Skialetheia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Mary and gup! haue I then lost my cap?
It shall be a warning for an after-clap,
Not that I weigh the tributary due,
Of cap and courtship complements, and new
Antike salutes, I care not for th' embrace,
The Spanish shrug, kiss'd-hand, nor cheuerell face,
God saue you sir, good sir, and such like phrases,
Pronounc'd with lisping, and affected graces,
Moue me no more than t'heare a Parrat cry

Her by-roate lesson of like curtesie:

But this I wonder, that th' art so estrang'd,
And thy old English looks to outlandish chang'd,
Howsoe're thy selfe by English birth art freed,
Thou hast neede to haue thy looks endenized:
With thee I haue beene long time well acquainted:
But those beyond-sea looks haue now disioynted
Our well knit friendship, for whose sake I doubt
Th' art quite turn'd Dutch, or some outlandish lowt,
Thou hast cleane forgot thine English tong, & then
Art in no state to salute Englishmen:
Or else th' hast had some great sicknes of late,
Whose tiranny doth so extenuate
Thy fraile remembrance, that thou canst not claime
Thine old acquaintance, mothers tong, nor name
Giuen thee in thy baptisme: for I cannot, I,
Impute it vnto pride, Philosophy
Hauing so well fore-season'd thy minds caske.

Of gulls and fooles I will no question aske,
Wherfore they looke so strange because I know
They are but poore in wit, though rich in show.
Looke on Panduris, with whom in th' infancy
Of my then greene, now riper iudgment, I
Was well acquainted: he sir will not speake,
Thinking himselfe the better man belike
Because his father with bartring, and trucke

Of bad greene-sicknes wines, hath heapt vp muck,
And for his mother with her greedy gripes,
Hath out of neats-feet, chitterlings, and tripes,
Scrapt many a durty pound: this is he,
That lookes like Guazzo, or pedant grauitie,
Spits controuersies, prates of Bellarmine,
And yet perhaps nere saw of his a line.

Then there is Cynops, whose grand-mother sold
Good ale and wigs, in curtesey growne cold,
Because his father with a cossening fetch,
Purchasd land for him, which his conscience stretch
Hath almost sworne the whole world, thar the man
Is damnd, to make his sonne a gentleman.

With them in ranck La volto Publius,
VVho's growne a reueller ridiculous:
And for his dad with Chimicke vsurie,
Turnd yron to sterling, drosle to land and fee,
And got so by old horse-shooes, that the foole
Enterd himselfe into the dauncing schoole;
Thinks scorne to speake: especially now since
H'ath beene a player to a Christmas prince.
When these, & such like doe themselues estrange,
I neuer muse at theyr fantasticke change:
Because they are Phantasmas butterflies,
Inconstant, but yet witlesse Mercuries.
I know some of their humorous neere of kin,

Which scorne to speake to one which hath not bin
In one of these last voyages: or to one
Which hauing bin there yet (though he haue none)
Hath not a Cades-beard: though I dare sweare
That many a beardlesse chin hath marched where
They durst not for their berds come, thogh they dare
Come where they will not leaue theyr beardes one haire
But I doe wonder what estrangeth thee,
New cast in mold of deepe philosophy:
Thee whom that Queene hath taught to moderate,
Thy mounting thought, nor to be eleuate
With puffingst fortunes? though (for ought I know)
Thy fortunes are none such to puffe thee so.

How like a Musherom art thou quickly growne,
I knew thee when thou war'dst a thred-bare gowne:
Siz'd eighteene pence a weeke, and so did I,
As then thou wert faine of my company,
Of mine acquaintance glad; how art thou altred?
Or wherein's thine estate so bettered?
Thou art growne a silken dauncer, and in that
Turn'd to a caper, skipst from loue to hate,
To daunce Mapiu, French-galliard, or a measure,
Doost thou esteeme this cunning such a treasure?
Neuer be proud of that, for dost thou know,
That Laureat Batchelor Del Phrygio?
He with a spade-beard can full mannerly,

Leade the olde measures to a company
Of bare chind-boyes, and with his nimble feete,
Make our fore-wearied Counsellours to sweat:
For enuie at his strange actiuitie,
Because they cannot do't as well as he.
But then a simple reueller, thou art more,
Thou hast had som doings with the prince d'Amore
And playd a noble mans part in a play:
Now out vpon thee Fabian, I dare say,
If Florus should alledge that cause of pride,
Hisse him thou wouldst to death for't: and beside,
thou mightst haue had som doings with that prince
which wold haue made thee lesse proude euer since.

Yet art thou stately, and so stately to,
That thou forget'st thy state, and wilt not know
Them which knowe thee and it: so long thou hast
True follower beene of fashions, that at last
Thou art growne thy selfe a fashion: for to day
Thou art common, popular, in vse euery way
Fitting the various world, but by and by
Thou art disusde, growst stale, and too proudly
Wringst thy selfe frō the humorous worlds conceit,
Now art thou like the wide breech, doublet strait,
But er't be long, thou wilt estranged be,
Like the French quarter slop, or the gorbelly,
The long stockt hose, or close Venetian.

Now fie vpon this pride, which makes wise men
Looke like expired leases; out of doubt
Thou wert wise, but thy lease of wit is out:
For such fond toyes thou hast estrangde thy selfe
For vaine braue Bragardisme, and durtie pelfe,
And yet I thinke, thy pelfe with thee'le dispence
To kisse the Counter, ere twill bale thee thence.

These foolish toyes haue quite disparaged
Philosophy thy Mistris, and tis said,
Thou art like to Damasippus, for thy hayre
Precisely cut, makes thee Philosopher,
And nothing (God wot) else. But what care I?
Why should I reason with thy surquedry?
I smile at thy Atturneys silken pride,
Tufttaffeta state, and make my Muse deride,
In these her scoffing rimes thy beeing strange,
And haue good pastime at thy motley change.
Prethee be proude still, strange still, stately still,
And with thy winde my Muses organs fill,
To sound an Antheme of thy folly foorth,
It wil be merry musicke, richly worth
The laughing at, for I will play a Iigge,
And thou shalt daunce, my Muse shall play the rig
Once in her dayes, but shee shall quittance thee,
For thy contemptible inconstancie.
VVell, if thou wilt speake, so, and so farewell,
If not, I thinke thee worse foole then I'le tell.