A36014	----	XXV select allusions to several places of Horace, Martial, Anacreon and Petron. Arbitr. Part I written by Mr. Dilke. Dilke, Mr. (Thomas), d. ca. 1698. 1698 Approx. 26 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 17 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A36014 Wing D1480 ESTC R29724 11196682 ocm 11196682 46692 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A36014) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 46692) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1439:52) XXV select allusions to several places of Horace, Martial, Anacreon and Petron. Arbitr. Part I written by Mr. Dilke. Dilke, Mr. (Thomas), d. ca. 1698. Anacreon. Petronius Arbiter. Horace. Martial. [6], 26 p. Printed for Peter Buck ... and sold by R. Baldwin ..., London : 1698. Running title: Select allusions. Reproduction of the original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng 2006-02 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-05 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-05 Robyn Anspach Sampled and proofread 2007-05 Robyn Anspach Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion XXV SELECT ALLUSIONS , TO Several places of Horace , Martial , Anacreon , and Petron. Arbitr . Part I. Written by Mr. Dilke . Nos Convivia , nos praelia Virginum , Sectis in juvenes unguibus acrium Cantamus vacui ; sive quid urimur , Non praeter solitum laeves . Hor. LONDON , Printed for Peter Buck , at the sign of the Temple , near the Inner Temple Gate in Fleetstreet ; and sold by R. Baldwin in Warwick-lane . 1698. THE PREFACE . I Am not insensible that many Objections may he made against these following Allusions ; tho I shan't trouble my self to Answer 'em , lest by that means I supply some sort of people with Weapons , that otherwise cou'd not furnish themselves . All that I shall say by way of Preface is , That these Poems were never design'd for the morose ill-natur'd part of Mankind ; but for the Men of Pleasure and Generosity . And shou'd such persons as these find any thing in them that can contribute to their satisfaction , I know my faults will be easily Pardon'd . I have , to the best of my power , familiarly adapted my Authors to our present Circumstances of Time and Custom , so that their notions might be relish'd with as little expence of Thought as possible . If they will bear the perusal with the same ease , freedom and pleasure that I found in writing 'em , 't is enough for my purpose . 'T is true I have taken a great deal of liberty both as to the manner of Composure , and as to the Matter itself , and may sometimes seem to be very foreign from the subject propos'd . Indeed 't is my Opinion that Allusions do properly admit of this scope , as soon as the hint is receiv'd , I think the Alluder may be allow'd to follow the Thread of his own Fancy . If any are Curious to know why I Publish 'em , I willingly confess , that it was not either from the importunity of Friends , nor to Vindicate my self from Errors of Surreptitious Copies , nor indeed to establish any great Reputation ; but for a Reason worth a hundred of 'em , and for the same Reason , if my Bookseller finds encouragement by this first part , the World may expect to be troubled with more ; tho for her own sake , we are at present at such odds , that I would not bestow a stroke gratis upon her , were it only to spit my Venom in Railing . Whenever she proves more Indulgent to me , like a true Poet , I 'll grudge her no Adulation . In the mean time let her Rub on , and so will I as well as I can . Adieu . Books printed for , and sold by Peter Buck , at the sign of the Temple , near the Inner Temple Gate in Fleet-street . 1. REflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning , by Wm. Wotton , B D Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Earl of Nottingham . The second Edition : with large additions With dissertations upon the Epistles of Phalaris , Themistocles , Socrates , Euripides , &c. and Esops Fables . By Dr. ●entley . 2. Incognita , a Novel . 3. Pyrrhus King of Empire , a Tragedy by Mr. Charles Hopkins . 4. Love 's a Jest , a Comedy by Mr. Motteux . 5. Plot and no Plot , a Comedy by Mr. Dennis . 6. The Provok'd Wife , a Comedy by the Author of the Relapse or Virtue in Danger . 7. The Novelty , every Act a Play , by Mr. Motteux , &c. Select Allusions . I. Mart. Epigr. 77. Lib. 8. Liber amicorum Dulcissima , &c. STrephon , thou darling Fav'rite of the Age , Your Looks alone can more than Love engage : Where-e're you come , such Glory you display , That none can less than Veneration pay . Strephon 't is you must to your self be just , And spring fresh Joys to ev'ry varying Gust . Let lusty Bowls foment a sprightly fire , And swell each Vein with vigorous desire : In melting Charms then steep your Am'rous Heat ; Be Strephon still , in all your Actions Great : Thus if you live but half your days design'd , Cast up the summ , you 'll more than total find . II. Hor. Ode 13. Lib. 4. Audivere , Lyce , Dii mea Vota , &c. 1. WEll Peg , at length , the Gods I praise , You 're old and ugly grown ; And yet with painted haggard Face , You brazen all the Town . 2. With some raw Cull , you drink , and toy , And Youthful smiles put on ; Yet faith you 're but the snuff of joy , All but the stench is gone . 3. The God of Love your wrinckles scorns , Your grisly Locks defys , 'T is Molly's Cheeks he now adorns , And Wantons in her Eyes . 4. Where are those Charms now gone astray ? Those former Graces fled ? That stole me from my self away , And fixt me to your Bed ? 5. 'T was then the second place you bore Of all the Harlot Tribe ; Seuky , 't is true , was prais'd by more , But not by more enjoy'd . 6. Seuky , alas ! soon stoop't to Fate , And dy'd in her Vocation : While Peg is left , and grown of late , The sink of all the Nation . III. Hor. Ode 36. Lib. 1. Et Thure & Fidibus juvat , &c. NOw Friends , let jov'al Mirth take place , And sweetness smile on ev'ry Face ; See Bellardin is safe return'd , Whose Absence , we so long have mourn'd : Once more the Noble Youth is come , Richly adorn'd with Honours home . Come then to Lockets let us steer , And give our Joys their full Career ; The largest Draughts shall there declare Which is the Friend that 's most sincere . There let us Drink , till all our Eyes Into one spacious Optick rise ; Then gaze on all his lovely Charms , Pierce him with sight , and crush him in our Arms. IV. Hor. Ode 23. Lib. 1. Vitas hinnuleo me similis Chloe ! WHen Miss was told that she was Mans meat grown , She wou'd not trust herself alone , For fear of being eaten up by Men : But when at length I 'd forc'd the tim'rous Maid , She gently sigh'd , and smiling said , Pray Sir be pleas'd to eat me up again . V. Mart. Epigr. 47. Lib. 10. Vitam quae faciunt Beatiorem , &c. WOuld you know what it is , that can make a man blest ? 'T is to have a rich Dad in good time go to Rest , A good House well contriv'd , in the midst of that Ground , That does with much Wood , and much Water abound . A Mind free and easie , a Body robust , A Table sufficient to please ev'ry Mans gust . Books , and Friends that are choice , and a Cellar well stor'd ; A true satisfaction both in Bed , and at Board : Not too fond of a Life , when his Fate is decreed : This alone is the Man , that is happy indeed . VI. Hor. Ode 27. Lib. 1. Natis in usum laetitiae Scyphis , &c. 1. WHat a Pox is the meaning of all this clutter ? Can't you take off your Cups in quiet ? Let the barbarous Dutch Cods Sawcrawment mutter , And of ev'ry Club make a Riot . 2. Come , for shame let 's no more in such Quarrels embark , But ev'ry Man start a fresh Query , Who met my Lady upon the Stairs in the dark ? And who tickled Doll in the Dairy ? 3. See how Jack hangs his Ears at such Questions as these , What need'st thou be asham'd to hear on 't ? Tho bonny black Bess had a Belly in the case , And honest Church-warden took care on 't . VII . Mart. Epigr. 34 Lib. 6. Basia da nobis Diadumene , pressa , &c PRithee , dear Youth , let me some kisses have : D'y ' ask how many wou'd suffice ? Bid me account the numbers in the Grave , Or tell the Stars that sparkle in the Skies ; Bid me as well repeat Those many anxious Cares that wait Upon the Rich and Great . Ask me how many Wives there are That love Gallants more than their Husbands far . How many Females mount th' Nupt'al Bed Without one tittle of a Maidenhead . If I might have , as I the Blessing prize , Not Time itself shou'd e're confine my Joys . VIII . Hor. Ode 9. Lib. 1. Vides ut alta stet Nive Candidum . 1. SEe , how the Daemons of the Northern Clime Flutter along with Wings of dusky Rimo ; Extending wide their Hands , To setter up the Floods in Crystal bands : Dispencing as they go , Their chilly gifts of unpolluted Snow . 2. If then we 're Wise , let us their Force defy , With towring Flames let 's pierce the curdled Sky . Then shall large Bowls of Wine , Together with the outward Heat combine : 'T is Fire may the Work begin ; But Godlike Wine will warm our Souls within . 3. No tort'ring Cares shall then our Joys infest , No thoughts of what to the wise Fates seems best ; Love shall alone take place ; And well turn'd Measures all our Actions grace . Thus we 'll in Circle move , Love , Drink , and Dance , and then again we'll Love. IX . Mart. Epigr. 5. Lib. 4. Vir bonus , & Pauper , &c. WHat 's this you say ? You 're Honest , Good and Just ? What then the Devil made you come to Town ? None here must Live , that can't betray a Trust , Or at a Great Mans Nod , can't smile , or frown . Those Sheep unpitty'd fall , and well they may , Whose Choice it is , to herd with Beasts of Prey . X. Hor. Ode 8. Lib. 1. Lydia dic per omnes , &c. 1. PRithee , Dear Cocky , let me know The Witchcraft of thy Art : At ev'ry step where-e're you go , Down drops a Conquer'd Heart . 2. Jasper , that stubborn Youth , that long No Female Charms cou'd brook , Sings at your Feet a whining Song , And dyes at ev'ry Look . 3. No more he bristles in the Pit , No more the Scenes he scowrs , No more he vents his pointed Wit Against young Cupid's pow'rs . 3. Let then his frantick Zeal be fed In this Effem'nate sotting ; Give him be sure good store of Thread , And set the Fool a Knotting . XI . Mart. Epigr. 53. Lib. 2. Vis fieri Liber ? Mentiris Maxime , &c. 1. WHat makes you thus still Curse your Fate , And Dam your wretched Stars ? 'T was you your self began the date Of all your racking Cares . 2. T was you forsooth wou'd be a Beau , Nay more , a Treating ●ool : Then ben't surpriz'd , where-e're you go , To hear your self call'd Fool. 3. Had wholesome Landlady gone down , When Hubby was in Bed , You still had been a Spark o' th' Town , And ne're have shrunk your Head. 4. Henceforth for shame no more disburse Amongst the Harlot train ; Some mouldy Hag , with well stuff'd Purse , May set you right again . XII . Mart. Epigr. 64. Lib. 3. Quod spirat tenere Malum , &c. SWeet as the Roses in their morning Dew , Or full as sweet as new blown Jesmin is , Sweet as the Wind whene're it gently blew From fragrant boughs of Aromatick Trees . Sweet as the Incense curling up in smoke , Or as rich Ointment when the Urn is broke : So are thy Joys , tho forc't ; What wou'd they be , Wer 't thou so kind , to make the Offring free ? XIII . Hor. Ode 25. Lib. 1. Parcius junctas quatiunt fenestras , &c. 1. SLeep on , old Nibs , and nothing fear , You 'll unmolested snore ; No more will ever Coach or Chair Come rapping at your Door . 2. Faith Child thou' rt old and fusty grown , Then don't thy self defraud : For you , there 's nothing to be done , Unless you 'll be a Bawd. 3. If still some Sparks of Lust remains , If still you wou'd stand buff ; One third of all your Pimping gains , Will purchase Brawn enough . XIV . Hor. Ode 11. Lib. 1. Tu ne quaesieris , Nefas , &c. 1. COme Ned , what need it trouble thee , or I , What end the Gods will give ? Alas ! there 's forty ways to die , But one alone to live . 2. He only lives that drinks good store of Wine , And clarifies his Brain ; If we our Sences can't refine , Our Reason were in vain . 3. While thus I speak , our Moments glide away , And fleeting Time does pass : Then Drink about , that so we may O'retake it with the Glass . XV. Mart. Epigr. 71. Lib. 4. Quero diu totam , &c. TO each new Face , I swear I am in Love , Then pressing ask t' enjoy , And not an Oath , but does Compassion move , Not one , but does Comply . Then sure for Chastity there 's no regard : Yes , those are Chaste that ne're the Question heard . XVI . Hor. Ode 33. Lib. 1. Albi , ne doleas plus nimio , &c. 1. WHat cursed Love-sick Devil can Poor Strephon so bewitch ? Must he himself thus quite unman , ' Cause Phillis proves a Bitch ? 2. Look but abroad into the World , The case you 'll find the same ; Where-e're the Boy his Darts has hurl'd , 'T is still a cross-grain'd Game . 3. Lovebright with Daelia's Charms does burn , And she for Jasper dies : Jasper you hear at ev'ry turn , Cries dam the Cockatrice . 4. With me young Moll does Coo and Bill , And vows I am her Dear : And yet I can't , with all my skill , From brawling Bess get clear . XVII . Mart. Epigr. 46. Lib. 8. Quanta tua est Probitas , quanta est praestantia formae , &c. CHarming Alexis , is so sweet a Boy , To look on him , is more than to enjoy . No Blushes yet did ever grace , A more bewitching modest Face . Whene're I see the lively Red , His tender Cheeks o'respread , Methinks they do invite me to a Kiss : Yet seem to say , that I must struggle for the Bliss . The Youth that did the Mighty Thund'rer move , Had never Eyes more fraught with Love. He that with Lightning cou'd the World destroy , Stoop'd to the Flames of his dear lovely Boy . How then can wretched I , Whom all the pangs of Love do thus enrage , Forbear to try Whether Alexis won't my panting pains asswage ? XVIII . Hor. Ode 19. Lib. 1. Mater saeva Cupidinum , &c. 1. BE gone Chaste Icy thoughts , be gone , Once more I feel the mighty God-like Guest , Through ev'ry Vein come rushing on , To Triumph in my Breast . 2. From Glaura's Eyes there 's no Reprieve , Such killing Charms do ev'ry Look descry , To stand their force I cannot live , And if not seen , I die . 3. Oh thou impetuous God of Love ! Why from your Transports shou'd I thus delay ? When most you do a Ferment move , Then least can I obey . XIX . Fragment . Petron. Arbitr . Faeda est in Coitu , & brevis Voluptas , &c. TO do the Trick is but a nasty sport , The tickling joy is momentary short : How cursed foolish do our Looks appear , When all our Courage dwindles to a sneer ? Let beastly Goats their nauseous Lusts pursue , More gen'rous Flames are to our Transports due : From harmless Lips we 'll suck Eternal Bliss , And dwell an Age on ev'ry single Kiss . No conscious Guilt will then our Cheeks invade , No sordid fear that we shall be Betray'd : But when from Units , Hundreds do ensue , The last of Thousands still begins anew . XX. Hor. Ode 13. Lib 1. Quum tu Lydia Telephi , &c. 1. FIe Lidy , fie , how can I longer bear Such strange unheard-of things , While I sit by , you curl young Jocky's Hair , And twirl about his Rings . 2. Then I , poor Soul ! into some corner sneak , And there begin to melt : What Heart of harden'd Steel that wou'd not break , If it such Thumpings felt ? 3. Believe me Child , when once the thing is past Jocky will leave you soon ; And this alone you 'll have to say at last , Good faith he was a Loon. 4. Thrice blest are they , who to one point do tend , Not vary as the weather ; But in each others Arms do make an end Of Love and Life together . XXI . Mart. Epigr. 14. Lib. 10. Cedere de nostris nulli te dicis Amicis , &c. WEll Sir , you say that you are still my Friend ; But when I want , the Devil a souse you 'll lend ; Ev'ry sly Rascal can partake your store ; But no relieving of a Friend that 's Poor . Full are your Barns , and richly stockt your Lands , Yet ne're to me one Morsel slipt your hands . In this alone your Friendship me adorns , For your dear sake I wear a pair of Horns . XXII . Hor. Ode 7. Lib. 2. O soepe mecum Tempus in Vltimum , &c. 1. WHat George ! Art thou return'd , old heart of Oak ? Then may the Gods be blest : How oft have we escapt the fatal stroke , That Thousands sent to Rest ? 2. Oft have we felt the various chance of War , Have oft been full , and empty ; Sometimes course Highland Bonnack was our fare , Sometimes all store of Plenty . 3. I han't forgot that Cursed Landen bout , How wet we went to Kennel ; And lay all night , like brace of pickled Trout , Serv'd up without their Fennel . 4. You still pursu'd that rambling , restless Scene , Yet nothing got by Fighting ; On that account I 've still your Comrade been , And got as much by Writing . 5. Come , let 's the Soul of some kind Vintner try , And make him pierce his Terces : Him with your Camps and Sieges you shall ply , And I 'll repeat my Verses . 6. With dint of Argument we 'll drill him on To trust on this occasion ; And make him know , that 't is by Faith alone , He must expect Salvation . XXIII . Anacreon Ode 25. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . 1. NO Rents have I , no well fill'd Barns , Of Trading Stocks no share ; The mighty bulk of my concerns Is Chalkt up at the Bar. 2. And yet when Healths have long gone round , And Drunkenness commences , Strange Raptures in my soul abound , Beyond the reach of sences . 3. 'T is then we sing , and dance by turns , And kindly hug each other , Each with Affection panting burns , For his dear drunken Brother . 4. No sorrow then my Thoughts infest , My Stars I don't upbraid ; But with content , I reel to rest , When once the Reckning's paid . XXIV . Anacreon Ode 2. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . WHen first Nature began to destribute her store , In a flood of her Bounty , her Kindness run o're : Not a Creature but cou'd of some Excellence boast , But the Wisdom of Man was to rule all the Rost : Tho Bulls had their Horns , and Lyons their Claws , Yet the fiercest shou'd stoop to his Reasons great Laws . Then to curb human Pride , in a frolicksome fit , To puzzle Mans Reason , and confound all his Wit , She ordain'd that he must to fost Beauty submit . Thus in vain does Man boast all his Sov'raign sway , At each beck of a Lust he 's oblig'd to obey . XXV . Hor. Ode 5. Lib. 1. Quis multa Gracilis , &c. 1. WHat foolish Youth has Molly now drawn in To be her Cully Mate ? He little thinks that he must purchase sin At half so dear a rate . 2. Alas ! that tender soft bewitching Face Will fiercest frowns put on : That Oily Tongue will Rant and Curse apace , When once his Cash is gone . 3. Each Vein will then with downright Madness smart , And rankle with the Guilt , That he shou'd prostrate both his Purse and Heart , To such a Cursed Jilt . 4. When once I found on what a sordid score She did her Charms display , I vow'd I ne're wou'd steer my Rudder more In such a faithless Sea. FINIS . 
A44464	----	Horace's Art of poetry made English by the Right Honourable the Earl of Roscommon. Ars poetica. English Horace. 1680 Approx. 33 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 21 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-07 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A44464 Wing H2768 ESTC R13604 11835887 ocm 11835887 49758 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A44464) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 49758) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 497:23) Horace's Art of poetry made English by the Right Honourable the Earl of Roscommon. Ars poetica. English Horace. Roscommon, Wentworth Dillon, Earl of, 1633?-1685. Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. [8], 32 p. Printed for Henry Herringman ..., London : 1680. Translation of Ars poetica. "Of this translation, and of the use of poetry, by Edm. Waller Esq.", preliminary p. [5-8]. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng 2003-02 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-03 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-04 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2003-04 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-06 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion HORACE'S Art of Poetry . Made English By the Right Honorable THE EARL of ROSCOMMON . LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman at the Blew Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange . 1680. PREFACE . I Have seldome known a Trick succeed , and will put none upon the Reader , But tell him plainly that I think it could never be more seasonable than now to lay down such Rules , as if they be observ'd , will make Men write more Correctly , and judge more discreetly ; But Horace must be read seriously or not at all , for else the Reader wont be the better for him , and I shall have lost my labour , I have kept as close as I could , both to the Meaning , and the Words of the Author , and done nothing but what I believe he would forgive if he were alive ; And I have often ask'd my self that Question . I know this is a Field Per quem Magnus Equos Arunci flexit Alumnus . But with all the respect due to the name of Ben. Johnson , to which no Man pays more Veneration than I , it cannot be deny'd that the constraint of Rhyme , and a literal Translation ( to which Horace in this Book declares himself an Enemy ) has made him want a Comment in many places . My chief care has been to Write intelligibly , and where the Latin was Obscure , I have added a Line or two to explain it . I am below the Envy of the Criticks , but if I durst , I would begg them to remember , that Horace ow'd his favour and his fortune to the Character given of him by Virgil and Varius , that Fundanius & Pollio are still valued by what Horace says of them , and that in their Golden Age , there was a good Vnderstanding among the Injenious , and those who were the most Esteem'd were the best Natur'd . ROSCOMMON . OF THIS TRANSLATION , And of the Use of Poetry , BY Edm. Waller Esq. ROme was not better by her Horace taught , Than we are here , to comprehend his thought ▪ The Poet writ to Noble Piso , there , A Noble Piso do's instruct us here , Gives us a pattern in his flowing Stile , And with rich Precepts do's oblige our Isle , Brittain , whose Genious is in Verse exprest Bold and sublime , but negligently drest ; Horace will our superfluous Branches prune , Give us new rules , and set our Harp in tune , Direct us how , to back the winged Horse , Favour his flight , and moderate his force ; Tho' Poets may of Inspiration boast . Their Rage ill govern'd , in the Clouds is lost ; He that proportion'd wonders can disclose , At once his Fancy and his Judgment shows ; Chast moral Writing we may learn from hence Neglect of which no wit can recompence ; The Fountain which from Helicon proceeds , That sacred Stream should never water weeds , Nor make the Crop of thorns and thistles grow Which Envy or perverted Nature sow ; Well-sounding Verses are the Charm we use , Heroick thoughts , and vertue to infuse ; Things of deep sence we may in Prose unfold , But they move more , in lofty numbers told ; By the loud Trumpet , which our Courage aids , We learn that sound , as well as sence , persuades , The Muse's friend , unto himself severe , With silent pitty looks on all that Err , But where a brave , a publick Action shines That he rewards with his Immortal Lines ; Whether it be in Counsel or in Fight , His Countrey 's Honour is his chief delight ; Praise of great Acts , he scatters as a seed , Which may the like , in coming Ages breed : Here taught the sate of Verses , always priz'd With admiration , or as much despis'd , Men will be less indulgent to their fauts And patience have to cultivate their thoughts ; Poets lose half the praise they should have got , Could it be known , what they discreetly blot Finding new words , that to the ravish't Ear May like the Language of the Gods appear , Such as of old , wise Bards employ'd , to make Unpollish't men their wild retreats forsake , Law-giving-Heroes , fam'd for taming Bru'ts , And raising Cities with their Charming Lutes , For rudest minds , with Harmony were caught , And civil Life was by the Muses taught , So wandring Bees would perish in the Air , Did not a sound , proportion'd to their Ear , Appease their rage , invite them to the Hive , Unite their force , and teach them how to thrive To rob the flowers , and to forbear the spoil , Preserv'd in Winter by their Summers toyl , They give us food , which may with Nectar Vie , And Wax that do's , the absent Sun , supply . HORACE OF THE Art of Poetry ▪ IF in a Picture ( Piso ) you should see , A handsome Woman with a Fishes Tail , Or a Man's Head upon a Horses Neck , Or Limbs of Beasts of the most different kinds , Cover'd with Feathers of all sorts of Birds , Wou'd you not laugh , and think the Painter mad ? Trust me that Book is as ridiculous , Whose incoherent Stile ( like sick mens Dreams ) Varies all Shapes , and mixes all Extreams , Painters and Poets have been still allow'd , Their Pencils , and their Fancies unconfin'd , This priviledge we freely give and take ; But Nature , and the Common-Laws of Sence , Forbid to reconcile Antipathys , Or make a Snake ingender with a Dove , And hungry Tygers court the tender Lambs ; Some that at first have promis'd mighty things , Applaud themselves , when a few florid Lines Shine through th' insipid dulness of the rest ; Here they describe a Temple , or a Wood , Or Streams that through delightful Medows run , And there the Rainbow , or the rapid Rhyne , But they misplace them all , and crowd them in , And are as much to seek in other things , As he that only can design a Tree , Would be to draw a Shipwrack or a Storm ; When you begin with so much Pomp and Show , Why is the end so little and so low ? Be what you will , so you be still the same . Most Poets fall into the grossest faults , Deluded by a seeming Excellence : By striving to be short , they grow Obscure , And when they would write smoothly they want strength , Their Spirits sink ; while others that affect , A lofty Stile , swell to a Tympany ; Some timerous wretches start at every blast , And fearing Tempests , dare not leave the Shore ; Others in love with wild variety , Draw Boars in Waves , and Dolphins in a Wood ; Thus fear of Erring , joyn'd with want of Skill , Is a most certain way of Erring still . The meanest Workman in the AEmilian Square , May grave the Nails , or imitate the Hair , But cannot finish what he hath begun ; What is there more ridiculous than he ? For one or two good fcatures in a Face Where all the rest are scandalously ill , Make it but more remarkably deform'd . Let Poets march their Subject to their strength , And often try what weight they can support , And what their Shoulders are too weak to bear , After a serious and judicious choice , Method and Eloquence will never fail ; As well the Force as Ornament of Verse , Consists in choosing a fit time for things , And knowing when a Muse should be indulg'd In her full flight , and when she should be curb'd : Words must be chosen , and be plac'd with skill , You gain your point , if your industrious Art Can make unusual words easy and plain , But ( if you write of things Abstruse or New ) Some of your own Inventing may be us'd , ( So it be seldom and discreetly done ) But he that hopes to have new Words allow'd , Must so derive them from the Graecian Spring , As they may seem to flow without constraint ; Can an Impartial Reader discommend In Varus , or in Virgil what he likes ? In Plautus or Caecilius ? Why should I Be envy'd for the little I Invent , When Ennius and Cato's copious Stile Have so enrich'd , and so adorn'd our Tongue ? Men ever had , and ever will have leave , To coin new words well suited to the age : Words are like Leaves , some wither every year , And every year a younger Race succeeds ; Death is a Tribute all things owe to Fate ; The Lucrine Mole ( Caesars stupendous Work ) Protects our Navys from the raging North ; And ( since Cethegus drain'd the Pontin Lake ) We Plow and Reap where former ages row'd . See how the Tyber ( whose licentious Waves So often overflow'd the neighbouring Fields , Now runs a smooth and inoffensive Course , Confin'd by our great Emperors Command ; Yet this and they , and all will be forgot ; Why then should Words challenge Eternity , When greatest Men , and greatest Actions dye ? Use may revive the obsoletest Words , And banish those that now are most in Vogue ; Use is the Judge , the Law , and rule of Spe●ch . Homer first taught the World in Epick Verse ( To write of great Commanders , and of Kings , Elegies were at first design'd for Grief , Though now we use them to express our Joy ) ▪ But to whose Muse we owe that sort of Verse , Is Undecided by the Men of Skill . Rage with Jambick's , arm'd Archilochus ▪ Numbers for Dialogue and action fit And favourites of the Dramatick Muse. Fierce , lofty , Rapid , whose commanding sound Awes the tumultuous noises of the Pit , And whose peculiar Province is the Stage . Gods , Heroes , Conquerers , Olympick Crowns ▪ Loves pleasing Cares , and the free joys of Wine , Are proper subjects for the Lyrick Song . Why is he honour'd with a Poets Name , Who neither knows , nor would observe a Rule ? And chuses to be Ignorant and Proud , Rather than own his Ignorance , and Learn , Let every thing have its due Place and Time. A Comick Subject loves an Humble Verse , Thyestes scorns a low and Comick Stile . Yet Comedy sometimes may raise her voice , And Chremes be allow'd to foam and rail : Tragedians too , lay by their State to grieve ; Peleus and Telephus exil'd and poor , Forget their swelling , and Gygantick Words . He that would have Spectators share his Grief , Must write not only well , but movingly , And raise Mens Passions to what height he will , We Weep and Laugh as we see others doe , He only makes me sad who shews the way , And first is sad himself , then ( Telephus ) I feel the weight of your Calamities , And fancy all your miseries my Own , But if you Act them ill , I sleep or laugh : Your looks must needs alter , as your Subject does From kind to fierce , from wanton to severe , For Nature forms , and softens us within , And writes our fortunes changes in our face . Pleasure enchants , impetuous Rage transports , And grief deiects , and wrings the tortur'd Soul , And these are all interpreted by Speech ; But he whose words and fortunes disagree , Absurd , unpitied growes a publick Jest . Observe the Characters of those that speak , Whether an honest Servant , or a Cheat ▪ Or one whose blood boils in his youthful , veins ▪ Or a grave Matron ▪ or a busie Nurse , Extorting Merchants , carefull Husbandmen , Argives , or Thebans , Asians or Greeks . Follow Report , or feign coherent things , Describe Achilles , as Achilles was , Impatient , rash , inexorable , proud , Scorning all Judges , and all Law but Arms ; Medaea must be all Revenge and Blood , Ino all Tears , Ixion all deceit , Io must wander , and Orestes mourn : If your bold Muse dare tread unbeaten Paths , And bring new Characters upon the stage , Be sure you keep them up to their first height . New Subjects are not easily explain'd , And you had better chuse a well known Theam , Than trust to an Invention of your own ; For what originally others writ , May be so well disguis'd , and so improv'd , That with some Justice it may pass for yours ▪ But then you must not Copy trivial things , Nor word for word too faithfully Translate , Nor ( as some servile Imitators do ) Prescribe at first such strict uneasie rules ▪ As they must ever slavishly observe , Or all the laws of decency renounce : Begin not as th' old Poetaster did , ( Troys famous War , and Priams Fate , I sing ) In what will all this Ostentation end ? The laboring mountain scarce brings forth a mouse ▪ How far is this from the Meonian Stile ? Muse , speak the Man , who since the siege of Troy , So many Towns , such change of Manners saw . One with a flash begins , and ends in smoak , The other out of smoak brings glorious light , And ( without raising Expectation high ) Surprizes us with darling miracles , The bloody Lestrygons inhumane Feasts , With all the Monsters , of the Land and Sea ▪ How Scylla bark'd , and Polyphemus roard : He doth not trouble Us with Leda's Eggs , When he begins to write the Trojan War ; Nor writing the return of Diomed , Go back as far as Meleagers Death : Nothing is idle , each judicious Line Insensibly acquaints Us with the Plot ; He chooses only what he can improve , And Truth and Fiction are so aptly mix'd That all seems Uniform , and of a piece . Now hear what every Auditor expects ; If you intend that he should stay to hear The Epilogue , and see the Curtain fall ; Mind how our tempers alter with our years , And by those Rules form all your Characters : One that hath newly learn'd to speak and go , Loves childish Plays , is soon provok'd and pleas'd , And changes every hour his wavering mind . A Youth that first casts off his Tutors yoke , Loves Horses , Hounds , and Sports , and Exercise , Prone to all Vice , impatient of Reproof , Proud , careless , fond , inconstant , and profuse ▪ Gain and Ambition rule our riper years , And make us Slaves to interest and power ▪ Old Men are only walking Hospitals , Where all defects , and all diseases croud With restless pain , and more tormenting fear , Lazy , morose , full of delays and hopes ▪ Opprest with Riches which they dare not use ; Ill-natur'd censors of the present Age , And fond of all the follies of the past ▪ Thus all the treasure of our flowing Years , Our ebb of life for ever takes away . Boys must not have the ambitious cares of Men ▪ Nor Men the weak anxieties of Age ▪ Some things are acted , others only told ; But what we hear moves less than what we see ▪ Spectators only have their Eyes to trust , But Auditors must trust their Ears and you ; Yet there are things improper for a Scene , Which men of Judgment only will relate ; Maedoea must not draw her murthering knife , And spill her childrens blood upon the Stage , Nor Atreus there his horrid Feast prepare , Cadmus's , and Pr●g●es Metamorphosis ( She to a Swallow turn'd , he to a Snake ) And whatsoever contradicts my Sense , I hate to see , and never can believe , Five Acts are the just measure of a Play ▪ Never presume to make a God appear ▪ But for a business worthy of a God , And in one Scene no more than three should speak . A Chorus should supply what Action wants , And hath a generous and manly part ; Bridles wild rage , loves Rigid honesty , And strict Observance of impartial Laws , Sobriety , security and peace , And begs the Gods to turn blind fortunes Wheel , To raise the Wretched , and pull down the Proud. ( But nothing must be Sung between the Acts ▪ But what some way conduces to the Plot. ) First the shrill sound of a small rural Pipe , ( Not loud like Trumpets , nor adorn'd as now ) Was entertainment for the Infant Stage . And pleas'd the thin and bashfull Audience , Of our well meaning frugal Ancestors ▪ But when our Walls and limits were enlarg'd , And Men ( grown wanton by prosperity ) Studied new Arts of Luxury and Ease , The Verse , the Musick , and the Scene 's improv'd ; For how should ignorance be judge of Wit , Or men ▪ of Sence applaud the Jests of Fools ? Then came rich Cloths and gracefull Action in , Then instruments were taught more moving notes , And Eloquence with all her pomp and charms Foretold as useful and sententious Truths ▪ As those deliver'd by the Delphick God : The first Tragedians , found that serious Stile Too grave for their Uncultivated age , And so brought wild and naked Satyrs in , ( Whose motion , words , and shape were all a Farce ) ( As oft as decency would give them leave ) Because the mad ungovernable Rout , Full of confusion , and the fumes of Wine , Lov'd such Variety and antick Tricks . But then they did not wrong themselves so much , To make a God , a Hero , or a King , ( Stripp'd of his golden Crown and purple Robe ) Descend to a Mechanick Dialect , Nor ( to avoid such meanness ) soaring high With empty sound , and aiery notions fly ; For , Tragedy should blush as much to stoop To the low Mimmick follies of a Farce , As a grave Matron , would to dance with Girles : You must not think that a Satyrick Stile Allows of scandalous and brutish Words , Or the confounding of your Characters . Begin with Truth , then give Invention scope , And if your Stile be natural and smooth , All men will trie , and hope to write as well ; And ( not without much pains ) be undeceiv'd . So much good Method and ▪ Connexion may Improve the common and the plainest things . A Satyr that comes staring from the Woods , Must not at first speak like an Orator ; But , though his language should not be refin'd , ●t must not be Obscene , and Impudent , The better Sort abhors scurrility , And often censures , what the Rabble likes . Unpolish'd Verses pass with many Men , And Rome is too Indulgent in that Point ; But then , to write at a loose rambling rate , In hope the World will wink at all our faults ▪ Is such a rash , ill-grounded confidence , As men may pardon , but will never praise ▪ Consider well the Greek Originals , Read them by day , and think of them by night ; But Plautus was admir'd in former time . With too much patience ( not to call it worse ) Hi● harsh , unequal Verse , was Musick then , And Rudeness had the Priviledge of Wit : When Thespis first expos'd the Tragick Muse , Rude were the Actors , and a Cart the Scene , Where ghastly faces stain'd with lees of Wine , Frighted the Children , and amus'd the Croud ; This AEschilus ( with indignation ) saw , And built a Stage , found out a decent dress , Brought Vizards in ( a Civiler disguise ) And taught men how to speak , and how to Act ; Next Comedy appear'd with great applause , Till her licentious , and abusive Tongue , Wakened the Magistrates Coercive power , And forc'd it to suppress her Insolence ; Our Writers have attempted every way , And they deserve our praise , whose daring Muse , Disdain'd to be beholden to the Greeks , And found fit Subjects for her Verse at home . Nor should we be less famous for our Wit , Then for the force of our Victorious Arms ; But that the time and care , that are requir'd To overlook , and file , and polish well , Fright Poets from that necessary Toyl . Democritus was so in love with wit , And some Mens Natural impulse to write , That he despis'd the help of Art and Rules , And thought none Poets till their Brains were crack'd ; And this hath so Intoxicated some That ( to appear incorrigibly mad ) They cleanliness and Company renounce ; For Lunacy beyond the Cure of art , With a long Beard , and Ten long dirty Nails , Pass currant for Apollo's Livery . O my unhappy Stars ! If in the Spring , Some Physick had not cur'd me of the spleen , None would have writ with more success than I ; But I am satisfied to keep my sense , And only serve to whet that Wit in you , To which I willingly resign my claim . Yet without writing I may teach to write , Tell what the duty of a Poet is ; Wherein his Wealth and Ornament consist , And how he may be form'd , and how improv'd , What 's fit , what not , what excellent or ill , Sound judgment is the ground of Writing well : And when Philosophy directs your choice To proper Subjects rightly understood , Words from your Pen will naturally flow ; He only gives the proper Characters , Who knows the duty of all Ranks of Men , And what we owe to Countrey , Parents , Friends , How Judges , and how Senators should act , And what becomes a General to do ; Those are the likest Copies which are drawn , By the Original of human life . Sometimes in rough and undigested Plays We meet with such a lucky Character , As being humor'd right and well persu'd , Succeeds much better , than the shallow Verse , And chiming Trifles , of more studious Pens ; Greece had a Genious , Greece had Eloquence , For her ambition and her end was Fame ; Our Roman Youth is bred another way , And taught no arts but those of Usury ; And the glad Father glories in his Child , When he can subdivide a Fraction : Can Souls , who by their Parents from their birth Have been devoted thus to rust and gain , Be capable of high and generous thoughts ? Can Verses writ by such an Author live ? But you ( brave Youth ) wise Numa's worthy Heir , Remember of what weight your Judgment is , And never venture to commend a Book , That has not pass'd all Judges and all Tests . A Poet should instruct , or please , or both ; Let all your precepts be succinct and clear , That ready wits may comprehend them soon , And faithfull memories retain them long ; For superfluities are soon forgot . Never be so conceited of your Parts , To think you may persuade us what you please , Or venture to bring in a Child alive , That Canibals have murther'd and devour'd ; Old age explodes all but Morality ; Austerity offends aspiring Youths , But he that joyns instructions with delight , Profit with pleasure , carries all the Votes ; These are the Volumes that enrich the Shops , These pass with admiration through the World , And bring their Author an Eternal fame . Be not too rigidly Censorious , A string may jarr in the best Masters hand , And the most skilfull Archer miss his aim ; But in a Poem elegantly writ , I will not quarrel with a slight mistake , Such as our Natures frailty may excuse ; But he that hath been often told his fault , And still persists , is as impertinent , As a Musician that will always play , And yet is always out at the same Note ; When such a positive abandon'd Fopp , ( Among his numerous Absurdities ) Stumbles upon some tolerable Lines , I fret to see them in such company , And wonder by what Magick they came there . But in long Works , Sleep will sometimes surprize , Homer himself hath been observ'd to nodd . Poems ( like Pictures ) are of different Sorts , Some better at a distance , others near , Some love the dark , some chuse the clearest light , And boldly challenge the most piercing Eye , Some please for once , some will for ever please ; But Piso ( tho your own Experience , Join'd with your Fathers precepts make you wise ) Remember this as an important truth ; Some things admit of Mediocrity , A Counsellor or Pleader at the Bar , May want Messalas powerfull Eloquence , Or be less read than deep Cassellius ; Yet this indifferent Lawyer is esteem'd ; But no authority of Gods nor Men , Allow of any mean in Poesie . As an ill consort , and a course perfume , Disgrace the Delicacy of a Feast , And might with more discretion have been spar'd , So Poesie , whose end is to delight , Admits of no Degrees , but must be still , Sublimely good , or despicably ill . In other things men have some reason left ; And one that cannot Dance , or Fence , or Run ; Despairing of success , forbears to Try ; But all ( without consideration ) write ; Some thinking that th' omnipotence of Wealth Can turn them into Poets when they please . But Piso , you are of too quick a sight Not to discern which way your Talent lies , Or vainly struggle with your Genius ; Yet if it ever be your fate to Write , Let your Productions pass the strictest Hands , Mine and your Fathers , and not see the light , Till time and care have ripned every Line . What you keep by you , you may change , & mend , But words once spoke can never be recall'd . Orpheus inspir'd by more than humane power , Did not ( as Poets feign ) tame savage Beasts , But Men as lawless , and as wild as they , And first disuaded them from rage and bloud ; Thus when Amphion built the Theban Wall , They feign'd the Stones obey'd his Magick Lute ; Poets the first Instructers of Mankind , Brought all things to their proper , native Use ; Some they appropriated to the Gods , And some to publick , some to private ends : Promiscuous love by marriage was restrain'd Cities were built , and usefull Laws were made ; So ancient is the pedigree of Verse , And so divine a Poets function . Then Homer's and Tyrtaeus martial Muse , Waken'd the World , and sounded loud Alarms ▪ To Verse we owe the Sacred Oracles , And our best Precepts of Morality ; Some have by Verse obtain'd the love of Kings , ( Who , with the Muses , ease their wearied minds ) Then blush not Noble Piso to protect , What Gods inspire , and Kings delight to hear . Some think that Poets may be form'd by Art , Others maintain , that Nature makes them so ; I neither see what Art without a vein , Nor wit without the help of art can do , But mutually they need each others aid . He that intends to gain th' Olympick Prize , Must use himself to hunger heat , and cold , Take leave of Wine , and the soft joys of Love ; And no Musician dares pretend to skill , Without a great Expence of time and pains ; But every little busie Scribler now Swells with the praises which he gives himself ; And taking Sanctuary in the Croud , Brags of his impudence , and scorns to mend ▪ A wealthy Poet , takes more pains to hire , A flatring Audience , than poor Tradesmen do To persuade Customers to buy their goods . T is hard to find a Man of great Estate , That can distinguish flatterers from Friends . Never delude your self , nor read your Book Before a brib'd and fawning Auditor ; For hee 'l commend and feign an Extasie , Grow pale or weep , do any thing to please ; True friends appear less mov'd than Counterfeit ; As men that truly grieve at Funerals , Are not so loud , as those that cry for hire ; Wise were the Kings , who never chose a Friend Till with full Cups they had unmask'd his Soul , And seen the bottom of his deepest thoughts ; You cannot arm your self with too much care Against the smiles of a designing Knave . Quintilius ( if his advice were ask'd ) Would freely tell you what you should correct , Or ( if you could not ) bid you blot it out , And with more care supply the vacancy ; But if he found you fond , and obstinate ( And apter to defend than mend your faults ) With silenc leave you to admire your self , And without Rival hugg your darling Book . The prudent care of an Impartial friend , Will give you notice of each idle Line , Shew what sounds harsh , & what wants ornament , Or where it is too lavishly bestowed ; Make you explain all that he finds Obscure , And with a strict Enquiry mark your faults ; Nor for these trifles fear to loose your love ; Those things , which now seem frivolous , & slight , Will be of serious consequence to you , When they have made you once Ridiculous . A Mad Dogs foam , the infection of the Plague , And all the Judgments of the angry Gods , We are not all more heedfully to shun , Then Poetasters in their raging fits , Follow'd and pointed at by Fools and Boys ; But dreaded and proscrib'd by Men of sense : If ( in the Raving of a frantick Muse ) And minding more his Verses than his Way , Any of these should drop into a Well , Tho he might burst his lungs to call for help , No Creature would assist or ▪ pitty him , But seem to think he fell on purpose in . Hear how an old Sicilian Poet died ; Empedocles , mad to be thought a God , In a cold fit leap'd into AEtna's flames . Give Poets leave to make themselves away , Why should it be a greater sin to kill , Then to keep Men alive against their will ? Nor was this chance ; But a deliberate choice ; For if Empedocles were now reviv'd , He would be at his Frolick once again , And his pretensions to Divinity : T is hard to say whether for Sacrilege Or Incest , or some more unhear'd of Crime The Rhyming Fiend is sent into these Men , But they are all most visibly possest , And like a baited Bear , when he breaks loose , Without distinction seize on all they meet ; None ever scap'd that came within their reach , Sticking like Leaches till they burst with blood , Without remorse insatiably they read , And never leave till they have read Men dead . FINIS . 
A45579	----	A banquet of essayes, fetcht out of famous Owens confectionary, disht out, and served up at the table of Mecoenas by Henry Harflete ... Epigrammata Horace. English. Selections. 1653 Harflete, Henry, fl. 1653. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A45579 of text R3351 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing H766). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 102 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 47 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A45579 Wing H766 ESTC R3351 12185778 ocm 12185778 55783 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A45579) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 55783) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 868:13) A banquet of essayes, fetcht out of famous Owens confectionary, disht out, and served up at the table of Mecoenas by Henry Harflete ... Epigrammata Horace. English. Selections. 1653 Harflete, Henry, fl. 1653. Owen, John, 1560?-1622. Horace. [6], 86 p. Printed by T.R. & E.M. : And are to be sold by Joseph Barker ..., London : 1653. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. "Consists of seven essays on one of Owen's epigrams, in which occur frequent translations in verse from Horace, Owen, &c." Dict. Nat. Biog. eng English essays -- Early works to 1800. Epigrams, English. A45579 R3351 (Wing H766). civilwar no A banquet of essayes, fetcht out of famous Owens confectionary, disht out, and serv'd up at the table of Mecoenas. By Henry Harflete, someti Harflete, Henry 1653 17493 133 185 0 0 1 0 188 F The rate of 188 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2003-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-05 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2004-09 Melanie Sanders Sampled and proofread 2004-09 Melanie Sanders Text and markup reviewed and edited 2004-10 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A BANQUET OF Essayes , Fetcht out of Famous OWENS CONFECTIONARY , Disht out , and serv'd up at the TABLE OF MECOENAS . By HENRY HARFLETE , sometime of Grayes-Inne , Gent. London , Printed by T. R. & E. M. and are to be sold by Joseph Barber , at the signe of the Lambe in the New-buildings in Pauls Church-yard . 1653. To the Right WORSHIPFUL , And my much honoured Friend & Kinsman , SIR , CHRISTOPHER HARFLETE , Knight . Sir , YOur former favours oblige me to a votal , if not total requital , at least to an acknowledgement , though 't be but in this slight Commemoration , and so near alliance may command this Dedication . I might have elected some titular Protector to cherish this weak Infant of my Braine ; but I content my self with an inferiour choise , desiring your self my tutelar Patron . Accept of these my poor labours , which were the selected object of my Meditations , on purpose to keep me from idlenesse , the mother of all mischief . That excellent saying of St Hierome egg'd me on to these Meditations : A liquid operis facito , ut te Diabolus inveniat occupatum ; non enim facilè capitur à Diabolo , qui bonovacat exercitio : Be alwayes doing something , that so the Devil may finde thee imployed ; for he is not easily caught in the Devils snare , who is well busied . Sir , were there not Lectores who be Lictores , or could all my Readers be free from the aspersion of critically censorious , I could well afford to imitate my Author ; Commend my book to the Reader , and my self to you : however let it be so , I'l● expose my selfe to charitable judgements , and venture it . Inveniat noster Patronum ut ubique libellus , Librum Lectori dedico , mèque tibi . Your Worships affectionate Friend and Kinsman to commend , HENRY HARFLETE . A BANQUET OF Essayes : Upon these verses . Ex. lib. 1. Ep. 2. Qui legis ista , tuam reprchendo ; si mea laudas . Omnia , stultitiam : sic nihil , invidiam . ESSAY . I. Of Reading , Understanding and Practising . [ Qui legis . ] THE World is now so laden and larded with Learning , as that it s not only fatigated with the burden of it ; but also its fascinated ( shall I say fatuated ) with such a supposed felicity , as that it loathes the life of it too ▪ that 's action . Reading is like the body , Understanding like the apparel , and Practising like the soule . The body of reading being mortal , cannot but quickly meet with a dissolution , did not the soule of Practice animate it , the apparel of the Understanding keeping it from the frigid , and defending it from the torrid aire ; that from obscuration , this from oblatration . For Writings might quickly espy a Momus , did not the backbiter eye an understanding MECOENAS , ready to defend the Authors quarrel , forcing him to praise , if not practise what he reads , though he never read to praise or practise , but to traduce . [ Qui legis . ] Well may the World be reported Spherical , in that it 's vertical , even so cloyed with a number of giddy-headed readers , as that it surfets with their issue , doctrine ; so that they loath that which they should love , Preaching . Ever since our Bacchanalian tospots have scorned our Ecclesiastical despots , obliging their devotion to the temple of Baccus , the Pulpit with them hath been counted a reproach : and no marvel ; for they have turned the current of their devotion another way making their belly their god ; the Drawer or Tapster , their Priest ; the Barre , his Pulpit ; the Taverne or Ale-house , their Temple ; their Wine or Ale , their Spirit ; their Stomack , their Altar ; their several sorts of Drinks , their Graces ; their belchings or spewings ; their prophecies or knowledge ; and the best book they delight to lay open before them to read in , is their Hostesse or her fine Daughter . [ Qui legis . ] Time was , when the Church had many Practisers , but few Readers ; time is , that a contradictory position being laid in the balance of the Sanctuary makes up this proposition , That this now Church hath many Readers , few Practisers . The Primitive Catec●umenists heard , and practised ; but our Moderne Mythologists hear and read , but practise not ▪ The Church in her Infant-cradle might glory in the number of her Rockers ( if I may so terme them , ) but in this her Maturity she may well condole the plenty of her lazy rackers ▪ and who be they ? but her learned Readers The World now doth boast in Knowledge , and scornes to take the paines to make a double journey to the Temple on the Sabbath , unlesse it be either for customes sake , or as the women came to the Theater , according to the Poet , Spectatum veniunt , veniunt spectentur ut ipsae . So these come to be seers , not to hear their Seer , or perchance to be seen , rather then to be taught ; and why ? either 1. Self-conceit perswades them , that they know already as much as the Preacher can tell them ; or 2. Else blinde devotion strikes in them this opinion , that they have done God good service to visite his Temple once a day ; or 3. Their learned ignorance would conceive that for an undeniable Orthodox , which graver judgements have censured for a palpable Paradox , even that Reading is better then preaching . What though St. Augustine was converted by reading some part of the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul to the Romanes ? Wilt thou therefore conclude that the word read doth out-poise the word Preached in the balance of profit ? Thou readest the proverb , and believest it , that Una hirundo non facit ver : One swallow makes not Summer : In all this conceive me aright , though I commend Preaching , yet I condemne not Reading ; for both be excellent . It is a rule in Rhetorick given from that great Oratour Cicero concerning comparisons , that Necesse non est in rebus comparandis , ut alteram vituperes si alteram laudes . The law of reason cannot impose this necessity upon comparisons , that the praising of one part should derogate any thing from the worth of the other . N●y let me ground this position upon the rock of truth fetcht out of the quarry of great St. Chrysostome , Negligentia legendo eget diligentià praedicando ; because the Reader is negligent he wants the Preachers diligence . I cannot but admire at the foolishnesse of some in the managing of their states , who neglect Preaching , and buy damnation with Reading : For what is it available for a man to be accounted learned and judicious , and then after death go to hell for want of Practice ? He that reads and understands not , is like the Parrot , who may utter a perfect Orthology , yet is ignorant of the true A●tiology , or true meaning of the words spoken ; and surely no wiser is that man , qui legit & non intelligit , who reads and understands not : would you spell a reason for it , then put them two together , and you have it , legere & non intelligere est negligere : To read but not with the intellec● , is to neglect : But he that understands and practiseth not , is like that proud Silke-worme , who enrobes himself in gorgeous array , rather to attract personall reverence , and worldy esteem , then to protect his naked corps from the fury of the frigid element , Hic seipsum vestit , ut sciatur : ille legit , ut tantum sciat & sciatur . The one is gorgiously invested , that he may be known ; the other reads only to know , and that 's curiosity , and that for knowing he may be known , and that 's vanity ; his aime is to informe his minde , not to reforme his manners . Science is a labour , to the accomplishment of which both the Theorick and Practick must ( like Hippocrates's twins ) both hand and heart , both head and bed together : This Theoretical labour may be thus bi-membred , in laborem ' Disciplinae & exercitii . 1. Disciplinae , ut quae nescit , discat . 2. Exercitii , ut quae didicit , a ● usum ducat : There is the labour of , 1. Discipline ; and 2. Exercise . 1. Of Discipline , that he may learne what he knowes not ; and of , 2. Exercise , that he may practise what he hath learned . This World is a Sea , upon which the theoretical reader floates in the pinnace of self-opinionated pride , driven with the winde of vaine-glory ; in which the Practical understander is surely drowned : for he never returned home , since he hoisted saile for New-England : Mistake me not ! I know there be many true and zealous Professours in England . who have not in these corrupted times bowed the knee to Baal ; but I speak this as bewailing the losse and misle of those Pastors and zealous Professours , who ( I know whilest they lived amongst us ) were both Luces and Duces , pure lights , and sure guides ; lights for Discipline , guides for Practice , ESSAY . II. Of Bookes . Qui legis ista . ] GOod Bookes should be the Object of every good mans eye : idle and lascivious pamphlets are correspondent to the life of idle Christians : For those Books which handle a subject , whose doctrine is far remote from the use and practice of a Christian life , are a true token of an idle Author , and the readers of them are like to common ●idlers , who undertake the use of an Instrument , onley to keep them from a trade more laborious and profitable ; laborious in the Work , profitable to the Workers . [ Ista . ] The Printers Presse is like unto the World , where are bad men as well as good ? And Invenies paucot hîc , ut in orbe , bonos . Where I finde some good Books , many bad ; what do I then ? I do ( like good men in chusing their companions ) elect the good , reject the bad : I use that , refuse this . Good consorts are worth my acquaintance , and good Books my perusall ; my paines may countervaile my profit , if I read them , through-read them , re-read them . Doth a man delight in reading vicious and lascivious Authors ? I wrong him not if I stile him an Astronomer , who chiefly sixeth the eye of his meditation upon the wandring Venerean Planet ; but now adayes a man may easily finde out the greatest Students in this science . Young men and maides are growne studious Scholars in LOVES Schoole : Amorous pamphlets make up their Library , who having their Love-songs ad unguem , long to be graduates in the University of Ven●● ; they account themselves already Masters in this Art in actu designato , and think long till they be so in actu exercito ; nothing now in their judgements is wanting to compleat their degree , but a Pone manum in manum maritae . The reading of such Authors is the true embleam of their vicious mindes . It is a received opinion , that Vultus est index animi : The countenance is the discoverer of the minde ; and it is as true , that the reading of Books may anatomize the heart ; Lascivious Books may call their Readers lascivious without the least aspersion of a wrong . Doth a man fixe the heart of his delight upon good and godly Bookes , and make them the delight of his heart , it is an invincible argument of a vertuous minde . An humble and a lowly heart loves Books which teach the lesson of humility ; and by Augustines leave a man may , ( nay if he do not first ) profit legendo , by reading , he can scarce gaine any thing cogitando , by meditating ; and though there be profit to be sucked out of both , yet I must confesse , that the greater fruit is gathered from the Tree of contemplation , though not alwayes the fairer . Rachel was more faire then Leah , but yet ( to make some amends , ) Leah was more fertil then Rachel . Contemplation hath a two-fold accesse : unus in intellectu , alter in affectu : unus in lumine , alter in favore : unus in acquisitione , alter in devotione : The one in the intellect , the other in the affect . The order of Nature●●lls up the Intellect in the first place : for a man can never love that which he know●s not , and how comes he by the knowledge of it ? but by one of these three meanes , either by 1. Hearing , 2. Seeing , or 3. Reading . Shall I go yet further , and perswade you that Reading is a kinde of Meditation ? if not I , then Hugo , who saith that there be three kindes of Meditations , viz. in 1. Creaturis . 2. Scripturis . 3. Moribus . Primum surgit ex admiratione . Secundum lectione . ●ertium circum spectione . Admiratio generat quaestionem , quaestio in●estigationem , investigatio inventi●nem . Lectio ad cognoseendam verit atemmateriam ministrat , meditatio coap●at , oratio sublevat , operatio componit , & contemplatio in ista exuliat . Thus Hugo . A Meditation in the Creatures . Scriptures . Manners . Shall I call these three , three severall Books , in which a man may read Heaven ? The first ariseth from Admiration , whose posterity proclaimes her fruitful ; for Admiration begets a question ; and asking , seeking ; and seeking a finding . The second ariseth from Reading , and that 's not steril too : for it is a trusty guide to bring us to the knowledge of the truth . The third ariseth from Circumspection , and that 's fruitlesse neither : for it plaies two wayes in and out ; Discurrit intùs & foràs intùs ad conscientiam , foràs ad famam ; that is , in upon the conscience , out upon the good name of a man . Of all companions Books be the secretest , there a man may solace himselfe , and yet heares nothing but the Echo of his own words . Of all Glasses Books be the best ; for they being inspective , are both 1. Prospective , 2. Reflective , & 3. Illuminative . Three chief uses for Glasses . First Prospective , making things afarre off , seem near at hand ; and therefore we say , that a learned man sees farther then an ignorant ; sees farther , though not oculo {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , though not with the eye of his body , yet with the eye of his minde : so he sees farther , because he knowes more . Secondly , Reflective ; were not the Reader blear-ey'd he might quickly espy the lineament of his own soul in these Glasses by reflection ; let him be but intentive in reading , and he may quickly collect the disposition of his own soule , and the disease being once known puts the patient in hope of a cure . In these Glasses the proud dame may see her painted face , and supersficialized soule ; her envious eye , and contumelious tongue ; her impudent fore-head , and immodest countenance . In these Glasses the Altar-Priest enrobed in his vestry vestments may see is own picture , 2 Kings 10. there he may see the worshippers of Baal attired in Baals vestments , and at last their idolatrous vestments ( by the command of Jehu ) hewn off their shoulders with the edge of the sword . In these Glasses the Persecutor may see the Whore of Babylon surfeited with the blood of the Saints , Rev. 17. 6. and at length the righteous GOD avenging the blood of his servants at her hand , Rev. 19. 2. In a word , in these Glasses every sinful man may see the Anatomy of his own sinful soul , and GODS definitive judgement for the same without timely repentance , Rev. 21. 8. Thirdly , Illuminative . Good Books ( like Glasses ) do 1. Enlighten the house of the heart , and keep out the 2. Dust of Pride and Hypocrise ▪ 3. Winde of vain-glory . Qui legis ista . ] The Printers Presse is like unto a Garden , where are stinking weeds , as well as sweet-smelling flowers ; what do I then ? I do ( like fine-handed dames ) pick up the flowers , kick at the weeds . I grace my hand with the one ; but I can scarce afford , that my eye or foot should grace the other ; mine eye by a a speculation , or my foot by an inculcation . ESSAY . III. Of Application . Qui legis ista , tuam . ] APplication is the life of Doctrine : It is a strong perswasion to conversion . It was a Symbole of Aurelius Numerianus , Esto quod audis , Be what you hear . To which I may adde , Esto quod legis ; Be what thou readest : or lead thy life according to that rule given in thy Book-Doctrine , and thou wilt ( shall I say work a miracle ? ) put a living soul into a dead body , revive the dead letter by the spirit of Application . In vain is Reprehension without Application ; how fitly have the Greeks fitted it , calling it {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} from {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} apto , to fit ; for harmony is a sweet and pleasant Musick , consisting of many notes , yet none discord , but sweetly close together . If the Reader or Hearer apply not that which is read or heard by a religious life and conversation , there is a jarre or discord between the Confuter and Confuted , who denies the truth of the Doctrine in his irreligious practice ; how sweetly then do the Writer and Reader , Preacher and Hearer accord , when the work of the one attends the word or pen of the other , when Obedience makes the Epilogue to the Writers Catalogue , when the one gives a Practical Amen to the others Theoreticall Doctrine ? [ Tuam . ] Application is a kinde of Adaptation , and the Doctrine must be fitted for Application , as Taylors fit apparel for the body , neither too wide nor too strait ; if it be too wide , it may draw the Reader or Hearer to a presumption or obduration ; if it be too strait , it may perswade him to desparation . [ Tuam . ] Men write , because men are vicious , and vicious men should read to mend , that 's the end of writing and reading too ; but we do like Taylors , we are mending all the week , all the yeare , yea all our lives long , and yet not mended . We sit mending upon the Sh●p-board of this World , and forget that Hell is so near us , as under the Board ; every time we commit a sinne , we throw a shred to Hell . Our good actions are forgotten , assoon as gotten . The Worldling makes a journey to Church every Sabbath day , and sometimes heares the Word with the ●ares of attention , but could never ●inde the heart of retention ; the Preacher may reply , but he never intends to apply : and sometimes Gods House may be a continent for his body , but his Counting-house shall be a repository for his minde ; and so leaves his Religion where he found it ; so that he ties Religion altogether to time and place , nay to his Holy-day-apparel too ; he s●r●ps himself of his Holy-day-cloathes , and 〈◊〉 his Soul of devotion altogether . Thus runs he posting to his native rest , Forgets the Word , and takes it for a jest ▪ ESSAY . V. Of Reprehension . Qui legis ista , tuam reprehendo . ] ETymologies may sometimes instruct , and without offence of me essayed to initiate an Essay of Reprehension . The Latines call it Reprehensio , from re and prehensio , a taking or pulcking back . Experience daily objects to our sight the untoward carriage of the home-bred or countrey-horse ; who being altogether in the extreames , is either too dull and slow , or too quick and hasty ; either too forward , or too backward ; wherefore his Rider provides him both calcar and fraenum , a spurre and a bridle ; a spurre to prick him forward , when he is too backward ; and a bridle to keep him back , when he is too forward ▪ Me thinks the refractory will of man is like this untoward Horse , who wants the spurre of exhortation to prick him forward to the performance of good , when he is dull and defective , and the bridle of dehortation or reprehension to refraine his forwardnesse , when he runnes head-long into exorbitant courses . [ — Reprehendo . — ] The Greeks likewise challenge an instruction by an Etymon in their verbal significations . Reprehension by them is expressed by three significant words . Viz. 1. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . 2. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . 3. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . 1. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , ] or else {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , which word signifies , plaga , ictus , or vul●●is , a wound or stroke . 'T is true in●eed , that the words of the reproover must be cutting to make them curing : {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} is derived from {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} super , and {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} percussio , a wounding or striking upon the conscience . The powerful words of some Ministers have stricken such strange effects into the consciences of some weak Christians , as that they have been no small provocation to despaire ; and desperation must have some pleasing object , though it work to the confusion of the weak subject , unlesse the power of Gods hand in his Majesty prevent the intended mischief of Satans head in his malice . 2. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , ] which word signifies querimonia , expostulatio , or accusatio , a complaint , expostulation , or accusation , uttered in some querimonious dialect . The Latine may enable the word to beare the burden of this sense ; expressing it to be the same with accusare , and incusare making some difference in respect of the personall object of reprehension ( onely ) according to the old verses of that ancient Grammarian , JOHANNES 〈◊〉 GARLANDIA . Dicitur accusans aequales at que minore● Dicitur incusans majores & meliores . The Commentary expounds it thus , accusare est culpare , incusare est reprehendere ; we accuse , and thereby blame our equals and inferiours ; we incuse , and thereby reprehend the crimes and faules of our superiours , and those who are of a greater estate and higher degree : so that the Commenter himself would acknowledge some difference between the two words , à parte praepositionis , which is pars secundaria , but none at all à parte verbi , which is pars principalis ; they be the very words of the Commenter . The reall object then of a reprehensory complaint or accusation , is crimen , a fault or offence , and the personal object is reus , or the party offending , who is the party transgressing , or the party accused , to whom must be added a third person , and that 's the person offended . Now the offence or sin being committed against God , the reprover by his reproof doth tacitely complain of the reprehended to God , the reproved therefore without amendment , is inexcusable . In the reprehensions of some vices , some have been facetious , where they might have been more querulous , bewailing the unhappy estate of those , who have been so corrupted , that they need correption ; but indeed such is the ridiculous nature of sin , as that derision best fits the seat of conviction . The Devil sports withhat which man acts with pleasure ; for when man sins , the Devil sings . 3. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , ] from {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , which signifies to dispraise , blame , or reproach , as well as to reprehend . 〈◊〉 you will say , s Re roof a Re●roach ? I answer , It is so effective , non entitativè : eff●ctively , because it reproves sin , whose effect is reproach ; not entitat vely in it self ; for it reproaches not the reproved , but labours to abrogate the reproveds reproach . Thu for the Etymology : the Tropology must follow , shewing the true nature of this Psogology . — Reprehendo . — The meanest apprehension can never be expert in the right learning of Reprehension . Humane discretion blushes not to acknowledge it a great difficulty , to know how to reprehend aright . Ignorance may be a proud controuler , but never a good counsellour ; yet reproof is opus citiùs notum quàm factum , a work sooner known then done : so defective is the nature of man in this duty , if known . Reprehension therefore must have a 1. Guide , and 2. Companion . 1. A Guide , that 's discretion . 2. A Companion , that 's meeknesse of spirit . First , it must have a guide , lest it run into errour ; discre●ion must moderate reprehension : and it so orders it , that it be uttered in amor , not rancor , in love , not in malice . Malitious enmity must not reveale that which Christian amity obligeth to conceale . Malice was ever a good informer , but ever a bad reformer . Love is a great mover , she commonly speaks and speeds to effect . Love must rub up the conscience of the Delinquent , touch it to the quick ; it may be quickened by being twitted ; but care must be had , lest haste makes waste ; lest the reprover puts unguem in ulcere , ( in Plautus his phrase ) his singer into the sore , which he doth when he makes a matter worse , which is bad enough already ; which he doth either by a long and circumstantiall recapitulation of that which should be silenced , which is against the law of charity , or else by an addition of some new matter , which is against the rule of verity , which commands a man to speak nothing but the truth . Discretion likewise brings the reprover to a fit time and place , when and where conveniently to reprove the offender ; it must be no street-check , nor a high-way-broile . Rash in discretion should not call a whole heap of neighbours to be eare-witnesses to that which should be private . A temperate and timely ●aciturnity is equivalent to an oration , which tacitely implies , that unseasonable silence is consonant to ( if not wore then ) a mute , and sometimes connivency may match with religious policy ; but if this connivence become habituall ▪ it is as bad as indulgence , worse then caecity . Not to reprove , is to approve , ( yea to partake ) of the others enormity ; permittere malum , est admittere , a continual permitting of sin is no better then a consenting to it . Discretion likewise brings reproof to be acquainted with a brevity . A short speech commends the action , prolix and impertinent is the livery of a babler . When Philip of Macedon wrote to them of Lyconia , that if he entred their countrey , he would utterly overthrow them ; he had a short answer returned to him in this one word , if ; briefly reproving his bold supposition of victory depending upon the incertainty of his entry . Secondly , Reprehension must have a companion , and that 's meeknesse of spirit . It must be mitis , non aspera , affable ▪ not satyrical . Envy and Fury must not transport the reprover beyond the bounds of discretion , lest he turne mel amoris into fel amaroris , the honey of love into the gall of bitternesse ; his words may be sharpe , yet pleasant . Discretion must be involved in a tartnes , lest he become corrosor rather then corrector , a batterer not betterer by his words ; he must not be like Herodotus , who never spake well to any nor of any ; he must beno clamorous Stentor , reproving with such eager sierceness and impetuous violence , as that there is omnis correptio , nulla consolatio ; omnis clamor , nullus amor : all correction , no consolation ; all speech , but no love in it , whose behaviour bewrayes the want of charity , having zeale without knowledge , or knowledge without discretion . Reviling and railing must not be mistook for refuting . Sharp rebukes must be ushered by discretion . Entreaties , ( which in their own nature amount to milde checks , ) suite best to inferiority : that must be their subject , whose object must challenge authority . My close shall be by application to the married . Gentle entreaties must be the wives best oratory instead of sharp rebukes , sweetly closing them to a delinquent husbands heart , with so wise an application , as that no glozing flattery may seem to be inveloped in a kinde supplication . An exhortative invasion may compell an errours evasion , then she may gaine the praise , and he the profit : But if sometimes the heat of passion usher an invective , let an instructive be its attendant , that may somewhat allay the heat , though not altogether abolish the hate . The reprover must not movere , when monere , not move to displeasure , when monish to profit , therefore to prevent this danger , some sweet instruction should tread upon the heeles of a sharp Reprehension . In a word , Let every thing be done decently and in order , saith Paul . Now a Chr●stian is said to do a thing decently and in order , when he doth a Christian work in such sort as becomes a Christian , and after such a mnaner as rightly corresponds to such a Christian act or duty ; so reproof is done decently , when done 1. Discree●ly . 2. Meekly . And in order , when it is done according to our Saviours order and direction for brotherly correction ; so that it must have a guide to usher it , and a companion to uphold it , lest it turne into furious malice , or into invious folly . Whatsoever a man doth , being guided by discretion , he doth it not rashly , but with mature deliberation and serious preconsideration . Reprehension then must have a discreet guide , lest it run into folly ; and a meek companion , lest it gad to fury . ESSAY . V. Of Writers and their Works . Qui legis ista , tuam reprehendo , sin mea . — THe industrious writer is like the Bee , who gets sua , but not sibi . Sic vos nonvobis mellificatis apes . So Bees do work , but for themselves work not . Both work for others benefit , and many times both are rewarded with cruelty for their paines ; the one per manús violentiam , the other per linguae virulentiam ; the one suffers by the violence of the hand , the other by the virulence of the tongue . The object upon which their cruelty works , is the life , corporal of the one , civil of the other : for the one loseth formam , even life it self , which is forma corporis , called anima , the soul , quae dat esse corpori , which gives being to the body , say Philosophers ; the other loseth famam , his good name , being most despitefully traduced by the tongue of the criticall detractour . Lastly , the mediate instrument by which they exercise their cruelty , is by fire upon both , Physical or Naturall upon one , Meraphorical upon the other ; for St. James calls the tongue a Fire . — Si mea . — The censorious Reader is so prejudicate in his opinion , as that being sick of the splene , envy shall teach him to call that aelienum , which the industrious Author may justly in his conscience christen meum . I should think my time very ill spent to step over my threshold to desire such envious Criticks to God-father any childe of mine own brinae . — Si mea . — I cannot but brand that envious censurer with the name of an ignominious detractor , who refuseth the work , because he knowes the Authour a man in the world no way famous , and therefore presently spits forth that verse of Virgil , Hos ego versiculos feci , tulit alter honores . Another took the pains , and this man assumes to himself but onely the name of the work . Such a one will protect , 't is alienum , of another mans writing ; and why ? but because he doth not think 't is suum , part of his own meditations ; but let such a one remember his Grammar instance , Insipientis est dicere , Non putâram : It is the part of a foole to say , I had not thought ; and thus sometimes his paines and industry is neglected with a scornfull Tush : and why ? but because the world doth not so much honour the man , as to whirle him about in the chariot of fame . The world frownes upon the man , and the Readers● ( the true borne children of the world ) do so upon his matter , his works too ; the father 's rejected , small hopes then that his childe should have any better welcome . — Si mea . — Me thinks the same word [ mea ] doth enforce into my Meditations ( as it were ) an immortality inveloped in a mortality . For [ mea ] the issue of my braine may be a visible , audible , when as [ meum ] my corps ( being curtain'd by the earth , ) may ( untill the general Resurrection ) be bedded in dust and ashes ; Littera scripta manet , the braines issue may survive the father , yea after he be converted into nihilum , into his Materia prima , in the Philosophers terme , even into that in which Job repented , into dust and ashes : and this comes somewhat near to the Politicks , who say , that a man is ( as it were ) eterniz'd in that golden line of life , the line of his posterity . — Si mea . — Mea , not aliena . It shames that an industrious Student should behave himself so ill in his premeditated exercises , as that a former Writer should have just occasion to sue him ( as it were ) in a trover and conversion , as the Lawyers speak . It is a token of great paines and industry in Writers to make those things [ sua ] their own , wich they write . That Writer who steales here a piece out of one book , and there a piece out of another , is like unto a botching Taylor , who to patch up his broken clothes , opens his hell , ( a place well known to unconscionable Taylors ) and there he findes this piece which he stole from such a customer , and that piece from another , with which parings he makes his torne suite serviceable ; but yet herein they differ , the one takes new shreds to mend an old garment , the other collects old meditations to patch up his new . — Si mea . — Omnia . — If [ Mea ] be not [ Omnia mea , ] Discretion wills me to margent my Authours , that so the judgement of the Reader may distinguish mea from omnia mea , and I hope that may free me from the censure of thievery , and may almost perswade my self , that I shall not be arreigned at the barre of rash judgement before Judge Zoilous and Momus his brother-assistant , if I chance to borrow an antick authour , either to confirme my assertion , or to conferre some grace upon my conclusion , and promise to pay him again with an acknowledgement , though it be in a landskip , even as farre off as the margent-room will reach . ESSAY . VI . Of Praise . Qui legis ista , tuam reprehendo , si mea laudas . PRAISE not fitted to a right object , is like that winde which deceitfull butchers use to blow into their leane , ill-favoured meat , it may puffe up , and make it shew fairer to the eye , but it cannot better the taste . Praise my work or labour thou may'st ; it may prove my humility , but it shall not pride my humanity . — Si mea laudas . Mea , not me . Praise not my person . Personal proportion cannot be the true object of Praise : A small fall may soon dash that . The world could never yet promise an enjoyment by a perpetuity ; a new devise in law unknown , and therefore unpractised by the old world , because impossible to be obtained : for a broken leg , a broken arme , or a broken back may disjoynt thy praise , and then thou mayest be compelled to pause at that which before thou didst praise ; now thou may'st have just occasion to condole that which before thou didst applaud . — Si mea laudas . Mea , not quae mei . Naturall endowments should neither be the objects of Praise . 'T is for the fond over to praise such things in his be●oved . Forma bonum fragile est . — Such endowments are given of God , ●ut only to grace the temple of the Holy Ghost , and may be but of a small conti●iance ; or else the conceit of men may ●iffer in the judgement of an external ●ilchritude ; Quot homines , tot sententiae ; As many men , so many mindes , faith our English proverbe ; for she may be faire in oculo placili , who is not so in oculo populi ; the Lover can praise his Mistresses beauty , when perhaps his friend knowes she 's black , yet notwithstanding may be comely . Amorous Poets mistake themselves , who in some curious Elegies and Sonnets praise their Mistresses beauty and perfections , on purpose to pride their natures , to prove their manners , and to procure their loves . This is to wooe Venus with Cupids quiver , carrying the fanne of Praise before their Mistresses , to keep the Sun of Humility from their painted faces . — Si mea laudas . Mea , not quae mihi . Riches do not make a man praise-worthy ; they be dona Dei data , not homin●innata ; they be quae mihi , not mea propria ; things given to me , not properly mine own : Man indeed enjoyes them but ad volunt atem Domini . God is hi● Land-lord , and man his Tenant ( but ) a will . An opifical repute is correspondent to ta●ite , but yet worldly applause ; and I wonder much , why fine clothes and a full purse ( which perhaps may be a shrowd to vice ) should be more honoured then Vertue , Grace and Learning covered under a ragged vestment . 'T is folly to praise in homine aliena , and even mad folly to elevate a man upon the Pinacle of Admiration , quia dives est , because he is rich . Riches are but mans servants , yet no covenant , no statute-servants : man is not sure of them a year , no , nor a day ; he cannot indent with them for a certain Diary enjoyment ; for they ( like the Indian Bird ) have wings to ●lie away , no feet to stand still . I cannot here but commemorate that worthy saying of an ancie●t Father to this purpose in hand : Quid est quod dicis , Ego dives , ille pauper ? Sarcinam tuam commemoras , pondus tuum laudas ; taceas laudestuas , qui miserationes tuas n●n consideras : What 's thou sayest , I am rich , he is poor ? thou do'st but commemorate thy heavy charge , and commend thy weighty burden . If thou didst but consider , that thou ( though moneyed ) deservest rather to be pitied then praised , thou would'st be silent in thine arrogant praises . — Mea laudas . Not mea laudo . A man must not praise his own work , that 's self-praise in an arrogant opinion of his own worth ; how boldly then doth self-conceit shrowd in the frontispice of his own work an implicite commendation in a Commend me , or amend me ? — Si mea laudas . Mea , yet not mea mala . My evil actions are not praise-worthy . My evil acts must not be prais'd abroad , For they ( like smoke ) do stop the breath of laud . So saith the Greek Sententionist . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . If the actions of man may be compared to Fire , surely the evil in ( or the deformity of ) his actions may be the smoak which stops the mouth , or furres up the throat of charity , so as it cannot , ( nay it may not ) chant the praises of a friend or neighbour , because by vicious acts degenerate , and ill-deserving . — Si mea laudas . Mea , yet not mea amatoria . Praise not my amatorious and wanton pamphlets ; these indeed may gaine a little popular applause , and windy praises amongst Satans lecherous posterity , because pleasing to their carnal desires ; nay with some ( it seem ) the fish is already caught , one would think then 't is time to hang aside the nets ; 't is confest in plaine termes , in the very frontispice of some lascivious stage-pamplets , vaunting that 't was acted with much applause . These bastard-meditations are begotten between Mars and Venus ; when Fancy hath helped Venus to deliver them , then doth the Printer wrap them up in their swadling-clouts , and then are they to some great Lord or Lady to God-fa — honour them ( I mean ) with an acceptance ; I , ( and that which the Author implicitely prayes for in his Epistle Dedicatory is ) to owner them so as to make them their adopted children ; for ( no doubt ) they strive what they can to make them their honourable Patro●s pictures , and therefore may suite best with my Lord or Ladies fancy ; for Simile similiga●det , Like joyes in like ; and therefore they will not loath them , but love them , highly extoll and praise them , and their Authors industry and ingenuity for them ; whereas books of great power to imprint either the Theological or Moral Vertues in the soule , being in like manner presented to some honourable view , may for the titles sake , especially for the subject matter , be both unregarded , and unrewarded . And what 's the reason of this ? Surely it may quickly be apprehended , the Author forgot his Patrons humour , and in it he 's afraid he shall not finde his own picture , if he should vouchsafe to give it a perusal , no marvel then if it be rejected : For Omne simile nutrit sibi simile , Like loves to nourish its like . Theologicall and Moral discourses then should be presented to Patrons of more setled and diviner spirits , lest the Author should cast pearles before swine . But such discourses which do ( as it were ) dissect or anatomize the body of faire Venus , and her blinde sonne Cupid , are of right to be patronized by amorous and lustful gallants : but I am afraid , that such discourses may be ominous to the Writers , if not the Readers , being begot when Mars and Ven●s were in a conjunction . Did they not prove an ominous tempest to Ovid , when for them his punishment was no lesse then banishment ? The Astronomers say too , that this conjunction of Mars and Venus enforceth raine and tempest ; and I am sure that these lascivious pamphlets and idle ballads cannot aff●rd either to the Writer or Reader any true comfort ; carnal pleasure for the present they may , but at the last they cause ( as it were ) a tempest in the conscience , and work in the minde , trouble , vexation and grief , and that in two respects . In respect of the 1. Time . 2. Matter . 1. In respect of the time , because 't was lost in penning or perusing such libidinous toyes , for which time an account shall one day be given at the tribunal of Heaven , though it was not spent nihil agend● , yet 't was male agendo ; not idlely , yet evilly . Object . Yet you commonly say that these meditations ( though on Cupids proportion ) keep me from many worse exercises . Answ. By your own confession they are bad in gradu positivo , so that your own mouth doth excuse you ● tanto , but not à toto . I have read it written in the discommendation of that great Polititian VIVES , that he did spend his whole life , part in scanning , whether he should pronounce Vergilius or Virgilius , Carthaginenses or Carthaginienses , Primus or Preimus , and despising all worthy sciences and orderly course of government or ru●●iments ; he spent the rest of his time in making filthy and lascivious Epigrams . It would be more commendable and praise-worthy both in the sight of God and man , to spend thy time upon some more serious exercises , which may tend to Gods glory , the good of thy Countrey , and the benefit of thy neighbours , and all this may end with comfort to thine own soul . Non nobis sol●m nati sumus , saith the Oratour . 2. In respect of the matter , these lascivious pamphlets and wanton ballads may become a grief and trouble to the soul ; for such works in the subject matter are but folly : and would it not grieve and trouble a wise man , especially upon his death-bed , that he hath spent his precious time upon folly ? Such amorous meditations are Satans snares , in which he catches the fleshly dotterels ; they be that grand Impostors waters which quench the fire of zeale , which perhaps was scarce discernable before . That great Writer of lascivious folly , stiles his own meditations no better ; and therefore writing his last work , ( as he then intended ) wherewith he resolved to solace the mindes of young men and maids , calls it GREENS Farewell to Folly ; sure then unworthy of praise , because Folly : so he termes it , and so I leave it . — Si mea laudas . Mea , yet not mea meritoria . Praise not thy works m●ritorious . Merit , and my sinnes are ( as it were ) contradictories . Did I merit per opus operatum , I must then have wages for my work , and I never read in the Scripture of any wages allowed in spiritual duties for the work done , but death : The wages of sin is death . Could I be sinlesse , I could merit ; had not my Saviour been so , he could never have merited * ex merito condigni , in which my faith doth challenge an interest per viam applicationis only , no way per viam proprietatis ; those merits are not mine owne , but my Saviours by faith applied to my sin-sick soul . My Faith must labour and be fruitful , and my * reward shall be Heaven , yet my small endeavours cannot counterpoise that great reward ; for what * proportion is there betwixt a thing finite and infinite ? So farre would the one outpoise the other in the scales of Justice , as that there would be betwixt them an unutterable disquiperation . Man hath Heaven ex * dono , non ex perquisito , as the Lawyers speak , by gift , not by purchase ; he hath it at the end of his labours {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} * {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , not {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , as a voluntary gift to reward his temporal labours , not as wages which then should be due to him from God his Master , having deserved it for the works which he hath done for his benefit in his service . With what face then can I pride my self up in a self-conceit of merit ? I must confesse that all my merit is Gods mercy , and so I cannot be poor in merit , as long as GOD is rich in mercy ; for which I must have a tongue of Praise , whose object must be God ; but I desire not the praise of mans ●ongue , because I have done ●onum , a good work ; yet I may have praise of God , if I have done bonum bene , that good work well . It is Gods work , not mine ; I know no reason why mine own good works should puffe me up , having perhaps no other ground to perswade my self that they be so , but the praise of men , ( when as sordet in distinctione judicis , quod fulget in opinione operantis , ) when as those good works may be fordid in the sentence of him who should be the rewarder , which are splendant in the sight of the worker . — Si mea laudas . Mea , yet not mea moralia . My morall actions or vertues in some sort , ought not to be the object of praise and commendations . Object . But ere I proceed , me thinks I hear the plain or right Moralist intercepting me in my Meditations with his Contradictory Cavil , objecting authority to refel my position , syllogizing thus : That which makes a man blessed , is worthy of praise ; But Vertue makes a man blessed ; Therefore Vertue is worthy of praise . The proposition or Major Cicero proves for him . Quicquid est laudabile ( saith he ) idem & beatum videri debet : Whatsoever is laudable , the same ought to seem blessed ; and that which is blessed entitativè , may be so effective ; that which is blessed , ( no doubt ) may make blessed , which is apparant in the summum bonum . The assumption or Minor hath a Theoreme of a Moderne Philosophical Methodist to back it ( as it were ) with armour of proof , who thus writes : It is no absurdity to say or hold , that the habit of vertue ( which cannot be hindered in the act ) makes a man Politically blessed , and concludes , that in it consists the chiefest good , the summum bonum . To which I answer ; First , That this position or theoreme is not absolute , but conditional , which condition stands upon two feet , à nisi and an it ● ; the first respects the thing , the second the person ; there 's an obstante in the first , and a secundùm quid in the second . The first condition is , That the habit of vertue doth not make a man Politically blessed , unless it be such an habit , as that there be no obstacle , which may hinder the reduction of the habit into the act , whereby the habit is exercised ; Now how doth Vice stand like a Lion in the way to hinder the actual operation of the habit of Vertue ? whence it happens that many times the habit of Vertue lies like glowing coales rak't up in embers . The second condition is , That though the habit of Vertue be no way hindred in the act , yet it makes a man blessed ; but Politicè tantùm , Politically only , and that Political perfection of Felicity the Philosophers bound onely upon this life , and specificè upon the civil life only ; which Felicity is so placed in contemplatione primi boni , in the contemplation of the first good , as that the externe good things of the world , which may fitly adde to the complement of a civil life , must not be severed from Felicity ; because mans nature is not ( {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} ) sufficient to contemplat without an enjoyment of the outward worldly good things ; so that a man may be happy , and yet unhappy ; a seeming felicity may be an ●nmate in the house of his soul with a being misery , which may not be publick and apparant , till rifler death makes an ent●y . Just-meale-mouth'd Absalom , and wife-politick Achitophel were applauded , praised , beloved , and respected for their morals , and in the vulgar judgement were deemed happy and blessed , because the intended justice of the one , and the pretended policies of the other were devoted to the service and good of the Weale-Publick ; but really to demonstrate a seeming blessednesse , the haire of the head made one miserable , and a rope the other unhappy . Or , Secondly , I answer , that I deny not ●ut that true Vertue , secundum essentiam , is praise-worthy ; which being en●o●ed in Morality only , was the object of praises amongst the ancient Heathen . See how Horace commends the just and constant man : Iustum & tenacem propositi virum , Non civium ardor prava●ubentuam , Non vultus instantis Tyranni Mente quatit solidà : ●equ● Aust●r . Dux inquieti turbidus Adriae , Nec fulminantis magna Iovis manus , Si fractus illabatur orbis , Impavidum ferient ruinae . Nor Citizens zeale commanding wicked things , Nor threatning brow of wrathfull Tyrant-Kings . Nor the South-winde , the chief disquieter , Of th' Adriatick waves , nor Jupiter , Whose potent hand moves thunder from above , The just resolv'd , and constant man can move . Though the worlds fabrick Heaven quite demolish , It s fearful fall would not his heart astonish . Thus this best of Lyrick Poets doth almost unbreath himself with the praises of Pollux , Hercules , Bacchus and Romulus , who were of Mortals made even immortall by two vertues especially , Constancy and justice ; Such for their Morall vertues , were by Heathen writers praised and raised up ad astra , but we who are Christian readers know what they were . And see what an excellent commendation this same Poet gives Vertue but a little before in his second Ode . Vi●tus repulsae nescia sordidae , Int' aminatis ful get honoribus , Nec sumit aut ponit secures Arbitrio popularis aurae : Virtus recludens immeritis mori Coelum , negatâ tentat iter viâ : Coet úsque vulgares , & udam Spernit humum fugiente pennâ . Vertue , who ne'ere did base repulses know , Doth shine , beset with taintlesse honours show , She publick honours doth nor take , nor will , To get applause , or please the vulgar will : She op'ning Heaven to men , who endlesse dayes Deserve , seekes passage through obsessed wayes : She , scorning things which taste of earthly leaven ▪ Doth swiftly reare her slight from earth to Heaven . I deny not ( I say ) but that Vertue in it self is praise-worthy , but many times the object of praise is blotted , being placed in a most vicious subject , who for one or two vertues may be noted , but with twenty vices may be tainted ; so that the viciousnesse of the person or subject may obscure the lustre of his vertues , and so ( though not cut off , y●t ) may curtaile ( if I may so speak ) that praise which of right is due to them , and to him for them . And it is now become a grosse errour in earthly men , to make him a paterne of imitation in all things , who deserves to be followed but in one ; he being the subject of one or a few particular vertues shall be made by the mop●ey'd ignorant the object of a general encomium . Absalom was affable , but yet a ●latterer , a traitour , a disobedient wretch , a rebellious caitiffe , he was indeed ( as Aechines and Polycrates reporced of King Philip of Macedon ) facundus & formosus , fairetongu'd , and fair-fac'd ; was he therefore worthy to lead the people by the eyes , as Hercules did by the eares ? But to draw nearer to my former assertion ; neither the Moral , nor the Intellectual vertues can make a man the true object of praise absolutely , and in all respects , and that for these foure reasons . First , because the enjoyment of them alone without the Theological vertues , cannot assure a man of future eternal felicity . Though they be hominis * bona , and Dei dona , mans goods and Gods gifts , yet they do not bring a man to the crown of glory ; their possessors and open professours may be , yet notwithstanding but natural men , who are enthralled , and do homage to these three Tyrants , The 1. World , 2. Flesh , & 3. Devil . to whom they are no better then bond-slaves as long as they live in the state of Nature . The best of the Heathen , yea and the best of the Jewes are no better how glorious soever they be ; Amongst the Heathen Aeneas was counted the most pious , Plato the most divine , Aristides the most just , Aristotle the most learned , Socrates the most vertuous , Lucretia the most chaste ; And amongst the Jewes the Essees and the Pharisees were most devout ; and amongst these , Paul was reputed the most servent in zeal , unblameable , the patern of Perfection , as erroneously he judged of himself before his conversion , being blinded by the God of this World . But afterwards he saw that his fervency was but fury . All these men were admired for their vertues ; but being without Christ , they were the children of wrath , Eph. 2. 12. The civil and moral worldling will praise some for their good husbandry , some for their good hospitality , some for their temperance , and the like , and for these , honour them for perfect Christians ; These only in the sight of the bleare-ey'd Civilian are vertues sufficient to hurry a man about the World in the chariot of Praise . Paul summes up a catalogue of many Worthies in an explicite commendation of their worth , yet not for any of their Moral vertues , but for one of their Theological , nominated , their faith . The second reason is ; because man may be an Aretist , and yet an Atheist ; he may enjoy these vertues , and yet live without God , and therefore but dead , ( ut corpus sine anima , sic anima sine Deo ) his body is but the sepulchre of a dead soul . If the body of man be the temple of the Holy Ghost , his heart must be the sanctum sanctorum . Industry and Action may adorne the Temple with the Morall and Intellectual vertues ; but if divine grace doth not prepare the sanctum sanctorum , it will never be fit to entertaine the King of Kings . A man may be in outward judgement compleatly vertuous , and yet he may walk but in the night of ignorance , ( as it were ) by the Starre-light of the Morall , and Moon-light of the Intellectual vertues , untill the Sunne of Righteousnesse appear upon the Horizon of his heart , and then he will perswade himself , that all his before he was but pur-blinde , and do we honour the sight of a pur-blinde man with an absolute and perfect praise ? The third reason , because these vertues alone may puffe up the enjoyer , and make him proud and vain-glorious . Morall vertues cannot be exercised without the Intellectual , because they are blinde without these ; And it is not now to be noted for some new thing , that these make some arrogant , though not all . Holy writ doth enforme us that knowledge puffeth up ; and indeed this Iron age hath so wrought with a lofty generation , as that the Learneder are not commonly the Lowlier ; nay is not the proverb verified by the learned Sophist , which is , The poorer the prouder ? Let him who was once ( as it were ) a Carter become a Scholar ; mark how stately hee ' l carry his body , like a swollen Turky-cock ruffling through a yard , and see how haughtily he will shore up his eye-lids , gogling upon his ancient poor acquaintance , as though they never knew his father ; glorying so much in his breeding , as that he hath quite forgot his beginning . Such a one is like to Paulus Samosetanus , who went through the market-places , streets and high-wayes , vaunting publickly of his learning ; or like unto Rhemnius Palemon the Grammarian or Pedant , who was wont to glory , that Learning was borne , and came into the world with him ; and also , that with him it was like to perish . Fourthly , because the vertues of the praised may deceave the judgement of the praiser ; for superficial vertues onely may be the objects of reall praises : Vice sometimes becomes vertues coate , and 't is not discernable in the action , untill justice doth disrobe him . Hypocrisie is a cunning craft●master , he can make vizards for the vices to personate the vertues without a sudden discovery . Hypocrisie can easily fit a man with a Linsey-woolsey garment ; intus linum subtilitatis , extra lanam simplicitatis demonstrat ; whose subtile threed of deceit is within side , but the plaine web of simplicity without side ; thus a man may be ovis visu , but vulpes actu ; his outside may be of Lambes-woole , when as his inside may be lined with Foxefurre . — Si mea laudas . Mea , yet not mea titularia . A man is not the more praise-worthy for his greatnesse and high titles , for good and great are not voces convertibiles , and commonly the higher the haughtier . Exeat aula , Qui volet esse pius , virtus & summa potestas , Non coeunt ; — saith the Poet : Indeed the favourable aspect of a King may wring out of the inferiour an unwonted respect , though the promoted deserves this honour ; just as Haman merited his promotion , whose pride strangled desert , before ever justice advanced him to the rope . Desert of praise doth not alwayes waite upon promotion . — Si mea laudas . The Philosophers reckon praise amongst the goods of Fortune , whose object must be either man or mans , either me or mea conditionally that it may vindicate the title of good . The love of praise is malum , an evil , a vice ; but the object of praise must be bonum , a good , a vertue . Evil men and their wicked works demerit the evil of disgrace , they can never be so much beholding to humane repute , or godly esteem , as to grace them with good words . The Apostle directs a man how to attaine true praise ; Do that which is good , and thou shalt have praise of the same ; 't is not the knowing , but the doing of good which reapes the benefit of praise . Those goods which are necessary to true felicity , should be the true object of praises . There is a twofold good : Bonum 1. Naturale . 2. Spirituale . Natural and Spiritual ; the first is gotten by mans industrious endeavours , the second cannot be obtained but by the help of divine grace . The first the Philosophers divide into the goods of 1. The Minde . 2. The Body . 3. Fortune . 1. The goods of the Minde are Vertue and its actions . 2. The goods of the Body are Health , Strength , Beauty , the integrity of the external and internal senses , and such like endowments which do concurte to the ●ucrasy or good temperature of the body . 3. The goods of Fortune , are nobility , honour , glory , a good name , the fruitfulnesse of the wombe , friends , liberty and riches , &c. These goods ( they say ) are necessary to the enjoyment of felicity in this life , the goods of the minde {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , as essentials to happinesse ; the goods of the Body and of Fortune do secundarily only pertain to Felicity , non ad foelicitatis essentiam , sed integritatem , the one be its instruments , the other its ornaments . But the Spiritual and Theological goods of a man are those three divine Sisters , viz. 1. Faith , 2. Hope , & 3. Charity . These three work a man into the true and eternal happinesse . The natural goods may and ought to be praised in a man , but ony {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , as we commend him who doth bonum , a good thing , in respect of him who doth an action indifferent , we approve of it with a So , So : But the supernatural good things may and ought to be commended {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , because the Agent hath done bonum bene , a good thing well . The essence of Felicity doth consist in the habit of Vertue {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , but in the operation of it {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , saith Aristotle ; and this is as true of the Theological , as of the Moral vertues ; for it is not the having , but the doing which crownes ; not he that can , but he that doth run , obtaineth the prize and praise too , if he be faithful unto the death , hold out to the end of the race . These divine vertues make a man like * Noah , to be just and perfect ; and like * Job , to be perfect and upright ; and like * Zacharias and Elizabeth , to be righteous before God , walking in all the Commandments of the Lord , blamelesse ; blamelesse sine querela , non sine culpa ; without cruption , not without corruption ; blamelesse before men , yet not sinlesse before God . The Saints perfections are not so full , but they may fall ; as long as dust and ashes are cloth'd with mortality , they may be mundi , yet are still mundandi ; clean , yet to be cleansed . The Saints are in this world partially , but not gradually perfect ; perfect secundùm inventionem , non secundùm perventionem ; in regard of intention , contention , or endeavours ; but not in regard of pervention , or performance ; and therefore the foot of it doth rest upon Earth , but the height of it is reserved for Heaven . This is but one degree of their encomium , that they were just and perfect ; the very height of it was , that they were so in their generation : Noah was a just man in his generation ; not a just man as just men went in those dayes , ( that were a poor praise for so worthy a Patriarch , but he was a just man in that generation , wherein the world was over-growne with wickednesse , so he was just , non juxta consummatam justitiam , sed juxta justitiam generationis suae , saith St. Hierome : Hesiod describes five sorts of ages , and that which is the last and worst , is that we now live in , the Iron age . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Iron indeed corsidering the people who live in this age , a wicked , perverse , and crooked generation ; and for a man to shine as a light in thd midst of this naughty and perverse Nation , is worthy of praise indeed . Esse malum inter bonos culmen pravitatis , esse bonum inter malos culmen pietatis ; as to be dissolute amongst the good , is the height of pravity ; so to be good and upright amongst the wicked , is the height of piety : so that I may say with Seneca that in this age Magna pietas est nihil impie facere : It is great piety to refrain from impiety . Martial highly commends Nerva , that he could ( nay that he dared to ) be godly and good in a wicked Court : Nunc licet & fas est , sed tu sub principe duro , Temporibúsque malis ausus es esse bonus . Thus you see what Vertues ought to be the absolute objects of humane praises ; but before I leave the object , I 'le give the foundation upon which praises are to be built , and that is justice , according to Cicero's testimony : Fundamentum perpetuae commendationis & fame est justitia , fine qua nihil esse potest laudabile : The foundation of perpetuall commendation and fame is justice , without which nothing can be laudable . The object must be that good which is worth commendations , 1. whether it be in 1. Amicis . aut 2. Inimicis . in friend or foe , the end is to give to God , his glory . Man , his due . — Si mea laudas . Omnia . — Men must be so praised , as that their vices be not approved ; so was * Asa , * Amazia , and * Jotham commended . To praise mea is charity ; but to praise mea omnia , may be flattery , and that may puffe up , & a puffing up precedes a plucking down . Herods eloquent Oration forced that , euphemy or faustam acclamationem from the people with a vox Dei non hominis , the voice of God , and not of man , which swelled him with pride , giving not the glory to God by punishing those Sycophants , of whose vanity he complained , when he was even ready to yield up his body to dust and ashes , ( as Josephus reports ; ) but the wormes took possession of his body , before time came , that sins Atturney , death did deliver it to them in the grave . Ignatius took care , lest he should be taken with flattering praises , lest they should inflare , puffe him up , and that was but Flagellare , to wound him . — Laudas . Laudas tu , but Qualis tu ? No great matter , for Quis tu ? The quality of the praiser is more to be regarded then the person ; for good men will praise good men , and bad men will praise bad men , and therefore Antisthenes the Athenian being told that he was praised of certaine wicked men , said , Vereor , ne quid imprudens fecerim mali I fear , lest that I have unwittingly done some evil ; thinking that none are praised of evil men , but for evil actions . — Laudas . But Quomodo ? Euripides saith , {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , Vertue shines in good men when they be dead ; and therefore Pescennius Niger being called from the Army to the Empire , said to one who wrote a Panegyrick in his praises for his worthy acts , Write the praises of Marius , and of Hannibal , and of some other worthy deceased Captains , whom we imitate ; and as for my self , placere vivus , mortuus etiam laudari voso ; I will ( whil'st I live ) please ; when I am dead be praised , and good reason too : For , Pascitur in vivis livor , post sata quiescit : Tune suus ex merito quemque tuetur honos . saith Ovid . Wicked sure is that man , who sticks not ( yet the worlds custome 't is , though wicked , ) to praise his neighbour being dead , whom he sought to spoile being living ; so prone to mischievous dissimulation is mans minde , as that he who is now ( in humo ) shrined in dust , shall be the object of praise ; who when he was ( homo ) cloth'd with mortality , was the object of malice . It is the complaint of a moderne Poet : Ledimus insontes vivos , laudamus eosdem Defunctos : O mors candidal vita nigra ! We praise them dead , whom without cause in breath We hurt ; Thou 'rt black , O Life ! thou 'rt white , O Death ! Thus Death makes him precious in our tongues , whom Life esteemed percicious in our thoughts . — Laudas . But Cui ? To whom dost thou praise a neighbour ? if to his enemy , he 'le hate him the more ; if to his friend , perhaps self-conceit may make him so jealous of his own reputation , as that he thinks , that doth derogate from his own worth , which is attributed to the worth or merit of his friend . Indeed Envy now adayes is the greatest , and frequenrest enemie to Worth's preferme●t : It is deafe to all praises , but now to its own ; if praise do not flatter it , it will please it self with self-praises : Malice , especially chaired in honour hath no eares to hear the praises of an inferiour , nor yet Charity to excuse the unadvised errours of the ( otherwise ) well-deserving ; nor yet patience to bear with the weaknesse of inferiour Worthies . An instance in this we have in the Romane Tribunes ; for when Caeso the son of L. Quintius , surnamed Concinnatus , had incurred the hatred and displeasures of the Tribunes , by carrying himself as a professed enemy to popular proceedings , and thereby had endangered his life ; They would not hear of his worthinesse and knowing deservings , the alledging of which incensed them the more , whereby they became the more cruel , like a Beare robbed of her whelps ; they hunted the more eagerly after his blood , which his father perceiving , and being directed by a better discerning wisdome , ( as it were ) then the rest of his Advocates , he chuseth out a path ( for his sonnes safety ) contrary to that which they had trod , omits the recital of his merits , as things not fitting to be seen of a distempered sight , and indeed not to be endured of Envy ; acknowledgeth a fault , and in that regard with great instancy desires the people ( in humble and submissive termes ) to bear with the weaknesse of his yeares , and not to urge the forfeiture of his unadvised errour . Thus better it was to confesse an errour , then to alledge merit . A man therefore ought to beware and consider to whom he praiseth a neighbour . Quid de quoque viro , & cui , dicas , saepè caveto : Is a remembrance to a praiser , as well as to a detractour . Observe what man thy hearer is , and see , The nature of thy praises what they be . — Laudas . We must honour our neighbours by the Apostles injunction , and that ore , by our mouth ; and so by praising their real worth we honour our deserving neighbours by our lips : Praise is honour , qui oratione fit , or according to Aristotie , {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , a speech shewing the greatness of Vertue , or an honour which is given to a man of worth by words Panegyrical , or encomiastick speeches ; and we must honour them too by defending their reputation against the malevolous aspersions of the venemous tongues of detractours , who endeavour to derogate somewhat from their worth by calumny . Satan who is called {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , an accuser or slanderer , is an expert seeds-man , he takes great pleasure in sowing the seed of Envy in mans heart , which beares the black-rotten fruit of detraction . If the fire of passion do but once smother under the wet straw of malice , time will stay but the drying ; occasion shall fire it , opportunity shall finde a tongue to vent it , a calumnious aspersion shall be a requital of a received affront , or ( but ) conceived displeasure ; so proclive to revenge is the minde of man , and sometimes so insatiable , as that it cannot quench its thirst , no not though it be drunk with blood ; a man then who can truly vindicate the title of a friend , will vindicate the cause of his wronged absent friend , by a defence of his reputation against the malicious and viperous brood of back-biters . — Laudas . Nay we must be praisers , or we shall be detractours ; if we maliciously conceale the good which is in our neighbour , we do detract from his fame and worth * indirectly , though not directly , according to Aquina . — Laudas . The Greek word for praise may afford us a point of learning , which may not be baulked or overpassed without notice ; {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} they derive from {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , suscipio , to undertake . Indeed praise doth undertake two things very happily , and a third by the by , viz. 1. Animare . 2. Honorare . 3. Onerare . 1. Animare . ] To hearten and encourage the praised , or the auditor to an imitation of the praiseds vertues , or to a chearful progression in that good which is so commendable ; Laudare est acerrimus stimulus movendi , saith Pliny . Praise is a sharp goad , which rouseth up the dull spirit to an agility in action : So the Poet , — Immensum gloria calcar habet . Glory ( which is consentiens laus bonorum de excellente virtute bene judicantium , as Cicero saith ; or frequens de aliquo fama cum laude , ( as another hath it , ) which is alwayes joyned with praise , is like a spur which stirreth up the spirits to operation , when they begin to be defective in the exercises of good . 2. Honorare . ] Praise doth honour the well-doer ; and honour is pramium virtutis , a reward of vertue , which is given to a good man , that others by his example may be stirred up to the practice of vertuous duties . 3. Onerare . ] To burden a man with pride and vain-glory , and that is the worst office that praise can do . It was part of Ignatius his studies to finde out a meanes how to beware and eschew his praises , ( ne temerè inflarent , ) lest they rashly swell him with the tympany of pride . — Laudas . What profit is it for a man to be bandied up and down in the Tennis-Court of this World with the Racket of Praise ? sure none to the praised ; all the the benefit lights upon the praiser . Praise like a stone thrown against a wall rebounds upon the head of the caster ; Bonum laudare non tam laudato , quam laudantibus prodest ; the good of praise profits the praiser more then the praised . As praise and worldly applause should not transport a man out of himself by accesse of joy , and excesse of self-conceit ; so neither should dispraise and mundane disgrace deject him so much as cause him either to torment his minde with restlesse fancies , or carelesse choler , or melancholy passions , or to period his resolves by desperation ; for anothers dispraise cannot annihilate the object , neither can praise coronize the praised . Praise followes Vertue , but as the shadow doth the body . Contemnit laudem virtus , licèt usque sequatur Gloria virtutem , corpus ut umbra suum . Est etenim virtus aliquid , nil gloria , sicut Est aliquid corpus , corporis umbra nihii . Vertue doth praise contemne , though 't doth embrace . Its steps , as shadow doth the body trace . Like as mans body , so substance Vertue 's deem'd ; But like the shadow , praise is naught esteem'd . The consideration of this may move a man to recollect his saddest thoughts and troubled spirits , even in the midst of melancholy dumps , and worldly troubles , and so meditate on the worlds inconstancy . To conclude then : I have little sought to winde my self into the worlds favour , since I have experienced its ficklenesse ; they onely who are its white-boyes , temporizers now adayes are the most deeply imprinted in its books , and are in the most esteem and repute with worldly men . Let the world frowne upon a man , and it shall be a sure attractive for flatterers and praisers ; but let it once frown , and that is as sure an instructive for detractours ; then away haste friends , whose place is soon possessed with fiends , tormentours , gibers , flowters . Experience taught Ovid the brittlenesse of a friends love , which directed his Muse to warmble out this disciplinary distich : Donec eris foelix , multos numerabis amicos , Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes . Friends are not scarce , as long as riches hold : When wealth is ●led , no friends can then be told . To the very same purpose too writes a Poet of our dayes . Owen . Te bona dum splendet ●ortuna , sequuntur amici , Vt te , dum lucet sol , solet umbra sequi : Quàm p●tmùm liquidus nebul is offunditur a●r , Ecce repentè tuum deserit umbra latus . Whil'st Fortunes Sun doth shine , thou'st friends good store , When Sun is set , thy shadow 's seen no more ; When as dark clouds from sight obscure the Sun , Behold , how soon thy shadowe 's fled and gone . ESSAY . VII . Of Errours in Readers . And therein somewhat of Flattery , Envy , or , Detraction . Qui legis ista , tuam reprehendo , si mea laudas Omnia , stultitiam , si nihil , invidiam . I am now fallen upon the tongue . Nobile lingua bonum , mobile lingua malum . IT was both the best and worst dish , which Aesop could present to his Master ; It is my fortune now to present you with one bad enough , an unfit dish to intrude it self into a banquet ; I must dresse , yet am no curious Cook ; but 't is my comfort , many a palate-pleasing dish hath been cook't by a sloven . — Si mea laudas Omnia , stultitiam , si nihil , invidiam . To praise Omnia ex paucis , that 's folly , and that folly is flattery ; but to praise nihil ex omnibus , that 's envy . To free the Reader then from the suspition both of flattery and envy , he may praise a few of all , not all of a few ; for what man can be so exquisite in his meditations , as that every word should ( like the least filings of Gold , ) have its weight . — Si mea laudas . Omnia . — I may liken our flattering Readers to our flattering Church-Wardens , for as these put in their bills , so they in their Censures thrust in an Omnia bene . There is an herbe called lingua pagana , horse-tongue , or double-tongue ; the devil that crafty gardiner hath got a slip of it , and hath set it in the heart of the Gna●honical Reader ; the effects of it are dangerous , for the juyce of it being drunk by the honest Reader , may be as hurtful to him , as hemlock is to the chicken . Bilinguis was none of Gods making , it waa the devils marring , he loves to make that double which God made single . The Readers cloven tongue hath a great relation to hi● polt-footed judgement , and that makes him so unsetled in his opinion , as that he will disallow of that in the Writers absence , which before he did approve of , and commend in his presence ; such an one is worse then a Zoilus or a Momus ; for like a cowardly curre , he will fawn in a mans face , but bite him by the shins , when his turn'd back hath given the farewell . He is like the Swan ; for his words , like her feathers , are as white as the glorious Lilly ; but his heart , like her flesh , is blacker then quenched coales . If for this cause the children of Israel were forbidden to feed on the Swan , shall I be so greedy of praise as to choke my self with the tickling , glorious words of her Embleam . — Si nihil , invidiam . Envy is mother to detraction ; no marvell then if the daughter be entertained , where the mother hath her welcome , The envious Reader is now become the Writers rider , he rides like death upon a pale horse , called Envy , who knowes no other pace then a false gallop . Envy comes to the Reader ( like a lover ) with a present in her hand , to wooe him to a censure ; Detraction is her present , and Malice stirres up the hand to receive it . She doth Metamorphose the Reader from Lector to Lictor , a beast which Gesner never heard of ; who like the butchers dog , so long ●narles at the Writers credit , as that at length he bites off his good name ; like the Peloponnesian Physician at Rome , he may be called Lanius vulnerarius , a killing butcher , so near is {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} to {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , in sound , Envy to murther , as that they would equivocate without a Schematical Epenth●sis . The detractour is borne ( as one said of Dionysius ) to pride and cruelty ; pride makes him to insult over the Writers labours , and to condemne them to the fire ; and cruelty makes him commend his judgement , and cast them into the ●lames . 'T is a quaint conceit of one , yet true : That the word Detractio begins with a D , and ends with O ; it begins with the Devil , for he is the first mover or instigatour to Detraction ; but it ends with O , Orcus , Hell is his end . When Jezebel took away her neighbour Naboths vineyard , little did she think that her blood should be the price of it , and that her body should ere long give the dogs a break-fast ; and when a man doth take away a neighbours good name by vilifying his person , or the labour of the person with ignominious words ; he little thinks ( it seemes ) that without repentance and restitution , eternall ●lames in hell shall one day banquet both with his body and soule . Now as Augustus Caesar spake of Galba's crooked back , so say I to my envious censorious Reader : Ego monere te possum , corrigere non possum ; Admonition , not correction belongs to me , but if he amends not , the Lord will plague him , because he hath not {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , good will towards his neighbour : for the Lord ( like that Romane Emperour ) Odit pallidos & macilentos , he abhorres such as are lean with envy , and pale with malicious wickednesse . The Lord keep me from such malicious and uncharitable Readers ; wherefore I pray with our Church : From hatred , malice , and all unchartablenesse , Good Lord deliver me . — Si nihil invidiam . Can a man be {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} yet {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , can he be mouthlesse , and yet an uncharitable detractour ? Indeed he is not reproved so much , because he doth nihil dic●re , but because he doth nihil laudare . It is not the silent Reader , but the silent Praiser who is the subject of Envy , and thesefore the worthy object of Reprehension ; 't is true that the silent Reader , if lie harbour Envy in his bosome , though ●e utter it not ▪ is a Politick though tacite , and yet secret detractour ; Gravis est rapacitas , cum veram alterius gloriam , & si me dacio non corrumpis , silentio tamen prae●eris . He is an envious thief who passeth by the true worth of another in silence , as well as he who falsly corrups it with lies , and therefore this silenth Detractor doth peccare in Dei 1. Bonitatem . 2. Gloriam . Sin against Gods 1. Goodnesse . 2 ▪ Glory . 1. Against the goodnesse of God ; quia omnia hominis bonasunt Dei dona ; because all the graces , good things and vertues which are in a man , are Gods gifts , and sparkes of the infinite treasure of his bottomlesse bounty ; now to seek by our silence to suppresse the same , what is it else but to offer injury to God , and to rase out his goodnesse , and so much as is possible to obscure his Godhead , who is altogether and nothing but goodnesse ? 2. Against Gods glory ; quia opera bona hominis sunt pars Dei gloriae ; because the good works of man are part of Gods glory , Matth. 5. 16. Let your light so shine before men , that they seeing your good works may glorifie your Father which is in Heaven . Therefore to seek by silence to obscure the vertues of any , what is it else but to labour to put out the light which God would have to shine unto the world , and so to shew our selves enemies to Gods glory ? — Si nihil , invidiam . I may very well reckon the turbulent Schismatick amongst these si nihils , secro● detractours ; who do Ecclesiae famam detrahere , give the Church an ill report ; they hold fanum to be profanum , because in it assemble n●fandi , as well as fandi , a particoloured Congregation like Josephs coat , and therefore they serve it as Josephs brethren did his garment , ●ent it asunder by foule-mouth'd detraction ; for this purpose serves their private conventicles , they love Aedem better then Aedes , a Chamber better then a Church ; and therefore a private conventicle more then a publick convocation . Finde a Parish in England free from these detractours , and it may well be chronicled . — Si nihil , invidiam . I may very well commemorate an Epilogue written some few yeares since by an ancient divine , to such scholars amongst us , who by their places in our Church , ( and in respect of the treasure they receive out of her dowry ) ought to defend our writings against Schismes and Heresies , and not underhand , and in corners to suggest evil against us , for strengthening the hands of the factious , their private favourites . In Seignior Ambo . Sir Ambo takes a pension of his mother , But fees the fugitive that calls her whore , To us one hand , to him he gives the other A proditor behinde , a friend before . But mark whil'st he thus doth himselfe delight . Both sides do damne him for an Hypocrite . In Seignior Dry-pate . Sir Dry-pate reads and carps , and hems and spits , No marvel though he have purg'd out his wits ; For little 't was when will was at the full , And yet 't is true , he hath no little skull . In quendam Fig-fag . See , see how Fig-fag stirres , and moves and strouts , Hearke , hearke the silly Syre how trim ●e flouts ; Boyes , girles and fooles applaude him for some body ▪ But yet his carps do prove him but a noddy . In homunculum Snuffe . Sniffe-snuffe must judge , not knowing what it meant , For barley broth is Snuffs chief element ; Put him besides the cushion of his cup , And all his liquid sense is dried up . But lance no further busie-bodies tumour , For every foole must needs be in his humour . — Reprehendo , si mea laudas Omnia , stultitiam , si nihil , invidiam . To conclude , I may not unfitly compare my Readers braine to a Sea , in which the little pinnace of his judgement will be floating ; but he hath two dangerous rocks like Sylla and Charybdis to passe through , between which the passage is but narrow , and against which he may easily suffer shipwrack , if discretion do not guide him to entertaine a sober and steddy Pilot ; on his right hand is descried the Rock of Flattery , on his left hand the Rock of Envy ; if he keep the Channel of Charity , he shall be possessed of the Mean , which may challenge a Golden Epithete . Kinde Reader , keep a Mean in thy censures , and I blame thee not ; if otherwise , if thou beest either envious or adulatorious , I must check , though 't be by the leave of this my Poet , applying his own words to thy curious Critical judgement . Qui legis ista , tuam , reprehendo , si mea laudas Omnia , stultitiam , si nihil , invidiam . Reader , if thou do'st praise what e're I 'ave writ , I must ( perforce ) rebuke thy flattering wit ; If thou approv'st of nought in all my book , I must reprove thy heart , 't is envies crooke . FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A45579e-400 1. Qui legis ▪ Worldly men account learning a b●●den . The late booke to tolerate playes and pastimes upon the Lords day liked them well . Tull. lib. ● ad He●on . Chrysost. Hom. 3. in 2. Thessal . Rev. 4. 6. ● . Ista . August Ep. ad Paulinum ; he saith there , Homines plus proficiunt cogitando , quàm legendo . Bernard in Cant. Serm. 49. Hugo in Medit. suit . Meditatio in 1. Creaturis . 2. Scripturis . BOOKS ( like glasses ) are , 1. 1. Prospect . 2. Reflect . 3. Illuminative . 3. Tuam . 4. Reprehendo . 1. The ●atines . 2. The Greeks . 1. Observ● 2. Observ. Johanues de Garlandia . in l. de Synonim . Galfrid : Comment. in lib. Synon . Johan . de Ga●landia . Object . Answ. 1. A Guide . 2. Companion . G● . 6. 1. 1 Tim. 5. 1. Good counsell for the wife . 1 Tim. 5. 1. 5. Si mea . In vita Virgil●i . 6. Laudas . Eccles. 11. 2 Turpitu●o & s●●●us laude●● sussocat . Object . Answ. Rob. Green Suff●it ad 〈◊〉 scire , qu●d non sufficia●t 〈◊〉 ita . Bern. s●per Ca●t . Ser. 6 * Alstedius distinct . c. 23. d. 31. * Quum bo●●●o ; ●ra nostra remunerat Deus , no● merita nostra , sed dona sua coronat . August . Quisquis tibi enumerat merita sua , quid tibi enumerat nisi munera tua ? August . lib. Confess . * Datua , sed quae non debes , proportio & adsit . Non aliter meritum dixeris esse tuum . * Merita habere cures , habita data noveris . Pe●n super Cant. * {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} signifies both munus and pramium , and not barely munus , but munus honorarium . Nec tu elegis●i me , sed ●go elegi te , nec ut te ●liger●m tua merita inveni , sed praeveni : hoc est autem judicium inter me & te , ut tua merita non extollas , non praeferas opera legis . Bern. Ser. 67. super Cant. Non bona tam pensat quàm bene facta Deus . Deus autor est meriti , qui & voluntatem applicat operi , & opus applicat voluntati . Aug. C●cero , in Parad●x . Scheib●er . Philos. compend. . l. 8. c. 1. Non absurdè dici● ur , virtutis habitum , ( sitamen talis fit , ut non adsit impedimentum , prohibens actum ) reddere hominem Politicè beat●●m , adeóque in co summum bonum consistere ▪ Arisl . 1. 10. Eth. c. 8. Resp. 〈◊〉 Carm. l. 3 , Ode . 3. Carm. l. 3. Ode . 2. Repulses or affronts● An instance in Absalom , who was praised for his affability . Reas. ● . * 〈…〉 . Phil. 3. Heb. 11. Reas. 2. Ut anima est vita corporis , sic Deus est vita animae . Reas. 3. ● Cor. 8. 1. Reas. 4. Rom. 13. 3. Arist. l. 1. Rhet. c. 5. Arist. l. 1. Eth. c. 1. Loco supradicto . * Gen. 6. * Job 1. * Luke 1. Quaest , in Gen. Hesiod . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . 1. John 9. 5. Phil. 2. 5. Mart. 1. 12. Epig. 6. * 1 Chron. 15. 14. * 2 Chron. 25. 2. * 2 Chron. 27. 2. Flagellantes enim me flagellant . Ign. in Ep. Laus in ore proprio sordescit . 1 Pet. 2. 11 Rhet. lib. 1 c. 9. * F●na hominis diminuitur vel 1. Directè . 2. Indirectè . 1. Directè , vel per 1 Impositionem falsi . 2. Aggravationem peccati . 3. Revelatio . occulti . 4. Relationem boni , vel veri malâ intentione . 2. Indirectè , vel 1. Bonum alterius negamdo . 2. Malitiosè bonum reticendo , vel minuendo . Aquinas . Cicer. Tusc : Qu. lib. 3. Aug. Owen . Epig. lib. 3. Epig. 13. 7. Omnia stultitiam , si nihil , invidiam . Jev. 11. 18 Bon●●●●ture calls the Detractor , ●ariosus canis , the Butchers Dog . Detractio est de●igratio alienae famae per occulta verba . Aquinas . 
