CERTAIN ELEGIES, DONE BY SUNDRY Excellent Wits.  
WITH satires and Epigrams.  
LONDON, Printed by B: A: for Miles Partriche, and are to be sold at his shop near Saint Dunston's Church in Fleetstreet. 1618.   

An Elegy by F. B.  
SO Madam may my verses pleasing be,  
So may you laugh at them, and not at me.  
'tis something to you I would gladly say,  
But how to do it, cannot find the way:  
I would avoid the common trodden ways,  
To Ladies used, which be or love or praise:  
As for the first, that little wit I have,  
Is not yet grown so near unto the grave,  
But that I can by that dim-fading light.  
Perceive of what, and unto whom I write:  
Let such as in a hopeless, witless rage,  
Can sigh a choir, and read it to a page,  
Such as can make ten Sonnets ere they rest,  
When each is but a a great blot at the best,  
Such (as) can backs of books, and windows fill,  
With their (too furious Diamond and Quill)  
Such as are well resolved to end their days,  
With a loud laughter blown behind the Sea:  
Such as are mortified, that they can live,  
Laughed at by all the world, and yet forgive,  
Write love to you, I would not willingly,  
Be pointed at in every company,  
As was that little Tailor, who till death  
Was hot in love with Queen Elizabeth.  
And for my last, in all my living days,  
I never yet did living creature praise,  
In verse, not prose, and when I do begin,  
I'll pick some woman out, as full of sin,  
As you are full of virtue, with a soul  
As black as yours is white, a face as foul,  
As yours is beautiful, for it shall be  
Out of the rules of Physiognomy.  
So far, that I do fear, I must displace,  
The art a little, to let in the face.  
It shall at least four faces be below,  
The Devils and her parched corpses shall show  
In her loose skin, as if some spirit she were,  
Kept in a bag, by some great conjuror:  
Her breath shall be as horrible and wild,  
As every word you speak is sweet and mild:  
It shall be such a one, as will not be,  
Covered with any art or policy.  
But let her take all waters, fumes and drink,  
She shall make nothing but a dearer stink.  
She shall have such a face, and such a nose,  
As will not stand in any thing but prose:  
If I bestow my praises upon such,  
'tis Charity, and I shall merit much,  
My praise will come to her like a full bowl,  
Bestowed at most need on a thirsty soul,  
Where if I sing your praises in my rhyme,  
I lose my ink, my paper and my time,  
Add nothing to your ever flowing store,  
And tell you noughts but what you knew before,  
Nor do the virtuous minded, which I swear  
Madam, I think you are, delight to hear  
Their own perfections into question brought,  
But stop their ears at them, for if I thought  
You took a pride, to have your virtues known,  
(Pardon me Madam) I should think them none,  
But if your brave thoughts (which I must respect  
Above your glorious titles) shall accept  
These harsh disordered lines, I shall ere long  
Dress up your virtues new, in a new song:  
Yet far from all base praise of flattery.  
Although I know what ere my verses be,  
They will like the most servile flattery show,  
If I write truth, and make my subject you.  Fr. Beau:  

An Elegy on the Lady Penelope Clifton. By M. Dr.  
MVst I needs write, who's he that can refuse '  
He wants a mind for her that hath no Muse  
The thought of her doth heavenly rage inspire.  
Next powerful to those cloven tongues of fire,  
Since I knew aught, time never did allow,  
Me stuff fit for an Elegy till now.  
When France and England's Henries died my quill,  
Why I know not, but it that while lay still,  
'tis more than greatness that my spirit must raise,  
To observe custom I use not to praise,  
Nor the least thought of mine yet ere depended  
On any one from whom she was descended,  
That for their favour I this way should woo,  
As some poor wretched thing perhaps may do.  
I gain the end whereat I only aim,  
If by my freedom I may give her fame ●  
Walking then forth, being newly up from bed,  
(Oh) Sir quoth one, the Lady Clifron's dead,  
When but that reason my stern rage withstood,  
My hand had sure been guilty of his blood.  
If she be so, must thy rude tongue confess it,  
And comest thou too so coldly to express it.  
Thou shouldst have given a shriek to make me fear  
That might have slain what ever had been near th●  
Thou shouldst have come like Time with thy scalp  
And in both hands thou shouldst have brought t●  
Casting upon me such a dreadful look,  
As seen a spirit, or thou'dst been thunder stroo●  
And gazing on me so a little space,  
Thou shouldst have shot thine eyeballs in my fa●  
Then falling at my feet thou shouldst have said,  
(Oh) she is gone, and Nature with her dead.  
With this ill news amazed, by chance I passed  
By that near grove, whereas both first and last  
I saw her, not three months before she died,  
When though full summer 'gan to vail her pride  
And that I saw men lead home ripened corn,  
Besides advised me well, I durst have sworn,  
The lingering year the Autumn had reiourned,  
And the fresh spring had been again returned,  
Her delicacy, loveliness and grace,  
With such a summer bravery decked the place,  
But now alas it looked forlorn and dead,  
And where she stood the fading leaves were she  
Presenting so much sorrow to my sight,  
(Oh) God thought I, this is her Emblem right,  
sure I think it cannot but be thought,  
That I to her by providence was brought:  
●or that the Fates foredooming she should die,  
show'd me this wondrous masterpiece, that I  
Should sing her Funeral, that the world should know it  
That Heaven did think her worthy of a Poet:  
My hand is fatal, nor doth Fortune doubt,  
For what it writes, not fire shall ere raze out.  
A thousand silken puppets should have died,  
And in their fulsome coffins putrefied:  
Ere in my lines, you of their names should hear,  
Or in the world tell such there ever were,  
Whose memory shall from the earth decay,  
Before those rags be worn they gave away,  
Had I her godlike features never seen,  
Poor slight report had told me she had been  
A handsome Lady, comely, very well;  
And so might I have lived an Infidel,  
As many do which did her never see,  
Or cannot credit what she was by me:  
Nature, herself that before Art prefers,  
To go beyond all our Cosmographers,  
By Charts and Maps exactly that have shown,  
All of this earth that ever could be known;  
For that she would above them all descry,  
What art could not by any mortal eye:  
A map of heaven in her rare features drew,  
And that she did so lively and so true,  
That any soul but seeing it, might swear,  
That all was perfect heavenly that was there:  
If ever any painter were so blest,  
To draw that face which so much heaven expressed,  
If in his best of skill he did her right,  
I wish it never may come in my sight;  
I greatly doubt my faith, weak man, left I  
Should to that face commit Idolatry.  
Death might have tyth'd her sex, but for this one  
Nay have ta'en half, to have let her alone:  
Such as their wrinkled temples to supply,  
Cement them up with sluttish Mercury.  
Such as undressed, were able to affright,  
A valiant man approaching him by night:  
Death might have taken such, her end deferred,  
Until the days she had been clymaterd:  
When she would have been at threescore years & thr  
Such as our best, at three and twenty be,  
With envy than he might have overthrown her,  
When age nor time had power to cease upon her  
But when the unpitying Fates her end decreed,  
They to her end did instantly proceed,  
For well they knew if she had languished so,  
As those which hence by natural causes go:  
So many prayers and tears for her had spoken,  
As certainly their iron laws had broken,  
And had waked heaven, who clearly would have sho  
That change of kingdoms to her death she owed,  
And that the world still of her end might think,  
It would have let some neighbouring mountain sink  
Or the vast sea, it in on us to cast,  
As Severne did about some five years past,  
Or some stern Comet his curled top to rear,  
Whose length should measure half our Hemisphere  
Holding this height, to say some will not stick,  
That now I rave, and am grown lunatic,  
You of what sex so ere you be, you lie,  
'tis thou thyself art lunatic, not I:  
I charge you in her name that thus is gone,  
That may conjure you if you be not stone,  
That you no harsh nor shallow rhymes decline  
Upon that day wherein you shall read mine,  
Such as indeed are falsely termed verse,  
And will but sit like moaths upon her Hearse,)  
Nor that no child, no chambermaid, nor page  
Disturb the room the whilst my sacred rage,  
In reading is, but whilst you hear it read,  
Suppose before you, that you see her dead,  
The walls about you hung with mournful black,  
And nothing for her funeral doth lack:  
And when this period gives you leave to pause,  
Cast up your eyes and sigh for my applause.   

An Elegy. by N. H.  
WHether those Honours, or else Love, it be  
That on his windy wings doth carry me:  
I find thy outward favours much exchanged,  
And their fair order falsed, and disaranged,  
I seek thee in thyself, but cannot see,  
A trace or shadow that resembles thee,  
Those eyes, that want the morning light outshining,  
And by reflection, our dull beams refining,  
Whose motion did from earthly darkness free us,  
Does with neglect regard, and slightly see us,  
Those lips that wonting to depart in sunder,  
Charmed the admiring hearer in his wonder:  
Use not their power, as fainting in their course,  
Nor does thy saving tongue display her force,  
Thy heart that in free graces so abounded,  
Is now with jealousies and fears surrounded,  
Pale trembling, doubt, with many eyed suspicion,  
Keeps solemn court in thy sad disposition,  
Briefly, so desperate a change I find,  
As suddenly is not to be defined,  
● these new honours or ambition,  
Be arches that thy fears are founded on,  
Be less ambitious, seek to comprehend  
Less in thy vast thoughts, and thy fears will end:  
If it be love, that does divide thy rest,  
And waken up those tumults in thy breast,  
It asks more, pardon for thy beauty's such,  
As for man's good thou canst not love too much.  
Thine age is tender. and to love invites,  
Then seek out thy required appetites,  
Which when thou hast encountered in some one  
Of thousands, whose supreme perfection,  
Will be a double soul, to love and serve,  
Thine art shall be such duty to preserve,  
And with dear grace nurse the concealed fire,  
Till it to glorious action may aspire:  
Which though but seldom, when it does arrive,  
And in a well espied occasion thrive,  
Shall open wonders, such as by Cupid's leave,  
None but the elder lovers can conceive,  
Whom thou from point to point must imitate,  
And from their ground new principles create,  
Which thou to thy occasions must apply,  
And let no minutes pass, unused by,  
Be well advised, and wary in thy choice,  
And know him well, to whom thou givest thy voice  
So perfect notices, required are  
Of him, with whom thine honour goes so far,  
But having well explored, it will behove  
Thou be not nice, to show that thou dost love,  
Discretion, ask it should be revealed,  
As clear to him, as from the world concealed,  
For inundacitie, did never aid,  
And hath loves childhood oftentimes betrayed,  
Besides, there's loss of time in Ceremony,  
Ere ought be done, the world being called to eye  
Thine active wit, with jealous thought forerun.  
And let the business many times be done,  
With favours numberless, which thou shalt besto●  
Ere thou in distance of opinion grow.  
But walk in secret, and consult with night,  
And shun the dangers of the treasnous light.  
Sleep silent Mother ever friend to love,  
Will thy proportion's Secretary prove,  
And in her quiet sails her forfaites hide,  
Which are no faults but when they are espied,  N. H.  

