University of Virginia Library

TO THE FAMOVS SEMINARY OF ALL ACCOMPLISH'D KNOWLEDGE, his deare foster-Mother, the Vniversitie of Oxford; the happie supplie of iudicious witts, with the encrease of all succeeding HONOVR.

To thee (deare Mother) in whose learned lap,
I once repos'd, and from whose batt'ning papp
I suckt the milke of knowledge, send I these
Which if they please, as I could wish them please
I'me honor'd by them, and will still renew
My loue to them, because they'r lik'd by you.
But these are feeble, scarce Penfeathered,
And like young Lapwings run with shell on head;
Nor can I blame them: for belike they'ue heard,
How I was young when I to you repair'd:
Growing in some sort riper; and these doe
Expect the like, that they shall thriue so too:
Which I confesse lies onely in your power,
For if you smile they liue, die if you loure;
Nor need I feare, for I did neuer know
Any darke Cloud sit on your smoother brow.

A GRIEFE: PERSONATED IN THE AVTHOR, AND Dedicated to Time, of whom hee Borrowes the Subiect of his Passion.

Care-charming sleepe, thou sonne of sable Night,
That cheares our drowping spirits with delight;
Making vs forget care, as if kept vnder
By some sweete spell, or some Lethean slumber,
Away and leaue me: Thee I brooke not well,
“Sorrow best fitteth with a Cloudie cell.
And what more cloudy, then where Sun nere shone,
Where nought keeps Concord but continu'd mone,
Where sighes of Louers, Passions of the minde,
Are all the Guests, that you are like to finde?
Poore blubberd Soule, is griefe in her extent?
Or is your source of teares alreadie spent?
Affliction workes distraction! aye me then,
That feeles the most, yet showes the least of men.
Yet if thou haue the memorie to relate
The poore remainder of thy forlorne state,
Expresse it boldly: Men are pleas'd to heare
Those griefes discourst, that once were hard to beare.
O then attend, and when my speech doth leaue,
Say, If ere any had more cause to grieue!
You idle houres, our Calenders of ruth,
And time ill spent, the preiudice of youth,
Are first presented to my grieued heart,
Come then (as first presented) act your part.
Come, for you can, and well I know you will,
Tell me what I haue done or good or ill.
Good; that is recken'd soone: but th'ill I'ue done,
Much doe I feare will not be summ'd so soone.
You keepe the score, and chalke from day to day,
While I run on in debt, and will not pay;
Yet I must pay, my Creditor will call,
Where I must pay both vse and principall.
First for the houre: or for the least of time,
Minute or instant, for that's onely mine,
What instant is there, or hath euer beene
Since I knew sinne, wherein I did not sinne?
What moment did I good, or if I did,
Was not vaine-glorie in the action hid?
I know it, O I know it but too well,
And much it grieues my pensiue soule to tell
What shee has done, and gladly would I leaue
My tale, and say, I know not how to grieue;
But I must speake, what Time doth presse me too,
“For it's lesse shame to speake then shame to doe.
Why did I know, if that my knowledge were
The onely cause why I so farre did erre?
As sure it was: since sacred discipline
Should make our mindes eternally divine;
Not darken'd with Earths substance, but in loue
Of her owne Image, seeke for things aboue,
From whence her Image came! blest had I bin,
If, as I knew this, so I had but seene
Into the reall glory of my soule,
O that had then beene faire, that now is soule.
Vnhappie I to care more for the rinde
Then for the pith, the bodie then the minde.
Vnhappie I to make my wit a baite
Vnto my selfe: my knowledge a conceit
Too ouer-weening; O I did not well,
Knowing for this, the brightest Angell fell
Conceipt is like a shaft shot from a Bow,
Which flyes a while aloft, but lighteth low.
Low did my iudgement light, when I did ayme,
By selfe-renowne to purchase me a Name:
Whereas (God-wot) that worth which was in me,
Scarce could redeeme my Name from infamie.
For what is humane Eminence, estate,
Honour, demerit, an auspicious Fate,
Conquest renowne, Trophies of lasting worth,
When they that got them, lie in Bed of earth?
Nothing a'las nothing: ther's no good in them,
For these yeeld small perfection vnto men;
Saue what the world giues, and that is giuen
Oft-times on earth, is neuer found in heauen.
I meane of merit, where men popular,
In their affections vsuallie doe erre,
In counting that desert, which hath a show
Of goodnesse in it: but is nothing so.
For I haue seene, even in these fewer yeares
Which I haue liu'd, how many one appeares
In show and outward luster to be that
Which he is not, if you obserue his state.
Now vertues are pretences, where we owe
Lesse farre to substance, then wee doe to show.
And good we call him (so the Vulgar deeme)
Who though he be not good, yet good doth seeme.
O time for thee I grieue (thou grieues for me)
And mutuall loue should I expresse to thee:
Thou see'st our Errors, wherewith we abuse
Thy selfe, that art of all most precious.
Thou see'st our vainest pompe, and how we tie,
Our admiration onely to the eye
Of our Beholder: thou art he, that sees
Our Times expence, those great arrerages
Which are against vs: and it well appeares,
Thou pitties vs, sending out brinie teares
In pure remorce, which we, throwne on the shelues
Of Desolation, shed not for our selues.
Here rides Poppæa, Neroes Concubine,
In her gilt Chariot; there rash Catiline,
Vnbounded in's desire; here Claudius
Prest to affections most incestuous;
Here Messalyna, an insatiate whoore;
There Danae wrastling with a golden shower;
Here couetous Midas sold to auarice;
There old Hermocrates with his foure eyes;
Poring on's Almanacke, cursing the earth,
And blessing's Fate when there ensues a dearth.
Ile be reveng'd, ere many dayes be done,
And't shall be said nere mother censur'd sonne,
With more extended rigour: thus shalt'be.
Now in these young dayes of thy iollitie,
When pleasures mansion in thee, now when youth
Ryots in vaine delight, I with my Syth
(For I can vse Times-Syth) will cut thee downe,
And then (my Son) where's all thy pompe become?
Frolicke a while, like Summer-Butterflies,
I am the chest where all thy honour lies;
Nor canst thou passe deaths verdict, nor my doome,
I was thy Cradle, I must bee thy Tombe.
See see (vnhappie youth) the vtmost date
Of all thy time, see what thou leuellst at?
A shrowd, a graue; where then's thy glory seene?
Or where those shows of honour that haue beene
Eminent in thee? 'lasse they'ue lost their breath,
And are extinguisht in the stroake of death.
What is the hight of honour prun'd so soone?
Is our youths May-game with such quicknes done?
O then (poore soule) why staiest thou here so long,
Or Turtle-like throbbs not thy dolefull song
T'expresse thy Pilgrimage? Is here a place
Euer to dwell in? No; so short's the pace
Of humane frailtie, that the strong'st of all,
Stands not so firme, but he may feare to fall.
And is this world such a precious dish,
Where few haue what they need, none what they wish,
As it deserues our Admiration? No,
What ere the worldling thinke, it is not so.
Honours, preferments, riches, and estate
Are but as Fewell, which engender hate
To the possessour, for who ere was seene
Rich, and had none that ever enuied him?
Why should I craue to please an outward sence,
When reason seekes no more then competence?
And that's a very little: as some foode
To sustaine Nature, and some cloaths, not proud
Nor gairish, but such fitting weedes as should
Saue vs from Summers heate and Winters cold.
For who (remēbring th'cause why cloths were made)
Even then, when Adam fled vnto his shade
For covert of his Nakednesse, will not blame
Himselfe to glorie in his Parents shame?
Weepe, weepe (Phantasticke Minion) for to thee
My grieued passion turnes: O may I be
Cause of Conversion to thy selfe, that art
Compos'd of Man, and therefore I beare part
In thy distracted Habit: (ougly peece,
For so I tearme thee) Woman-monster cease,
Cease to corrupt the excellence of minde,
By soyling it with such an odious rinde,
Or shamelesse Cover? waining, wavering Moone,
That spends the morne, in decking thee till noone;
Hast thou no other Ornaments to weare
Saue such wherein thy lightest thoughts appeare?
Hast thou no other honour, other Fame,
Saue roabes, which make thee glory in thy shame?
Lasciuious Idoll, that with painted cheeke,
Sinne-drawing eye, thy sacred vow doest breake
With thy Creator: hence thy sinne is more,
Adoring that which thou shouldst not adore.
What? No conversion yet? Doest yet persist
In thy deprau'd condition? Pray thee desist
From thy deformed Fashion: let that tyme
Which thou hast vainely spent to become fine,
Be now redeem'd, that after-times may say,
Thy Night of pride is turn'd to vertues Day.
'Las what auailes this sleeking of thy sinne,
When the cold wombe of earth shall take thee in.
To lodge with her? where for delicious sweetes,
Corruption shall embrace thee, and those sheetes
Wherein thy lustfull Bodie tooke delight,
Shall shrowd thy corps in deaths eternall Night.
Yet thou replies: I must obserue the Time:
Must I looke darke, when all my sex doth shine
In beautie and perfection? Pray thee heare,
If it be darknesse to be graue in weare,
Modest in gesture, womanlike in all,
Chuse thee that Habit, what so ere befall.
It's Vertues liverie, and will more expresse
Of true perfection, natiue excellence
In beautie, luster, comelinesse, and show,
Then all our light-tail'd huswiues ere shall doe.
These are the Deuils Lures, made to ensnare
Vnwarie youth, with their dissembled faire.
These are those spotted Lepers that defile,
The flowrie bosome of this fruitfull Ile.
These are those smiling Hyenes that confound
The spacioust kingdomes, & make curst the ground.
These are those Panthers, which with smiling chere,
Proue there the worst, where they the best appeare.
These are Niles Crocodyles, which hauing power,
Oppresse the people, and the State deuoure.
These are those Babells strumpets, with false formes
Deceiuing men, yet are surpriz'd by Wormes,
The Worme of Conscience, which shall ere abide,
And bee a Corasiue for lust and pride.
Iniurious staines, if I could but impart
The secret hate I beare you in my heart,
And had but power to will, not one I sweare
Of that adulterate sex should nestle here:
Or if they did, they should such Pennance haue,
As they might goe true Conuerts to their Graue.
For silkes should saccloth, and for powdred haire,
Should ashes be their penitentiall weare:
So might my doome authenticke be and iust,
“Sackcloth on pride, and ashes strow'd on lust.
Here Scilla, then whom none could ever be,
More friend to's friend, or foe to's enemie:
Lastly, here's all that's

πλει μεν γαρ γαα κακων= &c. ΗΣΙΟΔ ΕΡΗΑ ΚΑΙ ΗΜΕΡΑΙ.

ill: but what is good,
Is not at all, or is not vnderstood.
Here is no Phocion, Cato Vtican,
No trustie Brutus, nor no African,
No Thales, Solon, nor no Pittacus,
No Periander, nor Cleobulus;
No Bias, Chylo, now the Senate's done,
The

Laert: in vit. Philos.

Tripod's stolne, and all the sages gone.
What my perplexed soule, whither so fast,
More fairely on, the faire will not be past:
Tutch not Abuses, but with modest lipp,
For

One whom I admire, being no lesse happie for his natiue inuention, then exquisite for his proper and elegant dimension.

some I know were whipt, that thought to whip;
Vnto thine owne: thy errors are enow,
And full too many for one page to show.
Where in discourse mixe passion with thy line,
And hold thy course till that the Sun decline,
That now thy passions waking, now asleepe,
May weepe and laugh at Time, may laugh & weepe.
For oft we see, men troubled with annoy,
Doe laugh for anger, and doe weepe for ioy.
Time is portrayed bald, yet my young minde,
Letting occasion passe, catcht Time behinde,
I catcht indeed, but could not apprehend,
Which made me sigh for my deplored end.
Vnhappie youth (quoth I) thus I began,
That art endew'd with reason, best of man,
Yet armes the best of man, to mans offence,
Making thy reason Bond-slaue vnto sence.
Thou canst distinguish well of euery Time,
And knowes by th'aire when th'Sunne 'gins to decline,
Whether faire weather's like for to ensue,
This thou obseru'st, and thy coniecture's true.
But 'las how simple art, when thou wouldst finde,
The natiue temper of thy sin-sicke minde,
How far's thy knowledge off? so far, God wot,
That tho thou seeme to know't, thou know'st it not.
Nor can thy Ignorance plead for defence,
For knowledge has inform'd thy Conscience,
Which so afflicts thee, there's no hope of peace,
For Conscience is a thousand witnesses.
Seest thou thy shame, and canst thou loue the name
Of ougly sinne, that brought thee to that shame?
Seest thou thy forme made glorious at the first,
By the pollution of thy sinne accurst?
Seest thou thy selfe and doest not blush to see,
The best of Creatures made the worst by thee?
Seest thou the Sunne spher'd in his roiall course,
How vpon Plants, fruits, mettalls he has force,
And with his Beames reflects on euery place,
Adorning th'Heauen with his transpierciue grace?
Seest thou this glorious light, and doth thy soule
Thinke it will shine on any thing so foule,
As thy corruption? O no: such art thou,
In thy enormious actions, as to show
The horror of thy sinnes, would craue more Time
Then houres thou hast to liue: vnhappie clyme
Whose birth doth shame his Countrey, and I see
That verdict now to be pronounc'd on me,
And that on due desert: for where I might
Haue made my Countrie happie: through delight
Of vaine affections, wherewith I was tane,
My selfe was to my selfe my Countries shame.
Vnhappie I to frustrate the desire
Of my deare Countrie, which did plant me higher
Then my demerits were, yet such was I
In my succeeding course, as vanitie
Conceited, 'boue desert, made me so proud
As that became worst ill, that seem'd most good.
And can presumption yet restraine my pace?
Or is my shame so hardned, as my face
Dare view the light? O impudence in sinne,
When in our End, we doe afresh beginne
To multiplie offences! Can yon light
(Yon splendent bodie) which shows true delight
To euery Blossome, can it seeing thee
Abide t'expresse her former puritie,
Whilest thou art in presence? no, I know it will
Seeing thy shame, glade in some shadie Hill,
And quite obscure her luster, that thy crime
Might see it selfe in th'absence of her shine.
'Las I doe labour of a fruitlesse birth,
And viper-like, makes my poore mother earth,
Curse th'time shee bore me: did I not sayes she,
Foster thy youth, brought vp too tenderly?
Did I not suffer mine owne Brest be pierc't,
The secret cranies of my Bosome searcht,
That thou might be refresht? Did not my loue,
Beare vp thy weake lims, when thou couldst not moue
From mine owne Centre? Did not I produce
Store in aboundance for thy priuate vse,
Of which thou canst not say, thou ere hadst skant,
Possessing that which many better want?
Am not I she that cheares thee, when alone,
Yet as contemned I am trod vpon?
Am not I shee supports thy feeble stand,
And like a nursing mother, with my hand
dandles thee on my knee? yet for all this,
Thou kils thy Mother with a Iudas kisse.
Affliction to my Age, shall my wrong'd brest
Be furrow'd for thy good? when I'me opprest
More by such Bratts, to whom I fauour shew,
Then by such strangers, as I neuer knew:
No, no, depraued Issue, for thy name,
I hate to tell't: sith it augments my shame.
But what (my Muse) art thou so lustie growne,
As censuring others, thou forgets thine owne?
Come, come expresse thy griefe, make thy complaint
And to sad notes tune thy soules dreriment.
Let not one line, one accent, or one word
Run from thy Pen, that may delight afford
Vnto the Reader: but such Notes as force
Passion in men, and in thy selfe remorce;
Make those thy best of concord: if ere I
Could portray sorrow with a teare-dimd eye,
Affliction in her colour, or distresse
In natiue Feature, O may I expresse
That Image now, and when it's fully showne,
May I enstile't an Image of mine owne.
Dissolue thy selfe, and as thou art a man
Nere swallowed vp of sinne, let th'Ocean
Of thy distreaming eyes assoyle that sinne,
Which thou (poore soule) art thus emplunged in.
What; no teeres? sorrow art thou gone from me,
As if I stood not any neede of thee?
Is due compassion throwne on shipwrackes shelfe,
So ruth-lesse growne, it will not waile it selfe?
Perfidious and accurst that issue is,
Whose head-long course conuerts the Parents blisse,
Vnto a curse, and am not I that birth
Of Desolation that remaines on earth
Daring Heauens-maker? as if he that made
Me to his glorious Image, were afraid
To enter plea against me; sinfull wretch
Thinks thou that God, who doth the heauens stretch
Like to a Curtaine, He whose soueraigne might
Produced out of pitchie darknesse, light;
Compos'd the Ball of Earth, bounded with shores
The raging Ocean, that it should no more
Second her Invndation: who began
A little world, in a little man.
He who each plant, each blossome, fruit, and spray,
cheareth and cherisheth from day to day.
He whose transpierciue eyes each thing beholds,
And with his eye of knowledge pure, vnfolds
The secret of our thoughts, He whose power can
Subdue the Lyon, and Leviathan;
He whose exhaled breath convert'd to Ire
Throwes downe the wicked to eternall fire;
He whose advanced signall doth retaine
A milke-white colour, like a Tamburlaine,
Implying mercie, which if't doe no good,
Next he advanceth, signifieth Blood,
Ruine, subversion: He who is the King
Of the whole Earth, and swayeth euery thing
By lyne of his direction: He whose seate
Is in the Clouds, and's easie to entreate,
If he finde true contrition: He whose power
Can crop our humane Glorie like a flower.
He who hath euer beene, is now, shall be.
What is it, that he cannot doe with thee?
Wert thou a Giant, yet such is his force,
Who like a Giant's prest to run his course;
That thy aspiring thoughts should soone decline,
Like to those Giants were in former time.
Wert thou of such great power, as some haue beene,
Whose populous Armies dryed the Riuers cleane,
Yet would that God of hosts, thy power confound,
And strow thy slaughterd corps vpon the ground.
Wert thou in strength of bodie eminent,
Yet lasse how soone is that consum'd and spent
With one dayes sicknesse? Were thy beautie rare,
Thy golden Tresses like the Sun-beam'd haire
Of grace-lesse Absolon: perchance't might be
Thy haire would worke thy baine, as well as he.
Wert thou as rich as Cresus, yet would Time
Interre thee, and that Goulden calfe of thine;
Whil'st Miser-like thou might thy richesse curse,
‘Sith th'Deuils mouth is term'd a Misers purse.
Wert thou as royall, as Agrippa was,
Who seem'd in pompe and glory to surpasse
Humane condition, whilest applauses than
Should crowne thy state: The voice of God not man.
Yet for that luster deckt with varied formes,
Wretched thou art, when all cōsum'd with wormes?
Alas distracted soule, What's fine aray,
Or Fare deliciously for euery day:
What is't with deepest healths to drowne downe care,
Like to a sacrilegious Balthazar?
What ist to vanish griefe with companie,
Tune vp our Timbrels, sound out harmonie,
'Gainst melanchollicke passions. Time will come,
And quickly too, for see how swift do'es runne,
When our delicious fare shall worme-lins breed
Within our selues, that on our selues shall feede.
When fine aray, whereof we now are proud,
Shall be reduc'd vnto a silly shrowd.
When our deep-healths, where sences are surpriz'd,
Shall be with Sulphur, and with Brimstone spic'd.
When our Com-rades wherein we tooke delight,
Shall be diuid'd from vs, we from their sight.
When for harmonious concord, Fatall Owles
Shall keepe a Consort with tormented soules.
For Timbrels, tremblings, and melodious cheare,
Terror and horror sound in euery eare.
For vnchast meetings, and adulterate ends,
Graspings of Deuils, and th'embrace of Fiends.
Inchastitie being euer prostitute,
Whose tree we loath, when we haue pluckt the fruit.
But cease, afflicted soule: thy Crimson sin,
Is not assoyld with words, but sighes within,
That he who heares our sighes, records our mone,
May cheare thy griefe, when thou laments alone.

The Proæme.

My Subiect is no Sauage of the Wood,
Whose Morall's darke, and oft mis-vnderstood;
I shadow none by th'habit that he weares,
Nor taxe the person by the coate he beares.
For these I touch (their fortune is so small)

Foure Cardinall vertues.

As they (poore Snakes) doe beare no Coate at all;
I haue drunke Reubarbe lately, so as th'splene
I had before, is now exhausted cleane:
I am for him loues prayse, for in a word,
I can admire the Title of a Lord.
Hugg nimble Curio fingring of a Lute,
And cap and knee a Cloath, a Siluer suite.
And cry God saue his Lordship, though 't may be
His Lordships groome's as great a Lord as he:
I can terme the Silken foole profoundly wise,
And humour him in his absurdities:
Yea, I doe thinke, if I were forc'd by want,
I could in time learne th'Trade of Sycophant:
And profit by it, for there's verie few,
“But they liue poore that labour to write true;
Yet can I not if I should burst my gall,
Gaine me that good opinion of all.
Nor doe I care for't: for come what can come,
I am resolu'd how ere I find their doome:
Let this serue for the Proæme, and now see
Your pictures drawne in Times Anatomie:
Which seene, you cannot but admire the more,
To read me smooth that was so harsh before.

TIMES ANATOMIE, DISPLAYED Jn six distinct Subiects.

1. Riches. 2. Pouertie. 3. Iustice. 4. Iniustice. 5. Fate. 6. Death.

Of Richesse.

