TAYLOR'S MOTTO.  
Et habeo, Et Careo, Et Curo.  
London Printed for IT & HG. 1621.    

The Emblem Explained.  
FIrst on a Rock, with raging waves embraced,  
My (seeming fixed) fleeting feet are placed:  
The one's like steadfast hope, the other than  
Presents temptations which encompass men,  
Which he that can resist with Constancy,  
Is a most happy man in Misery.  
The world, which I betwixt my legs do stride,  
Upon the which a book doth seem to ride,  
Shows that in scorn of spite, or envy's force,  
My book doth make the world a Hobby horse.  
Riding the jadish Hackneys of this age,  
In ● plain dealing Satyrs Equipage.  
The Badge upon my breast, shows plainly this,  
I have a Master, 
* Silvesters' nagram ● His I●j●sties ●ame, in ●u Bar●as.  just, and who he is.  
I have a Muse to write, A Boat to row,  
Which both the book and Oar doth plainly show.  
So much for what I have, now that I want,  
The empty purse proclaims, that money's scant,  
Vows my fee simple, or my simple fee,  
And (as I am a Poet,) dwells with me.  
Thus I have want, and with want, I have care,  
That hell's suggestions, not my soul ensnare.  
Whilst what I have, and want, neglected lies,  
I to the way I care for, fix mine eyes.  
My looking on the Sun, doth here express,  
I care to see the Son of righteousness;  
And Reader, in the book, if you inquire for,  
there's more of what I have, and want, and care for.  john Taylor.  

To Every BODY.  
YEt not to every Reader, do I write,  
But only unto such as can Read right:  
And with unpartial censures, can declare,  
As they find things▪ to judge them as they are.  
For in this age of Crittickes, are such store,  
That of a B. will make a Battledore.  
Swallow down Camels, & at Gnatts will strain,  
Make Mountains of small Molehills, & again  
Extenuat faults, or else faults amplify,  
According as their carping censures fly.  
Such are within the Motto of I have,  
But though the gallant Gulls, be ne'er so brave:  
And in their own esteem are deemed wise,  
I have a mind, their follies to despise.  
There are some few that will their judgement season▪  
With mature understanding, and with reason:  
And call a spade a spade, a Sichophant,  
A flattering Knave, and those are th●se I want.  
For those that seem to read, and scarce can spell,  
Who nei●her point nor keep their pe●iods well:  
Who do a man's invention so be martyr▪  
So hangging, drawing, and so cut and quarter,  
Making good lines contemptible thread bare,  
To keep my book from such as those I care.  Adieu: john Taylor  

TAILOR'S MOTTO.  
Et habeo, Et Careo, Et Curo.  
I have, I want, I care.  

IS any man offended? marry gep  
With a horse nightcap, doth your iadeship skip?  
Although you kick, & fling, & wince & spurn,  
Yet all your Coltes-tricks will not serve your turn.  
Vice hath infected you, against virtue's force,  
With more diseases than an aged horse;  
For some of you are hidebound greedily,  
Some have the yellows, of fal●e jellousie,  
Some with the staggers, cannot stand upright:  
Some blind with Babe's, can see to do no right.  
Some foundered▪ that to Church they cannot go,  
Broke wound some, corrupted breath do blow,  
Some hoof bound, some surbated, and some gravelled,  
With travelling, where the● shuuld not have travelled.  
Some are crest fall'n, 
〈…〉  through th●immoderate vice,  
Of gorgeous outsides, smoke, and drink, and dice.  
And some are full of mallenders and scratches,  
The neck-cricke, sp●uins, shouldersplat, and aches.  
The ring-bone, quitterbone, bots, botch, and scab,  
And navelgall, with coursing of the Drab.  
The back-gall, lightgall, wind-gall, shacklegall,  
And last, the spurgall, the worst gall of all.  
A good sound horse, needs not my whip to fear,  
For none but jades are wrung i'th' withers here.  
And do these hackneys think to run on still  
(Without a bit or snaffle) as they will,  
And headstrong prancing through abuses, dash,  
And scape without a Satyr's jerking lash?  
No, they must know the Muses have the might,  
The unjust justly to correct and smite,  
To memorise victorious virtue's praise,  
To make men's fame or shame, out live their days,  
To force injustice (though it do look big)  
With his own nails his cursed grave to dig:  
T'emblaze the goodness of a man that's poor,  
And tell the vices of an Emperor.  
All this the Muses dares, and will, and can,  
Not sparing, fearing flattering any man.  
And so dare I, (if I just cause do see)  
To write, from fear, or hate, or flattery free,  
Or taxing any in particulere,  
But general at all, is written here.  
For had I meant the Satire to have played,  
In Aquafortis, I would whips have jayd,  
And mixed my ink (to make it sharp with all)  
With sublimate, and Cockatrice's gall,  
Which, with a Satyr's spleen, and fury fierce,  
With the least jerk would to the entrailes pierce,  
And with a lash that's ●ustily laid on,  
Would strip and whip the world, unto the bone,  
I know that none at me, will spurn or kick,  
Whose consciences no villainy doth prick:  
And such as those will in their kennels lie,  
And gnar, and snarl, and grumble secretly,  
But with full mouth, they dare not bark or bite,  
But fret within, with rancour and despite.  
For why (before the world) I make a vow;  
There doth not live that male, or female now,  
Against whom I have so much as is a thought,  
Much less, against them are my Verses wrought,  
This Motto in my head, at first I took,  
In imitation of a better book:  
And to good minds I no offence can give,  
To follow good examples, whilst I live.  
For I had rather to abide detraction,  
And be an Ape, in any honest action:  
Then wilfully, into a fault to run,  
Though it before, had by a King been done.  
I have not here reviled against my betters,  
Which makes me fear no dungeon, bolts, or fetters:  
For be he near so great, that doth apply  
My lines unto himself, is worse than I.  
Smooth is my style, my method mean and plain,  
Free from a railing, or invective strain▪  
In harmless fashion here I do declare,  
Mine own rich wants, poor riches, and my care,  
And therefore at my wants let no man grieve,  
Except his charges will the same relieve:  
And for my Wealth (except a rotten Boat)  
I never feared the cutting of my throat.  
And those that for my cares do envy me,  
Shall in them (if they list) great sharers be.  
All my taxations are in general,  
Not any personal, or national:  
The troubles now in France, I touch not here  
Nor of the Britain fleet before Argiere.  
Nor of the forces that the Turk doth bring,  
Against the Poland Kingdom and their King.  
Of Count Buckoy, of bethlehem Gabor, or  
Of Spinnola, or any Ambassador.  
Nor Denmark's King nor of the Emperor,  
Nor Netherlands great Navigable power.  
Nor of Religious points my Muse doth chant,  
Of Romish Catholic, or Protesta●t:  
Of Brownist, H●ssite, or of Caluinist,  
Arminian, Puritan, or Familist,  
Nor against Corporation, trade, or Art,  
My poor inventions speaks in any part.  
And therefore Critic snarl, and snap, and hang,  
If inwardly thou feel my Satyr's fang:  
'tis wisdom in thee, if thy spleen thou hide,  
And mend thyself, before thy faults be spied.  
Thus as I boldly have begun to enter  
Courageously, I'll through the business venture.   

I have.  
I Ha●e a Soul which through it be not good,  
'Twas bought at a dear rate, my Saviour's Blood:  
And though the Devil continually do crave it,  
Yet he that bought it hath most right to have it.  
I (with my soul) have power to understand,  
The sum of my Creator's great Command:  
And yet I have a Law, within me still,  
That doth rebel against his Sacred Will.  
But though (through merit) I have Hell deserved,  
Through Mercy yet I have a Heaven reserved,  
I have a reason, which can difference make  
'Twixt good and bad, to choose, and to forsake:  
I have a working, forward, and free will,  
Wherewith I have inclynded to do ill.  
I have a Conscience, which doth tell me true▪  
That for my sins the wrath of God is due.  
And to relieve that Conscience terrified,  
I have a Faith, in Ie●us Crucifide.  
I have a judgement, by the which I see,  
And judge, how good and bad things different be:  
And with just Censure, I distinguish can,  
The odds between a monster and a man.  
But when with judgement on myself I look,  
I strait ways am with fear and horror struck:  
And finding my afflicted Conscience grudged,  
I judge myself, for fear of being judged.  
