The Times' Whistle Or A Newe Daunce of Seuen Satires, and other Poems: Compiled by R. C., Gent. [i.e. Richard Corbett]. Now First Edited from Ms. Y. 8. 3. in the Library of Canterbury Cathedral: With introduction, notes, and glossary, By J. M. Cowper |
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Satira 2. [AGAINST SHAMS.] |
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 | The Times' Whistle |  |
22
Satira 2. [AGAINST SHAMS.]
Argumentum.
Fronti nulla fides, ludunt spectacula mentem;Non facies verum symptoma cordis habet.
Decipimur specie recti, sub imagine veri
Falsa latent; virtus dissimulata placet.
The brave erect Mausolian monument,
That famous vrne, the worlds seventh wonderment,
Whose sumptuous cost & curious workemanship
Noe poet, though in Helicon he dip
His pen, by verse is able to dilate,
Being made for wonder, not to imitate;
For all his glorious outside, without staine,
Filth & corruption doth within containe.
The sunne, whose spacious orbe in magnitude
Doth far exceed the earth, seemes to the rude,
Ignorant of the astronomicke art,
Noe bigger then the wheel of Hobnols cart.
Counterfet gold, if we doe trust our eye,
Will passe for purest mettall currantlie.
The dredfull beast, yclepèd crocodile,
Whose dwelling is about Ægiptian Nile,
Before he doth devoure his wishèd prey,
Pitty in outward semblance doth display;
For brinish teares from his false eyes distill,
When he is ready to destroy & kill.
Full dear seafaring passengers abie
The Syrens sweet enchaunting melodie,
Which by their singing evermore presage
Death thretning danger by the furious rage
Of an ensuing storme. Of Circes cup
Who hath not heard, that who therof did sup
Was changd (strange metamorphosis in nature)
From humane forme into a brutish creature?
And yet the cup [w]as goodly to beholde,
Richly enchasde with pearle, composde of golde.
That famous vrne, the worlds seventh wonderment,
Whose sumptuous cost & curious workemanship
Noe poet, though in Helicon he dip
His pen, by verse is able to dilate,
Being made for wonder, not to imitate;
For all his glorious outside, without staine,
Filth & corruption doth within containe.
The sunne, whose spacious orbe in magnitude
Doth far exceed the earth, seemes to the rude,
Ignorant of the astronomicke art,
Noe bigger then the wheel of Hobnols cart.
Counterfet gold, if we doe trust our eye,
Will passe for purest mettall currantlie.
The dredfull beast, yclepèd crocodile,
Whose dwelling is about Ægiptian Nile,
Before he doth devoure his wishèd prey,
Pitty in outward semblance doth display;
23
When he is ready to destroy & kill.
Full dear seafaring passengers abie
The Syrens sweet enchaunting melodie,
Which by their singing evermore presage
Death thretning danger by the furious rage
Of an ensuing storme. Of Circes cup
Who hath not heard, that who therof did sup
Was changd (strange metamorphosis in nature)
From humane forme into a brutish creature?
And yet the cup [w]as goodly to beholde,
Richly enchasde with pearle, composde of golde.
Glorious in view appeard Medusaes head,
Nathlesse it did strike the beholders dead.
Serpents & poysnous toads, as in their bowers,
Doe closely lurke vnder the sweetest flowers.
But sencelesse things & sensuall beastes alone
Mislead not mans to rash opinion;
Even rationall creatures doe our iudgements cheat,
Man is to man a subject of deceite;
And that olde saying is vntrue, “the face
Is index of the heart.” False looking glasse
To view the thoughts of man, when there doe raine
Stormes of displeasure in mans vexèd braine;
When mists of sorrow reasons eyes doe blinde,
When revenge thunders in his ragefull minde,
His face can carry sunneshine of delight,
Allthough his soule be blacke as ougly night.
You erre, fond physiognomers, that hold
The inward minde followes the outward molde.
Philosophers, your axiome is vnsure,
The soule is as the bodies temperature;
Complexion noe certaine ground doth shew
The disposition of a man to know;
Els why should Nisus, that same pretty youth,
Be of soe lewd behaviour? when, in truth,
His bodies crasis is angelicall,
And his soules actions diabolicall.
