Pohetica Stromata or A Collection of Sundry Peices in Poetry: Drawne by the known and approued Hand of R. C. [i.e. Richard Corbett] |
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 | Pohetica Stromata |  |
7
TO Sr. THOMAS AILESBURY, upon occasion of the last BLAZING Starre.
My Brother, and much more had'st thou bin mine,Had'st thou in one rich present with a line
Inclos'd Sir. Francis, (for of all thy Store
No Guift could cost thee lesse or binde mee more)
Had'st thou (deare Churle) imparted his returne,
I should not with a tardy welcome burne,
But had let loose my ioy at him long since,
Which now will seeme but Studied Negligence,
But, I forgive thee; two things keep thee from it,
First such a friend to gaze on, then a Comet.
8
As you of Sion) as long-tayl'd as you.
Wee know allready how will stand the case
With Barnavelt, and Universall Grace;
Though Spayne deserves the whole Starr, if the fall
Be true of Lermas Duke, and Cardinall:
Marry, in Fraunce wee feare noe bloud, but wine;
Lesse danger's in her Sword, then in her Vine.
And thus wee leave the Leaguer comming over,
For our portents are wise, and end at Dover.
And though wee use noe forward censuring
Nor send our learned Proctors to the King;
Yet every morning, when the Starre doth rise,
There is no black for three howers in our Eyes:
But, like a Puritan Dreamer, to this light
All eyes turne upward, all are Zeale and White.
More, it is doubtfull too, this Prodigye
'Twill turne ten Schooles to one Astronomy;
For the Analysis wee iustly feare,
Since every Art doth seeke for rescue there:
Physitians, Lawyers, Glovers on the Stall,
9
And though wee read noe Gospell in the Signes,
Yet all Professions are turn'd Divines.
All weapons from the Bodkin to the Pike,
The Masons Rule, the Taylors Yard alike
Take Altitudes; and th' early Fidling Knaves
Of Fluites, and Hoe-boyes, make them Iacobs-staves.
Lastly, of fingers glasses wee contrive,
And every Fist is made a Perspective.
Burton to Gunter writes, and Burton heares
From Gunter, and exchaunge both tongue & eares
By carriage; thus Guy iniur'd doth complaine
His waggon in their letters beares Charles-waine;
Charles-waine, to which they say the tayle doth reach;
And at this distance they both heare & teach.
Now, for the peace of God and men, advise,
Thou; who hast wherewithall to make us wise,
By thy rich Studyes, and heroicke Minde,
10
O! tell us what to trust too; ere wee waxe
All stiffe and stupid with this Paralax.
Say, shall the old Philosophy be true?
Or doth' He ride above the Moone, thinke you?
Is hee a Meteor fixed by the Sunne?
Or a First Body by Creation?
Hath this same Starr bin obiect of the wonder
Of our Fore-fathers? shall the same come under
The sentence of our Nephewes? write and send,
Or else this Starr, a quarrell doth portend.
23
A NEW-YEARES GIFT, To my Lorde Duke of BUCKINGHAM.
When I can pay my Parents, or my King,For life, or peace, or any dearer thing:
Then, Dearest Lord, expect my debt to you
Shall bee as truly paid, as it is due.
But, as no other price, or recompence
Serves them, but love, and my obedience:
So nothing payes my Lord, but whats above
The reach of hands, 'tis Vertue, and my love.
“For, when as goodnesse doth so overflow,
“The conscience bindes not to restore, but owe:
Requitall were presumption; and you may
Call mee ungratefull, while I strive to pay.
Nor with a morall lesson doe I shift,
Like one that meant to save a better gift;
24
Who to preserve their Turky, or their hen,
Doe offer up themselves: No, I have sent
A kind of guift, will last by being spent,
Thankes Sterling: far above the Bullion rate
Of horses, hangings, iewells, or of plate.
O you that know the choosing of that One,
Know a true Diamond from a Bristow stone;
You know those men alwaies are not the best
In their intent, that lowdest can protest:
But that a Prayer from the Convocation,
Is better then the Commons Protestation.
Trust those that at the test their lives will lay,
And know no Arts, but to Deserve, and Pray:
Whilst they, that buy preferment without praying,
Begin with broyles, and finish with betraying.
25
UPON An Unhandsome GENTLEWOMAN, who made Love unto him.
Have I renounc't my faith, or basely sold
Salvation, and my loyalty for gold?
Have I some forreigne practice undertooke
By poyson, shott, sharp-knife, or sharper Booke
To kill my King? have I betrayd the State
To fire and fury, or some newer Fate,
Which learned Murderers, those Grand-Destinies,
The Jesuites, have nurc'd? if of all these
I guilty am, proceed; I am content
That Mallet take mee for my punishment.
For never sinne was of so high a rate,
But one nights hell with her might expiate.
Although the Law with Garnet, and the rest,
Dealt farr more mildly; hanging's but a iest
To this immortall torture. Had shee bin then
In Maryes torrid dayes engend'red, when
Cruelty was witty, and Invention free
Did live by blood, and thrive by crueltye,
Shee would have bin more horrid Engines farre
Then fire, or famine, racks, and halters are.
