University of Virginia Library

The Authors Anagram.

Richarde Brathwaite.
Vertu hath bar Credit.

This Ile auow, (for it is I that said it)
If Vertue haue no coine, she has no Credit.

TO THE WORTHILIE esteemed the true Character of a Generous disposition, Sir Thomas Gainsford Knight, his Vertues endeered Admiror, wisheth fulnesse of content in the Dedication of these his Anagrams extracted from his Name, and concording with his Nature.

To his much honoured and endeered Mecœnas (the expressiu'st Character of a generous Spirit) iudicious approuer of best-meriting Poesie, Guerdoner of Arts, cherisher of Wittes, and serious Protectour of all free-borne Studies, Mr. Thomas Posthvmvs Diggs, the Author humbly dedicates himselfe, his Time-suting Epigrams with the vse of his diuinely importing Anagram

Anagramma.
Thomas Posthumus Digges.
Though time passe, God summs.

Another Anagram.

Two verses including the Anagram.

Pvblique and priuate men in young and ag't,
on whom most hope is, thē we deem most gagt.
At you (faire mirrour) aime I; you'r my scope,
Much are you gag't vnto your Contries hope.

To his BOOKE.

Booke whither goes thou, I had rather haue thee
To stay still with me, for my Booke may saue me:
Saue me, its true, and that's the cause I craue
Thou'de to the world, that thou the world might saue;
But that's a taske (my booke) too hard for thee,
Bid hang the world so that thou wilt saue me:
Yet pray thee be aduis'd whom thou dost checke,
For speaking truth may chance to break thy necke.
Which to preuent, let this be vnderstood,
Great men though ill they must be stiled good,
Their blacke is white, their vice is vertue made:
But 'mongst the base call still a spade a spade;
If thou canst thus dispense (my booke) with crimes,
Thou shalt be hugg'd and honour'd in these times.

The Epistle Dedicatorie.

TO THE TRVE DISCOUERER of secrets Mounsieur Bacchus, sole

Soueraigne of the Iuy-bush, Master-gunner of the pottle-pot ordinance, prime founder of Red lattices, cheerer of the hunger-staru'd Muses, and their thred bare followers, singuler Artist in pewter language, and an obseruant linguist for anon anon Sir.

Bottle-nos'd Bacchus with thy bladder face,
To thee my Muse comes reeling for a place:
And craues thy Patronage; nor do I feare,
But my poore fragments shall be made of there,
For good reuersions by thy scrambling crew,
That belch, and reade, and at each enteruiew
Of a sharpe temper'd line, commend the valne,
Digest it, and then rift it vp againe;
But know thou cup shot god, what is exprest,
Within these Pages doe deserue the best
Of thy light-headed Shamroes, nor's my tutch
For such as loue to take a cup too-much.
No, no my lines (though I did seeme to stand,
And begge a poore protection at thy hand,)
Shall liue in spite of Time, for Time shall see
The curtaine of her vices drawne by me;
And though portraide by a lesse art-full fist,
Yet he that limm'd them is a Satyrist,
For th' lines he writes (if ought he write at all)
Are drawne by inke that's mixed most with gall.
Yea, he was borne, euen from his infancie,
To tell the world her shame, and bitterly
To taxe those crimes which harbour now and then
Within the bosomes of the greatest men.
“Yea, nought I doe but I againe will doe it,
“Nor ought will write, but I will answer to it:
Yet would I not, great Bacchus, haue thee thinke
My Muse can into that obliuion sinke,
As to become forgetfull so of thee,
(For so she might vnthankfull seeme to be)
As neuer to record thy worthy Name
Since I confesse from thee that spirit came,
Which first inspir'd my Muse (by thee exprest)
For when she spoke the least, she wrot the best.
Yea, thou it was, (and so Ile euer hold,)
That quickned me and made me speake more bold;
By that rare quintessence drawne from the vine,
Or from those fluent Hogges-head pipes of thine.
And I doe thanke thee: yet thus much Ile say,
For any kindnesse showne me anie waie,
By thee, or thy attendants, I may sweare
Not any one did euer yet appeare:
Nay, I could say (and truly too) far more
I neuer ran ten shillings on thy skore,
Which may seem strange, that I which am so grown
Into acquaintance, and to thee well knowne:
“Should in thy booke haue such a diffidence,
As not be chalkt for want of ready pence;
Nay, there's an other reason I could shew,
Which might infer that thou dost duty owe
To men of our profession, and its this;
(If my conceipt make me not thinke amisse.)
Tell me, Where hadst thou Iuie-bush, say where?
Which as thine ancient liv'rie thou dost weare;
That garland-sure me-thinks that I should know it,
From th' Temples sure of some pot-hardy Poet;
Who, cause he had not wherewithall to pay,
VVas forc't to leaue his Garland, or to stay
Till some of's Patrons pittied his estate:
But he, poore man, cleere out of hope of that
Hauing discust it often in his minde,
Did think't more fit to leaue his wreath behinde,
Then into such apparant danger fall,
And so did vnto one of th' Drawers call
To tell thee, if thou would'st be so content,
He would engage his Iuie-ornament;
Which thou being glad of, for thy priuate vse
Wore it thy selfe, and cheat'd the Poet thus.
Now doest thou thinke, that we can brooke to haue
One of our sort thus iniur'd by a slaue,
Without all satisfaction: Bacchus no,
Vse't to thy groomes, we'le not be baffelt so.
Make restitution of thy bush againe,
And lie thy wreath about the Poets braine.
Or satisfie his damage in some sort,
“Or be thou sure that thou shalt answer for't.
But thou wilt lightly weigh such threats as these,
And say thou canst bring vs vpon our knees
By th' power of thy commaund: true thou canst so,
Yet (bleere ey'de Bacchus) I would haue thee know
That we do so esteeme thy power and all
Thy followers, we'le vent thee 'gainst the wall:
Yea euen the kennell shall a witnesse be,
Of the small respect which we do beare to thee.
Resigne then what thou owest, or forbeare,
To taxe our credits when our skore's not cleere.
For well may'st thou forbeare both them and me,
Since thou dost owe vs more, then we owe thee.
Thou know'st it Bacchus (if so thou wilt knowe it)
That garland which thou weares, it was a Poet
That first empaund it, and thou like a Iewe
VVilt not restore to him what is his due.
But thou wilt answer (as I know thou may)
Yea, I imagine what tis thou canst say:
“Bacchus cares not for outward signes a rush,
“Good wine needs not the hanging of a bush.
Dost not thou vizzard-fac't ingratefull Elfe?
Yes, for want of a bush thou'd hang thy selfe.
And caper like a zumglian (ô my malice
Bursts out against thee) titted vnder the gallowes.
For tell me how should men distinguish thee?
Thou'lt say by thy fire-sparkling phisnomie,
Those wink-apipes of thine, those ferret eies,
Those bag-pipe cheeks, those speciall qualities
Thou art endew'd with: true by th' first th' art known,
But for thy qualities thou hast not one
To glory in: for speeches ornament
Anon, anon sir:—peutor complement
Is all thou canst, and this, thou knowest is such,
As th' Iay or Parrat they can doe as much;
But I am loath to taxe each crime of thine,
For I do know thou lou'st the Muses nine,
And they loue thee, yet it is fit their vs'd
With more respect, then to be once abus'd
By any apron-prentice that thou hast:
Yea, fit it is not they should be out-fac't
By such vnletterd Animals as these,
But reuerence the Muses on their knees,
For what be these attend thee, such as lost
Their tongue to gaine two or three words at most,
As for example neate and briske, and then
Anon, anon sir, welcome gentlemen.
And is it fit that swads of such desert
Should stay the very quintessence of art
For a non-payment? or make Sergeants stand
In a crosse-lane to laie vnhallowed hand
On Albions Mercuries? no, its not fit
That Hypocrenes pure riuelings of wit,
Should haue their streame with honour doubled)
By such base tenter-hooks once troubled.
Let this be then amended (and with haste)
Lest some of these professors should be plac't,
Before thy prohibition come to stay
Thy will-for in, they'le hardlie get awaie.
But if I heare thee Bacchus after this
That thou arrests but any one I wish
Thou should'st exempt I will reuenged be
Ere many daies, of some of thine or thee.
And thanks vnto my Genius (as I craue it)
Without inuention further now I haue it.
And thus it is: Ile to the Peuterer
To make thy quart pots greater then they were;
And so condition with him, as't may be
Thou wilt confesse one day I begar'd thee:
Or if I cannot by my meanes intreate
Thy pottle-pots for to be made more great
Then th' order is, or th' Citties stampe allowes,
I hope I shall preuaile with some of those
Who are appointed by their charge to know,
Whether thy pots be sealed yea or no,
That such as are not seal'd they would reueale them,
And not take bribes in priuate to conceale them:
Or if this will not serue, I will deuise
How to bring th' potts vnto a larger size;
Which if they do neglect but to performe,
According to that Nature and that forme
They are prescrib'd, then on default they shall
Make presently a forfeiture of all,
(Which goods confiscate for their great abuse,
May afterward redound vnto the vse
Of all such noble skinkers (by confession)
As were deceiv'd by men of this profession;
But this's not all Ile doe: Bacchus shall knowe
His naprie-drawers shall not end it so.
Surueighers shall be-gett (and well may be)
(For worser trades haue sought monopolye;
And rais'd their state by't) which shall strictly take
Examination, whether you do make
Your pottles to be bruis'd, bough'd, crusht, & bent
Vpon set purpose and for this intent,
That you thereby (which is a common crime)
Might fill your crazie pots with lesser wine,
For lesser will they hold, through your deceit,
Being drawne in and made by you more straite:
Yet haue I left the Coopers all this while,
Which I do know haue some art to beguile.
And therefore, if all will not serue; Ile seeke
And bribe them too, to make your vessels leeke.
Yea, beside this (know Bacchus) I'ue a meane,
Which put in practice will vndoe thee cleane,
And thus I lay my proiect: Ile expresse
What motiues there be of licentiousnesse,
Within thy brothel closures, and with-all
Complaine of thy partitions, how the fall
Of many a simple Virgine (though shee's loath,
To do't poore-wench) coms from a painted cloath,
A curtaine, or some hanging of like sort,
Which done god-wot, they'ue cause to curse thee for't.
And that this might better preuented be,
I will prefer petition instantly,
That thou nor none of thine should suffer thence,
(for to auoide this inconuenience)
Any of different sexes being but payres,
To goe in priuate manner vp the staires:
And this I know (if that my aime be right,
VVill goe well nie to ouerthrow thee quite.
If none of these will doe, yet sure I am
There is a creature call'd the Puritan,
Who'le ferret thee, and by a strict surueigh
Fine thee for bouzing on the Sabboath day,
VVhich if they finde, the Righteous they will curse
Though their example it be ten times worse.
But I would haue thee to represse all this,
VVhich thou shalt do by doing what I wish,
And that with reason, which (as I haue sayd it)
Is but to giue to our profession credit:
They'le pay the man, and if the world goe hard,
VVith them at this time, yet they'le afterward,
Regratulate thy loue (paying th' old skore)
VVhich paide they will make bolde to run on more.
For tell me Bacchus, though the world appeare
To learned men as if no learning were:
And that the golden age (not as it was)
Smiles on the silken foole, or golden Asse;
Yet time will come (yea now it doth begin
To shew it selfe (as former times haue been)
VVhen wise Minerua shall no honour lacke,
For all the foole, whose honour's on his backe.
But I shall stagger Bacchus if I stay
Longer with thee, therefore Ile packe awaie
Vnto thy sister Ceres:—I haue sayd
—Onely looke to thy plate, for all is paide.

To the Queene of Haruest, daughter and heire to Saturne,

and Ops, Goddesse of the Cornesheafe, Ladie Soueraignenesse of the three Vales, Efam, Beuar and White-horse, Inuentres of the Sith, Sickle, and weeding-Hooke: much honoured by the Reede, Corne-Pipe, and Whistle; and with all obseruance attended by Hobnaile and his company.

Haile fruitfull Ladie, cheerer of our time,
Rare in thy bewtie, in thy state diuine,
Ripener of Haruest, thou it is whose birth
Yields full encrease vnto the fertile earth:
Thou art that cheering mother that renues
The Plow-mans hope, and giues their toile those dewes,
Which makes them happie, may my Poems please
Thy honourd selfe, that glads vs with encrease:
Yet in my mirth I cannot but repine
At that vnhappy ackward losse of thine,
That thou which euer hast been debonaire,
Faire in thy selfe, making our fields as faire,
With thy ender'd respect, should be exilde,
Of due content, by loosing of thy childe,
Thy heart, thy hope, thy loue, and thy delight,
Thy deare Proserpina, whose vowe is plight
Vnto, alasse I cannot speake it well,
That black-blacht-blabber-lipt foule Prince of hell.
Yet be contented, manie one there bee,
Yea I know som which may lament with thee
For their straide daughters, who I much doe feare
Are lodged now, or will be lodged there.
Lasse it is nothing for maides now adaies
For which of them (though modest) hath not straies,
In youth, in age, which straying I doe call,
Dotage in maides, and that is worst of all.
How manie haue wee in this error swerud,
Who in themselues haue iustly wel deserud.
That punishment thy daughter first regainde,
'Las I haue known them though they seem containd
In modest bounds, yet thus much I will say,
Thy daughter was vnchast & so were they.
And (pray thee Ceres) credit me in this,
Though my proceeding was not to my wish,
Yet this to thy due comfort I must tell,
Thy daughter doth not liue in Hell
Without acquaintance, yea I know there are,
Though they in sumptuous raiment and in fare
Seeme to excell the worthies of our Land,
Yet being iustly poized vnder hand,
They are as neere to Pluto and his heire,
As if those persons that lesse gorgeous were,
May I speake more, for I am in a vaine,
To cull strange things out of a stragling braine,
That there's no wench truly ingenious,
Wittie by nature, or ambitious
In her conceipt, but that the time will come,
That she will wander full as farre from home,
As ere thy deare Proserpina distraide,
Transform'd from beauty of a louely maide,
To be a drudge ('lasse I am forc't to tell)
Vnto the base-borne Skinkird bred in Hell.
Doe I not know thee Ceres? yes, I know
Far more of thee, then I intend to shew
In publique eie: 'Lasse I doe know thy worth,
To be the fruitfull Mother of the earth,
Albions faire-Fostermother, yea that Queen,
That makes a hopefull Haruest to be seene.
Within our flourie Fields: if I might say,
What I in due respect am bound alwaie
For to expresse I might example thee,
To be the glorie of our progenie;
Honour of ages, and successe of time,
Errecting to thy selfe that noble shrine,
Which nere shall be defaced by time or age,
The best of labour in our Pilgrimage.
Then Ceres let thy daughter work, for one
Thou art in due respect admir'd alone
To be the soueraignesse of Albions Ile,
Who when retired braines doe sleep the while,
Shalt shew thy selfe worthy a sacred power,
Though thy vaine daughter play in hell the whore,
Yea fit it is, and suting to her birth,
She should play baud in hell plaid whore on earth.

To the Amarous Queene of Delights,

Sole Empresse of loue-sicke Bedlams, profes'd patronesse to all young Letchers, Foundresse of Midnights Reuels, Sentinell to many a crackt Maidenhead, and sole Benefactor to all lasciuious Nouices; Best habilimented by her Coach drawne with foure Turtles, bearing for her armes a Pricke in the midst of a Center, with this Motto;
Pungimur in Medio.
And on the other side a woman-captiue (instanced in Penthisilæa) with this word,
Vincitur a victo, victor.

Cherry-lipt Uenus with thy dimpled Chin,
Who by our Letchers, honourd still hast bin:
For a braue trading damsell, though't may seeme,
By my neglect of thee, that I haue cleane
Descarded thee and thine, yet thou shalt know it;
Venus hath some aliance with a Poet,
And that a neere one too: for pray thee say,
Who can expresse thy bewty anie way,
So well as they? and though they onely write,
hauing nere hap to come to more delight;
Yet art thou much endeared to their Art,
Though they can say nought for the practick part:
Yet mongst our Albion Sibils that are more,
In number far, then merit, wit, or power.
Some I doe know, euen of the pregnant'st men,
That loue to trade with Venus now and then.
And this the cause why they obserue that vse,
(As I haue heard) for to enflame their Muse:
And some I could produce, had their desire;
For they, their Muse, and all were on a fire.
More could I write to touch thee neerer'th quick,
But as thou loues those stroakes are short & thick.
So I desire the very same to be
In writing out that is concerning thee.

An Heroycke Embleme vpon the Warriour called Honora.

Tara, Tantara, Honours signall come,
VVhose best of Musicke is the warlike Drumme,
Come braue Tyndarian spirit, heare thy glorie,
Shrouded too long in pitchie darke, whose storie,
Shall shine and shew it selfe more faire, more bright,
Then chast Larona on the sablest night.
Now art thou much admird by euery eie,
Though lately vassald to captiuitie.
Now art thou showne to be a Monument,
Of former glorie, and an ornament,
Fit for the eare of Kings, now art thou one,
Highly esteemed, that was of late as none.
Now canst thou shew thy merit and desert,
To be deriued from a royall heart.
Not chafd with perfumes, like a Carpet Knight,
That cannot fight but in his Ladies sight.
Not sick ofth fashions, (like this amorous frie
Of Nouice, who nere knew Enemie)
Saue their disdainefull Mistres: not enthrald
To loue, for loue thou knowst not how its cald.
VVhat stile it has, or what be louers charmes,
Saue that pure loue which thou dost beare to Armes.
Not seruile to each apish complement,
Saue Honours seruice, and VVarres mannagement.
Not slaue to Fortune, nor engagd to fate,
But heire to resolution, an estate
More eminent and glorious to thy selfe,
Then all the misers-Mammons mouldred-pelfe,
Not vaine like proud of Titles, but hast Art,
To make thy waie to Honour by Desert.
Not gage to prostitution, for the name
Of Souldiour hate such an ignoble staine.
Not lure to lucre, but dost make thy blood,
An instrument vnto thy countries good:
Not in appearance, or in outward show,
To seem to know what thou didst neuer know,
Not humorous, occasioning offence,
But with pure valour mixing patience;
That two reduc't to one, one drawen from two,
Might make thee apt to speake, & prompt to doe.
Long hast thou slept, and some did thinke it ill
To wake thee, but to let thee sleepe on still.
But how can resolution lie inter'd
Alas how far haue vulgar iudgements er'd?
To thinke the senselesse? No, thou didst but winke,
For to obserue what other men would thinke
Of thy retired silence, now thou hast
Rub'd ore thy gummie eies, & runnes as fast
To thy intendements forct from coast to coast,
As willing to redeeme what thou hast lost.
Hallow amaine, downe by the flowrie vale
Of honour and renowne display thy saile,
Trample on Bastard greatnesse, bruite their shame,
That are esteemed onely great in name,
Without demerit, tell them worth should be
Drawn from our selues, not from our familie.
Bid them wipe of that painting from their cheeke,
Its too effeminate and bid them feeke,
Actions that seeme them better, its not amber,
Sleeking, or chafing in a Ladies chamber,
Phantastick humors, amorous conceipts,
Fashion inuentors sinne seducing baits,
What such a Mounseyr wore, or what Tyres be
Of eminent request in Italie.
No, no, our perfum'd Gallants now must looke,
Like to the sonnes of Valour, smer'd with smoke,
Steeled with spirit, arm'd with best of youth,
Directly planted 'fore a Cannons mouth.
Shake not (my dapper Courtier) though thou heare
Nought but the voice of thunder euery where:
Or if the noise of armes breed in thee feare,
(No lesse then death) go on and stop thine eare?
Bouge not a foot (or if thou feare to kill)
Winke, and then say, thou murders gainst thy will.
How likest thou this? This is no camp for loue,
Nor must thy wreath be heere a Ladies gloue.
Anticke and apish fashions will not serue,
In this enobled field, such as deserue,
By a peculiar merit shall receiue
The Guerdon of their Valour, and in Graue
Shall finde a liuing monument, which men
Admiring much, shall euer honour them.
And is not this a nobler monument,
Then spend our time in fruitlesse complements.
Spend a whole age in making of a legge,
Or seeking how some office we may begge.
Trading for vndeserued Honour, got
By seruile meanes, and by the simplest sot,
That knowes not Honours essence, O may I
Rather then be so Honor'd wish to dye
In the obscurest manner, that when Time
Shall shroud my ashes in a homely shrine,
Some earthy vrne, yet may my memorie
Liue without reach of enuie after me.
Sacred Bellona, valours choicest Saint,
For now by thee flie we vnto our tent.
Infuse true resolution in the minde
Of thy professors, that their spirits may finde
What difference there is in honours sight,
Twixt a good Souldier and a carpet-Knight.
His perfume's powder, and his harmonie
Reports of Cannons, for his brauerie,
Barded with steele and Iron, for the voice,
Of amorous Ganimedes, the horrid noise
Of clattering armour, for a Downie bed
The chill cold ground, for pillow to their head,
Tinckt with muske Roses, Target and their shield,
For gorgeous Roomes, the purprise of the field,
For nimble capring, Marching, for the tune
Of mouing consorts, striking vp a drumme,
For dainties, hunger; thus is honour fed,
VVith labour got, and care continued.
Can this content my Courtier? yes, it may,
VVhen his laciuious night and fruitles day,
His manie idle howers employed worse,
(Though better deem'd) then such whose vagrant course
Incurs a penal censure; shall be past,
And he with whip of conscience throughly lash't,
Shall bid adue to Ladie vanitie
To Courts applause, to humors phantasie,
To honours vndeseru'd, to parasites,
To fashions-brocage, and to all delights.
VVhich reape no fruit, no guerdon, nor reward,
Saue care on earth, repentance afterward:
VVhere Iustice oft is forc't from her intent.
Goodnesse being onely cause of punishment.
Where violence (so strong be great men growne)
Makes right supprest', and iustice ouerthrowne.
VVhere sinnes in cloth of Tissue faire descri'de,
Make that wise Sages Axiome verifi'de.
“A great mans foe oft by experience proues,
“Of all that be, no thunder like to Ioues.
Heere Magistrates are clad in violet,
Because pure Iustice they doe violate.
Here vice is mounted, vertue liues despis'd,
The worst esteem'd, the better meanely priz'd.
Corruption rides on foote-cloth, (some auerre)
And vpright dealing shee does lackie her.
Honour's afraide of Sergeants, merits sad,
And liues as one without obseruance had.
VVisdom's out of request, for temperance,
Shee's neuer knowne but in a Moris daunce.
And purple Iustice seldom's seene to passe,
To any Court, but riding one an Asse.
VVhat then but valour should support the State,
And make a Realme by vice growne desolate.
See her owne shame, and in her shame conceiue,
The blest memorial of an happie graue,
“On then with honour, let the vsurer
Made stiffe with plenty, feele the shock of war,
And tremble, fearing least' should be his lot,
To loose by warre what his oppression got.
Let the prophane contemner of Gods power
Be mou'd by terrour, let the Paramour,
Glaz'd with a shamelesse fore head leaue her sinne.
The youthfull Prodigall, those nets hee's in.
Let the prodigious state-engrosser feele,
What harme h'as done vnto the Common-weale.
Let th' aspiring birth of Dathan see,
The end of them, and their conspiracie.
Let all lasciuious Minions hence reclaime,
Their odious liues, and put on robes of shame.
Let publique Haxsters (now the most of all)
That in their heat, would quarrell for the wall,
Stand to their Tacklings, let both youth and age,
Show distinct worths in distant Equipage.
Lead on Honora, that in time report,
May make a Campe Knight gracious in the Court.
So noblest minds in best of Actions showne,
May challenge Honour when it is their owne.

