Skialetheia Or, A shadowe of Truth, in certaine Epigrams and Satyres [by Edward Guilpin] |
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| 6. | Satyra sexta. |
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Satyra sexta.
Oh that mens thoughts should so degenerate,
Being free borne, t'admit a slauish state:
They disclaime Natures manumission,
Making themselues bond to opinion:
VVhose gally-slaues they are, tost on the sea
Of vulgar humors, which doth rage and play,
According as the various breath of change
Calmes or perturbs her smooth brow. Is't not strang
That heau'n bred soules, discended from aboue
Should brooke such base subiection? feare reproofe
From her cold northerne gales, or els be merry
When her Fanonian praise breathes a sweet perry?
Being free borne, t'admit a slauish state:
They disclaime Natures manumission,
Making themselues bond to opinion:
VVhose gally-slaues they are, tost on the sea
Of vulgar humors, which doth rage and play,
According as the various breath of change
That heau'n bred soules, discended from aboue
Should brooke such base subiection? feare reproofe
From her cold northerne gales, or els be merry
When her Fanonian praise breathes a sweet perry?
(Rason) thou art the soules bright Genius,
Sent downe from Ioues throne to safe conduct vs
In this lifes intricate Dædalian maze:
How art thou buffuld? how comes this disgrace,
That by opinion thou art bearded so,
Thy slaue, thy shadow: nay, out-bearded too?
She earth-worme doth deriue her pedegree
From bodies durt, and sensualitie,
And marshald in degree fitting her birth
Is but a dwarffe, or iester to make mirth.
Thou the soules, bodies Queenes allie most neere,
The first Prince of her blood, and chiefest peere,
Nay, her protector in nonage, whilst she
Liues in this bodies weake minoritie,
Art yet kept vnder by that vnderling,
That dreame, that breath, nay that indeed Nothing,
The ale-house Ethicks, the worlds vpside downe
Is verefied: the prince now serues the clowne.
If reason bandy with opinion,
Opinion winnes in the conclusion:
For if a man be once opinionate,
Millions of reasons nill extenuate
His fore-ceited mallice: conference
Cannot asswage opinions insolence.
But let opinion once lay battery
To reasons fort, she will turne heresie,
Or superstition, wily politist,
But she will winne those rampires which resist.
Then sith such innate discord is maintain'd
Twixt reason and opinion; what staid-brain'd,
True resolute, and philosophick head
Would by opinion be distempered?
Sent downe from Ioues throne to safe conduct vs
In this lifes intricate Dædalian maze:
How art thou buffuld? how comes this disgrace,
That by opinion thou art bearded so,
Thy slaue, thy shadow: nay, out-bearded too?
She earth-worme doth deriue her pedegree
From bodies durt, and sensualitie,
And marshald in degree fitting her birth
Is but a dwarffe, or iester to make mirth.
Thou the soules, bodies Queenes allie most neere,
The first Prince of her blood, and chiefest peere,
Nay, her protector in nonage, whilst she
Liues in this bodies weake minoritie,
Art yet kept vnder by that vnderling,
That dreame, that breath, nay that indeed Nothing,
The ale-house Ethicks, the worlds vpside downe
Is verefied: the prince now serues the clowne.
If reason bandy with opinion,
Opinion winnes in the conclusion:
For if a man be once opinionate,
His fore-ceited mallice: conference
Cannot asswage opinions insolence.
But let opinion once lay battery
To reasons fort, she will turne heresie,
Or superstition, wily politist,
But she will winne those rampires which resist.
Then sith such innate discord is maintain'd
Twixt reason and opinion; what staid-brain'd,
True resolute, and philosophick head
Would by opinion be distempered?
Opinion is as various as light change,
Now speaking Court-like friendly, strait-wayes strange;
She's any humours perfect parasite,
Displeas'd with her, and pleas'd with her delight,
She is the Eccho of inconstancie,
Soothing her no with nay, her I with yea.
