University of Virginia Library

2. SATYRE.

[A man may tell his friend his fault in kindnes]

A man may tell his friend his fault in kindnes:
To winke at folly, is a foolish blindnes.
God saue you sir, saluteth with a grace,
One he could wish neuer to see his face.
But doth not he vse meere dissimulation,
That's inside hate, and outside salutation?
Yes as I take it; yet his answere sayes,
Fashions, and Customes, vse it now a dayes.
A Gentleman perhaps may chaunce to meete
His liuing-griper face to face in streete:
And though his lookes are odious vnto sight;
Yet will he doe him the French congés right,
And in his hart wish him as low as hell,
When in his wordes, hee's glad to see him well:
Then being thus, a man may soone suppose
There is, God saue you sir, sometimes twixt foes.
Oh sir, why thats as true as you are heere,
With one example I will make it cleere,
And farre to fetch the same I will not goe,
But into Heunds-ditch, to the Brokers row:
Or any place where that trade doth remaine,
Whether at Holborne Conduit, or Long-lane:
If thyther you vouchsafe to turne your eye,
And see the Pawnes that vnder forfayre lye,
Which are foorth comming sir, and safe enough
Sayes good-man Broker, in his new print ruffe:
He will not stand too strictly on a day,
Encouraging the party to delay;
With all good wordes, the kindest may be spoke,
He turnes the Gentleman out of his Cloake.
And yet betweene them both, at euery meeting,
God saue you sir, is their familiar greeting,
This is much kindnesse sure, I pray commend him,
With great good words, he highly doth befrend him
It is a fauour at a pinch in neede:
A pinching friendship, and a pinching deede.
The slaue may weare his suites of Sattin so,
And like a man of reputation go,
When all he hath in house, or on his backe,
It is his owne, by forfaytures shipwracke.
See you the Brooch that long ins Hat hath bin?
It may be there, it cost him not a pin:
His sundry sorts of diuers mens attyre,
He weares them cheape, euen at his owne desire.
Shame ouer take the pessant for his paine,
That he should pray on losses, to his gaine,
In drawing Wardrobes vnder his subiection,
Being a knaue in manners and complexion,
Iumpe like to Vsurie, his nearest kinne;
That weares a money bagge vnder his chinne:
A bunch that doth resemble such a shape,
And hayred like to Paris garden Ape,
Foaming about the chaps like some wilde Boore,
As swart and tawnie as an India Moore:
With narrow brow, and Squirrell eyes, he showes,
His faces chiefest ornament, is nose,
Full furnished with many a Clarret staine,
As large as any Codpice of a Dane,
Embossed curious; euery eye doth iudge,
His lacket faced with motheaten Budge:
To which a paire of Satten sleeues he weares,
Wherein two pound of greace about he beares.
His Spectacles do in a copper case,
Hang dangling about his pissing place.
His breeches and his hose, and all the rest
Are sutable: His gowne (I meane his best)
Is full of threeds, Intitul'd right threed-bare:
But wooll there on is wondrous scant and rare.
The welting hath him in no charges stood,
Beeing the ruines of a cast French hood.
Excesse is sinfull, and he doth defie it,
A sparing whorson in attire and diet.
Only excesse is lawfull in his Chest,
For there he makes a golden Angels nest:
And vowes no farder to be found a lender,
Then that most pretious mettall doth engender:
Begetting dayly more and more encrease,
His monyes slaue, till wretched life surcease.
This is the Iew alied very neere,
vnto the Broker, for they both do beare
Vndoubted testimonie of their kinne:
A brace of Rascals in a league of sinne.
Two filthy Curres that will on no man fawne,
Before they tast the sweetnesse of his pawne.
And then the slaues will be as kinde forsooth,
Not as Kind-hart, in drawing out a tooth:
For he doth ease the Patient of his paine,
But they disease the Borrower of his gaine.
Yet neither of them vse extremitie,
They can be villaines euen of charitie.
To lend our brother it is meete and fit:
Giue him rost meate and beat him with the spit.
Vserie sure is requisite and good,
And so is Brokeage, rightly vnderstood:
But soft a litle, what is he saye, so?
One of the twaine (vpon my life) I know.