A44478	----	The poems of Horace consisting of odes, satyres, and epistles / rendred in English verse by several persons. Works. English. 1671 Horace. 1666 Approx. 622 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 209 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-07 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A44478 Wing H2781 ESTC R43263 27095196 ocm 27095196 109967 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A44478) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 109967) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1721:2) The poems of Horace consisting of odes, satyres, and epistles / rendred in English verse by several persons. Works. English. 1671 Horace. Brome, Alexander, 1620-1666. Fanshawe, Richard, Sir, 1608-1666. T. H. (Thomas Hawkins), Sir, d. 1640. Dunstall, John, fl. 1644-1675. Loggan, David, 1635-1700? [30], 400 p., [2] leaves of plates : ports. Printed by E. Cotes for Henry Brome ..., London : M. DC. LXVI [1666] Translated by Alexander Brome, Sir Richard Fanshawe, Sir Thomas Hawkins and others. Cf. Notes & queries. v. 174, 1938, p. 200-201. "Imprimatur, Roger L'Estrange. Septemb. 12. 1670."--Prelim. p. [1]. "The epistle dedicatory" signed: Alex. Brome. "The life of Horace": prelim. p. [16]-[28]. Engraved frontispiece portraits of: Horace, by J. Dunstall; Alexander Brome, by D. Loggan. Reproduction of original in British Library. 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Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Horace. 2003-02 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-03 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-04 Rina Kor Sampled and proofread 2003-04 Rina Kor Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-06 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Imprimatur , Roger L'Estrange . Septemb. 10. 1665. CARMINA DESVNT The Poems of Horace Translated into English By several Persons . THE POEMS OF HORACE , Consisting of Odes , Satyres , and Epistles , Rendred in ENGLISH VERSE BY SEVERAL PERSONS . HOR. SAT. 3. Lib. 1. Qui , ne tuberibus propriis offendat amicum Postulat ; ignoscat verrucas illius — He that desires his Wens should not offend His Friend , must wink at th' pimples of his Friend . LONDON : Printed by E. Cotes for Henry Brome at the Gun in Ivy-lane , M.DC.LXVI . To his honored Friend and Patron Sir William Backhouse BARONET , SIR , I Here present , or rather pay , what I have often promised you , and what you have a right to ; The Poems of HORACE in the English tongue : To the Translation whereof my pleasant retirement and conveniencies at your delightsome Habitation , have liberally contributed . And now according to the Custome of my Predecessors , having spoyled some paper with writing a bad Book , I am to waste more in a worse Preface , least I suffer under the imputation of being a heretick in Book-writing . However , I will be so kind to you and my self , as to spare so much time and paper as might be employed in celebrating your Greatness , Virtues , and generous Inclinations towards me , being Themes for a higher Pen than dare pretend to , and only tell you how you came to be disturbed with these undertakings . 'T was not because I understand this Author better than others do , nor because I thought I did . But the same temptation which induced our Grandame Eve to eat fruit , prevaild with me to read Horace , meerly because forbidden . But the frequent Quotation of him by all sorts of ingenious men , and the Hault-goust which the wit and truth of his excellent sayings gave , made me languish till I had broken through all the difficulties which my imbecillity contended with , and thrown my self on this audacious adventure . In the prosecution whereof I never blushd to ask the advice or take the assistance of any person whom I thought able to contribute either . And among the rest , of that indefatigable and eminently learned person with whom , by your indulgence and his own condiscension I had the honour and happiness to grow acquainted , whom I found so skill'd in all the difficulties of this Poet , that he was to me more then all the Voluminous Commentators . Sir , For my speedier dispatch and your advantage , I made bold to take in all such parts of HORACE , as have been Englished by the Lord Embassadour Fanshaw ; and what were omitted by him , I supplyed with such as have been done by Sir Thomas Hawkins , or Dr. Holiday , or both , for they are both the same ; and whether of the two is the Author , remains to me undiscovered : What were not touched by these , I gathered out of Mr. Cowleys and other Printed Books ; and such as were not Translated by others , my self and several friends of mine at my request have attempted : De Arte Poetica being long since Englished by that great Master thereof B. Johnson , I have borrowed to crown the rest . So that you will easily finde , that as this Book consists of several men endeavors , so those several men went several wayes ; but all studied to shun a nice Pedantical Translation , which Horace could not abide . By reading all which you are certain of two Pleasures , Liberty of censuring , and variety of matter . And I have this felicity , that if any dislike what is done , it will not be safe for them to traduce it publickly , least they should reproach some of the Undertakers to their faces ; for we are considerable for number and quality , consisting of many persons ; and those either Right Honourable , Right Worshipfull , Reverend , or ( which is as good ) Well-beloved ; and if I for my part have herein played the Fool , 't is in very good Company . Such as it is I expose it to publick perusal , with this becoming Confidence , that the excellence of the Author will make amends for the imperfections of the Translators ; and having this in my prospect , that HORACE may chance to find as good fortune as his dear friend VIRGIL had , who being plundered of all his Ornaments by the old Traslatours , was restored to others with double lustre by those Standard-bearers of Wit and Iudgment , Denham and Waller . To which end I humbly commend this rude Essay , to those Persons whose Learning , Wit , and Leisure shall enable to do him such right as he serves . And for a president , I desire them to compare these lines of Phaer , This end had Priams destinies , all this chance him Fortune sent , When he the fire in Troy had seen , his Walls and Castles rent , That sometimes over Peoples proud , and Lands had raign'd with fame Of Asia Emperour great , now short on shore he lies with shame , His head besides his shoulders laid , his corps no more of name . with this done by Sir John Denham , Thus fell the King who yet surviv'd the State , With such a signal and peculiar fate , Under so vast a ruine , not a grave , Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have : He whom such Titles swelled , such power made proud , To whom the Scepters of all Asia bow'd ; On the cold earth lies this neglected King , A headless Carcass , and a uameless thing . By which they may perceive how highly Translations may be improved . And if any Gentlemen will be so industrious and kind , as to amend , or but to find out the faults in this Essay ( which may easily be done ) or furnish the Stationer with any better against the next Impression , they will be so far from disobliging me , that I invite them to it , conceiving it a work by which they may gratifie and oblige Posterity : And should rejoyce to see these rude and imperfect draughts , like the Athenian ship so often and throughly amended , that there shall not an old plank remain therein : That so these Poems which were so acceptable to Augustus in their native dress , might be so polish●d in our language , that they may be look'd on by a more indulgent and greater Prince than he was . Perhaps it may be expected that I should have embellished ( as they call it ) this Address with Witty Passages , and Rhetorical flowers ; but indeed Sir , they are grown quite out of fashion , and I am heartily glad that thereby I am freed from a task which I was so unfit for . And now Sir , having tired you with this flat Narrative , to make you amends , I will make no Address to the Gentle Reader ; only I declare to him and all the World , that I profess my self , and am what your Goodness has made me , Honored Mecaenas , Your very much obliged Servant , Alex. Brome . THE LIFE OF HORACE ▪ QUintus Horatius Flaccus was born at Venusium , formerly one of the best Cities in Italy , now called Venoso ; of mean Parentage ; his Father was one whom the Romans called Libertinus , viz. the Son of a Slave who had been made free ; and by Profession he was a Praeco , or a Coactor , whose Imployment was to gather in Debts for Usurers . Of his Mother we find no mention ; onely ●tis agreed by all the Dutch Commentators , that he had one . He was born two years before Catalines Conspiracy , viz. the 6 th . of the Ides of December ; Cotta and Torquatus being Consuls . His Education was at Rome , where his Father finding him very pregnant , kept him at Schoole under Orbilius a whipping Schoole-Master ; his Father also , being a very prudent man , had a severe and watchful eye over him , and instructed him in Virtue . Having attained to a good measure of Grammer learning at Rome , he was sent to Athens ( then the most famous University in the World ) and there studied Philosophy ; in which , if he adhaered to any Sect , it was to the Epicuraeans . At first he was no great Zealot in Religion , but rather jeared than adored any of the Heathen Gods ; of which nevertheless he afterwards repented and made an Ode professedly to testifie his Recantation . In the Civil Warr betwixt Augustus and Brutus and Cassius , he being the familiar Friend of Brutus , took his part in the battle at Philippi ; in which he was a Tribune , which is equivalent to a Colonel here : but whether he fought or not , does not appear ; onely by his being so great a Commander and so ingenious a person , 't is probable that the Muses might inspire him with Wit enough to keep himself out of danger : Some have traduced him for running away , which if true , is excusable ; for Valour and Wit are two spirits which possess onely some men , and that but at some times : So that the same Commanders who have proved Cowards in a just and honourable War , have afterwards in a Tavern dared to challenge such as call'd them so ; and by the law a Souldier is no more bound to fight when he is out of his humor , then an Orator to speak when he is out of his wits : Nor is it prudent for a man of Wit and Learning to have his brains beaten out by one that has none . Augustus having won the Battle , it appeared that Horace had taken the wrong side , for which his great friend Mecaenas , a very rich noble man of Rome , and in great esteem with Augustus , obtained a pardon : And Augustus , like a good-natured Prince , not only pardoned , but rewarded him for being against him , and ( if it had then bin in fashion there ) would have Knighted him . Now being become a Courtier , and not old or bold enough to begg ; and Augustus , so newly after a Warr , not rich enough to give ; he ( like others of his Order ) wanted Money , and that put him upon making Verses , which he performed to admiration , and was the first that introduced the Lyrick Poëtry among the Romans : By which , and his great ingenuity and sweetness of Conversation , he grew so much in favour with Mecaenas , that he by his good will , would never have him out of his Company ; and to encourage him in his Studies , and enable him to live without cares , bestowed on him a competent Estate among the Sabines , where he had a Country-house , to which he often retired , from the noise and bustle of Rome , to write and contemplate , and in which he took great delight and recreation . By Mecaenas he was preferr'd to a familiar acquaintance with Augustus , who offer'd to make him his Secretary of State : But Horace ( like other great Wits ) hated business . Augustus also considering what immortality Poets conferr on Princes and other great men , wrote a Letter himself , inviting him to come and live with him as his companion . And having read some of the Satyres , and found not himself concern'd , or his name mentioned therein , he complain'd of it , and asked him , Whether he thought it would be a disparagement to him to have it recorded to posterity , that Horace was a familiar friend to Augustus ? As to his Stature , he was short and very fat , blear-ey'd , gray-headed in his youth , and bald in the forehead . And for his morals , he was a very good man , pious and grateful to his Father , whom being grown old and poor , he releived and kept at his Country house : much a Gentleman in his nature and demeanour ; very merry and face●ious in company , soon angry and as soon pleased : As to his Diet , he was that which we by a grand mistake call an Epicure , for he loved and understood how to eat and drink well ; and though he was very temperate and frugal generally , yet at a Treat , if he lik'd his Company , he would give nature a loose , and come up to Ohe ! He had that good natured Vice ( if it be one ) which constantly adheres to great Wits , and is much indulged by high imagination ; an inclination to women , which he is the less to be condemned for , because he was a Bachelour , and in his time and Country it was not esteemed a crime . He was well acquainted with , and highly valued by , all the eminent wits , and persons of quality in his time . By frequent Company-keeping , and strict observation , he informed himself of all the vices and humours of Rome , which he reproved and chastised in a way of raillery , whereby men were jear'd out of their ill manners and not offended : So considerable was he for his parts , and so eminent for his writings , that he deservedly won the applauses of divers of the greatest Schollars in their times , as Tibullus , Virgil , Ovid , Petronius , Persius , Quintilian Alex. Severus , St. Augustine Scaliger , and Bishop Iewel , who have all written in his Commendation , and are known to be neither Fools nor Flatterers . How long he lived , is not agreed on ; some say 50 , some 55 , some 59 , others 70 years ; but when he finish'd his second Book of Epistles he was 44 years old . And he dyed soon after Mecaenas , namely ( as the best Authors report ) 5 Kal. Decemb. Censorinus and Gallus being Consuls , which was five years before the birth of Christ , having made Augustus his heir , to whom he left his Library , which was a good one ; and a years provision , which he alwayes designed to keep before hand ; and being a great contemner of wealth , and a derider of covetous men , he never aim'd at more . Being dead he was buried next to Mecaenas himself , in the Esquiliae ; an honour which good Poets deserve , and which great Princes have in all times taken care to conferr upon them . ODES . BOOK I. ODE I. By Sir R. Fanshaw . To MECOENAS . That several Men affect several Things : That himself is delighted with the Study of Lyrick Verses . MECOENAS , Thuscan Kings descent , My Bulwark and sweet Ornament . There are that love their Charets spoak With rais'd Olympick dust should smoak : And with hot Wheels the Goale close shaven , And noble Palm , lifts Men to Heaven ▪ One , if the fickle Peoples blast Redoubled Honours on him cast : Another that delights to teare With Plough the Fields his Fathers were : If in his private Barns He store Whatever fruitful Africk bore ; The wealth of Croesus cannot gain With trembling Keele to plough the Main . Frighted with rough Icarian Seas , The Merchant praises Home and Ease : But His bruis'd Vessel repairs straight , Impatient of a mean Estate . There is that neither scorns to taste Old Massique , nor half-days to waste Under a shady Poplar spread , Or at a Bubling Fountains Head. Some Drums and Trumpets love , and War ; Which Mothers do as much abhorr . The Huntsman in the cold doth rome , Forgetting his poor Wife at home , Whether his Hounds a Stagg have rowz'd , Or Marsian Boar his Nets have towz'd . Mee Ivy ( Meed of learned Heads ) Ranks with the gods : Mee chill Groves , Treads Of Satyrs with loose Nymphs , have show'd A way out of the common Road ; Whilest kind Euterpe wets my Flute , Whilest Polyhymnie strings my Lute ; Then write Mee in the Lyrick Role , My lofty Head shall knock the Pole. A Paraphrase upon the first Ode by S. W. Esq To MECOENAS . MECOENAS , sprung from Royal blood , My greatest Patron , just and and good ! There are , who in th' Olympick Games Raise the light dust , but more their names : When the Fleet Race , and noble prize , E're death , the Victor Deifies . Some in applause , that empty aire , Place both their honour , and their care ; While others with a different minde Would choose more solid wealth to finde , And rich in what the Earth dos yield , To the whole Sea preferrs one field ; The Sea'l not tempt them , or its store , No not the World , to leave the shoare . The Merchant when he sees the Skyes Cover'd with storms , and Tempests rise , Thinks none so happy live or well , As those that on the Main-land dwell ; He prayses what he slights at home : But when from a bad Voyage come , Above the Earth he loves the Main , And longs to be at Sea again . The Fuddlecap , whose God 's the Vyne , Lacks not the Sun if he have Wine ; By th' Sun he only finds a way To some cool Spring , to spend the day . Shrill Flutes and Trumpets Souldiers love , And scorn those fears that Women move . The Huntsman , in the open Plains Regardless of the Air remains ; A Dear makes him forget his Wife ▪ And a fierce Boar despise his life . But me the learned Lawrel give , The Gods themselves by Poets live . Give me a Grove , whose gloomy shade For Nymphs and frisking Fawns was made , Where from the Vu●gar hid , I 'le be , The Muses waiting all on me ; Here one my Harp and Lute shall string , Another there shall stand and sing . This one thing great Mecoenas doe , Inroll me in the Lyhick Count , A Lyrick Poet , and I 'l mount Above the skies , almost as high as you . ODE II. By Sir R. F. To AUGUSTUS CAESAR . That all the Gods are angry with the Romans for the killing of Julius Caesar : That the only hope of the Empire is placed in Augustus . ENough of Hail and cruel Snow Hath Iove now showr'd on us below ; Enough with Thundring Steeples down Frighted the Town . Frighted the World , lest Pyrrha's Raign Which of new monsters did complain , Should come again , when Proteus Flocks Did climbe the Rocks : And Fish in tops of Elm-Trees hung , Where Birds once built their Nests , and sung , And the all-covering Sea did bear The trembling Dear . We , Yellow Tyber did behold Back from the Tyrrhene Ocean rowl'd , Against the Fane of Vesta power , And Numa's Tower ; Whilest the Uxorious River swears He 'l be reveng'd for Ilia's Tears ; And over both his Banks doth rove Unbid of Iove . Our Children through our faults but few , Shall hear that we their Fathers slew Our Countrymen : Who might as well The Persians quell . What God shall we invoke to stay The falling Empire ? with what Lay Shall holy Nuns tire Vesta's Pray'r-Resisting Ear ? To whom will Iove the charge commend Of Purging us ? at length descend Prophetick Phoebus , whose white Neck A Cloud doth deck . Or Venus in whose smiling Rayes Youth with a thousand Cupids playes : Or Mars , if thou at length canst pity Thy long plagu'd City . Alas , we long have sported thee , To whom 't is sport bright Casks to see , And grim Aspects of Moorish Foot With Blood and Soot ; Or winged Hermes , if 't is you Whom in Augustus form we view , With this revenging th' other Flood Of Iulius Blood ; Return to Heaven late we pray , And long with us the Romans stay : Nor let disdain of that Offence Snatch thee from hence . Love here Victorious Triumphs rather ; Love here the Name of Prince and Father : Nor let the Medes unpunisht ride , Thou being our Guide . A Paraphrase on the Second Ode by S. W. To AUGUSTUS . Storms long enough at length have blown ! Iove hayl , fire , has darted down , Has his own Temples overthrown , And threatned all the Town . Threatned the World , which now did fear Another Deluge to be near ; When Proteus all his herds did drive Upon the hills to live . When highest trees with Fish were fill'd , Those trees where birds were wont to build ; And staggs that could the wind out fly Must take the Sea , or dye . We Tiber saw , when seas withstood His streams , and checkt with Seas his flood , More heady , and unruly grown , Not wash , but bear all down ; And swelling at his Ilias wrong No more his banks did glide along , But chose new Channels and a Sea , To be reveng'd would be . How our own swords those wounds did make Which might have made the Persian quake , These Civil Warrs , next age shall tell , And fear what us befell . When th' Empire thus begins to fall , On what God shall poor Romans call ? In vain we hope our god will hear When Vesta stops her ear . To whom will Iove Commission give To purge us , or our Plagues reprieve ? Descend Apollo cloth'd with light , Thy beams must make us bright . Or else thou fairest Queen of Love , More needed here then thou' art above , About whose neck the Graces fly , And languish in thine eye . Or Mars , if he hath any pity For his despis'd and ruin'd City ; Though Mars has been so long at Rome We need not wish he 'd come . Or you bright Hermes , proud to be Augustus , more than Mercury , Since in that shape you choose to breath , And expiate Caesars death . Let it be long ere you return To heav'n , in love your Romans burn For their old crimes , desire your stay , Never to goe away . Do you their Lives and Warrs command , The Prince and Father of your Land , Nor let our Enemies 'ore us ride , While Caesar is our Guide . ODE III. By Sir R. F. He prayes a prosperous Voyage to Virgil , Embarqued for Athens : and takes occasion from thence to inveigh against the Boldness of Man. SHip , that to us sweet Virgil ow'st ( With thee intrusted ) safe Convey him to the Attick Coast ; And save my better half : So Helene's Brothers ( Stellifi'd ) And Venus guide thy Sails : And the Wind 's Father , having tie'd All up , but Vernal Gales . Of Oak a Bosom had that man , And trebble-sheath'd with Brass , Who first the horrid Ocean With brittle Bark did pass ; Nor fear'd the hollow Storms , that rore ; The Hyades , that weep ; Nor the South-wind , which Lords it ore The Adriatick Deep . What face of Death could him dismay , That saw the Monsters fell ; And wracking Rocks , and swelling Sea , With Eyes that did not swell ? In vain , the Providence of God The Earth and Sea did part , If yet the watry Pathes are trod By a forbidden Art. But Men ( that will have all , or none ) Still things forbid desire : Iapetus bold Son stole down The Elemental Fire : Whence Leanness over-spread the World , And Feavers ( a new Race ) Which creeping Death on Mortals hurl'd ; And bad him mend his pace . Daedale the empty Air did cut With wings not giv'n to men ; And Hercules the Gates unshut Of Pluto's dismal Den. Nothing is hard to sinful Man : At Heav'n it self we fly ; Nor suffer Iove ( do what he can ) To lay his Thunder by . ODE IV. By Sir R. F. To L. SEXTIUS a Consular Man. Proposeth the arrival of the Spring ; and the common condition of Death , as Inducements to Pleasures . SHarp winter's thaw'd with spring & western gales , And Ships drawn up the Engine hales : The Clown the Fire , the Beasts their Stalls forgo : The Fields have cast their Coats of Snow . Fair Venus now by Moon-shine leads a Dance , The Graces after comely prance . With them the Nymphs the Earth alternate beat , Whilest Vulcan at his Forge doth sweat . Now should we be with lasting Myrtle Crown'd , Or Flowers late Prisners in the Ground . Now should we sacrifice a Lambkins Blood To Faunus in a sacred Wood. Death knocks as boldly at the Rich mans dore As at the Cottage of the Poore , Rich Sextius : and the shortness of our days Fits not with long and rugged ways . Swift night will intercept thee , and the Sprights , They chat so of in Winter Nights , And Pluto's haunted Inn. Thou canst not there Call for the Musick and good Cheer : Nor in soft Chloris gaze away thy sight , Her Sexes Envy , Our delight . ODE V. By Sir R. F. To PYRRHA . That those Men are miserable who are intangled in her Love : That he is escaped out of it as from Shipwrack by Swimming . WHat Stripling now thee discomposes , In Woodbine Rooms , on Beds of Roses , For whom thy Auburn hair Is spread , unpainted fair ? How will he one day curse thy Oaths , And Heav'n that witness'd your Betroaths ! How will the poor Cuckold , That deems thee perfect Gold , Bearing no stamp but his , be maz'd To see a suddain Tempest rais'd ! He dreams not of the Windes , And thinks all Gold that shines . For me my Votive Table showes That I have hung up my wet Clothes Upon the Temple Wall Of Seas great Admirall . A Paraphrase on the fifth Ode , by Dr. C. 1. TO whom now Pyrrha art thou kind ? To what Heart-ravisht Lover Dost thou thy golden locks unbind , Thy hidden sweets discover , And with large bounty open set All the bright stores of thy rich Cabinet ? 2. Ah simple youth , how oft will he Of thy chang'd faith complain ? And his own fortunes find to be So airy and so vain , Of so Camelion-like an hew , That still their colour changes with it too . 3. How oft alas , will he admire The blackness of the skies ? Trembling to hear the winds sound higher , And see the billows rise , Poor unexperienc'd he , Who ne're before alas had been at Sea ! 4. He enjoyes thy calmy Sun-shine now , And no treath stirring hears ; In the clear heaven of thy brow , No smallest cloud appears ; He sees thee gentle , fair , and gay , And trusts the faithless April of thy May. 5. Unhappy ! thrice unhappy he , T' whom thou untried dost shine , But there 's no danger now for me , Since or'e Lorettoes shrine , In witness of the shipwrack past , My consecrated vessel hangs at last . ODE VI. By C. C. Esq To AGRIPPA . Argument . Though Varius in Heroick stile Agrippa's Martial Acts compile ; Yet Horace his low-pitched Muse More humble Subjects best pursues . VArius in living Annals may To the admiring Universe Voice out in high Maeonian Verse Thy courage and thy conquests won , And what thy Troops by Land and Sea , Have through thy noble conduct done , Our Muse Agrippa that does fly An humbler pitch , attempts not these , T' express Pelides rage ; nor fly Ulysses tedious Voyages : Nor dips her Plume in those red Tydes Flow from the bloody Parricides Of Pelops cruel Family : We nothing to such heights pretend , Since Modesty , And our weak Muse , who does aspire No further than the jolly Lyre , Forbids that we Should in our vain attempts offend And darken with our humble Layes Thine , and great Caesars God-like praise . Who to his worth can Mars display When clad in Arms , whose dreadfull ray , Puts out the day ? Or brave Meriones set forth , When soyl'd in Trojan dust , or raise Fit Trophies to Tydides worth Who to th' immortal gods was made A rival by Minerva's aid ? We sing of Feasting , and Delights , Stout drinking , and the harmless fights Of hot young Men , and blushing Maids , Who when the Foe invades Make a faint show To guard what they 'r content should goe . These are the subjects of our Song In nights that else would seem too long , Did we not wisely prove ODE VII . By Sir T. H. To MUNATIUS PLANCUS . Some praise one City , some another , but Horace preferreth Tibur before all , where Plancus was born , whom he exhorteth to wash Care away with Wine . SOme Rhodes , some Myt'l●ne , Ephesus doth please , Or walls of Corinth , with its two-fold Seas : Some Thebes , some Delian Delphos worth defend , Other Thessalian Tempe's air commend . There are , who make their sole , and fix'd design , To mention Pallas City in each line , And rather strive her Olive branch to grace , Than any pull'd off from another place : Yea some to honour Iuno , loud proclaim Horse-racing Argos , and Mycenas fame . Me , not the patient Sparta's pompous sights , Nor fat Larissa field so much delights , As do Albunea's Eccho-giving Groves , And Anien's headlong stream that by it roves ; Or than Tiburnus woods , and Orchard-grounds , Moystned with gliding brook which it arrounds . As the South wind , the Heav'ns from dark Clouds scowrs And doth not generate perpetual showers ; So ( Plancus ) with good Wine , be it thy strife , To wash down sadness , and the toyls of life : Whether thou to thy glittering Tents art ty'd , Or dost in Tibur's shady Bowers abide . When Teucer fled , Father , and Salamine , He , ( it is said ) his Temples dew'd with wine , And browes encircled with a Poplar wreath , Did 'mongst his pensive friends these accents breath : What way Fortune ( more kind than Syres ) shal show , We , Friends , and dear Companions , will go . Teucer , your Guide , Teucer Encourager , Despair not any thing , admit no fear : For we shall raise a second Salamine , ( Sayes wise Apollo ) in another Clime : Brave Spirits , who with me have suffer'd sorrow , Drink cares away ; wee 'l set up fails to morrow . ODE VIII . By Sir R. F. To LYDIA . He notes obscurely a certain Young Man , whom he calls Sybaris , as undone with Love , and melted with Pleasures . LIdia , in Heavens Name Why melts young Sybaris in thy Flame ? Why doth he bed-rid lie That can indure th' intemperate Skie ? Why rides he not and twits The French great Horse with wringled bits ? Why shuns he Tybur's Flood , And wrastlers Oyl like Vipers Blood ? Nor hath his Flesh made soft With bruising Arms ; having so oft Been prais'd for shooting farre And clean delivered of the Barre ? For shame , why lies he hid As at Troy's siege Achilles did , For fear lest Mans Array Should him to Manly Deeds betray ? ODE IX . By Sir R. F. To THALIARCHUS . That being Winter , it is time for Men to give themselves to Pleasure . THou seest the Hills candied with Snow Which groaning Woods scarce undergo , And a stiff Ice those Veins Congeals which Branch the Plains . Dissolve the Frost with Logs pil'd up To th' Mantle-Tree ; let the great Cup Out of a larger Sluice Pour the reviving Juice . Trust Iove with other things ; when he The fighting Winds takes up at Sea , Nor speared Cypress shakes , Nor aged Elm-Tree quakes . Upon to Morrow reckon not , Then if it comes 't is clearly got : Nor being young despise Or Dancings , or Loves Joyes . Till testy Age gray Hairs shall snow Upon thy Head , lose Mask , nor Show : Soft whispers now delight At a set hour by Night : And Maids that gigle to discover Where they are hidden to a Lover ; And Bracelets or some toy Snatcht from the willing Coy . ODE X. To MERCURY . Argument . The Character of Mercury , His Eloquence , and Progeny : And various other Ornaments , Our Poet in this Ode presents . Mercuri facunde . SWeet-tongu'd Cyllenius , son of May , Who man 's first rudeness didst allay With Eloquence , and graceful parts Of wrastling Arts ; I 'le sing of thee , Heav'ns Messenger By whom crookt Lyres invented were : Crafty to hide what ere 's bereft By sportsome theft . While thee ( O youth ) his threats affray , Except thou his stoll'n Beefs repay : With no shaft-bearing Quiver fraught , Apollo laught . Rich Priam too deserting Troy , Th' proud Atreids scap'd with thy Convoy , Thessalian watches , and each tent 'Gainst Trojans bent . Thou in bless'd Mansions Ghosts imbowers , And thy Caducean Rod ' ore-powers Th' exiler Tribe ; whom Gods above , And lower love . ODE XI . By Sir T. H. To LEUCONOE . He exhorteth Leuconoe , that care omitted , she seek please her self , taking argument from the shortness life , and speed of death . STrive not ( Leuconoe ) to know what end The Gods above to thee or me will send : Nor with Astrologers consult at all , That thou may'st better know what can befall . Whether , thou liv'st more winters , or thy last Be this , which Tyrrhen waves 'gainst rocks do cast ; Be wise , drink free , and in so short a space , Do not protracted hopes of life embrace . Whilest we are talking , envious Time doth slide : This day 's thine own , the next may be deny'd . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , by S. W. To LEUCONOE . NEre strive Leuconoe , ne're strive to know What Fates decreed for thee and mee , nor goe To an Astrologer ; 't is half the cure , When Ill , to think it will not long endure : Whether Iove will another Winter give , Or whether 't is your last that now you live ; Be wise , and since you have not long to stay , Fool not with tedious hopes your life away . Time , while we speak on 't flyes ; now banish sorrow , Live well to day , and never trust to morrow . ODE XII . By Sir T. H. To AUGUSTUS . The Gods , Demy-Gods , and some worthy men honoured , he descendeth into the divine praises of Augustus . WHat man , or Hero ( Clio ) wilt thou praise With shrillest Pipe , or Lyra's softer layes ? What God ? whose name in sportive strain , Eccho will chaunt thee back again ? Either in shady Heliconian Bowers , High Pindus , or cold craggy Hemus Towers , Whence leavy Groves by heaps confus'd , To wait on tuneful Orpheus us'd ; Orpheus well skil'd from mothers artful lay , Swift rivers glide , and speedy winds to stay , And with his harps melodious song Attentive Okes to draw along . What shall I sing before the constant praise Of Father Iove , who Gods , and Mortals swayes ? Yea , Land , Sea , World extended wide With various seasons doth divide ? ●rom whom there nothing springs , greater than he : Like nothing lives , nor can a second be : Yet shall next honours Pallas grace , Though seated in a lower place . Nor will I , warlike Bacchus , let thee goe , Nor Dian , savage beasts eternal foe : Phoebus shall likewise have a part , Dreadful with unavoided dart . With Hercules I Leda's sons must name , Horse-service this , Foot-fight gives th' other Fame : Whose brighter starre , when first in skie , The wakeful Saylor doth descrie , Down from the rocks impetuous waters flow ; The winds surcease , the clouds dispelled goe : And threatning waves ( so the Twins will ) Upon the Oceans brow are still . These mention'd first , shall Romulus obtain The next record , or Numa's peaceful raign ? Shall I the power of Tarquins state , Or Cato's manly death relate ? Stout Regulus , the Scauri , Paulus , free Of his great soul in Canna's victory ; Or shall my grateful tongue rehearse Fabricius , in resplendent verse ? Who with the valiant Curius , rough in guise And hair uncomb'd , did with Camillus rise To high advancement , homely bred In their poor Grand-Sires lands , and Shed . Marcellus Fame is like a spreading Tree , Which groweth still , although insensibly : Each eye the Iulian Starre admires , As Cynthia 'mongst the lesser fires ▪ Great Father , and Protector of Man-kind From Saturn sprung , to thee the Fates assign'd The care of mighty Caesar ; Reign , And Caesar second place obtain . He whether in full triumph lead along The vanquish'd Parthians , who neer Latium throng . Or Seres , and swart Indians tame , That East-ward tremble at his name : He less , but , Just , the spacious world shall guide ; Heav'n-shaking , thou in thund'ring Chariot ride , And thy offended lightning cast On Groves , which harbour the unchaste . ODE XIII . By Sir R. F. To LYDIA . He complains that Telephus is preferr'd before him . THe Arms that Wax-like bend , And every henge when you commend , On which the Head doth turn Of Telephus , ah , how I burn ! Madness my mind doth rap , My Colour goes ; and the warm sap Wheesing through either Eye , Showes with what lingring Flames I frie. I frie ; when thy white hue Is in a Tavern brawl dy'd blew , Or when the sharp-set Youth Thy melting Kiss grinds with his Tooth . Believe 't , his love 's not sound That can such healing kisses wound ; Kisses which Venus hath Made supple in a Nectar bath . O their felicitie Whom a firm cord of love doth tie , Unbroke with wicked strife , And twisted with their threds of Life ! OED XIV . By Sir T. H. To the Commonwealth preparing afresh for Civil-war . O Ship , what do'st ? fresh storms again Will drive thee back into the Main ; Bravely recover Port , and shore . See'st not th' art destitute of Oar ? Swift South-west windes invade thy mast , Thy sail-yard cracks with every blast ? And cables scarce thy keel assure , Those surly billows to endure ? Thy sails are torn , and thou a thrall , No gods haste to invoke at all . Though Pontique Pine ( woods noble race ) Thou boast thy barren name and place ; The fearful Sailer ( dangers tride ) Doth not to painted ships confide : Take heed unless thou hast a minde To be a sport unto the winde . ( Oh my desire and greatest care , Earst horrour to my heart ) Beware , And flie in time chose shelfie Seas , Which run betwixt bright Cyclades . ODE XV. By Sir T. H. The Prophecy of Nereus concerning the destruction of Troy. WHen in Idaean ships the trecherous swain , With Hellen his Greek mistress crost the main , Nereus , that ●ll events he might presage , Becalm'd with lazy rest the swift windes rage . Thou her tak'st home with thee in an ill hower , Whom Greece shall fetch again with armed power , Conspiring to dissolve thy married state , And Priam's antient Kingdome ruinate . Alas ! what toil for horse , for men what pain , What direful funerals of Trojans slain . See , Pallas , helm and target doth provide , And will on her incensed Chariot ride . In vain grown insolent with Venus grace , Shalt thou thine hair dishevel , sleeke thy face : In vain shalt thou , on harps effeminate string , Soft tuned notes t' attentive women sing : In vain , thou in thy chamber shalt decline Sharp spears , and head of Cnossian javeline , Loud noise , and Ajax , nimble to pursue , Yet dust at last shall soil thy beauties hue . Do'st thou not Nestor , nor Ulysses mind , VVho for thy countries ruine art design'd ? On the undaunted Salaminius flies ; Thee Sthenelus provokes , who bears the prize Of armes , or horse to mannage with command 'Gainst thee likewise shall Meriones stand : Fell Diomedes stronger than his fire , For thee , with desp'rate fury shall enquire : Whom as an hart that doth neglect his food , Spying far off the wolf thirsty of blood , Thou faintly shalt , and almost breathless flie , Breaking thy vow to Hellen cowardly . Achilles wrathful Fleet the hour shall slack Of Phrygi●n matrons fall , and Ilium's wrack ; But Grecian fire in time determinate , Shall Trojan buildings burn , and dissipate . ODE XVI . By Sir T. H. To a Friend . He recants : For he asketh pardon of a Maid , whom had wounded with Iambicks , transferring the fault up anger , the un●rid ed force whereof he describeth . DAughter , than thy fair mother much more fair , On my Iambicks fraught with spiteful air , Do thou prescribe what doom thy self shalt please , Either of flames , or Adriatique seas . Not Dindymenian , nor the Pythian Priest , Are with such fury by their Gods possest ; Not Bacchus , nor the Corybantes so , VVhen on shrill brass they iterate their blow , As baneful anger , which not Norique armes , Nor the ship●wracking stormy Ocean charmes : Not furious fire , nor Iove himself on high , VVhen be with dreadful thunder rends the skie . 'T is said , Pr●me●heus , resolv'd to make M●n out of clay , did several parcels take Dissected cunningly from every beast , And put fierce lions wrath into our breast . Anger Thyestes into ruine cast , And unto cities ever was the last Cause , why they fell , and that proud foes were seen VVith hostile share to plough where walls had bee . Bridle thy self . Me likewise heat of blood Enrag'd in youth , and with distemper'd mood Into Iambicks hurri'd : Now I seek To change my rougher language into meek ; So wrongs recanted , thou more friendly be , And love reciprocal return to me . ODE XVII . To TYNDARIS . Argument . The Lyric Tyndaris invites Vnto Lucretile . Recites What profits and delights abound , And in what Climate may be found . Velox amaenum . FRom mount Lyaeus , to sweet Lucretile , Swift-footed Pan is flitting ev'ry while , And is still my Goats defence From storms , and Sols hot influence . Dams from their noisom leaders stray'd away , O're all the woods securely forrage may , Seeking Thyme and VVildings there ; Nor do the Kids infolded fear Green-speckled-snakes , nor wolfs to Mars assign'd . VVhere e'r vales ( Tyndaris ) and the steep inclin'd Mount Ustica's fleek Rocks bound , Again the Pipes harmonious sound . Me , Gods protect , and in my pietie , And Lyric-Muse , they much delighted be : Rural wealth here plenty grows , And with a bounteous horn o'r-flows . Here in Maeandrian-vale may'st thou decline The Dog-stars heat ; and chaunt in Teyan line Penelope , and Circe clear , VVho both for one man anxious were . Here may'st thou prostrate in a shadie bower ▪ Bolls of unnauseous Lesbian-wine devour : Nor shall Bacchus juice excite Thee to outragious brawls and fight . Nor shalt thou ' f jealous Cyrus fearful stand , Lest he o'r-lay thee with lascivious hand , Rending chaplets from thy crown , And undeserv'dly tear thy gow● ▪ ODE XVIII . By Sir R. F. To QUINTILIUS VARUS . That with moderate drinking of wine , the minde is exhilerated : with immoderate , quarrels begotten . OF all the trees , plant me the sacred Vine In Tybur's mellow fields , and let it climbe Cathyllus walls : for Iove doth cares propound To sober heads , which in full cups are drown'd . Of want , or war , who cries out after wine ? Thee father Bacchus , thee fair Erycine , Who doth not sing ? but through intemp'rate use , Least * Liber's gifts you turn into abuse , Think of the Centaures braul , fought in their Cans , With Lapithes : and to Sithonians Heavy Evous , when their heated blood Makes little difference betwixt what 's good , And what is not . No , gentle Bassareu , I will not force thee ; nor betray to view Thy vine-clad parts : suppress thy Thracian hollow , And dismal dynn : which blind self-love doth follow , And Glory-puffing heads with empty worth , And a Glass-bosome pouring secrets forth . ODE . XIX . Of GLYCERA . Argument . How beauteous Glycera infires His heart with amorous desires . Mater saeva . TYrannic Venus chargeth me , And Bacchus th' heir of Theban Semele , And wanton leisure bids me too , Extinguisht flames of Cupid to renew . Fair Glycer a inflames me sore , Than any Parian Marble glitt'ring more : Her pleasing coyness , and her face Is over-ru●nating for a gaze . The Q●een of love her Isle forsook , Falling sore on me , nor will Scythians brook , Nor stout back-darting Parthians For my Pens theam , nor unconcerning strains . Here ( servants ) green turf-altars rear , Vervains , and sacred Frankincense place here . A Boll of two-years wine , to these A victime slain , she will her ire appease . ODE XX. To MAECENAS . Argument . He prays Maecenas for a guest Unto a plain and homely feast . Vile potabis . THou 'st bouze cheap Sabine in small cup , Which in Greek Butt my self daub'd up : When Theaters with Ovations high Rang in the skie . Thy fames ( thou of Equestrian rank Maecenas ) that thy Tiber's bank , And the eccho toss'd thy praise again From th' Vaticane : Caecubian , and Calenian wines , Shall be thy drink . No Falern vines , Nor Grapes which crown the Formian knolls , Flow in my bolls . ODE XXI . By Sir T. H. Of Diana and Apollo . He exhorteth youths and virgins to sing forth their praises . YOu tender virgins , sound Diana's name , ( Boyes ) be your song youthful Apollo's fame , Latona likewise touch , By Iove affected much . ( Maids ) mention her , who loved rivers so , And woods which on cold Algidus do grow , On Erymant are spread ; Or Cragus verdant head . ( Boyes ) with your notes delightful Tempe grace , And Delos chaunt , Apollo's native place ; His shoulders , quiver-dight , And harp of heavenly might . He , with our prayers mov'd , shall banish far , Sharp hunger , pestilence , and direful war From Prince and people , to Persian , and British foe . ODE XXII . By Sir T. H. To ARISTIUS . Integrity of life is every where safe , which he proveth his own example . WHo lives upright , and pure of heart ( O Fuscus ) neither needs the dart , Nor bow , nor quiver , fraught with store Of shafts envenom'd by the Moor : Whether o're Libya's parched sands , Or Caucasus that houseless stands , He takes his journey ; or those places Through which the fam'd Hydaspes traces ▪ For ( careless ) through the Sabin grove , Whilest chaunting Lalage , I rove , Not well observing limits due , A wolf ( from me unarmed ) flew . A monster such as all exceeds , Which in huge words fierce Daunia feeds : Or those that Iuba's kingdome hath , The Desart-nurse of lions wrath . Place me in coldest Champanies , where No Summer warmth the trees do cheer : Let me in that dull Climate rest , Which clouds and sullen Iove infest : Yea place me underneath the Carre Of too near Phoebus : feared farre From dwellings : Lalage I le love , Whose smiles , whose words so sweetly move . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , By S. W. To FUSCUS ARISTIUS . THe just man needs nor Sword nor Bow , Those armes his fear , not safety show , Who better has for his defence Strong guards of innocence . For if along rough shoars he coast , Tempests and Seas on him are lost . Or if he Caucasus pass by , Tygers their rage deny . A wolf that croft me in my grove , As I walkt musing on my love Beyond my bounds , and no armes had , Was of my love afraid . Away he fled , though Dauma yields No greater monster in her fields : Though Africa which Lions breeds , None half so cruel feeds . Put me where never Summer breeze Kist the dull earth , or lifeless trees , In that skirt of the world , where show'rs Do number out the hours , Or place me in the Torrid Zone , Where never house or man was known , If there my Lalage but smile And sing , I le love the while . ODE XXIII . To CHLOE . Argument . CHloe adult : no cause now why She should from mens embracements fly . Vitas hinnuloe . Chloe , thou shunn'st me like a wanton Fawn Of tim'rous Dam forsook in pathless lawn ; Dreading with minde agast Ev'ry bush , and every blast . For as when Zephyrus trembling leaves doth shake , Or green-speckt Newts make bramble bushes quake , So tremulous is she , Dith'ring both in heart and knee : But I not to devour thee now pursue , As Afric Lions , and wild Tygers do . O leave thy Mother pray , Now grown ripe for Venus play . ODE XXIV . By Sir T. H. To VIRGIL . Who immoderately bewailed the death of Quintilius . MElpomene , whom Iove our Father daignes Shril voice apply'd to harps melodious strains , Tell in sad notes how far the bounds extend Of love , and shame unto so dear a friend ; Shall then in endless sleep Quintilius lie ? As equal unto whom , pure Modesty , And Justice ' sister , Faith sincere and plain ▪ Nor naked Verity shall ever gain ? Of many worthy men bemoan'd he fell , But ( Virgil ) no mans grief can thine excell . Thou ( loving ) dost ( alas ) the gods in vain Quintilius , not so lent thee , ask again . WHat if more sweet , than Thracian Orpheus wire , You trees perswade to hearken to your lyre ? Yet can you not , return of life command To shadow vain , which once with dreadful wand , God Mercury , unwilling Fate t' unlock , Hath forc'd to dwell among the Stygian flock . 'T is hard , I grant ; But patience makes that light , Which to correct , or change , exceeds our might . The same by Sir R. F. To VIRGIL . Who lamented immoderately the death of Quintilian . What shame , or stint in mourning ore So dear a Head ? Weep not but rore Melpomene , to whom thy Sire Gave a shrill voice , and twanging lyre . B●t does Quintilian sleep his last ? Whose Fellow , Modesty , and fast Faith , with her Sister Justice joyn'd And naked truth , when will they find ? Bewa●l'd by all good men , he 's gone : But then Thee Virgil , more by none . Thou begst back ( ah ! pious in vain ) Thee , not so lent , Quintilian . If sweeter then the Thracian Bard , Thou could'st strike tunes by dull Trees heard , The blood would never more be made To flow into the empty shade , Which Hermes with his horrid wand ( Inflexible to countermand Th' unevitable doom of Death ) Once drove to the black Flock beneath . 'T is hard : But Patience makes that less , Which all the World cannot redress . ODE XXV . To LYDIA . Argument . He Lydia sc●ffs for Aged look , And cause her Suiters her forsook . Parcius junctas . NOw froward youths rap not so sore At thy shut casements as before , To break thy sleep ; thy gates love much Their thresholds tou●h , Which wont so ' ft on glib hinges run : Thou' rt less and less now call'd upon ▪ Ho Lydia ! sleep'st all night while I Thy lover die ? Thou , an ag'd Quean , again shalt moan Thy scornful Paramours , all alone , In narrow lanes : while North-winds range 'Bout Phoebe's change : When fragrant love , and lustful flames , Such as infuriates Horses dams , Thy ulcer'd breast with rage impales , Not without wails : Cause youth likes verdant Ivy more , Than Myrtle almost sabled o'r : And gives to Heber's Wintry tide Boughs wither-dry'd . ODE XXVI . By Sir T. H. To his Muse concerning Aelius Lamia . It is not fit for the lovers of the Muses to be subject to ca●● and sadness . The Poet commendeth his Lamia to the Pimplean Muse. I , Who the Muses love , sadness , and fear Will to rought winds commit , that they may bear Them to the Cretique sea , careless , who swayes , And whom the far-North dweller most obeys : Or what doth great Tirridates affright . O my Pimplean Muse ( my hearts delight ; ) O thou who near pure Fountains ●ittest down , Wreath o'drous flowers for Lamia , wreath a crown . Little without thee worketh my applause : 'T is now become thine , and thy Sister's cause Him , with unused strains to celebrate , And with thy Lesbian lyre to consecrate . ODE XXVII . By Sir R. F. To his Companions . To his Companions feasting together , that they should 〈◊〉 quarrel in their drink , and fight with the Cups them●selves , after the manner of the Barbarians . WIth Goblets made for Mirth , to fight , 'T is barbarous : leave that Thracian rite , Nor mix the bashful blushing God Of Wine , with quarrels and with blood . A Cand-stick , and Quart-pot , how far , They differ from the Cymitar ? Your wicked noise Companions cease , And on your Elbows lean in peace . Would you have me to share th' austere Falernian liquor : Let me hear Megella's brother , by what eyes , Of what blest wound and shaft he dies . No! then will I not drink : whatever Venus tames thee , she toasts thy Liver With fires thou hast no cause to cover , Still sinning an ingenuous lover . Come , thou may'st lay it whatsoere It is , securely in my Ear. Ah wretch ! in what a Whirl-pool tane ? Boy worthy of a better flame , What Witch with her Thessalian Rod Can loose thee from those charmes ? What God ? Scarce Pegasus himself can thee From this three-shap'd Chimera free . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , by Dr. P ▪ VVHat ? Quarrel in your drink , my friends ? ye'abuse Glasses , and Wine , made for a better use . 'T is a Dutch trick ; Fie , let your brawling cease , And from your Wine and Olives learn both mirth and peace . Your swords drawn in a Tavern , whilest the hand That holds them shakes , and he that fights cann't stand , Sheath 'um for shame , embrace , kiss , so away , Sit down , and ply the business of the day . But I 'le not drink , unless T. S. declares Who is his Mistress , and whose wounds he wears . Whence comes the glance , from what sweet-killing-Eye , That sinks his Hope so low , and mounts his Muse so high ! Wilt thou not tell ? Drawer , what 's to pay ? If you 're reserv'd I 'le neither drink nor stay : Or let me go , or out w'it ; she must be Worth naming , sure ; whose Fate it was to conquer thee : Speak softly , — She ! forbid it Heaven above ! Unhappy youth ! unhappy in thy love ; Oh how I pity thy Eternal pain ! Thou never can'st get loose , thou never canst obtain ; Le ts talk no more of love , my friends , le ts drink again . ODE XXVIII . By Sir T. H. Architas , a Philosopher , and Geometrician , is presented , answering to a certain Mariner , that all wen must die , and intreating him , that he would not suffer his body to lie on the shore unburied . THe poor gift of a little dust , confines , And neer unto the Matine shore enshrines Thee , now ( Architas ) who could'st measure well The Sea , the Earth , and Sands , which none can tell . Nor could it any help , or profit be , Death being ready still to seize on thee ; Those airy mansions to have sought from hence , And oft survey'd the Heavens circumference . The fire of Pelops , who with gods did feast , And aged Tython , shrunk at Deaths arrest : And Minos , to Ioves counsels call'd , was slain , And Panthois di'de , sent down to Hell again ; Though by the shield pull'd down , he proving well That his First-birth in Trojane ages fell , Affirm'd , that Death nought kill'd , but nerves & skin : ( No man in Natures power was better seen : ) But we into one self-same night do fall , And must the paths of Death tread once for all . The Furies some to games of Mars apply , The greedy sailer drench'd in sails doth lie . In death both young and old , by heaps do joyn ; Nor any head escapes sad Proserpine . Me , the South-wind , crooked Orion's Mate O're-whelmed in Illyrian waves of late : But ( gentle Friend ) be pleas'd now I am dead , In loose sands to interre my bones , and head . Which done ( so thou be safe ) may th' Eastern-wind , Which stirs Hesperian billows , be assign'd To bluster lowdly in Venusium woods : And may on ev'ry side , thy traffiqu'd goods In plenty flow to thee from Ioves just hand , And Neptune , who Tarentum doth command : But if this fault of thine shall seem but slight , ( Which may upon thy harmless issue light ) I wish due punishment and proud neglect , May on thy funeral Obsequies reflect : Nor shall my prayers be poured forth in vain , Nor vows have strength to set thee free again . Yet if thou haste , no longer stay I crave , But thrice to throw the dust upon my Grave . ODE XXIX . by Sir T. H. To ICCIUS . It is a strange thing , that Iccius the Philosopher intermitting his Studies , should become a man at Armes , out of the love of money . ICcius , thou now the Arabs dost envy Their golden treasure , and to warrs dost hie , 'Gainst the Sabean Kings unvanquished , And nets prepar'st to snare the horrid Mede . What Captive Damsel her beloved slain Shall serve thee now ? What youth of noble strain Shall now annointed , on thy Cup attend , Prompt , from his fathers Bow swift-shafts to send ? Who can deny but falling Rivers may Run up steep hills , and Tyber backward stray : When thou Panetius books on all sides sought , And house of Socrates , where arts were taught , Do'st into Steely Spanish armes translate , With promise to thy self of better state . ODE XXX . To VENUS . Argument . He implores Venus to refrain Her Cyprus , and her presence daign At Glyc'ras consecrated Fane . O Venus regina . O Cnide's and Paphos Queen , At Cyprus be less gracious seen : To Glyc'ras beauteous Temple go , Where odours flow . Take with thee Cupid , ungirt graces , The agile Nymphs with their swift paces , Iuventas sullen without thee , And Mercurie . ODE XXXI . By Sir R. F. To APOLLO . He askes not riches of Apollo , but that he may have a sound mind in a sound body . WHat does the Poet Phoebus pray , In his new Fane ? what does he say , Pouring sweet liquor from the cup ? Not give me fat Sardinia's crop . Not hot Calabria's goodly Kye : Not Gold , and Indian Ivory : Not Fields which quiet Liris laves , And eats into with silent waves . Proyne , They that have them , Massick Vines : In Golden Goblets carowse Wines , The wealthy Merchant , which he bought With Merchandise from Syria brought , The Minion of the Gods : as he That in one year the Altantick Sea Three or four times , unpunish'd past . Mine Olives , Endive my Repast , And Mallows light . Latona's Son , In Minde and Bodies health my own T' enjoy ; old Age from dotage free , And solac'd with the Lute , give me . The same by Sir T. H. WHat doth thy Poet ask ( Phoebus divine ; ) What craves he , when he pours the bowles of wine ? Not the rich corn of fat Sardinia , Nor fruitful Flocks of burnt Calabria , Nor gold , nor Indian ivorie ; nor the grounds , Which silent Lyris with soft stream arrounds . Let those whom Fortune so much store assigns , Prune with Calenian hook their fertile vines : Let the rich Merchant to the Gods so dear , ( For so I term him right , who every year , Three , or four times , visits the Atlantique seas From shipwrack free : ) Let him his palate please ; And in guilt bowls drink wines of highest price , Bought with the sale of Syrian Merchandice . Loose Mallows , Succorie , and Olive-plant Serve me for food . O ( great Apollo ) grant To me in health , and free from life's annoy , Things native , and soon gotten to enjoy ; And with a mind compos'd old Age attain , Not loathsome , nor depriv'd of Lyrick strain . ODE XXXII . To his Lyre . Argument . He bids his Lyre still ready be To chear him up with Melody . Poscimus si quid . WE beg , if we supinely lane , In shrouds with thee play'd ere a strain Worth Fame's Record , ô Lyre display In Latine Lay : On which A●caeus first resounded , Who ( though with Mars fierce broyls surrounded , Or that his shatter'd sail he ty'd To th' Ocean side . ) Of Liber , Muses , Venus sung , And th' youth that alwayes to her clung , And Lycus for black eyes and hair , Of presence rare . O Lyre , Apollo't ornament , Yielding Ioves banquets blest content , My toils sweet solace , hail while I Unto thee cry . ODE XXXIII . To ALBIUS TIBULLUS . Argument . He Albius wills not lay 't to heart , Though undeservedly on his part , Curst Glycera respecteth more His Rival , and Competitour . Albi , ne doleas . ALbius , not too excessively condole Harsh Glycera's unkindness : neither howl Out mournful Elegies , though thy junior be Perfidiously preferr'd to thee . Lycoris , fam'd for narrow fore-head , burns For Cyrus love ; and Cyrus , loe he turns Unto coy Pholoe : But e'r Pholoe erre With that all-base Adulterer , Goats with Apulian wolfs shall copulate : So Venus , and dire Cupid please , who mate Unequal forms , and diff'rent mindes together Within a Brasen yoke and Tether . But when a fairer Mistress courted me , Myrtle me held in sweet captivity , A Libertine , more fierce than Adrian Seas , Which crooktly 'bout Calabria preaze . ODE XXXIV . By Sir R. F. To himself . Repenting that having followed the Epicureans , he had been little studious i● worshipping the Gods. I' That have seldome worshipt Heaven , As to a mad Sect too much giv'n , My former wayes am forced to balk , And after the old light to walk . For Cloud-dividing , lightning - Iove , Through a clear Firmament late drove His thrundring Horses , and swift wheels : With which supporting Atlas reels : With which Earth , Seas , the Stygian Lake , And Hell , with all her Furies quake . It shook me too . God pulls the Proud From his high Seat , and from their Cloud Draws the obscure : Levels the hills , Aud with their Earth the vallies fills : 'T is all he does , he does it all : Yet this , blind Mortals Fortune call . ODE XXXV . By Sir. T. H. To Fortune . He beseecheth her , that she would preserve Caesar going into Britany . O Goddess , which beloved Antium swayes , Still ready with thy powerful Arm to raise Men , from the low degree of wretched thrals , Or turn proud Triumphs into Funerals ; The poor and rustick Clown with humble plea Solicites thee : The Lady of the Sea He loudly invocates , who ere doth sweep In Asian vessel the Carpathian Deep . The Dacian rough , the wandring Scythian , Kingdomes and Cities ; the fierce Latian : Thee Mothers of Barbarian Kings do fear , And Tyrants , which bright Purple garments wear . Let not a standing Pillar be o'rethrown By thy offended foot : Nor be it known , That troops of Warlike people now at rest ; Take Armes again , and Empire's peace infest . Still , sharp Necessitie before thee goes , Holden in Brazen hand , ( as pledge of woes ) Tormenting beams , and wracks : and more to daunt , Sharphooks , and molten lead do never want . Thee , Hope , and simple Faith in white attire , Much honour , and thy company desire ; How e're thou do'st another habit take , And made a Foe to Great Men , them forsake . But the false Multitude , and perjur'd Whore Retireth back : yea friends , when vessel's store Is to the dregs drunk up , away do flie , Shunning the yoke of mutual povertie ; Preserve thou Caesar safe , we thee implore , Bound to the worlds remotest Brittan shore , And those new Troops of youth , whose dreadful sight , The East and ruddie Ocean doth affright . Fie on our broyles , vile Acts , and Brothers fall . Bad Age ! what mischief do we shun at all ? What youth , his hand for fear of Gods contains ? Or who from sacred Altar's spoil refrains ? Ah! rather let 's dull swords new forge , and whet Against th' Arabian and the Massaget . ODE XXXVI . To POMPONIUS NUMIDA . Argument . Our Lyrick joy'd , exults amain For Numida's return from Spain . Et thure , & fidibus . VVIth Frankincense and Lyric Lay , And bullocks justly slaughter'd , let 's allay Great Numid's tutelary gods : Who safe arriv'd from Spains remot'st abodes , Gave's dear friends many a-kiss-salute , But to sweet Lamia most did distribute : Remembring how both served all Their youthful dayes under one General . And both their gowns together quit , This beauteous day sign with a Chalky smit : Let vast Wine-rundlets freely spout , And Salian like incessant skip about , Nor more let soaking Dam'lis bouze , Than Bassus in a Thracian carrouze . Let Roses , Parsley ever green , And fading Lillies much at feasts be seen . All shall their eyes with Lust infested On Dam'lis cast , nor Dam'lis be wrested From her new Paramour , who combine Closer than any amorous Ivies twine . ODE XXXVII . By Sir T. H. To his Companions . Whom he exhorteth to be merry upon the Newes of the Actiaque victory . NOw let us drink , now dance ( Companions ) now , Let 's Salian banquets to the Gods allow . It might before this time be thought a sin , To broach old Caecube wines , whilst the mad Queen Prepar'd the ruine , and disastrous fall , Both of the Empire and the Capitoll , With her ●cabb'd Troop of men effeminate , Proud with vast hopes , & drunk with prosp'rous state : But the scarce safety of one ship from fire Less'ned ●er fury , whilst great Caesars ire To real fears enforc'd her to resign Her minde enrag'd with Mareotique wine , He pressed with swift vessels to enchain This monster , flying Italy amain : As Hawk the fearful Dove , or Hunter swift Pursues the Hare th'row Aemon's snowie drift : Whilst she , that she might die the nobler way , Did neither as a woman fear the ray Of brandish'd sword , nor laboured to flie , With speedy flight in secret nooks to lie : But with an eye serene , and courage bold , Durst her dejected Palaces behold , Handle the hissi●g Adder and the Snake , And in her body their black poyson take ; Made the more fierce by death determined , She ( Noble Spirit ) scorned to be led In hostile vessels , as a private thrall , To fill proud triumphs with her wretched fall , ODE XXXVIII . To his Servant , Argument . He wills his Servant , rooms be dre●● With Myrtle onely at his Feast , Persicos odi . SErvant , all Persian pomp disdain , From Teyl-rinde pleated Crowns refrain ▪ Cease further scrutiny where grows The ●ardy Rose , For nothing but plain Myrtles care , They most beseeming Servants are : And for my self too , tipling laid In Vine-tree shade . The end of the First Book . ODES . BOOK II. ODE 1. By Sir R. F. To C. ASINIUS POLLIO . He exhorts him to intermit a while his writing of Tragedies , until he have finisht his History of the Civil War of Rome ; Then extolls that Work. THE Civil War from the first seeds , The Causes of it , Vices , Tides Of various Chance , and our prime Lords Fatal Alliance , and the Swords Sheath'd , but not yet hung up , and oyl'd , The Quarrels fully reconcil'd : Thou writ'st a work of hazard great , And walk'st on Embers in deceit● Full Ashes rak't . Let thy severe Tragical Muse a while fo● bear The Stage : This publick Task then done , Thy Buskins high again put on , Afflicted Clients grand support And light to the consulting Court : Whom thy Dalmatick triumph crown'd With deathless Bayes . Hark how the sound Of thy brac'd Drums , awakes old fears , Thy Trumpets tingle in our ears : How clattering armes make the Horse shog , And from the Horse-man's face the blood . Now , now amidst the Common Heard See the great Generals fight , besmear'd With glorious dust : and quel'd the whole World , but unconquer'd Cato's Soul ! Iuno , and whatsoever Gods , To Affrick Friends , yielded to th'odds Of Rome ; the Victors Grandsons made A Sacrifice to Iugurth's shade . What Field , manur'd with Daunian blood Shews not in Graves , our impious Feud , And the loud crack of Latiums fall , Heard to the Babylonian wall ? What lake , what river 's ignorant Of the sad war ? what Sea with paint Of Latine slaughter , is not red ? What land 's not peopled with our dead ? But wanton Muse , least leaving Toyes , Thou should'st turn Odes to Elegies , Let us in Dioneian Cell Seek matter for a lighter Quill . ODE II. By Sir R. F. To C. SALUSTIUS CRISPUS . First , he praises P. for his liberality to his brothers : Then shews , that he who can repress his appetite , and despise money , is onely a King , onely happy . SAlust , thou enemy of gold , Mettles , which th' earth hath hoarded , Mould , Until with moderate exercise Their colour rise . No Age the name of Pontius smothers , For being a Father to his Brothers : Surviving Fame on towring wings His bounty sings . He that restrains his covetous soul , Rules more , then if he should controul Both Land and Sea ; and adde a West-Indies to th' East . The cruel Dropsie grows , self-nurst , The thirst not quencht , till the cause first Be purg'd the veins , and the faint humour Which made the tumour . Vertue , that reves what Fortune gave , Calls crown'd Phraates his Wealth 's slave , And to the Common People teaches More proper speeches . Giving a Scepter , and sure Throne , And unshar'd Palmes to him alone , That ( unconcerned ) could behold Mountains of Gold. ODE III. By Sir R. F. To DELLIUS . That the minde should not be cast down with adversity , 〈◊〉 puft up with prosperity : But that we should live merrily , since the condition of dying is equal to all . KEep still an equal minde , not sunk With stormes of adverse chance , not drunk With sweet Prosperitie , O Dellius that must die , Whether thou live still melancholy , Or stretcht in a retired valley ; Make all thy howers merry With bowls of choicest Sherrie . Where the white Poplar and tall Pine , Their hospitable shadow joyn , And a soft purling brook , With wrigling stream doth crook ; Bid hither Wines and Oyntments bring , And the too short sweets of the Spring , Whilst wealth and youth combine , And the Fates give thee Line . Thou must forgoe thy purchas'd seats , Ev'n that which golden Tyber wets , Thou must ; and a glad Heir Shall revel with thy care . If thou be rich , born of the Race Of antient Inachus , or base Lieft in the street ; all 's one , Impartial death spares none . All go one way : shak'd is the pot , And first or last comes forth thy lot , The Pass , by which thou' rt sent T' Eternal banishment . ODE IV. By Sir R. F. To XANTHIA PHOCEUS . That he need not be ashamed of being in love with a Serving-maid : for that the same had befaln many a Great Man. TO love a Serving-Maid's no shame ; The white Briseis did enflame Her Lord Achilles , and yet none Was prouder known ▪ Stout Telamonian Ajax prov'd His Captives Slave ; A●rides lov'd In midst of all his Victories , A Girl his prize : When the Barbarian side went down , And Hect●●s death rendred the Town Of Troy , more easie to be carried By Grecians wearied . Know'st thou from whom fair Phillis springs ? Thou may'st be son in law to Kings ; She mourns , as one depos'd by Fate From regal state . Believe 't she was not poorly born : Phoceus , such Faith , so brave a scorn Of tempting riches , could not come From a base womb . Her face , round armes , and every lim I praise unsmit . Suspect not him , On whose loves wild-fire Age doth throw Its cooling Snow . ODE V. Upon Lalage . Argument . Since beauteous Lalage's unfit For Hymens rites , or Venus yet ; He will with Continency's reign , All wild Concupisence restrain . Nondum Subacta . AS yet with neck subdu'd she cannot ' bide The yoke , nor answer th' office of a bride ; Nor sustain the eagerful , Fierce rushes of a pondrous bull . Thy heifer 'bout the Verdant medows roves ; Sometimes in brooks t' allay her thirst she loves ; And sometimes she 's much rejoyc'd To sport with Calves 'mongst Sallows moyst . Restrain all longing for Grapes immature : Straight gaudie Autumn deckt in Purple pure . Will to thee ripe clusters send , Straight she thy foot-steps will attend . For fleet-heel'd Time with rapid motion flows , And years subtracted from thy date bestows On her . Straight with brazen brow Will Lalage a husband wooe . More lov'd than Cloris , or nice Pholoe : Her candid shoulders glittering , like the Sea In the night with Moon-shine dy'd ; Or Gyges sprung from th' Isle of Cnide : Whom if thou rank'st among the Virgin Fyle , His scarce-spy'd differnce eas'ly might beguile Quick-ey'd strangers , for his Grace Of shev'led hair , and dubious face . ODE VI. By Sir T. H. To SEPTIMIUS . He wisheth Tybur and Tarentum may be the seal of hi● old age , whose sweetness he praiseth . SEptimius , ready bent , with me Rude Cantabers , or Gades to see , And those inhospitable Quick-sands , where The Moorish seas high billows rear . Tybur , which th' Argives built ( O may ) That be the place of my last day : May it my limit be , of ease From journeys , warfare , and rough seas . But if the Sister-Fates deny , I 'le to rich fleec'd Galesus hie , And thence down to Tarentum stray , Earst subject to Phalantus sway . That tract of land best pleaseth me , Where not Hymettia's full fraught Bee Yields better honey , and where grow Olives , that equal Venafro ; Where the middle air yields gentle frost , And a long Spring-tide warms the coast , And Aulon fertile in rich vines , Envieth not Falernian wines . That place , with all those fruitful hills , Me with desire of thee fulfils : There let thy due-paid tears descend O're the warm ashes of thy friend . ODE VII . To POMPEIUS VARUS . Argument ▪ He gratulates that Pompey scome In safety to his Native home . O saepe mecum . O' Thou reduc't oft to extremest thrall With me , when Brutus was our General ; Who to Latiums liberty , And Rural Lars restored thee Pompey my chief'st associate ? with whom I Oft many long-day drunk Wine copiously , My bright hair with unguents fill'd , From rich Malobathrum distill'd . I with thee bare th' brunt of Philps Field , And flying basely flung away my shield , When those foil'd souldiers swell'd With boasts , to blood-drencht earth were fell'd ; Pay Iove then thy vow'd Junckets , and repose Thy limbs out-tir'd with warfare's tedious woes Under my Bay-shroud , nor spare What hogsheads for thee destin'd are . Let polisht Goblets freely flow about , With mem'ry-thralling Massick wines : teem out Sweet Oyles from capacious cup : Who strives to pleat a chaplet up Of Mirtle , or moist Parsley ? Who 's the guest , Venus-throw signs Controller of the feast ? I 'le play Thracian : pleas'd amain To rant , my friend return'd again . ODE VIII . By Sir R. F. To BARINE . That there is no reason why he should believe her when she swears : for the Gods revenge not the perjuries of hansome women . IF any punishment did follow Thy perjurie : if but a hollow Tooth , or a speckled nail , thy vow Should pass . But thou , When thou hast bound thy head with slight Untwisting oaths , are fairer by 't : And like a Comet spread'st thy rayes , The publick gaze , It boots thee to deceive the Ghost Of thy dead Mother , and still boast Of Heav'n with their eter● aboads , And deathless gods . Venus but laughs at what is done , Her easie nymphs , and cruel son , On bloodie whetstone grinding ever His burning quiver . New suitors daily are inrol'd , New servants come , nor do the old Forsake their impious Mistress dore , Which they forswore . Thee Mothers for their Fillies dread , Thee gripple , Sires , and Wives new wed , Least thy bewitching breath should fray Their Lords away . ODE IX . By Sir T. H. To VALGIUS . That now at length he would desist to deplore his deceased Myste . THe swelling Cloud , not alwayes powres On rugged Fields , impetuous showres : Nor Caspian Sea ( Valgius belov'd ) With boystrous stormes , is ever mov'd : Nor on Armenia's bordring shore , Dull Isicles stand alwayes hore : Or garden-groves with North-windes riv'd , Or are Ash-trees of leaves depriv'd . You still in mournful sort complain , That death hath your dear Myste slain ; Your love sets not , if Vesper rise , Nor when from Phoebus , Hesper flies : But thrice-ag'd N●stor did not still , Tears , for Antilochus distill : Nor Parents , nor sad Sisters , ever To wail young Troilus persever . Cease then at length thy soft complant , And in our songs , now let us paint Great Caesars Trophies , and command , And how conjoyn'd to conquer land , The Median stream , and Nyphate strong , In lesser channels run along , And Gelons to less limits tide , In far more straightned Fields do ride . ODE X. By Sir R. F. TO LICINIUS . That Mediocrity , and Equality of the Mind , in both Fortunes , are to be retained . THe safest way of life , is neither To tempt the Deeps , nor whilest foul weather You fearfully avoid , too near The shore to steer . He that affects the Golden Mean , Will neither want a house that 's clean , Nor swell unto the place of showres His envy'd Towres : The tempest doth more often shake Huge Pines : and loftie Turrets take The greatest falls : and Thunder lops The mountain tops . A mind which true proportion bears , In adverse hopes , in prosperous fears The other lot . Iove Winters brings , And Ioves give Springs , It may be well , if now 't is ill : Sometimes Apollo with his Quill , Wakes his dull Harp , and doth not ever Make use of 's Quiver . In boystrous Fortune ply thy Oar , And using it stoutly to the shore ; Contract in too auspicious Gales Thy swelling sails . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , by S. W. WOuld you a constant Fortune keep Licinius ? Trust not the false Deep ; And though black stormes begin to roar , As little trust the shore . The man who loves the golden mean , Has his Herth neat , and house swept clean : Below't , he envies not the Court , Above 't , he cares not for 't . Winds oft'nest tear the lofty Pine , While its low growth defends the Vine ; Huge Piles in greatest ruines fall , And Thunder levels all . A gallant brest hope● well at worst , A change will come , though 't be long first ; And when 't is come , he fears the best , And dare not think of rest . This Heav'n will teach us every year , Winter has Summer in the rear ; And when the Ebbe doth run most low , The Tide ere long will flow . Though 't is bad now , 't will soon be spent , Apollo's Bow 's not alwayes bent , But sometimes he 'l the Muse bid sing , And touch a better string . When Fates are cross , then courage show , Be wise when gales more prosperous blow ; Strike sail , and put not too far out , The Wind may turn about . ODE XI . By Sir T. H. To QUINTUS HIRPINUS . Cares laid aside , let us live merrily . WHat the Cantalrian stout , or Scythian think , Divided from us by rough Adria's brink , ( Quintus Hirpinus ) do not thou enquire , Nor for life's use , which little doth desire , Be too solicitous . Sleek youth , apace Hast's hence away , and with it beauties grace , Dry-aged hoariness which furrows deep Dispelling amorous fires , and gentle sleep . The Summer Flowers keep not their Native grace ▪ Nor shines the bright Moon , with a constant face . Why dost thou vex thy minde , subordinate Unto the counsels of Fernal Fate ? Why under this high Plain , or Pine-trees shade In discomposed manner , careless laid Anoint not we , and then to drink prepare ? Free Bacchus dissipates consuming care . But ( oh ) what Boy Falernian wine's hot rage , Will soon for me , with Fountain streams asswage ? Or , who will Lyde wish from close retire Hlther to come ? Boy , with her Ivory lire Bid her make haste , and like Laconian maids Tie her neglected hair in careless braids . ODE XII . TO MAECENAS . Argument . Dire wars , and Tragick subjects , they Incongruous are for Lyric lay . Ly●●m●●ia's splendour Horace sings , And such like amatorious things . Nolis longa . NOtedirous Wars on sierce Numantia's plain , Nor hardy Hannibal , nor Scicilian main , Purpled with Carthaginian blood , desire Be warbled on soft Lyric wire : Nor barbarous Lapiths , nor the liquor-swell'd Hyleus , nor whom Alcides prowess quell'd , That brood of earth , whose dismal terrour made Ag'd Saturns glorious house afraid . But thou ( Maecenas ) in the looser stile Of an Historian , better canst compile Great Caesars acts , and threatful Princes shown Chain'd by the necks along the Town . My Muse would treat of those melodious layes Of thy dear Ladies , sweet Lycimnia's : And of her clear refulgent eyes , and breast With Flames of faithful love possest : Whom neither dancing postures mis-became , Nor jestful skirmish , nor in sportive game Fair virgins with incircling armes t' inthral , On famous Dians festival . Would'st for the wealth rich Achaemenes ows , Or all the riches fertile Phrygia shows , Or th' Arabs houses which well furnisht are , Exchange thy dear Lycimnia's hair ? While she for kisses wreaths her neck awry , Or doth with gentle cruelty deny What , then her love , she rather covets t'ane : Straight she 'l a●t●cipate again . ODE XIII . By Sir R. F. To a Tree , by whose fall in his Sabine Villa , he was like to have been slain . That no man can sufficiently understand what to avoid : From thence he slides into the praises of Sappho and Alcaeus . A Planter with a ( ● ) was he That with unhallowed hand set thee , A trap for the succeeding race , And ignominy of the place . He might as well have hang'd his Sire , Or practis'd all the Poysons dire Medea temper'd , or have shed His Guests blood sleeping in his bed : Or if a worse crime may be found , As to place thee upon my ground , Unlucky wood ; thee , stagg'ring trunk , To brain thy Master when th' art drunk . No man knows truly what to shun ; The Punick Sea-man fears to run Upon some Shelf , but doth not dread Another Fate over his head : The Souldier , Shafts , and Parthian fight : The Parthian chains and Roman might . But Death had still , and still will have , A thousand back-wayes to the grave . How near was I Hells Jaundied Queen , And Minos on the Bench t' have seen , And the describ'd Elysian shades ? And Sappho , of her Countrey-maids Complaining on Aeolian wire ? And the Alcaeus , with gold lyre In fuller notes thundring a Fight , Ratling a storm , fluttring a flight ? Both ( worthy of a sacred pawse ) The pious Ghosts hear with applause : But most the Fights , and Tyrants fears , The shouldring throng drink with their ears . What wonder , when th' infernal hound , With three heads , listens to that sound : The Furies snakes their curles unknit , Nor finde revenge so sweet as ●t . 'T is Play-day too , with Pelop's sire , And him that stole from heaven the fire . Orion ev'n his hunting leaves , And greater pleasure thence receives ▪ ODE XIV . By Sir R. F. To POSTHUMUS . That Death cannot be avoided . AH Posthumus ? the years of man Slide on with winged pace , nor can Vertue reprieve her friend From wrinkles , age , and end . Not , though thou bribe with daily blood Stern Dis , who with the Stygian Flood Doth Gerion surround , And Titius Acres bound . Sad Flood , which we must ferry all That feed upon this earthly ball , From the King to the poor Beggar that howls at door . In vain avoid we Mars's fury , And breaking waves that kill and bury : In vain the sickly falls , Fruitful of funerals . Visit we must the sootie shore Of dull Cocytus , th' empry store Of Daunus wicked stock . And Sisyphs restless rock . Thou must forgoe thy lands and goods , And pleasing wife : Nor of thy woods Shall any follow thee , But the sad Cypress-tree . Thy worthy heir shall then carowse Thy hoarded wines , and wash the house With better Sack , then that Which makes the Abbots fat . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , by S. W. 1. Time ( Posthumus ) goes with full sail , Nor can thy honest heart avail A furrow'd brow , old age at hand , Or Death unconquer'd to withstand : One long night , Shall hide this light From all our sight , And equal Death Shall few dayes hence , stop every breath . 2. Though thou whole Hecatomb's should'st bring In honour of th' Infernal King , Who Geryon and Tytio bold , In chaines of Stygian waves doth hold : He 'l not prize , But more despise Thy sacrifice : Thou Death must feel , 'T is so decre'd by the Fatal Wheel . 3. The numerous Off-spring of the Earth , That feed on her who gave them birth ; Each birth must have its funeral , The Womb and Urn's alike to all : Kings must die , And as 〈◊〉 , As thou or I ; And though they have Atchievements here , there 's none in th' Grave . 4. In vain we bloody battles flie , Or fear to sail when wines are high ; The Plague or an infectious breath , When every hour brings a new Death . Time will mowe What e're we sow ; Both weal and woe Shall have an end , And this th' unwilling Fates must send . 5. Cocytus lake thou must waft o're , Thy totter'd boat shall touch that shore ; Thou Sisypus ere long must know , And into new acquaintance grow : Shalt with life , Leave house and wife , Thy loves and strife , And have no tree , But the sad Cypress follow thee . 6. Mean while thy heir shall nobly quaffe , What thou with hundred locks kept't safe , Caecuhan wines , and wash the Flore With juice would make an Emperor rore : 'T will be thy lot , Question it not , To be forgot With all thy deeds , E're he puts on his Mourning weeds . ODE XV. By Sir R. F. Against the Luxury of his Age. OUr Princely piles will shortly leave But little lands for ploughs to cleave ; Ponds out-stretch Lucrine shores , Unmarried Sycamores Supplant the Elmes . The Vi'let , Rose , With all the junkets of the Nose , Perfume the Olive-yards , Which fed their former Lords : And Daphne twists her limbs to shun Tne sons rude Courtship . Not so done By Cato's Precedent , And the old Regiment . Great was the Commonwealth alone , The private small . No wide Balcon Measur'd with private square Gap'd for the Norths cool air . Nor the next turf might men reject ; Bid at the Publick Charge t' erect Temples and Towns , alone , Of beautiful new stone . ODE XVI . By Sir R. F. To GROSPHUS . That tranquillity of the mind is wisht by all : But that the same is not purchased by heaping up Riches , or obtaining Honours , but by bridling the desires . QUiet ! the trembling Merchant cries , Into Egean seas driven far ; When the Moon winks , and he descries No guiding st●● . Quiet ! in War the T●raian bold ; Quiet ! the Medes with quivers dight ; Not to be bought with gems , nor gold , Nor purple bright . For 't is not wealth , nor armed troops , Can tumults of the mind remove , And cares , which about fretted roofs Hover above . His little 's much , whose thrifty board Slunes with a salt that was his sires : W●ose easie sleeps nor fears disturb , Nor base desires . Why in short life eternal care ? Why changing for another Sun ? Who , having shun'd his Native air , Himself could shun ? Take horse , rude Care will ride behind ; Embarque , unto thy ship she crouds : Fl●●ter them Stags , and the East-wind Chasing the Clouds , Let minds of any joy possest , Sweeten with that whatever gall Is mixt : No soul that ere was blest , Was blest in all . The fam'd Achilles timeless dy'd , Old Tyth●n did his bliss out-live , And Chance , what she to thee deny'd , To me may give . A hundred flocks about thee bleat , And fair Sicilian heifers low ; To thee large neighing Mares curvete : In scarlet thou , Twice-dipt , are clad . Indulgent fate Gave me a Graunge ; a versing vein ; A heart which ( injur'd ) cannot hate , But can disdain . ODE XVII . by Sir R. F. To MAECENAS sick . That he will not live after him . WHy dost thou talk of dying so ? Neither the Gods , nor I 'm content , Maecenas , that thou first shouldst go , My Pillar and great Ornament . If thee , the one half of my soul , A riper fate snatch hence : alas ! What should I stay for , neither whole , And but the dregs of what I was ? That day shall end us both : Come , come , I 've sworn't ; and will not break it neither : March when thou wilt to thy long home , That journey we will make together . Chimaera's flames , nor ( were he rise Again ) Briareus hundred hands , Should keep me back . 'T is justice , this : And in the Book of fate it stands . Were I or under Libra born , Or Scorpio my ascendant be With grim aspect , or Capricorn ( The Tyrant of the Latian sea : ) Our stars do wondrously consent . Benigner Iove repriev'd thy breath When Saturn was malevolent , And clipt the hasty wings of Death , In frequent Theater when thee Thrice the rejoycing people clapt , A falling Trunk had brained me , Between if Faunus had not slept , The guardian of Mercurial men . Pay thou an ample sacrifice , And build the Chappel thou vowd'st then ; For me an humble Lamkin dies . ODE XVIII . By Sir T. H. He affirmeth himself to be contented with a little , while others are wholly addicted to their desires , and increase of riches , as if they should alwayes live . NO guided roof , nor Ivory Fret , For splendor in my house is set ; Nor are beams from Hymettia sought , To lie a-thwart rich Colmns , brought From Africk ; nor I heir unkown , Make Attalus his wealth , mine own . No honest Tenants wives you see , Laconian purples weave for me : A loyal heart , and ready vain Of wit I have , which doth constrain Rome's richest men to seek the love Of me , though poor : Nor gods above Doe I invoke for larger store ; Nor of Maecenas ask I more . To me my single Sabine field , Sufficient happiness doth yield . One day thrusts on another fast , And new Moons to the wane do hast . When Death ( perhaps ) is neer at hand , Thou fairest Marbles dost command Be cut for use , yet dost neglect Thy grave , and houses still erect : Nay would'st abridge the vast Seas shore , Which loudly doth at Baiae rore : Enriched little , less content , With limits of the Continent . Why often pull'st thou up the bounds , T' enlarge the circuit of thy grounds , Encroaching far from Confines known , To make the neigbouring field thine own ? The husband , wife , and sordid brood , With antient houshold gods , that stood In quiet peace , must be expell'd : Yet is not any Mansion held For the rich Land-lord , so assur'd , As deep in Hell to be immur'd . Then whither do you further tend ? Th' indiffrent earth an equal friend , As willingly opens her womb , For Beggars grave , as Princes tomb . Gold could of Charon not obtain , To bear Prometheus back again . Proud Tantalus , and all his stock , Death , with the bands of fate doth lock : And call'd , or not call'd ready stands , To free the poor from painful bands . ODE XIX . Upon BACCHUS . Argument . He fill'd with Bacchus power , assayes T' ebuccinate his fame and praise . Bacchum in remotis . ON Rocks remote I Bacchus chanc'd t' espy , Teach verse ( ô trust me ye posterity ) Listning Nymphs , and Satyrs there With Goat-feet , and erected ear . My heart appall'd with sudden horror , I , Of Bacchus full , shout Evohe on high : Forbear Liber , ô forbear , So dreadful for thy horrid spear . I may have stubborn Thyads for my theam , A fount of Wine , and rivers running Cream , Chaunt again how honey drils , And from the hollow stem distils , I thy blest consorts glorious constellation , I Pentheus Palace brought to desolation , I may sing the dismal fate Of Thracian Lycurgus state . Thou turn'st Rivers , and the Indian Main , Thou ( soak'd with wine ) on distant mountains l●'ne , Do'st Thrace womens tresses plait In V●per-wreaths without deceit : Thou , when those impious Gyants climb'd on high , To Ioves Court Royal through the boundless sky , Flung'st down Rhaecus with the claws Of Leo , and his horrid jaws : Although more prone to dances , sports , and playes Thou wert esteem'd , nor fit for Martial frayes : Yet did either war or peace Indifferently thy genius please . At thee gold-horn'd , F●end Cerberus did look With harmless eye , and fawningly he shook His tail , and with triple-head Thy feet toucht , when thou didst recede . ODE XX. By Sir T. H. HORACE turned into a Swan , will fly all ever the world , whence he promiseth the immortality of hi● Poesie . A Two-fold Poet , through the liquid skie , I with a strong unusual wing will flie : No longer shall I of the Earth partake , But out of Envies reach the World forsake . I am not issued of ignoble strain , Nor whom Maecenas pleaseth to retain Under the title of belov'd shall die , Or in the Stygian lake forgotten lie . Now , now , upon my legs a rugged skin Is over-spread , and I a Swan am seen Upward transform'd ; a light and downie plume , My fingers , and wing'd shoulders now assume . And now a shrill-tune Bird become , I le soar And much more swift then Icarus , explore The Lybian Syrtes , and the murmuring sand Of Bosphor straights , and Hyperborean land . Me , Colchos , and the Dacian , who doth faign Fear of the Marsian's armes shall entertain , Gelons remote , and they who on the brink Of I●er dwell , or Rhodanus do drink . Banish from my thin Hearce your fun'ral mones , Your ill bemoaning tears , complaints , and groans : Clamour forbear , or fondly to confer The needless honour of a Sepulcher . The end of the second Book . ODES . BOOK III. ODE I. By Sir R. F. That a happy man is not made by Riches or Honours , but by tranquillity of the minde . I Hate lay-Vulgar : make no noise , Room for a Priest of Helicon : I sing to noble Girls and Boyes Such verses as were never known . Fear'd Kings command on their own Ground ; The King commanding Kings is Iove : Whose Arme the Giants did confound , Whose aweful brow doth all things move . One man may be a greater Lord Of land then other : this may show A nobler Pedegree : a third In parts and fame may both out-go : A fourth in Clients out-vie all . Necessity in a vast Pot Shuffling the names of great and small , Draws every one's impartial lot . Over whose head hangs a drawn sword , Him cannot please a Royal feast : Nor melody of lute or bird , Give to his eyes their wonted rest . Sleep , gentle sleep , scorns not the poor Abiding of the Plough-man : loves By sides of Rivers shades obscure : And rockt with West-windes , Tempe Groves ; That man to whom enough's enough , Nor raging seas trouble his head , Nor fell Arcturus setting rough , Nor fury of the rising Kid : Not hail-smit Vines and years of Dearth ; Sometimes the too much wet in fault , Sometimes the stars that broil the earth , Sometimes the Winter that was nought . The Fish fear stifling in the sea , Damm'd up . The Master-builder and H's men , the Land-sick Lord too , he Throws rubbish in with his own hand . But fear and dangers haunt the Lord Into all places : and black Care Behind him rides : or , if on board A ship , 't is his companion there . If Marble keep not Feavers out , Nor purple rayment help the blind , Nor Persian Oyntments cure the gout ▪ Nor Massick Wines a troubled mind : With envied posts in fashion strange Why should I raise a stately pile ? My Sabine vale why should I change For wealth accompani'd with toyl ? ODE II. By Sir T. H. To his Friends . Boyes are to be enured from their tender age , to poverty , warfare , and painful life . LEt th' able youth , himself enure By sharp wars raught , want to endure : And mounted on his horse , with spear , Confront bold P●rthians , free , from fear : Let him expos'd to open air , Live , and attempt the hard'st affair : Whom when some warlike Tyrants Queen , Or Virgin-marriage ripe hath seen , Afar from hostile walls , may cry With sighs , which from sad passion flie ; O , that my Royal Lord , untrain'd In Martial feats , would be restrain'd , Not by fierce Combats fatal stroke , That wrathful Lion to provoke , Whom bloody Anger 's direful rage , In thickest slaughters doth engage . It is a sweet , and noble gain , In Countreys quarrel to be slain ▪ Death the swift flying man pursues With ready steps : Nor doth he use To spare from unavoided wrack , Youths supple hams , or fearful back , Vertue , that ne're repulse admits , In taintless honours , glorious sits , Nor takes , or leaveth Dignities , Rais'd with the noise of vulgar cries . Vertue ( to worth Heav'n opening wide ) Dauntless , breaks through wayes deny'd . And ( taught ) the Rabble to despise , Forsaking earth to heaven flies , Yea trusty silence is not barr'd , From having a deserv'd reward . He , who to blab the holy Rites Of secret Ceres phane delights , Under the same roof shall not be , Nor in frail Vessel sail with me . Oft Iove neglected makes the just To smart with those are stain'd with lust ▪ Seldome Revenge , though slow of pace , Leaves ill fore-going men to trace . ODE III. By Sir R. F. A Speech of Inno at the Council of the Gods , concerning the ending of the war of Troy , and the beginning which the Roman Empire should take from the Trojans . AN honest and resolved man , Neither a peoples tumults can , Neither a Tyrants indignation , Un-center from his fast foundation ; Nor storms that from the bottome move The Adrian sea , nor thundring Iove : If the crackt Orbes would split and fall , Crush him they would , but not appall . Pollux , and wandring Hercules , Gain'd Heaven by such wayes as these : 'Mongst whom Augustus , leaning , sips Immortal Nectar with red lips . This way deserving Bacchus clomb The high Olympus , with his own Tam'd Tygers , which Ambrosia feed , And Romulus on Mars his steed : Pleas'd Iuno speaking a good word On his behalf , at Council-board . Troy , Troy , ( through mine , and Pallas grudge ) A fatal and adultrous Iudge , And forraign woman overthrew , With its false King and damned Crew , Because Laomedon forsook The Gods , and brake the Oath he took . The Spartan Strumpets famous guest Is now no more jewell'd and drest : No more doth Priams Perjur'd house Resist bold Greeks by Hectors prowes : And wars , which I inflam'd , are done ; My wrath then , and the Trojan Nun 's Abhorr'd Off-spring , here I give To his father Mars that he should live In bowres of light , suck Nectar-bowls , And be transcrib'd into the rolls Of quiet Gods , I will abide . So long as spacious seas divide Ilium and Rome ; so long as beasts On Priamus and Paris breasts Insult , and ( undisturb'd ) the wild Whelp in their tombes ; let the exil'd Reign great in any other land : The Capitol refu'gent stand ; And awful Rome with seven proud heads Give Laws to the triumphed Medes : Rouzing her self , left her extend Her dreadful name to the worlds end ; Where mid-land seas part Africks soyl From Europe , to the floods of Nyle ; More valiant to despise hid gold , ( Which wisely Nature did with-hold ) Then force it to mans use , by sack Of Temples , or by Natures wrack . Whatever corner would impeach Her progress , that , let her Sword reach : Visit the stores of snow and hail , And where excessive heats prevail . Yet warlike Romans destiny , On this condition I decree , That they ( too pious , and grown high ) Shall not re-build their Mother Troy. VVith Troy's fate shall be reviv'd , And all her ominous birds retriv'd , VVhen second wars our self will move , The Sister and the VVife of Jove . If Phoebus harp a Brasen wall Should thriee erect , thrice it should fall ( Raz'd by my Greeks ) the wife , in chain , Thrice mourn her sons and husband slain . But whether saucy Muse ? These things Agree not with the Lutes soft strings . The words of gods cease to repeat , And with small voice matters so great . ODE IV. By Sir R. F. The Poet saith , That he hath been delivered from many dangers by the help of the Muses ; And that it hath gone ill with all who have attempted any thing against the Gods. DEscend Thalia with a song From Heaven ; my Queen , I 'de have it long To the shril pipe or to the flute , The viol or Apollo's lute . Do ' st hear ? or do I sweetly rave ? I hear in yonder trees , which wave , Thy rustling robe , and in that spring The tuning of thy silver string . Me , am'rous turtles ( Poets theam ) As by my native Aufids stream , A child opprest with sleep and play , Under a Mountain side I lay , Fearless ( for what hath he to fear , Who from his birth was Heavens care ? ) With sacred Bayes and Mirtle boughs , On which no Beast did ever browse , Covered , least Snake or ugly Bear , Should do me hurt as I slept there ; Which set the neighb ' ring Fields at gaze , As wondring what should be the cause . Whether I mount the Sabine hill , Or with cold springs Preneste chill , Or me the healing Bath allures ; Where ere I am : Muses , I 'me yours . Friend to your springs , with your songs rapt , At lost Philippi Field scap't ; The fall of my own cursed Tree , And shipwrack in Sicilian Sea. Go you with me , I 'le ( dreadless ) try The Bosphorus that threats the skie , And ( travelling ) defie the thirsty Syrian sands to do their worst . Visit the Brittains , fierce to strangers , The horse-fed Thracians bloody mangers , The Scythians , whom no Sun doth warm , And none of them shall do me harm . Great Caesar , you with Martrial toil Tir'd out , and glad to breath a while In Winter quarters with his men , Refresh in the Pierian Den. You give him mild advice ; And well From you he takes it . We can tell , The Giants selves for all their troop Of monstrous Bulkes , were Thunder-strook By him that towns , and dreary ghosts , Immortal Gods , and mortal hoasts , The stupid Earth , and restless Main , Doth govern with one equal raign . The horrid band and brotherhood , Who ( whilst upon their terms they stood ) Pelion to heap on Ossa strove , Gave not a little care to Iove . But what could Mimas , and the strong Typhaeus , what Porphyrion long , What Rhaecus , and with hurled trunk ( Torn up by th'roots ) the fury-drunk Enceladus , rushing against Minerva's ringing shield advanc't ? Here the devouring Vulcan stood , There Matron Iuno , and the god That never layes his Quiver by , Bathes in pure dews of Castaly His dangling locks , haunts Delian woods , Patros , and Rhodes , and Xanthus floods . Uncounsil'd force with his own weight Is crusht ; a force that 's temperate Heaven it self helps : and hates no less Strength that provokes to wickedness . This truth Orion understands , And Gyges with the hundred hands : He , purposing chast Dians Rape , Could not her Virgin-arrows scape . The Earth on her own Monsters thrown , ( Thundred to endless night ) doth grone Over her sons : Aetna doth rore , Burning , and not consum'd . No more Can Tytiu's heart in Vulters claw , Or wast it self , or fill her Mawe . Offended Proserpine restrains Perithous in three hundred chains . ODE V. By Sir R. F. The praises of Augustus , the dishonour of Crassus , the constancy of Regulus , and his return to the Carthaginians . JOve governs Heaven with his nod : Augustus is the earthlie God ; Bold Brittains to the Empire bow'd , And Persians , with late trophies proud . Could Crassus souldier lead his life Yoakt basely with a barbarous wife ? And with Foe Father-in-law grow gray In Armes , under a Medians pay ! ( O fathers ! and degenerate shame ! ) His blood forgotten and his name , Eternal Vesta , and the Gown , Whilest there was yet a Iove , and Rome ! This fear'd wise Regulus his mind , And so the base Accord declin'd , Weighing the consequence , unless The Captive Youth dy'd pitiless . I saw ( quoth he ) our Ensigns stuck In Punick fanes , without a stroke Souldiers disarm'd , Citizens Their free hands bound behind with chaines . And the Ports open , and that field Which Romans had incampt on , till'd . All this I saw . Redeem'd with gold They 'l grow , belike , in fight more bold . Buy not iniquity . As stain White wooll 't will never white again : So , if true Vertue fall , despair To stop her till the lowest stair . A Hind out of the Tramels free , And make her fight , then so will he That rendred to a faithless foe , And Carthaginians overthrow In second War ; That tamely took The lash , and ( Death but named ) shook . Why these ( forgetting whence they came ) Confounded war with peace , O shame ! Great Carthage ! thou hast overcome The vertue ( more then troops ) of Rome . His chast wife's kiss , and his small fry Of Babes , he 's said to have put by , ( As being a slave ) and not t' have took From Earth his stern and manly look : Till he th' unwilling Senate brought To vote the thing that he had sought : Then through his weeping friends he went Into a glorious banishment . Though well he knew what torments were Ready prepared for him there By Barbrous men . Yet brake through all His Kindred , and the crouded Hall To beg of him he would not go , No otherwise then he would do From Clyents swarms , after the end Of a long Term , going to spend In sweet Campania the Vacation , And give his mind some Relaxation . ODE VI. By Sir T. H. To the Romans . Of the corrupt manners of that Age. ROman , resolve , thou shalt desertless taste Sins scourge , for Vice of Predecessor past , Until thou do'st again repair Decaied Temples , and make fair The falling houses of the Gods disgrac'd , And cleanse their images , with smoak defac'd . To think thee less than Gods , thy power commends ; Hence take beginnings , hither aim thy ends . The Gods neglected , many woes On Italy distressed , throws . Twice Pacorus , and twice Moneses hand , Our inauspicious armed troops disband : Who with a plentious prey made glad , To little chains more links do adde . The Dacian and the Ethiop fierce in wars , Hath almost raz't the City , rent with jars : One with his Navy formidable , With darts the other better able . This age in vice abounding , first begins Chast stocks , and Nuptials to pollute with sins ; The woes which from this fountain flow , People , and Countrey over-throw . The Maid for marriage ripe , much joyes to learn Ionick dances , and can well discern With art to sain , and quickly prove , The pleasures of unlawful love . Straight made a wife , in midd'st of husbands cups , She with young Gallants and Adult'rers sups ; Nor cares to whom she yields by stealth , ( When lights are out ) loves lawless wealth . But ask'd doth rise , her knowing husband by , To prostitute her marriage-modesty ; At Factors call , or Pilots hire , Of lustf●l shame , a costly buyer . That youth came not from such Fore-fathers strain , Who did the sea with Punick blood distain : Not by such hands did Pyrrhus fall , Antiochus , nor Hannibal . But in those dayes a brave and manly race Of rustick souldiers lived in this place , Well skill'd in Plough and Sabine Spade , And so to strict obedience made , That if sharp Mothers bade , at their return They on their shoulders brought logs hew'd to burn , When Phoebus changed had the mountains shade , And weary unyoak'd Oxen homeward made , And that night gave their toil dispense , Chasing the Suns bright chariot hence . What wasteth not with Times devouring rage ? Our fathers life , much worse than Grandsires age , Sees us more wicked , to produce An Off-spring fuller of abuse . ODE VII . By Sir R. F. To ASTERIE . He comforts her , being sad and solicitous for the absence of her husband . ASterie , Why dost thou mourn For Gyges , shortly to return On wings of Vernal air , Rich in Sicilian War ? More rich in faith . He by a blast After long stormes , on Epire cast His Widow'd nights , steeps there In many a watchful tear . Yet Chloe's subtil messenger , Shewing what sighs it pulls from her , Whilest in thy Flame she fries , A thousand wayes him tries . She tells how the false Woman wrought On credulous Pretus , till she brought A cruel death upon Too chaste Bellerophon . Of Peleus near his fatal hour , Whilest he shuns love , that 's arm'd with power : And ( cunning ) rakes from dust All precedents for lust . In vain : For deaf as Rocks to prayer , He 's yet unmov'd . But take thou care Enipeus at next door Do not thy love procure . Though none with better skill be seen To weild a Horse in Mars his green ; Nor with more active limbs In Tyburs Channel swims . Shut to thy gate before it darken , Nor to his whining Musick hearken : And though he still complain Thou' rt hard , still hard remain . ODE VIII . To MAECENAS . Argument . No reason that Maecenas should It for an admiration hold , He should Mars Calends celebrate , Although he live in single state . Martiis coelebs . HOw I a Batch'lour spend my hours On Mars his Calends , what mean flowers ▪ And Incense-bolls , and coals on green Turf-altars seen , Th'admir'st , O thou profoundly skill'd In either tongue . I almost kill'd With falling tree , sweet Cates devote , And white He-goat . He yearly on this very day Will fling the Rosin'd Can away , To soak Wine , old as Tullus date Of consulate . Maecenas bouze the hundreth Cup To thy friends health ; Night-lamps set up Upon fair day ; from hence retire All noise and ire . Let pass all civil cares for Rome , For Cottison's o'rcome : Now Scyths with Bow unbended yield , And quit the Field . Heed not though Vulgars toil sustain ; Though private , publick care refrain , And using what time present brings , Shun serious things . ODE IX . By Sir. R. F. A Dialogue of Love and Jealousie , betwixt Horace and Lydia . Hor. WHilst I possest thy love , free from alarms , Nor any Youth more acceptable arms About thy Alablaster neck did fling , I liv'd more happy then the Persian King. Lyd. Whilst thou ador'st not more another face , Nor unto Chloe Lydia gave place ; I Lydia , soaring on the wings of Fame , Eclipst the Roman Ilia with my name . Hor. Me , Thracian Chloe now , rules absolute , Skill'd in sweet Layes , and peerless at her Lute : For whom to die I would not be afraid , If Fates would spare me the surviving Maid . Lyd. Me , Calys , rich Ornitho's heir , doth scorch With a reciprocal and equal torch : For whom I would endure to die twice over , If Fates would spare me my surviving Lover . Hor. What if old Venus should her Doves revoke ; And curb us ( stubborn ) to her Bra●en yoke : If bright-trest Chloe I would henceforth hate , And to excluded Lydia ope the Gate ? Lyd. Though he be fairer then the Morning-star ; Thou , lighter then a Cork , and madder far Then the vext Ocean , when it threats the Skie , With thee I 'de gladly live , I 'de willing die . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , by J. W. Esq. Hor. WHilest I alone was dear to thee , And onely chief in thy embrace , No Persian King liv'd life to me , Or half so blest or happy was . Lyd. Till thy love roul'd , and did prefer Chloes new face , 'fore Lydia , In fame , I ( far surpassing her ) Was greater than Romes Ilia . Hor. Chloes the Saint I pray to now , Sweetly she sings , and playes o' th' Lute ▪ For whom , would Destiny allow , My life should be a substitute . Lyd. The same 's young Orthniu's heir ) To me , for whom I should be glad If I might die , though twice it were , Would the same Fates but spare the Lad ▪ Hor. But say ! if as before I burn ? Say I once more put on my chain ? Chloe shak'd off , and I return To my first Lydia again ? Lyd. Though he 's more glorious then a Star , Thou then a Cork more fickle be , Or pettish then the Sea , I swear Once more to live and die with thee . ODE X. Against LYCE. Argument . Harsh Lyce Advertised here She would hard-heartedness forbear ▪ And some commiseration grant To him , her humble supplicant ▪ Extremum Tanaim . LYce hadst drunk of remote Tanais tide , Or to some Barbarous Scythian been a bride ; Yet , me prostrate before thy doors , thou should Bewail t' expose to Northern cold . Hear'st how the Gates crack ? how the woods resound 'Mongst beauteous structures placed all around ? And how the air conglaciates the snow , When all the Heavens serenely show ? All pride ingrateful unto Lovers shun : Least Fortunes wheel should retrogradely run . No Tyrrhene father hath begotten thee O● hard-to-wo Penelope . Although with thee nor Gifts , nor prayers avail , Nor Lovers violet tinctures mixt with pale , Nor thy Mate Love-struck with Pierian whore ; O spare thy suppliants I implore : Thou more relentless than a rigid tree , And Maurian Serpents not so cruel be , My tender sides not alwayes can sustain At thy hard doors down-syling rain . ODE XI . By Sir R. F. To MERCURY . That he would dictate to him a song , wherewith to bend Lyde . The Fable of Danaus Daughters . O Mercury ( for taught by ●ou Deaf stones by th' ears Amphion drew ) And Shell , whose hollow Belly 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 seven strings . Once mute and graceless , now the tongue Of Feasts and Temples : lend me a song To thrid the maze of Lyde's prayer Resisting ear . Who like a three years Colt doth fetch A hundred rings , and 's hard to catch ; Free from a husband , and not fit For backing yet . Thou mak'st stiffe Forrests march , retreat Prone rivers : Cerberus the great Porter of Hell to thee gave way , Stroak'd with a Lay ▪ Though with a hundred Snakes he curl His head , and from his nostrils hurl A filthy stream , which all bedrops His triple chops . Ixion too with a forc't smile Did grin . The tubs stood dry a while , Whilest with thy Musick thou didst please The Belides . Tell Lyde that ; that Virgin-slaughter , And famous torment , the vain water Coozning their Urnes through thousand drains , And Posthume pains . For cruel Maids laid up in store , Cruel . For what could they do more , That could with unrelenting steel Their Lovers kill ? One onely worthy Hymens flame , And worthy of immortal Fame , Her perjur'd father ( pious child ) Bravely beguil'd : Who said to her young Husband ; Wake , Least an Eternal sleep thou take , Whence least thoo look'st : deceive my Sire , And Sisters dire : Who like so many Tygers tear ( Alas ! ) the prey : I ( tenderer ) Will neither slay , nor keep thee thus I' th Slaughter-house . Me let my Savage father chain , Because my Husband is unflain , Or into farthest Africa Ship me away . By Land or Sea take thou thy flight , Cover'd with wings of Love and Night : Go , go , and write when thou art safe My Epitaph . ODE XII . To NEOBULE . Argument . They live in miserable thrall Whom no refreshments chear at all : Stout Heber wounds with amorous dart His Sweet-heart Neobule's heart . Miserarum est . THey 'r wretched , who in love ne're recreate , Nor with sweet Wines their maladies abate , With fear of Uncles sharp reproof dismay'd . Thy basket , Neobule , Cupid takes , And Liparean Hebrus lustre makes Thee leave thy web , and painful Pallas trade . He than Bellephron can better ride At hand-fights , foot-course still victorious try'd , When his oyl'd limbs are bath'd in Tybers flood : He cunning is to chase a roaming Hart , O'r Champains , and transfix him with his dart , And surprize Bores skult in the bushy wood . ODE XIII . To the Fountain of Blandusia . Argument . He to Blandusia's Chrystal Spring A Kid for Sacrifice will bring : And doth the sweet delights recount , Of that refriegerating Fount . O fons Blandusiae . BLandusian Spring , tralucenter than glass , Worthy wine-offerings , deck'd with flowry grass , I 'le slay to thee to morn A Kid crown'd with youthful horn , Choosing his mate , and conflicts , all in vain : For a lascivious Off-spring shall distain , And file thy frigid flood With mixture of Purple blood . Thou' rt free from Dog-stars servent influence . Thou do'st thy sweet refreshing streams dispence To Bullocks tired out , And Heards roving all about . Ev'n thou shalt be a far-renowned Spring , Whilest I of Rocks crown'd with the Ilex sing : Whence the loud waters rush Down head-long with vi'lent gush . ODE XIV . By Sir T. H. To the Roman people . This Ode containeth the praises of Augustus returning out of Spain , after his Conquest over the Cantabrians . GReat Caesar who is said to go , Like Hercules against his foe , To purchase Bayes by death , again Victorious is return'd from Spain . The Wife that 's with one husband pleas'd , Let her come forth , the Gods appeas'd . Octavia , Caesars Sister , haste , And mothers with your daughters chaste . Attir'd in modest veil appear , And sons returned safe draw neer : You Boyes , and you now married train Of wives from evil words abstain . From me this new made Holy-day Black sullen cares shall take away : Nor fear I in great Caesars reign By force or tumult to be slain . ( Boy ) crowns , and unguents now prepare , And vessel kept , since Marsian war , If any such conceal'd hath been By wandring Sportacus not seen . Let hither shrill Neaera hie , And hair perfum'd in tresses tie : But if the Porter make delay With churlish answer , haste away . White hoary hairs temper the mind , To brawls , and quarrels earst inclin'd : This in youths heat I could not brook , When Plancus charge of Consul took . ODE XV. Against CHLORIS . Argument . That Chloris ( now well stept in Age ) Should Lust and Wantonness asswage . Uxor pauperis . AT length , poor Ibicu's wife , Affix a period to thy vicious life , And unto thy reproachful trade . And now that Death so near approach hath made , 'Mongst Maids leave playing , nor enshroud Those fulgent stars with thy obscuring cloud . Nor Chloris think that seemeth thee , Which gracefully becomes thy Pholoe . Thy daughter breaks ope young mens doors Better , like Thyas rag'd when Tim●r●l rores : Renown'd Luceria's Fleeces grace The more when old , than any Lyric layes , Or crowns with roses deckt about , Or hogsheads to th' extreamest dregs drunk out . ODE XVI . By Sir. R. F. To MAECENAS . That all things fly open to Gold : Yet HORACE is contented with his own condition , in which he lives happy . DAnae in Brazen Tower immur'd , From night-adulterers , doors barr'd , And of fierce dogs a constant ward Would have sufficiently secur'd , If Iove and Venus had not fool'd , The Goaler of the cloyster'd Maid , ( Though of his own shadow afraid ) Turning his Godship into Gold. Gold loves to break through armed Guards , And Castles that are Thunder-proof , The Augur's sacred roof Was undermined by rewards . Gifts were the Macedons Petar , With which he blew up City-gates , Subverted Rival Kings and States , And laid aboard their Men of War. With growing riches cares augment , And thirst of greater . I did well To shrink my head into my shell , Maecenas Knight-hoods ornament . The more a man t' himself denies , The more indulgent Heaven bestowes . Let them that will side with the I's : I 'me with the Party of the No's . A greater Lord of a small store , Then if the fruitful Crops of all Appulia I mine own did call : In midst of so much plenty poor . My little wood , and my pure stream , And corn that never fails ; makes me A man more truly blest , then he That wears rich Africks Diadem . Though neither Crossick Bees produce Honey to me , nor cloathing fine Segovian flocks : nor Massick wine Mellow in barrels for my use : Yet 〈◊〉 Poverty 's away . Nor , wisht I more , wouldst thou deny 't . Who , with contracted appetite May easier my tribute pay , Then if deputed Egypts King. Large issues follow large supplies . He , to whom Heaven nothing denies , Owes an account of every thing ▪ ODE XVII . To AELIUS LAMIA . Argument . He Lamia's regal stem displayes Forth in Encomiastic Layes : Wills him his Genius to chear , Against the presag'd storm appear . Aeli , vetusto . O Aelius , sprung from Lamus antient name , From whose stem all precedent Lamias came , And thy family and tribe , Which nothing Registers describe : Thou from his loyns draw'st thine original , Who reigned first within the Formian wall , And whose amply spread command Raught Liris , laving Maric's strand . An Eastern tempest shall with furious roar , Fling leaves in woods , and leaves upon the shore : If the aged Cow decry A true presaging augury . Lay , while thou canst , dry faggots on the fire : With lushious Wine to morrow feed desire , A Pig fat , and tender slay , And let thy Hindes keep Holy-day . ODE XVIII . By Sir T. H. To FAUNUS ; Who being an infernal pestilent VVood-god , he prayeth that passing thorow his Fields , he would be favourable to him and his . FAunus , who after Nymphs dost range , Through my precincts , and fruitful Graunge Pass gently , and propitious be To flocks , and me . A tender Kid the year shall end , Full Cups of Liquor ( Venus friend ) We 'l pay ; Fumes shall on Altars flie In odours high . Beasts , when Decembers Nones appear In grazy grounds make sportive chear : The jocund Clown in Meads doth feast ; The Oxe doth rest . The Wolf 'mongst frearless Lambs doth stray , Woods strew thee leafs upon this day ; The Ditcher joyes with measur'd mirth To tread the Earth . ODE XIX . To TELEPHUS . Argument . At Telephus he scoffs , who whiles He Histories obsolete compiles , Of things which chiefly constitute An happy life is wholly mute . Quantum distat . THe space 'twixt Inachus his reign , And Codrus bravely for his Country slain , And Aeacus his Kin , and fights Fought under Sacred Ilium thou writes : But of a Choan hogsheads price , And who with fire cold water qualifies , In whose house , and what hour t' allay Pelignian cold , thou not one word dost say . Boy , quick bring Cups for Cynthia's rise , And for Mid-night , bring th' Augurs Cup likewise , Murena's , and corrouze off Wine , No less then three healths , no more then nine . A Poet , who th' unequal Tribe . Of Muses loves , let him nine Jugs imbibe . The Graces with nak'd Sisters joyn'd , Let them , for fear of brawlings , be confin'd , And drink three Cups off , and no more ; O , how I love to frolick it , and roar ! Why sounds not still the Phrygian Flute ? Why Pipes and Harps permitted to be mute ? I parsimonious hands despise . Strew Roses , and let out wild frantick noise Arrive to envy'd Lycus ears , And neighbour Maid unfit for Lycus years . Mature-grown Chloe courts thee now , Tel'phus grac'd with rank locks of comely shew , And bright as radiant Vesper : I , I wasting ardour for my Glyc'raes fry . ODE XX. To PYRRHUS . Argument . How dangerous a thing 't would prove T'abstract Nearchus from his love . Non vides quanto . PYrrhus , how dang'rous 't is , confess , To take Whelps from a Lioness : Straight thou scarr'd Ravisher wilt run , When battel 's done . When she through crouds of youthful men Shall to Nearchus turn again , Great question 't is who bears away The greater pray . As thou prepar'st thy speedy piles , She whets her dreadful Tusks the whiles : He ( th' Umpire ) trampled down , they say , The Victors Bay. And wafted his sweet shiveled hair With gentle blasts : like Nireas fair , Or Ganymede snatcht up from fountfull Ida's Mount. ODE XXI . To His VVine-vessel . Argument . He speaks t' his Rundiet to effuse , For Corvine's sake , choice Massick juyce : Thence takes occasion to define The praises and effects of VVine . O nata mecum . KInd vessel , coaetaneous with my date , Compos'd when Manlius bare the consulate , Whether thou invite to weep , Or jest , or brawl , or love or sleep , Where'r mark thy choice Massick liquors hide , Well-worthy broaching on some sacred Tide : Now Corvinus thee injoyns , Come down , and tap thy mellow Wines . He , though well studied in Socratic books , Contemns thee not with sour and rigid looks ; And grave Cato as is fam'd , Was oft with Bacchus gift inflam'd . Thou sometimes sett'st upon a gentle rack Severe wits : Thou the wiser pates canst make With thy mirth creating juyce , Even all their secrets thought ; effuse . Thou dost the Forelorn with hope fortifie , And mak'st the poor man lift his horns on high , Who drunk , nor the Scepters fears Of Kings incens'd , nor Souldiers spears . For Bacchus , ( Venus if in merry cue ) And graces loth to break the social Crew , And lamps lighted , shalt thou run , Till Stars decline the orient Sun. ODE XXII . Upon DIANA . Argument . He Diana's offices relates , To whom his Pine he dedicates . Montium custos . O Tripple Queen of Woods and Hills , Who freest parturient wombs from ills At three Orizons , and dost ever Them safe deliver . Accept the Pine that shrouds my Farm , Which yearly I le imbrew with warm Bores blood , that sacrificed strike With tusks oblique . ODE XXIII . By Sir T. H. To PHIDILE . The Gods are to be honoured with pure hands , and the testimony of a well spent age . IF Rural Phidile , at the Moons arise , To Heaven thou lift thy hands in humble wise : If thou with Sacrifice thy Lars wilt please , Or with new fruit and greedie swine appease , Thy fertile Vineyard shall not suffer blast From pest'lent South , nor parching dew be cast Upon thy Corn , nor shall thy children dear , Feel sickly Fits in Autumn of the year . It is the long vow'd victime , which is fed 'Mongst Holmes , and Okes on snowie Algids head , Or which in fat Albanian pastures grew , That shall the Priests sharp axe with blood imbrew . To thee , who petty Gods dost magnifie , With Mirtle branch , and sprig of Rosemary , It nothing appertains their feasts to keep With frequent slaughters of the fattest sheep . If thy hand , free from ill , the Altar touch , Thou shalt th' offended Gods appease as much With gift of sparkling Salt , and pious meal , As if thou vows with costly victimes seal . ODE XXIV . by Sir R. F. He inveighs against covetous men , who continually joyn houses to houses , building in the very Sea it self : when in the mean time no buildings can free them from the necessity of dying . He saith the Scythians are happy , who draw their houses in waggons , and till the fields in common . Moreover , denies that corruption of manners , and license of sinning to be amongst these , which is amongst the Romans . But for the rooting out of these evils , together with the depraved desire of increasing riches , affirms , there is need of a more rigid Discipline . THough richer then unpoll'd Arabian wealth , and Indian Gold , Thou with thy works should'st drain The Tyrrbene and whole Pontick Main ; Thou could'st not , when Death layes On Thee his Adamanti●e mace , Thy minde from terrour free , Nor body from mortality . Wiser the Scythians , Whose houses run on wheels like Waines ; And frozen Getes , whose Field U●●ounded doth free Ceres yield : Nor is 't the custome there , To sow a land above a year ; And when that Crop is born , The 〈◊〉 it each by turn . There women mingle not , For Son-in-Law's a poyson'd pot ; Nor govern : Or their Dou'● Presuming , 〈◊〉 adultrers pow'r . Their 〈◊〉 to be well bred : And Chastity , flying the Bed Of others , their own trust Perswading , and the price of Lust. Oh! he that would asswage , Our blood-shed and intestine rage , If he would 〈◊〉 have His Countries Father on his grave ; Let him not fear t' oppose Unbridled licence to the nose : So shall he gain great praise In after times ; since ( wome dayes ! ) We envy living worth , But miss it when 't is laid in earth . For what do our laws stand , If punishme●●●eed not 〈◊〉 land ? What serves vain preaching for . Which cannot cure our lives ? if nor Those lands which flames imbrace ; Nor where the neighb'ring Boreas , Shuts up the Ports with cold , And snows fast nail'd to the free hold , The Mariner repell ? If crafty Merchants learn to quell The horridst Seas ? the fear Of that crime Want making them bear , And do all things , and balk Severer vertues narrow walk ▪ Would Heaven we 'd carry all Our wealth into the Capitoll ! Or in the next Sea duck Our jewels and pernicious muck , Fewel of all that 's 〈◊〉 ! If we repent as we ought , Strike at the root of ills ; And mould we our too pliant wills To rougher arts : the childe Of noble linage cannot wield A bounding horse of war , Nay fears to hunt , more skill'd by far to stride off the Greek bowl , Or the forbidden D●ce to trowl , The whilest his perjur'd Father Deceives his partners trust , to gather For one that hath no wit. So ill got wealth grows fast , and yet Something still short doth come , To make it up an even sum . ODE XXV . Upon BACCHUS . Argument . The Lyric of God Bacchus craves , T' induct him to his Bowers , and Caves . Wherewith his influence repleat , He may Augustus praise repeat . Quo me Bacche . WHere dragg'st me ( Bacchus ) with thy power Repleat , to what Grove , or obscure Bower Am I hal'd , with transform'd mind ! In what Reciuses is my Muse confin'd , While Caesars endless honour I Advance to heaven , and rank with Iove on high : I 'le sing a glorious , and new verse , Such as no man did ere before reherse . Just so layes Evias in a Muse Awak'd on lofty Mountains , where he views Cold Hebers streams , and snowy Thrace , And Rhodope where barbarous people trace . O how do I a wandrer love , T' admire the crags and solitary groves ! King of Flood-nymphus , and Bacchae's , who Can with your hands tall Ash-trees overthrow : No petty Theam in humble phraze , No mortal subject shall my Muse deblaze . Bacchus , sweet danger 't is to chase . A God , whose crest green Vine-branch Crownets grace . ODE XXVI . To VENUS . Argument . The Poet now well struck in years , His Lyre , and amorous Theams forlears : And prayes the Cyprian Queen to dart One love-shaf● at proud Chloes heart . Vixi puellis . I Lately with young Virgins did comply , And was in Cupids camp renowned high : Now my Engins ( wa●s at end , ) And Lute I 'le on this wall i●spend , Bord'ring on Sea-born Venus'es left hand Here , be●e let my enlightning Tapour stand , With my leavers and my bow , That borr'd-up doors can open throw , Thou who do'st o'r blest Cyprus Isle preside , And M●mphis where no Thracian snow can bide , O Q●een , with ●ar fetched stroke Once haughty Chloes ire revoke . ODE XXVII . By Sir R. F. To Galatea going to Sea. He deters her principally by the example of Europa . LEt ill presages , guide the Ill , A screecning Owl , or from a hill A She-wolf mad upon the Flocks , Or pregnant Fox , And a Snake shaft-like shot athwart Their horses way to make them start , Their journey stop . What place is here For provident fear ? Before the tempest boading foul , Descend into the standing Pool , My prayer shall from the Orient steer The Kings Fisher. Be blest , whereever thou wouldst be , And Galatea think of me ; No ominous Pye thy steps revoakes , No Raven croaks . Yet pale Orion sad descends ; I know too well what it portends , When black I see the Adriatick , Or white the Iapick . Let our foes wives , and all they love The rising Kids blind anger prove , And the vext Ocean when it roars , Lashing the shores . Europa so , trusting her soft Side to the ticing Bull , shriekt oft , The Rocks and Monsters to behold , Though she was bold . She that late pickt sweet flowers in M●●es , And wore meet Ga●l 〈◊〉 N●mphs heads , In a clear night could nothing spy But Sea and Sky . In pepulous ●rete arriv'd soon after , O Sire , ( quoth she ) left by thy Daughter And 〈◊〉 my feeble brest By love opprest , Whence whether rapt ? One death 's too small to expiate a Virgins fall . Do I ( awake ) true crimes lament , Or ( innocent ) Doth some false Dream put me in pain ? Was 't better through the horrid Main To rove far off : or with my Father Fresh Flowers to gather ? Had I that naughty Bull now here , How with my nails I could him tear , And break the horns about that pate So lov'd of late ! Shameless I left my Sires aboads : Shameless I pawse on death ; ye Gods , ( If any hear ) show me the way Where Lions stray . Ere my fair skin grow tand and loose , And of the tender prey the juice Run out ; whilst I am plump I wou'd Be Tigers food . Die hase Europa ( whispers me My Sire ) behold you beckning tree ! The Zone from thy chaste waste unknit To thy neck fit . Or if sharp Rocks delight for speed , This hanging cliff will do the deed : Unless ( being come of Royal kin ) Th'adst rather spin , And be a barbrous Mistress thrall , Her husbands trull . Venus heard all , And Cupid falsely laughing now Wi● tunbent bow ; At length she said , This rage forbear ; That naughty Bull thou shalt have here : Prepare thy self 'gainst he returns To break his horns . Iove is thy Bull. These Fountains dry ; Learn to use greatness moderately : Thy Thirds o th' World shall called be Europe from thee . ODE XXVIII . By Sir T. H. To LYDE. He perswadeth Lyde to spend the Day dedicated to Neptune , pleasantly . ON Neptunes feasts what else do we ? Straight ( Lyde ) broach , and bring to me Caecubian Wines laid up in store , And let strong wisdome sway no more . Thou seest 't is Mid-time of the day , And yet , as if swift hours did stay , A But thou spar'st , was Cellar-stall'd , When Bibu●us was Consul call'd . With mutual songs wee 'l Neptune please , 〈◊〉 ●he green-hair'd Nereides . On crooked Lyre sing thou with art , L●tona , and swift Cynthia's dart : Whilest our last strain her praise unfolds , Who Cnidos , and bright Cyclads holds : And Paphos with payr'd Swans doth view ; The night shall likewise have his due . ODE XXIX . By Sir. R. F. To MAECENAS . He invites him to a merry Supper , laying aside public● cares . OFf-spring of Tyrrhene Kings ; I have , Waiting thy leisure in my Cave , Of mellow Wine an unbroacht But , With Spicknard and Rose buds , to put Upon thy hair . Break off delay : Do not moist Tybur still survay , And Aesulaes declining hill , And his that did his Father kill . Leave fulsome plenty , and thy proud Palace whose head is in a cloud : Respite the love of smoak , and noise , And all that wealthy Rome enjoyes . Rich men are mostly pleas'd with change , And cleanly meals in a poor grange , Without their Tapestries , unplough The furrows of a careful Brow. Andromed now peeps with his star , Now Procyon shews the Dog not far , He barks , and Phoebus kindling Raies Hasle to bring back the sultry daies . The Shepherd now with his faint Flock Looks , panting , for a gushing Rock , The horrors of a gloomy wood ; And no air stirs to crisp the flood . Thou mind'st affairs of State , and With fears for Rome ) busiest thy thought fraught What Scythians , what the B●ctrians think , And those that distant Tanais drink . Wise God hath wrapt in a thick cloud What is to come : and la●ghs aloud When Mortals fear more then their share . Th●ngs present manage with due care : The rest are carried like a stream , Which now runs calm as any dream ●●to the Tyrr●ene sea ▪ anon ( Beyond all limits overflown ) Sweeps with 〈◊〉 herds , and flocks , And trees intire , are broken rocks , Making the woo●● and mountains roar . That man has 〈…〉 For a hard 〈◊〉 , that can say Into his Soul , 〈◊〉 to day . To morrow 〈…〉 or rain , Yet cannot or 〈…〉 vain , ●That which wa● yesterday nioy'd . Fortune that knows the 〈◊〉 part , To use her 〈◊〉 with proud art , Her fickle 〈◊〉 , now bestows 〈◊〉 , now on another throws . If she stay , 〈◊〉 if she will pack , ● gave her all her presents back , ( Like Wo●ers when a match is broke ) 〈◊〉 wrapping me in my old cloak , My vertue , marry the next hower 〈◊〉 Povertie with out a Dower . When North winds bellow , 't is not I 〈◊〉 scar'd to wretched prayers , and cry Let not my Spice , my Silks increase The riches of the greedie seas . When men may be in Oars convaid Through Pontick stormes , then I will trade . ODE XXX . By Sir R. F. By writing Lyricks , he saith , He hath provided better for the Immortality of his Name , then if he bad procured Brazen Statues , and Pyramids to be e●ected to him . And intimates that his chief praise would be . That he was the first of the Latins , who in this kind of Verse imitated the Greeks . A Work out-lasting Brass , and higher Then Regal Pyramids proud Spire , I have absolv'd . Which storming windes , The Sea that turrets undermines , Tract of innumerable daies , Nor the rout of time can raze . Totally I shall not die , And much of me the Grave shall flie . Posterity my name shall boast , When Rome her self in Rome is lost . Where like a King loud Aufid reigns , Where Daunus ( poor in stream ) complains To neighb'ring Clowns : I shall be sed The man , that from an humble head T' a Torrent fwoln did first inspire A Roman Soul in Grecian Lire . I labour with deserved praise ; Crown , crown me ( willing Muse ) with Baies . The End of the Third Book . ODES . BOOK IV. ODE I. To VENUS . Argument . Arriv'd to Fifty nox , he should His Pen from amorous Theams with-hold : Yet night and day doth Ligurine his heart to fervent love incline . Intermissa Venu : THou Venus dost commence again Thy long suspended wars . O pray refrain : I am not as I wont to be , While gracious Cynera ruled over me . Dire mother of sweet loves forbear Me , now obdur'd and at my Fiftieth year , T' incline to thy soft 〈…〉 Where fair-teng'd young mens flattries court the to In Paulus M●ximus 〈◊〉 , Thou drawn with 〈◊〉 more fitly shalt corrouze , And want on it : if thou desire T' inflame thy flagrant Liver with loves Fire , He , noble , and of Comely , race , And a good pleader in his Clients case , And for an hundred arts renown'd , Shall spread thine Ensigns through the ample round ▪ And when he laughs , more prevalent Than those large gifts his Rival did present , He under Cypress-roof shall make Thee alli of Marble nigh the Albane lake . There copious store of Fra●kincense Shalt thou snuff up , to recreate thy sense , And lyve , with Phrygian pipe , and fl●te , All shall thine ears prom●scuously salute . There Youths and tender Virgina , they Thy sacred power advancing , twice a day , Shall with their candid feet rebound , Like Pries●s of Bacchus three times from the ground , No woman , nor young youth love I , Nor am I prone to vain credulity , Nor in carro●z●●g to c●●test , Nor with f●●sh Flowers my temples to invest ▪ But why , 〈◊〉 Lygurinus , why Glide 〈◊〉 tears thus slowly from my eye ? Why in the midst of language trips My eloquent tongue with unseemly slips ? I , when surpriz'd with gentle sleep , Do thee ( methinks ) in my imbracements ●e●p : Now o'r woode and Mars his plain , O hard of heart / thee prosecute amain . ODE II. By Sir R. F. To Antonius Julus , the son of Mark Anthony , the Triumur . That it is dangerous to imitate the ancient Poets . WHo thinks to equal Piudar , tries With waxen wings to reach the Skies , Like him that ( falling ) a name gave T' his watry grave . As a proud stream that swoln with rain , Comes pouring down the hills amain , So Pindar flows , and fears no drouth , Such his deep mouth : Worthy the Bayes , whither he powre From unexhausted Springs a showre Of lawless Dytherambs , and thunders In bolder numbers : Or sings of Gods , and Heroes ( seed Of Gods ) whose just swords did outweed The Centaures , and Chimera stout Her flames put out : Or mourns some youth , from his sad spouse Unkindly torn , whose strength and prowes And golden mind he lists to th' skie , And lets not die . This Theban Swan , when he will sing Among the clouds , raises his wing On a stiff gale . I like the Bee Of Calabrie , Which ( toiling ) sucks beloved Flowers About the Thymie Groves , and Skowrs Of Fount-well Tyber , frame a terse But humble verse . Thou Anthony in higher strains Chaunt Caesar , when he leads in chains Fierce Germans , his victorious brows Crown'd with Bay-boughs ▪ Then whom a greater thing , or good , Heaven hath not lent the earth , nor shou'd Though it refin'd the age to th' old Saturnian gold . Thou shalt sing to the publick playes For his return , and Holy-dayes For our prayers heard , and wrangling pleas Bound to the peace . Then I ( if I may then be heard ) Happy in my restored Lord , Will joyn i th' close , and ô ! ( I le say ) O Sun-shine day ! And ( thou proceeding ) we 'l all sing , Io Triumph ! And agin Io Triumph ! At each turning Incense burning . A Hecatomb's requir'd of thee , And weaned Calf excuses me , In high grass fat and frisking now , To pay my vow . Resembled in whose shining horns , The increasing Moon his brow adorns ; Save a white feather in his head All sorrel red . A Paraphrase on the same Ode , by A. C. 1. PIndar is imitable by none ; The Phoenix , Pindar , is a vast species alone ; Who er'e but Dedalus with Waxen wings could flie , And neither sink too low , nor soar too high ? What could he who follow'd claim , But of vain boldness the unhappy fame , And by his fall a Sea to name ? Pindars unnavigable song , Like a swoln Flood from some steep mountains pours along ▪ The Ocean meets with such a voice From his enlarg'd mouth , as drowns the Oceans noise . 