The Chimneys Scuffle :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Chimneys Scuffle

[by Richard Brathwait]

Brathwait, Richard (1588?-1673)

[section]

THE CHIMNEYS SCUFFLE.

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Publica fumantes tetigere tributa Caminos,
Naribus audacis fastidios a plebis.

THE CHIMNEYS SCUFFLE.

“This is no Libel, such as Rogues disperse,
“But a poor Chimney-Plea in honest Verse.

Dear Mistress of the Muses, Polihymney,
Breath Spirit into th' Funnel of my Chimney,
That old Mull'd-Sack, who to such fortunes crept,

Who, chang'd his Name for a Sum of money conditionally paid him by his Fellow Chimney-Sweepers.

And from a Chimney to a Mannor lept,
May with our Steemy Consort joyn in One
Throbbing our Suff'rings in a Sooty room.

But whence comes this Complaint? Be pleas'd to hear;
More's laid upon out Hearths, than they can Bear.
Our Chimney-Sweepers may their Hovels keep,
For now the Owners must their Chimneys Sweep

To lessen their Scrude Tax.—Turn o're thy Book,
Search thy Records,

Lately created Keeper of the Tower-Records; but his Fanatick Brain and Fantastick Pen have run such Division, as they will unstrip him of that Imployment.

Cropt Prin, and shew why Smoak
Should thus be hoisted; where so many shar'd,
While Other Smoakers in our State be spar'd!

Th'like Smoaking Age did never yet appear,
'Tis thought we shall turn Ætna the next year:
We're all in Smoak and Powder: not a Stove
But must our Synods grand Designe improve.

Alas poor Chimney-pipes! Say, why should you
Be used thus, who stand but for a Show
In Great mens Kitchins; while your Lords at Court
Act for high Places, or some other Sport:
Presenting there their Pagentry so clear
As if they meant to make 't a Theater.
Their Tyre-rooms are alike: and it is common,
“Women act there with men, and men with women.
Their Tents remov'd: the Meniey must resort
By their Lords conduct to the modish Court,
Where his disbanded ancient Family
Becomes reduc'd to one bare Livery;
A Squirrel Lacky, or py-colour'd Page,
Which may secure his Honour from much wage;
His Vails will do it, or a cashier'd Suit
With some Appendices of Fancy to 't.

Batts now and Scrich-Owls may keep open house,
While their Lords sated with a Court-Carouse,
Display their loose debauch'ry: yet must they
For their Starv'd Smoakless Chimneys duely pay
This late enacted Tax: O precious Jewel
That pays the State for Fire-work without Fuel!
And this is just: for These get any day
More by one Suit than thousand Chimneys pay.
Whereas poor Tradesmen who live by their Booth,
Earning no more than serves from hand to mouth,
With all their Stock can scarce pay Scot and Lot,
Eating at night more than the day had got:

These must be Smoak'd too, though their Chimneys speak
“They knew not what Fire meant throughout the Week.

Is this a Parallel-line, or Salon's Law?
That those whose Fortunes are not worth a straw
Should be thus pounc'd to Mummie, and receive
No more Exemption than our Grandees have.

------ Cæsar I beg a boon, and it is this
That I may plead in Forma Pauperis
For these weak Starvelings, who make't their desire
“That their Estates may purchase first a Fire
“Ere they pay for their Chimneys; and that those
“Whose grandeur by our Suff'rings daily grows
“To such a boundless bottome, as in time
“Their daring height will threaten a decline,
“May feel Your Princely Lash; and these be many
“Who ought well to be smoak'd as much as any.

For they're such State-Impostors, as their Task
Is to disguise their actions with a Mask
Of Partial-guilt Conformity; and such
As like base Bulloign will not bide the touch,
Being all Coat-Cards, but of that vicious Crue,
Their Hearts are false for all their modish Shew.
And I must tell You from the zeal I bear
Unto that Sacred Diadem You wear,
That those Court-Burs who onely set their rest
On best-betrust or on Self-interest,
(For that's prime Game at Cards they daily use
For their advantage and Your high abuse,)
Can with a Spanish-Shrug complete their Ends,
And make the world beleive they're Cæsar's Friends;
“Ingratitude concludes them to be those
“Whom You reward the most be most Your Foes.

A Fashion to our Nation unknown though now dispers'd through City, Country, Town.

