University of Virginia Library

2. SECOND COLLECTION

THE Suddaine Turne of ffortunes wheele;

OR A Conference holden in the Castle of St. Angello, betwixt the Pope, the Emperor and the King of Spaine.

THE VIZAGE, COMPLEXION, fface or Preface of the Booke.

Preface.

Doth time retort, or Fortune play the Iade,
Or doth the course of fate run retrograde?
Is hap turn'd haples, or is chance chance Medly,
Or what strainge wonders strickes our foes so deadly?
Hath Rome with Ceasar and most mightie Spaine
Soe long held Fortune pris'ner in a chaine,
Whereby warr with a bloody invndation
O'rewhelm'd and halfe extirp'd the German nation;
And is she now broake loose and chaung'd hir grownd,
With fauour smileing where she long hath frown'd?
These shifteing trickes doth to the world present
That fortunes fauoures are not permanent:
Then fortune, fate and chance and lucke are fictions,
Dreames and Phantasmaes full of contradictions,
And nothing constant in the world wee see
But HE that Was, and IS, and still shalbe.
HE made all thinges, and all thinges that are made
Are mutable, and doe increase or fade;
HE calls himselfe I AM, the present tense,
Who's euer present in omnipotence;
He's still the same almightie, iust and pure,
And no iniquitie he cann indure;
HE sees our sinnes with his all seeing Eye;
Which doe for vengeance to his iustice crye,
For which he long hath suff'red his deere vine
To be opprest, and rooted vp by swine,
For 'tis a Maxim that hath alwaies bin,
That punishment doth euer follow sinn.
Now, in his owne good time, he heares the cryes
Of his aflicted churches Miseries,
He's graciously pleas'd his hands to staye
And turne his furious wrath another way,
Seeinge his people hath so long bene try'de
And with aflictions purg'd and purifi'd,
Their patience and their sufferings being soe
Which made some feare a finall ouerthrowe.
But he that doth his chosen Israell keepe,
Who neither slumbers nor did euer sleepe,
Himselfe now takes his owne great cause in hand,
And doth his vauntinge Enemies with stand;
Which makes our foes complot, consult, and plod
How and by what meanes they may warr with God;
As in these followinge lines I doe explaine,
Twixt Rome, the Empire, and most mightie Spaine.
Tis plainely writt, and harsh and rudely pen'd,
And hopes it shall noe honest man offend.

A CONFERENCE HOLDEN IN THE CASTLE OF ST. ANGELLO BETWIXT THE POPE, THE EMPEROUR & THE KING OF SPAINE.

Pope.
Welcome deere Sonnes vnto our court of Rome;
Blessinges Apostolique and holie doome
Sheild all the house of Austria from mischance,
And both their fortunes and their crownes advance.

Emperour.
Thy feete most holy ffather doe I kisse;
Of churches benediction if I miss,
Th'Imperiall crowne from Austria wilbe gone,
Which heauens forbid, for then w' are all vndone.
Bohemias rebells doth with Sueden ioyne
The heretiques from Donan to the Rhyne;
Their heades, their armes, their forces they combine
'Gainst Rome and Austria and the Palatine
That cursed Caluinist, with his partakers,
Those damned Schismatickes the church forsakers,
Vpon our ruine seeke to build their fortune,
Which makes me thus thy Holines importune.

Pope.
The keys of Peeter and the sword of Paule
Shall shutt and open, cutt in peices all,
The gates of Heauen, Nations lawes and rights,
And turne cleare daies into the darkest nightes.
Their land, that haue our dignitie withstood,
I'le make Aceldema a feild of blood;
'Gainst heretiques I'le thunder out my bulls,
And make their land a place of dead mens skulls.
Some saintes I will enforce and some implore,
And hell and purgatory both shall rore,
E're one of Caluins or of Luthers sect
With Roman Bayes or Eagles shalbe deckt.

Emperour.
The threats and Curses of the Catholickes
Are now despis'd by those vile heretickes;
They hold your blessinge in no more avayle
Then is the flapping of a fox his taile.
In breife they all soe desobedient are,
That for your Bliss or Ban they feare nor care;
Helpe by your Counsell therefore (Holie Sir)
And shew vs meanes to quiet all this stir.

Pope.
Thou maiest by reasons and Embassages,
By questions, answers, and like passadges,
Win time a while; but these are out of date,
Now swordes, not wordes, doe kingdomes arbitrate;
And wee haue vs'd delaies and sleights so oft,
That all our Enemies perceiue our Croft.
Vnto thy neighbour freinds and subiects send,
That from surprise thou maiest thy selfe defend;
My Legates and my Nuncies I'le dispatch
More forces 'mongst the Catholickes to hatch;
Mentz, Cullein, Triers, Catholike Bauare,
Thou hast in Germany, with others there,
From Flaunders, Brabant, and the Poleish King,
Thy true freindes, quickly will their succoures bring;
And though my selfe with Florence may not send
Our armes soe soone, our mony wee will lend:
The Cantons of the Swittzers shalbe wadg'd,
Who to our sea do hold themselues ingag'd:
I'le send to Vrbin and to Mantua,
Vnto Ferara and to Genoa,
To Sauoy, to Pimont, and to Venice,
To ffraunce (our eldest sonn) and to St. Denis:
I'le fetch the saintes from heauen, the feinds from hell,
But I'le those druncken German traytors quell:
Besides thy spanishe Cousin present here,
Whom Europe and the new fownd world doth feare,
The Churches Atlas and the Empires propp:
By streinth, by witt, or gold we meane to stopp
These proud attempts and darings of the dutch,
And breake their forces cost it nere so much.

Spaine.
If Ceasar and your Holines haue done,
Obserue the answere of your Spanish sonne:
Nor German Prelates or Bauaria can,
Nor King of Pole, your selfe, nor anie man,
Nor Florence duke, nor Brabant ioynd with Flaunders,
Nor Cantons Catholicke with their Commaunders;
If these were ioyn'd in one yet could they not,
With all the force that can by them be gott,
Bring timely succores 'gainst this coniuration
These Almaine Graues haue made in euery nation.
Expect not helpe from Sauoye or Venetia,
Who feare and deadly hate the house of Austria:
I looke for nothing from my brother ffraunce,
For if he saw vs downe he'll sing and daunce:
And Ceasar, if at home thou lookst for ayde,
Thy state is tottering and thy streinth decay'd;
Thine Austrian subiects likewise are infected
With Luthers heresie, and haue reiected
The Papall dignitie, and may doe thine,
And with their fellowe Lutherans combine;
And if for succoures thou doe send to Thracia,
The faithles Turkes thou know'st will not from Asia.
Spaine then must helpe, or what shall Ceasar doe,
And how can Spaine helpe Rome and Ceasar to?
Shall Indian armies be recal'd from thence?
Italian forces martch away from hence;
Leaue Millaine, Naples, and our siluer fountaines
Vnguarded, naked, and martch o're the mountaines?
Through Grissons country lead the streinth of Spaine;
Or venter our Armadoe once againe
To narrowe seas, and soe at once loose more
Then wee haue gott in six score yeares before?
Soe thou at Vien, I at Arragon,
May shaue our heades, turne Monkes, and liue alone.
You count your freindes, but count not all your foes,
Whose streinths, whose numbers you cannot opose;
The Northerne trackt of Europe from Brittania,
Tending to East as farr as Transiluania,
Saue Holland, and some trifles, are their owne.
Aye me! fowerscore yeares how are they growne.
Three Kingdomes England, Scotland, Ireland be,
With Denmarke, Norway, Sueden, six you see,
Besides those two which they haue won from thee,
Being eight in all; and our Kings are but three.
The numbers of their Princes, Dukes and Countes,
With their free Lords and stats, oures farr surmountes:
Besides their many Palsgraues and their Mortgraues,
With all their Lantgraues, Rhinegraues, and their Burgraues.
And as their numbers soe their spirrits are,
Made great with hopes by their prodidgious starr,
Which blaz'd o're Germany the last December,
Portending chaunge of stats; and I remember
Their oppositions and their calculations
Of times, of scepters, and of scituations;
Of Rome, of Babell, and of hills and dales,
Of beastes and draggons, and such fearefull tales,
Wherewith they cheare themselues and triumph soe,
As if th'had giuen vs all the ouerthrowe.
The eleuenth and twelfe of Esdras they applye
Against th'Imperiall Eagles monarchie;
And that the Lion comeing from the wood
Is of the King of Sueden vnderstood;
And that the Lion shall the Eagle foile,
And in triumphant sort deuide the spoyle.
The rebells make constructions on this text,
Whereby the Catholickes are sorely vext;
As th'Eagles wings doth o're th'Empire spread,
Euen so the Lion is the armes of Sued,
And Sued (they say) true annagram'd is Deus,
Whom they doe hold the Christian Macchabeus;
They further saye Gustauus is his name,
Which is Augustus in his Annagram.

Pope.
An vncouth shiuering makes my blood to thrill
And strainge amazement doth my sences fill.
I wonder much that they soe skillfull be,
Against vs to applye the Prophesie:
I also doe admier how they could frame
Such annagrams on Sued and Suedens name.
But though those hopes their forward minds may cheare,
Let our imperious thoughts contemne all feare;
For 'tis not ffortunes turning of hir wheele
Can make our noble resolutions reele;
Doubt not but I will find a stratagem
T'vphold Rome, Ceasars, and Spaines diadem.

Spaine.
But, holie ffather, I am certifi'd
That they your power and pollicy deride,
And how of you they made an Annagrame,
The best and bittrest that their witts could frame,

Pope.
And doe they find such strainge predictions out
To fill the Catholikes with feare and doubt?
I'le make them knowe that I am fixed fast
On Peeter, and shall neuer downe be cast:
My benediction or my malediction
Can raise in state, and ruine with afliction.
The heretiques on Peeters faith doe build;
But I vpon his person am vpheld,
And from him vnto me all power is giuen
To bind and loose, to shutt and open heauen,
And whilst I keepe the keyes none shall come in
That in these madd rebellious warrs haue binn.

Emperour.
All you can say, and all you can deuise,
They vallue not, but vtterly despise.
The Duke of Saxon from our side is gone,
And with the King of Sued conioyn'd as one:
And why should I from him expect for more,
Then Charles my predecessor did before,
Who gaue him all and more then I can mention?
Yet shortly after, in that great contention
Twixt him and Luthers rebells, he forsooke
His benefactor, and against him tooke.
And by these Ciuill warrs what is our gaine?
Our people more then millions haue bene slaine;
Dampeire, Buequoy, and many valient men,
Whose like wee haue no hope to haue agen:
Our subiects with great taxes rent and rack'd,
Our Prouince laied wast, our citties sack'd,
Our fruitfull feildes vntil'd and vnmanur'd,
Loss vpon loss, past hope to be recur'd:
Maides, wiues and widdowes rauish'd and deflowr'd;
Our land with spoile and rapine all devour'd;
Fire, sword and famine hath these twelve yeares space
Rag'd all mine Empire o're in euery place:
Our freindes fall off, our treasury exhausted,
Our selfe with greife and age decay'd and wasted;
And all the mischeifes that by warr can fall,
Wee and our people haue endur'd them all;
Whilst many thousands that were wont to giue,
Now begg or starue, or miserably liue;
And last, that most vnlucky ouerthrowe,
My trusty Tillies loss, a deadly blowe.
Prague and Bohemias kingdom, all is gone;
Our townes of ffranckfurt and of Hanow wone,
Hall, Haluerstadt and Heinst, with mightie Mentz;
Our cheife Elector bishopp fled from thence:
My generalls Walsteine and don Baltazarr
Fled to Polonia from the rage of warr.
This makes our foes with victorie to swell,
And all is worse then tounge or pen can tell.

Spaine.
Noe Prince with me in losses may compare,
For I haue had more then a double share.
Great damage I haue had in Asia;
And Pernambucco in America,
With places of importance in Braseele,
The furious force of chance and chaunge doth feele:
Mine India shipps surpris'd, my subiects slaine,
Wherein consisted halfe the hope of Spaine:
Besides in Belgia I haue had mishapp;
My towne of Weazle taken in a trapp;
The Buss a place of great importance lost,
Long time defended with exceeding cost;
And late that vnrecouerable stroake
In Zealand, where our forces all were broake;
Sloopes, punts and lighters, seauenty eight confounded,
Six thousand men tane pris'ners, many wounded;
Fower thousand hand granadoes and of brass
Fower hundred thirty peices taken was;
Eleuen barrells of good mony tane,
And many hundredes of my souldiers slaine;
With store of powder, shott and ammunition,
All lost in that vnlucky expedition.
All this the last September was atcheiued,
For which our foes reioyce, our freindes are greiued;
Whilst onely Dunkirke, man'd with runagadoes,
Against mine enemies haue made brauadoes.
They onely haue done thinges of speciall notes,
Taken some merchants and small fisher boats,
And now and then a collier, or a katch
With oysters, seldome meeteing with their match;
For with braue acts their fame abroad is hurl'd,
As if they had subdu'd and wone the world,
When euery wiseman knowes well and beleiues
Their towne and shipps to be but dens for theiues.
Haue all my auncestors to six descents,
By conquests, wedlocke, and like liggaments,
Ty'd earledomes, dukedomes, Crowne and Empire fast,
And is the period of our greatnes past,
And our declineing now begin to hast,
Hopeing for westerne monarchie at last?
Nassaw, Nassaw, you hatefull sonnes and father,
Curst be your name and house: you, you did gather
The fearefull rebells into warlike bands,
Who now doe state it in the Netherlands;
There, there you writt Nill vltra once againe,
And set vp Easterne pillars barrs to Spaine.

Emperour.
Thus are our danegers, these our greifes related;
Thus are our minds perplex'd, our harts amated.
If Rome have any secret wisedome hid
Laied vp for euill times, or euer did
Make wicked heretiques feele churches power,
Then, father, now's the time and this the hower.
Remember how two Frederickes heretofore
Frighted thy predecessors; this may more
Hazzard thy fortunes, vtterly suppress
Thy selfe, the Roman church and vs, vnless
By some prime stratagem fetch'd from the deepe
Thou dost thy selfe and freinds from damage keepe.

