All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| THE EIGHTH VVONDER OF THE VVORLD:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
THE EIGHTH VVONDER OF THE VVORLD:
OR, CORJATS ESCAPE FROM HIS SVPPOSED DROWNING.
DEDICATED To the Mighty, Magnificent, Potent, and Powerfull Knight, Sir Thomas Parsons, (alias) Pheander, (alias) Knight of the Sunne, Great Champion to Apollo, Palatine of Phœbus, Sword-bearer to Sol, Tilter to Tytan, Housekeeper to Hyperion, and heire apparant to the inuisible kingdome of the Fairies: your deuoted Votary, Iohn Taylor, wisheth your Worshits wisdomes Longitude, Latitude, Altitude, and Crassitude may increase aboue the Ridiculous multitude of the most eminent Stultorums of this latter age.
To thee braue knight, who from the Delphiā god comeI cōsecrate these famous Acts of Odcomb:
To thee alone, and vnto none but thee,
For Patronage my toyling Muse doth flee,
60
And with his faire escape to thee now march I,
Not doubting but thou wilt in kindnesse take
These lines thus writ, for his, and thy deare sake.
If thou in kindnesse wilt accept this taske,
Hereafter I will better things vn-caske,
And make the world thy worth to glory at,
In greater measure then at Coriat.
I'l mount thee vp in verse past Charles his Wain,
I'l make the Moone Endimion to disdaine,
I'l write in euer-during lines thy fame,
As farre as Phœbus spreads his glorious flame.
I'l make thee plucke sterne Saturne by the Chaps,
And braue great Ioue amids his thunder-clappes.
I'l cause thy praise t'eclipse the god of Armes,
I'l make Dame Venus yeeld to loues alarmes.
The nimble Mercury shall be thy foot-man,
If thou wilt grace my lines, therfore looke too't man.
But if to patronize me thou dost scorne,
'Twere better then, thou neuer hadst beene borne:
For 'gainst disdaine my Muses onely sport is,
To write with Gall, commixt with Aqua-fortis:
And Vineger, and Salt, and Sublimatum,
Which where it falls, wil scortch & scald: probatū.
Then as thou lou'st the Fairy Queene thine Aunt,
Daine to vouchsafe this poore and triuiall graunt:
Then I thy Poet will with low Subiection,
Proceed to write Tom Coriats Resurrection.
Yours euer, whose endeauour shall perseuer in your seruice,
Iohn Taylor.
61
The cause of the contention betwixt sir Thomas the Scholer, and Iohn the Sculler.
A pamphlet printed was, The Sculler nam'd,Wherein Sir Thomas much my writing blam'd;
Because an Epigram therin was written,
In which he said, he was nipt, gald and bitten.
He frets, he fumes, he rages and exclaimes,
And vowes to rouze me from the Riuer Thames.
Well, I to make him some amends for that,
Did write a Booke was cald, Laugh and be fat:
In which he said I wrong'd him ten times more,
And made him madder then he was before.
Then did he storme, and chase, and sweare, and ban,
And to superiour powers amaine he ran,
Where he obtaind Laugh and be fat's confusion,
Who all were burnt, and made a hot conclusion.
Then after that, when rumour had him drownd,
(The newes whereof, my vexed Muse did wound)
I writ a letter to th' Elizian coast,
T'appease his angry wrong-incensed Ghost.
The which my poore inuention then did call,
Odcombs Complaint, or Coriats Funerall.
But since true newes is come, he scap'd that danger,
And through hot Sun-burnt Asia is a ranger:
His raising from the dead I thought to write,
To please my selfe, and giue my friends delight.
The VVorlds eighth VVonder: OR, CORIATS REVIVING.
Lo, I the man whose Muse did lately forage,
Through winds & seas with dreadlesse dantlesse corage,
And to the life, in hodg-podg rime exprest,
How Odcombs Coriat was great Neptunes ghest.
How Thetis sweetly lull'd him in her lappe,
And (as her darling) fed the Barne with pappe.
