University of Virginia Library

[The first book of Satires]

Priscus Grammaticus de Satyra

Satyra est carmen acerbum, instrumentum mordax. &c.

The first Satire [of Horace]

Right drad Mecenas, whats the cause
that none contente abyde
In trayned trade, that whylome choise
or chaunce to them affyed?
But loues, and lykes an others lote,
and nouell lyfe pursues.
Still flotes and flyts from former fate,
Ne brookes the same to vse,
Th' unwyldye warryer waste with toyle,
wyth grouelyng elde for spente,
O makelesse marchaunte mumbleth he,
O state with blisse Yblent.
The fearefull marchaunt he again,
When waltring wyndes amayne
With plunging puffes from Sothren coste,
and hydiouse hissing rayne
Torments the Sea, hoistes vp the waues,
that doth surmounte the sayle,
Saunce pere, doth deme the souldyers guyse,
for why, they tugge, they hayle,
They prease in plumpes on mortall yron,
where eftesones eyther bayne
Is prest: or gladsum trumpets clang
dooth blase tryumphante gayne.
The counsailer for Meede, or fee,
that parles, and pledes the lawes,
When at cockes crow, his gats are pushte
with hastinge Clyentes pawes,
Then happye farmer ofte, (sayth he,
for thou in golden sleepe
Arte soust: of mout or suite vndreamde,
of barre thou beares no kepe.
The chubbyshe gnof that toyles, and moyles,
and delueth in the downe,
If happlye he a suertie be,
so sente for into towne:
Who gapes, who gawes, who pores, who pries,
who proggs his mate but he?
Perfaye (saith he,) hers all things ryfe,
these people blessed be.
The resydue that rests vnroulde,
the remnaunte that remayne
Of this new fanglde fickle flocke,
woulde pose and put to paines

Fabie a common pratler.

The fabling Fabies tatling toungue:
to deskaunte and descriue
The route, and rabble all a rowe
A draughte to longe to dryue,)
But that no tracte neede trouble thee,
nor ambage breede delaye,
Harke well how I will coutche this gere.
put case som god woulde saye,
Your lykings all allowde shalbe:
and thou that erste in feilde
The maces keene, the grounded sworde,
the Tucke, the targe, the sheilde
Was wunte to wilde, wyth passage moyst
shall cutte the frothie playne,
A merye marchaunte shalte thou row.
and thou that didste disdayne
To lyue and leade the Lawyers lyfe,
shalt mucker in the grounde.
Be trudgging hence, your trades are turnde,
why stande you still in stounde?
They will not tho, although they mighte
accepte this blisfulle boune.
Then whats the cause that Ioue thus mockd
may not condinglye soone
In irefull mode and dyre reuenge
engourge his puffed cheekes
Gaynste all this sorte? and spreed no eare
to them that hensforth seekes
And suies with pratlynge prayer to chop,
and chaunge their former plighte.
But lest som man should hould me in hands
my tretys is to lyghte,
To muche with laughter interlasde,
(albeit the gest er may
Harpe on a soothe, ells God for byd)
and toyes may kepe and staye
Sumtimes the reeder very well,
as those that teache in schooles,
With buttred bread, or featusse knacks
will lewre the little fooles,
To learne a pace theyr A. B. C,)
I will be at a poynte
Wyth nyfles now. Ile turne the leafe,
and waightye thinges disiointe.
The Churle that shreds ye earth with share,
and wreakes the yeeldynge lees,
The marryner that shaues the streame,
and furrouse vncouthe seas:
The Tauerner that falsethe othes,
and litle reckes to lye,
The souldyer that doth deale the battes,
and makes his foes to flye,
They say the cause they trauayle thus,
that thus they care and carke,
Is this: That when vnnimble age
hath reste them of their warke,
When fumbling foote denyes to meeue,
when hande nil houlde, or hente,
That then they might suffisaunce haue,
leste easles neede them shente.
Not muche vnlyke the lytle Ant,
(a beaste of tydye toyle)
Who drawes, and dragges her delycates
orewharte the hillie soyle
By mighte of mouth in al she may,
and placed in her cell
She stickleth, and bestirres her selfe,
She huswyfes it right well.
She carues it fyne, and mings it thicke
and shroudes it vnder roofe.
As one that of the wynters wrathe
Were not to learne the proofe,
Ne yet to care for after clappes.
Whereby when Ianyuere
That myrethe all the costs wyth slete
and saddes the ginning yeare
With aspere shours, dooth cause the cloudes
and welken aye to wepe,
Then Ladye Pismyer stirrs no where,
shees claspde in closset deepe.
Shee keepes her Chrystenmasse in caue
and there they make bone cheare:
They feede and feele the fruit of that,
which once they gott yfeare.
And wyselye to, but the (alas)
no Phebus flaminge brande,
Nor greuouse numming could that maks
the chillyng sencelesse hande,
Nor fearefull fyer, that flusheth vp
and sumes to pitchye smoke
Nor stormye seas, whose oppen iawes
suppes vp wythout all choke
The straglinge shippes: nor weapon whet,
Nor oughte canne the deterre
From huntynge after hurtfull horde:
for whilste som such there are,
That swimme in wealthe, and the surpasse
in rytches or in robes,
Thy glutton mynde will neuer staye,
still, still thy stomake crobbs.
What vayles it the so quakinglye
to grubbe and grippe the moulde,
And there in hucker mucker hyde
thy Idolle God thy goulde?
If that thou spende, and sparple it,
no dodkin wyll abyde:
The deuille may daunce in crosslesse purse,
when coyne hathe tooke his tyde.
And if thou snudge, and saue it sounde,
and cofferte from the sonne,
What shewe then hathe thy hidden hepe,
what luste is therebye wonn?
Admit on flore thou haste in store
an hundreth thousande mets
Of corne dehuskde: what cums thereby?
thy belly houlds, nor getts
No more then myne: as if in case
to feelde thou shouldeste fayre
With scrippe on backe, full fraight with foods.
and straighte, as thou cums theire,
The hungrye hunts muste haue it all:
what makes thou by this matche?
As much as he that carryeth noughte,
(certes a woorthye catche.)
Or els per frendshyp answer this:
To him that doothe propounde
Nature his guyde, and treads her steppes,
what booteth him of grounde
Whether, an hundreth acres he
or els a thousande tills:
Thou saiste, he fedes the eye the more.
the from the huge hepe fills:
Well syr no force, if that you will
but condescende to this,
That our repaste doth ryot shun,
and reasonable is
To kepe the soule and Carcas cheynd,
to stynte the pyning styng
Of hungers gnaw, and that we haue
a meane of euery thyng:
Why thē, what dost thou boste so much,
thy plumes why dost thou spreade?
What better is thy barnes, then our
smale sackes that serue our neade?
Muche lyke for southe, as if that thou
a potte or pitcher muste
With lyquor lode, and mights it fille
at fountayne hereby iuste,
And yet for fonde affection, thou,
to please thy gredye eye.
Shouldste wende vnto the flowing streame
where greater gulfes do flye.
At whiche whilste some haue reached farre
and proferde ouer faste,
The bācke hath burst, that down they lusht,
and so be drente at last.
But he that leanes to temperaunce,
and anchoures on her lore,
And takes so muche as serues his turne,
and gapes to grype no more
Him needes not draw the drubbled dreggs
of fowle by durtye poole,
Nor yet for deuelishe thirste to haue
(as one from vertues schoole
Exempted quite) fetche from the brim
and ouerwhelming waues,
Where now and then (O iust rewarde)
in raginge surge sum taues.
The Christall springe shall woorke his will,
and syluer channelde wells
Shall yeelde ynoughe, where lurrks no dreade,
where slyme ne slabber dwells
But out (alas) the greater parte
with sweete empoysned bate
Of welthe bewitchde, do weene their wants
aboundance in eache state.
For monye maks, and mars (say they)
and coyne it keepes the coyle,
It byndes the beare, it rules the roste,
it putts all things to foyle.
A mann's his money, and no more,
wherin confused is
An heauen of happs, a worlde of weeles,
an hunnye bath of blisse.
O dottrells dome, and is it so?
what guardon for these doultes
Shall we deuyse? lets suffer still
the foolishe frantycke foultes
To wallowe in their wilfulnes,
whose vnder eating myndes
Is neuer cramde, but prooles for more
and swarues not from their kyndes.
Such one we reade of in olde tyme,
that dwelte in Athins towne,
A man in substance passinge rytche,
nathlesse a niggerde cloune,
At whose scarceheade, and couetyce
the worlde did out as make,
But all in vayne, he forste it not,
he sought not howe to slake
Blacke fame, that frisked euerye wheare,
and bounsed at ytche eare,
A figge for them (quoth brasen face)
I force not howe I heare,
They hauke, they hem, they hisse at me,
I weygh it not an hawe,
Whilste I may harbor in mine arke,
and lodge wythin my lawe
My darlynge goulde, my leaueste gueste,
my solace and my glee,
He is the bone companion,
its he that cheares vp me.

Tantalus.

