University of Virginia Library

SATYRS.

SATYR 1.

Oh men! oh manners! what a medly's this
When each mans mind more than face diff'rent is?
For by forms only we distinguisht be
One from another: but! alas! to see!
We varie from our selves each day in mind,
Nor know we in our selvs our selvs to find.
Sure had Erasmus liv'd til now, he wu'd
Without an Oedipus ne'r have understood
The riddles of this dark phantastick age,
Where each Ape alters with the scæne the stage.
Had I thy razour Actius to dissect
These Gordian knotty humours men affect,
I'd sharp my pen, and after steep it all
In wormwood vinegar and Stygian gal.
Lend me thy whip Alecto! that I may
Scourge the prepost'rous times, as Boys at play
Do whip their eggshels! yet don't I wel know
Whether my anger they deserve or no,
But rather pittie; whether rather I
Should with scorn laugh at them, or for them crie.
Ev'n Heraclitus spleen would tickled be
To view Welch bobbie and Garlick eat, or see
A French grenovillio fricas with young mice
And mushroms mixt, or the low-dutch device
Of roasted sprats and Herrings, or th'Irish
Tough bonyclabber, or that German dish
Of pickled snails and tender Grashoppers,
Or the Jews Locusts with their Elder ears,
As much as see an Asse eat thistles; who
Would not admire that every Country so
Should vary phansies, and thus strangely affect
A nouvell diet with their Dialect?
But stomacks like our minds are sickly too,
Both are best pleas'd with quelquechoses vain so new.
So have I seen a travaild Squire discourse
On several sawces, spin out second course
With a picktooth in's mouth, and chafindish
To stew his raw roast fowl and codled fish,
Til we had lost our stomacks, and new got:
Learn'd in the art of eating was he not?
Yet this at home most galls my patience
To see so humorous a difference
Of more phantastick giddy minds that draw
Like Mules and Oxen each another way.
Here's one writes more than some good Scholars read,
And quoats more Authours than Pryn ever did,
Or in the whole world necessary be;
Whilst in one Tome a Vatican thus he
Erects; so have I seen a Pampleter
That rails 'gainst Bishops, make his margin far
Exceed his senceless Thesis, whilst he swels
His leaf with texts of Scripture little else,
And those false cited or as heterogene
And wide from's purpose as is Po from Seine.
Such swarmes of scribled Rapsodies begot
Ragmen to enrich, Typographers, and not
The Understanding; since they more distract
Each weakned judgement, wu'd they were by Act
Condemn'd to flames! Learning is more profound
When in few solid Authours 'tmay be found.
A few good books disgested wel do feed
The mind, much cloys or doth ill humours breed.
Seempol sets down in his Ephemeris
The trifles of each how'rs vain exercise,
Toys that should be Ephemera indeed
Dying the same day they were born and bred.
Things of so smal concern or moment, who
Would stuffe his Diarie with, or care to know?
As what he wore, thought, laugh't at, where he walkt,
When farted, where he pist, with whom he talkt.
Memento's more ridiculous than those
The City Chronicler made at Lord Mayors shows;
As who his Hinchboys were, who wav'd the sword,
Who brought the Custard to his Honours boord,
What year a Lyon whelpt i'th' Tower dy'd,
Pepper or corn was dear, whose child bestride
Each gilt Colossus Pageant in Cheapside,
Or in what year Bartholomie Fair forbid.
(Whereas Historians only things of weight,
Results of Persons or affairs of State,
Briefely with truth, and cleerness should relate)
Laconick shortness memorie feeds. I hate
A long spun story of one drawn toth' stake
Would reach from Newgate to Smithfield, and make
The martyr'd reader sweat as much or more
Than Latimer i'th' flames, with a bald score
Of phars'd (Quoth he's) in every page at least;
As without them 'twere not to be exprest.
But Dulman barren of invention, wears
His time and books in reading only. Here's
Squire Topas spends his daies in killing flies,
And like Domitian such a drone he dies.
Rare was th'Italians Art, who writ so smal
Three pence hid Pater Noster, Creed and all;
And made our Charls but half way drawn to shine
With most Majestick Holyness when each line
Of th'admir'd purtraict breath'd such heav'nly flames,
That the smal piece spoke all the Reading Psalms,
Without a magnifying glass what eie
Could yet discern the letter'd Physnomie?
Oh most laborious losse of time! So rare
Callicrates his Ivorie Emmets were,
With's Elegiack verses writ so smal
That a Hart cherrystone contein'd them all;
As Homers Iliads in a nutshel were;
Th'whole world describ'd in a young Orenge sphere.
Archytas wooden dove Agellius nam'd,
Or that same wooden Eagle

Bartas les jour. 1. semain.

