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The Poore Mans passions

And Pouerties Patience. Written By Arthur Warren

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The poore Mans passions.
 



The poore Mans passions.

Tragicall Hart, inuectiue tearmes collect,
Perturbe the passion of the worldly minde,
Deluding Obiects of Content reiect,
Counterfeit pleasures in a bundell binde,
And ouer-whelme them midst the Oceans waue,
Or them interre in some Cymmerian caue.
Resigne possession of regardlesse Toyes,
That hoodwinke thee in downefalles of distresse,
Though in apparance superficiall ioyes,
Yet tryed proue but Counterpanes of blesse:
Ile not bestowe perusing on that lease,
Whose expir'd Date doth at the sealing cease.
I Caitife, Cressus Royaltie disclayme,
Discarding golden Crassus choisest store,
With Enuies darts at Epicures I ayme,
And Diues Sumptuousnes I disadore;
For tell the Porter of the proudest state,
I scorne to knock at the securest gate.


Yet lowest Fortunes crosse my loftly minde,
And apprentize my thoughts to seruile lawe,
VVhich Nature to her Pupils ne'er assig'nde,
And all to curbe my grand Conceipts in awe;
Such as lawlesse Necessities impose,
To gall the shoulder that this yoke would lose.
I liue, yet loth to lead this lothsome life,
I breath, yet doe suspire with painfull breath,
I stirre, yet storme to manage tedious strife,
And I shall die vntested in my death,
Doubting least mine Executors refuse
The statute of my Testament to vse.
vvhile Crosse and Losse doe countermand desire,
vvhile will with want conioines a Combatine,
As powerfull to set the Seas on fire,
Making the most gainst Patience to repine,
That ill Successe in worlds vnhappie state,
Makes haplesse man much more vnfortunate.
To controuerse with mine Aduersity,
Is but with vnarm'd Brest to pierce a sword;
And so Philautus shall doe iniury
Vnto himselfe, by his selfe-wild discord:
And yet these Oppositions who can brooke,
That with one eye, or halfe a face doth looke?


Can Flesh and Bloud, that loues to braue the best,
Pocket these wrongs and bury such abuse?
And can Humanity these pilles digest,
Or like Melancholists get some Recluse,
To make their Orizons in Saturnes eare,
That sitting dumbe doth mute petisions heare?
A man's a man, though he haue but a face,
A beardlesse face the world for to controle,
But I in cloke depriud of gard and lace,
Poore patches for my fortunes must inrole,
To signifie vnto the Earth, what lot,
The Lack-lands of our lower House haue got.
To monarchize a wretches woofull state,
Importeth prowesse, though but little power,
Once to commaund the world seemes fortunate,
Though but a VVorld conceipted for an houre,
Indigents may abound though but in dreames,
Fortune Flowes not to all in Fauours streames.
Demi-god Argent, and the Siluer Saint
Passengers in their trauell must protect,
And with the Tauerner their needes acquaint,
The Pennilesse no choise of Innes elect;
Hunger and Thirst needes must we wars proclaime,
And try the Combat, though we take the maime.


Phisitian Gold doth fortifie the lame,
VVith Argus eyes illuminates the darke,
Skilleth to shrowd Sinners apparant shame,
In ships of Siluer safe we may imbarke,
To cut the Seas, and crosse by eu'ry coast,
In peace to take all Harbours for our hoast.
In vaine the Monylesse their mones confesse,
In vaine the wealthlesse doe their wants repeat,
In vaine the wretches warble their distresse,
In vaine the miserable doe intreat,
For helping hands the Needy to relieue,
Or mercies minds their much and good to giue.
To sue, sollicite, begge, beseech, intreate,
To smooth, sooth, flatter, and doe what thou skillest,
To malice, menace, mischiefe, storme, and threat,
But VVorlds vacuity with ayre thou fillest:
Requests nought feed the siluer-sucking minde,
No Penny doth no Pater Noster finde.
Loue liues by losse, Don Lucre all commaunds,
Pittifull Complaints, dolefull passions Sound,
But are not tuned by relieuing hands,
VVhile miseries are weakest Motiues found;
Sonne dutifies father, father loues Sonne,
And all is for Consideration done.