An Elegy on the death of the three sons of the Lord Sheffeild, drowned near where Trent falleth into Humber.  
LIght Sonnets hence, and to loose lovers fly,  
And mournful maidens sing an Elegy,  
On those three Sheffe●ds overwhelmed with waves,  
Whose iosse the tears of all the Muses craves,  
A thing so full of pity as this was,  
Me thinks (for nothing) slightly should not pass:  
Treble this loss was, why should it not borrow,  
Through this Isles triple parts, a treble sorrow:  
But Fate did this to let the world to know,  
That sorrow which from common causes grow  
Are not worth mourning for, the loss to bear,  
But of one only son's not worth a tear,  
Some tender hearted man as I may spend  
Some tears (perhaps) for a deceased friend:  
Some men perhaps their wives late death may rue,  
Or wives their husbands, but such be but few:  
Care that hath used the hearts of men to touch,  
So oft and deeply, will not now be such,  
Who will care for loss of maintenance, or place,  
Fame, Liberty, or of the Prince's grace,  
Or suits in law, by vile corruption crossed,  
When he shall find that this which he hath lost,  
(Alas) is nothing to theirs which did lose  
Three sons at once so excellent as those:  
May it be feared that this in time may breed  
Hard hearts in men to their own natural seed,  
That in respect of this great loss of theirs,  
Men will scarce mourn the de●th of their own heir  
Through all this Isle their loss so public is,  
That every man doth take them to be his,  
And as a plague which had beginnings there,  
So catching is and reigning every where,  
That those the farth'st remote as much do rue.  
As those then most familiarly that knew thee,  
Children with this disaster are waxed sage,  
And like to men that strooken are in age,  
Talk what it is, three children at one time,  
Thus to have drowned, and in their very prime,  
Yea, and do learn to act the same so well  
That then old folks, they better can it tell.  
Invention oft, that passion used to feign,  
In sorrow of itself, but sleight and mean,  
To make it seem great, that here shall not need,  
For that this subject doth so far exceed  
All forced expression, that what Poesy shall  
Happily think to grace itself withal,  
Falls so below it, that it rather borrows  
Grace from their grief, then addeth to their sorrow  
For sad mischance thus in the loss of three,  
To show itself the utmost it could be;  
Also exacting by the self same Law  
The utmost tears that sorrow, had to draw  
All future times hath utterly prevented  
Of a more loss, or more to be lamented,  
Whilst in fair youth they lively flourished here,  
To their kind Parents they were only dear,  
But being dead, now every one doth take  
Them for their own, and do like sorrow make.  
As for their own begot, as they pretended  
Hope in the issue, which should have descended  
From them again: nor here doth end our sorrow,  
But those of us that shall be borne to morrow,  
Still shall lament them, and when times shall count,  
To what vast number passed years shall mount,  
They from their death's shall duly reckon so,  
As from the Deluge former used to do.  
O cruel Humber, guilty of their gore,  
I now believe more than I did before  
The British story, that thy name begun,  
Of kingly Humber, an invading Hun,  
By thee devoured, for 'tis likely thou  
With blood wert christened, blood thirsty till now,  
The Owse, the Don, & that more silver Trent,  
To drown these Sheffeilds', as ye gave consent,  
Shall curse the time, that ere you were infused,  
Which have your waters basely thus abused:  
The groveling Boor, ye hinder not to go,  
And at his pleasure firrie to and fro:  
The very best part of whose soul and blood,  
Compared with theirs is viler than thy mud.  
But wherefore paper do I idly spend  
On these deaf waters to so little end.  
And up to starry heaven do I not look,  
In which, as in an everlasting Book:  
Our ends are written, O let times rehearse,  
The 〈◊〉 loss in their sad anniverse.  M. D.  

The Author in praise of his own BOOK.  
COmmend my Self? No! But my Book I may!  
And boldly (blameless) 'tis Praiseworthy say.  
How so? The senseless Substance well may plead,  
My Self I was not, when the Book I made.   

Of his dear Friend the Author, H. F.  

OF what is here thou'lt not have any write  
Praises: that willing, would: and justly might,   

Permit me then! For I'll Praise what I see  
Deficient here (thy name FITZ-IEOFFERY,)   

Where English FITZ aright, and I ha' done  
So rightly art thou called IEOFFERYES-Sonne.   

Then add time Age but to thy industry,  
In thee again will live Old-IEOFFERY.   NATH: GURLYN.  

The Author's Answer.  

OF what is here I forbid any Write  
Praises. Why? Nothing here can merit it:   

Yet I'll Permit thee. Thou'lt but Praise my Name.  
And that's Deficient. Then Praise not for shame   

Where do (FITZ) right: Write, place it to the mind:  
Still rightly must (FITZ) JEOFFERYES come behind wrought:   

French must turn English first, (strange wonders)  
(Old) be a new Borne: The (Son) brought to nought.    

HORAT: De Arte Poeti.  

NVnc satis est dixisse, Ego mira poemata pango:  
Occupet extremum scabies!   
Anglicè sic  

NOw 'tis enough to speak,  
I wondrous Poems make:  
Then, Devil the hindmost take.    

Satyra prima.  

LIB: 1.  
Who'd not at venture Write? So many ways  
A man may prove a Poet now a days?  
Does Nature wit afford to break a jeft?  
This is a Poet: and his friends protest  
He is to blame he Writes not: when (indeed,)  
Th'Illiterate Gull can neither write nor read.  
Let Nature fail! Takes he but so much Pain,  
To write obscurely: adding so much Brain.  
As end his crabbed senseless verse in Rhyme:  
This might a Poet been in Perseus' time.  
And more! (Though Horace in his book reherses)  
(Nature and Art are both required in Verses.)  
There are those, of their Poetry will vaunt,  
Which do (God wot) both Wit & Learning want:  
I know them! Such as they at Table sit  
Each jest you speak, will to a Metre fit.  
And thus your wit's cell for their private gain  
And be accounted Poets for their pain.  
Others there are, that Others works survey,  
And must from all things some thing filch away,  
Who if to weaker Brains they can unfold  
A Learned Author: nick a Phrase that's old:  
Or change but one word in a line or two:  
Strait all's their own, they write, who doubts it so?  
When I wood scarce believe't, though they, in fine,  
To every Verse subscribe: By jove 'tis mine.  
Nor is't●inough they this in private show,  
But these are Poets, all the world must know.  
'tis strange to see what stretching is of Wits,  
What spare of speech this plenteous Press begets.  
Some (if you keep them company) you'll find  
As choice to break a jest as to bteake wind.  
And what's the reason think ye? Only this:  
All they can speaks too little for the Press.  
Where 'tis not loss of Friend, Life, Liberty,  
Shall cause them keep a jest in secrecy.  
Others have helps: when their Invention fail,  
Strait they begin abusively to rail.  
Then out comes Whelps of the old Dog: for sport:  
Shall bark at Great ones: bite the meaner sort:  
When the On-setters (after all their pain:  
For fear, wooed gladly call them in again.  
And these will Poets be accounted too:  
Because they Dare do more than others do.  
Though they their Verses write, (a man may say:)  
As Clown's get Bastards, and strait run away.  
Montanus needs will be a Poet! why?  
Because the Muses on a Mountain hy  
Inhabited. Peto for that his Name  
Denotes him Poet in the Anagram:  
And Acquaint Castilio: (since his Father died!)  
Who many Volumes published: and beside  
divers neglected, Left unto his Son:  
Which dubbes him Poet, by prescription.  
True! And Castilio will approved be,  
Or he will Print his Father's Legacy.  
And mark Crisippo, but what shifts he'll find,  
Ere he'll be counted once to come behind,  
In every Book he will bespeak afore:  
The coming out, room for half a score  
Or a dozen Verses, which he'll hugely puff  
With commendations of the Author's stuff.  
And in Hyperbolyes his Name extol  
Yond Homer, Virgil, ovid, Iwenall.  
Vouching no better Volume, ere was Writ,  
And that himself hath had a Hand in it.  
Oh this vain- Praise-Affecting Poetry  
Is a bewitching-itching Leprosy:  
That makes men Rub, scrub, rouz and touse their Brain,  
Pump their Pates dry for jests: and all to gain  
So much Report: might serve to make them vaunt,  
They are Applauded (though of Ignorant.)  
They'll snatch, and scratch, and scrape (though near so ill)  
And rather smart than hold their fingers still:  
Be there a City show: or sight at Court:  
Of Acts Heroic: or of Princely sport:  
(which right to write of, or in Type to tell:  
Might tax a daniel's or a Spencers quill.)  
Mark how these hungerbit Inventions scud  
To eye! to spy! All for no other good  
Then only this! poor this! But to obtain:  
Some sodder for their needy greedy strain.  
See then how (Envy) 'gins her eyes to fat  
On dainties plenty, and repines there at!  
How muttering Momus (that knows not to bite,  
Grumbles and mumbles mouthfuls out of spite.  
How currish (Critics) most severely hark:  
Ready at each sound of applause to bark.  
How all together, and how each a part  
Stretch, reach, feign, strain, Invention, judgement Art  
Rail, Libel: what not? Rather than labour loose  
jest on your Gesture: or belie your clothes.  
A subject fitter for a Beadle's fist  
Then the tart lines of a smart Satirist.  
Let Nature's causes (which are too profound  
For every blockish sottish Pate to sound)  
Produce some monster: some rare spectacle:  
Some seven years Wonder: Ages miracle:  
Be it a work of near so slight a weight,  
It is recorded up in Metre strait,  
And counted purchase of no small renown,  
To hear the Praise sung in a Market-town.  
How many Volumes lie neglected thrust  
In every Bench-hole? every heap of dust?  
Which from some Gowries practise, Powder plot,  
Or Tyburn Lectur's, all their substance got:  
Yet toss our Time-stalles you'll admire the rout  
Of careless fearless Pamphlets fly about.  
Books, made of Ballads: Works, of Plays,  
Sights, to be Read of my Lo: majors day's:  
Posts, lately set forth: Bearing (their Back at)  
Letters, of all sorts: An intolerable Packet.  
Villain's discovery, by Lantern and candlelight:  
(strange if the author should not see it to handle right)  
A Quest of Inquirie: (jack a Douer's)  
The jests of Scoggin: and divers others  
(which no man Better the Stationer knows)  
Wonderful Writers; Poets in Prose.  
What post pined Poets that on each base Theme,  
With Invocations vex Apollo's name.  
Springs for Woodcocks: Doctor Merriman:  
Rub and a good Cast: Taylor the Terriman.  
Fennor, with his Vnisounding Ear word;  
The unreasonable Epigrammatist of Hereford:  
Rowland with his Knaves a murnivall;  
Non worth the calling for, a fire burn 'em all;  
And number numberless that march (vutolde)  
'mongst Almanacs and Pippins, to be sold.   

