University of Virginia Library

The third Satyre.

It is a faulte, a common faulte,
that all our minstrels vse:
The more you seme to craue a songe,
the more they will refuse.
Requeste them not they neuer cease:
righte so woulde Tygille fayre,
A singer of Sardinia,
thoughe Cesar shoulde not spare,
For his, and for his fathers sake
sum musyke to requyre.
Yet woulde his humble suite ofte tymes
cum shorte of his desyre.
He myghte haue forsde him therunto:
but Tygille, if it had
Cumde in his braine, woulde of him selfe,
take on, as he were mad.
He, Bacchus ballets woulde recorde
sumtymes the trible parte
Sumtymes, the quauerynge deskantdure
sumtymes, to vaunte his arte,
A boysterouse basse he bounsed out,
and iumbled on his stringes,
No dram he had of constancy:
so fickle in his things.
Ofte tymes, he ran, as fled from foe
oftetymes in solemne pace
He woulde proceade, as thoughe he were
in seruynge Iunos grace.
Sumtymes, an hundreth wayting men,
sumtymes he kepte but ten:
Sumtymes he spoke of potentats,
and on his honour then
Was all his talke: sumtymes, let me
one dishe well dighted haue,
(Thus would he say), and one course gowne
my corps from coulde to saue.
To this good husbande, that coulde be
with pittance smale content,
If sum good frendly man, of hope
ten hundred crownes had lent.
Within fyue dayes, no groate he had,
in purse, ne yet in cheste:
All nighte he wakde, whilste morning came,
all day he tooke his reste.
Was neuer man so litle stayde.
but sum, will say to me,
And what are you, sum selye saincte?
nay, halfe as ill as he:
One Meuius, did frumpe and floute
at Neuie, then awaye:
A frende of his, a stander by,
what serray what I say?
(Quod he): doste thou not know thy selfe,
nor thincke that we the knowe?

Meuius.

My selfe, yes, I wincke at my selfe:

Po.

Po therfore, a wincking dawe.
This is, a wicked, witlesse, loue,
not to be wincked at:
Synce, thou doste know, and see thy sinne,
and vse to wyncke at that:
What meaneste thou, in others faults,
so pearsantly to prye

Epidaure taken for all kynde of serpents.

With Egles syghte, or Epidaurs
that suttle serpentes eye?
But if in case, an other carpe
sum cryme, he sees in thee,
He is too rashe, and vndiscreete,
and no good fellowe he.
A sheepe, a verey gestynge stocke,
he treades his shoe awrye,
His gowne sitts slacke, his heade vnkempte,
vnciuyle, by and by.
But he his good, and godly to,
and one that wills the well,
And thoughe his bodye be not braue,
greate witte may in him dwell.
Well, ryfle thou thy conscience,
and looke thou be not led
With any vyce, which nature hath,
or custome in the bred.
In feildes vnforowde frute is none,
for brakes all ouer growes:
To blowe retreate, and to returne
from whence my matter flowes:
If we doe strongly loue a thing,
and lyke verey muche,
Thoughe faultes in it be euidente,
Yet we will see none suche.
I woulde, in race of amytye
such dotage we might vse,
And that vertue, by honeste name,
such curtsye woulde excuse.
For as the father for ill shape,
his sonne doth not disdayne:
So frendes, at times, must beare with frendes,
though faultes in them remayne.
The sonne he squynts, the father saythe

Sysiphus.

