Horace His arte of Poetrie, Epistles, and Satyrs Englished ::

It is good and profitable for the Maister somtimes to heare, the true, and honest instruction and aduertisement of his seruant. In olde time, seruantes might speake in the moneth of December, whilest Saturnes feastes were solemnised, frankely and at randon. The Poet bringeth in Dauus, detectynge his maisters practises.

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Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:

For Da. read Dauus
For S. read Simo

Dauus.
Ere whyles, I listned to your wordes,
and sumthinge woulde haue sayde,
But, I a seruaunte, and Dauus,
was halfe, and more a frayde.
Dauus, a true, and trustie page,
so muche as sence will geue.
A frende sir, so farre vnto you,
as I my selfe may lyue.

Simo.
Because our auncitours so woulde,
the freedom of Decembre
Enioy, speake out all things amisse,
that thou doste nowe remembre.
Some men do stifflye sticke to voyde,
and still pursue theyr praye,

Dauus,
Sum to and fro, now well nowe woorse,
and kepe no common stay.
Lyke Priscus, chaunging of his ringes,
who such attyre hath bought,
And chaungde his suites, so ofte a day
him selfe hath chaungde to noughte.
His house, and lande, to morgage layde,
yea, neede doth him compell,
In simple cotage to abyde,
where scarce a slaue woulde dwell.
At Athins, very studente lyke,
at Rome, a lustie lad,
I maruaile, what vnstable starres
what byrthsygnes once he had.
Volauerye stickes to one trade,
for gowte he can not ryse,
And therefore nowe he fees a man,
to caste for him the dyse.
Suche constaunte folke be better then
those chaunglings in and oute,
Who plunge in euerye follye, whiche
theire heades can bringe aboute.

Simo.
Wilte thou not say, thou stretche hempe, thou
whome thou meanes in thy pratlynge?

Dauus.
I meane euen the

S.
How so sir knaue?

Da.
For, thou wilte still be tatling
In praysing state of foraine tymes,
but if that thou mightest chuse,
And God would place the in those worldes,
no doubte, thou shouldste refuse.
Or thou in hearte didste neuer thincke,
whiche thou in worde hast sayde,
Or thou not stoutlye cleauiste to
the truth as halfe vnstayde.
Scarce fullie yet resolude to plucke
thy foote out of the myer.
At Rome thou loues to be abrode,
abrode, thou doste desyre
To cum to Rome, and dost extoll
that lyfe aboue the skye
If thou beest no mans geste abrode
then doste thou magnifye
The priuate cheare as though thou wouldste,
be bounde to lyue so stille:
And thinckes it well, that thou ne goyste
to tipple, and to swill.
But if sum bid the cum indede,
thou lins, not then to crie,
Oyle, water, haste my seruants haste,
awaye thou doste the hye.
Full manye sillie seruiters,
that wayte wyth emptie paunche
Say to them selues, when will this churle
his glutton stomacke staunche?
I am a smelfeaste bellyegod,
idle, and full of slouthe
A gredie gut, and at a worde
a seruaunte to my tothe.

Since thou art euen as yll, as I,
and worse to, in thine harte,
How durst thou first beginne with me,
as thoughe thou better warte?
Thou canst disguise thy sinne with words,
thy wickednes vnfould,

The satyre altered

Thou art more fole then I, which earst,
for fyftie grotes was sould
Explaine thy browes, restraine thy handes
alay thine anger fell,
What Cryspins porter toulde of the
I wil make bould to tel.
(Quod he) Dauus, that sillye foole,
hath not his masters cast,
His harte is euer in his tongue,
for if the fact be past
He takes no sounder rest, whilst he.
hath chatterd out the thing,
Then doth the swine, that hath her groine
new wounded with a ringe.
In open day, in open stretes,
he praunces, and he prates,
He makes the younkers al a flote,
to breake the brothells gates.
His acts are euer euydent,
and therfore rife in talke,
Because he doth not make pretence,
nor vnder coler walke.
His master goes in sage attyre:
that geues a sober shue,
His master solempne in his wordes:
that makes him seme so true:
Dauus in sight of all the world
doth as I sayd before.
Simo doth al that pryuilye,
much willing to do more

