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Natures Embassie

Or, The Wilde-mans Measvres: Danced naked by twelve Satyres, with sundry others continued in the next Section [by Richard Brathwait]

Brathwait, Richard (1588?-1673)

THE FIRST SATYRE. [OF DEGENERATION.]

THE SECOND SATYRE. [OF PLEASURE.]

THE THIRD SATYRE. [OF AMBITION.]

THE FOVRTH SATYRE. [OF VAINEGLORIE.]

THE FIFT SATYRE. [OF CRUELTIE.]

THE SIXT SATYRE. [OF ADULTERIE.]

THE SEVENTH SATYRE. [OF INCEST.]

THE EIGHT SATYRE. [OF BLASPHEMIE.]

THE NINTH SATYRE. [OF BEGGARIE.]

10.

THE TENTH SATYRE. [OF MISERIE.]

11.

THE ELEVENTH SATYRE. [OF HYPOCRISIE.]

12.

THE TWELFTH SATYRE. [OF EXCESSE.]

[conclusion]

A CONCLVSIVE ADMONITION TO THE READER.

HERE FOLLOWETH SOME EPYCEDES

I. ELEGIE. [NO LOVE LOST.]

II.

II. ELEGIE. [LOVE TO THE LAST.]

III.

III. ELEGIE. [LOVE STAIND WITH LVST.]

AN ELEGIE VPON THESE ELEGIES.

THE SECOND SECTION OF DIVINE AND MORALL SATYRES:

TO THE WORTHIE CHERISHER AND NOVRISHER OF ALL GENEROUS studies, S. W. C. Knight R. B. His affectionate Country-man wisheth the increase of all honour, health, and happinesse.

Vpon the Dedicatorie.

THE FIRST SATYRE. [OF SLOTH.]

THE SECOND SATYRE. [OF CORRUPTION.]

THE THIRD SATYRE. [OF ATHEISME.]

THE FOVRTH SATYRE. [OF SINGVLARITIE.]

THE FIFT SATYRE. [OF DOTAGE.]

THE SIXT SATYRE. [OF PARTIALITIE.]

THE SEVENTH SATYRE. [OF INGRATITVDE.]

THE EIGHTH SATYRE. [OF FLATTERIE.]

THE NINTH SATYRE. [OF EPICVRISME.]

10.

THE TENTH SATYRE. [OF BRIBERIE.]

11.

THE ELEVENTH SATYRE ELEGIACK. [OF INUENTION.]

12.

THE TWELFTH SATYRE. [OF DISDAINE.]

13.

THE THIRTEENTH SATYRE. [OF IDOLATRIE.]

Three other Satyres composed by the same Author, treating of these three distinct subiects.

THE SATYRE. [OF TYRANNIE.]

THE SATYRE. [OF SECVRITIE.]

THE SATYRE. [OF REVENGE.]

THE EMBLEME. [OF MORTALITIE.]

14.

[IN IVRIDICVM.] A short Satyre of a corrupt Lawyer.

Two short moderne Satyres.

[A Walking Hypocrite there was, whose pace]

[Drusus, what makes thee take no trade in hand]

An Admonition to the Reader vpon the precedent Satyres.

THE SHEPHEARDS TALES.

HIS PASTORALLS ARE HERE CONTINVED WITH THREE OTHER TALES; hauing relation to a former part, as yet obscured: and deuided into certaine Pastorall Eglogues, shadowing much delight vnder a rurall subiect.

THE FIRST EGLOGUE Corydons tale

The Argument.

The second Argument.

[section]

THE SECOND EGLOGVE Sapphus' tale

THE THIRD EGLOGUE Linus' tale

The Argument.

The second Argument.

[section]

The shepheards holy-day, reduced in apt measures to Hobbinalls Galliard, or Iohn to the May-pole.

[subsection]

[dedication]

OMPHALE,

A Poem describing the leuitie of a woman: reseruing all generous respect to the vertuously affected of that Sexe.

HIS ODES:

[Odes in straines of sorrow tell]

TO THE GENEROVS, INGENIOVS, AND IVDICIOVS Philalethist, Thomas Ogle Esquire: the succeeding issue of his diuinest wishes.

THE FALL OF THE LEAFE.

To my knowing and worthie esteemed friend Avgvstine Vincent, all meriting content.

BRITTANS BLISSE.

Vpon the worthie and sincere Proficients and Professants of the common Law; an Encomiastick Poem.

[Danc'd are my Measures, now I must repose]

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

Wilde men may dance wise measures; Come then ho,
Though I be wilde, my measures are not so.

[Section I.]

TO THE ACCOMPLISHED MIRROR OF TRVE worth, Sr. T. H. the elder, knight, professed fauorer and furtherer of all freeborne studies: continuance of all happinesse.

THE FIRST SATYRE. [OF DEGENERATION.]

Thou wicked lumpe in a deformed guise,
Tripping like Hymen on his wedding day,
Nature thy former Insolence defies,
Saying thou errest from her natiue way:
For all thy foolish wayes are baits to sin,
Where vertue droupes, and vice comes dancing in.

Doth not thy habite shewt by wanton mind,
Forward to all things but to vertuous life:
Passing those bounds which Nature hath assign'd,
Twixt Art and Nature by commencing strife?
I tell thee, Nature sends me to represse
Thy foolish toyes, thy inbred wantonnesse.

But thou wilt say, Nature hath made me faire,
Should I rob Beautie of her proper due?
Should I not decke her with embroidred haire,
And garnish her with Flora's vernant hue?
I must, I will, or else should I disgrace
With a rent maske the beautie of my face.

But I will answer thee for all thy beautie:
If thou wilt be an Ape in gay attire,
Thou doest not execute that forme of dutie,
Which Nature at thy hand seemes to require:
Which not redrest, for all thy goodly port,
Thou must be stript, and whipt, and chastisd for't.

Nature hath sent me to forewarne thy wo,
Lest thou secure of thy distresse, reioyce:
If thou wax proud, then where so ere thou go
Thou shalt decline: this resteth in thy choice,
Whether to die branded by Infamie,
Or to preserue thy life in memorie.

This thus obserued, wilt thou yet be proud?
And grow ambitious, bearing in thy brow
The stampe of honour, as if thou hadst vow'd
No grace on thy inferiours to bestow?
Proud minikin let fall thy plumes, and crie
Nature, I honour will thy Embassie.

It was a good time when Eue spun her threed,
And Adam digg'd to earne his food thereby:
But in this time Eues do their panches feed,
With daintie dishes mouing luxurie.
That was the golden age, but this is lead,
Where vice doth flourish, vertue lieth dead.

This therefore is my message pend by Truth,
Erected in the honour of Dame Nature,
Inueying gainst Pride, whose aspiring grouth
Disfigureth the beautie of the creature:
Thus haue I spoken that which Nature mou'd me,
Directed to thee, for Dame Nature lou'd thee.

THE SECOND SATYRE. [OF PLEASURE.]

Pandora the inchantresse.

Pandora, shall she so besot thy mind,
That nothing may remaine for good instruction?
Shall she thy mind in chaines and fetters bind,
Drawing thee onward to thy owne destruction?
Be not so foolish, lest thou be oretaken,
And in thy shipwracke liue as one forsaken.

For though that Nature which first framed thee,
Seeme to winke at thy crimes a day or two,
Yea many yeares, yet she hath blamed thee
For thy offences, therefore act no more.
Though she delay assure thee she will call,
And thou must pay both vse and principall.

She smileth at thy locks brayded with gold,
And in derision of thy selfe-made shape,
Who would beleeue (saith she) this is but mold,
Who trips the streets like to a golden Ape?
Nature concludes, that Art hath got the prize,
And she must yeeld vnto her trumperies.

For I haue seene (saith Nature) what a grace
Art puts vpon me, with her painted colour:
How she Vermillions ore my Maiden-face,

Now nought so faire, though nought before was fouler;
Indeed I am indebted to her loue,
That can giue mouelesse Nature meanes to moue.

Thou black-fac'd Trull, how dar'st thou be so bold,
As to create thy selfe another face?
How dar'st thou Natures feature to controle,
Seeking by Art thy former to disgrace?
By heauens I loath thee for thy Panthers skin,
Since what is faire without is foule within.

Indeed thou art ashamed of thy forme:
And why? because of beautie thou hast none;
Nay rather grace, by which thou may'st adorne
Thy inward part, which chiefly graceth one;
“Complaine of Nature (gracelesse) and despaire,
“Since she hath made thee foule, but others faire.

But yet thou wilt be faire, if painting may
Affoord thee grace and beautie in thy brow:
Yet what auailes this fondling? for one day
Painting will ceasse: though painting flourish now;
“Itch not then after fashions in request,
“But those that comeliest are, esteeme them best.

Yet for all this, I pittie thee poore soule,
In that Dame Nature hath not giuen thee beautie:
Hang downe thy head like to a desart Owle,
Performe in no case to her shrine thy dutie:
Vnto her altar vow no sacrifice,
Nor to her deitie erect thine eyes.

Thou hast good cause for to lament thy birth;
For none will court thee smiling at thy feature,
But prize thee as the refuse vpon earth,
Since on my faith thou art an vglie creature,
Yet ill wine's good when it is in the caske,
And thy face faire oreshadow'd with a maske.

O be contented, with thy forme, thy feature,
Since it is good enough for wormes repast,
Yeelding thy due vnto the shrine of Nature,
The fairest faire must yeeld to death at last!
Thinke on thy mould, and thou wilt seriously
Receiue the charge of Natures Embassie.

THE THIRD SATYRE. [OF AMBITION.]

Thou wicked Caitiffe proud of being nought,
Wilt thou prouoke thy God to strike thee down
Since he with care and labour hath thee sought,
And diuerse fauours in his mercy showne?
Do not draw downe the viols of his ire,
Lest he reward thy sinne with quenchlesse fire.

Thou sillie worme compact of slimie mud,
Which shalt returne to earth from whence thou came
Thou which conceiued was of corrupt bloud,
Thou wormlin, how dar'st thou reuile his name?
Farwell thou gracelesse Impe, thou saplesse branch,
Borne to contemne thy God, to cram thy panch.

Thou Epicure, that liv'st in liuing ill,
Liuing by louing to stretch forth thy gut,
Taking more pleasure thy deepe panch to fill,
Then in thy maker confidence to put:
Thou for thy feeding shalt receiue thy food,
Amongst such vipers as shall sucke thy bloud.

It is the nature of the viperous brood,
To be the author of their parents death;
Like an

Horse-leach.

Hyrudo they do sucke their bloud,
And take away that breath, which gaue them breath
Thou viperlike disclaimes thy parent's name,
As though to vtter him thou thought it shame.

Shame on thy naming, if thou wilt denie
Him, who first gaue thee breath and vitall spirit,

Him, who can giue thee true tranquillitie,
Him, who will shew thee meanes how to inherit;
Leaue off thy foolish fantasies, be wise,
Lift vp thy eyes to him who gaue thee eyes.

But if (vngratefull wretch) thou feele his grace,
Yet wilt not yeeld him thanks for all his loue,
Be sure he will auert his diuine face,
And all his wonted mercies cleane remoue;
So thou the swine that breakes the acorne-shell,
Regardest not the tree from whence they fell.

Be warn'd by Cæus, who with Giants power,
Thought with his fellowes to clime vp to heauen,
But vanquish'd by his power doth all deuoure,
Under the ruggie mountaines are laid euen,
Therefore beware, aspire thou not so high,
Lest thou lie low, where those same Grants ly.

Thou art a shadow, God the substance is,
Yet insubstantiate, whose Deitie
Doth comprehend all things, for all are his,
Yet he is not contain'd most certainely,
For he is infinite in qualitie,
Endlesse in loue, boundlesse in quantitie.

As for his presence, it is euery where,
On sea, on land, and in the depth of depths,
His prouidence in each place doth appeare,
His mercie is for generations kept,
Wilt thou (fond foole) contemne his heauenly power,
Who gouernes thee, point, moment, minute, houre.

What though so many will entice to euill,
And in plaine tearmes denie the Deitie?
Let them remaine as fuell for the diuell,
Confesse thou still his power effectually:
Looke in the Planets, and the starres, whose light,
Giues record of his power, signes of his might.

If thou looke vpward, bodies there be manie,
Yet trouble they not one anothers motion,
If thou looke downward, there the

Threatning earth with inundations, yet bounded in with her banks as with a girdle.

Sea doth moue thee,
Beating the shores, while shores beate backe the Ocean:
Looke to the earth, and thou wilt wonder there,
To see a Ball so firmely hang in Aire.

But if these motiues limit not thy will,
Then I'le endorse this in thy forlorne brow,
How with thine owne hand, thou thy bloud doest spill,
The fruites whereof thy punishment shall show.
Denie not him who neuer did deny,
For thy default vpon the Crosse to die.

THE FOVRTH SATYRE. [OF VAINEGLORIE.]

Thou happie Crœsus in thy heapes of gold,
Erect thy selfe a God vpon thy throne,
Let it be framed of a purer mold,
Then of the Pumice, or the marble stone:
Let it be honor'd euen in Crœsus name,
Since golden Crœsus did erect the same.

Wilt thou indeed, be honour'd for a god,
And with the starres aray thy Princely head?
Be sure ere long to feele an iron rod:
To crush thee downe, and thy accursed seede.
For if thou do denie thy God his right,
He will depriue thy power, abridge thy might.

Art thou a crauling worme, a feeble creature,
And yet dost thinke thy selfe a god on earth?
Canst thou so easily transforme thy nature:
Chang'd to immortall, from a mortall birth?
Poore simple gull, a cockhorse for this god,
No god but man, whose sinnes deserue Gods rod.

Star-staring earthling, puff'd with insolence,
Conceipted of thy selfe without desert,
Comparing with the Deuine excellence,
For which thy follie, thou shalt feele the smart;

Do not thinke God will suffer thee to raigne,
That sleights his workes, and takes his name in vaine.

And as for Crœsus, if he liue for aye,
Then will I thinke he is a god indeed:
But he ere long shall haue a dying day,
And be inclosed in an earthly weede.
Therefore fond Crœsus, thinke but of thy gold,
As rusticke people of the vilest mold.

Yet thou mayst

The difference betwixt the poore wanting, and rich not vsing, is by these two expressed, the one carendo, the other non fruendo.

vse it Crœsus, to thy good,
So thou repose no confidence therein,
So thou abuse it not, it is allow'd,
Abuse, not vse, is Author of the sinne.
Be not deceiu'd through any false pretence,
To hoord vp coine, and hurt thy conscience.

This is a simple traine, a net for fooles,
Not able to deceiue the wiser men.
Fishes be sooner catcht, in glistring pooles,
Then in a troubled creuise, marsh or fen,
But wisest fishes, neuer will appeare,
Where they perceiue the smallest cause of feare.

Thus is the forme of wisedome well explaned,
Euen in a Christall glasse most eminent,
Wherein our distinct natures are contained,
As in a Table aptly pertinent,
How that bewitch'd we are in seeming good,
And that prooues poyson which we tooke for food.

This is my Satyre, Crœsus which I send thee,
To th' end thou mayst admonish'd be of this;
I hope my Satyre will in time amend thee,
And draw thy mind from earth-opinion'd blisse.
Wherefore farewell, and if thou wilt be blessed,
Flie from this rust, by it thy mind's oppressed.

THE FIFT SATYRE. [OF CRUELTIE.]

Thou hellish brood, borne to thine owne offence,
Thou that wilt run into a streame of bloud,
Yet cries againe; It's in mine owne defence,
Hauing no care of vow-linckt brotherhood;
Be thou thine owne destroyer, thine owne foe,
And may thy conscience fret where ere thou goe.

What doest thou get, by getting of a crowne,
Deposing him, that is the lawfull heire?

But cares and feares, and sorrowes of thine owne,
With

As it is written of August: that he had broken sleepes and vsed to send for some to passe the night away in telling tales or holding him with talke. Tit. Liu. dec. 3.

gastly visions, motiues to despaire?
Lament thy raigne, dominions got by wrong,
May floure awhile, but last they cannot long.

Though Numitor depos'd be by his brother,
Fate hath her stroke, some Romulus will spring,
Or if not Romulus, there will some other
Depose his greatnesse, make himselfe a king.
Thus as he got his kingdome, shedding

As Mithridetes was said to plant his kingdome on an indirect foundation, Blood. Appian. Alexan,

bloud,
He of his bloudie purchase reapes small good.

Where Iurisdiction is obtain'd by might,
Without apparent right vnto the crowne,
Shall soone extinguish all her former light,
And change her forme like to the waining Moone.
For such vsurping kings as aime at all,
Shall misse their aime, and with their Scepter fall.

And thou Pigmalion, who art neuer fil'd,
But euer gapes for riches and for gold,
Till thou with might thy Brothers bloud hast spil'd,
Or till thy yauning mouth be stopt with mold,
Either repent thy wrong, or thou shalt heare,
A thousand Furies buzzing in thine eare.

Foolish Astyages that meanes to raigne,
And plant thy throne on earth eternally,
I tell thee (doting King) though thou disdaine,
Cyrus should raigne, he will part stakes with thee:
No, he'le haue all, thou art his subiect made,
And with his vine all Asia's shadowed.

Though thou do marry, and assure to wife,
Thy faire Mandanes, to a countrey

Cambyses.

squire,
That her meane marriage might secure thy life,
A king shall spring from such an homely sire.
It is in vaine to plot, when gods resist,
Who can defeate our proiects as they list.

What Polynices, wilt thou fight, with whom?
With thine owne brother deare Eteocles;
Will you contend, since you be both as one?

Brothers.

Cleon will neuer fight with Pericles;
Then why will you, the children of one sire,
Against each other mutually conspire?

Fie on you both, what sauage crueltie,
Hath thus possest you in your tender age,
Brother gainst brother most inhumanely,
To shew your selues as Men in beastly rage?
Farewell vngodly Twins, borne for debate,
When Ruine knocks, Repentance comes too late.

Farewell Astyages, that reignes for aye,
And thou Pigmalion, who do'st gape for wealth,
Amulius too, who learning to obay,
Perceiues how Realmes decline that's got by stealth.
Farewell, and if my tart lines chance to spite ye,
My Satyre sayes, A dead dog cannot bite me.

THE SIXT SATYRE. [OF ADULTERIE.]

What Clytemnestra, com'd so soone abroad,
Forth of Ægistus bed thy husbands foe!
What is the cause thou makest so short abode,
Is it because thy hush and wills thee so?
No it's because he's weary of thy sinne,
Which he once sought, but now is cloyed in.

What's that thou weares about thy downie necke?
O it's a painted heart, a Iewell fit,
For wanton Minions who their beauties decke,
With garish toyes, new Suiters to begit:
Thou hast a painted heart for chastitie,
But a true heart for thy adulterie.

Speake on Adultresse, let me heare thy tongue,
Canst varnish ore thy sin with eloquence?
Silence; such sinnes should make the sinner dumbe,
And force his speech to teare-swolne penitence;
Do not then shadow thy lasciuious deeds,
For which the heart of Agamemnon bleeds.

Leaue of (foule strumpet: keepe thy husbands bed,
Thou hast no interest in Ægistus sheetes:
Infamous acts, though closely done are spred,
And will be blaz'd and rumour'd in the streetes.
Flie from this scandall, lest it soile thy name,
Which blemisht once, is nere made good againe.

Is not thy husband worthy of thy loue?
Too worthy husband of a worthlesse whoore,
Then rather chuse to die then to remoue:
Thy chast-vowd steps from Agamemnons boore?
He's thine, thou his, O

Vsing the words of that chast Romane Matron: where thou art Caius, I am Caia.

may it then appeare,
Where ere he is, that thou art onely there.

But for Hyppolitus to be incited
By his step-mother, O incestuous!
And to his

Theseus.

fathers bed to be inuited:
What fact was euer heard more odious?
But see (chast youth) though she perswade him to it,
Nature forbids, and he's asham'd to do it.

The Application of the Morall.

You painted Monkies that will nere restraine,
Your hote desires from lusts-pursuing chase,
Shall be consumed in a quenchlesse flame,
Not reft of griefe, though you were reft of grace,

Bereft of grace, and buried in shame,
Regardlesse of your honour, birth, or name.

I can discerne you by your wanton toyes,
Your strutting like Dame Iuno in her throne,
Casting concealed fauours vnto boyes:
These common things are into habits growne,
And when you haue no fauours to bestow,
Lookes are the lures which draw affections bow.

Trust me I blush, to see your impudence,
Sure you no women are, whose brazen face,
Shewes modestie ha's there no residence,
Incarnate diuels that are past all grace;
Yet sometimes wheate growes with the fruitlesse tares,
You haue fallne oft, now fall vnto your prayers.

THE SEVENTH SATYRE. [OF INCEST.]

How now fond Tereus, whither rid'st so fast,
To Progne or to Itis? O, it's true,
Thou goest vnto thy sister, made vnchast,
By thy enforced rape, for she nere knew
What lusts-embraces meant, till thou hadst taught her,
Which gaue her cause of sorrowing euer after.

Come backe againe, go to thy chast wiues bed,
Wrong not the honour of a spotlesse wife,
What fruite yeelds lust when thou hast surfeted,
But wretched death, drawne from a wicked life?
Returne fond lustfull man, do not dishonour
Poore Phylomele, for heauens eyes looke on her.

It may be thou alledg'st, rusticity
Appeareth in the fashions of thy Deare;
Is this a cloake to liue licentiously?
No, if her breeding more vnciuill were,
These should not be occasions of thy shame,
For in discretion thou shouldst couer them.

Thou art that Rusticke, she the modest flower,
Not seeking for to grow with other plants
Then with thy selfe, though thou for euery boore,
Suites thy affection, yet affection wants:
She loues, thou lusts, thine is a borrowed name,
For shame-fast loue needs neuer blush for shame.

How now Prince Phineus, where's thy childrens eyes,
Are they put out, who mou'd thee to offend?
Was it Idæa, whom the gods defies?
Whom neither heauen nor earth can well commend.
It was Idæa, she the Step-dame cries,
Haste Phineus haste, pull out thy childrens eyes.

He'le do it for thee, there's no question why,
To faire Idæa, chast Queene to his bed,
He should the murdring of his soule deny,
Much lesse to cause his childrens bloud be shed;
See step-dames see, how hatefull is your guilt:
When to raise yours, anothers bloud is spilt!

Murder thy children, put out Orphans eyes,
God cannot salue their extreame heauinesse:
He cannot heare them when they make their cries,
Nor can he comfort them in their distresse.
Yes, he can heare and see, and though he come
With a slow pace, he will at last strike home.

Then grieue, but let not griefe driue to despaire;
Trust, but les Trust breed no securitie,
For crying sinnes when they presuming are,
Oft wound so deepe they find no remedie.

Farewell Idæa, may my Satyre heare,
For each bloud-drop th' ast shed, thou shedst a teare.

THE EIGHT SATYRE. [OF BLASPHEMIE.]

Now stout Caligula that dar'st the gods,
Saying, they must not frowne vpon thy pleasure,
Thou and immortall powers are still at odds,
Whose gold's thy god, whose deitie's thy treasure.
Thou'lt feele the smart hereof, when thy estate,
Founded on frailtie shall be ruinate.

Thou wilt not feare him while thou liues on earth,
Though life and power, and all be in his hand,
Thou'lt fight with him (poore worme) that giues thee breath,
And with the breath of flesh checke Ioues command.
Unhappie Prince, though thou the happiest seeme,
This reigne of thine is but a golden dreame.

And when this dreame is past, and thou awake,
From thy soule-charming slumber thou must on,

Taking thy iourney to the Stygian lake,
Or flame exhaling quenchlesse Phlegeton,
Where poysoned Adders shall infect thy tongue,
Which did so impiously her maker wrong.

Flie from the horror of thy damned soule,
For sure ere long thou shalt be punished.
See how thy soule deformed is and foule,
Soiled with sinne, with errours blemished.
O wash them then, some hope doth yet remaine,
But now vnwasht they'le nere be white againe!

Art not asham'd for to denie his power,
Who giueth life vnto each liuing thing?
To heauen, to earth, to sea, and to each flower,
He giueth meanes, for by him all things spring.
Who will not then, and knowing this, account
The earth's the Lords, and he's Lord Paramount?

Doest thou not see the fabricke of this earth,
And all the plants which flourish in their kind,
How by his power each creature bringeth forth,
As if indeed they knew their makers mind:
Where th' very earth-worme that's endu'd with sence,
Is not excluded from his

The very hedghog is not excluded from his prouidence. Aug.

prouidence?

Then leaue this damn'd opinion, Iulian,
Be not too confident of earthly rule:
Remember still thou art a mortall man,
And in his power who can the seas controule.
It's he can make this earths foundation shudder,
Whose Empires reach from one Sea to another.

Yet thou Caligula canst threat the gods,
If they descend but in a winters showre,
And saist in scorne, Thou'lt beate them with thy rods,
If they hold on, vpon thy games to lowre.
Yet cowardize constraines thee for to flie,
At euery flash, and like a Babe to crie.

Thou'lt menace death vnto Eternitie,
If they obey not thy imperious pleasure:
Thus gods themselues must feele thy tyrannie,
Enioynd to dance attendance at thy leysure:
Yet for all this, if thou but Thunder heares,
Thou pulls thy cap downe ore thy frighted eares.

So euery false Apostate will be stout,
Before he feele the Uiols of Gods wrath:
But when he tasts thereof he gins to doubt,
And calls to mind how he

But see, being in the way of doing well, shame holds him from the faith from which he fell.

forsooke his faith.
His fall from which, confessing with his tong,
His tongue is speaking, but his heart is dombe.

Dumbe shalt thou be, for heauen will haue it so,
Since thou appliest thy tongue to wickednesse,
Abusing that, gainst him who did bestow
All that thou hast, this's thy vnthankefulnes.
Yet but relent, and doubt not to obtaine,
That heauenly grace, which else thou canst not gaine.

Gracelesse beware, and feare the power of heauen,
Who can destroy thee in a minutes space,
He who can make, the steepest mountaines euen,
Whose footstoole's earth, & heauen his dwelling place.

Feare, gracelesse feare, and thou shalt liue for euer,
For feare giues life to death, health to the liuer.

Liue thou shalt neuer, if thou do not care
To shew respect to th' supreme Maiestie,
He whom we feare, who tenders our wel-fare,
And guides vs in this vale of miserie.
Pagan thou art, vnlesse thou do amend,
Whose endlesse sinnes expect a

Iulian and Fœlix had both miserable ends: while Iulian that impious Apostate continued in his blasphemie: Ecce quam sumptuosis vasis filio Mariæministratur! vid. Venerah. Bed. & lib.

wofull end.

Therefore as thou regardst thy sweete soules health,
Or honour of thy Maker, now reclaime
Thy breach of faith stain'd with the worlds filth,
If thou a sonne of Syon meanes to raigne.
Fare well or ill; if well thou meanes to fare,
Vnto the Temple of thy God repaire.

THE NINTH SATYRE. [OF BEGGARIE.]

Hyppeas, your cloake I craue, that is my due,
Your stockings too, and such like toyes as these,
Free to bestow a Bountie were in you,
And yet a debt, for you do know my fee's.
But Debt to mention I do think't vnfit,
When Bountie is so neare to answer it.

And yet I want, and yet what can I want,
When He of whom I craue's so prone to giue?
When store by Ioue is sent, there is no scant,
All famine leaue, and all in plentie liue.
See what thou wants then Minthos, and but craue it,
Hyppeus is stor'd, and thou art sure to haue it.

Belt, Beuer, Buskin, view from top to toe,
See what thou wants his Wardrope will supply,
And laugh at him when thou hast vs'd him so,
And bid him triumph in his victory.
Let him go nak'd, and boast what he hath doue,
Whilest thou enioyes the Booties he hath won.

The true description of a Parasite.

Yet tearme him Prince of bountie, and requite
In seeming Protestations, and in vowes,
Yet care not for him when he's out of sight;
For those thriue best who can make fairest shows:
In speaking much, but little as they meane,
And being such, but not the same they seeme.

I would I could, thus maist thou bring him on,
I could extend my wealth vnto my will,
I would erect to show what you haue done,
Some Time-outliuing Monument, to fill
The world with amazement, when they heare
What you haue bene, and what your actions were.

And then impart thy want, how fortunes are
Vnequally deuided, yet to such
As He whose Bountie giues to each his share,
Though much he hath, yet ha's he not too much:

And then with cap in hand beseech his worth,
Be good to thee, that's borne of obscure birth.

Indeed thou seemes to be an obscure Asse,
A spacious Beggar, begging euery where,
Who wilt not suffer a patcht boote to passe,
But thou wilt beg it for thy leg that's bare.
Indeed too bare thou art, too impudent,
That with thy owne state canst not be content.