Be not these Courtly-Coy-ducks, whose repute
Swoln with ambition of a gaudy Suit,
Or some Outlandish gimp-thigh'd Pantaloun,
A garb since Adam's time was rarely known;

Strut all a-long to win the eyes of men,
Who, if discreet, with Scorn dis-value them;
All Sycamours for Shadow, nought for Fruit,
Vers'd only in a frivolous dispute
Or loose discourse of Hawk, or Hound, or Horse,
Or in pursuit of H, what's ten times worse.

These be those lazy fruitlesse Droans who thrive
By sucking Honey from Your Princely Hive,
What they ne're wrought nor duly labour'd for,
And these may rest securely on the Shore;
While Your endeered Zelots who have lost
Their Fortunes for Your sake are hourly crost
By adverse Winds: Long have these Starvelings bin
Waiting at th' Pool in hope to be tane in,
But some desertlesse Amorists of Fashion,
Though really the Refuse of our Nation,
Must be admitted to the highest place
Not by internal but external Grace.
'Tis only Gold-foil that performs the work,
Heav'ns blesse our Court from such a cursed Turk,
For though his partial Presence honour win,
He had no hand in bringing's Sov'raign in.

Awake Great Prince, intend your own Affairs,

Samplonis Capilli sunt Principis nervi; qui Pascivis amplexibus, impudicis amoribus debilitari solent, si non dirimi. Proc.

Let no light Dalilah rob You of Your hairs;
Those royal nerves should now imployed be
In Steering th' Rudder of Your Monarchie;
And smoaking those Ratouns who make't their aime
To raise their Fortunes though they split their Fame;
Nay, th' honour of our Nation; which is tride
Sufficiently at th' Game of Peep and Hide.
Our State's a constant Mask:—nor can we know
Their faces by their vizors; but they show
Best when they'r least discover'd: for what good
Can be deriv'd from Those corrupt their blood,
And mould base Heraldry, sprinkling a shame
Upon th' degenerate House, from whence they came?

All's out of Order; Marriage Beds begin
To take a Surfet and to rellish Sin.
Stoln Waters tast the sweetest; those Fruits too

Neither Fruits of their owne planting, nor Waters of their own draining, nor Soil of their own improving.

Which in their proper Soil did never grow,
But by a strange-inoculating hand
Seizing on that which th' Owner should command,
Solace their Palates most:—Actors oth' Stage
Spouse it the best with th' Peerage of this Age.
Yet th' Spousal holds not: a dispensive Power
Has made his Wife his constant Paramour:

Fortis amatoris sit Palma, Corone labotis, Quo Sponsus thalamum Servat honore Suum. Mancin.

And yet HE loves HER as he loves his Life,
And dearer too then if She were his Wife.

But that we may the sooner make an end,
Let us unto Your Offices descend,
Both great and num'rous in Your peaceful State,
And such as make our Officers too fat:
So swoln as they forget what they have bin,
With those brave Places they are seated in.
My Pen ne'r brook'd the Style of Parasite,
The World shall see I'll do each Office right.

And first to Those whom we account the prime,

Pastoral Office in the first place, because the highest prize: and purchas'd by Renewal of Leases at the lowest price.

Those Lawn-sleeves of our late reformed time,
Whose boundlesse height such Priviledges give
As if they trench'd on Your Prerogative.
For these are Smoakers too, give them their due,
When we our dormant Leases should renew;
Which might have been prevented in our Land
If You had kept those Leases in Your hand.
Which would have given those mounting Lords content,
And rais'd fit Pentions for Your indigent
Deserving Friends; who bravely stood their ground
When these Mandilions were not to be found.
Yet those insatiate Herds for all their store
Are in their thoughts as empty as before:
Though Diocesses be of large extent
To thirsty Lungs they're insufficient.

Baldam's Priests could cunningly devise
How to convey their Idol Sacrifice.
“This thirst deserves rebuke in Him that preaches,
“Cathedral Rabbies should be no Horse-leaches.
And some we have no Leprous gold will touch,
They're yet thin sown, may we have many such.

There's Smoak in Law too, having so much skill
As to drain Water from the Clients Mill.
The one as simple as the other wife,
“The Lawyer grinds and takes the Millers grife.
He'l finger your pretence be 't right or wrong,
“Though th' Cause be weak, fat Fees will make it strong.