I have a Knowledge, by the which I know,  
That all that's good in me, God did bestow:  
And all my thoughts, and words, and actions evil,  
I have them (like my neighbours) from the Devil.  
By this my Knowledge, sometimes skill I have,  
To know an honest man, and know a knave:  
To know where I fare well, to come again,  
Where Friends for love, do only entertain.  
To know that Envy, Pride and Lechery,  
Sloth, Wrath, and Avarice, and Gluttony,  
Doth make the world dance Antique in a string,  
And all their Followers to confusion bring.  
I know that griping base Extortion,  
As it gets wealth without proportion,  
e'en so, without proportion, rule or measure,  
Shall be consumed, that most accursed Treasure.  
I know a swearer, when I hear his Oaths,  
I know a Gull although he wear good clothes,  
I know a Prodigal, by's lavish spending,  
I know a Fool (my self) by too much lending.  
I know I have discharged others Score,  
But will (for aught I know) do so no more.  
I know, that four and twenty letters teaches  
All the whole world's tongues, languages & spe●ches.  
I know that I not any word can frame,  
But in some Language 'tis an Annagram.  
And though the world of sundry parts consists,  
Yet all the world are Anagramatists.  
I know the numbers numberless of faces,  
That were, are, shall be, at all times, and places,  
Are all unlike each other, for we see  
They each from other may distinguished be.  
I know the difference of these voices are,  
Unlike each other, being near, or far.  
And that men's several writings are contrary,  
And in some things from one another vary,  
And by this knowledge I have inward sight,  
How that the works of God are infinite.  
I have credulity, that when I here  
A man avouch a thing, protest and swear▪  
I have given credit to him by and by,  
Although the wicked wretch did swear and lie,  
Because I have a hope that want of grace,  
Doth not our Maker's Image quite deface.  
As that a man who hath wit, sense, or reason,  
Dares to commit so horrible a treason,  
As to call God to witness of his lies,  
Thereby to countenance his villainies.  
Thus through simplicity, and light belief,  
I have believed an arrant whore, or thief.  
I have opinion, and have ever had,  
That when I see a staggering drunken swad▪  
Then that a man worse than an Ass, I see,  
Because an Ass will never drunken be.  
And yet in mine opinion I am bold,  
(That friendship and society to hold)  
The merry spending of an idle hour,  
To take a cup, or two, or three, or four▪  
If soberly the meeting be well ended,  
'tis tolerable, and to be commended.  
And yet I have my imperfections to,  
Which makes me daily do, as others do:  
For I l●ke (many rich men) now and than,  
Make show to be a very honest man:  
But strong temptations dog me every hour,  
Which to resist I have so little power,  
That if (perhaps) I had their means, I think  
I should (as they do) di●e and drab and drink,  
And through infirmity, or wilfulness,  
Run greedily to Riots vain excess:  
For Honour's changes Manners, wealth and place  
Are (oftentimes) temptations to disgrace,  
And did some great men cast up their account,  
To what their vain expenses do amount:  
So much for needless quartes, so much for smoke,  
Paid so much for Eringoes, (to provoke)  
So much for Coach-hire, so much for a whore,  
With Item not three halfpences to the poor.  
And who knows, if I had their meanus, I say  
But I should be as very a K●aue as they.  
For I have imperfections, and a will  
And frail infirmities, t'atempt what's ill,  
That I in no good action cannot stand,  
Except supported by th'Almighties hand.  
I have a sense, and feeling sympathy,  
Of others woe, and want, and misery:  
If one man doth do good, another bad  
I (for them both) can be both glad, and sad.  
For when I see a Great man raised hie,  
I have a sense of his Nobility,  
And wish, that all his Actions still may be,  
To make him worthy of his dignity.  
But when I see that Fortune 'ginnes to frown,  
And from her fickle wheel to cast them down,  
Though their foul faults I hate and do abhor,  
Yet as theyare men, I have a pity for.  
For when a whore is whipped, a Bawd it'h Cart,  
A drunkard in the stocks, for his desert:  
An arrant Knave, or perjured wretch to stand,  
And makes the Pillory his falling band;  
Or one whose backward Fortune doth prevail,  
To make a bri●le of a Horses ●aile,  
With riding Retrograde, it'h streets proclaim,  
On their own backs & breasts, their faults & shame.  
When any Villain for his fault is tortured,  
A Thief, or Traitor, hanged, or drawn and quartered.  
As I do hope for mercy from Above,  
As they are men they do my pity move.  
And I do grieve the Devil hath so much power,  
Man's Reason, and Allegiance to devour:  
And that of Grace they laid no faster hold,  
But fall into these mischiefs manifold.  
I have a Fortune that attends on me,  
For never will I Fortune's vassal be:  
And let her frown or smile, or hang herself,  
And g●ue me either poverty or pelf,  
Or cast me low, or lift me up on hie,  
Yet (spite her teeth) I'll live until I die.  
For all man's outward happiness, are things  
Tied and bound fast to fickle Fortune's wings:  
Which when she li●t she will alight and stay,  
And wh●● her wheel but turns she flies away.  
She's bountiful to fools, and therefore I  
Have small share in her liberality.  
On wise men she doth favours seldom fix,  
For wisdom scorns her slights and juggling tricks,  
And yet no 〈◊〉 of man alive,  
(If Fortune frown, on him) can make him thrive.  
For why, so powerful is the purblind witch,  
To raise up knaves, and make fools devilish rich,  
To set an Ass on top of all her wheel,  
And to kick virtue backward, with her heel,  
To raise 〈◊〉 Piper, Pander, or a jester,  
And therefore hang the hag, I do detest her.  
She hath strange tricks, and works for diverse end●,  
To make a great man have more kin than friends,  
But seldom she this good report doth win,  
To make a poor man have more friends than kin.  
A King in's Throne, a general in the war,  
Places of best command, and reverence are.  
But yet if Fortune frown on their affairs,  
They shallbe rich in nothing but in cares.  
she's like a I●nus with a double face,  
To smile and lower; to grace, and to disgrace;  
She loves and loathes, together at an instant,  
And in inconstancy is only constant.  
Uncertain certain, never loves to settle,  
But here, there, every where; in dock out nettle.  
The man whom all her frowns or favours spurns,  
Regardeth not her wheel, how oft it turns.  
A wise man knows she's easier found, then kept  
And as she's good, or bad, he doth accept.  
He knows she comes, intending not to stay,  
And gives but what she means to t●ke away.  
For by discretion it is truly known,  
Her liberal gifts she holds still as her own.  
And unto me her bounty hath been such,  
That if she take't again I care not much.  
I have a love which I to God do owe,  
With which I have a fear doth in me grow:  
I love him for his goodness, and I fear,  
To anger him, that hath loved me so dear▪  
I fear in love, as he's a gracious God,  
Not love for fear of his revenging Rod.  
And ●hus a loving fear in me I have,  
L●ke an adopted son, not like a slave.  
I have a King whom I am bound unto,  
To do him all the service, I can do:  
T● whom when I shall in Allegiance fail,  
Let all the Devils in hell my soul anmaile;  
If any i● his government abide,  
In whom foul Treacherous malice doth reside  
Against him, his Royal offspring or his friends,  
I wish that Halters may be all their ●●ds.  
And those that cannot most unfeignedly,  
Say this, and swear, as confident as I:  
Of what degree so ere, I wish (one hour)  
They were, in some kind skilful Hangman's power.  
I have a life was lent me 'fore my birth,  
By the great Landlord both of Heaven and Earth:  
But though but one way unto life is common,  
For All that ever yet was borne of woman,  
Yet are there many thousand ways for death,  
To dispossess us, of our lives, and breath.  
For why, the Lord of life (that life doth make)  
Will (as he pleaseth) life both give and take,  
And let me (blameless) suffer punishment,  
Or loss of goods, or causeless banishment,  
Let me be ●ang'd, or burned or stabbed, or drowned,  
All's one to me, so still my Faith keep sound,  
Then let my life be ended, as God will▪  
This is my mind, and hope shallbe so still:  
To get to Heaven, come thousands deaths together,  
theyare welcome pleasures, if they bring me thither.  
I know for certain, all Mortality,  
When it begins to live, begins to dye;  
And when our lives that back again we give,  
We ever endless then do dye, or live.  