Pope.
And are our freindes soe fewe and so vntrustie,
And be our foes so many and so lustie?
One Innocent in Rome, in former ages,
Hath vs'd three Kings for lacques and for pages;
And dare they nowe against our likeing make
Both Kings and Ceasars? then, you furies, wake!
Helpe me to store of pistolls, poysons, kniues,
To fire and powder, manacles and giues.
Bid Rauillack and Clement hye them hither;
Let Guido Faux and Garnett come togeather;
All those that doe in Pollicy excell,
Sonnes of Iscariott and Achittophell.
Come, ye Ignatians, bring ye assassinates,
Left handed Ehuds that doe rule the fates
And cutt the threades of Princes liues assunder;
These Roman Sceueloes shall make men wonder,
To see these vpstarts all with their partakers,
In euerie nation slaughtred by massacres.
I'le raise vp Suares, Parsons, Bellarmine,
And Loyalla their father, and refine
All humane witt to one pure quintessence,
Against whose vertue shal be no defence.
My sonnes therefore at nothinge be dismaied,
Remember what your father now hath saied;
You to Viena, you to Siuill goe,
Helpe as you maye to giue the fatall blowe.

The Fearefull Summer:

OR, Londons Calamitie, The Countries Discourtesie, And both their Miserie.

To the truely Generous and Noble Knight, Sir Iohn Millissent, Serjeant-Porter to the Kings most Excellent Majestie.

Right worthy Knight, when first this Book I writ
To You, I boldly Dedicated it:
And having now enlarg'd both Prose and Rime,
To you I offer it the second time.
To whom should I these sorrowes recommend,
But unto You, the Cities Noble Friend?
I know you are much grieved with their griefe,
And would adventure Life for their reliefe:
To you therefore these Lines I Dedicate,
Wherein, their Sorrowes partly I relate,
I humbly crave acceptance at your hand:
And rest

THE Fearefull Summer: OR, Londons Calamitie.

The Patience and long-suffering of our God,
Keeps close his Quiver, and restraines his Rod,
And though our crying Crimes to Heav'n doe cry
For vengeance, on accurst Mortality;
Yea though wee merit mischiefes manifold,
Blest Mercie doth the hand of Iustice hold.
But when that Eye that sees all things most cleare,
Expects our fruits of Faith, from yeere, to yeere,
Allowes us painefull Pastors, who bestow
Great care and toyle, to make us fruitfull grow,
And daily doth in those weake Vessels send
The dew of Heaven, in hope we will amend;
Yet (at the last) he doth perceive and see
That we unfruitfull and most barren be,
Which makes on us his indignation frowne,
And (as accursed Fig-trees) cut us downe.
Thus mercy (mock'd) plucks justice on our heads,
And grievous Plagues our Kingdome over-spreads:
Then let us to our God make quicke returning,
With true contrition, fasting and with mourning:
The Word is God, and God hath spoke the Word,
If wee repent hee will put up his Sword.
Hee's griev'd in punishing, Hee's slow to Ire,
And Hee a sinners death doth not desire.
If our Compunction our Amendment show,
Our purple sinnes Hee'll make as white as snow.
If wee lament, our GOD is mercifull,
Our scarlet crimes hee'l make as white as Wooll.
Faire London that did late abound in blisse,
And wast our Kingdomes great Metropolis,
'Tis thou that art dejected, low in state,
Disconsolate, and almost desolate,
The hand of Heav'n (that onely did protect thee)
Thou hast provok'd most justly to correct thee,
And for thy pride of heart and deeds unjust,
Hee layes thy pompe and glory in the dust.
Thou that wast late the Queene of Cities nam'd,
Throughout the world admir'd, renown'd, and fam'd:
Thou that hadst all things at command and will,
To whom all England was a hand-maid still;
For Rayment, Fewell, Fish, Fowle, Beasts, for Food,
For Fruits, for all our Kingdome counted good,
Both neere and farre remote, all did agree
To bring their best of blessings unto thee.
Thus in conceit thou seem'dst to rule the Fates,
VVhilst peace and plenty flourish'd in thy Gates,
Could I relieve thy miseries as well,
As part I can thy woes and sorrowes tell,
Then should my Cares be eas'd with thy Reliefe,
And all my study how to end thy griefe.
Thou that wer't late rich, both in friends and wealth,
Magnificent in state, and strong in health,
As chiefest Mistris of our Countrie priz'd,
Now chiefly in the Country art despis'd.
The name of London now both farre and neere,
Strikes all the Townes and Villages with feare;
And to be thought a Londoner is worse,
Than one that breakes a house, or takes a purse.
Hee that will filtch or steale now is the Time,
No Justice dares examine him, his crime;
Let him but say, that he from London came,
So full of Feare and Terrour is that name,
The Constable his charge will soone forsake,
And no man dares his Mittimus to make.
Thus Citizens plagu'd for the Citie sinnes,
Poore entertainement in the Countrie winnes.
Some feare the Citie, and flye thence amaine,
And those are of the Countrie fear'd againe,
Who 'gainst them barre their windowes and their doores,
More than they would 'gainst Turkes, or Iewes, or Moores,
I thinke if very Spaniards had come there,
Their well-come had been better, and their cheare.
Whilst Hay-cock-lodging, with hard slender fare,
Welcome like dogges unto a Church they are,
Feare makes them with the Anabaptists joyne,
For if an Hostesse doe receive their coyne,
She in a dish of water, or a paile,
Will new baptize it, lest it something aile.
Thus many a Citizen well stor'd with Gold,
Is glad to lye upon his mother mold,
His bed the map of his mortalitie,
His curtaines Clouds, and Heav'n his Canopie.
The russet Plow-Swaine, and the Leathern Hinde,
Through feare is growne unmannerly, unkinde:
And in his house (to harbour) hee'l preferre
An Infidell before a Londoner:
And thus much friendship Londoners did win,
The Devill himselfe had better welcome bin:
Those that with travell were tir'd, faint, and dry,
For want of drinke, might starve, and choke, and dye:
For why the hob-nail'd Boores, inhumane Blocks,
Uncharitable Hounds, hearts hard as Rocks,
Did suffer people in the field to sinke,
Rather than give, or sell a draught of drinke.
Milke-maides and Farmers wives are growne so nice,
They thinke a Citizen a Cockatrice,
And Countrie Dames are wax'd so coy and briske,
They shun him as they'l shun a Basiliske:
For every one the sight of him will flye,
All fearing he would kill them with his eye.
Ah wofull London, I thy griefe bewaile,
And if my sighs and prayers may but prevaile;
I humbly beg of God that hee'l bee pleas'd,
In Jesus Christ his wrath may be appeas'd,
With-holding his dread judgements from above,
And once more graspe thee in his armes of love.
In mercie all our wickednesse remit,
For who can give thee thankes within the pit?
Strange was the change in lesse than three months space,
In joy, in woe, in grace, and in disgrace:
A healthfull April, a diseased Iune,
And dangerous Iuly, brings all out of tune.
That Citie whose rare objects pleas'd the eyes
With much content and more varieties,
She that was late delightfull to the eares,
With melody Harmonious, like the Spheares:
Shee that had all things that might please the scent,
And all she felt, did give her touch content,
Her Cinque Port scences, richly fed and cloy'd
With blessings bountifull, which shee enjoy'd.
Now three months change hath fill'd it full of feare,
As if no Solace ever had beene there.
What doe the eyes see there but grieved sights
Of sicke, oppressed, and distressed wights?
Houses shut up, some dying, and some dead,
Some (all amazed) flying, and some fled.
Streets thinly man'd with wretches every day,
Which have no power to flee, or meanes to stay,
In some whole street (perhaps) a Shop or twaine
Stands open, for small takings, and lesse gaine.
And every closed window, doore and stall,
Makes each day seeme a solemne Festivall.
Dead Coarses carried, and recarried still,
Whilst fiftie Corpses scarce one grave doth fill.
With Lord have mercie upon us on the doore,
Which (though the words be good) doth grieve men sore.
And o're the doore-posts fix'd a Crosse of red,
Betokening that there Death some blood hath shed.
Some with Gods markes or Tokens doe espie,
Those Markes or Tokens, shew them they must die.
Some with their Carbuncles, and Sores new burst,
Are fed with hope they have escap'd the worst:
Thus passeth all the weeke, till Thursdayes Bill
Shewes us what thousands Death that weeke did kill.
That fatall Bill, doth like a Razor cut
The dead, the living in a maze doth put,
And he that hath a Christian heart, I know,
Is griev'd, and wounded with the deadly blow.
These are the objects of the Eye, now heare
And marke the mournefull Musicke of the Eare;
There doe the brazen Iron tongu'd loud Bells,
(Deaths clamorous Musicke) ring continuall knells,
Some loftie in their notes, some sadly towling,
Whil'st fatall Dogges made a most dismall howling.
Some franticke raving, some with anguish crying,
Some singing, praying, groaning, and some dying,
The healthfull grieving, and the sickly groaning.
All in a mournefull diapason moaning.
Here, Parents for their Childrens losse lament;
There, Children grieve for Parents life that's spent:
Husbands deplore their loving Wives decease:
Wives for their Husbands weepe remedilesse:
The Brother for his Brother, friend for friend,
Doe each for other mutuall sorrowes spend.
Here, Sister mournes for Sister, Kin for Kin,
As one griefe ends, another doth begin:
There one lyes languishing with slender fare,
Small comfort, lesse attendance, and least care,
With none but Death and hee to tug together,
Untill his Corps and Soule part each from either.
In one house one, or two, or three doth fall,
And in another Death playes sweepe-stake all.
Thus universall sorrowfull complaining,
Is all the Musicke now in London raigning,
Thus is her comfort sad Calamitie,
And all her Melodie is Maladie.
These are the objects of the Eyes and Eares,
Most wofull sights, and sounds of griefes and feares.
The curious taste that whilome did delight,
With cost and care to please the Appetite;
What she was wont to hate, she doth adore,
And what's high priz'd, she held despis'd before;
The drugs, the drenches, and untoothsome drinkes,
Feare gives a sweetnesse to all severall stinckes;
And for supposed Antidotes, each Palate
Of most contagious weeds will make a Sallate,
And any of the simplest Mountebankes,
May cheat them (as they will) of coyne and thankes,
With scraped pouder of a shooing horne,
Which they'l beleeve is of an Unicorne:
Angelicaes, distastfull root is gnaw'd,
And Hearbe of grace most Ruefully is chaw'd;
Garlicke offendeth neither taste nor smell,
Feare and opinion makes it rellish well;
Whilst Beazer stone, and mightie Mithridate,
To all degrees is great in estimate:
And Triacles power is wondrously exprest,
And Dragon water in most high request.
These 'gainst the Plague are good preservatives,
But the best Cordiall is t'amend our lives:
Sinn's the maine cause, and we must first begin
To cease our griefes, by ceasing of our sinne.
I doe beleeve that God hath given in store
Good Medicines to cure, or ease each Sore;
But first remove the cause of the disease,
And then (no doubt but) the effect will cease:
Our sinne's the cause, remove our sinnes from hence,
And God will soone remove the Pestilence:
Then every med'cine (to our consolation)
Shall have his power, his force, his operation;
And till that time, experiments are not
But Paper walls against a Canon shot.
On many a post I see Quacke-salvers Bills
Like Fencers Challenges, to shew their skills;
As if they were such Masters of defence,
That they dare combat with the Pestilence,
Meet with the Plague in any deadly fray,
And bragge to beare the victory away;
But if their Patients patiently beleeve them,
They'l cure them (without faile) of what they give them;
What though ten thousands by their drenches perish,
They made them purposely themselves to cherish:
Their Art is a meere Artlesse kinde of lying,
To picke their living out of others dying.
This sharpe invective no way seemes to touch
The learn'd Physician, whom I honour much,
The Paracelsians and the Galennists,
The Philosophicall grave Herbalists:
These I admire and revereuce, for in those
God doth Dame Natures secrets fast inclose,
Which they distribute as occasion serve
Health to reserve, and health decay'd conserve:
'Tis 'gainst such Rat-catchers I bend my pen,
Which doe mechanically murther men,
Whose promises of cure (like lying knaves)
Doth begger men, or send them to their graves.
Now London, for thy sence of feeling next,
Thou in thy feeling chiefly art perplext;
Thy heart feeles sorrow, and thy body anguish,
Thou in thy feeling feel'st thy force to languish,
Thou feel'st much woe, and much calamitie,
And many millions feele thy misery;
Thou feel'st the fearefull Plague, the Flix, and Fever,
Which many a soule doth from the body sever:
And I beseech God for our Saviours merit,
To let thee feele the Comfort of the Spirit.
Last for the solace of the smell or scent;
Some in contagious roomes are closely pent,
Whereas corrupted aire they take, and give
Till time ends, or lends liberty to live.
One with a piece of tasseld well tarr'd Rope,
Doth with that Nose-gay keepe himselfe in hope:
Another doth a wispe of Wormewood pull,
And with great judgement crams his nostrils full:
A third takes off his socks from's sweating feet,
And makes them his perfume alongst the street:
A fourth hath got a pownc'd Pommander Box,
With worme-wood juice, or sweating of a Fox,
Rue steep'd in vineger, they hold it good
To cheere the sences, and preserve the blood.
Whil'st Billets Bonefire-like, and Faggots drie
Are burnt i'th streetes, the Aire to purifie.
Thou great Almightie, give them time änd space,
And purifie them with thy heavenly Grace,
Make their repentance Incense, whose sweet savour
May mount unto thy Throne, and gaine thy favour.
Thus every sence, that should the heart delight,
Are Ministers, and Organs to affright.
The Citizens doe from the Citie runne.
The Countries feares, the Citizens doe shunne:
Both feare the Plague, but neither feares one jot
The evill wayes which hath the Plague begot.
This is the way this Sicknesse to prevent,
Feare to offend, more than the punishment.
All Trades are dead, or almost out of breath,
But such as live by sicknesse or by death:
The Mercers, Grocers, Silk-men, Gold-smiths, Drapers,
Are out of Season, like noone-burning Tapers:
All functions faile almost, through want of buyers,
And every Art and Mystery turne Dyers:
The very Water-men give over plying,
Their rowing Trade doth faile, they fall to dying.
Some men there are, that rise by others falls,
Propheticke Augurists in Urinals,
Those are right Water-men, and rowe so well,
They either land their Fares in Heav'n or Hell.
I never knew them yet, to make a stay
And land at Purgatorie, by the way:
The reason very plainely doth appeare,
Their Patients feele their Purgatorie here.
But this much (Reader) you must understand,
They commonly are paid before they land.
Next unto him th'Apothecary thrives
By Physicke Bills, and his Preservatives:
Worme-eaten Sextons, mightie gaines doe winne,
And nastie Grave-makers great commings in:
And Coffin-makers are well paid their rent,
For many a wofull woodden tenement;
For which the Trunke-makers in Pauls Church-yard,
A large Revenue this sad yeere have shar'd,
Their living Customers for Trunkes were fled,
They now made Chests or Coffins for the dead.
The Searchers of each corps good gainers be,
The Bearers have a profitable fee,
And last, the Dog-killers great gaines abounds,
For braining brawling Curres, and foisting hounds.
These are the Grave Trades, that doe get and save,
Whose gravitie brings many to their grave.
Thus grieved London, fill'd with moanes and groanes,
Is like a Golgotha of dead mens bones:
The field where Death his bloody fray doth fight,
And kil'd a thousand in a day and night.
Fair houses, that were late exceeding deare,
At fiftie or an hundred pounds a yeere,
The Landlords are so pittifull of late,
They'l let them at a quarter of the rate.
So hee that is a mightie moneyed man,
Let him but thither make what haste hee can,
Let him disburse his Gold and Silver heape,
And purchase London, 'tis exceeding cheape;
But if he tarry but one three months more,
I hope 'twill be as deare as 'twas before.
A Countrie Cottage, that but lately went
At foure markes, or at three pounds yeerely rent;
A Citizen, whose meere necessitie
Doth force him now into the Countrie flie,
Is glad to hire two Chambers of a Carter,
And pray and pay with thankes five pounds a quarter.
Then here's the alteration of this yeere,
The Cities cheapnesse makes the Countrie deare.
Besides, another mischiefe is, I see
A man dares not be sicke although he be:
Let him complaine but of the Stone or Gout,
The Plague hath strooke him, presently they doubt:
My selfe hath beene perplexed now and then,
With the wind-Collicke, yeeres above thrice ten,
Which in the Country I durst not repeat,
Although my pangs and gripes and paines were great:
For to be sicke of any kind of griefe,
Would make a man worse welcome than a thiefe;
To be drunke sicke, which er'st did credit winne,
VVas fear'd infectious, and held worse than sinne.
This made me, and a many more beside,
Their griefes to smother, and their paines to hide,
To tell a merry tale with visage glad,
VVhen as the Collicke almost made me mad.
Thus meere dissembling, many practis'd then,
And mid'st of paine, seem'd pleasant amongst men,
For why, the smallest sigh or groane, or shrieke,
VVould make a man his meat and lodging seeke.
This was the wretched Londoners hard case,
Most hardly welcome into any place;
VVhilst Country people, whereso'ere they went,
VVould stop their noses to avoid their sent,
VVhen as the case did oft most plaine appeare,
'Twas only they themselves that stunke with feare.
Nature was dead (or from the Country runne)
A Father durst not entertaine his Sonne,
The Mother sees her Daughter, and doth feare her,
Commands her on her blessing not come neere her.
Affinitie, nor any kinde of Kinne,
Or ancient friendship could true welcome winne;
The Children scarcely would their Parents know,
Or (did if they) but slender duty shew:
Thus feare made Nature most unnaturall,
Duty undutifull, or very small,
No friendship, or else cold and miserable,
And generally all uncharitable.
Nor London Letters little better sped,
They would not be receiv'd (much lesse be read)
But cast into the fire and burnt with speed,
As if they had been Hereticks indeed.
And late I saw upon a Sabbath day,
Some Citizens at Church prepar'd to pray,
But (as they had been excommunicate)
The good Church-wardens thrust them out the gate.
Another Country vertue Ile repeat,
The peoples charitie was growne so great,
That whatsoever Londoner did dye,
In Church or Church-yard should not buried lye.
Thus were they scorn'd, despised, banished,
Excluded from the Church, alive, and dead,
Alive, their bodies could no harbour have,
And dead, not be allow'd a Christian Grave:
Thus was the Countries kindnesse cold, and small,
No house, no Church, no Christian buriall.
Oh thou that on the winged Winds dost sit,
And seest our misery, remedy it,
Although we have deserv'd thy vengeauce hot,
Yet in thy fury (Lord) consume us not:
But in thy mercies sheath thy slaying Sword,
Deliver us according to thy Word:
Shut up thy Quiver, stay thy angry Rod,
That all the World may know thou art our God,
Oh open wide the Gate of thy Compassion,
Assure our Soules that thou art our Salvation:
Then all our thoughts, and words, and works, we'l frame
To magnifie thy great and glorious Name.
The wayes of God are intricate, no doubt
Unsearchable, and passe mans finding out,
He at his pleasure worketh won'drous things,
And in his hand doth hold the hearts of Kings,
And for the love which to our King he beares,
By sicknesse he our sinfull Country cleares,
That he may be a Patron, and a Guide,
Unto a people purg'd and purifi'd.
This by a president is manifest;
When famous late Elizabeth deceast,
Before our gracious Iames put on the Crowne,
Gods hand did cut superfluous branches downe,
Not that they then that were of life bereft,
Were greater sinners than the number left:
But that the Plague should then the Kingdome cleare,
The good to comfort, and the bad to feare:
That as a good King, God did us assure,
So hee should have a Nation purg'd and pure.
And as Elizabeth when she went hence,
Was wayted on, as did beseeme a Prince:
Of all degrees to tend her Majestie,
Neere fortie thousand in that yeere did dye,
That as shee was belov'd of high and low,
So at her death, their deaths their loves did show;
Whereby the world did note Elizabeth,
Was lovingly attended after death.
So mightie Iames (the worlds admired mirour)
True faiths defending friend, sterne Foe to Errour,
VVhen he Great Britaines glorious Crowne did leave,
A Crowne of endlesse glory to receive,
Then presently in lesse than eight months space,
Full eighty thousand follow him apace.
And now that Royall Iames intombed lyes,
And that our gracious Charles his roome supplies,
As Heav'n did for his Father formerly,
A sinfull Nation cleanse and purifie:
So God, for him these things to passe doth bring,
And mends the subjects for so good a King.
Upon whose Throne may peace and plenty rest,
And he and his Eternally be blest.

