 | Diogenes Lanthorne |  |
Prologue.
An odde daies worke Diogines once made,And twa's to seeke an honest man he saide:
Through Athens with a Candle he did goe,
When people saw no cause he should doe so,
For it was day-light, and the Sunne did shine;
Yet he vnto a humor did incline.
To checke mens manners with some od-crosse iest,
Whereof he was continually possest.
Full of reproofes, where he abuses found;
And bolde to speake his minde, Who euer found
He spake as free to Alexanders face,
As if the meanest Plow-man were in Place,
Twas not mens persons that he did respect,
Nor any calling: Vice he durst detect.
Imagine you doe see him walke the streetes,
And euerie one's a knaue, with whome hee meetes
Note their discriptions; which good censure craues,
Then iudge if he haue cause to count them knaues.
Samvell Rowlands.
Diogenes lost labour.
Philosopher, thy labour is in vaine,Put out thy candle, get thee home againe,
If companie of honest men thou lacke,
They are so scarce, thou must alone go backe.
But if thou please to take some knaues along,
Giue but a beck, & store wil flock and throng.
He that did vomit out his house and land,
Euen with a winke, will ready come to hand.
And he of whom thou didst ten shillings craue
As thinking nere againe his aimes to haue,
And to vndoe him-selfe made wondrous haste.
If thou hast roome to stooe him in thy Tunne,
He will be readie both to goe and runne.
Or those same drunken Fidlers, thou didst finde
A tuning wood, when they themselues were blinde,
Whome thou didst with thy staffe belabour well:
They'le sing about the Tub where thou dost dwell.
All those that were presented to thy sight,
When thou sought'st honest men by Candle-light,
Make a step backe, they in the Cittie bee,
With many hundreds which thou didst not see.
Houses of rascalles; shops euen full of knaues,
Tauerne and Ale-house fild with drunken slaues.
Your Ordinaries and your common-Innes
Are whole-sale ware-houses of common sinnes.
Into a bawdie house thou didst not looke,
Nor any notice of their caperings tooke.
Bawdes with their Puncks, and Panders with their straps
Whores with their feathers in their veluet caps,
Those Sallamanders that doth bathe in fier,
And make a trade of burning lusts desire.
That doe salute them whome they entertaine,
With A poxe take you till we meete againe.
Nor those whose dayly, Nouices entice,
To lend them mony vpon cheating Dice.
And in the bowling-allyes tooke with betting,
By three, and foure to one, most basely getting.
All these vnseene appeare not to thy face,
With mayn a Cut-purse in the Market place,
That searches pockets being siluer linde,
If Counterfets about men he can finde.
And hath Commission for it so to deale
Under the hang-mans warrant, hand and seale.
That vse the craft of Coney-catch and cheate.
The Cities vermin, worse then Rats and Mice,
But leaue the Actors, to rewarde of vice:
He that reprooues it, showes a detestation,
He that corrects it, workes a reformation.
Who doe more wrongs and iniuries abide,
Then honest men that are best qualified?
They that doe offer least abuse to anye,
Must be prepared for induring many.
But heer's the comfort that the vertuous finde:
Their hell is first, their Heauen is behinde.
Diogenes Morrall.
A Cocke
stood crowing prowd,
Fast by a riuer side:
A Goose in water hist at him,
And did him much deride:
The Cocke in choller grew,
[illeg.] by him that made him,
That he would fight with that base goose,
Though all his Hennes diswade him.
Come but a shore quoth shee,
VVhite liuer, if thou dare,
And thou shalt see a bloody day,
Thy throate shall soone be bare.
Base Crauen said the Goose,
I scorne to beare the minde,
To come ashoue, amongst a crew,
Of scraping dunghill kinde:
Thy Hennes will backe thee there,
Come heather chaunting slaue:
And in the water hand to hand,
A combate we will haue.
Heere's none to interprete,
I Chalenge thee come heere:
If there be valour in thy combe
Why let it now appeere.
Enter thy watry field,
Ile spoyle thy crowing quight:
Why dost not come? oh now I see.
Thou hast no heart to fight.
With that the Cocke replide,
There was no want in him:
But sure the water was so bad,
It would not let him swim.
Fast by a riuer side:
A Goose in water hist at him,
And did him much deride:
The Cocke in choller grew,
[illeg.] by him that made him,
That he would fight with that base goose,
Though all his Hennes diswade him.
Come but a shore quoth shee,
VVhite liuer, if thou dare,
And thou shalt see a bloody day,
Thy throate shall soone be bare.
Base Crauen said the Goose,
I scorne to beare the minde,
To come ashoue, amongst a crew,
Of scraping dunghill kinde:
Thy Hennes will backe thee there,
Come heather chaunting slaue:
A combate we will haue.
Heere's none to interprete,
I Chalenge thee come heere:
If there be valour in thy combe
Why let it now appeere.
Enter thy watry field,
Ile spoyle thy crowing quight:
Why dost not come? oh now I see.
Thou hast no heart to fight.
With that the Cocke replide,
There was no want in him:
But sure the water was so bad,
It would not let him swim.
Morrall.
It happens alwayes thusWhen Cowards doe contend:
With wrangling words they do begin,
And with those weapons end.
Nothing but vaunts are vs'd,
Till triall should be made:
And when they come to action
Each of other are affrayd,
Then for to keepe skinnes whole,
It is a common vse:
To enter in some drunken league,
Or make a cowards scuse.
A great
assembly met of Mice,
Who with themselues did take aduice,
What plot by policie to shape,
How they the bloody Cats might scape.
At length, a graue and auncient Mouse,
(Belike the wisest in the house)
Gaue counsell (which they all lik'd well)
That eu'ry Cat should weare a Bell:
For so (quoth he) we shall them heare,
And flie the danger which we feare.
If we but heare a Bell to ting,
At eating Cheese, or any thing,
When we are busie with the nippe,
Into a hole we straight may skippe.
This aboue all they liked best:
But quoth one Mouse vnto the rest,
Which of vs all dare be so stout,
To hang the Bels Cats necks about,
If here be any let him speake:
Then all repli'd, we are too weake.
The stoutest Mouse, and tallest Rat,
Doe tremble at a grim-fac'd Cat.
Who with themselues did take aduice,
What plot by policie to shape,
How they the bloody Cats might scape.
