The Whipper of the Satyre his pennance in a white Sheete or, The Beadles Confutation [by Edward Guilpin] |
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 | The Whipper of the Satyre his pennance in a white Sheete |  |
TO ALL IVDICIALL CENSVRERS.
Braue sp'rited Gentles, on whose comely frontThe Rose of fauour sits Maiesticall,
I bend the stubborne Atlas of sterne wroth:
But for the fau'rits of a bastard quill,
The instrument of a poore Beadles rage:
I greete them with a careles mindes resolue,
Trueth feares no touch, no dreades presumptions scourge;
Proud Tyrany by vsurpation
Cannot depose inuested Varitie:
Uaile Bonnet then insulting Tamberlayne;
At least a Monarch: if the Satyrs Whip
He must be carted then, for Pride must mount.
Marry and shall; but weele no Bazons tang:
Yes yes at any hand; Ile tell you why,
If all be whist, we shall want company.
Then Pride will faint: Oh haue a care to that,
It is no glory: Therefore a Doung-cart Ho'e,
To glut the world vvith greater admiration,
For thinges of vvorth feed all mens expectation.
But vvorthy Readers of my vvorthles Writ,
As Writers onely ayme to please the Wise,
So my endeuour is to lodge content
Within the closet of iudiciall hartes.
Iudge then aright, and vvith supposes helpe
Strengthen my imperfection, vvhere Art vvantes
Reason shall lend supply: imagin then
You see the Satyrs Whipper in his pride,
Drawne by an Infant of a Satyrist:
Who though he hath receiued many a ierke,
Read with what patience he susteynes that yoke:
But if you finde him out of order tripping,
Dispence with him that's subiect vnto whipping.
The Satyrs whipper his pennance in a white Sheete:
OR, The Beadles Confutation.
Now for a Scourge of Wire to tyranize
On the proud Carkase of poore penurie,
Whose daring Muse doth ouer dare peet eie
To gaze vpon her imbecillitie:
Too weake a foe to shun a destine dainger,
Vnder the habbit of a forraine stranger.
On the proud Carkase of poore penurie,
Whose daring Muse doth ouer dare peet eie
To gaze vpon her imbecillitie:
Too weake a foe to shun a destine dainger,
Vnder the habbit of a forraine stranger.
Were I a Satyre, as no Satirist,
A Poet, as I cannot poetize:
Or as thou tearm'st an Epigramatist:
Were I Arts maister, or could morralize,
I would dare more to him, that dares so much,
Whose thoughts diuine he doth so sharply touch.
A Poet, as I cannot poetize:
Or as thou tearm'st an Epigramatist:
Were I Arts maister, or could morralize,
I would dare more to him, that dares so much,
Whose thoughts diuine he doth so sharply touch.
O'rwening Beadell, term'd the Satyr's Whip,
No maruell though the worldes Inhabitants
Sucke the'nfectious blood of sinnes sweete lip,
And in such antique shapes so proudly vauntes:
No maruell if it be at such a stay,
When impecuninus Asses beare such sway.
No maruell though the worldes Inhabitants
Sucke the'nfectious blood of sinnes sweete lip,
And in such antique shapes so proudly vauntes:
No maruell if it be at such a stay,
When impecuninus Asses beare such sway.
I meane such Striplinges as perhaps he is,
Who ouertooke in vndertaking Armes,
Armes fram'd of wordes, who with a Iudas kisse
Doth hugg the world, and with sweet sowre alarm
Doth animate it to persist in sinne,
And why? because he knowes it ioyes therein.
Who ouertooke in vndertaking Armes,
Armes fram'd of wordes, who with a Iudas kisse
Doth hugg the world, and with sweet sowre alarm
Doth animate it to persist in sinne,
And why? because he knowes it ioyes therein.
But thou (vaineglorious) who so e're thou art,
That would'st disgrace such as anotomize
The times abusers, and by Wit and Art
Prooue faslhood trueth: How can that sympathize
Gainst thee I write, to thee my Writ commend
Vnknowne thy foe, though knowen perhaps frend.
That would'st disgrace such as anotomize
The times abusers, and by Wit and Art
Prooue faslhood trueth: How can that sympathize
Gainst thee I write, to thee my Writ commend
Vnknowne thy foe, though knowen perhaps frend.
Nor subtill Wit, nor sweete tong'd Poetrie,
Nor Art, the glorie of vaine glorious men,
Shall ayde my feeble imbecilitie:
The question is, how to confute thee then?