Drinke and welcome:

OR THE FAMOVS HISTORIE of the most part of Drinks, in use now in the Kingdomes of Great Brittaine and Ireland; with an especiall declaration of the potency, vertue, and operation of our English Ale.

[Thou shalt be from disease and weaknesse free]

Thou shalt be from disease and weaknesse free,
From mone, from care, long time of life to thee
Shall by more friendly fate afforded be:
Drinke Sack therefore if you'l be rul'd by me.

Here followeth, a laborious and effectuall discourse, in praise of the Element of all Waters fresh and salt, with their opperation; with a touch of the causes of all sorts of weather, faire and foule.

I that of Earth was made, yet no earth have,
No not so much as may afford a grave:
For when that death my lives thred shall untwine
I have no buriall in a ground that's mine:
Of all the Elements, the Earth is worst;
Because for Adams sinne it was accurst:
Therefore no parcell of it will I buy
But on the VVater for reliefe relie.
When as mans crying crimes in volleyes flew
To Heaven, and Heavens high vengeance downeward drew:
Then Water all the World did overrunne,
And plagu'd th'abuses that on Earth were done.
From showres of Water, rain'd from Skies to Earth,
Spring, Sommer, Harvest, Winter have their birth.
For VVater is the Milke of Heaven, whereby
All things are nurs'd, increase and multiply.
The oldest and most grave Astronomers,
The learned'st and most sage Philosophers
Doe hold, that in the highest Altitude
A spheare of Water is, in Amplitude
Envelloping all other Orbs and Spheres,
With all the Planets swift and slow careares,
Even as the Sea the Earth doth compasse round,
The Water so the Firmament doth bound.
Should I of Water write, but what it is,
I should be drowned in my Theames Abysse:
And therefore I'le but dabble, wade, and wash,
And here and there both give, and take a dash.
In blest Records it truely is approv'd,
That Gods blest Spirit upon the Waters mov'd:
Then All things were involved in the Waters,
All earthly, Airie, and all firie matters:
Vntill th'Almighty (whose workes all are wonders)
With saying (Let there be) the Chaos sunders.
Of a confus'd lump, voyd of forme and fashion,
He spake, and gave the world its faire creation.
And as at first the Waters compast all
The Chaos, or worlds universall Ball.
So still, of all the workes of God, most glorious
The water was, is, and will be victorious.
It doth surmount the Ayre, the fire it quenches
With Inundations it the Earth bedrenches:
The Fire may burne a house, perhaps a Towne,
But water can a Province spoyle and drowne:
And Ayre may be corrupted, and from thence,
A Kingdome may be plagu'd with pestilence:
Where many die, old, young, some great, some small,
But water flouds plaies sweep-stake with them all.
Earth may be barren, and not yeeld her store:
Yet may she feed the rich, and starve the poore.
But Earth in triumph over all ner'e rid,
As in the Diluge once the Waters did.
Warre may make noyse with Gunnes and ratling Drums,
But Water, where it comes, it overcomes.
Thus Earth, nor Ayre, nor Fire, nor rumbling Warre,
Nor plague, or pestilence, nor famine are
Of powre to winne, where Water but commands,
As witnesse may the watry Netherlands.
Concerning Merchandise, and transportation,
Commerce and traffique, and negotiation,
To Make each Countrie have by Navigation
The Goods, and Riches of each others Nation.
Commodities in free community,
Embassages for warre or unity:
These blessings, by the Sea, or some fresh River
Are given to us, by the All-giving Giver.
And in the vasty and unmeasur'd roome
Of Neptunes Regiment, or Thetis wombe,
Are almost shapes and formes of all the things
Which in the Earth, or Ayre, or dies, or springs.
Ther'e Fishes like to Sunne or Moone, and Starres,
Fowles of the Ayre, and weapons for the Warres,
Beasts of the Field, and Plants and Flowers there,
And Fishes made like Men and Women are.
All instruments for any Art or Trade,
In living formes of Fishes there are made.
This is approv'd, if any man will seeke
In the first day of Bartas his first weeke,
Heaven hath ordain'd the watry Element
To be a Seale and sacred Sacrament,
Which doth in Baptisme us regenerate,
And man againe with God doth renovate.
And as it in the Laver (mysticall)
Doth cleanse us from our sinne originall:
So for our corp'rall uses 'tis most meete
To wash our cloathes, and keepe us cleane and sweet.
Wer't not for Water thus we plainelie see,
No Beast on Earth more beastly were than wee.
Our selves with nastinesse our selves should smother,
Or with our owne stench poyson one another.
It keepes our vessels cleane to dresse our meate,
It serves to cleanse and boile the meate we eate.
It makes our houses hansome, neate and cleane,
(Or else the mayd is but a fluttish queane)
Thus Water boyles, parboyles, and mundifies.
Cleares, cleanses, clarifies, and purifies.
But as it purges us from filth and stincke;
We must remember that it makes us drinke,
Metheglin, Bragget, Beere, and headstrong Ale,
(That can put colour in a visage pale)
By which meanes many Brewers are growne Rich,
And in estates may soare a lofty Pitch,
Men of Good Ranke and place, and much command
Who have (by sodden Water) purchast land:
Yet sure I thinke their gaine had not been such
Had not good fellowes vs'de to drinke too much;
But wisely they made hay whilst Sunne did shine,
For now our Land is overflowne with wine:
With such a Deluge, or an Inundation
As hath besotted and halfe drown'd our Nation.
Some that are scarce worth 40 pence a yeere
Will hardly make a meale with Ale or Beere:
And will discourse, that wine doth make good blood,
Concocts his meat, and make digestion good,
And after to drinke Beere, nor will, nor can
He lay a Churle upon a Gentleman.
Thus Bacchus is ador'd and deifide,
And We Hispanializ'd and Frenchifide:
Whilst Noble Native Ale, and Beeres hard fate
Are like old Almanacks, Quite out of Date;
Thus men consume their credits and their wealths,
And swallow sicknesses, in drinking healths,
Untill the fury of the spritefull Grape
Mounts to the braine, and makes a man an Ape,
A Sheepe, Goate, Lion, or a Beastly swine,
He snores, besoyl'd with vomit and much Wine.
At Good mens Boords, where oft I eate good cheere,
I finde the Brewer honest in his Beere.
He sels it for small Beere, and he should cheate,
In stead of small to cosen folks with Greate.
But one shall seldome find them with that fault,
Except it should invisibly raine Mault.
O Tapsters, Tapsters all, lament and cry,
Or desp'rately drinke all the Tavernes dry:
For till such time as all the Wine is gone,
Your are bewitch'd, and guests you shall have none.
Then to the Tavernes hye you every man:
In one day drinke foure Gallons, if you can,
And with that tricke (within a day or twaine)
I thinke there will but little Wine remaine.
Your hopes to hoppes returne againe will be,
And you once more the golden age will see.
But hold, I feare my Muse is mad or drunke,
Or else my wits are in the wetting shrunk:
To Beere and Ale my love hath some relation
Which made me wander thus beyond my station.
Good Reader be my Priest, I make confession,
I pray thee pardon me, my long digression.
From Beere and Wine to water now a while,
I meane to metamorphose backe my stile.
Wer't not for Water, sure the Dyers would die,
Because they wanted wherewithall to dye.
Cost would be lost, and labour be in vaine,
'Tis Water that must helpe to die in Graine.
They could then feare no colours, it is cleare,
Want water, and there will be none to feare.
The Fishmongers, (a worthy Company)
If VVater did not still their Trade supply,
They would be Tradefalne, and quite downe be trod,
Nor worth the head or braine-pan of a Cod.
Then Lent and Ember-weekes would soone be shotten,
All fasting daies would quickly be forgotten:
Carthusian Friers, in superstitious Cloysters
VVould want their sttirring Cockles, Crabs and Oysters:
And Catholicks turne Puritanes straight way,
And nevermore keepe Lent or fasting day.
But leaving Neptune, and his Trumping Triton,
Of other VVaters now I meane to write on,
(Exhal'd by Phœbus from the Ocean maine)
Of Clowdes, of misty Fogs, all sorts of Raine,
Of Dew, of Frosts, of Haile, of Ice of Snow
VVhich falls, and turnes to water here below,
Of Snow and Raine, as they together meet
VVell mingled in the Ayre, are called Sleet.
Of Springs, of petty Rils, of Chrystall Founts,
Of Streamelets here my merry Muse recounts;
Of Foordes, of Brookes, of Rivers, Lakes and Bournes;
Of Creekes, of Ebbes and flouds, and their returnes,
Of Gulphs, ponds, Whirlpooles, Puddles, Ditches, Pooles,
Of Moates, of Bathes, some hot, and some that cooles,
Of Waters, bitter, sweet, fresh, salt, hot, cold,
Of all their operations manifold;
These (if I can) I'le mention with my Pen
And last of Urin and strong Watermen.