At length, a graue and auncient Mouse,
(Belike the wisest in the house)
Gaue counsell (which they all lik'd well)
That eu'ry Cat should weare a Bell:
For so (quoth he) we shall them heare,
And flie the danger which we feare.
If we but heare a Bell to ting,
At eating Cheese, or any thing,
When we are busie with the nippe,
Into a hole we straight may skippe.
This aboue all they liked best:
But quoth one Mouse vnto the rest,
Which of vs all dare be so stout,
To hang the Bels Cats necks about,
If here be any let him speake:
Then all repli'd, we are too weake.
The stoutest Mouse, and tallest Rat,
Doe tremble at a grim-fac'd Cat.
Morrall.
Thus fares it with the weake,Whom mightie men doe wrong:
They by complaint may wish redresse,
But none of force so strong
To worke their owne content:
For euery one doth feare,
Where cruelty doth make abode,
To come in presence there.
The
Owle being wearie of the night,
Would progresse in the Sunne,
To see the little Birds delight,
And what by them was done.
But comming to a stately groue,
Adorn'd with gallant greene.
Where yeares proud Sea-Summer stroue
Most beautious to be seene.
He lights no sooner on a tree,
That Summers liuerie weares:
But all the little Birdes that be
Were flock'd about his eares.
Such wondring and such noise they kept,
Such chirping and such peeping:
The Owle for anger could haue wept,
Had not shame hindred weeping.
At length he made a solemne vowe,
And thus vnto him spake:
You haue your time of pleasure now,
An owle of me to make.
But ere to morrow light appeare.
In the dawning of the East:
Fiue hundred of you that are heere,
I will dispatch at least:
If that I crush you not moste rare,
Why then Ioue let me die:
A Tittimouse I will not spare,
Nor the least VVren doth flie.
And so at night when all was hush,
The Owle with furious minde:
Did search and pray in euerie bush,
With sight when they were blinde.
He rent their flesh, and bones did breake,
Their feathers flew in th' aire.
And cruelly with bloodie beake
Those little creatures teare.
Now am I well reueng'd (quoth he)
For that which you haue done:
And quited all my wrongs by Moone,
Were offred in the Sunne.
Would progresse in the Sunne,
To see the little Birds delight,
And what by them was done.
But comming to a stately groue,
Adorn'd with gallant greene.
Where yeares proud Sea-Summer stroue
Most beautious to be seene.
He lights no sooner on a tree,
That Summers liuerie weares:
But all the little Birdes that be
Were flock'd about his eares.
Such wondring and such noise they kept,
Such chirping and such peeping:
The Owle for anger could haue wept,
Had not shame hindred weeping.
At length he made a solemne vowe,
And thus vnto him spake:
You haue your time of pleasure now,
An owle of me to make.
But ere to morrow light appeare.
In the dawning of the East:
Fiue hundred of you that are heere,
I will dispatch at least:
If that I crush you not moste rare,
Why then Ioue let me die:
A Tittimouse I will not spare,
Nor the least VVren doth flie.
And so at night when all was hush,
The Owle with furious minde:
Did search and pray in euerie bush,
With sight when they were blinde.
He rent their flesh, and bones did breake,
Their feathers flew in th' aire.
Those little creatures teare.
Now am I well reueng'd (quoth he)
For that which you haue done:
And quited all my wrongs by Moone,
Were offred in the Sunne.
Morrall.
Gainst mightie one, the weake, of strengthMay not themselues oppose:
For if they doe, twill proue at length,
To wall the weakest goes.
The little shrubs must not contend
Against the taller Trees,
Nor meaner sort seeke to offend
Their betters in degrees.
For though amongst their owne consorts,
Superiours they deride:
And wrong them much by false reports,
At length Time turnes the Tide.
There comes a change, the wills they wrought
In selfe conceit thought good:
May be in the'nd too deerly bought
Euen with the price of blood.
A Cobler
kept a scuruie Crowe,
A bird of basest kinde,
And paines inough he did bestowe,
To worke her to his minde.
At length he taught her verie well
To speake out verie lowde:
God saue the King, and troth to tell,
The Cobler then grew prowde.
She was too good to hop about
Upon his Olde-shooe stall;
But he vnto the Court would strout,
His bird should put downe all
Their painted Parrats. So he went,
To Cæsar with Iack-daw.
And said to him, he did present
Best bird that ere he sawe.
The Monarch gracious minde did showe
For Coblers poore good will:
And made a Courtier of the Crowe,
Where he remain'd, vntill
He standing in a Window, spy'd
His fellowes flie along:
And knewe the language which they cry'd,
Was his owne mother song,
Away goes he the way they went,
And altogether flie,
A poore dead horse to teare and rent
That in a ditch did lie.
When they had shar'd him to the bone
Not a Crowes mouthfull left:
To a Corne-field they flie each-one
And there they fall to theft.
This life the Coblers Crowe did chuse,
Pick's liuing out of strawe:
And Courtly diet did refuse
Euen like a foolish Dawe.
A bird of basest kinde,
And paines inough he did bestowe,
To worke her to his minde.
At length he taught her verie well
To speake out verie lowde:
The Cobler then grew prowde.
She was too good to hop about
Upon his Olde-shooe stall;
But he vnto the Court would strout,
His bird should put downe all
Their painted Parrats. So he went,
To Cæsar with Iack-daw.
And said to him, he did present
Best bird that ere he sawe.
The Monarch gracious minde did showe
For Coblers poore good will:
And made a Courtier of the Crowe,
Where he remain'd, vntill
He standing in a Window, spy'd
His fellowes flie along:
And knewe the language which they cry'd,
Was his owne mother song,
Away goes he the way they went,
And altogether flie,
A poore dead horse to teare and rent
That in a ditch did lie.
When they had shar'd him to the bone
Not a Crowes mouthfull left:
To a Corne-field they flie each-one
And there they fall to theft.
This life the Coblers Crowe did chuse,
Pick's liuing out of strawe:
And Courtly diet did refuse
Euen like a foolish Dawe.
Morrall.
He that from basenes doth deriue,The rootes of his descent:
And by preferment chance to thriue,
The way that Iack-daw went:
Whether in Court or common-wealth,
In Cittie or in towne,
How ere he pledge good fortunes health,
Heele liue and dye a Clowne.