How big-mouth'd Æol storm'd, and puft, and blew:
And how both winds and Sea with all their crue
Were pleas'd and displeas'd; tumbled, rag'd, and tost,
The Gainers glad, and mad were they that lost.
These tedious taskes my toyling Muse hath run,
And what she did, for Coriats sake was dun.
Shee hath transported him to Bossoms Inne,
Where in a Basket he hath hanged bin:
Shee hath inuolu'd him in the hungry deepe,
In hope to leaue him in eternall sleepe:
Yet hauing hang'd him first, and after drown'd him,
My poore laborious Muse againe hath found him.
For 'tis her duty still to wait and serue him,
Although the Fates should hang, or drown, or sterue him.
The fatall Sisters serue his turne so pat,
That sure he hath more liues then hath a Cat.
Alcides neuer past so many dangers
As he hath done, amongst his friends, and strangers.
He runs through all his actions with such ease,
As Hogs eate Acorns, or as Pidgeons Pease,
There's nothing in the world can him disgrace,
Not being beaten in a lowzy case:
Nor Trunks, nor Puncks, nor stocks, nor mocks, nor moes,
Nor being made an Asse in Rime and Prose:
Nor hanging, drowning, carting nor the blanket.
These honours all are his, the gods be thanked.
Through winds & seas with dreadlesse dantlesse corage,
And to the life, in hodg-podg rime exprest,
How Odcombs Coriat was great Neptunes ghest.
How Thetis sweetly lull'd him in her lappe,
And (as her darling) fed the Barne with pappe.
How big-mouth'd Æol storm'd, and puft, and blew:
And how both winds and Sea with all their crue
Were pleas'd and displeas'd; tumbled, rag'd, and tost,
The Gainers glad, and mad were they that lost.
These tedious taskes my toyling Muse hath run,
And what she did, for Coriats sake was dun.
Shee hath transported him to Bossoms Inne,
Where in a Basket he hath hanged bin:
Shee hath inuolu'd him in the hungry deepe,
In hope to leaue him in eternall sleepe:
Yet hauing hang'd him first, and after drown'd him,
My poore laborious Muse againe hath found him.
For 'tis her duty still to wait and serue him,
Although the Fates should hang, or drown, or sterue him.
The fatall Sisters serue his turne so pat,
That sure he hath more liues then hath a Cat.
Alcides neuer past so many dangers
As he hath done, amongst his friends, and strangers.
He runs through all his actions with such ease,
As Hogs eate Acorns, or as Pidgeons Pease,
There's nothing in the world can him disgrace,
Not being beaten in a lowzy case:
Nor Trunks, nor Puncks, nor stocks, nor mocks, nor moes,
Nor being made an Asse in Rime and Prose:
Nor hanging, drowning, carting nor the blanket.
These honours all are his, the gods be thanked.
Bvt now me-thinkes, some curious itching eare
Doth long some sportiue newes of him to heare.
For being in the Ocean buried vnder,
And now aliue againe, 'tis more then wonder:
But how these wondrous wonders came to passe,
I (as I can) will tell you how it was.
Doth long some sportiue newes of him to heare.
62
And now aliue againe, 'tis more then wonder:
But how these wondrous wonders came to passe,
I (as I can) will tell you how it was.
VVhen first this mirrour 'mongst a world of Nations,
(This great ingroser of strange obseruations)
Was bound for Constantines braue noble City,
Then he (who is Wit-all, or else all witty)
Whose vigilancy lets no aduantage slip,
Embarked was in a tall proued Ship
Of London, the Samaritan she hight:
Now note the fore cast of this famous wight:
The Ship he onely for her name did chuse,
In detestation of the faithlesse Iewes:
For why, the Iewes and the Samaritans
Did hate as Christians, Anti-Christians.
Yet I suppose his spight to them did spring,
For I thinke what, and now I'l name the thing:
In his first fiue months strange perambulation,
He was in danger of that peruerse Nation.