Upon the Generall Sciolists or Poettasters of Britannie.

A Satyre.

Come Arethuse come, for nere had we,
At any time a greater need of thee.
No Lawrell now, but Nettle's best to grace
Our Laureat Poet see his vncouth face,
Vnapt for poesie: his strange disguise,
Onely addrest (in Verse) to Temporize:
Now Parasites proue Poets, and expresse
Their oyly workes: for what is more or lesse
Dilated on, is consecrate to men,
That are the greatest: O what need is then,
To thee (deere Arthuse) that didst frame,
A Poet to the nature of his name?
No time-obseruing smooth fac'd sycophant,
No strange conceited Asse whose Element
Is to insinuate vnder the shade
Of a great Mounseyrs elbow, thour't prou'd Iade
To thy profession, not a saffron band,
But like a roaring boye, can make thee stand
And yeeld obseruance to him: silly foole,
That Artlesse idiots should bring to schoole,
The best of Muses, thou that once wast borne,
Not as our great Acteons, to the horne
Of their dishonour, (being of ioy bereft)
Leauing to others what themselues haue left.
(Worse by degrees then was that Phœbus Car,
Which Phaeton by rash attempts did marre:
And cleere dissolues) lasse see thy Trophies torne,
Thy statues razed: and that Mount forlorne
Which first possest the Muses: now no wreath
Can be hung vp to memorize the death
Of any great man, why for vertues due,
Bids euery Poet (in his verse) speake true
Of such as are deceased: its true, who then
Speaking no more then truth, can praise such men,
As rather were then liu'd? being, but not
In reall essence, las what fame is got
By such as write of these (whose onely good)
Is to auerre they were of Noble bloud.
But so much disproportion'd to their name,
As what they seem'd, they seldome were the same.
The same; O noe, their garish ornament,
Their wanton guise, their Loue-sicke complement,
Their strange distractions, their deformed state,
Transform'd from English to Italienate,
Expresse small comfort to a Poets penne,
Which onely should delight in shewing them
Vnto the worlds eye, whose fame succeedes,
And makes them Noble by Heroicke deedes,
Drawen from the line of Honour: but how farre
Seeme Poets in these latter times to erre?
Who write not for respect, or due esteeme,
Had to their owne profession, but to gaine
The fauour of a great one, this it is,
Giues priuiledge to men that doe amisse:
Such be our ranke of Poets now adayes,
As they adorne th' Immerited with praise
Aboue desert. Hence is it that we bring
The Art of Poetry to Ballading.
Hence is it, that the Courtier may intend
A strange pretended proiect for no end,
Saue to augment's expence, a suites begun,
Which makes a silly Farmer quite vndone,
Without all hope of composition: l'asse
That such transgressions should so freely passe,
Without controulement. Many we haue heere,
That can compose their Verse, but in a sphere
So different to the time, as they descry
Their want of braines to each iudicious eye.
Yea some I know are Poets in this time
Who write of swains, might write as well of swine,
For th' profit of their labours is so small,
As t'were farre better not to write at all,
Then to consume such pretious time in vaine,
About a fruitlesse, and desertlesse straine:
Better indeed: when in their Makers sight,
They must accomptants be of what they write,
Whose eyes be purer, and extension beare,
Aboue th' Dimension of a common sphere.
Yet ranke I not (as some men doe suppose)
These worthlesse swaines amongst the laies of those
Time-honour'd Shepheards (for they still shall be)
As well they merit) honoured of mee,
Who beare a part, like honest faithfull swaines,
On witty Wither neuer-withring plaines,
For these (though seeming Shepheards) haue deseru'd,
To haue their names in lasting Marble caru'd:
Yea this I know I may be bold to say,
Thames ner'e had swans that song more sweet than they.
It's true I may auow't, that nere was song,
Chanted in any age by swains so young,
With more delight then was perform'd by them,
Pretily shadow'd in a borrowed name.
And long may Englands Thespian springs be known
“By louely Wither and by bonny Browne,
Whilest solid Seldon, and their Cuddy too,
Sing what our (Swaines of old) could neuer doe.
Yea I do hope, sith they so well can write,
Of Shep-heards sport, and of the fields delight.
That when they come to take a view of th' Court,
(As some haue done) and haue bin mew'd vp for't,
They'l tell her freely, (as full well they may)
That in their Iudgements, after due suruay,
Of th' Court & th' Cottage, they may well maintain,
Vices in the Court, but vertues in the Swaine;
And happy be those Authors which doe giue
Vertue and vice their titles, they shall liue
In spite of Enuie, when such men as teach
That such be onely vertuous as be rich,
Shall lye inter'd, where fame shall neuer finde them,
For such doe seldome leaue a name behind them.
Lasse they must dye and perish, so must we,
Nor can we gaine ought of eternity:
Saue that we liue, Oh then how blest are they
That spend their life in weighing of their daies.
But of professants, which compose their song
To a strange descant! this Ile say they wrong
Flowrie Parnassus, where such vsed to be,
As in themselues made one set company.
These sung not what they knew not, but in Verse,
What time had taught them they vse to rehearse,
And to reduce it to one perfect forme,
Striuing by proper figures to adorne
Ech worke, ech composition: but lasse now
How farre's that alteration? where we know
Lest that we write, adding to our estate
(Begg'd meerely) by a great mans Dedicate.
Heere is no substance, but a simple peece
Of gaudy Rhetoricke: Which if it please,
Yeelds th' Author dear-contentment: thus we straine
The Muses Text for a peculiar gaine
Vnto our selues: hence is it vice abides,
(And lording-like in silken foot-cloath rides.)
Hence is it Land-lords make their tenants slaues:
Hence is it waste-goods ope their fathers graues:
Hence is it Mammonists adore their golde:
Hence is't the impious to perdition solde:
Hence Sacriledge a priuiledge obtaines:
Hence th' sneking Lawyer by his Clyent gaines:
Hence th' Politician, what so ere befall,
Will to his trade and shew a Machiuell.
Hence imposts rise extortions violence,
Graced by men that haue most eminence.
Hence Sergeants walk vnfrōted (though they know it)
No friend is worse then Sergeant to a Poet.
Hence painted faces (like ill wine in caske)
Shrow'd their deform'd complexions vnder maske.
Hence curious Courtiers, gorgeously arrayd,
Weare more vpon their backe then ere was paide:
Hence th' baudie Pandor, seruile to his whore,
And hence the Baude that keeps the traders dore;
Hence base informers take their borrowed light,
Liuing like Owles that vse to flie by night:
Hence wanton Prodigals that spend their state,
And 'gin repentance when it is too late.
Hence young and old, hence each in their degree,
Challenge to them a due Monopolie.
O how Mineruas temple's now disgrac't,
By th' skum of Poetry! she that was plac't
Once like th' Ephesian Queene in a pure shrine
Of honour and delight, now's forc't to pine.
And languish in her bewty, being deprest,
By such men most, whom she suspecteth lest.
Vnpiniond Muses (such as nere could flie)
Further then vnplum'd birds now presse as high
As Eagles; which by the Colour you may know,
As eminent and cleere as Elaccus Crow:
These steale selected flowres from others wit,
And yet protest their nature brookes not it,
They are (for both) so inuented by their art,
Making their pen the displayer of their heart.
They brooke no Brocage, yet has workes in presse,
VVhich they are guiltlesse of? but this were lesse,
VVorthy reproofe, if in their gleaned lines,
Like our age Criticks they would curbe these times
For petulancie: but so vaine be they,
As they runne still in that high beaten way
Of errour, by directing men amisse,
Penning whole volumes of licentiousnesse,
Descanting on my Ladies Rosie lip,
Her Cinthian eie, her bending front, her trip,
Her bodies motion, notion of her time,
All which they weaue vp in a baudy Rime.
For since there's no obseruance, Accent neither
(Sith sence and accent seldome goe together.)
O what aspersions doe these lay on her,
VVho beares the onely natiue character.
Of her deere issues merit, shee I meane,
VVithout whose nourishment we had not been,
She without whose embrace, the solid earth,
Had quite interr'd the honour of our birth:
She without whom we haue no biding place,
No mansion, no repose: she by whose grace
We are inhabitants, planted in rest,
Sucking pure milke out of her tender brest.
She whose our Guardian gouerning our state
Shoring our weaknesse, arming vs 'gainst fate,
Guiding our path-lesse passage, brething life
Into our dulnesse: midiating strife,
Because (a peacefull mother) chering vs
With solace, when deprest, tricking our Muse,
VVith seemly subiects (that whil'st shepheards sing)
Of rurall pastimes, midst their sonneting,
The grauer ranke might compositions make,
Not for themselues but for their countries sake:
Alasse poore countrie; where is all that store
Of diuine wits that thou hast bred before?
VVhere is that Quint-essence of poesie,
That in (fore-times) was wont to breath on thee:
Like a coole Zephirus? Hybles pure mount,
Renowm'd in former ages and that Fount,
Of sacred Castalie lie desolate.
For they with theirs haue lost their former state
Of Greatnesse: no proportion nor no flower
Decks, with a dasie Border, that sweet Bower
Where Cinthia vs'd to reuell: but as th' port
Of house-keeping is now transport'd to Court,
“Leauing their Country-houses, which men looke
“And gase at long ere they can see them smoke:
So fruitfull Hesperie, which vs'd to be
The Ren-de uou for sacred poesie
Leuing to be her selfe, shuts vp her dore?
Hence is the bankrout poet becom'd poore:
Hence is't hee's forc't to write not for the ease
Of his owne minde (but as his Patrons please.)
Hence ist that errors must be V'ertues deem'd,
Because, poore Poet, its by Fate ordain'd,
That if he will not humour, he must sterue:
“For Great-men loue not heare what they deserue.
How iealous be our times of their deserts,
When they suppresse the eminence of arts?
Making them speechlesse whereas we do see,
If persons were dispos'd as they should be;
Their sincere conscience (like a brazen wall)
Might beare them vp what euer should befall.
Then might our Satyre mixe his inke with gal,
But with his mixture do no hurt at all.
Then might our scepticke giue his iudgement free,
yet do small harme to mens integritie.
Then might the Lawyer pleade without offence;
Not seare his Conscience with a faire pretence
Of doing good, when his corrupted will
Vnder pretence of good, acts what is ill.
Then might the diuels Factors liue like men,
That haue a god, nor for the hundred ten;
Receiuing with aduantage need'd they pay,
A greater summe at that same latter daie,
VVhen due accompts are had: ô vsurie
That art the Cities scourge, how much haue we
Occasion to proscribe thee from our land,
Since by thy meanes haue we felt heauens hand
More heauy and reuenging then before,
VVhose wrath has vialls euer laid in store
To punish impious men: its thou (fowle sin)
Which hast hal'd downe the infection we haue seene
Rage in this famous Ile: its thou whose hight
Hath turn'd our day of comfort to a night
Of great affliction: for who more can be
Afflicted in himselfe, then inwardly
Feeling the worme of Conscience gnawing him
Torment consorting with that birth of sinne
VVherein he's nurtured: alas poore Ile!
That thou shouldst foster such as do defile
Thy once renowmed borders with the hate
Of a supernall power, making thy state
Pray to oppression, vassalling thy fame
(VVhich once was glorious) to thy odious name
Of miserie: Great Albion now is growne
Poore in her selfe, because what is her owne
She cannot vse but in depraued wise,
Makes her selfe subiect to all forraine eyes
As vices spectacle: ô that the blisse
VVhich we enioy by minds Synderysis
Th' refined part of man, should soyled be
By th' worst of ils the staine of vsury?
And who'le inueigh against it, few or none,
For miser Nature hardly leaues vs one,
That can securely speake against this ill
So generall is the poison of our will:
For (deere Pernassus now is so opprest)
It dare not speake for feare that interest,
Should be demaunded by the Vsurer
To whom it stands engag'd: this is the fate
That Poets haue, to leaue more wit then state
To their posteritie: ô impious time!
When worst of Fortune followes wits diuine;
VVhen noble actions motiue in their spirit,
Can leaue nought to their Issue to inherit:
Saue their poore fathers papers, monuments
Scarce worth respect: how weakes the Element
VVhich Poets are compos'd of, when one frowne
Sent from a great mans visage can keepe downe
Their best inuention? silly poesie,
That (though free borne, art forc't to slauery,
And vndeseru'd subiection: pittie it is,
That best of merit should shut vp her wish;
And dew expectance in no other booke,
Saue in a skrew'd face or a writhed looke;
Vnfit to entertaine an Art diuine
VVhich is exprest in that poore Muse of thine.
Come, come, great regent of that sacred quire,
Come in thy selfe and so our soules inspire
VVith Arts Elixir and with spirit toe,
That we may do with boldnes what we do:
Erect our aged fortunes make them shine
(Not like the foole in's foot-cloath) but like Time,
Adorn'd with true experiments which may
Conuert our odious night to glorious day.
Let not Ambition mounted in her state
Passe vncontrol'd: care not for getting hate:
“For honest minds are best approued still,
“By gaining hate in curbing what is ill.
Let not these painted blocks of Iuuenal,
VVhich for their cloaths are most admir'd of al
Stand vnreproou'd: let not their dangling plume
So daunt thee, as thou dare not well presume
To blazon their defects, speake what thou seest
And care not who be pleas'd, or who displeas'd.
Let not moth-eaten Auarice appeare
In this deere Ile, without her Character:
Lash me the Symonist, who though precise
In shew, can geld his Parsons Benifice.
Gall me (our graine-engrossers) moulds of th' earth,
That in their plentie laugh at others dearth.
Rouse me the Atheist, let's security
Heare th' iudgement of supernall maiestie
Thundring against him: let th' lasciuious
Know their bed-broking sin, how odious
Their sensuall meetings are to his pure eyes,
VVho euen the secrets of our hearts espies,
Searching our reines, examining our hearts,
Discussing each intention (and all parts)
That haue a working faculty: Euen he
That well approues of morall poesie,
He that confirmes the motions of our minde,
And breath's vpon them if to good inclinde.
Let not sin-tempting wanton Meremaids rest
VVithout due censure, who with naked brest,
Attractiue eye, and garish Complement
Ensnare our fond vnwary Innocent:
These are those Babell publique prostitutes,
Lures to damnation, Romane Catamites,
Inuentresses of pleasures, pensiue still
To doe whats good, but frolike to doe ill.
O London how thy Vanity abounds,
Glorying in that which thy renowne confounds.
Traduced fashions from the Dutch to French,
From French to Spanish, and not longer since,
Then yesterday, blush at thy sinne for shame,
That Albion (by thy meanes) should lose her name,
And habit too: see, see, how farre thou'rt gone,
Beyond thy selfe, that therer's no fashion knowne,
In forraine Courts, deform'd howsoere it be,
But by transportance it doth come to thee.
Lasse how immodest art thou to expresse,
Thy selfe so much by others fashions lesse?
How strangely Metamorphis'd to partake,
For Angells forme, the most deformed shape,
That Countries can bring out: ô pittie tis
That Albions much admir'd Metropolis,
Should make those which admir'd her now to hate
Her vaine condition (introduc'd by state
Too plentifull: Here you Hesperian wits
May you haue subiect more then well befits
A modest pen: for nere was any time
More prone to ill: no Region, countrey, clime,
Prouince, Isle, Regiment so truly blest
With all earths bounties, yet hath lesse exprest,
Of gratitude: here Satirists resort,
And make an ample coment on the Court,
VVhere thou shalt write, som's wanton, others vaine,
Ambitious some, others doe couet gaine
By seruile meanes: some beggars, yet who dare
VVrite in these daies that any such there are.
Then (my sharp tooth'd Satire) frame thy ditty
In the same forme, vnrip the Crimes of'th Citty
VVith a sterne brow: tell the purple Magistrate,
How he has rais'd himselfe to great estate
By others ruine: such as Mercers are,
Tell them darke shops haue got away ill ware,
Such as be Gold-smiths, and are dangerous,
Call them the Siluer-smith of Ephesus.
Long liue Diana, but no longer then
By their Diana they doe reape a gaine.
Such as be Brokers, tell them their profession,
Is not to be a knaue o'th first edition.
But as those garments which are brought to them,
Vse to be worne before by other men:
Euen so they broke their vices and receiue
Som crimes wrapt vp i'th garmēts which they haue,
Tell them of Wapping, bid them thankfull be,
That there is Iustice had for Piracie:
For if that were not (it may well be said)
Many their shops would be vnfurnished,
But in the Country now my Muse shall be,
For brooke shee'le not a Brokers Company.
Here shalt thou see th' picture of Auarice,
Thin-cheek'd, raw-bon'd, faint-breath, and hollow-eyes.
Nose-dropping, rhewme-destilling, driueling mouth
Hand-shaking, haire down-falling, th' misers cough,
Legs goutie, knees vnweldy, hand on cruch,
Eies in his bosome, gasing on his pouch,
His labour torment, rest he cannot take,
VVhen all are sleeping, he is forc't to wake:
His Eies are euer ope, for riches keepe
His eies vnclosed: The miser cannot sleepe.
He's his owne anguish, such an impious elfe,
Thats ill to all, but worst vnto himselfe.
He has not bookes whereon to meditate,
Onely a debt booke and an Alminake.
The one's for forfeitures, where he will pore,
And daie by day trauers them ore and ore:
Th' other's his Enterlude that yeelds him mirth,
Seeing predictions of the next yeeres dearth.
Hope of a deerer Sommer then last was
Vnseasoned haruest: O these hopes surpasse
All others, Heere the Miser sets his eie,
And when he does these strange prenotions spie,
He kisses th' booke, sweares the profession's rare,
And wishes all hee reades such subiects were.
This Cormorant engrosseth all his graine,
Makes his barnes greater by a secret traine
Brings ore his neighbours sonne to set his hand,
Vnto a sale, and so ioynes land to land.
This wicked vlcer that corrupts the state,
Nere thinkes of death, till that it be too late.
His gold's his God, yet vse it cannot he,
But in expression of his miserie:
Which puts the poore Miser to a double paine,
By telling it and putting't vp againe.
But now (my nimble Satyre) for to thee
Tends this impolisht peece of poesie:
How wilt thou taxe, or where wilt thou begin
With thy tart phrase, to stinge and nettle him?
Thou must be bitter (for in greatest grieues)
And festered wounds we vse no lenitiues
To mollefie, but corrasiues to gall:
And of all griefes this is the great'st of all.
By it we are degenerate and liue,
As such as can receiue, bnt cannot giue
To Nature competence: Come my deare Mate
Ile tell thee how to cure their desperate state;
Which in few words least that thy memory faile,
Ile speake my minde vnto thee in a tale.
Silent the Parson was, for well he knew,
The Miser spoke no more then what was true
Onely he wisht such neighbours as he had
Present to pray for him, for he was mad,
And that by all appearance it was like
That his disease had made him lunaticke:
Thus euery day his sicknesse did encrease,
Bereft of comfort, conscience sweetest peace,
Without all hope of health or here or there,
(For th' worm of conscience follows euery where.)
There's no euasion left: where ere we goe
She will attend vs in our weale and woe.
You heard confest he would, but as tis true,
A miser loues not him that craues his due:
So to such men this censure stands for iust,
They loue their Conscience rest lesse then their rust.
What should he doe? the Parson now is gone,
And he vnto himselfe is left alone
T'expostulate with death: his sinnes did grieue him
But now the most when all his friends do leaue him;
Torment belowe, iudgement he sees aboue,
Witnesse within him, that will duly proue
What he has done on earth (thus all in one
Make vp a consort in his dying mone:
Yet as a ship ore-burdend with her freight
Sinking before, sayls brauely, being made light;
Or as the Ocean beats from shelfe to shelfe,
(Sea-sicke god-wot) till she hath purg'd herselfe.
So this sur-charged soule rowl's here and there,
And yet to comfort is no whit the neere,
Till that same lastage of corruption be
Exempted quite: then sleepes she quietly.
Confesse he must, but to no Priest, that's vaine:
But vnto one cleere of another straine;
Shall I tell Satire? yes, thou needs must know it,
And this he was; a thrid-bare neighbouring Poet:
Who after dew confession made to him
Of euery act, and each peculiar sinne,
Extortion, Violence and Iniurie,
Pressing of Orphanes, biting vsurie,
Forfeitures taken, forged bills, at last
He makes confession how a Poet past
His pikes: who once was of a faire estate,
But after had no prospect but a grate:
O, quoth the Poet, that was ill in you;
O (quoth the Miser) I doe know its true:
But with remorce I now lament his fall,
Which 'mongst the rest afflicts me most of all.
Wherefore good Sir, poure out your prayers for me,
That in distast of my impiety
Languishing sore, I may be cheerd in state,
Dying in hope, that now lies desperate.
The faire conditio'nd Poet, though he had heard
How ill his owne profession got reward,
By this hard-harted Miser; yet did he
Scorne his reuenge should in affliction be:
Streight he retires himselfe a pretty space,
Chusing for's Orisons a priuate place,
VVhich being done, to cheere the drooping man,
VVith hands heau'd vp, his praiers he thus began.
Much more he praide, but I doe rather chuse,
(Satyre) to make of all his praiers an vse,
That when the vse shall well expressed be,
Thou maist apply the Benefit to thee.
Sir [quoth the Poet] I my praiers haue made,
Haue you, (replyed he,) as one dismayed,
Yes sir, and by them so my zeale enforc't,
As I preuaild, though it was long time first,
For know an apparision came to me
VVith a shrill voice, which bad me say to thee:
If thou wile first a restitution make,
And render vp what thou by Fraud didst take,
From any man, but chiefly what thou tooke
From th' Poet: next, deliuer vp thy booke
Of all Accounts, great'st cause of thy despaire,
To thy Confessour, and make him thy heyre.
Thou shalt haue health for this, it bad me tell,
But if thou wilt not thou art markt for hell,
For Hell, no marry It take keyes and state,
I will not buy wealth at so deere a rate.
If thou my pretty Satyre couldst reclayme,
A miser thus, I'de thanke thee for the same.
But all too long I haue enforc't thee stay,
Vice calleth thee, and Time drawes me away.