Pesantlike Bastard, hate thy Beggarie,
Liue on thy owne, not on anothers state;
Thou that descendest from base penurie,
Wilt by thy Begging liue at higher rate?
Numbred thou art amongst such men as begs,
The smoke of Chimnies, snuffes, and Vintner's dregs.

Thou art defam'd, for all deride thy kneeling,
Thy capping, cringing, and thy temporizing,
As if thou hadst of modestie no feeling,
But from anothers razing drew thy rising.
Well, for thy begging we will beg for thee,
The Pattent of disgrace and infamie.

So with thy wallet as a beggar should,
Be not asham'd to seeme that which thou art,
Sowe patch on patch, to keepe thee from the cold,
And shew thy want in each seame-rented part:
But do not rere thy fortunes on mens fall,
For such base Beggars are the worst of all.

I write not to thee in a sublime stile,
Such is vnfit thy errors to conuince;

A Satyres native Rhetoricke.

Satyres though rough, are plaine and must reuile
Uice with a Cynicke bluntnesse, as long since

Eupolis, Aristobulus, Aristeas &c.

Those graue iudicious Satyrists did vse,
Who did not taxe the time, but times abuse.

And yet I wish my pen were made of steele,
And euery leafe, a leafe of lasting brasse,
Which might beare record to this Commonweale,
When this Age's past, to Ages that shall passe.
But these as others must, shall lose their name,
And we their Authors too must die with them.

Yet well I know, I shall Characterd be,
In liuing letters, prouing what I write,
To be authenticke to posteritie,
To whom this Ages vices I recite.
Which, much I doubt, as they're successiue still,
By course of yeares, so they'le succeed in ill.

For vice nere dyes intestate, but doth leaue,
Something behind, to shew what it hath bene;
Yea canting knaues that hang on others sleeue,
Can charge their heires still to pursue the streame,
Where Iohn a style bequeathes to Iohn a noke,
His Beggars rags, his dish, his scrip, his poke.

With which Ile beg; no, with my soule I scorne it,
Ile rather carrie tankards on my backe;
Yet th' trade is thriuing, true, but I'ue forsworne it,
Nor would I beg, though competent I lacke.

Before I should make congies to a swayne,
I would for sweare to take my legs againe.

I am but poore, and yet I scorne to beg.
To be a Bastard to my Progenie,
Yea I will rather with

Poyson. Sycites fig, a Prouerbe.

Sycites feg,
Receiue my death, then get me infamie.
I'le be a galley-slaue in Turkish ship.
Rather then scrape my crums out of a scrip.

Bias was poore, and yet his wealth increased,
All that he had he carried still about him;
Bias is dead, his goods by death are seised,
Mydas is poore, his goods were all without him.
Bias and Mydas both agree in this,
Earths blisse when we're in earth quite vanish'd is.

Candaules he was rich, yet he was poore,
Rich in his coffers rammed downe with gold,
Yet poore in this, his wife did proue a whoore,
Showne naked vnto Gyges to behold.
Collatine poore, yet rich, his wife is chast.
Both these agree in this, by death embrast.

Irus was poore, but Crœsus passing rich,
Irus his scrip differs from Crœsus board,
Yet now compare them and I know not which,

Is better furnish'd or the worser stor'd:
For see their fates, they both in one agree,
Since by pale Death they both arrested be.

Priscillaes purse,

Demosthenes an Orator of Athens.

Demosthenes his hand,
Do differ much, the one is alwayes shut,
The other open, for rewards doth stand;
Yet if we measure either by his foot,
That close-shut purse, and that receiuing hand,
Haue equall shares made by the Sextons wand.

Yet Beggar, thou that begs, and hopes to gaine
Store of rewards, for to relieue thy need.
Or surfet rather, tell me what's thy aime,
When those thou feeds, shall on thy carkasse feed?
For then where's the Beggar now become,
Whose shame's too great, to hide with shroud or tombe?

Take these rude Satyres as compos'd by him
Who loues his state farre better then thy trade,
For

Expos'd to shame, and infamie betraid.

Beggars lose more then they seeme to win,
Since their esteeme for euer's blemished:
Liue at a lower rate, and beg the lesse.
I'le liue to write, if thou thy fault redresse.

Amicus non Mendicus.

THE TENTH SATYRE. [OF MISERIE.]

Taurus a Iustice rich, but poore in mind,
(Riches make rich-men poore through miserie,)
Had long time liu'd as one in hold confin'd,
With gates close-shut from hospitalitie:

Meanes without men he had him to attend,
Lest what he spar'd his Retinue should spend.

One time a Traueller chanc'd to repaire
To Taurus house, to quench his vehement thirst,
But he poore man could find no comfort there:
Drinke could he get none, if his heart should burst;
Men he saw none, nor ought to cheare his want,
Saue a Blew-coate without a cognisant.

The Traueller conceited in distresse,
Straight thus discours'd, his

As quicke conceits will passions best allay.

passion to allay:
This Iustice is a Seruing-man'd guesse,
Who leaues his coate at home when he's away:
Therefore I was deceiu'd and did amisse,
To seeke a Iustice where a blew-coate is.

But as the Traueller went on his way,
He met the Iustice in a ragged suite,
Who in a Bench-like fashion had him stay,
Saying—He ought a Iustice to salute:
The man at first perplex'd, and now awake,
Tooke heart of grace, and did this answer make.

Sir, if I haue forgotten my regard
Vnto your place, forgiue my ignorance,
My eye could not discerne you, till I heard
Your selfe report your owne preeminence,
Whose name is Terror, and whose awfull breath,
Is messenger of furie, and of death.

And great I heare's endowments you possesse,
But worthie greater then you do enioy,
Witnesse your open house, which doth expresse
The care you haue your fortunes to employ
In bounties seruice: your good beere doth show it,
Being kept so well, as none can come vnto it.

Taurus he stamp'd, cald his attendants knaues,
And so he might, for none could be offended,
Where art thou Tom (quoth he) Iack, George, out slaues,
Faining their voyces, All shall be amended.
Then answers he himselfe, Let none depart,
But entertaine all with a chearefull heart.

The Traueller though he conceiued all,
Seem'd to admire the bountie of the place,
Till th' badge-lesse coate thas hung within the hall,
Forc'd him to laugh the Iustice in the face.
Why doest thou laugh (quoth he?) I laugh to note,
For want of men, what seruic's in a coate.

THE ELEVENTH SATYRE. [OF HYPOCRISIE.]

Claudius is pure, abiuring prophane things,
Nor will he companie with wickednesse:
He hates the source whence leud affections springs,
He'le not consent with deeds of naughtinesse:

Yet he will deale, so none do see his sinne,
Yea though heauens eyes he cares not looke on him.

He will not speake vnto a Maide in th' streete,
Lest his repute should fall vnto decay:
Yet if they two in priuate chance to meete,
He in a pure embrace will bid her stay.
Saying: I will instruct thee prettie Nan,
How thou shalt be a formall Puritan.

Then drawes he forth to moue the Maids affection,
The forc'd description of their puritie,
How he and she be children of election,
And must be sau'd what ere the wicked be.
For vices are tearm'd vertues, where we make
Lust but an Act for Procreation sake.

What then are Maids, thus he induceth her,
But Uirgins still that do impart their loue,
To such an One as is their furtherer
In holy zeale, and can the spirit moue?
Nought lesse but more, for there's a heauie væ,
Or curse denounc'd on them that barren be.

Cloze then in silence, eyes of men are shut,
None can detect vs, but the eyes of heauen,
And when we act, those lights are sealed up,
For vnto vs more libertie is giuen
Then vnto others, since the very name,
Of lust is chang'd when th' righteous vse the same.

102

Thou hypocrite, whose counterfeited zeale,
Makes thee seeme godly to the worelds eye,
Yet doest the golden fruites of Vesta steale.
When thou perceiues no man thy sins doth spie.
Leaue this dissembled zeale, for thou art knowne
The wickedst sinner, when thy inside's showne.

103

THE TWELFTH SATYRE. [OF EXCESSE.]

Phyloxenus lookes lanke with abstinence:
Poore man I pittie him, I thinke he's sicke;
No, this his seeming is a false pretence,
The greedie Cormorant will each thing licke:
Whose drum-stretch'd case can scarce his guts containe
Since he hath got the gullet of a Crane.

Thou thinkes there is no pleasure but in feeding,
Making thy selfe,

Like those unsatiable gluttons Uitellius and Appius to which Cormorants neither land, water nor aire might be sufficient. And Cambletes the gluttonous king of Lydia deuoured in a dreame his wife while she lay sleeping together in the same bed and finding her hand betweene his teeth when be awaked, he slue himselfe, fearing dishonour.

slaue to thy appetite;
Yet whilest thou crams thy selfe, thy soule is bleeding,
And Turtle-like mournes, that thou shouldst delight,
In such excesse as causeth infamie,
Starues soule, spoiles health, and ends with beggarie.

Remember (thou besott'd) for I must talke,
And that with serious passion, thou that tasts
The choycest wines, and doest to Tauernes walke,
Where thou consumes the night in late repasts.
Confusion now, drawes neare thee where thou kneeles,
Drinking deepe healthes, but no contrition feeles.

It may be, He that teacheth may be taught,
And Socrates of Softenes may learne,
Euen He, that for thy good these precepts brought,
To publicke light, may in himselfe discerne
Something blameworthie, true, and heauen he could,
Reforme his errors rightly as He would.

But harder is't by much for to performe,
Then to prescribe, where many seeme to vrge,
The present times abuse, but n'ere reforme
Those crimes in them which they in others scourge:
But where the Author makes vse of his paines,
As well as Reader, there's a double gaines.

And these are th' gaines which I do sue to haue,
Seeking no lesse thy benefit herein,
Then my peculiar good: where all I craue,
Is but thy prayer to purge me of my sinne.
I do not write, as I my paines would sell,
To euery Broker, vse them and farewell.

Nam inepto risu res nulla ineptior est.
Catull.

Finis Satyrarum.

An end of the Satyres composed by the foresaid Author in the discharge of Natures Embassie: purposely penned to reclaime man, whose vicious life promising an vnhappie end, must now be taxed more sharply, since vice comes to greatest growth through impunitie.

A CONCLVSIVE ADMONITION TO THE READER.

If any man shall reade, and making vse
Of these my Satyres, grow distemperate,
By making of a good intent abuse,
In that I seeme his life to personate;
Let him content himselfe, be it good or ill,
Gall'd horses winch, and I must gall him still.

A Satyrist ought to be most secure,
Who takes exception at his cancred style,
And he that most repines, let him be sure,
That he's the man whom Satyres most reuile.
Therefore who would be free from Satyres pen,
Ought to be Mirrors in the sight of men.

These two months trauell like the Almond rod,
May bring forth more when oportunitie
Giueth fit time, wherein vice loath'd by God,
May be displaide, and curb'd more bitterly.
Till which edition, take these in good part,
Or take them ill, how-ere, they glad my heart.

106

HERE FOLLOWETH SOME EPYCEDES

or funerall Elegies, concerning sundry exquisite Mirrours of true loue.

I. ELEGIE. [NO LOVE LOST.]

The Argument.

Two louely louers so deuided be,
As one to other hardly can repaire,
In Sestos she, and in Abydos he,
He swims, she waits & weeps, both drowned are
Waues cut off Heroes words, the Sea-nimphs mone,
One heart in two desires, no graue but one.

Hero was willing to Leanders suite,
But yet Leanders opportunitie
Could not be so, as answers his repute:
Lust sometime weares the robe of modestie:
Silent he woes, as bashfull youths must do,
By sighs, by teares, and kissing comfits too.

But what are these where fancie seated is,
But lures to loose desires, sin-sugred baits,
That draw men onward to fooles paradice,
Whose best of promises are but deceits?

107

And such Leanders were, meere golden dreames,
That leaue the waking senses in extreames.

But loue flame-like, though it restrained be,
Will still ascend, and so it far'd with him:
For now he cries, Hero I come to thee,
And though I cannot run, yet I will swim,
Where, while I swim, send thy sweet breath but hither,
And Zephire-like it will soone waft me thither.

Hero remaineth on the floting shore,
Waiting the blest arriuall of her friend,
But she (poore she) must neuer see him more,
Seeing him end before his iourney end:
In whose hard fate a double death appeares,
Drownd in the sea, and in his Heroes teares.

Still she laments, and teares her forlorne haire,
Exclaming 'gainst the fates, whose crueltie
Had chang'd her hope-reft fortune to despaire,
Abridging loue, true louers libertie;
But since its so (quoth she) the waues shall haue,
More then by right or iustice they can craue.

With that she leapt into the curled floud,
And as she leapt, she spake vnto the waue,
Remorcelesse thou (quoth she) that stain'd his bloud,
Shall now receiue two louers in one graue.
For fit it is, who liuing had one heart,
Should haue one graue, and not inter'd apart.

Yet in my death I do inuoke the Powers,
Which do frequent this wofull Riuer side,
That they adore and decke our Tombe with flowers,
Where ere our loue-exposed corps abide.
And if they aske where they shall find our graues,
Let them looke downe into these surging waues.

And I intreate my friends they do not weepe,
In that we are departed to our rest,
Sweete rest, may Hero say, when in her sleepe
She clips Leander whom she loued best:
She lou'd him best indeed, for she did craue
To be enhearsed with him in one waue.

This was no sooner spoke, but raging streames,
Cut off poore Heroes speech, and with their force,
Clos'd her in silence, while each Nimph complains,
And chides the Riuer for his small remorse.
Thus ended they, their ends were their content,
Since for to die in Loue, their minds were bent.

Let not fond loue so fondly thee embrace,
Lest like the Iuie or the Misselto,
It winde about thee to thy owne disgrace,
And make thee slaue to brutish passions too.
Be constant in thy loue, as chast not spotted,
Loue well and long, but not in loue besotted.

II. ELEGIE. [LOVE TO THE LAST.]

The Argument.

Louers consent finds fit place of recourse,
For Loues content chang'd into discontent,
King Ninus tombe their sconce or sorrows source,
To which a dreadfull Lyonesse is sent:
Which Thisbe spies and flies: her bloudie tyre,
Bereaues her Loue of life, and both expire.

Well then we will repaire vnto that place,
Where we shall haue fruition of our ioy,
By Ninus tombe, farre from our parents face,
Where mutuall Loue needs little to be coy:
Where met, we may enioy that long-sought pleasure,
Which Loue affoords, when Loue vnlocks her treasure.

Thisbe was mute, in being mute she yeelded,
Who knowes not Maides, by silence giue consent?
So on her silence her assent was builded,
Since in his loue she plac'd her sole content;
Onward he goes most forward to obtaine,
That which she wish'd, but Parents did restraine.

And coming nigh vnto king Ninus Tombe,
Erected neare a Christ all riueling,
There as she mus'd a Lion fierce did come
Forth of the groue, whence he his prey did bring.

100

Who all embrude with slaughter and with bloud,
Came for to quench his thirst at that same floud.

Thisbe perceiuing this enraged beast,
Fled for her refuge to a hollow tree,
Yet she for hast, what she suspected least,
Let fall her Tire, and to her shelfe did flee;
Where in the shade while she affrighted stood,
The Lion tinct her virgine-tire with blood.

And hauing now well drench'd his bloudie iawes,
Making returne vnto his shadie den,
Young Pyramus for to obserue loues lawes,
(Loues lawes must needs be kept) did thither tend,
And coming neare, her could he not espie,
But her vnhappie Tire di'd bloudily.

Which he no sooner with his eyes beheld,
Then he exclaim'd against his destinie,
Since Thisbe was by his request compeld,
To be a pray to Lions cruelty:
And taking vp the bloud besmeared Tire,
Amintas-like his end he doth conspire.

Yet fore his end in dismall sort he cried,
Fie on the fates, that did poore Thisbe kill,
Fie on those ruthlesse gods that haue decreed,
Wilde sauage beasts her crimson bloud to spill;
But why do I stand arguing with fate,
Lamenting ore her breathlesse corps too late?

111

For if thou lou'd her, shew thy loue in this
Lost, to regaine her presence by thy death;
Death, which hath left thee this poore Tire to kisse,
On which I'le breath and kisse, and kisse and breath:
Farewell my loue, if Piramus did loue thee,
He'le shew his loue, his loue shall be aboue thee.

Strike home (fond man) and do not feare grim death,
But meete him in the mid-way to thy graue;
For Thisbes loue I gladly lose my breath,
And that is all that Thisbe now can haue:
And with this speech, deepe griefe cut off his word,
He slue himselfe with his owne dismall sword.

Thisbe long trembling in her hollow Caue,
Came forth at last to meete her dearest loue.
How apt is loue the chastest to depraue,
Making a rauenous Uultur of a Doue;
Wherefore in haste she hies her to the spring,
Where she might heare a dolefull Syluane sing.

And to receiue the sorrow more at large,
Nigher she drew vnto that mournfull tune,
Where like a merchant in a splitted barge,
She stood amaz'd, and standing listned one,
Sorting his griefe vnto her deare friends griefe;
Whom she sought out, to yeeld her some reliefe.

Good Siluane say (thus spake she) hauing found him,
Did'st see a youth coast neare this darkesome way?
For much I feare, some sauage beast hath wound him,
If thou canst guide me to him, pray thee say:

Here is the Tombe where he appointed me,
To stay for him, yet him I cannot see.

Uirgin (quoth he) that youth you seeke is gone;
Whither (kind Siluane?) I will after him,
He shall not leaue me in this wood alone,
For trust me Siluane I haue frighted bin,
And by a dreadfull Lion so beset,
As I am hardly my owne woman yet.

See Ladie, see; with that he vanished,
To waile the losse of Nais he had kept,
Who by a Centaure lately rauished,
Was quite conueyd away while th' Siluane slept.
She turnes her eye, yet scarce will trust her eye,
No, nor the place where she doth see him lye.

Dead! why it cannot be, thus she began,
Who could harme thee that nere did any harme,
No not in thought to any liuing man?
With that she felt his pulse if it were warme,
But breathlesse he, key-cold as any stone,
She lookes and weepes, and bathes him looking on.

Yet long it was ere she could shed a teare,
For greatest grieues are not by teares exprest,
Deepe-rooted sorrowes greatest burden beare,
Kept most in heart, but showne in eye the least.
For lesser grieues haue eyes to bring them forth,
But greatest still are strangled in their birth.

Griefe therefore doth rebound, and with rebound
She shakes her Piramus and strokes his cheeke:
Loue was all eares, for he did heare her sound,
And mou'd his head from ground, but could not speake;
Yet did he hold her hand, as if her hand
Staid Deaths arrest, and could him countermand.

And as a man who ship-wrack'd on the Sea,
Not able to endure vnto the Port,
Takes hold on wracke, which He as constantly
Keepes in his hand, as he did labour for't:
From which, no danger whatsoere betide him,
Nor death it selfe can any way deuide him.

Euen so did Piramus keepe in his armes,
The choisest body of his chastest loue,
Whereby he thinkes himselfe so free from harmes,
As die he cannot till he thence remoue:
Yet though it's death to him, since Thisbe would,
He is contented to let go his hold.

This seene, (sayes Thisbe) since thy loue is such,
That to deuide thy selfe from thine owne loue,
To thee's a second death or harder much,
And mou'd by me thy hold thou doest remoue;
Ere long will Thisbe shew her selfe to thee,
An equall Mirror of loues constancie.

Yet do I pray those friends who are conioyned
To vs in Bloud, to take of vs compassion,
That as our Loues, our corpes may be combined,
With funerall rites after our countrie fashion:

And when to ashes they our corps shall burne,
Let both our drearie ashes haue one vrne.

Let both our graues (poore graues) be ioyn'd in one,
As both our hearts were linked in one twist:
And let our corps be couer'd with one stone,
So may our bones so neerely ioyn'd be blist;
For gods this priueledge to louers giue,
When others die by death, in death they liue.

By this young Thisbes speech was finished,
Who was as wearie to enioy her life,
As a loose Matron of her husbands bed,
Or a young spend-thrift of his long-liu'd wife:
Euen so was Thisbe, whom death did afford,
Though not same hand to kill, yet selfe-same sword.

But yet some Plant is still affectionate,
Unto a Louers death, whose constancie
Neuer doth alter from her wonted state,
But perseueres in stedfast certaintie:
For th' Mulberrie, seeing them Mourners lacke,
Milke-white before put on a sable blacke.

Morus thus altred in her former hue,
Changing her colour for the death of Loue,
Hath to this day her mourning-weed to shew;
Well might they moue vs then, when they did moue
The senslesse trees, who did so truly grieue,
As for their sake they would their colour leaue.

III. ELEGIE. [LOVE STAIND WITH LVST.]

The Argument.

The losse of Didoes honour and her loue,
Are both bemon'd: Anna but all in vaine,
Seekes to recomfort her: she seemes to proue
No faith in strangers: she dissolues her traine:
Incense is burn'd; a fire she doth deuise,
Wherein she makes her selfe the sacrifice.

Dido lamenting, that Æneas should
So soone conuert his loue to bitter hate,
The thought whereof surpast a thousand fold,
The losse of Scepter, honour, or estate:
Curseth the hap she had to entertaine,
Or giue such harbour to a thanklesse Swaine.

Yet do not so (quoth she,) he's generous,
Sprong from the Troian stocke and Progenie:
Curse him not Dido, it were ominous
To his proceedings and his dignitie;
He did requite thy loue, thou knowst deuoutly,
And did performe his Turnaments as stoutly.

Sweete was the Pleasure, though the fruite be sower,
Deare his embraces, kind his fauours too,
Witnesse that Bower (aye me) that rosie Bower,
In which heauen knowes, and few but heauen do know,

I gag'd my heart to him, he his to me,
Which makes me ty'd in faith how ere he be.

And he protested, Simple woman, thou
To credit what a stranger had protested:
For what is he that liues, and will not do
As much or more, till he hath fully feasted
His eager Appetite, which being allaid,
He streight forgets the promise he hath made?

And so did he, respectlesse of his vow,
Or (breach of faith) which whatsoere he thinke,
Will be reueng'd by Heauen; and sharply too,
Gods do not euer sleepe when they do winke.
For though they spare, They will at last strike home,
And send Reuenge to th' infant in my wombe.

Poore Orphane Infant, whose iniurious birth,
As closely done, shall closely be suppressed,
And haue a double Mother, Mee and Earth,
And for thy Fathers sake a double chest:
Whose Tombe shall be my wombe, whose drerie shrowd,
Shall be my selfe, that gaue it life and food.

This as she spake her Sister she came in,
Aduising her vnto a milder course,
Then to afflict her selfe with thought of him
Whose heart was reft of pittie and remorse;
Wherefore (said she) since sorrow is in vaine,
Forget his absence, that will salue your paine.

Will salue my paine (quoth she!) and then she gron'd,

Cures to apply is easier then to cure:
No, no, my sorrowes may be well bemon'd,
But nere redrest: for th' eye of heau'n's too pure,
To view my sinne, my soile, my guilt, my staine,
Whose die's so deepe 'twill nere be white againe.

Yet to preuent the scandall would ensue,
If fame should know what hath in priuate bene,
I'le lop this Branch, lest Time should say, it grew
(Adulterate Issue) from the Carthage Queene:
Which ere I do, lest I incurre heauens hate,
With Incense burn'd, their wrath I'le expiate.

Wherewith I'le purge (if such may purged be)
The fact I did, which grieues me that I did,
Staining my honour with his periurie,
Which gods do see, though it from man be hid:
For this (deare sister) build me here a fire,
To sacrifice my shame, appease heauens ire.

Anna, for so her Sister hight, doth rere
This fatall pile, preparing all things meete
For such a sacrifice, as Iuniper,
Spicknarde, and Mirrhe, to make the Incense sweete,
Unknowne to what her Sister did intend,
Whose faire pretence came to a timelesse end.

Sister (quoth Dido) now you may be gone,
Sweete is Deuotion that is most retir'd,
Go you aside, and leaue me here alone,
Which Anna did as Dido had requir'd:
Who now alone with heauen-erected eyes,

Her wofull selfe she makes the sacrifice.

Anna retir'd, did heare her Sister shrike,
With which at first affrighted, she made haste,
To see th' euent, the sight whereof did strike
Such a distraction in her, as it past
The bounds of Nature, where experience tries,
More sorrow's in the heart then in the eyes.

At last her eyes long shut vnsealed were,
To eye that mournfull Obiect, now halfe turn'd
To mouldred ashes, for it did appeare,
As halfe were scorch'd, the other halfe were burn'd:
Which seene, she cries, and turnes away her sight,
Black woe betide them that such guests inuite.

Anna thus left alone, yet mindfull too,
Of Didoes honour, reares a Princely shrine,
The like whereof that Age could neuer show,
Nor any Age, till

Wife to Mausolus king of Caria. vid. Plutar. in Apoptheg.

Artemisias time:
On which was this engrauen: Loue was my losse,
Rich was my Crowne, yet could not cure my crosse.

Thus Dido di'd, who was not much vnlike
Unto the Countriman who nourished
The dead-staru'd Uiper, that vngratefull snake,
Who rest him life, that it had cherished:
So Dido she, whose fall my Muse recites,
Lies slaine by him, whom she in loue inuites.

AN ELEGIE VPON THESE ELEGIES.

Let fond Leander warne thee, to remaine
Upon the Riuer banke in safetie:
Let Piramus rash fact thy hand restraine,
Too deare costs Loue, mix'd with such crueltie:
Lastly, let Dido warne thee by her end,
To trie that Guest thou makes thy bosome friend.

Venit amor grauius quo serius vrimur intus,
Vrimur, & cæcum pectora vulnus habent.

THE SECOND SECTION OF DIVINE AND MORALL SATYRES:

With AN ADIVNCT VPON THE PRECEDENT; WHEREBY THE Argument with the first cause of publishing these Satyres, be euidently related.

Disce & doce.

TO THE WORTHIE CHERISHER AND NOVRISHER OF ALL GENEROUS studies, S. W. C. Knight R. B. His affectionate Country-man wisheth the increase of all honour, health, and happinesse.

Sir,

When I had compos'd these raged lines,
Much like the Beare who brings her young ones forth,
In no one part well featurd, she repines,
That such a lumpe of flesh should haue a birth:
Which to reforme, she's said to undertake
A second taske, and licks them into shape.

So I producing these unriper seedes,
Scarce growne to their perfection, knew not how,
(Since different humour, different censure breeds)
How they should come to ripenesse, but by you:

Whose faire accept once may such count'nance show,
As you may others moue to grace them too.

Nor do I doubt but these shall purchase grace,
'Mongst such as honour vertue, for how low
So 'ere the style be, Subiect is not base,
But full of Diuine matter; and I know,
The Sunne giues life, as well to simple weeds,
As unto flowers or other fruitfull seeds.

Vpon the Dedicatorie.

Though he (and happie he) bereft by fate,
To whom I meant this worke to dedicate,
This shall find shelter in his liuing name,
He's chang'd indeed, but I am still the same.

THE FIRST SATYRE. [OF SLOTH.]

Elpenor groueling in his duskie caue,
Secure of God or Gods high prouidence,
Nought but luxurious dishes seemes to craue,
To satisfie the appetite of sence.
He spurnes at heauen, contemnes all supreme power,
Priding in that will perish in an houre.

God is of no respect with Epicures,
Sencelesse of of heauen or minds tranquilitie,
Sencelesse of Hell, which euermore endures,
Glad to receiue earths ioyes satietie:
Where rape with Obiects of deceiuing Pleasure,
They liue to sin, but to repent at leasure.

Is not that Statue (say Elpenor) thine,
With eyes-inflam'd and palsie-shaking hand,
Vpon whose fore-head's writ, Abuse of time?
I know it is, for I do see it stand
Neare Baccus shrine, where either drinkes to other,
Healths to Eryca, their lasciuious Mother.

Where Syren voyces so apply the eare,
With an affected melodie, that earth

Might a phantasticke Paradise appeare,
Through consort of an vniuersall mirth,
Which these inchanting harmonists did vse,
To th' wofull friends of wandring Ithacus.

But who is He that seemes to challenge thee,
Yet staggers in his challenge? O I know him,
It's Hans the Dutch-man, new arriu'd from Sea,
Stand fast Elpenor, if thou'lt ouerthrow him,
But why enioyne I that thou canst not do,
Halfe of a stand were well betwixt you two.

And much I doubt, lest Cripple-like you grow,
So long it is, as it is out of mind,
Since you were seene by any man to go,
Which makes me heare your legs are hard to find:
For vse brings on Perfection, and I feare
Your dropsie-legs are out of vse to beare.

See thou vnweldy wretch, that fatall shelfe,
To which thou art declining, being growne
A heauie vselesse burthen to thy selfe,
In whom no glimpse of vertue may be showne:
A Barmie leaking vessell (which in troth)
For want of reason is fill'd vp with froth.