When good men wish long life, 'tis understood  
That they would longer live, to do more good:  
But when a bad man wisheth to live long,  
It is because he fain would do mo●e wrong.  
And this one reason gives me much content,  
Thought I shall have no Marble Monnument,  
Where my corrupted Carcase may inherit.  
With Epitaphs, to blaze my want of merit,  
To waste as much to polish and beguiled,  
As would a charitable Almshouse build.  
All which, a gouty Usurer, or worse,  
May have, and have poor people's heavy cu●se,  
That many times the senseless Ma●ble weeps,  
Because the execrated corpse it keeps.  
When the mean space perhap's the wretched soul,  
In flames unquenchable doth yell and bowl.  
I have a hope, that doth my hea●t refresh.  
How e'er my soul be sundered, from my flesh:  
Although I have no friends to mourn in sack,  
With merry insides, and with outsides black;  
Though ne'er so poorly they my corpse inter,  
Without bell, book or painted Sepulchre,  
Although I miss these trifles Transitory,  
I have a hope my soul shall mount to glory.  
I have a vain in Poetry, and can  
Set forth a knave to be an honest man;  
I can my Verses in such habit clad,  
‛ Tabuse the good, and magnify the bad.  
I can write (if I li●t) nor Rhyme or Reason,  
And talk of felony, and whistle Treason.  
And Libel against goodness (if I would)  
And against misery could rail and scold;  
Fowl Treachery I could mince out in parts,  
Like Vintner's pots, half pints, and pints, and quarts.  
Even so could I, with Libles base abound,  
From a grain weight or scruple, to a pound,  
With a low note I could both say or sing,  
As much as would me unto Newgate bring.  
And straining of my voice a little higher,  
I could obtain the Fleet at my desire:  
A little more advancing of my note,  
I from the Fleet, might to the Gatehouse float.  
Last, above Ela raising but my power,  
I might, in state be mounted to the Tower.  
Thus could my Muse (If I would be so base)  
Run careless by degrees, into disgrace,  
But that for love of goodness I forbear,  
And not for any servile slavish fear.  
Time serving vassals, shall not me applaud,  
For making of my Verse a great man's Bawd:  
To set a lustre, and a flatt●●ing gloss,  
On a dishonourable lump of dross;  
To sl●bber o'er a Ladies homely feature,  
And set her forth for a most beauteous creature.  
No● shall my free invention, stoop t'adore,  
A fowl diseased, pocky, painted whore.  
Rewards or b●●bes my Muse shall ne'er entice,  
To wrong fair Virtue, or to honour Vice,  
But as my Conscience doth inform me still,  
So will I praise the good, condemn the ill.  
That man is most to be abhorred of men,  
Who in his cursed hand dares take a pen,  
Or be a means to publish at the press,  
Profaned lines, or obscene beastliness,  
Sc●●illitie▪ or known a parant lies,  
To animate or cover villainies;  
A ●alter for such Poets, stead of Bays,  
Wh● make the Muse's whores●, much worse than T●ais▪  
Such Rascals make the heliconian well,  
(〈…〉 and respect) like hell.  
●nd of 〈◊〉, good m●n justly are rewarded,  
〈◊〉 and scorned l●ke hellhounds, unregarded.  
For Poetry (〈…〉 be vs● aright)  
〈…〉 mercy, and his might:  
For 〈…〉 ignorance) it hath some foes,  
〈◊〉 may be praised in Verse, as well as prose.  
〈…〉 are fit for Kings,  
To 〈◊〉 them Metaphorical) such things  
〈…〉 they should know and hear,  
〈◊〉 none but Poets dare to speak for fear▪  
A Poet's 〈◊〉 a Poet, and his trade  
Is still to make: but Orators, are made.  
All Arts are taught and learnt, we daily see,  
But taught, a Poet never yet could be.  
And as the ●ree is by the fruit well known,  
So by his writing is a Poet shown;  
If he be 〈◊〉 disposed, he'll well indite,  
If ill 〈…〉 viciously will write.  
And 〈…〉 or bad, in his condition,  
His 〈◊〉 ●ill sh●w his inward disposition.  
And to 〈◊〉 this point, and make an end,  
The best amongst them hath much need to mend.  
I ha●● a tongue, and could both swear and lie,  
(I● to such customs▪ I would it apply)  
But often swearing now and then forswears,  
And lying, a man's credit quite out wears;  
I'll trust 〈◊〉 arrant Th●●fe to keep my purse,  
As soon as one that lou●● to swear and curse:  
For can it be that he that takes a use,  
And custom, God in swearing to abuse,  
Can it be thought he will make Conscience then,  
To play the false dissembling Knave with men?  
Nor can my supposition ever dream,  
That he who dares his Maker's name blaspheme,  
But that if Time would but occasions bring,  
He would betray his Country, and his King.  
For 'tis a Maximm, (no man can convince)  
The man that fears not God, loves not his Prince.  
And ●e that cares not for his soul, I think,  
Respects not if his Country swim or sink.  
To lying I bear such a ha●e that I  
Will never (wittingly) affirm a lie:  
I will not say, but I a lie may say,  
But I will not affirm it any way:  
'tis the maintaining falsehoods to be true,  
To whom a liars odious name is due.  
That all untruths are falsehoods, none denies,  
But sure all falsehoods cannot be called lies.  
For Esop's fables, Ovid's artlike fictions,  
(Although they are ' against truth mere contradictions,)  
Of humane transformations from their kind,  
Of disputations 'twixt the Sun, and win●e,  
Of fowls, and beasts, and rivers, trees, and stones,  
To tell each other of their joys or moans,  
Of men transformed to dogs, bears, bulls, swine, apes,  
Which shows that treasons, murders, incests, rapes;  
Turns men into worse forms then beastly creatures,  
When reason's dispossessed by brutish natures.  
A fiction, fable, or a harmless jest,  
I tolerate, but lies I do detest.  
Th'Egyptians had a Law, that every liar,  
Should straight way be beheaded, for their hire.  
But if that Law were executed here,  
Few Pettifoggers would be left I fear.  
The very Court would forfeit now and than,  
Many a complementing Gentleman.  
But sure the Ci●ty were the greatest share,  
Where lying buys and sells, a world of ware;  
The Country sometimes would a head allow,  
In selling Corn, a Horse, a Sow, a Cow:  
And then a headsman would get store of pelf,  
If he could but refrain to lie himself.  
I have a memory like (as I do find)  
A wallet, half before, and half behind.  
In the forepart my neighbour's faults I put,  
Behind (quite from my sight) mine own are 〈◊〉.  
Thus partiality runs like a stream,  
To spy a Moat, and not to see a Beam.  
But when as reason memory collects.  
T'exammin, my own impotent defects,  
Then doth it unto me such things record,  
As makes me (almost) of myself abhorred.  
It tells me I was in corruption borne,  
And to corruption that I shall return.  
It tells me that betwixt my birth and this,  
I have done thousand thousand things amiss,  
It bids me to remember what I am,  
To what place I must go, and whence I came,  
And with these thoughts, when as my mind is high,  
I am dejected, through humility.  
And this all great men well remember may,  
They are but Honourable clods of clay:  
Or Reverend Right Worshipful grave dust,  
And (whence they came) again they thither must.  
I say if foolish females, with fair features,  
Would but remember they were Mortal Creatures:  
And that as their good Grandames died before,  
e'en so must they, and must be seen no more,  
And all their gaudy glory be forgot,  
Whilst they shall lie, consume, and stink, and rot.  
If these things, they would to remembrance call,  
Their honeyed pleasures, would be mixed with Gall.  
And all and every one their course would bend▪  
Within themselves, what is amiss to mend.  
The memory, unto the soul is food,  
That thinks, & says, & doth the things that's good.  
I have a hea●t doth like a Monarch reign,  
Who in my Microcosm, doth laws ordain:  
Affections, Senses, Passions, Subjects Slaves,  
Some like good Courtiers; some like flattering knaves,  
With show of Virtue, hiding of their Vice,  
They bring their Lord t'a foolish Paradise,  
For when the heart thinks swearing an abuse,  
Then Anger says it is a manly use,  
And when to quaff, the mind hath no intent,  
Affection says 'tis ho●est merriment,  
The mind calls Lechery abomination,  
Sense says 'tis Gentlemanlike recreation,  
The mind holds Coveteousnes worse than theft,  
Sense calls it Husbandry, and frugal thrift,  
Reason delights in liberality,  
Sense counsels it to prodigality.  