An Epigramme called the Ciuill Deuill.

HIS CATCH.

Not in a durance suite remaine I here,
Yet in a suite like durance hemm'd with feare
Retir'd I am: confinement makes me thrall
Vnto my selfe, which grieues me most of all:
If I but see the shadow of a man,
Or th' tinkling of a Braziers copper pan,
I feare a Sergeant, shadow saies its he,
And th' Brazier saies, such like his buttons be.
Where shall I flie to? 'lasse I know not where:
For Milford-lane is growne too monstrous deere.
No, there I must not goe; for know you how
That place is stil'd? The Gallants Rande-uou.
Well, some-where I must flie: O now I see't:
Philosophers say; heate is expel'd by heate.
Moisture by moisture; Colds extremity
By cold, deriu'd from passions natiuely
Concurring in vs: if this then be trew,
VVho should I flie to (Sir?) but vnto you
That are a Sergeant, and has power to place
Your God-sonne free from any Sergiants Mace?
To you ile flie pursu'de by impudence,
(A Courtiers garbe) crauing safe residence
Vnder your wings: and know (kinde Sir) from me,
To doe for Orphanes its a charity.
Little I am possest of well you know,
And of that little, little doe I owe
To any man: yet for all this am I,
Made a fit obiect for a Sergeants eie.
I could not beg if that my cause were bad,
But to disburse for that I neuer had.
Nor anie for me, 'lasse it seemes to me,
The cause might pleade it selfe without a fee.
Pray Sir (at least) if'th Courtier needes will craue it.
Let him pursue such, where 'has hope to haue it:
For me theres none: but this his wit God wot
To sue his bond, wheres nothing to be got.
Yet for the reputation which I beare
To my vnblemisht credit, I must feare
Not our iust cause, nor any such pretence,
But brazen-face, and guilded conscience.
“For dangers felt are worse then others feard,
“Which makes me now conceald which once appear'd.
'Lasse Sir, my studies cannot brooke restraint,
“Since times obseruance giues me argument.
Of writing what I write: so smal's the store
Of Là'er I haue, that if I knew not more
By obseruation, then by reading, men
Might iustly say, I knew not what I pen.
But Iustice whose pure eie lookes euer right,
And can admit of none that cloudes her sight,
Will shield my cause: its trues I know she will,
Yet in meane time I am be-leagred still,
With these iniurious burres, these tenterhookes,
That euen afright me with their gastly looks.
These engines of despaire, agents of euill,
Factors for Mammon, Viceroyes for the diuell
These that lay hold like bird lime: these be they,
That must be soundly brib'd, or we must pay;
I haue no hope then but your vertuous selfe
To saue my crasie vessell from this shelfe,
Or ship-wrack rather, and so sure am I
Of your best helpe, that I see safety
Appearing midst of daunger: for my trust
So well repos'd in one that is so iust,
Cannot be frustrate, but must needes receiue
What you may graunt, and I may iustly haue.
And well I know that actions of this kinde,
Keepe best concordance with your generous minde,
Whose natiue vertues haue been still exprest,
In giuing breath to causes that are best.
A great prerogatiue, as't seemes to me,
Haue you ore such as onely take their fee,
Without obseruance or discussion had,
Of what the cause is: whether good or bad.
These like to spiders, weaue ore iustice throne
A web, to make their actions lie vnknowne,
But all in vaine: their vices time descries:
For time has many eares and many eies.
Ripe was his wit, and well he vnderstood,
VVho rous't Westminster Hal with Irish wood.
That Iustice there profest', should like appeare,
Suffring no venemous creature to come neere
Her sacred throne: no Spider, worme, nor moth,
But that like vertue should accrew to both.
VVhich makes me muse: sith Irish wood can show,
Such pure effects, why Ireland does not see,
O no it were too much to be the same,
In title, temper nature, and in name.
But whit her wanders my confined Muse?
Lament thine owne, care not for times abuse,
It yields thee matter to expresse thy spleene,
VVhich otherwise would be extinguish't cleane.
Thou mai'st retire, ther's one will see thee pla'st
In safe repose, till all these stormes be past:
VVhich past, may I my conning quite forget,
If better numbers doe not descant it.

TO MY APPROVED FRIEND T. P. in the conduct of my arrest-fearing Epigram his best of Wishes.

If any Sergeant should my lines forestale,
Before they see my Patron enter bayle.
How Night by Night in seuerall roomes I lye,
And that my lines haue farre more Aer then I.

An Epigramme called the Honest Lawyer.

Sprightly my muse, speake like the son of thunder
And with a full mouth, ring out Albions wonder:
No Sussex Dragon, no Virginian,
But of a Lawer that's an Honest man.
Whose definition if you wish to know,
Is a blacke Swan, faire Moore, or milke-white Crow.
He takes no fees, till he conceiue the cause,
Nor with an Oyly bribe annoints his iawes.
He wants the vse of feeling, feares Heauens curse,
Strings not his conscience with his Clients purse.
Hee'l not be tongue-tide, but for Iustice sake,
He seekes to earne the mony he does take.
He hates æquiuocation and delay,
Nor will he make his Threed-bare Client stay
For his dispatch: he will not haue his fee,
Till he discusse the causes equity.
His Iudgement will not vaile to wind nor wether,
Nor is his conscience made of retching lether.
His eye's on Iustice, nor will euer he
Banke-rupt his soule, t'enrich posterity.
His tongue's no time-obseruer, made to please,
His fist is shut from taking double fees.
He will not forge a lye, nor wrest the sence,
Of law or right, for any faire pretence.
He will not backe his Clyent, or maintaine
An vniust suit, to reape a priuate gaine.
He speakes and stands too't, nor is sorry for't,
Though he by speaking truth, incense the Court.
He hates corruption, nor has euer sould,
His peace of Conscience, for a peece of gold
He loues no perfumes, nor is one of those,
Whose peak't mouchatoes skirmish with their nose,
His beard's not starcht, he has no subtile sconce,
Nor Ianus-like lookes he ten waies at once.
His Eare is neuer shut to poore mens mones,
His Coach-wheele is not made of Clients bones,
His Conscience nere did ought that needs relenting
Or ere made Clients pay for his wiues painting.
His soule was neuer soild by corrupt dealing,
Nor stands he on a veluet gowne at sealing.
His face was nere at Braziers, nor his skin
Sy-sambris-like was hung vp to be seene.
His tongue speakes truth, makes peace where ere he can.
This Lawer must be needs an honest man.
It's true, he must: but where now shall we finde
This man: I feare theres none left of his kind.
Yes one I know, and more there be no doubt
But that my dull pate cannot find them out,
Who's truely honest: Whom you may discerne,
You Clients you, that visit this throng Terme,
By no example in our Albion more,
Then by my Patron in my Catch before.
Aske you me why? Experience tells it me,
“None of's Profession honester then he.

Vpon a Patron, who was at home, and yet abroad: in the City, and yet in the Countrey: seene, and not to bee seene: in any place, but where he was, and as soone to be found where hee was not, as where he was.

A Satyre.

A good Patrons Anagram: is Patren. Anag. Parent.
An euill ones Patrone. Anag. Rope an't.

An Epigram in Curium Lampetram:

A Cashierd Courtier.

Cvrius Lampetra, (as he doth confesse)
For he was t'ane i'th nicke, o'th businesse,
Ha's done, soone done, God wot, a worthy deede,
Setting the Courts wreath on the Cities head:
But for his wreath, before one Terms demurre,
He was degraded of his Courtly spurre.
(True badge of Honour) and from that time swore,
Nere to approach the Cities confines more.
What should he doe? the Citie was his gaine,
For poore Lampetra nere had courtly straine;
But apish imitation, whose small force
Made him admired, like an Hobby-horse.
And yet they say, he had a wit at will:
Running like the rundell of a blind horse-mill.
Could sweare an oath, could fome at mouth could set
His words in fustian, and could runne in debt,
Could skrew his face, could moralize a fable,
Yet nere read Æsop, sit at Duke Humfreys Table,
Could walke a turne in Paules, could talke of Spaine,
Yet nere was there, and then come home againe.
Why this is courtly, and this he could doe,
Yea but Lampetra knew not how to woe.
Not wooe? why he could kisse, and as they sing
I'th ballad too, he could doe tother thing.
“A Pox thats true: But shall I tell thee why
She told all out? he did so scuruily:
“As at the very instant when theyre taine,
Shee said (poore foole) put vp thy pipe againe,
For such a Fidler is farre worse then none,
That plaies on still, yet has no stroake but one.
But prethee say, what shall Lampetra doe?
(As other Courtiers) make a foolish show
Of what they haue not: no, it is decreed,
Being boorish bred, he must with boores goe feede
On huskes and hawes; and that he may retaine
Some courtly garbe, his ruins to maintaine
Ith Country must this rusticke swaine be plast,
To purchase pardons, when the iudgement's past:
Or he may finde a Giant at St Bees
And with his sight get money if he please.

An Embleme writte vnto a Gentleman, who entreated the Author to distinguish twixt Rome and roome.

You mou'd me sir, next time I chanc't to come,
For to distinguish betwixt Rome and roome,
Which I haue done: and to the full I hope,
Rome being as farre from roome, as Peter Pope.
For wheresoere I am, wheresoere I come,
I must haue roome, yet that I hope's not Rome.
So whensoere I see Saint Peters chaire,
I doe inferre, Saint Peter has beene there.
But that Saint Peters heyre is now at Rome,
Though he be there, Ile say it's not his roome.
Peter Romes piller, Cater piller he,
Whose roome I loue more then his company.

EN TRES EXCELLENTISSIMO Phantasto Moriano del Castello, equiti tres illustrissimo septentrionali.

Fades rare horned Dicke.

An Anagram included in the Satyre.

Fades my rare horned Dicke? ô, out a cry,
His hornes bud out, and gall him greeuously,
What remedy? faith patience: which appeares
In's wife, whose patience, many burden beares.
Then he may learne of her: it's true, you say,
And therefore plyes his hornebooke day by day.

Anagramma. How Riches freed'd adorne a gull?

Epigram.

Wise is that Foole, that hath his coffers full.
And Riches free'd adorne the veriest Gull.
Yet but vncase the Asse, and you shall see,
An Asse is still an Asse, and so is he.

An Epigram vpon the Anagram, Dedicated to the Mirrour of true Excellency, his much admired (though vnacquainted) friend, Don Moriano dell Castello

To the hopefull young Gentleman, and his experienced friend, Mr. Cheater.

An Embleme which the Author composed in honour of his Mistris, to whom he rests euer deuoted.

Allusiuely shadowing her name in the title of the Embleme, which hee enstiles: His Frankes Anatomie.

Upon his Mistris Nuptiall, ENSTILED:

His Frankes Farewell.

Why whither Franke? to th' church? for what to pray?
O no: to say, what thou canst nere vnsay:
Alasse poore Girle: I see thy quondam friend,
Hath cause to say his hopes are at an end:
How vainely then be our affections plaste,
On women-kinde, that are so seeming chaste,
And priuately so forward-well-be gone,
(If ere I marry) I'le finde such an one,
As (in her modesty) will thinke't disgrace
Others to loue when I am out of place.
But I do thank thee Franke, th' hast taught me more,
Then I could learne in twice seauen yeere before;
For I did thinke your simple sexe did hate
By double dealing to equiuocate:
Where by experience now I finde it common,
That fast and loose is vsuall with women.
Yet in these rites this line my loue shall tell,
Fare well or ill, I wish my Franke farewell.

An Epigramme called the Wooer.

When this retired Swaine had end'd his song,
He seem'd as one that had forgot his wrong,
His Teres were dried vp, his willow wreath,
Throwne quite away, and he began to breath,
More cheerefull and more blith then ere he was,
Forgetting th' Name and Nature of his lasse,
So as no Swaine on all the plaine could be,
For any May-game readier then he:
Now would he tune his pipe vnto his Eare,
And play so sweet, as ioyed the flocks to heare,
Yea I haue heard, (Nor thinke I Fame did lye)
So skilfull was this lad in Minstrelsie,
That when he plaid (one stroke) which oft he would,
No Lasse that heard him could her water hold.
And now because I doe remember't well,
Ile tell a tale which I haue heard him tell,
On winter-nights full oft vnto my Sire,
While I sat rosting of a Crab by th' fire.
A Man there was wh' had liu'd a merry life,
Till in the end, he tooke him to a wife,
One that no image was (for she could speake)
And now and then her husbands costrell break.
So fierce she was and furious, as in some
She was an arraut Deuill of her tongue.
This droue the poore man to a discontent,
And oft and many times did he repent
That ere he chang'd his former quiet state,
But las repentance, then did come too late.
No cure he finds to heale this maladie,
But makes a vertue of necessity.
The common cure for care to euery man,
A potte of nappy Ale: where he began
To fortifie his braine 'gainst all should come,
'Mongst which the clamor of his wiues loud tongue.
This habit graffed in him grew so strong,
“That when hee was from Ale, an houre seem' along,
So well he lik'd th' profession: on a Time,
Hauing staid long at pot, (for rule nor line
Limits no drunkard) euen from Morne to Night,
He hasted home apace, by the moone-light:
Where as he went, what phantasies were bred,
I doe not know, in his distempered head.
But a strange Ghost appear'd (and forc'd him stay)
With which perplext, he thus began to say.
Good Spirit, if thou be, I need no charme,
For well I know, thou wilt not doe me harme,
And if the Deuill; sure, me thou shouldst not hurt,
I wed'd thy sister, and am plagued for't.
The spirit well-approuing what he said,
Dissolu'd to ayre, and quickly vanished.
For Guido saith, some spirits walke on earth,
That cheered are, and much delight with mirth,
Such doe admire conceits and pregnant brayues;
Others there are, which Melancholy chaines,
And keepes in low Subiection, these are they
Affect the balefull night, frequent that way
That is obscure, silent and intricate,
Darke charnell-houses, where they keep their chat,
Of Tortures, Tragicke ends and Funeralls,
Which they solemnize for their Festiualls.
Thus would Admetus passe the winter-night,
Wherein he gaue such neighbours great delight,
As came to heare him: and such store he had,
Of quaint conceits, as there was not a ladde,
That of discourse had more variety,
Or could expresse his mind more gracefully.
But lacke for sorrow, how hee's fallen away,
That was so trim a youth but tother day,
A meere Anatomy, but skin and bone,
One that it pitties me to looke vpon.
What should the cause be, sure I cannot say,
But his pale face, some sicknesse doth bewray?
“For as our thoughts are legible in our eye,
“So doth our face our bodies griefe descry.
Yet I perchance, by th' Sonnet which hee made,
May find the cause for which he is dismaide
How ere it fall, it shall be sung by me,
Now when I want Admetus company.

Admetus Sonnet.

A verse Admetus? I will be the swaine,
Though most vnfit, to vndertake that paine,
Which in faire letters shall engrauen be,
Ouer thy hearse t'expresse thy memory,
And thus it is: Heere is a Shepheard layd,
Who lou'd, was lou'd, yet liu'd and died a Maid.
Yet gainst his will: pray then good spirits tell,
Whether he must or no lead Apes in Hell.

How Fancie is a Phrensie.

An Epigram.

Certaine Select Epigrams, made good by obseruance, experience, and instance: with an introduction to Time, including sundry conceipted passages, no lesse pleasant then present.

It's a mad world my Masters.

To the Precisian.

For the Precisian that dares hardly looke,
(Because th' art pure forsooth) on any booke
Saue Homilies, and such as tend to th' good
Of thee, and of thy zealous brother-hood:
Know my Time-noting lines ayme not at thee,
For thou art too too curious for mee.
I will not taxe that man that's wont to slay
“His Cat for killing mise on th' Sabboth day:
No; know my resolution it is thus,
I'de rather be thy foe then be thy pus:
And more should I gaine by 't: for I see,
The daily fruits of thy fraternity.
Yea, I perceiue why thou my booke should shun,
“Because there's many faultes th' art guiltie on:
Therefore with-drawe by me thou art not call'd,
Yet do not winch (good iade) when thou art gall'd,
I to the better sort my lines display,
I pray thee then keep thou thy selfe away.

