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The honest ghost

or a voice from the vault [by Richard Brathwait]

Brathwait, Richard (1588?-1673)

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To my Stationer Health, Wealth, and Liberty.

To the ingenuous State-Censor.

To all, or none.

The honest Ghost,

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Two Poems Penned by the Author, before his restraint, Entituled Loves Lottery and The Cuckow.

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Upon our Ages Messalina, insatiat Madona, the matchless English Corombona.

Phil. Porters Elegie: In answer to a Libelling Ballader, seeking by his mercenary Pen, to traduce his honour.

His farewell to Poetry.

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AN AGE FOR APES

The Ape of Honour.

The Ape of Pleasure.

The Ape of Vaine-glory

The Ape of Fancy.

The Ape of Fashion.

The Ape of Observation.

The Country Ape.

The Church Ape.

The Judiciall Ape.

The Politicall Ape.

The Chymicall Ape.

The Criticall Ape.

To the State-Critick.

The Apes Censure.

Upon the Censure of his Vision.

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The life of Polymorphus Simianus Author of this Poem.

[Hee who thinks I can flatter is deceiv'd]

[Virtue hath but bare credit; what's the matter]

[Who can prohibit me abroad to tell]

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Parthenia's Passions.

The western-Knights Pasquill.

Upon his Hon. Election of Deputation for Ireland.

Upon his Hon. returne from Ireland.

For the Right Honorable Charles Hovvard, Commander in chiefe over Cumberland, Westmerland, and Northumberland,

After his Assesse at Penrith;

Upon his additionall Assesse;

A parcell of partiall-guilt Justice.

For Colonell Robert Waters, Upon his Yorkshire Summons.

For Mr. Ralph Rimer, a discreet State Commissioner.

For Captain Aitee and L. Bolland.

To Captaine Sadler; a rare Scarlet dyer.

Upon the Commissioners sitting at the Wildman in York.

In Answer to this Paper of Verses, intitled The Quaker; whereof He was reported to be the Author.

A Button-Bung, or, A Westminster Snap.

Upon the Northern Feast, observed at Salter's-Hall, the sixth of October; 1657. Addressed to his worthy Countrymen, The Northern Society.

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A parcell of partiall-guilt Justice.

How! a Commission! Pray thee from what ground?
“To salve th' Assessement of three hundred pound.
Well, GIB. though this device thy Coffers ease,
The Cure may prove farre worse than the disease.
I could, but dare not whisper in thine Eare,
Lest some Eve-droppers for the State draw neare;
One day there may a Fowler come to set
And catch a Timing Baron in his Net.
No Scottish Style will leave thee Scot free than,
Fames Pencile shall ingrave:—Lo there's the man
Who spar'd no time with Conscience to dispute,
But roundly undertook to Execute;
“Whom? Justice; “How? To hang her? No, to Save;
“What? His Assesse.—So dyed this worldling Slave.
“Was e're wealth worse bestowed?—Stay, Sun's not set;
“More's to be done:—Last Sceane's not acted yet.