Whither her witt, forme, talke, smile, tire I name,
Each is a stock of tyranny, and shame;
But for her breath, Spectatours come not nigh,
That layes about; God blesse the Company.
The man, in a beares skin baited to death,
Would chose the doggs much rather then her breath;
One kisse of hers, and eighteene wordes alone
Put downe the Spanish Inquisition.
Thrice happy wee (quoth I thinking thereon)
That see no dayes of Persecution;
For were it free to kill, this grisly elfe
Would Martyrs make in compass of herselfe:
And were thee not prevented by our Prayer,
By this time shee corrupted had the Aire.
Salvation, and my loyalty for gold?
Have I some forreigne practice undertooke
By poyson, shott, sharp-knife, or sharper Booke
To kill my King? have I betrayd the State
To fire and fury, or some newer Fate,
Which learned Murderers, those Grand-Destinies,
The Jesuites, have nurc'd? if of all these
I guilty am, proceed; I am content
26
For never sinne was of so high a rate,
But one nights hell with her might expiate.
Although the Law with Garnet, and the rest,
Dealt farr more mildly; hanging's but a iest
To this immortall torture. Had shee bin then
In Maryes torrid dayes engend'red, when
Cruelty was witty, and Invention free
Did live by blood, and thrive by crueltye,
Shee would have bin more horrid Engines farre
Then fire, or famine, racks, and halters are.
Whither her witt, forme, talke, smile, tire I name,
Each is a stock of tyranny, and shame;
But for her breath, Spectatours come not nigh,
That layes about; God blesse the Company.
The man, in a beares skin baited to death,
Would chose the doggs much rather then her breath;
One kisse of hers, and eighteene wordes alone
Put downe the Spanish Inquisition.
27
That see no dayes of Persecution;
For were it free to kill, this grisly elfe
Would Martyrs make in compass of herselfe:
And were thee not prevented by our Prayer,
By this time shee corrupted had the Aire.
And am I innocent? and is it true,
That thing (which Poet Plinye never knew,
Nor Africk, Nile, nor ever Hackluyts eyes
Descry'd in all his East, West-voyages;
That thing, which Poets were afrayd to feigne,
For feare her shadowe should infect their braine;
This Spouse of Antichrist, and his alone,
Shee's drest so like the Whore of Babylon;)
Should doate on mee? as if they did contrive
The Devill and she, to damne a man a live.
Why doth not Welcome rather purchase her,
And beare about this rare Familiar.
Sixe Markett dayes, a wake, and a Fayre too't
Would save his charges, and the Ale to boot,
No Tyger's like her; shee feedes upon a man
Worse then a Tygresse, or a Leopard can.
Let mee go pray, and thinke upon some spell,
At once to bid the Devill and Her farwell.
That thing (which Poet Plinye never knew,
Nor Africk, Nile, nor ever Hackluyts eyes
Descry'd in all his East, West-voyages;
That thing, which Poets were afrayd to feigne,
For feare her shadowe should infect their braine;
This Spouse of Antichrist, and his alone,
Shee's drest so like the Whore of Babylon;)
Should doate on mee? as if they did contrive
The Devill and she, to damne a man a live.
Why doth not Welcome rather purchase her,
And beare about this rare Familiar.
Sixe Markett dayes, a wake, and a Fayre too't
Would save his charges, and the Ale to boot,
28
Worse then a Tygresse, or a Leopard can.
Let mee go pray, and thinke upon some spell,
At once to bid the Devill and Her farwell.
29
A CERTAINE POEME
As it was presented in Latine by Divines and Others, before his Maiestye in Cambridge, by way of enterlude, stiled, Liber novus de adventu Regis ad Cantabrigiam, faithfully done into English, with Some liberall additions.
It is not yet a fortnight, since
Lutetia entertain'd our Prince,
And vented hath a studyed Toy,
As long as was the siege of Troy:
And spent her selfe for full five dayes
In Speeches, Exercise, and Playes.
Lutetia entertain'd our Prince,
And vented hath a studyed Toy,
As long as was the siege of Troy:
And spent her selfe for full five dayes
In Speeches, Exercise, and Playes.
To trim the towne great care before
Was tane by th' Lord Vicechancellour,
Both morne and Even he cleans'd the way,
The streetes he gravell'd thrice a day:
One strike of march-dust for to see,
No Proverbe would give more then hee.
Was tane by th' Lord Vicechancellour,
Both morne and Even he cleans'd the way,
The streetes he gravell'd thrice a day:
One strike of march-dust for to see,
No Proverbe would give more then hee.
30
Their Colledges were new bepainted,
Their Founders eke, were new besainted,
Nothing escap't; nor post, nor doore,
Nor gate, nor rayle, nor bawde, nor whore:
You could not know, oh strange mishappe!
Whither you saw the Towne, or Mappe.
Their Founders eke, were new besainted,
Nothing escap't; nor post, nor doore,
Nor gate, nor rayle, nor bawde, nor whore:
You could not know, oh strange mishappe!
Whither you saw the Towne, or Mappe.
But the pure house of Emanuel
Would not be like proud Iesabel,
Nor shew her selfe before the King
An Hypocrite, or painted thing:
But, that the wayes might all prove faire,
Conceiv'd a tedious mile of Prayer.
