Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Bvt, oh looke here; for I have surely found
The maine chiefe roote, the very spring & ground
Of our Inconstancie It is not chance
That so disables our perseverance;
But a base Weakenesse: which to tearme aright,
Is meerely a privation of our might,
Or a detraction from that little power
Which should be in those limbs and mindes of our.
We boast of strength; but tell me, can our daies
Afford a Milo, or a Hercules?
Can all the world (and that is large enough)
A match for Hector or Achilles show?
Have we a Champion strong enough to wield.
His Buckler? or Sir Aiax seven-fold Shield?
I thinke we have not: (but I durst so grant,
There be some living shall with Ajax vaunt.)

Nay, now in these daies it is doubted much,
Whether that any former age had such
As these fore-nam'd; but indeed our faith
Binds us to credit, that as Scripture saith;
There was a Sampson, who could fright whole hosts
And rent downe Gaza's barred gates and posts,
Whose mighty Armes unarm'd could bring to passe
E'en with a rotten Iaw-bone of an Asse,

193

A thousands ruine; and yet 'twill be long
Ere he shall thereby proove that man is strong.
For first, the strength he seem'd to have was known
To be the Spirit of God, and not his own:
And then his proper weaknesse did appeare,
When after his brave act he had wel-neare
Beene dead for thirst, whereas if he in spight
Of Nature had beene able, by his might
Out of that little Bony-rocke to wring,
To quench his present thirst, some flowing spring,
As did a stronger one: or if his power
Could have compel'd the melting clouds to showre
For present need such plenteous drops of raine
He might have had no reason to complaine,
Or crave more aide; Sure then we might at length,
Suppose that men had in themselves a strength,
But ne'r till then. Hee's mighty that can make
The Heavens, Earth and Hell, with's breath to shake
That in his Spheare the Suns swift course can stop,
And Atlas with his burthen under-prop,
He that with ease this Massie Globe can rowle,
And wrap up heaven like a parchment scrowle;
He that for no disease nor paine will droope,
Nor unto any plague infernall stoope:
He that can meate and drinke and sleepe refraine,
O hath the power to die and rise againe;
Hee's strong indeed; but he that can but teare
O, rend in two a Lion or a Beare,
O, doe some such like act, and then goe lie
Himselfe ore-come by some infirmitie,
How ere with vaunts he seemes his deeds to grace,
He is both miserable, weake and base.

What creature is there borne so weake as Man,
And so unable? tell me be that can.

194

Or (if that they could numbred be by any)
Count his diseases, and what hath so many?
Or else what creature is there, if he be
In bone and flesh of the same quantity,
So fraile as Man? or that can worse sustaine
Hunger, or thirst, or cold, or heate, or paine?
Sure none; and yet in Histories we find,
Till Luxury had weakned thus mankind,
They were much stronger; could endure the heat,
Travell a long time without drinke or meat:
And their best dainty was no costlier thing,
Than a wilde roote, or water from the spring.
With which small commons Nature was content;
Yea, in our climate people naked went;
And yet no question felt as little cold,
As we wrapt up in halfe a dozen fold.
They had no wast-coats; night-caps for their heads,
Nor downy pillowes, nor soft feather-beds:
They scornd as much to have such things about them
As we in this Age scorne to be without them.
Their heads some stone bare up: their brawny sides,
With ease the hardnesse of the earth abides.
Gluttonous fare that so the palate pleases,
Nere fild their bodies full of foule diseases;
Nor any pleasing liquors with excesse,
Made them grow weak through beastly drunkennesse
No lust-provoking meats made them unchaste,
Nor unto carnall copulation haste.
For I am in the mind they ne'er requir'd it,
Till Nature, come to her full strength desir'd it:
And that is it alone which made them be
More stout, more strong, and braver men than we:
It was a noble care in them indeed. But how
Are we become such Dwarfes and Pigmies now?