Aged Turpilio grones at mispent time,
Wishing he had his youth to passe againe:
For then He would not vse't as thou doest thine,
But mone the houres which He hath spent in vaine.
But Time runs on, and will not make returne,
When Death succeeds, whom no man can adiourne.

And seest thou this, and wilt thou not prouide
For Deaths arrest, whose sad approch will be
So full of horror, as thou scarce shalt bide,
So grim he is, that He should looke on thee?
And yet He will, for he no diffrence makes,
Twixt rich and poore, but whom He likes he takes.

Thy Prince thou seest, whose vertues are so pure
He cannot breath on vice, hath thee exil'd,
Forth of his royall confines, to secure
His Realme the more, lest it should be defil'd
By thy deprau'd example, which once stain'd,
(So ranke is vice) would hardly be reclaim'd.

Trunke of Confusion, which deriues thy being
From no supernall essence for with it,
Thy works, words, motions haue but small agreeing,
But from securitie, where thou doest sit;
Feeding thy vast-insatiate appetite,
With euery day new dishes of delight.

O rouse thy selfe from that obscurest vale,
And sing a thankefull Hymne vnto thy Maker,
Creepe not vpon thy bellie like the Snaile,
But like the Larke mount vp to thy Creator;
Adorning thee with reason, sense and forme,
All lost in thee, through want of Grace forlorne.

Honour doth ill become the slothfull man,
Who Zanie-like becomes a slaue to pleasure,
For He, when vrgent causes moue Him, than
Neglects Occasion, and reserues that leasure,

Which might haue bene employd in cares of state,
For his delights, bought at too high a rate.

This thy experience tells thee, whose estate
Once high, now low, made subiect to disgrace,
Shewes thou art chang'd from what thou was of late,
Yet to my iudgement in a better case:
So thou consider th' state from whence thou came,
And leaue that vice which did procure the same.

But doubt I must, (ô that my doubts were vaine)
Such great expence is made of precious time,
As 'twill be much to do to wash the staine
Of that enormious loathsome life of thine.
Yet Teares haue power, and they are soueraigne too,
And may do more then any else can do.

Then comfort-take, yet comfort mixe with teares,
Thou

Cadmos a hill by Laodicea out of which issueth the Riuer Lycus, it taketh this name from Cadmus sonne to Agenor king of Phænicia.

Cadmos leaues, and it's thy natiue soile;
Suppose it be, each coast or clime appeares
The good-mans wished Country, which blest style,
Exceeds all worldly comfort, which thou had,
For this is passing good, that passing bad.

I do not speake, as those whose guilded breath,
Traines on the vicious with deceiptfull hope;
For I haue set before thee life and death,
And this I aim'd to make my chiefest scope:
That if reward of life could no way gaine thee,
The feare of death & vengeance might reclaime thee.

Life as a Crowne or Diadem is due,

To such whose wayes are not in Error led,
Death as a guerdon doth to such accrue,
Whose carnall hearts with pleasures captiued,
Thinke not on Death, till Death his flag display,
And now secure shall take their life away.

Turne then vnto the coast of Arcadie,
From whence thou wast exil'd, and there suruey
The vertues of that Prince did banish thee,
And weigh the cause why there thou might not stay:
Which done, seeke to regaine thy Princes loue,
But chiefly His, that is thy Prince aboue.

THE SECOND SATYRE. [OF CORRUPTION.]

Pompey the Great no sooner was interr'd,
But poore Cornelia his distressed wife,
To her deceassed Lords estate preferr'd,
Was drawne by Consul Asper into strife:
And so opprest by hote pursuite of foes,
That she deuoid of friends was fraught with woes.

She, wofull she, lest she should lose her state,
Makes meanes to

A prodigall Courtier, but in great fauour with Cæsar,

Cælius to preferre her suite,
Which he's content to do, but at such rate,
As 'twill cost deare to bring the cause about:
Yet she remedilesse, to worke her peace,
Stood not much on't, but did the Courtier please.

Cælius possest of his iniurious fee,
Which he consum'd in riotous expence,
Forgot the widdows cause dishonestlie,
Without remorse or touch of conscience:

For vnder hand (as Courtiers vse to do)
He takes a priuate bribe of Asper too.

Cornelia now in hope of good successe,
Comes vnto Cælius as her purchas'd friend,
And humbly craues to know what's her redresse,
Or in what sort her suite is like to end:
Where He as strangely answers her demand,
And say's, her suite came neuer to his hand.

No suite! (thus did this Matron streight reply)
O Rome where is thy

Iustice may be aptly compared to the Celedonie stone, which retaineth her vertue no longer then it is rubbed with gold.

Iustice now enthron'd,
Thou that didst vse to heare a widdow crie,
And right her cause as thou her wrongs bemon'd!
But spare Cornelia, what reliefe can come
Frō corrupt Courts, where gold makes Consuls dumbe?

If my much-honor'd Lord, whose Country loue
Reft him of breath, should see this present time,
How gifts can limit Iustice, would't not moue
His Royall spirit, seeing me and mine,
Whose onely comfort's this, we may repose,
And ioy in this, we haue no more to lose?

Whilest wrong'd Cornelia sat thus pensiuely,

One of especiall esteeme with Pompey before his ouerthrow.

Tuberculus a Courtier past that way,
Who in compassion of her miserie,
Knowne to her selfe not to her grieues, did stay;
For generous minds are neuer more exprest,
Then in applying comfort to th' distrest.

Ladie (quoth he) if I could ease your griefe,

The loue I owe vnto your familie,
Me thinks might promise to your selfe reliefe,
Impart them then, what ere your sorrowes be:
Cures haue bene wrought where little was expected,
For where the mind is willing, ought's effected.

She hearing him so vertuously inclin'd,
Prone vnto pittie, sighing did declare,
How that her sonne young Pompey was confin'd,
Which was the greatest subiect of her care:
Whom if He would make meanes for to release,
The current of her sorrowes soone would ceasse.

Another suite I haue, which Asper moues,
To force me from my right of widdowhood,
Wherein his worser cause the better proues,
For mightie men can hardly be withstood:
In these I must intreate your Lordships care,
In lieu whereof I'le gratifie with prayer.

Tuberculus did answer her demands,
But he expected

Like Verconius in the time of Alexander Seuerus, who pretending familiaritie with the Emperour, tooke mens mony for preferring their suites, abused them, & did them no good at all: at last conuented before the Emperour, he was iudged to be hanged vp in a chimney, and so perish with smoke, for that he sold smoke to the people. Lamprid. in Seu. Verco.

ointment, and delaying,
To giue her further comfort, there He stands,
He for his fee, she for her cause stood praying.
Cornelia well perceiuing what He would,
Good gods (quoth she) is Iustice wholly sould?

How do you meane (quoth he) it is our meanes,
Could we be thus enameld euery day,
Or in such port maintaine our fauning friends,
If we receiu'd not profit by delay?
No Ladie, no, who in these dayes do liue,

And would haue Iustice, must not sticke to giue.

Thus was Cornelia crost, her meanes preuented,
No comfort now remaining saue despaire;
Wherefore (perforce) she rests hope-reft, contented
To lose the sight of her confined heire,
Who liues restrain'd: Asper her state hath got,
And poore Cornelia with her cause forgot.

THE THIRD SATYRE. [OF ATHEISME.]

Ingenious Lucian, ripe in poesie,
Apt to compose, and pregnant to inuent,
Well read in secrets of Phylosophie,
And in all Morall knowledge excellent;
For all these rarer parts vnto him giuen,
Ceass'd not to barke against the power of heauen.

This snarling Curre, for he detracted God,
As profest enemie to pietie,
Chanced to trauell, where Gods irefull rod
Made him a witnesse to posteritie;
For this same

Thus as he bark'd against the God of heauen, To barking currs he for a prey was giuen.

wretch who bark'd against heauens power,
Did barking currs (such was heauens doome) deuoure.

Soile to his soule, and so to Christs profession,
For He no Christ profest, but thought't a scorne
That God made man, from God should haue cōmission,
Without mans helpe to be of Uirgin borne:
Yet see his fall, who did himselfe deceiue,
Unpitied dies, and dying ha's no graue.

What's Sions peace (sayes He) there's no such place;

The Atheists opinion.

Earth hath her Sion, if we ayme our care
At any other Mansion, it's a chase

So fruitlesse, as if we should beate the ayre,
Or plant our hope in things which cannot be,
And such's our trust in fained Deitie.

Thou vglie visard, that with faire pretence
Of Morall discipline shadowes thy sin,
Reclaime thy selfe by timely penitence,
And loath that horrid Caue thou wallowest in:
Thy sin's deepe-dide, yet not of that deepe staine,
But Teares & Prayers may make them white againe.

Hast thou no Anchor to relie vpon?
No Refuge nor no Recluse for thy hope?
Behold thy Iesus he's thy corner stone,
Make him thy ayme, thy succour, shelter, scope,
And he'le receiue thee in the Throne of blesse,
The boundlesse Ocean of all happinesse.

Returne thou wicked Lucian, make thy verse
Thy Retractation, be not ouerbold,
Lest when good-men shall view thy forlorne hearse,
In thy reproch they cause this to be told
To after-ages: Here he lies interr'd,
Who erring knew, and in his knowledge err'd.

Sweete and delightfull Poems canst thou make,
Of Hymen rites, or Venus dalliance,
And pleasant seemes the labour thou doest take,
While to thy Pipe deluded Louers dance:
But in such sacred measures thou art slow,
As teach men how to liue, and what to know.

Mirrha the wanton mother of a wanton,
Gamesome the Mother and the Daughter too,
Giues a fit subiect for thy Muse to chant on,
Relating what a Louer ought to do;
In which lasciuious straine, fond Loue is brought
To hate what's good, but to affect what's naught.

Thou canst report how Romanes ioyned were,
First with the Sabines, and what strange delights
Tooke their inuention from those feasts were there,
Duly solemniz'd on their nuptiall nights;
Of Sphinx, Charybdis, Scilla, Ctesiphon,
With Prœtus letters against

Who slue the two monsters Chymera and Solymos in Lycia.

Bellerophon.

These thou canst feature as Apelles, He
The Prince of painters could not better show
Their formes, then thou their natures, which may be
Portrayers of thy wit and learning too:
But what are these but shadowes, if thou moue
Thy eye to those blest obiects are aboue?

Lend but thy eare to aerie warbling Birds,
Which day by day sing pleasant madrigals;
And thou shalt heare what praise the Larke affoords,

Larke.

Whilest with sweete Hymnes she on her maker cals,
Where each repayes their due in their degree,
And much abashd do rest asham'd of thee.

The flower which hath no sense, nor hath no feeling,
Nor apprehends the difference of things,
Performes her office in delight of smelling,
Likewise the tree most fruitfull blossoms brings:

The Serpent, Adder, and each crauling worme,
Haue mutuall duties giuen them with their forme.

The Basiliske the

The Pisraire and Locust (of all other creatures) haue no king nor leader. vid. AElian, & Plin. in natur. Hist.

king of Serpents is,
The Lion of all beasts, the Cedar tree
Is chiefe of Trees, Leuiathan of fish,
And man ore these hath sole supremacie:
Thus euery Creature in her seuerall kind,
Hath seuerall Lords and limits her assign'd.

Thou Lucian art endu'd with what at these want,
And canst distinguish betwixt good and ill,
Yet thou denies what other Creatures grant,
And which is worse, thou so continuest still:
Thou laughs at Adams fall, and thinks't a shame,
Man should auouch an Apple caus'd the same.

Wo worth that fruite that had so bitter taste,
Bringing Perdition to the soule of man,
That free-borne Creature, which so farre surpast
Mans fraile condition when it first began;
That was an Apple that too dearely cost,
Which made so many soules for euer lost.

If I should Catechise thee Lucian,
And tell the vertue of each seuerall thing;
How reason first was distribute to man,
And how the earth globe-like in aire doth hing,
The secret grouth of Plants which daily grow,
Yet how or when no humane sense can know.

The

That starrie Gallerie embost with gold, fretted with orbs of Christall, Siluer'd ouer, with pearle pau'd, roofed with an Agget couer.

Fabrick of the heauen, whose eminence
Shewes admiration to vs that behold
Her glorious Bodies sacred influence,
Whose distinct Motion, who is't can vnfold?
None but the Author and the founder can,
For it exceedes the reach of any man.

If I should question thee, whence these deriue
Their proper Motion, it would thee behooue
To yeeld, that some to these do Motion giue,
Since what se're moues doth by another moue:
Which thou confirmes and adds, nought vnder Sunne
Is done in these, but is by Nature done.

So thou

Holding with Albumazar that his leading the children of Israel ouer the Red sea, was no more but obseruing the influence of Starres, and waining season of the Moone that withdraweth the tides; and that miraculous issuing of water out of the rocke, by the stroke of a rod was no more, but noting those spring-heads, whereto the wild asses resorted to quench their thirst.

referrs that wonderfull Creation,
After the Deluge to a mortall wight,
Discoursing vainly how Deucalion,
Refurnish'd earth which was vnpeopled quite;
But thou deceiued art, it's nothing so,
For it was God that gaue increase to Noe.

We are his clay, we must confesse his power,
He is our Potter, whose deuine command
Can dash vs earthen vessels in one

Whom th' morning sees so proudly go, ere euening come may lie full low. Senec.

houre,
Subiect vnto the iudgement of his hand;
For he no sooner shall withdraw his breath,
Then Man leaues to be Man, and welcomes death.

Heauens power to which no Mortall can extend,
(Not to be argued or disputed on,)
Because it's not in Man to comprehend,
The radiant Splendor of the glorious Sunne:

Much lesse profounder secrets, which were fram'd,
For admiration, not to be prophan'd.

We haue heard of diuerse, exemplarily punished euen in that wherein they cōtemptuously profaned; as Iulian, Herodias, Balthasar, and Thymelicus the enterlude-plaier; who dancing vpon the scaffold in a Cope (a robe of the Church) fell downe dead. Thymelico saltatori, &c. Vid. Val. Maxi. lib. 1. cap. 2.

Prophan'd, if nam'd without due reuerence,
To that Supreme all-working Maiestie,
Whose Palme containes this Earths circumference,
Whose praise takes accent from heauens Hierarchie.
Let not, O let not him who gaue man tongue,
To yeeld him praise, for silence make it dumbe.

Thou canst compose a song of Shepheards liues,
Spent in a pleasant veine of Recreation,
How they sit chatting with their wanton wiues,
Tricking and toying in a Shepheards fashion:
This thou canst do, and it's done pretily,
For it shews wit, yet spent vnfittingly.

O if thou would confine thy selfe in reason,
And leaue fond Poems of a doting Louer,
Obseruing Natures tone, tune, time, and season,
How well would these seeme to that powerfull mouer;
Whose eyes are pure, and of that piercing sight,
As they loue light, but hate such works are light.

But O too vaine's the current of thy vaine,
Soild with the Motiues of vntamed lust,
Which layes vpon thy Name that endlesse shame,
As shall suruiue, when thou return'd to dust,
Shalt much lament those Poems thou hast writ,
Through th' light conceit of thy licentious wit.

Nor is it gaine mou's thee to prostitute,

That precious talent which thou doest possesse;
No, it's delight thou hast to gaine repute,
'Mongst men made beasts through their voluptuousnes
O hate that affectation, lest this shelfe,
Of vaine applause do ruinate thy selfe!

For such esteeme, what honour wil't afford,
What comfort in the graue, where thou lies dead;
When thy lasciuious

By those studies, which I affected, am I condemned, by those I praised, am I disparraged. Aug.

works shall beare record,
Of what was by thee writ or published?
Nay 'twill preiudice thee, it cannot chuse,
Uaine's that opinion ill-men haue of vs.

Thus thou sustaines the height of miserie,
To see a

Two brothers, sonnes to Argie a Prophetesse in the temple of Iuno.

Cleobes and Biton grac'd,
With honour, fame, desertfull dignitie,
Thy glory prun'd, thy laurell-wreath defac'd:
The triumphs of thy wit so quite forgot,
As if (so fickle's fame) thou flourish'd not.

Nor can we say those flourish, whose renowne
Consists in praise of vice, for though they seeme
Vnto the worlds eye so fully knowne,
Yet they shall be as if they had not bene;
When vice, which to aduance was their desire,
Shall melt away as waxe before the fire.

Rest not, but labour Lucian to preferre
The sage contents of sacred Mysteries,
Before such Rithms as teach men how to erre,
Whose best instructions are but vanities;
Which if thou do, wits Treasure shall increase,

And crowne thee Laureat in the Land of peace.

Yet reade not so, as not to vnderstand
The graue remainders of Times ancient Booke;
For what a follie is't to haue in hand
Bookes nere red ouer! This, that Sage forsooke,
When in his course of reading He did vse,
The choycest flowers in euery worke to chuse.

Thus Lucian haue I warn'd thee to forbeare,
That snarling humour, of detracting such
Whose vertues shine as Starres in highest Sphære,
Whose worthie Liues can well abide the tutch;
Defame not vertue, rather emulate,
Good-mens example, that's a vertuous hate.

THE FOVRTH SATYRE. [OF SINGVLARITIE.]

Stesichorus

A lyrick Poet, famous for his sweete and pleasing veine.

like Zeuxes cannot paint,
Nor like Lysippus can delineate;
For then He would giue that accomplishment
To Hellens beautie, as might propagate
Her fame to following times, when Ages passe,
Which by Record might shew what Hellen was.

Blind Byard now, see how thy iudgement err'd,
By gazing long on beautie thou art blind,
Recanting all too late what thou auerr'd,
So diffrent is th' opinion of that mind,
Where onely selfe-conceit drawes men to shew
Their priuate iudgement, giuen they care not how.

Was she not faire that made all Troy to burne,
That made Prince Paris wander to and fro,
That made Queene Hecuba so sore to mourne,
Both for her selfe and for her Issue too?
Yes she was faire, how ere thy eye esteeme her,
Nor can conceit of one make beauty meaner.

What made stout Menelaus passe the Sea?
What Telamon to rig his well-mann'd ship,
What Aiax, what Achylles? It was she,
Whose sweete ambrosiacke breath and cherri-lip,
Relish'd of Nectar, and infus'd a spirit,
In Cowards breasts, to gaine true fame by merit.

Old subtill Sinon can prepare assault,

Against the strongest battlements of Troy,
Whilest armed Grecians in that ribbed vault,
Prest for encounter, purpos'd to destroy,
Issue from Pallas horse, so aptly

Jt was made by Phereclus, who was after slaine by Merion in the siege of Troy.

made,
As Troy had cause to curse the cunning Iade.

Art thou perswaded yet to praise her beautie,
Sith Nature hath surpast Her selfe in skill,
As one ingag'd in some respect of dutie,
Unto her sex, to make them honor'd still?
O be perswaded, to her shrine repaire,
For howsoere thou saies, thou thinks Her faire!

Faire in proportion, motiue in her pace,
An eye as chearefull as the morning-Sunne,
Her haire, her smile, her well-beseeming grace,
By which so many Troians were vndone
In briefe, examine Her from top to toe,
And then admire each part accomplish'd so.

Such admiration as like Linceus eyes,
Transparent Brightnesse seemes to penetrate:
For if Apollo seeing Daphnes thighes,
Wau'd by the Easterne winde, forgot his state,
Himselfe and all, Proportion well may moue,
Since gods themselues were tost by gusts of loue.

Did not faire Phyllis; dote vpon a Swaine,
She passing faire, and he a witherd lad,
Whence we may reason, none can loue restraine,
Nor set it limits which it neuer had:
For when we haue done all that we can do,

It will haue th' course and readie passage too.

Yet Loue's so pure it can endure no staine,
Stain'd Loue is lust, which is not in her brest:
Spotlesse content she seekes, which if she gaine,
She freely liues, and fairely takes her rest:
But barr'd of this, without repose she lies,
And dying liues, and liuing loathed dies.

It is not Venus mole nor Hellens scarre,
Adds fuell to affection, for though these
Gaue beautie summons to commence Loues warre,
Yet outward graces do but onely please,
As Obiects do the eye; where Loues best part
Consists not in the eye, but in the Heart.

But now to thee, who did dispraise that faire,
Whose beautie ruin'd Cities, now disclaime
Thy purblind iudgement, and withall compare
Hellen with Hero, or some choicer Dame:
And then it may be Cupid will restore
Thine eyes to thee, which He put out before.

THE FIFT SATYRE. [OF DOTAGE.]

Pigmalion rare, in rare Proportions making,
Yet not in quickning that which He had framed,
So exquisite in artfull curious shaping,
In nought (if Zeuxes iudgd) could He be blamed:
Yet skillfull though He were in formes contriuing,
Yet not so skilfull in those formes reuiuing.

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Reuiu'd! I wrote amisse, they neuer liued:
Improper then to say, they were reuiued.

He builds him

Like those Pulminaria erected by the heathen for their Pagan images.

Temples for his Image-gods,
And much besotted with their faire aspect,
In admiration of his worke, He nods,
And shakes his Head, and tenders them respect;
I cannot tell (quoth He) what passion moues me,
But sure I am (quoth He) faire Saint I loue thee,
Thou art my handie-worke, I wish my wife,
If to thy faire Proportion thou hadst life.

Canst thou Pigmalion dote so on shrines,
On liuelesse Pictures, that was neuer rapt
With any beautie Cyprus Ile confines?
These (foolish man) be for thy Loue vnapt;
They cannot answer Loue for Loue againe,
Then fond Pigmalion do thy Loue restraine;
Such senslesse creatures as haue onely being,
Haue with embraces but an harsh agreeing.

They haue no moysture in their key cold lips,
No pleasure in their smile, their colour stands;
Whilest youthfull Ladies on the pauement trips,
They stand as Pictures should, with saplesse hands;
And well thou knowes, if Passiue be not mouing,
The Actiue part can yeeld small fruits of louing:
Why art thou so besotted still with woing,
Since there's no comfort when it comes to doing?

Can any idle Idoll without breath,
Giue thee a gracefull answer to thy suite?

101

Nay rather like dead corps surpriz'd by death,
It answers silence when thou speakes vnto't.
Desist then (fond Pigmalion) and restraine
To loue that Creature cannot loue againe;
What will it pleasure thee a shrine to wed,
That can afford no pleasure in thy bed?

Thou art not so bewitcht with any beautie,
How faire soere within thy Natiue Ile,
No Nimph can moue thy Loue, or force thy dutie,
As doth this Picture, whose art-forcing smile
Can giue thee small content, and wherefore then
Should painted Statues so entangle men?
It's loue thou sayest, Pigmalion, that doth moue thee,
But thou loues such as cannot say they loue thee.

Turne thee vnto leud Pasyphaes lust,
Wife to a braue and valiant

Minos king of Crete.

Champion,
Who on a Bull (see how affection must
Passe Reasons limit) fondly dotes vpon;

Non frustra dictus Bos ouis Imber Olor, Whence our English Poet as properly annexed this Disticke, imitating the former in matter and manner: In vaine Ioue was not stil'd right sure I am, From th' shape he tooke of Bull, sheepe, shower, and swan. vid. Ouid. in Metamorph.

Ioue on a Heifer, Danae of a shower,
Such is the vertue of loues-working power:
No time, place, obiect, subiect, circumstance,
Can still Loues pipe, when Cupid leades the dance.

Then who will aske the reason of thy Loue,
Which shewes most strength when she can shew least reason,
And cannot Proteus-like with each blast moue,
Nor free her selfe from soule-deluding treason!
She like the Moone is not each month in waine,
For th' obiect of her loue is of that straine,
Nor land, nor sea, nor tempests though they thwart her

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Can from her Sphere by Opposition part her.

Do but torment Her with the sight of woe,
Uexe her with anguish and with discontent,
She will not make her friend in heart, her foe;
No, if she were with depth of sorrowes spent;
Yet like

Which is elegantly expressed by our moderne Poet. Whose fall (Antheus-like) prouok'd him more, And made him stronger then he was before.

Anthæus, when she's most cast downe,
She gathers strength, and is not ouerthrowne:
She cannot breake her vow, her legall oath,
But meanes (if life permit) to keepe them both.

Then (honour'd Picture) let me thee embrace;
With that He hugd it in his lustfull armes,
And now and then He smeer'd the Pictures face,
Praying the gods to keepe it from all harmes:
And prayed (a senslesse prayer) Ioue to defend,
His Picture from diseases to the end;
So to enioy her dalliance with more pleasure,
Whose presence He esteem'd the precious't Treasure.

Each euen he vs'd to dresse it for his bed,
For in a gowne of Tissue was it clothed,
And put a night-tyre on it's iuorie head,
And when night came He made it be vnclothed;
Where, lest He should his lustfull fauours hide,
He vs'd to lay the Picture by his side,
Where He drew to it as He saw it lie,
But when it would not be, He wish'd to die.

Ungratefull Creature (would Pigmalion say)
That neuer doest afford one smile on me,
That dallies thus with thee, each night, each day;

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Faire Saint, what needes this curiositie?
While with a kisse He oft his speech would breake,
By threats or faire intreats to make it speake:
And when He had his fruitlesse pratling done,
He would in rage call it an Idoll dumbe.

But angrie with himselfe, He streight would blame
His too rash furie, crauing pardon too,
That he should stile it with so harsh a Name,
And wish'd him powre to die, or it to do,
Swearing by heauen, if sheete did chance to moue,
It was the nimble action of his Loue.
Coy-toying Girle (quoth He) what meaneth this,
Is it your modestie, you will not kisse?

Nought though it answer'd, he would prosecute
His wooing taske, as if it stood denying,
And thus would vrge it; Deare accept my suite,
Be not so fearefull, feare thou not espying,
I haue excuses store, then listen me;
For I will vow I was enam'ling thee:
Then sport thee wench, securely frolick it,
That I on thee a Niobe may get.

Thus whilest He vainely pratled to his Shrine,
Aurora with her radiant beames appeared,
And blushing red, as if she tax'd the time,
For such licentious motions, slilie peered
In at a chinke, whereby she did discouer
An idoll courted by an idle Louer:
And scarce Aurora now had time to show her,
But fond Pigmalion made this speech vnto her:

104

What haue I done (thou iealous light) said He,
That I should thus depriued be of louing?
What couldst thou do, to adde more miserie,
Then in thy speedie rising, hastie mouing?
Thou might haue spar'd one day, and hid thy light,
Enioyning Earth to haue a double night,
Where ghastly furies in obliuion sit,
For darke misdeeds for darknesse be most fit.

But He cut off his speech with many grone,
Hastning to rise, yet went to bed againe,
And as He goes, He sees the darknesse gone,
And Phæbus coursers galloping amaine:
Which seene, at last He rose with much adoe,
And being vp, began afresh to woe;
Yet hauing so much sense as to perceiue,
How he had err'd, He ceasseth now to craue.

For He intends to worke another way,
By Inuocation on some heauenly power,
The onely meanes his passion to allay;
Which to performe, retiring to his bower,
He made these Orisons: Venus faire Queene,
Then whom in heauen or earth nere like was seene,
Be thou propitious to my prayers, my teares,
Which at thy Throne and Pedestall appeares.

I whom nor Swaine nor Nimph could ere inchant,
Am now besotted with a senslesse creature,
Whom though I do possesse, yet do I want,
Wanting life breathing in her comely feature,
Which by infusing life if thou supplie,

105

Ile liue to

By offring sacrifice to Venus in the Ile of Cyprus.

honour thee, if not, I die;
For what is life where discontent doth raigne,
But such a farme as we would faine disclaime?

Venus much mou'd with his obsequious prayers,
And liquid teares, his suite did satisfie,
Infusing breath into her senslesse veines,
Now full of iuyce, life, and agilitie;
Which being done, the Picture mou'd, not missing
To lure Pigmalion to her lips with kissing,
Reaping great ioy and comfort in their toying,
Depriu'd before of blisse, blest now enioying.

Blest in enioying and possessing that,
Which doth include true Loues felicitie,
Where two are made ioynt owners of one state,
And though distinct, made one by vnitie;
Happie then I, (Pigmalion did reply,)
That haue possession of this Deitie,
No humane creature but a Parragon,
Whose liuelesse forme once Nimphs admired on.

This said, she streight retires vnto the place,
Where she her moulding had, by whom she now
(I meane Pigmalion) obtain'd such grace,
As He her maker and her husband too,
Tooke such content in his now-breathing wife,
As they scaree differ'd once in all their life,
But this was then: Let this suffice for praise,
Few wiues be of her temper now adaies.

The faire and fruitfull daughter He begat,

106

Of this same liuely Image had to name,
Papho the faire, a wench of Princely state,
From whence Ile Paphos appellation came,
Consecrate vnto Venus, beauties Queene,
By whose aspect that Ile is euer greene;
Wherein there is a pleasant Mirtle-groue,
Where a shrine stands to shew Pigmalions loue.