Dawes will be dawes, though grac'd in Court,
Crowes will to Carryon still,
Like euer vnto like resorte,
The bad imbrace the ill.
And though euen from a Coblers stall,
He Purchase land what then,
With Coblers heele conuerse with all,
Rather then better men.
The
Lyon in a humour once,
As with his pleasure stood:
Commaunded that on paine of death,
Horne Beastes should voide the wood,
Not any one to tarrie there,
That had an armed head,
This was no sooner publisht foorth
But many hundreds fled,
The Hart, the Bucke, the Unicorne,
Ramme, Bull, and Goate consent,
With hast post-haste, to run away
Their dangers to preuent.
With thief morrow of horned kinde,
That were perplexed so,
A beast consorts, vppon whose head,
Onely a wen did growe.
The Foxe met him, and said, thou foole,
Why whether dost thou runne?
Marrie (quoth he) to saue my life,
Hear'st thou not what is done?
Horne creatures all haue banishment,
And must auoide the place,
For they are charg'd vpon their liues,
Euen by the Lyons grace.
True (said the Foxe) I know it well,
But what is that to thee?
Thou hast no horne, thy wen is flesh,
Tis euident to see.
I graunt (quoth he) tis so indeede,
Yet nere-thelesse, ile flie,
For if't be taken for a horne
Pray in what case am I?
Sure (said the Foxe) it's wiselye done,
I blame thee not in this.
For many wrongs are dayly wrought
By taking things amisse.
As with his pleasure stood:
Commaunded that on paine of death,
Horne Beastes should voide the wood,
Not any one to tarrie there,
That had an armed head,
This was no sooner publisht foorth
But many hundreds fled,
The Hart, the Bucke, the Unicorne,
Ramme, Bull, and Goate consent,
With hast post-haste, to run away
Their dangers to preuent.
That were perplexed so,
A beast consorts, vppon whose head,
Onely a wen did growe.
The Foxe met him, and said, thou foole,
Why whether dost thou runne?
Marrie (quoth he) to saue my life,
Hear'st thou not what is done?
Horne creatures all haue banishment,
And must auoide the place,
For they are charg'd vpon their liues,
Euen by the Lyons grace.
True (said the Foxe) I know it well,
But what is that to thee?
Thou hast no horne, thy wen is flesh,
Tis euident to see.
I graunt (quoth he) tis so indeede,
Yet nere-thelesse, ile flie,
For if't be taken for a horne
Pray in what case am I?
Sure (said the Foxe) it's wiselye done,
I blame thee not in this.
For many wrongs are dayly wrought
By taking things amisse.
Morrall.
VVise-men wil euer doubt the worst,In what they take in hand,
And seeke that free from all suspect,
They may securely stand.
Remouing euerie least offence,
That may a danger breede.
It is too late take heede.
If mightie men doe censure wrong,
How should the weake resist?
It is in vaine contend with him,
That can doe what he list:
The best and moste reposed life,
That any man can finde,
Is this, to keepe his conscience free,
From spotted guiltie minde.
A Sauage
creature chanc'd to come
Where ciuill people dwelt:
Whome they did kindelye entertaine,
And courteous with him delt.
They fed him with their choicest fare,
To make his welcome knowne,
And diuers waies their humane loue,
Was to the wildeman showne.
At length (the weather being cold)
One of them blew his nailes,
The Sauage ask'd why he did so?
And what his fingers ailes?
Marrie (quoth he) I make them warm
That are both colde and numme,
And so they set them downe to boord,
For supper time was come.
The man that blewe his nailes before,
Upon his broth did blowe:
Friend saies ye Sauage, what meanes this,
I prethee let me kow,
My broth (said he) is ouer hot,
And I doe coole it thus.
Farwel (quoth he) this deed of thine,
For euer parteth vs,
Hast thou a breath blowes hot & colde,
Euen at thy wish and wil?
I am not for thy company,
Pray keepe thy supper still,
And heate thy hands, & coole thy broth
As I haue seene thee doe,
Such double dealers as thy selfe,
I haue no minde vnto.
But will retyre vnto the woods,
Where I tofore haue bene,
Resoluing euerie double tongue,
Hath hollow heart within.
Where ciuill people dwelt:
Whome they did kindelye entertaine,
And courteous with him delt.
They fed him with their choicest fare,
To make his welcome knowne,
And diuers waies their humane loue,
Was to the wildeman showne.
At length (the weather being cold)
One of them blew his nailes,
The Sauage ask'd why he did so?
And what his fingers ailes?
Marrie (quoth he) I make them warm
That are both colde and numme,
And so they set them downe to boord,
For supper time was come.
The man that blewe his nailes before,
Upon his broth did blowe:
Friend saies ye Sauage, what meanes this,
I prethee let me kow,
My broth (said he) is ouer hot,
And I doe coole it thus.
For euer parteth vs,
Hast thou a breath blowes hot & colde,
Euen at thy wish and wil?
I am not for thy company,
Pray keepe thy supper still,
And heate thy hands, & coole thy broth
As I haue seene thee doe,
Such double dealers as thy selfe,
I haue no minde vnto.
But will retyre vnto the woods,
Where I tofore haue bene,
Resoluing euerie double tongue,
Hath hollow heart within.
Morrall.
A heedefull care we out to haue,When we doe friendes elect:
The pleasing gesture, & good words,
We are not to respect.
For curteous carriage often times,
May haue an ill intent.
And gracious words may gracelesse proue,
Without the hearts consent.
Let all auoide a double tongue,
For in it there's no trust,
And banish such the company,
Of honest men meane iust:
A counterfeits societie,
Is neuer free from danger,
And that man liues moste happy life,
Can liue to such a stranger.
VVhen
winters rage and cruell storms
Of euery pleasant tree
Had made the bowes starke naked al
As bare as bare might be,
And not a flower left in field,
Nor greene on bush or bryer:
But all was robd in pitteous plight,
Of summers ritch attyre.
The Grasse-hopper in great distresse
Unto the Ant did come
And said, deare friend, I pine for foode
I prethee giue me some.
Thou art not in extreames with mee,
I know thy euer care,
For winters want, and hard distresse,
In Summer doth prepare.
Know'st thou my care, replyed the Ant
And doost thou like it well.
Wherfore prouidst not thou the like,
Pray thee Grasse-hopper tell?