Ah simple cheare consideringe all,
graue Tantale in thyn hearte,
His fee dyd feede his fatale falle,
his mucke procured his smarte.
Whose lippes as drye, as any kykkes
dothe ofte assay to taste
The licker, to allay the droughte,
that hathe nye all to waste
His intralls, sterude for lacke of moyste,
the fluds to eeke his paine
They clim vnto his veray chinne,
and then declyne againe.
He catcheth, and he snatcheth aye,
and stille he grates in teene,
And stille shal do, for panges stille spring
and freatinge sorowes grene.
I pray the now, what cause haste thou
to sporte and pleasaunce take?
To faune vppon thy foolishe goulde
whiche endlesse greefe doth make.
For thou induriste Tantalls fate,
and takynge but his name,
This tale maye well be toulde of the,
thou arte the veray same.
Thy house, the hell, thy good, the flood,
which, thoughe it doe not starte,
Nor stirre from the, yet hath it so
in houlde thy seruyle hearte,
That though in foysonne full thou swimmes,
and rattles in thy bagges,
Yet tost thou arte with dreadefulle dreames,
thy mynde it waues and wagges,
And wisheth after greater things,
and that, thats woorste of all.
Thou sparst it as an hollye thynge,
and doste thy selfe in thralle
Unto thy lowte, and cockescome lyke
thou doste but fille thine eye
With that, which shoulde thy porte preserue,
and hoyste thyne honor hye.
Thou scannes it, and thou toots vpponte,
as thoughe it were a warke
By practysde painters hande portrayde
with shaddowes suttle darke.
Is this the perfytte ende of coyne?
be these the veray vayles
That money hath, to serue thy syghte?
fye, fye thy wysedome fayles.
Tharte misse insenste, thou canst not vse't,
thou wotes not what to do
Withall, by cates, bye breade, bye drincke,
in fyne disburse it so,
That nature neede not moue her selfe,
nor with a betments scant
Distrainte, and prickd passe forth her daye
in pyne and pinchinge want.
To wake all nyghte with shiueryng corpse,
both nighte and day to quake,
To sit in dreade, and stande in awe
of theeues, leste they should breake
Perforce thy dores, and robb thy chests,
and carue thy weasaunte pype:
Leste flickeryng fyer should stroye thy denne,
and sease with wastefull grype
Uppon thyne house, leste runagats
should pilfer ought from thee,
Be these thy gaines, by rytches repte?
then this beheste to me
O Ioue betake, that I may be
deuoyde of all those gooddes
That brews such baneful broyles, or brings
of feare suche gastfull fluddes.
But if so bene the pauling colde
thy limmes dooth ouergo,
Or els sum other worse disease
hath daunte thy body so
That downe thou must, and byde in bed,
thy vauntage then is great,
At elbowe preste thou hast thy frendes,
who will prouide the meate,
And tender the euen as them selues,
confections sweete or tarte
Theylle minge for the, suche as beste lykes
thy quasye wamblynge hearte.
Theyle treate the fyne physition
with potions sounde and sure,
By force and vertue of his skill
thy corps for to recure,
And to restore thee to thy sonnes
and kyndely fryndes againe.
Alas the whyle its no pointe so,
thy wyfe she workes thy bayne,
Thy sonne he inlye lothes thy lyfe,
his regreate, and his plainte
Is euer freshe, because that death
doth linger to attaynte
Thy hatefull heade, thy neyghbours, and
thy cheefe acquaintaunce all
Thy iacke, thy gille, thy kith, thy kinne
doth prosecute thy fall.
What maruayle ist, when thou haste loude
thy siluer as thy lorde,
If none loue the, whose loutishe lyfe
deserude no louyng worde?
But if thou thinckes th' alyes to lynke
in frindshyppe and in faythe,
And wenest thou maiste with smale a do
from breache and foyshe wrathe
Kepe tyde the knot, that nature knit:
Ah sillye manne, in vayne
Thou doste surmise this fruitlesse fetche,
its farre beyonte thy brayne:
Perseueraunce in amitie,
and duraunce still in loue
Discordeth muche from fickle man,
thou maiste as well aboue
The sluggishe asse a saddle couche,
with golde and perle befret,
And strayne his iawes, with brydle braue
with goldsmithrye ybet,
And so to make him praunce, and plunge,
to friske, and gamballs fetche,
To chewe vppon the spewinge bit,
and at his foes to retche
With harneste houfe: as thou canste learne
the fraile retyryng man
To treade in trace of trouthe outryghte
in truth as he beganne.
In fyne, suppresse thy lewde desyre:
the more thou haste in store
The lesse passe thou for pouertye,
do trauaile for no more.
Sence thou accomplishde haste thy wille,
and purchesde wealthe at ease:
O be not lyke Vmidius,
whose rauenouse disease.
It is not longe for to discourse.
he, that he myght vpturne
His coumed coyne, with shouiles wyde,
him selfe durste not adorne
With any weede that wealthe besettes,
but lyke a miser ryghte,
More ragged then a tatterde coulte
did passe the poreste wyghte
In peces and in tatter wagges:
whylste that he had his wynde,
And drewe his breathe, he spent no iote,
a fraide that he shoulde fynde
Neade in oulde age: but (loo) his wyfe
of greakishe dames most stoute:
With grounded axe cutte him in twaine,
and rifted him throughoute.
What? is it beste lyke Meuius

Couetouse.

the makeaway, to lyue?
Or shalle I lyke Nementanus

prodigall personnes.

my gooddes to giglotts geue?

Poet.

A goodlye dishe, who taught e the this?
why doste thou thus compare
Extremyties? Is there no shifte,
all spende, or els all spare?
I would the not a nipfar thinge,
nor yet a niggarde haue,
Wilte thou therefore, a drunkard be,
a dingthrifte, and a knaue?
There is a difference betwixte
the gelded Eunuke Tane:
And Herniosus hote as coles,
that rancke vnclenly swaine.
A meane there is in matters all,
and certaine bondes be pyghte,
On this syde or beyonde the whiche
nothyng thats good canne lyghte.
But after longe vagaryes fetchde,
to come to my requeste,
How happeneth it, his owne estate
that no man lyketh beste?
But teenes, if that his neyghbours goate
a bygger bagge doth beare
Then his, or yeeldes her mylke sum deale
more flowyng and more cleare:
Nor euer will compare him selfe
vnto the greater sorte,
Whose state is base, and bad as his,
who lyues in meane apporte:
But roues, and shoots at further marks,
now him he doth contende
To passe in coyne: now him again,
and so there is no ende.
For he that thincks to coate all men
and all to ouergoe,
In runnyng shall sum ritcher fynde
who still will bid him hoe.
Suche posters may be likened well
vnto the carters oulde
Of forayne worlde, on mounte Olimpe
whose carts when they were rould
With gyrefull sway, by coursers swifte,
to winne the glistring branche:
They ierted vp their horse with whippes,
that forth they made them launche
With boysterouse noyse, lyke thunder clappes,
they made the quaueryng soyle
To dindle and to shake againe,
in hope of lawrell spoyle.
They neuer had respecte to those,
that once were caste behynde,
But scourde to geue the reste the slip,
wyth course as wyghte as wynde.
Ryght semblablye, this carkynge kynde
of men doe neuer eye
The route, that they haue ouerrun
in goodes, but haste and hye
To retche the resydue, and soe
do ame aboue theyr strengthe,
To pricke, and pearse those marks, & whits,
that lye withoute their lengthe.
Loe this is euen the veray grounde,
this is the perfytte cause,
That most mislyke them selues so muche,
and can no season pause
In blesfulnes: and this is it
why very selde we fynde
A man so cloyed with the worlde
as he that new hathe dynde
Is with his meate and that thers none
which in their extreame dayes
Will parte from lyfe as full from feast
to goe theyr homewarde wayes,
To bannish all excesse of talke,
let this suffyce as now,
And leste thou shouldste suppose by space

Crispine a vvriter agaīst couetouse to excessiue in talke.

my talke myghte ouergrow
In bulke the bleareeyde Crispins roole
whose tounge on pattans free
Did retchlesse run, euen here I cease
not one worde more of me.

The seconde Satire [of Horace].

The stewes, and stained house of drabbes,
th' appotycaryes neate,
The beggers, and the tumblynge trulles
the horehunters, the greate
And flockynge rakehell rabblement
of ragges, and raskals al,
Be pensife, and throughe plungde with panges
to see the funeralle
Of Tigelle, trustye frinde of theires,
who whilste he lyued here,
Dyd carolle shrille, and trimly tune
his sonets sweete, and cleare.
Their cause of greafe is sone expressde:
he was both free and francke.
They hanged on him, his purse kepte them
so croustye, and so crancke.

Couetous

But this man, cleane contrarye wyse,
t'eschue, and shun the name
Of spendall, and of scatter good,
and fearyng such lyke blame
That doth ensue outragiouse spence,
he will not geue nor lende
One crosse of coyne, to clothe or feede
his nedie naked frende.
An other, if thou question him

Prodigall

why that he doth deuoure
His syre, and his gransyres goodes,
and turneth towne, and tower
All into noughte, throughe greedynes
and foule delyting throte:
And why that he by gluttonye,
and stomake raging hote
Miscounsailed, doth make a sale
of landes, and lordshippe wyde
To bye such curiouse cates, as beste
will downe his gullet glyde:
His answer is not farre to fetch,
posthaste he will the saye,
That he doth thus set cocke on hoope
and lauishly outlay
This mucke, & drosse the worlde hath sent,
because he woulde not seeme
Lyke one of carlish abiecte minde,
so vyle a thing t'esteme
That answer say the neuer thriftes,
was geuen in the Cue,
Well fare his hearte: the chuffes the same
with deepe disprayse pursue.
Fusidius, a landed man,
a man whose fertyle feyldes,
Whose medowes fayre, & glebye groundes
reuenues ample yeeldes:
A man by art of vsarye,
by guyle, and treachers trade,
By fraude, and couin full of goods,
is veray sore afrayd
To spende amongste good companie,
leaste on such prankes might springe
A iauall, or a ruffins name,
or sum such heynouse thynge.
This Fusidie, to fille his purse,
and to enritch his store,
What soeuer cums by vsers skylle,
to get, and gender more,
He lays it to the captaine heape,
whereof it rose, and grewe,
He takes by yeare the fiftes of all,
and so he bredeth newe.
And if a man through negligence,
perhapps be caste behynde,
At parting he shall pay for that
such fetches will he fynde.
Heil go me lyke a craftye coulte,
and listen euerye where,
To vnderstande the names of those
that late delyuered were
From gouernment of masters sharpe,
and ginnes to weare the weede,
That onlye manhood doth beseme:
there, there he sowes his seede.
He mings deceite, he plyes the boxe,
he strues me suche a trayne,
That straighte he is with them to bringe,
(God wotes) vnto their payne.
Th' unbridled brutes, the younckers that
are paste the cure, and charge
Of Tutors graue, lyke lustye laddes,
do loue, to roue at large,
To roiste, and reuel wyth the beste,
in suits of silkes to flante:
Th' harde headed fathers they denye
such spences vaine to graunte:
Then cums this foxe, this Fusidie,
wyth money preste in hande,
He byes before their fathers death
their lyueloode, and theyr lande,
Who hearynge such malengin wroughte
doth not abrade, and crye,
Uppon the greateste God of all,
that flings the fates from hye?
But they, the sillye fonded fooles,
(such be the youthfull braines)
Do feaste him for his louesom loue,
and highly prayse his paines.
Certes, a man would scarse beleue,
how muche this louely wighte,
Whome others loue, doth loue him selfe,
how he doth decke, and dighte
His surly corps in ritche aray,
what table he doth kepe,

Menedemus

Almoste as greate as did the snudge,
whome Terence toulde to stepe,
And syncke in sorowes, and in sobbes,
for that he chaste his sonne
To Asie, there to pyke his crums,
which deed vnkynde ons donne:
He brake vp house, put myse to grasse,
him selfe fed nothing fyne,
With colewortes, and such carters cates,
ofte woulde the caytife dyne.
But here, if sum precysly aske,
what doth this processe meane?
It is to shew, that whilste sum men
take care to kepe them cleane
From blame, and blotte of one grosse sinne,
incontinente they are caughte,
Intangled with the contrary:
lyke dullerdes neuer taughte.