The Church-Knight.

A Church-man was there on a time I reade,
Of great estate his father being dead,
Which got, his Syrpe-cloth he discarded quite,
Resoluing fully now to be a Knight:
Vp to the Court he goes with speede he can,
Where he encountred a North-britaine man,
With whom discoursing in his Euening walke,
He spoke of Knights 'mongst other idle talke,
How th' title it was worthie, and that he,
Could well endure entitled so to be;
For I do reade (quoth he) of such as these
Within the Ecclesiasticke histories:
What fame and honour they obtain'd by warre,
Which sir (belieue me made me come thus farre,
That I (if meanes or mony could obtaine it)
Might in respect to my profession gaine it.
The Brittanne his profession did require:
A Curate once, quoth he, of Brecknocke-shire,
Helde, I may say to you, a learned man;
But since my fathers death turn'd gentleman.
I ioy me in th' occasion th' Brittan sayd,
(Doubt not sir Priest) you shall a Knight be made;
And you deserue't: for though Knights common are.
“Holy church-knights, such as you be, seeme rare,
To Long-lane goes the Curate to prouide,
An ancient suite, and other things beside;
As skarfe and roses all of different colour,
Which bought, at White-friers staires he takes a Sculler.
Prepar'd with resolution all the sooner,
To gaine this priuiledge and Knightly honour;
VVhich hauing got by long petitioning suite,
And pai'd vnto the Brittain his first fruit,
To's Neighbors streight he hies-where they much grieue him
“For, swearing he's a knight, they'le not belieue him
Nor would they (such incredulous men were these)
Till he had showen discharge for all his fees.

An Epigramme alluding to the second Satyre of Ariosto, where he taxeth the Clergies pride and Ambition.

An Epigramme called the Cambrian Alchymist.

Vpon diuine Roscius.

Two famous Roscio's chanc't I to espie,
Acting a Metamorphosis, while I
Sleepe vnder th' couert of a shady wood,
VVhere great Archyas for the vmpire stood,
VVho did their seuerall actions thus define,
“Art-full the one, the other most diuiuine.

Vpon Roscius Hackney, in a Dialogue betwixt Expedition, & Endimion.

Exped.
Why-ho , Endimion; how th' Dormouse sleeps,
Awake for shame, open thy wink-a-peeps!

Endim.
What stur you make, I come with speed I can
(and too much speed) for I haue tyr'd my man;

Exped.
Who, Dulman?

Endim.
Yes.

Exped.
I thought the Iade would shame vs,
And play vs one horse-tricke for Ignoramus.

Vpon Tarbon the Countrey Gentleman.

Tarbon they say is mellancholly growne,
Because his wife takes phisicke in the towne:
VVhy, that's no cause; who would not hazard faire
To leaue both land and name vnto his heire?
Yea, but he doubts, (so iealous is the man)
That th' physicke workes not but Physitian.
VVhich if he finde, he sweares he meanes to call.
The child not Tarbon but young Vrinall.
O monstrous, by this thou'st truly showe,
Thy wife a punke, thou needs not call her so:
VVhich with thy fowre eyes Talbon if thou finde,
Ile neuer trust face, conscience, nor kinde.

An Epigram called the Court-Attourney.

Who's yon, young Stephano? why sure you iest,
You Gallants ride with 4. coach-horse at least;
Besides there is euen in his very eye,
A kinde of Court-like formall maiestie:
Its true; yet it is he: for you must know,
Young Stephano is turn'd a Courtier now
VVhich makes him complete, and whers'ere he goe,
He has his ducke, or its not worth a strawe:
But I do doubt, nor be my doubts in vaine,
The Courtier must Atturney turne againe.
And then he must be stript of euery ragge,
And fall againe vnto his buckram-bagge:
If this befall, I shall be sorry for't,
Sith Iohn astyles gets but small grace at Court.

An Epigramme called the Winde-fall.

Sir Sensuall (a wanton Priest) there was
Who made appointment with a Countrie lasse,
That 'gainst the time from market she 'st returne,
He would keepe tutch and doe her a good turne.
The place where these two louely mates should meet
Was a vast forrest vnfrequent'd with feete
of any passenger, saue such as were
Keepers of th' wood, 'mongst which a Forrester,
Vpon occasion chaunc't to come that way,
And heard eue-dropper-like what they did say,
Their place of meeting, with the maides consent
Which he resolv'd as quickly to preuent.
And being vnder shade securely sconst,
Which place he had elected for the nonst,
He staies to see th' returne of this same Lasse,
(which as she wish't) did quickly come to passe:
For Maids that know not what tis to consent
To a lost Maiden-head, nor what is meant
by giuing of a greene gowne, sooner will
Assent to ill, because they know no ill,
Then such as haue of actiue pleasures store,
For well were they experienst in't before.
Yea such will neuer deale vnlesse they smell,
Some hope of gaine, or like the trader well.
At last the maide hauing her market made,
(Perhaps far sooner then her Parents bade)
With clothes tuckt vp returnes with speedy pace,
Downe by the Forrest to'th appointed place.
Where'th Priest Sir sensuall lay all this while,
That he the Maid might of her gem beguile.
If you had seene what meeting there was then,
Betwixt these two, you would haue vou'd no men
Of any ranke or order were so good.
As Church-professors vnto woman-hood.
So humble was the prelate, as to please.
The shamefast maid, he oft fell on his knees.
VVhile mumbling pater nosters on her lips,
Down fell his breeches from his naked hips.
And all this while poore soule she stood stock still,
Not thinking (on my conscience) good or ill.
At last the iolly Priest (when all was showne,
That he could show) wil'd th' maid to lay her down,
Vpon a shadie banke, which with all sorts,
Of flowres was checkerd fit for Venus sports.
She (though she were resolu'd no ill could be
By lying downe, yet in her modesty)
VVould not vnto his motion so assent,
Yet let him blow her downe she was content.
The short-breath'd Priest (for he was wondrous fat)
And stuff'd withall, makes me no bones of that,
But Æolus-like puf's vp his cheeks well growne,
And he no sooner blows then she was downe.
The Forrester who all this time had stood,
Vnder a shadie couert of the wood,
Steps in, when'th Priest his shriuing should begin,
Saying all wind-falls they are due to him.
Manie such Priests auncient records doe show,
And present times may show as many now.

Another Epigram called, A Cuckold with a witnesse.

A vvilie wench there was (as I haue read)
VVho vs'd to capricorne her husbands head,
VVhich he suspecting, lay in priuate wait,
To catch the knaue, and keep his wife more strait.
But all in vaine: they day by day did mate it,
Yet could his foure eies neuer take them at it.
This subtile wench perceiuing how they should
At last preuented be, doe all they could:
For now Italian-like her husband grew,
Horne-mad I wish, and kept her in a Mew.
Inuent'd a trick, which to accomplish better,
Vnto her friend she closely sent a letter,
And thus it was; Friend you shall know by me,
My husband keepes me far more narrowlie,
Then he was wont, so as to tell you true,
You cannot come to me: nor I to you.
Yet spite of his eies and as many more,
VVele vse those pleasures which we vsd before:
Onely be wise, and second what I wish:
VVhich to expresse (my friend) know this it is.
My husband as he hates the horne to weare,
Of all the Badges forth, so feares he'th Beare,
More then all other Beasts which doe frequent
The heathy Forrests spacious continent.
If thou wilt right me then, and pepper him,
Couer thy seruant in a false Beares skin.
And come to morrow, as thou vs'd before,
Tying thy seruant to my chamber dore.
After this quaint direction he attirde
His man in beare-skin as she had desir'de
Entring the chamber he receiued is
VVith many a smile, back-fall, and sweetned kisse:
For they'r secure, of all that was before,
Hauing a Beare that kept the Buffe from dore.
The wittall foole no sooner inckling had,
Then vp the staiers he ran as he were mad.
But seeing none but th' Beare to entertaine him,
Of Hornes he neuer after did complaine him.

In Romanum Mnestorem.

It chanc't two Romane Conuerts on a day,
For pater noster at the Cards to play;
She mop'd, he pop'd; his popping could not get her,
“For she thought popping elsewher had been fitter.
Thus he went home no wiser then he came,
Sith popping was the Puppies chiefest game.

In Poetam Hippodramum.

OR Post-riding Poet.

It tooke a Poet once I'th head to poast,
For what I know not, but I'me sure it cost
His purse far more (as I haue heard soms say)
Then ere his Muse was able to repay.

In Numularium antiphylon.

Cash-coind? its true; but he intends to be
The stamper of that Coine is due to me.
Pray thee (my friend) forbeare to set it on,
(My stampe I meane) till I haue throughly done:
And I protest to thee, when I haue ended,
I'le yeeld to thee, if she say thou canst mend it.

In Romanum Sacerdotem.

A Romane Priest came to absolue a Virgin by the way,
As he in his Procession went: where hee resolu'd to stay
A night. For what? not to absolue the tender Virgins sinne,
But as a Ghostly Fathers wont, to let more errors in:
The doore was shut, the candle out, for I would haue you mark,
A carnall Father best absolues a Virgin in the darke:
Which absolution so increasd, in zeale and purity,
As within sixe and forty weekes it grew a Tympany,
A girle forsooth, baptized Ioan, nor is it any shame,
For th' wench in time may proue Pope Ioan the second of that name.

In Phylætum.

Phylætus writing loue-lines on a day,
A Ratte came in and stole his lines away.
Phyletus slept on still, and minded not
While th' hungry Ratte eat vp the lines he wrote;
If I were to be Iudge, as much may be,
The Rat should be in loue, Phyletus free,
That seeing th' saucy Rat to loue enthrall'd,
Loue-bayne heereafter might be Rats-baine call'd.

An Epigram called the Courtier.

Now heauen preserue mine eyesight what is here?
A man made vp in Wainscot? now I sweare,
I tooke him for some Colosse; sure I erre,
This is not he: yes: this's the Courtier,
Braue Pun-tevallo, for those armes he beares,
(An Asse head rampant) and that chaine he weares,
By blest Saint Martin, doe descry it's he,
Well, ile obserue his carriage narrowly.
VVhat makes him go so stiffe, has he the gout?
No, but a fire in's hams that went not out
These seuen yeares to my knowledge: then it has
Begun (it seems bout time) when th' glasse-work was;
Its true, it did so, I haue heard some say,
He has a pleasant wit, he has one way
A pretty thriuing wit, can make a legge,
And harken out what office he may begge.
Can looke as big and burly on such men,
(Poore Gnats) that come for to petition him,
As Giants in a Pagent, can protest,
For meere formality, laugh at a iest,
(Without conceiuing out) has witte enough,
To put good close on, beare his face in's ruffe.
Like a braue sprightly Spaniard, will not let,
With some new minted oaths to pay his debt,
And can dispense with them, nor does he more,
In this, then what his Elders did before.
VVith truth (in complement) he seldome meetes,
For naked truth with Eue lies without sheetes,
And he endures not that, nor can incline,
To such a motion, but in progresse time.
He cannot blush (no more can women now)
Till that their pretie painter tell them how.
He ha's a kind of vaine in sonnetting,
Purchast by brocage or by pilfering,
VVith which he wooes his mistresse, he will set,
His face to any fashion, and will bett,
VVagers on Ladies honours: hauing forgotten
VVhat he should speake, hee's fingering his button,
Or some such trifling action, till he store
himselfe with wit, which he had lost before:
Nor did that Morall erre, who wisely would,
Compare a Courtiers witte to th' Marigold.
It opens with the Sunne, but beeing set
The Mari-gold shuts vp, so doth his witte.
The Marigold's most cheer'd by mid-day sunne,
So's he, whence i'st, he lies in bed till noone.
Occasion is his Cupid, lust his lure,
Pleasure his Pander, dalliance his whoore,
He h'as but one receipt of making loue,
And being put out, he cannot speake, nor moue,
But like a liue-lesse image, seemes to be,
Till by good hap his speech recouered be.
He smells of Complement, in presence faire,
And vses oft to weare bracelets of haire,
Swearing they came from such, but tis not so,
For t'was some tyre-woman he tooke them fro.
The Ornaments which he admires are these,
To faune, to obserue times, to court, to please,
To make strange faces, sleeke his prefum'd skin,
Starch his Mouchatoes, and forget his sinne.
To dance, to dice, to congie, to salute,
To stamp, to stalke, to finger well a lute.
To tremble at a Cannon when it shootes,
To like, dislike, and fill his head with doubts.
To be in passion, wind his carelesse armes,
To plie his Mistresse with delightfull charmes.
To be for all, yet ignorant in all,
To be disguisd, and strange fantasticall:
Briefly to be, what all his kind haue beene,
Seeme what they be not, be what least they seeme.
Such is my Puntauallo, and in time
No question but hee'l prooue true Pantomime,
To imitate all formes, shapes, habits, tyres
Suting the Court, and sorting his desires,
And then what th' Satyre said, shall well appeare:
The Deuill is the perfects Courtier.
Hauing my complete Courtier thus defin'd,
I haue no more that I can call to minde,
“Saue what is common, and is knowne to all,
“That Courtiers as the tide doe rise and fall,
So I will end with what I haue writ before,
“Till the' next tide come, and then I wil write more.

Vpon his much honoured friend Master William Ascam, and his selected Temple.

Epigram.

Aske him what Temple most delighteth him,
And hee'l replye, that Temple thou art in.
Aske him what Praiers should in that Temple be,
And he'le replie, what prayers best liketh thee:
Aske him what Temple yeelds him most content,
And he'le reply thy Temple, ther's his Saynt.
Aske him what Temple's purer then aboue.
He'le say thy Temple: there's the Queene of Loue;
Then let me aske your iudgement is't not fit,
That Temple honour him, that honours it?

Posies vpon bracelets.

As loue giues life to euery part,
So this giues life vnto my hart:
This chastly lies, and liues with me,
O that I might doe so with thee?

Another.

[How might I triumph in my blisse]

How might I triumph in my blisse;
If loue were where my Bracelet is.
For then should loue do no such harm
To wring my heart, but wreath my arme.

An Eglogue betweene Billie and Iockie called the Mushrome.

Iockie.
Whou Billie whou, what faire has thou bin at?
Thouse be so trim, I mickle torken at:
For wele I wate, last time I met with thee,
Thou hardly had a lapp to swedle thee.
Pray thee (good Bille,) tell me swith and soone,
Iockie may doe what Billy late has done.

Billie.
What Iockie (lither lurden) lesse for wea,
Thou'st be so tattert, but theres many sea,
That ill can wappe it: but be vis'd by mee,
And thou or lang sall glish in brauery.
Swatt on thy tayle man, heeres a blythy place,
And ile ensure thee how I gat this grace.

Iockie.
Mickle may Bille thriue, as hees begun,
My lugges are lithing, Bille now iogge on

Billy.
Then heare me Iocky. Bout mid-belten twas
Or Ise bethought awrang, when I mut passe,
Ore th' Breamy bourne, and (wele I traw) I had,
Smaw gere (at tat tide) but a lether-bagge,
A Motley iacket, an a slop of blew,
It was my Fadders, I mun tell thee true.
A lang youd I, (and langer then thoule say)
And wele, I knew not whether, ne what way,
Fute-sare I was, for Bille shoon had neane,
But an aud pare with him, and they were gane.
Nor hose legs (wele I wate) but skoggers aud,
That hardly hap't poore Billes legs fractu'd.
Hate was my weasia, empty was my maw,
And nane I met with, I could ken or knaw,
So vncath was the gete (as but for shame)
I had com'd backe toth place fra whein I came,
For siler had I skant, nor lesse nor mare,
Then three Bawbees, Ile tell thee all my stare.
But lith me Iocky (after many a mile)
At last I hapt to light vpon an Ile,
Bu Come and full a gere, and full a store,
For Bille neuer met with like before,
Sae Greathy was the place where I was driuen
That I me sicker thought I was in Heauen.
But wele Ise sure they that this Iland kept,
Were by our Whilome Fathers Angels clept.
And wele they might be so, for wele I wate,
They were fine men, and men of mickle state.
Had lusty husses (that were tricke and trim,)
Cud wele don on their geere, with euery pin.
Heere stood I musing lang full heauily,
Till Iockie wha dost thinke speard vp to me.

Iockie.
Wha Bille mot that be?

Bille.
Ane wha thou kens.
Caud ane, we raught on meanely, but now sene,
He has the pricke and preze Ile say to thee.

Iockie.
Was it not Lobbie?

Bille.
Iocky it was he.
But now the mickle Lurden is so great,
Theyr blest by God, that may with Lobbie speake.
By Gods bread Iockie, he so gaish was,
I thought no boot to speake, but let him passe,
And had done so, but Lobby was so kinde,
To come to me and leaue his men behind.
Great chat we had, and many that were nye,
Musd he would chat with sike an ene as I.
But blith was Lobbie, and so meeke he was,
That he vnhorst sate by me on the grasse,
Lang did we tauke of this thing and of that,
A Iugge, a Peggy, and a nut-brown Kate,
A Crowd the Piper, and the Fiddler Twang,
And many sike things, as wee layen alang.
Ablangst the leaue, this Councell gaue he mee,
That made me wele to leue, so may it thee.
Billie (quoth Lobby) if thoule prosper heere,
Thou mun be bald, and learne to bandon feare,
Thou mun not blush, nor colour change for ought,
Though th' plea thou hast in hand be nere so nought.
Thou mun not take petition (lithen me)
Nor entertaine him, till thou take thy fee,
And (wele I warne thee) better way thou thriue,
If thy hand open be to aw that giue.
Get mee some prollers, they are best of all,
To make thee weet, when some good office falls,
Or a barre-hoisted Lawyer that can see,
With his foure eyne where aud concealments be,
But of aw things I mun fore-warne thee hence,
To haue small dealing with a Conscience.
That will vndoe thee (Billy) looke to ane,
Poore men haue Conscience, but rich men haue nane.
'Mongst other things listen to what I say,
For I in briefe will speake now what I may.
In Teucria here (this Citie where there be)
Many a man will haue an eye of thee,
Gaine me Acquaintance: it's the spring of life,
And know thou maist a Tradesman by his Wife.
Be sicker on her Billye, she it is
Can ope her hushands Casket with a kisse.
Diue me into a Mercers Booke, and say,
Thoul't pay on sike a time, but doe not pay.
Chauke me on Vintners, and for aw thy skore,
Let great words pay for aw, still run on more.
Be stately Billy (and I doe thee rede)
Thou mun now throw away thy countrey weed.
For skoggers, hozen of the Naples twine,
For thy blew slop, sike a made breeke as mine:
For thy aud motley iacket, thou mun weare,
A cloath a siluer, sike as I haue heere.
Then mun thou looke big (what way ere thou passe)
As if that Billy were not th' man he was.
Then learne me Billy some aud Pedegree,
Noe matter though't belong not vnto thee,
And say thy Grand-sire was a Duke at least,
And first inuentor of Saint Gallowayes feast.
Maintaine me leeing in a Liuery,
For that's the first meanes that mun honour thee:
Let her be Page-like, at thy elbow still,
For when thou canst not doe it, leeing will,
Let Suters dance Attendance, lithen me,
And quicke dispatch, be it thine enemye.
Take fees for expedition, for of aw,
Sutes hastly ended wreake our ouerthrow.
Get me an Heralt (wele I wat) oth best,
That may for Bille find some pretty Crest,
A Rat, a Pismire, or a Butterflie,
A Cornish Chucke, a Parrat, or a Pie,
A nimble Squirrell or a picke-a tree,
A Wesell, Vrchin, or a Bumble Bee.
Or if of plants, my Bille will haue ane,
He may full swithly mange these chuse him ane.
The Brier, the haw-thorne: or the Priuet bush,
The Osire, Cypresse, or where th' merry Thrash,
Sings cut her Fa, la, la, but nane there be,
“That like the Mushrome Bille sitteth thee,
Her grouth is sudden, Bille so is thine,
Then take the Mushrome, its a Crest of mine.
Mare need I not say, keepe but wele my reede,
And siker Ise, thou cannot chuse but speede.
With that he twin'd frame, and left me there,
Where I with mickle Carke, and mickle Care,
Bustling now vp now downe, at last me yode,
To ply my lesson wele I vnderstood,
And in a pretty while I learnd to bee,
That cunning Clerke that he awarded me.
Deftly could I tricke vp me sell, and trim,
Me featly fine, in euery legge and limme,
Wele cud I marke my name in Marchants books,
Fo wele I wate, wha ere he be, that lookes,
I'se there in black and white, and wele I may,
For he is said to aw that menes to pay.
Not a petion would I listen ore,
Till Billie had sam chinke in's fist before.
Not a rich mickle lossell could there be,
That had a plea but had his path by me.
And sine I sau as Lobbie teld beliue,
That he that had a conscience could not thriue.
I draue the Haggard frame, sine whilke time,
Iockie thou sees how Billie gins to shine.