Marrie (saide he) the summer time,
I pleasantly doe passe,
And sing it out moste merrilye,
In the delightfull grasse,
I take no care for time to come,
My minde is on my Song:
I think the glorious Sun-shine daies
Are euerlasting long
When thou art hoording vp thy foode
Against these hungrie daies,
Inclyned into prouidence,
Pleasure I onely praise,
This is the cause I come to thee,
To helpe me with thy store:
Thou art deceiu'd friend said the Ant,
I labour'd not therefore.
Twa's not for you I did prouide,
With iealious toilesome paines:
But that my selfe of labours past,
Might haue the future gaines.
Such idle ones must buy their wit,
Tis best when deerely bought:
And note this lesson to your shame,
Which by the Ant is taught,
If Summer be your singing time,
When you doe merrie make:
Let winter be your weeping time
When you must pennance take.
Of euery pleasant tree
Had made the bowes starke naked al
As bare as bare might be,
And not a flower left in field,
Nor greene on bush or bryer:
But all was robd in pitteous plight,
Of summers ritch attyre.
The Grasse-hopper in great distresse
Unto the Ant did come
And said, deare friend, I pine for foode
I prethee giue me some.
Thou art not in extreames with mee,
I know thy euer care,
For winters want, and hard distresse,
In Summer doth prepare.
Know'st thou my care, replyed the Ant
And doost thou like it well.
Wherfore prouidst not thou the like,
Pray thee Grasse-hopper tell?
Marrie (saide he) the summer time,
I pleasantly doe passe,
And sing it out moste merrilye,
In the delightfull grasse,
I take no care for time to come,
My minde is on my Song:
I think the glorious Sun-shine daies
Are euerlasting long
When thou art hoording vp thy foode
Against these hungrie daies,
Inclyned into prouidence,
Pleasure I onely praise,
This is the cause I come to thee,
To helpe me with thy store:
I labour'd not therefore.
Twa's not for you I did prouide,
With iealious toilesome paines:
But that my selfe of labours past,
Might haue the future gaines.
Such idle ones must buy their wit,
Tis best when deerely bought:
And note this lesson to your shame,
Which by the Ant is taught,
If Summer be your singing time,
When you doe merrie make:
Let winter be your weeping time
When you must pennance take.
Morrall.
Neglect not time, for precious timeIs not at thy commaund:
But in thy youth and able strength,
Giue prouidence thy hand.
Repose not trust in others helpe,
For when misfortunes fall.
Thou maist complaine & pine in wāt
But friendes will vanish all,
Theile heap reproofes vpō thy head
And tell thy follies past:
And all thy actes of negligence,
Euen in thy teeth will cast.
thou might'st haue got, thou might'st haue gain'd
And liued like a man:
Thus will they speake filling thy soule,
With extreame passion than.
That comes when tis too late:
And trust not ouer much to friendes,
To helpe thy hard estate.
Make youth the Summer of thy life,
And therein loyter not,
And thinke the winter of olde age,
Will spend what summer got.
A lustie
Begger that was blinde,
But verie strong of limbe:
Agree'd with one was lame of legs,
That he would carrie him.
And tother was to guide the way,
For he had perfect sight:
Upon condition, all they got.
Should still be shar'd at night.
So as they chanc'd to passe a long,
The Cripple that had eyes,
Sitting vppon the blinde mans backe
On ground an Oyster spies,
Stoope, take that Oyster vp (qd he)
Which at thy feet lyes there:
And so he did, and put it in,
The scrip which he did weare,
But going on a little way,
Saies cripple, to the blinde,
Giue me the Oyster thou took'st vp
I haue thereto a minde.
Not so said tother by your leaue,
In vaine you doe intreate it:
For sure I keepe it for my selfe,
And doe intend to eate it.
Ile haue it sir the Cripple swore,
Who spide it, thou or I?
If that I had not seene, and spoke
Thou wouldest haue passed by.
It is no matter said the blinde,
Thou knowst it might haue lyen,
Had I not stoopt, and tooke it vp,
Therefore it shall be mine.
And so they hotly fell to wordes,
And out in choller brake,
with thou lame Rogue, and thou blind knaue
Not caring what they spoke.
At length it hapned one came by,
And heard them thus contend,
And did intreate them both, that hee
Might this their discord and.
They yeelde, and say it be so,
Then he inquiring all.
Did heare their league, and how about
An Oyster they did brall.
Saide he, my Maisters let me see
This Oyster makes such strife,
The blinde man foorthwith gaue it him
Who present drew his knife.
And opening it, eate vp the same,
Giuing them each a shell
And said, good fellowes now be friends
I haue your fish, farwell.
The beggers both deluded thus,
At their owne folly smilde,
And saide one subtill craftie knaue,
Had to poore fooles beguilde.
But verie strong of limbe:
Agree'd with one was lame of legs,
That he would carrie him.
And tother was to guide the way,
For he had perfect sight:
Upon condition, all they got.
Should still be shar'd at night.
So as they chanc'd to passe a long,
The Cripple that had eyes,
Sitting vppon the blinde mans backe
On ground an Oyster spies,
Stoope, take that Oyster vp (qd he)
Which at thy feet lyes there:
And so he did, and put it in,
The scrip which he did weare,
But going on a little way,
Saies cripple, to the blinde,
Giue me the Oyster thou took'st vp
I haue thereto a minde.
Not so said tother by your leaue,
In vaine you doe intreate it:
For sure I keepe it for my selfe,
And doe intend to eate it.
Who spide it, thou or I?
If that I had not seene, and spoke
Thou wouldest haue passed by.
It is no matter said the blinde,
Thou knowst it might haue lyen,
Had I not stoopt, and tooke it vp,
Therefore it shall be mine.
And so they hotly fell to wordes,
And out in choller brake,
with thou lame Rogue, and thou blind knaue
Not caring what they spoke.
At length it hapned one came by,
And heard them thus contend,
And did intreate them both, that hee
Might this their discord and.
They yeelde, and say it be so,
Then he inquiring all.
Did heare their league, and how about
An Oyster they did brall.
Saide he, my Maisters let me see
This Oyster makes such strife,
The blinde man foorthwith gaue it him
Who present drew his knife.
And opening it, eate vp the same,
Giuing them each a shell
And said, good fellowes now be friends
I haue your fish, farwell.
