University of Virginia Library

The Parliament of England.

A Compleat Man.

A Drunkard.

A Melancholly Man.

Is one that lives in singlenesse of folly,
Whose Summum boman is his Melancholly:
A stray sheep from the fold, a piece of Earth
Digg'd from a Quarry where the Lead takes birth.
A Lute untun'd, a strange mysterious Fable,
Of one unsociably sociable:
His sighs are broken Air, and his hoarse Hum,
Like a dead March, beat on a funeral drum:
The pleasures of the world, and he, agree
As fire, and parchment, the Antipathie
Unto Time, Tune, and Mood, and wonders what
Men (when they laugh) see to be merry at:
A man of mingled thoughts, that onely tend
Unto a prosecution, without end;
One in whose head more drums and rattles are,
Than sun-shine days display in Smithfield Fair;
In company you'l finde him by these types,
He gnaws his gloves, cuts trenchers, or breaks pipes
And if you tell a story, you shall know
His approbation, by his I and No
Unpleasingly mis-plac'd, which strange applause
Hath its direction from the Speakers pause:
He sleeps with open Eye-lids, and the theam
His fansie works on, is a waking dream
Of studied nothing, which at your departing
Vanisheth (Vision-like) with sudden starting:
He's the contriver of crosse arms, fixt eyes,
Treads tractless fields, dark groves, and much complies
With mourning Mirtle, Willow, Ivie, and
The straying streams of an indented strand:
His walks are desarts, if he chance to see
The ruines of an old raz'd Priorie,
As motionlesse as the object he appears,
And sets his fansie back five hundred years;
His nights are vigils, where he nature wrongs
By measuring time, as Choristers do songs:
His own distempers make him turn so oft
From place to place, no pillow can be soft;
A down-bed is a quarry, a bare boord
Hath as much ease as feathers can afford;
He lies, sits, treads on thorns, and yet we may
Not hence infer, he is in Heavens way;
For Hell accounts such haplesse souls her own,
Whom black despair instructs to be alone;
His practice are strange looks, and doth professe
The egregious garb of studied carelesnesse,
Yet vexeth at your Boots, to see you go,
With not a span, distant from Top to Toe.
But this mad Malady doth often spring,
From the soft Mischiefe of self-humouring,
Or an affected Pride; which being crost,
The World and he, are to each other lost;
And prove so potent in imperious passion,
They ne'r admit of Reconciliation.
He's no Religion, though he do insist,
Much on the Tenents of a Separatist,
For such repugnance is in flesh and blood,
Men when alone, seldom converse with Good.
If this disease proceed from being crost
In Love, and's amorous expectation lost;
There's nothing more his extasie can move,
Then sad Romancies, where men die for Love;
Who by a queint intelligence doth finde,
That Birds chaunt out his griefs 'gainst Womankind.
He knows yon Christal Brook, or silver Boorn,
For his unhappiness, are taught to mourn;
And in carv'd Characters, each Tree shall tell,
The falseness of his fairest Florimel.
But if the rancour of this disposition,
Take root from being thwarted in Ambition,
The fierce resentments make him male-content,
And (growing great) proves oft a punishment,
To peaceful Nations; on whose ruines, he
Resolves to raise up Towers of Tyrany,
High as projected Babel; till it please,
God to destroy it, with all Languages.
He is the Bane of Government, the Fate,
And fierce affliction to the Church and State:
Not caring so his arrogancy thrives,
If the red purchase cost three Kingdomes lives.

A Plundering Coward.

Of all our Martial Evils he's the worst,
Who fain would write himself Man if he durst,
His bulk, and needlesse magnitude hath shewn
The symptomes of (what he's afraid to own)
An active honest man; although we may
Conclude, nought is more different than they;
There's lesse antipathy 'twixt Lamb, and Fox:
Honest, and Coward, is a Paradox
So great, that wiser Judgements may agree,
Poyson and Balsam have a Sympathy,
Compar'd to them; He dares not be of that
Religion he must fight for; but is what
You please to call him, which (if understood)
It shall go hard, but he will make it good:
No man like him so guilty of detraction,
But hates the words of Sword, and Satisfaction;
The hour of Six, St Georges fields, the length
Of Weapons, with a Secondary Strength;
Such circumstance as this hath power to kill,
More lightning-like than the Weeks mortal Bill
Presented to a Usurer, when he
Thinks of his crimes, and his mortality:
A Debtor meets a Sergeant with lesse fear,
Or Indian Merchants Gallies from Algier;
Yet he's the onely thing that is most froward
To his own Tribe, & speaks the base word Coward,
With such emphaticall contempt, as if
He were Bellona's Officer in chief:
He'l lie (to) and be told so, yet you may
(For ought he knows) live many a fair day
Without accounting for't; no man as he
Doth bluster so in civil company:
Or puts the Drawers and Bar-boy in fear;
But (if by hapless Chance) women be there,
His Dialect is Gunpowder, his frown,
Designs the sacking of some stately Town:
His ruddy rhetorique speaks nought but Wars,
Drums, Trumpets, Cannons, Granado's, Petars;
Hurting the Ladies with uncivil force,
To shew them how he charg'd a Troop of horse,
And kild their chief Commander: Till they pray,
He will be pleas'd to fight no more that day:
At which he cries, Ladies I must confess,
This language is not for your gentleness;
I shall be silent, but will onely tell,
How by one Cannon shot ten thousand fell,
At storming of a City; then (it may be)
Ere that, some Gentleman relieves my Lady,
That knows his vapouring, to whom he dares,
Sooner breath Blasphemy, then speak of Warrs;
A boy out-braves him, if he can but threat him,
And each man is his master that dares beat him;
(That's every man that knows him) to whom he
Hath vow'd Allegeance, Love, and Loyalty:
His Friend is one for whom he doth not care,
Because subjected not to love but fear:
He's one the town ridds without bit or snaffle,
Kick'd capable of every sort of bafflle;
And is contented to bestow the strife
(Receiv'd abroad) at home upon his wife,
Or quaking servants; nay, his very Doxy
Shall suffer, thus he grows reveng'd by proxy:
The Fidlers greatly fear him, whom he puts
To flight, or frets them to the very guts:
If Marshall law for plunder han't destroy'd him,
Ile teach you by his habit to avoid him;
His look and language are both rude, and rough,
His plump corpes laced in with larded buff
Of primitive Cows skin, which he doth regard
So much; that all his actions are Cow-ward.
His hat pinn'd up, a black patch crosse the nose,
A heavy iron sword, which fondly grows
To the kinde scabberd, and (the more to brave it)
A greasie scarfe, fat as the fist that gave it.
But if he have a fortune, you shall see
His Cowship in more glittring bravery;
Of beaver, feather, silver spurs, rich hilt,
The medall of his General in gilt,
Yet is an Armies Cipher, and doth cumber
The place he rides in, to make up the number.

