NEW EPIGRAMS, AND A SATYR.  
Written by IOS: MARTIN, a wellwisher to study.  Est quoddam prodire tenus, si non datur ultra. 
LONDON, Printed by G. ELD, dwelling in Little-Britaine. 1621.   

TO THE RIGHT Worshipful, Sir Henry Martin Knight.  
THree things to every Action Lustre give;  
The Will, Art, Age: All for Acceptance strive:  
The Will, presents things weak, but Art supplies them,  
Time perfits all, and like a Touchstone tries them:  
Of three I challenge one, and that's the Will,  
Which I present, for want of Age and Skill:  
Desire to please hath made me bold to sue  
To all for Love, for patronage to You.  
Your Worships in all true devotion, joseph Martin.   

A Poetical insinuation.  
MY Muse, that for these six years' day was mute,  
And unacquainted with those wits acute,  
That do frequent Parnassus sacred Hill,  
And of that horse-bred Font do drink their fill:  
Addressed like others, to avoid suspicion  
Of each invective Satyrs disposition,  
Stepped forth into the woods, unseen, (desire  
Presses on those whom Reason bids retire,)  
'twixt doubt, and hope, much fearing, daring more,  
At length, resolved some Deity t'implore▪  
Under Conduct of whose adored protection,  
She might have some excuse for imperfection▪  
And (being of a high aspiring thought▪)  
Left those Semidei, and soared aloft.  
And to that great Apollo shepherds God,  
She powered her vows▪ at which he seemed to nod.  
Or at the least (poor Muse) she wished so much,  
Fond hope, what we desire doth promise such,  
Yet herewith all content she doth proceed,  
Fearing no less, than hoped happy speed.   

EPIGRAMS.  

1. To Time.  
Grave Censurer of things long since o'er past,  
Of present Actions, and what shall be last;  
Think not amiss, that my unlearned quill,  
Hath spent some Minute's of thee, and so ill,  
I'll thank thy present patience, and in Time,  
My Muse may give thee thanks in better Rhyme.   

2. To the Gentle Reader.  
MOst welcome Guest to these my homely Cates,  
If any thing my barren Muse relates  
That may thy palate or thy Stomach please;  
I wished Ambrosia, (though a pulse or pease)  
Here is no forced, but voluntary dish,  
And should be better, had I but my wish.   

3. To the unkind Reader.  
AVthors that write, and Readers that survey,  
Like Verbs do in their kinds themselves display:  
Authors, we Active, Passive, Common call,  
They must invent, endure, be read of all.  
Readers both wise, and weak of each degree,  
In censure must like Verbs Deponent be.  
But (fearing, lest thy Censure should deprave me)  
No Verb (unless a Neuter) I would have thee.   

4. To the indifferent Reader.  
When as thy leisure (loathing idleness)  
From things more serious wils thee to digress;  
(Desiring change of fare) vouchsafe a look  
On these unpolished lines, which if thou brook,  
I joy, yet fear thy expectation's crossed,  
Then is thy time, and all thy labour lost.   

5. To Opinion.  
I like each man's opinion, (those abated,  
Who wilful are, and selfe-opinionated,)  
Yet (Epigram) if such thou meetest with any,  
(I fear thou canst not scape them, theyare so many)  
Tell them thine Author had a self Conceit,  
And in respect of that, their loves entreat;  
Thus having soothed them up, (and they apart)  
Tell others that thou hat'st them with thy heart.   

6. To Fame.  
Swift winged Fame! the Spur of virtuous Acts,  
The Scourge of Vice, and mischievous compacts▪  
The Messenger of joy, and good Intents;  
The true discou'rer of sad Accidents.  
I'll beg a Nothing of thee, (to reveal  
Were labour to thee) do my lines conceal:  
Then if thou ere were't Author of a lie,  
I'll say for it thou hadst authority.   

7. To Destiny.  
You cursed Fates! that hinder good Intentions,  
And smother Goodness with decreed preventions;  
Cease to seduce, set open Virtue's Gate  
To all that come; be not prejudicate:  
And if you needs of things to come will speak,  
Decree my Work to perish, 'tis so weak.   