A nevv fangled minion of that age.

Malchine, to make him singuler,
a fashion freshe hath found,
He swings and swoupes frō streete, to streete,
with gowne that sweepes the grounde,
And thincke you Malchine wants his mates?
no fye, that were amisse,
An other pleasaunte headed chylde,
in no sauce lyketh this.
To proue himselfe a pretye man,
and quaynte in his deuise,
He maks his garment to be shapde,
not of so large a syse:
For wote you what? he coortalls it,
it hardly hydes his rumpe,
Rufillus, heis perfumde with muske
Gorgoni, smelles oth pumpe.
Meane hathe no mantion in the flocke.
they kepe no steedy stay,
In matter, and in nouell shape,
they varie euery day,
Sum one, or other lodes man stille,
and what that he doth vse,
The resydue may not ne, wil,
for fashion sake refuse.
Fashions in all our gesterings,
fashions in our attyre,
Which (as the wise haue thoughte) do cum,
and goe in circled gyre.
Fashions, in notting of the heare,
in paringe of the nayles,
In Otho, and mustacho beardes,
thus fashions neuer fayles.
In thother sexe, who would rehearse
their fashion as they be,
Might euen as well by augrisme tell,
the grauell of the Sea.
Those curiouse, crousting courtly dames,
whose spangled vestures sheene
With stones and pearles, of pride, and pryse,
and Emrauds heeuenly grene,
Doth geue the glimmering, gloriouse shewe,
that feedes the gasers eyes,
And dasles quite the simple lokes,
with leames, that from them flyes:
The world perchaunce doth thinke them gay,
and in a chiefe degree:
They be no better creatures,
then other people be:
Noe outwarde thinge doth better vs,
no not our noble kinde:
Not perles, or golde: but pearlesses gifts
be praysd in Godly mynd.
All els is toyes, and all is vaine,
and all when they haue tryde,
Will once confesse these things to be,
but nutriments of pryde.

The thirde satyre [of Horace]

It is a faulte, a common fault,
that all our minstrels vse:
The more you seme to craue a songe,
the more they will refuse.
Request them not, they neuer cease:
right so would Tigell fayre,
A singer of Sardinia
thoughe Cesar should not spare,
For his, and for his fathers sake
sum musike to require.
Yet woulde his humble suite ofte tymes
cum shorte of his desyre.
He myghte haue forsde him therunto:
but Tigelle, if it had
Cumde in his braine, woulde of him selfe,
take on as he were mad,
He, Bacchus ballets woulde recorde,
sumtymes the trible parte,
Sum tymes, the quauerynge deskantdure
sumtimes, to vaunte his arte,
A boysterouse basse he bounsed out,
and iumbled on his stringes,
No dram he had of constancy:
so fickle in his thinges.
Ofte tymes, he ran, as fled from foe,
oftetymes in solemne pace
He woulde proceade, as thoughe he were
in seruynge Iunos grace.
Sumtymes, an hundreth watyng men.
sumtymes he kepte but ten:
Sumtymes he spoke of potentats,
and on his honour then
Was all his talke: sumtymes, let me
one dishe well dighted haue,
(Thus would he say), and one course gowne
my corps from coulde to saue.
To this good husbande, that coulde be
with pittance smale content,
If sum good frendly man, of hope
ten hundred crownes had lent:
Within fyue days, no groate he had,
in purse, ne yet in cheste:
Al nighte he walkde, whilste morning came,
all day he tooke his reste.
Was neuer man so litle stayde.
but sum, will say to me,
And what are you? sum selye sainte?
nay, halfe as ill as he:
One Mauius, did frumpe, and floute
at Neuie (then awaye:)
A frende of his, a stander by,
what serray, what I say?
(Quod he): doste thou not know thy selfe,
nor thincke that we the know?

Meuius.

My selfe, yes, I wincke at my selfe:
therfore, a wincking dawe.

Po.

This is a wicked, witlesse loue,
not to be wincked at:
Synce thou doste know, and see thy sinne,
and vse to wyncke at that:
What meaneste thou, in others faults,
so pearsantly to prye

Epidaure taken for all kynde of serpents.

With Egles syghte, or Epidaurs
that sutle serpentes eye?
But if in case, an other carpe
sum cryme he sees in thee,
He is too rashe, and vndiscreete,
and no good fellowe he.
A sheepe, a verey gestyng stocke,
he treades his shoe awrye,
His gowne sitts slacke, his heade vnkempte,
vnciuyle, by and by.
But he his good, and godly to,
and one that wils the well,
And thoughe his bodye be not braue,
greate witte may in him dwell.
Well, ryfle thow thy conscience,
and looke thou be not led
With any vyce, which nature hath,
or custome in the bred.
In feildes vnforowde frute is none,
for brakes all ouer growes:
To blow retreate, and to returne
from whence my matter flowes:
If we doe strongly loue a thinge,
and lyke it very muche,
Thoughe faultes in it be euident,
yet we will see none suche,
I would in race of amytie
such dotage we might vse,
And that vertue by honest name,
such curtsye would excuse.
For as the father for ill shape,
his sonne doth not disdayne:
So frends, at times must beare with frends,
though faultes to them remayne.
The sonne he squynts, the father sayth,
he hath a pincking eye,
His legges misshapde, the father sayth,
his legge but standes a wrye.
The parents pleasure much to prayse,
and prattle to the ladde,
Thy foote is very great (sayth he)
thy foote is swelde to bad.
Hast thou a frend that dyets hard?
Well, cal him thrifty than:
Hast thou a frende, a bragging lout?
call him a iollye man,
The kinge of fellowes amongst frends,
for him no better name.
Hast thou a frend with face of brasse,
that bragges without all shame?
Compt him of stearne, and haughtye hearte,
that wel dare speake his minde,
That wil not flatter, nor yet feare,
how soeuer blowes the wynde.
If he be suttle, cal him sage,
if wylye, cal him wise:
This, thisis it, that winnes thy frendes,
and wun in frendship tyes.
But wee, full ill construction,
of vertue selfe do make,
And eftsones do eclipps the prayse,
thats due for vertues sake.
For, if with vs be conuersaunte
sum humble lowly soule,
We call him goose, and disarde doult,
and fowlye fatted nowle.
Add if a man deale waryly,
and beare him selfe vpryght
Amongst such folke as foster fraude,
and practise slylye sleighte,
For name of skilful, wyttye man,
and one that takes good heede.
He is a deepe dissembling man,
and crafty for his meede,
If that a man can not conceale,
but tell his verdicte free,
(As I Mæcenas patrone myne,
haue done full oft to the:)
If that he speake to one thats whishte,
or loketh on his booke,
Or talke not all in printe, or tune,
(say we) this coddes heade, (looke)
This asse, doth want his common sence.
woes me and out, (alas)
How doe we aggrauate suche lawes,
as gainst our selues doth pass?
For faultles (doubtles) borne is none,
and he is euen the beste,
Whose lyfe syncere admitteth fiew,
and with the least is preste.
A frindely man, (as mete it is)
the good with bad wil wey,
If muche be bad, and more be good,
let soulderde frendship stay.
Let vs in equall ballance paise,
and do as we would haue:
Wouldst thou thine own offences cloke?
in others faultes not raue.
It is but right, that mum should mum.
and perdon, perdon craue.
For short, in that the vyce of wrathe
will be our tenant still,
And brutish part of modie minde,
wil lodge affections ill:
Why do we not by reasons rule,
and by proportion iust,
Deme of the cryme as it is done,
and mulcte it as we must?
If that the maister byd his man,
from bord to take a dishe,
The man dothe sipple vp the brothe,
or feede on broken fishe:
His maister hangs him straight vpponte:
who wil not hould him mad

Labio a lauishe toungued losell. vvho still vvas barking at August ther vpon compted madde.

As Labeo? and why not thou
as frantike, and as bad?
Thy frende offendes, and graunts his guilt,
thou wilt him not forgeue,
What art thou then? a testye churle,
great pittye thou shouldst lyue.
If thou him hate and shun his syght,
(as Drusos detters doe)
Thou shalt be dreste, lyke Drusos selfe,
he for to lende to moe,

A creditous,

Doth sheare, and shaue, and powle, and press,
well, when his audit cums,
When he most hopes of bestrecept,
and to suruewe his sums,
Then, gawlye wordes (for feare of strypes
(when he his coumpts hath red)
He doth put vp, with cap, and knee,

A good felovv

at those which from him fled.
Euander cums vnto my house,
perhappes, he drinks to much,
Or breaks a iugge, or staines my gowne,
or eats my dyat, such
As was preparde, and plaste for me,
is he the lesse for this,
A merry grigge, a iocande frend,
for euery sillye misse?
Should I go baull a maine at him,
as he had piekde my purse,
Or me discryde, his pledge denyed
or done sum thing, thats worse?
Who almost hath at any time
thought faltes of equall weight?
Philosophers, (that bookish broode)
maye teache the thinge by sleight
But skille, and practyse counterplea,
and profit it denyes,
Profit, the nurse of iust, and right,