A Valiant Man at Arms.

He is the Magazine of Mental treasure,
A man that wants not Tincture, Weight, or Measure;
Whose Vertues are an everlasting story,
With every Act, shewing the Makers glory.
He is the darling of a noble Nation,
And on the Liberal Arts frames his foundation.
(The Pedestal of Honour) for he knowes,
We meet as well with wise, as fighting Foes:
And that his judgement who leads Troops of Men,
Must be well vers'd in the Why, How, and When
Great Actions may be entertain'd; and be
Exactly skil'd in Counter-policie:
If in the Volume of his Ancestry,
He reade no publique Acts of Chivalry,
He thinks his task the greater; and is fitted,
In all things, to perform what they omitted:
But if he finde it fill'd with loyal glory,
He well continues, and augments the Story:
Thus arm'd, his Princes Crown, & Countries Right
Gives him Commission, to go forth and fight.
Rashness he understands not, but is sure,
It is no Vertue; and doth well inure,
His care-devoted Minde with Patience,
The ready Road to free Intelligence:
Now Arts, (and a Just cause) give him the power
Of a prevailing, Martiall Oratour;
Where with sincerity, void of Invention,
His Language doth so meet the Apprehension
Of vulgar Auditory, that the Skie
Is fil'd with the Free Votes of Live and Die
With our renown'd Commander, who inspires
Their hearts, as one spark lights a thousand fires:
This Pleaseth, but not makes him Proud, or grace
His new found Fate, with an Affected pace,
Or Garb ostentative, as if he were
Something, he knows not how to make appear:
His speech is Affable, his VVords are weight,
His Commands Gentle, his Directions streight,
His Memory mature, his danger such
It well expresseth that he is as much
In Storms, as State; so Provident of's Men
That he would not lose One, to purchase Ten;
Yet his heroick Resolution
Gives Twenty Quarter, rather then kil One:
And all his Cruelty is, he will give
Life to some Desp'rate men, that would not Live.
His Souldiers Poverty finds such regard,
From him, they'r never Paid, but with Reward,
Conceiving it an interest as due
Unto their Merits, as the Cause is true:
Onely a Coward wants his Love, for he,
Thinks better of a valiant Enemy:
And sooner will preserve a fierce Foes breath
Then save a Coward from deserved Death:
His Army sticks as close unto a Town,
As Ivie to their Wals, and 'tis the Crown
Of his Ambition, that he dares to be
So near a Neigbour to his Enemie:
He parley's, Summons, takes their Propositions,
Signes them, & proves more firm to his Conditions
Than Persians to their Laws, entring the City,
His Garb declares rather a noble Pity
Than an insulting Pride, and nothing more
Invites him to become a Courtier
Than do the trembling Women, to whom he
Uows himself Guardian, not an Enemie:
No Bells rung, Bonfires made, but all is done
With such a solid Celebration,
As if the Conquerour well understood
Triumphs are Terrours that be dy'd in Bloud:
This is the Man whose Acts give life to Fame,
And doth nobilitate his Countries Name:
Whose memory (sweet as the pious prize
The Gods accept in a pleas'd sacrifice)
Should be preserved from the ravenous fists
Of wasting Time, by our best Annalists:
Death is the Life of Good men, and since he
Must, at the last, shew his Mortality,
Let all great hearts attempt with active power
To practise what the Grave can not devour.

A Complemental Man.

A Rustick.

Is a rude Son of Adam, who intends
To wear his Fathers Curse at's Fingers ends:
His Cattle are so much his Consultation,
They make him of a Beastly Conversation:
But his transport of Corn, expresses plain,
'Tis he the Proverb terms A Knave in Grain:
He is all Mortal, and we justly say,
His Composition is but Grasse and Hay:
Virgil he knows not, yet hath skill concerning
Some Practique parcels of Georgick Learning:
He may arrive at Heaven, for each Day
His progresse lies thorow some thorny way:
And should be stout, for though his Roof afford
No Gun, it is defended by the Sword
Of glorious Bacon, which in rust hangs by,
To hew the hunger of Posterity:
These Modern times molest him, since mad Blades
Have taught him Billets, Quarters, and Brigades
Of Horse, and Foot; which (for ought he can finde)
Are but new Words, made to destroy Mankinde:
He loves no Fighting, yet sometimes a large
Party of Horse will put him to the Charge;
But then he brags, though he be forc'd to yield
His House, he will be Master of the Field:
He's always doubtfull of his Guests, and knows
No nice distinction 'twixt his Friends, and Foes:
Which makes him Mute, and warily to hide
His grave Opinion, till he know what side
They fight for, and doth (cunningly) prepare
For either Party, one set Form of Prayer.
It is a Problem of most hard Digestion,
If (suddenly) any propound the Question,
To have his voluntary quick Consent,
Whether he be for King or Parlament;
And puts his Clownship in so deep a Trance,
He knows not what to plead, but Ignorance:
He would not have the Service Book put down,
For the two Weather Prayers (the onely Crown
Of his Devotion) which (for ought he knows)
May be some slender Cause, that his Grasse grows:
These cruel Times move him to much remorse,
Not that they kill the Men, but spoil the Horse,
Eat up the Grasse, yet can the sad Assertion
Procure no Writ of Trover, or Conversion
Against the Trespassers, whose warlike Words
Are Statutes, & whose Warrants are their Swords:
Yet though his Corn, and Cattle, wasted are,
'T has vers'd him in the Dialect of War,
For now he can rehearse to you at large
A Troop, a March, Battalia, and a Charge,
Retreat, Relief, a Battry, and a Call,
Then from a Colonel to a Corporal
Speaks Offices gradatim; nay, he knows
Not onely what the VVords are, but the Blows:
There's scarce a Woman in his house but she
Can (naturally) train a Company;
Though he had rather simply understand
The down-right, thrifty, old Words of Command;
As Gee, Ho, Ree: and his blinde Troopers call
By the known names of Dun, Sorrell, and Ball:
But now his hopes are (and I hope so to)
That he shall plow in Peace agen, and go
In safety to the Market, though he dwell
Till Monday at the Tap, 'cause Corn sels well:
And who doth know, but such a time may come
When the blown Bag-pipe shall out-vie the Drum?
And the majestick May-pole have admission,
To be erected, without Superstition:
When Meg, and Margery, with Siss, and Doll,
Shall be allow'd to dance their Bellies full;
And my rude Rustick (whom I do confer
Honor upon, in this wilde Character)
Shall be a hob nail'd Judge amongst the rest;
And gravely give his Censure who doth best;
VVhilest his gray VVife, hath her Ambition full
Fraught with the Stile of Mistris Constable,
At every VVord, and he erect his Nose
(In pride) to think how Wealth, and Honor, grows
Upon his Shoulders, whom we'll let alone,
Till a Subpœna bring him up to Town.