2. So Pindar does new words and figures roul Down his impetuous Dithyrambique tide , Which in no Channel daignst ' abide , Which neither bankes nor dikes controul , Whither th' immortal Gods he sings In a no less immortal strain , Or the great acts of God-descended Kings , Who in his numbers still survive and raign Each rich Embroidred line , By his Sacred hand is bound ; Which their triumphant brows around , Does all their Starrie-Diadems out-shine . 3. Whither at Pisa's race he please To carve in Polisht verse , the Conqueror● 〈◊〉 ▪ Whither the swift , the skilful , or the strong , Be crown'd in his nimble artful vig'rous song , Whither some brave young mans untimely Fate , In words worth dying for , he celebrate Such mournful , and such pleasing words , As joy to his Mothers , and his Mistress grief assords . He bids him live , and grow in fame , Among the Stars he sticks his name ; The Grave can but the dross of him devour , So small is Deaths , so great the Poets power . 4. Loe , how the Obsequious wind and swelling air , The Theban Swan does upwards bear Into the welks of Clouds ; where he does play , And with extended wings opens his liquid way : Whilst , alas , my timerous Muse , Unambitious tracts pursues , Does with weak unballast wings , About the massie brooks and springs , About the trees new blossom'd heads , About the Gardens painted beds , About the Fields and flowry Meads , And all inferiour beauteous things , Like the laborious Bee , For little drops of honey flee ; And there with humble sweets , contents her industry . ODE III. By Sir. R. F. To MELPOMENE . That be is born to Poetry , and by the benefit thereof , hath obtained immortality and glory . WHom thou Melpomene Hast smil'd on in his infancie , Him neither Isthmian game Shall ever for a wrestler fame ; Nor stout Olympick steeds Victorious draw ; nor Martial deeds Shew to the Capitoll A Lawrel-crowned General For faming Kings : but floods Which wash rich Tybur , and green woods Their bushy locks grown long , Make big with an Aeolian song . Queen Rome hath noted me Of her own sacred Quire to be , Where sweet-tongu'd Poets sing ; And now I fear not envies sting . O Muse ! whose sugard words Are married to the golden Chords : Who , if thou touch their tongues , Giv'st to mute Fishes Swan-like songs : T is ( all ) thy Boon , that I Am pointed at as I pass by Romes Lyric : thine it is , I live , and please , if I do this . ODE IV. By Sir. R. F. He celebrates the Victories of Drusus Nero ( who was Son-in-law to Augustus Caesar ) over the Rhaetiars and Vindelicians : Also commemorates certain valiant deeds of Claudius Nero. AS th' Armour-bearer of great Iove ( Made King of all that soars above , For stealing him from Troy The * yellow-tressed Boy ) Youth whilom and his Native courage Drew from his nest ere he could forage : And now soft Winds , being fair , Teach him to from i th' air Unwonted steps : Anon more bold With hostile force assaults a fold ; Resisting Snakes anon For fight and prey sets on : Or such as kids a Lion view From tawny mother weaned new , Ready in pastures sweet To hansel his first teeth : Such Rhaetians did behold and flie Drusus beneath the Alpes , who why They carry at their backs An Amazonian Ax , I lift not to determine here : Perhaps nor can . But this is clear Their long Victorious bands Subdu'd by a Boy 's hands , Felt what a mind right gor , and true-●red under lucky roofs could do , What Caesars fatherly Care of the Claudii . A valiant man gets men of spirit ; Ev'n beasts their fathers mindes inherit ; Nor doth the bird of Iove Get a degenerous Dove . But learning inward strength thrusts forth , And Princely breeding confirms worth : Still where good precepts want , Good Plants turn recreant . What unto Nero's , Rome thou ow'st , Speak Alpes , and Asdrubals red Ghost , And that bright day to thee The black Clouds made to flee : The first , since the dire African Through the Italian Cities ran Like fire through Piny woods , Or storms on Tuscan Floods . Thenceforth thy youth with prosperous pains Still grew ; and thy religious fanes , Sackt by the Punick sword , Had their chac'd Gods restor'd ; And perjur'd Hannibal ' gan say At length ; Porr sheep ( of wolves the prey ) We worry , whom to flie Were a great victory . The Nation that through flames of Troy , And Tyrrhene billows did convoy Their Gods , and Babes , and hoar Sires , to th' Ausonian shore , Like a dark Oak on the rich top Of Algidum , which Hatchets lop , Grows by it loss , and takes Strength from the very axe . Not mangled Hydra more increast Vnder Alcides , nor that beast Iason , or he subdu'd Of Thebes , more lives renew'd . Plunge them ith'sea ; they swim fresh out : Foyl them , with double force they 'l rout The Conqueror : and sight As in a Mistress fight . Now shall I send no more proud Posts To joyful Carthage . Lost , O! lost's Now Asdrubal is slain , The glory of our name . What is 't but N●ros can effect ? Whom Heavens with prosperous stars protect , And their own prudent care Clews through the Maze of War. ODE V. By Sir R. F. To AUGUSTUS . That he would at length return to the City . Describes the peace and happiness which Italy injoyed under his Government . HEavens choicest gift , Romes greatest stay , Now thou art too too long away : The holy Senate urge thy word For soon return , return . Afford , Like day , thy presence ; like the Spring Give a new life to every thing : The first , good Prince , our night will chace , The second will prolong our dayes . As a fond mother for her son , Whom , having over seas been gone Above a year , the envious wind Keeps back from her embraces kind ; And now she eyes the Vane , and prayes , And from the crooked shore doth gaze : So , with a loyal passion strook , The People for their Caesar look . For now the Oxen walk in peace : Corn , and white innocence increase : The cleared Main the Sea-men sail : Faith promises , and dares not fail . The married Bed unsoil'd remains , Custom and law preventing stains : Babes , like the father , praise the Mother : Punishment is Sins Twin-brother . Who fears cold Scythians ? who the Medes ? Fierce sons of Germany , who dreads ? Whilest Caesar doth in safety raign , Who is afraid of Wars with Spain ? Each man his proper Field doth till , And hides the Sun behind his hill : Returning then to sup with Glee , His second course is praising thee . For thee he prayes , to thee propines , Thee with his houshold gods he joyns , As , for like reason , thankful Greece Did Castor and great Hercules . Long last these golden Holy-dayes ! Thus Italy for thy life prayes : Sprinkled at night , not chang'd at morn , When to dry labour they return . ODE VI. To Apollo and Diana . Argument . He doth in Saecularian verse Phoebus , and Diana's praise rehearse . Dive quem . GOd , whose revenge for boasts , the crew From Niobe sprung , and Tytius knew , And great Achilles , who did Troy Almost destroy . The greatest souldier 's not like thee , Though Sea-bred Thetis son he be , Who did with dreadful Javelin make Troys turrets shake . No Pine with keen edg'd-axe hewn down , Nor Cypress with East-blasts o'r-thrown , So amply fell , his Carcass found On Trojan ground . He ne'r ( as sculkt in horse compil'd For Pallas sacrifice ) beguil'd Ill-id ling Troy , and Priams Court , With dancing sport . But publickly in flames had flung ( O dire ? ) each Grecian infant young , Yea formless Embroyes not yet come From Mothers womb ; Had not thy own , and Venus prayer Prevail'd with father Iove , to rear Walls f●r Aeneas toyles , of state , And better fate . O Phoebus shrill Thalias theam , Who lav'dst thy looks in Xanthus stream , Protect the honour'd Daunian Muse , Smooth Agyeus . 'T was Phoebus gave thee wit , and art , And name of Poet did impart . Ye noblest Maids , and youths of high - Born ancestry ; Ye guarded in Diana's bounds , Whose bow swift Stags , and Lynces wounds , My Lesbian measures patron stand , And guide my hand : Chaunting ( as of old ) Diana's Sun , And the still light-augmenting Moon , Fructiferous , making Moneths to hie On speedily . Now wed , thou 'lt say : I , who each Verse Of Horace knew , did Layes rehearse T' th' Gods , when ev'ry age in use Did feasts reduce . ODE VII . By Sir R. F. To L. Manlius Torquatus . Proposing the arrival of the Spring , and the equal necessity to all men of dying , without hopes of living again , and proposing likewise the change and vicissitude of all things , he invites to lead a merry and pleasant life . THe snows are thaw'd , now grass new cloaths the earth , And trees new hair thrust forth . The season 's chang'd , and brooks late swoln with rain , Their proper banks contain . Nymphs with the Graces linkt dare dance around Naked upon the ground . That thou must die , the year and howers say Which draw the winged day . First Spring , then Summer , that away doth chase , And must it self give place To Apple-bearing Antumn , and that past , Dull Winter comes at last . But the decays of time , Time doth repair : When we once plunged are Where good Aeneas , with rich Ancus wades , Ashes we are , and shades . Who knows if Iove unto thy life 's past score Will adde one morning more ? When thou art dead , and Rhadamanthus ●ust Sentence hath spoke thee dust , Thy blood , nor eloquence can ransome thee , No nor thy piety . For chast Hippolytus in Stygian night Diana cannot light : Nor Theseus break with all his vertuous pains , His dear Perithous chains . A Paraphrase on the same Ode . THe snow is gone , the grass returns To Fields , the Perucks to the trees , Earth playes with her varieties . Each River in Consumption mourns , And humbly glides beneath her bourns , Contain'd within her banks degrees . The naked Graces lead the dance , With whom the Nymphs in measures more , The sliding years our hopes reprove ; Which to Eternity advance , And the swift howers their speed inhance , The day by snatches to remove . Soft Western gales allay the cold , On the Sprlngs heels the Summer treads , It self then to destruction leads . Where Autumn does her fruits unfold , Straight comes the Winter stiffe and cold , And life with lazie humour deads . Yet Moons may wane , and soon increase , But when once we thither go , Where wealthy men and worthy too , Must all lay down their heads at last , When their needless toyls are past , To dust and ghost we vanish all ; Who knows that those great powers on high , The present sum of these our dayes , Which by to morrows reckoning raise ? Our heirs as well as we must die , And from our clutcht hands all will flie , Which our kind will to them conveys . That once among the dead thou be , And the just Judge do sentence give , In glorious state on all that live : Thee no extraction thence shall free , No eloquence , no piety , Thy life recover , or reprieve . No Father can , though much he mourn , From the dark vale of shade beneath , Restore his guiltless Babe to breath ; Nor friend can make his friend return , When once imprison'd in his Urn , From cold forgetfulness and death . ODE VIII . By Sir R. F. To Martius Censorinus . That there is nothing which can make men more immortal , then the verses of Poets . MY friends , I would accommodate With goblets , Grecian tripods , Plate Of Corinth - Brass : and , Censorine , The worst of these should not be thine : That is to say , if I were rich In those same antique pieces , which Parrhasius and Scopas fame ; He skill'd to paint , in stone to frame This , now a God , a Mortal now . But I have not the means ; nor thou A mind , or purse , that wants such knacks . Verse thou dost love . Thou shalt not lack For Verse . And hear me what 't is worth , Not inscrib'd Marbles planted forth To publick view , which give new breath To great and good men after death : Not the swift flight of Hannihal , And his threats turn'd to his own wall : Not perjur'd Carthage wrapt in flame , By which young Scipio brought a name From conquer'd Africk : speaks his praise So loud as the Pierian Layes . Nar , were Books silenc'd could'st thou gain The Guerdon of thy vertuous pain ? What had become of Ilia's child She bare to Mars , had darkness veil'd The merits of our Romulus ? From Stygian waters Aeacus , Vertue and fav'ring verse assoils , And consecrates to the blest Isles : A man that hath deserv'd t' have praise , The Muse embalms ; She keeps Heavens Keys , Thus Hercules ( his labours past ) With Iupiter takes wisht repast : The sons of Leda stars are made , And give the sinking Sea-man aid ; Good Bacchus , crowned with Vine-leaves , His drooping Voraries relieves . ODE IX . By Sir R. F. To LOLLIO . That his writings shail never perish : Vertue without the help of Verses is buried in oblivion . That he will sing Lollio's praises , whose vertue he now also celebrates . LEast thou should'st think the words which I ( By sounding Aufid born ) compile To marry with the Lute b'a skill Never before reveal'd , shall die : Though Homer lead the Van , the Muse Of Pindar , nor Alcaeus heights , Grave Stesichore , nor Caean sighs , Are silenc't , or worn out of use . Nor what of old Anacreon plaid , Hath time defac't : Love lights his fire ▪ And with his Quiver wears the Lyre Of the yet fresh Aeolian Maid . Helen was not the onely she A curled gallant did inflame , The splendour of his Royal train , And Gold and Pearls embroyderie . Nor Teuc●r first that drew a strong Cydonian Bow. Trojans had fought Before : nor that age onely wrought Deeds worthy of the Muses song . Nor valiant H●ctor , and the brave Deiphob , were the onely men Receiv'd deep wounds upon them then , Their children and chafte wives to save . Men slasht ere Diomed was made : But all are in oblivion drown'd , And put unmourn'd into the ground , For lack of Sacred Poets aid . Vertue that 's buried , and dead Sloth , Differ not much . Un-understood Thou shalt not die ; nor so much good As thou host acted feed the Moth. Lollio thou art a man hast skill To fathome things : that being tride In either Fortune , could'st abide In both up-right , and Lollio still . Of coverous fraud a scourge severe : On whom the all-attracting Gold Could with its Tenters ne'r take hold : Nor Consul of one year . When ere Avertuous Magistrate , and true , Shall call good , gain , bid Bribes avaunt ; Upon Opposers bellies plant His conqu'ring Flags ; Lollio , that 's you . He is not happy that hath much : But who so can his mind dispose To use aright what Heaven bestows , He justly is accounted such : If he know how hard want to bear : And fear a crime , more then his end ; If for his Country , or his Friend To stake his life he doth not fear . And strain'd 'mongst herbs my palate to delude ? Or some damn'd dose Canidia brew'd ? When Iasons love Medea's heart had caught , He chief , and fairest Argonaut ; Who bulls combined never yoak'd before , With Garlick she besmear'd him ore . With this that harlot Glauca she bespred , And on the wings of Dragons fled . An influence so rageful never rent Apulia's droughty continent , Nor gore-steept garment ere more servent fri'd On powerful Hercules his side . But if thou ' gain provide me such a dish , Maecenas merry friend , I wish Thy sweet-heart nicely may thy kisses flie , And on the utmost Bed-stock lie . EPODE IV. By Sir T. H. To Volteius Mena , Pompey's freed-man . THat disaccord between us two I find , Which Natures law hath lambs and wolves disjoyn'd . ( O thou , whose sides with Spanish whips are torn , And galled legs with stubborn fetters worn . ) Though , proud of wealth , thou walk with pompous pace , Fortune correcteth not ignoble race . Seest not when to the Capitol through the Town , Thou stalk'st along clad in thy Six-ell Gown , How Indignation limitless , and free Of passers to and fro reflects on thee ? He , who was earst with Triumvirs smart blows , Lash'd till the loathing Beadle weary grows ; A thousand plough'd Falernian Akers brags , And treads the Appian way with well pac'd-nags , And on chief Benches sitteth ( in despight Of Otho's law ) a most accomplish'd Knight ! What needs great Caesar , then to go about So many goodly ships to furnish out 'Gainst wretched Pirates , and the slavish hand , This , this man dignify'd with prime command ! EPODE V. By Sir T. H. A noble youth , whom Canidia , and other Witches had stoln , and set in the earth up to the chin , purposing to famish him , that they might by Art Magick make a Love-drink of his Liver and Marrow . O God , who e're in Heaven dost guide The earth , and men which here abide , What means this noise , and why on me , Do you all look so rufully ? Ah , for thy childrens sake forbear , If at such Births Lucina were . By this vain Purple robe , I pray , By Iove , who will not like your way , Why frown you on me , Step-dame like , Or beast , whom eager Hunters strike ? While here the trembling Lad doth stay , Made to dispoil from rich array H●s tender body ( which might force The cruel Thracian to remorse : ) Canidia , whose unkembed head Was with short Vipers filleted , Commands from Graves wild Fig-tree torn : And Cypress , which doth Becres adorn : Eggs steept in Blood of Toads , to bring , With feathers from the Scritch-Owles wing ; Hearbs of Iolco's baneful field , And poysons , Thessaly doth yield ; Bones snatch'd from jaws of hungry Bitch , To burn with flames of Colchique witch . Quick Sagan , who doth waters fling , Fetch'd from Avernus loathsom Spring , Bristles her hair , as moody Bore , Or the Sea-urchin near the shore . While Veia free from all remorse Of horrid deeds , the ground 'gan force With stubborn spade ; and hard she swet That in it , the whelm'd stripling set , Might twice or thrice a day be ply'd With view of viands , till he dy'd : In which , up to the chin he stood , As they who wade within the flood . That his drain'd Marrow , Liver dry , Her with a Love-drink might supply ; When once his fainting eyes were spy'd To sink at sight of food , deny'd . Nay easeful Naples did believe , And the neat Towns for receive That Folia of Ariminum Lustful ( man like ) did thither come : Whose spells have power from Orbes of light , The charmed Moon , and Stars to fright . Canidia here for spleen prepar'd , With black teeth gnawing nails unpar'd , What mutter'd she ? what not ? O ye You conscious Arbiters with me , Night , and Diana Queen of Rest , Now we perform our dark behest Be present here : your anger throw , And powerful God-head on my foe . While fearful beasts close covert keep ▪ Charm'd with the ease of gentle sleep . Let the Suburran dogs report , That all may jeer it , the resort Of the old wanton , sleek with Nard ; Better my hands have n'ere prepar'd . How , how ! why do Medaea's charmes And deadly drugs cause greater harmes , Wherewlth she took revenge at full On Creons daughter , that proud Trul , When a Gown dipt in poyson'us Bane , Turned the guift and Bride to flame ? But plant nor root in craggs conceal'd Rests from my notice , unreveal'd : Yet Varus , not with love in ure , In beds perfumed , sleeps secure : But , ah , he walkes , freed by the spells Of some , whose knowledge more excells . O Varus , by strange drugs , to me ( Damn'd to indure much misery ) Thou shalt return ; nor thy sick mind From Marsian charmes shall comfort find . A stronger Cup I will devise Fill'd for thee , who dost me despise . Heaven shall below the Sea descend , And o're the Sea the Earth distend ; If thou like pitch in dusky fire Consumest not with my desire . The Boy sought them to sooth no more With gentle words , as heretofore , But doubtful what he first should speak , Thus direfully doth silence break ; Let charmes and spels do what they can , They cannot change the Fate of man. I 'le haunt you still : For setled hate No sacrifice doth expiate . When forc'd by you my soul is fled , I 'le come a Fury to your bed , And a sad Ghost your faces tear ( Such power on earth have Spirits here : ) And as the Night-mare , on your chest , I 'le vex , and scare you from your rest . The thronging people in the street , Base Hags , shall stone you , when yee meet : Your limbs untomb'd the Wolves shall tear , And Vulters to Esquiliae bear : Nor ( ah ) my parents after me Shall fail this spectacle to see . EPODE VI. Against Cassius Severus , a revileful and wanton Poet. Argument . The surly and crabb'd qualities Of Poet Cassius , he descries . Quid immerentes . WHy ( currish Dog ) dost harmless guests assail , But not 'gainst Wolves dar'st wag thy tail ? Why , if thou dar'st , with menaces so vain Assault'st not me , who 'l turn again ? For like Colossian masty , or red-flect Laconian dogs , which herds protect , Through profound snowes with flat-cowch'd ear I 'le chace Whatever obvious game I face . When the woods eccho with thy dismal cries , Thou snook'st at morsels 'fore thine eyes . Beware , beware : for I 'le sharp horns prepare , To push those that revileful are ; Like him whom curst Lycambe slighted so , Or Bupalus his tart-mouth'd foe . What ? if calumniated once , should I Put 't up and childe-like pule and cry ? EPODE VII . By Sir R. F. To the People of Rome . An Execration of the second Civil Warre waged after the death of Julius , by Brutus and Cassius on the one side ; on the other by Octavius , M. Anthony , and Lepidus . WHy , why your sheath'd swords drawn again ? Whether rush ye , impious brood ? Have not the earth yet and the main , Drunk enough of Latin blood ? Not that proud Carthage burnt might be , Rival of the Roman State : Nor the chast Mistress of the Sea Britain , on our Triumphs wait ; But that the thing the Parthians crave , Rome , may make her self away . Lions and Wolves this temp'rance have , On their Kind they will not prey . Is 't a blind rage , or force more strong , Or Crime drives you ? Speak . They look As pale as Death , and hold their tongue , As their Souls were Planet-strook . 'T is so : dire Fates the Romans haunt , And a Fratricidal guilt : Since blood of Remus innocent , On the cursed ground was spilt . EPODE VIII . To a Lustful old Woman ▪ Argument . The fulsome shape , and vitious life , Of a lascivious aged wife . Rogare Longo . THou to demand of rot-consumed date , What should my strength emasculate ? When all thy teeth black-furr'd with Canker show , And Old-age wrinckle plows thy brow , And filthy arse 'twixt buttocks wither-dry'd , Like some raw-bon'd Cows gapes so wide . But thy down-swagging breasts extub'rant teats , Like Mares dugs kindle Cupids heats : Thy down-soft bellie , and thy spindle thighs , Sustain'd on legs , which pregnant rise . Live happily : let Statutes triumphal Adorn thy pompous funeral : Nor may more precious chains of pearl invest ' Ere any marri'd womans brest . How is 't that Stoic Treatises are by , And 'mongst thy silken pillows lie ? Are rustick Loons less pollent at the sports ? Or doth their courage less retort ! Whose — that thou may'st urge to spend , Thou must with — contend . EPODE IX . By Sir T. H. To MAECENAS . He beforehand feels the contentment he shall take from Augustus his victory against M. Anthony , and Cleopatra . VVHen shall I Caecube wines , that stored lie For banquets , glad at Caesars victory ( So Iove will have it ) in thy stately house , With thee , my dear Maecenas , free carrouze ? Resounding notes that mingle Flutes with Lyre ; This , Dorique , speaking joy , that Phrygian , Ire : As when Neptunian Pompey droven , fled Through straigthned seas , with navie ruined , Who Rome had threatned with those chains , which he Had ta'ne from treacherous Servitors , made free The Roman Souldier by a woman ty'd In slavish bands ( ah this will be deny'd By after times ) lugs armes , earth , stakes , and tent , Striving her with'red Eunuches to content ; And Phoebus 'mongst their ensignes doth espy , Her net-like and lascivious canopie . But the bold French proclaiming Caesars name , Thence with two thousand Horse straight hither came ; And the swift prowess of hostile vessels lie Turn'd to the left hand , ready set to flie . O gladsome triumph ! thou retard'st the drift Of golden chariot , and young beifers gift : O gladsome triumph ! from Iugurthian war ▪ Thou brought'st no captain might with this compare : Nor African , whose noble valours praise , Did lasting monuments or'e Carthage raise . The foe , by Sea , and Land , now vanquish'd fears , And a black Cassock for a purple wears ; Not knowing whither adverse windes will cast Him , on rich Crete with hundred Cities grac'd , Or on the Quick-sands with South-billows toss'd , Or the wide main in danger to be lost . Boy , cups bring hither for a larger draught ; Let Chian , or the Lesbian grape be sought : Or fill Caecubian wines without delay , Which may a queezie loathing drive away : The care , and fear of Caesars happy state , Let us with merry Bacchus dissipate . EPODE X. Against Maetius a Poet. Argument . He wisheth raging stormes may rise , And Maetius with wrack surprize . Mala Soluta . THe ship inauspica●ely quits the Bay , And noisome Maetius hoists away . Anster , see thou impe●uously rave , Dashing both sides with furious wave . Let gloomy Eurus with his stormes adverse The Tacklings and broke Oars disperse . 〈…〉 such violent 〈◊〉 extend , As from high hills an Holm 〈…〉 . On pitchie nights let no stars luster shine , When sad Orion doth decline : Nor let the Ocean tranquiller stand , Than for the Grecians conquering band , When wrathful Pallas , waving fired Troy , Would impious Ajax sail destroy . O how do thy industrious sailers sweat ! Thy self with pallid fear repleat , Howling out sadly woman-like laments , And vows , which ireful Iove resents : When showry Notus lowdly bellowing , I' th' Adrian Gulph doth ship-wrack bring . But if the crooktly-winding shore display Thy still stretch'd limbs for Corm'rants prey , A lustful Goat , and a She-lambkin shall A Sacrifice to tempests fall . EPODE XI . To Pettius his Chamber-fellow . Argument . He Cupid-struck cannot the while To compose Verses frame his stile . Petti nil me . PEttius , I take no pleasure , as before , In writing Verse , Now Cupids arrows pierce : Cupid , who me ' ●ove all inflameth sore With wilder heat Of Youths and Virgins neat . Now three Decembers woods have shed their glory , Since ore I gave For Inachia to rave . Oh shameful folly ! what a Citie-storie ( 'lass ) I became ! My junkettings I blame , When paleness , silence , and long sighs exhal'd From lungs profound , Descri'd my passions wound : And I lamentful moan'd that wealth prevail'd 'Gainst honestie , And distress'd ingeny : When debaucht Bacchus did my secrets broach From heated breast , With fervent liquors prest . But if free indignation once approach My boyling blood , And this distasteful flood Expel , which nought allaies my maladie : Shame profligate With great ones strife will hate . When I , thou hearing , these extoll'd on high , Charg'd to get home , I rov'd with vagrant roam , To those ( ah ) flintie thresholds , unkind posts , Which as I li'd , All bruis'd my shins , and side . Me now Lyciscas love ore-rules , who boasts T' exceed each she , In soft effeminacie , From whence no faithful counsels can me free A friend affords , Nor contumelious words . A new flame of some Virgin it must be , Or youth plump-round , With long hair backward wound . EPODE XII . Against a libidinous old Woman . Argument ▪ He scolds a Whore , who did him court To sate her Lust with Venus sport . Quid tibi vis . WHat mean'st thou Woman for black El'phants fit ? Why send'st me tokens , why are letters writ To me nor vig'rous , nor obtuse of nose ? For I quick-sented can as soon disclose A Polype , or an arm-pits rammish scent , As well nos'd hounds explore where sows are pent , What ●tench , what sweat her wizned limbs hath drench'd , When ( Natures kneener ardours in me quench'd ▪ ) She hastes to satisfie her unbridled lust : Nor bides her all sweat-steeped cheeks cerust , Or dawb'd with Crocodiles ordure : with mad reaks , She now both Bed-stock , and the Matt'ress breaks : Thus jears my Languors with revileful flout ; Thou with Inachia could'st hold longer out , Yea , thrice a night : with me at once thou 'rt tir'd . A Pox take Les●ia , who when I enquir'd For tuff-back'd Actors , shew'd me thee so dull : Choan Amyntas giving me my full , Whose unfoyl'd — more stiff erected — Then ere a sapling in the loftie wood : For whom were garments ( which twice tincted show In Tyrian purple ) made ? for thee I trow . Least 'mongst his equals ere a guest should be Whom his dear sweet-heart better lov'd than thee . Oh wretch am I whom thou eschews as much ; As Lambes fierce Wolves , or Goats the Lions clutch . EPODE XIII . By Sir T. H. To his merry Friends , that they should pass the VVinte● pleasantly . ROugh tempests have the brow of heaven bent , And showers , and snows cause thickned airs descent : Now Thracian North windes , Seas and woods affray ; Friends , let us take occasion from the day ; While strength is fresh , and us it well becomes , Let 's old age banish , which the brow benumns . Boy , see you broach those elder Wines were prest , When Torquat first the Consulship possest : Speak not of other things . God will , perchance , Them to their Seat , with happy change advance . Let us in Persian unguents now delight ; And with Cylenian harp put cares to flight : As noble Chiron to Achilles sang ; Vnvanquish'● Mortal , that from Thetis sprang , Troy thee expects ; which Simois rouling Tide , And small Scamanders colder streams divide , VVhence thou no more ( the Sisters so ordain ) VVith thy blew Mother shalt return again . All sorrow there , with wine , and Song depress , ( Sweet comforts of deformed heaviness . ) EPODE XIV . By Sir R. F. To MAECENAS . That his love to Phryne , is the Cause why he doth not finish his promised Iambicks . 'T Is Death , my sweet Maecenas , when so oft You ask me , why a soft Sloth turns my sence , as if with thirsty draught I had together quaft L●the's oblivious lake into my blood . It is a God , a God , Forbids me finish my Iambicks , though Promis'd thee long ago . Be●●●ted thus Ana●rcon was 't is said Upon the S●mian Maid : W●o so●●'d his love out to a hollow Lyre With stumbling Feet . That fire Cons●mes thee too . If fairer burnt not Troy Besieg'd , in thy lot joy . Me a Bond-woman , such a one torments , As no one man contents . EPODE XV. To his Sweet-heart Neara . Argument . Our Lyric dolefully descryes Faithless Neaeraes perjuries . Noxerat . 'T Was night , and Cynthia lighted all the skie 'Mongst Stars of less fulgency , When thou , profaning Gods of power immense , T' act my will didst oaths dispence ; Not lofty Ivies th' Ilex closer graspt , Than thy limber armes me claspt : While Lambs fled Wolves , and while Orions orb Sailours bane , should seas disturb , VVhile unshorn Sol his hairy beams should dart , Thou would'st mutual love impart . Naeera ! how my vertue thou 'st bewail ! For less Flaccus spirit fail , For cliftier rivals he 'l not brook one night , And vext seek those that will requite , Nor once offended will he constant rest , If certain grief pierce his breast . But thou who now in favour happy reigns , Proudly vaunt'st at my disdains , Though rich in stock , and grounds , and to thy hands Pactole roll his Golden sands : Though truly vvrote oft-liv'd Pythag●ras , And fair Nereus thou surpass ; Yet she 'l her love to others ( 'lass ) translate , But then I 'le deride thy Fate . EPODE XVI . By Sir R. F. To the People of Rome . Commiserating the Common-wealth , in respect of the Civil VVars . NOvv Civil VVars a second age consume , And Romes ovvn Svvord destroyes poor Rome . Whom neither neighbouring Marsians could devour , Nor feared Porsenas Tuscan power ; Nor C●pua's rival valour , mutinies Of Bond-slayes , Treacherie of Allies ; Nor Germany ( blue-ey'd Bellona's nurse ) Nor Hannibal ( the Mothers curse ) We ( a blood-thirstie age ) our selves deface , And Wolves shall re-possess this place . The barbarous foe will trample on our dead ; The steel-shod horse our courts will tread ; And R●m●lus dust ( clos'd in religious Urn From Sun and tempest ) proudly spurn . All , or the ●ounder part , perchance would know , How to avoid this coming blow . 'T were best I think , like to the Phocean● , Who left their execrated lands , And hou●es , and the houses of their Gods , To Wolves and Bears for their aboads ▪ T' abandon all , and go where ere our feet Bear us by land , by sea our Fleet. Can any man better advice afford ? If not , in name of Heaven aboard ! But you must swear first to return again , When loosned Rocks float on the Main , And be content to see your Mother-town , When Betis washes the Alpes crown ; Or Appennine into the Ocean flies , Or new lust weds Antipathies , Making the Hind stoop to the Tygers love , The ravenous Kite cuckold the Dove : And credulous Heards , t' affect the Lions side , And Goats the salt Sea to abide . This , and what else may stop our wish'd return When all , or the good part have sworn , Fly hence ! Let him whose smooth and unfledg'd breast Misgives him , keep the rifled neast . You that are men , unmanly grief give o're And sail along the Tuscan shore , To the wide Ocean . Let us seek those Isle● Which swim in plenty , the blest soyles : Where the Earths Virgin-womb unplough'd is fruitful , And the unproyned Vine still youthful : The Olive Tree makes no abortion there , And Figs hang dangling in the air ; Honey distils from Oaks , and water hops With creeking feet from Mountain tops . The generous Goats without the Milk-maids call , Of their full bags are prodigal ; No evening wolf with hoarse alarums wakes The Flocks , nor breeds the up-land Snakes . And far●●er to invite us , the plump Grain , Is neither drunk with too much rain , Nor yet for want of mod'rate watring drie ; Such the blest temper of the skie . Never did Iason to those Islands guide His Pirat-ship , and whorish Bride . Sydonian Cadmus never toucht these shores , Nor false Ulysses weary Oars . No murrain rots the sheep , nor star doth scorch The Cattel with his burning torch . When Iove with brass the Golden age infected , These Isles he for the pure extracted . Now Iron raìgns , I like a Statue stand , To point good men to a good land . EPODE XVII . To CANIDIA . Argument . Canidia the Sorceress He doth his over-match confess : And supplicates her to give o're Her spells , and torture him no more . Iam , jam efficaci . I Now su●mit unto thy powerful skill , And beg by Proserpines imperial will , And by Dianaes steddy fixt decree , And by thy Charm-books which effectual be , To summon stars down from the Aetherial Sphear ; Thy Spells , Canidia , Oh at length forbear , And cease , O cease this giddy whirling wind . Proud Telephus , he dire Achilles mind Mov'd to relent ; though against him he had shown His Mysian squadrons , and sharp Javelins thrown . The Trojan dames did warlike Hector oyl , To ravenous birds , and dogs expos'd for spoyl ; When Priam quitting Troy , fell down prostrate Before Achilles , ah , too obstinate . Ulysses his industrious Sailors left Their br●sled limbs of hispid skins bereft , Circe appeas'd : then Reason did retreat , With speech and wonted favour to its seat . Thou now hast plagu'd me in abundant measure , O thou the Seamans and Merchants pleasure . Youths blossom's faded , and my Purple hew , My skin and bones are smear'd with black and blew ▪ My hair's turn'd hoary with thy dismal oyles , No leisures free me from heart-racking toiles : I 'me cruciated night and day with ire : Scarce can my grief extended lungs respire . I wretch am now convinced to believe , Sabellan charmes ( which I deni'd ) can grieve The heart , and Marsian Spells the head dispoil . What would'st thou more ? O sea , O land ? I broyl , As not Alcides stew'd in Nessus gore : Nor yet Sicilian Aetna rageth more With its e'r flagrant embers : Thou , till I Become light ashes scatter'd in the skie , Fry'st me , as 't were in Colchian poys'nous forge . When ends my pain ? what tribute wilt thou urge ▪ O speak ; And I religiously will pay Whatever mulct's impos'd ; prepar'd to slay Ev'n Hecatombs , or with dissembling song Chaunt thee for fair , for vertuous , and among Heavens Or●es to glister as a glorious Sphear . Castor and Pollux wrathful though they were , And smote him ●lind did Helens honour stain , Yet , won with prayers , restor'd his eyes again . Ev'n thou , who canst from phrenzies set me free , O 〈◊〉 not sprung from Sires of base degree , Nor skill'd in poor mens urns , to dissipate 〈◊〉 silent ashes after nine dayes dare . Thy heart is hounteous , and thy hands sincere , Fruitful thy Womb , and th' Midwi●e rinseth clear 〈…〉 with thy fluent blood , When thou from Child-bed skip'●t with livelihood . CANIDIA'S Answer . Argument . The 〈◊〉 ●ill not be wo● 〈…〉 his supplication : 〈…〉 up and down , 〈…〉 all ore the Town . Quid obscratis . WHy vainly pray'st thou to my lock'd-up ears ? A● well the Rock the nake-stript Sailor hears , When 〈◊〉 Neptune with his billows beats . Shalt thou ( Scot-free ) scoff our Cocyttian feats , Divulge licentious Cupids Sacrifice ? An Arch-priest-like o' th' Esquile Sorceries ; Revengeless blason our reproachful fames ? To truck with old P●lignian haggard dames , Or mix dispatching Pills , to what end is 't , If thou can'st not refeind thy destin'd twist ? The Fa●es ( poor wretch ) prolong thy irksome date , That still fresh torments may thy carcase bait . Pelops his tell-tale Sire for rest out cries , Wanting still what abounds before his eyes : For Rest Prometheus Vultur-chain'd makes moan , And Sisyphus his still down-tumbling stone Would roul aloft , but Iove gain-saies . And now Thou wouldst thy self precipitately throw From down steep clifts : Now Noric sword distain In thine own Guts , and ( loathing life ) in vain Striv'st with a Halter to conclude thy pain . Then on thy hateful shoulders will I ride , And make the earth stoop to my haughty pride . I , who Wax . 〈◊〉 can inspire with motion , As thou ( too curious ) know'st , and whose dark notion Can hale the Moon down by my abstruse Spells , And raise the dead up from their silent Cells , And fervent Phil●ers mix : Should I bewail , My Magic Art 'gainst thee cannot prevail ▪ Verses sung in the Secular games every Century of years , pronounced for the s●fety of the Roman Empire . PHoebus and Dian , Grovie Queen , Heavens ornaments ; as you have been , Still be you honour'd , ever 〈◊〉 : Gra●t what we ask on holy Feast . In which Sybi●l●'s verses ●each , Cha●te maids , and youths not 〈…〉 , Unto those Gods songs to recite , Who on the seaven-fold hills delight . ( Fair Sol ) who in thy chariot bright , Dost call forth Day , and shutt'st up Night ; And other , and the same dost come , Nought greater maist thou see than Rome . Ilythia , open wombes we crave For ripened Births , and Mothers save ; Whether we thee Lucina call , Or Cynthia , which produceth all . Goddess , bring Children forth , and bless Senates decrees , give good success To nuptial laws , that those who wed , May have a fruitful Marriage-bed . That ten-times-ten full Orbes mature , May us to songs and sports enure : Thrice in the splendour of day light , And thrice in shades of welcome night . And you truth ●telling Fates , to past Joyn future fortunes , that may last : That stable limits may enclose , What once to Mortals you propose . That Cattel may , and Corn abound , Wherewith fair Ceres shall be crown'd : And wholesome streams , with air as pure . May n●triments to plants assure . Ah Phoebus mild , withdraw thy dart , To suppliant youths thy grace impart : And Queen of Stars , who do'st appear By-forked ( Luna ) Virgins hear ▪ If Rome a work be of your store , And Trojan troops held Tybers shore : A part injoyn'd their seat to change , And with success from home to range : For whom secure , th'row Troy on fire Aeneas chaste in safe retire , Free passage open'd , and gave more To them , then they possest before . O Gods to youth grant matters sage , Gods give repose to quiet age ; And unto Romulus his blood , Wealth , issue , honour , all that 's good . Let Venus , and Anchises strain , Who give ye Oxen free from stain , In Wars atchievements bear the prize , And courteous be to enemies . The Median now by Sea and Land , Fears Roman power , and conquering hand : The Scythians now our friendship crave , And haughty Indians truce would have . Now Faith , Peace , Honour , modest look And Vertue scorned , which forsook Our City , dares return again , And blessed Plenty freely raig● . Phoebus , with radiant Bow , Divine , Gracious among the Muses nine ; Who doth with Heaven-inspir'd art , To crazie bodies health impart : If he Mount Palatine do grace , The weal of Rome , and Latian Race , To farther times and better end , May he these Centuries extend . And Dian who holds Aventine , And Algidus , may she incline To prayers of fifteen men , and hear Our childrens vows with friendly ear . Then I , and all well skill'd in Layes , Phoebus and Dians name to praise , Go home , with certain hopes , that Iove , And all the Gods these things approve . The end of the Epodes . SATYRES . BOOK I. SATYR I. By A. B. That Men are not contented with their Conditions . HOw comes it ( great Maecenas ) that there 's not A man , who lives contented with that lot Which choice inclin'd , or chance expos'd him to , But all applaud what others are and do ? Oh happy Merchant , then the Souldier sayes , When by old age and toil his strength decayes ; The Merchant when th' insulting billows rise , And toss his tottering Ship , Give me ( he cries ) The Souldiers life , for he meets in a breath A joyful victory or certain death . The Lawyer when he hears his Clients knock At 's gate before the crowing of the Cock , Admires the Country life , while the poor Swain , Being from his home up to the City drawn To follow Law-suits , does conclude no mens Conditions happier then the Citizens . But the whole rabble of this sort of men Would be so numerous it would tire the Pen Of Scribling Fabius ; so I 'le pass by those , And draw the matter to this point : Suppose Iove said , I 'le make you what you would be ; thou Who wert a Merchant , be a Souldier now . Thou that a Lawyer wert , shalt now commence A Husbandman ; change sides , and so pack hence You t' your new Calling , you to yours ; Nay , nay , Now your desires are granted , why d' you stay ? Fond fools ! you 'l not be happy , though you may . Is it not reason then great Iove should be Highly incensed , and declare that he Will be no more propitious unto them , But all their vain and various prayers contemn ? This is no laughing matter , nor would I Be thought to speak all this in Drollery , Though to blurt out a truth has never been ( In way of merriment ) esteem'd a sin . The flattering Master thus his Boys presents With Cakes , to make them learn their Rudiments . But let 's leave fooling , and be serious now ; The Clown that rends the pondrous Earth with 's plough , The cheating Tradesman , and the Souldier too , The Sea-man bold , who ploughs the Ocean through ; All these their various toils endure ( they say ) Meerly with this intention , that they may When they grow old , with peace injoy that store Which their industrious youth had gain'd before . Just like the Ant ( for that 's their pattern ) small In bulk , but great in thrift ; who draws in all That e're she can , and adds it to her store , Which she fore-seeing want , had heap'd before ; And in the rage of Winter keeps within , To feed on what her providence laid in : But neither sword , fire , water , heat , nor cold , Nor any thing keeps thee from getting Gold , Onely spurr'd on with that ambitious itch , To have the World say , Thou art Devilish rich . What good in thy vast heap of Treasur's found , Which thou by stealth dost bury under ground ? But if it be diminisht once , thou 'lt say Thy whole estate will dwindle soon away . ●nd if thou spend'st not out of it , what pleasure ●an'st thou take in a heap of hoarded Treasure ? 〈◊〉 thy Barn held ten thousand sacks of Wheat , ●et thou can'st eat no more then I can eat . Among thy fellow slaves when thou' rt pickt out To bear all their provision about , With which thy Shoulders gall'd and weary grow● . Thou eat'st no more then one that carried none . Or ( tell me prithee ) what the difference is To him that makes the Rules of Nature his , Whether he does a thousand Acres sow , Or on a hundred does his pains bestow ? But oh ( thou cri'st ) men do great pleasure reap In taking Gripes out of a plenteous heap . Yet since out of a little thou dost leave As much as we 've occasion to receive , Why should'st thou thy vast Granaries prefer Before our Willies , which much lesser are ? Or if thou hast occasion to take up Water enough to fill a Butt or Cup , Why should'st thou say , thou hast a greater will Out of that river , then this spring to fill ? Hence it proceeds infallibly , that those Who to their wills are superstitious , Uncurb'd desire drives them to this and that , Until at last they 'ld have they know not what . Whilst who confines his mind to Natures laws , The troubled muddy water never draws , Nor in the river does his life expire : But most of men deceiv'd by false desire , Say , Noughts enough ; 'cause they absurdly guess At what men are , by what they do possess . To such a Miser what is 't best to do ? Let him be wretched , ●ince he will be so . Thus that Athenian Monster Timon , which Hated Man-kind , a sordid Knave , but rich , Was wont to say , When ere I walk abroad The People hiss me , but I do applaud And hug my self at home , when I behold My chests brim-full with Silver and with Gold. So Tantalus , being extreamly drie , Courts the swifte stream , which does as coily flie . Why laughst thou Miser ? if thy name should be A little chang'd , the Fables told of thee , Who on thy full cramb'd Bags together laid , Do'st lay thy sleepless and affrighted head ; And do'st no more the moderate use on 't dare To make , then if it consicrated were : Thou mak'st no other use of all thy gold , Then men do of their pictures , to behold . Do'st thou no● know the use and power of coyn ? It buys bread , meat , and cloaths , ( and what 's more wine ; ) With all those necessary things beside , W●thout which Nature cannot be suppli'd . To sit up and to watch whole dayes and nights , To be out of thy wits with constant frights , To fear that thieves will steal , or fire destroy , Or servants take thy wealth , and run away . Is this delightful to thee ? then I will Desire to live without those Riches still . But if the pains of stomach , or the head , Or other sickness fix thee to thy bed , Hast thou a visitant to sit down by thee , Who with due food and Physick will supply thee ? Or make the D●ctor rid thee of thy pain , And to thy friends restore thee sound again ? Thy wife and children thy quick Death desire , So do thy friends and kindred : Ne're admire That they don't shew thee love , thou merit'st none , For before all thou preferr'st wealth alone . If thou thy friends or kindred would'st retain , And not be liberal , thy task 's as vain As his , who in the Field does teach an Ass T' obey the bridle , and to run a race . Make once an end of gaining , that the more Thou hast , the less thou 'st tremble to be poor . Begin to end thy labour , having got That which thou didst desire , and follow not That rich Umidius , whose chests did so swell , He measur'd's money which he could not tell , So sordid , that he never did go higher Then his mean'st Servants did , in his attire : And to his dying day in fear he stood , Least he should die meerly for want of food ; Till his bold Con●ubine did boldly do A Heroes act , and cut the Slave in two . But now thou'lt ask me , whether I 'de have thee , A Miser or a Prodigal to be ? Thou still art in extreams ; I would not have Thee covetous , nor a vain squandring Knave . 'Twixt rough Visellius and smooth Tanais The Eunuch , a vast difference there is . There is a mean in things , and certain lines Within which virtue still it self confines . But I 'le return from whence I came ; are none But greedy Slaves delighted with their own Conditions ? Do all praise each others lot , And pine to see their Neighbours Goat has got A Dug more full of Milk then theirs ? and ne're Themselves with the poorer sort of men compare : ( Though that 's the greater number ) but aspire Still to ore-top this man and that , whose higher ! It curbs the Spirit of that person which Tugs to grow great , when he meets one more rich , So when the Chariots from the Barriers are Let loose to run a Race , the Charioter Minds still those horses which out-stript his owne , Slighting those which by t'other are ou● gone . And hence it comes , we seldome find a man That sayes He has liv'd happily , and can Like a well-feasted-guest depart at last Contented with that part of 's life that past . Now 't is enough ; least you should think that mine 'S like Crispins Volumns , I will not add a line . SATYR II. By A. B. That while foolish men shun one Vice , they run into another . THe Players , Empricks , Beggars , and the noise Of Fidlers , all the roaring Damn-me boyes , And all that sort of cattel do appear Extreamly sad , and much concern'd to hear Their friend Tigillus is deceas'd ; For he Did treat them with great liberality . While the close miser , least he should be thought A prodigal ; o th' contrary , gives nought To his dear friend ( though ne're so much he need ) To cloath his body , or his belly feed . If one should ask the Prodigal , why he By an ungrateful sottish gluttony , That brave estate bequeath'd him by his friends And Ancestors , so prodigally spends ; And at great interest take up money too , Meerly in needless luxury to bestow : His answer is , Because he scorns to be Esteem'd a sordid fellow , or that he Has but a narrow soul : So up he 's cri'd By some , while others him as much deride . Fufidius the Usurer fears to have The Reputation of an unthrift Knave , Rich both in moneys out at use , and lands , But when he lends , he still detains in 's hands Five times the interest from the principal ; And where he finds his Debtors prodigal , Those he gripes most severely : He inquires For wealthy heirs new come of age , whose Sires Had been close-fisted to them and severe . Good God! what persons who shall come to hear Such horrid actions , won't exclaim ? But oh ! ( You 'l say ) he does 't for his livelihood . Oh no! You can't believe how much this love of Pelf , Makes this vile Slave an enemy to himself . Old Menedemus , whom the Comedy Brings weeping in , and living wr●tchedly For his lost son , could not himself torment More then this sordid Beast . To what intent All this is said , if you desire to know , It onely tends to this design , to show That fools , when they attempt one Vice to slun , Into the contrary do madly run . This man his garment down to th' ground does wear , And that so short his privities appear . Perfum'd Rufillus wears a gaudie coar , Gorgonius stinks as nastie as a Goat . Men do observe no means , but this mans flames Must be allay'd onely with Roman Dames . Another does a common Quean admire , That prostitutes her self to all for hire . A man of note came from the publick stews , And , to applaud his action , he did use Cato's Divine old Sentence , Bravely done , Go on , and prosper in what th' hast begun : For when the rage of Lust inflames your blood , 'T is lawful to come hither , but not good Another Nuptial bed to violate . While Cupiennius cries out , I hate To be applauded for this nicety , Give me anothers wife , she 's safe and free . 'T is worth the observation of all those That would not have uncleanness prosperous , To see how they are Plagu'd on every hand , How often they fall into danger , and How small , and seldome too , they pleasures gain , And those corrupted with much grief and pain . This leaps from th' top o'th'house , and thinks to flie , But breaks his neck ; and that 's whipt till he die ; This as he flies , 'mong thieves and robbers falls , And that with 's pur●e redeems his Genitals . This is by Foot-men buggar'd , and sometimes Those members which commit these shameful crimes , Do loose their Heads , and justly too ; all say , None but that rutting Galba dares lay , nay . But 't is more safe to venture your estate In Ships , that are but of the second rate ; Daughters of Captives that have been made free , Yet Salust plaid the fool as much as he That does commit adultery ; For he had A generous Soul , and would be very glad Of any good occasion , that he Might but express his liberalitie , ( In modest manner though ) he would dispence His money to all freely , yet from thence No damage came to him , no disrepute , But still he lov'd a gentle prostitute . This was that darling Vice he lov'd to th' life , But still he cri'd , I 'le meddle with no mans wife . Just so Marcaeus did , who heretofore Onely admir'd an honourable whore , And his Paternal Fortune fool'd away On a she-thing , that on the Stage did play . Yet still he said , I thank my stars , that I With wives of other men did never lie . But if with wh●res and mimicks he 'd to do , His fame more suffer'd , then his wealth came to . What satisfaction can it to us bring , To shun one person , and not ev'ry thing That every way does hurt us ? To destroy Our reputation , and to fool away Th' Estate our parents left us , certainly Is a great vice , which way so e're it be . So Villius , who had a mind to be The Son in Law of Sylla , how was he Severely punish'd ? Maul'd with Fists , nay more , Stabb'd with Steeletto's , then kickt out of door . ( Poor wretch ! how was he chou'sd with name and stile ? ) But Longarenus lay with her the while . Now if that Natural genius of his Should say to him , when he had seen all this , Sir , what d' you mean ? Do I require , when e're I am inrag'd , the Daughter of a Peer Or any marri'd woman ? what could he Then answer to 't ? that womans meat for me , Who is descended of a noble stem . But Nature teaches better things then them , And quite repugnant too ; Great Nature , which In her own help is plentifully rich , If we would rightly use them , and descry What we should choose , from what we ought to fly , Does it no difference appear to thee By lust to perish , or necessity ? Then that thou may'st not that vain work attempt , Of which thou surely wilt too late repent , Pursue not Matrons ; for the cost and pain Will far surmount the pleasure thou canst gain . Nor is their Flesh more tender , nor are they Mo●e clean-limb'd , whose attire is rich and gay , And do with jewels deck their necks and ears , ( Such as th' effeminate Corinthus wears ; ) Nay oftentimes that Lass , who 's plain and free , Wears better Limbs then your great Madams be ▪ She does her mercenary Flesh expose , Undeckt by art , and openly she shows The ware she means to utter , nor will she , If any part about her hansome be , Proudly show that alone , nor strive to hide Those parts , which Nature has not beautify'd . So Princes , when they Horses go to buy , Into the cover'd parts most strictly pry , Least the same Horse , that 's lovely to behold With a small head , and a crest high and bold , And a round buttock , the eager Buyer cheat , Because he 's lame , or foundred in his feet . This they do well in ; for we should not pry On their perfections with a Lynxes Eye , And be as blind as Hypsea was , when we Their greater imperfections ought to see . Oh comely legs and armes ! ( sayes one ) and yet She is pin-buttock'd , and has long-splay Feet , Short-wasted , but a nose of such a size , That all the Members shortness it supplies . Thou canst no part of a grave Matron see , Except her face , the rest all cover'd be , Unless it be of Catia , who , although She be a matron , does unvailed goe . If thou attempt forbidden wives to win To thy desires , they are incompass'd in With guards and walls ? 't will make thee mad to see How many things there are to hinder thee . There 's Guardian , Coach-man , Tire man , Flatterer , A gown to th' heels , a vail that covers her ; And many more 〈◊〉 envious things there be , Make thee the 〈◊〉 , as 〈◊〉 thou canst not see . A Lass ne're hinders thee , she will appear In dress transparent , as she naked were ; That thou maist by thine Eye discern , that she Is straight in th' waste , and that her anck●● be Not great , and gou●y ; and her feet are nea● . Does any man desire to have a chea● Impos'd upon him ? and be made pay down The price ere the commodity be shown ? But thou art like the Hunts-man , who does go After the Hare up to the knees in Snow , Wh●ch being caught , makes him a chearful Feast , Yet hee 'l not touch a Hare brought ready drest . Thou scorn'st that Lass thou may'st with ease enjoy , And court those that are difficult and coy . But doest thou think thy passions to appease With such vain and impert'nent flames as these ? Has not wise Nature bounded thy desire ? Does it not more avail thee to enquire , What she cann't be without , and what she may , And pare what ere 's superfluous away ? When thou art thirsty , m●st thou onely drink Out of a Golden goblet ? or doest think All meat is loathsome , when thou' rt hungry grown , But Turlet , or the Phe●s●nt poult alone ? So when thy 〈◊〉 flames grow strong and high , Wilt thou not take 〈◊〉 next thou canst come by ? Be 't Kitchin wench , or Scullion boy ; or else , Wouldst have that 〈◊〉 which so extreamly swells ? I 'm of another humour , for to me That girl is best , that 's easiest ; and she That I can soonest come at ; and when I Ask her the Question , sa●es Yes by and by , As soo●'s my Servant is gon forth , or sayes She 'l gratifie me , if the price I raise . Those that are hard , and te●ious to be won , Are for the feeble Eunuchs taste alone : Give me a coming Lady , that ne're stands Consid'ring long , nor great rewards demands ; But when I call her quickly comes to me , Let her not ugly , nor yet cro●ked be , But of good colour , and clean-limb'd withal , Of a good size , not by Chipe●ns made tall ; Nor let her by her painting make more fair Her face and skin , then they by Nature are . When such a Creature in mine Armes does lie , She is m● Love , my Queen , my Deitie ; I call her by all names , nor do I ●oubt When we our Deeds of Pleasure are about , The barking Dogs , the breaking ope of doors , And all the Home disturb'd with great uproars , Her jealous husband will return to see , How he is cuckolded by her and me ; While the poor woman starts from off her Bed , Pale and affrighted , 'cause discovered , And being conscious cries , Oh I 'm undone ! I shall be fetter'd , and my Por●on's gone . And I without my Breeches then m●st pack , Bare-foot and coat-less , all to save my back From the dire Lash , or to preserve my Purse , Or else my R●putation , which is worse . For to be taken is a Crime , 't is true , And 't is a pitiful misfortune too ; I dare be judg'd by Fabius , who does know All this is true , for he has been serve ●so . SATYRE III. By A. B. That men are quick-sighted to pry into other mens infirmities , and connive at their own . ALl Songsters have this humour , that among Their friends they can't abide to sing a Song If they 're intreated ; but they 'l ne're give ore If not desired . This was heretofore Tige●ius vice ; Caesar who could command , If by the friendship of his Father , and His own , he did intreat but for one Ayre , This Songster would not sing ; yet if he were Once in the humour , all the Supper long He would to Bacchus sing , Song after Song ; His voice to th' highest treble rais'd , and then Descending down to th'lowest base again . A most unsteady fellow , somet●mes he Woul● run , as if pursu'd by 's enemy ; Sometimes hee 'ld slowly walk , as if he were T●e Sacred host about the street to bear . Sometimes attended with two hundred men Heel'd walk , at other times with onely ten . Now Kings and Princes , and all great things be The subjects of his talk : Anon ( sayes he ) Give me a three-leg'd board , a shell to hold A l●ttle ●alt , and to keep off the cold A gown , though ne're so course ; if you present This poor abstemious person , who 's content Now with so little , with a thousand pound , In five dayes there will not a Great be found In 's pocket : He the day in sle●p doth pass , And 〈…〉 all night long ; there never was A thing so much unlike so him as he Was to himself : But some may say to me , Pray what are you ? Have you no crime at all ? Yes , Other vices , not perhaps so small . When Menius absent , Novius did upbraid , You Sir , d' you hear ? D' you know your self ? ( one said ) Or do you think to cheat us , as if we Did not know what you are ? Menius , said he , Could wink at , and forget his own faults ; this Is both a vile and silly love , and'tis Fit to be taken notice of , when with blear eyes We over-look our own infirmities . Why should we into our Friends errors pry As narrowly as with an Eagles eye , Or Basi●cks piercing look ? 't will come about , As we do theirs , they 'l find our Vices out . An angry man is no way fit to bear The jeers , which from the Wits he 's forc'd to hear : They 'l jeer him if ill shav'd , or if his Gown In a neglected posture hangeth down : Or if his Shooes are not well t●'d , though he May be as honest as their Witships be . Though he 's a Friend , though a great Wit does lie Within that Body , drest so clownishly . Examine well thy self , see if there be The seeds of any Vices sow● in thee ; By Nature or ill custome we discern , Neglected Fields still over grown with Fearn , Let 's raise our selves up to this frame of mind , To be t' our Friends infirmities as ●lind As Lovers to their Mistresses can be , Who either don 't their imperfections see , Or if they do , they 're pleasing to them , th●s Balbinus lik'd even Agnas Polypus . I wish we all would erre in friendship so , And vertue on that error would bestow A glorious name ; for as the Father mild , If he espies a frailtie in his child , He does not scorn , nor loath it , nor should we Th● errors of our friends , if any be . If a Son squinting goggle-eyes should have , H●s Father calls him , Pretty winking Knave ; And he whose Child in stature●s no more Then Sysiphus th' Abortives heretofore , Calls him his Chick●n ; if he bend at knee , He calls him Varus ; if he hurl-foot be , His Father l●sping calls him Scaurus : Thus When a Friend lives something penurious , Le●'s call 't good Husbandry , and when we find One that to jeer or vapour is inclin'd , Imagine his design is but to be Very facetious in company : If he be rough-hew'd , and will talk and rant , Count him a down-right man and valiant , And when we meet with any person that Is hot and surly , call him passionate . This thing joynes friends together , and when joyn'd , It still preserves them in a friendly mind . But we the very vertues of a Friend Do into Vices basely wrest , and bend O●r mind those vessels to pollute , which are Clear of themselves ; if any person dare L●ve vertuo●sly among us ; base and low We count him then , and if a man be slow Of apprehen●on , we are apt to call and thick-skul'd fellow ; he that all 〈…〉 , whose Bosome does not lie Expos'd to any kind of injury , Though he lives in a treacherous Age , wherein Malice and Slander , and all kind of sin Do grow and flourish , ought of right to be Esteem'd a prudent wary man , but we Call him a subtle Iugler : If we spy A● open-hearted person ( such as I Oft shew'd my self to you Maec●nas ) which W●th his perpetual and impertinent Speech Disturbs men far more serious , when they Do either read or study hard , we say This fellow has not common sence , Alas ! How inconsiderately do we pass Laws on our selves , unequal and severe , Since no man without Vices ever were , Or born , or bred , and that man is the best , Who 's troubled with the fewest and the least . Areal Friend will with my faults compare My vertues ; and if all my vertues are More then my Vices , he that loves me would Incline toth'most , as'tis fit he should : So if to be belov'd he has a mind , He may by this means the same measure find : He that desires his Wenns should not offend His friend , must wink at the Pimples of his friend ▪ He that would have his faults forgiven must Give pardon , if he take it , 't is but just . Now since the vice of anger , and the rest Which do our foolish Nature thus infest , Cannot be throughly rooted out , why may Not equal judgement and right reason sway ? And why should not all punishments be fitted Proportionably to the Crimes committed ? When a man bids his Servant lift a Dish Off from the Table , and he eat the Fish That 's left , or lick the sauce up , if that he Should suffer death , should not his Master be Esteem'd more mad then frantick Labeo By all those men , who are themselves not so ? How would the Masters crime the mans transcend In greatness ; nay in madness ? If a Friend Commit a fault , at which thou ought'st to wink , Or else all men will thee ill-natur'd think , If thou should'st scorn and hate him for 't , and shun H●s company , as the poor Debtors run From that damn'd Usurer Druso , who when ere The doleful Day of Payment does appear To his poor Debtors , if they do not pay Both principal and interest , how they Come by 't he cares not , he condemns them then To stand with naked throats , like Captive men , Not to be kill'd , but ( what 's far worse then it ) To hear those wretched Playes which he had writ . Suppose my fudled Friend when he did sup , Bepist the room or break my Mistress cup : Or if he being hungry took away That Chicken which i' th' Dish before me lay , Must I fall out with him ? What then if he Should commit theft ? Or break his trust with me ? Or should deny his promise ? those by whom All sins are equal held , when once they come T' inquire into the truth they 're at a stand ; For common reason , general custome , and Profit it self , which is the Mother now Of what is right and just , all disallow This fond opinion : When in former time Man-kind , which of all creatures is the prime , Crept out of 's Mother Earth , they were a kind Of dumb and nasty Cattle , which inclin'd To brawl for Mast , and Dens to lodge in to , With nails and fists , and next with clubs , and so In length of time , they fought with spears and swords , Which need had taught them how to make , till words And names by them invented were , whereby They did their sence and voices signifie Unto each other , then they did begin To build them Forts to live with safety in . Then they enacted Lawes , that none might dare Play either Robber or Adulterer : For before Helens dayes women have been The cause of cruel wars . When men rush'd in On any women which they next came to , At the first sight , as wild Beasts use to do ; Till like a Bull o' th' herd , a stronger come , Kill the first Occupant , and takes his room : But unremembred di'd those nameless men , Wanting th' Historians and Poets Pen. We if we do consider former times , Must grant that Laws were made for fear of crimes As Nature can't discern ; what 's right , what 's wrong , Nor separate good from ill , nor from among Those things we ought to shun , pick out what we Ought to desire , nor can't by reason be Made out , that he who on the Hearbs within His Neighbours Garden treads , do's as much sin As he that robs a Church , and steals away What to the Gods there consecrated lay . Let 's have a Rule , by which our pains may be Proportion'd to our crimes , and not that he Who has deserv'd a little Rod alone , Should with a horrid whip be 〈◊〉 to th' Bone. That thou 'lt with ferule strike I 'le ne'r suppose , Him that deserves to suffer greater blows ; While thou hold'st thefts and robberies to be Offences onely of the like degree , And threatnest if thou reign once to chastise Our petty faults and foul enormities With equal punishments : if it be so , That he who is a wise man's wealthy too , A good Mechanick skill'd in every thing , The onely gallant , and indeed a King. What need'st thou wish to be a King , since thou Art so already ? Thou wilt ask me now If I don't know what old Chrysipus said , Tho●gh a wise man perhaps has never made His Shooes and Boots , yet still a wise man is A Shoo-maker ; to what end is all this ? Just so Hermogenes , thoughs he 's dumb , can Sing well , and is a good Musitian . And in this sense , Alfenus when he threw Away his tools , and shut up shop , and grew A cunning Lawyer , who had been before A Cobler , was still Cobler , and no more : So the wise man's alone in every thing , The skilfull'st Artist , and so he 's a King. The Roguing Boyes ( thou talk'st so like a Sot ) Will pull thee by thy Beard , if thou do'st not That Scepter in thy hand thy cudgel sway , And in Majestick-wise drive them away . The cheated crowd that stand about thee , all Prepare to kick thee , thou maist bark and brawl Till thou hast burst thy Royal self , Most high And mighty King , in brief thou Royally Giv'st a whole f●r●hing , for thy Bath at once , And hast no guard to attend thee but that dunce Chrispinus ; But my pleasant fr●ends , if I , Through folly should transgress , will pass it by And when they do bewray their frailties , then I in requital pardon them agen ; And thus I live , though but a private man , More happy then thy fained Kingship can . SATYRE IV. By A. B. A Discourse concerning POETRY . THe old Greek Poets , Aristophanes , Cratinus , Eupolis , and such as these Who did write Comedies , wher e're they had One fit to be describ'd , as very bad , Such as a Thief , or an Adulterer , Or Murtherer , or such like men which were Notorious in their lives , these all should be With a brave bo●dness , and great liberty , Exprest to th' life , and whatsoever is Writ by Lucillius does proceed from this , Those Poets he did imitate , their feet And numbers onely he did change , and yet His wit was excellent , his judgement clear , Onely the Verses which came from him , were Harsh and unpolisht ; for this was his crime , Two hundred Verses in one hours time He ordinarily poured out with ease , As if he did such weighty businesses ; Yet though his Verses like a Deluge flow'd , Th 'had something still above the common road : He lov'd to scrible , but could not endure The pains of writing Verses good and pure ; I ne're regard how much an Author writes , 'T is not the Volumn , but the sence delights . I 'le tell you ; Once Crispinus challeng'd me , Pointing with 's Finger at me , Come ( sayes he ) Take Paper , Pen , and Ink , fix place , and time , Let 's both be watcht , try which can swiftest rhime ; I thank my Stars , Nature did me compose So bashful , and so pusillanimous , That I speak little , and but seldome too , But his laborious lungs do alwayes go Like a Smiths Bellows , puffing breath so fast , That he his Iron audients tires at last . What luck that Scribling Rhimer Fannius met ? That our grave Senate undesir'd have set His silly Book and ugly statue too In Caesars Library ? Whilest I that do Both blush and tremble when I e'er appear In publick , no rehearsing wit does care To read my Lines to th' undiscern●ng crue ; But here 's the reason for 't , there are but few That love a Satyr well ; most are afraid Their Crimes may be like others , open laid . Pick any person out of all Mankind , He is to pride or avarice inclin'd ; This with the lust for 's Neighbours wife runs mad , That 's for th' unnatural use of some fair Lad : This loves to gaze on 's money still , and that Is ravisht with the splendour of his Plate ; This to get wealth by merchandizing goes , Where the Sun sets , from the place where it rose , Runs through all dangers head-long , and is tost From place to place as Whirlwinds blow the dust , Fearing least he should loose his stock , or not Increase that vast Estate which he had got . All these hate Verses , and Verse-makers fly That Beast the Poet comes ' ware-horns they cry : To make the People laugh , these Fellows use Not to regard what friends they do ab●se , And whatsoe're they write they forthwith to The Politicians of the Conduit shew , Or at the Bake-house , that Old Women and The Rouging Boyes their jests may understand . Much good may 't do them , I on t'other side With the name Poet wo'nt be dignifi'd Out of their number , whom the world does own For Poets , I 'm excluded , being none : For to compose a Verse , or write as we Do naturally speak's not Poetry . That noble Title Poet those doth fit , Who have good Stile , high Fancy , and quick wit ; And therefore some have askt whither , what I Have written be Poem or Comedy , Because no salt , no flame , nor spirit be , Or in the words or sence which comes from me ; Which would be very Prose , but onely I My words to feet and numbers use to tie : But in a Comedy the Poet brings A Father raging in 'cause his Son clings T' a common prostitute , and does refuse That wealthy match which the old man did chuse , And being drunk walks in the open day With a Torch flaming in a scandalous way . Pomponius Father , if alive , would thus Rebuke his Son for being leacherous ; 'T is not enough to make Verse smoothly run With fine cull'd words , but if they are undone , And made plain Prose , would as unpleasant be As the sowre Father in the Comedy . If from the Verses which I use to make , And those which once Lucillus writ , you take The feet and measure , and do discompose The order of those words , and make them Prose ; Placing those words before which stand behind , And so invert their order , you will find The quarters of a Poet still appear In every sentence , scatter'd every where , Not like this Verse ; When as the cruel jars Of wars had broke our iron posts and bars . So much for that ; We 'l take a time to know , Whither this Poetry be right or no : Now I would onely ask whither to thee A Satyr can justly offensive be . The bawling Lawyers and the formal Iudge , When they in Gowns and with their Law-tools trudge , Make Malefactors tremble , while that he That 's innocent contemns their Pogeantry . Though thou' rt a malefactor , yer since I Am no Informer , why do'st from me fly ? No Books of mine do prostituted lie On publick Stalls to tempt th' enquiring Eye Of Passengers , soyl'd by the greasie Thumbs Of every prying nasty Cl●wn that comes . I seldome do rehearse , and when I do , 'T is to my Friends , and with relunctance too : Not before every one , nor every where ; We have too many that Rehearsers are , In publick Baths , and open Markets too , In the Seild chambers , where their voices do Double by repercussion , they rehear'e In sipid notions tortur'd into Verse . This pleases empty Fops , who never mind True wit and sense , so rhime and feet they find ▪ Thou sayest I love to jeer and study it , To gratifie my own ill-natur'd wit ; Where didst thou pick up this Report ? or who Of my acquaintance e're reputes me so ? That person who back-bites his absent friend , Or when another does , will not defend His reputation ; he that aims to be The jester in all foolish company , Ambitious of the Title of a Wit , Ablab of 's tongue , who what e're you commit Unto his trust , discovers and betrayes , And impudently lies in what he sayes : This is a dirty fellow , such a one Every true Roman is concern'd to shun , I 've seen a dozen men together feast , And one has rudely jeer'd at all the rest , Except his Friend , which entertain'd them all ; But being drunk at last on him did fall , When Truth 's Mother ) had unlockt his Breast , Reveal'd those thoughts that there did smother'd rest . Thou who abhorr'st base Fellows , wilt suppose This beast free , civil , and ingenious . Whilest if I do discover and deride Some powdred Coxcombs vanity and pride : Or else some nasty Sloven , thou dost fall On me , as envious or Satyrical . If in thy presence any person does Report Petillus Sacriligious , Thou ( as thy custome is ) wile him defend , And say Petillus was thy antient Friend ; From Children you were conversant , and he With Kindnesses was still oblieging thee , The thought of him does much thy Spirit chear , That he is well , and thou enjoy'st him here : But yet thou canst not but admire how he Himself could from that Iudgement so well free . Such Friends are like the Scattle-fish , whose skin Is white without , but all black juice within ; This is the rust of Friendship , and this vice ( If any promise in my power lies ) I freely promise thou shalt never find In all my writings , no nor in my mind . If I speak what is jocular and free , You by the Law are bound to pardon me . My honour'd Father , now deceas'd , did use Into my mind these Precepts to infuse ; Observe ( quoth he ) their end who vice pursue , And thou by that all Vi●es wilt eschew : When he did press me to good Husbandrie , And thrifty frugal courses , and to be Content with that Estate which he had got , And did intend to leave me ; dost thou not ( Said he ) observe the wealthy Albius Son Into what want he is by wildness run ? See what a shabby Fellow 's Barrus grown , Barrus the Ranting'st Gallant of the Town ; A good instruction for young Heirs , that they Should not their Patrimony fool away ! And when from love of VVhores he would deter me , He to Sectanus sad Fate would refer me , That after marri'd Wives I should not stray , But use my Pleasures in a Lawful way . ( Quoth he ) upon thy name 't wil be a Brand If like Trebonius thou should'st be trappand , Philosophy will with much reason shew What thou should'st shun , and what thou should'st pursue ▪ If thou canst well observe those prudent wayes , In which our Fathers walkt in former dayes , And keep thy life and reputation free From vice or scandal whilest thou' rt under me , I 'm pleas'd : But when thy mind and body too By age to full maturity shall grow , I 'le turn thee loose into the World. Thus he Did in my Nonage wisely nurture me : When he propos'd a duty to be done , He 'ld say , Thou hast a fair example ( Son ) For doing this , thou hast before thine eyes Those which to honour and great power did rise , And if he 'ld have me any vice to flie , ( Sayes he ) A man may see with half an eye This act which now thou art about to do Is against honesty and profit too . Since this mans name , and that 's who did this thing , With general scandal through the Nation ring . And as one Gluttons death doth much affright Another , and suspends his appetite For fear of death , so others infamy Makes tender Spirits from those vices fly . Thus I liv'd unconcern'd in all those Crimes Which ruine young-men in these impious times , Though I perhaps do'nt unpolluted live , But have small faults , which men may well forgive , And which my second thoughts and a true Friend , And wiser age may teach me to amend ; For I 'm not wanting to my self when I Do walk alone , or in my Bed do lie . Then I think with my selt , this way is best And if I follow'r , I am truly blest , And to my Friends am grateful ; but when I Observe a person doing fool●shly , Should I be such an Ass to make the same Ill course my pattern , which has been his shame ? These are my private thoughts , and when I light On a spare minute I do Verses write , And this is one of those small sins which I Am guilty of , which if thou should'st deny To pardon , all of my Fraternitie Would come to help me ; for we Poets be A mighty number , and as once the Iews , Romans to their Religion did seduce , So we 'l dub thee a Brother of the Muse. SATYRE V. By A. B. A Iourney from Rome to Brandusium FRom spatious Rome to Aris once went I , With Heliodorus in my company , The best for Rhetorick that the Grecians had ; Our Inn was small , our entertainment bad . From whence to Apii forum we did ride , Where Sailors and lewd Victuallers most reside . We made it two dayes work , which might be done By those that had a mind in less then one . The Appian Road we did not tedious think , We travell'd slowly , and did often drink : Here , 'cause the water was unwholsome , I Refus'd to eat a Supper , but sate by While my Friends did ; I long'd to be in Bed , ●or night on th' earth her sable wings had spread , And stuck the Heaven with stars , but such a noise Rose from the Sailors railing at their Boyes , And their Boyes back again at them ! So ho ! The Boat , the Boat ! Plague on you , where d' you go ? ( Sayes one ) you Rogue , you over-load the Boat , You lye ( sayes t'other with an open throat ) Hold , hold , now 't is enough : And thus while they Harnest their Mules , and quarrel for their Pay , They spent a whole houers time ; the stinging fleas And croaking Frogs deni'd me sleep and ease . And now the Sailor being got quite drunk , With nastie Wine begins to sing of 's Punck . The Mule-man does the like of his : both try Which should roar loudest for the Victory ; At length the Mule-man being weary grown , Falls fast asleep ; while to a neighbouring stone The lazie Mariner did tie the Barge With the Mules traces which was gon at large To graze ; and likewise falls asleep till day , Then we perceiv'd the Barge was at a stay , There being no Mule to draw her ; thereupon Out leaps a surly Fellow , and layes on The Mule-man and the Salior head and side With a tough Cudgel , which was well appli'd : Then in four hours we ashore were set , We washt our hands and faces , and did eat : Then after Dinner three full miles walkt we , And came to Anxur , where the houses be Cover'd with Polisht Stone , my honour'd Friend Maecenas and Cocceius did intend To take this Maritine City in the road , Both being sent Ambassadors abroad 'Bout State Affairs , and using to compose All differences which 'twixt Friends arose . Here I anointed these sore Eyes of mine With the most true Collyrium ex'lent Wine . Then straight Maeoenas and three more I see , Ingenious persons all , and forthwith we With scorn pass by that petty Village , where That Scrivener Luscus proudly rul'd as Mayor . With Mace and Chain , and Fur and Purple-gown , Strutting and domineering o're the Town , And came to Formiae soundly tir'd at last , Where our Friends gave good lodging and repast : The next day was a blessed day , for we Came to a Town where wine was good and free : There Virgil , Varius , and Plotinus met , Men of such Souls the World can't equal yet , Nor are there any in the World to me So much obliging as those persons be . But oh ! what love , and what embracing ' t was ? And what rejoycing old between us pass ? No man in 's Wits can any thing commend Before a real and ingenuous Friend . Next to a small Maritine village , near Campania's Bridge we came , the Townsmen there With Wood and Salt Maecenas did present As fees , 'cause in an Embassy he went. From thence to Capua betimes we came , Virgil and I did sleep , Maecenas game ; That ●oilsome play at Ball no way complies With Virgils stomack , nor with my blear eyes . Hence we came to ( occeius house , which is Seated beyond the Claudian Hosteries , A stately house , where plentie did abound , And there we splendid entertainment found . And now ( my Muse ) assist me while I tell That memorable squable which befel Between Sarmentus that Buffoon , and one Messius , whose Face with warts was over-grown ; And from what Noble antient Familie These Combatants deriv'd their pedigree ; The Ossian Nation unto Messius gave His being , but Sarmentus was a Slave Of this condition and original . These two Tongue-combatants began their braul ; Thou Horse-fac'd Raskal ( sayes Sarmentus first ) At which we fell a laughing , like to burst . Messius replies , Well be i● so ; what then ? ( And Ox-like tost his head at him agen . ) Oh? ( sayes Sarmentus ) what a dangerous Cow , Had not thy horns been qui●e saw'd off , wert thou , Who art so curst without them ? thy old face , ( If possible ) is uglier then it was ▪ — Since thy great men on one side , now we find Cut out , it leaves an ugly ●rand behind That botchy face of thine 〈◊〉 ●s if thou Hadst a Campama● Cl●p upon thee now . Thus he abus'd Messius ace , and bid Him come and dance as Polyphemus did . No vizard , nor yet buskins need'st thou wear , Thy face and limbs can't seem worse then they are . Messius retorts as much ; Thou Dog , ( sayes he ) When will thy slaveship end ? for though thou be Now made a Scribe , thy Mrs. right thereby Is not extinguisht ; tell me , Sirrah , why Didst thou so often run away from her ? Is not a pound of bread sufficient fare For such a starveling slave as thou to eat ? And with such pastime we got down our meat . At Beneventum our officious Host Roasting lean Birds , was like himself to roast . The pile of fire fell down , and scatter'd flame Unto the roof of the old Kitchin came , The hungry Guests , and Servants worse then those , Being afraid their supper they should lose , Began to scramble , and did more conspire To snatch the victuals , then to quench the fire . And now th' Apulean Mountains did appear , Which by 〈◊〉 so scorched are , These we had ne'er chaw'd ore , but that there lay Trivi●us to refresh us by the way ; But such a cursed smo●k did there arise From the green Bo●ghs they burnt , it scorcht our ey● ▪ Here I the 〈◊〉 of the company Till Mid-night aid in expectation lie Of a false Wench , who promis'd to come to me , But sleep did come , and that more good did do me : But what I dreamt ▪ and what on me befel , My body and my sheets can onely tell . Thence four and twentie miles we were convey'd By Coach , then in a little town we staid , Whose name won't stand in verse , but yet there are Plain signs to know it by , they water there ( The meanest of all things ) sell , while trav'lers may With fine bread gratis load themselves away . Bread at C●nusiums gritty , water there Is as at Equotutium , very rare . Brave Diomedes of so high renown , 'T was he , that built in former time , this town . Here Varius parted from 's , and weeping went , While ●e his absence did as much lament . To Rubi thence , we being tir'd , did get , The journey long , and worse because 't was wet . Next day to Fishy Barus we repair , The way was worse , but yet the Weather fair ; From thence to Gratia , which did seem to be Founded in spight of th' Water Nymphs , for we Found wholesome Water greatly wanting there , But we had ex'lent sport ; for they did dare Perswade me , that their Incense which they lay Upon their Altars , would consume away Without a fire , I 'le ne're think 't is true , This story fits th' uncircumcised Iew ; For I well know the Gods live free from cares , And ne're concern themselves in mans affairs , And when as Nature any thing does do , Which Mortal men are most accustom'd to , I don't believe that 't is the careful Gods Send down this wonder from their high abodes ; Thence to Brandusium we our travels bend , And here my paper and our journey end . SATYRE VI. By Sir R. F. To MAECENAS . He reprehends the vain judgement of the people of Rome concerning Nobility , measuring the same by antiquity of Pedigree , not by vertue ; nor willingly admitting to Magistracy any but such as were adorned with the former ▪ That there was no reason to envy him for the friendship of Maecenas , as for a Tribuneship ; since that was not given by Fortune , but acquired by the recommendations of vertue . Lastly , shews his condition in a private life to be much better , then ( if he were a Magistrate ) it could be . NOt that the Tus●ans ( who from Lydia came ) Have nothing nobler then Maecenas name ; Nor that thy Mothers , and Sires Grand-sire were Gen'rals of old , makes thee as most men , sneer Thy nose up at poor folks , and such as me , Born of a Father , from a Slave made free . When thou affirm'st , It skils not of what kind Any is come ; if of a noble mind ; Thou deem'st ( and right ) that before Tullus reign , ( Who was a King , yet not a Gentleman ) Many a man of no degree , no name , By great atchievements to great honours came . Levinus contrary ( Valerio's Son , By whom proud Tarquin was expell'd the Throne ) Him worthless , Ev'n the people ( whom you know ) They scorn'd ; Those fools that honours oft bestow On undeservers , doating on gay men , Dazled with shields and coronets . What then Shall we do , lifted far above their Sphere ? The People to Levinus did prefer A new man Decius ; yet now , should I Stand for a place , hoarse Appius would cry , Withdraw ! 'cause I 'm no Gentleman : and shall , When Horace meddles farther then his Naul . But Honour takes into her golden Coach Noble and base . Tullus , what hast to touch The Purple Robe ( which Caesar forc't thee quit ) And be a Tribune ? Envy thou didst get Thereby , by whom i' th dark thou'dst neer been spide . For when the people see a strange face ride Up to the ears in Ermins , and a list ( Or more ) of Gold ; strait they demand , Who is 't ? What was his Father ? Just as when some youth , Sick of the Fashions ( to be thought , forsooth , Handsome ) inflames the fairer Sex , to call His face in question , hair , teeth , foot , and small . So when a man upon the Stage shall come , And say , Give me the Reins that govern Rome , I 'le manage Italy , the State shall be My care , I , and the Church likewise : Ods me ! It forces every Mortal to enquire And know who was his Mother , who his Sire ? Shall then the Off-spring of a Minstrel dare D●splace this General , condemn that Peer ? Novius was one hole lower . Being the same My Father was , you 'd think from Brute he came . But if two hundred Draies obstruct a street , Or with their Trumpeters , three Funerals meet ; Louder then all he chafes with brazen lungs , And this is something to awe peoples tongues . But to my self , the son of the Freed man , O ( Envy cries ) The son of the Freed man ! Maecenas , now , Because thy Guest : before , Because a Tribune's charge I bore . These two are not alike : I may pretend , Though not to office , yet to be thy friend , Thou being chiefly in this case so choice , Not guided by Ambition , popular voice , Or by a chance : Virgil his word did pass For me , then Varus told thee what I was . When first presented , little said I to thee , ( For Modesty's an infant ) did not shew thee A long-taild Pedigree : I did not say , I bred Race-horses in Appulia : Told what I was . As little thou replied'st , ( Thy mode ) I go : at nine moneths end , thou bid'st Me , of thy Friends , be one . Of this I boast , That I pleas'd thee ( who to distinguish know'st ) Not Noble , but of fair and Chrystal thoughts . Yet , if except some few ( not hainous ) faults , My Nature's straight ( as you may reprehend , In a fair face , some moles . ) If ( to commend My self ) I am not given to avarice ; Not nastie , not debaucht , not sold to vice , Lov'd by my Friends , obedient to the Laws , Of all these things my Father was the cause . Who though but tenant to one small lean Farm , In Flavio's School would never let me learn. When great Centurions sent their great Boyes thither , Their left armes crampt with stones , hung in a leather Bag , with a counting-board ; but boldly parts With me ( a child ) to Rome : t'imbibe those arts A Knight , or Senator , might teach his Boy ; That who had seen my cloaths and my convoy Of Servants , cleaving through a press , would swear Some wealthy Grandsire did my charges bear . Himself ( the carefull'st Tutor ) had his eye Over them all . In short my Modestie , ( Vertues first bloom ) so watring from this Well , He both preserv'd my whiteness and my smell : Nor fear'd , lest any should in time to come , Blame him he had not bred me still at home To his own Trade : or I my self complain ; ( The more his praise my debt , ) if I have brain , Of such a Father now shall I repent , Like some that quarrel with their own descent , Because their blood from Nobles did not flow , Reason as well as Nature answers , No : For if I should unweave the Loom of Fate , And chuse my self new parents , for my State , In any Tribe : Contented with mine own , I would not change to be a Consuls Son. Mad , in the Vulgars judgement : But in thine Sober , perchance : because I did decline An irksome load I am not us'd to bear . For I must seek more wealth straight , if that were ; And , to beg Voices , many a visit make , Must at my heels a brace of Servants take ; For fear my honour should be seen alone , To go into the Countrey , or the Town . There must be Horses store , and Grooms thereto , A Litter's to be hir'd too : Whereas now 'T is lawful for me on a Bob-tail Mule To travel to Tarontum , if I wull ; My cloak-bag galling her behind , and I Digging her shoulders . Not , with Obliquie , Like Tullus , when in Tiber-Road he 's seen Attended with five Boyes , carrying a skin Of Wine , and a Close-stool : Brave Senator , More decently then thou , and thousands more , I could do that . Where e'er I list I go , Alone , the price of Broath and Barley know ; Croud in at every Sight , walk late in Rome : Visit the Temple with a prayer : then home To my Leek-pottage , and Chich-pease , Three boyes Serve in my Supper ; whom to counterpoise One bowl , two beakers on a broad white slate , A pitcher with two ears ( * Campanian Plate ) Then do I go to sleep : securely do 't , Being next morning to attend no suit In the great Hall ( where Marsya doth look , As if loud Nemio's face he could not brook ) I lie till Four. Then walk , or read a while ; Or write to please my self ; noint me with Oil : ( Not such as Natta paws himself withal , Robbing the Lamps . ) When neer his Vertical The hotter Sun invites us to a Bath For our tir'd Limbs , I fly the Dog-stars wrath , Having din'd onely so much as may stay My appetite : Loiter at home all da● . These are my solaces : this is the life Of men that shun ambition , run from strife . Lighter then if I soar'd on Glories wing , The Nephew , Son , and Grand-son to a King. SATYRE VII . By A. B. A Braul between two Railing Buffoons . THe venomous railing of that black mouth'd thing Who lately was prescrib'd Rupillius King , Against that mungrel Persian , and how he Reveng'd himself on King again ; these be Things ( I suppose ) notoriously known , The talk of every Barbers shop in town . This Persian being rich , his wealth did draw Much business , and that business suits in Law ; And with Rupillius King , among the rest , He had a very troublesome contest ; He was a surly fellow , proud , and bold , And able King himself with ease t'out-scold , Of such a bitter and invective speech , That he even Billingsgate to rail could teach . Now as to King , since nothing could compose The differences which between them rose , These two Tongue-combatants began their fray , When Brutus govern'd wealthy Asia ; To th' Hall they come contending eagerly , Both matcht as equally as Fencers be ; They made an exc'lent Scaene : First in the Court The Persian pleads his cause , and made good sport , Our General Brutus to the skies he rais'd , And his victorious Army highly prais'd ; Call'd him the Sun of Asia , and all His Captains he propitious Stars did call , Except that Buffoon King ( sayes he ) who 's far More mischievous t'you all , than the Dog-star Is to the Husband-man : thus on he ran , And by his railing , bore that baffl●d man Quite down before him ; like a Winter flood , Which drives down every thing that e're withstood Its rapid motion , and by violence Roots up the trees , and so the Axe presents . Thus when two Warriers engage in fight , And both of equal courage , skil , and might , Honour 's their aim , both scorn to yield or r●n , The more their valour , the more mischiefs done . So valiant Hector when he did engage 'Gainst stout Achilles , such a deadly rage Did animate them both , that nothing could Satiate their fury but each others blood , And death of one , meerly 'cause both were stout ; Conquer or die both could , but ne're give out . But when two Cowards quarrel , or if one That courage has , contends with one of none ; ( As Diomedes once with Glauceus did ) The Coward yields or runs for 't , and instead Of blows , gives bribes , and presents to his Foe , Onely to save his life , and let him go . King rallies up his thoughts , and then retorts Invectives false , and many of all sorts : Just like a surlie Carman , whose rude tongue Out-rails all Passengers , be 't right or wrong ; He had not wit to jeer , but rudely bauls , And the smart Persian Rogue and Cuckold calls . The angry Persian being so much stung By the reproaches of the Italians tougue , Cries out , Oh Brutus ! by the Gods I pray , Thou whose profession's to take Kings , away , Murther this one King for me , thou 'lt gain more By this , then all the Kings th' hast kill'd before . SATYRE VIII . By A. B. A Discovery of Witchcraft . OF an Old Fig-tree once the trunk was I , And as useless piece of wood laid by , 〈…〉 Carpenter who found Me lying so neglected on the ground , Took me in hand to form me with his tool , But whether he should make of me a stool , Or a Priapus , was a thing that ●id Long time perplex this politick work-mans head ; Till after long deliberation , he For weighty reasons made a God of me . Hence does my Deity proceed , and I Here stand the thieves and birds to terrifie ; The thieves I fright away with my right hand , And my long pole which does erected stand ; My Crown of Reeds does drive the birds away , That they dare not in our new Gardens prey . The ground where I now stand was heretofore A common Burying-place for all the poor , Whose carcases in mean small graves were laid , And this the publick Sepulcher was made For th' meanest sort of people , those men which Were much the poorer 'cause they had been rich . The bodies of such spend-thrifts here were casts As fool'd their means away , and lack'd at last . A thousand foot in length , three hundred wide , Which from the rest a Land-mark did divide , Whose plain inscription did describe to th' Heirs , Which ground was Sacred , & which ground was theirs . Now men i' th' healthy Church-yard live , and where Dead bodies stunk , the living take fresh a●r , And on that green hill now we walk , which once Was all deform'd and cover'd ore with bones . But yet the thieves and birds which hither come , And haunt this place , are not so troublesome To me , as those who charmes and poysons use , With which they do poor Mortal minds abuse , These I can neither hinder nor destroy , But in the silent nights , by Moon-shine they Into these Gardens steal , and pick up there Dead humane bones and hearbs that poysonous are . Here that old Hag Canidia I spi'd In a black garment close about her ti'd , Bare-foot she walkt , her locks dishevell'd were , And that Witch-major Sagana with her : Howling like Wolves , of pale and ugly hew , They both appear'd most ghastly to my view , With their long nails to scratch the earth they went , And with their teeth a Lamb in sunder rent , Whose blood they pour'd into their new dig'd pit , And conjur'd up th' infernal Fiends with it , Such Spirits as could answer to what ere They did demand ; two Images there were Brought by these Hags , by which they did their knack One made of wool , the other made of wax : The Woollen was the greater , that it might The little Waxen Image curb and fright . This Wax Effigies stood cringing by , As sinking under its servility , One Hecate invokes ; Tisyphone Is charmed by t'other : Serpents one might see , And the infernal Dogs run out and in . The bashful Moon for fear she should have been A witness to these juglings hid her face , And made our Sepulchers her lurking place . If I lie t'you in any thing I 've said , May the crowes with their dung pollute my head ! May all the rogues and whores , and thieves in town , Cast their base Excrements upon my crown . What need I all those tricks to mention , which Were done by Sagana that damn'd old Witch ? And by what Artifice the Ghosts and she Discours'd together with variety Of tones , now shrill , now flat , and how they did Hide under ground by stealth the hairy head Of an old wolf , with teeth of speckled snake , Then with the Waxen image they did make The fire to blaze : But that I might not be A tame spectator of this foolery , And those impostures unreveng'd behold , Of both those Hags so ugly and so old ; I from my Godships entrails backward spoke , As thundring as a bladder when'tis broke ; Away run both the witches into town , Out dropt Canidia's set of teeth , and down Old Sagana her snakes and poysons threw , And all her conjuring tools , off likewise threw Her Periwig , 't would make one break his heart With laughter , to observe how one ●ound fart Broke from a God , two Witches frights away , And made them run from one more weak then they . SATYRE IX . A description of an impertinent prating Fool. OF late along the streets I musing walkt , And to my self some learned whimsie talkt , When loe a wandring Trifler to me ca●e , Whom scarce I knew , save onely by his name ; And with familiar freedom took my hand , Asking me , How I did ? At your command ( Said I ) God keep you Sir. He following still , I turn'd about , and stopt to know his will. VVhat ? don 't you know me , man ? ( said he ) I too A Virtuo so am as well as you . The more I honour you , Sir , ( I repli'd ) And still all wayes to shake him off I tri'd , In thousand different postures I did go , Sometimes I walkt apace , and sometimes slow ; Sometimes I whisper'd in my Foot-boys ear , And all the while did sweat all o're for fear . Oh happy he ! ( to mutter I began ) Who hugs himself at an impertinent man ! Oh happy ! who as well himself can feast On the most foolish talker as the best ! In the mean time his tongue did gallop on , Letting no street , nor sign , nor house alone : At last , perceiving I did nothing mind , ( He said ) you 'd fain be rid of me , I find ; But you , nor I have now not much to do , I 'le therefore wait upon you where you go : VVhere lies your way ? O Lord , pray Sir do not Your self for me to so much trouble put ; My journey lies almost as far 's the Tower , To visit one you never saw before . That 's nothing sir , I 'm perfectly at leisure , And a long walk with you I count a pleasure : With that I shru●k my shoulder● , hung my ears , As a dull Ass that too great lading bears . Then he begins : If once you knew me sir , You 'ld scarce to me would any wit prefer , Who is there that can better verses write ? Or who with greater swiftness can indite ? Who of your friends can more gentely dance ? Or who can better teach the mode of France ? If you but hear me sing , you will confess , I do exces the fam'd Hermogenes . Here it was time to interpose : Have you No mother Sir , nor other kindred , who May want your company this present hour ? O no ; pale Death did them long since devour . The happier they ; Nay then , in faith , go on , Kill me out right , my friend , since th' hast begun ; My last hour 's come , and now I plainly see Thou wert intended by that Prophecie Which my Nurse spake , when I an Infant was , Clapping my feet and smiling in my face , She said ; This Boy no poison , nor no steel , No pain of Cough , or Spleen , or Gout , shall feel , But by some fatal tongue shall be destroy'd , Talkers let him , when come to age , avoid . Over against Guild-hall at length we came , He pelting me , I miserably lame . Gods so ! 'T is well remembred , hold , I pray , I have a Cause here to be tri'd to day ; Good Sir come with me in , I 'le straight dispatch . In hast , like dying men , this bough I catcht . In troth Sir I have no great skill i' th Law , My nod will keep no Iudge or Iury in awe , I 'le softly walk before , and if you make Good speed , you quickly me may overtak● . Here the perplext stood still , and scratcht his head , What ? shall I lose so dear a friend ? ( he said ) Or by my absence loose my Cause ? Nay Sir , I pray regard your business , do not stir . Let my Cause sink ( or swim ) I 'le leave it here , So I may self to such a friend endear . So on he leads , and I found 't was in vain To spoil my teeth by champing of the chain ; Straight he resumes his first Discourse ; And how ? How with my Lord stands your condition now ? Lord 's a prudent man , and private lives , Never himself to much acquaintance gives ; You 'l raise a mighty Fortune under him , But yet me thinks it would great wisdom seem , If you would take some course those to prefer About him , who might still possess his ear To your advantage , and if I were one , You might be sure govern him alone . You 're quite mistaken Sir , we live not so As you suppose , nor yet as others do ; No small Intrigues that family does breed , No plots , nor little jealousies does feed : None there does look with envious eyes upon Anothers good , but loves it as his own ; Strange and unusual this which you relate , But so it is , the more I 'm passionate To make one of your number . That you may Without dispute , if you 'l but try the way ; A man so qualified as you appear , Can't be deny'd admission any where . Well , to my self I will not wanting ●e , I 'le watch his hours , his servants I will fee ; I will salute his Chariot in the street , I 'le bring him home as often as we meet : We Courtiers strive for interest in vain , Vnless by long observance it we gain . While he did thus run on , who should we meet But my friend C — passing cross the street , C — straight found what kind of man he was , Nor to see through him , needed he his Glass : So when the usual complements were past , I trod on 's Toes , and softly him imbrac't ; I winkt , and shruug'd , and many signes I gave , Which silently did his assistance crave : But my unmerciful malitious friend , Seem'd not to understand what I intend , Enjoy'd my misery , and smil'd to see What small thin Plots I made to be set free . Dear friend ! d' you remember who last night Did us to dine with him to day invite ? I well rember it , but yet in troth I have no mind to go , for I am loth To break a fasting day , as we shall there , That 's nought I have a dispensation here . I 've none ( sayes he ) I 'm going another way , I 'le keep my conscience , and the Church obey . This said my witty Friend with cruel spight , Leaves me even when the Butchers going to smite . Under what cursed Planet was I born ? By my companion to be left forlorn ! Condemn'd to suffer this incessant breath , And by perpetual chattring talk'd to death . But now at last by great good hap there was A Bailiff seas'd on him as he did pass ; O have I caughr you Sir , you must with me , Pray Sir , will you against him witness be ? Along they go , I for revenge too joyn'd , But in the Hall we so great tumult find , Such heaps of Women follow'd us , and Boyes , That I with ease escapt amidst the noise . Sure great was my distress , when even a throng Of Lawyers was relief against his tongue . SATYRE X. By A. B. Another Discourse of POETRY . I Said indeed the Verse Lucilius writ Were rough , 't is true ; and who 's so void of wit , T●ough ne're so much his Patron or his Friend , That him against this censure can defend ? But in that very Page I said withal , That with great Wit he does the City maul , And did commend him for it much . But yet Though I allow him that , I don't admit Lucilius was so thorough-pac'd a Wit , As to be good at every thing , for so That fool Laberius Dogrel Rhimes might go For exc'lent Poems , and be much admir'd . Though 't be a vertue , and to be desir'd To make an Audience laugh well , yet there be More things requir'd to make a Poet ; he Must be caucise , his Verse must smoothly flow , And not be clogg'd with needless words that grow A burden to the Reader , who is tir'd With reading that which he at first desir'd . Sometimes 't is good to use a doleful strain , But most of all the brisk and aiery vain Now play the Rhetorician , and then To the Poetical raptures fly again . Sometimes write like a Gentleman , whose part Is to write easily without much art , A Drolling merry stile does better hit Great matters , then a down-right railing Wit ; The antient Comick Poets on this ground Are imitable , and to be renown'd , But those our spruce Gallants about the Town , ( Because they understand them not ) cry down . To sing what Calvus and Catullus writ , Is th' heighth of all their learning and their wit. He that , say they , in 's Latine Verses can Mix ends of Greek , that that 's the onely man. You aged Block-heads ! who so doat upon That Rhodian Dunce , Poet Pytholeon , And think that Pie-bald way in which he went To be both difficult and excellent . But oh ! an elegant discourse ( you 'l say ) Made up of Greek and Latine words looks gay ; 'T is just like Chian Wine when mixt among The Wine that to Falernum does belong . When thou wouldest Verses make , imagine thou Wert for thy life to plead thy own cause now , As did that criminal Petillus once , Would'st thou thy Native language quite renounce , While the Kings Council in their Mother tongue Tug for thy Condemnation , right or wrong ? To ●nterlace thy speech , would'st thou incline With forein words , and like the Canusine , Speak a compounded Gibrish ? But when I ( Who am an In-land Poel went to try To make Greek Verses , after mid-night , when Those things are real which are dreamt by men , Romulus straight appear'd to me , and told me , All men would for as great a mad-man hold me , If I attempt t' encrease that tedious store Of the Greek Poets , too too large before , As if I should Coals to New-castle send ; This to my Graecian versing put an end ; While swelling Alpin with his thundring Pen , Murders poor slaughter'd Memnon o're again , And by his barbarous Poetry destroyes Those things and persons which he goes to praise . I sport my self with writing Lines , which ne're Are spoken in Apollo's Temple , where That pedant Tarpa does presume to sit , And with much boldness judge of little wit , Nor are they oft obtruded on the Stage , To cloy the Stomack of the queazie age , As now our modern Fundanus does , Who is in scribling Playes facetious , And with a subtle whore , a cunning knave , Cheating old men , we the same fancy have In all his Playes . And Tragick Pollio sings In his three-footed Verse the deeds of Kings : But our ingenuous Varius does produce Better then any the Heroick Muse , And the smooth Rural Muses do insp●re Virgil with soft and most facetious fire . Hence 't is that I write better Satyrs then That blundring Varro , and that sort of men Who have so often tri'd to write , in vain , Yet I fall short of our Lucilius strain , Who first invented them ; nor will I dare To strip him from the Crown which did adhere T' his brows with so much glory ; though I said His Verses did run muddily , yet they had More in them that deserv'd our great respect , Then all those Vices which we should reject . But , prithee tell me ? Did thy learned eye Nothing to be reprov'd in Homer spie ? Did not Lucilius himself think fit To alter something of weak Accius wit ? Did he not laugh at Ennius lines , as though Some things in them were not quite grave enough ? And when of thee he a discourse did move , Thought thee as bad as those he did reprove ? And what should hinder , but when ever we Do read Lucilius works , we well may see If 't were the imperfection of his wit , Or crabbed Nature of the things he writ , Would not permit the Lines he made to be Elaborate , or run more evenly ? Or if that any Poet took delight A Poem in Hexameter to write , Contended onely that he had made up Two hundred Verses when he went to sup , And after Supper just as many more , Whose rhimes did run as Cassius heretofore , More swift and raging then a Torrent does , Which being condemn'd to fire , as story goes , Was burnt to ashes with the Books he writ , ( The just reward of a voluminous wit ) If he were now alive , and all that e're He found superfluous , away should pare , He 'ld scratch his head were he a Verse to write , And often to the quick his nails would bite . He that wou●d write what should twice reading stand , Must often be upon the mending hand , Ne're mind the praise of the undiscerning Crew , Content with learned Readers , though but few . Art thou so mad thy Poems to expose To Ballad-singers , and to Puppet-shows ? Now I ( I vow ) I 'm like the bold wench , that By all the people being baited at , Since I ( quoth she ) am Minion to a Knight , I all the inferiour rabble scorn and slight : Shall such an Arse-worm as Pantilius , Disturb may thoughts ? or when Demetrius does Behind my back traduce me , or that Ass Fannius ( who once Tigellius Crony was ) Abuses me , his envious rage to vent , Shall I shall foolishly my self torment ? No ; let Maecenas , and such men of wit As Virgil , will but read what I have writ , With many friends and learned persons more , Whose names I do industriously pass ore , Whom I desire to smile on what I write How ill soe'er ; But if they should delight Less then my expectation , I should be Exceeding sorrowful : But as for thee Demetrius , thee Tigellius that be But Finding Rogues , go fret your selves and pine 'Mongst your She-schollars at these lines of mine ; Sirrah , make all the haste you can , aud look That all I've said be added to my Book . The end of the First Book of Satyrs . SATYRES . BOOK II. SATYRE I. By Sir. R. F. He dilates upon the advice given him by Trebatius to write the actions of Augustus , rather then Satyrs ( as things that are dangerous to meddle with ) and shews way he cannot obey him . SOme think I am to sharp a Satyrist , And that I stretch my work beyond the list . Others , what ere I write is neeless say , And that like mine a thousand Lines a day May be spun . What would'st thou advise me now ( Trebatius ) in this case ? Sit still . As how ? Not to write Verse at all , dost thou aver As thy Sense ? I doe . Let me never stir , If 't were not better . But I cannot sleep . For that , swim Tyber ( nointed ) thrice : or steep Thy brains at night in Wine . If thou must needs Write , dare to write unconquer'd Caesars deeds , Great Rewards following . Father , that being it I 'de fain be at , my will exceeds my wit. Not every Pen can paint in horrid Field . Thick Groves of Pikes , Spears broke in French-men kill'd , And a hurt Parthian dropping from his Horse . His justice though thou maist , and his mindes force : As wise Lucilius those of Scipio , I 'le not be wanting to my self , if so Occasion serve . The passage must be clear When Horace words pierce Caesars serious ear : Whom , stroaking , if we think t' approach : ' ware heels . Is not that better then in Verse that reels , To jeer this Gull , that Prodigal , when each Man thinks he 's meant ( tho quite from thy thoughts reach ) And hates thee for 't ? what should I do ? being hot i th' head , and seeing double through the Pot , Milonius frisks . Castor on Horse-back fights : The twin of the same Egg in Clubs delights . As many thousand minds as men there be , I Like Lucilius ( better then both we ) My words in Meeter love t' enclose and bind . His way was , in his Books to speak his mind As freely , as his secrets he would tell To a tride friend : and took it ill , or well , He held his Custome . Hence it came to pass , The old mans life is there as in a Glass . His steps I follow , whom you neither can Of Luca call , nor an Appulian . ( For the Venusian both their borders ploughs , A Colony of Rome , as old Fame shews , The Sabells thence expell'd to stop that Gate , And be an Out-work to the Roman State. ) Yet I 'de not harm a Chicken with my will : For shew and countenance bearing my Quill Like a Sword sheath'd ; which why should I draw , not Set on by Rogues ? with Rust there may it rot O Iove , Father and King : and none bereave The peace I seek . But if there do , believe Me they will rew't , when with my keen Stile stung , Through the whole town they shall in pomp be sung . Servius , the penal Statutes ( anger'd ) threats Canidia to Witch them , 'gainst whom she sets : A mischief Turius , to all those wage Law Where he 's a Judge . That every one doth awe Them whom he fears , with that where his strength is , And that by Natures Law appears in this : Wolves smite with teeth , Buls with the horn ( this must Be taught them from within . ) With Scaeva trust His long-liv'd Mother ; my head to a groat , His pious hand shall never cut her throat . Not his ? No more then an Oxe bite , a Bear Kick thee : but she shall die of poison . There Now lies his skill . Me , whether ( in effect ) The quiet Harbour of old age exspect , Or Death with sable wings hover about : Rich , Poor , at Rome , or by hard Fate thrust out Into exile ; in whatsoever way Of life , I must write Verses : that 's my play ▪ O Childe ! thy taper's near the end I doubt , And that some great Mans brave will puff thee out . Why ? When Lucilius durst begin this way Of writing Verses , and the skins did flay . In which the outward-fair disguis'd their shame ; Were Laelius and he that won a name From Carthage-raz'd , offended with his wit ? Or did they winch , Metallus being hit ? And Lupus stript and whipt in Verse ? yet he Spouted his Ink on men of each degree : None spar'd but Vertue and her friends . Nay when Retir'd were from the Stage , and croud of men , Scipio's exalted vertue , and the mild Wisdom of Laelius : Till the Broth was boild , They both would play and toil with him , ungirt . Though I in wit , and in condition , short Am of Lucilius : Envy shall confess Against her will , I 've liv'd nevertheless Amongst great men : and ( thinking to have stuff Here , for her rotten teeth ) find I am tough , If learn'd Trebatius take me at my rate , Nay truly I can find nothing to bate ; Onely I warn thee , least through ignorance Of setled Laws thou come to some mischance : If any write base Verses against other , It bears a suit . If base , I grant : but Father , If any write good verse , that man 's prais'd , Caesar the Judge . If I the street have rais'd By ba●●ing at a Thief , my self being none , The 〈◊〉 with laughter cracks , I ( freed ) go home . SATYRE II. By A. B. The benefits of Temperance and Frugality . HOw great a vertue 't is , and how it tends To the good of humane life ( my worthy friends ) To live abstemiously , is not to be Learn'd at great Feasts made up of luxury , Amongst your polish'd Tables spread in State , Loaden with Dishes of stupendious Plate , Whose various splend our does amaze the Eye , And make the puzled appetite pass by What 's good , and choose the worse : but when you be Fasting , then come sift out this truth with me . This is not my Sense onely , but Offellus That Country wit , this truth did long since tell us , A prudent man , yet walkt not by a rule , Nor learn'd the formal Precepts of the School . You 'l ask , why fasting ? give me leave I 'le tell you ▪ You can no more with a full gorged belly Know vice from vertue , then a Judge that is Corrupt , discern 'twixt truth and falsities . Suppose you had hunted hard , or us'd your force To ride and mannage a high-metled Horse : Or you whose life before luxurious was , Should'st on a Roman Souldiers duty pass , Or should'st at Tennis play with might and main , Whilest the delight makes you ne're mind the pain ; Or had you been at Quoiting , and had thrown Into the yielding Air a pondrous stone , Till your much exercise had driven away That sustenance which on your stomachs lay , When you are very dry and hungry grown , Then I 'ld fain fee you let course food alone ; Or drink no Wine , unless you can procure Racy , Canary , or what Claret's pure , Or if the Butler's absent , or the Main By storms protects her Fish from being slain , A crust of bread dipt into salt well may The barking of your empty stomachs stay . You 'l ask me how this vertue may be got ? True pleasure in the daintiest Dish does not Consist , but in our selves , and any meat Is to us Venson , if obtain'd by Sweat : But no delicious Banquets can invite , Or gratifie the gorged appetite . I doubt I shan't perswade you , but that men Will feed upon dry Peacocks , rather then The Fat , but common Fowl : Mens palats be Corrupted with the very vanity Of things , and still desire to taste that food That 's very dear , and think it therefore good . Peacocks with us the best esteem obtain , Not for their Flesh , but for their gaudy Train , As if it would mens Palats gratifie , To eat those Feathers they extol so high : Or that the glorious shew would not be spoil'd , When you shall see a Peacock stript and boil'd . Although the flesh of Hens and Peacocks do In nothing differ , it appears that you Are fool'd with various colours : Be so still You 'l wonder how I have attain'd this skill . When you 've a Pike presented in a Dish , You ask impertinently , if that Fish I● the main sea , or in fresh waters caught ? And madly praise Mullets of three pound weight , Which you must cut in pieces ; but I see Most men meerly with shews delighted be : Pray , for what reason do most men dislike , ( Though they love Mullets large ) a well grown Pike ? Their curiosity's the reason for 't , 'Cause Nature made Pikes long , and Mullets short . When a mans stomach is once hungry grown , He slights no food , the coursest Bit will down ; But the luxurious Glutton sayes , I wish A pondrous Mullet wallowing in my dish ; Such fellows do onely deserve to eat With revenous Harpyes . I could wish their meat Would with moist weather stink , and loathsome grow , But their fresh Fish and Venson will do so ; And to their glutted Stomach nauseous be , By their too fulsome superfluity , When the cram'd Glutton over-charg'd with meat , To get new stomach does sharp Salads eat . Yet sometimes homely Diet does appear At mighty Princes Tables ; for Eggs there ( Which are so common ) sometimes may be seen , And the black Olives on their Boards have been . Though with the Crier Gallo 't was not thus , Who was for Luxury so infamous , Because he Sturgeon first did bring to 's Board , What cann't the Sea Mullets enough afford ? The Turbet in the Sea did safely rest , And Storks lay unmolested in their nest , Till your luxurious May'r ( that would have been ) Ingeniously brought their destruction in : And now if any other person shou'd Cry up the roasted Cormorant , rare food ! Our Roman youth , who 've onely vitious wit , Would praise and imitate both him and it . Yet ( as Offellus held ) there 's difference great Betwixt the sordid and the frugal meat , And men in vain do luxury eschew , If they do Sordidness the while pursue . So Avidienus , whom we do justly brand With name of Dog , would eat wilde Cornels , and Kept ●●ll 't was sowre all the Wine he drunk , And all his Oyl intollerably stunck , Which from his nasty horn , he , drop by drop , Distill'd upon the Colwort Sallet top With his own hand , but he would never spare To dowse it o're with his dead Vinegar , Though on his Birth-day , or his Wedding-day , Or other feast , clad in his best array . What Diet then should a wise man beat ? And which of these two should he imitate ? Keep the mid-road , and both extreams beware , Here lurks a Dog , and a feirce Wolf lies there . So cleanly he should be as not t' offend By 's nastiness the stomach of his friend ; Not be extream in either hand in 's treat , Nor by too much , nor by too little meat ; Not like Albucius of old , who when He entertain'd his friend would beat his men ▪ Nor negligent as Naevius , who at Feasts With greasie water would present his guests . This is a great vice also . Now , pray mind , What good in frugal Diet you may find . First you 'l be very healthy ; for you know Much harm to us from various meats does flow : Think on that onely Dish which was your fare , How blith and healthy after it you were ! B●t when men fell to mingling roast and boild , And fish and fowl together , health was spoild ! The sweet meats turn'd to Choller , and tough phlegm Bred a disturbance in the maws of them : Observe how pale and sick a man does rise From board , confounded with varieties ; Nay when the bodies over-charg'd , the mind Is also in the discomposure joind , And on the ground inhumanely does roul , That part of Heavenly breath , the precious soul ! While he that does a slender Diet keep , Can on the sudden lay his limbs to sleep , And in the morning rise so fresh to do Whatever business he 's inclin'd unto . And yet this temperate person sometimes may Increase his Table on some Holy-day , Or when he means his body to caress , Which is brought low by his abstemiousness ; For years will steal on men , old age must be , Because 't is feeble , handled tenderly . But if decrepid age on some men seise , Or if they fall into some sharp disease , What tender usage can be added more , Then they being young and lusty had before ? Our Ancestors stale Venson us'd to praise , Nor that they could not smell it in those dayes , But 't was with this intent , that if a Guest Came some dayes after th' ending of the Feast , 'T were better he should on cold Venson fall , Then for the Master to devour it all . I would to God I had been brought forth then , In that first age among those worthy men . D' you value reputation , which to th' ear Is gratefuller then verse or Musick are ; Great Turbets , and such costly Dishes do Begat you damage and discredit too ; Besides your parents and your friends you must Enrage , and prove to our own selves unjust ; And then in vain you will desire to die , Not being worth a Groat a Rope to buy . You 'l say , such a poor Sneak as Thrasius , Justly deserves to be rewarded thus : But you 've a great Estate , wealth without end , As much as will suffice three Kings to spend . What then ? Can there no better way be fou●d To spend that Wealth , with which you so abound ? Why should so many brave men want ? and why Should the Gods antient Temples ruin'd lie ( thon While you are rich ? Vile wretch ! Why wilt notthou Out of thy needless store something allow For thy dear Countries good ? canst thou suppose Thy fate alone will still be prosperous ; Oh , how thine enemies will laugh at thee , When thou' rt reduc'd to want and beggary ! Which of the two can certainest rely On his own temper in adversity ? That man whose pamper'd body and his mind , Have ever been to luxury inclin'd , Or that 's content with little , and doth fear What may fall out , and wisely does prepare In time of peace things requisite for war. Now that you may believe this to be true , When I was young I this Offellus knew , A man of great Estate , yet spent no more Then afterwards , when robb'd of all his store . A man might see him with his cattle , and His children tilling his allotted land , And patiently bearing that he is Farmer of that estate which once was his . I never durst eat any thing ( he 'ld say ) But Caul and Bacon on a working-day ; But if an ancient friend with me had been , Whom a long time before I had not seen , Or a good neighbour came to visit me , When rainy weather me from work set free , I made him welcome , not with costly Fish , A Pullet , or a Lamb serv'd for his dish ; Dri'd Grapes and Nuts his second Course were made , And double Figs were on the Table laid ; Then after Dinner ' t was our recreation To pass the Grace-cup round on Reputation . A health to Ceres that our Corn might grow , And smooth'd with wine the wrinckles of our brow , Let Fortune rage , and raise commotions new , Can she make me live meaner ( Boyes ) or you ? For Nature nere appointed him or me , Or any else , proprietors to be Of our own lands , though now the time is his To turn me out , yet his unthriftiness Or ignorance of tricks in law , or else Who e're survives him , him at last expells , This Farm which now by Umbrenas name is known Was mine , but none can say , It is his own ; 'T is thine , and mine , and his , live bravely then , And in all troubles quit your selves like men . SATYRE III. By A. B. That every man is in something or other mad . DAMASIPPUS and HORACE . Dam. THou writ'st so seldome , that there does appear , Scarce a new Poem from thee twice a year , But vainly spend'st thy time in looking o're Those things which thou hast written heretofore : I 'm vext at thee , that thou do'st thus resign Thy self up to the sway of sleep and wine ; The Muses negligently laid aside , And we of what we so desire deni'd . Hor. What would you have me do ? Dam. Here thou hast been Retir'd ever since Christmas did begin , Now thou' rt at leisure , let 's have something from thee That may appease our longing , and become thee : Come , strike up man , — one Verse . Hor. No , 't will not do . Dam. Thou blam'st thy harmless pen , nay the wall to Endures thy causeless rage for native guilt , 'Cause 't was in spight of Gods or Muses built . Thou did'st pretend , that if thou once could'st be Out of this Town from noise and business free , And to some little Country Vill retire , In a mean Cottage by a little ●ire , How many admirable lines should we , As the effects of thy retirement see ? Else to what end did'st thou incumber thus Thy self with Eupolis , Archilocus , Menander , Plato , and such Books as those , If thou 'lt not write at all ? do'st thou suppose That by declining vertue thou shalt be Protected from the jaws of Calumny ? Thou wilt be laught at for an Ass ; come , loath Those lewd inchantments of that Syren sloath ; Else all that honour which about thee shin'd , Got by thy exc'lent parts must be resign'd . Hor. ' Pox on your too true council . Now ( I pray ) The Gods to send a man to shave away That formal beard of thine ; but prithee how Cam'st thou me and my humour thus to know ? Dam. Since my Estates consum'd I go no more To the Exchange , as I did heretofore , But having now no business of my own , To other men I am a Broker grown ; In former time , I gave my mind to know Whether a statue were well made or no ; What was well carv'd or painted , and what ill , And how to fell or buy them I had skill . If a rare picture any where I found , I would not care to give a thousand pound , Gardens and stately houses I could buy And sell to great advantage , so that I When I was seen through the City ride , Here comes the Purchaser , the people cri'd . Hor. I know it , and I can't but wonder how Thou com'st thus cur'd of that distemper now . Dam. I 'le tell you what seems strange , and yet 't is true , My old disease was driv'n out by my new , As in some bodies there is wont to be The Head-ache cured by a Plurisie , Or one that has a Lethargy endur'd Grows frantick , and beats him by whom he 's cur'd . Hor. Be thou as frantick as thou wilt , so as Thou wilt not serve me as the Doctor was . Dam. Good friend don't cheat thy self , ev'n thou art mad , And all the world are very near as bad . If what Stertinius the Stoick saith 'Mong prudent men , does merit any Faith , That grave Philosopher at first taught me These admirable precepts , and 't was he My Spirits in my great affliction chear'd , And will'd me wear this Philosophick beard ; And from Fabritius Bridge return agen With spirit undisturb'd and calme , for when All my Estate was gon , I thither went My Cap pluckt o're my eyes , with an intent To drown my self , I fortunately spi'd That learned Stoick standing by my side . What do'st thou mean ( qd . he ) young man ? take heed That thou do not an unbecoming deed , Thou' rt driven to this by shame that 's very bad , Fearing 'mong mad men to be counted mad : Consider first what madness is , and then If it be in thee , and in no other men , Go bravely hang or drown thy self for me , I 'le never speak a word to hinder thee . He who to vitious folly is inclin'd , And is by ignorance of truth led blind , Is by the Stoick counted out of 's wits , This definition all degrees befits : All persons , nay great Princes , every one It comprehends , but the wise man alone ; Nay give me leave , and I 'le demonstrate how He who calls thee fool's as much fool as thou . Like Trav'lers passing through a Wood , when they Range up and down missing their ready way , This to the right ' that to the left hand strayes , One error fools them both , though several wayes . And tho thou think'st thou' rt mad , yet even he Is not a jot less mad that laughs at thee , Both to Fool-coats have like propriety . There is one sort of fools that start and quake At the Chymaeras which their fancies make , Cries out rocks , fire , and water him detain , When he is onely walking on the plain : Another which is full as mad as he , Though in his humor he goes contrary , Runs through all fire and water ventures life , Though Father , Mother , Brother , Sister , Wife , Or ( which is more ) his Mrs. should stand by , And warn him of the danger he is nigh , Crying aloud , Take heed ; he 'ld care no more Then Fusius the Actor heretofore When he the part of Hecuba did play , And should present her sleeping , down he lay Drunk and asleep ; Catien the Player who The part of Polidore did also do , Though he cri'd , Mother 't is I call you , wake , A thousand Catieni could not make Her stir : I think that all the Vulgar be In several humours as stark mad as he . To buy old Statues you suppose I 'm mad , But was not he that trusted me as bad ? Hor. May'st thou now borrow money of me , and ne're Pay me a farthing on 't agen , if e're I say thou' rt mad . Can it with madness stand When thou art still on the receiving hand ? But is not that Shop-keeper madder far Who slights a ready-money Customer , And deals with thee on Credit ? for suppose A Debtor should acknowledge that he owes A Thousand pounds to 's Creditor , and shou'd Give it him under 's hand , this is not good ; Nay , if he seal a Bill or Bond for 't , or What e're bindes Debtor to his Creditor , Recognizances , Statutes , Mortgages , Iudgements , and Executions , all these A cunning Knave that knows the Querks of Law Will no more value , then he does a straw : When you arrest him he will laugh at all Those troubles which on other men befal , And thorough all the Cobweb-laws escapes , Varying his tricks as Proteus did his shapes . If by the conduct of affairs we can Judge of a mad or of a prudent man , Thy Creditor's a Coxcomb , who takes pain To write in 's Books what 's ne're crost out again . Come , sayes Stertinius , hearken ; nay , come near , And mind what I shall tell you , whosoe're Is by a vain and lewd ambition swai'd , And he whom sordid avarice has made Look like a Skeleton , all those that be Given up to a destructive luxury , To doating superstition are inclin'd , Or any such distemper of the mind . Are all stark mad . The Miser stands much more Then other men in need of Hellebore : I doubt , all that Antycera produces , Was meant by Nature onely for their uses . Staberius by his Will his Heirs injoyn'd T'engrave 〈◊〉 Tomb what Wealth he left behind . And if they would not do it , he design'd They should a hundred pair of Fencers find To treat the rout , and should provide a feast As sumptuous as if Arius were their Guest , And as much corn as e're in Afric grew , This is my will ( sayes he ) what is 't to you , Whether 't be well or ill ? you will not be My Unckles , and leave your Estates to me . Hor. I think Staberius was a prudent man. Dam. What do you think of his great prudence than , When he injoin'd his Heirs they should engrave Upon his Tomb what monies he did leave Behind him ? and in all his whole life time Thought poverty to be the greatest Crime , And abhorr'd nothing more , and if he shou'd Have di'd less rich , he thought himself less good . For every thing divine and humane to Virtue , wit , comeliness and honour do Submit their Necks to riches splendid sway , Which whosoever heaps together , may Be noble , valiant , just , and wise ; nay , King , Or ( if 't were possible ) a higher thing : He hop'd by 's Wealth to get immortal fame , As if he had by virtue rais'd the same . How contrary was Aristippus mind To this ? That great Philosopher enjoin'd His men to throw his Gold o th' Lybian shore , Because the weight on 't made them travel●lower ●lower ; VVhich was the madder of these two think you ? Hor. I think there 's no comparing of those two , For that Example ne're prevails with me , VVhich shews the truth but by its contrary . Dam. Should a man load himself with Lutes , and yet To play or sing , have neither will , nor wit ? Should one that knows not how to make a Sh●o● , VVith Auls and Lasts cramb'd in a Budget go : Should one to buying ships and anchors fall , Who has no skill in Merchandize at all , A mad man and a Buzzard he would be : Call'd by all People , and deservedly . What difference is there 'twixt these and those , Who study gold and silver to enclose , And know not how to use the Wealth they gain , But from it as from sacred things refrain ? If one by a huge heap of corn should stand Watching all day with a long club in 's hand , Yet every grain thereof must let alone , Though ne're so hungry , and the corn his own , But rather feeds on bitter barks of trees , And for his drink takes Vinegar and Lees , Though millions of Pipes in 's Cellar lie Of as good wine as e're blest taste or eye , And lies in straw in his old age , while all His rich attire to moths and wormes do fall To feed on , or to rot in 's Chest. 