Iustice rather by profit then nature,

as tyme, and sequell tryes.
When man abandond first the earth,
and scraulde out of the moulde,
(A dum vnwyldye creature)
through hunger and through could,
For foode, and harboure gan they fray:
at firste, with toothe and nayle,
And then, wt clubbes, and then with swords.
which vse had taught t'assayle:
Whilst wordes, ambasdors of the heart
for to bewraye the minde
Were putin vre: and names applyed,
then to conserue their kinde,
They ceaste from warres: made reare vp walles:
and poundinge lawes did make,
That none should filche, nor any robbe,
that none shoulde wedlocke breake.
For, or that cytyes had theyr walls,
or Helen came to Troye,
Haue women bathde the worlde in blood,
(the cause of dyre annoye)
But of the slayne was no recorde.
they raunged, in eatche where,
No spousailes knowne more, brute then beastes,
the make knew not his feare.
The mightieste man, like Bull in herde,
did wreake the meaner sorte:
Thus, graunte you must, that feare of wronge,
set ladye lawe in forte.
If thou wilte kalender in minde,
the consequents of tydes,
By noting longe dissente of tyme,
in what effecte it glydes:
Well maiste thou see, that nature telth,
What lyke, what leaue we muste,
Yet nature hath no pollycye,
to seuer wronge from iust.
But reason beareth stroke in that:
and profit patrons ryghte,
If reason reele, then profytte pants,
reason saues both, by mighte,
And as she doth, so will not shee
vse argument, that he
Which stealthe from hedge, and stealth from churche,
in lyke offence should be.
Let discipline alleyied be
in measure to the vyce,
When lyghte correction may take place,
fare not in tyraunts wyse;
Ne yet, when greate outrage is wroughte,
with ferule doe not stryke.
Where iustice slakes, there feare decayes,
when thou makste all faults lyke,
As purloyninge, with burglarye,
or robbinge by the way,
Trespasse wyth cryme, doth not thy doume
foredome to vs, and say?
That thou indede, in lyke effecte,
wouldste execute the thinge,
If choyse, by voyce, had hoste the vp,
inuested once a Kynge:
A kyng, eche stoicke is a kynge,
for stoicks all be wyse:
And, wysdome is it selfe a wealthe:
Throughe wealthe do princes ryse:
Wysedom is all: but thou arte wyse:
then safelye, be of chere,
Thou art fayre, stronge, and eke a kinge,
a cobler though thou were.
What wilte thou more? Sto: yes, Chrysip saies,
the wyse man mends no moyle,
Nor soles no shoes: Poe: lo, thus thou weanes
to turne me to a toyle.
The wyse man, thoughe he leaue the acte,
reteynes the arte, as how?
Hermogines sings not at al:
Yet musyke he doth know.
Alfenus made away his tooles,
broke shop vp longe a goe,
Is he not an artifycer,
or not a crafte man, thoe?
The wyse knowes moste, who knoweth moste
muste beare awayethe name
Of facultye: debarre him not,
but let him haue the same:
To rule a realme in facultie,
which, none but wise can tel:
If they can rule, though they rule not,
Kynges are they by this spell.
The stoicke wise: the wise can rule:
to can, is full as muche
As though he did: a Realme he can:
then, let his name be suche.
Can rule, is rule: none can but wise:
the stoicke only wyse:
The stoike therfore only kynge
by this so strayte a sise.
Yea stoike, art thou creat kynge,
then must thou mainteyne port:

VVitte alone insufficiente in regalitie, if it be bereft of other solemne and laudable appertinents.

Els, wagges in stretes wil twitch thy beard
and make at the a sport.
Except thou take the to thy handes,
and fence the with a sticke:
Theile make the braste for agonye,
in crowding the so thicke.
And thou a wise, witpuisaunt kinge.
that houlds thy crown by witte:
Shalt be enforst, to howle and crye,
(for suche a state vnfitte.)
In breife, when thou a kinge at meales,
dost ryse, or syt the downe,
So sore precyse thou art that none
will byde the, but sum clowne.
But if that I miscarye ought,

Cryspine.

my frends will make the best,
So I to them, so they to me,
and this ingendreth rest.
Thus, doe I passe my pleasaunte dayes
and feare no stormye thinge,
This priuate life I would not chaunge
with thee, pretensed kyng.

The fourth satyre [of Horace].

The Poet Aristophanes
Eupolis, and Cratine,
And auncients moe, whose interludes
are saust with sayings fine,
If any person were mislyude
in theft, or leachers lore,
Or wher a roisting quareller,
they woulde display him sore,
Hence, Lusill boroud al his vaine,
those presidents he tooke,
The matter sharpe, the feete but chaungde,
the forme ful sleke did looke.
In deede, the sence was too to tarte,
within an howers space,
Two hundreth verses he would make,
thought he, a gift of grace.
And would not moue his foote with al.
But huddle he would roule,
To halfe might wel bene scummed of,
an ydle chatting soule.
A milke sop long to pen a woorke,
much more to pen it wel,
The length is not material,
the scapes he must expell.
Crispinus, that greate length louer
with finger doth me call,
And darreins combats, if I dare:
should Crispine me appall?
Nay, thers my gloue geue velom here,
geue iudges, tyme, and place,
Lets see which one can more indite,
and wyth a better grace.
Well haue the godds appointed me,
of no corragious witte,
And speakinge seelde that I ne shoulde,
confounde the foole with it.
But thou (syr Crispine) in thy mynde,
assembles fansies ofte,
As bellowes sup and beltch out wyndes,
to make the yron softe.
O lerne not so to puffe and blowe,
saincte Fannie followe well,
That thou bestowde in surlye tombe

Fannie an arche Asse or blockheade in vvhose memoriall vvas erected a block.

thy statues here may dwell.
As for my woorkes obliuion
will raze them out of minde:
A fewe or none that will, or dare
behoulde them can I fynde.
Wote you not why? corrosyue style,
is corsey to the eye.
They dreame a thing that blamed here,
their counterfette should lye.
They dreame a truth for fynde me one,
amongste the sonnes of men:
But loue of goods, or loue of rule,
doth fonde him now and then.
Sum lyue catesnd in Cupids chaines,
and sum loue blasinge golde,
And sum a sum of syluer whyte,
or curraunte mettall wolde.
Sume kepe exchaunge from Easte, to Weste,
and sore vpon the Seas:
Toste and retoste, (lyke wherlwynd duste
ekynge the yr owne disease
For mainteyn a unce of gotten stocke,
or els to make it more.
All these do stande in awe of rymes,
and hate the Poets sore.
The Poets proyne, beware (say they)
that they may ieste their fill,
They spare no speache, they spare no frende,
fooles lauishe, and to ill.
And if their toyes in letters lymde
be printed once in booke:
Then all the worlde muste take the vewe,
and all sortes on them looke.
If this be true: then harke agayne,
I am no Poet, I.
No Poet such as is discryude,
am not I so? and why?
Not hea Poet, that can make
an haltinge hudlynge verse:
Nor he in paltrye daylie talke
that can his tale reherse.
Him Poet dub, whose wit is sharpe,
whose mynde doth mounte on hye,
Whose throat is shyrle in trumpet wyse,
to coutche mennes acts in skye.
Therfore demaunde hath once bene made,
if comedies myghte be
A poecye, sythence in them
the spirit puffes not free.
No gourgiouse sounde in worde or sence,
saue that in verse it runs:
From prose yt differs but by foote,
but (lo) the father burns
In peltinge chafe, for that his sonne
on wantons madded is,
And leaues a spouse of noble dowre,
this breedes a tempest, this.
And that with torch n twylightinge
he treades the romye stretes,
How say you haue not commodies
theyr vigors, and their spreetes.
Old Pomponie, if he had lyude,
what stirre now would he kepe,

Pomponius an impacient nygarde.

(thinge comicall) because his sonne,
is drent in debt so depe?
And what thoughe father Pomponie
should grate his gaule in twaine,
Affection makes no poecie,
but lustie, loftye vayne.
Its not inough to pen a verse,
in vernishde wordes and pure,
Eche worde alone must haue his sounde,
and seme not to demure.
Those simple wordes playmakers vse,
those vse Lusill and I.
So nyse, so neate, so numberouse.
that alls not worth a flye.
Disorder but the glydinge gate,
the wordes appeareth tame,
No glose there is of maiestie,
not such as in this same.
Foule moodi Mars broke brasen bars
bare boulstred boulwarkes back.
These wordes transposde, yet eche one hath
of Poesye a smacke:
And thus much now, an other tyme
if rymes allowde may be.
But now, why should this kynde of style,
be so suspect in me.
Promoters seeke, and pere eche wher,
and vse to woorke much woe,
Accusing and molesting men,
whersoeuer they do goe,
Feared, and much adrad of theues
and losels loose of life,
Not fearde of those that pilfer not,
nor broch no brabling strife.
Admit thou wart a naughtie packe,

Birrus and Cestas, for al naughtie packes.

as diuers other be,
I am not one that doth promote,
why art thou fraide of me?
My verses geue no gase from walls,
ne yet in tauernes fly,
Not Tigell nor such alegunners
my workes do ouerprye.
I shew them but to very frendes,
and at their great request:
Not to eche hobb, nor euery wher.
sum be that thincke it best,
Their quaynt deuises to proclame,
in market, fayre, and marte:
To reade them graue, & sounde them braue,
and to vnfoulde their arte.
Such pleasure haue pride practisers,
who do it not to mende,
Nor learne a decencie in thinges,
for no such honest ende.
A mallipert a merchaunte I
of malice (thou wilt say)
I vse this talke: whence issude this,
gainst me that thou dost lay?
Or which of my companions
hath this instilde to the?
Who pincheth at his frend, not prest,
or if he burned be,
Doth not alleuyate his blame,
who scoffes to make men smyle,
Who plyes for to be plausible,
and doth his flowtinge file,
Who can inuente things neuer mente,
who nothinge can conceale:
Such one is naughtes, beware of him,
and naughte to him reueale.
Sumtymes, at table thou shalte see
a dosen more or lesse,
Eche seekynge eche ortwharte the thums
with tauntes, and tearmes to dresse.
Their hoste they spare, for manner sake,
till Bacchus tyde be vp:
Then out muste al, mine hoste, myne hoste
is scande at euery cup.
Rayling thou hates, yet doste thou coumpte
raylers but mery men,
Good felows, francke, and free of speache:
If I haue iested then,
At Rufills tast Gorgonies smel,
(two paragons of pryde)
I am no freatinge ghoste therefore,
nor slaundrouse, all things tryde.
If chaunce we talke of Petills pranckes
how he from tower stole,
A massye peece of bullion golde,
(to twyne thy tale in hole)
Thou shaps it thus: (as is thy trade)
Petille, I know him well,
I haue sum cause to speake for him,
for he and I did dwell
Of childerne little in one house,
my fellow, and my frende,
Much hath he done for me at times,
I founde him euer kynde.
And yet I maruayle how he coulde
rub out this trespasse so.