A Sea-man.

Is the Worlds Water-work, and may be said,
(Justly) to have a Swimming in his Head;
With him the Phrase our Country makes so common,
Is true, that Time and Tide, will stay for no man;
For wch he quits the Shore, his Drink & Drabbing,
To be confin'd or coffin'd in his Cabbin:
He knows the Winds, wth all their various Courses,
Nominally, as Plow-men do their Horses;
But cannot so command them: he is one
So dayly us'd to Inundation,
On whose tann'd Face so many Waves are hurl'd,
That nothing but the Burning of the World,
Could make him fear the latter Day, though he
Has but slow Faith, Fire should consume the Sea:
His steerage at the Helm, makes him appear,
Not very much unlike a Conjurer:
And all those Waves, & Windes, that act their part,
About him, Spirits conjur'd by his Art:
What is a Thief's Despair, becomes his Hope;
One's Faith, and to 'thers Fear, lies in the Rope:
The term of Freshman is a great derision
Unto the Trade, for He, and his Provision
Are pickled both alike, which (with their peason)
Renders them Creatures never out of Season:
Pitch, Tarr, with heart of Oak, are the three chief
And naval Articles, of his Belief:
But nothing can beget a greater quarrell
Than Leaks, or Sparks, too near the powder barrel:
For though without these Elements he dies,
They are his strongest, nearest Enemies,
The Dangers of the Deep rather appear
A Merriment, than Object of his Fear:
And when his Piscatory humor flows,
The mightiest Whales are but his Play-fellows:
Sharks are his best Familiars, but (the more
His grief) his pretty Whiting Mop's on shore:
Onely a good Faith cures him, which makes her
A Votresse to her absent Mariner:
And though the Shore injoy the sacred Shrines
Of Bacchus, still he's troubled with the Signes
Of Taurus, Leo, Cancer, Capricorn,
And some such Constellations, that adorn
The scituation of the Zodiack,
Nay, he's acquainted with the jolly Pack
Of all the Planets, but 'twill hardly be,
That Venus should seem sociable at Sea;
Though it is Native to her; unlesse he
Transport light VVares to Lisbon Nunnery;
Or carry cold meat to the Men that draw
Feminine hunger in Virginia,
Barbadoes, or Bermudas, where the Lasses
(VVhich here in England were but broken Glasses)
Are cemented for VVives, and put ith' Fashion
Of Honest VVomen, in a new Plantation:
His Climbing shews him proud, though the World sees,
He raises all his Fortunes by Degrees;
Without much disproportion, we may vie,
His Sea-trade, with the Plowmans Husbandry;
A Ship's the Plow, a Rudder is the Tail,
A Stem the Plow-Share, Horses VVinde & Sail:
One cuts the VVaves, the other Grasse & Thistles:
The Boatswain & the Plowman, use their Whistles:
The Ocean doth contain both Hills and Dales;
High Seas are Mountains, & calm VVaters Vales:
In all particulars, they are partakers,
One furrows Leagues, the other turns up Acres:
The Rocks are Hedges, and the Fishes be
More numerous (in multiplicity)
Than Beasts are on the Shore; Nor doth the Sand
And Sea, prove lesse preservative than Land:
The Husbandman (by Heavens good advice)
Distributes Grain, the Sea-man Merchandice.
(At the same rate of Counsel) and 'twere good
Astrologie by both were understood;
When one hath Reap'd, and tother Peril past,
Both dance, about the May-pole, and the Mast:
London's the Barn, where casting off their Armors:
(Just) at the Custom-house, he findes the Farmers;
And least the subtle Searchers should deceive him;
'Till all the Goods are brought a shore, we'l leave em.

A Common Souldier.

A Roaring Boy.