Reason, that in the robes of Sence did sute mee,
sayes, mauger Art or Wit I shall confute thee.
Nor Art, the glorie of vaine glorious men,
Shall ayde my feeble imbecilitie:
The question is, how to confute thee then?
Reason, that in the robes of Sence did sute mee,
sayes, mauger Art or Wit I shall confute thee.
And thus I argue, holding argument
Against the proud aspiring insolent
Apparreld in an imbry vestament,
As if within obliuions continent:
But such a hissing Serpent can not lie
Vnder the shadow of obscuritie.
Against the proud aspiring insolent
Apparreld in an imbry vestament,
As if within obliuions continent:
But such a hissing Serpent can not lie
Vnder the shadow of obscuritie.
Thou that ly'st lurking in a Buzards shape,
(A Fowles shape, fitting such a busie foole)
Thou which dost after some promotion gape,
Clawing the world; come take an humble stoole:
Seate thee by mee, do but as I will do,
And thou shalt haue a friend; yea, perhaps two.
(A Fowles shape, fitting such a busie foole)
Thou which dost after some promotion gape,
Clawing the world; come take an humble stoole:
Seate thee by mee, do but as I will do,
And thou shalt haue a friend; yea, perhaps two.
I hate the world, and yet hate not to bee,
Because I am perforce, euen what I am:
I scorne the world, and therefore I scorne thee,
That dallies with it as a Curtizan:
But had I fast lost oportunitie,
You should be whipt, and nor a Whipper be.
Because I am perforce, euen what I am:
I scorne the world, and therefore I scorne thee,
That dallies with it as a Curtizan:
But had I fast lost oportunitie,
You should be whipt, and nor a Whipper be.
Reuil'st thou him that telleth man of sinne,
Seeming to foster such as sinfull be:
Better it were thy Pen at rest had bin,
Then to vphold such publique villanie:
Should not the worlde be told of sinne; and why?
Yes maugre Art or Wit: I say you lye.
Seeming to foster such as sinfull be:
Better it were thy Pen at rest had bin,
Then to vphold such publique villanie:
Should not the worlde be told of sinne; and why?
Yes maugre Art or Wit: I say you lye.
Doth one amisse, or doth the Child offend?
Shall not the Fathers care correct that Child,
First by perswasions kindly to amende,
And gentle speeches, wordes with fauour milde?
Will not this do, and shall he spare the body
Of that faire Stripling? Go to, you are a noddy.
Shall not the Fathers care correct that Child,
First by perswasions kindly to amende,
And gentle speeches, wordes with fauour milde?
Will not this do, and shall he spare the body
Of that faire Stripling? Go to, you are a noddy.
Had I a Child (though bearing name of Will).
He should not tie that VVill vnto himselfe:
Selfe-will is nought, tis bad, tis passing ill,
Should Will in that will ioy, I'de ierke the elfe:
And so should'st thy way ward Child, or rather
I wish thee liue a foole, then proue a father.
He should not tie that VVill vnto himselfe:
Selfe-will is nought, tis bad, tis passing ill,
Should Will in that will ioy, I'de ierke the elfe:
And so should'st thy way ward Child, or rather
I wish thee liue a foole, then proue a father.
VVhether i'st Art or Poetrie or Wit,
Or all, or none; or but thine owne conceit,
That bids mee seeing sinne, not chide with it,
The last I hold it rather, sound retreit:
Be still, be still, twere good you call them in,
Your scoutes I meane, that so incourrage sinne.
Or all, or none; or but thine owne conceit,
That bids mee seeing sinne, not chide with it,
The last I hold it rather, sound retreit:
Be still, be still, twere good you call them in,
Your scoutes I meane, that so incourrage sinne.
Not tell the world of sinne? yes that I will,
Though thou with treble prohibition frowne:
I say tis naught, tis wild, tis worse then ill,
And some will turne it topsie turuie downe,
And thou thy seife a Worme, as others bee,
Thou flatter'st with the world: shall I with thee?
Though thou with treble prohibition frowne:
I say tis naught, tis wild, tis worse then ill,
And some will turne it topsie turuie downe,
And thou thy seife a Worme, as others bee,
Thou flatter'st with the world: shall I with thee?
No no, thou art vnwise for all thy wit,
For Reason and true-Iudgment tels me so.
Do I amisse? how should I know of it,
By hums, or hems, or signes? Good Wizard no.
If I haue sinne, and know not what it is,
I may be dam'd, not knowing my amisse.
For Reason and true-Iudgment tels me so.
Do I amisse? how should I know of it,
By hums, or hems, or signes? Good Wizard no.