Logille a fish vvhyt vvithout and black vvithin.

(Lo) here a craftye postles parte,
loe here a Logille lo
Ha, false malignaunte wreaking minde,
this vyce I do expell.
As cancre freate, from hearte and booke,
moste true it is I tell,
For certaintie I lyke it not,
then licence me the more,
To gesse aloufe, not hard to scratche
but clawe about the sore.
My father, he did vsuallie,
dehorte me from this sin,
By manifolde examples, which,
through talke he woulde bringe in.
Still warning me not to ingrate,
nor speke not much to lyue,

Olde Horace his talke.

But thryftylye, contentedly
enioye that he would geue.

Albie and Barns Scatter gooddes.

Maiste thou not see younge Albie now
how he is cumde to naughte,
Backbyting Bar most beggerlike?
Ingrayle them in thy thoughte.
Two presidents, that thou ne shouldste
thy fathers good mispende.
But when he woulde dehorte from loue,
his talke was to this ende.

Sectan wanton and amourouse.

Dissemblable to Sectans sorte,
no brothelmonger be,

So Trebon.

Kepe wedlocke chaste, let Trebons name
be warninge vnto thee.
The wyse men with their moralls sage,
by reason coulde the guide,
Suffyseth me that I can geue,
such counsayle as I tryde.
And if my sawes in time take place,
for teacher haste thou none,
When groweth, and yeres shal make the man,
youthes shipwracke will be gone.
Thus woulde he turne my plyant youth,
and what he wild in worde,
For patterne he woulde bid me marke,
The lyfe of sum good Lorde.
So, if he would inhibite me,
that is no godly deede
My sonne (sayth he): and here vpon,
sum foule reporte will breede.
For euen like as when neigbours dye,
the sickmans chaunging luste,
For feare doth stay, and is contente,
to cum to dyet iuste:
So skillesse youth to see defame
of others, may take heede,
And slip not into vyces snare,
nor listen to her reede.
Hereby I stayed my tempting age,
and did no haynouse sin
In easye crymes, and veniall
I haue bene trapped in.
And these, (no doubte) wil wayne a waye
and ebb, as they did ryse,
By helpe of yeares, by frendes reproofe
and by myne owne aduyce.
As I lye in my bed sumtymes,
on matters thus I muse,
Thrifte would do thus, righte dothe diswade
that I shoulde thus me vse.
Thus coulde I make my chearfull frendes:
this was a foolishe parte:
Was I so fondlye ouerseene?
a foole sone flings his carte,
Thus do I mutter in my mynde,
Ere whyle at cardes I play,
(A faulte, amongste the meaner faultes)
forgeue me, Thou saieste nay.
Then Poets all preaz on preas on
helpe at a pinche: no dreede,
We be so ryotouse a route;

The multitude cannot be led from their fancies, no not for truthes sake,

who sayes but we shall speede?
As Iewes do measure all by nyghte
that none dare them forsake:
So we by number will men force,
in league with vs to take.

The fifthe Satyre [of Horace]

Pertinax.
God saue you gentyll Commodus,
howe haue you fared longe

Commodus.
Nay veryly euen as you see.
well lykyng fatte, and strong,
Of credite neuer better I:
what vrgent cause doothe make
You at this tyme from sacred soyle,
your iourney for to take?

Pertinax.
When we went to the holy towne,
from Englishe flocke infecte,
Our want was wealth, and coyne at wyll,
we were an happye secte.
But our long staye was oure decaye,
men grudgd to geue vs more:
And Sarum with hys subtile booke

B. Salis.

hath cropte our credite sore.
Before, we gaue a countenaunce,
to all the worlde so wyde:
That our intent was wholly bent,
to haue our quarell tryde.
Suche cautels had we to beare of,
that who gainst vs did wryte,
We swore he was falne from the Churche,
of gyddynesse or spyte.
We bare them down that they were nought
rashe, raylyng, and yll spoken,
Lewde, and vnlearnde: but nowe our stythe
of forgery is broken.
Sarum hath walkde so waryly,
(it greuethe me to name hym)
That moste of men doo see his truthe,
we wote not why to blame hym.
Nowe they dispaire oure prostrate cause,
and of our safe retourne:
And suffer vs in beggery,
(Ah silly case) to mourne.

Commodus.
Ah silly case, nay silly fooles,
you myght haue lyued here,
In wealth and blisse, and euen as there,
haue kepte your conscience clere.

Pertinax.
In deede your letter writ to me,
dyd signifye no lesse:
But howe that you can vse it so,
I woulde you should expresse.
Synce I came laste into the realme,
it was toulde me of trouthe,
That you aboue the rest of men,
vse to be freattynge wrothe
With ceremonies, is it so?
Iesu, what shoulde one hope,
They say that you doo caste them of,
as brought in by the Pope.
Can you speake so precisely here:
and beare vs so in hande?
You are no doubte no Catholike
as now the case doth stande.
No Catholyke: Ah Pertinax
thou arte a mery man.

Commodus
I speake, I graunte against the pope,
and speake the worste I can,
And profitte him, yet more then you,
(perhappes ye gin to muse)
But harke to me, and listen well
what practise I doe vse.
When you did cut the salt sea fome,
with framed timbre borde,
And yeade to Louaine there to heare,
the Latine Romishe worde,
Then storminge in my thoughtfull breste,
and sharpe beset with cares,
In mortall waues I wandred still,
in maze of my affayres.
Feare caste in all extremities.
what shoulde I do, thoughte I?
To sanctuarie of papistes
to Louaine shoulde I flye?
That were away to begger me
to bringe me vnto neede:
And in so doinge, I shoulde woorke,
the mother churche smalle meede.
Æneas came into my mynde,
that feynde him selfe a greeke,
And by that meanes made manye soules,
Lord Dytis hall to seeke.
He can not hurte his foe the moste
that kepes the furst away:
I was resolude to kepe me close,
and see a furder stay,
I sayde my wounded conscience
did prickle more and more,
And wyshed after some of skyll
to remedye my sore.
I sayde my doubte was dangerous,
and therfore fayne woulde haue
Some clarkly man, of insight deepe,
within the same to raue.
Thys was the tenour of my tale,
that I woulde common fayne,
If some learnde man on thother syde,
woulde take on hym the payne.
The Protestants be mercyfull,
and glad to wyn vs all:
In brefe the chiefe woulde me at length
to common with them call.
Theyr reasonyng was to and fro,
to wyn me yf they coulde:
And I began as debonayre,
to render vp the houlde.
Now hearken (oulde frende Pertinax)
what was the spedy key:
To ope the locke of credits forte,
for me to beare a swey.
He that was counted too to fearse
and angry wyth the Pope,
I went to him, and prayde him ofte
my conscience for to grope.
Parted from hym, I woulde proteste,
and openly woulde say:
That suche one was the greatest clarke
that was on lyue thys daye.
He that was holden moste of zeale,
and to the worlde the best:
Hym woulde I prayse aboue the sonne,
and so I purchast reste.
No more demaunde made of my faythe.
I faynde me very ielous
Of other men, and sayde they were
drawebackes, and nothing zealous.
And still I praysde my confessours,
and made them so to swell,
Such pulpit hornetts by my meanes,
That none durst with them mel.
And what that they to feede theyr minde,
Or cholor ells would speake:
I maintaynde it with toothe and nayle,
in all that I coulde creake.
Then was I dubde as true precise,
and faythfull by and by,
And none was compted hoate enough,
saue he, and he, and I.
I whysperde to and fro a pace,
and playde my parte so free:
That quarells stept vp fast and fast,
A noble game to see.
And that the rest might learne to stoupe,
and I might grow vp still:
An other fetche by peecemeale, I
into them dyd instil.
My mayster lysten well (quod I)
take kepe, what I shal say.
Me thinks this church, this englishe churche
is clogged at this daye
With ceremonies, more then needes,
to tell you at a word,
I would haue all things iust, as they
were left vs by the Lord
This knew I was the deyntye dishe,
that so their passions fed:
I am not now to learne I trow,
to bring a babe to bed.
Now whether for true conscience,
or els that they might seeme
Sole gospellers, and that the worlde,
might so of them esteme:
Or els through our suggestions,
they gnawed so this bone,
That O good God, I would to God
they had bene let alone.
Nay trust me truly Pertinax
men would haue bene ful fayne,
To thrust out all those gospellers,
and sende for you agayne.
How say you, was not this a drift.
and that a drift of hope?
Am I not now, as lege as you,
to our good Lord the pope?
If there were talke of gospels grace,
of francknesse of our lybertie,
Then would I whet my tongue to speake,
agaynst the gift of pollicye.
And that our seruice was consumde
onlye in adoracion:
Wheras the pryme church vsde one prayer,
the rest in exhortacion.
That ministers, (why should they not?)
might goe euen like the rest.
In suits of silke, in theynes of goldd,
apparelde with the best.
That ministers might take and leaue
their orders when they would:
I went aboute to make al naught
by al the meanes I coulde.
This was my greatest anchoure hold,
I euer caste it thus:
The worse it fared with their churche,
the better much for vs.
Untoward case vnluckye case,
Ah Pertinax I say
(As erst I sayde) a trumpe a trumpe
was caste downe in our waye.
And he that caste it, hath surueyde.
and markde our cardes so well,
That al oure driftes is nowe fordone,
and you abrode must dwel.
As for my selfe, who but my selfe
I neuer felte lyke ease:
Not stoutest of the protestants
dare me in ought displease.
I made my matche I trowe with suche,
as dare not but vpbeare me:
What if I knowe their giltie prankes,
and therevppon they feare me?
Those wryng, and wrest the meaner sorte,
whose myndes and tongues are free,
And so imbecill all theyr strengthe,
that they are naught to me.
I nowe can dubbe a protestant,
and eke disdubbe agayne:
And make a Papiste graduate,
if he wyll quite my payne.
Liuings are myne, geuynges are myne,
the countenance is myne:
Promotions come to me alone,
or where I will assygne.
Yea Pertinax if thou wilte come,
of Laberinth ne drede,
I can conducte thee safe and sounde,
by vertue of a threde
I knowe who plaies the catte, and howe
her ioly kittles mouses,
I and my patrons leaue small lore,
in some right famous houses.
And if there be not speedie healpe.
against me and my fooles.
Ile driue their Gospell from the churche,
and learnyng from the Schooles.
In deede I studye harde my selfe,
but to what ende or why?
That I myght gette the greatest fee,
and put all others by.
As nowe I am, I coulde not wyshe
almoste a better staye:
If the precyse crepe vp agayns,
I knowe my wonted playe
In the meane tyme I tell them playne
they are the greatest clarkes,
And that for theyr greate constancie,
the totall worlde them markes.
Yea, I can tell them clawyngly
(but that is in their eare.)
That those whyche haue deposde them thus,
are persecuters cleare.
And if that some by pollicie,
in time doo not preuent them,
Ile egge them on to speake some thyng.
whiche spoken may repent them.
Well yf that those get vp agayne,
I kepe my iolly stay:
And if sir Pertinax you come,
I wyll not go away.
So that come papist, or precyse,
or formall conformable,
The precisde Papist kepe his roume,
lyke promontorie stable.
And yet, yf thou as palpable,
my conscience couldst grope,
Of honestie, I am full true,
vnto my lorde the Pope.

