Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sirs, I do know your minds, you look for fees;
For more respect than needs, for caps and knees:
But be content, I haue not for you now,
Nor will I have at all to do with you.
For though I seem opprest, and you suppose
I must be fain to crouch to Vertues foes;
Yet know, your favours I do sleight them more
In this distresse, than e'er I did before.
Here to my Liege a message I must tell,
If you will let me passe you shall do well;
If you deny admittance, why then know
I mean to have it where you will or no.
Your formall wisdome which hath never been
In ought but in some fond invention seen:
And you that think men born to no intent
But to be train'd in apish complement;
Doth now perhaps suppose me indiscreet,
And such unused messages unmeet.
But what of that? Shall I go suit my matter
Vnto your wits, that have but wit to flatter?
Shall I of your opinions so much prize,
To lose my will, that you may think me wise,
Who never yet to any liking had,
Vnlesse he were a Knave, a Fool, or mad?
You Mushroms know, so much I weigh your powers,
I neither value you, nor what is yours.
Nay, though my crosses had me quite out-worn.
Spirit enough I'de finde, your spite to scorn
Of which resolv'd, to further my adventure,
Vnto my King, without your leaves I enter.

322

To the Honest Courtiers.

Bvt You, whose onely worth doth colour give
To Them that they do worthy seem to live,
Kinde Gentlemen, your aide I crave to bring
A Satyre to the presence of his King,
A show of rudenesse doth my forehead arm,
Yet you may rust him, he intends no harm.
He that hath sent him, loyall is, and true,
And one whose love (I know) is much to you:
But now he lies bound to a narrow scope;
Almost beyond the Cape of all good Hope.
Long hath he sought to free himselfe, but fails:
And therefore seeing nothing else prevails,
Me to acquaint his Soveraigne here he sends,
As one desparing of all other friends.
I do presume that you will favour show him,
Now that a messenger from thence you know him,
For many thousands that his face ne'er knew,
Blame his Accusers, and his fortunes rue:
And by the help which your good word may doe,
He hopes for pitty from his Soveraigne too.
Then in his presence with your favours grace him,
And there's no Vice so great shall dare out-face him.

323

To the Kings most Excellent Majestie.

A Satyre.

Quid tu, si pereo?

What once the Poet said, I may avow,
'Tis a hard thing not to write Satyrs now.
Since what we speak (abuse reigns so in all)
Spight of our hearts will be Satyricall.
Let it not therefore now be deemed strange,
My unsmooth'd lines their rudenesse do not change,
Nor be distastfull to my gracious King,
That in the Cage my old harsh notes I sing:
And rudely make a Satyre here unfold,
What others would in neater tearms have told.
And why? my friends and means in Court are scant,
Knowledge of curious phrase and form I want.
I cannot bear't to run my selfe in debt,
To hire the Groom, to bid the Page intreat
Some favour'd Follower to vouchsafe his word,
To get me a cold comfort from his Lord.
I cannot sooth, (though it my life might save)
Each Favourite, nor crouch to ev'ry Knave.

324

I cannot brook delaies, as some men doe,
With scoffes and scornes, and tak't in kindnesse too.
For e'er I'de binde my selfe for some sleight grace
To one that hath no more worth than his place:
Or, by a base meane free my selfe from trouble,
I rather would endure my penance double.
Cause to be forc'd to what my minde disdains,
Is worse to me than tortures, racks, and chaines.
And therefore unto Thee I onely flye,
To whom there needs no mean but honesty.
To Thee that lov'st nor Parasite or Minion,
Should e'er I speak possesse thee with opinion.
To Thee that dost what thou wilt undertake,
For love of Iustice, not the persons sake.
To Thee that knowst how vain all fair shews be,
That flow not from the hearts sincerity;
And canst, though shadowed in the simplest vail,
Discern both Love and Truth, and where they fail.
To Thee I do appeal, in whom heaven knows,
I next to God my confidence repose.
For, can it be thy Grace should ever shine,
And not enlighten such a cause as mine?
Can my hopes (fixt in thee great King) be dead;
Or thou those Satyres hate thy Forrests bred?
Where shall my second hopes be founded then,
If ever I have heart to hope agen?
Can I suppose a favour may be got
In any place, when thy Court yeelds it not?
Or that I may obtain it in the land,
When I shall be deni'd it at thy hand?
And if I might, could I delighted be
To tak't of others, when I mist of thee?
Or if I were, could I have comfort by it,
When I should think my Soveraigne did deny it?

325

No, were I sure I to thy hate were born,
To seek for others favours I would scorn.
For if the best-worth-loves I could not gain,
To labour for the rest I would disdain.