He is the Kingdoms froth, the Wisemans Wonder,
The Coward's Gallant, and the Taverns Thunder:
A thing disguis'd in Noise, and one that findes
A great Delight in vying with the VVindes:
If Man's Life be a blast, we cannot form
His to be lesse outragious than a storm;
For at his Midnight Revels, in a Tavern,
He puffs like Boreas from the Nothern Cavern,
VVhere Pots and Bacchanalians look next day
Like men whom last nights Tempest cast away:
His frequent Jests are Blasphemies, and swears
Such Oaths, the Hearers wish they had no Ears:
Hell-fire he fears not, for he knows (before
He goes) the Devil can but make him Roar:
He is the Devil's Agent, to perswade
Our younger Frie of Gallants to his Trade:
VVho doth with such mysterious craft deceive um:
That they are forc'd to Live by't, ere he leave um:
A Bail of Dice (which ow nothing to Chance)
VVith cheating Cards, are his Inheritance:
Then for his VVomen, he hath choice of Faces,
Learnedly registred, with Common places
In his black Book (and for a Summ) you may
VVin on his gentle Nature, to betray
Your Liberty unto some One, which he
Vows, hath but new lost her Virginity;
Meerly drawn into it, by some great Lord,
Although by twenty names, shee's on Record
In both Bridewels; and every Autumn, fils
A Ream of Paper, with her Doctors bils:
So comes forth (like some book that had offended
The world) newly Corrected, and Amended.
These Creatures Annually do contribute
To his Necessity, with Buff, Red sute,
Dutch hat, and Bilbo, that must needs be drawn
When any of their Honours lie at pawn:
By which, he gains a liberty to know
Their Sensual sheets Cum Privilegio:
And (for a surplusage sometimes) his Fate is,
To get Morbosus Generosus, Gratis:
He talks much of great Houses, and 't is true
He hath liv'd in them, Give the Divell his due:
The Poultry, Woodstreet, Newgate, and Bridewel,
A Lordship which he willingly would sell:
But that it is intail'd, and must descend
To the Heirs Femal: Nay, 'tis thought, his End
Will be in some Great Mansion, for the Stews
May purchase him, Thomas, or Bartholmews:
It is most fit, Men that have liv'd as he
Hath done, should end their days in Charity:
But he's not come to that yet, now he Raigns
Like Dominus fac, with his Inglorious trains
Of new fledg'd Gallantry, who spread the street
With their pied Plumes, Sophistically sweet
As the Exchange in Term-time, that invites
The new-dub'd Ladies, of our Country Knights:
He walks in Westminster, where his wise Pate
Contrives some Criticism on the State,
Censures the Reformation, and would be
Content, the People had more Liberty:
Speaks of Arrears, although he nere did wrastle
A Fall ith' Businesse, beyond Windsor Castle:
Yet, for the Fighting Dialect, he talks
Most of Duellum, where he struts, and stalks,
Extends his large Man-slaying Arm, and cries,
They were too cruell, who did first devise,
This beating Men with Bullets, (so he might
Complain of them, which taught them first to fight
For any zeal he bears to't) though the Words
Of Slaughter, VVar, Combat, & drawing Swords,
He'll talk of, like illiterate Men, that throng
To hear Orations made in the Greek Tongue:
Thus is the Bubble blown, whom (aptly) we
May term, the Blister of Humanity;
The Timpany of Nature, the VVorlds VVen,
Man in Monstrosity, from whom all Men
Should flie as from a Plague, when Death displays
His Mortal VVings in the Canicular Days;
That, but destroys the Corps, This, kills the Fame,
Health, Wealth, Life, Soul, the Body, & good Name.

A Usurer.

Be it known to all men by these Presents, that
This great Extortor, was a spurious Brat,
Sprung from the Spawn of Mammon, now, the Actor
Of Man's Confusion, Pluto's chiefest Factor,
Oblig'd unto him in a thousand Scrowles
To ingrosse the VVorld, and lie Leiger for Souls:
One blest with Curses, and such Men do least
Love him, in whom he hath most Interest:
His Life is Contradiction, and all
His thrifty Actions, Paradoxical:
He's Poor ith' midst of Plenty, and doth grutch
Himself enough, because he hath too much:
Extreamly Avaritious, yet would die
VVith grief, were't not for Prodigality:
Cruel ith' Act of Charity, for when
He parts with Coin, 'tis to undo the Men
That have it, which (if punctually they pay)
He curseth them, because they keep their Day;
And well he may, for it proves fatal to him,
His very Guardian Angels do undo him:
Money was onely made for Use, yet we
In him, finde Use the greatest Injury:
Fear of the latter Day keeps him in aw,
For he fears Justice, though he lives by Law:
And doth much doubt the fatal Day should come,
To hinder the receiving of a Summ:
Good Acts and Deeds he loves, if they conduce
To Gain, Seal'd, and Deliver'd for his Use:
And is so jealous, that he will not deal
VVith his own Father, without Hand and Seal:
These words in Leases are his Luxurie,
To have, to hold, enjoy, and occupy;
VVhich by a vain Construction, (us'd in Mirth)
Makes him Incestuous with his Mother Earth:
He hath a hundred Sutes, and yet his Back
Knows but one Garment, greasie, patch'd, & black
As his own in-side; He is much at strife,
That Law can grant no Leases for long Life:
And gratulates the happinesse of them,
That liv'd i'th' Days of old Methusalem:
That he hath read ith' Bible, yet his Faith
Is more in Statutes, than what Scripture saith;
And (like a Sectarist) would fain consent,
To nullifie the Last Commandement:
Nor doth he like the Second, it doth hold
Much against Graven Images, and Gold:
To a young Heir he's worse than all the Birds
Of Rapine, that the whole Country affords:
He sucks the Marrow, and it doth him good,
To glut his Avarice with humane Bloud
Of undone Debtors; till they grow so poor,
They're forc'd to beg an Alms at their own Door:
Gallants more spirited, are forc'd to spread
Their Wings in other Climes, and fight for Bread;
Knowing not how their Hungers to refresh
But with expence of Bloud, to purchase Flesh:
His hoorded Summs are but so many Stealths,
Conducing to the Bane of Common-wealths;
The State and People suffer, where such Men
Ingulf the usefull Treasure, so that when
A State-securing Army should be paid,
Unequal Rates, unwillingly, are layd
On weaker Shoulders, which, too oft, have drew in
A Forreign Power, and prov'd a Nations Ruine:
Him and a Conjurer, Sathan doth fool
Alike, they both are practiz'd in one School:
The sweet Sin makes his Intellect so dim,
He thinks he hath the Devil, when he hath Him;
The Scrivener, and the Broker, are his two
Assisting Suffragans, that must undo
The sliding Knots, of such mens Fortunes which
Contemn the paltry Pride of being Rich:
Thus doth he waste his ne'r-returning years,
In Dayly Stratagems, and Nightly Fears:
Whilest the poor Widows Tears, & Orphans Cries,
Like the first Bloud-shed, do ascend the Skies,
Till Death's Arrest his greedy Corpes assail,
With such an Action, that admits no Bail:
But must Eternally in Prison lie,
Who, all his Life, dealt in Security.

