A Medicinable Morall that is, the two Bookes of Horace his Satyres, Englyshed accordyng to the prescription of saint Hierome. The Wailynges of the Prophet Hieremiah, done into Englyshe verse. Also Epigrammes. T. Drant |
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THE FIFTE SATIRE,
whiche the Poet had written of his iorneying
to and fro, wholye altered by the translator. |
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 | A Medicinable Morall |  |
THE FIFTE SATIRE, whiche the Poet had written of his iorneying to and fro, wholye altered by the translator.
Frende
Horace thoughe you maye me vse
as to translate your verse,
Yet your exployte I do refues,
at this tyme to reherse.
Not euery tricke, nor euery toye,
that floweth from your braine,
Are incident into my pen,
nor worthie of my paine.
(If all be true that sum surmyse)
for dyuers thincke it good,
To haue discriude the clatteringe broyles,
of Mauors raging wood:
Or for to know the climats hye,
to clym vnto the skyes:
To view the starres, their placing eeke
and how they set and ryse.
Or for to reade the quiddityes
and queerks of logique darke,
To heare the babblinge sophisters,
how they for naughte can barke.
Or for to wryte things naturall,
thinges misticall and geason:
The harmonie of elements
how they accorde by reason.
To sterte vp in astrologie
the casuals of men
To limit, and forlote by arte,
to shew by whom and when,
Thinges were conueyde: and to erecte
through what aspecte and why,
Pompey abroad, Cesar at home,
were fortuned to dye.
To tell how man a creature,
of reasonable mynde
Is sociable, apte, and fitt,
to companie by kynde.
To read the sacred histories,
of man how he began:
How firste he fell, through whome he fell,
what of him selfe he can.
To learne the helpes of holye tongue
the doctors to peruse:
To course the schoolmen, as they lye
and Horace to refuse.
Those cacklinge pyes, that vse to prate,
so much againste humanytye,
Are commonly the lewdest dawes,
and skillesse in diuinitie.
The antique fathers vsde it much,
thapostle doth the same:
Now all muste downe, in pullinge downe
that fooles may get a name.
Som innouation must be made
or chaunge of vsed things,
Needes muste there be: when all woulde passe
and all woulde needes be kynges.
Moyses in writinge his fyue bookes
confearde with prophane tyme
Yet fewe or none, that I haue harde,
appeached him of cryme.
From Egipte, we may borow stil,
it neuer was forbod,
So it be for the weale of man
and glory of our God.
To reade sole scriptures, is I graunte
a thinge of lesser paynes,
And those that fayne woulde haue it so
woulde haue it so for gaines:
Unable for to get of toungues
or scyences a skyll
Then crye they soule diuinitye,
as though the rest were ill.
Diuinitie is gloriouse
and they but idle praters
Gainste whose outrage, a man mighte well
wryte forty godlye Satyres.
The wyse can reade humanitye
and beautifye their witte,
whileste fooles syt tatlyng to and fro
in talkinge againste it.
A good diuyne mighte the translate
(Horace) I can it proue:
Who so denyes, I do not doubte
to caste him downe my gloue.
And yet suche is the matter now
whereon thou doste indyte,
That I must play the Poet needes,
and wots not what to wryte.
Thy lawrell greene betake to me,
thy gowne of scarlet reade,
And proue a nouice howe I can
in after steppes I treade.
Feigne me to haue a Poets arte,
a natyue Poets brayne:
A veray Poete, sauyng that
I vse not for to fayne.
Dames of Pernas, of Helicon,
whence Pegas horse dyd flye:
(If yours it be) graunt this to me,
in processe not to lye.
Nay, thou O truthe, bothe God and man,
of whome I stande in awe:
Rule ore my wordes, that I ne passe
the compasse of thy lawe.
What shoulde I wryte gaynst wickednes
howe synne hath all the hyre:
Howe wyghtes are wed to wretchednes,
captiues to theyr desrye?