To thee the Worldlings Idoll, doe I make,
These harsh-tund Poems for my countries sake,
Which thou hast wrong'd too long, alas for woe,
That we should see't and suffer't to be so.
It's thou that fosters enmitie, debate,
Sedition, faction, and doest ruinate
The Noblest states, in haling downe the rod
Of Vengeance on thee, that thou art made a God
On earth: For who, I pray thee doe but show
Deserues a Cap, or bended knee but thou?
Who merites honour, who can's credit stretch
So farre as thou, that art esteemed rich?
Nay, let me step yet further, I shall finde,
The worldes trash held soueraigne of the minde.
For who are wise but Rich-men, or who can
Find th'Golden meane, but in a Golden man
He is Earths darling; and in time will be,
Hells darling too, for who's so fit as he.
Indeed if Riches were sincerely vs'd,
And not so much by Cormorants abus'd;
That make their Chest their Christ, then might wee find,
In richest States, a charitable minde:
Who like good Stewards of what they possesse,
Would distribute to th'poore or more or lesse:
If not the silks of Sydon, or of Tyre,
Yet is their bountie showne by their desire;
For not the gift, but th'mind of him that giues,
Accepted is, and his Reward receiues.
But 'las how farre off many Rich-men be,
From th'bond of loue, or lincke of charitie?
Where Rich-men giue to th'rich, thinking it vaine,
To giue to them that cannot giue againe,
These will not doe as we in Scripture read,
That bids vs on the waters throw our bread.
“For then be sure, how ere wee seeme to others,
“We would regard our poore distressed brothers.
And make his tears which he poore soule sends forth
As Registers whence we produc'd our birth.
For 'las when we shall from this house of Clay,
Be cleane dissolved, as we must one day;
How heauie will our doome at that time be,
That pitied not our Brothers penurie?
Where shall our pompe and maiestie be then,
Where all those honors we receiu'd 'mongst men?
Where's our Attendance, where's our noble birth?
Or where's our wealth we gloried in on earth?
'Las we shall then be stript of all we haue,
Nought left vs but a Coffin and a Graue:
And happie we if so it might befall,
The Graue might end our griefe, but this's not all;
Lower the wretched must of force descend,
To that same place where sorrowes haue no end.
And doest thou yet (fond rich-man) hugg thy pelfe,
Which makes thee an Arch-traytor to thy selfe?
Doest thou consume thy dayes, adorning it,
That damns thy soule, infatuates thy wit;
Makes thee a Rebell, forcing thee to swerue,
From thy Creator, whom thou ought to serue?
Tortures thy guiltie Conscience (simple foole)
To haue thy state to witnesse 'gainst thy soule.
But thou'l obiect, why should I be so rough
'Gainst thee, that art resolu'd to doe enough
Before thou diest: For I doe heare thee still
Harpe on a good, and charitable Will.
Which shall expresse what thou in life time ment,
By thy last will, and finall Testament.
Good-wills be good indeed, and worthily
Doe they deserue our best of memorie:
But much I feare this good is mixt with ill,
And that good wills proceed not from Good will:
For if they did methinkes it should not grieue them,
To giue them freely, 'fore they'r forc't to leaue them.
And sure methinkes None can be sayd to giue,
But such as doe it franckly while they liue.
“For when they'r dead (as't shall be after showne)
“That which they giue cannot be call'd their owne.
And why should we our Rich-men so commend
That giue faire Legacies before their end;
Since Iudas well we know, of all men worst
Gaue dying, all he had, yet dy'd accurst:
Yet these men giue but part, Iudas gaue all,
(May English-Iewes be warn'd by Iudas fall.)
O then let Time, whose ripe occasion brings
A blest successe vnto the best of Kings.
Excite you Rich-men, both in life and death,
But most in life, to cheare such with your breath;
The breath of life, food, rayment, and the like,
As at your doores send out their rufull shrike.
Shut not your Eares, for be you sure of this,
Shutting from them, you shall be shut from blisse;
Take them into your houses, for we reede,
Some haue receiued Prophets in their weede.
For if you open not vnto the poore,
How shall you enter when you knocke at doore
Of Sions Pallace? For, approu'd wee see
Saints minister to Saints necessitie.
Be then your selues, and with Zacheus giue,
Not on your Death-beds, but now whilest you liue,
And are in health, for such shall haue reward,
Though not on Earth, yet surely afterward;
And their reward shall be so much the more
As they were open-hearted to the poore.
But 'las how many Spunges now there be
Which soake the needie, and with crueltie
Oppresse the silly Orphane? It is true,
Too many be there of this wicked crew,
That pester this sweete Iland, with the cryes
Of poore distressed soules, whence vengeance hies
With fethered speed, to make these great-ones know
“There is a God aboue that sees below;
And can discusse each secret, and has power
To punish the rich when they the poore deuoure.
Deare Noboth cryes, and none doe pittie him,
While Ahab sleepes securely in his sinne;
Naboth must loose his Vineyard, true he must
“For what's vniust, by Greatnesse is made iust.
His ground lyes fitly for him, and he will
Either obtaine it, or his Neighbour kill:
For if the poore-man chance but to denie it,
He meanes with some forg'd Title to come by it:
So as by force he's stript of land and all,
'For th'Prouerbe holds, the weakest goes to th'wall.
But heare me rich-man whom so ere thou be
That triumphs thus in others miserie:
When thou hast purchast what thou didst desire,
Be sure Oppression must not loose her hire;
For there's a Iudgement, and a sharpe one too,
Will startle thee, though thou art carelesse now.
Then wil poor Naboth, whom thou here didst wrong
Witnesse against thee, while thy faltering tongue
Without defence, with silence charm'd shall be,
Yeelding to all that is obiect'd 'gainst thee.
How fearefull will that sentence then appeare,
When death and horror shall be euery where?
When gastly spirits summon thee to hell,
And thou art forct to bid thy ioyes farewell:
“Where cruel worms shall eate thy hart-strings out
“Where grones & grieues, sighs, shrikes sound all about.
What is the fruit then of Oppression? Sure
That Vale of Tophet which shall ere endure.
And make him draw an euer-loathing breath,
Dying in life, and liuing in a death.
O then how happie hee that so doth liue
As th'one hand knows not, what the other giue.
Dispencing freely, what he doth possesse
Of all his substance, which doth well expresse
His loue to God, whose Mansion is aboue,
Bearing his Image such especiall loue;
For God hath promis'd such to liue for euer,
“Sith he himselfe doth loue a chearefull Giuer.
O that this flowrie Ile, whose sacred name
Makes her recorded in the Booke of fame;
Where Times-illustrate Trophies show her glory,
“So well display'd in many auncient storie;
Would scourge these Gold adorers for exemple,
“All Symmoniacke patrones out ath Temple:
So should the Gospell, Ophyrs purest gold,
Be more esteem'd then to be bought or sold;
So should we haue in Sion Shepherds store,
VVhich come not in at window, but at dore:
So should our Church resume her golden Age;
And learning freely get a Parsonage.
So should good Shepherds make their flocks encrease
And know their office not to flea nor fleece.
So should our Church be as it ought to be,
Not subiect to smooth-faced Symonie.
So should our Church-men gain them more esteeme,
“Seeme what they be, and be the same they seeme.
So should th'Donation of a Benefice
Ayme at a man of Merit, not of price;
So should Gods house be honour'd more then now,
Hauing such Pastours as might tell vs how.
O Patrones if you knew how ill it were,
To make the Church a Mart, or publique faire:
Where Magus-like you sell the Churches good,
If this I say you rightly vnderstood;
You would accurse the Riches you haue got
By such synister meanes: and wish your lot
Had beene Employment in the Common-weale,
(Though on the mean'st condition) then to steale,
Purloyne, embezle what the Church doth owe,
Which you on lust and ryot doe bestow.
Much better were't to begge from doore to doore,
Then being Rich, to make Gods Temple poore.
For well I wot the Fathers Symonie,
Layes heauie curse on his posteritie.
And that foundation which is so begunne,
Seldome succeedes from Father to the Sonne.
For this we know approu'd by sacred writ,
Which comprehends the mysteries of wit;
Not humane but diuine, where Treasures store
Are lockt vp from the proud, and ope to th'poore.
That though the Rich seeme in aboundance blest,
And now Secure sayes, Now soule take thy rest.
Yet all this Blisse continues but a day,
For Night will come and take his soule away.
Yea, though the Rich-men of the world doe seeme,
Like a Bay-tree, whose leaues be euer greene;
Yet their foundations stand not on firme ground,
“For comming back their place shall not be found.
But for the Righteous and his hopefull seede,
Who euer saw them forc't to begge their bread.
Sure Dauid did not (as himselfe hath told)
Though he was young and liu'd till he was old.
O how the best of Blessings are abus'd,
Good in themselues and if discreetly vs'd.
Natures indowments, but deprau'd we see,
And count them worst of any things that be.
For it's the best of Fortunes complement,
To ayme in Riches at the soules content;
Which planted on the soueraigne of blisse,
Makes what is ours in Essence one with his.
But such as ayme at honour, and by art
Of smooth insinuation, make their heart
A stranger to their Language, to obtaine
A little earthly profit; What is their gaine
But th'Guerdon of Ambition? Which aspires
Too high, to reach the port of her desires.
Yea, I may say, if ere we could espie
A Cammell haled through a Needles eye;
Or any worke how difficult so ere,
Accomplisht by a Pigmey: we may here
Produce the like, nay, I may say farre more,
For like to this was nere produc'd before.
“For it's a Sentence that's alreadie giuen,
“It's hard for Rich-men to inherite heauen.
Such men indeed as are by wealth inricht,
To make their gold their God, their Chest their Christ.
Gold maks not rich, whence is that Prouerb growne
So common now: Content is worth a Crowne.
For many poore-men richer farre we see,
Through their content, then such as Richest be.
Old Chremes in the Poet rakes for pelfe,
And to enrich his heire torments himselfe.
Which when his Son has got (marke th'misers care)
He spends as fast on lust and luscious Fare.
Bare were his Fathers dishes, Bedding meane,
Home-spun his Coat, his chop-falne cheeks as leane;
Hunger his Sauce, his Recreation paine,
To tell his Gold and put it vp againe.
Yet see the fruit of's labour, and his end,
What th'Father could not vse, the Sonne can spend.
For true it is which was auerr'd by one,
“A scraping Father makes a sporting Sonne.
Well knowne that maxime is (tho th'instance euill,
Happie's that sonne whose Father goes to th'Deuill.
Many we reade of, that were like to these,
As Hermon, Phædon, and Hermocrates:
The first whereof was so enthrall'd to wealth,
As he contemn'd the Benefit of health;
And seeing that there was no remedie,
But he must yeeld to frayle mortalitie:
To shew that Loue he bore to wealth before,
He made himselfe his owne Executour.
Next Phædon was, who seeing death at hand,
Commanded such as did about him stand;
That when he was departed, streight they should,
Stitch in his winding sheete peeces of gold,
For sure (quoth he) I am, those Iudges three
Which be in hell, will soone corrupted be;
If they but see this Gold, and so shall I
By bribing Hell obtaine my libertie.
But of all others that Hermocrates
May be esteemed for the vain'st of these,
Who when he saw that fatall time was come,
That he must die, command'd them build a Tombe
Of purest Gold, and that there should be layd
Three bags of Gold as Pillowes for his head;
For if (quoth he) our death as it's exprest,
Be but a sleepe, in which we seeme to rest,
Till that our soules such priuiledge obtaine,
To re-assume their Bodies once againe.
Small is the rest which I am like to haue,
Without this blest companion in my Graue.
And heare me friends, good cause I haue to doubt it,
Since while I liu'd, sleepe could I nere without it.
O if we knew what wealth were in content,
And how a verie little's competent
To Nature, we would learne what Scriptures teach,
Desiring rather to be good than rich.
For goodnesse is a lasting Epithyte,
And giues vs knowledge of that Infinite
Which is transcendent, if then vnderstood
“It is the best of Richesse to be good.
And sure methinkes three causes there should be,
Might moue vs hate all super fluitie
In these respects: First, they inconstant are
And subiect to mutation; next, the care
They bring to their possessour: last of all
They force vs from Gods Prouidence to fall.
Which violation slaueth some we see,
Falling from God vnto Idolatrie.
For though this Golden Calfe of Horeb stand,
Not open to the World, yet this Land
Hath many priuate Baalites, I feare,
Which more affection to their Idoll beare,
Then to their Maker: and though they haue art
To hide their Guilt, they worship't with their heart.
And hath not then this Iland cause to mourne,
To see her people thus to Baals turne,
And leaue their God? Yes, she has cause to show
At no time more effects of Griefe then now:
Where this Souls-dropsie, thirstie Auarice
Enforceth Rich-men to Idolatrise;
Who, when they haue cram'd vp their Chests with store,
The more they haue, they couet still the more.
And whereto tends all this? If we might stay,
Or going hence beare our estate away:
There were some reason of our care to get,
And yet no cause of our adoring it.
But neither borne to stay, nor beare it hence,
Thus to admire it, it is foolishnesse.
For know Rich-man a shrowd shall be thy store,
“This poore men haue, & Rich-men haue no more.
“But haste the Muse to what is knowne of thee,
“As thou wast borne to't, write of Pouertie.

Of Pouertie.

Now vnto thee that art contemn'd of all,
Derided, spurned, forced from the wall
Vnto the kennell, do I frame my speech,
That I thy selfe some patience might teach.
And moue withall such as doe heare thee cry,
“But stop their Eares, to some more charitie.
Take comfort then, for thou shalt see on earth,
Most of thy coate to be of greatest worth.
Though not in state, for who ere saw but merit,
Was rather borne to begge than to inherit;
Yet in the Gifts of Nature, we shall finde,
A ragged Coate oft haue a Royall minde.
For to descend to each distinct degree,
By due Experience we the same shall see.
If to Pernassus where the Muses are,
There shall we finde their Dyet very bare:
Their houses ruin'd, and their well springs dry,
Admir'd for nought so much as Pouertie.
Here shall we see poore Æschylus maintaine
His Nighterne studies with his Daily paine;
Pulling vp Buckets (but 'twas neuer knowne)
That filling others, he could fill his owne.
Here many more discerne we may of these,
As Lamachus, and poore Antisthenes;
Both which the sweetes of Poesie did sipp,
Yet were Rewarded with a staffe and scripp:
For I nere knew, nor (much I feare) shall know it,
Any die rich, that liu'd to die a Poet.
If to Profession of the Law we goe,
We find the best Practisioners proue so;
For such we count the best, as will not be
(For Conscience-sake) corrupted with a fee;
Whilest others of lesse Conscience farre, than wit,
Thinke him not wise, cannot dispence with it.
If to the Plow-man, who doth till the Land,
And gets himselfe a liuing by his hand:
Oft we shall finde for all his early care,
Continuall labour, and his slender fare;
His hopefull crop hath not his wisht successe,
Or something else mis-carries, more or lesse;
Which questionlesse, is to the Plowman sent,
To try him with, and make him patient.
Yea, we shall see that Fortune beares a hate,
In euery order, ranke, degree, and state:
To men of most demerit: th'cause may be,
Fortune is blind and cannot merit see:
Or for because her selfe is ignorant,
Shee giues the wittall, lets the wittie want,
Desiring onely such men to aduance,
As honour her and fauour ignorance.
And sure me thinkes, an instance may be giuen,
Euen in these sacred Ministers of Heauen;
Such I doe meane who honour much the Lord
In Reuerent dispensing of his Word,
Breaking the Bread of life with due respect,
Yet are Rewarded with a meere Neglect:
Reaping for their deserts no other Grace,
Then some poore stipend, or a Curates place.
This is their hyre, while others lesse deseruing
In Conuersation, Graue respect and learning
Eate of the fat, Non-residence must serue,
Feeding themselues, while their poore flockes doe sterue:
Such were those Abby-lubbers who could sleepe,
And fleece their flocks, but seldome feed their sheep.
These like to Drones (for so they seeme to me)
Liue on the Labours of th'Industrious Bee:
For while the Bee (to make her honey-combe)
Romes here and there: these dronelike stay at home,
And eate the fruit (so be these Lubbars fed)
For which the Bee so truely laboured.
Call vp thy spirits then, who ere thou be
That are distrest by meanes of Pouertie.
For this thou see'st descendeth in a Bloud,
And claymes possession onely of the Good.
It's not our Vertues, nor the worth of men
how rare so euer, can exempt vs then
From this Affliction, but it's in our will
(Dispos'd by God) to take it well or ill.
For he that takes it as from Heauen sent,
For's better Triall and Experiment,
“Makes a right vse of what he doth sustaine,
“And for his want, shall haue a treble gaine.
Some we haue read of Rich, and others poore,
Yet being dead, we finde of them no more
Then that they were, and being now both gone,
Twixt rich and poore the difference is none.
And therefore was it shaddow'd well at these,
By that same Cynick-doggd Diogenes,
Who on a time to make a speciall vse
Of humane state went to a Charnell house,
Where store of skulls, and bones he gathered,
Of Princes, Peeres, and Beggars that were dead.
Which being done, he lay'd them in the way
Where Alexander was to passe that day;
Who in Victorious manner passing by,
Askt him the reason, why those Bones did lye
In such a frequent place? Quoth he, I know
Here be the Bones of Swaynes and Princes too,
And I haue sought (but all I did is vaine)
To know which is the Princes from the Swayne.
It's true indeed that Vertue onely giues
Life to our Name, by which it onely liues:
For outward States how glorious so ere,
Make vs but honour'd onely while we'r here,
For when the hour-glasse of our life is runne,
That admiration which we had is done,
And all that pompe and beautie of our day
By Syth of Fate is taken cleane away.
We read of in the Stories of fore tyme,
How that Redowbted Sultane Saladine,
After exployts and sundry Victories,
With which he had enlarg'd his Seignories;
Brauely atchieu'd he fell extreamly sicke,
And feeling now the sting of death to pricke,
He call'd his Chieftaine to him, who at hand,
Drew neere and askt him what was his command.
To thee (quoth Saladine) as Generall
Of my Victorious Armie doe I call,
For thou hast seene me with my Persian darts
To force a terror in the Easterne parts.
Yea well thou know'st I neuer lost the day
But still departed Conquerour away:
Yet now behold how I am captiue led,
And in my Conquests now am conquered;
For I am forc't by Deaths assault to yeeld,
And Coward-like to leaue thee in the feeld.
Hie to Damascus, where in th'open streete,
In stead of Ensignes reare this winding sheete;
And say, Behold great Saladine's bereft
Of all he had, nought but this sheete is left.
Euen he whose Temples, wreaths of Fame adornes,
Pray'd to by Kings, becomes a prey to Wormes.
Is this the end of Great ones? 'Las what then
Is th'difference twixt them and meaner men?
Little or none, to say I may be bold,
Since both had their Creation of one mould,
Both haue one forme, one feature, yet we see
In Formes alike, what different honours bee.
So as we cannot well resemble it
To any one similitude more fit
Then to some faire Brick-building, where we know
Some Brickes are plac't aboue, and some below:
These on the Spires and Turrets, whose high seate
Implie those men we spake of, that are Great.
These on the Eues, or neere the Pent-house plac't,
Shaddow those Men which liue by Time disgras't.
Yet when this Building shall be pulled downe,
And her aspiring Turrets overthrowne;
Gazing vpon those Ruines with our eye,
We cannot iudge which Brickes were low, which hie:
Yea those same Brickes perchance at next remoue,
Which were below, shall then be plac't aboue.
Others there be, these diffrent states expresse,
By a Resemblance to a Game at Chesse;
Where some are Kings, some made to guard on thē.
Some Peeres and Bishops, others meaner men;
Yet shall you hardly know them which is whether,
When they are put vp in a Bagge together.
Some haue compar'd these states vnto a Stage,
Where each haue roabes that fit their personage:
Some Princely Monarcks, others Vassayles be,
The Meane-men slau'd to Great-mens libertie.
Yet is their play no sooner end'd and done,
But they'r vnstript of th'Garments they put on.
And being disrob'd, they are no Princes more,
But those same persons which they were before.
Though some I know, that will not with their will
Put off their Suites, but loue to weare them still;
That they (belike) of people might be knowne,
Or rather this, cause they haue pawnd their owne:
“But there's no hope of such in any age,
Who make their stew their Tyre-house, streete their stage.
But heare me (starueling) now to thee I come,
That begg'st all day, yet hardly gets a crum,
How ere thou seeme afflicted and forlorne,
“Thou liu'st not halfe so poore, as thou was borne,
Now thou hast rags, tho meane God-wot they be,
But at thy Birth th'hadst nought to couer thee:
Then, if thou hadst want succour and reliefe,
Thou had no tongue to manifest thy griefe,
But now thou hast a tongue, and tho none heare thee
“Yet there is one aboue that will be neare thee:
And can auenge thee, for it's he that heares
Thy ruthfull cryes, and bottles vp thy teares.
Besides I see th'Aduantage thou may haue
Ore Richer men, in going to thy Graue:
For well I know, when they approach their end,
They must take leaue of kinsman and of friend;
Which puling come with finger in the eye,
And makes them farre vnwillinger to die.
Whiles thou in Death feeles soueraigne remedie
To all thy Griefes, and through thy Pouertie,
Importunes Death when shee doth seeme to stay,
And comming meetes him, better halfe the way:
For now at last thou thinks the Time is come
Wherein thou may'st be equall vnto some
That here dispis'd thee; and indeed thou may
“For thou hast lesse to answer for, than they.
Be this thy Recluse then, and here repose
Thy selfe a while to descant of thy woes,
And tell me when th'haste read this Poæme ore,
If thou finde not more solace then before.

Of Justice.