'T is true S●ch men seem mad but to a very few , Because most people are as mad as these , And much afflicted with the same disease . Do'st thou hoard up all thy Estate for one Who was thy Slave , or is perhaps thy Son , Whom thou , accurs'd old wretch , thine heir wilt make That he in drink may spend it for thy sake ; And all least thou should'st want : How much a day Could'st thou from thy vast Treasure pare away , That thou might'st feed on good and wholsom meat , And wear apparel useful , clean and neat . If thou can'st live in any manner , why Do'st thou forswear thy self , and cheat and lye , Plunder and filch from others ? art thou in Thy perfect Senses ? if thou should'st begin To stone the very slaves which thou did'st buy , That thou art mad , the Boyes and Girls would cry . If by thy perjury thy guiltless wife Is by the Iudge condemn'd to lose her life , That thou might'st get new Portion with another ▪ Or if by poison thou destroy thy Mother , Meerly t' obtain her jointure , how canst thou Be perfect in thy understanding now ? This is not done at Argos , where such things Are done , and licenc'd by inhumane Kings ; Nor as Orestes once his Mother slew , Which by her crimes she had provok'd him to . Do'st thou suppose the frenzie of his brain Seiz'd not till after he 'd his Mother slain ? Or was he not out of his wits before He bath'd his sword in her maternal gore ; Besides since that he was accounted mad , He did no act reproveable and bad ; He ne're attempted Pilades to kill , Nor yet Electra ; onely he said ill To both , and curst them both , calling her Witch , And rail'd at him with all bad Language , which From his enraged heart and tongue could flow , Uttring what gaul and choller stir'd him to . Opimius , that Miser , was as mad , For he did need that money which he had Laid up in store , and us'd to drink the base Vejentan Wine on solemn Holy-dayes , In course Campanian Earthen pots , and on Week-dayes drunk wine whose taste and spirit 's gon . This fellow fell into a Lethargie , And his rejoicing Heir ran presently , And ransackt all his pockets for his Keys . An honest nimble Doctor this Disease Cur'd in this manner ; first he gives command Into his room to bring a Table , and Upon it his money out to pour , And bring in divers men to tell it o're , So rais'd him presently out of his fit , And gave him this wholesome advice with it ; If thou keep not thy wealth thy self , thine Heirs Will greedily seize on 't , as if ' t were theirs . What , while I am alive ? ( sayes he ) yes ( sayes The Doctor ) therefore have a care alwayes , That thou may'st live , make that thy business too . What ( sayes the Miser ) would you have me do ? Your veins ( the Doctor sayes ) will fail , you 'l die Unless with meat and cordials you supply Your fainting stomach : Nay , there 's no delay , Come , take this Cordial . Sir , what must I pay For 't ? ( quoth Opimius ) O ( the Doctor cries ) This Physick's of a very little price . How much is that ( Opimius sayes ) Four pence ( The Doctor said . ) Alas what difference ( Sayes this damn'd Miser ) is't whether I die Of this disease , or by their theivery ? Hor. Who then are in their senses ? Dam. Those that be Not fools . Hor. But what do you suppose is he That 's covetous ? Dam. A fool and mad man too . Hor. Must he be wise that covets not ? Dam. No , no , Hor. Why ( prithee Stoick . ) Dam. I will tell thee why : Suppose a Patient in his sick bed lie ; This man has not the Plague ( the Doctor cries . ) Is he well therefore ? may he safely rise ? No ( sayes the Doctor ) for the man may be Afflicted with some other malady . This man perhaps is not a perjur'd Knave , Nor yet a sordid avaritious Slave , Thank ●is good Stars for that ; yet if he be O'●e impudent , or else ambitious , he Is mad and must pack to Antycera , For what 's the odds , whether you throw away All your estate into the Sea , or not Dare to make use of that which you have got ? Opidius a wealthy person , who Had good old Rents , and at Canusium two Very good Farmes , which he 'twixt both his Sons At 's death divided ( as the story runs ) Calling them to his Bed , he told them thus ; Since l 've observ'd thee ( my Tiberius ) Tell o're thy Nuts , and in some private place To hide thy Play-games with a careful face , While thou ( my Aulus ) carelesly would'st play With thine , and loose them , or give them away ; I am afraid lest madness should possess The minds of both , though in a different dress , And make one turn a Prodigal , and t'other Be covetous , contrary to his Brother ; And therefore he did beg of Heaven , that One Son might ne're diminish his Estate , Nor t'other his increase , but be content With that which he had thought sufficient , And Nature had confin'd them to ; and least The itch of glory should their mindes infest , He by an oath injoin'd them , that if e're Either of them were Alderman or Mayor , He should b' uncapable to make a Will , But live like one run mad , or out-law'd still . Thou mad man ! wilt thou spend what e're thou hast In gifts and presents , onely that thou maist Walk on th' Exchange in state ? or else maist be Set up in Brass to keep thy memory ? When thy Hereditary Lands t' hast sold , And spent thy Fathers Silver and his Gold : Must you forsooth have such applauses made As great Agrippa , Caesars Kinsman had ? Or shall the Coward Fox , though crafty , dare With the magnanimous Lion to compare ? A Countrey fellow that by chance did meet With Agamemnon , ask'd him in the street , Why ( Agamemnon ) why didst thou forbid That Ajax body should be buried ? I am a King ( said Agamemnon . ) Nay Then ( quoth the Clown ) I have no more to say . But my commands were just , ( the King replies ) And if to any they seem otherwise , I 'le give him free leave to discourse the things . The Countrey Clown repli'd , Greatest of Kings ▪ Heaven grant you may triumphant bring away Your conquering Navy from the conquer'd Troy. Propose the Q●estion ( cries the King ) and I Will give an answer to 't : Speak . Pray Sir , why ( Reply'd the Clown ) should that Heroick wight Ajax , who was so eminent for might , And had so oft preserv'd the Grecians , not Second to any but Achilles , rot Above ground uninterr'd , that Priam may , And all his baffled Trojans laugh , and say He by whose hand so many Trojans were Deny'd their Graves , now wants a Sepulcher ? Ajax ( sayes Agamemnon ) being mad , Did kill a hundred sheep , and said he had Kill'd that renowned man Ulysses , and That I and Menalaus fell by 's hand . But when at Aulis you did basely slay Your beauteous Daughter , and on th' Altar lay Her body like a Calf for Sacrifice , Vile man ( said the Plebean ) were you wise ? Why not ? ( sayes Agamemnon . ) Quoth the Clown , Pray what has Ajax in his madness done ? He with his Sword kill'd Cattle , but his hand From murthering's wife and children still abstain'd ; True , he curs'd you and Menalaus too : But to his friend Ulysses he did do No wrong : Nor yet to Teucer ( sayes the King ) That I may Navy from the Shore might bring , The Gods with blood I wisely pacifi'd . Mad King ! 't was your own ( the Clown reply'd . ) Yes ( quoth the King ) with my own blood , 't is true ▪ In which I did no act of madness shew ; Who false things ( sayes the Clown ) with true , & bad With good , together huddles , is stark mad ; And whether it be out of folly done , Or rage , and madness , still the thing is one Ajax in killing harmless sheep was mad , And you in acting your great crime as bad ; Killing your guiltless Daughter to appease , Those vain imaginary Deities ; Upon deliberation too ; is your heart well And pure , when as it did with passion swell ? If any in a Coach about should bear A fine white Lamb , and garments for 't prepare As for a Lady , furnish it with money And Servants , call it his dear , duck , and honey , Provide a Husband for 't ; the Magistrate Must seize upon this Lunaticks Estate , And then the Guardianship of him commit To the next Kin of his who has more wit. But what if one his Daughter sacrifice Instead of a mute Lamb , is that man wise ? No man will say 't ; and therefore wheresoe're Is vitious folly , madness too is there ; And he 's a mad-man who is given to vice , That fool whom brittle Honour does intice , Is so transported with the various sound Of Drums and Trumpets , that his Brains turn round . Now as to luxury , reason doth shew , That foolish Prodigals are mad men too : There 's Nomentanus , who as soon as e're He had receiv'd a thousand pounds , which were Left him by 's Father , he proclaimed straight The Fowler and the Fisherman should wait Upon his Worship , and all Tradesmen come And bring their wares next morn to him at home ! Ba●ds , Pimps , Buffoons , and all that impious crue Of sherking Tradesmen , which young Squires undo . What followed then ? They instantly appear With their Commodities from far and near . The Baud being at Rhetorick the best , Makes a set Speech at th'instance of the rest ; May 't please your Worship , ( quoth she ) whatsoe're I or my Brethren have at home , or here , Is at your service , send for 't when you please . Now mark the silly answer which to these This youngker gives ; Poor Huntsman thou dost go In heavy Boots , and watch all night in th' Snow , And for my Supper bring'st a Bore to me : Thou Fisherman in the tempestuous Sea Tak'st me a Dish of exc'lent Fish , while I Glutted with wealth and sloth supinely lie , Unworthy such a Fortune to possess ; Your merits must make my great fortune less ; You Huntsman , there 's a hundred pounds for you ; Here Fisherman , take you a hundred too ; Pimp , for thy Wives sake , take a triple sum , For if I send at mid-night she will come . Aesop the Players Son , that Prodigal In his luxurious prank , out-ranted all ; He pluck'd a Pearl out of his Doxies ear , Which when he had dissolv'd in vinegar , He quaffs it at a draught , as who should say , ( Damn me ) I drink a thousand pounds a day . Had he bin madder if he 'd thrown away That Pearl into the Bog-house or the Sea ? Those Sons of Arrius , who were arrant Twins In luxury , toyes , love , and such vain sins ; No food upon those Gallants Tables came , But Nightingals which could sing Walsingham . How shall I rank them , 'mong the wise , or no ? Must they to th' Senate , or to Bedlam go ? If one who wears a beard should make Dirt pies , Or please himself with Chariots drawn with Mice , Or ride a Hobby-horse , or at Push-pin play , Who would not swear his wits were fled away ? If Reason does convince us that to fall In Love , is the most childish thing of all ; And there 's no difference if thou play'st with dirt , And such vain toyes ( as when a child thou wert ) And now thou' rt grown a man thou do'st adore , And whine and vex for some fair crafty Whore. Pray , tell me , can you do like Polemon ? Who being drunk , run with a Garland on Into the School of grave Xenocra●es , With Ribons , Cushions , Handkercheifs ; all these He privately took off and threw away When he heard what that temperate man did say ; And grew a grave man from a Cock-brain'd fool , So that he did succeed him in that Scho● . If you should offe● to a froppish Boy An Apple , he 'ld refuse 't ; and if you say , Take it ( my pretty Child ) he will deny ; But if you do not give it him , he 'l cry . A puling Lover's such another Ass , Who being shut out by his cunning L●ss , Hankers about the door : What shall I do , ( Thinks he ) shall I return to her , or no ? And though he uninvited would have gon , Yet when by her he is but call'd upon ; Shall I go now ( sayes he ) or rather find Some way to ease the troubles of my mind ? Shut out ! and straight call'd in ! and shall I go ? If she should beg her heart out , I 'ld say , No ; Parmeno was much wiser , though a Slave , Master ( sayes he ) those things which neither have Reason nor measure , are not fit to be Dealt with by Rule and rationality . In that vein toy call'd love , these mischiefs are , War , Peace , ill-grounded peace , and groundless war ▪ If any man should strive to fix and stay Those things which by their Nature will away ; This way and that by every wind are blown , And on blind Fortunes waves tost up and down , He does as ill , and is as much a fool , As if he would be mad by art and rule . When thou do'st laugh because a kernel hits Thy Chambers roof , art thou in thy right wits ? And when thou do'st thy Mistress entertain With Childrens prattle which cannot speak plain , How canst thou possibly be thought more wise Then little Children are , which make Dirt pies ? Now to all Lovers follies add the guilt Of all the blood which has by them been spilt , Both of themselves and others , with a Sword Let their devouring foolish Fire be stirr'd . Was it not stoutly done of Marius ? who First his own Mistress , then his own self slew : Was he not frantick ? or wilt thou acquit Him of that crime , of being out of 's wit , But of great wickedness wilt him accuse , To give nick-names to things as people use ? There was an old man in the morn would go Fasting about the streets , with hands washt too ; And to the Gods he 'ld vehemently pray , That he might ne're by Death be t'ane way , 'T is a small thing to you , ye Gods ( quoth he ) To give to one man Immortality . If any Master were about to sell Such men for Slaves , and should the Buyer tell That they were persons perfect and compleat , Unless h' except their minds , he is a Cheat. This sort of people does Chrysippus place Among the fools innumerable race . A superstitious Mother , whose young Son Sick of a Quartan lay , as he had done , Five moneths at least , to Iupiter did pray ; Oh Iove , who pains do'st send and take away , If this poor Child of mine may be ( quoth she ) Once from this shivering Quartan Ague free , On the next day thou do'st a fast command , I' th' morn in Tyber he shall naked stand . Now when the Doctor , or good luck ( that 's more ) Did to his former health this Boy restore , His doating Mother , by her Zeal beguil'd , Into the River put her Feav'rish Child ; Whose coldness did the Feaver bring again , So she her Son , which she would save , hath slain : But how came she so much out of her Wits ? Hor. Perhaps she 's troubled with Religious Fits. Dam. Stertinius , that 8 th . wise man , told me This as a friend , that I might armed be , When any man hereafter call'd me mad , I in revenge might say , he is as bad ; And teach him to look back , that he might find That unknown part o th' bag which hangs behind . Hor. After those losses which thou didst sustain , May'st thou sell every thing for so much gain ; But prithee tell me , Stoick , to what kind Of madness do'st thou think I am inclin'd , ( For there are several sorts ) but I suppose , That I am free from every one of those . Dam. When up and down the streets Agave bore Her poor Childs Head which she cut off before , Did she conceive that she was mad , ( think you ? ) Hor. Well , I 'm a fool , I must confess , 't is true ; Nay , I 'm mad too ; but ( prithee ) let me know What kind of madness I 'm addicted to . Dam. I 'le tell thee ; First , thou hast a building brain , Next , though thou' rt but an Urchin , thou would'st fain Appear a propper Fellow : Thou laugh'st at That little Fencer Turbo's strutting gate When he 's in Armes , with what a Spirit he goes , And art not thou as much ridicul●us ? Do'st thou conceive 't is fit for thee to do What e're Maecenas power promps him to ? Wilt thou who art so much below him , dare With such an eminent person to compare ? A careless Calf by chance did tread upon A nest of young Frogs , when the old was gon ; One that escap'd did to his Dam declare , That by a huge great beast her young ones were All trod upon and kill'd . How big was he ? Was he as big as I am now ? ( quoth she : ) Then swell'd her self . Bigger by half ( repli'd Frog junior . ) What thus much — bigger ( cri'd The Beldame Frog ) and still she did swell on , Until at last , Oh , Mother ! ( sayes the Son ) Forbear your swelling , for you cannot be ( Though you should burst your self ) as big as he : This Picture very much resembles you . Add Poetry to all thy madness now , Which mixt with other Vices is the same , As if thou should'st pour Oyl into the flame : Yet if a Poet had been ever known To be a sober fellow , thou art one ; I 'le not speak of thy horrid cholerickness — Hor. Hold ( prithee Stoick ) hold . — Dam. Nor of thy dress That 's so phantastical , and so above Thy Purse and Quality ; nor of thy love T' a thousand wenches and a thousand boyes . Hor. Good Damasippus follow thine own toyes , And now for shame my peccadilloes spare , Which no pr●portion with thy Vices bear . SATYRE IV. By T. F. Esq A Character of a Belly-god . CATIUS and HORACE . Hor. Whence Brother Catius , and whither bound so fast ? Cat. Oh , Sir , you must excuse me , I 'm in haste , I dine with my Lord Mayor , and can't allow Time for our eating Directory now , Though I must needs confess I think my Rules Would prove Pythagoras and Plato fools . Hor. Grave Sir , I must acknowledge 't is a crime To interrupt at such a nick of time ; Yet stay a little Sir , it is no sin ; You 're to say Grace're Dinner can begin ; Since you at food such Virtuoso are , Some Precepts to an hungry Poet spare . Cat. I grant you Sir , next pleasure ta'ne in eating Is that ( as we do call it ) of repeating ; I still have Kitchin-Systems in my mind , And from my Stomach's fumes a brain well lin'd . Hor. Whence , pray Sir , learnt you these ingenious arts , From one at home , or hir'd from foreign parts ? Cat. No names Sir , ( I beseech you ) that 's foul play , We ne're name Authors , onely what they say . 1. For Eggs chuse long , the round are out of fashion , Unfavory and distasteful to the Nation , E're since the brooding Rump they 're addle too , In the long Egg lies Cock-a-doodle-do . 2. Chuse Colworts planted on a soil that 's dry , Even they 're worse for th' wetting ( verily ! ) 3 ▪ If Friend from far shall come to visit , then Say thou would'st treat the wight with Mortal Hen , Don't thou forthwith pluck off the cackling head , And impale Corps on Spit as soon as dead ; For so she will be tough beyond all measure , And Friend shall make a trouble of a pleasure ; Steep 't in good wine let her her life surrender , O then she 'l eat most admirably tender . 4. Mushromes that grow in Medows are the best , F'rought I know there is poyson in the rest . 5. He that would many happy Summers see , Let him eat Mulberries fresh off the Tree , Gather'd before the Sun 's too high , for these Shall hurt his Stomach less then Cheshire Cheese . 6. Ausidius ( had you done so 't had undone ye ) Sweetned his Mornings-draughts of Sack with honey , But he did ill to empty veins to give Corroding Potion for a Lenitive . 7. If any man to drink do thee inveigle in , First whet thy whistle with some good Metheglin . 8. If thou art bound , and in continual doubt Thou shalt get no more in till some get out , The Muscle or the Cockle will unlock Thy bodie ; trunck , and give a vent to nock ; Some say that sorrel steept in wine will do , But to be sure put in some Aloces to . 9. All Shel-fish ( with the growing Moon increase ) Are ever when she fills her Orbe the best ; But for brave Oysters , Sir , exceeding rare , They are not to be met with every where ; Your Wall-fleet Oyster no man will prefer Before the juicy Grass-green Colchester ; Hungerford Crawfish match me if you can , There 's no such Crawlers in the Ocean . 10. Next for your Suppers , you ( it may be ) think There goes no more to 't , but just eat and drink ; But let me tell you Sir , and tell you plain , To dress 'um well requires a man of Brain ; His pallat must be quick , and smart , and strong For Sauce , a very Critick in the tongue . 11. He that pais dear for Fish , nay though the best , May please his Fishmonger more then his Guest , If he be ignorant what Sauce is proper , There 's Machiavel in th' menage of a Supper . 12. For Swines-flesh , give me that of the wild bore , Pursu'd and hunted all the Forrest o're , He to the liberal Oke ne're quits his love , And when he finds no Acorns , grunts at Iove ; The Hamshire Hog with Pease and Whey that 's fed Sti'd up , is neither good alive nor dead . 13. The tendrels of the Vine are Sallads good , If when they are in season understood . 14. If Servant to thy Board a Rabbet bring , Be wise , and in the first place carve a wing . 15. When Fish and Fowl are right , and at just age , A feeders curiosity to asswage , If any ask , Who found the Mystery ? Let him enquire no farther , I am he . 16. Some fansie Bread out of the Oven hot , Variety's the Gluttons happiest lot . 17. It 's not enough the wine you have be pure , But of your oyl as well you ought be sure . 18. If any fault be in thy generous wine , Set it abroad all night , and 't will refine , But never strein't , nor let it pass through linnen , Wine will be worse for that as well as Women . 19. The Vintner that of Malaga and Sherry With damn'd ingredients patches up Canary , With Segregative things , as Pigeons Eggs Straight purifies , and takes away the dregs . 20. An o're charg'd stomach roasted Shrimps will ease . The cure by Lettice is worse then the disease . 21. To quicken appetite it will behove ye To feed couragiously on good Anchovie . 22. Westphalia Hamm , and the Bolognia sawsage ; For second or third course will clear a passage , But Lettice after meals ! Fie on 't ! the Glutton Had better feed upon Ram-alley-Mutton . 23. 'T were worth ones while in Palace or in Cottage , Right well to know the sundry sorts of potage ; There is your French Potage , Nativity Brot● , Yet that of Fetter-lane exceeds them both ; About a limb of a departed Tup There may you see the green Herbs boiling up , And fat abundance o're the furnace float , Resembling Whale-oyl in a Greenland Boat. 24. The Kentish Pippin's best , I dare be bold , That ever Blew-cap Costardmonger sold. 25. Of Grapes , I like the Raisons of the Sun ; I was the first immortal Glory won , By mincing Pickle-Herrings with these Raisons And Apples : 'T was I set the World a gazing , When once they tasted of this Hoghan Fish , Pepper and Salt Enamelling the Dish . 26. 'T is ill to purchase great Fish with great matter , And then to serve it up in scanty Platter ; Nor it it less unseemly some believe , From Boy with greasie Fist Drink to receive ; But the Cup foul within is enough to make A squamish creature puke , and turn up stomach . 27. Then Brooms and Napkins , and the Flander tyl● These must be had too , or the Feast you spoil , Things little thought on , and not very dear , And yet how much they cost one in a year ! 28. Would'st thou rub Alablaster with hands fabl● Or spread a Diaper cloth on dirty Table ? More cost , more worship : Come , be Al-a-mode , Embelish Treat , as thou would'st do an Ode . Hor. O learned , Sir , how greedily I hear This elegant Diatriba of good cheer ! Now by all that 's good , by all provant you loue , By sturdy Chine of Beef , and mighty Jove , I do conjure thy gravity , let me see The man that made thee this discovery ; For he that sees th' Original's more happy Than him that draws by an ill-favour'd Copy ; O bring me to the man I so admire ! The Flint from whence brake forth these sparks of fire , What satisfaction would the Vision bring ? If sweet the stream , much sweeter is the spring . SATYRE V. By A. B. A way to grow Rich. ULYSSES and TIRESIAS ▪ Ul. TO all that thou hast told me heretofore , Prithee , Tiresias , add this one thing more ▪ By what designs and means may I now be As wealthy as I have been formerly ? Why do'st thou laugh ? Tir. Is 't not enough , that thou ( Thou crafty Fellow ) art restored now To Ithaca , and do'st thy Gods behold Which thy progenitors ador'd of old ? Ul. Oh , thou unerring Profit ! do but see How naked I 'm return'd , how beggerly , ( As thou fore-told'st ) my Closets rifled all , And that Estate which I my own could call , Is all consum'd by those Gallants that lay Courting my Wife , while I have been away ; An honest man and of a Noble house , If poor , is no more valued then a Louse . Tir. Well then , since poverty affrights thee so , In brief I 'le tell thee how thou rich shalt grow : If any Friend send thee a brace of Phesants , Or any other rarities for presents , To thy next wealthy Neighbour , if he 's old , Send them away , so they 're not given , but sold ▪ And if thy Garden or thy Field bring forth Melons , or any other Fruits of worth , Send to some wealthy man a taste e're thou Do'st any of it to thy Lar allow ; For in this age our muck●admiring Elves Adore rich men more then the Gods themselves . Though perjur'd Rogues , ignobly born and bred , Murther'd their Brothers , and their Country fled , Yet wait upon them when they do command , And let them alwayes have the upper-hand . Ul. What ? Shall I give the wall to such a base Inferiour Rascal as old Damon was ? At Troy I ever scorn'd it , there did I Contend with Great ones . Tir. Thou 'lt a Beggar die . Vl. This heart wil stoutly bear such things as these , I have endur'd far greater i● my dayes : But prithee , learned Doctor , tell me how I may get heaps of Gold and Silver now . Tir. I 've told thee , and I 'le tell it thee again , Thou art a fellow of a subtle Brain ; Enquire what old Rich men are like to die , Observe their humours , keep them company , Ply them with Presents still , that thou maist be Nam'd in their wills an heir , or legatee ; And if perhaps one or two subtle men Nible the bait , and straight whip off agen ▪ And scape thy hook , and thou art cheated so , Do not despair , nor yet thy art forgo . Next , if there be a Law-suit great or small , That side that 's rich , and has no childe at all Be for , though unretain'd , and let thy Tongue Beat down his Adversary , right or wrong ; Be the manne're so honest , and the suit Never so just , or of so good repute , If he has Children , or a Wife that may Produce him Children , throw his Cause away . But say to thy rich childless Client ; Sir , May 't please your worship , or your honour ! ( for Titles of Honours , and such terms as these , Do Mortals tender Ears most strangely please . ) 'T is not your money , but your virtues have Made me your Friend , your servant , may your slave ; I know the Riddles of the Law , and can Menage your Suits ; and I 'le give any man Leave to pluck out mine Eyes , if ever he Can cheat or fool you , leave your Cause to me ; I 'le take such care that you shan't loose a Groat , Noe yet ●e laught at ; bid him take no thought , But away home to 's Country house , and there His mind and body both repose and cheer ! Or else do thou thy self turn Advocate , And for thy Client never cease to prate : Endure the scorching heat , the piercing cold , And then thou shalt the gazing Clown behold Jogging with 's Elbow those that next him stand , Look , look ( sayes he ) how he endures it , and How eagerly he pleads there for his friends , Sure he has all the Law at 's Fingers ●nds : The Fish will come in sholes then to be caught ▪ And thou may'st fill thy Net at every draught . Or if a rich man have an onely Son Lies dangerously sick and drawing on , Be n't too officicus to th' old man , least he Thy purpose through thy diligence should see , But gently screw thy self into him , and Get thy self writ down , Heir at second hand , That if to 's Child any disaster come , Thou next in order may'st supply his room ; 'T is ten to one but this design will take , And so his great Estate thine own thou'lt make . If one desire thee to peruse his Will , Seem to deny 't , thrust it away , but still So as to glance thine Eye on it , and see What Legacies , and who 's the Legat●e ; Let thy quick eye run all the Paper o're , Whether thou' rt Heir alone , or join'd with more . Oftimes an o're-grown crafty Scrivener , which By being in Offices grows wise and rich , Cheats the next Kindred of th' expected pelf , Leaves the right Heir out , and puts in himself , Makes him both needy and ridiculous too , ( As Aesops Fox did serve the gaping Crow . ) Ul. Art thou inspir'd ? or do'st thou go about On purpose with these ridling words , to flout And to delude me ? — Tir. No , Laertes Son ! Whate're I say , will , or will not be done ; For great Apollo hath bestow'd on me This admirable knack of Prophesie . Ul. If it be lawful then , prithee unfold The meaning of this Fable which th' hast told . Tir. The time shall come when our young Emperor , he Who does derive his Royal Pedigree From the Divine Aeneas , at whose beck The sturdie Parthians shall submit their Neck , And he shall grow so great by Sea and Land , All Princes else shall stoop at his command : Some crafty Courtier , as Coranus was , Shall have a mind t' a hansome strapping Lass , And wed that Dog Nasica's Daughter , who Will not a Groat on him with her bestow , Nor yet will put her off at any rate , Unless to one that has a vast Estate : But here 's the cheat , he bids th' old man read or'e His Will , which subtly was contriv'd before . The griping sl●ve thinking he has his end , Denies to view the Will , and does pretend He aim'd not at the Wealth , but to have one Of Honour and of Merit to his Son. What need I stand gazing on 's Will ( thinks he ) My Daughter must have all whate're it be : But being much intreated , does peruse The Will at last , and after divers views , Finds nothing is bequeath'd to him or his , But ev'n to hang himself , or mourn for this . One thing more I would have thee mind ; where e're , Thou of an old rich doating man do'sthear , Who 's govern'd by his Serving-man , or by His crafty W●nch ; joyn in society With those , and praise them to their Master , so To him behind thy back they 'l praise thee too : This trick will will help thee much ; but nothing can Avail so much as working on th' old man. If he writes Verses ne're so like an Ass , Extoll them to the Skies ; and if he has A mind t' a Wench , send thy Penelope ; Do 't of thine own accord ; be sure that he Don't ask thee for her ; freely her present , And wish she may to 's Worship give content . Ul. D' you think my Wife , who is so vertuous And modest , who so stoutly did oppose So many suitors , and continued chaste , Will be seduc'd t' anothers lust at last ? Tyr. They 'd little Souls , and knew not how treat , Nor to present a Lady that 's so great : Theirs was but Kitchin-love , they did desire To fill their Bellies , not to slake their fire ; So thy Penelope continued chaste ; If she of one old man but once should taste , She 'ld share the gains with thee , and cease no more Then dogs from sheep , when they 've kil'd sheep before . Nay wonder not at this that I have told , I found it all to true when I grew old . A damn'd old Hag who did at Thebes die , Order'd this Funeral solemnity By her last Will ; her body she would have Anointed o're with Oyl , and to her Grave She order'd him who was to be her Heir , On 's naked Shoulders her oyl'd Corps to bear , And if by th'slippriness he let her fall , What e're she left , he was to forfeit all : He , while she liv'd , did ( I believe ) pretend Great love to her , she 'ld have it without end . Walk war●ly , and see thou be not found Wanting in duty , nor too much abound ; To sickly men , and such as are morose , A prating fellow is most tedious . Yet s●llen silence affect not at all , But Dav●s-like be something Comical , Thy Head on one side lean'd , as if he were A man of whom thou stood'st in mighty fear : Be very dutiful , and if the Air Blow ne're so little , bid him have a care Of his most precious tender head , and when He 's in a Croud , get him straight out agen , And with both shoulders thrust aside all those , Who do his easie coming out oppose . And when he falls to talking bow thine ear , If his own praises he delights to hear , Ply him with high Encomiums , and fill Him Bladder-like with swelling words , until He lifts both hands up to the very skies ; An honest Servant ! 't is enough , he cries . And when at length thou by his death shalt be . From this great care and tedious service free , And being broad awak'd shalt hear it read , Ulysses quarter-heir to him that 's dead , Then with a loud voice cry ; And is he gon , What ? Have I lost my dear Companion ? Where now shall I another Patron find , Who 's of so just and of so stout a mind ? Nay weep a little , if thou canst ; 't is good Thy inward joy should not be understood . And if th' interment should be left to thee , Be sure thou do 't with pomp and decency ; The Neighbours all about will celebrate A funeral that 's manag'd in great State. If one of the oldest Coheirs chance to be Infirm in 's body , or cough dangerously , Apply thy self to him , tell him he shall Buy what to thy share by the Will does fall ; Whether 't be house or ground , tell him thy mind Is more to money then to land inclin'd . But Proserpine recalls me to my Cell , I must obey and go ; Live long , farewel . SATYRE VI. By Sir R. F. He saith he lives content with what he hath , and wishes no more . Then compares the Commodities of the ease he injoyes in the Countrey , with the discommodities of businesses and troubles which accompany the City life . THis was my wish , A moderate scope of Land , A Garden with a pl●n●eous Spring at ha●d : And to crown these a plump of trees : Heaven gave Better then this ; 'T is well , no more I crave Good Mercury , make but these 〈◊〉 indure ; If neither by ill wayes I did procure , Nor by ill wayes shall waste them : if I scape Longings : O that you Nook , which doth ●ishape My Field , were added ! O that I might find A pot of Gold ! as ( Hercules to friend ) He did , who hir'd to delve anothers ground , Bought the same Land he digg'd with what he found : If what I have please me : if thou incline , When I pray , Make my Flock , and all that 's mine Fat , but my wit ; and as th' ast ever done , Stand my great Guardian . Therefore ( when being flown ) Out of Romes Cage into the Woods , I put Discourses in rough Verse , and horse my Foot ) Nor Feavers kill me , nor Ambitions itch , Nor ●ickly Autumns making Sextons rich . FATHER MATUTE : or Janus ( if that style Affect thee more ) from whom their births , and toil , According to the Julian year men date , VVith thee I auspicate my work . When straight Thou thy self hurriest me away to Rome To be a Surety : Quick , least some one come Before , that 's more officious ; Rain , or Blow , And though the Colds shrink day to nothing , goe I must : and after , wrastle through a Croud , And crack my Lungs , t' undo my self aloud : Injure , who ere is slower . Name of Mars ! What mean you ? whose Solicitor ? ( Thus curse Those men , upon whose Corns I tread ) O! you Hasting to serve Maecenas , care not who You run o're . I 'le nere lie ; this grieves me not : 'T is Musick . But anon , when I have got Esquiliaes misty Top , thousand affairs Of other men flie buzzing in mine ears , And sting me back and sides ; Roscius requests To morrow , Two , you 'd help him i' th' Requests . The Secretaries pray you 'd not forget A business that concerns the Publick , Great , And new , today : stay Quintus , get this Bill Sign'd by Maecenas : If I can I will. Nay , thou can'st do 't ; and presses me . 'T is now A seven years past , Maecenas doth allow Me of his Family , onely t' advise Whom he should take into his Coach in journeys , To whom commit his Meddals : What 's a Clock ? Which Fencer will beat ( think'st thou ) or which Cock ? 'T is a hard Frost : Will 't bear another Coat ? With such like trifles as are safely put In leaking ears . This Prentiship have I Serv'd under Envy's lash , more and more daily . Our Friend Bowl'd with Maecenas th' other day , I , and they sate together at the Play : ( Some men have Fortune ! ) Blowes there through the street , A bleak news from the Change ? straight all I meet ; G●odman : ( for thou being near the Gods must know ) Do'st hear ought of the Dacians ? In sooth , No. Thou 'lt ne're leave jeering . Hang me , if I do . The Lands th●n which the Emperor promis'd to The Souldiers , in SICILIA shall they be Allotted to them , or in Italy ? Swearing , I nothing know : Well , Goe thy wayes For a deep pit of secresie ! and gaze . Mean while my Taper wasts : scarce time to pray : O Fields , when shall I see you ? O , when may I , rould in Books , or lull'd in sleep and ease , Opium life's cares with sweet forgetfulness ? When shall I taste the Pythagorean Bean With fav'ry broth , and Bacon without lean ? O nights , and suppers of the Gods , which I And mine , consume in my own Family ; Where my Clowns , born within doors , tear the ●east I tasted to them ; where the lawless guest D●ies the unequal Cups , as his Complexion Asks soaking showres , or moderate refection . Then talk we not of buying Lands , nor school Other mens lives : nor whether Caesars Fool Dance well , or not : But things of more concern , Are our discourse , and which men ought to learn : Whether to happiness do more conduce Vertue or wealth ? if we our Friends should chuse For ends , or honesty . What 's understood Truly by Goods ? and which is the chief good ? My Neighbour Cervius , interweaves his old Fables , as thus : Aurelius wealth extoll'd , ( Forgetting with what cares it tortures him ) I 'le tell you a Tale ( quoth he : ) Once on a time , The Country Mouse receiv'd in her poor house , Her antient and good friend the City Mouse ; A mighty Huswife , and exceeding nigh , Yet free in way of Hospitality . In short , the Chick-pease she had laid for ●oard , And unthrasht Oats she sets upon the Board , Brings scraps of Bacon in her mouth , and dry Barley ; desiring with variety ( Had it been possible ) to have o'recame The stately niceness of the City-dame . When the good wife her self on her Straw-bed , ( Leaving the best ) on Chaff and Acorn fed . At length , her guest : Friend , how canst thou indure To live in this Rock-side , moapt and obscure ? Wild Woods preferr'st Thou to a Town , and Men ? Come go with me . Since all shall die , and when We go , our Mortal souls resolve to dust , Live happy whil'st thou may'st , as one that must Be nothing a while hence . Drawn by this spell , The Country Mouse skips lightly from her Cell , And both their way unto the City keep , Longi●g by night over the walls to creep : And now 't was mid-night , and her foot each sets In a rich house : where glittering Coverlets Of Tyrian Die , on Ivory-beds were past , And many Offals of a great feast past , Lay in the Pantry heapt . Her Rural mate Pray'd to repose under a Cloth of State ; The City Mouse , like an officious Hoast , Bestirs her self to fetch bak'd , boil'd , and roast , And playes the Carver , tasting all she brings , She thinks the world well chang'd ; and Heavens good things Stretching , injoyes ; when straight flies ope the room , And tosses both out of the wrought Couch plom , Running like things distracted , but much more When with Molossian Dogs the high roofs roar : Then said the Country Mouse , No more of this , Give me my Wood , my Cave , and Roots with peace . The same by another Hand . THis , this the sum of all my wishes was , In a small farm my life obscure to pass , Where I a Garden and a Spring might see , A little Grave , or at the least a Tree : But here the bounteous Gods have given me more , Then all my largest hopes conceiv'd before ; 'T is well , I 'm thankeful , and no more I wish , But onely that they should continue this . If by no wretched gain I ever yet Made my self guilty , that I might be great ; If by no vitious course , or squandring way , I shall my life to poverty betray ; If I send up to Heaven no prayer like these , O that kind Heaven would give me to possess That narrow spot of ground which nere me lies , And ●'re my Garden walks too high doth rise ! Oh , that some luckie hit of Fortune wou'd Bring to my hands such unexpected good , As once she did to a hir'd Plough-man , who While he with usual hopes the Field did plough , He found of hidden treasure so great store , He bought the Field wherein he toil'd before . No , if my mind be equal in desires , And to no more then what I have aspires , Then let just Heaven keep my Estate from harm , Keep my Lambs safe , that they may keep me warm● Let me enjoy what 's needful , and what 's fit , Have all things fat about me but my wit ! May the Gods be propitious still to me , And be my guardians as they use to be . And now in this so close and silent life , Stole from the arts of Court and Cities strife , What should I write but Humerous Satyres here ? Satyres the Woods inhabitants alwayes were . Here no ambitious Raptures heat my head , Here no infection through the air is spread ; Here I in midst of tempests am secure , Nor fear the fall of Chimneys every hour ; Here all the stormy windes that chance to rise , Onely bring ●ounder sleeps unto my eyes : Or if sometimes their fury they do spend On some tall Oak , and it asunder rend , Their very mischief's useful here , and by Their rage my wood-mans labour they supply . But hold , while I my self thus flatter here , Reck'ning before each pleasure of the year , I ●ad forgot that I su●pena'd was , And up to London suddenly must pass ; Away I must , and ride through thick and thin , There to arive before the Term begin ; To Horse I must what ever wind doth blow , Whether the dayes do long or shorter grow ; For all my shrugging , yet away I must ; Thither I come , and through the croud I thrust : Methinks the stream I do already feel ; As I pass through , sometimes I kick ones heel , Sometimes anothers Cornes I tread upon , While they do curse and cry , whither d' you run ? What ails you ? why so fast ? do not you see That we by those before us hindred be ? To my Maecenas House I still press through , Remembring to what company there I go , That , that indeed is sweet to me ; for there Is pleasant company and healthy air To me , who from the Sea-coals and the noise Escap'd , a while a mouthful there injoyes ; But when I tired and puffing thither come , A hundred strangers business do hum About my ears , a hundred trifles fall Upon my head , back , shoulders , covering all . Of my whole life the greatest part I 've spent , Not with my self , or to my own content , But in that pomp , which I of all things hate , Th' acquaintance of chief Ministers of State , Though all th' employment I had with them was Onely to help some idle hours to pass : Sir , my Lord such a one desires that you Would be at Westminster at two : There did a Merchant , Sir , for you inquire , Your aid in some rich project to desire : I pray Sir get his Graces hand to this , He knows me , and it reasonable is . And if I say I 'le do my best in it , Oh Sir ( sayes he ) if you but think it fit To speak a word , th' event I need not fear , And then some Bribe they whisper in my ear ; All 's but for them to exe●cise the●r pride , And all that wa●t for business to deride , While we within in private shut the while , With such vain tattle do the time beguile : What is the clock ? 't is very cold to day , How do you like these Verses , or that Play ? Such were the grave affairs of State , that we Transacted in our envy'd secresie ; Yet by this means , 't was nois'd about the Town That I a mighty favorite was grown : D' ye hear the news ? ( sayes one ) our friend did ride Last night with my Lord Chancellor side by side ; He is a rising man , and happy me , I him to day at least two hours did see In private with his Highness , and his Grace Gave him a Friendly smile as he did pass . When once the World hath taken this report , Then all the Mounsieurs brisk about the Court , Where e're I meet them kindly me salute , Y' are well met Sir , you know without dispute How matters goe ; ( say they ) for now you are Acquainted with all States-men secrets here . And how ? and how ? and when d' ye expect the Fleet ? When will the King set forth the Que●n to meet ? I know not . Come you 'r such another man ! L●t all the Gods their judgements on me rain , If I know any things . And what d' ye hear , When did the Portuguez resign Tangier ? Is all in Ireland quiet still or no ? When will my Lord Lieutenant thither goe ? Which way are things accommodated there , For the old Irish , or the Purchaser ? Still I persist that I do nothing know , At my reserv'dness they much wonder shew ; That I 'm a close and trusty man they swear , Fit to be made a Privy-counsellor . Thus I my time to ●uch vain fopperies give , And onely in my wishes truly live : Oh , when shall I the Country see again , When in a medow , or a shady plain , Shall I once more securely read and sleep , And no account of the dayes motion keep ? But by a pleasant thoughtful idleness Of humane life make the long journey less : Oh Beans and Bacon ! O delicious meal ! Such as the first and innocent men did eat Of fruits , for which Pythagoras was wise , When he all other dainties did despise ; Oh nights and suppers fit for Gods to eat , For even the Gods have sometimes lov'd retreat . There o're my merry Servants I am King , Yet fear no Poison in what e're they bring . There free from all the gentle rudeness , which The Laws of Drinking in the City teach , One takes a Brimmer up , another cries , Hold , hold , pray not too much , that will suffice . All drink what e're they please , and none by stealth Need put this Glass by , or escape that health . There no discourse of other men comes in , Nor who this Race , who did that Cock-match win , Not who commands the fashion of the Town , Who the best Actor is , Lacy , or Mohume ? We talk of things that nearer us concern , And which 't is more material to learn , What kind of life a prudent man should chuse , Or to be rich , or to be virtuous ; What into strongest friendship men doth bind , Profit and interest , or the Goods o th' mind : What of true happiness the nature is , What are its measures , properties , degrees . C — the while ( for he too did the same ) Forsook the world with me , and thither came C — still mingles things that are more gay , Rough Morals with old Stories doth allay : Yet not that all our talk should stories be , But onely when they genuine come and free : Then if some new arriv'd half-witted Guest , ( Half witted sure he needs must be at best , ) Admires the City and the glories there , How splendidly these Lords or those appear , Against him which such railery he disputes , And with a Mouses Argument confutes . By Mr. A. Cowley . AT the large Foot of a fair hallow tree , Close by plow'd grounds , seated commodiously His antient and hereditary house , There dwelt a good substantial Country Mouse , Frugal and grave , and careful of the main , Yet one who nobly once did entertain A City Mouse , well coated , sleek , and gay , A Mouse of high degree , who lost his way Wantonly walking forth to take the air , And arriv'd early , and belighted there For a dayes lodging ; the good hearty Host The antient plenty of his Hall to boast , Did all the stores produce that might excuse , With various taste the Courtiers appetite , Chitches and beans , peason , and oats and wheat , And a large Chesnut , the delicious meat Which Iove himself were he a Mouse would eat ; And for a haut-guest there was mixt with these The sword of Becon and the coat of cheese , The precious relicks which at Harvest he Had gathe●'d from the Reapers luxury : Freely ( said he ) fall on , and do not spare , The bounteous Gods will for to morrow care . And thus at ease on Beds of straw they lay And to their Genius sacrific'd the day : Yet the nice Guests mind ( Though breeding made him civil seem and kind ) Despis'd this Countrey Feast , and still his thought Upon the cakes and pies of London wrought . Your bou●ty and civility ( said he ) Which I 'm surpris'd in these rude parts to see , Shews that the Gods have given you a mind Too noble for the fare which here you find : Why should a Soul so virtuous and so great , Loose it self thus in an obscure retreat ? Let Savage Beasts lodge in a Countrey Den , You should see Towns , and manners , and know men , And taste the generous luxury of the Court , Where all the Mice of qualitie resort , Where thousand beauteous shee s about you move , And by high fare are pliant made to love . We all ere long must render up our ●reath , No Cave or Hole can shelter us from Death ; Since life is so uncertain and so short , Let 's spend it all in feasting and in sport . Come ( worthy Sir ) come with me and partake All the great things that Mortals happy make . Alas , what vertue has sufficient armes T' oppose bright Honour and soft pleasures charms ? What wisdome can their Magick force repel ? It draws this Reverend Hermit from his Cell . It was the time when witty Poets tell , That Phoebus into Tethys bosome fell , She blusht at first , and then put out her light , And drew the modest Curtains of the night . Plainly the truth to tell , the Sun was set , And to the town the wearied trav●llers get To a Lords house , as Lordly as can be , Made for the use of pride and luxury . They come ; the gentile Courtier at the door Stopt , and will hardly enter in before . But this , Sir , you command , and being so , I 'm sworn t' obedience ; and so in they go Behind a Hanging in a spacious room , The richest work of Mortelacks noble Loom . They wait a while their wearied Limbs to rest , Till silence should invite them to their f●ast , Alont the hour that Cyn●hia's silver light Had toucht the pale meridies of night . At last the various Supper being done , It hapned that the company was gone Into a room remote , Servants and all , To please their noble fancies with a Ball. Our Host leads forth his stranger , and does find All fitted to the bounties of his mind : Still on the Tables half fill'd Dishes stood , And with delicious bits the flow'r was strew'd , The courteous Mouse presents him with the best , And both with fat varieties are blest : The industrious peasant every where does range , And thanks the Gods for his lives happy change ; Loe in the midst of a well fraighted Pye They both at last glutted and wanton lie : When ( see the sad reverse of prosperous fate , ) And what fierce stormes on mortal glories wait , With hideous noise down the rude Servants come , Six Dogs before run barking into th' room , The wretched Gluttons fly with wild affright , And hate their fulness which retards their flight . Our trembling Peasant wishes now in vain , That rocks and mountains cover'd him again : Oh , how the change of his poor life he curst , This of all lives ( said he ) is sure the worst . Give me again ye Gods my Cave and Wood , With peace let tares and acorns be my food ! SATYRE VII . By A. B. HORACE and DAVUS. The miseries of a Debauched life . Dav. I 'Ve over-heard you , and a mind I have ( Slave , To speak a word t'you , but being but your I am afraid . — Hor. — Who art thou , Davus ? Dav. — Yes , Davus , who alwayes to his Patron is A Slave so loving and so true , that he Deserves at length that you should make him free . Hor. Go on , and use Decembers freedom now , ( Because our Ancestors did that allow . ) Speak what thou hast a mind . Dav. — Most men delight In Vice continually , and with all their might Pursue their lewd designes : Many there be Float up and down with much inconstancie . Now they will lead a virtuous life , but then They quickly tumble into vice agen . How fickle Priscus is ! sometimes he ' ! be With ne're a Ring on 's hand , sometimes with three : And every hour he 'l vainly change his Gown ; Sometimes he 'l lodge i' th noblest house in Town , Straight in the meanest Cottage he will lie , And thence come forth looking so nastily . Now he at Athens studies hard , but straight Away he comes to Rome to fornicate . So various in his life , as if he 'd been Born in all shapes Vertunuus e're was in . That Gamester Volanerius , when the Gout Had rack'd and shrunk up all his joints throughout , A Fellow by the day he hir'd and sed To take the Dice , and throw them in his stead . How much more constant men in Vices be , So much the easer is their misery ; 'T is better far to keep an equal pace , Then sometimes slack and sometimes stretch the Trace . Hor. Yet all this while thou tell'st nor to what end ( Thou sleering Knave ) these fullen words do tend . Dav. They 're meant of you . — Hor. Why so ( you Rogue ? ) Dav. — You praise Mens fate and wayes who liv'd in former dayes , And yet if any God move you to use The like your self , you obstinately refuse , Either because you don't conceive what you Your self affirm thereof is right and true ; Or else the truth you faintly do deftend , And are not such a man as you pretend ; And when you stick so fast , you do desire In vain to pluck your feet out of the mire . The Country you admire when you are at Rome , But when into the Country you are come , A City life you above all things prize , And Rome you vainly do extoll to th' skies . When you are not invited forth to sup , Your own safe Diet you do so cry up , Pretending if you e're go forth , 't is still To please your Friend , but sore against your will : And you 're so pleas'd , and count your self so blest , When you are not invited out to feast . But if Maecenaes send for you to come , How all the house rings with your noise at home ! What , not the Barber come yet ? — Jack ! — who 's there ? Where are these Ragues , my Servants ? — does none hear ? And then away you post t' your Patrons feast , Where Milvius that Parasite , and the rest Which feed upon him , curse and rail , and speak Base words of you , when they away must sneak . One ( I confess ) did tell me to my face , You did your pleasure in your Belly place ; And call'd you smell-feast , feeble , sluggard , sot , What they could think , as Glutton , and Toss-pot . Now since you are as bad as I can be , Nay perhaps worse , why should you rail at me , As if you 're better ? when you but disguise With vertuous names the foulness of your vice . When you were with anothers wife in bed , And simply by his Slave discovered , Trapand and apprehended , were not you A verier fool then I ? — Nay , never go To fright me with your surly countenance ; Bridle your passion , don't your fist advance , While I impartially declare unt ' you That which Crispinus Slave reveal'd to me . You 're for a married woman , while your poor Slave Davus is content with a poor — Which of our crimes are greater , your or mine ? When heat of blood does me to th' flesh incline , I take a common wench , with whom I do Such things as humane Nature promps me to ; And having done , I presently depart , My name not blemish'd by it , nor my heart Solicitous , where those who next there lie , Be handsomer or richer men then I. But when you lay your Ornaments aside , And sneak along for fear you should be spi'd : Are you not what you seem , when you become Instead of a grave Senator a Groom ? And are into anothers Lodgings led , With an old Cap to hide your powdred head ; 'Twixt lust and fear such a contest is in you , Your flesh and bones still trembling do continue . What difference is 't if you are bound for hire To be destroi'd , whether by Sword or Fire ? Or to be thrust into a nasty Chest With head and heels contracted to your breast , Where by the Maid you have secured bin , The Baud that 's privy to her Mistress sin . Has not th' abused Husband then just power , Both o're his wife and o're her Paramour ? More just o're the Adulterer , yet she Nor place nor habit shifts , nor publickly Commits the sin ; the woman is in fear , And believes not your promis'd love to her : But you 're a voluntary Slave to your lust , And with that raging Tyrant do intrust All your estate ; your safety , liberty , Repute and life , things which so precious be . And when you have escap'd from all those Snares , A man would think you should be full of fears , And would by this take warning now , but you Seek how to sin , and to be plagu'd anew . Oh! you that make your self so oft a Slave , What bruit Beasts are so mad , that when they have Made their escape by breaking off the chain , Will to the snares expose themselves again ? You say , you are no Adulterer , nor I A Theif , because I warily pass by Your plate , but were the punishment away , You to Adultery , I to Theft should stray . Are you my Master , and so much a Slave , To those ill powers which Dominion have O're men and things ? and have so often bin Freed from your slavery , yet again get in ? Adde this thing to the rest , which seems to me An Argument of great validitie , If he that does a Slave serve and obey , Is a Slaves Vicar ( as you Scholars say ) Or but his Fellow-slave , pray tell me then What must I be to you ? for even when You rule o're me you are a wretched Slave , To other powers , and no true motion have , But are like wooden Puppets mov'd about , Not by your Nerves within , but Wires without . Hor. Who then is free ? Dav. He that is wise , and can Govern himself , that , that 's the true Free-man ; Whom prisons , want , nay Death , can't terrifie , Who quells his vain desires , and valiantly Contemns the froth of popular applause , And squares his actions all by virtues laws : No outward thing can alter him at all , And Fortune 's baffled if on him she fall . Can you pick a discription out of this , Which may express your self ? — Your high Mistress Demands a hundred pound a time of you , And if not given her , pouts and looks askew , And in a pet she thrusts you out of door , Flings water on you to affront you more : Then in another mood she calls you back ; And are you free ? Come , come , withdraw your neck Out of this shameful Yoke , and say I 'm free , Which you in this condition n're can be ; For you 've a Master rigid and severe , Does o're your mind and body domineer ; And though you 're tir'd , and able scarce to stir , He cruelly rides on with switch and spur . Pray Sir , when you so many hours lie lazing , On some rare piece of Painting vainly gazing , Wherefore are you more innocent then I , When on a Battle I do cast mine eye , With Char-coal or Red-oker rudely done , And see the Fencers nimbly strike and shun Each others blows , in various postures , so As if the Fight were real , not a Show : I must be call'd a loytering Rogue , but you In antient Painting for a Critick go . If I pursue a hot well-sented Cake , I am call'd Rascal ; but when you do make Your sumptuous Banquets with all luxury , You must a noble person counted be : Pray wherefore should my petty luxurie Be far more prejudicial to me , Then yours that 's greater is to you ? if I Indulge my Belly , I 'm lash'd presently : And are not you punish'd as much as that , Who on your Belly spend your whole Estate ? Feasts to perpetual Feasters odious are , And Drunkards feet refuse their paunch to bear . If a poor Boy sell his stoln Comb to buy A bunch of Grapes , we blame him presently ; And yet that Bellie-slave goes blameless , that To gratifie his paunch sells his Estate . Besides all this , you are not the same man For two hours space together , neither can You tell which way to pass your time away As you ought , when you have a leisure day , But Vagrant-like you from your self do flie , Sometimes with wine or sleep you vainly try To ease your mind , but wheresoe're you go Your guilty Conscience dogs and pricks you too . Hor. Where 's e're a stone ? — Dav. — At whom Sir would you throw , If you could finde a stone ? — Hor. 'S death ! where 's my Bow ? Dav. Alas ! my Master 's grown stark raging mad , Or else makes Verses , which is full as bad ! Hor. Get hence , or to my Farm else , where I have Sent eight already , I 'le send thee the nineth Slave . SATYRE VIII . By I. W. Esq A description of an unhansome Treat . HORACE and FUNDANUS . Hor. How lik'd ye wealthy Nasidenus feast ? For yesterday , intending you my guest , 'T was told me you were there , and from noon too . Fund . Troth we were never merrier . ( Hor. ) As how ? ( And if it ben't too troublesome ) declare How he receiv'd you ; what your bill of fare ? Fund . Our first encounter was a Lucan Bore , Kill'd , the wind South , for so the Master swore ; About the Dish lay Lettice , Radish , Beets , And such as whet the squeasie appetites , As Skirworts , Pickled Herrings , and next these , A Poynant sauce made of the Coan Lees : This took away , two pretty Striplings come , One wip'd the Table , t'other swept the room ; And , as you have seen an Attick Virgin go To Ceres Sacrifice ; straight other two , A Black the one , brought each his basket in , This full of Caecub , that of Chian wine : When straight mine Host ; Maecenas ! if you like A fuller bodi'd , or a greener , speak ; I have 'um both ( Hor. ) Poor wealth ! — But prithee say , What were your company ? ( Fund . ) On the first bed lay My self , next me Thurinus and below Was Varius ; On the second , Bal●tro , With him Vibidius , both Maecena's guests ; On the third , lay the Master of the feasts 'Twixt Nomentan , and Buffoon Portius , That swoops whole Custards , ere ye say , what 's this ; For his sake , t'other came , who understood The way of eating , and with his Finger cou'd Point out each sawce , and what was in 't ; while we Eat Fish and Fowl , and such like trumpery ; Though yet , the best in season , as the Plaise , And Turbats Belly which he carv'd me , was . Next , came the blushing Apples , gathered The Moon encreasing ; how they differed From others , he can tell you best ; when thus To Balatro began Vibidius ; We 've fed our selves top full , and now must die Quite unreveng'd , unless we drink him dry ; And calls for bigger Glasses ; at which word Mine Host lookt , as he 'd have sunk underboard ; So went and came his colour , dreaming least T ' have met with such stiff Drinkers , or a jest So home , but rather thought , t' ave seen his wine Deaded their palats , for 't was hardly fine ; But to small purpose , for the Rundlet now Was set a tilt , and round the brimmers go ; Onely some one or two of the prime Guests Made little spoil : — But see ! A second Feast ; A Lamprey stretcht at length , swimming as 't were Amidst a shole of shrimps ; On which , Mine Here Cries note , This Fish was big with young when caught , Or otherwise , 't'ad not been worth a Groat ; Then , for the rare Potage ! But taste it pray ! The Oyl in it right Campania , T' has more ingredients , as Caviare , The best white Pepper , Lesbian vinegar , Italian wine . ( But this , I dare be bold ) Not a drop of 't was less then five years old ; All this was in the boiling ( that once done Pour that of Chios in , or better none : ) I was the first e're boil'd Elicampane , And ' Ringoes in it ; from Curtillus , came Salt-water-craw-fish pickled , better far Then such as brought us from beyond Sea are : While thus mine Host , a piece of Tapstry's fall Rais'd such a dust , it spic'd us , Dish and all ; We thought at first , 't' had been the house , but when We saw there was no danger , chear'd agen ; But he ( poor man ) hung down his head , and cri'd As if his Son had at that instant dy'd ; Nor gave he ov'r , till Nomentanus , thus , Fortune our Foe , thou art a scurvy Puss ! Ah what a cruel Vixen th' art ! ah how Do'st thou delight to mock us here below ! 'T was even as much as Variu's Towel could do To keep his laughter in , when Balatro Gib'd on , And since the course of life is such , We can't ( quoth he ) admire your pains too much ; Is 't fit , to make me handsomely receiv'd , You should disquiet your self , and thus be griev'd , For fear the Bread be burnt , or the Potage Ill season'd , to be sure that every Page Perform his office right : add to all this What other accidents may fall amiss ; As this ' o th' Hangings was , or that a Clown Should stumble in , and run the Cup-board down ; But ( General-like ) Masters of Feasts reveal That temper by cross hits , the good conceal : At which , mine Host , Gods blessing on your heart ! So good a man , and boon Companion th' art ; And with it clapt his Sandals on ; when streight There went a whisper round the beds . Hor. But what ? What laught y' at next ? Fund . Vibidius cries , I think The Bottles broke , that we can get no drink ; And while they laught at what was past , quoth he , Balatro seconding , Mine Host for me ! How lively he returns ! he looks as pert , As if he 'd help our late mischance by art : Which said , his Boyes brought in a Charger fill'd With several things ; a Crane cut up , and grill'd With Salt and Flower ; and fed with with figs ( to chuse ) The well grown Liver of a Milk white Goose , The Shoulders of some Hares , by much the best Of all the body , a broil'd Black-birds breast : Ringdoves , their thighs cut off ; things excellent Had he not run so Damn'd a Lecture on 't ; As the cause why , drawn from their Nature too : But we reveng'd our selves , I 'le tell ye how ; We did not taste one bit , but fled it more , Then if a Witch had shook her Kercher o're . The end of the Second Book of Satyres . EPISTLES . BOOK I. EPISTLE I. By Sir R. F. To MAECENAS . He sayes he dismisses his trifling studies , and embraces those that tend to vertue : yet so as not to swear to any Masters words . And that these studies are such , that there is none but may be better'd by them , if he but lend a patient ear thereunto . In the end he reprehends the depraved judgement of men placing vertue after wealth and honours , and caring more for the things of the Body then the things of the mind . MAecenas mention'd in my Odes , to be Mention'd in all I write ; thou would'st have me ( Enough seen , and applauded on the Stage ) To the old sport ; I have not the same age , Nor the same mind . Upon Alcides post His Armes hung up , ere his won Fame be lost ; The Fencer that is wise , retires . I hear A voice sound daily in my cleansed ear , Free an old Horse , lest he ( derided ) lagg , And , broken-winded , in the last act flag . Therefore Love-songs , and all those toyes adieu , My work is now to search what 's good , what 's true : I lay in precepts , which I straight may draw Out for my use . If thou demand , whose Law , What Guide I follow : Sworn to no mans words , To this and that side I make Tacks and Bords . Now plung'd in billows of the active life , At vertues Anchor ride contemplatise ; With ARISTIPPUS now yield to the stream , More studying to get wealth , then to contemn . As nights are long to them their Mistress fails : To Hirelings , dayes : To curb'd Wards years are snails : So slow and so unpleasant my Time flowes , Till seriously I act , as I propose ; That which alike boots rich and poor , if done , Alike hurts young and old , if let alone . It rests , these rules I to my self apply . Thy eyes will never pierce like Lynceus eye , Scorn not to noint them though if sore they are : Nor , of a Wrastlers strength if thou despair , Neglect to salve the knotted Gout . If more 'S deni'd , 't is something to have gon thus fur . Revenge and Avarice boil in thy heart : There 's words and sounds will cut off a great part Of thy disease . Swell'st thou with love of praise ! There is a Charm too which this Devil layes ; Reading a good Book thrice devoutly over , T●e Envious , Wrathful , Sluggish , Drunkard , Lover : No Beast so wild , but may be tam'd , if he Will unto Precepts listen patiently . 'T is Vertue , to flie Vice : and the first Stair Of Wisdome , to want Folly. With what Care Of Mind , and toil of Body , we avoid Mean wealth , and honours hunt ( Ambition's God! ) Th' unwearied Merchant runs to farthest Ind , Through Fire , through horrid Rocks , Riches to find ▪ What thou thus fondly doat'st on , to despise , Sit , learn , and hear from those that are more wise . Whose Sword hath won him Honour in true Fights , Dusty Olympick Lawrels , that man slights , ( Above those toyes , and in his own self rowld . ) Gold excels silver , Vertue excels Gold. O Romans , Romans , first seek money ; then Vertue . This drops from every Scriv'ners Pen. This is the Doctrine old and young men preach , Carrying a black Box danging at their Breech . If of Sesterces fourty thousand lack Six or seven thousand onely , though you make It up in Virtues , Courage , Eloquence , Faith , and the like ; you 'r a Pletian , Hence . But playing in the streets , the children sing Another song : He that does well's a King. Be this a wall of Brass , to have within No black accuser , harbour no pale sin . Now ( sadly ) which is better , Otho's Law , Or the Bo●es Song , which gives a Regal awe To him do●● well ? A song oft sung of old By manly Curii , and Camilli bold . Counsels he better , that sayes , MONEY GET , If thou canst , well : but if not , get it yet , That tho● some piteous Play may'st neerer see ? Or he that bids thee , Brave , erect , and free , To face proud Fortune ? If ROME'S people now Object , Why plac't on our Bench vot'st not Thou The same with us ? abhorr'st not what we hate ? Affect'st not what we love ? My answer 's , That The slie Fox once to the sick Lion made : The foot-steps that way all , make me afraid , And from thy Den that I perceive no treads . The People , 'T is a Beast with many heads . What , or whom should I follow ? some by-places : Some for rich Widows trade with Beads and Glasses , And feed old men with Gifts , like Fish with bread , That they on them may afterwards be fed . Many grow fat with Usury . But well , Let sev'ral men have sev'ral minds . Now tell , How long will any in the same mind stay ? Baiae ? The World hath not a sweeter Bay , The Rich man cries : when streight the Sea and Lake The joy of their arriving Lord partake . Who , if an ominous Hare ( forsooth ) come thawrt To morrow ; Smiths unto the THE ANUM Cart The Iron work . Has he at home a wife ? No life ( he sayes ) like to the single life . If not , None blest ( he swears ) but married men . What knot can hold this changing Proteus ? Then The poor man ( laugh ) alters his eating room , His Barber , Bed , and Bath : and sick of Rome As much as rich men that keep Barks , to float Upon the water , goes and hires a Boat. If thou meet one , by an ill Barber nocht , Thou laugh'st : If one in Scarlet breeches bocht With Frize , thou laugh'st . But what if my mind fight With it self ? Seek that which it slighted , slight That which it sought ? all Rules of Life confound ? Turn like the Tide , build , raze , change square to round ? Thou think'st me mad in fashion , and laugh'st not , Nor that I need to have a Doctor got , And to be plac't in Bedlam by the Mayre : Though th' rt my Patron , and consum'd with care At the least fingers asking of thy friend That honours thee , and doth on thee depend . In sum , a wise man's onely less then Jove , Rich , free , fair , noble ; last a King , above , The common rate of Kings : But chiefly sound , That is to say , Unless his spleen abound . EPISTLE II. By Sir R. F. To LOLLIO . He sayes Homer in his Poems teaches fuller and better what is honest , then some Philosophers ; bringing arguments to prove the same . That in the Iliad , what are the incentives of war to foolish Kings and Nations is described : and in the Odyssee , by Ulysses example , what vertue and wisdome can do , is shown . Then exhorts to the study of wisdome , as that which will heal the diseases of the mind , which he reckons up . But teaches withal , that men must from their tender age accustome themselves to such like precepts . WHil'st thou ( Great Lollio ) in Rome do'st plead , I , in Praeneste , have all HOMER read : Who , what 's our good , what not ; what brave , what base , Fuller then Crantor , and Chrysippus , sayes . Why I think thus ( unless thou' rt busie ) hear . The Lines , that tell how Greeks and Trojans were Involv'd in a long War for Paris love , Rash Kings and Nations foolishly reprove . Antenors counsel was , to send the Cause Of the War back . PARIS sayes , No : What Laws Compel Kings to be safe ? NESTOR , to peece The difference , runs , betwixt the King of Greece And Tethy's son : One boyling with Love's flame , With anger both . The PRINCES , They 're too blame , And the poor PEOPLE smart for 't . Mischief , Strife , Fraud , rage , and lust in Town , and Leaguer rife . Again what vertue and what wisdome can , He shews us in th' example of the * Man Of Ithaca : who ( Troy in ashes laid ) The Towns and Manners prudently survay'd Of many Lands ; and through the Ocean vast , Returning home with his Companions , past Many sharp Brunts , not to be sunk with stromes Of adverse Chance . Thou know'st the Sirens charms ; And Circe's Cups : which had he greedily And fondly tasted with his Fellows , he Had serv'd a Whorish Dame , and liv'd a Dog On his on vomit , or mire-wallowing Hog . The Suitors of Penelope were meer Puppets , made onely to devour good Cheer : Raskals , who minded nothing but their skin , And , that perfum'd and sleek , to sleep therein Till it was Noon : then thought it brave , to wake With the same Lutes with which they rest did take ▪ Do Thieves sit up all night to kill and steal , And cannot we rise to intend our Weal ? But if in health thou wilt not stir about , Hereafter thou shalt run ( though with the Gout ) To a Physitian : and unless thou knock For Candle , and a Book , with the first Cock : Unless to studies , and to honest things Thou bend thy mind ; with Love's or Envy's stings Thou 'lt lie awake tormented . If a Fly Get in thy Eye , 't is puld out instantly : But if thy Mindes Ey 's hurt , day after day Cure's deferr'd . Set forth , thou' rt half thy way . Dare to be wise : Begin . He that to rule And square his life , prolongs , is like the Fool Who staid to have the River first pass by , Which rowles and rowles to all Eternity . Money is sought , and a rich wife for brood , And a sharp Culter tames the savage Wood. Let him that has enough , desire no more . Not House and Land , nor Gold and Silver Oare , The Body's sickness , or the Mind 's dispel , To rellish wealth , the palat must be well . Who fears , or covets : House to him and Ground , Are Pictures to blind men , Incentives bound About a gou●y Limb , Musick t'an ear Dam'd up with ●ilth . A vessel not sincere Sowres whatsoe're you put into 't . Abstain From pleasures : Pleasure hurts , that 's bought with pain The Cov'tous alwayes want : your pray'rs design To some fixt mark . The envious man doth pine To see another ●at : Envy 's a Rack ; Worse , no Sicilian Tyrant ere did make . Who cannot temper wrath , will wish undone What , in his haste , he may have done to one , To whom he ( possibly ) would be most kind . Anger i● a short madness : Rule thy mind : Which reigns , if it obeys not : 〈…〉 With chaines , restrain it with an Iron bit . The Quiry moulds the Horses tender mouth T' his Riders will. The Beagle from his Youth Is train'd up to the woods , being taught to ball ( A Whelp ) at the Bucks heads nail'd in the Hall. Now Boy , in the white paper of thy breast Write VERTUE : Now suck precepts from the best . A pot , well season'd , holds the Primitive taste A long time after . If thou make no haste , Or spur to over-run me , I am One For none will stay , and will contend with none . The same by Dr. W. WHile you at Rome ( my honour'd Lollius plead , I Homer at Praeneste once more read . Aquinas ne're so well , nor Lumbard taught So fully yet , what 's fair , or fit , or naught . My reason 's this ( if y'have no busie hours ) The story that relates Paris amours , And Greece spent with the tedious Trojan Leager , Shews us how silly Princes are , how eager The giddy Rout. That should be mov'd which seems The cause o' th' war , Antenor wisely deems . But Paris to enjoy his stoln delight , Thinks scorn to yield , Nestor to set things right 'Twixt Agamemnon and Achilles strives ; While Love the One , and both their passion drives . The Officers are mad , and still the smart Lights on the Commons ; still they have the art , What with their mutines , their plots , their sin , To loose as much without , as those within . But then , what vertue and good conduct can Perform you 'l see ; Vlysses is the man : Troy wisely gain'd , he many Cities next Views and their various Lawes , is oft perplext In hazards , stormes himself and his he saves , Not to be drown'd in Fortunes roughest waves . The Sirens charmes you know , and Circe's bowl Which had he quast with 's Drunken-train , his soul H 'had lost , a bruitish servant to the where , A Cur●●'had ●●'had been , or miry Bore . We are that rout , methinks , those Idle Knaves Made to be cramm'd , Penelope's lewd braves , Rising at Noon to wash , and powder hair , And then with noise of Fidlers lull our care . Will you not wake ? Fellons are onely stirring For mischief ; for your safety you 're demuring . You 'l easier now , then with a Dropsie run , Call for a Book and Light before the Sun. Your early thoughts in Vertue unemploy'd , Will be with Love or fretting Envy cloy'd . You 'l move an Eye-soar streight ; and is it sence , To let the Mind be cur'd a Twelve-moneth hence ? Begin : 't is half the work : assume the power To live : expect not for a fairer hower . [ So stayes the Clown till th' hasty Brook be dri'd , But th' everlasting streams still still do glide . ] We gripe for money still , marry for Goods , ( Such Wives are fruitful ) grub and fill our woods . VVho hath enough , why should he wish for more ? Did ever goodly seat , or Farmes , or Store , The sickly Landlord of his Quartan ease , Or of his cares ? the Owner must have health , Who reaps a satisfaction from his wealth . The carking Heart's not eas'd by bags or land . ( No more then Bleared-eye by Titians hand , Or Gout by pultis , or the Ear in pains VVith Rhume , by Ferabosco's melting streins ; ) But what it holds , like musty Bottle spoils . Pleasures ill bargains are , if bought with toils , Desires are endless , till you fix the end , Envy consumes for fatness of a friend ; Envy the worst of Plagues , the Tyrants scourge , Anger let loose , th' unwary mind doth urge To actuate revengeful thoughts , in haste . Which afterward in cold blood you 'l distaste . Anger 's a shorter phrensie . Passion reigns If 't be n't enslav'd , but curb it in with chains . The manag'd Colt is by the Horseman taught T' observe the Riders check : the Whelp is brought ( Since first he trail'd the Buckskin in the Hall ) To hunt abroad the Stag unto his fall . Now ( hopeful Boy ! ) counsels that wholesome are Take early next thy heart : the season'd Iar VVill hold his scent : now run , I 'le but give aim , I 'le neither stop the swift , nor help the lame . EPISTLE III. By A. B. To JULIUS FLORUS . Advice to follow his Studies . IN what part of the would Claudius fights now , ( My Iulius ●l●rus ) I desire to know : Claudius our great Augustus Son in Law , Whether to Thrace his Army 's march'd away . Or whether Icy Heber them detain , If on the Hellespont they still remain ; Or fruitful Asian hills and plains , or what The learned troop of Drusius will be at . These things I mind too , and what eminent wit VVill to posterity dare to transmi● Those mighty things , which done by Caesar are , How wisely he makes peace , how st●utly war : VVhat ex'lent piece will learned Titius write , The Roman admiration and delight ; He that so bravely dares transfer the ●lame Unto us Romans , which from Pindar came , That scorns to dabble in the vulgar lak's , And into the Ocean a brave Voyage makes : How does he do ? what does he say of me ? By his propitious Muses aid will he Translate the Verses writ with Theban●ire ●ire , And tune them smoothly to the Roman Lyre . Or with a tragick buskin does he rage , And with high stately language fill the Stage . And ( prithee ) how does Celsus deal by me ? That most incorrgible Plagiarie , VVho has been warn'd so oft , and must be more , To search for wit and sence from his own store ; And leave off pilferring out of Books that be By others writ , and plac'd i' th' Library . Least all the plunder'd Birds should stock together , And from his gaudy back pluck each his feather ; And he of his stoln colours like the Chough , Stand stript , and make all Spectators laugh . But what art thou about ? with what rare stuff Does thy Muse load her thighs ? th' hast wit enough , And that well pollisht , not absurdly rough . If thou wilt Orator or Lawyer be , Or falst upon delightsome Poetry , Thy wit away the Lawrel justly bears ; But if thou canst shake of those seeds of cares , Where e're Coelestial wisdome draws thou'lt goe , This work , this study , great and man men too Should set upon , if we design to be Dear to our selves , and to Posterity . I prithee send me word , whether or no Thou do'st such kindness to Munatius shew , As betwixt Friends and Brothers ought to be ; Or is your breach since you did disagree So ill pacht up , that it will never close , But every foot to it 's old rancour grows ; Yet whether height of blood , or want of wit , Inflam'd your untam'd spirits , 't is not fit , That your fraternal knot should be unti'd , In what part of the world so e're you ' bide ; I 've a fat Heifer , which I 'le gladly burn In sacrifice for your desir'd return . EPISTLE IV. By A. B. To TIBULLUS . That he should live comfortably , and without Cares . TEll me Tibullus , thou that do'st so far Indulge such trifles as my Satyres are , What shall I tell my friends that thou dost do Now in that Countrey thou' rt retir'd into ? Writing whole Volums : or hast thou thy mind Wholly to th' healthy woods and walks confin'd ? Considering onely to enjoy and doe Things which become a wise and good man too . Thou art no thick-skull'd block-head ; for wise Heav'n To thee an understanding Soul has giv'n . And with a fair Revenue does thee bless , Which thou know'st how t' enjoy as well's possess . What could a Nurse for her deer Child beseech , More then right understanding , and plain speech ? To live belov'd in honour and in health , To eat whole some Diet , and to want no wealth ? When thou' rt tost up and down ' twixt hope and care , Enflam'd with anger and shrunk up with fear : As soon as such a day is overpast , Comfort thy self , that that 's to be the last : When an hour comes that brings thee joy and bliss , If unexpected , Oh! how grateful is ! And when thou' rt minded to laugh heartily At a right Hog of Epicurus Sty Come see me , thou shalt find me plump and fair , I , of this Corps of mine , take special care . EPISTLE V. By Sir R. F. To TORQUATUS . He invites Torquatus to supper , which he sayes will be a frugal one . Exhorts him ( ●idding farewel to Cares , and the desire of Riches ) to give himself to Mirth ; and ( seeming a little light-headed with the joy of Augustus his birth-day ) lashes out into the praises of drinking . Names three things whereof he is studious in his entertainment , and the first of these , Cleanliness . IF thou ( a Guest ) on a ●oyn'd-stool canst sup , And in a small Mess all the broath sup up : I shall at home expect thee by Su●-set . Wine thou shalt drink of middle age , and wet Minturnae's growth hard by . If thou hast ought That better is , command it to be brought , And treat thy Host. Already the Logs burn , And the scowr'd Pans shine , on thy score . Adjourn Light hopes , and riches strife , and Mosco's Cause To morrow ; CAESAR'S birth-day gives a Pawse To toil , and leave to sleep . Without offence We may spin out with chatting Eloquence The Summer night . What do I care for wealth , Unless to use ? 'T is a mad kind of stealth , For one to rob himself , t' enrich his Heir . I 'le quaffe , and sprinkle Roses , and not care Though I 'm thought wild for this . The rare effects Of Wine ! Love , hid in Blushes , it detects : Hopes it ensures : it makes the Coward fight : Learned the Ignorant : the sad heart light . Whom have not flowing Cups eloquent made ? Whose debts ( though nere so great ) have they not paid ? I am the Man : and my charge I will make it , ( Willing , and not unfit to undertake it ) To have the Forms clean rubb'd : the Napkins such As may not curl our Noses up to touch : That in the Platters thou maist see thy face : That no false brother carry from the place Ought that is spoke : that all of a Suit be , Septimius ? Brutus ? Sure Cards , these . Let 's see : Then ( if not taken up with better chear , Or by his Girl ) Sabinus shall be here . Each Guest may bring his shadow . But the sweat Will be offensive , if too close we set . Thy number , write : and ( all things laid aside ) Thy Clients bobb'd , out at the back door glide . EPISTLE VI. By A. B. To NUMICIUS . Not to trouble himself with worldly matters . NUmicius , to admire nothing at all , VVhich in this world to Mortals may befal , Is one , if not the onely thing , which can Make and continue thee a happy man. Philosophy renders some men so bold , They 're not affrighted when they do behold The Sun and Stars so variously appear , In all the different seasons of the year : Or in unusual motions , why should'st thou Be more transported with the things below ? Why should'st thou mind the treasures of the earth , Those gums to which Arabia gives birth ? Or Silver , Gold , and pretious jems , with which Both Indies do the rest o' th' world enrich ? Pleasure or Honour , or those gifts which come From the self-ended Citizens of Rome , With what a mind and look should these things be Possess'd , or but reflected on by thee ? He that the contrary to this does fear , His passions like th' Admirers passions are . A mind disturb'd , which way soe're it come , On one side and the other is trouble some ; And sudden apprehension of all things , To those that fear or love much terror brings . What is it to the purpose , whether we Desire and fear , and sad or joyful be ? Who when a thing befals him , bad or good , If more , or other , then he thought it wou'd , Do'st presently look blank upon 't , and grow A●tonish'd both in mind and body too . The wiseman is an Ass , the just man grows Unjust , if they would be too virtuous . Go now , and gaze upon thy massie plate , Thy Brass and Marble pillars made for State ; Thy costly Hangings of rich Tapestry , And costly garments of the Tyrian Die , And hug thy self when thou shalt thousands see , While thou art making speeches , gaze on thee . Rise early in the morn , away to th' Hall , And till 't is late at night there tug and bawl , Least Mutius grow rich before thee , he Who is by birth inferiour much to thee . Shall such a sneaking fellow , as he is Be thy example , when thou should'st be his ? What ere is hidden time will bring to light , And that will vanish , which now shines so bright . Nay thou , who on th' Exchange and at the Hall Art so well known , and honour'd too by all , Forsaking all these things , must go at last Where our Fore-fathers are , whose dayes are past . If thou do'st any sharp disease indure , Use all thy Wits to get a present cure . Wilt thou live well ? who would not ? Virtue is The onely way to gain true happiness . And therefore all thy vanities thrown by , To it couragiously thy mind apply . Make that thy business , and do not suppose That to talk much is to be virtuous . That words together put will vertue prove , As Trees together put will make a Grove . But if wealth be thy aim , pursue thy Trade , Take heed no other Merchant do invade Those Ports thou traffick'st to , and take from thee Thy businesses which now so gainful be . Heap up a thousand talents , then one more , Add a third thousand , and then make'●m four . This mighty Monarch Money to us sends , Fair Wives , great Portions , Reputation , Friends , This makes us Noble , though our Birth be base , And giv●s our persons comesiness and grace ; That man who has his pockets lin'd with Chink , All men ingenious and handsome think . The Cappadocian King , though he had store Of Slaves , was in 's Exchequer very poor : But be not thou like that unhappy King , T' aboundin one , and not in every thing . Lucullus was desir'd ( the story sayes ) To lend a hundred Cloaks for some new Playes . Where should I have so many Cloaks ( said he ) But yet I 'le look , and what I have send t' ye . A little after this he sends them word , That he 5000 Garments could afford , Which in his house lay by unknown to him , And that they might have part or all of them , That house is much unfurnish'd where there are Not many things superfluous , and to spare . Goods which the Owner knows not of , but may Be unconcern'd when they are stoln away . If ( as Mimnermus said ) nothing can be Delightsome without love and jollity : Then live in love and jollitie ; farewel : If thou of any better Rules can'st tell Then these , impart them candidlie ; If not , I pray , make use of these with me . The same by J. W. Esq IF then , wealth onely makes , and keeps man blest , Make that thy first of works , and leave it last : If publick Honour ; buy some progging Slave , May point thee who goes by , what names they have ; Pluck thee by th' sleeve , and tell thee such or such Are worth your hand , you can't reach 't out too much : His interest lies here , and t'others there , Make 'um your friends , and you are Consul clear , Thus putting on a pleasant face to all , As their years are , this son , him father call ▪ If eating be the business , let 's away In order to 't ; we stay too long , ' ti● day ▪ Rouse our dull Servants , make one take the Nets , Another hunting Poles , a third the Spear , And so returning through the gaping Fare , Lead a tall Mule home laden with a Boare , Not kill'd ( as they suppose ) but bought before . Let 's bathe on a full stomack , as forgot Whither convenient for our health , or not . Right Cerites , lawless ; very Greeks that think Their Countrey far of less esteem then drink . If ( as Mimnermus ) nothing's to be done That has not Love , and Pleasure in 't , Let one Live , and farewel ; And if yo 've better chear , Impart it pray , if not , be merry hear . EPISTLE VII . By A. B. To MAECENAS . That Liberty is more acceptable to a friend , than costly Entertainm●nt . I Prom●s'd when I left you last , 't is true , Within five dayes to come again to you Into the Country , and you look'd for me All August long , to come accordinglie ; Yet I have fail'd you : now I 'll tell you why ; Not that I slight such worthy company ; But your hard drinking kills me . I profess , You 'ld love me better , if you 'ld love me less . If you 'ld have me live long and heathfully , Give me now I am well that liberty Which were I sick , I 'm sure you would allow , For I fear s●ckness , though I 'm healthy now . In these hot Dog-dayes , when each little thing That stirs the blood , does mortal sickness bring . Autum the Sextons harvest , when we meet Mourners and funerals in every street : When Women send their Children out , for fear They should be ●●lled by the City air . The Lawyers venting mercenary breath , Brings Feavers and ( a happy riddance ! ) death . But when the Winter comes , and heav'n bestrews The shabbed ground with frequent frosts and snows ; Then comes your Poet to the waters side , Where he t' ( ndulge his body will abide , And study very little . And ( if you Will give me leave ) I 'll wait upon you too When gentle Zephr ' blows ( as Poets sing ) And the first Swallow ushers in the Spring . Your favours do inrich me , not like those Which the Calabrian Inn-keeper bestows ; Who with crabb'd choaky Pears his guests did treat , And rudely over-pressed them to eat . Eat ( if you love me ) all these Pears , sayes he ; No ( sayes the guest ) I thank you heartily , I 've eat enough already . Put up , pray , Those you can't eat , and carry them away , ( Sayes the free Host : ) No ( replyes the Gue●t ) You are too liberal to me in your Feast . Nay sill your pockets , ( quoth the Host ) these toyes Are grateful presents to your Girls and Boyes . I 'm as much oblig'dt ' you ( sayes his friend ) As if with Pears you me home loaden send . Do as you please ( sayes the Host ) but what you leave , I 've Hogs which will be ready to receive . Thus Prodigals and fools are free of that Which these do vainlyst ght , those vainly hate ▪ Such roots ingratitude do alwayes bear , And will yield only that from year to year ; Whilest he that is both good and wise declares , That he for worthy men himself prepares ; And can discern good men from bad , as well As he can silver from brass-money tell . 'T is my design to answer th' expectation Of all the worthy persons in the Nation . But if you 'ld have me never leave you more , My former strength of body , pray restore ; My black curl'd locks , which on my forehead grew , And my bewitching nimble tongue renew . Revive my witty merry sprightly vain , And in my Cups my amorous flames again ; Oh! make me weep , or run stark mad , nay die For Love , if my coy Mistress should denie . A little Fox with hunger slender worn , Crept through a crevice in t ' a hutch of Corn , And , having fill'd his paunch , strugled in vain , With his great belly , to get out again : A Weezle spy'd him tugging at the chinck , Gave him this good advice , Friend if you think E're to creep out , you must become as thin As you were when you did at first creep in . I will apply this Fable , and restore To you what e're you gave me heretofore I love not to be cram'd , for I despise Those drowsie Banquets which the Vu'gar prize : Nor for Arabias wealth would I destroy . That ease and freedom which I now enjoy . You 've often prais'd me for my modestie , And I 've declar'd that you have been to me A Father , nav a King , both to your face , Nor said I less when you were not in place ▪ Try me , if I can cheerfully resigne , All those rich things your bounty has made mine . 'T was not ill said by young Telemachus , Son of Ulysses , who did answer thus To Menelaus , profering to bestow A horse upon him , Sir , I do not know What to do with your Horse ; for Ithaca Is an ill place to keep a Horse in ; Hey And Grass are very scarce there , and there 's no Plains or Champaigne for Horse to gallop through : Therefore pray keep your Presents , for they be Fitter by half for you , than th' are for me . Mean things become mean men . I now do not Admire Romes stately Palaces a jot , But quiet Tybur and Tarentum be My aime to live in for my privacie . Philippus , a great Lawyer , when he came From pleading home at night , grown old and lame , Complain'd much , that the Court too distant was From the Carina's that's his dwelling place . The story sayes , that he by chance espy'd One trim'd , that did i' th' Barbers shop abide , Paring his nailes with 's Penknife ; calls to 's boy ( A Lad that was ingenious to obey And quick t' observe his Masters minde ) sayes he , Demetrius , Go , ask and bring word to me What yonder idle person is , and who , And what Patron he is related to ; Where he was born , and what estate he has , What his name is , and who his Father was . The Boy went , ask'd , and told him presentlie , Vultejus Mena was his name , and he A Cryer by profession , of a small Estate , but he giv'n to no vice at all ; Sometimes he up and down , did trade to get Money , then stay'd at home and liv'd on it . Play'd with his little Children when alone , And in a small house liv'd , but 't was his own ; Follow'd his business , but his leisure dayes Spend at th' Artillery ground , or seeing Playes . From his own mouth ( sayes he ) I long to know Whether all this which thou relat'st be so . Therefore go tell him that his companie I much desire , pray him come sup with me . The Lad goes , comes , and tells his Master , Sir , I told the Gentleman , but he 'll not stir , Neither indeed would be believe that you Invited him , or what I said was true . But wondring with himself , 't is strange ! sayes he , What! an old , rich , great Lawyer , and so free ! But he was civil ; and put off his bat , Thank'd you , as who should say — here 's this for that . Did he deny me ! — Yes perversly too , And slights , or else stands much in fear of you . Next day the Lawyer in his sight appears , As he sold Fripery to the Wastcoateers : Gives him the first salute ; surpris'd hereat , The bashful Merchant lowly doffs his hat , And goes t' excuse the meaness of his trade , Complains that he thereto a slave was made . Begs Philips pardon , that he did not come To Supper , when he was invited home ; But that which did seem to afflict him worst , Was that he did not visit Philip first . Came ( sayes Philippus ) you 've no other way For pardon , but to sup with me to day . I 'll wait upon you , noble Sir , sayes he . The Laywer tells him , that the hour was thre● ▪ Bids him i' th' interim minde his calling so , That he by trading might the richer grow . He talk'd at Supper what e're came in 's way , Said what he should , and what he should not say : At length he takes his leave , and hies him home To Bed. Next morning he does thither come , And is observ'd so often there to wait , And nibble at the Lawyers dangerous bait , That he became his Clyent , after that He every day at Philips table ●ate , And on the Holy-dayes , when there were no Pleadings , to Philips Country-house they go In his brave gilded Coach together , where Vulteius prais'd the Sabin fields and air : Which when the Lawyer found , it pleas'd him much : Sayes he , My bodies constitution 's such , That hither I 'll for good and all retire , And live at ease here ; only I desire The company of such a friend as you , That is so prudent and so cheerful too . And if you 'll purchase something in this Town , One hundred pieces I will give you down , And I will lend another hundred t' ye , Meerly t' enjoy your pleasant companie . So ( not to make more words on 't then I ought ) A small Farm there , at length the Merchant bought . Now he that was so spruce a Citizen , Became one of the herd of Countrymen . Of Sheep and Oxen's all his talk , and how To plant young Trees , and go to Cart and Plough . To all his Studies now he puts an end , And to grow rich his minde does wholly bend . But when his Kids were stolen , and Sheep did rot , His Oxen kill'd at plow , his fields did not Bring forth according to his expectation , Grieved with these heavy losses , in a passion , He takes his Horse at Midnight , and away To the Lawyers house , whom when the Lawyer saw With such a rustick discontented look , You look ( sayes he ) my friend , as if you took Overmuch care and pains . Truly , sayes he , My honour'd Patron , if you would call me By any name that fits me , let it be A miserable wretch ; and I intreat You , by the God's and all that 's good or great , By all that 's dear to you , that you 'll restore Me to that life which I enjoy'd before . As soon as Philip had considered , what Difference there was 'twixt what he would be at , And what he so declin'd , Let him ( sayes he ) Return to what he has been formerlie . What fits us best is best ; 't is good and meet , To make our shooes according to our feet . The same by S. W. I Promis'd but five dayes from you to stay , And now all August I have been away ; But ( dear Mocenas ) if you 'd have me live Lusty and strong , that freedom to me give , ( Now I fear sickness ) as you would allow , And bid me take , if I indeed were so . Excuse your friend till sickly Autumn's o're , Autumn that is in funerals never poor ; When the fond Mother for her child looks pale , And a full term , and business , croud's the Hall ; Where , whilst the drudg Sollicitour attends , A Feaver hastes his will , and Lawsuit ends . But if sharp Winter cloaths the fields with snow , Your Poet down to your Country house will go , And living there obscure , himself will spare , And only for his look and health take care : With hopes to visit you against at Spring . And the first tidings of it with him bring . Not as my Country Host his Pears do's force , Have you return'd me full ; Our fare's but course , Yet feed ( he saies ) I thank you I 've done well , Do better then , these fruits we never sell : Your Servant Sir. Nay those you shall take home , You will more welcome to your children come . I am oblig'd , as much as if I did Take what you please ; but I should thus be rid Of that , with which I must to th' Hogs be kind , Who strait shall have , what ere you leave behind . So Fools and Prodigals no gifts bestow But what they hate , or what they do not know . Yet this ranck soyl a thankless crop does bear , Nor will it better yield another year ; But a wise man , though he the difference knows 'Twixt gold , and trifles , when he these bestows , For worthy hands , says he , they were design'd ; Nor me less worthy , say I , shall you find . But if I must alwayes with you remain , Let me my youth and beauty have again ; My lusty back , smooth forehead , and blach hairs Now all impair'd , or chang'd , by age and ●ares ; Return my mirth and ralliary again , And Cynare , whose loss I grieve in vain . Once on a time , through a very little hole , A hungry Fox into an Hen-roost stole , And glutted there with Poultry , all about , But all in vain , sought where he might get out : The hole too strait was grown , his paunch too wide , Which , at a distance , when the Weezel spy'd , Sir Reynard said she , you must be as thin If you 'd get out as when you first came in . Urge me but thus , I 'll quickly all resign , Yet not so foolish am I to repine , And a Swains sleep , before full tables choose , Though for both Indies I 'de no freedom loose . My Modesty you heretofore have prais'd , Nor have I less your worth with titles rais'd ; Father and King were the worst names I gave , My self in every place I stil'd your slave ; And judge you now if I can well restore , Or unsay what so oft has been said ore . Telemachus was wiser to refuse Great Menelaus proffer ; I 've no use For Coursers , said he , nor have wee good feed , Or running with us , for so high a breed . Rather , great Atreus Son , thy gifts retain , And let them , where they better suit , remain . A little does a little man content , Give me no Palace , but a Tenement ; A Cortage at Tarentum will suffice , And Rome compar'd with Tybur I 'll despise . Philip the famous Oratour , one day , As from the Bart he came , and thought the way To him grown old , and wearied with the throng , Thence to his Chamber , ne're seem'd half so long , Seeing ●'th ' shade , close by a Barbers door , One newly trim'd , that with light knife ran 'ore Each single nail , and pair'd it with such grace As if he studied to out trim his face ; Go ( said he to his boy ) inquire his Name , What Father , whose Retainer , whence he came ? He 's call'd Vul●eius Mena ( sayes the boy ) A Cryer , that does little wealth enjoy , But a good Name , ( that to th' whole World is known ; ) Who sometimes ; business has , and sometimes none . Iust enough for a livelyhood , which yet He does as freely spend ( he sayes ) as get . Of mean acquaintance , but a house of 's own , And when he 's either tir'd , or work quite done , Can to a play or wrestling wager go ; All this I from himself desire to know , ( Replies the Sage ) bid him to supper come This night , whilst I before walk softly home . How now ! An 't please you Sir he 'd scarce believe I came from you , and wondring did receive The Invitation . What else ? And by me Returns his thanks . Deny'd then must I be ! I think so , and he you does scorn , or fear , Or else invited thus , would scarce forbear . Philip next morning , as to Court he went , Menas Good m●rrow did with his prevent , And greeting gave the day , and ease from cares , As to the People he expos'd his Wares . Vulteius to excuse himself began , His pedling trade , and mercenary Chain , That his commands he had not sought at home , Nor was so happy as to see him come ; All this I 'll pardon ( said the Counseller ) But on condition you no more defer Your coming to me , whom I now invite The second time , to sup with me this night . You shall command me , ( Mena said ; ) Let three ( Philip return'd ) the latest minute be ; Till then your business mind — But Suppers come ; Where when they 'd freely talkt , my Guest goes home . Yet like a Fish that nibles at the past So long , that by the gills he 's caught at last ; By often visits he become more bold , Turns Client , and unbid a room does hold At every Feast : By Philip is desir'd , To go where i' th Vacation he retir'd : And out they ride . Mena commends the air , And Sabine fields , with fruits all gay and fair . Which Philip hears and smiles ; but mirth and ease , What may himself , or new retainer please , Being his care , he gives him fifty pounds , And lends him fifty more to buy such grounds ; Which done ( for I 'll make all the haste I can ) My City Cryer , is turn'd Country-man : Prunes his grown Vines , can stoutly hold the Plough , Clime a tall Elm , and trim its highest bough ; Dies at his labour , and with care grows old , And equals nothing to fat land , but Gold ▪ But when his Goats by Thieves , Sheep fell by th' rot , The field his hopes and charge answer'd not , His Cattle dy'd , his Ox at plow was slain , Himself no longer able to restrain , At midnight up he gets , and in a rage Rode post to Philips house , his furthest stage ; Whom as the Lawyer saw all rough with hair , And never shav'd since they together were ; Vulteius , said he , you too thoughtful look , As if more care than what is fit , you took . Undone good P●tron , said he , I 'me undone , And by the name of Wretch must hence be known . By your self therefore , and the God you adore , Your own good Genius , I your help implore , That but this once you 'd ease me of my pain , And turn me to my former life again . He whose past sta●e the present does excell , Let him take quickly up if he 'd do well . Return in time ; For reason this requires That a mans own foot measure his desires . EPISTLE VIII . By A. B. To CELSUS . That preferment should not transport him . GO when I bid thee Muse , and wish my friend Celsus , who now on Claudius does attend As Secretary and companion too ; Much health bid him , Live merrily , and do His business prudently , and if he doubt What kind of business I am now about ; Tell him I promise ex'lent things , but I At present live not well , nor pleasantly . Not 'cause the Hail-storm broke our Vines , nor yet Because our Olives by th' immoderate hear Are shrivel'd up , nor cause my Flocks that lie In Fields remote are sick , but because I Am sick in mind more then in body ; for I can't endure to hear what men say , nor To learn a Physical receipt that may My great distemper cure or but allay . My learn'd and true Physitian me offends , And I do peevishly rail at my friends , Because they offer to deliver me Out of my much bewitching Lethargie ; Those things which hurt me most I most pu●sue , And what is good for me I still eschew . At Rome I Tyber love , and when I 'm come To Tyber , I am mad to be at Rome . After all this ask how he does , and know How he proceeds , and how all matters goe . Ask him how he does Claudius please , and how He and the Regiment do Cotton now : If he sayes , Well ; tell him , I 'm glad to hear That happy News : then whisper in his ear This truth ; In this promotion , Celsus , we As thou demean'st thy self , will value thee . EPISTLE IX . By A. B. To CLAUDIUS NERO. On behalf of a Friend . GReat Sir , Septimius understands how vast That Princely love is which on me you cast , And by entreaties hath prevail'd with me , That I should praise him and present him t' ye As a man worthy every where to be Receiv'd into your breast and Family . Who onely worthy men and things elect , He thinks I 'm honour'd with that great respect To be your bosome friend , he knows my power Better then I my self , for till this hour I never tri'd it on you , and I us'd What arguments I could to be excus'd ▪ But fearing least I might too far disown Those Princely favours you on me have thrown , And so be thought such a dissembling Elf , That 's onely beneficial to my self , Therefore that I may not be thought to be Ingrateful ( that 's the worst of infamy ) I 've put on suburb-brows , and if you can Once pardon a necessiated man , Who waves his modesty to serve his friend , Accept this person which I recommend Into your Houshold , and take this from me , A stouter ▪ better man you ne're did see . EPISTLE X. By Sir R. F. To FUSCUS ARISTIUS . He praises to Fuscus Aristius ( a lover of the City ) the Countrey life , with which himself was delighted , and recounts the several Commodities thereof . Withal deters him from ambition , which accompanies the City life , not that of the Countrey . TO Fuscus , the Towns Lover , health I wish , That love the Countrey : diffring much in this , In all else twins . Both like , dislike , what either : A pair of old Doves bred of Eggs together . Thou keep'st the Nest : I love to flie abroad , To haunt sweet Brooks , the mossie Grott , and Wood. What would'st thou have ? I live and reign , when I Have shun'd those things thou praisest to the sky . And like a Comfit-makers Prentice fled , Clo●'d with Pres●rves , am better pleas'd with bread . If one would live with all conveniency's , And first in building the foundation is , Where doth frank Nature thrust out such a breast As in the Countrey , with all good things blest ? Where is it that the Winter's warmer ? where To cool the Dog-stars byte , is fresher air , And the fierce Lyon's rage , when all his heat Th' exalted Sun pours in , to make it great ? Where does less envious care our sleeps dispell ? Do Floores of Parian Marble look or smell Like Flowers ? The water when it heaves to burst The leaden Pipes with which in streets 't is forc't , Runs it so pure , as when melodiously It quavers in the Rivers Falls ? Ev'n Hee Affects t' have Trees , who in the City builds , And that his house should but survey the fields . Drive Nature with a Pitch-fork ou● , shee 'l back Victorious ( spite of State ) by'a secret Track . He that wants skill right Scarlet to descry From counterfeit , will not more certainly Be cosend in a Shop , then he shall be That knows not true from false Felicitie . Him , whom a prosp'rous State did too much please ; Chang'd , it will shake . What thou admir'dst with ease Thou canst not quit . Fly great things : In a Cell , Kings , and the Friends of Kings , thy Life may excell . The Stagg superior both in Arms and Force , Out of the Common-Pasture drove the Horse : Untill the vanquish'd after a long fight Pray'd Man's assistance , and receiv'd the Bit : But , having beat the Victor , could not now Bit from his Mouth , nor Man from his Back throw ▪ So He that fearing Poverty , hath sold Away his Liberty ; better then Gold , Shall carry a proud Lord upon his back , And serve for ever , 'cause he could not lack . Who fits not his Minde to it , his Estate If little , pinches him : throws him , if great . Wisely ( ARISTIUS ) thou wilt like thy lot , And wilt chide Me , if mine content Me not : If more I cark for , or if more I crave . Who ere has Money , either 't is his Slave , Or 't is his Master , as when two men tug At a Ropes ends : W' are dragg'd unless we drag . Giv'n in Vacation , at that * Goddess Cell : Save that I have not Thee , perfectly well . EPISTLE XI . By S. W. To BULLATIUS . That Felicity consists not in any Place or Condition , but in tranquillity of the Minde . NOw you have Lesbos , and fair Samos seen , At Sardis , Colopbon , and Smyrna been , What thinkest Thou , good Bullatius , is all true That Fame reports ? ( for she knows less then you . ) Do they exceed the Common voyce , or are Their fields , with ours , unworthy to compare ? Is not our Tyber better then their Seas ? Or which o' th' Asiatique Cities please ? Does Lebedus , because you rested there , And found that ease , you else sought every where ? 'T is a poor place indeed to Gabil , Yet there I 'de choose to live retir'd and die ; ( Forgetting all , of all my friends forgot ; Whom though they pity , yet they envy not . Where from the shoar I might behold the Main , And rate my pleasures , by anothers pain . Yet neither he , that does from Capua come , Wet to the skin , and on his way to Rome , Would take an Inn for home , or think a fire Or Stove , though numb'd with cold , his chief desire ; And seek no further , but his kind starrs bless , As one arriv'd to perfect happiness : Nor for a storm should you for swear the Sea , And sell your Barque , that you reveng'd might be . To one that 's safe Mit ' lene and Rhodes are fair , But as Furs in Summer , Silks in Winter are : As Tyber is to swim in when it snows , And as a fire i' th' midst of August showes . While Fortune smiles , let Rhodes be pray●'d at Rome , Chios and Samos fayrest are at home . Use the sweet Intervals the Gods allow , Nor tell next year put off what may be Now. That every place alike may seem to thee , And thou alike content in any bee . If prudent Reason sets no bound to Care , Nor can those Lands that bounds to th● Ocean are ; And he that reaches them too late , shall find The place is only chang'd , and not his Mind . And yet we ride , and fail , and journies make , Or happiness to find , or to o'retake ; That which thou seek'st is ready at thy hand , And Ulubrae may be the happy land ; For ( friend ) an even Soul can make it there , And what we no where find , have every where . EPISTLE XII . By A. B. To ICCIUS . That the use of Estates makes men rich . WHy dost thou murmur Iccius , and repine , Because Agrippa's wealth is more then thine ? Thou art his Steward if thou rightly use Those fruits which his Scicilian lands produce ; Iove himself can't give thee a greater store , Therefore leave off complaining that thou' rt poor : For he 's not poor , whom fortune does produce , What e're is necessary for his use . If thou canst get good Diet , and warm Cloaths , Caesars Estate can't give thee more than those . If at a Table stor'd with various meat , Thou canst abstemiously a Sallad eat , Thou by that virtue wilt as wealthy bee , As if kind fortune had showr'd Gold on thee ; For thy firm soul will above money soar , And thou wilt think all things inferiour To amiable Virtue , which alone , To good men , is guide and companion . Men wondred at Democritus when hee Sate in his Study , and his Hoggs did see , Root up his Corn field , and his Garden spoil , And he sate studying unconcern'd the while ; His thoughts were set on higher things , and thou Wilt be as great an admirat●on now , Who in this scabbed avaritious time , Mind'st nothing mean , but aim'st at things sublime . What bounds the Sea , what makes it ebb and flow , What makes the year round so exactly go ; Whether the Planets move by their own power , Or do obey some cause Superiour ; From whence th' Eclipses of the Moon proceed ; And how she 's from her obscuration fre'd . What means the jarring sympathy of things ; And whether good or evil from it springs ; Whether Empedocles deserve our faith , Or that be righter which the Stoick saith . But whether thou delightest to feed on F●sh ▪ Or only Leeks and Onions be thy dish ; Receive my good friend Grosphus courteously ▪ And grant him freely what he asks of thee ; For he has so much modesty and wit , That he 'l ask nothing but what 's just and fit ; Friendship doth come to a low market when Any thing 's lack'd by good and worthy men . But 'cause perhaps you have a minde to know ▪ How all affairs here in our City go ; Agrippa's valour has Cantabria won , Th' Armenians too by Nero are o'rethrown . Phraates does great Caesars lawes obey , And on his knees submit to th' Roman sway : Besides this seasonable harvest yields A plenteous crop in our Italian fields . EPISTLE XIII . By A. B. To VINIUS ASELLA . Instructions for presenting his Poems to Augustus . AS I have oftentimes , and long since too , Instructed thee ; when thou to Court dost go , ( Dear Vinius ) I 'ld have my Poems be Presented to Augustus seal'd by thee , When he is well , and of a cheerfull mind , And when to road them he is well inclin'd . Do not by much ●fficiousness offend , Or hurt me , whom thou studi'st to befriend : Nor yet make men my Poems to conte●n , Because thou importunely proferst them . But if the Volume of my book should bee So cumbersome , that it should weary thee , I 'd rather thou should'st throw them quite away ▪ Than on thy soulders them like Dorsers lay : And so make thy paternal name , becaus 'T is Asina , to signifie an Ass : And make thy self a Tabletalk , and be Ridiculous to all Posteritie . Set all thy strength to ' ●●pass through thick and th●n ▪ And when th' hast had thy will , and entred in To Caesar's presence , use the matters so , That prying Courtiers may not come to know ▪ That thou a load of Poetry dost bear Under thy arm , as if a Rustick were Carrying a Lamb , or drunken Pyrrbia Carryed the stoln Quills of Yarn away : Or as a Tenant when he gets a Rowse , Carries his Cap and Shooes from 's Landlord's house . Nor tell the Vulgar that thou sweat'st to bear Lines which will please both Caesars eye and ear . And though th' art courted ne're so much , press on , Shew no body a line . — Well get thee gon , Farewell , be carefull that thou err'st not , and If thou e're lov'st me , break not my command . EPISTLE XIV . By R. T. To his BAILIFF . The difference betwixt a Country life , and a City life . THou Bailiff of my Woods and pleasant Field , Which serv'd five dwellers once , and us'd to yield Five Burgesses for Baria , by thee now Conte●●● , let 's try who weeds best , I or you ; Whither my mind or ground be better till'd , Which is the better , Horrace or his field . Though L●mias pitty mourning th' hasty fate Of 's Brother ravisht from him do create Occasion for my longer stay at Rome Then ordinary , yet my heart 's at home . That strives to break all stops , for I prefer The Countrey , thou the Town as happier . Who likes anothers fortune , hates his own , He is a fool that does accuse the Town Or Country either , and does falsly find Fault with the place , when all the fault 's in 's mind , Which never fly's its self ; when you were slave To th' Baths , and liv'd in Town , you us'd to crave With silent Prayer to be remov'd to go To be a Country man ; now being so You cover Baths , Playes , and the Town ; you see I 'me constant , and when business urges me ( Which I of all things hate ) to Rome I part From thence , sad and afflicted at my heart . Our fancies don't agree : what you despise He likes that is of my mind , and decryes What you commend ; to such a strange degree Are odds at present brought 'twixt thee and mee . A jolly Whore , and Unctious Sack do's move ( I see it well ) thee to this earnest love Of th' City , and because my ground yields quicker Pepper and Frankincence , then Grapes for liquor : Besides another grievance is , you lack A Neighouring Tavern to afford you Sack. And a shee Minstrel that you to her sound May dance or'e th' prest Earth some blundring round ; And yet thou till'st the ground , which lately Spades Ne're touch't , & feed'st with care th' unharness'd Iades . By thee the River too in time of need By Damns is taught to spare the Sunny Mead : Now , go to , and what thus divide ▪ us hear ; Me who soft Robes and Powder'd hair did wear , And us'd with sparkling Cinera to sport Freely , and Drink till midnight ; now a short Supper contents , and sleep upon the Grass On a Bank-side , by which some stream does pass ; Nor do I yet believe it is a shame Once to be wild , but never to be tame . No body there does look askew with spite , Or with black hatred poison or back-bite Me when I thrive , none envy 's there my gains , My Neighbours joy with me when I take pains ; The City fare with Servants you do long To eat , and crowd your self into the throng . The suttle slave that wait's , and 's call'd all hours , Envy 's thy use of Cattle , Wood and Flowers : The Ox would be for th' Saddle , th' Horse for Plow , Let all ( say I ) use well the Art they know . EPISTLE XV. By R. N. Gent. To VALA . The pleasure of Travelling . PRethee , good Vala , write , what kind of Aire , What sort of Men , and what their Manners are At Velia and Salernus ; For I see The Bajan Waters are not good for me ; And so Antonius tells me . And 't is this That makes the Bajans take it much amiss , That in the Winter I cold Waters use : Truly their My●●le Groves thus to refuse , Thus slight their Baths , so talk't of all about , For being rare in curing of the Gowt , Must make them grumble . But these men , that will Cure a weak Stomach , or a Head that 's ill , With colder Springs , to Gabii must repair Where colder Waters are , and colder Air. But I 'm advis'd to change , and when my Horse Goes towards Baja , I divert his Course , And tell him ' t●s not thither I must go ; And then inrag'd I curb him in , and so Make him to understand me ; For , in truth , A Horses Ears are in his bridled Mouth . I prethee write which of the two excells In Bread ; and whether I out of the Wells , Or out of Cisterns must the Waters take . I come not for their Wines , but Waters sake , In th' Country any Dyet doth me please ; I love good Wine , when I go neer the Seas . Wine , that will drive away all Cares , and will With swelling Hopes through Veins and Soul distill . Wine that will make my Tongue with words to flow , And make me Brisk when to a Girl I go . Write me which place most Hares and Bores doth feed , Whose Rivers greatest store of Fishes breed ; That thence I may both Fat and Fair come home ; For thee to write , and me believe's all one . When Maevius had his Patrimony spent Profusely , then to live by 's Wits he meant , And turn'd a Iester , roving to and fro , And made no difference 'twixt Friend or Foe , But Jeer'd at all . One that would swallow more Down his wide Throat , then would a Common-Shore , What e're he got went down his Guts , and when He mist of better Fare abroad , he then Would feed on Guts and Garbage , and eat up Of that more then three Rav'nous Bears would sup . When pincht with want hee 'ld say each Gluttons Gut Was to be sear'd ; But when hee 'd got a glut Of better fare , and all consum'd , hee 'ld say No wonder if Estates are spent this way , For there 's no pleasure underneath the Sun Like Feasting , and a Belly like a Tun. So I in want commend the thrifty Fare , And eat such Victuals as the coursest are . But when I light on better food , I then Say those are wise , and those the happy men That live in plenty where they can behold Houses and Lordships purchas'd with their Gold. EPISTLE XVI . By W. T. To QUINTIUS . A Description of a Good Man. ASk me no more my Quintius , whether I Can in my Farm , grow rich by Husbandry , By the retayl of Apples , Oyl , or Wine : View but the Model of what I call mine . An intire Mountain , sever'd by a low Vale , yet it is not altogether so Obscure , but that the Morning Sun looks on , The Evening airs it , e're he will be gon . You can't but praise the Climate : Come what though My Quicksets are not Blackberry , or Sloe , The Kernel does as well , if I can please , And fat my stock with Acorns , take mine ease Under a shady Oak , you must confess To this , Tarentum is a Wilderness . Water'd besides with such a Spring , it may Adopt a River , Hebrus it self , nay Thrace cannot equal it , approv'd for all Head maladies : 't is a Purge natural . In Autumn 't is this sweet retirement pleases , This keeps me proof ( believ 't ) against Diseases . Rome says , yes boasts , you only happy are : All is not true men say : Indeed I fear They know more than your self does : He that woo'd Be so , must be not only wise , but good . If at your Dinner you should have a sit Of a chill Ague shake you , would you ●it ( Because your Guests say you look well ) and eat Until you can no longer hold your meat ? He is a modest Fool that won't disclose He has a clap before it reach his Nose . If one should tell you of a Victory You lately had on Land , others by Sea , Buzzing into your ears , that it is known To Iove , you sought Rome safety , not you own : You know this is the great Augustus's Due . If when they call you Virtuosi , do You make answer to the name , or can You say I am that Learned Gentleman ? I do believe there 's hardly one of us But may be sometimes stil'd ingenuous ; Yet he that said so , can you know unsay To M●rrow all that ere he said to day : As a brib'd Iustice must if Caesar please , Give up his Pa●ent , take his Writ of Ease . If the Unconstant Crowd shall say , Let go , You are'nt the men we prais'd : It must be so . What if I 'me follow'd with a Hue and cry , Stop Theif , he has committed Burglary ; Or if my Pious Neighbours , should present Me , a Loose Live● or Incontinent , Nay what if at Sessions I am try'd By a Nice Iury for a Parricide ; If I am sure , and know my Conscience clear , Shall I then Blush , or else look Pale for fear ? False Honour pleases , but false Infamy Affrights : Whom ? Those that love to hear a Ly. I wonder who 't is you call Good ; Your fine And learned Barrister that can untwine Statutes , Quote Reports , Books of Entries , pare The Law , and split out Iustice to a hair ; He that can knowingly give Evidence , And smooth both Parties to a Reference ! Yet there is scarce one House in the whole Town , But whispers this man Knave , for all his Gown . If my man tell me thus ; Sir , I ne're lay One night from home , or wrong'd you : must I say Be gon ? I 'le never trouble thee ; If he Sayes he never committed Felonie : Must I not prosecute , but say , Be free , 'T is pity thou should'st e're be hang'd by me ? I am a Godly , Pious , Sober man : Yes , yes ; But do you think Sabellus can Believe all this ? The Wolf the trap eschewes , The Hawk and Kite fly the suspected nooze . Good Men will hate all Wickedness , because They Vertue love more than they fear the Laws . You if you think you can cheat handsomly , All 's one , whether Clergy or Layety . Although it is a small loss , if you nimne But one Bean from a Quarter , 't is a sinne . He 's only counted honest now adayes That the whole Parish looks upon , he prayes And cryes Amen so loud at Church , although Sometimes if you hearken close , he 's as low Whispering ; Prithee sweet Devil give me leave To cheat Devoutly , but let none perceive . Give me a Cloak for all my Knavery ; What 's this man more than a Servant ? or why D' yee call a Miser , Freeman ? I have seen A Boy make both stoop for a Groat of Tin. He that still covets , still fears : I don't see What ground you have to say this man is free , H 'as fled his Colours , forsook the Field , which Flyes to turmoil in buis'ness and be rich . If you can sell your Pris'ner , never kill , But let him serve you ; let the Hardy till The Earth , turn Saylor , weather't out at Sea , Import Bisket ; 't will help the Granarie . He that is truly wise will dare thus to A Judge ; Come Sir , let 's hear the worst you 'll do : Why I 'le seize upon your Goods , take away Your Mony , Plate , nay all you 're Worth : You may : You shall be kept close Pris'ner : No , I 'le have Death bayle me , I can never be a Slave : That touches him , ( 't would any man ) Do , Dy First , Death is the last Seene of Misery . EPISTLE VXII . By R. N. To SCAEVA . The way to get Great Mens Favour . SCaeva , though thou art wise enough to tell How to make use of thy Super'ours well ; Yet learn of thy unskilful Friend ; and though He that is blind may undertake to shew The way ; yet mark , perhaps I may make known Something thou wilt desire to make thine own . If thou wilt hugg thy self with welcome Ease , If Sleep till next days Sun arise doth please , If thou' rt disturb'd with th' Hurry , and the Noise Of Carts , and Coaches , and of Dam-me-Boyes , I prethee to thy Country-house repair ; For 't is not Rich men only happy are ; Nor lives he ill , that lives and dies unknown : But if thou 'lt profit thine , and be more boon Unto thy self , though poor , yet come unto The Rich mans more delicious fare . 