A Prison.

A prison is a Period of the Law,
A living Sepulcher, where Men do draw
No Air, but what proceeds from sad Complaints:
A Purgatory, from the which no Saints,
But Angels can release them: 'Tis the place,
Where Wildest Men gain the habitual grace,
Of being Staid, and though they are bereft
Of other Chattels, have a House still left
Admits no Sale, which (by the great resort)
May properly be stil'd an Inn's of Court,
Where Under-graduats that never saw
The penal Statutes, here, do study Law,
And prove good Counsellers, for they importune
All Men to Providence by their Mis-fortune:
It is the Rendezvouz of Raggs, a Place
So steril, men are seldom in good Case:
They may be Monsters, for unthankfull Fate
Hath taught them all a trick to be in-Grate;
'Tis (not unfitly) call'd Subtletie's Schole,
Where they can See day at a little Hole;
And some come hither onely for such ends,
As may confer a Triall on their Friends:
A House that little Charity imparts,
For Men do still condemn their own kinde hearts:
They are Vessels in a Calm, but the Fresh Gale
Of a Release, makes them to hoise up Sail,
And lanch into the Deep, till, now and then,
Some crosse Windes force them to their Port agen:
Serjeants are Men of War, and do most slaughter
Upon the Merchants at an Ebbing Water:
A Jailor is the Boat-swain, who still watches
His barbrous time, to stow Men under Hatches:
Juries and Outlaries are Winde and Tide,
The fatal Upper Deck the Masters side;
Anchors are Executions; and Extents
Are the rough Rocks, that many a tall ship rents;
Intricate Cases are the Tacklings, which
Perplex the Minde; and Creditors the Pitch:
The Law to be the Load-stone doth not grudge;
Pursers are Counsellers, a Pilot Judge;
Attachments Cables, a long Term prevails
To be the Mast, Chancery Bils the Sails:
Here, such as have profusely rioted,
May prevent Surfets, and be Dieted
With publique Charity; which I am sure
Did never yet beget an Epicure:
Here, they talk any thing, for still they cry,
They can but be in Prison; and to die
(Their Hopes are come to such a low Decrease)
Daunts not, 'tis but a new word for Release:
The un-hung Chambers, with the numerous Beds,
(Where open-eyed they lay their carefull Heads)
Look like Church-yards, and we may aptly say,
Is a fit Embleme for the latter Day;
Where, wth their naked arms stretch'd to the Clouds,
They rise agen with neither Shirts, nor Shrouds;
The Beds are Dust, Worms are the Lice and Fleas,
The dreadfull Summons, are the Jailors Keyes;
The Bail-dock Purgatory, and Guild-hall
A Judgement-seat, that salves, or ruines all:
All humors in this vacuum are hurl'd,
To make it an Epitome oth' World.
'Tis in it self (though poor) a Corporation;
For the sad Common-wealths men (by gradation)
Do clime to Offices, and, with equal Quarter,
Divide their Power, as if the City Charter
Were made their Fundamental; Here they Marry
Remove their Lodgings, carry, and miscarry,
Buy, sell, (nor do they want the Worlds Exactions)
Hold Controversies, severall Sects, and Factions:
Lend Money upon Pawns, they fight, and stab,
Are cur'd, pay Surgeons, swear, dice, drink, & drab;
Dance, sing, write Books, in Latin, Spanish, French;
Study the Laws, in Chanc'ry, Upper Bench,
And Common Pleas; whilest the Mechanick Blades,
Alter, make, mend, according to their Trades;
Some men have made this place a Counter-charm,
That may protect them from a greater harm;
But (in a Word) all men shall finde (that try)
'Tis any thing that tends to Misery.

A Rash Man.

Is like a Ship mis-guided on a Shelf:
Un-naturally Out-law'd by Himself;
He's Reason's Renegado; one with whom
The word Consider, is too troublesome:
That doth obey his Passion and Affection;
Whose Cogitation, is the Childe of Action;
He Loves, and Hates, but is too quick in Both,
Accounting Contemplation, a cold Sloth:
He Doth, and then Disputes, he is a Man
Milde as a Brook, Wilde as an Ocean:
Fierce as a Lion, Loving as a Lamb;
In whom the least proportion (that a Dram
Conteins) of Choller, shall beget more spoil,
Than Flame and Flax (incorporate with Oyl)
Makes in a Magazine, that is oblig'd
To the Destruction of a Town besieg'd;
He's Folly's Fire, and fickle Fortune's Frantick,
Passion's Petar, Love's Blast, and Angers Antick:
His Brain is Flint, Heart Steel, his wilde Desire
Is Tindar: he that Crosses him, strikes Fire:
With all his Undertakings he goes on,
At the same Minute they are thought upon,
He sayes, Consideration is a Crime
Fetter'd with Lazinesse, it loseth Time;
And therefore (like a forward Man) will be
Always before his Opportunity;
But by that kinde of Care, he findes the Fate
That coming Early onely, makes him Late:
Men of profundity, that dare own VVit,
Know it is two things, to be First, and Fit
In some Imployments; He whose sad Condition
Upon the Scaffold, doth attend Remission;
May in the Book of his reviving Fate,
Record in Gold, that Time he stay'd so late;
Then to be First in some such Enterprize,
Is Ruine, by the Rule of Contraries:
So are a Rash Man's Actions, that refuse
All Counsel, but what Will, and Passion chuse:
He thinks that Temperance, and Patience,
Are onely Words, that want Intelligence:
And where he sees their pure Effects arise,
He calls it Idlenesse, and Cowardise:
His Ear is open, as his Hand is quick,
To any Sycophant, that comes to pick
Thanks, for some ill-brought News, which (in his Fury)
He Credits more than ever Judge did Jury:
Another Mad-man's Challenge hath the power,
To call him (at a Sacramental hower)
From the high Altar, when the pious Priest
Communicates the holy Eucharist:
With him, no Season is unfit to Fight,
By Day, or Night; Moon-shine, or Candle-light;
Delay (he doubts) in such a Case as this,
Concludes him Coward, So indeed He is:
For perfect valour, rightly understood,
Submits not to the Ebbing or the Floud
Of a hot Gall, but wisely dares advance
His towring head, invest with Temperance;
At such a season, when the Deed alone
Shall be both Act and Vindication;
And cannot need that Penitence upon it
The tother has; I would I had not done it,
Pray pardon me, Let my Repentance wash
The thought on't from you, I was much too rash;
Ile make amends; And such tame words as wou'd
Cause a cold Winter in the flowing Bloud
Of a high heart; but 'tis an equal Sentence,
That sudden Rashness should meet swift Repentance:
For, commonly, to him he doth out-brave
This Day, to morrow he becomes a Slave:
He is a wilde, head-strong, unbroken Colt,
A Wise man's Warning-piece, and the Fools Bolt;
The Coward's onely Terrour, Natures Bubble;
The Mad man's Disputant, the Milde man's Trouble;
The Drunkard's Ape, the Virgins Over-throw;
The Devil's dearest Friend, and his own Foe.
But, now I think on't, how shall all my Wit
Secure me, should he Reade what I have Writ?
Ile ask his Pardon, and Ile vow withall,
When I write next to mak him Rash-on-all.

