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 | Commendatory poems |  |
In the lowd, alowd, or well deserued renowne of our Britaine-Vlysses: his present worke, together with a description of the particulars of the Vinet, Title-page, or Frontispiece.
If
Art, that oft the learn'd hath stammered,
In one Yron head-peece (yet no hammer-head)
May (ioyn'd with Nature) hit Fame on the Cockscombe;
Then, tis that Head-p ece that is crown'd, with Odcombe:
For, he hard Head (and hard, sith like a Whetstone
It giues wits edge, and drawes them too like Ietstone)
Is Caput mundi for a world of schoole-tricks,
And is not ignorant in the learned'st-tricks.
H' hath seene much more then much, I assure yee,
And will see New-Troy, Bethlem, and Old-Iurie:
Meane while (to giue a Taste of his first trauell,
With streames of Rhetoricke that get Golden-grauell)
He tels how he to Venice once did wander;
From whence he came more witty then a Gander:
Whereby he makes relations of such wonders,
That Truth therein doth lighten, while Art thunders.
All Tongues fled to him that at Babell swerued,
Lest they for want of warme Mouthes might haue sterued:
Where they doe reuell in such Passing-measure,
(Especially the Greeke wherein's his pleasure)
That (Iouially) so Greeke, he takes the guard of
That hee's the merriest Greeke that ere was heard of:
For, he as t'were his Mother's Twittle-twattle
(That's Mother-tongue) the Greeke can prittle prattle.
Nay, of that Tongue he so hath got the Body,
That he sports with it at Ruffe, Gleeke, or Noddy.
In one Yron head-peece (yet no hammer-head)
May (ioyn'd with Nature) hit Fame on the Cockscombe;
Then, tis that Head-p ece that is crown'd, with Odcombe:
For, he hard Head (and hard, sith like a Whetstone
It giues wits edge, and drawes them too like Ietstone)
Is Caput mundi for a world of schoole-tricks,
And is not ignorant in the learned'st-tricks.
H' hath seene much more then much, I assure yee,
And will see New-Troy, Bethlem, and Old-Iurie:
Meane while (to giue a Taste of his first trauell,
With streames of Rhetoricke that get Golden-grauell)
He tels how he to Venice once did wander;
From whence he came more witty then a Gander:
Whereby he makes relations of such wonders,
That Truth therein doth lighten, while Art thunders.
All Tongues fled to him that at Babell swerued,
Lest they for want of warme Mouthes might haue sterued:
Where they doe reuell in such Passing-measure,
(Especially the Greeke wherein's his pleasure)
That (Iouially) so Greeke, he takes the guard of
That hee's the merriest Greeke that ere was heard of:
For, he as t'were his Mother's Twittle-twattle
(That's Mother-tongue) the Greeke can prittle prattle.
Nay, of that Tongue he so hath got the Body,
That he sports with it at Ruffe, Gleeke, or Noddy.
For his Inuention, in his Bookes rare
Brass-face
Is seene the glory of it, that doth passe Grace.
The first doth shew how in a shippe he sailed,
When out of England he (go-ing) tra-uailed:
For, as he notes him selfe (and right well noteth)
No man goes out of England but he boateth:
Where he (halfe ore board) spralleth like a Paddocke;
And spues into a Whale's mouth called a Haddocke.
Right o're gainst it, there is seene th'Apparrell
Which he did weare when he found out the Barrell
Of Heydelberg: shoes, stockings, hose, and dublet,
With so much of his blood as fils a goblet.
Dropping in Creepers from his Trauels Trophie;
Lice Ile not stile them, lest you should cry, ô fie.
But, that which is most wondrous to consider
Is, one so leane so long, should be their feeder:
And that the Clothes which he went out withall, too
Should serue him and the Lice (which were not small) too
Till his returne, with but a little patching,
When's Rags (like catch-polles) greedy were in catching:
So, like an Israelite in Desert wast-land,
His Weedes held out till he had fully trac't-land:
And for a Monument to After-coommers
Their Picture shall continue (though Time scummers
Vpon th'Effigie to make Eyes delighted
With that which by no Art can be more sprighted;
And shew the maruell of this Metaphysicke,
That would haue fil'd some Trau'ller with the Tyssicke.
And so t'would him haue done, but that his Senses:
Were senslesse in pursuit of Excellences.
Is seene the glory of it, that doth passe Grace.
The first doth shew how in a shippe he sailed,
When out of England he (go-ing) tra-uailed:
For, as he notes him selfe (and right well noteth)
No man goes out of England but he boateth:
Where he (halfe ore board) spralleth like a Paddocke;
And spues into a Whale's mouth called a Haddocke.
Right o're gainst it, there is seene th'Apparrell
Which he did weare when he found out the Barrell
Of Heydelberg: shoes, stockings, hose, and dublet,
With so much of his blood as fils a goblet.
Dropping in Creepers from his Trauels Trophie;
Lice Ile not stile them, lest you should cry, ô fie.