And thus these vassals do their King misled,  
(Whilst Reason seems to be asleep or dead.)  
And thus this little Kingdom man doth fade,  
With hearing Traitors, when they do persuade.  
I have experience, by the which I find,  
That some though poor in purse, are rich in mind:  
And they that have of wealth the greatest store,  
Are (in content) most miserable poor,  
there's many a Mammanist doth houses keep,  
With lofty Turrets, and with Sellers deep:  
With a most stately porch, and spacious hall,  
And kitchen, lesser than a Cobbler's stall  
Where (in two days) a poor half ●acke of Mutton,  
Proclaims the Master of the house, no Glutton.  
Where foul bewitching gold in bondage is,  
(●s may the keepers be, in hell's abyss.)  
Where waking thoughts, keeps still the mind oppressed  
And frightful dreams, makes ●est to be unrest,  
And where as fears by night, and doubts by day  
Drives happiness, and sweet content away.  
M●●h better than is my estate than theirs,  
I ha●e content, and they the golden cares:  
I can feed well at home, and sound sleep,  
And what I have not care to lose or keep.  
I have consideration, to perceive,  
What's best for me to take, and what to leave▪  
When I consider, pleasures past and gone,  
Doth add affliction, to affliction,  
Though he that's low can very hardly rise,  
Yet he that'● high, oft falls to miseries.  
He that is down, his fear's already past,  
Whilst he that's up may have a slippery cast.  
I do consider, that I oft did crave,  
Things both from God and men, unfit to have:  
And many times, through in considerate wi●,  
Guilts giue●● and receivers, are unfit.  
He 〈◊〉 a liberal man, that doth deny,  
That which will do the askers injury;  
There i● a bounty, which I will reveal,  
That he ne'er gives in vain that gives in zeal:  
As prodigality, brings wan●, and woes,  
So liberality, makes friends of foes.  
'tis better for a man his purse to hold,  
Then give to make a beggar proud, or bold,  
True bounty, is (on earth) a special grace,  
And hath in heaven prepared a glorious place.  
For as the Sun unto the moon gives light,  
Which light she gives again to us by night:  
So God doth give his gifts to libr'all men,  
Which they (to men that want) do give again.  
But he that gives should straight forget it quite,  
What they that take, in memory should write.  
And I accept a like, great gifts, and small,  
Only to me the giver's mind is all.  
'tis a base bounty when a man relieves,  
These prostituted whores, or knaves, or Theives,  
For still the Devil is bountiful to those,  
That unto virtue are in●etterate foes.  
But many hold it for a generous part,  
To give a man that's drunk the another's quart:  
And in a humour (to have Drawers trouble)  
Throw pottle Pots down stairs, to come up double▪  
When straight upon their knees, they all accord,  
To drink a health to some unworthy Lord:  
Some fusty Madam, or some carpet Knight,  
●Till they can neither speak, or stand upright.  
Then being all abominable drunk,  
A Gallant drinks a health unto his Punk:  
The which withal Sir Reverence straight they are,  
Injoind to do, upon their knees, all bare.  
If any dare deny to pledge the Drab,  
he's in great danger of a mortal Stab:  
For he accounts it worse than blasphemy,  
That one should there his Mistress health deny.  
Until at last, o'er charged with to much wine,  
They wallow in their vomits, worse than swine:  
Thus many a beastly rude Barbarian,  
Gains little of a liberal Gentleman.  
A worthy spirit, a rare Noble spark,  
True bred, a merry Greek, or man of mark.  
A right mad Trojan, a most excellent blade,  
As bountiful a man as e'er God made.  
Thus many an idle fellow gets a name  
Of Bountiful, through deeds of sin and shame.  
Indeed he's liberal, that spends health and wealth,  
And precious Time, in drinking others health:  
If dropsy Drunkards fall'n to poverty,  
Should beg a Pension of his Majesty,  
And in their humble suits would make it known,  
How drinking of his healths, they lost their own,  
I think, his Highness ●ustly would relieve them,  
And (for Rewards) to each a Halter give them.  
But is't not stran●●, that man so mad should be,  
Idolatrous▪ bareheaded on his knee,  
Bow and fall down unto an absent Whore,  
As th'only Saint (or devil) he doth adore?  
But e'er he'll kneel unto his God, to crave  
For mercy, his infected soul to save:  
Before he'll beg God's pardon for his crimes,  
He swears him over and over a hundred times,  
And takes it for a Gentlemanlike grace,  
To spit his venom against his Maker's face,  
And with his Oaths, as false as black is white,  
God damn him, or renounce, or sink him quite:  
Refuse him (or if not refuse) for sake him,  
And now and then swears, Then the Devil take him.  
Thus he in ordinary talk affords,  
Amongst (truth & lies) more oaths than other words,  
These are the bounteous youths I car● not for,  
And these I have a heart that doth abhor.  
From a rich knave of worshipful degree,  
I have a mind to spare my cap and knee:  
To a good man that's honest, poor and wise,  
I have a heart that my affection ties.  
Some sixteen times I on the Seas have been,  
In Spain and Germany both out and in,  
At Cales, at Ostend, Prague, and ma●● a where,  
And yet I do thank God, I'm here, Cha● here.  
I have a Wife which I was wont to praise,  
But that was in my younger wooing days:  
And though she's neither Shrew nor Sheep (I vow  
With justice) I cannot dispraise her now.  
She hath an Instrument (that's ever strung,  
To exercise my patience on) her tongue.  
But past all question, and beyond all doubt,  
she'll ne'er infect my forehead with the Gout.  
A married man (some say) has two days gladness,  
And all his life else, is a lingering sadness:  
The one days mirth is when he first is married,  
The other's when his wife's to burying carried.  
One I have had, should I the other see,  
It could not be a day of mirth to me.  
For I (as many have) when I did woe,  
Myself (in tying fast) did not undo:  
But I have by my long experience found,  
I had been undone, had I not been bound.  
I have my bonds of marriage long enjoyed,  
And do not wish my obligation void.  
I have a house where I do eat and sleep,  
But bread nor meat, or drink in it (I keep.)  
For many Lords, ●nd great men keep good meat,  
But I spend mine, to make good fellows eat.  
And though no Turrets do my house bedeck,  
There one may break his fast, before his neck.  
I have a trade, much like an Alchemist,  
That ofttimes by extraction, if I list,  
With sweeting labour at a wooden Ore,  
I'll get the coined refined silver Ore.  
Which I count better than the sharking tricks,  
Of cuz'ning Tradesmen, or rich Politikes,  
Or any proud fool, ne'er so proud or wise,  
That doth my needful honest trade despise.  
I have some troubles, by the which I know,  
How flattering friends do ebb, and foes do flow:  
Prosperity increaseth friendship much,  
But adverse Fortune tries them with the touch.  
By troubles, and by crosses I gain wit,  
When daily pleasures do diminish it.  
Thus (by his power that All-sufficient is)  
I have had time and power to write all this:  
And I have hope that He the time will grant,  
That I may tell of some things that I want,  
The Motto of I have is large and wide,  
Which largely here, I could have amply fide,  
For I have joy, and Love, and Comforts here,  
And I have folly, sorrow, doubt and fear;  
I have (in part) my frailty here revealed,  
I have some Vices which I have concealed▪  
I have done as I have, then if I have  
Bu● pleased my friends, I have gained what I crave.  
Ye● my, I have, as great is every jot,  
And as small too as any man's have not.   

Et Careo, I want.  
STrange is the penance of my humble Muse,  
That must tell what I want without excuse.  
What man (without much torture) would confess  
His want, his beggary, and guiltiness;  
But that the World would think him to be mad,  
Or that he very small discretion had?  
Yet (at this time) it is my fatal lor,  
To tell I want, what other men want not.  
And therefore to declare my wants most plain  
I want a bragging or a boasting vain;  
In words or writing, any ways to frame,  
To make myself seem better than I am.  
