Miscellaneous works of George Wither

Who, can express the pain of being stung
With such a fiery Serpent as the TONGUE?
Or, what can cure it, but his being ey'd,
Whom, once, the Brazen Serpent typifi'd?
'Tis far more sharp than Arrows, Darts or Spears;
Down to the heart, it pierces through the ears;
Not only wounds, but frighteth also more
Than murthring Canons, when they loudest roar;
Afflicteth us, whilst here we draw our breath,
And, Gangreeve-like, so spreadeth after death
(Ev'n to posterity upon our Names)
That it destroys the life of honest Fames.

This fury SLANDER, hath been quarter'd long,
In Rotten-Row, and Hart-street, at the Tongue;
Her Magazeens and Forges are all there,
The Shop at which she vents them, is the Ear,
In ev'ry Town and City; and no places
Or persons, her aspersions and disgraces
Can long avoid: For, ev'ry where she scatters
That shot wherewith the Forts of Fame she batters.
So venemous it is, that every touch
Proves mortal, or indangers very much,
And nothing shooteth more impoysoned pellets,
Except it be the flatteries of Prelates.

I must confess, that many years ago
I therewith have been often wounded so

That, very well, content I could have been
To lye down, where I might no more be seen;
And, my stupidity is not, yet, such
As not to feel indignities as much
As any man: But, I have learned how
To change my Sicknesses to Physick, now:
And when the world intendeth me a shame
By retroversion to convert the same
To that, which from bespattrings purifies,
And makes me both her Blame and Praise despise,
No more displeas'd, or pleased therewithall
Than if a whibling Cur, should fawn or bawl.
For, unto those Oppressions, heretofore
And now lay'd on me, whatsoever more
The world shall add; though they a while oppress,
Will, shortly, make them, not alone much less
But, also none at all; and wheel about
Upon her self, as soon as my Turn's out.

Praise, is a pleasing thing, to flesh and blood,
Yet, often doth it much more harm than good;
Puffs up with Pride, ore-weening and vain glory.
Or, with affection to things transitory
Beyond a safe Mean; and makes men suppose
Themselves to be, what ev'ry neighbour knows
They are not; yea, what they themselves do see
They neither are, nor possibly can be.
Whereas, to be without a cause despis'd,
Disprais'd, reproach'd, scoft, jeer'd and scandaliz'd,
An undue self-opinion doth remove
True Meekness and Humility improve;
Brings Constancy and Patience to their tryal,
And, at the last, to such a Self-denial,
As in the close will more contentment give us
Than all, whereof a Slander can deprive us.

The flatteries of his Lords, made Joash stumble,
Reviling speeches, made King David humble,
Good men, by praises, oft, are evil made,
But, by Reproaches harm they never had.

The World, which best is pleas'd with her own baubles
For that false titulary honor scrabbles,
Which is compos'd of aiery Attributes,
Or, which opinion only constitutes:
And, all her happiness, dependant seems
On vulgar approbations and esteems,
Which are, indeed, her Portion: but, to those,
Who can look both beyond, and through the Shows,
That such Toies make, nought therein doth appear
To merit their desire, love, hate or fear:
And, therefore, they respect them, (come, or go)
As Reason them obliges thereunto,
Or, as things, which (if grace divine be granted)
Indifferently, may be possest or wanted;
Make such use as they serve to, whilst they have them,
And yield them, when resum'd, to those who gave them.
For, had external honours in this place,
Been truly more essential than disgrace,
To happiness eternal; CHRIST had waved
The scandals of the Cross; we had been saved
And sanctifi'd should be without those troubles,
Scorns and reproaches, which the world now doubles
And may redouble: yea, in vain had he
A promise made, that they should blessed be
Who in his sufferings do with him partake,
And are reproach'd and slander'd for his sake.

These things consider'd, I am at full rest;
Slanders infringe not my chief interest.
Good or Ill words will me no more concern
When I am dead, than when I was unborn.