O would I could by vertues of my voyce,
The Beggar from my presence but exile,
And on professions execute my Choise,
Or to desires my fortunes reconcile,
Then farewell whip, a sop hard to digest,
And Pill'ry, where men take but Pinch-eares rest.
I would not feare Freedome of Borrough townes,
Nor strictest Restraints of immured wales,
Nor seuere presence of Officious gownes,
Which with Commaunds commend vs to their hales,
To answere all Obiects with cappe and knee,
And Abiects all the while reputed bee.
Vppon our Doome the dull'st will whet his braine,
If Fortunes Flower but beginne to fade;
The rau'nous Cormorants will vs constraine
A Common top for scourges to be made,
Lamigers creepe to set on foote our harme,
The Blind to view our woes about vs swarme.
Poorelings but Caterpillers they account,
Their proffits destinated to deuoure,
That Seas of sorrowes shall our Soules surmount,
VVhile Pride gainst Poore doth flouds of malice poure,
Adiudging vs but Burthens of the Earth,
And Canker-wormes increasing Countries dearth.


Beares Armes gainst Peace, besieging our Contents,
Muster the troupes of controuersing minds,
And of our Martyrdomes make monuments,
Testifie their degenerating kinds,
Vnnaturallizing peruersest harts,
To scandallize our lawdable Desarts.
New-gate, the worst gate, they protest too good,
Coldly to entertaine such goldlesse guests,
These Cowards durst exhaust a Beggers blood,
And tyrannize in hindring our requests;
Our serious expectations crosse with toyes,
Plant obstacles to intercept our ioyes.
Helpe Heauens, poore Harts poorer plaints may poure
To earelesse shores, and to relentlesse rocks,
Man is mans Woolfe, for man would man deuoure,
vvhile Brother from Brother compassion locks,
Yet Trees him shade midst Sol-in-leos heate,
Beasts minister him foode to be his meate.
The Christall fountaines quench the thirst of man,
The Dogges vse dalliance, and on him attend,
The Oxe drawes, and the Asse doth what he can,
The flocks with fleeces him from cold defend,
Yet goes it gainst the hayre with him to spare,
The solace, which might cure his Brothers care.


Vnreasonable Creatures can him show,
And sencelesse things in silence can bewray
Duty, which to his Neighbours he doth owe,
Though deafe, blind, and hard-harted thus he stray,
And hath such Mydas eares, as will not heare,
Though thence his Error to the world appeare.
Man without many helps can hardly liue,
Although his fields of acres know none end,
Yet doth it worse then cut his throat to giue,
To Impotents, to Indigents to lend:
Fondling, forget'st thou how thou borrow'st still
That hard'nest thus thine Adamantine will?
Diggers, and Dikers, Drudges, Carters, Swaines,
Sheepheards, and Cowards, friend thee at thy neede,
The poorest persons worke thy richest gaines,
Thy Dropsie with Commodities to feede,
Coblers, and Curriers, Tinkers, Tanners all
Support thy state, else would thy fortresse fall.
It's worke tyme-worthy to obserue the wayes
Of Worldlings, how prepost'rously they liue,
That will not helpe, yet want helps all their dayes,
That without gifts liue not, yet will not giue.
O brazen fronts, ô iron-metled harts,
Whose quiuers surfet with discourteous darts.