I want fair virtue to direct my course,  
And stand against the shock of vices force;  
And (of myself) I no way can resist,  
Against Hell, the World, the Flesh, or Antichrist;  
For ought I know, I want a courage stout,  
Afflictions and temptations to keep out:  
And I do fear should time of trial come,  
My constancy would bide no Martyrdom.  
But to help what I want, I want despair,  
And hope supplies my want in all my care.  
And as I want that boldfaced impudence,  
As may give just occasion of offence:  
So do I want base flattery with my pen,  
To soothe myself, or to tax other men.  
I do want goodness: for I clearly see,  
All good I do or say, is not from me.  
And amongst all the benefits I crave,  
Goodness I want, and goodness I would have.  
A man may seem too just, too full of wit,  
But to be too good, never man was yet.  
He that is great, is not made good thereby,  
But he that's good, is great continually.  
Thus great and good, together's rare and scant,  
Whilst I no greatness have, all goodness want.  
I do want wit t'invent▪ conceive and write,  
To move myself or others to delight:  
But what a good wit is, I partly know,  
Which (as I can) I will define and show.  
Wit is the offspring of a working brain,  
That will be labouring, though it be in vain:  
'Tis called the Mother wit, by which I find,  
she's of the bearing, breeding, femall-kind.  
And some have of their mother's wit such store,  
That in their father's wisdom they are poor.  
A good wit is a virtue that excels,  
And is the house where understanding dwells:  
With whom the mind, the memory and sense,  
And reason keep continual residence:  
For why, if Reason chance to be away,  
Wit, (like a Colt) breaks loose and runs astray.  
There's many that have got their wealth by wit:  
But never wealth had power to purchase it.  
Rich fools, and witty beggars every where,  
Are the third part of Mankind very near.  
And little friendship doth blind Fortune grant  
To me; for wit and money both I want.  
Yet for mine ears price I could undertake  
To buy as much as would a Libel make:  
Or I could have as much, as fi●s these times  
With worthless jests, or beastly scurvy Rhymes▪  
To serve some Lord, and be a man of note,  
Or wear a guarded unregarded Coat.  
Wit for a fool I think enough I have;  
But I want wit to play the crafty knave:  
And then the Proverb I should finely fit,  
In playing of the fool, for want of wit.  
To Archie (at the Court) I'll make a jaunt,  
For he can teach me any thing I want,  
And he will teach me for a slender fee,  
A foolish knave, or knavish fool to be.  
Garret grows old and honest, and withal,  
His skill in knavish fooling is but small:  
The Knight o'th' Sun can caper, dance and leap▪  
And make a man small sport exceeding cheap  
In the old time a wiseman was a fool,  
That had compared himself with great Otoole:  
But his good days are past, he's down the wind,  
In both his eyes and understanding blind.  
But holla holla Muse, come back again,  
I was half ravished with a fooling vain:  
And, if I had gone forward with full speed,  
I'd played the fool for want of wit indeed.  
As Frogs in muddy ditches use to breed,  
So there's a wit that doth from Wine proceed:  
And some do whet their wits so much thereon,  
Till all the sharpness and the steel is gone;  
With nothing left but back, the edge gone quite▪  
Like an old Cat, can neither scratch nor bite.  
The wit I want, I have, y●t yields no profit,  
Because a fool hath still the keeping of it.  
Which had it in a Wiseman's head been planted,  
I should not now want what I long have wanted;  
I want that undermining policy;  
To purchase wealth with foul dishonesty:  
And I do want, and still shall want, I hope,  
Such actions as may well deserve a Rope.  
I want a mind, bad company to haunt,  
Which if I do, it seems I foresight wan●▪  
I want a Kingdom and a Crown to wear,  
And with that want, I want a world of care:  
But might I be a King, I would refuse it,  
Because I do want wisdom how to use it.  
When an unworthy man obtains the same,  
he's razed to high preferment for his shame▪  
For why, the office of a King is such,  
And of such reverence as I dare not touch:  
Like to the Thunder, is his voice expressed,  
His Majesty, as lightning from the East,  
And though he want the art of making breath,  
he's like a Demigod, of life and death.  
And as Kings (before God) are all but men,  
So before men, they all are gods again.  
he's a good King, whose virtues are approved,  
Feared for his justice, for his m●rcy loved:  
Who patterns all his Royal dignity,  
By the just rule of Heaven's high Majesty,  
Who can distribute (to good men's content)  
Reward for virtue, vices punishment,  
Who loves a poor man's goodness, and doth hate  
All soul corruption in a man of State,  
Combined in love with Princes near and far,  
Most affable in peace, powerful in war:  
And above all, religious, full of zeal,  
To guard the Church, & guide the Common weal.  
And though such Kings as this hath seldom been;  
Yet such a King as this I oft have seen.  
And as I want a Regal power and fame,  
I want Revenues to maintain the same:  
I think a King that's made of Gingerbread  
His Subjects would obey him with more dread: 
I should believe all were Gold that glisters.   
And any knave that could but kiss his Claw,  
And make a leg, would make me but jack-daw.  
And as the Swallow all the Summer stays,  
And when the winter comes, he flies his ways:  
So flatterers would adore my happiness,  
And take their flight, and leave me in distress.  
To praise my vices, all the swarm of them  
Would flock, and all my virtues would condemn.  
Much worse than Ravens is their flattery,  
For Ravens eat not men until they die:  
But so a flattering knave may get and thrive,  
He daily will devour a man alive.  
Besides, the body only feeds the Fowl:  
But flattery oft consumes both body and soul.  
For like to trencher-Flies they ever prove,  
Who still wait more for lucre then for love.  
Thus, though I want a Kingly power Royal,  
'Tis against my will to want will to be loyal.  
And if that any King alive there be  
That willingly would change estates with me,  
I in my bargain should have gold for brass,  
And he would be accounted but an Ass.  
For any King's estate, be't ne'er so bad,  
To change it with john Taylor, were stark mad,  
A King of Clubs keeps subjects in more awe:  
For he commands his Knave (except at Maw)  
A King of Spades hath more wit in his pate,  
To delve into the secrets of his state:  
The King of Diamonds is too rich and wise,  
To change his pleasures for my miseries.  
And for the King of Hearts, he's so beloved,  
That to exchange with me, he'll ne'er be moved,  
For I am full of fears and dangerous doubts,  
And poorer far than is a King of Clouts:  
I therefore will a Subject still remain,  
And learn to serve that am unfit to reign.  
I want ten millions of good coined gold,  
And with that want, want troubles manifold:  
But if I had so much, what man can tell,  
But that I should want grace to use it well?  
Within the walls and skirts of Troynovant,  
Many that have most goods, most goodness want:  
For Charity and Riches seldom can  
Have both possession in a wealthy man.  
Fools that are rich with multitudes of Pieces,  
Are like poor simple sheep with golden fleeces;  
A knave, that for his wealth doth worship get,  
Is like the Devil that is a cockhorse set.  
For money hath his nature in it still,  
Slave to the goodman, master to the ill.  
The Covetous amidst his store is poor,  
The mind content is rich, and seeks no more.  
Who covets most, hath least; who covets least,  
Hath most; for why, sufficient is a feast.  
Wealth unto mischiefs might my mind inchant,  
And therefore 'tis much good for me I want.  
I want a Son and Heir, and I perceive,  
That he no portion could from me receive;  
Unless I could bequeath him Poetry,  
To add more poverty to poverty:  
But as I do want Children, I want care,  
And jealousy, in which some Fathers are:  
For many of them rake and toil (God wot)  
To gather wealth for Heirs they ne'er begot:  
And run to Hell (through mischiefs) greedily  
For other men's misgotten Bastardy.  
The greatest females underneath the sky,  
Are but frail vessels of mortality:  
And if that Grace and Ver●ue be away,  
there's Honour's shame, and Chastity's decay.  
For, if inconstancy doth keep the door,  
Lust enters, and my Lady proves a Whore:  
And so a Bastard to the World may come,  
Perhaps begotten by some stable Groom;  
Whom the fork-headed, her cornuted Knight  
May play and dandle with, with great delight,  
And thus by one base misbegotten son,  
Gentility in a wrong line may run:  
And thus foul lust to worship may prefer  
The mongrel Issue of a Fruterer,  
Or yeoman of the Bottles it may be,  
Or some unmannerd rascal worse than he,  
And though the Stripling up in years doth grow,  
He shall want wit his father how to know:  
But he shall know one that will father him,  
And with good bringing up maintain him trim:  
And loves him with affection, as he were  
His own most natural Primogeniter. 