195

How are our limbs so weake and feeble growne?
I think I need not tell it, 'tis well knowne;
Nice tender breeding, which we well might spare,
Much drunkennesse and our luxurious fare?
Which addes not strength, as some doe vainely say,
But rather takes both strength and health away.
Yet chiefly this same imbecility.
Comes by too soon and frequent venery.

A beardlesse boy now cannot keepe his bed,
Vnlesse that he be of his night-geere sped,
And many Giglets I have married seene,
Ere they (forsooth) could reach eleventeene.
Nay 'tis no wonder we are growne so weake,
For now they'r matching brats ere they can speake:
And though we yet say that the men are stronger,
Yet he (I thinke) that lives but so much longer,
The revolution of an Age to see,
Will say that men the weaker vessels be.
But now our strength of body, which indeed,
Deserves no more respect than doth a Reed,
Is not the strength of which I meant to speake,
For we are yet another way too weake.
Our minds have lost their Magnanimity,
And are so feeble through infirmity;
That either to be resolute we care not,
Or else because of some base feare we dare not.

Where can we almost finde a man so hardy,
Who through his weakenesse is not sometime tardy
To speake the truth? or to declare his minde,
Though he doe many just occasions finde?
Hee'l winke at's friends offence, and passe it blindly,
Lest (peradventure) he should take't unkindly.
And if it be a Great man that offends,
Shew me but him that boldly reprehends,

196

And I'l admire him. Nay, wee'l rather now
Bend our endeavour, and our study how
To sooth and fawne; or to their lewdnesse tell
That all they doe (be't ne'er so bad) is well.
Their very lookes and presence we so feare,
As if that they some monstrous Cyclops were;
Which makes them worse. But howsoere they trust
Vnto their might, I'l tell them (for I must)
Although they threaten and can slanders make
Of just reproofes my heart shall never quake
T'informe their Honors, thus 'tis censur'd by men,
If they be Great ones, Tanto majus crimen:

One knowes the truth, but dares not to defend it,
Because he heares another discommend it;
Yea divers follow Vertues waies but coldly,
Because they dare not doe a good thing boldly:
And doe we not perceive that many a man
Fearing to be entituled, Puritan,
Simply neglects the meanes of his salvation,
Much hazarding thereby his soules damnation?

Some cannot well endure this or that;
Others distemper'd with I know not what,
Shew an exceeding frailty: few can brooke
With any patience that men should looke
Into their actions; and though they should love them
They rather hate them for't that doe reprove them.

Is there a man so strong that he forbeares
Choler or Envy, when by chance he heares
Himselfe revil'd, reproached and disgrac'd?
If there be such an one, he shall be plac'd
Amongst the Worthies, with the formost three
For in my judgement none more worthy be
To have renowne for strength than those that can
On their rebellious Passions play the man.

197

This Weakenesse I doe also finde in men,
They know not their owne happinesse till then
When they have lost it: and they doe esteeme
Men for their wealth and doe them blessed deeme
That are most rich; supposing no man more
Accursed or unhappy than the poore.

Some basely do condemne each strange report
To be untrue, because it doth not sort
With their weake reasons. Some againe will be
Astonished at every novelty:
But too much wondering doth discover plaine,
Where ignorance and frailty doth remaine.

Is it not weakenesse, when some petty losses,
Some hindrance in preferment, or such crosses,
Shall make men grieve? Is it not weakenesse, when
Adversity shall so disquiet men,
That they should not with patience sustaine,
Or under-goe a little crosse and paine?
Yes, questionlesse it is; for were they strong,
They would so arme themselves gainst grief & wrong
That no disastrous or ill hap should fright them,
Though fortune did the worst she can to slight them:
Nor would they those as the unworthiest deeme,
To whom Dame Fortune doth most froward seeme;
But rather such as all their lifetime be
In quiet state, and from disturbance free:
For she oft gives what their base longing craves,
Because she scornes to vexe dejected slaves.

I have knowne brave-men, brave at least in show
(And in this Age now that is brave enow)
That in appearance for brave Champions past,
And yet have basely yeelded at the last.

Besides, there's many who thought scorn to droope
By Fortunes power, have beene made to stoope,

198

And with discredit shamefully left undone
What they with honour at the first begun:
And their weake hearts (which frailty I much hate)
Dejected, have growne base with their estate:
Whereas (me thinks) the mind should never be
Subject to Fortunes frownes nor tyranny.

But here through weaknes some offence may take,
That I of Fortune should recitall make:
For they by Fortune say there's nothing done:
But all things ars both ended and begun
By Gods appointment. I confesse indeed
That he knowes all, and all hath fore-decreed,
In the respect of whom, I cannot say
Ought comes by chance: respecting us, I may.

So they are answer'd: but how can men be
So over-borne with this infirmity:
As those who are in every matter led
By Parasites and Apes: Where is their head?
I meane their will, their reason and their sense?
What is become of their intelligence?
How ist that they have such a partiall eare,
They can judge nothing true, but what they heare
Come from the tongue of some slie Sycophant:
But for because they strength of judgement want?

Those that themselves to flatteries inure,
I have perceived basely to endure
Too plainely to be soothed, mockt and flouted,
Made coxcombs to their faces; yet not doubted
That they were highly reverenc'd, respected,
And by those fawning Parasites affected.
And why forsooth? they often here them prate
In commendation of their happy state:
Yes, and they tell them that they vertuous be,
Wise, courteous, strong, and beautifull to see:

199

When if the eie of reason were not lockt,
They plainely might perceive that they were mockt,
For what is't else when they are prais'd for many
Goodly conditions that had never any?

This frailty also merits to be blam'd,
When fearefull of reproach we are asham'd
Our ignorance in those things to explain,
Wherein 'twere fit more knowledge to attain.
'Tis weaknesse also when a bargaine's bought,
Then to dispraise the penniworth, as nought,
And tell what might have been, or fondly prate
Of counsell when he sees it is too late.

Nor is it any lesse to seeke to stay
Him that we know doth hasten on his way;
Or be importunate for that which will
Be nothing for our good, yet others ill.
Also to be affraid for to gain-say
What men doe know untrue: or to delay
The right of any matter to declare;
Because they feare they unbeleeved are:
For notwithstanding Truth doth oft bring blame,
It may be freely spoken without shame.

Divers more waies, of which I needs must speake,
There's many men doe shew themselves but weake.
In some but lately I observed this,
And must needs say, their nature evill is:
If friends to them have any kindnesse showne,
Or entertainments willingly bestowne,
That they confesse they are indebted for it:
Yet such is their condition (I abhorre it)
If then those friends do hap to take the pain:
To come sometime and visite them again
In meere good will, because these great ones see
They cannot then so well provided be

200

To bid them welcome as their loves require,
(Though more than love, their loves did ne'er desire)
A foolish shame so blinds them, that they shal
(For giving them too much) have nought at all:
Yea, for because they want excessive fare,
Or some such things; for which their friends ne'er care
(Though by their will it otherwise had beene)
They neither will be knowne at home, nor seene:
Which doth not onely shew impiety,
But hindereth love, and barres societie.

Yet now the greatest weakenesse that I finde
To be in man, is ignorance of minde:
It makes a poore man, hee's scarce good for ought;
If rich men have it, they are worse than nought.
For having riches store and wanting might
Or strength of minde to use the same aright,
'Tis Arrogancies and Ambitions fuel,
It makes them Covetous, Inconstant, Cruell,
Intemperate, Vnjust and wondrous heady:
Yea, in their actions rude, and so unsteady
They cannot follow any sound direction
But are still carried with a wild affection:
This is their nature; (it is quickly noted)
If they to honour be by hap promoted,
Then they grow insolent beyond all reason,
Apt for Ambition, Quarrels, Murthers, Treason,
Or any villany that followes those
Who doe the summe of happinesse repose
In worldly glory. But if Fortune frowne,
And from her fickle wheele once cast them downe;
Then their dejected hearts againe grew base,
They are impatient of their present case,
Rave or run mad, and can doe nought poore Elves,
Vnlesse it be goe hang or drowne themselves.

201

Moreover, the same weakenesse that proceeds
From ignorance this mischiefe also breeds;
It makes men well conceited of their will,
Which they will follow be it ne'er so ill:
And they thinke all things needs must fall out bad
Wherein their wise advise must not be had.
But here's the hell; to them all counsell's vain,
Cause they all others wisedome do disdain,
And wholly on their own devises rest,
As men perswaded that their owne are best.

But, as all such are weake, e'en so I say
Is every one that rashly doth repay
Vengeance in anger: Or that's male-content
Oft, or oft moved and impatient;
Or those that judge of counsels by th' event;
Or that perswade themselves, if their intent
Be good and honest that it doth not skill
Although the matter of it selfe be ill;
Which were it true, then David might complaine,
That Vzzah for his good intent was slaine.

Others againe thinke superstitious Rites
To be the service wherein God delights:
But sith I'me forc'd my minde of them to speake,
I must needs say their judgements are but weake.
The like I must of them who dis-esteeme
All former customes, and doe onely deeme
Their owne praise-worthy: As also such as doe
Thinke those things best they cannot reach unto;
Yet in the Vulgar this weake humor's bred:
They'l sooner be with idle customes led,
Or fond opinions (such as they have store)
Than learne of reason or of Vertues lore.

We thinke that we are strong; but what alas
Is there that our great might can bring to passe?

202

Sith though we thereto bend e'en all our will,
We neither can be good nor wholly ill.
God gives us needfull blessings for to use them;
Which wanting power to doe, we oft abuse them.

Some hold them wise and vertuous that possesse
An Heremitall solitarinesse:
But it proceeds from Imbicility;
And for because through Non-ability,
Those things they cannot well indure to doe,
Which they indeed should be inur'd unto
Besides they wrong their Country and their Friends;
For Man (saith Tully's) borne to other ends
Than for to please himselfe: a part to have
The Common-wealth doth look; and Parents crave
A part; so doe his friends. Then deales he well,
That closely mew'd up in a carelesse Cell
Keepes all himselfe? and for a little ease,
Can in his conscience find to rob all these?
I say he's weak, and so again I must;
But adde withall, he's slothfull and unjust.

Then as he's vain that precious time doth spend
In fond and idle pleasure to no end:
So are those weake that with contempt disdain
All pleasure and delight on earth as vain;
And though they would be zealous thought, & wise,
I shall but count them foolishly precise:
For man hath cares and pleasures mixt withall
Are needfull; yea, both just and naturall.
We are no Angels, that our recreation
Consist should only in meere contemplation:
But we have bodies too, of whose due pleasure,
The soules must find sometimes to be at leasure,
For to participate. But in this kind,
Though some find fault we are not much behind.

203

Then 'tis through humane weaknes, when that we
Of a good turn will soon forgetfull be;
And readier to revenge a small offence,
Than for that good to make a recompence.
And so 'tis also when that we eschew,
Or shun them unto whom from us is due
Both love and money: this, because their own;
Th' other, 'cause friendship at our need was shown.
But 'tis well seen there's many so abhor
To be in presence with their Creditor,
That (thanklesse Elves) though he be stil their friend,
They rather would desire to see his end.

Hee's weak too, that's not able to withstand
Any unlawfull or unjust demand:
As well as he that knows not to denie
Servingmens kindnesse, or Pot-curtesie.

Some simple fellows, 'cause that silken-Fools
(Who had their bringing up in Bacchus schools)
In shew of love but deign to drink unto them,
Think presently they such a favour do them,
That though they feel their stomack well-nigh sick,
Yet if to pledge these kinde-ones they should stick,
Or for a draught, or two or three refuse them,
They think in conscience they should much abuse thē

Nay, there be some, and wisemen you would think
That are not able to refuse their drink,
Through this their weaknes, though that they be sure
Tis more than their weak stomacks can endure.
And why? Oh 'tis the health of some great Peere,
His Masters, or his Friends he counteth deare.
What then? if so the party vertuous be,
Hee'l not esteem of such a foolery;
If not, who e'ert be, this is my minde still,
A straw for's love, his friendship, or good-will.

204

Some muse to see those that have knowledge gain'd,
And to degrees of Art in Schooles attain'd,
Should have opinions stuft with heresie,
And in their actions such simplicity
As many have. At first, without a pause,
As meere a boy as I, may tell the cause:
Is't not the reason their acquired parts
And knowledge they have reach'd unto by Arts,
Is growne a match too great and farre unfit
For to be joyned with their naturall wit?
'Tis so: and they instead of rightfull using,
Draw from their learning errors by abusing.
Plaine reason shewes, and every man that's wise
Knowes, though that Learning be a dainty prize,
Yet if that fate with such a weakling place it,
Who hath no helps of Nature for to grace it,
Of one whose proper knowledge is so small
Hee is beholding to his booke for all;
It onely breeds (unlesse it be some Treasons)
Crippled opinions and prodigious Reasons:
Which being favour'd, bring, in the conclusion;
Publike dissentions, or their owne confusion.
For I may liken learning to a Shield,
With a strong Armour, lying in a field
Ready for any man that hath the wit
To take it up, and arme himselfe with it.
Now if he be a man of strength and might,
That happens on that furniture to light,
He may doe wonders; As offend his foe,
And keepe himselfe and his from overthrow:
But if a weake and feeble man should take
These instruments of Mars, what would they make
For his advantage? Surely I should gather
They would goe neere to overthrow him rather:

205

For they would load him so, a man more strong,
Although he be unarm'd, may do him wrong.
So he that is depriv'd of natures gifts,
With all his learning, maketh harder shifts,
Through his own weaknesse, and incurs more shames
Than many that want art to write their names.

We have some fellows that would scorn to be
Tearm'd weak I know, especially by me,
Because they see that my ungentle fate
Allow'd me not to be a Graduate;
Yet whatsoever they will say unto it,
For all their scorning I am like to do it.
And to be briefe, they are no simple fools,
But such as have yauld Ergo in the Schooles;
Who being by some men of Worship thought
Fit men by whom their children may be taught,
And learn'd enough, for that they are allow'd
The name of Teachers; whereof growing proud,
Because (perhaps) they heare that now and then
They are admir'd at by the Servingmen;
Or else by reason something they have said,
Hath been applauded by the Chamber-maid;
They thereupon suppose that no man may
Hold any thing for truth but what they say:
And in discourse their tongues so much will walk,
You may not heare a man of reason talk;
They are halfe Preachers; if your question be
Of matters that concern Divinity.
If it be Law, Ile warrant they'l out-face
A dozen Ploydens to maintain their case:
But if it be of Physick you contend,
Old Galen and Hypocrates may send
For their opinion; nay, they dare prosesse
Knowledge in all things, though there's none know lesse:

206

Now I should wonder they prevail'd so much
Did not the Common-people favour such;
But they are known, although their verdit passes,
Proud Dogmatists, and selfe-conceited Asses;
Whom I may term (though I cannot out-scold them)
Weak simple fools, and those that do uphold them.

Moreover, some (but foolishly precise,
And in my judgement far more weak than wise)
Mis-judge of Poetrie, as if the same
Did worthily deserve reproach and blame:
If any Book in verse they hap to spie,
Oh, out upon't, away, prophane, they cry;
Burn't, read it not, for sure it doth contain
Nothing but fables of a lying brain;
All-asse take heed, indeed it oft pollutes
The outside of thy false-vain-glorious-sutes:
And to the blinded people makes it plain,
The colour thou so counterfeits will stain.

Because we see that men are drunk with Wine,
Shall we contemne the liquor of the Vine?
And sith there's some that do this Art misuse,
Wilt therefore thou the Art it selfe abuse?
'Twere meer injustice: For Divinity
Hath with no Science more affinity
Than this; and howsoe'er this scruple rose,
Rime hath exprest as sacred things as Prose;
When both in this age and in former time,
Prose hath bin ten-times more profane than Rime.

But they say still that Poetry is lies
And fables; such as idle heads devise;
Made to please fools: but now we may by this
Perceive their weaknesse plainly what it is:
Yea, this both weak and ignorant doth prove them,
In that they'l censure things that are above them:

207

For if that worthy Poets did not teach
A way beyond their dull conceited reach,
I think their shallow wisdomes would espie,
A Parable did differ from a Lie.
Yea, if their judgement be not quite bereft;
Or if that they had any reason left,
The precious Truthes within their Fables wrapt,
Had not upon so rude a censure hapt.

But though that kinde of teaching some dispraise,
As there's few good things lik't of now adaies:
Yet I dare say, because the Scriptures show it,
The best e'er taught on earth taught like a Poet:
And whereas Poets now are counted base,
And in this worthlesse age in much disgrace;
I of the cause cannot refrain to speak;
And this it is; Mens judgements are grown weak,
They know not true desert; for if they did,
Their well-deservings could not so be hid.

And sure if there be any doth despise
Such as they are, it is cause he envies
Their worthinesse, and is a secret foe
To every one that truely learnes to know:
For of all sorts of men, her's my beliefe,
The Poet is most worthy and the chiefe.
His Science is the absolut'st and best,
And deserves honour above all the rest;
For 'tis no humane knowledge gain'd by Art,
But rather 'tis inspir'd into the heart
By Divine meanes; and I do muse men dare
Twixt it and their professions make compare.
For why should he that's but Philosopher,
Geometrician, or Astrologer,
Paysitian, Lawyer, Rhetorician,
Historian, Arithmetician,

208

Or some such like; why should he (having found
The means but by one art to be renown'd)
Compare with him that claims to have a part
And interest almost in every Art?
And if that men may adde unto their name,
By one of these an everlasting fame,
How much more should it unto them befall,
That have not onely one of these, but all,
As Poets have? For do but search their works
And you shall finde within their writtngs lurks
All knowledge; if they undertake
Of Divine matters any speech to make,
You'll think them Doctors. If they need to tell
The course of Starres, they seem for to excell
Great Ptolomey; intend they to perswade,
You'l think that they were Rhetoricians made.

What Law, what Physick, or what History
Can these not treat of? Nay, what Mysterie
Are they not learn'd in? If of Trades they write,
Have they not all their tearmes and words as right
As if they had serv'd an Apprentiship?
Can they not name all tools for Workmanship?
We see 'tis true. If once he treat of Warres,
Of cruell bloudy fraies, of wounds, of scarres;
Why then he speaks so like a Souldier there,
That he hath been begot in armes thou'lt sweare.
Again, he writes so like a Navigator,
As if he had serv'd Neptune in the water;
And thou wouldst think he might of travell make
As great a volume as our famous Drake.
Old Proteus and Vertumnus are but Apes
Compar'd to these for shifting of their shapes;
There is no humorous Passion so strange,
To which they cannot in a moment change:

209

Note but their Dramaticks and you shall see
They'l speak for every sex, for each degree,
And in all causes; as if they had been
In every thing, or at least all things seen.
If need be they can like a Lawyer prate,
Or talk more gravely like a man of State;
They'l have a Tradesmans tongue to praise their ware,
And counterfeit him right (but they'l not sweare.)
The curioust Physitians (if they please)
Shall not coyne words to give their Patient ease
So well as they; and if occasion urge,
They'l Choler, yea and Melancholy purge,
Onely with Charmes and words; and yet it shall
Be honest means, and meerely naturall:
Are they dispos'd to gossip't like a woman,
They'l shew their tricks so right, that almost no man
But would so think them: Virgins that are purest,
And Matrons that make shew to be demurest,
Speak not so like chast Cynthia as they can,
Nor Newbery so like a Curtezan.
They'l give words either fitting for a Clown,
Or such as shall not unbeseem a Crown.
In shew they will be cholerick, ambitious,
Desperate, jealous, mad, or envious;
In sorrow, or in any Passion be;
But yet remain still from all Passions free:
For they have onely to this end exprest them,
That men may see them plainer, and detest them.

But some will say that these have on the Stage
So painted out the vices of this Age,
That it not onely tells that they have bin
Experienc'd in every kinde of sin;
But that it also doth corrupt and show
How men should act those sinnes they did not know.

210

Oh hatefull saying! not pronounc'd by chance,
But spew'd out of malicious ignorance.
Weigh it, and you will either think these weak,
Or say that they do out of envy speak.
Can none declare th' effect of Drunkennesse,
Vnlesse they used such like beastlinesse?
Are all men ignorant what comes by Lust,
Excepting those that were themselves unjust?
Or think they no man can describe a sin,
But that which he himselfe hath wallowed in?

If they suppose so, I no cause can tell,
But they may also boldly say as well
They are Apprentises to every Trade,
Of which they finde they have descriptions made;
Or else because they see them write those things
That do belong to Rule, best say th' are Kings:
As though that sacred Poesie inspir'd
No other knowledge than might be acquir'd
By the dull outward sense; yes, this is she
That shows us not alone all things that be,
But by her power laies before our view,
Such wondrous things as Nature never knew.

And then whereas they say that men are worse
By reading that these write, 'tis their own curse;
For, is the flower faulty cause we see
The loathsome Spider, and the painfull Bee
Make divers use on't? No, it is the same
Vnto the Spider, though she cannot frame
Like sweetnesse as the Bee thence. But indeed
I must confesse that this bad age doth breed
Too many that without respect presume
This worthy title on them to assume,
And undeserv'd; base fellows, whom meer time
Hath made sufficient to bring forth a Rime.

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A Curtain Iigge, a Libell, or a Ballet,
For Fidlers or some Rogues with staffe and wallet
To sing at doores: men onely wise enough,
Out of some rotten-old-worm-eaten stuffe
To patch up a bald witlesse Comedy,
And trim it here and there with ribauldry
Learn'd at a Bawdy-house? I say there's such,
And they can never be disgrac'd too much.
For though the name of Poet such abuses,
Yet they are enemies to all the Muses,
And dare not sort with them for feare they will
Tumble them headlong down Parnassus hill.

Why then should their usurping of it, wrong
That title which doth not to them belong?
And wherefore should the shame of this lew'd crew
Betide them unto whom true honour's due?
It shall not, for how ere they use the name,
Their works will shew how they do merit fame;
And though it be disgrac'd through ignorance,
The generous will Poesie advance,
As the most antique Science that is found,
And that which hath been the first root and ground
Of every Art; yea, that which onely brings
Content, and hath been the delight of Kings.
Great Iames our King both loves and lives a Poet,
(His books now extant do directly show it)
And that shall adde unto his worthy name
A better glory, and a greater fame
Than Britains Monarchie; for few but he
(I think) will both a King and Poet be;
And for the last, although some fools debase it,
Ime in the minde that Angells do imbrace it:
And though God giv't here but in part to some,
All shall have't perfect in the World to come.

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This in defence of Poesie to say
I am compell'd, because that at this day
Weaknesse and Ignorance have wrong'd it sore:
But what need any man therein speak more
Than Divine Sidney hath already done?
For whom (though he deceas'd e'er I begun)
I have oft sighed and bewaild my fate,
That brought me forth so many yeares too late
To view that Worthy; And now think not you
Oh Daniel, Drayton, Iohnson, Chapman, how
I long to see you, with your fellow Peers,
Sylvester matchlesse, glory of these yeares:
I hitherto have onely heard your fames,
And know you yet but by your Works and Names:
The little time I on the earth have spent,
Would not allow me any more content:
I long to know you better, that's the truth,
I am in hope you'l not disdain my Youth:
For know, you Muses-Darlings, Ile not crave
A fellowship amongst you for to have:
Oh no; for though my ever-willing heart
Hath vow'd to love and praise You and your Art,
And though that I your stile do now assume,
I do not, nor I will not so presume;
I claime not that too-worthy name of Poet;
It is not yet deserv'd by me, I know it:
Grant me I may but on your Muses tend,
And be enrol'd their Servant, or their Friend;
And if desert hereafter worthy make me,
Then for a Fellow (if it please you) take me.

But yet I must not here give off to speak,
To tell men wherein I have found them weak,
And chiefly those which cannot brook to heare
Mention of death, but with much griefe and feare:

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For many are not able once to take
That thought into them, but their Soules will quake.

Poore feeble spirits, would you ne'er away,
But dwell for ever in a piece of clay?
What finde you here wherein you do delight,
Or what's to seeing that is worth the sight?
What? do the heavens thy endeavours blesse,
And wouldst thou therefore live still to possesse
The joy thou hast? Seek't not; perhaps to morrow
Thou'lt wish t'have di'd to day to scape the sorrow
Thou then shalt see: for shame take stronger hearts,
And adde more courage to your better parts:
For death's not to be fear'd, sith 'tis a friend
That of your sorrows makes a gentle end.

But here a quality I call to minde,
That I amongst the common people finde;
This 'tis, a weak one too; When they perceive
A Friend ne'er death, and ready for to leave
This wretched life; and if they heare him say
Some parting words, as if he might not stay,
Nay, say not so (these Comforters reply)
Take heart, your time's not come, ye shall not die:
What man, and grace of God you shall be stronger,
And live no doubt yet many a fair day longer;
Think not on death; With many such like words,
Such as their understanding best affords:
But where is now become this peoples wit?
What do their knowledges esteem more fit
Than death to think on? chiefly when men be
About to put off their mortalitie.
Me thinks they rather should perswade them then
Fearelesse to be resolv'd to die like men:
For, want of such a resolution stings
At point of death; and dreadfull horrour brings

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E'en to the Soule; cause wanting preparation,
She lies despairing of her own salvation.
Yea, and moreover this full well know I
He that's at any time afraid to die,
Is in weak case; and whatsoe'er he saith,
Hath but a wavering and a feeble faith.

But what need I go further to relate
The frailty I have seen in Mans estate?
Sith this I have already said makes cleare,
That of all creatures God hath placed here,
(Provided we respect them in their kinde)
Wee cannot any more unable finde;
For of our selves we have not power to speak,
No, nor to frame a thought we are so weak.
Against our bodies every thing prevailes,
And oft our knowledge and our judgement fails:
Yea, if that one mans strength were now no lesse
Than all men do in generall possesse;
Or if he had attain'd to ten times more
Than all Gods creatures joyn'd in one before;
Yet would his power be ev'n then so small
When he stands surest hee's but sure to fall.

'Tis onely weaknesse that doth make us droop,
And unto crosses and diseases stoop;
That makes us vain, inconstant, and unsure,
Vnable any good things to endure:
It brings us to the servile base subjection
Of all loose passion and untam'd affection:
It leads us and compells us oft to stray
Both bsiede truth, and out of Reasons way:
And lastly wee, and that because of this,
Either do nothing, or do all amisse.
Which being so we may with David then
Confesse that we are rather Wormes than Men.