But, that which is most wondrous to consider
Is, one so leane so long, should be their feeder:
And that the Clothes which he went out withall, too
Should serue him and the Lice (which were not small) too
Till his returne, with but a little patching,
When's Rags (like catch-polles) greedy were in catching:
So, like an Israelite in Desert wast-land,
His Weedes held out till he had fully trac't-land:
And for a Monument to After-coommers
Their Picture shall continue (though Time scummers
Vpon th'Effigie to make Eyes delighted
With that which by no Art can be more sprighted;
And shew the maruell of this Metaphysicke,
That would haue fil'd some Trau'ller with the Tyssicke.
And so t'would him haue done, but that his Senses:
Were senslesse in pursuit of Excellences.
Then (from that Trophey to descend a little)
Yee see when he his Gorge with Grapes did vittle,
Was out-rag'd by a Boore, who did abhorre it,
Till Tullies golden sentences paid for it
Disburs'd by Coryats Tongue; which so did trolle it
That Cicero him selfe could not controlle it:
Which fill'd the Boore with wonder to the Wozen,
That made him vomit sweet wordes by the dozen
In Toms deare praise; while he most like a Wag-with
Tooke of his Grapes as much as he could wag-with.
Yee see when he his Gorge with Grapes did vittle,
Was out-rag'd by a Boore, who did abhorre it,
Till Tullies golden sentences paid for it
Disburs'd by Coryats Tongue; which so did trolle it
That Cicero him selfe could not controlle it:
Which fill'd the Boore with wonder to the Wozen,
That made him vomit sweet wordes by the dozen
In Toms deare praise; while he most like a Wag-with
Tooke of his Grapes as much as he could wag-with.
Then yee descend, where he sits in a
Gondolow
With Egs throwne at him by a wanton Room-be-low;
Who lookes so masculine as shee were some Boy,
Playing the pleasant Tomboy with her Tom-boy.
Within which Egs was sweetest water powred,
That he to her might thereby be allured:
Which shewes the manner how he went in Venice,
When as hee tooke surueigh of that strange Sea-peece.
With Egs throwne at him by a wanton Room-be-low;
Who lookes so masculine as shee were some Boy,
Playing the pleasant Tomboy with her Tom-boy.
Within which Egs was sweetest water powred,
That he to her might thereby be allured:
Which shewes the manner how he went in Venice,
When as hee tooke surueigh of that strange Sea-peece.
Then doe yee fall vpon a goodly
Woman,
Which, for her stature, you would take for some man
Drest in th'Italian fashion, and doth stand for
Faire Italie it selfe, and so is scand for:
Who on the one side serues for a supporter
Of that long Round, wherein he is made shorter
By halfe (at least) then his length naturall,
And lookes as if he danc'd a Caterbrall;
With Ruffe about his necke set on so finely,
That you would sweare he nothing doth supinely.
Which, for her stature, you would take for some man
Drest in th'Italian fashion, and doth stand for
Faire Italie it selfe, and so is scand for:
Who on the one side serues for a supporter
Of that long Round, wherein he is made shorter
14
And lookes as if he danc'd a Caterbrall;
With Ruffe about his necke set on so finely,
That you would sweare he nothing doth supinely.
On th'other side the Round, stands one as tall too,
Drest like a French-fem, in a farthingall too,
Vpholding (as the other did) the Rundle;
Whose clothes, about the Bumme, tuckt like a bundle,
Doe make her stand for France; and so shee may well,
For she hath Stuffe to make her Doo and say well.
Drest like a French-fem, in a farthingall too,
Vpholding (as the other did) the Rundle;
Whose clothes, about the Bumme, tuckt like a bundle,
Doe make her stand for France; and so shee may well,
For she hath Stuffe to make her Doo and say well.
Then, ô ascend, before your last ascending,
And looke on that that's farre aboue commending;
A dainty Dame (not dainty of her vomit)
Powres downe vpon him (like a blazing-commet)
The streame of her aboundance from her Gullet,
And hits him on the Noddle, like a Bullet;
From whence it glanceth all those Fruits to water
That in his way he gather'd like a Cater;
Which Damsell, with her free ebriety,
Doth lie, or sit, or stand for Germany.
Vpon her head shee weares (beneath it smirking)
Of Heydelbergs the fore-remembred Firkin.
This, this is it that's Creame of all Inuention,
And farre surmounts the milke of wits intention.
And looke on that that's farre aboue commending;
A dainty Dame (not dainty of her vomit)
Powres downe vpon him (like a blazing-commet)
The streame of her aboundance from her Gullet,
And hits him on the Noddle, like a Bullet;
From whence it glanceth all those Fruits to water
That in his way he gather'd like a Cater;
Which Damsell, with her free ebriety,
Doth lie, or sit, or stand for Germany.
Vpon her head shee weares (beneath it smirking)
Of Heydelbergs the fore-remembred Firkin.