In my English Latin Richard Swary, I find or coined this worthy word.   
The old Knight dies and freely gives him all,  
And he being grown a Gallant fair and tall,  
If with his cursed wealth he purchase can,  
To wed the Daughter of some Nobleman,  
And being thus ennobled much thereby,  
Through his Alliance with Nobility;  
He may in time possess an honoured state,  
Which God doth curse, and all good people hate:  
Then shall be searched, 
The Heralds of this Office dwell at Nullibi.  if possible it be,  
Before cain's birth, to find his Pedigree:  
Then is some famous coat of Arms contrived,  
From many worthy families derived.  
And thus may Lust & Wealth raise many a Clown,  
To Reputation, and to high Renown.  
Thus many good men are deceived (perhaps)  
In bowing of their knees, and doffing Caps,  
And courteously commit Idolatry,  
To a proud branch of Lust and Lechery.  
For my part, I want means to gull men so,  
I may be gulled with others goodly show.  
If any find my Children meat or cloth,  
I got them in my sleep, I'll take mine oath,  
I cannot be deceived in my Heirs,  
As some that are my betters may in theirs,  
And as no Bastards my free mind perplexeth,  
So I want jealousy which some men vexeth.  
Should thousand such as Hercules combine,  
T'inspire with jealousy this breast of mine;  
Nor all the Goatish foul luxurious brood,  
Could not possess me with that frantic mood●,  
She that I have I know her continence,  
And she as well doth know my confidence;  
Any yet, for ought you know, both she and I  
May want both honesty and jealousy:  
Though of ourselves our knowledge is but small;  
Yet somewhat we do know, and God knows all.  
The man, whose wife will be a whore indeed,  
His jealousy stands but in little steed:  
Nor can bolts, locks or walls of brass suffice  
Briareus hundred hands nor Argos eyes;  
Nor all the wit in man or Devil's pate,  
Can alter any man's allotted fate:  
For if a Woman be to lewdness given,  
And is not guided with the grace of Heaven;  
She will find opportunity and time,  
In spite of watch or ward to do the Crime:  
But if she be with heavenly blessings graced,  
As outward beautiful, and inward chaste;  
Then may foul jealousy and false suspicion  
Against her nature alter her condition,  
From good to bad, from bad to naught, and worse,  
And turn her virtues to a vicious course.  
For nothing can an honest mind infect,  
So soon as jealousy and false suspect:  
And this foul Fury many times hath wrought▪  
To make the bad worse, and the good stark naught:  
But never yet by it (as I could hear)  
The good or bad, one jot the better were:  
And therefore be my wife, or good, or ill,  
I jealousy do want, and want it will.  
I want dissimulation to appear,  
A friend to those, to whom I hatred bear:  
I want the knowledge of the thriving Art▪  
A holy outside and a hollow heart:  
But as I am, the same I'll ever seem,  
Not worse, or better, in mine own esteem,  
For what attire so ere my corpse doth hide,  
Or whether I do go on foot or ride:  
Or were I with the King's high favour graced,  
Or at a great Lords board, at dinner placed,  
And should I have all this, I were no more  
But a poor Waterman, that at his Oar  
Doth (for a living) labour, tug, and pull,  
And carries both the Gallant and the gull.  
How ever others do esteem of me,  
Yet as I am, I know myself to be.  
If I do chance to be in company,  
Well welcomed, amongst true Gentility,  
I know in them it is a courteous part,  
And that in me it can be no desert.  
I want that high esteemed excellence  
Of fustian, or mockado Eloquence:  
To flourish o'er, or bombast▪ out my style,  
To make such as not understand me smile;  
Yet I with Nonsense could contingerate,  
With Catophiscoes' Terragrophicate,  
And make myself admired immediately,  
Of such as understand no more then I.  
Besides, I want the knowledge and the skill,  
How these my lines may pass now well or ill:  
For as a learned Poet lately writ  
With a comparison, comparing fit  
men's writings and inventions like to Cheese,  
Which with some stomaches very well agrees;  
Some love it, and some cannot well digest it,  
Some care not for it, and some quite detest it:  
And so my lines to sundry hands may come,  
Some pleasing, and displeasing unto some.  
One likes it well, and very well commends it,  
A second swears 'tis naught, and madly rends it,  
A third cries mew, and screws his jaws awry,  
And in a scornful humour lays it by:  
Thus some like all, some somewhat, & some nothing.  
And one man's liking is another's loathing.  
I want hope to please all men where I come,  
I want despair, and hope I shall please some;  
I want ingratitude to friends, I want  
A willing mind, (what's written) to recant:  
I want against any man peculiar spite,  
I want a self-love unto what I write:  
I want some friends that would my want supply,  
I want some foes that would my patience try.  
If all things that I want I here should tell,  
To a large volume than my book would swell;  
For though myself my wants do boldly bear,  
My wants of such great weight, and number are,  
That sure the burden of the things I want,  
Would break the back of any Elephant.   

Et Curo. I Care.  
I Care to think upon the Theme I write,  
For Care is careful, yielding no delight:  
And though Care flows like a continual stream,  
Yet Care is but a very barren Theme.  
Upon I care not, my swift Muse could jog,  
Like to an Irish Lackey o'er a bog;  
But my poor wit must work upon I care,  
Which is a subject (like my wit) most bare.  
I care to keep my wife in that degree  
As that she always might my equal be:  
And I do care, and at all time's endeavour,  
That she to have the mastership shall never.  
I Care, and so must all that mortal are;  
For from our births, unto our graves, our care  
Attends on us, in number like our sins,  
And sticks unto us close, as is our skins:  
For the true Anagram of 
* Learned 〈◊〉 l●ds 〈◊〉 that 〈◊〉 ●omes near Curro.  Care is Race,  
Which shows, that whilst we on the earth have place,  
So many miseries do us ensnare,  
That all our life is but a Race of Care;  
And when I call my life unto account,  
To such great numbers do my Cares amount,  
That Cares on Cares my mind so much do lad,  
As I of (nothing else but) Cares were made.  
When I conceive I am besieged round,  
With enemies that would my soul confound,  
As is the Flesh, the World and ghostly Fiends,  
How (severally) their force or flattery bends,  
To drive me to Presumption or despair,  
T'avoid temptations I am full of care.  
When I consider what my God hath done  
For me, and how his grace I daily shun:  
And how my sins (for aught I know) are more  
Than Stars in sky, or Sands upon the shore,  
Or withered leaves that Autumn tumbles down,  
And that sin's leprosy hath overgrown  
My miserable self from head to heel,  
Then hopeful fears, and fearful cares I feel.  
When I do see a man that conscience makes  
Of what he speaks, or doth, or undertakes;  
That neither will dissemble, lie, or swear,  
To have the love of such a man I care.  
I care when I do see a Prodigal  
(On whom a fair estate did lately fall)  
When as is spent his credit and his chink,  
And he quite wasted to a snuff doth stink,  
Who in the Spring, or Summer of his Pride,  
Was worshipped, honoured, almost deified:  
And (whilst the golden Angels did attend him)  
What swarms of friends, and kindred did befriend him  
Persuading him, that give, & spend, & lend,  
Were virtues which on Gentry do depend.  
When such a fellow fall'n to misery,  
I see forsaken and in beggary,  
Then for some worthy friends of mine I care.  
That they by such examples would beware.  
A fool is he who gives (himself t'impair)  
And wise is he who gives what he may spare:  
But those that have too much, and nothing give,  
Are slaves of Hell, and pity 'tis they live.  
But as the prodigal doth vainly spend,  
As though his ill sprung wellspring, ne'er would end,  
Yet in his poverty he's better much,  
Then a hard hearted miserable Clutch;  
Because the Prodigal lets money fly,  
That many people gain and get thereby.  
A Prodigal's a Commonwealths man still,  
To have his wealth all common 'tis his will,  
And when he wants, he wants what he hath not,  
But miser's want what they both have, and got.  
For though man from the teat hath weaned been,  
Yet still our infancy we all are in,  
And from our birth, till death our lives doth smother  
All men do live be sucking one another.  