Iockie,
And lang may Billie shine, but sayne to me
Fare aw our Coustrils haufe as wele as thee,

Billie.
Iockie they doe, nor neede thou t'arken out,
For we will feede, wha euer famish for't:
O its a place so full of louisance,
Play but thy round the Ilanders will daunce.
Ladies & Lordings, Swainelines with their Swaines,
Will trimly trip it ore the leuie plaines.
And wele I wat that Iockie ance could play,
For I haue heard him,—

Iockie.
And so Billie may.

Billie.
Then tune thy chanter vp and gae with me,
Come blithly on,—

Iockie.
Iockie does follow thee.

A Panegirick Embleame, Intituled, Saint George for England.

A Victorious Pæan to our Albions St, alluding to all noble spirits, natiue assumers of his Honor & Order.

A Satyre called the Coni-borrowe.

Now in the name of fate what Saint is she,
That keepes a shop of publicke Brothelrie?
Harbours the sharking Lawyer for his pence,
And Martir-like consumes his euidence?
Nusles my damned Atheist, makes him curse
Nature and fortune, that his thin-lin'd purse
Should be depriv'd of crowns: do you ask what St?
This Saint was sent from th' fiery Regiment.
A Sodome-apple, a lasciuious staine
To vertues habite, or a whore in graine,
A sucke-blood, Hyene, feigning Crocodile
VVorse then the monster bred on th' banks of Nyle,
A purple Strumpet, Gangrene to the stare,
Earths-curse, hels-blisse, soules-soile, & Angels hate.
Smoothed Damnation, smothered infamie,
Horror to Age, and youths calamity,
Pritty-fac'd diuell of a ginger pace,
Grace-lesse in all saue that her name is Grace,
Soules-running vlcer that infects the heart,
VVith painting, purfling and a face of Art.
Star blasting honour, vertues foe, exprest
By hating where she seemes to fancy best.
Vow-breaking periure, that her selfe adornes,
VVith thousand fashions, and as many formes.
Creature of her owne making, hollow trunke,
A Christian Paganis'd with name of Punke.
A Cell, a hell, where she'le no others haue,
The common Palliard-Pandor, Baud, or slaue,
A cage of vncleane birds, which is possest,
Of none saue such as will defile their nest.
VVhere fries of Hell hounds neuer come abroade,
But in that earthly Tophet make aboade.
VVhere bankrupt Factors to maintaine a state,
Forlorne (heauen knows) and wholy desperate,
Turne valiant Boults, Pimps, Haxtars, roaring boyes,
Till flesht in bloud, counting but murders toyes,
Are forc't in th' end a dolefull Psalme to sing,
Going to Heauen by Derick in a string.
It's you damn'd prostitutes that soyle this land,
VVith all pollutions, haling downe the hand
Of vengeance and subuersion on the State,
Making her flowrie borders desolate.
It's you that ruine ancient families,
Occasion bloodshed, pillage, periuries.
Its you that make the wicked prodigall,
Strips him of fortune, heritance, and all,
Its you that makes new Troy with factions bleede,
As much or more then euer old Troy did.
Its you (sin-branded wantons) brings decay,
To publique states. Its you that hate the day,
But honour night: where euery female sinner
Resembles th' Moone, that has a man within her.
Lasciuious Burrowes, where there nothing are,
But toused, sullied, and ore iaded ware.
No musick but despaire, no other note,
Saue some French-language from a prophane throat:
Noe other Accent then the voyce of hell,
Where Stygian Circe mumbles ore her spell
Shakes her pox-eaten ioynts, and sends for spies,
To gaine her traders two sin tempting eies.
Where she in praise and honour of her trade
Saies, that the Stewes were in th' beginning made,
For the aduancement of a publick good,
And well it may, if rightly vnderstood:
For if in pleasures there such bitters be,
As still repentance lackies vanitie?
If lust that's cal'd by th' sensuall Epicure,
The best of mouing pleasures, and the lure,
That for the instance makes our organs rise,
Thinking that plase we'r in is Paradice.
If she (I say) bring forth no fruit at all,
Saue news from'th Spittle, or the Hospitall.
Drie rewmes, cararchs, diseases of despaire,
Puritane-sniueling, falling of the haire.
Akes in the ioynts, and ring-worme in the face,
Cramps in the nerues, fire in the priuy place.
Racking the sinews, burning of the gall,
Searing the vaines, and bowels most of all:
Drying the head, which natur's wont to feede,
Sucking the blood, whence all distempers breede.
If best of pleasures haue no other end,
Mong'st earths delights, thē haue we cause t'extend,
Our pure affections to an higher ayme,
Then to corrupt the honour of our name.
For present appetite: I thanke thee whoor,
Thou hast instructed me to haue a power
Ouer my sence by reason rectified,
And hast well neere my senses mortefied:
I know thy habit (and I once haue sworne,
But now recant it) that no earthy forme
Was of like composition, but conceiuing,
That th' period of thy pleasure was in hauing,
And that thy lust was but desire of gaine,
I curb'd my selfe that I should be so vaine.
To spend my state, my stock, my name, my nature,
On such a brittle fickle, faithlesse creature.
Fond was my iudgement when my reason straid,
To soile the honourd title of a maide,
With brothell greeting, or a painted trunke,
A rotten Tombe, a Basiliske, a Punke.
For tell me whore? what bewty's in thee showne,
Or mouing part that thou canst say's thine owne?
The blush that's on thy cheeke I know is made
By'th Painters hand, and not by nature laid:
And that same rosie-red, and lillie white,
Which seemes t'include a volume of delight.
Is no more thine, then as it may be said;
Faire is the waineskote when it's varnished.
Yea I haue heard some of thy consorts say,
Thy night-face is not that thou wearst by day.
But of a different forme, which vnderstood,
Rightly implies too faces in one hood.
Now my (prodigious faery) that canst take,
Vpon occasion a contrary shape.
Thou that canst varie habits and delight,
To weare by day what thou putst of at night.
Thou that with tempting motiues of despaire,
Braiding the net-like tresses of thy haire,
Smoothing thy brazed front, oyling thy skin,
Taking a truce with Satan, and with sinne.
How canst thou thinke that I will loose the light,
Of my deare soule, to please mine appetite?
How canst thou thinke that for a moments sweete,
Wherein the height of pleasures, sorrows meete.
I will engage that essence of delight
For time eternall, measure infinite?
How canst thou thinke I am so void of sense,
Or blinde, as not to know thy impudence?
True, I was blind, when thy sin-Syren voice,
Made me despise my selfe, and make a choice
Of soules seducing Error: I was blinde,
When I did hope contented ioyes to finde
In so profane a couer: Blinde was I,
When I expected ought but vanitie.
In such an odious harbour: blinde I was
To looke for vertue in so vile a case.
But now the glorious essence of my soule
Tels me, For all thy vertue thou art foule.
Spotted with Ermins, and that vanitie,
Of which thar't proud, is like a leprosie.
VVich runnes to euery vaine, whose very breath,
Poisons the tutcher with infectious death.
For whats complexion if I should speake true,
(That which thou wears I meane) but what the Iew
Of lothsome compositions's vsd to make,
As th' fat of Serpents, and the slough of snakes,
VVith cursed spittle or fleagme commixed is,
And canst thou thinke this face deserues a kisse?
No, odious Lecher that beslubbered face,
That entertaines no signe nor slampe of grace,
That sin-reflecting eye, whose piercings are,
VVounds to the soule, and to the mind a care,
That artificiall blush, that painted cheeke,
VVhich neuer seekes, what woman-hood shold seek,
That whorish looke drain'd from a wanton mind,
Shall make me hate, where I was once inclin'd,
Shall make me hate? O that I did not hate,
Before this time: but sorrow's nere too late,
If feruent, and may I excluded be,
If my resolues proceed not inwardly.
Farewell, but well I doubt thou canst not fare,
So long as thou dost lodge in this dispaire:
Preuent me then the cause, and thou shalt see,
The effect thereof will soone preuented be:
Till then adew: for till that time I sweare it,
Thy Connie-burrow is not for my Ferret.

Vpon a Poets Palfrey, lying in Lauander, for the discharge of his Prouender.

An Epigram.

Hymens Satyre.

Don Bassiano married now oflate:
Has got his witlesse pate a faire estate,
Ist possible, Fortune should be so blind,
As of a world of men not one to find,
Worthy her training in her thriuing school
But an admired Wittall or a Foole?
It's true: why then Fortune's a partiall whoore,
To make the foolish rich, the wisest poore.
VVhence we obserue (experience teacheth it)
The younger brother hath the elder wit,
Yea by example instanc'd euery where,
The Cockney-Cittie's rich, the Suburbs bare,
O then I see the Goulden age begins,
When fooles are mates for wisest Citizens.

A Marriage song called by the Author In and Out:

and now dedicated to the lately conuerted honest-man, W. G. and his long loue-crossed Eliza.

The Marriage song, called In and Out.

Upon the Marriage.

This Marriage went the nearest way about.
Playing now vp, now downe, now in, now out,
But being done I wish loue may begin,
Now to be neuer out, but euer in.

An Epigramme, Like to like.

Vpon a time (as I informed am)
A Sub-vrbs Baud and Countrey Gentleman,
Comming at the dore where I doe lie,
A gallant rufling wench chanc't to passe by;
Which th' Baud obseruing,—Sir I pray you see,
“How like you gallant and my daughter be.
Indeed they much resemble, both in face,
Painting, complexion, and in huffing pace,
Yea I should say nere any two were liker,
If this be as thy daughter is? a striker.

Vpon the commodious though compendious labor of Mr. Arthur Standish,

In the inuention of planting of Wood. A wood-mans Emblealme.

To the truely worthy, the Alderman of Kendall and his brethren.

Sir in regard of due respect to you,
(If I could write ought that might yeeld a due,
To th' Corporation of which I may call,
(And dewly to) your selfe the principall:
I should desire, if power were to desire,
To take an Eagles wing and soare farre higher.
Then hitherto my weake Muse could attaine,
But 'lasse I see my labour is in vaine;
For th' more I labour to expresse your worth,
The lesse I able am to set it forth:
Yet let not my endeuours so be taken,
As if with power my will had me forsaken;
For know (though my ability be poore)
My good-will vie's with any Emperour.
Yea I must write and though I cannot speake,
What I desire yet I will euer seeke,
T'expresse that loue which hath been borne by me,
(And shall be still) to your Society.
Then cause I know your place and haue an ayme,
To shewe your merits in a shadow'd name:
I must be bold (affection makes me bold,
To tell you of some errors vncontrol'd,
VVhich to your best discretion Ile referre,
Hauing full power to punish such as erre.
First therefore I intend to speake of is;
Because, through it, there's many do amisse,
Is Idlenesse, which I haue partly knowne,
To be a vice inherent to your towne:
Where errant pedlers, mercinarie slaues,
Tinkers, and Tookers and such idle knaues
Are too too conuersant: let your commaund
Suppresse this sinne and refuse of the land,
They much disparage both your towne and you:
Send them to th' whipping-stocke, for that's their dew.
You know the Lord (whose will should be obeid)
Hath in his sacred word expresly sayd,
That those which wil not labour they should sterue,
(For rightly so their merits do deserue.
Yea if we should in morall stories see,
What punishments inflicted vse to be
On such as could not giue accompt what they
Did make profession of from day to day;
Yea such as could not (vpon their demaund
Expresse how they did liue vpon their hand;
I make no question (but by Pagans care,)
You that both Magistrates and Christians are,
VVould see your Towne (by th' punishments exprest)
By selfe-same censures to be soone redrest.
And this same error do I not espie,
Onely in them, but in the younger frie,
VVho in their youth do lauish out their time.
Without correction or due discipline:
Respectlesse of themselues (as't may be sayd)
They seeme forgetfull wherto they were made:
O looke to this let them not run at large,
For ouer these you haue a speciall charge;
And if they fail beleeu't from me it's true,
Their blood will be requir'd of some of you.
We reade in Rome how they did still retaine,
Some exercise that they their youth might traine,
In warlike discipline or liberall arts,
Or education in some forraine parts;
So as in time as after it was showne,
These actions gain'd their Citty great renowne.
But whence can I imagine that this sin,
Wherein too many haue been nusled in,
Had her originall but from that staine
Of reputation, and the worlds baine,
(Which I in briefe am forced to expresse,)
To wit, that swinish vse of drunkennesse?
A vice in great request (for all receiue it)
And being once train'd in't there's few can leaue it;
How happie should I in my wishes be,
If I this vice out of request could see,
VVithin that natiue place where I was borne,
It lies in you, deere Townes-men to reforme,
VVhich to performe, if that I might presume,
Or so much vnder fauour to assume.
As to expresse what my obseruance taught me,
Or bring to you what my experience brought me.
I would make bold some outward grounds to lay,
Which might in some sort lye an open way,
For rectifying such abuse as grow,
By this foule vice, and I will tell you how.
There is no meane that sooner moues to good,
If that the same be rightly vnderstood,
Then is example, for it's that doth moue,
Such firme impression as we onely loue,
What greater wittes approue, and what they say,
Stands for an axiome mongst the younger aye,
Which by the Prouerbe euery man discernes,
Since as the old Cocke crowes, the young Cock learns;
So weake is youth, as there is nought in them,
Which they deriue not from the Eldermen,
Quickly peruerted (so depraud's our will)
If they see ought in the Elder sort that's ill,
And hardly (when they'r customed in sinne,)
Can they be wain'd from that they'r nusled in,
But if they once perceiue the Elder sort,
Hates vice in youth, and will reprooue her for't
If they see Vertue honourd by the Graue
And reuerend Magistrate, care they will haue,
To rectifie their errors, and reduce,
Their streying courses to a ciuill vse.
If this by due obseruance doe appeare,
Methinks you that are Elders, you should feare,
To act ought ill, lest your example should,
Approue in others, what should be contrould.
And ill may th' Father chastise in his sonne,
That vice, which he himselfe is guilty on.
Your patternes are most obuious to the eye,
Of each vnseason'd youngling passeth by,
VVhich if he see defectiue but in part
He presently applies it to his heart:
For Education which we may auerre
With that diuinely-learn'd Philosopher
To be a second Nature) now and then
Doth alter quite the qualities of men,
And make them so transform'd from what they were,
(As if there did some other men appeare:
Yea so far from their Nature they're estraung'd,
As if they had been in the cradle chang'd:
And of this second nature I am sure,
Example is the onely gouernour.
Which Plutarch termes th' Idea of our life,
Tymon an emelation or a strife
We haue to imitate, that what we see,
May in our selues as well accomplisht bee.
O then you Presidents (whose yeeres do giue
To most of you a faire prerogatiue)
Reforme your selues (if you see ought) and then
You better may reform't in other men.
As you are first by order and by time,
So first inioine your selues a Discipline;
VVhich being observ'd by you and dewly kept,
You may wake such as haue securely slept
In their excesse of vanities: 'mongst which
Let me (with all respect to you) beseech
That you would seek exactly to redresse,
(That brutish vice of beastly drunkennesse.
And first to propagate a publique good,
Banish't I pray you from your brother-hood,
For diuerse haue obserued it and will;
(For man obserues not good so oft as ill.
What's done by th' Elders of a Corporation,
Giues vnto other men a toleration:
If any such there be (as well may be)
For that vice raignes in each Society:
First caution them, bid them for shame refraine
To lay on Grauity so fowle a staine;
Tell them much happens twixt the cup and lip,
And those same teres of their good fellowship,
If they in time reforme not what's amisse,
Shall drowne their reeling soules in hels abisse:
Where they may yaule and yarme til that they burst,
Before they get one drop to quench their thirst,
Since th' punishment shall be proportion'd there,
To that delight which we do liue in here.
O then, for Gods loue, bid them now prepare,
To be more strict then hitherto they were,
Or bid them haue recourse vnto their glasse,
And there surueigh how swiftly time doth passe,
How many aged Emblemes time doth showe,
In those same wrinkles of their furrow'd browe;
How many motiues of declining age,
What arguments of a short pilgrimage,
How many messengers of instant death,
As dropsie, gout, and shortnes of the breath,
Catarrs descending howerly from the head,
Distaste of meates, wherein they surfeted:
And thousand such proceeding from ill diet,
Nights-sitting vp, rere bankets, mid-dayes ryet,
But if these doting Gray-beards I haue nam'd,
VVill not by your intreaties be reclaim'd,
Then I would wish (because these vices lurke)
That you would fall another way to worke,
And by dew castigation force them take
Another course for youths example sake:
For those that will not now, at last repent
After some twice or thrice admonishment,
Deserue a punishment, nay which is worse,
The Churches Anathema or that curse,
Which shall lie heauy on them in that day,
When what they owe they must be forc't to pay:
But some of you such Reuerend-men appeare,
As you deserue that title which you beare,
Townes Guardians, protectors of our peace,
And sole renewers of our hopes encrease,
So discreete and so temporate withall,
As if Rome did her men Patritians cal,
I without assentation might be bolde
To name you so, nor could I be control'd.
VVherefore I need nor feare but you that are
Of such sincerity will haue a care,
To roote out these (which as they seeme to me)
Be maine Corrupters of your libertie,
I wish it and I hope to see it too,
That when I shall come to re-visit you
I may much glory and so much the more,
To see them good that were deprau'd before:
Nor doe I onely shadow such should giue,
Example vnto others how to liue;
But ev'n such vice-supporters as begin,
Brauado-like to gallant it in sin:
These are incorrigible saying their state
Transcends the power of any Magistrate:
For why they're Gentlemen, whence they alleadge
They may be drunkards by a priuiledge:
But I would haue you tell them this from me,
There is no such thing in gentilitie,
Those that will worthily deserue that name,
Must by their vertues character the same:
For vice and generous birth (if vnderstood)
Differ as much in them, as ill from good.
Besides, if they do snuffe when they're reproou'd,
Or seeme as if, forsooth their blood were moov'd:
Tell them that weake and slender is that towne,
VVhen snuffes haue power to menace iustice down:
Shew me true Resolution, they may know
That God hath placed Magistrates below,
Who haue power to controle and chastice sin,
(And blest's that town where such commaund hath bin:)
For tell me, if when great men do offend
Iustice were speech-lesse, to what especiall end
Should lawes enacted be? Since they do take
Nothing but Flies, like th' webs which spiders make
Where small ones they both ta'ne and punish'd be,
While great ones breake away more easily:
But rightly is it which that Cynicke sayde,
Who seeing iustice on a time ore-swaid,
And ouer bearded by a great-mans will,
Why thus it is, quoth he, with Iustice still:
Since th' golden Age did leue her, for at first
She was true-bred and scorn'd to be enforst
To ought but right, yea such was Time as then,
“Things lawfull were most royall amongst men:
But now she that should be a sharpe edg'd axe,
To cut downe all sin's made a nose of waxe;
Wherein it's Iustice (if I not mistake it)
What ere it be, iust as the Great-men make it.
But Saturne is not banisht from your towne,
For well I know there's perfect iustice showne,
There Themis may be sayd to haue her seate,
VVhere poore-ones may be heard as well as great,
There's no corruption but euen weight to all,
Equally temper'd, firme, impartiall,
Sincere, Iudicious, and so well approu'd,
As they that iustice loue or ere haue lov'd,
Are bound to hold that Corporation deere,
Since in her colours she's presented there.
Nor do I only speake of such as be,
Iustices nam'd within your libertie,
But of those men where with your Bench is grac't
And by Commission ore the County plac't.
There may we see one take in hand the cause,
Ferreting out the secrecy of th' lawes
Anatomizing euery circumstance,
Where if he ought omit, its a meere chance,
So serious is he, and withall so speedy
As sure his Pater noster's not more ready:
Yea I haue wondred how he could containe
So many law-querkes in so small a braine,
For as we see full of in summer time,
When Sun begins more South ward to incline,
A showre of haile-stones ratling in the aire:
Euen so (for better can I not compare)
His lawe exhaling meteors) would he
Send out his Showre of law-termes vsually:
So as I thought and manie in those places,
That it did thunder lawe, and raine downe cases.
Yea I haue knowne some strucke in such a blunder
As they imagin'd that his words were thunder;
Which to auoide (poore snakes) so scar'd were they,
As they would leaue the Bench and sneake away.
There may we see another so well knowne
To penall statutes, as there is not one,
(So well experienst in them he does make him)
Which can by any kinde of meanes escape him.
Besides for execution which we call,
The soueraigne end and period of all;
Yea which may truly be esteem'd the head,
From whence the life of Iustice doth proceed
He merits dew respect: witnesse (I say)
Those whipping-stocks erected in th' high way
With stockes and pilleries, which he hath set
To haue the vagrant Begger soundly bet,
Nor doth he want for any one of these,
A statute in warme store if that he please;
Which on occasion he can well produce,
Both for himselfe and for his Countries vse,
Another may we see, though spare of speech,
And temporate in discourse, yet he may teach
By his effectuall words the rasher sort,
Who speake so much as they are taxed for't.
Yea so discreetly sober as I wish,
Many were of that temper as he is.
For then I know their motions would be good,
Nor would they speake before they vnderstood.
Another solid, and though blunt in words,
Yet marke him and his countrey scarse affords
One more udicious, pithy in discourse,
Sound in his reasons, or of more remorce,
To such as are distressed, for he'l take,
The pore mans cause, though he be nere so weake.
And much haue I admir'd him in Surueigh
Of his deserts showne more from day to day,
That he should so disualue worldly praise,
When euery man seekes his esteeme to raise.
And worthyly, for neuer nature brought
Foorth to the world a man so meanely wrought,
Of such rare workemanship as you shall finde,
In th' exquisite perfection of his minde.
Yea, if too partiall though't I should not be,
(In that he hath been still a friend to me)
I could expresse such arguments of loue,
As were of force th' obduratst hearts to moue,
To admiration of those vertues rest,
Within the generous table of his brest,
But I haue euer hated so has hee,
“To paint mens worths in words of flatterie.
Yea I'doe know it derogates from worth,
To haue her selfe in colours shadow'd forth,
Sith vertue rather craues for to be knowen
Vnto her selfe, then vnto others showen.
Onely thus much ile say; ordain'd he was,
Euen in his Cradle others to surpasse.
Since for his education it may seeme,
Being in mountaines bred, that it was meane.
But now of such an equall forme combin'de
As he is strong in body and in minde.
Sincerely honest, and so well approu'd,
As where he is not known, hee's heard & lou'd,
So as on Mountaines born, his thoughts aspire,
To Sions mount, & Ioues triumphant quire.
Another there's, who howsoere he seeme,
In th' eie of some distemper'd iudgements mene.
In vnderstanding, I doe know his wit,
Out-strips the most of those that censure it.
Besides theres in him parts of more desert
For Nature is supplide in him by Art.
And wheras som to's wit impute the wrong,
I rather doe impute it to his tongue.
Since well I know by due experience,
(At such times as he deign'd me conference)
For reading profound reason ripe conceipts,
Discourse of stories, arguing of estates,
Such generall iudgement he in all did show,
As I was wrapt with admiration, how
Mē could esteem so menely (hairebraind-elues)
Of such an one was wiser then themselues.
Its true indeed, hee's not intemperate.
(As this age fashions) nor opinionate,
But humble in his iudgement, which may be,
Some cause that he is censur'd as we see.
Alas of griefe, none should be deemed wise,
But such as can like timists temporizè.
Expose their reputation to the shame
Of an offensiue or iniurious name.
Whereas if we true wisdome vnderstood,
We'd think non could be wise but such wer good.
And though we question thus, asking what mā?
Vnlesse he be a polititian,
Yet pollicie will be of small auaile,
When that arch polititian Machauell,
Shall flame and frie in his tormented soule,
Because to th' world wise, to heauen a foole.
Yea I doe wish (if ere I haue a sonne)
He may be so wise, as haue wit to shun
A selfe conceipt of being soly wise,
In his owne bleared and dim-sighted eies,
For then I know there will in him apeare,
A Christian zealous and religious feare,
Which like an Angell will attend him still,
Mouing to good, and waine him from whats ill.
And far more comfort should I haue of him,
Then if through vaine conceipt he should begin
To pride him in his follies, for by them,
We see how many roote out house and name,
Yea of all vertues which subsisting be,
None makes more perfect then humilitie.
Since by it man deemes of himselfe and's worth,
As of the vilest worme the earth brings forth.
Which disesteeming I may boldly name,
More noble then to glorie in our shame.
For it doth leade vs in a glorious path,
With safest conduct from the day of wrath.
When standig 'fore that high Tribunall there
We're found far better then wee did appeare.
And such is hee-yet haue I heard it vowde,
“Hee has not witt enough for to bee proude.
VVheras wee know, and by experience see,
That fooles bee still the proudest men that be.
Nor is he onely humble, for I heare,
Of other proper vertues which appeare
In his well tempred disposition, when
I hear of no complaints mongst poorer men,
Who are his tenaunts for he has report,
Of shewing mercy, and is blessed for't.
And is not this a poynt of wisedome, say?
For to prouide thus for another day
That for terrestriall things, hee may obtayne
A farre more glorious and transcendent gayne.
Sure (I doe thinke) there is no foole to him,
That does enrich his progeny by sinne,
Makes shipwrack of a conscience, bars himselfe,
Of after hopes to rake a little pelfe.
Ruines his soule, and ads vnto the store,
Of his accounts, by racking of the pore.
VVhereas ofth' other side hees truely wise,
(Though not to man, yet in thalmighties eies.
Who pitty and compassion doth professe,
To th' forlorne widdow and the fatherlesse,
Does right to all men, nor will make his tongue,
An aduocate for him who's in the wrong;
Accepts of no aduantage, which may seeme
To staine his conscience, or to mak't vncleane:
Hates an oppressors name, and all his time,
Was neuer wont to take too great a fine.
Beares himselfe blamelesse before God and man.
Hee's truely wise, or much deceau'd I am.
Indeed he is, and such an one is plast,
In that same Mirror which I spake of last.
VVho without assentation may be said,
To haue a patterne vnto others laid,
In actions of this kind, yea I may sweare,
Rather for these respects I hold him deare,
Then for his state, which may be well exprest,
To equall, if not to surmount the best.
But Iu'e too farre digrest, in breefe it's he,
VVho hates the leuen of the Pharisee,
And (which is rare) 'mongst richer men to find,
He counts no wealth like th' riches of the mind.
How happy you (Graue Elders) to haue these,
Assistants in your peace, meanes for your ease,
So as their serious care ioyn'd to their powers,
May seeme in some degree to lessen yours,
For powers vnited, make the army stronger,
“And minds combin'd preserue that vnion longer.
O may there be, one mind and one consent,
(Cohering in one proper continent)
One firme opinion, generall decree,
Amongst you all concurring mutually:
And may your Throne, which such good men affords,
Nere fall at oddes by multiplying words,
Since the spirit of contention stirres our blood,
And makes vs oft neglect a publique good.
Thus with my best of wishes, I will end,
Resting your euer true deuoted friend.