Bartas fam'd,
Or th'Iron flie his Salust mentions,
Regiomontanus his Inventions:
Ælians rig'd ship or his τεθριππα made
So little that they each might be convey'd
Under a Bees smal wing unseen, what are
They all but witty trifles? sans compare
Industrious follies? who would loose so much
Dear precious time to be accounted such
A precious indefatigable Asse?
Pantagons art sure no lesse subtile was
Who muzzled fleas and gold chains made to lead
Them captiv'd in. But oh my sides and head
Would ake with laughter, should I muster all
Such vain Sysiphian toils. Yet must I cal
To mind Belanch, who as ill spent his time
I'th' mysterie of moustraps and birdlime.
These fond ()ταοτεκνιαν labours were
By Alexander witt'ly scoffed, where
To one who on a needles point each time
Could throw a pea, he gave a peck of them.
Our time was lentus to be employd in high
And nobler Projects, not thus fruitleslie.
Yet better tis thus to mispend it stil,
Than nought to do, or what is worser, il.
Wel then!—
Since each mans humour is his minds delight,
Let him persu't! mine is to laugh at it.

SATYR 2.

Hel and damnation! what Imposture's this?
A She white linnen Saint without, yet is
Incarnate Devil: i'st not that same Fiend
Was found besieg'd by her Apostle friend
In Antlin's porch the other morn? before
The Sexton rose they 'ad knocking forc't the door,
Had not the grave disturber of dead bones
And bels, there stumbled o'r them both at once.
Out you unhallow'd whore! is this the way
To enter heav'n at thy streight gate I pray?
D'you sanctifie your Cuckold dormant? must
Your mother Church be bawd to goatish lust?
Yet goes she in and sitting prays and hears
With as observing eies, attentive ears
The Lecture, as the holiest Matron there:
As though her cleanstarcht handkerchieve was ne'r
With close embraces rumpled. Oh what front
Of impudence that sex can put upon't!
As shee'd suck in nothing that day but grace,
Mark how she eies the Preacher in the face!
Able to stare suspicion thence! as I
Have seen hoarse ranting Gape with stedfast eie,
Boldly out-face a petty lurie, when
The Iudge was after dinner sleeping. Then
She having glean'd in her spruce table book
Such crums of comfort as the Caiaphas took
First upon trust, with the next Sisterhood
'Mongst marrow bones and other lustie food,
She scatters them for breakfast, where must be
The moyling Priest (for 'tis not fit that he
Should spend his lungs, oyl, labour too in vain:)
Great pleasures justly do attend great pain.
Their bellies fill'd like windstuft bagpipes, so
Their squeaking Organs must be going too:
Such strange disputes here controverted be
Would puzzle a Scotch-lay-Presbyterie.
Whether that Bigamie been't as lawful now
As 'twas 'tofore? Speak Sister Ruth! we know
You have two husbands now, besides that one
Who next stands fairly in election.
Truly and verily, I professe you may,
How should the Church be built up else, I pray?
Her doctrine Hannah did approve, and doubt
Whether not in the Church as wel as out
Women might speak? the Priest resolv'd they should
Speak out as much and often as they would,
But never in. A Female Synod is
Resolv'd on to convene: the way was this;
Each truth-inspired She forthwith to meet
Either in Marklane or near Criplegate,
In Eutichus the Taylours chamber, there
Each Monday 'bout Religion to conferre.
Th'Assembly meets and sits: a pretty sight