Of Clouds.

A Cloud's a Vapour, which is cold and moyst,
Which from the Earth, or Sea, the Sunne doth hoyst
Into the middle Region of the Ayre,
And is (by extreame cold) congealed there,
Untill at last, it breake and fals againe,
To Earth, or Sea, in snow, sleet, Haile or Raine.

Of Mists.

Mists are such clouds, which neere the earth doe lye,
Because the sun wants strength to draw them high.
When radiant Sol displaies his piercing Beames

Of Raine.

Into a cloud, it Thawes, and Raines, in streames:
And as the cloud is distant neere or farre,
So, great, or small the showrie droppes still are.
Some men ('gainst Raine) doe carry in their backs
Prognosticating Aking Almanacks:
Some by a painefull elbow, hip, or knee,
Will shrewdly guesse, what wether's like to be:
Some by their cornes are wondrous Weather-wise,
And some by biting of Lice, Fleas, or Flies:
The Gowt, Sciatica, The Gallian Morbus,
Doth oft foretell if Tempests shall disturbe us;
For though these things converse not with the stars,
Yet to Mans Griefe they are Astronomers;
In Spring time, and in Autumne Phœbus Ray
From land and sea drawes vapours in the day,
Which to th'Ayres lowest Region he exhales,

Dew.

And in the night in pearly dew it fals.
Here oft fall Meldewes, sweet as Hony; And
Dew oft turnes Manna in Polonia land.
Twixt Dew and Hoare-frost, all the ods, I hold

Hoare frosts

One comes from heate, the other from the cold.
Hayle is an Ice which oft in flawes and stormes

Hayle.

In spring and Harvest fals, in sundry formes;
For in the Autumne, Winter, or by night
Scarce any Hayle within our land doth light.
And last comes Snow, the cold'st of Winters Weathers,

Snow.

Which fals and fils the Ayre with seeming feathers.
These from the land, and from the Ocean Maine,
The Sun drawes up, and then lets fall againe.
Thus water universally doth fly
From Earth and skie to Sea, from them to Sky:
For 'twixt the Firmament, the land and Ocean,
The Water travels with perpetuall Motion.
Now, from the Airy Regions I descend,
And to a lower course my study bend:
He that of these things would know more, may please
To looke them in some Ephimerides.
Springs, (in the Earth) I doe Assimulate

Springs.

To veines of Man, which doe evacuate,
And drop by drop through Cavernes they distill,
Till many meetings make a petty Rill:
Which Rill (with others) doe make Rivolets,
And Rivolets, Brookes, Bournes and foords begets,
And thus combined, they their store deliver
Into a deeper trench, and make a River.
Then Rivers joyne, as Isis doth with Tame,

Rivers.

And Trent with Owse, and Humber doth the same.
These altogether doe their Tributes pay
Unto their soveraigne Ocean night and day.
These make Dame Tellus wombe to fructifie,
As blood in veines of men doe life supply.
Lakes in low vallied Grounds have Generation,

Lakes

Or from some severall Rivers Inundation.
Some Lakes seeme Oceans, amongst which are these
The Dead-lake, Hircan, and the Caspian seas.
A Whirpooles like unto state policy
Not to be sounded, but with jeopardy.
Hot Bathes doe spring from Brimstone veines, whose heat
For many cures have opperetion great.
Some minerall earth is bitter, and doth make
The water issuing thence, that taste to take.
In Scicily, they say, there is a VVell
VVhose water doth for Vinegar serve well.
A VVell neere Bilen in Bohemia lies
VVhich (like burnt VVine) the Countrey there supplies.
And divers springs in Germany there be,
VVhose taste with Vinegar, or VVine agree.
For there the Brimstone mines, and Minerals
VVith Fumes infusing vapours up exhales
And with the waters doe incorporate
Hot, cold, sweet, sowre, as they ennaccuate.
Some Rivers are of such strange working might,
VVhich dranke (by sheepe) doth change them black from white,
Some that with bathing cure, blind, deafe, and lame,
And makes mens haire red that doe drinke the same,
Some are at noone key-cold, at midnight hot,
Some makes a man mad, some a drunken sot,
Some are in summer cold, in winter warme,
And some are banefull, full of poysn'ous harme.
Some (do with lust) make mens affections burne,
And some (through coldnesse) wood to stones will turne,
Some will quench burning torches straite, and then
Dip'd in the water they are light agen,
I read that in Silicia one may finde
A well which if Thieves drinke of, are strucke blinde,
My selfe, and many thousands more than I
Would (rather then to drinke thereof be drie.)
If Brittaines waters all were such, I thinke
That few of us would dare thereof to drinke:
I could write more of strange wells opp'rations:
And waters of our owne and other Nations.
But Doctour Fulk of late hath writ a booke,
Of Met'ors, and who lifts therein to looke,
May read, and reading may be well suffic'd,
So learnedly he hath Epitomiz'd.
There are two Springs, which women (when they mump)
Or lumpish lowring from their eyes can pumpe,
And in those pearly streames the foole, and witty,
Hath oftentimes beene duck'd or sous'd with pity:
Kinde hearted men are drown'd in sorrow deepe
When they doe see a handsome woman weepe.
But Aprill like, soone dry and quickly wet
(As anger, love, or hate doe rise or set,)
But as for those that truely spring from griefe,
I wish them consolation and Reliefe.
Now (to ecclips the vigour of the Vine)
We have strong waters, stronger much than Wine:
One with a quart of water drunke may be,
When (of the best wine) he may hold out three,
The sellers of these waters seldome row,
And yet they are strong-water-men, I know.
Some water-men there are of sight so quicke,
They'l tell by water if a man be sicke,
And (through the urinall) will speedily
Finde out the cause, the griefe and remedy.
These men deserve much honour, love and thankes.
But hang base pispot cheating Mountebankes.
'Twere fit the Ratcatchers with them should be,
Combin'd in one, and at one Hall made free.
I could speake why the sea doth ebbe and flow,
And why 'tis salt, but Doctour Fulke doth show
Compendiously, as I have said before;
And therefore here I'le touch these poynts no more.
Month changing Luna, hath the government
O're all the various watry element,
And as the Moone is mutable even so
The waters still are turning to and fro:
'Tis smooth, 'tis rough, deepe, shallow, swift and slow,
Whose motion doth perpetuall ebbe and flow:
Most weake, most strong, most gentle, most untam'd
Of all the creatures that were ever nam'd:
It is so weake that children may it spill,
And strong enough millions of men to kill:
As smooth as Glasse, as Rugged as a Beare,
Weake, and yet greatest burthens still doth beare,
And as the waters from the Moone doth carry
Her inclination, and like her do vary:
So I (a Water-man) in various fashions,
Have wroate a hotchpotch here of strange mutations,
Of ancient liquors, made by Liber Pater,
Of drinkes, of Wines, of sundry sorts of Water:
My Muse doth like a Monkey friske and frigge,
Or like a Squirrell skip, from twigge to twigge:
Now sipping Sider, straightway supping Perry,
Metheglin sweet, and Mead, (that makes her merry)
VVith Braggot, tharein teach a Cat to speake,
And poore Pomperkin (impotent and weake)
And lastly (as the chiefe of all the rest)
She tipples Huff-cap Ale, to crowne the feast,
Yet now and then in Beere and Balderdash
Her lips she dips; and cleane her entrailes wash:
And ending, she declares Sack's mighty power,
VVhich doth time, coyne, wit, health, and all devoure.
Not by the mod'rate use, but by th'abuse
Which daily is in universall use.
For Rhenish, Claret, White, and other Wines
They need not the expression of my lines;
Their vertue's good, if not commix'd impure,
And (as they'r us'd) they may both kill or cure.
Through drinks, through wines, and waters, I have run,
And (being dry and sober.) I have

Iohn Taylors last Voyage, AND ADVENTVRE, PERFORMED from the twentieth of Iuly last 1641. to the tenth of September following.

To his Friend Mr. John Tayler, on his voyage and Iourney.

Iohn Taylor Water-Poet Anagramme: Loapety-Troianroweth.

Strange Newes! There is arrived at our Key;
A wandring Poet alwaies in his way;
Whose wilfull Errors makes him thus to vaunt,
Æneas-like, I came from Troyonvant.
I rowed in Rivers sometimes checkt by Milles,
Steer'd under Bridges, and came over Hilles.
The Oares of pleasure and of profit brought
This Water-Poet hither in his boat;
And hence he must, but yet he will I trow
To the Brittaines rather then the Latines row:
English will serve him rightly to rehearse
His crooked travells in good prose or verse.
When as the winds of fancy cease to blow him,
If he have watermen to row or tow him;
Expect Relations, I beleeve in fyne
The Poets waterworkes will goe in wine,
And all his dry-land passages appeare
With casuall events both here and there.
Now I doe wish he may accomplsh it
Without expence of any thing but wit.

IOHN TAYLORS LAST VOYAGE, AND ADVENTVRE performed from the twentieth of Iuly last 1641. to the tenth of September following.

Of famous Rivers, Brooks, Bournes, Rills, & Springs,
Of Deepes and Shallowes my invention Sings,
Of Rocks Impenetrable, fourds and Mills,
Of Stopps, and Weares, Shelves, Sands, and mighty Hills,
Of Navigable passages (Neglected)
Of Rivers spoyl'd, men begger'd and deiected.
Of Tame, of Isis, Seaverne, Wye and Teme
Lugge, Loden, Doyre, and Monnoes Pearly Streame,
Of these, of more than these, and of their Vses,
And of their miserable strange Abuses.
I truely treate, that men may note and see
What blessings Navigable Rivers bee,
And how that thousands are debar'd those blessings
By few mens Avaritious hard oppressings.
I also shew how those faults may be mended
And no man have just cause to be offended.
And with a paire of Oares (for that intent)
I once from London unto Lincolne went,
Whereas a passage seven miles was cut thorowe
From Lincolne into Trent, and to Gainsborowe;
That way I past, and into Humber past
To Hull, from thence to Owse, and Yorke at last,
Another Voyage to the West, againe
I (with a Wherry) past the raging Maine
From London to the Isle of Wight and thence
To Salisbury (with Time and Coynes expence)
Since when our gratious soveraigne did ordaine
The Viscount Dorchester to take the paine
To view what wrongs the River Thames did beare
I served then, and every Stoppe and Weare
And all impediments, I found I writ
And (hoping for amendment) printed it.
For care was taken, and true industrie
That from faire Oxfords University
To London I Annottomiz'd the flood
And shew'd it's qualities both bad and good.
Promise was made, Thames wrongs should bee reform'd
And some small helps were speedily perform'd
But yet not halfe is done that then was spoken
(All promises are either kept or broken)
For as a monument, of our disgraces
The Rivers too too fowle in many places.
I have describ'd heere many an injury
In three great Rivers, Severne, Thames, and Wye)
Besides two Rivers Avon, one makes speede
To Bristol, (and doth make it rich indeede.)
And would Bathe cure that Rivers great amisse
That City would be richer then it is,
But each man to himselfe beares private love
And no man will the generall griefe remove.
The other Avon Ruines past Gloster West
From Bristols Avon fifty miles at least,
It glides to Stretford Towne from Coventry
And into Severne falls at Tewxbury.
Of Rivers, many writers well have done
Grave Camden, Draytons Polyolbyon,
And painefull Speede, doth in his Mappes declare
Where all these Brookes and waters were and are,
But yet not any one have sought (but I)
To finde their wrongs, and shew some remedy.
I shew the meane neglect of Navigation
For few mens profit, publique lamentation,
To encrease some five or fixe mens Treasury
Whiles twenty thousand lives in misery,
From shore to shore brave Rivers are dam'd so
That not a woodden dish hath roome to go,
No not a hand breadth, but that all is stop'd
And from the poore man all reliefe is stop'd.
It is the goodnesse of our God to give
To us foure Elements, whereby we live:
Those Elements, Fire, Water, Ayre are nam'd
And Earth (of which althings are made and fram'd,
And all those blessings, the great God of Heaven
(Some more, some lesse to every man hath given.
By ayre and breath (and breath no man buy
Ayre serves all creatures in community)
And though earth yeeld materialls for the fire
Which many a sonne (by right) holds from his sire,
Yet sure me thinkes the water should be free
For passage, for all men of each degree.
And though the Rivers in proportions are
Shar'd thine, or mine, or this or that mans share,
Yet sure, when God gives water, boates to beare
It should not be stop'd up, with Mill or Weare.
And now my meaning plainer to disclose,
A little while I'le turne my Verse to Prose.

[For who can (but with pittie) here behold]

For who can (but with pittie) here behold
These multitudes of mischiefes manifold,
Shall Rivers thus be barr'd with stops and locks,
With Mills, and Hills, with gravels beds, and rocks:
With weares, and weedes, and forced Islands made,
To spoyle a publique for a private Trade?
Shame fall the doers, and th'Almighties blessing
Be heap'd upon their heads that seeke redressing.
Were such a businesse to be done in Flanders
Or Holland mongst the industrious Netherlanders,
They to deepe passages would turne our hils,
To Windmills they would change our watermils.
All helps unto these rivers they would ayd,
And all impediments shall be destroyed:
Our vagabonds (the wandring brood of Caine,)
They would inforce those runnagates take paine,
Whereby much profit quickly would accrue,
(For labour robs the hangman of his due.)
In common reason, all men must agree:
That if these Rivers were made cleane and free,
One Barge, with eight poore mens industrious paines,
Would carry more than forty carts or waines.
And every waine to draw them horses five,
And each two men or boye, to guide or drive.
Charge of an hundred horse and eighty men
With eight mens labour would be served then,
Thus man would be imployd, and horse preserv'd,
And all the Countrey at cheape rates be serv'd.
'Tis said the Dutchmen taught us drinke and swill,
I'm sure we goe beyond them in that skill,
I wish (as we exceede them in what's bad)
That we some portion of their goodnesse had:
Then should this worthy worke be soone begun,
And with successefull expedition done?
Which I despaire not of, but humbly plead,
That God his blessings will increase and spread
On them that love this worke, and on their heires,
Their goods and chattels, and on all that's theirs?
I wish them blest externall, and internall
And in the end with happinesse eternall.

Heads of all Fashions.

Being, A Plaine Desection or Definition of diverse, and sundry sorts of heads, Butting, Jetting, or pointing at vulgar opinion. And Allegorically shewing the Diversities of Religion in these distempered times.