If I haue sinne, and know not what it is,
I may be dam'd, not knowing my amisse.
But tis reply'd, if we would learne aright
We must giue eare vnto the heauenly voyce
Of sacred Teachers, comforting the spright,
Where holy people sing with dulcet noize:
All this I graunt, and there man may heare much,
But yet his eare of sinne can brooke no tuch.
We must giue eare vnto the heauenly voyce
Of sacred Teachers, comforting the spright,
Where holy people sing with dulcet noize:
All this I graunt, and there man may heare much,
But yet his eare of sinne can brooke no tuch.
If one amongst a multitude, tis well:
But preethee, canst thou tell mee which is hee?
The diuine Preacher tells men there is Hell,
And Heauen likewise; ther's blisse, and miserie:
Who seekes the one? or who doth shun the other?
So much is man to some a sinfull brother.
But preethee, canst thou tell mee which is hee?
The diuine Preacher tells men there is Hell,
And Heauen likewise; ther's blisse, and miserie:
Who seekes the one? or who doth shun the other?
So much is man to some a sinfull brother.
Those sacred Pastors take exceeding paine
To winne the wicked to a blessed life,
Commaunding man from wickednesse refraine,
But still dissention sets vs all at strife:
They may command as God commandeth then
But we will do our willes: Why? we are men.
To winne the wicked to a blessed life,
Commaunding man from wickednesse refraine,
But still dissention sets vs all at strife:
They may command as God commandeth then
But we will do our willes: Why? we are men.
But let the Heauens frowne, the Welkin thunder,
Perhaps weele feare a little, and minde our God:
Threats may preuaile, & signes may mak vs wonder
Yet feare we not, vntill we feele the rod.
Is this our life? then whip each other well,
Better be whipt on Earth, then scourg'd in Hell.
Perhaps weele feare a little, and minde our God:
Threats may preuaile, & signes may mak vs wonder
Yet feare we not, vntill we feele the rod.
Is this our life? then whip each other well,
Better be whipt on Earth, then scourg'd in Hell.
I meete a fellow as the streetes I pace,
That holdes the word of God vndet his arme:
I aske from whence he comes? with humble grace
And salutations that pretend no harme
He answeres me; From Paules: Who reeds to day?
A toward Scholler, but I could not stay.
That holdes the word of God vndet his arme:
I aske from whence he comes? with humble grace
And salutations that pretend no harme
He answeres me; From Paules: Who reeds to day?
A toward Scholler, but I could not stay.
And why (quoth I?) Faith thers no roome, sayes he.
Your reason sir? Are all the places taken?
No, tis his doctrine which disliketh me.
As how? Eeuen thus: Hee sayes I am forsaken.
How, of the Diuell? a happie man are you.
No, but of God: yea, and he sayes tis true.
Your reason sir? Are all the places taken?
No, tis his doctrine which disliketh me.
As how? Eeuen thus: Hee sayes I am forsaken.
How, of the Diuell? a happie man are you.
No, but of God: yea, and he sayes tis true.
Within this Eearth (and then he strikes his brest)
I know but onely one poore imperfection:
Which if but nam'd, the namer I detest,
The thought whereof, breedes such reiection:
For since the Satyrist so playd on mee,
I can not brooke to heare of letcherie. &c.
I know but onely one poore imperfection:
Which if but nam'd, the namer I detest,
The thought whereof, breedes such reiection:
For since the Satyrist so playd on mee,
I can not brooke to heare of letcherie. &c.
Now sir, to you sir, that can cast so well,
And haue a tricke in wrastling for a foyle;
Uerbosious sir, you that with words will quell
Vndaunted spirites, you that keepe such coyle,
By turning heeles vp: were you not I pray
At my Lord Maiors wrastling tother day?
And haue a tricke in wrastling for a foyle;
Uerbosious sir, you that with words will quell
Vndaunted spirites, you that keepe such coyle,
By turning heeles vp: were you not I pray
At my Lord Maiors wrastling tother day?
VVas it not you that fell the lubber downe,
And gaue the Miller such a clenly fall?
Or was it you lay flatly on the ground,
When cappes flew vp, and men cride, God saue all?
Or were you then at Cambridge whē you thought
You could do this and that, and all was nought?
And gaue the Miller such a clenly fall?
Or was it you lay flatly on the ground,
When cappes flew vp, and men cride, God saue all?
Or were you then at Cambridge whē you thought
You could do this and that, and all was nought?