Had these in Xerxes or Severus dayes
Sought to enlarge their Fame, or Fortunes raise,
They by Imperial Sentence had been Smoak'd,
And with Cold molted down their Throat been Chok'd:
For nought in reason could be held more fit,
Than those who sold base Smoak to fall by it:

Shall I draw near Your Court? it will aver
The ranting Courtier Smoaks the Cavalier;
Who though he never fought nor ever will,
He can prefer a Suit, and there's his skill.
Yet this Brisk Gig for all his garish show,

In the Court of Beasts (as the Apologue observes) the Elephant would not be admitted, because his knees were so unweldy, they would not bend.

Proves Smoaked by his Damasella too;
Who near the Lobby or the Back-Stairs waits
To squeeze her Pention from her Brothel Mates:
This brings revenues to the Surgeons Hall,
But Cheats and Courtly Cringes pay for all.

Those in our State he only held for Wisemen
Who are design'd Commissioners and Excisemen.
These be those Grand Impostors of our State,
And need not for preferment long to wait,
For they've already feather'd well their Nest,
And on Your Subjects ruine set their rest.
These to improve Your Rents, as they pretend,
Become Your Farmers, but observe the end

Of their Imployments! 'tis their only aim
To make a Booty of their Soveraign.
With modest boldnesse set me tell Your Grace,
That these have cheated You before Your Face,
In prizing th' rates of Customs to be such,
When th' Annual profit render'd thrice as much.
Now was not this Design persued well,
To take the Kernell and leave You the Shell?
Yet these be Farmers still: Persons of ease
Sharing in Your Revenues as they please:
Made to Cajole the State, but do no good
Unlesse it be to suck the Vital blood
Of Your endeered Subjects, who have serv'd
Both You and Yours; and better far deserv'd
Than these Cantarides who cleave to th' Skin
For the Rivulets of Blood that flow within:
But when their yawning Chaps have drunk up all,
High-swoln with Loyal blood, they're forc'd to fall.

These too like impudent Suiters lately wooe
To be the Farmers of our Chimneys too:
Which by their active undermining wit
They first contriv'd, by Votes committing it
To a Self-own'd Committee, whose Compact
Brought this Proposol to an expresse Act:
And though by Act prohibited it be
“No Member share in that Proprietie,
A trick is found out by their quick-silver'd Brain,
“A Dispensation for a future gain.

These raking Rocks when they're on profit Set;
Take all for Fish that comes into their Net.
And these Grandalions of Your own Retenue
Who would be thought to heighten Your Revenue:
And with more fullnesse of Content instore You
Than any Prince that ever Raign'd before You:
Just as that Rebel Parliament profess'd
To Your late Father in His Suff'rings bless'd.

Brave Plots; rich Profers! which like Flow'rs were strew'd
Not to refresh the Sense but to delude.

But was this done, my Gracious Liege, for You?
No, though at first sight it might make a shew,
As Painted Projects use, t' inhance Your Rents,
Their Subtile Sconces moulded worse intents
Than pur-blin'd Eyes discover'd; for they sought
Either by Farming what their Brokage wrought,
Or by their Agents to ingratiate
Your Smile for whom they did negotiate.

But such base baits You cannot rellish, sure,
“Those be Your Friends who make You most secure:
Whereas Court-Fawns, those Buffouns of our age
Practise a-long Your HONOUR to ingage;
Which Princes ever held the precioust Gem
That could enrich a Royal Diadem.
For what's this guilded State but painted Clay
If Spotlesse Reputation fall away?
May that live still unblemish'd, and remain
An Individual to my Sov'raign.

“Who spares to speak he is Your fawning Foe.
Satyrs who lay true tincture on a Crime,
Deserve more praise then Humorists oth' time.
'Tis Charity in Him that shews the way,
Or lends his Light to One who goes a stray.
“A Subject to his Prince is such a Debter,
“The Plainer that He writes, he loves him better.

Into Your Court such Favourites have rush'd,
Whose Coats being full of Moats had need be brush'd;
'Tis true indeed we have Comptrolors plenty,
But of that Rank there is not one of twenty
Dare execute that Office as he should,
Nor would He, I'm perswaded, if he could.
“The Weeds of others cannot well be mown
“By those who have so many of their own:

Their Studies are Lampounds; wherein their aime
States Court-abuses to the Penner's shame;
For there's not any witty Back-stair Wench
But reading jeers them for their want of Sense.