But why should I thy favour here distrust,
That have a cause so known, and known so just?
Which not alone my inward comfort doubles,
But all suppose me wrong'd that heare my troubles.
Nay, though my fault were reall, I beleeve,
Thou art so Royall that thou wouldst forgive.

For, well I know thy sacred Majesty
Hath ever been admir'd for Clemencie,
And at thy gentlenesse the world hath wondred,
For making Sun-shine where thou mightst have thundred.
Yea, thou in mercy life to them didst give
That could not be content to see thee live.
And can I think that thou wilt make me then,
The most unhappy of all other men?
Or let thy loyall subject against reason,
Be punish'd more for Love than some for Treason?
No thou didst never yet thy glory stain
With an injustice to the meanest Swain.
'Tis not thy will I'm wrong'd, nor dost thou know
If I have suffred injuries or no.
For if I have not heard false rumours flie,
Th' ast grac'd me with the stile of honesty.
And if it were so, (as some think it was)
I cannot see how it should come to passe,
That thou, from whose free tongue proceedeth nought
Which is not correspondent with thy thought.
Those thoughts too, being fram'd in Reasons mould,
Should speak that once which should not ever hold.

But passing it as an uncertainty,
I humbly beg thee by that Majesty,

326

Whose sacred Glory strikes a loving-feare
Into the hearts of all to whom 'tis deare:
To deigne me so much favour, without merit,
As read this plant of a distempered spirit:
And think, unlesse I saw some hideous storme,
Too great to be endur'd by such a worme,
I had not thus presum'd unto a King,
With Æsops Fly to seek an Eagles wing.

Know, I am he that entred once the list
Gainst all the world to play the Satyrist:
'Twas I that made my measures rough and rude,
Danc'd, arm'd with whips, amidst the multitude,
And unappaled with my charmed Scrowls,
Teaz'd angry Monsters in their lurking holes.
I've plaid with Wasps and Hornets without fears,
Till mad they grew and swarm'd about my eares.
I've done it; and me thinks 'tis such brave sport,
I may be stung, but n'er be sorry for't.
For all my griefe is, that I was so sparing,
And had to more in't worth the name of daring.
He that will tax these times must be more bitter,
Tart lines of Vinegar and Gall are fitter.
My fingers and my spirits were benum'd,
My Ink ran forth too smooth, 'twas too much gum'd;
I'd have my Pen so paint it where it traces,
Each accent should draw bloud into their faces;
And make them when their Villanies are blazed,
Shudder and startle as men halfe amazed,
For feare my verse should make so loud a din,
Heaven hearing might rain vengeance on their sin,
Oh, now for such a Strain! would Art could teach it.
Though halfe my spirits I consum'd to reach it
I'd learn my Muse so brave a course to flie,
Men should admire the power of Poesie.

327

And those that dar'd her greatnesse to resist,
Quake even at naming of a Satyrist.
But whē his scourging numbers flow'd with wonder,
Should cry, God blesse us, as they did at thunder.

Alas! my lines came from me too-too dully,
They did not fill a Satyrs mouth up fully.
Hot bloud and youth, enrag'd with passions store,
Taught me to reach a strain, ne'er touch'd before.
But it was coldly done, I throughly chid not,
And somewhat there is yet to do, I did not.
More soundly could my Scourge have yerked many,
Which I omitted not for feare of any.
For, want of action, discontentments, rage,
Base dis-respect of Vertue (in this age)
With other things which were to goodnesse wrong,
Made me so fearlesse in my carelesse Song:
That had not reason within compasse won me,
I had told truth enough to have undone me
(Nay, have already, if that her divine
And unseen power can do no more than mine.)
For though foreseeing warinesse was good,
I fram'd my stile unto a milder mood;
And clogging her high-towring wings with mire,
Made her halfe earth; that was before all fire.
Though as you saw, in a disguised shew,
I brought my Satyres to the open view:
Hoping (their out-sides, being mis-esteem'd)
They might have passed but for what they seem'd:
Yet some, whose Comments jump not with my minde,
In that low phrase a higher reach would finde,
And out of their deep judgements seem to know
What 'tis uncertain if I meant or no;
Ayming thereby out of some private hate,
To work my shame, or over-throw my state.

328

For amongst many wrongs my foe doth do me,
And many imputations laid unto me,
(Deceived in his aym) he doth mis-conster,
That which I have enstil'd a Man-like-Monster,
To mean some private person in the state,
Whose worth I sought to wrong out of my hate;
Vpbraiding me, I from my word do start,
Either for want of better ground, or heart.
Cause from his expectation I did vary,
In the denying of his Commentary;
Whereas 'tis known I meant Abuse the while,
Not thinking any one to be so vile
To merit all those Epithites of shame,
How ever any do deserve much blame.