The Prophets haue bewayled that,
and he whose voyce so shryll:
Both heauen and earth with plaintife tune,
and dolours deepe dyd fyll.
The truthe hymselfe when he was here,
dyd truely thyngs foretell:
And wepte to see the sory plagues,
that afterwarde befell.
If they moude fewe, yf fewe woulde marke
the wordes of suche lyke men:
Howe may the silly Satyrists,
hope for amendment then.
In vayne for me to styrre or kepe
a racket wyth my rymes:
The sonnes of men, wyll styll be men
and plyaunt to the tymes.
What shoulde I wryte gaynst wyckednesse?
the worlde by her aduyce,
Hath broughte to passe, that moste beleue,
there is no kynde of vice.
For couetyse is coloured,
and though the Prophete kyng
Damne vsurers, yet styll we see
more practise of the thyng.
Dame Gluttony is too to hye:
she keepes in stately halls,
And gurmundyse is fellowshyp,
for so the worlde it calls.
So luste is nowe a lordly thyng,
and swearyng hath a grace,
Forswearynge couerde vnder zeale,
(alas) the cursed case.
What shoulde one write, dissemblyng dawes
(a wondrous tale to tell)
The better birdes of noble price,
by creakyng woulde expell.
The Popishe dawes, whom all men knowes,
To be styll blacke of hue:
Doo sweare them selues best protestants,
and byrdes thats onely true.
What shoulde I write? by colour all
true tytles they doo steale,
And couer thousande trecheries,
vnder pretensed zeale.
To knowe the matter perfectly,
to vnderstande it well:
Marke here what precise Commodus,
to Pertinax doothe tell.
Thynke Commodus to be such one,
as couertly in herte,
Doothe worshyp all Idolatrie,
and myndes not to conuerte.
And yet through shewe of godly zeale,
oure churche woulde quite deface,
To helpe the popyshe kyngdome vp,
and to reteyne his place.
Thynke Pertinax a peuyshe impe,
an impe of popyshe lyne.
Who styll wyll be a Catholike,
(though all the bookes) diuine,
Doo proue hys churche an heretike.)
Sir Commodus kepes styll
In Englande for commoditie:
Syr Pertinax he wyll
To Louayne, to the mother churche,
but howe they bothe haue sped,
Perceaue that by theyr proper talkes,
and what lyues they haue led.
The hunger waxeth sharpe and kene,
in Flemmyshe bareyn lande,
And Pertinax bet home with pyne,
takes Commodus by the hande.
Pertinax.
as to translate your verse,
Yet your exployte I do refues,
at this tyme to reherse.
Not euery tricke, nor euery toye,
that floweth from your braine,
Are incident into my pen,
nor worthie of my paine.
(If all be true that sum surmyse)
for dyuers thincke it good,
To haue discriude the clatteringe broyles,
of Mauors raging wood:
Or for to know the climats hye,
to clym vnto the skyes:
To view the starres, their placing eeke
and how they set and ryse.
Or for to reade the quiddityes
and queerks of logique darke,
how they for naughte can barke.
Or for to wryte things naturall,
thinges misticall and geason:
The harmonie of elements
how they accorde by reason.
To sterte vp in astrologie
the casuals of men
To limit, and forlote by arte,
to shew by whom and when,
Thinges were conueyde: and to erecte
through what aspecte and why,
Pompey abroad, Cesar at home,
were fortuned to dye.
To tell how man a creature,
of reasonable mynde
Is sociable, apte, and fitt,
to companie by kynde.
To read the sacred histories,
of man how he began:
How firste he fell, through whome he fell,
what of him selfe he can.
To learne the helpes of holye tongue
the doctors to peruse:
To course the schoolmen, as they lye
and Horace to refuse.
Those cacklinge pyes, that vse to prate,
so much againste humanytye,
Are commonly the lewdest dawes,
and skillesse in diuinitie.