We talk of a strange thing call'd Reformation,
But where's that Creature to be found ith' Nation!
That Language is Utopian, none of ours,
And has been long time since shut out a-doors
As a regardlesse Alien:—Let us scan
And take our Circuit from man to man.
Phanatick, Libertine and Leveller,
Our rigid Presbyterian, who to err
Were held a Prodigy: let's see what peace
Or Reformation any one of these
Can hold forth to us!—but the other day
John Presbyter was to be pack'd away
With his Sedicious Spawn: but are they gone
As 'twas injoyn'd them, forty Miles from Town?
No, no, believe it this was a brute Thunder,
Their swelling Spirits are not so kept under;

Whose Arguments, though strongly seconded, in a late debate were evinced, and those Fiery Separatists deservingly silenced. Mean while their Conventicles and Clandestine Assemblies by their own Priviledge frequently continued.

For they're repriv'd, their Censure now blown o're
And re-estated where they were before:
And now restor'd, they vapour it afresh
As none might touch their Sanctified Flesh.
Those who supply their Places few draw near them,
And though they preach pure Doctrine none wil hear them.

Is this the way to Reformation, say,
When Shepherds who have taught their Flocks to stray
Must be indulg'd; and though they bring forth Leaves
But no Soul-saving fruit, yet must Lawn-sleeves
Though ne'r so Orthodoxal; be content
With a fraternal shrug to give consent
To these Church-Catilines, whose active pate
Works to reduce us to that forlorn State
Which our Anarchiall Government retain'd
While th' Syracusax Tyrant o're us raign'd!

Nor can I blame those Magpies if they give
Such freedome to these Zimreys to live;
High forts support the Lower: those who ne'r were
Friends to Church discipline nor the Lords Prayer
Be their GOOD LORDS: and These in such high Grace
As they'l cast dirt in any Bishops face;
So bravely rais'd they are, so Courtly strong
As they will do no right nor suffer wrong:
Nor is it strange that they their Faith dis-own
Who made their Breach of Faith before with Crown.

Witnesse those Hubbubs raised in severall Parochial Churches.

Grave Presbyterian Patrons, who display
Their Zeal by throwing Common Pray'r away
Doom'd to a diffrent Martyrdome, as of late
Was done in flat defiance to the State
And th' High Prerogative sole due to You,
As if we had no Native Cæsar now:
If this succeed, as 't has a fearful Shew,
A tragick Epilogue must needs ensue.

We hear of Coiners too, but they're so Great
As they may safely play the Counterfeit:
Men of such high descent and brave desert
Scorn to receive their Convoy from a Cart.
“The Sun has many Moats, yet who'l assay
“To take those radiant blemishes away?
They're glorious Soils: and Those are daring Fools
Who call in question either Art or Tools.
“I much commend those Coiners pollicy
“Who stand secur'd by their Society:
For they on such dependent Statists hing,
They're priviledg'd from Cap'ring in a string.

But to our Chimney-work! — This Enterview
Must Catechise us—“Sir, what Chimneys you;
“What Hearths, Stoves, Ovens? render us account,
“For we're Contractors, and must stand upon't:
“Do not deceive your self, return your number,
“For you're to suffer if you render under.

“The Lash oth' Act shall swinge you with such Strokes
“As never shall be cur'd by John an Oakes
“Nor those grave Coif-men, who for either side
“In our late Bickerings have their Judgements tried:
“And as they well deserv'd, now high advanc'd,
“So well it has unto those Neuters chanc'd;
“Who with such solemn Ceremonial State
“In funeral Robes on Bradshaw's Corps did wait:
“And as they drol'd in mournful Habits thither,
“It had been well they had been Earth'd together.

Small Coal, Small Coal.—Still, still that Croaking Cry;
I've stopp'd up all my Hearths; no Coals will I.
I will not Salamander-like desire
To make mine Habitation in the Fire:
These age-benummed Joynts I'll never warm
E're I pay more for Chimneys then my Farm.
Though hoary Winter now draw near at hand
I'll shew such due obedience to Command;
With Damocles I'd rather chuse to starve
Than lessen his Revenues whom I serve;
Yet let the State excuse me, for Blind Hugh
My Mason clos'd my Hearth before I knew.

Madnesse hath made me senselesse of all shame,
Within this Fortnight I from Bedlam came;
Where I my Crack-brain'd Amours did express
As Woers should; Tom to his lucky Bess.
And this contents me, though mad Boyes we be,
I've found a Court grown madder far than we.