Now vnto thee who like the Euening star,
Sends forth the rayes of natiue glory far;
Doe I addresse my Muse: ô that she might
Haue so much power as to describe thee right!
This is a vertue that doth comprehend
All vertues in her, and indeed's the end
Whereat all good men ayme, wherein they trust,
For him we count a perfect man that's Iust.
So that of all those Vertues which we call
(For their transcendent Natures) Cardinall.
Then this same Vertue ampler there is none,
Including one in all, and all in one.
But first, that I may make her better knowne,
I will describe her Mansion and her Throne,
What she admires, who her attendance be,
Which showne, her worth the sooner you may see.
First, for her Throne it's neither high nor low,
But in an Equall or a middle row.
For high she will not by no meanes abide,
Least by her height she should be taxt of pride;
Nor so deiected, as her humble seate,
Might cause contempt of Iustice to the Great.
Therefore as she's of Vertues soueraigne Queene,
She sits enthroned in a Golden meane.
Those she admires be no Magnificoes,
No Fliers, no Flirts, nor no Ardelioes,
No slie Informers that insinuates,
No sharking Lawyers, shifting Aduocates;
No brib'd Atturneys that take dooble fees:
No, she's too good to brooke the best of these.
But rather such as Students are in Lawes,
To heart their Clients in a righteous cause,
Such as when they before her Throne appeare,
Neither are brib'd with gold, nor curb'd with feare;
These be her Darlings, these will she desire
To consort with, these onely she'l admire.
Those which attend her are deseruing men,
And will doe Iustice, right, in spite of them
That dare oppose her, for withouten these
We should see Iustice often on her knees,
Since Iustice though she speake with resolution,
Her speech is vaine, not put in Execution:
But when her followers readie are at hand,
To put in Execution her command,
Then Iustice beares a farre more gracious shew,
For what she wills, they willing are to doe.
Of all the Acts which King Cambyses did,
There was no one that better merited;
Then when he (for abuse of Iustice) made
The skin of Iudge Sysambris to be fleade,
And to deterre all others from like wrong
Caused it neere the Iudgement-seate be hong.
So pure's the Throne of Iustice, and her eye
So piercing, as there's no obliquitie,
How small so ere, which seemes to daze her light,
But quickly 'tis discerned by her sight.
Her eyes be euer open, for she knowes
That there be many which to th'world showes
No lesse then Saints, yet being try'd they'r nothing,
Yea worse then so, they'r wolues in a sheeps clothing.
Well may we thinke then, Iustice had not neede
To sleepe, when Foxes 'mongst her Lambkins feed.
And subtile Sconces shrowded oft we see
Vnder pretences of simplicitie.
But to the end I rightly may define
Th'professour of a Vertue so diuine,
Methinkes he should be one that knowledge had,
And awfull power to terrifie the bad;
A graue aspect, mixt with austeritie,
Which should be temper'd so with lenitie
That in them both he might be vnderstood,
A scourge to th'ill, a chearer of the good.
Nor is he bound to th'Letter of the Law,
For—Summum ius, Summ' est iniuria.
But with a modest exposition may
Sweeten his censure, and the sence allay.
Nor should he (as that Iudge we read of) be,
Who heard the Widdow not for equitie
But for she was still knocking at his gate,
And in her suite was so importunate
As he was forc't by her intreaties than,
To doe her right, yet fear'd not God nor man.
But such an one, as in his Makers sight
Desires to doe to euery one what's right,
And with euen Ballance weighs the poor'st that arre
As well as those men that be Richer farre;
Deserues to be professour in this time
Of such a vertue, noble, and diuine.
For if there were respect of persons had,
Much doe I feare there's many would be bad,
Who now restrayned are and kept in awe,
“Not so much for their God, as for the Law.
“For wicked men if ere they finde restraint
“Of working ill, it's feare of punishment.
But stay, me thinkes I heare a Supplicant,
Whose cause is good, yet for he is in want,
His fee-lesse Lawyers neuer are prepar'd
To ope his case, and so he's neuer heard.
True there be such, but why doth Iustice sit,
But to reforme such grieuances as it?
Is his cause good? the first in plea is his,
And though he come in Forma Pauperis;
Though some for Diues plead, some shall not chuse
But shall be forc't to plead for Lazarus.
It's true there shall: but it's so slightly done,
As th'poore mans case being open'd, he is gone,
Th'Lawer I meane, for long he will not stay
To plead his cause that has no fees to pay;
Or if he plead he doth so post it ore
As hauing done, he doe's respect no more,
Whether his threed-bare Client loose or win,
Then th'Libertine to act a sensuall sinne.
But in this place now when I come so neare,
I will insert a storie I did heare;
Which being related, though not halfe so well
As it was told, may please the Client well.
In that last Age when Rome 'gan to decline
From her first height, and that there was a time
For vicious men to follow their owne will,
Where none were great but such as would be ill.
That Hydra-headed Snake the Multitude,
In publique Court vnto the Synod sude,
That such corruptions as by Law were bred
Might by their Censures now be punished:
The discreete Senate loath for to offend
Such factious Members, did attention lend
Vnto their suite, and granted them free vse
To apprehend such as did Law abuse:
Which being done, their rage brookt no deniall,
But brought these corrupt Lawyers to their tryall:
Where such as were found guiltie, and had done
Such odious crimes, as made poore-men vndone
Were liable to th'Censure of the Court,
Which (as I reade) proceeded in this sort.
Gracchus hold vp thy hand, here art thou tride
And guiltie found (which cannot be denide)
Of many fowle abuses, such as these,
Brocage in suites, Demurrers, dooble fees,
Corruption, Subornation, nay, what's worse
To leaue the Deuill in thy Clyents purse,
Dancing and capring, for the which and more
By thee in like sort acted heretofore:
Heare what the censure of the Court has done
To thee, that hast so many ouerthrowne,
Thou and Catastes thy false Scriuiner
Shall in the publique Market-place appeare,
Where for example to Posteritie,
You both shall stand vpon the Pillorie.
Where on your backes shall be endorsed these
Three words,—Pro Euertendo Pauperes.
Which done, that Ioue may grant you absolution,
You shall be forc't to make a restitution,
For euery bribe, shift, tricke, deuise, or cheate,
Bill, Bond, Release, Indenture counterfeite,
Done, to be done, or caused to be done
By you, or your's, for friend, foe, father, sonne:
Which pennance past for Errors heretofore,
The Court awards you nere to practise more.
This Iudgement after past on two or three,
But still the people prone to mutinie;
Haled out more, nor would they be restraind
Till all their Lawyers were (well neere) arraind:
Good God how many diffrent minds were then,
Where there were far more censures then were men!
For Faction (is so strange a Natur'd Elfe)
As it agrees but seldome with it selfe.
Some cried let's whip them, others cried far lowder,
Let's burne these Vipers of our Realme to powder:
Others dislikt of that, and thought not fit,
Least as the Phænyx doth a Phænyx get
By her owne Ashes; or as we doe reade,
The Beetles ordure doth the Beetle breede;
So the Ashes of these Lawyers (which were pittie)
Might raise a dampe to poyson all the Cittie.
For if they liuing such corruption breed,
How corrupt will they be when they are dead?
While they were scaning thus, one amongst th'rest,
Starting vpright, sayd, he did thinke it best,
Since that their Crimes extended but to state
Not life, their Substance should be confiscate;
But how, quoth one? Vnto the Treasorie;
No (quoth another) to the Commonaltie:
Since well I know (and manifest it is)
The Commons purses payed well for this.
Debating thus, one of the Grauer sort
Of Law-professours stood vp in the Court,
And after due obeysance (as was fit)
To such high Peeres as did in Councell sit,
He thus began: You Conscript Fathers, you
That sit in Iudgement to giue each their due.
Thus farre haue heard, what we could speake, what they,
Now will it please you heare what I can say;
Diuerse be th'Censures which be giuen on vs,
And rightly too, for great is our abuse,
Yet well your Honours know no fault's so great
Which easie Glosses may not mitigate;
Yea, it is knowne, some Natures be so bent,
Kindnesse doth more with them then punishment.
For such to lenitie will oft submit,
When rougher termes can neuer mannage it.
Know then Graue Senators we doe allot
An ample portion of all we haue got
By fraud, collusion, or by any way
To speciall vses, but not such as they
Seeme to inioyne vs: (no my Lords) it's fit
That we, who haue encreasd our state by wit,
Aduice, wise prouidence, and pollicie,
Should not haue such fond Caruers as these be
To share our Fortunes, for it may be knowne,
They'l ill keepe ours, that could not saue their owne.
Fond Caruers (quoth the Rabble)? Yes, said he;
With that through the Court, there rose a mutinie;
But being represd, he tooke the better heede
To moue the Rout: and thus he did proceede.
We are content (therefore) to giue to th'vse
(Since we to giue can neither will nor chuse)
Of such as be depriu'd of Natiue sence,
Reason and Gouernment a competence
For to relieue them, and that there-withall
There may prouided be an Hospitall
Or house for their abode, we doe agree
A Bed-lem house b'erected speedily.
This is our will, and we doe freely giue it,
By th'mad we got it, and to th'mad we leaue it.
This was no sooner by the Lawyer sayd,
Then all approu'd it, and were well appaid;
Where th'Monster-headed Vulgar ope'd her iawes
And did confirme this doome with one applause.
This good they did that nere did good before,
Nor as it's like, will ere doe any more.
But this's a Tale which I haue heard with moe,
And I would haue it to be taken so:
For all of no Profession's good we see,
Nor all of Lawyers, nor shall euer be:
Yet if ere Iustice shin'd, may she shine here,
And make our Albyon her Hemyspheere.
That as we haue a Steward of our owne,
Who iustly weld's and beareth vp her Crowne;
So we may haue Dispencers vnder him,
Who through their Iustice may discomfit sin.

Of Iniustice.

Now vnto thee, to speake I must be bold,
Who sets the Throne of Iustice to be sold,
Who to the Orphanes cry, and Widdows teare,
Voyd of remorse of Conscience, stops thine eare;
Who shines in purple, and in it doest show,
Farre worse then that, a Purple Conscience too:
Thou that doest vayle to Great ones and doest seeke
To gratifie their Lordsships, I must speake,
For if I should be silent, whisht, or doumbe,
The stones 'ith streetes I know would haue a tong.
Thou crams thy Coffers with a suites delay,
And like an Epicure from day to day
Feedes on delicious cates, which thou doest carue
To fill thy Maw, while th'poore for Iustice sterue.
Thou Philip-like sleepes, when th'widdow cryes
For Iustice at thy hands, and rubb'st thine eyes,
And rashly doest pronounce ere well prepar'd,
Thy Iudgement in that cause thou neuer heard:
“For which the Widdow her appeale doth make
From Philip sleeping, to Philip awake.
Thou Lætharge, thou that for promotion sake,
Contemnes thy soule, ruines that soueraigne state,
Which giues vs perfect Essence, thou that sleepes
When poore mens causes come to plea, but keepes
Thine eyes, thine eares, and euery facultie,
That thou in them might Rich-men gratifie.
For well thou know'st that wretches of this sort,
Either haue done, or will annoynt thee for't.
And yet thou snorts on still, making that Throne
Where Iustice vs'd to sit, a place vnknowne
To any that professeth her, whose sight
Eclipsed is, when right's put downe by might;
And loe, how right's supprest by thee proud whoor,
That makest the rich to triumph ore the poore.
Thou that contemns the weake and desolate,
Making them call for vengeance at thy gate:
Thou that hoords ire against the day of ire,
And shalt sustaine that soule consuming fire,
Endlesse in her consumption: it is thou
Which ruines ample Prouinces, where grew
Trophies of honour once, but through thy shame,
Haue lost their greatnesse, honour, worth, and fame.
For whence is th'Prouerbe spoke so commonly,
“Iustice's a Relique of Idolatry:
But as in auncient time when Idols were
So much ador'd and reuerenc'd euery where;
And Oracles, predictions of each state,
Told foolish people what should be their fate;
These Pagan Gods (or Deuils) would not tell
Ought good to them, that did not please them well,
No more will Iustice (or Iniustice rather)
(For this by times obseruance may gather)
Approue of any cause, how firme or iust
So ere it be, till shee be bribed first.
Or this same Prouerbe may produce good sence,
If it be not mis construed from hence;
As simple men thought none could happie be,
But such as reuerenc'd their Idolatrie;
Offring their Iewels, ornaments, and store,
To make their Idols rich, themselues as poore:
Supposing them thrice blessed, that could come
To heare good tydings from Apolloes tongue;
Whereas in deede if they the truth could seeke,
It was their Gifts which made Apollo speake.
So may we see men labour to this end,
To get, Sir Reuerence, Iustice, for their friend,
Which when they haue attain'd, they set no more
By all those doubts which they were in before,
Then doth the Sea-bit Mariner esteeme,
When he's a-land, those dangers he hath seene,
For why he knowes, he has a Patron got,
Who what his cause is, greatly standeth not;
For well he sees the Law is in his will,
To make the ill seeme good, the good seeme ill.
These be those Spiders that obscure the shine
of Iustice, which's depraued through the tyme
Wherein they liue, while Cripple Iustice halts,
Entituling th'Seruant to the Maisters faults.
For it's not th'fault of Iustice, but of Time,
To taxe the Seruant for the Masters crime.
But from Iniustice now must I descend,
To others Subiects, wishing that an end
Of their depraued Raigne may soone appeare,
Who staine with purple sins the Robes they weare;
Thus from thy foule infection I'le remoue me,
Meaning to leaue thee since I cannot loue thee.

Of Fate.

Fate, sayth the Ethnicke, is a firme decree,
Which, though foreseene, may not preuented be
Wherby (poore snakes) by pur-blind fate they'r set
Like Bedlam fooles, to dance in Errours net.
Others haue grounded this opinion too,
Which some approue, and others disallow,
That in this vale of anguish, euery Man
Hath some one Angell for his Guardian;
And that our Fortune good or bad shall be
As those same Angels keepe vs companie;
If Good-ones be our Guardians, O then
By their attendance we are happie men:
If Euill, ruine shall attend our State,
So by these two we may collect our Fate;
And from that God to whom all Angels sing,
These Angels haue their power, as from their king:
For th'good doe nought vnlesse he perfect it,
Nor ought the ill, vnlesse he them permit.
But late Diuines seeme to expound this place,
That this same Angell is the sauing Grace,
Which doth assist such as in Faith doe call,
And leaueth others to themselues to fall
By his iust Iudgement, who in's Palme containes
This globe of Earth, and tries the hearts and reines:
Which secret's so profound as humane wit,
Be't nere so sharpe, can nere attaine to it;
Let's then reserue this secrecie for him,
Who will disclose the mysterie of sinne.
Some others haue ascrib'd the sterne of State
In each degree, vnto the rule of Fate,
Whose painted forme least it inveigle vs,
I will display, and for example thus.
Suppose two men, for such a thing may be,
Should goe to th'Forrest to cut downe a tree;
Now as th'one hewes, the Hatchet chanc'd to flie
Out of the shaft, and kills him that stands by;
Yet this proceeded not, I'me sure you'l say,
From an intended purpose any way,
Either of him did kill, or him was slaine,
But from this Fate which Poets seeme to faine,
Ascribing her such power, as there's small odds,
Twixt her effects, and those celestiall godds,
Whose vnconfined will is sayd to be,
Sole regent, both in heauen, in earth, and Sea;
But what were all these Pagan powers but vaine,
Forged conceits hatcht from an humane braine:
Let's then, because this Simile doth borrow
Farre lesse of ioy, then it receiues from sorrow,
Confirme this Subiect which is drawne from Fate
By some Similitudes occasion'd late,
Which relish more of pastime then of weight,
“For light is Fate, and should be handled sleight:
Vpon a time it chanced that I came
To Gottam, a small Towne nere Nottingham,
About which time they kept a solemne wake,
Where euery liuely Lad tooke in his Make,
Each Lasse her Lad, so as you need not feare,
But ere they parted they made dancing deare;
Amongst the rest a frolicke youth there was,
Who tooke to him a lustie bouncing Lasse;
Vp went the Crowd, the Viole, and the Fiddle,
While he right smoothly takes her by the middle,
Beginning with a Kisse, for so they doe it,
Which done, right mannerly they went vnto it.
Lightly he caper'd, youth is free from care,
And shee as nimble, bates him not a haire;
But long they had not danc'd, till this yong Maid,
In a fresh Stammell Petticote aray'd,
With vellure sleues, and bodies tied with points,
Began to feele a loosenesse in her ioynts;
So as about the May pole while she tripps,
Downe fell her vnder-bodie from her hipps,
And show'd the Naked truth, for all espide it,
Till one lent her his Cloake that she might hide it.
Now pray you say whom ought we most to blame,
Fate, or the Taylor rather for the same,
Or neither both, but th'fashion sure I weene,
'But for her points she had not naked beene;
So as it may a Caueat be to such,
Who vse to stand vpon their points too much.
Another accident there chanc'd of late,
May seeme to haue some reference vnto Fate;
A case in Law was argued in our Court,
With much delight, proceeding in this sort:
Renowned Humber, for Records haue found,
That Humber with his vanquishd Hunns were drownd
In her imperious Surges, keepes a shore
A Boate to waft way-faring people ore;
'Mongst other Passengers were ferried ouer,
Chanc'd to resort a Pedler and a Drouer,
Both at one time; the Drouer he did bring
Sheepe to the Faire, which he was carrying,
Of Ewes good store (right Butcher-ware) there came
And 'mongst the rest a bonnie butting Ram,
Whose awfull front the rest securely kept,
And all this while the Cup-shot Pedler slept.
With many a nod drawne from his drowsie braine,
Which th'Ram obserues, and butts at him againe;
The Pedler now, feeling belike some smart,
With such like words as these began to thwart
The carelesse Ram, Sir I am at a word,
Butt you at mee, I'le butt you ouer-boord.
And not one word the Pedler could speake more,
Till he began to nod iust as before;
Wherewith th'incensed Ram thinking he ment
To push at him, so fierce a stroake him lent
As his distemper'd Noddle seem'd dismaid,
With violent assault his hornes had made:
Yet part through griefe and anguish which he felt,
He now resolu'd to wash the Rams white pelt,
Which he perform'd, his fury to discouer,
And roundly takes the Ram and throwes him ouer;
The louing Ewes seeing their Sweet-hart swim,
Resolu'd with one consent to follow him;
Which th'Lawyer in his pleadings noting than,
“Brother (quoth he) this was a lustie Ram,
For much I doubt whether our wiues or no,
If we should be thus vs'de would follow so.
But to be briefe, not any one was found,
Of all the Drouers flocke, which was not drown'd,
So as a Suite's commenc'd betwixt these twaine,
Wherein the Plaintiffe seemeth to complaine,
And by petition humblie doth craue
That for his losse he some reliefe may haue;
Which how it was determin'd by the Lawes,
Being (me thinkes) a Presidentall cause,
I will not now insist on, but discusse
What Fate decree'd herein, and briefly thus.
When th'Pedler met the Drouer, his intent
Concurr'd not, questionlesse, with this euent,
Nor meant he any harme vnto his sheepe,
When he exempt from care fell fast a sleepe;
Nor gaue he the occasion, but the Ram,
Who with his furious force awak'd the man,
Nor was he to be blam'd when he did ayme
To take Reuenge, The worme will turne againe.
Where was the fault then? you will say in Fate;
No, not in her but in the Pedlers pate:
Or to ascribe more properly the fault
Nor Fate nor Pate were cause of this but Malt.
One other instance I will here produce,
Which I by way of Supposition vse,
A forme which I approue so much the rather,
'Cause from Supposes none offence can gather.
A friend inuites another to his house.
Whose presence after growes iniurious
Vnto his Reputation, for he growes
More inward with his wife then each man knowes,
And this continues, yet who can descrie
The slie effects of Louers priuacie,
Obseruing such a watch, as neither wit,
Art, or Suspicion may discouer it.
Now vnto whom should we impute the blame,
To him that caus'd him come, or him that came,
{So} vnto Fate, since he by accident
Vnto the house as one invited went?
If we should skan whence th'first effect did spring,
We properly may lay the fault on him
Who through the too much confidence he had,
Gaue way vnto his wife, and made her bad,
So as my Iudgement is, the case so stands,
As he may take his hornes in his owne hands;
For nere had he run on Dishonors shelfe,
Or gain'd him infamie, but through himselfe.
Or else we may ascribe't to Womans will,
Which hath a Natiue pronenesse vnto ill;
So as what will be will be, and what man
May force a woman doe more than she can?
And my opinion's this, it is no boote
To curbe a Wench, that is inclind'd vnto't,
For be shee in restraint or libertie,
Her eye still waits for opportunitie;
Which got, she's so resolu'd as she will venter
To taste delight should thousand eyes preuent her.
Yea, on my conscience, though I nere haue tride it,
I durst protest the more they are denide it,
The liker are they when fit time they finde,
To serue their iealous husbands in their kinde:
For though we force them euer to obey,
And to make sure worke, vse both Locke and Key,
Italian-like, yet when the time shall come,
Be sure we may that they will hitt vs home;
For this my firme Position still shall be,
“Hornes can we not preuent, though we foresee.
But all too long our Pen seemes to dilate,
Vpon this pur-blind Goddesse, Pangan

Nisi cor tuum esset fatuum, non crederes Fatum. Aug.

Fate:
If we doe good, as few are our good deedes,
Let vs conclude that good from God proceedes:
If ill, as many ills doe we commit,
Vpon our selues let's lay the cause of it;
So like true Christians we will euer hate,
To take from God that we may adde to Fate.
“Thus Fate's a Panim Idoll; onely He
“Disposeth vs, by whom wee onely be.

Of Death.

Death is a passage, and if vnderstood,
A gratefull messenger vnto the good,
By which they passe from this same house of clay
To Syons Court, where they shall liue for aye.
Why should Death then a terrour be, since it
Is made the Meanes, by which we freedome get?
Here are we Pilgrimes, and though store I haue,
Yet for all this I am but Fortunes slaue;
Subiect to euery hazard, and am faine
To keepe with care, what I haue got with paine.
Yea, tell me thou that in all honour liues,
And wantest nothing, had'st thou neuer grieues
To discontent thee? Or if thou wer't free
From discontents; did nere mortalitie
Vrge thee to Dissolution? Thou wilt say,
Thou had'st in deede, but soone they went away;
And gone, thou hast forgot those griefes as cleane
As if thou nere had felt, what they had beene.
Vnhappie wretch, this is thy too-much pride
To vaunt of those, should make thee mortifide,
For griefes be Passions, which may caution thee,
To thinke thou art not where thou ought'st to be;
Which thou may hence collect: A traueller
Hauing through many a desert wandred far.
And now returning home, he is at rest
From th'care with which he was before opprest.
But thou wilt say: thou once was of that minde,
When thou had no estate to leaue behinde,
When thy attendance was of reckoning small,
Thy fare but meane, thy honour none at all:
When thou in th'eye of worldly men did seeme
Of that contempt as if thou hadst not beene;
But now the case is altered, and doest hate
To thinke on death, since thou hast raisd thy state.
What argument this is, thou streight shall see,
Scanning those things which seeme to hinder thee.
Me thinkes a Pilgrime farre from his abode,
And in his trauayle pressed with a load,
Should much desire (hauing beene wearied
With that he bore) to be disburdened:
And so should thou, if thou could'st feele thy selfe,
Desire to be disburdened of thy pelfe,
Which as a load, to many men is giuen,
And makes the way seeme tedious towards heauen.
Yea, sure I am, there is no man drawes breath,
If he haue hope in after-Time, but death
Will seeme as pleasant, and as well accepted,
As if he had obtayn'd what hee expected.
For well he see's, his Labours haue an end,
His foes are quell'd, and he shall haue a friend,
Which will receiue him, where such ioyes appeare,
As farre surpasse these comforts he had here.
It's true indeed, that many are dismayd.
When they doe see death on a wall portrayd,
They like not his proportion, for he breeds
Diuerse distractions in their troubled heads:
Whence ist we see so many soules depart
With eyes deiected, and with heauie heart.
For why, Distrust they haue ere to entreate
Pardon of God, because their sinn's so great.
Wretched these, in that they entertaine,
That hideous sinne hatcht first by odious Caine,
Crying with him, and with him I must leaue them,
“So great's our sinnes, the Lord can nere forgiue them.
More could I speake, for subiect had I more,
But some perchance will say I spoke before
Of Death in Fate, but these as seemes to me,
Should not confounded but distinguishd' be;
“For this twixt Fate and Death's the difference,
“Fate doth ordaine, Death is the ordinance.

TO HIM VVHOM TRVE MERIT HATH ENNOBLED;

THE RIGHT HONORABLE IOHN EARLE OF BRIDGE-WATER VICOVNT Brackley, the accomplishment of his selectéedst wishes.

Hatcht in the nest of Honor, you are blest,
In hauing vertues to support your nest;
For though you'r grac'd by birth, and great by Bloud,
I more admire this Title, you are good.
For this (as it true greatnesse doth expresse)
Shall Crowne your Honor with all Happinesse.
But natiue vertue needs no Artfull Bayes;
“Vertue her selfe's her prize, her selfe her prayse.

THE AVTHOR CONTINVES HIS FORMER DISCOVRSE, Anatomizing Man more fully in these foure Subiects.

1. Preparation. 2. Securitie. 3. Court-ship. 4. Hospitalitie.

Of Preparation.

Qui se minus parat, periet.