8. Minerva's Ghost.  
Contending once with Beauty and with Might,  
I was bereft of both, (though both my right:)  
Unhappy Censure! where the judge was blind,  
And could not see the beauty of the Mind:  
Yet do not quite neglect your worths (my Muses)  
For he is blind that should reform abuses:  
And wonder not though Scholars be so poor,  
Rich Ignorance is keeper of their store.   

9 To Venus' Shrine.  
Fair Goddess Beauty, fairest of them all,  
To whom the Shepherd gave the golden Ball,  
We Virgins (loaden with that name) salute  
Thy Shrine, ourselves to Lust we prostitute;  
Our Beauties are the fuel, our Desire  
The Bellowes, that do blow thine Incense fire.  
O! knew they, Flowers once plucked can grow no more,  
They would not be so lavish of their store.  
And yet (I guess) 'tis done to this intent,  
They may the longer time have to repent.   

10. A Drunkard. Aenigma.  
THe more I swallow, I the lighter am,  
the more a Beast, more near a 
* Bacchus.  Deity:  
When sober, poor; now wondrous rich I seem;  
erst while I swum in drink, yet now am dry:  
Surely, thou art some Monster, or some Fiend,  
Some monstrous Devil, or some Devil's Friend.   

11. To the poor Cobbler.  
Divine Artificer! our Soles he mends,  
that walked in evil ways, and went amiss,  
Confirms their broken states with surer Ends,  
sets them upright again: What pity 'tis,  
His pieced estate cannot keep out the Weather?  
Surely, he too much liquoreth his Leather.   

12. A Roaring Boy.  
THou dost conjure me, I confess thou art  
a Spark, or rather Flash of Chivalry;  
If that thou hadst as good, as great a heart,  
or were thy madness mixed with modesty:  
Thy best discourses are but compliments,  
Thy mighty Oaths confirm small arguments;  
Thou fearest ' no mortal wight, and yet we see,  
A silly Watchman often Counters thee.   

13. A Player.  
AS King, and Subject, now thou dost command,  
yet now (unfortunate) dost Fortune serve;  
Erst while, thou didst as great as Caesar stand,  
now art thou Irus (thus the Fates do swerve)  
Yet wonder not, thou art not still so gay,  
Of others wits, thou only art the jay.   

14. In Cornutum.  
THou dost complain of ease, and dost neglect  
thy wife, because she's kind, yet didst thou know  

* Bonum quo communius, con melius.  A good thing common, is of more respect,  
thou wouldst be kinder unto her, (I trow.)  
Then marvel not (thy wife being free from scorn)  
Though thou (her Head) be subject to the horn.   

15. A Carpet Knight.  
THou like the Fox, the Ape, the Lion art,  
Thy words are wounds, thy tongue itself the dart,  
Thou (like the Fox) dost tell the Crow he's white,  
To please his ear, and feed thine appetite:  
Thou art the Ape of other men's affection,  
And to their wills, thy words have still reflection.  
Having beguiled them thus (like Fox and Ape)  
Thou dost devour them, in a Lion's shape.   

16. Mundus immundus.  
THroughly fraught with wrack, and woe,  
Harboring each mortals foe,  
Endless in uncertain End,  
Weakness and impatience friend:  
Once unspotted, pure within,  
Rather now a Sink of Sinne.  
Let the misery of this,  
Draw our thoughts to seek true Bliss.   

17. An evil Age.  
VIrgill, of Mars, and ruthful wars did treat,  
Ovid, of Venus' love, and peace did write,  
Yet Virgil for his strain was counted great,  
And Ovid for his Love, was banished quite,  
No marvel then, if courtesy grow cold,  
When Hate is praised, and Love itself controlled.   

18. Venus and Adonis.  
WHat is the cause, that Venus (beauty's Queen)  
Was always with the boy Adonis seen?  
I guess the reasons, thus, because she knows  
That children cannot women's wills disclose.  
She, that with Horns doth deck her husband's crest,  
For her convoy, A silly guide is best.   

19 Mars and Neptune.  
Mar, (God of battle) Neptune (of the Seas)  
Falling at Odds, their wrath's nought could appease,  
But sought revenge on other each to take,  
And by that means, their fury's rage to slake,  
Mars, (having led his troops into the fields,  
Which in the Winter, little comfort yields)  
By Neptune was assaulted, who had made  
The boisterous winds, and waters, to invade  
His Army, (weakly armed, to prevent  
Those floods, that do oreflowe the continent)  
At which Mars rag'de, And caused that at a sup,  
His Zerxean Army, drunk whole rivers up.   

