EPIGRAMS, &c.
[_]
Verses written long since concerning these present
tymes, made at random, a las roguerias de ses
amicos: Skeltonicall verses, or dogrel rimes.
xxxii.
[The king good subiectes can not saue: then tell]
The king good subiectes can not saue: then tell
Which is the best, to obeye or to rebell?
xxxiii.
[Happie to be, trulye is in some schoole-]
Happie to be, trulye is in some schoole-
Maisteres Booke, be either king or foole.
How happie then are they, if such men bee,
Whom both great fooles and kinges the world doth see.
xxxiv.
[When Charles was yong, to walke straight and vpright]
When Charles was yong, to walke straight and vpright,
In Bootes of lead thralld were his legges, though Rockes;
Now old, not walking euen vnto their sight,
His countrye lordes haue put him in their stokes.
xxxv.
[The parlament lordes haue sitten twice fiue weekes]
The parlament lordes haue sitten twice fiue weekes,
Yet will not leaue their stooles, knit vp their breekes;
Winter is come, dysenteryes preuaile:
Rise, fooles, and with this paper wype your taile.
xxxvi.
[The parlament the first of June will sit]
The parlament the first of June will sit,
Some saye, but is the yeere of God to it?
Fourtie: no, rather make it fourtie one,
And one to fourtie, but yee then haue none.
xxxvii.
[Zanzummines they obeye the king doe sweare]
Zanzummines they obeye the king doe sweare,
And yet against King Charles in armes appeare.
What king doe yee obeye, Zamzummines, tell,
The king of Beane, or the blake prince of Walles?
xxxviii.
[Behold (O Scots!) the reueryes of your King]
Behold (O Scots!) the reueryes of your King;
Those hee makes Lordes who should on gibbetes hing.
xxxix.
[S. Andrew, why does thou giue up thy Schooles]
S. Andrew, why does thou giue up thy Schooles,
And Bedleme turne, and parlament house of fooles?
Par.
Old dotard (Pasquill) thou mistaketh it,
Montrose confined vs here to learn some wit.
xl.
Epitaph of a Judge.
Peace, Passenger, heere sleepeth vnder ground
A Judge in ending causes most profound;
Thocht not long since he was laid in this place,
It's lustres ten since he corrupted was.
xli.
[Bishopes are like the turnores, most men say]
Bishopes are like the turnores, most men say;
Though now cryed down, they'll vp some other day.
xlii.
[When discord in a Towne the Toxan ringes]
When discord in a Towne the Toxan ringes,
Then all the rascalls turne vnto vs Kinges.
xliii.
A prouerbe.
To singe as was of old, is but a scorne,
The kings chaffe is better than others corne;
Kelso can tell his chaffe away did fly,
Yet had no wind: Benedicite!
The corne unmowed on Duns-Law strong did shine,
Lesley, could thou haue shorne, it might beene thyne.
xliv.
The creed.
Q.
How is the Creed thus stollen from vs away?
A.
The ten Commandements gone, it could not stay.
Q.
Then haue wee no Commandements? o wonder!
A.
Yes, wee haue one for all: goe fight & plunder.
xlv.
On Marye Kings pest.
Turne, citezenes, to God; repent, repent,
And praye your beadlam frenzies may relent:
Thinke not Rebellion a trifling thing,
This plague doth fight for Marye & the king.
xlvi.
[Heere couered lies vith earth, vithout a tombe]
Heere couered lies vith earth, vithout a tombe,
Vhose onlie praise is, that he died at Rome.
xlvii.
A prouerbe.
God neuer had a Church but there, Men say,
The Diuell a chapell hath raised by some wyles.
I doubted of this saw, till on a day
I Westward spied great Edinbroughs Saint Gyles.
xlviii.
[Flyting no reason hath, for at this tyme]
Flyting no reason hath, for at this tyme,
It doth not stand with reason, but in ryme.
That none saue thus should flyte, had wee a law,
What rest had wee? how would wyves stand in aw,
And learne the art of ryming! Then how well
Would this and all good flyting pamphlets sell!
xlix.
On Pomponatius.
Trade softlie, passenger, vpon this stone,
For heere enclosed stayes,
Debarrd of Mercies Rayes,
A Soule, whose Bodye swore it had not one.
l.