Well was it spoken by the Oratour,
That in each worke we should prepare before
We did attempt, least too much rashnesse breede
A strange euent, for want of good take heede.
It's true indeed, for if we should dilate
On euery Fortune, ranke, degree, and state,
We should find out by due experience,
Nought fits successe so well as Prouidence.
For as in Armies, Chiefetaines doe prepare,
To ranke their Souldiers, and haue speciall care
That euery Troupe be rightly ordered,
To th'end their Hopes may be accomplished.
Or as in Builders, ere they will assay
To reare the walls, they first will make a way
For the foundation, that the ground-worke layd,
What they intend may better be assayd.
Or as in Plow-men, let this instance be,
Though last, yet first for their antiquitie;
First till the ground, as they doe thinke it neede,
Before they sow in it their hopefull seede;
So should each man before he doe depart,
Till and manure the furrowes of his heart,
That th'Earthly seed of his corruption may
Put incorruption on another day.
And like that holy Father, whom we reade,
That sleeping, waking, or what ere he did,
He heard this Summons sounding in his eare,
“Arise ye Dead to Iudgement come appeare.
Or that Deuout and Blest Anachorite,
Who thought himselfe still in his Sauiours sight;
And therefore fear'd to act ought that was ill,
Seeing his Iudge was present with him still.
But 'las how few now in the world be,
That thinke the Lord their secret sins can see,
Whilest working what is ill, they think't no shame
To violate the glorious stile or name
Of their profession, (and it seemes no lesse)
By seeming goodnesse, seeming holinesse.
“Many we haue can till the fruitfull ground,
“But for mind-tillage few or none are found.
How foolish, and how carelesse then are we,
To spoyle our soules for want of husbandry?
I know not how some others thinke of it,
But sure to me, it were a matter fit,
That we should make our preparation here,
Now whil'st we liue, least when we shall appeare
Before that Throne (as we of force must come)
Hearing our crimes, we stand (as men are dumbe)
Nothing to speake, whence shall ensue our hyre,
Depart yee hence into eternall fire.
Many there be, preparing still we see,
To raise a state to their Posteritie;
Which with as prodigall a hand is spent,
(For many times they know not how it went)
As ere their Dung-hill Fathers scraped it,
“For what's ill got should goe as ill, it's fit.
Others there be to gaine their pleasures, will
Prepare themselues t'attempt the worst of ill,
No worke's too great, no instrument too fowle,
(Though't raze their name, & damne their precious soule,)
Is vn-assai'd, till they their pleasure get,
Which once obtain'd, Repentance vshers it.
Others, for Honours, with ambitious wings,
Soare to the Crownes, and Diadems of Kings:
These will prepare their Engines to attaine,
What they expect, and what they make their ayme
Must be atchieu'd: there is no other way,
Hence is't they care by night, and carke by day.
And yet behold what fruit Ambition giues,
Her care's her curse, her-selfe of life depriues;
“For of all others, seldome seene I haue,
“Ambition goe gray-headed to her graue.
Others I see, which I am loath to see,
For it includeth Albyons miserie:
Prepare themselues, not as those Virgins did,
To haue their Lamps with oyle replenished:
But with adulterate Beauties, to ensnare
Our yongling Gallants, and with brayded hayre
In Azur'd brests layd open, painted cheeke,
Loose wandring eyes, their lustfull obiects seeke.
Which sought & found, that obiect which they spie,
Makes seeming fancie sparkle in their eye.
These with as varied formes (as we doe reade
Proteus ere had) change their phantasticke weed
From day to day (ô Heauen suppresse this sin)
For blest were we, if it had neuer bin.
But yet, for all this garish Vanitie,
Read but a Lecture of Mortalitie
To these She-Sainted Idolls, you shall finde,
Some small impressions of a Vertuous minde;
As such as haue their eyes vpon the Booke
Of sacred Writ, yet how ere they looke
Vpon the Text, the Preacher's busied in,
This Text's a Pretext, but to hide their sin:
“For how so ere their eyes may seeme to stay,
“Fixt on the Text, their heart's another way.
But know (faire pictures) though with many formes
You deceiue men, you cannot deceiue wormes.
Nor will th'account (that great account) you owe,
For all your trimnes be dispen'st with so.
Prepare you better Garments then be these,
For these I thinke will not your Maker please:
Making you such strange Monsters, as I doubt
His doome will be: Away I know you not.
Some more I see, which full as busie are
How to sow difference, and therefore care
Onely to gayne themselues a faire estate,
By others wrong, oppression, and debate.
These too prepare (but not as I could wish)
Their Nets, that they in others States may fish,
And slily too, lay their pretended Suites,
Filling their Clients heads with thousand doubts;
Protesting (God forgiue them) it would please
Them very well, their Client were at peace:
When priuately, with a dissembling heart,
They vow as much vnto the aduerse part.
Yet this's a sinne which craues a libertie,
Because our Lawes giue it impunitie;
And reason good (so's Conscience tyde to pelfe)
As th'best I know, may punish't in himselfe.
Many more of this sort I know there is,
Which make their preparation, but amisse;
Few so exactly doe it, as they should,
Which makes me speake more boldly then I would;
But he that curbs Me for't, I'le answer him,
I know not how to blush in taxing sinne,
Nor will I spare him though his splene should burst,
“But curse those vices which my God hath curst.
Yet with compassion, for I know I am
My selfe that writes, as subiect to the same
As they to whom I write: Yea I doe know
Till I haue pay'd to Nature what I owe,
There is no fact how great so ere it be
Committ'd by one, but may be done by me,
If he who in the heauens hath soueraigne place,
Should not preuent me by his speciall grace.
Yet I doe wish, and I am sure of this,
That Charitie's producer of my wish,
Each would prepare for one, that when we goe
From this same Vale of teares, and Sea of woe
To the iudicious triall of Gods Throne,
Each might be fit to giue account for one.
So euery soule might with affiance say
Vnto her God, in that same dreadfull day,
Thou bad and I obey'd, and being tride,
Like to fine Gold my soule was purifide:
“Thou wil'd, I went, thy loue was my delight,
“I sought, thy Grace did crowne me in the fight.
If this indeed were weigh'd, as it should be,
Men would depart from hence more willingly;
Knowing how Death would be a meanes to giue
Life to our soules, and make vs euer liue.
Some haue I knowne, who for the same intent
Haue in their life time rear'd their Monument,
That when so ere they look'd vpon their Tombe,
They might conceiue what would of them become.
Which Shebna did, (as we in Scripture reade)
Who built his Tombe before that he was dead;
And this proceedes from doubt in many one,
Of th'heires neglect when that the Father's gone;
But see what Fate poore Shebna had, for he
Hauing prepar'd a Tombe so gorgeously,
As Art and Nature could not both inuent
A more exact or curious Monument,
Enforced was (vaine man) through times disgrace,
To take his Buriall in another place.
This speake I not for to deterre such men,
(Sith such praise-worthie rites I honour them)
From their Endeuours, as desire to haue
Themselues and theirs successors in one graue:
For, it's a custome which may seeme to be,
Authoriz'd by diuine authoritie;
Sith auncient Patriarchs, and those which came
From Iacob, Isaac, and Abraham,
Were (as in sacred Writ is oft times red)
With their deceased Fathers buried.
Yea, there is nought I of my friends doe craue
More, then to lye within my Fathers graue:
That whom I liuing lou'd, taking my breath
From him, I may renew my loue in death.
But herein I doe taxe their vanitie,
Who doe prepare them Tombs where they may lye
In State like Princes, and doe glorie in
Those monumentall couers of their sinne;
Yet are respectlesse where their soules shall dwell,
This Preparation doth not like me well.
For it's preposterous, this couer should,
(Being compos'd of nothing else then mould)
Haue such exceeding honours to attend it,
While th'Soule has not one vertue to defend it.
Pure is the Bodies shrine, but filthie foule
Is that same shrowd, which doth enfold the soule.
This is the cause that makes me to deplore
These times so ill, that were so good before:
Where vertue raign'd, and as a soueraignesse,
Made the Soule glorie in her happinesse.
Where pure Deuotion, as an heauenly light,
Directed man to doe those things were right:
Where th'soule was precious held, and whose chiefe care
Was 'gainst the day of Vengeance to prepare.
Least vnprepar'd to answer for their sinne,
They knocke at gate, but may not be let in.
Well did that holy Father thinke of this,
(Which to obserue each of vs I could wish)
Who euery night before he went to bed,
To make this due account was 'customed,
Goe to my Soule, vse not a slight delay,
But answer me, What hast thou done to day?
What hast committed of those workes are ill,
Or what omitted that thou shoul'dst fulfill?
Whom hast thou wrong'd, whom hast thou iniured,
Where be those hungry, wch thou shuld'st haue fed?
Whō hast opprest? whence comes the orphanes tere,
The Widdows prayer? Soule, I must iudge thee here,
Least by deferring Iudgement to the last,
I pay more deare, for th'Actions which be last.
Thrice happie soule, that is so well prouided,
Before his soule from bodie be deuided:
With chearefull spirit may he hence depart,
With eyes erected, and with lightsome heart:
With soule-renewing comforts, and with peace,
With hope, with health, with Saints compleate encrease;
With zeale, with ioy, with hope of libertie,
To rest in him who ends our miserie.
O may we so liue in vnited loue,
That ones example may another moue;
So by Examples we at last shall come,
With ioy and triumph to the marriage-roome.

Of Securitie.

Si securus, vres.

No vice I thinke, that euer was, or is,
Endāgers th'soule of man, so much as this.
Which that I may define, it seemes to be
The sleepe of sin, or the soules Lethargie,
Sencelesse, and carelesse of what ere befall,
Secure then, when she should most of all
Stand on her guard, nor is she 'fraid a whit
Of any harme, till she encounter it.
This Vice consorts with such as loue to feede,
And cram themselues: where she doth vse to breed
These perturbations in the minde of Man,
Whence th'Source of our Corruption first began.
Lust, ryot, sloth, contempt of Godlinesse,
Pride, dissolution, and forgetfulnesse
Of what we are, exposing (O most fowle)
The glorious substance of an heauenly soule,
Vnto the basest seruitude, that is,
To wit, th'delights of Earthly vanities.
Yea, I may say there is no Vice at all
That makes th'Soules motion so vnnaturall
Vnto her selfe, as doth Securitie:
Since th'Soule, which should in action euer be,
Becomes by her, slothfull, remisse, and dull,
Prest by a Belly that is euer full.
Many we haue that labour of this vice,
Yea, of this sinne our Great-men haue a spice;
Who with the Rich-man fare deliciously,
Are clad in purple, and neglectfully
Looke on the poore, while lulled in sinnes lapp,
They neuer mind what afterward may happ:
These giue no eare vnto the pitious mones,
Nor dolefull shrikings of distressed ones;
These are secure of their poore Brothers grieues,
“For they haue some sow pillows to their sleeues.
Euen Prelates which should peirce the eares of Kings
But they doe worse in speaking pleasant things;
For well they finde more profit's to be got
By smeering vice, as if they knew it not,
Then by displaying vices that are bred,
For this hath caus'd some to be silenced.
O age! When men that are the mouths of God,
And should not spare to shake the fearefull rod
Of his displeasure, will for some light matter,
Reuolt from God, and be induc'd to flatter:
But of all other, there's none so secure,
Or prone vnto it, as the Epicure.
For we may heare him euer bent to cry
Let's eate and drinke, to morrow we shall die.
A strange perswasion, and an Argument
As't seemes to me, from Reason different,
That shortnesse of our Time should make's forget
Our selues so much, as to be giuen to eate
When we should die: if this approu'd might be,
“There were some cause of mans Securitie.
When after Death, and that our Time is gone,
There were no farther matter to be done.
But there is something in vs, that doth show,
And tell vs plaine, our End must not be so,
Which may be prou'd by our Experience,
If we haue felt the sting of Conscience.
Yea, whatsoere our Atheist obiect,
Against that high and supreme Archi-tect,
Though now he feele it not, he must confesse,
And that with Gall of inward bitternesse,
There is a power (and that a diuine power)
Who will auenge him of the wicked doer.
But some I heare to argue in this sort,
(And with my soule I am much sorry for't:)
“This day we may enioy our pleasures; true
“And then you'l, what, begin next day anew
To vse those pleasures which you did before,
And so from day to day treasure vp store
Of Vengeance; O how fearefull is this path,
To trace you on vnto the day of wrath?
Hence you presume of God: but doe not thinke,
“That God doth sleepe, tho he may seeme to winke.
For like as in th'old World we doe reade,
When they had sported, feasted, married,
And now became as those that care-lesse were,
Through ryot, and excessiue belly-cheere:
The Flood came on them, so as we may see,
They were cut off in their Securitie:
Euen so may you, that seeme to make delay
Of your Conuersion thus, from day to day,
Be taken napping in your height of sinne,
How fearefull then's the case that you are in?
I know delight in Sinne, doth Custome bring,
And Custome to Securitie's the Spring
Which makes vs hardned (adding to Sinnes store)
Which more in number, seeme lesse then before.
But that we may, against this Hydra fight,
'First head we cut off must be sins Delight,
Which when we haue lopt off, we may begin
To take away the Custome of this sinne.
And so through want of Custome, we may free
Our selues in time of this Securitie.
O that we would consider but our dayes,
How short they are, and with how many wayes
We are enclos'd with Foes on euery side,
With inward motions, as with lust and pride:
With outward motions, as with bayts of sinne,
Where euery Sence doth let a Traytour in.
O then we would be wise, and stand in doubt,
Least these foes should get in, that now are out.
Nor can we be too warie of our foes,
Since we are pestered with some of those
Which are within our Bosome nourished,
And as our lifes more dearely tendred:
These be our houshold friends, which sting to death,
Depriuing them of life, which gaue them breath.
“And of all others none annoy men so,
“As doth a priuate or domesticke foe.
For he by subtile vnsuspected guile,
(Pretending nought but amitie the while)
Enters the Fort (and like a cunning Elfe)
Becomes a very Traytor to himselfe.
Yet so, as when his practises haue end,
This seeming friend, becomes an hellish fiend.
Yea, we shall finde his saying true, who sayth,
Securenesse brings Apostacie of Faith,
Which is approu'd in many a wretched man,
As for example in that Iulian,
Who through securitie despis'd the rod
Of Iustice, and turn'd Rebell vnto God.
Yea, many such euen in this Age we know,
Who start a-side, like to a broken Bow:
And are forgetfull (as before was said)
For what especiall purpose they were made.
Hence may I iustly taxe the Libertine,
Who idly spends the most part of his Time,
In prophanation of the Sabboth day,
And in the streetes neglectfully doth stay,
As if there were no Vineyard where he might
Labour one houre at least, before't be night:
And yet I doe not grieue for them so much,
As I in due compassion, doe for such,
Who haue beene idling, both in youth and age,
And now nere th'End of their frayle Pilgrimage:
Are now as farre from God, when they haue done,
Nay, farther too, then when they first begun.
O misery! that men who reason haue,
And now through age, haue one foote in the graue,
Should through a wilful blindnes, thus bewray
Such mad greene thoughts, now when their heads be gray.
Me thinkes those furrowes which be in their face,
Should as a Mirrour tell them here's no place
Long to dwell in, or if they would but see
Gray hayres, those Heralds of Mortalitie,
Which as predictions, Age is wont to send,
Me thinkes they might remember now their end.
But this they will not: they'l endure no Glasse,
Lest they should see how soone their time doth passe.
Sure I doe thinke, what th'Morall sayd of old,
Of all that be nought's viler to behold,
Then such a man, who many yeares hath spent,
Yet of his yeares can show no Argument,
Saue his Gray-haires: for he doth Nature wrong,
That shows no fruits how he hath liued long.
Yea, we should know great difference appeares
Twixt our expence of houres, and of yeares,
For many may be aged in the one,
Who leaue no Name behind when they are gone:
Such is th'Expence of yeares, but happie they,
Who by their houres doe measure out their day;
For when they die, the vertues of their minde,
Like a sweete Oyntment leaue their smell behinde.
Thus much in briefe of th'Vice: now't doth remaine
To speake, where this Securitie doth raigne.

Of Court-ship.

Et tacuisse nocet.

Before I enter this secure repose,
There comes such store of perfumes to my nose,
I am nere stifled: but I haue a tricke,
By meanes of Art will tutch them to the quicke;
And so disperse these sweetly

Ayming onely at such, whose sense consists in sent with reseruation of his best thoughts to the Noble affected Courtier.

sented men,
As hardly there will one appeare 'mongst ten,
And this it is: I'le canvase vp their Vices.
Their braine-sicke humors, and their strange deuices;
Their Courting, Congeing, and their Coniuring,
Their Culling, Clipping, Cringing, Capering;
Their garish weares, and apish complement,
And so I hope, I shall disperse this sent:
Which, if my footing were not all more speedie,
Might haue infected well my Braine alreadie.
Rouse then thy selfe (my Muse) and sprightly on
Vnto these men are made of Cinnamon.
Which Similee can hardly be denide.
Their rind being better then all th'bulke beside.
Me thinkes I see a new inuented State,
Of foure Coach-horses standing at the gate,
With distinct Furniture accordingly,
To shew his Lordships honors liuery:
Next this I see two Irish Lackyes stand,
With eyther one a horse rod in his hand,
Wherewith they oft times make the Beggars feele
The lash, for following their Lords Coach wheele.
Close be their Breeches made vnto their thighes,
Guarded like two Pie-collor'd Butterflies;
So as to see these Iack-a-lents come after,
Would make a man halfe dead, burst out with laughter.
There straight I see a Prisoner through a grate,
Desire their Lord to be compassionate;
While Court like, he, stops his relentlesse eare,
And eyther cannot heare, or scorns to heare.
Thus in all State goes this Magnifico,
With 4 Coach-horse, one Coach-man Pages two,
Which seuen without him make the Number euen
With Romes 7 Mounts, for they make likewise seuen.
Then must his Trayne be great, it cannot chuse,
Being in attendance growne so mountainous:
But let him passe, this Errour is but small,
To other-some, that I must cope withall.
Next thing I see, is one that's like a man,
Yet so disguis'd, discerne him not I can,
Nor well distinguish him, by outward shape
From some strange Monkey-fac't Arabian Ape.
Faces he makes of such a seuerall sort,
I cannot show them, to be hanged for't:
But sure I am (for ought I vnderstand)
He found not such strange faces in our Land,
For ciuill Albyon is, and cannot brooke
To looke, but as her Maker bids her looke.
Yet this same strange proportion'd Caualliere,
Or new Italianated Courtier,
Drawes Admiration to him in each place,
And by disguises gets especiall grace.
For while he has the garbe of forraine Courts,
And all the morne he spends in distinct sorts
Of French, Italian, Germaine Complement,
Zwelan, Venetian, Dutch accoutrement:
Where he will speake of th'state of euery Court,
Yet knowes not but onely by report.
Yet would it doe ones heart good to heare,
His strange discourse, though he was neuer there.
Vp must his fashions goe, which though they seeme
Th'ill fauouredst ones, that euer yet were seene.
They are in most request, and he's an Asse,
That hates th'fashion, or will let it passe.
And now, because there commeth to my minde
An auncient Storie, which I chanc't to finde,
'Mongst other workes of serious consequence,
I meane to write it, as I tooke't from thence.
The Scythians a people stout and bold,
Though much annoy'd by violence of cold;
Were euer held (as by their Acts is showne)
The truest heyres of honour and renowne:
Yet in their height of Triumph and Estate,
They fell becomming too effeminate.
For when the prosperous gailes of Victorie,
Had made them proud of their prosperitie,
And good successe had so blowne vp their minde,
As Fortune-like, their Fortune made them blind.
They straight begun to cast away their Armes,
As if they were secure of after-harmes;
And like new-fangle Humorists, desire
To mould themselues into some quaint attire.
Which to performe, they presently intend
Some odd conceited fellow for to send,
To forraine Coasts, that he thereby might come
To gaine some fashions, and so bring them home.
Straight one addressed was who forthwith went
And compast round the Northerne Continent,
Where though he saw strange fashions, yet was he
Not so contented but would farther see.
At last, inclining South-ward, there he stayde
Within an Iland: and so long survayde
The Customes, Natures, and the strange attire
Of th'people there, as he did much admire
(So sottish was this Scythian Traueller)
The phrenticke habit of the Ilander.
Who wore no garment, but from foote to head
With plumes of Birds vs'de to be fethered,
So as he seem'd (sayth Storie) in a word,
In forme a man, but clothed like a Bird.
This when the curious Scythian had seene,
To trauell any further did not meane;
But with glad heart determin'd to returne,
And shew his Country th'fashions that were worne.
Yet thought, ere he his iourney would begin,
To take some of those fethers 'long with him.
And there-withall to take aduice, had care,
Of one of th'best experienst Taylors there,
How to dispose the fethers, as they lay,
Which hauing learn'd, he posted on his way,
After long Trauayle he at last arriu'd
In his owne Country, which no lesse reuiu'd
His long-expecting Country-men, then when
There comes repriuall to condemned men.
And as we see Birds flocke against ill wether,
So all in troupes they crowded in together.
Vowing withall, what Country, or what Nation
So ere it were, they would obserue the fashion.
Forth comes his fethers pluckt from Peacocks, Owles,
Wood-cockes, and Phesants, and all fethred Fowles,
Directing them how ordered they should be,
(And that of all the Countries he did see)
Though many in strange fashions did excell,
Yet none like this did please him halfe so well.
No sooner had the barbarous Multitude,
Seene these strange nifles, but they forthwith sew'd,
That this might be authoriz'd, through the Court,
That who so ere (being of the better sort)
For none saue such admitted were to weare
This Bird-like weede, should from that time appeare
In publique place, vntill they had put on
This new-found Roabe, which was agree'd vpon.
Then might you see the Garments which of old
Were Furrs of Beasts to keepe them from the cold;
Cleare throwne away, and none of ranke there were
But did discard their auncient Country-weare.
But long they had not vs'd this forraine fashion,
But each was troubled with a sundry passion:
One with a Sowing-humour in his head,
Another was as much distempered
With collicke: he, with shortnesse of his breath,
This man through cold had nerely catcht his death,
For why; this weare fitt'd not the Scythians,
But those tan-skinned Æthiopians,
Whose sulphurous heate might better farre allow
Of such light weeds, then their sharpe aire could doe.
One of the wisest of this Barbarous crew,
Now seeing, what was likely to ensue,
Command'd forthwith (experience maks men witty)
Certaine chiefe men to fire a part o'th'Cittie:
Which done, an Vprore presently arose
Through all the streets, and to the Court-gate goes:
The chill cold Courtiers knew not what it meant,
Yet all amazed thought for to preuent
This dangerous fire, in hast therefore they came
Forth of the Court, to quench this threatning flame:
All fethred as they were: but (see mad Soules)
The flame catcht hold on these tame-fethred Fowles,
And th'more they sought by labour to appease it,
The more they did by their soft Plumes encrease it:
Long had they not about these Fire-workes beene,
But there was not a fether to be seene;
Which cing'd and gone, the fire encreas'd no more,
But was supprest, that grew so great before.
After which time no fashions they'd retaine,
But thought it meete to take their owne againe.
I might be taxed for a knavish wit,
If I in briefe should seeme to morall it.
And therefore haue Resolu'd to let it passe,
And be reputed for some Braine-sicke Asse,
That spent his oyle and labour for delight,
Then to be forc't to answer what I write.
For other slight abuses in the Court,
Doubting I might be brought in question for't.
If I should taxe the greatest; I'me prepar'd,
Here to deblaze them briefely afterward.

Of Hospitalitie.

Non eadem est ætas.