20. A Gamester.  
I Much admir'de, that 'mongst all other wights  
Composed of earthly mould, and heavenly sprights,  
Others (of all sorts) plentifully live,  
Yet (most unhappy) Gamesters never thrive;  
I guest the reason, Others: purchase land,  
Their whole estate, on Movables doth stand.   

21. Epigram.  
EGenus (when his own estate was spent)  
To raise his Fortunes did a means invent,  
And finding, that by begging, many got  
A fair estate, who scarce were worth a groat,  
Began to beg, and got so true a vain,  
Nothing seemed hard (by begging) to attain.  
And where his own desert was wanting found,  
Urged others bounty (to bestow) a ground,  
But he (that made of misery a sport,)  
Was for his boldness, whipped out of the Court.   

22. Den Fashionista.  
FRench, Spanish, Dutch, Italian, Indian Ape,  
A mighty linguist if his Clothes could speak,  
A man, (yet of a most inhuman shape)  
And wonder not if he his promise break,  
For he that hath engaged unto so many  
His little Faith, hath left himself not any.   

23. A contented mind.  
I Want and stand in need of Croesus' store,  
Yet I, than he that hath the most, have more,  
I subject am to grief and sad annoy,  
Yet never felt I scarcity in joy:  
He that is blest with true content of Mind,  
No want of wealth, No misery can find.   

24. A mere Richman.  
OF what the earth, the Air, the water can,  
(In their abundant fullness) yield to man,  
I have the full fruition, And of pleasure,  
I do partake in most superfluous measure,  
Yet do I seem to pine for want of either,  
The dropsy of my mind, content with neither.   

25. A Citizen and a decayed Gentleman.  
Seeing me walk forlorn about the City,  
Thou seem'st to ease my heart with words of pity,  
And ask'st me what I lack: yet, when I tell thee,  
The very thought of courtesy do'quell thee,  
Alas, I want relief, and doth implore  
Thy help, to lend a mite that hast such store,  
Thou answerest me, with Hence, you hinder those  
Would buy, and for my wares their coin expose.  
I am content with nought, yet say, 'twere fair,  
Thou didst not sell thy Conscience with thy ware.   

26. A Woman's Tailor.  
Composed of many pieces, patched together,  
jay-like, from every bird he snips a feather,  
He doth not cut a shred that's out of fashion,  
To keep my Lady's woman free from passion,  
Yet hath she reason for to run o'th' score,  
He never makes her loose enough before.   

27. The Barbers Office.  
A Circumciser of those excrements,  
Which are enormous, or extravagant  
On Capital or Barbal lineaments,  
Or wheresoever they are exorbitant.  
And to be plain; be pleased a while t'sit bare,  
He will correct your worship to a Hair.   

28. In Catum.  
A Little beast I am, And do devour,  
Contagious vermin to the welshmen's Cates,  
A low and loving Creature to my power,  
The first of each lines-letter more relates.   

29. Painters and Poets.  
BEtwixt these two there lately grew dissension,  
Whether of twain, excelled in his Invention.  
The Painter, sets a good face on the matter,  
Though not so true, but it might seem to flatter,  
And yet protests, against it, and disgrace,  
Saying what he doth is before their face.  
The Poet, (in a harsh Satyric vain)  
Tells him he daubs; his own the purest strain;  
Yet yields to reason, and (by merest fortune,  
Meeting with me, my judgement did importune,  
My answer was; that Painters were confined  
Only to mortal shape, and there resigned  
But Poets were the Oracles of Fame,  
Who long since dead, had living still a name,  
To them I therefore did the conquest yield,  
Who did remain the longest in the Field:  
Yet (gentle Reader) I refer't to thee,  
Whether of twain shall have priority.   

30. Love's Lunacy.  
BEfore I knew what might belong to war,  
I was content to suffer many a scar;  
Yet none could hurt me, till at length a Boy,  
(Disgrace to manhood!) wrought my sad annoy.  
This Lad (though blind) yet did he shoot a dart,  
Which pierced my breast, and lighted on my heart,  
Yet did I feel no hurt; till from above,  
I heard a voice say, Soldier, you must love.  
I likeed it well, and in this pleasing vein,  
I lost my wits, to get my heart again.   