But what, where, when, or who, I care not;
Haue at you sir, and that I tro's faire play:
I giue you warning, and in fayth sir spare not,
To shield your selfe against this first assay.
You stroue gainst many, I onely striue with one,
One single fall (kind sir) and I haue done.
Haue at you sir, and that I tro's faire play:
I giue you warning, and in fayth sir spare not,
To shield your selfe against this first assay.
You stroue gainst many, I onely striue with one,
One single fall (kind sir) and I haue done.
I lay my life I throw you: brauely sayd:
Nay I will do it, if not done before.
What dares your Worship my resolue vpbraid?
I stand on firme ground, and haue helpes good store
Part fire and tow, all mercie els is fled,
Stand vp for shame, the coller slips your head.
Nay I will do it, if not done before.
What dares your Worship my resolue vpbraid?
I stand on firme ground, and haue helpes good store
Part fire and tow, all mercie els is fled,
Stand vp for shame, the coller slips your head.
A Gentleman that had a wayward Foole,
To passe the time, would needes at push-pin play:
And playing false, doth stirre the wau'ring stoole,
The Innocent had spi'd him, and cri'd stay,
Play that againe sayd he, you did not win,
And then the foole began to cry for's pin.
To passe the time, would needes at push-pin play:
And playing false, doth stirre the wau'ring stoole,
The Innocent had spi'd him, and cri'd stay,
Play that againe sayd he, you did not win,
And then the foole began to cry for's pin.
Thou absurd Asse (his Maister then replyes)
Must you needes whine, & strooke him on the eare
With that the foole was whist, and dry'd his eyes,
And afterwards he durst not cry for feare:
When he perceiu'd the blowes he got thereby
The Foole grew wise, and did forbeare to cry
Must you needes whine, & strooke him on the eare
With that the foole was whist, and dry'd his eyes,
And afterwards he durst not cry for feare:
When he perceiu'd the blowes he got thereby
The Foole grew wise, and did forbeare to cry
Now censure (gentle spirits) i'st not faire?
Haue I not cast him clenly? Iudgement hoe?
Now by my Muse, and shees scarce worth a haire
Was neuer Wiseman had so kind a throe,
And by the foole in that lift ouerthrowne,
A foole or no foole, is the Whipper one?
Haue I not cast him clenly? Iudgement hoe?
Now by my Muse, and shees scarce worth a haire
Was neuer Wiseman had so kind a throe,
And by the foole in that lift ouerthrowne,
A foole or no foole, is the Whipper one?
One sayes an Eccho, from a hollow Caue
Wounded by thousandes which concord as one,
VVho calles a seeming honest man a knaue,
VVithout he prooue his imperfection:
And when by proofe that sinfull fault he know,
VVill he not call him friend that told him so.
Wounded by thousandes which concord as one,
VVho calles a seeming honest man a knaue,
VVithout he prooue his imperfection:
And when by proofe that sinfull fault he know,
VVill he not call him friend that told him so.
Men friendly Satyrist, to thy Pen againe,
At not one priuat Nouice terrifie
VVith halting lynes, thy Yron lasting braine,
VVhom sacred Trueth doth dayly nutrifie:
But with a brow according to thy hart,
Frowne on the world, and giue it his desart.
At not one priuat Nouice terrifie
VVith halting lynes, thy Yron lasting braine,
VVhom sacred Trueth doth dayly nutrifie:
But with a brow according to thy hart,
Frowne on the world, and giue it his desart.
How many soules within this little rownd,
Blest with the knowledge of Diuinitie,
And for their zeale vnto the high'st renownd
Vnder the scepter of Virginitie,
VVho haue a thousand thousand sundry times
Grafted sweete Grapes vpon vnpleasant Vines.
Blest with the knowledge of Diuinitie,
And for their zeale vnto the high'st renownd
Vnder the scepter of Virginitie,
VVho haue a thousand thousand sundry times
Grafted sweete Grapes vpon vnpleasant Vines.
And where is one that takes? where may we finde
A hart conuerted from impietie?
Do we not swimme in sinne? Are we not blind,
And howerly bath vs in iniquitie?
And yet for all these imperfections,
VVe should be free from all corrections?
A hart conuerted from impietie?
Do we not swimme in sinne? Are we not blind,
And howerly bath vs in iniquitie?
And yet for all these imperfections,
VVe should be free from all corrections?
No no, since kinde perswasions will not do,
Sung from the tongue of dulcet pietie,
Let irefull Fury whip and scourge them to,
Sounding their soules perpetuall miserie:
Hell gapes for such, and such as sinfull bee
Must taste the horror of obscuritie.