apology.  
THese Ill which better Dare than know to wright  
Makes those (I know) not dare with better might  
For who ist now attempts to Print, but knows,  
He must be one or censured on, of Those!  
For my part (Gallants) it was near my hap,  
On high Parnassus' Top, to take a nap:  
Or the Divine Nine sister's Fount to see:  
Whence I might steal a sip of Poetry.  
These Idle Verses (which I Idly made)  
None but the Idle I request to read:  
Then what Applause look I for, all may guess,  
When none may look for Praise from Idleness.  
Finis Saty: Primae.    

Satyra Secunda.  

A MORAL satire.  
Sunt Videntur.  
QVidam & non  
Videntur Sunt   

Proaemium.  
I Tax no Times, I bear no Furies scourge:  
I bring no powerful Fountain springs to purge  
This vicefull Lerna, this augean sty,  
From long neglected noisome filthery.  
Vaunt Varlets then: Grizely Tartarian curs:  
Vice-Pack-horses: Swains of enchanting pleasures:  
Wallow in Lake of lewdness: racket: yell  
And all the world with thundering uproar fill,  
Till angry Love his Chaos drench again  
And a new nature of mild mould begin.  
Yet know (Earth's Of-scums) I have force, and wooed  
Uncase, unlace, your Lewdness: make ye scud:  
Lash at Lines length: and instrike such a print,  
Should make ye startle, had ye hearts of flint,  
Could I find Patrons to maintain me in't.  
But range my Muse! find out some fresher Game,  
Some Maiden matter, some unchased Theme.  
Beat through the throws of these disordered times,  
The thorny thickets of contagious crimes,  
And rouz from squat, pursue with aeger cry,  
The lurking lewdness, strong scent villainy,  
Of those close Foxes, who (in milder skins)  
Inveigh, and guess invectively at Sins:  
By't with sharp censure: and severely scan  
The inward Virtues, by the outward man.  
Beshrew me (Sirs) if I dare strut in street,  
Wink at a Window: A God-dam-me greet:  
Usher a Lady: but salute her Glove:  
Or Kiss a Maid for manners more than Love:  
Cringe to a Scrivener: be conversing seen  
In Ludgate, with a broken Citizen:  
Turn oft in Paul's: call for a stool o'th' Stage:  
Or walk atended with my Hackney Page:  
Pace Turnball, Shoreditch, Long-lane: or Pickt-hatch  
Lest I be taken by this heedful watch.  
These pickthank Peasants; that with Lynceus eye,  
Inspect man's Actions too Injuriously.  
First to yond Mass of man: yond load of Guts,  
That all he handles in his belly puts:  
Who every meals meat makes a Mass cry,  
Of Shambles, Poultry, Sea variety.  
How on the Table he his paunch doth rest,  
And stuffs it as a Wallet of the best  
Yet close his Buttocks rams up as in Pound  
For fear o'th' worst, to'th'good-behauiour bound  
S●orts at midday: yet startles at the stir,  
Of a betraying Boot, or tell-tale Spur:  
Cries out of Fashions, as of Fasting-days,  
Rebukes Excess: 'gainst Vanities inveyes:  
Hates Vice as Hunger: and abhors to stand  
In sight of a (Sir reverence) Saffron-band.  
Tell him his Worship is so strictly wise:  
His closest Trounces, full as full of vice.  
As wide from Virtues mean as Largest size.  
Next to yond Prester john, that Learned Clerk:  
Who after all my closest acts doth hark.  
A man, that for a Wise one sure wooed pass,  
Should there but 6. Bee, as there 7. was:  
He heretofore (out of his Love exceeding)  
Wooed ever be examining my Reading:  
Now (more Officious) ever Checking is:  
A strict Remembrancer of all amiss.  
Bid him be less in Office: more in Love:  
Lest he ere long jack out of Office prove.  
Laugh, Laugh, Demorritus! who can hold to hear  
Socraticke Doctors, Cato's most austeer.  
Roll up the Records of Antiquity,  
To frame Abridgements for youth's Liberty.  
Accuse Wits folly. Time's strange alterations:  
The vain expense of cloth consuming fashions,  
When their allowance was (themselves can ●ell)  
At least unto a Codpisse half an Ell.  
Lend me Athenian but a while thy light:  
To scour the scouts, the Lurking holes of Spite,  
And execrable Envy: see the rout  
Of Rascals ● venom Vermin, I'll find out:  
Cankermouthed Catchpoles, that in Ambush lie,  
To wreck, to sack virtues eternity:  
With poisonous blast of miscreant Infamy.  
(●ustinian) is too Fortunate to bear  
The name of Just: (Flora) too Courteous far  
To harbour Honesty: (Varro) held to be  
Vain, for his skilful vain in Poetry.  
(Fantastic) cannot with his Flaunders feet  
Locked in his foure-wheele-casket vex the street:  
Knock in a Tavern, but his Father hears,  
Some 20 Leagues off. Luxurio fears  
Retain a servant fairer than his wife:  
Nor will L●rella in despair of Life  
Tell of her side-stitch or the Belly-ache,  
Le●st she be said Lucina's aid to lack.  
Who is't from scourge of Censure can scape free,  
Yea (Temperate Nature) men will jerk at thee!  
How suffer some but for a Sanguine Nose?  
A Scarlet scone? when each Logician knows  
'Tis virtues colour. How envy some at  
A Sterile Chin? Or a top naked Pate?  
Emblem of Truth, and Graces. What reproof  
Goes with a Limping Leg? Or Vulcan Hoof?  
Yea some so far presume, as to define  
Knaves, by their Bunch-back's, and their Goggle-eynes  
When Accidents (affirms the Stagerite)  
Not Natural cause no note but in Spirit.  
Peace then Melampus, peace Albertus, Cocles:  
Ptolemy, Rasis, and Averroes.  
Gall●n, Palemon: hence be silent all,  
Or prone the cunning hyperphysical.  
And all less learned in Rules of Phisnomy:  
That Nature's notes, hold marks of Infamy.  
Else (min●ing Madam's) why do we (alas!)  
Pine at your Pencil and conspiring Glass?  
Your Curls, Purls, Periwigs, your Whalebone-wheels?  
That shelter all defects from head to heels.  
Making but Good what these count Vicious:  
Yet not injustly termed odious.  
To strut in Purple or rich Scarlet die  
With silver bar●es begarded thriftily:  
To set in print the Hair: Character the Face:  
Or die in grain the Ruff for Visage grace.  
To clog the Ear with plummets: clag the wrists  
With Busk-points, Ribbons, or Rebato-Twists:  
From Barber's tyranny to save a lock,  
His Mistress wanton fingers to provoke:  
Such Trifles, Toys: in these sharp Critics view,  
Throws us in number of the damued Crew.  
As if a Frounced, pounced, Pale could not,  
As much Brain cover, as a Stoic cut.  
Or practic Virtue, might not lodge as soon  
Under a Silken, as a Cynic gown.  
Fond fond Philosophers: who e'er defined  
Virtue a Habit of the clothes but mind?  
Tell me (precisely) what avails it ware,  
A Bongrace Bonnet, Eyebrow shorter Hair?  
A Circumcised Ruff? Converting Eye?  
In Sadness? Yes Indeed? Yea Verily?  
To bear a Bible every Edifying day  
Of an Armful, (beside the Apochriphay?  
To carry no more cloth than skin: to show  
The Stockens worn at Knees, the Shoes at Toe?  
If thou but nod at Friars, Or be ta'en  
Cloasly converting an impure Quean?  
Found in a Mortgage, not a minute spare?  
Or turn Informer for a demyshare.  
Who Virtue holds a bare apparent Good,  
Makes nothing Vice, that may assume a hood,  
A vail of Well, pure honesty no more  
Then flat Hypocrisy: a painted Whore.  
Countess nothing more (when indeed nothing less)  
Then others men's Opinions Happiness.  
And Virtue (rare!) All things to be at End:  
When every action needs to Good must tend.  
Give me a Genius: a well tempered mind  
which no Fear urge: no Siren note can wind  
From way of Right: that doth all Good approve  
For no Good else, but for bare Virtues love.  
Whom not Cimmerian darkness, more than day:  
Nor Gyges' Ring could corrupt any way.  
A Mind well mou●ted, that will scoff at Hate,  
Trample on ●ortune, feircel Encounter Fate,  
Spurn at the sound of Vulgar praise as base:  
Spit a defiance in proud Envies face:  
An armed Conscience that dares grapple with  
A muster of Opinions, in the teeth:  
Who though a Theatre should strive bring out  
His closest grossest Faults, and all about  
Set on to bark: durst boldly stand it out.  
Who thinks to traverse so upright the Stage  
(Free from Control) of this Censorious Age:  
Or aims in Action at the Vulgar grace,  
Of Hydra-Headed multitude, Applause;  
Need frame himself a Nature that will brook  
As many shapes as ever Proteus took.  
To cry God save you with a Courtly grace,  
To Kiss the Hand, to lay at Foot the Face:  
To act the Cros-point Longey slightly:  
Is held Affecting Proud Humility.  
To vail the Bonnet: stiff as Elephant,  
A Furlong off to cast a Complement:  
To titch the Brims: or scarce to speak at all:  
We stately, scornful, hateful Gesture call.  
And careless carriage argues loves neglect:  
In best endeavours Critics find defect.  
Let me no oftener than Apollo appear  
To Laugh, to skip (like Phoebus) once a year,  
To go more formal than my wont fashion,  
Corrected in my tailors last Edition.  
To rectify my Foretop: or assume,  
For one night's Revels a 3. story Plume:  
(Though some will La●es we are, and Le●kes as oft,  
And with a more (perchance) Ambitious thought,)  
Strait 'tis surmised, rumoured round about  
I roar, I score, I lavish, lash it out.  
Trifle Time's Treasure: And keep open port,  
To all Companions of licentious sort.  
When in a day or two, being found alone,  
Hemmed in the hopeful habit of a Gown.  
By me a Plowdon or a Littleton.  
Lord! what a new bred fame 'gins hence to pass,  
How I am changed from the man I was?  
Thus I can expectation falsify:  
Weary out Censure in uncertainty:  
Redeem Time as I list: prove Want of Wit  
In those that most invective jerk at it:  
And most precise, of greatest vice condemn.  
Making my Faults theirs: by Belying them.  
Know I can frolic be with (Fregio)  
Court it in Comptest phrase with (Curio.)  
Come deep the Caster: and Carouce it free.  
(As far as virtues limits Licence me.)  
In as rich Grograns, Satins, Tissues, go  
As Florence, Carls, Tartary can show.  
Meet, and cry farewell, to those spirits bold  
By Pistol tenure that their livings hold,  
Confer with Crop-eared knight's ath'post; hear tell  
Of Stangate prizes, and of Shooter's Hill,  
Of Brothels, Stews, of vilest villainies,  
And learn out Virtue by her contraries.  
Fond Affectation, to be counted Great,  
To be The man held: to be pointed at.  
I eu're neglected. singularity  
May sometimes virtue be: near Policy.  
Who is a man of Note (not this from me)  
Is sure ne'er to offend in secrecy:  
To live in Bondage in Fame's jealousy.  
'tis not the mouthful of man's breath I care,  
Nor severe Censure of strict Critic fear  
In spite of Envy, Hate 'twas never known:  
But ever Fame will Virtue wait upon;  
And now, when Virtue Vice is held: whom is't  
We may not Praise or Dispraise as we list?   

