University of Virginia Library


1

The honest Ghost,

OR A Voice from the Vault.

Thrice to the sin-sick world my Muse hath come,
And has been thought too bitter unto Some,
Who, for to shew how much they're discontent,
Have meant to keep mee tongue-ty'd by restraint.
But can this doe it? No, I'm same I was,
And though my earthen vessel cannot pass
Nor pierce these wals of stone where I'm restrain'd,
And for twelve mon'ths with patience remain'd,
I have a Ghost, as now it shall appeare,
Sojourns abroad, while I am caged here.
For what can these spruce Silk-worms do at me?
Shut mee from ayre of high-priz'd libertie:
And in this vast and irksom residence,
Remove mee from the object of each Sense?

2

For first my Eye no object views of State,
But such as to and fro pass by my grate:
And for my Eare, no object doth assail her,
But noyse of Keys, and clamor of a Jayler:
And for my Smel, because nought likes me well,
I catch a cold, whereby I may not smell:
And for my Taste, my palat doth decline
From relishing ought pleasant at this time:
And for my Touch, I feel nought but distress,
And more I smile, the more it doth oppress:
Yet for all this, I doe enjoy as much
In th'faculties of Eye, Eare, Smell, Taste, Touch
As he who glories most; and you shall heare
How I enjoy them too, if you'll forbeare.
I have a grate, where I do see men pass,
And this same grate I make my looking-glass,
And there I see, and I do laugh to see
(For only laughter now is granted mee)
An aged gray-beard, whose dimensions have
Trac'd half their Pilgrim journey to his grave,
Ambiciously aspiring, as if hee
Should never grapple with mortalitie.
He plots and projects, poor decrepit foole,
Lest his insatiat Messaline should scoule,
To gain such honor as his Lady choseth,
Which got, he dies, and by the bargain loseth.
Or else perchance, som high-priz'd Favorite
Presents his Suit and works him this despite,
And must forgoe his place by his esteeme,
Although he know not what the Office meane:

3

Neither concerns this Him, for know you what?
It is not place but profit he aims at;
What matters it how he discharge it then?
He is above the priviledg of men;
For his firm grounds are rear'd on stone, not sand,
And shrink he must, that dare him countermand:
Yet is it strange to see how he, whose place
Resigned is to one new-crept in grace,
Would gull himself, and bear the world in hand
He is advanc'd to place of more command,
Although I'm sure he could be well content
To keep his Place and be no President.
O how this tickles mee, to see a Swad,
Who ne'r so much as education had
To make him generous, advanc'd to state:
And like a Parachito 'gins to prate
More then he ever knew or ever read,
Yet must this grand-Sot be authorized,
And held so grave a Statist, as if he
Were th' only man on earth for policie!
Nor am I so restrain'd, but if I please
I may behold variety of these;
For, wearied with this counterfeit of State,
Unto another corner of my grate
I streight betake mee; where I may behold
A Bulke of honor, like that Asse of gold
Which bore the name of Isis, rear'd on high,
Yet when I view him with an inward eye,

4

I find nought in him but an outward shew,
Nor care I much if He so much did know;
For all the Honour which this man possesseth,
As somtimes, in his cups, himself confesseth,
Deriv'd their late begining (as 'tis said)
From meer extortion in Zacheus trade:
But, till he change his habit, I forbid
That he ere do as good Zacheus did.
Of whom, I think, it may be truly said,
That hee'll prove Banquerout in ev'ry trade;
For he hath shewn himself a malefactor
Both while he was a Statesman and Contractor.
But, besides him, some other Foists there be
Deserve a censure full as well as he:
But th' State is wise, and with an expert hand
Can squeeze these Sponges who do soke our Land.
Another personage I see approach,
And what he is, I guess by Arms on th'Coach;
A great-Man sure, and yet for ought I see
He cannot be of great antiquitie,
For th'Coate he beares, implies it is not long
Since he bore arms, or th'Herald did him wrong:
Who may He bee then? I durst pawn my life,
One that is honor'd meerly for his wife;
So as the only stay of his affiance
Supported is, by means of his alliance:
Great must hee needs bee then, he cannot chuse,
If Mushroms by his means be honour'd thus.
But see, good Malecontent, who's he goes there?
I'le call him to mee, Pray good Sir draw neere;

5

Hee Will not come, Hee doth not like a grate,
Though hee had self-same Prospect but of late,
Yet I'll display him to, and in a word
Uncase yon Pomander sweet-sented Lord.
Hee's such a Sage as hee'd be thought by man,
A grave, judicious, learn'd Justinian,
A Column of the State, and such an one
As all our Isle were worse if he were gone;
Yet heare me and i'le tell you what he is,
One who hath wrong'd the State by rearing his;
A subtle Censor, who his passion smothers
Till it burst out to th'ruining of others,
Wherein he shews his spirit most of all,
By base insulting o're a wretches fall;
A Neuter Lord, who walks as in a mist
And shews himself a cunning formalist,
A meer State-Rhetorician, whose desire,
Having now gorg'd himself, is to retire
From business of State, because he feares
That some ere long will have him by the eares
For courses indirect, which he would shun,
By living privatly un-look'd upon.
But lest this should not hit, he hath convey'd,
And, by his Art, a cleere conveyance made
Of all his Lands, for hee observes the time
Apt to take notice of a rich-man's crime;
Which to prevent, he thought to take this course,
That He who beg'd his state might fare the worse;
Yet I'm resolv'd, as widows teares and cryes,
Sent from their voice and from their dolefull eyes