To the gentle Reader

Distracted fame throughout the world so spreads,
That monster-like, she now hath many heads,
A man can goe to no place, but shall heare
Things that may make him hope, and make him feare:
But I doe hope, and hope I will doe still,
All shall be well in spite of little Will,
Or any of his Crew, farre off or neare,
Whose practices doe every day appeare
Still more and more, the Lord sees how they deale,
And doth their Plots and Projects all reveale;
Each City and each Towne, yea every village,
Can fill us now with newes, we need not pillage.
Tom Long and's men, rare tydings will relate,
Some of high Powr's and Peeres, some of the State,
Some of Religion, or Church Discipline,
Some of this Bishop, some of that Divine;
Some of a Knot of villaines late found out,
Heav'ns mend or end that base conspiring rout.
Some brings us newes from Ireland, false or true,
How ever all is calld both true and new,
Within one day a man may undertake
Briefe notes of thousands severall things to make,
If he writes halfe what he shall heare or see,
Newes-mongers now have such varietie,
That let them make reports, till tyr'd or dumbe,
Their last newes scarce is told, but newes is come
To wait their next attendance to be spread,
By this meanes fame hath got a monsters head,
Yea many heads, whereof I found a few,
And here have laid them open to thy view,
Peruse them all, in earnest or in jest,
And tell me which amongst them is the best.
If Round-head should be found the best to be,
Farewell all other heads, Round-head for me.
But gentle Reader, give me thy good word,
And then I care not what Round-heads afford.

A Round-head at randome.

MAD VERSE, SAD VERSE, GLAD Verse and Bad Verse.

I weeping sing the maddest mad Rebellion,
That ever Story told, or Tongue can tell ye on:
The Barbarous Wars of th'Heathen Gothes, and Vandalls,
Did never make their names such Odious Scandalls:
The Turkes, the Jewes, the Canniballs and Tartars,
Ne're kept such wicked, Rude, unruly Quarters.
Jerusalems Eleazer, John and Simon,
Did ne're yeeld Poet baser stuffe to Rime on.
Not bloody Sylla, or consuming Marius,
Into so many mischiefes could e're carry us;
The Roman and th'Imperiall Guelphes and Gibellins,
Vnto our English Rebells are but Quiblins.
Not Munsters John a Leyd, or Knipperdoling,
Did ever use such Pilling and such Poleing;
Nor was their Cheating or their Hare-braind trouble like
As ours, (rais'd by the faithlesse Faith call'd Publique.)
The Royall twain, Lancastrians, and Yorkists,
Were ne're so mad as those Cornuted Forkists.
The Heard of all the Councell (called Common)
Hath shewed such wisedome, as was seen by no man;
And many of the Rich and Reverend Aldermen,
(Saving their Beards) in wit were never Balder-men.
The Citazens of all Trades, (poor tame Widgeons)
Were hardly more in number, then Religions,
That one may say of London, what a Towne ist,
Is it quite Metamorphos'd and turn'd Brownist,
Or shivered into Sects? alas, how apt ist
To be a Familist, or Anabaptist!
And last of all, (and which of all the worst is)
To be Rebellious, which (of all) accurst is.
The two pretended Houses at Westminster
Have made a stirre, as there hath never bin stirre
To equall it, and with Religious Mantle
They Rifle England, by patch, piece and Cantle.
The Documents of Burton, Prinne and Bastwick
Inspires the People mindes, and Braines fantastick,
Whilst the Committee close, or close Committee
Makes many Thousands sing a dolefull Dittie;
Where daily feares are stamp'd and new Coynd Jealousies
For King and Kingdomes spoyle, both Fire and Bellowes is.
Their Whirlegigges, their Vanes and Haslerigges,
Whose wisedomes are approv'd, (like Tarletons Jygges.)
Mild-may that monster never be received,
That Judas like his Maisters trust deceived,
And let that Pye within the Oven be burned,
That 'gainst his Maker is a Rebell turned.
Let Say be lesse esteem'd then rotten Buckram
And Holland scorn'd and stink like lousie Lockram
May Deering, a rare Gem, a deare Ring be he,
And (Circle) turn'd, at the Triangle Tree be.
And I may say of thee, O London, London,
What hath thy sword and shield, thy Pike and Gun done,
O what hath many a Mothers wicked son done
But made their Magazen of mischiefe London,
Thrice happy had it been for our Tranquillitie,
If th'Authors of this damned Incivilitie,
Had been a little checkt by Gregory Brandon,
With every one a Hempen twisted Band on.
Because I wrote some Pamphlets, that were printed
In hope thereby their madnesse might be stinted,
For which my kindnesse they were still ingratefull,
And every day (with troubles) fild my Pate full,
Abusing my sincere and good Intentions
With foule prejudicate and false Inventions.
For since the time that first I understood men
I ne're writ any thing to anger good men;
But I have lasht at Nose-wife Scripture Picklers,
At Separatists and lawlesse Conventicklers,
Who are this Kingdomes wasting Maledictions,
The Kings, the Churches, and the Lands Afflictions.
They said I was a Villaine, and most fervent
In Roguery, for I was the Kings sworne Servant:
They did so farre detest me, and abhorre me
They caused a Messenger to be sent for me,
He used me kindly for which cause here I name
The man (a wonder) and men call him Binehame.
He said mine Enemies were full of malice
(Wider from truth then Dover is from Callice;)
Their fowle Complaints (quoth he) are scimble scamble,
Mere Froth and Vapour, yet we two must amble
Before the close Committees great Tribunall,
(Whose Orders have put Order out of Tune all.)
To Merchant-Taylors-Hall, (as I remember)
He brought me, neare the ending of November,
The yeare of sixteene hundred forty and two
Whereas false Accusations I did stand to,
Æthiopian Corbet, Isaack high and mighty
Look'd grim, their very countenance would fright ye,
They charg'd me with such words, that I had spoken
Which had I spoke, my Neck they would have broken;
That Pym, Kimbolton, Haslerigge, Strode, Hampden
And Hollis (Rebells which the learned Campden,
Nor Stow, Howes, Speed, old Fabian, Cooper, Grafton
In all their Chronicles, they never left one
For Treason, with those six to be compared,
Or dar'd to do, the like as they have dared.)
They said I said, those six a cursed Crew were,
That they to God, King, Kingdom, never true were,
That they were Rogues, and Theeves, full of oppression,
Rebells, and Traitors, for which foul Transgression
Because they all grew rich by Robbing others,
Made Sirelesse Sons, Sons Sirelesse, Sonlesse Mothers,
By Rapine bringing Thousands unto Beggery,
For which they all deserv'd reward from Gregory.
These dangerous accusations I deny'd all,
My conscience knew, that they from Truth were wide all,
And that my accusers, that sought my disgrace there,
Not one of them did dare to show his face there.
Vpon which answer they did straight acquit me,
Yet to the Messenger they did Commit me;
But he spake for me, I did humbly wooe them:
He said (at any time) I should come to them:
The honest Messenger gat me discharged,
And to the Tavern we went both enlarged,
Where I did give him thanks in Sack and Claret,
And for his paines had but a small fee for it.
My Rascall Enemies did dayly watch me,
And vow'd to do me mischiefe if they catch me:
To Murder me, they many times way-laid me,
And near the Guild-Hall once had like t'have payd me.
For as my selfe, and two more honest men was,
One Quart at three-tons Tavern, drinking then was,
The cursed Crew, (more then six score to'th hundred)
Did swear that Limb from Limb I should be sundred)
My friends and I Amaz'd, did much admire on,
Wherefore the House so Rudely they Inviron,
But I perceiving t'was no time to dally,
Slipt through a smoke shop in t'a narrow Alley,
And so into a street men call Cat-Eaten,
And by that meanes, scap'd more then being Beaten,
My Wife lay long sick, many troubles prickt me,
Necessity did divers wayes Afflict me.
The King (my Maister) justly was offended,
And on his Service my Estate depended,
He, and His Royall Queen, (my gracious Mistris)
Were driven from us, His Servants left in distresse;
Where we (poor fellows) were despis'd and hated,
And to give Money 'gainst our Maister Rated:
But I, with others, crav'd to be excused,
Some gave, some gave not, flatly I refused,
My King and's Father, gave me cloath and Wages,
Which Motive sure His Servants all ingages:
But too too many a Rascall (worse then Judas,)
Have given the Rebells Money like a Lewd Asse.
The generation of abhorred Vipers,
The Coyn Collectors, most insatiate Gripers,
Swore to return my name, I feard what may come,
And left my wife a dying, and away come.
My wrongs, my griefes, and sicknesse so had wearied her,
Shee dy'd, they sold my goods, and fairly buried her.
Th'usurping Fsaack (Major) did hate me deadly,
But yet I got his passe (by meere Chaunce-Medly;)
I tooke a Boate, and up to Windsor went I,
Whereas of Rebells (of all sorts) were plenty,
Some great Commanders, who were Tradesmen broaken
Grown rich with Plunder, late, scarse worth a Token;
Some Cobling Preachers, some perfidious Nobles,
(The Church, the King and Kingdomes cursed troubles)
Besides a crew of base Knaves, Omnium Gatherum,
Shuffle 'em together, and the Divell father 'um;
One of their Generall Essex Life-Guard was there
Who struck me, as I up the street did passe there,
He calld me pretty surnames, Rogue and Traytor,
Malignant, and the Parliaments great hater,
And Spy, and to the Kings use then that I would
Betray the Town and Castle both, if I could.
That villaine had a mighty mind to bast me,
But I, from him did to the Castle hast me,
Where Peterboroughs Earle, and the Lord Rochfort,
(Pardon my Rime good Reader I must botch for't)
They knew me, and did entertaine me friendly
And askt at what place did my journies end lye,
I said to Abingdon, and that to Henly
I would go that night, if I might passe cleanly,
Or safely from my Lord of Essex Catives
Whose carriage shewed, they were not Englands Natives.
The Noble Rebells kindly did discard me
And caused some Souldiers through their Guards to guard me,
And so I Windsor left, (what can be more said)
And weary went to Henly, as aforesaid,
But when to Maidenhead I was advanced,
Vpon three Ragged Rebells there I chanced,
Who all to Henly, company did beare me
And in the mid-way, (in a wood) did feare me.
For, in the Thicket of tall Oakes and Beeches
Me thought I heard 'em mutter scurvy speeches,
One said, old man, the Coat you now are wearing
Is much too hot, and heavy for your bearing,
The second spide a bag, wherein I carried
Things for my use, (as my occasions varied)
These two demanded, and I durst not grudge it
But strait delivered them my Coat and Budget.
The third man (which did make their number triple)
Offered his service, like a kind disciple,
Quoth he, of that man you to much have shar'd him,
And of his goods and moveables have par'd him,
Shall I that of your Company am third man
Have nothing, shall I be a base absurd man.
My friend, quoth I, all is not quite berest me
My selfe is yet mine owne, my selfe is left me,
I'm weary, carry me, they have my cloothing
And thou shalt carry me, that's more then nothing.
With that they laught outright, I faining smiled
And so the tedious way with talke beguiled.
My leash of Rascalls, were mad Blades, (right Bilboes)
True tatter'd Rogues, in breech, shirts, skirts and elboes,
They sung, and danc'd the Morris, like maide Marrian
And sweat and stunk, as sweet as sugar Carrion,
I mus'd, if they were pleas'd to jeere and sob me,
Or if they meant to jest with me or Rob me:
But they to me prov'd Rebells with some reason
They had not learn'd their Grammar Rules of Treason,
They kindly brought me to a wholsome Alehouse,
Where merrily we drank like foure good fellowes,
With songs, and tales, and now and then a story
And 'ere we fell a sleep, we sung John Dorrye,
They gave me all, which they from me had got then;
Deceiving me, cause they deceiv'd me not then;
I left both them and Henly, and away I
To Abingdon, by shutting in of day I
Came to the Kings Head, (my owne Brother's house,) and
Of welcomes, I had some part of a thousand.
'Twas neare the time of Marches Equinoctiall,
J had good meat, and such drink as would fox ye all;
Ther's many Barrell full, turn'd Turvey Topsie
And many a But hath dropt away the dropsie
That there's good fare, and entertainment proper
For Love, for Gold, for Silver, and for Copper.
At Abingdon, I staid almost a fortnight,
The dayes wax'd long, (and each day had a short night.)
Much about Easter time, I came to Oxford,
Where are some few knaves, and some Mizers Fox-furd,
In Christ-Church Garden, then a gladsome sight was
My Soveraigne Lord, and many a Peere and Knight was,
The Hopefull Prince and James Dux Eboracensis
(Whom God defend from Rebells false pretences)
The Sunne of Sacred Majesty did frustrate
My former griefes, and all my joyes Illustrate,
His gracious Eye, did see where I did stand strait,
He came to me, puts forth his Royall hand strait,
Which on my knees, I humbly kneeld and kist it,
I rather had left all I had, then mist it.
But now at Oxford, I was safe arrived,
How to be well imployed my Braines contrived,
My purse was turn'd a Brownist or a Round-head,
For all the Crosses in it, were confounded,
To some Imployment I my selfe must settle,
Fire must be had to boyle the Pot and Kettle.
Then by the Lords Commissioners, and also
By my good King, (whom all true Subjects call so)
I was commanded with the Water Baylie
To see the Rivers clensed both nights and dayly.
Dead Hogges, Dogges, Cats, and well slayd Carryon Horses
Their noysom Corpes soyld the Waters Courses:
Both swines and Stable dunge, Beasts guts and Garbage,
Street durt, with Gardners weeds and Rotten Herbage.
And from those Waters filthy putrifaction,
Our meat and drink were made, which bred Infection.
My selfe and partner, with cost paines and travell,
Saw all made clean, from Carryon, Mud, and Gravell:
And now and then was punisht a Delinquent,
By which good meanes away the filth and stink went.
Besides at all commands, we serv'd all warrants,
To take Boats for most necessary errants,
To carry Ammunition, food and fewell,
(The last of which last Winter was a Jewell.)
Poor Souldiers that were Maim'd, or sick, or wounded
By the curst meanes of some Rebellious Roundhead;
To carry and recarry them our care was,
To get them Boats as cause both here and there was.
Thus have I been imployd, besides my trade is,
To write some Pamphlets, to please Lords and Ladies,
With Gentlemen or others that will read them,
Whose wits (I hope) not over much will heed them.
To all these services I am immediate
Obedient, willing, at occasions ready at.
My Riches is my Lame Legge, let the blame lye
Vpon that Legge, because I have writ Lamelye.