A Corrupt Lawyer.

Is one that lives by Quarrels, a Beguiler
Of Peace, yet would be thought a Reconciler;
One whose best thriving is in troubled Times,
When the World's worst, & People full of Crimes;
By his Art, men may fight at any distance;
Envy and Malice, are his chief Assistants:
He doth little in God's Name, for he brings
All Actions that be penal, in the Kings:
As in his Declaration (Tolle Lege)
You'l finde it writ, Qui tum pro Domino Rege:
Informers are his Clients, whose Possessions,
Are a large Record of the Laws Transgressions:
He is a Man of furious Resolution,
That aims to bring all things to Execution,
And (by bad Circumstance) it happens so
That the Defendant and the Plaintiff too
VVere better be at Tiburn, then extend
Their Purses to Expences, without End:
For Lawyers (like the Irons that support
Consuming Fire-brands) do, with thrifty sport,
Uphold their Clients, till Demurrs and Flashes
Have burn'd and buried them, in their own Ashes:
Whose Ruine is the haplesse Introduction,
To one man's Wealth, and twenty mens Destruction:
Not much unlike the Butlers Box, which takes
Small parcels, till it carry both the Stakes:
Or Æsop's silly Warriers, whose fierce Fight,
Betraid them to the Rapine of a Kite:
So shall you see two Streams strongly contemn
Each other, till one Ocean swallow them.
Such Irons, Boxes, Kites, and Oceans, are
Those whom I aim at, in this Character.
Yet somewhat in him merits Approbation,
He doth not much encline to Innovation;
Or any thing which toils the Apprehension,
With the Ænigma of a new Invention:
But (very Orthodoxly) is content,
That all things shall be done by President:
He's one to whom no action comes amiss,
But what appears in Forma pauperis.
And those he looks upon with more vexations,
Then Usurers when they're to pay Taxations;
Or those rich Jews, when they enforced are
By the Great Turk, to set forth men of War
At their own charge; No just Cause seems so sweet,
As what supports it self on Silver feet:
Religion is a Term he'd think upon,
I'th' Country, when all other Terms are done.
For you must note, when first he took Degree,
That he sued Conscience to an Outlary:
But I beleeve, 'twill strike him in some terrour,
At last Retorn; to see Her writs of Errour:
When all his subtleties shall be exprest,
And censur'd by that Jury in his brest:
When the Infernal prison shall appear
A little worse than Hell at Westminster:
But these are Phansies, that can raise no Passion
In Men uncapable of Contemplation:
Why should his Rumination be hurl'd
At the vain Fictions of another World?
Is there a Court which can return Denials,
To Him, that hath endur'd so many Trials,
Judgements, and Executions, as would make
The very Fabrick of a County shake?
No, no, go on, and let the Country know,
What 'tis to Quarrell, or (what's worse) to go
To Law; and, most especially, when He
That is their Advocat's their Enemy:
Like those destructive Aides, which (undesir'd)
Offer Assistances, when a House is fir'd,
And, at the sad Conclusion of the same,
Return a worse Consumption, than the Flame:
Not that I think the Law is so, but grieve
I have so great a Reason to believe,
Did not Law bound us, we should prove the worst
Nation, that ever the Almighty curs'd:
So self-destructive, and so barbarous,
That even Heathens, would be Saints, to us:
Therefore my Heart shall ever yield applause
(Next unto my Religion) to the Laws.

A Noble Spirit.