The antique fathers vsde it much,
thapostle doth the same:
Now all muste downe, in pullinge downe
that fooles may get a name.
Som innouation must be made
or chaunge of vsed things,
and all woulde needes be kynges.
Moyses in writinge his fyue bookes
confearde with prophane tyme
Yet fewe or none, that I haue harde,
appeached him of cryme.
From Egipte, we may borow stil,
it neuer was forbod,
So it be for the weale of man
and glory of our God.
To reade sole scriptures, is I graunte
a thinge of lesser paynes,
And those that fayne woulde haue it so
woulde haue it so for gaines:
Unable for to get of toungues
or scyences a skyll
Then crye they soule diuinitye,
as though the rest were ill.
Diuinitie is gloriouse
and they but idle praters
Gainste whose outrage, a man mighte well
wryte forty godlye Satyres.
The wyse can reade humanitye
and beautifye their witte,
whileste fooles syt tatlyng to and fro
in talkinge againste it.
A good diuyne mighte the translate
(Horace) I can it proue:
Who so denyes, I do not doubte
to caste him downe my gloue.
And yet suche is the matter now
whereon thou doste indyte,
That I must play the Poet needes,
and wots not what to wryte.
Thy lawrell greene betake to me,
thy gowne of scarlet reade,
in after steppes I treade.
Feigne me to haue a Poets arte,
a natyue Poets brayne:
A veray Poete, sauyng that
I vse not for to fayne.
Dames of Pernas, of Helicon,
whence Pegas horse dyd flye:
(If yours it be) graunt this to me,
in processe not to lye.
Nay, thou O truthe, bothe God and man,
of whome I stande in awe:
Rule ore my wordes, that I ne passe
the compasse of thy lawe.
What shoulde I wryte gaynst wickednes
howe synne hath all the hyre:
Howe wyghtes are wed to wretchednes,
captiues to theyr desrye?
The Prophets haue bewayled that,
and he whose voyce so shryll:
Both heauen and earth with plaintife tune,
and dolours deepe dyd fyll.
The truthe hymselfe when he was here,
dyd truely thyngs foretell:
And wepte to see the sory plagues,
that afterwarde befell.
If they moude fewe, yf fewe woulde marke
the wordes of suche lyke men:
Howe may the silly Satyrists,
hope for amendment then.
In vayne for me to styrre or kepe
a racket wyth my rymes:
The sonnes of men, wyll styll be men
and plyaunt to the tymes.
What shoulde I wryte gaynst wyckednesse?
the worlde by her aduyce,
there is no kynde of vice.
For couetyse is coloured,
and though the Prophete kyng
Damne vsurers, yet styll we see
more practise of the thyng.
Dame Gluttony is too to hye:
she keepes in stately halls,
And gurmundyse is fellowshyp,
for so the worlde it calls.
So luste is nowe a lordly thyng,
and swearyng hath a grace,
Forswearynge couerde vnder zeale,
(alas) the cursed case.
What shoulde one write, dissemblyng dawes
(a wondrous tale to tell)
The better birdes of noble price,
by creakyng woulde expell.
The Popishe dawes, whom all men knowes,
To be styll blacke of hue:
Doo sweare them selues best protestants,
and byrdes thats onely true.
What shoulde I write? by colour all
true tytles they doo steale,
And couer thousande trecheries,
vnder pretensed zeale.
To knowe the matter perfectly,
to vnderstande it well:
Marke here what precise Commodus,
to Pertinax doothe tell.
Thynke Commodus to be such one,
as couertly in herte,
Doothe worshyp all Idolatrie,
and myndes not to conuerte.
And yet through shewe of godly zeale,
oure churche woulde quite deface,
and to reteyne his place.
Thynke Pertinax a peuyshe impe,
an impe of popyshe lyne.
Who styll wyll be a Catholike,
(though all the bookes) diuine,
Doo proue hys churche an heretike.)
