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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| THE VVATER-CORMORANT. |
|
 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
1
THE VVATER-CORMORANT.
DEDICATED TO GENTLEMEN, AND THOSE That Are Gentle.
2
[My Cormorant against these doth inuey]
My Cormorant against these doth inuey,And proues himselfe much better farre then they.
A Jesuite.
The Argvment.
King-killing Monsters out of Heauens mouth spew'd,Caters, and Butchers, vnto Rome and Hell:
The bane of Youth and Age, in blood imbrew'd:
Perditions gulph, Where all foule Treasons dwell.
Lands, liues, and Soules vnder the sauing stile
Of Iesvs, they deuoure, confound, beguile.
In setting downe this Sect of blood compact,
Me thinkes I see a tragick Sceane in act:
The Stage all hang'd with the sad death of Kings,
From whose bewailing storie sorrow springs.
The Actors dipt in crueltie and blood,
Yet make bad deeds passe in the name of good.
And kindling new Commotions, they conspire
With their hot Zeale, to set whole Realmes on fire,
As 'twas apparent when they did combine,
Against vs, in their fatall Powder-Mine.
All Hell for that blacke Treason was plow'd vp,
And mischiefe dranke deepe of damnations cup:
The whole vast Ocean sea, no harbour grants
To such deuouring greedy Cormorants,
In the wide gulph of their abhorr'd designes
Are thoughts that find no roome in honest mindes.
And now I speake of Rome euen in her Sea,
The Jesuites the dang'rous whirle-pooles be.
Religions are made Waues, that rise and fall
Before the wind or breath Pontificall.
The Pope sends stormes forth, seuers or combines,
According to his mood, it raines or shines;
And who is ready to put all his will
In execution, but the Iesuite still.
Nor hath this Cormerant long tane degree,
For Esacus more ancient is then hee:
Yeares thousands since Troyes sonne he was created,
And from a man but to a Bird translated,
Whereas the Iesuite deriues descent
But from Ignatius Loyala, that went
For a maim'd Spanish souldier, but herein
The difference rises, which hath euer bin:
From Man to Bird, one's chang'd shape began,
The other to a Diuell from a Man.
Yet here in these wide maw'd Esacians,
May well agree with these Ignatians,
First black's the colour of the greedy Fowle,
And black's the Iesuites habite like his soule,
The bird is leane though oft he bee full craw'd,
The Iesuit's hatchet fac'd, and wattle jaw'd,
The Cormorant (as nature best befits)
Still without chewing doth deuoure whole bits,
So Jesuits swallow many a Lordly liuing,
All at a gulp without grace or thankes-giuing.
The birds throat (gaping) without intermission,
Resembles their most cruell Inquisition,
From neither is, Non est redemptio,
For what into the Corm'rants throat doth goe,
Or Jesuits Barrathrum doth once retaine,
It ne're returnes fit for good vse againe.
Eightie yeares since hee stole the Epithite
From Iesvs, to bee call'd a Iesuite.
But I could find him out a style more right,
From Iudas to bee nam'd Iscariotite.
Though Paul the third their title did approue,
Yet he confirm'd their number that aboue
Threescore they should not be, and yet we see,
How much increased now the vipers be,
That many a thousand Christian lyes and grones,
Vnder the slan'ry of these diuelish drones,
And he that knowes but truly what they are,
Will judge a Cormorant's their better farre.
Me thinkes I see a tragick Sceane in act:
The Stage all hang'd with the sad death of Kings,
From whose bewailing storie sorrow springs.
The Actors dipt in crueltie and blood,
Yet make bad deeds passe in the name of good.
And kindling new Commotions, they conspire
With their hot Zeale, to set whole Realmes on fire,
As 'twas apparent when they did combine,
Against vs, in their fatall Powder-Mine.
All Hell for that blacke Treason was plow'd vp,
And mischiefe dranke deepe of damnations cup:
The whole vast Ocean sea, no harbour grants
To such deuouring greedy Cormorants,
In the wide gulph of their abhorr'd designes
Are thoughts that find no roome in honest mindes.
And now I speake of Rome euen in her Sea,
The Jesuites the dang'rous whirle-pooles be.
Religions are made Waues, that rise and fall
Before the wind or breath Pontificall.
The Pope sends stormes forth, seuers or combines,
According to his mood, it raines or shines;
And who is ready to put all his will
In execution, but the Iesuite still.
Nor hath this Cormerant long tane degree,
For Esacus more ancient is then hee:
Yeares thousands since Troyes sonne he was created,
And from a man but to a Bird translated,
Whereas the Iesuite deriues descent
But from Ignatius Loyala, that went
For a maim'd Spanish souldier, but herein
The difference rises, which hath euer bin:
From Man to Bird, one's chang'd shape began,
The other to a Diuell from a Man.
Yet here in these wide maw'd Esacians,
May well agree with these Ignatians,
First black's the colour of the greedy Fowle,
And black's the Iesuites habite like his soule,
The bird is leane though oft he bee full craw'd,
The Iesuit's hatchet fac'd, and wattle jaw'd,
The Cormorant (as nature best befits)
Still without chewing doth deuoure whole bits,
So Jesuits swallow many a Lordly liuing,
All at a gulp without grace or thankes-giuing.
The birds throat (gaping) without intermission,
Resembles their most cruell Inquisition,
From neither is, Non est redemptio,
For what into the Corm'rants throat doth goe,
Or Jesuits Barrathrum doth once retaine,
It ne're returnes fit for good vse againe.
Eightie yeares since hee stole the Epithite
From Iesvs, to bee call'd a Iesuite.
But I could find him out a style more right,
From Iudas to bee nam'd Iscariotite.
3
Yet he confirm'd their number that aboue
Threescore they should not be, and yet we see,
How much increased now the vipers be,
That many a thousand Christian lyes and grones,
Vnder the slan'ry of these diuelish drones,
And he that knowes but truly what they are,
Will judge a Cormorant's their better farre.
A Separatist.
The Argvment.
Here earth and hell haue made a false commixion,Of painted zeale, and holinesse, and loue:
Of Faith, of Hope, of Charity, (in fiction)
Jn smoake and shadowes as the fruits doe proue,
Hypocrisie, which long prayers doth repeate,
Deuoureth Widowes, and poore Orphans cheate.
Now enters next to play his Oylie part
A Saint in tongue, but a rough diuell in heart:
One that so smoothly swallowes his prey downe,
Without wrath shewne, or any seeming frowne.
You'd thinke him when he does't, in a Psalme,
Or at his prayers, hee's so milde and calme:
No noyse, no trouble to his conscience cryes,
For he deuoures his prey with heau'd vp eyes.
Stands most demurely swallowing downe his bit:
And lickes his lips with long grace after it.
This Bell wether (sit reu'rence) leades the flocke,
After his sence grafted in errours stocke.
This reu'rend Barrabas, a Button-maker,
Himselfe with trusty Demas his partaker,
Meets with their Brethren, Chore, Abiram, Dathan,
And tearme our Church the Synagogue of Sathan.
Wise Balaam, Nabal, Esau, Ismael,
Tertullus, Theudas, and Achitophel,
Phygellus, Himeneus, and Philetus,
(A crew of turne-coates that desire to cheat vs)
These fellowes with their ample folio graces,
With mumping chaps, and counterfeited faces,
Though they like shotten herrings are to see,
Yet such tall Souldiers of their teeth they be,
That two of them like greedie Cormorants,
Deuoures more then sixe honest Protestants.
When priuately a sister and a brother
Doe meet, there's dainty doings with each other:
There's no delay, they ne're stand shall I shall I,
Hermogenes with Dallila doth dally:
And Simei with Saphira will dispute,
That nine moneths after she doth beare the fruite.
When Zimri kissing Iezabel doth greet,
And Cozbi with her brother Cham, oh sweet,
'Tis fit to trye (their humors to refresh)
A Combate twixt the spirit and the flesh:
Prouided that they doe it secretly,
So that the wicked not the same espy:
These youths deride the Surplesse, Crosse and Ring,
The knee at Sacrament or any thing
The Church holds Reuerend, and to testifie
Their bastardy, the Fathers they deny.
And of themselues they frame Religions new,
Which Christ and his Apostles neuer knew;
And with vntemper'd morter of their owne,
They build a Church to all good men vnknowne,
Railes at the Harmonious Organs, and the Coape.
Yet in each Church of theirs, they raise a Pope,
Cals it the badge of Antichristian drosse,
When they see butter printed with the Crosse:
And yet for coine they'l any man beguile,
For when they tell it, they turne vp the pile,
Vpon the Sabbath, they'l no Physicke take,
Lest it should worke, and so the Sabbath breake.
They hate to see a Church-man ride (who so)
Because that Christ bad his Apostles goe.
Against our Churches all, they haue exclaim'd,
Because by Saints names most of them are nam'd:
If these new Saints, no old Saints will abide,
From Christendome they must, or run, or ride.
Saint George from England chases them away,
Saint Andrew doth in Scotland beare like sway:
From Ireland good Saint Patricke them will banish,
Saint Dennis out of France will make them vanish:
Saint Iames will force them out of Spaine to fly,
So will Saint Anthony from Italy,
And last of all (whom I had halfe forgot)
Saint Dauy out of Wales will make them trot.
And what vngodly place can harbour then,
These fugitiue vnnaturall Englishmen:
Except that with the Turke or Infidell,
Or on, or in the Sea, they meane to dwell,
That if in lesser roome they may be cram'd,
And liue and dye at Amster and be dam'd,
And sure I hold some Romane Catholikes
Much better then these selfe-wild Scismatickes,
For Papists haue good affability,
And some haue learning, most haue Charity,
Except a Iesuit, whom I thinke a man,
May tearme a right Papistick Puritan.
And for the Sep'ratist I justly call,
A Scismatick Jmpuritanicall.
But yet the Jesuit's constant in his mind,
The Scismatick is waueringly inclin'd.
Besides he thinkes whilst he on earth doth liue.
'Tis charitie to take and not to giue.
There are sort of men which conscience make,
Of what they say, or doe, or vndertake:
Who neither will dissemble, sweare, or lye,
Who to good ends their actions all apply,
Who keepe the Sabbath, and relieue the poore,
According to their portions and their store:
And these good people some men doe backbite
And call them Puritanes, in scorne and spight,
But let all know that doe abuse them so,
That for them is reseru'd a fearefull wo;
I loue and reuerence onely beare to such,
And those that here inuectiuely I touch
Are Birds whose Consciences are more vncleane
Then any Cormorant was e're knowne or seene:
Ile stand to'th censure of all honest men,
If they disproue me, Ile ne're write agen.
A Saint in tongue, but a rough diuell in heart:
One that so smoothly swallowes his prey downe,
Without wrath shewne, or any seeming frowne.
You'd thinke him when he does't, in a Psalme,
Or at his prayers, hee's so milde and calme:
No noyse, no trouble to his conscience cryes,
For he deuoures his prey with heau'd vp eyes.
Stands most demurely swallowing downe his bit:
And lickes his lips with long grace after it.
This Bell wether (sit reu'rence) leades the flocke,
After his sence grafted in errours stocke.
This reu'rend Barrabas, a Button-maker,
Himselfe with trusty Demas his partaker,
Meets with their Brethren, Chore, Abiram, Dathan,
And tearme our Church the Synagogue of Sathan.
Wise Balaam, Nabal, Esau, Ismael,
Tertullus, Theudas, and Achitophel,
Phygellus, Himeneus, and Philetus,
(A crew of turne-coates that desire to cheat vs)
These fellowes with their ample folio graces,
With mumping chaps, and counterfeited faces,
Though they like shotten herrings are to see,
Yet such tall Souldiers of their teeth they be,
That two of them like greedie Cormorants,
Deuoures more then sixe honest Protestants.
When priuately a sister and a brother
Doe meet, there's dainty doings with each other:
There's no delay, they ne're stand shall I shall I,
Hermogenes with Dallila doth dally:
And Simei with Saphira will dispute,
That nine moneths after she doth beare the fruite.
When Zimri kissing Iezabel doth greet,
And Cozbi with her brother Cham, oh sweet,
'Tis fit to trye (their humors to refresh)
A Combate twixt the spirit and the flesh:
Prouided that they doe it secretly,
So that the wicked not the same espy:
These youths deride the Surplesse, Crosse and Ring,
The knee at Sacrament or any thing
The Church holds Reuerend, and to testifie
Their bastardy, the Fathers they deny.
And of themselues they frame Religions new,
Which Christ and his Apostles neuer knew;
And with vntemper'd morter of their owne,
They build a Church to all good men vnknowne,
Railes at the Harmonious Organs, and the Coape.
Yet in each Church of theirs, they raise a Pope,
Cals it the badge of Antichristian drosse,
When they see butter printed with the Crosse:
And yet for coine they'l any man beguile,
For when they tell it, they turne vp the pile,
Vpon the Sabbath, they'l no Physicke take,
Lest it should worke, and so the Sabbath breake.
They hate to see a Church-man ride (who so)
Because that Christ bad his Apostles goe.
Against our Churches all, they haue exclaim'd,
Because by Saints names most of them are nam'd:
If these new Saints, no old Saints will abide,
From Christendome they must, or run, or ride.
Saint George from England chases them away,
Saint Andrew doth in Scotland beare like sway:
From Ireland good Saint Patricke them will banish,
Saint Dennis out of France will make them vanish:
Saint Iames will force them out of Spaine to fly,
So will Saint Anthony from Italy,
And last of all (whom I had halfe forgot)
Saint Dauy out of Wales will make them trot.