A King with Clemency and Royalty,  
Doth suck his Subject's love and loyalty:  
But as the Sea sucks in the River's goods,  
And Rivers back again, suck in the floods,  
So good Kings, and true Subjects, always prove  
To suck from each, protection, fear, and love.  
All Clients whatsoever, are Lawyers nurses,  
And many times they do suck dry their purses,  
But though the Lawyer seems in wealth to swim,  
Yet many great occasions do suck him.  
The Prodigals estate, like to a flux,  
The Mercer, Draper, and the Silkman sucks:  
The Tailor, Milliner, Dogs, Drabs and Dice,  
Trey-trip, or Passage, or The most at thrice;  
At Irish, Tick-tack, Doublets, Draughts or Chess,  
He flings his money free with carelessness:  
At Nowm, Mumchance, mischance, (choose ye which  
At One and thirty, or at Poor and rich,  
Ruff, slam, Trump, noddy, whisk, hole, Sant, Newcut.  
Unto the keeping of four Knaves he'll put  
His whole estate, at Loadum, or at Gleek  
At Tickle-me-quickly, he's a merry Greek,  
At Primefisto, Post and pair, Primero,  
Maw, Whip-her-ginny, he●s a liberal Hero;  
At My-sow-pigged, and (Reader never doubt ye,  
He's skilled in all games, except) Look about ye.  
Bowls, shove-groate, tennis, no game comes amiss,  
His purse a nurse for any body is;  
Caroches, Coaches, and Tobacconists,  
All sorts of people freely from his fists  
His vain expenses daily suck and soak,  
And his himself sucks only drink and smoke,  
And thus the Prodigal, himself alone,  
Gives suck to thousands, and himself sucks none.  
But for the miser, he is such an evil,  
He sucks all, yet gives none suck but the Devil:  
And both of them such cursed members are,  
That to be neither of them both I care.  
Thus young, old, all estates, men, maids, & wives,  
Do suck from one another, all their lives;  
And we are never weaned from sucking thus,  
Until we die, and then the worms suck us.  
I care when I want money where to borrow,  
And when I have it then begins new sorrow:  
For the right Anagram of woe is owe.  
And he's in woe that is in debt I know:  
For as I cared before to come in debt,  
So being in, my care is out to get.  
Thus being in or out, or out or in,  
Where one care ends, another doth begin.  
I care to keep me from the Sergeant's mace,  
Or from a barbarous Bailiffs rough embrace:  
Or from a Marshal's man that mercy lacks,  
That lives a cursed life by poor men's wracks,  
From Sergeants that are Saracens by kind,  
From Bailiffs ●hat are worse than Bears in mind:  
And from a Marshal's monsters trap or snare,  
To keep me from such knaves as those I care.  
A Pander (Hostler-like) that walks a whore,  
And for a fee, securely keeps the door,  
A Punk that will with any body do,  
And give the pox in to the bargain too:  
A rotten stinking Bawd, that for her crimes,  
Stewed in a sweat hath been some fifteen times,  
A Drunkard, that delights to curse and swear,  
To shun such company as those I care.  
I care to please▪ and serve my Masters will,  
And he with care commands not what is ill.  
I care to have them hanged that careless be,  
Or false unto so good a Lord as he.  
I care for all Religions that are hurled  
And scattered o'er the universal world:  
I care to keep that which is sound and sure,  
Which ever and for ever shall endure.  
I care t'avoid all Sects and errors foul  
That to confusion hath drawn many a soul.  
For be a man, a Heathen, Turk or jew,  
With care his miserable state I rue,  
That he should have sense, reason, life and limb,  
Yet will not know that God that gave them him.  
And can a Christian think upon these things,  
But it his heart with care and pity wrings?  
That three parts of the world, the grace doth shun  
Of their Creator, and his saving Son.  
And as the Christians few in number be,  
Yet how they in Religions disagree,  
Kings, subjects, parents, children much divided,  
By hell misguided, and by Turks derided.  
And can a Christian think how these things are,  
But that his heart must be possessed with Care?  
I would all Princes that do Christ profess,  
And hope through him for endless happiness,  
Their quarrels to each other to lay by,  
And join against the common enemy,  
Who like a tempest oftentimes hath come,  
Advancing Mahomet in Christendom.  
If Christian Kings this way would all prepare,  
For such a glorious war as this I care.  
And here (for mirth's sake) some few lines are made  
In the behalf of me, and of my trade:  
But honest Reader be not angry though  
They look like verses I wrote long ago, 
Some 6 or 8. lines are old of mine own ●ut I have 〈◊〉 varied ●hem.   
But they by many men were never seen,  
And therefore fit to publish them I ween.  
I that in quiet in the days of yore,  
Did get my living at the healthful Oar,  
And with content, did live, and sweat and row,  
Where like the tide, my purse did ebb and flow,  
My fare was good, I thank my bounteous fares,  
And pleasure made me careless of my cares.  
The watery Element most plentiful,  
Supplied me daily with the Oar and Scull,  
And what the water yielded, I with mirth,  
Did spend upon the Element of earth.  
Until at last a strange Poetic vein,  
As strange a way possessed my working brain:  
It chanced one evening, on a reedy bank,  
The Muses sa●e together in a rank:  
Whilst in my boat I did by water wander,  
Repeating lines of Hero and Leander,  
The Triple three took great delight in that,  
Called me a shore, and caused me sit and chat,  
And in the end when all our talk was done,  
They gave to me a draught of Helicon,  
Which proved to me a blessing and a curse,  
To fill my pate with verse, and empt my purse.  
By their poor gift I have experience found  
What's fit to be reproved, and what renowned:  
And that a Waterman a member is,  
Which neither King nor Commonwealth can miss,  
Yet we could well miss some that are too bad,  
If better in their rooms were to be had:  
But though abundance of them I could spare,  
'tis only for the honest trade I care.  
Some say we carry whores and thieves, 'tis true,  
I'll carry those that said so for my due:  
Our boats, like hackney horses, every day,  
Will carry honest men and knaves, for pay,  
We have examples for it most divine,  
The Sun upon both good and bad doth shine▪ 
Shall God's gifts be common to good & bad, and our boats be private only to the good?   
Upon the dunghill and upon the rose,  
Upon God's servants and upon his foes:  
The wind, the rain, the earth, all creatures still,  
Indifferently do serve both good and ill.  
All tradesmen sell their ware continually,  
To whores, or knaves, or any that will buy.  
They ne'er examine people what they are.  
No more can we, when we transport a fare.  
Sappho a poetess, a Lady famed,  
Did wed a Waterman was Phaon named:  
Eight Kings (with Oars) as histories do show,  
King Edgar to his Parliament did row.  
And when the waters all the world o'er ran,  
Old Noah was the only waterman.  
I care what quantity of this same stuff  
I write, for I may do much, or not enough,  
To end it therefore I will have a Care,  
And show the Waterman's brief 
* The character of a Waterman.  Character.  
First, though he be not of the female kind,  
Yet he's most like unto a Whore I find:  
For both, the more unready that they be,  
Both are most ready for their trade we see,  
The Watermen in shirts, and Whores in smocks,  
Both strip and fall to work, t'increase their stocks.  
Besides, a Waterman is much ingrateful,  
(And yet is his ingratitude not hateful)  
For (under God) the River Thamesis, 
Thames a waterman's best friend, whom he delights to cross.   
His chiefest friend, and best maintainer is,  
It feeds and fills him, gives him daily treasure,  
And he (to cross that Friend) takes pains with pleasure  
Mine own unkindness I have oft expressed,  
For when I cros● it most, it pleased me best.  
And as an Hypocrite speaks fairest when  
He most deceives, so we poor Watermen,  
Go backward when we do go forward still,  
And forward, we go backward with good will.  
Thus looking one way, and another rowing,  
With forward backward, backward forward going  
To get my living I have thought it meet,  
Much like a Weaver with both hands and feet,  
Or like a Ropemaker, I in my trade  
Have many hundred times run retrograde;  
But though the Ropemaker do backward go,  
Yet is his work before his face we know;  
And all the voyages I undertake  
My business still hath been behind my back.  
But (in a word) let things be as they are,  
Those whom I carry, to land safe, I care.  
When I do stand my labour to apply  
I neither use to call, or yall, or cry,  
Or thrust▪ or shove, or rake, or hale, or pull  
The Gentleman, or gentlemanlike Gull,  
A maid, a wife, a widow, or a trull.  