6

Seldome returne without revenge from high,
Like feathers in the ayre his state will fly
From his deputed Heir, and so decline
From him and his unto another line.
Yet this I wish not, but would rather see
His Seed succeed in their posteritie,
That grand-oppression, that same crying sin,
May ne'r survive in his, but die in him;
So shall that name which he deserved here
Appear like ashes scatt'red here and there.
Now Eyes what see you? Is the grate so straite
As yee can see no object? Yes, deceite
In every corner doth encounter mee,
Men bee and seem not, seem what least they bee;
For be it Courtier that I eye, whose sense
Consists in Sent and Sycophants pretence,
I find no part in him of that esteeme
To prove him same he outwardly doth seeme;
For where He lives it is the only fashion
To gull the simple with a Protestation:
His life is formal wholy, and he owes
Far less to substance then he doth to showes.
Or be it Citizen, though he protest
The wares he shews you first are still the best,
Because he knows you're of so brave a mind,
The choice you make is best, that you can find;
Yet some evasion still he hath in store
To gull you now as he hath done before:
Wherfore believe him not although you grieve him,
For you deceive your self if you beleeve him.

7

Or be it Country-man, whose simple seeming
Would in opinion cleer him of misdeeming,
Yet in his cottage hath he learn'd this art,
To make his Tongue a stranger to his Heart;
So as all States this maxim learned have,
Hee cannot live that knows not to deceive.
Thus may you see, though I bee lodged here,
Where scarce one glimpse of Sun-light may appear,
That I have sundry objects to employ mee,
Which somtimes, I confess, so over-joy me,
As they in mee leave such impressions after,
That to my self I'm oft enforc'd to laughter.
Nor can your eyes dart half so far as mine
In the survey of this corrupted time,
For were the Curtains ne're so closely spread
Where Livia with her Drusus wantoned,
The Coach close shut, the eyes of men to dim,
Yet know thus much, she is so light within,
As shee no more her wantonness can cover,
Then if she only had heav'ns arch above her.
 

An easie Inquest of Inquiry may informe the ingenious Reader touching this discovery.

Now to my second-Sense, if you'll draw neere,
I will make known unto you what I heare,
I heare, and by no mean intelligence,
That Barbicon is troubled with the French,
And are made famulists, as some suppose,
Because they speak so strangely through the nose:
But I do heare more serious news than these,
And you shall hear them briefly, if you please.

8

I heare of One who hath been long pent up,
And, with his Ladie drunke of sorrows cup,
For som egregious crime at first committed,
With punishment injoyn'd them, as befitted,
Are to be freed now and quite released,
As if both blood and Whoordom were appeased
By som few yeers restraint! But I do know
Superior pow'rs will grieve it should be so;
For tell me, can that liberty be given
On earth, which never was allow'd by heav'n?
Shall Naboths blood cry for revenge and have it?
Shall Abels cry for vengeance and receive it?
Shall snarling Curs, as sacred stories tell,
Lick up the blood of wicked Jezebel,
To shew how ev'ry creature seems to smother
Their just revenge, whose hand's deep dipt in murther?
And shall These purchase freedom, or obtain
Such favor to review the light again?
Shall Barbarous Nations, where did nere appeare
That glorious light which shews her beauty here,
Enact such Laws, injoyn such punishment
On persons that are held incontinent?
Shall savage beasts, who measure their delight
By satisfying of their appetite,
Hate to partake in love with more than one,
And either live with that or live with none?
Shall ayrie birds so sort them to their make,
That they will sooner die then they will take
Themselves to others? Yea, shall every creature
Perform the proper office of their nature?

9

And shal man, fraight wth knowledg & with reason,
Act against God and Nature such high treason?
No, Heav'ns forbid; what once was said, say I,
Wee have a Law, they by the Law should dy.
Yet if compassion move you to assent
To give them all their life time to repent,
(As ten lives were too little for such crimes)
Send them not forth to these depraved times,
But guard them close, as Lepers kept have been
Causing them cry aloud, Wee are unclean.
But this report I scarcely can beleeve it,
I will addresse mee elsewhere then, and leave it.
I heare a noble spirit that's compos'd
Of all Heroick actions lies inclos'd
In straitest durance; thus much sure I am,
Howsoe're his cause be, hee 's a Noble-man,
And one who may redeeme the time is past,
And by his Prince as well as others grac't,
For nere did any one more hopes inherit,
Or by descent express more native spirit.
But I doe heare a Marriage like to bee,
Which hath procur'd this Lord his libertie;
What doe I heare? Marriage his freedom get
No, rather he by Marriage loseth it;
For how can married-men their freedom get,
When never any was his own man yet?
But if his ayms be such, all hap betide
This lively Martialist and lovely Bride
Shee, to retain his love at any rate,
Hee, to regain his love with Prince and State.

10

Nor do I feare, but when deserts are known,
Some shall mount high, who have been long kept down
For carpet-honour still the bayes must yeeld
To that which valour gains him in the field.
For tell me, tell me, you perfumed Squires,
Nere scorch'd with powder but licentious fires;
You, whose perfection doth consist in this,
To complement a wanton for a kiss,
And glorie more in such a bootie gain'd
Then if you had a richer prize obtain'd;
What could you doe, if you were to resort,
Leaving Loves charmes, to raze some stately Fort
Or grapple with som daring enemy
To fight or fall, no other remedy?
Sure, I perswade mee, you would little care
For Bracelets twisted with your Mistresse-haire;
You would forget your congies, your salutes,
Fingring and quav'ring on your sweet tun'd Lutes
And learn to tosse a Pike, and speak in thunder,
To make your unknown-valour seem a wonder:
But, I much feare me, this were hard to do,
When you should fight, you would begin to woo,
And sue for peace on any terms you could,
Than gain renown, as noble spirits should.