Now speaking Court-like friendly, strait-wayes strange;
She's any humours perfect parasite,
Displeas'd with her, and pleas'd with her delight,
She is the Eccho of inconstancie,
Soothing her no with nay, her I with yea.
Then who would weigh this feather, or respect
The fickle censure of shallow neglect?
Shall graue Lycurgus straite repeale his lawes,
Because some Cobler finds fault with this clawse,
Some Ale-konner with that? or shall the state
Be subiect to each base-groomes arbitrate?
No, let's esteeme Opinion as she is,
Fooles bawble, innouations Mistris,
The Proteus Robin-good-fellow of change,
Smithfield of iaded fancies, and th' Exchange
Of fleeting censures, nurse of heresie,
Begot by Malice on Inconstancie:
It's but the hisse of Geese, the peoeples noyse,
The tongue of humours, and phantasticke voyce
Of haire-brain'd Apprehension: it respects
With all due titles, and that due neglects
Euen in one instant. For in these our times
Some of Opinions gulls carpe at the rimes
Of reuerend Chawcer: other-some do praise them,
And vnto heau'n with wonders wings do raise them
The fickle censure of shallow neglect?
Shall graue Lycurgus straite repeale his lawes,
Because some Cobler finds fault with this clawse,
Some Ale-konner with that? or shall the state
Be subiect to each base-groomes arbitrate?
No, let's esteeme Opinion as she is,
Fooles bawble, innouations Mistris,
The Proteus Robin-good-fellow of change,
Of fleeting censures, nurse of heresie,
Begot by Malice on Inconstancie:
It's but the hisse of Geese, the peoeples noyse,
The tongue of humours, and phantasticke voyce
Of haire-brain'd Apprehension: it respects
With all due titles, and that due neglects
Euen in one instant. For in these our times
Some of Opinions gulls carpe at the rimes
Of reuerend Chawcer: other-some do praise them,
And vnto heau'n with wonders wings do raise them
Some say the mark is out of Gowers mouth,
Others, he's better then a trick of youth.
Others, he's better then a trick of youth.
Some blame deep Spencer for his grandam words,
Others protest that, in them he records
His maister-peece of cunning giuing praise,
And grauity to his profound-prickt layes.
Others protest that, in them he records
His maister-peece of cunning giuing praise,
And grauity to his profound-prickt layes.
Daniel (as some holds) might mount if he list,
But others say that he's a Lucanist.
But others say that he's a Lucanist.
Markham is censur'd for his want of plot,
Yet others thinke that no deepe stayning blot;
As Homer writ his Frogs-fray learnedly,
And Uirgil his Gnats vnkind Tragedy:
So though his plot be poore, his Subiect's rich,
And his Muse soares a Falcons gallant pitch.
Yet others thinke that no deepe stayning blot;
As Homer writ his Frogs-fray learnedly,
And Uirgil his Gnats vnkind Tragedy:
So though his plot be poore, his Subiect's rich,
And his Muse soares a Falcons gallant pitch.
Drayton's condemn'd of some for imitation,
But others say t'was the best Poets fashion,
In spight of sicke Opinions crooked doome,
Traytor to kingdome mind, true iudgments toomb,
Like to a worthy Romaine he hath wonne
A three-fold name affined to the Sunne,
When he is mounted in the glorious South,
And Drayton's iustly sirnam'd Golden-mouth.
But others say t'was the best Poets fashion,
In spight of sicke Opinions crooked doome,
Traytor to kingdome mind, true iudgments toomb,
Like to a worthy Romaine he hath wonne
A three-fold name affined to the Sunne,
When he is mounted in the glorious South,
And Drayton's iustly sirnam'd Golden-mouth.
The double volum'd Satyre praised is,
And lik'd of diuers for his Rods in pisse,
Yet other-some, who would his credite crack
Haue clap'd Reactioes Action on his back.
And lik'd of diuers for his Rods in pisse,
Yet other-some, who would his credite crack
Haue clap'd Reactioes Action on his back.
