Us, in our bearing, that are thus, and thus,
Borne, bred, allied? what's he dare tutor us?
Are we by Booke-wormes to be awde? must we
Live by their Scale, that dare doe nothing free?
Why are we rich, or great, except to show
All licence in our lives? What need we know?
More then to praise a Dog? or Horse? or speake
The Hawking language? or our Day to breake
With Citizens? let Clownes; and Tradesmen breed
Their Sonnes to studie Arts, the Lawes, the Creed:
We will beleeve like men of our owne Ranke,
In so much land a yeare, or such a Banke,
That turnes us so much moneys, at which rate
Our Ancestors impos'd on Prince and State.
Let poore Nobilitie be vertuous: Wee,
Descended in a rope of Titles, be
From Guy, or Bevis, Arthur, or from whom
The Herald will. Our blood is now become,
Past any need of vertue. Let them care,
That in the Cradle of their Gentrie are;
To serve the State by Councels, and by Armes:
We neither love the Troubles, nor the harmes.
What love you then? your whore? what study? gate,
Carriage, and dressing. There is up of late?
The Academie, where the Gallants meet—
What to make legs? yes, and to smell most sweet,
All that they doe at Playes. O, but first here
They learne and studie; and then practise there.
But why are all these Irons i'the fire
Of severall makings? helps, helps, t' attire
His Lordship. That is for his Band, his haire
This, and that box his Beautie to repaire;
This other for his eye-browes; hence, away,
I may no longer on these pictures stay,
These Carkasses of honour; Taylors blocks,
Cover'd with Tissue, whose prosperitie mocks
The fate of things: whilst totter'd vertue holds
Her broken Armes up, to their emptie moulds.