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[PHILOMYTHIE],

[OR, PHILOMYTHOLOGIE.]

A PRÆMONITION TO THE INTELLIGENT READER.

Lest hee finding his affection or opinion crost in the praise or dispraise of some particular, should thereby be drawn to reade or reiect the rest with Præiudice.

VVho safely in the streame would swim,
Must free from weeds keepe euery lym;
Lest slaue vnto himselfe he grow,
And vulgar humour drawes him low;
Or ventring in the deeps (too weake),
Opinions windie bladder breake.
“We ought both in our selues and friends,
“To hate all acts with doubtfull ends;
“And loue euen in our foes the good
“Which may be seuer'd from their blood.

And if the times mislead vs so,
To sooth those sinnes we would not do;
At least (like free-men) let vs thinke
What's good and bad, although we winke.
To this free nature if you finde
These busie papers much inclinde;
Yet pardon them, and iudge aright,
A free-man (not a slaue) did write.
Reade for your pleasure, close the Booke,
On th'innocent outside all may looke.
Th'intelligent within may prie:
But barre th'Intelligencers eye.
Thomas Scot.

SARCASMOS MVNDO:

OR, The Frontispice explaned.

How apt is Man to erre? Antiquitie
Thinks it sees right, and yet sees all awry.
Our sight is impotent, the helpe we haue
By Art-full spectacles, doth much depraue
The truth of obiects; And tradition saith
Bookes vse to lye, And Bookes deny her faith.
Ecclipses of the Sunne were wonders thought,
Till sage Milesius the cause out-sought.
And man had not the wit to make a doubt
Of halfe the world, till fortune found it out.
But what this Age hath seene, makes that seeme truth
The laughing wiseman wrote, which made the youth
Shed teares to reade it; that more worlds remaine
Still vndiscouer'd then are yet made plaine.
Deepe diuing Paracelsus findes the ground
With minerals and mettals to abound;
More proper for our humors then the weedes,
Hearbs, plants, & flowers, which spring from weaker seeds.
This earth we liue on and do stedfast call,
Copernicus proues giddy-brainde, and all

Those other bodies whose swift motions we
So wonder at, he setled finds to be.
Till sanctifi'd Ignatius and his brood
Found out the lawfull way of shedding blood,
And prou'd it plainly that a subiect might
Murther his Prince we fondly vsde t'indite
Such persons of high treason: Now before them
We kneele, we pray, we worship and adore them.
For with their merits now w'are more acquainted
And know for zealous Patriots they are saincted.
His power that doth it, till of late we doubted
But now who questions it to death are flouted.
Then let what I propound no wonder seeme,
Though doting age new truthes do dis-esteeme,
For time may make it plaine, and reason too
May beare it out, though sure with much adoe.
Causes foregoe effects by course of kinde,
Yet first th'effect and then the cause we finde.
And so much I do here, propound the thing,
But stronger reason after-times may bring.
Attend my Doctrine then. I say this Earth
On which we tread, from whence we take our birth,
Is not, as some haue thought proportion'd round,
And Globe-like with such zones, and girdles bound,
As Poets or (more lyers) Trauellers say,
But shap'd awry, and lookes another way.
It is a monstrous Creature like a Man,
Thrust altogether on a heape, we can
Distinguish no part, goggle eyes, wide mouth,
Eares that reach both the poles from north to south,
Crump-shouldred, breast, & back, & thighs together,
The legs and feet all one, if it hath either.

In breefe it is the greatest Master Deuill
Throwne downe from heauen, in whose wombe euery euill
Is radically fixt, and from thence springs
Infusing natiue euill, in all such things
As it doth breed and nourish. The place of Hell
Is in his wombe, there lesser deuils dwell.
And when he stirres a limme, or breaketh winde,
We call't an earth-quake, and the danger finde.
Kings, Emperours, and mighty men that tread
In highest state, are lyce vpon his head.
The Pope and all his traine are skipping fleas
That know no bounds, but leape lands-law and seas,
The rest are nits or body-lyce, that craule
Out of his sweat, such vermin are we all.
From heauen this monster fell, and now doth lye
Bruzde with the fall, past all recouery.
Neither aliue, nor dead, nor whole, nor sound,
Sinking, and swimming, in a sea profound
Of sinne, and punishment, of paine, and terror,
Of learned ignorance, and knowing error.
No wonder then, that we who liue and dye
On cursed earth, do all things thus awry,
Being monstrous in our manners, and our minds,
And mixing in the lust-full change of kinds.
That we are full of passions, doubts, and feares,
And daily fall together by the eares.
No wonder that the Clergie would be Kings,
Kings Church-men; Lords and Ladies equall things;
So like in painting, spotting, starching, all,
That Ladies Lords, and Lords we Madams call.
For euen as Hares change shape and sex, some say
Once euery yeare; these whores do euery day,

So that Hirquittall and his wife were waken
By Succubus and Incubus, mistaken.
No wonder that Diuines the Parasites play
In ieast and earnest; Actors euery way.
No wonder that some theeues doe Lawyers proue,
Since all these euils by course of nature moue,
So farre; that it is question'd 'mongst the wise
Which now is vertue, and which now is vice.
Two Crookbacks (not the third Dick Gloster, hight,
We will haue none of him, for he would fight)
Debate this question, each assumes his part.
Æsope for vertue stands, and all his art,
Is to instruct the world to leaue the sinne,
And folly, which it lyes incompast in;
Weeps to behold it circled so with vices,
Whose serpentine and poysond sting, intices
To fading pleasure, and to deadly paine,
By vse soone caught, but hardly left againe.
He wries his necke at earth; but 'tis to see
How out of order euery part will bee.
He wills each Reader if my tales be darke,
To iudge the best, the morall still to marke.
And where they finde a doubtfull meaning, there
To hold an eu'n course, and with compasse stere.
But where strict rigor might inforce a doubt,
T'incline to fauour, and to helpe me out.
On th'other side doth learned Tortus stand
Concomitant, and beares the world in hand
That Æsope and some Stigmaticks beside,
(In shape and wit) did call well-fauour'd Pride
A vice, because themselues were so deform'd,
At euery pleasure they with malice storm'd;

But wiser much, he doth with better face,
With equall wit, worth, knowledge (but lesse grace)
Confront such fond assertions, lookes awry
On all the world of vertue, giues the lye
To iudgement, and with crooked minde and backe
(Thirsites-like) vnloades this learned packe.
He teacheth first that Æsope was a slaue,
“But Man's free borne, and freedome ought to haue,
“To worke his owne good pleasure, fayre content;
“Who liues not thus, hath his whole life mis-spent.
This rule he followes, and laies violent hands
On all; that his pride, lust, and will, with-stands.
Calls his affection reason; his desire
And appetite, sets all his world on fire.
His childe, his wife, his neighbour, or his friend,
Is for his pleasure lou'd; without that end
No King, no great Lord, can forget so soone,
And slight desert; as he hath often done.
Bastards are true legitimates, he saith:
And enemies then friends, haue far more faith.
His neighbors are most strangers, and before
A modest wife, he likes a shamelesse whore.
For many whores (he saith) he often kept
Without disturbance; but one night, hauing slept
In twenty yeares with his true wife, th'assault
Of many Sumners did correct the fault.
What we terme cowardice, he doth valure call,
And in that valure he exceedeth all.
An oyster-wife once beat him; brauely hee
Bore all her blowes, but wanted heart to flee.
He will on Sundaies with an Abbot dine,
On Frydaies, with a brother Libertine.

And euery day drinke health's vp to the eye:
He treads not right vnlesse he treads awry.
The Maa of sinne himselfe, is not more free
In doing all forbidden sinnes then hee.
For what he speakes or teacheth, writes or reads,
Only speaks pleasure, and to pleasure leads.
Had Nero's froward Tutor (too precise)
Been like our Philosarchus, pleasure wise,
And pliant to all humors but the good,
He had with surfets dyd'e, not lacke of blood.
Learn'd Aretine he reads, and can expound
His modest pictures with a touch profound.
That part is his of euery tongue, and arte,
Which stricter Idiots tremble at, and starte
To heare recited. This, this man is hee
Who on the forefront you with Æsope see.
Æsope that lookes awry on all mens vice;
But this on vertue casteth scornefull eyes.
Æsope makes birds, beasts, fishes, speake and liue
As if their liues should Man example giue
To practise vertue. This (with apt beheasts)
Doth teach all men how to become like beasts.
And saith, whose life these creatures most resemble
Comes neerest truth, and so doth least dissemble.
That Nature is the best guide, if we please
To follow her, then we must follow these.
For these obserue her rules, and are not spoyl'd
By arte, nor haue their able organs foyl'd
With abstinence and lacke of vse, but still
Directed are by appetite and will.
In Kings he would no other vertue see
Then what in Lyons, and in Eagles bee:

To prey on all, to make their will a law,
To tyrannize, to rule by force and awe,
To feare no higher powers, to do no good,
But liue to glut themselues with guiltlesse blood.
Courtiers he would haue fashion'd like to apes,
So fond their gestures, so deformde their shapes:
So full of idle imitation found,
That scorne in them, our stages might confound.
That they should starch & paint white, red, blew, yellow
And then all blacke, that other fooles might follow.
Diuines of Owles he would haue learne to shrieke,
As if they hated all the world did like;
But hauing got a tree and Iuy bush,
He then would haue them mute, and dumbe, and hush,
To serue all purposes, to hate the light,
And prooue right Blackbirds, children of the night.
Men that want wit, yet haue great place in State,
He would haue like to Parrots, learne to prate
Of others, till with Almonds they were fed.
The rest like Foxes he would still haue bred
Close, craftie, indirect, to get by stealth
The goods both of the Church and Common-wealth.
All subiects and inferiors he would haue
Themselues like Geese, and Asses to behaue.
Rich men and Usurers to swallow all
Directed by the Dolphine, and the Whale.
All men like Dogs to flatter, and to bite,
And misinterpret what we speake or write.
He wills all those that on my payers looke,
To make each line a libell in my booke:
To poyson with their eyes whats'ere they see,
And make themselues sport, and make worke for me.

Not to beleeue the morall, but to seeke
Another meaning whatsoe're they like,
And call it mine; and sweare I meant the same,
Although I would not persons plainly name.
And then he wils them laugh to seeke the ieast.
“Anothers mischiefe, makes a merry feast.
This Doctor is our Ages guide and Tutor,
The world his Schoole, the flesh his Coadiutor.
No wonder then if we liue all awry,
When on our Master we cast steady eye.
For Alexanders necke can teach vs this,
“The Schoole and Court by greatnes fashion'd is.
Thus our great Masters crookednesse is spide
In vs his followers, who no good parts hide
That he hath learn'd vs, but proclaime aloud
The cause which makes our vertuous Tutor proud.
If any seeke his name, and list to come
To schoole, enquire for Murus & Antrum.

A SVPPLY OF THE description of Monsier Pandorsvs Waldolynnatvs, that merry American Philosopher, or the Wiseman of the New World; being Antipode to Æsop, placed with him as parallel in the front. Done according to the simple truth of his owne naked deliuery.

And dedicated to Thomas Thvrsby Esquire, no lesse fit to be publicke, then desirous of retirement and priuacie.

Yov shun all office, though your state and wit
With long experience makes you truly fit;
Wherefore Pandorsus wils me pricke you heere
Shriefe in my booke, who might be in the Sheere.
As the East and West are opposite, so stand
These Wise-men in the front on either hand.
Æsope well known an Easterne witty thing:
But our Pandorsus Westerne fame I sing;
Whose picture in the Front, whose markes before,
Behinde, within, without, I late did score;
Yet lest that picture, nor these markes, should make
His worth enough apparant, briefely take

His life anatomiz'de, but chiefly where
It may our sucklings with example rere.
The lines are drawne euen by his owne true light,
From partiall flattery free, and enuious spight.
Within that Sqiere where Hyndes with dumplings fed,
Beget best Lawyers, was Pandorsus bread:
But for his Parents were of better ranke,
And in a Coaste Towne dwelt, they Clarret dranke,
And wrie-mouth'd Plaice, brets, butts, and soles did eate,
And crooked Crabs, with such prodigious meate.
Thus for a wonder they prepar'd in feeding:
And such he prou'd, who from that roote had breeding.
Though no Pandora yet Pandorsus he,
For vice as famous, as for vertue shee.
Each God gaue her a grace, and gaue so much
As more then Momus thought there was no such.
But what to her they gaue, from him they tooke,
And now in vaine for grace in earth we looke.
Looke for effects according to the cause:
“Our childrens faults are moulded in our mawes.
This salt-fresh-water-daintie diet fed
The parts concupiscible, and there bred
An itching humor, whence extracted was
This quintessence of contraries, this masse
Of Natures shreds and parcels, who partakes
A part of all, which imperfection makes.
A Foxes braines, knowing much wrong, no right;
Gote-bearded, sweete-fac'd, like a Catamite;
Toung'de Lawyer-like, all terme without vacation;
A Baboones loynes, desiring occupation;
Crumpe-Cammell-shoulder'd, neckt as straight as lynx,
One eye like to a Molls, t'other like Lynx;

A Lyons stomack; not to fight but feede;
A Hare in heart, and yet a Snaile inspeede.
This is the man whom we Pandorsus call.
Whose armes or Rebus thus we blasen shall.
Vpon a stately wall Saint George doth ride
(Wanting a horse) in pompe and armed pride;
Beneath there is a Den, in that the Dragon.
This tells his name, whose worthy parts we brag on.
It is his owne deuice, let all men know:
So is the rest which we in order show.
His Mothers Husband (who reputed was
His Father) being rich and well to passe,
A wealthy Merchant and an Alderman,
On forraigne shores did trauell now and than:
The whilst a Gallant Souldier, new come forth
From warre begot this man of mickle worth.
This gallant Souldier, then from Belgia brought
A wondrous Mandrake (with much perill bought)
Sprung (though some thinke it fabulous) from seed
The gallowes drop (for so this roote doth breed,)
Which whilst his mother did in pleasure eye,
Our Mounsiers shape, she did conceiue thereby.
Much like that Mandrake, writhen, turning round,
As from the gallowes he had dropt to ground.
And let no doubtfull Reader much admire,
A Myrmidon should be Pandorsus Syre,
For as there's none with vs get brauer men
Then Lawyers, or the tender Citizen,
So none more cowards get, then those which are
Our brauest Spirits, most renownde in warre.
The cause I know not, or I list not tell,
But so it often falles, and heere so fell.

None bolder then Pandorsus Syre, then he
None fearefuller; and yet he needs would be
A Souldier, where the Muster-booke he fild,
But fought with none, nor ne're saw any kild.
Artemon was more hardy though afraid
Of his owne shadow. Wagers haue beene laid,
That let an enemie fart, he would out-run
An Irishman, for feare t'had been a gun.
Where learned Spencer maketh harna'st Feare
Afraid the clashing of his armes to heare,
That apprehension he from hence did gaine,
Our Monsieur did, what Spencer did but faine.
But stay, I haue forgot to let you know
His education, and to shew you how
(Being nusled vp in Letters) he in sport
His time wore out at Schoole and Innes of Court,
Yet so as once a Gipsie, who did looke
Vpon his Palme, said he, should liue by's booke;
Which fortune some conceiue hath doubtfull scope,
As if his booke should saue him from the rope:
But since he proues, it meant another thing,
That teaching Tongues, he should liue like a King;
And so he now doth, liuing as he lust,
And by his owne will measuring what is iust.
For being set to Schoole when he was young,
He of all knowledge learn'd both taile and tongue.
Th' Italian, Latin, Spanish and the French,
He grew as cunning in, as at a Wench.
A Dictionary of all words of Art,
And Lullies old-ends, he hath got by heart.
Th'apparrell of all knowledge he doth weare,
And 'bout him (Bias-like) his wealth doth beare.

