University of Virginia Library

Liber Tertius.

[My Booke is not for learned men nor wise]

My Booke is not for learned men nor wise,
Nor mery nor conceipted, nor the plaine:
Nor angry, foolish, criticall or nice.
Nor olde nor young, nor sober, nor the vaine.
Nor for the proud, nor for the couetous,
Nor for the Gentleman, nor the Clowne:
Nor for the glutton, nor adulterous,
Nor for the valiant worthy of renowne.
Nor for the thrifty, nor the prodigall,
But if thou needs will know for whom? for all.

Epigr. 2. In Corum.

Corus desires with them to haue a place,
Whom my sleight muse of right doth celebrate.
Avant ye peasant, for you are too base.
What you among the worthies of our state?
How should I fitt you with a trough or sinke,
Or plant a kenell for your worthinesse,
But that the rest for neighbourhood must stinke,
And be confiners to your filthynesse?
I tooke myne oath Thalia at thy shryne,
Ne're to embrue my verses with a swyne.

Epigr. 3. Ad Iohannem Dauis.

If witt may make a Poet, as I gesse,
Heywood with auncient Poets may I compare.
But thou in word and deed hast made him lesse,
In his owne witt: hauing yet learning spare.
The goate doth hunt the grasse: the wolfe the goat.
The lyon hunts the wolfe, by proofe we see.
Heywood sang others downe, but thy sweete note
Dauis, hath sang him downe, and I would thee.
Then be not mou'de, nor count it such a sinn,
To will in thee what thou hast donn in him.

Epigr. 4.

King Philip would by force victoriously,
Inuade our land: which hauing proude in vaine,
He wars with treason most ingloriously.
Yet is repelde, and driuen home againe.
In great attempts few spare for wickednesse,
Yet neuer any man did more for lesse.

Epigr. 5. Ad comitem Essexiæ iam nauigaturum.

These ships with childe with such an enterprze,
As more then quicke they trauaile with to Spayne;
These Captaynes of couragious companies,
The towers and fortes, Elysa, if thy reigne,
These Armies marching and these ensignes spread,
These Armes aduanst vpon our enemies:
All as the body, waite on thee their head,
Great Lord, dipt in thine heart, fixt in thine eyes,
Go on with liuing courage, tempring sweete,
The inspirde body of her royall fleete,

Epigr. 6. Ad eundem.

The newes of Spanish wars, how wondrously,
It strooke our heartes, what terrour it did breed.
Saint Mary porte and Cales can testifie,
And thousand's Spaniards witnessing the deede,
When thou Deurox, with feare wast so dismaid,
That thou to Siuill well nigh fled'st for ayde.

Epigr. 7.

When Cæsar in those wars which did not cease,
Till they had consummated not his peace:
By higher cause was drawne into the flood,
Where Alexanders royall citie stoode:
And now the world did stint her conquering,
Against the comming of a greater king,
Ægypt, which hording all iniquities,
Vnder yet vnreuealed mysteries,
Did burne the wisedome of all ages olde
Which forty thousand volumes had enrolde:
Plainely foretold what shortly should ensue.
Wipe out the olde world and begin the new.

Epigr. 8. In Philonem.

Phylo is richly rayde, and beareth hye
His great reuenues dated in his coate.
Coyne, iewels, plate and land: loa heere they lie.
This is their last which lately so did floate.
First in his bely shipt they suffred wracke.
Now they are landed all vpon his backe.

Epigr. 9.

Besides contentions to vs naturall,
And to our age: besides all wickednesse
So rife so ripe, so reaching ouer all,
And murdring malice raging in excesse.
We haue inuented engines to shed blood,
Such as no age did euer knowe before.
Like as God thundreth from the ayrie clowde:
Lightning forth death out of deaths house of store.
What Arte had euer more perfection.
Then murder hath, since gonns did worke our euill?
Fye on all mischieuous inuention.
Fye on all wicked heads, fye on the diuell,
Which vs such murdring instruments assignes.
It is to much to haue such murdring mindes.

Epigr. 10.

VVhen bākrupt Tamus, his chānel scarse did wet
He was great store of water in our dett,
Which all he payde vs, when an other yeare
Hee pleaded at the barre at Westminstere.

Epigr. Ad Lectorem.

Reader if Heywood liued now againe
Whome time of life hath not of praise bereaued,
If he would write, I could expresse his vaine,
Thus he would write, or else I am deceiued.

Epigr. 12. Of a pudding.

The end is all, & in the end the praise of all depends
A podding merits double praise, a podding hath two ends.

Epigr. 13. A crossing of that Epigram

A podding hath two ends? ye lye my brother:
For he begins at one, and ends at t'other.

Epigr. 14. Of the Lions?

Tell me good Tom, hast thou the Lions seene?
Iacke I haue felt them: why where hast thou bene?
Where haue I not beene, ranging heere and there
And trust me Iacke Lions are euery where,
Why then thou saw'st them: foole that is no soare,
He that tels thee I felt them, tels thee more.

Epigr. 15. Of Ienkin.

Ienkin is a rude clowne; go tell him so.
What neede I tell what he himselfe doth know?
Perhaps he knowes not, then he is a sott,
For tell me, what knowes he which knows not that?

Epigr. 16. Of an Ape.

He that would know an Ape, may be to seeke,
An Ape is that, which an Ape is not like.

Epigr. 17. Of Bankes horse.

Bankes hath an horse of wondrous qualitie,
For he can fight, and pisse, and daunce, and lie.
And finde your purse, and tell what coyne ye haue.
But Bankes, who taught your horse to smel a knaue?

Epigr. 18. Of Pymer which fell mad for the loue of his dogg Talbott

Pymer lou'de Talbot, Talbot loued him,
Who loued best? both loued constantly.
Pymer with Talbot dy'd, Talbot with him.
Who dyed best? both dyed louingly.
Yet were I iudge for Talbot I should sitt,
Whose match in loue Pymer was, not in witt.

Epigr. 18. Ad Lectorem.

Some will perhaps condemne my foolish veyne,
For that of Dogs, Lyons, and Apes I speake.
But if they knewe the cause they would refrayne.
I doe it onely for the Printers sake.
The simple must haue something for their humour,
And hauing somthing they my booke will buy.
Then gayneth he by whome I am no looser.
So is he satisfide, and they and I.
Some will giue sixe pence for a witty touch,
And some to see an Ape will giue as much.

Epigr. 19. In Seuerum.

Seuerus reads my booke, and hauing read,
Forthwith pronounceth me an idle head.
And idle he had binn as well as we,
But that he matter found to carpe at me:
Then all goes not amisse as I mistooke;
I see there is some matter in my book.

Epigr. 20. In eundem.

Seuerus calls me idle, I confesse:
But who cán worke vpon my idlenesse.

Epigr. 21.

When Sextus Quintus traytrously had slayne,
He threw his spoyled corpse into the deepe.
But the iust sea did throw him out againe,
And to a murder would not counsaile keepe.
The fact appeares, the author of the sinne,
Is yet vnknowne, but see the slayne doth bleede.
And his cold blood runs out, and points at him,
And cryes, this is the author of the deede.
Thus euen the dead against such villanie
Of Abels blood for vengeance learne to cry.

Epigr. 21. Ad reginam Elizebetham.

Mother of England, and sweete nurse of all,
Thy countries good which all depends on thee,
Looke not that countries father I thee call,
A name of great and kingly dignitie,
Thou dost not onely match old kings, but rather,
In thy sweete loue to vs, excell a father.

Epigr. 22. Ad eandem.

I know where is a thiefe and long hath beene,
Which spoyleth euery place where he resortes.
He steales away both subiectes from the Queene.
And men from his owne country of all sortes.
Howses by three, and seauen, and ten he raseth,
To make the common gleabe, his priuate land.
Our country Cities cruell he defaceth,
The grasse grows greene where litle Troy did stand,
The forlorne father hanging downe his head,
His our cast company drawne vp and downe.
The pining labourer doth begge his bread.
The plowswayne seek's his dinner from the towne,
O Prince, the wrong is thine, for vnderstand:
Many such robbries will vndoe thy land.

Epigr. 23. Ad Do, Mountioy.

Mountioy what is my muse, or my dull pen,
Or my forlorne conceipt, worthy of thee
The honoredst of honorable men,
Nobling with vertues thy Nobilitie?
Yet sith thy same through euery eare doth slie,
And all men praise thy worth: why should not I?

Epigr. 24. In Cacum.

VVhen Cacus wrong'de me, this was his excuse,
I meant no harme: I thought thee no abuse.
Well had he meant it worse I could not speede.
I could not fealt his thought more then his deede.
I would haue thankt him had the case so stood,
That he had meant me harme and doone me good.

Epigr. 25. In eundem

You did me harme, but meant not so to doe,
Since you haue donne it Cacus, meane it to.

Epigr. 26. Ad Georgium Morton Armig.

Morton whose face bewrayes antiquitie,
When men were goodly of proportion.
But in whose heart is true gentilitie,
In thee perfited, in thy race begonne.
Take these poore lines, as due to thy desart,
From him which owes to thee more then his heart,

Epigr. 27. Ad Richardum Eeds.

Eeds , onely thou an Epigram dost season,
With a sweete tast and relish of enditing.
With sharpes of sense, and delicates of reason,
With salt of witt and wonderfull delighting.
Form my iudgement him thou hast exprest,
In whose sweet mouth hony did build her nest.

Epigr. 28. Ad Guilielmum Suttonum.

When breath and life through my cold miserie,
Did euen fayle, and hope had made an end.
Thou Sutton did'st put breath and life in me,
With the sweet comforts of a faithfull friend.
O that I likewise might keepe thee from death
With my pens life, and with my papers breath.

Epigr. 29.

Neuer so many masters any knew,
And so fewe gentlemen in such a crewe.
Neuer so many houses, so small spending.
Neuer such store of coyne: so little lending.
Neuer so many cosins: so fewe kynde.
Goodmorrowes plenty, good wils heard to finde.
Neuer so many clerkes, neere learning lesse.
Many religious, but least godlinesse.
Justice is banished, lawe breeds such strife,
And trueth: and why? for swearing is so rife.
Thus in her strength of causes vertue dieth,
But vice without a cause still multiplieth.

Epigr. 30. Ad Cacum.

There was presented you an odd Libell
For which you knowe Cacus, you payd me well,
But well I knowe, of me sir you had none,
Remember then Cacus, I owe you one.

Epigr. 31. In Libellum.

Libel all rawe with indigested spite,
Whose witt doth droppe inuenymde iniurie.
Whose pen leakes blots of spitefull infamie,
Which the synke of thy paper doth receite.
Why dost thou boast? for if thou had'st don well.
In naughty things twere easie to excell.

Epigr. 32. Ad Mathonem.

Matho , if common liking might suffice,
And temprate iudgement, when you do repeat,
Then would I praise your verses once or twise.
But I must rage and cry, and sweare and sweat,
I must condemne the writers of all ages.
And wrong diuiner wits which were before:
When hauing spent and consum'de all my praises
Yet you reade on, and yet you looke for more.
Henceforth looke for no praise at your recyting.
Wordes are but winde, i'le set it downe in writing.

Epigr. 33.

A Wealch and English man meete on the way,
Both poore, both proud, full of small courtesy.
They fall in talke till each of them display,
Both their great mindes, and small abilitie.
The wealch man from one word of discontent,
Of an huge quarrell tooke occasion:
Telling the english man he should repent,
For he should fight with all his nation.
The english man would put vp no disgrace,
But said I will, doe you appoint the place.

Epigr. 34. in Thymum.

Thymus is so enspirde so mortifide,
So pure a ghost, so heauenly spirituall:
That all things else to God he hath deny'd.
Feete, knees, hands, breast, face, eyes, lips, tongue & all.
As false religion he doth reuile it,
Which loues the knees, or any outward part.
With his stinking lounges will not defile it.
Nor with his purest blood, nor with his heart,
In spirit he doth ride, walkes, eates, and drinkes
In spirit he hates, he rayles, I worse then this,
He cares not what the vulgar sort do thinke,
Alas they knowe not of what spirit he is,
Neyther know I, yet thinke I of an euill,
And feare his spirit will turne into a deuill.

Epigr. 35.

Daneus nose when time of death drew neere,
So hideously did swell, none could suppose
What was the cause, two beds prepared were,
One for Daneus, to'ther for his nose.
One said it bredd a wolfe: againe another.
Did iudge the tympany the cause of rising:
Some sayde it was tormented with the mother.
Some with the scurvies for not exercising.
Being ript vp, the cause of death was spied.
Ten thousand iestes were found, wherof it died.

Epigr. 36.

The peasant Corus of his wealth doth boast,
Yet he scarse worth twise twenty pounds at most,
I chanc'de to worde once with this lowsie swayne.
He calde me base, and beggar in disdaine.
To try the trueth hereof I rate my selfe.
And cast the little count of all my wealth.
See how much Hebrew, Greeke, and Poetry,
Latin, Rhetorique and Philosophye.
Reading and sense in sciences profound,
All valued, are not worth forty pounds.

Epigr. 37.

Matho in wealth and ease, at libertye,
Expresseth neither witt nor honesty.
But is secure and idle, dull and vaine,
His pleasures man, and his sweete fortunes swayne,
But when he is awakt with misery.
With executions, and pouertie.
When he is quite vndonne and nothing worth.
Then like a viper his witt crawleth foorth.

Epigr. 38. In Seuerum.

Seuerus hates my pens lycentious grace.
He liked not of my gadding poetry.
He tearmes my writing like the wildgoose race,
In fine he saith that all is vanity.
Away saith he, I like not this redundance,
Away with him, a Poet is abundance.

Epigr. 39. Ad Essexia comitem.

If I could turne my verse into desart,
Or tune my sense to thy nobilitie.
Great Essex, then should'st thou enjoy my arte,
And chalenge me thy Poet worthely.
But since I cannot equall thee with art
Take thy reward out of thine owne desart.