Things are not as they seeme; for were they soe,
Detraction would professe himselfe my foe,
Shewing his rancors hate before my face,
And not behinde my backe worke my disgrace,
When in my presence he doth seem to be
As Damon to his Pithias, friend to me.
Nathlesse it did strike the beholders dead.
Serpents & poysnous toads, as in their bowers,
Doe closely lurke vnder the sweetest flowers.
But sencelesse things & sensuall beastes alone
Mislead not mans to rash opinion;
Even rationall creatures doe our iudgements cheat,
Man is to man a subject of deceite;
And that olde saying is vntrue, “the face
Is index of the heart.” False looking glasse
To view the thoughts of man, when there doe raine
Stormes of displeasure in mans vexèd braine;
When mists of sorrow reasons eyes doe blinde,
When revenge thunders in his ragefull minde,
His face can carry sunneshine of delight,
Allthough his soule be blacke as ougly night.
You erre, fond physiognomers, that hold
The inward minde followes the outward molde.
Philosophers, your axiome is vnsure,
The soule is as the bodies temperature;
Complexion noe certaine ground doth shew
The disposition of a man to know;
Els why should Nisus, that same pretty youth,
24
His bodies crasis is angelicall,
And his soules actions diabolicall.
Things are not as they seeme; for were they soe,
Detraction would professe himselfe my foe,
Shewing his rancors hate before my face,
And not behinde my backe worke my disgrace,
When in my presence he doth seem to be
As Damon to his Pithias, friend to me.
Mechanico, reputed by moste men
An honest tradesman & grave citisen,
When thou dost come into his shop to buy,
Although it be the least commodity,
With kind salutes & good wordes will receave thee;
But trust him not, in 's deeds he will deceave thee.
An honest tradesman & grave citisen,
When thou dost come into his shop to buy,
Although it be the least commodity,
With kind salutes & good wordes will receave thee;
But trust him not, in 's deeds he will deceave thee.
Madam Fucata seemeth wondrous faire,
And yet her face is painted, & her haire,
That seemes soe goodly, a false periwig.
Thus all her beauty is not worth a fig,
That doth appeare so glorious to the eye,
And strikes my gallant in loves lethurgie,
That soe doth boast of famous ancestry
And from great Iove derives his pedigree,
And speakes indeed, like Iove himselfe, in thunder;
For othes, as if they would rend heaven in sunder,
Shot out in vollies, like artillerie,
Flie from his mouth, that piece of blasphemie.
Like some great horse he paceth vp and downe,
Gracing his lookes with a disdainefull frowne,
And takes vpon him in each company,
As if he held some petty monarchy.
If any man by chance discourse of warre,
He being present this discourse will marre
By intermixing his high martiall deeds,
Swearing his manhood all mens else exceeds;
Vowing that his Herculean arme hath slaine
More men then populous London doth containe,
Except the subvrbs. He hath made to flie
The potent Turke, & got the victory
By his owne valour. Charles the Fift of Spaine
Was nothing to him, nor great Tamburlaine;
Stout Scanderbeg a childe; he paralels
Strong sinnewed Sampson, or, indeed, excels.
What dares he not performe? Hee 'l vndertake
To make the Spanniards vtterly forsake
The Westerne Indies & their mines of gold,
With some few chosen men; nay hee 'l vpholde
His force sufficient to reconquer Fraunce,
And with that kingdome once againe enhaunce
The faire revennewes of the English crowne,
Or lay their citties levell with the ground.
Hee 'l chase the Turke out of Hungaria,
And force him leave his seat in Grecia;
Europe hee 'l free from his vexation,
And bring againe that scattered nation,
The Iewes, together to their Palestine,
Which he by force will conquer, & confine
To his obeisaunce. These he dares be bolde,
And more then these, even acts that would make colde
The heartes of men only to hear recounted,
His martiall force, which Mars his force surmounted,
Shall vndertake. Thou vainly bragging foole,
Ne're trainèd vp in brave Bellonaes schoole,
Doe not I know, for all thou lookest soe big,
Thou never yet durst see a sillie pig
Stucke to the heart? A frog would make thee run!