For they by wrongfull force would haue surpriz'd him,
T'excoriat Coriat, and t'haue Circumciz'd him.
This dreadfull terrour of his Lady-ware,
I gesse the cause the Iewes he hatred bare.
How-euer was his intricate intent,
In the Samaritan to Sea he went:
And eare-abusing false intelligence
Said, he was drown'd in Neptunes residence.
Thus false report did make me much mistake:
For which, a faire recanting mends I'l make.
My grieued Muse hath euer since his drowning,
Beene vext with sorrow, and continuall swowning:
But now she's all attir'd with mirth and gladnesse,
The Lye was good that made her sick with sadnesse.
(This great ingroser of strange obseruations)
Was bound for Constantines braue noble City,
Then he (who is Wit-all, or else all witty)
Whose vigilancy lets no aduantage slip,
Embarked was in a tall proued Ship
Of London, the Samaritan she hight:
Now note the fore cast of this famous wight:
The Ship he onely for her name did chuse,
In detestation of the faithlesse Iewes:
For why, the Iewes and the Samaritans
Did hate as Christians, Anti-Christians.
Yet I suppose his spight to them did spring,
For I thinke what, and now I'l name the thing:
In his first fiue months strange perambulation,
He was in danger of that peruerse Nation.
For they by wrongfull force would haue surpriz'd him,
T'excoriat Coriat, and t'haue Circumciz'd him.
This dreadfull terrour of his Lady-ware,
I gesse the cause the Iewes he hatred bare.
How-euer was his intricate intent,
In the Samaritan to Sea he went:
And eare-abusing false intelligence
Said, he was drown'd in Neptunes residence.
Thus false report did make me much mistake:
For which, a faire recanting mends I'l make.
My grieued Muse hath euer since his drowning,
Beene vext with sorrow, and continuall swowning:
But now she's all attir'd with mirth and gladnesse,
The Lye was good that made her sick with sadnesse.
Know therefore, Readers, whatsoe'r you are:
That this great Britaine braue Odcombyan star,
Was tost on Neptunes rough remorcelesse waues,
Where each man look'd fortimelesse brinish graues:
For Eolus vnlock'd his vaulted Center,
And 'gainst the Sea-god did in Armes aduenter,
With winds vniayled came at vnawares,
And greene-fac'd Neptune with defiance dares,
With all his watry Regiments to fight,
Or yeeld this matchles, worthles, wondrous knight.
The great humidious Monarch tells him plaine,
'Twere best he iogd from his commanding Maine:
And with his troupes of homelesse, rouing slaues
Goe hide him in the earths imprison'd Caues,
And not disturbe him in his Regall Throne,
For he would keepe Tom Coriat, or else none.
Then Eol 'gan his windy wrath to vent,
And swore by Styx, that Neptune should repent
This hauty high audacious insolence,
Against his powerfull great magnificence.
Then Triton sounded, the alarme was giuen,
That from hells bottome, to the skirts of heauen,
The repercussiue ecchoes of his sounding,
With dreadfull relapse backe againe redounding.
Then, then Robustious swolne cheek'd Boreas blasts,
Teare, riue, and shiuer Tacklins, Sailes, and Masts:
In totter'd fragments all in pieces shatter'd,
Which here and there confusedly lay scatter'd.
These hurly burly stormes and tempests tumbling,
With dire amazing Thunder-thumping rumbling,
The mounting billowes, like great mountaines rise,
As if they meant to drowne the lofty skies.
Then downe they fall to the Tartarian deepe,
As if th'infernall Fiends they meant to steepe:
That sure (I gesse) a greater gust was neuer,
Since Iuno did Ænea's ruine endeauour.
The Kingly Sea-god (to auoyd more harmes)
Caught Coriat (the cause of these Alarmes)
And so his boystrous windy foe depriu'd,
And home thorow worlds of flouds amain he diu'd.