11

How happy were I, if I might but heare
All you sweet-sented-Gallants lodged there
In Albion's peacefull court, to bee prest over
And see each made a Souldier of a Lover!
What sad adieus would young don Phœbo take,
And kiss the ground for his Amicla's sake?
What heavy news were this to Cinna's eare,
To lose the presence of her spritely Clere?
What griefe would this bee to that new-wed-Lord,
Who on my conscience ne're unsheath'd his Sword?
When hee must leave his nuptial-sheets scarce warm
With his delicious Dinah, and goe arm
Those tender civet-corps, who never bore
Arms, but what Nature stor'd him with, before?
Zlid, I do think, should they receive command
To hoyse up Saile for Brabant out of hand,
The rumor of these news would be so bad,
As many of our younkers would run mad,
At least (like Ithacus) would feign them so
If so they might excused be to go.
For 'las! so long hath this same golden dream
Of Peace surviv'd, they know not what wars mean;
Restie their arms, their armour rustie too,
And if they durst fight, yet they know not how.
But be there no rare Corants thou hear'st more
Related neere thy grate? Yes, there be store,
Yet none so much perplex mee, as to heare
The fall of One who once the State did steere,
And was thought worthy to enjoy his place,
Till profuse followers brought him to disgrace.

12

Of whom, Some say, he so corrupt hath bin,
It were a sin to shed one teare for him;
Yet, in respect of merit, I lament
That hee who was of such accomplishment,
Yea a combiner (as hee seem'd to me)
Of humane-learning and Nobilitie,
Should shew himself so weake as to delight
More in preferring of his Favorite,
Than in discharge of th' office where He sate,
Or to support the ruines of his State;
For worser name nev'r any one did git
To reape so little benefit by it.
But there is somthing more than his disgrace
That moves mee to compassionate his case,
And it is this; to note how others bee
Tax'd for as high and heavy crimes as hee:
For his to such a number nev'r did mount,
Yet who dare call these State-moaths to account;
Hee must be censur'd, these may live secure,
Pill Church and State to keep their hands in ure,
Suck Orphans blood, drain tears from widows-eyes,
And fill both heav'n and earth with shriks & cries,
Joyn land to land, like priviledged men,
They wipe their mouths and say, Who seeeth them?
'Las none! Who dare do't? They may be allow'd
To do what ere they list, and in a Cloud
Walk as unseen, for very few there bee
That see their hatefull crimes, dare say they see.
Now, for my life, I cannot see the cause
Why this should be, unlesse they have the Laws

13

Under their girdle, meaning to draw blood
Not from themselves, but where they hold it good,
Which cannot be; So might I justly tax
The Law it self to bee a nose of wax:
Wherefore I cannot think this is the matter,
For God forbid that Laws should learn to flatter,
But I doe rather judge the case so stands,
They make their peace with great-ones under hand
Whose awfull count'nance is the only cause
To stay the execution of our Lawes.
If this be so! O yee who injure most
This peacefull State, heare my incensed Ghost,
Who like a Fury haunts you; cease for shame,
To lay upon your honours such a staine!
You should be like to Beacons on a hill
To give your Country notice of what ill
So ev'r assail's her, and by your wise care
Divert all dangers that might happen there.
You should be like to Pilots to direct
Our Ship of State, lest some should intercept
Our hopefull commerce, which (I heard last day
Ev'n through my grate) was faln to great decay,
So troubled were the Seas as none would venter
Their goods, because the Ports were hard to enter.
Yea, upon serious conf'rence I did heare
A rich french-Merchant on his Conscience sweare
That by one loss which hee of late sustain'd,
He lost more wealth then he three yeers had gain'd.
You should be like the Sun, to cleer the mist
Of each slie state-exacting Alchimist,

14

State-Politician, base Monopolist,
Church-peace-disturbing-factious Novelist:
To these, like Resoms, it is your behoof
To shew your selves, to sweep them from the roof
Of Albions speciall Palace; for this Crue
Are not to have least countenance from you:
You should be like bright Lamps, light to bestow
Both on your selves, and upon others too;
Upon your selves, that you may patterns seeme,
Adding unto your Honor an esteeme;
On others too, that they may take a view
Of what is good by taking note of you.
You should be Starrs in this same darkesome night
Where many walk in blindness, few in light;
That by the light which your examples give,
You may procure you love, teach them to live;
For many Batts we have and Night Owles too
Doe more by night, than they by day dare doe;
These are of Beliall, the sons of night,
For wicked men doe ever hate the light,
As those who are sworn vassals to the Devill,
“Hating the light because their works are evil.
And what are these, but of that forlorne tribe
Who will dispence with conscience for a bribe,
So't be in secret, sell the Orphans right,
Oppresse the succourless by th'arm of might,
Divide the Stake, and share in others State,
As an occasion I did hear of late.
“Three youths, all Brethren, when death had bereft then
“Of their deer Father, who good portions left then