Nay, euen wits Cæsar, Sidney, for whose death
The Fates themselues lamented Englands scath,
And Muses-wept, till of their teares did spring
Admiredly a second Castal spring,
Is not exempt for prophanation,
But censur'd for affectation.
The Fates themselues lamented Englands scath,
And Muses-wept, till of their teares did spring
Admiredly a second Castal spring,
Is not exempt for prophanation,
But censur'd for affectation.
Thus doth Opinion play the two edg'd sword,
And vulgar iudgments both-hand playes afford,
Then who but fooles, and empty caske like minds,
Would be engross'd with such phantastique winds?
Let Players, Minstrels, silken Reuellers,
Light minded as their parts, their aires, their fethers,
Be slaues t'Opinion, when the people shoute
At a quaintiest, crosse-poynt, or well touch'd Lute,
Let their sleight frothy minds be bubled vp,
And breake againe at a hisse, or howt, or hup.
Let Caius when his horse hath wone the bell,
Conceiue more ioy than his dull tongue can tell:
Or let Lycanor feare a tennis set
More then his soules losse, and for it more fret.
And vulgar iudgments both-hand playes afford,
Then who but fooles, and empty caske like minds,
Would be engross'd with such phantastique winds?
Let Players, Minstrels, silken Reuellers,
Light minded as their parts, their aires, their fethers,
Be slaues t'Opinion, when the people shoute
Let their sleight frothy minds be bubled vp,
And breake againe at a hisse, or howt, or hup.
Let Caius when his horse hath wone the bell,
Conceiue more ioy than his dull tongue can tell:
Or let Lycanor feare a tennis set
More then his soules losse, and for it more fret.
Pollio me thinks is going into the Towne,
Boy, set your Maisters ruffe, and brush his gowne,
Least some spruce Taylor sitting on his stall,
Say, there goes a slouen, carelesse of all,
Heere comes young Pansa: whether away so fast?
Why, going to the Barbers in all hast,
Thy haire's all short enough: but I must craue
A little labour to be smug'd, and haue
A blessing of Rose-water, ere I goe
To see such and such Ladies, for you know
Thei'le flowt a man behind his backe, if he
Be not trim furbish'd, and in decencie.
Boy, set your Maisters ruffe, and brush his gowne,
Least some spruce Taylor sitting on his stall,
Say, there goes a slouen, carelesse of all,
Heere comes young Pansa: whether away so fast?
Why, going to the Barbers in all hast,
Thy haire's all short enough: but I must craue
A little labour to be smug'd, and haue
A blessing of Rose-water, ere I goe
To see such and such Ladies, for you know
Thei'le flowt a man behind his backe, if he
Be not trim furbish'd, and in decencie.
Oh what a slauerie's this? shall a free mind
Sicke of a Cockneys Ague, feare the wind?
No, let's be Stoicks, resolute, and spare not
To tell the proudest Criticke that we care not
For his wooden censure, nor to mittigate
The sharp tart veriuice of his snap-haunce hate
Would change a line, a word, no not a poynt
For his deepe mouthed scoffes, as soone disioynt
His grind-iest chaps as hurt our credites, who
Are carelesse of what he can say or do.
Sicke of a Cockneys Ague, feare the wind?
No, let's be Stoicks, resolute, and spare not
To tell the proudest Criticke that we care not
For his wooden censure, nor to mittigate
The sharp tart veriuice of his snap-haunce hate
For his deepe mouthed scoffes, as soone disioynt
His grind-iest chaps as hurt our credites, who
Are carelesse of what he can say or do.
Oh Epictetus, perfect libertine,
Who though a slaue, tyr'd daily in the mine,
Yet hadst as free a soule, as free a powre
To calme content as any Emperour,
Thou wert no busie Polypragmons thrall,
No slaue to censures, caring not at all
Which way the vulgar wind stood, negligent
Whether the world were angry or content.
Thy vertue-purged soule, thy Genius
Made all thine inclinations vertuous:
Which thou didst follow, carelesse of th' euent,
Or of the worlds applause, or discontent.