Thou thing out of Request, for vnto thee,
That was an honour to our Auncestrie,
The poore mans Supportresse, Trauellers Repose,
To thee will I my sorrows now disclose;
For well I know (if any good there be)
Their very hearts doe bleed with griefe for thee.
Where be those many Officers thou had,
'Las they'r discarded and may run starke mad,
But nere be pittied, a flout or mocke
Is their Salute, their stoue a whipping stocke;
Their wages lashes, their repast bare Platters,
Their wine, pure Conduit-Renish, garments, tatters.
O thou that once (by Times eternall Storie)
Was clept our Ilands port, our Englands glorie:
Thou that by thy strong family kept out,
Iack Straw, Wat Tyler, and that rabble rout
Of factious Noualists who sought t'infest,
By their distempred heads, our Countries rest;
Thou that supprest such tumults by thy hand,
As menaced the quiet of our Land;
How art thou vanisht, or where art become,
That thou doest keepe so seldome times at home?
Way-faring men, when they but chanc't to looke,
Were glad at heart, to see thy Chymneys smooke.
When now as I and many more suppose,
Thy Chymney-smoke is turned to thy Nose.
Yea, such as vs'd by thee to take repast,
May sooner breake their neck then breake their fast.
But whence proceedes this threatning miserie?
From thee (thou curse of Albyon) Vsurie;
Soule-rankling Poyson, State-deuouring sinne.
That makes dice on mens bones, and fleas their skin.
Thou lay'st vnhallowed fist on each estate,
And makes the poore come cursing to thy gate;
Thou ruines walled townes, and thee't doth please
To turne great houses into cottages.
There's none (for thee) can reape content in life
Not from the Prince vnto the Oyster wife.
It's thou layes hold vpon each familie,
Seazing on persons of all qualities.
For where's the May game, and the Morice dance,
The auncient Blew-coate, and his cognisance;
Where's those Black-iacks which vsed were at first
For the way-faring man to quench his thirst?
Vanisht, they'r vanisht: where? to the Court,
Beleeue me (poore-men) I am sorrie for't.
For pittie is it, that a place so great,
Should (of Reliefe) our needie people cheate.
Thus Hospitalitie is banisht cleere,
Betwixt the Court, and th'damned Vsurer;
It's rare to see a man of Worship ride,
With more then one poore Lackie at his side;
Or if he haue a man or two at most,
He couenants for feare of too much cost,
That each of them (so niggardly's the Elfe)
Should be at charges to maintaine himselfe.
And sure me thinkes, these Great-men that retyre,
As I may say, vnto an other's fire;
Shutting vp house, and all, that who should looke
That way, should scarcely see a Chymney smooke:
Might become rich: for why, they nought bestow,
Their meanes be great, the rate they liue at, low;
Small's their attendance, slender is their port,
And shut their Buttery-hatch to barre resort.
But why should I thinke so? as they from th'poore
Hold backe their hand, the Lord holds back his store.
That Widdow of Sarepta (as we reade)
Had still her Arke with meale replenished;
And th'more she gaue, she still receiu'd the more,
For God encreas'd her much-decreased store.
But Naball that rich Churle, who denide
To giue to Dauid, seeming to deride
This zealous King, with who is Dauid say,
That I should giue my coine and meate away?
What end had he? He was depriu'd of all,
His state, his store, his life, his Abigall.
And he, whom Naball did deride before,
Became the sole possessour of his store.
“For he that liuing will not th'poore reward,
“Shall be enforc't to giue it afterward.
But vnto thee my Muse addresseth first,
(And heauen forbid I blesse what God hath curst)
Who doest consume the Sun-shine of thy dayes
In damn'd Oppression, and all workes delayes
Of Charitie, and Almes-workes till death
And desolation choake thy corrupt breath.
Thou Earth-mould thou, who as it seemes to me,
Hadst thy beginning from that Familie
Of th'Braucadori, which in Florence are,
Extorting Bankers, and so Named were,
(Because the Word if rightly vnderstood)
Signifies scrape Gold (or in briefe) scrape-Good.
It's thou my Muse shall freely reprehend,
Beginning fresh, when seeming at an end;
And heauen I wish, that it were put to me,
What punishment should be infflict on thee.
For then (be sure) of what degree or sort,
So ere thou wer't, that I would plague thee for't.
Yea in an auncient Cannon reade we shall,
This ranke denied Christian Buriall.
So as their Bones were neuer to be found,
Interr'd in any part of holy Ground.
And true it is (for th'Reason is allow'd)
That the confused rout and multitude
Of Lawyers and Physitians, which are bred,
(Like Horse flies) from a State distempered,
Are signes of ill-disposed Bodies, sure,
And long's that State not likely to endure.
Yea, of these two, I know not whether's worse,
To purge the bodie, or to purge the purse:
Both strange distempers breed: whence it is meant
A Clyent is his Lawyers Patient.
But th'Number of our grating Vsurers,
Their Factors, and those eare markt Scriuiners;
While they within our Country are remaining
Show a disease that's fatall 'mongst vs raigning.
But hast I must, and passe from Vsurie,
The greatest foe to Hospitalitie:
And speake a word or two vnto the Court,
Showing those wrongs she doth the poorer sort.
Thou Princely Seate, whose bountie like a streame
Should water each drie corner of our Realme;
Harbour not such, as should themselues expresse
By giuing harbour to the harborlesse.
Let them not there haue any residence,
But banish them (thou starre of honour) thence:
That in their Country they may once appeare.,
Such good House-keepers as their Fathers were.
This done, thou shalt bring glorie to thy Court,
And needfull Soules relieu'd shall blesse thee for't.

A SHORT EMBLEME DESCANTING ON THE Worlds pleasure, entituled by the AVTHOR PLACENTIA.

Now my voluptuous Wanton that doest spend,
Thy Pilgrime dayes vnto a fruitlesse end;
Thou that consumes thy oyle and wasts thy labour,
In winning of a fickle Mistresse fauour:
Spending whole yeares in faces, and in fashions,
Like Æsops Crow, drawne from as many Nations,
As there be threeds in the Webb when it is spun,
Grasse-pils on Earth, or Atoms in the Sunne:
It's thou, I must encounter, and though I
In due respect I beare to modestie,
Will in any ruder Poems spare to name thee,
(For then I should goe very neere to shame thee)
Yet so I must vnripp thy vanities,
That thou may'st know I doe not write to please;
Humour, or sooth, no if thou wer't a Prince,
I would make bold thy errours to conuince;
And tell thee too when I had made them knowne,
Thy vices were not worthie of a Crowne.
I haue no Rhetoricke but bluntnesse I,
Nor knew I euer how to face a lye;
As many can, yea, and some great ones too,
As our Court-Apple-Squires, and fauns can doe:
I doe cashiere all priuate Parasites,
Ladie-fied Monkyes, lustful Catomytes,
Painting, and purfling, sleeking of the skin,
Poudring of hayre, to let temptation in;
Light-fether-dressings, Fardinggalls avant,
That makes a wench backt like an Elephant;
Open displayed brests, Sin-tempting eyes,
Crocodyles teares, and faithlesse periuries:
Vermillion cheeks, bought beauties, I do shun you,
For I am madd when I doe looke vpon you:
But first to thee will I addresse my way,
Who in a Loue-sicke passion thus doest say;
“Loue brookes no sharers, I'le not suffer Ioue
“To be a Riuall in the Wench I loue.
You will not Sir; why, what a Wood-cocke art,
To thinke thy-selfe a man of such desert:
That any Wench will so her loue confine,
To make her-selfe in Essence none but thine?
Herein thou show'st thy owne simplicitie,
To thinke a Woman will imprisoned be;
Since it is true which hath beene oft times sed,
Nor loue, nor lust can ere be limitted.

An instance produced by way of personall allusion.

Why, I will tell thee man I had a Wench,
Some thirteene dayes agoe no longer since,
And she did vow (as well I know she can)
Of all she lou'd I was the onely man:
If I but frown'd, so straitely I did keepe
My Wench in aw, she would begin to weepe;
If I but laugh'd, it cler'd her raynie day,
She would laugh too, and wipe her teares away;
In briefe what ere I did (so kind was she)
One note kept Measure 'twixt my loue and me:
Yet to ther day (I pray thee louer heare me)
She that was mine by vow, doth now cashere me,
Calling me foole that had so little sence,
To thinke that she with faith could not dispence;
Adding withall, that there was nought more cōmon
Then breach of faith, and promise with a woman.
Yet know (quoth she) tho th'greatest Prince assault,
“If woman yeeld it is the womans fault.
Thus by experience (Louer) I was crost,
Thus did I loue, thus was my labour lost.
If thine be constant, thou hast that reward,
Which I few louers euer yet haue heard;
But if she be, of thus much sure I am,
She is a Milke-white Crow, a cole-blacke Swan.
Next vnto thee, whose gaudie vanitie,
Makes thee forgetfull of mortalitie;
Thy glorie is not placed in thy minde,
For who the least of beautie there can finde,
Sith Vertue has no place, which euer giues
Life to the soule, by which it euer liues;
But odious vice, which blemisheth the eye
Of vnderstanding with obscuritie;
Thy glorie is in Clothing, yet behold
What that diuinest Salomon hath told;
Nought is more vaine then this? at least thou'l yeeld
In Beautie to the Lillies of the field,
Which neither spin, nor labour, yet they be
“Fairer then Salomon in his royaltie.
Yea, this Obseruance tells me, which by some
Hath beene reputed for an Axiome.
“The greatest Princes that are clad in Ermine,
“Take them at best, they are but food for vermine.
“And why should shapeles forms be so much loth'd,
“Since Bodies they are but, as they are cloth'd?
This comes not nere the Beautie of the soule,
Since th'fairest Bodies are oft times most fowle
In th'constitution of the inward man,
Which is the best of beautie, sure I am.
Vertue adorns her best, nor can she finde
Any Complexion purer then the minde:
Here, not improperly may I make vse,
Of th'Nuptiall song of wittie Claudius,
Which was composed for the marriage-bed
Of good Honorius to Maria wed.
“Tender Honorius, in the purple roome
“Borne, to his Fathers glorie now shall come,
“And giue that hope to such as see him raigne,
“As if that Saturne were return'd againe;
“For little can Porphyras Pallace doe,
“If that with Birth we haue not vertues too.
“He shall conclude my taske, no more I'le say,
“Pleas'd or displeas'd, this's my Placentia.

A CONCLVSIVE EPIGRAM, ENTITVLED The Great-mans Alphabet.

Come hither Great-man that triumphs to see,
So many men of lower ranke to thee;
That swells with honours, and erects thy state,
As high as if thou wer't Earths Potentate.
Thou whose aspiring buildings raise thy Name,
As if thou wer't Sole sonne and heyre of fame;
Thou whose ambition doth on dainties feast,
Ayming to be some pettie King at least;
Thou whom oppression hath by wrong made great,
Priding thy selfe of thy vsurped seate;
Thou that doest thinke it signe of Noble bloud,
Rather to ayme at great then to be good;
Thou whose demerits, though thou beare a port,
And canst looke big, are but of th'meanest sort.
Thou whose patcht honour, take away thy land
Will for an Ordinarie scarce currant stand;
Thou whose best qualities deriued be,
Onely from thy command, and not from thee:
Heare me (thou Worlds Atlas) and discerne
What's best of honour, Greatest men may learne.
I haue sought farre, and yet I cannot finde,
To what set place their glorie stands confin'de:
Who once were famous, and had tongues enow,
To ring their Noble acts the World throw.
Me thinkes that Agamemnon whose renowme,
Euen to the eares of sacred Powers did come,
To make his fame more lasting, should not be
So soone obscur'd in his posteritie;
Nor that same Mirrour of the Myrmidons,
Nor braue Thalestris of the Amazons;
Nor Cretan Minos, Ilus, Atreus,
The Persian Cyrus, Trojane Dardanus.
Yet see, where be these Heroes? Now they seeme
Through tymes disgrace as if they had not beene:
So short's our memorie, that if we haue
Nought to preserue our honour in the graue,
Saue th'tongs of men to blaze what we haue done,
Scarce will our Names be heard in time to come.
Yet you will say those Monuments we leaue,
Will to our dying Fame true honour giue:
As Marble shrines, statues of Iuory,
Porphyrite Columns grauen curiously,
Arches of lasting mettals, these will show
What we were once: and though men would not know
Our actious, yet our monuments infuse
Knowledge in them, they cannot will nor chuse.
Alas how weake's his fame, that do's repose
His confidence in any one of those:
Soone fading is his Name, and short's his time
That's shut within circumference of a shrine:
Yea, frayle's his glorie fitting with his nature,
Who hopes to reare his fame by such a matter.
For where should we find Tombs now ouergrowne
With grasse and rubbish, yea, where fields are sowne,
Vineyards are planted, as it may appeare,
It is not knowne where they interred were?
Some say the Caue of Minos, King of Crete,
Who afterward had his Iudiciall seate
In Hell, as Soueraigne vmpire, founded was
On Idas Mount, where though by store of grasse
And mouldred ashes, which are haled forth,
By the combustiue matter of the earth:
His ag'd memoriall was extinguisht clene,
Yet some appearance there is to be seene,
Which doth expresse that Minos Sepulcher,
Vnited was with th'Tombe of Iupiter:
And that faire Ida, which so fruitfull grew
With euery pleasant Plant (as Poets shew)
Would decke his flowry Monument with Thyme,
With Bayes his Tombe, with Iuniper his shrine;
So as no Virgin Votaresse there was,
Who had that way occasion for to passe,
But would (for so the Cretans did allow it)
“Tender her best of adoration to it.
Of such Relations we haue Subiects store,
As Aiax Tombe vpon the Rhetian shore,
In Oeta great Alcydes, Mytilene
A place where many worthies layd haue beene,
As Pythacus an auncient Sage of Grece,
Alcæus, valiant Antemenydes,
Theophanes the sound Peripatician,
Sapho, Arion the diuine Musician,
There were they borne (as of one Natiue wombe)
Which after gaue to most of them a Tombe.
Seuen Iles there be, Historians doe auerr,
All which contend for Homers Sepulcher:
'Mongst which renowned Gasbos in the Ile
Of chearefull Syo shows best proofe the while:
Yet 'las where's all this pompe, or whereto tend
These gorgeous monuments after our end;
They are not made for vs, for what haue we,
Vse (being sencelesse) of such vanitie?
So as it's true which the graue Morall sed,
Graues rather are for th'liuing then the dead:
They are indeed; For why, our Iudgement's gone,
Our Lamps are out, we're left to looke vpon,
For others (as frayle Mirrours) which expresse,
“Man after death is nought but rottonnesse;
Wormelins his brethren and his sisters are,
Seuen foote of Earth his portion and his share,
For all his sumptuous rayments, is allowd,
Nought after death to man but a poore shrowd.
Alas poore man, shall all thy pompe returne,
To such a scantling? Euen an earthie vrne!
Shall all those wish'd delights reduced be
To such a Mirrour of Mortalitie;
“As being gone, thou shalt be seene no more,
“Nor shall't auaile thee whether rich or poore?
Shall all that great obseruance which thou had,
Be now in clay, and in Corruption clad?
Shall those triumphant Monuments of fame,
Returne to that same earth from whence they came?
Shall thy Fame fade, thy actions be forgotten,
Thy worth weare out, thy pampred corps lie rotten?
Shall that same curious Fabricke, that faire forme,
Be now a prey for euery Earth-bred Worme?
Shall that same comely Mansion, turne to mire,
Which once was cloathed with the silkes of Tyre.
Perfum'd with sweetest odors, Musk, and Ciuet,
(And 'las how soone that sweetnes then must leaue it)
When to that house, that graue, that tombe, that vrne,
Thou (as thou hadst beginning) must returne?
Where's then thy Princely consorts? all are gone,
And thou saue Shrowd, Wormes, Coffin hast not one
For to discourse with: not a Reueller
Which here profest thee kindnesse will be there
To beare thee companie: thou'rt quite forgot,
As if thy Noble consorts knew thee not.
Besides (as thou wast gracious in the Court)
The lower ranke of men will make report,
How thou didst beare thy selfe, if proud, the breath
Of Spite will rayle vpon thee to thy teeth;
Calling thee Arrogant: if couetous
They will not spare to publish thy abuse:
If time-obseruer, as thou here didst err
In humoring, they'l call thee Flatterer:
If an Oppressor, they'l obserue thy end,
And say't was ill, thou wast no poore-mans friend.
If an Adulterate Factor, then they'l call
Thy end like such, as die in th'Hospitall;
And though thou be so great, as thou can'st finde
None (whilest thou liues) dare vtter forth their mind,
Yet being dead, there be as many more
Will brute thy shame, as humor'd thee before.
Yea though a Statist subtile as a Fox,
They will display thy errours with a pox;
If a vaine-humorous Lording, whose creation
Came vp the to-ther day along with fashion,
Whose onely gracefull neate accoutrement
Stands on a little broken complement;
Then some will say, while ore thy graue they passe,
“Here lies a Widgin-lord, a foot-cloth Asse.
If an imperious Beggar that canst sute
For such ones land, and put th'true owner out;
Thou shalt be taxt and censur'd in thy graue,
And term'd withall a base collouging slaue.
If a spruce Pension-Gallant, that hast nought,
(Saue a phantasticke cringe) that's worthie ought,
Receiue this Brand (nor care they if thou scowle)
Or a vaine-glorious, idle, formall foole.
If an ambicious Greene wit, thou doe clime,
Hoping to scale the seate of Ioue in time:
If thou repine that any one should checke
Thy soaring flight, till pride shall breake thy necke,
Rest well assur'd, they will be bold to tell
That Pride did Lackey thee post-hast to hell.
Thus then thou seest, how great so-ere thou be,
(If ill) thou subiect art to infamie;
Nor can the Greatnesse of thy worth or place,
Exempt thee from the censure of disgrace,
For those who whilest thou liu'd durst hardly mew,
(Now being dead) will giue thy crimes their due.
O then let Vertue be thy monument,
For it will keepe thee, when thy life is spent,
In a perpetuall Memorie! for 'las
What's Marble, Iron, Iuory, or Brasse
To make thee glorious in the eyes of men,
Since of all those, there's scantly one 'mongst ten,
Who plac't their Names in shrines, but were forgot
Before the sheete they lay in was halfe rott.
Yea such as these, who like the sonnes of Earth,
Triumphed liuing, in their noble Birth,
Boasting of their discent, yet could make knowne,
Not any one good action of their owne
To glory in, might well resembled be,
In each respect and natiue propertie,
Vnto a Lampe, which when the oyle is spent,
Sends from her steeming snuffe, a noisome sent;
“Liuing they shone-like Lamps, at least they seem'd,
(But all things are not so as they are deem'd)
But dying they doe show what filthie stuffe
They were made of, by sending forth their snuffe.
But when true Vertue is commixt with bloud,
Then Noblenesse must needes be rightly good:
For bloud and vertue being ioyn'd together,
Makes what agrees with one, accord with eyther.
There is no Balme so precious vpon Earth,
As Vertue is; for it preserues our worth
From times mutation; no corruption can
Enter the Coffin of a Vertuous man;
For though the Syth of Fate haue cut him downe,
Yet in his death he is farre better knowne
Then in his life, because when men doe misse him,
Seeing his workes they 'gin afresh to blisse him.
O may thy Great-nesse (then,) who ere thou art,
Be grounded first vpon a sincere heart,
For that will last, when that same guilded honour
Will fayle her selfe, and all that trust vpon her.
Short is our time, our sorrowes they are long,
Fickle our State, our Soule-assailants strong;
Weake's our defence, rude is our Discipline,
Rustie our Armes, our Courage feminine:
What Recluse then? Whereto may we repaire,
To be secure from imminent despaire?
It's not our Greatnesse, nor descent of bloud,
How high so ere can doe vs any good:
No; It's our goodnesse, not our greatnesse shall
In that same day giue priuiledge to all,
Which heauens I wish, that it might once be set
On Great-mens brests, and made their Alphabet.

TO THE HIGH AND ILLVSTRIOVS MONARCH, CHRISTIAN KING of Denmarke a Panegyricke

OR Gratulatorie Embleme, with the Successiue continuance of his Maiestie.