But say, (I grant) that I had an intent
To have it so (as he interprets) meant;
And let my gracious Liege suppose there were
One whom the State may have just cause to feare;
Or think there were a man, and great in Court,
That had more faults than I could well report,
Suppose I knew him, and had gone about
By some particular marks to paint him out,
That he best knowing his own faults might see
He was the man (I would) should noted be:
Imagine now such doings in this age,
And that this man so pointed at should rage;
Call me in question, and by his much threatning,
By long imprisonment, and ill-intreating
Vrge a Confession, wert not a mad part
For me to tell him what lay in my heart?
Do not I know a Great mans power and might
In spight of innocence can smother right,
Coulour his Villanies to get esteem?
And make the honest man, the villain seem?

329

And that the truth I told should in conclusion,
For want of power and friends be my confusion!
I know it, and the world doth know 'tis true;
Yet I protest, if such a man I knew,
That might my Countrey prejudice, or Thee,
Were he the greatest or the proudest Hee
That breathes this day: (if so it might be found,
That any good to either might redound.)
So far Ile be (though Fate against me run)
From starting off from that I have begun,
I un-appaled dare in such a case,
Rip up his foulest crimes before his face;
Though for my labour I were sure to drop
Into the mouth of ruine without hope.

But such strange far-fetch'd meanings they have sought;
As I was never privie to in thought,
And that unto particulars would tie
Which I intended universally.
Whereat Some, with displeasure over-gone,
(Those I scarce dream'd of, saw, or thought upon)
Maugre those caveats on my Satyres brow,
Their honest and just passage disallow.
And on their heads so many censures take,
That spight of me themselves they'l guilty make.

Nor is't enough to swage their discontent,
To say I am, (or to be) innocent.
For as when once the Lyon made decree,
No horned-beast should nigh his presence be,
That on whose forehead onely did appeare
A bunch of flesh, or but some tuft of haire,
Was even as far in danger as the rest,
If he but said, it was a horned beast.
So there be now, who think in that their power
Is of much force, and greater far than our,

330

It is enough to prove a guilt in me,
Because (mistaking) they so think't to be.

Yet 'tis my comfort, they are not so high,
But they must stoop to Thee and Equity.
And this I know though prick't; they storm agen
The world doth deem them ne'er the better men.
To stir in filth makes not the stench the lesse,
Nor doth Truth feare the frown of Mightinesse.
Because those numbers she doth daigne to grace,
Men may suppresse a while, but ne'er deface.

I wonder, and 'tis wondred at by many,
My harmlesse lines should breed distast in any:
And so, that (whereas most good men approve
My labour to be worthy thanks and love)
I as a Villain and my Countryes foe
Should be imprison'd, and so strictly too,
That not alone my liberty is barr'd,
But the resort of friends (which is more hard)
And whilst each wanton, or loose Rimers Pen,
With oyly words sleeks o'er the sinnes of men,
Vayling his wits to every Puppets beck;
Which e'er I'le do, I'le joy to break my neck.
(I say) while such as they in every place
Can finde protection, patronage, and grace;
If any look on me, 'tis but a skaunce,
Or if I get a favour 'tis by chance.
I must protect my selfe: poore truth and I
Can have scarce one speak for our honesty.
Then whereas they can gold and gifts attain,
Malicious hate and envy is my gain,
And not alone have here my Freedome lost,
Whereby my best hope's likely to be crost:
But have been put to more charge in one day,
Than all my Patrons bounties yet will pay.

331

What I have done was not for thirst of gain,
Or out of hope preferments to attain:
Since to condemne them would more profit me,
Then all the glories in the world that be:
Yet they are helps to Vertue us'd aright,
And when they wanting be, she wants her might.
For Eagles mindes ne'er fit a Ravens feather.
To dare and to be able suit together.

But what is't I have done so worty blame,
That some so eagerly pursue my fame?
Vouchsafe to view't with thine own eyes, and trie
(Save want of Art) what fault thou canst espie.
I have not sought to scandalize the state,
Nor sown sedition, nor made publike bate:
I have not aim'd at any good mans fame,
Nor tax'd directly any one by name.
I am not be that am grown discontent
With the Religion, or the Government.
I meant no Ceremonies to protect,
Nor do I favour any new-sprung Sect;
But to my Satyres gave this onely warrant,
To apprehend and punish Vice apparant.
Who aiming in particular at none,
In generall upbraided every one,
That each (unshamed of himselfe) might view
That in himselfe, which no man dares to shew.