The beggers both deluded thus,
At their owne folly smilde,
And saide one subtill craftie knaue,
Had to poore fooles beguilde.
Morrall.
VVHen men for trifles will contend,And vainely disagree:
That oft for nothing friend and friend,
At Daggers drawing be.
When no discretion there is vsde,
To quallifie offence:
But reason is by will abus'd,
And anger doth incense.
When some in furie seeke their wish,
And some in mallice swels:
Perhaps some Lawyer takes the fish,
And leaues his clyent shels.
Then when their folly once appeares,
They ouerlate complaine:
And wish the wit of fore-gone yeares,
Were now to buy againe.
VVithin
a groue, a gallant groue,
That wore greene Sommers sute,
An Oxe, an Asse, an Ape, a Fox,
Each other kinde salute.
And louingly like freinds embrace,
And much good manners vse:
At length sayes th' Oxe vnto the Asse,
I pray thee friend what newes?
The Asse look'd sad and thus replied,
No newes at all quoth he:
But I grow euer discontent,
VVhen I doe meete with thee.
The Oxe look'd strange, and stepping backe,
Quoth he deere neighbour Asse,
Haue I wrong'd thee in all my life,
Mouthfull of Hay or Grasse?
Assure thy selfe if that I had,
T'would grieue me verie much:
No kinde bedfellow said the Asse,
My meaning is not such.
On Iupiter I doe complaine,
T'is he wrongs me alone:
In arming thee with those large hornes,
And I poore wretch haue none.
Thou wearst two weapons on thy head,
Thy bodie to defend,
Against the stoutest dogge that barkes,
Thou boldly darst contend.
When I haue nothing but my skinne,
With two long foolish eares:
And not the basest Goose that liues,
My hate or furie feares,
This makes me sad, and dull, and slow,
And of a heauie pace:
When eu'ry scuruy Shepheards curre,
Doth braue me to my face.
Sure quoth the Ape, as thou art greeu'd,
So I hard dealing finde:
Looke on the Fox, and looke on me,
Pray view us well behinde.
And thou will sweare, I know thou wilt
Except thy eye-sight failes:
That Nature lack'd a paire of eyes,
When she made both our tailes.
I wonder what her reason was,
To alter thus our shapes.
There's not a Foxe but hath a taile,
Would serue a dozen Apes,
Yet we thou seest goe bare-arse all,
For each man to deride:
I tell thee brother asse I blush,
To see mine owne backside,
I must indure a thousand iestes,
A thousand scoffes and scornes,
Nature deales bad with me for taile,
And Hart with thee for hornes.
With this the ground began to stirre,
And forth a little hole,
A creeping fore legd'd creature came,
A thing is cald a Mole,
Quoth he my maisters I haue hear'd
What faults you two doe finde:
Bout Taile and Hornes, pray look on me
By nature formed blinde:
You have no cause thus to complaine,
Of your, and your defect,
Nor vse dame nature hard with wordes,
If me you doe respect,
The thing for which you both complaine,
Are vnto me denide:
And that with patience I endure,
And, more am blinde beside.
That wore greene Sommers sute,
An Oxe, an Asse, an Ape, a Fox,
Each other kinde salute.
And louingly like freinds embrace,
And much good manners vse:
At length sayes th' Oxe vnto the Asse,
I pray thee friend what newes?
The Asse look'd sad and thus replied,
No newes at all quoth he:
But I grow euer discontent,
VVhen I doe meete with thee.
Quoth he deere neighbour Asse,
Haue I wrong'd thee in all my life,
Mouthfull of Hay or Grasse?
Assure thy selfe if that I had,
T'would grieue me verie much:
No kinde bedfellow said the Asse,
My meaning is not such.
On Iupiter I doe complaine,
T'is he wrongs me alone:
In arming thee with those large hornes,
And I poore wretch haue none.
Thou wearst two weapons on thy head,
Thy bodie to defend,
Against the stoutest dogge that barkes,
Thou boldly darst contend.
When I haue nothing but my skinne,
With two long foolish eares:
And not the basest Goose that liues,
My hate or furie feares,
This makes me sad, and dull, and slow,
And of a heauie pace:
When eu'ry scuruy Shepheards curre,
Doth braue me to my face.
Sure quoth the Ape, as thou art greeu'd,
So I hard dealing finde:
Looke on the Fox, and looke on me,
Pray view us well behinde.
And thou will sweare, I know thou wilt
Except thy eye-sight failes:
That Nature lack'd a paire of eyes,
When she made both our tailes.
I wonder what her reason was,
To alter thus our shapes.
Would serue a dozen Apes,
Yet we thou seest goe bare-arse all,
For each man to deride:
I tell thee brother asse I blush,
To see mine owne backside,
I must indure a thousand iestes,
A thousand scoffes and scornes,
Nature deales bad with me for taile,
And Hart with thee for hornes.
With this the ground began to stirre,
And forth a little hole,
A creeping fore legd'd creature came,
A thing is cald a Mole,
Quoth he my maisters I haue hear'd
What faults you two doe finde:
Bout Taile and Hornes, pray look on me
By nature formed blinde:
You have no cause thus to complaine,
Of your, and your defect,
Nor vse dame nature hard with wordes,
If me you doe respect,
The thing for which you both complaine,
Are vnto me denide:
And that with patience I endure,
And, more am blinde beside.
Morrall.
VVee ought complaine, repine and grudge,At our dislike estate:
And deeme our selues, (ourselues not pleas'd)
To be vnfortunate.
None plung'd in sorrow so:
When not by thousand parts of want,
Our neighbours griefs we know.
Most men that haue sufficiencie,
To serue for natures neede:
Do wrong the God of Nature,
And vngratefully proceede.
They looke on others great gifts,
And enuiously complaine:
When thousands wanting what they haue,
Contended doe remaine.
Th'
Astronomer by night did walke,
(He and his Globe togither)
Hauing great busines with the starres,
About the next yeares weather.
He did examine all the skie,
For tempests wind and raine:
And what diseases were to come,
The Planets tolde him plaine,
The disposition of the Spring,
The state of Sommer tide,
The Haruest fruit, and Winters frost,
Most plainly he espide.
He did conferre with Iupiter
Saturne and all the Seauen:
And grew exceeding busie, with
Twelue houses of the heauen.