To all true-bred Northerne Sparks, of the generous society of the Cottoneers,

who hold their High roade by the Pinder of Wakefield, the Shoo-maker of Brandford, and the white Coate of Kendall: Light gaines, Heauie Purses, good Tradings, with cleere Conscience.

To you my friends that trade in blacke and white,
In blacke and white doe I intend to write.
Where Ile insert such things are to be showne,
Which may in time adde glory and renowne,
To your commodious tradings, which shall be
Gracefull to you, and such content to me,
As I should wish, at least my lines shall tell,
To after-times, that I did wish you well,
And in my obseruations seeme to show,
That due respect I to my country owe.
First therefore ere I further goe, Ile proue,
Wherein no lesse, Ile manifest my loue,
Then in the greatest: that of all haue beene,
Shall be, or are, you seeme the worthiest men,
And this's my reason; which may grounded be,
On the firme arches of Philosophy;
We say, and so we by experience find,
In man there is a bodie and a mind,
The body is the couer and in it
The minds internall soueraignnesse doth fit,
As a great Princesse, much admired at,
Sphered and reared in her chaire of state,
While th' body like a hand-maid prest t'obey,
Stands to performe, what ere her mistresse say.
Yea some compare this bodies outward grace,
Unto a dainty fine contriued case,
Yet for all th' cost which is about her spent,
She sounds but harsh, without her instrument,
Which is the soule: others resembled haue,
The bodies feature to a sumptuous graue,
Which garnisht is without full tricke and trim,
Yet has nought else, but sculls and bones within.
Others compare the beauty of the mind,
To pith in trees, the body to the rind.
But of all others haue bene, be, or were,
In my opinion none doth come so neere,
In true Ressmblanes (nor indeed there can)
Then twixt the mind and lining of a man,
For its the inward substance which to mee,
Seemes for to line the body inwardly,
With ornaments of vertue, and from hence,
As he excells, we draw his excellence.
Then, my deere countrimen, to giue your due,
From whence comes mans perfection, but from you
That doe maintaine with credit your estate,
And sells the best of man at easie rate,
To wit, the minds resemblance, which is gotten,
By those same linings which you sell of Cotten.
For see those thin breech Irish lackies runne,
How small i'th wast, how sparing in the bombe,
VVhat Iacke a Lents they are: yet view them when
They haue beene lin'd by you, theyr proper men,
Yea I may say, man is so strange an Elfe,
VVithout your helpe, hee lookes not like himselfe.
Indeed if we were in some parts of those,
Sun-parched countries, where they vse no clothes,
But through the piercing violence of heat,
VVhich in some places is intemporate,
Th' inhabitants go naked, and appeare
In grisly sort, as if they frenticke were,
Then you that make vs man-like, should not need,
Nor your profession stand in any steed,
For why? the clymate which we then should haue,
No Bombast, Cotten, or the like would craue:
Since scorching beames would smoulder so about them,
As th' dwellers might be hot enuffe without them.
But heer's an Island that so temprate is,
As if it had plantation to your wish.
Neither so hote, but that we may abide,
Both to be clad and bombasted beside.
Neither so cold, but we may well allow it,
To weare such yarne, a blind man may looke through it.
Its true indeed, well may it be confest,
If all our parts were like some womens brest.
Bared and painted with pure Azure veines,
Though of themselues they haue as many staines,
And riueld wrinkles, with some parts as badde,
Then th' crooked Greeke Thersytes euer had,
It might be thought your gaines would be so small,
As Ime perswad'd they would be none at all:
But thanks be giuen to heauens supernall powers,
Which sways this Masse of earth, that trade of yours,
Hath her dependance fixt in other places,
Then to be tide to womens brests or faces.
Let Painters and Complexion sellers looke,
To their crackt ware, you haue another booke
To view into, then they haue to looke in,
For yours's an honest trade, but their's is sin.
Next I expresse your worth in, shall be these,
First, your supportance of poore families,
Which are so weake in state, as I much doubt me,
They would be forc't to begge or starue without ye.
The second is, (wherein you'ue well deserued,
The care you haue to see your Country serued,
Not as such men who liue by forraine Nations,
Impouerishing this Land by transportations,
For their depraued Natures be well showne,
By louing strangers better then their owne;
Or as it seemes, to sucke their Mothers bloud,
Their Natiue Countrie for a priuate good.
The third and last, which heere exprest shall be,
Shall reference haue to your Antiquity,
All which I will dilate of, and though I
Cannot describe ech thing so mouingly,
As I could wish, yet take it in good part,
Proceeding from the centre of a heart,
That did this taske and labour vndertake,
For your profession and your countries sake,
Whose ayre I breath'd, O I were worthy death,
Not to loue them, who suck't with me one breath.
How many Families supported be,
Within the compasse of one Barronry,
By your profession I may boldly show,
(For what I speake, I by obseruance know.)
Yea by eye-witnesse, where so many are,
Prouided for by your peculiar care,
As many would the beggars be (I wot)
If your religious care releeu'd them not.
For there young brats, as we may well suppose,
Who hardly haue the wit to don their clothes,
Are set to worke, and well can finish it,
Being such labours as doe them befit:
Winding of spooles, or such like easie paine,
By which the least may pretty well maintaine
Themselues, in that same simple manner clad,
As well agrees with place where they were bred.
Each plies his worke, one cards, another spins,
One to the studdles goes, the next begins
To rauell for new wefte, thus none delay,
But make their webbe-vp, 'gainst each Market-day,
For to preserue their credit: but pray see,
Which of all these for all their industry,
Their early rising, or late sitting vp,
Could get one bit to eat, or drop suppe.
If hauing wrought their webbes, their forc't to stand,
And not haue you to take them off their hand.
But now by th' way, that I my loue may shew,
Vnto the poorer sort as well as you,
Let me exhort you, in respect I am,
Vnto you all both friend and Countriman,
And one that wisheth, if hee could expresse,
What's wishes be vnto your Trade successe,
As to himselfe, these pooremen (vnder fauour)
Who earne their meanes so truly by their labour,
Should not (obserue me) bee enforc't to wait,
“For what you owe, and what's their due, so late,
Time vnto them is pretious, yea one houre,
If idlye spent, is charges to the poore:
Whose labour's their Reuenue: doe but goe,
To Salomon, and he will tell you so,
Who willeth none, expresly to fore-slow,
To pay to any man what they doe owe,
But, if they haue it, not to let them stand,
Crauing their due, but pay it out a hand.
Say not vnto thy friend (saith Salomon)
I haue not for thee now, but come anon:
For why shouldst thou that hast wherewith to pay,
Put of till morrow, what thou maist to day
Beleeue me friends I could not choose but speake,
And caution you of this, for euen the weake
And impotent, whose soules are full as deere,
As be the Monarchs, whisper in mine eare,
And bid mee tell you yet to haue a care,
Not to expresse their names what men they are,
For then they doubt that you to spite them more,
Would make them stay, farre longer then before.
That you would see their iniuries redrest,
Of which they thinke, you were not yet possest.
But in transferring of the charge to such,
As be your Factors, which haue had small tutch
Of others griefes: your selues haue had the blame
Though't seems your Factors wel deserud the same
Nor would I haue you thinke Ime feed for this,
For they do plead in Forma pauperis
That bee my Clyents, yea Ime tied too,
In countries loue to doe that which I doe:
For euen their teares, mones, and distressed state,
Haue made me for them so compassionate,
That my soule yern'd within me, but to heare,
Their mones despisd, that were esteem'd so deere,
To their Creator, see their Image then;
And make recourse to him that gaue it them,
Whose mansion is aboue the highest sphere,
And bottles vp the smallest trickling teare,
Shed by the poorest soule, (which in a word)
Shall in that glorious synod beare record:
Where for the least non-payment which we owe,
Shall passe this doome—Away ye cursed, goe.
But I do know by my Experience,
The most of you haue such a Conscience,
As in that day, what euer shall befall,
Your sincere soules will as a brazen wall,
Shield you from such a censure; for to me,
Some doe I know bore such integrity.
As I dare well auow't, tis rare to find,
In such a crazie time, so pure a mind.
But now I must descend (as seemes to me)
From the releefe of many Familie,
By you supported, to your speciall care,
To see your country serued with good Ware;
Which of all others (if well vnderstood)
Seemes to haue ayme most at a publique good.
VVell it appeares, euen by your proper worth,
That you were borne for her that brought you forth,
Not for your selues, which instanced may be,
In that you ayme at no Monopoly,
No priuate staples, but desire to sell,
(VVhich of all other seem's approu'd as well,)
Your Ware in publique places, which may stand
No more for your auaile, then good of th' land.
Nor are you carelesse what it is you bring,
Vnto your Country, for your customing,
Dependance has vpon that due esteeme,
They haue of you, that are the same you seem,
Plaine home-bred chapmen (yet of such due note)
Their word is good, how plaine so ere's their coat.
Yea doe I wish, I may haue such as they,
Ingag'd to me, for they'l do what they say,
When silken coats, and some of them I know,
Will say farre more then ere they meane to doe.
Therefore it much concernes you to produce,
That which you know is for a common vse.
Not for the eye so much as for the proofe,
For this doth tend most to your owne behoofe:
VVhere Reputation doth such custome gaine,
As being got is seldome lost againe.
Yet sure methinks my Friends, you put to th' venture,
VVhen your commodities are stretcht on th' tenter,
So that as I haue heard, when come to weting
They shrinke a yard at least, more then is fitting.
Yet doe I heare you make excuse of this.
That for your selues you know not what it is:
And for your Factors what they take, they pay,
If Shere-men stretch them so, the more knaues they.
It's true they are so, yet for all you vse
These words, beleeu't, they'l serue for no excuse,
For if you will be Common-weales men, know,
VVhether your Shere-men vse this feate or no,
Before you buy, (which found) reprooue them then,
Or else auoid such tenter-hooking men.
There is a Gallant in this towne I know,
(Who damnd himselfe, but most of them doe soe)
If that he had not, to make cloake and suit,
Some thirty yards of rug or thereabout,
Yet hardly came to fifteene afterward,
It had beene measur'd by the Taylors yard.
Now was not this too monstrous and to badde,
That it should leese full halfe of that it had?
I know not what to thinke (but to be breefe)
Either the Taylor was an arrant theefe,
And made no bones of Theft, which is a crime,
Most Taylors will dispence with at this time:
Or sure, if my weake wit can iudge of it,
The rugge was tentred more then did befit:
But you will say, the Gallant sure did lie,
Faith if you be of that minde so am I,
For its searce possible so much to put,
In Cloake and sute, vnlesse heed cloath his gut?
(And thats of th' largest size) and so't may be,
For I'ue heard one skild in Anatomie,
(Auerr thus much that euery gut in man
For at that time his lecture then began,)
VVas by due obseruation knowne to be
Seauen times his length: so that it seemes to me
If this be true, which Naturalists doe teach,
The Taylor plaid the man to make it reach,
So far, for sure the yards could not be small,
That were to make cloake, sute, cloath guts, and all.
But I doe finde you guiltlesse, for I know,
As to your Countrey, you your liues doe owe,
If priuare harmes might propagate her good,
(For Countries loue extends vnto our blood)
So there's no Commerce which you entertaine,
Aymes not in some part at a publique gaine;
And that's the cause, Gods blessings doe renew
Making all things to cotton well with you.
“Now to the third Branch, is my muse addrest,
To make your Trades Antiquity exprest,
If I had skill but rightly to define,
Th' originall foundation and the time,
The cause of your encrease, and in what space,
The people you Commerst with, and the place
Of your first planting, then it might appeare,
Vpon what termes your priuiledges were:
But so onfus'd be times antiquities,
As it is hard directly to show these,
In what especiall sort they were begun,
(Yet I may doe what other men haue done)
And by coniectures make your Trade displayd
Speaking in Verse, what some in prose haue saide
Some are opiniond that your trade began
From old Carmentis, who in colours span
Such exquisit rare works, as th' webs she wrought
Were farre and nere by forrain nations sought.
And as it may in ancient writ appeare.
The Phrigian works were said to com from her.
But now the better to vnfolde the same,
Know that there were two women of that name,
The one (for Stories manifest no lesse)
Euanders mother was, a Prophetesse,
Who wrot and spake in verse with such a grace,
As she renoumd the Countrey where she was.
The other was a Spinster, which did come,
Along with Aquila (when he from Rome
Marching amaine, lancht forth for Britanie)
Which Coast Carmentis did no sooner see,
Then she admir'd, for well she saw by vse.
Th' inhabitants would proue industrious.
So as in those daies rude, they grew in time,
Specially Nooth-ward) by her discipline,
To become ciuill, and where prompt to doe,
Any set Taske this Matron put them to.
Touching the place where she plantation had,
Diuers Historians haue so differed,
As hardly iumpe they by a hundred mile,
And therefore difficult to reconcile
Their different opinions: for they striue,
Amongst themselues, & aske wher shes'd ariue?
Since it appeares when Aquila came ashore,
Saue 3 or 4 choice dames, there were no more.
Of woman kinde with him: for he was loath,
To ship such old hags, were not for his tooth,
And therefore such as bewty did adorne,
Wer shipt with him: for they would serue his turne
To reconcile these doubts, which seems a wōder,
Know that his fleet deuided was a sunder.
And driuē to sundry creeks, som East, som west,
Som North, som South; for so they wer distrest.
By aduerse winds (as forced from together)
They were disperst, they knew not where, nor whither.
In which auspicious tempest, happy stray,
For happy was that tempest may you say,
This modest matron with an heauy heart,
Reft of her friends ariued ith North part,
With som young maids which Aquila did minde
To bring along to keepe his men in winde.
The Port when she ariud (as't seemes to me,
For I doe ground on probability,
Drawne from the clime & Ports description)
Was the rich hauen of ancient VVorkington,
Whose stately prospect merits honours fame,
In nought more noble then a Curwens name.
And long may it reserue that name whose worth,
Hath many knights from that descent brought forth,
For if to blaze true fame (I ere haue skill),
In Bouskill ioynd with Curwen show't I will.
Carmentis thus ariud did trauaile on
To find finde some place fit for plantation:
For then that Coast as we in stories reade,
Lay wholy wast, and was vnpeopled.
Where in her progresse by the way she came,
She gaue to sundry places disserent name.
“Mongst which her owne name, whence it is they say,
Cartmell or Carment-hill holds to this day
Her Appelation: and now neere an end
Of her set iourney, as she did descend
Downe from the neighbouring Mountaines, she might spie,
A woody vale, seat'd deliciously.
Through which a pleasant Riuer seemd to glide,
VVhich did this vale in equall parts deuide,
This hauing spide, (on Stauelaies Cliffes they say)
She laid her staffe, whence comes the name Staffe-lay.
Corruptly Staulay, where she staid a space,
But seeing it a most notorious place,
And that the trades men were so giuen to th' Pot,
That they would drinke far more then ere they got.
She turnd from thence, yet left some Maids behinde.
That might acquaint them in this wool worke kinde.
VVhile she did plant as ancient Records be,
Neerer to Kendall in th' Barronrie.
Thus haue I drawne your linage as it was,
For other Accidents I let them passe,
Onely such things as most obseruant were,
(As the erection of your Sturbidge faire.
I thought to shadow briefely, which began,
On this occasion by a Kendall man,
Who comming vp or downe I know not well,
Brought his commodities that way to sell:
Where being benighted, tooke no other shield,
To lodge him and his ware then th' open field:
A Mastiffe had he, or a mungrill Cur,
Which he still cride and cald on, Stur-bitch stur,
Least miching knaues now fore the spring of day,
Should come perchance, and filch his ware away.
From hence they say tooke Sturbidge first her name,
VVhich if she did, she neede not think't a shame,
For noble Princes, as may instanc'd be,
From Braches had their names as well as she:
Such Romulus and Remus were, whose name
Tane from a she-Wolfes dug, raisd Romes first fame,
Yea Cyrus which 's as ill, (if not far worse,)
Had but a Bitch (cal'd Spacon) for his nurse.
For in descents, it is our least of care,
To aske what men once were, but what they are.
Sith great estates, yea Lordships raisd we see,
(And so shall still) from th' ranke of beggarie.
Yea Peasants (such hath been their happy fate)
VVithout desert haue come to great estate,
For true it is was said so long agon,
A paltry Sire may haue a Princely Sonne.
“But hast my Muse in colours to display,
Some auncient customes in their high roade-way,
By which thy louing Countrey men doe passe,
Conferring that now is, with what once was,
At least such places labour to make knowne,
As former times haue honour'd with renowne.
So by thy true relation 't may appeare
They are no others now, then as they were,
Euer esteem'd by auntient times records,
Which shall be shadow'd briefly in few words.
The first whereof that I intend to show,
Is merry Wakefield and her Pindar too;
Which Fame hath blaz'd with all that did belong,
Vnto that Towne in many gladsome song:
The Pindars valour and how firme he stood,
In th' Townes defence 'gainst th' Rebel Robin-hood,
How stoutly he behav'd himselfe, and would,
In spite of Robin bring his horse to th' fold,
His many May games which were to be seene,
Yeerely presented vpon Wakefield greene,
Where louely Iugge and lustie Tib would go,
To see Tom-liuely turne vpon the toe;
Hob, Lob, and Crowde the fidler would be there,
And many more I will not speake of here:
Good god how glad hath been this hart of mine
To see that Towne, which hath in former time,
So florish'd and so gloried in her name,
Famous by th' Pindar who first rais'd the same?
Yea I haue paced ore that greene and ore,
And th' more I saw't, I tooke delight the more,
“For where we take contentment in a place,
“A whole daies walke, seemes as a cinquepace:
Yet as there is no solace vpon earth,
Which is attended euermore with mirth:
But when we are transported most with gladnesse,
Then suddenly our ioyes reduc'd to sadnesse,
So far'd with me to see the Pindar gone,
And of those iolly laddes that were, not one
Left to suruiue: I griev'd more then Ile say,
(But now for Brad-ford I must hast away).
Brad-ford if I should rightly set it forth,
Stile it I might Banberry of the North,
And well this title with the Towne agrees,
Famous for twanging, Ale, Zeale, Cakes and Cheese:
But why should I set zeale behinde their ale?
Because zeale is for some, but ale for all;
Zealous indeed some are (for I do heare,
Of many zealous sempring sister there)
Who loue their brother, from their heart iffaith.
For it is charity, as scripture saith,
But I am charm'd, God pardon what's a misse,
For what will th' wicked say that heare of this,
How by some euill brethren 't hath been sed,
Th' Brother was found in's zealous sisters bed?
Vnto thy taske my Muse, and now make knowne,
The iolly shoo-maker of Brad-ford towne,
His gentle-craft so rais'd in former time
By princely Iourney-men his discipline,
“VVhere he was wont with passengers to quaffe,
“But suffer none to carry vp their staffe
Vpon their shoulders, whilst they past through town
For if they did he soon would beat them downe.
(So valiant was the Souter) and from hence,
Twixt Robin-hood and him grew th' difference;
VVhich cause it is by most stage-poets writ,
For breuity, I thought good to omit,
“Descending thither where most bound I am,
“To Kendall-white-coates, where your trade began.
Kendall (to which I all successe do wish)
May termed be that parts Metropolis,
For seate as pleasant, as the most that are,
Instanc't in th' ruin'd Castle of Lord Par.
(For seate imparaled); where we may see,
“Great men to fall as subiect are as we:
Yea there (as in a mirror) may be showen,
The Subiects fall rests in the Soueraigne's frowne.
Many especiall blessings hath the Lord,
Pour'd on this Towne, for what doth't not afford
(If necessary for mans proper vse)
Sufficient, if not superfluous?
Yea I dare say (for well it doth appeare)
That other places are more bound to her,
Then she to any, there's no Towne at all,
(Being for compasse so exceeding small,
For commerce halfe so great, nor is there any
That doth, consort in trafficke, with so many.
But to her priuate blessings, for pure aire,
Sweet holesome water, she may make compare
With any clime, for aire nor piercing is,
Nor in her temprate brething, too remisse:
For water, Kent, whence Kendall takes her name,
VVhose spring (from Kent-mere) as they say, is tane:
Swift is't in pace, light-poiz'd, to looke in cleere,
And quicke in boiling (which esteemed were)
Such qualities, as rightly vnderstood
Without'en these, no water could be good.
For Wood (how well she was in fore-time growne)
May soone appeare by th' store that is cut downe,
Which may occasion griefe, when we shall see
What want shall be to our posteritie:
Yet who seekes to preuent this surely none,
Th' old prouerbe's in request, each man for one,
While each for one, one plots anothers fall,
“And few or none respect the good of all.
But of all blessings that were reckoned yet,
In my opinion there is none so great,
As that especiall one which they receiue,
By th' graue and reuerend Pastor which they haue;
Whose life and doctrine are so ioint together,
(As both sincere, there's no defect in either,)
For in him both Urim and Thummim be,
O that we had more Pastors such as he:
For then in Sion should Gods flocke encrease,
“Hauing such Shepheards would not flea but fleece;
Thus what wants Kendal that she can desire,
Tyre's her Pastor, and her selfe is Tyre,
He to mistrust her people, she to bring,
Wealth to her Towne by forraine trafficking?
Now must I haue the White-coates vnder-hand
Who were in fore-time a defence to th' land:
Yea such they were, as when they did appeare,
They made their foes perfume their hose for feare,
Experienst Archers, and so practis'd it,
As they would seldome shoot but they would hit.
So that though th' darters of rude Scythia,
The golden-Archers of rich Persia,
The Siluer-shields of Greece haue borne the name,
Blaz'd by the partiall trumpe of lying fame.
Yet in behalfe of Kendall (I durst sweare it)
For true renovvne these Countries came not nere it.
As for this name of White-coate vs'd to fore
It came from th' milk-white furniture they wore
And in good-sooth they vvere but home-spun fellovvs
“Yet would these white-coats make their foes dy yellows,
VVhich might by latter times be instanced,
Euen in those border-seruices they did:
But this t'expresse (since it is knowne) were vaine,
Therefore, my friends, Ile turne to you againe,
And of some speciall matters caution you,
Which being done Ile bid you all adew:
Since God hath blest you with such benefits,
As the reliefe of nature well befits,
Hauing of euery thing sufficient store,
There's reason (Country-men) you render more
To your Creator, who so kinde has been,
To you and yours aboue all other men:
(Though all (I say) should thankfull be) then such
VVho nere receiued of him halse so much.
For well you know its in the Scripture said,
Accompt for euerie Talent must be made,
And how much more our Talents are, shall we
After this life exact Accomptants be:
Be good dispencers then of what you haue,
And doe not shut your Eares to such as craue
Your charities Reliefe (for in a word)
VVhat you giue th' poore, you lend vnto the Lord,
And be you sure, your loue is not in vaine,
For with encrease hele pay it you againe:
Put not your labourer off with long delay,
But satisfie him if you can this day,
For pittie 'tis, poore soule, that he should sit
VVaiting your time when he hath earned it.
And this belieue me many crimes produces,
“Teeming of tenters and such like abuses
VVhich they are forc't to, cause they are delaide
VVorking for more, then ere they can be paide:
Be not too rigorous vnto your debtor,
(If he be poore) forbearance is far better,
For 'lasse what gaine accrewes to you thereby,
If that his carkasse doe in prison lie:
Yea, if you kept his bodie till't should rot,
Th' name of hard-hearted men were all you got.
And sure, if my opinion faile not me,
T'imprison debtors ther's no policie,
Vnlesse they able be and obstinate,
And like our Bank-rupts break t'encrease their state,
For th' poore they better may discharge their debt
VVhen they're at libertie and freedome get,
For labour may they when they are inlarg'd,
But when they die in prison all's discharg'd,
O then (my friends) if you haue such as these:
Remember to forgiue your trespasses,
At least be not extreame to th' poor'st of all,
“Giue him but time and he will pay you all.
So Time shall crowne you with an happy end,
And consummate the wishes of a friend.
So each (through peace of consciēce) rapt with pleasure
Shall ioifully begin to dance his measure.
“One footing actiuely VVilsons delight,
“Descanting on this note, I haue done what's right,
“Another ioying to be nam'd 'mongst them,
“Were made Men-fishers of poore fisher-men.
“The third as blith as any tongue can tell,
“Because he's found a faithfull Samuel.
“The fowrth is chanting of his Notes as gladly,
“Keeping the tune for th' honour of Arthura Bradly.
The 5. so pranke, he scarce can stand on ground
Asking who'le sing with him Mal Dixons round?
But where haue been my sences all this while,
That he (on whom prosperity doth smile)
And many parts of eminent respect,
Should be forgotten by my strange neglect?
Take heede my Muse least thou ingratefull be,
For well thou knowes he better thinkes of thee:
On then (I say) expresse what thou dost wish,
And tell the woreld truely what he is:
He's one has shar'd in Nature speciall part,
And though beholding little vnto art,
Yet beare his words more emphasis or force,
Then most of th' Schollers that I heare discourse,
His word keeps tutch (and of all men I know)
He has th' best inside for so meane a shewe,
Outwardly bearing, temperate, yet will be
Abonus socius in good company.
He vnderstands himselfe (as I haue sayd)
And therefore aymes whereto he first was made,
In briefe 'mongst all men that deserue applauding,
None (hauing lesse of Art merits more lauding:
So that though true desert crowne all the rest,
Yet if ought want in them its here exprest;
But th' Euening shade drawes on, and damps the light
“Think friends on what I sayd, and so good night.