Thou kill a man? No, no! thy mothers sonne,
Her only sonne, was a true coward bred.
I 'le vndertake a sword shall strike thee dead,
And never touch thee! As for thy discent,
Though thou maist boast the place was firtill Kent
That gave thee birth, yet was thy syre a clowne,
And kept his wife in a course homespun gowne;
Who, scraping vp a litle wealth, began
To fashion thee an ill shapd gentleman.
And now, because thou hast, like Coriate,
Traveld a litle ground, & canst relate
How many baudy houses thou hast seen
In the French country; how the whores have been
Kinder there to thee then our English punckes;
How many nunnes thou hast heard sing, & monckes
Say mattens; thou thyselfe dost now repute
The wort[h]iest wort[h]y of the race of Brute;
The rarest linguist England doth afford,
The bravest soldier that e're wore a sworde.
Vain vpstart braggadochio! heartlesse cow!
Leave Mars his drumme, goe holde thy fathers plow!
And yet her face is painted, & her haire,
That seemes soe goodly, a false periwig.
Thus all her beauty is not worth a fig,
That doth appeare so glorious to the eye,
And strikes my gallant in loves lethurgie,
That soe doth boast of famous ancestry
And from great Iove derives his pedigree,
And speakes indeed, like Iove himselfe, in thunder;
For othes, as if they would rend heaven in sunder,
Shot out in vollies, like artillerie,
Flie from his mouth, that piece of blasphemie.
Like some great horse he paceth vp and downe,
Gracing his lookes with a disdainefull frowne,
And takes vpon him in each company,
As if he held some petty monarchy.
If any man by chance discourse of warre,
He being present this discourse will marre
By intermixing his high martiall deeds,
Swearing his manhood all mens else exceeds;
Vowing that his Herculean arme hath slaine
25
Except the subvrbs. He hath made to flie
The potent Turke, & got the victory
By his owne valour. Charles the Fift of Spaine
Was nothing to him, nor great Tamburlaine;
Stout Scanderbeg a childe; he paralels
Strong sinnewed Sampson, or, indeed, excels.
What dares he not performe? Hee 'l vndertake
To make the Spanniards vtterly forsake
The Westerne Indies & their mines of gold,
With some few chosen men; nay hee 'l vpholde
His force sufficient to reconquer Fraunce,
And with that kingdome once againe enhaunce
The faire revennewes of the English crowne,
Or lay their citties levell with the ground.
Hee 'l chase the Turke out of Hungaria,
And force him leave his seat in Grecia;
Europe hee 'l free from his vexation,
And bring againe that scattered nation,
The Iewes, together to their Palestine,
Which he by force will conquer, & confine
To his obeisaunce. These he dares be bolde,
And more then these, even acts that would make colde
The heartes of men only to hear recounted,
His martiall force, which Mars his force surmounted,
Shall vndertake. Thou vainly bragging foole,
Ne're trainèd vp in brave Bellonaes schoole,
Doe not I know, for all thou lookest soe big,
Thou never yet durst see a sillie pig
Stucke to the heart? A frog would make thee run!
Thou kill a man? No, no! thy mothers sonne,
Her only sonne, was a true coward bred.
I 'le vndertake a sword shall strike thee dead,
And never touch thee! As for thy discent,
26
That gave thee birth, yet was thy syre a clowne,
And kept his wife in a course homespun gowne;
Who, scraping vp a litle wealth, began
To fashion thee an ill shapd gentleman.
And now, because thou hast, like Coriate,
Traveld a litle ground, & canst relate
How many baudy houses thou hast seen
In the French country; how the whores have been
Kinder there to thee then our English punckes;
How many nunnes thou hast heard sing, & monckes
Say mattens; thou thyselfe dost now repute
The wort[h]iest wort[h]y of the race of Brute;
The rarest linguist England doth afford,
The bravest soldier that e're wore a sworde.
Vain vpstart braggadochio! heartlesse cow!