Would not be like proud Iesabel,
Nor shew her selfe before the King
An Hypocrite, or painted thing:
But, that the wayes might all prove faire,
Conceiv'd a tedious mile of Prayer.
Upon the look't for Seventh of March
Out went the Townsmen all in starch,
Both Band and beard into the fielde;
Where one a Speech could hardly weeled:
For needes he would begin his stile,
The King being from him halfe a mile.
Out went the Townsmen all in starch,
Both Band and beard into the fielde;
Where one a Speech could hardly weeled:
For needes he would begin his stile,
The King being from him halfe a mile.
31
They gave the King a peece of Plate,
Which they hop'd neuer came too late;
But cry'd oh looke not in great King;
For there is in it iust nothing.
And so preferr'd, with tune and gate,
A Speech, as empty as their plate.
Which they hop'd neuer came too late;
But cry'd oh looke not in great King;
For there is in it iust nothing.
And so preferr'd, with tune and gate,
A Speech, as empty as their plate.
Now, as the King came neere the towne,
Each one ran crying up and downe,
Alas poore Oxford thou'rt undone
For now the King's past Trompington:
And rides upon his brave grey dapple,
Seeing the toppe of Kings-Colledge Chappell.
Each one ran crying up and downe,
Alas poore Oxford thou'rt undone
For now the King's past Trompington:
And rides upon his brave grey dapple,
Seeing the toppe of Kings-Colledge Chappell.
Next rode his Lordshipp on a Nagg,
Whose coat was blew, whose ruff was shagg,
And then began his Reverence
To speake most eloquent Non-sense:
See how (quoth he) most mighty Prince,
For very ioy my horse doth wince.
Whose coat was blew, whose ruff was shagg,
And then began his Reverence
To speake most eloquent Non-sense:
See how (quoth he) most mighty Prince,
For very ioy my horse doth wince.
32
What cryes the towne? what wee? (say'd hee)
What cryes the University?
What cry the boyes? what ev'ry thing?
Behold, behold. yo'n comes the King:
And ev'ry period he bedecks
With En & Ecce venit Rex.
What cryes the University?
What cry the boyes? what ev'ry thing?
Behold, behold. yo'n comes the King:
And ev'ry period he bedecks
With En & Ecce venit Rex.
Oft have I war'nd (quoth he) our durt
That no silke stockins should be hurt,
But, wee in vaine strive to be fine,
Unlesse your Graces Sun doth shine;
And, with the beames of your bright Eye,
You will be pleas'd our streetes to dry.
That no silke stockins should be hurt,
But, wee in vaine strive to be fine,
Unlesse your Graces Sun doth shine;
And, with the beames of your bright Eye,
You will be pleas'd our streetes to dry.
Now come wee to the wonderment
Of Christendome, and eke of Kent,
The Trinity; which, to surpasse,
Doth deck her spokesman by a glasse:
Who, clad in gay and silken weedes,
Thus opes his mouth, harke how he speedes.
Of Christendome, and eke of Kent,
The Trinity; which, to surpasse,
Doth deck her spokesman by a glasse:
Who, clad in gay and silken weedes,
Thus opes his mouth, harke how he speedes.
33
I wonder what your Grace doth here,
Who have expected beene twelue yeare;
And this your Sonne, faire Carolus,
That is soe Iacobissimus:
Here's none, of all, your Grace refuses,
You are most wellcome to our Muses.
Who have expected beene twelue yeare;
And this your Sonne, faire Carolus,
That is soe Iacobissimus:
Here's none, of all, your Grace refuses,
You are most wellcome to our Muses.
Although wee have noe bells to iangle,
Yet can wee shew a faire Quadrangle,
Which, though it ne're was grac't with King,
Yet sure it is a goodly thing.
My warning's short, noe more I'le say;
Soone you shall see a gallant play.
Yet can wee shew a faire Quadrangle,
Which, though it ne're was grac't with King,
Yet sure it is a goodly thing.
My warning's short, noe more I'le say;
Soone you shall see a gallant play.
But nothing was so much admir'd.
As were their Playes soe well attir'd,
Nothing did win more praise of mine
Then did their Actors most Divine:
So did they drinke their healths divinely,
So did they daunce, and skipp so finely.
As were their Playes soe well attir'd,
Nothing did win more praise of mine
Then did their Actors most Divine:
So did they drinke their healths divinely,
So did they daunce, and skipp so finely.
34
Their playes had sundry grave wise factors,
A perfect Diocesse of Actors;
Upon the stage for I am sure that
There was both Bishopp, Pastour, Curat:
Nor was their labour light, or small,
The charge of some, was Pastorall.
A perfect Diocesse of Actors;
Upon the stage for I am sure that
There was both Bishopp, Pastour, Curat:
Nor was their labour light, or small,
The charge of some, was Pastorall.
Our Playes were certainly much worse;
For they had a brave Hobby-horse,
Which did present unto his Grace
A wondrous witty ambling pace:
But wee were chiefly spoyld by that
Which was six howres of God knowes what.
For they had a brave Hobby-horse,
Which did present unto his Grace
A wondrous witty ambling pace:
But wee were chiefly spoyld by that
Which was six howres of God knowes what.