And now (growne ripe) he doth religion choose
That's most in fashion, as our great ones vse:
But otherwise for truth hee'le neuer burne,
Th'aduantage of his wry-necke helps him turne:
He knowes the way, and wills the world ne're doubt,
That comming raw in, hee'le go rosted out.
In youth he tooke to Wife a louely Dame,
Not hight the chast Penelope by name;
But worthy such an attribute, for shee
Her wandring loose Vlisses did not see
In twenty yeeres, and yet t'is thought her bed
Shee kept vnstain'd, and vn-ad-horn'd his head.
But what a blessing was, he thought a curse,
His wife had better beene, had shee been worse,
Her goodnesse made him hate her; she had dide
But that a dozen must be kil'd beside.
He knew not then (as I haue heard him say)
Th'Italian tricke, but the plaine English way,
Of simple Country poysoning, now he knowes
To do't by inches; Court perfection growes.
Lopus and Squire, are not so skill'd as hee,
And scarce Romes Conclaue in that mysterie.
He can a Nullitie worke, diuorce the life
Twixt soule and body, sooner then some wife.
And if his ricke be knowne, men ne're will seeke
A doubtfull way by law, but do the like.
His wife thus scap'd a scouring, so did he,
When being merry once in company
And passing Smith-field (then vnpau'd) too late
With rich Canary hauing linde his pate,
The owle-eyde Sharkers spi'd him, how he felt
To finde a post; his meaning soone they smelt:

And then the sturdiest knaue, with sodain'd rush,
Our wauering Monsieur on his knees did push,
The whil'st another kindly to him spoke;
Help't him out of the durt, and chang'd his cloke.
This cloke he wore next day, and passing by
A Brokers shop, the prentice lowde gan cry
Sirs stop the theefe, the cloake this fellow weares
Is mine: with that they swarm'd about his eares,
Conuayde him to a Iustice, where one swore
He had been branded stigmaticke before.
Another said, he was the man that hung
Three dayes beyond Seas, as the ballad sung;
The cause why he his necke awry, did hold,
Was for he hang'd long, and was ta'ne downe cold
But to the Iustice being throughly knowne,
For carrying letters where't must not be showne,
And for his skill, each moderne language speaking,
And wondrous Art, to silence doores from squeaking,
With losse of his good cloke, he slipt the hooke,
And thus he once was saued by his booke.
Thus farre I stretch my lines, thus farre he liues,
And more I'le write, when he direction giues.
But if I die, these lines shall be the glasse
His worth to shew, and how I thankfull was.

To the ouer-wise, ouer-wilfull, ouer-curious, or ouer-captious Readers.

I faine would tell some Tales, but I'de be loth,
To haue men be so wise to thinke them troth.
This is a wondrous witty age that sees
Beyond the truth of things, forty degrees,
Each Riddle now hath Poyson in't; each Rime
On the blancke Almanak, points at guilty time.
Æsope must mak no Lyons roare, nor Eagles
Shrike loude, nor wolues rauin, nor swift Beagles
Yelpe with their slauering lips after the Foxe,
Nor must he meddle with the Asse, or Oxe,
For feare some querke be found, to proue he ment
Under those shapes, a priuate spleene to vent
Against wise vigilant Statists, who like Ianus,
Looke both waies squint, and both waies guard and saue vs.
Or that he closely would great Lawyers yerke,
Who build their neasts, with ruines of the kirke:
Or that he toucht some Church-man, who to rise
One Steeples height, would tell Canonicall lies.
The Ghost of Virgils Gnat would now sting so,
That great men durst not in the City go
For feare of petty-Chapmen, with a Serieant,
And a sly Yeoman, noted in the Margeant.
If Spencer now were liuing, to report
His Mother Hubberts tale, there would be sport:

To see him in a blanket tost, and mounted
Vp to the starres, and yet no starre accounted.
I dare not for my life in all my tale,
Vse any English Bird, Beast, worme, or Snaile,
Or fish that in the narrow Seaes do trauell,
(Although each Pyrat dares) lest some should cauell,
And finde it did belong in times of yore
To some blew sleeeue, (but shall do so no more)
Or that the Maker of new blood, the Marrold,
(Cleped in our welch-Scotch and English Harrold)
Had (too too cheape) for fiue pounds it entailed
On some bold Britaine, and by warrant nailed,
To him and to his house, and double voucher,
Fine, and recouery; and then who dare touch her?
Not I, I loue my ease too well, my money,
My eares, my liberty; he longs for hony,
That mongst the angry Whaspes thrusts his bold fingers,
And from their neasts in Summer, hunts those stingers.
My valour is lesse hardy, my desire
Lesse hot Ile blesse and blow, not kisse the fire.
Therefore auant all catholike Locusts, come
Into my tale nothing one this side Rome,
Nor in Virginia, though't be ours by lot,
And yet perhaps it may, perchaunc't maynot.
I would not, if it lay in me to chuse,
Meddle with any thing we Christians vse:
But would all dealing with our owne eschew,
If other world, and elements I knew.
But since that Nature doth some gifts disperse
Alike to all within the Vniuerse;
And in a cicular globe, tye those to these;
Mixt vs in common with th' Antipodes:

I cannot choose but do as nature doth,
Mixe many names and things well knowne to both.
Thus if by chance I vse Bird, Fish, or beast,
Which is no daintie at a Mayors feast:
But oft familiar food for euery Swaine,
That in our Countrey, Coast, and Wood remaine.
Yet still conceiue (I pray) those names I take
Not properly, but for your ignorance sake.
Or if they proper be, of all one kinde,
Yet difference in their place of birth we finde.
And in their natures. For though man be man,
Yet sure an Jndian is no English man,
And so an Indian Asse, or Daw, or Trout,
Though we haue such, are none of ours no doubt:
But would we wonder here, and purses picke,
Since none but trauellers euer say the like.
Excuse me then though with such names you meete:
They are not those that trauell in our streete,
But forreiners to vs and to our Nation,
Except by trade, commerce, or transplantation
Made our acquaintance. Hence thou subtile spies
Streach out my tailes to iustifie your lies.
If ought beside the morall you inuent,
Call it your owne, By me 'twas neuer ment.
My tale shall sort all Atheists well, and be
Of their religion, heathenish and free.
It shall make lust a Gospell and a Law,
(Not for the truth) but to keepe fooles in awe,
That when our Gospell or else Law doth thwart
Our willes, we then may neither reck a f---.
Come Ibis, Lead the way; eat one snake more
And by my fury; vsher on before

1. IBIS.

Dedicated To the religious Knight Sr Edmvnd Mondeford, and his Lady a true louer of LEARNING.

Knowledge and Grace, are antidotes to you,
Who killing Serpents, do not Serpents grow.
Egypt opprest with Serpents, either growing
From slimie NILVS fruitfull ouerflowing,
Or from the enuious bankes of Tyber sent
To tell what farther harme the Romans ment:
Or by the foggy Southern winds brought o're
From sandy Lybia to this fertile shore:
Made Ibis Keeper of their liues and states,
VVho like a watchfull Porter, kept the gates
VVhere this infected Crue did vse to enter:
And (as they came in poysoned troopes) did venter
Manger their sting, and teeth, and venome too,
To swallow th' enuious Aspes with small adoe.

So long shefed, that Egypt now seem'd free,
And scarce a Serpent in the land could see.
“But ouer-feeding hurts, as some men say,
“Though food be good: then surfet soone we may
“By poysoned bits. And Ibis found it true.
So that her glutted gorge shee's forc't to spue;
The noysome stinke where of infected more
Then by these Serpents had bin stung before,
And Ibis selfe (corrupted with the food)
Grew Serpentine, and did more harme then good,
Shee keeps no entrance now, but lets them passe,
And of their faction, and their treason, was
A cunning aider, and a close contriuer;
Al-gate Shee seem'd a diligent, faithfull, diuer
Into their darker holes to search them out:
But truth it was to put them out of doubt,
That Shee their friend, they need not feare a foe,
But might at pleasure through the kingdome goe,
VVhilst all neglected their increase, supposing,
Ibis their trusty warden, had been closing
The lands strong Ports, with skill to keepe these in,
And others out, till all had eaten bin.
But she had other aimes, and vnder hand,
Plac'd Cockatrices all about the land:
And such as these (who kin to serpents were)
Did she make Captains, and to place preferre
Of chiefe command in warre: with hope to bring,
The Basiliske to be th'Egyptian king;
The Basiliske that at the head of Nile,
VVith deadly poyson doth the spring defile.
Thus Ibis faild them, and betraide their trust,
And now or die themselues, or kill they must.

And scarce was't in their choice. Such quick increase
“Hath bad things more then good, in time of peace.
Yet the Egyptians from securer sleepe,
Of foolish pitty, and remisnesse deepe,
Or fond credulity, and easie faith,
At last awak't, whats'euer Ibis faith,
Suspects of fraud, of double-meaning, doubt,
And with quicke search do finde the treason out.
Which Ibis seeing to be past preuention,
Past skill to cloke and couer with inuention:
With malice, enuie, feare, and horror swelling,
And other poyson in her bosome dwelling,
Shee burst asunder, and preuents the paine
Her crime deseru'd, but not the shame and staine:
That the Egyptians left for after times,
To reade and wonder at in these few times.
“Whom nature made good, custome made vniust;
We trusted Ibis, but shee faild our trust.
Let Reason rule, and Reason thus exhorts,
“Make not your will wardon of your Cinque Ports.

2. Uenaticum Jter.

Dedicated To the example of Temperance, Sr Henry Bedingfeild Knight, and to his Lady the example of Loue.

You hunting loue, your fields are spread with sheepe,
Looke that your hounds, your folds from foxes keepe.
Foxes and Wolues in sheepskins range about:
Within opinions; Parasites without.
Th' Egyptian Shepheard arm'd at all assayes
With Dogs and Sheephookes, sat vpon the Layes,
At pleasure piping many a learned sonnet
Of fixed starres, and each course-keeping plannet:
Of thunder, lightning, meteors, and the cause
Of changing kingdomes, and translating lawes:
Why pestilence did rage, why good men die,
Why Nilus ouerflowes the bankes so hie,
Why killing frosts, and such aboundant snow,
That ruine falling, ruine as they thaw:
Why th'earth should barren be, and famine breede
In the fat soile, though sowne with better seede.

Why water, ayre, the earth, and cheerefull fire
Should (being made for man) gainst man conspire,
And of themselues (by nature neuer bidden,)
Bring forth such crosse effects, vnheard and hidden,
To plague poore man, and liuing him t'intombe
In his one ruines, e're the day of doome.
The cause of this, they wisely found to be
Mans open sins, and close Hypocrisie.
And of this Theame discoursing too and fro,
Prouing it was, wishing it were not so.
The King came by, and with him many Nobles,
Whose pestred traine the sheep and shephead troubles.
Poore Country, thou find'st this in corne and cattle,
When most remote frō Court, thou most dost battle
The King a hunting rides; the shepheards dogs
Would needs a hunting too, and onward iogs
These iolly Currs: the Shepheards whoope amaine,
Hollow and whistle too, but all in vaine.
The Hunts-men rate, and like to mad men ride;
The Currs suppose they cheere them when they chide:
So on they go, and doe as others doo,
Throw vp their curld tailes, spend their wesands too,
And when thy cannot top the rest, run after
So long, till anger now is turn'd to lafter;
And now the King delights the Currs to heare.
For they are euer busie in his eare;
And comming home to trencher-food they fall,
Prouing good blood-hounds some, good harriers all.
They can draw dry-foot to the harmlesse game,
Whil'st Wolues and Foxes passe their noses tame.
Thus fed by fat sweet bones, they all proue gluttons,
And where they wont to guard, now kill our muttons,

They learned haue Court lore, and nothing failes;
Can fawne and flatter, nimbly wag their tailes;
And snarle, and bite, and beat the better hound
Out of the Court, who their false hunting found.
And now the time drawes on, the King againe
Rides out to hunt, and with him all his traine.
These dogs are fore-most, and pursue the chace
With eager stomackes and with equall pace.
But being trencher-fed, the weather hot,
Themselu's vnbreath'd, to hunting vsed not,
They soone are shaken off, and waxing slacke
Become the lag and hindmost of the packe;
And straight lose sight, sent, hearing of the rest.
So then to Nilus-ward they hold it best
To turne their course, with the coole waues to slacke
The heat they got, for double diligence sake.
The roughest, rudest, curstest Curr of all,
Which wont vpon the gentlest Dogs to fall,
(And neither being Hound nor Mastiffe bred,
But of a mongrill kinde, by shee-Wolues fed,
Did silence such as spent their sweeter voice
In turnefull tones, which Hunters eares reioyce,
Whil'st he nor at the fold would watch in darke,
Nor bite the Wolfe, nor with his harsh voyce barke,
Nor here amongst the Hounds once open wide
His monstrous chaps, except, to bite, or chide,
Or rauin and deuour the daintyest meat
Which the industrious, not the slug should eat:
And in despite of whips, though crouch and cry,
Would neuer mend, nor better grow thereby)
Led on the way, for he would still be fiist,
His impudence was such, and such his thirst.

Nor would he suffer auy their to drinke
Till he had done. Ambitions eye doth thinke
To swallow all, and all too little to,
For him that least deserues, and least can doo.
But see a iust reward, whil'st thus he lies
Tending his pleasure, from the waues doth rise
A cruell subtle Crocodile, who snatcheth
At him with her sharpe fangs, quickly catcheth
The lazie Curre; which struggles, cryes, and striues.
But all too late. Th' amphibious monster diues
Vnder the waues; the Dog resists in vaine,
Death swallowes him, the rest runhome amaine;
Home to the Sheepfolds, and attend the trade
They were by Art traind to, by Nature made.
And fearing now the like, for-warn'd by this,
When hot and dry they waxe, their custome is,
At banks of Nile nere to rest and stay,
But here and there to lap, and so away;
Lest otherwise some Crocodile being hid,
Should serue their sloth, like as the other did.

Epimythium.

This tale doth teach, each man himselfe t'apply
To his Vocation; not to looke awry
At Honors, Riches, Pleasures, which art baites
The deuill layes in our way, and in them waites
To swallow vs, whilest eagerly we seeke
To swallow and ingrosse whats'ere we like:
Without respect what's honest iust, and fit,
So we by any meanes can compasse it.

Each hath his element, his toyle, and sport.
The clowne the country, and the King his Court.
The Nobles in the Councell or the field,
The Sea, and Burse, doth like to Marchants yeeld.
Each trades-man in his shop, house-wiues at home;
“They range too far, that o're the threshold rome.
Lawyers vpon the bench, Diuines within
their studies, schooles or pulpits; else they sinne.
Who takes the plow in hand, must neuer slacke,
“Nor looke about, for then ne looketh backe,
Who takes the Crowne and Scepter, still must think
“When others soundly sleep, he must but winke,
Who goes to warre, or counsell must aduise
“The shame or honor on the Noblest lies.
Who guides the Helme must still his compas minde,
“And cheere his mates, and saile with euery winde.
Who by Mechanicke Arts doth hope to thriue,
“Must be a Bee, and make his shop his Hiue.
Who sits to Iudge, the Person must neglect,
“Not looke asquint, but to the truth direct.
Who will Episcopize, must watch, fast, pray,
“And see to worke, not ouersee to play.
They haue a double charge, to rule, and teach,
“Whil'st they neglect to preach, neglect they preach,
Each must his Doicesse tend; or if at Court,
What others dare not he must still report.
Yet nought but truth, nor all truthes but the good:
(So Moses in the gap of vengance stood)
What others dare not whisper he must sing,
And like a golden trumpet rouze the King,
VVith wise alarums from securer sleepe,
VVherein fraile flattring flesh doth greatnesse keepe

For greatnesse, both in state, wit, strength, and all
That wee call great one earth, is apt to fall
VVith greatest danger, greatest violence,
Vnlesse vpheld by greatest diligence.
And he is only worthy to be great,
VVho with a vertuous freedom holds the seat
Of Moses, and inclines to neither hand,
But both vpright only for truth doth stand,
Such tend their flocks; whil'st they attend the Court,
Their pastime 'tis to moderate each sport.
They season all raw humors. Seldome glance
On honours or on pleasurs, but by chance:
And then to recreate their spirits they do it,
Taking a snatch, and fall the harder to it.

GRYPS.

Dedicated To the Courtly and accomplisht Knight, Sr. Henry Rich, and his most equall Lady.

All Men seeke greatnes: goodnesse is the way.
Hee's oft lesse King that rules, then doth obay.
Adde to Gods worke your owne, his image then
Shall be repayr'd, for that's the crowne of Men.
The Griffon (well alli'd, and great in power)
Made challenge to be generall Emperour
Of beasts, and birds; whose title to decide,
A generall Councell was proclaimed wide
Through all the world, and euery bird and beast
Together met, the greatest, and the least.
Mongst these some crawling serpents, some with feet,
And some with wings did at this Councell meet,
And claim'd the place of beasts, and did alledge
Full many ancient lawes of priuiledge

For their high honour; but the chiefe was this;
They prou'd themselues beasts, out of Genesis.
But when that Law was read, and it was found,
Their treason brought a curse vpon the ground;
That euer since their poyson did annoy
Both birds and beasts, and oft did both destroy;
Cloking their fraud, guilding their villanie
With ancient vniuersall-vnity;
Betraying truth with darke ambiguous lies,
And cosening man of blessed Paradise:
Adulterating, purging of the sence
Of holy Writ, vnder a good pretence:
They had by generall voice, strict banishment
From comming nere this Court of Parliament.
And now the rest proceed; but by the way
Arose another cause of some delay,
Comming to choose a Speaker, bolde Iack daw
Would interpose his skill, and vouch a Law,
(The law of Parasites) that each one might
Speake what him list, gainst reason or gainst right.
And that no Speaker needed, ought to be,
Where such a mixture was; for if quoth he,
We choose a bird, the beasts will all dissent;
If they a beast, we shall be discontent.
This speech, though true in part, did all offend,
Because they saw his busie tongue did bend
To crosse all businesse, and his wit deuise
To change the firmest knots to nullities.
So they agreed together in this sort,
To cut his nimble tongue a little short,
For sawcie tatling, where he should not teach;
And being silent where he ought to preach.

But he auoides his sentence with a quirke,
Pleading of old he longed to the Kirke,
Though seldom he came there; and each one tooke
Him for no Clarke, vntill he claim'd his booke
Then they perceiu'd his skill; and soone discerned
How he to flatter and backbite was learned;
Could mount a steeples top, and with the winde
Turne like a weather-cocke his ready minde,
Seruing the time. Therefore they onward passe
To choose a Speaker; some would haue the Asse,
Because he could diminish nought nor adde,
But truth deliuer, were it good or bad:
Yet most mislik'd that choice, and those pronounce
The Parrot fit, and some the nimble Ounce;
Some the sweet Nightingale, and some the Dog,
And some the Fox, the Baboone, some the Hog;
Some Robin red-brest, or the speckled Thrush,
Some Chantecleere, and some the VVoodcock flush.
Some chose the Ape, and some mislike his voice,
So sundry factions rise from his heard choice.
At last the Elephant perswades with all,
To take an equall course, and Man to call
As Speaker, Iudge, and Vmpire in this thing,
Being by nature the worlds generall King,
And the most fit t'appoint and to depute
His owne Emperiall bird-beast substitute.
To this they all consent, and to this end
In humble wise to Man this Message send,
That he their Patron, Gouernor and Lord,
VVould daigne this mighty difference to accord
VVith reason and authority. His consent
Is soone obtain'd: now gins the Parliament.

In which the Griffon thus begins his plea.
Grand Emperour, of Ayre, Earth, and Sea;
I challenge by prerogatiue, and birth,
To be your Vicar generall on the Earth,
O're birds and beasts: The beasts I ought command,
Because vpon foure feet like them I stand.
The birds I ought to rule, cause I can flie
With these my wings like them, and soare as hie.
I doe surpasse the beasts in hauing wings,
The birds in legs, in taile, and other things:
My force doth match the Lyons, and my heart
The Eagle, or excels them in each part.
Your doome I therefore claime, that I may be
Plac'd equall to my worth in soueraigntie:
And next your selfe the Emperour be of Earth,
According to the priuiledge of my birth.
Then spake the Elephant, and said, that he
Ought ouer beasts the only Lord to be.
His strength was great, and more then others farre,
His honours purchasde more in manly warre:
His learning more, the letters vnderstanding,
And aptly doing all, wise Man commanding.
Gainst him vp rose the Syre of Bankes his horse,
And challeng'd him to try, wit, worth, and force.
This grew to heate, but then the mighty Rucke
Soone parts the fray, each did from other plucke;
Desires she might be heard, her challenge was
To rule all birds, since she all birds did passe.
The Wren straight hopt about, and said, his name
Did shew from what a royall stocke he came.
And euery bird and beast, the great and small,
Had his ambitious ayme to gouerne all,

Which hauing made, in silence all sate downe
Being ouer-aw'd with mans Emperiall frowne.
Each fear'd, each hop'd, vntill at length the Man
Rose vp, and to determine thus began.
I was your Master made, you made for me,
And whatsoeuer in the Globe there be
Hid or reueal'd, t'is mine. And I alone
Sole Emperour am, vnder that onely One.
Nor doubt you this; the question now in hand
Is for the vnder-king-ship of my land;
For t'is not fit that I should troubled be
With euery toy, when subiects disagree:
But that my President should still be nigh,
Your doubts and iarres t'appease and rectifie.
It only rests to shew what parts are fit
For gouernment. That's courage, strength and wit,
Mercy and iustice, and the guard to those,
Awe to command, dexteritie to dispose.
If any part of these be separate,
The rule is most imperfect, and the State
Falls to contempt; the lawes are trodden downe,
The Scepter broken, and despis'd the Crowne.
This shewes how many here haue vainly sought
For one good part, the wreath that many ought.
That nor the Ruck, the Elephant nor Horse,
Are fit to gouerne for their matchlesse force;
Nor for their wit alone; for then the Oxe
Might make his claime too, and subtle Foxe:
Much lesse the silly Wren for honor'd house,
Nor the catt-fearing, Elephant-frighting Mouse.
For these would breed contempt, and Athens Owle
Might challenge so night-rule of eu'ry Fowle.

Nor is it meet this Griffon should obtaine
What by pretence of right he seeks to gaine.
Because his title halts on either side,
Except in halues, himselfe he will deuide.
He is no beast: his talents, wings, and head
Conclude against his challenge in my stead.
Nor yet a bird: his body, legs, and tayle
With euidence his garments all do quaile.
But if where proofe lyes hid, we may proceede
By probabilities; from spurious seede
He tooke his being, and would neither loue,
Being like to neither, but a Tyrant proue.
And where he boasts his wondrous strength and hart,
It's false he doth pretend, because that part
Which shewes him Lyon-like in shape, hide, haire,
Doth of the kingly-Lyon stand in feare.
And that birds part which he from th'Eagle tooke,
On the sky-towring Eagle dares not looke.
The Lyon therefore I ordaine and make
The King of beasts; his awfull voice shall shake
The proudest spirit. And the Eagle shall
Be King of Birds, and ouer-looke them all.
This sentence past, the Parlament arose,
And with these rules of truth the Sessions close.

Epimythium.

Who seeks two swords to sway, hath right to none;
Who seeks two offices, is not fit for one:
Who seeks two callings, takes too much in hand:
Who hath two faiths, doth true to neither stand.
One sword, one office, calling, and one faith,
Is fit for one Man; so this storie saith.

4. SPHINX, HYENA.

Dedicated To the wise and valiant Souldier, Sr. Iohn Pooly Knight, and to his good Lady.

You lou'd my Brother, he is gone, I stay,
T'acknowledge first a debt, and then to pay:
Loue lookes vpon the will, which easily can
Proue ther's no bankrupt but the thanklesse Man.
Hyena was a subtle beast and bloudy;
To ruine man was his whole trade and study.
He scorn'd the sheep, the shepheard was his prey,
His nightly plots got, what he mist by day.
The shepheards of Arcadia, beguil'd
By his fain'd voice, were murther'd oft and spoil'd.
For in the night he wont like some good friend,
To call them out, and then a peeces rend.
One onely wiser shepheard thought it best
Hire Sphinx to watch his house whil'st he did rest:

Whose subtiltie foresaw, and still preuented,
What else his Master had too late repented.
For when the false Hyena went about
Calling for helpe, to traine the Shepheard out,
Faining distresse as if he robbed were,
Or mist his way (a weary traueller);
Sphinx soone perceiu'd his counterfeit complayning,
And laught out-right to heare his craftie fayning;
But would not let the credulous shepheard goe,
(Whose tender heart pittied his mortall foe)
Till day appear'd, and that the Sunne shone bright.
Together with the Sphinx full many a night,
An Indian Asse and Musk-cat, safely slept,
Whil'st Sphinx the shepheards house & houshold kept.
Nor did they alwaies sleep but often heard
What at the first to thinke vpon they fear'd;
But custome at the length bereft all awe,
And they afrayd were when they nothing faw.
So enuy wrought, and Ignorance, and Pride,
That they the wiser Sphinx dare now deride.
And mou'd the Shepheard, to preuent the charge
Of keeping more, to let the Sphinx at large.
Perswading there was no such cause of dread,
But they might well supply the Sphinx his stead:
Who fain'd those feares, and did imagine treason,
To win th'opinion of much wit and reason.
The Sheapheard fondly credits this; and straight
Lets loose the Sphinx, and these in order waite.
The Indian Asse he trusted being plaine,
Supposing he would neither lye, nor faine.
And the Musk-cat, was pleasant to the smell,
And very watchfull; needs must these do well.

The night is come, the Shepheard soundly sleeps
As he had wont, no skar his conscience keeps.
These two stand Sentinel, and now ere long,
Comes the Hyena, and with smoothing tongue
Saith; Is your Master waking, gentle swaines?
If not, arere him, tell him all the Plaines
Are vp in armes against our common foe,
The false Hyena that beguil'd vs so.
He cannot scape their hands, for they haue found
The Caue he keeps in, closely vnder ground.
Bid him awake and rise and come away,
For all the Shepheards for his comming stay.
This tale beleeu'd, the Asse and Musk-cat hye,
To make their Master to make hast to dye.
He riseth rashly, opes the doore, goes out,
And is deuour'd ere he can looke about.
Nor can the watch-men scape, but both are slaine:
Though one be sweet, the other true and plaine.

Epimythium.

“Not simple truth alone can make vs fit,
“To beare great place in State without great wit.
“For when the Serpent comes to circumuent vs,
“We must be Serpents too, or els repent vs.

HIPPOPOTAMUS.

Dedicated To the magnificent Knight Sr. Hvgh Smith, and his worthy Lady.

Your Auon's quiet, no such Monsters feede
'Bout sandy Seuerne, as in Nilus breede:
Nilus-like your bountie ouerflowes,
Whence good report, and fame, and honour growes.
The Sea-horse; and the famous Crocodile,
Both challeng'd to be Kings of fruitfull Nile;
And sundry fields they fought, where many dyed
Of either faction, still the cause vntried.
Yet often had they single, hand to hand,
Encountred in the flood, and on the land:
And parted still with equall harme away,
Nor both the blowes bore thence, but not the day;

Yet each inuincible himselfe did call,
And so they were, but to themselues, to all.
But when they cop'd, successe did thus conclude;
Courage remayn'd, strength only was subdu'd.
And so for want of strength they often sundred,
Though at their wondrous strength al other wondred
Thus oft they met, and oft assay'd in vaine,
Who should th'Emperiall crowne of Nilus gaine:
Till both grew weary of these warres at length,
And gan lay by the vse of armes and strength.
And truce proclaim'd a while on either part,
A fained truce, no friendship from the heart.
For vnder-hand by stratagems, and friends,
And secret plots, each sought their seuerall ends.
But much more noble was the Crocodile,
And wiser much, though not so full of guile
As Hippopotamus, so th'other hight,
Who car'd not what he did, or wrong or right,
By falshood, bribes, or treason; so he could,
The foulest fact, to his aduantage mould,
And thus he call'd Chameleon on a day,
With Polypus, and vnto them gan say:
You two my bosome-friends, my Minions are,
My priuie Counsellers in peace and warre.
And I haue found you plyant to my will,
Faithfull to me, but false to others still.
And now I craue, your vtmost Art and reason,
In conquering of the Crocodile by treason;
Which thus I purpose: Both of you are made,
By nature apt to colour and to shade,
With fit resemblance all the obiects nye,
On which you shall reflect a steady eye,

You can seeme otherwise, then what you be,
And couer hate with close hypocrisie,
You can take any shape, any disguise,
And soone beguile the most inquisitiue eyes;
Weare any Liuery, all companies fit,
And to each humour change your ready wit.
This you haue done before, and oft made plaine
Weightie intelligence, and can so againe.
But each his proper element retayning,
Chameleon in the ayre, and earth remaining,
You Polypus at sea. To sea then hye,
And with rich promises Torpedo buy
To our close seruice: he in Counsell is
To our great foe, a greater friend of his.
“But wealth is our best friend, and that corrupts
“The purest minde, and friendship interrupts.
With gifts and promises peruert him so,
That he may call vs friend, count him a foe:
Will him he would, when fitting time doth come,
With his slowe touch, secure, bewitch, benumme,
Our aduersary, and his sense astonish,
That it may seeme a crime him to admonish
Of our apparant practises preparing,
Whilst he attends his sports, no danger fearing.
Then to the Water-rat Ichneumon goe,
And you to Cuschillus and will them too,
When next they picke his teeth, and scratch his head,
For they are neere him still at euery stead,
And highly fauor'd, (chiefly Cuschillus),
Though both in fee and pension be withvs),
That they would ioyne their wits and force together
To murther him; and for reward come hither.

So when your plots he closely thus conuey'd,
And all your traines and tew in order laid,
Then mixe your selues in either element
With the profuse, the needy, discontent,
The desperate, the bloody, and the bold,
Whom nought but feare do from rebellion hold;
Of such you shall finde many in this State.
For hee's remisse, and doth all businesse hate,
Whereby he gets contempt, and opens wide
A ready way of entrance vnespide
To our high aimes. Full many you shall finde
Of our close faction, fitting to our minde.
Those that are such encourage, others frame,
And what you will speake largely in our name;
Promise, and sweare, and lye, to make things fit,
That our designes may prosper by our wit.
Away, and for the rest leaue that to me.
The spies instructed thus fit agents be,
And post with speede, and with a speed too good
Dispatch all Scenes fit for the Act of blood.
And now the wise, learn'd, valiant Crocodile,
A hunting hies vnto the bankes of Nile:
Where hauing sported long, and fully fed,
The slow Torpedo strokes him on the head,
Whispers within his eare, and charmes him so
That in the Sun-shine he to rest must go.
But as he goes drowsie and reeling thus,
Meets him the Indian Rat, and Cuschillus,
And lowting low with musicke him presents,
And antique shewes, and masking meriments;
Striuing to hide their treason with such Art,
That their true care almost betraid their heart,

This wise Alcedo (one that many a dish
Had for his King prepar'd, of dantiest fish),
Did soone suspect, and with shrill voice gan crie,
Sir King beware, for enemies are nie;
Beware of him that's busie with your eare,
And tells you lies, that truth you may not heare:
Beware of him that's scratching of your head,
Beware of him that's making of your bed.
Beware of him that doth extoll you so,
And like a God adores you as you go:
Beware of him that doth so humbly fall
On his false knee; good King beware of all.
With that the Crocodile gan looke about,
Being halfe asleep, from a sweet dreame wak'd out,
And would haue heard more, but the charmers kept
The bird away by force; and so he slept.
He slept, and Cuschillus did sing the while,
And pickt his teeth, and vsed many a wile
To ope his ouer-chap (for onely he
Doth moue his ouer-chap, the nether we):
At last he tickled him, and forc't him so
To yawne and gape: then Cuschillus doth go
Into his belly, and the Indian Rat
Leapes quickly after; where they first search what
Close counsels, secret purposes did fill
His darker bosome, were they good or ill.
But were they good or ill, it matters not,
For they pursue and prosecute their plot:
They gin to gnaw his bowels, and to rake
His entrailes with their nailes; which paine doth wake
Him from his latest sleepe, and makes him crie
Aloud this counsell: Princes see ye trie.

Before ye trust, Those seruants that be ill
“At your commaund, for others money will
“Betray you too: he easly will dispense
“With greatest sinnes, who hath of small no sence.
“Beware of such as flatter by traduction,
“Theile first be others, then be your destruction.
“Beware of priuie whisperers and spies,
“The truth they tell is but a sauce for lies.
Beware of Ledgers, for legerdemaine
With others beside Iuglers doth remaine:
“And cheating and crosse-biting Great ones may
“In great things vse, as Little ones at play.
Beware of Clergie men their colour changing,
And in each place with lawlesse freedome ranging.
Take heede of Pensions, they haue often slept,
In priuy Chambers, and at Counsell kept.
And if it be a truth which some haue told,
Good men haue had large sleeues to put vp gold.
With that he dies, and those that were within,
Striuing who first should greatest credit win,
By carrying newes of this accursed deede,
Hinder each other in their hasty speede:
And issuing out iust as his chaps did close,
Did their reward, life, fame, together lose.
“Yet ill report findes wings in euery place;
And this vnto the Sea-horse flies apace;
Who (making too much hast) in top of pride,
Nothing before, behinde, nor bout him spide,
And so, for lacke of care, himselfe betraide
Into a pit-fall which th'Egyptians laid.
There he doth pine to death, and dying cries,
“Who liues by treason, thus by treason dies.

PHÆNIX.

Dedicated To the honorable Knight Sr. Robert Riche, and his noble Lady.

There 's but one Phænix, is there had been more,
Your names had stood within, but now before.
Th' Arabian Phænix, being noble, young,
And newly from his fathers ashes sprung,
Seeing how other birds did louers take
Of their owne kind, would needs like tri[illeg.]
And thought by what good course he might preuent
His doubted ruine, and seeme prouident,
Where nature (as he iudg'd) defectiue stood,
In leauing single, such an absolute good.
His meanes was marriage, married he would be,
But where to choose a Mate he could not see:

For choose hee might and please his curious eyne,
Each bird made suite to be his Valantine.
The Pehen drest her selfe and spred her taile,
The Turkey-hen aduanc'd her spotted saile.
The Turtle left her mate to ioyne with him,
The Siluer-Swan, in ruffled pride did Swim,
The Parakite, and Goldfinch,, Citie heires,
Offer'd him loue, and what besides was theirs:
The courtly Pheasant gaudy Popiniay,
In varied coloures drest themselues that day:
The sweet Canary singer stroue t'excell
The merry-making mournefull Philomel;
Who left deploring, and did mirth preferre:
Wishing the Phænix would haue rauish't her.
All these, with all besides the rest excelling,
Did woo him, proffer loue, their passions telling.
But all in vaine; the bird of Paradise,
Had with her pleasing forme bewitcht his eyes.
He wooes, and winnes her too, with small adoe,
“Where both desire, both parties seeme to wooe:
And who would not desire so rare a one,
Whom all desire, him to enioy alone?
They married are. Opinions equall voice,
Say both are happy in each others choice.
For she was faire, and rare, and rich, and young,
And wise, and noble, and full sweetly sung;
In all complete she was, only did faile,
Hauing too small a body for her taile.
This fault she tooke by kinde, it cost her nought,
From her birth place the frailtie first she brought.
And though by all good meanes she stroue to hide
This naturall blemish, still it was espide.

And spied the more, because this corporall ill,
Being single here, did each mans fancy fill.
“That disproportion doubles in the minde,
“Where we it single in the body finde.
And so it fell out here; not long they dwelt
In peace, but loues fire alteration felt,
And gan to slake and coole, where it should not,
And where it should be coole, it waxed hot.
Shee now did hate and loath, the sweet she had,
And linger after something that was bad.
Her taile was too too large for him to tread,
He too too little her to ouer-spread.
To ouerspread her body was not much,
But her insatiate taile, and minde was such.
So weakest stomacks strongest meates desire.
So greatest smoke riseth from smallest fire.
So slender wits great matters vndertake.
So swift pursuite, doth slow performance make.
So th'appetite, by impotence is mou'd.
So shee (though little) eu'ry great thing lou'd.
She lou'd all great things, and all rare things sought,
But what she had that she esteemed nought.
She had what others long'd for, and enioyde
What all desir'd: and that enioying cloyde.
And now she ginnes to hate, and wish in heart,
A fit occasion offer'd were to part.
But wanting such, shee frames one: doth traduce,
And wound his honour for her owne excuse.
And still pretending modesty a cause,
Immodestly, she triall claimes by lawes.
Although the Phænix her with teares did woo,
She separation sought, and gets it too.

The sentence past, she Cynosure doth wed,
And vnknowne fowle, by th'ayre begot and bred.
He (following kind) trod oft, and quencht her heate,
And she laid oft, fild many a neast and seate
With addle egges; but neuer bird did spring,
Out of those shells, nor other liuing thing.
Yet some in their opinions counted wise,
Say that such egges do hatch the Cockatrice.
Yet nothing from these spurious Embrions came
But naked promises, and openshame.
In memory of whose vnhappy wombe,
That brought dead fruit forth, like a liuing tombe,
(Dead fruit, much like faire apples all of smoake,
Which grow in Sodome, and the eaters choake,)
Each courtly lady now vpon their head,
Do weare a bird of Paradise, instead
Of a light feather; which doth warning giue,
How free from lightnesse, Ladies ought to liue:
How constant they should be, how firme in loue:
Not feather-like, apt with each breath to moue.
How well proportion'd, not so great below,
But lesse in shew, and more in truth to know.
To fit the bottome with an equall saile,
And not to ouer-top the head with taile.
All this it tells them, and doth shew beside,
“How addle egges spring out of lust, and pride.
“How noble houses by ignoble deeds,
“Bury themselues and their owne ruine breeds.
“How beautie and all vertues of the minde,
“Conioynde with wealth, adorne not woman kinde:
“Except with these, true chastitie be plac'd,
“And that againe, by modesty be grac'd.

And now I will proceede to tell my story,
How sad the Phænix was in minde, how sory
To be so sleighted and so ill respected,
By her for whose sake, he had all neglected.
This wounds his heart, and he resolues too late,
All second matches for the first to hate;
To liue alone, and neuer more to minde
Fond alteration, in the course of kinde.
But griefe perplex't him so, he fear'd to die,
Ere he were fitted for posteritie.
And so his neast vnmade, he quickly might,
Both life, and name, and memory loose out-right
This to preuent, his flight he nimbly takes
O're hilles and dales, o're desarts, riuers, lakes,
O're kingdomes, countries, bounding East and West,
And spices gathers vp to build his neast.
Which made, and finding still his former griefe,
Not cur'd but growing desperate of reliefe,
Him better seem'd by priuiledge of kinde,
To kill his body, and renue his minde:
To leaue griefe where it breeds with earth on earth,
And recreate his spirit with spritly birth,
(Like fire, which touching powder straight resolues
The grosser parts; and each it selfe inuolues
In its owne element) then so t'outweare
And tyre away with griefe sixe hundred yeare,
(For so long liues the Phænix) but thought he,
“So long he dies that liues in miserie.
And therefore soone betakes him to his neast,
Wherefore-prepar'd he finds his funerall drest.
The Sun shines bright and hot, he with his wings
Makes more the heate: & sparkling diamond brings,

Whose strong reflection, or retention rather
Either beates backe the heate, or heate doth gather.
Which kindled (like dri'd leaues with burning glasses)
Consumes the neast, and bird, and all to ashes.
Vpon these ashes fruitfull dewes descend,
And the hot Sun his actiue beames do bend.
So heate and moisture twixt them procreate,
A silly worme vnlike the bird in state.
But time doth giue it growth, and shape, and feathers,
And still perfection from each houre it gathers.
Till to the former equall it appeares,
Or rather all one bird, except in yeares.
The rauenous Vulture wondring long had stood
To marke all this, within a neighbour wood.
Which hauing seene, ambition pricks her so,
That she resolues what'euer power saith no,
Example and direction hence to take,
Her selfe and hers all Phænixes to make.
So calls she first the Hee, and then the young:
And thus gan speake to them with rauisht tounge.
How much my power hath done, how much my wit,
You know, yet know some repetition fit.
I do the Eagle rule, (the birds braue King)
And worke him to my minde in euery thing.
He preyes on whom I list; still on the best;
Eates what I stint him, and leaues you the rest.
I gouerne euery Hawke, or bird of prey;
Such as confront the Eagle, me obay;
And make me sharer in their richest prize,
And how to please me best, best meanes deuise.
I that despise Religion, scorne all law,
Do binde all other birds to both by awe:

To both for my aduantage, else you know
I can prophane the Temple well enough;
Pollute the Altar; search the graue, each tombe,
And dig out of the priuiledged wombe
Of hallow'd earth, dainties for you to lurch,
Mans flesh, enshrined in the sacred Church.
You know I foster Souldiers not for loue,
But to breed warres; the slaine my prey still proue.
All sorts, professions, kinds, I prey vpon,
When their sweete flesh in turn'd to carrion.
For carrion is my food, let others kill
And hazzard life for life, we safely will
Eate the vnfortunate, the weake, distressed,
Whom want enfeebled, mightie power oppressed.
This is our practise. But I cald ye now
For higher aimes: to giue you notice how
We may aspire in royaltie and pride
Aboue the Eagle, and all birds beside.
Much time, much study, with full large expence,
Haue I bestowed, to gaine intelligence
Of a rare secret, which exceedeth farre
Th' Alchimisters Idol, call'd th'Elixar.
This is, to vnderstand and know aright,
What course to take, and how we compasse might
The glorious eminence, the singular grace,
The famous Phænix hath in euery place:
How to attaine her nature, beauty, state;
And without copulation procreate.
At length my wit, my industry, and chance
Concurring, did this happinesse aduance:
For watching lately, as I often did,
In desart vast, among thicke bushes hid,

I saw (vnseene) the mysterie throughout,
And can resolue each rite, each scrupulous doubt.
The circumstance were needlesse, whil'st the fact
Shall manifest each seuerall Scene, and act,
With happy issue; and accomplish so
Our wishes, that we shall amazed goe;
Amazed goe, to see our selues so low,
So soone to such a pitch of glory grow:
So soone translated, metamorphosed,
And new created from the foot to head:
Beyond our hopes, report, the present station
Of other birds, almost to adoration.
Enquire not how, but each prepare t'obay,
What I command; performance leads the way.
Hie on, hie all, to seuerall quarters flie,
And through the whole world make a scrutinie
For aromatick drugges, perfuming spices,
Rare pretious stones, rich iewels, strange deuices.
Bring them together, lay them on this hill,
And the successe refer to my deep skill.
The young ones all obayde, but then the Male
Staid long t'enquire the reason of this tale.
Yet long he durst not stay, lest shee from thence
Should beate him for his arrogant offence:
For females of all rauening fowles beare sway,
And the blacke Vulture is a bird of prey.
The male ne're meddles with young, meat, or nest:
But shee commands, and he sits like a guest.
He seeing her incenst, away doth post
Ore many Seas, and many an vnknowne Coast,
And all the world surueyes from East to West,
From North to South, and gathers what is best;

Sweet odoriferous spices, amber-greece,
The Castors stones, the Ermins spotted fleene,
Rich Luzerns, Sables, Martins, and the horee
Of the most precious-seld-seen Vnicorne.
The Musk-cats cod, with Rubies blushing red,
Quick-sparkling Diamonds cutting glasse like lead;
Bright shining Carbuncles, and Saphires blew,
With Iasper, Iacynth; Emerals greene in view;
Perspicuous Christall, orient Pearles large, round,
And Gold, for which man doth the Center sound;
Blacke, white, greene, marble; in-laid Porphyrie,
With Alablasters for Imagerie:
Truth-trying Touch-stones, making things distinct,
And what rariety else within precinct
Of ample Nature dwels, they hither brought;
With which a curious neast shee neatly wrought,
To match whose wealth remaining earth was base.
Her selfe, Mate, yong, each by themselues had place
In this most royall building. Then in state
Her selfe sate downe, and next her musing Mate.
Her young ones, then in order, One by One,
And now the Sunne shin'd hot on euery stone
The spice gan kindle. Now quoth shee I finde
My selfe halfe made immortall changing kinde.
The fire flam'd fiercer then, and sing'd their wings:
Be constant Sirs quoth shee, you shall be Kings.
“Gold crownes are heauy, toyle is hard but gainfull;
“There is no excellent sweet but first is painfull.
They would haue flowne away, but 'twas too late.
Quoth shee the Phænix dies to liue in state.
With that she sinkes, her neast and all combust
Her glorious hopes, and proiects turn'd to dust.

Which tells vs this: Pride still doth ouer-build.
“Folly is not in architecture skill'd.
“Wit frames his Plot according to his state,
“And to a small house makes no lofty gate.
“But ouer-bold Ambition fires her neast,
“And proues her houses shame, her house a ieast.

VNIO.

DEDICATED TO THE TRVE LOVER OF HIS COVNTRY Sr. Arthvr Heveningham Knight, and his truly Religious Lady.

Yov know the moodes of Men, the tempers too
Of Climes, of States, of Elements; Then who
May better read this tale? The minde that's free
Can iudge diseases, and distempers see.
The Mole, Chamelion, and the Salamander,
As neere the Ocean they together wander,
Spying at sea the Lamprey, haild him thus:
Good day my friend to you and eke to vs.
We three are met to argue and debate
Which of vs liueth in the happiest state;
Whether the ayre, the earth, or fire doth giue
To what they breed best sustenance to liue.

And we would gladly heare how farre the sea
May with fire, ayre, and earth compared be.
You happily we met as we would wish,
Being a prompt, deep diuing, subtle fish,
And ablest to resolue vs. Come then show
The life you lead, and learne our liues to know.
The Lamprey soone consents. And first the Mole
Doth thus begin. Deare friends I left my hole
To breath the open ayre (whose light I hate)
T'acquaint yee with the blessings of my state.
And to perswade ye, if you loue your rest
To liue with me in peace, and plenty blest.
It fits me first to speake, for I had first
My being, long before the earth was curst.
Darkenesse was not created; tis as old
As that great workeman which the whole doth mold
But light was made long after, and doth show,
That ignorance is elder then to know.
The workmans selfe in cloudy darknes keeps;
For no eye sees or when he wakes or sleepes.
He loues not euery curious foole should see
What ioyes, what treasures, in obliuion bee.
The worthy Grecian would haue learn'd that Art,
For ignorance is wisdoms better part.
When all was Chaos first the Center stood,
And all the solide parts, call'd Earth. The flood
Was next being ponderous. The ayre flew higher;
And as a hedge to all was placed fire.
What first was plac'd was worthiest, & brought forth
The first of creatures, and best things of worth.
And first it brought forth things that were below;
The roote had life, before the fruit did grow.

And we (earths darlings) had our shape within
Ere you without. Nor doe th'effects of sin
(Ambitious sin which light and knowledge sought
And (fondly curious) blinde obedience thought
A base director) so afflict and kill
Vs here within; as you who share in ill
Of punishment and guilt, with foolish man;
Yet no way from his rule acquit ye can.
You dwell with him, and dye with him. But we
Are earth by nature, procreated free.
And our forefathers customes still obay,
Doe as they did, and follow their blind way.
Not striuing busily our wits t'approue
By searching doubts, but rather shew our loue,
By louing euen their errors that are gone,
Or reuerently beleeuing they had none.
Our dyet is most choice, on rootes to feed,
And rellish first the sweet of euery seed.
You liue on th'excrement, and do not know,
That fundamentall vertue springs below.
Besides you liue like slaues, but I am free,
Though bloudy-minded Man oft seeks for me.
The Lyon did pretend because I haue
Foure feet, that I by nature was his slaue:
He call'd for this a Councell, sent for me
To sweare to his seruile supremacie.
But I (refusing th'othe) to spite him more
Did vndermine his Councell-chamber flore
And had not light (damn'd light) my plot bewraide
He had to hell sunke by the traine I laide.
But light discouered me, and since that deed
I loath light more, and so in darknesse breed.

Darknes thou sweet companion, friend of sleepe,
How I delight in thee. With thee doth keepe
All that man seeks for, euery secret plot,
Darke mysterie, close stratagem; what not?
Inuisible wealth, with treasures manifold,
But chiefe Mans soule, his god, almighty gold.
This Man knowes well, and knowing learnes of me
To dig and delue till in his graue he be.
Then all proclaime him happy: say he is
At peace and rest, and doth enioy all blisse.
And such say truth: for he returnes againe
To his first being, and doth so remaine.
“Contentment with darke ignorance doth dwell,
“And light and knowledge only maketh hell.
Then without farther strife liue all with mee,
If you will taste no paines, nor errors see.
The changeable Chamelion laught out-right,
To heare the blinde Mole raile so much at light.
And said; Your darker spirits can't conceiue,
The blessed fruit, that we from light receiue.
Let fooles depend on faith implicatiue,
Wise-men into the depth of truth will diue.
Darknesse and ignorance, which you suppose
Had an eternall being, are the foes
Of all eternall beings; and indeed
Are voide in nature without fruit, root, seed.
Darknesse is but the absence of cleare light.
As error is the ignorance of right.
So these two are vacuities, want being;
Not seene by others, nor yet others seeing.
From nothing, nothing springs; something there was
From whence this vniuersall frame, this Masse

Of strange agreeing contrarieties,
Had essence: and 'twas something that had eyes:
For sure it was not ignorance, nor night,
They could not see to order things so right.
But it was knowledge, wisedome, light, and truth,
Figur'd immature age, and actiue youth.
The priuiledge you plead, Antiquitie,
Proues onely, that of old you vs'de to lye;
And that all truth you hate, for truth doth run
Still to the light, and you the light do shun.
And where you challenge your creation first;
It is not like, Nature would make the worst
Before the best; except this can preferre
Your claime, that as young workemen vse to erre
In their first workes; so Nature first did try
To make right eyes, by making yours awry.
Much rather truth it is, she did bestow,
Labour in framing others; but for you,
She left you to corruption, night, and chance,
Which made your eies such, such your countenance.
And your tame-blinde obedience well befits
Such earth-bred, doltish, dull, and sluggish wits.
But ayerie Spirits acquainted with the light,
Will not be led by custome from the right.
No loue, no friends, no predecessor shall
Peruert their iudgements; they examine all.
And for the food ye boast to eat boast still;
No root, herbe, fruit of yours, I handle will.
They are corrupted. Ayre doth only giue
True nourishment, and happiest meanes to liue.
The sick-man shewes this, who the weather fayre,
Remooues for health, from close to th'open ayre.

And for the light, your death doth it approoue;
When only then your eyes are seen to moue.
Then you begin to see, and loath the kinde
Which being blind themselues brought you vp blind,
Bereauing you of many a blessed sight,
Which we enioy, who loue and liue in light.
Your freedom from all beasts I like. T'is ill
To be subiected to anothers will:
But that to your superiors I do hate,
And therefore am exilde from euery state:
I liue a poore thin creature, by the ayer;
My selfe I feed with hopes, others with prayer.
My eyes I oft lift vp, and roole about,
Desiring to be seen to be deuout.
But neither with my bulke, nor with my backe
Supply the least defect of others lacke.
I beare no Wooll to clothe, no flesh to feed;
Let sheep, and Calues, releeue the poore that need.
I rauisht go with a distracted looke,
And turne my mind, still, as I turne my booke,
My will doth lead my conscience, not my wit.
And euery riddle for my purpose fit:
Hating whats'ere is old, I loue the new
And to all purposes, change my ready hue.
My flesh is low, my spirit high and prowd
Doth contradict what order hath allow'd.
I fast when others feast, feast when they fast,
And with Angelicall food, I do out-last
All Gormandizers. Come then, liue with me
All that loue life, and light, and would be free.
The Salamander hearing this discourse,
Sayd, Sure you both do argue without force.

Darke ignorance our nature doth contemne:
And curious search wise Magistrates condemne
By blindnesse we our wants and dotage shew:
To those, not reuerence but reproch is due.
Not priuatiue blindnesse, our antiquitie showes,
But onely that which by long seeing growes.
But you blinde Mole do ignorance affect,
Which breeds derision, scorne and dis-respect.
For what a senselesse part is this in you,
Your fathers faults and errours to allow?
And not much rather to reforme your owne,
By shunning the defects, which they haue showne?
Your food is grosse and earthly; dirt and mould
Mixt with old roots, do much corruption hold.
Yet (though they gin to die, with age and wither)
The good with bad (being old) you cram togither.
This makes my fiery spirit scorne to keep
In your darke celles, where knowledge seems to sleep.
But you Chameleon with a hand too bold,
Oppose, contemne, and scorne, whats'ere is old.
You onely loue to see, but not to doo,
You dote on knowledge and on error too.
“T'is error, in our sight to ouerweene,
“And but our owne, all iudgements dis-esteeme:
“T'is error to be fondly ouer-wise,
“Too pure, too iust, too perfect, too precise.
There is a meane. For knowledge sure doth liue
“Onely, where it doth good to others giue.
You too too sawcie hidden secrets handle,
And too too fond your owne conceits doe dandle,
And cocker with obseruance: being so
A friende to superstition, though a foe.

The light you vse, is borrowed not your owne,
The colours that you see, their ground vnknowne.
Your darke imperfect, double glimmering sight,
Is but th'extended beames of greater light.
Arising from vicinitie of fire,
To which the purest elements aspire
In their refined parts; the earth in gold
And pretious stones, doe most resemblance hold;
The sea in salt, in Pearles, in dewes that rise,
And to the Sonne-ward with ambition flies;
The Ayre in colous and in Meteors bright,
Which the Sunnes place vsurpe in darkest night.
Tis fire alone that searcheth and refines,
And doth diuide the grosse from purer mines.
Tis fire that makes grasse, herbe, and tree to grow:
Meltes the seas Icie chaines, and th'earths cold snow.
It cheares the young, it cherisheth the old,
Reuiues the dying, makes the Coward bold.
Nothing without it can be said to liue,
Whats'ere hath being, it doth glory giue.
Which makes me to determine, that the light
Which you inuisible call, is but a sprite
Made by your feare, and strong imagination,
Without true being, essence, or foundation.
For light the greater 'tis, doth more appeare;
So should that light of lights, if such there were.
My iudgement therefore in this rule doth runne,
There's nothing greater then the glorious Sunne,
Here I set downe my rest. And for the schooles,
That teach beleefe, let them still tutor fooles.
From your contention, my instruction sprung;
And thus I learn'd to thinke when I was young.

The Mole doth feede too much on earthly meat,
And the Chameleon nought but ayre doth eat.
I neither like your fast, nor yet your feasting,
For twixt you two all earnest turnes to ieasting.
And doth perswade me thinke, there is no food,
In earth or ayre, that doth or hurt, or good.
So all my knowledge, practise, life, doth chime,
According to the current, state, and time.
I thinke they'r only gulls that liue in awe
Of any thing but want, death, and the law.
I quench all fiery zeal wheres'ere I come;
And would haue Policie speake, Religion dumbe.
I poyson with my breath, both foe and friend,
And to my pleasure doe each proiect bend:
In briefe I onely am a freeman borne,
Who loue my selfe alone, and others scorne.
The Lamprey hearing this damn'd Atheist tell,
A tale befitting none but Machiuael,
Thrust his eye-guarded head aboue the brim,
Of the rug'd waues, and to the shore did swim.
And on his slippery belly gan to slide,
Till he came neere the Salamanders side.
Thou cursed slaue (quoth he) though I proceed
From some of thy neere kin, of serpents seed.
And am halfe serpent, as thou wholly art,
Yet I am halfe a fish; and euen that part
Prouokes me contradict the cursed note,
Which thou didst vomit from thy venomd throat.
Thy Pedigree is lineally deriued
From that great Serpent, which at first depriued
The rest of feet; and being ouer-wise
Gull'd credulous man of glorious paradise.

Still thou partak'st that nature, and each tree,
Thy tongue or teeth touch, so infected be
In root and fruit, that who so eats doth die,
Poyson'd b'accurst, cold infidelitie.
Too light beleefe, and too too earnest thirst
Of curious knowledge, causde death enter first:
But now thy skill hath brought it so about,
That hearing, seeing, feeling, still we doubt.
And flying one extreame, we fondly fall
Into the contrary; wise, fooles, and all.
“Yet blindnesse better is, then hauing eyes,
“Not t'acknowledge truthes, but count them lyes.
“T'is better to be doubtfull what we know,
“Then to be Truthes profest and open foe.
The Mole and the Chameleon better are,
And neerer truth, then thou thy selfe by farre.
Yet the Chameleon somewhat doth resemble
Thy nature, but he can more close dissemble.
He is not so prophane, so impious, bold,
To call all truth in doubt, both new and old;
Though he giues darknesse not the praise he ought,
And too too curious, after knowledge sought:
Yet he confesseth that there is a light
He cannot see, through th'impotence of sight.
But you all light and knowledge do confine
Within the Sunne, as if it were diuine:
And like a desperate traytor, foolish theefe,
From art and nature steale, to kill beleefe.
Come then good fellowes (quoth the Lamprey) take
This monster vp against vs; let vs make
Him an example of our iustice showne,
Vpon Truthes foe, so manifestly knowne.

With that he nimbly twines himselfe about
The Salamander (being quicke and stout:)
Chameleon and the Mole, the Lamprey aide
Which makes the Salamander much dismay'd.
Yet he doth lay about with tongue, teeth, nailes,
And bites them all, but oddes at length preuailes.
And they remaining victors cast him downe
From the steepe cliffe, and so the Atheist drowne.
Then comming backe, they two the Lamprey pray
His wise opinion of their strife to say:
That they may know to which part he enclines
Whether to darknesse, or where splendor shines.
He soone consents, and tells how he (by kinde
Bred and brought vp in mud) is of the minde
The Mole spake truth. For happinesse (quoth he)
“Consists in what we haue, not what we see.
And sight prouokes vs wish, and couet change
And so in boundlesse, endlesse, toyle we range.
“He that knowes most, knowes best what he doth misse,
“The losse of Paradise is only this.
“The simple innocent truth this instance fameth;
“Man in the darke being naked nothing shameth.
Thus he discourst, then tells how he behaues
Himselfe in darknesse, vnderneath the waues.
How he prefers old Ignorance, before
New Knowledge, and (I wot) knowes cause therefore.
Shewes how for this opinion he was brought
Before the Whale, yet long in vaine was sought:
Tells how he scapes the search by many creeks
And winding holes, when Hippia him seeks:
For they (Phœnician Crefishes being swift)
Are Purseuants which he can hardly shift:

Yet he hath learned counsell, who directs
His whole proceeding when he ought suspects.
First subtle Polypus to whom he cleaues,
And seeming part of him the search deceaues.
The turbulent Cuttle, who doth raise the mud,
And such a colour mingle with the flood,
That no eye can discouer where he lies,
And so he often scapes the craftie spies.
Then creepes to stones that lye on silt and sand,
(Not to the corner-stone on stedfast land:)
And if by chance they finde him spite of these,
And so attach him, then he can with ease
Slip through their fingers, or himselfe vnwinde,
By leauing some part of his slime behinde.
He can equiuocate, and double so,
That euery way at once he seemes to go.
Yet once he taken was, and brought to triall,
Where with his doubtfull answers, stiffe deniall,
Low crowching, smoth conueyance, flattering guise
He scap't th'Exchequer, Prison, and th'Assise.
Then being askt, why darker ignorance
Before the light he did in speech aduance.
He answers, first it was to try his wit;
Not that he held it, to be true or fit.
Againe, because small vse of light he had,
He to make some fooles like himselfe was glad.
With these flye answers, and great friends beside,
And faithfull bribes, he did from danger glide:
And such fee'd friends he had in euery Court,
And euery office, at the least report
Of threatned danger rounded him in th'eare
To shift his seat, before the storme came neare.

Then shewes he how the better to disguise
His double face, he had two rowes of eyes:
[illeg.] though he lou'd all knowledge, and all light.
But (quoth he) only two of these haue sight;
The rest are hypocriticall and blind:
{Yet} their appearance calmes the Whales fierce mind
Whose easie nature open to abuse,
[illeg.]akes! shew for substance, colour for excuse.
{I} thus adapt and frame my selfe to follow
The Whales command, although my heart be hollow,
[illeg.] liue at quiet, offices obtaine,
[illeg.]lace in the warres, and in the Coram gaine.
[illeg.]ll which shall turne vnto the Whales destruction:
[illeg.] euer great fish, mooue but insurrection:
[illeg.]or I'le discouer all when time shall fit;
Who trusts a halfe friend, hath not halfe his wit.
Whil'st thus he argu'd, and the Mole grew proud,
To heare affected ignorance allow'd:
And that so many in that large dominion,
Remain'd vpholders of his stiffe opinion.
The thinne Chameleon gan looke bigge and swell,
And each complain'd himselfe he was not well,
But then too late, they found how they were stung
And poyson'd by the Salamanders toung.
There was no helpe, but die they must. In vaine
They weepe; and each to other shew their paine,
Till Iustice did by death their paine conclude,
With tragicke end closing their interlude.

Struthiocamelus.

DEDICATED To the vertuous Knight, Sir Iohn Heueningham, and his charitable Lady.

VVhat on our selues we spend, doth through vs pass
And leaue vs naked, as this Ostrich was:
This makes you on the poore bestow so much,
And no expence but owne your selues to grutch.
A wealthy Marchant late in Barbary,
Through sandy desarts passing; chanc't to spy
An Ostrich eating iron which he found,
By Trauellers scattered vpon the ground:
Quoth then this Merchant; prithee let me know,
What nourishment, can from those mettals grow?
The Ostrich answers; Sir I do not eat
This iron, as you thinke I do, for meate.
I only keepe it, lay it vp in store,
To helpe my needy friends, and friendlesse poore.