But awefull Ioue to his Imperiall spheare,
These grieuous garboyles chanced for to heare:
And to his brother Neptune downe he sends
The wing-heel'd Mercury, with these commends:
To thee, thou watry great commanding Keasar,
I come from heauens Maiesticke mighty Cæsar;
Commanding thee by thy fraternall loue,
That from thy Coasts thou presently remoue
The man thou lately took'st, the worlds sole wōder,
Or else he'l rouze thee with distracting Thunder:
And therefore, as Ioues friendship thou dost tender,
To safe arriuall see thou dost him render:
Whilst May'es sonne his message thus did tell,
A fury, like a Post-knight, came from hell:
And from th'infernall King of blacke Auernus,
These words he vtter'd (which doe much concern vs.)
From Acheronticke, Phlegetonticke waues,
Thy brother Pluto thus much friendship craues:
Thou wilt send Coriat downe with him to raigne,
And he'l send thee as good a thing againe.
For Proserpina his illustrious Pheare,
Of him, and his aduentures chanc'd to heare:
Because a Gentleman-vsher she doth want,
To haue him, Pluto begs thy friendly grant.
The Marine Monarch answers, thus it is:
You Nuntius from our brethren Ioue and Dis,
Know, such a mortall is within my power,
Imprison'd close, in Thetis siluer Bower,
I did surprize him midst a thousand toyles
Of warres, of iarres, of bloody banefull broyles:
My high-borne brother Ioue hath hither sent,
Commanding me that I incontinent
Doe safely set this new-found man aland.
And I from Pluto further vnderstand,
That he would haue him to Cocitus Coast,
Where he and Ceres daughter rules the roast.
First therefore I in wisedome hold it best,
To yeeld vnto the mighty Ioues request:
And on the Grecian coast I'l safely place him,
Where he may wāder where his fortunes trace him.
These messengers thus answer'd, were dismist,
And Neptune did to land his guest persist:
But now all hell was in an expectation
For Coriats comming, making preparation,
The Stigian Ferri-man on Stixes shore,
Did wait with diligence to waft him o'r,
And hels three-headed Porter sweetly sung
For ioy, that all the Coastes of Limbo rung
With howling Musickes, dambe despightfull notes,
From out his triple Chaps, and treble throats.
Ixion from the tortring wheele was eas'd,
And pining Tantall was with iunkets pleas'd:
And further, 'twas commanded, and decreed,
The Gripe no more on Titius guts should feed.
The nine and forty wenches, water filling,
In tubs vnbottom'd, which was euer spilling:
They all had leaue to leaue their endlesse toyles,
To dance, sing, sport, and to keepe reuell coyles.
Three forked Hocate to mirth was prone,
And Sisiphus gaue o'r the restlesse stone.
All, in conclusion, had free leaue to play,
And for Tom Coriats sake make holiday.
Thus all blacke Barathrum is fill'd with games,
With lasting bone-fires, casting sulphur-flames.
In Vse'rers skuls the molten gold they quaffe,
And skink, and drink, and wink, and stink, and laffe.
But when the Post was come and told his Tale,
Then all this sport was turn'd to banefull bale.
Grim Pluto storm'd, and Proserpina mournd,
And tortur'd Ghosts, to torments were returnd.
That this great Britaine braue Odcombyan star,
Was tost on Neptunes rough remorcelesse waues,
Where each man look'd fortimelesse brinish graues:
For Eolus vnlock'd his vaulted Center,
And 'gainst the Sea-god did in Armes aduenter,
With winds vniayled came at vnawares,
And greene-fac'd Neptune with defiance dares,
With all his watry Regiments to fight,
Or yeeld this matchles, worthles, wondrous knight.
The great humidious Monarch tells him plaine,
'Twere best he iogd from his commanding Maine:
And with his troupes of homelesse, rouing slaues
Goe hide him in the earths imprison'd Caues,
And not disturbe him in his Regall Throne,
For he would keepe Tom Coriat, or else none.
Then Eol 'gan his windy wrath to vent,
And swore by Styx, that Neptune should repent
This hauty high audacious insolence,
Against his powerfull great magnificence.