Fair smooth chin'd Gospellers in aprons white:
Cathedral lawn not half so learned is.
No Prolocutour here was made, I wis:
They were all speakers. First grave Abigail
The Sempstresse having first pronounc'd them all
A holy Convent: damned in one word
Arminians with their books to fire and sword.
Such Tyrants women are: when they in stead
Of distaffs scepters take, they'l rule their head.
Peace! Peace! said busie Martha, we not know
Nor the She-Burgers in Geneva how
These Schollards tenets to confute: let's talk
Of things we better understand, and balk
Their Heathnish Problems! I had rather know
Whether the world in ninty seav'n or no,
(As Hoord affirms) shal be dissolv'd? for this
More fit and to be known more easie is.
My husband's now about some land to buy
And I'd not have him throw't away said she;
By no means let him do't, said Sarah, no:
But rather in Reversion let him 'stow
His money at that fatal period, when
The world for certein must dissolve, for then
Th'earth for a thousand years shal leased be
To us the Saints for little, saied She.
To quit this was a learned Quære made,
By a thin antiquated Chambermaid,
Run mad with reading Dod and Broughton, where
She scruples whether Aarons Ephod were
Of the skie colour of seawater green;
The dyers all of Amsterdam have been
Long in dispute about the question.
Next the point of Prædestination
Was startled to perplex the more: in haste
From this to Freewil these Heav'n drivers past,
And Squirrel-like as nimbly leapt from this
As o'r one bog to another wild Irish:
Like th'dogs that lapt at Nilus seav'nfold stream
They lick the flouds now they have troubled them;
Or as young Scepticks in Philosophie
From Air to Water, Fire to Earth wil flie,
Peripateticks in Divinitie
O'r all its Elements thus they likewise hie,
As nimbly with their tongues, as standing stil
O'r th'world a man in a map travel wil,
With's eie in one short minute, yet not know
Where the Moguls rich country stands, or how
His own is rul'd. In every doubt at last
All unresolv'd each to their homes do haste,
With their boss'd Bibles truss'd beneath their arms,
Thumb'd in the Revelation and the Psalms.
Bodie O death! who should they meet at door
But Grace the waitingmaid that saltchin'd whore?
Who before shethe Pædagogue had wed
Took all preventives, and when e'r she sped
Toucht Sowbread, Gladdon us'd, and Savin, food
To slink her spurious and abortive brood,
Procur'd for her dear Madams daughters, taught
Them to leap oft, soon as their wombs were fraught:
Yet with her cloak as holy face now wears
Where little hair much Sanctitie appears.
Lord! how she sighs in direful accents, that
Private affairs had made her come so late!
What matter ist? How d'ee; her quondam friend
Her Ladies gentle Go-before doth find
Her there, renews acquaintance, and thence brings
Her to his Laundresse private house and flings
Her down on the refreshing mat: the bed
Being ta'ne away and nothing but the sted
There left to hold the sport up, since the poor
Old Bawd her bedcloaths found too fast were wore.
Each met their comforters before they went
To their tup Cuckolds: so the day was spent.
But I am no Sir Pandarus of Troy,
To sent each City stop or close dequoy:
I am no Pimp or Constable; if more
Sinners you'd find, search Bridewel! there be store,
Who though they been't all sanctifi'd alike,
Yet are as right for the cause Catholick.

SATYR 3.