THen (Snarling curs) turn to this gaully slime.  
Feed on the putrid substance of my Rhyme,  
here's Hodgepodge: Sauce: provided filling stuff  
Shall find your greedy Censures work enough.  
Where if I find ye! Or but spy a train:  
A fresh have at ye (Varlets) once again.   
FINIS.   

To his worthy Friend upon these satires.  
satires in English? I pray God your fate,  
Send's you not into the world too late  
To prove there may be such: For there has been  
So much deceit in satires, 'tis a Sin  
(Almost) to hope for good ones: They who best  
Have done, have only Dared: and more expressed  
Their Passions, than a Poem. Nay even all  
Do but convert their little Brains to gall:  
And be it bitter once they care not then  
How venomous it be. Which errors when  
I see, and see how well approved they are,  
'Tis more than miracle, Yours be so far  
Distinguished. And that you survive to Write,  
More out of true discerning then of Spite.  I. STEPHENS.  

THE SECOND BOOK: OF Satirical Epigrams.  

To his True Friend Tho: Fletcher of LINCOLN'S-INNE Gent:  
TOM!) 'twas thy Speeches did me first possess  
These scattered E●igramm's deserved the Press.  
Whose Learned judgement, and Love, I knew such,  
Might well Commend, and Command, twice as much.  
If (Reader) than here's aught may breed delight,  
Give half the thanks to him it brought to light.  
Nor blush not (Tom!) nor blame not! that I seem,  
Thee the halfe-parent of my Book to deem.  
here's nought but Good (if nothing they mis-scan!)  
Let Critics, Momus, All, say what they can!  
theyare Good: who doubts it? not, for aught I know:  
Yet Good I'll swear: because Thou sayst theyare so.   

Satirical Epigrams.  

Ad Emptorem. Epig: 1.  
THese Epigrams thou see'st whose are they? mine?  
No! The Bookbinders: buy them, they are thine.   

In Thrasonem. Epig: 2.  
SInce (Thraso) met one stoutly in the field,  
He cracks his Spirit knows not how to yield.  
Looks big! Swears! struts with set-side arms the streets:  
Yet gently yields the wall to all he meets.  
And to his Friend that asks the reason why?  
His Answer's this: myself I grace thereby.  
For every one, the common Proverb knows:  
That Always to the Wall the weakest goes.   

Of a Railing Client. Epig. 3.  
I Called one Knave: who answered: (Sir) not so!  
The Knave doth all-way's with the Lawyer go.  
How could I well but well approve his speech?  
Each Lawyer walks, his Client at his breech.   

Of Debt. Epig. 4.  
TO be Indebted is a shame (men say!)  
Then 'tis Confessing of a shame, to Pay.   

In Medicum. Epig. 5.  
WHen (Mingo) cries How do you sir! 'tis thought  
He Patients wanteth? & his practic's nought.  
Wherefore of late now every one he meeteth,  
With Sir I'm glad to see you well he greeteth.  
But who'll believe him now, when all can tell  
The world goes Ill with him when all are Well?   

Against the accademics of their abusive * Ignoramus. Epig. 6.  
THe Law is in our Hands! How dare ye then  
Abusive be? 'Cause ye are Law-lésse men:  
Your fault was great! but we neglect the same,  
For ye excuse your Error in the * Name.   

In Cornutum. Epig. 7.  
ONe told his wife a Harts-bead he had bought  
To hang his Hat upon: and home it brought,  
To whom his frugal Wife: what needs this care?  
I hope (sweet heart) your Head your hat can bear.   

No-lawes Reformation. Epig: 8.  
SInce (No-law's) Father did him Counsel give  
And said, he only by his Book must live:  
Has bought the Law: and vows his life to mend,  
And most on's time will in his Study spend.  
And (doubtless) so he means, for wot ye why?  
Has changed his Bed, and doth in's Study lie:  
How like ye (No-law) now? Is he not wise?  
Thus he is certain by the Law to Rise.   

Of Lucus and his long Hair. Epig: 9  
LVcus) long locks down to his shoulders wears:  
And why? He dares not cut them for his Ears.   

Francisco's Travels. Epig: 10.  
TEn months (I take it) are not fully gone,  
Since bold (Francisco) crossed the Seas alone.  
Who late returned (one would think it much)  
A complete Linguist: skilful in the Dutch.  
And more (if you knew all) for wot ye what?  
In the Low-cuntry's he the French hath got.   

Of Braggado and his Valour. Epig: 11.  
Give one bad word out comes Braggadoes sword,  
And swears (in rage) to sheathe it in your guts.  
But draw and stiffly stand unto your word,  
And gently up again his blade he puts.  
Craves your acquaintance: vows he loves all such  
As on their Reputation stand so much.  
But be he One that can his wrath contain,  
He Scorns to strike him! he'll not strike again.  
When will Braggado then his manhood prove?  
When he● meets one he doth not scorn, or love.   

Of Duke and his Imprisonment. Epig. 12.  
Duke) lies for Debt, yet nothing owes he'll swear.  
Believe't, 'tis false, as sure as he Lies there.   

Again: Of Duke and the Debt. Epig. 13.  
DVke's not in debt: ye do him wrong to say it:  
The Debt is— God knows whose. His that will pay it.   

(Guido's) Bounty. Epig. 14.  
GIft-gobling Guido always, as he takes,  
Unto his Friend this hopeful answer makes.  
I thank you kindly: You have been at cost:  
But (if I live) you shall not find it lost.  
Then can I ever hope to live and find  
Close-fisted Guido in the Giving mind?  
Nor can I think gifts lost, though Guido die?  
For who can lose that he doth Give away?   