On the isle of Rhe.
Charles, would yee quaile your foes, haue better lucke;
Send forth some Drakes, and keep at home the Ducke.
li.
Epitaph.
Sancher whom this earth scarce could containe,
Hauing seene Italie, France, and Spaine,
To finish his travelles, a spectacle rare,
Was bound towards Heauen, but dyed in the aire.
lii.
An image to the pilgrime.
To worship mee, why come ye, Fooles, abroad?
For artizans made me a demi-god.
liii.
[Rames ay runne backward when they would aduance]
Rames ay runne backward when they would aduance;
Who knowes if Ramsay may find such a chance,
By playing the stiff Puritane, to weare
A Bishopes rocket yet another yeare.
liv.
[Momus, with venom'd tooth, why wouldst thou teare]
Momus, with venom'd tooth, why wouldst thou teare
Our Muses and turne Mores those virgines faire?
Nor citizen nor manners doe they brand,
Nor of the Town ought, saue where it doth stand.
I curst (I doe confesse) some nastye Mire,
And lake, deem'd poison by all Pȩanes Quire:
Endwellares safe, I hartlie wisht the Towne
Turn'd in one Rock, and still wish 't o're-throwne.
Else-where a nobler Town might raised bee,
For skie, aire, sweeter, and in boundes more free;
Yet there to dwell no shame is, nor be borne;
Pearles dwell in oysteres, Roses grow on Thorne.
His Rome when Cesare purposed to make new,
Himselfe straight fire-brandes on their Rafteres threw.
If in these wishes ought deserueth blame,
A Caledonian king first wisht the same.
My Muse (perhaps) too bold is, but farre farre
From tartnesse brest, from gall her paperes are.
lv.
On a glasse sent to his best beloued.
Oft ye me aske vhome my sweet faire can be?
Looke in this christal and ye sal her see;
At least some schade of her it vil impart,
For sche no trew glasse hath excep my hart.
Ah, that my brest var made of christal faire
That she might see her liulie portrat there!
lvi. Sextain.
[With elegies, sad songs, and murning layes]
With elegies, sad songs, and murning layes,
Quhill Craig his Kala wald to pitie moue,
Poore braine-sicke man! he spends his dearest dayes;
Such sillie rime can not make women loue.
Morice quho sight of neuer saw a booke
With a rude stanza this faire Virgine tooke.
lvii.
Encomiastike verses before a book entitled Follies.
At ease I red your Worke, and am right sorrye
It came not forth before Encomium Morie,
Or in the dayes when good king James the first
Carowsd the Horses spring to quench his thirst;
I durst haue giuen my Thombe and layed a wager
Thy Name had grac't the chronicle of Jhon Maior.
Had thou liu'd in the dayes of great Augustus,
(Hence, vulgare dotards, hence, vnlesse yee trust vs)
Thy Workes (with geese) had kept the Capitole,
And thou for euer been a happy soule,
Thy statue had been raisd neare Claudianus,
And thou in court liu'd equall with Sejanus.
Cornelius Tacitus is no such Poet,
Nor Liuie; I'll say more ere that I goe yet.
Let all that heare doe weare celestiall bonnetes
Lyke thyne (they cannot write four-squared sonnetes)
Which shine like to that Mummye brought from Venice,
Or like the french kings relicks at Saint Denis.
It is a matter of regrate and pittie
Thou art not read into that famous citie
Of Constantine, for then the Turckes and Tartares
Had drunke with vs, and like to ours worne gartares;
And the strange Muphetees and hard Mameluckes
Had cut their beardes, and got by hart thy Bookes.
If any them detract, though hee were Xenaphon,
Thou shalt haue such reuenge as ere was tane of one,
From this our coast vnto the Wall of China,
Where Maides weare narrow shoes; thou hast been a
Man for enuie, though such forsooth was Horace,
Yet thou no lesse dost write than hee, and soare ass
As farre in this our tongue as any Latines,
Though some doe reade their verse, that ware fine satines;
Romes latest wonder, great Torquato Tasso,
Writing, to thee were a pecorious asse, hoe!
Now, to conclude, the nine Castalian lasses
Their Maidenheades thee sell for fannes and glasses.