This, this is it that's Creame of all Inuention,
And farre surmounts the milke of wits intention.
Then vaile your Eye againe that is aspiring,
And see the Horse and Cart he had for tyring.
On one side stands (below) an Horse, or Hobby
Or Hobby-horse (I mean no Hawlke cal'd Hobby)
Sadled and bridled ready for his trauell,
When he his owne feet spurgald had with grauell:
And see the Horse and Cart he had for tyring.
On one side stands (below) an Horse, or Hobby
Or Hobby-horse (I mean no Hawlke cal'd Hobby)
Sadled and bridled ready for his trauell,
When he his owne feet spurgald had with grauell:
On th'other side the
Picardinian Chariot
Which some call Cart (that carted wandring Coryat)
Whence, if we looke vp, first our eye is meeting.
How Coryate from the Iew is Gentilly fleeting,
Lest if he staid he should be made a Præpuce:
And so of men, the only womans Refuse.
Which some call Cart (that carted wandring Coryat)
Whence, if we looke vp, first our eye is meeting.
How Coryate from the Iew is Gentilly fleeting,
Lest if he staid he should be made a Præpuce:
And so of men, the only womans Refuse.
From whence looke vp, and next shall your beholders
See Coryate carryed on the Atlas sholders
Of such strong Porters as doe helpe men ouer
The Alpes, within a Chaire without a couer:
All which (exprest so farre past wits regality)
Doe shew the pow'r of Coryats singularity.
See Coryate carryed on the Atlas sholders
Of such strong Porters as doe helpe men ouer
The Alpes, within a Chaire without a couer:
All which (exprest so farre past wits regality)
Doe shew the pow'r of Coryats singularity.
Then, on the top, but yet without the Vinet,
He lyeth at the heeles of many a Ginnet
As then in stable stoode on points of litter,
To shew his lodging was as hard as bitter:
For, both together he (most senslesse) feeles there,
And so on litter lyes he by the heeles there.
He lyeth at the heeles of many a Ginnet
As then in stable stoode on points of litter,
To shew his lodging was as hard as bitter:
For, both together he (most senslesse) feeles there,
And so on litter lyes he by the heeles there.
Right or'e against these proude braue Spanish stallions
Is seene how he doth begge of Theeues Italians,
With cap in hand, and lowly genuflexion,
Lest they should sincke him till the Resurrection:
So, shun'd the fatall handes of the Banditie
With wit that lackt not all of most almightie.
Is seene how he doth begge of Theeues Italians,
With cap in hand, and lowly genuflexion,
Lest they should sincke him till the Resurrection:
So, shun'd the fatall handes of the Banditie
With wit that lackt not all of most almightie.
Hold Muse, no more, vnlesse thou wilt be martyr'd
Within his world of fame that ne're was quarterd:
For, if thou seek'st in numbers to containe it,
T'will make thy browes sweate, and thy nose to raine it.
But though we cannot in this Frontispice
Number thy Stations, yet may we count-thy-lice;
Which (Tom) from one that (roauing) had no refuge,
Drop downe, to make the Glories flood a Delvge.
Within which Flood my Muse (like a Diudapper,
In Fame's wide mouth wagging my Pen, her clapper)
Is so ore-whelm'd, that as shee striues for more breath,
The Flood engulphes her, and her wordes deuoureth.
So fare well Tom (shee saies) great Natures wonder,
I lye thy fame a thouzand fathoms vnder:
For, it preuailes aboue the Alpes (high Mountaines!)
But when it ebbes, Ile spring in Castall Fountaines.
All to bewet the earth with streames of praises
Running to none but thee in fluent Phrases;
Vntill I make a second Inundation,
To wash thy purest fames Coinquination
And make it fit for finall Conflagration;
So to preuent fell Enuies indignation.
Within his world of fame that ne're was quarterd:
For, if thou seek'st in numbers to containe it,
T'will make thy browes sweate, and thy nose to raine it.
But though we cannot in this Frontispice
Number thy Stations, yet may we count-thy-lice;
Which (Tom) from one that (roauing) had no refuge,
Drop downe, to make the Glories flood a Delvge.
Within which Flood my Muse (like a Diudapper,
In Fame's wide mouth wagging my Pen, her clapper)
Is so ore-whelm'd, that as shee striues for more breath,
The Flood engulphes her, and her wordes deuoureth.
So fare well Tom (shee saies) great Natures wonder,
I lye thy fame a thouzand fathoms vnder:
For, it preuailes aboue the Alpes (high Mountaines!)
But when it ebbes, Ile spring in Castall Fountaines.
All to bewet the earth with streames of praises
Running to none but thee in fluent Phrases;
Vntill I make a second Inundation,
To wash thy purest fames Coinquination
And make it fit for finall Conflagration;
So to preuent fell Enuies indignation.
Explicit Ioannes Dauis Herefordiensis.
| Commendatory poems | |