And all's to royallize their Progeny,
And eternize their Names in Mammons bookes,
Register their time-eaten Dignity,
Catch the Circumferrence in golden hookes,
Make Ignorance subscribe vnto their will,
Perswade the Blind, the valley is a hill.
Summon a Parliament, which may haue power
To contradict rulelesse Necessity,
Endowe Needs Daughter with conuenient Dower,
To extirpate the roots of misery,
And ruinate the edifice of wants,
In Pleasures plots to set Contentments plants.
Beggery men contemptible doth make,
Rags with Robes assume no Society,
Irus with Cressus neuer hands did shake,
Tokens of Vnion to testifie:
The Patch with Purple nere acquaintance tooke,
Nor Siluerlesse suits with the Lawiers booke.
The widowe VVant soiournes at low-streets end,
VVhile Monsier Mony purchaseth a place,
His Consistory midst the towne to spend,
Mongst Magistrates, Monarchs of greatest grace;
VVhile to the Rich the world a Lorship giues,
Pouerty alwaies vndertenant liues.


O rich VVorlds Darling, bigge thou dost abound
VVith treasures, pleasures, health, wealth, liberty,
Harts ease and thoughts wish at a winke are found
Thy mutable Humours to satisfie,
All ioyes desir'd attend thee at a beck,
As though thou didst both fate and fortune check.
Little thou carest what cares I indure,
And lesse thou feel'st what force I suffer must,
My dolours can no rest from ruth procure,
VVhile as thou list thou canst agglut thy lust,
Flowing in Oceans of profoundest wealth,
VVhile wretch I want helpes to support my health,
My Palate dry, my lips seeme parch'd with thirst,
Belly thinkes throat cut through the lack of meate,
Yet Seconds striue not who shall be the first,
To minister meanes what to drinke or eate,
Small scraping mundifies my trenchers cleane,
I neede no Dyet to conserue me leane.
Phisicke farewell, thou neuer shalt take cure,
Gainst surfetting to practise remedy,
If seldome meale may make complexion pure,
Fairensse my formall face shall beautifie,
Make me Pigmalions pictures counterfaite,
VVhile staruing stomacke for a crum doth waite.


VVhen Thirst like Aetna'es heat doth cause me craue,
Some slender potion Appetite to drowne,
And begging I sweet liquid cannot haue,
The Butler with his bowle so blacke doth frowne;
Then runne I to a Riuer, ô faire Brooke,
How comfortable doth thy current looke:
There I in all Humility prostrate,
Bow'd on bare knees, and empty belly laide,
Sue for a suppe at kind Banks mercy-gate,
Where of the water I am not denaide;
Twixt lip and liuer, water wine is made,
To flourish life, which did commence to fade.
Thus solaced incontinent I rise,
Bowing in token of my thankfull hart,
VVith best Cursey, that Duty can deuise,
To gratifie the Runnets kind desart:
A way I walke after this humble greete,
As though I quaffed had the Nectar sweete.
VVhen wooluish Hunger on my stomack gnawes,
Inuocates Custome Victu'alls to prouide,
Teeth ruminating on their empty iawes,
As if they durst no longer dull abide,
Sith Appetite precepteth them to dresse
For dying Nature some reuiuing messe.


Then I importune, and sollicite Cooke,
For one cold cut I tender him my loue,
VVith hollow eyes and fleshlesse cheekes I looke,
To pitty so the pittilesse to mooue:
VVith Egle wings he flies to lock the dore,
Is not at leasure to reliue the poore.
Thus doe these iron hands Compassion shut
From soules surcharg'd with sorrow through their neede,
vvho neuer helpes vnto the helplesse put,
Nor spare superfluous things our wants to feede,
vvhich swell with fat, surfeit with dainty fare,
Vnmindfull of their needy Neighbours care.
The Belly-god with gourmandizing full
Excludeth empty Appetite from minde,
Bibbers beere-swollen eyes with quaffing dull,
Thinke they can no where any thirsting find,
Gluttons in Lethe lake drowne Penury,
Drunkards imagine no throat to be dry.
Midst this perplexity I make my mone
To God, to man, man not regarding God,
I sigh in sorrow, and in griefe I grone,
Scourged with Persecutions piercing rod,
O it's a Hell on earth all to indure,
VVhich dayly men to mischiefe men procure.


Nature, that first gaue life, decreed a lawe,
That Mortalls Earths-fruites should in Common hold,
When Tymes Corruption priuate profit saw,
Things gratis giuen must be bought and sold,
And then Diuision striued for a store,
To marre what golden Age had made before.
This seeing I all Adams sonnes forsake,
Ominous seeming in their odious sight,
And to my Meditations me betake,
To seeke the Cause, why they denie me right:
Such Difference I find twixt store and dearth,
That Rich count Beggers Bastards of the Earth.
Because we are not elder Brethren borne,
Apparant Heyres to earthly Heritage,
Hence hautie VVorlds Inheritors vs scorne,
As not begot in lawfull Marriage,
The harme is ours, the iniury was theirs,
To take all, ere we borne were to be Heires.
These monster-natur'd People I forsweare,
And to mismembred Syluane Satyres goe,
Pouring my plaints into their brutish eare,
So making them familiar with my woe;
I warble forth a vvretches dolefull cryes,
To proue what pitty in their bowels lyes.


These lodge a better Bounty in their Brest,
These Heathen harbour more Humanitie,
One may in surer safety with them rest,
Than with his Brethren full of Tyrannie,
They will conduct you to their mossy caue,
VVhere part of their prouision you may haue.
This moou'd the prudent Hermits to forsake
Country, Acquaintance, Parents, liuings, land,
And in the VVildernes a Cell to make,
vvhere they secur'd from iniuries might stand;
Though mosse, not downe they vsd in sted of bed,
And were with hips and hawes for Dainties fed.
It's Ease enough, whereas may lodge Content,
It's cheere enough, where Nature is suffis'd,
It's Right enough, whereas no wrong is ment,
It's loue enough, where no hate is deuis'd,
Better to liue alone in peace and rest,
Then mongst the multitude, and be opprest.
My sourged VVits doe waue with strange desires,
VVhen Melancholy doth these planets note,
My Soule to be a Soliuage requires,
Intreats Earths Center for some place remote,
There could I draw sweet and contented breath,
vvhere friends faigne not, nor foes pretend my death:


The Clifts, the Rocks, the steepy Roughes, and Dales,
The Mountaines, Promontories, Harbours, Plaines,
Inhabitable Islands, Creekes, and vales,
Estranged Continents, resortles Maines,
Groues, Desolations, and vntroden waies
My wandring steps with weary pace assaies.
Some vnfrequented woods I seeke to find,
Some vnknowne Desarts iourney I to see,
vvhat Solitarines hath there assign'de
For such, as her Inhabitants shall be,
The Earth I suruey for the secret'st field,
To proue what entertainement it may yeild.
I meet with Lynx, and with the Lyon fell,
vvith beastly Beares, Tygres of Hyrcanie,
Calidons Bore, like Cerberus in Hell,
That wrongs and wounds all Persons passing by,
The Basan Bulls, the Irish vvolues I see,
All which impose no violence on mee.
The Lynx, that is the clearest Beast of sight,
Seemeth to shed a showre of Christall teares,
The Lyon, Monarch for his matchlesse might,
Offers no force, to load my life with feares;
Tygres are tame, Bulls hurt me not with horne,
vvoolues are like Lambs by them I am not torne.


My misaduentures doe them all amaze,
Of mine Afflictions they remaine in awe,
On my mishaps, and my misfortunes gaze,
As though they so strange obiects neuer saw,
So forlorne-like I passe, so vile so base,
That they relent to view my ruthfull case.
Thus I with eyes of farre-discerning mind,
Home-ward conuert a distort Countenance,
In esperance acquaintance some to find,
vvhich might eye-witnes vnexpected chance,
Earths Cormorant, heere to thy scandall see
The mercy, which the mercilesse shew me.
Maske thy hard forehead, to obscure thy shame,
Viewing vnreasonable Creatures kind,
That sauage, wild, and brutish are by name,
And yet by Nature of a better mind,
Then thou, that dost thy selfe a monster make,
vvhile that a Beast doth mans Idea take.
Yet Genius hath framed thee a man,
Time and Experience ioynd assisting hand,
Arte hath perform'd, what knowledge practise can,
And all is but to number Ocean's sand,
It seemes Impossibility to bee,
To make a Metamorphosis of thee.


Thou wilt not alter, but from Haue to Hold,
From catch to keepe, from much to gather more,
From Cottages to farmes, from lead to gold,
From Competence into superfluous store,
Thy Nature nought to such but enuie yeilds,
As haue a meadow greener then thy fields.
VVhat i'st to begge, but to be counted base?
VVhat i'st to borrow, but to be denide?
When Poore are trespas'd, they learne Ploydons case,
And must for recompence content abide,
Yet giue the Rich but an vncourteous looke,
It prooues a forfeit by their statute booke.
It's wrong to them, if any pleasant liue:
It's paine to them, if any sit in ease:
It's griefe to them, if any one doe thriue:
It's death to them, if any them displease:
They doe prohibit that a horse should beare,
But golden him, that siluer spurs doth weare.
Degrading vs with contumelius spelles,
They touch, attach, and summon vs with shames,
To our discredit ring reprochfull bells,
And Catalogue vs with inhumane names,
Vagabonds, varlets, villaines, vassalls, slaues,
Rogues, Caterpillers, Runnagates, and knaues.


O Heauens, yee haue heard these wrongs and more,
Earth is eare-witnes of these iniuries,
Produc'd to punish, and depose the poore,
With more then sufferable villanies,
That mauger patience the oppressed cry,
And death it is, that wretches may not die.
Goods, Cattles, Fees, Lands, Tenaments, and gold,
Issues, Rents, Proffits, Fines, and Casualties,
Worlds Argonauts from ouer-whelming hold,
Midst Flouds, Rocks, Seas, and gulfes of miseries,
VVhile Poore her person with the path doth weare,
Bucephalus must Alexander beare.
For in wealth consists worlds Nobility,
Honour, Preferment, frindship, loue, and all,
Birth, Learning, Vertue, is but Beggery,
Least Hap it haue to find the golden ball:
VVho is the Lord, but he, that hath the luck;
VVho is the man, but he, that hath the muck?
If Asses thus to Honours height ascend,
Load but with siluer burthens, golden packs,
If Manhood thus on Moueables depend,
VVhich hauing this all other merits lacks,
Then Glory shall detaine Desarts reward,
And vertues will not Chiualrie regard.


Then mongst the Ladies may Achilles liue,
And hold a Distaffe, or turne Carpet Knight;
Vlisses may his minde to madnesse giue,
And plow the sands, and in his home delight,
To Cowardize the noblest Courage yeild,
Mars sit indignifide in Honours field:
Custome maintaine Antiquity in things,
Or chang'd, for better reformation wish,
Good Friday hath the Capon by the wings,
While Easter day is feasted but with fish,
Thē Poore midst Rich mens meale is forc'd to fast,
And still into the Sea is water cast.
VVho presents Pouerty with pin, or ought,
Pining in Penury, naked with neede?
Venson and Fatlings to the Rich, are brought,
Iewells and iems their eies delight to feede;
VVhether goe gifts, but to the wealthy hand?
VVho sit in Chaires, but they that best might stand?
All to the tune of Arsi-versie goes,
Cart drawes the Horse, them both the Diuell driues,
Mens publique friends conuert to priuate foes,
And these wounds most the harmelesse Patient griues,
The vvealthy best the vvanter succour might,
But they'll no wrong accept, nor proffer right.


Couzen Diogenes, didst thou suruiue,
Mine hart were freed from a thousand feares,
If Pilgrim, thou couldst prosprously athriue,
Midst the Caniculars of our lucklesse yeares,
Couldst thou fadge with the vvorld in thy state,
I would thee for example imitate.
Remember, how they once did Dogge thee name,
Now Curre, and worse then ill, they would thee call,
Bannish thy presence to thy future shame,
Not spare a tub to couer thee with all.
But intercept the Sun from warning thee,
If them thou find such, as they prooue to mee.
The shestring Hedge personates Beggars house,
The trees, the fields, and bushes are his mates,
Some silly Baucis poore Philemons spowse,
Forgotten and forgone of greater states,
His Rayment, Ragges, vndecency his lace,
The Rent his Cut, his habits so to grace.
The Cynick once with Candle in his hand,
At noone a man in Macedonia sought;
vvere he Surueyour of the spacious land,
He scarcely should descry a courteous thought,
That had Compassion to commiserate,
The Indigence of some distressed state.


This frozen-harted Age so coldly loues,
That Charity extinguished is found,
Beneficence but verball fauour prooues,
VVhile Promise doth but expectation sound,
All are content to father Dignitie,
Yet few will Parents-be of Courtesie.
Had I but honour, all I would aduance:
Had I but wealth, I would inrich the poore:
Or strength, I would the weakest countenance:
Or had I skill, I would secure the sore:
There should no penny of reward be nam'd,
Till I had made strength, wealth, and Art asham'd.
Ist not a distaine to Humanity,
That monie should thus tyrannize on earth?
Or Niggardize our fames indignifie,
And on the faculties raise needlesse dearth?
The Arts are liberall, then why should price,
Bury such gifts in obscure Auarice?
VVhat Penury of Paper Scriueners find:
VVhile Bills, and Bonds, Indentures, Leases, Deeds,
The worldlings to their words performance bind:
Though no Prouiso for Relapse of needs,
The Poore bare Ecchoes are content to take,
VVhile Rich with waxe and writings bargaine make.


VVhile vvrits and vvarrants, Executions, Rests,
Lurke like Hyenna, Debts to apprehend,
vvhile carefull Creditors perturbe their brest,
In secresie their Messengers to send
Vnto the Bank-rupt, that hath broken day,
And doth not leuie, what he ought to pay.
These troubles are become so common trade,
That Shoulder-catching doth the vnthrift gall:
Such Custodies for Euidences made,
That they deuoure the timber, steele, and all;
They must haue double gates before their doore,
To stop the false, and to expell the poore.
The Needy no key, lock, chest, closet lack,
They without artificiall continent,
Include in Belly, and support on back,
vvhat Heauen giues, or niggard Earth hath lent,
No folds for flockes, no treasuries for gold,
But they haue present vse, that all can hold.
Deneers not Duckats are the Summes we make,
Pence and not pounds the charges we bestowe,
Slender dole, and no large Donations take,
Gratuity, the payments which we owe;
Yet vvorldly Pompe, which doth our eies allure,
Suggests, we should not this disgrace indure.


Coniecture what we thinke, when we behold,
A vvealth-enobled vvorldling, to abound
VVith rings, and pretious things, with gilt, and gold,
As such a second vvorthy were not found:
How true suppose yee prooues our Poore-mans ey,
vvhen all these trickes and trims it doth espy?
How faine it would relinquish homely head,
And riuet to Obiects so faire in sight;
VVhose robes and plumes so gloriouslie are spread,
The gazers to amaze with rare delight!
My dearest Treasures should be cheaply sold,
To buy a minute, these Rares to behold.
One of mine eies to ieopard could I brooke,
On silkes, scarfes, Sattans, iewells, bracelets, chaines,
On cuffes, and ruffes, and Nouelties to looke,
Although the price thereof procure my paines:
Such difference in my muck-blinded minde,
I betwixt their worth, and my want doe find.
One of their fingers craues more sumptuous cost,
Then all my Carkasse to inuest the same,
So gloz'd with gold, with pearle so imbost,
VVhose pricefull valew they at Hundreds name:
Almost I am perswaded, that it shall
Neuer to dust through times oppression fall.