Is Man in his Sublimity, whom Fate
Can not subject unto a sordid state:
Whom Poverty (with all her needy Train)
Incites not to the slavery of Gain;
Whose Freedom is that Magna Charta, which
Admits no Diminution, though the Rich
Revenue of both Indies, did conclude
To buy the Purchace; One, whose Nobly rude
Unpolish'd Bravery, contains a Jem,
Would dignifie the greatest Diadem;
In whom that Intellectual Essence springs.
Which glorifies the Soveraignty of Kings:
Whose radiant Reason, hath dispers'd all Passion,
To give his Actions free Illumination;
He lends Life unto Honor, and his Name
Fixeth a Title on the Crest of Fame:
His Looks speak Pride, but could you know the Dresse,
He wears within, his Minde shews nothing lesse;
His Garb (indeed) is stately, and he can
Sooner kisse Death, than cringe to a Great man,
Flatter a Prince, or be induc'd to go
Against his Conscience, 'cause the World doth so:
He scorns to strike his Top-sail to the vain
Pride of that Man, who will not vail again:
Though Bloud, Riches, and Dignity accord,
To grace him with the title of a Lord:
And nothing more provokes his discontent,
Then to abridge him a due Complement:
Therefore he meets all men with due Respect,
And is more sensible of a Neglect,
Then some of Blowes, and doth (alike) despise,
Dissimulations and Calumnies:
No man is more the object of his Hate,
Then He that would his Worth extenuate.
Nor is there any Man hath power to cause,
A self-opinion in him, with Applause;
So justly ballanc'd, that the even Beam,
Enclines not to admit of an Extream:
He is a man that lyes so truly square,
Fortune is not his Mistress, nor his Fear:
The glory of her Glance doth not delight him,
Nor can the fury of her Frown affright him:
As no man is more capable then he,
In apprehension of an Injury;
So is it rare to finde a disposition,
Of such propensitie unto Remission:
His Love is fineless, but his fickle Hate,
A Moments time may amply terminate.
Although he be most just in the exaction,
(After a wrong receiv'd) of Satisfaction:
Which is so well contriv'd, he seems to take
Is more for Justice, then for Angers sake:
His Tyranny is exercis'd upon,
None but himself, for if a wrong be done,
By him, unto another, he will nere
Contentedly, forgive the Injurer;
But with incessant Murmur, and Vexation,
Deny himself all hope of Expiation:
He's One shall sooner in a mortal strife
Expire, than poorly be oblig'd for Life:
Not that he would not live, but hates to be
So much engag'd unto his Enemy;
Curiously fearing, that it should be said,
He wears a Life, his Fate had forfeited:
If (in the progresse of his Dayes) he finde,
The Nation's favour gratefully inclin'd,
By adding Honour to his Souls enjoyment,
He sets a Lustre upon all Imployment;
Whose Honorable Actions may exhort
The growing Gallantry of Camp and Court:
And after Ages shall record his Story,
As one that liv'd and dyed his Countries Glory.

A Mountebanck.

Is a Stage higher than a Quack, a Thing
Nurs'd by Corruption, to whom the Spring,
And Autum, prove a Harvest, He is One
That is of: All, or No Religion:
His Life is hellish, for he always gains
His Sustenance upon the Peoples Pains;
His Stage is built on Barrel heads, but he
Is best supported by Infirmitie;
His new-built Shop looks like an Antick School,
Where He, his Wife, a Madman, and a Fool,
Epitomize the world; which is the Cause,
His vain Spectators give him such Applause:
His Origin of living did consist,
Much on the Charcoal of an Alchymist:
Then serv'd a Doctour, till his skill did crawl,
Up to the judgement of a Urinal:
After he Practiz'd, but his Art did lye,
Most commonly, hid Piss-prophesie:
Which happen'd as infallible as Fate,
Assisted by a good Confederate.
The Midwives, and the Nurses of the Town,
Were his Decoys, and shar'd, till all was known;
Then he remov'd himself, and did repair,
(For health) unto some more infectious Air;
For he is one of such a gross Extraction,
That nothing keeps him Sound, but Putrifaction:
There his Experiments begins on Rats,
Practiseth poysons upon Dogs and Cats;
(They are his Patients) Knowledge must be won,
Though it depend upon Destruction:
Then his large Bils, in Text advanced high,
(For an obstruction to all Passers by)
He plants in publike Places: where he pleases,
To undertake the Cure of All Diseases:
When all that judgment values not a straw,
But what lies in Lues Venerea:
Or some such Paris-practice, which implores,
The vile assistance of unwholsom Whores:
And all the worth, his vacant Skull affords,
Is but a studied Catalogue of Words.
Virulent Stranguries, intestine Tumours,
Hypochondri[illeg.]eus, Malignant Humours;
Sordid and sanious Ulcers, Phlegmon, Fluxions,
Hepatick Inflamations, and Obstructions:
Hydropick Swellings, Fractions, Dislocations,
Gangrena, Gangleon, with all Vexations.
And then a more then mortal Patience tames,
With the impertinence of Authors Names:
As divine Æsculapius, Cornelius,
Undoubted Dioscorides, Farnelius;
Empedo[illeg.]les, Galen, Hipocrates,
Wise Theophrastus, and Democrates:
Albertus Magnus, Great Archigines,
Besides a hundred more; which he doth please
To coin himself, of stranger obstruse stuff,
Lost his weak brain should not be bad enough,
Who is his Patient; and may justly fear,
The worst Diseases enter at his Ear.
Come to his Chamber, and his Library,
Looks like the Study of some Antiquary:
Adorn'd with the sowr sight of Sceletons,
Embalmed Limbs, strange Beasts, and pendant Bones;
With tedious Lectures on them, that would quite
Destroy the patience of an Anchorite:
His Folio Books, like some great Conjurers,
Are madly stain'd with Rubrick Characters:
Of no Intelligence, unless they be,
The Hieroglyphicks of his Extasie:
Yet these phantastique toys, serve to advance
His Name, where Money is, and Ignorance:
When in his Chests, good store of Coyn is hurld,
He gains a Pattent to surround the World.
With no less Mischief, although mask'd wth Mirth,
Then Satan, when he compassed the Earth.
But lest I should by some misconstru'd be,
That I am Lady Physicks Enemy;
My just request is, that I may refer,
Them to the title of My Character;
My Pen shall never fix a stain upon Her,
For 'tis an Art, I infinitely honour.

A Whore.