Simo is riche and rubbes it out:
for goulde hath this by kynde,
To louse or tye the tongues of men,
and to contente their mynde.
Simo maye be a goose, a sheepe,
a noddie, and a daw,
And haue not giftes, or qualities,
to counterpeyse a strawe:
Yet Parasytes will tearme him good,
and wyse, at all assayes.
I wisse, redde goulde can make a daulte,
a paragon of praise.
Yf Dauus do but talke amisse,
a cockescombe, or a bell:
Suche badges might beseeme oft tyme
the masters very well.
The royster weares not alwayplumes,
nor yet the deuill a tayle,
If euery foole did were a bell,
there would be iollye sayle.
Simo can laye to vsurie,
and yet by plea of sleighte,
He will persuade the thinge to be
a sinne of little weighte.
So drunckennesse, is belowship,
furye, is manhood foulde,
Fondnesse is francknesse, and scarcehead,
for thriftynesse, is houlde.
In fyne, no cryme, no vyce, no sinne
in Simo, muste vs knowne:
No faulte in Dauus but forthwith
with trumpet it is blowne.
Yea, Simo can cloke leacherie,
or clepe it, by suche name
That now it seemes, a neyghborhood,
a thinge of little blame.

Simo,
He slaundered me, (Dauus my man,
I am no leacher, I.)

Dauus
Nor I a theefe, though, I woulde steale,
and yet for feare passe by
A peece of plate, but this I say,
take punishement awaye:

Masters the more disolute for default of correction.

Nature woulde breake her bridle straighte
vnrulye without staye.
Canste thou be calde my gouernoure
which arte to vyces thrall,
To fansyes, pleasures, wrathe, and teene,
sythens, I shun them all?
If all the customes of oure courte,
woulde franchyse thee in libertie,
Thy feare of goodes would make the slaue,
and keepe the still in villanie.
Also an other argument:
if that your customes all,
A seruantes man, a substitute,
or fellewe seruaunte call,
What am I, in respect of you?
for thou haste rule on me,
A wretche, subiecte to thy luste,
as any wretche can be,
My master, to a sencelesse blocke
thats moued by others mighte,
Pufte vp with pleasures plungie puffe,
may be resembled ryghte.

Simo
Who then is free?

Da.
The wise that can
his owne affections stay,
Whom neyther neede, nor death, nor grefe
of massye gyues can fraye.

Who can be lorde vpon his lustes,
and hawghtie roumes dispise.
Stronge and sufficient in him selfe,
in full and perfitte wyse.

Nor passe vpon externall thinges,
commoditye, or gaine:
On whom fortune, his heuie frend
doth make assault in vaine.
Canst, thou not note, by these fewe things
who may be coumpted free?
Admit, an harlotte pickde thy purse,
and much abused the.
And calls the to her house againe
from yoke, and seruile snare,
If thou best free, ridde then thy selfe,
thou canst not quenche thy care:
In deede, a tyrant forceth the,
and broddes the forward still,
Doth twine thy chappes, & pricke the forthe
full sore against thy will

Appityde a tyrant.

When, thou dost gase on womans shape,
by Pausies hand portrayde
And I of other painters workes

Pausie a copayoter

my stedfast lookes haue laide?
(To marke the rankes, the warlike troups
in letter lymmed plaine:
And how thy stryke and how thy ward,
and how they take their bayne:)
Thou altogether womannishe
her portrature dost view

Sinne is seruevving effeminate pictures

Who sinneth more, or thou, or I?
speake soothe, and say me trew.
Dauus, is counted slacke, and slow,
if he do them suruey:
Simo doth loue antiquities,
and iudgeth well they say.
They count me naught, if that I doe
but make a little chere:
It is a vertue thought in the
to banket all the yere

Why is the pampring of the paunche,
so hurtful vnto me?
Because, my backe dothe beare the blowes,
if ought displeaseth the.
How dost not thou deserue the whip
that costlie cates doth bye,
And eates, and drinkes, and reuells still
Without all modestie?

One commoditie of gluttonie.

Dainties becum no dainty thinges,
where there is naught but cheare
Thy stackering stumpes, thy corsye corps
at lengthe wil hardly beare:
The seruant, if he steale but grapes,
is streight attachde of felonie:
My maister sells his landes for meate,
doth he not sinne in gluttonie?
A gaine thou art not with thy selfe,
thou neuer art at leasure,
Thou canst not rest, nor take a pause,
nor muse at thinges of pleasure.
Thou shunst, to reason with thy soule,
her counsaile thou dost hate,
Per consequens, thou shunnes thy selfe

A very harde thing to heare our faultes vvithout coller,

(ful like a runnagate)
Thou thinkes by slepe, and bibbing wine
to banish out all woe

Dauus
Thy conscience wil worke the teene
whersoeuer thou dost goe

Simo
Ah sirre, wher mighte I get a stafe?

Dauus
wherfore? Simo: or els a stone?
My maister maddes, or maketh rymes,
he museth so alone.

Simo:
Except thou wilt be trudginge hence,
and make no more delaies,
Thou shalt goe to my manoure place,
to worke thes nine long dayes.

University of Virginia Library

The seuenth Satyre. [of Horace]