15

“Amounting to nine hundred pound in all,
“Some legacies discharg'd, which were but small,
“Were by some friends, who wish'd their welfare, mov'd
“To take their Fathers Will, & get it prov'd.
“Along they went, and unto One they came,
“Who had authority to prove the same;
One, who with long connivencie had made
“His place a Stale and mercenary Trade:
“The Will he reads, and somtimes questions them,
“To try if they were understanding men;
“Which had he found, without'en more adoe
“I am resolv'd He had not us'd them so:
“But he observing that they were but weake
“Thought not to slip th'occasion he might take
“To benefit himself, no matter how,
“And thus he gull'd, and satisfied them too.
“Young men (quoth he) I have survey'd your state,
“But I must tell you, 'tis so intricate,
“As I protest, I either have no skill,
“Or I ne're saw a more defective Will;
“But leave your names recorded by my man,
“Som sev'n-night hence I'll do you th'good I can.
“Thus as he wish'd, for that time he dispatcht them
“By means of wch delay, hark how he catcht them.
“The matter, as he thought, might first be driven
“By them to whom the Legacies were given,
“With whom he dealt so cunningly, as they
“Either for feare or profit gave him way;
“On which foundation he his project reares,
“Extracting treasures from the Orphans teares.

16

“For when the time came, they repair'd unto him
“Expecting th'good he promised to do them,
“But th'Copy of his countenance was chang'd,
“His meer-pretended promises estrang'd,
“As one remorsless of the state of men,
“For in this manner he accosted them:
“Since you were with mee, I perceive in Law
“This Will you brought is sarcely worth a straw,
“For it relation hath unto some other
“Which you out of your cunning seek to smother.
“But for as much as I doe hereby gather,
“There was affection born you by your father,
“Both in respect of nature and of blood,
“Whereby I think he meant to doe you good;
“I will perswade effectualy with these
“To whom your Fathers Will grants Legacies,
“And who, for ought that yet to mee appears,
“May claime as much as you that are his Heirs,
“First, that all suits and differences might cease,
“And you to have a hundred pound a peece.
“Which, simple soules (for little did they know
“Their own estate) they condescended to,
“Whereby he gain'd, as I have heard it said,
“Five hundred pounds, all Legacies defraid.
Now was not this a brave Probationer
To keep a Register for Lucifer?
Could one devise an apter instrument
Those sullied wares of Machivell to vent
Than this Impostor, this Egyptian Rat,
Whom I have seen both whoop'd & houted at.

17

And must he live uncensur'd, and remain,
As if his spotless life were free from stain?
Must hee enjoy his Place as he hath done,
And hug oppression as he hath begun?
Must he be cap'd and congi'd where you meet him,
When, on my conscience, I had rather beat him?
Must hee retain opinion and esteem.
Yes; What's the reason? He has to redeem
The name he lost; With what? With lads of gold;
Why then is reputation bought and sold.
Alas for griefe, that gold should find a cover
To case vice in, and so to gild it over!
O so to gild is, but to gull the eyes,
And force poore virtue lend her robe to vice!
Had hee by order been a Benedict,
And of such crying crimes as these convict,
He should have heard of nothing but confusion,
Till he had made a threefold restitution.
Had hee, who thus from Justice did decline,
Us'd such corruption in Severus time,
Were he the greatest man within his Court,
Selling his people smoke, had smoked for't;
Or borne the highest sway in Xerxes dayes,
And fed his Client-Subjects with delayes;
Hee had been sure, as in his life appeares,
To have his hatefull skin pul'd ore his eares:
Yet has this got a Pardon, and much more,
By an imposed fine beg'd long before;
For this same worldly wise oppressing Hammon,
Hath made him friends by his unrighteous Māmon,

18

Fore-seeing well he stood on such false ground
His naughty cause would force him to compound
Whence there appears great wrong, for it is sed
Such have his Fine as nere were injured.
The poore-ones suffer, and their wrongs express,
But all their cries can get them no redress:
Which if our Prince (so gracious is he) knew
Hee'd cause him make what restitution's due,
And feed none such in their unbounded riot,
Who with their surfeits doe the State disquiet.
But see, by talking of these corrupt Benches
I'de like to have forgot three of my Senses;
Nor were't a wonder, Some by being crost
In course of Justice all their Senses lost:
Well might I then forget my Senses too,
Having with unjust men so much to doe;
But I have heard more than I meane to tell,
My Eare is clos'd, now must I to my Smell.
 

When this Poem was first composed, this noble personage whom the Author intendeth, was not to Libertie restored, nor his Nuptialls as then solemnized. Now since decased, and withall martiall renoun interred in the bed of honour.

This Sense in mee doth such delight begit,
As Mines of Treasures shall not purchase it;
In every secret corner of my Grate,
I can Smell some abuses in the State.
Here one both great, and of as strong a savor,
By going brisk and neate creepes into favor;
Another holds concurrence with the time,
And hee will fall before he will not clime.
Here a brave spritely Youth, who, as they say,
Was but a Ladies page the other day,

