ABUSES STRIPPED, AND WHIPPED. OR SATIRICAL ESSAYS.  
By GEORGE wither. Divided into two Books 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Despise not this what ere I seem in show,  
A fool to purpose speaks sometime you know.  
AT LONDON, Printed by G. ELD, for FRANCIS BURTON, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Green-Dragon. 1613.   

To himself, G. W. wisheth all happiness.  
THou (even myself) whom next God, my Prince, and Country I am most engaged unto; It is not unlikely, but some will wonder, why, contrary to the world's custom, I have made choice of thy Patronage for this book, rather than the protection of such whose mightiness might seem better able to defend it; especially considering such a Gigantic troop of adversaries have banded themselves against the Truth, that one of them Goliah-like dares rail upon a whole host of Israel. It may be (I say) some will wonder, and some scoff at me for it; for which cause (though to answer them with sic volo had been sufficient: yet to show I will not like our Great ones stand so much upon my authority as to make my Will my Reason) I here let you know why, and for what causes I have done it; the first is this: I could not amongst all men find any man, in my opinion, so fitting for this purpose, but either my Work was unworthy, or too worthy his Patronage. Secondly, it is said; Obsequium amicos, veritas odium parit: and I doubting my free speech would hardly make a Diapason, pleasing to the ear of a common Maecenas, thought it best to hold my tongue, or speak to myself, whose disposition I am better acquainted with. Thirdly, seeing I know but what men appear, and not what they are; I had rather endure the Kites tyranny, then with Aesop's Doves make the Sparrowhauke my Champion. Fourthly, if I have spoken Truth it is able to defend itself; if not, whoe'er be my Patron, it is I must answer for it. Fiftly, for as much as I know my own mind best; I purpose, if need be, to become my own Advocate. Sixtly, for my own sake I first made it, and therefore certain I am I myself have most right unto it. But seavently, and lastly (which is indeed the principal Reason) I have made this Dedication to thee, poor world-despised Self; even to put thee in mind, (seeing thou hast here boldly begun to bid defiance to the Flesh, and upon just causes quarreled with the World) that thou take heed to thine own words, and not through baseness of mind or untowardness of Fortune (to thy everlasting disgrace) faintly give over so noble a Combat; If ever adversity (as 'tis like enough) oppress thee, yet remember thy own sayings, and in despite of outward Destinies have a care to keep an undeiected heart still free for Virtue. Or on the contrary, if ever (as 'tis unlikely) unexpected Prosperity be cast upon thee, then look to thyself, take to thee this poor book of thine, wherein thou shalt see the dangers of it, and be, perhaps, thereby stayed from many a perilous enterprise, which that estate might else drive thee into. Read it, weekly, daily, yea and hourly toe: what though it be thine own? thou knowest man's nature to be so uncertain, and prone to forgetfulness, even in the best things, that thou canst not have too many Memorandums. The wisest fall, and therefore every day was Philip desirous to be remembered that he was a Man; thou thinkest I know, still to remain what thou art, I desire in some things thou mayst, but unless thou labour it with diligent watchfulness over affection, it is at lest much to be doubted, if not altogether to be despaired of; thou hast seen many by an alteration in their estate been so metamorphosed, as if they were not the same men, nor of that Nation.  
Nay remember it, thou thyself, and that but upon a bare hope, or imagination of some preferment, hast been puffed up and exalted above measure: consider now then how much more thou hadst been so and what had become of thee if God had not by dashing those hopes called thee to thyself again? Alas! if he had answered thy ambitious expectations to thy desire, thou hadst been by this time past recovery and not thought of this; but delighted in villainy, been overmastered by passion, rushed into all vanity and presumption; yet never felt any danger, till it were too late to prevent it▪ Thou hast oft wished thou hadst been borne to the like means that others are, which might it have been so, now thou seest thou shouldst hardly, or never, have come to the knowledge of those things, that are now shown thee. 'tis true, thou hast lamented to be crossed in thy preferments, but thou seest since that it might have been thy undoing if it had not been so, and mayst persuade thyself, whether it be now or never, it will be to thy good. For tell me, hast thou not often felt, even when thou wert busiest to prevent them; fond love, ambition, revenge, covetousness and such like Passions then to invade thee? Hast thou perceived it I say? How much more than would they have been ready to assail thee, when quite forgetting them, thou hadst wholly addicted thyself to the things of this world? Let me advise my deare-selfe then, to make use of this thine own work, it will be better to thee then all the world: for this good it may do thee, and to this end I made both ●t and the Dedication thereof to thee, that if ever hereafter the temptations of the world, the flesh & the devil, or any occasion should make thee to forget this mind that thou art now in: or so blind thy understanding thou shouldst not perceive thy own and the World's follies as thou now dost; That if thou shouldst be in that miserable state as many are, to have no feeling of thy danger: that if thou shouldst be woefully flattered and have no friend that dares, or loves thee so well to put thee in mind of thy transgressions.  
Then I have ordained this to show thee what once thou wert, to touch thee again with the feeling of thy miseries, and to be unto thee that true Friend, which, free from all feigned invention, shall plainly tell thee, what perhaps should else have never been brought again to thy remembrance. Look then that for thy own sake thou respect this, how ever to others it may seem a trifle. Be careful of thy actions, for seeing thou knowest the dangerous Passions whereunto Man is subject, hast shown his vanities, laid open his Weakness, and sharply taxed his Presumptions: If now thou shouldest wilfully run thyself into the same evils, the world would vpraid● thee, this Book, yea thy Conscience accuse thee, God and goodmen hate thee, thy fault be more odious and in-excusable, thy judgement more severe, and which is worst, thy punishment most intolerable; I say seek therefore (if for no other cause) so to carry thyself, that at least thou mayst have a good conscience before God, for Si Deus tecum quis contrate, but if now having made the World thine enemy, exposed thyself to the malice thereof, and having so many Legions of foes without thee, thou shouldest also, by thy negligence, suffer the invincible fortress of a sound Conscience to be crazed within thee, the Devil, that is always watching such advantages, would quickly possess it with an unmerciful troop of Horrors, Fears, and Desperations, that without God's miraculous assistance thou wouldst grow wholly past either comfort or recovery.  
For all the World cannot defend thee against thy Conscience, but that being with he, thou mayst prevail against all the World. Beware then, do not like the Zibe●hum yield a perfume to sweeten others and be thyself a stinking vermin, but let this thy own work be first confirmed by thy life and conversation, yea let it be a Precedent to thyself, for, Tan●i erit aliis quanti tibi fuerit, but if not, I say if the World misesteeme either it or thee, yet do not thou therefore esteem the less either of thy book or of thyself, but rather let them know  
That thou hast learned, still thy care, shallbe,  
A rush for him, that cares a straw for thee.  
But now, though for these and divers other Reasons, I have to thee my Owneselfe committed the protection, and made the Dedication of this book, yet my meaning is not that thou shouldst keep it wholly to thine own use; But rather seeing it is honourable to give, (though none will give thee any thing) I have bestown this o● thee, that if thou canst in this corrupted age, find any, whom desert, and thy love may make so dear unto thee, or whom thou art persuaded will gratify, or but think well of thy honest endeavours, thou mayst be liberal to them both of these thy labours and expenses. But this I conjure thee to; be they never so great yet flatter not, or if he be a man whom thou knowest the World speaks any way justly ill of; either tell him his fault, or leave him wholly out of thy Catalogue: But because I begin to grow tedious to my owneselfe, and since I shall have Opportunity enough to consider with thee what is further needful without an Epistle, with my prayers for my Prince, my Country, my friends, and my own prosperity, without any leave taking, or Commendations of my Self; I heartily wish my own Soul to farewell.  
Thy Princes, thy Countries, thy friends, and thine i. thine own whilst Reason masters Affection. GEO. WITHER.   

To the Reader.  
REaders; I speak to you that have understanding; when these first fruits of my converted Muses, shall come to your judicious censures, Do not look for Spencers, or daniel's well composed numbers; or the deep conceits of now flourishing johnson; no; say 'tis honest plain matter, & there's as much as I look for. If I have seemed to ere in any thing suppose me not so obstinate, or well conceited of my own opinions, but that I may be persuaded by any that shall produce stronger reasons to the contrary. If any thing may seem to have a doubtful interpretation, assure yourselves the honestest meaning in it is mine, and although some may think I have not so well joined things together as I might have done, I know when you have considered the nature of the Subject, & the diversity of things therein handled, you will accept my good will & let my years be an excuse for that & all other ignorant oversights whatsoever. Some no doubt will mistake my plainness, in that I have so bluntly spoken what I have observed, without any Poetical additions or feigned Allegories, I am sorry I have not pleased them therein, but should have been more sorry if I had displeased myself in doing otherwise; for I know if I had wrapped up vy meaning, in dark riddles, I should have been more applauded and less understood, which I nothing desire. I neither fear nor shame to speak the Truth, and therefore have nakedly thrust it forth without a covering. To what end were it, if I (as some do) had apparelled my mind in dark Parables, that few or none might have understood me? I should do better to be silent; but if it be more in request I may hereafter be obscure enough, yet in this 'tis not my meaning, for indeed, if I knew how, my desire is to be so plain, that the bluntest jobernole might understand me. Our Grand-villaines care not for a secret jerk; well we may show an honest wit in covertly nipping them; but either 'tis in vain cause they perceive it not, or else ridiculous, seeing they only understand it who will but either malice or flout us for our labours. Many may dislike the harshness of the Verse but you know, although it be not stately, yet it we enough befits the matter, and whereas I may seem blameworthy in mixing Divinity with Humanity: yet when you have found my general aim; considered with what reverent respect I have done it, and what commendable authorities I may have for it, I nothing misdoubt your approbation. Those things which concern myself, may seem childish, nothing pleasing, but you must consider I had a care to please myself aswell as others; and if the World blame me as to saucy with her, 'tis for want of manners, but her own fault, that would allow me no better education. To be brief, if I have any way offended I am so well persuaded you will mildly construe my errors and infirmities, that I rest wholly, and only on your sound and incorrupted judgements.  
* But*  
Readers; I mean you that are no more but Readers; I make no question if this book come to your spelling, it will have many halting verses, and disjointed sentences: for I have had experience of your insufficiency: yet have I strived to be for your sakes I tell you (because I would if it were possible be understood) as plain (as they say) as a packsaddle, and now the doubt is then fools will ride me. If they do certainly, I shall be rough & uneasy for their tenderness. Though you understand them not yet because you see this wants some fine Phrases & flourishes, as you find other men's writings stuffed withal, perhaps you will judge me unlearned. Well; and right enough. Yet you will be counted but saucy Cobblers to go beyond your Lasts. And if that be a fault did not the subject and your ignorances, require me to be in that sort faulty? I could with ease have amended it, for it cost me (I protest) more labour to observe this plainness then if I had more Poetically trimmed two, but for fear if I speak much, I confound your Memories, I will say no more but this, Read and welcome, but Censure not, for your judgement is weak and I utterly renounce it.  
valet George Wither.   


To Time. EPIGR. 1.  

NOw swift-devouring, bald and ill faced Time,  
Dost not thou blush to see thyself uncloaked?  
Oh that I knew but how to laugh in Rhyme?  
Faith I would do it though thou wished me choked.  
Didst thou but see how thy fair antic shape,  
Is now transformed to a shapeless hue:  
How like thou look'st to some Barbarian Ape,  
Couldst thou I say with me thine own self view  
Thou wouldst be Metamorphosed anew,  
Run quite away, and either all amend,  
Or wish thyself and all things at an end.   

And yet despair not Time, though thou art ill;  
The worst that ever yet was known to be,  
'tis not ordained thou shouldst remain so still,  
For I myself this age do hope to see:  
The gloriou'st work that ever Time brought forth,  
The masterpiece, and the most noble act;  
In the respect of which 'twere nothing worth  
If all the brave deeds done were but one fact,  
Rome's fall I mean; I heard it when it cracked.  
Yea from my Cradle I did still surmise;  
I should see Babel tumble bethel rise,    

EPIG. 2.  
I Hear there's some ask how I dare so plain  
Tax the Abuses that I now see reign,  
I muse as much they dare say ill unto it,  
Or dare but ask, but how I dare to do it.   

To the Stranger 3.  
THou that wert so unhappy first, to breath,  
Without the compass of Great Britain's powe●  
And blest again that fate did thee bequeath,  
The knowledge of so rich a tongue as our.  
If understanding thou dost hap to read,  
This book wherein thou seest my nation's sham●  
Yet do not thou against my Country plead,  
For thine thou knowst doth merit as much blame  
Our faults are many, this indeed is true;  
But were they more, we were no worse than you.   

To the Satyro-mastix. 4.  

OH Lord Sir y'are deceived I'm none of tho●●  
That write in Anger, or malicious spleen,  
I have not taken pepper in the Nose,  
Nor a base forger of false libels been,  
Such ones there be indeed, such I have seen;   

I envy no man for his greatness I,  
Nor seek I any honest man's disgrace;  
I joy in every one's prosperity,  
I'll not the credit of a dog deface,  
My Aduersaery shall not prove the case.   

Then stand back sirrah Whip-Iack with your scourge,  
Do not incense my satire for thy life:  
he's patient enough unless thou urge,  
Contentions are now a days to rife,  
And he is very backward unto strife,   

But notwithstanding here he lets thee see,  
As long as there is cause and reason why:  
In spite of all that foes to Satyrs be:  
He shall, if I list tax iniquity,  
It is a matter of necessity.   

What? you would fain have all the great ones freed,  
They must not for their vices be controlled,  
Beware; that were a sauciness indeed;  
But if the Great-ones to offend be bold,  
I see no reason but they should be told.   

Yea and they shall; their faults most hurtful be,  
And though I will not put them to that shame,  
I no injustice in the matter see,  
If they were taxed by their proper name,  
For no sin can on earth have her full blame.  
Then Scourge of Satyrs hold thy whip from mine,  
Or I will make my rod lash thee and thine.    

To the galled Reader.  
EPIG. 8.  
SIr, he that's night-gald or hath corns on's toes,  
May blame the Shoemaker and curse his shoes  
But those that are acquainted with the fault,  
Can tell the reason wherefore he doth halt;  
So thou mayst think (perhaps) these Satyrs sting thee  
Where only thy own guiltiness doth wring thee.  
For if thou wert from these diseases free,  
Thou wouldst be quiet as some others be.  
But 'tis well known a ticklish beast hath tricks  
And the old Proverb saith a gold la ●e kicks.  
But I'll advise thee, if thou feel it smart,  
Be rule by me and play not the fools part,  
Keep't to thyself, and there are none shall know,  
Whether that thou art touched therein or no,  
Thou seest thou neither art marked out nor na'md;  
And therefore only to thyself art shamed;  
Now if thou stir at best thou shalt but make  
The Country of thy faults more knowledge take.  
And (as indeed it justly may) divine,  
The worst faults that I write against are thine,  
Then since to be reproved seems a curse,  
And to be moved makes the matter worse,  
Either for to amend thy life have care,  
O● like a Pack! orse and an Ass still bear.   

To the Impartial Author.  
CEorge, I did ever think thy faithful breast,  
Contained a mind beyond the common sort,  
Thy very look and honest heart expressed,  
And seemed an awful mildness to import:  
Poets may vaunt of smooth and lofty strains,  
Thine with thy subject fitly do agree;  
But then thy Muse a better praise obtains,  
For whilst the greatest but time-pleasers be,  
Thou unappald and freely speakest the truth:  
Not any one for fear or lucre sparing:  
A virtue rare in age, more rare in youth;  
Another Cato, but I think more daring;  
Well mayst thou speed in these tempestuous times,  
Thou soon beginnest to make the world thy foe  
Yet I so well do like thy honest rhymes;  
That I could wish all Poets would write so;  
For thou the way of truth so rightly tend'st,  
I hold them double praised whom thou commendest  
Thy dear friend, TH. C.    


The Contents of the first BOOK.  
The Occasion.  
The Introduction,  
Of Man  
Offond love. satire 1  
Of Lust. 2  
Of Hate. 3  
Of Enuy. 4  
Of Revenge. 5  
Of Choler. 6  
Of jealousy, 7  
Of Covetousness. 8  
Of Ambition. 9  
Of Fear. 10  
Of Despair. 11  
Of Hope. 12  
Of Compassion. 13  
Of Cruelty. 14  
Of joy.. 15  
Of Sorrow. 16  
The Conclusion of the first Book.   

THE SECOND BOOK.  
Of Vanity. satire. 1  
Of Inconstancy 2  
Of Weakness. 3  
Of Presumption 4  
The Scourge  
Epigramms to the King, etc. and to certain noble Personages and friends, to whom the Author gave any of his Books.    


THE OCCASION.  
Of this work.  
WHen nimble Time, that all things overruns;  
Made me forsake my tops and eldern guns  
Reaching those years in which the school boys brag  
In leaving off the bottle and the bag:  
The very spring before I grew so old,  
That I had a most thrice five winters told,  
Noting my other fellow-pupils haste,  
That to our English Athens flocked so fast:  
Lest others for a truant should suspect me,  
That had the self-same Tutor to direct me  
And in a manner counting it a shame,  
To undergo so long a Schoolboys name,  
Thither went I; for (though I'll not compare)  
With any of them that my fellows were;  
Yet then (I'll speak it to my Teacher's praise)  
I was unfurnished of no needful lays;  
Nor any whit for Grammar rules to seek,  
In Lilies Latin, nor in Camden's Greek.  
But so well grounded that another day,  
I could not with our idle students say  
For an excuse I was ill entered; no:  
There are too-many know it was not so;  
And therefore since I came no wiser thence,  
I must confess it was my negligence,  
Yet daily longing to behold and see,  
The places where the sacred Sisters be;  
I was so happy to that ford I came,  
Of which an Ox, they say, bears half the name:  
It is the spring of knowledge that imparts,  
A thousand several Sciences, and Arts,  
A Crystal fount, whose water is by odds,  
Far sweeter than the Nectar of the Gods:  
Or for to give't a title that befits,  
It is the very Nursery of wits;  
There once arrived, cause my wits were raw,  
I fell to wondering at each thing I saw  
And for my learning made a months vacation,  
In nothing of the places situation:  
The Palaces and Temples that were due  
Unto the wife Minerva's hallowed crew;  
Their cloisters, walks, and groves all which surveyed,  
And in my new admittance well paid;  
I did (as other idle Freshmen do)  
Long for to see the Bell of Osney to:  
But yet, indeed (may not I grieve to tell?)  
I never drank at Aristotle's Well.  
And that perhaps may be the reason why,  
I know so little in Philosophy.  
Yet old Sir Harry Bath was not forgot,  
In the remembrance of whose wondrous shot,  
The Forest by (believe it they that will)  
Retains the surname of shotover still:  
Then having seen enough, and therewithal,  
Got some experience at the Tennisball,  
My Tutor (telling me I was not sent,  
There to be idle, but with an intent,  
For to increase my knowledge), called me in,  
And with his grave instructions did begin  
To teach: And by his good persuasions sought,  
To bring me to a love of what he taught:  
Then after that he 'gan for to impart,  
The hidden secrets of the Logic Art;  
In steed of grammar rules he taught me than,  
Old Scotus, Seton, and new Keckerman.  
He show'd me which the Predicables be,  
As Genus, Species, and th' other three,  
So having said enough of their contents,  
Handles in order the ten Predicaments,  
Then Post predicaments: with Priorum,  
Perhermenias' and posteriorum:  
He with the Topics opens; and descries  
Elenchi, full of subtle fallacies:  
These to unfold (indecd) he took some pain,  
But to my dull capacity in vain:  
For all he spoke was to as little pass,  
As in old time unto the vulgar was  
Their Latin service, which they understood  
aswell as did a horse to do them good,  
And I his meaning did as near conjecture,  
As if he had been reading Hebrew lecture;  
His Infinites, Indiuiduit●es,  
Contrari's, and Subcontrarieti's,  
Divisions: Subdivisions, and a crew  
Of terms and words such as I never knew;  
My shallow understanding so confounded,  
That I was gravelled like a ship that's grounded;  
And in despair the mystery to gain,  
Neglecting all took neither heed nor pain,  
Yea, I remained in that amazed plight,  
Till Cynthia six times lost her borrowed light,  
But then ashamed to find myself still mute,  
And other little Dandiprats dispute,  
That could distinguish upon Rationale,  
Yet scarcely heard of Ver●um Personale;  
And could by heart (like Parrots) in the Schools,  
Stand prattling, those me thought were pretty fools,  
And therefore in some hope to profit so,  
That I like them (at least) might make a show:  
I reached my books that I had cast about,  
(To see if I could pick the meaning out)  
And prying on them with some diligence,  
At length I felt my dull intelligence  
Begin to open; and perceived more,  
In half an hour then half a year before,  
And which is strange the things I had forgot,  
And till that very day remembered not,  
Since first my Tutor read them; those did then,  
Return into my memory again,  
●o that with which I had so much to do,  
A week made easy, yea and pleasing too.  
But then with that not thoroughly content,  
●practis'd to maintain an Argument,  
And having waded through Sophistry,  
●ell unto reading of Philosophy;  
And thinking there the Ethics not enough,  
● also had a longing for to know,  
The cause of snow, hail, thunder, frost, and rain,  
●he lightnings, meteors, and what here 'twere vain  
For me to speak of; since I shall but show-it,  
●o those that better than myself do know-it.  
Then from the causes of things natural,  
●went to matters metaphysical:  
Of which when I a little news could tell,  
● (as the rest did) unto wrangling fell.  
And as the fashion was for to disgrace her,  
When I opposed the truth I could outface her,  
●ut now ensues the worst, I getting foot,  
●nd well digesting Learnings bitter Root:  
●eady to taste the fruit; and when I thought  
●hould a Calling in that place have sought,  
●ound I was for other ends ordained,  
●ea to forsake this course I was constrained:  
●or fortune that full many a boon hath lost me,  
●hus in the reaping my contentment, crossed me.  
●u sir (quoth she) that I must make my slave,  
●or whom in store a thousand plagues I have,  
●ome home, I pray, and learn to hold the plough,  
●or you have read Philosophy enough.  
If wrangling in the schools be such a sport,  
Go to those Ployden's in the Inns of Court,  
For ask your parish-neighbors they can tell,  
Those fellows do maintain contention well;  
For Art in numbers you no coil need keep,  
A little skill shall serve to tell your sheep:  
Seek not the Stars thy evils should relate,  
Lest when thou know them, thou grow desperate;  
And let alone Geometry, 'tis vain,  
I'll find you work enough to mar your brain;  
Or would you study Music? else 'twere pity,  
And yet it needs not, you shall find I'll fit ye:  
I'll teach you how to frame a song, and will  
Provide you cares to be the subject still:  
This, Fortune or my Fate, did seem to tell me,  
And such a chance, indeed, ere long befell me,  
For ere my years would suffer me to be,  
Admitted for to take the lowest degree;  
By Fates appointment (that no stay can brook)  
The Paradise of England I forsook,  
And seeing I was forced to leave those mountains,  
Fine groves, fair walks, & sweet delightful fountains  
And since it might not unto me be granted,  
To keep those places where the Muses haunted,  
I home returned somewhat discontent,  
And to our Bentworth beechy shadows went:  
Bewailing these my first endeavours lost,  
And so to be by angy fortune crossed,  
Who though she daily do much mischief to me,  
Can never whilst I live a greater do me;  
And yet in that, ere she procured her will,  
I learned enough to scorn a Fortune still:  
Yea use hath made her envy seem so vain,  
That I am almost proud in her disdain:  
But being back returned, as I have said,  
Having a little in the Country staid,  
I there espied (as I had long suspected)  
I (undeserved) of some was ill affected,  
And that by those 'tis thought my friends had been,  
But though they kept their malice long unseen,  
And made fair shows as if they sought my good;  
Yet they the same of all men most withstood,  
For, (seeming kind) they often did persuade  
My friends, to learn me some Mechanic trade,  
Urging expense (perhaps) and telling how,  
That Learning is but little made of now;  
When 'twas through malice, cause they feared that I  
Might come to understand my state thereby,  
Exceed their knowledge, and attain to do,  
Myself more good, than they could wish me to:  
For that, a worse, or some such scurvy end,  
This self-conceited crew did ever bend  
Their spiteful heads, by secret means to cross  
My wished desire, and to procure my loss:  
But having noted this their hollowness,  
And finding that mere Country business,  
Was not my Calling; to avoid their spite,  
(Which at that season was not shown outright)  
I to the City often did resort,  
To see if either that place, or the Court,  
Would yield preferment; but in vain I sought,  
Ill fortune still my hopes confusion wrought.  
Which though for an ill sign some understood,  
Yet I presumed upon some future good.  
For though I scarce am wished so well of some,  
I hope I have a happy time to come:  
Which, when I have most need of comfort, shall  
Send me true joy to make amends for all;  
But say it be not whilst I draw this air,  
I have a heart (I hope) shall near despair;  
Because there is a God, with whom I trust,  
My soul shall triumph, when my body's dust;  
But when I found that my endeavours still,  
Fell out as they would have't that wished me ill,  
And when I saw the world was grown so coy,  
To deem me then to young for to employ:  
And that her greatness thought she did not want me  
Or found no Calling bad enough to grant me,  
(And having scaped a thrall which I'll not touch,  
Here in this place, for fear I have too much  
Spoke on't elsewhere;) I say well weighing this,  
Together what a foul reproach it is,  
To be still idle: and because I spied  
How glad they would be that my state envied  
To find me so although the world doth scorn  
T' allow me action, as if I were borne  
Before my time; yet for to let them see  
In spite of fortune I'll employed be;  
Casting Preferments too much care aside  
And leaving that to God for to provide;  
The times abuses I observed and then  
In general the state and tricks of men,  
Wherein although my labour were not seen,  
Yet (trust me) the discovery hath been,  
My great content: and I have for my pain,  
Although no outward, yet an inward gain.  
Of which because I can with all my heart,  
Allow my Countrymen to have a part,  
And cause I think it may do some a pleasure,  
On opportunity I'll now take seizure,  
And summon up my Muse to make relation,  
I may b' employed ere long, now's my Vacation.   

AN INTRODUCTION.  
COme then Invention, and call judgement in,  
Knowledge, and Reason, fie where have you been?  
Go whistle off my Muse that wanton plays,  
With Epigrams, Love-sonnets, Roundelays,  
And such like trifling game; Bid her come on,  
I have found braver prey to seize upon.  
●ome new inspiring prayer warms my heart,  
And adds fresh courage unto every part:  
New blood hath filled up all my love-dried veins,  
● sacred Fury hath possessed my brains.  
And something too there is that swells my breast,  
●il that be uttered I expect no rest;  
For full with matter like a Sibyl Nun,  
I shall grow furious till this task be done.  
Then rouse thee Muse each little Hobby plies,  
At Scarabs and painted Butterflies:  
Leave thou such trash, it is not now for us,  
To fly for pleasure; we'll in earnest truss,  
But thou look'st dull; unfit for lofty things,  
Thy wanton flight I fear hath tir' the thy wings,  
Lest therefore thou shouldst faint, forsake th●efist,  
And turn thyself into a Satirist;  
Not of the roughest, nor the mildestsort,  
Be most in earnest, but sometimes in sport,  
What e'er thou find to speak be not afraid,  
And for assistance crave jehovahs' aid.  
Use all thy art, for why, thou must unfold,  
The strangest Nature that was ever told:  
At ripping up whereof some smart will be,  
Yet go thou forward still, who dares touch thee?  
Dive if thou canst, till thou the bottom sound,  
Yet not too far lest thou thyself confound;  
Mistake me not, I mean not thou shouldst go,  
To search th' earth's centre what lies hid below,  
Or undermine it for rich Minerals  
Thou shalt not have to do with Vegetals,  
Strange natures have both Stones, Trees, Herbs, and Plants,  
Which let him speak of that a Subject wants,  
There is an Herb endeavoured whose virtues such,  
It in the pasture only with a touch,  
Vnshooes the new-shod steed: within the North,  
The Scottish Isles called Oreades brings forth  
Trees, (or else writers feign it) from whose seeds,  
A certain kind of waterfoule proceeds.  
The Loadstone also draws the steel unto it,  
Yet hath not gin or instrument to do it,  
Rare properties you see, but neither these  
Nor what lies hidden in the vast wide Seas  
Mean I to speak off; I no knowledge have,  
What Monsters play with Neptune's boisterous wave,  
Nor quality of birds, nor beasts I found;  
For why their natures may be quickly found,  
Indeed we may by little inquisition,  
Find out the brutish creatures true condition,  
As for example we for certain know,  
The Elephant much love to man will show.  
The Tigers, Wolves, and Lions we do find,  
Are ravenous, fierce and cruel even by kind,  
We know at carrion we shall find the crows,  
And that the roost-cock when 'tis mid night knows:  
By a few days experience we may see,  
Whether the mastiff, cursed or gentle be;  
And many other natures we find out,  
Of which we have no cause at all to doubt,  
But there's another Creature called Man,  
Note him who will, and tell me if he can,  
What his condition is; observe his deeds,  
His speech, his raiment. yea and how he feeds  
Try him a month, a year, an age, and when  
You have so tried him; say, what is he then?  
Retains he either unto Praester john,  
Or else unto the whore of Babylon:  
If that you know not which of them to grant,  
Is he a Brownist or a Protestant?  
If in an Age you cannot find out whither  
Are you so much as sure that he is either?  
Is his heart proud or humble? know you where  
Or when, he hates, or loves, or stands in fear?  
Or who can say (in Conscience I think none)  
That this man's words, and deeds, & thoughts are one?  
Where shall you him so well resolved find,  
That wants a wandering and a wavering mind?  
Nay he of whom you have most trial, when  
You see him dying, will you trust him then?  
Perhaps you may; yet questionless he leaves you,  
A mind misdoubting still that he deceives you.  
And no great wonder; for he's such an else,  
That ever is uncertain of himself.  
He is not semper idem in his will,  
Nor stands on this or that opinion still,  
But varies; he both will and will not too,  
Yea even the thing he thinks and swears to do  
He many times omits. Now God forgive him,  
I wonder how another should believe him.  
But this same divers and inconstant creature,  
That so contrary is in his own nature,  
'Tis him my new-inspired Muse here tries,  
Whilst he is living to Anatomize:  
'tis his abuses and condition,  
(Although it be beyond all definition)  
I labour to discover: But aswell  
I may again drag Cerberus from hell:  
Alcides toils were much, yet this is more,  
Yea if his twise-sixe, had been twice sixscore.  
It is so infinite for to unfold,  
Although that I did speak till I were old,  
Yet should I leave vnnam'd I'm sure e'en than,  
Many a humour I have seen in man..  
And yet I must needs say in him there be,  
A thousand times more tricks than I can see.  
'tis wonderful, and my imagination  
Is almost overwhelmed with admiration;  
Indeed it is, so deep's man's heart; but yet,  
Since either want of years, or want of wit,  
Or lack of work, or lack of all, hath brought me,  
To be more heedful, than a number thought me;  
Since it some time and study too hath cost me,  
And many a humour of mine own hath lost me.  
Since it hurts none, and since perhaps some may,  
Be benefited by 't another day,  
Although it be a task that's not alone,  
Too huge for to be done by any one,  
But more than all the world can well dispatch,  
Yet look what my weak memory could catch,  
I'll here relate and nothing of it spare,  
Save things unfit, and such as neeedlesse are.  
Now some will say 'twere fit I held my tongue,  
For such a task as this I am too young:  
He ne'er had dealings in the world with men,  
How can he speak of their conditions then?  
He cannot they conclude: strong reasons why,  
Know none how market goes but such as buy?  
We see it happens that a shifting Knave,  
A sly deceitful Coney-catching slave,  
Playing at Cards with some unskilful gull,  
Whose purse is lined with Crowns and penniful,  
May put a nimble feat for to deceive;  
Which though a cunning gamester near perceive,  
He peradventure may the same descry,  
That is no player but a slander by:  
So I aloof may view, without suspicion,  
men's idle humours and their weak condition:  
Plainer perhaps than many that have seen,  
More days & on th' earth's stage have Actors been.  
And 'tis no marvel, for employment takes them,  
Quite from themselves, and so dim-sighted makes them  
They cannot see the fooleries they do,  
Nor what ill passions they are subject to:  
Then who ere carp, the course I have begun,  
In spite of them I will (God helping) run:  
And lest th' exordium hath too tedious been,  
My Observations lo I now begin.   

OF man..  
MOunted aloft on Contemplation's wings,  
And noting with myself the state of things,  
I plainly did perceive as on a stage,  
The confused actions of this present age,  
I viewed the World, and I saw my fill,  
Because, that all I saw therein was ill.  
I weighed it well and found it was the scene,  
Of Villainy, of Lust, and all unclean  
And loathed corruption. Seeing which my Mind,  
(That by some inspiration gan to find  
The place was not in fault for this) searched on,  
To find the cause of this confusion.  
And noting every Creature, there I found,  
That only Man was the chief spring and ground  
Of all this uproar; Yea I soon did see,  
He there was all in all, and none but he;  
Then being also willing for to know,  
What thing man was, I did begin to grow  
Yet more inquisitive. An old Record  
At last I happed upon which did afford  
Much sacred light. It showed Man was a Creature,  
First made by God, Just, and upright by nature,  
In his own Likeness. That he was compounded  
Of soul and body: That this last was founded  
Of earth: The first infused by inspiration,  
And that the final cause of his creation,  
Was to set forth the glory of his maker,  
And with him to be made a joint-partaker  
Of enldes' happiness. Grown much amazed,  
To read this of him for a time I paused,  
And finding now in man no mark or sign,  
That ere he was a Creature so divine,  
I knew not what to think, unless the same,  
Meant any other Creature of that name:  
But prying further on I there found out,  
The resolution of my present doubt,  
I saw the cause of's fall: How with free-will  
He fell from his first goodness unto ill:  
I saw how he from happiness did slide,  
Through disobedience and unthankful pride:  
Yea and I found, how by that cursed fall,  
He was bereaved and quite stripped of all  
That so adorned him; his first holiness,  
Was changed to a corrupted filthiness  
Then he began to draw a painful breath,  
And was a slave, made captive unto Death;  
His body was exposed to labour, sweat,  
And much disquieting: He got his meat  
With sorrow, care, and many perturbations,  
And then his soul grew subject unto Passions  
And strange distemperatures. Moreover he,  
So perfect miserable grew to be,  
That if he had not a Re-generation;  
Nothing was left him but mere desperation.  
Having seen this, I made no question than,  
But this was spoken of the Creature Man  
Which I sought after: Searching further yet,  
On some Apocryphal Records I hit,  
The works of wise Philosophers; from whence,  
I have received more intelligence  
Concerning him, for there they do unfold,  
Each part about his body, and have told  
Secrets of Nature very rare to find,  
Besides they have considered of the Mind:  
The understanding part, and do relate  
The Nature of his soul, and her estate:  
Deep mysteries indeed: But cause that I  
Cannot dive into that Philosophy,  
So far as these. And since I shall but tell,  
Those things which no men can explain so well  
As they themselves, I leave you to their books,  
In which he that with good advisement looks,  
Shall find it largely handled: As for me,  
I mean to speak but what I know and see  
By tried experience, which perhaps may give,  
(Although I have but now begun to live)  
Some profitable notes. First I avow,  
What ever Man hath been, that he is now,  
A Reasonable living Creature: who  
Consisteth of a soul and body toe.  
His Bodye's flesh and blood, subject to sinning,  
Corrupting even in his first beginning,  
And full of all uncleanness: Then his soul,  
Is a pure lasting substance yet made foul  
Through th' others filthiness: much suppressed  
By divers hurtful passions which molest  
And hinder her proceedings; yea he's this,  
A Creature that exceeding wretched is,  
And that he may be sure no fault to want,  
Vain, Fickle, Weak, and wondrous Arogazt.  
And though his nature heretofore were pure,  
Now nothing is more fading or unsure.  
But I'll omit at this time to relate,  
The curses I've observed in's outward state,  
For though the body, that before the fall  
Sustained no sorrow, were it never so small:  
Doth now feel hunger, with heat, thirst and cold,  
A feeble birth, defects in being old,  
With thousands more; and though each gasp of breath,  
In misery he draw until his death.  
Yet all this outward change which I do find,  
Is nothing when I do behold the mind:  
For there (as I have said) abused passion,  
Keeps Umpire, and hath got predomination.  
Virtues deposed thence, and Vice rule obtains;  
Yea Vice from Vice there by succession reigns:  
Thrusting out those that virtues presence graced  
And in their steeds these hurtful monsters placed  
Fond Love, and Lust, Ambition, Enmity,  
Foolish Compassion, joy and jealousy:  
Fear, Hope, Despair, and Sadness, with the Vic●  
Called Hate, Revenge, and greedy Avarice,  
Choler and Cruelty: which I perceived,  
To be the only causes man's bereaved  
Of quietness and rest. And these I found  
To be the principal, and only ground  
Of all pernicious mischiefs that do rage,  
Or have disturbed him in any age,  
And therefore I do here intend to show,  
Ere I go farther, what ill humours flow  
From these forenamed; yea I will declare,  
To what abuses most men subject are  
Through any of them: For when as I took view,  
Although I saw not all, I found a few;  
And for because I will not order break,  
I will asunder of each passion speak.   

OF THE PASSION. OF LOVE.  
SATYR. 1.  
FIrst Love; the same I here the first do call,  
Because that passion is most Natural;  
And of itself could not be discommended,  
Wert not with many a foul abuse attended,  
Or so much out of measure, as we see,  
By those in whom it reigns it oft will be:  
For look wher't grows into extremity,  
It soon becometh virtues Laethargy,  
Makes them set light by reasons sound direction,  
And bears them headlong by untamed affection.  
C●unsels in vain, cause when this fit doth take them  
Reason and understanding doth forsake them;  
It makes them sometime merry, sometime sad,  
Untamed men mild, and many a mild man mad:  
To fools it wisdom gives, and makes the witty  
To show themselves most fools (the more's the pity)  
Some it makes purblind, that they do not know,  
The Snow white Cygnet from the coal-black Crow;  
That one to gold compares his Mistress hair,  
When 'tis like foxe-fur and doth think she's fair,  
Though she in beauty be not far before,  
The Swart West-Indian, or the tawny Moor.  
Oh those fair Starlike eyes of thine, one says:  
When to my thinking she hath looked nine ways;  
And that sweet breath; when I think (out upon't)  
'Twould blast a flower if she breathed on't,  
Another having got a dainty piece,  
(Prouder than jason with his golden fleece)  
Commends her virtues that hath just as many,  
As a shee-baud that never yet had any.  
Yet swears she's chaste and takes her for no more,  
When all her neighbours knows she is a—  
Another he grows careless of his health,  
Neglects his credit and consumes his wealth,  
Hath found a pretty peat, procured her favour,  
And swears that he in spite of all, will have her;  
Well let him take her since they are contented,  
But such rash-matches are the soonest repent.  
Then there is one who having found a peer,  
In all things worthy to be counted dear;  
Wanting both Art and heart his mind to break,  
Sits sighing (woe is me) and will not speak.  
All company he hates, is oft alone,  
Grows Melancholy, weeps, respecteth none;  
And in despair seeks out a way to die,  
When he might live and find a remedy.  
But how now; wast not you (says one) that late  
So humbly begged a boon at beauty's gate?  
Was it not you that to a female Saint  
Indicted your Aretophels' complaint,  
With many doleful Sonnets, was't not you?  
Sure 'twas says he: but then how comes it now  
You carp at love thus in a Satyrs vain?  
Take heed you fall not in her hands again,  
Sure if you do, you shall in open court,  
Be forced to sing a Palinodia fort.  
What are your brains dry, or yourblood grown cold?  
Or are you on a sudden waxen old?  
To flout at love, which men of greatest wit,  
Allow in youth as natural and fit.  
What reason have you for't else? what pretence  
Have you for to excuse this vild offence?  
To him I answer that indeed een'e I  
Was lately subject to this malady:  
Liked what I now dislike; employed good times  
In the composing of such idle Rhymes  
As are objected: From my heart I sent  
Full many a heavy sigh, and oft-times spent  
Unmanly tears. I have, I must confess,  
Thought if my Love smiled that no happiness  
Might equalize it, and her frown much worse,  
(O God forgive me) than the Church's curse,  
I did (as some do) not much matter make,  
To hazard soul and body for her sake,  
Having no hope sometime I did despair,  
Sometime too much built castles in the air,  
In many a foolish humour I have been,  
As well as others; look where I have seen  
Her (whom I loved) to walk, when she was gone,  
Thither I often have repaired alone:  
As if I thought the places did contain,  
Something to ease me (oh exceeding vain:)  
Yet what if I have been thus idly bend,  
Shall be now ashamed for to repent?  
Moreover I was in my childhood than,  
And am scarce yet reputed for a man..  
And therefore neither cold, nor old, nor dry;  
Nor cloyed with any foul disease am I,  
'Tis no such cause that made me change my mind,  
But my affection that before was blind,  
Rash and unruly, now begins to find  
That it had run a large and fruitless race,  
And thereupon hath given Reason place.  
So that by Reason, what no Reason might  
Persuade me from before; I have outright,  
justly forsaken; for because I see  
'Twas vain, absurd, and nought but foolery,  
Yet for all this look where I loved of late,  
I have not turned it in a spleen to hate:  
No, for 'twas first her Virtue and her Wit,  
Taught me to see how much I wanted it;  
Then as for Love, I do allow it still,  
I never did disliked nor never will;  
So it be virtuous, and contained within,  
The bounds of Reason; but when 'twill begin,  
To run at random and her limits break;  
I must, because I cannot choose but speak.  
But I forget myself, wherefore am I  
So tedious in my own Apology?  
It needed not at all, I'll on again,  
And show what kind of Lovers yet remain:  
One sort I find yet of this loving crew,  
Whose quality I think is known to few:  
These seek by all the means they can to gain  
Each Virgins liking: Sometime not in vain,  
They do obtain their wish, but when 'tis got,  
Sorry they are and wish they had it not.  
For peradventure they have placed their Love,  
So as it cannot, nor it must not move  
And yet if they should fail for to procure it,  
'Twould grieve them so they hardly would endure it.  
Yea though in show (at least) they have said nay,  
Their Loves with like affection to repay,  
If they perceived abate, as it will do,  
Both this and that, doth make them sorry too.  
But he that is with such a humour led,  
I may be bold to term a watle-head.  
Moreover men in placing their affection,  
Have feu'rall humours for to give direction.  
Some like the Fair, but there's not all the grace,  
She may be fair, and have a squeamish face,  
Some like the wanton, some the modest eyes,  
The pace, or gesture some's affection ties.  
A smile wins one, another's looks moves pity,  
The next commends the lass that's bold and witty.  
Again some love where they no cause can find,  
But only this; the wench they see is kind.  
Yea one doth think her fair (another loathes)  
Because she seems so in her gaudy clothes.  
More sorts there are; but sure I am, not many  
That for bare Virtue have affected any.  
Wealth many matches makes; but most can prove  
Though it breeds liking, yet it wins not love.  
Then to obtain his Mistress, one man tries,  
How he can stretch his wits to Poetize:  
His Pass●a● to relate his skill he proves,  
But in this blockish age it little moves;  
Nor do I wonder much true meaning fails,  
And wit so little in this case avails,  
Since dunces can have sannets framed & send them,  
As their inventions, when some others penned them.  
Another seeks by Valour to obtain,  
His wished prize, but now that trial's vain;  
The third brings wealth, and if he do not speed,  
The woman's worth the suing for indeed.  
Then he that's neither valorous nor wise,  
Comes ruffling in, with shameless brags and lies,  
Making a stately, proud, vainglorious show,  
Of much good matter, when 'tis nothing so.  
In steed of lands, to which he ne'er was heir,  
He tells her tales of Castles in the air,  
For martial matters, he relates of frays,  
Where many drew their swords & ran their ways.  
His Poetry is such as he can cull,  
From plays he heard at Curtain or at Bull,  
And yet is fine coy Mistress- Marry-Muffe,  
The soonest taken with such broken stuff.  
Another shallow brain hath no devise,  
But prates of some strange casts he had at dice,  
Brags of his play, yea sure it doth befall,  
He vaunts oft-times of that which marreth all;  
But some I note (now fie on such a man)  
That make themselves as like them as they can,  
Thereby to win their loves; they feign their pace;  
Order their looks, and strive to set their face  
To look demure: Some woo by nods, and looks,  
Some by their sighs, and others by their books;  
Some have a nature must not be denied,  
And will grow furious if they be delayed:  
Others again have such a fancy got,  
If they soon speed than they esteem them not.  
When women woe, some men do most affect them,  
And some again for wantoness do suspect them:  
Besides, we see that fools themselves they make,  
What toys they count of for their wench's sake;  
One for some certain months, or weeks, or days,  
Wears in his hat a branch of withered bays.  
Or swears for to employ his utmost power,  
For to preserve some stale-neglected flower:  
He wears such colours as for Lovers be,  
Drinks vowed healths upon his bared knee:  
Sue's mainly for a shoestring, or doth crave her,  
To grant him but a busk-point for a favour:  
And then to note (as I have seen) an Ass  
That by her window, whom he loves, must pass,  
With what a feigned pace, the Woodcock stalks;  
How skuruely he sleareth as he walks:  
And if he ride, how he rebounds and trots,  
As if his horse were troubled with the bots;  
'Twould make one swell with laughing: In a day  
He makes more errands than he needs that way,  
Bearing himself as if he still espied him,  
When as perhaps she flouts, or looks beside him:  
Nay should I tell you all the Vanity,  
I have observed in this malady,  
I should shame Lovers, but I'll now be hushed,  
For had I said more I myself had blushed:  
Yet know; although this passion I have tied  
To love of women, it concludes beside  
All whatsoever kind of loves there be,  
Unless they keep the mind from trouble free,  
And yield to reason: but of suchlike lovers,  
My Muse hereafter other feats discovers.   

OF DESIRE OR LUST.  
SATYR. 2.  
LVstfull desire, (although 'twere rather fit.  
To some bruit creature to attribute it)  
Shall in man's heart retain the second place;  
Because it shrouds her vile deformed face  
Under loves vizard, and assumes that name,  
Hiding her own fault with the others blame:  
'tis a base passion, from the which doth flow  
Many base humours; 'tis the overthrow  
Of all in whom it enters; 'tis an evil,  
Worse than to be possessed with a devil:  
This 'tis that oft hath caused public strife,  
And private discord; this makes man and wife  
Grow each to other cold in their affection,  
And to the very marrow sends infection;  
And as Physicians say, it makes the face  
Look wan, pale, yellow, and doth much deface  
The beauty of it; and as for the fight  
It either dums it or bereaves it quite;  
It dries the body, and from thence doth sprout  
Griefs of the stomach, leprosy and gout,  
With other such; beside it doth decay  
Not life alone, but also takes away,  
Both memory and understanding toe;  
So Doctors that have tried it, say 'twill do.  
And which way comes that foul disease to us  
We call the French, so vile and odious:  
Is't not by Lust? Breed not suchlike desires,  
Children begotten by uncertain Sires?  
Strange Generations, beds so oft defiled;  
That many a father scarcely knows his child?  
Or, is't not hence this common Proverb grows,  
'tis a wise child that his oane father knows?  
Doth it not others reputations foil?  
And them e'en of their dearest jewels spoil?  
Yes, yes; and hence a thousand other crimes  
Do daily spring, and yet in these our times  
'tis highly made of: yea 'tis lust doth wear  
The richest garments, and hath curiou'st far;  
The softest beds it hath for to repose,  
With sweet perfumes, but sure there's need of those.  
Drawn in a coach it visits now and then  
Some near acquaintance, 'mongst the Noblemen;  
Yet doth it not the Court alone frequent,  
But is i'th' City as much resident:  
Where when it walks the street it doth employ,  
Either a Apprentice, or a roaring-boy  
To usher it along, and few disdain it,  
But those unable for to entertain it.  
'Twere much to note the pain that some endure,  
And cost that they'll be at for to procure  
Their beastly wills: There's many spend their stocks  
In ruffs, gowns, kirtles, petticoats, and smocks,  
For which one's paid with that shall make him craul,  
(If he be friended) to some Hospital.  
Another's quitted for his wel-spent stuff,  
By some grim Sergeant with a Counterbuff:  
The last it brings, if still that course he follows,  
First to the jail, and so forth to the Gallows.  
And what have you observed to have been  
The usual associates of this sin?  
But filthy speeches, bold faced impudence.  
Unseemly actions, riot, negligence,  
And such as these; yea to procure their lust  
It makes them into any mischiefs thrust,  
How hateful or apparent ere they be,  
Or put in practise any villainy.  
Moreover, where it enters once, the mind,  
Cannot true rest, nor any quiet find.  
We see it also makes them for to crave,  
Not what is best, but what they long to have,  
Yea, Lust hath many mischiefs that ensue it,  
Which most men see, but few the less eschew it:  
Men rather now, as if 'twere no offence,  
Are grown to such a shameless impudence,  
They vaunt and brag of their lascivious facts,  
No less than some, of brave Heroic acts.  
And not a few of this same humour be,  
That would be termed the foes of chastity.  
By whom if I see ill, I'll sure conceal it,  
For they themselves will to their shames reveal it:  
There's others who disliking so to vaunt,  
Will, si non castè, tamen cautè grant,  
For that's their Motto, they make modest shows,  
But what they do in secret, man near knows:  
Some make a Bawd of their divine profession,  
Like Shavelings in Auricular-confession.  
Th' other are bad, and sure of God accursed,  
But of all others, these I deem the worst.  
There's other Gallants would desire but this,  
Without suspicion for to talk and kiss:  
For other pleasures they do never crave them,  
Nay if they might, they swear they will not have them  
So mean, perhaps: but time brings alteration,  
And a fair woman is a shrewd temptation:  
Then many make their feigned love to be  
A cloak to cover their immodesty:  
These will protest and vow, and swear their life  
Consists in having whom they woo, to wife,  
Yet if the villains can their lust fulfil,  
They will forswear them and be living still:  
Some do court all, and not alone do prove,  
But for because with all they are in love,  
With such deep passion, that they cannot smother,  
Their hot affection till they meet another:  
But why will man against himself and Reason,  
Consent to such a Tyrant in his treason?  
Why will he so his liberties forego  
To be a slave to such a monstrous foe?  
For what is this same passion We call lust,  
Is't not a Brutish longing and unjust,  
And foul desire of the soul, to gain  
Some evil pleasure? Or to speak more plain,  
A furious burning passion, whose hot fumes  
Corrupts the understanding, and consumes  
The very flesb of man? then what's the fact?  
What may I term that vile and shameful act,  
But this; The execution of an ill,  
Out of set purpose and with a good will,  
In spite of Reason? Tell me be't not base?  
When men shall so their worthy sex disgrace,  
To give their bodies in a deed unclean,  
With a foul nasty prostituted quean?  
Or in their understanding be so dull  
As to observe on idle shortheeld trull?  
A puling female Devil that hath smiles,  
Like Siren's songs, and tears like Crocodiles.  
Yet there be some (I will not name them now)  
Whom I have seen unto such Puppets bow,  
And be as serviceable as a groom,  
That fears another man will beg his room:  
They had been glad full oft to please their pride,  
With costly gifts, and forced for to abide,  
Imperious scoffs, with many scornful words;  
Such as the humours they are in, affords  
And yet for these they'll venture Honours, lives;  
If they command it; when for their poor Wives:  
(Though they in Beauty, love and true delight,  
Exceed them more than daytime doth the night)  
They'll scarcely take upon them for to speak,  
In any case of theirs their, loves so weak,  
Yea and their lust doth wrap them in such blindness  
They cannot give them one poor look in kindness.  
Moreover for their lust they have not laid  
Base plots alone, like him that was conveyed  
In a close trunk, because in secrecy,  
He would (unseen) enjoy his venery.  
I say not only therein have they retcht,  
Their damned inventions, It hath also stretched,  
Unto strange lusts, of which I will not speak,  
Because I may offend the mind that's weak,  
Or lest I to some simple one should show,  
Those sins by naming, he did never know:  
And here I leave: there's lurking holes such store,  
This stinking Vermin I will hunt no more.   

OF HATE.  
SATYR. 3.  
But I have roused another here as bad  
They call it: Hate; A worse I never had,  
Before in chase: I scarce can keep (insooth)  
Myself from danger of his venomed tooth.  
This is the Passion that doth use to move,  
The mind a clean contrary way to love;  
It is an inspiration of the Devil,  
That makes men long for one another's evil,  
It cankers in the heart, and plagueth most,  
Not him that's hated, but the hateful host.  
And yet there's to too many I do know,  
Whose hearts with this soul poison overflow:  
Of which I have a true intelligence,  
By the sharp scoffs and slanders springing thence,  
For where it rules they cannot well conceal it,  
But either words or deeds, or both reveal it,  
Were it just causes that did still engender  
This passion in them; or if they could render,  
A reason fort 'twere somewhat, but their will  
Carries them on in spite of Reason still.  
These are their humours, for a slight offence  
they'll hate th' offender for a recompense.  
Some malice all that any way excel,  
In which who thinks but they do very well,  
And many have abhorred (God amend them)  
The stranger that did never yet offend them:  
Which they are not ashamed for to confess,  
Yet in their hate continue never the less,  
But though that they can yield no reason why,  
They bear them causeless malice, yet can I:  
Their hearts are ill, and it is seldom known,  
That a sweet bro●ke from bitter springs hath flown:  
There's some to when they see a man respected  
More than themselves, though they be not neglected,  
They inly grudge, and outwardly disdain,  
Being alike conditioned as was Cain,  
Some hate their friends that love and count them dear,  
As by the sequel plainly shall appear;  
One that a seeming friendship had professed me,  
Upon a time did earnestly request me  
That I would plainly my opinion show,  
What I of his conditions thought or knew;  
And that I would without exceptions tell,  
What acts of his did not become him well.  
I scorning flattery, with a loving heart,  
Twixt him and me my mind did soon impart;  
And as a friend, that is unfeigned, ought,  
Left nothing unreveald of what I thought,  
Yea without fear I boldly reprehended,  
If I perceived he any way offended,  
Provided always that I did not swerver,  
From a decorum fitting to observe,  
But mark Man's nature: he perceiving I  
Had taken note of some infirmity,  
He would not have unripped; And seeing toe,  
I espied more than he wished I should do  
Of his ill humours; (though I must confess)  
Being my friend I loved him nothing less;  
In steed of thanks and liking for my pains,  
My company and sight he now refrains;  
And for my kindness like a thankless mate,  
Doth ill repay me with a loathing hate.  
This one I know, and by that one I find,  
That there be many bear as bad a mind,  
But let us for their true conversion pray,  
For we alas may very justly say.  
Quod nulla est in terra Charitas,  
Et Odium parit ipsa Veritas.  
Again the wicked hates beyond all measure  
The righteous man, that contradicts his pleasure;  
And that's the fundamental cause I know,  
That many men do hate their teachers so:  
These common humours are observed of few,  
Yet may a young experience find them true.  
And boldly say that all in whom theyare found,  
Have poisoned hearts polluted and unsound,  
But they corrupted above all the rest,  
Which hate their friends they should account of best  
But let Men strive and study to remove  
This passion from their hearts and graff on love.  
Let them not harbour such a hellish sin,  
Which being entered marreth all within;  
Nor let them think my counsel merits laughter,  
Since Scripture says, to hate our brother's slaughter   

OF ENVY.  
satire. 4  
THen some envenomed with an envious touch,  
Think every thing their neighbour hath to much▪  
O Lord say they (if in the field they be)  
What goodly corn, and well-fed beasts hath he?  
(If in the house) they never in their lives,  
Saw fairer women than their neighbour's wives:  
'tis pity she that puts so many down,  
Should be embraced by so rude a clown:  
That house is too well furnished, or doth stand,  
Better than his, or it hath finer land:  
This farm hath profits more than his by much,  
For wood and water he had never such.  
Yea so he grudges inwardly and frets  
At every good thing that his neighbour gets:  
Of these beside there are that when they see,  
Any beloved, or in favour be,  
Especially in Courts, and great men's houses,  
Then the heart swelleth, and the Envious rouses,  
ne'er resting till that like a spiteful elf,  
He do displace them or disgrace himself.  
Now some are in the mind that hate and This,  
Still go together and one Passion is;  
Indeed, they soul injurious Humours be,  
So like, they seem to have affinity:  
But if 'twere so, me thinks betwixt them both,  
There should arise more wrangling them there doth,  
So 'tis with kinsmen, they envy the good  
Of those that are the same in flesh and blood.  
But here may be the difference, and it shall  
Hate doth extend to some, and this ●o all:  
Yet envious men do least spite such as be  
Of ill report, or of a low degree:  
But rather they do take their aim at such,  
Who either well-beloved are, or rich:  
And therefore some do fitly liken these,  
Unto those flies we term Cantharideses:  
Cause for the most part they alight on none,  
But on the flowers that are fairest blown:  
Or to the boisterous wind which sooner grubs  
The stately Cedar than the humble shrubs:  
But yet that sometimes shakes the bush below,  
And moves the leaf that's Withered long ago:  
As if he had not shown sufficient spite,  
Unless it also could o'erwhelm him quite  
And bury it in earth; So I have found,  
The blast of envy flies as lows the ground.  
And though it hath already brought a man  
Even unto the meanest state it can,  
Yet 'tis not satisfied, but still devising,  
Which way it also may disturb his rising,  
This I know true; or else it could not be  
That any man should hate or envy me,  
Being a creature, (one would think) that's placed  
Too low for to be touched with envies blast,  
And yet I am; I see men have espied,  
Something in me too, that may be envied;  
But I have found it now: and know the matter.  
The reason, they are rich and i'll not flatter:  
Yes and because they see that I do scorn,  
To be their slave whose equal I am borne,  
I heard (although 'twere spoken in a cloud)  
They censure that my knowledge makes me proud,  
And that I reach so far beyond my calling,  
They every hour do expect my falling:  
With many a prayer, and prognostication  
To show their love not worthy Revelation,  
But what care I; to quit their good surmising,  
I do desire my fall may be their rising.  
Which say should once be, as I hope 'twill never,  
I trust to God it shall not be for ever;  
And for because I know it cannot be,  
Much lower than it is, it grieves not me,  
And where they say my wit augments my pride,  
My conscience tells me that I am belied:  
For knowledge of my wants doth grieve me so,  
I have small joy to boast of that I know.  
But let them scandal as I hear they do,  
And see whose lot the shame will fall unto;  
The shafts are aimed at me, but I'll reject them,  
And on the shooters too, perhaps reflect them,  
I care not for their envy, since they show it;  
Nor do I fear their malice, now I know it:  
For to prevent the venom of their throat,  
I'll of this poison make an Antidote:  
And their presaging (though it be abuse)  
I hope will serve me to an excellent use;  
For where before I should have took no heed,  
Their words shall make me circumspect indeed.  
Yea I will be more careful to do well,  
Which were a plague as bad for them as hell.  
Some I do know, yea too too well I know them,  
And in this place do a remembrance owe them,  
These; when that through their envy they intent,  
To bring one out of favour with his friend,  
Will make as though they some great vices knew,  
That he is guilty of, and not a few:  
they'll shake their heads, as if they did detest  
The course he follows; and that not in jest.  
If to the Father they dispraise the son,  
It shall be slily, indirectly done:  
And thus (I hope) there's some will understand,  
He lives I tell you at a s●cond hand.  
Should I say all I know, 'twould much offend you,  
But more such children I pray God ne'er send you,  
With other words of doubt to breed suspicion,  
But dare not (being of a base condition)  
To name them any fault: And good cause why,  
It may be proved unto their shames a lie;  
Now 'tis a quality I do despise,  
As such a one doth him whom he envies,  
If therefore any do that love profess me,  
Lord from their friendship I beseech thee bless me,  
Some crafty ones will honour to their face,  
Those whom they dare not openly disgrace:  
Yet underhand, their fames they'll undermine,  
As lately did a seeming friend of mine;  
They'll sow their slanders as if they with grief,  
Were forced to speak it: or that their unbelief  
Were loath to credit it, when 'tis well known,  
The damned invention was at first their own:  
Some do not care how grossly they dispraise,  
Or how unlikely a report they raise;  
Because they know if 't be so false an ill,  
That one believes it not, another will;  
And so their envy very seldom fails,  
But one way or another, still prevails:  
Oh villainous conceit! an engine bent  
To overthrow the truest innocent;  
For well they know, when once a slander's sown,  
And that a false report abroad is blown,  
Though they would wipe it out; yet they can never,  
Because some scar will stick behind for ever.  
But what is this, that men are so inclined  
And subject to it? how may't be defined?  
Sure if the same be rightly understood,  
It is a grief that springs from others good.  
And vexes them if they do but hear tell,  
That other men's endeavours prosper well,  
It makes them grieve when any man is friended,  
Or in their hearing praised, or commended,  
chose again, such is their spite:  
In other men's misfortunes they delight;  
Yea, notwithstanding it be not a whit  
Unto their profit, not their benefit,  
Others prosperity doth make them lean,  
Yea it devoureth and consumes them clean:  
But if they see them in much grief, why that  
Doth only make them jocund, full and fat;  
Of kingdoms ruin they best love to hear,  
And tragical reports do only cheer  
Their hellish thoughts: And then their bleared eyes  
Can look on nothing but black infamies,  
Reproachful actions, and the foulest deeds,  
Of shame, that man's corrupted nature breeds:  
But they must wink when Virtue shineth bright,  
For fear her lustre mar their weakened sight.  
They do not love Encomiastic stories.  
Or for to read their predecessors glories;  
For good report to all men they deny,  
And both the living and the dead envy:  
Yea many of them▪ I do think had rather  
Lose all good fame then share't with their own father.  
The biting satire they do only like,  
And that at some particulars must strike,  
Or als worth nothing: if they can apply  
Some part of this to him they do envy,  
As well perhaps they may, then they'll commend it,  
And spite of their ill natures, I that penned it,  
Shall have some thank, but why? not cause they deem  
Me, or my writing either worth esteem:  
No, here's the reason they thy labour like.  
They think I mean him, then suppose I strike:  
Now whose endeavours think you prosper should,  
If the event of things were as these would?  
(No man can answer that, for it's unknown)  
Nor parents, no nor children's, scarce their own:  
(I say) their own hand-works are seldom free,  
But subject to their proper envies be:  
‛ Witness a certain richman, who of late  
‛ Much pitying a Neighbours woeful state,  
‛ Put to his helping hand, and set him clear  
‛ From all his former misery and fear:  
‛ But when he saw that through his thrift, and heed,  
‛ He had well cured again his former need,  
‛ And grew to pretty means, though he no whit  
‛ Unthankful was for this his benefit:  
‛ Yet, being of a nature that did long,  
‛ And joy, to see another's case go wrong,  
‛ Having no 2. cause; much grieved now,  
‛ That he once helped him; all his study's how,  
to ruinate the poor man's state again,  
‛ And make through Envy his own labour vain.  
I wonder men should so from reason range,  
Or entertain a humour that's so strange  
And so unprofitable, tell me why,  
Should we the honours, or the wealth envy  
Of other men? if we delight to see,  
Our brethren when in evil case they be,  
Le's wish them Riches, Titles, and promotion,  
'twill make them greedy, proud, & choke devotion,  
'twill plunge them in a flood of misery,  
In the respect of which, the beggary  
We think so vile, is heaven, Yea I know,  
It is a thousand more men's overthrow  
Then Poverty can be. That if we hate,  
Or would envy who are in happy state,  
In my opinion they must not be such  
That titles have attained, or to be rich;  
No, poor men rather, who are cumbered less,  
And have indeed the truest happiness.  
But be they rich or no, I pass not whether,  
For my part, I am sure, I envy neither,  
So I but reach the glory I desire,  
I do not care how many mount up higher;  
And if I want not, what hurt is'● to me,  
If I the poorest in the kingdom be?  
Yet from this Passion, I believe not many  
Can be exempted, if there may be any:  
But sure more mischief always doth betide  
Th' envious then to him that is envied;  
And they have often, (who would then bemoan?)  
Lost both their eyes to lose their neighbour one:  
Yea there is many a perjured envious Noddy;  
Damns his own soul to hurt his neighbour's body.  
But now such men may best by this be known,  
They'll speak in no man's praise but in their own,  
And in their presence but commend a man,  
They'll from his worth detract e'en all they can:  
So do the foul mouthed Zoili, spiteful Momes,  
Whose eyes on every new penned treatise rome's.  
Not for their own avail or benefit;  
To feed their humours by disgracing it,  
They rather seek: and that they'll disallow  
Which they would mend themselves, if they knew how:  
But what are they that keep this censuring court,  
None I'll assure you of the wisest sort;  
None of the wisest said I: yet content ye,  
They are a great way past Ass in presenti;  
And think themselves, (but thought sometime is free)  
A great deal wiser than indeed they be,  
For howsoever their insinuation  
Hath gained a little vulgar reputation,  
They are but glow-worms that are brisk by might,  
And never can be seen when sun gives light;  
Ill tongued and envious, ignorant of shame,  
And vile detractors of another's fame;  
But let them carp on, what need any care;  
Simce they are known for fools without compare;  
But fellow Christians, think upon this evil,  
Know 'tis an instigation of the Devil,  
Remember 'tis a known apparent foe  
To Charity; and friendships overthrow.  
A vicious humour, that with Hell acquaints,  
And hinders the communion of Saints:  
Consider that, and how it makes unable,  
To be partaker of the holy Table.  
And so I trust you'll root it from the heart,  
And, as th'Apostle counsels, lay apart  
Dissembling, Envy, Slander, Malice, Guile;  
And evil-speaking as most bad and vile.  
Chiefly in those men, whose Religion saith,  
Her mainest pillar, is True-love, next Faith.   

OF REVENGE.  
SATYR. 5.  
Room for Revenge, he's no Commedian  
That acts for pleasure, but a grim Tragedian,  
A foul stern monster, which if we displease;  
Death, wounds and blood, or nothing can appease;  
So wicked that though all good men disdain it,  
Yet there are many rashly entertain it,  
And hug it as a sweet contented Passion:  
But all men act not in one kind, nor fashion,  
For one so private is, that no man knows it;  
Another cares not, before whom he shows it,  
Then some of them are fearful, some are bolder,  
Some are too hot, and some again are colder:  
Oh, I have seen, and laughed at heart to see't,  
Some of our hotspurs drawing in the street,  
As though they could not Passions rage withstand▪  
But must betake them to it out of hand.  
But why i'th' street? Oh company doth heart them,  
And men m●y see their valorous acts and part them.  
That humour yet, I rather do commend  
Then theirs whose fury hath no stay nor end;  
Till of their lives they have bereft their foes,  
And then they think they pay them; yet who b●● knows▪  
That 'tis a small revenge? since to be slain,  
Is to be free from danger, care and pain.  
So whilst his enemy lies and feels no smart,  
He hath a thousand tortures in his heart.  
And say his conscience do escape a flaw,  
He brings himself in danger of the Law.  
If such revenge be sweet sure I'll forgive,  
And never seek for vengeance whilst I live.  
But oh (me thinks) I here our Hacsters' tell me,  
With thundering words, as if their breath would fell me:  
I am a Coward if I will not fight,  
True, Cavelieroes you have spoke the right,  
And if upon good terms you urge me to it,  
I have both strength and heart enough to do it,  
Which you should find; and yet my mind is still,  
Rather to defend myself then kill.  
But most men think, that he which kills his foe;  
Is most courageous: now I tell thee no:  
For he that hath a heart that fact to do,  
Is both a Tyrant and a Coward toe.  
But how is he a Coward some will ask?  
To answer that is but an easy task,  
Thus he is one: He having by his might,  
A power on him with whom he haps to fight:  
Thinks if he spare his life, in such a case,  
He one day may revenge his foul disgrace;  
That thought with fear, of future dangers fills him,  
Which to prevent, he like a Coward kills him.  
But those that justly in excuse can say,  
For present safety, they were forced to slay,  
I must count blameless. Thou that hast a Foe,  
Seek not to be his woeful overthrow.  
Rather if't may be keep him living still;  
I tell thee 'tis a necessary ill, (inimicus amicus)  
Myself have some, their lives I do no grudge,  
For they have done me service very much;  
And will do still for wheresoe'er I go,  
They make me careful what I speak, or do:  
And when I step aside I here on't roundly,  
Or (as themselves say) they will tell't me sound.  
Whereas my friend, till I were quite undone,  
Would let me still in mine own follies run,  
Or if he warn me it is so in sport,  
That I am scarce a whit the better sort.  
But this same good, I know but few can use,  
Because that they do better things abuse.  
Man's nature's ill, and I have noted this,  
If they upbraided be with what's amiss  
They cannot brook it, but are readier still,  
For to revenge that, then amend what's ill.  
We must not now our lusty-blouds gainsay,  
No not so much as in a yea, or nay;  
But presently we die for't (if we will)  
They have both hand, and heart prepared to kill.  
Let them but think a man to them injurious,  
Although he be not so, they'll strait grow furious  
And are so quickly up in a bravado,  
They are for nothing but the imbrocado:  
And in this humour they respect not whither,  
They be unto them friends, or foes, or neither;  
All are alike; and their hot choler ends,  
Not only love, and friendship, but their friends:  
I know 'twere vain if I should tell to these  
The peaceful mind of ancient Socrates:  
Or if I should Lycurgus' vengeance show,  
How he behaved himself unto his foe,  
●Twere but in vain (I say) for there's no doubt,  
Our watle-headed Gallant would but flout  
At their well tempered passions; since they deem,  
None now but fools, or madmen, worth esteeme●  
But what's the cause of their unbridled rage?  
Oh know it is a humour of their age,  
For to be foolish desperate; and many  
Account not of him will not fight with any  
On the least quarrel. Therefore most to gain,  
A little fame that way, though near so vain,  
Will put their lives in danger: nay there's some,  
Had rather have it then the life to come,  
Alas poor men, what hath bewitched your mind?  
How are you grown so senseless and so blind,  
For to affect vain shadows and let slide,  
The true substance, as a thing unspied?  
●s Reason in you grown so great a stranger,  
To suffer an affection of such danger  
To settle in you? Banished from your breast,  
And there let Mercy and Forgiveness rest:  
●t is a token of a human mildness,  
But vengeance is a sign of Brutish wildness:  
Not fitting any but the Tiger, Bear,  
●r su●h like creatures, that remorseless tear  
What ere they light on. Cast it from you then,  
●e in condition as in shape y'are men;  
And stand unmoved, for Innocence ere long,  
Will show herself abroad in spite of wrong:  
And of your Patience you shall not repent,  
But be avenged to your own content:  
Yet some may say the Counsel I have given,  
Is hard to follow, strict, and too uneven,  
And whatsoever show I seem to make,  
Such as myself would hardly undertake.  
Know you that think so; I am not afraid.  
If that it be a burden I have laid,  
To bear't myself; Nay, I have undergone  
If this be hard, a more uneasy one:  
For but of late, a friend of mine in show,  
Being (indeed) a spiteful secret foe,  
I know not why, (for I did ne'er in ought  
Wrong him I'm sure; no not in an ill thought.)  
Yet this man having wisely watched his Time,  
When I (a stranger, in another Clime)  
Left my own Country; did mean while repair,  
To my best friends, and with dissemble fair,  
And shows of love and grief, did there unfold,  
The grossest slander, ever Villain told.  
A damned invention so exceeding vile,  
That gallants 'twould have made your blood to boil  
And out of your abused bodies start,  
I know it would have broken veins or heart:  
I say if you had felt that cruel sting,  
You would have fret, fumed, stamped, done any thing  
Or angry raged like madmen in their fit,  
Till merciless Revenge, had quenched it:  
But what did I? at first I must confess,  
I was a little moved, who could be less?  
But when I felt my troubled thoughts begin  
To join with brutish Passion within,  
And raise disquiet humours in my breast,  
I feared if I should yield 'twould mar my rest.  
And therefore to myself I Patience took,  
Which whilst I have about me I can brook  
Any misfortune. Then that Patience,  
Grew so much stronger through my Innocence  
That I forgot both wrong and vengeance too;  
Some think 'twas cause that I lacked Might to do  
The hurt I would; No, it was only Will  
For I had power enough to do him ill;  
●t is well known the coward dares not stand  
T' abide the Vengeance of my wronged hand  
Were his strength tripled; Nay were I in bands  
Of impotency wrapped, and had no hands,  
Yet I have friends (whom if I had not prayed  
And begged unto, to have their fury staid)  
Had chopped him, and made dogs meat for my sake  
Of his vile Carcase; yea and he would quake,  
A twelvemonth after, had he but the daring,  
To think upon the vengeance was preparing  
For that lewd slanderous tale of his; which he  
Might better raise on one unborn than me:  
Now though that course my Reason did gainsay,  
I was allowed Revenge a better way,  
Both Law add justice, proffered me a scourge,  
To whip him for it, which my friends did urge:  
Showing me motives to allure me to it:  
Yet still was I unwilling for to do it:  
For though I might (beside submission) gain,  
No little sums; my heart doth much disdain,  
For to increase my substance through his shame,  
Or raise it with the ruins of my fame:  
Now for because there's some may think I feign,  
Or speak a matter framed by mine own brain:  
Know, this backbiter lives and may do long  
To do me more, and many others wrong:  
And though I do not mind to stain my verse,  
The name of such a Monster to rehearse,  
For others satisfaction and to grace it,  
Upon the Margin here I thought to place it:  
But that perhaps would Vengeance counted be,  
Whereas it shall not be revenged for me:  
Yet Gallants you may see I wish you to  
No other thing, than I myself would do,  
You hear that I was wronged, and yet withstood  
My own mad Passion in the heat of blood:  
And am not I in as good case as those,  
That have revenged themselves with stabs & blows  
In my opinion it is as well,  
As if that I should pack his soul to hell  
With danger of mine own; and here remain,  
To grieve and wish he were alive again;  
Nay now 'tis best, for why, he may repent,  
And I with a safe conscience live content:  
there's some (perhaps) misdeemed my innocence,  
Because they saw that I with Patience  
Endured the wrong: 'tis thought that I did know,  
Myself in fault, because I took it so.  
Indeed 'tis true, I let him scotfree pass,  
What should I do unto him? say an Ass  
Had struck me with his heels; how should I qui●  
The harm he doth me? you would blame my wit  
If I should kill him; If I went to law  
Who would not count me the most ass? a daw;  
The worst of fools; I pray what were I less,  
If I had done't to his unworthiness?  
One that's more ignorant of his offence,  
And seems as if he had no spark nor sense  
Of human goodness: one, whom if I touch,  
Or offer to lay hands on, 'tis as much,  
As if I in my anger would begin  
To break the stool that erst had broke my shin.  
I knew in this, and that, the case was one,  
And therefore I did let Revenge alone:  
Yet will I note him, for this cause indeed,  
That other men may know him and take heed:  
And therefore mark, the greatest feast i'th' year  
And joyfullest his name at full doth bear.  
A sacred syllable makes the first part;  
Which since 'tis there alone, and not in's heart:  
Take it from thence with the ensuing letter,  
And the remainder will befit him better:  
Hereof enough; for why there doth remain,  
Some more of these mad humours to explain,  
Besides those I first named; for their brother,  
They cannot their Revengeful Nature smother;  
And for because they dare not deal with swords:  
Like valiant Champions fight it out with words.  
Such frays have made me oftentimes to smile,  
And yet they prove shrewd combats other while,  
For from such brawls do sudden stabs arise,  
And sometime in revenge the quartpot flies;  
joint-stools, and glasses makes a bustling rumour:  
Yea this is grown a Gentlemanlike humour:  
But in my mind, he that so well can fight,  
Deserves for to be dubbed an Alehouse knight:  
Is't not a shame that men should at their meeting,  
Welcome each other with a friendly greeting,  
As I have seen, and yet before they part,  
Bandy their swords at one another's heart?  
Wondrous inhuman, the Savage boar,  
The wild Armenean herds will do no more:  
Sure such believe not it is God hath said,  
Vengeance is his and must by him be paid.  
For if they did I think there would not be,  
Such carvers for themselves: But we may see,  
The Devil doth so much possess them than,  
They have no honest thought of God or man..  
As in this Humour you shall see't explained,  
Two falling out, would fight, but are restrained:  
Yet still they strive to be each others fall,  
Which shows their love to mankind none at all:  
But kerbed of their wills through standers by,  
Forth breaks their fury, and they strait let fly,  
Such horrid, bloody, fearful cannon oaths,  
As theirs no honest Christian ear but loathes,  
Almost to hear them named they seem to tear  
Christ's Manhood piece-meal from him when they swear  
For foot, heart, nails, still using God withal  
Their foule-mouth'd-rackets like a tennis ball  
Doth bandy too and fro: His blood and wounds,  
Set forth their vaunts they think with bravest sounds,  
And makes the simple people to admire;  
Their courage which is but as a flame on fire.  
Thrice valiant Champions whereby should one gather  
They have a thought of God that's good? but rather  
That they are vile blasphemers; for when they  
Cannot have Vengeance they desired, why,  
As if they scorned th' Almighty's fearful rod,  
Thus think they to avenge themselves on God,  
Who were he not as merciful as just,  
Might with a blast consume them into dust.   

OF CHOLER.  
SATYR. 6.  
But now the cause of men's Revengeful thirst,  
Proceeds from rash unbridled choler first:  
Which Passion flows from imbecility,  
And brings us unto much absurdity:  
Yea those that are infected with this crime,  
Are in a manner madmen for the time:  
'Tis a short Fury, wherewith man possessed  
Resembles most a wild untamed beast:  
It makes him foolish, quite besides his wit,  
Doing and speaking many a thing unfit.  
Those men in whom I find this Passion reign,  
I have oft seen to storm for things but vain,  
Yea, and as if they had some grievous cross  
Chafe out of measure for a penny loss,  
And fret as much in losing of some toy  
As if therein consisted all their joy:  
This too I noted in a Choleric man,  
(Let any one disprove me if he can)  
They are not only apt for to believe,  
Any report that may occasion give;  
But in light matters if they should contend,  
Would pick a quarrel with their dearest friend:  
Yea I have seen where friends, nay more, where brothers  
That should & have been dearer far them others:  
These I have known in choler e'en like foes.  
Mingling sharp words, with far more sharpened blows.  
When they are in their fit they do not spare,  
Any degree; No reverence, nor care  
Doth then remain; they'll speak though they be sure,  
Their heedless words, not foes alone procure,  
But lose their friends: nor do they in that case,  
Respect the Time, the company, nor place:  
Besides there is this oversight in some,  
Where Choler doth the Reason overcome:  
They do not only blame him that offends,  
But are displeased even with their friends,  
And all that are in presence or in view;  
I have observed it often to be true:  
Then if that any should but tell these men,  
Their anger were without just Reason, then,  
Although it be so and thy know it right,  
Their fury is the more increased with spite:  
They cannot brook control, nor yet can they  
Endure that a man should nothing say,  
For then indeed 'tis presently suspected,  
He cares not, and his anger is neglected:  
And in some Masters I have noted this,  
Wherein they do in my conceit amiss:  
If they but think their servant doth offend,  
He must not his suspected crime defend,  
Guilty or no; but yield it an offence  
As if men still were slaves; but surely hence,  
Springs this abuse, in whom this humour passes:  
Choler bears sway, and they are wayward Asses:  
Who though they have read some strict rules in Cat●  
Were never Scholars, to diviner Plato:  
Oh Anger is a wondrous headstrong Passion,  
That hath a beastly, frantic operation;  
From which, how can we any man release  
Since we must neither speak, nor hold our peace?  
Some will be angry, if they cannot make,  
Another their opinions for to take.  
Others have meanings but they cannot show them,  
Yet are displeased, with those that do not know  
And I have seen (that anger may be holy) them:  
A good man moved for another's folly;  
Yet in such cases let not any chafe,  
But pray (as I do) they may mend and laugh;  
methinks they should be men unfit to wield  
The sword of justice that do basely yield,  
Unto so brute a passion; yet have we  
Some Governors that overruled be  
By this, and worse affections; yea some now  
Have charge of others, that do worse know how  
To guide themselves: the angry Magistrate,  
To be avenged on him whom he doth hate,  
For private causes draws the public sword,  
And all the Rigour that the laws afford  
Must serve his Choler; such there be, so many  
You cannot miss one, though I name not any.  
Now divers do affirm such men as be  
Hasty, (so they term this infirmity)  
Are the best natured: who that lesson taught?  
If they be best I'll swear the best be nought:  
Moreover there be many do suppose,  
It is a sign of courage; what mean those?  
Where is their judgements? they me thinks should gather  
That it were weakness did produce it rather,  
Or else why should the feeble and the sick,  
Women and children be most choleric?  
Again there's some (whose judgement is as rude)  
Do think that Anger quickens fortitude:  
But that's a virtue surely will deny,  
With such a Vice to have affinity:  
Thou that hast judgement, tell me, can it be,  
That Fortitude and Anger may agree?  
I think it not, for why, the one is steady,  
And ruled by reason, other rash and heady:  
The one doth nothing but on consultation,  
The other cannot take deliberation:  
And therefore if that we be well advised,  
It is a humour ought to be despised:  
And though some thence much help may seem to gather,  
To whet on Fortitude, it hinders rather:  
Yea 'tis a strange unreasonable Passion,  
That brings the owner clean beside all fashion;  
Making him speak if ought but discontent him,  
Yea do the thing of which he shall repent him,  
And of a friend if I might chooser be:  
I'd rather have a man that's mad then he:  
Some say 'tis inflammation of the blood,  
And may with careful heed be soon withstood;  
But their's so few that seek to stop this ill,  
That most do let it run at random still:  
And very faintly yield to the invasion  
Of this wild Passion, on the least occasion,  
But he indeed that would a medicine find  
For this disease, must have a settled mind,  
Not giving credit unto all reports▪  
Nor yet delighting in vain toys, nor sports:  
On dogs, or hawks his mind must not be set,  
So much, as for their loss to chafe or fret:  
He should not fancy fuch fond idle trash,  
But ever taking heed of being rash;  
Athenodorus good advice embrace,  
And follow Cotis that wise King of Thrace,  
Whereby he best shall quench this Passions tinder,  
And many an Angry fumish fit may hinder.   

OF JEALOUSY.  
satire. 7  
But though these angry-ones soon breed a brawl  
And are pernicious to converse withal.  
Not one ●ot better is the iealous-head,  
That thinks his friend, and's wife are still abed:  
This Passion, (as it plainly doth appear)  
Proceeds out of a toomuch love with fear;  
Love in a match procures the highest bliss,  
That for us men on earth ordained is:  
But add a fear of losing of our joy,  
And that we love so dearly, 'twill destroy  
All our delights; and strewing good with ill,  
Makes that seem lost which we have with us still:  
Thus doth it often with the jealous prove,  
Who careful in the choosing of his love,  
Hath gotten her that is not fair alone;  
But modest, wise, and courteous, hating none,  
Nor yet affecting any but her peer,  
For which good parts, her husband counts her dear,  
As well he may, her virtues he'll uphold,  
Dares swear she will not be allured with gold.  
Honour, nor beauty; but as she is chaste  
So he's persuaded will be to the last;  
And to himself so well he seems to thrive,  
He thinks his own the happiest choice alive,  
'Tis good: Thus for no hurt, he wived well;  
But soft there, there is an after part to tell;  
This man when he by daily proof doth see,  
His wife no other than a wife should be,  
It so augments his Love to that extreme,  
He knows not if he be awake or dream;  
Now doth this Love (for Love will ever do it)  
For a Companion take in Fear unto it;  
A fear of losing what he loves so much;  
And then the nature of this fear is such,  
That it begets suspect; which creeping in  
Doth by a little at the first begin  
To make him doubt his spouse doth loosely live;  
Whereto upon a slight report to give  
Firm credence he seems loath; but yet ere long  
He doth (but) think perhaps she doth him wrong,  
Which if he do, that one false thought's enough,  
To give all former truths the overthrow,  
And why? Suspect grows thereupon so great,  
See thrusts true judgement, quite besides her seat:  
Which being done, then strait begins to wane,  
The good conceit he of his bliss had ta'en;  
For if his friend doth to his house repair,  
He thinks 'tis only, cause his wife is fair:  
But if't be strangers, he durst pawn his life,  
There's some compact between them & his wife:  
Yea though their business to himself he find,  
He thinks 'tis b●t a hood to keep him blind;  
Then all the sweet he had is turned to sour,  
Feign would he think well, but hath not the power;  
Much care torments his heart, and yet he will,  
Be prying farther to increase it still:  
Yea, he will seek, although he truly know,  
The more he seeks, the more he finds his woe:  
Beside, suspect receiveth in the head,  
All things that may be misinterpreted,  
And the best thought her virtue's like to win  
Is only this: It served to cloak her sin.  
In brief, his liking thus he marreth quite,  
And there he loaths where once he took delight;  
But wherefore? Only cause he doth mistrust,  
And not on any proof, that she's unjust:  
Unhappy woman haplessly to wed  
So mere a sot, and such a jealous head;  
An owle-eyed buzzard, that by day is blind,  
And sees not things apparent; yet can find  
That out which never was. The fear to lose  
The jewel he above all jemms did choose,  
That fear, I say, of wit doth so bereave him,  
He thinks that's gone which means not yet to leave him:  
Oh foolish man, that having gained a bliss,  
Dost make't a curse by using it amiss,  
If judgement be not blinded in thee? look;  
Try if thou hast not all this while mistook:  
Is not thy wife still fair? and to the eye  
Seems she not yet to have that modesty,  
Thou didst commend her for? Is she not wary  
With whom she walks, or speaks, or where to tarry?  
Is she not still as willing for to please;  
As loving toe, as in her former days?  
In show he sees it, but he thinks 'tis feigned,  
Out blockish dolt that art most justly pained:  
Thou but a few supposed shadows haste,  
That makes thee to account thy wife unchaste,  
But many firm substantial proofs make clear,  
That she's unstained, and aught to be as dear  
As e'er she was; Why should an ill in thee  
Make her seem so, unless she evil be?  
A woman that is fair, shall much be viewed,  
And have perhaps unlooked for favours show'd,  
She shall be courted where she will or no,  
Nay be resorted to; and though she show  
Scarcely so much as common courtesies  
She shallbe censured by misjudging eyes,  
And false reports will fly; But what of this?  
Shall he that hath had trial what she is,  
And ne'er saw aught amiss, shall he, I say,  
Cast all the good conceit he had away;  
And straight grow jealous, trusting the surmise  
Of the lewd vulgar more than his own eyes?  
It were mad folly; and yet I do know  
Some that are thus besotted, more's their woe.  
And pity 'twere but they had horned him,  
Were't not a greater pity so to sin:  
Should you but sit with such a one at table,  
To hold from laughter you were scarcely able,  
To see what note the jealous wood-cock-takes,  
Of his wives words, and every look she makes,  
In what a fear he eats his meat, and drinks:  
What signs he uses, how he nods and winks,  
With twenty scurvy gestures; though he see  
No reason he should so suspicious be:  
Now some have cause enough, but that's all one;  
Why should men strive to hold what will be gone,  
Vexing themselves so for another's ill,  
Which they can never help? Let him that will:  
But this is true, to seek for to restrain  
A woman's will, is labour spent in vain;  
And he that tries to do it, might have been,  
One of the crew that bedged the Cuckoo in.  
Why should a man go put himself to pain,  
As some have done, a journey for to feign?  
And then at night come lurk about his house,  
Where, be it but the stirring of a mouse  
He doth observe it: wherefore doth he so?  
Since if thereby he ought n/a doth know,  
The greatest good that he shall thereby find,  
Is more vexation to molest his mind:  
For then the mischief he but feared before,  
he's certain of, and need not doubt it more:  
A goodly meed, but sure those wretched elves,  
Take pleasure in tormenting of themselves;  
They hearken, watch, set spies, and always long  
To hear some tales or inkling of their wrong:  
And he that can but whisper some such fable,  
Shall be the welcomest guest that sits at table,  
Though it be ne'er so false; they love so well  
To feel the Torture of this earthly hell:  
But I do muse what devil keeps their heart,  
They should affect the causers of their smart;  
Those ever-buzzing-deadly-stinging flies;  
Those that of Echoes only can devise  
A formal Lie. What if't be true they say?  
It is a means to draw thy love away  
From her thou ow'st it to; and that's a crime,  
'Cause she must be thy best beloved a time,  
Better or worse, be sure thou must abide her,  
Till from thy self the death of one divide her:  
Then tell me were it not by much less pain;  
A good opinion of her to retain?  
Couldst thou not be contented by thy will,  
At least to think that she were honest still?  
Yes sure in heart thou wouldst be glad,  
Unless that thou were't void of sense, or mad:  
Why shake off all these clawbacks than that use  
Thy soone-beleeving-heart for to abuse;  
For (trust me) they, are but some spiteful elves,  
Who cause they have not the like bliss themselves  
Would fain mar thine; or else I dare be bold,  
If thou the truth couldst warily unfold,  
They are some lust-stung Villains, that did court  
Thy honest wife to some unlawful sport:  
And finding her too-chast to serve their turn,  
Whose evil hearts with foul desires did burn,  
To spite her (being far more evil doers,  
Then daniel's elder, fair susanna's wooers)  
To thee they do accuse her of an ill,  
Whereto they sought for to allure her will:  
Nay, this I wish thee whatsoe'er he be,  
That of such dealings first informeth thee;  
Believe him not what proofs so ere he bring.  
Do not give ear to him for any thing:  
And though he be the nearest friend thou hast,  
From such like knowledge shut all sense up fast;  
Fly and avoid him as thou wouldst the Devil,  
Or one that brings thee messages of evil:  
Let him be to thee as thy deadliest foe,  
A fury, or some one thou loathe'st to know;  
And be assured what soe'er he shows,  
He is no friend of thine that brings that news,  
So if that thou wert his most deadly foe,  
For any wrong i● were revenge enough.  
Now some men I have noted love as well,  
The husband's faults unto the wife to tell,  
And aggravate them to: as if thereby  
They either meant to feed their jealousy,  
Or else stir up their unbeseeming hates,  
Against their guiltless well-beloved mates:  
But of these monsters (fairest sex) beware  
Of their insinuations have a care:  
Believe them not they will coin tales untrue,  
To sow foul strife betwixt your loves and you  
Out of ill-will: or else here is my doom,  
They hope to get into your husband's room  
By the advantage of the discontent  
They'll work in you, But their intent  
They'll so disguise, that you shall never spy them▪  
Till you are snared too fast for to deny them:  
But oh you Creatures that for excellence,  
Have reasonable for a difference,  
Avoid this passion; If your wives be ill,  
Advise them well, but let them have their will,  
For curbing makes them worse, and their condition  
Indeed is such they cannot brook suspicion;  
Restrain them not I say, for as the powder,  
Being fast stopped makes the report the louder,  
Sending the bullet with the greatest force,  
So he ●at seeks to bar a woman's course,  
Makes her more eager, and can ne'er out-strive her,  
But on she will because the Devil doth drive her.  
Let those that are so matched then patience take,  
And there are none shall know their heads do ache,  
But beware chiefly that no false surmises,  
Or flying tale some envious head devices,  
Make them to wrong their chaste and modest wives,  
Who have with virtue led unspotted lives,  
For though some stand unmoved for that's the way,  
To make a woman soon go astray:  
But now I think on't, I do wonder why,  
The greatest part brand him with infamy,  
That is a Cuckold? Since that all men know,  
It is not his offence that he is so,  
I never heard a reason for't it'h Schools,  
Yet sure 'tis this, the greatest part are fools:  
But now I will conclude these I ealous humours,  
Which part I found b'experience, part by rumours;  
I feel it not, yet know it is a smart  
That plagues the mind and gripes the very heart,  
Yet I could wish but for the others sake,  
Their thought-tormenting-paine might never slake;  
For there's none jealous, I durst pawn my li●e,  
But he that hath defiled another's wife.   

OF COVETOUSNESS.  
SATYR. 8.  
But of that Passion how missed I to tell,  
The same that brings her Pedigree from hell?  
Called Avarice, a humour vile and base,  
And yet as common as to have a face:  
I muse it scap't, I say, since I'll be plain,  
I look not up but see where it doth reign;  
Many I know, and yet indeed but few,  
That can this slavish dunghill-vice eschew;  
I neither can excuse sex nor degree,  
Young folks, nor such as middleaged be:  
Nay I perceive them given most to crave,  
When they had need to dig themselves a grave,  
Like earthbred moles they scramble in the dust,  
Not for the treasure that shall never rust;  
But for vile cankered dross is all their care,  
As if the same their summum bonum were.  
When all that they have with their labour bought  
In my opinion is not worth a thought:  
I have known Chuffs, that having well to live,  
Yea and sufficient for to lend and give:  
Will naith'less toil, moil, and take more pain,  
Then a jews bondslave, or a M●●re in Spain;  
All day they brook the rain, hail, frost and snow,  
And then as if they had not drudged enough,  
They lie and think all night with care & sorrow,  
How they may take as little rest the morrow.  
'Tis strange their minds so much for gold should itch  
And being gotten that it should bewitch;  
It is by nature in a prison penned,  
Under our feet i'th' basest element:  
And shall we plucked from dungeons, filth, and mire  
To give 't the chiefest seat in our desire?  
'Twere want of judgement, but brave spirits know  
'tis base, and therefore do account it so.  
I have heard those say that travel to the East,  
Where this beloved metal hath its nest,  
That in those places where such minerals be  
Is neither grass, nor herb, nor plant, nor tree;  
A cursed soil; and this at home I find,  
That those which toomuch do employ their mind  
About that trash; their hearts are (I'll be bold)  
As barren as the earth where men dig gold.  
This humour hath no bounds, 'tis a desire,  
(Or disease rather) nothing can expire;  
'Tis hell, for had it all the world, yet,  
It longs as much as if't had ne'er a whit;  
A boundless gulf: and I lament their pain  
Who have this never-quenched thirst of gain;  
So bottomless a whirlpool that receives  
Still, yet the self-same room still empty leaves;  
he's mad that food to such a Vulture gives  
That's never full; and e'en as good fill sives  
That have no bottom, as for to endeavour,  
To glut a Monster that will hunger ever:  
Yet men still strive although it be in vain;  
And though they feel their longing still remain,  
They'll weary out themselves like him that drinks  
Brine, or salt water, and still thereby thinks  
To slack his thirst at last; though he feel't more  
Augmented, at each draft than 'twas before:  
Yea, wealth doth as much lessen this desire  
Of Avarice in men, as flames of fire  
Allay the heat: beside, though they have store,  
This makes them to themselves exceeding poor;  
And howsoever they may seem, yet such  
Until their dying-day are never rich▪  
They very seldom have respect or care  
To promise, or Religion; they'll not spare  
To wrong their neighbour, friend, or God himself,  
Thereby for to increase their cursed pelf:  
They neither reverence the right of laws,  
Nor are they touched with the poor-man's cause:  
They would be well content to shed their bloods,  
Loose Soul and Heaven, for to save their goods:  
To talk to them of better things 'twere vain,  
For they are only capable of gain;  
They never live in true society,  
Nor know they friendship, love, or piety;  
And in a word, those that are thereby led,  
Never do good till they are sick or dead.  
And therefore with these vermin I will place them▪  
That serve to no use till that we uncase them▪  
I have observed ' that such men's children be,  
Borne many times to greatest misery;  
For they have neither means nor education,  
According to their Kindred, State nor Nation:  
Whereby we see that they do often run,  
Into vild actions and are quite undone;  
So then, these grieve to hear they do amiss,  
But near consider that their fault it is;  
'Tis greediness that makes a man a slave,  
To that which he should for his servant have,  
And teaches him for to esteem of more,  
The vicioius-Ritchman, than the honest poor,  
Alas! how many are there I could name,  
Injurious villains; that for to defame,  
Or wrong another would forswear salvation,  
As if they thought that there were no damnation?  
Provided that when they their conscience strain,  
It be out of a hatred or for gain:  
Yea there be idle thieving rogues a many,  
That have no Virtue, nor will near have any:  
Yet for their wealth shall highly be respected,  
When honest men their beetters, are neglected,  
And then●we also see that most men do,  
Put many worthy titles on them toe,  
That such base scummes must oft entreated be,  
With good your Worship, and with cap and knee:  
But sure the world is now become a gull,  
To think such scoundrels can be worshipful;  
And yet in these days, if that men have riches,  
Though they be hangmen, Usurers or witches,  
Divels-incarnate, such as have no shame,  
To act the thing that I should blush to name,  
Doth that disgrace them any whit? Fie no,  
The world it means not for to use them so;  
There is no shame for Ritchmen in these times,  
For wealth will serve to cover any crimes:  
Wert thou a crooke-back-dwarfe, deformed in shape;  
Thersites like, conditioned like an ape:  
Didst never do a deed a goodman ought,  
Nor spoke true word, nor hadst an honest thought,  
If thou be rich, and hap to disagree  
With one that's poor; although indeed he be  
In every part a man and hath a Spirit  
That's truly noble, able for to merit  
Even praise of Envy; yet if thou wilt seem  
A man far worthier and of more esteem,  
Although thou canst invent no means to blame him  
Yet I can tell a trick how thou shalt shame him,  
And that's but this, Report that he is poor,  
And there's no way for to disgrace him more;  
For so this Passion doth men's judgement blind,  
That him in whom they most perfection find,  
If that he be not rich they count him base,  
And oft he's feign to give a Villain place.  
Moreover the desire to gain this pelf,  
Makes many a brave man to forget himself:  
Some I have known that for their worthy parts,  
Their virtue and their skill in many Arts,  
Deserved honour; and (if any can  
judge by the outward look, the inward man)  
For to command men they me thought were born▪  
And seemed a slavish servitude to scorn;  
Yet have I seen when such as these (alas!)  
In hope of gain have crouched unto an Ass,  
Observed a Dolt, and much debased their merits,  
To men of vulgar and ignoble spirits;  
How many of our finest wits have spent,  
Their times and studies in mere complement?  
Greasing with praises many a fat-fed Boar,  
Of whom the world thought too too well before:  
How many now that followed Mars his troup  
Whom force of death could never make to stoop?  
Nay more, how many of our grave Divines  
That should seek treasure not in earthly mines,  
What store I say of these, against the hair,  
(As goes the common proverb) can speak fair,  
Flatter for gain, and humour such base grooms,  
As are not worthy of their horse-boys rooms?  
They wrong themselves, but those are counted wise  
That now a days know how to temporize:  
I cannot brook dissembling: and I vow,  
ere I to any golden calf would bow,  
Flatter against my conscience, or else smother  
That which I know for truth, to please another,  
ere I for gain would faun to please a clown,  
Or feed great fools with tales of the renown  
Of their reputed fathers, when (God mend them)  
Themselves have nothing why we should commend them,  
And ere I'll coin a lie, be't ne'er so small,  
For e'er a bragging Thraso of them all  
In hope of profit; I'll give up my play,  
And fall to labour for a groat a day;  
And for my clothing in a mantle go,  
And feed on Sham-roots, as the Irish do;  
For, what contentment can in riches be,  
Unless the body and the mind be free?  
But tush what's freedom? look where gold bears sway,  
It takes That Credit, yea and Wit away;  
Corrupts the judgement, and can make the laws  
Oft-times to favour an ungodly cause:  
Besides, a worldly mind doth so affect,  
Where wealth abounds, & bears so much respect  
To those that have it: that their vice they deem  
To be a virtue, and so make it seem;  
For, say they use extortion, no men more,  
Undo their Country, hurt and wrong the poor,  
Be damned Usurers, and keep a house,  
That yields not crumbs enough to feed a mouse:  
Yet they'll not say he's covetous; oh no,  
he's thrifty, a good wary man, or so.  
Another though in pride he do excel,  
Be more ambitious than the Prince of hell;  
If his apparel be in part like us,  
Italian, Spanish, French and Barbarous,  
Although it be of twenty several fashions,  
All borrowed from as many foreign nations;  
Yet he's not vain, nor proud; what is he than?  
Marry a proper, fine, neat Gentleman,  
Or if he be a drunkard that can swagger,  
Go daily armed with an alehouse dagger,  
Quaff soule-sick-healths until his eyes do stare,  
Sing bawdy Songs, and rounds, and curse and swear;  
Though he use gaming, as the cards and dice,  
So out of measure that he make't a vice,  
Turn his own house into a filthy stews,  
Keep whores, and knaves, and bawds, as that's no news  
Yet if he be a rich man what is he,  
A rude rank ruffian if you ask of me,  
A Ruffian? Guep jack sauce-boxe with a wannion,  
Nay he's a merry and a boon companion,  
This is the World's censure. Yet beside,  
Another quality I have espied;  
For those diseases they do shun the poor,  
They do abhor a Richman ne'er the more:  
Him I have known that hath disdained to sup  
Water, or beer, out of a poor man's cup,  
For fear of poisoning, or some thing as bad,  
Although he knew no malady he had;  
And yet have I, seen the same curious Ass,  
Pledging a richman in the self-same glass:  
When he hath known the party (if you please  
I'll speakeplaine English) had the French disease:  
But as the Proverb saith, Birds of a feather  
Will always use to flock and feed together:  
I have oft mused and do still admire,  
That men should hurtful riches so desire,  
For weigh it well and you shall find it fills,  
The owner of it with a thousand ill's,  
Much worse than these forenamed: for why we find,  
It chokes and mar's the Virtues of the mind:  
Then we perceive it greatly doth annoy,  
Vexes the heart, and hinders the true joy  
Would else be there; And as it may appear,  
Loads us with divers troubles, cares and fear:  
It makes us to grow arrogant, unjust,  
Draws unto pleasure, and provokes to lust:  
More hopeful for to practise villainy,  
Then for to further us in honesty,  
It near contents the owners that enjoy it,  
And those that have it many times employ it  
To corrupt justice; or for to allure,  
Matrons, or Virgins, to an act impure:  
It hires murders, and makes men seditious,  
Full of suspect, and envy, or ambitious:  
Yea it breeds clawbacks, pickthanks, flattery,  
Makes many thieves and causes perjury:  
It hinders knowledge, for most that have lands,  
Live neither by their wisdom nor their hands.  
They follow sloth and pleasure, not the schools,  
And that's the reason there's such wealthy fools:  
These are the fruits of wealth; yet that alone  
Seems now the fairest mark of every one  
To make his course for; and which to attain,  
Or keep once gotten, we refuse no pain  
Labour nor danger; yet it doth appear,  
They think that all, which they were placed for here:  
Now there's a Counterpassion unto this,  
Which to speak something of 'twere not amiss:  
Those, subject thereunto, have got a fashion,  
That's quite contrary to the former Passion.  
Fore'ne as greedy men are set on fire,  
With an unquenched and a soul desire,  
Of hoarding Riches (God in heaven amend them)  
So do the other high as fast to spend them:  
Their 〈◊〉 divers; some vainglorious Asses.  
Consu●n't in gaudy clothes; and looking glasses;  
Others blown up e'en with the self same bellows  
Seek to obtain the love of all good fellows;  
These at the Althouse have their daily pots  
Though they be there or no. And look what shots,  
Are in their chambers spent, be't near so many,  
He doth them wrong that thinks to pay a penny;  
These feast at Taverns their supposed friends,  
That pay with, Thanks, we near shall make 〈◊〉:  
Yea, and in more things they have lavish been,  
But those are paths I'uc no experience in,  
Yet such as they ere many years be past,  
Will wish (I warrant) they had held it fast,  
When for their kindness and their former cheer,  
They hardly shall procure a cup of bear.  
But there must needs be some men prone there to,  
Or how a devil shall our sharker do?  
Yet can I not say rightly that these be,  
From Avarice and greediness quite free:  
For though they do consume it knavishly,  
And spend it on vain pleasures lavishly,  
They gladly would their evil course maintain,  
And therefore overslip no means of gain,  
For they have used (by their own confession)  
Secret and open Robberies; Oppression,  
And divers tricks which show this spending vice,  
May have some reference to Avarice.  
Others there are, (but few) who having store,  
Neglect their wealth, and rather would be poor;  
And why? it stops the way to heaven they say;  
Sure being misemployed so it may:  
And therefore rather than they should abuse it,  
'Twere good they had it that know how to use it:  
For such are lightly weak in resolution,  
And men but of a simple constitution,  
Or are by some seducing Villain taught,  
That their goods (rather than their good) have sought:  
Now I suppose the man that well obtains  
His wealth, and in an honest calling gains,  
More wisdom shows in using it aright,  
Then such a Cynnick as contemns in quite.  
Men will be in extremes; but sure the less,  
Is to neglect wealth, for much greediness,  
Makes not the body only, lean and foul,  
But also spreads infection to his soul,  
And clogs her so with things of no account,  
That she is over-pois'd to much, to mount.  
But those that for to go astray are loath,  
Use their endeavours to avoid them both.   

OF AMBITION.  
SATYR. 9  
HEre's yet another called Ambition,  
Little with men of low condition,  
But 'tis a humour which doth ever search,  
The stout-high-minded, and doth always perch  
In men of spirit. This doth far surmount,  
The force of Love; It maketh no account  
Of Nature, nor Religion; 'tis not Law,  
Nor Conscience, that can keep such men in awe;  
there's no estate contents them; peace and strife  
Are both alike to them; yea death and life:  
Wives, children, friends, nor none but such as may▪  
Be unto their Ambitious plots a stay,  
Shall be respected; and so they may reap,  
What they desire, they'll not stick to heap  
Murder on Murders; yea and think't no sin,  
Be it of strangers, or their nearest kin:  
They have such flinty breasts they can out-beard,  
Danger itself, and be no whit afeard;  
Proud daring Spirits; yet we see, confusion,  
Of such high minds doth prove the sad couclusion:  
And he that first was ruined by this evil,  
Was our grand foe which we do call the Devil:  
For he aspired so high, that higher powers,  
Wrought his just fall, and now he seeketh ours;  
He first infused this ill into our breast,  
For to disquiet and disturb our rest.  
This most unreasonable, strong desire;  
This too excessive longing to aspire  
To honour and promotion; which indeed  
Doth from a sottish ignorance proceed;  
It is the wild'st and most disorderd'st passion,  
And a great enemy to contentation,  
For whatsoever state man hath attained  
'tis e ' ne as if that he had nothing gained;  
For he hath hereby still a farther I cope,  
And never reaches to the end of's hope;  
That which he doth possess he near respecteth,  
But altogether things unknown affecteth,  
And counts them best; which whatsoe'er they  
Being once gotten too, are not esteemed:  
But what's the reason that they do abhor, sseemed,  
The things possessed that they have laboured for?  
What is the cause I say they do contemn,  
(Or cannot use) things having gained them?  
Sure hence it doth proceed; they do not know  
What the things are that they do long for so.  
And they obtain them oft, ere they have might,  
And Reason fit to govern them aright:  
Had many of our reaching Yeomanry,  
That have grown wealthy through good husbandry,  
And some of our proud Gentry, that have sought  
Titles, and undeserved Honours bought;  
Had they, I say, beforehand known the shame,  
And beggary that followed on the same,  
For want to knowing where to they aspired  
They would not have those Dignities desired,  
And so indeed they might have walked the street,  
And not have feared the Counters nor the Fleet:  
Yea and with Goodman have contented been,  
Where now there's scarce a good man of the kin.  
Ambitious men will ever envious be;  
Regarding neither love nor amity,  
And though that they may make a goodly show,  
With reason it can never stand I know,  
They should be faithful, or with justice deal,  
Either for Princes or for Commonweal:  
For why this humour makes them to attend,  
And all their labours and best counsels spend,  
In their own plots; And so they have no loss,  
They care not whose proceedings they do cross;  
Virtuous endeavours this doth also let,  
Yea makes men many a good thing to forget:  
And though I'm loath to speak it I protest  
I think it reigns not in the Clergy least,  
For they at first show great humility,  
While that they are of mean ability:  
they'll be industrious and take pain to teach,  
For twice a week shall be the least they'll preach:  
Or in their poverty they will not stick  
For Catechizing, viziting the sick,  
And such like duteous works of Piety,  
As do belong to their society:  
But if that they can reach a Vicarage,  
Or be inducted to some Parsovage:  
Men must content themselves and think it well,  
If once a year they hear the Sermon bell:  
Now if it be a Deanery or so,  
If not in twelve months it is oft enough,  
And why? Alas consider that Devotion,  
Is but a busy thing that lets Promotion,  
And if that they should give their minds to't all  
Who should have their great places when they fall?  
No, no, 'twere fitter they their ease did take,  
And see what friends and Patrons they can make  
For the next Hierarchy; or learn how  
To humour and to please the Great-ones now;  
But, if that they in that adventure speed,  
they'll be more painful; yes, 'tis like indeed:  
If they get into their formalibus,  
And reverent Pontificalibus;  
'Tis very like I say that we shall hear,  
They use the Pulpit once in twice a year:  
Nay and 'tis well if it be done so oft,  
For this Ambition bears men so aloft,  
They soon forget their duties: and this pride  
I in the Clergy worst of all abide,  
In them I hold it the most odious,  
And no Ambition so pernicious,  
Eeither for prince, or Church, or common good,  
Witness the beast of Rome and his fou'e broo●  
Of climbing Cardinals, who from base states,  
Are gotten to be Kings and Princes mates,  
Yea their superiors. This the devil makes,  
His chiefest engine where withal he shakes  
Religion's soundness; And rends in it chinks,  
Which he daubs up again with what he thinks  
Shall ruined all in time; was it not hence,  
He had his means to mar the innocence  
Of Rome's first Bishops? yes, the Church grew strong  
And flourished while it was suppressed with wrong,  
But when the worthy Emperors embraced  
The Sacred Truth; and with their favours graced  
Their good proceedings; They than 'gan to leave  
Their humble Nature off: and closely weave,  
Under a Religious show (not a bare Mitre  
It fits not the successors of Saint Peter)  
A triple Diadem; and such a state,  
That never any earthly Potentate  
Enjoyed the like (yet all with humble preaching)  
A long degree I take't, beyond the reaching  
Of temporal Ambition. But I pray  
Ere the first Beast his time be done away,  
There rise not up another monster here  
Amongst our Ambitious Churchmen; I should fear  
A second Antichrist, but that I hope  
They either shall be kept within their scope,  
Or the last judgement, whose nigh times unknown,  
Shall cut him off e'er he be wholly grown:  
But more of these I here omit to speak,  
Because, I think there's no man's sight so weak,  
But see's their doings; yet let none suppose,  
〈◊〉 hear mean to defend, or maintain those  
That do our Bishop's Callings disallow.  
Let them that can● for sure I know not how:  
Nor would I have the world to understand,  
That I tax all the Clergy in the land:  
Or the whole Hierarchy: Think not so;  
For why; this present age doth yield, I know,  
Men that are truly worthy; I hope many,  
Yea I am sure few times, since Christ, had any  
More knowing or more painful than some few,  
And whatsoe'er men think, yet for to show,  
Though I Satirically carp at those  
That follow Vice and are true Virtues foes,  
I have not such a spiteful cankered spirit,  
As to conceal and smother Worth and Merit:  
For I'll for Canterbury's Grace be bold,  
Out of mine own experience to uphold,  
That Sea was never governed as yet,  
By any one more reverent or more fit:  
For over and above his Country cares,  
Wherein he neither time nor counsel spares,  
Besides Church business whereto he applies  
His mind to further it, what in him lies;  
I say beside this public care at large,  
Few Ministers have, in their private charge,  
Shown greater pain: that here the truth I tell,  
London and Lambeth both can witness well,  
And thou wert unhappy London then,  
When thou didst lose this rare One among men;  
Yet thou wert blest again, thy fate did bring,  
In place of such a FATHER such a KING,  
A main Chruch-piller, and of so great worth,  
Europe can hardly bring his equal forth:  
And for them both my Muse will this put down,  
(Who scorns to soothe a King to get a Crown)  
Had she not thought them to be what she says,  
She would have here disdained to sing their praise:  
But to go foreword, I do wonder why,  
Men should be subject to this Vanity  
For I have seen those that had riches store,  
Great offices, and favours, no men more,  
Honour and credit, yea and wisdom to,  
Yet see what an ambitious head will do:  
Climbing to high they got so low a fall,  
They forfeited their honours, lives and all.  
Me thinks ere they in such an act should stur,  
'twere noed amiss to think on Aesop's Cur,  
Who catching but to get a shadow more,  
Did lose the substance that he had before:  
I might a while upon example stand,  
Of former times; but that within this land,  
The present Age, the which I only view,  
Can yield enough to prove my saying true:  
And of so many in this Kingdom shown,  
I mean at this time to produce but one:  
And that shall be the late Ambitious plot,  
The like whereof the world sure yieldeth not,  
I mean the powder treason, and intention,  
Brought (had not God assisted) past prevention:  
Yet see ere they could climb to their desire,  
When they were for to mount but one step-higher  
(Let God be honoured for't) down tumbled all,  
And gave these helhounds a deserved fall:  
As often as I call to memory,  
That horrid and detested villainy,  
It makes me sorry such a hellish plot,  
Should scape unblased to be so soon forgot;  
But some good wit ere long I do not doubt,  
Will undertake to paint that action out;  
And in it own true sable colour show it,  
That children that are yet unborn may know it:  
And to make plain that ruin and perdition,  
Are the last Periods to conclude Ambition:  
But to that purpose they may labour spend,  
And per adventure all to little end:  
They will not think thereon, for we may see,  
How lofty-minded still there's many be,  
With what desires of titles they have sought them  
And at how dear a reckoning they have bought them:  
But that with other flows from Vanity,  
A part essential in humanity,  
Which (if God grant me leave) I mean to chase,  
But must refer it to another place:  
Some have ambitious heads, but cannot rise,  
Because the want of means and friends denies  
What they aspire unto: but such are vexed,  
Their mind I know is troubled and perplexed  
Beyond all reason; Oh strange humoured men,  
Your folly you will leave I think, but when?  
Be with your states Content, for do you know  
Weather you wish be for your good or no?  
Oyes thinks one; if I could once attain,  
Such offices; or so much wealth to gain  
As this or that man hath; my wish were ended,  
And such or such a fault should be amended:  
But this I say, though they may think it strange,  
With the estate the mind doth also change,  
And when in one thing thou hast thy desire,  
Thou canst not stay there but must mount up higher  
And higher still, until thou dost attain,  
Unto the top or tumble down again:  
Be warned than you that Ambitious are,  
And for to curb your passion have a care:  
Else at the length, 'twil certainly deceive you,  
But you will have your wills to which I leave you.   

OF FEAR.  
SATYR. 10.  
SOft now; what Pasions this that follows next?  
Surely I think he's with a fever vexed,  
He shakes and looks so pale; O me, 'tis fear!  
I'll make his humours also to appear,  
Since I have found him. This is he that mar's,  
All our delight on earth: 'tis he that bars  
Man the right use of pleasure. And 'tis he,  
That was at first ordained our plague to be,  
Avoid him you that love and look for rest,  
Let a true courage banish him your breast:  
For this makes not your bodies only numb,  
Tremblingly cold, deformed, and pale become.  
But 'tis a passion ugly, grim, and foul,  
That doth with grief e'en clog the very foul:  
And comes (if that I fail not in my skill)  
Out of a false opinion of some ill,  
That's present or to come; It inly stings,  
And also for companions it brings  
Both pain and shame; and divers have I seen,  
That with this fever have sore shaken been;  
Two but of late whose fear so foolish proved,  
Many thereby were unto laughter moved,  
One came in puffing almost out of breath,  
As if he hardly had escaped death,  
And why? Alas! he thought a whited post,  
He on a sudden saw had been a Ghost:  
And that surmise did such impression take,  
That though he after saw 'twas but a stake,  
If yet he do but come that way benighted,  
He is e'en with the very place affrighted:  
Th'other came running like a man that's mad,  
Oh! he had seen the Devil that he had,  
Where in an old house fitting on a block,  
We looked and there we found a turkey-cock:  
Thus many fear where cause of fear is none,  
And make themselves a jest for every one;  
Yea fear hath made a number so afraid,  
That they have oft their dearest friends betrayed:  
For this cause only I do near intend,  
To choose a coward for to be my friend,  
And if that women be not grown so coy,  
To scorn to take advisement of a boy,  
Let them not choose a coward to their mate,  
Lest they repent it as one did of late:  
For not far off there dwelled not long ago  
(I'll tell a tale that many yet do know:)  
A Gentlewoman not of meanest rank,  
Whose favour might have well deserved thank,  
For that in face and dowry few did match her,  
Many a gallant tried his wits to catch her:  
Who being kept but narrowly at home,  
So she were gone she cared not much with whom;  
Now see Dame fortune that will seldom part,  
Her favours unto men of good desert,  
Brings to the house a fellow that in show,  
Seemed worthy of the prize, but was not so;  
Yet having opportunity he tries,  
Gets her goodwill and with her thence he flies;  
But lo, the Parents quickly missed their daughter,  
Raised all the town, and following hardly after.  
Were by mere chance into an old houseled,  
Where this young couple were new gone to bed:  
You that have ever in that pickle been,  
judge what a case these naked folks were in.  
But what did he? there leaves his new stolen prey,  
And like a fearful Coward slunk away.  
Out on such Asses; how could he for shame,  
So leave a woman to bear all the blame?  
And for the grief s●e suffers with her friends,  
How can the villain make the whore amends?  
I know not: but for playing such a part,  
'Tis certain be hath turned the wenches heart,  
And she for climbing to a Coward's bed,  
Hath lost her credit with her maidenhead.  
Such was th' effect of fear. And more, from thence  
Proceedeth cruelty, impatience,  
Breach of our promise, with much envying  
Together with the hateful vice of lying;  
Murders and treasons toe; there's nought so base,  
So full of villainy, shame or disgrace,  
The fearful would not act with all his heart,  
To free himself from fear of death or smart:  
Yea some would be contented very well,  
So they might scape Death, to go quick to hell  
Such is their nature; I myself have seen,  
Fear bring those evils that had else not been:  
As it hath brought the plague on some. Beside,  
There's many a one for fear of death hath died:  
And there be divers have so careful been,  
To rid themselves from fears which they were in;  
That as the ship that doth Charybdis shun,  
They ran on Sylla and were quite undone;  
And why? alas it is the Coward's error:  
To think the present danger ful'st of terror:  
The fear of evil more tormenteth some,  
Then doth the thing they feared when once 'tis come  
Men dread what is; what willbe; and alas!  
Many a thing that near shall come to pass;  
If they did only fear apparent things,  
That likelihood of terror with it brings,  
As troops of enemies, or thieves, or treason,  
Pirates or storms at sea; there were some reason  
Or colour for it then, but they will quake,  
At fictions; at mere nothings; their hearts ache  
At their own fancies: Superstitious,  
At tales of Fairies, and of Visions,  
Yea I have seen some heavy and full sad,  
Because of a poor foolish dream they had:  
Oh what means man that having mischiefs store  
Must in his own conceit needs make them more?  
Thinks he those will not grim enough appear,  
Unless he apprehend them first by fear?  
Sure 'tis a plague the Devil did invent,  
To work in man a lasting discontent:  
And taught it Adam, when reuppon he said,  
I saw my nakedness and was afraid:  
This is our fault; but yet I cannot see,  
A reason why men should so fearful be:  
May they not joy and be as merry still;  
With hope of good, as sad with fear of ill?  
Sure I think yes; and will on hope so feed,  
No ill shall fear me till 'tis come indeed,  
For that which likeliest seems for to betide me,  
God in his mercy yet may put beside me.  
And though much proof hath bred with in my breast,  
This resolution, yet of all the rest,  
This last confirmed it most, for th' other day,  
When the hard frost had stopped the Sculler's way,  
And that the flowing Thames with ice was arched  
So that the people over on it marched,  
Amongst the rest one bolder than was fit,  
wandering beside the path for want of wit:  
Stepped on a piece of ice which with a crack,  
Rend from the main, and stopped his going back:  
The icy fragment ('twas a heavy token)  
Swum to the bridge where all the ice was broken,  
The people looked and he for aid did crave,  
But oh! there was no power in them to save;  
Which soon conceiving on his knees he fell,  
(I from the bridge perceived him very well)  
And lifting up his hands his aid implores  
That saved old jonas without sails or oars;  
And see God's mercy when he drew so near,  
No hope of safeguard seemed to appear  
And when that he had three times whirled been,  
And that the Arch was like to suck him in:  
Beyond our expectation (in a trice)  
There thrusts between a greater piece of ice,  
Which coming down as if it scorned to stay,  
Beat by the lesser for to give it way,  
And a while stayed it; but he had been fain,  
When that was gone to take his turn again,  
Had not, next God, the people stood his friend,  
And saved him by a rope that's some man's end:  
So this proves, men may scape a mischief now;  
When 'tis so near them, they perceive not how,  
And I do hope this argument is clear,  
That we have as much cause to hope as fear;  
More trembling humours I might here unfold,  
Which, some will be unwilling to be told,  
And therefore pass them; but I do protest,  
This hurtful monster I so much detest,  
That I am very loath for to omit,  
Any occasion of disgracing it:  
Yet do I not allow their resolution,  
That merely of a hellish constitution,  
Have such obdurate hearts so hard in evil,  
They neither seem afraid of God nor Devil.  
Such I have noted to, but truly they,  
Are in as bad, but a contrary way.  
They prate and swear as if they could affright,  
And make Hobgoblin run away by night,  
When questionless as bold as they appear,  
They are perplexed with an inward fear;  
Yea I have known a trifle or a blast,  
Hath made such Champions oftentimes aghast.  
There is a fear that's good, and hinders sin,  
Indeed that, every good man should be in,  
And there's a fear that keeps a kingdoms state,  
From ruin, if it be not ta'en to late;  
'tis not a slavish terror, that's a crime,  
No rather 'tis a wise foresight in time:  
That makes men very heedful to forethink  
Danger to come, and not as we do, wink  
At our own nakedness; as without care,  
Who spies it, so we see not ourselves bare.  
This fear it is that makes men to provide  
Against a storm they may the better bide  
The fury of it; this 'tis keeps off wrong,  
And makes a City or a Kingdom strong,  
And I much doubt the wanting of these fears,  
Will make us smart for't yet ere many years,  
For since we are become a pretty number,  
Although we can but one another cumber,  
Or serve to make a Hubbub, we suppose,  
There are no nations dare to be our foes,  
We think a wondrous policy we show,  
If once in four years we do take a view,  
Or count the number of our able men,  
Flattering ourselves there with; as if that then;  
(Having so great and huge a multitude,  
Though we were near so inexpert and rude)  
There were no cause of fear: but a realms might  
Consists not in the number that must fight,  
More in their skill, for of good soldiers ten,  
Will foil a hundred unexperienced men,  
Such as we are: For, 'tis a shame to speak,  
How wonderful unfitty and how weak,  
This ignorance makes most of us, except  
Whom brave South-hamptons government hath kept  
In warlike order; I do mean indeed  
Our Hampshire Islanders, of whom for need  
A hundred boys that near had hair on chin,  
Shall from five hundred of up-landish win  
Both field and Town: By which it may appear  
Good government with profitable fear  
Within a few short years so well will thrive,  
One shall become to have the odds of five:  
These therefore that have wisdom for to tell,  
When they do any thing amiss or well;  
Still in this Passion observe a mean,  
And not to fear nor to presumption lean.   

OF DESPAIR.  
SATY. 11.  
NO more of fear, for lo his impious brat,  
Looks now to be admitted; this is that;  
We call Despair, with ghastly looks he stands,  
And poisons, ropes, or poinyards fills his hands,  
Still ready to do hurt; one step, no more,  
Reaches from hence unto dam nations door.  
This is that Passion gives a man instruction,  
To wrest the Scriptures to his own destruction;  
And makes him think while he on earth doth dwell  
He feels the very torturing pangs of hell;  
It makes men rage, like furies screeeh and howl,  
With exclamations horrible and foul,  
Like Monsters more than men. Only damnation  
Is in their mouths; no mercy nor salvation  
They seem to hope for: they extremely fear  
Some monstrous shapes which seem for to appear  
Through their imaginations; and the pain  
That they in soul and conscience do sustain,  
All earthly tortures doth so much exceed,  
That they have thought themselves in hell indeed  
Oh what repentant lives, some vow to live,  
If God would but once more vouchsafe to give  
Their health and hope again: then they would spend  
Their lives, and good, unto no other end  
But wholly for his glory: yet there's now  
Some living that have quite forgot that vow,  
God give them grace to look into their error,  
Or they will one day find a double terror,  
Some in this agony have little will,  
To any thing, unless it be to kill,  
Or make themselves away; whereto the Devil,  
The author and chief causer of this evil,  
(Unless that God in mercy him prevents)  
Is ready to provide him instruments,  
I even quake to think what humours be,  
Attending on this hellish malady;  
And for some cause I mean not here to show them,  
But pray that all had grace for to eschew them:  
Now some do think this passion being taken,  
Can very hardly be again forsaken;  
But let none think so; for why? God in distress  
Doth never leave man quite without redress:  
Nor can we say that he hath left us void,  
Of help for this, when ere we are anoy'd  
Through Satan's guile; for pitying our case,  
He leaves us hope of favour and of grace,  
If we'll lay hold on't; which to make more clear,  
He let his everlasting love appear,  
In highest measure, by the sacrifice  
Of CHRIST his son for our iniquities;  
And also, did not sin thus make us blind,  
For every grief of body and of mind,  
He hath ordained a salve: All Christians know  
(Or should at least) the spring from whence doth flow,  
A precious liquor that will quickly cure,  
Our strongest Passions, (if the cup be pure)  
Or if we do not so presume as stand,  
And lap it here and there with our own hand,  
For that's the way to soothe up many a passion,  
And the alonely cause of Desperation;  
Which from all goodmen I do wish as far,  
As earth's low centre from the highest star,  
But now despair or▪, distrust is twofold,  
One sort of which I have already told,  
Being concerning matters of salvation,  
The horriblest and feareful'st desperation,  
But th' other is alone of earthly things,  
Yet mighty disadvantage with it brings,  
Where it gets entrance; this makes many loath,  
To undertake great matters cause through sloth  
They do despair to reach them; yea it breeds  
A carelessness in man, and thence proceeds  
Not a few treasons; for the breach of law,  
Makes many times the subject in such awe,  
That he despairs of pardon for his ill;  
And therefore not alone remains in't still,  
But being guilty, for to salve one sore  
Incurs the danger of a thousand more;  
And for because he thinks himself undone,  
Will for assurance to Rebellion run:  
Besides, there's some despairing of their cause,  
And being brought to trial by the laws,  
For some offence are obstinately mute:  
To these forsooth the commons do impute  
A manly Resolution; cause thereby,  
They save their lands to their posterity;  
But sure there is no wiseman will commend  
Him that so desperately seeks his end;  
And wilfully doth cast away himself  
(Body and soul perhaps) to save his pelf,  
To some survivors; where as if he bide  
On hope, and not despair for to be tried  
According to the laws, he may be cleared,  
And quitted of the danger he so feared,  
As some have been: Besides, if we endure,  
But a small pain, if we despair of cure,  
Ease or amends, 'twil make it seem to be  
Unsufferable; whereas if that we  
Have any Hope, the ease we look to win  
Will mitigate the torture we are in;  
His winter toil what Ploughman could sustain▪  
If he despaired of his harvest gain?  
And the strongest army needs must faint and ●ly,  
If it despair before of victory.  
But to conclude it must be understood,  
Despairs a Passion that is no time good,  
'Tis always hurtful; and I can observe  
Nothing whereto a man may make it serve,  
Unless to help a troup of coward fight:  
For could a man lead them past hope of flight,  
Where they should see there were no remedy,  
But they must die or get the victory;  
Despair in that case may give them the day,  
That would have lost it to have run away.   

OF HOPE.  
SATY. 12.  
THrice welcome Hope the devil keep home the tother  
(Despair & fear are sitting for no other)  
This is the Passion that of all the rest,  
We have most reason to esteem of best:  
For if it be with good advise applied,  
A salve it is God did himself provide  
To ease not only every outward grief,  
But when the very soul doth want relief,  
It will redress her pain, although it were  
The shaking of that hideous monster fear:  
Oh precious Balm! Yea, if that man had power,  
To take it to himself at such an hour,  
When black Despair doth pinch him, that indeed  
Would quite expel it; and he should not need  
Apothecary drugs. But what can we,  
Apply aright and not instructed be,  
By God's good inspiration? Nay, 'tis true;  
We are so far unlike for to pursue  
The way we should, that we do follow still,  
The crooked'st path to lose ourselves in ill:  
This needing Hope, we either never use it,  
Or else for want of knowledge do abuse it:  
Yea this that of all Passions was the best,  
Is now as much corrupted as the rest;  
We must consider then, Man's hope is double,  
One true and certain: th' other full of trouble,  
And most unconstant: the first hope attends  
Things more immortal, and alone depends,  
On th' expectation of the certainest things,  
And such perfection of true joy, as brings  
No trouble with it, This through faith we gain,  
And 'tis sufficient to make any pain  
Seem short and easy; yea it cheers a man,  
And 'tis a help, without the which none can  
Endure to live: but now great store there be,  
Who for because of their infirmity,  
Together through the bad and weak foundation,  
They build this hope on, make it in some fashion  
To be blameworthy: It, cannot endure,  
Nor will it (without doubting) make them sure  
Of what they look for. Now the other kind  
Of hope, which I amongst us men do find,  
Is of uncertain earthly things, and this  
Of no continuance and oft frustrate is;  
For the best likelihoods that may be shown,  
And the strongest human reasons that are known,  
Are nothing for to ground a hope upon;  
(Since in the turning of a hand 'tis gone)  
Were all the men on earth procured to  
Some easy thing that's in ones power to do;  
And all were well resolved to see it done;  
Yea, were't but one days work, and that begun,  
We may well hope indeed they'll bring to pass,  
So small a thing as that; but yet, alas!  
None can assure it, for because they know,  
No warrant from above it should be so:  
And therefore I could wish that every man,  
Should take unto him the best hope he can,  
In all his outward actions; but foresee,  
At least on honest grounds it builded be,  
And therewith be so well prepared still,  
That if these doubtful hopes do fall out ill,  
He ne'er repine, but take't as if the same  
Had been expected long before it came;  
And since that fickle trust did nought avail him,  
Depend on the true hope that shall near fail him.  
For that indeed that's placed on wit or strength  
Is vain, and most uncertain; cause at length,  
How ere it may seem sure, it will deceive him,  
And when he hath most need of comfort, leave him.  
Besides there's many to this hope are led,  
By sundry Passions within them bred:  
As Love, Ambition, Avarice, and such,  
'Tis true that these will make a man hope much;  
But many thereby into errors run  
So blindly on, that they are quite undone,  
'Cause in their minds, they hopefully expect,  
A thousand things which they shall near effect;  
For they give their desires too large a scope,  
And do abuse themselves through feigned hope,  
Not having placed it on a certain ground  
(For then it never could be frustrate found.)  
But lovers hopes, and such as theirs, are bold,  
On every paltry trifle to lay hold.  
And whatsoe'er the Ambitious do intend,  
The hopes they have to bring their plots to end  
Are drawn from n' other grounds but their affections  
Which for the most part give such blind directions,  
That they, as we may by experience see  
Together with their hopes oft ruined be;  
But as this passion is now much abused,  
The next that follows is as hardly used.   

OF COMPASSION.  
SATYR. 13.  
Pity is known a kind and tender Passion,  
In it own nature worthy commendation;  
And if Discretion guide it, well may be  
Of mere alliance unto Charity;  
If not, it then from virtue quickly swerves,  
And with the rest a like reproof deserves:  
Now some will muse thereat, such as suppose  
A man through pity cannot err; but those  
If they have any judgement of their own,  
Shall say compassion may amiss be shown:  
Yea, and oft is, which they will quickly find,  
Or else I'll say their Reason's eye is blind;  
First let them tell me, is't not frequented now,  
That those the which our Country laws allow  
jurors for trial, are oft-times compelled  
Through a base tender weakness for to yield.  
Unto this melting Passion? sometime by,  
A personal respect ta'en by the eye:  
Sometime for that th' offendor (it may be,  
Already hath sustained much misery:  
And think they not this Charity and right?  
Yet through the Ignorance forgetting quite,  
Whilst they an ill deserved life prolong,  
Therein they do not only justice wrong,  
But by their indiscreet and fond Compassion,  
Unwisely hazard e'en their own Salvation;  
Then for their need, or cause they much implore,  
In common pleas they lean unto the poor,  
(If might o'er sway them not,) and that they trust,  
(Because they mean well) may be counted Just:  
Are there not some toe, who would fain be deemed  
Good commonwealths men? yet have misesteemed  
That Order which for wandering rogues was made,  
(And as if they allowed their begging trade)  
Much pity those that justly punished be,  
As though it were done void of Charity?  
Yea they have dared to say thus much and more,  
There's no laws made now, but against the poor:  
Moreover, he whose judgement is so slender,  
And hath an yielding heart so fond tender  
To stoop unto this Passion, neither spares  
The laws of God nor man; but rashly dares  
Pervert them both; supposing his intent,  
Shall free him from deserved punishment:  
These though that God himself says kill; reply  
With no alas? 'tis pity he should die:  
But such as they deserve the self same-check  
He had that spared the King of Amaleck:  
For to say truth as virtuous as it shows,  
A foolish p●tty quickly overthrows,  
In War an Army and in peace a State;  
And this I'll stand to, 'tis as bad as Hate,  
For That and Bribes to such a power is grown,  
Iustic● can little in some courts now be shown:  
Yea it is clear and cannot be withstood,  
That Pity sometimes hurts the common good,  
And more we find that God's thereby offended,  
And therefore man must have this fault amended,  
And be persuaded 'tis his part to see,  
How far this Passion may admitted be;  
For seem how 'twill, all pity is unfit,  
Unless God's laws and Man's do warrant it:  
But I have noted some kindhearted Asses,  
Worth laughing at, that all the rest surpasses  
For foolish pity: but themselves alone,  
'Tis prejudicial too; or hurteth none;  
To these do you but a Tragedian be,  
Or else recite some ancient history;  
If that the matter which you do relate  
Be sorrowful and something Passionate,  
Though it were done a thousand years ago,  
And in a Country they did never know,  
Yet will they weep (kind-hearts) as if those men,  
Were of their friends; and that thing told, but then  
Before their eyes in action: nay, unfold  
Some new made tale that never yet was told,  
So it be doleful and do represent  
Some strange and lamentable accident:  
Although not only (as I said before)  
It be a matter merely feigned, but more;  
Though that they know it so, they cannot keep  
Their melting eyes from tears but they must weep  
I might touch Parents, chiefly in the City,  
That mar their children by their cockering pity,  
But other Passions call me now away;  
And yet before I leave thus much I'll say,  
Those fond-kind Parents that take rods from schools  
Have almost filled the land with knaves and fools  
And those that think we need no pity rue,  
Let them not hold so still, for this is true,  
Fond pity rests in no true manly breast;  
And therefore you that are, or would at least  
Be counted men; be not therewith o'er o'er born,  
For 'tis a Passion that now Women scorn.   

OF CRUELTY.  
SATYR. 14.  
But here's another bears us farther wide,  
If we embrace it on the other side;  
And therefore whilst we seek for to beware  
Of foolish Pity, we must have a care  
Lest this do overrun us: 'tis a thing,  
Whose very name doth seem enough to bring,  
All men in the opinion to confess,  
'tis an inhuma●e hellish wickedness:  
A monstrous Passion, so unfit to rest  
Or harbour in a reasonable breast  
That beasts, in whom it rather should remain,  
Do for the greatest part the same refrain:  
And yet as odious as it doth appear,  
Unless men look to their affections near,  
'Twill steal upon them, and they shall begin,  
Not only to be quickly snared therein,  
Although at first they do abhor it much,  
●ut more; the nature of this Passion's such,  
It will begin delightful; and it makes  
So deep impression in the heart, and takes  
So sound a root, 'twill hardly be displaced,  
Whilst that the body by the soul is graced:  
And yet some do supposer i● may with ease,  
Be left or took as every one shall please,  
But they are wide, like them that overbold,  
And trusting to their proper strength, uphold,  
We need not this same Passion discommend,  
Nature sufficient is to reprehend  
That fault (they say.) And they detest it so,  
Reason can near have such an overthrow,  
That they should live themselves for to defile,  
With any passion that they know so vile:  
Indeed it is a monstrous villainy,  
And most I think can rail at cruelty,  
Yet let none be so careless, for 'tis true,  
The odious vices we do most eschew,  
Grow pleasing by degrees: When Hasael  
Was told what he should do to Israel,  
Full little thought he then his gentle heart,  
Should ever give consent to act a part,  
Of such a Tragic Scene; and yet we find,  
He became after of another mind:  
For our intents and best affections, be  
Exceeding subject to uncertainty:  
Those we think surest; and unless each hour,  
We be remembered such a state is our  
We should forget ourselves. Philip, the Sire  
Of that bold Grecian King that did aspire  
To be the world's third Monarch, knew full well  
Himself to be a Man, yet could not tell  
Whereto he might through human frailty fall,  
And therefore wiled his servant for to call,  
Thus at his window (ere the day began)  
Philip, Remember that thou art a man.  
And e'en as hateful as this Passion is,  
To be remembered so, 'twere not amiss,  
But men are stronger now they think than he,  
And much less prone to imbecility;  
But you that think so, and you that uphold  
This needs no warning, pray let me be bold  
For to demand some questions, since there be,  
So few as you think stained with cruelty;  
Is he not merciless, that without shame  
Doth rob his neighbour of his honest name  
By raising false reports? doth not that Lord,  
That to his Tenant grudges to afford,  
What Love and Conscience gives? or he that takes,  
The common profit to himself, and makes  
His own good of it, when he knows thereby  
Many a poor man's brought to Beggary?  
Doth not I say that Landlord hardly deal?  
And is he not unto the common weal.  
A cruel foe? some damned Usurers,  
That are I think the devils Treasurers:  
(For by the small use they of riches make  
They for another seem their care to take)  
Are they not cruel, when they cannot be,  
Contented with their Statute Vsuree  
But must increase their gains by bribes and gifts,  
With many subtle and unlawful shifts;  
Pinching poor debtors till their greedy hands  
Have got possession both of goods and lands?  
What are out Lawyers that can brook to see,  
Christians like Beasts that still a wrangling be,  
And yet when it lies in their power to part them,  
Will for their own gain unto discord heart them,  
Keeping them still at strife by adding fuel  
To maintain an ill flame; Are they not cruel?  
Yes verily; and so are not alone,  
The merciless offenders; but each one:  
Who when he doth perceive that there is need,  
Is slack to do a charitable deed:  
And what may they be that employ their care,  
To pamper up the flesh with curious fare:  
Largely providing for the Bodies good  
Whilst the poor Soul is hunger-starved for food?  
They are not cruel? No, 'tis like that such  
That can take pity on themselves so much,  
Are merciful to others. You will say  
To poison men 'twere ill, then what are they  
That by false doctrine fraught with errors foul,  
Seek to enuenome and infect the soul?  
Cruel they are (I know) you must confess,  
But than you'll say 'tis not that Cruelness  
You understood; As if you did suppose,  
None through this Passion did offend but those  
That murderers be: In truth I think that this  
I here recite, not principallest is.  
For it from other causes doth proceed,  
Whereas true proper Cruelty indeed,  
Is when a man delights and longs to see,  
Or do, some deed that's full of cruelty:  
Just such was his that out of a desire,  
To see how Troy burnt when it was on fire,  
Caused Rome in many places for to flame,  
And longing to behold from whence he came,  
Ripped up his mother's womb; a passive right  
Was also his, that took so much delight,  
For to behold men strangely tortured,  
That he out of his bounty promised,  
A large reward to him that could invent,  
The cruel'st and vnusuall'st punishment;  
Which Phalaris demanding, was therefore,  
The first that made his Brazen Bull to roar;  
And like to this are those men's humours to,  
That uncompelled, would make no more a do  
To murder, till a Country were unmanned,  
Then doth a schoolboy with a walking wand,  
To lop down thistles tops. Now these men be  
Passively cruel in the highest degree:  
And though the first rehearsed be not so,  
Yet thereto they may very quickly grow:  
Unless they have oft warning to beware,  
Since they already halfway entered are:  
Especially the greedy hungry elf,  
That would for profit gladly damn himself:  
For Avarice doth harden so the heart;  
In any mischief he may bear a part.  
No cruelty the Covetous refrains,  
Murder nor Treason so he may have gains.  
If that I thought 'twould any thing avail,  
Against this Passion I could further rail;  
But as it reigns in man experience shows;  
So that 'tis evil there is none but knows:  
Wherefore I'll say no more but only this,  
As he is blessed that meek hearted is:  
So for the Cruel lightly doth attend,  
A heavy curse, and a most fearful end.   

OF JOY.  
SATYR. 15.  
OF all the Passions handled hitherto,  
With this that follows I had least to do:  
And yet by some small trials I have had,  
'Tis better I perceive then being sad:  
Yea 'twere the greatest blessing that might be,  
Were't of itself, and from all cumbrance free:  
But seldom 'tis or never; cause that such,  
Is our estate; As if that Fa●e did grudge  
The use of simples; we almost can find,  
Nothing to pleasure us in it own kind:  
Never could any man as yet obtain  
joy, but there followed either shame or pain:  
And he no question that's allowed most,  
Doth dearly pay for what is quickly lost:  
But now the reason why men's joy so soon  
Is changed to sorrow; Is because there's none,  
Or very few that do their gladness found  
Upon a solid, firm, substantial ground:  
But on such subjects as no marvel tho,  
It doth receive so quick an overthrow  
And hath so sharp a farewell: For one, joys  
In Dogs, Apes, Monkeys, or some such like toys,  
And when they fail, as how can they last long?  
Their mirth is finished; they must change their song.  
Some in their honour all their joy do place,  
But let them take good heed: for if disgrace,  
Add the least motion unto Fortune's wheel,  
Sorrow takes place, and little joy they feel:  
Take but away his Substance you destroy  
The miserable rich men's only joy,  
And soon by sickness that delight's defaced,  
Which man in beauty, or in strength hath placed:  
Yea all our joy in transitory things  
They being lost, at last a sorrow brings:  
And therefore I wish men to make their choice,  
Of that wherein 'twere fit for to rejoice,  
And not in things so frivolous and vain,  
They must repent them for their joy again.  
Some do so firmly settle their delight  
On things unworthy that they are e'en quite  
Bereft of understanding when they see,  
They must of them again deprived be:  
But oh you men (that have your better parts,  
Of an immortal frame) awake your hearts,  
And from●delight in dross, and clay, remove  
Your joys; and place them upon things above:  
So shall you still have cause for to rejoice,  
And not with sorrow thus repent your choice.  
Another fault I in man's joy espy,  
Which I'll illustrate by this Simile,  
Look how those men that being calmed at Sea,  
And forced the leisure of the winds to stay,  
Half starved for food, once cast upon some shore,  
Where, of provision they are served with store:  
I say look how those men by taking in,  
To their weak stomachs that have fasting been  
A little food; do then begin to faint;  
And cause their palates they do not acquaint,  
With a spare diet, (although it wholesome be)  
Through former want and their infirmity  
It works their bane; Right so it fares in this,  
For he that always in some sorrow is,  
And tossed upon the boisterous seas of care  
If for his comfort he be landed there  
Where joy abounds; His heart, where (none hath been  
Full many a day before) receives it in,  
So out of measure; that it even makes  
The Soul unquiet, and thereby he takes  
A Surfeit; whose strong violence is such,  
The body faints or is endangered much.  
I need not stand on proofs for this, I trow,  
Since there be many by experience know,  
At sudden telling of some news that's good,  
divers have senseless and amazed stood.  
Yea been so ravished with the joy they took,  
That they have e'en their lives and all forsook,  
Though flesh be frail, me thinks if every man,  
Would strive to curb his nature what he can;  
Arms of resistance they might better wield,  
And not so basely to their Passions yield:  
Yea it befits not him that ought to be,  
At all points fenced with Magnanimity,  
To suffer any mischief to annoy  
His mind, through either too much care or joy;  
But let these passions of each other borrow,  
He may be sad with Mirth and glad with Sorrow,  
Much I might speak more (some perhaps will say)  
But here my Muse is now resolved to stay:  
Yet if hereafter I have joy in store,  
If it be needful, I will tell you more.   

OF SORROW.  
SATYR. 16.  
OF this said Passion I may knowledge take,  
And well say somewhat for acquaintance sake,  
I hear it is complained upon of many,  
Yet I dare say it seldom hurteth any,  
Excepting those by whom 'tis entertained,  
And such indeed have with just cause complained:  
For whilst they keep it they shall never rest,  
'Tis so untamed and troublesome a guest:  
Yet such a guest, though he his host diseases,  
'Tis thought he cannot rid him when he pleases.  
Yet if that man would use the means he might,  
Sure by degrees he might outwear it quite;  
Yea 'tis his part and duty. For should he,  
That must on ●arth jehovahs' Viceroy be?  
Should he to whom his sovereign Lord hath given  
A Countenance for to behold the Heaven?  
Should he, I say, blot out this manly grace,  
And groveling turn to earth his blubbered face?  
It were a shame: yet more shall he that saith,  
He is a Christian and seems t'have faith,  
For loss of friends; when there's no remedy,  
Be passionate in such extremity,  
That childish tears not only stains his face,  
(Which may be borne withal in such a case)  
But also raves, grows furious, and extends  
His grief past reasons limits; who commends  
A man for that Say, is it any less,  
Then to deny by deed what words profess?  
For who would think which fees how he bewails,  
The loss of breath that in a moment fails,  
That he believes, but rather think 'tis vain,  
To hope or trust, the flesh shall rise again;  
Or that there were, as holy Scripture saith,  
Any reward for them that die in faith.  
It's a plain token of a misbelief,  
When Christians so over whelm themselves with grief:  
And therefore though I do not discommend,  
The moderate bewailing of a friend;  
I wish the Extreme hereof men might despise,  
Lest they do their profession Scandalise:  
Beside though as I seemed to say before,  
Unless 't be common, 'tis no common sore,  
Because it hurts but those that entertain it,  
Yet were it good if all men could refrain it;  
For it not only makes man's visage be  
Wried, Deformed, and wrinkled as we see,  
Himself exiling from the common eye,  
To vex and grieve alone, he knows not why:  
But also brings diseases with his death,  
By the untimely stopping of his breath.  
●t makes his friends to loathe his company,  
And greatly hinders his commodity,  
For who for dealings in affairs is fit,  
Unless with good will he attendeth it.  
And howsoe'er it seem, yet surely this,  
As far from virtue as bad pleasure is,  
For as through one one we to much evil run,  
So many good things th' other leaves undone:  
I wonder that this Passion should touch,  
The hearts of men to make them grieve so much  
As many do, for present miseries;  
Have they no feeling of felicities,  
That are to come? If that they be in pain,  
Let hope give ease; It will not always rain,  
calms do the roughest storms that are attend,  
And th' longest night that is will have an end.  
But 'tis still bad thou sayst, take't patiently,  
An age is nothing to eternity,  
Thy times not here: Envy not though that some  
Seem to thee happy; their bad day's to come,  
And if thou knewest the grief they must sustain,  
Thou wouldst not think so hardly of thy pain:  
I must confess 'twas once a fault of mine,  
At every misadventure to repine;  
I sought preferment, and it fled me still,  
Whereat I grieved, and thought my fortune ill;  
I vexed to see some in prosperity,  
Deride and scoff at my adverstie;  
But since advised, and weighing in my mind  
The course of things, I soon began to find  
The vainness of them; these I saw of late  
In bliss, (as I thought) scorning my estate,  
I see now ebbing, and the once-full tide  
That overflowed the lofty banks of pride,  
Hath left them like the sand shore, bare and dry,  
And almost in as poor a case as I.  
Besides, I viewed my days, now gone and passed,  
And how my fortunes from the first to th' last  
Were linked together; I observed, I say,  
Each Chance and Deed of mine, from day to day,  
That memory could keep; yet found I none,  
Not one thing in my life that was alone:  
But still it either did depend on some  
That was already passed, or to come;  
Yea, the most childish, idle trifling thing,  
That seemed no Necessity to bring;  
In that hath the Beginnings oft been hid,  
Of some the weightiest things that ere I did:  
But chiefly to abate the excessive joying,  
In worldly things; and to prevent th' annoying  
Of any sorrow, this I noted thence,  
(And ever-since have made it a defence  
For both these passions) I have truly seen,  
That those things wherewith I have joyed been▪  
Highly delighted, and the dearest loved,  
Even those very things have often proved,  
My chiefest Care: And I have found again,  
That which I deemed my greatest loss, or pain,  
And wherewithal I have been most annoyed,  
And should have deemed a blessing to avoid;  
That which my heart hath asked for; and wherein,  
I thought me most unhappy; that hath been  
The ground of my best●ioyes: For which cause, I  
Advise all men that are in misery  
To stand unmoved, for why they do not know  
Whether it be to them for good or no:  
They ought not for to murmur nor to pine  
At any thing, shall please the powers Divine  
To lay upon them: for my mind is this,  
Each sorrow is an entrance into Bliss.  
And that the greatest pleasure we attain;  
Is but a Sign of some ensuing Pain.  
But to be plainer, this our life 's a toy,  
That hath nought in it worth our grief or joy:  
But there are some baseminded dunghill elves,  
That sorrow not for any but themselves.  
Or if they do 'tis only for the loss  
Of some old crest-fallen lade; But that's a cross  
Past bearing; be it but a rotten sheep,  
Or two stale eggs, they will such yelling keep,  
As if thereby had perished a brood,  
In which consisted half the kingdoms good:  
But I entreat them since it must befall,  
They would be patient; who can do withal?  
And also let them of much Grief beware;  
For there's small odds between the same and Care:  
And they have heard (I need not tell them that)  
'Tis an old saying, Care will kill a Cat.  
Then let them take heart, chiefly since they see,  
None live but sometime they must losers be,  
Which is an ease: for I have heard them tell,  
With mates they care not, if they go to hell.  
But in good earnest now let us not run,  
Willingly hereinto as we have done;  
Rather avoid it as a hurtful foe,  
That can effect nought but our overthrow:  
And yet instead receive into our breast,  
An honest mirth, which is a better guest;  
And whatsoever our former grief hath been,  
Let us near sorrow more, but for our Sin:  
Thus with this Passion end the rest will I,  
Because it ends not till our End is nigh.   

THE CONCLUSION.  
THus have I laboured some Effects to show,  
That do from men's abused Passions flow;  
Which from example of old ages passed,  
And wisemen's Sayings, I might more have graced▪  
But that I am resolved to tie my Rhymes  
As much as may be to the present Times;  
Also I might amongst these here have told,  
The body's Passions; as Hunger, Cold,  
Heat, Thirst, and such like; but their force is seen,  
And most men have sufficient careful been  
For to prevent them; they last not so long,  
Nor are by much so violent and strong,  
Or dangerous as these: but if men knew,  
Or with the eyes of Reason would o'er view  
These foule-bred maladies, as sure they ought,  
They would with greater diligence have sought  
The cure of them, then of such slight diseases;  
The which their bodies and no more displeases:  
But now the reason men disturbed are,  
For the most part with such preposterous Care  
Is this; through their corrupted judgement they,  
Do only on things seen depend and stay;  
Which being most apparent to the sense,  
So muffles up the weak Intelligence,  
And blinds her that she hath no power to see,  
The better things that more subsisting be;  
When if they could conceive but half so well  
The Souls Estate, they'd labour to expel  
All these corruptions, that may cause her woe,  
All those fell Passions that molest her so:  
But some men have in this opinion stood,  
That every passion's natural and good;  
Indeed Philosophers the same do call,  
A Motion of the soul that's natural;  
And in some sort we may not be afraid,  
For to uphold as much as they have said:  
But thus we must distinguish on it then,  
And make a twofold Passion in men,  
Of which, one sort unto the best aspires,  
And that alone, things merely good, desires,  
Therein rejoicing; moderate, and weak  
In operation; and the truth to speak;  
We have it rather by God's Inspiration,  
Then bred within us at our Generation:  
The other, as th' effects thereof do show,  
Doth by our own corrupted nature grow;  
For it is headstrong, rash, insatiate,  
Wondrous disordered, and immoderate,  
Of which kind these are, whereof I have spoken,  
And they are oft the cause men's sleeps are broken;  
That 'tis which makes them rave, or grieve, or joy  
So out of measure for a trifling toy;  
Yea that 'tis only makes them oft so teasie,  
Their friends seem troublesome, their beds uneasy,  
And lastly, these are the occasions still,  
Of all misfortunes, and of every ill;  
Th' effects they do produce we also see,  
Contrary to their expectations be;  
For he that hopes, or looks for to attain,  
Great joy & Pleasure haps on grief and pain:  
But by what means may men these passions kill?  
Sure not by the procuring of their will,  
As some imagine. For first it may be,  
A thing that's not in possibility  
For to be reached unto. But say it were,  
Will the Ambitious-minded-man forbear  
To be Ambitious, if he once fulfil  
His longing thoughts? No; he will rather still,  
Increase that passion which first he had  
Or fall into some other that's as bad;  
For altering the Condition or Estate,  
The soul's vexation doth no more abate,  
Then changing rooms or beds doth ease his pains  
That hath a Fever; since the Cause remains  
Still in himself: But how and which way then  
May these Diseases be recured in men?  
Why by Philosophy, Counsel, and Reason,  
These being well applied in their due season  
May do much good. Else seek the Cause whence rise,  
These hurtful and pernicious maladies.  
Let them consider That, and so they may,  
Cut off the 'ffect by taking it away.  
But if they cannot the occasions find  
I'll tell them 'tis a Baseness of the mind:  
Or else a false Opinion that's in some,  
Of Good or Evil present or to come.  
Respecting good things thus: They do desire  
And are to yehemently set on fire▪  
With coveting what seems so; Or annoying,  
Themselves with an Excessive Overjoying,  
In the obtaining. In regard of ill,  
They are oppressed with some sorrow still;  
So that we see if men would go about,  
To change their minds, and drive that baseness out  
Through Magnanimity, (And note well this,  
That Passion but some false Opinion is,  
Framed by the will, and drawn by the direction  
Of judgement that's corrupted by affection)  
methinks they might by reasons help confound,  
The former errors that have ta'en such ground,  
In their weak Hearts, and learn for to esteem,  
That which doth either good or evil seem:  
(And in their souls such perturbation wrought)  
As things not good, nor ill, and that which ought,  
(Being unworthy) neither to molest,  
Nor breed such Passions in their careful breast.  
By these and other such like means as these,  
The wise Philosophers in elder days  
Kept out those furies, and 'twere now a shame,  
If that we Christians could not do the same:  
Having besides those helps whereon they stayed,  
A certain promise of a better aid,  
If we'll but ask it: Le's demand it then,  
To rid these evils from our souls again.  
If that we feel them yet not stirring in us,  
Let us prevent them ere by force they win us:  
For 'tis more easy (every one doth know)  
For to keep out, then to expella foe:  
If any think I from my purpose serve,  
'Cause my intent was chiefly to observe  
And not to Teach; let them not blame me tho;  
For who can see his friends lie sick, and know  
Which way to cure them? But you'll say my skill,  
Cannot instruct you: yet may my goodwill  
Be worth accepting, and the other neither,  
A thing to be rejected altogether:  
For, I have seen when in a known disease  
Doctors with all their Art could give no ease  
To their weak Patient; a Country Dame,  
Hath with a home-made medicine Cured the same:  
And why not I, in this? Yes, I'll abide it;  
Being well used it helps, for I have tried it:  
Thus much for that; but still there doth remain  
Some observations yet for to explain;  
I have not done, for I am further tasked,  
And there's more Humours yet to be unmasked,  
Wherein because I will not step astray  
Nor swerver from Truth a jot beside the way,  
I'll say no more (lest men should seem belied)  
Than what my own experience hath espied;  
And than if any frown, (as sure they dare not)  
So I speak truth, let them frown still I care not:  
But if my Muse you should so saucy find,  
Sometime to leave her Notes, and speak her mind,  
As oft she doth, when she but haps to see,  
How vain, or weak, or fickle, most men be;  
Yet blame me not, 'tis out of the goodwill  
I bear to you, and hatred unto ill:  
Which when I see, my purposed Course I break,  
Because, indeed, I am compelled to speak:  
Yet think not, though I some where bitter be,  
I count myself from all those Vices free;  
Rather imagine 'tis to me well known,  
That here with others faults I tell mine own.  
The end of the first Book.    

THE SECOND BOOK. OF THE VANITY. Inconstancy, Weakness, and Presumption of Men.  

PRECATIO.  
THou that Createdst all things in a week,  
Great God: whose favour I do only seek,  
E'en thou by whose sweet Inspiration,  
I undertook this observation;  
Oh grant, I pray, since thou hast deigned to show,  
Thy servant that which thousands do not know,  
That this my noting of man's humorous Passion,  
May work within Me such an Alteration,  
I may be for my past offences sorry,  
And lead a life to thy eternal glory.  
Let not Ambition, nor foul Desire,  
Nor Hate, nor Envy set my heart on fire,  
Revenge, nor Choler, no nor jealousy,  
And keep me from Despair and Cruelty,  
Fond hope expel, and I beseech thee bless,  
My soul from fear and too much heaviness.  
But give me special grace to shun the vice,  
That is so common; Beastly Avarice:  
Yea grant me power I not only know,  
But fly those evils that from Passion flow.  
Moreover now Inspire my soul with art,  
And grant me thy assistance to impart,  
The rest of men's ill Customs, yet remaining,  
And his vain humours; that by my explaining,  
They may perceive how odious I can make them,  
Blush at the reading and at last forsake them:  
So let my Muse in this and things to come,  
Sing to thy glory, Lord, or else be dumb.   

THE SECOND BOOK. Of the Vanity, Inconstancy, Weakness, and Presumption of MEN. OF VANITY.  
SATYR. 1.  
MY Muse, that now hath done the best she can  
To blaze corrupted Passion bred in man,  
Goes further here, and means for to undo,  
Another knot of ill's he's prone unto;  
From which, as out of the main root there grows,  
All whatsoever evil, Mankind knows,  
With thousands of bad Humours, of which some,  
(Such as to mind by observation come;  
As also, such as are the proper crimes  
Of these ungodly and disordered times:)  
She means to treat off: the chief heads be these,  
(Consider of them Reader if thou please)  
First Wanton, and lightheaded Vanity,  
Next that, Chameleon-like Inconstancy.  
Then, miserable Weakness; lastly this,  
Damned Presumption, that o'erdaring is.  
But ere I do begin this work, that I  
May speak to purpose with sincerity,  
Lord I beseech thee help me to explain,  
And teach me to contemn the thing that's vain,  
I have begun in thee this my endeavour,  
And constancy I crave for to persever;  
Also my knowledge I confess is weak,  
Yet through thy strength and truth I hope to break  
These mires of sin, from which mankind, kept under,  
Must be let loose (like beds of Eelles by thunder)  
Then that I may man's pride the better see,  
From all Presumption Lord deliver me.  
Likewise disperse the foggy mist of sin,  
That to my purpose hath a hindrance been,  
And th' evil by thy wisdom I perceive,  
Lord let thy mercy give me grace to leave;  
That being free myself, I may not coldly,  
Tax others faults but reprehend them boldly.  
So having for this good assistance prayed,  
My Muse goes forward trusting to thine aid,  
To guide me in the Wilderness of Sin,  
Great Vanities Survey: for being in,  
I see now 'tis an intricate Maeander,  
In which (I fear) I shall confusedly wander:  
It is a Labyrinth so full of ways,  
And seems so endless if my pen o●ce strays,  
As doth the Fisherman amazed stand,  
That knoweth not, which way to row to land,  
When all alone in some close misty day;  
Far from the Haven he hath lost his way.  
Knowing he may as well strike up the Main,  
As turn unto the wished Shore again;  
So I do fear lest this may carry me,  
Into an Ocean where no Sea-marks be.  
Because what way so ere my course I bend,  
There Vanity I see without all end;  
Which hath not under her Subjection gained  
Such things alone as are on earth contained,  
Or underneath the Orbs of Air and Fire,  
But reaches farther and encroaches higher;  
According to his meaning, who said plain,  
That all things underneath the Sun were vain:  
But now I think it may a question be,  
Whether the Sun, the Moon and Stars be free,  
For sometimes false predictions they impart,  
Or are belied by abused Art;  
But of Man only here my Muse must tells  
Who is by much more vain than all things else.  
For Vanity his reason overswayes,  
Not only on some certain Months or Days,  
But is at all times in him resident,  
As if it were his proper accident;  
Neither doth age, in which he groweth on,  
Any thing lessen the proportion  
Of Vanities he had. But in the steed,  
Of some rejected follies there succeed  
Others as bad: for we perceive when boys,  
Begin to Man, (ashamed of childish toys)  
These than leave off, their former idle chat,  
And foolish games; but what's the cause of that?  
For being ill? No; rather they contemn  
Those bad things as not bad enough for them;  
And as one poor, plays first for points and pins,  
Once growing rich leaves that, and then begins  
To venture Crowns, dislikes not gaming though  
He shun the first game as not fit enough,  
For his estate; So young men do forsake,  
The roperipe tricks, that their first age did take  
Chief pleasure in; not cause they wicked deem them  
But being men they think't will not beseem them;  
Then Hounds & Hawks, & Whore's a● their delight;  
Quarrels and Brawls do fit their humours right,  
Disordered meetings, Drunken Revelling,  
Consuming Dice, and lavish banquetings,  
Proud, costly Robes, this is the young man's Vain,  
The which his Elder doth dislike again,  
Not since ill neither: But because his years,  
Him unto other Vanities endears;  
As Self Conceit, much Care for worldly pelf,  
Heaping up what he near enjoys himself,  
Prove to Contentions, much desiring still,  
Be it his weal, or woe, to have his will.  
Extremely loving lies, and given to prate,  
Yet making show as if he both did hate:  
Yea old men boast of what they did in youth,  
Which none disproving we must take for truth:  
And thousands more or else they are belied,  
Each age is pestered with; and yet beside,  
Vanities●proper unto each degree,  
Millions of thousands I suppose there be.  
Princes have these, They very basely can,  
Suffer themselves that have the rule of man,  
To be oreberne by Villains; so instead,  
Of Kings they stand, when they are slaves indeed.  
By blood and wrong a heavenly Crown they'll danger  
IT assure their State here (often to a stranger.)  
They quickly yield unto the Battaries,  
Of sly insinuating flatteries,  
Most bountiful to fools, too full of fear,  
And far to credulous of that they hear.  
So given to pleasure, as if in that thing,  
Consisted all the Office of a King.  
But if here in my harmless halting Rhymes,  
Were only tied unto this Place and Times,  
And should of none but of my Sovereign tell,  
Spite of her heart she could not speak but well;  
For (I suppose) the Truth I must confess.  
That Vanity no Prince ere harboured less  
Than JAMES hath done; unless corrupted stories,  
Rob's former ages of deserved Glories.  
If any say to sooth I now devise,  
His heart I know will tell his tongue he lies,  
For did I not think true what here I Sing,  
I'd not wrong justice for to please the King.  
Great men are vain toe, In much se●king Fames,  
With Nimrod and his Mates; they raise their Names  
By building Babel's; yea and they suppose,  
Honour consists in Titles and in shows.  
They Thrasolike in Parasites delight,  
That do in presence claw, in absence bite.  
They use their Pleasures not as pleasures now,  
Or Recreations as 'twere fit, but how?  
'Tis all their care, their chief and only joy,  
In satisfying which; they do employ,  
Both wealth and wit and all. if they would take  
Something in hand for recreations sake,  
They are wi●h pleasures so o'recloy● we see,  
It must be that which their affairs should be,  
A wondrous Vanity! And their Care,  
Is for rich raiment and the Curious't fare;  
Pampering their flesh when all is but in vain,  
For Dust it was and shall to Dust again.  
Then since their evils we seem not to see,  
In vain they think that they well thought of be;  
Tush, men their lewdness cease for to repeat,  
Why: cause th' are faultless? no because th' are great●  
But for their vices though now none dare show the, ̄  
Unless they mend another age shall know them;  
And therefore if they count their honours dear,  
Let them be Good as well as Great men hear;  
Let them leave Vanity and not suppose,  
The World will ever blinded be with shows,  
For that great mighty Peer that died so lately,  
Ere while was mighty, powerful, and stately,  
He was most crouched unto and oft implored,  
Yea almost like a Demi-God adored;  
He only (as myself have heard some prate,)  
Was the upholder of the Britain State.  
And all the wit this Kingdom did contain,  
Some thought was harboured in his little brain,  
And had he lived (if all be true men say)  
He might have well been Pater Patriae.  
But now alas he's gone, and all his Fame  
You sees not able to preserve his name  
From foul Reproach; but each one breaks his mind  
Which shows though they winked they were not blind  
In spite of all his Greatness, 'tis well known  
That store of Rhymes, and Libels now are sown  
In his disgrace: But I hear divers say,  
That they are slanders, (than the more knaves they  
That were the Authors) but if so it be,  
He were from those vild imputations free;  
If that his virtue's paid with such a curse,  
What shall they look for that are ten times worse?  
Well Nobles I'll the Court ere long survey,  
And if I find among you such as stray,  
Through Vanity or Pride; unless it be,  
Into some small faults through infirmity,  
If there be no man that dare tax you for't,  
My Muse shall do it e'en to make me sport,  
For though she keep but a plain hobbling form,  
She shall have wit enough to make you storm.  
I will not spare you thus, till death do fet ye,  
But rub you whilst you are alive to fret ye.  
Yet do not think ● mean to blaze your shame,  
In scattered Libels, that shall want a name.  
No; I hate that: I'll tell the ills you do,  
And put my name for witness thereunto.  
Then 'tis but fetching me ad Magistratum,  
And laying to me Scandalum Magnatum,  
Which though you prove not, rather yet then fail,  
You were best hang or clap me into jail  
To stay my tongue; so much you may do to me,  
And that's the worst I know that you can do me.  
But whether runs my over-sawcy Pen?  
There's Vanity, beside in Noblemen.  
The Gentleman, for some repute but Vain,  
Beyond his power oftentimes doth strain,  
Our Yeomen toe that never Arms have borne  
To Gentillize it makes themselves a scorn;  
But their gain's envy, with a greater charge;  
Yet of these fools the Catalogue is large.  
Then ere that lesson be half taken forth,  
They must add Knighthood or 'tis nothing worth:  
Money may get it, therefore many sue it,  
Although with shame and Beggary they ●rue it.  
And Credit they expect in vain thereby,  
For it turns rather to their infamy;  
Because it is bestown without deserts,  
And yet in troth our Knights have done their parts.  
For most have well deserved it, but as how?  
Bravely in field, e'en in a field at Blow.  
But why look we in mere Humanity,  
For that which savours not of Vanity,  
Since Divine matters cannot quite be free,  
But with the same must oft corrupted be?  
Divines, strive not so much for to impart,  
The truest Doctrines as to show their Art:  
The grace their speech more with vain words for sound,  
Then with grave sayings, needful and profound;  
But 'tis a vain thing, wondrous full of shame,  
And in my judgement highly merits blame,  
To paint o'er that whose beauty's never fuller,  
Then when it shines forth in it proper Colour.  
Again they strive what Ceremonies fit  
And best beseems the Church, mean while omit  
More weighty matters; who that's wise would stand,  
Like many wrangling spirits in this land,  
Upon such idle Questions as they know,  
'Tis no great matter on which side they go?  
And such as best in my conceit befits,  
None but unquiet and seditious wits.  
Heeres my Opinion: be they not the chief  
Grounds of Religion, or the same Belief  
Salvation comes by, that men go about  
By their inventions for to bring in doubt,  
So't be not that they touch, (as sure they dare not)  
Let all the rest go which way 'twill I care not,  
Have not our Lawyers many vain delays,  
Unnecessary Writs and idle stays,  
For to prolong men's suits? when they might foil,  
The party faulty e'en with half that coil,  
They'll for their fee relate some pretty tale,  
Like the wise story of old jack i'ith vale,  
Which (if they once have thoroughly begun)  
Undo them quite that tarry till't be done.  
jack Do, Dick Roe with whom you'd ne'er to do,  
they'll bring to help your cause and God knows who  
And for your benefit they can afford,  
Many a foolish senseless idle word.  
Which they ay know will not account as vain,  
Since that 'tis with a Vengeance brings them gain.  
Besides as I suppose their laws they penned,  
In their old peddlers French unto this end  
The Vulgar should no farther knowledge reach,  
Then what shall please their masterships to teach;  
Or else they have the self-fame policy,  
As the Professors of damned Papistry,  
Who Sacred writ in foreign tongues concealed,  
Lest that their knavish tricks should be revealed.  
What can they not in our own language find,  
Words of sufficient force t' express their mind?  
That cannot be denied, but 'tis a trouble,  
So easily to counterfeit and double  
In a known Tongue, when th' other but a few,  
Can understand, but that obstreperous Crew.  
These make the laws almost to none effect,  
Their courses are so wondrous indirect,  
To them they favour they delays can grant,  
Though justice her due expedition want.  
Sometimes upon one matter we may see,  
That sundry judgements shall pronounced be;  
Now there's a motion granted, next day crossed,  
So fee and labour's to no purpose lost:  
And still the Clrent shall be so deluded,  
That when he hope's als done there's nought concluded  
Nay though we hear the utmost sentence past,  
Which by all course of Law should be the last▪  
Why then, I say, (though all seem wholly ended)  
Yet may the Execution be suspended:  
And for some trifle, to the poor man's terror,  
Be called in question by a Writ of Error.  
So that the right oft yields unto the stronger,  
When poor men's purses can hold out no longer.  
Oh miserable state! what should we say?  
May not the Country think themselves a prey  
These Ravens live on? May we not suppose,  
By their delays, and some such tricks as those,  
They practise only for to cheat and gull;  
And on our ruins fill their gorges full?  
Yes questionless; for they, Themselves do raise,  
Unto this height on other men's decays,  
Not their own Vertu●s; Oh thought be too late,  
Yet let me wish that we had kept the State  
And Simple Innocence we once retained,  
For than we had not of this ill complained,  
Nor yet those movers of sedition known,  
(Now to a mony-headed monster grown.)  
But since that time is past, we may complain,  
Yet must near look to see those days again,  
We have good Laws, but they too, seem in vain,  
Since they according to each Lawyer's brain,  
May be now wrested too and fro to make  
The matter good that he doth undertake;  
I'll say it plainly, and yet not belie them,  
There's few but richmen can have justice by them.  
And pray you judge now, is not that Law vain?  
Which when it is enacted (to restrain,  
Some privilege or custom that hath stood  
As a great hindrance to the public good)  
Should of it Virtue be so slightly guied,  
As by a licence to be disanuld.  
Moreover there be some too much to blame,  
Or penal laws are only laws in vain,  
Made in terrorem tantum, to affright  
And not for execution of the right:  
And I may liken them unto those logs,  
That jupiter threw down to rule the frogs;  
At first they come forth with such thundering terror,  
That we do tremble to commit an error,  
But in a day or two they are so still,  
For aught I see, we may do what we will,  
Unless that we be poor; or some despite us,  
Then peradventure they'll go near to fright us  
A twelvemonth after; if so long they last,  
Twenty to one then all the fury's past.  
Did you but note it you would much admire,  
To see how strictly justices inquire,  
On days of sitting, what Abuses reign,  
How those they threat that slackly do complain,  
How they will rail and fume, and chafe, and storm  
As if all evils they would quite reform  
Within a moment: But things violent  
Cannot you know be long time permanent,  
Nor is their zeal; for surely (God amend it)  
One twice twelve hours will begin and end it.  
But why are they so earnest then? oh know,  
That the small springs within the dales below,  
Glide gently on, until a land-flood fills  
Their empty channels from the higher hills.  
But when they'll swell until they can discharge,  
Their Burdens in some plain to run at large,  
So these low Magistrates, would gladly sleep,  
And their own easy crooked Channels keep;  
But when that any Stream of justice showers,  
And comes down to them from the Higher powers  
Then peradventure they'll grow big a day,  
And justice shall have course the nearest way:  
Yet in a little space she must be fain,  
To run within their winding banks again.  
Some falsely have affirmed Wherefore blind,  
Yet I am sure she knows how to find  
(If that she be disposed for to look,)  
Who gives her daie-workes by her counting books.  
Nay she knows Capon, Turkey, Goose or Swan  
And thee I warrant from another Man  
What ere thou be: But whilst she sees so plain,  
It is no wonder we have laws in vain,  
Also when Officers do undertake  
Their charge at first, Lord what a coil they make  
A drunkard cannot with his capering feet,  
Cut out Indentures, as he walks the street,  
But he's strait stocked for't, or for his offence,  
By fining to the poor he must dispense.  
Then those perhaps that slackly do frequent  
Gods divine Service, somewhat shall be shent;  
And many other goodly deeds they'll do,  
But these grow quickly weary of them toe.  
Again, sometimes comes out a Proclamation,  
Which threatens, on the pain of Confiscation,  
That no Recusant do presume to stay  
Within ten miles o'th' Court from such a day,  
Yet sure 'tis notwithstanding meant, that some  
Should daily to the Presence Chamber come,  
And shroud within a furlong on't or two;  
Some Great-one's may; and so I hope they do,  
And by their own Authority no doubt,  
May keep the rest from danger thereabout,  
Pish, they at such a matter will but scoff  
'Cause they know surely how to put it off.  
Yet I'll not say it is in vain; for why  
The Printer's sometime set on work thereby:  
And 'tis moreover for our satisfaction.  
Who else might think the State were out of action,  
But oh you noble English Senators  
Our kingdoms Guard, and Princes Counsellors  
How can you see your labours so misused?  
Or brook, to have your Sovereign so abused?  
Do you suppose that it deserves no blame,  
To make a Scarecrow of the Regal Name?  
And to erect it on some common stall,  
For to be gazed on, to no end at all?  
Respect it more; and use it not for course  
Or fashions sake; but show it hath some force.  
Pluck out those Vipers that for fear of harm  
Their chilled spirits in your bosoms warm:  
D'ye not perceive their stings? No danger fear yet?  
Oh 'tis apparent let them not shroud near ye?  
For if you do, 'tis doubtless the Conclusion,  
If God prevent not will be your Confusion.  
Yet all (for aught I see) should still remain,  
Were there not some, who (out of zeal to Gain  
More than Religion, or their Country's weal,)  
Their scurvy base conditions do reveal,  
In begging and in rifling of some few;  
But they their own corruptions rather show  
Then redress any. More I here could utter  
But I methinks already hear some mutter,  
As if I should be sure of R●mes great curse:  
But than ●'me sure I shall be ne'er the worse.  
Yea, let them go to Rome, curse, ban, & spare not,  
I'll sit at home and laugh; because I care not,  
But why do I of Laws alone complain,  
Since all Man deals in, is in some sort vain?  
Religion is with Ceremonies stuffed,  
And with vainglory and presumption puffed,  
Now our Almsdeeds and gifts of Charity,  
Are done for show and with hypocrisy.  
Yea, als made vain, for if you would but view  
Our Universities; indeed 'tis true,  
There you may yet see, how that heretofore,  
In better days, hath been erected store  
Of Palaces; (whose curious build are still,  
A fair remembrance of the workmen's skill)  
Which, lest that knowledge in the land should fade,  
Were by the Patrons of good learning made,  
That there the Muses sheltered from the rages  
Of former, present, and succeeding ages  
Might safely live and not beholding be  
To Pyren for his hospitality.  
'Tis also true, there wants not, to sustain  
Their proper needs, nor yet to entertain  
Such as desire knowledge, there's enough;  
The worthy Founders have provided so,  
But of these profits now why make they stay?  
Best sel't, or let some Courtier beg't away.  
For public Gifts are turned to private uses,  
Fair Colleges are full of foul Abuses.  
And their Revenues I account as vain,  
Because they lazy Dunces do maintain,  
Who to themselves do claim the profits, by  
Nothing but witless Seniority.  
Such as save Beard (with reverence be it spoken)  
Of profound learning have nor mark nor token.  
Good Founders dreaming not of these Abuses,  
Gave them at first to charitable uses;  
But we find now all altered, and the dues,  
The which by right upon desert ensues,  
Like Offices in Court, are bought and sold,  
And places may be had, but how? for gold,  
There as elsewhere they now are grown so bad,  
Without Quid dabis nothing can be had,  
'Tis strange to see what Avarice can do,  
But are the Muses taken with it to?  
Oh no? for they esteem such gain a loss,  
And their high Spirits scorn such earthly dross▪  
How then? There are some Cormorants crept in,  
Who in their youth pretended to have been  
Addicted unto knowledge: when alas.  
'tis well seen since that all their purpose was  
To snort in ease; augmenting still their store,  
Till they grow wealthy and their houses poor;  
Fowl drones, whose voices must be hired with money  
starving the Bees, while they devour the honey.  
But oh you Birds of Athens, clear your Hals  
And drive those lazy Hornets from your stalls.  
Through them it is men think you covetous,  
They make your groves and walks grow scandalous,  
But how will you discern them? Marry thus,  
Since they have made themselves notorious  
I'll point them out; And though their heads they shrowded  
As Venus did Aeneas in a cloud,  
I'll so unmask them; if their ears they show  
You shall be able to say, there they go.  
First note them; there are some by Bribes and Fees,  
Can soon pass through two or three Degrees:  
And if they sue for aught are not denied it:  
When better Students must be put beside it.  
Then there be others who their nests to feather,  
Can keep in office nineteen years together,  
Enforcing many unto penury,  
To have wherewith to feed their luxury.  
Note you not some at fifty winter's study,  
That have their wits so thin and brains so muddy,  
They must procure of other men to do,  
The exercises they were called unto?  
And sit there not of Dunces pretty store,  
From Sun to Sun at every tradesman door?  
Huge fat Curmudgeons? tell me, I think no,  
Do Commons of Three halfpences feed them so?  
Or can such puffs so Humberkinlike set,  
Into a Pulpit once in seven year get?  
Sure if they do, their memory's so weak,  
When they come there they know not what to speak,  
Nor are they half so fit if't came to proof.  
To serve for Pastors as to hang at Roof,  
It is no marvel then that blockish rout,  
Retain their places and keep better out,  
For no good Patron that doth Conscience make,  
Will unto them the Charge of souls be take:  
Because if such, the flock of Christ should keep,  
No question they would make but Carion Sheep.  
Then they must stay, yet in their stay they'll be  
A plague unto the University.  
For over and above the mischiefs named  
The vice for which the younger sort is blamed,  
They are most guilty of; for forced to tarry,  
Through want; and by their laws forbid to marry.  
Thence springs it that the Townsmen are reputed,  
Thus by a common voice to be Cornuted:  
For I have known that such have daily been,  
Where younger scholars never durst be seen.  
And all (unless that they have eyes like Moles)  
May see those Foxes use the Badgers holes.  
Nor hath their lewdness in that action stayed,  
But on the place a fouler blemish laid.  
Which here Indeed I do forbear to name,  
Lest it be to the place I love, a shame;  
And for because I fear some spiteful mates,  
May tax them with it that such dealing hates,  
Brought in by them; for who is so impure,  
But he that liveth like an Epicure.  
Oh Mues seek in time to root these weeds,  
That mar your Gardens, and corrupt your seeds,  
And you that are appointed Visitors,  
Who ought for to be strict Inquisitors,  
To search the foul abuses of these Times  
And see them punished Oh! let these my Rhymes  
Move you for to reform this villainy;  
Or let the hate of damned Perjury  
Stir up your zeal these evils to restrain  
If not for love of good for fear of pain:  
Which else (though you set light as at your heel)  
As sure as God is Just, your souls shall feel.  
Do you not see now all the wondrous Cost  
Of worthy Benefactors vainly lost,  
The Lands, Revenues, Customs, Charters, Rents  
Which they have left for divers good intents  
Vainly employed; see the Student poor  
For whom it was ordained stands at the door  
And may not enter, whilst the golden Ass,  
Is quietly admitted for to pass,  
And shroud himself within those sacred gates,  
Which were't not for commodity he hates.  
You sacred Genii that did once attend  
Those well devoted Patrons to their end;  
Although your bodies be entombed in clay,  
Since you survive, because you live for aye;  
Look down on your abused gifts and see, be,  
What odds twixed th' use and your good meanings  
Come and behold how the laborious sits,  
Sharing some hungry Commons, scarce two bits;  
And that but when a double gauday haps  
Full glad alas at other times with scraps;  
While that the Lazy Dunce on dainties feeds;  
Oh come (I say) if you respect your deeds,  
And fright them with some ghastly visions thence,  
They may have more remorse for their offence.  
If I could take on me some monstrous form;  
I'd either make them their bad lives reform,  
Or hare them quick to hell: But I am vain,  
Thus for to invocate, or to complain,  
Because I doubt this fault will near be mended,  
Until all evil with the world be ended.  
Learning is vain too, or so made at least,  
Consider it, I speak it not in jest;  
Do we not see that those who have consumed,  
Half a man's age in Schools, and have assumed  
Degrees of Art, and hourly overlook,  
Many a leaf, many a wiseman's book,  
Still studying to know; fellows that can,  
As they themselves think, put down any man,  
That dares of Predicables to dispute,  
Yea such as can to, if need be, refute  
Known Truths; and that in Metaphysical,  
Much more I think in matters Natural,  
Seem greatly read. Do we not see I say?  
That these from study being ta'en away,  
For some employments in the Public weal,  
A man would be ashamed to reveal  
Their simple carriage? sooner they'll speak Treason,  
Then any thing that shall be law, or Reason.  
Ask their opinions but of this or that,  
they'll tell a Tale they scarcely know of what;  
And at the last you must be well paid,  
With This the Poet, or This Tully said;  
So other men's opinions shall be shown,  
But very seldom any of their own:  
What is't to heap up a great multitude,  
Of words and sayings like a Chaos rude,  
For to be able for to bring in Plato,  
Great Aristotle, with the wiseman Cato:  
And divers more, yet like a blockish Elf,  
Be able to say nought at all himself?  
As if it were all well and he had paid it,  
If he can once say, Such a man hath said it.  
Then by their actions, who gather can  
They have more knowledge than another man?  
Since they do worse absurdities commit,  
Then thee that seem their juniors in wit,  
As if they thought it were enough to know,  
And not with knowledge unto practice go.  
Those may be learned and of learning p●ate,  
But for affairs of Country, or of State  
In my conceit they are as far unfit  
As fools and madmen that have lost their wit;  
And notwithstanding all their studious pain,  
I count their learning and their Knowledge vain▪  
But think not I, hold Knowledge vain to be,  
Or all that in the University,  
mis-spend their Times; untiftting men to deal  
About employments of the Commonweal.  
No; for I ever this account did make,  
That there are those know best to undertake,  
Great Offices; and surely such as have  
Both knowledge and desert: yet shall they save  
But their own credits: Th'other who are known  
To have no gifts of nature of their own,  
For all their knowledge gotten in the Schools,  
Are worse by much odds then unlearned Fools.  
Now thou that wouldst know rightly these men's state  
Go but a while and talk with Coryate  
And thou wilt soon be able to maintain,  
And say with me that Learning's somewhere vain.  
Then if there were ordained no other place,  
Where now-despised-Vertue should have grace,  
She were vain to, and those that loved her best  
Were to be counted vain above the rest.  
For they be sure, of these worldly Crosses,  
And whosoe'er gain, theirs must be the losses,  
justice is wanting so; for if that men  
Commit an ill, the Law gives smart, but when  
They do perform a virtuous deed 'tis hard,  
There's no Law here that gives them a Reward.  
Nay if a man by wrong suspicion be,  
Brought unto any woeful misery.  
If he be wracked and tortured so that Death  
May pleasure him by stopping of his breath:  
And if at last by proofs it doth appear,  
That he of the suspected crime is clear,  
Only he may his life by that means save,  
But shall no other satisfaction have.  
Yea, and he must be glad and well content  
He hath his life for being Innocent:  
Whereof he would full glad have ridden been,  
To scape the torments they had plunged him in,  
'tis mere Injustice, And I say again  
For to be virtuous in this age 'twere vain;  
But that it one day shall rewarded be,  
By heavens chaste justice with eternity.  
I will not here take pains for to reveal  
The vain trades crept into our Commonweal:  
Only I'll say, and so I think will any,  
Would there were less, for such there be too many.  
But I must needesly show their Sympathy,  
Who make their treasures and felicity  
Of things mere frivolous, As Honour, Srength,  
Pleasure, and Wealth, & Beauty, which at length,  
Yea in short time must Fade; Titles wrong placed  
Without desert, are not alone disgraced,  
And lose that reputation of their own,  
But shame them too, on whom they are bestown▪  
What Nobleness of Birth but merely vain,  
Unless that in the lineage there remain,  
Some noble quality? which in them bred,  
They have derived from predecessors dead?  
What's Honour? but e'en Smoke and Idle 〈◊〉▪  
A thing consisting only in a name?  
Which if you take away then you take all,  
(For Alexander's glory was not small,)  
Yet were he nameless, what would then remain,  
For to inherit Honour for his pain,  
Since that his best part from the earth is fled,  
And other though remaining here, now dead?  
Then if that Honour do advantage bring,  
To Soul nor Body, but doth wholly cling  
Unto the name: who Care, or Pains would take  
If he be wise, such Trophirs for to make  
Unto the same, which may enjoyed be,  
By many thousand other men, whilst he  
Rots; and which three men's virtues, I'll maintain,  
Grace not so much as one man's vice shall stain?  
Were't only for a name, that men did well,  
And strove in virtues others to excel,  
What good had Simon the Apostle gained  
More than the wicked Sorcerer obtained?  
And how should we give each of them his fame  
Who living, being two, had but one name?  
Were outward Honour all that virtue got,  
He were a wiseman that esteemed it not.  
But she's the body's comfort till it die,  
And soul's Companion to eternity.  
Vulgar Repute, what is thereby acquired?  
Why is't so glorious, and so much desired?  
But I do chiefly marvel what they meant,  
That have preferred it before their content.  
I hold it vain and wondrous frivolous,  
Extremely foolish, or ridiculous,  
That any man should stand in greater fear,  
What they do unto other men appear  
Then their own consciences; or strive, (poor elves)  
To seem to other, God, when to themselves  
theyare worse than Devils; why, I say, should they  
With vain repute be so much borne away?  
And why boast men of strength that lasts no longer?  
And seeing the brute creatures are far stronger;  
A woman may blind Samson with her charms,  
And little David slay a man at arms,  
For God doth make, as holy Scriptures speak,  
Strong things to be confounded by the weak.  
Then some are vain in pleasures, like to him,  
Who for because he in delights would swim,  
In these his days to please his five brute senses,  
Made twenty hundred crowns one nights expenses▪  
I only cease for to declare his name,  
Lest he should hap to vaunt upon the same.  
But why in Beauty should men glory so?  
As well we may perceive there's many do;  
Since 'tis no better than a fading flower,  
That flourishes, and withers in an hour.  
It could not save the good King David's son  
For being justly by his foes undone;  
Nay, their's scarce any that enjoy the same  
Can keep unto themselves an honest name.  
We see moreover men vainglorious grow,  
In building and apparel; als for show;  
And yet the Prince that's gorgioust in array,  
Must lie as naked as his Groom in clay.  
And though that men to build so curious be,  
How worthy of contempt it is we see,  
In that th' archking of heaven, earth and all,  
Was very well contented with a Stall.  
What mind are they in who suppose to raise,  
By such a vanity an endless praise?  
When as they daily see by observation,  
Time utterly decays the strongest Foundation.  
Where are those wondrous high Pyramids,  
That were admired at in former days?  
And of those huge Colossi what remains?  
(Which to erect now were an endless pains)  
Nothing almost; no scarce his name that spent  
The pain and cost of such a Monument:  
If that be so, how much more vanity,  
Is it to hope for fame's eternity,  
By such sleight trifles whose groundwork needs mending  
Before the roof be brought unto an ending?  
Again some think how e'er their lives they spend  
Yet if they can attain to in the end  
A glorious Funeral, and be interred  
With idle pomp and show, or be preferred  
In a bald Sermon, for some one good deed  
They did the Commonwealth for their own need,  
Or by their own, or friends procurement have  
On their unworthy scarce-deserued grave  
A goodly Epitaph; they think als well;  
Alas poor silly men! what can they tell  
How long 'twill stand, before 't be razed down?  
But say it bide a while, what fair renown,  
Can in a piece of carved Marble be?  
What can a guilded Tomb then profit thee?  
Preserve thy fame? I know it cannot pass,  
The wondrous Heap that once erected was,  
And yet e'en at this day doth now remain  
Not far from Sarum on the Western plain,  
Yet who can say directly, (or what story  
Doth absolutely mention) for whose glory  
That was first founded? or by whom? or why?  
And if a Deed of such great wonder die,  
Dost thou suppose by a few Carved stones,  
Scarcely enough to cover all thy bones  
To be immortal? If thou long to live  
After thy death, why then let Virtue give  
And add that living glory to thy name;  
Let her sound forth the Trumpet of thy fame,  
And it shall last; for she knows how to place it;  
Nor time, nor envy shall have power to raze it.  
I say endeavour to be virtuous here,  
So shall thy sacred memory be dear  
To those that live, and whilst thy Body lies,  
Entombed on earth, thy Soul shall mount the skies.  
But if in pleasure thou hast lived long,  
And took delight in seeking blood and wrong:  
When that the evil day shall come to end thee,  
The curse of the oppressed shall attend thee,  
Thy soul shall pay for't; and the self-same Grave  
Thou for thy Honour didst suppose to have  
Shall be thy Shame; for those that travel by it  
Shall often curse it, yea deride, defy it;  
And to each other say, There doth he lie,  
That acted such, or such a villainy.  
Then why should gay clothes be delighted in,  
Since they are but a badge of our first sin?  
And yet 'tis strange to know how many fashions,  
We borrow now a days from sundry Nations.  
Some, but a few, in Irish trouzes go,  
And they must make it with a codpiece too,  
Some (as the fashion they best like) have chose  
The soruce diminutive neat Frenchman's hose  
Another liked it once but now he'll chop,  
Or changed as we say for the Swissers slop;  
And cause sometimes the fashions we disdain,  
Of Italy, France, netherlands and Spain,  
we'll fetch them farther yet, for by your leaves  
We have Morisco gowns, Barbarian sleeves,  
Polonian shoes, with divers far-fetched trifles,  
Such as the wandering English gallant rifles  
Strange Countries for; Besides our Tailors know,  
How best to set apparel out for show.  
It either shall be gathered, stitched; or laced,  
Else plated, printed, iaged, or cut and raced,  
Or any way according to your will,  
For we have now a days learned much vain skill:  
But note you when these geu-gaves once be made,  
And that this cunning Master of his Trade  
Must bring it home, Then lies all the jest,  
To see when the poor slave hath done his best  
To mend what faults he can (for by his trade,  
He can set right what Nature crooked made)  
When he hath fitted to his power, and tricked,  
Whom he would please; when he hath brushed & picked  
E'en till he sweat again: Yet (though he spies  
Scarce any fault) You Rogue the Gallant cries.  
A plague confound thee; look here how this sits,  
Zounds 'tis a mile too wide; where were thy wits?  
See, this is half too long that half too short,  
'Sbloud I could find in heart to knock thee for't.  
Then for the faults behind he looks in glass,  
Strait raves again and calls his Tailor Ass,  
Villain, and all the Courtlike names he can,  
Why I'll be judged (says he) here by my man,  
If my left shoulder seem yet in his sight,  
For all this bombast half so big's the right.  
How is he served? This day he should have went,  
With such a Lord or Lady into Kent:  
To Hampton Court to morrow comes the Queen,  
And there should he with certain friends have been,  
Now he shall fail. Villain go strait and mend it  
And see with all the speed you can, you send it:  
Or by my sword the Gallant swears he will  
Make thee to wait twice twelu-months with thy Bill  
If e'er he pay thee. Then the other takes it,  
Carries it home again: turns, rubs, and shakes it,  
Lets it lie still an hour or so, and then  
As if 'twere altered bears it back again;  
Then 'tis so fit, our Gallant cannot tell  
That e'er he had Apparel made so well.  
Erewhile, says he, faith I was angered sore,  
Why couldst thou not have done it thus afore▪  
With many gentle speeches in amends,  
And so these two vain fools grow quickly friends,  
What shall Isay of our superfluous fare?  
Our beastly, vain, and too excessive care  
To please the belly? We, that once did feed  
On homely roots and herbs, do now exceed  
The Persian Kings for dainties; In those coats  
A man would think they lived with hay and ●a●es,  
The diet they are grown unto of late,  
Excels the Feasts, that men of high estate  
Had in times past, for there's both flesh and fish,  
With many a dainty new devised dish.  
For bread they can compare with Lords or Knights,  
For they have raveld, manchet, brown and white,  
Of finest wheat: Their drinks are good and stale,  
For Perry, Cider, Mead, Metheglin, Ale,  
Or Beer they have great plenty of; but then  
This cannot serve the richer sort of men.  
They with all sorts of foreign wines are sped;  
Their cellars are oft fraught with white and red,  
Be 't French, Italian, Spanish, if they crave it:  
Nay Grecian or Canarian, they may have it,  
Catepument, Veruage, if they do desire,  
Or Romney, Bastard, Capricke, Oley, Tire,  
Muscadel, Malmsey, Clarey, what they will;  
Both head and belly each may have their fill.  
Then if their stomachs do disdain to eat,  
Beef, Mutton, Lamb, or such like Butcher's meat;  
If that they cannot feed on Capon, Swan,  
Duck, Goose, or common household Poultry; than  
Their storehouse will not very often fail,  
To yield them Partridge, Pheasant, Plover, Quail,  
Or any dainty fowl that may delight,  
Their gluttonous and beastly appetite.  
So they are pampered whilst the poor man starves,  
Yet there's not all, for Custards, Tarts, Conserves,  
Must follow to; And yet they are no let  
For Suckets, Marchpanes, nor for Marmalet.  
Fruit, Florentines▪ sweet sugar meats and spice,  
With many an other idle fond devise,  
Such as I cannot name, nor care to know;  
And then besides the taste 'tis made for show,  
For they must have it culloured, guilded, Printed,  
With shapes of Beasts & Fowls, cut, pinched, indented,  
So idly that in my conceit 'tis plain,  
That men are foolish and exceeding vain,  
And howsoever they of Religion boast,  
Their belly is the God they honour most.  
But see whereto this dainty time hath brought us,  
The time hath been that if a Famine caught us,  
And left us neither Sheep, nor Ox, nor Corn,  
Yet unto such a diet were we borne,  
Were we not in our Towns kept in byth' foe,  
The woods and fields had yielded us enough  
To content Nature: And then in our needs  
Had we found either leaves, or grass, or weeds,  
We could have lived, as now at this day can  
Many a fellow-subiect Iris●man.  
But in this age, if only Wheat do rise  
To any extraordinary prize:  
Of if that we have Cheese or Butter scant,  
Though almost nothing else that is, we want;  
Lord how we murmur, grumble, fret and pine,  
As if we would upbraid the powers Divine;  
Yea we provoke God, as sometime the jews  
Did Moses; and with us it is no news.  
But you that are so like to starve in plenties,  
Because you are a little barred your dainties,  
Leave of your Luxury; let me entreat;  
Or there will come a Famine shall be great:  
When Soul nor Body neither, shall have food,  
Or any thing to comfort them that's good.  
We talk of scarcity: yet here there came  
No want this twenty ages, worth the name  
Of Famine; but our gentle God hath been,  
Exceeding merciful unto our sin.  
Wheat at ten shillings, makes no dearth of bread,  
Like theirs; where once (we read) an Ass' head,  
Cost fourscore silver pieces; where Doves dung,  
Was highly prized: and mothers eat their young;  
There famine reigned. Pray in the like we fall not;  
If we can fast with Ninive we shall not.  
But truly much I fear the same, unless  
We do leave off our gluttonous excess,  
For though we quaff and swill much time away,  
Yet three set Meals will scarce suffice a day  
To satisfy our lust; whereas but one,  
Sufficed our predecessors, sometime none.  
It were a work too tedious to quote  
The sundry vanities that we may note  
Sprung from this Greediness, as our Long-sitting,  
A custom rather in my mind befitting  
Pagans and Epicures, then honest men.  
But 'tis a use now common grown; and then  
This Foolery we have; we nothing deem  
Worthy of our desire, or esteem,  
Save that which we have either dearly bought,  
Or faraway from foreign kingdoms brought:  
Yea notwithstanding here in our land,  
Those things be better; and more near at hand.  
Yet we out of an idle humour are,  
Much more affected to all Foreign ware  
Then to our own: although the same be best.  
So that this vainness doth not only rest  
In meats, and in apparel; but 'tis shown  
In many things; we lest affect our own.  
Our home-made Cloth, now quoddam est inanum,  
We are for Serges and Perpetnanum;  
With other stuff, as Crow-graine, Chamblets, Rash.  
And such like new devised foreign trash.  
Yea though our native countrymen excel  
In any Trade, we like them not so well  
As we do strangers: (and in very deed)  
I think for vain inventions they exceed.  
And then moreover when we do not want  
Any good wholesome herb, or fruit, or plant,  
That may be necessary, fit or good,  
Either to serve for Physic or for food,  
Yet those we leave, as if we did abhor them,  
And send to seek in other Kingdoms for them.  
So while we only make our use of them,  
Our better homebred Simples we contemn.  
(Oh Vanity) our country yields enough,  
What need we Grecian or Arabian stuff?  
Why send we for them to those Countries thus?  
'Twas planted there for them and not for us:  
What though it help them of diseases there?  
The Climate, yea, and our complexions are  
So different, for aught that I can gather,  
Here 't may not help our griefs, but poison's rather.  
Myself have heard some travelers to say,  
That which will salve their wounds within a day,  
That of the farthest Eastern Countries be,  
Will not recure an Englishman in three.  
Then sure if we should use that medicine here,  
It would not help nor cure us in a year.  
Trust me I think, this overmuch respecting  
Of Foreign Compounds, and the still neglecting  
Of our own Simples is the cause that we  
So little better for our Physic be;  
Some in their writings praise Tobacco much,  
Perhaps the virtue of it may be such  
As they have said, where first the simple grew,  
But if it be replanted here a new,  
From it own soil where nature's hand did place it,  
I dare not with those properties to grace it  
Which there it had; nor can the Virtue bide  
When 'tis transported to our region, dried.  
Yet almost 'tis a wonder to behold,  
How generally now both young and old  
Suck on that foreign weed: for so they use it,  
Or rather (to speak right) so they abuse it,  
In too oft taking, that a man would think  
It were more needful than their meat or drink▪  
But what's their reason? do not ask them why,  
For neither can they tell you that, nor I:  
Unless 't be this: So they have seen some do  
Forsooth, and therefore they must use it too.  
Nay, wonder not; The Sun lights not a Nation  
That more addicteth Apish imitation  
Then do we English: Should a stranger come  
And wear his doublet fastened to his Bum:  
Pluck gloves on's feet, & put his hands in's shoes,  
And we are his Rings and jewels on his toes.  
And come so tired to our English Court,  
Attended in some strange preposterous sort;  
Most of our Courtiers would make much ado,  
But they would get into that fashion too.  
For when they did but happen for to see,  
Those that with Rheum a little troubled be,  
Wear on their faces a round mastic patch,  
Their fondness I perceived, sometime to catch  
That for a Fashion. Nay, we cannot name  
That thing so full of Barbarism and shame  
That they'll not imitate: witness this smoke,  
Which though at first it was enough to choke  
Or stifle up the sense; though 'twere unpleasing  
In taste and savour, oftentimes diseasing  
The takers bodies; yet like men half mad,  
Not knowing neither what effect it had,  
Only because a rude and savage Nation,  
Took't for some unknown need; they'll make't a fashion,  
Alas what profit England at thy need,  
Hast thou attained to, by this Indian weed?  
What hath it lengthened life or maintained health  
Or hath it brought thee more increase of wealth?  
It dries superfluous moistures; dothed? indeed  
Ta'en with discretion it may stand instead,  
And surely it deserves to be excused,  
Being with honest moderation used.  
But I do greatly wonder what they meant,  
That first did take't in way of complement.  
For now it is as common at each meeting,  
As how d' ye, or, God save ye for a greeting;  
he's no good fellow that's without the Pox,  
burnt pipes, Tobacco, and his Tinderboxe:  
And therefore there be some who scarce abide it,  
Yet always will for company provide it;  
With whom (though they alone the same eschew)  
they'll take it till they spit and cough and spew.  
Me thinks they may as well since this they'll do,  
At all their meetings take Purgations too.  
There's not a Tinker, Cobbler, shepherd now  
Or Rascal Ragamuffin that knows how  
In a blind Alehouse for to drink a pot,  
Or swagger kindly, if he have it not;  
You shall have some among them will not stick,  
To swear that they are for Tobacco sick;  
When by their ragged outsides you would gather,  
It were for want of bread and victuals rather;  
And so I take't; But now if you deny,  
Th' Affecting foreign drugs, a Vanity,  
Yet you, I hope will grant, (because 'tis plain)  
The using of Tobacco thus is vain.  
I mean in those that daily sit and smoke,  
Alehouse and Tavern till the windows roke.  
And you must yield if ever; Quod nunc sumus,  
E'en as the old verse says, flos, foenum, fumus,  
Some vainly much acquaintance seek to get,  
And often in a stranger's cause will sweat.  
When none (unless some one for rarity)  
Will to their Kin show love or charity.  
The love of men some strive for to attain,  
And they have just their labour for their pain▪  
For what's the favour or the love of Men?  
A thing long getting and soon lost again,  
For him I know whose company hath seemed,  
In my poor judgement to be so esteemed  
By many, that in show he hath appeared  
To be more nearly to their souls endeared  
Then their own brothers; And sure for the time,  
(But that inconancie's a human crime)  
He hath been so; For when he hath departed,  
As if his absence inwardly had smarted;  
Out of their eyes full oft against their will,  
I have seen, sorrow look, and tears to trill.  
And yet again hath my experience seen,  
The self-same man that hath so made of been,  
Even of those men he hath been so respected,  
After some absence either much neglected,  
Wholly forgotten or they so estranged,  
As if their love and good conceit were changed.  
Which having found, I weighed well the end,  
And thought them vain that on the like depend.  
Also methinks it makes me pretty sport,  
To note the Vainness of the greater sort;  
How full of Congees, courtesies, and greetings,  
Embracements, & kind words they be at meetings.  
Or else what Memorandums passed between,  
Of great good turns that near perhaps have been,  
What commendations, and joys there be,  
For one another's good prosperity.  
When howsoever they their malice smother,  
They care not what becomes of one another.  
To see me well, he's glad at heart, one cries,  
When 'tis well known that in his heart he lies,  
Another bids me welcome to my face,  
When he would leave my presence for my place.  
Yea and to swear it too he will not tremble,  
Although he knows, I know he doth dissemble:  
Which in my judgement is a Vanity,  
Too full of shameless gross absurdity,  
And I much wonder men delight to spend  
Time that's so precious to so little end,  
As to consum't in idle Complement,  
And not so much as to a good intent;  
Crouching and kneeling, when each peasant knows  
Much courtesy, much craft: the proverb goes.  
A quality beseeming men I deem't,  
For to be Courteous and I much esteemed,  
Yet sure without good meaning 'tis unfit,  
And extreme vain when men are cloyed with it.  
When some man's Table's furnished with store,  
Of Dainties, that a Prince can have no more,  
he'll bid you welcome, though that by your cheer,  
It doth not (as he'll say himself) appear,  
And yet he sees and knows well that his Boards,  
Have what the Water, Earth, and Air affords:  
With prey d'ye eat, I drink t'ye, nay be merry;  
And such like words; I oft have been as weary  
To thank, to pledge, and say I do not spare,  
As ere was summers of his trotting mare,  
But now I think of this, I'll without jesting,  
Tell one absurdity l've seen in feasting,  
Amongst my Countrymen; when one intends  
For to be merry he bids home his friends,  
And for them all things needful doth prepare,  
That they may well perceive they welcome are;  
Yea, he would have them frolic, and 'tis good,  
A sign of love and honest neighbourhood,  
But then with all he oftentimes invites,  
Some lofty Statesmen or proud neighbouring knights  
Who all their merriment doth overthrow,  
Because they look for reverence you know,  
And he must be a slave unto that guest,  
Contenting him, though he displease the rest.  
Now that's his fault, were I as he, my Board,  
Should never entertain that Knight or Lord  
In way of feasting; that allowed not me,  
To be as merry and as blithe as he;  
Or that through his disdain would think amiss,  
To bear some jests of mine as I bear his;  
For who but fools would while their guest is baiting  
Stand with bare heads like Alehouse-keepers waiting  
(As if they were some strangers wanted cheering)  
In their own houses? while they domineering  
Say what they list; be therefore ruled by me,  
Bid none but equals if you'll merry be:  
At least let them be such as can abide,  
To lay Superiority aside.  
Moreover (if they have the providence  
To bid their friends & keep these mar-feasts thence)  
They are too lavish and do much devise,  
How they the appetite may best suffice.  
But 'tis a sign their understanding's weak,  
And they have small good matter for to speak;  
It shows a shallow pate and muddy brain,  
When men have no discourse to entertain  
Their friends withal, but whiffs of smoke or drink,  
Or curious fare; as if that they did think  
They could not show their honest love, unless  
They did abound in gluttonous excess.  
But there be many greedy-guts indeed,  
That will find fault unless their cates exceed.  
Such Socrates shows how to answer best,  
Who having for his friends prepared a feast,  
And hearing one to discommend his store  
Told him directly, friend there needs no more,  
For be they virtuous here's enough for such,  
If otherwise (quoth he) there is too much  
A fitter answer we can never find,  
For such nice gluttons; differing in mind  
From certain dear and learned friends of mine:  
Whom, when I late requested for to dine  
Or sup with me one night; would not agree,  
Unless I dressed that they appointed me:  
I will said I, and not a bit beside,  
Why then (quoth they) we charge thee to provide  
One dish, no more, we love not him that crams,  
And let our second course be Epigrams.  
Well, that they had with more good mirth & laughing,  
Then those that had their dainties, & their quaffing,  
Who can declare that Vanity man shows,  
In hearing and reporting idle news?  
The foolish tales, and lies that he doth feign,  
Are more than any numbers can contain.  
And now I think on that same lying evil,  
A mischief first invented by the devil,  
I cannot choose but greatly wonder why,  
Men should delight so in that Vanity.  
It is not only vicious and base,  
But also doth their credits quite deface.  
And truth out of their mouthe● is mis-esteemed  
Because, oft lying, they are liars deemed.  
I mean not any falsehood to maintain,  
No though they be officious, or for gain.  
Yet worst like them, who their wits bo bend  
To invent tales unto no other end.  
But for to find the company some talk,  
And cause they love to hear their own tongues walk  
Some I have known (judge of their Vanity)  
They have told tales to their own infamy;  
And yet untrue, 'tis like they have small care  
Of others credits when they will not spare  
To wrong themselves: Another crew beside  
Among these ly●rs I have also spied,  
Who, as it may appear, do like so well,  
Strange news, and matters past belief to tell,  
That notwithstanding they do surely know,  
It makes not only modest ears to glow,  
But that 'tis known they lie, yet still they dare  
'Gainst Truth, their own, & all men's knowledge swear.  
Yea, when they may aswell, and speak as right,  
Swear that each man is blind, and all Crows white  
Oh too presumptuous and lewd offence  
Sprung from a brazen, ●ellish impudence!  
Then there's a number to, that do suppose,  
All that beyond their little reason grows,  
Is surely false; And vainly do uphold  
That all reports which travelers unfold  
Of foreign lands are lies; because they see  
No such strange things in their own parish be,  
If that I may not term such fellows vain,  
I'll say theyare dull and of a shallow brain.  
And him I count no wiseman that imparts,  
To men of such base misconceiving hearts  
Any rare matter, for their brutish wit,  
Will very quickly wrong both him and it.  
For thus the saying goes, and I hold so,  
Ignorance only, is true wisdoms foe.  
Then thou art vain that wilt vouchsafe to spend  
Thy breath, with witless fools for to contend  
In weighty matters; when it is well known  
they'll like of no opinions but their own.  
Ever disabling what thou dost recite,  
Yea notwithstanding it be ne'er so right.  
And be their own case false, and all amiss,  
They'll prove it true; How? Thus: Because it is.  
So if there be no more wise men in place,  
Thou bearest the shame, & they'll have all the grace.  
And yet the mischief hath not there an end,  
For tell me, you that ever did contend  
With such; is not their wayward disputation  
A mere confusion and a strong vexation?  
I know 'tis so; for I myself have tried it,  
And since that time could never yet abide it;  
But let those follow Vanity together  
With purblind ignorance; and I'll send thither  
To keep them company, those that take pleasure  
In tedious discourse, they be at leisure,  
And those that love to hear their own tongue's walk  
Or still seek out occasion for to talk  
Shall not stray from them: Yet I have beheld  
More Vanities which must not be concealed.  
As foolish wishes: Many a silly Ass,  
Covets those things that cannot come to pass.  
Another that in wishing is as heedless,  
Desires some trifling babbles which are needless.  
Nay, I have heard, without regard of shame,  
Such beastly wishes as I blush to name,  
What damned infernal curses can each brother,  
In every angry fit wish one another?  
When such as these their jesting words theine make ye  
A Pox, a Pestilence and a Murrain take ye.  
Which if the Lord should in his justice send them,  
Their own vain wishes would e'er long time and them.  
Some freeborn men I have observed too  
Who are thought wise, yet very vainly do.  
These, as if they lacked troubles of their own  
For other men are slaves and drudges grown.  
I tax not such as honestly have stood  
In the mainetaining a poor neighbours good.  
But rather those who are so out of measure  
Given to be for other men at leisure:  
That they can find almost no time to be  
Employed about their own commodity.  
Others there are, more knavish, and as vain,  
Who seeming careful of an others gain,  
Intrude themselves into their actions; when  
'Tis not for any good they wish the men,  
But for this cause, and sure for nothing more,  
In each man's boat they love to have an oar.  
'Tis good men look to their affairs, but yet,  
I hold it for a vain thing, and unfit  
They should be vexed with such extreme care  
In following them as I perceive they are:  
For unto me it seems, the greatest part.  
Take business not in hand now, but in heart.  
What mean our wealthy Usurers to hoard  
More up for others than they can afford  
Unto themselves? whereas they do not know  
Whether it shall be for a friend or foe.  
Sure such me thinks should be deservedly,  
Recorded for their sottish Vanity.  
Now as these too well, of the world do deem,  
So others make thereof too small esteem:  
As of a thing whose use were of no weight,  
But both are led away with Vain conceit.  
Then some man's care is, that when this life ends,  
He dying, may be buried with his friends.  
As if he feared his foes had not forgotten  
To do him mischief though their bones were rotten  
Others extremely are distempered  
To think what men will do when they be dead.  
And vainly sit, (More wit God one day send)  
Lamenting what they know not how to mend.  
For worthless matters some are wondrous sad,  
Whom if I call not vain, I must term mad.  
If that their noses bleed some certain drops:  
And then again upon the sudden stops.  
Or if the babbling foul we call a jay,  
A Squirrel or a Hare, but cross the way.  
Or if the salt fall toward them at table,  
Or any such like superstitious babble,  
Their mirth is spoiled, because they hold it true  
That some mischance must thereupon ensue.  
But I do know no little numbers be  
Seduced with this foolish Vanity:  
And questionless although I discommend it,  
There wants not some that stoutly will defend it,  
But all their proof is only this, I know  
By daily trial they do find it so.  
Indeed 'tis true, God often by permission,  
To see if they will trust to superstition  
More than to him, doth willingly supply,  
What they so looked for by their Augury.  
Then some for to be deemed men of State,  
Of nothing but the Court-affaires do prate,  
If they but come amongst us Countrymen,  
Lord what Magnificoes they will be then.  
Yea though they blow but the King's Organ-●ellows  
We must suppose them Earls and Barons fellows  
Or else we wrong them: 'Twas my chance to light,  
In a friend's house, where one of these that night  
took up his lodging; At the first I deemed him  
A man of some great place and so esteemed him;  
And be took me for some soft Country gull,  
Thinking my wit (as 'tis indeed) but dull,  
But I perceived his pride, I must confess,  
And seemed as If I had a great deal less.  
I made him more fine congees by a score,  
Then ere he had at Court in's life before,  
The worship, and the Honour too I gave him,  
But from the charge of either I dare save him.  
Yet my high terms so pleased the Courtiers vain,  
That up he rips me news of Fra●ce and Spain,  
Of Germany, of Denmark, and of Sweed;  
And he had French store, thereof I took heed,  
Than next he tells me all their life at Court,  
Relates St. George's shows and Christmas sport,  
With such like talk; which I in show desired,  
And (as if I had never seen't before) admired:  
Which he perceiving falls for to devise,  
More strange reports, and tells me sundry lies,  
Which still I wondered at; and in his talk  
I noted though his tongue did ever walk  
He never spoke of others than the best,  
For Earls, and Lords, and Ladies were the least  
I heard him mentioning; when sure the fool,  
Is but some servant to the Groom o'th' stool.  
But howsoever for this once he passes,  
To show the Nature of his fellow-Asses,  
I am afraid 'twill be to little end,  
If I should words and precious leisure spend,  
To tell our Gallants what vain, frivolous,  
Discourse they have, and how ridiculous  
They are at meetings; I have been for laughter,  
Often beholding to them a week after.  
And trust me I'll not give a cue so soon,  
To see an Ape, a Monkey, or Baboon  
Play his forced tricks, as I would give a tester,  
To come and view them and their apish gesture,  
When they are either frolic in their Cans,  
Or courting of their light he'd Courtesans  
They think themselves fine men, I know they do,  
What will they give me and I'll think so to,  
And yet I shall not sure, do what I can,  
They have so little in them that is man.  
For my few years hath noted many fruits  
Producted in fine silks and satin suits  
Worth observation: I could recite,  
Their brave behaviour in their Mistress sight:  
But sure they'll near endure't, they cannot do't,  
Yet if I list now I could force them to't,  
But I spare them; they are beholding to me,  
And may perhaps as great a favour do me.  
But faith I may not, nor I cannot hold  
Nor keep in all their vanities untoled:  
At least one humorous trick I must not miss,  
Which lately I observed; and that was this.  
Two lads, of late, disposed to be merry,  
Met at a Town not far from Canterbury,  
Where though their business scarce would let them stay,  
They'd frolic out a night, and then away;  
So there they supped and slept, where I let pass  
To tell their mirth in what good fashion 'twas:  
But as I heard the parish clock struck one,  
Before their merry-mad-conceits were done:  
And then they went to bed, where I dare say  
They'd more devotion for to sleep then pray.  
Next morn th' one awaking suddenly upstart,  
And lightly girt out such a boisterous—  
It waked his fellow, who surprised with wonder,  
Leapt up amazed and swore he heard it thunder:  
And where there was a storm or no, 'twas said,  
The chamber-pot o'erflowed and drowned the bed.  
Then having prayed a curse or two, th' one rises,  
Yea, of his business with himself devices,  
And thereupon like a considerete man,  
Swears he will thence with all the speed he can,  
Come prithee rise (quoth he) and le's begun,  
Why go (quoth th' other) I will come anon,  
Zonnds hark, I think the clock strikes eight, why when?  
Oh soon: enough to breaks my fast by ten.  
Then Chamberlain one calls aloud, dost hear?  
Come bring us up a double jug of beer.  
So either having drunk a good carouse,  
Down come the Gallants to discharge the house,  
But taking leave, oh what d' ye think they missed?  
Their Hostess (pretty woman must be kissed)  
Then up she's called, and in her night attire,  
Down claps she on a stool before the fire;  
Where having bid her welcome from her nest,  
Come say (quoth he) what Wine is't you like best?  
Truly (quoth she) I use to drink no wine,  
Yet your best morning's draft is muscadine:  
With that the Drawer's called to fill a quart  
(Oh! 'tis a wholesome liquor next the heart.)  
And having drunk it, whilst their heads were steady  
They bade the Ostler make their horses ready  
Nay (quoth the Hostess) what needs all this haste?  
In faith you shall not go till dinner's passed;  
I have a dish prepared for the none's  
Arich Potato Pie, and Marrow-boxes;  
Yea and a bit which Gallants, I protest,  
I will not part with unto every guest;  
With that the Punies laid aside their cloaks,  
The glasses walk, and the Tobacco smokes,  
Till dinner comes, with which when they are fraught  
To get on horseback by and by 'tis nought.  
As having supt'ts good to walk a mile,  
So after d●nner men must sit a while.  
But what? will they sit idle 'twere a shame,  
Reach them the Tables, they must play a game:  
Yet set them by again, for now I think  
They know not when to leave, they'll rather drink  
A health or two, to some especial friend,  
And then i'faith they mean to make an end,  
Then one calls Drawer, he cries What d' ye lack?  
Rogue bring us up a Gallon more of sack,  
When that's turned up, Zounds one will drink no more,  
But bids the Ostler bring his horse to door:  
The fellow might perform it without stay,  
For why? they had been bridled up all day.  
Then like good husbands without any words.  
On went their cloaks, but first of all their swords,  
But stepping out of door their Hosts meets them,  
And with a full filled bowl demurely greets them.  
This was her pint, but they'll give her the tother,  
Which drew the third down and the third another,  
Until these Gallants felt their heads so addle,  
Their bodies scarce could sit upright it'h saddle.  
Then for to settle their unsteady brain,  
They fell to their Tobacco once again;  
At which they sucked so long, they thought no more  
Of the poor jades, which they left tied at door▪  
Till that the Sun declined unto the West,  
Then starting up th' one swore he thought 'twere best,  
That they went thence; and to his fellow said;  
Come we shall be benighted I'm afraid,  
What if we be (quoth other) by this light,  
I know the time when I have rod all night.  
By twelve a clock I'll be at home I vow,  
Yet Hostess, by this kiss, I'll sup with you.  
And so they did, but after supper th' one,  
Hastens the other that they may be gone;  
Nay be advised (quoth his copesmate) hark,  
Let's stay all night for it grows pestilence dark.  
I marry (quoth the Host) persuaded be,  
There's many Murders now I promise ye.  
I'll bid my servants to shut up the gate,  
No guest shall go out of my house so late.  
No surely (quoth their Hostess) by S. Anne,  
You may be mischieft, stay and make a man.  
Well, they'll be ruled for once, but swear they'll go  
The following morning ere the cock do crow.  
Introth at farthest, ere the day gives light,  
Then having kissed their Hostess overnight,  
To bed again these roystering youngsters went,  
Forgetting whereto they before were bend.  
But when the Morn her turn again did take,  
And that it grew high time for them to wake;  
Then up they busteld and began to lay  
The fault from one to the other, of their stay.  
For this (the first said) we may thank your sl●th,  
(But I think therein they were guilty both)  
Nay (quoth the other) might you have your will▪  
You'd drink Tobacco, and be quaffing stildl  
Who I (quoth he) I weigh it not two chips,  
I could not get you from my Hostestesse lips.  
You do me wrong (said th' other) for I swear,  
I seldom touched them, but you still hung there.  
To bear the burden he grew discontent,  
And swore he would not drink before he went.  
But called, Our horse's Ostler quickly, and our wands,  
And sirrah Tapster water for our hands:  
(Quoth the other) you'll be ruled yet I think?  
Prithee let me entreat thee for to drink.  
Before th●u wash; Our fathers that were wise,  
Were wont to say, 'tis wholesome for the eyes.  
Well he will drink, yet but a draft at most,  
That must be spiced with a nutbrown tossed.  
But than 'twere good they had a bit beside,  
For they considered they had far to ride.  
So he that would not drink, a late for haste,  
Is now content to stay and break his fast.  
Which e'er 'twere ended, up their Host was got,  
And then the drunkard needs must have his pot,  
And so he had: but I commend my cousin,  
The Cuckolds one Can, cost the fools a dozen.  
But then perceiving they began to stay,  
Quoth Guts, my bullies, hark ye, what d' ye say?  
Can you this morning on a rasher feed?  
Oh yes say they, that's Kingly meat indeed;  
They asked it, and they had it; but this cheer,  
Quickly drew down a dozen more of beer;  
Which being drunk, they had got out of Town,  
But that their Hostess was now new come down,  
With whom they spent ere they could get away  
In kissing and in quaffing half that day.  
And five times as I heard they took the pain,  
To get on horseback and come off again  
But at the last just as the clock struck two,  
They were the sixth time horsed with much ado:  
But then, as 'tis the drunkard's use, they sat  
Tippling some hour and a half at gate.  
So that the night drew on apace and then,  
Thither came riding other Gentlemen.  
And meant to lodge there; they had friendship shown.  
T' other were stale Guests and their money flown.  
Their honest Host for all their large expense,  
And former kindness, quickly got him thence:  
Yea their sweet Hostess that so worthy deemed them,  
Slunk out of sight, as if she nought esteemed them.  
And as most will, except a very few,  
She left her old Gulls to enter league with new,  
Who at their parting thought for to have kissed her,  
But were so drunken that they ever missed her.  
For there they quaffed so long they did not know,  
Which way, nor whether, nor yet when to go.  
That some suppose, yea and they think so still,  
Their horses brought them thence against their will.  
For if so be that they had wanted wit,  
(To come themselves) the fools had been there yet  
If you 'twas made by, read with discontent,  
You are too blame, none knows by whom 'twas meant  
There is no cause you should dislike my Rhyme,  
That learns you wit against another time.  
When others are thus vain, could you forbear it;  
And note the follies in 't, you would forswear it;  
As kind's your Hostess seems, yet this is plain,  
she'll flout, and use the next as well for gain.  
Now what do you unto these Gallants say,  
Were they not pretty witty ones I pray?  
It may be they will frown at this, 'twere fit,  
And I am very sorry for't; but yet,  
One humour more which I have noted vain,  
For to be told of, they must not disdain.  
It may annoy them if they do not mend it,  
Yea notwithstanding they so much defend it,  
'Tis this; they too much of their valour vaunt,  
And so extremely for vainglory haunt,  
That for to get themselves a valiant name,  
Or peradventure half an hours fame  
they'll hazard life and limb, yea soul and all,  
Rather than in their bravery they'll let fall  
That vain Repute: Oh silly senseless men!  
What will the breath of fame avail you, when  
You lie in dust and moulded up in clay?  
Perhaps you shall be spoken of a day,  
In some poor village where your bodies lie,  
To all the earth besides your fame shall die.  
And it may be whereas you look for glory,  
You shall but serve for to make up the story  
Of harebrained fools: so how soe'er some deem you  
Men that have understanding will esteem you.  
But yet there is a crew that much annoys  
The Commonweal, some call them Roaring-Boys  
London doth harbour many at this time,  
And now I think their Orders in the Prime:  
And flourishing estate. divers are proud,  
To be one of that Brotherhood aloud.  
And reason too, for why they are indeed  
No common fellows, but they all exceed.  
They do; but oh! Now wherein is it think ye?  
In villainies; for these be they will drink ye  
From morn till night, from night till more again,  
Emptying themselves like Conduits, and remain,  
Ready for more still: Earth drinks not the showers,  
Faster than their infernal throat devours,  
Wine and strong liquors: These be they will swear,  
As if they would the veil of heaven tear,  
And compel God to hear their blasphemy  
These are the Patrons of all villainy;  
Whores Champions; Deceit and treachery,  
With the most loathsome vice of lechery,  
Is all their practice. Thunder when it roars,  
joined with the raging waves that beat the shores,  
Together with the winds most rude intrusion,  
Make not a noise more full of mad confusion,  
Then do these hellhounds where they use to houze  
Or make their most uncivil rendezvous:  
For a more Godless crew their cannot well,  
Be picked out of the boundless pit of hell.  
Yet these base fellows (whom I must confess,  
I cannot find words able to express)  
Are great men's darlings, (As some understand)  
The absolutest Gallants in this land,  
And only men of spirit of our time;  
But this opinion but a vulgar crime,  
For they which understanding have, see plain,  
That these and all their favourites are vain.  
And sure 'twere good if such were forced to give,  
A strict account by whom and how they live.  
Thus have I brought to light as well's I can,  
Some of the Vanities I've seen in man.  
But I do fear in taking so much pain,  
I have but shown myself to be most vain;  
Because I have spent time, and reprehended  
That which will ne'er the sooner be amended,  
But yet there's hope it may, and therefore I  
Will say thus much more; that this Vanity  
Consisteth not alone in words and works,  
It hath ta'en root within, and also lurks  
About the heart; and if it there be sought,  
I know it also may be found in thought,  
And that it is makes one man sit and plot,  
What is by traffic with Virginea got.  
What it may cost to furnish him a fleet,  
That shall with all the Spanish Navy meet,  
Or how he may by Art or practice find  
A nearer passage to the Eastern Ind.  
When as perhaps (poor fool) besides his coat,  
He is, not worth a Portsmouth passage boat,  
Nor never means to travel so much sea,  
As from High-ferry to South-hamp on-key.  
Another woodcock is as fond vain,  
And to no purpose doth molest his brain,  
To study if he were a Nobleman,  
What kind of carriage would befit him than:  
How, and in what set words he would complain,  
Of the abuses that he now sees reign:  
Where he would make his place of residence,  
How he would keep his house with Providence,  
And yet what plenty daily at his door,  
Should be distributed unto the poor,  
What certain Sheep, and Oxen should be slain,  
And what provision weekly to maintain  
His Lordly port; How many serving-men,  
He meant to keep, and peradventure then,  
What pleasure he will have, as hawks and hounds,  
What game he will preserve about his grounds:  
Or else he falls to cast what profits clear,  
His gifts and bribes will come to in a year.  
How he'll put off his hat, cause people than  
Shall say he is a courteous Nobleman.  
Then upon this again he falls to plot,  
How when that he the people's love had ' got,  
If that the King and all his kindred die,  
And if none may be found for to supply  
That Regal office, the respect they bear him,  
Unto that Princely dignity may rear him:  
Then too his thoughts, on that estate so feed,  
That he forgets quite what he is indeed,  
And if a man could hit so just a time,  
To come upon him when his thoughts in Prime:  
And give him unawares a sudden knock;  
Conceit his understanding so would lock,  
That I suppose because it stands with reason,  
He would go near hand for to call out, Treason:  
For oftentimes men's hearts are so annoyed,  
With those vain thoughts whereon they are employed,  
That for a time they so forgetful grow,  
Nor what they are, nor where, they do not know,  
But now since you may see there doth remain,  
Nothing in man but is in some sort vain;  
And since I must be driven to confess,  
His vanities are great and numberless,  
I'll go no farther in this large Survey,  
For fear Discourse should carry me away;  
And peradventure so I may become,  
Less pleasing, and more tedious to some;  
Which to avoid, though I no end espy,  
Yet hear I end to treat of Vanity.   

OF IN CONSTANCY.  
SATYR. 2.  
YEt there's another property in men,  
That means to set my Muse to work again,  
In constancy, and that no other is,  
Unless I understand the same amiss,  
But an unsettled humour of the mind,  
Which so unstable is it cannot find  
By any study that Opinion,  
Of which it dares to be resolved on.  
'Tis mere Irresolution and Estranging  
For what is purposed by a fickle changing.  
But since this vice I mean for to detect,  
Women I know will earnestly expect  
To be sore raild'on, but I'll gently use them,  
Because I see their consciences accuse them,  
And notwithstanding they deserve much blame,  
Yet I'll not tax them by their proper name,  
So they will think I also mean them, when  
I use no more, but this bare name of Men:  
And though their faults I seem not to upbraid,  
'Cause nothing of them is directly said;  
Yet they, I hope will near the more disdain,  
To be thought fickle, proud, and weak and vain.  
But now for men; whereas I did complain,  
He both in Dee● and Word, and Thought was vain●●  
So I in this (I see) the like may do,  
Since he in all these is inconstant to.  
And first it is a wonder for to see  
His actions how mutable they be;  
He labours now, and's altogether set  
Upon the world how he wealth may get,  
Upon a sudden; then he thinks to mend it,  
he's in a humour than he means to spend it:  
Sometime he is consenting with the Devil,  
And ready to do any act that's evil.  
The which, perhaps, repenting, some divine  
Or heavenly matter doth his thoughts refine.  
So that he is resolved to spend that day,  
In reading what Gods holy Prophets say;  
Whlch in his mind it may be worketh so,  
He leaves it, and will to a Sermon go;  
Where by the way a Bill he doth espy,  
Which shows there's acted some new Comedy  
Then thither he is full and wholly bend,  
There's nothing that shall hinder his intent,  
But ere he to the Theatre can come,  
He hears perhaps the sounding of a Drum:  
Thereat he leaves both Stage-play and Devotion,  
And will forsooth go see some idle motion;  
Ere he gets in his rolling wandering eyes,  
Beholds some Fencer priest to play his prize.  
Faith then there is no remedy he'll see 't;  
But e'er he can get halfway o'er the street  
Some very near acquaintance doth salute him,  
Who for a miser would perhaps repute him,  
Unless he kndly offer to bestow  
The wine or beer at least, before he go?  
Well then he will; but while they do devise,  
What wine to have, perhaps they hear the cries,  
And howling which the eager Mastiffs make,  
When they behold a Bull or Bear at stake.  
Oh, on a sudden than they will be gone,  
they'll see that first and come and drink anon,  
But just as he out of the T●●ern● peeps,  
Some gallant Lass along before him sweeps:  
Whose youthful brow adorned with beauty trim  
And lovely-making doth so ravish him,  
As if that he were bound for to attend,  
He leaves Play, Fencer, Wine, Bull, Dogs, and Friend.  
By which we see his mind doth always vary,  
And seldom constant on one subject tarry.  
But still that thing with most desire is sought,  
Which happens for to be the last in thought.  
One while he likes best of the Country sport,  
Anon prefers the pleasure of the Court.  
Another while his mind is all in Spain,  
Then beyond Nilus, and strait here again.  
Now he thinks highly of a single life,  
And hateth Marriage as full of strife:  
And yet e'en in the turning of a hand,  
he's glad to make a jointure of his land,  
And woe with much entreaty to obtain,  
A wife which he did but of late disdain.  
One while he zealously professeth Christ,  
But shortly he becomes an Athe-ist,  
In Turkey he will Mahomet adore,  
Among the cursed Pagans can implore  
A Carved stone; In Rome he hath professed  
The worship of that Antichristian Beast;  
And yet in England here with us he grants  
No sound Religion but the Protestants.  
And not alone according to the place,  
Can these Chameleons alter thus their case;  
But for a shift themselves they do apply,  
To answer both the Time and Company.  
Gallants shall find them Formal, young men Wild▪  
Plain men shall think them Simple, old men Mild.  
And for the time with Edward they will be,  
(I'll warrant) Protestants, as well as he.  
And when his Sister Mary comes to Reign,  
They can be Papists easily again.  
Nay I do fear me though we have had teaching,  
And almost threescore years the Gospel's preaching  
Unconstant mankind is so prone to ill,  
(And to be changing hath so good a will)  
Too many both of old men and of youth,  
Might soon be drawn for to forsake the truth.  
Let us but note, and 'twill be strange to see.  
What contradictions in our actions be.  
Sometime the same we do with Trophies raise,  
That we did but a while before dispraise:  
Nor can we always in one passion keep,  
But often for one thing rejoice and weep.  
Is't not a sign of human fickleness,  
And a true note of our unsettledness,  
When not alone some one, or two, or few,  
But a great number, a selected Crew,  
Picked out of all estates, and they the wisest,  
The understandingst, yea and the precisest  
Of a whole Empire, and when these (I say)  
Have argued pro & con, from day to day,  
From week to week to have (perhaps) enacted,  
One Law or Statute, yet when als compacted,  
And every thing seems clearly done and ended  
Then to have something in't to be amended?  
Yea and when this is done, and the Records,  
Framed in their plain'st and most effectual words,  
T' express their meaning, and they think it plain▪  
Yet at next reading 'tis disliked again.  
This year they make a Law, repeal 't the next,  
Then re-inact ●t, and then change the text;  
Either by taking from, or adding to,  
And so they have an endless work to do.  
But some may tell me that thus stands the case,  
They must have both respect to time and place  
And that no Law devised by human wit,  
Can be for every place and season fit:  
All which I yield for truth indeed; but then,  
We must confess't a misery in men,  
That he (Chameleon-like) must have a mind,  
With every object unto change inclined.  
I might speak of the fickleness I see,  
In mens External fortunes for to be:  
For this day he hath friends, to morrow none,  
Now he hath wealth, and in an hour 'tis gone,  
Some in their youth there be have all things store,  
And yet do often live till they are poor.  
Again, there's some in youth at beggar States;  
Become in age for to be Potentates.  
Some are of Kings made slaves, and Kings again,  
Whilst other with the contrary complain,  
For poor Eumenes of a Potter's son,  
By fickle fortunes help a Kingdom won;  
But for him such a diet did provide,  
That shortly after he of hunger died.  
I many such examples might infer,  
But that would waste more time and make me err  
From my intent, who purpose to relate,  
The fickleness of man, not his estate.  
Moreover, he's a Creature knows not how,  
To do an act which he shall long allow,  
Or think of well himself; he cannot tell,  
What he would have, nor what he would not, well.  
For peradventure he is now content,  
To do what he will in an hour repent,  
He does, and undoes what he did before,  
Is discontented, and with no man more  
Then with himself; In word he's fickle to,  
For he will promise what he'll never do.  
If that he tells me he will be in Paul's,  
I'll go look for him in the Temple-hals,  
For soonest to that place resort doth he,  
Whereas he says or swears he will not be.  
Oh! had there been in words a constant trust,  
I needed not to have done as now I must.  
I should have had no cause to have bewailed,  
That which I once thought would have neverfaild  
But since 'tis thus, at nothing more I grieve,  
Then that unconstant words made me believe,  
Were promises worth trust, what needed than,  
Such written contracts between Man and Man?  
And wherefore should they make so much ado,  
To have both hands and seals to witness too?  
Unless it be for proofs to make it plain,  
Their words are both inconstant, false, and vain.  
To morrow he will earnestly gainsay.  
What stoutly is affirmed by him to day:  
Yea truly he 's so wavering and unjust,  
That scarce a word of his deserveth trust.  
But as a creature of all good forlorn,  
Swears what's denied, and strait denies what's sworn  
That I suppose, in troth and do not mock,  
He 's flt for nothing but a weathercock.  
Then that same thought that's likeliest to remain,  
Another that's unlike puts out again.  
For Appetite, not reason, guides him still,  
Which makes him so inconstant in his Will.  
Had he a suit at first but made of leather,  
And clothes enough to keep away the weather  
'Twere all his wish; well so let us grant,  
And ten to one he something else will want.  
But swears that he for more would never care,  
Then to be able to have cloth to wear,  
Which if he get, than would he very fain,  
Reach to have silks, for cloth he faith is plain,  
And so his wishes seldom would have stay,  
Until that he hath wished for all he may.  
But though from this infirmity there's no man,  
That I can well except it is so common,  
Yet surely I most properly may call't  
Or term't to be the common people's fault;  
Think not I wrong them, for if it may not be,  
A fault for to digress, you soon should see  
Their nature and condition; for I hate it:  
And now I think upon 't I will relate it.  
Tax me who list (I care not) here I'll break,  
My course a while, I may not choose but speak,  
Something, I say my Muse of them must tell,  
She cannot bear it any farther well.  
And yet expect not all, for I'll but show,  
Of many hundred thousand faults, a few.  
And to be brief: The Vulgar are a rude,  
A strange inconstant harebrained multitude:  
Borne too and fro with every idle passion,  
Or by opinion led beside all fashion,  
They still desire news, and to a song,  
Or a bald Tale they'll listen all day long.  
Soon weary of a good thing, and they try,  
To all reports how they may add a lie;  
Like that of Scoggins crows: and with them still,  
Custom hath borne most sway and ever will:  
And good or bad, what their forefathers did,  
they'll put in practice to, (else God for bid)  
They are seditious and much given to range,  
In their opinions, and desiring change,  
For if their Country be turmoiled with war,  
They think that peace is more commodious far,  
If they be quiet they would very fain,  
Begin to set the wars abroach again;  
I well remember when an Irish press,  
Had made a parish but a man the less,  
Lord what a hurly burly there was then!  
These wars (say they) hath cost us many a man,  
The Country is impoverished by 't and we,  
Robbed of our Husbands and our Children be,  
With many lamentations: But now peace,  
Hath made ●●ellonaes anger for to cease,  
Their ever discontented natures grudge,  
And think this happy peace we have too much,  
Yea and their wisdoms bear us now in hand,  
That it is wars that doth enrich the Land:  
But what are these? not men of any merit,  
That speak it from a bold and daring spirit,  
But lightly some fainthearted braving momes,  
That rather had be hanged at their own ●omes,  
Then for their Country's welfare for to stay,  
The brunt of one pitched battle but a day,  
Of such as would distract with fear become,  
To hear the thundering of a martial drum.  
They cannot keep a mean, a naughty crime,  
Nor never are contented with the time.  
But better like the state they have been in,  
Although the present hath the better been,  
E'en as the jews, that loathing Manna, fain  
Would be in Egypt at their flesh again,  
Though they were there in bondage; so do these,  
Wish for the world as in Queen Mary's days;  
With all the blindness and the trumpery,  
That was expelled the land with Popery;  
Why? things were cheap, and 'twas a goodly m●ny.  
When we had four and twenty agges a penny.  
But sure they ate them stale for want of wit,  
And that hath made them adle-headed yet.  
Then this (moreover) I have in them seen,  
They always to the good have envious been,  
Mild men they reckon fools and do uphold,  
Him to be valiant that is overbold:  
When he with wisemen is and ever was.  
Counted no better than a desperate Ass.  
He that doth trust unto their love, shall find  
'tis more unconstant than the wavering wind,  
Which since my time a man that many knew,  
Relying on it: at his death found true.  
Then they have oft unthank fully withstood,  
Those that have labour▪ for the common good.  
And being basely minded evermore,  
Seek less the public than the private store.  
Moreover such a Prince as yet was never,  
Of whom the People could speak well of ever,  
Nor can a man a government invent them,  
How good soever that shall long content them.  
Their honesty as I do plainly find  
Is not the disposition of their mind:  
But they are forced unto the same through fear,  
As in those villains it may well appear.  
Who having found so vile ungodly cause,  
If there be any means to wrest the Laws,  
By tricks or shifts to make the matter go  
As they would have it, all is well enough:  
Although the wrong and 〈◊〉 they proffer,  
Be to apparent for a jew to offer.  
They know not justice, and oft causeless hate,  
Or where their should not are compassionate,  
As at an execution I hau● seen,  
Where Malefactors have rewarded been,  
According to desert; before they know,  
If he accused, guilty be or no.  
They on report, this hasty censure give;  
He is a villain and unfit to live:  
But when he is once arraigned and found  
Guilty by Law; and heavily led bound  
Unto the Scaffold, than they do relent,  
And pi●ty his deserved punishment.  
Those that will now brave gallant men be deemed▪  
And with the Common people be esteemed,  
Let them turn hackster's as they walk the street,  
Quarrel, and fight with every one they meet;  
Learn a welsh Song to scoff the British blood  
Or break a jest on Scotsmen, that's as good,  
Or if they would that fools should much admire them,  
They should be jugglers if I might desire them:  
But if they want such feats for to be glorious  
Make Ballets and they shall become not orious,  
Yet this is nothing if they look for fame,  
And mean to have an everlasting name.  
Amongst the Vulgar let them seek for gain  
With Ward the Pirate on the boisterous main,  
Or else well mounted keep themselves on land,  
And bid our wealthy travelers to stand,  
Emptying their full crammed bags; for that's a trick  
Which sometimes won renown to cutting Dick.  
But some may tell me, though that such,  
It doth not go against their conscience much:  
And though there's boldness shown in such a case,  
Yet to be Tossed at tyburn's a disgrace,  
No, 'tis their credit, for the people then,  
Will say, 'tis pity they we e●proper men.  
With many such like humours base and nought,  
I do perceive the common people fraught,  
Then by th'opinion of some it seems,  
How much the Vulgar sort of men esteems  
OH 〈◊〉 or learning: Certain neighbouring swains,  
(That think none wisemen but whose wisdom games;  
Where knowledge be it moral or divine  
Is valued as an Orient-pearle with swine  
Meeting me in an evening in my walk,  
Being gone past me, thus began their talk.  
First an old Chuff, whose roof, I dare be bold,  
Hath bacon hang's in't above five years old.  
Said: That's his son that●s owner of the grounds  
That on this pleasant beeches mountains bounds,  
D'ye mark me neighbours? This sa●e young man's father  
Had a been my zunne I'd a hanged him rather  
Assoon as he perze●u'd the little fool,  
Could creep about the house, putten to school,  
Whither he we t●not now and then a spurt,  
As't had been good to keep him from the dirt;  
Nor yet at leisure tim s, (that's my zunnes' stint)  
Warrant then 〈◊〉 deed there had been reason in'te  
B●t vor continuance and beyond all zesse  
A held him to't six days a week no less  
That by S. Anne ie was a great presumption  
It brought him no● his end with a Consumption:  
And then beside he was not so content,  
To putten there where as our children went:  
To learn the Horn book, and the Abcee through,  
No that he thought not learning half enough,  
But he must seek the Country all about,  
Where he might find a better Teacher out.  
And then he buys him (now a pips befall it)  
A vlapp●ng book, I know not what they call it,  
'tis latin ●ll, thus it begins; In speech,  
And hat's in English, boy, beware your breech,  
One day my Dick a leaf on't with him brought,  
Which he out of his fellows book had ra●g ●t,  
And to h● s Mother and myself did read it,  
But we indeed did so extremely dread it,  
We gave him charge no more thereon to look,  
Vor veare it had been of a conjuring book,  
If that you think I jest go ask my wife,  
If ere she heard such gibberish in her life,  
But when he yonn had cond the same by heart,  
And of a many moethe better part;  
He went to Oxford, where he did remain,  
Some certain years, whence he's returned again,  
Now who can tell (it in my stomach sticks)  
And I do veare he has some Oxford tricks.  
But if it be so: would he had ne●e come hither,  
Warrant we shall still be sure of blustering weather.  
To what end comes his pain and vathers cost?  
Th' one's charges, and the tother's labour lost;  
I warrant he so long a learning went,  
That he almost a brother's portion spent:  
And now it nought avails him: by this holly,  
I think all learning in the world a folly,  
And them I take to be the veriest vooles,  
That all their life time do frequent the schools,  
Go ask him now and see if all his wits,  
Can tell you when a barley season hits.  
When Meadows must be left to spring, when mown,  
When Wheat, or tars, or rye, or pease be sown.  
He knows it not, nor when 'tis meet to fold,  
How to manure the ground that's wet or cold:  
What Lands are fit for Pasture, what for corn,  
Or how to hearten what is overworn.  
Nay; he scarce knows a Gelding from a Mare,  
A Barrow from a Sow, nor take she care  
Of such like things as these; be knows not whether,  
There be a difference twixt the Ewe and Wether,  
Can he resolve you? (No nor many more)  
If Cows do want their upper teeth before;  
Nay I durst pawn a groat he cannot tell,  
How many legs a Sheep hath very well,  
Is't not a wise man think ye? By the Mass,  
I'm glad at heart my zunnes not zuch an Ass,  
Why he can tell already all this gear,  
As well almost as any of us hear.  
And neighbours: yet I'll tell you more; my Dick,  
Hath very pretty skill in Arsemetricke.  
Can cast accouts, writes his name, & Dunces daughter,  
Taught him to spell the hardest words it'h zauter.  
And yet the Boy I'll warrant ye knows how,  
As well as you or I, to hold the Blow,  
And this I noted in the urchin ever,  
Bid him to take a Book he had as leather,  
All day have drawn a Harrow; truth is so,  
I liked it well although I made no show  
Vor to my comfort I did plainly see,  
That he heoreaster would not bookish Bee,  
Then when that having nought at home to do,  
I sometime forced him to the school to go,  
You would have grieved in heart to hear him whine,  
And then how glad he was to keep the swine,  
I yet remember; and what tricks the Mome,  
Would have invented for to stay at home  
You would have wondered; But 'tis such another,  
A has a wit in all the world likes Mother;  
Yet once a month, although it grieves us than,  
H'ele look you in a books do what we can;  
That Mother, Sister, brother all we four,  
Can scarce persuade him from't in half an hour,  
But oft I think he does it more of spite,  
To anger us then any true delight.  
For why? his Mother thinks as others do,  
And I am half of that opinion too.  
Although a little learning be not bad,  
Those that are bookish are the so onest mad.  
And therefore since much wit makes vooles of many,  
I'll take an order mine shall ne'er have any.  
By'r Lady your the wiser (quoth the rest)  
The course you take in our conceit's the best,  
Your Lonne may live in any place i'th' land,  
By his industrious and laborious hand,  
Whilst he (but that his parents are his stay)  
Hath not the mean, to keep himself a day,  
His study to our sight no pleasure gives,  
Nor me●●es, nor profit, and thereby he lives  
So little thing the better, none needt doubt it,  
He might have been a happier man without it.  
For though he now 〈◊〉 speak a little better,  
It is not words you know will free the debtor.  
Thus so ne whose speeches show well what they be,  
For want of matter fell to talk of me.  
Of whom, though something they have said be true  
Yet since instead of giving Act her due,  
They have disgraced it; Notwithstanding I,  
Have not the knowledge that these Dol●s envy,  
Or can so much without incurring blame,  
As take unto myself a scholars name.  
Yet now my reputation for to save,  
Since I must make account of that I have,  
I'll let you know though they so lightly deem it,  
What gain's in knowledge, and how I esteem it,  
As often as I call to mind the bliss,  
That in my little Knowledge heaped is.  
The many comforts, of all which the least,  
More joys my heart then can be well expressed.  
How happy then think I are they whose souls  
More wisdom by a thousand parts in rolls;  
Whose understanding-hearts are so divine  
They can perceive a m●ll●ou more than mine,  
Such have content indeed: And who that's man  
And should know reason is so senseless than  
To spurn at Knowledge, Art, or Learning; when  
That only shows they are the race of men?  
And what may I then of those Peasants deem,  
The which of wisdom make so small esteem?  
But that indeed such blockish senseless logs,  
Sprang from those clowns Latona turned to frogs;  
Alas, suppose they nothing can be got  
By precious stones, cause swine esteem them not?  
Ot do they think, because they cannot use it,  
That those which may have Knowledge will refuse it?  
Well, if their shallow coxcombs can contain  
A reason when It's told them, I'll explain,  
How that same little Knowledge I have got,  
Much pleasures me, though they perceive it not:  
For first thereby (though none can here attain  
For to renew their first estate again)  
Apart revives (although it be but small)  
Of that I lost by my first father's fall.  
And makes me man, which was before (at least)  
As hapless, if not more, then is the beast  
That reason wants; for his condition still,  
Remains according to his Maker's will.  
They never dream of that, and then by this,  
I find what godly, and what evil is;  
That knowing both, I may the best ensue,  
And as I ought the worse part eschew,  
Then I have learned to count that dross but vain,  
For which such Boars consume themselves with Pain:  
I can endure discontentments, crosses,  
Be jovial in want, and smile at losses:  
Keep under Passions, stop those insurrections,  
Raised in my Microcosmus by affections.  
Be nothing grieved for adversity,  
Nor near the prouder for prosperity.  
How to respect my friend I partly know,  
And in like manner how to use my foe.  
I can see others lay their souls to pawn,  
Look upon Great-men, and yet scorn to fawn.  
Am still content, & dare whilst God gives grace,  
E'en look my grimmest fortunes in the face.  
I fear men's censures as the charcoal sparks,  
Or as I do a toothless dog that barks;  
Th'one frights children, ' other threats to burn,  
But sparks will die, and brawling curs return.  
Yea I have learned that still my care shall be,  
A rush for him, that cares a straw for me.  
Now what would men have more? are these no pleasures?  
Or do they not deserve the name of treasures?  
Sure yes; and he that hath good learning store,  
Shall find these in't besides a thousand more.  
O● but our Chuffs think these delights but course,  
If we compare them to their Hobby-horse:  
And they believe not any pleasure can,  
Make them so merry as Maid-marian.  
Not is the Lawyer prouder of his fee▪  
Then these will of a Cuckoo Lordship be.  
Though their sweet Ladies make them father that,  
Some other at their Whitsun ales begat;  
But he whose carriage is of so good note,  
To be thought worthy of their Lords fools coat.  
That's a great credit, for because that he,  
Is ever thought the wisest man to be.  
But as there's virtue where the Diuil's precisest,  
So there's much knowledge where a fool's the wisest,  
But what mean I? let earth content these moles,  
And their highest pleasure be their summer-poles,  
About the which I leave them for to dance,  
And much good do't them with their ignorance.  
So this I hope will serve for to declare,  
How rude these vulgar sort of people are.  
But hereupon there's some may question make,  
Whether I only for the Vulgar take,  
Such men as these; To whom I answer, no,  
For let them hereby understand and know,  
I do not mean these meaner sort alone,  
Tradesmen or Labourers; but every one,  
Be he Esquire, Knight, Baron, Earl or more,  
Yet if he have not learned of virtues lore,  
But follows Vulgar Passions; then e'en he,  
Amongst the Vulgar shall for one man be.  
And the poor Groom, that he thinks should adore him,  
Shall for his Virtue be preferred before him.  
For though the world doth such men much despise,  
They seem most noble in a wiseman's eyes.  
And notwithstanding some do noblest deem,  
Such as are sprung of great and high esteem,  
And those to whom the Country doth afford  
The title of a Marquis or a Lord,  
Though 'twere achieved by their father's merits,  
And themselves men but of dunghill spirits;  
Cowards or fools; (And such as ever be  
Prating or boasting of their Pedigree)  
When they are nothing but a blot or shame,  
Unto the noble house from whence they came.  
Yet these (I say) unless that they have wit,  
To guide the Commonwealth, as it is fit  
They should; And as their good forefathers did,  
How ere their faults may seem by Greatness hid,  
They shall appear; And the poor Yeoman's son,  
Whose proper virtue hath true honour won,  
Be placed above him: But Nobility  
That comes by birth hath most antiquity  
Some think; and other (if at all  
They yield as noble) they an upstart call,  
But I say rather no, his Nobleness  
That's raised by Virtue hath most worthiness.  
And is most ancient, for it is the same,  
By which all Great men first obtained their Fame;  
So than I hope 'twill not offend the Court,  
That I count some there with the Vulgar sort,  
And out others; yet some think me bold,  
Because there's few that these opinions hold.  
But shall I care what others think or say?  
There is a path besides the beaten way;  
Yea and a safer, for here's Christ's Instruction,  
The broadest way leads soon to Destruction.  
And truly no opinions deceive,  
Sooner than those the Vulgar sort receive,  
And therefore he that would indeed be wise,  
Must learn their rude conditions to despise,  
And shun their presence; for we have been taught,  
Diseases in a press are quickly caught.  
Now satire leave them till another time,  
And spare to scourge the Vulgar with thy rhyme,  
If any think thou hast digressed too long,  
They may pass over this, and do no wrong.  
But in my former matter to proceed,  
Who, being man's Race is so much freed  
From fickleness, that he is sure to find  
Himself to morrow, in that very mind  
he's in to day? though he not only know  
No reason wherefore he should not be so,  
But also though he plainly do perceive  
Much cause he should not that opinion leave:  
May no man do it? who then justly can  
Be forced to rely, or trust in Man  
Whose thoughts are changing, and so oft amiss,  
That by himself, himself deceived is?  
Who is so sottish as to build Salvation  
On such a feeble tottering foundation  
As Man? who is't that having a respect,  
To his soul's safety, will so much neglect  
That precious assurance, as to lay  
His confidence on that false piece of clay,  
Which being fickle, merits far less trust,  
Then letters written in the sand, or dust?  
Do they not see those they have soundest deemed,  
And for their constants writers still esteemed,  
All wavering in assertions? yea but look,  
And you shall find in one, and the same book  
Such contradiction in Opinion,  
As shows their thoughts are scarce at Union.  
Where find you him that dares be absolute,  
Or always in his sayings resolute?  
there's none; I by my own experience speak,  
I have a feeling that we men are weak,  
Whereon much musing, makes me inly mourn,  
And grieve at heart, that I a man was borne.  
(Yet hereupon I do desire that no man,  
Would gather that I long to be a woman,)  
Alas! how often had I good Intendments  
And with my whole heart vowed and sworn amendments  
Yea purposed that, wherein I once thought, never  
unconstancy should let me to persever?  
And yet for all my purpose and my vow,  
I am oft altered ere myself knows how:  
But therefore since it is not I alone,  
Or any certain number that is known,  
To be un-stable; but e'en all that be;  
Since none (I say) is from this frailty free,  
Let us confess it all, and all implore  
Our near repenting God; that evermore  
Remains the same, we may be (as we ought)  
More certain both in Word, and Deed, & Thought  
That he will keep us from Inconstancy,  
Yea from all damned, lewd Apostasy;  
But howsoever our affections change,  
And we in slight opinions hap to range:  
Yet, pray his Truth in us be so engraved,  
Continuing to the end we may be saved.   

OF WEAKNESS.  
SATYR. 3.  
But oh look here; for I have surely found  
The Main chief Root, the very spring and Ground.  
Of our Inconstancy. It is not Chance  
That so disables our perseverance:  
But a base Weakness, which to term aright,  
Is merely a private on of that might,  
Or a detraction from that little power  
Which should be in those limbs and minds of our:  
We boast of strength; but tell me, can our days  
Afford a Milo, or a Hercules?  
Can all the world, (and that is large enough)  
A match for Hector or Achilles show:  
Have we a Champion strong enough to wield  
This Buckler? or Sir Ajax seaven-fold-shield?  
I think we have not: (but I durst so grant,  
There be some living shall with Ajax vaunt.)  
Nay, now in these days it is doubted much,  
Whether that any former age had such  
As these forenamed; but indeed our faith  
Binds us to credit, that as Scripture saith  
There was a Samson, who could fright whole hosts,  
And rend down Azaths barred gates and posts,  
Whose mighty Arms unarmed could bring to pass,  
E'en with the rotten jaw bone of an Ass,  
A thousands ruin▪ and yet 'twill be long,  
Ere he shall thereby prove that Ma● is strong.  
For first, the strength he seemed to have, was known,  
To be the Spirit of God, and not his own.  
And then his proper weakness did appear,  
When after his brave actiheihad well-near,  
Been dead for thirst; whereas if he in spite  
Of Nature had been able by his might,  
Out of this little Stony-rocke to wring,  
To quench his present thirst, some flowing Spring,  
As did a Stronger one: or if his power  
Could have compelled the melting clouds to shower  
For present need, such plenteous drops of rain,  
He might have had no cause for to complain,  
Or crave more aid. Sure then we might at length,  
Be brought for to believe that Men had strength;  
But ne'er till then. he's mighty that can make  
The Heaveus, Earth, & Hell with's breath to shake.  
That in his sphere the Sun's swift course can stop,  
And Atlas with his burden underprop.  
He that with ease his massy globe can roll,  
And wrap up Heaven like a parchment scroll;  
He that for no disease or pain will droop,  
Nor unto any plague infernal stoop.  
He that can Meat, and Drink, and sleep refrain,  
Or hath the power to die, and rise against,  
he's strong indeed; but he that can but tear,  
Or rend in two a Lion, or a Bear,  
Or do some such like act, and then go lie  
Himself o'ercome by some infirmitte,  
How ere with vaunts he seems his deeds to grace,  
He is both miserable, weak, and base,  
What Creature is there borne so weak as Man,  
And so un-able? tel me, he that can.  
Or if that they could numbered be by any,  
Count his disease and what hath so many?  
Or else what creature is there if he be  
In bone and flesh of the same quantity,  
So frail as Man? or that can worse sustain.  
Hunger or thirst or cold or heat or pain?  
Sure none; and yet in Histories we find,  
Till Luxury hath weakened thus mankind,  
They wear much stronger; could endure the heat,  
Travel a long time without Drink or meat,  
And their best dainty was no costlier thing  
Than a wild-root or water from the Spring.  
With which small Commons Nature was content:  
Yea in our Climate people naked went;  
And yet no question felt as little cold,  
As we wrapped up in half a dozen fold  
They had no waistcoats, nightcaps for their heads,  
Nor downy pillows nor soft featherbeds  
They scorned as much to have such things about them  
As we in this Age scerne to be without them.  
Their heads some stone bore up their brawny sides,  
With ease the hardness of the earth abides.  
Gluttonous fare that so the palate pleases,  
Near filled their bodies full of foul diseases  
Nor any pleasing liquors with excess,  
Made them grow weak through beastly drunkenness.  
No lust-provoking meats made them unchaste.  
Nor unto carnal copula●ton haste,  
For I am in the mind they ne'er required it,  
Till Nature come to herfull strength, desired it,  
And that it is alone which made them be  
More stout, more strong, and braver men than we.  
It was a noble care in them indeed; but how  
Are we become such Dwarves and Pigmies now?  
How are our limbs so weak and feeble grown?  
I think I need not tell it, 'tis well known,  
Nice tender breeding, which we well might spare,  
Much drunkenness and our luxurious fare:  
Which adds not strength, as some do vainly say  
But rather takes both strength, and health away.  
Yet chiefly this same imbecility,  
Comes by too soon and frequent venery.  
A beardless Boy now cannot keep his bed,  
Unless that he be of his Night-gear sped,  
And many Giglots I have married seen,  
Ere they (forsooth) could reach eleventeene.  
Nay 'tis no wonder we are grown so weak,  
For now they're matching brats ere they can speak;  
And though we yet say that the men are stronger,  
Yet he (I think) that lives but so much longer,  
The revolution of an age to see,  
Will say that men the weaker vessels be.  
But now our strength of body, which indeed,  
Deserves no more respect than doth a reed,  
Is not the strength of which I meant to speak,  
For we are yet another way too weak.  
Our minds have lost their magnanimity,  
And are so feebled through infirmity;  
That either to be resolute we care not,  
Or else because of some base fear we dare not,  
Where can we find almost a man so hardy,  
Who through his weakness is not sometime tardy,  
To speak the truth? or to declare his mind?  
Though he do many just occasions find.  
He'll wink at's friends offence, and pass it blindly,  
Lest (peradventure) he should take't unkindly.  
And if it be a Great man that offends,  
Show me but him that boldly reprehends,  
And i'll admire him; Nay we'll rather now  
Bend our endeavour and our study how  
To soothe and fawn; or to their lewdness tell,  
That all they do (be't near so bad) is well.  
Their very looks and presence we so fear,  
As if that they some monstrous Cyclops were,  
Which makes them worse. But howsoe'er they trust  
Unto their might, I'll tell them (for I must)  
Although they threaten, and can slanders make  
Of just reproofs, my heart shall never quake  
T'inform their Honours, thus'tis censured by men,  
If they be Great-ones, Tanto maius crimen;  
One knows the Truth, but dares not to defend it,  
Because he hears another discommend it.  
Yea divers follow virtues ways but coldly,  
Because they dare not do a Good thing boldly  
And do we not perceive that many a man  
Fearing for to be termed a P●ritan,  
Simply neglects the means of his salvation,  
Though it be needful, and worth commendation?  
Some cannot well endure this or that:  
Others distempered with I know not what  
Show an exceeding frailty: Few can brook  
With any patience, that men should look  
Into their Actions; and though they should love them,  
They rather hate them for't that do reprove them.  
Is there a man so strong, that he forbears  
Choler or Fury, when by chance he hears,  
Himself reviled, reproached and disgraced?  
If there be such a one, he shall be placed  
Amongst the Worthy, with the foremost three:  
For in my judgement, none more wothy be  
To have renown for strength, than those that can,  
On their rebellious Passions play the man.  
This Weakness I do also find in men,  
They know not their own happiness till then  
When they have lost it: And they do esteem  
Men for their wealth, and them most blessed deem  
That are most rich; supposing no man more  
Accursed or unhappy, than the poor.  
Some basely do comdemne each strange report  
To be untrue, because it doth not sort  
With their weak reasons. Some again will be,  
Astonished at every novelty.  
But too much wondering doth discover plain  
Where ignorance and frailty both remain.  
Is it not weakness when some petty losses,  
Some hindrance in preferment, or such crosses  
Shall make men grieve? is it no weakness when,  
Adversity shall so disquiet men  
That they should not with patience sustain,  
Or undetgoe a little cross and pain?  
Yes questionless it is; or were they strong,  
They would so arm themselves 'gainst grief and wrong  
That no disastrous, or ill hap should fright them  
Though Fortune did the worst she can to spite them.  
Nor would they those, as the unworthiest deem,  
To whom dame Fortune doth most froward seem;  
But rather such as all their life time be,  
In quiet state and from disturbance free.  
For ●he oft gives what their base longing craves,  
Because she scorns to vex dejected slaves,  
I have known brave men, brave at least in show,  
(And in this age now that is brave enough)  
That in appearance for bold champions past  
And yet have basely yielded at the last.  
Besides there's many who thought scorn to droop,  
By Fortune's power have been made to stoop,  
And with discredit shamefully left undone,  
What they with honour at the first begun;  
And their weak hearts (which frailty I much hate)  
Dejected, have grown base with their estate.  
Whereas (me thinks) the mind should never be,  
Subject to Fortune's frowns not tyranny.  
But here through weakness, some, offence may take  
That I of fortune should recital make:  
For they by Fortune say there's nothing done,  
But all things are both ended and begun,  
By God's appointment. I confess indeed,  
That he knows all, and all hath fore-decreed:  
In the respect of whom I cannot say,  
Aught comes by chance; respecting us I may.  
So they are answered; But how can men be,  
So overbeared with this infirmity?  
As those who are in every matter led,  
By Parasites and Apes: where is their head?  
I mean their will, their reason, and their sense,  
What is become of their intelligence?  
How be't that they have such a partial care,  
They can judge nothing true, but what they hear  
Come from the tongue of some sly sycophant.  
But for because they strength of judgement want,  
Those that themselves to flatterers enure,  
I have perceived basely to endure  
For to be plainly soothed, mocked and flouted,  
Made coxcombs to their faces, yet not doubted  
That they were highly reverenced, respected,  
And by those fawning Parasites affected  
And why forsooth? they often hear them prate,  
In commendations of their happy state;  
Yes, and they tell them that they virtuous be,  
Wise, Courteous, strong, and beautiful to see,  
When if the eye of reason were not locked  
They plainly might perceive that they were mocked.  
For what be't else, when they are praised for many  
Goodly conditions, that had never any?  
This frailty also merits to be blamed  
When fearful of reproach we are ashamed,  
Our ignorance in those things to explain,  
Wherein, 'twere fit more knowledge to attain  
'Tis weakness also when a bargains bought,  
For to dispraise the pennyworth as nought,  
And tell what might have been, or fond prate,  
Of Counsel, when he sees it is too late,  
Nor is it any less to seek to stay,  
Him that we know doth hasten on his way,  
O● be importunate, for that which will▪  
Be nothing for our good, yet others ill:  
Also, to be afraid for to gainsay,  
What men do know untrue, or to delay  
The right of any matter to declare,  
Because they fear they unbelieved are:  
For notwithstanding Truth doth oft bring blame,  
It may be freely spoken without shame  
divers more ways of which I needs must speak,  
There's many men do show themselves but weak:  
In some but lately I observed this,  
And must needs say their nature evil is;  
If friends to them have any kindness shown,  
Or entertainments willingly bestown,  
That they confess they are indebted for it,  
Yet such is their condition (I abhor it)  
If that those friends do hap to take the pain,  
To come sometime and visit them again,  
In mere good will, because these weak ones see  
They cannot then so well provided be  
To bid them welcome as their loves require,  
(Though more than love their loves did ne'er desire)  
A foolish Shame so blinds them that they shall  
(For giving them to much) have nought at all;  
Yea for because they want excessive fare,  
Or some such things for which their friends near care,  
(Though by their will it other wise had been)  
They neither will be known at home nor seen.  
Which doth not only show impiety,  
But hindereth love, and bars society,  
Yet now the greatest weakness that I find,  
To be in man, is ignorance of mind,  
It makes a poor man he's scarce good for aught,  
If rich men have it, they are worse than nought.  
For having riches store, and wanting might,  
Or strength of mind to use the same aright,  
'tis arrogancies and ambitious fuel,  
It makes them Covetous, Inconstant, Cruel;  
Intemperate, Unjust and wondrous heady,  
Yea in their actionsrude, and so unsteady  
They cannot follow any sound direction,  
But are still carried with a wild affection,  
This is their nature: (it is quickly noted)  
If they to honour be by hap promoted  
Then they grow insolent, beyond all reason,  
Apt for Ambition, Quarrels, Murders, Treason:  
Or any villainy, that follows those,  
Who do the sum of happiness repose  
In worldly glory: But if Fortune frown,  
And from her fickle wheel once cast them down,  
Then their dejected hearts again grow base,  
They are impatient of their present case:  
Rave or run mad, and can do nought poor elves,  
Unless it be go hang or drown themselves.  
Moreover the same weakness that proceeds,  
From ignorance, this mischief also breeds;  
It makes men will conceited of their will,  
Which they will follow be it near so ill.  
And they think all things needs must fall out bad,  
Wherein their wise advise may not be had.  
But here's the hell: to them all counsel's vain,  
'Cause they all others wisdom do disdain,  
And wholly on their own devices rest,  
As men persuaded that their own are best:  
But as all such are weak, e'en so I say  
Is every one that rashly doth repay  
Vengeance in anger; Or that's male content  
Oft; or oft moved and impatient:  
Or those that judge of Counsels by th'event,  
Or that persuade themselves, if their intent  
Be good and honest, that it doth not skill  
If that the matter of itself be ill;  
Which were it true than David might complain,  
That Vzzah for his good intent was slain.  
Others again think Superstitious Rites,  
To be the service in which God delghts.  
But since I'm forced my mind of them to speak,  
I must needs say their judgements are but weak:  
The like I must of them who disesteem,  
All foreign customs, and do only deem  
Their own, praiseworthy; As also such as do  
Think those things best they cannot reach unto;  
Yet in the vulgar this weak humour's bred,  
They'll sooner be with idle customs led,  
Or fond opinions such as they have store,  
Then learn of reason or of virtues lore,  
We think that we are strong, but what alas!  
Is there that our great might can bring to pass,  
Since though we thereto bend e'en all our will,  
We neither can be good not wholly ill.  
God gives us needful blessings for to use them,  
Which wanting power to do we oft abuse them,  
Some hold them wise and virtuous that profess,  
An heremitall solitariness:  
But it proceeds from imbecility,  
And for because through Non-ability,  
Those things they cannot well in dure to do,  
Which they indeed should be enured unto:  
Besides, they wrong their Country, and their friends.  
For man (saith Tullye's,) borne to other ends  
Then for to please himself; a part to have,  
The commonweal doth look, and parents crave  
A part; so doth his friend; then deals he well  
That closely mewed up in a careless cell  
Keeps all himself; and for a little ease,  
Can in his Conscience find to rob all these?  
I say he's weak, and so again I must,  
But add withal, he's slothful and unjust:  
Then as he's vain that precious time doth spend,  
In fond and idle pleasure to no end:  
So are those weak, that with contempt disdain  
All pleasure and delights on earth as vain;  
And though they would be zealous thought, & wise  
I shall but count them foolishly precise;  
For Man hath cares; and pleasures mixed withal  
Are needful; yea both just and natural.  
We are no Angels that our recreation,  
Should consist only in mere Contemplation:  
But we have bodies to, of whose due pleasure,  
The souls must find sometimes to be at leisure  
For to participate; but in this kind,  
Though some find fault, we are not much behind  
Then 'tis through human weakness, when that we  
Of a good-turne will soon forgetful be,  
And readier to revenge a small offence,  
Then for that good to make a recompen ●  
And so 'tis also when that we eschew,  
Or shun them unto whom from us is due  
Both love and money; this because their own  
Th'other cause friendship at our need was shown:  
But 'tis well seen there's many so abhor,  
To be in presence with their Creditor,  
That (thankless elves) though he be still their friend.  
They rather would desire to see his end:  
He's weak, to that's not able to withstand,  
Any unlawful or unjust demand,  
As well as he that knows not to deny,  
Serving-men's kindness, or pot-curtesie.  
Some simple fellows, cause that silken-fooles,  
(That had their bringing-up in Bacchus' schools.)  
In show of love, but deign to drink unto them,  
Think presently they such a favour do them,  
That though they feel their stomach well nigh sick  
Yet if to pledge these kind ones they should stick:  
Or for a draft or two, or three refuse them  
They think in conscience they should much abuse them  
Nay there be some, and wisemen you would think  
That are not able to refuse their drink,  
Through this their weakness; though that they be sure  
'Tis more than their weak stomachs can endure,  
And why? oh 'tis the health of some great Peer  
His Masters, or his Friend he counteth dear;  
What then? if that the party virtuous be,  
He'll not esteem of such a foolery;  
If not, who ere't be, this is my mind still,  
A straw for's love, his friendship, or good will,  
Some muse to see those that have knowledge gained  
And to Degrees of Art in Schools attained,  
Should have opinion stuffed with heresy,  
And in their action such Simplicity  
As many have, At first, without a pause,  
As mere a Boy as I may tell the cause:  
Is't not, the reason their acquired parts,  
And knowledge they have reached unto by Arts  
Is grown a M●tch to great, and far unfit,  
For to be joined with their Naturallwit?  
'Tis so; and they instead of rightful using  
Draw from their leraning errors, by abusing.  
Plain Reason should, and every man that's wise  
Knows though that Learning be a dainty prize,  
Yet if that Fate with such a weakling place it,  
Who hath no helps of Nature for to grace it:  
Or one, whose proper Knowledge, is so small,  
He is beholding to his Book for all;  
It only breeds, (unless it be some Treasons)  
Crippled Opinions, and prodigious Reasons.  
Which being favoured brings in the Conclusion,  
Public Dissensions, or their own Confusion.  
For I may liken Learning to a Shield,  
With a strong Armour, Lying in a field:  
Ready for any man that hath the Wit  
To take it up and arm himself with it,  
Now if he be a man of strength and might,  
That happens on that furniture to light  
He may do wonders; As offend his foe,  
And keep himself and his, from overthrow.  
But if a weak and feeble man should take  
These instruments of Mars; what would they make,  
For his advantage? Surely I should gather  
They would go near to overthrow him rather:  
For they would load him so, a man more strong  
Although he be unarmed, may do him wrong.  
So he, that is deprived of Nature's gifts,  
With all his Learning, maketh harder shifts,  
Through his own weakness, & incurs more shames;  
Then many that want Art to write their Names.  
We have some Fellows that would scorn to be  
Termed Weak I know, especially by Me,  
Because they see that my ungentle Fate,  
Allowed me not to be a Graduate.  
Yet whatsoever they will say unto it,  
For all their scorning I am like to do it.  
And to be brief they are no simple fools,  
But such as have yauld Ergo in the schools,  
Who being by some men of worship thought,  
Fit men by whom their children may be taught,  
And learned enough for that they are allowed  
The name of Teachers, whereof growing proud,  
Because perhaps they hear that now and then,  
They are admired at by the serving-men;  
Or else by reason something they have said,  
Hath been applauded by the Chambermaid;  
They thereupon suppose that no man may.  
Hold any thing for truth but what they say:  
And in discourse their tongues so much will walk,  
You may not here a man of reason talk;  
They are half Preachers, if your question be,  
Of matters that concern divinity;  
If it be law; I'll warrant they'll outface,  
A dozen P●oydens to maintain their case:  
But if it be of Physic you contend,  
Old Galen and Hypocrates may send  
For their opinion; nay, they dare profess,  
Knowledge in all things, though there's none know less:  
Now I should wonder they prevailed so much,  
Did not the Common-people favour such,  
But they are known although their verdict passes,  
Proud Dogmatists, and selfconceited Asses;  
Whom I may term (though I cannot outscold them  
Weak simple fools, and those that do uphold them:  
Moreover some, (but foolishly precise,  
And in my judgement, far more weak than wise,)  
Misjudge of Poetry, as if the same,  
Did worthily dese●ue reproach and blame;  
If any book in verse they hap to spy,  
Oh, out upon't, away, profane they cry,  
Burnt, read it not, for sure it doth contain  
Nothing but fables of a lying brain;  
Alast take heed, indeed it oft pollutes  
The outside of thy false-vaine glorious suits?  
And to the blinded people makes it plain,  
The Colour, thou so counterset'st will stain.  
Because we see that men are drunk with wine,  
Shall we contemn the liquor of the Vine?  
And since there's some that do this Art misuse,  
Wilt therefore thou the Art itself abuse?  
'Twere mere injustice: For Divinity  
Hath with no Science more affinity  
Than this; and howsoe'er this scruple rose,  
Rhyme hath expressed as sacred things as prose;  
When both in this age and in former time,  
Prose hath been ten-times more profane, than rhyme;  
But they say still that Poetry is lies,  
And fables, such as idle heads devise,  
Made to please fools: but now we may by this  
Perceive their weakness plainly what it is:  
Yea, this both weak and ignorant doth prove them,  
In that they'll censure things that are above them:  
For, if that worthy Poets did not teach,  
A way beyond their dull conceited reach,  
I think their shallow wisdoms would espy,  
A Parable did differ from a lie.  
Yea, if their judgement be not quite bereft;  
Or if that they had any reason left,  
The precious Truths within their fables wrapped,  
Had not upon so rude a Censure happed;  
But though that kind of teaching some dispraise,  
As there's few good things liked of now adays:  
Yet I dare say because the Scriptures show it,  
The best e'er taught on earth, taught like a Poet:  
And whereas Poets now are counted base,  
And in this worthless age in much disgrace;  
I of the cause cannot refrain to speak,  
And this it is; men's judgements are grown weak,  
They know not true desert; for if they did  
Their well deservings could not so be hid,  
And sure if there be any doth despise  
Such as they are; it is cause he envies  
Their worthiness; and is a secret foe  
To every one that truly learns to know:  
For, of all sorts of men here's my belief,  
The Poet is most worthy and the chief:  
His Science is the absolut'st and best,  
And deserves honour above all the rest;  
For 'tis no human knowledge gained by art,  
But rather 'tis inspired into the heart  
By divine means; and I do muse men dare,  
Twixt it and their professoins make compare.  
For why should he that's but Philosopher,  
Geometrician, or ginger,  
Physician, Lawyer, Rhetorician.  
Historian, Arithmetician,  
Or some such like, why should he having found  
The means but by one Ar● to be renowned,  
Compare with him that claims to have a part  
And interest almost in every Art?  
And if that men may add unto their name,  
By one of these an everlasting fame,  
How much more should it unto them befall,  
That have not only one of these, but all  
As Poets have? for do but search their works  
And you shall find within their writing lurks  
All knowledge; if they undertake  
Of Diu●ne matters any speech to make,  
You'll think them Doctors; if they need to tell  
The course of stars, they seem for to excel  
Great Ptolomey; intend they to persuade,  
You'll think that they were Retoricians made:  
What Law, what Physic, or what History  
Can these not treat of? Nay what mystery  
Are they not learned in? If of Trades they write,  
Have they not all terms and words as right  
As if he had served an Apprenticeship?  
Can they not name all tools for workmanship?  
We see 'tis true; If once they entreat of wars?  
Of cruel bloody frays? of wounds? of scars?  
Why then he speaks so like a soldier there,  
That he hath been begot in arms thou'lt swear:  
Again, he writes so like a Navigator,  
As if they had served Neptune in the water,  
And thou wouldst think he might of travail make  
As great a Volume, as our famous Drake;  
Old Proteus, and Vertumnus are but Apes.  
Compared to these, for shifting of their shapes;  
There is no humorous Passion so strange,  
To which they cannot in a moment change:  
Note but their Drammaticks and you shall see  
They I speak for every sex, for each degree,  
And in all causes as if they had been,  
In every thing, or at least all things seen.  
If need be they can like a Lawyer prate,  
Or talk more gravely like a man of State;  
They'll have a Tradesman's tongue to praise their ware,  
And counterfeit him right (but they'll not swear)  
The curious't Physicians (if they please)  
Shall not quoin words to give their patient's ease  
So well as they; And if occasion urge,  
They'll Choler, yea and Melancholy purge  
Only with charms and words; and yet it shall  
Be honest means and merely natural;  
Are they disposed to gossiped like a woman,  
They'll show their tricks so right, that almost noman,  
But would so think them: Virgins that are purest,  
And Matrons that make show to be demurest,  
Speak not so like chaste Cynthia, as they can,  
Nor Newberry so like a Courtesan;  
They'll give words either fitting for a Clown,  
Or such as shall not unbeseeme a Crown;  
In show they will be choleric, Ambitious,  
Desperate, jealous, Mad, or Envious,  
In sorrow, or in any Passion be;  
But yet remain still, from all passions free.  
For they only to this end expressed them,  
That men may see them plainer, and detest them.  
But some will say that these have on the stage,  
So painted out the vices of this age,  
That it not only tells that they have been,  
Experienced in every kind of sin,  
But that it also doth corrupt, and show  
How men should act those sins they did not know,  
Oh hateful saying, not pronounced by chance,  
But spewed out of malicious Ignorance;  
Weigh it, and you will either think these weak,  
Or say that they do out of envy speak:  
Can none declare th' effect of Drunkenness,  
Unless they used suchlike bestlinesse?  
Are all men ignorant what comes by lust,  
Excepting those that were themselves unjust?  
Or think they no man can describe a sin?  
But that which he himself hath wallawed in?  
If they suppose so, I no cause can tell,  
But they may also boldly say as well  
They are apprentices to every trade,  
Of which they find they have descriptions made,  
Or for because they see them write those things,  
That do belong to rule best, say th' are Kings:  
As though that sacred Poesy inspired,  
No other knowledge than might be acquired  
By the dull outward sense; yes, this is She  
That shows us no● alone all things that be,  
But by her power lays before out view,  
Such wondrous things as Nature never knew  
And then whereas they say that men are worse,  
By reading what these write, 'tis their own curse,  
For is the flower faulty cause we see,  
The loathsome spider and the painful Bee,  
Make divers use on't? No it is the same,  
Unto the spider though she cannot frame,  
Like sweetness as the Bee thence; But indeed  
I must confess that this bad age doth breed,  
Too many that without respect presume,  
This worthy title on them to assume,  
And undeserved base fellows, whom mere time,  
Hath made sufficient to bring forth a Rhyme,  
A Curtain lig, a libel or a ballet,  
For Fiddlers or some Rogues with staff and wallet  
To sing at doors; men only wise enough,  
Out of some rotten old worm-eaten stuff,  
To patch up a bald witless Comedy,  
And trim it here and there with Ribaldry  
Learned at a bawdy house▪ I say there's such,  
And they can never be disgraced too much,  
For though the name of Poet such abuses,  
Yet they are enemies to all the Muses  
And dare not sort with them for fear they will,  
Tumble them headlong down Parnassus' hill:  
Why then should their usurping of it wrong  
That Title which doth not to them belong?  
And wherefore should the shame of this lewd, crew  
Betid them, unto whom true honours due?  
It shall not; for how ere they use the name,  
Their works will show how they do merit fame;  
And though it be disgraced through ignorance,  
The generous will Poesy advance:  
As the most antic Science that is found,  
And that which hath been the first root & ground  
Of every Art; yea that which only brings  
Content; and hath been the delight of kings;  
Great JAMES our King both loves & lives a Poet,  
His books now extant do directly show it,  
And That shall add unto his worthy name,  
A better glory, and a greater fame  
Than Britain's Monarchy; for few but he,  
I think will both a King and Poet be;  
And for the last, although some fools debase it,  
I'm in the mind that Angels do embrace it:  
And though God giv't here but in part to some,  
All shall have't perfect in the world to come.  
This in defence of Poesy to say  
I am compelled, because that at this day,  
Weakness and Ignorance hath wronged it sore▪  
But what need any man therein speak more  
Then Divine Sidney hath already done?  
For whom (though he deceased ere I begu●)  
I have oft sighed, and bewailed my Fate,  
That brought me forth so many years too late,  
To view that worthy; And now think not you  
Oh Daniel, Draiton, johnson, Chapman how  
I long to see you with your fellow Peers,  
Matchless Silvester, glory of these years.  
I hither to have only heard your fames  
And know you yet but by your works and names:  
The little time, I on the earth have spent,  
Would not allow me any more content:  
I long to know you better that is the truth,  
I am in hope you'll not disdain my Youth.  
For know you Muses Darlings, I'll note rave,  
A fellowship amongst you for to have:  
Oh no; for though my ever willing heart,  
Have vowed to love and praise You and your Art;  
And though that I your style do now assume,  
I do not, nor I will not so presume;  
I claim not that too-worthy name of Poet;  
It is not yet deserved by me, I know it.  
Grant me I may but on your Muses tend,  
And be enrolled their Servant, or their Friend.  
And if desert hereafter worthy make me,  
Then for a Pellow (if it please you) take me.  
But yet I must not here give off to speak,  
To tell men wherein I have found them weak,  
And chiefly those that cannot brook to hear,  
Mention of Death but with much grief and Fear●  
For many are not able for to take  
That thought into them, but their souls will quake▪  
Poor feeble spirits, would you near away,  
But dwell for ever in a piece of Clay?  
What find you here wherein you do delight,  
Or what's to seeing that's worth the sight?  
What? doth the heavens thy endeavours bless  
And wouldst thou therefore live for to possess  
The joy thou hast? seeked not; perhaps to morro●  
Thou'lt wish to have died to day, to scape the sorrow  
Thou then shall see, for shame take stronger Hearts  
And add mo●e courage to your betteer Parts;  
For Death's not to be feared, since 'tis a Friend,  
That of your sorrows makes a gentle end.  
But here a quality I call to mind.  
That I amongst the Common-people find,  
This 'tis, a weak one to; when they perceive  
A friend near death, and ready for to leave  
This wretched life; and if they hear him say  
Some par●ing words, as if he might not stay,  
Nay say not so (these comforters reply)  
Take heart your time's not come, ye shall not die;  
What man, and grace of God you shallbe stronger;  
And live no doubt yet, many a fair day longer.  
Think not on Death; with many such like words,  
Such as their understanding best affords:  
But where is now become this people's wit?  
What doth their knowledges esteem more fit  
Than death to think on; chiefly when men be  
About to put off their Mortality?  
Me thinks they rather should persuade them then  
Fearless to be resolved, to die like Men.  
For want of such a resolution stings  
At point of Death; and dreadful horror brings,  
e'en to the soul; cause wanting preparation,  
She lies despairing of her own salvation;  
Yea and moreover this full well know I,  
He that's at any time afraid to die,  
●s in weak case, and whatsoever he saith,  
Hath but a wavering and a feeble Faith.  
But what need I go farther to relate,  
The frailty I have seen in Man's estate?  
Since this I have already said makes clear,  
That of all Creatures, God hath placed here,  
(Provided we respect them in their kind)  
We cannot any more unable find;  
For of ourselves we have not power to speak,  
No nor to frame a thought, we are so weak.  
Against our bodies eue'ry thing prevails,  
And oft our knowledge and our judgement fails;  
Yea if that one man's strength were now no less,  
Then all men do in general possess.  
Or if he had attained to ten-times more  
Than all God's creatures joined in one before;  
Yet would his power be even then so small,  
When he stands surest; he's but sure to fall;  
'Tis only weakness that doth make us droop,  
And unto Crosses and diseases stoop:  
That makes us Vain, Inconstant, and Unsure,  
Unable any good things to endure:  
It brings us to the servile base subjection,  
Of all loose Passion, and untamed affection:  
It leads us and compels us oft to stray  
Both beside Truth, and out of Reason's way.  
And lastly we, and that because of this,  
Either do Nothing; or do all amiss.  
Which being so, we may with David then,  
Confess that we are rather Worms than men.   

OF PRESUMPTION.  
SATYR. 4.  
SOft heedless Muse thou no advisement tak'st,  
Wast not of Men that last of all thou spak'st:  
It was: and of the weakness too of men,  
Come then with shame now and deny't again,  
Reca●t: for so the matter rhou didst handle,  
Thou mayst be cursed for't, with Bell Book & Candle:  
Is mankind weak? who then can by their powers,  
Into the Air hurl Palaces and Towers?  
And with one blaste'ne in a moment make,  
Whole Kingdoms and brave Monarchies to shake.  
Or what are they that dare for toaspire,  
Into God's seat; and if it might be higher:  
That forgive sins as fast as men can do them,  
And make jehovah be beholding to them?  
I've heard of such; what are they? would I wist;  
They can make Saints they say of whom they list:  
And being made, above the Stars canseat them  
Yea with their own hands make their Gods & eat them  
Ha? are they men; How dar'st thou then to speak,  
Such Blasphemy to say mankind is weak?  
I tell thee this Muse, either Man is strong,  
And through thy babbling thou hast done him wrong,  
Or else beyond his limits he doth err,  
And for presumption puts down Lucifer:  
Is't so? Nay then I prithee Muse go on,  
And let us hear of his presumption:  
For I do know, cause I have heard him vaunt,  
That he's a Creature proud and Arrogant:  
And it may be he is not of such might  
As he makes show for; but usurps some's right▪  
There't goes indeed, for though he be so base  
So weak, and in such miserable case,  
That I want words of a sufficient worth,  
To paint his most abhorred vileness forth:  
Yet such is also his detested Pride,  
That I suppose the Devil is belied  
By every man that shall affirm or say  
He is more proud; for do but mark I pray:  
This Creature man; did Natures powerful King,  
(God, that of nothing framed every thing)  
M●uld out of Clay; a piece which he had rend,  
E'en from the Earth the basest Element:  
And whereas he might have been made a Thrall,  
Yea and the very Vuderling of all;  
That God with title of Chief Ruler graced him,  
And as a Steward over all things placed him:  
Gave him a pleasant garden for to till,  
And Leave to eat of every tree at will.  
Only of one indeed he did deny him,  
And peradventure of that one, to try him;  
But see his insolence; though God did threat  
Death if he eat, and though that God was great,  
And so exceeding Just, that he well knew,  
All that he threatened doubtless would ensue:  
Though God were strong, & could, had man been prouder  
(Poor clay-bred worm) have stamped him into pouder●  
Yet (not withstanding all this same) did he  
Presume to taste of that forbidden tree.  
A rash beginning, but he sped so ill,  
D'ye think he held on this presumption still?  
To hear he had left that offence 'twere news,  
But Cain and Nimrod, Pharaoh and the Jews,  
show'd it continued; and grew much more,  
Rather than lesser▪ than it was before;  
Cain in his murder, and his proud reply;  
Nimrod in that he dared to build so high;  
Pharaoh by boldly tempting God, to show  
His sundry plagues to Egypt's overthrow;  
And many ways the last; but what need I,  
Recite examples of Antiquity?  
Or for to tax old ages for that crime,  
Since there was near a more presumptuous time  
Then this that's now; what dare not men to do,  
If they have any list or mind thereto?  
Their fellow creatures they do much contemn,  
Vaunting that all things were ordained for them;  
Yea both the gladsome days and quiet nights,  
Sun, Moon, & Heaven, with those glorious lights,  
Which so be spangle that fair azure roof,  
They think were only made for their behoof:  
When as alas their poor and weak command  
Cannot extend so far for to withstand  
The least Stars force; and them and their estate,  
Sun, Moon, and stars too, do predominate.  
Before our fall indded we did excel,  
All other creatures that on earth did dwell,  
But now I think the very worst that be,  
Have just as much to boast upon as we.  
Our soul's defil d; And therefore if in Sense  
We place our worth and chief prehemmence,  
'tis known that there be divers Creatures than  
Will have the upper hand; for they pass men;  
And though we still presume upon't, 'tis vain,  
To challenge our old Soveraingty again;  
For when that we from our obedience fell  
All things against us also did rebel,  
Lions and Bears, and Tigers sought our blood  
The barren earth denied to yield us food:  
The clouds reigned plagues, and yet dare we go on,  
We find such pleasure in Presumption.  
But for because there's some do scarcely know,  
How we do in that fault offend; I'll show.  
First, when that they new worshippings invent,  
And cannot hold themselves so well content  
With that which God doth in his word ordain,  
As with inventions of their own weak brain,  
It seems they think their fancies to fulfil,  
Would please him better than to have his will.  
Next I do reckon them, that overbold,  
God's sacred Legend have at will controlled,  
And maugre his grand-curse some places changed  
Added to some, and some again estranged;  
Then those great masters I presumptuous deem,  
That of their knowledge do so well esteem,  
They will force others, as the Papists do  
For to allow of their opinions to,  
Yea though it be a mere imagination,  
That neither hath good ground nor just foundation  
Some will be prying though they are forbidden,  
Into those secrets, God meant should be hidden.  
So do some students in Astrology,  
Though they can make a fair Apology▪  
And so do those that very vainly try,  
To find our fortunes by their Palmistry;  
These do presume, but much more such as say,  
At this or that time, comes the judgement day.  
Or such as ask, or dare for to relate,  
What God was doing ere he did create  
Heaven and Earth; or where he did abide,  
How and by whom, he then was glorified.  
But those that into such deep secrets wind.  
A slender profit in their labours find;  
For to make known how highly they offend,  
A desperate madness is ofttimes their end.  
Yet such their nature is, they'll not beware,  
But to be prying further still they dare,  
For sure that longing can no way be flaid,  
Which well the Poet seemed to know, who said,  
Man, what he is forbidden still desires,  
And what he is denied off, most requires.  
Rather than many will a man gainsay,  
They dare make bold with God, they think they may  
Because it seems they deem him not so strong,  
Or so well able to revenge a wrong.  
Some such great power to themselves assume,  
And on their own strength do so much presume,  
They seldom do for God's assistance crave,  
As if it were a needless thing to have;  
Which is the cause that often the conclusion  
Proves their own shame, their hindrance & confusion;  
In Praying, men presume, (Unless they be,  
With every one in love and charity:)  
Or if in their Petitions, they desire  
Such things as are unlawful to require;  
Death's their reward, we know, that break the law,  
But neither that, nor yet damnation's awe  
Keeps us from sin; a thousand Godheads more,  
Than one we make, and dare for to adore  
Our own hand-works; the Sabbath we disdain,  
And dreadless take the name of God in vain:  
If but by his Lord's hand an Irish swear,  
To violate that oath he stands in fear;  
Lest him of both his lands and goods he spoil,  
For making him the instrument of guile:  
And yet dare we (poor worms) before his face,  
(Respecting whom, the greatest Lords are base)  
Both swear, & forswear; using that great Name  
At pleasure, without any fear of blame:  
Why should not we as well suppose that he,  
Who in our hearts would have no fraud to be,  
Will miserable, poor, and naked leave us,  
Yea, of those Blessings and Estates bereave us  
We now hold of him, If we thus contemn,  
And still abuse his sacred name, and him?  
But men secure in wickedness persist  
As if they could please God with what they list;  
If they can, Lord have mercy on them say,  
And mumble some few prayers once a day,  
There needs no more; nay, surely there be such,  
That think it is enough; if not toomuch:  
But what's their reason? God made all the man,  
Why should he have but part allowed him than?  
He in their service nothing doth delight,  
Unless it be with all their strength and might,  
With their whole heart, & soul, and that way toe,  
As he appoints them in his word to do:  
Some men their are who hope by honesty,  
By their Almsdeeds, and works of Charity  
To win God's favour, and for to obtain  
Salvation by it; but their hope's in vain:  
Also, their's others cause they have the faith,  
For to believe 'tis true the Scripture saith,  
Since they have knowledge in Religion,  
And make thereof a strict profession:  
Or do observe the outward worship duly,  
Do think that their in they have pleased God truly.  
Now these are just as far as th'other wide,  
Or they Gods worship do by halves divide,  
And for his due which is e'en all the heart,  
Do dare presume to offer him a part;  
But th'one must know he will not pleased be,  
With a Religion that wants honesty:  
And th'other that as little good will do,  
His honest show without Religion toe;  
If this be so, (as so it is indeed)  
How then will those presumptuous fellows speed?  
Who think (forsooth) because that once a year,  
They can afford the poor some slender cheer;  
Observe their Country feasts, or Common doles,  
And entertain their Christmas wassail boles,  
Or else because that for the Churches good,  
They in defence of Hock-tide custom stood;  
A Whitsun-ale, or some such goodly motion,  
The better to procure young men's devotion:  
What will they do, I say, that think to please,  
Their mighty God with such vain things as these?  
Sure very ill; for though that they can moon,  
And say that Love and Charity is gone  
As old folks do, because their banquet,  
Their antient-drunken-summer revel  
Are out of date; though they can say through teaching,  
And since the Gospel hath had open preaching,  
Men are grown worse; though they can soon espy  
A little mote in their own neighbour's eye  
Yea though that they their Pater noster can,  
And call their honest neighbour Puritan;  
(How ere they in their own conceits may smile,  
Yet they are presumptuous, weak, and vile;  
Also in this abominable time,  
It is amongst us now a common crime,  
To flout and scoff at those which we do spy,  
Willing to shake off human Vanity;  
And those that gladly do themselves enforce,  
Unto a strict and more religious course,  
Then most men do; although, they truly know  
No men are able to pay half they owe (thought  
Unto their God, (as though their wisdoms  
He might be served better than he ought,  
They count precise and curious more than needs,  
They try their sayings and weigh all their deeds:  
A thousand things that they well do shall be,  
Slightly passed over as if none did see:  
But one thing ill done, (though the best does ill)  
They shall be certain for to hear of still;  
Yea not with standing they can daily smother,  
Millions of ten times greater faults in other:  
Who are so hated or so often blamed?  
Or so reviled, or scorned? or so misnamed?  
To whom do we now our contentions lay,  
Who are so much termed Puritans as they  
That fear God most? But 'tis no marvel men,  
Presume so much to wrong his children; when  
As if they feared not his revengeful rod,  
They can blaspheme and dare to anger God.  
Now by these words to some men it may seem,  
That I have Puritan in high esteem;  
Indeed, if by that name you understand,  
Those that the vulgar Atheists of this land,  
Do daily term so; that is such as are  
Forenamed here; and have the greatest care  
To know and please their maker: then 'tis true,  
I love them well; for love to such is due:  
But if you mean the busy headed sect,  
The hollow crew, the counterfeit Elect:  
Our D●gmatists, and ever-wrangling spirits,  
That do as well contemn good works, as merits:  
If you mean those that make their care seem great  
To get souls food, when 'tis for body's meat,  
Or those all whose Religion do depend,  
On this, that they know how to discommend  
A may-game, or a Summerpole defy,  
Or shake the head, or else turn up the eye;  
If you mean those, how ever they appear,  
This I say of them (would they all might hear)  
Though in a zealous habit they do wander,  
Yet they are Gods foes and the Church's slander;  
And though they humble be in show to many,  
They are as haughty every way as any.  
What need I here the lewd presumptions tell  
Of Papists in these days? 'tis known to well:  
For them there of each peasant now convinces,  
In things as well concerning God as Princes,  
Other▪ I find toe, that do dare presume,  
The Office of a Teacher to assume;  
And being blind themselves and gone astray,  
Take on them to show other men the way.  
Yea some there be, who have small gifts or spirit,  
No kind of knowledge, and as little merit;  
That with the world have made a firm conjunction▪  
Yet dare to undergo the sacred function  
Of Christ his Pastor. Yea such is their daring,  
That neither for their Charge nor Duty caring,  
Instead of giving good and sound Instruction,  
They lead themselves and others to Destruction.  
We read that jeremy and Moses both,  
To undertake their charge were wondrous loath:  
(The greatness of the same so much appalled them)  
Yea though that God himself directly called them:  
But our brave Clerks as if they did condemn,  
The two much bashful backwardness of them:  
Or else as if themselves they abler thought;  
Those Divine Callings, have not only sought  
Without respect of their Ability,  
A Christian Conscience or Civility,  
But being of old Simon Magus tribe,  
Purchase it often with a hateful bribe;  
Which shows that they such places do desire,  
Not for the good of others but their hire:  
But Patrons fear ye neither God nor hell?  
Dare ye the Church's patrimony sell  
For filthy lucre, in despite of Law  
Sacred or human? Pedants dare ye? hah?  
Dare you buy't of them? by God's help, unless  
This villainy ere long, have some redress,  
I'll find a means, or else let me have blame,  
To bring some smart, or else eternal shame  
Upon you for't; it may be you do sent it,  
But all your policy shall not prevent it:  
What do you look for Hell and your Damnation?  
Well you shall have it by Impropriation;  
I know now you have entered Simony,  
You'll double damn yourselves with Perjury.  
For, they as oft together may be seen,  
As is the chilling fever and the spleen,  
But oh dear Countrymen be more advised,  
Think what God is he may not be despised.  
Could you well weigh his justice and his power,  
How many infinites it passeth over:  
And knew his judgements we would not dissemble  
An outward feigned reverence; but tremble  
And shake with horror; you'd not dare to venture  
Sanctum Sanctorum so unfit to enter;  
His Churches good you rather would advance,  
Then rob it thus of her inheritance;  
Or make the same (as men still unbelieving)  
Like to a house of Merchandise and Thieving.  
You to whom deeds of former times are known,  
Mark to what pass this age of ours is grown,  
Even with us that strictest seem to be,  
In the professing Christianity;  
You know men have been careful to augment,  
The Church's portion and have been content  
To add unto it out of their estate;  
And Sacrilege all Nations did so hate  
That the mere Irish who seemed not to care,  
For God nor Man had the respect to spare  
The Church's profits; yea their heed was such  
That in the time of need they would not touch,  
The known provisions, they daily saw,  
Stored up in Churches: in such fear and awe  
The places held them; though that they did know  
The things therein belonged to their foe:  
But now the world & man's good natures changed  
From this opinion most men are estranged;  
We rob the Church, and what we can attain  
By Sacrilege and theft is our best gain:  
In paying dues the refuse of our stock,  
The barrenest and leanest of our flock  
Shall serve our Pastor? whom for to deceive  
We think no sin; nay further (by your leave)  
Men seek not to impropriate a part  
Unto themselves: but they can find in heart  
T'engross up all: which vile presumption,  
Hath brought Church-livings to a strange consumption  
And if this strong disease do not abate,  
'Twil be the poorest member in the State;  
No marvel though in steed of learned Preachers,  
We have been pestered with such simple Teachers  
Such poor, mute, tongue-tied readers, as scarce know  
Whether that God made Adam first or no:  
Thence it proceeds, and there's the cause that Place  
And Office at this time incurs disgrace.  
For men of judgement or good dispositions,  
Scorn to be tied to any base conditions:  
Like to our hungry Pedants, who'll engage,  
Their souls for any curtold Vicarage.  
I say there's none of knowledge, wit, or merit▪  
But such as are of a most servile spirit,  
That will so wrong the Church as to presume,  
Some poore-halfe-demi-Parsnage to assume  
In name of all; no, they had rather quite  
Be put beside the same, than wrong Gods right,  
Well, they must entertain such Pedants then,  
Fitter to feed swine, than the souls of men:  
But Patrons think such best, for there's no fear  
They will speak any thing they loathe to hear;  
They may run foolishly to their own damnation,  
Without reproof or any disturbation;  
To let them see their vice they may be bold,  
And yet not stand in doubt to be contoled:  
Those in their houses may keep private Schools,  
And either serve for jesters or for fools,  
And will suppose that they are highly graced,  
Be they but at their Patron's table placed:  
And there if they be called but Priests in scoff,  
Strait they duck down and all their caps come off,  
Supposing it for to be done in kindness,  
Which shows their Weakness & apparent Blindness.  
Moreover 'tis well known that former time  
Held it to be a vild presumptuous crime;  
Such men in sacred Offices to place,  
Whom they knew touched with any foul disgrace:  
Or to allow those whom they did suspect,  
To have an outward bodily defect:  
But be they now not only crooked, lame,  
Dismembered, and of the unshapeliest frame  
That ever Nature formed; though they be blind,  
Not in sight only, but as well in mind,  
Though they be such who if they come to shreeuin●  
Might confess murder, whoredom, slander, thieving  
And all damned villainy; yet these men will be  
Admitted to the sacred Ministry:  
But most of us do now disdain that Place,  
Accounting it unworthy, mean, and base;  
Yea like to jeroboams Priests, we see,  
They of the lowest of the people he:  
And though we know, the Israelites allowed  
God the first-born for his; we are so proud,  
Unless they either do want shape or wit,  
Or seem for worldly business unfit:  
Few think God's service worthy the bestowing  
Their Child about it; or such duty owing  
Unto the same; but rather that Vocation  
They count a blemish to their reputation.  
But where's your understanding, oh you men?  
Turn from your brutish dullness once again,  
Honour God's Messengers for why 'tis true,  
To them both Reverence and Honour's due;  
Think what they are and be not still selfe-minded,  
Suffer not reason to be so much blinded;  
If not for love that you to justice bear,  
Yet follow her (although it be) for fear:  
And see that this presumption you amend,  
Or look some heavy plague shall be your end.  
Then it is also a presumptuous act,  
With knowledge to commit a sinful fact  
Though ne'er so small; for sin's a subtle else,  
That by degrees insinuates itself  
Into our souls; and in a little space,  
Becomes too-huge a Monster to displace;  
Yea, it is certain that one sin, though small,  
Will make entrance great enough for all;  
And what is't but presumption to abuse,  
And without-feare and reverence to use  
Gods sacred Word; yet we that Christ profess,  
Think it no fault, or that there's no fault less:  
Else sure we would not in our common talk,  
Let our loose tongues so much at random walk,  
We would not dare our jests of that to make,  
At uttering whereof the Heavens shake;  
For if God had revealed his Gospel news,  
To us as heretofore unto the jews  
He did the Law; who heard him to their wonder  
Speaking through fearful fiery flames and thunder,  
We would more dread in any evil fashion:  
To use that sacred means of our suluation  
Our cursed Pagan unbelieving foe,  
I mean the Turk, more reverence doth show  
In those his damned erroneous Rites than we  
In the true worship: for 'tis known that he  
Will not so much as touch his Alcharon,  
That doth contain his false Religion  
With unwashed hands; nor till he hath o'rewent  
All that his vain and confused rabblement  
Of Ceremonies used; much less dares look,  
On the Contents of that unhallowed book;  
But we in midst of all our villainy,  
In our pot-conference and ribaldry,  
Irreverently can the same apply,  
As if 'twere some of Pasquil's Litany:  
But soft my Muse in her perambulation  
Hath happed upon an Excommunication:  
And though that her Commission she wanted  
Yet she made bold to search wherefore 'twas granted  
Which if you would know too, why it may be,  
Some were so pleased because they lacked a fee:  
For, had the Officers been well contented,  
They say the matter might have been prevented▪  
But you that have the wisdoms to discern  
When abuse is; pray tell me, I would learn;  
Misuse we Excommunication?  
You know it is a Separation  
From God; and a most fearful banishment,  
From the partaking of his Sacrament  
And good men's fellowship; a sad exile,  
(Perhaps for ever, at the least a while)  
From the true Church; and (oh most horrid evil)  
A giving of Men over to the Devil.  
And therefore was ordained in better times,  
Only for such who in their heinous crimes  
With hardened obstinacy did persist,  
As may appear: but now we at our list,  
As if the same but some slight matter were,  
For every trifle to pronounce it dare;  
And peradventure to, on such as be,  
More honest far, and better much than we:  
But since my Muse hath her endeavour done  
To note how men into this fault do run;  
I will be bold to let you understand,  
One strange Presumption noted in our land  
Worth the amending; and indeed 'tis this  
Readers pray judge how dangerous it is;  
We seeing God hath now removed far,  
From this our Country his just plague of war,  
And made us through his mercy so much blest,  
We do in spite of all our foes yet rest  
Exempt from danger; by us it appears,  
Through the great blessing of these quiet years,  
We are so fearless careless and secure  
In this our happy peace and so cocksure  
As if we did suppose or heard it said,  
Oul● Mars were strangled or the Devil dead;  
Else can I not believe we would so lightly,  
Esteem our safely and let pass so slightly  
Our former care of Martial discipline,  
For exercises merely Feminine:  
We would not see our Arms so soiled in dust,  
Nor our bright blades eat up with cankered rust,  
As now they be; our Bows they lie and rot,  
Both Musket and Caliver is forgot,  
And we lie open to all Foreign dangers  
For want of Discipline 'tis known to Strangers  
Though we'll not see't; Alas will not our pleasure,  
Let us be once in seven years at leisure  
To take a muster and to give instruction?  
No rather Pleasure will be our destruction;  
For That first caused the Law, that now prevents,  
And bars the use of Pouder-instruments  
To be enacted; why? for to preserve  
An idle Game, the which I wish might starve  
Amids our plenty, so that with their curse,  
The land and people might be nothing worse,  
'Cause for that trifle to the realms abuse,  
The hand-gun hath been so much out of use  
Scarce one in forty if to proof it came,  
Dares or knows how for to discharge the same:  
Oh valiant English we are like to hold  
The glory that our fathers had of old.  
But sure I think some undermining hand,  
That studies for the ruin of the land,  
Is cause of this, in hope thereby at length,  
To weaken ours and let in foreign strength;  
What, do we think cause theirs a truce with Spain,  
That we are safe? Alas that thought is vain,  
Our dangers rather more; for while they dared,  
To proffer wrong they found us still prepared;  
The profitable fear that we were in  
Prevented danger that might else have been.  
But now the cause of former fear is gone,  
We have not only let all care alone,  
But also are so drunken with delights,  
And drowned in pleasure that our dulled spirits  
Are so o'recloged with Luxury; we droop,  
More fit for Venus then for Mars his troup;  
That if our foes should now so venturous be,  
For to invade the lan●, unless that we,  
With speed amend this error, here's my mind,  
The way to work our ruin they'll soon find;  
For just the Troyans' last night's watch we keep,  
Who then were buried all in ●ine and sleep.  
We read when Cato should a Captain choose,  
For the Panonian fight, he did refuse  
His kinsman Publius, cause that from the war  
He often had returned without a scar,  
And went perfumed; but if such faults as these,  
Displeased the Censor, sure then in our days  
He scarcely would in town or country find,  
A man with us according to his mind,  
Such is our daintiness; Besides to strangers,  
(As if there were no cause to doubt of dangers)  
We do not only our great riches show,  
(A shrewd temptation to allure a foe:)  
But we moreover plainly do declare,  
By fond apparel, too superfluous fare,  
Much idleness and other wanton parts,  
That we have weak effeminated hearts;  
Which being known are sure a great persuasion,  
Unto our enemies to make invasion.  
But we do say in God's our only trust,  
On him we do depend; well so we must,  
And yet we ought not therefore to disdain,  
The lawful means by which he doth ordain,  
To work our safety then, for that's a sign,  
We rather loved to tempt the powers divine,  
Then trust unto them; worthy Britons' then,  
Leave this presumption, once again be men,  
Not weak Sardanapali; leave those toys  
To idle women, wanton Girls and boys:  
Unto your foes I wish you could betake them,  
Or unto any so you would forsake them.  
Let Martialists that long have been disgraced  
Be loved again and in our favours placed:  
Count not them rogues; but rather such as can  
So much degenerate themselves from Man,  
In tire and gesture both, to womanize,  
Goc call a Parliament and there devise  
An act to have them whipped now; oh 'twere good,  
A deed well worthy such a noble brood,  
Mean while let's trim our rusty arms and scour,  
Those long unused well-steeld blades of our:  
We shall not do the spiders any wrong,  
For they have rent-free held their houseroom long  
In Morions, Helmets, Gauntlets, Bandileres;  
Displace them thence, they have had all their years:  
And give it such a lustre that the light,  
May dim the Mooncshine in a winter's night;  
Away with idle Cithernes', Lutes, and tabor,  
Let knocks requite the fiddlers for their labours,  
Bring in the Warlike Drum, 'twill music make ye,  
That from your drowsy pleasures will awake ye:  
Or else the heartening trumpet, that from far,  
May sound unto you all the points of war:  
Let Dances turn to Marches; you ere long,  
May know what doth to ranks and files belong,  
And let your thundering shot so smoke and roar,  
Strangers may tremble to behold the shore,  
And know you sleep not; But now to what end  
Do you suppose that I these words do spend?  
Believe me I'm not male content with Peace.  
Or do desire this happy time might cease,  
I would not have you foul Seditions make,  
Or any unjust wars to undertake;  
But I desire you leave those idle fashions,  
That have been the just fall of many nations;  
Look well unto yourselves and not suppose,  
Cause there's a league with Spain you have no foes:  
For if Wars ever make this land complain,  
It will be through some Truce it had with Spain:  
But here I bid you once again beware,  
Delay not time but with all speed prepare,  
Repair your forts again, and man them well,  
Place better Captains in them; I can tell  
Some are grown Covetous and there's no trust  
To such as they; that vice makes men unjust:  
They pocket up the wages of their men,  
And One poor soldier serves alone for Ten:  
Look to the Navy-royall, were't well scanned,  
I doubt it will be found but simply man'd:  
The Pursers' study (if some not bely them)  
Only which way they may have profit by them;  
But see unto it you to whom 't belongs,  
See the Abuses done, redress the wrongs:  
And oh! renew the forces of this land,  
For there's a fearful bloody day at hand,  
Though not foreseen, a bloody day for some,  
Nor will the same be long before it come.  
There is a tempest brewing in the So●th,  
A horrid Vapour forced from hell's own mouth.  
'Tis spread already far into the West,  
And now begins to gather to the East;  
When 'tis at full once it will strait come forth  
To shower down all it Vengeance on the North:  
But fear not little Isle thy cause is right,  
And if thou hast not cast all care off quite,  
Nor art secure, why by that token than  
Thou shalt drive back that threatening storm again▪  
Through Cod assistance for to ruin those,  
By, and amongst whom, first of all it rose:  
But if that still thou careless snorting lie  
In thy presuming blind security,  
Take't for a sign that now thy sins are ripe,  
And thou shalt surely feel the deathful stripe  
Of that ensuing ill, unto thy shame,  
And extirpation of thy former fame:  
But yet I hope this over-fight will end,  
And we shall this presumptuous fault amend:  
I hope I say and yet I hope no harms,  
To see our English youth tricked up in arms;  
And so well trained that all their foes shall hear  
No news from them but Horror, Death, and Fear;  
Yea and their march, like Jehu's King of jury,  
Shall show they come with vengeance speed & fury,  
I would we could as easily forsake,  
Other Presumptions, and that we could take  
But half the care and diligence to arm  
Our souls, in danger of a greater harm:  
Would we the holy weapons could assume  
Of Christian warfare, and not still presume  
To leave our better parts all open so,  
For the advantage of the greater foe  
Than Rome or Spain: oh would we could begin,  
To feel the danger of Presumptuous sin!  
Which soon would be, if we would once be brought  
For to consider with an equal thought,  
Our base Beginning and infirmity,  
Our wavering and wondrous misery:  
And with this wretched poor estate of our,  
Gods infinite and all-sufficient power:  
His justice, with his hatred unto ill,  
And threatenings if we disobey his will.  
Or else remember he did still behold  
And see us when we sinned; for who so bold,  
Unless deprived of grace then to offend?  
But it should seem we our endeavours bend  
To anger God, for we of sin complain,  
Yet with our will sin in his sight again.  
Say, were't not a presumption very great,  
If coming to a King one should entreat  
A pardon for some murder, and yet bring  
The bloody blade with which he did that thing  
He would have mercy for? & whilst he's speaking,  
Sheath it again with blood and gore yet reeking,  
In the King's son before his father's face,  
And yet still bide as if he hoped for Grace:  
Should we not think him mad? sure yes; yet we  
Cannot that madness in our own selves see:  
For we dare come before th' almighty King  
To sue for pardon for our sins; yet bring  
The self same bad mind still, conceiving murder  
Against his children to provoke him further.  
And look what ill is but in thought begun,  
With him's all one as if the same were done,  
It is no marvel that no human law,  
Can keep our overdaring hearts in awe:  
Since that we do so little dread the rod,  
Of such a powerful and so just a God:  
And if in man's and Gods own sight we dare,  
So searelesse sin without respect or care,  
It seems that we do little conscience make  
What mischiefs by ourselves we undertake:  
Or think it no Presumption to commit,  
Something alone in our own sight unfit;  
Oh gross and ignorant! why that's the worst,  
Of all presumptions the most accursed  
And fulst of Danger. Silly man take heed,  
Do not before thyself an evil deed;  
For when God will forgive and man forget,  
Thy own ill Conscience will oppose and set  
Herself against thee; tell thee thine offending,  
And keep thee back from ever apprehending  
Grace of forgiveness; neither will afford  
The smallest comfort of the sacred word:  
But rather to thy sad remembrance call,  
Each saying that may serve to prove thy fall:  
And though that fire wondrous torture brings  
Unto the body, yet when conscience stings  
Nor fire nor sword, nor hell itself can yield,  
Aworser to meant; God defend and shield  
Me from the like; and give me grace to fear,  
So, that I may preserve my Conscience clear  
In all my actions: And then I shall be,  
In better case a thousand fold than he  
That unto wealth and honour hath obtained,  
With a crazed Conscience that is blurred and stained:  
Alas how easy wert to climb or mount  
To worldly Reputation and Account?  
How soon could I if I had an intention  
For to contrive or plot a damned invention  
Get golden heaps? yea and so privily,  
That though 'twere done by craft and villainy,  
I by the blinded World would yet be deemed  
Perhaps more honest; but much more esteemed  
Then now I am; But God forbid that I  
Such base vain trash and dunghill stuff should buy  
At such a rate; for there's no jewel dearer,  
Nor any loss a man can have go nearer  
Than peace of Conscience; which for to be true,  
The ancient Poets very wisely knew,  
And therefore feigned their F●ries, with intent,  
For to declare the inward punishment  
Of guilty minds; which sure they might do well,  
For there is in them Devils, yea and hell,  
With all her torture; what else was the cause,  
Nero who knew no God nor feared laws,  
When he had killed his mother took no rest,  
But thought he saw her coming to molest  
And plague him for't? What made him to surmise  
He was still tortured in such hellish wise  
That furies did to his appearance scorch  
His living body with a burning torch?  
Wast not his Conscience that had privy been  
Unto the fact? was not the cause within  
His own bad self? If 'twere let's to amending,  
Of our presumptuous sins, and bold offending,  
If neither in regard of God nor men,  
Oh le's for fear of our own Conscience then.  
Yet there's another thing which wert well weighed  
Our rash presumption would be somewhat stayed.  
The End of life; with the ne're-ending pain,  
God for presumptuous sinners doth ordain,  
Could we note that, with deaths uncertain times,  
And how it takes men acting of the crimes  
Even in the very nick of their offence,  
And bears them, ere they can repent them, hence,  
To such a place where nothing shall appear,  
But all the Ghastly objects of grim fear:  
Whereas each sense shall severally sustain,  
The miserable smart of endless pain:  
The tender feeling shall in every part,  
Be subject to th' intolerable smart  
Of hellish flames, commixed with chilling cold,  
Tortures beyond conceit, not to be told;  
The dainty mouth, that had the Curious't taste,  
And of the choicest cates still made repast,  
Shall be filled up, yea belly, throat and all,  
With filth more loath-some than the bitterest gall  
The once perfumed Nostril, there shall drink,  
Fowl noisome smells: beside the sulphuroous stink  
Of choking flames; and there the listening ear,  
Fed with the sound of pleasing Music hear,  
Shall change it for the woeful screeching cry  
Of Damned souls, that in hell's torture lie;  
Whose hideous howl can by no defence,  
Be kept from piercing that amazed sense:  
And then while they shall trembling think to fly  
From those amazements that do seem so nigh,  
To there the feareful'st objects of the sight,  
Their quite despairing minds shall more affright,  
For garish forms of foul misshapen fiends,  
And ugly Bugs for evermore attends,  
To thwhart each look. But if this do not make,  
Thy over hardened heart (oh man) to quake:  
If this relation be too weak to win,  
Or to reclaim thee from thy wont sin;  
Reader, if this do no impression leave,  
So that thou canst not any fear conceive  
Through this description; think upon't at night  
Soon in thy bed when earth's deprived of light  
I say at midnight when thou wakest from sleep,  
And lonely darkness doth in silence keep  
The Grim-faced night. And but imagine then,  
Thou wert borne all alone to some dark den  
And there set naked; though thou felts no pain,  
Yet seeing no way to get out again,  
If thou shouldst in that naked loneness hear,  
Some yelling voice, or some strange noise drawne●●  
With threatening; or but calling on thy name;  
Oh with what Patience couldst thou bide the sam●  
But if withal, thy wandering eyes should mark,  
And now and then see pearing through the dar●  
Some monstrous visages, or ugly faces  
Which should make proffer of some rude embr●●●  
And smetime seem as if they would begin  
With griping paws to seize thy trembling ski●  
Or, but suppose that in thy Chamber there,  
Where cannot be the hundredth part of fear:  
(Because to thee the place well known will be  
And thou must have wherewith to cover thee)  
Yet there I say suppose thou shouldst behold  
Nor such grim objects as are here foretold,  
But Only hear the doleful voice of men  
Complaining in the dark; And now and then  
Behold the ghastly shape of friends long dead,  
Wrapped in their sheets as they were buried,  
Or else from out thy Chamber floor to rise  
A troop of bony, picked Anatomies  
Come pointing to thee, as if thou wert he  
That must ere long their bare companion be:  
Then thou wouldst fear I know, and think on him  
Whose might & fearful power thou didst contemn  
Thou wouldst consider better of the fear,  
And hellish horror I have mentioned hear.  
That Dungeons estate thou wouldst conceive,  
And somewhat thy presumptuous actions leave;  
Thou wouldst not so cast all thy care behind thee,  
But watch thyself for fear least death should find thee,  
Doing some ill; nor wouldst thou thus delay,  
Times of repentance still from day to day:  
But oh! show should I hope that this I plead,  
Will work in them that shall but barely read  
What I have writ? Since I myself that know,  
And have some inward ceiling of that woe  
For get myself; I thought when I shall be  
From such, and such like cares and troubles free,  
Then will I all my vanities forsake,  
A better course of life I'll undertake,  
And only seek the glory of his name  
By whom I live; That day ere long time came;  
Then I had other lets; but if that they,  
As I did seek they might were once away,  
I would indeed my duty better do:  
Well, so it pleased God I orepast them too;  
Yet something hindered still that I could never  
In my intended Christian course persever.  
But ever found unto my grief and sorrow,  
That I was bad to day and worse to morrow:  
But oh! thou God that know'st my heart's desire,  
Do not; oh do not at my hands require  
My youthful sins; though that my flesh be frail,  
And my affections often do prevail:  
Seeing thou knowest the weak estate of man,  
And what a little his small power can;  
Accept my will, and let thy blood suffice,  
To quit the rest of mine iniquities,  
But now, because I have observed such store,  
I needs must tell a few presumptions more.  
Some in contemning others wisdom, show,  
That they presume themselves do all things, kno●  
But that vile self-conceit near raised any,  
Certain I am it is the fall of many:  
Others (and they in this kind too offend,)  
On their own Memories too much depend:  
Such I have heard so confidently speak,  
As if they had no thought that men were wea●  
Yea those though twenty men have all gainsaid  
What they affirmed, were not yet afraid,  
Their own bare affirmation to outface,  
With sundry oaths: such wondrous trust they place  
In their remembrance; yea myself ere now  
Have been oft-times more rash for to enough  
What I thought truth; then ere I'll be again:  
For what I deemed to be so sure and plain,  
That I not only stood in't to my might,  
But would have pawned my life 'thad been the right  
That to my shame, I have myself alone,  
Found to be false when all the rest were gone.  
Which grieved me so that I'll near more rely  
Or trust so much to mine own memory.  
But what may I term those, who for a name,  
Or for to get some vile preposterous fame;  
Will desperately for the nonce begin,  
To put in action some ungodly sin  
That all men loath; and only as they say,  
For to be talked of. What are such I pray?  
Presumptuous, vain, or weak, or all that's bad,  
The last I think and ten-times more than mad;  
Yet we have gallants, and great store of such,  
That in their great Bravadoes care not much  
What villainies they do; But 'tis their humour,  
Only to fill men's mouths with idle Rumour.  
And cause they know the Vulgar sort do deem them,  
Youths of great Spirit, and do much esteem them,  
But amongst wisemen they are sure to gain.  
Reproachful shame and well deserved disdain,  
Yet for to add some fame unto this story:  
We will bequeath them Erostratus glory.  
Nor have our old men left that humour yet,  
For though through feebleness they are unfit  
To put in practise their old tricks again,  
Yet for to show they like them, and would feign,  
they'll often with a lie or two recite them,  
And the remembrance doth so much delight them  
That whereas they ought rather to repent,  
And with a grieved heart for to lament  
Their former folly; They with joy and Laughter  
Seem to approved in those that shall come after.  
Yet there's a crew the which my Muse well knows,  
To them she here a Memorandum owes  
And yet no Commendations, for they are  
But busy fellows that do boldly dare  
Take on them in their comments, for to find  
The secret meaning of each Author's mind.  
And to apply that in particular  
That should extend to all in general:  
And in this little book perhaps they can,  
Say here I meant one, there another man;  
And by their names they will not stick to show them,  
When as perhaps I near so much as knew them.  
So from my honest meaning they will rear them  
A slander for some private grudge they bear them  
But though these are so bold, yet I believe,  
Or hope at least▪ no men of wisdom give  
Credit to any such interpretations,  
That are but false imaginations;  
Since each of these what style soe'er he crave,  
Doth show him a presumptuous fool and knave,  
But hear all you that are quite void of care,  
What you presume in: chiefly you that dare,  
Maugre God's threats, go forward to fulfil,  
Your naughty, rash, unbridled harebrain will;  
As if you thought that you yourselves made all,  
And that indeed there were no God at al.  
Know this, ere long time it shall come to pass,  
That you shall howling sit and cry, alas:  
Cursing your births and miserable state,  
With sad repentance when it is too late,  
Unless you now take time. Oh worms! oh men!  
Forsake your follies, oh forsake them then,  
What will you do else when that seized by death,  
Ready to draw the latest gasp of breath:  
When as you are so weak that you would feign,  
But cannot move your tongues for to complain?  
What would you do if than their should appear  
The Authors of most miserable fear,  
Your guilty Consciences, and there unroll  
To your remembrances the dreadful scroll,  
Of your Presumptions, and with all present,  
● vision of th' infernal punishment,  
prepared for such? And if in that bad case,  
You should behold him you esteemed so base  
●t with such power, that at each frown he makes  
●he earth doth tremble and the heaven shakes:  
What would you do? Oh any thing I'm sure,  
●o pain there is but you would then endure  
To scape his wrath if you do not despair,  
Then will you beg, entreat, and promise fair;  
Or any thing, if so it were you might  
Return to life again; than you would quite  
Alter your doings, then forsooth you'll be  
A pattern unto all posterity.  
You would be humble, meek, devout and chaste  
But now there's time, and then it may be past:  
Yet I myself have heard those that have vowed,  
Much in their anguish, and God hath allowed  
A longer time, yea hath vouchsafed to save  
And give them life again e'en at the grave:  
And yet have these forgot their former pain  
And turned unto their own ill ways again:  
Which having seen, this for us men I'll speak,  
Not without grief; though nothing be so weak:  
Yet we are in our own conceits so tall,  
That for presumption we do outpass all:  
And if so be that this same hardening sin  
Do seize upon the heart once and get in;  
My mind is this 'twill near be purged thence well,  
No not with all the fears and pangs of Hell.   

EPILOGUS.  
SO in some measure I have now made known.  
What foul abuses Time to me hath shown  
And what man is: I have explained some Crimes  
That I have noted in these present times.  
Then though I have been still accounted idle,  
This shows I have not given time the bridle  
To run away unmanaged; But did use it  
Then best, when I seemed most for to abuse it?  
Here sinful man thou mayst behold in part  
Thy miserable state and what thou art:  
Thy Passions, thy vanities here see,  
In part I say for all there cannot be:  
Thy waverings and thy frailties I've explained,  
With thy Presumption, yet nothing feigned;  
If thou hast read it, than I hope thou knowst,  
Though thou seem'st bad, thou art worse than thou showest  
And I do trust thy wretchedness espied,  
Will quell thy most intolerable pride;  
I mused a while thou wert so prone to sinning,  
But 'twas thy fault I see from the beginning:  
And as the Lord himself once said, so still,  
T' imaginations of thy heart are ill:  
That's one main cause; then to perform an evil,  
Thou hast the proneness of the flesh, the Devil,  
With bad examples of his instigation,  
Besides the worlds rash approbation:  
But yet would I not have thee think, oh man!  
That I with Timon the Athenian  
Desire to make thee so much feel thy woe,  
To go and hang thyself; I mean not so,  
Or for to drive thee thereby to despair,  
'Tis not my purpose, my intent's more fair:  
This I would have thee do, since flesh is frail,  
And Satan will be busy to prevail:  
With heed and care watch over thy affection,  
And in thy doings follow this direction.  
First see if't be thy flesh that moves thee to  
Those things the which thou art about to do,  
Next to consider well it doth behove thee,  
What kind of men they are that do approve thee:  
For true it is as I have oft been taught,  
What flesh desires, and most approves is nought.  
And since they thrust thee forward unto evil,  
Thou hast an ill heart, proud flesh, and the Devil  
With bad example. Learn oh man to season,  
Thy heart with sacred, thoughts, with truth & reason  
Thy flesh with labour; and with fasting tame  
And 'twil not be so subject unto blame;  
Prevent the devils baits and his temptations,  
With earnest prayers and good meditations,  
And see thou heed to thy companions giv'st,  
Since thou wilt be as these with whom thou liv'st;  
Yea since thou art so subject unto sin,  
eat all occasions that may draw thee in,  
So when thy God shall see thou hast a will,  
And true desire for to amend what's ill,  
He will accept it for his sons dear sake,  
And thee more willing, and more able make;  
Yea should thy Sins more red than scarlet grow,  
Yet he would make them whiter than the snow.  
Thy now black soul, were it thrice more defiled,  
As innocent as is the new borne child:  
And thy most miserable body, far  
More glorious than is the brightest Star:  
But if thou, without care or heed, dost lean  
Unto those lusts of flesh that are unclean;  
If thou take pleasure and delight to do them,  
Quite giving over thy desire unto them,  
They both in soul and body toe, will make thee  
So fowl a Leper that God will forsake thee;  
His holy Angels and his Saints abhor thee,  
And only Devils make entreaty for thee;  
Yea thou must in Gehynnon wail with them,  
That are excluded new jerusalem.   
The end of the second book.   

THE SCOURGE.  
MY Muse I purposed to have rested here,  
And so she should indeed, but that I fear  
A gentle warning will not now suffice  
To make men leave off their iniquities:  
Yea, I do know their negligence so great,  
'tis not enough for to persuade or threat:  
And therefore I'm resolved ere I part,  
To give them a remembrance to their smart,  
And though full loath, cause their ill natures urge  
I'll send abroad a Satir with a scourge,  
That to their shame for this abuse shall strip them,  
And being naked in their vices, whip them:  
And to be sure of these that are most rash,  
Not one shall scape him that deserves a lash,  
But some will kick, now let them kick & spare not,  
So he may come and jerk them well I care not;  
For be they rich, or poor, or weak, or strong,  
I'll make him find them that delight in wrong,  
Not in despite, to make revengeful rumours;  
Rather in sport to mock the world's base humours;  
But lest I make my Prologue over-large,  
‛ I'll let my whipping-Satyr know his charge:  
First though he have but little manners got;  
Bred in the woods; where many use them not:  
Yet will I send him to survey the court,  
And dance the Witch to make his king some sport.  
Do satire, go, thou shalt not be disdained,  
Love without merit hath been entertained,  
And so many thine; that Progenies the most,  
Yea all indeed of which the world can boast,  
And that so worthy: ('tis a wondrous matter)  
Commend it how thou wilt thou canst not flatter.  
If thou mayst get their favour that's the best,  
There is no cause why thou shouldst fear the rest  
The good will help but never hurt, then care not,  
Although the wicked would offend they dare not.  
First lash the great ones, but if thou be wise,  
In general and do not speciallize:  
Yet if thou do, so wisely let it be,  
None may except but those that faulty be.  
Now peradventure some will rage or storm,  
But that's no matter thou art freely borne;  
And though their eyes spark fire, and they look big  
Be thou as stern, thou needest not care a fig;  
And tell them plainly ' 'tis not all their show,  
Can make them think them better than they know;  
'Tis not great words, nor yet a large possession,  
Shall free them from the scandal of oppression,  
Though they can now, to get themselves a name,  
Build Babel up a new, and quickly frame  
Such lofty Palaces as if they meant,  
To threaten heaven from the batlement.  
Who wonders at it? none I think; and why?  
Who is so mad to tell them that, not I?  
Yet satire look that thou before thou part,  
Give them one jerk to make their honours smart,  
Their Stately houses say are things but vain:  
An age or two shall rot them down again;  
And for their vice if there be none dare show it,  
Say I have vowed to make the world to know it,  
Then 'tis not tombs nor yet a heap of stones,  
Shall make men think the better of their bones,  
No, it shall speak their Avarice and pride,  
Which those they scorned and wronged, shall then deride.  
So let them go their Sovereign to attend,  
And those that be not at the best, amend:  
Search on for more; but if thou hap to find  
Any among them of the female kind,  
Women or Angels, bad or good; thine eyes  
Shall not look toward their infirmities.  
What ere some say, no man will, or can,  
Wrong him (I'll warrant) that's an honest man,  
For they are good and surely would be still,  
Were't not that men did often make them ill:  
Those that are angry with them let them show it,  
I'll say th' are Virtuous for because I know it.  
men's faults I tell, so may he women's too  
That's plagued by whores, with whom he had to do.  
These if thou hap to see, I charge thee skip,  
And search in every office with thy whip;  
There, there are those that for their private store  
Make both th' exchequer & the commons poor,  
Extortion doth maintain their bravery,  
Yet lay not open all their knavery,  
But tell them they a new account must bring,  
That lash perhaps their guilty soul will sting.  
Thou shalt in Court another troup espy,  
Such as in show are full of honesty,  
Fair tongued; but he that such fine followers wants  
Is happy; for they are but Sycophants,  
Dissembling▪ Villains: do but note them well,  
And thou wilt say they are the brood of hell.  
For pluck away their feigned fidelity,  
And they are e'en a heap of villainy:  
To make them smart these words to them commend  
That beggary and shame shall be their end.  
Yet thou shalt find depending on the Court  
Some that will jest to make their betters sport,  
But sift them, I durst pawn a brace of testers,  
If truth were known they are more fools than jesters  
And so they are supposed, although indeed,  
They are more knaves than fools; but take thou heed  
Come not within the compass of their Babble,  
Then call them knaves as loud as thou art able;  
If thou come thither at some public show,  
As there thou shalt be whether they will or no,  
Remember that thou make a shift to creep  
near to the place where they the Re●els keep.  
There stand a while unseen, and do no more,  
But note those fellows that do keep the door,  
If thou perceive some, as some will do then,  
Keep out a many worthy Gentlemen,  
And let a Laundress or a Scoundrel pass,  
Give him a jerk and tell him he's an ass;  
But lest thou spy what may make thee ashamed,  
Or speak of that for which thou mayst be blamed,  
Leave thou the Court if thy own ease thou pity,  
And come a while to walk about the City▪  
As soon as there thou enterst thou shalt meet  
Great store of Gallants pacing out the street:  
A part from dice, or fence, or dancing come,  
And peradventure from a whorehouse some,  
Those are goodfellows that will frankly spend,  
While land will last or any man will lend;  
And yet to see (more fools the world had never)  
They are so proud as if't 'twould last for ever,  
And though these lightly cannot have a worse,  
Or deadlier sickness than an empty purse  
Which will ensue, yet tell them they must meet  
At the Kinges-bench, the Counter, or the Fleet,  
Then step unto the Lawyers, peradventure  
They'll by some Writ command thee not to enter:  
Yet fear them not but look and thou shalt spy,  
Under their gowns a mess of Knavery.  
Pluck off their mask of law that cloaks their drifts,  
And thou shalt see a world of lawless shir●s;  
But tell them there's a judge will not be feed,  
And that perhaps will make their conscience bleed;  
Then tell the Scriveners as thou passest by:  
That they were best to leave their forgery,  
Or else, why is't their ears do scape so well,  
The Devil means to bear them whole to hell▪  
Tell the Physicians if thou meet with any,  
Their Potions & their Drugs have murmured many  
For which thou wouldst have lashed, but dost delay them  
Because the devil means himself to pay then;  
But if they'll prove conclusions, bid them then,  
Tried on themselves and not on other men:  
Desire the Brokers that they would not yaune,  
After the forfeit of another's pawn,  
It is their right by law they'll say, 'tis true,  
And so's their soul, perhaps, another's due;  
But sting them if their conscience quite be fled,  
Then shall they pay what they have forfeited:  
Entreat the Tailor next, if that he can,  
To leave his theft and prove an honest man;  
If that he think the matter be too hard,  
Knock him about the noddle with his yard,  
If he be rich and take the same in snuff,  
Tell him his substance is but stolen stuff  
And that the jay would hardly brook the weather,  
If every Bird should take away her feather.  
So having whipped him, let the Priest go shrieve him,  
And if he have authority forgive him:  
Go warn the Crafts man that he do not lurk  
All day at alehouse, and neglect his work,  
And then survey the ware of every trade,  
For much, I tell thee, is deceitful made,  
Which if thou find I charge thee do not friend it,  
But call him knave, and bid him go and mend it,  
Oh see if thou the Marchant-man canst find,  
For he'll be gone at turning of the wind,  
Bid him keep touch, or tell his worship how  
His heart will tremble when the Seas are tough,  
Desire him to, if he do travail thither,  
Where Conscience is, that he would bring some hither,  
Here's little; some will have it; if none will,  
He shall gain by it though he keep it still;  
If he bring none, 'twere Charity, I think,  
To pray some storm might make his vessel sink;  
Look in their ships, for I have known deceit  
Hath been in both the Owner and the freight,  
Yea note them well, & thou shalt find their books  
Are gins for woodcocks made like tenterhooks:  
Well they are rich, the Merchant wealth obtains  
And cares not how, so he increase his gains;  
Yet lest his wealth may hap to make him proud,  
satire I pray thee, tell him this aloud  
To make him smart, that whilst he like a mome,  
Plays fast abroad, his wife places lose at home;  
Nor shall his ill-got mass of wealth hold out  
But he or his become a bankrupt:  
Now to thy rest, 'tis night; but here approaches  
A troop with torches hurried in their Coaches,  
Stay and behold, what are they? I can tell,  
Some bound for Shoreditch, or for Clarken-well:  
Oh these are they which think that Fornication,  
Is but a youthful sportful recreation:  
These to hold out the game, maintain the back  
With marrow pies, potato-rootes and sack:  
And when that Nature hath consumed her part,  
Can hold out a Luxurious course by art:  
Go stop the horses quickly lest thou miss  
And tell the Coachman's wanton carriage this,  
They of their guide must be advised well,  
For they are running down the hill to hell.  
Their Venery will soon consume their stocks,  
And bring them to repentance with a pox.  
So other crimes committed without light,  
Let such reveal as see like Owls by night:  
For many men a secret fault can find,  
But in apparent rougeries are blind  
Or else they will not see; but thou wertst best  
Leave whipping and betake thee to thy rest;  
If in an Inn it be, before thou sup,  
Will that the Tapster call his master up  
And bid him kindly, since he gives thee lodging,  
To use plain dealing and detest all dodging.  
Dissembling's nought, hard rekoning they are wors●  
Light gains (they say) will make a heavy purse.  
And let them not (this fault is very rife)  
Make any guest familiar with his wife.  
For many men (they wear but what they should)  
Do make their wives more wanton than they would.  
Thereby they gain, their Inns are well frequented  
But such ill courses are too late repent;  
So school him well and do thy whip refrain,  
And send him to his other guests again.  
Then thou shalt see the nimble Tapster fly,  
Still yalling, here, anon sir, by and by,  
So diligent, till thou thyself acquaint  
With his ●ly tricks thou'lt ●'take him for a Saint.  
But I suppose that they have ta'en an oath,  
Never too ●●ll a pot but half with froth;  
And there's an old shift if they leave it not,  
There must be something added to the shot.  
But wilt thou swagger with him for it? no,  
But take him as he is and let him go,  
Now for most ostler's if thou hap to try them.  
Knaves thou mayst say they are and not bely them,  
For they deceive the poor dumb traveling beast,  
And for the same deserved a jerk at least;  
Yet do thou spare them, for there is no doubt,  
Some guest will find a time to pay the lout.  
Well, having rested and discharged thine host,  
I'll send thee down, into the country, Post;  
For I have business, no man would believe,  
With whom d'ye think? e'en with the under-shreeve  
Tell him thou heardst (and that's a fault indeed)  
That in some causes he is double-feed.  
And that moreover he deserves a Portion,  
With those that are indicted for extortion.  
Yea and for other things as well as that,  
Tell him the country terms him he knows what▪  
A● which if he make light as if he care not,  
Whip him in conscience sound for't, and spare not  
Now for our Knights; their much formality,  
Hath made them leave their hospitality,  
Yet, le●t they should be angry say no more,  
This age hath made a number of them poor;  
And that some toe (or else they are belied)  
Have beggared their posterity with pride,  
And since thou art so near them do not cease  
Until thou see our justices of peace,  
There try if thou canst get but so much favour,  
To bind the Country to the good behaviour,  
And tell them how thou hast informed been,  
That they have granted Warrants upon spleen;  
Are partial, and have overswayed by might  
The poor man's cause that's innocent and right:  
If this thou find be true, thou hast permission;  
To lash, or put them out of the Commission;  
The Constable if he were bid, I wiss,  
Be good in's office, 'twere not much amiss:  
For he, they say, a many means may have,  
If so he be disposed to play the knave;  
See how he deals and makes thy message known,  
For he hath stocks and whipping-posts of's own:  
There are Churchwardens to, I shame to see  
How they run into wilful perjury,  
Partly in favour and in part for fear,  
They wink't at much disorder in a year;  
But if thou hap to take them in the lurch,  
jerk them as evil members of the Church;  
If they reply, offenders are so friended  
Though they present, 'tis little thing amended,  
Yet tell them 'tis their duty to discharge,  
Their consciences in every thing at large;  
Which if they do, ill doers shall be shamed  
Or the corrupted Visitors be blamed  
And prithee tell the B. Chancellor,  
That thou art sent to be his counsellor:  
And will him if he mean not to be stripped,  
And like a school boy once again be whipped,  
His worship would not so bad minded be,  
To pervert judgement for a scurvy fee.  
Then next go tell the reverent good masters,  
Thou and the Clergy needs must fall at wasters:  
Faith thou shalt find their Doctorships perhaps,  
Disputing of their surplices and caps,  
About the holy Cross, and Gown, a Hood,  
Or some such matters for the Churches good,  
But tell them there are other things to do,  
A great deal fitter to be looked into.  
And if they please to go their Visitation,  
There's weightier matters look for reformation,  
Yea say there's many an infirmity,  
Which they both may and aught to remedy.  
But touch them with remembrance of their place,  
And they perhaps will alter then the case,  
Then bid those Dunces in our Colleges,  
That they provide them good Apologies:  
For 'tis reported lately they have borh,  
Betook themselves to Venery and sloth,  
And seek not learning only as they should,  
But are back friends to many a man that would  
'Twere fit they made a public recantation,  
And were well whipped before a Congregation.  
Sole aving them their wits for to refine,  
Thou shalt be bold to look on the Divine;  
They say, he's grown more careful of his stock,  
His profits and his tithes then of his flock:  
Now if thou find report hath not belied him,  
With a respect unto his Calling chide him,  
I had almost forgot our civil Doctors;  
I pray thee warn them and their lazy Proctors,  
They would not use to make so many pauses,  
Before they do determine poor men's causes,  
And let them not suppose their fees are small,  
Since they at last will get the Devil and all,  
There be Court Barons many in the way,  
Thus mayst thou to the Guardians of them say,  
Their policy in raising fines and rents,  
Hath put poor men beside their Tenements:  
And tell them, let them answer if they can,  
Their false Court-roles hath undone many a man;  
Say thou hast seen what to their place belonged  
And know'st, ofttimes both Lord & tenants wronged  
Yet spare thy whip; for why? the people's curse,  
Already hath prepared them a worse,  
So when that thou hast punished vices slaves,  
And roundly Jerked the Country petty-knaves,  
Then march we to the Camp to bloody Nero  
And tell the ruftling shuffling Cavalero;  
He whose hard-heart can brook to rob or spill,  
His friend or foe, to ruin, wound or kill,  
Tell him, I say, there is a misery  
Must follow to revenge his cruelty;  
And see that thou the Ruffaines courage quail,  
Or lash him till the stock and whipcord fail;  
Walk but the round, and thou mayst hap to catch,  
The careless soldiers sleeping in their watch,  
Or in a march perhaps they'll go astray,  
But if thou see them in their best array,  
And without leave and warrant roaming out,  
To fetch some desperate booty there about,  
Remember them; and for their stout bravadoes,  
Let them be well preferred with bastinadoes,  
Then bid the Captains in their Garrisons,  
Not lay to pawn their rich Caparisons,  
Nor come upon the score till they are forced,  
To be disarmed for payment, or unhorsed,  
Nor keep the soldiers hire, lest they be fain,  
To make an insurrection or complain,  
For that indeed proves oftentimes the cause,  
They do so much transgress the Martial laws;  
Yea tell him 'tis a scandal to be drunk  
And drown their valour, or maintain a Punk;  
Then if he mend not for to blot his fame,  
In steed of honour whip him for't with shame,  
Than lastly there are self-conceited wits,  
Whose stomachs nought but their own humour fits,  
Detractors, Critics; who e'en at the best,  
Do bite with envy or else snarl at least,  
And in thy progress if discerned thou be,  
'Tis out of question they will snap at thee,  
To spite them then the way's not to out-brawle them,  
But say thou carest not, & that lash will gall them:  
Now satire leave me to myself alone,  
Thou hast thy message and thou mayst be gone,  
Whip any that shall offer to withstand thee,  
In executing that which I command thee;  
And yet so, ho, ho, ho, come back again,  
Be sure that thou do understand me plain:  
First note; I from my Scourge do here except,  
The Guard by whom the kingdoms peace is kept  
The virtuous Peers: Alas! I nothing grudge them,  
And on my blessiing see thou do not touch them:  
And if in all our offices there's any;  
That is an honest man amongst so many;  
Him did I ever mean that thou shouldst spare,  
Because I know that such a one is rare;  
Physic and Law I honour both (God bless it)  
With every virtuous man that doth profess it,  
I do not aim at such as they, nor when  
I flout our Gallants, mean I Gentlemen,  
Such worthy Britons as maintained be,  
According to their fashion and degree:  
No, those I love; and what can I less do,  
Since I of them am well-beloved to;  
To blame all Merchants never was my will,  
Nor do I think all Tradesman's work is ill;  
My meaning must not so be understood,  
For the last shoes I had were very good;  
Yea and so far am I from such a thought,  
Thou shouldst against the virtuous do aught,  
That if thou but an honest Tapster see,  
Tell him I wish we might acquainted be;  
And I'll that Ostler love which in amends,  
Will use my horse well, that we may be friends;  
And to be brief good satire understand  
That thou mayst not mistake what I command:  
'Tis not my meaning neither do I like,  
That thou at this time shouldst in special strike,  
Because my hatred might appear as then,  
Not to the vice, but rather to the men;  
Which is not so, for though some malice me  
with every one am I in charity;  
And if that thou do ever come to sight,  
And bring thy yet concealed charge to light▪  
I wish it might be took as 'twas intended:  
And then no virtuous man will be offended:  
But if that any man do think amiss,  
Upon my life that party guilty is;  
And therefore lash him, so get thee out of door  
Come what come will, I'll call thee back no more:  
So, now he's gone the way that I direct him,  
I wonder how the world will now respect him,  
If that she marvel why he was not bolder,  
Perhaps he may be when that he is older;  
He hath too smooth a chin, a look too mild,  
A token that he is not wholly wild;  
But may I reach the years of other men,  
If that this loose world be not mended then,  
I'll send a satire rougher than a Bear  
That shall not chide and whip, but scartch & tear.  
And so I'll teach him he shall be too strong,  
For all your Paris-garden dogs to wrong.  
This satire hath a scourge, (but it wants weight,  
Your Spanish whips were worse in eighty-eight,)  
That shall not only make them howl for pain,  
But touse them, till they hold their peace again:  
Now if the world, frown upon me for't,  
Shall I be sorry? No, 'twil mend my sport;  
But what if I myself should hap to stray,  
Out of my bounds into my Satyr's way?  
Why then; and that's as much as I need do,  
I give him leave to come and lash me toe.  
So now my Muse a resting time requires,  
For she's or ' wearied and her Spirit tires.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
FINIS.   

Certain Epigrams to the Kings most excellent Majesty, the Queen, the Prince, the Princess, and other Noble and Honourable Personages, and friends to whom the Author gave any of his books.  

To the King's Majesty.  
EPIGRAM. 1.  
Lo here ●read Sou'raign and great Britain's King  
First to thy view I have presumed to bring,  
These my Essays; On which but ge●ly look,  
I do not make thee Patron of m● book:  
For 'tis not sit ●ur Faiths-Desender (still)  
Take the protection of each trifling quill;  
No; yet because thy wisdom able is,  
Of all things to make use; I g●ue thee this:  
The Picture of a Beast in human shape,  
'Tis neither Monkey, nor Baboon, nor Ape,  
Though near Conditioned; I have not sought it brought it  
In Africa Deserts; neither have I  
Out of Ignota terra: those wild lands,  
Beyond the farthest Magalanick strands  
Yield not the like; the Fiend lives in this Ill  
And I mu●'d that you spied not all this while  
That Manlike Monster. But (alas) I saw,  
The look of Majesty kept him in awe;  
He will not, for he dares not before thee  
Show what (indeed) he uses for to be;  
But in thy presence he is meek, demure,  
Devout, chaste, honest, innocent, and pure:  
Seeming an Angel, free from thought of ill,  
And therefore thou must needs so think him stil.  
But for because thy Sovereign place denies,  
The sight of what is viewed by meaner eyes:  
This I have brought thee, with much care and pain,  
'Twas like to have been forced back again:  
So loath the world was, that thou shouldst view,  
The Portraiture that I have drawn so true;  
Yea yet, (I fear) she finds herself so galled,  
That some will study how to have't recalled;  
But 'tis too late; for now my Muse doth trust,  
When thou hast seen't thou wilt approve what's just.  
And if I may but once perceive, or hear,  
That this sounds pleasing in thy kingly ear,  
I'll make my Muse for to describe him fuller,  
And paint him forth in a more lively colour:  
Yea I will to the world's great shame unfold,  
That which is known, but never yet was told;  
Mean while great King a happy Monarch reign,  
In spite of Rome, the Devil, Hell, and Spain.   

Another to his Majesty.  
EPIGR. 2.  
AS he that feeds on no worse meat than Quails,  
And with choice dainties pleaseth Appetite:  
Will never have great list to gnaw his nails,  
Or in a course thin diet take delight,  
So thou great King that still dost overlook,  
The learned works, that are most deep, most rare▪  
Canst not perhaps these my rude Satyrs brook:  
Thou dost not for such sharp fanged Critics care:  
Oh do not yet thyself so much estrange,  
From wont courtesy to others shown,  
A Country dish doth often serve for change,  
And something here is worthy to be known.  
Sharp sauce gives sweetest meat a better taste;  
And though that this to many bitter be,  
Thou no such sickness in thy stomach haste,  
And therefore 'twill be pleasing unto thee:  
What though I neither flatter, fawn, nor sooth,  
My honest plainness shall more truly praise thee,  
Then those that in Court language filled smooth,  
Strive unbelieving Trophies for to raise thee,  
My loyal heart cannot so well impart,  
The love it bears your Majesty as other●s:  
The want of Time, Encouragement and Art,  
My purpose in the Embryo still smothers.  
Obscurity, Grosse-Fates, and want of Means,  
Would have made Rome's great Maro harshly sing▪  
But if once Caesar to his music leans,  
His tunes through all the world will sweetly ring▪  
And why are English wits so perfect grown?  
But for because thy kingly hand peruses,  
Their well tuned Poems; and hath bounty shown,  
Yea it is thou givest light unto their Muses.  
Oh! had I such a Star for Pole to mine,  
I'd reach a strain should ravish all the Nine.   

To the Queen's Majesty  
EPIGR. 3.  
DAughter, Wife, Sister, ' Mother to ' In Posse. a King▪  
And Empress of the North, every your Name;  
Yet do you chastity and wisdom bring,  
Bounty, and courtesy to make up true fame.  
Which ●ince (fair Queen) my Muse hath understood,  
She's bold into your presence to intrude,  
Assured, honest meanings that are good,  
Shall find acceptance there, though they seem rud●,  
Look and behold the Vanities of men,  
Their Misery, their Weakness, and their Pride,  
Deign to survey this book (I say) and then,  
When you have each particular espied:  
Think with yourself, how highly blest you be,  
For to enjoy a Prince that both knows how,  
To keep himself, from such fell Passion free,  
And make so many mad-wild creatures bow,  
Indeed here's Vices tablet plainly made,  
Not veiled over, or obscurely drawn;  
'tis in a colour which shall never fade,  
That men may blush, on such a hag to fawn▪  
But if your Grace will favour what I sing,  
Though Virtue be in durance I'll erpreeve her  
That now despised Nymph to honour bring,  
Set all her hidden beauties forth; and give her  
So sweet a look, and such a deft attire,  
Men shall grow lovesick and burn with desire.   

To CHARLES' Prince of Wales.  
EPIG. 4.  
SEE here fair Offspring of the royal Stem,  
What all the world almost is subject to;  
Behold it so, thou truly mayst contemn,  
And from thy heart abhor what others do,  
Now is the fit and only time to season,  
That young, rare-understanding breast of thine  
With sacred precepts, good advise, and reason;  
But there's no doubt thou wilt to good incline,  
Inheritance, great Prince, will make it thine:  
And were Man's nature, yet more prone to fall,  
So to be borne, and so taught, helps all.   

To the Princess.  
EPIG. 5.  
SWeet Princess; though my Muse sings not the glories,  
Of fair adventurous Knights or Ladies loves:  
Though here be no Encomiastic stor●es,  
That tender hearts, or gentle Spirits moves,  
Yet in an honest homely Rustic strain,  
She shows the Creature (such may you near know)  
Forgive her though she be severe, or plain,  
Truth that may warrant it commanded so.  
Yea view it over with belief; but than,  
I am afraid you will abhor a man.  
And yet you need not; All deserve not blame,  
For that great Prince that woos for to be yours  
If that his worth but equalize his fame,  
Is free from any Sat●r here of ours.  
Nay they shall praise him; for though they have whips  
To make the wicked their offences rue,  
And dare to scourge the greatest when he trips,  
Virtue shall still be certain of her due.  
But for your sake; (if that you entertain him,)  
Oh would he were (a man) as I could feign him  
Yet sweet Elizabeth: that happy Name,  
If we lost nothing else by losing thee;  
So dear to Eng●and is, we are to blame  
If without tears and sighs we parted be;  
But if thou must make blest another Clime;  
Remember Our; and for that; though I use,  
A crabbed subject and a Churlish Rhyme,  
Deign but to be the Mistress of my Muse;  
And I'll change Themes, and in a lofty style,  
Keep thee alive for ever, in this I'll.   

To the Lords of his majesties most honourable Privy Counsel.  
EPIGR. 6.  
MOst Honoured Lords; I here present this book,  
To your grave censures, not to show my Art:  
Near did you on so rude a matter look,  
Yet 'tis the token of an honest heart,  
I did it not to please, nor flatter any,  
Nor have I made it for the thirst of gain:  
For I am sure it will not humour many,  
And I expect much hatred for my pain.  
Here something you may see that now requires,  
Your care and providence to have't amended:  
That's the main point to which my Muse aspires,  
And whereto I have all my labour tended:  
It may be there be some out of their hate,  
Will misinterpret what is plainly meant;  
Or tax me as too saucy with the State,  
In hope to make me for the Truth be ●hent,  
Yet know Great Lords, I do acknowledge here,  
It is your wisdoms that next God maintains,  
This kingdoms good; And from my heart I beare●  
A reverent respect unto your pains.  
I do not, as such fain would have it seem,  
Presume to teach your wisdoms what is best,  
I do not my own knowledge so esteem,  
Vile self conceit I from my heart detest.  
But for because I know the percing'st eye,  
Can never into all abuses see;  
And since the greatest in Authority,  
May not behold sometime so much as we:  
What therefore I have thought to be amiss  
And worth amending I have told it here:  
I know your Honours will be pleased in this,  
Though some (it may be) cannot rage forbear.  
But if there's any take this writing badly,  
Had it told all, it would have vexed him madly.   

To Henry Earl of Southampton.  
EPIGR. 7  
Southampton; since thy Province brought me forth●  
And on those pleasant mountains I yet keep  
●ought to be no stranger to thy worth,  
Nor let thy Virtues in oblivion sleep.  
Nor will I; if my fortunes give me time:  
Mean while read this, and see what others be;  
●f thou canst like't, and will but grace my R●me,  
●wil so blaze thy Hampshire springs and thee,  
Thy Arle, Test, Stowre, and Auon shall share Fame,  
Either with Humber, Severne, Trent or Thame.   

To William Earl of Pembroke.  
EPIG. 8.  
THou whom respect of kin makes not unjust,  
True Noble Spirit free from hate or guile;  
●hou whom thy Prince hath for thy care and trust,  
●●ac't for to keep the entrance of this I'll,  
●e here th' abuses of these wicked Times,  
●haue exposed them open to thy view:  
●hy judgement is not blinded with like crimes,  
〈◊〉 therefore mayst perceive that all is true.  
●Take't, though I seem a stranger, yet I know thee;  
●nd for thy virtues Pembroke, this I owe thee.   

To the Lord Lisle, Lord Chamberlain to the Queen.  
EPIGRAM. 9  
BEing a Sidney and so near allied,  
To him whose matchless rare immortal pen  
Procured of Fame to have him deified,  
And live for ever in the hearts of men:  
The love my soul hath ever borne that name,  
Would certainly persuade me for your sake;  
In honest service to adventure blame,  
Or any open dangers undertake,  
Yet shall not that your titles, nor your place,  
Your honours, nor your might, nor all you have,  
Cause me to flatter for reward or grace▪  
Fortune shall never make my mind a slave,  
But seeing that your Virtue shines apparent,  
And honourable acts do speak your praise:  
Since Good Report hath given forth her warrant,  
Which none so much as by himself gaine-saies,  
That (and nought else but that) compels my Muse,  
To sing your worth and to present her Own,  
If this imperfect issue you'll peruse,  
I'll make her in a better forne be known,  
And teach her, that is now so rude and plain,  
To soar a pitch above the common strain,   

To the Lady Mary Wroth.  
EPIGR. 10.  
Madam, to call you best, or the most fair,  
The Vertu'st and the wisest in our days:  
Is now not commendations worth a hair,  
For that's become to be each huswives' praise.  
There's no degree, below Superlative,  
Will serve some soothing Epigrammatists:  
The Worst they praise, exceeds Comparative,  
And Best can get no more out of their fists.  
But, Arts sweet Lover; (unto whom! know,  
There is no happy Muse this day remains;  
That doth not for your Worth and bounty owe,  
Even himself, his best and sweetest strains.)  
Vouchsafe, to let this book your favour find,  
And as I hear have Man's abuses shown,  
I'll with like just, and uncorrupted mind,  
So make your true unfeigned Virtues known,  
While others false praise, shall in one's mouth be,  
All shall commend you, in the highest degree.   

To Sir Thomas Ridgeway, Knight Baronet, Treasurer of Ireland.  
EPIGR. 11.  
SIR, you first graced and gratified my Muse,  
Which near durst try till than what she could do  
That which I did unto myself was news,  
A matter I was little used unto:  
Had you those first endeavours not approved,  
I should for ever more have silence kept;  
But now your good encouragement hath moved  
And roused my Spirits, that before time slept;  
For which I vowed a gift that should be better:  
Accept this for't, and i'll be still your debtor.  
Here you shall see the Images of men,  
More savage than the wildest Irish kern:  
Abuses whipped and stripped, and whipped again,  
I know your judgement can the Truth discern,  
Now so you will think well of this my Rhyme,  
I've such a mind yet to Saint Patrick's Isle,  
That if my Fate and Fortunes give me time,  
I hope for to revisit you a while,  
And make those sparks of honour to flame high  
That raked up in oblivions cinders lie.   

To his Father.  
EPIGR. 12.  
OThers may glory that their Father's hands  
Have scraped together mighty sums of gold  
Boast in the circuit of new purchased lands,  
Or herds of cattle more than can be told.  
God give them joy; their wealth I'll near envy,  
For you have gotten me a greater store,  
And though I have not their prosperity,  
In my conceit I am not half so poor.  
You learned me with a little to content me,  
show'd how to bridle passion in some measure;  
And through your means I have a Talon lent me,  
Which I more value than all Indies treasure;  
For when the almost boundless patrimonies,  
Are wasted; those by which our great ones trust  
To be eternised: when their Ceremonies  
Shall be forgotten, and their tombs be dust;  
Then to the glory of your future line,  
Your own and my friends sacred memory,  
This little, poor, despised, wealth of mine,  
Shall raise a Trophy of eternity,  
Which fretting envy, nor consuming time,  
Shall ere abolish or one whit offend:  
A topless Statue that to stars shall climb,  
Far greater than your Art shall comprehend:  
But I must needs confess 'tis true, I yet  
Reap little profit in the eyes of men:  
My Talent yields small outward benefit,  
Yet I'll not leave it for the world again,  
Though't bring no gain that you by artful sleight  
Can measure out the earth in part or whole;  
Sound out the Centre's depth, and take the height,  
Either of th' artic, or Antarctic pole:  
Yet 'tis your pleasure, it contentment brings,  
And so my Muse is my content and joy,  
I would not miss her to be ranked with Kings,  
How ever some account it is a toy,  
But having then (and by your means) obtained▪  
So rich a patrimony for my share:  
For which with links of love I'm ever chained,  
What duties fitting for such bounties are?  
Moreover Nature brought me in your debt,  
And still I owe you for your cares and fears:  
Your pains and charges I do not forget  
Beside the interest of many years:  
What way is there to make requital for it?  
Much I shall leave unpaid do what I can:  
Should I be then unthankful? I abhor it,  
The Will may serve when Power wants in man:  
This book I give you then, here you shall find  
Somewhat to countervail your former cost;  
It is a little Index of my mind;  
Time spent in reading it, will not be lost▪  
Accept it and when I have to my might,  
Paid all I can to you; if powers divine  
Shall so much in my happiness delight,  
To make you Grandsire to a son of mine:  
Look what remains and may by right be due▪  
I'll pay it him as 'twas received from you.  
Your loving Son. George Wither.   

To his mother.  
EPIG. 13.  
Ungrateful is the child that can forget,  
The Mothers many pains, her cares, her fears,  
And therefore though I cannot pay the debt,  
Due for the smallest drop of your kind tears;  
This Book I for acknowledgement do give you,  
Wherein you may perceive my heart▪ my mind;  
Let never false report of me more grieve you,  
And you shall sure no just occasion find,  
Love made you apt to fear those slanders true,  
Which in my absence were but lately sown:  
It was a motherly distrust in you,  
But those that raised them are false villains known  
For though I must confess I am indeed,  
The vilest to myself that lives this time,  
Yet to the world ward I've ta'en such heed,  
There's none can spot me with a heinous crime.  
This I am forced to speak, you best know why,  
Wherer's that man living that dare say I lie.   

To his dear friend Master Thomas Cranly.  
EPIGR. 14.  
BRother, for so I call thee, not because  
Thou wert my Fathers, or my Mother's son,  
Nor consanguinity, nor wedlock laws,  
Could such a kindred twixt us have begun,  
We are not of one blood, nor yet name neither,  
Nor sworn in brotherhood with ale house quarts  
We never were so much as drunk together,  
'twas no such slight acquaintance joined our hearts  
But a long knowledge with much trial did it  
(Which for to choose a friend are good directions,)  
And though we loved both well at first, both hid it,  
Till 'twas discovered by a like affections.  
Since which, thou hast o'ergone me far in showing  
The Office of a friend; do't still and spare not,  
Lo here's a Memorandum for what's owing;  
But know for all thy kind respect I care not,  
Unless thou'lt show how I may service do thee,  
Then I will swear I am beholding to thee.  
Thine G. W.   

To his loving friend, and Cousen-German, M. WILLIAM WITHER.  
EPIGR. 15.  
IF that the Standards of the house bewray,  
What Fortunes to the owners may betide:  
Or if their Destinies, as some men say,  
Be in the names of any signified;  
'tis so in thine for that fair antic shield,  
Borne by thy Predecessors long ago,  
Depainted with a clear pure Arg●nt field,  
The innocency of thy line did show.  
Three sable Crescents with a Cheveron gul'de  
Tells that black fates obscured our houses light;  
Because the Planet that our fortunes ruled,  
Lost her own lustre and was darkened quite:  
And as indeed our adversaries say;  
The very name of Whither shows decay.  
But yet despair not, keep thy white unstained,  
And then it skills not what thy Crescents be  
What though the Moon be now increased, now waned  
Learn thence to know thy life's inconstancy,  
Be careful as thou hitherto hast been,  
To shun th' abuses Man is taxed for here,  
And then thy soul, that's now eclipsed with sin,  
When Moon and Sun are darkened shall look clear  
And what soer'e thy English name may threat,  
The ᵃ Harvests son the greeks entitle thee,  
Ere thou shalt want, thy ᵃ H●re will bring thee meat,  
And, to kill care, herself thy makesport be,  
Yea yet (though Envies mists do make them dull)  
I hope to see the waned Orbs at full.  
For the better understanding of this Epigram, note that his Arms are in a field argent a Chevron, Gules betwixt three crescents sable, his name according to the greeks is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and his Crest is a Hare with thre● wheat ears in her mouth.   

To his Schoolmaster, Master john Greaves.  
EPIGR. 16.  
I Fever I do wish I may be rich,  
(As oft perhaps such ilde breath I spend;)  
I do it not for any thing so much,  
As for to have wherewith to pay my friend.  
For trust me, there is nothing grieves me more  
Than this; that I should still much kindness take,  
And have a Fortune (to my mind) so poor,  
That (though I would) amends I cannot make:  
Yet for to be as thankful as I may,  
Snce my estate no better means affords,  
What I in deed receive, I do repay  
In willingness, in thanks and gentle words.  
Then though your love doth well deserve to have  
Better requitals than are in my power;  
Knowing you'll nothing ultra posse crave,  
Here I have brought you some Essays of our:  
You may think much, perhaps, since there's so many  
Learned Graduates that have your pupils been;  
I who am none, and more unfit than any,  
Should first presume in public to be seen:  
But you do know those horses in the team,  
That with their work are ablest to go through,  
Seldom so forward as blind Bayard seem,  
(Or give so many twitches to the plough)  
And so though they may better; their intent  
Is not, perhaps, for to be fools is print.   

To the captious Reader.  
WHat thou mayst say or think, it is no mat  
But if thou busily imagine here,  
Since most of these are mighty, that I flatter;  
Know, sacred justice is to me so dear,  
Did not their Virtues in my thoughts thus ra●●ther  
To get an Empire by them I'd not praise the●●   
FINIS.