To the Worshipfull Recorder of Kendall.

For Townes-abuses (worshipfull Recorder)
I leaue them to your discreet selfe to order:
My Iourney's at an end; hic baculum fixi,
My Tale concluded, nought now rests but Dixi
Nor would I haue you speak that, (though you may)
“Which I haue heard a countrie Maior did say,
Vnto a Scholler, who concluded had
His latine speech with Dixi I haue sayd:
To whom th' vnletter'd Maior to aproue the same
Replying thus, tooke Dixi for his name.
“If that thy name be Dixi sure I am,
Dixi's learned vnderstanding man.

To the Lands-lord wheresoeuer.

Lands-lord to thee, addrest to speake I am,
And full as much to thee as any man:
For many Errors and fowle crimes I knowe
That thou art more then others subiect toe,
Which ile in part, vnrip, and so make cleere,
As in that day, when all men shall appeare
Before their heauenly Lands-lord, where is had
A dew accompt: This now which I haue sayd
May be a witnesse, and beare record still,
That thou didst know before thy Maisters will,
Which not perform'd thou know'st what thou hast read
“With manie stripes thou shalt be chastised,
But first, ere I proceed, so great's the cries
Of widdowes, and so many tere-swolne eyes
Of Orphanes succourlesse that reach to heauen,
As I'me well-nigh into amazement driuen,
And cannot perfect what I do entend,
Vntill I see their sorrowes at an end,
At least allayd (for I am forc't to keepe,
A consort with these silly soules that weep:)
So moouing is their passion (as in briefe)
So strong's compassion, I do feele their griefe.
VVherefore I must (so great is griefes extent)
Perswade these blubbert wretches be content,
And beare with patience, till the Lord shall send,
In his good time vnto their sorrowes end:
VVhich to expresse the better I will moue them
In mildest tearmes; and thus will speak vnto them.
Cease, cease (poore iuiur'd soule) your teres to shed,
Weeping for that cannot be remeded,
'Lasse you are farre deceiu'd; if you suppose
Teres can moue Lands-lords: they are none of those,
Their dispositions are more harder far,
Then any other of Gods creatures are:
For tell me (starueling) hath thy trickling eye,
Pale-colourd uisage heauen ascending crie,
Earth bending knees hart throbbing languishment,
Eccoing sighs, souls-fretting discontent,
Famine at home, surcharg'd with sorrowes loade,
Debt with a Sergeant dogging thee abroad,
Haue any these whereof thou hast had part,
Been of that force to mollifie his heart?
Haue all thy cries and Orphanes teres together
Moou'd him? ô no: they are as if a fether,
Were here and there tost with each gale of winde,
Thou shalt not finde that temper in his mind:
For he is cauteris'd and voide of sence,
And thanks his God he has a conscience,
Can stand remorcelesse 'gainst both winde and weather,
(Though he and's Conscience goe to hell together,
Yea he doth feele no more thy piteous mone,
Then doth an Anuile when its strooke vpon.
Why then shouldst thou thus striue against the streame,
T'importune him that seemes as in a dreame,
Secure of hell, carelesse of thy distresse?
Fie take vpon thee some more manlinesse,
Rouse thy deiected spirits which now lie,
As if surprised by a lethargie;
Wipe, wipe those eyes with briny streamelings drownd,
And plant thy selfe vpon a firmer ground,
Then thus to wast thy griefe enthralled heart,
Which done: pray tell me but, what better art?
Well, if thou wilt but silence thy iust wrong
For one halfe howre, or hardly for so long,
Ile shew the best I can of art and skill,
With an vnbounded measure of good will,
To tell thy cruell lord, that there's a doome
As well as here in after time to come:
Ile tell him boldly though I chance to moue him
For all he's lord, there is a Lord aboue him,
Before whose throne he must come to account;
For Syons-Lord is that Lord Paramount,
Who swayes the massie orbe of heauen and earth,
Brething on euery creature that brings forth,
It's he that giues to each increase and store,
Girdling the swelling Ocean with a shore:
The proudest Peeres he to subiection brings,
And prostrate lies the Diadems of Kings:
By him oppressors feele there is a God,
That can reuenge and chastice with his rodde;
Yea, thy iniurious Lord, I meane to tell
Though he thinks of no hell, he's finde a hell.
And those distreaming teres which thou hast shed,
Are by thy louing father bottled,
For there's no teres, sighs, sorrowes, grieues or mones,
Which come from any of his little-ones
But in his due compassion still exprest
Vnto their cause, he'le see their wronges redrest.
How thinks 't of this? will not these things enforce
In thy relentlesse Lands-lord a remorse,
Sooner and deeper (of that minde am I)
Then puling with thy finger in thine eye.
Well I will make attempt (which if it fall
Out to my wishes as I hope it shall)
The onely fee which I expect of thee,
Is that thou wouldst poure out thy prayers for me,
Meane time pray for thy selfe (while I expresse
Thy grieues, and heauens grant to my hopes successe.)
Now (rent-inhauncer) where away so fast?
Pray stay a little sit for all your haste:
Perchance you may more profit by your stay,
Then if you should leaue me and goe your way:
For I coniecture whither you are going,
Nay, (doe not blush) to some poore snakes vndoing,
To root out some poore Family or other;
Speake freely man do not your conscience smother;
Ist not (you Suck-blood) to oppresse the poore,
And put him and his children out a dore;
Ist not to take aduantage on some thing
Or other for his vtter ruining:
Ist not because thou art not halfe content
That he should sit vpon so easie rent.
And therefore takes occasion vpon naught,
Forgiuing somthing he neither said, nor thought.
If such effects make thee abroad to come,
Thou might with safer conscience stay at home.
For whence be these exactions thus to stretch,
And racke thy Tenants? thou wilt say, t'enrich
Thy priuate Coffers, which in time may, be
A faire estate to thy posteritie.
Or if not to encrease thy wealth, or store,
For to maintaine thy ryot or thy whore.
O thou forlorne and miserable man,
Come these conclusions from a Christians?
Be these the ends whereto thou wert created,
To loue those things which make thy soule most hated?
Ime sorry for thee, (yet vnhappy Elfe)
Why should I grieue that grieues not for thy selfe?
How canst thou thinke thy children shall possesse,
Long that estate is got by wickednesse?
Or how imaginst that it can succeede
VVell with thy short liu'd heires, or with their seede,
VVhen all that welth (was gathered to their hand.)
Came from the cries and curses of the land?
No no, thou greedy spunge that sucks vp store,
Yet more thou suckes, thou needest still the more.
Euill got goods (howbeit neare soe fayre)
Seldome enioyed are by th' third heire
For wauering is that slate is raisd by wrong,
Built its on Sand, and cannot hold out long.
Yea I haue seene (euen in that little time
Which I haue liu'd) Som of you in their prime.
And so erected to the height of state,
As you might seeme to be admired at.
For braue attendance, sumptuous attire,
For fare & pleasure what you could desire.
In building gorgeous so as you might be
Styled the heires of Earths felicitie.
Yet 'lasse (againe) how quickly haue I seene,
These men shrunke downe, as if they had not been:
Their pompe decreas'd, their great attendance gon,
And for their many dishes one, or none?
True; for how can it any other's chuse,
Since God hath promisd not to blesse that house,
Which aimes at welth, and honour, for to rise
By Orphanes teares, and woefull widows cries.
Then for the first thou sees how it is vaine,
To thinke that thy posterity can raigne
Or long abide in that estates possession,
Is got by fraud, collusion, or oppression.
Now I will see whereto thy labours tend,
To squize the poore that thou may better spend
On wanton consorts (Souls eternall curse)
The first was ill, but this is ten times worse.
Its well obseru'd, that when wee doe begin,
One sinne's attended by an other sinne.
They come in paires, which seemes approud to be.
In none oppressor better then in thee.
Its not enough to prey vpon the Poore,
But thou must spend his state vpon thy whoore.
So that me thinkes I almost might auer,
Its rather he then thou maintaineth her.
Must his night cares and early rising to,
His dayly labours, when and where to sow
His painefull tillage, and his slender fare,
His griefe when's crops the lesse successiue are,
His many howers of want, few of content,
His special care to pay his Lands-lords rent,
Must he that earnes his liuing best we know,
(Being as God command'd) in's sweat ofs Brow,
Must he the sleepes with many a troubled head,
To finde his wife and hungry children bread,
Must he (I say) for all his lifes disquiet,
Maintaine thy whoredome and excessiue riot,
Must he support thee in thy vaine delights,
Thy midnight reuels, and thy pagent sights,
Thy new inuented fashions, and thy port,
Must he at th' Cart, maintaine thy pride at Court,
If this he doe? this doome to thee is giuen,
Court it on earth, thou's neuer Court in Heauen.
No Ahab no, there is no place for such,
Whom poore mens grieues and sorrowes will not tutch.
Such as will haue compassion, shall be there,
Receiud in mercy that had mercy heere.
But such as thou, who in the Pride of heart,
Had little feeling of an others smart,
Shall heare that Ue, Away thou cursed goe,
“Repent in time, or thou shalt finde it so:
For tell me? why should whorish complement
Force thee to soules eternall languishment.
Why should a minutes pleasure take from thee.
All after hope of thy felicitie,
VVhy should a painted cheeke be so sought after,
Beleeu't in common sense it merits laughter
That her complexion should by thee be sought,
That knows its not her owne, but that't was bought,
Yea one would thinke more reason theres to seeke,
“Complexion in the shop, then on the cheeke.
And better wil't with generous humors stand,
To buy't at first then at the second hand:
Both's to be bought: no difference in the sale;
The one in grosse, the other in Retaile.
O then take heede, mix not two sinnes in one,
Sinnes linkt together make the soule to groane.
Their burdens heauy yea tis such as they,
Draws in in Cart-ropes (as the Prophets say)
But if thou wilt needes to perdition run,
And follow on that chase thou hast begun,
If thou wilt make thy body (in few words)
A filthy Caske, or Cage of vncleane birds,
If that same soule, which should a Temple be,
And dedicated to Gods Maiesty,
Must now be made (it grieues me to expres)
A stew for Harlots and licentiousnesse.
Yet let not thy oppression be the meanes
For to maintaine such prostituted queanes,
That doe expose themselues to publique shame,
“One sin's enough: shun thou oppressions name.
I know indeede what was of Ahab tould
Is growne a story now exceeding old.
His mouldred bones and ashes who can finde,
Yea his example's quite worne out of minde,
Since for most part, mens corps's no sooner rotten,
Then they and all their actions be forgotten.
The stories old indeed, its true they say,
Yet is the vse experienst euerie day,
“Ech day we see a silly Naboth slaine,
“And euery day a wicked Ahab raigne.
Who if he see one plat of ground that is
Delightfull in his eye, or bordering his;
Whether't be vineyard, garden, or that land,
(The front I mean) where Naboths house doth stand,
He cannot be content till he has got,
By fraud or violence, that same neighbouring plot.
For like an eye-sore, it did euer grieue him,
Nor till ge gain'd it, would he euer leaue him.
Yet for all this, our moderne Ahabs they,
No sooner heare what sacred Scriptures say,
Of that example, then they straight begin,
To giue a curse to Ahab and his sinne.
Who made no bones (poore Naboth to denye him)
To haue one little Vineyard lying by him.
Cruell he was, say they, and well deseru'd
His punishment; for he was rightly seru'd.
To be depriu'd of all, life, realme, and crowne,
That would not suffer Naboth haue his owne.
Yea the reward did fit his Tyrant-hart,
Despoyl'd of all, that spoyld the poore of part.
So their owne iudgements (most vnhappy Elues)
That thus pronounce the sentence on themselues.
Their owne mouthes do condemn them, for by this
Each proue their guilt by th' guilt they show of his.
VVherefore as Nathan did to Dauid say,
Taking Vriahs life and wife away,
VVhere he proposd this question thereupon.
Of him had many Sheepe, another one:
Wherein indeed the Prophet shadowed,
That fact which Dauid to Vriah did,
Which when that good King heard, as th' Scripture saith
He answered straight, he hath deserued death,
Thou art the man (quoth he) so sure I am,
I may be bold to say thou art the man.
Thou Ahab, thou that by extortion gaines,
Some Skreads of Land to better thy demains.
Thou that triumphes in wrongs, and brings the crye
And curse of widdowes to thy Family.
Thou that with dainties dost that carrian feede,
That maw of thine, while such doe begge their bread,
As thou opprest, (to their extremest wrong,)
Thou art the man, Ile sing no other song.
Dost thou not yet relent? no streams of grace,
Thrilling or trickling from thy blubber't face:
No signe of reformation? Las I see,
Custome in sinne cannot relinquisht be
Vpon the instant, wherefore I must set
My resolution not to leaue thee yet,
And howsoere thou take it, I will goe,
Yet further with thee Ile not leaue thee so,
Two speciall motiues I might here produce,
To moue thee to a conscience, and to vse.
A christian-like respect to such as be,
Ordain'd by God for to liue vnder thee:
The first is: to haue eye vnto that forme
Or image, which doth euery man adorne,
Euen his creators image, which might moue
Vs to loue him for his creators loue.
The second is: a due especiall care,
Or a consideration what wee are,
Men; and in that we should be humbler still,
“Since best of vs, are Tennants but at will:
On which two branches briefly Ile dilate,
Or rather cursiuely so shadow at,
As seeing his Forme, thy little cause of pride,
This good surueigh may make thee mortified.
The comely feature which is giuen to man,
Implies the place from whence this creature came,
Euen from that fragrant garden of delight,
That Spicy Eden, where in our makers sight,
He did enioy farre more then tongue can tell,
Till from that height he to corruption fell:
Yet still retain'd his forme which first was giuen him
In Paradise, whence now the Lord had driuen him?
So precious was this forme (as he who made it,
For as we reade in Scripture, where he said it,
Let vs make man after our Image: he
Saw in this forme (I say) such maiestie
As he who (in his mercy fast did make it)
Becomming man of God, vouchsaf'd to take it.
So that what th' first man Adam did before
Christ, th' second Adam as man, did restore.
Thou sees this Image then how it was giuen
And represented by the God of heauen,
Who in his great compassions, thought 't no scorne,
That the Creator take the creatures forme.
And how canst thou (irreuerent wretch) disdaine
That forme which thy Creator did retaine?
How canst despise that image, or presume
To wrong that shape thy Sauiour did assume?
How canst thou presse that soule with discontent,
Which thy Redeemer daign'd to represent?
How canst abuse that type for hope of pelfe,
Which Christ thy louer shadowed in himselfe?
How canst thou see that image rack't to be,
VVhich in thy Christ was ract and rent for thee?