Of Lawyers. Epig. 15.  
SOme, Lawyer's praise: & some their sect defame:  
The first I can't: the last I will not blame.  
Nor yet esteem Those less Praiseworthy, when  
All love not Virtue: No not most of men.  
Whom All men Praise I praise him not at all,  
But rather him a Temporizer call.  
When Two contend for, what but One must have,  
Who can do Right and either's favours save?  
When one man's Loss another's Game doth make,  
And losers must, and will have leave to speak:  
Then (Gentle Lawyers,) think it more than well,  
If the half part of men your Praises tell.   

To his Fellow Students. Epig. 16.  
TO Rise by Law, a Life we covet all:  
Why? 'Tis Death to us, by the Law to Fall.   

Of Himself. Epig. 17.  
A Friend of mine, (and yet no friend to me,)  
Comes oft and craves my Epigrams to see.  
He weighs each word, & highly doth commend 'em  
And much entreats me to the Press to send send.  
Thus (Fool!) my Labours I let him partake,  
That Labour's me a Fool imprint to make.   

Of Phantasmo a Mistress Boaster. Epig. 18.  
Fie! fie (Phantasmo!) cease to raise  
Such Trophaeis in thy Mistress Praise.  
she's Fair! what then? The house most white  
Seem Venus' Birds most to invite.  
And Trees that fairest Fruit do bear  
With Stones assaulted oftenest are.  
she's Pretty● Witty! cruel Wit,  
If not Wisdom, Joined with it!  
she's Kind! 'Tis true! what better known?  
What worse? when Kind to more than one.  
Wrong not then my Purest Fair,  
With this mean this skin compare.  
Rather by thy Sonnets, seek,  
To make her Praises Venus like.  
How ere she proper: Fair her Feature:  
Bel she's but a Common creature.   

In Sextum. Epig. 19  
Sextus') 6. Pockets wears: 2. for his Uses:  
The other 4. to Pocket up Abuses.   

Epig. 20.  
KIt) I commend thy care of all I know,  
That p●un'dst thy Cushion for a Pipe of To—  
Now thou art like (though not to study more!)  
Yet ten-times Harder than thou didst before.   

Cynna's Theft. Epig. 21.  
Stolen Fruit is sweet: So cannot Cynna say,  
That Stole a Wench, and had her took away.   

Of Luce and her 4. Husbands, 3. of them thus Named, Small, Forman, Middleton. Epig. 22.  
LVce) late is left a Wealthy widow:  
(How can it other be then so?)  
Four Husbands she hath buried,  
Yet would not stick again to wed,  
Which on her Hand she thus doth cast:  
Small, Forman, Middleton: And my Last.  
(Counting for every finger One)  
Which all (God wot) are dead and gone,  
Then (Luce) beware a fifth to take,  
Lest so a Hand of all you make.   

More-dew's Payment. Epig. 23.  
MOre-dew) the Mercer (with a kind salute)  
Would needs entreat my Custom for a Suit.  
Ne'er Sir (quoth he) for Satins, Velvets, call:  
What ere you please, I'll take your word for all.  
I thanked! took! Gave my word! (say than?)  
Am I at all indebted to this man?   

Clyms' Account. Epig. 24.  
CLym calls his Wife and reckoning all his neighbours  
Just Half of them are Cuckolds he auer's.  
Nay fie (quoth she!) I would they heard you speak  
You of your self it seems no Reckoning make.   

Of Sim, and his speedy Marriage. Epig. 25.  
Fix months (quoth Sim) a Suitor and not sped?  
I in a Sennet did both Woe and Bed.  
Who green Fruit Loves must take long pains to shake.  
Thinc was some Downfall I dare undertake.   

A Manly Woman the best Wife. Epig. 26.  
Fair! manly! Wise! Imagine which of these  
In Wedlock choice would best my fancy please?  
Of all: give me the Woman half a Man:  
So I shall (happy) have but half a Woman.   

The Woman's Answer. Epig. 27.  
IF Half a woman best your Humour fit:  
'Twere best to marry an Hermaphrodite.   

Tom's good Fortune in being Robbed. Epig. 28.  
TOm) tells he's Robbed, and counting all his losses,  
Concludes: All's gone the world is full of Crosses.  
If all be gone (Tom) take this comfort then,  
thouart certain never to have Cross again.   

Of Lawyers and Poets. Epig. 29.  
NO marvel that Lawyers, rich: Poets, poor live,  
One gives to take, the other, takes to Give.   

In Ignotum. Epig. 30.  
WHat bred a Scholar: borne a Gentleman,  
Of 5. years standing an Oxonian.  
Of person Proper: of a comely Feature:  
And shall I basely now turn Seruing-Creature?  
(●oole!) hug thy fortune S'futed may be thy making  
A ladies proffered Service not worth taking?  
Who her serves (sure) shall be well Borne: (and more)  
One known sufficient for the Turn before.  
The more thy Standing, greater (Fool) thy Grace.  
And thou far fitter to supply the place.  
For men in serving Ladies much may get,  
Then men of Best-parts soon they'll admit.   

In Sprusam. Epig. 31.  
WHen men speak Bawdy knowest thou what's the matter.  
(Sprusa) so often spiteth? (not to flatter!)  
The cause (I take't) is this: Her teeth do water.   

Of the Rhyming Sculler. Epig. 32.  
HOrace the Poet, in his Book reherses,  
That Water-drinkers never make good Verses.  
Yet I a Poet know, And (in his Praise!)  
he's one has lived by Water all his day's.   

Sues Slip. Epig. 33.  

SVe swore she Loved me: and vowed faithfully  
Never to match with any but with me.  
Now she hath changed her mind: and of All men  
Will none of me. Hath she not matched me then?   

Tell her she Trifles. Ask but to what end  
She swore she Loved? She meant but as a Friend.  
Ask why Love tokens she did private send?  
Still she replies: She meant but as a Friend.   

Ask why sh'Inuited me to walk alone  
where she her thoughts more fully did make known  
Binding with Oaths, Delivering Hand on that,  
Sealing with Lips, In Wttnesse I know what:  
Casting herself down by mee● where I could  
And might have took, what Surety I would.  
Still blameless, shameless, She will all defend,  
Saying in all: She meant but as a Friend.  
Then be Sue such to all her Friends, as me,  
I'd rather she my Friend then Wife should be.    

Of Winifrid and her Suitors. Epig: 34.  
WIn is much wooed to, but not won of any:  
The troth on't is: She doth admit too many.   

Tym's Studiosity. Epig. 35.  
Mark ye how studious (Tim) is turned of late?  
How he breaks Company to meditate?  
Does he but thus continue, certainly,  
he'll be (at least) a Sergeant, ere he die.  
He may do (doubtless) much! yet I can tell,  
he'll not come near a Sergeant, by his will.   

AEnigma.  
A Beggar once exceeding poor  
A penny prayed me give him:  
And deeply vowed ne'er to ask more:  
And I, near more, to give Him.  
Next day he Begged again, I gave,  
Yet Both of us our Oaths did save.   

Of an Egregious Whoore. Epig. 36.  
THy Belly is thy God. I well may say!  
All thy care is to serve it Night and Day.  
Fear then thy God: lest (whilst thou worship so!)  
He Rise, and Hellish torments put the to.   

Of Felo and his Poetry. Epig. 37.  
FElo) that lately kissed the jail, hath got  
A smack of Poetry! yea more than that!  
He will maintain none can be truly said  
A Poet, that was near Imprisoned.  
: No Bird sings sweeter than the Bird in Cage.  
: And Satirists (like Dogs) tied, fiercest rage.  
Thus will fond (Felo) prove by Disputation,  
That Newgate is the Muse's habitation.  
But how so? when some there cannot rehearse,  
In a month's Learning, for their Lives a Verse.   

To his Unconstant Mistress. Epig. 38.  
I Dare not much say when I thee commend,  
Lest Thou be changed ere my Praises end.   

Woman (quasi) Woman. Epig. 39  
HAd I not felt it misery to Woe,  
I had been married (certain) long ago.  
Had I Not married, strait (Morocco) says,  
I had not once felt Woe in all my days.  
If after Woman as before comes Woe,  
Woe worth the Man with Woman hath to do.   

For Lawyers. Epig. 40.  
I Muse that Lawyers fear no more to marry  
That from their Wives must all the Termtime tarry.  
O Sir! If Termely absence breeds the Fear,  
How many Frights each Lawyer, in a year?   

Speudall's Policy. Epig. 41.  
noverint universi per prae— Thus began  
(Notario) read, ere he'd his Coin forego.  
Hold (cries young Spendall:) 'Sfoot you mar all man!  
By any means my Father must not know.  
For any money I'd not have it so.   

Of Liber too wary to Thrive. Epig. 42.  
LIber) is late set up, and wanteth Custom.  
Yet great resort hath got: but he'll not Trust 'em.  
Is not his Love unto his Friend the greater?  
he'll want himself, ere he'll see him a Debtor.   

In Lesbiam, ingratam. Epig. 43.  
WHy I should Love thee I no Reason see:  
Then Out of Reason (Lesbian) I Love thee.   

Sir Hugh's mistake. Epig. 44.  
IN Marriage, Woman promise makes:  
To serve her Husband all her Life.  
Hence comes it that Sir Hugh mistakes:  
Tha● uses Servants as his Wi●e.  
And further yet the sense doth wrest,  
Loving Her most that serves him best.   

In Pontum. Epig. 45.  
Pontus' comes Posting almost every day,  
And cries How do you Sir? Come, what's the play?  
Who doubts but much his labour he hath lost,  
I near could tell, no more than could the Post.   