Embleme

Great Christian king soueraigne of many hearts,
Royall supporting-Atlas of all arts;
Bellonas Chieftaine, & Minervaes friend,
True worths aduancer: please thee to attend,
To one of Albyons Swainelins, who would be
Blest in himselfe, writing ought worthie thee.
Long may our Whitecliffs, which gaue Albyon name,
Prepare themselues such friends to entertaine;
Long may our far-fam'd Court her luster show,
Made glorious by such royall Friends as thou.
Long may our Halcyon daies crowne Albyons King,
While prosperous gailes such Friends a-shore doe bring.
Long may our Cōmerce free to both remain,
The Dane with English, English with the Dane.
Happie vnited powers confirm'd by loue,
And nere-Alliance, as those quires aboue.
May you keepe blessed concord, and renew
Your yeares by Times successe: O may that dew
Destill'd on Hermon, fructifie your Land,
Shielded and shored by the soueraigne hand
Of the Almightie: that no forraigne Foe,
Nor homebred Innouatour, may vndoe
That sacred Vnion, so bequeath'd to eyther,
As hand in hand, you may march on together.
And thou Triumphant Queene, that dissipates
The spacioust Prouinces, and raisest states
By vnexpected meanes, (Great Victorie)
Smile (O attend my Prayer) auspiciously,
On two religious Kingdomes! May thy wings
Shadow th'atchieuments of two royall Kings:
That their propitious Fates enstil'd may be,
As Faiths-Defendors, so true heires to thee!
O may those auncient monuments of Time,
Stucke on their predecessors Hearses, shine
More now then euer, that 'ith age to come
The Father may relate vnto his Sonne
What conquests and what glory hath beene got,
And such renowne as they expected not!
Shine out faire Lampe of honour, and giue way,
It's not the morne, but euening Crownes the day;
May peacefull morning, and victorious Euen,
Blesse them on earth, eternize them in Heauen.
Nor can I doubt in such apparant sweetes
Of reall Goodnesse, where perfection meetes,
And makes a well-tun'd Concord, but the earth
Will glorie much to haue so great a birth
Planted within her Bosome: For the blisse
Of earths inhabitants, consists in this,
When Princes gouerne with religious eye,
And Iustice lodgeth in a Monarchie.
There's no complaint, but with harmonious sound,
(Like heauenly dwellers) they make blest the ground
Where they inhabit: there vnited peace
Makes their Barnes ful, giues to their flockes encrease.
There sacred Temples are erect'd on high,
And praises sung to heauens pure Maiestie:
There's no repining at an-others weale,
All like Sareptahs Widdow haue their meale
Renew'd, and re-encreas'd, which still we see,
Succeedes to such giues Hospitalitie.
For vertues haue their Guerdon, and appeare
Bright in heauens eye, to such as soiourne here.
O happie then where Maiestie doth shine,
If vertues keepe a Tune, or keepe a time:
There's a terrestriall Hierarchie, which doth show
Faire in such men, as doe such vertues owe!
In thee (Rich Mirrour) I haue heard and sen,
What merits admiration in meane men,
Much more in Princes, nor can I expresse
Imagination freely: yet I guesse
By what I haue seene, and obseru'd in thee,
“Vertue's enthroned in thy Maiestie.
How much more priz'd is honour, when her Name
And Nature both concurreth with the same?
Then honour is no shrowd, but has her birth,
From her owne selfe, producing her owne worth
From her owne proper merits: like is showne
In thy Great-selfe, that sits not in a Throne
As though thou had'st nought els to Grace thee with,
For I see Iustice planted vnderneath
Thy royall Throne, implying, that seate's weake
Where Iustice has her residence to seeke.
Renowned Prince, whose Eminence of State,
Hath beene by others much maligned at,
Wise Columne, for true wisedome is the stay
That reares deiected states: how much haue they
Beene frustrate of their hopes? where thy great spirit
(For neuer any Prince did more inherit
Of natiue Resolution) was addrest
To actions of most hazard, and exprest
Thy Countries glory, when encircled round,
Thou made the ayre thy Triton to resound
Honors atchieuements? so as none before,
That ere I heard, spake lesse, and yet did more.
How valour represented in the height,
Of towring Maiestie beames out her light
In mid'st of darkenesse? Like a Diamond
Set in some duskie shrine, which cheares the round
Where it's enshrin'd, with a reflecting ray,
Making the cloudiest night as cleare as day.
O Fortitude, by Heroes made diuine,
A vertue Royall, louely masculine.
Thou wilt not prey vpon a prostrate Foe,
Nor triumph ore the weake, nor canst thou so
Degenerate from worth, as where thou art,
To make thy speech a Recreant to thy heart.
Fame is thy Herald, and in glorious measures
Compos'd to honor thee, swoopes vp full treasures
Into thy lapp: rearing such Trophies too,
As Craven-spirits nere had Fate to show.
Here stand Alcydes Columnes, to expresse
His more then man vnto posterities,
To be recorded: Here stands memorie,
(Vallours best Register) addrest to see
And heare what merits honour (which once heard)
She'l not depriue her of her iust reward
How great's the diff'rence 'twixt such men as these
And Carpet Knights, who onely liue at ease;
Prest for a Ladies combat? this we see
Instanc'd in Ninus and's posteritie,
The Father royall first, enlarg'd his State,
Extend'd his Frontiers, was admired at;
Builded that glorious Cittie Niniveh,
Laying foundation for his memorie.
His sonne in Forme a man, in action no man,
A purple-spinner, and Copes-mate for woman.
But to thy selfe (Great Prince) for vnto thee
Directs my Muse her flight: long may thou be
Redowbted (as thou art): so where thou goes
Thy Name may be a Terror to thy foes;
Thy vertues, Adamantine linckes, to draw
And drawne, to keepe thy people in an awe,
Not seruile, but affectionate; that Time
May adde more Trophies to that worth of thine,
Then yet thou art possest of: and it is
The best (Inferiors can doe) to wish
Successiue dayes, continuance of Friends,
Renowned liues, and Time-eternis'd ends:
To those we are oblig'd to: and to thee
Much are we tyed, accepting Poesie,
With such a gracefull aspect, as thy breath,
Infuseth life in vs, when meager death
Seem'd to surprise vs: should we then forget
The best revivour of our vncheer'd wit,
The Mirrour of affected Clemencie?
O no, for then vngratefull we should be,
And make our workes contemptuous to such men
As haue vouchsaf'd some time to harbour them:
Indeed, if labours could a promise giue,
To such as patronize them, ere to liue
With fames light-sayles displayed, I know we might
Haue far more Patrons, then haue workes to write:
But what can Hyble promise that is there,
Worthie th'attention of a Princes eare;
Some scattred spraies perchance, which cropt might be.
From Adons Garden, or Apolloes tree.
Some sweetened dropps drawne from that sacred spring
Where all the warbling Nine were wont to sing.
For neuer Garden yet was halfe so sweete,
As where Apollo, and the Muses meete.
Yet what are these? And what are we that write,
Since Kings be choice & must haue choice delight,
To cheare their pure affections? It is true;
Albyons Pernassus has but little new,
Or store of pure varieties: yet there be
Some that haue sung in th'Eare of Maiestie;
And with acceptance (though with homely straine)
Which is the cause that now they sing againe.
Nor doth the tune, but tenure of the minde
Make the best Concord: Which if Princes finde,
They cherish it, to make the Consort more,
(For so the royall'st Princes did before)
And to continue what the Auncients did,
Our Moderne ages haue authorized
What they confirm'd: nor can we glorie lesse,
Sith we haue such that can as well expresse,
Their Countries Fame, the honour of their King,
As well in loftie straines, as Sonnetting,
As euer former Bards, and with lesse toyle,
For our's more free, their's was a forced soyle.
And what esteeme haue Authors of this kind
Beene amongst Potentst Monarchs, we shall finde
In tymes best Mirrour, auncient Historie,
Where they reserue dew wreaths for Poesie.
The worlds great Viceroy slept not as we reade,
Without the workes of Homer vnder's head;
Augustus lou'd his Maro, Martiall
Had a Domitian, and tart Iuuenall
No worse Protectour, aged Sophocles,
Sweet-breathing Hesiod, graue Euripides
Passion-affecting Æschylus, all these
Had places to retire to, and could please
With smooth, quicke, pithie, various passionate,
Choice, natiue, modest, and elaborate,
Passions, affections, measures, and delights
For men, maids, Matrons, loue-admiring Knights,
Campe-royall planters, where no act did passe,
Which they engraued out in leaues of Brasse.
Their monumentall Tablets: these were they
That could distinguish 'twixt the chearefull day
Of Resolution, where's true vertues light,
And recreant spirits clouded with the Night.
Of a depressed minde: nought could be done
Vnder heauens glorious Cresset, but was showne
By an impartiall pen, and did remaine
For after Ages to looke ore againe
And were not these workes for a Princely eare
To descant on: when vertue did appeare
In naked feature, and exprest her Name
To be in Nature and in essence same
What she was moulded for? And she it is
That neuer had another Mott but this.
If spotlesse Reputation be away,
Men are but guilded lime, or painted clay.
And what Apelles euer could portray,
Any pure substance, or so well display
The perfect forme of being, as this Art,
Or diuine Influence, can describe each part
Of honours faire proportion; this is she
That giues a liuing soule to Maiestie,
Records the acts of Princes, and sets downe,
What's worth record frō th'plow-share to the Crowne.
Renewing life in death, for by her breath,
Selfe-same may liue, that is surpriz'd by death:
Making his actions breathing: nor can tyme
Impose a period to an Art diuine;
For it's transparant in obscuritie,
Cleare in the silent shade, and loues to be,
As vertue is in Action: this being true,
What can we doe, but giue this Art her due,
More to her Grace, but as she's Princely bred,
So by a Prince to haue her sheltered.
It will erect her spirits, cheare her wings,
And make her perch euen on the crest of Kings:
Admiring her owne Beautie: and who can
Amongst a world of Princes, finde a man
Who might her Patronage better beseeme,
Then thou great Prince, brother to Albyons

This Pænegyrick Poem was writ during the life of our late Queene, whose Princely vertues (like precious odours) will euer preserue her sacred Memory.

Queene,
Whose ripened iudgement aimes at some great end,
In reading nought, but it does apprehend.
And what more precious ornament can be
Worne by a Prince, then such a Theorie?
But 'las how weake's my Muse to set thee forth,
That beares within thy selfe the markes of worth,
As Honors natiue Characters? And best
Is Honour showne, when grauen on the brest
Of the possessour? Like adorns thy heart,
For speaking thee, who knows not what thou art?
O may it be (I pray) the supreame will
Of heauen, to adde more glory to thee still,
That each succeeding day may giue encrease
To a succeeding honour: may sweete peace
Smile on thy fruitfull Empire, and extend,
Her large Commission to the worlds end.
So shall Minerua flourish, and make great
The faire foundation of thy Royall seate.
Meane time (Victorious Prince) gaine the renowme,
And in thy Christian Title, ouer-come.

AN EMBLEME VPON THE ROYALL MASQVE PRESENTED in the King of Denmarkes last being here. Personated regally, shadowed really, and alluded rarely.

Thrice glorious Spirits, royall in your state,
Albyons-faire lusters highly consecrate.
To him whom you on Earth doe represent,
May you be euer in this Element
Of perfect Ioy: that the full height of time
May (as you were presented Masculine)
Cheare vp your man like thoughts, that your great birth
(Being enstil'd no lesse then Gods on earth)
May when your Time's expir'd (and long may't be
Ere that time come) put on eternitie.
Your Masque presents a life (silent you came,
So Maskers doe) and we expresse the same
In our Birth-entrie, nothing can we speake
Articulate; onely sends out a shreque,
To shew our misery; the next you beare
'S a vizard, which implyes these robes we weare,
Of Flesh, and of Mortalitie; which when
Time shall dissolue, we are no longer men,
But Angels: Your disguise may shadow at,
That strange desire we haue to immitate
Forraine disguised habits, when it's knowne,
We haue more comely habits of our owne.
Those Feminine-Mirrors (Ladies) you brought in,
Shows Adams happinesse, and Adams sinne;
His happinesse, when God to make his state
Perfect-delightfull, gaue to him a mate,
Flesh of his owne flesh, and bone of his bone,
Thinking't not good that man should be alone.
His sinne, when's mate, wherein he seem'd to be
Happie, did haplesse taste th'forbidden tree.
Liuely was this exprest, when th'Ladies bore
From you those Gemms and Iewells which you wore.
Implying that pure Gemme of Innocence,
Adam was robd of by Eues negligence.
Taking from th'Ladies: thus much did impart,
“Men spous'd to women, rob them of their heart,
For it's no longer theirs, for theirs is gone,
One heart in two, or two reduc't to one.
This is my Embleme for the Masculine,
Now must our woman-Pen turne Feminine.
Delicious moulds of Nature, whose pure forme
Was form'd by Nature, chiefely to adorne
And beautifie her-selfe: which she did shew,
First in her-selfe, examplified by yow.
You mask'd, thus much implies, that modestie
Innate to Woman-hood, ought most to be
Where sexes are immixt: those Princely men,
Which you depriu'd and robbed of their Gemmes,
Includes your true humilitie: being forc't
To take from that Sex, Eue tooke of at first:
And that perfection which you haue began,
Not from your selues, but from the worth of Man.
These ornaments (are vertues Emblemes) where
Beautie by honour graced do'es appeare
More chearefull, and assumeth to it more
Of diuine Essence, then it had before.
You spoyl'd, portrayes your modest Princely shame,
Scorning to take and not to giue againe;
Here is a great minde showne: whose plac't delight,
Is nere to take, more then it will requite.
Those Virgin-lamps of yours, with oyle sustain'd,
Expresse those Virgins, that were entertain'd
Into the Bride-chamber: hence you are
Compar'd to those wise-virgins that had care
To haue their oyle prepared, and might come,
With Virgin-glory to the Nuptiall roome.
Your Oyle's the splendour of a vertuous life,
And she's a Virgin, that's a Virgin-wife;
Making her husband (linkt by sacred right
Vnto her selfe) sole mate of her delight.
The place where you present this Masque of yours,
May seeme an Embleme, to those heauenly powers
Which shine in Syons-Court: pure mirrors here,
And glorious Daughters of perfection there.
Your Masque expir'd, includes our frayle lifes-taske,
Whence was't that Prince compar'd it to a maske,
Wherein men were disguis'd, nor could one then
Discouer right the phisnomie of men,
Hauing their face obscur'd: and such be now
Those, who are nothing lesse then what they show,
Hauing appearance to the out-ward eye,
Of seeming that they are not inwardly.
But when our Masque of Flesh is stript off cleane,
Then is it clearely showne, what we haue beene.
Your dance (Times measure) may be thus exprest,
Lifes-action is a dance, which craueth rest;
Your selues th'Ideas of true Excellence,
Show what you shall be when you goe from hence.

TO THE IVDICIOVS And generall approued, Hvmfrey Davmport, Esquire: Practitioner in the Common Lawes;

Whose Subiect, is the goodnesse of the cause; and whose ayme is to redresse wrong:

The accomplishment of his vertuous desires, with the perusall of this Encomiastick Poem.

A PRAYER TO THE HIGH COVRT OF HEAVEN, FOR the high Court of Parliament now assembled:

that their Councells and Consultations may bee so directed, As Gods glory may be advanced, and vnitie in Church and Common-wealth established.

Lord what am I that I should speake to thee,
Or what art thou to bow thine eare to mee
That am but dust? Lord heare not as I am,
A sinne-conceived and polluted man,
But for thy Christ, who to redeeme his sheepe,
Did seeking finde, and till He found did seeke
His wandring Lambkins; heare what I doe pray,
“Who art the Pilgrimes staffe, the Shepherds stay.
Giue Lord. O giue to all that doe professe
Thy glorious name and Gospell, quietnesse,
Defeate the malice of thy Syons foes,
But specially (good God) th'attempts of those
Who wish with all their heart to prey vpon
This little Eden, flowrie Albyon;
It is thy hedged garden, water it,

Cant. 4. 12.

As to thy sacred wisedome shall seeme fit;

Psal. 80. 8.

It is thy fruitfull vine, may it increase

Isa. 5. 4.

Vnto thy glory (Lord) and Syons peace,

Ioh. 15. 1.

That ravenous Wolfe or subtill Fox nere may
Breake in by force and steale her Grapes away.
And for as much Confusion needes must breede
Where members doe subsist without a heade,
Blesse our Drad Soueraigne, Lord, blesse him, that He
Both in himselfe and his Posteritie,
May stere, support, and guide the sterne of State,
That Others eying vs, may wonder at
The blessed peace and freedome we obtaine
Vnder so wise and good a Soueraigne.
And may Hee ever haue one of his owne
(if't be thy pleasure) to sit on this Throne,
This peacefull Ile to solace and secure,
So long as Sunne or Moone shall ere endure.
Blesse the most prudent Councell of this Land,
Lord in their Consultations haue a hand;
May Thou and they in Iudgement still consent,
But specially th'High house of Parlament,
Which by thy will and prouidence divine,
To right the State, 's assembled at this time.
Lord be amongst them, that whats'ere they doome,
May be to th'Weale and Peace of Christendome.
May popular Opinion never draw them,
May loue to God and Good-men over aw them:
May all their Acts bee a continued Story,
To further and advance thy sacred glory:
May Prince be pleas'd, State eas'd, and men with men
Liue here in Loue, and rest in peace: Amen.

PANEDONE: OR HEALTH FROM HELICON:

CONTAINING Emblemes, Epigrams, Elegies, With other continuate Poems, full of all generous delight; BY Richard Brathvvayte Esquire.

TO MY TRVELY WORTHIE AND MVCH RESPECTED Friend, Sr THOMAS GAINSFORD Knight: his best wishes.

Once Sr, to lash the World I made't a sport,
And many thought I should be lashed for't,
So as some nere-ones did me much importune
To shrow'd my selfe and shield me from mis-fortune:
But I (resolu'd to iustifie my Writ)
Did not as others did, recant from it,
But still avouch'd vnto that vicious crew,
That I would stand to't, what I wrote was true.
Whence euery braine his rackt construction had,
While one suppos'd me to be surely madd;
Another deem'd me for some male-content,
Who had his meanes and Patrimony spent,
[illeg.] as being cross'd by th'Wheele of adverse Fate,
My want of meanes had made me desperate.
But see how these blind Baiards errd! for I
Neither through madnesse, spite, nor pouerty,
Divulg'd those rough-hew'd Satyres, but did take
That Taske in hand onely for vertues sake:
That th'Silken Gull might be as well displaid,
As th'Honest Sage, that is in raggs arraid:
Some skrapps whereof reseru'd, doe here affoord
A second Seruice to your friendly Boord,
Which if they taste too Walsh, 'tis th'English fault,
To serue vp first and not at last the Salt.

To the World.

World , thou art my Patron, yet beleeue mee,
I know not well what title I should giue thee;
For should I flatter, I must vse the feats
Of Pamphletters, who with strain'd Epithetes
Sooth their immetiting Patrons, writing thus;
Select Mecænas, graue, iudicious,
Vertues sole-champion, lineall heire to merit,
Arts chearefull Guardian, pure ethereall spirit,
Whose thoughts infranchis'd from inferiour things,
Gaine approbation from the Mouth of Kings,
Whose bosom's Learnings mansion, and giues
Life to our line whereby it ever liues:
But know (great Patron) I am none of these,
Who write to sooth, to temporize, or please,
To curry fauour with Thee, that my wants
Might be supplide like these base Sycophants,
Or Stage-Ardelioes, who their titles varie,
To make their Pens by prayses mercenarie.
No, I am made to taxe Thee and thy crimes,
Which like foule Tetters doe corrupt these times,
Through vertues exile, whose divinest Treasure
Lies rak'd in Ashes of depraved pleasure.
For tell me, thou large Continent of vice,
What may be now esteemed of most price,
Amongst thy Worldlings? Honour, honour, thou
Art shee to whom they Sacrifices doe;
Thou art that painted Idoll, whose esteeme
Some value more then soules, hows'ere they seeme:
While with ambitious wings they mount so high,
As like Icarian fooles they tutch the skie,
To make them heires of ruine; For we know
As States are most secure, which are most low,
So this vnbounded Greatnesse doth expresse it
Best in depressing him who doth possesse it.
Next this (for what is't Greatnesse may not doe)
Is a Grand crime which I'le deblazon too,
And it's Oppression, which doth still arise
From Widdowes teares, and from poore Orphanes cries;
Here doth a poore one craue he may haue right,
But 'las his Title is kept downe by Might,
Good is his cause and yet hee fareth worse,
Because loane fees doe issue from his Purse.
Then what reliefe may to the poore be giuen,
Saue to refer him and his cause to heauen!
For shrubbs by these high Pines are so kept vnder,
That if they rise they'r surely broke asunder.
Now ye fat Bulls of Basan (I must speake)
Why doe yee feed and prey vpon the weake,
Why doe yee grinde the faces of the poore,
To squize their state, their substance to deuoure,
As if exempt from Vengeance? Doe yee thinke
God's so indulgent Hee will ever winke
At your oppression, violence, and wrong!
No, he will strike though he ha's spared long,
And in his fury will estrange your Land
From you and yours, in turning of a hand.
Next partiall-guilt Corruption, I must make
Thy staine my Subiect for pure Iustice sake,
Whose sacred Shrine polluted by thy meanes,
Repines to see those time-eternis'd streames
Of Themis, troubled with that puddle stench,
Where bribed fists haue sole pre-eminence:
Here comes a Plaintiffe with a cause as good
As truth can make't if rightly vnderstood,
Yet 'cause he knows not whom or when to fee,
Hee's ouerthrowne against all equitie;
So as this Iustice was compar'd by one,
Aptly vnto the Celedonie stone,
Which Stone, as by Historians we are told,
Retaines her vertue being rubb'd with gold,
So as the Nature of the Stone is such,
As gold preserues her vertue with her tutch,
For ceasing but with Gold to rub this Stone
The secret vertue is extinct and gone.
Thrice blessed haue those dayes esteemed bin,
Which the renowmed Basill liued in,
When during th'time hee sat vpon his Throne,
Neither were Plaintiffe nor Defendant knowne,
But like Critolaus scale, with such even weight
Were all things pois'd, as equitie and right
Still gain'd the Conquest, and iniurious wrong
Was censur'd too, were th'Client nere so strong.
Demosthenes being asked, what Men had
That most resembled God, hee answered,
“Be charitable and embrace the truth,
'Tis this that God affects, and this he doth.
It is reported that at Athens, there
Certaine Graue Images erected were,
Which Images had neither hands nor eyes,
Implying thence that Iudges should despise
Bribes or affection, or divert from right
For friends respect to darken Iustice light.
O let these Mirrors (I will say no more)
Which haue divulg'd their fame so long before,
Be Annalls or Records for vs to read,
That as we imitate them, so our seede,
Carefull preservers of our Memorie,
May stampe like formes in their posteritie.
Next vnto thee thou Vlcer of this Land,
Which hales downe Vengeance from th'Almighties hand,
Vpon thy impious Contracts, Vsurie,
Thou hideous horror, forge of iniurie,
Fraud and collusion, thou prodigious pile,
Menacing desolation to this Ile,
And to her flourie borders, doe I come,
To giue thee notice of that fearefull doome,
Which shall, (as sure as Heauen) pronounced be,
Vpon those odious Imps that vsher thee.
This Canker-worme, as it is registred,
Was by Licurgus, Sparta banished;
In Egypt Amasis did punish it,
With such severitie as did befit;
Cato did banish't out of Sicilie,
Solon condemn'd it in that Nurcerie
Of fame-eternis'd Athens, which did heale
Many Distractions in the common-weale.
If wee from Pagans such examples gather,
Who had but light of Nature, how much rather
Ought we such horrid crimes to chace away,
Who haue bin taught far better things then they!
For we are Christians, and should rather giue
Ethnickes example how they ought to liue,
Then by a course depraued to expresse
That we are least what we by faith professe.
Of more (my Patron) could I censure thee,
As Incest, Sacriledge, Church-symonie,
Eare-marked periurie, which in each Coast
Sweares men out of their state by knights of th'Post;
With thousand more, but I must now prepare
To sing my Canto, styl'd, A fig for care,
Wherein I'le proue (nor care I if thou scoule)
The greatest Worldling is the greatest foole.

Cares Cure,

OR A figg for Care.

An Elegie, Entituled Bound yet free, speaking of the benefit of Imprisonment.

Free, yet Bound.

An Epigram Vpon Marriage, dilating vpon the seruile Freedome, or free Servitude of such as are Married.

A DIALOGVE BETVVEENE HOBBINOLL the Ploughman, and Nathaniell Spruce the Gentleman;

VVHEREIN It is proved, how Rusticitie hath advantage vpon Gentrie in the Libertie of Liuing.

Hobb:
Many good morrows to my Land-Lords heire;

Nath:
The like to Hobbinoll, but pray thee tell
What makes my Chuff to looke so fat and faire,
Thy plump-cheekes (Hobb) mine looke not halfe so well.

Hobb:
Not yours (young-maister)! there's no cause they should,
Care kills a Cat, there's not a day you liue
But you haue cares, I warrant, twentie folde
More then we feele: for first, before you wiue
You mun goe common with your neerest kin,
And if they thinke it fit her portion be,
With other things amang well equalling,
Perchance they will (if they be brib'd) agree.

Nath:
Brib'd Hobb! why can none without bribing haue her

Hobb:
Not fitly Maister; some-thing has some savour:
And councell well deserues to haue his fee,
For it's their liuing, and they must liue by it;

Nath:
Friends counsell's free;

Hobb:
Nay, whosoere they be
This you shall finde probatum, if you'le trie it,
Brains are as good demaines where there be braines
And certaine too, as any on our Down.

Nath:
Indeed where friends make of their friends againe.

Hobb:
And pray you say, is that but seldome knowne?
Yes, Maister, there is one and one I know,
For hee is my doore-neighbour, and indeed
A very Cricket, but of late did grow
So very rich, that now for store of breed
There is no Heardsman like him; yet his wealth
Grew to this height by th'benefit hee made
Of his entirest friends: though, since his health
'Gan to decay, hee sorrowes as it's said,
And well he may, for nere did any Swaine
In such short time so great revenues gaine.

Nath:
Sorrow, good Hobbinoll, what causeth it!

Hobb:
Why his estate Man, indirectly got;
And he may thanke his over-weening wit
For all his griefe.

Nath:
I tooke him for a Sot,
A very Goseling, one that could doe nought
But prate of Sheep-skins, or a breeding Ewe;

Hobb:
Yea, Maister, but if he could profit ought,
He would soone make a Goseling-bird of you,
So quaint he is, for I haue throughly tride him,
As scarce a man can keepe his owne beside him.