For Iuries Solomon, that did abound
With rarest Ornaments, that Art hath wrought,
Nor Scriptures Lilly, was so royall found,
To equallize what shewes they foorth haue brought;
To make beholders at these sights admire,
And the Ambitious hange on their desire.
Cæsar, whose troupes enforc'd the Earth to grone,
VVith vvariours waight in his triumphant daies,
Numbred no more to gard his regall throne,
Then doe attend the Rich in all assaies;
For all the Earth is theirs to be inioyd,
And all the world are theirs to be imployd.
The vvinters frost nips not the Rich with colde,
Their purse preuention gainst all plagues procures,
Their steeds in stables stand, their flocks in folde,
The Poore (poore Hart) all Detriments indures,
VVealth neuer wrincheth griued with the gall,
Alas it's want, that euer feeles the fall.
Bare Neede constraines the eldest foote to trot,
Through frost, through flint, through fire, though legge be bare.
Ice neuer too cold, neuer Sun too hot,
To worke our woe, and to increase our care,
Although Disease and Death our liues possesse,
VVealth stands vnmoou'd to pitty our distresse.


But with a Crucifie they on vs call,
But with their helpe they adde griefe vnto griefe,
But with their might they wrest vs to the vvall,
But with their loues they leaue vs no reliefe,
Fie on that call, helpe, might, loue, and that deede,
vvhich makes our wounded hart the more to bleed.
But aske my staffe, the witnes of my woes,
vvhat crackes, what knockes, and strokes it hath indur'd,
As secret shield against professed foes,
By whom my blacke and blewes haue beene procur'd;
It's worne, it's torne, spoil'd, and foil'd, & cut in twaine,
To weaken force, which would augment my paine?
But aske my Scrip, the Cubbord where I lay
My crusts, my crumes, my Commons, victualls, meale,
And it my fortunes will in briefe bewray,
How niggardly with me these Earthlings deale:
If fasting fare in diet I surmount,
For euer me an Hereticke account.
vvhile Aristippus in the Court doth feede,
And fats his crammed Corps by flattery,
I in the Country entertaine my neede,
vvith herbes and roots of Natures charity,
And for my priuate foode search common fields,
vvhich Contents Plenty in abundance yeilds.


I thinke how Heauens gaue the Desolate
Manna, and Quailes, and Honie from the rockes,
Beautifide those harts vnfortunate,
Open'd their Treasuries with Mercies-lockes,
That though they Egipts garlicke, onions lost,
They found prouision of a dearer cost.
Ist true Elyas, that the Rauens brought
Such comfortable Nutriments of meate;
And so meanes of thy Sustentation wrought,
vvhen thou hadst nought but secresies to eate.
Not daring in the worlds apparance stand,
Fearing Oppressions tyrannizing hand?
In aire Camelions foster vitall breath,
In flaming fires the Salamander feeds:
In Seas the Fish secure themselues from death:
Mowles in Earths bowells doe expell their needes:
Then will I not in doubtfull state despaire,
vvhile I may liue by water, fire, earth, aire.
These Cobs resemble Saturne, that deuour'd
The stone Abider in the steede of Ioue;
And all the flouds of their desires are pour'd,
To make a Sea of what they chiefely loue:
They couet drosse, and doe contemne the gold,
Omit the good, which men by vertue holde.


Yet they themselues shrowd in security,
Gainst aduerse Oppositions fortifide,
Beare Armes against that trouping miserie,
Which circumuents my Soule on eu'ry side:
They are not troubled with a touch of woe,
VVhile we midst Legions of misfortunes goe.
Seas, stormes, waues, tempests, and contrary wind,
Did poore shipman Acætes euer crosse,
In calmest Ocean he did shipwracke find,
VVhich did conuert his lucre into losse;
VVhile wealthy Marchants safely doe arriue,
And at their pleasure prosprously athriue.
Thus Passions get a habit in my life,
Making it tractable to Fortunes frowne,
VVhile we liue Souldiours in sinister strife,
Contending to attaine a Lawrell Crowne;
Yet Mercenaries find a time to rest,
vvhich is as much, as hapneth to the best.
Horace, did not Cobler Alphenus liue?
VVhy Vsurer Alphius did no more,
Yet though the Fates to all like breathing giue,
Fortune makes them not Stewards of like store;
The doubtfull lots are so vnequall found,
That some must want, while others doe abound.