True patterne of a philosophick soule,
Not subiect to Mechanick mates controule,
Nor puff'd vp with the praises of each hind
Which gaue a froathy battery to thy mind.
Who though a slaue, tyr'd daily in the mine,
Yet hadst as free a soule, as free a powre
To calme content as any Emperour,
Thou wert no busie Polypragmons thrall,
No slaue to censures, caring not at all
Which way the vulgar wind stood, negligent
Whether the world were angry or content.
Thy vertue-purged soule, thy Genius
Made all thine inclinations vertuous:
Which thou didst follow, carelesse of th' euent,
Or of the worlds applause, or discontent.
True patterne of a philosophick soule,
Not subiect to Mechanick mates controule,
Nor puff'd vp with the praises of each hind
Which gaue a froathy battery to thy mind.
With such resolue, such perfect temperature
Should a Socratique mind her thoughts assure:
And as he taught young Alcibiades
Audacity to pleade, and to despise
The popular scarcrow estimation;
For that such bodies composition
Consisted but of Brokers, Coblers, slaues,
Black-men, trap-makers, and such kind of knaues,
Whose many headed doomes he neuer weighd,
Nor of their giddy vnion was afraid:
So let all others care for vulgar breath,
Which neither can preserue, nor plague with death,
(Vnlesse their sent of Garlike poyson vs.)
Should I take it at hart, or for hainous,
To heare some Prentize, or some Players boy
Hath iested at my Muse, and scoff'd my ioy?
Or that some Chaundler slopt a mustard pot,
Or wrap'd Sope in some leaues, her petticoate?
Or perfum'd Courtiour in a peeuish scorne,
Some pages thereof, tyrant-like hath torne,
To scauenger his backe dore from the durt?
Which if he do (though me it shall not hurt)
May my harsh stile (the Muses I beseech)
Be but as arse-smart to his tickled breech:
Or shall I thinke my selfe t'haue better hap,
If that some weeuil, mault-worme, barly-cap,
Hearing my lines halfe-snorting ore his kanne,
Sweares them for good, and me a proper man?
Or shall I waxe proud if some Pedant daigne
The Epethite of Pretty for my paine?
The pox I will as soone: let others care,
Ile play the Gallant, I, the Caueleire;
Once in my dayes Ile weene, and ouer-weene,
And cry, a Fico for the Criticke spleene:
For let them praise them, or their praise deny,
My lines are still themselues, and so am I.
Should a Socratique mind her thoughts assure:
And as he taught young Alcibiades
Audacity to pleade, and to despise
The popular scarcrow estimation;
Consisted but of Brokers, Coblers, slaues,
Black-men, trap-makers, and such kind of knaues,
Whose many headed doomes he neuer weighd,
Nor of their giddy vnion was afraid:
So let all others care for vulgar breath,
Which neither can preserue, nor plague with death,
(Vnlesse their sent of Garlike poyson vs.)
Should I take it at hart, or for hainous,
To heare some Prentize, or some Players boy
Hath iested at my Muse, and scoff'd my ioy?
Or that some Chaundler slopt a mustard pot,
Or wrap'd Sope in some leaues, her petticoate?
Or perfum'd Courtiour in a peeuish scorne,
Some pages thereof, tyrant-like hath torne,
To scauenger his backe dore from the durt?
Which if he do (though me it shall not hurt)
May my harsh stile (the Muses I beseech)
Be but as arse-smart to his tickled breech:
Or shall I thinke my selfe t'haue better hap,
If that some weeuil, mault-worme, barly-cap,
Hearing my lines halfe-snorting ore his kanne,
Sweares them for good, and me a proper man?
Or shall I waxe proud if some Pedant daigne
The Epethite of Pretty for my paine?
Ile play the Gallant, I, the Caueleire;
Once in my dayes Ile weene, and ouer-weene,
And cry, a Fico for the Criticke spleene:
For let them praise them, or their praise deny,
My lines are still themselues, and so am I.
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