And, whilst I live, (as is inferr'd before)
They harm a little, and they profit more.
If Scandals neither mend nor mar my health,
Increase not troubles, nor decrease my wealth,
Save in opinion onely; all those losses
Are cur'd, if my vote, that opinion crosses.
And (prate who list) I will as merry bee
As is a Pye upon a Cherry-tree.
Praise, or dispraises, if so be my heart
Assures, that neither of them by desert
To mee belongs, my own Phanatick brain
Is cause of all, whereof I do complain,
Or take delight in: praise, blame, bless, or curse,
I am no whit the better, or the worse;
And, all men are as much concern'd as I
In what's then spoken, be it Truth, or Lye.

If of a hundred Crimes I guilty were,
All which, as evidently did appear,
As in a cloudless day, the Sun at noon;
The world, but as the spots within the Moon,
Would look upon them, if, for my defence
I have a face well braz'd with impudence;
An Oily Tongue, a Crocodiles moist eye,
Can finde great Friends, bribe, flatter, fawn and lye,
Ore-awe my neighbours, or, my self express
A friend to them, in their licentiousnesse.
But, were I, both in words and deeds, as free
From just reproof, as mortal man may be,
Had I, but one great neighbour, who envies
All men suppos'd more honest, or more wise,
Than hee is thought; therewith a neighbourhood,
Which take delight in nothing that is good;
Abhorring all, as their injurious foes,
Who, them, in their unrighteous waies oppose;
Or, if I be constrained to have dealing,
With such, by some relation, or nigh dwelling,

Who think, there's nothing rational or just,
But, what tends to their profit, or their lust;
It is impossible to scape the wrongs
Of wicked hands, or of malicious tongues:
And, therefore, he, with whom it thus doth fare
Must study patience, how his lot to bear;
And in this case, can look for no defence
But from GODS Justice, and his Innocence,
Which is sufficient unto them that know
What consolations from those fountains flow.

What, is there to be fear'd in Slandrous Tales,
Whether, they shall be either true or false?
A false Report more mischieves those who spread it,
Than harmeth me. If it impairs my credit,
I may recover it again ere long,
And also peradventure, by that wrong
Improve some Vertue, or abate some Pride,
Within my self till that time, unespy'd.
Although hard words, give harder knocks than stones,
And crack our Credits, yet, they break no Bones;
And, if unjustly thrown, by spightful fingers,
They prove most mischievous unto their flingers.
One fault which Conscience findes, afflicts me more
Than twenty slanders, yea than twenty score:
So long as that lyes quietly in me,
I shall not care who my Accusers be;
And, when that shall accuse me (as sometime
It doth) I sue out an Appeal to him
Who straight acquits me; else I must confess
I should as much fear mine own Righteousness
As all my Sins; for, I esteem them both
Alike impure, and as a menstruous cloath.

If I am justly blam'd for things misdone,
Or, for faults wherein I am going on,
It doth by bringing on me shame of face,
Repentance bring, and to that state of Grace

From which I falling was; and stay the course
Which might have drawn me on from bad to worse,
Until, that by habituated sin,
Endless Impenitency had broke in:
Much more, therefore, to these I am a debter
Who speak ill, than to those men who speak better
Than I deserve: And, though that in their ends
They differ, they may be as useful friends
Who speak of me opprobriously, sometimes,
As they, who praise me, or excuse my crimes.

For, I have long observ'd that all Relations,
Nigh or far off (what ever Obligations
Have nearly joyned them, or whatsoere
Their Quarrels, Bonds, or Disobligements are)
Be (for the most part) either friends or foes,
But, as a prosp'rous, or a cross wind blows;
Or, as their inter'st or Expectancy
May be secur'd, or doth at hazzard lye.
The Love or Hatred, which I finde in them,
Differs but in the Measure, or the Time,
Or, in th'Occasions, which have them inclin'd,
To friendliness, or else to be unkinde.
They frown or smile, they praise, or they disgrace,
Destroy and save, and stab, or else imbrace,
Even as the fit which comes upon them, takes them,
And either pleased, or displeased makes them.
Such will their words and deeds be then to thee,
What ere thou art to them, or they to thee.
As bitter Language, I have heard 'twixt those
That were dear Lovers, as 'twixt greatest Foes,
Yea, and more bitter too, in some respects
Considering their Causes and Effects.