THE SIXT SATYRE. [OF PARTIALITIE.]

Pytheas a Lawyer of no small respect,
Garded, regarded, dips his tongue in gold,

107

And culls his phrase, the better to effect
What He and his penurious Client would;
Upon his backe for all his anticke showes,
More clothes He weares then how to pay He knowes.

And what's the reason; he hath Law at will,
Making a good face of an euill matter,
And euery day his thirstie purse can fill;
With gold thou liest; with nought but wind and water:
Ile tell thee why, Platoes new Commonweale,
Makes Pytheas leaue off pleading, and go steale.

What Pytheas, steale? is't possible, that He
That had a Pomander still at his nose,
That was perfum'd with balls so fragrantly,
Should now another trade of liuing choose?
He must and will, nor dare He show his face
Halfe casement-wide, that open'd many a case.

The other day but walking on the streete,
I saw his veluet gerkin layd to pawne,
His graue Gregorian, for his head more meete,
Then Brokers shop, and his best pleading gowne;
Nay which was more, marke Pytheas conscience,
There lay to pawne his Clients euidence.

But it's no maruell, Pride must haue a fall,
Who was on Cockhorse borne through Fortunes streame,
Is now cashier'd from th' Areopagites Hall,
And on each bulke becomes a common theame:
O blest vacation, may thou neuer cease,
But still haue power to silence such as these!

108

Well, farewell Law, if Lawyers can be poore,
For I esteem'd them onely blest in this,
That Danaes lap with gold-distilling shower,
Had made them line all heires to earthly blisse:
But since these conscript fathers we adore,
Feele want of wealth, we'le worship them no more.

109

THE SEVENTH SATYRE. [OF INGRATITVDE.]

Vngrateful Greece, that scornes a man made poore
Respecting not the treasure of his mind,
Whose want of wealth must shut him out of doore;
The world's no friend to him that cannot find
A masse of gold within their mouldred cell,
No matter how they get it, ill or well.

This I experienc'd of, may well perceiue,
Euen

Whose fathers was Cypselus, descending from the Heraclyd familie.

Periander I, of late a Sage
Of stately Greece, whom now she'le not receiue,
Because opprest with want, surpriz'd with age;
Euen I, that of the

Ephorus was among the Lacedemonians as Tribunus among the Romans.

Ephori was one,
One of the chief'st, but now retires alone.

Yet not alone, though none resort to me,
For wisedome will haue sociats to frequent her:
And though proud Greece frō hence should banish thee,
Friends thou hast store, will knocke and knocking enter:
And firme friends too, whose vertues are so pure,
Uice may assay, but cannot them allure.

110

With what respect was I once grac'd by you,
You gorgeous outsides, Fortunes painted wall,
When rich; but poore, you bid my rags adue,
Which did at first my troubled mind appall;
But noting well the

Be not afraid (saith Petrarch) though the house (the bodie be shaken) so the soule, (the guest of the body) farewell. Petrarch. de Remed. vtriusque fortunæ.

worlds inconstant course,
I thought her scorne could make me little worse.

Remorcelesse Greece, wert thou of marble made,
Thou might shed teares to see thy Sage dismaide,
By whose direction thou hast oft bene stayd,
When both thy hope decreast, and fame decaid;
Both which restor'd by Him, got that report,
To Him and his, as thou admir'd him for't.

Yet canst thou not discerne, twixt wisedomes straine,
And those discording tones of vanitie,
For all thy ayme is benefite and gaine,
And these are they thou makes thy Deitie;
To second which, this caution thou doest giue,
Who know not to dissemble, cannot liue.

I know thy follies, and will brute them too,
For thou hast mou'd my splene, and I must speake,

Demæmadis saying was, that Dracoes lawes were written with bloud and not with inke.

Since thou applies no salue to cure my woe,
I must complaine perforce, or heart-strings breake;
Iustice is turn'd to wormewood in your land,
And corrupt dealing gets the vpper hand.

You itch (and out of measure) with desire
Of hearing nouelties, and strange deuices,
And scorch'd with heate of lusts-enraged fire,
Set marks of Loue, make sale of Venus prizes:

111

Broad-spreading vice, how deare so'ere it cost,
To purchase it, you'le vye with who bids most.

You Hydra-headed monsters full of poyson,
Infecting euery place with stinking breath,
What ere proceeds from you is very noysome,
And like the Basiliske procuring death:
I care not for your hatred, if your loue
Like Tritons ball, with such inconstance moue.

These fleering flies which flicker to and fro,
And beate the vaine ayre with their rusling wings,
Be their owne foes, and they professe them so,
When they their wings with flames of furie cinge;
For they whose hate pursues a guiltlesse one,
With

Ixions wheele, Tantalus apples, and Sysiphus stone: peculiar punishments inflicted on these persons for their lust, auarice, & crueltie, as the Poets faine.

Sysiphus do role his restlesse stone.

You cannot grieue me with your enmitie,
Nor much offend me with your hatefull breath,
For ill-mens loue and hate, are equally
Priz'd by the good, whose chiefest aime is death,
And how to die: for much it doth not skill,
What ill-men speake of vs, or good or ill.

What golden promises did I receiue,
Yet see their issue; base contempt and scorne
Ore my deiected state triumphed haue:
So as proud Greece vnmindfull to performe
What merit craues, and what she's bound to do,
Neglects my want, and glories in it too.

Bias my Brother-sage I now remember,

112

Shipwrack'd in Priene Ile, whose wofull case
Seemes to resemble fate-crost Periander,
Like Ianus statue, shewing face to face;
Let's then, since equall fortune frownes on either,
(Kind Bias) sound our wofull plaints together.

Let Priene Ile relate thy hard mischance,
Let

Or Corinth in Greece.

Greece bewaile my fall, my ruin'd state,
Thou while on Sea thy exil'd ship doth lance,
Thou lightly weighes th' inconstancie of fate:
Rouze Periander then, that't may be said,
Thy patience hath thy fortune conquered.

Get thee to Schooles, where pure Phylosophie
In publicke places is sincerely taught,
And thou shalt heare, there's no calamitie,
Can dant a spirit resolu'd to droupe with nought
That want or woe can menace, for though woe,
Make good-men wretched seeme, they are not so.

Well may misfortunes fall on our estate,
Yet they're no blemish to our inward worth,
For these are but the gifts of purblind fate,
That domineers sole soueraignesse on earth;
But we are placed in an higher seate,
Then to lie prostrate at Dame Fortunes feete.

Her palsie hand wherewith she holds her ball,
Moues with each blast of mutabilitie,
And in whose lap she lists, she lets it fall,
Thus mocks she man with her inconstancie;
Then who is he (if wise) esteemes her treasure,

113

No sooner giuen, then tane when we displease her.

She faunes, she frownes, she lasts not out a Moone,
But waines each month, and waining doth decrease:
Those whom she did aduance, she now throwes downe,
And those which lik'd Her once, do now displease:
Thou reeling wheele, that moues so oft a day,
That weaues thy weft, and takes thy web away.

Titus that Prince so much admir'd by men,
Stiled Mans Darling for his curtuous mind,
Did thinke all powers by fate to haue their raigne,
As if she had no limits Her assign'd,
But (though deuinely-learn'd) did erre in this,
For fates be rul'd by supreme Deities.

Then why should I (fond man) so much depend,
Vpon a Creature, which hath her existing
In a Superiour power, and doth extend
No further then heauens please? for her subsisting,
Essence, power, Empire, soueraigne command,
Hath her direction from Iehouahs hand.

Rest thee then Periander, and despise
Uulgar opinion swaide by multitude,
Thou was esteemed once for to be wise,
Shew it in publicke; let liues enterlude
Acted by thee vpon this worlds stage,
Contemne that Greece which scornes distressed age.

119

THE EIGHTH SATYRE. [OF FLATTERIE.]

Terpnus Musician to a tyrant Prince,
Nero by name, did in the funeralls
Which were solemniz'd on his mothers hearse,
Sing on his Lute these wofull tragicalls:
Where euery straine he strooke vpon his string,
Did vexe the conscience of the tyrant king.

Incestuous Oedipus who flue his father,
Married his mother, and did violate
The law of nature, which aduis'd him rather
Single to liue, then take to such a state,
Becomes a subiect fit, for this sad hearse,
Where inke giues place to bloud to write her verse.

Cruell Orestes bath'd his ruthlesse sword,
Estrang'd from strangers, in his mothers blood,
So little pittie did the child afford
To Her, that was the parent of the brood;
Yet some excuse for this Orestes had,
Mad men exemption haue, and He was mad.

Sphinx subtile Giant, who did riddles put
Unto each passenger He met withall,
Which, who could not resolue He peece-meale cut,
Throwing them frō steepe rocks whence they should fall,
Whereby their members broke and crush'd in peeces,
Remain'd as food in Sea to sillie fishes.

Yet this he did vpon mature aduice,

120

For who so'ere He were assoil'd this question,
Was not opprest by him in any wise,
But might with safest conduct trauell on;
Where thou foule Matricide doest infants vex,
Without respect of person, state, or sex.

There is no sex which may exempted be,
From thy insatiate hand embrew'd in blood,
But waxing proud in others miserie,
Doest tyrannize vpon poore womanhood:
Blood-thirsty Tyrant there's prepar'd a doome,
To startle thee that rip'd thy mothers wombe.

Rauing Orestes heard a furious crie,
Which did attend his phrensie to his graue,
And did disturbe his restlesse sleepe thereby,
So as saue troubled dreames He nought could haue:
With many broken sleepes. to shew his guilt,
Of his deare mothers bloud, which He had spilt.

Which poore Orestes had no sooner heard,
Then to his pillow in a dismall sort,
Streight He retir'd, and being much afeard,
Lest hell and horror should conuent him for't,
With hands lift vp to heauen and hideous crie,
He oft would curse himselfe, and wish to die.

Turne me (ye gods) quoth he, to some wild beast,

Orestes imprecation.

Some sauage Lion, or some Tyger fierce,
Since I delight so much in bloud to feast,
For who can with remorse my deeds rehearse?
Which if time should with her obliuion smother,

121

Bloud cries reuenge, reuenge me cries my mother.

Worse then the beasts thou art, they cherish them,
And bring their parents food when they grow old:
Who then can daigne to looke on thee for shame,
That hast defac'd that forme that gaue thee mold?
The tender

Basilius hom. 8. 9.

Storke that sees her parents lack,
Will bring them food, and beare them on her back.

But thou a mirrour of impietie,
Depriues thy parent of her vitall breath,
And makes her subiect to thy cruelty,
Thus she that gaue thee life, thou giues her death:
A sweete reward; O then ashamed be,
Thou staine of Greece, that Greece should harbor thee.

Thus would Orestes frame his sad discourse,
With words as vile as were his actions foule,
To moue his phrenticke passions to remorse,
Which long (too long) had triumpht ore his soule;
Nor could he find vnto his woes reliefe,
Till

He was so vexed with furies (the revengers of his mothers bloud) that he wandered mad vp and downe till he came to Taurica, where he found an end of his troubles.

death did end his life, and cure his griefe.

If all his teares and ruthfull miseries,
Could neuer expiate his mothers death,
To what extent shall thy calamities
Grow to in time, that stops thy mothers breath,
Euen Agrippinaes breath, whose cursed birth,
Maks her to curse the wombe that brought thee forth?

This Nero notes, and noting shewes his ire,
By outward passions, yet concealeth it,

122

Resolu'd ere long to pay the minstrels hire,
When time and opportunitie should fit;
For tyrants haue this propertie 'boue other,
They meane reuenge, yet their reuenge cā smother

And so did Nero, whose perplexed mind,
Guilty of what was ill, seem'd to admire
His Art in Musicke, rather then to find
Any distast, lest He should shew the fire,
Which lay rak'd vp in ashes, and display
What time might sleight, but could not take away.

Yet he began to scoule and shake the head,
With eyes as fierie-red as Ætnaes hill,
Willing him streight to other acts proceed,
And silence them that parents bloud did spill:
Sing to thy Lute (quoth he) straines of delight,
To cheare th' attendants of this wofull

Agrippinaes funerals.

sight.

Terpnus did passe vnto another theame,
Yet still relates He in the end of all,
The facts of Oedipus, Orestes shame,
How and by what effects succeed'd their fall;
Whereby (as well it was by all perceiued)
Nero the tyrant inwardly was grieued.

Terpnus continu'd in his Lyricke ode,
So long as Nero in his throne remained,
But now impatient longer of abode,
Wearied with audience (for so he feined)
Terpnus left off from prosecuting further,
The sad relation of this cruell

For which no law amongst the Pagans was enacted: imagining, none could be so brutish as commit such vnnaturall cruelty.

murther.

123

But see the Tyrant, who before delighted
More with the musicke of good Terpnus lyre,
Then any thing which ere his soule affected,
Neuer more straines of Terpnus did require;
For being grieu'd, each day his grieues increased,
Till Terpnus exile made his grieues appeased.

Yet not

For hauing slaine his mother, he saw in his sleepe a ship, the rudder whereof was wrested from him guiding it, whence he was baled by Octan. to most hideous darknesse. ibid.

appeased, for each day each night,
He heard the hideous cries of Furies shriking:
Oft would He turne himselfe before day-light,
But got no rest, his bodie out of liking,
Yet tyranniz'd in spilling bloud apace,
Act vpon act as one bereft of grace.

Sometimes He saw his mother haling him,
With wombe new-rip'd; there Sporus who He sought,
To make of man a woman drag him in;
Here sundrie Matrons whom he forc'd to nought,

Like the vision appeared to Tiberius crying out —Redde Germanicum.

And slue defil'd, which fix'd on Him their eye,
Which seene, He fled, but flying could not flie,

O conscience, what a witnesses thou brings,
'Gainst Him that iniures thee, where no content
Can giue houres respite to the state of kings,
Thou of thy selfe art sole-sufficient,
To hale or heale, to hale from life to death,
Or heale the wound of which he languisheth?

Behold here Terpnus courage, to correct
The great abuses of his Princes mind,
Whose pompe, port, power, He lightly doth respect,
To taxe those crimes to which He is inclin'd:

124

He's no Court-Adder that will winde him in,
To Princes grace by praising of his sinne.

O I could wish we had such Terpni many,
Who would not sooth nor flatter, but auouch,
Blacke to be blacke: but there's I feare not any,
Too few at least, I doubt me rightly such;
And yet me thinks such Phœnix's might build here,
Within this Ile, as well as other where.

Seianus, let him bloome in other coasts,
And purchase honour with his flatterie,
Let his aspiring thoughts make priuate boasts,
To raise his Fortunes to a monarchie,
He cannot prosper here, for why, we know,
State-ruine from Court-parasites may grow.

So Seian thought (what haue not Traitors thought)
To currie fauour with the Senators,
The better to atchieue what He had wrought,
By secret plots with his conspirators;
Faire-tong'd false-heart, whose deepe-cōtriuing braine
Gaue way to ruine, where He thought to raigne.

But He's well gone, Rome is dispatch'd of one
That would haue made combustion in the state,
Whose death made Hers reioyce, but His to mone,
Who on his fall built their vnhappie fate;
For Treason like a linked chaine doth show,
Which broke in one, doth breake in others too.

Next whom Perennius, whose affected grace,

125

Italian-like, seem'd as compos'd by art,
May for his smoothing humour take the place,
Who sole-possessor of a Princes heart,
The youthfull Commodus, did so allure him,
As his aduice seemes onely to secure him.

Faire Prince (quoth he) if any worldly wight,

A Parasite-pandar.

May solace those faire corps fram'd curiously,
Expresse Her onely when she comes in sight,
And I your pleasure soone will satisfie;
Your Unckle he's too strict, he's too seuere,
To coupe you vp in silence alwaies here.

What priuiledge haue Princes more then we,
If they depriued be of open aire?
What comfort reape they in their Empirie,
If Nestor-like, they still sit in their chaire?
No, no, deare Prince, you know a Prince is borne
To be his subiects terror, not their scorne.

No Theater rear'd in your royall Court,
Turney, lust, Barrier, should solemniz'd be,
To which a Romane Prince should not resort,
Amazing Ladies with his maiestie;
O then it is a shame for your estate,
To seeme in ought for to degenerate!

How gorgeously did Rome demeane her then,
When young Vitellius did

Banketting ouer three times, and now and then foure times aday. in vit. Vitell.

banket it,
Seruing at table miriads of men,
With lustie Ladies which did reuell it?
Yet you more high in state, more ripe in wit,

126

Must Hermit-like in cell retired sit.

Shake off these Sages which do now attend you,
For they like fetters do restraine your pace;
Giue lustfull youth in euery part his due,
Let sprightly gallants take the Sages place,
By which enthron'd secure, you may command,
As Ioue erst did, with Io in his hand.

This did Perennius moue, and tooke effect,
Greene thoughts receiue too aptly wanton seede,
Remaining with the Prince in chiefe respect,
As they are wont, who Princes humours feed;
Till He conspiring to vsurpe the crowne,
Amidst his honours was cast headlong downe.

Where he receiu'd a doome that seru'd for all,
(Like doome still breath on such infectious breath)
For soring thoughts must haue as low a fall,
Whose fauning liues play prologue to their death:
For well I know no bane on earth can be
Worse to the State then rust of flatterie.

Then should these last-ensuing times beware,
Lest they commit offences of like kind,
Which in the common wealth procure that iarre,
As by their proiects we subuersion find:
For they depraue the vertues of the best,
And in the highest Cedars build their nest.

Sycites, he whose sycophants pretence,
Made wofull hauocke of his Common weale,

127

Abusing much his Princes innocence,
At last by time (as time will all reueale)
Became displeasde, who as He was a fo
Vnto the state, the state adiudg'd him so.

AN ADMONITION.

Be thou a Terpnus to restraine abuse,
Sin-training pleasures fraught with vanitie;
Be thou no Seian, no Perennius,
To humour vice to gaine a Monarchie;
Be not Sycites, let examples moue thee,
And thou wilt cause the Commonweale to loue thee.

129

THE NINTH SATYRE. [OF EPICVRISME.]

That Epicurus who of late remained
Subiect to euery fowle impietie,
Now with distempers and night-surfets pained,
Bids mirth adue, his sole felicitie:
His vrine stopt wants passage from his vaines,
Which giues increase to his incessant paines.

Yet feeles He not his soules-afflicted woe,
Unmindfull (wretched man) of her distresse,
But pampers that which is his greatest foe,
And first procur'd his soules vnhappinesse:
He cannot weepe, He cannot shed a teare,

130

But dying laughs, as when He liued here.

His Bon-companions drinking healths in wine,
Carousing flagons to his health receiuing,
Whose sparkling noses taper-like do shine,
Offer him drinke whose

Resembling one Elderton, on whom this inscription was writ: here lieth drunken Elderton, in earth now thrust: what said I thrust? nay rather here lies thirst. In Rem. of a greater worke.

thirstie mind is crauing:
For though He cannot drinke, yet his desire
Is to see others wallow in the mire.

Turne him to heauen He cannot, for He knowes not
Where heauens blest mansion hath her situation:
Tell him of heauens fruition, and he shewes not
The least desire to such a contemplation:
His sphere inferiour is, whose vanitie
Will suite no court so well as Tartarie.

He hath no comfort while He liueth here,
For He's orewhelmed with a sea of griefe,
And in his death as little ioy appeares,
For death will yeeld him small or no reliefe:
He thought no pleasure after life was ended,
Which past, his fading comforts be extended.

Horror appeares euen in his ghastly face,
And summons (wofull summons) troups of diuels,
Whilst He benumn'd with sinne reiecteth grace,
The best receit to cure soule-wounding euils:
Forlorne He liues, and liues because He breaths,
But in his death sustaines a thousand deaths.

Ungratefull viper, borne of vipers brood,
That hates thy parent, braues ore thy Protector,

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Whose seruile life did neuer any good;
But hugging vice, and spurne Him did correct her;
See how each plant renewes and giues increase,
By him, whom stones would praise, if man should ceasse.

Nor plant, nor worme, nor any senslesse creature,
Will derogate from Gods high Maiestie,
Since they from him, as from the supreme Nature,
Receiue their vigour, grouth, maturitie,
Substance, subsistence, essence, all in one,
From Angels forme vnto the senslesse stone.

But time hath hardn'd thy depraued thoughts,
Custome of sin hath made thy sin, no sin;
Thus hast thou reap'd the fruite thy labours sought,
And dig'd a caue in which thou wall west in;

The Epicures Cave.

The Porter of which caue, is reproch and shame,
Which layes a lasting scandall on thy name.

A swine in mind, though Angell-like in forme,
Preposterous end to such a faire beginning,
That Thou, whom such a feature doth adorne
As Gods owne Image, should be soild with sinning;
Who well may say of it thus drown'd in pleasures,
This Superscription is not mine but Cæsars.

Thou wantest grace, and wanting, neuer callest,
Nessled in mischiefe and in discontent;
Thou who from light to darknesse headlong fallest,
Hauing the platforme of thy life mispent,
Rouse thee Thou canst not, for securitie
Hath brought thy long sleepe to a Lethargie.

132

Dull Dormouse, sleeping all the winter time,
Cannot endure the breath of aire or winde,
But euer loues to make the Sunne to shine
Vpon her rurall Cabbin; that same mind
Art Thou endew'd withall, All winter keeping
Thy drunken cell, spends halfe thy life in sleeping.

Thou when thou read'st in stories of the Ant,
The painfull Be, the early-mounting Larke,
Thou cals them fooles, for Thou hadst rather want,
Pine, droupe, and die in pouertie then carke:
Thou thinks there is no

According to that of the Poet.—No pleasure but to swill, And full, to emptie, and being emptie, fill.

pleasure, but to dwell
In that vast Tophet Epicurean cell.

Art thou so sotted with earths worldly wealth,
That thou expects no life when this is ended?
Do'st thou conceiue no happinesse in health,
If health in healths be not profanely spended?
Well there's small hope of thee, and thou shalt find,
Sinne goes before, but vengeance dogs behind.

Thou canst not tell by thy Philosophie,
Where th' glorious Synod of the Angels sit,
Nor canst thou thinke soules immortalitie,
Should any mortall creature well befit:
Unfit thou art for such a prize as this,
Which Saints haue wish'd to gaine, and gain'd their wish.

Thou sings strange Hymnes of loue of shepeard-swains,
How Amarillis and Pelargus woed,
Where in loue measures thou employes some paines,
To make thy works by wanton eares allow'd;

133

For loues encounter loose wits can expresse it,
But for diuine power they will scarce confesse it.

Thus should each sinne of thine vnmasked be,
Each crime deblazon'd in her natiue colour:
There would appeare such a deformitie,
As th' Greeke Thersites shape was neuer fowler;
Which if compar'd to th' powerfull works of grace,
Would looke agast, asham'd to show their face.

If I should moue thee, rectifie thy cares,
I know twere fruitlesse, all thy care's to sinne,
Whose barren haruest intersowne with tares,
Endeth farre worse then when it did begin;
A ranke indurate vlcerous hard'ned ill,
Can ill be bett'red till it haue her fill.

And yet when as this phrenticke mood shall leaue thee,
There is some hope of gaine-recouerie,
When thy offensiue life mispent shall grieue thee;
Thy wound's not mortall, looke for remedie;
But if like Epicure thou still doest lie,
As thou liues ill, so doubt I thou must die.

134

THE TENTH SATYRE. [OF BRIBERIE.]

Diagoras was once to pleade a cause,
Which th' aduerse partie hauing well obserued,
Claps me a guilded goblet in his clawes,
Which He as priuately (forsooth) reserued;
Speake (quoth this client) either nought at all,
Or else absent you from the sessions hall.

Absent He would not be, and yet as good,
For his mute tongue was absent in the cause,
Saying, the cause he had not vnderstood,
And therefore wish'd that he a while might pause;
But hauing paus'd too long, through his delay
The Court dismist, the Senat went away.

Seeing the Senate gone, good gods (quoth he)
Can we not haue our causes heard, whose truth
Is manifest as light? ô thus we see
Our Clients wrong'd, whose wrongs afford much ruth:

135

I would not answer this before Ioues throne,
If I thereby might make the world mine owne.

Nought to a conscience pure and void of blame,
Which (Ioue be prais'd) is in this spotlesse brest,
For no foule act could blemish ere my name,
No corrupt bribe did ere enrich my chest;
Yes one (the Clyent answer'd) you know when:
It's true indeed (my friend) and nere but then.

Yes once you know (another answer'd) more,
When you protested the Angina pain'd you,
For which corruption, you had gold in store,
That silent speech of yours abundance gain'd you:
It's true indeed, yet there's none can conuict me,
That ere my conscience for these did afflict me.

Nay that He sweare (quoth one) I neuer knew
Remorce of conscience or relenting teare:
That heart of yours aid nere repentance shew,
But could take more, if that you did not feare
You should detected be, and your offence,
As

There were certaine images of Iudges (by report) set vp at Athens, hauing neither hands, nor eyes: implying that Rulers and Magistrates should neither be infected with bribes, nor any otherway drawne from that which was lawfull and right. But most happiest were those dayes wherein Basil the Emperour of Constantinople liued, that whensoeuer he came to his iudgment seate, he found neither partie to accuse, nor defendant to answer.

iustice craues, should giue you recompence.

Thus as they talk'd, thus as they did discourse,
In came a Senatour, which did reueale,
His corrupt dealings, for He did enforce
Himselfe to publish what He did conceale:
Whose crimes diuulg'd, He presently was led
To Coos hauen, whence He was banished.

Thus was a corrupt Orator conuicted,

136

Pressing himselfe with his owne obloquie,
Whose selfe-detection made his state afflicted,
His hands the weauers of his tragedie;
Which I could wish to all of like desert,
Whose good profession's made a guilefull art.

THE ELEVENTH SATYRE ELEGIACK. [OF INUENTION.]

Aged Triptolemus father of our field,
That teacheth vs thy children rare effects;
We do vnto thy sacred Temple yeeld
The fruits we reape, and tender all respects

137

To thee, that hast this rare inuention found,
And gaue first light of tillage to our ground.

Describe we cannot in exact discourse,
Those rarer secrets which proceed from thee,
For polish'd words with vs haue little force,
That are inured to Rusticitie;
But what we can we'le do, and to that end,
To thee (as Patron) we our fields commend.

By thee we till the wilde vntempered soile,
Make rising hillocks champion and plaine;
Where though with early labour we do toile,
Yet labour's light where there is hope of gaine:
We thinke no hurt, but trauell all the day,
And take our rest, our trauels to allay.

No proiect we intend against the State,
But cuts the bosome of our Mother earth;
We giue no way to passion or debate;
By labour we preuent our Countries dearth:
Yet this ascribe we not to our owne part,
But vnto thee, that did inuent this art.

Those glorious Trophies which Menander set,
In honour of the sacred Deities,
Would be too long a subiect to repeate,
Rear'd in such state with such solemnities;
Yet these to ours, inferiour be in worth,
Those were of earth, these tell vs vse of earth.

We ope the closet of our mothers breast,

138

And till the sedgie ground with crooked plough,
And in the euening take our quiet rest,
When we the heate of day haue passed through:
Thus do we sow, thus reape, and reaping we
Do consecrate our first fruites vnto thee.

And with our fruites our wonted Orisons,
With solemne vowes to thy obsequious shrine,
Whose dedication merits heauenly songs,
Will we protest what's ours is euer thine;
For what we haue came from thy deuine wit,
Or from His power that first infused it.

By thee we plant the Uine and Oliue tree,
Contriue coole harbors to repose and lie:
By thee our Uine sends grapes forth fruitfully,
The Almond, Chestnut, and the Mulberrie;
Thus Saturns golden age approcheth neare,
And (Flora-like) makes spring-time all the yeare.

The pleasant banks of faire Parnassus mount,
With trees rank-set and branchie armes broad-spred,
The Mirtle-trees hard by Castalias fount,
With flowrie wreaths thy shrine haue honoured;
'Mongst which, no Iland's more oblig'd to thee,
Then this same Ile of famous Britannie.

As in some parts of Egypt, which (though elsewhere exceeding fruitfull) through extremitie of heate become to the people inhabitable.

Others intemporate through parching heate,
Haue their fruites blasted ere they come to light,

As in Scythia, which region in most places is so cold, as fruites can come to no ripenesse. For as the Astrologers are of opinion, there is a certaine breadth in the heauen, on earth from North to South, bounded out by some of the principall Circles, of the which are 3 in all: one fierie betweene the two Tropicks which is called Zona Torrida: two extreme cold, betweene the Polare circles and the Poles of the wold: and two temporate betweene either of the Polare circles and his next Tropicke.

Others are planted in a colder seate,

139

Whereby the Sun-beames seldome show their might;
But we (and therein blest) inhabite one,
Which as it's fruitfull, it's a temp'rate Zone.

How can we then if we do ought, do lesse
Then labour to requite as we receiue?
For such a burning wind's vnthankefulnesse,
As by it we do lose that which we haue:
Let each then in his ranke obserue his measure,
And giue Him thanks that gaue Him such a treasure.

How many regions haue their fruites deuoured,
By th' Caterpiller, Canker, Palmerworme?
Whil'st by thy grace so richly on vs powred,
Our fields reioyce, and yeeld increase of corne;
O then admire we this great worke of thine,
Whereby all regions at our state repine!

Repine they may, for we surpasse their state,
In power, in riches, sinewes of sharpe warre;
They led in blindnesse attribute to fate,
What ere befall, we to the morning starre,
By which we are directed euery day,
Or else like wandring sheepe might loose our way.

Hesiod relates seuen fortunate reposes,
Ilands, which Fortune fauours for their seate,
Adorn'd with fruitfull plants sent-chafing roses;
Where there breaths euer a soile-cherishiag heate,
By which the plants receiue their budding power,
And needs no other dew, no other shower.

140

Iles in the ocean foure hundred miles frō Spaine

These fruitfull Ilands which this Poet shewes,
Were seated farre within the Ocean,
And neuer warr'd as other Ilands vse,
Being in peacefull league with euery man:
Confer now these together, and then see
If this blest Iland be not Brittannie.

Blest were those Ilanders that did possesse
The fertile borders of those healthfull Iles.
And we as blest haue no lesse happinesse,
In this our Ile, not stretch'd to many miles;
Though when those

The two vniversities

streames of Hellicon appeares,
It doubles fruites in doubling of her yeares.

Thames full as pleasant as Euphrates flood,
Though she containe not in her precious nauell,
The

Tagus, Ganges, and Pacteolus three riuers famous for their golden oare or grauell.

golden oare of Ganges, yet as good
As any gold or any golden grauell,
Transporting hence, and bringing here againe,
Gaine to the Citie by their fraught of graine.

Thus water, ayre, and earth, and all vnite
Their powers in one, to benefit our state,
So as conferring profit with delight,
Well may we tearme this Iland fortunate;
For we more blest then other Iles haue bin,
Enioy both peace without and peace within.

Vnto his altar let vs then repaire,
That hath conferd these blessings on our land,
And sure we are to find him present there,
Apt to accept this offring at our hand;

141

Where, as He hath remembred vs in peace,
We'le yeeld him fruites of soules and soiles increase.

To thee then (blessed Deitie) is meant,

The true explanation of this Elegie.

This vot all sacrifice, how ere we speake,
Of old Triptolemus thy instrument;
For midst inuentions we will euer seeke
To raise thy praise, who hast thy Throne aboue vs,
And daily shewes that thou doest dearely loue vs.

142

THE TWELFTH SATYRE. [OF DISDAINE.]

Melonomus a worthie shepheard swaine,
Besotted with faire Cynthia's amorous face,
Beseeched Her to loue for loue againe,
And take compassion on his wofull case;
Which she halfe-yeelding to, dissembling too,
Did moue the swaine more eagerly to woo.

And that with gifts most powerfull to ensnare
The minds of maids, whose curious appetite,
Desires as they be faire to haue things faire,
To adde fresh fuell vnto loues delight;
Which to effect, each morne a flowrie wreath,
Compos'd the swaine, to breath on Cynthia's breath.

Fine comely bracelets of refined Amber,
Vsed this Shepheard swaine to tender her,
And euery morne resorting to her chamber,
Would there appeare ere Phœbus could appeare,
Where telling tales as shepheards vse to tell,
She forc'd a smile, as though she lik'd Him well.

Thus poore Melonomus continued long,

Thus at Loues barre this Client doubtfull stands, And weepes, & wipes, & wrings and wreathes his hands.

Hoping for resolution at her hands,
Whilest with delayes He mixed gifts among,
Which (as He thought) were fancies strongest bands;
And still He craues dispatch of his request,
And to performe what she in show profest.

143

But she, from day to day puts off, replying,
She scarce resolued was to marrie yet:
But when his gifts surceast, she flat denying,
Answer'd, A swaine was for a Queene vnfit;
He rurall, homely, bred of meane descent,
She royall-borne, of purer Element.

Melonomus thus answer'd, wisely fram'd
This graue reply: And is it so indeed?
Be all those gifts I gaue (all which He nam'd)
To no effect? why then returne and feed

A sudden resolution requiting her sudden disdaine.

Thy want on flocke, surceasse thy bootlesse suite,
Since she consum'd thy flocke with all their fruite.

Aged Alomænon who my father was,

I cānot trull is I, nor fancie all I see, if she be faire, wise and an heire, that girle liketh me.

And as I guesse knew well the shepheards guise,
Thought scorne to set his loue on euery lasse,
Aye me vnhappie, of a sire so wise;
But this disdaine that lowres on beauties brow,
Shall teach me, swaines with swaines know best to do.

The skipping Rams that butt with ragged hornes,
And brouz vpon each banke with sweeter repast,
Shall not my iealous head with wreathes adorne,
(But heauen forgiue my follie that is past;)
I will not fancie Cynthia, since she
In my distresse scornes to conuerse with me.

145

THE THIRTEENTH SATYRE. [OF IDOLATRIE.]

Protagoras both wicked and profane,
Wicked in life, profane in worshipping,
Adored stones: (see Pagans, see your shame)
And thought them worthie too of reuerencing;
For if the gods be honoured, said He,
Needs must the stones whereof their Temples be.

The like conceit He had of altars too,
And of the stones whereof they were erected,
To which He oft would solemne worship doe,

146

And taxe such men by whom they were neglected;
Wishing sometime He were an altar stone,
That to himselfe like honour might be done.

A iust reproofe to all Idolaters.

Thou senslesse man depriu'd of reasons lore,
What grace art thou (forlorne) endewd withall,
That thou shouldst shrines and senslesse stones adore,
That haue no eares to heare when thou doest call?
Thou deemes these relikes happie, when god wot,
If they were happie, yet they know it not.

The Altar is the shrine thou offrest to,
Thy incense, sacrifice, and fat of beasts,
Which on the altar thou art wont to do,
Not to the altar where thou makes request;
For it's enioynd thee by expresse command,
To kneele to nothing fashion'd by mans hand.

The Manuall artist sets vp heapes of stones,
Erecting curious Statues to adore,
But what are these, can they attend our mones?
No, they haue eares to heare, but heare no more
Then rubbish, clay, or stone, whereof they'r said,
(And such were Pagan Idols) to be made.

Turne thee vnto the East, from whence the Sunne
Hath his arising, whence He doth proceed,
As Bridegroome from his chamber, and doth run
His spacious course with such a passing speed,
As twentie foure houres He doth onely borrow,
To post the world from end to end quite thorow.

147

Each plant on earth, each creature in the sea,
From whence haue they their grouth, I pray thee say?
Do they deriue't from stones or imagerie?
Nay, I must tell thee, thou art by the way,
It's no inferiour power brings this to passe,
But his, who is, shall be, and euer was.

And he it is who notes thy errors past,
And can reuenge, though He the time adiourne,
Whose loue vnto his sheepe doth euer last,
And still expects and waits for thy returne;
But how can He to thee in kindnesse shew him,
That giues thee hands, yet will not lift them to him?

Ungratefull thou to haue that ill conceit,
Of his all-being and all-seeing power,
Whose blest tuition guards vs and our state,
Whose surest hold is like a fading flower,
That springs and dies, such is the pompe of man,
As there He ends in earth where He began.

Horror of men, contempt to thy beginning,
Shame to the world, wherein thou doest suruiue.
Whose best religion is an act of sinning,
In which thou meanes to die, and loues to liue;
What shall these shrines affoord thee after death,
The breath of life? no, for they haue no breath.

Then here Ile leaue thee, yet with sorrow too,
Thy Image moues compassion, though't may be,
Thou'lt aske the reason why I should do so,
Since sorrowes source hath lost her course in thee;

148

To which, I may in reason thus reply,
My eyes are wet, because thy eyes are dry.

Yet will I to the altar, not t'adore it,
But offer incense to assoile thy sin;
Where full of teares I'le weepe, and weeping ore it,
Wish thy returne, that thou may honour him,
Whose worship thou prophan'd (as was vnfit)
Entitling any creature vnto it.

Three other Satyres composed by the same Author, treating of these three distinct subiects.

1. Tyrannie, personated in Eurystheus.

2. Securitie, in Alcibiades.

3. Reuenge, in Perillus.

With an Embleme of Mortalitie, in Agathocles.

150

THE SATYRE. [OF TYRANNIE.]

Hoe Euristheus, I am hither sent,
From Iunoes Princely pallace to thy Court,
To tell thee, thou must be her instrument,
(And to that purpose she hath chus'd thee for't)
To chastise Hercules, growne eminent
By his renowned conquests: do not show
Thy selfe remisse, Iuno will haue it so.

And Iuno shall; I will such taskes impose,
That earth shall wonder how they were inuented,
So as his life he shall be sure to lose,
What do I care, so Iuno be contented,
Darknesse shall not my secresies disclose?
Her will is my command, nor must I aske
Whence's her distast; come yong man heare your taske

A fruitfull garden, full of choyce delights,
Enricht with sprayes of gold and apples too,
Which by three sisters watch'd both dayes and nights,

151

Yeeld no accesse vnto th' inuading foe,
Is thy first progresse; where with doubtfull sight,
Thou must performe thy taske: this is the first,
Which if it proue too easie, next is worst.

For in this first thou art to deale with women,
And reape a glorious prize when thou hast done;
And such an enterprize (I know) is common,
Crowning vs great by th' triumph we haue wonne:
Gold is so strange a baite, as there is no man,
But he will hazard life to gaine that prize,
Which makes men fooles that are supposed wise.

But next taske shall be of another kind,
No golden apples pluckt from Hesperie:
For in this worke thou nought but dong shalt find,
Augean stables must thy labour be,
Which if thou cleare not, as I haue assign'd,
Death shall attend thee: tis in vaine to come,
By prayers or teares to change my fatall doome.

The third, that hideous Hydra, which doth breed
Increase of heads, for one being cut away,
Another springs vp streight way in her stead:
Hence then away, and make me no delay,
Delay breeds danger, do what I haue said,
Which done thou liues, which vnperform'd thou dies,

He coucheth all his labours (infinite in number and nature) in these three.

This said; Alcydes to his labour hies.

Alas (poore man) how well it may be said,
So many are the perils he must passe,
That he with dangers is inuironed?

152

So hopelesse and so haplesse is his case,
As he by death is so encompassed,
That howsoere his power he meanes to trie,
Poore is his power, he must be forc'd to die.

Imperious tyrant, couldst thou wreake thy rage
On none but such whose valour hath bene showne,
As a victorious Mirror to this age,
And hath bene blaz'd where thou wer't neuer knowne!
Must thou his person to such taskes engage,
As flesh and bloud did neuer yet sustaine?
Well, he must trie, although he trie in vaine.

Yes, he will trie, and act what he doth try,
He'le tug and tew, and striue and stoope to ought,
Yea die, if so with honour he may die,
Yet know, that those who haue his life thus sought,
Are but insulting types of tyrannie,
Whose boundlesse splene, when He hath past these shelues,
Will be disgorg'd, and fall vpon themselues.

For see, thou cruell sauage, whose desire
Extends to bloud, how this aduentr'ous Knight,
Gaines him renowne, and scorneth to retire,
Till he hath got a conquest by his fight:
So high heroick thoughts vse to aspire,
As when extremest dangers do enclose them,
They sleight those foes that labour to oppose them.

Here see those taskes which thy imperious power,
Impos'd this Noble champion, finished;
The Serpent, Hydra, which of heads had store,

153

Now headlesse lies by valour conquered,
The stables purg'd from th' filth they had before,
The golden Apples Trophies of his glorie,
Dilate their ends vnto an endlesse storie.

Here see th' euent where vertue is the aime,
Here see the issue of a glorious mind,
Here see how martiall honour makes her claime,
Here see the crowne to diligence assign'd,
Here see what all may see, a souldiers fame,
Not tipt with fruitlesse titles, but made great,
More by true worth, then by a glorious seate.

For such, whose natiue merit hath attain'd
Renowne 'mongst men, should aduerse gusts assaile thē
In such an Orbe rest their resolues contain'd,
As well they may inuade but not appall them,
For from esteeme of earth they'r wholly wain'd,
Planting their mounting thoughts vpon that sphere,
Which frees such minds as are infranchis'd there.

Hence learne ye Great-ones, who esteeme it good
Sufficient to be great, and thinke't well done,
Be't right or wrong, what's done in heate of blood,
Hence learne your state, lest ye decline too soone,
For few ere firmely stood, that proudly stood.
But specially ye men that are in place,
Iudge others as your selues were in same case.

Here haue you had a mirror to direct
Your wayes, and forme your actions all the better,
Which president if carelesse, ye neglect,

154

And walke not by this line, liue by this letter,
Hows'ere the world may tender you respect,
Ye are but gorgeous paintings daubed ouer,
Clothing your vice with some more precious couer.

Hence likewise learne ye whom the frowne of fate,
Hath so deprest, as not one beame doth shine
Vpon the forlorne mansion of your state,
To beare with patience and giue way to time,
So shall ye vie with Fortune in her hate;
And prize all earths contents as bitter-sweete,
Which armes you 'gainst all fortunes ye can meete.

This great Alcydes did, who did with ease
(For what's vneasie to a mind prepard)
Discomfit th' Hydra and th' Stymphalides,
With whom he cop'd, encountred long and warr'd,
And gain'd him glory by such acts as these.
Obserue this Morall (for right sure I am)
The imitation shewes a perfect man.

The last not least, which may obserued be,
Is to suppresse splene or conceiued hate,
Which in perfidious Nessus you may see,
Fully portraid, who meerely through deceit,
Practis'd Alcydes wofull Tragedy:
For of all passions, there's noone that hath
More soueraignty ore man, then boundlesse wrath.

Which to restraine, (for wherein may man show
Himselfe more manly, then in this restraint)
That there is nought more generous, you should know,

155

Then true compassion to the indigent,
Which euen humanitie faith, that we owe
One to another, while we vse to tender
Loue to our Maker, in him to each member.

Thus if ye do, how low soere ye be,
Your actions make you noble, and shall liue
After your summons of Mortalitie,
And from your ashes such a perfume giue,
As shall eternize your blest memorie:
If otherwise ye liue, ye are at best
But guilded gulls, and by opinion blest.

156

THE SATYRE. [OF SECVRITIE.]

Awake , thou noble Greeke! how should desire,
Of sensuall shame (soules staine) so dull thy wit.

157

Or cloud those glorious thoughts which did aspire,
Once to exploits which greatnesse might befit?
Where now the beamlins of that sacred fire,
Lie rak't in ashes, and of late do seeme
(So ranke is vice) as if they had not bene.

Can a faith-breaking leering Curtizan,
Whose face is glaz'd with frontlesse impudence,
Depresse the spirit of a Noble man,
And make him lose his reason for his fence?
O span thy life (for life is but a span)
And thou shalt find the scantling is so small,
For vaine delights there is no time at all!

Shall azur'd breast, sleeke skin, or painted checke,
Gorgeous attire, locks braided, wandring eye,
Gaine thee delight, when thou delights should seeke
In a more glorious obiect? O relie
On a more firme foundation, lest thou breake,
Credit with Him who long hath giuen thee trust,
Which thou must pay be sure, for he is iust.

O do not then admire, what thy desire
Should most contemne, if reason were thy guide;
Let thy erected thoughts extend farre higher,
Then to these wormelins that like shadowes glide,
Whose borrowed beautie melts with heate of fire.
Their shape from shop is bought and brought; ô art
What canst thou promise to a knowing heart!

A knowing heart, which plants her choicest blisse
In what it sees not, but doth comprehend

158

By eye of faith! not what terrestriall is,
But what affoordeth comfort without end,
Where we enioy whats euer we did wish;
Who then, if he partake but common sence,
Will ere reioyce, till he depart from hence?

Yet see the blindnesse of distracted man,
How he prefers one moment of delight,
(Which cheares not much when it does all it can)
Before delights in nature infinite,
Whose iuyce (yeelds perfect fulnesse, sure I am:)
O times! when men loue that they should neglect,
Disualuing that which they should most respect.

For note how many haue aduentured
Their liues (and happy they if that were all)
And for a painted trunke haue perished;
O England, I thy selfe to witnesse call,
For many hopefull plants haue withered
Within thy bosome, cause whereof did spring,
Mearely from lust, and from no other thing!

How many promising youths, whose precious bloud
Shed by too resolute hazard, might haue done
Their gracious Prince and natiue Countrie good,
In heate of bloud haue to their ruine gone,
While they on termes of reputation stood,
Preferring titles (see the heate of strife)
Before the loue and safetie of their life?

O Gentlemen, know that those eyes of yours,
Which should be piercing like the Eagles eyes,

159

Are not to view these Dalilahs of ours,
But to eye heauen and sullen earth despise,
And so increase in honours as in houres.
O ye should find more happinesse in this,
Then spend the day in courting for a kisse!

Were time as easie purchas'd as is land,
Ye better might dispense with losse of time;
Or 'twere in you to make the Sunne to stand,
So many points t'ascend or to decline,
I'de say ye had the world at command:
But as time past, is none of yours, once gone,
So that time is not yours, which is to come.

Addresse yours selues then to that glorious place,
Where there's no time, no limit to confine,
No alteration: but where such a grace,
Or perfect lustre beautifies the clime,
Where ye'r to liue, as th' choisest chearefullst face,
Ye ere beheld on earth, were't nere so faire,
Shall seeme deformitie to beautie there.

But this shall serue for you! now in a word,
Heare me Timandra (for I must be heard;)
Thou whose light shop all vanities affoord,
Reclaime thy sensuall life, which hath appear'd
As odious and offensiue to thy Lord,
As those lasciuious robes (robes suiting night)
Are in disgrace, when good men are in fight.

More to enlarge my selfe were not so good,
Perhaps this litle's more then thou wilt reade:

160

But if thou reade, I wish't may stirre thy blood,
And moue thee henceforth to take better heed,
Then to transgresse the bounds of womanhood:
Whose chiefest essence in these foure appeare,
In gate, looke, speech, and in the robes you weare.

161

THE SATYRE. [OF REVENGE.]

Braue Enginer, you whose more curious hand
Hath fram'd a Bull of brasse by choycest art,
That as a Trophie it might euer stand,
And be an Embleme of thy cruell heart:
Hearke what's thy tyrant Phalaris command,

162

Whose will's a law; and hauing heard it well,
Thy censure to succeeding ages tell.

Thou must (as it is iust) be first presented
A sacrifice vnto the brazen Bull,
And feele that torture which thy art inuented,
That thou maist be rewarded to the full;
No remedy, it cannot be preuented.
Thus, thus reuenge appeares which long did smother,
He must be catcht, that aimes to catch another.

Iust was thy iudgement, Princely Phalaris,
Thy censure most impartiall; that he
Whose artfull hand that first contriued this,
To torture others, and to humour thee,
Should in himselfe feele what this torture is.
Which great or small, he must be forc'd to go,
May such

For so Diogenes the Cynicke tearmes all humering Timists or temporizing sycophants. Laert.

tame-beasts be euer vsed so.

Like fate befell vnhappie

Who built Pallas horse, and after perished in the siege of Troy. Homer, in Niad.

Phereclus,
Who first contriu'd by cunning more then force,
To make once glorious Troy as ruinous
As spoile could make it: therefore rear'd a Horse,
Framed by Pallas art, as curious,
As art could forme, or cunning could inuent,
To weaue his end, which art could not preuent.

See ye braue state-proiectors, what's the gaine
Ye reape by courses that are indirect:
See these, who first contriu'd, and first were slaine,
May mirrors be of what ye most affect!
These labour'd much, yet labour'd they in vaine;

163

For there's no wit how quicke soere can do it,
If powers diuine shall make

Witnesse that matchlesse Powder plot, no lesse miraculously reuealed, then mischieuously contriued, no less happily preuented, then hatefully practised. Of which cruell Agents (being his owne subiects) our gracious Soueraigne might iustly take vp the complaint of that Princely Prophet Dauid My familiar friends, whō I trusted, which did eate of my bread haue lifted vp their heeles against me. Psal. 51. and 55.

resistance to it.

And can ye thinke that heauen, whose glorious eye
Surueyes this Uniuerse, will daigne to view
Men that are giuen to all impietie?
You say, he will; he will indeed, it's true;
But this is to your further misery.
For that same eye which viewes what you commit,
Hath sight to see, and power to punish it.

To punish it, if hoording sin on sin,
Ye loath Repentance, and bestow your labour,
Onely to gaine esteeme, or else to win
By your pernicious plots some great mans fauour;
O I do see the state that you are in,
Which cannot be redeem'd, vnlesse betime
With sighs for sins, you wipe away your crime!

For shew me one, (if one to shew you haue)
Who built his fortunes on this sandie ground,
That euer went gray-headed to his graue,
Or neare his end was not distressed found,
Or put not trust in that which did deceiue!
Sure few there be, if any such there be,
But shew me one, and it sufficeth me.

I grant indeed, that for a time these may
Flourish like to a Bay tree, and increase,
Like Oliue branches, but this lasts not aye,
Their Halcyon dayes shall in a moment ceasse,

164

When night (sad night) shall take their soules away.
Then will they tune their strings to this sad song,
Short was our sun-shine, but our night-shade long

Ye then, I say, whose youth-deceiuing prime,
Promise successe, beleeue's from me, that this,
When time shall come (as what more swift then time)
Shall be conuerted to a painted blisse,
Whose gilded outside beautifide your crime;
Which once displaide, cleare shall it shew as light,
Your Sommer-day's become a winter night.

Beware then ye, who practise and inuent,
To humour greatnesse; for there's one more great,
Who hath pronounc'd, like sinne, like punishment;
Whom at that day ye hardly may intreat,
When death and horror shall be eminent:
Then will ye say vnto the Mountaines thus,
And shadie groues, Come downe and couer vs.

But were ye great as earthly pompe could make ye,
Weake is the arme of flesh, or

The priuiledge of greatnesse, must be no subterfuge for guiltinesse.

mightinesse,
For all these feeble hopes shall then forsake ye,
With the false flourish of your happinesse,
When ye vnto your field-bed must betake ye;
Where ye for all your shapes and glozed formes,
Might deceiue men, but cannot deceiue wormes.

166

THE EMBLEME. [OF MORTALITIE.]

Agathocles, me thinkes I might compare thee,
(So rare thou art) to some choice statuarie,
Who doth portray with Pencile he doth take,
Himselfe to th' image which he's wont to make;
How artfull thou, and gracefull too by birth,
A King, yet shewes that thou art made of earth,
Not glorying in thy greatnesse, but would seeme,
Made of the same mould other men haue bene!
A head of gold, as thou art chiefe of men,
So chiefe of mettalls makes thy Diadem;
Uictorious armes of purest iuorie,
Which intimates the persons puritie;
The other liniments compos'd of brasse,
Imply th' vndaunted strength of which thou was;
But feete of earth, shew th' ground whereon we stand,
That we're cast downe in turning of a hand.
Of which, that we might make the better vse,
Me thinkes I could dilate the Morall thus.
Man made of earth, no surer footing can
Presume vpon, then earth from whence be came,
Where firmenesse is infirmenesse, and the stay
On which he builds his strongest hopes, is clay.
And yet how strangely confident he growes,
In heauen-confronting boldnesse and in showes,
Bearing a Giants spirit, when in length,
Height, breadth, and pitch he is of Pigmeis strength.
Yea I haue knowne a very Dwarfe in sight,
Conceit himselfe a Pyramis in height,
Ietting so stately, as't were in his power

167

To mount aloft vnto the airie tower.
But when Man's proud, I should esteeme't more meete
Not to presume on's strength, but looke on's feete:
Which nature (we obserue) hath taught the Swan,
And ought in reason to be done in Man.
Weake are foundations that are rer'd on sand,
And on as weake grounds may we seeme to stand,
Both subiect to be ruin'd, split and raz't,
One billow shakes the first, one griefe the last.
Whence then or how subsists this earthly frame,
That merits in it selfe no other name,
Then shell of base corruption! it's not brasse,
Marble, or iuory, which when times passe,
And our expired fates surceasse to be,
Reserue in them our liuing memorie.
No, no, this mettall is not of that proofe,
We liue as those vnder a shaking roofe,
Where euery moment makes apparent show,
For want of props of finall ouerthrow.
Thus then, me thinkes you may (if so you please)
Apply this Statue of Agathocles;
As he compos'd his royall Head of gold,
The pur'st of mettals, you are thereby told,
That th' Head whence reason and right iudgement springs,
Should not be pesterd with inferior things;
And as his actiue sinnewes, armes are said,
To shew their purenesse, to be iuored,
Like Pelops milke-white shoulders; we are giuen
To vnderstand, our armes should be to heauen,
As to their proper orbe enlarg'd, that we
Might there be made the Saints of puritie;
By rest of th' parts which were compos'd of brasse,

168

(Being of bigger bone then others was)
We may collect, men made of selfe-same clay,
May in their strength do more then others may.
Lastly on earth, as men subsistence haue,
Their earthly feete do hasten to their graue.

[IN IVRIDICVM.] A short Satyre of a corrupt Lawyer.

THE XIIII. SATYRE.

Naso is sicke of late, but how canst tell?
He hath a swelling in his throate I feare;
I iudg'd as much, me thought He spake not well,
In his poore clients cause: nay more I heare,
His tumour's growne so dang'rous, as some say,
He was absolued but the t'other day.

And what confest He? not a sinne I trow,
Those He reseru'd within a leatherne bag,
And that's his conscience; did He mercy show
Unto the poore? not one old rotten rag
Would he affoord them, or with teares bemone them,
Saying, that—forma pauperis had vndone them.

Did He not wish to be dissolu'd from hence?
No, when you talk'd of finall Dissolution,

169

He with a sea of teares his face would drench,
Wishing He might but make another motion,
And He would be dissolu'd when He had done:
But His forg'd motion each tearme day begun.

Had He some matter laid vpon his heart?
Abundance of corruption, foule infection.
Did He no secret treasure there impart?
Nought but a boxe containing his complexion,
What was it Sir, some precious oyle of grace?
No, but an oyle to smeere his brazen face.

I haue heard much of his attractiue nose,
How He could draw white Riols with his breath;
It's true indeed, and therefore did He choose
To drinke Aurum potabile at his death,
Nor car'd He greatly if He were to lose
His soule, so that He might enioy his nose.

It was a wonder in his greatest paine,
How He should haue remorse; for well I know,
In his successiue fortunes nought could straine
His hardned conscience, which He would not do
For hope of gaine, so as in time no sinne
So great, but grew familiar with him.

O Sir, the many fees He had receiu'd,
And hood-winck'd bribes which at his death opprest him,
The forged deeds his wicked braine contriu'd,
And that blacke buckram bag which did arrest him,
Commencing suite in one, surcharg'd Him so,
That He was plung'd into a gulph of wo.

170

O what a smoke of powder there appeared
At the dissoluing of his vglie soule;
All that were present there to see Him feared,
His case vncas'd did show so grim, so foule:
Yet there were some had hope He would do well,
Make but one motion, and come out of hell.

But others fear'd that motion would be long,
If it should answer motions He made here:
Besides, that place of motions is so throng,
That one will scarce haue end a thousand yeare.
Then Naso fare thee well, for I do see,
Earth sends to hell thy mittimus with thee.

Two short moderne Satyres.

[A Walking Hypocrite there was, whose pace]

In Ambulantem.
Hypocritam.
Pseudophilia.

A Walking Hypocrite there was, whose pace,
Trunkhose, small ruffe, deminutiue in forme,
Shew'd to each man He was the child of grace,
Such were the vertues did his life adorne;
Nought could He heare that did of lightnesse come,
But He would stop his eares, or leaue the roome.

Discourse (thus would He say) of things deuine,
Soyle not your soules with such lasciuiousnesse:

171

Your vessels should with precious vertues shine,
As lamps of grace and lights of godlinesse;
But lasse for wo, sin's such a fruitfull weed,
Still as one dies another doth succeed.

Here one doth beate his braine 'bout practises,
There is another plotting wickednesse;
O how long Lord wilt thou blindfold their eyes,
In suffering them to worke vnrighteousnesse?
Well, I will pray for them, and Syons peace,
The prayers of Saints can no way chuse but please

Thus did this mirror of deuotion walke,
Inspir'd it seem'd with some Angelicke gift,
So holy was his life, so pure his talke,
As if the spirit of zeale had Ely left,
And lodg'd within his breast, it could not be,
Fuller of godly feruor then was He,

But see what end these false pretences haue,
Where zeale is made a cloke to couer sinne,
This whited wall to th' eye so seeming graue,
Like varnish'd tombes had nought but filth within,
For though of zeale He made a formall show,
In Fortune Alley was his Rendeuow.