'T is true The Cynick said , that Aristippus would Refuse the fare of Princes , if he could Dine patiently on Sallads ; He again Said , that the Cynick would his Herbs disdain , Did he but know what 't was by Kings to be Feasted . The Cynick's saying points at me . But thou , my Friend , choose , and approve , and teach Either of both their doings and their speech ; Or as thou art a young man yet , mark well Why Aristippus bore away the Bell ; For he ( as I by many oft have heard ) That same morose Diogenes thus jeer'd , I Jest for Kings , but to my profit ; Thou Only for th' empty noise o' th People ; Now That 's the more Noble . I to ride the Kings Great Horse desire , Thou aim'st at baser things . But thou wilt say , Thou know'st no Poverty ; Yet poorer art , then he that gives to thee . All sorts of life did Aristippus bless , Aiming at great things , yet content with less ; But to thee none , whose only Robes and Fence Were nought but Rags and helpless Patience . If such a course of Life , so Traverstee Can any man become , 't is strange to me . Though Aristippns ne're desire to be Array'd in Robes of Purple made , yet he Could wear them ; yea he could in comely sort In Cloaths , or good , or bad himself deport . To thee a Scarlet Cloak did more abhorr , And rather fly it then a Snake , or Curr . Give him his Cloaths , else he with cold will dye , And thine , the● let the Fool his Fortune trie . T' atchieve great things , and Conquer , looks like Iove , It shews a reach at things that are above . 'T is no disgrace for Subjects to comply With gen'rous Kings : all have not wealth laid by . Fear of Success makes Cowards , be it so ; But he 's the Man , that thorough stitch doth go ; He is the Man , or none . One fears to ask A Princes favour , 't is too great a task For his too narrow Soul. Another He Begs boldly , and obtains . If Vertue be Still Vertue , doubt not , but that man is wise Who asks so , that he gains both Praise and Prize . Poor men , if modest , will with some obtain , While others sawcily shall ask in vain ; Here 's then the diff'rence , whether your favours be Humbly receiv'd , or snatcht immodestlie . The sum of all we aim at then here ends , Be meek and modest with thy Richer Friends . I have a Sister wants a Portion , and A Mother poor , a Farm lies on my hand That can't maintain me ; He that thus doth say , Doth in effect beg Alms : Another may Cant out his wants aloud , and keep a stir And cry , Give me one piece of Bread good Sir : A Crow , whilst feeding , if he would not Garr , Would have less trouble and more Meat by farr . One that is expert in the High-way Strains , That of the bitter cold , and storms complains , That cries his Pocket's pickt , and his small store Of Mony stoln , Iuggles but like a Whore , Who weeps for her lost Chain , or cries ah me ! My Garter's ravish'd from beneath my knee : Such common Cheats as these take all belief From real Losses , and from real Grief . He that is once thus chous'd , will sure beware Of helping such as faigned Cripples are . And though a Canting Cripple with tears To be helpt up , and by Osires swears , And sayes , I 'm lame , I do not mock , and then Cries out ; O help , help me hard hearted men ! The Neighbours rayl at him , and cry be gon , Get help ( you Rascal ) where you are not known . EPISTLE XVIII . By A. B. To LOLLIUS . How to be a good Companion . MY blunt friend Lollius , if I know thee right , Thou dost abhor to play the Parasite , Where thou professest friendship ; for so farr Differs a friend from a base flaterer , As a grave Matron from a Strumpet , who Differ in mind , in look , and gesture too . But there 's another vice as great as this , That is a rough-hew'd clownish surliness , When men unmannerly , unpleasant , rude , Themselves on others saucily obtrude ; And indiscreetly blurt out words which be Unfit , and call 't Virtue and Liberty . Vertue 's the mean betwixt two Vices , and From Vices is fenc'd in on every hand . Some being obsequious more then does befit , Jeer such as at the low'r end of th' Table sit ; But when a great man nods , will tremble , and What e're he says repeat at second hand ; As a poor School-boy says his Lesson o're , Which his harsh Master dictated before . Or as the Mimick Eccho's back what e're Verses or words by th' Actor's spoken were . Others dispute for trifles without end , And for Straw-matters tooth and nail contend , They 'll rather lose their share in Heav'n then they Won't be believ'd in whatsoe're they say ; Or not speak freely what comes in their brain , And that as impudently to maintain . But what 's the Question makes all this ado ? Which was the better Fencer of the two , Caster or Docilis ; whether Appium , Or Numicus lead to Brundusium ; Who 's out of his Estate by gaming run , Who by expensive Wenching is undone , And what fantastick Fool goes at a rate , In habit far above his mean estate . On whom th' in●atiate appetite of Gold And Silver has got a perpetual hold ; Or else of some vain-glorious fellow , which Makes it his bu'siness to be ' counted rich . The wealthy Patron , who is ten times more Skill'd in all Vices then he can that 's poore , Hates such concerning talk , and does abhor it , And either hates the Blabb , or checks him for it . Like a good Mother to her Daughters , he Desires that meaner men should wiser be Then he himself is , and more vir●uous too , And tells you things that are perhaps too true . Strive not with me ( says he ) I've an Estate , And that in me will folly tolerate ; You 're a mean Fellow , and your Coat must be Cut as your Cloth is : Don't compare with me . Eutrapelus to whom he did intend A mischief , he would costly habit send , That so transported with that goodly hew , He might take up strange hopes and counsels new , Sleep all the day , mind nothing but his Whore , Run into debt , and grow at last so poor , He must turn Fencer , and for bread sell's blood , Or drive Pack-Horses for a livelyhood . Other mens secrets never care to know ; But if a friend into thy bosom throw A secret , and desire thee to conceal it , Do not , though nere so drunk or mad , reveal it . Thy own peculiar Studies ne're commend , Nor what thy friend does fancy reprehend ; And if to hunt thy Patron minded be , Don't thou lie puzling with thy Poetry . 'Twixt Zethus and Amphion , both twins , hence There did arise a peevish difference ; Zethus , a Country Gentleman , inclin'd To Hownds and Hawks ; Amphion , gave his mind Wholly to 's Harp , but laid it quite aside Until his brothers heat was pacifi'd . In small things 't is good prudence to resigne Thy will to his whose pow'r is more then thine . And when he brings into the Champain ground His hunting properties , Horns , Horses , Hound , Lay by th' unsociable Muses then As recreations for old lazy men . Go hunt with him , then sup and take thy share Of what your sports produc'd , be 't Bore , or H●re : Among the Romans 't is a Recreation , Which is much us'd and in great Reputation . Besides 't will make thee healthy , and live long , Especially since thou art sound and strong , To keep in with the Doggs , and with the Bore , By thy own strength to graple and o're pow'r : Besides 't is known that there 's not any man For feats of Arms like thee , or dares , or can . When thou didst fence or wrestle , oh ! how loud Rang thy Applauses from th' admiring Crowd ! When but a boy the Souldiers duty thou In the Cantabrian battle didst pass through , Under that General , whose conquering Sword The Parthians hath to Italy restor'd ; And in their Temples hath set up again Those Ensignes which had been from Crassus tane . Do not withdraw thy self without a just Excuse , nor lye still that thy parts may rust . Although in all thy actions thou tak'st care They should be done exactly by the square ; Sometimes i' th' Country , thou descendst to toys , Acting a Sea-fight with the little boys : Two formal N●vies thou dost then equip , And armed Boys in both of them dost Ship ; On one side for Mark Anthony , thy Brother Was Admiral ; for Caesar thou on t'other . Your Fathers little Lake was made by thee For this great Fight the Adriatick Sea , Where you the Action battle acted o're , And ne're gave off till one was Conquerour . And if thy wealthy Patron does once finde Thee love those things to which he gives his minde , Tickled with that he will extol to th' skies This very Play , and think thy folly wise , I would advise thee further more ( if thou Didst stand in need of an adviser now . ) When thou dost talk of any man , take care Of whom , to whom , and what thy speeches are ▪ Shun him that is inquisitive , for he Will be as guilty of Garrulitie . And his still gaping ears itch to reveal What e're his friend intrusts him to conceal . And 't is impossible e're to recall One syllable which we have once let fall . And if thy Patron has a minde to toy With a fair Lady , or a pretty Boy , To his great House you must such reverence bear , As not to fall in love with either there : Least he that keeps them should prove so unkinde As to deny , and thou disturb thy minde ; Or ( which is worst ) should grant thee thy request , And thou popt off with these , content must rest . At first sight ne're commend a man , least thou Hereafter blush for him thou praisest now ; For we are soon deceiv'd , and to a Friend We oft unworthy men and things commend ; And therefore if one , whom thou didst suppose . Was a good person , should prove vitious , And thou be so deceiv'd praise him no more , Say thou' rt mistaken , and so give him o're . But if a friend that to thee 's throughly known Behind his back 's traduc'd by any one , Stick to him bravely ; for our names depend In absence on the courage of a friend ; Ne're let him carelesly endure a wrong From any Cowardly reproachful tongue . For is 't not plain , that who maliciouslie Back-bites thy friend , will do the same by thee ? When thy next neighbours house is all on fire , 'T is thy concern to make his flames expire ; For fire will gather strength if let alon● , And with thy neighbours house burn down thine owne . By unexperienc'd men 't is thought to be , To wait on Great men great felicitie ; But such as know what 't is , care not to come Among Great men , but count them troublesome . For thy part now into the World th' art got , Make it thy business to go on , and not Permit thy Vessel to ●ail back again , What e're contrary Winds disturb the Main , A merry man abhors a man that 's sad , And sad men hate all merry men as bad , A dull man hates an active man , and so A sprightly person scor●s a man that 's slow . The ●udling fellows , who past midnight drink , Hate such as from their pro●er'd glasses shrink : Though those that do refuse them truly swear Wine vapours in the night pernicious are . Look cheerfully in company ; for he That 's shamefac't 's generally thought to be A fellow of mean birth and spirit , and all Those that sit silent men do dogged call . But above all converse with wise men still , And read good Books , and learn from those the skill How thou mayst easily pass through this World , And not be vex'd and up and down be hurld By an insatiate desire , vain fear , Or hopes of things that of small moment are . Consider whether Vertue be produc'd By learning , or by nature be infus'd ; What lessens cares ; what makes a man to be A friend t' himself ; whence pure tranquil●●ie Proceeds , from Honour , or beloved wealth , Or from a Life led ( as it were ) by stealth . When I do to my Country Farm retreat , By those cool streams which me refresh in hear , What dost thou think I think upon ? or what Beleiv'st thou , if I could , I would be at ? I only pray that small Estate , which I Now have , may tarry with me till I die . And those few days which I have yet to live , ( If Heav'n to me any more days will give ) I may enjoy my self ; of Books have store , and Have necessaries for a year before-hand ; That I may never float 'twixt Hope and Doubt , What an uncertain Hour may bring about . But 't is enough to pray those heav'nly Powers Who give and take at Will what we call Ours . If I but live , and have my Pockets lin'd , Let me alone to get a quiet Mind . EPISTLE XIX . By A. B. To MECAENAS . A Discourse of Poetry . LEarned Mecaenas , if you 'll credit give To old Cratinus , not a Verse can live , Nor long be pleasant to us , which is writ By such as from meer water suck their wit. Since Liber has been pleas'd to rank all such As have of Rapture a transcendent touch , ●Mong Fawns and Satyrs , the delightsome Nine Did almost every morning smell of Wine . And Homers praising Wine , made Poets think The good old Man did much delight in drink . Hence Father Ennius would not write a Line , Till he had first got a good dose of Wine . The Politicks and great Affairs at Barr We leave to those that grave and sober are , But we 'll withhold from such sowre souls as theirs , The high Prerogative of writing Verse : As soon as this was publickly declar'd , All Poets up the brimful Goblet rear'd ; And for the Laurel all night long they drunk , And the next day of Wine all Poets stunk . But was this Poetry ? Shall every one That with a surly look , and shabbed Gown Walks without shoos and stockins through the Town , As representing learned Cato , straight His virtues and good manners imitate ? When Hyarbita aim'd to gain the glory Of rare Timagenes for Oratory , Striving to speak with Eloquence and Wit , He strain'd his Voyce , so that his Lungs were split . A pattern does delude a man when 't is Only pursu'd in that which is amiss . Should I by chance look pale ; Poets would fall To drinking Cummin-seeds to look so all . Oh servile herd of Imitators , who Make me both angry with , and laugh at you , And the base Drudgery which you 're forc'd to do ! 'T was I first set my daring foot , where none Had ever trod a step , but I alone . Who on 's own natural fancy does rely , Leads as a Captain does his Company . 'T was I that first the Romans did inspire With skill to write Iambicks for their lyre . The numbers and the spirit I pursu'd Of old Archilochus , but I eschew'd His railing matter and invective way , Which made poor old Lycambe to destroy His daughter and himself ; yet I hope you Think not the Laurel is to me less due , Because I have been fearful to invert The very mode of Verses , and the Art. The Masc'line Sappho did that Muse allay , Which was harsh in Archilochus his way . So did Alcaeus too , but different far In matter and in method their lines are . They sought no fathe'r in law to rhyme to death , Nor made enraged wives resign their breath . I being musical , him first did take , And fit to th' Roman lyre his numbers make . Which never any durst attempt tell then , And 't is my glory that ingenious men Such things as mine may come at and peruse , As ne're were touch'd by any other Muse. Now if you would the Reason know why some Ungrateful Readers will cry up at home , And hugg my Verses , but to all abroad Basely contemn those lines they so applaud ; I 'm none of those who sneakingly will court The windy suffrage of the Vulgar sort With my cast cloaths , nor with a costly Treat . I , that have heard the noblest wits repeat , And judg'd their Verses too , scorn to comply With formal paedagogues to teach their Fry My Verses , nor am I fondly delighted , When they in publick Pulpits are recited . Hence springs my misery ! And now if I Should say ( which I can say ingeniously ) I am asham'd Comaedians should rehearse My worthless lines in crowded Theaters , And by their tone and action make those seem Ingenious , which have no wit in them ; Some envious fellow will say , Horace , this Only a copy of thy countenance is , Thou dost preserve thy Poems only for The Princely ears of our great Emperor ; Presuming that none other but thy Muse ( Vain-glorious Fop ) good Poems can produce . I dare not laugh at this , least I should be More wounded by my struggling enemie . I 'm fain to cry out , I don't like the place , And as my right demand a breathing space . Fooling in jest oft fearful strife begets , And strife for victory produceth pets ; From sudden pets do deadly fewds proceed , And deadly fewds destructive wars do breed . EPISTLE XX. By A. B. To his BOOK . A Character of himself . WEll Book , thou on the Stationers stall wilt lie , Bound neatly to allure the gazers eye ; Thou hate'st to be seal'd up , or else confin'd , Which are things grateful to a modest mind . 'T is grievous to thee to be shewn to few , All thy ambition is for publick view . Thy father has not bred nor taught thee so ; But get thee gone , since thou 'st a mind to go . When once thou' rt gone , thou 'lt ne're return agen ; When thou' rt abus'd by the half-witted men , Thou 'lt say ; alas ! wherein am I too blame ? What have I done , or said , that mis-became ? Thou wilt repent , what thou hast rashly done , And what attempt thy pride threw thee upon . When thou shalt finde the Reader who admir'd Thee so at first , become both cloy'd and tyr'd , And roul thee up , and lay thee quite aside . But if I 'm not with anger Stupifi'd , At this offence of thine , I can foretell Thou wilt at Rome be entertain'd full well , While thou art new , but when thou' rt sulled grown By vulgar Thumbs , thou wilt be let alone For the dull moths , or sent to forraign parts , To cover Letters , or put under Tarts . Then I who unbeleiv'd , admonish'd thee Of all these things , shall laugh as heartilie At thy misfortunes , as he who did pass O're a steep cliff with an unruly Ass , Who playing resty tricks so stirr'd the Gall Of 's Master , that he let him loose to fall ; Nay thrust him down the Rocks , for who 〈◊〉 ( Q●oth he ) what 's minded to be gone away 〈◊〉 This will befall thee too , thou wilt at last Among old doating Schoolmasters be cast , Who in small Villages and far remote When the warm Sun has a full audience brought , Will read thee to their boyes , then thou may'st say , I 'm son of one who was a slave made free , Born to a mean Estate , but have increast It so , my wings are greater then my nest . What from my Ancestors thou tak'st away Of same , thou to my Industry must pay . I was companion to the best o' th' Town , Whether they were for Arms , or for the Gown . Of a small stature , gray before my time , And much delighted with a warmer clime . Soon angry , and soon pleas'd ; if any do , How old I am , of thee desire to know ; Tell them I 'm 44 years old this year , When Lepidus and Lollius Confuls are . EPISTLES . Book II. EPISTLE I. By Sir W. P. To AUGUSTUS . A Discourse of Poetry . WHen you alone so many and so great Affairs dispatch , of War and Peace do treat , Still thinking how to save the State from harms By wholesome Laws , good Manners , and just Arms ; I should the Publique wrong , and cross that end With tedious talk your precious time to spend . Romu●us that ●ounded Rome , and Bacchus ; who Invented Wine , whereby Men great things do , Though they were after death receiv'd among The Gods , yet living did complain of wrong ; For though the ground from weeds & bryers they freed , Ta●ght and made men on delicates to feed , Composed that common War and Scramble , which Made men like Beasts ; To each mans own , did pitch Just bounds , did plant the Earth with Flowers & Fruits ▪ Yea built men Cities : yet the World , like Bruits , Ne're knew , or found their worth , till 't was too late , Till those brave souls had pass'd the Common fate . Nor he , that crusht the Hydra , and subdued Predigious Monsters , when for reward he sued , Could ever it or ease obtain ; for still Envy would say's exploits were mean or ill . So he , who doth with new or nobler Arts Assist the world , shall never win their hearts ; But him alive they 'll laugh at and despise , Whom when he 's dead they will extol to th' skies . Yet Sir to you , ( though living ) men allow Honours divine , by you they 'll swear , they 'll vow Upon your Altars , and confess that never So great a thing appear'd nor shall do ever . Now though the world be very just and wise In this one point , that in their critick eyes You do excel all Greek and Roman Kings , Yet they don 't justly judge of other things , But loath or envy every thing but what Is dead or gone , or which ca●not be got . So Lovers of Antiquity do praise The Laws and Customs of forgotten dayes , Applaud those Articles and that antient deed To which the Sabines and Gabii agreed ; Admire the Liturgies and Rituals Found in Ruines of old Abby wals . Because the Writings of the Greeks we deem So much the better as they older seem ; If we should judge the same of what is here But lately writ , we might as well inferre That Olives have no stones , nor Nuts no shell ; For how one follows t'other I can't tell . We 're now at Rome arrived to the height , As well's the Greeks ; We paint , and sing , and ●ight . If age do better Verse , like Wine , how long Must Verses lie before they 're smart and strong ? A Poet dy'd an hundred years ago , Shall he be reckoned as new Must or no ? Or for old wholsome Wine ? Well! let him pass . Another wants a year , or less : Alass Shall he lose therefore all ? Let him pass too : Another wants a little more ; Let 's do The like for him ; The whole Horse-tail we may Thus hair by hair at length pluck quite away . He that consults the Annals , or counts Years , To try if Verse be good , T' whom nought appears Ex'llent , but what has pass'd the Grave , may see How wise and mighty Ennius , ( even hee Who 's call'd another Homer ) did not care How ill his Promises performed were . Naevius is got by heart and dearly sold ; So sacred are his Works because they 're old . Which of these two is best , Men cannot tell ; For Learning old Pacuvi●● bears the bell . Accius high strains are praised , Afranius Pen Makes us believe Menander wrote agen . Plautus resembles Epicharmus ; weight Commends Coecilius , Terence gentle flight . Their Playes do throng the Stage , from Livies dayes Down to our times , These Men have worn the Bayes . Sometime the Vulgus hit , sometime they miss , For when they say , That nothing Modern is Equal , to what is old , much less preferr'd , I boldly say , The Vulgar then have err'd . But if they 'll yield , That Ancients Wits have used Words obsolete or harsh , and have amused Men with their careless Thoughts , my hand and heart Shall joyn with them , and Iove shall take our part . I 'ld not explode , or scorn poor Livy's Verse , Nor yet what School-boys sometimes may reherse . But would n't have 't admir'd , because by chance Some single Phrase proves good , or that a glance Of wit does twinkle through the cloudy sky Of vaprous or tempestuous Poetry . I take it ill , That Men find fault , because ▪ A thing was lately writ , not for its ●laws , Or botches ; Yea , methinks I could lament , That Doters on stale stuffe are not content With pardon and connivance for some lines Scap● from the Ancients , but cry , bayes and shrines ! If one but doubts , Whether the Stage should be Strew'd o're with Flowers and Saffron , when we see Atta's things play'd , Our Gray-beards in a fume Cry Modesty is gone : If one presume To hint , that Roscius ever fail'd a tittle , They 're angry too , because they value little But what they valued young , or else because They scorn from younger men to take new laws . Now he that says th' old Saliar Verse was high , Seeming to know , who knows no more then I , Does not applaud the Authors of those Songs , But by his envy , us and our Wits wrongs . If the old Greeks like us , would not allow Ought that was new , what shall be ancient now ? Upon whose Works might we now safely look To read and con them as a classick Book ? When War was past in Greece , when Wealth and Ease Dispos'd men there to study , what did please ? Sometimes to Fence , or Vault , or th' H●rse to ride ; Sometimes to carving they their minds apply'd ; Or else to Painting , where they 'd nicely see How Ordnance draught and Colours did agree . Sometimes 't was Dancing , Musick , Scenes and Stage , That prov'd the pleasures of that wanton Age : So does a Child cry to his Nurse for toys , That are contemned by the bigger boys . For , which of all the things we hate , or love , Don't change ? Or which are fortunes power above ? Thus from a prosperous State and plenty springs Variety that gives all Gust to things . At Rome 't was heretofore a credit , and A Mode in ones Office or Shop to stand Waiting for Customers and Clients , all The morning , to let out money , to call On young men to be thrifty , and to hear Old mens advice , thus went about the year : But now the worlds chang'd , one humor runs Through ev'ry vein ; the Lawyers write Lamprons , Merchants Burlesque , the only Trade's for Bayes , Your Gowty Statesman too vent'rous at Playes : Ev'n I that have renownc'd all Poetrie , Sick of the self-same Itch of writing lie . For before day , when one can't see to scrawl , Do I scarce waked for Pen and Paper call . He that was ne're at Sea , wisely refuses To sail a Ship ; He likewise that ne're uses To practise Physick , dares not to dispense Strong Purges , nor what stupifies the Sense . Smiths do make Locks , and only Taylors clothes ; But they write Verse , that never could write Prose . Now le ts consider , What good this humor works ; Why first of all , no covetous Canker lurks Within a Poet ; nought can his soul intrude , But how to fancy finely , and t' allude : When good are lost , when servants run away , When tax is pay'd , when stoods the banks destroy , He cares n't , plots no trick to cheat his friend Or to devoure his Ward ; for to what end Should men do so , who can eat Bread and Cheese , Wear footed Stockings , and be warm in freeze ? Poets in Peace considerable are , Though they are useless in the times of warre . Now if you 'll grant that small things may improve Greatest affairs , we must our Poets love . For first they teach our children how to speak Plain and distinct , from telling lyes 'em break , Chide 'em for calling Names , Cursing , and Oathes ; Make them say Prayers , and keep clean their Clothes . Poets write Story , and by example teach , They comforts to the sick and needy preach . When Boys and Girls in Procession sing Anthems and Hymns , that God would bless the King , Send Rain , or Harvest-weather , save the fruit , Stop Plagues , and grant 'em any other suit , I' st not the Poet that makes those heavenly charms , And does more by 'em , then by Martial Arms ? Old Husbandmen and Worthies , such as could Be happy with a little , heretofore would ( After their Corn was housed , or Sheep were shorn , With Wife and Barns , and others who had born Part in those labors ) make an Holy-day , Kill a fat Pig , eat Cream , drink Wine and Play , Give Sacrifice , and sing to th' heavenly Powers VVhat Poets compos'd at their inspir'd Howers . Fescennine freedom by this means did grow , Such whose each distich , some course flouts did throw : This freedom for a while past well enough , Until at length it grew so tart and rough , So dirty and down-right , not sparing any , Though ne're so worthy men : At length when many Had been abus'd , the few that had scap'd free Took care thence forward , that no more should bee Making a paenal Law , by which good men Grew safe from th' poyson of Satyrick Pen. Thus Rhymers were reduc'd for fear of drubbing When no Scab was , quite to refrain from rubbing . Greece being taken by the Romans , took Its Conquerors ; from thence came Art and Book Into rude Italy , thenceforth the Rhymes That were in use in the Saturnine Times , Were obsolete ; and as we grew more rich In Things and Thoughts , so was improv'd our Speech . 'T was a great while before our minds we bent To read Greek Authors , and learn what they meant ; Till being in Peace , then when the Punick Warr Was well composed , the Romans waded farr In Soph'cles , Thespis , and Aeschilus too , Trying what they could in Translating do . They did succeed ; their smart and lofty Wit The Tragick vein with grace enough did hit . Com'dy tuey thought ( because its subject was Trivial and mean ) was easie ; But alas ! They did not dream how little pardon 's giv'n To the poor Comick : How hard was Plautus driv'n , The am'rous Young mans humor to make good , And his Curmudgin Fathers understood : And paint the plotting Pimp ? Porsennas Pen Describ'd with pains the flatt'ring Trencher-men . How slightly are perform'd some other parts By those that nothing else lay to their hearts , But to get Mony ? Let their Box to th'brim Be fill'd , they care not , if th' Play sink or swim . Him that Vain-glory stirs to write a Play , How doth Spectators negligence dismay , As when they gaze and gape , and give no heed ? But then , What joy does good attention breed ? So slight and small a matter quells or raises Minds that too much affect the peoples praises . Adieu all writing Playes , if so be that I pine when hiss'd , or when I 'm humm'd grow fat . Bold and sound Poets sometimes are cast down , Ev'n when the scoundrel Rabble of the Town , Sailers and Butchers being quickly full And glutted with strong Sense , call for the Bull ; Or ( in the middle of an Act ) the Bears Or Fencers set together by the Ears : Though when the better sort , and men of skill Grow weary too , the Play 't is like was ill . When men have sate a good while at the Play , And in disgust shall flock apace away , Then is brought forth a pinnion'd King , and shown Wagons of captive Dames , Corinth o'rethrown In Pastboard models : Democritus would sneere At such poor tricks , if he again were here ; He 'd laugh to see a spotted Dromedary , Spectators eyes off from the Play to carry ; In marking them he would more pleasure find , So pleasing 't is t' observe the peoples mind . Moreover he considering what a din Noise and confusion all the Stage is in , Might think the slighted Poet did rehearse Unto deaf Asses his elab'rate Verse . For when the Actors first appear well clad In Persian Silk , the People all like mad Hum and clap hands , not for their ex'lent saying , But for their Clothes and Purple gay arraying . Now lest you think , that I disparage what I cannot understand , or rellish not ; I grant , that such a Poet may climbe a Steeple Up by a small slack rope , who can the people Anger , appease , make laugh , or weep , or fear ; Whisk 'em to Athens , or Thebes , or keep 'em here ; Who by meer Words , can thus command mens fancy ▪ Is Master in Poetick Necromancy . Such men encourage , and withal those who Can the same thing without Drammaticks do ; For these you must provide , if you desire To blow strong flames out of Poetick fire ; Or if you 'ld sharpen Wit , and make collection Of pieces neerest to divine perfection . We Po●ts wrong our selves , ( and I offend As oft as others ) when we Books commend Into your hands , when you perhaps are tired , Or in the Bogs of some disaster mired . Then , when we vex that any though our friend , Should but one Verse ev'n gently reprehend ; Or when we reading our own Verse , repeat As Cud to be rechew'd what 's tastless meat : When full of our own sense , we do complain That no man throughly weighs our skill and pains ▪ And when we think , that you Great Sir as soon As e're we write , are bound to give a Boon , That you should bid us write the Second Part , And say Reward shall equal our Desart ; How e're 't is good to know , with whom to trust Great deeds , and who can save 'm from the dust . Choeri'lus so well did Alexander please With Verses not quite worth so many Pease , As that the fort'nate Bard , Medals and Coins Of precious Gold got for his Leaden lines . Some Poets foul more with their dirty Pen , Then can be clean'd again by better Men. That Prodi'gal Prince who bought those simple Rhimes At such a rate , was wise at other times , Forbidding all but great Apelles hand To draw his Picture ; Nay he did command That none should mold the figure of his face Except Lysippe , who did it with grace . Had this vain Prince no more skill in discerning The hands of Artists , then the men of Learning , One might have call'd him Thick-skul , and have sworn , That in some foggy air he had been born . But you are not abus'd in any sort By th' Gifts and Character and fair Report Bestow'd on Virgil and on Varius , then Whom are not better , either Wits or Men. The shapes of famous men are not so clear In graven Brass , as do their minds appear In well-pen'd Words : for my part I had chose ( Rather then broken Rhimes , resembling Prose ) To write heroick Verse , and those on you , That all the world might your atchievements know ; I would describe the Castles you have won , And winding Rivers that below 'em run . I would those barb'rous Kingdoms represent , The peace which you have forc'd where e're you went : Then Ianus Temple I 'de expose to view , And Rome by th' Parthi'ans fear'd , whilst rul'd by you , But Sir , low Verse cannot your Highness grace , Wherefore t' attempt it I have not the face . For me to be pragmatical might prove Your trouble , not my duty and my love : Besides , if I fell short to do your right , My faults would be remembred out of spight : For Readers so malicious now are growne , What 's bad they 'll con , what 's good they let alone . I hate such kindness as offends , and his That draws my Picture uglier then it is . Though gayly drest , I value not a rush The gawdy praises that must make me blush , And dread to have my Name bedawb'd on Paper Fit but to light Tobacco-pipes and Tapers ; Or else to wrap up wares of little price In Chandlers Shops , at best but Plums and Spice . EPISTLE ult . By I. D. To JULIUS FLORUS . Another Discourse of Poetry . BRave Nero's Favourite , My Iulius ( I answer your complaining letter thus ) Suppose one had to sell , and you would buy A Boy at Tibur born , or Gabii , The owner plainly tells you ; Sir you s●e , He 's smooth , and fair , of perfect Symmetrie In all his parts ; and without more discourse , Give me but so much money , he is yours . This I dare vouch , he 's apt , and quick to spie The smallest motions of your hand , or eye . He hath a little Greek , and being young May yet improve , he 's pretty good at song : But earnest praising Merchants oft declare Their craft , more then goodness of their Ware. I have no need to sell , my stock 's but small , Yet what small stock I have , my own I call . I 'le tell you therefore all the worst I know , Which I believe , none of the trade would do . The truth is , once he play'd the idle Boy , And fearing to be beaten ran away ; Now Take , or Leave ; May he not safely now Receive his money , having told you so ? Why should you sue , or call him cheat , when as He told you , what an Idle Rogue it was ? Yet so you deal in chiding me ; you know , I told you likewise e're you went , how slow I am in writing Letters , that as soon You might almost make any Cripple run ; But yet you still complain of me , and chide Because I do not write ; Nay , and beside You say I promis'd Verses ; But for that , Pray hear a story that I shall relate ; One of Lucullus souldiers went abroad To forage , and dearly having earn'd his load , In very pleasant manner , down he lies , And snores all night ; But e're he thought to rise , All his Provant was gone ; With that as Keen As a she Woolf , he falls to Rave , and Grin , Mad with himself , no less then with his foes , And Careless which should die for 't , out he goes Gnashing his teeth , and whosoe're he met , He lookt as fierce , as though he would him eat . In this high Rage , he storm'd a Fort himself That was well fortifi'd , and stor'd with wealth , And laid about him with such force , they say , As made the Guards give place , and run away ; For which exploit his very name was fear'd , And Thousands given him as a just Reward . Soon after this , the Praetors mind being bent To take a certain Castle , straight he sent To this great famous Souldier , and began T' exhort him by the name of gallantaman , Us'd all the Arguments , apt to excite With Words , enough to make a Coward●ight ●ight . The Clown wiser then so , cries ; Pray Sir hold , Such work becomes poor fellows , I have Gold. ( Now to apply this ) I at Rome was Bred , And for some time the Poets there I Read ; At Athens next , where I learnt to descry The Truth from falshood by Philosophy ; But the unhappy times hinder'd my stay In that sweet place , and hurry'd me away From Books to Arms , and then I was ingag'd I' th' Warrs which Brutus with Augustus wag'd . But e're long Brutus being overcome , I narrowly scap't from Philippi home , Stript , and as poor as possible , and then Having no way to live , but by my Pen , Straight I betook my self to versi●ie , Instructed by Ingenious Povertie . But now grown past all needs ( to pore on sad Dull Poetry , would not men think me mad ? ) I 'm of the Souldi●rs mind , I 'le sleep and seed , Why should I not ? let them take pains that need . I find I 'm growing old , and every year Steals somewhat from me ; Venus , Mirth , and Chear , Begin to lose their Gust ; My Wits decline , And my Poetick vein grows dry with time . What e're I have been , I am scarse the same , And will you have me dance now I am lame ? But if I did my faculty retain , All would not like it ; you the Lyrick strain Do best affect : a second he commends Hopping Iambicks , and a third contends That nothing's good but what 's Satyrical ; And how is 't possible to please you all ? Just so , as though I should three friends invite , And each one of a different appetite ; Sir , Shall I help you here ? No ; I 'm for this . And , What think you ? I 'm for the other dish . Are you so to ? No Sir , I thank you , I Like the first best : So 't is in Poetry . Besides all this , I wonder , you can guess Amidst the labours and disturbances Of this base busie Town , I should have rest To write a word . One comes and makes request , I would be surety for him ; After this I 'm call'd to hear the Poets Exercise ; I 've friends to visit too ; one in the Quirine , Th' other ( a fair distance ) in the Aventine . But yet you 'll say , the streets are fine , and still , And one may walk , and think of what he will. ( Oh mighty quiet , fit for th' ears of Kings ! These Carts and Coaches are such silent things . ) Here one comes with his Mules , all in a sweat , Who us'd to bring home Carriages with meat ; There creaks an Engine , which the Builder uses To wind up Timber to the tops of houses . Here goes a Funeral , and there a Dray Standing athwart the street blocks up their way . Now a mad Dog directly at me makes ; Anon , I meet a Sow out of a Iakes , ( And must give her the wall ) midst all this din , Is 't not a sweet place to make Verses in ? Poets true Bacchus Tribe , like him re●oyce To sleep in shades , of arr from the Cities noise . And would you have me do , as they have done , Although I live in this lewd balling Towne ? 'T is no rare thing to see some that have spent Seven years at Athens , in their studies pent , Reading their eyes almost out ; who yet after Return dumb objects of the peoples laughter , ( And neither say nor write ) here I am tost , And in a storm of trouble well nigh lost : How can I grant , or you of me desire , To sing sweet Lyricks to the joyful Lyre ? At Rome two Brothers were ; this studied Law , That was a Rhetor ; both so given to claw Each other , that their whole discourse was lies In praise of one anothers faculties ; That call'd this Gracchus , He him Mutius . Do not we Poets play the fool just thus ? I merry Lyricks write , Another he Being more grave , delights in Elegie : Yet both , as though undoubtedly inspir'd With all the Nine , expect to be admir'd . Do but observe , with what a stately grace We stalk , and look round the reciting place . But what great matter bring we , that should raise Our Expectations to be crown'd with Bayes ? The Samnites us , and we the Samnites wast , And yet we made the Samnites yield at last . O rare ! now he protests I shall no more Be Horace , but Alcaeus ; I adore Him as Callimachus , but that 's too little , Then he 's Mimnermus , or some greater title . These waspish Poets thus I'm faign to please , When I write , that I may gain their Suffrages . But I 'le be plagu'd no more ; I le neither write Henceforth my self , nor hear when they recite . Verses indeed if bad , there 's nothing worse , Nor more ridiculous , yet some fools of course Love to be scribling , and themselves extoll , For that at which all others laugh and droll . He that would have his Poems take , must sit Judge of his own language , as well as wit , Like a grave Censor ; words of no weight nor shew He must degrade , though they are loth to goe , And plead prescription . To recruit his store With choice and good , old words he must restore , Though th 'ave lain long rejected and despis'd , And take in new , what use hath naturaliz'd . And as a River that runs clear and strong , The soil inricheth , as it glides along : So must his language be ; it must not want , But neither must it be luxuriant . With smoother phrase he polishe's what 's rough , And throws out all the flat insipid stuff . And as a skilful Actor , he must strive , To imitate each Humor to the life . For my part , I had rather far be thought A trifling Poetaster , if that ought I do please's my self , be 't ne're so vain , Than to write well , and to endure the pain Of being vext with Censures . There was one At Argos , who did use to sit alone I' th' Theatre , fancying himself to be Present at some ingenious Tragedie : Hearkned and humm'd , till he thought all was ended , Then clapt , and cry'd , 'T is never to be mended : ' Bate only this , in other matters He Was as discreet as any one could be ; He was a right good Neighbour ; none more free To treat his Friends with all civilitie : Good to his Family ; if he came nigh A Rock or Lake , would heed how he past by : Could not be charg'd with any desperate folly , The worst was , he was highly Melancholy ; For this a lusty dose of Hellebore He took , which did him to himself restore ; But being cur'd , he cry'd , and said , Alas ! Such an unhappy Remedy ne're was ; For now by this unfortunate Occasion , I 've lost the pleasure of Imagination . 'T is time I should grow wise , and leave such toyes As Songs and Verses , proper sports for Boyes . Not weighing words , nor meas'ring out of sounds , But scanning life , and tracing Virtues bounds . Now thus I 'le spend my Thoughts ; If you or I Had such a thirst , that we were alwayes dry , How much so e're we drink , we should be sure To tell the Doctor of 't , and ask the cure . Now you are rich , yet cover still to gain More wealth , Is not this case the very same ? If one should say , such Herbs , or such a Course , Will cure your wound , if still your wound grew worse , Would you not cease to follow his Advice ? So you have heard , that he must needs be wise To whom the Gods give Riches , yet you find The Goods of Fortune have not chang'd your mind . And will you still believe it , since you know , By sad experience , that it is not so ? If to be Rich , could make one wise indeed , And you were sure by that means to be freed From hurtful Passions ; then I would allow , That none should be more Covetous than you ; But since it can no such effect produce , Let that suffice that serves for present use . If what I have , though small , be mine , ( as 't is ) And what one use's , in some sort is his : ( As the Civili●ns teach ) then Orbus field , And whatsoever fruit the same doth yield , Is mine ; nay and his servants too , and all He hath , may truly me their Master call . I give a little money , and receive Grapes , Poultry , Wine , and what I please to have . The difference is , I with a small expence Buy what he purchas'd with vast Sums long since . The Purchaser of all those fields that lie About Aricia , and old Veii , Hath not a Sallet of his own introth , Nor one small stick to warm his stale-kept broth , But what is bought ; only he calls it His As far as lies within such Boundaries . Fond man ! how canst thou call that substance thine Which varies like thy shadow ? One hour's time , One flitting hour , alters the property , And either death , sale , force or flattery Makes it another mans . For Heirs come on As fast as waves , one e're the other 's gone . And since 't is so , to what intent should I Great Farms or Mannors strive to multiply ? Or make new purchases ? when as , Alas ! Death and the Grave mow down all flesh like Grass ; Sparing nor high , nor low , nor young , nor old , Untouch't with Pity , uncorrupt with Gold. And while we live , we may live , if we please , Happy and well , without such things as these , Gems , Ivory , Marble , Pictures , Plate , rare Cuts , Garments like those in which the Sophy struts . All that make bodies gay , or houses brave , Some have them not , others don't care to have . So of two Brothers , one delights to play And drink ; the other from the break of day Till it be dark night , spends himself with toyl , Beating and burning the hard barren soyl . The only Reason that they differ thus , Proceedeth from a different Genius ; Which is as 't were a little Deitie , Prescribing how to live , and when to die . To some unluckie , to some Fortunate , So constituting good or evil Fate . For my part , I 'm resolv'd that little wealth I have , to use , and not to starve my self . I will be moderate , yet I 'le not forbear Expence , lest I should grieve my greedy Heir , Or make my Executor think much , to see My Inventory spent in Legacie . There is discretion to be us'd , for he Is justly taxt with Prodigalitie , That vainly wastes his Fortune ; and no less Is he to be accus'd of Greediness , Who spares his Purse , more than his Reputation , And will not spend upon a just occasion . But he that hath enough , and thinks it so , Toils not for more , nor pines to see that go ; That sometimes makes a festival , and spares A day for mirth to loose the bonds of cares : That doth no wrong , and is discreetly free , That man 's indu'd with Liberalitie . Bless me from Poverty and Sordidness ! And then be my enjoyments more or less , I 'm still the same : To me it matters not , Whether I 'm carried in a bigger Boat , Or in a less ; The middle state 's the best . And mine is such , I neither am opprest With storms , nor flat at all with calms ; my Sailes Are fill'd with equal and Indifferent Gales : For health , wit , vertne , honour , wealth , I 'm plac't Short of the foremost , but before the last . Yet though a man be freed from Avarice , That 's not enough , if any other Vice Be suffer'd to bear sway . What ? art thou free From pride , and empty Popularitie ? Art free from raging anger , and the fear Of cruel death , that dreadful Messenger ? Canst laugh at superstitious fond conceits Of Sprights , Dreams , Omens , all those vulgar cheats ? Art thankful for thy age that 's past and gone , And being older , Art thou better grown ? For as it cannot mitigate ones pain , To draw one Thorn , whilst twenty more remain : To hate one Vice is nothing , whilst the mind Indulges Vices of another kind . Until thou canst thy life exactly frame To Virtue 's pattern , don't usurp the name . But having play'd , and eat , and drunk thy share , Get home , lest taking more than thou canst beare , Th' art mock't , and bob'd , and justled for thy folly , By th' Lads whose priviledg is to be jolly . HORACE , His ART of POETRY . By B. I. IF to a Womans head a Painter would Set a Horse-neck , and divers feathers fold On every limbe , ta'en from a several creature , Presenting upwards , a fair female feature , Which in some swarthy fish uncomely ends : Admitted to the sight , although his friends , Could you contain your laughter ? Credit me , This piece , my Piso's , and that book agree , Whose shapes , like sick-mens dreams , are fain'd so vain , As neither head , nor foot , one form retain . But equal power , to Painter , and to Poet , Of daring all , hath still been given ; we know it : And both do crave , and give again , this leave . Yet , not as therefore wild , and tame should cleave Together : not that we should Serpents see W●th Doves ; or Lambes , with Tygres coupled be . In grave beginnings , and great things profest , Ye have oft-times , that may o're-shine the rest , A Scarlet-peice or two , stitch'd in : when or Diana's Grove , or Altar , with the bor ▪ - Dring Circles of swift waters that intwine The pleasant grounds , or when the River Rhine , Or Rainbow is describ'd . But here was now No place for these . And , Painter , hap'ly , thou Know'st only well to paint a Cypress tree . What 's this , if he whose money hireth thee To paint him , hath by swimming hopeless scap'd , The whole fleet wreck'd ? A great jarre to be shap'd , Was meant at first ; why forcing still about Thy labouring wheele , comes scarce a Pitcher out ? In short ; I bid , Let what thou work'st upon , Be simply quite throughout , and wholly one . Most Writers , noble Sire , and either Sonne , Are , with the likeness of the truth , undone . My self for shortness labour ; and I grow Obscure . This striving to run smooth and slow , Hath neither soul , nor sinews . Loftie he Professing greatness , swells : That low by lee Creeps on the ground ; too safe , too afraid of storm . This seeking , in a various kind , to form One thing , prodigiously , paints in the woods A Dolphin , and a Boar amid the floods . So , shunning faults , to greater fault doth lead , When in a wrong , and art less way we tread . The worst of Statuaries here about Th' Aemilian School , in brass can fashion out The nails , and every curled hair disclose ; But in the main work hapless : since he knows Not to design the whole . Should I aspire To form a work , I would no more desire To be that Smith ; then live , mark'd one of those , With fair black eyes , and hair , and a wry nose . Take , therefore , you that write , still , matter fit Unto your strength , and long examine it , Upon your Shoulders . Prove what they will bear , And what they will not . Him whose choice doth rear His matter to his power , in all he makes , Nor language , nor cleer order ere forsakes . The vertue of which order , and true grace , Or I am much deceiv'd , shall be to place Invention . Now , to speak ; and then differ Much , that mought now be spoke : omitted here Till fitter season . Now , to like of this ; Lay that aside , the Epicks office is . In using also of new words , to be Right spare , and wary : then thou speak'st to me Most worthy praise , when words that common grew , Are , by thy cunning placing , made meer new . Yet , if by chance , in utt'ring things abstruse , Thou need new terms ; thou maist , without excuse , Fain words , unheard of to the well-truss'd race Of the Cethegi ; And all men will grace , And give , being taken modestly , this leave , And those thy new , and late-coyn'd words receive , So they fall gently from the Grecian spring , And come not too much wrested . What 's that thing . A Roman to Caecilius will allow , Or Plautus , and in Virgil disavow , Or Varius ? why am I now envi'd so , If I can give some small increase ? When , loe , Cato's and Ennius tongues have lent much worth , And wealth unto our language ; and brought forth New names of things . It hath been ever free , And ever will , to utter terms that bee Stamp'd to the time . As woods whose change appears Still in their leaves , throughout the sliding years , The first-born dying ; so the aged state Of words decay , and phrases born but late Like tender buds shoot up , and freshly grow . Our selves , and all that 's ours , to death we owe : Whether the Sea receiv'd into the shore , That from the North , the Navy safe doth store , A Kingly work ; or that long barren fen Once rowable , but now doth nourish men In neighbour-towns , and feels the weighty plough ; Or the wild river , who hath changed now His course so hurtful both to grain , and seeds , Being taught a better way . All mortal deeds Shall perish : so far off it is , the state , Or grace of speech , should hope a lasting date . Much phrase that now is dead , shall be reviv'd ; And much shall dye , that now is nobly liv'd , If Custom please ; at whose disposing will The power , and rule of speaking resteth still . The gests of Kings , great Captains , and sad Warres , What number best can fit , Homer declares . In Verse unequal match'd , first sowre Laments , After mens Wishes , crown'd in their events Were also clos'd : But , who the man should be , That first sent forth the dapper Elegie , All the Grammarians strive ; and yet in Court Before the Judge , it hangs , and waits report . Unto the Lyrick Strings , the Muse gave grace To chant the Gods , and all their God-like race , The conqu'ring Champion , the prime Horse in course , Fresh Lovers business , and the Wines free source . Th' Iambick arm'd Archilochus to rave , This foot the socks took up , and buskins grave , As fit t' exchange discourse ; a Verse to win On popular noise with , and do business in . The Comick matter will not be exprest In tragick Verse ; no less Thyestes feast Abhors low numbers , and the private strain Fit for the sock : Each subject should retain The place allotted it , with decent thewes . If now the turns , the colours , and right hues Of Poems here describ'd , I can , nor use , Nor know t' observe : why ( i' the Muses name ) Am I call'd Poet ? wherefore with wrong shame , Perversly modest , had I rather owe To ignorance still , then either learn , or knows . Yet , sometime , doth the Comedie excite Her voyce , and angry Chremes chafes out-right With swelling throat : and of the tragick wight Complains in humble phrase . Both Telephus , And Peleus , if they seek to heart-strike us That are Spectators , with their misery , When they are poor , and banish'd , must throw by Their bombard-phrase , and foot-and-half-foot words : 'T is not enough , th' elaborate Muse affords Her Poem's beauty , but a sweet delight To work the hearers mind , still , to their plight . Mens faces , still , with such as laugh , are prone To laughter ; so they grieve with those that mone . If thou would'st have me weep , be thou first drown'd Thy self in tears , then me thy loss will wound , Peleus , or Telephus . If you speak vile And ill-penn'd things , I shall , or sleep , or smile . Sad language fits sad looks : stuff'd menacings , The angry brow ; the sportive , wanton things ; And the severe , speech ever serious . For Nature , first within doth fashion us To every state of fortune ; she helps on , Or urgeth us to anger ; and anon With weighty sorrow hurls us all along , And tortures us : and , after by the tongue Her truch-man , she reports the minds each thr● If now the phrase of him that speaks , shall flow In sound , quite from his fortune ; both the rout , And Roman Gentry , jeering , will laugh out . It much will differ , if a God speak , than , Or an Herce : If a ripe old man , Or some hot youth , yet in his flourishing course ; Where some great Lady , or her diligent Nourse ▪ A ventring Merchant , or the Farmer free Of some small thankful land : whether he bee Of Cochis born ; or in Assyria bred ; Or , with the milk of Thebes ; or Argus , fed . Or follow fame , thou that dost write , or fain Things in themselves agreeing . If again Honour'd Achilles chance by thee be seiz'd , Keep him still active , angry , un-appeas'd , Sharp , and contemning laws , at him should aim , Be nought so 'bove him but his sword let claim . Medea make brave with impetuous scorn ; ●no bewail'd ; Ixion false , forsworn ; Poor Io wandring , wild Orestes mad . If something strange , that never yet was had Into the Scene , thou bring'st , and dar'st create A meer new person ; Look he keep his state Into the last , as when he first went forth , Still to be like himself , and hold his worth . 'T is hard , to speak things common , properly ; And thou maist better bring a Rhapsody Of Homers , forth in acts , then of thy own , First publishing things unspoken , and unknown . Yet common matter thou thine own maist make ; If thou be vile , broad-troden ring forsake . For , being a Poet , thou maist feign , create , Not care , as thou wouldst faithfully translate , To render word for word : nor with thy slight Of imitation , leap into a streight , From whence thy Modesty , or Poems law Forbids thee forth again thy foot to draw . Nor so begin , as did that Circler late , I sing a noble Warre , and Priam's Fate . What doth this Promiser such gaping worth Afford ? The Mountains travail'd , and brought forth A scorned Mouse ! O , how much better this , Who nought assays unaptly , or am ss ? Speak to me , Muse , the man , who after Trov was sack't , Saw many Towns , and men , and could their manners tract . He thinks not , how to give you smoak from light , But light from smoak ; that he may draw his bright Wonders forth after : As An●iphates , Scylla , Charybdis , Polypheme , with these . Nor from the brand , with which the life did burn Of Meleager , brings he the return Of Diomede ; nor Troyes sad Warre begins From the two Egges , that did disclose the twins . He ever hastens to the end , and so ( As if he knew it ) raps his hearer to The middle of his matter : letting go What he despairs , being handled , might not show . And so well fains , so mixeth cunningly Falshood with truth , as no man can espy Where the midst differs from the first : or where The last doth from the midst dis-joyn'd appeare . Hear , what it is the People , and I desire : If such a ones applause thou dost require , That tarries till the hangings be ra'en down , And sits , till the Epilogue saies Clap , or Crown : The customs of each age thou must observe , And give their years , and natures , as they swerve , Fit rites . The Child , that now knows how to say , And can tread firm , longs with like lads to play ; Soon angry , and soon pleas'd , is sweet , or sowre , He knows not why , and changeth every houre . Th' unbearded Youth , his Guardian once being gone , Loves Dogs ; and Horses ; and is ever one I' the open field ; Is Wax like to be wrought To every vice , as hardly to be brought To endure counsel : A Provider slow For his own good , a careless letter-go Of money , haughty , to desire soon mov'd , And then as swift to leave what he hath lov'd . These studies alter now , in one , grown man ; His better'd mind seeks wealth , and freindship : than Looks after honours , and bewares to act What straight-way he must labour to retract . The old man many evils do girt round ; Either because he seeks , and , having found , Doth wretchedly the use of things forbear , Or do's all business coldly , and with fear ; A great deserrer , long in hope , grown numbe With sloth , yet greedy still of what 's to come : Froward , complaining , a commender glad Of the times past , when he was a young lad ; And still correcting youth , and censuring . Mans comming years much good with them doe bring : At his departing take much thence : left , then , The parts of age to youth be given ; or men To children ; we must always dwell , and stay In fitting proper adjuncts to each day . The business either on the Stage is done , Or acted told . But , ever , things that run In at the ear , do stir the mind more slow Then those the faithful eyes take in by show , And the beholder to himself doth render . Yet , to the Stage , at all thou maist not tender Things worthy to be done within , but take Much from the sight , which fair report will make Present anon : Medea must not kill Her Sons before the People ; nor the ill ▪ Natur'd , and wicked Atreus cook , to th' eye , His Nephews entrails ; nor must Progne flie Into a Swallow there ; Nor Cadmus take , Upon the Stage , the figure of a Snake . What so is shown , I not believe , and hate . Nor must the Fable , that would hope the Fate Once seen , to be again call'd for , and plaid , Have more or less then just five Acts : nor laid , To have a God come in , except a knot Worth his untying happen there : And not Any fourth man , to speak at all , aspire . An Actors parts , and Office too , the Quire Must maintain manly ; not be heard to sing Between the Acts , a quite clean other thing Then to the purpose leads , and fitly ' grees . It still must favour good men , and to these Be won a friend ; It must both sway , and bed The angry , and love those that fear t' offend . Praise the spare diet , wholesome justice , laws , Peace , and the open ports , that peace doth cause . Hide faults , Pray to the Gods , and wish aloud Fortune would love the poor , and leave the proud . The Hau'-boy , not as now with latten bound , And rival with his Trumpet for his sound , But soft , and simple , at few holes breath'd time And tune too , fitted to the Chorus rime , As loud enough to fill the seats , not yet So over-thick , but , where the people met , They might ' with ease be numbred , being a few Chaste , thrifty , modest folk , that came to view . But , as they conquer'd , and enlarg'd their bound , That wider Walls embrac'd their City round , And they uncensur'd might at Feasts , and Playes Steep the glad Genius in the Wine , whole dayes , Both in their tunes , the license greater grew , And in their numbers ; For , alas , what knew The Ideot , keeping holy-day , or drudge , Clown , Townsman , base , and noble , mix'd , to judge ? Thus , to his antient Art the Piper lent Gesture , and riot , whilst he swooping went In his train'd Gown about the Stage : So grew In time of Tragedy , a Musick new . The rash , and head-long eloquence brought forth Unwonted language ; And that sense of worth That found out profit , and foretold each thing , Now differ'd not from Delphick riddleing . Thespis is said to be the first found out The Tragedy , and carried it about , Till then unknown , in Carts , wherein did ride Those that did sing , and act : their faces dy'd With less of Wine . Next Aeschylus , more late Brought in the Visor , and the robe of State , Built a small timbred Stage , and taught them talk Lofty , and grave ; and in the busk in stalk . He too , that did in Tragick Verse contend , For the vile Goat , soon after , forth did send The rough rude Satyres naked ; and would try , Though sower , with safety of his gravity , How he could jest , because he mark'd and saw The free spectators , subject to no Law , Having well eat , and drunk : the rites being done , Were to be staid with softnesses , and wonne With something that was acceptably new . Yet so the scoffing Satyres to mens view , And so their prating to present was best , And so to turn all earnest into jest , As neither any God , were brought in there , Or Semi-god , that late was seen to weare A royal Crown , and purple ; be made hop With poor base terms , through every baser shop : Or whilst he shuns the Earth , to catch at Air And empty Clouds . For Tragedy is fair , And far unworthy to blurt out light rimes ; But , as a Matron drawn at solemn times To Dance , so she should , shame fac'd , differ farre From what th' obscene , and petulant Satyres are . Nor I , when I write Satyres , will so love Plain phrase , my Piso's , as alone t' approve Meer raigning words : nor will I labour so Q●ite from all face of Tragedy to go , As not make difference , whether Davus speak , And the bold Pythias , having cheated weak Simo ; and , of a talent wip'd his purse ; Or old Silenus , Bacchus Guard , and Nurse . I can out of known gear , a fable frame , And so , as every man may hope the same ; Yet he that offers at it , may sweat much , And toil in vain : the excellence is such Of Order , and Connexion ; so much grace There comes sometimes to things of meanest place . But , let the Faunes , drawn from their Groves , beware , Be I there Judge , they do at no time dare Like men street-born , and neer the Hall , reherse The●r youthful tricks in over wanton verse : Or crac● out bawdy speeches , and unclean . The Roman Gentry , Men of Birth , and Mean Will take offence at this : Nor , though it strike H●m that buys chiches blanch'r , or chance to like The nut crakers throughout , will they therefore Receive , or give it an applause , the more . To these succeeded the old Comoedy , And not w●t●out much praise ; till liberty Fell into fault so far , as now they saw Her licence fit to be restrain'd by law : Which law receiv'd , the Chorus held his peace , His power of fouly hurting made to cease . Two rest 's , a short and long , th' Iambick frame ; A foot , whose swiftness gave the Verse the name Of Trimeter , when yet it was six-pac'd , But meer Iambicks all , from first to last . Nor is 't long since , they did with patience take Into their birth-right , and for fitness sake , The steady Spondaes : so themselves do bear More flow , and come more weighty to the ear : Provided , ne're to yield , in any case Of fellowishp , the fourth , or second place . This foot yet , in the famous Trimeters Of Accius , and Ennius , rare appears : So rare , as with some tax it doth engage Those heavy Verses sent so to the Stage , Of too much haste , and negligence in part , Or a worse Crime , the ignorance of art . But every Judge hath not the faculty To note in Poems , breach of harmony ; And there is given too , unworthy leave To Roman Poets . Shall I therefore weave My Ve●se at random , and licent ously ? Or rather , thinking all my faults may spy , Grow a safe Writer , and be wary-driven Within the hope of having all forgiven . 'T is clear , this way I have got off from blame , But , in conclusion , merited no fame . Take you the Greek examples , for your light , In hand , and turn them over day , and night . Our Ancestors did Plautus numbers praise , And jests ; and both to admiration raise Too patiently , that I not fondly say ; If either you , or I , know the right way To part scurrility from wit : or can A lawful Verse , by th' ear , or singer scan . Our Poets too , left nought unproved here ; Nor did they merit the less Crown to weare , In daring to forsake the Grecian tracts , And celebrating our own home-born facts ; Whether the guarded Tragedy they wrought , Or 't were the gowned Comoedy they taught . Nor had out Italy more glorious bin In vertue , and renown of arms , then in Her language , if the Stay , and Care t' have mended , Had not our every Poet like offended . But you , Pompilius off-spring , spare you not To taxe that Verse , which many a day , and blot Have not kept in , and ( left perfection fail ) Not tent mes o're , corrected to the nail . Because Democritus believes a wit Happier then wretched art , and doth , by it , Exclude all sober Poets , from their share In Helicon ; a great sort will not pare Their nails , nor shave their beards , but to by-paths Retire themselves , avoid the publike baths ; For so , they shall not only gain the worth , Both fame of Poets , they think , if they come forth , And from the Barber Licinus conceal Their heads , which three Antichyra's cannot heal . O I left-witted , that purge every spring For choler ! If I did not , who could bring Out better Poems ? But I cannot buy My title , at the rate ; I 'ad rather , I , Be like a Whet-stone , that an edge can put On steel , though 't self be dull , and cannot cut . I writing nought my self , will teach them yet Their Charge , and Office , whence their wealth to fet , What nourisheth , what formed , what begot The Poet , what becometh , and what not : Whether truth may , and whether error bring . The very root of writing well , and spring Is to be wise ; thy matter first to know ; Which the Socratick writings best can show : And , where the matter is provided still , There words will follow , not against their will. He , that hath studied well the debt , and knowes What to his Country , what his friends he owes , What height of love , a Parent will fit best , What brethren , what a stranger , and his guest , Can tell a State-mans duty , what the arts And office of a Judge are , what the parts Of a brave Chief sent to the wars : He can , Indeed , give fitting dues to every man. And I still bid the learned Maker look , O● life , and manners , and make those his book , Thence draw forth true expressions . For , sometimes , A Poem , of no grace , weight , art , in rimes With specious places , and being humor'd right , More strongly takes the people with delight , And better stayes them there , then all fine noise Of Verse meer-matter-less , and tinckling toies . The Muse not only gave the Greek's a wit , But a well-compass'd mouth to utter it , Being men were covetous of nought , but praise . Our Roman youths they learn the subtle wayes How to divide , into a hundred parts , A pound , or piece , by their long compting arts : There 's Arbin's son will say , Substract an ounce From the five ounces , what remains ? pronounce A third of twelve , you may : four ounces . Glad , He cries , Good boy , thou 'lt keep thine own . Now , add An ounce , what makes it then ? The half pound just ; Six ounces . O , whence once the canker'd rust , And care of getting , thus , our minds hath stain'd , Think we , or hope , there can be Verses fain'd In juyce of Cedar , worthy to be steep'd , And in smooth Cypress boxes to be keep'd ? Poets would either profit , or delight , Or mixing sweet , and fit , teach life the right . Orpheus , a priest , and speaker for the Gods , First frighted men , and wildly liv'd , at ods , From slaughters , and foul life ; and for the same Was Tygers , said , and Lyons fierce , to tame . Amphion too , that built the Theban towers , Was said to move the stones , by his Lutes powers , And lead them with soft songs , where that he would . This was the wisdom , that they had of old , Things sacred , from profane to separate ; The publique , from the private ; to abate Wilde raging lusts ; prescribe the marriage good ; Build Towns , and carve the Laws in leaves of wood . And thus at first , an honour , and a name ▪ To divine Poets , and there Verses came . Next these great Homer , and Tyrtaeus set On edge the Masculine spirits , and did whet Their minds to Wars , with rimes they did rehearse ; The Oracles , too , were given out in Verse ; All way of life was shewn ; the grace of Kings Attempted by the Muses tunes , and strings ; Plays were found out ; and rest , the end , and Crown Of their long labours , was in Verse set down : All which I tell , lest when Apollo's nam'd , Or Muse , upon the Lyre , thou chance b' asham'd . Be brief , in what thou wouldst command , that so The docile mind may soon thy precepts know , And hold them faithfully ; For nothing rests , But flowes out , that ore-swelleth in full brests . Let what thou fain'st for pleasures sake , be neere The truth , nor let thy Fable think , what e're It would , must be : lest it alive would draw The Child , when Lamia ' has din'd , out of her maw . The Poems void of profit , our grave men Cast out by voyces ; want they pleasure , then Our Gallants give them none , but pass them by : But he hath every suffrage can apply Sweet mix'd with sowre , to his Reader , so As doctrine , and delight together go . This book will get the Sosii money ; This Will pass the Seas , and long as nature is , With honour make the far-known Author live . There are yet faults , which we would well forgive ; For , neither doth the String yet yield that sound The hand , and mind would , but it will resound Oft-times a Sharp , when we require a Flat : Nor alwayes doth the loosed Bow , hit that Which it doth threaten . Therefore , where I see Much in the Poem shine , I will not bee Offended with few spots , which negligence Hath shed , or humane frailty not kept thence . How then ? Why , as a Scrivener , if h' offend Still in the same , and warned , will not mend , Deserves no pardon ; or who 'd play , and sing , Is laugh'd at , that still jarreth on one string : So he that flaggeth much , becomes to me A Choerilus , in whom if I but see ' Twice , or thrice good , I wonder : but am more Angry . Sometimes , I hear good Homer snore . But , I confess , that , in a long work , sleep May , with some right , upon an Author creep . As Painting , so is Poesie . Some mans hand Will take you more , the neerer that you stand ; As some the farther off : This loves the dark ; This , fearing not the subtlest Judges mark , Will in the light be view'd : This once , the sight Doth please ; this , ten times over , will delight . You Sir , the elder brother , though you are Informed rightly by your Fathers care , And , of your self too , understand ; yet mind This saying : to some things there is assign'd A mean , and toleration , which does well : There may a Lawyer be , may not excell ; Or Pleader at the Bar , that may come short Of eloquent Messalla's power in Court , Or knows not what Cassellius Aulus can ; Yet , there 's a value given to this man. But neither , Men , nor Gods , nor Pillars meant , Poets should ever be indifferent . As jarring Musique doth , at jolly feasts , Or thick gross O●ntment , but offend the Guests : As Poppy , and Sardane Honey ; 'cause without These ; the free meal might have been well drawn out : 〈◊〉 , any Poem , fancied , or forth-brought 〈◊〉 bettering of the mind of man , in ought , ●●ne're so little it depart the first , ●nd highest , sinketh to the lowest , and worst . He , that not knows the games , nor how to use 〈◊〉 arms in Mars his field , he doth refuse ; 〈◊〉 , who 's unskilful at the Coit , or Ball , 〈◊〉 trundling Wheel , he can sit still , from all ; ●est the throng'd heaps should on a laughter take : ●et who 's most ignorant , dares Verses make . ●hy not ? I 'm gentle , and free-born , do hate ●ice , and , am known to have a Knights estate . ●hou , such thy judgement is , thy knowledge too , ●ilt nothing against nature speak , or do : But , if hereafter thou shalt write , not fear To send it to be judg'd by Metius ear , And , to your Fathers , and to mine ; though 't be Nine years kept in , your papers by , yo' are free To change , and mend , what you not forth do set . The Writ , once out , never returned yet . 'T is now inquir'd , which makes the nobler Verse , Nature , or Art. My Judgement will not pierce Into the Profits , what a meer rude brain Can ; or all toil , without a wealthy vein : So doth the one , the others help require , And friendly should unto one end conspire . He , that 's ambitious in the race to touch The wished goal , both did , and suffered much While he was young ; he sweat , and freez'd again : And both from Wine , and Women did abstain . Who , since , to sing the Pythian rites is heard , Did learn them , first , and once a Master fear'd . But , now , it is enough to say ; I make An admirable Verse . The great Scurf take Him at the last ; I scorn to come behind , Or , of the things , that ne're came in my mind To say , I 'm ignorant . Just as a Crier That to the sale of Wares calls every Buyer ; So doth the Poet , who is rich in land , Or great in money 's out at use , command His flatterers to their gain . But say , he can Make a great Supper ; or for some poor man Will be a surety ; or can help him out Of an entangling suit ; and bring 't about : I wonder how this happy man should know , Whether his soothing friend speak truth , or no. But you , my Piso , carefully beware , ( Whether yo' are given to , or giver are ) You do not bring , to judge your Verses , one , With joy of what is given him , over-gone : For hee 'll cry , Good , brave , better , excellent ! Look pale , distil a showre ( was never meant ) Out at his friendly eyes , leap , beat the groun ' . As those that hir'd to weep at Funerals , swoun , Cry , and do more then the true Mourners : so The Scoffer , the true Praiser doth out-go . Rich men are said with many cups to ply , And rack , with Wine , the man whom they would try , If of their friendship he be worthy , or no : When you write Verses , with your judge do so : Look through him , and be sure , you take not mocks For praises , where the mind conceals a fox . If to Quintilius , you recited ought : He 'd say , Mend this , good friend , and this ; 'T is naught . If you denyed , you had no better strain , And twice , or thrice had ' ssayd it , still in vain : He 'd bid , blot all : and to the anvile bring Those illl-torn'd Verses , to new hammering . Then : If your fault you rather had defend Then change : No word , or work , more would he spend In vain , but you , and yours , you should love still Alone , without a rival , by his will. A wise , and honest man will cry out shame On artless Verse ; the hard ones he will blame ; Blot out the careless , with his turned pen ; Cut off superfluous ornaments ; and when They 're dark , bid clear this : all that 's doubtful wrote Reprove ; and , what is to be changed , note : Become an Aristarchus . And , not say , Why should I grieve my friend , this trifling way ? These trifles into serious m●schiefs lead The man once mock'd , and suffer'd wrong to tread . Wise , sober folk , a frantick Poet feare , And shun to touch him , as a man that were Infected with the leprosie , or had The yellow Jaundies , or were furious mad According to the Moon . But , then the boyes They vex , and follow him with shouts , and noise , The while he belcheth lofty Verses out , And stalketh , like a Fowler , round about , Busie to catch a Black-bird ; if he fall Into a pit , or hole ; although he call , And cry aloud , Help gentle Country-men , There 's none will take the care , to help him then ; For , if one should , and with a rope make haste To let it down , who knows , if he did cast Himself there purposely , or no ; and would Not thence be sav'd , although indeed he could ? I 'le tell you but the death , and the disease Of the Sicilian Poet Empedocles ; He , while he labour'd to be thought a God Immortal , took a melancholique odd Conceipt , and into burning Aetna leap't . Let Poets perish , that will not be kept . He that preserves a man , against his will , Doth the same thing with him , that would him kill . Nor did he do this once ; for if you can Recal him yet , he 'ld be no more a man : Or love of this so famous death lay by . His cause of making Verses none knows why ; Whether he piss'd upon his Fathers grave ; Or the sad thunder-stroken thing he have Defiled , touch'd ; but certain he was mad , And , as a Bear ; if he the strength but had To force the grates , that hold him in , would fright All ; So this grievous Writer puts to flight Learn'd and unlearn'd ; holding , whom once he takes ; And , there an end of him , reciting makes : Not letting going his hold , where he draws food , Till he drop off , a Horse-leech , full of blood . FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A44478-e3350 * Other names of Bacchus . * Ganymed . Honor sit auribus . Notes for div A44478-e66170 * Earthen . Notes for div A44478-e129340 * Ulysses , * The Romans adored Vacation as a Goddess , by the Name of Vacuna . 
A44471	----	The Odes, Satyrs, and Epistles of Horace Done into English. Selections. English. 1688. Horace. 1684 Approx. 580 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 205 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2006-02 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A44471 Wing H2774A ESTC R216475 99828206 99828206 32633 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A44471) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 32633) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1949:2) The Odes, Satyrs, and Epistles of Horace Done into English. Selections. English. 1688. Horace. Creech, Thomas, 1659-1700. [16], 183, [1], 369-432, 449-480, 465-570, [4] p., [2] plates printed for Jacob Tonson, and sold by Tim. Goodwin at the Maiden-head against St. Dunstans Church in Fleetstreet, London : 1684. "To the very much esteemed John Dryden, Esq." signed by the translator, Thomas Creech. Text continuous despite pagination. With two final advertisment leaves (for Jacob Tonson) at end. A variant has an engraving of two figures and a winged child on the verso of A, and pagination: [14], 183, [1], 369-432, 449-570 p.; the text is the same. Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. 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Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Latin poetry -- Translations into English -- Early works to 1800. 2005-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2005-08 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-10 Jonathan Blaney Sampled and proofread 2005-10 Jonathan Blaney Text and markup reviewed and edited 2006-01 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Non usitatâ nec tenui ferar Pennâ biformis per liquidum aethere Vates M Burghers delin . et sculp . THE ODES , SATYRS , AND EPISTLES OF HORACE . Done into English . Qui cupit optatam Cursu contingere metam , Multa Tulit fecitque Puer : — LONDON , Printed for Jacob Tonson , and Sold by Tim. Goodwin at the Maiden-head against St. Dunstans Church in Fleetstreet , 1684. To the very much Esteemed JOHN DRYDEN , Esq . 'T Is pretended by every one that chooseth a Patron , that either the Worth or good Nature of the Person hath determined him to that choice ; He professeth that He hath very mean thoughts of his own performance , and so stands in need of a Protector : He begs a Name whose Luster might shed some Reputation on his Work , or else hath been oblig'd , and bound in gratitude to make this publick acknowledgment of the goodness of the Man. How eminently . You Sir , are endow'd with the first qualification of a Patron every one knows too well to need information ; and where can this trifle find a Corner that hath not been fill'd with Mr. Dryden's name ? 'T is You , Sir , that have advanc'd our Dramatick to its height , and show'd that Epick Poetry is not confin'd to Italy and Greece : That You are honored by the best , and envy'd by others , proclaims Excellency and Worth ; For True Honor is built only upon perfection And Envy , as it is as sharp sighted , so 't is as soaring as an Eagle , and who ever saw it stoop at a Sparrow or a Wren ? And that Candor and Goodness have the greatest share in your Composition , I dare appeal to every one whom You have any way honored with your Conversation ; These so fill your Mind , that there is no room left for Pride , or any disobliging quality : This appears from the Encouragement You are ready to give any tolerable attempts , and reach out a helping hand to all those who endeavour to climb that height where You are already seated : E'en this own̄ its completion to those smiles which You condescended to bestow upon some parts of it , and now ventures to appear a second time where at first it found a favourable Entertainment : 'T is Horace , Sir , whom You have thought worthy your Study and Imitation , that flys to You for Protection , and perhaps will beg it against the Injuries I my self have done him ; You Sir are best acquainted with the difficulties of the Undertaking , can most easily discover , and as easily pardon the defects of SIR , Your most Obliged Humble Servant , Thomas Creech . Oxon. All Souls Coll. May 25 th . 1684. Preface . QUintilian in the First Book of his Institutions instructs the Young Orator what to read , and after Homer and Virgil are chiefly commended to his Study ; He tells him , That considerable improvement may be made from the Lyrick Poets , but there is great Care to be taken in the choice , some select parts only out of each Author to be permitted Youths : And he says particularly of Horace , That He would not have all in Him interpreted : What He means by Interpretation , is evident to every one that understands the Extent of the word , and the Antients Method of instructing : and why this Caution is restrain'd to the Odes , and not apply'd to the Satyrs as well , since the reason upon which He fixes it seems common to both must be taken from the design and subject matter of the Poems ; To describe and reform a vitious man , necessarily requires some expressions which an Ode can never want : The Paint which an Artist uses must be agreeable to the Piece which He designs ; Satyr is to instruct , and that supposeth a knowledge and discovery of the Crime ; Whilst Odes are made only to delight and please , and therefore every thing in them that justly offends is unpardonable . In our Common Schools this Rule of Quintilian is grievously neglected , all is permitted to every Eye , and laid open to the dullest sight by the most shameful Notes that can be pen'd : You may see a Grammarian with a demure mouth cry out , O Foedum ! at a loose expression , and yet presently fill a Page with a more fulsom explication ; and the design of all his pains is only to indulge a petulant Humor , or assist the lazy Ignorance of the common Instructors of our Youth : If any should reckon this amongst the considerable Causes of the Corruptions of our Manners , certainly all those would assent , who see that a Stream will be foul when the Fountain it self is muddy : Nor is this a single opinion , as is evident from their happy industry , who have corrected some of our Authors , and sent them abroad naked , and uncorrupted with forreign Notes ; This Method as it spares the Modesty of the Youth , so it must be a considerable improvement to his Parts , since his Mind and Memory , and not only his Eye must be employ'd : I am bound thankfully to acknowledg the Pious Care of Mr. Thomas Curganven , now of Shirburn in Dorsetshire , in this matter , He did not want , or if he had , His Vertue and Industry had contemn'd , such helps , having searcht into the Secrets of the Classicks , and being an excellent Example of unweary'd Diligence , and regular Carriage to All under his Tuition : To his Instruction I owe what at present I understand of these Books , and to his Rules my hopes of future Attainments : The same Principles made me Cautious of some Odes , tho I have past by three more upon a different account . This just debt being paid to my Honored Instructer , the part that concerns my self , Reader , will give Thee little trouble : I cannot choose but smile now and then to think that I who have not Musick enough to understand one Note , and too little ill Nature ( for that is commonly thought a necessary ingredient ) to be a Satyrist , should venture upon Horace : 'T is certain our Language is not Capable of the numbers of the Poet , and therefore if the Sense of the Author is deliver'd , the variety of Expression kept , ( which I must despair of after Quintilian hath assur'd us that he is most happily bold in his words ) and his Fancy not debas'd , ( for I cannot think my self able to improve Horace ) 't is all that can be expected from a Version ; This the Admirable Cowly consider'd when he undertook Pindar , and hath drawn a short and full Apology for the like undertakings : We must consider , says He , the great difference of time betwixt his Age , and ours : which changes , as in Pictures , at least the Colors of Poetry ; the no less difference betwixt the Religions and Customs of our Countrys , a Thousand particularities of Places , Persons and Manners , which do but confusedly appear to our Eyes at this distance ; and lastly ( which were enough alone for my purpose ) we must consider that our Ears are Strangers to the Musick of his numbers , which sometimes , ( especially in Songs and Odes ) almost without any thing else makes an excellent Poet : 'T is true he improves this consideration , and urges it as concluding against all strict and faithful versions ; in which I must beg leave to dissent , thinking it better to convey down the Learning of the Antients , than their empty sound suited to the present times , and show the Age their whole substance , rather than their thin Ghost imbody'd with some light Air of my own : As for ill Nature , Horace requires none , nay disclaims it in a Satyrist ; his sharpest touches , if we believe both himself , and those that best understood him , are innocent Waggery , admissus circum praecordia ludit , He endeavours to laugh men out of their Vices , and doth not lance or cauterize the sores , but tickles till He heals ; and how much this method surpasses the rougher handling , every one may imagine who knows that 't is more grievous to any man to be Ridicul'd than beaten ; and who is there that would not rather appear in Company with a black Eye , than a smutted Face ? Some few advis'd me to turn the Satyrs to our own Times , they said that Rome was now rivall'd in her Vices , and Parallels for Hypocrisie , Profaneness , Avarice and the like were easie to be found ; But those Crimes are much out of my acquaintance , and since the Character is the same whoever the Person is , I am not so fond of being hated as to make any disobliging applications : Such pains would look like an impertinent labor to find a dunghill , only that I might satisfy an unaccountable humor of dirting one Man's Face , and bespattering another : Some have taken this way , and the ill-Nature of the World hath conspir'd to think their rudeness Wit ; All their smartness proceeds from a sharp Humor in their Body , which falls into their Pen , and if it drops upon a Man's Reputation that is as bright and solid as polisht Steel , it sullys it presently , and eats thro . Such are never lov'd , or prais'd , but shun'd and fear'd , like Mad-Dogs , for their Teeth and Foam ; and are excellently represented by Luca's Basilisk , Who drives all other Serpents from the Plains , And all alone in the vast Desart reigns . What I have borrow'd from others , if ever I have stock enough , I will honestly endeavour to repay ; But the debt which I have contracted from my Lord Roscommon is so vast , that I shall never be able to discharge ; To his admirable Version I must gratefully acknowledge , That I owe the sence , and the best lines in the Art of Poetry . THE ODES OF HORACE . The First Book . ODE I. To MECAENAS . Several Men have several Delights , Lyrick Poetry is his . MECAENAS born of Royal Blood , My joy , my guard , and sweetest good ; Some love with rapid wheels to raise Olympian dust , and gather praise ; Where Races won , and Palms bestow'd , Do lift a King into a God : And some in high Commands are proud , That great preferment of the Crowd ; Blown by their breath the Bubble flies Gaz'd at a while ; then breaks and dies : Another ploughs his Fathers Fields , His Barn holds all that Lybia yields ; And hopes of Wealth and Worlds of Gain , Shall never tempt him from the Plain ; Or draw his fearful Soul to ride In feeble Ships , and stem the Tide : The Merchants tost in angry Seas , That praise their fields , and quiet ease , Yet rigg their tatter'd Ships once more , Untaught , unable to be poor : Some underneath a Myrtle shade , Or by smooth Springs supinely laid , With Mirth , and Wine , and wanton Play , Contract the business of the Day : Shrill Trumpet 's sounds and noisy Wars , That Mothers hate , please other Ears : The Hunter doth his ease forgoe , He lies abroad in Frost , in Snow ; He soon forgets his pleasing Wife , And all the soft delights of Life , Whilst faithful Hounds a Deer pursue , Or have a raging Bore in view : The purling streams and shady grove The Nymphs and Satyrs dance , and Love , Green Ivy Crowns that only spread Fresh Honors round a learned head , Shall raise my Name above the Crowd , And lift me up into a God ; If Muses kind shall string my Lyre , Or Tune my Pipe , and heats inspire : If You , my Lord , approve my vein , And count me ' mongst the Lyrick train , Secure from Death I 'le proudly rise And hide my head in lofty Skies . ODE II. To AUGUSTUS . Rome hath smarted for killing Caesar , and all their Hopes are in Augustus . ENough of Thunder , mighty Jove , Enough thy flaming Arm has thrown , Enough hath torn the sacred Grove , Enough amaz'd the frighted Town : Lest Purrha's age return'd they fear'd Strange Age , when from the former floods Old Proteus drove his scaly Herd To visit Hills , and glide in Woods : The Fishes hung on lofty boughs , Those Seats well known to Doves before , The spreading Waves snatcht trembling Does , They swam , and look't in vain for shore . We saw swoln Tiber backward flow , And from the Tuscan waves retire ; The Monuments of Kings o'rethrow , And hiss in Vesta's sacred fire : Whilst He too too Uxorious flood Swoln big with fury cuts along The left-hand banks , though Jove withstood , To right Complaining Ilia's wrong . The Youth shall hear that impious steel Against our selves we madly drew , Which better haughty Medes should feel , The Youth our faults have left but few . What God to prop the falling State Shall we invoke with earnest Prayers ? How shall our Virgins soften fate , And weary Vesta's deafned Ears ? And whom to expiate Caesar's blood Will Jove appoint ? Apollo come , O're thy bright shoulders cast a cloud , And kindly succour guilty Rome . Or Venus fair , whom Joys attend , Whom Youth flies round , and smiling Grace ; Or Father Mars at last descend , And pity thy decaying Race . Oh long , too long thy fierce delight Hath glutted Thee , whom Wars do please With Darts and Spears , and stern in fight The frightful Moors unlearn'd in ease . Or whether chang'd to Mortal Eys You seem a Youth , Kind winged God , Nor dost the friendly name despise Of the Avenger of our Caesar's blood . Oh Late may You return to Jove , May quiet Days extend thy reign , Nor vext at Us in hast remove To visit happy seats again . Our Empires Father , Prince , and Guide , In Triumphs live ; Nor let the Medes Proud in our Spoyls , unpunisht ride Whilst Mighty Caesar bravely leads . ODE III. To VIRGIL , Taking a Voyage to Athens . SO may kind Venus guide thy Sails , So Helen's Brothers shining Stars , Secure thee from thy fears : So Eol loose the Southern gales , And all the other Winds controul ; As Thou dost waft my Virgil o're , And land him on the Attick shore ; Preserving half my Soul. His Heart was Brass , who first did dare In feeble Ships to stem the Seas , Who weeping Hyades And Monsters saw , nor stoop't to bear . Who saw the headlong Whirlwinds fight , And South-winds rage , that best can raise Or smooth the Adriatick Seas , Nor dy'd at such a sight . What Face of Death can move his fears , That saw with an undaunted Eye Vast Rocks and Waves as high : And could restrain his flowing tears ? In vain the Gods designd , in vain , In vain they did the Lands divide By an unfriendly Tide , If impious Ships can cross the Main . Man forc't by an imperious Will , Do's make all hast to be undone , And very eagerly rush on To court forbidden Ill. Prometheus brought Celestial fire , Which first by wicked Arts He stole , To give his Clay a Soul , And kindle this absurd desire . But Vengeance soon pursu'd deceit , For thence began an unknown disease , Thence cruel Feavers first did seize , And took their fatal Heat . Then lazy Death did mend her pace , Our Life contracted to a span , Death came in hast on Man , And stopt his yet unfinisht race . With Wings which Nature's Laws deny , First Doedalus did boldly dare To beat the Empty Air , And wander thro the liquid Sky . Thro Hell the fierce Alcides ran , He scorn'd the stubborn chains of Fate , And rudely broke the Brazen Gate ; Nought is too hard for Man. Grown Giants in Impiety , Our Impious folly dares the Sky , We dare assault Jove's glorious Throne , Nor , still averse to his command , Will we permit his lifted Hand To lay his Thunder down . ODE IV. He adviseth his Friend to live merrily . SHarp Winter Melts , Favonius spreads his wing , A pleasing change , and bears the Spring : Dry Ships drawn down from stocks now plow the Main , And spread their greedy Sails again : Nor Stalls the Ox , nor Fires the Clowns delight , And Fields have lost their hoary white : The Nymphs and Graces joyn'd through flowry Meads By Moon-light dance , and Venus leads : Whilst labouring Cyclops furious Vulcan tires , And heats their Forge with raging fires : Now crown'd with Myrtle , crown'd with rising Flowers From loosned Fields drive easie hours ; A Lamb to Faunus , if he most approves A Kid , a Kid must stain the Groves : With equal foot , Rich friend , impartial Fate Knocks at the Cottage , and the Palace Gate : Life's span forbids Thee to extend thy Cares , And stretch thy Hopes beyond thy Years : Night soon will seize , and , You must quickly go To story'd Ghosts , and Pluto's house below , Where once arriv'd , adieu to Wine and Love , And all the soft Delights above : No Feasts , where Thee the happy Lot may place The Just Disposer of the Glass : No Lycidas , no fair surprizing Boy , Or to admire , or to enjoy : No Lycidas , who now our Youth do's charm , And soon shall all our Virgins warm . ODE V. He rejoyces at his deliverance from his bewitching Mistriss . WHat tender Youth upon a Rosy bed With Odours flowing round his head Shall ruffle Thee , and loose a heart ? For what fond Youth wilt Thou prepare The lovely Mazes of thy Hair , And spread Charms neat without the help of Art ? How oft unhappy shall he grieve to find The fickle baseness of your Mind ? When he that ne're felt storms before Shall see black Heaven spread o're with Clouds , And threatning Tempests toss the Floods , Whilst Helpless He in vain looks back for Shore . Now fondly , now He rifles all thy Charms , He wantons in thy pleasing Arms And boasts his happiness Compleat : He thinks that You will alwaies prove As fair , and constant to his Love ; And knows not how , how soon those smiles may cheat . Ah wretched those who love , yet ne're did try The smiling treachery of thy Eye ! But I 'me secure , my danger 's o're , My Table shows the Cloaths I vow'd When midst the storm to please the God I have hung up , and now am safe on shore . ODE VI. To AGRIPPA . Varius may record his great Actions , but Love must be the subject of his Songs . THee great in Arms shall Varius sing , In Conduct wise and bold in fight ; What Conquests under your Command , The Legions wan by Sea and Land , The same shall boldly write With quils that dropt from lofty Homer's wing : My tender Verse must Wars refuse ; Spears , Trophys , and the armed field , The fierce Pelides haughty rage That still prest forward to engage , And knew not how to yield , Are things too weighty for my feeble Muse : Strict Modesty confines my Tongue , And shame forbids me to disgrace A subject high , so near divine As mighty Caesar's praise and thine , And your great names debase By the officious meanness of a Song : For who in worthy strains can write Mars dreadful in his Iron Coat ? Or show the black Merione In Trojan dust severely gay ? Or how Tydides fought By Pallas aid , and matcht the Gods in fight ? I sing soft Boys and Virgin 's Wars , How soon they smile , how angry soon With close par'd nails , and tender tooth They all invade the ruffling Youth ; Thus urge my frolick on And bid farewell , a long farewel to Cares . ODE VII . He commends Plancus his Seat , and adviseth him to enjoy his Life . SOme Mytelen , or famous Rhodes will praise , Or two-sea'd Corinth's honor raise ; Some Thebes for Bacchus fam'd in sounding strains , Or flowry Tempe's open Plains : Some fill their lasting Verse with high renown Of Virgin Pallas learned town ; And whilst they studiously their praise bestow , To All prefer the Olive bough : To honor Juno , Argos some proclaim , Or raise Mycaene , high in fame ; Not patient Sparta , Tempe's fruitful Fields , Nor all that fat Larissa yields , Can raise my fancy ; no , I all contemn Compar'd to fair Albunea's stream ; My water'd Orchards , headlong Anio's flood , Or quiet Tibur's shady wood : As fair South-winds will brush the Clouds away , Nor alwaies brood a rainy day , So Plancus , You , what ever life you lead , Or play at home in Tybur's shade , Or fill the shining Camp , and lead the War , With Wine still wisely end thy Care : When Teucer fled distrest by angry fate , His Country , and his Father's hate , With poplar Crowns He grac't his drunken head , And thus to drooping Friends he said , What ever Chance , the kinder Parent sends , Wee 'l bravely bear my noble Friends : Adieu fond Care , despairing fears be gone Whilst Teucer guides , and leads you on : Unerring Phoebus says our hands shall raise A City in another place , Another Salamis : Cheer , rouze your force , For We have often suffer'd worse : Drink briskly round , dispell all cloudy sorrow , Drink round , Wee 'l plow the Deep to morrow . ODE VIII . To LYDIA , Who had made Lybaris Effeminate . TEll , Lydia , tell me this , By all the Gods I do conjure Thee tell Why Thou wilt ruine Lybaris By loving of the Youth too well : Why doth He hate the Plain That can endure the fury of the Skies , The burning Sun , the Wind and Rain : By Nature fitted for the Prize ? Why now refuse to ride Amidst his Equals , and with graceful force The fury of his Coarser guide , And bravely sit the manag'd Horse ? Why Yellow Tyber's stream Doth He now hate ? why fear to touch the flood , And why the shining Oyl contemn With greater care than Viper's blood ? Why do his Arms no more Look black with blows and honourable scars Which once with just applause He bore , When Fame attended on his Wars ? So justly prais'd for Art , So fam'd for strength , when thro the wondring throng Beyond the bounds he threw the Dart , Which swiftly bore his praise along . Why doth he now lie hid , As once complying with his Mother's fears The Great , the Brave Achilles did , Lest Manly dress should force him on to Wars ? ODE IX . He adviseth his Friend to live merrily . SEE how the Hills are white with Snow , The Seas are rough , the Woods are tost , The Trees beneath their burthen bow , And purling streams are bound in frost . Dissolve the Cold with noble Wine , Dear Friend , and make a rouzing fire , ' Gainst Cold without , and Care within , Let both with equal force conspire . With all things else , come , trust the Gods , Who when they shall a calm restore , And still the storms that toss the floods ; Old Oaks , and Ashes shake no more . All Cares , and Fears are fond and vain , Fly vexing thoughts of dark to-morrow ; What Chance scores up , count perfect gain , And banish business , banish sorrow . Whilst Thou art green , and gay , and Young , E're dull Age comes , and strength decays , Let mirth , and humor , dance , and song Be all the trouble of thy days . The Court , the Mall , the Park , and Stage , With eager thoughts of Love pursue ; Gay Evening whispers fit thy Age , And be to Assignation true . Now Love to hear the hiding Maid , Whom Youth hath fir'd , and Beauty charms By her own tittering laugh betray'd , And forc'd into her Lover's Arms. Go dally with thy wanton Miss , And from the Willing seeming Coy , Or force a Ring , or steal a Kiss ; For Age will come , and then farewel to joy . ODE X. In praise of Mercury . SWeet smooth-tongu'd God , wise Atlas Son , Whose Voice did mould Mens flinty hearts , Just risen from their Parent stone , By softning Musick , and instructing Arts. Thee , Thee my Muse shall gladly sing Thee Post of Heaven , and Guard of Hell ; First Mover of the charming string ; By waggish Thievery cunning to conceal . Unless you would restore the Cows Whilst with his voice He dar'd the Child , And threatned with his angry brows , Now He had lost his Bow , Apollo smil'd . Rich Priam with a Pious hast Whilst You did guide his trembling feet , Thessalian fires securely past ; The Camp , and proud Atrides haughty Fleet. You gently guide the Pious Souls To happy Seats ; Your golden rod The flitting Troop controuls ; O lov'd , Above , Below , by every God. ODE XI . He adviseth his Friend to live merrily , and take no Care for to morrow . AH do not strive too much to know My dear Luconoe , What the kind Gods design to do VVith Me and Thee . Ah do not You consult the Stars , Contented bear thy doom , Rather than thus increase thy fears For what will come : Whether they 'l give one Winter more , Or else make this thy last ; Which breaks the Waves on Tyrrhene shore With many a blast , Be Wise , and Drink ; cut off long Cares From thy contracted Span , Nor stretch extensive hopes and fears Beyond a Man : E'en whil'st we speak the Envious time Doth make swift hast away , Then seize the present , use thy prime , Nor trust another Day . ODE XII . To AUGUSTUS . WHat Man , what Hero , stately Muse , Wilt thou deliver down to Fame ? What God for thy great Subject choose ? And make the wanton Echo sport his Name O're Helicon's resounding Grove , O're Pindus , or cold Hoemus hill ? Whence list'ning Woods did gladly move And throng'd to hear sweet Orpheus wondrous quill . He by his Mothers art could bind The headlong fury of the floods ; Allay rough storms , appease the wind , And loose from their fixt roots the dancing woods . Whom first ? shall I creating Jove With pious duty gladly sing , That guides below , and rules above , The great Disposer , and the mighty King ? Than He none greater , next him none That can be , is , or was : Supreme he singly fills the Throne ; Yet Pallas is allow'd the nearest place . Thy praises , Bacchus , bold in VVar , My willing Muse will gladly show , And , Virgin , Thee whom Tygers fear ; And Phoebus dreadful for unerring Bow. Alcides Acts my Muse must write , And Leda's Sons ; one fam'd for Horse , And one in close and handy fight Of haughty bravery , and of noble force . When both their Stars at once appear , The Winds are husht , they rage no more ; ( It is their Will ) the Skies are clear , And Waves roul softly by the quiet shore . Shall Romulus stand next to These ? Or furious Tarquin's haughty reign ? Or , Numa's Laws and pious Peace ? Or Cato's noble fall , and fierce disdain ? The Scauri next , the Great , the Good ? Or Regulus his constant Truth ? Or Paulus prodigal of his blood VVhen Hannibal o'rethrew the Roman Youth ? Or shall I sing in lasting Verse Fabricius Mind too great for Gold ? Or else rough Curius Praise reherse In conduct prudent , and in action bold ? Him and Camillus fam'd for War , In a poor house , and mean estate Want poorly bred on hardy fare , And made them strong to prop Rome's sinking Fate . Marcellus like an Oak doth rise , And Julius Caesar's light appears As in fair Nights and smiling Skies The beauteous Moon amid'st the meaner Stars . Great Saturn's Off-spring , mighty Jove , Whose greatest care is Caesar's fate ; Serenely You may reign above , VVhilst here Augustus keeps the second state . And whether He in triumph leads The Parthians that on Latium prest ; Or beats the Indians and the Medes , And spoils the distant Nations of the East , He less than Thou , rules all below , Whilst Thy hot Wheels may shake the Clouds , And dreadful Thunder fiercely throw On Groves prophan'd , and on unhallow'd Woods . ODE XIII . His Jealousie occasions his disquiet . VVHen Lydia praises Damon's Charms , His rosy Neck , and waxen Arms , His Air , and rowling Ey ; My Mind scarce thinks on what it does , My sickly Colour comes and goes ; I rage , I burn , I dy : I lose my former vital Grace , And tears steal softly down my face ; Cold feeble Sweats begin , Cold feeble Sweats that plainly show How fierce the Flame , and yet how slow That melts my Soul within : I rage to see thy Shoulder stand , Or snowy Breast by drunken hand Too lovingly unkind ; Or when the ruffling Amorous youth Hath prest thy Lips with eager Tooth , And left a Mark behind : Coy Lydia , all thy hopes are vain Still to endure the pleasing pain Of a surprizing Kiss , Which Venus doth in Nectar steep , And hangs upon the balmy Lip , To draw us on to Bliss . Thrice happy They , that free from strife Maintain a Love as long as life ; Whose fixt and bending vows , No intervening Jealousie , No Fears and no Debates untye ; And Death alone can loose . ODE XIV . To the Common-wealth which was now ready to engage in another Civil War. ANd shall the raging Waves again Bear Thee back into the Main ! Oh what dost do ! put close to shore , And never trust the Ocean more : Thy Oars are gon , and Southern blasts Have rent thy Sails , and torn thy Masts ; Nor without tackling can'st thou brave The violent fury of the Wave : Thy Stern is gone , thy Gods are lost , And thou hast none to hear thy cry , When thou on dangerous Shelves art tost , When Billows rage , and Winds are high : Thô thou art built of noble Wood , And gay as ever cut the Flood ; Alas ! 't is but an empty Name , Nor will the Seas regard thy Fame : What fearful Seaman dares rely On Gilded Sterns when Winds are high ? Vain show , not fit to sail but please , An easie prev to angry Seas : Tho often , Thou hast safely past , Thou ow'st a sport to Winds at last : Oh lately Thou my grief and fear , And now my fresh and present Care , Take heed , and fly the flattering Seas Between the shining Cyclades . ODE XV. Nereus sings the Fall of Troy occasion'd by Paris 's Rape of Helen . VVHen faithless Paris stole away , And carry'd Helen thro the Sea ; Then Nereus still'd the Wind : He quieted the angry Seas , And lull'd the Billows into ease , Ease to the Lovers hast unkind . Whilst thus he sang , Thou carry'st home Thine own , false Youth and Country's doom ; VVhom Greeks shall fetch again VVith all their force ; and all combine To break that wicked Match of thine , And Ancient Priam's noble reign . VVhat labor , ah ! what dust and heat ! And how the Men , and Horses sweat ! Ah Troy what Fates engage ! E'en furious Pallas now prepares Her Helmet and her Shield for VVars ; Her dreadful Chariot , and her Rage . In vain shalt thou thy safety place In Venus aid , and paint thy face ; In vain adorn thy hair ; In vain thy feeble Harp shalt move , And sing soft tales of easie Love , To please the wanton and the fair . In vain shalt Thou avoid thy Foe , The winged Dart , and Cretan Bow , Things grievous to thy joys : In vain with grief shalt fear to view Stout Ajax eager to pursue , And strive to fly the hated noise . But ah too late , ah much too late Thou shalt endure the stroak of Fate , And find the Gods are just : Too late Thou shalt deserv'dly feel The force of the revenging steel , And soyl th' Adulterous locks in dust . Dost Thou not see grave Nestor's age , And fierce Ulysses wilely rage , The ruine of thy State ? Nor Teucer's brave undaunted force Nor Stheneleus that drives his Horse As furious and as fast as Fate ? Ah Thou shalt see Merione In Trojan dust severely gay ; And fierce Tydides rave ; Look how he frowns , and roves about To find the Feeble Paris out ; Tydides , as his Father brave . These feeble Paris thou shalt fly As trembling Does whose fears espy A Lion in a Grove ; They leave their Herbs , with panting Breath , They strive to shun pursuing Death ; Was this thy Promise to Thy Love ! Achilles angry for a Wrong Shall Troyes approaching Fate prolong ; But after certain years Thessalian Flames and Grecian Fire Shall o're the proudest Piles aspire : And fill the Matrons Eyes with Tears : ODE XVI . A Recantation for a Copy of Iambicks written on a young Lady . OH Daughter fair , of greater Charms Than those with which thy Mother warms , My guilty Verses how you please Destroy , in Flames ( thô scarce so hot As that fierce rage with which I wrote ) Or in the angry Seas . Not Cybele such heat inspires Ne're Phoebus with such raging fires His Prophet's Soul possess 't , Not Bacchus self can raise a Man Half so much as Anger can When once it burns the Breast : Not Tears nor Kindness can asswage , Nor Force nor Danger curb the rage , It ventures boldly on ; It scorns to be confin'd by Jove , Or all the Thund'ring Powers above , But by its boundless self alone . When Bold Prometheus first began , As Story goes , to make a Man From every thing He snatcht a part To furnish out his Clay And to compleat his rude essay , And plac't a Lions fury in the Heart . 'T was Rage that made the Brothers hate , Rage wrought Thyestes wond'rous fate ; 'T was Rage that kill'd the Child ; That fed the Father with the Son , And when it saw the mighty Mischief done , Stood by , and ( what was strange ) it smil'd . 'T is that that raises all our Wars , And brings our Dangers and our Fears , When the insulting Foe Whil'st Anger burns , and Rage prevails O're Town and Cities ruin'd Walls Doth draw the heavy Plough . Then curb thy Anger charming Maid , That once my heedless Youth betray'd , It rais'd a deadly flame ; And hurry'd on my thought-less Muse In swift Iambicks to abuse And wanton with thy fame . But now I do repent the wrong , And now compose a softer Song To make Thee just amends : Recant the Errors of my Youth , And swear those scandals were not Truth ; So You and I be friends . ODE XVII . He Commends his Country Seat , and invites his Mistriss thither . SWift Faunus oft Lyceum leaves behind , And to my pleasing Farm retreats ; And from the Summer heats Defends my Goats , and from the rainy wind . O're Vales , o're craggy Rocks , and Hills they stray , Seek flowry Thyme , and safely brouze And wanton in the boughs ; Nor fear an angry Serpent in the way . No lurking Venom swells the harmless mould , The Kids are safe , the tender Lambs Lie bleating by their Dams , Nor hear the Evening Wolves grin round the fold . Soft rural Lays thro every Vally sound ; By low Ustica's purling Spring The Shepherds pipe and sing , Whilst from the even Rocks the tunes rebound . Kind Heaven defends my soft aboads , I live the Gods peculiar Care , Secure and free from fear ; My Songs and my Devotion please the Gods. Here naked Truth , Love , Peace , good Nature reign , And here to Thee shall Plenty flow , And all her Riches show To raise the honor of the quiet Plain . Here crooked Vales afford a cool retreat ; Or underneath an Arbor's shade For Love and Pleasure made , Thou shalt avoid the Dog-Star's raging heat ; And sweetly sing the harmless Wars of Love , How , chast Penelope's desires , And wanton Circe's fires With various heats for one Ulysses strove : At Noon with Wine the fiery beams asswage Beneath a shade on beds of Grass ; And take a Chirping glass , But never drink till Mirth boils up to rage . Ne're fear thy old Gallant , He 's far away , He shall not see , nor seize , nor tear Thy Chaplet from thy Hair ; We shall have leisure , and have room to play . ODE XVIII . Wine moderately taken cheers the Mind , but too much makes men mad . DEar Varus urge thy wise design , And chiefly plant the noble Vine In Tibur's fertile shade , Or round Catilles Wall , The sober Dotards Cares invade , And numerous mischiefs wait on all . Pale Cares are rude , And must intrude Untill forgetful Cups go round ; And who in drink doth prate of Wars , Of Want , or State affairs ? Each head is free , and busie thoughts are drown'd ; But Mirth , and Women , Sport , and Play Is all the trouble of the Day . But lest thy growing Mirth surpass The moderate freedom of a merry glass ; Think on the Centaurs blood , Think how those Beasts did fight , With Wine and G , ore their Tables flow'd ; And then command thy Appetite . What wild desires , What Madness fires The Thracian Bruits ; how fierce a God , When Drunken They all Right and Just Do measure by their Lust , And eagerly rush on to brawls and blood ? Attending Death strikes every Guest , And none survive the fatal Feast . Submitting to thy easie yoke I 'le freely use , but ne'r provoke Thy rage , obliging God ; Nor shall my Tongue reveal To the prophane and common Crowd The mysteries thy boughs conceal : Preserve my Age From drunken Rage Which blind Self-love does still attend , With Vanity which loves to spread Her Plumes , and raise her Head Above the Common level of her Friend ; With these with an uneven pace Walks broaken Faith which lets all Secrets pass , Much more transparent than a glass . ODE XIX . To GLYCERA . He confesseth his Love. THe cruel Mother of Desires And wanton Youth reproves , And bids me rais'd by Bacchus Fires Restore my self to my forsaken Loves : Fair Glycera my wish provokes More white than polisht Marble Stone , Inviting coy , and slippery looks , Coy looks , too slippery to be gaz'd upon . Now Venus leaves her Cyprian Seats , And fills my Soul with all her heats ; Bids me not mind the Parthian force , When dreadful on his Flying Horse He makes his proud , and conquering retreats . All that I think on must be Love ; Bring Wine , my Boys , an Altar rear , A tender Lamb perhaps may move ; And make the angry Goddess less severe . ODE XX. He invites Mecaenas to take a Bottle of Wine at his house . POor Sabine Wine in Cups as poor Is all my present store ; 'T was bottled then , when You , my Lord , In crowded Theaters ador'd Smooth Tyber's Banks around Return'd the joyful sound , And babling Eccho's the glad shouts restor'd . Rich Casks from the Colenian Vine , Or smooth Caecubian Wine Your Cellar store ; but meaner juice Contented I must humbly use ; My Cups the Formian Hill Nor the Falernian fill ; 'T is Wealth 's great priviledge to be profuse . ODE XXI . He exhorts the Boys and Maids to sing Apollo 's and Diana 's praise . YE tender Maids Diana sing ; Apollo Praise Ye rising Boys , And both to equal Honors bring ; Latone too whom mighty Jove Did deeply love , And show the pious duty of your joys . Diana sing , Diana loves The purling Springs that softly flow , The pleasing Woods and quiet Groves That shady Erymanthus bears , Or Cragis rears , Or in cold Algidum but slowly grow . Ye Males with equal Songs reherse The flowry Tempe's open Air , Or sing with an immortal Verse Fair Delos Isle , the happy Earth That gave him birth : His charming Harp , his Bow , and graceful Hair. He by your Pious Vows o'rcome Pale Famine , and rough Wars shall drive From Caesar , and his happy Rome , And make those raging Plagues infest The distant West : Whilst we in wanton Peace and Plenty live . ODE XXII . Nothing will hurt a good innocent Man , and a faithful Lover . A Man unstain'd , and pure from Sin , No Quiver fraught with poyson'd Heads , No Africk Javelin needs , He has a Guard and Arms within : Whether o're Syrtes wandring sands , Or bruitish Caucasus He goes , Or where Hydaspes flows And swiftly cuts the savage Lands : Of late , when Cares forsook my head , I stray'd and Sang i th' Sabine Grove My Lalage , my Love , A Woolf saw me unarm'd , and fled : A Beast so large did never roar i th' Daunian Woods , and fright the Swains , Nor in her burning Plains The Lyons Dry-Nurse Africk bore : So place me where no Sun appears , Or wrapt in Clouds or drown'd in tears ; Where Woods with whirling Tempests tost : Where no relieving Summers breeze Does murmur thro the Trees , But all lyes bound and fixt in Frost . Or place me where the scorching Sun With beams too near , doth burn the Zone , Yet fearless there I 'le gladly rove , Let frowning , or let smiling Fate Or Curse , or Bless my State Sweet smiling Lalage I 'le always love . ODE XXIII . He tells his young Mistriss that she is now of Age , and need not be affraid of him . YOu fly me , Maid , as tender Fawns Seek absent Dams in deep despair ; O're craggy Rocks , o're Woods and Lawns , And idly fear at every breath of Air. If Winds do whistle thrô the Grove , Or ruffle Vin●s ; they quickly start , If Lizzards in a Bramble move , An Icy trembling runs thrô every part . Not Tyger I or angry Bore Pursue Thee , Chloe , to destroy , Attend thy Mother's heels no more Now grown mature for Man , and ripe for Joy. ODE XXIV . He comforts Virgil Mourning for the Death of his Friend . ANd who can grieve too much ? what time shall end Our mourning for so dear a Friend ? Melpomene whom Jove hath blest With melting Voice , and mournful Tongue , And with a Harp above the rest Hath grac't ; begin the Melancholly Song . And doth eternal Sleep close Varus Eyes ? How soon our Pride and Glory dyes ! And where will equal Justice find , Where steddy Faith and naked Truth So generous , and so great a Mind ? And where an Equal to the falling Youth ? To be bewail'd by all the Good , the Just He fell ; by you , dear Virgil , most ; By you , who now dost mourn in vain , By Pious you , who idely pray To have thy Varus back again ; He was not lent Thee for a longer stay . Could you with foster touch than Orpheus move The Harp that drew the list'ning Grove , The Grove that danc't to Tunes he play'd ; Yet Blood and Bones would scarce return , Nor Flesh to cloath the empty shade , The Shade that once lay naked in the Urn. Which Mercury , a hard uneasie God To open Fate , with frightful Rod Hath driven thrô the gloomy Air , And shut amongst the Shades of Night : 'T is hard : but when We needs must bear , Enduring Patience makes the Burthen light . ODE XXV . He insults over his Mistriss Lydia , now grown Old. HA , Ha! Thy Trade at last is done , And all thy wanton Lovers gone ! No sighing Youths attend thy State , There 's no such rattling at thy dore As Heretofore ; And now thy Threshold loves thy quiet Gate . Now you may rest secure from noise , And sadly dream of former joys ; You seldom hear despairing Sighs , My Lydia rests in soft delight All the long night , Whil'st here her faithful Lover pines , and dyes . Now , now 't is thine , thy turn to moan The haughty wantons all alone : Now to a shady Grove retire , Whilst Winds as cold as thy dull Age Do fiercely rage And cool the poor remainders of thy fire . When Lust as fierce as Mares desires Thy ulcerous Heart and Liver fires , Then Thou shalt mourn , but mourn in vain , That wanton Youth seeks blooming Charms , And greener arms ; Whilst longing Age still meets with cold disdain . Then thou shalt think on sweets before , And dye at the despairing thought , No more . ODE XXVI . He desires his Muse to commend his Friend Lamia . I , I , the Muses merry Friend Deliver all my busie Cares Unto the wanton VVind ; What Tyrant of the North Leads dreadful Armies forth Secure alone , and laugh at others fears . Sweet Muse that dost delight to sing In strains to Roman Ears unknown , And tast the Virgin spring ; Trace o're the shady Bowers , And gather sweetest flowers ; And wreath my Lamia , wreath a noble Crown . What Honors I without thy Aid Bestow to grace my Friends , are vain ; My Crowns will quickly fade : You , Muse , and all the Nine should raise In new Alcaïcks Lamia's praise , And make him live in an unusual strain . ODE XXVII . He adviseth his Friends not to quarrel in their drink . AMidst our Cups for mirth design'd To fight and quarrel , suits Rough Thracian Brutes ; But not the sober temper of a Friend . This Savage Humor , Sirs , forbear , And free the modest God From brawls and blood ; And let your Humor , as your Wine , be clear . How Cups and Swords do disagree ! Then give your fighting o're , And brawl no more ; But sit , and keep your Elbows down like me . If you will have the glass go round , Then tell from what fair Eys The Arrow flies ; What Beauty makes Thee Happy in a wound . Not tell ! nay then the Glass remove , VVhat ever Charms ensnare Thy Heart , are fair ; You never sin in a dishonest Love. Tell boldly , tell thy generous flame , This is no leaky Ear ; Nor what I hear Shall my loose Tongue pour out to common fame . Unhappy Youth ! doth She surprize ? And have her Flames possess 't Thy burning Breast ? Thou didst deserve a dart from kinder Eyes . Undone ! for no Thessalian Charms Nor e'en the winged Horse Can break her force , And free Thee from this strange Chimera's Arms. ODE XXVIII . Architas a Mathematician being Shipwrack't , is represented begging a Seaman to Bury him , and denouncing Vengeance on him if he neglects his Request . A Narrow Grave by the Matinian Shore Confines Thee now , and thou can'st have no more , Ah learn'd Architas , ah how small for Thee Whose wond'rous Mind could measure Earth and Sea ! What Sands make up the Shore minutely teach , And count as far as Number 's self could reach ! What did it profit that thy nimble Soul Had travell'd Heaven , and oft ran round the Pole , Pursu'd the motions of the rowling Light When Death came on , and spread a gloomy Night ! Wise Tantalus the guest of Gods is dead , And on strange wings the chang'd Tithonus fled : Jove's Friend just Minos hath resign'd his Breath , And Wise Pythagoras felt a second Death ; Althô his Trojan Shield , and former State Did prove his Soul above the force of Fate ; Withdrew the Mind from Death's black conquering hand , And left but Skin and Bones at Fate 's Command ; In thy Opinion He did most excell , Discover'd Truth , and follow'd Nature well : But once o're all long Night her shades will spread , And all must walk the Valleys of the Dead : Some Rage spurs on , and Death attends in Wars ; The Sea destroys the greedy Marriners : The Young and Old confus'd by Numbers fall , And Death with equal hand doth strike at all : A boysterous Storm my feeble tackling tore , And lest one naked on th' Illyrian shore : But , Seaman , pray be just , put near the Land , Bestow a Grave , and hide my Limbs in Sand : So may the threat'ning East winds spare the Floods , And idely spend their Rage on Hills and Woods ; Whilst you ride safely ; so from every Shore May Gain flow in , and feed thy growing Store : May Jove and Neptune soft Tarentum's Guard Conspire to Bless , and joyn in one Reward : Perhaps you scorn , and are design'dly base , Thy Crime shall Dam thy undeserving Race ; Thy Pride , vain Man , shall on thy self return , Thou naked lie , and be the Publick scorn : My Prayers shall mount , and pull just Vengeance down , No Offerings shall release , now Vows attone : Thô hasty now , driven by a prosperous gale , ( 'T is quickly done ) thrice strew the sand , and sail . ODE XXIX . To ICCIUS . A Philosopher who had left his study , and was resolv'd to go to War. YOu envy , Iccius , the Arabian's store , Their pretious Gums , and Ivory beds , And art resolv'd for War ; For fierce Sabean Kings ne're fought before , And dreadful Medes Your scourges knit , and Roman Chains prepare . What lovely Virgin when her Lover's kill'd Shall wait on Thee , and call Thee Lord ? What perfum'd Royal Boy To shoot in 's Fathers Bow exactly skill'd , Attend thy board ; And serve Thy pleasure in another joy ? Who now dares say that streams must flow From Mountains tops to Vales below , And not to th' Springs return ? Or who deny but Tyber's wondrous stream May Hills contemn , And swiftly roul back to his lofty Urn ? When You can change for Shield , and Sword , and Dart , And the base Drudgery of Wars , VVhat e're contentment brings Panoetus VVorks , thy costly Books of Art And Plato's cares ; Tho once I 'me sure You promis'd better things . ODE XXX . He begs Venus to come to the Temple which his Glycera had prepar'd . KInd Venus leave the Paphian Isle , And live with Glycera a while ; A noble Temple she prepares , VVith Incense sweet thine Altars smoak , Thy presence numerous Vows invoak ; She calls Thee with a thousand Prayers . The Graces with their Zones unloos'd , The Nymphs their beauties all expos'd From every Spring , and every Plain ; Thy powerful , hot , and winged Boy , And Youth that 's dull without thy joy , And Mercury compose thy Train . ODE XXXI . The Poet's Wish . VVHat will the Poet beg to day From Phoebus in his hallow'd Shrine , For what doth He design to Pray , Whil'st thus He pours his Holy Wine ? Not fat Sardinia's fruitful Crops , Nor Flocks that hot Calabria feeds , Nor Gold , nor Ivory raise his Hopes ; Those toys He neither loves , nor needs . Not those rich Fields where Lyris runs With quiet Streams , and wanton play , The smoothest of the Ocean's Sons , And gently eats his easie way . Let him that Has one , Prune his Vine , The Merchant now come safe to Land In golden Gobblets quaff the Wine His Syrian Wares and Voyage gain'd . He chiefest Darling of the Gods , For twice a year He plows the Main , He rides the Proud Atlantick Floods , And yet makes safe returns again ! Me Chicory and Olives feed , Me loos'ning Mallows nobly feast , They give what Nature's wants can need , And kindly fill the easie Guest . A Mind to use my present Store With Health and Life , but not so long As brings Contempt , or cramps my Song ; Grant this Apollo , and I ask no more . ODE XXXII . To his Harp , whose assistance he desires . IF underneath a Myrtle shade , When free from Business , I have play'd What may this year , and more command ; Begin , sweet Harp , a Roman strain , Those Measures and those Tunes maintain First struck by great Alcerus noble Hand . He fierce in Arms , yet mid'st his Cares , When Dangers press't , and noisy Wars , And stain'd his charming Harp with Blood ; Or when He stem'd the angry Seas , Or when arriv'd He sate at ease , And laught at all the Fury of the Flood : The Muses He in sounding Verse Would Sing , and Venus Praise reherse , With her attending wanton Boy : Or Lyco's Face surprizing fair , With lovely Eyes , and Auborn Hair , By Nature fitted to entice to Joy. Great Phoebus Glory , Phoebus Love , And welcome to the Feasts of Jove ; Thou great Reliever of my Care ; When e're I beg thy Aid , attend ; Assist the Verses of thy Friend , And tune my Songs for Mighty Caesar's Ear. ODE XXXIII . He Comforts his Friend who had ill success in his Amours . COme dry thine Eys , and cease to mourn , Think not too much on Glycera's scorn : Let no complaining Songs proclaim , That she , regardless of her Vows , Her wanton smiles bestows Upon a later , and a meaner flame . Lycoris fair for Cyrus burns , She loves , but meets no kind returns ; Ill-natur'd Pholöe Cyrus Charms , But sooner shall the Lambs agree With cruel VVolves , than she Shall take so base a Wanton in her Arms. Thus Venus sports , the Rich , the Base , Unlike in Fortune , and in Face To disagreeing Love provokes ; VVhen cruelly jocose She ties the fatal noose , And binds Unequals to the brazen Yokes . This is the Fate that all must prove , The sure unhappiness of Love ; VVhilst fairer Virgins did adore And courted Me , I Myrtal woo'd As rough as Adria's flood That bends the Creeks of the Calabrian shore . ODE XXXIV . He resolves to be religious , and follow Epicurus 's Philosophy no more . I That but seldom did adore , I that no God but pleasure knew , VVhilst mad Philosophy did blind , And Epicurus fool'd my Mind ; Must keep that impious Course no more ; But turn my Sails , and steer anew . For Angry Jove with mighty force , Whilst all the Skies were bright and clear , Shot thro the Heaven with pointed flame , And shook the Universal frame ; He lately drove his thund'ring Horse And flaming Chariot thro the Air. This shook the Earth and wandring streams , This noise disturb'd the quiet Dead ; Thro muddy Styx , thro all beneath , And thro the shady VValks of Death Quick Lightning shot unusual beams ; The Ghosts beheld the Light , and fled . He brings the most obscure to light , And robs the Glorious of a Crown ; Now tumbles down the mighty Proud And makes them know there is a God ; Now kicks the lofty into night , And seats the Peasant in a Throne . ODE XXXV . To Fortune , whom he Celebrates , and begs to preserve Caesar . GReat Goddess , Antium's guardian Power , Whose force is strong and quick to raise The lowest to the highest place ; Or with a wond'rous fall To bring the haughty lower ; And turn proud Triumphs to a Funeral . The labouring Swain thy Aid implores , His Prayers are mixt of Fear and Hope On Thee depending for his Crop ; Thee Merchants Thee confess VVhen far remov'd from Shores , And bow to Thee the Mistress of the Seas . To thee their Vows rough Germans pay , To Thee the wandring Scythians bend , Thee mighty Rome proclaims a friend : And for their Tyrant Sons The barbarous Mothers pray To thee , the greatest Guardian of their Thrones : They bend , they vow , and still they fear Lest you should kick their Empire down And cloud the glory of their Crown ; They fear that you would raise The lazy Crowd to War , And break their Empire , or confine their Praise . Necessity still stalks before , And leads the way with poys'nous breath , And all the Instruments of Death ; Sharp Swords , and VVheels and Racks That flow with putrid gore Her brazen hand to fright the Nations shakes . Sure Hope , and Friendship cloath'd in white Attend on Thee , they still remain The chiefest Glories of thy Train ; Thô you inrag'd retreat And with a hasty flight , Thy Garment chang'd , forsake the falling Great . But the base Crowd , the Perjur'd Whore , And when the Casks of Wine are dry , The false Pretenders quickly fly ; They all refuse to bend With the declining Poor And take the heavy yoke to ease their Friend . Preserve Great Caesar , Caesar leads To distant Britan , guide his Fate , And keep the Glory of our State , The youth that must infest VVith Arms the haughty Medes ; And scatter Fears and Slavery thrô the Fast . I blush at the dishonest show , I die to see the VVounds and Scars Those Glorys of our Civil VVars ; What Sins , a Cursed Age Were VVe afraid to do , And what hath scap't the fury of our rage ? VVhat dread of Heaven , or fears of Hell Could stop the Impious daring hand ? And was not every shrine prophan'd ! Oh wouldst Thou quickly whet Our impious blunted steel To fight the bold Arabian , and the Gete . ODE XXXVI . A Welcome to his dear Friend Lamia . 