Nath:
It makes me wonder; but good Hobb: proceed,
And proue what Libertie you haue 'boue vs
That are your Lands-lords.

Hob:
Shall I Sr indeed?

Nath:
Yes pray thee Hobb;

Hob:
Then I will proue it thus:
We may goe wooe ilke weeke a sundrie Wench,
And none talke on't; but when you goe to wooe
There's such a stirre as there is no defence
Against report, for all must know it too.
And than a thousand things are to be done,
As Iointures, feoffments, ere the match be made,
Which (wele I wote) wee never thinke vpon,
But locke and like, and then are bargained.
And is it not, I pray you Maister say,
A shrude vexation to be barr'd our sport,
By being cross'd by such a long delay,
And kept from that when we came thether for't!

Nath:
Why man, our state requires mature advice,
And better is that Match like to succeede,
Where rashnesse hath no sway nor getts no prize
Then such as yours that's finish'd with such speede.

Hob:
Nay, Maister, for successe 'mongst such as you,
If Truth were knowne, we should but finde a few;
But I may safely sweare ere I were crost
Of her I lou'd, if shee did fancie mee
I would loose whatsoere I prized most,
And neuer stand vpon't so curiously:
Roundly to worke wee goe without ere spech
Of any feoffments and we thinke we're sped
Of state enough if wee a Marriage reach,
Though foure bare leggs are not enough in bed.

Nath:
No by my Faith Hob: there is more to doe
Then name of Marriage, which is such a state
As th'knot we tie wee never can vndoe,
Till it be loos'd by th'ordinance of Fate.

Hob:
Yes Maister, such as you knows to dispence
With such good haly things, for if there be
Betwixt the married paire a difference,
Then streight divorce is sew'd and presently
A Separation made; in which respect
Hob must confesse you haue more freedome far
Then such as he; for where we once affect,
Without remoouing we are ever there.

Nath:
Hob you are knavish growne, but let that passe;
Proceede to show wherein our libertie
Is lesse then yours.

Hob:
I'le tell you Sr; tyme was.
But that was clep'd a golden time, when we
(As Sheepherds vs'd) might sport vs on the Plaine,
Where Phyllis danc'd with Coridon the Swaine;
Each Sheepherd culld his deare and colld her too,
And in dispite of Fate possest that blisse
Where they had time to chat, to sport, to wooe,
Where shee did call him hers, and he her his:
Then (ô thrice happie then) nought was more lou'd
Nor worthier louing then a vertuous life;
Where sweete experience onely that approu'd
Was free from difference and exempt from strife:
Then were our feelds so free we needed not
Merestones or Buttells, for none durst approch
With violent hands to seaze on that we got,
Or by deceite vpon our Bounds incroch.
But afterward (as after-times proue worse)
A greedie kinde of humour did possesse
The mindes of Sheepherds, altring quite the course
Which they before held: being conscionlesse,
Betroth'd to no especiall One, but all
In a Communitie; where small distasts
Made them remoue their loue, and so to fall
To lavish their affections on Out-casts,
Stale-mercenaries that their honour prize
No more then Hacknies that are put to hire;
Or like our Neighbour Eliots, who deuise
How to fulfill the height of their desire,
How sinfull ere the practise be they make
Which for their lust they onely vndertake.
Thus Sheepherds grew, but for their low estate
Being inferiour to the better sort,
Their vices were scarce tax'd or pointed at,
Till by report (what's swifter then report)
The sundrie mischiefes done vpon the Plaines,
As by eye-witnesse daily did appeare,
Committed by the practise of those Swaines,
Came at the last to great Pandoxus eare.
Hee, as a gracefull Guardian, tendring still
The state of Sheepherds, yet much discontent
His whilome honest Swaines should grow so ill,
Sent some choice men to giue them chastisement;
Which they receiu'd and kindly entertain'd,
Admitting them to dwell amongst them too,
And so they did, where they not long remain'd
Till as the Swaines did, they began to doe;
So as these goodly Tutors grew in time
As ill, or worse then ere the Sheepherds were;
Vice hugging-hanting Minions, who in prime
Of yeares, gaue their whole liues to ryoting.
Which in processe of time did so possesse
Pandoxus minde, who was the Sheepherds King,
As hee admir'd the brute hereof no lesse
Then if his royall Crowne had beene deprest,
Nor could he see how this might be redrest;
For thus he argued: Greater that's the State,
By so much more obserued, and the ill
Which great-men doe, the worse will imitate;
For it hath beene a granted Maxime still,
“The better sort, or men in higher place
“Giue forme and fashion to the lower rank,
“And whatsoere they doe, these thinke't a grace
To second them, and oft-times conn them thanke
For their vndoing: and where vice grows strong,
Gaining an habit without knowledge had
To vertues Lore, it will be very long
Ere th'roots can be destroy'd or withered,
For if Prescription of one age be such,
As those who stand vpon authoritie
Or ground of title, will thinke too too much
To loose what they possess'd so aunciently;
Much more where vice hath taken deepest root
In vulgar minds, drawne from th'example too
Of greater men, and now hath gott a foot
In mens affections, t'will be much to doe
Quite to extirpe it: and yet what are these
(The meaner sort I meane) but Syrian Currs
That barke at th'Moone, men onely made to please
The greater, on whose sleues they cleaue like Burrs!
Nor will they be shak'd off; but sticke so nere
As they will either grow or perish there.
Yet heauens know this (with which Pandoxus sigh'd)
How ill soere the Multitude appeare,
The blame vpon the better sort must light,
And they the burden of their shame must beare:
For why! What meane men doe is lesse obseru'd
Then what the Great commit; for each mans eye
Is levell'd at his actions vndeseru'd,
Whose acts will liue although the actor die:
And this we see approu'd by instances;
“The glorious Sunne, if it eclypsed be,
“As men struck with amazement, streight we prease
“And fix our eyes on't as some prodigie
“Boding a strange event; but if a Star,
“Or such inferiour bodie loose her light,
“We lightly at such Obiects moued are,
“For these oppose small darknesse to our sight.
The like we may obserue in colours too,
“Stains are not seene in blacke so soone as white;
For spotlesse white will any blemish show,
Resembling nere the puritie of light,
Which sallow blacke, if it a blemish get
Will hardly show, for blacke will couer it.
Even so, for Men plac'd in more eminence
May be compar'd, and fitly to the Sunne,
Or purest white, hauing their residence
Spher'd aboue others, whom more eyes are on
Then atoms in the Sun, Sands on the shore,
Grasse-piles on Earth: when men of higher place
Stray in their actions, they haue euer more
To eye their humours, and to lay disgrace
On their degenerate Greatnesse, which shall spread
In liuing infamie when they are dead.
And thus Pandoxus argued, nor could he
For all his Princely vertues (as who ere
Possessed more) waine his Nobilitie
From th'vicious life wherein they nuzled were.
Yet what they did (as well Pandoxus said)
Was quickly bruted; but what wee committed
The meaner Swaines I meane, was silenced:
For wee, whose actions our conditions fitted,
Were neuer noted whatsoere wee did;
Yea, what is more, none were more prone to speake
Of great-mens errors, which were seldome hid,
Then wee, whose liues did like affections seeke.
For euery day we drunke our Sheepherds health
In Wassell Cupps, not caring for our Heards,
How well or ill they far'd, a figg for wealth,
Wee made our chopps wagg, and our grisled beards,
(Our Maister-Sheepherds) still discharg'd our score,
And would haue done't, if't had bin ten times more.

Nath:
Why, this was excellent, but pray thee say
Were you nere chastis'd for't?

Hob:
No, never Wee;
We plide our merriments from day to day,
And past our iollie liues as pleasantly
As if wee had beene Lords, and they our slaues
Whom wee in dutie seru'd; yea, I may sweare
I nere receiu'd from Thyrsus any braues,
But was esteem'd of him and his so deare,
That some haue ask'd, seeing him vse me so
Whether I was his owne, or that he meant
On Hobbinol some doughter to bestow,
And that, I'me halfe perswad'd was his intent,
For wee were halfe agree'd.

Nath:
Pray thee tell true;

Hob:
Yes marie Maister, it may well appeare
That wee were halfe agree'd, I'le say to you,
For I was well agreed to marrie her.

Nath:
What Hob conceited growne! but I will yeeld
To thy Discourse, for I haue oft times found
By due experience, that the priuate field,
Where th'carefull husbandman manures his ground,
Makes her poore farmer in a better state
Then the Prime Lord: for he may merry be,
Yet shall his actions nere be glanced at,
For his low ranke makes him from Rumor free.

Hob:
Yea Maister, I'le ensure you, if hee should
(As when the drinke is in the wit is out)
Throw house quite out at Windows, yet hee would
Be little talk'd of: but if you should doe't
Your name would soone be rumord, for your place
Would make men note you.

Nath:
Most certaine Hobbinol,
Which should induce men of more generous race
Choice and select socitie to cull,
Since th'veriest slaue that makes of time abuse,
With vs compar'd, advantage hath of vs.

A Pastorall Eglogue betweene Cuddie and Rowie.

Rowie.
Wele mett is Cuddie man of mickle la'er,
And mare he leues may hee haue ever mare,
For hee's a bonnie ging.

Cuddie.
Rowie for shame
Why doest thou ruse me, Thou art far to blame;
Smaw is my la'er, my knawledge lile worth,
When sike an ane as Rowie bouteth forth.

Rowie.
Ha Cuddie, but if anie did but mell
And tauke sae barely on thee but the sell,
Wele siker I'se that thou would pout full soure,
And ought or laug there would be capps ath floor.

Cuddie.
Thou's far misled; if I were sike an ane
I reede thee Rowie, I cudd haue a Swaine
A buxom Hussie, that for tougher and good
Ther's nane her fallow, and I her ha woed,
And many laikings has shee tane fra me,
Yet whan wee sud be yoak'd it will not be.

Rowie.
Why, it's an aud sain sa, sike men as thou
That knaws the maste, knawes lile how to wooe;
For I haue ane a Neibour wonning here
wha has a sonn that nere this dozen yere
Has bene at farran Scules, and now his Dad
Crankie and worne wad haue this Clarkly lad
To boun him to a Wife, and sooth to say
My daughter Tibb is shee that hee wad ha.
But sike a wooing (Cuddie) seld was sene,
He will not tell my Lasse what he doe's mene,
But taukes of Starres, and clipses of the Sun,
An on a Man stands staringith the Moone,
Of wether-gaws and many sike as these;

Cuddie.
But wele I wate these will not Tibbie please.

Rowie.
Na Cuddie na, shee's but an ingrant thing,
An lile recks for aw his coniuring:
Ya I may sa thus lang hee sought the wance,
And I nere saw him busse her mare than ance.

Cuddie.
The mickle Lummer's swaimish;

Rowie.
Hee's indede,
But twill be lang ere sike a Milk-sopp spede:
Hee that wull woo and win wha he does wooe,
Mun faune on her hee makes his suite vnto,
Ilke Morne and Even hee mun his seruice doe,
And be right blith, an shee wull tak it too;
Bukes make not Lovers wise, for hee that can
Put himself forwardst is the speeding man.

Cuddie.
Now is I wele avis'd, and sees how lang
I'ue gane astray and woo'd my Loue a-wrang;
For aw the chat I vs'd whan I dud wooe her,
Was to make knawn my learning ever to her,
And aye I thought that was the way to git her,
Whereas I fun that there was nane vnfitter,
For th'Scaffish Carri{n} wad not cum nere hand me;

Rowie.
The cause was this, Shee cud not vnderstand thee.

Cuddie.
Rowie it's true, and I may rue the day,
That I so fondly learn'd the woers way,
But wele I trow'd, but se how ill I sped,
Wha ere I wooed, I mut as frelie wed.

Rowie.
A faute wele knawn 'mang th'trimmer gang of men
Wha thinke whare they get ane they may get ten,
But we sall find, though they'r na chip the wiser,
These elvish Harlottries are oft the nicer.

Cuddie.
Alesse for wae, I nere knew anie faire,
But trow'd themsels far fairer than they were;
For this's a true said Saw'mang womanhood,
“Shee knaws but lile that knaws not to be proud.

Rowie.
Ruse women Cuddie, if thou meane to spede,
For kindlie words wull stand thee in good stede;
They are th'weaker ging, and yet we see
They oft-time proue to be as strang as wee.

Cuddie.
In will they are.

Rowie.
Then Cuddie buckle still
Sine they are strangst in wull, to doe their will.

THE PARROTTS SPRING.

Stolne waters be the sweet'st, may th'Parrot say,
Whose borrowed note and Coate his truth bewray:
But it's prodigious for Fowls to sing
Of Wood-cocks caught within a Parrotts spring.

Another vpon the same, Dialogue-wise, betwixt Sturnus and Struthio.

Struthio.
Parrot and Wood-cock are of late fall'ne out;

Sturnus.
Deare Struthio tell me what it is about?

Struthio.
I know not I, but as it seemes to me
'Cause th'Wood-cock ha's a longer bill then he;

Sturnus.
Why, that can be no cause, for if hee will
Parrot I'me sure can make as long a Bill.

Struthio.
Sturnus I know no other cause for it
Vnlesse it be that th'Wood-cock ha's more wit!

Sturnus.
Why hee ha's none at all;

Struthio.
Nor th'Parrot neither:

Sturnus.
Birds should be of one mind that's of one fether.

Struthio.
Yet shall we see some Wittalls, if we trie them,
Cannot endure a Wittall neighbour by them.

Sturnus.
Good God, to see wit weake and hate so strong!

Struthio.
It's seene i'th Wood-cocks Spring, and Parrots Song.

AN EMBLEME SHADOVVED In Narcissus admiring his owne Beautie: artfully portrayde by looking himselfe in a fountaine of pure running water;

on the Banke whereof, in a Christall Orbick was Nereus engrauen, with this cautionarie Imprese.

Dote not faire youth vpon thy face so much,
I was as faire, and yet my Fate is such.

VPON THE OTHER BANKE directly opposite, stood Pan the Arcadian God in Porphyrite, curiously featured:

who enamoured of the beauteous Nimph Syrinx, had her in eager pursuite: vpon the fringe of the Border was this Motto engrauen.

Englished

The Sheepheards God with

Inter eas {V}irgines quæ Dijs petuntiús solitabantur, aphnidem, assandram [illeg.] Syringem rum votis nicè obstisse tradi[illeg.]imest.

Syrinx beautie ta'ne,
Had her in chase, whence pipes from Syrinx came.
If pipes proceeded from restraint of ill,
Play pipe, mount May-poule, we'le be frolick still.

The second part.

EBRIVS EXPERIENS;

OR The Drunkards humour.

Some say I drinke too much to write good lines;

Tassoes Apollogie transcribed wherein a Drunkard Humour is to life described.

Indeed I drinke, more to obserue the Times,
And for the loue I beare vnto my friend
To hold him chat, then any other end:
Yea, my Observance tells mee I haue got
More by discoursing sometimes ore a Pot,
Then if I had good-fellowship forsooke,
And spent that houre in poring on a booke.
And this's the cause (we see it now and then)
“The greatest Clerkes are not the wisest men:
Which is confirm'd by Times-experienc'd Schoole,
“The meerest Scholler proues the meerest foole.
Yet to maintaine that Vice I'le ever shon
Which claimes prerogatiue in Albyon:
For know, these Pott-shots, I so much abhorre them
That though in pittie I am sorry for them
So to deforme their forme which is divine,
And make't more like the Image of a Swine;
Yet I so weigh them as they nere shall be
Partners of any secret knowne to mee,
For him my Bosom-friend I'le never make,
Who'le loose his reason for acquaintance sake.
Yet now and then to these men I will show
Some odd respect and spend my pennie too,
To gaine me knowledge of what humours raigne
By my Observance in all sorts of men.
For I doe know no humours euer were,
Which shall not be in part decyphered there.
One you shall see has Crochetts in his braine,
And hopes ere many dayes to Conquer Spaine;
Vp goe his scaling Ladders to the walls,
Which hauing rer'd, this reeling Captaine falls,
And falling thus he cryes to such stand by,
“Souldiers reuenge, your Captaine now must die.
An other's sottish drunke, and hee's for sleepe;
The third so tender-harted he must weepe,
Of which sort I haue knowne some pule and crie,
If they had heard but th'killing of a flie.
The fourth is Courtier-drunke, whose element
Is tyed to Kisses, Congies, Complement,
Of which sort many you shall each where see,
Who spend an houre in making of a knee,
Which hauing done, completely turning round,
It's ten to one they fall vnto the ground.
Once forth I went invited by my friend,
An houre or two in fellowship to spend,
Which were not idely spent, for each was bound,
As he was generous to drinke his round.
So generall grew this same generous health,
As some were faine to get away by stealth,
With many topsie-turvie strange adventures,
'Twixt wall and kennell making long endentures.
Others more wise (tho full as drunke) had care
To keepe their weake brains from the piercing ayre,
And therefore made their Pillow of their capp,
Setling their witts by taking of a napp.
My friend and I who yet had gift to stand
And goe, for we came on the latter hand,
Obseruing this, with one vnited force,
Resolu'd to trie a better and a worse:
To it we went, we two being all were left,
(For all the rest of sense were quite bereft)
Where either call'd for wine that, best did please,
Thus helter skelter drunke wee vpsefrese.
Bring Malmsey, quoth my friend, it's good for th'back,
And I to please my palate call'd for Sack;
So long we Sack't it till our Forts were wonne,
Round run the world, and we both fell downe:
Where whilest we lay (for now the ieast began)
My friend nere shew'd his louing heart till than.
Close 'bout my necke he hung and claspt me fast,
“Vowing his Saint all other Saints surpast,
“And I was Shee: O thou art of that grace,
Thus he began, then rifts he in my face,
As none, ô none, then could he not afford
To gaine a kingdome, halfe another word.
But canst thou loue? to satisfie his choice,
I told him Yes, faining a Womans voice:
For I had so much sense left in my braine,
As I resolu'd to trie his Cupping vaine;
Then vp he counts (tho wine of wit had reft him)
How many farmes his Father now had left him,
All which (quoth he) must to our heires succeede,
Which I found true, for All came vp indeede:
Beside, and happie may that word betide,
“For of that All came vp, some fell beside,
Which, if it had nor had a speedie vent,
Had gon well nie t'haue drown'd his beauteous Saint.
Thus lay we long like Images of death,
Whilest the fat Lubber prest me vnderneath;
Stirre could I not, so motionlesse was I,
Whilest he did coll and kisse me louingly;
Yea, I am perswad'd, if the Drawer had not come,
As good hap was, into our forlorne roome,
By kisses store (so kinde a heart had he)
He had gone nere in time to stifle mee,
For breathlesse I could neither speake nor moue me,
So heauie was the Block that lay aboue me.
At last releas'd, and both vpon our feete,
To quench the passion of our Loue-sicke heate,
On tearmes of friendship, now to make an end,
I was coniured by my Kissing friend
To pledge him but one Health, and then depart,
Which if I did Is'de ever haue his hart,
I gaue assent; the Health, fiue sences were,
(Though scarce one sence did 'twixt vs both appeare)
Which as he drunk I pledg'd; both pledg'd & drunk,
Seeing him now full-charg'd, behinde I shrunke,
Whilest hee his meaning copiously displaide,
And in the Chimney all his senses laide.
Nay, then good-night (quoth I) I will not stay
With him that casts his senses so away,
For this in me Experience begitts,
“He cannot loue his friend that loaths his witts.
Yet as a friend I caus'd him to be led,
In a magestick sort vnto his bed,
For hauing left his senses there behinde him,
I plac't him there, that they next Morne might finde him.
“Thus much for Humours which so diuerse be,
“As in each Subiect there's varietie,
“All which obseru'd with apprehensiue eyes,
“May add vnto the knowledge of the wise;
For weake's his iudgement or deprau'd's his will,
“Cannot extract good from apparent ill.

The Old-mans Hearse;

OR The Yong-mans Iubile.

Hears't thou not Vitulino, who is dead!
Thy father man; nay, hang not downe thy head
Like to a Bull-rush: there's no cause at all
That thou so childishly shuld mone his fal
Whose fall's thy rising; for He wish'd to die,
Yea, and to put his Soule in ieopardie,
With his iniurious course to make thee rich,
Or thy wrong Father'd Imps he car'd not which:
But what is that to thee, thou need'st not care,
How his sin-pricked-pressed soule doth fare;
The Prouerbe is, how ere th'effect seeme euill,
“Happie's that Sonne, whose Father goes to th'Deuill.
Yet shed some fained teares; but I doe feare,
Th'art not so tender-harted, therefore heare
What thou shalt doe; put on a Vergis-looke,
And tye an Onion in thy Napkins nooke,
Which will enforce thee weepe, (right sure I am)
And make thee seeme a tender-harted man?
But many things it's fitting thou should haue,
To bring Him honestly vnto his Graue;
As first, though He was first that ere exprest,
His Gentrie by his Coate or by his Crest,
Thou must prouide some Herald that may draw
His late-vnknowne descent, and by the Law
Of Armes may Gentilize the Pesant so,
As you for Gentlemen may after goe.
Which, that each thing may be in order done,
Let th'Herald ranke the Mourners one by one,
Where some poore snakes that cottage on thy Land
May carry each a Scutchion in their hand,
And seeme to mourne, tho they were much to blame
To mourne his death that sought to beggar them.
But some Diuine thou must haue to commend
His zealous life, and his Religious end;
Which taske, as it thy bountie doth require,
“For th'Labourer is worthie of his hyre,
Clapp me a brace of Angells in his fist,
And that will make him say, Thy Father's blist,
Though his corrupted Conscience say no,
For what is it good Angells will not doe?
O how he'le make the Church ring with his prayse,
Entitling Him, the Mirrour of his dayes,
A Patron of pure Iustice, one, whose doore
Was thronged still with crowding of the poore,
(Without least crum of comfort) being knowne,
To be the Almes-basket of the Towne.
And then He'le faine a teare, and wish to see
The happie end of many such as Hee;
And he ha's cause to wish it, for their death
Might guild in time his mercenarie breath.
Then He'le descend to mans Mortalitie,
Which He'le dilate on as historically;
“Where's good Æneas, Tellus, Ancus he
“That was so rich? as other Mortalls be,
“Consum'd to dust, so as that supreme blesse
“They plac'd in Wealth, 's reduc'd to rottennesse,
And will not this doe brauely? when a Swine
That nere did one good deed in all his time,
But grunting in his Stye, or in his Stall,
Nere fed

Mieam pe{r}it Lazarus & [illeg.]inon datur, guttam Diues postulat & non [illeg.]uditur.

staru'd soule but at his Funerall,
Must be canoniz'd Saint! thrice blessed gold,
That art so soueraigne to eternize mould,
And make corruption glorious, whose esteeme
Can make our foulest vices vertues seeme!
Where an Incarnate Diuell that did shon
The sight of God is made an Angell on,
Transpos'd from earth to heauen; yet ten to seuen
In all his life He scarce once thought on Heauen.
Now when he ha's thy Fathers vertues show'd,
Wilt thou not thinke thy Angells well bestow'd?
Yes Vitulino, and will make this vse
Of his depraued Doctrine: Times abuse
Drawne from oppression, iniurie, and wrong,
May purchase praises from a hyrelings tongue,
Sooner then best deseruings; which may be
A motiue to thy owne Securitie,
Obseruing how Opinion oft-times giues
“Best name to him that most securely liues.
This done, & now the slope-sleu'd mourning gowne
Is from his sable Pulpit comming downe,
And thy worme-breeding Father's to be laide
In his last home, there must a Tombe be made
Of Porphyrite Marble, or the Thracian stone,
To memorise his Worship being gone;
Whereon t'engraue some verse, were not amisse,
T'expresse his worth, as such an one as this.
“Demas dide rich they say, but 'tis not so,

Vpon the late deceased Pinchgut Demas.