In Milonem. Epig: 46.  
MIlo) much blames me, that in all my Verse,  
I nothing in my mistress Praise rehearse.  
Know I have Volumes, and would (I confess.)  
But can not get consent of Her to Press.   

Of Wine. Epig. 47.  
Physicians) Wine at Spring-Time poison call;  
I hold! It never hurteth but i'th' Fall.   

In Presbiterum. Epig. 48.  
PResbyter) that of late his Parish crossed,  
By his loose Living, hath his Living lost.  
And will turn Beggar: hoping by his Wits,  
To raise a Benefice from Benefits  
Fool! Study better, better means to live.  
To Learned B●ggers, rate, or ne'er men give.  
Where Art and Poverty together dwell,  
'Tis shrewdly to be feared all is not well.  
Men do by Beggiug livings get (we see!)  
Yet few get livings by their Beggary.   

In Ignotum. Epig. 49.  
A Cornish Citizen came to his Wife,  
Swore he had been in danger of his life.  
How man (quoth she!) Faith pointing but at One  
Counted the arrantest Cuckold in the Town.  
Nay Lord (quoth she!) wha● meant you Man to say it?  
Fie you forget yourself too bad, be quiet.   

The jealous man..  
I Care: I Fear: I Vex full sore:  
To Know of what would Vex me more.   

The wittal.  
I Know my Fate, and that must bear,  
And since I Know I need not Fear.   

Epig. 50.  
HOw can (Sir Amorous) in his suit speed ill,  
That hath his Mistress, every where at Will.  
Then work thy Will of her, for know, of Old,  
Tail Tenure hath been held the surest hold.   

Incerti Authoris Of a Bald-man. Epig. 51.  
THy Hairs, and sins, no man may equal call,  
For as thy Sins increase thy Hairs do Fall.   

An Answer to the same. Epig. 52.  
YEs: If thy Hairs fall, as thy sins increaese,  
Both will ere long prove equal, Numberless.   

In Philippum. Epig: 53.  
CAll Philip, Flat-nose, strait ●ee frets thereat!  
And yet this Philip hath a Nose, that's Flat.   

To his Ingenious Friend Will: Goddard of his Book entitled: Wasps. Epig. 54.  
TRue Epigrams most fitly likened are  
To Wasps, that in their tail a sting must bear.  
Thine being Wasps. I say, (who'st will repine!)  
They are not Epigrams are not like Thine.   

Amor ex visu. Of a Blindman, Loving. Epig. 55.  
IF Love comes but by Sight: (as true we find.)  
Then needs must (Caeco) see: for he is Blind.   

Maxima amicitia inter aequales. The Younger Brother to the Elder. Epig. 56.  
IF Amongst aequals greatest Friendship be,  
Our Love was Best in our minority.  
When as this mutual Lesson we were taught,  
To be as Equal branches from One graft.  
Then did we Go and Grow alike, as One,  
No Difference had in Education.  
So our Affections Sympathised in all,  
That no event could come but mutual.  
So Near so Dear, we both did Love and Live,  
That each one's Breath to each might Being give,  
What more? So Life, and Love, in all did link us,  
That One that knew us both, both one would think vs●  
Which in our Father bred this foul mistake,  
Who gave One all, and so did Difference make.   

Vaitas non est numerus. Epig. 57  
Room for (Reversio:) there's but One, I'll swear  
Betwixt him and 5. hundred a Year.  
O happy, thrice (Reversio) if that One,  
(As none a Number) thou couldst number none!   

Again: unus Homo nullus homo. Epig. 58.  
ONe Man is no man: Prove that if you can,  
(Reversio) you for ever make a man..   

Natura nihil agit frustra. Against Painted Women. Epig. 59  
MOst are of mind that Women are less Fair,  
And more Deformed: then of Old they were.  
True! else In vain wooed Nature labour take.  
To give them Beauty, that can Beauty make.   

To his Hearts conciled honour.  
THen Thee, the Goddess did Divinely frame.  
For her Art's glory, and these Artists shame.   

In Amicam dotem quaerentem. Epig. 60.  

(—) loves me, and wooed wed, but wot ye what?  
Unless I make her jointure she will not.  
And what's this jointure? A future Estate  
: Purchased by Providence, possessed by Fate.  
Whereon to Hope's unkindness, grief t'enjoy,  
A Sin, to wish for, in it self a toy.  
A merely neerl' Invention, only fit  
To part false hearts, and not to join on it.  
Then (—) on jointure do not so much stand,  
All faithful Lovers are not borne to Land.  
It breeds Distrust: Infers suspicion  
Of other dislikes, to dislike there on.  
For was thy Love, so firm as mine! with me  
Thou'dst think no other but to live and die.   

Yet be't as 'twill! ere I'll my Love forego,  
For want of what I need not: this I'll do,  
Take me! I'll play th' Good-husband, and I will  
Both Day and Night be getting for thee still.  
And what I get (and I will get for Life,)  
Dying Isle wholly leave upon my Wife.   

If this contents not! mark than what I'll say,  
Dues must not be demanded till the Day.  
Let (—) then justly join me to her now,  
And then ask jointure when it shall grow Due.    

Of a Lawyer and a Physician, which the Better man. Epig. 61.  

A Acquaint Physician that had took Degree,  
Like in his Habit: equal in his Fee.  
Being a man of Universal grace,  
Contended with a Lawyer for the place:  
Sir (quoth ‛ Physician) I am One you know  
That before Lords and Ladies use to go.  
My Life secure, void of seditious strife.  
Not one dares once molest me, for his Life.  
I of● am sent for, (Lawyer then be said)  
And have to do, with Ladies in their bed.   

Lawyer.  
Be Patient (D●ctor,) And take this from me,  
'tis no● your Grace: like Habit: equal Fee:  
Nor Privileges all: (say what you can)  
May make you be, or seem the better man:  
I (as Apollo) am the God, to whom  
All Countries croutching do for Counsel come.  
judge then my state! how Honoured I live:  
How Liberal: Counsel unto all I Give:  
How Honest, That am sought too: free from Hate  
When men will trust me with ●heir whole estate.  
No ●ot the statelyest Lady in the Land,  
Will stick ●o put her Case into my hand:  
Go to our Practice! (for my Country's care)  
I most am sturing where Contentions are.  
You in Infections, and Diseases ●aining,  
Make out of O●hers loss and Hurt, your gaining.  
I to suppress Deceit, Truth's Causes urge:  
You, Humours to exhale, with Glisters purge.  
Mistake not Doctor then, and you shall find,  
It is your Office for to come behind.    

Of 2. Painter's contending for pre-eminence in their Art. Epig. 62.  

TWo Painters on a time at variance fell,  
Which might each other in his Art excel.  
One thinking strait to end so vain a strife,  
Plucks forth the curious Picture of his Wife,  
Swearing if aught of his could this surpass,  
He, of the Two the better Artist was:  
The other more Learned in Philosophy,  
Saves All compares must amongst aequals be.  
Now then (if this must the Contention end)  
You of necessity your Wife must lend.  
Then let me presently her with me take,  
And I her Image shall more Lively make.  
Let no suspicion cause you to deny her,  
I'll make it speedily: And send it by her.  
This done! The Artist cunningly did bid her,  
Before him stand, as when her Husband did her.  
Who speedily his Pencil forth did pluck,  
And close himself unto his work betook.  
So justly Her he fitted every where,  
She swore her Husband could not him come near.  
: No better judge then, can I have, nor Will,  
: Go home and tell thy Husband of my Skill.  
At whose return the Goodman (fond to know)  
Asked her the Ensign of his Art to show.  
(Quoth she) this time the Ground he only laid.  
It shall in time be perfected (he said)  
Oft was he urgent, (and wooed Answer none,)  
From day to day he'd ask (What has he done?)  
It chanced so that in some 10. Months after.  
She was delivered of a goodly Daughter.  
So like in all, to th'Mother was this Elf,  
That none could thought be mother but herself.  
Which Borne, she took, and to her Man did send it  
Lo here my Picture: Try if you can mend it.    
FINIS.   

To the worthy Author upon these Epigrams.  
LEt me not whilst I praise an Epigram,  
Deserve a Satire: Let not me who am  
As nice in praising as dispraising still,  
Commend your work as trading Poets will:  
For than I might praise Books I never read,  
Books senseless, at least not Interpreted,  
And swear I know them good. Thus many do  
Commend and yet maintain, their credit's too●  
Which, my poor Innocence hath much admired,  
Till I perceived these Poets who are hired,  
In all respects are Shopkeepers: And they  
Grow Bankrupts, if forsworn but once a day:  
So these in wit grow beggarly whose sloth  
Hath nothing but a Wager, or an Oath  
To prove their own or other men's desert:  
And did not my perusal now convert  
My judgement to consider what I praise:  
I might (as they) approve, and many ways  
Recant hereafter: But I give them leave  
To Write upon me, when they shall perceive  
Such scorned Inconstancy; and if they please  
To do't in Epigrams, Let them first learn These.  
Which if they can learn, they may truly boast,  
They have advantage gotten with the most.  IO: STEPHENS.   

THE Third Book of Humours: Entitled Notes from BLACKFRIARS.  

Epigram. To his Lou: Chamber-Fellow, and nearest Friend NAT: GURLIN Of Lincolns-inn Gent.  
not) Counsel me I (faith!) what wod'st have me do?  
My private Notes produce in public view?  
Tush! move me not: yet (doubtless) 'tis rare stuff  
And may Take, why not? if so! Good enough.  
How ere (not) Patronize it, thou canst tell,  
(If ought mislike:) I meant, and wish all well.  
Then, Good: or Bad: here (Sirs!) on liking take it:  
If Good, 'tis I: If Bad: 'tis you that make it.   

Notes from Blackfriars.  