Man is a laughing Creature, who in this,
And a soul rational distinguisht is
From brutish beasts: yet even they not have
Like use of Reason seem they wise or grave.
Follies in them pitty or laughter move
In men of wiser judgement: to reprove
Whose open Errours with as publike smiles
Is best: for silent pitty but beguiles
And hardens follie by connivance; we
By precept and example taught must be.
Yet both are scarce enough to instruct or wean
Some from the Simples which they first suckt in
With their flit nurses milk: for sure it is
Midwives and Nurses make men fools or wise.
Why should not Cosmus els that City heir,
Whose education was the onely care
Of his indulgent parents wiser prove?
For see how like a Puppet he doth move,
Or Quarter-striker turns upon his toe,
As in a frame when he saluteth you!
Good manners are not bought at th'Change or Schools:
Art's Nature servant; Fools wil stil be fools
Yet wasters could he manage for Pruans wel
At Islington on Sundayes, and to tel
You truth had learnt to dance, but that his ear
And he both so inapprehensive were.
But he is rich, hath fin'd for Sheriff twice,
And wears good cloathes; yet out of them, or his
Mean rabscab companie, looks like what he was
First born and bred, that is a precious Asse.
So there's a river in Boetia
Wherein the fishes shine like gold they say;
But taken thence look but as other frie.
The City seldome breeds Gentilitie
Til three or four discents. No Oake can be
Upon a Peartree graft so contrarie
And wide their Natures are. But see his friend
Whom he so often walks with to Mile-end,
The Fencer Peregrin that brags he can
Kil at Duello more than any man;
Has rules to print the flesh, as the Stoccata,
Passada, Punto, and the Imbroccata,
With more Italian postures; by a groom,
Yet was disarm'd, beat and kickt out o'th' room,
The other Morn at th'Trumpet: could not skil
Guard him from such a sawcie foot as wel?
Hang't, this is horse-play, saies he; oh the sence
Of discreet manhood valiant patience!
Thus men discover'd are by th'companie
They keep, and throughly known: els why wou'd he
Delight in Dabcok, that Town-gul, whose nose
And face are as ridiculous as cloathes?
Marrie to laugh at; that himself might bee
Thought wiser, though God knows, but one degree.
As ugly Ladies waiting faces get
More ugly them the better off to set.
Many o'th' City have such properties
To worship them, and with forc't laughter please.
For is't not brave to be the best i'th' room,
Pay all, have all respect, and after come
To be admir'd by Squndrels? Formal I
Am most incens'd with yet, whose gravity
Outweighs all other parts, his speech is cream
Starcht as his beard, takes his hat off by th'brim
Methodically 'twixt two fingers, while
His face of Essayes seldom deigns to smile;
Like one i'th' Isle of eggs he nicely walks,
Affects strange sawces, like a Sophister talks,
Respects none that wear worser cloathes than he,
And thinks himself the rare Academie;
More proud of's little wit, neat hose, than e'r
Incæptor was of's gown the first whole year,
Loves to be eied, yet looks nor drinks below
The salt, seems gravely wise, is nothing so.
How practis'd is this policie? for most men
Study more how to seem judicious, than
To be so, herein whilst their best wisdome lies
To hide their follies in Scholastick guise:
This is a fit companion, Cosmus wear
This Bristol Diamond in thy copper ear!
'Fore him, that young proud Statist I must hate,
Whose face is all Mosaick, intricate,
And ful of artificial gravitie,
Talks to himself where e'r he goes, with eie
By speculation downward fixt, though he
Looks higher than his foretop, hopes to be
O'th' Privie Councel: and wil whispring tel
News known as doubtful as an Oracle.
This is that other earwig crept into
Cosmus acquaintance, whom he graceth too;
Hee onely bids him welcome for his tongue,
With which he feeds him all the dinner long;
Lends what he asks, though he ne'r thanks him for't,
And hardly owns him when he comes to Court.
Yet oft his wife he visits, swears by Jove
He'l place her at next Mask neer or above
The Maids of Honour, tels her too he'l get
Her Husband Knighted; thus his debts hee'l quit
While Cos. buyes honour. Oh what Emphasis
And weight his words bear while 'mongst men he is!
Each line he speaks looks like a Pyramis,
On whose three sides one undiscover'd is.
His Janus Hieroglyphick double front
Speaks him an Oedipus: oh out upon't!
The Guelphs and Gibellines not so factious were,
As the confused thoughts and projects here
In's Machiavellian noddle; now he dreams
Waking of Crowns and Kingdoms, Stratagems
To subvert Mahomet, or for private gain
Patents for Pins or Soape, or els his brain
Sweats with Monopolies of bones, or tough
Calves-skins wel drest to sel for Irish Buff.
Passant he deign'd me once a nod and smile,
To be but known to these Court earwigs, I'l
Be sworn is ev'n as great a grace or mo
Than had I kist his Holinesses toe.
His Cæsar Hawks-nose his ambition shows,
While thus like Niles tal Crocodile he grows
As long as e'r he lives: he'l surely sup
With one o'th' Secretaries o'th' State, and up
With some great Lord, or other at each word,
To gain the audience of all the board,
Whom he names as familiarly, as he
Were his Compeer, and not his propertie.
His foot-boy comes and whispers him in haste:
The news? I'm set, so soon as supper's past,
Go tel my Lord I'l wait on him. How now?
A sweating Porter bring a Letter too?
Directed to th'most accomplisht Gentleman?
Oh it's from the Lady—he replies, the hand
I know, and business: wel he might, he wrote
The letter all himself, a pretty plot.
E'r he goes thence a prentice with a noat
Seal'd from his Creditour finds him, he opes it not,
But loudly tels the youth his Masters suit
To morrow shal be granted, that he'l do't,
Bids him be confident. Emploi'd he is
In every sceene thus with new business.