REBELLS Anathematized, And Anatomized:

OR, A Satyricall Salutation to the Rabble of seditious, pestiferous Pulpit-praters, with their Brethren the Weekly Libellers, Railers, and Revilers, Mercurius Britannicus, with the rest of that Sathanicall Fraternity.

THE EXALE-TATION OF ALE The ancient Liquor of this REALME

OR, A Cleare Definition of its Efficatious operation in severall Pates, Arts, and Professions.

Not drunken nor sober, but neighbour to both,
I met with a friend in Ales-bury Vale;
He saw by my face, that I was in the case
To speak no great harm of a Pot of good Ale.
Then did he me greet, and sayd since we meet,
(And he put me in minde of the name of the Dale)
For Ales-bury's sake, some paines I would take,
And not bury the praise of a Pot of good Ale.
The more to procure me, then he did adjure me,
If the Ale I dranke last were nappy and stale,
To do it its right, and stir up my spri'te,
And fall to commend a &c.
Quoth I, To commend it I dare not begin,
Lest therein my credit might happen to fail;
For many men now doe count it a sin,
But once to looke toward a &c.
Yet I care not a pin, for I see no such sin,
Nor any thing else my courage to quail:
For this we do finde, that take it in kinde,
Much Virtue there is in a &c.
And I meane not the taste, though thereby much grac't,
Nor the Merry-go-down without pull or hale,
Perfuming the throat when the stomack's aflote,
With the fragrant sweet scent of a &c.
Nor yet the delight that comes to the sight,
To see how it flowers and mantles in graile,
As green as a Leek, with a smile in the cheek,
The true orient colour of a &c.
But I meane the Mind, and the good it doth find;
Not onely the Body so feeble and fraile:
For Body and Soule may blesse the Black bowle,
Since both are beholden to a &c.
For when heavinesse the mind doth oppresse,
And sorrow and griefe the heart do assaile,
No remedy quicker, than to take off your Liquor,
And to wash away Cares with a &c.
The Widdow that buried her husband of late
Will soone have forgotten to weep and to waile,
And think every day twain, till she marry again,
If she read the Contents of a &c.
It is like a belly-blast to a Cold heart,
And warms and ingenders the spirits vitall,
To keep them from domage, all sp'rites owe their homage
To the Sp'rite of the Buttery a &c.
And down to the legs the virtue doth goe,
And to a bad Foot-man is as good as a saile,
When it fills the veins and makes light the brains,
No Lackey so nimble as a &c.
The Naked complains not for want of a Coat,
Nor on the cold weather will once turne his taile;
All the way as he goes, he cuts the wind with his nose,
If he be but well wrapt in a &c.
The hungry man takes no thought for his meat,
Though his stomack would brook a ten-penny naile;
He quite forgets hunger, thinks on it no longer,
If he touch but the sparks of a &c.
The Poor man will praise it, so hath he good cause,
That all the yeare eats neither partridge nor quaile,
But sets up his rest, and makes up his feast
With a crust of brown bread and a &c.
The Shepherd, the Sower, the Thresher, the Mower,
The one with his scyth, the other with his flail,
Take them out by the poll, on the peril of my soul,
All will hold up their hands to a &c.
The Soldier, the Saylor, the True-man, the Tayler,
The Lawyer that Sels words by weight and by tale;
Take 'em all as they are, from the War to the Bar,
They all will approve of a &c.
All Religions and Nations, all Countreys and fashions,
Rich or poore, Knave or Whore, dwarfish or tall,
High or low, this I know, all will bow, Ile avow,
To the high power of a &c.
The Sallamander, Brazier that baths in the fire,
Whilst his Bellowes are blowing a blustering gale,
Will shake off his full Kan, and sweare each true Vulcan
Will hazard his wits for a &c.
The Black-smith, whose bellowes all summer do blow,
With the fire in his face still, without e're a Vaile,
Though his throat be full dry, he will tell you no lye,
But where you may be sure of a &c.
Who ever denies it, the Prisoners will praise it,
That beg at the Grate, and ly in the Goale:
For, even in their Fetters, they thinke themselves better
May they get but a two penny black pot of Ale.
For though they be inclos'd in the Grate,
They'le sing and be merry, and care for no Bale;
Nor for hunger, for cold, for fetters or fate,
The Comfort consists in a &c.
The Begger whose portion is alwayes his prayers,
Not having a tatter to hang on his taile,
Is as rich in his rags, as the churle in his bags,
If he once but shakes hands with a &c.
It drives his poverty cleane out of minde,
Forgeting his brown-bread, his wallet, and maile,
He walks in the house like a six-footed lowse,
If he once be enricht with a &c.
And he that doth dig in the ditches all day,
And wearies himselfe quite at the Plough-taile,
Will speak no lesse things, than of Queens and of Kings,
If he touch but the top of a &c.
'Tis like a whetstone to a blunt wit,
And makes a supply where Nature doth faile:
The dullest wit soon will look quite through the Moon,
If his temples be wet with a &c.
Then DICK to his Dearling, full boldly dares speak,
Though before (silly fellow) his courage did quaile,
He gives her the smouch, with his hand on his pouch,
If he meet by the way with a &c.
And it make the Carter a Courtier straightway;
With Rhetoricall terms he will tell his tale;
With Courtesies great store, and his Cap up before
Being school'd but a little with a &c.
The Old man, whose tongue wags faster than his teeth,
(For old-age by nature doth drivel and drale)
Will frig and will fling, like a dog in a string,
If he warme his cold bloud with a &c.
And the good Old Clark, whose sight waxeth dark,
And ever he thinks the Print is too small:
He will see every Letter, and say Service better,
If he glaze but his eyes with a &c.
The Cheeks and the Jawes, to commend it hath cause,
For where they were late but even wan and pale:
They will get them a colour, no Crimson is fuller,
By the true dy and tincture of a &c.
Mark her enemies, though they think themselves wise,
How meager they look, with how low a wail:
How their cheeks do fall, without spirits at all,
That alien their minds from a &c.
And now that the grains do work in my brains,
Me thinks I were able to give by retaile,
Commodities store, a dozen and more,
That flow to mankind from a &c.
The MUSES would muse, any should it misuse;
For, it makes them to sing like a Nightingale,
With a lofty trim note, having washed their throat,
With the Caballine Spring of a &c.
And the Musician of any condition,
It will make him reach to the top of his Scale:
It will clear his pipes, and moisten his lights,
If he drink alternatim a &c.
The Poet divine, that cannot reach wine,
Because that his mony doth many times fail;
Will hit on the Vein, to make a good strein,
If he be but inspired with a &c.
For Ballads ELDERTON never had Peer,
How went his wit in them, with how merry a gale:
And with all the sails up, had he been at the cup,
And washed his beard with a &c.
All Writers or Rimers, for such whose mishap,
Is from Newgate up Houlbourn, to Tyburn to sail;
Shall have suddain expression of all their confession,
If the Muse be but dew'd with a &c.
And the power of it shows, no whit lesse in Prose,
It will file one's Phrase, and set forth his tale:
Fill him but a Boul, it will make his tongue troul,
For flowing speech flows from a &c.
And Master Philosopher, if he drink his part,
Will not trifle his time in the Husk or the Shale;
But go to the Kernell by the depth of his Art,
To be found in the bottom of a &c.
Give a Scholar of OXFORD a pot of Sixteens,
And put him to prove that an Ape hath a tail:
And sixteen times better his Wit will be seen,
If you fetch him from Botley, a &c.
Thus it helps Speech and Wit; And it hurts not a whit,
But rather doth further the Virtues morale:
Then think it not much, if a little I touch
The good moral parts of a &c.
To the Church and Religion it is a good friend,
Or else our Forefathers their wisdome did faile,
That at every mile, next to the Church stile,
Set a consecrate house to a &c.
But now as they say, Beer beares it away;
The more is the pity, if Right might prevaile:
For with this same Beer, came up Heresie here;
The old Catholique Drink is a &c.
This Beer's but an upstart from Dutchland here come,
Whose Credit with us sometimes is but small:
For in the Records of the Empire of Rome,
The old Catholique Drink is a &c.
O! the ancient tales that my Grandam hath told,
How merry we have been in Parlour and Hall;
How in Christmas time, we would dance, sing, and rime,
As if we were mad with a &c.
The Churches much owe, as we all do know;
For when they be drooping and ready to fall,
By a Whitson or Church-Ale, up again they shall goe,
And owe their repairing to a &c.
Truth will do it right, it brings Truth to light,
And many bad matters it helps to reveile;
For, they that will drinke, will speak what they think;
TOM tell-troate lies hid in a &c.
It is Justices friend, she will it commend:
For, all is here served by measure and tale:
Now true-tale and good measure are Justices treasure
And much to the praise of a &c.
And next I alledge, it is Fortitudes edge:
For a very Cow-herd, that shrinks like a Snaile,
Will swear and will swagger, and out goes his dagger,
If he be but arm'd with a &c.
Yea, ALE hath her Knights and Squires of degree,
That never wore Corslet, nor yet shirt of Mail,
But have fought their fights all, 'twixt the pot and the wall,
When once they were dubb'd with a &c.
And (sure) it will make a man suddenly wise,
Er'e-while was scarce able to tell a right tale:
It will open his jaw, he will tell you the Law,
As made a right-Bencher of a &c.
Or he that will make a bargain to gaine,
In buying or setting his goods forth to sale
Must not plod in the mire, but sit by the fire,
And seal up his Match with a &c.
But for Sobernesse needs must I confesse,
The matter goes hard: and few doe prevaile
Not to goe too deep, but temper to keep,
Such is the Attractive of a &c.
But here's an amends, which will make all friends,
And ever doth tend to the best avail;
If you take it too deep, it will make you but sleep;
So comes no great harm of a &c.
If (reeling) they happen to fall to the ground,
The fall is not great they may hold by the Raile:
If into the water, they cannot be drown'd,
For that gift is given to a &c.
If drinking about they chance to fall out,
Feare not the Alarm, though flesh be but frail,
It will prove but some blows, or at most a bloudy nose,
And friends again streight with a &c.
And Physick will favour ALE, as it is bound,
And be against Beer both tooth and nail:
They send up and down all over the Town,
To get for their Patients a &c.
Their Ale-berries, Cawdles, and Possets each one,
And Sillabubs made at the milking-pale,
Although they be many, Beer comes not in any,
But all are compos'd with a &c.
And in very deed, the Hop's but a weed,
Brought o're against Law, and here set to sale:
Would the Law were renew'd, and no more Beer brew'd,
But all good men partake them to a &c.
The Law that will take it under her wing:
For at every Law-day, or Moot of the hale,
One is sworn to serve our Soveraign the KING,
In the ancient Office of a CONNER of ALE.
There's never a Lord of Mannor or of Town,
By strand or by land, by hill or by dale,
But thinks it a Franchise, and a Flowr of the CROWN,
To hold the Assize of a &c.
And though there ly writs, from the Courts Paramoūt,
To stay the proceedings of the Cours Paravaile;
Law favours it so, you may come, you may go,
There lies no Prohibition to a &c.
They talk much of State, both early and late,
But if Gascoign and Spain, their Wine should but fail,
No remedy then, with us Englishmen,
But the State it must stand by a &c.
And they that sit by it, are good men and quiet,
No dangerous Plotters in the Common-weal
Of Treason and Murther: for, they never go further,
Than to call for, and pay for a &c.
To the praise of CAMBRIVIUS that good Brittish King
That devised for his Nation (by the Welshmens tale)
Seventeen hundred years before CHRIST did spring,
The happy invention of a &c.
But he was a Paynim, and ALE then was rife,
Yet after CHRIST came and bid us all hail,
Saint DAVID tid never trink Peer in her life,
But all Cwwrwwhibley a &c.
The North they will prayse it, and prayse it with passion,
Where every River gives name to a Dale:
There men are yet living, that are of th'old fashion,
No Nectar they know but a &c.
The PICTS and the SCOTS, for ALE, were at lots,
So high was the skill, and so kept under seal:
The PICTS were undone, slain each mothers son,
For not teaching the SCOTS to make Hether Eale.
But hither or thither, it skils not much whether:
For drink must be had, men live not by Keal,
Nor by Havor-bannocks, nor by Havor-jannocks,
The thing that SCOTS live on is a &c.
Now, if you will say it, I will not denay it,
That many a man it brings to his bale:
Yet what fairer end, can one wish to his friend,
Than to die by the dart of a &c.
Yet, let not the innocent beare any blame,
It is their own doings to break o're the pale:
And neither the Mault nor the good Wife in fault,
If any be potted with a &c.
They tell whom it kills, but say not a word,
How many a man liveth both sound and hale,
Though he drink no beer any day in the yeare,
By the Radicall humour of a &c.
But, to speak of Killing, that am I not willing,
For that, in a manner, were but to raile:
But Beer hath his name, cause it brings to the Buyer;
Therefore well-fare say I to a &c.
Too many (I wis) with their deaths proved this;
And wherefore if ancient Records do not faile)
He that first brew'd the Hop, was rewarded with a rope,
And found his Beer far more bitter then ALE.
O ALE ab alendo thou Liquor of LIFE!
That I had but a mouth as big as a Whale!
For mine is too little to touch the least tittle
That belongs to the prayse of a &c.
Thus (I trow) some Vertues I have marked you out,
And never a Vice in all this long traile,
But that after the Pot there commeth a Shot,
And thats th'only blot of a &c.
With that my friend said: That Blot will I bear,
You have done very well, it is time to strike saile;
Wee'l have six pots more, though I die on the score,
To make all this good of a Pot of good ALE.

EPIGRAMMES, Written on purpose to be read: WITH A PROVISO, That they may be understood by the READER; Being Ninety in Number: Besides, two new made Satyres that attend them.

[1.] To the good or bad Reader.

Read well, and then these following lines are mine,
But read them like a (Botcher) they are thine.
Such vertue from some Readers doth proceed,
They make the Verse the better which they read:
They know their Idioms, Accents, Emphases,
Comma's, Stops, Colons, and Parenthesis,
Full Points, and Periods, briefe Apostraphes;
Good knowing Readers understand all these:
But such as dares my Booke to take in hand,
Who scarce can read, or spell, or understand;
Yet (like Sir reverence Geese) they will be gagling,
And teare my Lines to tatters with their hagling;
Such I request (if Batchelours they bee)
To leave my Book, and learn their A, B, C:
If married men they be, let them take paine,
To exercise their Horn-books once againe.