His Lordshipp then was in a rage,
His Lordshipp lay upon the stage,
His Lordshipp cryd all would bee marr'd,
His Lordshipp lou'd alife the Guard:
And did invite those mighty men,
To what thinke you? even to a hen.
His Lordshipp lay upon the stage,
His Lordshipp cryd all would bee marr'd,
His Lordshipp lou'd alife the Guard:
And did invite those mighty men,
To what thinke you? even to a hen.
35
Hee knew, he was to use their might
To helpe to keepe the doore at Night,
And well bestow'd he thought his hen,
That they might Tolebooth Oxford Men:
Hee thought it did become a Lord
To threaten with that Bugg-beare word.
To helpe to keepe the doore at Night,
And well bestow'd he thought his hen,
That they might Tolebooth Oxford Men:
Hee thought it did become a Lord
To threaten with that Bugg-beare word.
Now passe wee to the Civill Law,
And eke the Doctors of the Spaw,
Who all perform'd their parts soe well:
Sr. Edward Ratcliff bore the bell,
Who was, by the Kings owne appointment,
To speake of Spells, and Magick Ointment.
And eke the Doctors of the Spaw,
Who all perform'd their parts soe well:
Sr. Edward Ratcliff bore the bell,
Who was, by the Kings owne appointment,
To speake of Spells, and Magick Ointment.
The Doctors of the Civill Law
Urg'd ne'ere a reason worth a straw;
And, though they went in silk and satten,
They Thomson-like clipp't the King's latine;
But yet his Grace did pardon then
All treasons against Priscian,
Urg'd ne'ere a reason worth a straw;
And, though they went in silk and satten,
They Thomson-like clipp't the King's latine;
But yet his Grace did pardon then
All treasons against Priscian,
36
Here noe man spake ought to the point,
But all they sayd was out of ioynt;
Just like the Chappell ominous
In th' Colledge called God with us:
Which truly doth stand much awry,
Just North and South, yes verily.
But all they sayd was out of ioynt;
Just like the Chappell ominous
In th' Colledge called God with us:
Which truly doth stand much awry,
Just North and South, yes verily.
Philosophers did well their parts,
Which prov'd them Maisters of their Arts;
Their Moderatour was noe foole,
Hee farr from Cambridge kept a Schoole:
The Country did such store afford,
The Proctors might not speake a word.
Which prov'd them Maisters of their Arts;
Their Moderatour was noe foole,
Hee farr from Cambridge kept a Schoole:
The Country did such store afford,
The Proctors might not speake a word.
But to conclude, the King was pleas'd,
And of the Court the Towne was easd:
Yet Oxford though (deare Sister) harke yet,
The King is gon but to New-market,
And comes againe ere it be long;
Then you may make an other song.
And of the Court the Towne was easd:
Yet Oxford though (deare Sister) harke yet,
The King is gon but to New-market,
And comes againe ere it be long;
Then you may make an other song.
37
The King being gon from Trinity,
They make a scramble for Degree;
Maisters of all sorts, and all Ages,
Keepers, Subcizers, Lackeyes, Pages,
Who all did throng to come a board,
With pray make mee now, good my Lord.
They make a scramble for Degree;
Maisters of all sorts, and all Ages,
Keepers, Subcizers, Lackeyes, Pages,
Who all did throng to come a board,
With pray make mee now, good my Lord.
They prest his Lordshipp wondrous hard,
His Lordshipp then did want the Guard:
So did they throng him for the nonce,
Untill he blest them all at once,
And cry'd: Hodiissime':
Omnes Magistri estote.
His Lordshipp then did want the Guard:
So did they throng him for the nonce,
Untill he blest them all at once,
And cry'd: Hodiissime':
Omnes Magistri estote.
Nor is this all which wee doe sing,
For of your praise the world must ring.
Reader unto your tackling looke,
For there is comming forth a booke
Will spoile Ioseph Barnesius
The sale of Rex Platonicus.
For of your praise the world must ring.
Reader unto your tackling looke,
For there is comming forth a booke
Will spoile Ioseph Barnesius
The sale of Rex Platonicus.
67
TO THE NEW-BORNE PRINCE,
Upon the Apparition of a Starr, and the following Ecclypse.
Was Heav'ne afray'd to be out-done on EarthWhen Thou wert borne Great Prince, that it brought forth
Another light to helpe the aged Sunn,
Lest by Thy luster he might be Out-shone?
Or were th' obsequious Starres so ioy'd to view
Thee, that they thought their Countlesse Eyes to few
For such an obiect; and would needes create
A better Influence to attend thy State?
Or would the Fates thereby shew to the Earth
A Cæsars Birth, as once a Cæsars Death?
68
In so great hast to intercept the Sunn;
And enviously, so shee might gaine Thy sight,
Would darken him from whome shee had her light?
Mysterious prodigies yet sure they bee,
Prognosticks of a rare prosperity:
For can thy Life promise lesse good to men,
Whose Birth was th' Envy, and the Care of Heav'ne.
69
ON THE BIRTH OF THE YOUNG PRINCE CHARLES.
When private Men gett sonnes they get a spoone,Without Ecclypse, or any Starr at noone:
When Kings gett sonnes, they get withall supplyes
And succours, farr beyond all Subsedyes.