31. A Puritan.  
HIs name, doth show his nature to be pure,  
And so it seems indeed, precise, demure;  
And yet, (in very deed) he's not the same,  
Nor doth he brook himself, but in his name.  
He loves his neighbour and his neighbour's wife,  
And hates profaneness in another's life.  
He will not swear an oath, yet to reprove  
Those that do swear, the Spirit doth him move;  
I dare not say he will deceive his Brother,  
Nor were it fitting, when he may another.   

32. To Mounsieur Melancholy.  
WHat, not a word? what means this sad distraction?  
Thou look'st, as if thy breast were in confraction,  
what hast thou lost of late, some friend? some brother?  
Or (one that is more dear then both) a Mother?  
Faith none of all, but 'tis my pleasing vein,  
I like it well, and would it loath abstain.  
Fie purge it: Sir I thank you, yet I fear,  
I should be idle then, as oft you are.   

33. To Romista a Traveller.  
O Sir, y'are welcome home; what sudden change  
Altered your mind, that so did love to range?  
Stood on your worth, as if you promised aid  
Unto those Giants that did jove upbraid:  
What means this ragged outsid, inside passion,  
Or (whence you came) is this the newest fashion?  
If't be, 'tis old enough. Good sir forbear,  
'tis b●d enough, you need it not to tear,  
He that can live at home, and thinks it loss,  
But must abroad, comes home by weeping Crosse.   

34. Elementa non alimenta.  
Clear springing water, comfortable fire,  
All-clensing Air, and fruitful mother Earth,  
Against their Ruler (Man) they did conspire,  
To punish his ingratitude with dearth.  
The water (that did once refresh) doth chaok him,  
The Fire (that used to warm) doth scorch & smother  
The Air (wherein he breathed life) infects him.  
The Earth denies him food (though once a Mother)  
Then Man reputes him of his foul abuses.  
And heaven converts them to their former uses.   

35. Galen and Morbosus.  
MOrbosus doth complain of strange effects  
Within him; fearing Galen him neglects,  
To Day he feels no pain, is in good case,  
Tomorrow he's as sick as ere he was;  
By chance he meets a friend, and him he prays,  
To tell him, what he thought of his disease;  
Quoth he, thy purse is sick o'th' Pleurisy,  
Galen must first cure that, and then cure thee;  
Morbosus slights his friend, and waxeth poor,  
And strait is cured of Sickness and of Store.   

36. To julia.  
IVlia, with painting doth herself disguise,  
She fain would have some colour for her vice,  
And yet if any (spying it) should flout,  
She bids him leave, for fear she paint him out.   

37. jugatus and Liber,  
IVugatus by a chance with Liber met,  
And counselled him a second self to get;  
(Quoth Liber) I am now myself and free,  
Wouldst have me severed and in misery?  
No (quoth jugatus) 'tis sweet harmony,  
Where two affections join in unity:  
I, but (said Liber) is there any sense,  
That he should suffer, that doth no offence?  
At last they both agreed, that liber's life,  
Had greatest pleasures, and was freest from strife,  
Then he that's free, and liberty doth scorn,  
Let him endure the Yoke, or (worse) the ()   

38. To Lucina.  
LVcina, when her lustful days were done,  
Desired to live recluse, and like a Nun,  
But yet controlling this her rash intent,  
She finds her living so, came by descent,  
Her mother did to her this state Entail  
Nor dares she cut it off, for fear she fail.   

39 To Flava of her yellow Band.  
Flava, (once pure & white) is now grown yellow,  
To show her fruitful Vice is ripe and mellow,  
Ready to fall at every blast of wind,  
Yet is her wit still green, she nought but rind.  
Yet Flava this excuse hath still at hand;  
Most brainsick men do wear a yellow band.   

40. To Verinus a Tobacco taker.  
WHen first I saw the Chimney of thy nose  
Vent smoke so fast, I then began t'suppose,  
Thy Stomach all on fire, which I to quench,  
Made haste, and was half poisoned with the stench;  
Then blame me not, if that I take't in snuff,  
Thou shouldst requite my love with stinking stuff.   

41. To jocosa a Nightwalker.  
I Wonder much, why she in all things Light,  
Should love to do her Business in the night,  
The reason; Fowl within, without shows fair,  
Though she be light her works of darkness are.   

42. To the sharking Chameleon.  
Never the same, yet never out of fashion,  
A stranger still, though one of every Nation,  
Yet this one thing, I wish he would abhor it,  
He always owes his skin, or money for it.   

43. Epigram.  
AS true as Turtle to her tender mate,  
Free in goodwill, and furthest from debate,  
Regardless of each wrong, or false surmise,  
Easy to be entreated, sober, wise;  
Impatient of delays that hurt his friend,  
No ways in fault, yet willing to amend,  
Discreet, and Constant; Such a one as He,  
Each man should wish his nearest Friend to be.   

44. To Experience.  
WHen first I knew the easy difference,  
Betwixt my right hand, & my left, I thought  
Me wise enough to tax Experience,  
And gravely to esteem my little nought,  
But when I could discern 'twixt dark and light,  
I saw my error, and was sorry too,  
And setting weakness opposite to might:  
The more I knew the less I seemed to know.  
At last, I was content to be a Page,  
To grave Experience, perfited by Age.   

45. To Silla a Trader.  
IF it be true, that Promise is a debt,  
Then Silla will her freedom hardly get,  
For she hath vowed her service to so many,  
She'll neither pay them all; nor part from any,  
Yet she to satisfy her debts, desires  
To yield her Body. (As the Law requires.)   

46. In Vrbanum.  
VRbanus, long had lived a single life,  
And could not thrive. At last he gets a wife,  
Yet had he still this care; of evil things  
To choose the least, which lest annoyance brings,  
His little wife, (that had less modesty,)  
Soon knew her husband's best Commodity,  
And that she vented, at the best increase,  
(She needs must thrive, whose trading near did cease.)  
Vrbanus glad, with such a wife he'd met,  
That could by Night or Day their living get.  
Neglects his trade, and doth himself maintain,  
By his wifes Commings in, (unlawful gain)  
At last her Trading fails, they both grew poor,  
His little Wife, was proved no little (.)   

47. To Auarus of his Argument.  
WHen as I ask thee money, thou repliest,  
Believe thou hast, thou hast it, yet deniest,  
What? is to think to be? thou sayest, I hit,  
Then I believe thou 〈◊〉 more wealth, then wit.   

48. Of Arnaldo.  
ARnaldo, free from fault, demands his wife,  
Why he is burdened with her wicked life,  
Quoth she? Good husband do not now repent,  
I far more Burdens bear, yet am content.   

49. In Prodigum.  
HIs father lately dead, hath left him all,  
(The tallest Cedar to the earth must fall)  
This being known, he to the Mercer hies,  
And with his Credit new apparel buys,  
His Tailor fits him, and he doth bethink,  
How he may spend his Father's mass of chink,  
Seeks out Companions, who not curious are,  
With him in this his happy lot to share,  
Those, of his Father's Substance, are the Shadows,  
(As long as that will last) his near Comradoes.  
Fitted with those, his Worth desires a Page,  
To light Tobacco for him on the Stage,  
(For there he seldom misses,) next 'tis meet,  
He have a Mistress to salute i'th' street,  
He gets a fair one, and I need not fain,  
To say, the man the Mistress doth maintain,  
Yet is he proud o'th' office, and doth get,  
A Coach to keep her Lightheels from the wet.  
This world must have an end, the roaring gallant  
Hath spent a good part of his father's Talent,  
And now he wants a Chapman for his land,  
And that he sells, (though at the easiest hand)  
To serve his present use: He spends apace,  
Till all is gone, (excepting his disgrace.)  
Now doth he borrow, what before he gave,  
And when there's nothing left would learn to save,  
His Mistrrs doth complain, he's grown unkind,  
And doth his wont bounty, wanting find;  
His tyrant-Tailor, Mercer (merciless)  
Do haunt his Ghost, and threaten his distress,  
With an abridgement of his liberty,  
But he to pay his debts, pleads Poverty.  
He is arrested, and instead of bail  
Doth yield himself, for surety to the jail,  
His Mates, and Mistress, all deny relief,  
Only his Page doth wait upon his grief.   

50. To Nobody.  
THou still art in the fault, though never known,  
Because thou art ashamed thy faults to own,  
Yet, if thou ere be taken in the fact,  
(Till thou confess them all) thou shall be racked  
And though Nobody did the fault commit,  
Yet, Somebody shall surely pay for it.   

51. Rusticus and Thraso.  
A Soldier, (for he seemed to be no less,  
By wearing of a sword, and Idleness.)  
Meeting a Country fellow on the way,  
Told him he wanted means, (being out of pay)  
And that it stood not with his worth to crave it,  
But told him plainly, that of him he'd have it.  
The Rustic Swain, (instead of other Arms,)  
Had but a Staff, to shield himself from harms.  
Nor would his rudeness suffer him to blush,  
But swore he car'de not for his threats a rush,  
And bid him do his worst, He would not part  
So easily from that which cost him smart.  
The soldier (thinking much to be denied,)  
Draws out his sword, And wils him to provide,  
To yield his purse, Or (if he thought it good  
To save his coin) to pay for't with his blood:  
The Country lad, (whose plainness did afford,  
To use a Staff, as well as he a Sword)  
Laid on apace, and sent his blows so fast,  
The Soldier had the worst, and at the last,  
Was fain to fly. Then give me leave to ask,  
Whether of these performed the Soldier's task.   

52. A broken Citizen.  
A Mercer first, And then (the trade him failing  
A Broker, first at whole sale, next retailing,  
Yet still he Broke, nor need he on it stand,  
For still he was a saver by the hand:  
At length he leaves his Wares, & goes to ' th' Wars,  
His broken state, changed to skin breaking Scars.  
But there he found, the difference to be great,  
Between the City fare, and Soldier's meat,  
Yet now, it was too late to flinch, or stray,  
No man must thence, that once comes under pay:  
Nor had he quite forgot his breaking vein,  
But from the Camp, he once more broke again, much.  
Yet being taken (martial-law was such)  
He strait was hanged, for Breaking once too   

53. Of Hircanus.  
Hircanus' (rather Hircius) is of late,  
Grown loose, lascivious, and effeminate,  
For leaving (what he once delighted) Arms,  
He's drawn to looseness by lewd women's charms,  
And in their Company, all day doth lurk,  
Studying of nought but Tent, and Image work.   

54. Life's Tragedy.  
Five Acts, five Actors, (and the world the stage)  
Their persons for performance do engage:  
The King, whose watchful care doth make a crown  
Seem heavy, and sleeps hard in beds of Down.  
Th'aspiring Statesman, whose ambitious Aim,  
Doth to the highest place in Court lay claim.  
The biting Usurer, that grinds the poor,  
And doth his Idoll-devill (Wealth) adore.  
The needy Scholar, who himself t'advance,  
Doth flatter Greatness, and sooth Ignorance.  
The poor neglected Beggar, having got  
His Alms, that rests contented with his lot.  
But mark the Epilogue; Deaths fatal sting,  
Doth make the Beggar equal with the King.   

55. To Logista.  
THough guilty, yet in fault he will not be,  
And why? Lo: I'm not in fault, the fault's in me;  
He's taken in the fact, and yet denies,  
His Will did act (for who his heart espies)  
And yet he is not freed against his will,  
His heart and hand, do therefore both act ill.   

56. The loving Drunkard.  
THe Iuy (wherein Bacchus most delights)  
Is consecrate to him, and to his Rights,  
Because her loving nature doth embrace,  
All other trees that grow, but near her place,  
And so do those whom Bacchus doth infect,  
Profess them love, whom (sober) they neglect.   

57 Time's abuse.  
EAch Creature, did complain of some abuse,  
Offered by others, void of all excuse,  
And unto Man (as judge) they did complain,  
Of Time, who suffered such abuses reign,  
Man (an unfitting judge in such an Act)  
judgeth Time accessary to the Fact,  
And wished him to reform what was amiss,  
(Which Time effecting) made as now it is.  
Then Time complains of Man's abuses to him,  
And for a reformation oft did move him,  
But Man that past (though passed not for Times pleas)  
Times Precious hours, doth add to wrong delays;  
And Time incen'st, sends forth his Sergeant, Death,  
Man to arrest, and stop his vital breath,  
But Man, (grown old in sin and age) did fail,  
To make redress; And Death would take no bail.   

58. Of the merry Host.  
MIne Host, to entertain his weary Guest,  
Would now and then, put forth a merry jest,  
And did so please him, with his jesting vein,  
His Guest resolved a while with him t'remaine.  
But stayed so long, until his merry Host  
Had left no room to score upon the post,  
And calling for a reckoning, Soon he found,  
he'd much out stripped his ordinary bound,  
But ere he went, by jesting this he got;  
To leave his horse (in earnest) for the Shot.   

59 A Serving man.  
'TWas said, he still was Idle, but we find,  
He did of late his wit's apprentice bind,  
To study Compliments, And can relate,  
The newest fashion, which at Courts in date,  
And for his grave discourse, the Coachman said,  
He's grown infavour with my Lady's Maid.  
He is an Imitator of the best,  
But doth mistake a little in the rest,  
Thinking his Master loves him best of all,  
When proved; his Mistress, when fantastical;  
Yet, this one Rule, seldom admits a Fallit,  
He's Cast off (being old) to use a Wallet.   

60. To Superbus.  
THou think'st no man so good, or great as thee,  
No mortal, fit for thy society,  
Unless thou do vouchsafe to take affection  
To one, perchance will soothe thy imperfection:  
Yet, but a little strike the swelling sail  
Of weak Opinions self concealing veil,  
And see whereon thou standest, (Propped up by Clay.)  
Thou soon wouldst steer thy Course another way  
O; be not of thy shame, or weakness proud,  
Which at thy highest pitch, yields but a shroud.  
And if thou needs wilt have thy Birth proclaimed,  
I'll say, Thou art o'th' finest Mortar framed,    


TO THE KIND ACCEPTANCE of his loving Kinsman William Martin of the middle Temple, Gent.  

The Author's Apology for his Satire.  
IF any ask, how I, so young, so raw,  
Durst fasten on this headstrong Time a jaw,  
How I, (that scarce can speak) should dare to write:  
And that a Satire too, (in times despite)  
I answer; Love to Virtue (quite defaced)  
And hate to Vice, (that in her room is placed).  
Then call me Child, or Fool, or both, I care not,  
They both do tell the truth, when wiser dare not    

A Satire.  