WHat (friend Philemo) let me thy corpses Embrace  
So jump met in this unfrequented place?  
Then, faith! ' lets Froliqueed: prithee what's the Play  
(The first I visited this twelve months day.)  
(They say) A new Invented Toy of Pearl  
That jeoparded his Neck, to steal a Girl  
Of 12: And (lying fast impounded for't)  
Hath hither sent his Beard, to Act his part.  
Against all those in open Malice bend,  
That would not freely to the Theft consent.  
feigneth all to's wish, and in the Epilogue,  
Goes out applauded for a famous—)  
Now hang me if I did not look at first,  
For some such stuff by the fond people's thrust.  
Then stay! I'll see't, and sit it out (what ere)  
Had I at coming forth took a G●ister:  
Had Fate fore-read me in a Crowd to die:  
To be made Adder-deafe with P●ppin-crye.  
Come● let's bethink our selue● what may be found:  
To deceive Time with, till the second sound:  
Out with these matches forerunners of Smoke,  
This Indian pastime I could never brook.   

SEe (Captain Martio) he i'th' Renounce me Band,  
That in the middle Region doth stand  
Woth ' reputation steel! Faith! le's remove.  
Into his Rank, (if such discourse you Love)  
he'll tell of Basilisks, Trenches, Retires●  
Of Pallizadoes, Parepets, Frontiers:  
Of Caluerins, and Baricadoes too:  
What to be Harquebazerd: to lie in Perdue:  
How many men a Soldier ought to slay  
For a Lieutenant-ship: or Twelve month Pay.  
he'll read a Lecture (by his skill exceeding)  
Of Reputation: when it lies a Bleeding:  
When Titcht: when Engaged: when quite Dead:  
: How none may ever Fight once Baffled.  
What satisfaction for the Lie: and when  
Quarrels are mortal: when Seconds may come in.  
Then of the Nether-lands! what Passes there:  
What stout Performances: wherein he'll swear  
As many weekly fall but for the Lie,  
As did in hottest time of Sickness die.  
Last for his Manhood: how in fury (crossed)  
For a false reckoning once he slew his Host.  
And late in England, (since his coming o'er)  
Into the Channel flung an Oyster-whore.  
For taking th'wall of him: seem but to doubt  
(The lest) of these: strait he will pluck ye out  
Handfuls of Reputation: gained of those  
That dared not his Valour counterpose.  
But wronging him: and called to account for't  
In Satisfaction from their Hands wooed part.  
Which he puts up, and gloriously puts forth  
In Ordinaries to proclaim his worth,  
Thinking to get (what common sense denies)  
Credit: by Pocketing up Injuries.  
Then Learn of him, he'll teach you how ye might  
Be counted Valiant, and never Fight.   

LOok next to him too, One we both know well,  
(Sir Island Hunt) a travailer that will tell  
Of stranger Things than Tattered Tom ere lied of,  
Then Pliny, or Heroditus e'er writ of:  
How he a remnant lately brought with him  
Of Jacob's Ladder from jerusalem:  
At the Barmodies how the Fishes fly.  
Of Lands enriched by a Lottery.  
Of Africa, Egypt: with strange Monsters filled,  
Such as near Noah's Ark: near Eden held.  
And rarer Rarities, than all of these:  
Just now to be discovered (if ye please!)  
Such as wooed make a Blindman fond to see;  
Convicted Gallant lose their hopes and fly,  
Most younger Brother's sell their Lands to buy,  
Guyanian Plumes: like Icarus to fly.   

But stay! see here (but newly Entered,)  
A Cheapside Dame, by th'Tittle on her head!  
Plot (Villain!) plot! Let's lay our heads together!  
We may devise perchance to get her hither.  
(If we to-gether cunniningly compact)  
she'll hold us doing till the Latter Act.  
And (on my life) Invite us Supper home,  
we'll thrust hard for it, but we'll find her room,  
Heer Mistress— (pox on't! she's past, she'll not come over,  
Sure she's bespoken for a box before.   

KNowest thou yo● world of fashions now comes in  
In Turkey colours carved to the skin.  
Mounted Pelonianly until he reels,  
That scorns (so much) plain dealing at his heels.  
His Boot speaks Spanish to his Scottish Spurs,  
His Suit cut Frenchly, round bestucke with Burrs.  
Pure Holland is his Shirt, which proudly fair,  
Seems to outface his Doublet every where,  
His Hair like to your Moor's or Irish Locks,  
His chiefest Diet, Indian minced docks.  
What Country may-game might we this suppose,  
Sure one wooed think a Roman by his Nose.  
No! In his Habit better understand,  
He is of England by his Yellow Band.   

NOw Mars defend us! seest thou who comes yonder?  
Monstrous! A Woman of the masculine Gender.  
Look! thou mayst well descry her by her groat,  
Out, point not man! Lest we be beaten both.  
Eye her a little, mark but where she'll go,  
Now (by this hand) into the Gallants Roe.  
Let her alone! What ere she gives to stand,  
she'll make herself a gainer, By the Hand.   

WHat think'st thou of yond plumed Dandebrat,  
Yond ladies Shuttlecock, Egyptian Rat:  
Yond Musk-ball, Milksop: yond French Cinquepace:  
That Ushers in, with a Coranto grace.  
Yond Gilded Marchpane: yond All Verdingall,  
This is the Puppet, which the Ladies all  
Send for of purpose and solicit so  
To dance with them. Pray (Sir) a step or two.  
A Galliard or a I●gg: Pox on't! cries he,  
That ere I knew this Toiling faculty.  
Yet mark! No sooner shall the Cornets blow,  
But ye shall have him skipping too and fro.   

A Stool and Cushion! Enter Tissue slop!  
Vengeance! I know him well, did he not drop  
Out of the Tiring-house? Then how (the duse)  
Comes the misshapen Prodigal so spruce,  
His year's Revenues (I dare stand unto't,)  
Is not of worth to purchase such a Suit.  
Tush! is it now to question Gallantry,  
When No-land for a rich Gratuity,  
May Seal as deep as can Auaro's Heir,  
That may d●spend five hundred a year?  
When Tradesmen take by whole sale all they can,  
Venting it out, on day, to any man..  
And then thems●lu●s for Twelu-pences in the pound,  
Will in the payment of the Debt be bound  
And escape free by Breaking. This an age  
To fear preferment? When a Rascal Page  
An Abject outside shall presume to Woe  
Rich bruited (Cashia:) and hope better too,  
Then he that of the Of-scums of his Brain,  
Can a man better than the (Vice) maintain.  
(Tut! 'tis the Mother's plot! Now she shall see  
The Court sometimes! Oh Carnal Policy!)  
Then who in Study wooed spend Time in vain?  
Omit youth's pleasures for a fruitless pain?  
Or for an Airy puff of Envied Praise,  
Live bound to th' Good-behaviour all his days.  
Hang't! Let's be jovial! Brave it whilst we can!  
What's Coin ordained for, but the use of Man?  
To Borrow is a Virtue, when to Lend,  
Is to beget an everlasting friend:  
And may a man have more said in his grace,  
Then to be Credited in every place?  
he's not a Gentleman I dare maintain,  
Whose Word runs not as Current as his Coin.  
A Pipe here (Sirrah) no Sophistocate.  
(Villain) the best: what ere you prise it at.  
Tell yonder Lady, with the Yellow fan,  
I shall be proud to Usher her anon:  
My Coach stands ready. Lord how me thinks I long!  
To carve the inside of a dried Neats-tong.  
England cannot afford a kinder relish,  
For Backragg, deal, or your more pleasing Rhenish  
When shall we make a pleasant cut to Dover,  
In a mad merry Humour? And send over?  
A Laugh shall rouz the Hage: shake Lesbon walls:  
And raise in Arms the fearful portugals.  
Say Gallants (faith) shall's never see the day,  
When we shall Fish-street once again survey.  
A buttered Crab or Lobsters leg to get,  
O Venus! How a Life I savour it?  
Who wooed not all his Land spend had he more,  
Then in a day a Kite could hoover over.  
T'enjoy the pleasant Harmony that we  
Find in this Microcosm, Man's society.  
When all is gone, 'tis weakness to despair,  
Are there not wealthy Widows every where.  
Ambitious Sick, wooed part from all their Good,  
To crown their latter days with a French-hoed?  
Are there not Pates, in strange discoveries teaching  
where mountains are of Gold? 'sfoot, 'tis but fetching!  
Twenty such Fetches hath the (Shark) to move  
Gallants of the first Head, but to approve  
His swaggering Humour, vows that all he spends,  
He getteth bravely by his Finger's ends.  
There's not a Cheap side Mercer (if he look)  
That will not swear to't deeply on his book.  
No noted Notary in Cornwell row,  
But is subscribed Witness there too.  
Silkmen, Haberdashers, Tradesmen all:  
Enamoured on him, for his Custom call,  
And he takes all of them● But woe to him  
If he be taken but by one of Them.   

: W' Ant it for Women woe should all be men.  
I cannot present better instance, then  
In yond Spruce Coxcomb, yond Affecting Ass,  
That never walks without his Looking-glass,  
In a Tobacco box, or Dial set,  
That he may privately confer with it.  
How his Band jumpeth with his Peccadilly,  
Whether his Bandstrings balance equally:  
Which way his Feather wagg's: And (to say truth)  
What words in utterance best become his mouth.  
Oh! Hadst thou yesterday beheld the Valour  
I saw him exercising on his Tailor.  
How, out of measure, he the Ruscall beat,  
Not fitting to his mind his Doublet.  
Lord! how I laughed to see the witless Noddy,  
Dared not reply, he meant it to his Body.  
See Villain, Rogue! (And in he shrinks his breast)  
Oh Heavens! Too wide a handful at the least,  
Strait it is Cut! And then proves (being tried)  
As much too little on the other side.  
But what skil't● he'll have an attractive Lace,  
And Whalebone-bodyes, for the better grace.  
Admit spare diet, on no sustnance feed,  
But Oatmeal, Milk, and crumbs of Barley-bread.  
Use Exercise until at last he fit:  
(With much ado) his Body unto it.  
he'll not approach a Tavern, no nor drink ye  
To save his life Hot-water, (wherefore think ye,)  
For heating's Liver Which some may suppose  
Scalding hot, by the Bubbles on his Nose.  
he'll put up any public foul disgrace.  
Rather than hazard cutting of his Face.  
If in his Element you'd have the (Fool!)  
Ask him when he came from the Dauncing-schoole  
Whereas much Leather he doth daily waste  
In the French Cringe, which jeremy brought last.  
And more, than Coriat (I dare maintain)  
In going to the Alps and back again.  
Whereof, that all the world may notice take,  
See! every step an Honour he doth make  
That Ladies, may denote him with their Fan,  
As he goes by, with a Lo: he's the man.   

IS't not a thing to be admired at  
That any man should Sing himself in debt.  
Then who'd not give as willingly a groat,  
To hear (Fantastics) admirable note?  
: As see a Mandrake, or a Sea-monster:  
: Edward's blade: with the Tombs at Westminster.  
The Eagle at the Tower: St. James' Rarities:  
The Ostrich, or Beaver, that wooed worry Trees?  
(Amorous Fantastic) that did never aim at  
A smaller Rise, than Ela in the Gamat.  
That ne'er conversed but with men of Note,  
Your Crotchet Pate, and your Organic Throat.  
Never Ambitious more than to be able,  
But to attain unto a Chamber Treble.  
Wondrous proficient! See how the Gentlewomen  
Throng to his Chamber door, but dare not come in,  
Why? least he ravish them! Tush! Laugh ye not,  
H'as done (I worse) as great exploits as that.  
(Or else he cracks) the sweetness of his voice  
O'erheard of Ladies, hath procured him choice  
Of Matches: Noble, Rich: but he'll not meddle,  
And why (I pray?) for cracking of his Treble.  
No● bee'l with better industry make trial,  
If ●ee can Match his Treble to the Viol.  
'Gainst when, he hath proclaimed throughout the City,  
To A●l your Wits, an Angel for a Ditty:  
Faith! was he here we'd bargain for a Rhyme,  
And here he comes. So truly he keeps Time.   

But h'st! with him Crabbed (Websterio)  
The Play wright, Cart-wright: whether? either! ho—  
No further. Look as yield be looked into:  
Sat as ye wooed be Read: Lord! who wooed know him?  
Was ever man so mangled with a Poem?  
See how he draws his mouth aw●y of late,  
How he scrubs: wrings his wrists: scratches his Pa●e.  
A Midwife! help? By his Brains coitus,  
Some Centaur strange: some huge Bucephalus,  
Or Pallas (sure) engendered in his Brain,  
Strike Vulcan with thy hammer once again.   

This is the Critic that (of all the rest)  
I'd not have view me, yet I fear him least,  
here's not a word cursively I have W●i●,  
But he'll Industriously examine it.  
And in some 12. months hence (or there about)  
Set in a shameful sheet, my errors out.  
But what care I it will be so obscure,  
That none shall understand him (I am sure.)   

Others may chance (that know me not a right,)  
Report (injuriously) all my delight,  
And strength of study I do wholly bend  
To this Losse-labour and no other end.  
To these I wish my scandald Muse reply  
In as plain terms as may be 'Tis a lie.  
here's but Pate-pastime: Playhouse Observation,  
Fruits of the vacants hours of a Vacation.  
Then (say all what they can) I am sure of this,  
That for Playtime it is not spent amiss,   

Semel insanivimus omnes.  
Once we have all  
Been jovial.   
FINIS   

To his worthy Friend, H.F. upon his Notes from BLACKFRIARS.  
HAd the Blackfriars been still un-suppressd,  
I cannot think their Cloisters had been blessed  
With better contemplations: Seeing now  
Less may be gleaned from Puritans than you  
Have gathered from the Playhouse. And I must  
(Though't be a Player's vice to be unjust,  
To Verse not yielding coin) let Players know  
They cannot recompense your labour: Though  
They grace you with a Chair upon the Stage,  
And take no money of you nor your Page.  
For now the Humours which oppress Plays most,  
Shall (if the owners can feel shame) be lost:  
And when they so converted do allow,  
What they disliked once, Player's must thank you,  
And Poets too: for both of them will save  
Much in true Verse, which hisses might deprave:  
Since you have so refined their Audience,  
That now good Plays will never need defence.  IO: STEPHENS.  

Epilogue. The Author for Himself.  
I Am no Poet! (yet I do not know  
Why I should not: or why I should be so,)  
I can (I must confess) a Metre s●an:  
And judge of Verses as an other man.  
I have been Trained vp'mongst the Muses: (more!)  
The sacred Name of Phoebus I adore.  
Yet I no Poet am! (I'd have ye know)  
I am no Poet (as the world goes now.)  
: My Muse cannot a Note so poorly frame.  
: As Invocate a Penny-Patrons name.  
: I cannot speak and unspeake (as I list:)  
: Exchange a sound friend for a broken jest:  
: Confer with Fountains: or converse with Trees.  
: Admit in my discourse Hyperbolyes.  
I cannot highly praise Those highest are  
Because they sit in Honours lofty chair.  
Nor make their States in Sonnets happy known,  
Being (perchance) less happy than mine own.  
I cannot sing my Mistress she is Fair:  
Tell her of her Lily Hand: her golden Hair,  
Fetch a Comparison (beyond the Moon,)  
To prove her constant in Affection.  
: I dare not Her so much as Lovely call:  
: Or say I have a Mistress at all.  
: Why? Ere too morrow, she will changed bee●  
: And leave me laughed at for my Poetry.  
Had I of Scoggins Crows writ: or set out  
In Woman's Praises what I was about.  
I am persuaded (yet I cannot tell)  
I had a Poet proved against my will.  
Yet (ye unproved good) blame not because  
I yet as (doubtful on your merits) pause.  
I will produce and Patronize it too:  
Find I but one amongst so many true.  
But Feign I cannot, here is not a word,  
Which I dare not maintain true with my sword.  
Poet's men Liars call. If so! Then (know it)  
He is a Poet, doth me call a Poet.   

Postscript to his Book-binder.  
STationer) A Good turn to thee I owe:  
here! I will pay thee now in Folio.  
But stay! Not so: that I wooed have thee pu●  
Me in the Folio: or the Quarto cut.  
Rather contrive me to the Smallest size,  
Lest I be eaten under Pippin-pyes.  
Or in th' Apothicaryes shop be s●ene  
To wrap Drugg's: or to dry Tobacco in.  
First (might I choose) I would be bound to wipe,  
Where he discharged last his Glister-pipe.  
The Character I care not, Great, or Small,  
So I be plainly understood of all.  
Only preserve me from the sight of Those,  
That cannot but must Read me in the Nose.  
●he●●are to cast me: not i'th' Learned Ro●,  
●eas● I the Learned censure undergo.  
Nor lay me with s●ald Poets lest I titch,  
And so become infected with Their itch.  
Let not each Peasant, each Mecannick Ass,  
That near knew further than his Hornbook cross.  
Each ravine- Rustic: each illiterate Gull:  
Buy of my Poesy, by pocket full.  
Books like made-Dishes may for Daintyes go,  
Yet will not every palate taste 'em so:  
Then were it good, I should enjoin the Sell.  
Me unto none but those that love me well.  
If any Puff-paste, Bombast jobernole,  
Wrapped in the Hangings of a Brokers-stall.  
A half- Nose: or a Carbonadoed face:  
Of a suspicious subtle Serpent's pace.  
Trust to a Basket-hilt: chances to drop,  
But for a Resting-roome into thy shop.  
And catches in his fatal hand my Rhyme.  
To lurk in it, until he see his Time.  
Thrust him out headlong, for (believe him not)  
Now (by the Mace) it is a Counter plot.  
If thou behold a Courtcast Satten-show,  
Fallen from the Fashion a Degree or two.  
One as goes purveying up and down for Tales,  
●o jest his hungry stomach into meals.  
●hat with a merry pocket- Pamphlet will,  
●or a week after Laugh his Belly full.  
●end him to Sojourn with Duke Humphrey,  
●et him starve ere he get a bit of me.  
●east lying (Read) neglected in his Slop,  
abee conveyed unto the Brokers-shop.  
Or by his thievish Page discovered:  
Quickly converted into Gingerbread.  
If any Younger Brother, that no more  
●ath than a Daggle-tailed Sheepskin kept in store:  
●hose Annual fleece will but bare means afford,  
●nd with the Echer of his Brother's board.  
That sits a Ledger at his Father's Table:  
My Book wooed fond purchase: (hardly able,)  
To win, the presence by the Fires side,  
Of Mrs. Sis, or Sue the Dary-maide.  
Or choked the Rustic Leather-lobs with laughter  
Bid him go study how to live hereafter:  
Read where more solid substance he may get  
To Live upon, or learn to go in Debt.  
Ye, ye, Brave Gallants: Patrons of lively mirth:  
Ye, the young hopeful Landlords of the Earth:  
The youth of youth! That read most liberally,  
More out of Pastime than necessity.  
Ye worthy Worthies! None else (might I choose)  
Do I desire my Poesy peruse.  
●or to save charges: ere the Plays begin:  
Or when the Lord of Liberty comes in.  
And if a Book must needs a Patron have,  
Yours is the only Patronage I crave.  
Orhers I wish the Stationer forewarn,  
With a Hand's off: It is not for your turn.  
FINIS.