he hath a pincking eye,
His legges misshapde, the father sayth,
his legge but standes awrye.
The parents pleasure much, to prayse,
and prattle to the ladde,
Thy foote is verey greate (sayth he)
thy foote is swelde to badde.
Haste thou, a frende, that dyets harde?
Well, call him thriftye than:
Haste thou, a frende, a bragging lout?
call him a iollye man:
The king of fellowes, amongste frendes,
for hym no better name.
Haste thou, a frende, with face of brasse,
that bragges without all shame?
Compte him, of stearne, and haughtye hearte,
that, well dare speake his mynde:
That will not flatter, nor yet feare,
how soeuer blowes the wynde.
If, he be suttle, call him sage,
if wylye, call him wyse:
This, this is it, that winnes thy frendes,
and wun, in frendship tyes.
But we, full ill construction,
of vertue selfe, do make
And eftsones, do eclipps the praise
thats due for vertues sake.
For, if wyth vs be conuersaunte
sum humble, lowly soule
We calle him goose, and disarde doulte,
and fowlye fatted nowle.
And, if a man deale warylye,
and beare him selfe vppryghte,
Amongste such folke, as fosher fraude,
and practise slylye sleighte,
For name of skilfull, wyttye man,
and one that takes good heede
He is a deepe dissemblyng man,
and craftye for his meede.
If, that a man can not conceale,
but tell his verdicte free,
(As I Mæcenas patrone myne)
haue done full ofte to thee:
If, that he speake to one thats whishte,
or looketh on his booke,
Or talke not all in printe or tune,
(say we) this coddes heade, (looke)
This asse, doth wante his comon sence.
woes me, and oute, (alas)
How doe we aggrauate such lawes,
as gainste our selues doth passe?
For, faultlesse (doubtles) borne is none,
and he, is euen the beste,
Whose, lyfe syncere admitteth fewe,
and with the leaste is preste.
A frindly man, (as meete it is)
the good, with bad will wey,
If much be bad, and more be good,
let soulderde frendship stay.
Let vs, in equall ballaunce paise,
and do as we woulde haue:
Wouldste thou thyne owne offences cloke?
in others faultes not raue.
It is but ryght, that mum, shoulde mum,
and perdon, perdon craue.
For shorte, in that, the vyce of wrathe
will be our tenaunte still,
And brutishe parte of moodie mynde,
will lodge fections ill:
Why do we not, by reasons rule,
and by proportion iuste,
Deme of the cryme, as it is done,
and mulcte it as we muste?
If, that the maister byd his man,
from borde to take a dishe,
The man, doth sipple vp the brothe,
or feede on broken fishe:
His maister, hangs him straighte vpponte:
who will not houlde him mad
As Labec? and why not thou

Labio a lauishe toungued lo sel. who still was barkyng at Auguste.

as frantyke, and as bad?
Thy frende offendes, and graunts his guilt,
thou, wilt him not forgeue,
What arte thou then? a testye churle,
greate pittye thou shouldste lyue.
If thou him hate, and shun his syghte,
(as Drusos detters doe)
Thou shalte be dresde, lyke Drusos selfe,

A creditours.

he, for to lend to moe,
Doth sheare, and shaue and powle, and presse,
well, when his audit cums,
When he most hopes of best recepte
and to suruewe his sums.
Then, gawlye wordes (for feare of strypes)
(when he his coumpts hath red)
He doth put vp, with cap, and knee,
at those which from him fled.

A good felow.

Euander cums vnto my house,
perhapps, he drincks to much,
Or breaks a iugge, or staines my gowne,
or, eats my dyat, suche,
As was preparde, and plasde for me,
is he, the lesse for this,
A merry grigge, a iocande frende,
for euery sillye misse?
Shoulde I, go baull a maine at him,
as he had pickte my purse,
Or me discryde, his pledge denyed
or done sum thinge, thats woorse?
Who, almost hath at any tyme
thoughte faltes of equall weyghte?
Philosophers, (that bookish broode)
may, teache the thinge by sleighte
But skille, and practyse counterplea,
and profit it denyes,

Iustice rather by profyte then nature.