'T Is pious Duty now to praise With Incense , Songs and sacred Lays , And with a promis'd Heifers blood My Numida's kind guardian God : Who safely now return'd again From the remotest Parts of Spain , To thronging Friends on every side A thousand Kisses does divide ; But Dearest Lamia most receives , And takes as gladly as He gives : Their equal Love at School began , Both the same Race of Vertue ran ; And both at once grew up to Man : Be every Head with Garlands Crownd , And let the flowing Bowl go round : Let fading Lillys and the Rose Their Beauty , and their smells disclose , Let long-liv'd Parsly grace the Feast , And gently cool the heated Guest : Then all on Beauteous Damalis Shall lose their gloating wanton Eyes ; But her no Charms no Nods shall move , And none divide her from her Love ; She shall imbrace her young Gallant As twining Ivy clasps the growing Plant : ODE XXXVII . On Caesar 's Victory over Antony and Cleopatra . NOw now t is time to dance and play , And drink , and frollick all the Day ; T is time , my Friends , to banish Care ; And costly Feasts with thankful Hearts prepare , In hallow'd shrines , and make the Gods your Guests : 'T was Treason once to Sport a Flash , And Sin to Pierce the Noble Cash , Whilst nought but boading Fears were seen For Ills to come , When Egypts haughty Queen With wither'd Eunuchs threat'ned mighty Rome : A Woman vain , whose hopes could rise To such Impossibilities ! A Woman Drunk with sweet success ; Whom smiling Fate Had brought to dare no less Then Caesar's Fortune , and the Roman State. But soon her Pride to Fears retir'd When all her Ships were sunk or fir'd ; And real dread possest her mind , When Caesar's Oars Did press so close behind And bore his Navy to the frighted Shores. ( As Hawks pursue the trembling Doves , Thro open Fields or shady Groves . Or as swift Huntsmen chace the Deer Thro Thracian Plains That fly as wing'd with fear ) To bring the fatal Monster into Chains . But She design'd a Nobler Fate , And falling would appear as great As when She singly fill'd the Throne , No fears betray'd , Nor fled to Coasts unknown To live secure , or meanly beg for Aid : Her falling Throne with smiling look She boldly saw ; she dar'd provoke Fierce Serpents rough with Poys'nous trains . To dart their Tongue , And fill her dying Veins ; Grown furious now on Death resolv'd so long : The stout Liburnian Ships , the Fame And lasting glory of her Shame She envy'd ; she a Soul too Proud , Too haughty to be seen Amongst the private Crowd , And grace a Triumph less than Egypt's Queen . ODE XXXVIII . He tells his Boy that he should not take too much careabout his Entertainments . I Hate , my Boy , I deeply hate The useless Persian Pomp and State ; Crowns wrought with too much Art displease ; Forbear to seek the blushing Rose , Or where the Beauteous , Lilly grows , Such toil disturbs our ease : A negligent and simple dress Thoughts free from Cares will most express ; Thy Front , my Boy , thy Front , and mine A Myrtle Crown will best become Whilst I sit , and quaff at Home Beneath my shady Vine . The End of the first Book . ODES The Second Book . ODE I. To POLLIO . He desires him to forbear writing Tragedies till He had settled the State. SAD Prisoners Guard , and Glory of the Bar The Senate's Oracle , and great in War , Whose Faith and Vertue all proclaim ; To whom the German Triumph won Eternal Fame , And never fading Glories of a Crown : The Grounds and Vices of our Wars , Our Civil Dangers , and our Fears , The sport of Chance , and turns of Fate , And Impious Arms that flow'd With yet unexpiated blood ; The great Triumvirate , And their Leagues Fatal to the Roman State ; A dangerous Work you write ; and tread O're Flames by treacherous Ashes hid ; Yet this you write , and give to Fame A lasting Monument of our Fathers Shame : But hold thy Mourning Muse , forbear To tread the crowded Theater , Till Quiet spread o're State Affairs . Shall lend Thee time for meaner Cares ; And then inspir'd with Tragick rage Return to the forsaken Stage And mourn the Faults , and Follies of the Age : Methinks the Trumpet 's threatning Sound Disturbs our rest with fierce Alarms And from the shining Arms A dreadful lightning spreads around ; It darts pale fear through every Eye The Horses start , and trembling Riders flie : Methinks the Warlike Captains shouts are heard , With sordid Dust how Gloriously besmear'd ! In Blood I see the Souldiers roul , I see the World obey , All yield , and own great Caesar's sway beside the stubborn Cato's haughty Soul : Juno , and Africk's Guardian Power , That left their ruin'd Seats before , Unable to revenge their fall ; Hath now on Rome return'd disgrace , And offer'd up the Victor's race To great Jugurtha's Ghost , and Hannibal : What Land is free , what Plain Not Fatt'ned by the Roman Slain ? What cannot witness by the Graves it shows Our Empire 's fall , whose Noise is spread O're Persia and the distant Mede The Sport and Laughter of our smiling Foes ? What Lake unstain'd before Not knows our War , and swells with Latian Gore ? What Sea 's not dy'd ? on what unhappy Flood On what remoter Coast Have not our Youth been lost Grown Impiously Prodigal of their Blood ? Enough , my Muse , Complaints forbear , With me to shady Grots retire , Thy Mourning cease , divert thy Care ; And there with softer touches move thy Lyre : ODE II. The free and generous only are the happy Men. DEar Friend whose generous thoughts despise The creeping Fears of Avarice , How Silver looks , how mean and base , How much below the common Brass , Unless a Moderate use refine , A value give and make it shine ? Kind Proculeius , just and good , In Fame as Noble as in Blood , Who with a Father's care did grant Supplies and eas'd his Brother's Want , Long long shall live ; surviving Fame On lasting Wings shall bear his Name . That Man a wider Empire gains That his own craving wish restrains , Than he whose Sword and wide Command , Joyn distant Spain and Libya's Sand , Than if they did his Arms obey , And either Carthage own his sway : The Dropsies still by Drink increase , In Rain are all our hopes of ease ; The Jaws are dry , the Thrist remains Until the fatal Humors cease ; Until the cause of the Disease Shall leave the swoln and craving Veins : Phraates fixt in Cyrus Throne , Ador'd like Persia's rising Sun , True sence that scorns the Peoples test Ne're ranks amongst the happy Blest ; From cheats of Words the Crowd she brings To real Estimate of things : To him she gives , to him alone The Laurel , and the lasting Throne Whose Eyes can unconcern'd behold . The darling heaps of shining Gold ; Whose mind doth never Wealth pursue , Nor turn to take a second view : ODE III. He adviseth his Friend Delius to be content , and live merrily . AN even mind in every State , Amidst the Frowns and Smiles of Fate , Dear mortal Delius always show ; Let not too much of cloudy Fear , Nor too intemperate joys appear Or to contract , or to extend thy Brow : Whether thy dull unhappy Years Run slowly clog'd with Hopes and Fears , And sit too heavy on thy Soul ; Or whether crown'd on Beds of Flowers Mirth softly drives thy easy hours And cheers thy Spirits with the choicest Bowl : Where Poplars white the lofty Pine And Myrtles friendly Branches joyn , And hospitable shades compose ; Where near a purling Spring doth glide In winding Streams , and softly chide The interrupting Pebble as it flows . There bring thy Wine ; thy Odors spread , Let fading Roses crown thy Head , Whilst Wealth , and Age and Life will bear ; For you must leave your Groves , your House , And Farm where yellow Tiber flows ; And thy heap'd Wealth shall fill thy greedy Heir : For whether sprung from Royal Blood , Or from themeanest of the Crowd ; 'T is all a Case , for nought can save ; The Hand of Fate doth strike at all , And thou art surely doom'd to fall , A Sacrifice to the impartial Grave : Our Lots are cast , Fate shakes the Urn , And each mans Lot must take his turn some soon leap out , and some more late : But still 't is sure each Mortals Lot Will doom his Soul to Charon's Boat , To bear th' eternal Banishment of Fate . ODE IV. To Xanthias Phoceus who fell in Love with his Captive . DEar Xanthias t is a faulty shame , Blush not to own a Noble flame Rais'd by thy Captives Charms ; The fair Brisëis once could move Achilles stubborn Soul to Love , And force the haughty Heroe to her Arms : Tecmessa's Charms subdu'd her Lord , And Conquering Ajax soon ador'd ; By fair Cassandra's Eyes When Hector fell , and left his Troy To weary Greeks an easy Prey , E'en midst his Triumph great Atrides dies : See what a Beauteous Majesty , And how commanding is her Eye , Her look proclaims her State ; She Mourns , she Mourns , a Royal Race , And Parents equal to her Face , And grieves to see so strange a whirl of Fate : Ne're think her , Friend , of Common Blood ; Nor sprung from the dishonest Crow'd A mind so bravely bold , So chast as to resist the Arts That take the mean unguarded Hearts , The force of pressing Youth , and Charms of Gold : Her Face , her Neck , her Breast and Arms I praise not taken with her Charms ; Suspitious thoughts remove ; Let almost forty feeble Years Secure thy mind from jealous fears , And tell that Horace is too old for Love : ODE V. To his Friend in Love with a young Girl . THy Heifer , Friend , is hardly broak , Her neck uneasy to the Yoke ; She cannot draw the Plough , nor bear The weight of the obliging Steer : In flowry Meads is her delight , Those charm her Tast and please her sight : Or else she flies the burning Beams To quench her Thirst in cooler Streams ; Or with the Calves thro Pastures plays , And wantons all her easy days : Forbear , design no hasty Rape On such a green , untimely Grape : Soon ruddy Autumn will produce Plump Clusters , ripe , and fit to use : She now that flies , shall then pursue , She now that 's courted doat on you : For Age whirls on , and every year It takes from Thee it adds to Her : Soon Lalage , shall soon proclaim Her love , nor blush to own her Flame : Lov'd more , for she more kindly warms Than Phloe coy , or Cloris Charms , So pure her Breast , so fair a White As in a clear and smiling Night , In quiet Floods the Silver Moon Or Cretan Gyges never Shone ; Who , plac't amongst the Maids , defies A skilful Stranger 's praying Eys ; So smooth his doubtful looks appear , So loose to Womanish his Hair : ODE VI. To SEPTIMIUS . He wishes for a quiet retreat in his Old Age. SEptimius that wouldst stem the Main , And go with me to distant Spain ; To fierce Cantabrians never broak , As yet unlearn'd to bear our Yoke : And Syrtes Sands , where th' Ocean roars , And rowling Waves wash swarthy Moors ; May Tibur's Walls the Tuscan Seat Afford my Age a safe retreat , Oh! there , now tir'd with Wars and Seas , May I enjoy a happy Ease ! If Fate denies this small Desire , My hasty steps shall soon retire Where smooth Galesus cuts his way ; Around whos 's Banks , white Fleeces play And felt Phalantus easy sway : Oh how those little Plains do please , how fit for Happiness and Ease ! Where Honey fills the Combs , and strives With fair Hymettu's sweetest Hives : Where Olives from the fruitful Soil , Nor yield to the Venafrian Oyl : Where Springs are long , and Winters mild , Nor hoary Frost deforms the Field ; Where Bacchus friendly Mountains spread , And Almon rears his fruitful Head ; Where choicest Grapes in Clusters twine , Nor envy the Falernian Vine : These happy Seats must us receive , There you and I , dear Friend , must live , Till Death's approaching hands surprize , And close thy Poet Horace Eyes ; Then you a little Tomb shall rear , And cool my Ashes with a Pious tear : ODE VII . A Welcome to his Friend Pompy . DEar Pompy that hast often try'd Whilst once we fought on Brutus side How near pale Death rough Wars attends ; What Genius now hath sent Thee home , And who restor'd Thee back to Rome , Pompy , the best of all my Friends ? With whom in Mirth and Wine and Play , Whilst sweetest Roses Crown'd my Head , and did their Fragrant Odors spread ; I often broak the lingring Day : The bloody Wars , Philippy's Field Ignobly having lost my Shield , With thee I saw , secure from Wound ; I saw the flight , when haughty Proud To Caesar's stronger vertue bow'd , And basely bit the bloody ground : Me Mercury secur'd from Fears , He kindly wrapt me up in Night , And sav'd me from the dangerous fight , But Thee the Tide bore back to Wars : Now then restor'd to ease and rest , Pay Jove thy thanks and promis'd Feast , Now tir'd with Wars , from danger free Beneath my cool and pleasing shade On flowry Beds supinely laid Enjoy the Casks design'd for Thee : See here they stand , these Bowls employ , Forgetful Wine profusely pour , From largest Shells rich Oyntments shour , There 's no extream in real joy : Who Parsly twines , or Myrtle Boughs To grace our Mirth , and shade our Brows ? Who Crowns prepares for every Guest ? Whom will the happy Dye design The just disposer of the Wine , And great Controuler of the Feast ? Let Mirth , and Joy , and Wine attend , I must be Mad , I must appear As wild as the mad Thracians are ; 'T is decent at the welcome of a Friend : ODE VIII . To his forsworn Mistriss . BArine did revenge or'take , And blast as oft as you deceive ; Were but one Nail , one Tooth more black , Thy Vows I would at last believe : But still more fair , more bright thy Face , More Crowds of Lovers flock to view , As each false Oath procur'd a grace And tempted Thee to prove untrue : It profits Thee to be forsworn By all that other Mortals fear , Th' eternal Gods , thy Mothers Urn , By whirling Heaven , and every Star : The merry Nymphs approve thy Arts , And Venus fair forgives thy Wiles , And Cupid , sharpning flaming Darts On bloody Whetstones , gently smiles : Besides new Slaves still flock to Thee , And happy He that takes the Chain ; And those that threaten to be free Forgive the jilt , and serve again : Thee still the thrifty Father fears , And Mothers for their wanton Boys . New Brides lest you detain their Dears , And rob them of their promis'd joys : ODE IX . He adviseth his Friend to grieve no more for dead Mystes . NOt always Snow and Hail and Rain Descend , and beat the fruitful Plain ; Not ruffling Storms still toss the Caspian Floods : Not every Month doth lazy Frost Bind up the Armenian Coast Nor furious Storms still vex the groaning Woods : Call'd forth by Spring 's enlivening Breez The Leaves return to naked Trees ; But you , dear Friend , still mourn in Weeping strains Lost Mystis ; when Noon burns the Skies When night comes on , or when it flies No change appears , Thy love and Grief remains : Yet Aged Nestor dry'd his Tears , His Grief was shorter than his Years ; Nor did he still his dying Son bewail : His Sisters , and the Trojan Train , And Priam wept , but smil'd again , Nor always mourn'd young Troylus hasty fall . Thy soft Complaints at last forbear , Let Mirth succeed , and Smiles appear Let 's sing , and Caesar be our lofty Theme ; How rough Niphates Hills obey , And Tigris bound by Caesar's sway Less furious grows , and rouls a milder stream : The Scythians now with broken Bows Confin'd to their own Frost and Snows Have cool'd the raging fury of their Pride ; In narrow bounds with nimble force They ride their fierce impetuous Horse , And view with longing Eyes the Roman side . ODE X. A middle Estate of Life is the best . WIse they , that with a cautious fear Not always thro the Ocean Steer , Nor , whilst they think the Winds will roar , Do thrust too near the rocky Shore : To those that choose the golden Mean : The Waves are smooth , the Skies serene ; They want the baseness of the Poors retreat , And envy'd Houses of the Great : Storms often vex the lofty Oak , High Mountains seel the Thunder's stroak ; And lofty Towers , when Storms prevail , Are ruin'd with a greater fall : A Breast prepar'd in either State Or sears or hopes a change of Fate ; 'T is Jove the same that Winter brings And melts the Frost by pleasing Springs : Tho Fortune now contracts her Brow , And frowns ; yet 't will not still be so : Apollo sometimes Mirth pursues His Harp awakes his sleepy Muse , Nor always bends his threatning Bow : When Fortune sends a Stormy Wind Then show a brave and present Mind , And when with too indulgent Gales She swells too much , then furl thy Sails . ODE XI . He adviseth his Friend to live Merrily . WHat fierce Cantabrians , what the Scythians dare , Make , Friend , no object of thy care ; Whilst raging Floods , and Adria's Tide Confine their force , and arms divide , Secure we laugh at all the threats of War : Let no concern , no cares for Life approach , It lasts not long , and asks not much ; But see our years do swiftly move , Our Nimble Youth and Beauty fades , Dry Age with Cares will crowd our Heads : And leave no room for easy Rest and Love : Spring Flowers not always equal Beauties wear , Nor Moons with equal Beams appear As when at full they brightly shin'd ; Then why should you disturb your Mind So much too narrow for eternal Care ? Why underneath a pleasing Myrtle shade On flowry Banks supinely laid , Are we so slow to speed a Day ; And whilst grey Hairs are crown'd with Rose , Or odorous Oyl our Heads o'reflows Drink all our Troubles and our Cares away ? Brisk Bacchus soon will sordid Cares refine , And make dull Melancholly shine ; What Boy waits there , what Boy to bring Some cooler Streams from yonder Spring To quench the fury of my flaming Wine ? What ready Servant waits to call my Miss , And who coy Lyde will entice ? Bid Lyde come , we are in hast ; Bid Lyde come , her harp prepare , Like Spartans loosely bind her hair ; For Love may Ebb , and then her time is past . ODE XII . To MECAENAS . Wars and Battles are not a Subject fit for his Muse , but Love and Lycimnia he can Sing . THe stout Numantines lingring fall , The Romans Scourge dire Hannibal , No more , my Learned Lord , require , No more the rough Sicilian Flood Dy'd deep with Carthaginian Blood , To fit to the soft Measures of the Lyre : Nor Centaurs eager to engage , Nor fierce Hylaeus Drunken rage , Nor Giants tam'd by Hercules Who dar'd to reach old Saturn's Crown , Who dar'd to storm his shining Throne And break the quiet of eternal Ease : And you , my Lord , with equal flights Great Caesar's Wars , and conqu'ring Fights Shall better tell in lasting Prose ; And how in Triumph Caesar led The Persian and the haughty Mede , And scatter'd Slavery midst his threatning Foes : My Muse bids me imploy my Verse , And soft Lycymnia's Songs rehearse ; She bids me all her Charms improve , Her taking Air , her shining Eyes , By Nature fitted to surprize ; And mind still faithful to thy mutual Love : Lycimnia fair , the Pride of Rome , How well her Charms and Arts become ! How movingly her Beauty pleads , When toying she and richly drest At Great Diana's solemn Feast , Begins the Dance , and leads the Beauteous Maids ? For what Achemenes possest , And for the Wealth of all the East , Youl l you , my Lord , exchange your Fair ? Youl l you , my Lord , for all the Gold The stuft Arabians houses hold Exchange one braid of sweet Lycimnia's hair ? When e're her head she gently moves , To take the earnest of her Loves A blamy Kiss ; or else denies With easy forwardness , which shows That She is more content to lose Than He that begs to win the Prize ; Or when She runs to snatch an eager Kiss . ODE XIII . Upon a Tree that was like to fall upon him as he was walking in his Field . A Fatal Star did then command The Skies , and guide his impious hand Who planted Thee , to the disgrace Of 's Farm , and ruin of his Race : 'T is certain He his Father kill'd , He slew , and fed upon his Child , He Stab'd his Friend before his God And Stain'd the Image with his Blood : To him Medea's Arts were known , The whole World's Sins he made his own , Who first disgrac't my Field with Thee , Thou impious Stock , thou cursed Tree , Thou cursed Tree whose hasty fall Design'd thy Master's Funeral : What each should fly is seldom known , We unprovided are undone : The Waves that foam round Thracian Shores Are dreaded by the swarthy Moors , They think cold Death doth use to trace The Snow and Frozen Hills of Thrace , Nor fear it from a warmer place : The Roman dreads the Darts , the Force , And Conquering flights of Parthian Horse : The Roman Chains the Parthian fears , Their steddy Troops , and weighty Spears : Yet Death when Arm'd with a Disease From other Parts will rudely seize , She comes unlookt for , sweeps away Unthinking Nations in a Day , And huddles up her easy Prey : How near had I , how nearly seen The Kingdom of the swarthy Queen ? Judge Aeacus , the story'd Grove , The seat of Piety and Love : And Sappho who in humble strains Of her base Country-men complains , In sweetest tunes proclaims her Love , But mourns at her reproach above : Alcaeus too whose golden strings VVith manlier strokes sound greater things ; He tells the dangers and the fears Of Flights , of Sailing , and of VVars : VVith silent rever'nce Ghosts admire The wondrous fury of his Lyre : The Vulgar Shades throng most to hear Of Kings depos'd , of feats of VVar , And Drink them with a greedy Ear : No wonder this , Hell 's furious Guard With silent wonder stood and heard ; His Ears lay down , and , whilst he play'd , A hollow Grin his joy betray'd : No Hiss was heard , the Furies Snakes Lay husht , and quiet on their necks : Delight did torn Prometheus seize , The sound deceiv'd him into ease ; And Tantalus felt soft repose , Unheeded now the bending Boughs Hang o're his Lips and Water flows : Nor did the fierce Orion care To hunt his Lyon , or his flying Bear. ODE XIV . Life is short , and Death unavoidable . THe whirling year , Ah Friend ! the whirling year Rouls on apace ; And soon shall wrinkles plough thy wither'd Face : In vain you wast your Pious breath , No prayers can stay , no vows defer The swift approach of Age , and conqu'ring Death : No , tho ten thousand Oxen stain'd his Shrines With sacred Blood , Shouldst thou appease the inexorable God : He opens , and he shuts the Grave ; Geryon's triple Soul confines , And stubborn Gyges with the Stygian Wave : That fatal Wave that must be past by all , The Rich , the Poor Are doom'd alike to view the Stygian Shore ; The Knaves and Fools , the Wise and Just , The Kings as well as Clowns must fall ; And undistinguisht lie with meaner dust : In vain we all retreat from dangerous War , And live in ease ; In vain we shun the rage of angry Seas : The burning Fevers Autumn brings In vain we fly , and idly fear The Plagues that South-winds bear on sickly Wings : For all the Stygian Waves are doom'd to pass , We all must go And view Cocytus wandring Streams below : We all must see the lasting Chains That hold curst Danaus his Race , And Sisyphus condemn'd to endless pains : Thy Children must be left , thy Lands and House , Thy pleasing Wife , That happy Comfort and Delight of Life ; Of all the Trees thy hands restor'd None but the Cypress hated Boughs Shall follow their short-liv'd decaying Lord : The Wines you keep so close thy worthier Heir shall soon possess , And wast midst wanton Luxury and Ease ; Much nobler Wine the squandring Youth Shall spill and costlier Feasts prepare , Than ever pleas'd a Pamper'd Abbots Tooth . ODE XV. On the Luxury of the Age. OUr Squares still rise , our fields decrease , And now the Ploughs must rust in ease ; New Motes are dug , large Ponds we make That Rival e'en the Lucrine Lake : Round lofty Firrs weak Ivy twines , Unmarry'd Plains profusely spread A useless melancholly Shade O're larger Fields than marry'd Elms and Vines : Our Beds of Roses , Myrtle Bowers And all the Luxury of Flowers Their fruitless Shades and Smells afford : They now those fruitful grounds possess Where Olives rose with vast Increase , And with great Bounty fed the former Lord : Thick Laurells plac't by purling Streams Shut out the Mid-days burning Beams And give us shade to drink and play ; Was this by Romulus allow'd ? Was this the way our Fathers show'd To rise to Empire , and extend our sway ? No , then each single Man's Estate Was small , the Publick Stock was great , The Publick-Weal imploy'd their Care ; No private Man profusely Skill'd Did then his large Piazza's build To take cool Breezes of the Northern Air : The little Hut their Father's House The Laws forbad them to refuse , But live content in mean Aboads ; Enjoyning all their Shrines and Towns To build with new and costly Stones , To grace their Country , and to please their Gods. ODE XVI . The contented Man the most happy . FOr ease the Seaman asks the Gods When tost in the Egaean Floods ; When darkness spreads to heighten fears , And not one friendly Star appears : For ease the Warlike Thracians plead , The Persian and the quiver'd Mede ; For ease too precious to be sold For costly Gems , or bought with Gold : For neither Power nor Wealth controul The sad disorders of the Soul , Nor yet remove the Cares that wait About the Palace of the Great : Blest he with little , on whose thrifty Board That Salt still shines that call'd his Father Lord , No vexing fears his Breast can seize , No sordid Lust will break his ease : Why these extended Cares , and Strife , And trouble for so short a Life ? VVhy do we ply our Sails and Oars , And fondly visit forreign Shores ? Can he that flies his Country find That he can leave himself behind ? " For baneful Care will still prevail , " And overtake us under sail ; It dogs the Horseman close behind , More swift than Roes , or Stormy Wind : A man contented with his present doom Hates to look on for what 's to come ; With mirth he sweetens bitter Fate ; There is no perfect happy State : The stout Achilles dy'd in hast , Long Age did old Tithonus wast ; Those years swift time denies to Thee Perhaps his hand shall reach to me : Round Thee ten thousand Heifers low , Stout Oxen bend beneath thy Plow ; In his gilt Coach neigh generous Mares , The Purple dies what e're he wears . A Farm as large as my desire With some few heats of Lyrick fire On me hath stubborn Fate bestow'd , With Pride enough to Scorn the Crowd : ODE XVII . To MECAENAS . He is resolv'd not to survive him , and congratulates his Recovery . VVHy am I kill'd with thy Complaint ? 'T is more than any God will grant , 'T is more , my Lord , than I can bear ; That you on whom my hopes rely , That you my great support should dy , And leave thy Melancholly Horace here : Did you my better half decay For what should I , the other , stay ? What comfort could compose my Mind When neither whole , nor yet so dear I should be doom'd to linger here , And feel my worser part still left behind ? The same black Day shall seize on both , It is a fixt , and Solemn Oath , Wee 'l go , I 've Sworn , We both will go ; Tho you may first begin the Race , I 'le follow with a nimble pace , And joyn you e're you reach the Waves below : Did fierce Chimera dart her fire , To make my frighted Soul retire , Yet still I would attend you State ; Tho hundred handed Gyas Rose , In vain should all his strength oppose , For Justice bids , and 't is approv'd by Fate : What ever Star did at my Birth prevail , Whether my Fate was weigh'd in Libra's Scale , Or Fatal Scorpio's Beams did shine ; Or Capricorn's disturbing Rays Those Tyrants of the Western Seas , 'T is Strange how much your Stars consent with mine : From Saturn's fatal influence Jove's milder Rays were your defence , He clog'd the Wings of hasty Death ; When thrice with an auspicious voice The States of Rome proclaim'd their joys , And with their own supply'd their fading Breath : My Head had felt a falling Oak , But Faunus did divert the stroak ; Faunus , the Witts kind guardian God , The Shrine you vow'd the Gods prepare , Let offer'd Bulls reward their Care : For me a Lamb shall shed his meaner Blood. ODE XVIII . Against Covetousness . NOr Ivory , nor Indian Stuff , Nor Gold adorns my gawdy Roof ; No Cedar Beams press costly Stone From Quarries of the torrid Zone , Where burning Rayes the Marble mould , And joyn the Mass with flowing Gold : Nor yet have I an Heir unknown E're seiz'd on Attalus his Throne ; No honest Clients hang my Rooms With Purple stretcht on Tyrian Looms : But yet I make a fair pretence To Honesty and Innocence , And store of Wit , and these compleat , And make me sought to by the great : This is my Wealth , This all my Store , Content I ask the Gods no more ; Nor my great Friends : O bounteous Fate , How happy in my mean Estate ! Days push on Days with equal pace , New Moons still hast to the decrease , But you e'en whilst the Bell doth toll , And sadly warn thy flying Soul Rich Stones provide , large Piles you rear , Unmindful of your Sepulcher : Thy Moles , and thy incroaching Mounds Remove thy floods to streighter bounds , For greedy you would seem but poor Confin'd by Nature's narrow Shore : Nay more you leap the Sacred bounds And seize your meaner Clients Grounds ; No Fence too high , no Ditch too deep For Wealthy Injury to leap : Expell'd by greedy Avarice The Wife with her dear Husband flies , With all her Gods , ( too weak defence For Poor and injur'd Innocence , They suffer in the common harms ) And sordid Infants in her Arms : Yet after all this toyl and heat , This Fraud and Treachery to be great , The last retreat the Rich must have , The last and surest , is the Grave : What wouldst thou more ? to Swains and Lords An equal Room just Earth affords , Nor does she take a Prince's Bones With greater Rev'rence than a Clowns : Ne're surly Charon brib'd with Gold Brings back the Cunning or the Bold ; Nor will He waft Prometheus o're And land him on the living Shore : Proud Tantalus and all his Line , Tho Kings , His lasting Chains confine ; And whether we his aid Implore Or not , He 's ready still to ease the Poor , Free him from want , and place him on the happy Shore : ODE XIX . In praise of Bacchus . BOrn out by an unusual rage I saw ( believe it future Age ) Where Bacchus taught the Nymphs a Song , In distant Vales ; from every Wood With prickt-up Ears the Satyrs stood , And smiling Fauns compos'd a list'ning throng : Evae ! new fear disturbs my Soul , With troubled joy my Passions roul Whilst full of the impetuous God : Evae ! spare , mighty Liber , spare , Urge not the violent rage too far : Spare , Liber , dreadful with thy angry Rod : Now boldly I can speak thy Praise , Rehearse the stubborn Thyades , Too fierce to bear the easy Yoke : Thy streams of Wine , thy milky Spring , And in repeated Numbers Sing Distilling Honey from the melting Oak : Thy happy Bride's refulgent Hairs , That grace the Skies with brighter Stars ; What Fate the Impious Theban strook , How Aunt and Mother strangely tore The trampling Wolf , and rooting Bore ; And fierce Lycurgus falling by his hook : Indus and Ganges own thy sway , And Thee the barbarous Seas obey , You flush't o're craggy Mountains lead , O're Hills and Dales , o're Springs and Lakes The Thracian Rout , whilst harmless Snakes In innocent folds twine round each drunken Head. When impious Giants climb'd on high , And dar'd to storm thy Fathers Sky ; Thy single hand secur'd his Crown : You with a Lyons dreadful Jaws And frightful Nails retriev'd the Cause , Bold Rhetus quell'd and sav'd the falling Throne : Tho much more us'd to soft delight , Unfit , unable for a fight You once were thought , and doom'd to ease : Yet when your Heat and Vertue rose , What fury seiz'd your haughty Foes ? How equally inclin'd to Wars and Peace ? When beauteous with your gawdy horn You did from Hells black Shades return , Thee Cerberus saw , and show'd the Way ; He wagg'd his Tail , grew wondrous kind , He lickt thy Feet , he fawn'd and whin'd ; Nor did one grin an impious rage betray : ODE XX. He promiseth himself immortal Fame . NO weak , no common Wing shall bear My rising Body thro the Air ; Now chang'd I upward go ; I 'le grovel here on Earth no more , More high than Envy's self can soar , I leave Mortality and things below : Not Me , not Me , the meanly Born , Whom the proud Fools and haughty scorn , Not Me shall Death controul : Not I , whom you I know not what , Mecaenas , call , will yield to Fate : Nor shall the Stygian Waves confine my Soul : Rough Skin o're both my Legs is spread , And shining Feathers Crown my Head ; Above I 'me turn'd a Swan : O're both my Hands light Plumes do spring , My Arm is chang'd into a Wing , And now I move with greater speed than Man : On stronger , and on swifter Wing , Than Icarus fled , I rise and Sing : A sounding Bird I soar , I 'le see the distant Northern Pole I 'le see the Southern Billows roul , And spread my Wings o're Bosphorus groaning Shore . My Songs shall to the Colchian Ears , And German that conceals his fears Of Roman Troops be known : The Moors , and in my numerous Verse The Scythians Skill'd shall Songs rehearse : The Spaniard too , and He that drinks the Rhone . Mourn not , no friendly drops must fall , No sighs attend my Funeral , Those Common Deaths may crave : Let no disgraceful Grief appear , Nor damp my Glory with a Tear : And spare the useless Honors of a Grave . The End of the Second Book . HORACE'S ODES . Book the Third . ODE I. Not Wealth or Honor , but Peace and Quietness makes a happy Life . BEgon , begon , I hate ye all Both you great Vulgar , and you small ; Nor Mysteries , Prophane , behold : To Boys and Maids unstain'd with Crimes The Muses Priest in Sacred Rhimes Doth unknown Songs , and wondrous Truths unfold : The awful Kings o're Nations sway , Their Subjects tremble and obey ; The Kings themselves are rul'd by Jove , Who broak the Giants Pride , and won Eternal safety to his Throne And by his powerful Nod doth all things move : One man doth larger Fields possess , One stands more fair for Offices , The drudging Darling of the Crowd Whilst One his Manners , or his Friends , Or his Obsequious Train commends , And One in Fame is greater , or in Blood : Yet equal Death doth strike at all , The haughty Great , and humble Small , She strikes with an impartial Hand ; She shakes the vast capacious Urn , And each Man's Lot must take his turn ; Thro every glass she presses equal Sand : Whilst Swords hung o're proud Damocles , Not all the Tyrant's sweets could please : Not Musicks Airs could calm his Breast : The black remembrance of his faults Still crowding back upon his thoughts , Disturb'd and rob'd his troubled Soul of rest . But humble quiet ne're flies o're The lowly Cottage of the Poor : The pleasing Shade and purling Streams She loves to haunt , she loves the Plains , And cheers the Plough-man loos'd from Pains With still Security , and easy Dreams : He that desires but what 's enough Against the force of Fate is proof : Unstain'd He lives , and pure from Sin : Let violent Tempests break the Woods , And angry Whirlwinds toss the Floods ; He still hath Quiet , and a Calm within . Let Hail his ripening Olives beat , Or let them shrink with too much heat , His barren Field deceive his hopes ; Or let his naked Trees complain Of too much Drought , or too much Rain ; Or Frost untimely nip his rising Crops : Now still our stately Squares encrease , The Fish will find their Ocean less ; The Moles thrown in extend the Shoar ; The Lord grown weary of the Land Now builds upon the Ocean's Sand ; And scorns the Bounds that Nature fixt before . But Fear , and Melancholly Cares attend , And where the Master climbs , ascend ; They soon o'retake his flying Mind : Born on by the same nimble gales They press the Poop where e're He sails , And when he rides black Care sits close behind . Well then , since neither Gold , nor Gain , Can quiet bring or fears restrain ; Since Purple bright as shining Stars Can ne're dispel our Cloudy Cares ; Since all the Spices of the East Can never calm our troubled Breast , Why should I madly toyl to raise On envy'd Pillars Palaces ? Why spend my time , and wast my health ? Why should I strive to change my Field , And those delights my Farm can yield , For larger Lands , and more disturbing Wealth ? ODE II. Youth must be bred in Wars and Want , and taught to be Religious . LEt vigorous Boys be train'd to bear The streights of Poverty in War ; Be hardly bred , improve thy Force , And bravely gall the Parthian Horse ; And let the Persians tremble at his Spear : And let him live , and lie abroad Mid'st Dangers , Slaughters , Fears , and Blood ; Be tost with all the Storms of Fate , And hard'ned up to prop the State ; His Country save , and rise into a God : Him from their Walls , when fierce in War , Let Tyrants Mothers view , and fear ; And let their Brides despairing sigh Ah may not my unskilful Spouse That furious Lion madly rouse , How fierce He drives , and how our Armies fly ! He nobly Bleeds , he bravely Dies That falls his Countries Sacrifice ; The flying Youth swift Fate o're takes It strikes them thro the trembling backs , And runs too fast for nimble Cowardice . Vertue , unlearn'd to bear the base And shameful baffle of disgrace , Nor takes , nor quits the tottering Throne , As fickle Crowds shall smile or frown ; Nor from their wavering Breath receives the place : True Vertue that unbarrs the Skie To those that are too brave to Die , Thro wondrous ways doth upward go , Scorns the base Earth and Crowd below ; And with a soaring Wing still mounts on high : And just Rewards the Gods decree For fair , obedient Piety ; Not He that scorns or scoffs His God , Or blabs his Mysteries abroad , Shall live in the same House , or sail with me : Oft Jove doth heedless Thunder throw , And mix the Good and Bad below : But lame Revenge still stalks behind , Do's slowly dodg the guilty mind , And only stays to take the surer blow : ODE IV. To the Muses acknowledging their Power and Kindness . DEscend , my Muse , compose a long A pleasing and a grateful Song , Or to the Pipe or sounding Flute , Or gently move Apollo's Lute : D' ye hear ? or airy frenzy cheat My mind , well pleas'd with the deceit ? I seem to hear , I seem to move And wander thro the happy Grove Where smooth Springs flow , and murmuring Breez Do's wanton thro the waving Trees : In lofty Vultur's rising grounds Without my Nurse Apulia's bounds When young , and tir'd with sport and play , And bound with pleasing sleep I lay , Doves cover'd me with myrtle boughs And with soft murmurs sweetned my repose : A wonder this , and strange to all That liv'd in fat Ferenti's Vale ; High Acherontia , Bantine groves Admir'd the kindness of the Doves : 'T was strange that I midst Thorny Brakes , Secure from Bears and creeping Snakes Should lie so long ; that Doves should spread The Sacred Laurel round my Head , And I a Child not fear the Woods The Care and Darling of the Gods : Yours , Muses , yours , I live your Care On Sabine Hills , or cold Praeneste's Air : Or whether watry Baiae please , Or wanton Tibur lulls me into ease : Because your Springs , your Sport , and Grove Are all the objects of my Love ; When Brutus lost Philippi's Field , I safely fled , and scorn'd my Shield , 'T was Sin to guard or to defend By mortal Arms the Muses Friend : By you the proud Sicilian Rock I brav'd , and scap't the cursed Oak : Whilst you my feeble Ship shall guide , I 'le singly stem the proudest Tide ; I 'le travel thro the farthest East , Where never Mortal foot hath prest ; Britans Inhospitable Flood And Thracians pleas'd with Horses Blood , On Scythian Sands I 'le boldly tread , And stoutly see the quiver'd Mede : When Caesar , great as all our Hopes , In Towns hath hid his weary Troops , You cheer his Soul , you soften Cares , And ease the harsh fatigue of Wars : You , Kind , instruct him how to live , Give good advice , and joy to give : We know , we know how mighty Jove ( Whose guiding Nod rules all above , Who governs with an equal hand The raging Sea , and quiet Land ; Whose easy and Almighty sway The Gods , and Ghosts , and all obey ; ) With Thunder strook bold Titans down , And beat their fury from his Throne ; We know how impious Giants fell From climbing Heaven to deepest Hell : That horrid Troop , those impious Bands , Relying on their numerous hands , Whilst they on Mountains climb'd on high Spread no small terror thro the Sky ; And shady Pelion , rais'd above The high Olympus , frighted Jove : But how could Brawny Mimas rise , How large Porphyrion's frightful size Against the Thunder of the Skies ? How bold Typhaeus aim a stroak , How impious Encel dart his Oak ? Too weak their force , and soon repell'd By Virgin Pallas sounding Shield : Here Vulcan fought , a greedy God , On that side Matron Juno stood ; And Phoebus there , a dreadful Foe Still arm'd with an unerring Bow : Who loves to haunt the Lycian Woods , And in the pure Castalian Floods Wash his loose locks ; who Songs inspires , And fills his Priests with pleasing fires , On Patara and Delos Fame Bestows , and takes from both a Name . Rash force by its own weight must fall , But Pious strength will still prevail ; For such the Gods assist , and bless , But hate a mighty Wickedness . Proud Gyges proves this fatal truth , And hot Orion's lawless youth , E'en Virgin Pallas scarce could scape The Lustful fury of a Rape ; 'Till her Bow reach't him , whilst He strove , With fiercer Darts than those of Love : The Earth on her own Monster thrown Now mourns the ruin of her Son , She grieves that her proud Children fell By Thunder strook to deepest Hell : Nor do hot Aetna's flames decay , Yet cannot eat the load away : Hot Tytius Liver , Vulturs tear , They watch as soon as parts appear , And seize them streight ; the Doom was just , He punisht in the seat of Lust ; Wrath waits on Sin , three hundred Chains Perithous bind in endless pains . ODE V. To AUGUSTUS . Praising him for enlarging their Empire , and discommending Crassus 's Souldiers which draws on the Story of Regulus . HIs Thund'ring proves that mighty Jove With wondrous Force rules all above , And now as mighty Actions show That Caesar is a God below ; O're British Shores our Empires spread , Our Arms have reacht the haughty Mede : Could Crassus Souldiers lead their lives , So meanly yokt to barbarous Wives ? Could they grow old ( degenerate race , Inverted Souls , and Rome's disgrace ? ) In Hostile Arms , the Mede obey And fight for a Barbarians pay ? Forget their Rites , their Name , and Blood , Whilst Jove was safe , and Rome yet stood ! Wise Regulus did this prevent , He scorn'd base Terms that Carthage sent , Nor would he e're by his advice Tempt future Age to Cowardice : He knew that Vertues Crowns would fade Unless the Captive Youth were made Unpittied Preys to barbarous Foes , And bore the Slavery they chose . I saw , said He , our Eagles shine And basely fill a Punick shrine , With hanging Wings our fears upbraid By which they were so soon betray'd : I saw how Coward Armies stood , And yield without a drop of Blood ; I saw when they their Arms resign'd , Their Slavish Hands drawn back behind , I saw our Free-men bound led home , Bound Conquer'd Citizens of Rome ! Their Gates unbar'd , they plough'd the soyl Which Roman Troops did lately spoyl : Redeem'd perhaps more free from fear More fierce they shall return to War , More bold , more careful of their Fame ; You add new losses to your shame : Wool once infected with a stain Ne're takes it's Native white again : And when true Vertue falls , it lies , Prest down , and never cares to rise : If trembling Does when freed from Snares Will fight , then He 'l forget his fears Then He 'l be stout who basely chose To trust the Treachery of his Foes : He , He no doubt , will brave appear , And beat them in another War , Whose Arms could tamely bear the Cords And Whips of domineering Lords , Who sold his precious Liberty For meaner Life , and fear'd to Die : Resolv'd for Life He did not know To which he should his safety owe His Roman Courage or his Fear , And mixt dishonest Peace and War ; Oh shame ! Great Carthage ! rais'd more high On the Disgrace of Italy ! His Wives chast Kiss , his pratling Boys The former Partners of his joys , Now grown a Slave , thrown down by Fate , And less'ned from his former State He shun'd ; with manly modesty On Earth he cast his stubborn Eye Whilst thus by strange advice He fought , And fixt the wavering Senate's Vote ; Then thro his weeping Friends He ran In hast , a glorious banisht man : What Cords and Wheels , what Racks , and Chains , What lingring Tortures for his Pains The Barbarous Hangmen made , He knew ; And hightning Fame told more than true : Yet He his Wife and Boys remov'd , His hindring Friends , and all he lov'd , And thro the Crow'd he made his way That wept , and beg'd a longer stay ; As free as if when Term was done , And Suits at end , He left the Town , From Business and from Cares retreat To the cool pleasures of a Country Seat. ODE VII . To ASTERIA . He tells her that her absent Husband is Constant , and adviseth her to have a care of her solliciting Neighbour . ANd why does fair Asteria mourn ? And why despair of his return ? The first Spring Winds shall thy Dear Love restore , Soft Gales shall waft the charming Youth Of constant and unshaken truth With Wealthy lading to the Roman Shore : He 's driven to a distant Coast , Whilst Winter binds the Floods with Frost ; Sleep grows a Stranger to his Eyes : He mourns in melancholly Creeks , Whilst falling Tears freez on his Cheeks , And lengthens out the lingring Night with sighs : Whilst some from Chiloë strive to move And draw him to another Love ; They tell the fury of her Flame ; They tell how melted in thy Fires The miserable Maid expires , And use all Arts that Treacherous Wit can frame : They tell how Phaedra's treacherous Tears Did urge believing Proetus Fears , And with what Lustful heat she strove ; What Crimes she feign'd to hasten on The Death of chast Bellerophon , And take sharp vengeance for her slighted Love : How neer chast Peleus reacht his Fate And felt the force of Woman's hate , Whilst from Hyppolite He fled ; A Thousand tales , those Bawds to Vice They still force on him , to entice Or fright him to despairing Chloe's Bed : In vain , in vain , He hears no more Than Rocks when Winds and Waters roar ; Nor owns the Conquest of her Eyes : But , fair , take heed , and guard your Heart , And let not fond Eunipe's Art Steal in , and your unguarded Soul surprize . Tho none with equal manly force In Mars his Field can guide his Horse , Tho none appears so brave in Arms ; Tho none with equal Art divides The headlong force of Tiber's Tides , Yet scorn the winning beauty of his Charms : Shut all your doors at Evening's shade , Nor when you hear a Serenade Look down with a regarding Eye : Although he vows , and mourns his pains , And calls Thee cruel , and complains ; Be cruel Still , and more and more deny . ODE VIII . To MECAENAS . Whom He invites to an Entertainment which He made for joy of his deliverance from the falling Tree . VVHat I , a Batchelor , intend My learned Lord , and noble Friend , In Mars his Calends you admire ; What mean those Flowers that Crown my Head , The Coals on green-turf Altars laid Where in small Censures thankful sweets expire : To Bacchus pleasing Feasts I vow'd , And a White Goat's attoning Blood , When I had scap't the falling Oak : This day , as years run round , a Feast , Shall pierce my Casks ; and claim the best , That long stor'd up hath drank digesting Smoak : Drink , drink , let numerous Cups extend The Life of thy deliver'd Friend , Cups large as thy extensive joys : Let watching Tapers chase the Night , Till rising Morn restore the light ; Let mirth attend , and banish Strife and Noise . Forget , forget thy publick Cares , And take no thought for state Affairs , We hear the German Troops o're thrown ; The Medes now hate their Former Lords , They fight , nor yet expect our Swords ; But sadly conquer for us with their own : Our ancient Foe the Pride of Spain The fierce Cantabrian takes the Chain , Tho late , at last He 's forc't to yield : The Parthians fly , the Scythians now Their Arrows break , unstring their Bow , And are resolv'd to quit the fatal Field : Neglect the various turns of State , The sports of Chance , or nods of Fate , Grown private watch not o're Affairs ; But smile , and eagerly receive The Goods the present time can give ; And leave behind the Grave Fatigue of Cares . ODE IX . A Dialogue between Horace and Lydia . WHilst I was welcome to your Heart , In which no happier Youth had part , And full of more prevailing Charms Threw round your neck his dearer Arms ; I flourisht richer , and more blest Than the great Monarch of the East . Lydia . Whilst all thy Soul with me was fill'd , Nor Lydia did to Chloe yield , Lydia the celebrated Name , The only Theme of Verse and Fame , I flourisht more than she renown'd Whose Godlike Son our Rome did found : Horace . Me Chloe now , whom every Muse And every Grace adorn , subdues ; For whom I 'de gladly die to save Her dearer Beautys from the Grave : Lydia . Me lovely Calais doth fire With mutual flames of fierce desire , For whom I twice would die to save His Youth more precious from the Grave : Horace . What if our former Loves return And our first fires again should burn , If Chloe's banisht to make way For the forsaken Lydia ? Lydia . Tho He is shining as a Star , Constant , and Kind as he is Fair ; Though light as Cork , rough as the Sea , Yet I would Live , would Die with Thee Duke . ODE X. He tells Lyde that perhaps He shall not always be able to endure her Scorn . DId Lyde Drink cold Tanais Flood , A Scythians Bride that fed on Blood ; Yet would you grieve to see the Kind , The constant Horace grasp the Floor , Extended by thy cruel Door , Expos'd toth ' fury of the Native Wind. Dost hear what Tempests beat thy Gate ? How all rush on as arm'd with Fate ? And how thy pleasing Groves are tost ? With what severe and piercing light The Moon and Stars now guild the Night , And glaze the scatter'd Snow with hoary Frost ? Thy haughty Pride and Scorn remove , Ingrate and Enemy to Love ; My passions Tide may ebb again ; No Scythian Mother brought Thee forth , And hardned by the freezing North , That ardent Lovers thus should court in vain . If all my Prayers and Gifts are weak , Nor violent paleness of my Cheek The Lover's Livery , can move ; If that thy Husband scorns thy Charms , And takes a Songstress to his Arms , Can n're provoke Thee to my firmer Love. O stiff as Oaks to warm desire Too hard to burn in my soft Fire , As fierce as Snakes on Lybian Shore ; Tho now my patient side can bear Thy Door , the Rain , and piercing Air , Yet time will come when 't will endure no more . ODE XI . To Mercury , and his Shell , whom He desires to move Lyde , and tells the Story of Danaus 's Daughters : SWeet Mercury ( for taught by you The listning Stones Amphion drew ) And pleasing Shell , well skill'd to raise From seven stretcht strings the sweetest Lays ; Once mute , but now a Friend to Feasts , To cheer the Gods , and Rich-mens guests , Play Tunes , as may provoke to hear E'en Lydes coy denying Ear. She like a Colt frisks o're the Plain , A Rider hates , nor takes the Rein ; Unable yet to bear the force And strength of the obliging Horse : You Tigers , you the listning Woods Can draw and stop the rapid Floods , E'en Cerberus thy force confest , Well-pleas'd He lay , and lull'd in rest , Tho thousand hissing Serpents spread And guard around his horrid Head , And Gore foam'd round his tripple Tongue He gently list'ned to thy Song : Ixion , Tytius heard below , And smil'd but with a gloomy Brow : The leaky Tub a while was dry , And Danaus Race stood idle by , Whilst thy harmonious Tunes did please They smil'd at their unusual ease ; Begin sweet Lays , let Lyde hear What Crimes they did , what Pains they bear , Tell how their Tub can nought retain , But still gives space for idle pain ; How Vengeance comes , tho moving slow , And strikes the guilty Souls below : They could , ( could Hell contrive a blacker deed ) Their Husbands stab , and smile to see them bleed : But one more Worthy of the Name of Wife The hopes and end of every Virgin 's Life , Her perjur'd Father bravely disobey'd , And lives thro future Age a glorious Maid : With Love and Pity in her look She wakt her Spouse , and thus she spoke , Fly , fly , lest Fate should seize thy breath , And sleep be lengthned into Death : Fly , fly , thy unexpected Fate , My Sisters Rage , and Fathers Hate , Like Lionesses on a Steer They grin , and tear , ah me ! they tear : More tender I 'le not strike the blow , Nor keep Thee from a fiercer Foe : Me let me Father load with Chains , Joyn Wit and Cruelty in Pains ; Me let him send to Lybian Shores , Mid'st Poysnous Snakes , and swarthy Moors , For saving you , I 'le gladly bear , Nor show I 'me Woman by a Tear : Fly , fly , dear Partner of my Bed , Whilst Night can hide , and Venus lead , Fly , fly , let happy Omens wait , And guide Thee thro gloomy Fate ; Remember me , and o're my Grave Write this in a complaining Epitaph : ODE XII . He congratulates Neobule 's Happiness who lov'd a deserving Man. 'T Is hard to be deny'd to prove The soft Delights of pleasing Love , 'T is hard to be deny'd to play , And with sweet Wine wash Cares away , Still to be tost with doubting fear Lest angry Friends should prove severe , And with sharp chidings wound our Ear. Young wanton Cupid's Darts and Bow Have forc't thy Spindle from Thee now , Thy Wool , and all Minerva's toyls Are charming Hebre's Beauties spoyls ; He lives thy minds continual Theme , And you can think on nought but him ; Hebre , a Youth of Manly force , None sits so well the manag'd Horse ; Bellerophon would strive in vain To guide with so gentile a Rein : In all He shows a Manly grace , In Cuffing stout and swift in Race , When His oyl'd Arms have cut the Flood In swimming strong ; He takes the Wood , Thro Plains pursues the flying Doe , And shoots with an unerring Bow ; Or else for Bores His Toyls He sets , And takes them foaming in his Nets . ODE XII . To His pleasant Spring . BLundusia's Spring more clear than Glass , That bubbles thro the rising Grass : Thee Wine should sweeten , Crowns adorn , But now a wanton Ridgling dies A Pious humble Sacrifice , His flowing blood shall Paint the rising Morn : With budding Horns He dares to fight ; His fury hastens to delight ; Courage with Love together grows : In vain , in vain ; His wanton Blood Shall surely stain thy cooler Flood , And pay the mighty Debt his Master owes : The furious Dog-Stars burning Beams In vain attempt thy living Streams , In vain they strike thy Sacred Deep ; You yield delightful liquid Snow To Oxen wearied with the Plow , And cool the thirsty Heat of wandring Sleep : You rankt shall be midst noble Springs , And high in Fame , whilst Horace Sings , The shady Beech that rising grows Where , by great Neptune's Trident strook A Passage opens thro the Rock And whence thy prattling Stream of Water flows . ODE XIV . He resolves to be merry at Caesars return . CAesar , who like Alcides , Rome , Did march to bring the Laurel home , Bought with his Death ; from distant Spain Is now return'd in Peace again : Let Caesar's Queen , with one content With Pious thanks just Gods present ; His Sister too , as bright in Charms And great as Caesar in his Arms : And you whose Sons kind Fates restore With humble modesty adore ; Ye smiling Maids , ye Girls and Boys And you that tast the Marriage joys , With Mirth salute our Conquering Lord , Nor drop one inauspicious Word . This Day , to me a real Feast , Black Cares shall banish from my Breast : I 'le fear no Tumults , fear no Pains , Nor violent Death , whilst Caesar Reigns : Boy bring me Oyl , and Crowns prepare , And Wine that knew the Marsian War , If any Cask could hidden lie From wondring Spartacus his Eye : Bid sweet Neoer a spread her Charms , And hast to fly into my Arms , But if the Cursed Porter stay , And ask Thee questions ; Come away : Now Snowy time hath coold my rage , I am not eager to engage , But yet I know when I was wont To storm at such a rude affront ; Whilst Youth was warm , but Love is cold , And I can bear now I am old . ODE XV. He adviseth an Old Woman to be Modest . THou Wife of Ibycus the Poor , Forbear , and toy in Love no more , Confine thy Lust and end thy shame , Nor strive to blaze with dying flame : Now near to Death that comes but slow , Now Thou art stepping down below : Sport not amongst the Blooming Maids But think on Ghosts , and empty Shades : What suits with Pholoe in her bloom , Gray Chloris will not Thee become , A Bed is different from a Tomb : Thy Daughter with a better Grace Tho wrinkles plough her wither'd Face , Might burn , and rage , break Young Men's doors , And wast the Relicks of her hours ; Let Nothus Love force her to play Like wanton Kids i th' heat of May ; Lucerian Wool with Purple stain'd Not Harps become thy wither'd hand , The Purple Rosy Crowns disgrace The Earthy paleness of thy Face ; And Drink until the Hogshead 's dry , Then suck the dreggs , no blood will fly To thy pale Cheek , nor softness to thy Eye . ODE XVI . All things obey Gold. ATower of Brass , Gates strong and barr'd , And watchful Dogs suspicious Guard From creeping Night Adulterers , That fought imprison'd Danae's Bed , Might have secur'd one Maiden-Head ; And freed the old Acrisius from his fears : But Jove and Venus soon betray'd The jealous Guardian of the Maid , They knew the way to take the hold ; They knew the Pass must open lie To every hand and every Eye , When Jove himself was Bribe , and turn'd to Gold : Gold loves to break through Gates and Barrs , It is the Thunderbolt of Warrs ; It flies thro Walls , and breaks a way , By Gold the Argive Augur fell , It taught the Children to rebel , And made the Wife her fatal Lord betray : When Engines , and when Arts do fail , The golden Wedg can cleave the Wall ; Gold Philip's Rival Kings o'rethrew ; Rough Sea-men , stubborn as the Flood And angry Seas that they have Plow'd , Bribes quickly snare , and easily subdue : Care still attends encreasing store , And craving Appetite for more ; Mecaenas , Honor of our Knights , How justly was thy Friend afraid To raise his too conspicuous Head And soar too lofty , and to envy'd heights ? Those that do much themselves deny , Receive more blessings from the Sky : I love a mean , and safe retreat ; And naked now with hast retire To Humble Those who nought desire ; And joy to leave the Party of the Great : In my scorn'd Farm a greater Lord Than if my crowded Barns were stor'd With all the stout Appulian reaps ; Than if to Me Pactolus ran And roul'd in flowing Tides of gain , Whilst I was Poor amidst my mighty heaps , A purling Spring , a shady Grove To raise my Song , and ease my Love , My Farm that ne're deceives my hopes Make me seem happier to the Wise , Tho not to base and vulgar Eyes , Than He that boasts his Fruitful Lyha's Crops : Tho no Calabrian Bees do give Their grateful Tribute to my Hive , No Wines by Rich Compania sent In my Ignoble Casks ferment ; No Flocks in Gallick Plains grow Fat , Yet I am free from pinching want , And beg'd I more , my Lord would grant ; And to my Wishes equal my Estate : But now more safe , and more securely blest Than if my Hand grasp't East and West : He , that asks much , must still want more ; Happy , to whom Indulgent Heaven Enough , and sparingly hath given , And made his Mind as narrow as his Store . ODE XVII . He adviseth his noble Friend Aelius Lamias to live merrily . GReat Sir from ancient Lamus Sprung , As noble a descent , as long ; ( From Him , the Spring , thy generous Blood In undisturbed Streams has flow'd ; From him the Lamias took their name , And swell the Annals of our Fame , Thy generous Blood rould nobly down From him that fill'd the Formian Throne Where swoln with Rain , swift Liris roars , And washes fair Marica's Shores , A Potent Scepter grac't his Hand , And measur'd out a wide Command ) To morrow furious Winds shall spread The troubled Shore with useless Weed , And fill the Woods with scatter'd Leaves , Unless the cawing Crow deceives , The Crow that still foretells a Rain And Storm , and never caws in vain : Now Pile thy Wood whilst sound and dry , To morrow morn a Pig shall die , And Wine shall cheer thy Slaves and Thee , From Country Toyl , and Business free , And all enjoy a short liv'd Liberty . ODE XVIII . To FAUNUS . Whose Favour and Protection He desires . FAunus that flying Nymphs pursues , And Courts as oft as they refuse , If Yearly Ridglings stain thy Grove , If the large Bowl the Friend of Love , Still flows with Wine ; if Prayers invoke , And thy old Shrines with Odors smoak , Defend my Fields , and sunny Farm , And keep my tender Flocks from harm : Or'e grassy Plains the wanton Flocks , The Village with their idle Ox , Sport o're the Fields , all finely drest When cold December doth restore thy Feast : The Lambs midst ravenous Wolves repose , The Wood to thee spreads rustick Boughs , The Ditcher with his Country Jugg , Then smiles to Dance where once he dugg . ODE XIX . A merry Ode to his Friend who was a Student . HOw many years divide Old Inachus and Codrus Reign Who for his Country bravely dy'd , You seek with mighty pain , These are the idle Labors of thy Brain . Old Aeacus you can derive from Jove , And tell what mighty Kin he had above , You all the Trojan Wars can write , But never mind what Wine will cost , Who make a Feast , and who invite , And who a Fire prepares at Night Now Winter spreads the Fields with hoary Frost . A Glass ! come fill me to the rising Moon , To Midnight , and to Morning one ; Wee 'l never part whilst Stars do shine ; Forget thy Books , those idle Dreams , Fill round , Three Bowls or Nine Are sober Jollity's extreams . He that th' uneven Muses loves , With Three times Three his heat improves , A staring Poet , rais'd by every Bowl ; The sober Grace with th' naked two , Afraid of Brawls , but Three allow , And only cheer , but never heat the Soul : I must be Mad , what means the Flute ? Why hangs the Pipe and silent Lute ? I hate a niggard , quickly spread The sweetest Roses round my Head ; Let Lycus hear the roaring noise , And she the Neighbouring Miss That doth his feeble Love despise , And let them pine , and envy at our joys : Thee Beauteous with thy bushy Hair , And like the brightest Evening Star Ripe Chloë seeks with warm desires ; Whilst I a dull expecting Fop Still linger on with lazy hope , And slowly melt in Glycera's tormenting Fires . ODE XX. He adviseth his Friend not to strive to part a Lover and his Mistriss . DOst see what Dangers must attend , Thy Pious Duty to thy Friend ; 'T is hard to rob a Tygress of her Young : Ah bafled , Thou shalt soon retreat , And midst the shame of a defeat Unequal Foe confess her force too strong . When she with Fury rais'd shall move Thro throngs of Youth that offer Love , And strive to win her Heart ; to seize the Fair ; Then shall we see who wins the Day , And who shall seize the Beauteous Prey , And in Nearchus have the greatest share : Whilst you your winged Arrows draw , She whets her Teeth , and spreads her paw ; Whilst he that must bestow the Prize Sits unconcern'd with gloting Eyes ; On all around his Amorous glances spread , His perfum'd loose and wanton Hair , Permitting to the waving Air , As sweet as Nireus or as Ganymed . ODE XXII . He Dedicates his Pine to Diana . KInd Guardian of my Hills and Grove Who thrice implor'd dost hear , and save The teeming Women from the Grave , Great here on Earth , in Hell , and great Above . This Tree be thine that long hath stood To shade my House ; as Years roul round A Bore that Aims a side-ways wound Shall Yearly stain the Trunk with offer'd Blood. ODE XXIII . Innocence pleases Heaven more than Sacrifice . A Fat and costly Sacrifice Is not the welcom'st Tribute to the Skys , They 'r more delighted with the small expence Of Honesty and Innocence . Let rustick Phydile prepare At each new Moon an humble Prayer , And at her old Penates Shrine Pour one small bowl of Country Wine , And stain their Altars with a greedy Swine ; No scorching Winds shall blast her fruit , Her Corn be free from barren smut ; Nor let her darling Children fear The shivering Agues of the dying Year . The Sacrifice Albanian Pastures feed , Or Snowy Algidum's cold Mountains breed ' Midst fruitful Oaks a pamper'd Beast , Shall stain the Axes of the Priest : But why should You profusely try With slaughter'd Flocks to bribe the Sky , Since Myrtle Crowns , and from the neighbouring Flood Few sprinkled drops shall please the God More than whole Rivers of their offer'd blood ? If with an unpolluted hand , Which neither Blood nor wicked Arts have stain'd , A little Meal and Salt you bring 'T will prove a more prevailing Offering Than all the Spices of the Eastern King. ODE XXIV . Nothing can secure a Man from Death , And Covetousness is the Root of all Evil. THough You had all the Spice and Gold Arabia sweats , and the rich Indies hold ; Tho You extend Your Palaces O're the Tyrrhene , and Pontick Seas ; When strong Necessity Shall fix her Adamantine hooks on Thee , When she shall drag away The trembling melancholy Prey , Not all thy Wealth shall save Thy Mind from fear , or body from the grave . Happier the wandring Scythians live , Who all their house in one small Waggon drive , Where no unequal bounds Do parcel out the Land in private grounds , The Corn grows freely for the Common good ; And when one Year their Fields they plow'd , They sit at Ease , whilst others toyl , And equal pains manure the Publick Soil . There all the Cups the Step-dames hands present To unsuspecting Heirs are innocent : No Wife confiding on her Dower , Or rich Gallant usurps her Husband's Power ; None there a lawless sway pretends , Her Portion is the vertue of her Friends , And cautious Modesty That closer draws the marriage tye , They fear to sin , or sinning doom'd to dye . He that would prize his Country's good , And stop the Issue of our Civil blood ; He that would stand in Brass as fixt as Fate , Be nam'd the Father of the State ; Let him restrain this Brutal rage : A glorious Man in future age ! Since Envious We despise Vertue when present , when it flyes Stand and gaze after it with longing Eyes ! But sad Complaints are vain , Vice only yields to pain , Her Sword strict Justice needs must draw , And cut it off by necessary Law ; And what are Laws ! State Pageantry ! Unless obey'd With the same reverence they were made , Unless our Manners and the Rules agree ! The Merchants dare to cut the Line , Where beams still boyl the Metal in the Mine , Nor can the frigid Coast That lyes bound up with lazy Frost , Nor all the Snow and Northern Ice , E're cool the Sailer's flaming Avarice ; In feeble Ships they dare to ride And boldly stem the highest Tide , When scarce three inches them and Death divide , For Poverty that great disgrace Still drives them on the vicious race ; Whilst Vertue 's Paths that lead on high Untrod and unfrequented lie , Few think it worth their while to climb the Sky . To Jove's great Shrine let Romans bring Their Wealth , a grateful Offering ; For those that thus their Treasures spend , Just blessings Crown , and joyful shouts attend : Or in the Neighbouring flood Let 's cast our Jewels and our Gold , For which we have our Vertue sold , Our Gold the dear-bought cause of all our blood : Wealth , form'd near Hell , when here on Earth Brings up the cursed Region of its birth . If we repent , and hate the Crimes And Follies of our own and Father's times , We must root out the very seeds of Sin , And plant new Vertue in ; The Soil is soft , and if manur'd with care , And manly Arts , may bear A fruitful Crop , Vertue may sprout again , And with a Vast encrease reward the Tiller's pain . Our Nobles Sons with an unequal force Now scarce can sit the Manag'd Horse , They Hate the Ring , nor dare to ride the Course : But Cards , unlawful Dice , And all the mysteries of Vice That Greece e're taught , or Rome improv'd they know , For these they nobler Deeds forgoe ; These are their Arts , their chief delights , The Pleasures of their days , and study of their nights . Mean while their perjur'd Fathers cheat , Grow grey in base Oppression , and Deceit ; To their best Friends their Oaths are Snares , Whilst at the vast Expence Of Honesty and Innocence , They Heap up Wealth for their unworthy Heirs . Their Stores encrease , and yet , I know not what , Still they do something want , Which neither pains can get , nor Heav'n can grant , To swell their Narrow to a full Estate . ODE XXVI . Now being grown Old , he bids farewel to Love. ONce I was gay , and great in Charms , Success still waited on my Arms , In Venus Battles bravely stout , I fought , and conquer'd when I fought : But now my Arms and wanton Lyre Whose tunes could spread Harmonious fire , Whose moving stroaks could soon impart Soft wishes to the tender heart , My Torches , Leavers , Darts and Bows That broak the Doors that did oppose , That did all Obstacles remove , Which hindred my pursuit of Love , In Venus Shrine unheeded lie With all my Love's Artillery : Great Goddess who o're Cyprus reigns , And scorching Memphis burning Plains , Let coy and scornful Chlöe know The fury of thy Cupid's Bow ; And let her smart for her disdain , Enflame her Breast , and I shall love again . ODE XXVIII . To Lyde , On Neptune 's Festival . VVHat should I do at Neptune's Feast , What better should my thoughts employ , What should I do but treat my guest , And show the greatness of my Joy ? Wine , Lyde , Wine ; storm sober Sense , My Bowl is strong , and that will make a weak defence . Do'st see how half the day is past ? And yet as if wing'd Time would stay , You still the precious minutes wast ; And lead me on with slow delay . Wine , Lyde , Wine ; to raise my flame , Old lusty Wine , and seal'd with Bibulus's name . I 'le sing great Neptune bound by Rocks , I 'le sing the Nereids Sea-green hair ; And how they sit , and spread their locks To tempt the greedy Mariner : You to your Harp Latona sing , And Cynthia's Arrows shot from an unerring string . Both her who drawn by murmuring Doves To Paphos guides with silken strings , Whilst Cupids wait , and wanton Loves Fan their warm Mother with their wings : Just songs and thanks shall praise the Night , For lingring Long , and giving space for gay delight . ODE XXIX . He invites Mecaenas to an Entertainment . MY noble Lord of Royal Blood , That from the Tuscan Monarchs flow'd , I have a Cask ne're pierc'd before ; My Garlands wreath'd , my Crowns are made , My Roses pluckt to grace thy head ; As fair and sweet as e're Praeneste bore . Make hast , my Lord , and break away From all the Shackles of delay , From watry Tibur's Fields retreat : Let not low Aesula delight , Nor let her Vales detain thy sight , Or Parricide Telegonus his Seat. From thy disgusting Plenty fly , Thy Palace leave that mounts on high And hides her head in bending Clouds ; Admire no more ( but quickly come ) The Wealth , the noise , and smoak of Rome , That happy Mansion of our future Gods. Changes have often pleas'd the Great , And in a Cell a homely treat ; But sweet and good , and cleanly drest , Tho no rich Hangings grace the Rooms , Or Purple wrought in Tyrian Looms , Have smooth'd a careful brow , and calm'd a troubled breast . The Dog 's and Lion's fury rise , With doubled beams they scorch the Skys ; The Swains retire to mid-day dreams : The bleating Flocks avoid the heat , And to the Springs and Shades retreat ; And not one breath of Air curles o're the Streams . Whilst You still watch the turns of Fate , The careful guardian of our State ; Intent on what the Mede prepares : What leads the quiver'd Persian forth , What moves the Bactrian , and the North , Are the distracting Objects of thy Cares . Future Events Wise Providence Hath hid in Night from humane Sence , To narrow bounds our search confin'd : And laughs to see proud Mortals try To fathom deep Eternity With the short Line and Plummet of their Mind . Those Joys the present Hours produce Take thankfully , my Lord , and use ; All other things like Rivers flow , In their own Channels thro the Plain They fall into the Tuscan Main , And bless the Country as they go : When Rain hath rais'd the quiet Floods , Whilst Neighbouring Mountains all around Are fill'd , and Eccho with the sound , They whirl the eaten Rocks and Woods , And drown the growing Labors of the Plow . He 's Master of himself alone , He lives , that makes each day his own : He lives that can distinctly say It is enough , for I have liv'd to day : Let Jove to morrow smiling rise , Or let dark Clouds spread o're the Skys : He cannot make the pleasures void Nor sower the sweets I have enjoy'd , Nor call that back which winged hours have born away . Still Fortune plays at fast and loose , And still maliciously jocose , Her cruel sport she urges on ; Now smiles on me , on Me bestows , And then upon another throwes Vast heaps of Wealth , and takes them back as soon . When e're she stays with what she brings I 'me pleas'd , but when she shakes her Wings , I streight resign my just pretence ; I give her back her fading Gold : My self in my Vertue fold , And live content with Want and Innocence . When spreading Sails rough Tempests tear , I make no lamentable Prayer ; I do not bargain with the Gods , Nor offer costly Sacrifice To save my precious Tyrian dys From Adding Riches to the Greedy Floods . E'en ' midst these Storms I 'le safely ride , My Bark shall stem the highest Tide ; Tho Tempests toss , and th' Ocean raves , Castor shall gather gentle Gales , And Pollux fill my spreading Sails , And bear me safe thro the Aegean Waves . ODE XXX . He promiseth himself Eternity . 'T Is finish't ; I have rais'd a Monument More strong than Brass , and of a vast extent : Higher than Egypt's statelyest Pyramid , That costly Monument of Kingly Pride ; As High as Heaven the top , as Earth the Basis wide : Which eating showers , nor North wind 's seeble blast , Nor whirling Time , nor flight of Years can wast : Whole Horace shall not dye , his Songs shall save The greatest portion from the greedy Grave : Still fresh I 'le grow , still green in future praise , Till Time is lost , and Rome it self decays ; Till the chief Priest and silent Maid no more Ascend the Capitol , and Jove adore : Where violent Aufid rouls thro humble Plains , And where scorch'd Daunus rul'd the labouring Swains , There shall my fame resound , there all shall cry 'T was I , the great from mean descent , 't was I That first did dare to bind the Grecian Song , And unknown numbers in the Roman tongue : Muse take thy Merits due , and proudly raise Thy Head , and gladly Crown my Brows with Bays . The End of the Third Book . ODES . Book the Fourth . ODE I. To VENUS . 1. He is now grown Old and unfit for Love. 2. Desires her to go and visit Young Paulus . 3. Yet He still thinks on his lovely Boy Ligurine . 1. LOng interrupted War Thou Venus dost again renew , And former hate pursue ; Oh spare , for Pitty , Venus , spare . I am not what I was In lovely Cynera's easy Reign When heat warm'd every Vein , And manly Beauty filld my Face . Cease Queen of soft Desires To bend my Mind grown stiff with Age , And fifty years engage To crackle in thy wanton Fires . But Youth and Beauty hear , Go where their tender wishes call , And let their sighs prevail ; Go free young Virgins of their fear . 2. There is a Noble game , In Paulus House , go drive thy Doves , And revel with thy Loves , His Heart deserves thy choicest Flame : For He is great in Charms , The chiefest Honor of the Bar , He 'l make successful War , And spread the Glory of thy Arms : When He the lovely smiles , When he the happy Man shall prove , And win by naked Love His giving Rivals costly spoyls ; Of Cedar grac't with Gold , A stately Pile shall proudly rise As glorious as the Skies , And thy blest Image gladly hold ; Before Thee thrice a day With Incense sweet thy Shrine shall smoke , And Boys and Maids invoke , And dance , and praise Thee as they pray ; In wanton order move , Whilst Pipe , and Flute , and charming Lyre Compose the joyful Quire , And naked all , and fit for Love. No Maids , no wanton Boys , No Empty hopes of mutual Love My feeble passions move , Or quicken my dead Soul to joys : E'en Crowns and VVine displease , I cannot roar and drink all Night , Old Age doth cramp Delight , And lead me down to lazy Ease : 3. But Ah! what 's this my Dear ! Dear Ligurine , ah tell me why These drops forsake my Eye , And tender sighs fan every tear . Why doth my flowing Tongue In unbecoming silence fall ? And why do sighs prevail , And in the midst surprise my Song ? Thee , Thee , my lovely Boy , Now now I clasp , and now in Dreams Pursue o're Fields , and Streams ; Thee , Thee , my Dear , my flying Joy. ODE II. To ANTONIUS JULUS . 1. None can imitate Pindar . 2. Commends Antony , and proposes Caesar 's Actions as a fit subject for his Muse . 1. HE that to equal Pindar trys , With Waxen wings he vainly flys Too near exalted Fame ; And must expect a Fate like his Who fell , and gave the Sea a name . As violent Rivers swoln with Rain , Break o're the neighbouring fruitful Plain With an impetuous stream ; So Pindar doth all Banks disdain , And overflows the highest Theme . In all He doth deserve the Crown Whether He rushes boldly on , And rouls new words along ; Through lawless Dytherambicks thrown ; Or Thunders in a looser Song : Or Gods , or Gods next Kindred Kings , In mighty numbers mighty things , Or valiant Heroes names That kill'd the Centaurs , nobly sings , And quench'd the fierce Chimaera's flames . Or praised him that swiftly rode , And Crown'd return'd almost a God From the Olympian race ; Or Verses on the Brave bestow'd , More sounding and more strong than Brass . Or softly sings with pious grief A Youth snatcht from his weeping Wife , And bears their names on high , Their vertuous manners pleasant life , And doth forbid their Loves to dye . The Theban Swan vast whirls of Air Thro highest Regions swiftly bear When he designs to rise , When He his lofty head doth rear And shoots it thro the Cloudy Skies . I like a Bee with toil and pain Fly humbly o're the flowry Plain , And with a busy tongue The little Sweets my Labors gain , I work at last into a Song . 2. But You shall sing in higher strains What Conquests mighty Caesar gains , How great his Pomp appears , When justly Crown'd he leads in Chains The German Trophies of his Wars . Greater than him no Age can know , Nor , if they would , the Gods bestow ; No , they can bless no more If they their bounty strove to show , And would the Golden Age restore : Then thou shalt sing our feasting days , Our City's Joy , and publick Plays At Caesar's wisht return : Then thou shalt sing how strife decays , And Courts their peaceful Clients mourn . And there if any patient Ear My Muses feeble Song will hear My voice shall sound thro Rome : Thee , Sun , I 'le sing , Thee , lovely fair ; Thee , Thee I 'le praise when Caesar's come : As you great Poet march along From every Heart and every Tongue A joyful sound shall move , Io Triumph be the Song , VVhilst Incense smoaks to Gods above : Ten fair large Bulls , ten lusty Cows Must dy to pay thy richer Vows ; Of my small stock of Kine A Calf just wean'd now Youthful grows In Pastures fat to fall for mine : Unus'd to push doth wildly run , And as the third-days rising Moon So bend his tender horns ; All over Red , but where alone A milky spot his front adorns . ODE III. To his Muse . By her favor he gets immortal Reputation . AT whose blest birth propitious rays The Muses shed , on whom they smile No dusty Isthmian game Shall stoutest of the Ring proclaim , Or to reward his toyl Wreath Ivy Crowns , or grace his head with Bays . Nor Victor , Laurel round his Brows , In an Achean Chariot ride : No glorious feats of War His happy Skill , and Arms declare When He hath broke the pride , And baffled dreadful threats of haughty Foes . But fruitful Tibur's shady Groves , It s pleasant Springs and purling Streams , Shall raise a lasting name , And set him high in sounding same , For Lyric Verse the noblest Themes , Great as his Mind , and various as his Loves . Rome Empress of the Nation 's Writes , Writes me amongst the Lyrick Train ; And hence I Honor raise , Immortal Love and lasting praise Secure from fears , and pain , For sharp-tooth'd Envy now but faintly bites . Sweet Muse that tun'st the charming Lyre , And draw'st soft sounds from stubborn string , That can'st the Envious please And soften fury into ease , Teach silent Fish to sing , And tunes as sweet as dying Swans inspire . 'T is thine , sweet Muse , thy gift alone , That as I walk all cry 't is He ; That warms with Lyrick fire , 'T is He that tunes the Roman Lyre ; And that I please , I own , Suppose I please , I have it all from Thee . ODE V. GReat Hero's Son , Rome's gratious Lord , How long shall we thy absence mourn ! Thy promis'd self at last afford , Rome's sacred Senate begs : Return . Great Sir restore your Country light ; When your auspitious beams arise , Just as in Spring , the Sun 's more bright , And fairer days smile o're the Skys . As tender Mothers wait their Sons Whom Storms have tost above a Year , And every nimble day that runs They load with vows , and pious fear , They ne're their Eys from th' Shores remove , Longing to see their Sons restor'd ; Thus Rome , inspir'd with Loyal Love , Expects her great , her gracious Lord. The Ox doth safely Pastur● trace , And fruitful Ceres fills our Plains , The Merchant sails o're quiet Seas , And unstain'd Faith , and Vertue reigns . No base Adultry stains our Race , Strickt Law hath tam'd that spotted Vice ; The Child can show his Father's face ; Pain waits on Sin , and checks its rise . Who doth the dreadful Germans fear The Scythian Rage , or Parthian Bow , Or Who the threatning Spaniards War , Whilst Caesar lives , and rules below ? In his own Hills each sets his Sun ; To Widow Elms he leads his Vine , And chearful , when his toyls are done , Invokes Thee o're a Glass of Wine : To Thee our Prayers , and Wines do flow To Thee the Author of our Peace , As much as grateful Greece can show , To Castor , or great Hercules : Long may You live , your days be fair , Bestow long Feasts , and long Delight ; This is our sober morning Prayer , And these our drunken Vows at Night . ODE VI. To Apollo and Diana . GReat God , whom Niobe's Race did know A sharp revenger of a haughty Tongue , Whom Lustful Titus wrong Provokt to draw his fatal Bow ; And stout Achilles found too great a Foe . Tho fierce in Arms , tho Thetis Son , Tho Death did wait upon his Sword , and Fear , Attended on his Spear ; Tho wretched Troy almost or'e thrown Confest his force , He bow'd to Thee alone . Like Oaks which biting Axes wound , Or Cypress tall which furious Storms divide He spread his ruin wide : He felt the fatal Dart , He groan'd And hid his noble Head in Trojan ground : Not He in great Minerva's Horse Had cheated Troy , and Priam's heedless Court Dissolv'd in Wine and Sport ; But hot , and deaf to all remorse Had fiercely storm'd our Walls with open force : And when strong Fates had Troy or'come Too savage He , ah ! ah ! with Grecian Flames Had burnt the breeding Dames , And in their Mothers burning Womb , Poor harmless Infants found a hated Tomb : But your kind Prayers , and Venus Face Prevail'd on Fate , made angry Juno kind , And bent Jove's mighty mind To grant a more auspicious place To raise a Town for great Aeneas Race : Fain'd Artist on the Muses Lyre , That bath'st thy yellow Locks in Zanthus Flood , Sweet , smooth-fac't charming God , Improve the rage thou didst inspire , Encrease my heat and still preserve my Fire : From Phoebus all my fancy came , 'T was Phoebus first that taught me how to sing , And strike the speaking string ; He Art inspir'd , He rais'd my Fame , And gave the glory of a Poet's name : You noble Maids , and noble Boys , The chast Diana's chiefest care below , Whose dreadful Darts and Bow , Fierce Tygers fear ; observe my voice , Observe the measures of the publick joys : Just praises give Latona's Son ; And sing the Moon with her encreasing light The beauteous Queen of Night , Kind to our Fruits , and swift alone To turn the headlong Months , and whirl 'em down . When Marriage bands confine thy Love Then boast , as years brought round the Feast , I plaid The Tunes that Horace made ; I sang his Verse ; and This did prove A pleasing Tribute to the Gods above . ODE VII . To MANLIUS TORQUATUS . The Spring coming on , from the consideration of our frail State , He invites him to be merry . THe Snows are gone , and Grass returns again , New Leaves adorn the Widow Trees The unswoln Streams their narrow banks contain , And softly role to quiet Seas : The decent Nymphs with smiling Graces joyn'd , Now naked dance i' th' open Air They frolick , dance , nor do they fear the Wind That gently wantons thro their Hair. The nimble hour that turns the Circling Year And swiftly whirls the pleasing Day , Forewarns Thee to be Mortal in thy Care Nor cramp thy Life with long delay : The Spring the Winter , Summer wasts the Spring , And Summers beauty's quickly lost , When drunken Autumn spreads her drooping Wing And next cold Winter creeps in Frost . The Moon t is true her Monthly loss repairs , She streight renews her borrow'd light ; But when black Death hath turn'd our shining years , There follows one Eternal Night . When we shall view the gloomy Stygian Shore , And walk amongst the mighty Dead Where Tullus , where Aeneas went before : We shall be Dust , and empty shade : Who knows if stubborn Fate will prove so kind , And joyn to this another day ? What e're is for thy greedy Heir design'd , Will slip his Hands , and fly away : When thou art gone , and Minos Sentence read , Torquatus there is no return , Thy Fame , nor all thy learned Tongue can plead , Nor goodness shall unseal the Urn : For Chast Hyppolytus Diana strives , She strives , but ah ! she strives in vain ; Nor Theseus Care , and Pious force reprieves , Nor breaks his Dear Perithous Chain . ODE VIII . To Marcus Censorinus . Verse is the best and most lasting Present that a Man can send his Friend . I Would be kind , I would bestow Dear Censorine , on all I know , Plate , Statues , Brass prepar'd ; Or Bowls the stoutest Greeks reward : On You my Friend , and half my heart , Some curious Piece of noble Art ; Could I the famous Works command Of Scopa's or Parrhasius hand , One skill'd in Stone , and one in Paint To frame a Man , or make a Saint : The Art declar'd the frame divine , And God appear'd in every Line . But I am poor , and your Estate Too large for these , your Soul too great To want such Toys : but You delight In noble Verse , and I can write ; I 'me rich in these , can please a Friend , And show the worth of what I send : Not stately Pillars rais'd in Brass , Nor Stones inscrib'd with publick Praise , Tho such new Heat and Vigor give , And make the buried Heroes live ; The hasty flight , the wondrous fall , And threats thrown back on Hannibal , Not Impious Carthage bright in flames , His praise , who came increas't in Names From conquer'd Africk , Vertues show With half the Glory Verse can do : If Books were dumb , what small Regard Would Vertue meet , what mean Reward ? And who had Rome's great Founder known Tho sprung from Mars , tho Ilia's Son , If envious silence had with-held , His great Deserts , and Fame conceal'd ? From Shades below , and gloomy Night By Poet's power , and force of Wit Good Eack freed , serenely reigns A Mighty King in happy Plains : The Muse forbids great worth to dye ; On whom she will bestows the Sky : Thus Great Alcides carves the Feast With Jove himself , a noble Guest : Thus shining Castor kindly saves A feeble Ship in roughest Waves ; And Bacchus , crown'd with Ivy , hears Our modest Vows , and speeds our Prayers . ODE IX . To LOLLIUS . His Songs shall never dye ; and he is resolv'd to make his Friend Lollius his Name live for ever . VAin fear to think those Words will dye Which born by Aufid's whirling stream , With unknown Art I first did try In Lyric numbers joyn'd With charming strings to bind , And gently raise my noble Theme . Tho King in Verse great Homer reigns , And doth Equality refuse ; Yet Pindar lives in lofty strains , Alcoeus nobly charms , The Coean Lyrick warms With grave Stesichorus stately Muse : We read Anacreon's wanton toys ; Whilst they our passions gently move , No Envy blasts , no Age destroys ; And Sappho's charming Lyre Preserves her soft desire , And tunes our ravisht Souls to Love. Not only Helen's Heart was fir'd , When basely careless of her fame She Paris Princely Train admir'd , His Curls surprizing grace , His Dress , his Art , his Face , And lewdly fed her lawless Flame . Not Teucer first drew fatal Bows ; Not Troy but once felt Grecian rage ; Not only Stheneleus brav'd his Foes , The great first-born of Fame , That fought , and overcame And lives in Verse to future Age. Not Hector first the glory won Of bravely spending Royal Blood To guard his hopes , his darling Son ; Nor first profuse of Life To save a Vertuous Wife And do his dying Country good . Before that Age a thousand liv'd , And sent surprising Glories forth , But none the silent Grave surviv'd ; In Night their Splendor's gone , They fell , unmourn'd , unknown ; Because no Verse embalms their Worth. What worth doth lazy floth excel , If 't is withheld from sounding Fame ? Thy Glories I will loudly tell , And in immortal Verse Thy living praise reherse , Nor suffer Age to wast thy Name : A Generous Mind in Action bold , Wise in debate , in Council grave , Too strong for all-attracting Gold : Let Fortune frown or smile Thy soul is constant still , In either State 't is great and brave : Not Consul only for one Year , But still the Chair as oft obtain'd As equal justice rul'd the Bar , As oft as Crimes accus'd , And guilty Bribes refus'd With haughty look she nobly Reign'd : Believe not those that Lands possess And shining heaps of useless Ore The only Lords of Happiness , But rather those that know For what kind Fates bestow , And have the Art to use the Store : That have the generous skill to bear The hated weight of Poverty Who more than Death will baseness fear , Who nobly to desend Their Country or their Friend Embrace their Fate , and gladly dye . ODE X. To scornful LIGURINE . Age will come , Beauty wast , and then he will be sorry for his present Pride . AH lovely yet , and great in Charms , Ah coy , and flying from my Arms ! When an unlook't for Beard shall hide And scatter'd hairs spread o're thy Pride ; When all those wanton Curls shall fall , Thy Rosy Color yield to Pale , Thy Cheeks grow wan , thy Body pine , And leave a different Ligurine , Ah thou shalt say , when e're the glass Shall show Thee quite another Face , Ah whilst I was a vigorous Boy , Why did I not this Mind enjoy ! Or since I now so freely burn Why won't my former Face return ! ODE XI . To PHYLLIS . On Mecaenas his Birth Day , He invites her to a Feast . I Keep some Casks of racy Wines Full nine years old ; to Crown thy hair My Parsly grows ; my Ivy twines , To grace thy head , and make Thee fair : My Rooms well furnish'd joy proclaim , My Altar Crown'd with Sacred Wood And Vervine chast , expects her Lamb , And thirsts to drink the promis'd Blood. All hands at work , my Boys and Maids With busy hast the Feast prepare , My Torches raise their trembling Heads And roll dark Volumes thro the Air : But now to tell what joys to Night I call Thee to ; I keep the Ide That April's Month the choice delight Of Sea-born Venus doth divide : A Day of Joy and Mirth appears , And almost dearer than my own ; It shuts Mecaenas former years , And brings another gently on : That Telephus whom you desire A richer Maid , and Beauty gains Young , Wanton , Gay , and full of fire , And holds him fast in pleasing Chains : Burnt Phaëton checks hopes too high , From Heaven by dreadful Thunder thrown ; And Pegasus refus'd to fly And threw his mortal Rider down : The Phillis stop thy rising Flame , And all ambitious thoughts remove , 'T is Sin to hunt too great a Game , And fly at an unequal Love : Come , come , my last , my dearest Miss , The last I can I must adore ; No Face shall e're provoke a Kiss ; And other Beauty warm no more : Come learn , my Dear , some pleasing Song , Which you with a surprising Air Might warble o're your charming Tongue ; For Songs are good to lessen Care : ODE XII . To VIRGIL . He describes the Spring , and invites him to Supper . THe soft Companions of the Spring The gentle Thracian Gales Spread o're the Earth their flowry Wing , And swell the greedy Merchants Sails : The Streams not swoln with melted Snow In fair Meanders play , To quiet Seas they smoothly flow , And gently eat their easy way . The Swallow with the Spring returns , And as she builds her Nest , Her murder'd Itys sadly mourns And sighs , and beats her troubled Breast . The swallow Athens lasting shame , For tho her Cause was just , Her Breast conceiv'd a lawless flame , And ill reveng'd the Tyrant's Lust . The Swain whilst Flocks securely feed Sits down , and sweetly plays , He softly blows his Oaten Reed , And pleaseth Pan with rural Lays : The Season , Virgil , brings us thirst ; And if you Mirth design VVith Noble youths , bring Oyntment first , And I 'le provide Thee racy VVine : For one small Box of Oyntment brought I will a Cask prepare , 'T is strong to tame a lofty thought , Check hopes , and wash down bitter Care. Now if you 'l make a joyful Guest I 'le not , as Nobles do , Bear all the Charges of the Feast But must expect a share from you . Think Life is short , forget thy fears , And eager thoughts of Gain , Short Folly mix with graver Cares , 'T is decent sometimes to be vain . ODE XIII . To LYCE. He insults over her now she is grown old . THe Gods have heard , Lyce , the Gods have heard The Gods have heard my Prayer , As I have wish'd , and you have feard , Your'e old , yet would be counted fair : You toy , you impudently drink to raise Your lazy dull desire , You strive to highten to a blaze VVith your cold breath the dying fire . In vain , 't is all in vain , coy Cupid flys , A better Seat He seeks , In young soft Chloe's Face he lyes , And gently wantons in her Cheeks : Coy he flies o're dry Oaks , he scorns thy Face , Because a furrow'd Brow And hollow Eyes thy form disgrace , And o're thy head Age scatters Snow . Nor can thy costly dress the Eastern Shore VVith all the Gems it bears Thy former lovely Youth restore , Nor bring thee back thy scatter'd Years , Those Years which the Eternal wheel hath spun , And drawn beyond thy Prime , Thro which swift Day hath nimbly run And shut in known Records of Time. VVhere is that Beauty , where that charming Air , That shape , that Amorous Play , Oh what hast thou of her ! of Her ! VVhos 's every look did Love inspire , VVhos 's every breathing fan'd my fire , And stole me from my self away ! To lovely Cynera's Face set next in Fame For all that can surprize , For all those Arts that raise a Flame , And kindly feed it at our Eyes ; But hasty Fate cut charming Cynera short , That Fate that now prepares Old Lyce , old as Daws for sport , And scorn as grievous as her Years . When our hot Youths shall come , and laugh to see The Torch that burnt before ; And kindled aged Lechery , To Ashes fall'n , and warm no more . ODE XIV . To AUGUSTUS . That His Deserts are much greater than any Rewards Rome can bestow . HOw can the Senate's , how the People's care , Tho All with gifts that swell with honors strive , A lasting Monument prepare To make thy glory live , And thy great Name thro future Ages bear ! O greatest Prince the circling Sun can view ! Whom stout Vindilici unlearn'd in fear , From glorious Conquests lately knew How great He is in VVar , And felt that all that Fame had told was true . Brave Drusus led thy conquering Legions on , And fierce Genauns a stubborn Nation broak ; The furious Brenni's force o'rethrown Now gladly take the Yoke , The Glory of their Slavery proudly own . Strong Castles fixt on Mountains vastly high , Almost as high as his aspiring thought , VVith a repeated Victory Thrown down ; He climb'd and fought Where Fear or winged Hope scarce dar'd to fly . Next Elder Nero great in Arms appear'd , And Rhoeti fought ; A sight for Gods to see VVhat slaughters broak their Souls prepar'd For Death with Liberty , And led the Conqueror to high Reward . As raging VVinds with an impetuous Course When stormy Stars assist , do toss the flood , So fierce He breaks thro armed force , Thro Darts and streams of blood And threatning flames He spurs his eager Horse : As branched Aufidus doth Moles disdain , And thro Apulian Fields doth whirl his VVaves , VVhen rais'd by Snow or swoln with Rain , Against his Banks He raves , And threatens Floods to all the fruitful Plain . Thus Claudius violent did in Arms appear , No Bands , no barbarous Troops his force could stay , The Front , the Body , and the Rear Secure he swept away , And o're the Field He scatter'd dreadful War : Whilst You your Forces , You your Counsel lent , What mortal Courage could his Arms oppose ? VVhen to his Aid your Gods you sent , He thunder'd on his Foes , And threw among them Slavery as He went. Since suppliant Egypt in her empty Throne Receiv'd Thee Lord , the Fates that strive to bless , Thy Title to the Empire own By fifteen Years Success ; And still increase the Glory of thy Crown . The fierce Cantabrian not to be o'recome Before thy Arms , the Indian and the Mede , The wandring Scythians lurk at home , And Thee they wisely dread ; O present guard of Italy and Rome ! The Waves that beat the British monstrous shore , Cold Ister , Nile , and Tanais rapid stream , Fierce Spaniards now rebel no more , And Gauls that death contem Lay down their Arms , and quietly adore . ODE XV. He praiseth Augustus . WHen I would sing of noble Fights , Of Lofty things in lofty flights ; Kind Phoebus Harp my Temples strook , The trembling strings in Consort shook , And answer'd to the tunes he spoak : Thy Ship is weak , he said , forbear , And tempt not raging Seas too far . Thy Age , great Caesar , gracious Lord , Hath Plenty to our Fields restor'd : Proud Parthians captive Arms resign To Mighty Jove's and Caesar's Shrine . Now noisy VVars and Tumults cease , And Janus Temple 's barr'd by Peace : Wild Lust is bound in modest chains , And Licence feels just order's reins : Strict Vertue rules , good Laws command ; And banisht Sin forsakes the Land : You all those generous Arts renew , By which our Infant Empire grew ; By which her Fame spread vastly wide , And carry'd in Majestick pride From East to West serenely shone , As far and glorious as the Sun. Whilst Caesar lives and rules in Peace , No Civil VVars shall break our Ease , No Rage that fatal Swords prepares , And hurries wretched Towns to VVars : Not cruel Getes tho bath'd in blood , Not those by Tanais faithless stood , Not those that drink Danubius Stream Shall glorious Caesar's Laws contem : We on our Feast , and working days ' Midst jovial Cups will gladly praise ; Our Pious Wives , and pratling Boys Shall first the Gods with humble voice , And then with Pipes and sounding Verse The Heroes noble Acts reherse ; Anchises , Troy our Songs shall grace , And brave Aeneas Venus happy race . The End of the Fourth Book . EPODES . EPODE I. MY Lord , my best , and dearest Friend , The chiefest Bulwark of the State ; In tall Liburnian Ships defend Great Caesar's Cause , and prop his Fate . Before his danger thrust your own : But what shall He that breaths in You , That scorns to live when You are gone , What shall forsaken Horace do ? Shall I sit down and take my Ease ? But without You what joys delight ? Or steel my softness , stem the Seas , Or bolder grow , and dare to fight ? Or shall I arm my feeble breast , And wait on You thro Alpine Snow , Or farthest Regions of the West , Where Caesar bids the Valiant go ? You ask why thus I boldly press , And what should feeble I do there , My fear , My Lord , will be the less ; For absence still increases fear . Thus Birds on Wing are most affraid That Snakes will come when they 're away , Tho present they 're too weak to aid , And save the easy Callow prey . I would be stout , discard my fears , The greatest dangers bravely prove , And venture this or other Wars In hopes , my Lord , to keep your Love. But not to have more Oxen groan Beneath my Plows , nor feed more Swains ; Nor yet as Heat or Cold comes on , To drive my Sheep to other Plains : Not to enlarge my Country Seat , Or get vast heaps of shining Ore ; Your bounty , Sir , hath made me great , And furnish'd with sufficient store . I do not heaps of Gold desire , To hide , and have no heart to use , As Chremes did ; nor Wealth require On baser Lusts to be profuse . EPODE II. The Pleasures of a Country and retir'd Life . HAppy the Man beyond pretence , ( Such was the State of innocence ) That loose from Care , from business free , From griping Debts and Usury , Contented in an humble Fate VVith his own Oxen Ploughs his own Estate : No early Trumpet breaks his ease , He doth not dread the angry Seas : He flies the Bar , from noise retreats , And shuns the Nobles haughty Seats . But Marrigeable Vines he leads To lusty Oaks , and kindly VVeds : Or carelessly in Vallies strays And smiles to see his Oxen graze : He prunes his Vines , or grafts his Trees ; Or sheers his Sheep or takes his Bees ; From Combs well prest his Honey flows Almost as sweet as his repose : Or when the mellow Autumn rears His Fruitful Head he gathers Pears , Or Purple Grapes , and these reward VVith pleasing gifts his Holy Guard ; Thee , Sylvian , and , Priapus Thee A Tribute fills from every Tree : Now smiles beneath a Myrtle shade On flowry Banks supinely laid , VVhilst neer his Head there creeps a Spring , And the free Birds around him sing : Or Fountains with their murmuring Streams Invite to short , and easy Dreams : Or when cold Jove hath turn'd the Year , And Rain and Snow and Frost appear , He takes his Hounds , strong toyls he setts , And drives fierce Bores to secret Netts . Or springs Tiles in every Bush , To take the Black-bird and the Thrush : Or Fearful Hare , or stranger Crane All sweet rewards do cheer his pain . Who midst these pleasing joys does bear , The numerous ills of Love and Fear ? In Towns the Tyrant passions Reign , And spread their Cares , but fly the Plain , But if a Wife more chast than Fair , ( Such as the ancient Sabines were , Such as the Brown Apulian Dame , Of moderate Face , and honest Fame ) With equal Care , his Care shall meet , And keep the House and Children sweet ; Against He comes provide a Fire ; As pure and warm as her desire : And with an Honest chearful smile Receive him weary from his toyl : Pen up her self , and Milk the Kine , Then draw a Pot of Country Wine , And streight with what her Fields afford Doth furnish out an easy board : I would not change for all the State And costly trouble of the Great ; Their Oysters , Trouts , and all the store Of Luxury would take no more ; Their Fish that catering Storms , to please Their Palate , toss from Eastern Seas , The Pheasant , Patridge , Quail and Teal Would not go down , nor tast as well As Olives pluckt from laden Boughs , Or Sorrel that in Pasture grows ; Or Mallows sweet extreamly good For Bodies bound poor wholsom Food , Or Lambkins kil'd a sheering Beast : Or rescu'd from a greedy Beast : Amidst these dainties , Oh the vast delight To see fed Sheep come home at Night ! To hear the weary Oxen low And almost tir'd trail back the Plow ! To see my merry Clowns carouse , And swarm about my cleanly House ! This Alpius said , the fam'd , and known , The griping Userer of the Town , Resolv'd to leave his Cares and Strife And quickly lead a Country Life , One week He call'd his Money in , The next He lent it out agen : EPODE III. To MECAENAS . He shows his dislike to an Onion that made him sick . IF any , let 's suppose so damn'd a Rage Forget their Duty and their Age ; And eager to enjoy the whole Estate , With impious hands shall hasten Fate , And their old Fathers coming Death prevent , Let Onions be their Punishment . O Reapers Stomachs ! Ah! what Poyson Reigns , What secret fire runs o're my Veins ? Hath Viper's blood , or hath Canidia's breath Blown o're my Meat , and mingled Death ? When Jason did Medea's fancy move , And she fixt on him for a Love , Before the rest , she gave him this to tame The fiery Bulls , and quench their Flame ; By Presents dipt in this Creusa dy'd , And Jason mourn'd his promis'd Bride : Such furious heat as rages o're my Veins N'ere scorcht the dry Apulian Plains , Nor did the flaming Poysnous gift infest With half such Heat Alcides Breast : My merry Lord if e're you tast of this May every Maid deny a Kiss ; But stop her Mouth , cry foh ! refuse delight , And ne're lie near Thee all the Night . EPODE IV. To Vulteius Mena , a Freed-Man of Pompey . AS much as Lambs with Wolves agree , So much , base Sot , do I with thee ; With Spanish whips thy Sides are torn , Thy Legs with heavy shackles worn : Tho Fortune smiles and swells thy Mind , It gilds , but cannot change the Kind : Do'st see when Thou with ruffling Gown Do'st sweep the Mall , how many frown , How each that views Thee , screws his Face , And justly scorns the gawdy Ass ! He lately whipt at the Carts tail , The very scandal of the Jayl , Now vastly rich a mighty Spark In Coach and Six flys o're the Park : At Plays he takes the Box , in spight Of Otho's Law , a doughty Knight ! What Honor is 't to free the Waves From Pyrates rage , and tame the Slaves , What honor can attend the VVar Where He a Captain claims a share ? EPODE V. Against the Witch Canidia , where he discovers the Cruelty and Baseness of such Creatures . BUt O what ever God dost fill the Sky , And rule the Earth and Men below , What means that rout ? and why Each Fury bends on me an angry brow ? By all thy brood , if e're Lucina came , To real Births , and eas'd thy throws ; By Honor 's useless name , By Jove that sees , and will revenge my Woes . Why doth that Stepdame's frown affright ? That rage thy gastly form disgrace ? A hunted Tyger's spight , And grinning fury sit upon thy Face ? Thus sadly spake the naked lovely Child , Which e'en a Thracian's Soul might move , Make raging fury mild And in a flinty Bosom kindle love : Canidia , Serpents wreath'd her shaggy brow , Appear'd , and these Commands she gave ; A Funeral Cypress Bough , And a wild Fig-tree rooted from a Grave ; A Scritch-Owls Feather , Eggs besmear'd with blood Of croaking Frogs , a Tyger's paws , A swelling angry Toad , And Bones snatcht from a hungry Bitches jaws : Each powerful Herb that in Iberia springs To raise strong Love , or Anger tame , And all that Colchos brings , Go mix , and burn them in a Magick Flame . Whilst ready Sagana from beechen Cup Pour'd Stygian Water o're the Floors , Her hair an end stood up Like Hedg-hogs bristles , or a running Bores : But hardned Veja deaf to all remorse A little Grave had quickly made ; She rais'd her feeble force , And joy'd to sweat , and groan upon the Spade : Where fixt Chin-deep the power unhappy guest By looking on his meat must dye , Whilst they renew the Feast , And He stands famisht , feeding at his Eye : That His dry Marrow , and his raging Heart When his weak Senses fail may prove Fit for their Magick Art , And make Ingredients for a Cup of Love : All thought that lustful Floria too was one That came to view the horrid sight , She that can charm the Moon And force the Stars from their fixt seats of light : Here fierce Canidia whilst her unpar'd Nail She gnaw'd with an envenom'd Tooth , Oh what did she conceal ! What horrid words broak from her impious mouth ! Thou Night , thou Moon and all Ye meaner lights That charm dull Mortals into sleep , And when our sacred Rites Are done , an undisturbed silence keep ; Assist me now with all your strength and rage , That I might pay the debts I owe , Your greatest force engage To wreak my spight on my unhappy Foe ; Whilst cruel Beasts asleep in Woods are safe , Let the Saburran Mastiffs bark , ( 'T will make the Neighbours laugh ) At the old Leacher creeping in the dark : When fierce desire hath raging fury bred Then let him walk as Lusts perswade With Oyntment round his Head As strong as e " re my skilful hands have made : Ah! what 's the matter ! where 's the Power of Charms Which fierce Medea once did prove , When with these conquering Arms She furiously reveng'd her injur'd Love ! When with a Garment lin'd with secret flame ( What will not jealous rage inspire ? ) She burnt the lovely Dame , And wrapt false Jason's youthful Bride in fire ! Ah! sure no powerful Herb hath scap't my sight , In shady Groves or purling Streams ; And yet He sleeps all night , No wanton Miss disturbs him e'en in Dreams : Ah! Ah , some Witch more skilful sets Thee free , Unhappy Varus , doom'd to ill , Thou shalt return to Me ; I 'le force Thee back by an unusual skill : With unresisted Art I 'le bind thy Soul , No Charms shall then thy mind restore ; I 'le mix a stronger Bowl , And urge Thee still as Thou dost scorn the more : First Heaven shall downward , Earth shall upward move And to the Center Stars retire ; E'er thou shalt cease to Love , Or burn like Brimstone in a smoaky Fire : The injur'd Boy inrag'd no longer strove To soften them by mournful Prayer And gentle pitty move , But spoak these dying words in deep despair : Poor Charms too weak to alter Humane Fate , And hinder Plagues from rage Divine ; No Blood shall expiate So solemn , and so great a Curse as mine . When I am dead then I 'le a Ghost by Night With crooked Nails your jaws invade , At every turn affright ; For that 's the force and fury of a Shade . Then will I sit upon your fearful Breast , And there my dreadful watches keep ; Disturb approaching rest , And drive away the lazy hand of Sleep . Thro every Street the Crowd in eager hast Shall brain the ugly Hags with Stones , And when Death comes at last , The Crows shall scatter , Wolves shall break your Bones : And this my Parents ( ah they must survive , And seek in vain , and mourn for Me ) Tho many years they grieve , Grown gray in Tears , shall live and smile to see . EPODE VI. Against Cassius Severus a very scurrilous and abusive Rhymer . BAse coward Curr when harmless strangers come , You snarl and bark about the Room ; But when a fierce and shagged Wolf appears , How soon you whine , and hang your Ears ! Come , make at me , if you resolve to fight , For I have Teeth , and dare to bite : The generous Mastiff I of Noble sense The careful Shepherd's kind defense ; With Ears an-end thro Snow and Frost pursue What ever Beast I have in view : When Thou the Woods with frightful sounds has shook Thou leap'st for every little Brook : Take heed , take heed , to Rogues a deadly Foe I 'me still prepar'd to strike the blow ; As sharp as fierce Archilochus his Song Like Hipponax revenge a wrong ; If any malice wounds my Fame , shall I Like a poor Child sit down and cry ? EPODE VII . To His Citizens that are ready to engage in another Civil War. WHere , Mad men , where ? where , so averse to Peace Your rusty Swords that slept in ease Why drawn ? What hath not every Country flow'd And every Sea with Roman Blood ? Not to pursue your angry Fathers hate , And urge proud Carthage rival Fate , Nor make the untoucht Britans Slaves to Rome And lead them chain'd in Triumph home ; But what the Parthians often pray to view These Arms are now prepar'd to do : Against your self , ah me ! you raise them all , And Rome by her own hand must fall : E'en Wolves are to more gentle thoughts inclin'd And prey but on another kind : What is it Madness , is it stupid Rage That doth the brutal Arms engage ? Or is it Sin ? speak , not one word will come ; 'T is cruel Fate that urges Rome : Since Remus fell about thy rising Walls His loud-tongued blood for Vengeance calls ; The Issue then began , and still hath flow'd , For Blood must be reveng'd with Blood EPODE IX . To MECAENAS . He wishes for the good News of Caesar 's Victory over Mark Antony , that they might be merry as formerly , when Sextus Pompejus was overthrown . VVHen will the happy morning come , And bring the welcom News to Rome , That I , my Lord , with you may Dine , And in your stately House Full Bowls carouse , Preserv'd for this expected Joy , of racy Wine ! Where Pipes shall joyn the speaking string , And tuneful Voices gladly sing , As you , my Lord , and I have done ; When Pompy turn'd his Head And basely fled Confessing Caesar's Fortune greater than his own : His flaming Ships blaz'd o're the Wave ; Whilst flying by the light they gave , He left those Chains which faithless He Had loos'd from servile Hands , And threatned Bands To happy Rome , by Caesar's Will , and Nature free : A Roman ( who will credit give VVhat future Age this truth receive ? ) Turn'd Woman's Slave with servile Hands A Common Souldier bears The drudgery of Wars , And can endure her wither'd Eunuchs base Commands : Amidst the Arms , dishonest sight ! The Sun that view'd withdrew the Light , As once at curst Thyestes Feast ; As 't were asham'd to see The Canopy And the great Roman lolling on a Woman's Breast . Io Triumphe , break delay , Why doth the golden Chariot stay ? And not the promis'd Oxen fall ? Io Triumphe bring The greatest King , The Common good , the comfort , and the joy of All : Jugurtha's Wars , and Noble Toyls Ne're show'd his Equal grac'd with Spoyls ; Nor Conquer'd Africk sent to Rome , Altho his lasting Name Is great in Fame , And ruin'd Carthage lies to make his noble Tomb : Where will the conquer'd Roman fly From Caesar's Hand , and Caesar's Eye ? What will the Conquer'd Roman do ? What Winds , what servile Gales Will swell his Sails , That on his Master Caesar's may so freely blow ? More Bowls and larger Bowls my Boy , As large as my extensive joy , Let Mirth advance my good design ; 'T is sweet to ease my Cares For Caesar's Wars , And drown all Melancholly thoughts in noble Wine . EPODE X. He wishes Maevius the Poet may be Shipwrackt . THat cursed Ship that stinking Maevius bore With an ill Omen left the Shore ; South-wind , besure , you raise the swelling Tides And stoutly beat her feeble sides , You East-wind turn the Sea and break the Oars , And whirl her Sails to distant shores , The North-wind rage as when he tears the Woods On lofty Hills , and toss the Floods : No Friendly Star shine thro the Cloudy Night But sad Orion's watry light : Hah ! let him now no smoother Waves enjoy Than those that tost the Greeks from Troy , When Pallas hatred from the flaming Town On wicked Ajax Ship was thrown . Hah ! Hah ! what sweat shall from thy Seamen flow , And what Death-pale spread o're thy Brow ! What Woman's crys , and what unmanly Tears What vows to Jove's relentless Ears ! VVhen South-winds rattling o're th' Ionian Tide Shall beat thy Ship , and break her side Then if I see thee spread a dainty dish To hungry Fowl , and greedy Fish , A Goat and Lamb shall then my Vows perform , And both shall die to think the Storm . EPODE XI . To PETTIUS . Love hinders him from Writing any more . AH I have lost my old delight , Now Muse can now my fancy move , My Rhymes displease , I hate to write , Now I am very deep in Love : Love that doth still my Heart surprize , And single me from constant game , From Boys and Maidens charming Eyes He thro my Marrow scatters Flame . Three Stormy VVinters now have shook The leavy Honor from the Tree , Since I disdain'd Inachia's Yoke , And dar'd to set my passion free . Oh what a Town-talk then was I , How Fopps did wanton , with my Fame , And ( when I think on 't how I die ) All ridicul'd my foolish Flame ! Oh how it grates to mind the Feasts Where thoughtful silence seem'd to prove , And a deep sigh would tell the Guests That Poet Horace was in Love ! When Wine unlockt my easy Soul How often I with sighs have told The Poor Man's Wit could not controul The giving Rival's mighty Gold ! Yet , Faith , if vext my rage will rise , And when these hated Chains are broak , I 'le leave these dull complaints , be wise , And scorn to take another Yoke . Yet after this was stoutly said , And constant I resolv'd to hate ; My heedless Feet my mind betray'd , And brought Me to the usual Gate : That cruel Gate , and us'd to scorn , VVhere I have layn , and layn deny'd ; VVhere I whole tedious Nights have born And craz'd my Health , and bruis'd my Side . Lycestris now of greater Charms Than all that grace proud VVomankind , Doth gently force me to his Arms ; VVith pleasing Bands he draws my Mind : And now let my free Friends advise , Or let them blame ; 't is all in vain , Too feeble they to break the tyes VVhen Love and Beauty make the Chain . Of freedom I must still despair , Unless some Maid or lovely Boy With killing looks , and Charming hair , Shall draw me to another joy . EPODE XIII . He adviseth his Friends to pass their time merrily . DArk Clouds have thickned all the Sky , And Jove descends in Rain ; With frightful noise rough Storms do fly Thro Seas and Woods , and humble Plain . My noble Friends the Day perswades , Come , come , let 's use the Day ; Whilst we are strong , e're Age invades , Let Mirth our coming years delay : Put briskly round the noble Wine , And leave the rest to Fate , Jove , chance , will make the Evening shine , And bring it to a clearer State : Now , now your fragrant Odors spread , Your merry Harps prepare ; 'T is time to cleanse my aking Head , And purge my drooping thoughts from Care. Thus Chiron sang in lofty strain And taught Achilles Youth ; Great Thetis Son , the pride of Man , Observe , I tell Thee fatal truth : Thee , Thee for Troy the Gods design Where Simois streams do play , Scamander's thro the Vallies twine And softly eat their easy way : And there thy thread of Life must end Drawn o're the Trojan Plain , In vain her Waves shall Thetis send To bear Thee back to Greece again : Therefore , Great Son , my Precepts hear ; Let Mirth , and Wine , and Sport , And merry Talk divert thy Care , And make Life pleasant since 't is short . EPODE XIV . To MECAENAS . Love hinders him from making the Iambicks which He had so often promis'd . YOu ask , My Lord , why lazy sloth hath spread A dark oblivion o're my Head ; As I had drank forgetful Lethe's Stream ; And this is your continual Theme ; This the Complaint I am Condemn'd to hear , Like Death it pierces thro my Ear : A God forbids me , ( ah ! a cruel God Regardless , Sir , of what I vow'd ) ( To other things my easy Mind he drew ) To finish what I promis'd you : Thus soft Anachrean for Bathyllus burn'd , And oft his Love he sadly mourn'd : He to his Harp did various grief reherse , And wept in an unpolisht Verse : E'en , Sir , you Love , but if no brighter Flame Burnt Troy , caress thy lovely Dame : By Phyrne , ah ! thy Horace is undone , False , fair , and not content with one . EPODE XV. To NEAERA . He complains of breach of Promise . 'T Was Mid-night , and the rising Moon Amongst the lesser Stars serenely shone , When you the false , the Perjur'd you Devoutly Swore you would be always true : Scarce half so close doth Ivy twine Round Oakes , as you did then your Arms in mine : As long as Wolves pursue the Sheep , As long as Winter Storms shall toss the deep : As long as wanton Gales shall move Apollo's Locks , so long shall be my Love. Perjur'd Neaera false as Hell , Yet fair as Heaven , and ah belov'd too well , How shalt thou mourn at my disdain ! For sure if Horace be but half a Man , He 'l scorn to bear repeated slights , Nor tamely see his Rival's happy Nights ; But with an equal Flame pursue A Face as fair , tho not so false as you : And know when I begin to hate , I 'le ne're be kind , I am as fixt as Fate : And Thou , the Blest , who'ere thou art The fancy'd happy Master of her Heart ; That dost thy Conquests proudly boast , And Triumph'st in the spoils that I have lost , Tho Thou art rich as Misers Dreams , And tho Pactolus brought Thee all his Streams , Tho Fam'd Pythagoras Arts be thine , Thy Face more fair than Nireus , half Divine ; Yet thou shalt mourn to find that she Doth prove as false as once to Me , And then 't will be my turn to laugh at Thee . EPODE XVI . To the People of Rome . He adviseth them to leave the Town , which He thinks doom'd to Civil Wars . NOw Civil VVars do wast another Age , And Rome must fall by her own rage ; What neighbouring Marsi with an envious Hand , What threatning Porsen's Thuscan Band , Fierce Spartaeus , and Capua's rival Fate , The force of all the German State ; What in unsetled times the faithless Gaul , The Mother-hated Hannibal , Could not destroy , We , VVe , an impious Brood Devoted still , and doom'd to Blood , Shall ruin now by force of Civil VVars , And leave our Towns to VVolves and Bears : Ah me ! the barbarous Horse with sounding Feet Shall tread our Graves , and beat our Street , And madly , scatter , Oh too proud ! unjust ! Rome's glorious Founder's quiet dust ! Perhaps the most , or better part would know VVhat way to shun the falling blow , I like that way the Phoceans once have gone ; They all forsook their cursed Town , And did their Lands , their Fields and Shrines restore To ravenous VVolf and angry Bore : Let 's go , let 's go , and seek a place to live Where Chance directs , or Wind shall drive : Agreed ? or do's some better Course appear ? Come let 's imbark the Omen's fair : But first let 's swear wee 'l then return again When Rocks shall float upon the Main , When lowly Po shall pour his Crystal Urn O're Alpine Tops then VVe 'l return ; When Appennine runs out , and cuts the Floods , When nimble Dolphins graze in VVoods , VVhen wondrous Lust strange kinds shall strangely joyn , Fierce Tygers leap the willing Kine , The fearless Does shall court the Lyon's Love And cruel Hawks gallant the Dove : VVhen Goats grown smooth shall leave the flowry Plain , And dive and wanton in the Main : To this , and such as cut off sweet return VVhen we have all devoutly sworn , Let 's go Curst Town , but let the soft and base , Still stick to their unhappy place : You Men of worth unmanly grief give o're And nimbly pass the Thuscan Shore , The Ocean waits , and in smooth calmness smiles , Let 's go and seek the happy Isles , VVhere Fields untill'd a Yearly Harvest bear And Vines undress'd bloom all the Year : VVhere Olives ne're the Farmers hopes do mock , And ripe figs grace their proper Stock : There Hony flows from Oaks , from lofty Hills , VVith murmuring pace the Fountain trills , There Goats uncall'd return from fruithful Vales And bring stretcht Duggs to fill the Pails : No Bear grinns round the Fold , No Lambs He shakes ; No Field swells there with poysnous Snakes : More we shall wonder on the happy Plain ; The VVatry East descends in Rain , Yet so as to refresh , not drown the Fields , The temperate Glebe full Harvest yields ; No heat annoys , the Ruler of the Gods From Plagues secures these blest Abodes : Here Jason never fixt swift Argos Oars , Nor base Medea toucht these Shores ; Ne're Cadmus came when forc't by angry Fates , Nor stout Ulysses weary Mates : No rot here Reigns , no Star here taints the Meads , And poysnous Heat unkindly sheds ; VVhen Jove allay'd the golden Age with Brass , For Pious men He kept this place : Now Iron hardens the old Brazen Age , And Fraud grows up , and Wars , and Rage , And every Ill , I press a quick retreat , And show the good , the happy seat . EPODE XVII . To CANIDIA . He confesseth Her Magick Power , and begs pardon for abusing Her. NOw , now thy Power I Conquer'd own , And humbly beg by Pluto's Throne , By Powers below , by Proserpine , by fierce Diana's angry shrine , By all those Charms that can remove ; And call down Stars from Seats above , Recall thy stroak , thy Charms forbear , Spare me at last , Canidia , spare : Achilles Teleph nobly spar'd , Tho with his Mysian Bands He VVarr'd : Tho boldly He oppos'd His Fate , And buoy'd the sinking Trojan State : Stout Hector doom'd to Beasts a Prey The Trojan Matrons bore away VVhen Priam midst the Grecian Fleet Had fall'n at proud Achilles Feet : By Circe's leave Ulysses Men Receiv'd their former shapes agen ; Their Limbs , their Minds , and Voice restor'd , They spoke , not grunted to their Lord : Enough , enough hath vext my Soul , O Tar's and Tinker's lovely Trull ! My Youth , my rosy Cheeks are gone , And left pale Skin stretcht o're the Bone : My Head grows white , it feels thy Bane , No Ease doth lay me down from Pain , Dayes urge the Nights , and Nights the Dayes , Yet my swoln Heart can find no Ease : Now I 'me convinc't , 't is now confest Thy force hath reacht my troubled Breast : Now I 'me convinc't by wondrous Harms My Head is split with Magick Charms : My slow Belief I sadly Mourn ; VVhat more ? O Earth , O Floods , I burn ! Not half the Heat Alcides bore VVhen fir'd by Nessus Poysnous Gore : Not half the Heat in Aetna Reigns , That scorches o're my boyling Veins : Yet still you heat till I 'me calcin'd To Dust , and scatter'd by the Wind : What end of Pain ? What hope for ease : Speak , Speak , I 'le suffer what you please , I 'me eager to avoid my Fate And satisfie at any rate ; A Hundred Bulls shall pay their blood , Or Lying Verse proclaim Thee good ; Chast , Modest , Just , thou shalt appear , And walk midst Stars a glorious Star : Great Castor vext at Helen's wrong With blindness pay'd the railing Song ; Yet Prayers prevail'd , He heard his Cries , And soon restor'd the Poets Eyes : And now forget my curst Offence , Restore ( thou canst ) my perish'd sence , O nobly Born and nobly Bred , Thou ne're hadst skill to raise the Dead , Unbind the Poor Mans quiet Urn Or make his shivering Soul return ; Nor scatter Ashes o're a Tomb ; As chast as fruitful is thy Womb , And e're thy Child-bed Cloaths are clean , Strange Breeder Thou art well agen . CANIDIA 's Answer . I 'Me deaf , I 'me deaf , thou beg'st in vain ; Rocks beaten by the raging Main , Not half so deaf will sooner hear The naked sinking Mariner : Could'st Thou Cotytto's Rites reprove , Disclose my Mysteries of Love , Could Censuring you my Tricks proclaim , And fill the Country with my Fame ? At all my Arts prophanely laugh , Yet clare to fancy to be safe ? In vain thou shalt , in vain inrich With precious Gifts the famous Witch ; In vain strong Drugs and Charms require ; Fate shall be slow to thy desire : Wretch , hated Life shall still remain That thou might'st bear new racks of Pain : False Tantalus doth beg for rest Deluded by the hanging Feast . Condemn'd the griping Vultur's Prey Prometheus begs a dying Day : Poor Sisyphus would fix his Stone But Jove forbids it to be done . Now thou from Towers shalt madly fall , Now run thy Head against a Wall ; And tir'd at last with squeamish pain Shalt tye the noose , but tye in vain : Then on thy neck I 'le bravely ride , And make Thee bend beneath my Pride : Shall I that can when e're I please Wast men by waxen Images ? Shall I that can , as thou hast known , ( Curst prying Thou ! ) eclipse the Moon , Drawn down the Stars from Seats above And mix a furious Cup of Love , Shall powerful I now grieve to see My force too weak to baffle Thee ? The End of the Epodes . M Burghers sculp . SATYRS . BOOK I. The Heads of the first Satyr . ( 1. ) Against the general Discontent of Mankind , none being content with his own Condition , still thinking his Neighbour happier , and yet would refuse to change with him . ( 2. ) Against Covetousness . ( 3. ) That the Covetous is the most discontented . 