And hath this Age bred up neat Vice so tenderly,
She cannot brook it to be touch'd so slenderly?
Will she not bide my gentle Satyres bites?
Harme take her then, what makes she in their sightes?
If with impatience she my whip-cord feel,
How had she raged at my lash of Steel?
But, am I cal'd in question for her cause?
Is't Vice that these afflictions on me draws?

332

And need I now thus to Apologize,
Onely because I scourged villanies?
Must I be fain to give a reason why,
And how I dare allow of honesty?
Whilst that each fleering Parasite is bold,
Thy Royall brow undaunted to behold:
And every Temporizer strikes a string,
That's Musick for the hearing of a King?
Shall not he reach out to obtain as much,
Who dares more for thee than a hundred such?
Heaven grant her patience, my Muse takes't so badly,
I feare shee'l lose her wits, for she raves madly.
Yet let not my dread Soveraigne too much blame her,
Whose awfull presence now hath made her tamer.
For if there be no Flie but hath her spleen,
Nor a poore Pismire but will wreak her teen;
How shall I then that have both spleen and gall,
Being unjustly dealt with, beare with all?
I yet with patience take what I have born,
And all the worlds ensuing hate can scorn:
But 'twere in me as much stupiditie
Not to have feeling of an injury,
As it were weaknesse not to brook it well;
What others therefore think I cannot tell;
But, he that'e lesse than mad is more than Man,
Who sees when he hath done the best he can
To keep within the bounds of Innocence,
Sought to discharge his due to God and Prince;
That he, whilst Villains unreproved go,
Scoffing to see him overtaken so,
Should have his good endeavours misconceiv'd,
Be of his dearest liberty bereav'd,
And which is worse, without a reason why,
Be frownd on by Authorities grim eye.

333

By that great Power my soule so much doth feare,
Shee scornes the sternest frowns of a mortall Peer,
But that I Vertue love for her own sake;
It were enough to make me undertake
To speak as much in praise of Vice agen,
And practise some to plague these shames of men.
I mean those my Accusers, who mistaking
My ayms, do frame conceits of their own making.
But if I list, I need not buy so deare,
The just revenge might be inflicted here.
Now could I measures frame in this just fury,
Should sooner finde some guilty than a Iury:
The words like swords (tempred with Art) should pierce,
And hang, and draw, and quarter them in Verse:
Or I could rack them on the wings of Fame,
(And hee's halfe hang'd (they say) hath an ill name)
Yea, I'd go neare to make those guilty elves
Lycambes-like be glad to hang themselves:
And though this Age will not abide to heare
The faults reprov'd that Custome hath made deare;
Yet if I pleased, I could write their crimes,
And pile them up in walls for after-times:
For they'l be glad (perhaps) that shall ensue,
To see some story of their Fathers true.
Or should I smother'd be in darknesse still,
I might not use the freedome of a quill;
'Twould raise up braver Spirits than mine own,
To make my cause, and this their guilt more known:
Who by that subject should get love and fame,
Vnto my Foes disgrace and endlesse shame:
Those I do mean whose Comments have misus'd me,
And to those Peers I honour have accus'd me:
Making against my innocence their batteries,
And wronging them by their base flatteries:

334

But of revenge I am not yet so fain,
To put my selfe unto that needlesse pain:
Because I know a greater Power there is,
That noteth smaller injuries than this;
And being still as just as it is strong,
Apportions due revenge for every wrong.

But why (some say) should his too saucy Rimes
Thus tax the wise and great ones of our times?
It suits not with his yeares to be so bould,
Nor fits it us by him to be controld.
I must confesse ('tis very true indeed)
Such should not of my censure stand in need.
But blame me not, I saw good Vertue poore,
Desert among the most thrust out of doore,
Honesty hated, Courtesie banished,
Rich-men excessive, Poore-men famished:
Coldnesse in Zeale, in Lawes partiallity,
Friendship but Complement, and vain Formalitie.
Art I perceive contemn'd, while most advance
(To offices of worth) Rich Ignorance:
And those that should our Lights and Teachers be
Live (if not worse) as wantonly as we.
Yea, I saw Nature from her course run back,
Disorders grow, good orders go to wrack.
So to increase what all the rest began,
I to this current of confusion ran:
And seeing Age left of the place of guiding,
Thus plaid the saucy wag, and fell to chiding.

Wherein, however some (perhaps) may deem,
I am not so much faulty as I seem:
For when the Elders wrong'd Susanna's honour,
And none withstood the shame they laid upon her;
A Childe rose up to stand in her defence,
And spight of wrong confirm'd her Innocence.

335

To shew, Those must not that good undertake
Strain curt'sie who should do't for manners sake.
Nor do I know whether to me God gave
A boldnesse more than many others have,
That I might shew the world what shamefull blot
Vertue by her lascivious Elders got.
Nor is't a wonder, as some do suppose,
My youth so much corruption can disclose;
Since every day the Sun doth light mine eyes,
I am informed of new villanies:
But it is rather to be wondred how
I either can, or, dare be honest now.

And though again there be some others rage,
That I should dare (so much above mine age)
Thus censure each degree both young and old,
I see not wherein I am over-bold.
For if I have been plain with Vice, I care not,
There's nought that I know good & can, & dare not.
Onely this one thing doth my minde deterre,
Even a feare (through ignorance) to erre.

But oh! knew I what thou wouldst well approve,
Or might the small'st respect within thee move;
So in the sight of God it might be good,
And with the quiet of my conscience stood:
As well I know thy true integrity
Would command nothing against piety:)
There's nought so dangerous, or full of feare,
That for my Soveraignes sake I would not dare:
Which good beliefe, would it did not possesse thee,
Provided some just triall might re-blesse me.
Yea though a while I did endure the gall
Of thy displeasure in this lothsome thrall.
For notwithstanding in this place I lie
By the command of that Authority,

336

Of which I have so much respective care,
That in mine own (and just defence) I feare
To use the free speech that I do intend,
Lest ignorance or rashnesse should offend.
Yet is my meaning and my thought as free
From wilfull wronging of thy laws or thee,
As he to whom thy Place and Person's dearest,
Or to himselfe that findes his conscience clearest.
If there be wrong, 'tis not my making it,
All the offence is somes mistaking it.
And is there any Iustice borne of late,
Makes those faults mine which others perpetrate?
What man could ever any Age yet finde,
That spent his spirits in this thanklesse kinde,
Shewing his meaning, to such words could tie it,
that none could either wrong, or mis-apply it?

Nay, your own Laws which (as you do intend)
In plainst and most effectuall words are penn'd,
Cannot be fram'd so well to your intent,
But some there be will erre from what you meant.
And yet (alas) I must be tide unto
What never any man before could do.
Must all I speake or write so well be done,
That none may pick more meanings thence than one?
Then all the world I hope will leave dis-union,
And every man become of one opinion,
But since some may, what care soe'er we take,
Divers constructions of our writings make,
The honest Readers ever will conceive
The best intentions, and all others leave,
Chiefly in that where I forehand protest,
My meaning ever was the honestest:
And if I say so, what is he may know
So much as to affirme it was not so?

337

Sit other men so near my thoughts to show it,
Or is my heart so open that all know it?
Sure if it were they would no such things see,
As those whereof some have accused me.
But I care lesse how it be understood,
Because the heav'ns know, my intent was good.
And if it be so that my too-free Rimes
Do much displease the world, and these bad times;
'Tis not my fault; for had I been imploy'd
In something else, all this had now been void.
Or if the world would but have granted me
Wealth, or affaires whereon to busie me,
I now unheard of, peradventure then
Had been as mute as some rich Clergie-man.
But they are much deceiv'd that think my minde
Will e'er be still, while it can doing finde;
Or that unto the world so much it leans,
As to be curtall'd for default of means.
No, though most be, all Spirits are not earth,
Nor suiting with the fortunes of their birth.
My bodie's subject unto many powers,
But my soul's as free as is the Emperours:
And though to curb her in I oft assay,
Shee'll break in't action spite of durt and clay.
And is't not better than to take this course,
Than fall to studie mischiefe, and do worse?
I say she must have action, and she shall,
For if she will, how can I do withall?
And let those that o'er busie think me, know,
He made me that knew why he made me so.
And though there's some do say, my thoughts do flie
A pitch beyond my states sufficiency;
My humble minde, I give my Saviour thank,
Aspires nought yet 'bove my fortunes rank.

338

But say it did, wilt not befit a man
To raise his thoughts as near heaven as he can?
Must the free-spirit ty'd and curbed be
According to the bodies povertie?
Or can it ever be so subject to
Base Change, to rise and fall as fortunes do?

Men born to noble means, and vulgar mindes,
Enjoy their wealth; and there's no law that bindes
Such to abate their substance, though their pates
Want brains, and they worth to possesse their states.
So God to some doth onely great mindes give;
And little other means whereon to live.
What law or conscience then shall make thē smother
Their spirit, which is their life, more than other
To bate their substance? since if 'twere confest,
That a brave minde could ever be supprest,
Wer't reason any should himselfe deprive
Of what the whole world hath not pow'r to give?
For wealth is common, and fools get it too,
When to give spirit's more than Kings can do.

I speak not this because I think there be
More than the ordinarest gifts in me;
But against those who think I do presume
On more than doth befit me to assume;
Or would have all whom Fortune bars from store,
Make themselves wretched as she makes them poore
And cause in other things she is unkinde,
Smother the matchlesse blessings of their minde:
Whereas (although her favours do forsake them)
Their mindes are richer than the world can maketh
Why should a good attempt disgraced seem
Because the person is of mean esteem?
Vertu's a chast Queen, and yet doth not scorn
To be embrac'd by him that's meanest born;

339

Shee is the prop that Majesties support,
Yet one whom Slaves as well as Kings may court,
She loveth all that beare affection to her,
And yeelds to any that hath heart to wo her.
So Vice, how high so e'er she be in place,
Is that which Grooms may spit at in disgrace:
Shee is a strumpet and may be abhor'd,
Yea, spurn'd at in the bosome of a Lord.
Yet had I spoke her fair I had been free,
As many other of her Lovers be.
If her escapes I had not chanc'd to tell,
I might have been a Villain, and done well:
Gotten some speciall favour, and not sate
As now I do shut up within a grate.
Or if I could have hap't on some loose strain,
That might have pleas'd the wanton Readers vain:
Or but claw'd Pride, I now had been unblam'd,
(Or else at least there's some would not have sham'd
To plead my cause) but see my fatall curse,
Sure I was either mad, or somewhat worse.
For I saw vices followers bravely kept,
In Silks they walk'd, on beds of Down they slept,
Richly they fed on dainties evermore,
They had their pleasure, they had all things store:
(Whilst Vertue begg'd, yea, favours had so many,
I knew they brook'd not to be touch'd of any:
Yet could not I like other men be wise,
And learn for all this how to temporize;
But must (with two much honesty made blinde,
Vpbraid this loved Darling of mankinde:
Whereas I might have better thriv'd by faining:
Or if I could not chuse but be complaining,
More safe I might have raill'd on Vertue sure,
Because her lovers and her friends are fewer.

340

I might have brought some other things to passe,
Made Fidlers-Songs or Ballads, like an Asse,
Or any thing almost indeed but this.
Yet since 'tis thus, I'm glad 'tis so amisse;
Because, if I am guilty of a crime,
'Tis that wherein the best of every time
Hath been found faulty, (if they faulty be)
That do reprove Abuse and Villany.

For what I'm taxt, I can examples shew,
In such old Authors as this State allow:
And I would fain once learn a reason why
They can have better usage here than I?
I muse men do not now in question call
Seneca, Horace, Persius, Iuvenal,
And such as they? Or why did not that age
In which they lived put them in a Cage?
If I should say that men were juster then,
I should neare hand be mad unsay't agen:
And therefore sure I think I were as good,
Leave it to others to be understood.
Yet I as well may speak as deem amisse;
For such this Ages curious cunning is,
I scarcely dare to let my heart think ought,
For there be some will seem to know my thought;
Who may out-face me that I think a-wry,
When there's no witnesse but my Conscience by:
And then I likely am as well to speed,
As if I spak, or did amisse indeed.

Yet lest those, who (perhaps) may malice this,
Interpret also these few lines amisse;
Let them that after Thee shall read or heare,
From a rash censure of my thoughts forbeare,:
Let them not mold the sense that this contains
According to the forming of their brains;

341

Or think I dare or can here tax those Peers,
Whose worths their Honours to my soule endears;
(Those by whose loved-fear'd authority
I am restrained of my liberty:
For least there yet may be a man so ill,
To haunt my lines with his black Coment still,
(In hope my luck again may be so good
To have my words once rightly understood)
This I protest, that I do not condemne
Ought as unjust that hath been done by them;
For though my honest heart not guilty be
Of the least thought that may disparage me;
Yet when such men as I shall have such foes
Accuse me of such crimes to such as those,
Till I had means my Innocence to show,
Their Iustice could have done no lesse than so.

Nor have I such a proud conceited wit,
Or selfe-opinion of my knowledge yet,
To think it may not be that I have run
Vpon some errours in what I have done,
Worthy this punishment which I endure;
(I say I cannot so my selfe assure)
For 'tis no wonder if their wisedomes can
Discover imperfections in a man
So weak as I, (more than himselfe doth see)
Since my sight dull with insufficiencie,
In men more grave and wiser far than I,
Innumerable errours doth espie;
Which they with all their knowledge I'l be bould,
Cannot (or will not) in themselves behold.
But e'er I will my selfe accuse my Song,
Or keep a tongue shall do my heart that wrong,
To say I willingly in what I pen'd,
Did ought that might a Goodmans sight offend;

342

Or with my knowledge did insert one word
That might disparage a true honour'd Lord;
Let it be in my mouth a helplesse sore,
And never speak to be beleeved more.

Yet man irresolute is, unconstant, weak,
And doth his purpose oft through frailty break.
Lest therefore I by force hereafter may
Be brought from this minde, and these words unsay,
Here to the world I do proclaim before,
If e'er my resolution be so poore,
'Tis not the Right, but might that makes me do it;
Yea nought but fearefull basenesse brings me to it;
Which if I still hate, as I now detest,
Never can come to harbour in my brest.

Thus my fault then, (if they a fault imply)
Is not alone an ill unwillingly,
But also might I know it, I entend,
Not onely to acknowledge, but amend:
Hoping that thou wilt not be so severe,
To punish me above all other here.
But for m'intents sake, and my love to Truth;
Impute my errours to the heat of Youth,
Or rather ignorance, then to my will,
Which sure I am was good, what e'er be ill,
And like to him now in whose place thou art,
What e'er the residue be, accept the Heart.
But I grow tedious, and my love abus'd,
Disturbs my thoughts, and makes my lines confus'd.
Yet pardon me, and daigne a gracious eye,
On this my rude unfil'd Apologie.
Let not the bluntnesse of my phrase offend,
Weigh but the matter, and not how 'tis penn'd,
By these abrupt lines in my just defence,
Iudge what I might say for my innocence.

343

And think I more could speak, that here I spare,
Because my power suits not to what I dare.
My unaffected stile retains (you see)
Her old Frize-Cloak of young Rusticitie:
If others will use neater tearmes, they may,
Ruder I am, yet love as well as they:
And (though if I would smooth't I cannot doo't)
My humble heart I bend beneath thy foot;
While here my Muse her discontent doth sing,
To thee her great Apollo and my King:
Emploring thee by that high sacred Name,
By Iustice, by those Powers that I could name:
By whatsoe'er may move entreat I thee,
To be what thou art unto all, to me;
I feare it not, yet give me leave to pray,
I may have foes, whose power doth beare such sway,
If they but say I'm guilty of offence,
'Twere vain for me to plead my innocence.

But as the Name of God thou bear'st, I trust
Thou immitat'st him too in beeing just:
That when the right of truth thou com'st to scan,
Thou'lt not respect the person of the man;
For if thou do, then is my hope undone,
The head-long-way to ruine I must run.
For whil'st that they have all the helps which may
Procure their pleasure with my soon decay:
How is it like that I my peace can win me,
When all the ayde I have comes from within me?
Therefore (good King) that mak'st thy bounty shine
Sometime on those whose worth's are small as mine;
Oh! save me now from Envies dangerous shelfe,
Or make me able, and I'l save my selfe.
Let not the want of that make me a scorn,
To which there are more Fools than Wisemen born.

344

Let me not for my meannesse be despis'd,
Nor others greatnesse make their words more priz'd,
For what soe'er my outward Fate appears,
My soul's as good, my heart's as great as theirs:
My love unto my Countrey, and to Thee
As much as his that more would seem to be.
And would this age allow but means to show it,
Those that misdoubt it, should e'er long time know it.

Pitty my youth then, and let me not lie
Wasting my time in fruitlesse misery.
Though I am mean, I may be born unto
That service which another cannot doe.
In vain the little Mouse the Lyon spar'd not,
Shee did him pleasure when a greater dar'd not.
If ought that I have done do thee displease,
Thy misconceived wrath I will appease,
Or sacrifice my heart; but why should I
Suffer for God knows whom, I know not why?
If that my words through some mistake offends,
Let them conceive them right and make amends.
Or were I guilty of offence indeed,
One fault (they say) doth but one pardon need.
Yet one I had, and now I want one more;
For once I stood accus'd for this before.
As I remember, I so long agon
Sung Thame and Rhynes Epithalamion;
When Shee, that from thy Royall Self derives
Those gracious vertues that best title gives:
Shee that makes Rhyne proud of her Excellence,
And me oft mind her here with reverence,
Daign'd in her great-good Nature to incline
Her gentle eare to such a Cause as mine;
And which is more, vouchsaf'd her word to cleare
Me from all dangers (if there any were)

345

So that I do not now intreat, or sue
For any great boon, or request that's new:
But onely this, (though absent from the land)
Her former favour still in force might stand;
And that her word (who present was so deare)
Might be as powerfull as when she was here.
Which if I finde, and with thy favour may
Have leave to shake my loathed bands away,
(As I do hope I shall) and be set free
From all the trouble this hath brought on me;
I'l make her Name give life unto a Song,
Whose never-dying note shall last as long
As there is either River, Grove, or Spring,
Or Down for Sheep, or Shepheards Lad to sing.
Yea, I will teach my Muse to touch a strain,
That was ne'er reach'd to yet by any Swain.
For though that many deem my years unripe,
Yet I have learn'd to tune an Oaten Pipe,
Whereon I'l try what musick I can make me,
(Vntill Bellona with her Trump awake me.)
And since the world will not have Vice thus shown,
By blazing Vertue I will make it known.
Then if the Court will not my lines approve,
I'l go unto some mountain, or thick grove:
There to my fellow' Shepheards will I Sing,
Tuning my Reed unto some dancing Spring;
In such a note that none should dare to trouble it,
Till the hills answer, and the woods redouble it.
And peradventure I may then go neare
To speak of something thou'lt be pleas'd to heare:
And that which those who now my tunes abhor,
Shall read, and like, and daigne to love me for.
But the mean while, oh passe not this suit by,
Let thy free hand signe me my liberty:

346

And if my love may move thee more to doe,
Good King consider this my trouble too.
Others have found thy favour in distresse,
Whose love to thee and thine I think was lesse.
And I might fitter for thy service live,
On what would not be much for thee to give.

And yet I ask it not, for that I feare
The outward means of life should fail me here:
For though I want to compasse those good ends
I aim at for my Countrey and my Friends,
In this poore state I can as well content me,
As if that I had wealth and honours lent me.
Nor for my own sake do I seek to shun,
This thraldome, wherein now I seem undone:
For though I prize my freedome more than Gold,
And use the means to free my selfe from hold,
Yet with a minde (I hope) unchang'd and free,
Here can I live and play with miserie,
Yea, in despight of want and slavery,
Laugh at the world in all her bravery.
Here have I learn'd to make my greatest wrongs,
Matter of mirth, and subjects but for Songs:
Here can I smile to see my selfe neglected,
And how the mean-mans suit is dis-respected;
Whilst those that are more rich, and better friended,
Can have twice greater faults, thrice sooner ended.

All this, yea more, I see and suffer too,
Yet live content midst discontents I doe.
Which whilst I can it is all one to me,
Whether in prison, or abroad it be.
For should I still lie here distrest and poore,
It shall not make me breathe a sigh the more.
Since to my selfe it is indifferent,
Where the small remnant of my daies be spent.

347

But for Thy sake, my Countries, and my Friends,
For whom, more than my selfe, God this life lends,
I would not, could I help it, be a scorn,
But (if I might) live free as I was born:
Or rather for my Mistris vertues sake,
Fair Vertue, of whom most account I make,
If I can chuse, I will not be debas'd
In this last action, lest She be disgrac'd:
For 'twas the love of her that brought me to
What spleen nor envy could not make me do.
And if her servants be no more regarded,
If enemies of Vice be thus rewarded;
And I should also Vertues wrongs conceale,
As if none liv'd to home she dar'd appeal:
Will they that do not yet her worth approve,
Be ever drawn to entertain her love,,
When they shall see him plagu'd as an offender,
Who for the love he beares her, doth commend her

This may to others more offensive be,
Than prejudiciall any way to me,
For who will his endeavours ever bend
To follow her whom there is none will friend?
Some I do hope there be that nothing may
From love of truth and honesty dismay.
But who will (that shall see my evill Fortune)
The remedy of times abuse importune?
Who will again, when they have smother'd me,
Dare to oppose the face of Villany?
Whereas he must be fain to undertake
A combate with a second Lernean Snake;
Whose ever-growing heads when as he crops,
Not onely two springs for each one he lops,
But also he shall see in midst of dangers,
Those he thought friends, turn foes, at least-wise strangers.

348

More I could speak, but sure if this do fail me
I never shall doe ought that will avail me;
Nor care to speak again, unlesse it be
To him that knows how heart and tongue agree;
No nor to live, when none dares undertake
To speak one word for honest Vertues sake.
But let his will be done that best knows what
Will be my future good, and what will not.
Hap well, or ill, my spotlesse meaning's faire,
And for Thee, this shall ever be my prayer,
That thou maist here enjoy a long-blest Reigne,
And dying be in heaven re-crown'd again.

So now, if thou hast daign'd my lines to heare,
There's nothing can befall me that I feare:
For if thou hast compassion on my trouble,
The joy I shall receive will be made double;
And if I fall, it may some glory be,
That none but Iove himselfe did ruine me.

Your Majesties loyall Subject, and yet Prisoner in the Marshalsey George Wither.

Finis.