Leave Mars his drumme, goe holde thy fathers plow!
Fine Mistris Simula, the Puritane,
Which as the plague shunnes all that are profane,
Ready to faint if she an oth but hear,
For all her outward holinesse doth blear
The worldes dimme eyes, plaies but the hypocrite,
Living in sinne & sensuall delight.
For, would you think it? she was tane in bed
With a young, tender, smoothfacd Ganimed,
Her husbands prentice. Out, lascivious whore!
Thy countries shame, thy husbands festered sore!
Are these the fruits thy frequentation
Of learned sermons yeilds? Is this the fashion
Of your pure seeming sect? Your meetings tend
Surely vnto some such like holy ende.
And yet the world, blinde world, thinkes you to be
Men of most zeale & best integrity.
Which as the plague shunnes all that are profane,
Ready to faint if she an oth but hear,
For all her outward holinesse doth blear
The worldes dimme eyes, plaies but the hypocrite,
Living in sinne & sensuall delight.
For, would you think it? she was tane in bed
With a young, tender, smoothfacd Ganimed,
Her husbands prentice. Out, lascivious whore!
Thy countries shame, thy husbands festered sore!
Are these the fruits thy frequentation
Of learned sermons yeilds? Is this the fashion
Of your pure seeming sect? Your meetings tend
Surely vnto some such like holy ende.
And yet the world, blinde world, thinkes you to be
Men of most zeale & best integrity.
Methinkes I see the rich chuffe, Sordido,
How basely in apparrell he doth goe;
Vpon his head a thrice turnd greasy felt,
His hose & dublet a tuffe ramskin pelt;
His stockings of the coursest woole yspunne,
Full of broad patches, with thicke hobnaild shoone;
His lockram bande sewde to his hempen shirt;
A lethern thong doth serve his wast to girt,
At which a pouch full 20 winters olde
Hangs for his codpiece to keep out the colde.
How hunger-starvd he lookes! With thin lank cheekes,
With beard vnkemd, with face fit soile for leekes,
I dare be sworne, who e'er should see the goat,
Would iudge him to be scarcely worth a groat.
And yet this boore, this miserable swine,
Hath landes & lordships, with good store of coine.
Slave to thy wealth, thus from thy selfe to rend
What thy next heir will soone as vainly spend!
27
Vpon his head a thrice turnd greasy felt,
His hose & dublet a tuffe ramskin pelt;
His stockings of the coursest woole yspunne,
Full of broad patches, with thicke hobnaild shoone;
His lockram bande sewde to his hempen shirt;
A lethern thong doth serve his wast to girt,
At which a pouch full 20 winters olde
Hangs for his codpiece to keep out the colde.
How hunger-starvd he lookes! With thin lank cheekes,
With beard vnkemd, with face fit soile for leekes,
I dare be sworne, who e'er should see the goat,
Would iudge him to be scarcely worth a groat.
And yet this boore, this miserable swine,
Hath landes & lordships, with good store of coine.
Slave to thy wealth, thus from thy selfe to rend
What thy next heir will soone as vainly spend!
Scotus, thou hast deceiud the world enough,
Which takes thee, clothd in thy embrodered stuffe,
To be some lord at least. Poore silly groome,
Which tother day wouldst faine have had the roome
Of some base trencher-scraper, so to put
Scraps twice runne over, in thy half starvd gutt.
And now, with often filling of the pot,
An office vnder my lords man hast got,
Being some bread-chipper or greasy cooke,
For much observance & respect dost looke.
Goe where thou wilt, thou gettest none of me.
I know too well thy genealogie.
Let ignorant asses bend their supple knees,
And cry, “God blesse your worship,” for some fees
Of thy cast office; I as much doe scorne,
As they desire the plenty of thy horne.
Proud meacocke, make the world no more believe
Gentility is pind vpon thy sleeve;
For if thou doe, with my satirick verse,
Thy parentage & manners I 'le reherse,
And make the world, for thy monstrous othes,
To laugh & hisse thee out of thy fine clothes.
Which takes thee, clothd in thy embrodered stuffe,
To be some lord at least. Poore silly groome,
Which tother day wouldst faine have had the roome
Of some base trencher-scraper, so to put
Scraps twice runne over, in thy half starvd gutt.
And now, with often filling of the pot,
An office vnder my lords man hast got,
Being some bread-chipper or greasy cooke,
For much observance & respect dost looke.
Goe where thou wilt, thou gettest none of me.
I know too well thy genealogie.
Let ignorant asses bend their supple knees,
And cry, “God blesse your worship,” for some fees
Of thy cast office; I as much doe scorne,
As they desire the plenty of thy horne.
Proud meacocke, make the world no more believe
28
For if thou doe, with my satirick verse,
Thy parentage & manners I 'le reherse,
And make the world, for thy monstrous othes,
To laugh & hisse thee out of thy fine clothes.
He that sees Moros in his brave attire
Would deem him to be some discreet esquire,
He speakes soe seldome, soe demure doth looke.
But see how much a man may be mistooke;—
A verier foole dame Nature never bred,
That scarce knowes chalke from cheese, or blew from red;
Yet amongst many which haue purblinde eyes
This foolish sot hath been thought wondrous wise.
I know a fellow (I 'le conceale his name)
Hath purchasd, & yet doth possess, the fame
Of a rare scholler, that hath noe one part
Of learning, not the smallest dramme of art.
And will you know how he got his repute?
I 'le tell you, soe you 'l promise to be mute
And make no wordes on 't. 'Tis his asses guise,
As soone as he from 's morning bed doth rise,
After some turne or two in Paules, to drop
In the precinct of some knowne stationers shop,
And there, like a learnd Sir, with a grave voice
He doth demand to see some special choice
Of famous authors, whose true names by heart
The foole hath gotten, of what tongue or art
It skills not much; French, Latine, Hebrew, Greeke,
All 's one, he vnderstandeth all alike:
Montaignes Essaies in French, the history
Of Philip Comineus, poesie
Of Virgil, Horace, & such Latin writers,
St. Austine, Bernard, or some new enditers
Of commentaries theologicall;
And sometimes he 's for philosophicall,
And the best writers of astronomie,
With phisick, logicke, & geometrie.
Then Aristotle, Di[o]scorides,
Avicen, Galen, & Hypocrates;
The Hebrew Rabbins, Ptolomeus, Plato
(Although the foole did never learne his Cato),
Are in his mouth familiar. Some of these,
Which to demaund his fancy best doth please,
He for some hower or two will pore vpon,
Which time is worth your observation;
For sometime smiling with a simpring grace,
In turning over those same leaves apace,
To shew his skill i' th' tongues, hee 'l nod his head,
As if the place which he doth seeme to read
Mov'd him to laughter; then with thumb hee 'l cote,
As if that sentence were of speciall note,
And straight cry “pish!” as if he dislikd that
Which he as much knowes as his grandams cat.
Well, having (as he thinkes) sufficiently
Guld the opinion of the standers by
To his desire, the booke he downe doth lay,
Demaunds the price, dislikes it, goes his way.
Somtime perhaps, to blinde dull iudgements eye,
Some petty English pamphlet he will buie.
Thus hath this gull, among the common sort,
Which iudge by outward shewes, got the report
Of a great scholler, when, God knowes, the foole
Was never farther then the grammer schoole.
Would deem him to be some discreet esquire,
He speakes soe seldome, soe demure doth looke.
But see how much a man may be mistooke;—
A verier foole dame Nature never bred,
That scarce knowes chalke from cheese, or blew from red;
Yet amongst many which haue purblinde eyes
This foolish sot hath been thought wondrous wise.
I know a fellow (I 'le conceale his name)
Hath purchasd, & yet doth possess, the fame
Of a rare scholler, that hath noe one part
Of learning, not the smallest dramme of art.
And will you know how he got his repute?