1. WHence comes , my Lord , this general discontent ? Why All dislike the State that Chance hath sent , Or their own Choice procur'd ? why All repent ? The weary Souldier now grown old in Wars , With bleeding Eyes looks o're his Wounds and Scars ; Curse that E're I the trade of War began , Ah me ! the Merchant is a happy Man : The Merchant , when the Waves and Winds are high , Crys , happy happy Men at Arms ; for why , You fight , and streight comes Death , or joyful Victory . The Lawyer that 's disturb'd before 't is light By restless Clients , or that wakes all night , Grows sick ; and when He finds his rest is gone , Crys , happy Farmers that can sleep till Noon : The weary Client thinks the Lawyer blest , And craves a City Life , for that 's the best . So many Instances in every state , That mourn their own , but praise their Neighbours fate , 'T would tire even bawling Fabius to relate . But to be short , see I 'le adjust the Thing : Suppose some God should say I 'le please you now , You Lawyer leave the Bar and take the Plough ; You Souldier too shall be a Merchant made , Go , Go , and follow each his proper trade : How ? what refuse ? and discontented still ? And yet They may be happy if They will. Now would not this vex Jove , and make him rage ? Hath he not reason now to scourge the Age ? And puff and swear He 'd never hear again ? No , They should vow , and pray , but pray in vain : Yet not to laugh , and let my Muse be loose , As 't were my whole design to be jocose , Altho I may be grave when not morose : And mirth commends , and makes our Precepts take , Thus Teachers bribe their Boys with Figs and Cake To mind their books ; these Things deserve to have A serious handling : Come now let 's be grave : 2. The Souldier fights , the busy Tradesman cheats , And finds a thousand tricks and choice deceits ; The heavy Plough contents the labouring Hind , The Merchant strives with every Tide and Wind ; And all this Toyl to get vast heaps of Gold , That They might live at Ease when they are old : When they have gotten store for numerous years , They may be free from Want , and from its fears : As the Small Ant ( for she instructs the Man , And preaches Labor ) gathers all she can , " And brings it to increase her heap at home " Against the Winter which she knows will come : For when that comes she creeps abroad no more , But lyes at home , and feasts upon her store . But neither Heat , nor Cold , nor Wars restrain , Nor Dangers fright Thee from purfuit of gain ; Only that Thou may'st be the richest Man : What pleasure is 't with busy toyl and care To gather heaps of Gold to hide with fear , Tho under ground scarce safe we think it there ? Why , should I spend one Cross 't would still wast on , 'T would all run out , and I should be undone ; Why prethee what is 't good for till 't is gone ? In thy vast Barns great stores of Corn do ly , Yet thou canst eat perhaps no more than I : The Slaves that bear the weighty Flasks of bread , With small and barly Loafs are hardly fed . They sweat 't is true , and with the burthen groan , But eat no more than He that carrys none : Besides , what difference prethee is't to Me That feed no more than Nature's Luxury , To plough three thousand Acres or but Three ? Oh but 't is sweet to take from Barns well stor'd ; What , if You take no more than mine afford ? Mine but half full ? why dost Thou praise thine My small one is as good as thy great store . ( more ? If you would fill a Cup come tell me why , Why not from this small Spring that runs hard by , As well as from that yonder rowling Flood , Since this will give enough , and quite as good ? For Hence whilst eager on their useless prey The rapid stream whirls them and Banks away : He that seeks but enough , is free from fear , His Life is safe , and all his water clear : But most are lost in a Confounded Cheat , ( great They would have more , for when their Wealth is They think their Worth as much as their Estate : Well then , what must we do to such a one ? Why , let him , 't is his Will to be undone : Since He , as the Athenian Chuff , will cry The People hiss me , True , but what care I ? Let the poor fools hiss me where e're I come , I bless my self to see my bags at home : Poor wretched Tantalus , as Storys tell , ( And that 's the worst , the Cursed'st Plague in Hell ) Stands up chin deep in an o're flowing Bowl , But cannot drink one drop to save his Soul : ( free ? What dost Thou laugh ? and think that Thou art Fool change the Name , the Story 's told of Thee : Thou watchest o're thy heaps , yet ' midst thy store Thou' rt almost starv'd for Want , and still art poor : You fear to touch as if You rob'd a Saint , And use no more than if 't were Gold in paint : You only know how Wealth may be abus'd , Not what 't is good for , how it can be us'd ; 'T will buy Thee Bread , 't will buy Thee Herbs , and What ever Nature's Luxury can want : ( grant But now to watch all day , and wake all night , Fear Thieves and Fire , and be in constant fright , If These are Goods , if these are a delight : I am content , Heavens grant me sleep and ease , If These are Goods , I would be poor of These : Ay , but suppose I should be sick ; what then ? Why then the richest are the happyest men : Then are the great advantages of Wealth , 'T will make the Doctor ride , and bring me health : 'T will get a Friend that may condole My pain , And tell me that I shall do well again : 'T will get a Nurse , a Purge , and save my Life , And keep me well for my dear Friends and Wife : Prethee fond fool for this ne're vex thy Head , For she and all that know Thee wish Thee dead : And reason good , since you your Gold prefer To all your Friends , your Children , and to Her : How then canst Thou expect that They should prove So kind to Thee , when Thou deserv'st no Love ? Why , to be Covetous yet keep thy Friends , That Chance or that indulgent Nature sends ; It is a foolish hope , absurd and vain , As his , to teach an Ass to take the rein And freely run a race upon the Plain . Well , fix a bound at last to thy Estate ; And then leave off when Thou hast gotten that ; And let not , as Thou dost encrease thy store , Thy fears rise too that Thou shalt once be poor . Act not Uvidius , ( come , the Story 's short , The tale is tragick , yet 't is pretty sport ) A Rogue as rich as if He had a Mine , He did not tell , but measure heaps of Coin : And yet so close , he went as meanly clad As any thread-bare Servant that he had ; His Shoes still clouted , and He always cry'd , That He shou'd starve for want before he dy'd : Him his Whore snapt , and with a lusty blow ( Well struck I'faith ) she cleft the slave in Two : What then must I spend all ? No , that 's as bad : There 's something betwixt staring and stark mad : Why still to the Extreams You madly run , For when I chide Thee for a greedy Clown , I do not bid Thee spend , and be undone : No , there are bounds when Nature did begin Then fixt , and all is Good that lyes within , And all without on either side is Sin. 3. But to return to that where I began , Is none so pleas'd as the rich greedy Man ? Is none like him contented with his state , But rather praise and crave another's sate ? When others Cows do give more milk than his Is He not vext ? doth He not pine at this ? Doth He compare himself , and doth he see That almost all are poorer far than He ? Doth He not strive to raise his vast Estate ? Be richer now than this Man , now than that ? Yet richer still appear as He goes on , And those He must Excel , or Nothing 's done . Just as our Racers when They run the Course , Still keep their Eye upon the foremost Horse , And strive to out-strip him ; but never mind The lazy distanc't Jade that lags behind : Hence 't is searce any thinks his state is blest , Nor when Death calls like a contented Guest Will rise from Life , and lay him down to rest : But stay , enough , and lest mine seems as long As Crispin's tedious Books , I 'le hold my Tongue . SATYR II. The Heads of the second Satyr . 1. Men keep no mean , as He confirms by Examples . 2. He lashes the Adulterers . 1. THe Players , Pimps , and Hectors of the Town , The Rooks , the Gamesters , all lament and moan For their Tigellius that is dead and gone : For He was a free Soul , a Prodigal , He had a fair Estate , and spent it all : Others t' avoid that Name refuse to spend One single Cross upon a needy Friend ; Their heaps are Sacred , and they spare their Gold , Altho he dyes for Want , and starves with Cold : Now if you take the first to task , and say , Why dost Thou squander thy Estate away ? Why wast thy Ancient Lands on Paltry guests , And borrow Money to maintain thy Feasts ? He answers streight , I hate to be confin'd , I have no sordid , nor a narrow Mind ; No , I a free and generous humor love ; And this some discommend , and some approve . Fusidius rich in Money out at Use , And Lands , yet fears to be esteem'd profuse ; For five times double He would Sums ingage , And sues Young Heirs when newly come of Age : The greatest Prodigals He presses most , And lends them Money till their Lands are lost . Who when He hears all this would not complain , Good God! yet thus He damns himself for gain : " And one would scarce believe a Man for Pelf " Should be so great an Enemy to himself : That He in Terence when His Son was gone , Tho He laments , and crys He is undone , The most unhappy Man the Sun can see , Yet liv'd not half so bad a Life as He : And all this proves whil'st Fools one Vice condemn They run into the Opposite Extream : Malthin with Gowns below his heels is grac't , Another Humorist tucks them to his wast : Rufillus smells like any Civet Cat , Gorgonius like a Goat , or worse than that : Men keep no Mean ; One , when his Blood boils o're , Will take a Matron only for his Whore , Whil'st others all but common Jades refuse , They fly the sober Whores , and rake the Stews : A certain famous Bully of the Town When He did leave the Stews , was often known To use old Cato's words , Go bravely on : Here our hot Youths should come to cool their flame , And never use the marry'd City Dame : But Cupien says , I 'le not be prais'd for this , That Cupien that admires a Matron Miss . 2. Now you that wish these base Adulterers ill , And Punishment as bad as is their Will ; Must needs be pleas'd to hear my Muse explain What small delight they with great danger gain , And how their Pleasure 's sadly mixt with Pain : For one found faulty with another's Wife Must from a Window leap to save his life : Another's finely kickt and jilted too , Or taken , bribes the Slaves to let him go : Another's kic kt into the Common Shore , There stifled , and a thousand Mischiefs more , Another's Guelt , his Dancing days are gone , And All but Galba say 't was justly done . But come let 's see now how the Matter falls , Is 't safer trading with the Abigals , Whom Salust so admires , and so adores , As much as those that use the marry'd Whores ? Now did not this Man make his gifts too great , But fit , and equal to his small Estate : He might be counted kind , preserve his Name , Not ruine his Estate , nor lose his Fame : But what cares He for this ? He boasts alone He knows no Matron , and He tempts not one : Or as Marsaeus whom a jilting Whore An Actress hath undone , and made him Poor : Methinks , says He , I lead a civil Life , I never meddle with another's Wife : Ay , but with Whores and Players ; and by that Thy Fame is ruin'd more than thy Estate : Is it enough to say , when faults are done , I did it not with such or such a one ; And not take Care to shun the Action still , The Action that 's intrinsecally ill , And scandalous in its self ? to wast thy Time , Thy Fame , or thy Estate is such a Crime , 'T is bad on whomsoe're you lose it all , Or Matron , Common-Whore , or Abigal : Young Villius He to Sylla's Daughter kind , Almost a Son in Law , so oft He sin'd Poor wretch , thus cheated , smarted o're and o're ; Being soundly beaten , stab'd , kickt out of Door , Whil'st poor Longarenus clasp't the jilting Whore : Suppose his Whore-Pipe now being vext at this , Should ask him , did I want a Noble Miss , A Whore of Quality to cool my Flame ? No , I had been content with meaner Game : What answer could be given ? what be said ? Only , forsooth , She was a Noble Maid : But how much better Nature's Laws provide , How great the gifts bestow'd , how small deny'd ? If you distinguish well , if well design , No things forbidden with the granted joyn : Is it all one ? can you no difference see Whether the Fault be in the Things , or Thee ? Then tempt no Matrons , for suppose you gain , The Sweet is little , but immense the Pain : 'T is true her costly Jewels court our Eye , But yet She 's not more soft , more plump her thigh , No , tho such Gems as soft Cerinthus wore , She does no better than a trading Whore : Besides , her Trade is fair , I like it well , She freely shows what e're She has to sell : And you may turn her , and view every part , And see that all is Nature , and not Art : She does not show her best to tempt the Eye , And strive to cover a Deformity , All 's seen , and if you like it , you may buy : Our Jockys , when a Horse is set to sale , Take off the Covering-Cloaths , and look on all ; Lest by a well-shap't Neck and cleanly made The greedy Chapman be at last betray'd , And buys a spavin'd or a founder'd Jade : This care is good , thus when you choose a Lass , Be not too Eagle-ey'd to view a grace ; And blind as Hypsea is to spy a fault , For such as judge by halves are often caught : How neat her Arm and Leg ! 't is true , but stay , Her Wast is short , Nose long , her Feet are splay . Besides , a Matron's Face is seen alone But Kate's that Female Bully of the Town , For all the rest is cover'd with the Gown : But if you 'ld tast , for that doth raise thy heat , A Dainty but forbidden Dish of Meat : There are a thousand stops , a thousand spyes , A Chamber-maid , a Foot-boys curious Eyes , These must be fee'd , and each will claim his share , Besides a Gown doth hide the precious Ware : But now a trading Girl is freely show'd , You see her Naked , or almost as good ; Her Coats are thin , and you may fairly try If strait her Wast , Feet Good , if plump her Thigh , There 's free admission to the Chapman's Eye : Wou'd you be cheated ? the Occasion 's fair , Since you would buy before you see the Ware. As Hunters trace their Hares thro frost & snow , Like not the Flesh as well as others do , As if they caught it only to bestow : Just so my Love , it scorns an easie prey , But hotly follows that that flyes away : What can'st Thou think that this mean Verse can tame Thy wild Desires , that this can quench thy Flame ? And doth not Nature steddy Rules ordain , Fixt Laws which should thy wildest wish contain , And which divide the solid Goods from vain ? Doth She not tell , what she would have supply'd , And what She cannot bear to be deny'd ? When Thirst doth burn thy Throat , and call for ease , Will nothing but a golden Goblet please ? And when thy Hunger bites , and fain would eat , Is all refus'd but rare , and dainty meat ? Or when thy Lust calls for a speedy Joy , And Thou hast ready a mean Girl or Boy , What wilt thou rather burn than those employ ? I 'm of another Mind , I 'm not so nice , I love a Miss that comes at easie Price : And says , Yes , when my Husband 's out of Doors , Or , Sir , One Guiney more , and I am yours : Says Philodem let patient Eunuchs Court Such formal Ladies , I 'm for quicker Sport : I love a Miss that flies into my Arms , And sets at easie rate her tempting Charms , Let her be strait and fair , of comely grace , And let her bring no more than Nature's face : Whil'st we embrace , whil'st She my Arms doth fill , She 's my Egeria , or what e're I will : Then I 'le fear nothing , for no harm can come , No jealous Husband is returning home , No Doors broke open , or the Servants rais'd , Whil'st She poor Wretch starts from my Arms amaz'd , And with a guilty shriek crys I 'm undone , Oh now I 'm caught , and all my Joynture's gone ; ( For that 's the Punishment of marry'd Whores ) Whil'st I poor guilty Rogue sneak out of Dores , Unbutton'd , and barefoot , to shun the Shame , And save my Purse , my Flesh , or else my Fame : Then leave the marry'd Women , be advis'd , 'T is sad , ask Fabius else , to be surpris'd . SATYR III. The Heads of the Third Satyr . ( 1. ) He lashes Tigellius a Songster , an Enemy of his , and a most unsettled Fellow . ( 2. ) Those that quickly spy others faults , but cannot see their own . ( 3. ) Faults of Friends should he extenuated . ( 4. ) Against the Stoicks Opinion that all Faults are equal . 1. AMongst their Friends our Songsters all agree Of this one fault , not one of them is free ; Ask them to Sing you cannot have a Note , No , they have gotten Cold , or a soare Throat : But unrequested then They strain their Voice , And trouble all the Company with their Noise : This humour hath Tigellius often shown ; If by his Father's Friendship and his own Caesar , that could Command , did beg a Song ; 'T was all in vain , He might have held his Tongue : Yet take him in the vein , and He would sing From Morn till Night , a Health to Charles our King : Sometimes to squeaking Treble his voice would raise , Then sink again into the deepest Base : A most unsettled fellow , He would run As if He fled a Robber , or a Dun ; And streight as in Procession gravely go , Now with two hundred Servants , now but Two : Sometimes He 'd talk of Heroes , and of Kings , In mighty swelling Numbers mighty Things : And then again , let gracious Fortune give A little Meat and Drink enough to live : Let her a Coat to keep out Cold present , Altho 't is thick and course , yet I 'm content : Yet give this sparing thing , this moderate , This Man of mean desires a vast Estate , In Nine days time 't is every Penny gone , And He 's grown Poor again , and is undone : He wakes all Night to Sing , to Drink , and Play , Then goes to Bed , and snores it all the Day : No Mans designs like his do disagree , None lives so contrary to himself as He. 2. Ay , but says One , have you no fault like this ? Yes , Sir , I have , Perhaps as great as his : When Menius rail'd at Novius , how , says One , Do'st know thy self , or think thy faults unknown ? Ay , but says Menius , I forgive my Own : This is a foolish , and a wicked Love , And such as sharpest Satyrs should reprove , When thou art Blind and Senseless to thine own , How do'st thou see thy Friend's Disease so soon : That scarce a Serpent can so quickly spy , Nor any Eagle hath so good an Eye . Well then go on , pursue thy mean design , As Thou do'st find their faults , so They will thine ; Perhaps He 's pettish , and He 's apt to rage , He cannot bear the Railery of the Age , Perhaps he doth not wear his Cloaths gentile , His Shoe is not well made , nor sits it well : He may be flouted , and be jeer'd for this ; Yet He 's an honest Man as any is : He is thy Friend , and tho the Case be foul , It holds a Learned , and a Noble Soul. Lastly , look o're thy self with strictest Care , And see what seeds of Vice are rooted there , What Nature plants , and what ill Customs bear . This search is good , for a neglected Field , Or Thorns , or useless Fern will quickly yield . 3. Well , let us bring our selves at last to this , As ardent Lovers when they Court a Miss ; Or spy no faults , or love those faults they spy , Thus Agne's Polypus pleas'd Balbine's Eye ; I wish this Error in our Friendship reign'd , Or had the credit of a Vertue gain'd , As Fathers hide Sons faults or else commend , We should excuse the failures of our Friend : A Father that hath got a Squint-ey'd Boy Crys what a pretty Cast adorns my joy ! And calls his dwarfish Son that 's often sick , As that Abortive Sisyphus , his Chick : Is one too Close ? be tender of his fame , And call him thrifty , 't is the softer Name : If He will brag too much , if He is vain , Then say he is a brisk , and merry Man : If He will rage , if he will rudely flout , Then say He is a downright Friend , and stout : If He will huff , his Airy Soul commend , And this I think will get , and keep a Friend : But We unkindly and perversely nice , Do turn their very Vertues into Vice : If any lives a sober honest life , Puts up Affronts , and shuns disturbing Strise , A mean , we streight exclaim , and Chicken Soul : And one that 's slow , We call a thick-scull'd Fool : Another in these evidencing Times When Envy loads our Honest Men with Crimes , Lives unsuspected , and with prudent Art He keeps himself secure on every part . Instead of Wise , of Provident , and Grave , Oh He 's a Cunning and a Crafty Knave : If any man ( as I have often done To you Mecaenas , and now freely own ) Impertinent Discourse or Questions brings , Or jogs Another whil'st He reads or sings , Or sits a musing upon other things : We streight grow Mad , we 'l hear no just defence ; Pox , He 's a Dolt , He wants even Common Sense ; What Customs , ah ! what Rules have Men design'd ? And how unjust , and to themselves unkind ! There 's none but hath some fault , and he 's the best , Most Vertuous he , that 's spotted with the least : A kind good natur'd Friend that strives to prove And know the Man that he intends to love , And weighs my Vertues , and my Faults , 't is just ( If happily my Vertues prove the most , ) To let that Scale go down ; and if on this He 'l be a Friend , I 'le bate some things amiss , And make the same allowance in weighing his : For those that would not have their Sores offend , Must not disgust the Pimples of their Friend : And 't is but just , that he that hopes to find A Pardon for his Faults , should be as kind , And give the like , and with a willing mind . 4. But now since Passion 's rooted in our Souls , As other faults that stick so close to Fools ; Why doth not Reason poise and mend our thoughts ? And see our rage proportion'd to the faults : When Supper 's done a Slave removes the Dish , And spills the Broth , or else le ts fall the Fish ; Now should the Master stab the Slave for this , He would be thought more mad then Labeo is : But how more mad are we , and more severe ! Our Friends but little , and but seldom Erre , ( And such small Faults good Natures ne're resent ; They sin as Men must do , and may repent . ) But yet for this we hate , for this we shun , As Bankrupts , Risio , the notorious Dun ; Who , when the Calends come , severely sues , And if the Debtor doth not pay the Use , He 's clapt in Jayl , and hears a tedious Bill , A killing Scroll , Item , and Item still : My Friend got drunk , perhaps hath foul'd my bed , Or bruis'd a Cup by neat Evander made , Or snacht away a Chicken from my Plate , And must I love my Friend the less for that ? What should I do then if he prov'd unjust , Refus'd to bayl me , Thiev'd or broke his Trust ? Those that hold Vices equal seem distress't , When leaving Sophistry they come toth ' Test : This Fancy doth with Law and Custom fight , And Interest too , that spring of Just and Right : When Man first crept from Mother Earth's cold Womb , He was a miserable Thing , and dumb ; Then they for Acorns fought , and shady Cave , With Nails , then Clubs , the Weapons Nature gave : And next with Swords which sad convenience found , And malice taught them they were fit to wound : Till Words and Names for Things , and Laws began , And civiliz'd the bruitish Creature Man : Then they built Towns , and settled Right and Just , And Laws to curb our Rapine , and our Lust ; For long e're Helen's time a thousand dy'd , Then thousands fought to get a beauteous Bride : But unrecorded fell , like Beasts they stray'd , Each caught his willing Female and enjoy'd : Till one more strong kill'd him , and was preferr'd , Just as the greatest Bull amongst the Herd : Look o're the Word 's old Records , there 's the Cause . 'T was fear of wrong that made us make our Laws : By Naked Nature ne're was understood What 's Just and Right , as what is Bad and Good , What fit and what unfit for Flesh and Bood : Nor Reason shews to break a Garden Hedge , Should be as great a Crime as Sacriledge : Let Rules be fixt that may our Rage contain , And punish faults with a Proportion'd pain : And do not flea him , do not run him through , That only doth deserve a kick or two : For I ne're fear that Thou wilt prove too kind , To too much Pity vitiously inclin'd , That can'st hold Vices Equal , and believe To Rob's no greater Crime than 't is to Thieve ; And who would punish all with equal hand If Thou wer 't King , and had'st the full Command : If he that 's wise and skilful in his Trade , Tho but a Cobler , must be neatly made , Be rich , be fair , be handsome and a King ; Why do'st Thou wish for 't since Thou hast the Thing ? But what Chrysippus said Thou dost not know , No wise Man yet did ever make a shoe And yet the Cobler's a wise Man ; how so ? Why , as Hermogenes , tho He holds his Tongue , Is skill'd in Musick and can set a Song ; And suffling Alfen though he lost his Awl , And threw away his Last , and shut his Stall ; And broak his Threads , yet was a Cobler still ; Thus every Tradesman if he hath but skill Is wise , and therefore only King : but stay , Unless you use your Club , with wanton play The waggish Boys will pluck thy formal Beard , Thou shalt be kickt , derided , scorn'd and jeer'd , Till thou do'st burst when Rage or Envy Stings , And snarl thou greatest King of mighty Kings . In short , whilst Thou a King shalt walk in State , And only foolish Crispin on Thee wait , To get a farthing Bath , I nobly live , The Faults I Fool commit , my friends forgive , And I as easily will pardon theirs , And so I 'le live secure , and free from Cares , A happier Private Man , Than Thou a King. SATYR IV. The Heads of the Fourth Satyr . ( 1. ) Lucilius was bitter but uncorrect . ( 2. ) Few read Satyrs , because they know they deserve the reproof . ( 3. ) Whether Satyr be a Species of Poetry . ( 4. ) A defence of his own Writings . ( 5. ) The manner how his Father bred him to Vertue . 1. CRatin and Eupolis that lash't the Age , Those old Comedian Furies of the Stage ; If they were to describe a vile , unjust , And cheating Knave , or scourge a Lawless Lust ; Or other Crimes ; regardless of his Fame They show'd the Man , and boldly told his Name ; This is Lucilius's way , He follows those , His Wit the same , but other numbers chose ; I grant he was a sharp and ready Wit , But rude and uncorrect in all he writ : This was his fault , He hastily would rhyme ( As if 't were such a wondrous thing in him ) Two hundred tedious lines in one hours time : Yet when with force his muddy fancy flow'd , Some few pure Streams appear'd amongst the mud : In writing much 't is true his Parts excell , Too lazy for the task of writing well : But grant that rare , what then ? Crispinus says You talk of writing , Sir , You claim the Bays , Come on Sir Critick , You shall have your fill , ( The wager be as little as you will ) Here 's Pen and Ink , and Time and Place , let 's try Which can write most and fastest , You or I : Thanks Heaven that made me slow , and gave a Pe● That writes but little , and but now and then : But you , like Bellows , till the Gold 's refin'd , Are puffing still , and all but empty wind . 2. Fannius was happy , whom the publick praise Preferr'd to Phoebus shrine , and Crown'd with Bays : But few read mine , and few my Books delight , And I scarce dare to publish what I write : Few like this way , for most know well enough , That they deserve , and fear my just reproof : Take any at a venture midst the Crowd , And you shall find him covetous or proud , One marry'd Whores , another Boys desires , One Silver 's white , and Alpius Brass admires : Another runs from East to West to cheat , Like Dust by Whirlwinds tost thro storms of Fate , And all to keep or better his Estate : All these hate Poets , these do fear our Rhimes , Look he 's stark mad , they cry , fly , fly betimes ; He spares no Friend , He will abuse the best , So he may laugh himself and have his Jest : And then what e're He writes flies o're the Town , To Pimps , to Hectors , and to Gamesters shown , To every one He meets He tells the Tale , Old Senseless Fops , Old Women , Boys and All : Now hear what may for t'other side be shown ; 3. First , I 'me no Poet , for to make me one 'T is not enough to fetter words in Rhyme , And make a tedious and a jingling Chyme ; And chiefly since my numerous feet enclose Such plain familiar Talk , and almost Prose ; No , He alone can claim that name that writes With Fancy High , and bold and daring flights , And sings as nobly as His Hero fights . And therefore some do doubt , ( though some allow ) If Comedy be Poetry or no , Because it wants that Spirit , Flame , and Force , And bate the numbers , 't is but plain discourse : Yet often there the careful Fathers rage , They storm , and swear , and crack the trembling Stage , A Rogue , a Dog , I 'le kick him out of Door ; When his young Stripling courts a Jilting Whore , And slights a noble Match ; or stow'd with drink , E'en whilst 't is day , He Sails behind his Link : And would not Pompon , were his Father here , Expect as harsh a check , and as severe ? Well then 't is not enough to keep due time , Observe just feet , and put plain words in Rhyme ; For break the Numbers , and the Verse affords But common angry talk , and usual words : Thus take what I , or what Lucilius writes , Tho now and then it Storms , and sometimes bites , Invert the Order and the Words transpose , No sign , as when you change ( When violent Wars Had burst their Brazen Gates , and broke the Bars : ) Of Poetry appears , 't is naked Prose . 4. But now enough , another Time shall show If 't is a part of Poetry or no : But now I will enquire how Men should hate This way of writing Satyr , and for what : Capri and Sulce , those Terrors of the Jayl , Both hoarse with pleading walk the Common-Hall , Their green Bags stusst with Bills , Indictments , Breves , A mighty Terror those to Knaves and Thieves ; But yet an honest Man that keeps his Oath , Nor robs nor steals , may safely scorn them both : If Thou' rt a Thief , as Coele and Byrrhus are , I 'me not like Sulce or Capri , why do'st fear , And why dread me ? My Book 's not set to Sale , Thumb'd by the Rabble upon every Stall , The Rascal scum , Hermogenes and All : I seldom do rehearse , and when I do , I 'me forc't because my Friends will have it so : But then in private , to my Friends alone , Not every where , nor yet to every one : Thousands i' th' publick Market-place recite , And trouble all they meet with what they write : Nay whilst they Bath , They studiously rehearse , The Eccho's raise the Voice and grace the Verse : Thus act our Fops , and without fear or wit , Never considering if the Season's fit , Or time convenient : Well , but what you write Doth hurt Mens fame , that 's your perverse delight : Why this to me ? Doth any Friend of mine Boldly affirm that this is my design ? He that himself shall blame his absent Friends , Or hears them scandaliz'd , and not defends , Sports with their Fame , and speaks what e're He can , And only to be thought a Witty Man , Tells Tales , and brings his Friend in dis-esteem , That Man 's a Knave , besure beware of him : Set Twelve to Supper , one above the rest Takes all the talk , and breaks a scurvy Jest On all , except the Master of the Feast : At last on him , when frequent Cups begin , T' unlock his Soul , and show the spight within : Yet him you count a Wag , a merry Soul , A pleasant , innocent , and harmless Droll : But if I smile perchance , if I presume To laugh because Rufillus doth perfume , That Female Man ; or nasty Gorgon note For studied filthiness , and smell of Goat : My smiles are Satyrs , and what e're I write , In me 't is all detraction , and 't is spight : In common Talk , as we have often done , If we discourse how Petil stole the Crown ; And you , as you are wont , his Cause defend , He hath a kindness for me , He 's my Friend , My old Acquaintance He , He is indeed , And faith I 'me glad at heart that He is freed ; And yet I wonder how He ' scapt ; 't is right , This , this is base detraction , this is spight : This , If I know my self , ne're relisht me , My Books from this , I 'me sure my Mind is free , But if some things appear jocosely writ , This you must pardon , this you must permit . 5. For my good Father did instruct me so , And by Examples taught me how to know What was unfit , and what was fit to do : For when He tutor'd and advis'd to thrift , And live content with that which He had left : Mark Byrrhus , he would say , and Alpi 's Son , How poor They live , now They are both undone ! Two fit examples by unhappy Fates , To fright young Heirs from spending their Estates : When He would fright me from a lawless Love , And Whores , He said , Young Horace do not prove Like Sectan , do not lead so loose a Life , And seek stoln joys , and with another's Wife ; Use what the Laws permit , and be advis'd , Trebonius got no credit when surpriz'd : Philosophers perhaps may show the Cause , And talk of Reason and of Nature's Laws , Why some things should be hated , some admir'd , And why avoided some , and some desir'd , But 't is enough for me to form thy mind , And leave it to the Ancients rules inclin'd , And whilst Thou want'st a Tutor , keep thy Name And manners spotless , and preserve thy Fame ; For when a Man , then thou must walk alone , No prudent care to guide Thee but thy own : Thus he advis'd ; What e're He 'd have me do , He says , Look such a one doth so and so ; And sets a Worthy Man before my Eyes , And when he would forbid a Thing , He crys , Is not this bad when such and such a One Is scandaliz'd for 't over all the Town ? Unruly Patients when They chance to hear Their Neighbour's lately dead , begin to fear , Grow orderly and check their Appetite ; So others ill repute do often fright Young Men from following Vice and false delight : Hence 't is that sound from greater faults I live , But small , and such as Friends may well forgive , I grant I have ; yet even those grow less By my own Care , or by my Friends advice ; For when I lye or when I walk alone , I usually revolve what I have done ; This may be better'd sure , and this commend , And make me greater , and a pleasant Friend : Sure this is bad , and this is not well done ; What shall I act like such and such a one ? All this I use to think on when alone : At leasure times I write my foolish thoughts , And this is one of Those my little faults , Which if you won't forgive , but prove severe , A Band of Poets to my Aid I 'll rear , ( For we can make a Band ) and like the Jews I 'le force you take that side you now refuse . SATYR V. The Heads of the Fifth Satyr . ( 1. ) A Description of his journey to Brundusium , with all the various occurrences in the way . FRom stately Rome I walkt a little way , And reacht Aricia first , and there I lay ; My Company as good as Man could seek , The Lawyer Heliodore a Learned Greek : Then Forum Apii , that 's a paltry Town , With Tars and Pedlars throng'd , and those alone ; We made two days on 't hither , tho most but one ; For to quick Travellers 't is a tedious road , But if you walk but slow 't is pretty good : Here ' cause the water did corrode the Tast , And hurt the Stomach , I resolv'd to fast ; And envy'd those that Sup't , now Night appears And o're the Heaven spreads shades , and twinkling Stars : And then the Boys and Tars began to roar , A Boat , a Boat , so ho , you Son of a Whore , Pox , Thou wilt sink the Boat , enough , no more : And whilst They take the Fare we were to pay , And tye the Mule , a whole hour slips away : The Boat was full of Fleas , and those molest , And croaking Frogs all night disturb'd our rest : The Mule-man and the Boat-man sate up late , Both drunk , and sang a Catch of merry Kate : At last the weary Mule-man rolls to Bed , With fiery Eyes , swoln Guts , and aking head : The Boat-man too resolv'd to work no more , But ty'd his Mule to graze along the shore , Then fell asleep , and there all night doth snore : And now the Sun climb'd o're the Eastern Hill , And show'd the Day , but yet our Boat stood still ; Till one , a surly fellow , leapt from far , And back and side He cudgel'd drowzy Tar : This made him work and follow our Command , And so at ten a Clock we came to Land : Feronia was the place , and there we Dine ; Thence three miles farther to another Inn : My kind Mecaenas was to meet me there , With good Cocceius sent on great Affair , On Embassies , 't was their delightful toyl To make new Friends , and Enemies reconcile : And here because my travelling did inflame , I drest my Eyes , mean while Mecaenas came , Cocceius , Capito , and Fronto — That Fronto delicate in mind and face , And great with Antony as any was : At little Fundi we refus'd to bait , But laught at proud Aufidiu's Pomp and State ; A Scrivener lately , now with Mace and Gown He huffs , and proudly Lords it o're the Town : To Formiae next ; There Capito meat affords , Murena Lodging , so we liv'd like Lords : The next day was a happy joyful day , For then at Sinuessa on our way , Plotinus , Virgil , Varius too attends , All worthy Men , and my obliging Friends : Oh how did we embrace ! What shouts we gave ! A Friend 's the dearest thing a Man can have : Next night near Campan's Bridge our Stage was good , And there we Lodg'd , and as the Custom stood The Villagers presented Salt and Wood : Next Stage was Capua , there we made a stay , We came betimes , Mecaenas went to play , Virgil and I to Bed , my Eyes were sore , His stomach sick , and so we both forbore : And next we reach't Cocceius Farm at night ; A pleasant Seat , and stor'd with all delight : But now assist my Muse , and now relate How two base fellows quarrell'd , and for what : But first their Pedigree ; the generous , brave , And valiant Messius was a Noble Knave , An Oscian born ; Sarmentus was a Slave : Thus nobly born these Two , and nobly bred Began the Brawl , And first Sarmentus said , Faith Messius Thou art like an untam'd Horse ; We laugh ; Well , well , says Messius , take your Course , And shakes his head ; Oh were thy horns not gone , How thou wouldst push , since now when thou hast none Thou threatnest so ? but that 's a scurvy place , Those plaguy Scars thy brisly front disgrace . And then breaks many a jest upon his face : On every Pimple , and on every Wart , And bids him Mimick Polyphem ; No Art , No Vizor thou dost need , for thou art rough , And Nature 's given Thee ugliness enough . This Messius stomachs , and replies again , Well , Sir , when will you Consecrate the Chain You vow'd the Lares ? now you 're mighty proud , A Scribe , yet still your Ladies claim is good : But why I wonder should'st Thou run away ? A poor thin-gutted Rogue ; sure he might stay That feasted on an half-penny Loaf a day . This made our Supper pleasant , thence we rod To Beneventum , there our Inn was good : But whilst our sedulous Host makes too much hast To roast our Meat , and makes too strong a blast , He had almost been burnt , the Chimny fir'd , And flames as hungry to the Roofs aspir'd : Then hungry We , and all our Servants came To save the Meat and House , and quench the flame : Next day the known Appulian Mountains rise , Which hot Atabulus scorches as He flies : To pass these Hills had prov'd too great a toyl , But small Trevicum gave us rest a while , We staid , quite blinded in a smoaky house , For all They had to burn was leaves and boughs : Here I poor Noddy half the night or more Expected a sorsworn , a jilting Whore , At last dull sleep did blunt my keen desire , His lazy hand spread o're , and check't my fire : But then some wanton Dreams , too loose to tell , Supply'd her place , and did the feat as well : Thence four and twenty Miles in four hours time , To a small place whose name wo'nt stand in Rhyme : But yet by Signs 't is very eas'ly known : First then , the Water 's scarce o're all the Town ; The cheapest Thing that Nature hath bestow'd Here 's dearly sold ; the Bread is very good : This oft the wary Traveller approves , And when He parts , He fills his Bag with Loaves : For none Canusium yields but gristy Bread , This Town was built by Valiant Diomed , The Nymphs averse , 't is like the former , poor , Nor can it boast one Quart of Water more : Here Varius left us , but appear'd to be Concern'd to part , and all as much as He : Next night we reach 't to Rubi , there we lay , All very weary , for the tedious way Was dirty , and besides it rain'd all day : Next Morn the Sky was fair , the Weather good As far as Bari's Town , but worse the Road : Here we had sport enough , and cause to smile , For some that would our easie Faith beguile , Would needs perswade that in their Sacred Quire Sweet Incence burns without the help of fire : Ay , let the Jews believe it if they please , Not I , I know the Gods must live at ease : Nor when strong Nature doth some wonders show , Can I believe They meddle here below : Hence to Brundusium , there I left my Friends , And so my Story and my Journey Ends. SATYR VI. To MECAENAS . ( 1. ) He commends him for looking on the Excellencies , not the Families , of Men. ( 2. ) Against Pride . ( 3. ) His acquaintance with Mecaenas . ( 4. ) How his Father bred him . ( 5. ) That he is very well contented with his small Estate . 1. BEcause thy Veins are fill'd with Royal Blood , Thy Birth is Noble , Family as good As all Hetruria boasts , you are not proud : Because thy Ancestors did Armies guide , Kings by thy Fathers and thy Mothers side , Thou dost not slight a Man of mean Degree , As most Men use to do , for instance , Me , Whose Father was a Slave , and lately Free : For you believe , and you are right in This , No matter whence He comes , but what He is : No matter if his Race be low , his blood Be mean , if but his Mind be great and good : Before King Tully's time , by Birth a Slave , A thousand Men of mean descent were brave , And fill'd the Honors that the People gave : But Noble Laevin though Valerias Son ( By whose wise Conduct this great State begun , When Tarquin They , the lofty and the Proud , Expell'd ) was never valu'd by the Crowd : The Crowd those Common Slaves to empty Fame , That more than the Deserts regard the Name , Dazled with Family and gawdy shows : Then what should We , what We the Wise propose , We that are thought a different Kind from Those ? But at Elections grant the Crowd refuse Ignoble Decius , and Levinus chuse ; And grant the surly Censor Appius scorn , And shove me off , because but meanly born Or else deserv'dly ' cause I would be brave , And seek a finer skin than Nature gave : Yet Glory's shining Chariot swiftly draws With equal Whirl the Noble and the Base : 2. What profit was it , Tully , to resume Thy once lost Honors , spread thy gawdy Plume And be a Tribune ? Thence more hate began , More Envy rose than when a Private Man : For when a Fool shall make a mighty stir , Swagger and huff in Golden Chain and Fur ; All Eyes streight turn to the unusual State , And studiously enquire , what Fellow 's that ? What Family ? As one that shows a face Pox't , Meager , Pale , and such as Barrus has , Yet would be handsome thought . Where e're He goes The Ladies cry , look how the fellow shows , And streight examine his Leg , his Calf and Nose . Thus when one thrusts himself upon the State , And cries , Come I 'll sustain the Nation 's weight , The Empire and Religion be my Care , I 'll manage all : This makes the People stare , This makes them ask what is He , whence came He ? What was his Mother ? Of what Family ? Or is He base , his Sire of mean Degree ? And what shall base-born you , Sir , rule the Law , Lord it o're Citizens , and hang and draw ? My Collegue Novius , Sir , is mean to me , He 's what my Father was , a Slave made Free. What then , doth that enoble all thy blood , Make Thee Messala , Paulus , or as good ? Yet did two hundred Drays , and all the Crowd Of two great Funerals meet , He bawls so loud That He would drown the Horns and Trumpets Noise ; This pleases , we are taken with his Voice : 3. But to my self the Son of a Free'd-Man , — Whom Envious Eyes and Envious Tongues pursue , Because , My Lord , I am belov'd by you : But once because I had a good Command , And as a Tribune led a Roman Band : The cause unlike , for those that may pretend To envy me , for Honours Chance can send , Yet may not be displeas'd that you 're my friend : Since neither Fancy nor the Pop'lar Voice , But prudent Care , and Worth doth guide your choice : And , Sir , this happiness I dare not own Was Chance , for 't was not Chance that made me Known : For Virgil did commend me to your Grace , And Varius often told you what I was : When sent for , Sir , in few and broken words , In such as Infant Modesty affords , I did not tell you my Descent was great , I did not say I had a vast Estate , But what I was ; and your Reply was short , As 't is your Custom ; so I left the Court , And to my fields retir'd ; at nine months end You sent for me , and bad me be your Friend : And this I think is great , this makes me proud , That I pleas'd you , who know what 's bad from good , By Vertue , not by Nobleness of Blood : 4. If only little stains do spot my Soul , ( As perfect Beauties often have a Mole ) Tho I 'me Secure and free from all the foul : If none on me can truly fix disgrace , If I am neither Covetous , nor Base ; If innocent my life , if ( to commend My self ) I live belov'd by every Friend : I thank my Father for 't , for He being poor , His Farm but small , the usual ways forbore ; He did not send me to Sir Fabius School To teach me Arts , and make me great by rule : Such as our Great-mens Sons and Nobles seek , With Book in hand , and Satchel round their Neck , And meanly pay their Master by the Week . But first He boldly brought me up to Town , To see those ways , and make those Arts my own , Which every Knight and Noble taught his Son : So well attended , and so richly drest I walkt thro Rome , that those that view'd me , guest I was a Man of Wealth , a Knight at least . Himself my carefull'st Guardian watcht me still , In short , He so supprest the growth of ill , That ( Vertue 's hight ) not only kept me pure From vitious Deeds , but ill repute secure : Nor did He fear the Censuring World should blame His high designs , or I be damn'd with shame , If after all his Cost I should be made A Common Cryer , or a meaner Trade ; Or else , as He himself , have poorly liv'd A mean Excise-man , nor should I have griev'd : I owe more thanks , and more respect for this , Nor shall I e're , whatever Fops advise , Repent of such a Father if I 'me wise . Therefore as Others when the haughty scorn , 'T was not our fault we were not nobly born , I do no say , nor mind those meaner cares ; My words and thoughts are different far from theirs . 5. For should kind Nature bid my Soul retire , Go back to Birth , and chuse a Noble Sire , As great as Thought could frame , or Pride desire ; Content with those I have , let others choose , I would the Noble and the Great refuse : And this is foolish , this a wild design I' th' Crowd's Opinion , Wise perhaps in thine , Because I love my ease , with prudent care , And shun a weight who am not us'd to bear : For streight my small Estate I must enlarge , Salute more Men , and live at greater charge , Companions get , lest I , in Field or Town , The noble I , be seen to walk alone : More Grooms and Horses keep , a Coach beside , And all the costly Vanities of Pride : Now on my bob-tail'd Mule all gall'd and sore , My Wallet galls behind , my Spurs before ; I ride when e're I will , I ride at ease As far as soft Terentum if I please ; None , as of Tully's baseness , shall of mine complain , On whom , when Praetor , as a noble Train , In the Tiburtine way five Boys did wait , And bore a stool and flask of Wine in State : I live , Sir Noble , I can justly boast Better than you , and happier far than most : I walk alone where e're my fancies lead , And busie ask the price of Herbs and Bread : Thro cheating Rome about the close of day I freely walk , I go to Church and pray , Then home , where I shall find a sparing Treat , And three small pretty Boys bring up the Meat : Just by a White-stone-Table stands to bear Two Pots , one Cup , and equal to my fare A Cruise and Platter , all poor Earthen Ware. And then I go to bed , and take my rest , No guilty Conscience frets , no Cares molest , No sad remembrance of my former Crimes ; No Suits to bid me be at Court betimes : Where Marsya's Statue stands , and fears to brook The fury of the younger Novius look : " I sleep till Ten , then walk , or read a while , " Or write for pleasure , ' noint my self with Oyl , Not such as Natta pours , the rich , the base , Who robs the dying Lamps to grease his face . But when that heat invites to cooler streams , I bath , and fly the fury of the beams ; I eat not greedily , but just enough To stay my stomach , and keep hunger off ; This is their life who are unloos'd from fears , Weighty Ambition , and its vexing Cares : This comforts me , this more contentment brings , Then if my Birth were high , my Race were Kings . SATYR VII . A Scolding Law-suit between Persius and Rupilius , sur-nam'd The King. HOw mungrel Persius paid Rupilius off , Sur-nam'd the King , that banish't railing Huff , And gave him Quid for Quo , I think is known To all the Blind and Barbers shops in Town : This Persius rich half Asia did molest With Law-suits , and the King amongst the rest : Bold , Impudent He was , and still at strife , And as malicious as the King for 's Life . Haughty , and such a bitter Rogue to rail , That Piso hardly could blow wind in 's Tail : But to return , when nought could calm their rage , ( For so 't is still when Two great Souls engage : ) Thus in Achilles and in Hector's strife , Their Emulation was as long as life ; Because they both were brave , their minds were great , Their courage equal , and alike their heat ; But when two Cowards , or unequal Foes , As when soft Glaucus Diomed did oppose , The weaker yields unable to defend , And gives the other bribes to be his Friend . When Brutus Asia rul'd , this railing Pair , Not by th and Bacchus were a Match so fair , Began their Suit ; away to Court they run Both hot , and gaz'd at both by every one . Persius begins and doth the Cause explain , ( We laugh , and as He speaks we laugh again ) And praiseth Brutus much , and all his Train : He calls him Asia's Sun , a glorious thing , And all were Stars benign except the King ; The Dog-Star He , that Star that poison yields , And sheds malicious Influence o're our fields . Thus heedlesly he still pursu'd his Theme , As fierce and muddy as a Winters Stream . The King enrag'd at this , and swoln with hate , Empties his Stomach straight in Billingsgate ; The finest Rhetorick the World hath known , The very inside of a Bawling Clown . But Persius netled with his sharp replies , At last , Brutus , since Thou art wont , He cries , To murther Kings ; for Heavens sake why not This ? For this would prove a good and great design , Brutus , this ought to be an act of thine . SATYR VIII . The Heads of the Eighth Satyr . ( 1. ) Priapus tells how He came to be a God. ( 2. ) Discourses how the Witches come at Night and trouble him . ( 3. ) Discovers their Ceremonies . 1. LOng time I lay a useless Piece of Wood , Till Artists doubtful for what the Log was good , A Stool , or God ; resolved to make a God : So I was made , my Form the Log receives , A mighty Terror I to Birds and Thieves : My Hook and my vast Pole the Thieves affright , And keep the Garden safe from Rogues by night : My gastly Head is Crown'd with staring Reed , To fright the Sparrows from the new-sown Seed ; 2. This Plat where now I stand was heretofore A Common Place of Burial for the Poor , Here by the Common Beadle of the Town The Poorer sort , and Spendthrifts Corps were thrown , They got this Plat when they had spent their own . A thousand Foot in length , three hundred broad As the Inscription shows , by Will bestow'd For Publick Use , and for the Common Good. But now where only frightful Bones were seen , That Checkred with a gastly White the Green , Mecaenas built a Summers soft retreat : The Air is Good , and 't is a pretty Seat. And now I take but very little Care , For Thieves and Birds that come and rifle here ; The troublesome Witches vex me more then They , Those Wretches I can never drive away : For when the Moon is up , each comes and pulls Her pois'nous Herbs , or gathers Bones and Skulls . 3. I oft have seen the Hag Canidia there , Bare-foot , Her Coat tuck 't short , and loose her Hair : With elder Sagana , I saw them run , ( They both were gastly , pale to look upon . ) I heard them howl , and saw the furious Witch , Whilst with her Nails she scrap't a little Ditch , Then tear black Lambs , and pour in all the Blood , And call the hungry Ghosts to take their Food , The Ghosts that were to tell her what she wou'd . Of Wool and Wax they made two Images , Which the bewitch't and Witches Forms express , The Wool the greater , to torment the less : The Wax was to be whipt , and seem'd to bow , And there stood cringing as it fear'd the blow . One Hecate invokes with dreadful Pray'r , And one Tisiphone , and streight They hear Black Serpents hiss and Hell-hounds barking there . The Moon skulk't streight , and as afraid to view This gastly sight , behind the Tombs withdrew . Now if I lye let Birds disdain my Reed , And come and Perch , and dung upon my Head : Let me be spit , let me be piss't upon By all the Rogues and Rascals of the Town : Why should I mention all I saw or heard ? How in their Ditch They hid a Tyger's Beard ; And Serpent's Tooth : how with a squeaking Voice The Witch and Ghost discours't ? how harsh the Noise ? How by slow Fires the Waxen Form did wast : And frighted I reveng'd my self at last . For loud , as a blown Bladder when 't is broak , I stoutly farted from my Arse of Oak ; The frighted Witches start and drop for fear Canidia Teeth , and Sagana false Hair ; Away their Charms and pois'nous Herbs were thrown , Each takes her ambling Switch , and hasts to Town , It would have made you split to see Them run . SATYR IX . The Description of an Impertinent Fop that plagued Horace in his walk . AS I was walking through the streets of Rome , And musing on I know not what nor whom , A Fop came up , by name scarce known to me , He seiz'd my hand , and cry'd , Dear Sir how d' ye : I thank you , pretty well as times go now ; All happiness : I wish the same to you : But when He follow'd me , I turn'd and cry'd , What farther business , Sir ? And He reply'd , What don't you know me Sir ? No faith : What no ? Come Horace now you jest , I 'me sure you do ; Why I 'me a Scholar : Sir , I 'me glad of that , 'T will make me prize you at a higher rate : Uneasie thus , and eager to be gone , Sometimes I walkt but slow , now faster on , My Foot-boy whisper'd now , and now I stopt , Now turn'd about , still Sweating till I dropt : Ten thousand times I softly curst my Fate , And envy'd deaf Bolanus happy State : Whilst He , Eternal Clack , of all we meet Said something , praising Houses , Town , and Street : But when He saw me so uneasie grown , And answer nothing ; Sir , you would be gone , But faith , Dear Sir , We must not part so soon ; I love your Company , I 'le follow still , I must make one , Dear Sir , go where you will : 'T is too much trouble for you , I design Beyond the Bridge , to see a friend of mine Unknown to you , your kind attendance spare , It will be rude to trouble you so far : Sir I 'me at leasure , I have time to spend , And I can walk I 'me sure to serve a friend : I 'le go : And thus when no release appears , Like an o'reladen Ass I hung my Ears . Then He , Sir , If I don't mistake my Parts , Not Varius Wit , nor Viscus great Deserts Can claim your friendship half so much as mine ; Which of the Wits can write so smooth a line , Which more than I , or which with greater ease ? 'T is almost natural in me to please : Who can his limbs to softer motions bring ? Hermogenes might envy when I sing : And then he stopt a while , and I put in : Have you a Mother Sir , or any Kin That would be glad to see you ? I have none , For thanks kind Stars they all are dead and gone : Oh Happy They , and I the last remain , Come , pray Sir , quickly rid me of my pain ; For now the fatal hour , the time is come , The Midwife told me when she read my doom . She turn'd the Sieve , and said , Nor Sword , nor Cough , Nor Poison , Plague , nor Charms shall take him off : Nor the Catarrh , nor Flux , nor Pox destroy , But an Eternal Tongue shall kill the Boy , And therefore would He have his life be long , When grown a Man avoid a talking Tongue : By this 't was nine a Clock or somewhat past , And we to Vesta's Temple came at last . And there that day He had a Cause to hear , And was to lose his Suit or else appear . Come pray , Sir , as you love me stop a while , Faith Sir I cannot stand , nor have I skill In any Point , and I 'me oblig'd to go : Well then , What must I leave my Cause , or You ? Me by all means : No , hang me if I do : And so march't on ; and I ( with one too strong What Man can strive ? ) look't blank , and sneak't along . How doth Mecaenas ( thence his Chat began ) Affect you now ? You are the subt'lest Man : You make Hay whilst it shines , but take my word , To have another always near my Lord , And next to You in favour , would secure My Lord 's good Will , and make your Fortune sure : Fix me the Man , and let them do their best , I 'le lay my life on 't you shall rout the rest : Sir , you mistake , that 's not our Course of Life , We know no Jealousies , no Brawls , no Strife ; From all those ills our Patrons House is free , None ' cause more Learn'd or Wealthy troubles Me , We have our Stations , all their own pursue : 'T is strange , scarce credible : and yet 't is true : This whets my wish , I 'me eager for a place : I shall not rest till I am near his Grace : Pray stand my Friend , I 'me sure of good success , He may be wrought on if you please to press : But Sir , at first he is of hard access : Well , when Occasion serves , I 'le play my part , I 'le spare no cost and charge , try every Art , Hang on his Coach , wait on him , all I can , Bribe , Flatter , Cringe , but I 'me resolv'd to gain , 'T is only Labour , Sir , can raise a Man. As thus He talk't , a Friend of mine came by , Who knew the fellow's humour more than I. We stop't , and talk't a while , as How do'st do ? Whence came you , Sir , I pray ? and whither now ? Mean while I shrug'd , a thousand signs I show'd , I squeez'd his hand , and did what e're I cou'd , I nodded , cough't , and wink 't to let him see I stood in need of 's help to set me free ; He cruel Wag , tho knowing my intent , Pretended ignorance of all I mean't : I rag'd ; at last , A little while ago You had some business , pray let 's have it now : I mind it well , but , Sir , another day , My business calls me now a different way ; 'T is Holiday , I visit yonder shrine , And must not mix Prophane with things Divine : I don't mind Holidays ; but Sir I do , A little tender Conscienc'd , Sir , I vow , One of the Crowd , I go to Church and pray , Your pardon , Sir , we 'll talk another day : Did ever such unlucky Beams arise ! Ever so black a day ! unkind He flies , And leaves me gasping for a little life , Just at the mercy of the Butcher's knife : When lo his Adversary cry'd , Oh , Oh! Sir Raschal , have I caught you , whither now ? Pray Sir bear witness , gladly I consent , He 's forc't to Court , and I as freely went : The People Crowd and Shout ; but mid'st the strife I scap't , and so Apollo sav'd my Life . SATYR X. The Heads of the Tenth Satyr . ( 1. ) He maintains the censure he had given of Lucilius . ( 2. ) Discourses of Poetry . ( 3. ) Satyr is his proper Talent . ( 4. ) He is content with the praise of the best Judges . 1. WEll , Sir , I grant I said Lucilius Muse Is uncorrect , his way of Writing loose , " And who admires him so , what Friend of his " So blindly doats as to deny me This ? " And yet in the same Page I freely own , " His Wit as sharp as ever lash't the Town ; But This one sort of Excellence allow'd , Doth not infer that all the rest is good : " For on the same Account I might admit " Labenius Farce for Poems and for Wit. 2. Well then 't is not enough to please the Crowd , And make them laugh to prove the Poem good : Yet this I grant a sort of Excellence : He must be short , nor must He clog his sense With useless words , or make his Periods long , They must be smooth , and so glide o're the Tongue : And sometimes He must use a graver stile , And then jocose , and He must laugh a while . Now like an Orator , a Poet now ; Their different Vertues , and their Graces show , Now like a Gentleman whose fine discourse Design'dly easie is , and free from force , Instructive Mirth , and where a waggish sneer Doth nick the great Ones more then a severe : " This was the drift of all our Ancient Plays , " In this They may be follow'd , and with Praise But these Hermogenes ( those blundring heads ) Scarce knows ; and t'other Ape-face never reads : Poor thick-skull'd Sots that sing a Catch or two From Calvus , and that 's all that they can do . Ay , but He 's excellent ; for many times He mixes Greek with Latine in his Rhimes . Dull Sots to think that Poetry and Wit , Which e'en the Rhodian poor Pitholeon writ . Ay , but the Speech thus mixt is neat and fine , 'T is sweet like Latine mixt with Greekish Wine . But you Sir , that can't think this Censure true , But do●● on Lucill , I appeal to you , Only in Verse , or when you treat of Laws , Or plead suppose , Petillus desp'rate Cause ; Whilst Pode and Corvin eagerly accuse , Would you this mix't , this Mungrel Language use : As 't were forget your own , and Greek confound With Latine , like the Apulians double sound ? When I , a Latin , once design'd to write Greek Verses , Romulus appear'd at night ; 'T was after Twelve , the time when dreams are true , And said ; Why Horace , what do'st mean to do ? 'T is full as mad the Greeks vast heaps t' encrease , As 't is to carry Water to the Seas . Whilst swelling Alpin in his lofty way , Murders poor Memnon in his Barbarous Play ; Or awkerdly describes the head of Rhine ; This pleasant way of writing Satyr's mine . 'T is not for glory , nor to please the Age , Nor get the Bays , nor often tread the Stage . True Comedy Fondanus only writes , Pollio the Acts of Kings , and Noble Fights , Strong Epic-Poems Varius best can raise , And Virgil's happy Muse in Eclogues plays , Facetious , soft , and justly wins the Bays . In Satyrs I , which Varro try'd in vain , And others too , may have a happy strain : Yet than Lucillius less I freely own , I would not strive to blast his just renown , He wears and best deserves to wear the Crown . Ay , but I said his fancy muddy flow'd , And faulty Lines did oft exceed the good . Well Sir , and is e'en Homer all correct ? Is He , Sir Critic , free from all defect ? Doth not Lucillius Accius Rhimes accuse ? And blame our Ennius's correcter Muse ? For too much lightness oft his Rhimes deride , And when He talks of his own Verse , for Pride ? Then what 's the Reason that his friend repines , That when I read Lucilius looser lines , I try if 't is his Subject won't permit , More even Verse , or if 't is want of Wit ? But now if any is content to chime , And just put naked Words in Feet and Rhime , And write two hundred Lines in two hours time . As Cassius did , that full o're-flowing Tide Of Wit , and who was burnt , ( or fame hath ly'd ) With Piles of his own Papers when he dy'd . Well then suppose Lucilius was a Wit , His Vertue 's more than Faults in what He writ . Correcter than the Older Writers own , And that we Satyr owe to him alone , Satyr a Poem to the Greeks unknown . Yet did He now again new life Commence , He would correct , he would retrench his Sense , And pare off all that was not Excellence ; Take pains , and often when he Verses made , Would bite his Nails toth quick , and scratch his Head. When you design a lasting Piece , be wise , Amend , Correct , again , again Revise : Ne're seek the Crowd's unthinking praise , delight 4. ' That few , and Judges , read the Verse you write . Is 't thy Ambition mean unthinking Fool , To be a Classick thumb'd in every School ? That 's not my wish , for 't is enough for me , As hist Arbuscula was wont to say , Well well hiss on , for since I please the best , And those approve me well , I scorn the rest . Why should I vex to hear Pontitius blame My Poems , or Demetrius carp my Fame ? Or hungry Fannius at Tigellius Treat , Disgrace my Verse to get a little Meat ? Let Plotius , Varius , and Mecoenas love , Let Caesar , Virgil , Valgius all approve What I compose ; to these would I could joyn The Visci , and Messala's Learned Line , And Pollio , and some other Friends of mine , Whom I for modesty forbear to name , My good acquaintance all , and Men of Fame , Commend my Lines , and I should grieve to know They do not please Them , as I hope they do . I scorn Tigellius , and Demetrius noise , Dull Block-heads , let them Pipe among their Boys , And mind their Schools : Go Roger quickly run , Put this into my Book , and I have done . The End of the first Book of Satyrs . SATYRS . BOOK II. The Heads of the first Satyr . ( 1. ) He adviseth with his Friend what He shall write . ( 2. ) He concludes that his humour is for Satyr . ( 3. ) Will hurt none unprovok't . ( 4. ) No good Men have reason to be angry at Satyrists . 1. SOme Fancy I am bitter when I jeer Beyond the Rules of Satyr too severe ; Some that my Verse is dull and flat , and say , A Man may write a Thousand such a day . What shall I do Trebatius ? Why give o're , Thy scribling humor check , and write no more : The Counsel's good , and oh that I could choose , But I can't sleep for my unruly Muse : Why then ( for that will lay a rambling Head ) Go always tir'd , or else go drunk to Bed. Of if you needs must write , go raise thy Fame , By Caesar 's Wars , for that 's a noble Theme , And that will get Thee Wealth and an Esteem . I have the Will , but when I strive to fly , My Wing's too weak , nor can I rise so high . For 't is not every one can paint a War , How Iron Armies dreadful gay appear ; The Galli falling by a braver force , Or wounded Parthians tumbling from their Horse . Yet Thou , for such the wise Lucilius show'd Great Scipio , may'st describe him just and good : Well , when Occasion serves my Muse designs To try that way , but my unpolish't lines , Unless by chance a happy Time appears , Will never pass the judging Caesar's Ears , Whom if you try to stroak , He 's free from Pride , And kicks you off , secure on every side : And this is better than with railing Rhymes , To lash the faults and follies of the Times , Since all think they are hit , and all resent , And hate Thee , tho perhaps They are not meant . 2. What shall I do ? As most Men have their humours I have mine , Milonius Dances when He 's full of Wine : Pollux on Foot , on Horse-back Castor fights ; As many Men , so many their delights : I love to Rhyme , and have a railing Wit , And choose the way that wise Lucilius writ : He did to 's Book , as to a Trusty Friend , His secret Vertues , and his Faults Commend . And when a good or faulty deed was done , He trusted them with that , and them alone . And hence his Books do all his Life explain , As if we saw him live it o're again . This Man I imitate ; but what I am Faith I can't tell , nor know from whence I came ; For whether I my Birth t' Appulia owe , Or to Lucania , faith 't is hard to know , Since we Venusians live between these two ; Plac't here , as Tales of Ancient Fame relate , When the Sabelli bow'd to stronger Fate , On this side to secure the Roman State : Lest fierce Appulian or Lucanian Arms , Should take them unprovided for Alarms . 3. But yet this Pen of mine shall never wound If unprovok't , yet still I 'le keep my ground , Ready for all assaults , make this my guard , And stand on my defence , be still prepar'd , As with a Sword , yet sheath'd , and never draw Unless assaulted , to keep Rogues in Awe . Grant bounteous Heaven , Oh grant me welcome Peace , Oh grant this Sword of mine might rust in ease ! Let none hurt Peaceful Me with envious Tongue , For if he does , He shall repent the wrong : The warning's fair , his Vices shall be shown , And Life expos'd to all the Cens'ring Town ; Affronted Cervius threatens Suits of Law , Canidia Charms to keep her Foes in Awe . And Praetor Turius when he bears a grudge , If Thou shalt plead a Cause when He is Judge : Each fights with that with which he can prevail , And powerful Nature thus instructs us all . The Wolves with Teeth ; with Horns the Bulls begin : And whence , but from a secret Guide within ? Let Scoeva have ( for this he counts a wrong ) A Mother , that He thinks will live too long ; His pious Hand shall never wound her Heart , No wonder this , 't is not his proper Art. A Wolf ne're kicks , with Teeth a Bull ne're kills , But she shall take a Dose of poison'd Pills . In short then , whether I live long or no , Or Rich , or Poor , howe're my Fortunes go , Live here at Rome , or banish't take my flight , Whatever is my state of Life , I 'le write : Well , Sir , I see your Life then can'nt be long , Some great Ones , faith , will stop your railing Tongue . 4. How , Sir , Lucilius that did first ingage In writing Satyrs , and that lash't the Age , And strip't our Foplings of their Lyons skin , In which they look't so gay , all foul within . Did Loelius , or did Scipio hate his Muse ? Or storm , when He Metellus did abuse ? The Great-ones , and the Crowd did discommend , And valued Vertue only , and her Friend ? No , no , They treated him , and thought him good , And when remov'd from business , and the Crow'd , Would keep him Company , would laugh and jest , And sport until their little Meat was drest . What e're I am , altho I must submit To wise Lucilius , in Estate and Wit , Yet I with Great-ones live , this all confess , And envy , tho unwilling grants no less . And tho she thinks me soft , will find me tough , And break her Teeth , for I have strength enough ; I hope , Trebatius , this you grant is true , Yes , Sir , but 't is my pious Care for You , My Love that makes me give you this advice , Take heed of Scandal , Horace , and be wise . Well , Sir , if any scand'lously derides , Then let him suffer as the Law provides , If justly mighty Caesar is his Friend , He loves such Poems , and he will defend ; And thus if You a Man of spotless Fame , Shall lash another , that deserves the shame : And He grows mad , Indicts or Sues Thee for 't , The foolish Action shall be turn'd to sport ; He laugh't , and jeer'd at , You discharg'd the Court. SATYR II. The Heads of the Second Satyr . ( 1. ) The profit of a spare Diet. ( 2. ) The Difference between that and a sordid Table . ( 3. ) The advantages of it , in respect of Mind and Body . ( 4. ) Against Luxury . ( 5. ) Thrift , the best security against Fortune . 1. HOw great a Vertue 't is , how a great good , To live content , and with a little Food , ( These are not mine , but wise Ofellus Rules , An honest Man , but yet unlearn'd in Schools ) Learn not when full , or when a sumptuous Feast , With show and sight disturbs the eager Guest : Or else oppress and leave the easie mind , Averse to Good , and to ill Rules inclin'd , But seek with me , before that Thou hast din'd . And why this Caution ? If I can I 'le tell , Brib'd Judges ne're Examine Causes well : Go take some Exercise , pursue the Chace , Or Hunt , ride the great Horse , or run a Race , Handle the Roman Arms , those heavier far Than Groecian Toys , or else go throw the Bar ; Or play at Ball , be eager at the sport , And make thy Game seem pleasant , and but short . Now when this Exercise hath made Thee sweat , And rais'd thy Stomach , and thou fain would'st eat , Then scorn to tast unless 't is dainty Meat : When thirsty , scorn to drink , refuse to Dine , Unless Thou hast the best and racy Wine . Besides the Butler's gone abroad to play , No costly Fishes can be caught to day ; The Winds defend them , and the Seas are rough , Then Bread and Salt will please thee well enough . How so ? And prithee how can this be done ? Why Sir , the pleasure that 's in eating known , Is not i' th' Meat , but in thy self alone . Make Exercise thy Sawce , let that excite , For fleamy and a squeasy Appetite Nor Trout , nor Tench , nor Oysters can delight . Yet I shall scarce perswade our curious Men , Let me advise , and talk , and talk agen , Not to eat Peacock , rather than a Hen. For They are prejudic'd because the price Is great , and his gay Feathers please the Eyes : As if those made it better ; do'st Thou Feast On those prais'd Plumes ? And do those fill thy guest , Or doth it look as gawdy when 't is drest ? Then since Hens flesh is quite as good , 't is plain The Peacock is preferr'd for 's gawdy Train . But grant some difference here , yet how do'st know If this same Pike be River Fish or no ? Caught here in Tyber , or in open Seas , For Thou do'st make a difference too in these ; Mad Fool , thou praisest Mullets vastly great , Which thou must mash , e're thou canst dress or eat : The greatness pleases then , yet all dislike Some bigger Fish , and scorn the larger Pike : Pray what 's the Cause of this ? Oh! let me see , Perhaps because , as Nature's Laws Decree , One usually is small , the other great ; Men seldom hungry scorn the common Meat : But says the Glutton , I love a larger Fish , It looks so Noble in a Lordly Dish . But you moist Winds now hear , be kind and good , Corrupt their Meat , and taint their costly Food : Tho 't is but newly taken taint their Bore , And let their Rhombus stink e're brought to shore : When plenty too profuse in vain invites , And strives to raise the squeasy Appetites . When the full Glutton strives in vain to eat , And takes sharp Herbs before his dainty Meat . We do not always feed on Sole and Bore , But use cheap Eggs , and Olives midst our store , So greatest Feasts have something that is poor . First Gallio's Kitchin infamous did grow For dressing Sturgeon , 't was not long ago , What had the Sea then fewer Soles than now ? No , but the Soles did then securely rest , Then nothing did but Winds and Waves molest , And the poor Stork liv'd safely in his Nest : Until a Proetor taught us how to use These Things , and made us foolishly profuse : And so if one would bring new sorts of Food , And stoutly say , a roasted Moor-hen's good : Our Fops would imitate , and praise his skill , Our Fops that are so easie bent to ill . 2. A sordid Table , and a thrifty one , Ofellus thinks distinct , in vain they shun One Vice , that to the other madly run : Old Aviden , Surnam'd The Dog , eats Sloes , And Olives five years old , as bad as those . These are his Meat , and all the Wine He drinks Is eager still ; his Oyl corrupt , and stinks : And that ( when very fine , when neatly drest , And at a Birth-day , or a Marriage Feast , When He would be Profuse , and Prodigal ) He pours himself upon his little Cale : Well then , what would you have a Wise Man do ? What Table keep ? you have propos'd me Two ; And which , Sir , must I imitate of these ? The choice is hard , and it is hard to please . Sir , He lives well that keeps the middle State , And neither leans too much to this , nor that : Such when he bids his Slaves do this and this , And tasks them too , as every Master his , Will not be cruel as old Albutius is : Nor yet like Noevius when he makes a Feast , With costly Oyntment will He wash his guest , For that too is a fault , a vice at least : 3. Now learn what good attends a sparing Meal , What pleasure , and what profit : First thou' rt well , Thy Health improv'd , thy Body free from pain ; But now that Meat confus'd doth hurt a Man , Thou hast experience , and sufficient proof ; One single Dish did feed Thee well enough , Thy Stomach took it , but when boyl'd with stew'd , Flesh mix't with Fish , the indigested load Is turn'd to Gall or Flegm , and spoyls the Blood : Observe how sickly and how pale the Guests , How discompos'd they rise from sumptuous Feasts ? Besides , the Body by the wild excess , Enfeebled , doth the nobler Mind oppress , It clogs it , and it makes its motions dull , And fixes here the breath of Heaven , the Soul : The others go to Bed , just close their Eyes , Such little slumber Nature's wants supplies , Then vig'rous to their proper business rise . Yet Those can have their sparing Meals increast On Holidays , or when they treat a Guest , Or would indulge , and when they please to Feast . Besides , old Age will come , and that must crave , A softer treatment far than Youth should have : But Thou , when sickness comes , or feeble Age , In vain do'st hope , fond Youth , to calm their rage , By softer usage , since thou dost enjoy The softest , whilst a young and vig'rous Boy : The Ancients did commend their stinking Bores , Yet not but that their smell was good as Ours , But ' cause they thought it better far to stay , ( That was the thriftier , and the nobler way ) And keep it till their tardy Guest was come , Than eat it sweet , and by themselves at home : These , these were Heroes , these were generous Men , And Oh that Nature had produc'd me then : 4. Dost Thou regard thy Fame which charms our Ears , With softer Musick than the sweetest Airs ? Take heed , Luxurious Living ruins that , And wasts thy Name as much as thy Estate : It makes thy Neighbours angry , Friends distrust , And Thee thy self unto thy self unjust , When Thou shalt wish for Death , of all bereft ; And not enough to buy a Halter 's left : 'T is true , to some this is a just reproof , This may be said to Tarsius well enough ; But not to Me ; I am secure from fate , For my Revenue's large , my Wealth is great , Enough to keep three Kings , a vast Estate . Then is there no way else to spend thy Store ? Why since thou' rt Rich , is any good Man Poor ? Why are not ruin'd Fanes rebuilt ? And why Doth not thy Wealth thy Neighbours wants supply ? And hath thy Country this superfluous Coin ? What measure hath it from this heap of Thine ? Kind fortune still , forsooth , shall smile on Thee , O future sport unto thine Enemy ! And which is better able to endure Uncertain Chance ? And which lives most secure ? He that doth never Fortune's smiles distrust , But Pampers up himself , and feeds his Lust ? Or He that lives on little now , and spares ; And wisely when 't is Peace , provides for Wars ? But by one instance to confirm this Truth , I knew Ofellus when I was a youth ; Then He was Rich , yet ' midst his greatest Store He liv'd as now , since Rapine made him Poor : Now you may see him with his Wife and Son , Till that Estate for hire which was his own : He Ploughs , he Sweats , and stoutly digs for Bread , Contented still , and as he wrought , He said , On working Days I never us'd to eat But Cale and Bacon , that was all my Meat : But when an old and honest Friend of mine , Or else my welcome Neighbours came to dine ; When it was rainy , or my work was done , We feasted not on costly Fish from Town ; But took what I could easily provide From my own Field , a Pullet or a Kid : And then for second course some Grapes were prest , Or Nuts , or Figs , and that was all my Feast : And after this we drank a Health or two , As far as harmless sober mirth would go ; And then thank't Ceres for our present cheer , And beg'd a plenteous Crop the following year : And now let Fortune frown , I scorn her force , How can she make our way of living worse ? Have we not had enough since we grew poor , Have we liv'd worse , My Sons , then heretofore , Before a Stranger came , and seiz'd my store ? For Nature doth not Me or Him Create , The proper Lord of such and such Estate : He forc't us out , and doth possess my Plain ; Another cheat shall force him out again , Or quircks in Law , or when those fears are past , His long-liv'd Heir shall force him out at last : That which was once Ofellus Farm is gone , Now call'd Umbrena's , but 't is no Mans own : None hath the Property , it comes and goes , As merry Chance , or stubborn Fates dispose , As God thinks fit , and his firm Nods Decree , Now to be us'd by Others , now by Me : Then live Resolv'd , my Sons , refuse to yield , And when Fates press make Constancy your shield . SATYR III. The Heads of the Third Satyr . ( 1. ) The Stoicks chide him for his Laziness . ( 2. ) According to the Stoicks Opinion all are mad . ( 3. ) The Covetous are mad . ( 4. ) The Ambitious . ( 5. ) The Spend-thrifts . ( 6. ) Lovers . ( 7. ) The Superstitious . ( 8. ) Concerning his own humor . 1. YOU write so seldom , scarce four sheets a year , A lazy Writer , but a Judge severe ! Still mending , and revising every Line , Still vex't that after all thy Sleep and Wine , Yet nothing comes that doth appear to be Worth publick view : What will become of Thee ? You here at Winters first approach did come , And left the Mirth , and drunken Feasts of Rome : Then sober now write something as you vow'd , Write something that may make thy promise good Begin , nought comes , thou dost in vain accuse Thy Paper , Pen , and Ink , and angry Muse : And yet you seem'd to promise something great If e're you came to your warm Country Seat. Why comes Menander , Plato , Sophocles ? And why such Learned Company as These ? If Thou design'st to spend thy time in Ease ? What wilt Thou write no more to live exempt From Envy ? Blockhead Thou shalt meet Contempt The Siren sloth thou must resolve to shun , Or lose that Fame thy better life has won . Thanks , Damasippus , thou art grave , and wise , And let the Gods bestow ( 't is a small price ) A Barbar on thee for thy good advice : But how came you to know my mind so well ? Why once I Traded till my Stock was gone , And now I mind , as here I live in Town , Others concerns since I have lost my own . For heretofore I drove a mighty Trade In Ancient Pieces , knew what Piece was made By such an Artist , and could tell what part Was rudely drawn , and what agree'd with Art. Then sold them dear , I had the only skill To purchase Lands , and with Advantage still . And hence among the Crowd my Name was known , The Mercury , the Trader of the Town : All this I know , and wonder now to view The Change : Why , Sir , a fancy strangely New Hath cur'd the Old : Thus from another part , As Head or Side , pain falls into the Heart . 2. Thus this Lethargick sometimes leaves his Bed , In frantick fitt , and breaks the Doctor 's Head. Well , Sir , suppose You ben't as mad as He , And beat me too , be what you please to be . Good Sir , do not deceive your self , for You , And All , if what Stertinius says be true , Are mad : He taught me This when first He cheer'd My drooping Mind , and bad me wear this Beard . For when by Trading I was quite undone , Thither I went , Poor Fool , resolv'd to drown : But He stood by , and in a lucky time He cry'd , take heed Young Man , forbear the Crime , 'T is foolish modesty that makes Thee dread , Amongst Mad-men to be accounted Mad : For first inquire what madness is , and see If every Man be not as mad as Thee , Tho They pretend to be so grave and wise , Then go and hang thy self , that 's my advice . He who 's to Folly or to Vice inclin'd , Or whom dark Ignorance of Truth doth blind , The Stoicks call him mad ; thus every one , Whether he holds the Plough , or fills the Throne , Is counted mad , but their Wise-man alone . Some call Thee mad , but those that call Thee so , Observe , I 'le prove them quite as mad as You : As Men that lose their ways in Woods , divide ; Some go on this , and some on t'other side , The Error is the same , all miss the Road , Altho in different Quarters of the Wood. Thus as they call thee , think that thou art mad ; But those that call thee so are quite as bad . For first , one sort of madness is to fear , When nothing frights , and when no danger 's near ; As if when on an even Field he goes , He should complain that Flames and Rocks oppose . Others , altho through different ways They run , Are quite as Mad , for they rush boldly on , Thro Flames , and boisterous Seas to be undone . And tho his Mistress , Sister , Father , Wife Should cry , Ah Dear , be cautious of thy Life ; Look , there 's a Ditch , take heed : he hears no more Then drunken Furius did , when heretofore He acted Hecuba , a lazy drone , He fell asleep , and slept securely on , Nor could be wak't , tho Catien's voice did rage , And Mother , hear , I call thee , crack't the Stage : Now grant this Madness I design to show , If this Man's mad , then all the World is so . First Damasippus's mad , because he buys Old Statues , true , for what 's more plain than This ? Is he that trusts him sober ? grant he is : Suppose here take this Sum of Gold , I said , I never do expect to be repaid , Are you mad if you take it ? No , but more If you neglect this easie offer'd store . For twenty Bonds on cheating Nereus draw , 'T is not enough , add all the chains of Law Cicuta can invent to hold him fast , This Proteus will avoid these Bands at last ; This Proteus Debtor , for when e're you bring Your Action , he 's a Stone , or any thing , A Bore , a Bird , a Tree when e're he will , And thus deride your loss , and cheat your skill . Now if He 's mad that wasts , and sober He That gets , Petillus is more mad than Thee , Who trusts thee so , and lets his Stock decay , By lending more than you design to pay . Sit still and hear , those whom proud thoughts do swell , Those that look pale by loving Coin too well ; Whom Luxury Corrupts , or fancy'd fears Oppress , and empty superstitious Cares ; Or any other Vice disturbs , draw near , I 'le prove that all are mad , sit still , and hear . 3. First give the Covetous the largest Dose Of Hellebore , or rather let 's suppose That whole Anticyra is design'd for those . Saberius Heirs did write upon his Grave , How much He left , what Legacies he gave , Or were to give as He by Will allow'd , Two hundred Fencers to delight the Crow'd , And costly Treats as great as Arrus wou'd , And Corn as much as Afric yields a year : Now whether this be well , or ill , forbear To censure me , and be not too severe : For Saberus , I think , was wise enough To know that he deserv'd and fear'd reproof : What did He mean when He his Heir injoyn'd , To write on 's Tomb how much He left behind ? Why whilst he liv'd he thought the being Poor Was heinous , and avoided nothing more ; And should be guilty of a damn'd excess , If he had left behind one farthing less . For Honor , Vertue , Fame , and all Divine And Humane Things must follow lovely Coin ; And he that gets but that is any thing , What e're he please , Just , Valiant , Wise , a King. And this He thought , as vertuous Acts , would raise His Fame , and get him an Immortal praise . This was his thought of Wealth ; How far from this Did Aristippus think and do with his ? Who bad his Slaves , as He o're Lybia past , Leave all his Wealth , because it stopt his hast . Which was most mad ? Sir , that Example 's vain , That solves old doubts by raising more again . He that buys Harps , and throws his Wealth away On Pipes , yet never does design to play : He that buys Awls , and Lasts , yet doth not know , And ne're designs to try to make a Shoe. Or Ships , and Oars , yet is averse to Trade , All , and there 's Reason for 't , would count him Mad And what 's He better , that still strives for more , Still heaps up Wealth , yet cannot use the Store , But fears to touch , as if 't were Sacred Ore. He that all Night lyes stretcht on heaps of Wheat , And watches what he does not dare to eat , With Bill in hand ; yet after all this pain , Tho 't is his own , he cannot touch a Grain . But still on Haws , and bitter Herbs doth Dine ; And tho his Cellar 's stor'd with racy Wine , Drinks Vinegar ; and tho extreamly old , Yet lyes on Straw , or Flocks , and lyes acold ; Whilst his embroider'd Silks , and costly Cloaths , Lye rotting in his Chests , and feed the Moths . Yet few do think these mad , for most like These , Are sick and troubled with the same Disease : What dost thou keep it for thy squandring Boy , Or for thy Slave , old Chuff , and ne're enjoy ? He 'll drink it out , and prove a mad Gallant ? Or dost thou keep 't lest thou thy self should'st want ? Oh Fool ! how little would thy Money wast , If thou on better Cale and Oyl did'st feast ? Wore better Cloaths , and went more neatly drest ? If thou canst live upon this little Store , Why dost thou swear , and lye , and cheat for more ? And are you Sober ? If you walk't the Street , Throw Stones , and fight , and justle all you meet , Or stab your Slaves , you would be quickly known , Call'd Mad by every Boy and Girl i' th' Town . Now thou dost hang thy Wife , and now dost kill With Drugs thy Mother ; art thou Sober still ? For why ? Thou dost not do this impious deed , At Argos Town , nor dost thou make her bleed , With a sharp Sword , as mad Orestes did . And dost thou think Orestes , heretofore , After He stain'd his Sword in 's Mother's gore , Grew mad alone , and was not mad before ? Yet after that , when you suppose him Mad , What did he do ? And were his Actions bad ? What did He do , that you dare discommend ? He neither stab'd his Sister , nor his Friend , But only as his Frenzy forc't , did call One Rogue , the other Witch , and that was All. Opimius that old Chuff , and richly poor , Who wanted e'en the Wealth he had in store : That on Feast-days did meanest Wine provide In Earthen Jugs , and Lees on all beside ; Lay in a Lethargy , all hope was gone , And now his joyful Heir ran up and down , And seiz'd the Keys and Chests as all his own . This the kind Doctor saw , and this design He us'd for Cure , he brought a Table in , And order'd some to tumble o're his Coin : This rous'd him , Then he crys , Sir you 'r undone , Wake Sir , and Watch , or else your Money 's gone : Your Heirs will seize it : What whilst I 'me alive ? Then wake and show it , Sir , come , come revive . What must I do ? Eat , Sir , What are you loath ? Pray take this little Dish of Barley Broth. What doth it cost ? Not much upon my word , How much pray ? Why Two Groats : Two Groats Oh Lord ! 'T is the same thing to me to be undone By Thieves or Physick , Doctor I 'le have none . Who 's Sober ? He that 's not foolish , that 's my Rule . What is the Covetous ? Both Mad and Fool. Suppose I am not Covetous , am I Streight Sober ? No ; Why Sir ? I 'le tell thee why : Suppose the Doctor says , this Patient's Thighs Are free from pain , What may he therefore rise ? No , tho his Thighs are free , yet violent pains May vex his Side , his Kidneys , or his Brains . So this Man neither Covets , nor Forswears , He is not Perjur'd , let him thank his Stars ; But He is Lavish , he is Bold and Proud , Then to Anticyra let him cross the Flood : For 't is as great a fault to be profuse , As 't is to get , and keep , and never use . Opidius did , as S●ory goes , divide His Farms between his Sons before he dy'd ; And said , and as he said he gravely smil'd , My Aulus I observ'd thee from a Child ; And when I saw thee Careless of thy Toys , And free to give thy Nuts to other Boys : And you Tiberius tell them o're and o're , And hoard them up , and still encrease thy Store : I fear'd both mad , would different Vices chuse , And one be Covetous , and one Profuse . Therefore I charge you both by all that 's dear , As You my Blessing love , and Curses fear , That neither You encrease your small Estate , Nor You consume , but live content on that ; For that will all your proper wants supply , And Nature thinks enough as well as I. And lest You be Ambitious , hear my Oath , Observe , I leave this Curse upon you Both : He that of You shall be Aedilis first , Or else a Praetor , let him be accurst ; What would'st thou wast thy Wealth ? spend every Groat To Bribe the heedless Crowd , and get their Vote ? That when thy Fathers Lands , his Ancient Rent , And all the Money he hath left , is spent , Poor naked Mad-man , thou may'st only gain A Brazen Statue , or a gawdy Train : Or be as fam'd ( thus once the foolish Ass Would be a Lyon ) as great Agrippa was ? 4. Great Agamemnon , why did you forbid A Tomb for Ajax ? Why ? Because I did : I am a King , what I command is right , And just : Well , I a private Man Submit : Yet if I seem unjust , and too severe , Let any speak , and I will fairly hear . Great King , may'st thou a happy Reign enjoy , And have a safe return from Conquer'd Troy. And may I freely ask , and answer Thee ? Thou shalt , speak what Thou wilt , Thou may'st be free Then why doth Ajax , He the Stout , the Brave , And who so oft the Grecian Ships did save , Achilles Second rot without a Grave ? That joyful Troy and Priam laugh to see , That He , by whom their Youth , that mighty He Is now deny'd himself a Grave by Thee ? Why ? He slew Flocks of Sheep o're all the Field , And when in 's Frantic fits , he thought He kill'd , My Brother , Me , Ulysses ; and He smil'd ; And You , when You your lovely Daughter led To Sacrifice , and o're her weeping head You pour'd the Salt and Meal , was sober still ? Why not ? When Frantic Ajax strove to kill The Innocent Flocks , how was the Action ill ? He curst the both Atrides much 't is true , But never e'en upon Ulysses drew , Nor Wife , nor Innocent Son , nor Brother slew : But I to get a Wind appeas'd the God , To have my Navy Sail I offer'd blood . Thy own Blood Frantick , 't was that did Attone : My own , but yet not Frantic , tho my own : He that shall take apparent Good with Bad , Confus'dly mix't , must be accounted Mad. And 't is all one , whate're these Crimes begin , Whether 't is rage or folly makes him sin : Whilst Ajax kills the harmless flocks you blame , He 's mad , whilst Thou design'dly sin'st for fame , And empty Titles , art thou not a Fool ? Art Sober , whilst Ambition swells thy Soul ? If one should bear a Lamb about the Town , Allow her a Sedan , and gawdy Gown , Call her his Daughter , Slaves and Gold provide , And a stout Husband , for the Youthful Bride , The Law would seize that wealth he wildly spends , And give it to the care of Sober Friends . And He that kills his Daughter for a Lamb , Canst thou pretend him Sober ? Fye for shame . Then where there 's folly , greatest madness rules , And wicked Men must needs be frantick Fools ; He must be mad that Courts an empty Name , A very Bedlam He , that 's Slave to Fame . 5. Now next the Foolish Spend-thrift's case propose , That he is mad e'en common Reason shows ; The Squire when come of Age , He takes his Land , Amaz'd with Wealth , he sends his strict Command , Be 't known to All that I have an Estate , And therefore let the Pimps and Tradesmen wait To morrow Morning early at my Gate : What then ? A Thousand come at his desire , And thus the crafty Pimp bespeaks the Squire ; We 're proud to serve you , Sir , and all that 's Ours , Thrice noble Squire , send when you please 't is Yours And thus the easie Squire replies again , Good honest Men , you take a World of Pain : You watch in Snow to catch a Bore for Me , And You fish for Me in the boisterous Sea : Whilst I 'me a Drone unworthy this Estate , Therefore do You take this , and You take that ; And You these Farms , I freely give You These , That I may use thy Wife , when e're I please : A costly Gem from his Metella's Ear , Aesop's loose Son dissolv'd in Vinegar , And drank it down , and then profusely laugh't , To think he drank a Province at a draught . Was 't not as mad as to have thrown the Gem Into a Common-shore , or muddy Stream ? The Sons of Arrus , those of high renown , Those famous Bully-Brothers of the Town : The most agreeing Pair in every Vice , Still fed on Nightingales of costly price , And were those Mad or Sober , Fools or Wise ? 6. If any grown a Man delights to raise Dirt Pyes , and like a Child , at Push-pin plays . Yokes Rats and Mice unto a little Plough , And rides upon an Hobby-Horse , or so , Sure he is mad : now I can prove with ease , That Love is a more childish Thing than These : And 't is all one whether you Sport and Toy . Play wanton Tricks , as when a little Boy , Or court and labour for a jilting Miss , Grow Pale and Whine : For let me ask thee this , Canst thou , like Polemon reclaim'd , remove Thy foppish dress , those Symptoms of thy Love ; As He when drunk , and Garlands round his head , Chanc't once to hear the sober Stoick read , Asham'd he took his Garlands off , began Another Course , and grew a sober Man ? Offer an Apple to a peevish Boy , He will refuse it ; here my pretty Joy , Come prithee take it : No , Sir , I 'le have none ▪ Yet , if unoffer'd , he will beg for One. Like him 's the Lover , who hath ask't in vain , Doubting if e're he should return again : Altho deny'd , when he would gladly wait , Unask't , and linger at the hated Gate : Now she invites , and Swears she will be kind : What shall I go , or rather cure my Mind ? She shuts me out , then asks me to return . What shall I go ? No though she begs , I 'le scorn . But lo , his wiser Slave did thus reprove , Sir , Reason must be never us'd in Love : Its Laws unequal , and its Rul●s unfit For Love's a thing by Nature opposite To Common Reason , Common Sence , and Wit. All that 's in Love's unsteddy empty , vain , There 's War and Peace , and War and Peace again . Now He that strives to settle such as These , Meer things of Chance , and faithless as the Seas . He were as good design to be a Fo●l By Art and Wisdom , and be mad by Rule . And ' cause thy Nut ( a sign that thou shalt prove A happy Man , and Conqueror in thy Love ) Prest thro thy fingers , strikes the Roof above ; You leap for joy , unable to contain , Is that the Action of a sober Man ? And when the old , and so tho wiser grown , You prattle with her in a Childish Tone : Art thou not mad as He , that loves his Toys ? And plays at Push-pin with the little Boys ? To this add all the rage of wild desire , The Murders that attend this frantick fire ; Observe , poor Nerus lately struck his Miss , Then kill'd himself , what dost thou think of This ? Was this Man Frantick ? or will you allow That He was sober ? in his Wits like you ? Yet freely grant him guilty of a Sin ? To the same thing adapting words akin ? 7. A. Libertine , and old , ran every day To all the Temples in the Town to pray : Fasting he went , and he was neatly drest , His hands were clean , and he had one request : Grant ye kind Gods , grant I may always live , It is an easie thing for Iou to give . Now he that sold him , might have safely sworn , He 's sound both Wind and Limb as e're was born . But cheated , if He swore him sound in Soul And This Man too the Stoicks count a Fool. The Mother whose dear Son had lain opprest , With violent Quartan half a year at least ; Gets up betimes , and prays Thou mighty Jove , That dost Diseases bring , and dost remove , If thou wilt stop the Fits , restore my Joy , And spare the Body of my lovely Boy , At thy next Solemn Fast , kind mighty God I vow , and I will make my promise good , I 'le set him naked in cold Tiber's Flood . And now let Chance or Physick's strength release , Or Doctor 's care suppress the strong Disease , The Frantic Mother will perform her vow , And her weak Son into cold Tiber throw ; And this brings a Relapse and kills the Lad , And hath not Superstition made her mad ? All this Stertinius taught me as a Friend , That Eighth Wise-man ; and I my self defend By his learn'd Rules ; none vexes me in vain , Who calls me mad , I call him mad again : And He shall learn what He doth seldom mind , To see what a Fools Coat he wears behind . 8. Well Stoick , may you sell at dearer rate Your Merchandize , and get your lost Estate ; So You ( for there are many sorts ) explain What kind of madness 't is that heats my Brain , For sure methinks I am a sober Man. Do'st think Agave when she grasp't the head Of her own Son , thought she her self was mad ? Well then I 'me mad , 't is true , but fain would know , Oblige me Stoick once , and freely show What kind of Madness I 'me addicted to . Then learn , tho you are dwarfish , thin , and small , You raise your self to be accounted tall : Yet laugh when Turbo in his Arms appears , Look how he struts , and what a Port he bears ! Tho He hath far a greater bulk than Thee , And therefore art thou not as vain as He ? What e're Mecaenas does , and is it true , That He is Rivall'd by Pedantick you ? When the old Frog was gone by chance abroad , An Ox came by and on her young ones trod : One scap't , and told her that a mighty Beast , Had trod upon her young , and kill'd the rest : How big said she ? As big as I am now : And swells , Yes , yes , as big again as You : What bigger still ? And then she swells again , Yes bigger , bigger , and you strive in vain ; You 'l never be as big , altho you swell Untill you burst ; This Image fits thee well : And thus to prove thee Frantic all conspire , Now add thy Poems , that is Oyl to Fire , Those prove thee mad , if nothing else were shown ; If any Poet 's sober , thou art One. Thy malice I conceal , but why do'st wear A finer Suit than thy Estate will bear ; Hold Damasippus ; I forbear to shew Thy burning Lust , The greater Mad-man You , Spare me at last the Lesser of the Two. SATYR IV. The Argument of the Fourth Satyr . He makes Catius tell him the several Precepts that are to be observ'd in making a Feast , by this means showing these , that pride themselves in this Art , to be very ridiculous . WHence Catius pray ? and whither ? Sir I vow I wish I had , but I han't leisure now To tell my rules , the best that e're were known , Better than what Pythagoras has shown , Or Plato taught ; but Sir I must be gone : I must confess 't was rude Impertinence To interrupt a busy Man of Sense At such a time , but pardon the offence : For , Sir , what ever 't is you have forgot , You 'l mind again , and soon recall the thought ; Whether 't was fixt on Nature , or on Art ; For You are deeply skill'd in either part : I was considering how I should retain What I have learn'd , it asks a subtle brain , A Man of deep contrivance , sense , and thought , So fine the Precepts , and so finely wrought . His name , a Stranger , or a Roman tell , I 'le sing the Precepts , but the Man conceal : Choose Long Eggs still , for those are hard and sound , Cock Eggs , more white and sweeter than the round : The Cale that grows on Hills , or barren Fields , Is better far than what the Garden yields : Moist ground e'en Odcomb Plants will quickly spoyl , They tastless grow and watrish as the soil . Suppose a Friend an unexpected Guest Comes late , and You have nothing ready drest , Drown Hens in Wine , I learn't this Art at Court , 'T will make the flesh eat wonderfully short . The Meadow Mushrooms are the safer food , Poys'nous the rest , at least not half so good ; I 'le give him health , that when his Meals are done Eats juicy Mulberrys pluckt before the Sun Doth rise too high , and scorch with heat of Noon : Aufidius , thus says Story , us'd to take His Mornings draught of Hony mixt with Sack , This was ill done , with Liquors only mild , E're breakfast Empty Veins are safely fill'd , What e're some fancy , I have Cause to think Smooth Mead in Morning is the better drink : When bound too much , sweet Mallows quickly clear Thy Gutts from stoppage , and thy Mind from fear ; Or Cockle Fish , or Sorrel newly ripe , With Coan white wine sawce will ease the gripe , Better than the old Midwife Glister-pipe : The Shell-fish with the growing Moons encrease , Yet different sorts are found in different Seas ; All have not good : the Lucrine Shells exceed Those various Purples that soft Baja breed , Oysters low Crice , some Misenian Coasts And Scollops large soft . Tarent loudly boasts : Let none pretend to have an Art in Feasts Till He 's exact , and Critical in Tasts : 'T is vain for him to buy the dearest Fish , That after knows not how to cook the dish , What must be stew'd , what boyl'd will grace a Feast , And what the Stomach of the glutted Guest ; Make him forget his Belly 's full , restore Lost Appetite , and tempt him on to more . Bores fed on Acorns , caught in Umbria's Wood ; Bend down his dishes with their weighty load , That would avoid dull , mean , or tastless food : For no wise Palates the Laurentans choose , Vile meat and fat with plashy reeds and Ouze : Goats bred on Vines , not always dainty fare , Wise Palates choose the Wings of breeding Hare : What Fish of all the sorts , what Birds are best , And at what Age , and how they should be drest , Before the World saw me were hardly known , All those are pure inventions of my own . Some spend their time , and hope to gain applause For minding nothing but new Cates , and Sawce , But Men of Art must still their Cares divide , Not mind one thing , and neglect all beside , Nor whilst they 're curious in their Wine and Ale , Ne're heed what Oyl they pour upon their Cale : If full of Lees , if thick your Massick Wine , Set it abroad by Night 't will make it fine ; Take off those Smells that hurt the Nerves , and wast The Spirits ; Hemp-seed spoyls its proper tast : Those cheating Rogues , that when the Wine decays , With their Surrentine mix Falernian Lees , This dasht Wine quickly cleanse with Pidgeous Eggs , Those falling down precipitate the Dregs : You have drunk briskly , and your friend decays ; Then give him pickled Hearings , those will raise And whet his Stomach for another glass . For Lettice after Wine 's not half so good , It swims on drink , and makes the Stomach crude : When He 's too full , then Gammon's only fit , Sawsage provokes him to another bit ; If these won't do , of it He scorns them both , He may be whetted with a dish of Broth : To know both sorts of Broth , 't is worth your while , The Simple is compos'd of sweetest Oyl , This Oyly Wine , and Caviare only asks Such as grows mellow in Byzantian Casks : To this shred Herbs , with Safforn mixt , and boyl , And when 't is cool then add Venafrian Oyl : Some Grapes are best in Pots , all ways are try'd , In smoak the Aban Grape is better dry'd : This Grape with some sharp Sawce , round Plates to strew , With Salt and Pepper , I 'me the first that knew , And told it others , as I tell it you . 'T is a grand fault to buy the dearest fish , And after crow'd them in too straight a dish : The Guests won't like to see one take the Cup , Who stole a Pidgeon , as He brought it up , With the same hand , for that will stain the place ; Nor yet to see old dust stick round the Glass : How little Beasoms cost ? how quickly bought ? Yet if not gotten , 't is a grievous Fault . Dost think it decent to neglect thy House , Or sweep the marble Floor with dirty boughs ? Dost think 't is handsom , for the Page to spread A dirty covering o're a Gawdy Bed , Forgetful still that since these things are mean , And such as All must have that would be clean , T is worse to want these , than such dainty meat Which only Luxury or Wealth can get : Learn'd Catius by the Gods I ask this boon , Where e're you go , Sir I must have it done , Pray bring me to this copious Spring of Truth , That I may heare it drop from his own mouth ; For though you talk , as if you understood His Precepts well , and knew the rules for Food , Yet from your Lips , I 'me sure they can't be known As well , as if I heard them from his own , Besides to see the Figure of the Man Would please me much , pray show me if you can , A sweet with which , blest you are almost cloy'd , And do not value , ' cause so oft enjoy'd ; But eager I to unknown Fountains press , To draw from thence the Rules of Happiness . SATYR V. The Heads of the Fifth Satyr . A Dialogue between Tiresias and Ulysses , where He instructs him , how to get an Estate . TIresias now indulge one favor more , And teach beside what thou hast taught before , How to regain my Wealth , now I 'me poor : Why do You smile ? Let me not beg in vain , Is 't not enough that you have scap't the Main , And safely come to Ithaca again ? Unerring Prophet , see as you fore-told , I am come home again , Grey , Wrinkled , Old , And Poor : my Wives Gallants have seiz'd my Gold : My Wealth is theirs , and what is Vertue worth Without a good Estate to set it forth ? Well then , since to be poor you fear and hate , In short learn how to get a good Estate . If thou dost light on any thing that 's rare , Send it thy old rich Neighbor , never spare , If He be rich and old , without an Heir : The first ripe Apples of thy choicest Tree Offer to him before thy Deity . The Rich Man must be reverenc't more than He. What tho He be a Villain , basely bred , Hath kill'd his Brother , or his Country fled : Yet wait upon him when he please to call , And when you meet him , cringe , and give the Wall. What would you have me cringe to every Slave ? At Troy I did not so my self behave : Contending always with the Great , the Brave : Then thou l't be poor . Well Sir , my mind I 'le force To suffer this : for I have suffer'd worse . But , prithee , tell me , for I wish to know Which way I may be rich , and quickly too : Then as I told , I 'le tell thee o're agen , Still strive to please , the old and wealthy Men. Try still to get into their Wills , secure Their Love , their Humors patiently endure ; Tho two or three discerning Eyes perceive The Hook , and fly the Bait , yet never leave : Others will bite when those sly Fops are gone , Still bait thy hook , and urge thy purpose on . If any Cause , or great or small be try'd , I 'le teach thee how to choose the better Side . Be sure to plead for him that 's childless , old , And rich , tho He is impudently bold , And sues his better , still pervert the Laws , And start new Quirks , and scorn the better Cause , And better Man , if He hath hopeful Boys To be his Hiers , or teeming Wife enjoys . Then Sir or Squire ( for Title hugely takes Grave softheads ) Me your Friend your Vertue makes , I know the Law , and have a ready Tongue , And rather , Sir , then you shall suffer wrong I 'le loose these Eyes ; My utmost Care be us'd That you be neither cheated nor abus'd . And you may take your pleasure , sit at ease , Ne're fear , I 'le pawn my Life for your success . Do you still mind this Cause , and that alone What ever weather 't is , or if , the Sun With Dog days beams cleaves e'en the marble Stone ; Or ( as fat Furius hath it ) all below Is Ice , and Jove o'respews the Alps with snow . Whilst one stands by , and jogs his Neighbor , see , How fine a Lawyer 's that , That , that is He , How useful to his Friends , and how He sweats , And Pleads ! This brings more Gudgeons to thy Nets . Besides , if any hath a sickly Hier And good Estate , then make thy Interest there , Lest courting childless Persons still , thy Arts appear . Creep gently in , untill your hopes you seize , Be second Heir , and rise by just degrees , And so if your young Boys disease prevails : Thou shalt have all : This method seldom fails . If any bids thee read his Will , deny ; Yet slyly with the corner of thy Eye Run quickly ore , the two or three first lines , ( There 's Reason for 't ) and see if He designs Thee the sole Hier , or else with many joyns . For time shall come , as years in order flow , When one a Scribe shall bob the gapeing Crow : What art thou mad , or dost design to see , If such abstruse discourse can puzle me ? Ulysses , what I sing shall be the state Of Things to come , I read the leaves of Fate , And distant Objects see in the event , Then prethee tell me , what that Riddle meant . When one , a Youth of Great Aenaeas Race , The Parthiane terror rules the Earth and Seas ; Coranus weary of a single Life , Takes chuff Nasica's stately maid to Wife ; Coranus then shall beg him to peruse The Will He makes , Nasica long refuse , At last consents , but what he reads , appears No Legacy to Him , and His , but Tears : Now if his Servants manage him ; commend , And make his greatest Favourite thy Friend , Besure be lavish in his praise , and then , When thou art gone , He 'l praise Thee o're again . This Method's good , but 't is the best design To storm the Man himself , and take him in . If He makes Verses tho extremely lewd , Admire , and swear his Fustian Rhymes are good , Or if He whores , besure his wish prevent , Let thy Penelope be freely sent : And dost thou think , that she the Wise , the Chast , Who all the numerous Woers Arts surpast , Will yield to him , and be a Whore at last ? Ay , those were artless Youths , they knew not how To treat , and rather came to eat then Woe ; So she was chast , but when she shall perceive , And share with Thee , the Presents He can give , Like Dogs once blooded , she will never leave . I 'le tell the true , and what I chanc't to know , A woman dy'd at Thebes not long ago ; And thus by Will She did injoyn her Heir , First oyl my Corps , and to the Sepulcher , Upon thy naked back my Body bear . This spake the Will , and this , as most believ'd , That she might then slip from him she contriv'd , For He was too observant whilst she liv'd : Do you be cautious still in your Address : Too often , or too seldom will displease , The grave Morose do hate a pratling Tongue , That speaks unask't , yet be not dumb too long : But , like arch Davus in the Play attend , Your neck awry , as fearful to offend : Still show the greatest Care that can be shown , More careful of his Life than of your own : When e're the Air is sharp besure to mind , And eagerly request him , pray be kind To your dear health , and me , nor trust the Wind. If throng'd , thrust Thou , and free him from the Throng , If talkative , endure his tedious Tongue : If he be vain , and loves his own dear praise , Be sure commend and high Encomiums raise , Still blow the Bladder never leave him off , Till He shall bless himself , and cry , enough : Now when he dyes , and frees thee from thy Care , Thy dreaming Hopes , and melancholly Fear , And broad awak't , you find that you are Heir : Then sigh , and is my dear Campanion gone ! Where shall I have so kind , so good a One ! If possible , your greatest Art imploy To shed some tears , 't is good to mask your joy : And if you are to make the Funeral , Be sure be noble , that will take with All : Or if thy fellow Heir 's a sickly Man , Then wheedle thus , and chouse him if you can : I want that ready Mony you can spare , And if you please , Sir you shall buy my share ; But hold fierce Pluto calls me back to Hell , And I can talk no more , good speed , farewell . SATYR VI. The Heads of the Sixth Satyr . ( 1. ) His moderate wishes . ( 2. ) The troubles of a City Life . ( 3. ) The Pleasures of the Country . ( 4. ) Little without fear , is best . 1. THese were my Prayers , and these my constant Vows , A pretty Seat , a Fountain near my House , A Garden , and a little Grove of Trees , 'T is well , the Gods have given more than these ; Enough kind Mercury , no more I crave , Only continue still , what now I have . If I am not profuse , and wast , or raise My moderat Fortune , by unlawful Ways . If I ne're wish , Oh that the Gods would yield , That Nook that spoyls the Figure of my Field : Or , oh that I a pot of Gold had found , As he who hir'd to Till anothers Ground , By the assistance of a lucky God Grew rich , and bought the very Land he plow'd . But if I live content , preserve my store , And be my Guard , as thou hast been before ; Defend my Cattle , and my Flocks , be kind , And fatten all I have , except my Mind : Then when I from the noisy Town retreat , And free from Bus'ness take my Country Seat : What shall I do but write , what Subject choose , But easy Satyr , and improve my Muse . Here no Ambition kills , no heavy Wind , Affects my Body and corrupts my Mind . To Fields the Gods long Life , and plenty gave , No sickly Autumns here inrich the Grave . 2. Old Father Janus ( thus the Gods decree ) We Men begin our Years and Toyl with Thee . With Thee my Verse , you hurry me to Town , To be a Witness , and I must be gone , Tho 't Snows , and Winter whirls the freezing day In shortest Circles , yet I must away . And then when my ungrateful task is done , Press thro the Crowd , and justle every One That doth not make me room , and thro 'em down , Whylst He that 's kick't , crys Plague ! and why so fast ? Pox ! What d' ye mean , and why in so much Hast ? When you run to my Lord , you scour the Street Press on , and kick and justle all you meet , And this I swear is pleasant , this is sweet ! But when I come a busy Crowd appears Of loud impertinent Petitioners , And their requests dance thick about my Ears , One begs that you would be at Court betime To morrow morning , and appear for him . The Scribes request , that I would get your Ear , About a public , new , and great Affair : Another crys , good Horace , get this Bill Sign'd by Mecoenas . If I can I will. But he seems discontent , and urges on , Nay , if you will , I 'me sure it may be done . 'T is eight Years since almost Mecoenas chose , And made me a Retainer to his House : Yet only such a One , as free from Care , He 'd sometimes take in 's Coach to take the Air , Talk common Talk , as how d' ye like the Play , The Fencers were well matcht , what news to day , The Morning 's cold , and we must have a Care , And such like common Things , as these appear , That may be trusted in a leaky Ear. Hence every day Men envy more my State , He at the Play with great Mecoenas sate , Or Bowl'd , cry all , He 's Fortunes darling Son , And thus the silly Chat runs o're the Town . Then all that meet me , come and ask the News , My Patience and my pretious Time abuse : Pray Sir ( For you so much at Court must know , ) D' ye hear what News from warlike Dacia ? No. Come , You 're a Wag. Pox take me if I do . Pray Sir , the Lands that Caesar vow'd to share , Amongst the Souldiers to reward the War , What must they be in Sicily or here ? When I profess my Ignorance , Morose They all imagine me , and plaguy close ; And thus I loose my days , but wish repeat , 3. Oh! When shall I enjoy my Country Seat ? Oh! when remov'd from noise to quiet Peace , Amidst my learned Books , my sleep and ease ; Whilst hours do smoothly flow and free from strife , Forget the Troubles of a busy Life ? Oh Beans Pythagoras his nearest kin , You lovely Herbs , and most delicious Chine When shall I see , when feed on you agen ? Oh sweet , Oh heavenly Feasts , where I and mine , Before my houshold Gods securely dine ; When I my self shall tast a dish of meat , Then give 't my wanton Slaves , and bid 'em eat : When all my Guests drink freely what they please , No Glass is mark't or fill'd , but more or less , As mirth invites ; No drunken Laws to force , And all the time is full of good discourse , We talk of no Mans Farms , or Wealth , or Skill , Or whether Caesar's Fool danc't well or ill . But we discourse , of what we ought to do , And what 't is fault and folly not to know ; As whether Wealth or Vertue brings a Man To happiness , or whether Leagues began From Interest or Right , what cheats the Crowd , And what is good , and what the greatest Good : 4. My Neighbor Gerrius , as the Matter falls , Mixes his merry , pat , instructive Tales : And thus for Instance , when by chance he hears Old Alpius wealth admir'd , tho full of Cares , He tells this Story . Once upon a Time , ( As Tales begin ) and in a moderate clime : A Country Mouse a City entertain'd , His old Acquaintance , and his special Friend , This Mouse was thrifty , yet would kindly Feast When time requir'd , and nobly treat his Guest : In short , now striving every way to please , He freely brought his hoarded Oats and Pease , His nibbled Bacon in his mouth he brings , His Apples and a thousand pretty things , His Nuts , his Grapes well-dry'd , and try'd his best , By choice variety to please his Guest . Who sate , and as affraid to hurt his mouth , Did nibble here and there with dainty Tooth : Whilst he lys by in straw , and Barley eats , Or Chaff ; and leaves his Guest the better Meats . At last the City Mouse , begins ; My Friend Pray how can You delight , how love to spend A Life in Woods , and this unwholsome Cave ? 'T is Melancholy , 't is so like a Grave . Now would you rather live in Town than here , And Mens converse , before the Woods prefer ; Come , go with me , I 'le get thee better Chear . Since all must dye , and must resign their Breath , Nor great , nor little is secure from Death ; Then spend thy days in Pleasure , Mirth and Sport. And live like One , that Minds his Life is short . These Words prevail'd upon the Country Mouse , So she grows jocand strait , and leaves the House , Longing for those fine things ; fō both go on , Eager whilst now 't was Night to reach the Town . 'T was Midnight full ; when now the Mice are com● They take a Rich Mans house , a stately Room , Where Purple Covering shone on Ivory Seats , And in the Pantry lay whole heaps of Meats , The sumptuous Relics of his noble treats . The City Mouse strait seats his country Guest On Cloath of State , and waits , and carves the Feast Course after Course , a thousand dainty Things , And like a Servant , tasts what e're he brings . The Country Mouse pleas'd with his Bed of State , And various dainties , blest his change of Fate . Feeds heartily , when lo the Servants come , And Dogs rush in and bark about the Room . Both start , both leave their Beds with eager hast , Both fly for Life , and hardly ' scape at last . Then says the Country Mouse , false Joys farewel , I do not like this Life , my quiet Cell Is better , I can feast and wanton there , On Chaff or Acorns , free from Noise and Fear . SATYR VII . The Heads of the Seventh Satyr . ( 1. ) A Servant instructs his Master , about his unsettledness in humour . ( 2. ) His Lust . ( 3. ) The vicious Man , the greatest Slave . 1. WEll Sir , I hear , and have some News to tell But I 'me affraid , you will not like it well From me your Slave : Who Davus is it you ? Davus the faithful Servant and the true , Davus that fancys that sufficient store , Which nature wants supplies , and ask no more ; Go to , and as our Ancient Laws decree , Use boldly thy December 's Liberty , Speak fairly what thou wilt , thou mayst be free . Some Men are constant in their Vice , and run The same Course still , and urge their purpose on : Some are unsteddy , various in a Trice , Now all for Vertue , and now all for Vice. Fop Priscus with himself doth disagree , Sometimes he wears no Rings , and sometimes three . He changes every hour his Cloaths and Gown , Now takes the best House , now the worst in Town , And there he goes as nasty as a Clown . Now studies hard at Athens , now does come , And turns a great Gallant , and whores at Rome , The most unsteddy , fickle Man on Earth , As if Vertumnus self had rul'd his Birth . Just opposite to him Vulturius stands , For he when the just Gout had lam'd his hands , Did hire a Boy , so much he lov'd the Vice , To take up for him , and to throw the Dice . He that is constant in his vicious race , Runs the same Course , and keeps an equal pace ; Is certainly not half so great a wretch , As He that now rides loose , and now on stretch . Well now you Rogue , suppose this railing true , What doth it mean ? Sir it reflects on you . How so you Rascal ? Sir you use to praise The Antients living , and commend their ways , Yet if some God would give you leave to choose , Or force you to the like , you would refuse . ' Cause you don't think that right you now commend , Or else are too unsteddy to defend , What once you thought ; you stick , and strive in vain From this deep mire to free your foot again : At Rome , Oh how you praise the country Air ! And fickly Rome commend , when you are here : If uninvited , Oh what dainty fare Your little Sallat yields , and free from Care ; These troublesome Lords at Rome invite me still , I go 't is true , but 't is against my will. And happy , happy me you use to say , That I have leave to Sup at home to day ; But if my Lord Mecoenas doth invite , Tho you are not to go before 't is Night ; Yet eager you by peep of day prepare , The house straight rings , So ho , Jack , Tom , whose there ? Who brings me Oyl , you Dogs , does no one hear ? My Lords waits for me ; then in hast you run , Whilst thy Retainers curse , when thou art gone : Well then , I grant a Feast 's , a powerful Charm , Oh the resistless force of Meat that 's warm , It leads me captive , and my Sense does seize , I 'me Glutton , Tospot , and what e're you please : So you but freely grant your Vice at least , As bad , altho in softer Terms 't is drest ; Suppose I 'me not so wise , as thee my Slave , Then cease to look so haughty and so brave , And do not rage , and do not break my head , Whilst I discourse what Crispin's Porter said : 2. You love Mens Wives , and I , my little Whores , Which is the greatest Fault now , mine or yours ? When Nature Fires , and they have quencht my flame ▪ I 'me satisfi'd , nor do I loose my Fame , Nor fear that they will Jilt , and entertain A wittier , richer , and a finer Man. But when you slily sneak abroad by night , Your Rings and all the Habit of a Knight , Thy Roman Garb thrown off ; from nobly brave You sink into the Figure of a Slave : A nasty Vail thrown o're thy fragrant Head , And softly brought to the Adulterous Bed , Are you not such a One as you appear ? When introduc't you shake and tremble there , Thy raging Lust disputing with thy Fear : What difference is it whether you engage To fight for hire , and bear the Victor's rage , Be cut and slash't and kill'd upon the Stage ? Or by the Conscious Chamber-Maid be prest Quite double , neck and heels into a Chest ? Hath not the injur'd Husband of the Whore To punish both a right and Lawful Power ? And will not all his fiercest rage be just On thee , that didst debauch her to thy Lust ? Yet she ne're changes Garb , nor shifts her place , Nor takes such pains to get the foul embrace ; Nor injures Heaven , nor swears such Oaths as you , Whilst the fond Creature doubts you 'l prove untrue . But wise you venture Slaves severest Fate , And to a Man enrag'd , and swoln with hate , Commit thy Fame , thy Life , and thy Estate . Hast thou escap't ? I hope the warning's fair , And you 'l prevent the like with greatest care , What nothing do ? What dost Thou strive to run , The same mad Course , and be once more undone ? 