Wellcome Gods Loane, thou Tribute to the state,
Thou Mony newly coyn'd, thou Fleete of Plato;
Thrice happy Childe; whome God thy Father sent
To make him rich without a Parliament.
71
THE DISTRACTED PURITANE
Am I madd, o noble Festus,
When zeale and godly knowledge
Haue put mee in hope
To deale with the Pope,
As well as the best in the Colledge?
When zeale and godly knowledge
Haue put mee in hope
To deale with the Pope,
As well as the best in the Colledge?
Boldly I preach, hate a Crosse, hate a Surplice,
Miters, Copes, and Rotchets:
Come heare mee pray nine times a day,
And fill your heads with Crotchets.
Miters, Copes, and Rotchets:
Come heare mee pray nine times a day,
And fill your heads with Crotchets.
In the howse of pure Emanuel
I had my Education;
Where my friends surmise
I dazeld mine Eyes,
With the Light of Revelation.
I had my Education;
Where my friends surmise
I dazeld mine Eyes,
With the Light of Revelation.
Boldly I preach, &c.
72
They bound mee like a Bedlam,
They lash't my foure poore quarters;
Whilst this I endure
Faith makes mee sure
To be One of Foxes Martyrs.
They lash't my foure poore quarters;
Whilst this I endure
Faith makes mee sure
To be One of Foxes Martyrs.
Boldly I preach, &c.
These iniuryes I suffer
Through Anti-Christs perswasions:
Take of this Chaine,
Neither Rome nor Spaine
Can resist my strong invasions.
Through Anti-Christs perswasions:
Take of this Chaine,
Neither Rome nor Spaine
Can resist my strong invasions.
Boldly I preach, &c.
Of the Beasts ten hornes (God blesse us)
I haue knock't of three allready:
If they let mee alone,
I'le leaue him none;
But they say I am too heady.
I haue knock't of three allready:
If they let mee alone,
I'le leaue him none;
But they say I am too heady.
Boldly I preach, &c.
73
When I sack'd the Seaven-hilld Citty
I mett the great redd Dragon:
I kept him aloofe
With the armour of proofe,
Though here I haue never a rag on.
I mett the great redd Dragon:
I kept him aloofe
With the armour of proofe,
Though here I haue never a rag on.
Boldly I preach, &c.
With a fiery Sword and Targett
There fought I with this monster:
But the sonnes of pride
My zeale deride,
And all my deedes misconster.
There fought I with this monster:
But the sonnes of pride
My zeale deride,
And all my deedes misconster.
Boldly I preach, &c.
I unhorst the whore of Babel
With a Launce of Inspirations:
I made her stinke,
And spill her drinck
In the Cupp of Abominations.
With a Launce of Inspirations:
I made her stinke,
And spill her drinck
In the Cupp of Abominations.
Boldly I preach, &c.
74
I haue seene two in a Vision,
With a Flying Booke betweene them:
I haue bin in dispaire
Fiue times a yeare,
And cur'd by reading Greenham.
With a Flying Booke betweene them:
I haue bin in dispaire
Fiue times a yeare,
And cur'd by reading Greenham.
Boldly I preach, &c.
I observ'd in Perkins Tables
The black Lines of Damnation:
Those crooked veines
Soe struck in my braines,
That I fear'd my Reprobation
The black Lines of Damnation:
Those crooked veines
Soe struck in my braines,
That I fear'd my Reprobation
Boldly I preach, &c.
In the holy tongue of Chanaan
I plac'd my chiefest pleasure:
Till I prickt my foote
With an Hebrew roote,
That I bledd beyond all measure.
I plac'd my chiefest pleasure:
Till I prickt my foote
With an Hebrew roote,
That I bledd beyond all measure.
Boldly I preach, &c.
75
I appear'd before the Arch-Bishopp,
And all the high Commission:
I gaue him noe Grace,
But told him to his face
That he favour'd Superstition.
And all the high Commission:
I gaue him noe Grace,
But told him to his face
That he favour'd Superstition.
Boldly I preach, hate a Crosse, hate a Surplice,
Miters, Copes, and Rotchets:
Come heare mee pray nine times a day,
And fill your heads with Crotchets.
Miters, Copes, and Rotchets:
Come heare mee pray nine times a day,
And fill your heads with Crotchets.
77
UPON FAIREFORD WINDOWES.
Tell mee, you Anti-Saintes, why brasseWith you is shorter liv'd then glasse?
And why the Saintes haue scap't their falls
Better from Windowes, then from Walles?
Is it, because the Brethrens fires
Maintaine a Glass-house at Blackfryars?
Next which the Church stands North and South,
And East and West the Preachers mouth.
Or is't, because such painted ware
Resembles something that you are,
Soe py'de, soe seeming, soe unsound
In manners, and in doctrine, found,
That, out of Emblematick witt,
78
If it be soe, then Faireford boast
Thy Church hath kept, what all haue lost;
And is preserved from the bane
Of either warr, or Puritane:
Whose life is colour'd in thy paint,
The Inside drosse, the Outside Saint.
79
IN QUENDAM ANNIVERSARIORUM SCRIPTOREM.
Ter circum Iliacos raptaverat Hectora muros.