I 'le tell you, soe you 'l promise to be mute
And make no wordes on 't. 'Tis his asses guise,
As soone as he from 's morning bed doth rise,
After some turne or two in Paules, to drop
In the precinct of some knowne stationers shop,
And there, like a learnd Sir, with a grave voice
He doth demand to see some special choice
Of famous authors, whose true names by heart
The foole hath gotten, of what tongue or art
It skills not much; French, Latine, Hebrew, Greeke,
All 's one, he vnderstandeth all alike:
Montaignes Essaies in French, the history
Of Philip Comineus, poesie
Of Virgil, Horace, & such Latin writers,
St. Austine, Bernard, or some new enditers
29
And sometimes he 's for philosophicall,
And the best writers of astronomie,
With phisick, logicke, & geometrie.
Then Aristotle, Di[o]scorides,
Avicen, Galen, & Hypocrates;
The Hebrew Rabbins, Ptolomeus, Plato
(Although the foole did never learne his Cato),
Are in his mouth familiar. Some of these,
Which to demaund his fancy best doth please,
He for some hower or two will pore vpon,
Which time is worth your observation;
For sometime smiling with a simpring grace,
In turning over those same leaves apace,
To shew his skill i' th' tongues, hee 'l nod his head,
As if the place which he doth seeme to read
Mov'd him to laughter; then with thumb hee 'l cote,
As if that sentence were of speciall note,
And straight cry “pish!” as if he dislikd that
Which he as much knowes as his grandams cat.
Well, having (as he thinkes) sufficiently
Guld the opinion of the standers by
To his desire, the booke he downe doth lay,
Demaunds the price, dislikes it, goes his way.
Somtime perhaps, to blinde dull iudgements eye,
Some petty English pamphlet he will buie.
Thus hath this gull, among the common sort,
Which iudge by outward shewes, got the report
Of a great scholler, when, God knowes, the foole
Was never farther then the grammer schoole.
Thus mans opinion doth him oft deceave,
And of true iudgement doth his minde bereave.
Iudging by outward shewes we iudge amisse,
For vice in vertues habite clothed is.
Hypocrisie seemes holinesse in looke,
Fixing his eyes on heaven or in his booke.
O, 'tis a most dissembling, harmfull devill,
That's good in shew & yet in heart is evill.
Backbiting slander, deep dissimulation,
Are inside hate, yet outside salutation.
Vanting in wordes true valour oft doth seeme,
Yet by his actions we him coward deem;
Soothing vp ill, pernicious flattery,
In outward shew good counsel seemes to be.
Deformity, daubde with a face of paint,
With beauties title doth herselfe a[c]quaint;
Base avarice & sordid parsimony
Is thrift accounted, & good husbandry;
Excessive spending, sensuall prodigality,
Is thought all one with liberality;
Impudent boldnesse, rash temerity,
Is held for vertuous audacity;
Ignorance in his scarlet robe yclad,
Accounted learning, in respect is had,
When vertuous art, clothed in poor aray,
Is held in no repute, till time bewray
The seeming good that ignorance hath not,
And the not seeming good that art hath got.
Thus ther's no trust to be reposde in seeming,
Since virtue's knowne by act, not by esteeming.
And of true iudgement doth his minde bereave.
Iudging by outward shewes we iudge amisse,
For vice in vertues habite clothed is.
Hypocrisie seemes holinesse in looke,
Fixing his eyes on heaven or in his booke.
30
That's good in shew & yet in heart is evill.
Backbiting slander, deep dissimulation,
Are inside hate, yet outside salutation.
Vanting in wordes true valour oft doth seeme,
Yet by his actions we him coward deem;
Soothing vp ill, pernicious flattery,
In outward shew good counsel seemes to be.
Deformity, daubde with a face of paint,
With beauties title doth herselfe a[c]quaint;
Base avarice & sordid parsimony
Is thrift accounted, & good husbandry;
Excessive spending, sensuall prodigality,
Is thought all one with liberality;
Impudent boldnesse, rash temerity,
Is held for vertuous audacity;
Ignorance in his scarlet robe yclad,
Accounted learning, in respect is had,
When vertuous art, clothed in poor aray,
Is held in no repute, till time bewray
The seeming good that ignorance hath not,
And the not seeming good that art hath got.
Thus ther's no trust to be reposde in seeming,
Since virtue's knowne by act, not by esteeming.
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