SATYR 4.

Go search Niles deeps, and find me if you can,
A thing so ugly as this monster man!
I mean that lean-chopt fellow, whose white face
And night-cap make him look like th'Ace
Of Spades, so formal is his pickdevant,
While hee so meagre looketh, and as wan
As Adam 'gainst the hedge in clay, when he
Was set a drying fore the Sun, to be
Inspir'd with breath: no Ananias e'r
Painted on Countrie tapistrie could appear
So Ghostly or precise; as he had fed
On roots alone, for those he studied,
As Hebrew with a Chaldee paraphrase,
Or Syriack, while the Greek and Latine was
Prophane and modern language counted: but
Behold his clean-starcht ruff o'th' holy cut
And pure Geneva set! whose every one
With the bright steel of Revelation
Was throughly open'd: but to say no more,
Most pure he was from head to foot all o'r:
I could have wisht this Hypocrite had bin
But half so pure, and so sincere within.
Such hollow falshood in a Prophet guide,
Confirms the errours of the world beside.
Did he not roundly pay for's Benefice
By symoniack contract e'r 'twas his?
Did he not wed his Patrons niece? some say
Hee sprung her mine too e'r the marriage day:
And puts her portion now to usurie.
But oh! what an egregious dunce is he?
And when ordain'd examining did fear
More than a young thief caught, and made appear
Before a Justice for his first offence:
But his preventive wit and impudence
Wrought wel with th'Bishops Chaplain I believe,
Whom he had fed on Ordination Eve
To say as th'Ordinary to th'Judge is wont,
Legit ut clericus, my Lord: though he don't
One letter know. 'Tis usual this: while so
By such cheats knaves and fools get livings too.
But oh! how drunk for joy hee got that night
I'th' Bishops sellar! now the thankful wight
Having his fees discharg'd goes home, looks worse
Austere and graver than his Lordships horse;
Wrangles and sues his neighbours, keeps no house
Of hospitalitie, nor gives one sous
Throughout the year to th'poor. Gripe comes to be
Resolv'd a case of conscience, if Usurie
Of ten i'th' hundred may be lawful ta'n?
Yes, yes: your talent must not up be lain
But to the most improved. Hear you me!
The tithe of all your coines encrease must be
Paid mee your Parson! Nay, then Gripe replies,
I'l rather let't at nine per cent. as is
My usual course: my sows shal farrow too
No more than nine at a time: I wil go
Sel all my land, and stock, and into gold
Convert it for encrease; all shal be sold
Before I'l give one doight away: the King
Sha'nt have a subsidie, the poor nothing
For mee. Thus Gripe is now a Chymist grown,
What he should eat, drink, wear the miching hound
Turns into metal, whose each new Image
He sacrificing doth adore: no Age
E'r such a muckworm bred: he never wil
Marry; children are charges, Women il.
Hee buyes bread, pares it, sends it back again
For staler, for which cause the Baker's lain
I'th' Pillorie: he ne'r at home wil eat;
But at anothers board until he sweat
Again, he swils like any thresher, and
Communion wine he drinks til's neighbours stand
Amaz'd, and think as if in stead of's own
Hee drinking were his Saviour's health around.
Hee won't part with a hair, and for that cause
No Shaver neer him comes; and hates the Lawes
'Cause they forbid ingrossing: and is dumb
When Cosk wou'd borrow; nay shou'd Christ once come
On Earth again, the Wretch would not lend him
One tester, wer't the whole world to redeem
Without securitie of Angels. The Jew
So circumcis'd his silver he was brought
Before the Judge to answer for his fault.
Hold up thy lean hand Gripe! Guiltie or not?
Not guiltie my good Lord: the Jurie that
Shal trie. These clippings all I found
In's trunk. 'Twas but to make the money round,
Gripe pleads, which first the coyners did neglect;
Onely Rix dollars which I did elect
'Cause they were too square, and broad, for that respect.
Hence take him Jaylour! oh the sad effect
Of covetizing! Can't I ransom'd be?
Take all my goods! save but my life and me.
No: sentence is past: how the hangman swears
And curses 'cause no better cloathes he wears.