But while with staring eyes he lookes,
What newes the starres could tell:
Upon the sodaine downe he comes,
Headlong into a Well.
Helpe helpe, he calls or else I drowne,
Oh helpe, he still did cry:
Untill it chaunc'd some passengers,
Came very early by.
And hearing him, did helpe him out,
In a drown'd mouses case:
Then question'd with him how he came,
In that same colde wet place?
Marry (quoth he) I look'd on hie,
Not thinking of the ground:
And tumbled in this scuruy Well,
Where I had like bin drownd.
Which when they heard and knew his art
They smyling said, friend straunger:
Wilt thou fore-tell thinges are to come,
And knowest not present daunger?
Hast thou an eye for heauen, and
For earth so little wit:
That while thou gazest after starres,
To tumble in a pit?
Wilt thou tell (looking ore thy head)
What weather it will be?
And deadly daunger at thy foote,
Thou hast no eyes to see?
We giue no credit to thy Art,
Nor doe esteeme thee wise:
To tumble headlong in a Well,
With gazing in the skyes.
(He and his Globe togither)
Hauing great busines with the starres,
About the next yeares weather.
He did examine all the skie,
For tempests wind and raine:
And what diseases were to come,
The Planets tolde him plaine,
The disposition of the Spring,
The state of Sommer tide,
The Haruest fruit, and Winters frost,
Most plainly he espide.
He did conferre with Iupiter
Saturne and all the Seauen:
And grew exceeding busie, with
Twelue houses of the heauen.
But while with staring eyes he lookes,
What newes the starres could tell:
Upon the sodaine downe he comes,
Headlong into a Well.
Oh helpe, he still did cry:
Untill it chaunc'd some passengers,
Came very early by.
And hearing him, did helpe him out,
In a drown'd mouses case:
Then question'd with him how he came,
In that same colde wet place?
Marry (quoth he) I look'd on hie,
Not thinking of the ground:
And tumbled in this scuruy Well,
Where I had like bin drownd.
Which when they heard and knew his art
They smyling said, friend straunger:
Wilt thou fore-tell thinges are to come,
And knowest not present daunger?
Hast thou an eye for heauen, and
For earth so little wit:
That while thou gazest after starres,
To tumble in a pit?
Wilt thou tell (looking ore thy head)
What weather it will be?
And deadly daunger at thy foote,
Thou hast no eyes to see?
We giue no credit to thy Art,
Nor doe esteeme thee wise:
To tumble headlong in a Well,
With gazing in the skyes.
Morrall.
Many with this Astronomer;Great knowledge will preted:
Will to the skies commend.
Their lookes must be aspiring,
(For ambition aimes on hie)
Fortune's aduancements makes them dream
Of Costles in the skie:
But while bewitching vanitie,
Deludes them with renowne:
A sodaine alteration, with
A vengeance pulles them downe.
And then the meanest sort of men,
Whome they doe abiect call:
Will stand in scorne; and point them out
And censure of their fall.
Great
Alexander came to see,
My Mansion being a Tunne:
And stoode directly opposite,
Between me, and the Sunne.
Morrow (quoth he) Philosopher,
I yeelde thee time of day:
Marrie (said I) then Emperor,
I prethee stand away.
For thou depriuest me of that,
Thy power hath not to giue:
Nor all thy mightie fellow kings,
That on earthes foote-ball liue.
Stand backe I say, and rob me not,
In wrong me in my right:
The Sunne would shine vpon me,
But thou tak' st away his light.
With this he stept aside from me,
And smiling did intreate:
That I would be a Courtier,
For he liked my conceite.
Ile haue thy house brought nie my court,
I like thy vaine so well:
A neighbour verie neare to me,
I meane to have thee dwell.
If thou bestow that paine (quoth I)
Pray when the worke is don,
Remooue thy Court and carrie that,
A good way from my Tunne.
I care not for thy neighbour-hood,
Thy Treasure, trash I hold:
I doe esteeme my Lanterne horne,
As much as all thy golde.
The costlyest cheere that earth affords,
(Take Sea and aire to boote)
I make far lesse account thereof,
Then of a Carret-roote.
For all the robes vppon thy backe,
So costly, rich and strange:
This plaine poore Gowne, thou seest me wear
Thred-bare, I will not change.
For all the pearle and Precious Stones,
That is at thy commaund:
I will not giue this little Booke,
That heere is in my hand.
For all the Citties, cruntries, Townes,
And Kingdomes thou hast got:
I will not giue this emptie Tunne,
For I regard them not.
Nay if thou wouldst exchange thy crown,
For this same Cap I weare:
Or giue thy Scepter for my Staffe,
I would not do't I swere.
Doest see this tubbe? I tell thee man
It is my common wealth:
Doest see yon water? tis the Wine?
Doth keepe me sound in health.
Doest see these rootes that grow about
The place of my abode?
These are the dainties which I eate,
My back'd, my roste, my sod.
Doest see my simple three-foote stoole?
It is my chayre of state:
Doest see my poore plaine wooden dish?
It is my siluer plate.
Do'st see my Wardrope? then beholde
This patched seame-rent gowne:
Doest see yon mat and bull-rushes?
VVhy th' are my bed of down.
Thou count'st mee poore and beggerly,
Alas good carefull King:
When thou art otfen sighing sad,
I chearful sit and sing.
Content dwels not in Pallaces,
And Courts of mightie men:
For if it did, assure thy selfe,
I would turne Courtier then.
No Alexander th' art dedeiu'd,
To censure of me so:
That I my sweet, contented life,
For troubles will forgoe:
Of a reposed life tis I,
Can make a iust report:
That haue more vertues in my Tun,
Then is in all thy Court.
For what yeelds that but vanities,
Ambition, Enuy, Pride:
Oppression, wrongs and crueltie,
Nay euerie thing beside.
These are not for my company,
Ile rather dwell thus odde,
Whoe euer walkes amongst sharp thornes,
Had neede to goe well shod.
On mightie men I cannot fawne,
Let flatterie crouch and creepe:
The worlde is naught, and that man's wise,
Least league with it doth keepe.
A crowne is heavie wearing, King
It makes thy head to ake:
Great Alexander, great accounts
Thy greatnes hath to make
Who seeketh rest, and for the same
Doth to thy court repayre:
Is wise like him that in an Egge
Doth seeke to finde a Hare.