Then Triton sounded, the alarme was giuen,
That from hells bottome, to the skirts of heauen,
The repercussiue ecchoes of his sounding,
With dreadfull relapse backe againe redounding.
Then, then Robustious swolne cheek'd Boreas blasts,
Teare, riue, and shiuer Tacklins, Sailes, and Masts:
In totter'd fragments all in pieces shatter'd,
Which here and there confusedly lay scatter'd.
These hurly burly stormes and tempests tumbling,
With dire amazing Thunder-thumping rumbling,
The mounting billowes, like great mountaines rise,
As if they meant to drowne the lofty skies.
Then downe they fall to the Tartarian deepe,
As if th'infernall Fiends they meant to steepe:
That sure (I gesse) a greater gust was neuer,
Since Iuno did Ænea's ruine endeauour.
The Kingly Sea-god (to auoyd more harmes)
Caught Coriat (the cause of these Alarmes)
And so his boystrous windy foe depriu'd,
And home thorow worlds of flouds amain he diu'd.
But awefull Ioue to his Imperiall spheare,
These grieuous garboyles chanced for to heare:
And to his brother Neptune downe he sends
The wing-heel'd Mercury, with these commends:
To thee, thou watry great commanding Keasar,
I come from heauens Maiesticke mighty Cæsar;
Commanding thee by thy fraternall loue,
That from thy Coasts thou presently remoue
The man thou lately took'st, the worlds sole wōder,
Or else he'l rouze thee with distracting Thunder:
And therefore, as Ioues friendship thou dost tender,
To safe arriuall see thou dost him render:
Whilst May'es sonne his message thus did tell,
A fury, like a Post-knight, came from hell:
And from th'infernall King of blacke Auernus,
These words he vtter'd (which doe much concern vs.)
From Acheronticke, Phlegetonticke waues,
Thy brother Pluto thus much friendship craues:
Thou wilt send Coriat downe with him to raigne,
And he'l send thee as good a thing againe.
For Proserpina his illustrious Pheare,
Of him, and his aduentures chanc'd to heare:
Because a Gentleman-vsher she doth want,
To haue him, Pluto begs thy friendly grant.
The Marine Monarch answers, thus it is:
You Nuntius from our brethren Ioue and Dis,
Know, such a mortall is within my power,
Imprison'd close, in Thetis siluer Bower,
I did surprize him midst a thousand toyles
Of warres, of iarres, of bloody banefull broyles:
My high-borne brother Ioue hath hither sent,
Commanding me that I incontinent
Doe safely set this new-found man aland.
And I from Pluto further vnderstand,
67
Where he and Ceres daughter rules the roast.
First therefore I in wisedome hold it best,
To yeeld vnto the mighty Ioues request:
And on the Grecian coast I'l safely place him,
Where he may wāder where his fortunes trace him.
These messengers thus answer'd, were dismist,
And Neptune did to land his guest persist:
But now all hell was in an expectation
For Coriats comming, making preparation,
The Stigian Ferri-man on Stixes shore,
Did wait with diligence to waft him o'r,
And hels three-headed Porter sweetly sung
For ioy, that all the Coastes of Limbo rung
With howling Musickes, dambe despightfull notes,
From out his triple Chaps, and treble throats.
Ixion from the tortring wheele was eas'd,
And pining Tantall was with iunkets pleas'd:
And further, 'twas commanded, and decreed,
The Gripe no more on Titius guts should feed.
The nine and forty wenches, water filling,
In tubs vnbottom'd, which was euer spilling:
They all had leaue to leaue their endlesse toyles,
To dance, sing, sport, and to keepe reuell coyles.
Three forked Hocate to mirth was prone,
And Sisiphus gaue o'r the restlesse stone.
All, in conclusion, had free leaue to play,
And for Tom Coriats sake make holiday.
Thus all blacke Barathrum is fill'd with games,
With lasting bone-fires, casting sulphur-flames.
In Vse'rers skuls the molten gold they quaffe,
And skink, and drink, and wink, and stink, and laffe.