There He repos'd there He his solace tooke,
Shrin'd neare his Saint, his female-puritan,
In place so priuate as no eye could looke,
To what they did, to manifest their shame;
But see heauens will, those eyes they least suspected,
First ey'd their shame, whereby they were detected.

172

Thus did his speech and practise disagree
In one exemplar, formall, regular,
In th' other loose through carnall libertie,
Which two when they do meete, so different are,
As there's no discord worse in any song,
Then twixt a hollow heart and holy tongue.

For He that doth pretend, and think't enough,
To make a shew of what He least intends,
Shall ere the period of his dayes run through,
Beshrew himselfe for his mischieuous ends;
For he that is not good but would be thought,
Is worse by odds then this plaine dealing nought.

[Drusus, what makes thee take no trade in hand]

In Drusum meretri-
cium Adiutorem.
Poligonia.

Drusus, what makes thee take no trade in hand,
But like Hermaphrodite, halfe man halfe womā
Pandors thy selfe, and stands at whoores command,
To play the bolt for euery Haxter common?
Spend not thy houres with whoores, lest thou confesse,
There is no life to thy obduratenesse.

Obdurate villaine hard'ned in ill,
That takes delight in seeing Nature naked,
Whose pleasure drawne from selfe-licentious will,
Makes thee of God, of men, and all forsaked;

173

Shame is thy chaine, thy fetters linkes of sinne,
Whence to escape is hard, being once lock'd in.

What newes from Babell, where that purple whoore,
With seared marrow charmes deluded man,
So lull'd a sleepe, as He forgets heauens power,
And serues that hireling-Neapolitan?
I'le tell thee Drusus, sad and heauie newes,
Death vnto Drusus while he hants the stewes.

An Admonition to the Reader vpon the precedent Satyres.

Who will not be reprou'd, it's to be fear'd,
Scornes to amend, or to redeeme the time;
For spotlesse Vertue neuer there appear'd,
Where true Humility, that fruitfull vine
Hath no plantation, for it cannot be,
Grace should haue growth but by Humilitie.

Let each man then into his errors looke,
And with a free acknowledgement confesse;
That there are more Errataes in his booke,
Then th' crabbedst Satyre can in lines expresse:
For this will better Him, and make Him grow
In grace with Vertue, whom He knowes not now.

172

These my vnpolish'd Satyres I commend,
To thy protection, not that I do feare
Thy censure otherwise then as a friend,
For I am secure of censure I may sweare,
But for forme sake: if shou't accept them do,
If not, I care not how the world go.

Thine if thine owne, Musophilus.

Silentio culpa crescit.

173

THE SHEPHEARDS TALES.

Too true poore shepheards do this Prouerbe find,
No sooner out of sight then out of mind.

175

HIS PASTORALLS ARE HERE CONTINVED WITH THREE OTHER TALES; hauing relation to a former part, as yet obscured: and deuided into certaine Pastorall Eglogues, shadowing much delight vnder a rurall subiect.

[_]

Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:

For Dor. read Dorycles
For Cor. read Corydon
For Dym. read Dymnus
For Tech. read Technis
For Lin. read Linus
For Sap. read Sapphus

THE FIRST EGLOGUE Corydons tale

The Argument.

Here Corydon proues,
That nothing can be sent,
To crosse loue more,
Thē friends vnkind restraint.

The second Argument.

Corydon coy Celia woes,
And his loue by tokens showes.
Tokens are those lures, that find
Best accesse to woman kind.
Long he woes ere he can win;

176

Yet at last she fancieth him:
And so firme, as you shall heare,
Each to other troth-plight were;
But alas, where loue is most,
There it oft-times most is crost.
For these two are closly pent,
Each from other by restraint;
He, vnto the plaine must go,
Loue-sicke, heart-sicke, full of wo,
Where he sings such chearefull layes,
In his chast choise, Celias praise,
That steepe mountaines, rocks and plaines,
Seeme entranced with his straines:
But alas, while he does keepe,
Helplesse shepheard, haplesse sheepe,
Celia for to seeke her make,
From her keeper makes escape,
And vnto the mountaine goes,
Where her selfe, her selfe doth lose;
While one of Lauerna'es crew,
Seizeth on her as his dew,
Where by force, by awe, by feare,
She was long detained there,
And in the end affianc'd so,
As she ends her life in wo.

177

The Shepheards.

Technis.
Dymnus.
Dorycles.
Corydon.
Sapphus.
Linus.

Nay shepheards stay, there is no hast but good,
We three are shepheards, and haue vnderstood
Both of your follies and your fancies too;
Dor.
Why tell vs Corydon, what thou wouldst do!

Cor.
Shew my misfortune Swaines, as you haue done,

Tech.
Deferre it till to morrow Corydon.

Cor.
No, Technis no, I cannot if I would,
You'ue told your griefes, and now mine must be told:
What though the Sunne be drawing to the West,
Where he intends to take his wonted rest,
Tis Moone-light (lads) and if it were not light,
Welcome you are to lodge with me all night.

Dor.
Thankes Corydon.

Cor.
Why thanke you Corydon?
Simple and meane's the cottage where I won,
Yet well I wot, for chestnuts, cakes, and creame,
If you'le accept my welcome as I meane,
You shall not want, but haue sufficient store,
With hearty welcome swaines, what would ye more?

Dym.
More Corydon! t'is all that we can wish,
But to thy tale, let's heare now what it is.

Dor.
Yes, do good Corydon; and we will stay;

178

Cor.
Attend then shepheards, heare what I shall say,

Sap.
And when you'ue done, I will begin with mine;

Lin.
Which I'le continue in the euening time.

Cor.
Well said, good shepheards, we are iustly three,
To answer their three tales, and here for me.
There was a Maid, and well might she be said,
So chast, so choice she was, to be a Maid,
Where lillie white mixt with a cherrie red,
Such admiration in the shepheards bred,
As well was he that might but haue a sight
Of her rare beauty mirror of delight.
Oft would she come vnto a siluer spring,
Which neare her fathers house was neighboring,
Where she would eye her selfe as she did passe,
For shepheards vse no other looking-glasse.

Tech.
True Corydon.

Cor.
But which may seeme more rare,
This Maid she was as wise as she was faire;
So as discretion did so moderate
The safe condition of her low estate,
As enuie neuer wrong'd her spotlesse name,
Or soild her matchlesse honour with defame.

Dor.
Under a happie Planet she was borne,

Cor.
She was indeed; nor did she euer scorne,
The company of any country maid,
How meane soere or sluttishly araid:
But she would be their play-fare, to make chuse,
Of such poore simple sports as wenches vse.
Yea in their wakes, shroues, wassel-cups, or tides,
Or Whitson-ales, or where the country brides
Chuse out-their bride-maids, as the custome is,
She seld or neare was seene to do amisse:
But so respectiue of her name and fame,

179

That though she blusht, she neuer blusht for shame
Of any act immodest, but retain'd
That good opinion which her vertues gain'd.

Dym.
Sure Corydon this was a Saintly woman;

Cor.
Indeed such Saints 'mongst women are not cōmon:
But to my story; her did many swaine,
By fruitlesse suite endeuour to obtaine,
As young Spudippus, rich Archymorus,
Actiue Amintas, youthfull Hirsius.

Dor.
It seemes sh'ad choice.

Cor.
Yes, Dorycles, she had:
And some of these were good, and some as bad,
But neither good nor bad, nor rich nor poore,
Could her content, though she had daily store.
Yet from Pandoras box did nere proceed,
More hatefull poyson vpon humane seed,
Then from these forlorne louers, whose report,
(But iust is heauen, for they were plagued for't,)
Aspers'd this scandall on faire Celia,
That she had made her choice some other way.

Tech.
Unworthy louers.

Cor.
True indeed, they be
Unworthy th' loue of such an one as she;
For Linus you do know them;

Lin.
Yes, I do,
But specially Spudippus, whom I know,
To be the notedst cot-queane that's about him.

Tec.
Sure Linus thē she could not chuse but flout him.

Cor.
Perhaps she did, yet with that modestie,
As she did shadow it so couertly,
That he could scarce discouer what she ment.

Lin.
How ere Spudippus would be patient.

180

Dor.
Then he's some gull.

Lin.
No he's a wealthy man,
And such an one as rightly, sure I am,
Knows how much milke crummock his cow will giue,
And can discerne a riddle from a siue.

Cor.
Linus, it seemes thou knowes him passing well.

Lin.
Las if I would, some stories I could tell,
Would make you laugh: for as it chanc'd one day,
Some with my selfe did take his house by th' way,
Where we an houre or two meant to remaine,
To trie how he his friends would entertaine.

Dor.
And pray thee how?

Lin.
I'le tell thee Dorycles:
Hauing an houre or two taken our ease,
And readie to depart (I pray thee heare)
He sent one of his Sculletie for some beare,
Which though long first, came in an earthen cup,
Which being giuen to me, I drunke it vp;
Which drunke.

Cor.
How then good Linus, pray thee say?

Lin.
The rest were forc'd to go a thirst away.

Dor.
Had he no more?

Cor.
Thou vs'd him in his kind.

Lin.
May all be vsed so that haue his mind.
But much I feare me, I'ue disturbed thee,
Now Corydon shew what th' euent may be!

Cor.
Long did these woe, but Celia could approue
Of nothing lesse then of these swainlings loue,
Yet would she faine to fancie one of these,
Whereby she might her bedrid father please.

Tech.
Had she a father?

Cor.
Yes, a surly Lout,

181

Who long had laine decrepit with the gout,
And liu'd for all the world, and so did die
Like to a hog, that's pent vp in a stie.

Dor.
Some cancred erwig.

Cor.
True, a very elfe,
Who car'd not who staru'd, so he fed himselfe.
He, as the want of one sense is exprest,
By giuing more perfection to the rest,
For euen his sense of feeling did decline,
Though he had bene a nigglar in his time,
Yea all those mouing, actiue faculties,
Which in the heate of youth are wont to rise,
Gaue way vnto suspition, lest his daughter
Through those loue-luring gifts which many brought her,
Should set her Maiden honor at whole sale.

Tech.
Age h'as an eare indeed for euery tale.

Cor.
True, Technis true, for no affection can
Haue more predominance ore any man,
Then iealousie a selfe-consuming rage,
Is said to haue ore men of doting age.

Dor.
Thy reason Corydon?

Cor.
That disesteeme
Of being now more weake then they haue bene,
Makes them repine at others now that may,
And are as able to beget as they.

Tech.
Tis rightly noted Corydon.

Lin.
Yes, he
Knowes by obseruance whence these humors be.

Cor.
Linus I do, and better had I bene,
If I had neuer knowne what these things meane;
But shepheards you shall heare the reason, why
I should this Dotards humour thus descrie.

182

Sap.
Yes, do good Swaine.

Cor.
It chanc'd vpon a night,
A Moone-light night, when Moone and starres shine bright,
That I with other shepheards did repaire
To th' old-mans house, and found faire Celia there,
Whom I in curisie with a kind salute,
Kist, & with speaking heart though tongue was mute,
Wish'd; ô what wishes do possesse a mind,
That dare not vtter how his heart's inclind!
She might be mine, thrice blest in being mine.

Dor.
Why didst not woe her Swaine, for to be thine?

Cor.
Yes, Dorycles I woed ber, though not then,
For Maidens they are bashfull amongst men,
And dare we not well in modestie impart,
What they could give consent to with their heart;
So as to tell thee, truly Dorycles,
We past that night in making purposes,
Singing of catches, with such knowne delights,
As young folke vse to passe ore winter nights.
And at that time, I may be bold to tell thee,
For such conceits I thought none could excell me.
For well you know, I was in Hyble bred,
And by the sacred sisters nourished,
So as being stor'd by Nature, help'd by art,
There was no straine I bore not in some part:
Which gaue faire Celia such entire content,
As she discouerd after, what she ment.
Though I may sweare, for fiue months I came to her,
And with some termes of art assaid to woe her:
During which time, all th' answer I could get,
Was this; she did not meane to marrie yet.

Tech.
That's all the answer these young women haue,

183

While they reiect what after they receiue.

Cor.
Technis, indeed I did perceiue as much,
Though all young wenches humours be not such:
But th' greatest cause of Celias distaste,
Which made me many times the lesser grac't,
Proceeded from that chrone her dogged father,
As after by coniectures I did gather:
Perswading her, that she should plant her loue
On such whose hopefull meanes might best approue
Her discreet choice: and that was not to be
Affianced to such an one as me.

Dor.
Alas poore Swaine; 'tis true what th' Prouerbe saith,
We aske not what he is, but what he hath.

Cor.
And yet perswasions which her father vs'd,
Could not preuaile with her, for she had chus'd,
In heart I meane.

Tech.
Whom did she dote vpon?

Cor.
Will ye beleeue me!

Tech.
Yes.

Cor.
Twas Corydon.

Lin.
Thrice happie swaine.

Cor.
Thrice happie had I bene,
If I had slept still in this golden dreame;
But afterwards occurrences there were,
Which thus abridg'd my hopes, as you shall heare.
Such deepe impression had affection made,
As there remained nothing vnassaid,
To consummate our wishes, but the rite.

Tech.
Yes something else.

Cor.
What Technis!

Tech.
Marriage night.

Sap.
They had enioyed that, you may suppose.

184

Cor.
No, Sapphus no, she was not one of those:
So modest, chast, respectiue of her name,
Pure and demure, as th' sweetnesse of her fame,
Aboue the choisest odors that are sent
From spicie Tmolus flowrie continent,
Sent forth that fragrant and delightfull sauour,
As none ere heard, and did not seeke to haue her.
For sundrie choise discourses haue we had,
And I nere knew that ought could make her glad,
Which had least taste of lightnesse.

Tech.
Sure thou art,
So much thy praises relish true desert,
Worthy such vertuous beautie.

Cor.
Technis no,
Albeit Celia esteem'd me so,
As long and tedious seem'd that day to be,
Which did deuide her from my companie.
So as in silent groues and shady launes,
Where Siluans, water-nimphs, fairies, and faunes,
Use to frequent, there would we sit and sing,
Eying our beauties in a neighbour spring,
Whose siluer streamlings with soft murmring noise,
To make our consort perfect, gaue their voice.
And long did we obserue this custome too,
Though her consent did bid me ceasse to woe:
For now I was no woer, but her loue,
And that so firmely linkt, as nought could moue,
Alter or sunder our vnited hearts,
But meagre death, which all true louers parts.

Tech.
Then Corydon, to me it doth appeare,
That you were troth-plight.

Cor.
Technis so we were.

185

But see (good shepheards) what succeeded hence:
This loue she bore me did her sire incense,
So as discurteously he pent his daughter
In such a vault, I could not see her after.
Which when my friends perceiu'd, they grieued were,
That th' loue which I his Celia did beare,
Should be rewarded with contempt and scorne,
Being for parentage equally borne,
With best of his, as most of you can tell.

Lin.
Proceed good Corydon, we know it well.

Cor.
For was I not of Polyarchus line,
A noble shepheard!

Sap.
True, who in his time
Solemniz'd many wakes on this our downe,
And ere he dide was to that honour growne,
As all our plaines resounded with his laies,
Sung by our Swaines in Polyarchus praise.

Cor.
It seemes thou knew him Sapphus: but attend
For now my storie draweth neare an end.
My friends distasting this repulse of mine,
Forc'd me from th' course whereto I did incline:
So as my hopes confin'd, I'me driuen to go
From Adons vale vnto a mount of wo.

Lin.
Vnhappie shepheard.

Cor.
And vnhappie sheepe,
For ill could I my heards from worrying keepe,
Though to that charge my friends enioyned me,
When I could scarcely keepe my owne hands free,
From doing violence vpon my selfe:
So as one day vpon a ragged shelfe,
Wreath'd round with Iuie, as I sate alone,
Descanting Odes of sorrow and of mone,

186

I chanc'd on my mishap to meditate,
Celias restraint, and my forlorne estate;
Which done, I vow'd if speedy remedy
Gaue no reliefe vnto my maladie,
That very cliff where I repos'd that day,
Should be the meanes to take my life away.

Tech.
O Corydon this soundeth of despaire.

Cor.
It does indeed: but such a watchfull care,
Had gracious Pan of me, that in short time,
These motiues to despaire 'gan to decline,
And lose their force: so as when griefes grew ripe,
I vs'd to take me to my oaten pipe.

Dor.
But ere thou proceed further, tell vs Swaine,
Where all this time thou vsed to remaine.

Cor.
Abroad-spread oake with aged armes & old,
Directs the passenger the way he would,
Neare Cadmus rising hillocks, where the spring
Of golden Tagus vseth oft to bring
Such precious trafficke to the neighbour shore,
As former times through blindnesse did adore
Those curled streames, wherein they did descry
Their loue to gold, by their Idolatrie:
That shady oake I say, and that blest spring,
In my distresse, gaue me such harboring;
As night and day I did not thence remoue,
But waking mus'd, and sleeping dream'd of loue.

Tech.
Who euer heard the like!

Dor.
How didst thou liue?

Cor.
On hope.

Tech.
Weake food.

Cor.
Yet did it comfort giue,
To my afflicted mind, which did desire,

187

Euer to singe her wings in fancies fire.
For many weekes in this distrest estate,
Wretched, forlorne, helplesse and desolate,
Sate I deiected, musing on despaire,
And when those drerie clouds would once grow faire:
But las the more I did expect reliefe,
The lesse hope had I to allay my griefe,
So as in th' end, as you shall after heare,
All meanes for my redresse abridged were.
But that you may perceiue what loue can do,
And how effectually her passions show,
I who before I louely Celia kent,
Knew not what th' Heliconian Muses ment,
Addrest my selfe;

Lin.
To what good Corydon?

Cor.
To write of loue, and thus my Muse begun.

Tech.
Pray thee kind Swaine let's heare what thou didst write.

Dor.
Yes do: for well I know it will delight
Sepheards to heare, of shepheards amorous toyes;

Sap.
On then good Corydon.

Cor.

Haue at ye Boyes.

Celia speake, or I am dombe,
Here I'le soiorne till thou come,
Seeke I will till I grow blind,
Till I may my Celia find.
For if tongue-tide, string would breake,
If I heard but Celia speake;
And if blind, I soone should see,
Had I but a sight of thee;
Or if lame, loue would find feete,
Might I once with Celia meete;

188

Or if deafe, should I but heare
Loues sweete accents from thy eare:
Thy choice notes would me restore,
That I should be deafe no more.
Thus though dombe, blind, deafe, and lame,
Heard I but my Celias name,
I should speake, see, heare, and go,
Vowing, Celia made me so.

Tech.
Beshrow me Corydon, if I had thought,
That loue such strange effects could ere haue wrought.

Cor.
Yes Technis, yes, loue's such a wondrous thing,
That it will make one plungd in sorrow sing,
And singing weepe, for griefe is wont to borrow
Some strains of ioy, that ioy might end in sorrow.
For what is woe (as we must needs confesse it)
Hauing both tongue and teares for to expresse it,
But a beguiling griefe, whose nature's such,
It can forget, lest it should grieue too much.

Dor.
Indeed such sorrow seldome lasteth long,
But say good Swaine, heard Celia of thy song?

Cor.
I know not, Dorycles: but twas her lot,
That from her keeper afterwards she got.

Tech.
Happie escape.

Cor.
Ah Technis, say not so,
For this escape gaue new increase to wo;

Lin.
How could that be?

Cor.
Heare but what did ensue,
She was preuented by a ruffin-crue,
As she vpon the mountaines rom'd about,
Through desart caues to find her shepheard out.

Tech.
Alas poore wench; what were they Corydon?

Cor.
Such as did haunt there, and did liue vpon

189

Rapine and violence, triumphing in
Impunitie, sole motiue vnto sin.
In briefe, they were, for so they did professe,
Of braue Lauerna'es crue, that patronesse
Of all disorder, and each euening time
Offer'd stolne booties to her godlesse shrine.

Tech.
Mishap aboue mishaps.

Cor.
True, so it was;
My lasse she lost her lad, the lad his lasse.
And sundry daies, this rout did her detaine,
While haplesse, helplesse she did sore complaine
Of their inhumane vsage, but her griefe,
Sighs, sobs, teares, throbs, could yeeld her small reliefe:
For in the end one of this forlorne crew,
Seiz'd on my long-lou'd Celia as his dew,
To whom espousd whether she would or no,
She ends her life, her tedious life, in wo.

Lin.
A sad euent: but can she not be freed?

Cor.
To what end Linus, she's dishonoured!

Tech.
Unhappie fate.

Cor.
Besides, she now is tide,
And by enforcement, made anothers Bride.
Come shepheards come, and say if euer time,
Made heardmens woes so ripe, as't hath done mine.

Sap.
Yes Corydon, though thou thy griefes hast showne,
Which makes thee thinke none equall to thine owne,
I haue a Tale will moue compassion too,
If Swaines haue any pittie.

Dym.
Pray thee how?

Sap.
Nay I will not be daintie; but attend,
And then compare our stories to the end,

190

And you'le conclude that neuer any Swaine
Did loue so well, and reape so small a gaine.

THE SECOND EGLOGVE Sapphus' tale

The Argument.

Sapphus woes Siluia,
Yet he thinks it ill,
To take to that,
Which he did neuer till.

The second Argument.

She, whose sweet and gracefull speech,
Might all other shepheards teach:
She, whom countries did admire,
For her presence and attire:
She, whose choise perfections mou'd,
Those that knew her to be lou'd.
She, euen Siluia, for saue she,
None so faire, and firme could be;
When she should be Sapphus Bride,
And their hands were to be tide
With their hearts in marriage knot,
Sapphus heares of Siluias blot.
Whereby Sapphus doth collect,

193

How hard it is for to affect,
Such an one as will reioyce,
And content her in her choice;
He conchides, since all things be
Certaine in vncertaintie,
Who would trust what women say,
Who can do but what they may.
“Forts are won by foes assault,
“If Maids yeeld, it is Mans fault.

I had a Loue as well as any you,
And such an one, as had she but her due,
Deseru'd the seruice of the worthiest swaine
That ere fed sheepe vpon the Westerne plaine.

Dym.
Good Sapphus say, what was thy lasses name?
Was it not Siluia?

Sap.
The very same;
It seemes thou knew her.

Dym.
Yes exceeding well,
And might haue knowne her, but I would not mell,
In more familiar sort.

Sap.
Unworthy Swaine,
Did her affection merit such a staine?
Suppose she threw some looser lookes vpon thee,
And thou collected thence she would haue won thee,
Is this th' requitall of the loue she bore?

Dym.
Nay on good Sapphus, I'le do so no more.

Sap.
No more! why now I sweare, and may be bold
That Dymnus would haue done it if he could.

194

Why sir, what parts were euer in you yet,
That she on you such fancie should haue set?

Tech.
Fie, shepheards fie, we come not here to scold:
Come Sapphus, tell thy tale as we haue told.

Sap.
Dymnus doth interrupt me.

Lin.
Dymnus ceasse.

Dym.
Nay I haue done, so he will hold his peace.
But to vpbraid me, that I had no part
To gaine her loue, I scorne it with my heart:
For Ile auouch.

Tech.
Nay then the strife's begun.

Dor.
Dymnus for shame.

Dym.
Nay shepheards, I haue done.

Dor.
Pray then proceed good Sapphus.

Sap.
Willingly:
Though I can hardly brooke this iniury.

Dym.
Why Sapphus, I am sure thou know'st all this,
That she was light.

Sap.
I know she did amisse,
Yet I must tell you Dymnus, 't had bene fit,
That rather I then you had noted it:
For it concern'd me most.

Dym.
Pray let it rest,
I did not know so much, I may protest.

Sap.
Dymnus, enough: and thus I do proceed;
Vpon a time when I my flocks did feed,
Her father Thyrsis chanc'd to come that way,
And to obserue me more, a while made stay
Upon the Downe, where I did feede my sheepe:
Who eying me, how duely I did keepe
My woollie store (as I had care) from worrien,
Scab, sought, the rot or any kind of murren:

195

Tooke such a liking on me, as to say
The very truth, vpon next holy day,
He did inuite me to his house, where I
Found what was loue in louely Siluia's eye.
In briefe, I lou'd her, I may boldly tell,
And this her father notes, and likes it well:
For oft vs'd he to say, right sure I am,
A penny in a man then with a man,
He did esteeme more of, which he applide
Unto that care which he in me descride.

Dym.
A iolly Swaine he was.

Sap
He was indeed,
And on these Downs more frolicke rams did breed,
Then any Swainling that did dwell about him,
And truth to say, they would do nought without him.

Dor.
Tis said that Thirsk frō Thirsis tooke her name,
Who thither with his heards a grazing came,
And plaid vpon his pipe such pleasant straines,
As he yet liues vpon the neighbour plaines.

Sap.
This know I Dorycles, that in my hearing,
He pip'd so sweete, that many shepheards fearing
Th' melodious straines which issued from his reed,
Would so amaze their flocks they could not feede:
Ioyntly together in a secret caue,
Where Palms and Mirtles their increasing haue,
They so contriu'd an harbour for the nonst,
That he might from the scorching Sunne be sconst,
And sing at pleasure, while his accents raising,
Heardsmen were hearing, and their heards were grazing.
For curious seats hewne from the solid stone,
Were aptly fram'd for Swaines to sit vpon,
Who in his voice conceiu'd such choice delight,

196

As a whole Sommer day from morne to night,
Seem'd but an houre, so sweetly did be sing,
While every day he found out some new spring.
But all too long digression haue I made;
Falling in loue with Siluia as I said,
I saw and perishd, perishd, for it cost
My libertie, which I by seeing lost.

Dor.
Deare was that sight.

Sap.
Yet dearer may I sweare,
Was she to me, then any senses were:
For other obiects I did wholly shon,
Chusing her selfe for me to looke vpon.
Neither was I hope-reft, for she did seeme
To fancie me, hows'euer she did meane;
And I deseru'd it, as I thought that day,
For clothed in my suite of shepheards gray,
With buttond cap and buskins all of one,
I may assure you (heardsmen) I thought none
On all our Downe more neate or handsome was,
Or did deserue more kindnesse from his lasse.

Dym.
A good conceit doth well.

Sap.
And truth was this,
She shew'd me all respect that I could wish,
And vndissembled too, I am perswaded,
Though afterwards all that affection faded.
For on a day, (this I thought good to tell,
That you may thence perceiue she lou'd me well)
In a greene shadie harbour I repos'd,
With Sycamours and Iunipers enclos'd,
She priuately into the harbour crept,
Which seene, I fain'd a sleepe, but neuer slept.

Tech.
A faire occasion!

197

Lin
How did she reueale
Her loue?

Sap.
If you had felt, what I did feele,
You neuer would awakt, but wisht do die,
In such a soule-beguiling phantasie.
For first she eyed me, nor contented so,
With nimble pace she to my lips did go:
And calls, and clings, and clips me round about,
Using a soft-sweete dalliance with her foote,
Not to awake me from my chearefull dreame,
But to impart what she in heart did meane;
Wherewith I seem'd to wake.

Tech.
Why didst thou so?

Sap.
Technis, I thought she trod vpon my toe,
But as I wak'd, she without further stay,
Dying her cheekes with blushes, stole away.

Dym.
This shew'd she lou'd thee.

Sap.
So I know she did,
But who can perfect what the fates forbid?
For long we liued thus, and loued too,
With vowes as firme as faith and troth could do,
That nought should ere infringe that nuptiall band,
Confirm'd betwixt vs two with heart and hand,
So as with Thirsis knowledge and consent,
After so many weekes in loue-toyes spent,
It was agreed vpon by either side,
That I should be her Bridegroome, she my Bride.
And th' day of Solemnization was set downe,
So as the choisest youths in all the towns,
Addrest themselues, for I was valued then
Amongst the chiefest Swaines, to be my men.

Lin.
I know it Sapphus, both thy wealth and worth,

198

Were both of power enough to set thee forth.

Sap.
In briefe, for I your patience might wrong,
To stand vpon these marriage rites too long;
To th' Church we went, suspecting I may sweare,
No such euents as after did appeare.

Tech.
What sad euents, good Sapphus?

Sap
Being now
Come to do that which we could nere vndo,
The Priest pronounc'd a charge, whereby was ment,
If either of vs knew impediment,
Why we should not be ioyned, then to speake,
That we in time might such a wedlocke breake;
Or any one there present should shew cause,
Why we might not be married by the lawes:
There to declare, in publicke one of these,
Or else for euer after hold their peace.
God speed them well, said all, saue onely one,
Who stood from thence some distance all alone,
Crying, aloud in open audience,
Sapphus forbeare, there is no conscience,
That thou should ioyne thy hand to one defil'd;
At least prouide a father for her child.
Which she kind pregnant wench is great withall,
And, who ere got it, will thee father call.