MY Muse (employment wanting) chanced to stray  
Out of her beaten path, her common way,  
Walked from the wood into the wilderness,  
(I mean the world of wiles, and wickedness)  
And hating sloth, the cankerworm of wit,  
She did observe what might her turn befit.  
First, she espieed the Great ones, (that should be  
So many Loadstarres to vulgarity)  
Delight in great offences; and support  
Injurious rapines, with a friend in Court.  
Virtue stood bare, whilst Vice sat eminent;  
Learned discourse was turned to compliment,  
Merit was robbed, in seeking of her right,  
And Goodness ouerpoysed with greatest Might.  
Religion (chiefest Pillar of the State,  
The Square and Rule of things legitimate)  
Grew faint for want of zeal and true Professors,  
And was not able to resist oppressors.  
Valour, (in Court and Country) was neglected,  
And homebred Cowardice alone respected:  
He, that abroad, knew how to lead a Band,  
At home, to Peasants stood, with cap in hand,  
And begged an alms; yet went away without,  
'tis fit he should (they say) because he's stout.  
The Laws, (that are the Cinque Ports of the Realm  
Lest Outlaws, by their force should it orewhelm.)  
Grew venial, And where the greatest weight  
Was put into the Scale, 'twas judged for right.  
Yet still reserved a Sting to punish those,  
Which should repine, or (being wronged) oppose.  
Conscience and Equity, (the helps of Law)  
Gave way to Envy's all-devouring jaw,  
And he that could procurea Great Ones Letter  
To colour wrong, was sure to far the better.  
But (leaving those, for fear of known delay,)  
She went into the City to survey.  
Till then, she ne'er was like to lose her sight,  
For every thing was showed her in False-light.  
Smooth tongued Deceit, did on her Credit give it,  
What ere she sold, to make the world believe it.  
The Master, and the servant, did combine,  
Simplicity (with Craft) to undermine.  
Conscience, was put to wrack, and Faith was sold,  
Whilst Love of Lucre did the balance hold,  
And they, that scarce were bound to'th occupation,  
Had learned (in selling wares) Equivocation,  
Plain dealing, was a fashion once in use,  
But now was altered by the Time's abuse.  
Femineall Modesty, (that in the shop,  
With her own presence should the absence prop,  
Of a kind husband) Was conducted forth,  
By a lascivious Courtiers little worth,  
And under colour to bring custom in,  
Gave way to looseness, (customary sin,)  
Hence, Pride (the Cities known Inheritance)  
Became a friend in Court, had countenance,  
Yet so; That still the man of meanest worth,  
Was sure to set the gayest outside forth,  
The Tradesman knows, That they most freely spend,  
Which do on others worth and wealth depend.  
But now the Night drew on, and heaven o'erspread  
Her sable Canopy, Starr-lightned,  
And fearing lest the Night-owles watchfull-crue,  
Should apprehend her, or disturb her view,  
And knowing that their Censure doth reprove,  
(Whilst night Crows scape) the silly harmless Dove,  
She left the City; And her happy lot  
Was, to be lodged that night, in Irus Cot.  
(A Country Shepheard) who in steed of wealth,  
Made Coursest far, & Sweat, the props of health,  
Nor did he much dislike his present state,  
Which (though so mean) was free from wrong & rape,  
Nor had he been so poor, But that of late  
(He said) his Landlord at higher rate,  
Had racked his rent, and threatened to undo him,  
Unless (next feast) he brought some Pullen to him;  
She thence arrived into a Country town,  
Where (once their joy) the Maypole, was pulled down,  
And ask why; 'twas told her by a Swain;  
The better sort, did hold it was profane,  
And yet (he feared) themselves had oft done worse,  
In building houses with the poor man's curse.  
Hence being got, She chanced to arrive,  
Under the goodly roof (the gaudy Hive.)  
Of a Rich Drone, whose tender homebred skin,  
Was fed with honey, (Bees had brought him in.)  
Whose griping Penny-father by extortion,  
And robbing others, raised his son a portion,  
But ere she there could entertainment have,  
The Beggar's Beadle-porter, 'gan to Crave,  
What made her homely outside be so bold,  
To crave relief, where Charity was cold;  
She mildly answered, That she was a friend  
To Learning, though herself, were forced to spend,  
Her time in idleness, for want of that,  
Which many only keep to wonder at;  
But this reply was made, That none dwelled there,  
That knew what learning meant, Nor need they care  
For he that knew, Ilgotten goods to spare,  
And save, was wise enough to make an Heir.  
From hence my Muse (neglected) home doth post,  
And (in despair to get a kinder Host,)  
She left her wand'ring vein, and did retire,  
Again unto the Woods, (with new desire.)  
Where she intends to pass her Time in grief,  
Till frowning Fortune smile, and send Relief.    

To his Dear friend the Author.  

THe Martin is turned Nightingale, strange news!  
Envy not little birds: his sweet tuned Muse,  
Warbles harmonious notes with such true skill,  
As if Apollo did direct his quill,  
Though young, and scarcely fleged, he dares be heard,  
Amongst old chanters, that their garlands reared  
To Cadmus' shaggy woods, be praised by them,  
Whom latter times have styled the wittiest men,  
And to their number added, as for others  
(Whose judgements rankle toothed envy smothers,)  
He cares not, fears not any, no, not those,  
Whose Eastern-breaths will blast a budding Rose.  
His blooming youth may better things produce,  
Though this be good, yet time and longer use,  
Will add perfection, Now he hath done well,  
Then in his next endeavours he'll excel.  
But hark! he sings, silence the Titmouse fits,  
When the shrill Nightingale so near me fits.   
Rob: Cook.   

The Author in answer to his friend.  

WEre I the fowl whom thou wouldst have transformed  
From a black night bird, to a Nightingale:  
Or were my youth with those sweet notes adorned,  
Which any censure should delicious call,  
I might believe affection would not flatter,  
Or that my barren Muse deserved thy praise  
But 'tis thy skill, each ill conformed matter,  
So near perfection as thou canst to raise,  
And herein art thou known a Cook complete,  
In making sweet sauce for unsavoury meat.    

A Postscript.  

IF any bleere-eyde Carping Momus, chance,  
Hoping his own opinion to advance,  
In reading these my lines, to tax my Muse  
with want of skill, or (which is worse) Abuse  
Of any, who perhaps, deserves worse terms  
Then here my want of age, or Art affirms:  
First, let him know, that I was never stored,  
With those rich helps, which Athens doth afford:  
Next, let him lay aside his gally-Spleene,  
And all things else, will without fault be seen.    
FINIS.