But when the Post was come and told his Tale,
Then all this sport was turn'd to banefull bale.
Grim Pluto storm'd, and Proserpina mournd,
And tortur'd Ghosts, to torments were returnd.
The Sea-god (carefull of great Ioues high hest)
To great Constantinople brought his guest:
Where (nothing that may honour him omitting)
His entertainement to his state was fitting:
There in all pleasure he himselfe disports,
Conuersing daily with such braue consorts,
As Turkes, and Tartars, Englishmen and Greekes,
That he thinkes ages yeeres, and yeeres but weekes,
That's wasted in this rare time stealing chat,
All his delight's in nothing else but that.
But his high honour further to relate,
I'l sing the new aduancement of his state.
Some English Gentlemen with him consulted,
And he as nat'rally with them constulted:
Where they perceiuing his deserts were great,
They striu'd to mount him into honours seat:
And being found of an vnmatched spright,
He there was double dub'd a doughty Knight.
Rise vp, sir Thomas, worship'd mayst thou be
Of people all (that are as wise as thee.)
Now rap't with ioy, my Muse must needs record,
How he was knighted with a royall sword:
But into what a puzzell now got I am?
They say it was the Bilbo of King Priam,
The fatall blade which he in fury drew,
When in reuenge the Mirmidons he slew.
Impell mel vengeance for great Hectors bane,
Who by Achillis faire foule-play was slaine.
That sword that mow'd the Grecians like a sithe:
That sword that made victorious Troyans blithe:
That sword, that through so many dangers rub'd,
That famous sword hath Monsier Coriat dub'd.
What though 'twas rusty? spight of cankerd rust,
The memory of honour liues in dust,
'Twas no disgrace it was so rusty shap'd,
It had (like Coriat) many a scowring scap'd.
To great Constantinople brought his guest:
Where (nothing that may honour him omitting)
His entertainement to his state was fitting:
There in all pleasure he himselfe disports,
Conuersing daily with such braue consorts,
As Turkes, and Tartars, Englishmen and Greekes,
That he thinkes ages yeeres, and yeeres but weekes,
That's wasted in this rare time stealing chat,
All his delight's in nothing else but that.
But his high honour further to relate,
I'l sing the new aduancement of his state.
Some English Gentlemen with him consulted,
And he as nat'rally with them constulted:
Where they perceiuing his deserts were great,
They striu'd to mount him into honours seat:
And being found of an vnmatched spright,
He there was double dub'd a doughty Knight.
Rise vp, sir Thomas, worship'd mayst thou be
Of people all (that are as wise as thee.)
Now rap't with ioy, my Muse must needs record,
How he was knighted with a royall sword:
But into what a puzzell now got I am?
They say it was the Bilbo of King Priam,
The fatall blade which he in fury drew,
When in reuenge the Mirmidons he slew.
Impell mel vengeance for great Hectors bane,
Who by Achillis faire foule-play was slaine.
That sword that mow'd the Grecians like a sithe:
That sword that made victorious Troyans blithe:
That sword, that through so many dangers rub'd,
That famous sword hath Monsier Coriat dub'd.
What though 'twas rusty? spight of cankerd rust,
The memory of honour liues in dust,
'Twas no disgrace it was so rusty shap'd,
It had (like Coriat) many a scowring scap'd.
Bvt 'mongst the rest, this must not be forgot,
How he did from Constantinople trot,
And how a solemne counsell there decreed,
That he should trauell in a Grecian weede.
To this (for his owne safety) they doe woo him,
Because the language is so nat'rall to him.
And then bespake a sober sage wise fellow,
(When wine had made them all in general mellow)
Take heed, quoth he, I counsell you, beware
That of your selfe you haue a speciall care,
You be not taken for a French-man, for
The Turks in these parts doe the French abhor,
Since Godfries times, that braue bold Bullen Duke,
Who put them all to shame, and rough rebuke,
And made the Sarasins by Millions bleed,
And holy Toombe, from faithlesse fiends he freed.
Wherefore (quoth he) in friendship I aduise you
T'auoid suspect, 'twere best we Circumcise you:
And then you freely may through perils passe,
Despight the Turks, so like a Grecian Asse,
No man with Linxes eyes will deeme you other,
And thus you safely may suspition smother.
Sir Thomas gaue this fellowes speech the hearing,
But told him 'twas too heauy for his bearing:
For why, fall backe, fall edge, come good, come ill,
He vow'd to keepe his fore-mans fore-skin still.
This resolution was no sooner spoken,
The friendly counsell was dismist and broken.
Where after leaue was tane twixt him and them,
He tooke his iourny toward Ierusalem:
And what he can obserue 'twixt morne and night,
With due obseruance he doth daily write,
That if my iudgement be not much mistooke,
An Elephant will scarce support his booke.
For he in fiue months built a paper hulke,
And this must be ten times of greater bulke.
O Pauls-Church-yard, I onely pitty thee,
Thou, onely thou, shalt most encumbred bee:
Thou from the Presse art prest to be opprest,
With many a farfetch'd home-brought Odcomb iest.
But yet I know tht Stationers are wise,
And well do know wherein the danger lies:
For to such inconuenience they'l not enter,
But suffer Coriat to abide th'aduenter:
Because his Gyant volume is so large,
They'l giue sir Thomas leaue to beare the charge.
That man is mad who changes gold for drosse,
And so were they to buy a certaine losse:
Let him that got and bore the Barne, still breed it,
And nurse, disburse, and foster, cloath, and feed it.
How he did from Constantinople trot,
And how a solemne counsell there decreed,
That he should trauell in a Grecian weede.
To this (for his owne safety) they doe woo him,
Because the language is so nat'rall to him.
And then bespake a sober sage wise fellow,
(When wine had made them all in general mellow)
Take heed, quoth he, I counsell you, beware
That of your selfe you haue a speciall care,
You be not taken for a French-man, for
The Turks in these parts doe the French abhor,
Since Godfries times, that braue bold Bullen Duke,
Who put them all to shame, and rough rebuke,
And made the Sarasins by Millions bleed,
And holy Toombe, from faithlesse fiends he freed.
Wherefore (quoth he) in friendship I aduise you
T'auoid suspect, 'twere best we Circumcise you:
And then you freely may through perils passe,
Despight the Turks, so like a Grecian Asse,
No man with Linxes eyes will deeme you other,
And thus you safely may suspition smother.
Sir Thomas gaue this fellowes speech the hearing,
But told him 'twas too heauy for his bearing:
For why, fall backe, fall edge, come good, come ill,
He vow'd to keepe his fore-mans fore-skin still.
This resolution was no sooner spoken,
The friendly counsell was dismist and broken.
Where after leaue was tane twixt him and them,
He tooke his iourny toward Ierusalem:
And what he can obserue 'twixt morne and night,
With due obseruance he doth daily write,
That if my iudgement be not much mistooke,
An Elephant will scarce support his booke.
For he in fiue months built a paper hulke,
And this must be ten times of greater bulke.
68
Thou, onely thou, shalt most encumbred bee:
Thou from the Presse art prest to be opprest,
With many a farfetch'd home-brought Odcomb iest.
But yet I know tht Stationers are wise,
And well do know wherein the danger lies:
For to such inconuenience they'l not enter,
But suffer Coriat to abide th'aduenter:
Because his Gyant volume is so large,
They'l giue sir Thomas leaue to beare the charge.
That man is mad who changes gold for drosse,
And so were they to buy a certaine losse:
Let him that got and bore the Barne, still breed it,
And nurse, disburse, and foster, cloath, and feed it.
Thus hath my Muse (as fortune her allotted)
Both run and rid, and gallopt, ambled, trotted
To skyes, and seas, and to blacke hell below.
In seruile duty that my loue doth owe.
My captiue thoughts, like trusty seruants to him,
Striue how they any way may seruice doe him.
To serue his turne like Prentices they gree,
Ioue send Sir Thomas home to make them free.
Both run and rid, and gallopt, ambled, trotted
To skyes, and seas, and to blacke hell below.
In seruile duty that my loue doth owe.
My captiue thoughts, like trusty seruants to him,
Striue how they any way may seruice doe him.
To serue his turne like Prentices they gree,
Ioue send Sir Thomas home to make them free.
Epilogue to Sir Thomas Coriat vpon his name.
VVhy haue I spent my time thus, Coriat?Wherfore on thy leud lines thus pore I at?
Why like an Ideot foole adore—I at
Thy workes? which wisedome will not glory at.
At no place euer was before—I at
Where wonders vpon wonder more—I at
With pen, in stead of Lance, now gore—I at
Thy Odcomb foppery now bore—I at.
At thy prides altitude, now sore—I at
Thou art the Theame I write my—story at.
If ought befell me to be—sory at
Hard-hearted fate, 'gainst thee then rore—I at.
Vpon his bookes name, called his Crudities.
Tom
Coriat, I haue seene thy Crudities,
And, me-thinkes, very strangely brude it is,
With piece and patch together glude—it is,
And how (like thee) ill-fauour'd hu'de—it is,
In many a line I see that lewd—it is,
And therefore fit to be subdew'd—it is.
And, me-thinkes, very strangely brude it is,
With piece and patch together glude—it is,
And how (like thee) ill-fauour'd hu'de—it is,
In many a line I see that lewd—it is,
And therefore fit to be subdew'd—it is.
Within thy broyling braine-pan stude—it is,
And twixt thy grinding iawes well chewd—it is,
Within thy stomacke closely mude—it is;
And last, in Court and Country spude—it is:
But now by wisedomes eye that view'd it is,
They all agree that very rude—it is.
With foolery so full endude—it is,
That wondrously by fooles pursude—it is,
As sweet as galls amaritude—it is,
And seeming full of Pulchritude—it is:
But more to write, but to intrude—it is,
And therefore wisedome to conclude—it is,
And twixt thy grinding iawes well chewd—it is,
Within thy stomacke closely mude—it is;
And last, in Court and Country spude—it is:
But now by wisedomes eye that view'd it is,
They all agree that very rude—it is.
With foolery so full endude—it is,
That wondrously by fooles pursude—it is,
As sweet as galls amaritude—it is,
And seeming full of Pulchritude—it is:
But more to write, but to intrude—it is,
And therefore wisedome to conclude—it is,
A Simile for his Learning.
The lushious Grape of Bacchus heating Vine,
When it to ripe maturity is sprung,
Is prest, and so conuerted into wine,
Then clos'd in Caske most tight at head and bung:
For if by chance, it chanceth to take vent:
It spils the wine in colour, strength, and sent,
When it to ripe maturity is sprung,
Is prest, and so conuerted into wine,
Then clos'd in Caske most tight at head and bung:
For if by chance, it chanceth to take vent:
It spils the wine in colour, strength, and sent,
Eu'n so thy Latine, and thy Greeke was good
Till in thy musty Hogges-head it was put:
And Odly there Commixed with thy blood,
Not wisely kept, nor well, nor tightly shut:
That of the Caske it tastes, so I assure thee,
That few (or none) can (but in sport) endure thee.
Till in thy musty Hogges-head it was put:
And Odly there Commixed with thy blood,
Not wisely kept, nor well, nor tightly shut:
That of the Caske it tastes, so I assure thee,
That few (or none) can (but in sport) endure thee.
My Fare-well to him.
Now Coriat, I with thee haue euer done,My Muse vnto her iournies end hath wonne:
My first Inuentions highly did displease thee,
And these my last are written to appease thee.
I wrought these great Herculean works to win thee:
Then if they please thee not, the foole's within thee:
What next I write, shall better be or none,
Doe thou let me, and I'l let thee alone.
But if thou seem'st to rub a galled sore,
Vindictas vengeance makes all Hell to rore.
FINIS.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |