Scotlands Welcome to her Native Sonne, and Soveraigne Lord, King Charles Wherein is also contained, the maner of His Coronation, and Convocation of Parliament; The whole Grievances, and abuses of the Common-wealth of this Kingdome, with diverse other relations, never heretofore published. Worthy to be by all the Nobles and Gentry perused; and to be layd vp in the hearts, and chests of the whole Commouns, whose interests may best claime it, either in meane, or maner, from which their Priuiledges, and fortunes are drawne, as from the Loadstar of true direction. By William Lithgovv |
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THE PROLOGVE TO THE READER.
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 | Scotlands Welcome to her Native Sonne, and Soveraigne Lord, King Charles |  |
THE PROLOGVE TO THE READER.
Whilst Scotlands
Welcome, sends its substant show
To Mighty Charles, as bund duetie owe;
To whom sweet songs, and heavie plaints it brings,
Mixt so, and framd, discovring serious things:
Yet some blind judgements may condemne my Muse,
For touching that, which they them selues abuse:
But if it gall, their stinking sores, long wounded,
A tush for base despight, from such hate grounded:
Whose guilt may plead, and tell their conscience thus,
Shrewd faults find eyes, and Tyme must punish vs;
Which if one age ago, this Land had beene
Check'd of such faults, might now haue beene fund cleane.
To Mighty Charles, as bund duetie owe;
To whom sweet songs, and heavie plaints it brings,
Mixt so, and framd, discovring serious things:
Yet some blind judgements may condemne my Muse,
For touching that, which they them selues abuse:
But if it gall, their stinking sores, long wounded,
A tush for base despight, from such hate grounded:
Whose guilt may plead, and tell their conscience thus,
Shrewd faults find eyes, and Tyme must punish vs;
Which if one age ago, this Land had beene
Check'd of such faults, might now haue beene fund cleane.
As for the Critick, or the carping Slaue,
Goe hang himselfe, I care not for a knaue:
Whilst for the Commoun-wealth, I stand to plead,
To show Oppressours tyranny and greed:
And eu'ry grievous vyce, this Land affords,
Where I affect more matter, than coynd words,
Brayne-wrested straines, Ænigmatick stile,
Or epitomizd Epilogues the while:
Although I dyving could, and soaring fetch,
My top-wingd flight, too high, for vulgar reach:
Whilst I meanewhile, haue more paynes to be plaine,
Than to be curious, in the highest strayne.
Goe hang himselfe, I care not for a knaue:
Whilst for the Commoun-wealth, I stand to plead,
To show Oppressours tyranny and greed:
And eu'ry grievous vyce, this Land affords,
Where I affect more matter, than coynd words,
Brayne-wrested straines, Ænigmatick stile,
Or epitomizd Epilogues the while:
Although I dyving could, and soaring fetch,
My top-wingd flight, too high, for vulgar reach:
Whilst I meanewhile, haue more paynes to be plaine,
Than to be curious, in the highest strayne.
For what this worke affoords, lyf-burning Taper!
I had no Bookes to read, when pennd, but Paper:
With Ink, and Pen, my Chamber-garnish bare,
Warme Bed, and Boord, none other Book was there:
But Memory, Invention, Experience great,
Whereon my labours, build their solid Seat:
Which if it bee not well done, goe and mend it,
For with the same condition, I Thee send it:
But stop, O stay! its harder to invent,
Then adding invention, to whats here meant.
This Web then see, of welcome I it Warp,
Whiles playne and prolixe, sometymes breef, and sharp;
Sadled, vnsadled, spurring on I goe,
And neither spares my friend, nor hurtes my foe,
But smoothly twixt two strugling shoares I runne,
Flat-sandy Scilla, Charibdin rocks to shunne:
For twixt like two, the golden meane may rest,
Nether too bitter, nor too sweet is best:
Which justly I set downe, and purpose lyke,
Vpon the Annill, of the Trueth I stryke:
And if I erre in one jote, I requyre,
Let mee goe headlong to deaths fatall fyre.
I had no Bookes to read, when pennd, but Paper:
With Ink, and Pen, my Chamber-garnish bare,
Warme Bed, and Boord, none other Book was there:
But Memory, Invention, Experience great,
Whereon my labours, build their solid Seat:
Which if it bee not well done, goe and mend it,
For with the same condition, I Thee send it:
But stop, O stay! its harder to invent,
Then adding invention, to whats here meant.
This Web then see, of welcome I it Warp,
Whiles playne and prolixe, sometymes breef, and sharp;
And neither spares my friend, nor hurtes my foe,
But smoothly twixt two strugling shoares I runne,
Flat-sandy Scilla, Charibdin rocks to shunne:
For twixt like two, the golden meane may rest,
Nether too bitter, nor too sweet is best:
Which justly I set downe, and purpose lyke,
Vpon the Annill, of the Trueth I stryke:
And if I erre in one jote, I requyre,
Let mee goe headlong to deaths fatall fyre.
Say, if he come this yeare, say he come not,
Yet tyme shall praise mee, for a louing SCOT.
Which being doubtfull, precisely, how, and when,
I reddy made this worke, form Presse, from Pen:
Yet not to vent my Bookes, nor haue them sould,
Before myne eyes, his comming in behould:
To whome the first I owe, to be presented,
For onely, to him onely, its invented:
Which when it is devulgd, I dare expect,
From the judicious Lector, kynd respect.
Yet tyme shall praise mee, for a louing SCOT.
Which being doubtfull, precisely, how, and when,
I reddy made this worke, form Presse, from Pen:
Yet not to vent my Bookes, nor haue them sould,
Before myne eyes, his comming in behould:
To whome the first I owe, to be presented,
For onely, to him onely, its invented:
Which when it is devulgd, I dare expect,
From the judicious Lector, kynd respect.
Then read, misconster not, but wysely looke,
If reason be, the Mistrisse of my Booke,
And if I finger, what thou fayne wouldst touch,
O! thank mee, and be pleasd; whylst I avouch,
The commoun sorrowes, of this groaning Land,
Which I lay open, to thyne open hand:
Then ponder, and peruse it, thou shalst fynd,
The Sole Idea, of thy Countreyes Mynd.
If reason be, the Mistrisse of my Booke,
And if I finger, what thou fayne wouldst touch,
O! thank mee, and be pleasd; whylst I avouch,
The commoun sorrowes, of this groaning Land,
Which I lay open, to thyne open hand:
Then ponder, and peruse it, thou shalst fynd,
The Sole Idea, of thy Countreyes Mynd.
Thyne, as Thou art Myne, William Lithgovv.
Non vita hæc ducenda est, quæ corpore & spiritu continetur,
illa inquam, illa vita est, quæ viget memoriâ sæculorum
omnium, quam posteritas alit, quam ipsa æternitas
semper intuetur.
| Scotlands Welcome to her Native Sonne, and Soveraigne Lord, King Charles | |