19

And (such was femal bounty) liv'd upon her,
Refines my Smell with his perfumed honor.
There one who hath more worship farr then wit,
And more estate than pate to mannage it.
Here one, a lovely Lady in her time,
Paints to repaire those Lillies that decline,
Who old in yeeres, but youthfull in desire,
Cold in the pulse, but hot in fancies fire:
And her I Smell, for though her face be dyed
With purest colours, she is Mortified:
No Saint, yet earthly sented, for her breath
Proves she is mortall, and must cope with death.
But who coms here? I smel one neer approaching;
What Madam would doe, all the day long Coaching?
I know her well, shee doth a Husband want,
And's held the only choice Court-visitant
For feminine discourse, though now and then
She talks so broad, she'd shame a thousand men.
How far this Dame is out of knowledg growne
Some ten yeeres since shee came but to the town
With a french fidler and sung northern jigs,
And after sold false Tyres and Periwigs:
The very first inventresse of Goats haire,
Ceruse from Venice and adultrate ware;
Besides shee purchas'd of a Jew of late
A fucus for the face at such a rate,
As had Some Ladies nere desir'd to try it
And paid well for't, shee had been loser by it
Yet howsoere this Maquerella trade
She's tane in Court and City for a maid,

20

Though I suspect, for I have heard it said,
Shee stood in neede once of Lucina's ayd:
But shee is now grown great, what matter then,
If Lais-like shee cope with twenty men?
For there is none held now in all our Nation
So fit to give young Ladies education,
So gracefull in her carriage and discourse,
Though vertue say, shee never heard a worse;
For shee whom vertue guides, will never seeke
With shop-bought beauty to adorn the cheeke.
But 'zlid who's this smels in my nose so rank?
Pandora that same Lady Mountebank;
Who keeps a Catalogue of all diseases,
And choice receits, to cure them as shee pleases;
Besides Provocatives shee has such plenty,
Her well-frequented Shop is never empty.
If an affection to a wench should move you,
Shee has a powder too will cause her love you:
Are you by night time troubled with the Mare?
About your great toe shee will ty a haire:
Or subject unto dreaming? shee'll assure you
She has a soveraign oyle will throughly cure you:
Or pain'd with aches? shee has, in her pack,
A Balm that cur'd one tortur'd on the Rack:
Or hyde-bound? she has by her such a Stone
As it hath pow'r to raise the skin from bone:
Shee has a water, that in little space,
Will take away all wrinkles from the face,
Renue the blood, refresh a wasted brain,
And, like Medæas charme, bring youth again.

21

And if you would beleeve what she'll relate,
Shee'll tell you of a cure shee wrought of late,
Upon a great and noble person too,
Who struck in age, yet had a mind to woo
A fresh young girle; but he thought the sight
Of his white-haires would dash his motion quite:
Which to prevent, hee to this Artist came,
Who by receits as quickly cur'd the same;
Within four daies all his white-haires were reft him,
Which I beleeve, for not a hayre was left him.
Briefly, for all cures shee so far surpasses,
Galen and Paracelsus were but Asses
Compar'd to her, sith there be greater store
Of Maladies then have been heretofore;
When nationall diseases that did show
Their dire effects to some one place or two,
Are now grown universall; for since than,
French, Dutch, Italian, Neopolitan,
Have sought unto our Coast their Sores to carry;
Where they are grown in time hereditary.
But who is this I sent? A sack of dust
And mouldred ashes, yet as full of lust,
As if her stirring blood begun to melt
With thought of youth, and nere had winter felt.
Has she no Husband? me thinks she should stir him;
Shee has a Husband, but she cares not for him.
Those that are chaste affect no choice, but shee
Would surfeit, had shee not varietie:
So strong 's her appetite, that in her plenty,
She glories more then if shee were but twenty;

22

“Such sweetness brings sins custom, as once in,
“Delight in Sin, removes all sense of Sin.
More do I smell, for I am not invited,
But with my Smelling only am delighted;
A solemn bride-pie, which upon my life
Is for that fox-furd Burgomasters wife
Now gone to marry, and has hope to breed,
Yet has not one sound tooth in all her head:
So as this youth struts by his old Trots side;
For all the world like Battus with his Bride.
But stand; for see his Crest displaid in paste,
One who nere lov'd the church, to church doth haste
To spouse his youthfull Bride, whom, as 'tis said,
Hee in her Husbands life time formalled;
Whose corpse scarce cold, no nor the poorest worm
Entred his coffin, nor his shroud-sheet torn,
His Obits done or funeral-torch burn't out,
But shee's so hot, shee needs must go unto 't:
Where arm in arm and cheeke to cheeke they meete
Leaving her dead Lord to his winding-sheete.
Whence I conclude, as Sexton once did cry
With a loud voice to such as passed by,
“How short 's a womans grief, within three daies,
“Rosemary sprigs are turn'd to gilded Bayes!
Thus may you see when I no Flow'rs may take,
Of Weeds for need I can a posie make
And smell them too, although they give no Sent
To cheere my Sense or tender her content.
But men that are restrain'd of liberty
Must make a virtue of necessity,

23

For unto choicer Gardens those may goe,
And I'll not say but they may gather too
Far choicer Flowr's, who never were restrain'd
Then wee who are from common ayre detain'd.
Yet in this grate, although I be no Cat,
I can as quickly see and smell a Rat,
As hee who may have liberty to range
From Court to th' Burse, from Cheapside to th' Exchange:
For it's not Liberty that gives man sight,
Unlesse hee use that Liberty aright.
For Some will see more in the darkest Cave
Than other Some who greatest freedom have;
Yea I may sweare, since I was here confin'd,
How ere my eyes bee, I've a cleerer mind.
But hast thou nothing to delight thy Smell?
But such rank weeds as these that sent not well?
Hast thou no flowers, thy cloyed Sense to please,
But such unsavery Mugweed slips as these?
Yes, I have flowr's and odors too which give
Soul-solacing refreshment where I live:
But these are such as shall not be made known,
Lest by these weeds they should be overgrown,
Who from their loathed lives cast such a steem,
As with their venom they might poyson them,
Which to prevent, prevention must be us'd,
Another proper Subject I have chus'd
Now to discourse on, yet I will not waste
Much time in satisfying of my taste;
For that were sensuall, and would discover
I were no Pris'ner but some brain-sick Lover,

