All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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| [AN ARMADO, OR NAVY OF SHIPS AND OTHER VESSELS, WHO HAVE THE ART TO SAYLE BY LAND, AS WELL AS BY SEA.] |
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
[AN ARMADO, OR NAVY OF SHIPS AND OTHER VESSELS, WHO HAVE THE ART TO SAYLE BY LAND, AS WELL AS BY SEA.]
TO THE RIGHT VVORSHIPFVLL AND TRVELY GENEROVS SIR IOHN FEARNE KNIGHT.
77
THE DESCRIPTION HOW THE WHOLE NAVY IS VICTVALLED WITH THIRTY TWO SORTES OF LING, BESIDES OTHER NECESSARIES.
89
[Iniurious death, to make an Emperour mourne]
Iniurious death, to make an Emperour mourne
Fleabitten Otho's timelesse Exequies,
Who might haue liu'd, and borne great Conquerors,
And beene the father of most valiant Coltes;
Lament, yee Meedes, whereon this Palfray graz'd,
Ah! strew the streets of Rome with rotten hay.
Let Pease, Beanes, Oates, and horse-bread must with griefe
Rust Curry-combes, and Saddles rent in sunder,
Breake stirrop-leathers, girths, and bridle, breake,
Fall racke and manger, plankes all in twaine,
For you shall ne're support his weight againe,
You stable Groomes that comb'd his crisped mane,
And oft were grac'd to make vp Otho's traine,
Sigh, groane, and weepe, lament, and howle and cry,
In litter and horse dung euerlastingly:
Thinke how braue Otho did his breath respire,
Who with his heeles hath oft strook sparkling fire.
Fleabitten Otho's timelesse Exequies,
Who might haue liu'd, and borne great Conquerors,
And beene the father of most valiant Coltes;
Lament, yee Meedes, whereon this Palfray graz'd,
Ah! strew the streets of Rome with rotten hay.
Let Pease, Beanes, Oates, and horse-bread must with griefe
Rust Curry-combes, and Saddles rent in sunder,
Breake stirrop-leathers, girths, and bridle, breake,
Fall racke and manger, plankes all in twaine,
For you shall ne're support his weight againe,
You stable Groomes that comb'd his crisped mane,
And oft were grac'd to make vp Otho's traine,
Sigh, groane, and weepe, lament, and howle and cry,
In litter and horse dung euerlastingly:
Thinke how braue Otho did his breath respire,
Who with his heeles hath oft strook sparkling fire.
Heere Nero speakes.
The brauest beast that euer Emperour back'd,That thump'd the field of Mars with greater grace
Then Pegasus bearing Tritonia
About the valleies neere the Muses Hills,
In battaile swifter then the Northern wind,
But in a triumph stout and full of state,
Lifting his hoofes, as if he scorn'd the ground.
And meant to make the ayre support his weight.
As mannerly and moderate at his meate
As is a Bride-groome on his wedding day,
For neuer would he touch a locke of hay,
Or smell vnto a heape of prouender
Vn till be heard anoyse of Trumpets sound,
Whereby he knew Our meate was serued in.
But after meales, how he would meditate
Vpon his Tutors reuerend documents,
And by himselfe would practise what was taught him,
Offring to run the Ring, and fetch Curuets,
To trot in state as we were on his backe,
And to out-doe his schole-master in Arte,
The thought of these things (Otho) kils my heart.
Otho speaks to the two Asses.
Then these poore Animals haue cause to weepe,Most reuerend Asses, you haue lost a friend,
A friend, a father haue your worships lost,
Who would haue giu'n you pensions in your age,
And made you Beadsmen, free from Cariages.
When he lay speechlesse, on his death bed, then
He pointed to the hay-loft with his heeles,
As who should say, If I dye, giue it them.
Then to the Wardens of his Company,
(For he was made free of the Blacke-Smiths Craft)
He turn'd about, bade them pull off his shooes,
And take them as true tokens of his loue.
And as he dying shewed his loue to them,
Because his Master did delight in Playes,
He wil'd that of his mane should beards be made,
And of his tayle, a head-tire for a Deuill.
One Asse he made his sole Executor,
The other Ouer-seer of his will:
90
To doe andoue-see, that men may say,
They were Iust Ouer-seers another day.
Epitaph.
Heere lyes the Horse, whose foure foote ProgenyDid trot in blood before the walls of Troy:
Yea in the bowels of the Greekes perdye,
And on his brest this Motto, Par ma foy,
Kin (By the Sire) to winged Pegasus,
And by the Mother, to the King of Mules
Whose Vnckle was the great Bucephalus,
Whose Armes, foure Horse shooes, and the field was Gules.
94
The Suretie-Ship, with her Regement.
[With the cry of the Hounds]
With the cry of the Hounds,And the Eccho resownds
Through the Meade, through the fallow,
With the Horne, with the hallow,
With the Horse lowd neigh, & the Bucke at a Bay,
And with the Deers fall, & the Hornsounding knell,
My Pen bids Hunting Woodman-Ship farewell.
FINIS.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |