A WHIP FOR WORLDLINGS OR THE CENTRE OF CONTENT  
 Paūsūs Viperam  
Su P●●●s Vanitatem   engraved title page   

To the Reader.  

MY modest lines thy milder censure craves,  
They kick not at authority, outbraves  
No poor dejected soul, fain would they tell,  
That greatness, goodness, should together dwell,  
The rich, in spirit poor, the poor should be  
Rich in all graces, with humility.  
That Monarches, judges, Magistrates, yea all  
The Civil as Ecclesiastical,  
Should so discharge their places in love, fear,  
As shortly to receive their loan else where;  
That those of low degree themselves demean,  
As may their blessed profession best beseem,  
Giving all men their due, below, above,  
So shall they die in peace, who lived in love;  
That neither wise in wisdom, strong in might,  
Rich in his riches glory; but as right  
Give God the praise, so use those gifts him lent  
As a good steward, God's blessed instrument;  
That the afflicted, those with tempests tossed,  
Vncomforted, give not themselves for lost,  
Although their drink be tears commixed with gall,  
He that did wound, can heal, can kill, recall  
To life, affliction touchstone like doth try  
The reines, the hart; as fire doth purify  
The Gold, so they the Saints; though now they mourn,  
Their sweet release to greater joy shall turn.  
Right precious in his sight are all God's Saints,  
At rest, forgets not God, distressed, not faints,  
Living, unto the Lord they live, and die  
In him, to live with him eternally.   

Good, gentle, peaceful Reader, I present  
This mass thus dressed unto thee; my intent  
Is good, if here be aught that's for thy use  
If thou find profit by it, no abuse,  
Receive it from thy friend in love, and say  
thou'rt promised, if God will, an higher lay.   
Thine STEPHEN TAYLOR.   

Ad Avarum O sorem huiusce libelli & rosorem.  
FAsciculum 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Florum (Diodore) paravit  
Dic mihi, quid sentis? non probo. Sentis inest.  
Dic, ubi te pungit? digitos. Mentiris inepte.  
Non digitos pungit, pungit at hic animum.  
Tu curas depone tuas, quae sunt magè sentes,  
Et rosa tunc redolens, quod modò sentis, erit.  
Authori Amico obtulit Mich: Edmonds.   

A WHIP FOR WORLDLINGS OR THE CENTRE OF CONTENT.  
WHy should the boundless ill-disposed mind  
Of brittle man, unconstant as the wound,  
With swelling pride, disdainful arrogance,  
Seek to himself the world's sole governance?  
Alas, so small a part would him suffice,  
(If glory vain blended not his Reason's eyes)  
That he should find that who possesseth lest  
Has most content, which is that Godlike Feast;  
That only Summum bonum here below,  
That mirror clear through which we most things know;  
That glass of glory, by whose help we see  
Those secret mysteries of divinity,  
That richest jewel, which the Gods impart  
To those that them adore with simple heart;  
Whose powers; blessedness, no tongue can tell  
Save that which dipped hath been in th'living well.  
Why are we puffed up? or rather why  
(Knowing our weakness our deep misery,)  
With humbled soul, heart thankful, cheerful grace,  
Don't we his mercies bountiful embrace?  
No, no, our natures are so prone to ill,  
That little good we know; if know, not will.  
Much like the daughters of the watery leech  
By wisdom's Magazine described, which reach  
Out their wide throats after the bloody prize,  
The more insatiate they gulp, the more their cries  
Are, give, give; Such is our wretched state,  
Fretting our souls with cares intemperate,  
With restless thoughts, & carkings pining seek  
We Mammon's poisoned treasures, which to keep  
Our minds are charged with doubts, & bloodless fears,  
Our spirits all consumes, exciccates, sears.  
We plunge ourselves into the lowest deeps  
With raving madness, where us nothing meets  
But moaning sorrow, grief remediless,  
Heartburning hate, wasting disquietness,  
Squint-eyed suspect, foaming revenge, despite,  
All-dreaded horror, shaking pale-looked affright,  
Blood-stained treason, faithless disloyalty,  
Corrupted justice, self eating jealousy  
Deceit, whose fair filled tongue is ever found  
To his hart discord, sharp, yet no true sound;  
And after follows him that monster vild  
With gastfull looks, eyes hollow, all defiled  
About his chin, his loathsome beard & breast  
With filthy-coloured stinking matter pressed  
Through his black irksome teeth, that him to see,  
Would turn a stomach strong; (called Perjury)  
Then simony, too welcome now a guest  
To greatest Prelates, & the surest rest  
(In these corrupted times) to those that be  
Poorer in parts than purse, in Arts than fee,  
But murder lurks this while, & vnespi'de  
Would gladly scape our sight, & steal aside;  
His colour is too splendent, his path way  
Too much is beaten, so that every day,  
Nay every hour, where e'er we be, report  
Dolefull is made of him in heavy sort.  
Light-shunning shame with causes first and last  
Make haste to follow them before that past.  
Then comes despair, in whose distracted look  
Well may you read her lesson without book,  
With speaking gesture, most unconstant gate,  
With raving words still cries out, (all too late,)  
Voice heavy, hollow, hoarse, with a resound  
Much like an empty cave fare under ground;  
Feign would she weep, to give herself some ease,  
But cannot weep, nor grief in least appease,  
The fountaines dry, her brain the spring is spent,  
All moisture gone, nought left save sad lament.  
With leaden feet her numbered steps she treads  
Sometimes where Fortune, not where judgement leads,  
When she augments her torments, tortures dire,  
And adds light fuel to her flaming fire.  
Now bends her brows against the sparkling sky,  
And then cast down grovelling in dust doth lie,  
Cursing the Fates, the Powers above, and all  
That either made her man, or man let fall.  
And then again as mildly doth she bless  
The state of men, (than Angels not much less)  
That fly in time Satan's temptation,  
And work with fear their own salvation!  
But suddenly upstarting from this Muse,  
She flies as fast as if she wings did use;  
Or as the speedy post of heaven had lent  
Her (for more haste) th'air cutting instrument.  
All boots not thee, she finds where e'er she fly  
Death, death eternal doth within her lie:  
The vulture, as on Tityus, so doth gnaw  
Her wastles bowels, easeles pangs to draw;  
And with Ixion turned on a wheel,  
Racked as Typhaeus, while each joint doth feel  
Worse than Perillus' pains, (that did invent  
The brazen Bull his own death's instrument.)  
Thus, wretched earth worms, do we pull amain  
Our souls loss on us for the slightest gain,  
Gaine did I call it? When no tongue can tell,  
How great's the loss, when heavens exchanged for hell.  
No matter what the man is, so has wealth,  
How qualified in mind, if rich in pelf:  
His Father died but lately, left him store,  
His uncle's sick, whose death shall bring much more;  
Sweet daughter, give his first access some grace,  
A pleasant smile from that thy lovely face,  
No matter though his stiff benumbed joints  
Have used the flail, more than those nicer points  
Of gentile exercise; can he not dance?  
Nor curb the cornefed steed with couched lance  
In hand? nor sing, nor court, nor play  
On lute, or viol, or on that they say  
Arion did repay the Dolphines love?  
What then (my Doll) this must thy thoughts not move,  
These complete youths, when they have spent their ' states,  
May go and scrape in consort with their mates.  
My pretty girl, thy mother well did know,  
(O give me aqua vitae, else I go  
To meet her in Elysium, for her name  
Makes sudden cold to run through every vein)  
I say she knew, good Creature, how that I,  
Though ne'er instructed in such foppery,  
Can play my part, and frisking skip about  
The merry Maypole, till I her culled out  
From 'mongst the rout, those were the happy days,  
We were not then so nice, so coy; what says  
My darling? how? gippe gossip, ho  
Are you so proud now grown, well, you shall know  
That I your Father am, has he no wit?  
He cannot speak, nor look, nor go, nor sit,  
What though he cannot write nor read a letter?  
Is not than all of these his means much better?  
One casts herself away in best of age  
Upon a cree ping goat merely for gage,  
And daignes that rotten bulk to cull & kiss,  
And smiling tells him he Adonis is.  
When as his toothless gums, his restless cough  
She hates in heart and privately does scoff,  
Is he not well at ease? O than she cries,  
My dearest Lord, my all-delight, my joys,  
Where is your pain? tell me where lies your smart,  
I need not ask, I feel it at my heart.  
So do we Symphathize. O I could rend  
The hair from of my head, but to what end?  
All will not help; good Sir, consider well  
Be fore your death your poorer friends that devil  
In the next village, for they have children small,  
And little means (God knows) to help withal,  
For me there'l be enough, I am but one,  
And when you die, with me the world is gone;  
Or if, that care you do impose on me,  
My love to you in them the world shall see.  
Now has she won him, strait he does enfeoft  
Her in his whole estate, and nothing's left  
Undone, but to enjoy; yet him recovered  
In mind she cannot brook, but undiscovered,  
Covers with veil of false died joy, & he,  
Ravished therewith, seems now in heaven to be,  
But yet for her, this wound no haver shakes,  
For more content some other shift she makes;  
Fall back, fall edge, man has no perfect power;  
If not as wife, she'll have it as a—.  
Nor the endowments rare of largest mind  
In Ethicles, to virtue's lore inclined,  
Nor yet his personage, admired grace,  
Nor honours due move Lycia fair an ace;  
With the same sauce too is Melissus served,  
Passius his dish delighted in has carved.  
For he was rich, his father left him heir  
Of all his goods, & baseness to an hair.  
But those Heroic spirits, right Noble breasts,  
True glories darlings, Pallas delighted guests,  
The Muse's favourites, base earth disdains,  
And all those tempting trifles from her veins  
Sucked by her leane-chopd slaves, their eyes are bend  
Upon the mind, not these goods contingent;  
Nor painted weeds, big looks, affected gate  
Of Pluto's gorgeous sons infatuate  
Their sounder judgements, but where virtue clear  
Or any parts deserving shall appear,  
Though clad in rags, & covered with the scorn  
Of fortunes butterflies, seeming forlorn,  
Them they will honour, and respect much more  
Than thousand Braggadochoes named before.  
Not means, but men; not state, but studies deep,  
Not pride, but fruitful lore their favours keep.  
What though the upstart gallants of these times,  
Mounted aloft by Parents damned crimes,  
Spreading their tails as Peacocks, thee deride  
With obscure house, base blood on either side?  
Forgetting what their fathers were, and how  
They purchased that of which they vaunt so now.  
One by long suit, and some small feeling by  
Unto the favoured of his Majesty,  
In foreign service, or last expedition,  
Or else at home in one less-loued Commission,  
Procured an office, when he so well did lick  
His fingers, that his sons do find it stick  
Still by their ribs. Another has sucked dry  
Three better gentlemen, that dwelled him by,  
Their charge was great, large debts they had to pay,  
The times were hard, their tenants begged delay  
In payment of their rents, so they much strained,  
Made use of this their neighbour, when he gained  
His hearts desire, than he himself does bless  
Hugging his fortune, and wished happiness.  
With countenance composed, & long drawn speech  
(After excuse) his money will not reach  
Unto so high a sum, he lets them know;  
But glad would be, if that he could but show  
In that or any service, his affection dear  
Which he to them and theirs did ever bear.  
well, they'll make shift then with what he can spare:  
And one upon his son bestows a mare  
In token of acceptance; Sr. forbear,  
Your bounties vnderserued, he shan't I swear.  
well, I must rest your debtor; yet, Sr, I pray  
That this your mortgage may be sealed to day,  
For we are mortal all, & know not when  
Our living souls shall leave their fleshy den.  
His will obtained by reasons large alleged,  
All deems he as his own, for surely vvedged  
He finds himself in their estates, and plods  
Now how to set them that were friends at odds.  
He knows that lawyers loadstones are, they'll look  
What fish there comes to net by hook or crook  
To make their prize, than which he seeks not more  
(He pays not great that cannot lesser score,  
Nor can he much that is not world before.)  
In fine, possession he has got & holds,  
This is their glory, this their heart embolds.  
Another was Protector to a child,  
His kinsman near, of nature good and mild,  
For love of whose great Fortunes he does send  
To some part fare remote, his days to spend,  
Telling him travels much enrich the mind,  
And the affections rude in order bind;  
When counsel he has got of Doctor's grave,  
Who told him plainly, there's no hope to save  
His life, if thither he his course do steer,  
Which as his nature's antype doth appear.  
If this trick miss, his brain affords one more,  
Prosper not that, he finds out yet a score;  
For die he must, his thoughts can have no rest,  
Till of those goods & lands he be possessed.  
Unnamed there rests one yet, who knew full well  
(For which he howls now 'mongst the fiends in hell)  
To raise himself, and gain a noted name,  
By being Author of his daughter's shame:  
She was a comely creature, in whose face  
All men would say beauty sat linked with grace;  
Too sweet a girl, so base a Sire to have,  
Better for her if th' womb had been her grave.  
He plays the Pander, what's her part you'll judge,  
But this is to a Lord, that will not grudge  
Nor stand to question his demands, but grant  
What he in fewest words pretends to want.  
May not these outsides then well boast of blood,  
Of honoured stock, of house as old as Lud?  
But let me leave such froathes, & shadows vain,  
Leading my Muse to our digressed aim:  
What though these heap upon thee bitter scorn?  
Thy worth shall aye appear as brightest morn,  
Or as that star days noted harbinger,  
Wished comfort to the home-bent traveller.  
A Pilgrimage thou knowest this life to be,  
Pilgrims should fast, not feast in jollity.  
If great thy burden, slower is thy pace,  
How lesser laden, bettet is thy case:  
The way is heavy, full of thorns & briers,  
With doubt full wind many men that tires,  
Hast thou where with frail nature to suffice?  
Thou hast enough; thou art in happy guise,  
And little her contents, why then should we  
Needles with such great weights oppressed be?  
Thou thinkest thy share but small, thy lot too mean,  
Thy part most matchless tragic in the scene,  
Yet let not Passions raging tyranny  
Rob reason of her due regality,  
Then shalt thou set the case is altered quite,  
Thou art not miser, but an happy wight.  
Thou art not King, nor Keisar in degree,  
Cares attend crowns, dire fears regality '.  
Scarce can the charms of Morpheus black constrain  
Their wearied senses to obey his reign,  
When others sleep in quiet, they oppressed  
With feral perturbations find no rest.  
If eat, or drink, or ride, or sit, or lie,  
In every place, and in all company,  
Both day night and with restless thoughts & doubts  
They cruciate their souls, yet nothing boots.  
How many mighty Monarches of the earth  
Have lived in constant trouble from their birth?  
How has Dame Fortune tossed them as a ball?  
When at the height of glory than they fall.  
Aged Priamus descended of high love,  
Whom fifty sons did father call, that striven  
With Greece's chiefest Champions, what more grief  
Reigned forth his bleeding life without relief  
Just at the Altar? Why should I stand to name  
That greatest Caesar by the Senate slain?  
Or Cleopatra, Egypt's queen, that died  
By winding serpents poisoned stings, to glide  
To her beloved Anthony, before  
Who took his journey to the stygian shore?  
Or yet that crafty King (jugurtha named,  
For policy, & feats of arms much famed)  
Of Numidea great Commander; taken  
By Marius, brought un to Rome there slain?  
Or powerful Bellisarius, whose highs deeds  
Rome, yea and all the world with wonder feeds,  
And yet constrained was through want to pray  
For small relief to them that passed his way?  
No Catalogue of this I seek to make  
Of greatest Peers that share in Fates did take;  
This is no Chronicle, my taskes not such;  
(Only as fit) I give you but a touch.  
Go further yet, and see those Princes rare  
That (Atlas like) the world on Shoulders bare,  
Whose Divine wisdom makes their neighbours quake  
Those less in strength, whose very words do make  
Those that were mortal foes to lay down arms,  
And then (as Beacon) being fired them warns  
Unto Bellona's Court, which way he bends,  
Observantly their resolution tends:  
They humbly seek his counsel fare & near,  
And as an Oracle his sentence fear;  
Yet for all this he murmured at shall be  
By the rude sencesuall sense less Com'naltie.  
O those most blessed days, that they have seen  
Caused by the wars with such a King or Queen  
Still yelp they out; or hear they news of wars  
Their note is changed, what good is got by jars?  
Keeps he a Court magnificent? they cry  
Such riot brings our land to beggary.  
Or is he frugal to increase the store  
The treasury exhausted long before?  
Then he's ignoble, than he seeks their shame,  
He love's not honour, is no child of fame.  
If young, he spends his time in dalliance  
With his fair Queen, neglecting governance.  
If struck in years, tush, then he's grown a sot,  
Ne what of state or rule knows he a jot.  
Or have their crying sins with a strong hand  
Pulled from the Lord a judgement on the land?  
Whether by dearth, or war, or faintness i'll,  
A coldness at the heart, a listles ill,  
Which makes their looks more settled, bloodless, sad,  
Than if an ague strong them shaken had,  
Which takes away all charity and love,  
(That only makes man like the Gods above)  
All due respect, friendship, good neighbour hood,  
Dries up affection even in nearest blood,  
When we can see without relenting heart  
Our brother's wretched, woeful, easeles smart,  
When we unmoved as sencles' blocks can see  
Subject of pity, depth of misery:  
When traffic is blocked up within the land,  
And money (life of trade) in miser's hand,  
When every one seeks to devour each other,  
(Like ravening wolves) let him be friend or brother:  
When these, and such like plagues are felt so soar,  
They look not to the cause, but basely roar  
Out bitter exclamations 'gainst their King  
For this their just deserved suffering.  
Like as th' Ichneumon (little beast) does steal  
Into the belly of the Crocodile,  
Beaking himself upon the sunny shore  
Of fertile Nile, gorged till he can no more,  
And there lies gnawing of his paunch so vast,  
Till he his life from monstrous corpse has cast.  
Or as that living Mountain, nature's wonder,  
That by his powerful passage causes thunder  
In the Atlantic sea, cutting with strength  
The foamy waves, and floods does cast in length  
Many a furlong with resistless fins,  
Which Triton much amazed, from revel  
And Courtly entertainment makes to rise,  
Sending about to every part his spies  
For quick advice, if any there should be,  
That might in question call his sovereignty,  
Answer is brought, the whale strength of disdanie;  
By the small sword fish late received his bane.  
The lofty Pine is subject to the ire  
Of raging loud-tongued Boreas, all on fire  
To hasten wrackful mischief, & the fall  
Of him aspiring and the Cedar tall.  
When as the shrubs, the lesser trees, that grow  
Under their shadow, (shrouded safely low)  
Find no disturbance, but in peace do live  
And kindly fruits in season due do give.  
Is a slight Cottage blown unto the ground?  
We take no notice of so dead a sound;  
But when a tower, whose spire most eminent,  
Threatening the Clouds by thunder bolt is rend,  
Or cast to humble earth by kindled wrath  
Of all-commanding jupiter, dismai'th,  
And makes with fearful cold their blood to freeze,  
That dwell within the hearing, or that sees  
Its roaring downefal; so man of mean degree  
Lives more at ease, and less in jeopardy.  
Is not thy state so high? thy store so great?  
Thy bags so stuffed with coin? nor yet thy seat  
So pleasant or commodious? what then?  
Will't thou repine? O no, but think on them,  
On them most wretched creatures, slaves to woe,  
That never fortune knew but as a foe;  
Who never saw an happy day or hour,  
But always lived a prisoner in the tower  
Of misery; the cheerful looks of joy  
They seldom could discover; grief, annoy,  
Sorrow, laments, afflictions, heaviness,  
Tears, discontents, troubles, disquietness,  
Where e'er they go, attendance strictly gives,  
And follows them precise as relatives.  
Many a weary step they faintly tread  
Without the sust'nance of a piece of bread,  
When fiery Titan drives his scorching team  
Bet wixt the glittering Cup and Diadem.  
Nor house, nor shelter have they, to defend  
Themselves from cruel blasts, & storms which rend  
Strong Oaks up by the roots; the pinching cold,  
And biting frosts they must endure, which old  
Stern wrathful winter casts upon the earth,  
By thee allayed and qualified with mirth;  
When thou in bed of down thy limbs dost stretch,  
With piercing pangs their feeble breath they fetch,  
Thou art encompassed with thy friends about,  
With feeling words to answer every doubt,  
That quick'ning counsel, tempered with sweet voice,  
Will freely, in due season, in terms choice,  
Administer to thy distracted mind,  
Casting thy cares, fears, scruples, fare behind;  
Thrice happy wert thou, if thou didst but know  
with what great good thy Cup doth overflowe.  
The Ape unto the Mole complaint did make  
Of his tails want, (his ornament,) but take  
Th'answer, unworthy creature, thou shouldst be  
More thankful, when my blindness thou dost see.  
If all the world their greivances should bring  
Of body, mind, and fortune, for to fling  
In one place all together, wouldst thou share  
In their division equal? no, I fear.  
with eagle's eyes, thou pry'st into thy wants,  
But seest not thine excess; whilst thousands vaunts  
Of the bare hopes, they have for to enjoy  
Some part of that thou slightest, makest a toy,  
A thing of nought; the grace & bounteous love  
Of thy good God despising; don't remove,  
O don't remove by thy repining cares  
His sweet refreshing favour, which he bears  
To thee not worthy of thy blessed creation,  
A man, a Christian, nor of preservation.  
How many at this instant lie enthralled,  
Their wasted legs with massy irons galled,  
That coursest bran for meat, & puddle drink,  
And yet thereof are scanted, while they sink  
Under their weighty burdens, tasks imposed  
By Pagan's cruelty, strictly enclosed  
And penned in grisly Cells of bondage, slaves,  
Whilst nought they hope for, but their quiet graves?  
How many in a moment are bereaved  
Of all they had, by sodanie fire conceived  
Through lightning, or neglect, or tyranny  
Of rogues, bad neighbours, common enemy?  
The same which we enjoying lest regard  
We more affect deprived of: it is hard  
justly to value our felicity,  
But when it is clouded with some misery.  
No man can have his will in all, but may  
Restrain his wishes from a fruitless stray.  
If all should sleep together, tell me then  
What difference 'twixt Kings, Lords & common men?  
The day of dissolution is at hand,  
That general day, when God's wheat shall be found,  
And brought into his garner; or to thee  
Thy day of death approacheth speedily.  
Then shall the tears be wiped from thine eyes.  
Then shalt thou clean forget thy bitter cries,  
Then art thou freed from all disasters, pains,  
Then hast thou perfect cure for all thy manes.  
Thou shalt no more be servile, but in love  
Be made Coheir with Christ of heaven above.  
Cast from thee then, thou Puny, those vain fears  
Which shakes thy sounder faith, ignobly bears  
Thy thoughts much lower than the sordid ground,  
And then again does catch them at rebound.  
If constant be thy troubles, without doubt  
Less violent, and time will wear them out:  
And as for those that are more violent  
They be but flashes, seldom permanent.  
Thou art not weak in body; say thou be,  
Thou art in Spirit as strong as strongest he.  
Thou art not poor; but yet suppose it so,  
In gods love richer much than many more.  
Come, art thou crooked or deformed? what then?  
Thou mayst be right in heart towards God & men.  
Thou bearest no rule, enjoyest no souveraigntie,  
Thou rul'st thy lusts, that's chief regality.  
Say thou wert maimed, decrepit, ulcerous, blind,  
Thy soul is sound, sees more than most we find.  
Hast thou no friends? alas, he that can raise  
Of stones posterity to Abram, says  
That he will be a father to thee, friend,  
And never will forsake thee to thy.  
END.