My Brain is madling; I am now for Court
For no Suit-quest, I am not monied for't;
But to observe their posture; for we hear
What strange-divining Meteors rusle there.
State-Criticks now our Sprucer Sprigs be grown,
Ready to brush all garments but their own;
Those must be lightly touch'd, for they alledge
Their Acts pretend a Native priviledge:

An Apish-modish posture the only sweet courtly garb.

Sphear'd above Censure is their Regiment,
Apish or modish it is sufficient
So it be forraign, be it ne're so gay
Nor garish gaudy, it will find a way
To gain admirers: and with speed prepare
New Fashion-Mongers for a stranger aire:
Our Countrey Artists be such homely Creatures
As they mis-shape the Beauty of their features.
So it bear th' Title of Outlandish work,
'Twill give content though moulded by a Turk.
There's nought exact done by an English hand,
No dresse complete but from an other Land.
So is the World might think we start a quarrel
Both with our plunder'd Language and Apparrel.
Thus begger we our own; nor care we much
So we content our Selves: our humour's such.

Here may you see a light py colour'd Jack
Wear a whole Lordship on his crazy back;
Which his extorting Ancestor convey'd
To Him, who for his death entirely pray'd
That he might pawn his Acres; and ingage

A gallant Retinue, to travel out the fagend of a Prodigals Fortune.

His State to dawb his Lackey and his Page:
Resembling those to life who nestle here
Learning first to get Clothes, then how to wear,
(To th' Mercers Ruine) though a Venial Sin
To cheat a Book who meant to Cozen Him.
Turn over Leaf by Leaf ith' Drapers Book,
You'l find his long own Scores as light as Smoak.
Yet is he out of Debt I dare well say,
For He is said to owe who means to pay.

But being at last stake what shall he do?
He has no Brains ith' World to flye unto:
The only way then to evade this Shelf
Is to serve one no wiser than himself,
Some Lapland Lord, who having got no Heirs,
Makes his thoughts Strangers to all thriving Cares.

Now what Supplies accommodate the youth
Of these profusive Sparks, whose Fruitlesse growth
Has spent it self to atoms? They must look
To be Collectors of our Chimney Smoak,

A Cool Coal-Cordial for a Consumptive Prodigal.

And by their mis-accounting profit bring
Gain to themselves in Cheating of the King.
A bold adventure, yet an usual guize
As may appear by Farmers oth' Excize;
Which in one Instance I shall clearly shew,
Though not recorded yet approved true:
Th' Event so just it highly pleased me
Not in the Act but the Catastrophe.
“A Stirring Member of the Parliament
“Stor'd richly with all Blessings save Content,
“Became Exciseman; but before he found
“The Profit on't, his Patent fell to ground.
“I wish all Patentees may have sike hap,
“Who draine Revenues from the Ale-wifes Tap.
“O brave Design! Struck on a fatal Shelf,
“By his own Vote th' Exciseman splits himself.
“But how has this Exciseman born himself!

“How has this timing Bird beray'd his Nest!
“How has he run his Pinnace on a Shelf!

“How has he ruin'd those deserved best!
“Split th' Cavalry of their just interest!
“Was not this Act a Crime beyond compare
“I will not judge, but leave it to the Chaire!

“But these ambitious thoughts we have at Court
“Make hopes of Honour ramble in this sort.

THESE from their Countrey have such glory gain'd

Hear this Countrey Peal, ye Knights oth' Shire and Burgesses.

By ringing backward they are entertain'd.
This is my Maxim: they're not Cæsar's friends
Who mould their Votes and Acts for private Ends.
All such as lov'd their Prince have understood
That they did neither King nor Subject good.

“Those to their Soveraign ever prove unjust
“Who 'twixt Him and his People breed distrust.

And such, my Liege, or else we hear a Fable,
Receive admittance daily to Your Table,
Who to inlarge the Bounds of their Estate
Will hackney Honour out at any rate.
These be Court-Butterflies, who make a Show
Just as our Lordships Chimneys use to do
In cheating Beggars, making their repaire
But find no Warmth nor Crum of Comfort there.
Discretion will not measure true desert
By Apish postures or Outlandish Art.
He only merits the esteem of Greætnesse
Who Suits his dresse without affected neatnesse.