Sir Commodus kepes styll
In Englande for commoditie:
Syr Pertinax he wyll
To Louayne, to the mother churche,
but howe they bothe haue sped,
Perceaue that by theyr proper talkes,
and what lyues they haue led.
The hunger waxeth sharpe and kene,
in Flemmyshe bareyn lande,
And Pertinax bet home with pyne,
takes Commodus by the hande.
God saue you gentyll Commodus,
howe haue you fared longe?
Commodus.
Na, veryly euen as you see,
well lykyng, fatte, and strong,
Of credite neuer better I:
what vrgent cause doothe make
You at this tyme from sacred soyle,
your iourney for to take?
Pertinax.
When we went to the holy towne,
from Englyshe flocke infecte,
Our want was wealthe, and coyne at wyll,
we were an happye secte.
But our long staye, was oure decaye,
men grudgde to geue vs more:
And Sarum with hys subtile booke,
hath cropte our credite sore.
Before, we gaue a countenaunce,
to all the worlde so wyde:
to haue our quarell tryde.
Suche cautels had we to beare of,
that who gainst vs dyd wryte,
We swore he was falne from the Churche,
of gyddynesse or spyte.
We bare them down that they wer nought,
rashe, raylyng, and yll spoken,
Lewde, and vnlearnde, but nowe our stythe
of forgery is broken.
Sarum hath walkde so waryly,
(it greuthe me to name hym)
That moste of men doo see his truthe,
we wote not why to blame hym.
Nowe they dispaire oure prostrate cause,
and of our safe retourne:
And suffer vs in beggery,
(Ah silly case) to mourne.
Commodus.
Ah silly case, nay silly fooles,
you myght haue lyued here,
In wealth and blisse, and euen as there,
haue kepte your conscience clere.
Pertinax.
In deede your letter writ to me,
dyd signifye no lesse:
But howe that you can vse it so,
I woulde you shoulde espresse.
Synce I came laste into the realme,
it was toulde me of trouthe,
That you aboue the rest of men,
vse to be freattynge wrothe
With ceremonies, is it so?
Iesu, what shoulde one hope?
They say that you doo caste them of,
as brought in by the Pope.
Can you speake so precisely here:
and beare vs so in hande?
as now the case doth stande.
Commo.
No Catholyke: Ah Pertinax
thou arte a mery man.
I speake, I graunte against the pope
and speake the worste I can.
And profitte him yet more then you.
(perhappes ye gin to muse)
But harke to me and listen well
what practise I doe vse.
When you did cut the salte sea fome,
with framed timbre borde,
And yeade to Louaine there to heare,
the Latine Romishe worde,
Then stormynge in my thoughtfull breste,
and sharpe beset with cares,
In mortall waues I wandred still,
in maze of my affayres.
Feare caste in all extremities
what shoulde I do thoughte I?
To sanctuarie of papistes
to Louaine shoulde I flye?
That were a way to begger me
to bringe me vnto neede:
And in so doinge, I shoulde woorke,
the mother churche smalle meede.
Aeneas came into my mynde,
that feynde him selfe a greeke,
And by that meanes made manye soules,
Lorde Dytis hall to seeke.
He can not hurte his foe the moste
that kepes the furste away:
I was resolude to keepe me close,
and see a furder stay.
I sayde my wounded conscience
did prickle more and more,
to remedye my sore.
I sayde my doubte was dangerous,
and therfore fayne woulde haue
Some clarkly man of eyensyght deepe,
within the same to raue.
Thys was the tenour of my tale,
that I woulde common fayne,
If some learnde man on thother syde,
woulde take on hym the payne.
The Protestants be mercyfull,
and glad to wyn vs all:
In brefe the chiefe woulde me at length
to common with them call.
Theyr reasonyng was to and fro,
to wyn me yf they coulde:
And I began as debonayre,
to render vp the houlde.
Nowe hearken (oulde frende Pertinax)
what was the spedy key:
To ope the locke of credits forte,
for me to beare a swey.