Even soe dead Hector thrice was triumph'd on
The Walls of Troy, thrice slaine when fate had done:
So did the barbarous Greekes before their Hoast
Torment his ashes, and profane his ghoast:
As Henryes vault, his Peace, his Sacred Hearse,
Are torne and batter'd by thine Anniverse.
Was't not enough Nature and strength were foes,
But thou must yearly murther him in Prose?
Or do'st thou thinke thy rauing phrase can make
A lowder Eccho then the Almanake?
Trust mee, November doth more ghastly looke
80
And sadder record their sixt figure beares,
Then thy false-printed and ambitious teares.
For were it not for Christmas, which is nigh,
When spice, fruit-eaten, and digested pye,
Call for wast paper; noe man could make shift,
How to imploy thy writings to his thrift.
Wherefore forbeare for pitty, or for shame,
And let some richer pen redeeme his fame
From rottennesse, Thou leaue him captive; since
Soe vile a Price ne're ransom'd such a Prince.
81
IN POETAM EXAUCTORATUM ET EMERITUM.
Nor is it griev'd (graue youth) the memoryOf such a Story, such a Booke as Hee,
That such a Coppy through the world were read,
Henry yet liues, Though he be buried.
It could be wish'd, that every Eye might beare
His eare good witnesse that he still were here;
That sorrow rul'd the yeare, and by that Sunne
Each man could tell you how the day had runne:
O 'twere an honest boast, for him could say,
I haue bin busy, and wept out the day
Remembring him. An Epitaph would last,
Were such a trophee, such a banner plac't
Upon His Coarse as this; Here a man lyes
Was slaine by Henryes dart, not Destinyes.
82
Though the whole languish't, halfe the commonweale,
But for a Cobler to goe burne his Capp,
And cry, the Prince, the Prince, ô dire mishappe!
Or a Geneva-bridegroome, after grace,
To throw his Spouse ith' fire; or scratch her face
To th' tune of th' lamentation; or delay
His Friday Capon till the Sabbath day:
Or an old Popish-Lady halfe vow-dead,
To fast away the day in Ginger-bread:
For him to write such Annalls; all these things
Doe open laughters, & shutt up griefes springs.
Tell mee, what iuster, or more congruous Peere,
Then Ale, to iudge of workes begott of Beere.
Wherefore forbeare or, if thou print the next,
Bring Better Notes, or take a Meaner Text.
83
ON CHRIST-CHURCH PLAY AT WOODSTOCK.
If wee, at Woodstock, haue not pleased those,Whose clamorous Iudgments lye in urging no'es,
And, for the want of whifflers, haue destroy'd
Th' Applause, which wee with vizards hadd enioy'd,
Wee are not sorry; for such witts as these
Libell our Windowes of'tner, then our Playes;
Or, if Their patience be moov'd, whose Lipps
Deserve the knowledge of the Proctorships,
Or iudge by houses, as their howses goe,
Not caring if their cause be good or noe;
Nor by desert, or fortune can be drawne
To credit us, for feare they loose their pawne;
Wee are not greatly sorry: but if any,
84
That dare speake truth even when their Head stands, by
Or when the Seniors spoone is in the pye;
Nor to commend the worthy will forbeare,
Though he of Cambridge, or of Christchurch were,
And not of his owne colledge; and willshame
To wrong the Person, for his Howse, or Name;
If any such be greiv'd, then downe proud spirit;
If not, know, Number never conquer'd Merit.
85
TO THE LADYES OF THE NEW DRESSE,
That weare their Gorgets & Rayles downe to their wastes.
Ladyes, that weare black cipress-vailesTurn'd lately to white linnen-rayles,
And to your girdle weare your bands,
And Shew your armes instead of hands;
What can you doe in Lent so meet,
As fittest dress, to weare a sheet?
T'was once a band, 'tis now a cloake,
An acorne one day proues an oke:
Weare but your linnen to your feet,
And then your band will proue a sheet.
86
You'l doe your penance in a dresse;
And none shall know, by what they see,
Which Lady's censur'd, & which free.
89
A POEME Upon TOM CORIATTS, Crudities;
in Commendation of the Author, and Worke.
I doe not wonder Coryate, that thou hast
Ouer the Alpes, through France & Sauoy past,
Parcht on thy Skinn, and fonndred in thy feete,
Fainte, Thirsty, Lowzy, & didst liue to see't.
Though these are Roman-sufferings, and doe showe,
What creatures back, thou hadst, could carry soe.
All I admyre is thy returne, and how
Thy Slender posterns could thee beare, when now
Thy observations whith thy braine engendered
Haue stuft thy massy & volluminous heade
Whith Mountaines, Abbyes, Churches, Synagogues,
Preputiall offals, & Dutch Dialogues:
A Burthen farr more grevious then the weight
Of Wyne or Sleepe, more vexinge then the freight
Of fruite & oysters, which lade many a Pate,
And send folkes crying home from Billingsgate;
Noe more shall man whith mortar on his head
Set forwards towards Rome: noe thou art bred
A terror to all footmen, And all Porters,
And all Lay-men that will turn Iews-exhorters,
To flye theire conquered trade proude England then.
Ouer the Alpes, through France & Sauoy past,
Parcht on thy Skinn, and fonndred in thy feete,
Fainte, Thirsty, Lowzy, & didst liue to see't.
Though these are Roman-sufferings, and doe showe,
What creatures back, thou hadst, could carry soe.
All I admyre is thy returne, and how
Thy Slender posterns could thee beare, when now
Thy observations whith thy braine engendered
Haue stuft thy massy & volluminous heade
Whith Mountaines, Abbyes, Churches, Synagogues,
Preputiall offals, & Dutch Dialogues:
A Burthen farr more grevious then the weight
90
Of fruite & oysters, which lade many a Pate,
And send folkes crying home from Billingsgate;
Noe more shall man whith mortar on his head
Set forwards towards Rome: noe thou art bred
A terror to all footmen, And all Porters,
And all Lay-men that will turn Iews-exhorters,
To flye theire conquered trade proude England then.
Embrace this
luggage which the man of men,
Hath landed heere & change thy Welladay
Into some home Spun: Wellcome Rounde lay;
Send of this stuffe, thy territoryes thorough
To Ireland, Wales, & Scottish Edenborough,
There let this booke bee read & understood,
Where is no Theam nor Writer, halfe soe good.
Hath landed heere & change thy Welladay
Into some home Spun: Wellcome Rounde lay;
Send of this stuffe, thy territoryes thorough
To Ireland, Wales, & Scottish Edenborough,
There let this booke bee read & understood,
Where is no Theam nor Writer, halfe soe good.
97
AN EXHORTATION
To Mr. John Hammon minister in the parish of Bewdly, for the battering downe of the Vanityes of the Gentiles, which are comprehended in a Maypole; written by a Zealous Brother from the Black-fryers.
The mighty Zeale which thou hast new put on,Neither by Prophet nor by Prophetts sonne
As yet prevented, doth transport mee so
Beyond my selfe, that, though I ne're could go
Farr in a verse, and all Rithmes haue defy'd
Since Hopkins, and old Thomas Sternhold dy'de,
Except it were that little paines I tooke
To please good people in a prayer-booke
That I' sett forth, or so) yet must I raise
My Spirit for thee, who shall in thy praise
Gird up her Loynes, and furiously run
98
Such is thy zeale, so well dost thou express it,
That, (wer't not like a Charme,) I'de say, Christ blesse it.
I needs must say 'tis a Spirituall, thing
To raile against a Bishopp, or the King;
Nor are they meane adventures wee haue bin in,
About the wearing of the Churches linnen;
But these were private quarrells: this doth fall
Within the Compass of the generall.
Whether it be a Pole painted, and wrought
Farr otherwise, then from the wood 'twas brought,
Whose head the Idoll-makers hand doth croppe,
Where a lew'd Bird, towring upon the topp,
Lookes like the Calfe at Horeb; at whose roote
The unyoak't youth doth exercise his foote;
Or whether it reserve his boughes, befreinded
By neighb'ring bushes, and by them attended:
How canst thou chuse but seeing it complaine,
That Baalls worship't in the Groves againe?
Tell mee how curst an egging, what a sting
99
The simple wretches say they meane no harme,
They doe not, surely; but their actions warme
Our purer blouds the more: for Sathan thus
Tempts us the more, that are more Righteous.
Oft hath a Brother most sincerely gon,
Stifled in Prayer and contemplation,
When lighting on the place where such repaire,
He viewes the Nimphes, and is quite out in's prayer.
Oft hath a Sister, grownded in the truth,
Seeing the iolly carriage of the youth,
Bin tempted to the way that's broad and bad;
And (wert not for our private pleasures) had
Renounc't her little ruffe, and goggle Eye,
And quitt her selfe of the? Fraternity.
What is the mirth, what is the melody
That setts them in this Gentiles vanity?
When in our Sinagogue wee rayle at sinne,
And tell men of the faults which they are in,
With hand and voice so following our theames,
100
Sounds not the Pulpett, which wee then be labour
Better, and holyer, then doth the Tabour?
Yet, such is unregenerate mans folly,
Hee loves the wicked noyse, and hates the Holy.
Routes, and wilde pleasures doe invite temptation,
And this is dangerous for our damnation;
Wee must not moue ourselves, but, if w'are mov'd,
Man is but man; and therefore those that lov'd
Still to seeme good, would evermore dispence
With their owne faults, so they gaue no offence.
If the times sweete entising, and the blood
That now begins to boyle, haue thought it good
To challenge Liberty and Recreation,
Let it be done in Holy contemplation:
Brothers and Sisters in the feilds may walke,
Beginning of the holy worde to talke,
Of David and Vriahs Lovely wife,
Of Thamar, and her lustfull Brothers strife;
Then, underneath the hedge that woes them next,
They may sitt downe, and there Act out the Text.
101
In Winter Sabbath-nights our lusty cheere;
And though the Pastors Grace, which oft doth hold
Halfe an howre long, make the provision cold,
Wee can be merry; thinking't nere the worse
To mend the matter at the second course.
Chapters are Read, and hymnes are sweetly sung,
Ioyntly commanded by the nose, and tongue;
Then on the worde wee diversly dilate,
Wrangling indeed for heat of zeale, not hate:
When at the length an unappeased doubt
Feircely comes in, and then the light goes out,
Darkness thus workes our peace, and wee containe
Our fyery spiritts till wee see againe.