I often meete (as farre and neere I goe)
Many a fowndred horse that wants a shooe:
Seruing a Master that is money-lesse:
Such I releeue and helpe in their distresse.
With trauellers I meete that are beset
By theeues and robbers often. Then I beget
My selfe among the thickest, and present
Out of my maw a pistoll ready bent,
A sword and dagger, or some such like toole,
To help the true man, and the theefe to coole.
The Merchant mus'de (as well he might) at this,
And thought within himselfe; this fellow is
Most fit for my imployment, I will straight
Hire him to be my Bailiefe. No deceit
Lurkes in his simple shew; he'le surely keepe,
My plow-yrons, when my lazie hindes do sleepe.
This to the Ostrich motion'd, he agrees,
The wages are set downe, the vailes, the fees,
The liuory, with circumstance enough,
And they come home. And now God speed the plough
The Ostrich carefully laies vp the rakes,
The pitch-forke teines, the yron-pointed stakes,
The wedges, hammer, hatchet, and the nailes,
The sithe, the sickle, and the biles of pailes,
The share, the coulter, heele-yorne, and the cocke,
The whip, the horse-shooe, with the key and locke.
He needs no locke and key to keepe them vnder,
But keeps both lock & key, where you wold wonder.
Then comes into the house, puts vp the gun,
The sword and dagger; and when this is done,
Deuoures the dripping-pan, the cob-irons, spit,
And swallowes all the iron bit by bit.

The Merchant prais'd his fortune, that he had
Got one so good, 'mongst many seruants bad.
Told him he shortly would his state preferre,
From being Bailiffe, to be Treasurer;
For he could not inuent a surer hold,
Then th'Ostrich had for siluer, or for gold.
And now the Merchant leauing one at home,
That he may well trust, goes abroad to rome:
Neglects his house and lands, thinkes all is well,
And as he wont to doe, doth buy and sell.
Mongst other things he sold, because the warres
Began afresh, he truct for yron barres.
For he was one of those that would for gaine:
Sell bullets, where they were shot home againe,
And did our Mines and Woods on Ordnance wast,
Which spite of lawes, he to the Enemie past,
Much yrone he had at home, and sold beside
All kinde of armour fit for such a tide.
So home he comes glad of so good a mart,
For here he knowes the Ostrich playes the part
Of a good Bailiffe. He may easily thriue,
When such a full winde doth his fortune driue.
His land he finds vntill'd, he wonders then
And thinkes the fault rests on his lazy Men.
They say they wanted yrons for the plough,
He wonders, for the Bailiffe had enough.
He findes his house all naked, not a bit
Of meate prepar'd, the Cooke wants pot, and spit.
He goes to bed, the theeues assault his house:
He hath no weapon to resist a Mouse.
He riseth early, lookes for his munition,
The place remaines, no yron in fruition.

His barres are gone, his houshold-stuffe, and all,
Now to account his Bayliffe he doth call.
The Seruants ioyne in their petition first,
And shew their griefes, how hard he was, and curst.
How he kept backe their wages and their meate,
And gaue them worke, but gaue them not to eate.
How he neere hand had made a monstrous neast,
Where whilst they fasted, he and his did feast.
And thither he conuaide the yron worke
Where the she Ostrich and his young did lurke;
Who swallow'd all: for they haue mawes as large
As culuerings, which would as soone discharge
The yron loade; and sooner farre would spend,
And bring a world of wealth to lauish end.
The Ostrich to excuse himselfe bewraies
The place where safely he this yron layes.
Carries him to a priuate hole, where still
He dung'd, when he his maw did ouer-fill.
Quoth he if you can good distinction make,
Each seuerall peece you may from hence vptake.
The plow-geares, cart-geares, and the toole for war,
Spits, pots, and cobirons, here together are.
Each wedge, knife, hammer, and the smallest naile,
Drawne lymbick wise through stomacke, guts & taile
It's a rare chymicall extraction now,
Better then all the drugs the Mount-bankes show.
It passeth our elixar, or the stone
Sought for by many, but attaind by none.
Th'obstruction of the Liuer, and the spleene,
It opens, mollifies, and purgeth cleane.
A secret t'is assured, for madnesse, folly,
Wild iealousie, and cloudy melancholly,

It cures the Gout, and qualifies the cause,
Suppling a hide-bound purse like th'oile of lawes:
It dries vp humours, humours that abound,
And mans weake body it makes safe and sound.
The merchant stood amaz'd, but at the last,
He seazde vpon the Ostrich, held him fast:
Made him be tide behinde a horse, and stript,
(His buttocks bare as now they be) and whipt.
Ransackt his neast, and brake before his face
His egs, though his poore Hen in hope of grace,
Did sue for their repriuall. But in vaine,
He lookes to finde his Iron there againe.
Which missing he proceedes, exiles him quite,
And then vpon his gate this note doth write.
Let Rich-men wisely feare,
All such as feathers weare,
It's lost whats'ere they borrow,
And soone their mawes goes thorow:
The substance they consume
To nought but smoke and rheume;
But th' vse they neuer faile
To pay with tongue and taile.
The Ostrich euer since his breeches lost,
Goes like a naked rogue at whipping post.
He hates a horse to death since he was stript,
And for his fault, ti'de at his taile and whipt.
He hides his egges, and couers them from sight,
Lest man should find & break them. Thus they write.

ONOCROTALVS.

DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT hopefull Knight, Sir Thomas Sovthvvell.

Your name hath long been mist, now fairely rise
And make your Country flourish. All our eyes
Are cast vpon your actions; then on vs
Reflect your loue. Shun Onocrotalus.
VVhilome within the Persian gulfe did haunt
A fowle much like our greedy Cormorant,
Cal'd Onocrotalus, who vsde to prey,
On fish, or fowle, or beast which past his way.
He had a crop vnder his bosome wide,
In compasse like a sacke, and thereto side.

Much harme and spoile he did, for none could passe
But fild his pouch, if bird, beast, fish, it was.
At length th'oppressed birds, with fish, and beast,
Petition to their Soueraignes, and request
Aide and protection gainst the open wrong,
This tyrant daily did, and had done long.
The beasts vnto the Lyon made complaint.
Birds to the Eagle. Fishes did acquaint
The Seas great Emperour the Whale. with griefe,
They all sustain'd, and all implor'd reliefe.
Long was it ere they could be heard, for still,
The Cormorant, (for so we call him will)
Had many friends in euery Court, which he
Maintainde with large shares, and full liberall fee.
For still his gorge full laden, ready stood,
And when they mist else-where they here had food:
Food of each kinde, for euery stomacke fit,
And such as fauorites were, had part of it.
Long thus he put them off, yet at the last,
By counter-bribes, their weake petitions past.
The Eagle first did seeke him, and he found,
The theefe where he would wish, vpon the ground,
Quoth he, well met, are you the fowle that prey,
Vpon our harmlesse subiects night and day,
That none can this way passe and vse his trade,
But is a subiect to your fury made?
Not I sir (quoth the Cormorant) I am one,
That liue in contemplation all alone.
This poke I begge with, to sustaine my need,
And I no fowle am but a beast indeed.
Quoth then the Eagle, wherefore serue thy wing?
O (quoth the Cormorant) thou mighty king

Of feathered fowles, these two are my forefeet,
Held vp to honor thee, with reuerence meete.
And that thou maist be full resolu'd, and know.
That I vnto the Lyon duty owe,
As subiects to their Soueraignes, not to thee,
Without thou wilt vsurpe authoritie,
And into other neighbour Realmes incroch
(Which to thy Iustice were a fowle reproch)
Heare but my voice. With that he steps aside,
And in the water thrusts his wezand wide,
And like an Asse gan bray. The Eagle straight
Hearing his voice, suspected no deceit,
But past away to seeke what now he saw.
When the late noyse he made did thither draw
The kingly Lyon, who did hunt about,
As th'other did to finde th'oppressor out.
And when he spide him; What art thou quoth he
The beast gainst whom so many plaine to me?
O noble Lyon, quoth the Cormorant,
I am a fish, the water still I hant.
And here I take my food, and lead my life,
Free from oppression, and each cause of strife.
Why, quoth the Lyon, now I heard thee bray
Like to an Asse. True, True, my Lord ye say,
(Quoth this smooth hypocrite) for I would faine
Be like an Asse, so innocent and plaine.
I loue beasts well, and next your excellence,
The humble Asse, for still his patience.
And now to put your highnesse out of doubt,
Behold me swimme and diue, (so launcht he out
Far from the Lyons reach) If beasts quoth he,
Can swimme and diue thus, I a beast may be.

With that he diues, saying, Sir fare you well,
Your faire commends to the King Whale I'le tell.
The Lyon parted thence; the Whale that way
Had sought this Monster all the liue-long day;
And seeing such an vncouth thing glide past,
Within his Kingdome, with such nimble hast;
He call'd and bad him stay, and will'd him tell,
If he were Onocrotalus, that fell
And cruell murtherer, who hauocke made
Of all that in that wealthy Rode did trade?
O mighty Emperour (aloud he cri'de)
I hardly scap't euen now his cursed pride
For being by my noble Master sent,
(The Eagle King of fowles) you to present
With birds and other iunkets in my crop,
He needs would me from your glad presence stop;
And but he heard you comming, I surmise,
His lawlesse force had made me lawfull prize.
Quoth then the Whale, I search to meete that slaue.
But what art thou that canst so well behaue,
Thy tayle and nimble fins? Art not a fish?
That I were such (quoth he) it is my wish.
I like thy milder reigne where subiects say,
For loue, and not for dread, they thee obey.
And would arm'd in white scales, if I might choose
Serue thee a fish, and my blacke feathers loose.
But Nature this forbids; yet still I striue,
Euen from my youth, fish-like to swim and diue:
And vnderstand their language, and conuerse
With them whose ciuill manners, are lesse fierce
Then beasts or birds be. For they drinke far more
And eat much lesse, then we doe on the shore.

This drinking I delight in, and haue tride,
By all good meanes to make my belly wide.
Yet see, I am a fowle. So vp he hies,
And takes his wings with speede, and far thence flies?
The Whale then found his cunning and straight sent
A priuy letter of his close intent,
Both to the Eagle and the Lyon stout,
To meet and ioyne, and finde this Out-law out.
They met, and ioynd, and then this Out-law found
Nor in the Sea, nor yet vpon the ground:
Nor flying in the aire, but in a hold,
A hollow tree, whose strength made braggard bold.
They spoke him faire, but he discerned plaine,
Their drift, and cride: Faire words make Idiots faine.
They threatned him, but threats he doth deride,
And saith, by threatning words none euer dyde.
The Eagle would haue ventred on his neast,
But he his bill held right vpon his breast,
Like a stiffe souldiers pike, sharpe, long, and armd;
And no way but right downe he could be harmd.
The Lyon would haue torne with teeth and nailes
The tree vp by the roote, but wanted sailes
To swim so farre, for it in waters stood.
The Whale then thought to tosse it in the flood,
But in a rocke it grew, and growing so,
He bad them do their worst, he fear'd no foe.
They saide, they would besiedge and starue him out;
He laught amaine, and shew'd how gainst that doubt
He was prouided, hauing store to serue
So long, till if they staid, they all would starue.
Then each bethought himselfe of many a wile
And war-like stratagem, how to beguile

This politique Rebell, and to force him yield
Or starue within, or venter to the field.
All workes the ayre, the water, or the land
Did ere produce, these Captaines vnderstand:
But none found able to enforce his strength:
The warlike Lyon yet conceiu'd at length
How to effect it. Great confederates heare,
(Quoth he) what I propound. There's nought I feare
But what I speake of. Once I did rebell
Against out Generall Soueraigne Man: to tell
This fault doth touch my honour, but you all,
I know haue been co-partners in my fall,
And his most gracious pardon. Then, O then
I kept within my fort, a hideous den
Caru'd out of rocke it was; and no way he
Could force me out, or make assault on me.
At last with indignation mou'd, he takes
A mighty flint vp, and with hurling, breakes
The same against a rocke, which flying sings,
And sparkles from the ayre betwixt them springs
As from a red-hot yron, when a Smith
With heauy hammer beats it on a stith.
Neere hand he had before laid leaues with rosse
From Okes torne with a Northern blast, and mosse
Dride in the parching Sun: and wood which dide
By killing age, and stood my den beside.
The sparks inflam'd this stuffe, which in the mouth
Of my darke Caue he plac'd: the winde then South
Forc'd in the smoke, and this ayre-thickning smoke
Infor'd me thus, either come out or choke.

The issue you remember: this alone
Must be our proiect now; or Art hath none.
Hie therefore braue-bird brother, quickly take
Twixt your strong tallents this great flint, and make
Experience of my plot. Mount with it hie
And let it fall, that fire may from it flie:
Which kindled once, fan gently with your wing,
And cherish with soft breath: then let the king
Of fishes with his mighty nostrels puffe
Till it flames fiercely, and burnes hot enough.
This counsell they applaud; but th'Eagle thought
How purer, hotter, flames might soone be fought:
And vp he nimbly sores the milke-white way,
Where (being a minion knowne) he findes no stay;
Each dore flies ope alone, till to the eare
Of mighty Ioue he gets, and let him heare
His businesse and his suite, which was for fire
And thunderbolts; Ioue grants his full desire.
Downe quickly he descends and makes a traine
About the place where this theefe doth remaine:
Then powder he applies vnto the root
Oft' hollow tree, and thence the slaue doth shoot.
He shoots him thence into the ayre as hye,
As th'Eagles selfe could follow with his eye.
And downe he comes and doth descend the deep,
Where the still Center doth no motion keep.
Then vp againe aboue the swelling maine,
He bounds, there floting without sense or paine.
And ere he can recouer labouring breath,
That's loth to part, the Whale from vnderneath

The traytor doth attach, and straightway brings
To be arrayn'd before the other Kings.
Him they examine, but he will confesse
No truth, but what they know as he doth ghesse.
Then they doe racke him (being rent before)
Yet he no truth, but many a lye doth rore.
Till with the violent torture and constraint,
Life almost failing, and with sufferings faint,
His gorge he vomits and bewraies with paine
The truth, for which they sought so long in vaine.
And first (preposterously) he casteth out,
All slimy lubricke meats, Eele, Gudgeon, Trout;
The Citie heires, Gilt-head and Golden-eye,
Belonging to the Sea-kings soueraignty.
And with this euidence conuict, the tryall
Proceeds to proue him guilty in denyall
Of farther wrongs done. The Wood-cocke, Parret,
The Goose, the Dotterell, Iack-daw prone to parret,
The Sea-gull and the Cinclos weake and friendlesse,
And of poore widdow-Turtles numbers endlesse,
With diuers subiects to the royall Eagle,
He doth as easily voide, as erst inueagle.
Yet still vnto the Lyon he denies
Himselfe a trespasser, but all those lyes
He lately made, and late was taken in,
Afford presumption of his farther sinne.
For which againe they racke him one pin higher,
And then he vtters more then they desire.
A foolish Cony, and an innocent Lambe,
A credulous Calfe new weaned from the dam,
And yet in wardship; a ridiculous Mouse
For feare of Cats leauing her sheltring house:

And last of all, (for which the Lyon greeued)
A Hare, from execution oft repreeued.
All these with easie vtterance, doth declare
That he did fowle, nor beast, nor fishes spare
But preide on all, and so became a prey
To the Eagle, Whale, and Lyon, eu'ry way.
Which prou'de and made by demonstration plaine,
Beyond the power of impudence to faine:
He then excepts against th'vndue proceeding,
They in his apprehension vsde, not heeding
The law of Nations, but by force constraining
(Himselfe) an others subiect, remaining
In peace, and league with them, to be arrayn'd
Like to a Traytor, and with tortures payn'd.
He saith the place he kept in was without
Their iurisdiction, and he made no doubt
To proue it with large priuiledges blessed
A sanctuarie for the poore distressed.
They slight his cauils; And the Whale demands
In whose vnknowne, strange gouernment it stands
If not in one of theirs? For ayre, earth, sea,
And all they haue (but Man and what Mans be),
Doe properly belong to one of these,
Who may dispose of all, as they best please.
I pray then (quoth the Cormorant) relate
To whose Emperiall crowne, and to whose state,
My enuy'd neast belongs? which of you three
Claime th'interest as Lord by right of fee?
For if it proper be to one, the rest
Haue done much wrong, t'vsurp his interest
Whose it should be. This question he did make
Hoping thereby their setled loues to shake

By couetous ambition, whilst they all
Would make their claimes, and so asunder fall.
But the foreseeing Eagle bids him minde
His owne affaires, and not to thinke t'vnwinde
The snares true Iustice laies about his life,
But interposing such slight cause of strife
Betwixt such firme friends, in strong league combinde
And with all strength of entercourse entwinde.
And yet to satisfie this curious doubt,
Know (quoth the Eagle) that being hem'd about
With floting waters, it belongs to him
Who gouerns all that in the waters swim.
But as it on the stedfast earth doth stand,
It longs to him that is the king of land.
And the large tree which spreads his spacious bowes
In th'open ayre, within my kingdome growes.
Thy neast thus longs to all of vs, thy food
Stolne from our subiects, in th'ayre, earth, flood:
And thou thy selfe must needs, if thou beest either
Beast, bird, or fish, be one of ours; if neither,
Say what thou art, or whose thou art; for all
But Man and Monsters in this number fall.
Then (quoth the Cormorant) I doe belong
Vnto the fearefull Dragon, whose blacke tongue
Threats death to each of you, and keeps in awe
Your humbler spirits, making his will your law,
He is the king of serpents, whose strong breath
Confounds your strength with all-subduing death.
He rules the vpper region, purging fire
Which searcheth hell, and doth to heau'n aspire.
This, this alone it was which I obay'd
When that strong law vnto my neast you layd.