2. Of friends.

Hee's happy that hath friends at need (I wot)
Hee's happier that hath friends, and needs them not.

3. Unity, Enmity, Amity.

Our Unity is turn'd to Enmity,
And Enmity hath banish'd Amity.

4. Of Credit.

Ralph deepe in Debt, curst Creditors and Credit,
And seemes to shew some reasons why he did it:
'Twas Credit made his Creditors to trust him,
Sans Credit, into jayle they had not thrust him.

5. Honest Jone.

Jone is a perfect Mayd, who dares gainsay it,
No Faults I in her Honesty can see;
Her carriage dares bide touch and test, but weigh it,
No honesty amongst her Faults can bee.

6. Teeth and Hornes.

Teeth breeding and Tooth-aking is most painfull,
But Wittalls breeding Horns, hath oft been gainfull.

7. Of Seales and Armes.

Eagles and Lyons, Kings of Birds and Beasts,
Adorne mens Seales and Armes with honour'd Crests:
But Beasts are Beasts, and fairest Fowles are Fowle,
And many a Knaves Seale's better then his Soule.

8. Thrifty preaching.

He that will preach for Wealth and Dignity
Must Simon Peters Doctrine quite refuse:
'Tis Simon Magus, his Hypocrisie
Mounts such as cunningly their craft can use.

9. Devout Margery.

My sister Margery is sins Correcter,
Of purest sisters thread she'le spin a Lecture:
She'le stand and preach as long as she can stir,
It is not standing long can trouble her.

10. Things done by neither wise men or fooles.

Wise men will not do as Great men have done,
And Fooles cannot into such madnesse run:
Thus Wit nor Folly, neither will or can
Do mischiefe like the foole-wise, rash-proud man.

11. Labour in vaine.

A rayling Knave can libell and revile
With tongue and pen, his worke about to bring;
But wisdome hath the power at him to smile,
Whilst Rascalls gain the Gallows and a string.

12. Hang pride.

Why in gay Garments do fond fooles take pride?
Cloaths are sins pennance, made to hide our shame;
Had man forborn to sin, no man had dy'd,
And cloaths (like fig-leaves) cannot hide nor blame.

13. Another.

Something (I know not what) hath made me proud,
I know 'tis neither Lands, or Coyne, nor cloathing;
Nor of such parts, wherewith my mindes endow'd,
But I am proud, that I am proud of nothing.

14. Another to the same tune.

According to the wearers worthynesse
I do esteeme, or not esteeme Apparell;
An outside brave, an inside base may dresse,
For tryall shews what Liquor's in the Barrell.

15. Just payment.

I rather would doe well, and not be prais'd,
Then to doe ill, and have much commendation:
For by the one to blisse I may be rais'd,
And by the other gain my condemnation.

16. Content.

If I have Health, I will no sicknesse feare,
If I be Sick, of Health I'le not dispaire:
Let God doe with me what he pleaseth here,
If Fortune wrong me, Hope shall me repaire.

17. Sufficient knowledge.

Hee's wise enough, that knows enough, but he
That would know more then is enough's a foole:
Our Parents knew, but knowing more would be,
And knew too much out of the Serpents Schoole.

18. Of Death.

Our dayly minding Death doth sweeten it,
It makes us dye no sooner, but more fit.

19. Well and ill.

To doe good without promise, is a grace,
To promise, and not doe, is vile and base:
Rich Knaves doe poore Fooles with vaine hopes oft fill
With promises of good, performing ill.

20. Beware Hypocrisie.

He that doth say his Prayers, and goes to bed,
Forgives his foes, forgets revenge and spite,
And straight wayes hammers mischiefe in his head,
The Divell is his bedfellow that night.

21. Of the fashion.

To be in fashion, 'tis the only way
To be quite out of fashion, if you can
To be fantastick, shapelesse in aray,
And all Religions is an English man.

22. Of speech.

To speake all that I know, would shew small wit,
To speake more then I know, were worse then it.

23. On long and short life.

If life be long, 'tis troublesome and weary,
Their Miseries are most that longest tarry:
We make the bad world worse, he travells best
That soonest ends his journy, and at rest.

24. Of true friendships use.

'Tis happynesse to have a Friend at need,
But if my Folly slight that happynesse:
Like him that spares to speake, may spare to speed,
So too much manners leaves us in distresse.

25. Better lost then kept.

Who e're he be, that seemes my friend to be,
And headlong runs in every vicious course:
His friendship sure will never better me,
And I'le forsake him, lest he make me worse.

26. Extreames.

Woe is in want, and dangers in excesse
To live and give, I wish no more or lesse:
Content's enough, some men are weake, some stronger,
And more doe dye by surfeits then by hunger.

27. A fig for Fortune.

Fortune my foe doth frown on me, but why?
Because I'le not adore her Diety:
She scornes me, and I scorne to be her thrall,
Much lower then I am, I cannot fall.

28. Good gain'd from bad.

When as a bad man doth good Doctrine teach,
His words, but not his workes to me doe preach:
His sayings all are mine, his are his deeds,
I have the Hearbs and Flowers, and he the Weeds.

29. How I would be esteemed.

I rather would be innocent and free,
And (on suspition) wrongfully corrected:
Then to be guilty of great crimes, and be
In high regard, respected, unsuspected.

30. Reverence to Saints.

I reverence all Saints dead, and all that live,
I honour much their blessed memory;
But if Gods glory unto Saints I give,
How can I hope God will me glorifie?

31. Do thy worst blind Fortune.

If Fortune tosse me, yet I still have scope
To fear her smiles, and when she frownes to hope.

32. Want of knowledge.

Had I e're thought that money would be scant,
I had kept some against these times of want:
Or had I known what Ware would be sold dear,
I would have been a Merchant but one year.

33. Had I wist.

If thou wilt quiet be at Board and Bed,
Beware of, had I wist, before thou Wed:
Comfort comes slow, but cares increase in heaps;
A wise man therefore looks before he leaps.

34. Fast and loose.

Fast bind, fast find: my Bible was well bound;
A Thiefe came fast, and loose my Bible found:
Was't bound and loose at once? how can that be?
'Twas loose for him, although 'twas bound for me.

35. A lye, and no lye.

Tis not still out of sight and out of minde,
For one may mind his meat that is stark blind:
But he that's blind, and hath no mind to eat,
Then out of sight and mind, is that mans meat.

36. True Love.

He that can live by love, lives wondrous well;
True love beyond all treasure doth excell:
Give me that Love to live well, and to trust
In God and goodnesse, other love is lust.

37. Treasure.

Love is no lack: yet what I love I lack,
A constant friend, whose friendship will not crack:
Give me a friend that's true, and he shall have
My Love (Sans) Lack, till I am in my Grave.

38. To be rul'd, or not rul'd.

The Proverb faith: Be't better, or be't worse,
Be alwayes rul'd by him that beares the Purse:
But Judas bore the Purse, and such as he,
I hope shall never beare rule over me.

39. Wit bought too deare.

They say, Wit's never good till it be bought,
And being bought too deare it proves stark naught:
Such wit had they whose ill got pounds and pence
Bought bloudy war, and hunted Peace from hence.

40. All comes to one passe.

Dick, and Tom borrowed Gold, and like true debters,
Non-payment shakled them in iron fetters:
Were the debt iron, fetters gold, what then?
Poor Dick and Tom were ne're the richer men.

41. A hopefull Boy.

The Boy sayd, Father, whither so hastily?
Quoth he to th'Butchers, Jack, some Biefe to buy:
Father, he'le cheat you if you go alone;
Take the Dog with you, two heads better than one.

42. A plain case.

'Tis no dissembling, (as I understand)
T'hold fire in one, and water in tother hand:
One hand the pipe holds, with fire smoak, and smother,
When often good strong Water's in the other.

43. All is true.

Thou that with brags thy furious Fame supportest,
Remember that the curst Cows horns are shortest:
The bawling Cur will very seldome bite,
And bragging Knaves can better eat than fight.

44. Well grown is good.

In twelve years, Grace a fine tall womans grown,
Shot up in height, the like is seldome known:
The times are bad, if Grace prove good, then Grace
Is well grown; but Ill weeds will grow apace.

45. Few faults.

Most men have many faults, but Ned hath none,
Amongst the many he hath scarcely one:
He's so much faultlesse in meat, drink, and cloathing,
And other sins, that he is good for nothing.

46. A chac'd unchaste woman.

Will prais'd his Wife, a vertuous Dame to be,
And that few females were so chaste as she:
If thou hadst sworn it (Will) thou hadst not ly'd
For she was chac'd by Whippers through Cheapside.

47. To be quiet or unquiet.

To hear much, to say little, and do lesse,
Are great preservatives of quietnesse:
But to hear little, say much, and do more,
Such dispositions shall have trouble store.

48. Avoyd Hypocrisie.

Faults with Hypocrisie that cover'd are,
Are worse than crimes that be stark naked bare:
He may mend whose bad deeds are still in sight,
But there's no Devill to the Hypocrite.

49. Freedome and Bondage.

When one gives to me freely, I know well,
That for his freenesse, I my freedome sell:
For unto him that gives I must conclude,
I am bound fast in Bonds of gratitude.

50. Glorious Vanity.

He that his Reputation seeks to raise,
By praysing of himselfe, himselfe disprayseth:
Though he for Arts and Arms do merit praise,
His glory's vaine, whom selfe vain-glory raiseth.

51. Of just anger.

I may be angry, and no mallice beare,
I must be angry with my sins I wot:
It is a vertue few can purchase here,
At once to be both angry and sin not.

52. Wilfull Will.

'Tis apt for men to fall in Errours vaine,
From bad to worse, from worse to worst of ill:
But he's a foolish Reprobate in graine,
That willing falls, and wilfully lies still.

53. A brace of Beagles.

A Sland'rer, and a Flatt'rer are Vile Beasts,
One's devilish wild, the other's damned tame;
Where ere they come they are accursed Guests,
They murther soule and body, name and fame.

54. A good Memento.

No cursed Lucre in my minde shall creep,
Sins sad remembrance robs me of my sleep:
One day of life doth shoave another on,
Untill one after one, my dayes are done.

55. Mutability.

In various times we dayly live and move,
To day a mighty man on Cockhorse mounted,
To morrow Fortune gives him a remove,
And as an abject Knave he is accounted.

56. Good Greatnesse.

Most sweet, most Worthy, Honourable, Great
Is he that for his God and Countrey dyes:
The world shall with his praises be repleat,
And grace with glory him immortalize.

57. Of Angels.

Invisible two sorts of Angels are,
And those celestiall and infernall be:
And Earthly Angels, like black Swans are rare,
Meer strangers all, invisible to me.

58. The Crosse brings glory.

A Christians crosses glory doth begin,
That glory doth not end his misery:
But yet that misery shall glory win,
And Grace will crowne it with eternity.

59. Words are winde.

Words are but wind that do from men proceed,
None but Camelions on bare Aire can feed:
Great men large hopefull promises may utter;
But words did never Fish or Parsnips butter.

60. Feares and jealousies.

The sting of conscience, Jealousies and Feares,
Makes mad men fall together by the eares:
If these three were all banish'd into Hell,
(From whence they came) all would be peace and well.

61. B and C.

How can the word call'd Changed, Hanged B?
With ease, if you but take away the C.

62. Adoration.

All knees shall bow at Jesus Name, but not
To Jesus Image will I bow one jot.

63. Honest Besse May.

Besse May may honest be, who e're sayes nay,
But May once past, there are eleven months more:
'Tis mighty odds, and I will never lay
Eleven to one: Besse May may be a Whore.

64. Quick and free passage.

Who sayes the Gospel hath not passage free?
He lies most basely, if he were my Brother:
If passeth so quick, that it seems to flee
Too swiftly, in at one eare, out at t'other.

65. Desperate Dick.

Dick is a desperate fellow, but at what?
He hath no mercy on his meat, or Wench:
He drank a Dutch man drunk as any Ratt,
He's stouter at a Trencher, then a Trench.

67. A slovenly Schollar.

In Tristram it is hard to be discern'd,
Whether he is most sloven, or most learn'd:
He weares his cloaths most foule, rides without
Yet learnedly speakes sentences in sirrops.

68. To a scornfull Reader.

Grave Ignoramus, cries tush, pish, mew,
And on my lines lookes dunsicall a skew:
And draws his mouth in scorn so near his eare,
So much awry, he seems to whisper there.

69. Manna and Mammon.

Mammon, (corrruply gaind) compare I may
To Manna, gatherd on the Sabboth day:
They are the Devils blessings, but Gods curse
Unto the soule, the body and the purse.

70. Blind zeale.

Zeale contrary to knowledge, is not right,
Theres too much heat in't, and too little light:
He that in perfect Zeale would be compleat,
Let him have true light, he shall want no heat.

71. On the late Kings poore servants.

We never did in armes the State offend,
Yet want of means makes misery our end:
Had we the Fortune but to be believ'd.
Our happynes would be, to be reliev'd.

72. A good faith.

He that wants Faith, and apprehends the griefe
Of what he wants, he hath a true beliefe:
He that doth grieve, because his griefe's too small,
Hath a true griefe, but the best Faith of all.

73. Gluttony inward and outward.

Mans Maw consumes (by Gluttony's command)
Fish, Fowle, Fruits, Beasts, from Sea, or Ayre, and Land;
And in his words his glut'nous mouth doth sin,
More oft by giving out, then taking in.

74. Sir reverence love.

Tom swore to Kate, her sweet and comely making
Had fill'd him full of rumbling belly aking:
Sweet heart (quoth he) I shall be grieved thus,
Till I in thy sweet presence do untruss.

75. Kates kind Answer.

For thy sake Tom, my prayer, and plaint, and mone is,
I love thee Dear, as Venus lov'd Adonis:
And therefore let not thy affections wander,
I'le love thee as the Goose doth love the Gander.

76. Brave resolution.

Will is all heart, and like a Hart can run,
He's wise in Battle, that can danger shun:
If strong hands cannot victory attain,
Yet light and nimble heeles may safety gain.

77. Leggs worthy of love.

A Cut-purse cuts, and swiftly ran away,
But yet for all his nimble fingers cunning,
Hands deserv'd hanging, legs without delay
Sav'd all the body from it, by swift running.

78. Paine with pleasure.

My Ladies shooe did pinch her, and yet please her,
her painfull pride her pretty foot did grace:
It did at once both anger and appease her,
Whilst smiles and frownes danc'd Anticks in her face.