Shaklockes profession.

May happs when I haue filde my purse,
with takyng all this payne.
I will go turne from Commodus
to Pertinax agayne.

Pertinax
What Commodus, thou turnes thy selfe
as one shoulde turne the groate,
Turne rounde, or else thou will be spyde
in turninge ofte thy coate.
Becawse you talked of gropinge erste,
howe chauncde it heretofore,
That you agaynst the blessed Pope,
so solemnlye haue swore.
Speake oute man, are you in a dumpe?
howe durste you so farre go?
Iuraui lingua, sed mentem
non iuratam gero.

Commodus
I tould them then, I spoke with tongue.
but neuer mente it so.

Pertinax
Why do you heare their seruice still,
a thing of such abusion?

Commodus,
I could not els abyde with them,
to helpe them to confusion.

Pertinax.
What say you to the precyse flocke,
are they resolude that waye?

Commodus
Sum parte of them is like my selfe,
the conformable say
That halfe of those whiche busylye
against those orders clatter,
Are Papistes ranke: as those may see
whiche will suruey the matter.

Pertinax
Why doo they make so straite accompt
of thynges that bee but meane?

Commodus
Pythagoras, why dyd he put
mans soule within a beane?

Pertinax
What if your selfe for not wearyng
hereafter may be wrounge?

Commodus
Tushe man I made them longe ago,
a verey Aesops tongue

Pertinax.
Synce you against these churchly rites
so longe and sore dyd wynche,
Howe coulde you nowe resume agayne
so bucksome at a pynche?

Commodus
I sayde (as ofte I vse to say)
that I was very poore,
Nathlesse woulde geue tone halfe I had
that I myght weare no more.

Pertinax.
I go to healpe a papist nowe,
that ginnes for to recant,
And I go nowe, for to moleste
a silly protestant.

Commodus
O noble force of flattery,
Farewell olde fellowe myne,
But so farewell that you kepe close
and come to me do dyne.

Translatour.
Farewell a payre of hellyshe impes
of cankred Sathans race:
For you are enmies vnto God,
And his in euery place.
The true precise, none doo despise,
but all men knowe it well,
That they in learnynge and good lyfe,
moste commonly excell.
Not one of vs, but wylls them well
to keepe their godly name.
Nor euer thought to preiudice,
or to eclips the same.
Some be so wyse by Papistes guile,
they can not be abusde:
Yet Commodus hath fonded some,
it can not be excusde.
If I shoulde wryte of Commodus,
the craftes of suche lyke men,
The tricklynge teares for hearty griefe
woulde ouerlode my pen.
But none wyll looke to Commodus,
he beares the bell awaye,
Some guerdon due for his deserte,
The Lorde wyl sende one day.
The worlde is blearde with duskyng shoes,
and daselde with a glose:
But I appeale vnto the wyse,
and craue redresse of those.
Come what can come, howe muche can come,
I am at staye in mynde:
Theyr net of zeale, wherwith they steale,
for euer to vnwynde
Since God and our liege Soueraigne
bulwarkes to Truthe doo stande:
We feare not Commodus his crafte,
nor Pertinax his hande.

The sixte Satire [of Horace].

Not due discent from haughtie house,
nor thyne Hetrurie lande,
(Myne owne good Lord) doth cause thy name
and honour styll to stande.
Not fathers syre not mothers syre
two cheuetant sin the fielde:
(About whose banners suche a route
of lustye bloods bare shielde.)
Induce thee to be insolent.
(as moste of gentrie be)
To make a mocke of meaner men,
for thou acceptest me.
Whose father was infranchised,
and sayste, if dothe not skyll
Of petigree, so that oure owne
demeanour be not yll.
Of this full well thou arte resolude

Tullus a soppressor of vertue.

before kyng Tullie gan
So tyrannous a monarchie
imbecelyng freedome, than
By vertues spray, the basest borne
myght be the noblest man.

Leuynus a great gentleman hated of the people for his naughtynes notvvithstandinge the great admyratiō they haue to gentry.

Leuinus, he whose ancestours
kyng Tarquine droue away:
Through lyfe corrupt, and rainlesse youth
dyd worke his fames decay.
Neglected of the commoners,
who onely doo admyre
Nobilitie, and none but them
to honors would aspyre.
If it be so that lawlesse prankes
Yea nobles, discommendeth:
Who will prayse vs of baser blood
except our lyfe amendeth?
For what if Leuyn were estemde

Decius base borne.

and Decie were not so?
Leuyn a lowte and Decie stoute,
Yet Leuins kyndred tho,
Myght be induction to the rude,
to deeme of hym so well.
If that the counsayles President,

Appius.

perchaunce should me expell,
From Senate house, for vulgar stocke,
This colour woulde he make,
That base must byde in baser, roume
for ciuile profites sake.
But glitterynge glorie rauisheth
the poore and princely state:
And pleasurs not a iote at lengthe:
lette Tullie spell his fate
He myght haue past hys tyme in peace
declinyng lordly lyfe,
His royall robes rasde rancour vp,
and rancoure termelesse stryfe.
Suche is the worlde, who beares the swey
assuredly is scande,
Howe he came vp what parentage,
what was his fathers lande.
For as the yonger that would seme
moste hansome and moste braue,
Dothe make the mo to marke the more
if he suche features haue:
So who so thinks to rule in realmes,
and aufull swey to beare,
To place, displace, to dubbe, disdubbe,
to kepe the costes in feare:
The riflyng of his petigree,
muste thynke erewhyle to heare.
Durste thou (say they) a beggers brat,
in suche outtakyng rage
Take on thee thus to heade the peare,
to hang, and drawe the page?
Nouie woulde be a counsayler,

Nouie a petisobber Paulus & Massala.

in lawe I passe hym farre.
Though not lyke some of fyled tongue
to parle a case at barre,
But, he can sett a face of it,
with his forpenned tayle,
In solemne syghtes he thunders so,
that fauters neuer fayle.
Lette me speake well, speake what I can,
They laugh me styll to scorne:
He is to base to rule (saye they,)
in deede to basely borne.
Nowe grudge they me, because I am
becomde your houshold guest:
Before, because in warre and fielde
my rule was nexte the beste.
Thyngs muche vnlyke for be it so,
that honours enuyde be,
As fortunes gyftes, yet maye I well
be suppliant to the:
Whiche art by choyce of ponderyng witte,
of frendes prouided (lo)
Not roumerakers, nor rente rackers,
nor staynde with vices mo.
I dare not saye that fortune coulde
haue wrought me suche a blisse,
Not loreles chaunce, but Virgils lore,
dyd helpe me vp to this.
First Virgils voyce, then Varies prayse
your presence dyd procure:
At myne income, I lowted lowe,
And muttred full demure,
For bashefull shame dyd styll my voice,
and muche abridge my talke:
Therfore in blasing of my bloode,
my tongue it dothe not walke.
Nor how that I doo mount on mule,
in countrey gawyshe games:
I platly power out my mynde,
thou answere also frames
In briefe and fewe, suche is thy wont.
and after certayne dayes,
Thou calls me home, and calls mee frende,
and thus my griefe alayes.
A ioy to haue Mæcene my frende,
who good from bad doth parte,
Not by dissente, but lyfe wel led,
and ballaste breast with arte.
For if with slender single sinnes
and those but very few,
My vpright nature be infecte:
(as if in cumlye hue
A warte or twayne be euidente)
it is not muche to rue.
If gayngroper or muckmunger,
I can not proued be,
Nor spente my youth in daliaunce,
the case is well with me.
And be in charitable lyfe,
with all and euery frende:
I thancke my father for this gere,
he sente me to this ende.

Flauius.