But you that sprightly power by intrusion
Falsely vsurpt to my deuout confusion.
Fire onely to the Dragon doth belong;
To him, and vnto me, you haue done wrong.
To him I doe appeale; and haue resort
In this great cause to his infallible Court.
This speech inflam'd their hearts with heat & scorne
To be confronted thus, thus ouerborne
By a base villaine who did proudly brag on
The free protection of their foe the Dragon.
So with a full resolue, they all agree
Each for himselfe and his reueng to bee.
The Lyon takes, feet, head and throat away:
With those he walk't and like an Asse did bray.
The Eagle seaseth on his wings and taile,
With these he bird-like in the ayre did saile.
The Whale his body swallowes at a bit
Which he vs'de fish-like, diu'd and swam with it.
Thus Traytor-like hee's quarter'd out and caru'd;
Would land and water Pyrats were so seru'd.

Epimythium.

The water Pyrat euery one doth know
They rob our Marchants, and allegeance owe
To no command; dutie to none will giue,
But out-lawes, like the sea wherein they liue.
Our Pyrats on the land haue sundry kinds,
And sundry obiects. Our goods, bodies, minds.
Law-state-Church Pyrats, when no Church, state, law,
Can their irregular liues to fashion draw.

The first pretending gouernment of all,
And freeing such as into danger fall;
Doe kill in curing, and oppresse with easing
Both the delinquent, and the free displeasing.
The second guard our land from forraigne force,
Whilst they themselues (perhaps) afflict vs worse.
Strangers may not deuoure vs, yet we are
By peace eat vp, more then we wont by warre.
The third are of two kinds; our owne and others,
Who not in doctrine, but in fact are brothers.
Our owne feed few (for the dumb dog still lurches)
They'le not teach one, but swallow many Churches:
They vnto ignorance our soules betray,
And to seducing diuells giue silent way.
The other knowes, no king, but knowes their subiects,
And faines to reconcile, but make them abiects.
No place is priuileg'd, no law, no Nation:
For all the world his parish is and station.
Rome giues him licence, and although he swim
In the whole sea, there is no roome for him.
He cries where s'ere he comes; Al's mine, giue room;
And if it be opposde a fatall doom
Becomes his vsher. Kings must kisse his foot,
If curses, pistolls, poyson, hell can doo't;
But if nor these, nor hell, then Faux more skilfull
Will charme the open earth, blow vp the wilfull.
These Cormorants my bleare-eyde Muse hath spide:
But there are many Cormorants beside.

The ASSE.

DEDICATED. TO THE LEARNED and iudicious Knight Sr. Hamond Le-Strange.

Some beasts are ominous some birds are so,
But Massolanus and your selfe say no.
Hee slew the Augurs bird; My silly Asse.
May to a wise-man without perill passe.
Although in Italy, in France, and Spaine,
And all those hotter Regions, there remaine
Great store of Asses? and with vs but few,
Saue some that our late Trauellers do shew.
And though the Pope and Romane Clergie ride
In euery lowly, patient, humble pride
Vpon these beasts, or on their bastards rather,
As fits each single, simple, holy father.

I would not haue you thinke my meaning such
A beast of theirs or of our owne to touch.
The Asse I talke of, bred in Thessaly
Came to a country man, a neighbour by
And made great mone, that euery sauage beast
In woods and fields, the greatest and the least
Misus'de him, wrongd him, made it all their sport
To trouble him, who had no remedy for't.
The Man seemde pittifull, enclind to good,
And gaue the Asse aduice to leaue the wood,
To dwell with him who able was and strong,
His weake Retainers to protect from wrong.
True (quoth the Asse) your wit, your strength I know,
But how can I deserue the grace and shew?
What benefit or pleasure whilst I liue
Can I doe you, who must my liuelyhoood giue?
Quoth Man, for my protection, and my meat
You shall affoard me but your dung and sweat,
Those excrements t'inrich and lust my ground,
That it with corne and vintage may abound.
And when I chance to trauell farre and nye,
You like a friend, shall beare me company.
The Asse was glad the couenants were so good,
And straight agrees, nor long consulting stood.
The articles were drawne, read openly,
Sealed and deliuered interchangable.
And home they goe, and long together dwelt
Without repentance; neither greeuance felt.
But man in innocence remain'd not long,
And since is apt to doe all innocence wrong.
Sure here it fell out so. The crafty Man
Wo say and vnsay, lye, and cauill can,

Went to the Asse, and (all inrag'd) demands?
Why all that while he had not dung'd his lands?
Sir (quoth the Asse) such compasse as I yield
I haue with daiely care laid in your field.
True (quoth the Man) but that will not suffice
To dung my ground, that plenty may arise;
Yet so you vndertooke. Then out of hand
See you prouide enough to serue my land.
And yeeld what you keepe backe good store of sweat
Or Ile giue store of blowes, but not of meat.
The Asse finds he is wrong'd, but sees not how
To right himselfe; weake men to stronger bow.
He does what man commands, and rather more
Till Man grows rich, and so grows proud, with store.
Then man must trauaile, must his kinsfolke see
And other countries how they fashion'd be.
The Asse must goe with him, so 'twas agreed
To beare him company. Well mote they speed,
The Man a saddle sets vpon his backe,
A halter on his head, which wit doth lacke.
What meane you master (quoth the simple Asse)
These will but make me weary as I passe?
Foole (quoth the Man) thinke you ile haue my Page,
Not suited to the fashions of this age?
I should be sham'd to see you neere me stand,
Without a cloake, and bout your neck a band.
Proud was the silly Asse, to heare he stood
So high in fauour, and doth onward skud
With willing pace, not like a sleepy snaile,
But tossing of his eares, winching his taile.
Long trauailde they, till to a brook they came,
Wherein a many siluer fishes swam.

A bridge was neere, but Man withheld his eye,
And would not see the bridge, some reason why.
The Asse went through the water: quoth he then,
All beasts are far more happier than all Men.
You are by nature safely cloth'd, and armde,
Gainst cold, heat, drought, and wet; we easly harmde
With any small annoyance. You are free,
And gainst all these extreames must patient be.
The Asse being prais'd, vpon no ground stood still,
But must turne backe againe to shew his skill,
To boast his valour, let his Master know
All his good parts, and seruices arow.
Now sir, quoth he, you on my backe I'le beare,
Safe o're this water. Get vp, nothing feare.
The Man leapt lightly vp. Dissimulation
“Doth neither stirrup need, nor great perswasion.
The Asse doth quickly passe the Riuer. Then
He stayes, and prayes him light. No, (saith the Man)
Proceed vpon your iourney you can beare,
I dare not light, to fall I stand in feare.
I'le kneele then (quoth the Asse) and down he kneels,
The Man straight raisde him with his whip and heels.
O Master (quoth the Asse) you promisde meat,
Your couenant giues no liberty to beat.
Foole (quoth the Man) the word expresly meant,
Wages for worke implies a punishment
For sluggishnesse and sloth; make haste away,
Our businesse and the time permits no stay.
So on they goe, till th' Asse now almost tyred,
Askt pitty of the Man, and ease desired,
That he would daigne a little while to light.
The Man denide it, and then laught out-right.

And doubled blowes with whip, with heele, & staffe.
O tyrant (quoth the Asse) dost fight and laugh?
Are these th'effects of promises and words?
Is this the peace your law, bond, faith, affords?
Keep you your couenants thus? O man thinke how
You make vs traytors, when you, breake your vow.
Why (quoth the Man) my couenants are vnbroke,
I haue performde whatsere I wrote or spoke.
I giue you meat, my meaning likevvise vvas,
To giue you blovves, if that you plaide the Asse.
I was to haue your excrements and sweat.
I cannot haue those but by vvorke and heat,
Therefore I ride you. You were to attend
In all my iourneyes on me like a friend.
And vvhat is liker to a friend I pray,
Then a mans drudge, that toyles both night & day?
That carries him through thicke and thin vvith paine,
And a sure stud for all turnes doth remaine?
O (quoth the Asse) the vvorld vvas neuer good,
Since other on mentall reseruation stood.
I only vvas to beare you company,
True (quoth the Man) to beare, that's carry me.
O damn'd equiuocation, vvho at first,
(quoth the poore Asse) this double Doctrine nurst?
No Merchant, Tradesman, Lavvyer, nor Diuine,
Though much frō truth they warp, frō grace decline,
Could be the authors of this ample euill,
But truthes professed foe, that iugling deuill.
That Diuell who taught it first, and practiz'd too,
In paridise, vnto our generall woe.
That Diuell which doth renue in euery age,
By this alone his kingdome and image.

For without this his kingdome would decay,
And without this his image weare a way.
This onely murthers truth, opposeth faith,
Deceiuing, whether true or false it saith.
If true we dare not trust it fearing ill.
If false, like truth it looks, and tempts vs will.
Quoth Man, thou preachest well; and well mightst passe
Couldst thou speake Latin too, to say a Masse.
Thy folly was in fault rashly to draw,
Thy articles without aduice at law.
There wanted stops, pricks, letters, here and there,
And by your leaue some words the truth to cleere.
Nay quoth the Asse, had euery word, stop, letter,
Been left vnwritten my estate were better.
This is the plague, when power expoundeth lawes
Not as the truth requires, but as the cause.
When euery letter may an error breed,
To helpe the rich, and begger such as need.
When tyrants do capitulate and treat
Not to conclude, but to deceiue and cheat.
When your false minds are candi'de ore with words
As your gay sheathes conceale your bloody swords.
Now (quoth the Man) I thinke that Balaams Asse,
Or golden Apuly's, thy Tutor was.
Thou art so eloquent, so learned, witty,
As if thou hadst been taught in Athens Citty.
In Athens? (quoth the Asse) now I espie,
You speake no truth, but when yee thinke to lie.
I was a Cockny once, of noble blood,
Traind vp in Athens Court, and in the flood
of pleasure, bathde my youth, (but not in Art,)
Which causde this transformation, teares, and smart.

Yet went our Master, and was well allowde.
(With many of my kin) in that thicke crowde,
When Philip did so learnedly dispute,
And made Demosthenes with wonder mute.
I was in fauour then, and then did passe,
For braue and wise, though now I be an Asse.
For no Man ought to iudge by forme, or face,
By fauour, or imployment, or by place,
Which are the wise and foolish. Dunces oft
“Passe by great doctors. Baboones leap aloft.
And they may proue like me, (liue to be switcht,)
If they my fortune meet, to be bewitcht.
How I bewitched was, you now shall heare.
There is no true accomplisht Caualere,
That hath not trauailde. And the'rs few of these,
Which scape bewitching, passing ouer Seas.
When I first trauail'd, my braue Spirit did moue,
T'attempt great Ladies and to purchace loue.
I purcha'st loue so long, till all I had,
Was purcha'st from me, and my selfe full glad,
To leaue both Court and Citie, and to try,
A better Country fortune to espie.
With much much toyle, and many courtly shifts,
At length I did arriue mongst craggy clifts,
And barraine rocks, t'a smoaky house which stood
Alone, besides a fearefull desart wood.
There with a wither'd witch I long time staid,
A Bel-dame that had been Medeaes maid.
She turn'd me to an Asse that very day,
Th'Odcombian wit, did odly scape away,
He may his good shooes praise, pray for his heeles,
By those he scap't. And yet I feare he feeles,

His braine, was turning, if he euer passe
That way againe, he will turne perfect Asse.
And so will many more as well as I,
Except they stop their eares, as they passe by.
No (quoth the Man) this is a pretty fable,
Fitting the end, so neere vnto the stable.
Ile now alight, we two are perfect friends,
My iourney and thy tale together ends.
So they went in to rest, but euer since,
The Man mounts on the Asse, although he wince.
There is no remedy, and he must obay,
That's sadled, bridell'd, and bound euery way.
He might haue look'd before he made his match:
Now ti's too late, when time was past to watch.
Yet euer since he letters hates and learning,
When ther's no fault in them, but his discerning.
He shunneth water too, all that he can,
The cause which made him first a slaue to Man.

CVRIALE.

Dedicated TO the good acceptance of Master Flyode, Admirall to the Queenes Maiestie, and of her Counsell.

The Court from Flies and fleas you cannot free,
Whilst such sweet meates, good fires, soft beds there be:
Yet guard your eyes and eares well, for we know,
Princes both heare and see by such as you.
The Flie and Flea hauing in Court got place,
Saw all such Courtiers as were chiefe in grace.
Still present with the King: how in his eare
For being busie, some rewarded were:
Others they saw get wealth with standing nie:
But none did thriue that were not in his Eye.
They thought since these alone grew rich and braue,
They would as nimbly too themselues behaue.

That they were black could be no hindrance thought,
For many blacke gownes their preferment sought.
But their ambition reacht t'ingrosse all grace,
And shoulder others from so wisht a place,
And thus resolu'd, the Flea leapes vp aloft,
And in the Kings eare falls with footing soft.
The foolish Flie did mount with speedy wing
Betwixt the Eye-lids of th'amazed King;
Who with his nimble hand did apprehend
The rusticke Courtiers, and their hopes soon end.
Quoth he, Ye saucy Traytors, Dare ye thus
Presume our presence neuer cald by vs?
Or being come, Is there no other place
In all our Court to please you, but our face?
And in our face no roome can you espie,
But our reserued eare? our tender eye?
In all my kingdomes you might freely range,
And varied pleasures euery minute change
Without my perturbation: only heere
Your boldnesse you shall both with life buy deere.
And though the Eagle takes no Fleaes nor Flyes
Yet for presumption both by th' Eagle dyes.

SOLARJUM.

Dedicated. To the absolute and open enemies of Jgnorance and Darknesse, and the true Louers and Followers of Light and Knowledge, Sr. Iohn Crosts and his happy LADY.