How canst endure to haue that soule bereft,
Of all releefe, and to haue nothing left,
Driuen from his house, forc't from his Tenant-right,
VVhen he that is the way, truth, life and light,
Taking his forme to satisfie for sinne,
Had not so much as house to hide him in.
Birds had their nests, and euery beast his denne,
Yet had not he what was permitt'd to them.
O let me now perswade, be not extreame,
(Its easie saies the Prouerb) to wade the streame,
Where th' foord's at lowest, recollect to minde.
His noble image, and in it thou'l finde,
Such singular impressions of reguard,
As I doe thinke thou'l honourt' afterward.
VVhen thou obseru's, ther's nothing that's in him,
VVas not before in Christ excepting sinne.
O then refine the ayme of thy intents,
In raising rents, thinke on thy Sauiours rents.
In taking of aduantage, thinke on this,
If God aduantage take for each amisse,
In what a case wert thou, how woe-begon,
That of a thousand cannot answer one?
If thou to grieue Gods little ones begin,
Thinke therewithall, that thou art grieuing him.
VVho in his mercy hares the widdowes crie,
And in his pitty wipes the Orphanes eye,
VVhich thou hast cause to thinke on, so much rather
Sith God's the widdows Iudge, the orphans Father:
And though earths Iustice, be of th' second sight,
Yet hee's so iust, hee'l doe the poorest right.
But if mans Image, which were strange, should faile,
VVith thy remorselesse conscience to preuaile,
From that transparent Mirror, Ile descend.
Though it may seeme in it to comprehend
All humane glory, yea I may say more,
The forme of God which he assum'd before,
Vnto that due obseruance, or that care,
VVhereby we come to acknowledge what we are.
Man's of a substance meane, hauing his birth,
As his first natiue Mother, from frayle Earth,
Brittle's his composition, and so weake,
Be his resolues, as hee can vndertake
Nought with so firme a purpose as may stand,
Or will not change with th' turning of a hand.
His health's a stranger to him, for when most,
It seemeth with him, it is soonest lost;
For his abiding, hee's as in a Tent,
VVherein hees militant, not permanent.
The world's his campe, his profest enemies,
VVherewith he is to grapple, they be these.
The turbulent affections of his mind,
Which euery houre is seuerally inclin'd.
The goale which he doth ayme at, or th' reward,
After the fight, hee lookes for after-ward:
Thus thou may see, in this same earthly cell,
Though dwell we seeme, indeed, we doe not dwell,
But soiourne: Its no mansion but an Inne,
Syons our home, this pilgrimage is sinne.
As for our states, we are but leacers all,
And shall be put off, when hee's pleasd to call,
Yea I may rather say (and not amisse)
VVe are the Lessees, he the Lessour is.
And howsoere our Lands-Lords make accompt,
They'r but inferiour Lords, hee's Paramount.
Then if thou wilt but duely looke vpon't,
Thy tenure stands vpon a tickle point,
Yea I doe find thy state not worth a straw,
If I haue any iudgement in the law:
And why shouldst thou bring poore men into suit,
Sith thou thy selfe hast no state absolute,
But for thy terme of life: so as methinks,
VVhen that French gibberish to my braine-pan sinks
VVhere Iohn a Stiles and 's neighbour Iohn an Okes,
VVith many other Law-baptized folkes,
Are brought in seaz'd of land, as they doe finde,
In Burrow, English, Soccage, Gauell-kinde,
Fee-tayle, fee-simple (it oft seemes to me)
These Lawyers are the simplest men that be;
Who are perswaded (and would haue vs too)
But let's discent from them:—theres fools enough:
That of al states and Tenures are possest,
Or can bee had, Fee-Simple is the best.
Whereas I thinke, if well they vnderstood,
What specially concern'd them, and their good.
They would conclude, Fee-simple will not doe,
A double-Fee is better of the two.
If we could find indeed a difference,
In th' liues of th' tenures, then there were some sence
To say, that such a tenure were the strongest;
Because by it the Tennant liues the longest.
But tell me, are not all estates that be
Subiect alike to mutability:
To the possessour you will say they are;
If vnto him, why should we further care,
Since as the Prouerbe is, when is gone,
The world's gone with him, as all in One:
O then thou Earth-bred worme, why shouldest thou vant,
As if thou wert a Lord prædominant.
Why shouldst triumph ore th' meaner sort of men,
Since thour't composd of one selfe Mould with thē?
Thou art but Adams sonne, and so are they,
Both of you fram'd and fashion'd of one clay,
Both haue one image: then compassion take,
If not for them, yet for their image sake.
For though thou canst not one good looke affoord,
To these poore snakes, they'r deere vnto the Lord,
As is thy selfe, as pretious in Gods eies,
Bought and redeemed with as great a price.
And though there be twixt Substitutes and Kings.
Superiour states, and lower vnderlings,
A difference in the world, yet there shall
Twixt them (in heauen) no difference be at all,
Onely what's good shall approbation haue,
With King and subiect, conquerer and slaue.
O then receiue the bowells of compassion,
And beare like mind, as thou dost beare like fashion:
Let thy vnrighteous Mammon get thee friends,
That when thy pilgrime daies of Labour ends,
Thou may possesse a glorious heritage,
After the period of this pilgrimage.
My lessons are but short, pray then remember,
As thou the welfare of thy soule dost tender.
“The best of vs are tennants but at will,
“And stand in hazard of disseisure still.
And though our states seeme firmer then the rest,
They are vncertaine tenures at the best.
In briefe, thou earthly Lands-lord striue to be,
As thou wouldst haue Heauens Lands-lord towards thee
Not too extreame: thou knowst the doome is giuen,
That no extortioner shall enter Heauen.
Resolue what thou wilt doe: for though it grieue me
To leaue thee yet, I am enforc't to leaue thee,
And turne vnto thy Tennant, who dismaide,
Stands heere at doore to heare what I haue said.

To the Tennant howsoeuer.

What state soeuer thou art seazed on,
Or in what Tenure thou dost hold vpon,
Il'e now addresse my speech in briefe to thee,
Wherein Iayme in part to comfort thee,
In part to rectifie what may seeme ill,
In thy peruerse and vn-conformed will;
That in them both for th' loue which I doe owe,
To him thou represents, I may so show,
That deere affection which we're bound to beare,
To one another while we soiourne heere,
As when an end of all our sorrowes are
Reduc'd to one set period, and our care
Shall haue a finall end, what I haue done,
“In loue may be approu'd when I am gone.
To moue thee vnto comfort, in a word,
I'le vse th' perswasion which I gaue thy Lord,
To humble his ambicious spirit, when
I told him of the different state of Men,
How in the eyes of men indeed they were
Esteemed great, but when they should appeare,
Before that high Tribunall, where all should,
(Though if they might auoid it, many would,)
Make their appearance, then the great should know,
They were no more respected then the low:
One aduocate, one Iudge, one barre one triall,
Conscience the onely difference, when Deniall,
Seald with abite, or th' accursed doome,
Or th' inuitation with Uenite come,
Shall in that generall iudgement there expresse,
Or weale, or woe, or hell, or happinesse:
“So as when all are summon'd fore that seat,
It's better to be good, then to be great.
For then, as well it may be vnderstood,
They onely shall be great that are found good.
But thou wilt aske, is there no comfort else?
Yes that there is, thy daily labour tells,
There's a reward of glory that's reseru'd,
For such as haue their Maister duely seru'd,
In their vocation: there's a penny too,
Which though it be not giuen vnto thee now,
Yet be assur'd, (for he that spoke't is true)
“When th' euening comes, thou shalt receiue thy due.
And though thou seeme a little while to stay,
Doe not repine, it's th' euening crownes the day.
Wouldst know what I by th' Euening doe intend?
I meane the sun-set of thy life or end
Of all thy pilgrime daies, which though they bee,
A very death, or Martyrdome to thee,
(So little ioy conceau's thou vpon earth,)
Yet wil thy Comicke end include thy mirth,
VVhen from this Vale of labour and of care,
Thou shalt vnto amount of ioy repaire.
VVhen from this floting Sea, this fading cell,
Thou shalt depart, and with thy Sauiour dwell.
Yea on thy death-bed thou art comforted,
Thinking how truly thou hast laboured.
How many carefull nights thou hast orepast,
VVithout the least of rest, how thy repast,
VVas not delightfull feeding with excesse,
But th' bread thou eate was mixt with carefulnesse;
Noe houre without affliction or some griefe,
And now to finde to all thy woes reliefe
It may no little solace the, when th' end
Of discontents shall bring thee to a friend
That will in armes of charitie receiue thee,
Where beeing lodg'd, no woe, no want can grieue thee.
Happy translation, and by so much more,
In that those Lordings which triumph'd before,
And plaid vpon thy weakenesse, now shall stand,
To th' doome which those oppressors of the land,
Are subiect to: tell me (poore wormeling) then,
What difference there will bee twixt thee and them?
Great were they heere indeed, and did resemble,
Those Bulls of Basan, yet see how they tremble,
How quicke their powerfull greatnesse is made small,
For little is their pompe, or none at all:
See, see these Cedars now are strucke with thunder,
And thogh they once sate high, their now broght vnder
Those glorious titles which gaue wings to pride,
Those gorgeous buildings made them deifide.
Those many state-attendants, more or lesse,
Like Sommer-Swallows following their successe.
Are vanish't, ruin'd, and dispersed quite,
Ther's none of these can come into their sight,
Yea which is worse in-steed of Eminence;
There is an enemy called Conscience,
That still disturbs their quiet and their rest:
VVhich if at peace there were continuall feast.
But that's impossible, such meanes as these;
Haue in themselues a thousand Witnesses,
And these poore snakes cause they did heere contemn them,
Shall with their Conscience stand there to condemne thē,
VVhere that same place, they are appointed to
Shall Tophet be, their word, yee cursed goe.
Thou seest then no difference doth appeare,
Twixt thou and them saue onely when you're heere
A little garish vanity there is,
Which doth include that happinesse of his,
Who seemes so popular, yet thou shalt see,
From thence is drawne his greatest miserie.
For (tell me) doth no that externall state,
Make him forget whereto he was create
Doth't not be lull his soule in sinnes delights,
(Not knowing how the flesh gainst spirit fights,)
VVhereby he comes, which is the worst of all,
To bring his reason to his senses thrall.
Yea I haue heard of many great mens end,
So full of feare and horrour as God send
Me lesse delights on earth, so I may haue,
A quiet easie passage to my graue.
“For reason doth informe me, rare it is,
That earths delight should bring a man to blisse.
More could I speake to comfort thy distresse,
And more I was determinde, I confesse,
To insist on thy affliction, but I found,
By my Experience this especiall ground,
Held euer firme when we doe comforts tutch,
Such is mans nature he will take too much,
Rather then too too little, yea its sed;
More haue through store of comforts surfeted,
Then such as from all outward solace pent,
Haue famisht been through inward discontent.
With Gedeons souldier therefore prest I am,
Rather to lap, and like a Ionathan,
To tutch the hony onely with my rod,
Then on this subiect make too long aboad.
Which that I may, from comfort Ile descend,
To faults in the which I would gladly mend.
That God commands from whō proceeds all power,
“Let each be subiect to's Superiour.
For it would breed confusion in the Land,
If people did admit of no commaund.
But like a Platoes Common-wealth, should be,
Subiect to none, but in equalitie.
Therefore that Lord, who of his grace doth loue vs,
Hath ranked some below vs, some aboue vs.
Aboue vs, that we might be caution'd thence,
To shew vnto them due obedience.
Below vs, that we might thereby expresse,
To them our loue, to God our thankefulnesse,
Our loue, that we might our affection show,
In loue to them that ranked are so low.
Our thankefulnesse, that we should more receiue,
Then other some, that more deserued haue.
Againe, aboue vs, to acknowledge here,
Without that power aboue, how weake we are.
Below vs, that if we vnhappy Elues,
Should grudge to see som greater then our selues,
By seeing these wee might suppose they're sent,
By their degree to bid vs be content,
In this same decent comly order then
Of high and low, great and inferiour men,
Thou ranked art, nor richest, nor most pore,
For thou seest many goe from dore to dore,
Whose scrips their store, whose wallet is their wealth,
Whose staffe's their stay, whose treasure is their health.
Now in thy ranke there's many things I wish
Thou wouldst reforme, which I doe see amisse.
“As first for all thy pouerty and want,
Thou hast a disposition arrogant:
Rash, heady, selfe-wild, prouder then thy state
Can well beare out, extreamely obstinate,
Foolishly peremptory, saucy with all,
Besides I see in thee (I must tell all)
A factious wauering nature, apt to rise
Through discontent, in any enterprise.
A very Iack Straw, or a custome asse,
Alleadging such records as neuer was.
A pest'lent member to the Kingdomes quiet,
Prone to diuision, enmity and riot,
Sower of discord, selfe-conceitedly
Wise, yet I cannot well imagine why.
Yea, I haue seene, some of thy crew to gather,
Like wild-geese for the wagging of a feather,
Making strange combinations, which did tend,
Still to their owne subuersion in the end.
Some Terme agoe on one I chanct to light,
Was come to towne to trie his tenant-right,
With whom discoursing, he impart'd to me,
Mongst other things how most iniuriously
He and the rest which held one tenure there,
About their state or title troubled were,
And therewithall alleadgd that he could show,
Customes and discords (so he said) enough,
And that from Noahs indignation, when
Of all the world there were but left 8 men;
No, this is true, quoth he, I will assure yee,
Without delayer pannelled a Iurie:
Where those 12. men (the number scarse holds right)
Rising to 12, that were before but eight,
Found that our ancestry did hold in pottage,
Now I imagine he did meane in Soccage,
Which to make sure, this Custom speakes for vs,
And he with that draws forth a Mittimus.
This I may sweare, more then a sennet after,
I could not thinke on, but was forc't to laughter.
But now to thee, for I haue done thee wrong,
To keepe me from discourse with thee so long,
Whom I resolu'd to haue aduertised,
Of these precedent errors mentioned;
“Conforme thy will vnto thy Lords commaund
In fitting things, thou liu'st vpon his land.
And art his liedge-man, therfore thou shouldst sho
Thy selfe to him, as thou thy selfe doest owe.
Vnto the Heyre to, a respect is due,
For time may come when he shall pleasure you.
Yet meane I not that thou shouldst pay a Fine,
Unto the heire now in his Fathers time,
“For if I were an heire as I am not,
“Belieue it I would thinke that fine ill got.
What I doe wish to the is briefely this,
Successe in thy estate, as thou wouldst wish,
Conformed so vnto thy Lands-Lord heire,
That with heauens Land-lord thou may liue elsewhere.