“For he dide poore, and was indebted too;
“How should that be? obserue me & I'le tell yee
“He dide indebted both to backe and bellie,
“For all He scrap'd from his Atturneyes fees,
“Seru'd but starue his maw with bread and cheese:
“So as 'mongst those we rightly may him call,
“Whose life spent lesse then did his Funerall.
“For all his life his house scarce eate one beast,
“Yet dead, his Son makes vp the Churles feast.
This Monument when thou erected hast,
And on the front a Plate of Brasse hast plas't,
With this Inscription, or one of like sort,
(But Epitaphs indeed should be more short)
Let this same Tombe where thou thy Father lay
Be th'place of payment on each festiuall day;
For't would delight the old Chrone but to heare
His Sonne and heire to make his Checker there:
Besides chinke, chinke's a Misers heauen on earth,
And therefore now when He is in the dearth
Of comfort, it were good t'allay his paine
With sight of that would raise him vp againe.
But now to thee, who like Stericydes
Canst draw Sun, Moone, and Starres what way thou please
With thy guilt Iacobs staffe, me thinkes I see,
By calculating thy natiuitie
In thee (yet I'me no Wizard) Midas Fate
“That staru'd himselfe to better his estate.
Yet thou'lt descend to th'Lapp of Danae,
Mall, Besse, coy Kate, or bashfull Barbarie,
In showers of gold, and then will wish and wooe,
But still with gold, for else thou know'st not how;
And promise all content, as curious fare,
Gorgeous attyre, and pleasures 'boue compare,
Destilled ambers, pearled broaths, and th'fruit
Which wretched Adam tasted; for no doubt
“Women doe loue that fruit which is denide them
“More then all profferd fruit that grows beside them.
But what's this Vitulino? Doest not know,
A wanton Wench will not be pleased so?
A toothlesse Hagg perchance, whose onely Blisse
Consists in hoording, will like well of this,
And will adore thy Golden-calfe, for shee
In other ioyes ha's no felicitie;
But such, whose prime of yeares, and pride of youth,
Grac'd with a smile as blith, a skin as smooth,
Charm'd with Loue-whispring tales, Loue-piercing eyes,
Rapt with delight of dreaming fantasies,
Wedded to loue, not wealth, content, not gold,
Being so free as riches cannot hold,
Nor power restraine, scorne with their heeles to haue
Their vncontroul'd affections made a slaue
To dunge or drosse, where loue is oft-times crost,
The most in that where it possesseth most.
And yet how soueraigne is't to see a chest
Ramm'd with whole heapes of gold; O shee is blest
That may possesse so glorious a Saint!
Indeede shee were if there were no content
But in possessing; but alas we finde
There is another Secret in the minde,
That passeth earth, such difference doe we feele,
'Twixt Plutoes Court, and Platoes Common-weale.
Yet boast thou may, that thou art one of those
That hast to guild thy friends, to gall thy foes;
For who will not attend thee and bestow
Their best observance on thy trencher too,
And cappe and knee this Isis Asse of wealth,
and cry,—The Lord preserue your worships health?
But if thou'de looke into the inner man,
And th'treasure He enioyes, I doubt me than,
Thou wouldst complaine, and thy estate deplore,
To see thy Soile so rich, thy Soule so poore.
Indeed I must confesse th'hast wealth at will,
Store of possessions, and increasest still
Thy large-inhanced rents; but (pray thee) can
These (of themselues) make thee a happie man?
No Vitulino, for when Time shall come,
Thy pompe must be reduced to a Tombe,
A shrowding sheete, a silly clott of clay,
And all those Summer-gnats are flowne away,
(Thy fained friends I meane) wealth cannot bayle thee
From those tormenting pangs that shall assayle thee.
Where's then thy

Aurum etsi volueris, forte non habebis: Deum cum volueris, habebis. Aug.

Gold, those Lands lay here and there,
Perchance possessed by another Heire
Then He for whom thou aym'd them; yea 'tmay be
That He thou hated most (as oft we see)
Claimes to be thy Successour! and can this
That adds grace to our foes, include our blisse?
It cannot; therefore heare me ere I leaue thee,
My lines shall say, I loue thee, though I grieue thee.
Take an

Sit filius ipse parenti in patris exumplum.

example by that faithlesse Iew,
Whose soule I feare (and ô I doubt too true
Is my religious feare) who had the name
Of an Oppressor: though from him thou came,
Trace not his stepps; let charitable deedes
Be those renewing and reviving seedes
Which blossome in thy soule; remember hence
“No griefe like to a wounded Conscience.
Make not the Widdow weepe, the Orphane cry,
Sith euery teare that falleth from her eye,
Is botteld by the Lord; relieue the poore
Out of the great aboundance of thy store;
Make

Non remittitur peccatum, donec restituitur ablatum.

restitution with good Zebedee
Of what thy Father got iniuriously;
“So Fame acknowledging her selfe thy Debter,
“Shall say,—once prou'd the Sonne the Fathers better.

The Eye.

Menippus and Mercator.
Menip.
Helpe (Reuerend Chremes) helpe what shall I doe?
Mine eyes, mine eyes.

Mer.
How now, whats matter now?

Menip.
Oh Chremes helpe me with your Spectacles,
I haue such paine and dimnesse in mine eyes.

Mer.
Dimnesse my Sonne, some cloud, some pannickle,
Some Cataract, perhapps it's but some pearle.
Puluis Benedictus, the Collirium
I cleped Ierosollimitanum
Were excellent; Oculus Christi's sure.

Menip.
True, but my sicknesse ha's indeed no cure.

Mer.
Why thine eyes well.

Menip.
No, there's before mine
A webb, a mist, so rancke, I cannot spie
A Thiefe, that takes my Purse before my face;
A Letcher may from's friend get speciall grace,
A winke, a nodd, a foote, a wringe, a kisse,
Sent by some Childe, yet I see none of this.
Th'vngracious sonne too, for his Syre may dight
The iuyce of Henbane, Poppie, Aconyte,
Cantharides, or Salamanders bloud,
And I taste some, yet call it wondrous good;
A foole may find a Hare beside my nose,
And catch her too; for I am none of those
That can discouer profit, whether 't sayle
I'th likenesse of a Meynard, or a Whale.

Mer.
But where's thy paine then?

Mer.
Marrie Grandsyre this,
Mine eyes they smart to see the happinesse
Of fooles; how prosperous honour follows knaues,
Or when they spie a crew of cringing Slaues,
That to an Idoll bow, and kisse their hand,
That cares not two-pence which of them were hang'd,
So's Lacquey scape, his Cooke, his Horse-keeper,
His Barber, Pander, and his flatterer.
Mine eyes ake too, as oft as they behold
A russet Swaine, his clothes not onely old,
But's selfe growne so with winding at the screw
Of the Lawes Labyrinth: which endlesse tew,
(Like th'webb of Ithaca) many record
Three times t'out-strip Drakes voyage 'bout the world:
I say they ake, when 'gainst the flintie earth.
He knocks his knees, to homage him whose breath
Perhapps must stab him, and with some French friske
Poyson him like a banefull Basiliske.
Nor is the Countrey vtterly exempt
From Obiects too, that breede my discontent.
Mine eyes ake there, as often as I looke
Vpon a Sheepheard, that should with his crooke
Defend his flocke, and driue away the Fox,
To see him mall the same with fatall knocks,
And beat his dogs, and giue the Wolfe that stands
Watching his prey, his young and tender lambs.
Againe mine eyes they paine me wondrous sore,
to see a greasie Lout that ha's more store
Of deadly sinnes then

See Ariosto.

of Diuinity,
For xviii. hundred pound immediately;
Aduanc't into no ordinary chaire,
A fellow that can talke of nought but fare.
Pig, Turquey, Pheasant, wine of Crete or Gaule,
Or

Rhennish.

Heidle-berge, whether's more cordiall.
Potato, Chyna, or Eringian root,
O how my Eyes they start, they sting and shoot
To see this dropsie paunch, that now outswells,
The monstruous belly of Pantagrewells:
Tumbling as in Pontificalibus,
While diuine spirits and ingenious
To him like water Spaniells must croutch loe
To take the ducks of his command.

Mer.
so, so;
I doubt thine eyes be Linceus matches, else
What office hast thou for my Spectacles?

Menip.
Good Sr. I would discouer now with them,
What store of Whales, this yeare there shalbe tane
About the Pole, and whether those that goe
From Brill to yeare shall profit yea or no!

Mer.
Why foole these be not like Prospectiue glasse.

Menip.
No, I know that, most reuerend aged Asse;
And yet with these, thy sight doth farre excell
Cycillian Straboes, that could truely tell
The Ships of Carthage, & thou these neare showes,
What's done within the Compasse of thy house,
And thine owne sheetes: yet canst thou cleerely see,
To Greene-land, Bantham, and there what will be.
The price of Pepper, Cloues and Mace this yeare
And what's like either to be cheape or deare,
In each place of the habitable world,
Such wondrous helpe these spectacles afford.
Thou seest what store of Sables there shall come
From Rhezan, spotted Armines from the Donn.
Thou seest when warres betwixt the Turke shall rise
And Sophie, then, then brasse wil beare good prize.
Thou seest the sugar Canes in Chyna too,
Silke ranke as grasse, which makes thee hunt out so
The North-West passage to preserue the men
That thither may returne, but two of ten
From this lov'd Golgatha. A hundred weight
Of Sugar six pence! why, who would not freight
With all the elements to get to Iapon,
A March-pane three times cheaper then a Capon.
Oh happy Eyes, which certainly will soone
Discouer next new nations in the Moone,
And what commoditie, what quintessence
Of newer traffique may be had from thence.

Mer.
What dost thou mocke me now? Thou meagre spy
Got by consent of some Anatomy,

This is spoken as he is going away in a chafe: expressing the testie Nature of Age. Imprecatio.

Ile teach ye ieast at a Magnifico.

Exit.
Menip.
What are ye gone? stay, let my blessing goe
along with thee; may, may thy gracelesse sonne,
Of all that thou dishonestly hast wonne,
Not leaue a groat: let him make duckes and drakes
Too of thy money, that their flight may take
Into the coffers of safe-keeping Thames,
Then let him lauish out all that remaines
To lull his sences in a Lethargy

It is heere to be vnderstood, the reason why the Satyrist directs his imprecatiō not to himselfe, but to his sonne; it is because nothing can be sayd to an old man, that will so soone moue his patience concerning himselfe, being vpon the point of going hence; as the malediction of his sonne, in whom are laid vp all his hopes, and resemblance of a new life in his posterity: in whom he may be sayd to liue after death, as he deriued from him naturally, breath.

Of pleasure curelesse, vntill beggary,
Nip him by th'sleeue and make him try a friend
In vaine for six-pence; (for, but few will lend
Great summes to desperate debtors): last of all,
Let him die leprous in an Hospitall.

Vpon Fortune.

Fortune, who calls thee blinde is not to blame,
For so much is imported by thy name;
Worth thou respects not: he that doth inherit
Thy blinde estate is one of least demerit;
Who knowes not worth, but's wont to derogate
From style of Man, to better his estate.
Fondling that fawnes on greatnesse, I detest
To be by thee or thy vaine fauours blest;
For if I should, who liue in Wisedomes Schoole,
Would gather hence I were some brain-sicke foole
That had no meanes (for so they would report me)
But iust as purblinde Fortune did support me.
And what were I then but a garish Asse,
That casts a perfume where he's wont to passe;
protesting (vaine protests) he ha's betraide,
A Ladies honour by her Chambermaide;
Sweares by his silken sinnes, he can dispence
With faith, friend, promise, soule, and Conscience;
To make his way more cleare, more eminent,
Vnto his Courtly Puppet, his faire Saint;
Whose onely glory is to vaunt of sinne,
“And as he boasts of her, shee feedes on him!
O World, how vaine is he that doth rely
Vpon thy fained, forged flattery;
When best deserts (so thin is merit sowen)
Are to degrees of worst opinion growne?
When Time affords no ioy but vnto such,
As are esteem'd for hauing ouermuch;
And younger Brothers, onely heires of wit
For want of meanes, are forc'd to silence it!
“Farewell imperious Mole, I doe defie thee,
“Since none but wittalls can be fauour'd by thee.

Vpon Mya.

The Signe in Cancer.

A crabbed Shrow through sicknes weakly brought,
Wish't by all meanes a Doctor might be sought,
Who by his Art that hee her griefe might know,
Felt both her pulse, and cast her water too;
Which done, He to her Husband turn'd againe,
And wish'd him be content, all was in vaine:
For when the Signe's in Cancer shee should die;
To whom her Husband answer'd presently;
“If that my learned Doctor had beene so,
She had beene dead beleeue it long agoe:
For these ten yeares and odd she ha's beene mine,
And I ne're knew yet out of that Signe.

Hymens Eglogue betwixt Admetus and Menalchas.

Menal.
What makes Admetus sad, what ere it be,
Some cause there is that thus hath alter'd thee;
Is it the losse of substance or of friends,
Or thy content in discontentment ends:
Is it some scruple in thy conscience,
Which vnresolu'd doth leaue thee in suspence;
Is it that thou thy long-wish'd Loue should leese?

Admet.
No no, Menalchas it is none of these.

Menal.
Thou art not sicke;

Admet.
Nor sicke, nor greatly well.

Menal.
Where lies thy griefe?

Admet.
My countenance will tell;

Menal.
Smooth is thy brow, thy count'nanc'e fresh enough:

Admet.
But cares haue made my wreakefull minde as rough;

Menal.
Of cares Admetus!

Admet.
Yes I haue my share:

Menal.
Yet hope of cure;

Admet.
No hope of cure to care.

Menal.
Nay then I se 'tis loue that thee doth wring:

Admet.
Thou errs Menalchas, it is no such thing.

Menal.
If therefore losse of friends, nor losse of wealth,
Want to enioy thy loue, nor want of health,
If neither discontent nor griefe doe show
Care in thy face, nor sorrow in thy brow,
If thou be free, as we all know thee free,
Engag'd to none, what is it grieueth thee?

Admet.
Wouldst know Menalchas?

Menal.
Yes;

Admet.
I'le tell thee than;
“The case is alter'd, I'me a married man.

Hymens Choyce.

Loues Description.

Loue , what's thy name? a phrensie; whenc'e thy birth?
From heauen; how comes it then thou liues on earth?
I liue not there; yet each vsurps thy name:
It's true indeede, but hence redounds their shame!
I liue not there, my Nature's pure and iust,
But lust liues there, and loue's a foe to lust.

AN HYMNE THALASSICALL, OR NVPTIALL;

implying Two worths included in one Name, Paradoxally intimating the true happie State of contented Love.

What I haue, that I craue,
Frank I lost, yet Frank I haue;
Happie am I in possessing
Of her that giues Loue a blessing:
Blessed loue 'boue earthly ranke,
Stated in my style of Franke,
Happie style that thinkes no shame
In respect of nature, name,
Forme, affection, and in all
To be Franke, as we her call.
Yet so franke, that though shee be
Free, it's in such modestie,
As no Creatures are, haue bin,
Can, or may taxe her of sin.
Pure in Loue, sincere in heart,
Faire by Nature, not by Art,
Crimson blushes which display,
Reddest euen makes cleerest day;
Cleerest, where like Ida's snow
Lillies on her cheekes doe grow;
Yet so mixt with true delight,
As the red contends with white;
Yet ore'comm'd with Modesty,
red ore white gets victory.
Thus two Franks in beauty one,
Yeelds enough to dote vpon;
Equall both in fauour, feature,
Honour, order, name and nature;
Both inclining to one stature,
Equall'd by no earthly creature.
For if I should paint them out,
From the head vnto the foot,
I should make you then confesse
They were earthly Goddesses:
And that Nature made these two,
As those Mirrors which might show
Her perfection and her store,
Challenging, who could giue more!
Thus both equall in one letter,
One to either, neither better;
Twin-like seeme as Time had fixt them,
As two Spheres not one betwixt them;
Yet if needs one th'best doe craue,
In my thoughts it's she I haue:
She, whose vertues doe excell
As they seeme imparalell;
Modest, yet not too precise,
Wise, yet not conceited wise;
Still in action, yet her will
Is so pure it ne're acts ill;
Virgin-modest, yet delights
To discourse of Hymens rights;
Yet she blushes when she heares,
Ought that's light sound in her eares;
And with skarlet-die displaies,
What to Women yeelds most praise:
For praise-worthy 'tis in women,
To blush at that Act is common;
Since in speech those actions show
Ill, which modest are to doe;
For a Maid should be afraid,
Hearing th'losse of Maiden-head.
With this Poem, and a Pearle
Sent to Frank my faithfull Girle;
I conclude with friendly vow,
To my Frank her neigbour too.

An Elegiack Sonnet.

THE VVIDDOVV BRIDE.

Faire shall I name thee, to expresse thy worth!
Nay, thou hast something else to set thee forth,
Then thy externall beautie, which no time
Shall ere deface, and that is truely thine.
Though outward white grac'd with an inward faire,
Vnite in one, exceedeth all compare.
For what may glorious Saints, whose divine feature
Immortaliz'd aboue an humane Creature,
Appropriate vnto themselues saue this,
Though they'r invested with the roabe of blisse!
Pure is their Stole, the State of innocence,
Full be their Lamps of divine influence,
Complete's their Armour, and their order too,
“Thus they attend the Lambe where ere he goe.
And thou terrestriall Angell, who canst giue,
(Though young) example to the old to liue,
Divines what thou shalt be: for I doe see,
All sacred Graces treasured in thee;
As in some curious artfull Cabbinet,
Where Patience shines as a rich Iewellet
Set in a precious Tablet, which may best
Allusion haue to thy vnspotted brest,
Where vertues haue their Mansion: should I speake
More freely of thy Merits? I will seeke
No moderne Modell to conforme the State
Of my affections, or will imitate
Any with affectation, but that grace
Which thou reserues in action, speech, and pace.
Honour of ages, what a Sympathie
Of soule-enthroning vertues workes in thee,
To make thee more affected! Where desire
Of Moderation tempers th'heat of ire;
Content all selfe-repining, and delight
To see another prosper, that base spite
Which worldly Moles expresse from day to day,
In seeing others flourish more then they.
No, thou art Earthly Sainted, and canst taste
What fruit's in Mundane pleasure being past,
When this same Circle of our humane blesse
Quite run about, shall end with wretchednesse
And is not this aboue th'conceit of Man,
That thou the weaker sex shouldst seeme to span,
This abstract of thy life with such respect
Vnto thy soule form'd by that Architect,
Whose glory is thy ayme? Nay, that thy prime
Scarcely arriu'd at th'freshnesse of her time,
Should so disvalue Earth, as to bestow
Thy heart on Heauen, thy frayler part below.
Where life like to a shade, whose vading glorie
Summs vp our discontents as in a Storie,
Gets disesteeme with thee, fixing thine eye
Vpon a more transcendent Emperie.
But that which shall extend thy dayes more long
Then time can limit, is thy suffring wrong,
Smiling at iniuries, as if thy brest
Were of that temper, griefes could not molest,
Nor soile her glorious Mansion, but appeares
More eminent by th'Iniuries shee beares.
I'ue heard indeed, some Womans Nature's such
As they can hardly ever beare too much;
The sense whereof, hows'ere our Criticks take it,
May be confirm'd in thee; for thou doest make it
The Trophie of thy Triumph, and the Crowne
Of all thy Conquest, to be onely knowne
Thy selfe in thy affliction, where reliefe
“In Soules sole solace giues receipt to griefe.
“For Palms pressd downe doe ever rise the more,
“And Spices bruis'd smell sweeter then before.
So as this Sentence verifide may bee,
Thou tyres affliction, not affliction thee.
Mirrour of Women, what a triumph's this,
When there is nought how great soere it is
That can depresse thy Minde below the Sphere
Where it is fixed! For 'tis this I sweare,
And onely this, which moues me to affect
Thy selfe far more then any light respect,
Drawne from the tincture of a moving faire,
Which to minds Beautie's short aboue compare.
For I haue knowne the smoothest sleekest skin,
Soild with the blemish of so foule a sinne
As Beautie lost her lustre by that staine,
Which once made blacke could nere be white againe.
But Thou in both complete, art such an one
As without assentation there is none
May glory more of what shee doth possesse,
Though on my knowledge none doth glory lesse.
And happie hee if hee had knowne his happ,
Who might repose in such a Ladies lapp,
Secure from censure: but how weake is sence
When Reason's darkned through Concupiscence!
Alasse of Error; that our humane eye,
Expos'd to lust and boundlesse libertie,
Should derogate from Man: where if wee knew
How Woman's to expect from Man her dew,
As Man from Woman; we should streight infer
“To thinke of a strange beautie, is to err.
He who did till those flowrie fields, which lay
Like Adons groue nere to the Milkie Way,
If he had knowne what happinesse it is
In mutuall loue t'enioy a mutuall blisse,
Where two diuiduate Soules doe selfely moue
By one vnited Sympathie in loue;
Hee would haue thus concluded sure I am,
“Who dotes on more then's owne is lesse then Man.
But now to thee my lines their loue extend,
Making thy selfe their Centre where they end.
“Thou mildest mould of Matron Modestie,
“Liue as Thou liu'st and gaine eternitie;
Patience shall giue thee convoy, fame renowne,
Both wch contend to reach thee triumphs Crowne.

TO HIS MVCHE-STEEMED FRIEND Sr G. D. Knight;

The accomplish'd issue of his best wishes.

If promise be, as it is said to be
A Debt, you may expect the like of me;
Which tho it be not pai'd, it shall be don
And then your quittance for my Corydon.
Receiue him Sr. for trust mee hee's your owne,
And one that will be knowne where you are known;
Whom if you cherish (as I hope you will)
From yeare to yeare hee'le better's running still,
And grow in time to be a Dogge of prize,
And scorne to spend his mouth in common cries;
For time will come (as I perswaded am)
When hee'le be heard and hallow'd too of Pan.

CORYDON,

OR The Western-Huntsman.

Vpon Censure.

Well , ill, or neither, but indifferent,
How ere your censure be I am content;
For hee's a fauning foole, the Worlds minion,
That onely writes to gaine himselfe opinion.

Vpon his name, to whom his Encomiastick vpon the Common Law was Dedicated.

ASTREA DAVINPORTA Anagram. veni, porta ad astra.

Astreas name and yours doe both agree,
And both I hit, yet both mistaken bee.