If thou hadst all the world thine owne,
That world would not suffice:
Thou art an Eagle (mightie man)
And Eagles catch no flies.
I like thee for thy patience well,
VVhich thou doest shew, to heare me:
Ile teach thee some what for thy paynes,
Draw but a littell neare me:
Some honest prouerbes that I haue,
Upon thee Ile bestowe:
Thou didst not come so wise to me
As thou away shalt goe.
My Mansion being a Tunne:
And stoode directly opposite,
Between me, and the Sunne.
Morrow (quoth he) Philosopher,
I yeelde thee time of day:
Marrie (said I) then Emperor,
I prethee stand away.
For thou depriuest me of that,
Thy power hath not to giue:
Nor all thy mightie fellow kings,
That on earthes foote-ball liue.
Stand backe I say, and rob me not,
In wrong me in my right:
The Sunne would shine vpon me,
But thou tak' st away his light.
With this he stept aside from me,
And smiling did intreate:
For he liked my conceite.
Ile haue thy house brought nie my court,
I like thy vaine so well:
A neighbour verie neare to me,
I meane to have thee dwell.
If thou bestow that paine (quoth I)
Pray when the worke is don,
Remooue thy Court and carrie that,
A good way from my Tunne.
I care not for thy neighbour-hood,
Thy Treasure, trash I hold:
I doe esteeme my Lanterne horne,
As much as all thy golde.
The costlyest cheere that earth affords,
(Take Sea and aire to boote)
I make far lesse account thereof,
Then of a Carret-roote.
For all the robes vppon thy backe,
So costly, rich and strange:
This plaine poore Gowne, thou seest me wear
Thred-bare, I will not change.
For all the pearle and Precious Stones,
That is at thy commaund:
I will not giue this little Booke,
That heere is in my hand.
For all the Citties, cruntries, Townes,
And Kingdomes thou hast got:
I will not giue this emptie Tunne,
For I regard them not.
Nay if thou wouldst exchange thy crown,
For this same Cap I weare:
Or giue thy Scepter for my Staffe,
I would not do't I swere.
It is my common wealth:
Doest see yon water? tis the Wine?
Doth keepe me sound in health.
Doest see these rootes that grow about
The place of my abode?
These are the dainties which I eate,
My back'd, my roste, my sod.
Doest see my simple three-foote stoole?
It is my chayre of state:
Doest see my poore plaine wooden dish?
It is my siluer plate.
Do'st see my Wardrope? then beholde
This patched seame-rent gowne:
Doest see yon mat and bull-rushes?
VVhy th' are my bed of down.
Thou count'st mee poore and beggerly,
Alas good carefull King:
When thou art otfen sighing sad,
I chearful sit and sing.
Content dwels not in Pallaces,
And Courts of mightie men:
For if it did, assure thy selfe,
I would turne Courtier then.
No Alexander th' art dedeiu'd,
To censure of me so:
That I my sweet, contented life,
For troubles will forgoe:
Of a reposed life tis I,
Can make a iust report:
That haue more vertues in my Tun,
Then is in all thy Court.
For what yeelds that but vanities,
Ambition, Enuy, Pride:
Nay euerie thing beside.
These are not for my company,
Ile rather dwell thus odde,
Whoe euer walkes amongst sharp thornes,
Had neede to goe well shod.
On mightie men I cannot fawne,
Let flatterie crouch and creepe:
The worlde is naught, and that man's wise,
Least league with it doth keepe.
A crowne is heavie wearing, King
It makes thy head to ake:
Great Alexander, great accounts
Thy greatnes hath to make
Who seeketh rest, and for the same
Doth to thy court repayre:
Is wise like him that in an Egge
Doth seeke to finde a Hare.
If thou hadst all the world thine owne,
That world would not suffice:
Thou art an Eagle (mightie man)
And Eagles catch no flies.
I like thee for thy patience well,
VVhich thou doest shew, to heare me:
Ile teach thee some what for thy paynes,
Draw but a littell neare me:
Some honest prouerbes that I haue,
Upon thee Ile bestowe:
Thou didst not come so wise to me
As thou away shalt goe.
He that performes not what he ought,
But doth the same neglect:
Let him be sure not to receiue
The thing he doth expect.
But doth the same neglect:
Let him be sure not to receiue
The thing he doth expect.
When once the tall and loftye Tree
Vnto the ground doth fall:
Why euery Peassant hath and Axe
To hewe his boughes withall.
Vnto the ground doth fall:
Why euery Peassant hath and Axe
To hewe his boughes withall.
He that for vertue merrits well
And yet doth nothing clayme:
A double kinde of recompence
Deserueth for the same.
And yet doth nothing clayme:
A double kinde of recompence
Deserueth for the same.
Acquaint me but with whom thou goest
And thy companions tell,
I will resolue thee what thou doest,
Whether ill done or well.
And thy companions tell,
I will resolue thee what thou doest,
Whether ill done or well.
He knowes enough that knoweth nought
If he can silence keepe:
The Tongue oft makes the Hart to sigh,
The Eyes to wayle and weepe.
If he can silence keepe:
The Tongue oft makes the Hart to sigh,
The Eyes to wayle and weepe.
He takes the best and choysest course
Of any man doth liue:
That takes good counsel, when his freind
Doth that rich Iewell giue.
Of any man doth liue:
That takes good counsel, when his freind
Doth that rich Iewell giue.
Good horse and bad, the Ryder sayes,
Must both of them haue Spurres:
And he is sure to rise with Fleaes
That lyes to sleepe with Curres.
Must both of them haue Spurres:
And he is sure to rise with Fleaes
That lyes to sleepe with Curres.
He that more kindnes sheweth thee
Then thou art vs'd vnto,
Eyther already hath deceiu'd
Or shortly meanes to do.
Then thou art vs'd vnto,
Eyther already hath deceiu'd
Or shortly meanes to do.
Birds of a feather and a kinde,
Will still together flocke:
Heed neede be verie streight himselfe,
That doth the crooked mocke.
Will still together flocke:
Heed neede be verie streight himselfe,
That doth the crooked mocke.
I haue obserued diuers times,
Of all sortes olde and young:
That he which hath the lesser heart,
hath still the bigger tongue.
Of all sortes olde and young:
That he which hath the lesser heart,
hath still the bigger tongue.