The Seas Amalchi'um alwaies frozen stand,
vvant flagrant Phæbus to dissolue the same;
And poore are euer more depriu'd of land,
vvhose former lot the Senior vvorldlings came,
On the Philosophers stone they erect
The edifice, which chiefely they respect.
And they haue power to turne Fortunes wheele,
As most contents their auaricious minde;
They skill choisest Commodities to feele,
Although their eies with earthly dust are blind;
Vnable to discerne that royall thing,
vvhich doth inrich the Beggar, grace the King.
These Sysiphusians haue a stone to turne,
A wandring thought to tumble vp and downe,
vvith Tantalus in expectation burne,
Couet the Country and affect the towne:
For what they stoop to take, too low doth lie;
And what they reach to catch, ascends too hie,
These with Ancæus plant the sprowting vine,
Hedge in their garden, Orchard, Hearbory,
Yet neuer tast of their expected wine,
By Calidons bore intercepted die,
For Fates preuent them with their tuskish wound,
Before the Sweete fruits of their sweats are found.


Some Deianira venom'd shirts them send,
From worldly Iole to draw their loue,
That midst their mirth with misery they end,
Their harts from ioyes enioying to remooue:
Then Hercules from reason runs to rage,
And Death denies them of an elder age.
These Fatlings feast, while as I pooreling fast,
They dine, I pine; they sweetely sleepe, I wake:
They leaue, I lacke; I want, they plenty wast:
I seeke a crum, while choise of Cates they make,
Their fast is dearth of stomacke, not of meate,
Mine is because I haue not what to eate.
These are vainglorious, lewd, vniust in life,
Desperate, discontent in death they bee,
Sedition-sowers, stirrers vp of strife,
VVhile Heires for Inuentories disagree,
These Purgatorians, though forgot in graue,
Ora pro nobis must remembred haue.
Funerall pomps, tombes, Ceremonies, Rites,
Epitaphes, month-minds, Dirges, Candels, Bell,
Rabbles of irreligion, Flattring writes,
To intercept their passage into Hell,
Their Memories in Chronicles must liue,
VVhen Truth should them scandals sepulchre giue.


Yet false teares stepdame-like their partings haue
Of friends, acquaintance, Kindred, children, wife,
Scrikes, cries, sighes, and sobs circumuent their graue,
Though death of one to twenty giueth life,
For many Soules are comforted with that,
VVherewith one Epicure fed one so fat.
Might I heire to some Vsurer be found,
VVhose gorged chests surfet with cramming gold,
VVhose coffers with Commodities abound
So full, that they no sterling more may hold:
Rome Rascalls then make space and grace for me,
VVhereas my vvorship shall in person bee.
I would elect, Flaunt, Cut, and Swash for mates,
For choise Companions, pleasure, mirth, delight,
For equalls, Gentells, Honourables, States;
Aiax would not presume to prooue my might:
Mylo would beare his Bull, and let me goe,
Malitious Momus durst not be my foe.
Dignitie seeme inferiour, and too bad
To be my shadowe, Science would attend,
Inuention practize Arts to make me glad,
Poetry my profession would commend,
Dutifull Loyalty would humbly greete
My Person, passing the prospicuous streete.


But now the worst are censured too good,
The Miscreants, the Abiects, the forlorne,
Adiudging Basenes borne of better blood,
A corner of my Company doe scorne:
So odible an Obiect am I thought,
Contemn'd, forsaken, loth'd, and let at nought.
Yet Miser thus disparaiged I liue,
Succour and meanes of maintenance to mee,
The heate, the ayre, the vvoods, and vvaters giue,
Though Fortunatelings hate it so to bee,
I borrow not, doubting to be denide,
I steale not fearing my life should be tride.
Come staffe, and manage mine vnhappy hand,
Scrip, guard my Shoulders, burthen light to beare,
Three merry mates we gainst the Sun will stand,
Solace to see, that comforts none can heare,
The lighter purse, the lesse the cares are found,
Hearke, while I whistle to the winds a round.
Arthur Warren.