He sente me not to lawyers shop:
to learne accoumpts to caste,
To be recorder, auditor,
to know to fetche in faste:
Nor as the gentles sende their sonnes,
to chatter in a plea,
Professing law, learne lawlesse lyfe,
and sayle in riotes Sea.
But lyke the babes of noble birthe,
to Rome I was conducted,
With lordly artes that might be seeme
the beste, I was instructed.
My garments suche, retinue suche
that most men did beleue,
My gransyres goodds did stay the route,
that hangde vppon my sleue.
My maister graue, well studied,
and much vnlyke a sorte
Who dissolute at eche smale suite,
do let their youth go sporte.
For few, as tip of all good name
he taughte me shamfastnes,
That shendful shame through worde or fate
did neuer me oppresse,
Not fearing, though I wente to lawe,
on him I shoulde complaine,
Nor doe: I can him hartye thancke,
and praise him, for his paine.
Except I madde, I may be glad,
eke of my parente base,
And do mislyke such kynd of skuse
which sum vse in this case.
Pardie (say they) not our faulte is,
our parage is so meane:
Pardye, say I, my voyce and heart
doth go against that cleane.
For if that nature woulde and coulde
reclayme my dulcet dayes,
And bid me picke my parents out,
mongst those, that beares the swayes,
Sum would no doubte did me take one,
that liftes the loftye mace,
And praunceth in the purple throne:
contented with my place
I woulde not chaunge: the moste of men,
wil thincke me straughte of witte,
But you, can wey the waightie state,
and iudge a ryghte of it.
For as auctoritie is greate,
so substaunce must be greate,
My viaundes greate, my charges greate,
my frendes I muste intreate,
Som, one, or other, must I haue
where so that I be gone,
To towne or countrye farre or neare,
a shame to be alone.
My meny muche, my traine of men,
my geldings fatte and fayre,
My waggons, coches, horselitters,
for coste I muste not spare.
In cytie, I must set vppon
me golde bespangled mule,
In deeper way, a trounsinge steede,
whome vneth ought can rule.
Els sum will checke me for my thryfte,
Lorde Tullus so woulde thriue,
Who Pretor would ride through the streetes,
his trayne no more but fyue.
Fyue peltinge laddes, (good senator)
at least must wayte on the,
And I may rome my mastershipp,
wheresoeuer lyketh me.
My selfe alone can chepen things,
and make my market well,
At euen, and morne, in fayre, or marte
from thence to where I dwell:
To suche pore cates, as I well lyke,
my supper reddie set,
A pott of drinke, a glasse of oyle,
my housholde stuffe not greate.
From that to bed, not crampte with care,
of that whiche may betyde,
Nor bente to go a pilgremage,
for my greate stryfe or pryde.
I ryse at ease, walke forth at ease,
and then a caste at booke,
All secretly, (a ioy of ioyes
at it to syt and loke)
For weryed with my bookishe gase,
I noynte with supple oyle,
My loytrous limmes and when sir Phebe
with brande beginnes to broyle:
I washe my corps in cooly shade,
my dyat smale and thin,
Of pretie pittaunce, not so muche
as stomacke woulde let in.
I calculate the coursinge starres,
how eche doth run, and rayne,
When noysom dogge doth flame in rage,
I cum not at the bayne,
But sytt at home: this is the lyfe,
so iollye, and so free,
That cherisheth and cheareth vp,
and so recumforts me.
As though my father, grandfather,
and vncle erste had bene,
Lordes treasurers, and lefte me knighte,
and ryche in chyldhood grene.

The seuenth satire [of Horace].

The fellone tongue of Rupilie,
that traytor mungrill kyng,
How Persius hath dreste in kynde,
it is no nouell thyng.
As common as the carts way that.
This Persie for the moste,
Did make his bode at Ginnia:
with Rupilie at hoste
With gybes, and glickes, and taunting strife
a brawler sharpe and sore
Rashe, arrogante, and by vse had
of ribaldrye suche store:
That from a dosen cacklinge drabbes,
the bell he mighte haue bore.
Well, to the kynge lyke dogge, and catte,
these two did then agree,
Lyke champions fell, their toylesum tongues
they vsde as weapons free.
For eche man seekes to noy his foe,
(the olde fayde saw doth tell,)
With prowes, and those martiall feats,
wherein he doth excell.
Twixte Priams hautie Hector, and
corragiouse Achill,
So keene and mortall was their wrathe,
that he did Hector kyll.
And for no other cause I trow,
but that, in those same twayne,
Lyke force in principallitie,
and parfytnesse did raine.
Dasterds will quickly parte them selues,
vnequall if they be,
(As Glaucus was to Diomede)
the weaker shrinketh, he
Departs in peace as recreante,
his ransom maks him free.
Lorde Brutus was lyeutenaunte, then
of Asia the lesse,
When Rupilie, and Persius,
to combat do addresse,
Lyke as two masters of the fence,
vnshethe their blades of mighte,
So these same two, tongue puisaunte knyghts,
with scoulding ginn the fyghte.
The auditorye numberouse,
the Persie onset gaue,
The people laugh, he praiseth Brute,
and his retenue braue.
Duke Brute, the sonne of Asia,
his men he cals the starres,
Balde Rupilie he rattles vp,
to combat if he darres.
He calde him hurtefull hatefull dogge,
to earthe, a greeuouse signe,

Flovvte

Lyke pleasaunte streame beset with woode,
so flowes his talke diuine.
Then Rupile let issue out,
his well ycouched wordes,
Throughseasonde, as the drubled lakes,
that keepeth aye in fordes.
So perfyt and exacte a scoulde,
that women mighte geue place,
Whose tatling tongues, had won a wispe,
to stande before theyr face.

A railers tōg insupportable, therefore not to be aunsvvered by vvordes, but repressed by rigor of the maiestrate.

The Persie see his foe so fell,
and how he did him snape,
Thoughte impossible to resiste,
ne wiste he how to scape.
Lorde Brute (quod he) my liege lord Brute,
for all the gods aboue,
Thou that arte wonte to hasserd all,
to win thy countryes loue,
To wringe the maces forth their handes,
to daunte the dukes a downe,
Be wrekde, be wrekde (thy onely prayse)
vpon this doggishe clowne.

The eight Satyre [of Horace]

I was sumtimes a very blocke,
the bodye of a tree,
The wryght vncertaine what to make
a stoole, or God of me,
His pleasure was to make me God,
mine office is to fray
Both birdes & theues, that wold cum filtche
our fruite from hence awaye.
As images (most commonly)
the woorkemen vse to make,
To purchase ease, or wealthe to men,
and for their lucre sake.
This orcharde was a sepulchre
indeede, a publique graue,
For Nomentane and Pantolabe
and euerye rascall slaue.
The plat of ground, was brode and square,
and of a mightie lengthe,
Sum tombes there were righte beautifull,
and of a during strengthe.
This place that was a dampishe soyle,
and whyte, with dead mens bones,
Is now a pleasaunte paradise,
to walke in for the nones.
The veluet grasse, the holsom herbes,
the trees in motley lyuerie,
Both arte and nature haue bestowde,
abundantlye their tapestrye.
I am molested very muche
with fowles, and cleekynge theues.
Yet moste these charmynge sorcerers,
vndoubtedly me greues:
Who doe with poyson, and with spells,
bereue men of their witts:
I can not stay these mother mabbes,
but they will charme by fyttes.
When as the moone beginnes to shew
her younge and cumlye face,
They cum to gather deade mens bones,
and hurtefull herbes a pace.

Canadie a vvitche.

I saw my selfe olde Canadie,
about twelue of the clocke,
Bare foote, hyr lockes about her heade,
Ytuckde in pukishe frocke.
She howled with on other hagge,
a coolor sallow man
Made them to looke, lyke gastefull goosts,
(good for to curse and ban)
These two with teeth did rente in twaine
a lambe of blackishe hue,
The blood resorted to an hole,
purple, and smoking new.
Thence did they cyte the damned soules,
from Plutos pallace large:
The soules, that al things should expounde,
as it was geuen in charge.
Stode statues two, the greate of wull,
of wax was made the lesse,
The greater gurnde with visage grim,
as thoughe he woulde oppresse
The lesse, which lowred lowtishlye,
dispairinge all redresse.
The one she calde of Hecatie,
Kinge Plutos chamber feare,
The other calde Tisephonie,
that hath in spite no peare,
Feindes, serpentes, furyes, hellish impes.
the moone inflamde to reade,
Thou mightes haue seene, the witches couch
behynde the tombes of deade
For beinge spyde, If that I lye,
the dawes defyle my noule,
And all the theues of Rome cum in,
and of my fruite take toule.
What shoulde I shew particulers?
by course how they did speake,
The witche and goosts how they dyd houle,
againe how they did squeake,
How they enterred in the grounde
a speakled serpentes hyde:
And hare of woolfes, and by and by
a flame there out did glyde.
And as the flame did grow in bulke,
and gan for to increase:
So did the waxen image (lo.)
by smale and smale decrease.
I markte the drabbishe sorcerers,
and harde their dismall spel.
The matter went so harde with me,
(there was no other boote)
I let a scape? Dame Cannadie
she moude her aged foote,
And trotteth on her way so harde,
that all her teethe out fall:
The other Trot lost her read hyue,
she hid her bushe with all.
There mightes thou fynde theyr coniurde hearbes,
their threades, and knackes of arte,
And for to see the beldams scarde,
haue laughed out thy parte.

The nynthe Satyre [of Horace]

Horace.
Well at this tyme, and wish to the,
all that thou canste require.
When as I see him haunte me still,
I askde him his desyre.

Str.
Why pardye syr, know you not me?
I am a greate lernde man.

Horace.
If it be so, I deme of you,
so muche the better than.
Lyues fayne, I would haue lefte him there,
and heruppon, I wente
Now swifte, now slow, and told my boy
trifles to none intente.
In faith I was through bathde in sweate,
and thoughte them in good case,
That were well in theyr chamber set,
or in sum secret place.
When he would praise the towne, or strets,
I answerd nought againe.
I see, (quod he) you would that we
were parted very faine.
But all for naught, it may not be,
Ile wayte vpon you now.
(Quod I) syr spare your coortesie,
I haue no nede of you.
I must goe se, a frende of mine,
whom you did neuer know,
Nye Cesars Orchardes, yonde Tyber
he dwelleth farre below,

Strange.
No busnes I, nedes muste I walke,
haue with you for this day,

Horace
Then (like the heuye lodened asse)
mine eares downe did I lay,

Str:
Syr if you knew my qualities,
there is no reason why,
Or Viske, or Varus should be more,
entire to you then I.

Viske, and Varus tvvo iolye Poets:

For who, for number or for grace,
dare mell with me in ryme?
Or who can daunce so footingly,
obseruing tune and time?
I can singe so melodiouslye,
that very Hermogene
Would enuy me, or if he harde
would yeld to me I wene.

Ho:
I thought to interchaunge a worde,
thy mother liueth she,
Or any of thy kynsfolke els,
that standeth nede of the?

Str:
In good time they are brought to stay,
and I remaine alone,

Horace
Dispatche thou me, so it must be:
for many yeres a gone,

Sabella a Prophetes.

Sabella (I a very childe)
did reede my drerye fate,
In folowinge forme, with tendre hande,
pressed vpon my pate.
Not poyson keene, nor enmies sworde,
this babe awaye shall draw,
Not stitche, or coughe, or knobbing gowt,
that makes the patiente slaw,
A prater shal becom his death,
therefore, let him alwayes
If he be wise, shun iangling iackes,
after his youthful dayes.
We came to Lady Vestas churche,
the fourth part of the day
Whilst language passed to and fro,
was passed cleane away.
He stode in bondes, (as he tould me)
in courte for to appere,
Or sentence els definitiue
should passe against him cleare.
If thou dost loue me frend (quod he)
to th' arches with me drawe.