Be he the greatest swearer on the earth,  
Or the most dangerous thief that ere had birth,  
Be he or they as bad, or worse, or worst,  
Then any that of God or man are cursed:  
Yet (if it be their lots to be my fare)  
To carry them and land them well I care,  
For why? should I through careless negligence,  
Drown but a Rascal by improvidence,  
In me it were an action most untrue,  
For robbing of the hangman of his due.  
And be a velvet villain ne'er so brave,  
A silver, silken, or a Satin slave:  
And that I know, and do esteem him so,  
Yet with great care his Rogueship will I row,  
Because I would not wrong the courteous River,  
With the base corpse of such a wicked liver;  
I have a care to look about me round,  
That he may live and hang, and not be drowned.  
I take great care how I might Cares avoid,  
And to that end I have my Cares employed:  
For long a go I do remember that  
There was a Proverb, Care will kill a Cat.  
And it is said a Cat's a wondrous beast,  
And that she hath in her nine lives at least,  
And sure if any Cat this care could shun,  
It was the famous Cat of Whittington,  
For whom was given a ship rich fraught with ware  
And for a lucky Puss like that I care.  
But if Care of such potent power be,  
To kill nine lives, it may kill one in me;  
And therefore it behoves me to beware,  
That though I care, not to be killed with care.  
I care, and in my care take great delight,  
(When by a Watch I do pass late at night)  
Such answers to the Constable to shape,  
As by good words I may the Compter scape.   

My serious Cares and Considerations.  
'tIs said the age of man is seventy years,  
If eighty, it is full of grief and Cares,  
And if we of our time account should keep,  
How half our lives we do consume in sleep,  
And for the waking half, account that too,  
How little service to our God we do:  
For till seven years be past and gone away,  
We are uncapable to do or pray.  
Our 
* Strange Eloquence  Adolescency till our manly growth,  
We wast in vanity and tricks of youth,  
And as we travel to our journeys end,  
The more we live the more we do offend.  
In sixty years three thousand Sabbaths be,  
Which are some eight years in account we see,  
But of those Sundays let us think again,  
How little service God hath had of men,  
And to the holiest man it will appear,  
About one hundred hours in a year.  
And so in threescore years' God hath not one,  
Wherein his service we attend upon.  
And if that (less than one) t'account were brought,  
How many a nap, and many a wavering thought,  
And wand'ring fancies do us round beset,  
(That many times the text we do forget?)  
Think but of this, and then the year before  
Must be abated half, or somewhat more.  
Thus many a Christian sixty years hath trod  
The earth, and not six months hath served his God.  
When we our lives unequally thus share,  
In thinking ●f it, I am full of care.  
I care in all my actions so to live,  
That no occasion of offence I give  
To any man, with either pen or tongue,  
In name, or fame, or goods, to do them wrong.  
For he's the greatest murderer alive,  
That doth a man of his good name deprive  
With base columnious slanders and false lies,  
'tis the worst villainy of villains:  
To blast a good man's name with scandals breath,  
Makes his dishonour long survive his death:  
For Infamie's a colour died in grain,  
Which scarce oblivion can wash out again.  
As nothing's dearer than a man's good name,  
So nothing wounds more deeper than defame.  
Nature gave man a pair of ears and eyes,  
And but one tongue, which certainly implies,  
That though our sight and hearing still is free,  
Yet must we not speak all we hear or see,  
Then he's a Viper that doth lies invent,  
To work thereby another's detriment,  
'Tis sin to slander a notorious Knave,  
But sin and shame a good man to deprave:  
Thus good or bad, or whatsoever they are,  
To do to neither of them wrong I care.  
I care to get good Books, and I take heed,  
And care what I do either write or read:  
Though some through ignorance, & some through spite  
Have said that I can neither read nor write.  
But though my lines no scholership proclaim,  
Ye● I at learning have a kind of aim.  
And I have gathered much good observations,  
From many humane and divine translations.  
I was well entered (forty Winters since)  
As far as possum in my Accidence;  
And reading but from ●ossu● to posset,  
There I was mir'de, and could no further get,  
Which when I think upon (with mind dejected)  
I care to think how learning I neglected.  
The Poet 
* Books that I have read of Poesy.  Quid, (or Ovid if you will)  
Being in English, much hath helped my skill:  
And Homer too, and Virgil I have seen,  
And reading them I have much bettered been.  
Godfrey of Bulloyne, well by Fairfax done,  
Du Bartas, that much love hath rightly won:  
Old Chaucer, Si●ney, Spencer, Daniel, Nash,  
I dipped my finger where they used to wash.  
As I have read these Poets, I have noted  
Much good, which in my memory is quoted.  
Of Histories I have perused some store,  
As no man of my function hath done more.  
The Golden legend, I did over toss, 
Part of the Books of History that I have read.   
And found the Gold mixed with a deal of dross.  
I have read Plutarch's Morals and his Lives,  
And like a Bee, sucked Honey from those Hives.  
josephus of the jews, Knowles of the Turks,  
Marcus Aurclius, and Gueuara's works:  
Lloyd, Grimstone, Montaigne, and Suetonius,  
Agrippa, (whom some call Cornelius.)  
Grave Seneca, and Cambden, Purchas, Speed,  
Old Monumental Fox, and Hollinshead:  
And that sole Book of Books which God hath given  
(The blessed eternal Testaments of heaven)  
That I have read, and I with care confess,  
Myself unworthy of such happiness.  
And many more good Books I have with care  
Looked on their goods, and never stole their ware,  
For no book to my hands could ever come,  
If it were but the treatise of Tom Thumb,  
Or Scoggins jests, or any simple play,  
Or monstrous news came Trundling in my way.  
All these, and ten times more, some good, some bad  
I have from them much observation had.  
And so with care and study I have writ  
These books, the issue of a barren wit.  
The most of them are verse, but I suppose  
It is much ease to name them here in prose.   

The names of many of the books that I have written.  
First, the 

Sculler.    
Upon Coriat three merry books, called, 

Odcombs' complaint,  
coriat's resurrection, and  
Laugh and be fat.  
The nipping or snipping of Abuses.  
Two mad things against Fenor.  
Tailors Urania.  
The marriage of the Princess.  
An Elegy on Prince Henry.  
Two books of all the Kings of England.  
Three weeks, three days, and three hours' observations in Germany.  
Travels to Scotland.  
Travels to Prague in Bohemia.  
An Englishmans love to Bohemia.  
The Bible in verse.  
The Book of Martyrs in verse.  
The praise of Hempseed.  
A kicksy winsy.  
The great O Toole.  
jack a Lent.  
The praise of Beggary.  
Tayl●rs Goose.  
Fair and foul weather.  
The life and death of the Virgin Mary.  
The Whip of Pride.    

And lastly (since the reign of th' Emperor 
* I was m●ch beholding to this Emperor's name to make up the meeter.  OTTO)  
Was never seen the like of TAILOR'S MOTTO.   

All these, and some which I have quite forgot,  
With care (as is aforesaid) I have wrote.   

I care how to conclude this careful strain:  
In care I care how to get out again:  
I care for food and lodging, fire and raiment,  
And (what I owe) I care, to make good payment.  
But most of all, I care, and will endeavour  
To live so careful that I may live ever.  
Thus without wronging any man a jot,  
I show I have what every man hath not:  
My wants are such, that I forgive them free,  
That would but steal the most of them from me.  
My cares are many, as I here express,  
Poor cousin Germane unto carelessness.  
I have a knowledge some men will read this,  
I want the knowledge how their liking is.  
I care in all that I herein have penned,  
To please the good, and show the bad to mend.  
And those that will not thus be satisfied,  
I have a spirit that doth them deride.  
I flattery want men's like to obtain,  
I care to love those tha● lo●e me again.  
Thus be men's ●udgements steady or unsteady  
To like my Book, the ●are is ta'en already.  
The Proverb says, that hast makes (often) wast,  
Then wha● is waste, impute it to my haste:  
This Book was written (not that here I boast)  
Put hours together, in three days at most:  
And give me but my breakfast, I'll maintain,  
To write another e'er I eat again.  
But well or ill, or howsoe'er 'tis penned,  
Liked as you list, and so I make an   
END.