Tech.
This was a strange preuention.

Sap.
I confesse it,
But ify'ad heard how Meuus did expresse'st,
(For so his name was) you would haue admir'd
His frontlesse impudence.

Dym.
Sure he was hir'd,
To frustrate these solemnities.

Sap.
Ah no,

199

Beleeue me Dymnus it was nothing so:
For she was fruitfull long before her time,
But th' fault was hers, is was no fact of mine:
So as her neighbours iudg'd and censurd on her,
That she begun by time to take vpon her.
But this shall be in silence past for me,
Onely she's shadowed in my

A Poem entitled Omphale.

Omphale,
And so charactred, as the time may come,
Siluia shall be as Flora was in Rome.

Dor.
But what succeeded hence?

Sap.
Upon this voice
There streight arose a strange confused noise,
Some Meuus tax'd, and said he was to blame,
To blemish any modest Maidens name;
Others were doubtfull, lest it should be true,
And thus they thought, and thus it did ensue.
I now suspicious of this foule dishonour,
Which Meuus publickly had laid vpon her:
Resolu'd those solemne spousals to delay,
And put them off vntill another day:
Meane while, (attend me Swains) when th' day came on
That I should marrie, Siluia had a sonne.

Cor.
God blesse the boy.

Dym.
Who might the child begit?

Sap.
Nay Dymnus sure, who euer fatherd it.

Dym.
Who I!

Sap.
Nay blush not man for you haue told,
You might oft-times haue done it if you wold;
But I do wish her all the good I can,
And praise her choise, though I be not the man.

Tech.
Vnhappie choice!

Dor.
Hard fate!

200

T'is nothing so,
You'le heare a choise more fatall ere you go.
These were but toyes to entertaine the time,
Prepare your handkerchers if you'le haue mine.

All.
What, must we weepe?

Lin.
Shepheards a while forbeare,
And if there be no cause, iudge when you heare.

THE THIRD EGLOGUE Linus' tale

The Argument.

Linus doth Lesbia loue,
And woe, and win,
And after by her
Lightnesse wrongeth him.

The second Argument.

Louely Lesbia, who might be,
For birth, beauty, quality,
Styled Natures Paragon,
Fram'd for Swaines to dote vpon;
In a word for to expresse,
Feature of this Shepheardesse,
If you would her stature know,
She was neither high nor low;

201

But of such a middle size,
As if Nature did deuise,
(For as't seemeth so she ment)
To make her, her president;
With a Sun-reflecting eye,
Skin more smooth then iuory;
Cherrie lip, a dimple chin,
Made for loue to lodge him in;
A sweete chearing-chasing sent,
Which perfum'd ground where she went;
A perswasiue speech, whose tongue
Strucke deepe admiration dombe.
She, euen she, whom all approu'd,
Is by liuely Linus lou'd,
And at last (what would ye more)
Though she was betroth'd before
To Palemon, that braue Swaine,
Who quite droupes through her disdaine,
Is with rites solemnized,
Vnto Linus married;
Whom he finds (as heauen is iust)
After, staind with boundlesse lust,
So as he laments his state,
Of all most vnfortunate,
That he should in hope of pelse,
Wrong both others and himselfe.

202

I lou'd a lasse, alas that ere I lou'd,
Who as she seem'd to be, if she had prou'd,
A worthier Swaine the countrey nere had bred,
And her I woing won, and winning wed.
Tech.
I like thee Linue, thy preamble's short;

Lin.
Technis, indeed I am not of that sort.
Who for a thing of nought will pule and crie,
And childishly put finger in the eye;
The burden of my griefe is great to beare.

Dor.
What is it Linus, pray thee let vs heare?

Lin.
The Maid I got, and Lesbia was her name,
Was to another troth-plight ere I came.

Cor.
How should she Linus then be got by thee?

Lin.
It was my fate, or her inconstancie.
Hows'ere I haue her, and possesse her now,
And would be glad to giue her one of you.

Tech.
Art wearie of thy choice?

Lin.
Technis, I am,
For I'me perswaded she'd wearie any man.
So seeming smooth she is and euer was,
As if she hardly could say Michaelmas:
But priuately so violently fierce,
As I'me afraid her name will spoile my verse.

Cor.
This is some hornet sure.

Lin.
A very waspe,

203

Whose forked tongue who euer should vnclaspe,
Would find't a taske to charme it.

Dym.
Is't so tart;

Lin.
O Dymnus, that thou didst but feele a part
Of my affliction, thou wouldst surely mone,
And pittie me, that's matcht to such an one;
For tell me shepheards was there ere so rare,
A crime, wherein my Lesbia doth not share?
Proud, (though before as humble to the eye
As ere was Maid) so as one may descrie,
Euen by her outward habit what she is,
And by her wanton gesture gather this:
If thou be chast, thy body wrongs thee much,
For thy light carriage saith, thou art none such.

Sap.
Some fashion-monger I durst pawne my life.

Lin.
Sapphus 'tis true, such is poore Linus wife,
Though ill it seemes a country Shepheardesse,
Such harsh fantasticke fashions to professe:
One day vnto a Barber she'de repaire,
And for what end but this, to cut her haire,
So as like to a Boy she did appeare,
Hauing her haire round cut vnto her eare.

Cor.
Good Linus say, how lookt that Minx of thine?

Lin.
Like to a fleecelesse Ewe at shearing time.
So cowd she was, as next day she did show her
Upon the Downs, but not a Swaine could know her;
So strangely clipt she seem'd, and in disguise,
So monstrous ougly, us none could deuise
To see one clad in lothsomer attire:
And this she knew was farre from my desire,
For I did euer hate it.

Tech.
Pray thee Lad

204

Tell vs in earnest how she might be clad!

Lin.
There is a fashion now brought vp of late,
Which here our country Blouzes imitate,
The cause whereof I do not thinke it fit,
If I did know't, for to discouer it,
But sure I iudge, some rot's in womans ioynts,
Which makes them faine to tye them vp with points.

Dym.
With points!

Lin.
Yes Dymnus, that's the fashion now,
Whereof I haue a tale, right well I know,
Will make you laugh.

Dor.
Let's heare that tale of thine.

Lin.
Shepheards you shall; it chanc'd vpon a time,
That Lesbia, whose spirit euer would
Obserue the fashion, do I what I could,
Bearing a port far higher in a word,
Then my abilitie could well afford:
That she I say into this fashion got,
(As what was th' fashion she affected not)
Of tying on with points her looser waste;
Now I obseruing how her points were plast,
The Euen before she to a wake should go,
I all her points did secretly vndo,
Yet therewithall such easie knots did make,
That they might hold till she got to the wake,
Which she not minding.

Cor.
On good Linus, on.

Lin.
She hyes her to the wake (my Corydon)
Where she no sooner came, then she's tane in,
And nimbly falls vnto her reuessing,
But see the lucke on't, while she scuds and skips,
Her vnderbody falls from off her hips,

205

Whereat some laught, while others tooke some ruth,
That she vncas'd, should shew the naked truth.
But heare what happen'd hence, ere th' setting Sunne
Lodg'd in the West, she heard what I had done;
So as resolu'd to quite me in my kind,
Next morne betime, she Hylus chanc'd to find.

Sap.
Who, Clytus boy!

Lin.
Yes Sapphus, selfe-same Lad,
Who was a good boy, ere she made him bad.

Tech.
Pray Linus how?

Lin.
Through her immodestie,
She him allur'd for to dishonour me.

Tech.
Disloyall Lesbia; but pray the shew,
Did Hylus (harmelesse youth) consent thereto?

Lin.
Technis, he did;

Dor.
How shouldst thou know as much?

Lin.
She did display't her selfe.

Dor.
Is her shame such?

Lin.
Yes, and withall defide me to my face,
With such iniurious speeches of disgrace,
As patience could not beare.

Tech.
And didst thou beare them?

Lin.
Yes, Technis yes, & smild when I did heare them
For this is my conceit, it seemeth no man,
To shew his violence vnto a woman.

Dym.
Linus sayes well, but womans nature's such,
They will presume if men do beare too much.
For if the tongue vpon defiance stand,
The tongue should be reuenged by the hand.

Lin.
Some would haue done it Dymnus, but I thought
If I reuenge by such base meanes had sought,
The woreld would condemne me; she could blind

206

Most men with an opinion, she was kind,
But in a modest sort: for on a time,
Rich Amphybæus offring to the shrine
Of Panaretus (as there went report)
Sought for her loue in a dishonest sort,
With price, with prayer, yet nere attain'd his aime,
To soile her honour, or her vertues staine;

Sap.
Women are nice when simple heard-men craue it,
And will say nay, when they the fainst would haue it.

Lin.
'Tis right; and now good shepheards tell me true,
Haue I not cause, for I'le be iudg'd by you,
To mone my hard mishap?

Tech.
Thou hast indeed.

Cor.
Thy woes, friend Linus, make my heartstrings bleed;

Lin.
I thanke you all; but will you heare a song,
Penn'd in the meditation of my wrong!

Dor.
For loues-sake do!

Lin.
Iudge if the descant fit
The burden of my griefe, for this is it;
As for the note before I further go,
My tune is this, and who can blame my woe?

If Marriage life yeeld such content,
What heauie hap haue I,
Whose life with griefe and sorrow spent,
Wish death, yet cannot die:
She's bent to smile when I do storme,
When I am chearefull too,
She seemes to loure, then who can cure,
Or counterpoize my woe?

My marriage day chac'd you away,

207

For I haue found it true,
That bed which did all ioyes display,
Became a bed of rue;
Where aspes do brouze on fancies floure,
And beauties blossome too:
Then where's that power on earth may cure,
Or counterpoize my woe?

I thought loue was the lampe of life,
No life without'en loue,
No loue like to a faithfull wife:
Which when I sought to proue,
I found her birth was not on earth,
For ought that I could know;
Of good ones I perceiu'd a dearth,
Then who can cure my woe?

Zantippe was a iealous shrow,
And Menalippe too,
Faustina had a stormie brow,
Corinna'es like did show;
Yet these were Saints compar'd to mine,
For mirth and mildlesse too:
Who runs diuision all her time,
Then who can cure my woe?

My boord no dishes can afford,
But chafing dishes all,
Where selfe-will domineres as Lord,
To keepe poore me in thrall;
My discontent giues her content,
My friend she vowes her foe:

208

How should I then my sorrowes vent,
Or cure my endlesse woe?

No cure to care, farewell all ioy,
Retire poore soule and die,
Yet ere thou die, thy selfe employ,
That thou maist mount the skie;
Where thou may moue commanding Ioue,
That Pluto he might go
To wed thy wife, who end't thy life,
For this will cure thy wo!

Dym.
I iudge by this, that thou wouldst faine forsake her,
And freely giue her any that would take her.

Lin.
Dymnus I would, but I my crosse must beare,
As I haue done before this many yeare;
But since our griefes are equally exprest,
Let's now compare which is the heauiest!

Tech.
I lost my Amarillida;

Dor.
But she
Was nothing to Bellina.

Dym.
No, nor she
Like to my faire Palmira.

Cor.
Nor all three
Equall to Celia;

Sap.
Let Siluia be
The onely faire.

Lin.
Admit, they all were faire,
Your griefes with me, may haue no equall share,
For you are free, so as perhaps you may
Make choice of some, may be as faire as they;
But I am bound, and that in such a knot,

209

As onely death may it vnloose, or not.

Tech.
To Linus must we yeeld; but who are these?

Dor.
Two iollie shepheards, that do hither prese,
With ribbon fauours, and rosemary sprigs,
Chanting along our Downes their rurall jigs.
As to some wedding boun;

Sap.
You may presume,
For Iohn vnto the May-pole is their tune,
And that's their bridall note.

Lin.
Let vs draw neare them,
Close to this shadie Beech, where we may heare them.

The shepheards holy-day, reduced in apt measures to Hobbinalls Galliard, or Iohn to the May-pole.

Forth of a curious Spinet graced with the best rarities of Art and Nature, Mopsus, a shepheard, and Marina a shepheardesse, singing a Nuptiall hymne in the way to the Bridall.

[_]

Speakers' name have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:

For Mopso. read Mopsus
For Mar. read Marina

Mopso.
Come Marina let's away,
For both Bride and Bridegroome stay,
Fie for shame are Swaines so long,
Pinning of their head-geare on?
Pray thee see,
None but we,
Mongst the Swaines are left vnreadie,
Fie, make hast,
Bride is past,
Follow me and I will leade thee.

210

Mar.
On my louely Mopsus, on,
I am readie, all is done,
From my head vnto my foote,
I am fitted each way to't;
Buskins gay,
Gowne of gray,
Best that all our flocks do render,
Hat of stroe,
Platted through,
Cherrie lip and middle slender.

Mop.
And I thinke you will not find
Mopsus any whit behind,
For he loues as well to go,
As most part of shepheards do.
Cap of browne,
Bottle-crowne,
With the leg I won at dancing,
And a pumpe
Fit to iumpe,
When we shepheards fall a prancing.

And I know there is a sort,
Will be well prouided for't,
For I heare, there will be there
Liueliest Swaines within the Shere:
Ietting Gill,
Iumping Will,
Ore the floore will haue their measure:
Kit and Kate,
There will waite,
Tib and Tom will take their pleasure.

211

Mar.
But I feare;

Mop.
What doest thou feare?

Mar.
Crowd the fidler is not there:
And my mind delighted is,
With no stroake so much as his.

Mop.
If not he,
There will be
Drone the piper that will trounce it.

Mar.
But if Crowd,
Strucke aloud,
Lord me thinks how I could bounce it!

Mop.
Bounce it Mall, I hope thou will,
For I know that thou hast skill,
And I am sure thou there shalt find,
Measures store to please thy mind;
Roundelayes,
Irish-hayes,
Cogs and rongs and Peggie Ramsie,
Spaniletto,
The Uenetto,
Iohn come kisse me, Wilsons fancie.

Mar.
But of all there's none so sprightly
To my eare, as tutch me lightly:
For it's this we shepheards loue,
Being that which most doth moue;
There, there, there,
To a haire,
O Tim Crowd, me thinks I heare thee,
Young nor old,
Nere could hold,
But must leake if they come nere thee.

212

Mop.
Blush Marina, fie for shame,
Blemish not a shepheards name;

Mar.
Mopsus why, is't such a matter,
Maids to shew their yeelding nature?
O what then,
Be ye men,
That will beare your selues so froward,
When you find
Us inclin'd,
To your bed and boord so toward?

Mop.
True indeed, the fault is ours,
Though we tearme it oft-times yours;

Mar.
What would shepheards haue vs do,
But to yeeld when they do wo?
And we yeeld
Them the field,
And endow them with our riches.

Mop.
Yet we know,
Oft-times too,
You'le not sticke to weare the breches.

Mar.
Fooles they'le deeme them, that do heare them
Say, their wiues are wont to weare them:
For I know there's none has wit,
Can endure or suffer it;
But if they
Haue no stay,
Nor discretion (as tis common)
Then they may
Giue the sway,
As is fitting to the woman.

213

Mop.
All too long (deare loue) I weene,
Haue we stood vpon this theame:
Let each lasse, as once it was,
Loue her Swaine, and Swaine his lasse:
So shall we
Honor'd be,
In our mating, in our meeting,
While we stand
Hand in hand,
Honest Swainling, with his Sweeting.

Dor.

How say you shepheards, shall we all repaire
Unto this wedding, to allay our care?

Dym.
Agreed for me.

Tech.
And I am well content.

Cor.
On then, let's make our life a merriment.

Sap.
See where they come!
May Hymen aye defend them.

Lin.
And far more ioy then I haue had God send them.

FINIS.

215

Perivissem, nisi perivissem.

216

To her in whose chast breast choisest vertues, as in their Abstract, are seated: The accomplishd Lady P. W. wife to the Nobly-descended S. T. W. Knight: and daughter to the much honoured, S. R. C. All correspondence to her worthiest wishes.

217

OMPHALE,

OR, THE INCONSANT SHEPHEARDESSE.

In bondage free, in freedome bound I am,
A hopelesse, haplesse, loue-sicke, life-sicke man;
When I write ought, streight loue preuenteth me,
And bids me write of nought but Omphale:
When I ride East, my heart is in the West,
Lodg'd in the center of her virgin-breast.
The homeliest cell would chearefull seeme to me,
If I in it might liue with Omphale.
My youth growes ag'd, for though I'me in my prime,
Loue hath made furrowes in this face of mine;
So as last day (aye me vnhappie else)
Looking in th' glasse, I scarce could know my selfe.
And I, from whom these sharpe extreames did grow,
Was not content, but I must tell her too,
Which made her proud, for few or none there are,
(If women) but they'r proud if they be faire.
All this last Sommer hath it bene my hap,
To sport, toy, play, and wanton in her lap,

218

And euer th' more I plaid, if so I could,
Or strength admitted meanes, the more I would:
For truth confirmes that Maxime, where we find
A louing, loyall, well-disposed mind,
Prest for encounter, there we loue to plant,
Feeding on Loues delights in midst of want;
For Loue contemnes all want, and counts't a gaine,
To purchase one houres ioy with two yeares paine.
Alas how oft (too oft thou well may say)
Haue I in priuate spent with her the day,
Inuoking th' Sunne, plants, heauen, and earth and all,
If fall I should, she did procure my fall?
And still she vow'd, and bit her lip, and stept
Apart from me, and wip'd her eyes and wept,
And stood and chid, and call'd me most vniust,
To harbour in my bosome such distrust.
And I (too credulous I) as one dismaid,
Was forced to recant what I had said,
Swearing I was resolu'd that th' constancie,
Of

Or Hypermnestra, one of the fiftie daughters of Danaus, who out of a tender nuptiall affectiō, saued her husband Lynceus from that great slaughter which was committed by her sisters, in slaying their husbands.

Hypemnestra match'd not Omphale.
Thus did I gull my selfe to sooth my loue,
Who prou'd a Serpent, though she seem'd a Doue:
For vowes, protests, and all that she had spoken,
Were by her light affection quickly broken.
And whence came this? not frō me, heauen thou knowes,
But from my loue who triumphs in my woes;
My loue; raze out that name: she was indeed,
When thou and she your lanbkins vs'd to feede
On Arnus flowrie banks, being wont to make
Posies and nosegaies for her shepheards sake,
And bind them to his hooke; but let that passe,
She is not she, nor time the same it was.

219

For then (ô then) suspicious eyes were free,
And none but heauenly bodies lookt on thee;
(Too faire spectators,) though we now and then
Dispence with Gods sight rather then with men.
And can she thinke on this and not relent,
Or thinking not of this, can she consent
To leaue Admetus? Yes, why can she not!
Now loues she Cloris, and I feare his lot
Will proue as fatall, for her very eye
Tells me she meanes to tread her shoe awry.
And this I saw before, and durst not see,
For th' loue I bore to her, perswaded me
She could not be so thankelesse, as requite
My faithfull seruice with such strange despite:
Yet I perceiu'd, not by suspicious feare,
But by the Organs both of eye and eare,
That loue was fained which to me she bore,
Reseruing others to supply her store.
And I confesse in th' end I iealous grew,
For some had many fauours, I but few;
Others had smiles, I frownes, so as I say,
I found her former fancie fall away,
Which gaue increase to griefe, cause to my eye
To looke into her steps more narrowly;
So as poore foole (so vainely did I erre)
I thought each bush did play th' Adulterer,
So violent was this passion; which to show,
Though of Actæons there be store enow,
I briefly meane, (and let all others passe)
To tell you how my iealous humour was.
Each thing I ey'd, did represent to me,
The louely feature of my Omphale,

220

Yet so, as still that precious forme I saw,
Did by attractiue power another draw,
To make her forme more complete, for we know,
Number can ne're consist of lesse then two.
Streight did I see, (suspition made me see)
My selfe made cuckold in a phantasie,
Which in my thoughts such deepe impression tooke,
As now and then I threw away my booke,
Calling my selfe an Asse, to pore on that
Which gaue my wench time to cornute my pate;
And to confirme the height of my disgrace,
Suffer the rifling of her common place.
Sometimes in silent nights, when hoarie care
Is charm'd asleepe, and men exempted are
From day-bred passions, would I start from bed,
And sweare, the night had me dishonoured;
While she (sleepe-lulled soule) did thinke no harme,
But lay entwining me with arme in arme:
Yet hearing me she wakt, and chid me too,
For doing (humerous foole) what I did do,
And as she chid I wept, yet inward faine,
My dreames prou'd false, I went to bed againe.
If I but found her in discourse with any,
I streight renounc'd her loue, and swore too many
Were factors in my Pinnace, yet one frowne
Sent from her brow, subdude me as her owne.
If she receiu'd a letter from a friend,
I streight coniectur'd what it did intend;
Supposing (vaine suppose) where th' place should be,
That witnesse might the shame of Omphale:
To which I vow'd reuenge, though nothing were,
But my owne thoughts that ministred this feare.

221

Oft would I faine (for what were all my thoughts,
But fictions meerely) that she played nought
With her owne shadow, and Narcissus-like,
That in her forme she tooke such quaint delight,
As forced now to surfet on her store,
She prou'd this true: Much plentie made her poore.
Thus did her presence cause me to admire her,
Her absence like occasion to desire her;
Without whose presence, though the Sunneshone faire,
All seemed darke, because she was not there.
Last time we parted with teare-trickling eye,
Hand ioyn'd in hand right ceremonially,
I calld the heauens and sacred powers aboue,
To witnesse with me my vnfained loue,
And vow'd withall, if ere it should appeare,
I broke the faith which I had plight to her,
Or entred any bed lasciuiously,
Intending to play false with Omphale,
Or entertain'd least thought of disrespect
To her or hers in nature of neglect,
Or euer cancell'd th' deed, which (heauens you know,
Was seal'd and was deliuer'd twixt vs two)
Or euer chang'd my fancie, to deuide
My shared loue vnto another Bride,
Or ere disclaim'd what I in secret vow'd,
Or disallow what Hymen had allow'd;
If this or that, or any of these all,
Should censure me of lightnesse, that my fall
Might recompence my shame (which heauens forbid)
And this I vow'd to do, and this I did.
Nor did she spare to second me in this,
But wish'd if ere she chanc'd to do amisse,

222

With an intent of ill, or violate
Those solemne hests our loues had consummate,
Or stain'd that spousall rest, that blest repose,
Where two encountred, yet were neither foes;
Or disesteem'd my loue, or prized it
Lesse then a constant louer did befit,
Or let one day or night passe carelesly,
Without recalling me to memory,
Or giue occasion to the world to say,
She loues another when her loue's away,
Or entertaine a fauour, or descry
Least of affection by alluring eye,
Or riot in my absence, or consort
With any that might blemish her report,
Or frequent publicke presence, which might moue
A subiect for varietie of loue:
If this or that, or any should begin
To taxe her life, might vengeance plague her sinne.
Thus we both vow'd, and thus we parted too,
But heare how soone my loue infring'd her vow;
No sooner had the region of the West,
Remou'd me from my loue, and reft me rest,
Where steepie mountaines ragged and vneuen,
Ossa and Pelion-like do menace heauen,
Where scalpie hils and sandie vales imply,
The ploughmans toile's requited slenderly;
Where their course feeding and their homely fare,
Makes their wits lumpish, and their bodies spare:
Then she (inconstant she) forgot me cleane,
And all her vowes, as if I had not bene.
Distance of place, made distance in our loue,
And as my body mou'd, her loue did moue

223

From her first center: thus euen in my Prime,
Did my loue change, when I did change my clime.
Thus like blind Cupids ball (by fancie crost)
Was I to euery hazard strangely tost;
Thus was my seruice guerdon'd with disgrace,
While Cloris crept into Admetus place:
And can her height of sinne be thus forgot?
No, wanton no, who is it knowes it not?
So as thy crime thy nature will display,
And make thy storie worse then Cressida,
Who in contempt of faith, (as we do reade)
Reiected Troilus for Diomede!
Canst thou make shew of loue to me or any,
That art expos'd to louing of so many?
Canst thou haue heart to vow, when thou forsooke,
And didst infringe the oath which thou first tooke?
Canst thou haue face to come in open light,
That hast incurr'd reuenge in his pure sight,
Whose vengeance thou inuok't? canst thou repaire
Unto thy sex, or taste the common ayre,
Hauing, (by making of thy faith so common)
Infected th' ayre, impeach'd the Sex of women?
Canst thou looke on that faithlesse hand of thine,
And giue it to another being mine?
Canst thou, and see that face, not blush to see
Those teares thou shed, and vowes thou made to me?
Or canst embrace another in thy bed,
Hearing thy first espoused friend not dead?
Suppose I should surprize thee, could I long
Restraine my hand, and not reuenge my wrong?
Could I allay my passion vnexprest,
Or see th' Adulterer sleepe within thy brest?

224

Could I endure my bed should be abus'd,
Or see her strumpeted, whom I had chus'd?
Could I content my selfe to see my shame,
And coward-like, not to redresse the same?
No, no insatiate thou, sooner could time
Leaue his gradation, or the Sunne to shine,
Light bodies to ascend and leaue their center,
Riuers their downeward course, then I should venter
My patience on that odds: but foolish I,
That gaue no credit to mine eare or eye,
But made my senses all Cassandra'es, where
Mine eare presag'd, yet I'de not trust mine eare:
Such strange distempers doth this Circe breed,
This phrensie-fancie in a louers head,
That though he heare, see, taste, and touch, & smell
His loues vnkindnesse, yet he dare not tell,
But must renounce th' instruction of all these,
Yea, (euen himselfe) that he his wench may please.
O why should man tearme woman th' weaker kind,
Since they are stronger, as we daily find,
In will, and head, although their husbands browes,
Oft to a harder kind of temper growes?
So as for all that we do style them weaker,
They oft become to be their husbands maker!
But now Admetus, wilt thou pine and die,
And waste thy selfe for her inconstancie?
Wilt thou lament the losse of such an one,
As hath resolu'd to keepe her faith with none?
Or canst thou dote on her, that longs to be
Affected of each youth that she doth see?
No, no Admetus, since she proues vntrue,
Shed not one teare nor sigh, for none is due,

225

But offer Pan the chiefe of all thy flocke,
That thou art rid of such a weathercocke.
Now maist thou pipe vpon thy oaten reede,
Whilest thy Mug-sheepe on Arnus pastures feede:
Where bonnie Clytus will attend on thee,
And Mopsus too will keepe thee companie.
There the late-freed Capnus will repaire,
And ioy to taste the freedome of the ayre;
Where he will descant on no rurall theame,
But on Ambitions curbe, the golden meane.
And ioy he may, for who did euer heare
Such alterations as in him appeare?
Where long restraint hath labour'd to restore
That loue to him, which he had lost before.
With whom Admetus may in consort ioyne,
Comparing of your fortunes one by one;
He to regaine the loue which he had lost,
Thou to forget her loue that wrong'd thee most.
And well would this beseeme Admetus straine,
“For shepheards should not laugh at others paine,
But in compassion of their grieues and them,
To imitate their passions in the same.
And this's a better course, and safer too,
Then to do that which thou so late didst do,
Pining and puling, wishing death appeare,
Which for thy wishes was no whit the neare.
“For death (whē we are happie) will come nie vs,

Iobe in Oet. Her.

“But if we wretched be, then death will flie vs.
How oft hath my experience made this good,
When wishing death, I was by death withstood?
For still I thought my woes would haue an end
If Death arriu'd, afflictions welcome friend.