Sung from the tongue of dulcet pietie,
Let irefull Fury whip and scourge them to,
Sounding their soules perpetuall miserie:
Hell gapes for such, and such as sinfull bee
Must taste the horror of obscuritie.
Insatiate Pride, whose siluer spangled tyre,
Makes her admired in a vulgar eye,
Her dangling Aglers which so high aspire,
As if she were not base mortallitie:
Ringes euery houre her soules killing knell,
And summons her vnto the court of Hell.
Makes her admired in a vulgar eye,
Her dangling Aglers which so high aspire,
As if she were not base mortallitie:
Ringes euery houre her soules killing knell,
And summons her vnto the court of Hell.
But when a sinne is spoken generall,
Who will assume it, and say I am shee:
Yet if a man meete Pride maiesticall,
And to her face say, Poore proude miserie,
Vaile Bonnet huswife, what? I know your name,
Shee'le blush & hide her wanton face for shame.
Who will assume it, and say I am shee:
Yet if a man meete Pride maiesticall,
And to her face say, Poore proude miserie,
Vaile Bonnet huswife, what? I know your name,
Shee'le blush & hide her wanton face for shame.
If this will then force reformation,
Why shall I feare to say a knaue's a knaue?
What shall I stand in dread of coniuration,
Because Untrusse hath from his duskie Caue
Sent a leane writhen Beadle all in haste,
To lay the mantion of the Satyres waste.
Why shall I feare to say a knaue's a knaue?
What shall I stand in dread of coniuration,
Because Untrusse hath from his duskie Caue
Sent a leane writhen Beadle all in haste,
To lay the mantion of the Satyres waste.
No no, auaunt bace Feare, it cannot bee,
Tell him, the Satyre may not be deposd,
So long as Trueth sings his Apologie:
Nor is he of so bace a mould composd,
As to be subiect to a slight impression,
For a true Satyre's guyltles of transgression.
Tell him, the Satyre may not be deposd,
So long as Trueth sings his Apologie:
Nor is he of so bace a mould composd,
As to be subiect to a slight impression,
For a true Satyre's guyltles of transgression.
If I should say, thou wert a busie Sir,
With a good conscience canst thou say I lie?
Was neuer Whipper kept so great a stir,
Hauing such careles soules for Tyrranie:
For were it not a Gentleman's disgrace,
I'de tearme the Whipper foole vnto his face.
With a good conscience canst thou say I lie?
Was neuer Whipper kept so great a stir,
Hauing such careles soules for Tyrranie:
For were it not a Gentleman's disgrace,
I'de tearme the Whipper foole vnto his face.
Perhaps your wisedome will a lash impose
Of fell correction, on my tender backe:
Well if you do, you shall no labour lose,
Ile take it well in woorth: but if you lacke,
What so you chaunce to lend without request,
I will repay't with double interest.
Of fell correction, on my tender backe:
Well if you do, you shall no labour lose,
Ile take it well in woorth: but if you lacke,
What so you chaunce to lend without request,
I will repay't with double interest.
Meane time, good Satyre to thy wonted traine,
As yet there are no lettes to hinder thee:
Thy touching quill with a sweete moouing straine
Sings to the soule a blessed lullabie:
Thy lines beget a tymerous feare in all,
And that same feare deepe thoughts angellical.
As yet there are no lettes to hinder thee:
Thy touching quill with a sweete moouing straine
Sings to the soule a blessed lullabie:
Thy lines beget a tymerous feare in all,
And that same feare deepe thoughts angellical.
So that the whylome leawd lasciuious man,
As now remote from his abhorred life,
And cloathes the dalliance of a Curtezan,
And euery breathing wicked soule at strife:
Contending which shall first begin to mend,
That they may glory in a blessed end.
As now remote from his abhorred life,
And cloathes the dalliance of a Curtezan,
And euery breathing wicked soule at strife:
Contending which shall first begin to mend,
That they may glory in a blessed end.
Troupe then (wise Foole) and with a blush of shame
Of fine coullor shadow thy pale face:
Know thy thoughts tow'r high as golden fame:
But Pride aspiring, falles with foule disgrace,
Yeeld then confuted, and with patience beare
This gentle pennance, as a single share.
Of fine coullor shadow thy pale face:
Know thy thoughts tow'r high as golden fame:
But Pride aspiring, falles with foule disgrace,
Yeeld then confuted, and with patience beare
This gentle pennance, as a single share.
FINIS.
| The Whipper of the Satyre his pennance in a white Sheete | |