That Cradle-Curs'd Impostor, is a Whore;
Which Bad men most desire yet most Abhor:
Priz'd in the heat of bloud, at costly rate;
A Dish they feed on, surfet, and then hate:
Who traffiques for Diseases, spends her Youth,
In luckless Riot, void of Care, and Truth:
That sels her souls Inheritance, to win
An Heritage in death, dear bought with sin:
If she arrive at Age, her best reward,
Is poon, old, scorn'd, and begs without regard:
She's the unhappiest Workman-ship of Nature,
The foulest Fiend, hid in the fairest Creature:
Damnation cut in Chrystal, heaps of Flowers,
Scatter'd upon a Viper, which devours,
The gathering hand; A subtle, shining, White
Path, to the Pallace of Eternal Night:
Stars in deep Waters, which when vain men think
They shall embrace; in the soft Ruine, sink.
A Shrine-like-shewing Sepulcher, which owns
Nought but the primitive dust of putrid bones:
The Devils fair Decoy, the True-love Cheater,
Poyson'd Perfumes, Suckets that rot the Eater;
Shipwracks in calmest weather; Bels that have
But one Tune to the Bride-bed, and the Grave:
They are cold Scythian Winters, that appear,
So full of barrenness, as if the Year,
Had forfeited the Spring, and would degrade,
The World of that, for which it first was made:
Your Stately, Rich, and Lord-beloved Whores,
Are Treasuries which vilde Extortion stores,
And studious Riot empties; for what they,
Purloin from One, some Other makes away.
Philosophers in vain you seek to finde,
Out Local Hel, in the vast Air, the Winde,
Or Centre of the Earth; for (sans dispute)
'Tis in the bosom of a Prostitute:
Like Hell, they act destruction unto Man,
No Nation scapes; the French, the Italian,
The lofty Spaniard, and the lusty Dutch,
From him, whose Age depends upon a Crutch,
To the unbearded Youth, that ne'r put on,
The long-wish'd Jubilee of Twenty one;
Men of all Qualities are thus betraid,
They're worse than Tributes in th'Low-Countries paid:
Exactions upon all sorts of Provision,
Meat, drink, sleep, clothes, nay even on mans perdition,
They do (like Vultures) on Ill-livers gnaw,
And are those brittle Ev'dences of Law;
(Examin'd by some over-curious Pate)
Which forfeit all a wretched Mans estate,
For leaving out one syllable: They be
Worse then dead bodies from the fatall Tree,
Begg'd by Chirurgions, and wrought upon,
To teach a man (by such dissection)
Wherein he is imperfect; She is worse,
Then all Ingredients made into a Curse.
And (though she merit it) there's nothing more
Afflicts her, then the hateful Name of Whore:
Which represents the horrour of her shame,
To profess that, which she's afraid to Name:
The careless Customs of her curs'd offence,
Expel the thought of Prayer, or Penitence:
Her tempting Eys are most unhallowed Lamps,
And, like false Coyn, which, whosoe'r first stamps;
Though the Contriver subtly may leave it,
Shall bring in Question all men that receive it.
Such is a Whore, whom Pride, and Lust deforms,
First rots, then dies a poyson, to the Worms.

A Virtuous Wife.

Is, to her Husband, all we can call good,
That hath affinity with Flesh and Bloud:
Her Chaster thoughts are so Divinely swayd,
Although a Mother, she's a married Maid:
In that her Conversation doth dispense
It self no further then safe Innocence
May wisely warrant, She's an Enchiridion,
To her kinde Consort, fill'd with true Religion:
Which is her highest Learning, and the Stone
Lay'd to support her Life's foundation:
Her Passions are so regularly sweet,
That his Distempers, and her Mildenesse, meet
Like Flint and Feathers; for she truly knows,
From vain Resistance, vile Dis-union grows:
She's of her Husband's Counsel, though respect
Instruct her to Advise, more than Direct;
And of his Privacies so (wisely) wary,
She may be stil'd his Hearts best Secretary:
They are so much One, that whatsoever Fate
Bestows on Him, She doth participate;
His Sorrow, is her Sadnesse, and his Mirth,
(Occultly) doth beget a blooming Birth
Of Joyes in Her; And, as I have been shewn,
Two Needles touch'd with one Magnetique Stone,
And fix'd upon their Centers, though an Ocean;
Divide them, yet, One touch'd, gives Tother motion:
So is it with this loyal Pair of Creatures,
No Distance makes Antipathy of Natures:
She is Man's better Genius, and it is
(Almost) impossible, that any Blisse
Should be a stranger to him, whilest her Care
Devotes her humbled Heart, and Knee, in Prayer
For his Prosperity, whose Hands and Eyes,
Are Sin and Sorrow's sincere Sacrifice.
Her temperate Speech is so divinely calm,
And from her Ruby portals, spring a Balm
So pretious, and invaluably Pure
That Love makes every Kisse become a Cure:
She's never Jealous, 'cause she doth not know
By what strange means 'tis planted, or doth Grow:
Yet (rightly) thinks they cannot be without
The Guilt of Soul, who deal too much in Doubt;
And therefore (piously) doth well prevent
The Plague of both, by being Innocent.
Her Angel-Issue that about her Knee
Make her appear (as she is) true Charity;
Beget a Joy in her transcend Expressings,
And prove (what they were Meant) the Parents blessings
At whose Conception she did well agree
His Name should rather win priority
Than levity of Bloud, scorning the shame,
Which the Act shares, should nullifie the Fame
Of Generation, and that they should be
Onely the Fruits of Geniality:
Her own Example, is a powerfull guiding
Unto her Servants, that prevents all Chiding,
Or such domestique Noise, as makes the Act
Of Dehortation, worser than the Fact:
As I have heard an in-harmonious Chime
Of Words, convert the Counsel, to the Crime:
There is such Language in her Looks, her Eye
(Without a Voice) directs a Remedy;
Which is not so austere, but you may spie
Love mix'd with Power, Meeknesse with Majesty:
Her Care is in her House, where she confines
Her Thoughts, as well as Feet, and much inclines
To Uniformity, for you shall finde
The Order of her Houshold, like her Minde;
And so her Dresse, in which, she doth comply,
That cheapest Fitnesse, is best Bravery:
She is the Old man's Crutch, the Poor man's Treasure;
The Rashman's Remedy, the Young man's Pleasure;
The Wiseman's Jewell, Noble man's Renown;
The Peasant's Rest, the King's imperial Crown;
The Sick man's Salvatory, Souldier's Fort;
The Merchant's Providence, the Pilot's Port;
Which, if he lose, He soon shall understand,
That his worst Ship-wrack was upon the Land;
But if Grim Death, his Lamp of Life shall smother
He doth but change one Heaven for Another.