And what vngodly place can harbour then,
These fugitiue vnnaturall Englishmen:
Except that with the Turke or Infidell,
Or on, or in the Sea, they meane to dwell,
That if in lesser roome they may be cram'd,
And liue and dye at Amster and be dam'd,
And sure I hold some Romane Catholikes
Much better then these selfe-wild Scismatickes,
For Papists haue good affability,
And some haue learning, most haue Charity,
Except a Iesuit, whom I thinke a man,
May tearme a right Papistick Puritan.
And for the Sep'ratist I justly call,
A Scismatick Jmpuritanicall.
But yet the Jesuit's constant in his mind,
The Scismatick is waueringly inclin'd.
Besides he thinkes whilst he on earth doth liue.
'Tis charitie to take and not to giue.
There are sort of men which conscience make,
Of what they say, or doe, or vndertake:
Who neither will dissemble, sweare, or lye,
Who to good ends their actions all apply,
4
According to their portions and their store:
And these good people some men doe backbite
And call them Puritanes, in scorne and spight,
But let all know that doe abuse them so,
That for them is reseru'd a fearefull wo;
I loue and reuerence onely beare to such,
And those that here inuectiuely I touch
Are Birds whose Consciences are more vncleane
Then any Cormorant was e're knowne or seene:
Ile stand to'th censure of all honest men,
If they disproue me, Ile ne're write agen.
A Trust-breaker.
The Argvment.
A Foe to Iustice, a corrupted Friend,An outward Angell, and an inward Fiend;
A hidden Serpent, a most subtile Fox,
A Sugred poyson, in a painted Box:
A Syrens song, alluring to mishap,
A Snare to Honesty, and Vertues trap.
The Rich Trust breaker, vpon whom hell waites
Doth thrust into the Riuer of Estates,
His soule deuouring Beake, and at one prey
Will swallow fourteene Tradesmen in a day;
As many of the Country Lordships slips
Flapdragon like, by his insatiate lips,
The Father sometimes hath beene oft vndone,
By too much trusting his vnnaturall Sonne,
And a Trust-breaker hath a tricke in's pate
To bring a rich Ward to a Beggers flate.
For some corrupted men haue got tuition,
Of rich mens Heires, and changed their condition
With false inducements to Recusancy,
Or suffring them through prodigality
To run so farre in debt that all their Lands
Are lost before they come into their hands.
Faire Schooles of learning haue bin built frō ground
For Boyes whose fathers were not worth fiue pound;
But false Trust-breakers hold it for no sinne,
To keepe out poore mens Sonnes, take rich mens in.
This Breach of Trust is multiplide in time
T' a Catholike and vniuersall crime,
That man to man is growne so much vniust,
That hee's a wise man that knowes who to trust.
But (if there be such) they doe want much care,
Who trust not in the world, nor trusted are.
Collectorships the Common wealth may lurch,
For Burnings, Highwayes, Bridges, or the Church,
For losse at Sea, for Hospitals and Schooles,
One hundred knaues, may make ten thousand fooles.
Yet these things are so needfull as I wot,
Hee's a base villaine that contributes not,
But hee's a Hell-hound that their Trust deceiues,
And the right due from those that want bereaues:
Why, this Trust-breaking hath the ex'lent skill
To make a Wife to burne her Husbands Will,
Because his first Wiues Children should not haue
The Portions that within that Will he gaue.
And oftentimes a gasping man for breath,
Distracted with the griping pangs of death,
Hath to a forged will suscrib'd his hand,
And dispossest his owne Sonne of his Land.
Trust-breakers may a sencelesse hand so frame,
(Though being sixe houres dead) to write a Name,
A rich man's wealth that's dead's like vntold gold,
And that's because it's neuer truely told:
For like to pitch it hath polluting tricks,
And some vnto the fing'rers fingers sticks:
But of all Rascals since the world began,
The Banckrupt Pollitick's the onely man,
In courteous fashion many hee'l vndo,
And be much pittyed and rewarded too:
For hauing got much wealth into his clawes,
He holds it faster then a Cormorants jawes
Can hold a silly fish, and at the last,
Himselfe, himselfe will into prison cast.
And hauing broke for thousands, there the hound
Compounds perhaps for ten groates in the pound,
Sets richly vp againe till him he sees,
To breake, to prison againe, againe agrees:
And thus a cunning knaue can with a trice,
Breake, and be whole againe, once, twice or thrice.
These Cormorants are worse then theeues therefore,
And being worse, deserue a hanging more.
A Thiefe speaks what he means, and takes your purse
A Banckrupt flattering robs you ten times worse.
The one doth seldome rob ye of all your pelfe,
The other leaues you nought to helpe your selfe:
And yet the one for a little theeuing may,
At Tiburne make a hanging holyday;
Whilest the great Thiefe may with a golden prop
To faire Reuenues turne a Pedlers shop.
In this voracity Father stands not free
From his owne Sonne, nor from his vnckle, he
Being made Executor to'th Scates of men,
My Corm'rant is a piddler to him then.
He will by cunning and vexation draw,
Heire, wealth and All, into his rauenous maw,
And when his gorge is full vp to the brim,
Into some loathsome prison vomits him.
There leaues the honour of a house and name,
To be exchang'd for miserie and shame:
Now tell me they that loue faire truth indeed,
If such mawes doe not Corm'rants guts exceed.
And to what place soeuer such resort,
They are the Fowle Birds both in Towne and Court.
Doth thrust into the Riuer of Estates,
His soule deuouring Beake, and at one prey
Will swallow fourteene Tradesmen in a day;
As many of the Country Lordships slips
Flapdragon like, by his insatiate lips,
The Father sometimes hath beene oft vndone,
By too much trusting his vnnaturall Sonne,
And a Trust-breaker hath a tricke in's pate
To bring a rich Ward to a Beggers flate.
For some corrupted men haue got tuition,
Of rich mens Heires, and changed their condition
With false inducements to Recusancy,
Or suffring them through prodigality
To run so farre in debt that all their Lands
Are lost before they come into their hands.
Faire Schooles of learning haue bin built frō ground
For Boyes whose fathers were not worth fiue pound;
But false Trust-breakers hold it for no sinne,
To keepe out poore mens Sonnes, take rich mens in.
This Breach of Trust is multiplide in time
T' a Catholike and vniuersall crime,
That man to man is growne so much vniust,
That hee's a wise man that knowes who to trust.
But (if there be such) they doe want much care,
Who trust not in the world, nor trusted are.
Collectorships the Common wealth may lurch,
For Burnings, Highwayes, Bridges, or the Church,
For losse at Sea, for Hospitals and Schooles,
One hundred knaues, may make ten thousand fooles.
Yet these things are so needfull as I wot,
Hee's a base villaine that contributes not,
But hee's a Hell-hound that their Trust deceiues,
And the right due from those that want bereaues:
Why, this Trust-breaking hath the ex'lent skill
To make a Wife to burne her Husbands Will,
Because his first Wiues Children should not haue
The Portions that within that Will he gaue.
And oftentimes a gasping man for breath,
Distracted with the griping pangs of death,
Hath to a forged will suscrib'd his hand,
And dispossest his owne Sonne of his Land.
Trust-breakers may a sencelesse hand so frame,
(Though being sixe houres dead) to write a Name,
A rich man's wealth that's dead's like vntold gold,
And that's because it's neuer truely told:
For like to pitch it hath polluting tricks,
And some vnto the fing'rers fingers sticks:
But of all Rascals since the world began,
The Banckrupt Pollitick's the onely man,
In courteous fashion many hee'l vndo,
And be much pittyed and rewarded too:
For hauing got much wealth into his clawes,
He holds it faster then a Cormorants jawes
Can hold a silly fish, and at the last,
Himselfe, himselfe will into prison cast.
And hauing broke for thousands, there the hound
Compounds perhaps for ten groates in the pound,
Sets richly vp againe till him he sees,
To breake, to prison againe, againe agrees:
And thus a cunning knaue can with a trice,
Breake, and be whole againe, once, twice or thrice.
These Cormorants are worse then theeues therefore,
And being worse, deserue a hanging more.
A Thiefe speaks what he means, and takes your purse
A Banckrupt flattering robs you ten times worse.
The one doth seldome rob ye of all your pelfe,
The other leaues you nought to helpe your selfe:
And yet the one for a little theeuing may,
At Tiburne make a hanging holyday;
Whilest the great Thiefe may with a golden prop
To faire Reuenues turne a Pedlers shop.
In this voracity Father stands not free
From his owne Sonne, nor from his vnckle, he
Being made Executor to'th Scates of men,
My Corm'rant is a piddler to him then.
He will by cunning and vexation draw,
Heire, wealth and All, into his rauenous maw,
And when his gorge is full vp to the brim,
Into some loathsome prison vomits him.
There leaues the honour of a house and name,
To be exchang'd for miserie and shame:
Now tell me they that loue faire truth indeed,
If such mawes doe not Corm'rants guts exceed.
And to what place soeuer such resort,
They are the Fowle Birds both in Towne and Court.
5
A Drunkard.
The Argvment.
A madnesse dearely bought with losse of fame,Of credit and of manly reputation:
A cursed purchase of disease and shame,
Of death, and a great hazard of Damnation:
Jn all that's bad, the diuel's onely Ape,
Worse then a beast, in the best manly shape.
This fellow with the dropsie growne as big,
And much more beastly then a Sow with pig,
His cheekes like Boreas swolne, he blow'd and puft,
His paunch like to a woolpack cram'd and stuft:
And by the meanes of what he swil'd and gul'd,
Hee look'd like one that was three quarters mul'd.
His breath compounded of strong English Beere,
And th'Indian drug would suffer none come neere.
From side to side he staggered as he went,
As if he reeling did the way indent.
One skirt of's cloake scarce reacht vnto his waste,
The other dragging in the dirt he trac'd.
His very braines within his head were stew'd,
And look'd so crimson colour'd scarlet hew'd,
As 'twere an Jgnis fatuus, or a comet.
His garments stunke most sweetly of his vomit.
Fac'd with the tap-lash of strong Ale and Wine,
Which from his slau'ring chaps doth oft decline,
In truth he look'd as red as any coale,
And bellied like vnto a mare with foale:
With hollow eyes, and with the palsie shaking,
And gouty legs with too much liquor taking.
This valiant pot-leach, that vpon his knees
Has drunke a thousand pottles vp se freese,
Such pickled phrases he had got in store,
As were vnknowne vnto the times of yore:
As when he drinkes out all the totall summe,
Gaue it the stile of supernagullum,
And when he quaffing doth his entrailes wash,
Tis call'd a bunch, a thrust, a whiffe, a flash:
And when carousing makes his wits to faile,
They say he hath a rattle at his taile,
And when his wits are in the wetting shrunke,
You may not say hee's drunke though he be drunke,
For though he be as drunke as any Rat,
He hath but catcht a Foxe, or whipt the Car.
Or some say hee's bewitcht, or scratcht, or blinde,
(Which are the fittest tearmes that I can finde.
Or seene the Lyons, or his nose is dirty,
Or hee's pot-shaken, or out, two and thirty.
And then strange languages comes in his head,
When he wants English how to goe to bed:
And though t'were fit the swine should in his ftye be,
He spewes out latine with prohibitibi.
Which is, prouide for Tiburne (as I take it)
Or if it be not, he may chance to make it.
Then Irish Shachatwhorum from him flees,
And halfe a dozen welch me Uatawhees:
Vntill hee falls asleepe he skinks and drinkes,
And then like to a Bore he winkes, and stinkes.
This Cormorant in one day swallowes more,
Then my poore Esacus doth in a score.
For mine but once a day doth take his fill,
The drunkard, night and day doth quaffe and swill,
Drinke was ordain'd to length mans fainting breath,
And from that liquor, Drunkards draw their death:
Displeasing God, the diuell he onely pleases,
And drinkes with others healths, his owne diseases.
And in the end, contempt and shame's his share,
The whil'st a Tapster is his onely Heire.
Thus drinke's a wrastler that giues many a fall,
To death, to beggery and slauish thrall.
And drunkennesse a wilfull madnesse is,
That throwes men to Hels bottomlesse abisse.
For why, where Drunkennesse is mistris there,
Sobriety can hardly maistry beare:
And 'tis no question but the Land hath drown'd,
More men with drinke, then Seas did e're confound.
Wine is Earth's bloud, which from her breast doth spring,
And (well vs'd) is a comfortable thing,
But if abused from it then beginnes,
Most horrible notorious crying sinnes.
As Murther, Lechery, Ebrietie,
Gods wrath, damnation in varietie:
For hee that is a Drunkard, is the summe,
And abstract of all mischiefes that can come.
It wasts him soule and body, life and limb.
My Cormorant's a sober beast to him.
He that perswades a man to steale or lye,
To sweare, or to commit adultery,
To stab or murther any man that liues,
Can it be said that hee good counsell giues?
And hee that tempts and forces men to drinke,
Perswades a man to damne himselfe, I thinke,
For drunken men haue into dangers run,
Which (being sober) they would ne're haue done.
I take them for no friends that giue me Wine,
To turne me from a man vnto a swine,
To make me void of manners, sense, or reason,
To abuse God, blaspheming odious treason,
To hurt my soule and body, fame and purse,
To get the diuell, and gaine Gods heauy curse.
Though many take such for their friends to bee,
I wish them hang'd that are such Friends to mee:
For greater enemies there cannot dwell
In the whole world, nor in the bounds of hell.