He that was counted too to fearse
and angry wyth the Pope,
I went to hym, and prayde hym ofte
my conscience for to grope.
Parted from hym, I woulde proteste,
and openly woulde saye:
That suche one was the greatest clarke
that was on lyue thys daye.
He that was holden moste of zeale,
and to the worlde the best:
Hym woulde I prayse aboue the sonne,
and so I purchast reste.
No more demaunde made of my faythe.
I faynde me very ielous:
drawebackes, and nothyng zealous.
And styll I praysde my confessours,
and made them so to swell,
Suche pulpit hornetts by my meanes,
That none durste with them mell.
And what that they to feede theyr mynde,
Or coloure ells woulde speake:
I mayntaynde it with toothe and nayle,
in all that I coulde creake.
Then was I dubde as true precise,
and faithfull by and by,
And none was compted hoate enough,
saue he and he and I.
I whysperde to and fro a pace,
and playde my parte so free:
That quarells, stept vp faste and faste,
A noble game to see.
And that the reste myght learne to stoupe,
and I myght growe vp styll:
An other fetche by peecemeale, I
into them dydde instyll.
My maysters lysten well (quod I)
take kepe what I shall saye.
Me thynks this church; this englishe churche,
is clogged at this daye,
With ceremonies more then nedes,
to tell you at a worde,
I would haue all thyngs iuste as they
were left vs by the Lorde.
This knewe I was the deyntye dyshe,
that so theyr passions fed:
I am not nowe to learne I trowe,
to bryng a babe to bed.
Nowe, whether for true conscience,
or els that they myght seeme
mighte so of them esteme:
Or els through our suggestions,
they gnawed so this bone,
That O good God, I woulde to God
they had bene let alone.
Nay truste me truly Pertinax
men woulde haue bene ful fayne,
To thruste out all those gospellers,
and sende for you againe.
How say you, was not this a drifte,
and that a drifte of hope?
Am I not nowe, as lege as you,
to our good lord the pope?
If there were talke of gospels grace,
of francknesse of our lybertie,
Then woulde I whet my tongue to speake,
againste the gifte of pollycie.
And that our seruice was consumde,
onlye in adoration:
Wheras the pryme church, vsde one prayer,
the reste in exhortation.
That ministers, why shoulde they not?
mighte goe euen lyke the reste
In suits of silke, in cheynes of golde,
apparelde with the beste.
That ministers mighte take and leaue
their orders when they woulde:
I wente about to make all naughte
by all the meanes I coulde.
This was my greateste anchoure hold,
I euer caste it thus:
The worse it fared with their churche,
the better much for vs.
Untowarde case, vnluckye case
Ah Pertinax I say
was caste downe in our waye.
And he that caste it, hath surueyde,
and markde our cardes so well,
That all oure driftes is nowe fordone,
and you abrode muste dwell.
As for my selfe, who but my selfe
I neuer felte lyke ease:
Not stoutest of the protestants
dare me in ought displease.
I made my matche I trowe with suche,
as dare not but vpbeare me:
What yf I knowe their giltie prankes
and therevppon they feare me?
Those wryng and wreste the meaner sorte,
whose myndes and tongues are free,
And so imbecill all theyr strengthe,
that they are naught to me.
I nowe can dubbe a protestant,
and eke disdubbe agayne:
And make a Papiste graduate,
if he wyll quite my payne.
Liuinges are myne, geuynges are myne,
the countenance is myne:
Promotions come to me alone,
or where I will assygne.
Yea Pertinax if thou wilte come,
of Laberinth ne dreede.
I can conducte thee safe and sounde,
by vertue of a threede.
I knowe who plaies the catte, and howe
her ioly krttles mouses,
I and my patrons leaue small lore,
in some right famous houses.
And if there be not speedie healpe.
against me and my fooles.
and learnyng from the Schooles.
In deede I studye harde my selfe,
but to what ende or why?
That I myght gette the greatest fee,
and put all others by.