3. Oh! Slave so oft ! What Beast that breaks the Chain , Once free , will come and take the Clog again ? You say you 'r no Adulterer , nor I A Thief , because when some Observer's nigh , I leave your Plate , though with a longing Eye . Remove the danger and restraining force , And Nature loose will run an evil Course . Are you my Master ? you that do appear , A worse and greater Slave than me by far , Whom nothing can redeem from wretched fear ? Three stroaks of th' Praetor's Rod can make me free , Whilst Tyrant Passion still will Master Thee . Besides , If He 's a Vicar , as you please to phrase , ( This Reason's good ) that other Slaves obeys , Or fellow Slave ; Sir , I would gladly know What 't is that I am in respect of you ? For you , my Master , others basely serve , Like Puppets moving by anothers Nerve . Who then is free ? The Wise , that can controle , And Govern all the Passions of the Soul : Whom Poverty , nor Chains , no Death affright , And proof against the Charms of vain delight . Whom feeble Fortune strives in vain to wound , So closely gather'd in a perfect Round , And so exactly smooth'd by honest Arts , That nought without can stick upon the even Parts . Observe this Free-man's Character , and see If any part of it belongs to Thee : A Thousand Pound beg'd by thy costly Whore , And if deny'd , she turns thee out of Door , Throws Water in thy Face , then change her mind , And call thee back , and vow she will be kind . Now loose your Neck from this Ignoble Chain , And boldly say that you are free ; in vain , You can't , for Tyrant Lords thy Will controle , They prick thee on , and scourge thy wav'ring Soul. You , when you spend whole hours and trifle days , Whilst You upon a piece of Painting gaze : Why do not you commit as great a fault , As I that stare upon a meaner draught ? Admire how Janus and how Fulvius stand , In Fencing Postures , drawn by a rude hand , In Chalk or Char-coal Paint , and there they look As if they fought , and mov'd to shun the stroak : But I 'me call'd lazy Rogue , and beaten still , A Judge in Painting You , and Man of skill . If I but trivial Cakes delight to Eat , 'T is Gluttony , whilst your Luxurious Treat Is Vertue , for it shows your Mind is great . Why now to serve my Palate should it be , ( For I am whipt ) a greater Crime in Me , Than You ? Since thine 's more costly Luxury , Why then are you not scourg'd as well as I ? Because , perhaps , thy Feasts corrupt thy Blood , Diseases spring from thy Luxurious Food , And weakned Legs refuse the sickly Load . Doth that Boy sin that steals a Comb by night , To buy some Grapes to please his Appetite ? And is He faultless that when Lust Commands , To please his lavish Belly sells his Lands ? Besides all this , You with your self can't stay One Hour , nor rightly spend a leasure day , You like a Vagrant shun your self , design , Now by forgetful sleep , and now by Wine , To steal from Cares : Poor Slave ! In vain you try , Black Care pursues as fast as you can fly . Death ! Where 's my Stick ? Why so ? Death ! Where 's my Sword ? He 's mad , or else makes Verses : Dog , one word , One tittle more ! You censure my Designs ? Fly Rascal , fly , or thou shalt to the Mines . SATYR VIII . The Argument of the Eighth Satyr . A Description of a sordid Feast , with which one Fuscus Nasidenus Entertain'd them . HOw do you like rich Nasidenus cheer ? For when I thought last night to have you here , 'T was said , that e're since Noon you had been there . Troth never merrier ; Pray Sir grant my wish , And , if no trouble , what was the first Dish ? " The first Dish , Sir , was a Lucanian Bore , " Caught whilst the Wind was South , the Master swore , And round the brim lay Lettice to excite , And Betes to raise the lazy Appetite ; Anchove , Pickled-Herrings , mixt with these Lay Raddish , bitter Herbs , and Coan Lees. This Dish remov'd , two ready Servants come , One clean'd the Table , t'other swept the Room , And gather'd up the Relicts of the Feast , The Bones , and all that might offend the Guest : Just as at Ceres Feast th' Athenian Maid , Comes black Hydaspes bearing on his Head Large Falks of White , and Alcon Flasks of Red. Then says mine Host ; My Lord , if more than these You like another , call for what you please , My Cellar 's stor'd ; Poor Wealth , dishonest Pride , But prethee tell me who was there beside ? Sir , I sate first , and , stay , I think 't was so , Turinus next , Vibidius sate below , Next Balatro ; below him Porcius lyes , Porcius the merry'st archest Wag that is , To swoop whole Custards , and to swallow Pies . All uninvited , but as Lords are wont , Mecoenas brought them all on his account . Next above these Nomentan takes his place , He that could point at every hidden Sawce ; For we , the rest , on Fish and Fowl did feast , Concealing different from their proper tast . This streight appear'd , when by his luscious rules He carv'd for me th' untasted guts of Soles . And after to instruct me , gravely said , Figs pluck't before the Moon is full , look red ; But thro this difference would you nicely pry He 'l tell you more , He 's more expert than I. Mean while Vibidius in a jeering tone Crys ; Balatro , come prethee nothings done , Unless we drink him dry ; a Bigger Glass ; At that Death-pale spread o're our Fuscus face , For good stout drinkers He did chiefly fear , ' Cause such , when full , with greater freedom jeer ; Or ' cause hot Liquors pall the subtle tast , And so would spoyl the goodness of his feast : Yet on it goes , the Bowls are freely crown'd , And supernaculum the health goes round : The chiefest Guests the while few bumpers tost , They spar'd the Bottles , and the bleeding Host . Now comes midst swimming Shrimps a Lampry spread In a large Dish , and thus the Master said ; This Fish was caught when full of Spawn , ( that Course Is good ) for after Spawning's done , 't is worse : The Broth is made of Oyl , the best that flow'd From the Venafrian Press ; to make it good , Wine five years old , and Caviare I joyn , In boyling , Sirs , I use Italian wine , But when 't is boyl'd , with Pepper spic'd and drest With Vinegar , the Chain Pickle's best : To boyl green Rockets , with 't was never known Before my time , I 'me sure that Art 's my own . Salt water Crawfish first Cotillus stew'd , And kept them whole , for they are better food Then when i th' Shell , the Pickle makes them good . But whilst he talkt , and whilst He prais'd the Fish The Hangings tumbling down fell o're the Dish : Bringing black dust , as much , as Whirlwinds raise When nimble Storms sweep o're the dusty ways : We started all , and thought it worse than 't was , But when no harm appear'd , each kept his place : Our Host streight hung his head , He wept and sigh'd As if his darling Son had lately dy'd ; He had wept on , his Grief have known no end , But wise Nomentan thus reliev'd his Friend ; Unlucky Chance what God is so unkind , Thou lov'st to break the measures Man design'd ; Some bit their Napkins , yet could scarce forbear To laugh aloud , whilst with a bitter Sneer Crys jeering Balatro , Well , we strive in vain , 'T is the sad fate of Life , and none can gain By Labour , Fame that answers to their Pain . That ever I should prove so troublesome For one fine Treat , when I could dine at home ? That I should vex you to provide a Feast , To see your Broth well boyl'd , your Servants drest , Besides th' unlucky chance that waits on all , As if , as but just now , the Hangings fall ; The Footboy stumbling spoyl a costly fish , Or Plowman Servant trip and break the dish . But as in Captains oft ill chance reveals The Entertainers Wit , which good conceals ; Then says mine Host , Ah , may'st Thou still be blest , Thou art so good a Man , so kind a Guest : And calls for 's Shoes ; then you may quickly hear Divided whispers spread thro every Ear. No Play could ever please me half so well , But what you laught at after prethee tell : Whilst hot Vibidius with a waggish look Crys to the Servants , is the Bottle broak That I can get no Wine to this dry Feast ; And merry Balatro promotes the jest ; Mine Host comes in , and with a smiling face , About to mend by Art his late disgrace , His Servants following brought a Charger fill'd With one poor little Crane cut up and grill'd , Cover'd with Salt and Meal ; another brings Pluck't off and by themselves a Rabbets wings , For those , forfooth , when by themselves are best , And sweeter far than eaten with the rest : Then roasted Blackbirds Doves their rumps cut off , All pretty sorts of Meat , and sweet enough ; But he with long harangues to every guest Explain'd their Natures , how and why 't was drest ; Whom thus we punish'd , each Man left his seat , We fled the Banquet , and refus'd to eat ; As if the Witch Canidia's poysnous breath Had blown upon 't , and fill'd the Feast with Death . The End of the Second Book of Satyrs . EPISTLES . BOOK I. The Heads of the first Epistle . ( 1. ) He shews his desire for Philosophy . ( 2. ) 'T is to be preferr'd before all . ( 3. ) The People prefer Gold before Vertue . ( 4. ) Why He cannot agree with the Crowd . MY Lord Mecaenas whom I gladly choose , The first , and the last labour of my Muse ; Tho I have fought enough , and well before , And now dismist , have leave to fight no more : You strive to bring me on the Stage again ; My Age is not alike , unlike my Brain , Unlike my Mind , and now I write in Pain : The Fencer Vejan now grown weak with Age , Lives quietly at home , and leaves the Stage ; His Arms in great Alcides Temple plac't , Lest after all his former Glorys past , He worsted , meanly beg his life at last : And still methinks sounds thro my well purg'd Ear , A little voice , Fond Horace have a Care , And whilst 't is well release thy aged Horse , Lest when He runs but with unequal force , And stretches hard to win , He breaks his Wind , Derided , distanc't , basely lags behind : 1. And therefore all my trifling Songs adieu , I now design to seek what 's good and true , And that alone ; I scorn my wanton Muse , And lay up Precepts , such as I may use ; But if you ask me now what Sect I own , I swear a blind obedience unto none : But as the Tempest drives me so I Steer , This way or that , not setled any where : Sometimes an Active Life my Fancy draws , A strict observer of true Vertue 's Laws : Then gently slide to Aristippus School , And strive not to be rul'd by Things , but Rule : As Night to those their Mistress fails appears , As Days to Labourers , and as long the Years , When Jealous Mothers curb , to eager Heirs : So dull , and so ingrate my Time doth flow , Which hinders what I hope and wish to do : What done will profit Rich and Poor , what long Forborn , prove equal harm to Old and Young : Well , then I must content my self with this , Yours cannot be as good as Lynceus Eyes , What then , when Sore must I fit Cures despise ? You cannot Hope to have your Limbs as great As Glyco's , nor so strong and firmly set , Yet to prevent the Gout hast Thou no care ? What , if of farther progress you despair , 'T is somewhat surely to have gone thus far : Doth creeping Avarice thy mind engage ? Or doth it boyl with fiery Lust , and rage ? Why , there are Rules and Precepts that can Ease Thy Pain , and Cure great part of thy Disease : Or art Thou Vain ? Books yield a certain Spell , To stop thy Tumor ; You shall cease to swell , When you have read them thrice , and studied well : The Rash , the Lazy , Lover , none 's so wild , But may be tame , and may be wisely mild , If they consult true Vertue 's Rules with care , And lend to good advice a patient ear . 2. 'T is Vertue , Sir , to be but free from Vice , And the first step tow'rds being truly Wise Is to want folly ; You use all your skill , To shun what you suppose the greatest ill , A small Estate , or whilst you seek to gain An Office , a Repulse ; You spare no pain , You try your utmost Wit , and rack your Brain : You Sail to India , You forsake your ease , Thro raging Storms , thro Rocks and boisterous Seas , Thro Heat and Cold , and gather every Wind , To get more Wealth , and leave pale Want behind ; And yet thou wilt not take the pains to hear A wiser Man advise Thee how to Steer : Who kindly bids Thee check thy wild desire , And leave what Thou dost foolishly admire : What Wrestler that shall strive in every Town , At every Wake will scorn th' Olympian Crown ? Who doth not cheap and easie wreaths disdain ? And who would have a Crown without the Pain 3. The saying's true , and hath been often told , Silver 's more base than Gold , than Vertue Gold : O Romans , Romans , Gold must first be sought , Then Vertue , that 's worth but a second thought : This is the Tune of every Trading Fool , Old Men , and every Boy repeats this Rule , That with his Books and Satchel goes to School : If you have not Ten Thousand Pound in store , But want a Thousand or a little more , Tho you have Vertue , Constancy , and skill In Arts , thou shalt be thought a Common still : And yet our Boys another Tale will tell , And say , You shall be King if you do well ; Be this thy Guard , and this thy strong defence , A vertuous Heart , and unstain'd Innocence ; Not to be conscious of a shameful sin : Nor yet look pale for Scarlet Crimes within . Now prethee tell me which you think is best , Or Otho's Law , or this by Boys exprest , This Song which makes the Vertuous Man a King And which the Noble Ancients us'd to sing ? Which best adviseth , He that bids thee hate Thy Common rank , and get a vast Estate , Justly , if canst ; if not , at any rate ; Only that at a Play or Puppet Show , You may sit nearer by a Seat or two ? Or He that bids Thee Steer a Vertuous Course , And nobly scorn , proud feeble Fortune's force ? 4. Should the Crowd ask , why since I live in Town , Walk the same Streets with them , I do not own The same Opinion ? Why I don't approve , And hate the Things that they do hate and love ? My Answer must be what sly Reynard said To the old sickly Lion , I 'me afraid , Great King of Beasts , for all the treads I see Are to thy Den , none back , that frightens me : Thou art a Many-headed Monster , Rome , I know not what to imitate , or whom : Some love to Farm Revenues , others Bait With Gifts to catch a Widdows great Estate : Whilst others spread their Nets for wealthy Fools , And catch them , and secure the doating Shoals : Some by base Usury their Wealth increase : But grant that various Humors various please : Yet are They constant still , do they approve For one hours time together what They love ? For instance , If the wealthy Wanton says , This little Baiae is the pleasant'st place ; His hasty wishes no delays afford , And the Sea quickly sees her loving Lord : There if his fancy leads another way , As if a Sign from Heaven He must obey ; Come Work-men gather up your Tools , and drive To morrow to Theanum , there I 'le live : Doth He design to day to take a Wife ? No life , He cries , is like a single life : If not , He Swears the marry'd only blest ; What Chain can hold this varying Proteus fast ? What doth the Poor Man ? Laugh , he shifts his home , His Baths , His Barbers , and his eating Room , Or hires a paltry Sculler for a Groat , And spews like Nobles in their Pleasure-Boat : Suppose some blundering Barbers notch my hair And then I meet you , streight you smile and stare Or if my Gown is botch't , my Vest unfit , My Cloaths ill made , You laugh at such a sight : What when my Mind is with it self at strife , And disagrees in all the Course of Life ; When what it hated now , it now desires , What now it threw away , it now admires , Unsettled as the Sea , or flitting Air , It razes , builds , and changes round to square ; You count me mad in Fashion , you forbear To laugh , nor think I need a Doctor 's care ; Or Guardian from the Praetor , tho my Friend , On whom my Fortunes , and my Life depend , Who grieves if I but cut my Finger's end . In short , the Wise Man's less than Jove alone , For all is His , and He himself 's his own ; Rich , King of Kings , and of a Noble Stem , But chiefly well , unless when vex't with Flegm . EPISTLE II. The Heads of the Second Epistle . ( 1. ) He commends Homer to his Friend Lollius . ( 2. ) Delivers several Praecepts for a good Life . 1. WHilst you to plead at Rome , my Friend , remain , I here have read my Homer o're again : Who hath what 's base , what decent , just and good , Clearer than Crantor or Chrysippus show'd : My reasons for 't , if you have leisure , hear ; That Part that tells us how in tedious War , For Paris Lust , Greece strove with Phrygia , sings The Passions of the Crowd , and foolish Kings : Antenor thinks it best to end the Wars , And give back Helen ; wanton Paris Swears , He can't be happy if He lives alone , His Kingdom can't content when she is gone : Atrides and Achilles chide , and hate , And Nestor strives to cool the hot debate : One rob'd of what He eagerly desir'd , Was rais'd by Love ; but both by fury fir'd : He counsels both , and strives to make them Friends , The People suffer when the Prince offends : By Lust and Rage were thousand mischiefs done , By Pride and Treachery , in Camp and Town : And then what Courage , and what Wit can do , He usefully doth in Ulysses show ; Who , Troy o'rethrown , to many Countrys went , And strictly view'd their Towns and Government And whilst thro raging Seas He ventur'd home , Met thousand dangers , and did ovecome : Still careful of his Men He did advance , And safely stem'd the Waves of dang'rous Chance : The Sirens Songs , and Circe's Bowl you know , Which like his Mates had He but tasted too , Base and unthinking He had serv'd the Whore , In shape of nasty Dog , or mi'ry Bore : We are the Number , born to drink and eat , The Woers of Penelope , the spruce , the neat , The lazy Rascals ; and whose whole design , Was to get vicious pleasure , and be fine : Who thought it vertuous to sleep half the Day , And lull their Cares with Musick , Dance and Play. 2. Rogues rise before 't is light to kill and Thieve , Wilt Thou not wake to save thy self alive ? If now , when well , you will not leave your Ease , In vain you 'l try when prest with a Disease : And when you cannot sleep , except you read , And in good things employ your watchful head , Pale Treacherous Sins will swift approaches make , And Lust or Envy vex Thee whilst awake : For why , when any thing offends thy Eyes , Dost thou streight seek for ease , and streight advise Yet if it shall oppress thy Mind , endure The ills with Patience , and defer the Cure ? He that hath once begun a good design , Hath finish't half ; dare to be wise , begin : He that deferrs to live is like the Clown , Who waits , expecting till the River 's gone : But that still rouls its Streams , and will roul on . We seek for Wealth , a good and fruitful Wife , The pleasures , comforts , and supports of Life ; Our Woods are tam'd , and plough'd encrease our store ; He that hath got enough desires no more : Did ever Lands , or heaps of Silver ease The feav'rish Lord ? Or cool the hot Disease ? Or free his Mind from Cares , He must have health , He must be well , that would enjoy his wealth . He that desires or fears , diseas'd in mind , Wealth profits him as Pictures do the blind ; Plaisters the Gouty Feet ; and charming Airs And sweetest sounds the stuft and troubled Ears : The musty Vessels sour what they contain ; Scorn Pleasure , Pleasure hurts that 's bought with pain . The Greedy want , to Wishes fix an End ; The Envious pine at th' fatness of their Friend . The fiercest Tyrants never yet could find , A greater rack than Envy to the mind : The Man that doth too hastily engage , That is all fire , and cannot curb his rage , Baffles his own design , whilst weaker grown , With malice unreveng'd He strikes too soon : Anger 's a short frenzy , curb thy Soul , And check thy rage , which must be rul'd or rule : Use all thy Art , with all thy force restrain , And take the strongest Bitt , and firmest Rein : The Jocky trains the young and tender Horse , Whilst yet soft mouth'd He breeds him to the Course : The Whelp since when i' th' Hall He learn'd to bark At Bucks-skins stuff'd , now ranges o're the Park : Now , now , whilst young , with vertuous Rules begin ; Such holy Precepts now , and free from sin . What season'd first the Vessel keeps the Tast ; Now if you lag behind , or run too fast , I stay not for the slow , I mind my Race , Nor press on those that run a swifter pace . EPISTLE III. To his Friend Julius Florus . A familiar Epistle enquiring about several matters . MY Julius Florus , I would gladly hear , Where Claudius Caesar's kinsman kindles War ; Doth Thrace or Hebrus bound in Chains of Snow , Or doth the Hellespont , I wish to know , Or Asia's fruitful Fields detain you now ? What do the Wits design ? Who nobly dares , ( This I would know ) to write great Caesar's Wars : And who inspir'd with an unusual rage , Shall spread his Fights and Leagues thro future Age. And what doth Titius , He of growing Fame , Who doth not fear to drink of Pindar's Stream ? Who scorns known Springs and Lakes , that glorious He , And is He well , and doth He think of Me ? Doth He , the Muse propitious , nobly sing , And fit to Roman Harps the Theban string ? Or is he writing Plays , and treads the Stage , In murd'ring Verse , and swells with Tragick rage ? And how doth Celsus do ? Whom I still warn , as I have often done , To get some Stock , some riches of his own : And not from others labours kept for fame , In wise Apollo's Temple steal a name : Lest all the Birds should come , and claim their own , And th'Chough be his , when her stoln Plumes are gone . What do you do ? What will your Mind produce ? From what sweet Beds of Thyme suck pretious juice ? For you have Wit enough , your sence is great , And not deform'dly rough , but fine and neat , Whether with poynant Tongue you plead a Cause , Defend the Innocent , and teach the Laws : Or choose soft Numbers , and smooth Poetry , The chiefest Crown still justly waits on Thee . If You could leave those Cares that num thy Mind , Shake off thy fears , and leave the Clog behind , Then you would live as Wisdom's rules advise : This is the Work , the noble Study this , This rich and poor , should make their greatest care , If we would live secure , and free from fear , To honest Men , and to our Country dear . Pray write me whether , for I wish to know , You love Numenius , as you ought to do . Or if the former difference clos'd in vain , Was never fully cur'd , but breaks again . But you in whatsoever part you live , Whether 't is heat or rashness makes you strive , Both brave and hot , and , Oh! too dear , to prove How frail are all the bands of Brothers love : Where e're you now reside , return to Rome , I feed a Steer to offer when you come . EPISTLE IV. A familiar complement to his Friend Albius Tibullus . ALbus , the fairest Critic that I know , What shall I say that you are doing now ? In Pedan fields do you design to write , More great than Cassius , and with higher flight ? Or dost thou gravely walk the healthy Wood , Considering what befits the Wise and Good ? For You are not all Body , void of Mind , The Gods have given a Soul of Noble kind ; And Wealth and Skill enough to use thy Store : What could a Nurse for her dear Child wish more ? Than that He might be Sober whilst He lives , And able to express what He conceives : Enjoy the Love of all , and Fame and Health , And cleanly Diet , with sufficient Wealth ? Whilst mid'st strong hopes and fears thy time doth wast , Think every rising Sun will be thy last ; And so the grateful unexpected Hour Of Life prolong'd , when come , will please the more : Then come and see me , now grown plump and fine , When you would laugh at one of Epicurus Swine . EPISTLE V. To his Friend Torquatus . He invites his Friend to a small Collation . IF you can sit upon a paultry Seat , My Friend Torquatus , and endure to Eat A homely Dish , a Sallad all the Treat : Sir , I shall make a Feast , my Friends invite , And beg that you would Sup with me to Night . My Liquor flow'd from the Minturnian Vine , In Taurus Consulship , 't is Common Wine ; If you have better , let the Flasks be sent ; Or let what I , the Lord , provide content : My Servants sweep and furnish every Room , My Dishes all are cleans'd against you come : Forbear thy wanton hopes , and Toyl for gain , And Moschus Cause ; 't is all but idle Pain : To morrow Caesar's Birth-day comes , to give Release to Cares , and a small time to live . Then we may sleep till Noon , and gay delight , And merry talk prolong the Summer's Night . What is my Wealth , if I must always spare ? He that lives Poor , to leave a Wealthy Heir Is near a-kin to mad . I 'le drink and play , Enjoy my self , and fling my Gold away . I 'le frolic ( let the sparing be thought wise ) Content to be esteem'd a fool for this : What cannot drunkenness effect , 't is free of Secrets , and turns hope to certainty ; It pushes on the unarm'd Man to Wars , It frees the troubled mind from weighty Cares : It teaches Arts , it teaches how to think , And what Man is not Eloquent in 's Drink ? And who tho cramp't in narrow want's not free ? Now I 'le provide ( pray leave that task to me ) I 'me willing , and I 'me fit for such a Care ) Your Seats shall be as clean as any are ; Your Napkins good , no spot shall foul the Cloth , Whose sight might make you snuff your Nose , and loath . The Cups well scour'd , the modest Table grace , The dishes shine that you may see your face . None shall be there that shall have treacherous Ears , And carry o're our Threshold what he hears : And that thy Boon Companions may be fit , Septimius too , and Brutus I 'le invite : And if no dearer Miss , or better Feast , Holds Sabin , He shall make another Guest : I 've Room enough , and each may bring his Friends , But sweat at Tables too much throng'd offends : Pray send me word what time you will be here , How many Friends you 'l bring ; forget thy Care , And whilst thy Clients throng about thy Hall , Creep forth thro the Back-door , and bob 'em All. EPISTLE VI. To his Friend Numicus , where he shows the method to gain true happiness . NOt to admire , as most are wont to do , It is the only method that I know , To make Men happy , and to keep 'em so . Some view this glittering Sun , and glorious Stars , And all the various Seasons free from fears ; Well then , those Gifts of Earth the Gums and Gold , Which sweet Arabia , and the Indies hold , Applause and Office , that mistaken good , That great Preferment of the Roman Crowd ; When these are view'd with all their gawdy show , How calm should be our Thoughts , how smooth our Brow ! Now those that fear their Opposites , admire These Toys , as much as He that doth desire ; For both sides fear lest Things their Hopes deceive , And both at sudden disappointments grieve . Whether one joy or grieve , or hate or love , Or strive to shun , or eagerly approve , 'T is all alike if the Event appears , Or worse or better than He hopes or fears , He stands amaz'd with fix't and staring Eyes , His Limbs and Soul grow stiff at the surprise : The just will be unjust , wise void of Wit , That seek e'en Vertue more than what is fit : Now go , let Gold and Statues charm thine Eyes , Go , and admire thy Gems and Tyrian Dyes : Rejoyce that when you speak Men gape and wait ; Go to the Court betimes , and come home late ; Lest Mutius reap a greater Crop of Corn , For 't is unsit , since not so nobly born . Rather let him be wonder'd at by you , Than you by him , 't is better of the Two : Whatever's under Ground Age brings to light , And that will bury too , and hide the bright : When Appius way , and Grippa's Porch shall know , And see thee famous , Thou must walk below , As Numa , and as Ancus long ago . If vexing pains thy Sides , or Kidneys seize , Then seek some present Cure for thy Disease . Would'st thou live well ? Who not ? Then quickly strive , And now since Vertue only this can give , Then leave thy false delights , and that pursue : But if you think their wild Opinion true , ( As heedless Minds the vainest things approve ) That Words make Vertue just as Trees a Grove . Then follow Wealth , make that thy chiefest Care , See none forestall , and none ingross the Fair , Or bate the prizes of thy pretious Ware. Then get one Thousand Talents , then one more , And then Another , and then square the Store ; For by this Empress Wealth is all bestow'd , A rich and honest Wife , and every Good , As Beauty , Friends , and nobleness of Blood : The Rich and Monyed Man hath every grace , Perswasion in his Tongue , and Venus in his Face . The Cappadocian King is poor in Coin , Tho rich in Slaves , let not his way be Thine : Lucullus once desir'd to lend the Stage A Thousand Suits , says , How can I engage , So many Suits ? And yet I 'le quickly send , I 'le search my store , and see what I can lend : And streight writes word , I have five thousand good , And they might take as many as They wou'd . That 's an unfurnisht House , that Master poor , Which hath Things necessary , and no more , And whose Superfluous plenty not deceives , And scapes the Master's Eye , and profits Thieves . If Wealth can make Thee blest , and keep Thee so , Mind it the first , and the last Thing you do . If Offices , and all their gawdy Pride , Then buy a witty Slave to guard thy side ; To tell thee great Mens Names , and Nobles show , And warn Thee to bow Popularly low ; Sir , that 's a Lord , and this , Sir's such a One , He bears the greatest sway in all the Town : Unless you cringe and get his Voice , despair , His Vote disposes of the Consul 's Chair : Sir , as their Years require some Fathers call , Some Sons , and pleasantly adopt them all : If He lives well that eats well , come 't is light , Let 's go , led by our ruling Appetite . Let 's Fish and Hunt as Gargil us'd to do , Who every morning bad his Servants go , With Poles , and Nets , and Spears , and march along The well fill'd Market place , and busie throng . That One of many Mules might carry home , A Bore , that he had bought , thro gazing Rome . Let 's Bath e'en whilst the undigested load , Lyes crude , forgetting what is just and good : Fit to be wax't , Ulysses Mates outright , Who lov'd their Country less than base delight . If nothing , as Mimernus strives to prove , Can e're be pleasant without wanton Love ; Then live in wanton Love , thy Sport pursue , Let that employ thy pretious Time ; Adieu . If you know better Rules than these , be free , Impart them , but if not , use these with Me. EPISTLE VII . ( 1. ) He excuseth himself for not waiting on Mecaenas . ( 2. ) Commends his generosity . ( 3. ) His moderate desires . 1. IN five days time I promis'd You , My Lord , To be in Town — And yet all August past have broak my word ; But , Sir , if you design that I should live , Whilst now I fear I shall be sickly , give That pardon to me which you would allow , Suppose , My Lord , I were already so : Whilst Autumn burns , and Dog-stars beams do rage , Whilst all Diseases that attend on Age Are waiting now upon the Aged year , Whilst frequent Mourners in sad Pomp appear , And careful Parents for their Children fear . When each Officious Visit surely kills , It raiseth Feavers and unseals our Wills ; If Winter's sharp , and spreads the fields with Snows Down to the warm Sea side thy Poet goes , There study little , and take soft repose . And then when Spring returns , and Swallows come , I 'le see you , if you please , My Lord , at Rome : 2. Your kindness makes me rich , unlike to theirs Who thus invite their Guests to Eat their Pears . Come , pray Sir eat : Sir I 'me content with these ; Then pray , Sir , take as many as you please : Your little Boys will eat them tho but small , Thanks , Sir , as much as if I took them All : Then pray , Sir , take them , yet as you think fit , But all the Pears you leave my Hogs must eat : Fools only give what they do scorn and hate , This Seed still hath , and still will bear ingrate : But when the Wife Men and the good bestow , Tho They true worth , from bare pretences know , They tell you , you deserv'd it long ago . If you would have me still attend you train , Restore my Vigour and my Youth again : My curl'd black Locks spread o're my narrow face , Restore my merry talk , and smiling grace ; And make me fit again for Loves design , And t'mourn coy Cynera o're a glass of Wine . A hungry Fox when pincht for want of Meat Crept thro a little hole to heaps of Wheat , And there well fill'd he would return again Thro the same chink ; He strove , but strove in vain : 3. When lo the Weesel cry'd , absur'd design , Fox , you were thin and lean when you got in , And if you would get out be quite as thin . Is this apply'd to me ? I now restore The Gifts that came from You , and ask no more . The common People's sleep I do not praise , Cause full my self and sure of happy Days . Nor would I sell my freedom and my Ease , For rich Arabia , or the richer Seas . My Lord Mecoenas , you do oft admire And praise the Modesty of my desire , You King and Father I do oft confess , When present , and when absent speak no less : Now try if I can quietly resign What e're I have , be poor , and not repine : Telemachus said well , a barren place I rule , unfit for Horse , it yields no grass ; Nor is it spread into a spacious Plain . Atrides take your Presents back again : Mean Things do suit mean Men. Unmov'd I see Rome's Pomp and State , they are no Charms to Me. But unfrequented Tybur's quiet ease , The shady Plains , and soft Tarentum please . Philip the famous Lawyer coming home , ( And as He walk't the tedious streets of Rome ; Now old , complaining from his House to Court Did seem a tedious way , tho once but short ) He saw a spruce neat fellow of the Town Paring his Nails hard by , and all alone . Demetrius ( he then waited on his Lord ) Go quickly , run , enquire and bring me word , Who that Man is , what Trade , and what Estate , Who is his Patron , go , and tell me straight . He runs , comes back , and says ; the Man by Name , Vulteius Menas , spotless in his Fame , By Trade a Cryer , his Estate but small , Enough for Nature's Wants , and that 's his All. Now takes his Ease , and now his Game pursues , Knows how to get him Wealth , and how to use His Friends , his Equals , and his House his own ; And when his Bus'ness and his Cares are gone , He freely takes the pleasures of the Town . Well , I must talk with him , go streight invite , Go tell him He must Sup with me to night . He went , but Mena scarce believes the Boy , Silently wondering betwixt Fear and Joy : At last pleads business : What am I deny'd ? Yes he denys you out of Fear , or Pride : Next Morning early Philip chanc't to meet Ulteius , selling Toys about the Street . He comes up to him there , and kindly said , Good-morrow , first . Mena excus'd his Trade , The Clog that hindred that he did not wait This Morning early at his Worship's Gate ; And lastly that He had not seen him first . Says Philip , If you 'l Sup with me to night , I will forgive you : Sir , what you think fit : I 'le wait on you ; Then come at Three , he said ; Besure you come , now go , and mind your Trade . He came and Sup'd , and talk't , and well content , He thankt his Worship , and away he went. When after this he was observ'd to wait , And often come to tast the Treacherous Bait. Each Morn a Client , and a Guest at Noon ; One Feast when no Court business could be done ; His Patron ask't him to ride out a Town . He yields , and mounted on a stately Horse , He entertains him with a long discourse ; The Sabine healthy Air , and fruitful Field He praiseth ; Philip saw his drift and smil'd , And so to end the talk , and make more sport , He gives him , ( and to cut the Story short ) Lends him two hundred pounds ; and then persuades To buy a Farm , and leave his former Trades ; He takes the Counsel , buys , and leaves the Town , Puts off the modish Spark , and turns a Clown : Talks nothing but of Furrows and of Vines , Improvement of his Land , and such designs : He minds his Trees , and takes a World of Pain , Grows Grey upon his Cares , and thoughts of Gain ; But when his Sheep were lost he knew not how , His Goats Diseas'd , his Corn refus'd to grow , And labouring Oxen dy'd beneath the Plough : Vex't at the various loss , away He goes , At midnight in a rage to Philip's House ; When Philip saw him hastily appear , Deform'd and rough his Face , untrim'd his Hair ; Mena , says he , You spend Your self with Care. Good Patron , He cry'd out in wild affright , Pray call me Wretch , if you would call me right ; By Thee , by all that 's good , and all that 's dear , By all you Love , My Lord , and all you fear , I beg your pitty ; ease my vexing Pain , And turn me to my former Life again : He that hath once perceiv'd the treacherous Bait , And how his first excells his present State , Let Him return unto his former Care , And follow what He left ; 't is just and fair , By our own foot to measure what we are . EPISTLE VIII . To his Friend Celsus . He complains of the sickness of his Mind , and gives his Friend advice . GO prithee , Muse , my loving thoughts express , And wish my Celsus Health and good success : And if by chance He asks thee how I do , Tell him I make a noise , a gawdy show ; I promise mighty Things , I nobly strive ; Yet say what ill , unpleasant Life I live : Not cause the Hail doth break my Vines , or beat My Corn , nor cause my Olives shrink with heat ; Or Herds grow sickly in my Foreign Plain ; No , but because my Soul is vex't with Pain , ( The Body sound ) it is a sharp Disease , And yet I can't endure to hear of ease : I strom at my Physitian , hate my Friend , Because they strive to wake my drowsie Mind : What 's good I hate , and what will hurt approve , Unsettled still , and as wild fancies rove , At Tyber , Rome , at Rome I Tyber love . Then ask him how He doth with his Command , And how he pleaseth Claudius and his Band ; If He says well , then first be sure rejoice , And after with a small instructive voice Infuse this Precept at his list'ning Ear , We will bear You , as You Your Fortune bear . EPISTLE IX . He Commends his Friend Septimius to Claudius Nero. I Think my Friend , my Dear Septimius knew , How great an Interest , Sir , I have in You ; For He still asks and begs me as a Friend , He importunes me that I would Commend , And bring him to your Service ; He is fit For Nero's Train and Love , who does admit None but good Men , and Men of Sense and Wit. He thinks me Intimate , my Interest good , And more than I my self e're understood : I long deny'd , a thousand tricks I us'd , And urg'd a thousand things to be excus'd ; But fearing I should seem too shy , to own My Power with you , kind to my self alone , And scandals of a worser fault prevent , I 'me turn'd , my Lord , a modest Impudent , I boldly ask ; now if you dare Commend My boldness in the Service of my Friend , Accept Septimius , let him fill your Train , I promise him a stout and honest Man. EPISTLE X. To his Friend Fuscus Aristius . ( 1. ) Prefers the Country before the City . ( 2. ) The Covetous must be Slaves . ALL Health I lover of the Country send , To Fuscus the gay City's greatest Friend ; Brothers in all things else , what one approves , Or flies , the other likewise hates or loves , We Nod together like old acquainted Doves . And now we disagree in this alone , Our humors differ here ; you love the Town , And I the pleasant Plains , and purling Flood , The Groves , and mossy Banks , and shady Wood. In short , I Live , I Reign , since I 'me retir'd , From that which you as much as Heaven admir'd . " Like one at last from the Priests service fled , " Loathing the hony'd Cakes , I long for Bread : Do You a Life to Natures Rules design , And seek some fit Foundation to begin , Some Basis where this happy Frame to raise ? The quiet Countrey is the fittest place . Where is the Winter 's Cold more mild than here ? And when the Sun ascends , and burns the year , Where does a more delightful Wind asswage The furious Dog-stars , or the Lions rage ? Or where do envious Cares break fewer dreams ? Do Flowers shine less , or smell less sweet than Gems ? Are Streams more pure that Leaden Pipes convey , Than those fair Springs that with their wanton play , And gentle murmurs eat their easie Way ? E'en midst our Palaces we plant a Grove , And Gardens dress ; our Care shows what we love : That House is most esteem'd , He wisely builds That hath a Prospect to the open fields . Strive to expel strong Nature , 't is in vain , With doubled force she will return again , And conquering rise above the proud disdain . Not those that drive a Trade in Tyrian dyes , Yet know not Counterfeits , nor how to prize ; More vexing and more certain Cheats pursue , Than Those that can't distinguish false from True. Those whom the smiles of Fate too much delight , Their sudden Frowns more shake and more affright . What you admire , You will be loath to lose ; Greatness and Fortune's guilded snares refuse : " An humble Roof , plain Bed , and humble Board , " More clear and more untainted sweets afford , " Than all the Tumult of vain greatness brings , " To Kings , or the swoln Favourites of Kings : 2. Both fed together , till with injur'ous force , The stoutest Deer expell'd the weaker Horse : He beaten , flyes to Man to right his Cause , Begs help , and takes the Bridle in his Jaws . Yet tho He Conquer'd , tho He rul'd the Plain , He bore the Rider still , and felt the Rein. Thus the mean Wretch , that fearing to be poor , Doth sell his Liberty for meaner Ore : Must bear a Lord , He must be still a Slave , That cannot use the little Nature gave . Him whom his Wealth doth not exactly fit , Whose stores too closely , or too loosely sit , Like Shoes ill made and faulty , if too great They overturn , and pinch him if too strait . Content Aristus with thy present store , Thou wilt live wisely and not wish for more ; And let me prithee feel thy sharp reproof , If I shall strive for more than just enough . Money must rule , or must obey the Mind , More fit for Service than for Rule design'd : Behind Vacuna's Fane these lines I drew ; Well pleas'd with every thing , but wanting you . EPISTLE XI . To his Friend Bullatus , who had been Travelling ; That happiness may be had any where . BUllatus , how did pretty Samos show , Chios and stately Sardis , let me know , If They are such as Fame reports , or no ? Or can you find more pretty things at home ? Are all these places mean compar'd to Rome ? Or else doth some Attalian City please , Or Lebedus , where tir'd with boist'rous Seas , And tedious Roads , You first sat down to ease ? Now Desert Lebedus contains but few , And less than Gabii or Fidenoe knew . Yet there my days I with Content could spend , Forget , and be forgot by every Friend . There safe at shore see Winds and Storms engage , And smile from Land at distant Neptune's rage : But he that comes to Rome thro Rain and Mire , Would not live always by a Kitchin Fire . And he that 's cold commends not Baths and Heat , As if they made a happy life compleat . Nor ' cause Storms toss should'st thou straight seek thy ease , And sell thy Ship beyond Aegaean Seas . Fair Mytelene will prove as great a good To Men of sober Minds , as Tyber's Flood To Swimmers , when cold Winds severely blow , As Freeze in Summer , Silks in Frost and Snow . Whilst Fortune smiles , and gives Thee happy days , Chios at Rome , and absent Samos praise . Take thankfully those hours the Gods shall give ; Use whilst you may , and be not slow to live . For if 't is Reason , and not change of Air , That brings soft Rest , and frees our Souls from Care , Those that beyond Sea go shall sadly find , They change their Climate only , not their Mind . A busie idleness destroys our ease , We Ride and Sail to seek for happiness . Yet what we seek with every Tide and Wind , We can e'en here , or at Ulubra find , If we can have but a contented Mind . EPISTLE XII . 1. Desires his Friend Iccius to be content . 2. Commends Pompey Grosphus to him . 3. Tells how the Affairs in Italy stand . 1. IF You can use Agrippa's vast Estate , Which now you manage , 't is the height of Fate , Not Jove himself could give a greater store , Tho grown profuse ; my Friend complain no more , He that hath things for use is never poor . If Thou hast cleanly Food and Cloaths enough , What more than this can kingly Wealth bestow ? If at full Tables stor'd with dainty meat You can contain , and Herbs and Mallows eat , Thus thou wilt live , if prodigal of her store , The Golden Streams of Fortune guild Thee o're : ' Cause Mony cannot Natures stamp deface , And all things you below true Vertue place : Why should we wonder , is it strange to find , Democritus grown poorer , whilst his mind Was gone abroad , and left his Limbs behind ? Whilst You thro Clogs of gain can nobly climb , And midst dull Avarice think on Things Sublime ? What bounds the raging Sea , what rules the Year , Whether by their own force the Planets err , Or some Superior Guide ; what spreads the Night ? What hides the Moon ? What fills her face with Light ? What disagreeing Seeds of Things can make , The Stoicks or Empedocles mistake . Whatever Life you live , or Fishes drest , Or Leeks and Onions pill'd do make your Feast ? 2. Be kind , let Pompey Grosphius be your Guest . What he shall ask ( he 'll ask but little ) grant , Friends are in small esteem where good Men want . 3. But now to tell how Rome's Affairs stand , Cantabria yields to stout Agrippa's hand ; Armenia Claudius Nero's Courage feels , The haughty Parthian now to Caesar kneels : And Golden plenty with a bounteous hand , Rich Harvests freely scatters o're our Land. EPISTLE XIII . To his Friend Vinnius Asella about presenting his Books to Caesar . ASI advis'd you oft before you went , I beg Thee Vinnius now my Books present To Caesar , Seal'd ; when vexing Cares are fled , If well , if merry , if he asks to read : Lest over-busie in thy kind designs , You chose ill hours , and make him hate my lines : But if the Pack shall pinch Thee throw it down , Refuse to bear it , and the weight disown , Rather than having past the tedious Road , Thy Saddle shake , and strive to cast the Load ; And thus make good thy Father's Ancient Name , Be Ass indeed , a publick talk and shame : With all thy strength o're Lakes and Mountains run , And when those Streights are past you reach the Town , Take heed , and what you bring disclose to none : Be shy , and cautious , nor my Books proclaim , Nor bear them as a Rustick would a Lamb : Under thy Arm , as if thy hands were full , As drunken Pythia carries pilfer'd Wool : As when invited to his Landlord's house , A Country Tenant bears his Hat and Shoes : Proclaim not that you sweat those Lines to bear , Which will detain Great Caesar's Eyes and Ear ; Make all the hast my eager Wish requires , Farewell , take heed you Answer my desires . EPISTLE XIV . To his Steward , that He preferrs the Country before the City , and why . YOu Steward of my Woods and pleasant Plain , Which when I reach , I am my self again : Contemn'd by You , tho it hath kept alone , Five Ancient dwellers , and is often known , To send five Senators to Baria's Town . Come , now 't is Time , let 's see which of the Two , I from my Mind , or from my Pastures You , Can pluck Thorns best , and which is better Till'd , And which is better , Horace , or his Field : Tho Lamia's Piety , and mournful Care , That weeps his Brother's Fate detains me here : Yet still my Mind 's abroad , my Soul doth strive , To break the Bars and get free Room to live . I praise the Country , You the happy Town : He that loves others States dislikes his own : We blame the places , both deceiv'd and Fools , 'T is undeserv'd , the fault is in our Souls . Our Souls that are their own Companions still , And groan beneath their Native load of ill : In Town your wishes beg'd the Fields and Plain , A Farmer now You ask the Town again . I constant to my self part griev'd from home , When hated business forces me to Rome . We Two do very diff'rent Things admire , We widely disagree in our desire . What you call lonely Melancholly Seats , A Man of my Opinion , as he hates What you think fair , accounts them fine retreats . The Oyly Ord'narys the Stews do move Thy wishes for the Town , they raise thy Love : And ' cause my little Farm doth bear no Vine , But Frankincense , I see thy wild design : No neighbouring Tavern there to sell thee Wine . No wanton Songstress there to please thy Sense , And raise thy heavy Limbs into a Dance : Yet Thou dost Labour , thou dost Toyl and Sow , And break thy Fields , that never felt the Plough : Yet you take Care , you wash my bleating Flocks , And gather boughs to feed my weary'd Ox. And if the River run above the bound , Swoln big with Rain , you raise a stronger Mound , And teach it to forbear the Meadow ground . Now why these Things so differently appear To Us and what divides our Fancies , hear ; I that lov'd all the Frolicks of the Town , Curl'd powder'd Locks , a fine and gawdy Gown : That pleas'd coy Cynera without a price , That lov'd debauch , and courted every Vice , Now like short Suppers , and at civil hours , And sleep by purling Streams , on Banks of Flowers , Once to be wild is no such foul disgrace , But 't is so still to run the frantick Race : There on my Joys no Squint-ey'd Envious wait , None frowns , none looks askew , no secret hate , With venom'd Tooth doth bite . My Neighbours smile , To see me busie at my little Toil. But you had rather be remov'd to Town , That way your Mind and eager Wishes run : The City slaves , the while the Country love , And envy Thee , thy Garden , and thy Grove : The Ox the Saddle asks , the Ass the Plough , Let All ( that 's best ) pursue the Arts they know . EPISTLE XV. To his Friend Vala , inquiring what he can have in the place whither he designs to retire for his Health . DEar Vala prithee quickly send me word , What Velia , what Salernum can afford ; How hot the Winter ? If the Air be good , What manner'd Men live there ? and what 's the Road : ( True , my Physician tells me I may use The Bajan Baths , but those their help refuse , Because in Winter cooler Streams I choose . That I should leave their Groves , their Sulphurous Stream , So fam'd for curing knotty Gouts , contemn ; The whole Town mourns , and curses the Disease , That makes us seek the Clusian Springs for Ease : That makes us leave her Groves , her warmer Seat , For unfrequented Gaby's cool retreat . To change my Station now I must begin , And force my Horse beyond my usual Inn : So ho , where now the angry Riders say , And stifly pull the Rein , that 's not the way , I 'me not for Bay or Cume : then gently sooths , But bridled Horses Ears are in their mouths ) Which yields the most , and which the sweetest Grain , Whether they set out Tubs to catch the Rain , Or else have constant Springs , their Water clear , For I don 't like the Wine they fancy there : ( True , when at home , then any Drink will please , But when I go abroad to take my Ease , Enjoy Seas warmth , my thoughts from Cares reprieve , My Liquor must be good , if I would Live : Such as will fill my Veins with gen'rous fire , Bring certain hopes of Health , and thoughts inspire : Such as may make my wanton Wishes rise , And show me young and grateful to my Miss : ) Where most Hares run , most Bores infest the Plains , Which Sea most Oysters , which most Fish contains , That whilst I live I may be plump and gay ; You write me word , I 'le credit what you say : Menius when all his little Lands were gone , All loosely spent , and He a Man o' th' Town ; A Bully , at no certain board He Din'd , No house to lodge , but rail'd at Foe and Friend ; A bitter Rogue to Jeer , and sharp to Feign , Severe to Scandalize ; the very Bane And Ruine of the Shambles ; what He got He swallow'd ; all went down his greedy Throat . He when his Cheats not answer'd his desires , When little came from Fops , and bubbl'd Squires , Would feed on Guts , and on the vilest Meat , Swallowing as much as three large Bears could Eat ; And sober He , whilst thus he hardly far'd , Would have forsooth the Spend-thrifts Bellies sear'd : Yet the same Menius when his gains were more , And on his Gut he wasted all his Store , Turn'd all to Smoak and Ashes , us'd to cry , No wonder , faith , to see that Men feed high , When not the World a fairer sight can show , Than the large pickled Belly of a Sow : I 'me just like him , when poor , Oh how I love , The safe and little Store , and how approve ! When Rich , then those are blest , and only those , Whose stately House their hidden Treasure shows , None live so well , none take such soft repose . EPISTLE XVI . ( 1. ) To his Friend Quintus , a Description of his little Farm. ( 2. ) Advice concerning a happy life . 1. ASk me not , Quintus , what my Farm doth yield , Whether 't is Hay or Corn that crowns my Feild ; Elms cloath'd with Vines , or Fruit , or Olives rise , I 'le tell you what it is , and how it lies . A ridge of Hills a shady Rale divides , And takes the Suns kind Rays on both her sides ; The right hand opens to the rising day , The left hand gently takes the setting Ray ; You like the Clime : If every Hedge that grows Doth blush in Cornoils , or doth mourn in Sloes , If Beechen Groves and fruitful Oaks afford Meat for my Cattle , Shades for me their Lord , You 'd think Tarentum's pleasant Feilds remove To wait on me , and spread a shady Grove . A pleasant Spring , almost a River flows , Not Heber's Streams the Thracian Feilds inclose With waves more cool and clear ; The waters spread To purge the Stomach good , and cleanse the Head. These pleasant ( nay 't is true ) these sweet retreats , Preserve my Health amid'st the Summers Heats . 2. And you live well if what Fame says be true , For all admire , and Rome doth boast of you . She calls you happy , but , my Friend , I fear You more believe what others say you are , Than what you know your self : Esteem none happy but the Wise and Good. Nor when you 're flatter'd by the heedless Crowd That you look well , dissemble thy disease , Sit down to feast , and give it time to seize , Until it shakes , and thou canst eat no more : 'T is foolish shame to hide a fest'ring Sore . Suppose one speaks of Wars and noble Fights , And with these words thy empty Ears delights ; Jove who for You , and for the People cares Leaves still in doubt whose safety most prefers , The People Yours , or else the People's you , Dost see his praise is only Caesar's due ? Yet when they call the Good canst Thou agree ? Canst Thou consent that That belongs to Thee ? For you and I both love the Crowd should say That we are good , but what that gives to day , To morrow if it please it takes away : As when it Offices on Fools bestows , They call them back , and scorn the Man they chose : Lay down , t is ours They cry , I lay it down Poor naked Wretch , and griev'd depart , and frown : The same Crowd calls me Thief , they pass a vote That I 'me unchast , or cut my Fathers throat ; And with false Scandals bite me ; must I fear , Must I look pale for this ? or shed a tear ? False honors please , and false reports disgrace And trouble , Whom ? The vitious and the base : Who then is Good ? Why He that keeps the Laws , And antient Rites ; whose Word secures a Cause : Who reconciles his Neighbours , free from Strife , And seems to lead a fair and honest Life : Yet all his Neighbours know him base within , His outside 's fair , his inside's black with Sin. Suppose my Slave should say , I neither fly , Nor steal : Well , Thou hast thy reward say I , Thou art not Scourg'd , I never kill'd a Man , Well , Thou shalt not be hang'd , or torn with pain , But I am thristy , honest , good , and wise , Sabellus cannot grant it , nay denys : For crafty Foxes dread the secret Snare , The Kite and Hawk , altho the bait be fair , Yet never stoop where they suspect a Gin ; The Good for Vertue 's sake abhor a Sin. 'T is fear of Punishment restrains thy Will , Give leave , how eagerly would'st thou be ill ? Suppose you steal few Grains from stores of Wheat , The Loss , 't is true , is less , the Crime 's as great : The Man that 's honest in the Peoples Eyes , When e're He kills a costly Sacrifice , A Pig or Bull , and whilst his Vows are good , Apollo , Janus hear , he prays aloud . But murmurs softly , to be heard afraid , Good , Good Laverna hear me , grant me aid For such a Cheat , let all believe me Good , Let me seem just and honest to the Crowd , And o're my Cheats , and Forgeries spread a Cloud . How are the Covetous than Slaves more free , That basely stoop for every Pin they see I can't imagine . He that still doth crave Must fear , and He that fears must be a Slave ; For He hath lost his Arms , and basely fled , Left Vertues Camp , and all her Laws betray'd ; That 's eager to be rich , that strives for more , Goes on , and dyes beneath the weighty Store : Forbear to kill the Captive thou canst sell , His work will bring thee gain , He 'll serve Thee well : Whether He Tills thy Field , or Feeds thy Sheep , Or Sails , and Winters in the raging Deep : A Man that 's Good and Wise will boldly say , Well Pentheus King of Thebes , Why this delay ? Pray what must I expect ? What must I fear , What undeserv'd must I be forc't to bear ? I 'le take away thy Goods : My Flocks , my Land , You may , 't is subject all to Your Command : I 'le Chain and Rob Thee of thy Liberty , Ah God , when e're I please , will set me free , I think I know what these his words design , I 'le dye , of Things Death is the utmost Line . EPISTLE VII . Adviseth his Friend Scaeva to choose , and how to behave himself in the Great-Mens acquaintance . THo Scaeva Thou hast Wit enough to choose The Great-Mens favour , and art skill'd to use ; Yet hear what thy unskillful Friend can say , As if one Blind pretends to show the way ; Yet see a while if what is fairly shown Be good , and such as you may make your own : If you delight in Ease , and quiet joys , If ratling Coaches , and the Tavern 's noise Disturbs Thee , Scaeva , then refuse the Charms Of Greatness , live upon thy little Farms ; " For Pleasures do not follow only Wealth : " Nor lives He ill , that lives and dyes by stealth : But if you love to aim at nobler Ends , And would be able to assist your Friends , Live well thy self , and better thy Estate , Now thou art dry , go soak upon the Fat : If Aristippus patiently could Dine On Herbs , He would the Courts of Kings decline : If He that censures me knew how to use The Courts of Kings , He would his Herbs refuse : Now which of these you think is best declare ; Or else , my Junior you , with patience hear Why Aristippus humor 's best ; for thus He bob'd the Cynick , as the story goes : I for my self , to please the People you Break Jests ; my way 's the better of the Two : I do my Duty , free from fear or force ; To carry me the King provides a Horse , Whilst you beg scraps ; and tho you boast you live , And nothing want , art less than those that give : All Fortune fitted Aristippus well , Aiming at greater , pleas'd with what befell : But for the Cynick , I should think it strange , If He could look but comely in a change : The One will not expect a Purple Coat , But howsoever cloath'd , He walks about , Thro Court and Town , and with a decent Art , In either habit neatly acts his Part : But Purple , or a Gown of Cloth of Gold , The other hates , and He will dye with Cold , Unless you will his tatter'd Rags restore , Go give him Rags , and let the Fool be poor : To War , and Triumph's near Jove's glorious Throne , 'T is all Divine , 't is Caesar's work alone : To please the Great is not the smallest praise , Not all can go to Corinth now adays ; He never strives that doth despair to gain , Well , doth He bravely act that doth obtain ? Yet here or no where we may hope to find What we desire : By one the weight's declin'd , Too great for his small strength , and little mind : Another ventures , takes , and bears the same , Or Vertue is a show , an empty name , Or He that trys , walks right to Wealth and Fame . The Man that 's silent , nor proclaims his want , Gets more than him that makes a loud complaint : It differs whether fairly you receive , Or rudely snatch the things the Great can give , Yet that 's the chifest measure how to live : My Mother 's poor , my Farm's too mean to sell , And yet not yields enough to keep me well , My Niece a Portion wants , my Fortune 's low , He that says thus , He crys aloud , Bestow : And when He hath it , others rise and say , Divide the Booty , We will share the Prey ; But could the talking Crow in quiet eat , His Envy had been less , but more his Meat : A small retainer in a Noble's Train To fair Surrentum , that doth still complain , The Road is bad , it Rains , 't is very Cold ; My Chest is rifled , and I 've lost my Gold ; Does like the Jilting Whores that often mourn , Ah me ! my Garter's lost , my Hood is torn , Until at last unheeding the Complaint , We give no credit to their real want : A Man that hath been once abus'd grows shy , He views a Cripple with an heedless Eye ; Nor lends a helping hand , altho He Swears By Isis , soft'ning every Oath with Tears , Believe me I 'me no Cheat , and sadly crys , O Cruel , help the Lame : The Crowd replies , Go seek a Stranger to believe thy Lyes . EPISTLE XVIII . To his Friend Lollius . Advice to his Friend how to behave himself , and get the Love of all . FRee Lollius if I rightly hit thy mind , You will be always such as you pretend , Not prove a Flatterer , and profess a Friend : For Friends and faithless Flatterers differ more , Unliker than a Matron and a Whore. But stay my Friend there is another Vice Just opposite , and almost worse than this : A Clownish roughness , and unkindly close , Unfriendly , stiff , and peevishly morose ; Which doth commend her self and strive to please , With blackish Teeth , stretch't skin and Rustick dress , It prides its self , and would be thought to be Clean perfect Vertue , and meer Liberty . Vertue doth Vice , as two Extreams , divide , Drawn up from both , and leans to neither side . This headlong to obey at every Feast , To please the great Ones jeers the meaner Guest , The rich Man's Nod doth so severely dread , Corrects himself , and takes up what he said , As if you heard a trembling School-boy say His Part , or the Rehearsal of a Play. That strives for Trifles , and for Toys contends , He is in earnest , what He says , defends : That I should not be trusted right or wrong , Or be debarr'd the freedom of my Tongue ; And not bawl what I please ! To part with this I think another life too mean a price . The Question is , Pray what ? why which can boast Or Docilis or Cast of knowing most Or whether thro Numicum been't as good To fair Brundusium as the Appian road : Whom costly wenching , or a gawdy whore , Or whom the race , whom Dice makes quickly poor : Or who 's a Fop , and who perfumes his hair Or 's finer drest than his Estate will bear ; Who for meer thirst of Gold doth gather store , And who out of pure fear of being poor : Thy rich friend better stor'd in all defects And Vice than Thee , or hates Thee or corrects , And as good Mothers he will oft advise , I wish you 'd be more vertuous and more wise Than I my self am now , I vow I doe ; And faith , to speak the truth , most times 't is so . My wealth will lear my folly ( cease to strive With me ) Sir , you have scarce enough to live ; Contract your Vices Sir , forbear to vye You must not take so great a range as I. The Man Cutrapelus would have undone He streight presented with a gawdy gown , That He grown happy in his fine attire , Might take new hopes and raise his wishes higher , Forgoe his honest trade for easy Vice , Sleep on till noon , and follow Whores and Dice , Take money up , till he hath spent his All , And drives a Cart for bread , or rots in Jayl : Pry not thro Secrets ; What thou learn'st conceal Tho Wine and Anger rack Thee to reveal : Praise not thine own , or scorn thy friends delight ; Nor , when he 'd have thee hunt keep home and write . Thus Zethus once with his Amphion strove , Twin brothers , till at last they joyn'd their Love ; The softer harp grew mute , he left his quill , Amphion yielded to his Brother's will : Humor the great Ones , quick obedience yield To slight Commands , and when he takes the field With Nets , or Hawks , or Hounds , no sport refuse , Shake off thy lazy and ill-humor'd Muse : That Thou may'st eat at night what Thou hast Caught , And sup with them ; for this the Ancients taught , And this the Romans use , t is free from shame , 'T is good for life , and health , and gets Thee fame . Since thou art well in health , art strong to wound And fight the Bore , or to out-run the hound , None more genteil than You can cast a Spear , You know when you within the lists appear The Crouds all clap ; Nay e'en your tender Age Endur'd the Wars , and fierce Cantabrian rage , Your Captain He , the brave and the Divine , Who brought our Ensigns from the Parthian Shrine , Redeem'd our Fame , and what e're Land remains Resolves to make it feel the Roman Chains . But lest you part and no excuse can show , Altho I must confess what e're you do Is fit , and decent , and becoming You : Sometimes you toy at home , your Boats divide , A squadron stands drawn up on either side : By your direction fir'd with martial rage As in the Actian fight , the Boys ingage , With Souldiers fury , and with Souldiers art ; You one , your Brother leads the other part : Your Lake's rough Adria's flood , till one's or'ethrown , And sudden Victory doth the other Crown : He that thinks you agree with his design , Will clap with both his hands , and favor thine . But to advise you , if you want advice , Take heed of whom you speak , and what it is , Take heed to whom , avoid the busy Men , Fly the inquisitive , they 'l talk agen , And tell what you have said , a leaky Ear Can never hold what it shall chance to hear , 'T will run all out , and what you once let fall It flys , and t is impossible to recall ; If thy great friend keeps handsom Maid or Boy Be not in Love , and eager to enjoy , Lest He bestow that little gift to please , Or else deny , and highten thy disease . Praise none till well approv'd on sober thoughts , Lest after you should blush for others faults . You prais'd a Rascal , there you chanc't to err , Then don't defend him when his Crimes appear : But one approv'd when Scandals press , defend , Let him on Thee , and on thy Fame depend Whom envy bites , for thou may'st plainly see The danger will at last come o're to Thee : For your'e in danger when the Next's on fire , And Flames neglected often blaze the higher . To Court the Great-ones , and to sooth their Pride , Seems a sweet task to those that never try'd ; But those that have , know well that danger 's near , It is a ticklish point , and mixt with fear . Do you endeavour whilst you cut the Main , That no cross Storm should toss Thee back again , The Active hate the Dull , the Sad Jocose , The Dull the Active , Merry the Morose ; Stout Jolly Topers scorn the Sober Ass , They hate those fellows that refuse their Glass ; Altho they beg , altho they swear they dread The nightly fumes , fur'd mouth , and aching head : Put off all Clouds and Darkness from thy brow , Be Jolly , Gay , and Mirth and Humour show , For modest Men are oft thought cloudy Souls , And Men of little talk , ill natur'd Fools : In every state of Life besure of this , Read o're thy moral Books , consult the wise , How thou may'st live , how spend thine Age in Peace , Lest fierce desire , still poor , disturb thine Ease ; Or Fears should shake , or Cares thy Mind abuse , Or ardent hope for things of little use . If Arts do Vertue breed , or Nature send , What lessens Cares , what makes thy self thy Friend , What calms Thee , Honor , or admired Wealth ; Or close retirement , and a life by stealth . When I , my Friend , do go to take repose , At cold Medela , where Degentia flows ; Medela my belov'd , but little Town , With Cold and Frost all gray and wrinkled grown : For what do you imagine that I care ? What think , what make the subject of my prayer ? Let me have what I have , or somewhat less , 'T will still be great enough for happiness ; And that I may , if Heaven more years will give , Live to my self the time I have to live : Estate in Books , and Food to serve a year , Lest I should wavering hang 'twixt hope and fear : And this is all for which Mankind should pray , And beg of Jove who gives and takes away ; Let him but Life , and moderate Plenty find , And I 'le provide my self an happy mind . EPISTLE XIX . TO MECAENAS . 1. Of Poetry . 2. His own Excellencies . 3. Why not lik'd . 1. MY Lord , if what Cratinus says be right , Those Verses cannot live , those Lines delight , Which Water drinkers Pen , in vain they Write . For e're since Bacchus did in wild design , With Fauns and Satyrs half-mad Poets joyn , The Muses every morning smelt of Wine . From Homer's praise his love of Wine appears , And Ennius never dar'd to write of Wars Till heated well , let sober dotards choose The Plodding Law , but never tempt a Muse , This Law once made , the Poets streight begin , They drunk all night , all day they stunk of Wine : Suppose a Man the coursest Gown should wear , No Shoes , his Forehead rough , his look severe , And Ape great Cato in his Form and Dress ; Must He his Vertues and his Mind express ? Whilst dull Hyarbit wish't , and vainly strove To speak as smoothly , and as aptly move As sweet Timagenes , and reach his Arts , He overstrain'd himself , and broak his Parts : Examples Vice can imitate deceive : Should I by Chance , or a Disease be pale , The Sots would drink their bloodless Cummin all . Base Imitators , Slaves to others Wills , How oft you move my frowns , how oft my smiles ? 2. I trod new paths , to others feet unknown ; He that first ventures , leads the others on : I first the Romans keen Iambicks taught , In numerous smoothness , and in hight of thought , I match't Archilocus , I show'd the Age His numbers , but forbore his murdering rage . But lest you say that I fall short of fame , Because my Number 's his , my Verse the same ; The Saphick sweetens all his bitter vain , And grave Alcaick smooths his rougher strain : The subject's different , different the Designs , And tho thro all a vertuous freedom shines , With no black Lines he daubs , no envious breath Doth soil Mens same , or Rhyme a Spouse to death . This Verse ne're heard by Latine Ears before , I first discover'd from the Grecian store ; And this delights me now that I am known , And read for these inventions of my own . 3. Now would you know why our ungrateful Rome , Doth praise my Poems when with me at home , But flout abroad ; I 'le freely tell the Cause : I do not beg the empty Crowd's Applause : I do not often treat , nor do I send My old cast Suits , and bribe them to commend . I do not crowd to hear our Fops rehearse , Nor do I praise , and clap our Nobles Verse : I cannot run to every Pedant Fool , And beg that He would read my Book in 's School : Hence springs my Wo ; now if I say I fear , To bring dull Lines t' a crowded Theatre , And vaunt my Trifles , streight , You jeer , you cry , And keep your Verse alone for Caesar 's Eye : And proud you think that you alone can write Sweet hony lines , fine in thy own conceit : A tart reply to this I fear to give , Lest his sharp Nails should scratch me whilst I strive . I do not like the place I freely say , Forbear a while , let 's take another day ; For Jest dislike , Dislike Contention bears , Contention Hate , and Hate breeds dreadful Wars . THE CONCLUSION To his BOOK . I Know you long to visit every Stall , You would be neatly bound , and set to Sale ; The bars , that please the modest , trouble you , And you Commend , and Court the publick view , And mourn that you are hid , and seen by few . Go to the publick then , go where you strive , Tho thou wert not bred thus , or taught to live : There shall be no return when once thour' t gone , And thou wilt cry , Ah me ! What have I done ! What have I beg'd ! When one shall call thee dull , And squeeze Thee when his Belly 's quickly full . But now unless fond rage besots my mind , Unless meer hatred to thy faults does blind , I Prophesie , and I am sure 't is true ; You shall be lik'd and prais'd at Rome whilst new ; But when thou shalt be soil'd by every hand , Then slighted , and to common use prophan'd ; To bind up Letters , and be torn , be tost , And fly to other Countries every Post . Then I who have advis'd in vain , shall smile , As He that drove his Ass t' a craggy Hill : For who would save a thing against its Will ? At last in Schools thou shalt be thumb'd by Boys , And there grow foolish , old , and deaf with noise . But when at Evening many come to read , Tell them that I was meanly born and bred , My Father poor , of small Estate possest , And that I stretch't my Wings beyond my Nest . But as you cut me short in Wealth , increase My Vertues , tell them I the greatest please , A little Man , and studious of my ease . And pettish too , I can be angry soon , My Passion 's quickly rais'd , but quickly gone . Grown gray before my time , I hate the cold , And seek the warmth ; and if they ask how old , Now Lepidus and Lollius are in Power , Tell them I 'me Four and Forty and no more . The End of the First Book of Epistles . EPISTLES . BOOK II. Epistle I. To Augustus . A Discourse of Poetry . WHen you alone sustain the weighty Cares Of all the World , and manage Peace and Wars , The Roman State by Vertue 's Rules amend , Adorn with Manners , and with Arms defend , To write a long Discourse , to wast your time , Would hinder publick good , and turn a Crime : The Ancient Heroes , though blest aboads Receiv'd when dead , exalted into Gods ; Yet whilst they liv'd with Men , and whilst bestow'd The greatest Cares , and did the greatest Good , Built Towns , made Laws , and brought delightful ease , And civiliz'd the Rational Savages ; Complain'd that They ingrateful Masters serv'd , And met far less rewards than They deserv'd : He that kill'd Hydra , He design'd by Fate To quell the Monsters rais'd by Juno's hate ; Tho He , the mighty He , had all ways try'd , Found Envy could be vanquisht only when He dy'd : For those are hated that excell the rest , Altho when dead they are belov'd , and blest ; The vigorous Ray torments the feeble sight , Yet when the Sun is set , They praise the light : To Thee , great Caesar , now we Altars give , We vow and swear by Thee e'en whilst alive : For never yet the Gods kind hands bestow'd , Nor ever will a Prince so great , so good : That she prefers , that she esteems Thee more Than all the Heroes she enjoy'd before , Than all that she hath bred , or Greece can boast , In this , 't is true , thy Rome is Wise and Just : But not in other things ; the Ancient Plays , And Foreign Poets only she can praise ; The Present or Contempt , or Hate receive , 'T is Crime enough that they are yet alive : Thus Old-Loves do admire the Ancient Laws , The Sabines Leagues have their deserv'd applause ; On musty Leaves at awful distance look , Age makes it Reverend , and exalts the Book : Give him the Bards old Songs , Oh Rare ! Divine ! I swear 't is good , a Muse sang every Line : But if because the oldest are the best Amongst the Greeks , the same unequal Test Must try the Latines too ; in short , No doubt Plumes have nought hard within , nor Nuts without : We sit on Fortune's Top , We sing , We write , And Wrestle better than the Greeks can Fight . If length of Time will better Verse like Wine , Give it a brisker Tast , and make it fine ; Come tell me then , I would be gladly show'd , How many years will make a Poem good : One Poet writ an Hundred years ago , What is He Old , and therefore Fam'd or no ? Or is He New , and therefore Bald appears ? Let 's fix upon a certain term of Years . He 's good that liv'd an Hundred Years ago , Another wants but One , is He so too ? Or is He New , and Damn'd for that Alone ? Well , He 's Good too , and Old that wants but One. And thus I 'le argue on , and bate no more , And so by one and one wast all the store : And so confute him , who esteems by Years , A Poem's goodness from the date it bears . Who nor admires , nor yet approves a Line But what is Old , and Death hath made Divine . Ennius , the lofty Ennius , and the Wise , That second Homer , in our Criticks Eyes , Is loose in 's Poems , and correct in few , Nor takes he care to prove his Dreams were true , He shows so little of great Homer's Soul. " Naevius is learn'd by heart , and dearly sold , " So Sacred is his Book , because 't is Old. When Accius and Pacuvius are compar'd , Both are esteem'd , both meet with great reward ; Pacuvius all the Criticks Voices gains For Learning , Accius for his lofty strains . Afranius shows us soft Menander's Flame , And Plautus rivals Epicharmus Fame : Cecilius grave , and Terence full of Art , These Rome admires , and these she learns by heart . These are the Worthies of her Theater , These she applauds with heat , and crowds to hear : These she esteems the Glories of the Stage , And counts from Livy's to our present Age. The Critic Mobile will be medling still , Sometimes their Judgment 's good , and sometimes ill : Thus when they praise the Old , and when prefer , Beyond compare to all the New , They Erre : But when they grant the Ancients Books and Plays Are often dull , and uncorrect in Phrase , Their words unfits , or else their main design , Their Judgment 's rational , and jumps with mine : I do not damn old Livy's Rhymes as dull , For which I often smarted when at School ; But that he should be thought Correct , Sublime , And far before the Poems of our Time ; That one poor Chance-good Line or two at most , The only Thing that all his Books can boast , Not only should attone for what 's amiss , But recommend the whole ; I 'me vext at this . I hate a Fop should scorn a faultless Page , Because 't is New , nor yet approv'd by Age : And then admiring all the Ancient Plays , Not only pardon their defects , but Praise . Should I but doubt if Atta's Plays are good . Our Old-Loves straight would cry the Youngster's Proud ; He 's impudent , nor thinks those Plays exact , Which Roscius , and grave Aesop us'd to act : Because they Judge by their own Appetites , And think nought sweet , but what their tast delights ; Or to stoop to their Juniors Rules disdain , Or else to think what once they learn't was vain , And only fit to be forgot again ; Those that applaud the Songs of former Times , The dotish Bards old Verse , or Monkish Rhimes ; Who would be thought to have a sharper Eye , And in those Poems numerous Graces spy , In which They see no more fine Things than I ; 'T is not to praise the Old , but scorn , abuse , And hate New Books , and damn the Modern Muse . Had Greece done thus , had she still scorn'd the New , What had been Old , what worthy Publick View ? When Wars were done , and Greece dissolv'd in Peace , When Fortune taught them how to live at Ease , They wrestled , Painted , sung , these Arts they lov'd , These They did much admire , and these improv'd ; In every Picture vulgar Eyes could find The Face exact , and almost saw the Mind ; Then Racing Vaulting then , the Plays and Stage , Each took their turn to please the wanton Age ; Like Boys at Nurse , they eagerly desir'd , But straight were cloy'd , and left what they admir'd . For what disgusts our fancies , what doth please , But may be chang'd ? these are the fruits of Ease , This happy fortune bears , this springs from Peace . 'T was heretofore a credit here at Rome , To mind a Shop all day , and keep at home ; Attend Ones Client , and promote his Cause , Inform his Ignorance , and teach the Laws ; To make good Debts , and drive a gainful Trade , And know what Interest may be justly paid : Instruct the Young , and hear the Old Debate , What will increase , what ruine an Estate : This Humor 's chang'd , now Reigns a New delight , All must be Authors now , and all must Write : All strive to get the Bays , and all Rehearse , They Dine , they Sup in Rhyme , and drink in Verse . E'en I that swear I never try'd a Muse , E'en I 'me forsworn , my Deeds my Words accuse ; My Quill is scribling too ; before 't is light I call for Paper , Pen , and Ink , and write . He that 's no Pilot is afraid to Sail , Urge him to guide a Ship , you sha'nt prevail , And only Doctors will pretend to heal . By Smiths alone , are Locks and Staples made , And none pretend but Artists in the Trade . But now for Poetry we all are fit , And skilful , or unskilful all must write ; And yet this Madness thousand Goods commend , A thousand pleasures wait , and all attend ; A Poet 's seldom Covetous , or Nice , Safe and secure within himself he lyes . He minds and loves his Rhymes , and those alone ; Tell him his Goods are burnt , his Slaves are gone , Or his Fields lost ; He laughs , nor strives to cheat His Ward , or Friend , a stranger to deceit : He 's thrifty , feasts upon a dish of Pease , And lives content with Houshold-Bread and Cheese : Unfit for War , yet they are good in Peace . ( For great things by the help of small increase ) Instruct our looseness , and inform our Ease . They teach our Boys to hate all words Obscene , To follow generous Rules , and speak like Men. And then slide gently down with Vertuous Rules Into the tender Breast , and form their Souls ; Restrain their Envy , and correct their rage , Tell them what 's good , instruct their tender Age , With fit Examples , and their griefs asswage . How had our Sacred Songs and Hymns been made , And how our Pray'rs as high as Heav'n convey'd ; Did not the Muses Poets sancies raise , To teach us how to pray , and how to praise ? In Verse the fawning Quire her Plagues bewails , And begs a speedy comfort , and prevails ; Good Weather , happy years , and much encrease ; Their Pray'rs are streightway heard , all smile in Peace . The Year is rich , the Fields with Plenty flow , Verse softens Gods above , and Gods below . The Ancient Swains , those temperate happy Swains , Contented Sovereigns of their little Plains . When all their Corn was hous'd would make a Feast , Unbend their Minds , and lay them down to rest ; Their Cares dissolv'd into a happy Thought , And Minds enjoy'd , the rest their labour sought . A Pig on Tellus's Altars left his Blood , And Milk from large brown Bowls to Sylvan flow'd : Their Wife , their Neighbours , and their pratling Boys Were call'd , all tasted of the Country Joys : They Drank , they Danc't , they Sang , made wanton Sport , Enjoy'd their selves , for life they knew was short . Hence grew the Liberty of the looser Muse , Hence they grew Scurrilous , and would abuse ; Hence those loose Dialogues at Marriage Feasts , Yet still they were but Mirth , and Country Jests . At last they shew'd their Teeth , and sharply bit , And Railery usurp't the Place of Wit. Good Persons were abus'd , and suffer'd wrong , They loudly talk't , no Law to curb their Tongue : The wounded griev'd , the smart provok't their Hate , And all untoucht bewail'd the Common Fate . Till Laws commanded to regard Mens Fame , Severely lash the Vice , but spare the Name . Fear made them civil , and design to write With modesty ; speak well , and to delight : Greece conquer'd did the Conqueror o'recome , Polish't the rude , and sent her Arts to Rome : The former roughness flow'd in smoother Rhymes , And good facetious Humor pleas'd the Times : Yet they continu'd long , and still we find , Some little marks of the old Rustick mind , Some of the Scurrilous Humor left behind . 'T was long before Rome read the Graecian Plays , For Cares took up her Nights , and Wars her Days : Till Carthage ruin'd she grew soft in Peace , And then inquir'd what weighty Sophocless , What Eschylus , what Thespis taught the Age , What good , what profit did commend the Stage . And then they turn'd their Plays , their thoughts were high , By Nature great , and fit for Tragedy . But to review , to blot what once was writ , Oh that was mean , it was a shame to Wit : The Comic then was thought the easier way , Because 't is common Humor makes the Play ; Yet 't is the hardest , for the faults appear So Monstrous , and the Criticks so severe , That e'en their greatest Mercy cannot spare . Plautus , 't is true , observes the Rules of Art , His well drawn Figures suit with every part ; He Paints an Amorous Fop , a Jilting Jade , A careful Father , or designing Bawd : But Dorsen rudely draws his Parasites , How loose his Lines , how uncorrect he writes ! He writes for Gold , and if his Pocket's cram'd , He cares not , let the Play be Clap't or Damn'd : But He that Writes to have applause for Wit , If unconcern'd the grave Spectator sit , He dyes ; but if attentive , then He 's proud , They like my Fancy , and my Plays are good : So small , and so contemn'd a thing will raise , Or damp Mens eager Thoughts that write for Praise : I like not this , and I forswear the Stage , If clap't I must be proud , if damn'd must rage . And who would be so bold to write , that knew The Judging Men of Honor are but few ? The Vulgar Thousands , who might hiss the Play , And if our Nobles should dislike their way , Would huff , and swear , and quarrel straight and fight ; Or leave the Stage to see a Puppet-sight ; Or to the Bears , for that 's the Crowds delight . But now our Nobles too are Fops and Vain , Neglect the Sense , but love the Painted Scene ; Four hours are spent in Show to please the sight , A tedious Battle , and at last a Flight ; Then Kings in Chains , and to reward their Toil , Corinthian Statues , and a world of Spoil . Would not Democritus if now alive , Split here , would He these Fooleries forgive ? And if the Vulgar with a wild amaze , Neglect the Actors , and forsake the Plays , And on an Elephant or a Panther gaze : Sure He would look , and in the gaping Crowd , Find better Humor than the Actor show'd . Besides , He needs must think they write in vain , And teach deaf Asses , prodigal of their pain : For who can judge , or who can hear the Wit , When Noise and strange Confusion fills the Pit ? As when the Winds dash Waves against the Shore , Or lash the Woods , and all the Monsters Roar ; So great the shout when rich and strangely drest , The Player comes , they clap his gawdy Vest . Well hath the Actor spoken ? Not a Line : Why then d' ye clap ? Oh , Sir , his Cloaths are fine . But lest you think that I that write no Plays , Or envy their Design , or poorly Praise ; I fairly grant those Poets Wit that Rule My Passions as they please , disturb my Soul ; And then by a short turn my thoughts relieve , Whose lively Fiction makes me laugh or grieve . Whose well wrought Scenes natural and just appear ; I see the place , and fancy I am there . But those that hate and fly the censuring Stage , Yet Write to please the Readers of the Age. Make them , Great Caesar , to improve their vein , Review their Poems o're and o're again . If you would have them live , be great in praise , And by just Study strive to win the Bays . We Poets often damn our selves that dare , ( As I have done ) when you are full of Care , To offer Verse ; or when we ost repine , If a good friend finds but one faulty Line . Or when rehearsing we with sighs complain , My fancy 's not perceiv'd , I write in vain ; And then unask't repeat it o're again . Or when we think , when once our Fame is known , We straightway shall be sent for up to Town ; Enjoy a Pension , or a piece of Land , And write new Poems at the King's Command . And yet , Great Sir , 't is worth your while to know , What , Caesar , future times must think of you . And who must be disposer of your Fame , Who tell to distant Worlds your glorious Name : By whom your Life ; by whom your Wars be Writ , Actions too Sacred for a Common Wit. Cherillus the Pelloean Youth approv'd , Him He rewarded well , and him He lov'd . His dull uneven Verse , by great good Fate , Got him his favour , and a fair Estate . Tho just as Ink when touch't still leaves a stain , Dull Rhymes besmear , and noble Acts prophane : Yet He the same that bought dull Rhimes so dear , In meaner things he took a greater care , Let none but learn'd Apelles paint my Face , Lysippus only must Design't in Brass . Thus spake his Laws , in this I grant he show'd His Skill sufficient , and his Judgment good . But when for Verse , he chose so mean a Thing , How poor his Judgment ? How below a King ? But Virgil , Varius , and the learned few , That are applauded , and belov'd by You ; Declare your Skill is great , your Judgment true . The Honors you bestow do raise your Fame , They gratefully reflect upon your Name , And kindly praise the Author whence they came : Nor can Ones Face be with more Art design'd In Brass , than in a Poem thoughts and mind : E'en I desire to leave the humble Plain , I would be high , and write a lofty strain . I wish I could describe your Wars , and show How Barbarous Nations fear , and how they bow . How you have raz'd their Towns , their Ocean stain'd With Blood , and with strong Towers bound up their Land. How War 's Exil'd , and Peace and Plenty reign , And Janus Temple now is shut again : How mean , and how submissive Parthians come , How under Thee they fear and honor Rome : All this I would , but Oh I want the Wit Your Deeds must be by some high Genius Writ . Whose lofty Soul , his tow'ring thoughts can raise , As high as You have done , and take the Bays , 'T is Treason , Sir , to give you meaner Praise . I know my weakness , and I must refuse , A task too weighty for my tender Muse , A sordid Commendation hurts our Friend , And those that meanly praise , do discommend : For what 's derided by the Censuring Crowd , Is thought on more than what is just and Good : I hate those obligations that disgrace : I am not fond to have an ugly Face Design'd for me expos'd to public View : Nor Praise in dull Verse , tho the Praise be true . I would not ly at every Grocer's door , To wrap Tobacco , or do something more . I would not have a Verse that bears my Name Lye under Pies ; 't is an ill way to Fame . EPISTLE II. To his Friend Julius Florus . ( 1. ) He makes an excuse for not sending the Odes he promised . ( 2. ) Why He wrote no more . ( 3. ) The faults of the Poets . ( 4. ) Directions for Writing . ( 5. ) He designs graver Studies . ( 6. ) Against Covetousness . ( 7. ) The uncertainty of every thing . 1. DEar Florus , Nero's Friend , the Great , the Brave , Suppose one come to sell a Clownish Slave , And speak Thee thus , This Boy is neatly made , He 's sound from Head to Foot , a pretty Lad. For Twenty Pound he 's Yours , the Bargain 's fair , He 'll serve , and fit your humor to a hair : He 's yet soft Clay , he 'll take a Stamp with ease , And you may form him , Sir , to what you please . He speaks some Greek , and at a drinking Match He 'll bear the Bob , and sing a merry Catch . To praise too much like a design appears , When He extolls that would put off his Wares : I a' n't in want , I am in debt to none , What e're I have , tho little , 't is my own ; Few , Sir , would tell you this , and tell you true , Nor I my self to any one but you ; This Boy was faulty once , He stay'd at play , And when He fear'd the lash he run away : Buy if you like him now his faults are told . The dealing 's fair , and he may take your Gold , And ne're be thought a cheat for what He sold . You bought a faulty Rogue , he told you so , And yet you vex him , and unjustly sue . At parting , Sir , I said I was unfit , Grown lazy , impotent , and slow to write : Lest for not Writing You should chide , accuse My silence as unkind , and scorn my Muse ; Ah what did that avail to set me free ! Yet if You sue me , Sir , the Law 's for me . But You complain beside , you say , my Lord ; I promis'd you some Odes , yet break my word . Thro thousand dangers and a world of pain , 2 Lucullus Souldier , who had strove to gain A little mony , what with care he kept , Once tir'd , lost every penny as he slept . Thence He a very Wolf and angry grown Both with himself and Foe rusht boldly on , And with his Teeth as 't were o'rethrew a Town Tho strong and well provided with a Guard , This got him credit , and a large reward ; Soon after when they were to storm a Town The Captain chose out him , and eg'd him on , With such affection , such warm words he prest As might inflame the coldest Coward 's breast : Go where thy Vertue calls , go Conqueror go , Thy Friends shall give rewards , and spoyls thy Foe . But Crafty He reply'd , No Town I 'le force , No Sir , He 'l venture that hath lost his purse . Rome bred me first , she taught me Grammar rules , And all the little Authors red in Schools . A little more than this learn'd Athens show'd , And taught me how to separate Bad from Good ; The Academick Sect possest my Youth , And ' midst their pleasant shades I sought for Truth . But rough Times drove me from my blest retreat , And tost me thro the Troubles of the Great . Tho rude in Arms , and tho well learn'd in fears , The tide yet bore me on to Civil Wars . When those had clipt my wings and brought me down , My small Farm lost , and all my mony gone ; Those with my Shield I left by shameful flight ; Bold Poverty first set me on to write . But now I have enough to keep off want , ( That is as much as Heaven it self can grant ) What Helebore could cure my wild disease , Should I prefer a Muse before my Ease ! On me each circling Year does make a prey , It steals my Humor , and my Mirth away . And now at last would steal my Poems too From my Embrace ; what would You have me do ? Besides not all admire , not all approve One sort ; You Odes , Iambics others love , Others in keenest Satyrs rage delight ; Sharp salt alone can raise their appetite : Methinks I 've three envited to a Feast , A different palate too , to every Guest . What shall , what shall I not provide ? What You Commend and eat , disgusts the other two . Besides , do'st think that I can mind a Song Whilst here at Rome ' midst all the noise and throng . Of different Cares , one beggs me pass my word For him , then I must wait upon my Lord , To hear his Verses , and I must be gone , Leave all my other work and cares alone , And march from one to t'other end of Town " But , Sir , there 's room , the Street is clean and still , " And you may walk and think on what you will. Yes , here a Waggon bears a logg of Wood Or weighty Stone , and groans beneath the Load . Sad Funeral here do justle with a Dray , And there the sweaty Carman bawls for way . Here a Mad Dog , and there a Sow doth fright , Go now ' midst this , and lofty Verses write . Each Writer hates the Town and Woods approves , Right Son of Bacchus pleas'd with shades and groves . Yet ' midst these Tumults You would have me try To trace the narrow steps of Poetry . The Man that takes learn'd Athens close retreat , Who by himself doth study to be great ; When he hath study'd seven full tedious Years , Grown old and grey upon his Books and Cares : Yet after all this time and pains bestow'd , Grows a meer stock , and 's laught at by the Crowd . Then ' midst the Waves and Tempests of the Town , Where Cares do toss and vexing business drown , Can I compose my thoughts , can I aspire , And Joyn fit words to tune the Roman Lyre ? 3. Two Brothers liv'd at Rome , a Lawyer one , And one a Rhetor noted both in Town , Vain glorious both , and studious of a name , They blew their Trumpets to each others Name . They one another did extreamly please ; And are not Poets frantick quite like These ? I Odes , and one writes Elegy ; Divine , A curious work , polisht by all the Nine . See how we strut , and what a port we bear , With what high scorn look , o're the Theater , The other Poets sneak and scarce appear . But if You 've leasure stand aside and know Why each admires and praises t'other so , Why wreath the Crown , and why the Bays bestow . We quarrel , and with equal Fortune fight , True Samnites draw the lingring War till Night . Then strait in his Opinion I 'me divine Alcaeus , well , and what is He in Mine . Callimachus , or would he more ? Mimnermus Fame He gets , and glorys in his borrow'd Name . A Thousand things I suffer to asswage The waspish Poets , and to cool their rage ; Because I write my self , I plead their Cause , I smooth , and humbly beg the Crowds applause ; But when grown sober I shake off my Muse , I 'le stop my Ears , and unless hir'd to hear , refuse : Dull Rhymes are laugh't at , yet we ne're give o're , Our Writers smile , and e'en themselves adore , If you are slow to clap they swear 't is spite , And praise themselves what happy they have writ . 4. But He that hath a curious Piece design'd , When He begins must take a Censor's mind . Severe and honest , and what words appear , Too light and trivial or too weak to bear The weighty sense , nor worth the Readers care , Shake off ; tho stubborn , they are loth to move , And tho we fancy dearly , tho we love . Good words , now grown obscure , bring gently forth , Relieve them from the dark , and show their worth Us'd by the Antients tho consum'd by rage Of eating time , and grown deform'd with Age : And take new words begot by Parent use , Prune the luxuriant , and Correct the loose . Pure , flowing , as a River roul along , And bring new plenty to the Roman Tongue ; Reform , and cut superfluous Branches off ; Strengthen the weaker words , and smooth the rough : Now pain'd , now eas'd , as one that must put on Now wanton Satyrs , now a heavy Clown : Now I had rather be a little Witt , So my dull Verse my own dear self delight , Then know my Faults , be vext , and dy with spight . An Argive Gentleman as Stories say , Did always fancy that he saw a Play , The Actors dress , and well wrought Scenes appear , And clap't and smil'd in th' empty Theater . In all Things else he shew'd a sober Mind , A loving Neighbor and an honest Friend ; Kind to his Wife , and generous to his Slave , Nor when he saw the Barrel broach't would rave . Would shun an open Well , and dangerous Pitts , And seem a perfect Man , and in his Witts , Him when his tender Friends with Cost and Pains Had cur'd , and Physic gently purg'd his Brains , He cry'd , Ah me ! my Friends I am undone , You 've ruin'd me , now all my pleasure 's gone ; You have destroy'd , whilst you design'd to save , Y've lost the pleasant'st Cheat that man could have . 5. 'T is time now to be wise , forsake my Toys , And leave my Verses proper sport for Boys . Not follow Words and Numerous Songs contrive , But seek fit measures , and true rules to live . 6. If what you drink should make your heats increase , Would you not tell the Doctor your disease ? Now when the more you have , you crave the more , When Floods of Store , shall make you thirst for store , Won't you confess and this distemper own ? All this I use to think on when alone . Suppose You had a Wound , and One had show'd An Herb , which you apply'd but found no good , Would You be fond of this , increase your pain , And use the fruitless remedy again ? Thus when You hear on whom kind Heaven bestows Great heaps of Wealth , they streight their folly loose . And yet you cannot find your self more wise , Because more rich , you I follow their advice . Could Wealth with God-like Prudence Minds Inspire , Cure them of vexing Fear , and fond Desire . Then you should blush , if all the World could show , A sober Man , more covetous than You. If that's o●r own , which powerful Coin procures , And Use , as Lawyers say , makes something ours ; The Field that feeds thee 's thine ; rich Orbus ploughs , His Servant that Manures his Land , and Sows , Harrows the fruitful Clod , that must afford Good Corn to Thee , confesses thee his Lord : One pays his Money , and receives agen , Eggs , Pullets , Grapes , or else a flask of Wine . And thus by these degrees the Farm he buys , Bought at three Thousand pound , or at a greater price . Well then , what difference is it whether now , You pay for what you have , or did it long agoe ? Those Purchasers that Veijs Fields have gain'd , And large Aricia's Plains , tho rich in land , Yet even now buy every Herb they eat , They buy each stick of Wood to boyl their Meat . Altho they think not so , and call the Grounds Their own , which yonder friendly Poplar bounds . As if that could be thine , that call'd thy own , Which every Moment's hurry'd up and down , And now to this , and now to 'tother thrown , Which Money , Fraud or Flattery command , And snatch from one , to fill another's Hand : So since perpetual Use to none's allow'd , But Heir crowds Heir , as in a rowling Flood Wave urges Wave , ah what doth it avail , To joyn large Groves to Grove , and Vale to Vale , If Death with equal hand , strikes Great and Small , Death unrelenting , and that never spares , Not to be brib'd with Gold , or won by Tears : Gold , Jewels , Statues , Marble , Ivory , Paint , Cloth of Gold , and Suits of pretious dye , Gay Purple , Silver , some are wont to crave , Yet cannot get , and some don't care to have . Why of two Twins , the one his Pleasure loves , Prefers his Sports to Herod's fragrant Groves ; The other rich , and greedy of his Gain , With Fire and Iron tames his woody Plain , He drives the heavy Plough from Morn till Night , His Labour 's pleasure , and his Pain delight : That Genius only knows , that 's wont to wait , On birth-day Stars , the guider of our Fate , Our Nature's God , that doth his Influence shed , Easy to any Shape , or good or bad : When Natures wants require , I will be free , Nor care what my bold heir will think of me , I 'le use my little Heap , tho he be griev'd , Because I leave no more than I receiv'd , Yet I the same would know , what difference lyes Between free spending , and loose squandring vice , And how far Thrift's remov'd from Avarice . For sure it differs much to wast our Store , And to spend freely , and not strive for more : And as i' th' five days feast , of old , the Boy , Take the short Sweets , and as in hast enjoy . I am not rich , nor do I gape for more , But let me not be scandalously poor , And let my Ship be great , or be it small , If I the same , the very , I can sail . EPISTLE III. To the Pisones , or the Art of Poetry . SUppose a Painter should a Canvas spread , To draw a Piece , and paint a Womans head , Then a Mares neck ; and then from different things , Take different Parts , and cover all with Wings : Then a Fish tail ; pursue his senseless thought , And mix the whole Creation in a draught , And all these Parts in strange proportion joyn , Would you not laugh to see this wild Design ? Believe me , Sirs , that Book is like this Piece , Where every Part so strangely disagrees , Like sick Mens Dreams , there 's neither head nor tail , But strange Confusion , shapeless Monsters all : Poets and Painters equally may dare , In bold Attempts , they claim an equal share , And may do any thing : All this we know , This freedom too , we mutually allow ; And yet this leave can give no just pretence , To fight the steddy Rules of Common Sense , And joyn quite Opposites , the Wild and Tame ; The Snake and Dove , the Lion and the Lamb. Next great Beginnings , and in high Designs , Some scatter here and there few gawdy lines , Which glister finely , when a Grove's their Theme , A pleasant wood , or else a purling Stream : How with the Flood , their Fancies smoothly flow ! How variously they paint the Heavenly Bow ! But now perhaps none of these Themes agree , Perhaps thou hast some skill to paint a Tree , But what of that ? what will this Art perform ? Wert thou to draw a Shipwrack , or a Storm , Describe a Mariner , how with panting breath , He blows the Floods , and keeps out entring Death ; Whilst with one hand despairing Life he saves , The other grasps his Riches on the Waves ? When you a mighty Butt resolv'd to cast , Why doth it dwindle to a Pint at last ? In short , in all you write let Art controul , And keep the same just Tenor thro the whole . But Sirs , most Poets now are finely caught , By show of right deluded to a fault : By striving to be short , obscure they grow ; And when they would be smooth , they sink too low ; Their Spirits fail : and some that would be high , Streight swell ; and when they should but walk , they fly : Whilst some too cautious fear the Winds will roar , And waters toss ; nor dare to leave the Shore . Another Staring fancy wildly roves , And placeth Bores in Floods , and Trouts in Groves : Thus , if it wants just Art , a cautious Fear Of Erring is a certain way to Err. That Graver yonder in th' Emilian Square , Can hit the Nails , or imitate the hair , But he 's a Sot , unhappy in his Art ; Because he cannot fashion every part , And make the whole compleat ; should I compose , I 'de rather freely choose an ugly nose With two black Eyes , black hair exactly trim , To make me more deform'd , than be like him . You Writers try the vigor of your Muse , And what her strength will bear , and what refuse , And after that an equal Subject choose . For he that doth this well , and chuses right , His Method will be clear , his Words be fit . In this , or I mistake , consists the grace , And force of Method , to assign a place , For what must now , what by and by be said , What for the present time must be delaid ; What Thoughts they must improve , what Notions slight , If they will aim at praise in all they write . Be cautious in your Words , invent but few , We 're puzled rather , than we 're pleas'd with new : Yet 't will be Art , and 't will procure thee praise , If well apply'd , and in a handsome Phrase , You make new Words seem easy , plain , and known : We all will clap , and cry 't was bravely done . But if you would unheard of things express ; And cloath new Notions in a Modern dress ; Invent new Words , we can indulge a Muse , Until the Licence rise to an Abuse : And those are best , that do but gently fall , Just vary'd from the Greek Original : For why should Varius , why should Virgil be deny'd , What Plautus and Cecilius wisely did ? And for what reason should the Fops resent , If I but few , and modestly invent . When Cato's Stile and Ennius lofty Song , With various store enrich't our Mother Tongue , 'T was still allow'd , and 't will be still allow'd , To make new Words , plain to be understood : As Leaves on Trees do with the turning Year , The former fall , and others will appear ; Just so it is in Words , one Word will rise , Look green , and flourish , when another dyes . All We , and Ours , are in a changing State , Just Nature's Debt and must be paid to Fate : Great Caesar's Mole , that braves the furious Tides , Where now secure from Storms , his Navy rides : E'en that drain'd Lake , where former Ages row'd , A great unfruitful Wast , tho now 't is plough'd , Bears Corn , and sends the neighbouring Citys food : Those new Canales , that bound fierce Tiber's force , That teach the Streams to take a better Course , And spare the Plough-man's hopes : e'en these must waste , Then how can feeble Words pretend to last ? Some words that have , or else will feel decay , Shall be restor'd , and come again in play , And words now fam'd , shall not be fancy'd long , They shall not please the Ear , or move the Tongue : As Use shall these approve , and those condemn , Use the sole Rule of Speech , and Judg supreme . How we should write of Battles , Wars and Kings , And suit with mighty Numbers , mighty Things , First Homer show'd , and by Example taught , He wrote as nobly , as his Heroes fought : In Verses long and short , Grief first appear'd , In those they mourn'd past Ills , and future fear'd : But soon these lines with Mirth and Joy were fill'd , And told when Fortune , or a Mistriss smil'd : But who these Measures was the first that wrote , The Criticks doubt , and cannot end the doubt : Archilochus was arm'd , by injur'd Rage , With keen Iambicks , He did first engage With that sharp foot , and left it to the Stage ; For 't is a sounding Foot , and full of force , And fit , as made on purpose , for discourse : In Lyrick numbers Gods , and Heroe's sound , The swiftest Horse is prais'd or Wrestler crown'd : Feasts , Wine , and open Mirth , or Myrtle Shades , The Cares of Love , or Tears of sighing Maids . Unless all Matters I exactly hit , What just Pretence have I to be a Wit ? What claim have I to the Poetick Name ? What fair Pretensions to put in for Fame ? Or why should I conceal my want of Skill , Absurdly modest , and be foolish still , Rather than show my Want , demand Supplies , From richer Parts , and so at last be Wise ? A Conick Story hates a Tragick Stile , Bombast spoyls humer , and distorts a Smile : And Tragical Thyestes barbarous Feast , Scorns Mean and Common words , and hates a Jest ; Let every Subject have what fits it best : Yet Comedy may be allow'd to rise , And rattle in a Passion or Surprize ; And Tragedy in humble words must weep , The Stile must suppliant seem , and seem to creep : Peleus and Telephus exil'd and poor , Must leave their Flights , and give their Bombast o're ; If they would keep their well-pleas'd Audience long , And raise their just Resentments for their wrong : 'T is not enough , that Plays are neatly wrought , Exactly form'd , and of an even Plot , They must be taking too , Surprise , and Seize , And force our Souls which way the Writers please . We laugh or weep , as we see others do , Our Souls agree , and take their Passions too : My grief with others just proportion bears , To make me weep , you must be first in Tears : Then Telephus I can believe thy moan , And think thy Miseries are all my own : But if thy part be ill , or acted ill , Unheeding thy Complaint , I sleep or smile : Sad words suit well with Grief , with Joy the loose , Grave the Severe , and Merry the Jocose : 'T is Nature still that doth the Change begin , She fashions , and she forms our Souls within , To all the Changes , and the Turns of Fate ; Now screws our Minds to an unusual height , And swells us into rage ; or bending low , She cramps our Souls with dull contracting Woe ; She makes us stoop beneath a weighty wrong , Then tells the various Passions with the Tongue : Now if his Speech doth not his Fortune fit , He will be hist by Gallery , Box , and Pit. You must take care , and use quite different words , When Servants speak , or their commanding Lords , When grave old Men , or head-strong Youths discourse , When stately Matrons , or a busy Nurse ; A cheating Tradesman , or a labouring Clown , A Greek or Asian , bred at Court or Town : Keep to old Tales , or if you must have new , Feign things coherent , that may look like true : If you would draw * Achilles in disgrace , Then draw Achilles , as Achilles was ; Impatient , fierce , inexorable , proud , His Sword his Law , his own right hand his God : Medea must be furious , she must rave : Crafty Ixion a designing Knave ; Io a wandring Cow , and Ino sad : And poor Orestes melancholy mad : But if you 'l leave those Paths where most have gone , And dare to make a Person of your own , Take care you still the same proportions strike , Let all the Parts agree , and be alike : Unusual Subjects , Sir 't is hard to hit , It asks no common Pains , nor common Wit , Rather on Subjects known your Mind employ , And take from Homer some old tales of Troy , And bring those usual things again in view , Than venture on a Subject wholly new : Yet you may make these common Themes your own , Unless you treat of things too fully known ; Show the same humors , and that usual State , Or word for word too faithfully translate ; Or else your Pattern so confin'dly choose , That you are still condemn'd to follow close , Or break all decent measures to be loose : First strain no higher , than your voice will hold , Nor as that * Cyclick writer did of old , Begin my mighty Muse , and boldly dare , I 'le sing great Priam 's Fate , and noble War. What did He worth a Gape so large produce ? The travailing Mountain yields a silly Mouse . Much better Homer , who doth all things well , Muse tell the Man , for you can surely tell , Who , Troy once fall'n , to many Countrys went , And strictly view'd the Men , and Government . As one that knows the Laws of writing right , He makes Light follow Smoak , not Smoak the Light ; For streight , how fierce Charybdis rolls along ! How Scylla roars thro all his wondrous Song ! Nor doth He , that He might seem deeply read , Begin the fam'd Return of Diomed , From Meleager's death ; nor dives as far , As Leda's Eggs , For the beginning of the Trojan War : He always hastens on to the Events , And still the middle of the Tale presents , As 't were the first , then draws the Reader on , Till the whole Story is exactly known , And what he can't improve he lets alone . And so joyns Lyes and Truth , that every part agrees , And seem no Fiction , but a real Piece : But Sir , observe ; ( shame waits on the neglect , ) This I , and all , as well as I , expect , If you would have a judging Audience stay , Be pleas'd , and clap , and sit out all the Play : Observe what Humor in each Age appears , Then draw your fit , and lively Characters , And suit their changing Minds , and Changing Years . A Boy that just speaks plain , and goes alone , Loves childish Play-mates , he is angry soon , And pleas'd as soon : and both for nothing still , Changing his Humor , various is his Will : A Youth just loosned from his Tutor's care , Leaves off his Books , and follows Hound and Hare ; The Horse is his delight , or Cards and Dice , Rough to reproof , and easy bent to Vice : Inconstant , eager , haughty , fierce and proud ; A very slow provider for his good , And prodigal of his Coin , and of his Blood. The full grown Man , doth aim at different ends , He betters his Estate , and gets him Friends ; He courts gay Honor , and He fears to do , What he must alter on a second view : An Old man's Character is hit with ease , For he is pettish , and all one Disease : Still covetous , and still he gripes for more , And yet he fears to use his present Store : Slow , long in Hope , still eager to live on , And fond of no mans Judgment but his own : On Youths gay frolicks peevishly severe , And oh when He was young , what Times they were ! The Flow of Life brings in a wealthy Store , The Ebb draws back , what e're was brought before , And leaves a barren Sand , and naked Shore . And therefore when you represent a Youth , Lest you draw lines , that fit a Man of growth ; Observe the just decorum of the Stage , And show those Humors still that suit the Age : For otherwise 't will seem as fond and wild , As 't is to clap a beard upon a Child : What e're a Play can comprehend , is shown Upon the open Stage , or told alone ; Things only told , tho of the same degree , Do raise our Passions less than what we see : For the Spectator takes in every part , The Ey 's the faithfull'st Servant to the Heart : Yet do not every Part too freely shew , Some bear the telling , better than the view : Things wild or cruel do displease the Eyes , And yet when only told , the same surprise ; Medea must not draw her murdering Knife , And on the Stage attempt her Childrens life : Nor Progne fly transform'd into a Fowl , Nor Hecuba turn'd Bitch begin to howl : Nor Cadmus there his snaky folds advance , I hate such wild improbable Romance : The Play that you design should often please , Must have five Acts , and neither more nor less ; No God appear to mend an ill-wrought Scene , Unless some weighty Cause shall force him in : To crowd the Stage , is odious and absurd , Let no fourth Actor strive to speak a word . The Chorus must supply an Actors place , And take his Part , this gives a natural Grace ; Lest any thing between the Acts should seem , Not fitly suited to the common Theme : Let him commend the Good , and Friends and Ease , Praise wholsome Justice , and love open Peace : Tame Passion , all mens Thoughts to vertue win , And cherish those that are afraid to sin : Extenuate Faults , and pray to mighty God , That Fate would raise the Poor , and sink the Proud : The Pipe of old , was not as large as now , Nor gather'd all the Breath a Man could blow : It 's hollow , small , and fill'd with feeble wind , It cheer'd the Audience with the Chorus joyn'd ; Not made of Brass , nor like the Trumpet loud , With pleasing Airs it fill'd the little Croud : For then this new delight was known to few , And you could number those that came to view . No wanton Luxury did taint the Stage , But that was mean , and modest as the Age. But when strange Nations felt our Conquering hand , When Rome enlarg'd the bounds of her Command , When statelier Walls , she did begin to raise , And Mirth , and Wine , & sport imploy'd our Days , The modish Luxury spread o're the Plays : For what could please so mixt , ill-matcht a Crowd , Where Citt and Clown were mixt , the Learn'd and Rude , As senseless as the Ox with which he plough'd ? Hence did our Musick , and our Songs increase , Our Dance was artful , noble was our Dress : Our Harps improv'd , and lofty Eloquence , In high strong Lines convey'd unusual Sence : And pithy Sentences short Truth fore-show'd , As clear and useful as the Delphian God : The Men that first did strive in Tragedies , When a mean Goat was all the Conquerors prize ; Brought Satyrs naked in , or loosely drest , And though still grave , would venture at a Jest : This was the Bait to bribe the Crowd to stay , When Drunk and Wanton , and sit out the Play. Yet Satyrs should observe this decent Rule , And so turn serious things to Ridicule ; As not to bring a God or Hero down , Or make a Person grac'd with Robe and Crown , Talk common Talk , and sink into a Clown : Or whilst he doth affect a lofty hight , Fly up in bombast , and soar out of sight : For Tragedy too high to stoop to Jest , ( As Matrons dancing at a solemn Feast , Keep decent Steps ) it different will appear , From wanton Satyrs , modestly severe : Yet bitter Words , and domineering Phrase , Is not the thing that I in Satyrs praise : Nor would I have the Difference drawn too far , And free the Satyrs from the Tragicks ear ; They must not make all Persons talk alike , The Citty Vallet , and the Country Dick ; The Chamber-maid grown impudently bold , When she has bob'd the Lecher of his Gold : The down-right Farmer , and the dowdy Sot , Or else the brisk Companion o're his Pot : I 'le take a Common Theme , and yet excell , Tho any Man may hope to write as well ; Yet let him try , and He shall sweat in vain , Idle his Labor , fruitless prove the Pain : So great the force of Art and Method seems , So much we may improve the Common Themes : Be sure you never make a Satyr sport , And talk , and dance , and jest , as bred at Court ; But let him speak , as if in Woods he spoke , And lately taken from his Mother Oak : Yet never make him wantonly absurd , Nor let him slyly drop one bawdy Word : For all our Nobles hate such filthy Wit , They scorn to bear such Words , the choice delight Of sottish Tradesmen , and the foolish Citt. A foot , one long , one short , Iambus nam'd ; Of which those measures , those so justly fam'd , Call'd Trimeter Iambick lines , are fram'd ; When just six Feet , and when thro all the Song , The self same measure 's kept , one short , one long : This Foot to make the Cadence more severe , And with a graver touch salute the Ear , Receding somewhat from her natural right , The graver Spondy kindly did admit , Yet so as to forbid it to be put , Or in the fourth , or in the second Foot : Yet this is seldom seen in the sublime , High Accius verse , or Ennius noble rhyme : And yet in this some show their want of Skill , And make their Verses scandalously ill : And whilst their sounding Rhymes transgress this Rule , The wretched Actor's hist , and thought a fool . It is not every Judg knows what 's amiss , And Rome is too indulgent to her Sons in this : What then ? Shall I be loose ? Neglect my Rules , In hopes to find my Judges senseless fools ? To beg an Alms which they can choose to grant , Shall I submit to voluntary want ? Or rather think , that all my Faults will spy , And safe within mine own perfection ly , Nor need that pardon which they can deny ? For make the best on 't , I avoid the shame , I am'nt discover'd , yet deserve no Fame : Read o're the Greeks by day , digest at night , For those are Standards , and just Rules of Wit : 'T is true , as I have heard , the former times Clapt Plautus wanton and uneven Rhymes ; With too much Patience both , ( to say no more And call it folly ) those our Fathers bore : Some think this harsh , but 't is approv'd by you Learn'd Sir , and I am sure the Censure 's true , If you and I know what is just and fit , Are skill'd in Cadence , and distinguish right , Between dull Bawdry , and facetious Wit : Thespis the first , that did surprize the Age With Tragedy , n'ere trod a decent Stage : But in a Waggon drove his Plays about , And show'd mean antick tricks to please the Rout ; His Songs uneven , rude in every Part , His Actors smutted , and the Scene a Cart : Next Aeschilus did greater Art express , He built a Stage , and taught them how to dress ; In decent motions He his Parts convey'd , And made them look as great , as those they play'd : Next these Old Comedy did please the Age , But soon their Liberty was turn'd to Rage ; Such Rage , as Civil Power was forc'd to tame , And by good Laws secure Mens injur'd Fame : Thus was the Chorus lost , Their railing Muse Grew silent , when forbidden to abuse . Our Latin Poets eager after Praise , Have boldly ventur'd , and deserv'd the Bays : They left those Paths , where all the Greeks have gone , And dar'd to show some Actions of their own : And vvould our Poets be inur'd to pain , And vvhat they once have form'd , file o're again ; Let it lie by them , Cand revise vvith are , Our Rome vvould be as fam'd , for Wit as War : Sirs , damn those Rhymes that hasty Minds do give , E're Time and Care have form'd them fit to live ; Let many a Day , and many a Blot confine , And many a Nail be par'd o're every Line : Because Democritus once fondly taught , ( Who ever heard He had one sober Thought ) That naked Nature with a frantick start , Would Rhyme more luckyly than feeble Art ; And did allow none leave to tast a drop Of Helicon , unless a crazy Fop : The foppish humor now o're most prevails , And few will shave their Beards or pair their Nails ; They shun Converse , and fly to Solitude , Seem frantick Sots , and are design'dly rude : For if they go but nasty , if they gain The reputation of a crazy Brain , Streight Poets too , they must be thought by all ; Oh Block-head I that purge at Spring and Fall ! For else perhaps I had been fam'd for Rhymes , And been the greatest Poet of the Times : But I had rather keep that Sense I have , Than to be thought a Poet , Rhyme and Rave : I 'le play the Whet stone , useless and unfit To cut my self , I 'le sharpen others Wit , Unwriting I will teach them how to write : What gives them Matter , what exalts their Thoughts , And what are Ornaments , and what are Faults ? Of writing well these are the chiefest Springs , To know the Nature , and the use of Things : Right judging Morals will the Subject show , And when the Subject 's found , Words freely flow : He that can tell what Care our injur'd Fame , And what our Mothers , what our Sisters claim ; With what degrees of Zeal we should defend , Our Country , Fathers , Brothers , or a Friend , What suits a Senator's , what a Judge's care , What Soldier 's , what a Leader's in the War : Secure of Honor he may boldly write , For he is sure to draw the Image right : 'T is my advice , let every Painter place , The Life before him that will hit the Face : So let a Writer look o're Men , to see What various Thoughts to various Kinds agree ; And thence the different Images derive , And make the fit Expressions seem to live : A Play exactly drawn , tho often rough , Without the Dress of Art to set it off , Takes People more , and more delight affords , Than noisy Trifles , and meer empty Words . The Muses lov'd the Greeks , and blest with Sense , They freely gave them Wit , and Eloquence ; In those They did Heroick fancies raise , For they were covetous of nought but Praise ; But as for Us , our Roman Youths are bred To Trades , to cast Account , to Write and Read : Come hither , Child , ( suppose 't is Albine's Son ) Hold up thy Head ; take five from forty one , And what remains ? just thirty six : well done . Add seven , what makes it then ? just forty eight : Ah thou must be a Man of an Estate ! And when this care for Gain all thoughts controuls , When this base Rust hath crusted o're their Souls ; Ne're think that such will reach a noble hight , These clogs must check , these weights retard their flight : Poets would profit , or delight alone , Or joyn both Profit and Delight in one : Let all your Rules be short , laid plainly down ; That docil Minds may comprehend them soon , And faithful Memories retain with ease , Short Precepts profit much , as well as please : For when we fill the narrow Mind too full , It runs again out of the o're-charg'd Soul : Besure what ever pleasant Tales you tell , Be so like Truth , that they may serve as well : And do not Lamias eating Children feign , Then show them whole , and make them live again : Our grave Men scorn the loose and meer jocose ; Our Youth despise the stiff and the morose : But He 's the Man , He with a Genius writes That takes them Both , and profits and delights : That in one Line instructs and pleases all ; That Book will easily be set to sale , See distant Countrys , spread the Author's name , And send him down a Theme to future Fame : Yet there are Faults , and Men may sometimes Err ; And I 'le forgive , I 'le not be too severe . An Artist allways can't command his Harp , But when he strikes a Flat , He hears a Sharp : The greatest Archers sometimes miss the Whites , If numerous Graces shine in what he writes , I 'le not condemn tho some few Faults appear , Which common frailty leaves , or want of Care : But if tho warn'd He still repeats the same , Who can endure , and who forbear to blame ? Just as that Fidler must be call'd a Sot , That always errs upon the self same Note : So He that makes a Book one copious fault , As Cherilus , the greatest Dunce that ever wrote , In whom if e're I see two lines of Wit , I smile , and wonder at the lucky hit : But fret to find the mighty Homer dream , Forget himself a-while , and lose his Theme : Yet if the work be long , sleep may surprize , And a short Nod creep o're the watchfull'st Eyes : Poems like Pictures , some when near delight , At distance some , some ask the clearest light ; And some the shade ; some Pictures please when new , And some when old ; some bear a transient view ; Some bid the Men of Skill severely pry , Some please but once , some always please the Eye : But you , dear Sir , tho you your self are wise , Tho by your Father's care , and kind advice Secure from Faults , yet pray believe me this : In other things a Mean may be allow'd , Not Best may still be tolerable good : A Common Lawyer , though he cannot plead Like smooth Messala , nor 's so deeply read As learn'd Casselius , yet the Man may please , Yet He may be in vogue , and get his Fees : But now the Laws of God and Man deny A middle State , and Mean in Poetry , For as at Treats , or as at noble Feasts , Bad Perfumes , and bad Songs displease the Guests ; Because the Feast did not depend on these , So Poetry , a thing design'd to please , Compos'd for meer delight , must needs be still Or very good , or scandalously ill : He that 's unskilful will not toss a Ball , Nor run , nor wrestle for He fears the fall ; He justly fears to meet deserv'd disgrace , And that the Ring will hiss the baffled Ass : But every one can Rhyme , He 's fit for that ; Why not ? I 'me sure he hath a good Estate , And that may give him just pretence to write , It makes a Poet , as it dubs a Knight : But you , Sir , know your self , will wisely choose , And still consult the Genius of your Muse ; And yet when e're you write , let every line Pass thro your Fathers , Mecca's Ears or mine : Keep it long by you , and improve it still , For then you may correct what e're you will : But nought can be recall'd when once 't is gone , It grows the Publick's , 't is no more your own : Fame says , Inspired Orpheus first began To sing Gods Laws , and make them known to Man ; Their fierceness softned show'd them wholesom food , And frighted all from lavvless Lust and Blood ; And therefore Fame hath told , his charming Lute Could tame a Lion , and correct a Brute : Amphion too , ( as Story goes ) could call Obedient Stones to make the Theban Wall ; He led them as he pleas'd , the Rocks obey'd , And danc't in order to the Tunes he play'd : T vvas then the vvork of Verse to make Men vvise , To lead to Vertue , and to fright from Vice : To make the Savage , Pious , Kind and Just ; To curb wild Rage , and bind unlavvful Lust ; To build Societys , and force confine , This vvas the noble , this the first Design ; This vvas their Aim , for this they tun'd their Lute , And hence the Poets got their first repute : Next Homer and Tyrte did boldly dare , To whet brave Minds and lead the stout to War : In verse their Oracles the Gods did give , In verse we were instructed how to live : Verse recommends Us to the Ears of Kings , And easeth Minds when clog'd with serious things ; And therefore , Sir , Verse may deserve your care , Which Gods inspire , and Kings delight to hear . Now some dispute to which the greatest part A Poem owes , to Nature , or to Art ; But faith , to speak my thoughts , I hardly know , What witless Art , or Artless Wit can do : Each by it self is vain I 'me sure , but joyn'd Their force is strong ; each proves the others friend : The Man that is resolv'd the Prize to gain , Doth often run , and take a world of pain ; Bear Heat and Cold , his growing strength improve , Nor tast the Joys of Wine , nor Sweets of Love : The good Musician too that 's fam'd for Song , Hath con'd his Tune , and fear'd his Master long : But amongst Poets 't is enough to say , Faith I can write an admirable Play , Pox take the hindmost , I am foremost still , And tho 't is great , conceal his want of skill : As Tradesmen call in Folks to buy their Ware , Good Penny-worths , the best in all the Fair ; So wealthy Poets when they read their Plays , Get Flatterers in , for they are paid for Praise : And faith a Man that has a good Estate , That can oblige a Friend , and nobly Treat , Be Surety for the Poor , his Cause defend , Shall never know a Flatterer from a Friend : If you have been , or promis'd to be kind To any one , whilst joy perverts his Mind Ask not his Judgment , for He 'l streight consent , And cry t is good , 't is rare , 't is Excellent ; Grow pale , and weep , and stamp , at every line , Oh Lord ! 't is more than Man , 't is all Divine ! As Hired Mourners at the Grave will howl , Much more than those that grieve with all their Soul , Thus Friends appear less mov'd than Counterfeits , And Flatterers out-do , and show their Cheats : Kings ( thus says Story ) that of old design'd , To raise a Favourite to a Bosome Friend ; Did ply him hard with wine , unmaskt his thoughts , And saw him Naked , and with all his Faults : So when you write , take heed what Friend you have , And fear the Smiles of a designing Knave : Let good Quintilius all your lines revise , And he will freely say , mend this and this ; Sir I have often try'd , and try'd again , I 'me sure I can't do better , 't is in vain : Then blot out every word , or try once more , And file these ill turn'd Verses o're and o're : But if you seem in love with your own Thought , More eager to defend than mend your Fault , He says no more , but lets the Fop go on , And Rival-sree admire his lovely own : An honest Judg will blame each idle line , And tell you , you must make the Cloudy shine ; Show you what Words are harsh , blot out the rough , And cut the useless gawdy painting off : Look thro your Faults with an impartial Eye , And tell you what you must correct , and why : Critique indeed , nor say , shall I displease My honest Friend for such small Toys as these ? These Toys will once to serious mischiefs fall , When He is laught at , when He 's jeer'd by all : For more than Mad or Poxt Men hate the Dull , And swiftly fly the senseless rhyming Fool : And fear to touch him , Men of Sense retire , The Boys abuse , and only Fools admire : Suppose he fir'd with his Poetick flame , Just as a Fowler eager on his Game , Doth fall into a Pit , and bawls aloud , And calls for pitty to the laughing Crowd ; He may bawl on , for all will stand and flout , And not one lend an hand to help him out ; But yet if any should ; what ? was 't design , Or else meer Chance , pray Sir , that threw him in ? I 'le tell my Reasons , and in short relate , A poor Sicilian Poet's wretched Fate : Empedocles must needs be thought a God , And therefore in a melancholly Mood , Leapt into Aetna's Flames : let Poets have The Priviledg to hang , and None to save ; For 't is no greater cruelty to kill , Than 't is to save a Man against his Will : Nor was it Chance the heedless Fool betray'd , Nor the strange efforts of a crazy head ; For draw him out , restore his life again , He would not be content to be a Man , He would be eager to be thought divine , And gladly burn in Hopes to gain a Shrine : Now 't is not known for what notorious Crime , These brainless Fellows are condemn'd to Rhyme ; Whether they piss'd upon their Fathers Grave , Or rob'd a Shrine ; 't is certain that they rave ; And like wild Bears if once they break their Den , And can get loose , worry all sorts of Men ; Their killing Rhymes they barbarously obtrude , And make all fly , the Learn'd , as well as Rude : But then to those they seize , They still reherse , And murder the poor Wretches with their Verse ; They Rhyme and Kill , a cursed murd'ring Brood , Like Leeches , sucking still , till full of Blood. FINIS . A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS Printed for Jacob Tonson at the Judges-Head in Chancery-Lane . 1684. PLutarch 's first Volume , newly Translated from the Greek . Plutarch Written by Mr. Dryden . Theseus , Translated by Mr. Duke . Romulus , Mr. Smallwood . Lycurgus , Mr. Chetwood . Numa Pompilius , Mr. Ricaut . Solon , Mr. Creech . Poplicola Mr. Dodswell . Themistocles , Dr. Brown. Furius Camillus , Mr. Pain . Pericles , Dr. Littleton . Fabius Maximus , Mr. Carryl . Plutarch's second Volume , newly Translated from the Greek . Alcibiades Coriolanus , Translated by Dr. Bloomer . Paulus Emilius , Mr. Arrowsmith . Timoleon , Dr. Bloomer . Pelopidas , Mr. Creech . Marcellus , Dr. Charlton . Aristides , Mr. Cooper . Marcus Cato , Mr. Lydcot , Philopemen . Dr. Short Titus Flaminius , Mr. Whitaker . Plutarch 's Third Volume newly Translated from the Greek . Pyrrhus , Translated by Dr. Cru . Caius Marius , Mr. Stapleton . Lysander , Mr. Leman . Sylla , Mr. Davis . Cimon , Mr. Morgan . Lucullus , Mr. Thornburgh . Nicias , Mr. Rimer . Crassus , Mr. Amhurst . Eumenes . Sertorius , Dr. Brown. The Fourth and Fifth Volumes of Plutarch , Translated by several eminent Hands , are now in the Press , and will with all possible speed be Published . Remarks upon a Tract Intituled , a Treatise of Humane Reason , and upon Mr. Warren 's late defence of it ; by Sir George Blundell . A Critical History of the Old Testament , in three Books : The first treating at large concerning the several Authors of the Bible : The second , containing the History of the chief Translations of the Bible , made either by Jews or Christians . The third , laying down Rules whereby a more Exact Translation may be made of the Scripture than hitherto has been , Written Originally by Father Simon of the Oratory . With a suppliment , being a defence of the Critical History in answer to Mr. Spanhem 's Treatise against it : both Translated into English by H. D. Poems upon several occasions with a Voyage to the Island of Love by Mrs. A. Behn . Ovids Epistles Englished by the Earl of Mulgrave Sir Car. Scrope , Mr. Dryden . and several other Eminent hands . Divine Contemplations upon the Life of our Saviour , Written by the Bishop of Exceter . A Chronicle of France from the beginning of that Kingdom ; Written by Monsieur Mezeray , Chronologer to the present French King. The first part of the Institutes of the Laws of England or a Commentary upon Littleton , By Sir Edward Coke K t. Theninth Edition carefully corrected with an Alphabetical Table . To this Edition is added two Learned Tracts of the same Author ; the first his Reading upon the 27 of Edward the first , Entituled The Statute of Levying Fines ; and the second , of Bail and Mainprise . The Lord Cokes Reports , in French and English — The Reports by the Lord Chief Justice Vaughn in Engl. Hettly's Reports — Dalton's Justice of Peace — Dalton's Sheriffs — Shepard's Abridgment of the Law. Brown's Entries , in 2 Parts — Miscellaneous Poems , containing a New Translation of Virgil's Ecologues , Ovid's Love Elegies , Odes of Horace , and other Authors ; with several Original Poems by the most Eminent hands . The Works of Horace , Translated into English by Mr. Creech of Oxford , are now in the Press and near Printed . Now in the Press . The Decay of the Western Empire , Translated out of French. Will speedily be Published . The History of the League , Written in French by Monsieur Maimburgh , Translated into English uppon his Majesties Command by Mr. Dryden . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A44471-e109800 * I read , scripta ; in honoratum , &c. * Scriptor Cyclicus is not , as usually thought , Scriptor Circumforaneus , but the same with what the Greeks call'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , of whom see Langbain in his Notes on Longinus .