Good friendly drinking I account not euill,
But much carousing, which makes man a diuell,
Wanting the priuiledge that hath a horse,
And to be vrg'd and forc'd to drinke perforce.
For why a horse this gouernment hath still,
Drinkes what he will, and not against his will.
And he that that good rule doth ouer-passe,
Hath lesse discretion then a Horse or Asse,
And any man that doth this temp rance want,
Is a worse glutton then my Cormorant.
And much more beastly then a Sow with pig,
His cheekes like Boreas swolne, he blow'd and puft,
His paunch like to a woolpack cram'd and stuft:
And by the meanes of what he swil'd and gul'd,
Hee look'd like one that was three quarters mul'd.
His breath compounded of strong English Beere,
And th'Indian drug would suffer none come neere.
From side to side he staggered as he went,
As if he reeling did the way indent.
One skirt of's cloake scarce reacht vnto his waste,
The other dragging in the dirt he trac'd.
His very braines within his head were stew'd,
And look'd so crimson colour'd scarlet hew'd,
As 'twere an Jgnis fatuus, or a comet.
His garments stunke most sweetly of his vomit.
Fac'd with the tap-lash of strong Ale and Wine,
Which from his slau'ring chaps doth oft decline,
In truth he look'd as red as any coale,
And bellied like vnto a mare with foale:
With hollow eyes, and with the palsie shaking,
And gouty legs with too much liquor taking.
This valiant pot-leach, that vpon his knees
Has drunke a thousand pottles vp se freese,
Such pickled phrases he had got in store,
As were vnknowne vnto the times of yore:
As when he drinkes out all the totall summe,
Gaue it the stile of supernagullum,
And when he quaffing doth his entrailes wash,
Tis call'd a bunch, a thrust, a whiffe, a flash:
And when carousing makes his wits to faile,
They say he hath a rattle at his taile,
And when his wits are in the wetting shrunke,
You may not say hee's drunke though he be drunke,
For though he be as drunke as any Rat,
He hath but catcht a Foxe, or whipt the Car.
Or some say hee's bewitcht, or scratcht, or blinde,
(Which are the fittest tearmes that I can finde.
Or seene the Lyons, or his nose is dirty,
Or hee's pot-shaken, or out, two and thirty.
And then strange languages comes in his head,
When he wants English how to goe to bed:
And though t'were fit the swine should in his ftye be,
He spewes out latine with prohibitibi.
Which is, prouide for Tiburne (as I take it)
Or if it be not, he may chance to make it.
Then Irish Shachatwhorum from him flees,
And halfe a dozen welch me Uatawhees:
Vntill hee falls asleepe he skinks and drinkes,
And then like to a Bore he winkes, and stinkes.
This Cormorant in one day swallowes more,
Then my poore Esacus doth in a score.
For mine but once a day doth take his fill,
The drunkard, night and day doth quaffe and swill,
Drinke was ordain'd to length mans fainting breath,
And from that liquor, Drunkards draw their death:
Displeasing God, the diuell he onely pleases,
And drinkes with others healths, his owne diseases.
And in the end, contempt and shame's his share,
The whil'st a Tapster is his onely Heire.
Thus drinke's a wrastler that giues many a fall,
To death, to beggery and slauish thrall.
And drunkennesse a wilfull madnesse is,
That throwes men to Hels bottomlesse abisse.
For why, where Drunkennesse is mistris there,
Sobriety can hardly maistry beare:
And 'tis no question but the Land hath drown'd,
More men with drinke, then Seas did e're confound.
Wine is Earth's bloud, which from her breast doth spring,
And (well vs'd) is a comfortable thing,
But if abused from it then beginnes,
Most horrible notorious crying sinnes.
As Murther, Lechery, Ebrietie,
Gods wrath, damnation in varietie:
For hee that is a Drunkard, is the summe,
And abstract of all mischiefes that can come.
It wasts him soule and body, life and limb.
My Cormorant's a sober beast to him.
He that perswades a man to steale or lye,
To sweare, or to commit adultery,
To stab or murther any man that liues,
Can it be said that hee good counsell giues?
And hee that tempts and forces men to drinke,
Perswades a man to damne himselfe, I thinke,
For drunken men haue into dangers run,
Which (being sober) they would ne're haue done.
I take them for no friends that giue me Wine,
To turne me from a man vnto a swine,
To make me void of manners, sense, or reason,
To abuse God, blaspheming odious treason,
To hurt my soule and body, fame and purse,
To get the diuell, and gaine Gods heauy curse.
Though many take such for their friends to bee,
I wish them hang'd that are such Friends to mee:
For greater enemies there cannot dwell
In the whole world, nor in the bounds of hell.
Good friendly drinking I account not euill,
But much carousing, which makes man a diuell,
Wanting the priuiledge that hath a horse,
And to be vrg'd and forc'd to drinke perforce.
6
Drinkes what he will, and not against his will.
And he that that good rule doth ouer-passe,
Hath lesse discretion then a Horse or Asse,
And any man that doth this temp rance want,
Is a worse glutton then my Cormorant.
A prodigall Country Gallant, and his new made Maddam.
The Argvment.
Taylors fooles, Times bables, and prides Apes,That as a Squirrell ships from tree to tree:
So they like Porteus leape from shapes to shapes,
Like foule swords in gilt scabberds, he and she
Their carkasse pampers, gorgiously bedect,
Whil'st their poore starued soules they both neglect.
Now steps my young gull-gallant into play,
Who (born to land) i'th country scornes to stay,
To liue by wit (thankes Sire) he hath no need,
And if he should be hang'd can scarcely reade.
Drabs, dice, and drinke are all his onely ioyes,
His pockets, and his spurs his gingling boyes,
A Squirrels tayle hangs dangling at his eare,
A badge which many a gull is knowne to weare.
His eyes red-blood-shot, arguing a sod braine,
His dam-him voice set to the roaring straine:
His nose well inlaid with rich jemmes about,
As from a watch-Towre, their heads peeping out,
Attended fitly, (fitting for the age)
With two shagg'd Russians and a pyde-coat Page,
Who beares his boxe, and his Tobacco fils,
With stopper, tongs, and other vtensils.
This Fop, late buried er'e he came vp hither,
His thrift and 's Father in one graue together,
His Country stocke he sold, for that's the fashion,
And to a Farmer gaue it new translation:
His Fathers seruants he thrust out of doore,
Allowes his mother but a pension poore:
Salutes you with an oath at euery word,
Sirha or slaue he liberall doth affoord.
His Father (a good house-keeper) being dead,
He scornes his honest blocke should fit his head:
And though he be not skill'd in Magick Art,
Yet to a Coach he turn'd his Fathers Cart,
Foure Teames of Horses, to foure Flanders Mares,
With which to London he in pomp repaires,
Woo's a she Gallant, and to Wife he takes her:
Then buyes a knighthood, and a maddam makes her.
And yearely they vpon their backes oreweare,
That which oft fed fiue hundred with good cheere.
Whil'st in the Country all good bounty's spilt
His house, as if a Iugler it had built,
For all the Chimneyes where great fires were made,
The smoake at one hole onely is conuey'd:
No times obseru'd nor charitable Lawes,
The poore receiue their answer from the Dawes,
Who in their caying language call it plaine
Mockbegger Manour, for they came in vaine.
They that deuoure what Charitie should giue
Are both at London, there the Cormorants liue,
But so transform'd of late doe what you oan,
You'l hardly know the woman from the man:
There Sir Tim Twirlepipe and his Lady gay,
Doe prodigally spend the time away;
Being both exceeding proud, and scornefull too,
And any thing but what is good they'l doe.
For Incubus and Succubus haue got
A crew of fiends which the old world knew not;
That if our Grand-fathers and Grand-dams should
Rise from the dead, and these mad times behold.
Amazed they halfe madly would admire,
At our fantasticke gestures and attire;
And they would thinke that England in conclusion,
Were a meere bable Babell of confusion.
That Muld-sack for his most vnfashion'd fashions,
Is the fit patterne of their transformations:
And Mary Frith doth teach them modesty,
For she doth keepe one fashion constantly,
And therefore she deserues a Matrons praise,
In these inconstant Moone-like changing dayes.
A witlesse Asse (to please his wiues desire)
Payes for the fewell, for her prides hot fire:
And he and she will wast, consume, and spoyle,
To feed the stinking lamp of pride with oyle:
When with a sword, he gat a knightly name,
With the same blow, his Lady was strucke lame.
For if you marke it she no ground doth tread,
(Since the blow fell) except that she be led:
And Charity is since that time (some say)
In a Carts younger brother borne away.
These are the Cormorants that haue the power
To swallow a Realme, and last themselues deuoure:
And let their gaudy friends thinke what they will,
My Cormorant shall be their better still.
Who (born to land) i'th country scornes to stay,
To liue by wit (thankes Sire) he hath no need,
And if he should be hang'd can scarcely reade.
Drabs, dice, and drinke are all his onely ioyes,
His pockets, and his spurs his gingling boyes,
A Squirrels tayle hangs dangling at his eare,
A badge which many a gull is knowne to weare.
His eyes red-blood-shot, arguing a sod braine,
His dam-him voice set to the roaring straine:
His nose well inlaid with rich jemmes about,
As from a watch-Towre, their heads peeping out,
Attended fitly, (fitting for the age)
With two shagg'd Russians and a pyde-coat Page,
Who beares his boxe, and his Tobacco fils,
With stopper, tongs, and other vtensils.
This Fop, late buried er'e he came vp hither,
His thrift and 's Father in one graue together,
His Country stocke he sold, for that's the fashion,
And to a Farmer gaue it new translation:
His Fathers seruants he thrust out of doore,
Allowes his mother but a pension poore:
Salutes you with an oath at euery word,
Sirha or slaue he liberall doth affoord.
His Father (a good house-keeper) being dead,
He scornes his honest blocke should fit his head:
And though he be not skill'd in Magick Art,
Yet to a Coach he turn'd his Fathers Cart,
Foure Teames of Horses, to foure Flanders Mares,
With which to London he in pomp repaires,
Woo's a she Gallant, and to Wife he takes her:
Then buyes a knighthood, and a maddam makes her.
And yearely they vpon their backes oreweare,
That which oft fed fiue hundred with good cheere.
Whil'st in the Country all good bounty's spilt
His house, as if a Iugler it had built,
For all the Chimneyes where great fires were made,
The smoake at one hole onely is conuey'd:
No times obseru'd nor charitable Lawes,
The poore receiue their answer from the Dawes,
Who in their caying language call it plaine
Mockbegger Manour, for they came in vaine.
They that deuoure what Charitie should giue
Are both at London, there the Cormorants liue,
But so transform'd of late doe what you oan,
You'l hardly know the woman from the man:
There Sir Tim Twirlepipe and his Lady gay,
Doe prodigally spend the time away;
Being both exceeding proud, and scornefull too,
And any thing but what is good they'l doe.
For Incubus and Succubus haue got
A crew of fiends which the old world knew not;
That if our Grand-fathers and Grand-dams should
Rise from the dead, and these mad times behold.
Amazed they halfe madly would admire,
At our fantasticke gestures and attire;
And they would thinke that England in conclusion,
Were a meere bable Babell of confusion.
That Muld-sack for his most vnfashion'd fashions,
Is the fit patterne of their transformations:
And Mary Frith doth teach them modesty,
For she doth keepe one fashion constantly,
And therefore she deserues a Matrons praise,
In these inconstant Moone-like changing dayes.
A witlesse Asse (to please his wiues desire)
Payes for the fewell, for her prides hot fire:
And he and she will wast, consume, and spoyle,
To feed the stinking lamp of pride with oyle:
When with a sword, he gat a knightly name,
With the same blow, his Lady was strucke lame.
For if you marke it she no ground doth tread,
(Since the blow fell) except that she be led:
And Charity is since that time (some say)
In a Carts younger brother borne away.
These are the Cormorants that haue the power
To swallow a Realme, and last themselues deuoure:
And let their gaudy friends thinke what they will,
My Cormorant shall be their better still.
An Extortioner and a Broaker.
The Argvment.
Friends to but few, and to their owne soules worst,With Aspish poyson poysoning men at first,
Who laughing languish, neuer thinke on death,
Untill these Wolues (with biting) stop their breath;
The diuell and they at no time can be sunder'd,
And all their trade is forty in the hundred.
Roome for two hounds well coupl'd, & 'tis pitty
To part them they do keep such ranck i'th City,
Th'Extortioner is such a fiend that he
Doth make the Vsurer a Saint to be,
One for a hundreds vse doth take but ten,
Th'other for ten a hundred takes agen:
The one mongst Christians is well tollerated,
Tother's of heauen and earth abhorr'd and hated,
The one doth often helpe a man distrest,
The other addes oppression to th'opprest.
By paying vse a man may thriue and get,
But by extortion neuer none could yet.
Though vsury be bad, ('tis vnderstood,
Compared with extortion) it seemes good.
One by retaile, and th'other by the great,
Ingrose the profits of the whole worlds sweat,
That man is happy that hath meat and cloth,
And stands in need of neither of them both.
Extortioners are Monsters in all Nations,
All their Conditions turne to Obligations,
Waxe is their shot, and writing pens their Guns,
Their powder is the Inke that from them runs.
And this dank powder hath blowne vp more men
In one yeare, then gun powder hath in ten.
Bils are their weapons, parchments are their shields,
With wch they win whole Lordships, towns & fields
And for they know in heauen they ne're shall dwell,
They ingrose the earth before they come to hell,
Yet all their liues here they with cares are vext,
Slaues in this world, and Hell-hounds in the next.
And what they o're the diuels backe did win,
Their heyres beneath his belly wast in sinne.
The Broaker is the better senting Hound,
He hunts and scouts till he his prey hath found,
The gallant which I mention'd late before,
Turning old. Hospitality out of doore,
And hauing swallowed Tenants and their crops,
Comming to towne, he crams Extortions chops:
Craft there, may here againe be set to Schoole,
A Country Knaue oft prooues a City Foole.
He that a Dogs part playes when he is there.
A Wolfe deuoures him when he comes vp here:
The silly swaine the racking Landlord worries,
But swaine and Landlord both extortion curries.
First thing is done, the Broaker smels him forth,
Hunts all his haunts, enquires into his worth:
Sents out his present wants, and then applies,
Rank poyson to his wounds for remedies.
In stead of licking, hee's a biting whelpe,
And rancles most, when he most seemes to helpe,
And he hunts dry foot; neuer spends his throat
Till he has caught his game, and then his note
Luls him asleepe fast in Extortions bands
There leaues him, takes his fee o'th goods and lands.
And as he is the Common-wealths deceiuer,
So for the most part, hee's the theeues receiuer.
Hangs vp the hangmans wardrop at his doore,
Which by the hang-man hath beene hang'd before.
A fish-wise, with a pawne, doth money seeke,
Hee two pence takes for twelue pence euery weeke:
Which makes me aske my selfe a question plaine,
And to my selfe I answer make againe:
Was Houndsditch Houndsditch call'd can any tell,
Before the Breakers in that street did dwell?
No sure it was not, it hath got that name
From them, and since that time they thither came:
And well it now may called be Houndsditch,
For there are Hounds will giue a vengeance twich.
These are the Gulphes, that swallow all by lending,
Like my old shooes, quite past all hope of mending:
I'de throw my Cormorants dead into the pooles,
If they cramm'd fish so fast as these eate fooles.
To part them they do keep such ranck i'th City,
7
Doth make the Vsurer a Saint to be,
One for a hundreds vse doth take but ten,
Th'other for ten a hundred takes agen:
The one mongst Christians is well tollerated,
Tother's of heauen and earth abhorr'd and hated,
The one doth often helpe a man distrest,
The other addes oppression to th'opprest.
By paying vse a man may thriue and get,
But by extortion neuer none could yet.
Though vsury be bad, ('tis vnderstood,
Compared with extortion) it seemes good.
One by retaile, and th'other by the great,
Ingrose the profits of the whole worlds sweat,
That man is happy that hath meat and cloth,
And stands in need of neither of them both.
Extortioners are Monsters in all Nations,
All their Conditions turne to Obligations,
Waxe is their shot, and writing pens their Guns,
Their powder is the Inke that from them runs.
And this dank powder hath blowne vp more men
In one yeare, then gun powder hath in ten.
Bils are their weapons, parchments are their shields,
With wch they win whole Lordships, towns & fields
And for they know in heauen they ne're shall dwell,
They ingrose the earth before they come to hell,
Yet all their liues here they with cares are vext,
Slaues in this world, and Hell-hounds in the next.
And what they o're the diuels backe did win,
Their heyres beneath his belly wast in sinne.
The Broaker is the better senting Hound,
He hunts and scouts till he his prey hath found,
The gallant which I mention'd late before,
Turning old. Hospitality out of doore,
And hauing swallowed Tenants and their crops,
Comming to towne, he crams Extortions chops:
Craft there, may here againe be set to Schoole,
A Country Knaue oft prooues a City Foole.
He that a Dogs part playes when he is there.
A Wolfe deuoures him when he comes vp here:
The silly swaine the racking Landlord worries,
But swaine and Landlord both extortion curries.
First thing is done, the Broaker smels him forth,
Hunts all his haunts, enquires into his worth:
Sents out his present wants, and then applies,
Rank poyson to his wounds for remedies.
In stead of licking, hee's a biting whelpe,
And rancles most, when he most seemes to helpe,
And he hunts dry foot; neuer spends his throat
Till he has caught his game, and then his note
Luls him asleepe fast in Extortions bands
There leaues him, takes his fee o'th goods and lands.
And as he is the Common-wealths deceiuer,
So for the most part, hee's the theeues receiuer.
Hangs vp the hangmans wardrop at his doore,
Which by the hang-man hath beene hang'd before.
A fish-wise, with a pawne, doth money seeke,
Hee two pence takes for twelue pence euery weeke:
Which makes me aske my selfe a question plaine,
And to my selfe I answer make againe:
Was Houndsditch Houndsditch call'd can any tell,
Before the Breakers in that street did dwell?
No sure it was not, it hath got that name
From them, and since that time they thither came:
And well it now may called be Houndsditch,
For there are Hounds will giue a vengeance twich.
These are the Gulphes, that swallow all by lending,
Like my old shooes, quite past all hope of mending:
I'de throw my Cormorants dead into the pooles,
If they cramm'd fish so fast as these eate fooles.
A Basket-Iustice.
The Argvment.
The best of men, when truely exercis'd,The actor may a Saint be canoniz'd:
Not Policy, but practise, Justice frames,
Those whom bribes blinde, haue onely thred-bare names
Of what they should be, thus the Land is blest,
When judgements just flow from the Judges brest.
Before the noyse of these two Hounds did cease,
A Iustice (comming by) commanded peace:
Peace Curres (qd. he) and learne to take your prey
And not a word, so wise folkes goe your way:
This is a youth that sued his place to haue,
Bought his authority to play the knaue.
And as for coine he did his place obtaine,
So hee'l sell Iustice to mak't vp againe,
For the old prouerbe fits his humor well,
That he that dearely buyes must dearely fell.
The sword of Iustice draw he stoutly can,
To guard a knaue, and grieue an honest man,
His Clarke's the Bee that fils his combe with honey,
He hath the wit, his master hath the money.
Such Iusticer as this (if men doe marke)
Is altogether guided by his Clarke,
He's the vice Iustice, he workes all by's wits,
The whil'st his master pickes his teeth or spits,
Walks, hums, and nods, cals knaue at euery turne,
(As if he in a dawes nest had beene borne:)
No other language from his worship flees,
But Prisons, Warrants, Mittimus, and Fees:
Commit before he search out the offence,
And heare the matter after two dayes hence,
Talkes of Recognizances, and hath scope,
To binde and loose as if he were the Pope.
Be the case ne're so good, yet build vpon't.
Fees must be payd, for that's the humor on't.
And thus with onely cursed wealth and beard,
He makes a world of witlesse fooles afeard.
And when he giues them but a smile or nod,
They thinke this doughty else a demy-god.
When fortune fals he knowes to vse the same,
His Clarke and he as quiet as a Lambe,
Make not two words, but share, & go through stich,
Here's mine, there's thine, for they know which is which,
There hath beene, are, and will be still agen,
In all professions some corrupted men:
Before this branch of false Gebezaes Tribe,
'Tis sacriledge to call a bribe a bribe,
Giue him a Bucke, a Pig, a Goose, or Phesant,
(For manners sake) it must be call'd a present,
And when hee's blind in Iustice, 'tis a doubt
But Turkies tallons scratcht his eyes halfe out,
Or Capons clawes, but 'tis a heauy case,
That fowles should flye so in a Iustice face.
Sometimes his eyes are goard with an Oxe horne,
Or suddaine dasht out with a sacke of corne,
Or the whiske brushing of a Coachmares taile
To fit the Coach, but all these thoughts may faile,
Some thinke they are but clouded and will shine,
Eclips'd a little with a Teirce of Wine,
Or onely falne into some hoodwink'd nap,
As some men may vpon the Bench, by hap.
But Iustice seemes deafe when some tales are told,
Perhaps his Charity hath tane some cold,
And that may be the cause, or rattling Coaching,
Or neighing of horses to her gate approaching,
From thence into the stable, as her owne:
The certaine truth thereof is not yet knowne.
But sure she is so deafe that she can heare,
Nothing but what her Clarke blowes in her eare,
Which Clark, good men must croach to, & stand bare
Or else small Iustice 'mongst them they shall share.
His Master like a weather-cocke inclinde,
As he doth please he makes him turne and winde.
This Iustice of all sences is bereft,
Except his feeling, onely feelings left:
With which he swallowes with insatiate power,
More bribes then doth my Cormorant fish deuoure.
A Iustice (comming by) commanded peace:
Peace Curres (qd. he) and learne to take your prey
And not a word, so wise folkes goe your way:
This is a youth that sued his place to haue,
Bought his authority to play the knaue.
And as for coine he did his place obtaine,
So hee'l sell Iustice to mak't vp againe,
For the old prouerbe fits his humor well,
That he that dearely buyes must dearely fell.
The sword of Iustice draw he stoutly can,
To guard a knaue, and grieue an honest man,
His Clarke's the Bee that fils his combe with honey,
He hath the wit, his master hath the money.
Such Iusticer as this (if men doe marke)
Is altogether guided by his Clarke,
He's the vice Iustice, he workes all by's wits,
The whil'st his master pickes his teeth or spits,
Walks, hums, and nods, cals knaue at euery turne,
(As if he in a dawes nest had beene borne:)
No other language from his worship flees,
But Prisons, Warrants, Mittimus, and Fees:
Commit before he search out the offence,
And heare the matter after two dayes hence,
Talkes of Recognizances, and hath scope,
To binde and loose as if he were the Pope.
Be the case ne're so good, yet build vpon't.
Fees must be payd, for that's the humor on't.
8
He makes a world of witlesse fooles afeard.
And when he giues them but a smile or nod,
They thinke this doughty else a demy-god.
When fortune fals he knowes to vse the same,
His Clarke and he as quiet as a Lambe,
Make not two words, but share, & go through stich,
Here's mine, there's thine, for they know which is which,
There hath beene, are, and will be still agen,
In all professions some corrupted men:
Before this branch of false Gebezaes Tribe,
'Tis sacriledge to call a bribe a bribe,
Giue him a Bucke, a Pig, a Goose, or Phesant,
(For manners sake) it must be call'd a present,
And when hee's blind in Iustice, 'tis a doubt
But Turkies tallons scratcht his eyes halfe out,
Or Capons clawes, but 'tis a heauy case,
That fowles should flye so in a Iustice face.
Sometimes his eyes are goard with an Oxe horne,
Or suddaine dasht out with a sacke of corne,
Or the whiske brushing of a Coachmares taile
To fit the Coach, but all these thoughts may faile,
Some thinke they are but clouded and will shine,
Eclips'd a little with a Teirce of Wine,
Or onely falne into some hoodwink'd nap,
As some men may vpon the Bench, by hap.
But Iustice seemes deafe when some tales are told,
Perhaps his Charity hath tane some cold,
And that may be the cause, or rattling Coaching,
Or neighing of horses to her gate approaching,
From thence into the stable, as her owne:
The certaine truth thereof is not yet knowne.
But sure she is so deafe that she can heare,
Nothing but what her Clarke blowes in her eare,
Which Clark, good men must croach to, & stand bare
Or else small Iustice 'mongst them they shall share.
His Master like a weather-cocke inclinde,
As he doth please he makes him turne and winde.
This Iustice of all sences is bereft,
Except his feeling, onely feelings left:
With which he swallowes with insatiate power,
More bribes then doth my Cormorant fish deuoure.
A Cutpurse.
The Argvment.
This is a mad knaue, liues by trickes and sleights.He diues by Land, and dies within the ayre:
He serues no man, yet courteously he waites
On whom he list, in Church, towne, throng or faire.
He will not worke, yet is well cloath'd and fed.
And for his farewell seldome dies in's bed.
This Spirit, or this Ferrit next that enters
(Although he be no Merchant) much he ventures.
And though he be a noted coward, yet
Most valiantly he doth his liuing get.
He hath no weapon but a curtoll knife.
Wherewith for what he hath he hazards life.
East Indian Merchants crosse the raging Floods,
And in their ventering, venter but their goods:
When as themselues at hope securely sleepe,
And neuer plow the dangerous Ocean deepe,
If they doe lose by Pirates, tempests, rocks,
'Tis but a Fleabite to their wealthy stockes:
Whilst the poore Curpurse day and night doth toile,
Watches and wardes, and doth himselfe turmoile:
Oft cuts a purse before the Sessions barre,
Whilst others for their liues a pleading are,
To Sturbridge Faire, or vnto Bristoll ambles
In ieopardie he for his liuing rambles,
And what he gets he doth not beg or borrow,
Ventures his necke, and there's an end, hang sorrow.
Whilst midst his perils he doth drinke and sing,
And hath more purse-bearers then any King,
Liues like a Gentleman by sleight of hand,
Can play the Foist, the Nip, the Stale, the Stand.
The Snap, the Curb, the Crosbite, Warpe and Lift,
Decoy, prig, Cheat, (all for a hanging shift.)
Still valiant where he comes, and free from care,
And dares the stockes, the Whip, the Jaile out-dare.
Speakes the braue canting tongue, lyes with his dell,
Or pad, or doxi, or his bonny Nell,
And liues as merry as the day is long,
In scorne of Tyburne, or the ropes dingdong,
But now a iest or two to minde I call,
Which to this function lately did befall:
A Cutpurse standing in a market-towne,
As for his prey his eyes scowld vp and downe,
At last he shoulders neare a Country Lasse,
And cut her purse as by her he did passe.
Shee spide and caught him, and began to raue,
Call'd him rogue, rascall, villeyne, thiefe and slaue.
Gep with a pox, the Cutpurse then replide,
Are you so fine, you can no iesting bide,
I'ue iested more with forty honest men,
So with a moraine take your purse agen.
Another sattin Cutpurse dawbd with lace,
A Country Gentleman for's purse did chase,
On whom a blew-coat Seruingman did wait,
And passing through a narrow obscure strait,
The thieuing knaue the purse he nimbly nims,
And like a land-sharke thence by Land he swims.
The Seruingman perceiu'd the Cutpurse tricke,
Said nought, but dogges him through thin and thick,
Vntill the thiefe suppos'd the coast was cleare,
As he was pissing Blew-coat cut off's eare.
The Cutpurse madly gins to sweare and curse,
The other said, giue me my Masters purse,
Which you stole lately from his pocket, then
There's no wrong done, but here's your eare agen
Thus though a Cutpurse trade be counted ill,
I say he is a man of action still,
Waites on Ambassadors that comes and goes,
Attends at Tiltings and tryumphant showes
At Westminster he still attendance giues,
On my Lord Maior, his brethren and the Shrieues,
Although vnbidden, yet hee'l be a guest,
And haue his hand in sometimes with the best.
And whil'st he liues, note how he takes degree,
Newgate's his hall, at Tyburne he's made free:
Where commonly it so falls out with him,
He dyes in perfect health, sound winde and limbe,
He in a Coaches elder brother rides,
And when his soule and cordes from each diuides,
He foules no sheets nor any Physicke takes,
But like a Bird inth'ayre an end he makes:
And such an end I wish they all may haue,
And all that loue a shifting Cutpurse knaue,
For they are Cormorants wheresoere they haunt,
Vntill the Gallowes proues their Cormorant.
(Although he be no Merchant) much he ventures.
And though he be a noted coward, yet
Most valiantly he doth his liuing get.
He hath no weapon but a curtoll knife.
Wherewith for what he hath he hazards life.
East Indian Merchants crosse the raging Floods,
And in their ventering, venter but their goods:
When as themselues at hope securely sleepe,
And neuer plow the dangerous Ocean deepe,
If they doe lose by Pirates, tempests, rocks,
'Tis but a Fleabite to their wealthy stockes:
Whilst the poore Curpurse day and night doth toile,
Watches and wardes, and doth himselfe turmoile:
Oft cuts a purse before the Sessions barre,
Whilst others for their liues a pleading are,
To Sturbridge Faire, or vnto Bristoll ambles
In ieopardie he for his liuing rambles,
And what he gets he doth not beg or borrow,
Ventures his necke, and there's an end, hang sorrow.
Whilst midst his perils he doth drinke and sing,
And hath more purse-bearers then any King,
Liues like a Gentleman by sleight of hand,
Can play the Foist, the Nip, the Stale, the Stand.
The Snap, the Curb, the Crosbite, Warpe and Lift,
Decoy, prig, Cheat, (all for a hanging shift.)
Still valiant where he comes, and free from care,
And dares the stockes, the Whip, the Jaile out-dare.
Speakes the braue canting tongue, lyes with his dell,
Or pad, or doxi, or his bonny Nell,
And liues as merry as the day is long,
In scorne of Tyburne, or the ropes dingdong,
But now a iest or two to minde I call,
Which to this function lately did befall:
A Cutpurse standing in a market-towne,
As for his prey his eyes scowld vp and downe,
At last he shoulders neare a Country Lasse,
And cut her purse as by her he did passe.
Shee spide and caught him, and began to raue,
Call'd him rogue, rascall, villeyne, thiefe and slaue.
Gep with a pox, the Cutpurse then replide,
Are you so fine, you can no iesting bide,
I'ue iested more with forty honest men,
So with a moraine take your purse agen.
Another sattin Cutpurse dawbd with lace,
A Country Gentleman for's purse did chase,
On whom a blew-coat Seruingman did wait,
And passing through a narrow obscure strait,
The thieuing knaue the purse he nimbly nims,
And like a land-sharke thence by Land he swims.
The Seruingman perceiu'd the Cutpurse tricke,
Said nought, but dogges him through thin and thick,
Vntill the thiefe suppos'd the coast was cleare,
As he was pissing Blew-coat cut off's eare.
The Cutpurse madly gins to sweare and curse,
The other said, giue me my Masters purse,
Which you stole lately from his pocket, then
There's no wrong done, but here's your eare agen
4
I say he is a man of action still,
Waites on Ambassadors that comes and goes,
Attends at Tiltings and tryumphant showes
At Westminster he still attendance giues,
On my Lord Maior, his brethren and the Shrieues,
Although vnbidden, yet hee'l be a guest,
And haue his hand in sometimes with the best.
And whil'st he liues, note how he takes degree,
Newgate's his hall, at Tyburne he's made free:
Where commonly it so falls out with him,
He dyes in perfect health, sound winde and limbe,
He in a Coaches elder brother rides,
And when his soule and cordes from each diuides,
He foules no sheets nor any Physicke takes,
But like a Bird inth'ayre an end he makes:
And such an end I wish they all may haue,
And all that loue a shifting Cutpurse knaue,
For they are Cormorants wheresoere they haunt,
Vntill the Gallowes proues their Cormorant.
A Good and a bad Constable.
The Argvment.
This man is to the Magistrate an eye,Reuealing things which Iustice could not finde.
Blacke deeds of darkenesse he doth oft descry,
And is (if he be honestly inclinde)
So fit the Common-wealth in peace to keepe,
By watching carefully whil'st thousands sleepe.
VVhē
Titan steeps his bright resplēdant beams
And hides his burning Car i'th Westerne streams;
Whē to ye vnder world day takes his slight
And leaues th'Horizon all in darknesse dight,
When Philomell doth 'gainst a thorne proclaime
In dulcet notes the lustfull Tereus shame,
When Maddam Midnight shewes her Ebon face,
And darkenesse doth the Hemisphere embrace,
Then (to keepe all things peaceable and well,
The watchfull Constable keepes centinell.
Then if a man (with drinke) his wit hath left,
Oh hath committed leachery or theft,
Or murder, then the Constable thinkes fit
That such committers straitly he commit.
Hee's Lord high Regent of the tedious night,
Man of the Moone he may be called right:
Great generall of Glowormes, Owles, and Bats,
Comptroler ouer such a whip the Cats.
Dianaes Forrester that with regard,
Doth guard the Heard that liues within his ward,
His vigilancy is most manifest,
For through his hornes he lightens all the rest.
Like Minos, or iust iudging Rhadamant,
He walkes the darkesome streets of Troynouant,
Attended with his Goblins clad in Rugs,
Like Russian Beares, or Phlegetonian bugs,
Vntill Aurora shewes her blushing brow,
And Lucifer doth shine, and cocks do crow,
Madge howlet whooting hides her fearefull head,
Then goes the Constable and's watch to bed.
This officer in the first place I put,
He that comes next is of another cut.
Yet he's a member of the peace comes next,
And writ most commonly an asse in Text:
Image of office he is held to be
And has his staffe tipt with authority,
He has his bill-men which can hardly keepe
The name of watchmen for they're still asleepe.
His word is, Who goes there? Where doe you dwell?
Stand still, and come before the Constable,
Js this an houre: carry him to the Compter, goe:
Sayes a man's drunke, when his owne case is so,
But let a quar'ling slaue indeed goe by.
Leading by th'arme his rampant venery,
A thing of filthy surfet, like a swine,
That scarce can goe laden with pox and wine,
They for their sixpence shall passe by in state,
The porter with a leg will ope the gate,
Worship'd and guarded to their lodging safe,
Not with Bils onely, but th'officious staffe,
Whil'st the good sober man, that nothing gaue,
Is strait committed for a dangerous knaue,
Traytor to th'State, and in the I ayle must lye,
Whil'st th'other's lighted to their lechery,
This Constable may haue a trick in store,
His house may be safe harbour for a whore,
Because no man will offer to search there.
She there may rest, and roost secure from feare.
There she may lodge, and trade too if she will,
As sure and safe as theeues are in a Mill,
Or Suburbs for the birth of Bastards are,
For all desire to lay their bellies there.
Nay as a Compter for a Fellon's home,
Or Ladies chamber for a Priest from Rome.
But yet I say, 'tis not a matter hard,
To finde an honest Constable in's ward,
Trust forbid else, and waking watchmen to,
Whose bils were neuer stolne, and much adoe
To be corrupted with a villaines shilling,
To wrong the good, and bad mens minds fulfilling.
Such men as those I thinke some few there be,
And for the rest, would they were hang'd for me.
He when my Corm'rant is at rest, and thinkes,
Poore fish no harme, nor ought that water drinkes,
That's a night Corm'rant, and at midnight swils,
Whole cans and pots, with Cheaters and their Iils,
He makes all fish that comes into his net,
Drinks drunke, and sleeps, and then the watch is set.
And hides his burning Car i'th Westerne streams;
Whē to ye vnder world day takes his slight
And leaues th'Horizon all in darknesse dight,
When Philomell doth 'gainst a thorne proclaime
In dulcet notes the lustfull Tereus shame,
When Maddam Midnight shewes her Ebon face,
And darkenesse doth the Hemisphere embrace,
Then (to keepe all things peaceable and well,
The watchfull Constable keepes centinell.
Then if a man (with drinke) his wit hath left,
Oh hath committed leachery or theft,
Or murder, then the Constable thinkes fit
That such committers straitly he commit.
Hee's Lord high Regent of the tedious night,
Man of the Moone he may be called right:
Great generall of Glowormes, Owles, and Bats,
Comptroler ouer such a whip the Cats.
Dianaes Forrester that with regard,
Doth guard the Heard that liues within his ward,
His vigilancy is most manifest,
For through his hornes he lightens all the rest.
Like Minos, or iust iudging Rhadamant,
He walkes the darkesome streets of Troynouant,
Attended with his Goblins clad in Rugs,
Like Russian Beares, or Phlegetonian bugs,
Vntill Aurora shewes her blushing brow,
And Lucifer doth shine, and cocks do crow,
Madge howlet whooting hides her fearefull head,
Then goes the Constable and's watch to bed.
This officer in the first place I put,
He that comes next is of another cut.
Yet he's a member of the peace comes next,
And writ most commonly an asse in Text:
Image of office he is held to be
And has his staffe tipt with authority,
He has his bill-men which can hardly keepe
The name of watchmen for they're still asleepe.
His word is, Who goes there? Where doe you dwell?
Stand still, and come before the Constable,
Js this an houre: carry him to the Compter, goe:
Sayes a man's drunke, when his owne case is so,
But let a quar'ling slaue indeed goe by.
Leading by th'arme his rampant venery,
A thing of filthy surfet, like a swine,
That scarce can goe laden with pox and wine,
They for their sixpence shall passe by in state,
The porter with a leg will ope the gate,
Worship'd and guarded to their lodging safe,
Not with Bils onely, but th'officious staffe,
Whil'st the good sober man, that nothing gaue,
Is strait committed for a dangerous knaue,
Traytor to th'State, and in the I ayle must lye,
Whil'st th'other's lighted to their lechery,
This Constable may haue a trick in store,
His house may be safe harbour for a whore,
Because no man will offer to search there.
She there may rest, and roost secure from feare.
There she may lodge, and trade too if she will,
As sure and safe as theeues are in a Mill,
Or Suburbs for the birth of Bastards are,
For all desire to lay their bellies there.
Nay as a Compter for a Fellon's home,
Or Ladies chamber for a Priest from Rome.
But yet I say, 'tis not a matter hard,
To finde an honest Constable in's ward,
Trust forbid else, and waking watchmen to,
Whose bils were neuer stolne, and much adoe
To be corrupted with a villaines shilling,
To wrong the good, and bad mens minds fulfilling.
Such men as those I thinke some few there be,
And for the rest, would they were hang'd for me.
He when my Corm'rant is at rest, and thinkes,
Poore fish no harme, nor ought that water drinkes,
That's a night Corm'rant, and at midnight swils,
Whole cans and pots, with Cheaters and their Iils,
He makes all fish that comes into his net,
Drinks drunke, and sleeps, and then the watch is set.
10
A London Serieant and Jaylor.
The Argvment.
A brace of Hell hounds that on earth doe dwell,That tyrannize on poore mens bodies more.
(If more they could, then diuels o're soules in hell:
Whose musicke is the groanings of the poore.
These when they buy their office, sell their soules,
No Cormorants are such deuouring fowles.
The
Serieant I before the Jaylor name.
Because he is the dog that hunts the game:
He worries it, and brings it to the toyle,
And then the Jaylor liues vpon the spoyle.
I'ue knowne a Serieant that foure houres hath sate,
Peeping and leering through a tauerne grate,
His Yeoman on the other side the way,
Keeping the like watch both for one poore prey:
Whō when they spide, like Mastiffs they come neere him
And by the throat like cruell curs they teare him;
If he hath money to the Tauerne straight,
These sucking purse-leaches will on him wait;
But if his stocke below, and's pockets dry,
To th'Iayle with him, there let him starue and dye.
Yet for all this a Serieant is deuout.
For he doth Watch and prey much out of doubt.
He sels no spice, and yet in euery place
He's halfe a Grocer, for he liues by's mace:
He's part a Gentleman, for vp and downe,
Their steps he followes round about the towne.
And yet he seemes a Iugler too by this,
He oft from shape to shape so changed is:
As sometimes like an Amsterdammian brother,
Sometimes a Porters shape, sometimes another.
Sometimes t'a Counsellour at law, and then,
T'a lame and blinded begger, and agen
T'a Country Seruingman that brings a Deere,
And with these trickes his prey he doth come neere,
Wherein he imitates the Diuell aright,
Who can put on an Angels shape of light,
That so his craft may on mens soules preuaile.
So Serieants snare mens bodies for the Iaile,
Time was, he wore a proper kind of coat,
And in his hand a white rod as a note
Whereby a man farre off a knaue might spy,
And shun him if he were in jeopardy.
But now to no such habit he is bound,
Because his place ne're cost him eight score pound,
To get the which againe, he must disguise
And vse a thousand shifts and villanies.
Oh that a man so little grace should haue
To giue so much to be esteem'd a knaue.
To be shau'd. duck'd, and vnpittyed dye,
Curst and contemn'd within his graue to lye.
To hazard soule and body, ne're to thriue,
But by mens harmes, deuouring them aliue.
To be the hang-mans guard, and wait vpon
The Gallowes at an Execution,
But yet the office is most fit to fee,
And fit that honest men should haue it free.
Because he is the dog that hunts the game:
He worries it, and brings it to the toyle,
And then the Jaylor liues vpon the spoyle.
I'ue knowne a Serieant that foure houres hath sate,
Peeping and leering through a tauerne grate,
His Yeoman on the other side the way,
Keeping the like watch both for one poore prey:
Whō when they spide, like Mastiffs they come neere him
And by the throat like cruell curs they teare him;
If he hath money to the Tauerne straight,
These sucking purse-leaches will on him wait;
But if his stocke below, and's pockets dry,
To th'Iayle with him, there let him starue and dye.
Yet for all this a Serieant is deuout.
For he doth Watch and prey much out of doubt.
He sels no spice, and yet in euery place
He's halfe a Grocer, for he liues by's mace:
He's part a Gentleman, for vp and downe,
Their steps he followes round about the towne.
And yet he seemes a Iugler too by this,
He oft from shape to shape so changed is:
As sometimes like an Amsterdammian brother,
Sometimes a Porters shape, sometimes another.
Sometimes t'a Counsellour at law, and then,
T'a lame and blinded begger, and agen
T'a Country Seruingman that brings a Deere,
And with these trickes his prey he doth come neere,
Wherein he imitates the Diuell aright,
Who can put on an Angels shape of light,
That so his craft may on mens soules preuaile.
So Serieants snare mens bodies for the Iaile,
Time was, he wore a proper kind of coat,
And in his hand a white rod as a note
Whereby a man farre off a knaue might spy,
And shun him if he were in jeopardy.
But now to no such habit he is bound,
Because his place ne're cost him eight score pound,
To get the which againe, he must disguise
And vse a thousand shifts and villanies.
Oh that a man so little grace should haue
To giue so much to be esteem'd a knaue.
To be shau'd. duck'd, and vnpittyed dye,
Curst and contemn'd within his graue to lye.
To hazard soule and body, ne're to thriue,
But by mens harmes, deuouring them aliue.
To be the hang-mans guard, and wait vpon
The Gallowes at an Execution,
But yet the office is most fit to fee,
And fit that honest men should haue it free.
Now for the other sucking diuell, the Iaylor
His work's brought to him, as he were a Taylor,
As if he were a Fencer, he'll begin,
And aske a man what Ward he will be in:
(But first the Prisoner drawes without delay,
A sop for Cerberus that turnes the key.)
Then the old prisoners garnish doe demand,
Which straight must be discharged out of hand,
But if he cannot pay, or doth deny,
He thrusts him in the hole, there lets him lye.
If a good prisoner hath a well linde purse,
The Iaylor then esteemes him as his nurse,
Suckes like a Bulcalfe, and doth neuer cease
Till with much griefe he heares of a release.
An vnder-keeper, (though without desert)
Is a continuall knaue in spight on's heart:
If to the Prisoners he be sharpe and cruell,
He proues their knaue, and his good masters Iewell:
If vnto them himselfe he well behaue,
He is their Iewell, and his masters knaue.
So let him turne himselfe which way he can,
He seldome shall be held an honest man.
Perhaps the Jaylor in one stinking roome
Hath sixe beds, for the Gallant and the Groome,
In lowsie linnen, ragged couerlets:
Twelue men to lodge in those sixe beds he sets:
For which each man doth pay a groat a night,
Which weekely's eight and twenty shillings right:
Thus one foule dirty roome from men vnwilling,
Draws yearely seauenty three pound sixteen shilling.
Besides a Iaylor (to keepe men in feare)
Will like a demi-diuill dominere:
Reare like a Bearward, grumble, snarle, and growle,
Like a Towre Cat-a-Mountaine stare and scowle.
He and the Serieant may be coupled too,
As bane of Mankind, for they both vndoe:
Th'Extortioner and Broaker nam'd before,
Hauing both bit and grip'd a mans state sore:
In comes the Serieant for his breakfast then,
Drags him to th'Iayle, to be new squeezd agen:
And thence he gets not, there he shall not start,
Till the last drop of bloud's wrong from his heart.
Yet I haue heard some Serieants haue beene mild,
And vsd their Prisoner like a Christians child;
Nip'd him in priuate, neuer trig'd his way,
As Bandogs carrion, but faire went away,
Follow'd aloofe, shew'd himselfe kind and meeke,
And lodg'd him in his owne house for a weeke.
You'd wonder at such kindnesse in a man,
So many Regions from a Christian,
But what's the cause, Ile lead you out o'th maze,
'Tis twenty shillings euery day he stayes,
Besides the Serieants wife must haue a stroake,
At the poore teate, some outside she must soake,
Although she tridge for't, whil'st good fortunes fall,
He shall command house, Serieant, and all.
Thus may it come by th' side o'th breeding woman,
The Seriants Son's a Gentleman, no Yeoman.
And whil'st they fish from mens decayes and wants,
Their wiues may proue foule fleshly Cormorants.
Thus a bad Serieant and a Jaylor both,
Are Cormorants which all good people loath,
And yet amongst them some good men there are,
Like snow at Midsommer, exceeding rare.
His work's brought to him, as he were a Taylor,
As if he were a Fencer, he'll begin,
And aske a man what Ward he will be in:
(But first the Prisoner drawes without delay,
A sop for Cerberus that turnes the key.)
Then the old prisoners garnish doe demand,
Which straight must be discharged out of hand,
But if he cannot pay, or doth deny,
He thrusts him in the hole, there lets him lye.
If a good prisoner hath a well linde purse,
The Iaylor then esteemes him as his nurse,
Suckes like a Bulcalfe, and doth neuer cease
Till with much griefe he heares of a release.
An vnder-keeper, (though without desert)
Is a continuall knaue in spight on's heart:
If to the Prisoners he be sharpe and cruell,
He proues their knaue, and his good masters Iewell:
If vnto them himselfe he well behaue,
He is their Iewell, and his masters knaue.
So let him turne himselfe which way he can,
He seldome shall be held an honest man.
Perhaps the Jaylor in one stinking roome
Hath sixe beds, for the Gallant and the Groome,
In lowsie linnen, ragged couerlets:
Twelue men to lodge in those sixe beds he sets:
For which each man doth pay a groat a night,
Which weekely's eight and twenty shillings right:
Thus one foule dirty roome from men vnwilling,
Draws yearely seauenty three pound sixteen shilling.
Besides a Iaylor (to keepe men in feare)
Will like a demi-diuill dominere:
Reare like a Bearward, grumble, snarle, and growle,
Like a Towre Cat-a-Mountaine stare and scowle.
He and the Serieant may be coupled too,
As bane of Mankind, for they both vndoe:
Th'Extortioner and Broaker nam'd before,
Hauing both bit and grip'd a mans state sore:
In comes the Serieant for his breakfast then,
Drags him to th'Iayle, to be new squeezd agen:
And thence he gets not, there he shall not start,
Till the last drop of bloud's wrong from his heart.
Yet I haue heard some Serieants haue beene mild,
And vsd their Prisoner like a Christians child;
Nip'd him in priuate, neuer trig'd his way,
As Bandogs carrion, but faire went away,
Follow'd aloofe, shew'd himselfe kind and meeke,
And lodg'd him in his owne house for a weeke.
11
So many Regions from a Christian,
But what's the cause, Ile lead you out o'th maze,
'Tis twenty shillings euery day he stayes,
Besides the Serieants wife must haue a stroake,
At the poore teate, some outside she must soake,
Although she tridge for't, whil'st good fortunes fall,
He shall command house, Serieant, and all.
Thus may it come by th' side o'th breeding woman,
The Seriants Son's a Gentleman, no Yeoman.
And whil'st they fish from mens decayes and wants,
Their wiues may proue foule fleshly Cormorants.
Thus a bad Serieant and a Jaylor both,
Are Cormorants which all good people loath,
And yet amongst them some good men there are,
Like snow at Midsommer, exceeding rare.
A Symonicall Patron, and his penny Clarke.
The Argvment.
Here Magus seeketh holy things to buy,With cursed bribes and base corrupting gold:
Lets Soules for want of Preaching starue and dye,
Fleeces and slayes his flockes, bare pill'd and pold:
That to speake truth, in spight of who controls,
Such Clarkes and Patron murther many soules.
This is the bane both of the age and men,
A Patron with his benefices ten;
That wallowes in fat Liuings a Church-leach,
And cannot keepe out of my Corm'rants reach,
One of these Patrons doth deuoure his Clarks,
As they doe perish Soules, after foure Markes,
And euery yeare a paire of new high shooes,
For which betwixt two Churches he doth vse
Each Sabbath day with diligence to trot,
But to what purpose, few or none know not.
Except it be'cause would heeeate and feed,
Hee'l starue two Cures, for he can hardly reade.
This sir Iohn Lacklatine, true course doth keepe,
To preach the Vestry men all fast asleepe,
And boxe and cuffe a Pulpit mightily.
Speaking non-sence with nose-wise grauity,
These youths, in Art, purse, and attire most bare
Giue their attendance at each steeple faire;
Being once hir'd he'l not displease his Lord,
His fully Patron, nor dares preach a word,
But where he giues the text, and that must be
Som place of Scripture bites no vsury,
Extortion or the like, but some calme Law,
That will not fret his fore be't nere so raw.
As calmely preach'd, as lamely too expresse't,
With clamarous yell that likes the Parish best.
This Clarke shall be a drudge too, all his time,
Weeds in the garden beares out dung and slime:
Then vpon Sabbath dayes the scroyle beginnes
With most vnhallowed hands, to weed vp sinnes:
And from cup filling all his weeke dayes spent,
Comes then to giue the Cup at Sacrament.
And from his trencher waiting goes to serue
Spirituall food to those that almost starue;
And what's this Clarke that's of such seruile minde,
Some smarting Pedant, or mechanicke hinde,
Who taking an intelligencers place,
Against poore tenants first crept into grace,
And drudges for eight pounds a yeare perhaps,
With his great vailes of Sundayes trencher scraps.
This makes the sacred Tribe of Leui glad,
That many of them proue the Tribe of Gad.
This makes good Schollers iustly to complaine,
When Patrons take they care not who for gaine,
When as a Carter shall more wages haue,
Then a good Preacher that help s Soules to saue,
These Cormorants Gods part doth eate and cram,
And so they fare well, care not who they damne,
The people scarce know what a Sermon meanes,
For a good Preacher there can haue no meanes,
To keepe himselfe with cloathes, and book & bread
Nor scarce a pillow t'vnderlay his head.
The whil'st the Patrons wife (my Lady Gay)
Fares, and is deckt most dainty euery day:
Shee'l see that preaching trouble not the towne,
And weares a hundred Sermons in a Gowne.
She hath a Preachers liuing on her backe,
For which the soules of many goes to wracke,
And hires a mungrell cheaply by the yeare,
To famish those, Christs bloud hath bought so deare:
What greater cruelty can this exceed,
Then to pine those whom Iesus bids them feed,
These are hels vultures, Tophets greedy fowles,
That proue (like diuels) Cormorants of Soules.
A Patron with his benefices ten;
That wallowes in fat Liuings a Church-leach,
And cannot keepe out of my Corm'rants reach,
One of these Patrons doth deuoure his Clarks,
As they doe perish Soules, after foure Markes,
And euery yeare a paire of new high shooes,
For which betwixt two Churches he doth vse
Each Sabbath day with diligence to trot,
But to what purpose, few or none know not.
Except it be'cause would heeeate and feed,
Hee'l starue two Cures, for he can hardly reade.
This sir Iohn Lacklatine, true course doth keepe,
To preach the Vestry men all fast asleepe,
And boxe and cuffe a Pulpit mightily.
Speaking non-sence with nose-wise grauity,
These youths, in Art, purse, and attire most bare
Giue their attendance at each steeple faire;
Being once hir'd he'l not displease his Lord,
His fully Patron, nor dares preach a word,
But where he giues the text, and that must be
Som place of Scripture bites no vsury,
Extortion or the like, but some calme Law,
That will not fret his fore be't nere so raw.
As calmely preach'd, as lamely too expresse't,
With clamarous yell that likes the Parish best.
This Clarke shall be a drudge too, all his time,
Weeds in the garden beares out dung and slime:
Then vpon Sabbath dayes the scroyle beginnes
With most vnhallowed hands, to weed vp sinnes:
And from cup filling all his weeke dayes spent,
Comes then to giue the Cup at Sacrament.
And from his trencher waiting goes to serue
Spirituall food to those that almost starue;
And what's this Clarke that's of such seruile minde,
Some smarting Pedant, or mechanicke hinde,
Who taking an intelligencers place,
Against poore tenants first crept into grace,
And drudges for eight pounds a yeare perhaps,
With his great vailes of Sundayes trencher scraps.
This makes the sacred Tribe of Leui glad,
That many of them proue the Tribe of Gad.
This makes good Schollers iustly to complaine,
When Patrons take they care not who for gaine,
When as a Carter shall more wages haue,
Then a good Preacher that help s Soules to saue,
These Cormorants Gods part doth eate and cram,
And so they fare well, care not who they damne,
The people scarce know what a Sermon meanes,
For a good Preacher there can haue no meanes,
To keepe himselfe with cloathes, and book & bread
Nor scarce a pillow t'vnderlay his head.
The whil'st the Patrons wife (my Lady Gay)
Fares, and is deckt most dainty euery day:
Shee'l see that preaching trouble not the towne,
And weares a hundred Sermons in a Gowne.
She hath a Preachers liuing on her backe,
For which the soules of many goes to wracke,
And hires a mungrell cheaply by the yeare,
To famish those, Christs bloud hath bought so deare:
What greater cruelty can this exceed,
Then to pine those whom Iesus bids them feed,
These are hels vultures, Tophets greedy fowles,
That proue (like diuels) Cormorants of Soules.
A Country Yeoman.
The Argvment.
Here Dauy Dicker comes, God speed the Plough,Whose Sonne's a Gentleman, and hunts and hawkes:
His Farme good cloathes and seeding will allow,
And whatso'ere of him the Country talkes,
His Sonne's in silkes with feather in his head,
Untill a Begger bring a Foole to bed.
The
Romane Histories doe true relate,
How Dioclesian chang'd his Emp'rors state,
To liue in quiet in a Country Farme,
Out of the reach of treasons dangerous arme.
Then was a Færmer like a lab'ring Ant,
And not a Land deuouring Cormorant.
For if a Gentle man hath Land to let,
He'l haue it, at what price so'ere 'tis set,
And bids, and ouer bids, and will giue more.
Then any man could make of it before:
Offers the Landlord more then he would craue,
And buyes it, though he neither get nor saue.
And whereas Gentlemen their Land would let,
At rates that tenants might both saue and get,
This Cormorant will giue his Landlord more,
Then he would aske, in hope that from the poore
He may extort it double by the rate,
Which he will sell his corne and cattle at.
At pining famine he will ne're repine,
'Tis plenty makes this Cormorant to whine,
To hoard vp corne with many a bitter ban,
From widowes, Orphanes, and the lab'ring man,
He prayes for raine in haruest, night and day,
To rot and to consume the graine and hay:
That so his mowes and reeks, and stacks that mould,
At his owne price he may translate to gold.
But if a plenty come, this rauening thiefe
Torments & sometimes hangs himselfe with griefe.
And all this raking toyle, and carke and care,
Is for his clownish first borne Sonne and heyre,
Who must be gentled by his ill got pelfe,
Though he to get it, got the diuell himselfe.
And whil'st the Fathers bones a rotting lye,
His Sonne his cursed wealth, accurst lets flye,
In whores, drinke, gaming, and in reuell coyle,
The whil'st his fathers Soule in flames doth broyle.
And when the Father on the earth did liue,
To his Sonnes fancie he such way did giue,
For at no season he the plow must hold,
The Summer was too hot, the Winter cold,
He robs his mother of her Butter pence.
Within the Alehouse serues him for expence.
And so like Coles.dog the vntutor'd mome,
Must neither goe to Church nor bide at home.
For he his life another way must frame,
To Hauke, to hunt, abusing the Kings game,
Some Nobleman or Gentleman that's neere,
At a cheape rate to steale what they call deere.
When if a poore man (his great want to serue)
Whose wife and children ready are to starue,
If he but steale a sheepe from out the fold,
The chuffe would hang him for it if he could.
For almes he neuer read the word releeue,
He knowes to get, but neuer knowes to giue,
And whatso'ere he be that doth liue thus.
Is a worse Cormorant then my Æsacus.
How Dioclesian chang'd his Emp'rors state,
To liue in quiet in a Country Farme,
Out of the reach of treasons dangerous arme.
12
And not a Land deuouring Cormorant.
For if a Gentle man hath Land to let,
He'l haue it, at what price so'ere 'tis set,
And bids, and ouer bids, and will giue more.
Then any man could make of it before:
Offers the Landlord more then he would craue,
And buyes it, though he neither get nor saue.
And whereas Gentlemen their Land would let,
At rates that tenants might both saue and get,
This Cormorant will giue his Landlord more,
Then he would aske, in hope that from the poore
He may extort it double by the rate,
Which he will sell his corne and cattle at.
At pining famine he will ne're repine,
'Tis plenty makes this Cormorant to whine,
To hoard vp corne with many a bitter ban,
From widowes, Orphanes, and the lab'ring man,
He prayes for raine in haruest, night and day,
To rot and to consume the graine and hay:
That so his mowes and reeks, and stacks that mould,
At his owne price he may translate to gold.
But if a plenty come, this rauening thiefe
Torments & sometimes hangs himselfe with griefe.
And all this raking toyle, and carke and care,
Is for his clownish first borne Sonne and heyre,
Who must be gentled by his ill got pelfe,
Though he to get it, got the diuell himselfe.
And whil'st the Fathers bones a rotting lye,
His Sonne his cursed wealth, accurst lets flye,
In whores, drinke, gaming, and in reuell coyle,
The whil'st his fathers Soule in flames doth broyle.
And when the Father on the earth did liue,
To his Sonnes fancie he such way did giue,
For at no season he the plow must hold,
The Summer was too hot, the Winter cold,
He robs his mother of her Butter pence.
Within the Alehouse serues him for expence.
And so like Coles.dog the vntutor'd mome,
Must neither goe to Church nor bide at home.
For he his life another way must frame,
To Hauke, to hunt, abusing the Kings game,
Some Nobleman or Gentleman that's neere,
At a cheape rate to steale what they call deere.
When if a poore man (his great want to serue)
Whose wife and children ready are to starue,
If he but steale a sheepe from out the fold,
The chuffe would hang him for it if he could.
For almes he neuer read the word releeue,
He knowes to get, but neuer knowes to giue,
And whatso'ere he be that doth liue thus.
Is a worse Cormorant then my Æsacus.
A Figure-flinger, or a couz'ning Cunning-man.
The Argvment.
Amongst a foolish, faithlesse, gracelesse, crew,This man hath better credit then Gods word:
For losse that's past, or profit to ensue,
Like to a Tearme, with Customers he's stor'd,
Hee's a Soothsayer, but sayth seldome sooth,
And hath the Diuels great seale for what he doth.
Here now I draw a curtaine and discouer,
Amongst all knaues, the diuels speciall louer:
One that doth Court him still, and daily woe,
And faine would see the diuell but knowes not how,
He has him in his workes, that's his sure place,
But has not art to bring him to his face,
When he could wish him to his outward sense,
The diuell sits laughing in his conscience:
Yet you shall haue this figure-flinger prate,
To his gull client (small wit shællow pate,)
As if he were Lord warden of hell sire,
And Lucifer and he had both one sire.
The Fiends his couzen Germanes (once remou'd)
From earth to hell, where he is best belou'd.
More fustian language from his tongue doth drop,
Then would set forth an honest tradesmans shop:
As if that all Magitians that e're were,
Vnworthy were his learned bookes to beare.
Nor Zoroastres King o'th Bactrians,
Nor the sage Magi of the Persians,
Nor any coniuring Sonne of Cham or Chus:
Nor Faustus with his Mephostophilus,
Cornelius, Agrippa, Simon Magus,
Nor any twixt the Riuer Thames or Tagus,
Nor Britaines Bladud, Cambriaes Merlin, Bacon,
Companions for this man would ne're be taken.
For he is rare, and deeply read indeed,
In the admir'd right reuerend old wiues Creed,
Talkes of the Iewish Thalmud, and Cabals,
Solstitiums and Equinoctials,
Of auguries, of prophesies, predictions,
Prognostications, reuelations, fictions.
And as he could the Elements command,
He seemes as he their minds doth vnderstand.
By Fire he hath the skill of Pyromanty,
By Ayre he hath the Art of Heremanty,
By Water he knowes much in Hidromanty,
And by the Earth hee's skill'd in Geomanty,
Palme Chiromanty, couz'ning Necromancy,
To gull the world, to fulfill fooles fancie,
Hags, ghosts,and goblins, furies, fairies, clues,
He knowes the secrets of the diuels themselues.
There's not a Nimph, a fawne, or goat-foot Satyre,
That liues by Fire, by Aire by Earth, or Water,
Nor Driades or Hamadriades,
Betwixt Septentrio and Meridies,
But he commands them to doe what they list,
If he but bend the brow, or clutch the fist.
He'le tell a mans hearts secrets what he thinkes,
Like Oedepus vnfolds th'ambiguous Sphinx,
With skill surpassing great Albumazers,
He with intelligencing Fiends confers,
And by his wondrous Attacoesticon,
Knowes the Turkes counsell, and what Prester John
Determines, or what businesse she now befals
Amidst the Conclaue of Romes Cardinals.
He can release, or else increase all harmes,
About the necke or wrests by tying charmes.
He hath a tricke to kill the Agues force,
And make the patient better; or much worse,
To the great toe, three letters he can tye,
Shall make the Gowt to tarry or else flye.
With two words and three leaues of foure-leau'd grasse
He makes the tooth-ach, stay, repasse, or passe:
If lost goods you againe would faine haue got,
Goe but to him, and you shall speed, or not.
But he will gaine whether you get or lose,
He'le haue his Fee, for so the bargaine goes:
He'le tell you wonders when you are alone,
Of the Philosophers admired stone:
And that it from Vtopia first did come,
Brought to him by a Spirit, he sent to Rome,
Whereby (t'inrich the world hee dares be bold)
To turne pans, pots, and dripping pans to gold.
And in the Goldsmith's burnisht glistring row,
Place Ironmongers with a fairer show,
Turne Spits and Andir'ns to bright mettle shining,
That when coine's scarce you straight may put to coining,
These and a thousand more, as idely vaine
Fooles swallow, and hee swallowes them againe,
And though the marke of truth he neuer hits,
Yet still this Cormorant doth liue by's wits,
And ne're will want a false deuouring tricke,
Till hells Archcormorant deuoure him quicke.
Amongst all knaues, the diuels speciall louer:
One that doth Court him still, and daily woe,
And faine would see the diuell but knowes not how,
He has him in his workes, that's his sure place,
But has not art to bring him to his face,
When he could wish him to his outward sense,
The diuell sits laughing in his conscience:
Yet you shall haue this figure-flinger prate,
To his gull client (small wit shællow pate,)
As if he were Lord warden of hell sire,
And Lucifer and he had both one sire.
The Fiends his couzen Germanes (once remou'd)
From earth to hell, where he is best belou'd.
More fustian language from his tongue doth drop,
Then would set forth an honest tradesmans shop:
As if that all Magitians that e're were,
Vnworthy were his learned bookes to beare.
Nor Zoroastres King o'th Bactrians,
Nor the sage Magi of the Persians,
Nor any coniuring Sonne of Cham or Chus:
Nor Faustus with his Mephostophilus,
Cornelius, Agrippa, Simon Magus,
Nor any twixt the Riuer Thames or Tagus,
Nor Britaines Bladud, Cambriaes Merlin, Bacon,
Companions for this man would ne're be taken.
For he is rare, and deeply read indeed,
In the admir'd right reuerend old wiues Creed,
Talkes of the Iewish Thalmud, and Cabals,
Solstitiums and Equinoctials,
Of auguries, of prophesies, predictions,
Prognostications, reuelations, fictions.
And as he could the Elements command,
He seemes as he their minds doth vnderstand.
By Fire he hath the skill of Pyromanty,
By Ayre he hath the Art of Heremanty,
By Water he knowes much in Hidromanty,
And by the Earth hee's skill'd in Geomanty,
Palme Chiromanty, couz'ning Necromancy,
To gull the world, to fulfill fooles fancie,
Hags, ghosts,and goblins, furies, fairies, clues,
He knowes the secrets of the diuels themselues.
13
That liues by Fire, by Aire by Earth, or Water,
Nor Driades or Hamadriades,
Betwixt Septentrio and Meridies,
But he commands them to doe what they list,
If he but bend the brow, or clutch the fist.
He'le tell a mans hearts secrets what he thinkes,
Like Oedepus vnfolds th'ambiguous Sphinx,
With skill surpassing great Albumazers,
He with intelligencing Fiends confers,
And by his wondrous Attacoesticon,
Knowes the Turkes counsell, and what Prester John
Determines, or what businesse she now befals
Amidst the Conclaue of Romes Cardinals.
He can release, or else increase all harmes,
About the necke or wrests by tying charmes.
He hath a tricke to kill the Agues force,
And make the patient better; or much worse,
To the great toe, three letters he can tye,
Shall make the Gowt to tarry or else flye.
With two words and three leaues of foure-leau'd grasse
He makes the tooth-ach, stay, repasse, or passe:
If lost goods you againe would faine haue got,
Goe but to him, and you shall speed, or not.
But he will gaine whether you get or lose,
He'le haue his Fee, for so the bargaine goes:
He'le tell you wonders when you are alone,
Of the Philosophers admired stone:
And that it from Vtopia first did come,
Brought to him by a Spirit, he sent to Rome,
Whereby (t'inrich the world hee dares be bold)
To turne pans, pots, and dripping pans to gold.
And in the Goldsmith's burnisht glistring row,
Place Ironmongers with a fairer show,
Turne Spits and Andir'ns to bright mettle shining,
That when coine's scarce you straight may put to coining,
These and a thousand more, as idely vaine
Fooles swallow, and hee swallowes them againe,
And though the marke of truth he neuer hits,
Yet still this Cormorant doth liue by's wits,
And ne're will want a false deuouring tricke,
Till hells Archcormorant deuoure him quicke.
A Corrupted Lawyer, and a knauish Vndershriue.
The Argvment.
The soule of Common-wealths is in good Lawes,Their execution makes a happie State,
But where Corruption opes his hungry Jawes;
Where Lawyers doe increase, not cease debate,
Such Law-wormes are the Diuels dearest brood,
Who make the common-harme their priuate good.
A hall, a hall, the tramplers are at hand,
A shifting Master, and as sweetly man'd:
His Buckram-bearer, one that knowes his ku,
Can write with one hand and receiue with two.
The trampler is in hast, O cleere the way,
Takes fees with both hands cause he cannot stay,
No matter wheth'r the cause be right or wrong,
So hee be payd for letting out his tongue.
Me thinkes that posie which the Painters score
Vpon Inne posts, would fit this fellowes doore,
Because he lets his Conscience out for fee,
That here's a Tongue that's let at liuery.
This pettifogger, like a Lapland Witch,
Sels his winde deare, and so growes diuellish rich:
Breath is his life, and deare he'le sell his breath,
The more he wastes, the nearer is his death.
To begger any man he will not straine
His voyce, except they pay him for his paine.
He best doth fare where Clients fare the worse,
And euery meale hath first and second course,
The dishes that come first vp to the messe,
Are Brawles and quarrels, strife, vnquietnesse,
Contentions, emulations, and debate,
These furnish forth his table in great slate.
And then for picking-meat, or daintie bits,
The second course is Actions, cases, writs:
Long Suits from Terme to terme, and Fines and fees,
At the last cast comes in for Fruit and cheese.
The man of all men, most in art excel'd,
That in Great Britaine would Contention geld,
And by that meanes could make a good preuention,
Contention would beget no more contention.
This Lawyers riches euer springs and bloomes,
From sheeps coat, calues skin, russet hobnaild grooms
Perswading them that all things shall goe well,
Suckes out the Egge, leaues them the emptie shell,
He hath a sleight in spinning out a Cause,
Till all the money out of purse it drawes,
His Clients with full budgets come to towne,
But he takes order for their going downe,
The full is now the Lawyers, theirs the wane,
Like buckets turn'd to come vp full againe:
With papers laden thinke themselues most firme,
Carries them downe, to bring them vp next terme,
Horse plow, and cattle goe to wracke, split all,
Tis fit the Stable waite vpon the Hall.
Their sheepe the parchment beares, their Geese the quils,
Which turnes their state as this bad Lawyer wils.
Their shirts the paper makes, their Bees the wax,
T'vndoe themselues that good discretion lacks,
These men like Geese against themselues doe things,
In plucking quils from their owne foolish wings,
This Lawyer makes his dang'rous shafts withall,
And shootes them at the fooles frō whence they fall.
The Common-wealths Impostum hee doth cut,
And the corruption in his purse doth put,
One giues him for a bribe, a Brawne or swine,
And thats drown'd with anothers But of wine,
One giues a Coach all deckt and painted gay.
Anothers Horses drawes it quite away,
One giues a Jarre of Oyle to scape the foile,
An Oxe o'returnes the Iarre, and spils the Oyle.
And thus like Pharaohs Kine, he hath the power,
To make the fattest bribes the leane deuoure.
His motions moue commotions, and his suites,
Foure times a yeare doe Termely yeeld him fruits.
Foure sundry wayes a Kingdomes Lawes are vs'd,
By two maintained, and by two abus'd:
Good Lawyers liue by Law, and 'tis most fit,
Good men obey the Law, liue vnder it.
Bad Lawyers (for their gaine) doe wrest the Law,
Bad men of God or mans Law haue no awe.
But whether these men vse Law well or ill,
Th'intention of the Law is honest still.
For as the text is rent, and torne, and varied,
And by opinions from the fence is carried
By ignorant and wilfull Hereticks,
Or impure separating Schismaticks,
Though from the truth of text all men should seuer,
The text is permanent and Sacred euer.
Euen so the Law is in it selfe vpright,
Correcting and protecting, wrong and right:
Tis no just Lawyers, or the Lawes defame,
Although some hounds of hell abuse the same.
This Cormorant I meane, gulps whom he list,
And hauing swallow'd fees into his fist,
Deferres the motion till the Court with-drawes,
Then to the cushions pleads the poore mans cause,
As formally as if the Iudges sate,
No matter for the man, the money's gat.
My Cormorant was neuer match'd till now,
If I said o'rematch'd, Ile resolue you how,
And you that reade it shall confesse it true,
Perhaps it is a thing well knowne to you,
Where Corm'rants haunts, numbers of fish grow lesse,
But where bad Lawyers come, there brawles increase.
A shifting Master, and as sweetly man'd:
His Buckram-bearer, one that knowes his ku,
Can write with one hand and receiue with two.
The trampler is in hast, O cleere the way,
Takes fees with both hands cause he cannot stay,
No matter wheth'r the cause be right or wrong,
So hee be payd for letting out his tongue.
Me thinkes that posie which the Painters score
Vpon Inne posts, would fit this fellowes doore,
Because he lets his Conscience out for fee,
That here's a Tongue that's let at liuery.
This pettifogger, like a Lapland Witch,
Sels his winde deare, and so growes diuellish rich:
Breath is his life, and deare he'le sell his breath,
The more he wastes, the nearer is his death.
To begger any man he will not straine
His voyce, except they pay him for his paine.
He best doth fare where Clients fare the worse,
And euery meale hath first and second course,
The dishes that come first vp to the messe,
Are Brawles and quarrels, strife, vnquietnesse,
Contentions, emulations, and debate,
These furnish forth his table in great slate.
And then for picking-meat, or daintie bits,
The second course is Actions, cases, writs:
Long Suits from Terme to terme, and Fines and fees,
At the last cast comes in for Fruit and cheese.
The man of all men, most in art excel'd,
That in Great Britaine would Contention geld,
And by that meanes could make a good preuention,
Contention would beget no more contention.
This Lawyers riches euer springs and bloomes,
From sheeps coat, calues skin, russet hobnaild grooms
Perswading them that all things shall goe well,
Suckes out the Egge, leaues them the emptie shell,
He hath a sleight in spinning out a Cause,
Till all the money out of purse it drawes,
His Clients with full budgets come to towne,
But he takes order for their going downe,
The full is now the Lawyers, theirs the wane,
Like buckets turn'd to come vp full againe:
With papers laden thinke themselues most firme,
Carries them downe, to bring them vp next terme,
Horse plow, and cattle goe to wracke, split all,
Tis fit the Stable waite vpon the Hall.
Their sheepe the parchment beares, their Geese the quils,
Which turnes their state as this bad Lawyer wils.
Their shirts the paper makes, their Bees the wax,
T'vndoe themselues that good discretion lacks,
These men like Geese against themselues doe things,
In plucking quils from their owne foolish wings,
This Lawyer makes his dang'rous shafts withall,
And shootes them at the fooles frō whence they fall.
The Common-wealths Impostum hee doth cut,
And the corruption in his purse doth put,
One giues him for a bribe, a Brawne or swine,
And thats drown'd with anothers But of wine,
14
Anothers Horses drawes it quite away,
One giues a Jarre of Oyle to scape the foile,
An Oxe o'returnes the Iarre, and spils the Oyle.
And thus like Pharaohs Kine, he hath the power,
To make the fattest bribes the leane deuoure.
His motions moue commotions, and his suites,
Foure times a yeare doe Termely yeeld him fruits.
Foure sundry wayes a Kingdomes Lawes are vs'd,
By two maintained, and by two abus'd:
Good Lawyers liue by Law, and 'tis most fit,
Good men obey the Law, liue vnder it.
Bad Lawyers (for their gaine) doe wrest the Law,
Bad men of God or mans Law haue no awe.
But whether these men vse Law well or ill,
Th'intention of the Law is honest still.
For as the text is rent, and torne, and varied,
And by opinions from the fence is carried
By ignorant and wilfull Hereticks,
Or impure separating Schismaticks,
Though from the truth of text all men should seuer,
The text is permanent and Sacred euer.
Euen so the Law is in it selfe vpright,
Correcting and protecting, wrong and right:
Tis no just Lawyers, or the Lawes defame,
Although some hounds of hell abuse the same.
This Cormorant I meane, gulps whom he list,
And hauing swallow'd fees into his fist,
Deferres the motion till the Court with-drawes,
Then to the cushions pleads the poore mans cause,
As formally as if the Iudges sate,
No matter for the man, the money's gat.
My Cormorant was neuer match'd till now,
If I said o'rematch'd, Ile resolue you how,
And you that reade it shall confesse it true,
Perhaps it is a thing well knowne to you,
Where Corm'rants haunts, numbers of fish grow lesse,
But where bad Lawyers come, there brawles increase.
Now master Undershrieue I vnderstand,
You bring my Lawyer worke vnto his hand,
You bring him stuffe, hee like a Taylor cuts it.
And into any shape hee pleaseth puts it.
Though to the Client it appeare slight stuffe,
It shall out-last him any suite of Buffe:
For though from terme to terme it be worne long.
Tis drest still with the teazle of the tongue,
That (though it be old) at euery day of hearing,
It lookes fresh, as't had neuer come to wearing.
And though it seeme as th'owner neuer wore it.
A Broaker will not giue him three-pence for it.
Sweet master Shrieue, let it not grieue your mind,
You being the last o'th brood, come last behind,
No doubt you might be first in a bad case,
But being call'd vnder, I make this your place:
I know where e're you stand, you are so good,
You'l scorne to be vnlike one of the brood,
And tak't in dudgeon (as you might no doubt)
If 'mongst this ranke of Corm'rants you were out.
I haue a warrant heere for what I doe,
Plaine truth it selfe, and that haue seldome you.
Some of your tribe a man may honest call,
But those my Corm'rant meddles not withall.
You that dare fright men of a shallow wit,
Who cannot read when there is nothing writ:
And can returne (when you are pleas'd to saue)
A Non inuentus for a bribing knaue.
For one that stands indebted to the King
A Nihil habet, if his purse can ring.
When a poore man shall haue his Bullockes ceaz'd,
And priz'd at little, to make you appeaz'd
You haue the art and skill to raze words out
Of Writs and Warrants, to bring gaine about.
I will not serue you so, for if you looke,
Your name stands fairely printed in my booke,
For euery one to reade, how you can straine
On Widowes goods, and restore none againe.
Picke Iuries for your purpose, which is worse
Then if you pick'd the wronged Plaintiffes purse:
Returne your Writs to your aduantage best,
Bring in some money, and drab out the rest.
Leauing (oft times) the high Shrieue in the lurch,
Who stops the bountie should repaire the Church,
Or buy some Bels to sound out his deuotion.
If either Ayre, or Earth, or the wide Ocean
Can shew worse Cormorants, or any brooke,
I'le neuer aske a penny for my Booke.
You bring my Lawyer worke vnto his hand,
You bring him stuffe, hee like a Taylor cuts it.
And into any shape hee pleaseth puts it.
Though to the Client it appeare slight stuffe,
It shall out-last him any suite of Buffe:
For though from terme to terme it be worne long.
Tis drest still with the teazle of the tongue,
That (though it be old) at euery day of hearing,
It lookes fresh, as't had neuer come to wearing.
And though it seeme as th'owner neuer wore it.
A Broaker will not giue him three-pence for it.
Sweet master Shrieue, let it not grieue your mind,
You being the last o'th brood, come last behind,
No doubt you might be first in a bad case,
But being call'd vnder, I make this your place:
I know where e're you stand, you are so good,
You'l scorne to be vnlike one of the brood,
And tak't in dudgeon (as you might no doubt)
If 'mongst this ranke of Corm'rants you were out.
I haue a warrant heere for what I doe,
Plaine truth it selfe, and that haue seldome you.
Some of your tribe a man may honest call,
But those my Corm'rant meddles not withall.
You that dare fright men of a shallow wit,
Who cannot read when there is nothing writ:
And can returne (when you are pleas'd to saue)
A Non inuentus for a bribing knaue.
For one that stands indebted to the King
A Nihil habet, if his purse can ring.
When a poore man shall haue his Bullockes ceaz'd,
And priz'd at little, to make you appeaz'd
You haue the art and skill to raze words out
Of Writs and Warrants, to bring gaine about.
I will not serue you so, for if you looke,
Your name stands fairely printed in my booke,
For euery one to reade, how you can straine
On Widowes goods, and restore none againe.
Picke Iuries for your purpose, which is worse
Then if you pick'd the wronged Plaintiffes purse:
Returne your Writs to your aduantage best,
Bring in some money, and drab out the rest.
Leauing (oft times) the high Shrieue in the lurch,
Who stops the bountie should repaire the Church,
Or buy some Bels to sound out his deuotion.
If either Ayre, or Earth, or the wide Ocean
Can shew worse Cormorants, or any brooke,
I'le neuer aske a penny for my Booke.
Epilogve.
Now Reader, tell me (if thou well canst judge)If any honest man haue cause to grudge
At these my Satyres, being plaine and true,
Giuing the world and the Diuell their due.
I haue but bluntly call'd a spade a spade,
And hee that wincheth shewes himselfe a iade.
Be quiet, see thy faults, and learne t'amend,
Thou shewest thy guiltinesse if thou contend.
FINIS.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |