 | The Anatomie of Hvmors |  |
2
THE ANATOMIE OF HVMORS.
[Thou earthly God, whose ouer-ruling hand]
Thou earthly God, whose ouer-ruling handThe Scepter swayes, and doth vnsheath the sword.
Now seruile Kingdomes stoupes at thy command?
Who dare controle thy vnrecalled word.
Thou with great glorie of thy triple crowne,
Erecks the good, and throwes the wicked downe.
11
[How blest is he whose happy dayes are spent]
How
blest is he whose happy dayes are spent
Far from the Court, and liues at home in ease:
It's onely he whose ritch with sweete content
And builds no nest on top of Cædar trees:
No storming strife, nor yet no Viprich kinde
Of treasons gilt, doth harbor in his minde.
Far from the Court, and liues at home in ease:
It's onely he whose ritch with sweete content
And builds no nest on top of Cædar trees:
No storming strife, nor yet no Viprich kinde
Of treasons gilt, doth harbor in his minde.
He eats that bread, which sweating labor yeelds,
With open doores, secure in his repose;
He walks alone, abroad on spatious fields,
Goe where he please, he needs not feare his foes:
He trades on that, which proud ambition brings,
And scornes the threatning terror of great Kings
With open doores, secure in his repose;
He walks alone, abroad on spatious fields,
Goe where he please, he needs not feare his foes:
He trades on that, which proud ambition brings,
And scornes the threatning terror of great Kings
I grudge to see when many a scurvie Clowne,
Of no desert triumphs, in their desire,
And from the top of Honor doth throwe downe
Heroyk spirits, presuming to aspire:
shame wher's thy blush? cā heauens contēt with this
To see good Kings, deceaued with Judas kis.
Of no desert triumphs, in their desire,
And from the top of Honor doth throwe downe
Heroyk spirits, presuming to aspire:
shame wher's thy blush? cā heauens contēt with this
To see good Kings, deceaued with Judas kis.
Thou hellish Court where cut-throat flattrie dwels,
Where simple trueth no kinde of shailter findes,
Where baser mindes, with pride and enuy swels
Where rueling hearts are like inconstont winds,
Where Forton blinde playes to a poultrons chance,
And makes deceat in glittring robs to dance.
Where simple trueth no kinde of shailter findes,
Where baser mindes, with pride and enuy swels
Where rueling hearts are like inconstont winds,
Where Forton blinde playes to a poultrons chance,
And makes deceat in glittring robs to dance.
You painted snakes, whose bitter poysning gall,
With want of pittie, plagues the poore mans purse,
Gaiping damnation, doth attend you all,
With want of pittie, plagues the poore mans purse,
Gaiping damnation, doth attend you all,
[19]
[Sweet louely flower, in gallant flourish faire]
Fronte Capelata est
Sed post Ocasio Calua.
Sed post Ocasio Calua.
Sweet louely flower, in gallant flourish faire
Whilst beautie's pray'd, doth youthfull fields decore,
Take time in time, for time in time is rare,
Once past and gone, it neuer comes no more,
Than take this time, so long as it's in store,
And hunt not toyes, to perrill thy estate:
Wise may thou be, but yet be wise before
Thou shall repent, and then it is to late:
Deere friend beleeue, I wish thy sad annoyes,
Times altring Fates may turne them all in joyes.
[O that I might, then should I liue content]
O that I might, then should I liue content,And not complaine on Fortunes wotthlesse worth:
Whats gone let goe, it's I must needes repent,
Whilst silence sad, my sorrowes shall set forth:
20
I smile, but none can Iudge my inward smart.
[Whilst I did hazard, for vncertaine toyes]
Si ingratum dixeris omnia dixeris.
Whilst
I did hazard, for vncertaine toyes
Vaine flatt'ring hope, expeld my present feares:
O haplesse I, who for momentall joyes
Must pay long paine with sad repenting teares.
Vaine flatt'ring hope, expeld my present feares:
O haplesse I, who for momentall joyes
Must pay long paine with sad repenting teares.
This inward griefe my burthened soule now beares
With outward shew I striue to make it light:
But when the course of by-past time compeares,
And Tragick-like out-spreads before my sight.
Euen then I giue my rigours rage all right,
With passion strange, transported here and there,
I spend the day and wast the wearying night,
Imparting plaints vnto the idle aire.
O what remedie, time past hath no remorse,
Then must I needes endure this paine perforce.
With outward shew I striue to make it light:
But when the course of by-past time compeares,
And Tragick-like out-spreads before my sight.
Euen then I giue my rigours rage all right,
With passion strange, transported here and there,
I spend the day and wast the wearying night,
Imparting plaints vnto the idle aire.
O what remedie, time past hath no remorse,
Then must I needes endure this paine perforce.
[32]
[Can not thy eyes, the eyes of man command]
Can not thy eyes, the eyes of man command:Hath not thy face sufficient force to kill,
But that thou must vngloue thy juorie hand,
Whose beautie robs proud Cupid of his skill:
So with thy hand thou shootes Cupidous darts,
And shootes at naught but at poore Lovers harts.
33
[Some Martiall men bewitch'd with beautie rare]
Some
Martiall men bewitch'd with beautie rare,
Are intricate in Laborinths of Loue:
And forc'd to trie in fancies flatt'ring snare,
What sweet-mixt-sowre or pleasing paines can proue.
Are intricate in Laborinths of Loue:
And forc'd to trie in fancies flatt'ring snare,
What sweet-mixt-sowre or pleasing paines can proue.
Then Nymph-like-she with strange inticing looke
Doth so enchant the gallant minded men,
The bayte still hides the poyson of the hooke
Till they be fast, and thus betray'd, what then?
Doth so enchant the gallant minded men,
The bayte still hides the poyson of the hooke
Till they be fast, and thus betray'd, what then?
Poore captiue slaues in bondage prostrate lies,
Yeelding vnto her mercie-wanting-will:
She in disdaine scornes all their carefull-cries,
And Circes-like triumphes in learned skill.
Yeelding vnto her mercie-wanting-will:
She in disdaine scornes all their carefull-cries,
And Circes-like triumphes in learned skill.
With ambling trips of beauties gorgeous grace,
Aurora-like in firie colours clad,
And with bright reflex of her fairest face,
She tempting goes with brainsick humors lad.
Aurora-like in firie colours clad,
And with bright reflex of her fairest face,
She tempting goes with brainsick humors lad.
Fearing that if she should but looke below,
Then Beames would from her burning eyes descend
On Juorie brest proud swelling hils of snow
Would melt, consume, and all their beauty spend.
Then Beames would from her burning eyes descend
On Juorie brest proud swelling hils of snow
Would melt, consume, and all their beauty spend.
[34]
And so she lets her curled lockes downe fall,
Which doe allure the gentle cooling winde
To come and play, still wrapping vp in thrall
Chaines of her haire, fond Louers hearts to binde.
Which doe allure the gentle cooling winde
To come and play, still wrapping vp in thrall
Chaines of her haire, fond Louers hearts to binde.
Beautie in prime adorn'd doth feede the sight
From crimson lips sweet Nectars gust forth flowes
Odours perfumes the breath, not Natures right
White Iuorie hands a sacred touch bestowes.
From crimson lips sweet Nectars gust forth flowes
Odours perfumes the breath, not Natures right
White Iuorie hands a sacred touch bestowes.
And when those pearle of Orientall-rankes
With treasure rich of tempting sound deuides
From two bright daintie mouing-corall-bankes
In-circkled eares calme smoothing speeches slides.
With treasure rich of tempting sound deuides
From two bright daintie mouing-corall-bankes
In-circkled eares calme smoothing speeches slides.
Each sencelesse sence on doting pleasure fast
Doth in a carelesse Register inroule:
Wishing that course of swift-wing'd Time to last,
Which spots the spotlesse substance of the soule.
Doth in a carelesse Register inroule:
Wishing that course of swift-wing'd Time to last,
Which spots the spotlesse substance of the soule.
But oh behold, Nature in mourning weede
Weepes to be wrong'd with superstitious Art,
For what can braines of rare inuention breede?
Or what's vnsought which pleasure may impart?
Weepes to be wrong'd with superstitious Art,
For what can braines of rare inuention breede?
Or what's vnsought which pleasure may impart?
The sharpest wit whose quicke deceauing still
Makes restlesse musing of their minde to trie
Uaine trifling snares, mixtur'd with Magicks skill,
So Art adds that which Nature doth denie.
Makes restlesse musing of their minde to trie
Uaine trifling snares, mixtur'd with Magicks skill,
So Art adds that which Nature doth denie.
35
And thus much more sweet Syrens songs she sounds,
To charme, conjure, and tempt his listning eare:
Oh, then the poore Captiued wretch abounds
In peruerse vowes, and monstrous oathes to sweare.
To charme, conjure, and tempt his listning eare:
Oh, then the poore Captiued wretch abounds
In peruerse vowes, and monstrous oathes to sweare.
By furious force of Fancie more than mad,
With fond desire in restlesse course he hunts:
Blinde Loue can not discerne the good from bad,
When on the eye-plum'd tayle of pride it mounts.
With fond desire in restlesse course he hunts:
Blinde Loue can not discerne the good from bad,
When on the eye-plum'd tayle of pride it mounts.
The curious minde makes choise of good or ill,
Then scales the Fort of his Engine to clym
Aboue the top of Art exceeding skill,
Perfect in that predominates in him.
Then scales the Fort of his Engine to clym
Aboue the top of Art exceeding skill,
Perfect in that predominates in him.
Drunke with the wonders of a worthlesse worth,
From prospect of a looking-glasse he takes
Strange Apish trickes to set his folly forth,
Mock'd with the gesture that his shadow makes.
From prospect of a looking-glasse he takes
Strange Apish trickes to set his folly forth,
Mock'd with the gesture that his shadow makes.
When foolish feates no waies will serue his turne,
All hope is drown'd in despaires groundlesse deepe:
In restlesse bed (he martir'd man) must mourne,
Thoughts, sighes, and teares admit no kind of sleepe.
All hope is drown'd in despaires groundlesse deepe:
In restlesse bed (he martir'd man) must mourne,
Thoughts, sighes, and teares admit no kind of sleepe.
Thus layes the Conquest Conquerour of fields
On his hurt heart he caries Cupids skarre.
The scuruie fainting Coward basely yields
To idle Loue the enemie of warre.
On his hurt heart he caries Cupids skarre.
The scuruie fainting Coward basely yields
To idle Loue the enemie of warre.
[36]
Now Trumpets sound, braue Martiall musick turnes
To fidling noise, or else some am'rous song,
That glorious Fame her wings of worth now burnes,
When golden youth in prime must suffer wrong.
To fidling noise, or else some am'rous song,
That glorious Fame her wings of worth now burnes,
When golden youth in prime must suffer wrong.
Thus gallant sprights doe quintesence their wits,
Spending the rare invention of their braines
On idle toyes, at which high honor spits,
Nor memoriz'd memorials remaines.
Spending the rare invention of their braines
On idle toyes, at which high honor spits,
Nor memoriz'd memorials remaines.
37
[If haples, I had harbord in my heart]
If
haples, I had harbord in my heart
The festred sting of euer-tortring greefe,
Reuthles disdaine had neuer scornd my smart,
Nor I haue baisde my selfe to beg releefe:
But O, my Mistres, hath a womans minde,
Who loues her best, there proues she most vnkinde.
The festred sting of euer-tortring greefe,
Reuthles disdaine had neuer scornd my smart,
Nor I haue baisde my selfe to beg releefe:
But O, my Mistres, hath a womans minde,
Who loues her best, there proues she most vnkinde.
Doe what she can, O cruell faithles faire,
Be still ingrate, and neuer grant me grace:
For why? the proud triumph of my Despare
Hath lade my hopes before her slaughtring face:
There must they sterue, murthred with mis-regarde,
My Loue is loath'd, and I haue no rewarde.
Be still ingrate, and neuer grant me grace:
For why? the proud triumph of my Despare
Hath lade my hopes before her slaughtring face:
There must they sterue, murthred with mis-regarde,
My Loue is loath'd, and I haue no rewarde.
Then fare-well Loue, a woman is a toy,
Which being got, some other gets againe:
Curst be that man, whose jelousie is joy,
And yeelds him seruile to a Sluaish paine:
Who courts a woman, must not thinke it strange,
That want of wit, still makes her minde to change.
Which being got, some other gets againe:
Curst be that man, whose jelousie is joy,
And yeelds him seruile to a Sluaish paine:
Who courts a woman, must not thinke it strange,
That want of wit, still makes her minde to change.
O man whom GOD his cheefest wonder made,
And Treasure ritch of his al-seeing Eye,
The winter blast, thy floorish fare shall fade:
Swift-posting-time, still tels thee you must dye:
In fansies lap spend not thy dayes for shame,
Go spend thy dayes where honour liues with fame.
And Treasure ritch of his al-seeing Eye,
The winter blast, thy floorish fare shall fade:
Swift-posting-time, still tels thee you must dye:
[38]
Go spend thy dayes where honour liues with fame.
Then get you gone, sweet Syrins of deceat,
Full well I knowe your strange inchanting skill:
I scorne that Coward of a base conceat,
That Pandor-like waits on a womans will:
O let him dye deceaud, that will not doubt you,
And happiest he, who best can liue without you.
Full well I knowe your strange inchanting skill:
I scorne that Coward of a base conceat,
That Pandor-like waits on a womans will:
O let him dye deceaud, that will not doubt you,
And happiest he, who best can liue without you.
59
[The mal-content hunts Fortune here and there]
The
mal-content hunts Fortune here and there,
His euer-tortring-thoghts disturbs his braine,
Till all his hopes be drown'd in deepe despare,
Then Time tels him his travels are in vaine.
O earthly-wretch, what glory canst thou gaine?
When fruteles-labor-thy short life hath spent:
A restles minde with stil-tormenting paine,
Even whom a world of worlds could not content.
His euer-tortring-thoghts disturbs his braine,
Till all his hopes be drown'd in deepe despare,
Then Time tels him his travels are in vaine.
O earthly-wretch, what glory canst thou gaine?
When fruteles-labor-thy short life hath spent:
A restles minde with stil-tormenting paine,
Even whom a world of worlds could not content.
Frō such base thoghts heavens make my heart aspire,
And with a sweete contentment crowne desire.
And with a sweete contentment crowne desire.
61
[It's true indeede this age is very strange]
It's
true indeede this age is very strange,
For why? behold great men of ritch renowne,
Time comes by turnes with vnexpected change,
And from their Tower of pride doth pull them downe:
Then what are we? but fooles of selfe-conceate,
All what we haue stands in a stag'ring state.
For why? behold great men of ritch renowne,
Time comes by turnes with vnexpected change,
And from their Tower of pride doth pull them downe:
Then what are we? but fooles of selfe-conceate,
All what we haue stands in a stag'ring state.
Wee weeping come into this world of cares,
And all our life's but battels of distresse,
Scarse is our prime when wint'ring age declares
What weightie griefe our body doth oppresse,
Bred with sinne, borne with woe, our life is paine,
Which still attends vs to our Graue againe,
And all our life's but battels of distresse,
Scarse is our prime when wint'ring age declares
What weightie griefe our body doth oppresse,
Bred with sinne, borne with woe, our life is paine,
Which still attends vs to our Graue againe,
Then earthly slime wherein consists thy pride?
Sith all thy glory goes into the ground,
That bed of wormes wherein thou shalt abide,
Thy fairest face most filthy shall be found:
Our sunne-shine joyes, time swiftly sweepes away,
This night we liue, and dies before the day.
Sith all thy glory goes into the ground,
[61]
Thy fairest face most filthy shall be found:
Our sunne-shine joyes, time swiftly sweepes away,
This night we liue, and dies before the day.
Homo natus de muliere breui tempore viuens
repletur multis miserijs.
| The Anatomie of Hvmors | |