Till then, no voice is heard, no tongue doth goe,
Except a tender Sister shreike, or so.
Such should be our Delights, grave and demure,
Not so abominable, not so impure
As those thou seek'st to hinder, but I feare
Satan will bee too strong; his kingdomes, here;
Few are the righteous now, nor do I know
102
Since our sincerest Patron is decea'st
The number of the Righteous is decreast.
But wee do hope these times will on, and breed
A Faction mighty for us; for indeede
Wee labour all, and every Sister ioynes
To haue Regenerate Babes spring from our Loynes:
Besides, what many carefully haue done,
Getting the unrighteous man, a righteous sonne.
Then stoutly on, let not thy Flock range lewdly
In their old Vanity, thou Lampe of Bewdly.
One thing I pray thee, do not too much thirst
After Idolatryes last Fall; but first
Follow this suite more close, let it not goe
Till it be thine as thou would'st haue't: for soe
Thy Successors, upon the same entayle,
Hereafter, may take up the Whittson-Ale.
103
AN ELEGY Upon the death of Queene ANNE.
Noe; not a quatch sad Poets; doubt you,
There's not greife enough without you?
Or that it will asswage ill newes,
To say, Shee's dead, that was your Muse?
Ioine not with Death to make these Times
More grievous, then most Grievous Rimes.
There's not greife enough without you?
Or that it will asswage ill newes,
To say, Shee's dead, that was your Muse?
Ioine not with Death to make these Times
More grievous, then most Grievous Rimes.
And if't be possible, Deare Eyes
The famous Universityes,
If both your Eyes bee Matches, Sleepe;
Or, if you will be Loyall, weepe:
For-beare the press, Theres none will looke
Before the Mart for a new booke.
The famous Universityes,
If both your Eyes bee Matches, Sleepe;
Or, if you will be Loyall, weepe:
For-beare the press, Theres none will looke
Before the Mart for a new booke.
104
Why should you tell the world what witts
Grow at New-parkes, or Campus-pitts?
Or what conceipts Youth, stumble on,
Taking the ayre towards Trumpington?
Nor you graue Tutours, who doe temper
Your Long and Short with Que and Semper;
O doe not, when your owne are done,
Make for my Ladyes eldest Sonne
Verses, which he will turne to Prose,
When he shall read what you compose.
Nor for an Epithite that failes,
Bite of your unpoëticke Nailes.
Uniust: why should you in these vaines,
Punish your Fingers for your Braines?
Grow at New-parkes, or Campus-pitts?
Or what conceipts Youth, stumble on,
Taking the ayre towards Trumpington?
Nor you graue Tutours, who doe temper
Your Long and Short with Que and Semper;
O doe not, when your owne are done,
Make for my Ladyes eldest Sonne
Verses, which he will turne to Prose,
When he shall read what you compose.
Nor for an Epithite that failes,
Bite of your unpoëticke Nailes.
Uniust: why should you in these vaines,
Punish your Fingers for your Braines?
Know henceforth, that griefes vitall part
Consists in Nature, not in Art:
And Verses that are Studied,
Mourne for themselves, not for the dead.
Consists in Nature, not in Art:
And Verses that are Studied,
Mourne for themselves, not for the dead.
Heark, the Queenes Epitaph shall bee,
Noe other then her Pedigree:
For lines in Bloud cutt out are stronger
Then lines in Marble, and last longer.
And such a verse shall never fade,
That is Begotten, and not made.
Noe other then her Pedigree:
For lines in Bloud cutt out are stronger
105
And such a verse shall never fade,
That is Begotten, and not made.
Her Father, Brother, Husband, Kinges;
Royall relations: from her springes
A Prince and Princesse; and from those
Faire certaintyes, and rich hope growes.
Here's Poetry shall be secure,
While Britaine, Denmarke Rheine endure:
Enough on Earth; what purchase higher,
Saue Heaven to perfect her desire.
And as a straying Starr intic't,
And governd those wise-men to Christ:
Ev'n soe a Herauld-Starr this yeare
Did Beckon to Her to appeare.
A Starr which did not to our Nation
Portend her Death, but her Translation:
For when such Harbingers are seene,
God crownes a Saint not kills a Queene.
Royall relations: from her springes
A Prince and Princesse; and from those
Faire certaintyes, and rich hope growes.
Here's Poetry shall be secure,
While Britaine, Denmarke Rheine endure:
Enough on Earth; what purchase higher,
Saue Heaven to perfect her desire.
And as a straying Starr intic't,
And governd those wise-men to Christ:
Ev'n soe a Herauld-Starr this yeare
Did Beckon to Her to appeare.
A Starr which did not to our Nation
Portend her Death, but her Translation:
For when such Harbingers are seene,
God crownes a Saint not kills a Queene.
113
ON THE LADY ARABELLA.
How doe I thanke thee Death, & blesse thy power,That I haue past the Guard, and scap'd the Tower:
And now my Pardon is my Epitaph,
And a small coffin my poore Carkasse hath.
For at thy charge both soule and body were
Enlarg'd at last, secur'd from hope and feare.
That amongst Saintes, this amongst Kings is lay'd,
And what my Birth did claime, my Death hath payd.
FINIS.
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