Horace:
Nor can I stande vpon my feete,
nor know the cyuile Lawe.

Str:
I doubt if I shoulde leaue my cause,
or els thy frendlye companie.

Horace,
I pray the me, not yet (quod he.)
before me, by and by
He preseth on: my victor guide
I do succede a pace,
How doth your Lord Mæcenas now,
how stand you in his grace?

Str:
It is a rare and wittye parte,
in frendship long to dwell,
Horace, I tel the as a frend,
thou hast vsd fortune well,
If that thou woldste plante me in once,
(in forfitte of my heade)
Thou shouldste no doubte, haue me a frende,
woulde stande the in good steade.
Within a monethes space or twaine,
Mæcenas I woulde claw
That all the reaste mighte blow theyr nayles,
or go to shough the dawe.

Horace.
We lyue not so, as thou doste thincke,
no house, more pure then this,
Nor none, that from those mischeues vyle,
more cleane and spotles is.
His riches, or his learnyng is
no preiudice to me:
There is a place accordingly,
for eche in his degree.

Str.
A thinge thou tells vncredible.

Hor.
I tell a sothefast tale,

Str.
Thou makes me glow faine woulde I cum
to be of his counsaile.

Hor.
If that you will, you haue a grace,
his fauour for to win:
The first assaulte is very harde,
by suite thou maiste get in.

Str.
I will not fayle brybes shall corrupte
his cheefist seruing men:
Though once or twice the gates be shut
I will not cease yet then:
Ile wayte my opportunitie,
to meete him in the ways,
To leade him home, to curtsey him,
and cap him when he stayes.
There is no good for to be done,
whilste we are lyuyng here:
Excepte we lye, faune, flatter, face,
cap, kneele, ducke, crouche, smile, flere.
He pratlyng thus, a frende of mine
one Fuscus Aristie,
Met me, who knew this chatting syr
almoste as well as I.
Stocke stille we stande, he askde my whence,
or whether that I woulde:
I haylde him backe, and by the hand,
of frendship did him houlde.
Squinting his eys, he gan to nod,
to call me thence away,
And yet dissemblingly he thoughte,
to dallye and to play
My harte in choller perboylde was:
I wis my frende (quod I)
You sayd, that you a matter had
to tell me secretly.

Fuscus.
An other tyme. I muste go see
the circumcised Iues
In keeping of their Saboth day,
what holye rytes they vse.

Horace
I loue not that religion.

Fuscus
I, of infirmitie
Am scrupulouse: and therfore syr,
I pray the beare with me.
Herrafter I wilbe your man,
both when and where you will,
This day dismis me to go roume,
throughout the streets my fill.

Hor.
The churle departes and left me stille
to feele my sharpe distresse.
By chaunce there cums this fellowes foe,
who nowe had got redresse
At him by law: varlet, (quod he)
I charge the for to stay,
And pray you (Horace) geue me leaue,
my mynde to him to say.
Content (quod I) you may be bould,
to worke your will for me,
My troblesum companion
arested then I see.
Both parties cry, the croude growes greate
through great Appollos grace,
It was my lucke for to escape.
so comberouse a case.

The tenthe satire [of Horace]

Forsoth , I said, (Lucill) I said,
your verses run not rounde.
Doth any loue Lucill so wel,
to praise his iarring sound?
But he through tickling vp the towne,
with mirth hath wun a name:
And yet this doth not proue him lernde
though I should graunt the same.
So might our minstrell Laberie

Laberie delectable in minstrelsey, and yet not learned.

be coumpted learned than,
If merye mirthe, and onlye mirthe,
could make a learned man.
To make the reader laugh a pace,
is not a Poets part:
I meane not all: though therin be
a pretie pece of art.
He must be quick to make his pause,
and sentence fall in time
Els tracting long, to weryed eares,
wil make a lothsum rime.
His treatice interchaungeable:
now merye and now sad,
In Poets puffe, and now againe
in Retorique florish clad.
Sumtimes a fable trimly tould
doth worke in better force.
Then if the plaintife Poet should
besing his musies horce.
Sumtime to spare his eloquence,
and speake not what he can:
Such were the auncient interludes,
so wher they liked than.
And so farre to be imitate:
but neyther Hermogen

Demetrius:

Nor other, who would seeme to be,
so gay deuising men,
Did euer reade (I dare make good)
those lettred Poets workes,
Saue Catul, and Caluus, wheras
such paltrye baggage lurkes,
Tush, now I glaunce, and blame amis
for Lucill hath deuised
A tricksye woorke in Lattin coate,
and greakishe gardes comprised.
An auntrus act, I promise you,
O thou that knowes not much,
Cease to admire a man for that,
the matter is not suche
As it is thought, to sprincle here
and there a worde of greeke,
Sum assehead doultes in baggish style,
of greeke are not to seeke.
Excepte thou thincke that diuerse tongues
are better when they meete,
As mixed wynes, (what els?) become
more wholsome and pure swete.
Well, in thy verse vse Greeke at wil,
beware, that when at barre
Thou pleadest for thy clyent, there

Petillus:

thou goest not ouerfarre.
I meane as if some passing man
shouldst and in plea thy foe,
And sweate againe to grauaile the,

Publicula or Coruinus:

and worke thy clyent woo,
Use not thy two tongude phrases then,
like one of Canues towne,

Canues a tovvne vvhere vvas spoken both greeke and Latin:

Thou maist perchaunce become non suite,
thou and thy cause borne downe.
Once on a time, a Greek poeme
I dreamed to indite,
(A Romaine I disioynde by sea,
vnured so to write)
Lord Romulus did byd me stinte,
in pitchye silent night,
At midnight, when suche vysions
are coumted most of might.
In grekish tongue (sayeth he) to write
write vpon writinge still,
Is as to powre on fatted sowe,
more draffe drinke and more swill.
Therfore whylst Alpine shriketh out

Alhin a tragicall Poet.

the murdred Memnons baine
And Rhene descriues, I leauing Greeke
am of my Satyres fayne.
Which neyther shall in Guyldhall once,
be iudged of the Mayre:
Nor fede the eye on stately stage,
to make a meyny stare.
Fundanus may at his good lust,

Fundanus a comical Poet:

of ninctie fyncties write,
(I say) of harlots heedful guile,
of Dauus what a spite
He wrought to Chremes by his crafte,
That facultie therfore
I leaue to him as capitaine
in scoffing comike lore.
And Pollio, the princely iestes,
in loftie Iambiques maye
By vertue of that gracious verse
in tragike wise display:
So Varie makes his Elegies,
of quick, and liuely might,
And Virgill, well in rurall rime,
His gamesome Muse can dight:
A Satyre I, more sauerly,
and with more lucke attempted,
Then Varro, and a number such,
(al arrogance exempted.)
I doo not say, before my time,
But Lucille did deuise,
Nor euer ment to preiudice

Lavvtell Crovvne.

his crowne in any wise:
But now and then outtakingly,
he wil be ouerseene,
And bring such stuffe, wherof the most
omitted might haue bene.
I praye you (Lucille) saie me soothe,
nor bee you not offended,
Hath not your wisedom said or nowe,
that Homer migtt be mended?

Actins.

And hath not ioly Lucill to
the dolefull Actle chaunged?

Enius

And for to carpe him for his phrase
al ouer Ennie raunged.
Yet when he speaketh of himselfe,
He speakes not as he were
A better clarke, then those he blamde.
Why may not we inquyre
In waye of talke? if his harde style,
a matter good hath marde:
Or if the matter too vntoward,
hath made his style to harde.
If that a man thynke it enough,
and for a Poet mete,
Twixt meale and meale, two hundreth rymes,
to reare vpon their fete:
Lyke Casse, whose lauishe eloquence,

Cassus burned for his folishe bokes

was rushyng as the streames:
Therfore were burnt, his corps, his bookes,
(his hastye trauaylde dreames.)
If this be good, Lucill is good,
in suche respecte may he
Of pleasant head, and depe deuice,
and clarkly iudgement be.
He may be thought to haue enritchde
Greace, with his Satyre verse,
Muche better then an elder sorte,
whiche I coulde nowe rehearse.
Ryghte happy Lucill, that dyd see
so plausible a tyme:
If he had ben in these our dayes,
he must haue razde his ryme.
And paerd of all that was not trym,
and so haue bent his brayne,
That bothe he should haue scratchde his heade,
and bitte his thombes for payne.
For nowe, who lookes to beare the bel,
his doyngs he muste cull,

Horace,

At home with hym, and better adde,
then he dyd erste out pull.
Contented to haue pleasde the wyse,
lette go the skyllesse hobbes,
Who woulde esteme the clappynge of
a flocke of luskyshe lobbes.
(Not I in sooth): the iudgement of
one worthy personage,
In learnyng rype, in vertue iuste,
in verdite sharpe, and sage:
Geue me before a thousand lowtes,
and all theyr lowde suffrage.
Tigell he kepes a prattlynge stille,
his pages doo me pynche:
Prate what they can, the worste they can,
I mynde not once to wynche.
Suche carelesse, brainlesse, senslesse shrubbs,
suche sucklyng maultwormes who,
Doth take their words, but as of course,
and so can lette them go?

The vvise clerkes of that age.

The lorde Mæcenas and Virgill,
Plotie, and Varius,
Valgie, and our drad soueraigne
the greate Octauius,
And Pollio (I fawne not nowe,
nor flatter, thankes to pyke)
Fuscus, and eke the Viscie bothe,
I woulde they should me lyke,
Thou Messala, thy brother to,
You Bubilie also
You Seruie, and thou Furnius,
both you and suche lyke mo,
Frendly, and learnde, which now for hast
vnnamed I lett go,
Your praise I saye, fayne would I haue,
full sorie and full sad:
If I ne can fulfyll the hope,
whiche of my selfe I had.
Sir Tigell, and syr Demetrie,
Your dumpishe domes in schooles.
You may be stow ther as you liste,
emongst your flocke of fooles.
As for the wise, they winke at them,
nor wil not on them looke:
Go boy go note these sayings wel
and put them in a booke.