He that's a bad and wicked man,
Appearing good to th' eye:
May doe thee many thousand wrongs,
Which thou canst neuer spie.
Appearing good to th' eye:
May doe thee many thousand wrongs,
Which thou canst neuer spie.
In present want, deferre not him
Which doth thy helpe require:
The water that is farre off fetch'd
Quencheth not neighbour fire.
Which doth thy helpe require:
The water that is farre off fetch'd
Quencheth not neighbour fire.
He that hath money at his will,
Meate, Drinke, and leasure takes:
But he that lackes, must mend his pace,
Neede a good Foote-man makes.
Meate, Drinke, and leasure takes:
But he that lackes, must mend his pace,
Neede a good Foote-man makes.
He that the Office of a friend,
Vprightly doth respect:
Must firmely loue his friend profest,
With fault and his defect.
Vprightly doth respect:
Must firmely loue his friend profest,
With fault and his defect.
He that inioyes a white Horse, and
A faire and daintie wife:
Must needes finde often cause, by each
Of discontent and strife.
A faire and daintie wife:
Must needes finde often cause, by each
Of discontent and strife.
Chuse thy companions of the good,
Or else conuerse with none:
Rather then ill accompaned,
Farre better be alone.
Or else conuerse with none:
Rather then ill accompaned,
Farre better be alone.
Watch ouer wordes, for from the mouth,
There hath much euill sprung,
Tis better stumble with thy feete,
Then stumble with thy tongue.
There hath much euill sprung,
Tis better stumble with thy feete,
Then stumble with thy tongue.
Not outward habite, Vertue tis,
That doth aduance thy fame:
The golden bridle betters not
A Iade that weares the same.
That doth aduance thy fame:
The golden bridle betters not
A Iade that weares the same.
The greatest ioyes that euer were,
At length with sorrow meetes:
Taste Hony with thy fingers end,
And surfet not on sweetes.
At length with sorrow meetes:
Taste Hony with thy fingers end,
And surfet not on sweetes.
A Lyer can doe more then much,
Worke wonders by his lyes:
Turne Mountaines into Mole-hils,
And huge Elephants to flies.
Worke wonders by his lyes:
Turne Mountaines into Mole-hils,
And huge Elephants to flies.
Children that were vnfortunate,
Their Parents alwaies praise:
And attribute all thriftinesse,
Vnto their fore-gone daies.
Their Parents alwaies praise:
And attribute all thriftinesse,
Vnto their fore-gone daies.
When sicknesse enters Healths strong holde
And life begins to yeelde:
Mans forte of flesh to parley comes,
And death must win the field.
And life begins to yeelde:
Mans forte of flesh to parley comes,
And death must win the field.
The flatterer before thy face,
with smiling lookes will stand:
Presenting hony in his mouth,
A Rasor in his hand.
with smiling lookes will stand:
Presenting hony in his mouth,
A Rasor in his hand.
The truly Noble minded, loues,
The base and seruile, feares:
Who euer tels a foole a tale,
Had neede to finde him eares.
The base and seruile, feares:
Who euer tels a foole a tale,
Had neede to finde him eares.
To meddle much with idle thinges,
Would vexe a wise mans head:
Tis labour, and a wearie worke,
To make a Dog his bed.
Would vexe a wise mans head:
Tis labour, and a wearie worke,
To make a Dog his bed.
The worst wheele euer of the Cart,
Doth yeeld the greatest noice,
Three women make a market, for
They haue suffiicient voice.
Doth yeeld the greatest noice,
Three women make a market, for
They haue suffiicient voice.
First leafe al fooles desire to learne
With stedfast fixed eyes:
In this, All other Idiots are,
And they exceeding wise.
With stedfast fixed eyes:
In this, All other Idiots are,
And they exceeding wise.
When once the Lyon breathlesse lyes
whom all the forrest feard,
The very Hares, presumptuously
Will pull him by the beard.
whom all the forrest feard,
The very Hares, presumptuously
Will pull him by the beard.
Cease not to doe the good thou oughtst,
Though inconvenience growe:
A wiseman will not Seede-time loose,
For feare of euerie Crowe.
Though inconvenience growe:
A wiseman will not Seede-time loose,
For feare of euerie Crowe.
One man can neuer doe so well,
But some man will him blame:
Tis vaine to seeke please euerie man,
Ioue cannot doe the same.
But some man will him blame:
Tis vaine to seeke please euerie man,
Ioue cannot doe the same.
To him that is in miserie,
Doe not affliction adde:
With sorrow to loade sorrowes backe,
Is moste extreamely bad.
Doe not affliction adde:
With sorrow to loade sorrowes backe,
Is moste extreamely bad.
Show me good fruite on euil trees,
Or Rose that growes on Thistle:
Ile vndertake at sight thereof,
To drinke to thee and whistle.
Or Rose that growes on Thistle:
Ile vndertake at sight thereof,
To drinke to thee and whistle.
Censure what conscience restes in him,
That sweares he justice loues:
And yet doth pardon hurtfull Crowes,
To punish simple Doues.
That sweares he justice loues:
And yet doth pardon hurtfull Crowes,
To punish simple Doues.
There's many, that to aske might haue,
By their odde silence crost:
What charge is speech vnto thy tongue,
By asking, pra'y whats lost?
By their odde silence crost:
What charge is speech vnto thy tongue,
By asking, pra'y whats lost?
He serues for nothing that is iust,
And faithfull in his place:
Yet for his duetie well perform'd,
Is not a whit in grace.
And faithfull in his place:
Yet for his duetie well perform'd,
Is not a whit in grace.
He makes him-selfe a mothers slaue,
And feares doth vnder goe:
That vnto one being ignorant,
Doth his owne secrets show.
And feares doth vnder goe:
That vnto one being ignorant,
Doth his owne secrets show.
On Neptune wrongfull he complaines
That oft hath bene in daunger:
And yet to his deuouring waues
Doth not become a straunger.
That oft hath bene in daunger:
And yet to his deuouring waues
Doth not become a straunger.
Age is an honourable thing,
And yet though yeares be so,
For one wise-man with hoary hayres,
Three dozen fooles I knowe.
And yet though yeares be so,
For one wise-man with hoary hayres,
Three dozen fooles I knowe.
FINIS.
| Diogenes Lanthorne | |