Your Highnesse sways three Scepters independing
From Elders numberless by line descending;
Let no Act derogate from that descent
Through hostile force or Subjects discontent.

Clear that Augæan Stable; Let no stain
Darken the Splendor of our Charlemain,
Nor his Court-gate: May th' Ladies of this time
Be Æmulators of our Katharine
Late come, long wish'd: whose Princely fame shall be
A living Annal to Posteritie.
To whose pure judgement, then which none more strong
Being Stranger to the World and so Young
Nought can detract more from a knowing Nation
Then making a meer Idol of a Fashion;
Or in resemblance unto

A Princesse in Habit & Diet unexemplarily temperate.—Speculum sibi fingit Asellus Flumine, quo speciem complicet ille suam. Farn.

Isis Asse
To sacrifice the Morning to their Glasse:
Such atoms of lost honour SHE esteems
For wandring Fancies or Phanatick Dreams:
“This Royal Pattern may, no doubt, re-gain
Our Albyon Halcyon days and Saturns-Raign.

The World's new-moulded:—SHE who t'other day
Could Chant and Chirp like any Bird in May,

Stor'd with Caresses of the Choicest sort
That Art could purchase from a Forreign Court,
Limn'd so by Natures Pencil, as no part
But gave a wound, where e'r it found an heart.
“A Fortresse and Main-Castle of Defence
“Secur'd from all Assailants saving Sence.
—But SHE's a Convert and a Mirrour now
Both in her Carriage and Profession too;
Divorc'd from strange Embraces: as my Pen
May justly style Her Englands Magdalen.
Wherein She's to be held of more esteem
In being fam'd a Convert of the Queen.
And from relapse that She secur'd might be,
SHE wisely daigns to keep her Companie

But forasmuch as noisome weeds are found
In no Soil more than in our Holy Ground;
And Darknesse sometimes takes the Robe of Light,
So as all is not clear that seemeth white;
Admonish those Lawn Sleeves they grow not proud,
But seasonably communicate pure food
To their deputed Flock: Your Grace has carv'd
Large parts for them, let not their Sheep be starv'd
For want of nourishment: I'd have them too
Not only stand like Beacons for a show;
Their Church-revenues as they be not small,
'Twere fit for th' Poor they built an Hospitall;
Which Almes-work so long as they delay,

We leave the injurious usage of one of these (a Formal Fox, and advanc'd to one of our highest Places) to the inpecunous Relation of Mr. Cressey, a modest deserving Gentleman.

Let their Revenues for our Chimneys pay.
At least, for Tenths as they precisely stand
For each tenth Chimney let them pay through th' Land.
Their Leases to that vast advantage rise
They may increase their Pride and Avarice.
The Poor should be their Children during life,
A Diocesan Care their Married Wife.
This would imbellish Miters and inlarge
Their Past'ral pains to edifie their Charge.

For th' Presbyter, because there cannot be
An Unity 'twixt Him and Monarchie,
For if th' Oue rise, the Other needs must fall,

Such Phlebotomists as practise wholly upon the Basilica Vena for a Stare-Cure are dangerous Artists: and fitter far for Jamaica than us.

Lest of those Sactists be there none at all,
Silence is not Sufficient: Such Division
Requires strict Exile for the best Physician.
Their Plots are all Phlebotomy, but Yours
By mild indulgence tender easier Cures.
No more; vouchsafe upon our Suit to look,
Our Hearths want Fires; and where's no Fire, no Smoak.

The COURT-CURRIER.

Our Country was of late with blood imbrew'd,
And in this Age as viciously indew'd,
Impoison'd with base Ingratitude,
Where th' Hydra-headed Slavish Multitude
Admires those only who have so much Sence,
As beg a Place with frontlesse impudence:
And by their activ'st Favourite, ready pence,
And without merit seek for recompence.
These be the thriving Boyes, who at this day
Are tane into the Pool while others stay.

The Honest CAVALIER.

Distinguish these by their Cognizances.

Many have here high hopes, but they expire
Before they mount to th' height of their desire.
They're only wise that have the least to do
Fixing on Him from whom all Graces flow.
Nothing so firm that may Affiance give,
“Let us only love where we may ever live.
So shall our hopes be crown'd, and Saints receive us
Into those Courtly joyes shall

Ne'er deceive in.

never leave us.
Some find the way who after learn to stray,
The End tries all, the Evening Crowns the Day.

FINIS.