24

Who by his wanton mistresse task'd to more
Then he could do, his spirit to restore,
Feeds on all dainties, that he strong might grow
Both in himself and for his mistresse too.
How should I taste ought well, since I am place
Where I can relish nothing but distaste?
For here in this vast Cave where I doe live,
My very Consorts no contentment give:
Not the least beame of comfort shines upon me,
But like the Plague-sore all my friends do shun mee.
The language of rude officers beside,
Whose base condition sticks not to deride
My hard mishap, and twit mee to my face,
Saying, my wit brought mee to this disgrace.
When feeble nature craves some small repast,
Though I be hungrie, I had rather fast;
For my weake stomach cannot well digest
The meate I have so sluttishly addrest.
Which makes me muse and wonder much at these,
Who waste their state in superfluities,
Storing their luscious Epicureall boord
With forain cakes to feast some forain Lord;
Who will accept their love, as well hee may,
And, with a french shrug, laugh and go his way.
Now by my hopes, there's nought distasts me wors,
Then see a grand gull thus abuse his purse,
To gratifie a Mounseur and his trayne,
Whom hee perchance shall never see againe.

25

For this Vitellian Lord, that he may please
That great-mans palat with varieties
Of all delicious meats, by Land and Sea
Sends his Purveiors out, who stor'd must be
What e're provision cost them, 'tis no matter,
Their Lord will sell his Land to fish the water.
Yet it is brave to sport and spend the time
In luscious fare, choice consorts, and rich wine;
To take delight in meats that best do please,
Fill Poland Salmons full of ambergreece;
And like that Prince of prodigall expence,
To please his Humor rather then his Sense,
When far from Sea, would only feed on fish,
But neer the Sea, made flesh his only dish.
To revell unto midnight, and come home
A sleepie Sibarite, a heavie drone:
Next day addresse himselfe to some new taske,
As make a set speech to his mistresse maske;
Go see a Play, and when each Act doth end,
Rise from his Stoole to commune with his friend,
Of purpose to induce those that sit neer
To think it's State that they discourse of there;
When 'las, poor Stage-gulls, they'r so far from that,
As they ne're knew what such things aymed at:
Then to make choice where they will sup that night
And make their life a progresse of delight.
Next day invite some honorable guest,
A favorite, or follower at least,
To make the world take notice of him then,
That hee'll grow great by means of such great men.

26

Or at his own charge some Court-shew to frame,
And make the Ladies think it was his braine
That did contrive it, when, Some neer him know it,
His purse and not his pate did play the Poet.
Or in his entertainment of some State,
Make Gonduits run with Rhenish at his gate.
True; this is brave indeed and princely too,
Which Some may better far then others doe,
Who racket it abroad and keep a table
Free for all commers, when they are unable
To feed themselves; the Cock on hoop is set
Hoping to drink their Lordships out a debt.
I heard of late a Millener complaine
Of a great Lord that's prodigally vaine,
Who run upon his score within three quarters,
Five hundred pounds, for sho-ties, points & garters;
Yet runs he on and feeds him with delay,
And eyther cannot pay or will not pay.
Yet is his mind good, for he doth afford
A gracefull presence and a gratefull word
Where ere he stands engag'd, & it doth grieve him
To be so long in debt, if they'll believe him.
But th' Suite, thus he pretends, he last obtain'd
(And this's his grief) comes short of that he aim'd,
Or else hee's out of cash, or who collects
His rents, detains them more then hee expects.
But howsoere hee shroud it with his wit,
Nor this nor that is any cause of it;
“His luscious palat and delicious Cook
Withhold him from discharging of the Book.

27

His many Items daily so much spend him,
As eyther must some Patentees defend him,
Or all his ancient Manors are forgone,
Which may be soone, for he had never none,
Only some few he got since he came hither,
Which with himselfe are shrinking both together.
But stay; me thinks there's nought distasts me more
Than to behold a rude uncivil Bore
Whom nurture, nor good nature ever had,
Whose father liv'd by nought but selling Woad,
By means of better fortune to obtaine
More grace then men of more deserts may gaine;
His honor is his purchase, and his fate
To raise himself to greatnesse by his state:
For merit who esteems it? When men crave
To know not what we are, but what we have?
Now by those hopes I have of future blisse,
There's nothing mads me half so much as this;
For who can brook to see a groundling rise
To titles of such honor and high prize,
Doing no worthy act in all his time,
Unlesse it were the gelding of a Swine,
As I heard once a mad-conceited Jig,
Of one made Knight for rosting of a Pig:
And Dietloph Brand obtain'd (some say) as much
With Rostock Beare who overthrew the Dutch.
Which story made me laugh, for on a time
A boon-Companion and a friend of mine
Telling this tale, one of a light conceit
(Which made the jest more full) replied streight

