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Skialetheia

Or, A shadowe of Truth, in certaine Epigrams and Satyres [by Edward Guilpin]
Guilpin, Edward

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[section]
  
To the Reader.
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EPIGRAMS.
 1. 
Proœmium. 1.
 2. 
To the Reader. 2.
 3. 
Of Titus. 3.
 4. 
To Liuia. 4.
 5. 
Of Matho. 5.
 6. 
Of Faber. 6.
 7. 
Of a railing humour. 7.
 8. 
To Deloney. 8.
 9. 
Of Paule. 9.
 10. 
Of Syluio. 10.
 11. 
To Gue. 11.
 12. 
Of Cotta. 12.
 13. 
Of the same. 13.
 14. 
To Licus. 14.
 15. 
Of Zeno. 15.
 16. 
Of Riuus. 16.
 17. 
Of Clodius. 17.
 18. 
Of Curio. 18.
 19. 
Of Faustus. 19.
 20. 
To Candidus. 20.
 21. 
Of Procus. 21.
 22. 
To Clodius. 22.
 23. 
Of Sextilius. 23.
 24. 
Of Fuscus. 24.
 25. 
Of Gnatho. 25.
 26. 
To Pollio. 26.
 27. 
Of the same. 27.
 28. 
Of Zeno. 28.
 29. 
Of Arion. 29.
 30. 
Of Chrysogonus. 30.
 31. 
Of Torques. 31.
 32. 
Of Lais. 32.
 33. 
Of Fidens. 33.
 34. 
Of Orpheus. 34.
 35. 
Of Cotta. 35.
 36. 
Of Metius. 36.
 37. 
Of the same. 37.
 38. 
To Licus. 38.
 39. 
Of Chrestina. 39.
 40. 
Of Næuia. 40.
 41. 
Of the same. 41.
 42. 
Of the same 42.
 43. 
Of Clodius. 43.
 44. 
Of Phrix. 44.
 45. 
In Zelotypum. 45.
 46. 
Of Gellia. 46.
 47. 
To the Reader. 47.
 48. 
To Lydia. 48.
 49. 
To Cotta. 49.
 50. 
To Women. 50.
 51. 
Of Chrestina. 51.
 52. 
Of Pansa. 52.
 53. 
Of Cornelius. 53.
 54. 
Of Issa. 54.
 55. 
To Mira. 55.
 56. 
De Ignoto. 56.
 57. 
Of Nigrina. 57.
 58. 
Of Drus. 58.
 59. 
To Mira. 59.
 60. 
De Ignoto. 60.
 61. 
Of Nigrina. 61.
 62. 
Of the same. 62.
 63. 
Of Bassus. 63.
 64. 
To Mira. 64.
 65. 
Of Nigrina. 65.
 66. 
Of Gellia. 66.
 67. 
Ad Crocum. 67.
 68. 
Of Cæius. 68.
 69. 
To the Reader. 69.
 70. 
Conclusion to the Reader. 70.
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Conclusion to the Reader. 70.

(Reader) when thou hast read this mad-cap stuffe,
Wherein my Muse swaggers as in her ruffe:
I know these Orphants shal be soone renounced,
Of euery one, and vnto death denounced:
I know thow'lt doome them to th' Apotheta,
To wrap Sope in, and Assifœtida:
And iustly to: for thou canst not misuse,
More then I will, these bastards of my Muse:
I know they are passing filthy, scuruey lines,
I know they are rude, harsh, and vnsauory rimes:
Fit to wrap playsters, and odd vnguents in,
Reedifiers of the wracks of Synne.
Viewing this sin-drownd vvorld, I purposely,
Phisick'd my Muse, that thus vnmannerly,
She might beray our folly-soyled age,
And keepe Decorum on a comick stage,
Bringing a foule-mouth Iester vvho might sing
To rogues, the story of the lousie King.
I care not vvhat the vvorld doth think, or say,
There lies a morral vnder my leane play:

And like a resolute Epigrammatist,
Holding my pen, my Rapier in my fist:
I know I shall vvide-gaping Momes conuince.
My Muse so armed is a carelesse Prince.
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