Profyt, the nurse of iuste, and righte,
as tyme, and sequele tryes.
When man, abandon firste the earth,
and scraulde out of the moulde,
(A dum vnwyldye creature)
through hunger, and through coulde,
For foode, and harboure gan they fray:
at firste, with tooth, and nayle,
And then, with clubbes, and then with swords
which vse, had taughte tassayle:
Whilste wordes, ambasdors of the heart
(for to bewray the mynde)
Were put in vre: and names applyed,
then, to conserue their kynde,
They seaste from warres: made reare vp walles:
and poundinge lawes did make,
That none should filche, nor any robbe,
that none shoulde wedlocke brake.
For, or that cytyes had their walls,
or, Helen, came to Troye,
Haue women, bathde the worlde in blood,
(the cause of dyre annoye)
But, of the slayne was no recorde.
they raunged, in eatche where,
No spousailes knowne, more brute, then beastes,
the make, knew not his feare.
The mightieste man, lyke Bulle in herde,
did wreake, the meaner sorte:
Thus, graunte you must, that feare of wronge,
set ladye lawe in forte.
If, thou wilte calender in mynde,
the consequents of tydes,
By notinge, longe dyssente of tyme,
in what effecte, it glydes:
Well maiste thou see, that nature telth,
What lyke, what leaue, we muste,
Yet, nature, hath no pollycye,
to seuer wronge, from iuste.
But reason, bearing stroke in that,
for profit patrons ryghte
If, reason reele, thē, profytte paynts,
reason, saues both, by mighte,
And, as she dothe: so, will not shee,
vse argument, that he,
Which stealthe from hedge, and stealthe from churche,
in lyke offence shoulde be.
Let, discipline alleuied be,
in measure, to the vyce,
When, lyghte correction may take place,
fare not, in tyraunts wyse:
Ne yet, when greate outrage, is wroughte,
with ferule, doe not stryke.
Where iustice slakes, there feare decayes,
when, thou makste all faults lyke,
As purloyninge, with burglarye,
or robbinge by the way,
Trespasse, with cryme, doth not thy doume,
fordome to vs, and say?
That, thou, indede, in lyke effecte,
wouldste execute, the thinge,
If choyse, by voyce, had hoyste the vp,
inuested, once a Kynge:
A kyng, eche stoicke, is kynge,
for, stoicks all, be wyse:
And, wysdome, is it selfe, a wealthe:
throughe wealthe, do princes ryse:
Wysedom, is all: but, thou arte wyse:
then, safelye, be of cheare,
Thou art fayre, stronge, and eke, a kinge,
a cobler, though thou were.
What, wilte thou more?
Sto:
yes, Chrysip sayes,
the wyse man, mends no moyle,
Nor, soles no shoes:

Poe:
lo, thus, thou weanes,
to turne me, to a toyle.
The wyse man, thoughe, he leaue the acte,
reteynes the arte, as how?
Hermogines, sings not, at all:
Yet, musyke, he doth know.
Alphenus, made away, his tooles,
broke, shop vp, longe a goe,
Is he, not, an artyficer,
or not, a craftes man, thoe?
The wyse knowes moste, who, knoweth moste,
muste, beare awaye the name
Of facultye: de barre, them not,
but, let them, haue the same:
To rule a realme, is facultye,
which, none, but wyse, can tell:
If they can rule, though, they rule not,
Kynges, are they, by this spell.
The stoicke, wyse: the wyse, can rule:
to can, is, full as muche,
As, though he did: a Realme, he can:
then, let his name, be suche.
Can rule, is rule: none can, but wyse:
the stoicke, only wyse:
The stoicke, therfore, only kinge,
by this, so strayte a ryse.
Yea, stoicke, arte, thou create kynge,

Witte alone insufficiaunte in regalitie, if it be bereft of other solemne and laudable appertinente.

then, must thou, mainteyne porte:
Els, wagges, in streets, will twitche, thy bearde,
and make, at the, a sporte.
Excepte, thou take the, to thy handes,
and fence the, with a stick:
Theille, make the braste, for agonye,
in crowding, the so thicke.
And, thou, a wyse, wit puisaunte kinge,
that, houlde thy crowne, by witte:
Shalte, be enforste, to howle, and crye,
(for suche a state, vnfitte.)
In briefe, when, thou, a king, at meales,
doste ryse, or, syt thee downe,
So, sore precyse, thou arte, that, none
will byde thee, but, sum clowne.

Cryspine.

But, if, that I, miscarye oughte,
my frendes, will make, the beste,
So, I, to them, so, they, to me,
and this, ingendreth reste.
Thus, doe I passe, my pleasaunte dayes,
and feare, no stormye thinge,
This priuate lyfe, I woulde not chaunge,
with the, pretensed kynge.