28

By thus retorting it; Now by this light,
I wonder much why you'r not made a Knight;
For if to healths such knightly vailes befall,
You's drinke a health with any of them all.
But to the purpose; though I force a smile,
I'd rather mone th'abuses of our Ile.
Again, to see those who have well deserv'd,
How they can shew their warlike bodies carv'd,
Their arms disjoynted, or their legs cut off,
Yet for all this rewarded with a scoff;
Their service wants least solace, for our Peace
Makes us conceive small pitty toward these:
Yet their designes were glorious, and the cause
For which they fought deserv'd no lesse applause,
But see their end, for all the time they serv'd,
The most of these are eyther hang'd or starv'd.
Now to propose some due reward to these,
Nought were more fit, if it the State would please,
Than to injoyne the miserable Chrone
(I meane the usurous oppressing one)
Whose only sport it is, and recreation,
To see a dearth of grain in all our Nation;
Who grates, regrates, grinds and engrosseth all,
Laughs when our markets rise, grives when they fall,
Who will not sell his Corn if men should die;
But stops his eare against their ruthfull crye:
Then to injoyn (I say) his stonie heart,
Some portion of his substance to impart
To a deserving Souldier, and know
My reason's this why I would have it so.

29

This earth-adoring and admiring wretch,
Who craves no more then that he may be rich,
Lives safe at home, his family attend him,
But all this while the Souldier doth defend him:
Snayle-like at home hee ever makes aboad,
And little feels the dangers are abroad;
While the encamped Souldier doth endure
The worst extremes the Miser to secure:
From sleep hee wakes, with noyse of least alarm,
Surveys the Campe, prevents ensuing harm;
Rampiers he reares, Fortes, Bulwarks, Palisadoes,
Mures, Countermures, stores his wel-rig'd Armadoes:
The key-cold ground, the field-bed, wher he rests him
Where not one minute but some fear molests him:
All which he beares with patience for this Elfe,
Who cares not who fall so he save himselfe.
Now ought not he to share in his encrease,
Who by his danger doth secure his peace?
Do wee not see each one relieve his Cur,
Who on the night-time barks and makes a stur
To shield his masters house from those would venter
But for fear of discovery, to enter?
And shall a Cur so kindly be entreated,
And a poor Souldier of his right defeated?
Can one delight so much a Cur to cherish.
And suffer one, endow'd with reason, perish?
Nor for my self do I this comfort seek,
For (as I think, I'm in for all the week)
Although perchance I have as great delight,
In a good cause, as any one to fight,

30

And would be loth to spare my dearest blood,
If shedding it might do my Countrey good:
But diverse means are form'd for diverse men,
Some are to fight with pike and some with pen;
Eyther of which requires aspirit stout,
To vanquish fiends within, or foes without.
But say, can neither eye, eare, taste, nor smell
Afford thee ought that may content thee well?
Can no choice object to thy eye appeare,
Nor no melodious accent to thy eare,
No fragrant perfume to refresh thy Scent
While thou art here in lists of thraldom pent;
No sense-affecting-solacing repast
That may delight or relish thy distast?
Can none of these thy drooping spirit cheere,
Or ease thy griefe while thou art lodged here?
Yes, yes, in every faculty I find
Somthing to give contentment to my mind;
For thus I argue; If these breed such loathing,
I must infer, on earth there can be nothing,
Bee't nere so pleasant-seeming or so moving,
That may in any measure merit loving.
Which to confirme, as I conceiv'd distast
In all those former Senses that are past,
Now, for my love I bear the Commonweale,
Heare but the griefs I for her sake do feele.
Much do I feele, for even my heart doth ake,
Not for my self, but for my Country sake,

31

Wherein ther's nought doth me so neerly touch
As to see great-men wrong the State so much.
For ther's no place, we heare not some of these
Tax'd and reprov'd for their Monopolies,
Which they will beg that they their turns may serve,
No matter though the common-people starve.
O age me thinks thou art distracted growne
To squeeze a whole State for advancing one
And what's that one? a profuse Rioter,
Who spends upon a painted Sepulcher
What ere he gains by begging; thus the poor
Are forced to maintain a great-mans whoor.
They want, he surfeits; they may pine and die,
Hee hears, but takes small pitty on their crie.
They crave one crum of comfort, he denies them,
And when he meets them, stops his nose & flies them,
He all enjoys whatso'ere may like him well,
And on his foot-cloth rides in state to Hell.
O yee high peering Mounts incline your ear
Unto the counsel of a Prisoner!
For do not think, although I be in thrall,
That I will humor any of you all;
I have not learn'd to flatter hitherto,
And I do scorn to take the trade up now.
But what's my counsell? Labour to deserve
Well of your Prince whom you are bound to serve,
Hate to inhance your State, or fill your purses
With wofull widows tears and poor-mens curses;
That gaine must needs be ill, be't more or lesse,
That's suck'd and strained from the fatherlesse.

32

Scorne to enrich your selves by others hate,
Or rayse your selves by razing of the State.
And for as much I heare that Some of you,
Which I protest doth much my grief renue,
Support your Followers in an unjust cause,
Against the course and tenure of the Laws;
So as they care not what they undertake,
Because they shall be favor'd for your sake:
Surcease for shame to countenance a wrong,
Either by Letter or perswasive tongue;
For there is nought on earth, right sure I am,
Detracteth more from any Noble-man,
Then with the brand of injury to stain him,
For love of any one that doth retain him.
For this such deep impression leavs behind it,
As on your graves succeeding times shall find it,
Where it will live long after you be dead,
And sprinkle hatefull poyson on your seed.
And you the reverend Judges of the Land,
Stand in defence of right whosoe're withstand
Your just proceedings, let no favor draw you,
Nor fear of any great-one over-aw you.
Doe you not think it were a shame to heare
Such men as you, who on your shoulders beare
The burden of the State, and should take care
To guard the Prince and those his Subjects are,
E're to decline from doing what is right,
For love, or lucre, enmity or might?
Patrons and Patterns you should be of truth,
To curbe the misdemeanors of our youth,

33

Whose unconfined wills are rather bent
To ill then good, unless they feel restraint:
But for as much as I have heard Some say,
That great-mens power hath ever born much sway
In Seates of Justice, which should be so pure,
As neither power could awe, nor love allure;
That you from course of Justice less may swerve
Observe the Rule which Cato did observe:
Who on a time, when he in judgement sat
Professing truth, the scope he aymed at,
Receiv'd a Letter, which in post-haste came
From One who was esteem'd a special man
Then in the State; addressed to this end,
To spare pronouncing judgement on his Friend.
But He, suspecting what th' contents might be,
Meant to prevent him by this Policie,
And that he might procede in judgment better,
First Sentenc'd him, and after read the Letter.
O then to all alike just judgement render
As you the safety of the State doe tender!
Grant great ones no exemption, who alledge
They may offend by writ of Priviledge;
But make them know, that you have pow'r to strike
(If they impugn the Law) all men alike.
This if you do, which Conscience bids you doe,
Good men will love, and ill men feare you too.
Yea God himself, who's present in your Court,
Sees your uprightness and shall bless you for't.
And you strife-stirring Lawyers, who have sold
Too oft your souls, more oft your tongues for gold,

34

Like some foule Leprosy my Muse would shun you
But that the State complaines so much upon you.
Eye your profession, and examine then
If you your selves be such condition'd men,
As both the State requireth at your hands
And with the form of your profession stands.
And what is this, but that you should take heed
What cause you take in hand, for whom you plead,
Whom you perswade, and with perswasion mad,
Saying their cause is good, when it is bad,
How you doe earne your fees? for some mens aym
Are by delayes to multiply their gaines:
For know, that you, who should judicious bee,
Are first to weigh the cause, then take your fee;
And if't be such a Cause 'twill bear no water,
Perswade your Client to compound the matter:
But if the cause be good, fall soundly to it,
And slight it not, for so you might undo it.
What shame were't then to see men of your Coat
Distemperd with a swelling in the throat:
A dangerous infectious disease,
Sprung from the practice of Demosthenes;
Whom the Milesians feeing on a time,
That to their cause he might the more incline,
Hee, when he should the matter fully break,
Had got the Squinancie, and could not speak.
O take you heed of this, lest God withhold
Speech from your tongues thus tipt and tide with Gold

35

And you the Gentry, who retaine the name,
But not the Worth, of those from whence you came
You, who should be life, hope, and all that's deere
Both to your selves, and such as neighbour neere,
Observe your ranke, and in your ranke so live,
As to your House you may no scandall give.
Alasse, for griefe, that ere it should be sed,
So many hopefull Plants are withered;
Such ancient houses, where reliefe was found
By way-beat Passengers, now raz't to ground
And whence comes this, but from improvidence,
Neglect of State, profusenese of expence?
So as me thinks, I heare poore earth complaine
And chide her brats for being so profane;
That th' antient badge of Hospitality,
Should be defac'd by prodigality;
Cloaths, made to cover shame, and colour sin,
Are now habilliments to glory in:
Meates, given to suffice nature, not delight,
Must satisfy our liqu'rish appetite:
Drinks, to refresh, times so distemper'd are,
Must drink down debt, apply a cure to care
Of which disorderd rank, I knew of late
A youth of faire and eminent estate;
Who in few yeares had his estate to seeke
from pissing Conduit that doth stand in Cheap
But in my judgement, there is none of these
Brings ruine to our ancient families,
So much as profane swearing, which doth call
Like that hand-writing showne upon the wall

36

For vengeance on them that the same do use,
“Gods curse must nere depart from swearers House.
And yet I see, and sigh to say I see,
How in this Land, where God should honour'd be
With duest praises, for her great increase
Of earthly blessings, and continued peace,
The Gentry of our Ile, should think no shame,
With new coin'd oaths to profane his name:
Which is their Parents fault, who so much love them,
That when they hear them swear they'l scarce reprove them:
Yea though they curse ere they be wean'd from tear,
And learne to sweare, before they learn to speak,
They must not be rebuk'd, but mark their ends,
And you'l conclude their Parents, their worst frends.
And you, deceitful Tradesmen, whose great'st care
Is to contrive dark shops, to vent false ware,
Scorne with injurious practise to deceive
Such as in you, their trust reposed have;
And day by day the Chandlers case remember,
As you the welfare of your necks do tender.
Lastly to you my Brethren, who by nature,
Are woodmen borne and gotten by a Satyre:
Examine ere you publish any line,
For I must tell you 'tis a dang'rous time;
The State is jealous, and will have an eye
On such wild-headed waggs as you and I.
Be warie then good Boyes, and have a care,
Least in my censure yee do likewise share,
Which could not chuse but turne to your disgrace
Besides your lothsom lodging in this place:

37

Where, trust me, though I doe not lye with any,
Spight of my teeth I goe to bed with many;
And which is strange, Backbiters have I more
Since I lay here then e're I had before.
But heark, while I am taxing others sin,
My fellows they are roaring now within;
I must withdraw; my Keeper he doth call,
And now my grate is shut; good-night to all.
Exit Spectrum
 

Αργυραγχη Σαυαγχη. Vid. Demost. apud Gellium, lib. 11. cap. 9. 82.