79. Friends are better then Lovers.

Lovers and Friends are two things; he that loves
May waver, and not alwayes be a Friend;
But he that is a friend experience proves
His Love and Friendship's constant to the end.

80. Of lying and giving.

Why are not Maids afraid to Lye, declare,
Most men with lying buy and sell their Ware:
But many Maids do neither sell or buy,
They Give their Maidenheads, and then they Lye.

81. Great Place, small Grace.

When Great (not Goodmen) Offices possesse,
Who are Revengefull, Greedy, and oppresse;
Dismisse such Knaves, that so their Place disgraces,
And let good Places, still remaine the Places.

82. A great Witch.

Pride is a Witch, few from her charme escapes,
She turns us dayly into sundry shapes:
She hath her Spirits, who do work like Thrashers,
Mercers, soft Silke-men, Taylors, Habberdashers.

83. Repast, and Repose.

The Rich man hath Repast, but small Repose,
The poor man hath repose, with small Repast:
One alwayes strives to gaine, and fears to lose,
The other with content doth please his tast.

84. Sunday.

The Lords Day is the Lanthorne and the Light
Of th'other six dayes, to direct us Right:
Or like the Sun, amidst the Planets seven,
To light us heer on Earth, and hence to Heaven.

85. Sabaoth.

The Jewes observ'd the Sabaoth constantly
In memory of Rest, and their Creation:
We should our Sundayes keep obediently,
To minde us of Redemption and Salvation.

86. A sweet Saint.

Phillip doth think his Wife's a Saint, and shee
In pure pride thinks her selfe a Saint to bee:
Shee'le scold, be proud, and in a corner kiss,
And this is Phillips Saint, the Devill she is.

87. Want and abundance.

A man may want Coyn, Cloaths, Drink, and Meat,
He may want health, sight, hearing, hands, and toes,
But cares, and griefes and sorrows, may be great,
The late Kings servants have no want of those.

88. A hard businesse.

Should Whores and Thieves be all hang'd, 'twere great pity,
'Twould halfe unpeople Country, Towne, and City:
But hang up Drunkards, Swearers, Whorers, then
(And all the Knaves) what should we do for men?

89. Thoughts and words.

My Thoughts are free, I wish my tongue were so,
Then would I freely speake what I do think;
But yet my tongue, too boldly shall not go,
It is more safe at injuries to wink.

90. Good mornings practise.

First worship God, he that forgets to pray,
Bids not himselfe good morrow, or good day:
Let thy first worke be, to confesse thy sins,
And then thy dayly businesse well begins.

A SATYRE: Hypocrisie discovered.

A holy crew of brethren conventickl'd
With Scriptures strange Interpretations pickl'd;
And sanctified sisters, whose nonsence
Snoach'd through the Nose, their Doctrines quintessence:
They held unlawfull, and that no man may
So much as dresse his meat on th'Sabboth day:
Another sayd (like a most subtle plodder)
Folke must not milke their Cowes, nor give Beast fodder:
The third replyd, it was a grievous crime
To let their Jacks turn spits in Sermon time:
But if ought must be done without delaying,
It's to be done whilst Common Prayer's saying;
For when that's ended, straight the Psalme begins,
And they'l go singing to repent their sins:
Then said a fourth, it fils my heart with wo
To see a Preacher ride, Christ bad them go
And teach all Nations, verily to me
This riding is no godly sight to see:
A fift man sayd (brethren) it is my lot
(As you all know) to sell Ale by the pot:
And (my belov'd) my Brewer brought me late
Ale, a french crown the barrell above rate:
But had not Orders from the State forbid it,
To buy such drinke, sure I should ne're have did it:
The Saturday at night they brought it in,
The Sabboth day to worke it did begin:
Surely 'twas most prophane unhallowed drink
Brewd with some Jewes, or Turkish Mault I thinke;
For I perswaded it from worke to leave,
And more and more it still did huffe and heave:
I with much griefe unto the teaching went,
Where Giles the Weaver gave me much content;
The next day I the Barrels head beat out,
And let the Ale run all the house about;
As good for nought but hogs to swill and swash,
And for the Swine 'twas comfortable wash:
Brother (sayd one) although too dear you payd,
You did do well, because you disobeyed;
And you did better (as all wise men thinke)
When (zealously) you spilt that wicked drinke.
Another sayd, when I did set mine eye on
The Kings Armes in the Church, the Rampant Lyon;
His priap mov'd concupiscentiall motions,
And did disturbe and hinder my devotions:
But when my husband came to be Church-warden,
I'le have some form of Flowers from Field or Garden,
Or sedge, or flags betwixt his legs were painted,
That hid his whimwham which my minde had tainted.

A Satyre against swearing, equivocation, mentall reservation, and detestable dissimulation.

To pretend, and the contrary to intend,
With th'World began, and with the World shall end:
The Divell himselfe (who first made man a sinner)
Of this dissembling Art, was the beginner.
Since when, his Sons, and Schollars, Hypocrites,
Accursed Antichristian Jesuites,
Christ kissing trayterous bast Iscariothites,
Soule foundred, soules confounding Hereticks,
All cheverell conscienc'd cockbrain'd Schismaticks.
With many nicknam'd Romane Catholicks;
And every Heresie, and Schisme, or Sect,
All diffring, and all boast to be th'Elect:
Pretending all, true zeale to preach and pray,
Intending all the clean contrary way.
Amazed, and amated much I am
To see Great Brittain turn'd to Amsterdam;
Six years agone we had of Sex fourescore,
Which are encreast now to one hundred more:
A Book that's call'd the Gangrean, printed late,
Their Authors and Opinions doth repeat:
Ninescore Religions that book sheweth cleer,
Lord, what a Harvest hath the Devill made heer:
Those all pretend Religion, but indeed
Most of them scarcely know their Christian Creed.
The Devill can turn himselfe t'an Angell bright,
Seem to pretend no wrong, yet do no right:
He did pretend to make our Parents great,
As is their Maker, but by that defeat
He did intend, like to himselfe to make 'em
Fiends (or fiends fellows) that God might forsake 'em.
Cain did pretend with Abell, like a friend
And brother, when he murther did intend:
When Absolon seem'd to pretend no ill
To Amnon, he intended him to kill;
He did pretend Religions good desire,
When he his Fathers Throne intends t'aspire:
Achitophell pretended Truth and Reason,
When he intended foolishnesse and treason:
Saul did pretend great love to David, but
He did intend how he his throat might cut:
Joab pretended to be Abners friend,
When (with a stab) he brought him to his end:
The wicked Jewes (with noyse) Hosanna cri'd
To him, they few dayes after crucifi'd:
And Judas sayd, haile Master, when he meant
Foule treason, to betray the Innocent:
Thus in all Ages, since the Worlds Creation,
Both Devils and men have us'd Equivocation:
For as a cunning Fencer, looking down,
Aymes at the foot, but means to crack the crown
So squint eyd, true, false friendship, seems to see,
But ne're intends, what it pretends to bee:
We're too much leavend, like the Pharisees,
And to all goodnesse meere Antipodes:
He's counted the best man, that best can prate,
Though's deeds and words be illegitimate.
If our good words with good works could agree,
The world no better people had then we:
Yet too too many this bad time affords
That cannot give to God or man good words;
Nor for themselves, or of themselves can they
Speak one good word in any thing they say.
Their speech to God (or of God) is most base,
To curse or sweare are th'only garbs of grace:
Their prayers unto God are, God dam, forsake 'em,
Renounce, confound, consume, the Devill take 'em;
Sink, rot their soules, for evermore renounce 'em,
Consume them, or in hell to powder pounce 'em:
These, with some prayers like these, they night and da
With great devotion fervently do pray.
To God they speak thus, but when they speak of him,
'Tis either to blaspheam, deride, or scoffe him;
With cursed tongues, and teeth, to rend and teare
His dreadfull name, when they forsweare and sweare.
Too oft these wretched Imps these oaths afford,
By God, Christ Jesus, by the living Lord,
By God Almighty, by th'eternall God,
Thus under foot his glorious name is trod
By godlesse Villains, who will brag and boast
That He's the bravest man that sweareth most.
God is no God to them, they do reject him,
Like skild Anatomists they will dissect him;
They rip him up with Oaths from foot to head,
His wounds, blood, heart, nailes, body, soule, and bread,
His blessed and soule-saving life, his death,
These cursed oaths are belch'd with th'odious breath
Of Hels dear hel-hounds, who to practise these,
They lie and study on their beds of ease.
To flourish their discourse, their brains are framing
New coyned oaths, to grace pots, pipes, and gaming.
Sure these good fellows have some friends in hell,
And with them they desire to be and dwell;
Or ese they have a great desire to see
Hels Kingdome, and what things the Devils bee.
And as men that would travell, would attaine
Some knowledge in the tongues of France, or Spaine,
Th'Italian, or the High, Low, spacious Dutch,
The Russe, Shavonian, Latine, Greeke, or such
As is the language where they mean to go,
Each Traveller these tongues would gladly know,
That when they came to any forraine Land,
They might the peoples speeches understand:
So swearers will to hell a voyage make,
And therefore they most studious pains do take
To learn hels language, to blaspheam and sweare,
That all their friends may understand them there:
These men in their mad furies do suppose
That Hel's a Kingdome where all pleasure grows;
And that Elyzium is a pleasant place,
Where soules immortall dance the wild-goose chase:
Their stupid brains the Devill hath so possest,
That Hel's a place of wealth, joy, peace, and rest;
That Heaven's a fiction, and no place of pleasure,
That to be damn'd is everlasting treasure:
This is the cause they scorne to aske salvation,
And pray God dam 'em, and beg for damnation.
'Tis wonder to see mad men beat their brains
To gain perdition, and eternall pains:
Of God they (like the foole) do think there's none,
Or that he is a weake and simple one;
One that regards not what men do below,
Or sees not, knows not, how the world doth go;
This is the swearers faith, his mirth, his game,
Else he durst ne're blaspeam th'Almighties name.
Pluto's and asse, and Belzebub's a foole,
'And Lucifer himselfe may go to schoole;
For all the Conclave of the Devils in Hell
Cannot a cursed swearer parallell:
Sometimes of Christianity they'l prate,
Yet live a life, abhord and reprobate.
'Tis sayd, that charity at home begins,
And that love hids a multitude of sins;
Subjection to high Powers we are enjoynd,
Obedience unto all of every kind,
Of these rare vertues, swearers have no share,
To no body they charitable are;
I truely think he loves himselfe not well,
That prayes God dam him, and doth wish for Hell:
Want of selfe love and charity do prove
He beares to no man charity or love.
If to himselfe his love no better be,
His charity and love is not for me:
Can they do service to an earthly King,
That oaths and curses against God dare fling?
No, those as dare the heavenly power blaspheam
Are no good servants for power lesse supream:
The wrath of God is hot, his anger burns,
And for vain swearing, the whole Land now mourns;
This Nation, and the people at division,
No peace but by the sanguine swords decision.
The Land's o'respread with leprosie of swearing,
And Gods great patience weary of forbearing;
For which his plagues of slaughtering sword we find,
And 'tis much fear'd famine's not far behind:
Yet swearers to be Christians do pretend,
Though (worse then Atheists) they their lives do spend;
That Pagans, Heathens, Infidels, Jewes, Turkes,
Sweare lesse, and use better words and workes.
Time was, that Justice did the sword unsheath,
That the blaspheamer strait was ston'd to death;
And in this wicked wretched Generation,
Swearing is counted manly reputation,
Or recreation, or the Gentile grace
Of speeches fine Embrodery, like gold lace
Upon a saddle, which a sow must weare,
So it becomes a Gentleman to sweare:
The Devill is bad, but sure the swearer's worse,
For I ne're heard the Devill did sweare or curse.
What execrable creatures are they then,
But Hell-hounds, and the Devils Journy-men?
Himselfe doth scorn to do a worke so base,
His basest Rascals do supply that place:
How can these men plead Christianity,
When as they want common humanity?
Mad fooles, who every day do beg and crave
Damnation, which they would be loth to have.
The sacred Text, the Pulpit, and the Presse
Have prest these faults hard to mens consciences;
Yet all that ever hath been spoke or pend,
Hath made the swearer not a whit amend:
These bitter lines of mine, may worke perhaps
To Muzzle or bung up some swearers chaps:
God and good men I'm sure are on my side,
And I (in all that's written) have not lyde:
Some do pretend a peace, and much do prattle,
Yet do intend to bloodshed, and to battle:
But let them never claime a Christian name,
Whose trade and pleasure is in blood and flame
Of their dear Country, and rip, rend, and tear
Their mothers womb, which did such bastards bear.
These sons of Hittites, and of Amorites,
God do to them, as to the Midianites.

Psal. 8 3.

Make them as Jabin, and as Sisera dy'd
At Endors field, where Kishons Brook doth slyd.
As they became as dung, so let them bee
That to a lawfull peace will not agree.
The Peace of God, grant us, thou God of Peace,
Let us cease sin, thou wilt our sorrows cease;
Let's frame our lives according to thy word,
And let no sword be drawn, but Justice sword:
To which end, thou good God of consolation,
Send blessed Peace to this afflicted Nation.

THE CERTAIN TRAVAILES of an uncertain JOURNEY, Begun on Tuesday the 9. of August, and ended on Saturday the 3. of September following, 1653.

A merry Bill of an uncertaine Journey, to bee performed by John Taylor, by Land, with his Aqua Musa.

To all my Friends, and courteous Gentlemen,
Know, that my journey is, I know not when:
Unto the parts I goe, I know not where,
Or of my entertainement far or neare;
Thus neither knowing when, or where, or whether,
Begun, or done, or both ends brought together,
When I this unknowne Walke have put in print,
Each man to's pocket, put your fingers in't,
And for my Booke then give me what you list,
To which end, to this Bill, take pen in fist,
And write your names and habitations down,
I'le finde you when againe I come to Towne.

The certainty of the uncertaine Travels of John Taylor, performed in this yeere 1653.

[Amongst the Muses where the number Nine is]

Amongst the Muses where the number Nine is,
The learned Poets end their Works with Finis:
But when unlearned I have Volumes pen'd,
Finis is Latine, English Done's an End.

To all my Friends that have subscribed their Names and dwellings to my Bill.

According as you pay, or pay me not;
So is my lucky or unlucky Lot:
I have made use of many friends before
Age tels me now I shall do so no more.
Some friends I have, and some small share of wit,
And want hath forc'd me to vse them, and it.
I, in my best of wishes will include
Their kindnesse, and my humble gratitude.