As nowe I am, I coulde not wyshe
almoste a better staye:
If the precyse crepe vp agayne,
I knowe my wonted playe.
In the meane tyme I tell them playne
they are the greatest clarkes,
And that for theyr greate constancie,
the totall worlde them markes.
Yea I can tell them clawyngly
(but that is in their eare.)
That those whiche haue deposde them thus,
are persecuters cleare.
And if that some by pollicie,
in tyme doo not preuent them,
Ile egge them on to speake some thyng,
whiche spoken may repent them.
Well yf that those get vp agayne,
I kepe my iolly stay:
And if sir Pertinax you come,
I wyll not go away.
So that come papist, or precyse,
or formall conformable,
The precisde Papist kepes his roume,
lyke promontorie stable.
And yet, yf thou as palpable,
my conscience couldst grope,
Of honestie, I am full true,
vnto my lorde the Pope.
May happs when I haue filde my purse,
with takyng all this payne.
to Pertinax agayne.
Pertinax.
What Commodus thou turnes they selfe
as one shoulde turne the groate
Turne rounde, or else thou will be spyde
in turninge ofte thy coate.
Becawse, you talked of gropinge erste,
howe chauncde it heretofore,
That you agaynst the blessed pope,
so solemnlye haue swore.
Speake oute man, are you in a dumpe?
howe durssst you so farre go?
Commodus.
Iuraui lingua, sed mentem
non iuratam gero.
I tould them then, I spoke with tongue,
but neuer mente it so.
Pertinax.
Why do you heare their seruice still,
a thing of such abusion?
Commodus.
I could not els abyde with them,
to helpe them to confusion.
Pertinax.
What say you to the precyse stocke,
are they resolude that waye?
Commodus.
Sum parte of them is lyke my selfe,
the conformable say
That halfe of those whiche busylye
against those orders clatter,
Are Papistes ranke: as those may see
whiche wyll suruey the matter.
Pertinax.
Why doo they make so straite accompt
of thynges that bee but meane?
Commodus.
Pythagoras, why dyd he put
mans soule within a beane?
Pertinax.
What if your selfe for not wearyng
hereafter may be wrounge?
Commodus.
Tushe man I made them longe ago,
a verey Aesops tongue.
Synce you agaynst these churchly rites
so longe and sore dyd wynche,
Howe coulde you nowe resume agayne
so bucksome at a pynche?
Commadus.
A sayde (as ofte I vse to say)
that I was very poore,
Nathlesse woulde geue tone halfe I had
that I myght weare no more.
Pertinax.
I go to healpe a papist nowe,
that ginnes for to recant,
Commodus.
And I go nowe, for to moleste
a silly protestant.
O noble force of flattery,
Farewell olde fellowe myne,
But so farewell that you kepe close
and come to me to dyne.
Translatour.
Farewell a payre of hellyshe impes
of cankred Sathans race:
For you are enmies vnto God,
And his in euery place.
The true precise, none doo despise,
but all men knowe it well,
That they in learnynge and good lyfe,
moste commonly excell.
Not one of vs, but wylls them well
to keepe their godly name.
Nor euer thought to preiudice,
or to eclips the same.
Some be so wyse by Papistes guile,
they can not be abusde:
Yet Commodus hath fonded some,
it can not be excusde.
If I shoulde wryte of Commodus
the craftes of suche lyke men,
The tricklynge teares for hearty griefe
woulde ouerlode my pen.
he beares the bell awaye,
Some guardon due for his deserte,
The Lorde wyll sende one day.
The worlde is blearde with duskyng shoes,
and daselde with a glose:
But I appeale vnto the wyse,
and craue redresse of those.
Come what can come, howe muche can come,
I am at staye in mynde:
Theyr net of zeale, wherwith they steale,
for euer to vnwynde.
Since God and our liege Soueraigne
bulwarkes to Truthe doo stande:
We feare not Commodus his crafte,
nor Pertinax his hande.
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