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But th' more I sought, the more he fled from me,
To make me riper in my miserie:
“For griefe is of that nature, as it growes
“In age, so new effects it daily showes.
Yet now thou liues (and thanks to th' powers aboue)
Hast neare by this, supprest the thoughts of loue.
Now canst thou feed, and sleepe, and laugh, & talke,
Sport, and tell tales, refresh thy selfe, and walke
In flowrie Meedes, whilest thou seest Cloris hing
His iealous head to heare the Cuckow sing.
Alas (poore man) what bondage is he in,
To serue a Swaine that's cauteriz'd in sin,
Expos'd to shame, and prostitute to lust,
In whom nor's grace, nor faith, nor loue, nor trust?
And heauen I wish, she may in time reclaime
Her former course, and rectifie the same:
But th' Pumice stone will hardly water yeeld,
Or grace appeare in such a barren field:
For such light mates encompasse her about,
As Vertue's choak't before it can take roote.
O Cloris, if thou knew Admetus mind,
And th' hard conceit he h'as of womankind,
Whose fairest lookes, are lures, affections, baits,
Words, wind, vowes, vaine, and their protests deceits,
Songs, charms, teares, traines to trace vs to our end,
Smiles, snares, frowns, fears, which to our ruine tend:
Then wouldst thou (Cloris) censure Omphale,
The pregnant mirror of inconstancie,
And curbe thy fancie, ere it haue least part
In one can vow so often with one heart.
For heare me (Cloris) she did neuer show

227

More loue to thee, then she to others too:
Yet what art thou (if man) maist build thee more
Upon her faith then others did before?
What art thou canst perswade thy selfe of this,
She'le not tread right, h'as trod so long amisse,
Or that she'le now proue constant, that h'as prou'd,
So faithlesse to the most, that she has lou'd?
No, Cloris no, the Prouerbe it is true,
And is confirm'd in her whom thou doest sue;
“To wash the Moore, is labouring in vaine,
“For th' colour that he h'as, is di'd in graine.
So th' more thou striues to make her blacknes white,
Thou drawes heauens curtaine to display her night.
Her night indeed, saue that no starres appeare,
(No lights of grace) within her hemi-spheare,
But th' changing Moone, whose lightnesse doth expresse
That light-inconstant mind of Omphales:
“Where Vertue seemes at Nature to complaine,
“That vice should be at full, and she at waine.
Yet Nature answers, she h'as done her part,
And that the fault is rather in her heart,
That is so spacious, to entertaine
The wauering loue of euery wanton Swaine.
And I assent to Nature, for it's showne,
By her rare workemanship, what she h'as done,
In giuing beautie lustre, her content;
In forming her, her selfe to represent.
And reason good; for when I thinke vpon,
That Zeuxes, Phydias, and Pigmalion,
(Those natiue artists) who indeed did striue
To make their curious statues seeme aliue,
Reducing art to Nature; then I find,

228

Nature had cause to satisfie her mind
In something aboue art, that after-time
Might moue her to reioyce, art to repine.
And what more mouing patterne could there be,
Then the admired forme of Omphale,
Whose feature equall'd Nature, and did show
The very Spring whence fancie's said to flow?
For first her stature's seemely, which I call,
Neither too dwarfish low, nor giant-tall;
Her front a rising-mount, her eyes two lamps,
Which, wheresoere she lookes impression stamps;
Her cheeke twixt rosie red and snowie white,
Attracts an admiration with delight;
Her nose nor long nor short, nor high nor low,
Nor flat, nor sharpe, the token of a shrow;
Her mouth nor ferret-straite, nor callet-broade,
But of an apt proportion, as it should;
Her breath the fragrant odour, which loue sips
From these two cherrie portels of her lips;
Where those two iuory pales or rowes of teeth,
Accent her speech, perfumed by her breath;
Her chin th' inclining vale, deuided is,
By th' daintie dimple of loues choisest blisse,
Which, as maine flouds from smallest currents flow,
Deriues her sweets to th' riuelings below;
Her necke a rocke enazur'd with pure veines
Of orient pearle, which with amorous chaines
Of lou's desir'd embraces, charmes the eye,
And tyes it to her obiect, when she's by;
Her breasts two Orbs or Mounts, or what you will
That may include perfection, which to fill
The world with admiration, are layd out,

229

To worke the feate her lightnesse goes about;
Two prettie nipples, one oppos'd gainst t'other,
Challenge the name of Nurse as well as Mother:
Though some (for state makes loue to children worse)
Scorne, being mothers to become their nurse.
In briefe her all, (because Ple not descend,
In praise of that, where praises haue no end)
Is beauties faire Idæa, which implies
Height of content, to loues amazed eyes.
And yet this she, the modell of delight,
Though outward faire, seemes to my inward sight,
As spotted as the Ermine, whose smooth skin,
Though it be faire without, is foule within.
For what more foule then vice? but chiefly that
Which makes a woman to degenerate,
From her more shamefast Sex, where modestie
Should sit vpon her cheeke, to verifie
What th' Comick said: straid thoughts find neuer rest,
“But shamefast lookes become a woman best.
Indeed they do; for there is greater sence,
That shame should moue man more then impudence;
For bashfull lookes adde fuell to loues fire,
While th' spirit of lust doth with her flame expire.
Which makes me wonder, that th' interiour light
Whence man resembles God, should lose his sight,
By doting on an Idoll, that can take
To charme loues dazled eyes a Syrens shape,
Making Art vye with Nature for the best,
And soiling that which should surpasse the rest.
For what is faire, if that be all there is,
But an eye-pleasing thing, that yeelds no blisse,
Wanting that inward faire, which who enioyes,

230

Esteemes all outward ornaments as toyes,
Compared to that beauty, which no Art
Could euer equall, or expresse in part?
Indeed the grace of vertue is more rare,
And exquisite, when she that's good is faire,
For she becomes most complete well we know,
That's grac'd with vertue and with beautie too.
Whence that experienst

Socrates.

Morall vs'd to reach
A looking-glasse to such as he did teach;
Wherein, if such were faire themselues did eye,
He would exhort them rather to apply
Their minds to vertue, for great pittie twere,
Foule soules (quoth he) should haue a face so faire:
But if deform'd, he streight would counsell them,
With wholesome precepts to supply the same;
For fit it were (quoth he) a face so foule,
Should be prouided of a beauteous soule.
But rare's this composition, for we find,
Seldome that double blisse in woman-kind,
Where she that's faire can soone admire her owne,
And knowes what Nature for her selfe hath done:
Yea she by this can learne another straine,
Put on coy looks, and th' fashion of disdaine,
Mins-speech, huff-pace, sleeke-skin, and perfum'd breath,
Goats-haire, brests-bare, plume-fronted, fricace-teeth,
All which infuse new motions into man,
Late borrow'd of th' Italian Curtezan.
But now to thee thou wanton, will I come,
To taxe, not visit that polluted tombe,
Of all infection, which to giue it due,
Is now become no Temple but a stue;
Tell me, disdainfull faire, if I ere wrong'd,

231

Or thee, or any that to thee belong'd!
Haue I incurr'd dishonour, or deuoted
My loue to many, whereby I am noted?
Haue I bene too profuse in my respect,
To othersome, and blancht thee with neglect?
Haue I incurr'd a merited disgrace,
In begging loue when thou was out of place?
Haue I by courting any, ere exprest,
My selfe ought lesse then what I still profest?
Didst euer see a fauour worne by me,
But that poore bracelet I receiu'd of thee,
Twisted with gold, and with thy faithlesse haire,
Which now I'ue throwne away with all my care?
Did I ere vow and breake, as thou hast done,
Or plight my faith (saue thee) to any one?
Why then shouldst thou infringe that sacred oath,
Which with a kisse was sealed to vs both,
When scarce one houre did vs occasion giue,
(So short was time) to take our lasting leaue?
But I can guesse where thou wilt lay the blame;
Not on thy selfe, but on them whence thou came,
That lustfull stocke I meane, which gaue beginning
To thee of being first, and then of sinning.
It's true indeed, we know a poisoned spring,
Can seld or neuer wholesome water bring,
Nor can we looke that any barren field,
Should ought saue tares or fruitlesse Darnell yeeld:
For this from Scripture may collected be,
“Such as the fruite is, such is still the tree.
Too late I find this true, and heauens I wish,
My former harmes may caution me of this;
For what is ill descendeth in a blood,

232

Sooner and surer too, then what is good.
“For th' fathers vertues still attend his bere,
“And being dead, with him lie buried there;
“But th' vices which he had are not content
“To die with him, but liue in his descent.
So natiue is thy ill, hauing her birth
From that corrupted stock which brought thee forth,
As sooner may the Æthiope become white,
Th' Cymmerian pitchie shade transparent light,
The Tiger leaue his nature, th' Wolfe his prey,
The Sunne to guide the chariot of the day,
The Pellican her desart, or the Craine,
That nat'rall loue which in her doth remaine
Unto her parents; then thy parents shame,
Got by their sinne, be wiped from thy name.
No wanton, no, thy darknesse is displayd,
Which can by no meanes re-disperse her shade,
But shall suruiue all time; for it's the will
Of Powers aboue, there should be life in ill,
As well as good: that th' memory of the first
Might make succeeding ages count her curst.
For I haue red (and thou was cause I red)
Some fickle Dames in stories mentioned,
Whose small respect to th' honour of their name,
Hath made them since the lasting heires of shame:
And such were Messalina, Martia,
Faustina, Lays, Claudia,

Portia the famous Curtizan; and that noble Ladie, an eminent patterne of modestie, wife to Port. Cato the Senatour.

Portia,
Two of which name there were of different kind,
In th' various disproportion of their mind;
“One good, one ill, one light, one constant prouing,
“One spousall-lothing, one her honour louing.
But which of these can equall Omphale?

233

Or which of these liue more licentiously?
All patternes in their time (as well they might)
And cautions too, to moue vs tread aright
That do succeed them: yet obserue this staine,
This wedlocks-blemish, and you will complaine,
Of th' present times, that they'r more ripe in sinne,
And breach of faith, then former times haue bin.
More ripe indeed, for where's that age become,
“Folke di'd for loue, as we haue red of some,
Who their affections so implanted haue,
As nought could bury fancie but their graue?
But these were childish times; indeed they were,
For rather then for her I'de shed one teare,
That disesteemes my loue, or send one grone,
Or sigh, or sob, or pule, or make a mone,
Or fold my armes, as forlorne louers vse,
Or grieue to lose, when she doth others chuse,
Or breake my sleepe, or take a solemne fast,
I wish that taske might be Admetus last.
No Omphale, though time was when I mourn'd,
That time is chang'd, and now my humour's turn'd;
So as I scarce remember what thou art,
That once lay neare and deare vnto my heart.
Now is my Pasture greene and flourishing,
And poore Melampus which was wont to hing
His heauie head (kind curre) for's maisters sake,
Begins his sullen humour to forsake.
Now is my bottle mended, and my hooke,
My bag, my pipe, so as if thou should looke,
And see Admetus with his woollie store,
Thou'de say, he were not th' man he was before;
And iudge him too, (to see him now reuiue,

232

And change his note) the happiest man aliue.
And so I am, to liue and leaue to loue.
(Though faithfull mates would flinty natures moue)
Whose rare effects the Poet seemes to show,
When wiues expresse th' affections which they owe.
“Turtle with Turtle, husband with his mate,
“In distinct kindes one loue participate.
But since affection is so rare to find,
Where th' face weares not the liuerie of the mind,
And womans vowes (as th' Satyre rightly saith)
Be rather made for complement then faith;
Be free from loue Admetus: if not free,
At least from loue of such as Omphale.

FINIS.

234

A Poem describing the leuitie of a woman: reseruing all generous respect to the vertuously affected of that Sexe.

First I feare not to offend,
A very thing of nothing,
Yet whom thus farre I commend,
She's lighter then her clothing:
Nay from the foote vnto the crowne,
Her very Fan will weigh her downe:
And marke how all things with her Sexe agree,
For all her vertues are as light as she.

1

She chats and chants but ayre,
A windie vertue for the eare,
T'is lighter farre then care,
And yet her songs do burthens beare.

2

She dances, that's but mouing,
No heauie vertue here she changes,
And as her heart in louing,
So her feete in constant ranges.

3

She softly leanes on strings,
She strikes the trembling lute and quauers:

235

These are no weightie things,
Her strokes are light, so are her fauours.
Those are her vertues fitting to her kind,
No sooner showne, but they turnd all to wind.

4

Then to you, O Sexe of fethers,
On whose browes sit all the wethers,
I send my Passion weau'd in rimes,
To weigh downe these light emptie times.

Descript.

What are you, O heires of scorning,
But like Dew that melts each morning;
Euening vapours, and nights prize,
To answer our voluptuous eyes:
And but to screene that sinnes delight,
I thinke there neuer had bene night.

Nor had we bene from vertue so exempt,
But that the tempter did leaue you to tempt.
You bit the Apple first that makes vs die,
Wheres'ere we looke the apple's in our eye,
And death must gather it; for your turn'd breath,
And mortall teeth e'en to the core strucke death.

FINIS.

236

HIS ODES:

OR, PHILOMELS TEARES.

[Odes in straines of sorrow tell]

Odes in straines of sorrow tell
Fate and fall of euery fowle,
Mounting Merlin, Philomel,
Lagging Lapwing, Swallow, Owle;
Whence you may obserue how state
Rais'd by pride, is raz'd by hate.

237

TO THE GENEROVS, INGENIOVS, AND IVDICIOVS Philalethist, Thomas Ogle Esquire: the succeeding issue of his diuinest wishes.

Vnknowne to you I am, yet knowne I am
To th' better part of you, your vertuous name;
Which like a precious odour hath infus'd
Your loue so much in me, as I haue chus'd
Your selfe, to patronize what I haue writ,
Whose name I thought had power to shelter it.
I grant indeed, Smooth Eagle for your name,
Includes that Sun-reflecting (Anagram)
These birds which in my Odes their fates display,
Are some night-birds, as others of the day;
Which in my iudgement, tenders more delight,
To see how sin's orecurtained by night,
Whereas the day sends forth his golden raies,
And shewes such birds as chant their makers praise.
Which Morall, is it suites these times of ours,
I do disclaime my right in't, it is yours,
If you esteeme it worthie to obtaine
Your approbation: This is all our ayme.

R. B.

245

THE TRAVELLOVR,

DILATING VPON THE sundrie changes of humane affaires, most fluctuant when appearing most constant.

AN ODE.

Tell me man, what creature may
Promise him such safe repose,
As secure from hate of foes,
He may thus much truly say,
Nought I haue I feare to lose,
No mischance can me dismay;
Tell me, pray thee (if thou can)
If the woreld haue such a man!

Tell me, if thou canst discerne
By thy reasons excellence,
What man for his prouidence,
Of the Pismire may not learne:
Yet that creature hath but sense,
Though she do her liuing earne,
Spare, not costly, is her fare,
Yet her granar shewes her care!

246

Tell me, canst thou shew me him,
That exact in each deuice,
Is at all times truly wise,
And is neuer seene to swim
(For in this his iudgement lies)
Gainst the current of the streame,
But seemes to haue full command,
Of each thing he takes in hand!

Tell me, was there euer knowne
Such a man that had a wit,
And in some part knew not it,
Till at last conceited growne,
He grew prowder then was fit,
Euer boasting of his owne;
For that Maxime true we know,
“He that's wittie, knowes him so!

Tell me, is that man on earth,
Whose affaires so stable are,
As they may for all his care,
Fall not crosse and crabdly forth,
And of sorrowes haue no share,
Which descend to man by birth;
What is he can promise rest,
When his mind's with griefe opprest!

Tell me, is there ought so strong,
Firmely-constant, permanent,
Or on earth such true content,
As it fadeth not ere long:
Is there ought so excellent,

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As it changeth not her song
And in time that all deuoures
Mixeth sweets with sharpest soures!

Tell me, who is he that shines
In the height of Princes loue;
Sitting minion-like with loue,
Glorying in those golden times,
But he feares something may moue
His distast by whom He climbes:
Wherefore he that feares to fall,
Should forbeare to climbe at all!

Tell me, where is Fortune plac'd,
That she may not men beguile,
Shrowding frownes with fained smile;
Where is He so highly grac'd,
Shewing greatnesse in his stile,
Hath not bene in time out-fac'd,
By some riuall, where still one
Striues to put another downe!

Tell me, then what life can be
Moresecure, then where report
Makes vs onely knowne to th' Court,
Where we leade our liues so free,
As we're strangers to resort,
Saue our priuate familie;
For I thinke that dwelling best,
Where least cares disturbe our rest!

244

THE NIGHTINGALL.

2. ODE.

Ivg , IVg; faire fall the Nightingall,
Whose tender breast
Chants out her merrie Madrigall,
With hawthorne prest:
Te'u, Te'u, thus sings she euen by euen,
And represents the melodie in heauen;
T'is, T'is
I am not as I wish.

Rape-defiled Phylomel
In her sad mischance,
Tells what she is forc'd to tell,
While the Satyres dance:
Vnhappie I, quoth she, vnhappie I,
That am betraide by Tereus trecherie;
T'is, T'is,
I am not as I wish:

Chast-vnchast, defloured, yet
Spotlesse in heart,
Lust was all that He could get,
For all his art:
For I nere attention lent
To his suite, nor gaue consent:
T'is, T'is,
I am not as I wish.

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Thus hath faithlesse Tereus made
Heartlesse Phylomele
Mone her in her forlorne shade,
Where griefe I feele:
Griefe that wounds me to the heart,
Which though gone, hath left her smart;
T'is, T'is,
I am not as I wish.

THE LAPWING.

3. ODE.

Vnhappie I to change my aerie nest,
For this same marish dwelling where I rest,
Wherfore my song while I repeate,
I'le close it vp;
Rue yet, rue yet,

Euery Cowheard driuing his beasts to graze,
Disturbs my rest, me from my nest doth raise,
Which makes my young take vp this song,
To wreake my wrong;
Rue yet, rue yet.

Thou subtile Stockdoue that hast cheated me,
By taking vp thy nest where I should be,
Hast me and mine in perill set,

246

Whose song is fit;
Rue yet, rue yet.

Solely-retired, see I liue alone,
Farre from recourse or sight of any one,
And well that life would suite with me,
Were I but free;
Rue yet, rue yet.

Young-ones I haue, that thinking I am fled,
Do leaue their nest, and run with shell on head,
And hauing found me out we cry,
Both they and I;
Rue yet, rue yet.

Crest-curled mates why do you beare so long
The Stockdoues pride, that triumphs in your wrong
Let vs our signals once display,
And make him say;
Rue yet, rue yet.

Too tedious hath our bondage bene I wis,
And onely patience was the cause of this,
Where if we would contract our power,
We'de sing no more;
Rue yet, rue yet.

March on then brauely, as if Mars were here,
And hate no guest so much as slauish feare,
Let the proud Stockdoue feele your wing,
That he may sing;
Rue yet, rue yet.

247

Let none escape, though they submissiue seeme,
Till you haue spoil'd and quite vnfether'd them,
So you shall make them vaile the wing,
And henceforth sing;
Rue yet, rue yet.

THE OWLE.

4. ODE.

I a Kings daughter, see what pride may do,
In fatall yewe takes vp my forlorne seate,
The cause wherof was this, if you would know,
I would haue better bread then grew on wheate,
Though now a Mouse be all the food I eate,
And glad I am when I can feed of it.

Ruff-curled necke, see I reserue some show
O what I was, though far from her I was,
Wherein my boundlesse pride so farre did grow,
That as in place I did the rest surpasse,
So in the purest beautie of my face,
Courting my selfe in fancies looking glasse.

Milke-bathed skin, see wantons what I vs'd,
To make my skin more supple, smooth, & sleeke

248

Wherein my natiue hue by Art abus'd,
I lay a new complexion on my cheeke,
Sending my eyes abroad suters to seeke,
And vying fashions with each day i'th weeke.

Nought I affected more then what was rare,
“Best things (if common) I did disesteeme,
Seld was I breathd on by the publike ayre,
“For those are most admir'd are seldome seene,
Which is, and hath a custome euer bene,
“Such as come oft abroad, we vulgar deeme.

Thus selfe-admir'd I liu'd, till thus transform'd,
I got a feature fitting with my pride:
For I that scorned others now am scorn'd,
Had in disgrace; and in pursuite beside;
May the like fate like spirits aye betide,
So worthlesse honour shall be soone descride.

For ruff thick-set, a curle-wreathed plume,
Round 'bout my necke I weare, for tyres of gold
A downie tuft of feathers is my crowne,
For fan in hand my clawes a pearch do hold,
And for those cates and dainties manifold,
“A mouse I wish, but wants her when I would.

Be well aduis'd then Minions, what you do,
“Portray my feature, and make vse of it,
What fell to me may likewise fall to you,
And then how daring-high so ere you fit,
Nought but dishonour shall your pride begit,
“Dead to report of Uertue as is fit.

249

THE MERLIN.

5. ODE.

Whence Nisus, whence,
Is this the fate of kings,
For arme on Scepter,
To be arm'd with wings?
Poore speckled bird, see how aspiring may
Degrade the high, and their estate betray.

Once Fortune made
Nisus her fauorite,
And rer'd his throne
To such vnbounded height,
That forreine states admir'd what he possest,
Till slie ambition nestled in his breast

Till then how blest,
And after see how base
His greatnesse fell,
When rest of Princely grace;
Those many fleering Parasites he gain'd,
In his successe, not one in want remain'd

Chesses he weares
Now on his downie feete,

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Where once guilt spurs,
With store of pearle set
Adorn'd his nimble heeles, and hooded now,
His beuer wants: this can ambition do.

Vp still he mounts,
And must a pleasure bring,
That once was king,
To meaner then a king;
Where he, who once had Falkners at command,
Is faine to picke his meate from Falkners hand.

Imperious fate,
What canst not thou effect,
When thou perceiues
In man a dis-respect
Vnto thy honour, which we instanc'd sed,
In no one Nisus better then in thee!

But stow bird stow,
See now the game's a foote,
And white-maild Nisus,
He is flying to't;
Scepter, Crowne, Throne & all that Princely were
Be now reduc'd to feathers in the ayre.

251

THE SWALLOW.

6. ODE.

You chatt'ring Fleere, you Faune, you sommer-friend,
Not following vs, but our successe,
Will this your flatt'ring humour nere haue end,
Of all other meritlesse?
Flie I say, flie, be gone,
Haunt not here to Albion:
She should be spotlesse, as imports her name,
But such as you are borne to do her shame.

How many faire protests and solemne vowes,
Can your hatefull consorts make,
Wheras (heauen knows these are but only shows
Which you do for profit-sake?
O then leaue our coast and vs,
Blemish'd by your foule abuse,
Vertue can haue no being, nor could euer,
Where th' Parasite is deem'd a happy liner.

Tale-tattling gossip, prone to carrie newes,
And such newes are euer worst,
Where false report finds matter, and renewes
Her itching humour till it burst,

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Where each euen finds tale's enough,
All the gloomie winter, through,
To passe the night away, and oft-times tries,
That truth gets friendship seldomer then lies.

Spring-time when flowers adorne the chearefull mede,
And each bird sings on her spray,
When flowry groues with blossoms checkered,
And each day seemes a marriage day,
Chattiring Swallow thou canst chuse.
Then a time to visit vs;
Such are these fained friends make much vpon vs,
When we are rich, but being poore they shun vs.

The stormie winter with his hoarie locks,
When each branch hangs downe his head,
And icie flawes candies the ragged rocks,
Making fields discoloured,
Driues thee from vs and our coast,
Where in spring-time thou repo'st;
Thus thou remaines with vs in our delight,
But in our discontent th' art out of sight.

Time-seruing humorist that faunes on Time,
And no merit doest respect,
Who will not loath that sees that vaine of thine,
Where deserts are in neglect,
And the good is priz'd no more
Then the ill, if he be poore?
Thou art the rich mans claw-backe, and depends
No more on men, then as their trencher-friends.

253

Go turne-taile go, we haue not here a Spring
For such temporizing mates,
Pan's in our Ile, and he scornes flattering;
So those Guardians of our States,
Who are early vp and late,
And of all, this vice doth hate:
Flie tell-tale, flie, and if thou wilt, complaine thee,
That Albyon's harsh and will not entertaine thee.

THE FALL OF THE LEAFE.

7. ODE.

Flora where's thy beauty now,
Thou was while'om wont to show?
Not a branch is to be seene,
Clad in Adons colour greene;
Lambkins now haue left their skipping,
Lawn-frequenting Fauns their tripping;
Earths bare breast feeles winters whipping,
And her brood the North-winds nipping.

Though the Boxe and Cypresse tree,
Weare their wonted liuerie,
And the little Robin scorne
To be danted with a storme,
Yet the Shepheard is not so,
When He cannot see for snow,
Nor the flocks which he doth owe,
And in drifts are buried low.

254

Nor the Grazer, discontent
That his fodder should be spent,
And when winter's scarce halfe-done,
All his stacks of hay are gone;
Nor the Lawyer, that is glad
When a motion's to be had,
Nor poore Tom, though he be mad;
“Cold makes Tom a Bedlam sad.

Nor the Webster, though his feete
By much motion get them heate,
Nor the knaue that curries leather,
Nor the cross-ledgg'd Taylor neither,
Nor at glass-worke, where they doubt
Left their costly fire go out,
Nor the carefull carking Lout,
That doth toyle and trudge about.

No, nor th' Ladie in her coach,
But is muff'd when frosts approach,
Nor the crazie Citizen,
But is furrd vp to the chin,
Oister-callet, slie Vpholster,
Hooking Huxster, merrie Malster,
Cutting Haxter, courting Roister,
Cunning Sharke, nor sharking foister.

Thus we see how Fall of th' leafe,
Adds to each condition griefe,
Onely two there be, whose wit
Make hereof of a benefit;
These, conclusions try on man,

255

“Surgeon and Physician,
While it happens now and than,
Kill then cure they sooner can!

Now's their time when trees are bare,
Naked scalps haue lost their haire,
Teeth drop out and leaue their gumms,
Head and eyes are full of rheumes,
Where if Traders strength do lacke,
Or feele aches in their backe,
Worse by odds then is the racke,
They haue drugs within their packe.

Thus the harshest seasons come
In good season vnto some,
Who haue knowne (as it is meete)
Smell of gaine makes labour sweet:
But where labour reapeth losse,
There accrews a double crosse;
First, fond cares his braine doth tosse,
Next, his gold resolues to drosse.

FINIS.

256

To my knowing and worthie esteemed friend Avgvstine Vincent, all meriting content.

May you be in
Your actions prosperous,
And as ingenious,
So victorious;
So may your fate,
Smile on your happie name,
And crowne you with,
A glorious Anagram:
While Vertue,
(Mans best lustre) seemes to be,
That style, which stamps
You deepe in Heraldrie.

257

BRITTANS BLISSE.

A Pean of thanksgiving for our long enioyed peace vnder a gracious Soueraigne.

Peace, Plentie, Pleasure,
Honour, Harbour, Health,
Peace, to encrease
In substance and in wealth;
Plentie, to praise,
Heauens Soueraigne the more,
Pleasure, to solace vs
Amidst our store,
Honour, to guerdon
Merit in our time,
Harbour, to fit
Each vnder his owne vine,
Health, to enioy
A blessing so deuine,
Deriu'd from Iesses roote
And Dauids line.

258

Health, Harbour, Honour,
Pleasure, Plentie, Peace,
Which from our Soueraigne
Haue their prime increase;
Health, to performe
Our distinct offices,
Harbour to shroud vs
From extremities,
Honour, to crowne
The temples of desert,
Pleasure, to cheare
The intellectuall part,
Plentie, to store
Our hopes with all successe,
Peace, to accomplish
Our full happinesse.

All which, by heauens hand powr'd on Albyon,
Make vp a Catalogue to looke vpon;
That for so many quiet Halcyon dayes,
Her precioust prize, might be her Makers praise.

Pacis, honoris, amoris, Edena Britannica nostri, Regeregente bono, leta trophæa gerit.

259

Vpon the worthie and sincere Proficients and Professants of the common Law; an Encomiastick Poem.

Law is the line,
Whose leuell is dispatch,
A lampe, whose light shewes
Iustice what is right,
A larke, whose vnseal'd eyes
Keepes early watch,
A loome, whose frame
Cannot be sway'd by might,
A list, where truth
Puts iniury to flight;
Streight line, bright lampe,
Sweete larke, strong loome, choice list,
Guide, shine, shield, guard,
And liue truths Martialist.

Law is the sterne,
Which steares the ship of state,
The glorious stem
Whence Iustice sciens spring,
The chearefull starre,
Which early shines and late,

260

The staffe, whose stay
Supports the languishing,
The streame, whose spring
Is euer cherishing;
Rare sterne, rich stem, cleare starre,
Firme staffe, pure streame,
Steere, cheare, direct, support,
Refresh the meane.

Blest then are you,
Who labour to redresse
The poore mans case,
And measure your contents
By shielding th' weake
From awfull mightinesse,
Like graue Professants,
Good Proficients,
Clozing with equitie
Your ioynt consents;
'Tis you, 'tis you,
Who in this blemishd time,
Send out your lights
While other starrs decline.

When Greece in glory flourish'd,
She did reare
Some Images neare
Iustice sacred throne,

261

Which to be lame and blind
Portrayed were,
As proper obiects
To be look'd vpon,
Implying what
In Iustice should be done;
Blind to distinguish
Friend or foe, and lame,
From taking bribes,
To staine Astræas name.

Cleare lights, pure lamps,
Rare stemms, rich streames of life,
Who shine, beame, spring,
And draine your christall course
From Iustice throne,
To coole the heate of strife,
By curbing aw with law,
With censure, force,
To chastise with restraint,
Cheare with remorse;
Long may you liue,
Since by your life you giue
Iustice new breath,
And make her euer liue.

Salus ciuitatis sita est in legibus.

262

[Danc'd are my Measures, now I must repose]

Danc'd are my Measures, now I must repose,
(Retire at least) and laugh at vertues foes,
Who let them frowne, fume, fret, this is my Mot,
My spirit's above their spite, I feare them not.