The Clock that chim'de your praise, went right for still
The Diall rulde his tongue the Sunne his Will.
And as these led him right, you follow may,
To heauenly glory, through the Milk-white-way.
In some part of the World, I know not where,
But sure Sr Thomas Mardeuile was there.
Betwixt a Clocke and a Sunne-dyall fell
A difference which I with sorrow tell.
With sorrow, for this error calls to minde
Th'vncertainty, which we in Story finde;

Where computations crosse, and make vs doubt
Of what we all seeke, cannot one finde out.
How to agree, and reconcile th'obscure,
The fabulous, and certaine Age of our.
The Age obscure; is that before the Floud:
The Fabulous, on fained Wonders stood
The race of gods, on golden Legends told,
Where for sad truths, mad fictions were enrold.
This latter Age more plaine and cleere, we call
The certaine Age, or th' Age Historicall.
Yet houres, and dayes, and yeeres haue sure been lost
In some of these, which our accounts haue crost.
And so they easily might, when from the Sunne
To lying Clocks for our accounts we runne.
This tale makes all apparant, or at least,
Makes probable, what some haue thought a ieast.
Within a Churchyard once a Dyall stood
Vpon a square hewne Marble, which the Flood
In vaine with enuious waues had often sought
To spoile, when it the whole world vnder brought.
But Seth's wise sonnes had fastned it so sure,
It could all stormes, and stresse of times endure.
And thereon they had caru'd the Art, and lore
They learned of their Grandsire long before.
Vpon a Church or steeples side neere hand
A goodly Clocke of curious worke did stand;
Which ouer paysde with lead or out of frame,
Did time miscall, and euery houre misname.
The Dyall hearing this, aloud gan cry
Kinde neighbour Clocke your glib tongue tells a lye.
Reforme your error, for my Gnomon saith
You gad too fast, and misse an houres faith.

Foole (quoth the Clocke) reforme thy selfe by me,
The fault may rather in thy Gnomon be.
Had'st thou tould euer truth, to what end then
Was I plac'de here, by th'art of cunning Men?
The weather-Cocke vpon the steeple standing
And with his sharpe eye all about commanding,
Heard their contention, wil'd them to appeale
To him the Chiefe of all that Common-weale.
Told them that he was set to Ouersee
And to appease, to guide and to agree
All diff'rence in that place; and whatso'ere
He setteth downe from Iustice cannot erre.
For from the winde he information takes
Which searcheth through the world, & swiftly makes
A true suruay of euery proofe and cause,
And doth of Reason know the ground, and lawes.
He bids them boldly speake, and bring their pleas,
And hee'le define th'infallible truth with ease.
The Dial then beginnes. The globe-like world
From Center to Circumf'rence being whorl'd
In neuer-resting motion, maketh time
In sundry reuolutions fall and clime.
This Time the measure of all mutable things
Comes with lead-heeles, flies hence with fiery wings;
Sleepes with two eyes, hath two eyes euer waking,
Twixt minuts, hours, daies, nights, distinction making
And though the diff'rence and degrees of change,
In seuerall yeares, be wonderfull and strange;
Some by the Moone, some reckoning by the Sunne,
And some the great yeare, whē th'heauens hauing run
Their compleat course, doe to that point arriue
Whence the first mouer, them did motion giue;

Yet the most generall certaine count of all
Is measur'd by the Sunne, whose rise and fall
Makes day, and night, and noone, and midnight too,
Spring, Summer, Winter, Autumne, and the two
Solsticiums, Equinoctials, and the houres
Now naked, and then deck't in gaudy flowers.
This Adam to his Grandsons hauing told,
With other Arts, and wonders manifold,
How all the world both fire and flood should try;
They plac'd me here, to tell posterity
Such hidden mysteries; And to direct
The wiser Soules deep-diuing intellect.
About me they haue grau'd seauen liberall Arts,
The Sciences, with their diuiner parts,
A circle and a Gnomon set aboue
With Characters; which as the Sunne doth moue
In his ascent, or low declension, tells
The certaine houre, degree, and all things else.
But for my speech was slow, and cause the Sunne
Did often vnder clouds for pleasure runne,
Succeeding ages did this Clocke out finde
T'attend on me, and to declare my minde,
From me intelligence and rules ro gather
To measure night, close stormes, and cloudy weather:
And in the Morne, finding his reckoning wrong,
By my straight rule, to tune and set his song.
But this forgetfull Clocke at randome strikes,
Not as I bid, but fondly what it likes:
Robs short-liu'de Man of his most precious time,
And orderlesse, doth others orders chime.
It will not follow me, but wanting wit,
VVould haue the Sunne and Me to waite on it.

This matter so apparant, though I might
Wild Weather-Cocke, except against your right
To iudge, and thinke you partiall at the least,
Since you o're-cloude me when the Sun comes West,
And will take part with it, that's in the name,
In nature, and in sight, almost the same
With you; yet know I'le not refuse
Thy censure, but high place with honour vse.
Thus did the Dyal end, and then the Clocke
Low-louting to the powder Weather-Cocke,
Began his plea. Thou mighty Soueraigne
VVhich doest the vniuersall Iudge remaine
In all those places, where thy pearcing eye
Can see, or my shrill voice be heard to cry.
Behold this impudent, poore, neglected post
How it gainst me, and gainst thy stare doth bost
Embasing thy great worth, neglecting mine;
As if the glorious Sunne did neuer shine,
Nor his sweet influence on vs let fall,
But that the Dial had ingrost vp all.
VVhen all the world knowes thou wer't placed there
The sleepy Hinde vp to his worke to reare,
To call the Scholler to his booke, and wake
The Theefe which at thy shrill voice gins to shake.
Thou art the cheerefull dayes Embassador,
In whose praise once these lines composed were.
A crowned King, a compleat Knight,
An armed Captaine, fit to fight,
A plumed Courtier, fairely clad,
A louer that was neuer sad,
A Trumpetter, the house-wifes Mate,
Who riseth early sleepeth late,

A Querister, the poore mans Clocke,
All this is our great Weather-Cocke.
This sacred Antheme all the world doth sing
To thee the Suns bird, who doth tidings bring,
Of his approch and rising: as for me
I heere was seated, next thee in degree
To giue thee ease, to tell the wondring people
What thou discouer'st from that loftie steeple,
The whil'st thou keep'st thy voice from Iubiles,
And art for silence honour'd with large fees.
The Dial is my ward, first placed there
That Common Persons who presume not neere
Thy hallow'd throne, may haue intelligence
And learne from me the close and hidden sence
Of all those Characters, and not expound
As lift themselues, darke riddles, so profound:
Nor contradict, nor yet correct by force,
According to the Gnomon, my true course;
But the false Gnomon rather to correct
By my aduice, whose way is still direct.
Who knowes not, that the Sun in his round race,
Many degrees is gone from his first place,
And like a drunkard reeling to and fro,
With giddy steps doth shift his circle so;
That where he was euen now, he comes no more,
His course is all confusde, behin'ds before?
Needs must the Dial then deceiued be,
Which trusts a Guide that doth so disagree
Within it selfe, and without iudgement shines
Alike on all, making of fooles Diuines.
And teaching Fishermen to see as farre,
As learned Shepheards, without other starre.

Too common in this Guide, to guide aright;
Or if he could, where is the Guide for night?
I then am present still at euery neede
Poore erring man, in ignorant night to leade.
Then why should this bold Dial, dare to speake
Against my greatnesse, or the orders breake
Of custome and consent? since all make choice
To feede, fast, pray, or play, led by my voice?
And that all bargaines made, all wagers laide,
Not by the Dial but the Clocke are paide?
Which truth, whilst all the world dare neuer doubt,
This Dial seemes to question, and (growne stout)
Excepts against thy iudgement too, that thus
He might be free and seeme to gouerne vs.
But since our causes are so neere of kinne,
Let that respect some grace and fauour winne
With thy high holinesse, that thou maist see
To giue iust sentence for your selfe and me.
The weather-Cocke thrice turn'd himselfe about,
As taking care to minde the matter out;
And thrice return'd, as if he were as free
From preiudice, as from integritie.
Then thrice hee claps his wings (which courage showes)
And thrice aloude his senslesse sentence crowes.
To giue a reason, wherefore, how, and what,
When, where, by whom, or fondly this or that,
Might argue reference to higher power;
But what is he whose place doth equall our?
We are the rule of reason, truths cleare law.
Heare then with reuerence, and obey with awe.
Without more question, argument, or triall,
The iudgement I pronounce against the Dial.

The Dial shall be guided by the Clock.
This is the sentence of the weather-Cock.
Which when the Clock had heard (puft vp with pride)
He ginnes the wronged Dial to deride;
And sits his tongue at large, too much, too soone;
Twelu times he fetch'd his breath, & laugh'd out none.
The Dial then with indignation moued
By this inuectiue speech their fault reproued.
Poore silly Clock (quoth he) reioyce thy fill,
Time will reforme thy ignorant zeale with skill,
Stay thy distempered course, which hurried now,
By mad-braind humor, goes it knowes not how.
Time that's my pupill, shall thy Tutor be,
And teach a diff'rence twixt thy selfe and me;
Then thou wilt know thy error, and recant
That euer thou wert proud of so much want.
But as for thee (thou iudge corrupt and base,
Who bindst all knowledge Prentise to thy place)
Know this, th'all-seeing Sunne thy folly knowes,
And to each vulgar eye thy shaddow showes,
That they may plainly see how poore thou art
Thy head deform'd, defectiue euery part.
And that those high prerogatiues of state
You challenge proper to your selfe, are late
Vpstart intrusions, vsurpations new;
Forg'd by the force or flattery of some few.
The promise which you boast, to haue the winde
Blow where you list, and alter when you minde,
Is false, and foolish; but 'twas promisde still
To blow and guide you right, if that you will.
And so it doth, so it doth others too,
If they consent, not whether they will or no.

For when they would the point and quarter know
Where it doth breath, on me they looke; I show
The truth to them and thee, if you looke right,
If not, you are misled by your owne sight.
But how can'st thou others from error keepe
When as thy selfe foulded in error deepe,
Shun'st reformation, and wilt neither minde,
My graue directions, nor the powerfull wind?
I can remember, long before thou Wert
When wise Alcedo stood where as thou art.
He calm'd all stormes, and pacified the wind
To patient sufferance, bent his humble minde.
He to the fisher, and the Seaman gaue
Directions, how their storme-tost barke to saue.
When by the Lee-shore, when to lanch the Maine,
And when to lie at Hull, when to remaine
In harbour Anchor-fast, and when to saile
With a full winde, and when againe to vaile:
How, where and when, to cast their nets, and lay
Their hidden hookes, where all the skull do play.
Some of each kinde, yet at each corner stand,
Who still loue truth; in spite of thy command:
Their heads look south, because the wind blows there,
Thy taile stands south, thy head the winde doth feare.
Ill might he fare that in Alcedos place,
Set thee, who springest from a bloudy race.
His error, and thy pedigree behold
As it in ancient story is inrould.
A trayt'rous Slaue, his Master hauing slaine
Did sole Commander of the world remaine.
But whilst he slept; a chickin of that Cocke
Which Cephas check't when he denyde the rocke,

And forc't him to repent, to sigh, and weep,
Did with his voyce the murtherer wake from sleep,
And would not suffer him to rest in sin,
But he would rouse his conscience still within.
This Murtherer, a Cocke of kinde did get,
And him to kill this kinder Cocke did set,
Who soone perform'd the taske he tooke in hand:
For Chauntecleer would suffer, not withstand.
He watchfull was and tended his vocation,
To stirre vp others to their occupation:
He lou'd the pearle more then the barley corne;
To crow, and not to quarrell he was borne.
So he was slaine, and slaine by one of those
From whence thy proud succession strangely rose
Who hight Alectrion, and while-ere had bin
The Pandor vnto Mars and Venus sin,
And then (being Captaine of great Mars his guard),
Stood Sentinel, and kept both watch and ward,
For feare that Phœbus all discouering eye,
Should them vnwares at their stolne pleasure spie.
But ouert'ane with sleep, he did not wake
Till Vulcans net did both the lechers take;
For which the angry God (inrag'd and mad)
His sleeping souldier, all in feathers clad,
His sword turn'd spurres, himselfe a Cocke of kinde,
His armes and body changde, but not his minde;
That's bloody still, and too far prone to fight
Without respect of persons, cause, or right.
Else would he ne're haue been so mad to kill,
A harmeles Cocke, who had no thought of ill.

But him he falsely slew, and hauing slaine
Did for this murther, of a murtherer gaine
Too great preferment, to be set vp heere
In triumph t'ouersee all, farre and neere;
To be ador'de with vniuersall praise
And triple crownd with Oliue, Oake, and Bayes.
Him thou succeed'st both in thy minde and place,
An armed Champion, of that yron race,
A Souldier, none of his whose badge thou bear'st;
But rather one of his whose crowne thou wear'st;
Thy narrow heeles are sharpe, thy tongue is short:
To prey, and not to prayer fit t'exhort.
Thou wilt not crow to rouse the world from sleep,
But with thy silent charmes, it drunken keepe.
When thou most seruant-like thy head dost beare
Downe to the ground, then Cockes their crownes may feare.
Thou seek'st a fained quarrell then to pick,
And wilt with both wings mount, with both heeles strick,
At euery feather come, stab either spur
Vp to the hilts; and furiously bestur
Thy ready parts, t'attaine thy bloody end,
And all the world to thy owne scope to bend.
Thou trumpet'st warres and curses ouer all,
And ouer-crowes, but wilt not crow to call
Thy selfe and others of thy ranke, and place,
From looking on the Earth, to view the face
Of the all-searching Sunne, and by his light
To measure truly what is wrong and right.
The Cock is kil'd that Peter caus'de to weepe,
The Petrean Pastor now may safely sleep.

Sleepe though he hath deni'd his master too;
For none t'admonish him hath ought to doo.
Crauen awake, behold how I deride
Thy mutabilitie, thy sloth, thy pride,
Thou stand'st where he stood who claim'd all the world,
And shalt with him from that steep height be hurld.
About thy head each prating bird that perks,
Dare take the name and place of learned Clerks,
And vnto royall Eagles offer lawes,
VVhen each eye sees, they are but iangling dawes.
And though all Lyons in the desart feare,
And crouch, when they thy crowing voice do heare:
Our Lyon scornes thee, when he heares thee crow;
And with his roaring voice the world doth show,
How poore thou art, how cowardly, how weake,
Who shak'st & trēblest when thou hear'st him speak.
And yet how proud art thou, t'vsurpe a place
Of iudgement ouer me, in this darke case,
And to prefer the Clock for want of wit,
VVhen I should be the iudge of thee and it?
The Sexton comes, hee'le mend all this anone.
VVith that the angry Clocke in rage strooke one.
The Sexton came indeed, and one did tell,
Look't on the Diall, saw all was not well.
For that said twelue, the Clock said one and past.
He tooke the weights off, which caus'd too much hast,
Suruaide the wheeles, for there the fault might be,
And found some cog supply the place of three.
Some wheeles were taken off, and borne to Court,
To trundle vp and downe, and there make sport.
And some with dust, and rust, were duld and foild,
And some stood vselesse, so the Clocke was spoild.

Which to reforme, he mends the wheels forthwith
Files, oyles, and beats them throughly on a stith:
Makes weights and wyere fit, then by the Sunne
Sets the new course, which it doth truly runne.
Then going vp the steeples top he spies
The weather-cocke how palpably it lies.
For at each Corner the Kings-fishers stood,
Full South; and that the Dial prooued good.
But the fond Weather-cocke (being weather-wise)
From the Calme blast turn'd his scornefull eyes.
The Sexton tooke him downe, and straight did see
An easie way how he might mended be,
His head was too too great, with 3. combes crownde
Which euer when the wind blew turn'd him round.
His taile was too too weake, when euery feather
Was bent with storms, and broken with the weather
The Sexton cut his crownes, and gaue more saile
With them and with the spurs vnto his tayle
So humbled now in habite, looke and minde,
He waites with due obedience on the winde:
Knowes his high place was not to rule, but serue,
And means no more from this strict course to swerue.
This tale no mortall needs, it is not darke,
But points a worke fit for our learned Clarke
Who by the Dyal may reforme the Clocke,
And by kings fishers turne the Weather-cocke.
We haue the winde to helpe vs and the Sunne,
And works are halfe accomplisht when begun.
Then who'le begin? who is on our side, who?
Where words, winde, writings faile, resolue to Doe.
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