A Foes Revilings very sharp appear,
But, when our Friends exasperated are
With, or without Cause given of offence,
There is between them greater difference

(Or at the least, but very little less)
Than tasted is between the bitterness
Of unpeel'd Wallnut-kernels, and strong Gall,
VVhen with our tongues distinguish them we shall.

Moreover, I have sometimes also seen
That, they, who have unto each other been
Most mischievous, so reconcil'd together
(Though little vertue hath appear'd in either)
So kind in words and deeds, for outward ends,
And, so ingaged mutually as friends
In their Concernments, as if they had never
At variance been; but, hearty friends for ever.
VVhich, when I mind, I neither pleasure have
In Praises, nor do slanders me bereave
Of much content, from whom soe're they come,
So long as I finde Innocence at home;
Nor, in my own respect at any time,
So griev'd am I, as otherwhile for them
VVho have mis-censur'd me; because I know
From what distempers usually they flow;
And that the sob'rest and the wisest men
Have some Deliriums on them now and then.
Exception is not alwayes to be took
By what shall by a Friend or Foe be spoke:
For, men in passion, whether they appear.
Pleas'd or displeas'd, speak few things as they are,
Nor alwayes as they think, but, rather say
That, which the passion bearing then chief sway
Transports them to; although a wound it give
To their own souls, which pains them whilst they live.

But, Friends and Foes, both good and ill report,
And all terrestrial things of every sort,
VVill shortly have an end (with me at least.)
The worst, as well as that whereof the best
Esteem I had, will into nothing fly:
My Slanders, and my Slanderers will dye.

At present, therefore them no more I dread
Than if I saw they were already dead;
And, that which dead or living, shall to me
Befall, will equally forgotten be.
By living, I, their scandals may out-live,
And good proofs of my innocency give.
VVhen I am dead, what ever men shall please
To speak or do, it cannot me disease:
And, they who after death do men defame,
Or shall expose their bodies unto shame,
Bring that dishonour which they did intend
To others, on themselves, at latter end:
Yea, make some question, and suspect their merits;
Repute them persons of ignoble spirits;
And, what they hoped should confirm their peace,
Their terrours and their dangers will increase.
Slanders (though poyson in themselves) have been
To me a precious Antidote for sin,
Preventing, not a few times more than one,
That, wherein else perhaps I had mis-done,
(And I, thereby, effects like his have found
Who had a Sickness cured by a wound)
Whereas, contrariwise, a vain Applause
Of sins or follies, are a frequent cause.

I well remember, that, when I was young
(And in both kinds an Object of the Tongue,
As now I am) I reaped, many wayes,
By Slanders, much more profit than by Praise.
For, Praises made me sometimes over-ween,
And (as if no defects in me had been)
Neglect the means, that, supplements might add
To what, I more in Show, than Substance had.
It, likewise, me to envy did expose,
From which great disadvantages arose,
And scandals, without cause: But Grace divine
Cross'd thereby, what the Devil did design:

For, Defamation, so soon was begun,
That, what it charg'd me with, was never done.
That, sin prevented was, and many more
By sending of the Scandal forth before
The Crime was acted; So, into a Blessing
A Curse was turn'd, which merits this confessing;
And also, me obliges, all my dayes,
On all occasions, to give GOD the praise;
For, if, perhaps it had over-flowed then,
The stream had never kept his bounds again.

The scoffs and jeers, cast on me by the Rimes
Of some reputed Poets in these times
Have been my great advantage: for, th'esteem
Which in my youthful dayes I had of them
Had else perhaps, from my simplicity
Drawn me, by their familiarity
To those affected Vanities with which
They have infected fools, and claw'd their itch.
Were I but as ambitious of that name
A POET, as they are, and think I am,
It might a little vex me, when I hear
How often, in their Pamphlets me they jear,
Because, Truth seasonably I convey
To such as need it, in a homely way,
Best pleasing unto those who do not care
To crack hard shells in which no kernels are;
Or for strong Lines, in which is little found,
Save an affected phrase, and empty sound.
But, I do read them with a smiling pitty
To finde them to be wicked, who are witty.
At their Detractions, I do not repine;
Their Poems I esteem as they do mine:
Their Censures, I with sleighting overpass,
Who, like words without sense, wit without grace;
And, better am contented, without cause
To hear their mis-reports, than their Applause.

As also, that, they should by Pantaloons
Admired be, and honour'd by Buffoons.
Yea, as Job said, should they a Book compile
Against me (as they may, and did erewhile)
I would receive it, on my shoulders bear it,
And as a Crown, upon my head would wear it.

My fearlesness of SLANDERS doth not flow
From Ignorance, which hinders me to know
How, I am scandaliz'd: for it appears
In Print, and I have heard it through both ears.
I daily hear what ignominious lyes
Detraction, to defame me doth devise.
I know, whence they proceed; whereto they tend,
In what likewise they possibly may end:
And it would stagger and affright me too,
Unless I knew the worst, all this could do
For, they, who Idolize the Prelacy
Impute to me no less than Blasphemy,
And Sacriledge: And, I may well expect
That, when their hopes have taken full effect,
Though they with me at present, do but dandle,
They then will curse me with Bell, Book and Candle.
How ever, for their persons I will pray:
For, malice hath not mov'd me to gain-say
Their Prelacy; nor hope to get again
What they usurp, and doth to me pertain:
But, meerly conscientiousness of that
Which in my place I vow'd to vindicate.

Some, call me Traytor too; but well I wot,
They do not so beleeve, or know me not.
I never did betray my trust to any,
Though I my self have been betray'd by many.
With Traytors I have numbred beenf orone,
And serv'd their ends, yet I my self was none:
For, if like Absolom they did pretend
To Sacrifice, and had another end,

I went on in simplicity of heart,
And did not from my Principles depart.
If they intended, or committed Treason,
I wronged not my Conscience, or my Reason
By ought mis-done, except it were, perchance,
Through over-sight, or else through Ignorance;
For which, the Plagues now Epidemical,
To me, as unto other men befall.
I never was in any factious Plot,
Nor likely seems it, by what I have got,
That, with them in their Actings, I was one
VVho, thriv'd by those designs they carried on;
Though being subject to the present Law,
I now do suffer, like Jack Fletchers Daw.
But, howsoere, I seem to merit blame
None, to the King, are truer than I am.

Yet, if in Fame, we credit may repose,
I am designed to be one of those,
VVho shall not be vouchsaf'd that Common grace,
VVhich at his Coronation granted was.
GOD's will be done: Perhaps, the King well knows
I need not, what on others he bestows;
Or, to me, singly, will his favour show,
That I his Magnanimity may know;
And, that he will more gracious be to those
VVho, him did not maliciously oppose,
Than they, whom I did serve, were to their friends,
Because they did not serve them, to their ends.
But, if Report hath not divulg'd a Lye,
VVhat, can I lose, or others get thereby?
My whole estate, already is bereft,
And, what will there be found, where's nothing left?
My life, you'l say; Alas! that's little worth,
It hath been wasting, ever since my birth;
And (when it was at best) too poor a thing,
To satisfie the Vengeance of a King.

It will to most men seem ridiculous,
To hear a Lion Rampant, kill'd a Mouse,
Or, see an Eagle stoop down from on high,
To trusse a Titmouse, or a Butterfly.
The dread of such a loss will not come neer me,
For, Age will shortly kill me, though he spare me;
And, when there's no conveniency of living,
Life, neither is worth asking or the giving.

But GOD's intentions, and the hearts of Kings,
Are such inscrutable and hidden things,
That, none can search their bottomes; then much less
Can they be fathom'd by maliciousness.
Their wayes of working their own pleasures out,
Are, many times, by wheeling round about,
By cross and counter-actings, and by those
Which seem'd their own Designments to oppose.
The faithfull'st men, they do expose oft-times
To hazzards; or with such as are for crimes
Condemn'd, they number them; or, prove them by
Desertions, dis-respects, and Poverty;
And, frequently, do fit them for those places
Wherein they best may serve them, by disgraces;
But principally, at those times, wherein,
Hypocrisie, becomes the Reigning-sin.

More things I might insert, which have relations
In this kinde, to my own prevarications,
And, to th'Improvements, which have oft ensu'd
By Scandals, which I then would have eschew'd.
But, my Experiments will work on none,
VVho cannot by their own, be wrought upon.
Consider therefore all ye unto whom
This Writing, by GOD's providence doth come,
VVhat, in your selves and others, you have heeded,
VVhich hath from Slanders, and from Praise proceeded;
And, you shall finde more by the last undone
Than by the former, at least, ten to one.

According to our Proverb, the Bell clinketh
Just so, as in his fancy, the fool thinketh
And, they who flattring praises love to hear,
Immediately, such to themselves appear,
As represented by their Parasite,
Though no more like than Black-swans are to white.

Such Panegyricks I have sometime seen
That, hard to be resolved, it had been,
By him, whose judgement you therein should crave,
Whether, the Panegyrist were more knave
Than he was Fool, for whom, the same was made:
But, of their equal Impudence I had
No doubt at all, when wistly I had heeded
What one gave, tother took, and what succeeded.
For, I have oftentimes observ'd, thereby,
Good Men deprav'd; Great Men, to Tyranny
Incouraged; That, which is due to men
By Natures Law, at first, they seize and then
Those Attributes, at last, intrude upon
That ought to be ascrib'd to GOD alone.
Which evidences, that, Immodest Praise
Is worse than Slander, and a ground-work layes,
Whereon a superstructure may be built,
To sink the Builders, down to shame and guilt.

SLANDERS, and Persecutions of the Tongue
A portion likewise is, which doth belong
Unto the Saints; and sanctifi'd they are
By him, with whom, an individual share
Each must expect; we, do but only sup
At brim, he drunk the bottome of the Cup:
We altogether merited the blame,
He underwent the sorrow and the shame.
False witnesses against him were suborn'd;
His Glory was to his dishonour turn'd;
His nearest friends forsook him, and forswore him,
His foes preferr'd a Murtherer before him;

His Innocency not alone reproaching,
But, likewise most injuriously incroaching
Upon his righteous person, him pursu'd
Till by a shameful death, he death subdu'd,
And breaking from the grave, to Heav'n ascended,
By Angels to Immortal Life attended;
Where, now inthron'd, he Thrones prepared hath
For all, who follow him in that rough path;
And every slander, scorn, reproach and shame,
He suffr'd here, adds glory to his Name.

This is the way, and hath been ever since,
Through which all men must pass, who go from hence
To that Eternity, where shall be worn
The Robes of honour, when the Rags of scorn
Shall off be thrown. On him I fix mine eyes,
And, that, will me enable to despise
Terrestrial shame and honour: That, makes all
My troubles, when at greatest, seem but small.
That, makes me, whilst my Body is confin'd,
Take pleasure, in the freedomes of the Minde;
Not dreading present, or ensuing wrongs,
Of wicked hands, or of malicious tongues.
This Paradox, it helps me to maintain,
That, where the Grace of GOD is not in vain,
More profit, bitterest reproach affords,
Than all the worlds Applauses, and fair words.

University of Virginia Library

SLANDER is more Beneficiall than PRAISE.