A satire: DEDICATED TO HIS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. BY GEORGE WITHER, Gentleman.  Rebus in adversis Crescit. 
LONDON: Printed for GEORGE NORTON, and are to be sold at the sign of the red-Bull, near Temple-bar. 1614   

THE satire TO THE MERE COURTIERS.  
SIrs, I do know your minds, you look for fees,  
For more respect than needs, for caps and knees:  
But be content, I have not for you now,  
Nor will I have at all to do with you.  
For though I seem oppressed, and you suppos●  
I must be fain to crouch to virtues foes;  
Yet know, your favours I do now slight more  
In this distress●, then ere I did befor●.  
Here to my Liege a message I must tell,  
If you will let me pass, yo● shall do well;  
If you de●i● admittance, why then know,  
I mean to have it where you will or no.  
Your formal wisdoms which hath never been  
In aught yet (save in venting fashions) seen,  
And deems that man wa● borne to no intent  
But to be trained in Apish complement,  
Doth now (perhaps) suppose me undiscreet,  
And such unused messages unmeet.  
But what of that? Shall I go suit my matter  
Unto your wits, that have but wit to flatter?  
Shall I, of your opinions so much prize  
To lose my will, to have you think me wise,  
Who never yet to any liking had,  
Unless he were a Knave, a Fool, or mad?  
You muhrooms know, so much I weigh your powers  
I neither value you, nor what is yours.  
Nay, though my crosses had me quite outworn,  
Spirit enough I'd find your spite to scorn:  
Of which resolved, to further my adventure,  
Unto my KING, without your leaves I enter.   

TO THE HONEST COURTIERS.  
But You, whose only worth doth colour give  
To them, that they do worthy seem to live,  
Kind Gentlemen; your aid I crave, to bring  
A satire to the presence of his King:  
A show of rudeness doth my forehead Arm,  
Yet you may trust me, I will do no harm:  
He that hath sent me, is a subject true,  
And one whose love (I know) is much to you:  
But now he lies bound to a narrow scope,  
Almost beyond the Cape of all good hope,  
Long hath he sought to free himself, but fails:  
And therefore seeing nothing else prevails,  
Me, to acquaint my Sovereign, here he sends,  
As one despairing of all other friends.  
I do presume that you will favour show me,  
Now that a Messenger from him you know me:  
For many thousands that his face near knew  
Blame his Accusers, and his Fortune rue:  
And by the help which your good word may d●●.  
He hopes for pity from his Sovereign to.  
Then in his presence with your favours grace me,  
And there's no Vice so great, shall dare outface me.   

TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY.  
A Satire.  
Quid tu, sipe●eo?  
WHat once the POET said, I may avow,  
'tis a hard thing not to write satires now,  
Since what we speak, abuse reigns so in all,  
Spite of our hearts will be Satirical.  
Let it not therefore now be deemed strange,  
My unsmoothed lines their rudeness do not change,  
Nor be distasteful to my gracious King,  
Though in the Cage, my old harsh notes I sing,  
And rudely make a Satire here unfold  
What others would in neater terms have told.  
And why? my friends and means in Court are scant,  
Knowledge of curious Phrase, and form, I want.  
I cannot bear't to run myself in debt,  
To hire the Groom, to bid the Page entreat  
Some favoured follower; to vouchsafe his word,  
To get me a cold comfort from his Lord:  
I cannot soothe, though it my life might save,  
Each favourite, nor crouch to every Knave:  
I cannot brook delays as some men do,  
With scoffs, and scorns, and take't in kindness to.  
For ere I'd bind myself for some slight grace  
To one that hath no more worth than his place;  
Orb● abase mean free myself from trouble,  
I rather would e●●ure my penance double:  
'Cause to be forced to what my mind disdains  
Is worse to me then tortures, racks, and chains:  
And therefore unto thee I only fly,  
To whom there needs no mean but Honesty:  
To thee that lov'st not Parasite nor Minion  
Should e'er I speak, possess thee with opinion.  
To thee that dost what thou wilt undertake▪  
For love of justice, not the persons sake.  
To thee that kno'wst how vain all fair shows be,  
That flow not from the heart's sincerity.  
And canst▪ though shadowed in the simplest vail,  
Discern both Love and Truth, and where they fail:  
To thee do I appeal, in whom heaven knows,  
I next to God my confidence repose.  
For can it be, thy grace should ever shine,  
And not enlighten such a cause as mine?  
Can my hopes (fixed in thee great KING) be dead?  
Or thou those satires hate thy Forests bred?  
Where shall my second hopes he founded then,  
If ever I have heart to hope again?  
Can I suppose a favour may be got  
In any place when thy Co●rt yeel●● it not?  
Or that I may obtain it in the land,  
When I shall be denied it at thy hand?  
A●d if I might, should I so fond on't be,  
To take't of other● when I miss of thee?  
Or if I did, can I have comfort by it,  
When I shall t●inke my Soveraigue did deny it?  
No, were I sure, I to thy hate were borne,  
The love of half the world beside I'd scorn.  
But why should I thy favour here distrust,  
That have a cause so known, and known so just?  
Which not alone my inward comfort doubles,  
But all supposed me wronged that hear my troubles.  
Nay, though my fault were Real, I believe,  
Thou art so Royal that thou wouldst forgive.  
For well I know thy sacred majesty,  
Hath ever been admired for Clemency.  
And at thy gentleness the world hath wondered,  
For making Sunshine, where thou mightst have thundered.  
Yea, thou in mercy life to them didst give  
That could not be content to see thee live.  
And can I think that thou wilt make me, then,  
The most unhappy of all other men?  
Or le● thy loyal subject, against reason,  
Be punished more for Love, than some for Treason?  
No, thou didst never yet thy glory stain,  
With an injustice to the meanest Swain.  
'Tis not thy will I'm wronged, nor dost thou know  
If I have suffered injuries or no.  
For if I have not heard false Rumours fly,  
Th'a●t graced me with the style of Honesty.  
And if it were so (as the world thinks 'twas)  
I cannot see how it should come to pass  
That thou, from whose free tongue proceedeth nought  
Which is not correspondent with thy thought.  
Those thoughts to, being framed in Reason's mould,  
Should speak that once, which should not ever hold.  
But passing it as an uncertainty,  
I humbly beg thee, by that Majesty,  
Whose sacred Glory strikes a loving-feare  
Into the hearts of all, to whom 'tis dear:  
To deign me so much favour, without merit,  
As read this plaint, of a distempered spirit:  
And think, unless I saw some hideous storm  
Too great to be induced by such a worm,  
I had not thus presumed unto a King,  
W●th Aesop's Fly▪ to seek an Eagles wing.  
But know I'm he that entered once the list,  
'Gainst all the world to play the Satirist:  
'twas I, that made my measures rough, and rude,  
Dance armed with whips, amidst the multitude,  
And unappalled with my charmed Scrolls,  
Teaz'● angry Monsters in their lurking holes:  
I've played with Wasps, and Hornets without fears,  
Till they grew mad, and swarmed about my ears.  
I've done it, and me thinks 'tis such brave sport,  
I may be stung, but n●re be sorry for't.  
For all my grief is, that I was so sparing▪  
And had no more in't worth the name of daring.  
He that will tax these Times, must be more bitter,  
Tart lines of Vinegar, and Gall are fitter▪  
My fingers, and my spirits are benumbed,  
My Ink runs forth too smooth, 'tis too much gummed  
I'd have my Pen so paint it, where it traces,  
Each accent should draw blood into their faces.  
And make them, when their villainies ●re blazed.  
Shudder, and startle, as men half amazed,  
For fear my verse should make so loud a din,  
Heaven hearing, might rain vengeance on their sin.  
Oh no● for s●ch a straine● would Art could teach it,  
Though life my spirits I consumed to reach it.  
I'd learn my Muse so brave a course to fly,  
Men should admire the power of Poesy.  
And those that dared her greatness to resist,  
Quake, even at naming of a Satirist.  
But when hi● scourging numbers flowed with wonder,  
Should cry God bless us, as they did at thunder.  
Alas! my lines came from me too too dully,  
They did not fill a satires mouth up fully.  
Hot blood, and youth, enraged with passion's store,  
Taught me to reach a strain near touched before.  
But it was coldly done, I thoroughly chid not:  
And somewhat there is yet to do, I did not.  
More sound could my scourge have yerked many,  
Which I omit not, cause I feared any.  
For want of action, discontentment's rage,  
Base disrespect of Virtue (in this age)  
With other things, unto myself a wrong,  
Made me so fearless, in my careless long:  
That had not reason within compass won me,  
I had told Truth enough to have undone me:  
(Nay, have already, if that her Divine  
And unseen power, can do no more than mine.)  
For though foreseeing wariness was good,  
I framed my style, unto a milder mood,  
And clogging her thigh-towring wing● with mire,  
Made her half earth, that was before all fire.  
Then being (as you saw) disguised in show,  
Clad like a Satire, brought her forth to view:  
Hoping, (her outside being mis-esteemed)  
She might have passed, but for what she seemed:  
Yet some, whose Comments jump not with my mind  
In that low phrase, a higher reach woul● find.  
And out of their deep judgement seem to know,  
What 'tis uncertain if I meant or no:  
Aiming thereby, out of some private hate,  
To work my shame, or overthrow my state.  
For amongst many wrongs my foe doth do me,  
And divers imputations, laid unto me,  
Deceived in his aim, he doth misconster  
That which I have enstiled a Manlike Monster,  
To mean some private person in the state,  
Whose worth, I think to wrong out of my hate;  
Upbraiding me I from my word do start,  
Either for want of a good Ground, or Heart,  
Cause from his expectation I do vary  
In the denying of his Commentary,  
Whereas 'tis known I meant Abuse the while,  
Not thinking any one could be so vile,  
To merit all those Epithets of shame.  
How ever many do deserve much blame.  
But say I grant that I had an intent  
To have it so (as he interprets) meant,  
And let my gracious Liege, suppose there were  
One whom the State may have some cause to fear,  
Or think there were a man (and great in Court)  
That had more faults than I could well report,  
Suppose I knew him, and had gone about  
By some particular marks to paint him out,  
That he best knowing his own faults might see,  
He was the Man I would should noted be:  
Imagine now such doings in this Age,  
And that this man so pointed at should rage,  
Call me in question, and by his much threatening,  
By long imprisonment, and ill entreating,  
Urge a Confession: were't not a mad part  
For me to tell him what lay in my heart?  
Do not I know a great man's Power and Might,  
I● spite of Innocence, can smother Right.  
Colour his Villainies, to get esteem,  
And make the Honest man the Villain seem?  
And that the truth I told should in conclusion▪  
For want of Power, and Friends, be my confusion?  
I know it, and the world doth know 'tis true;  
Yet●I protest, if such a man I knew,  
That might my Country prejudice, or Thee,  
Were he the greatest, or the proudest Hoe  
That breathes this day: if so it might be found,  
That any good to either might redound,  
So far I'll be (though Fate against me run)  
From starting off, from that I have begun,  
I un-appalled dare in such a case  
Rip up his foulest Crimes before his face,  
Though for my Labour I were sure to drop  
Into the mouth of Ruin without hope.  
But such strange far-fetched meanings they have sought,  
As I was never privy to in thought:  
And that unto particulars would tie  
Which I intended universally.  
Whereat some, with displeasure over-gone,  
Those I scarce dreamed of, saw, or thought upon▪  
Maugre those caveats, on my satires brow,  
Their honest, and just passage disallow.  
And on their heads so many censures rake,  
That spite of me, themselves they'll guilty make.  
Nor is't enough to suage their discontent,  
To say I am (or to be) Innocent.  
For as, when once the Lion made decree▪  
No horned beast should nigh his presence be,  
That, on whose forehead only did appear,  
A bunch of flesh, or but some tuft of hair,  
Was even as far in danger as the rest,  
If he but said, it was a horned beast:  
So, there be now, who think in that their power,  
Is of much force, or greater far than our;  
It is enough to prove a guilt in me▪  
Because (mistaking) they so think't to be.  
Yet'tis my comfort, they are not so high▪  
But they must stoop to thee and equity.  
And this I know, though pricked, they storm again  
The world doth deem them ne'er the better men.  
To stir in filth, makes not the stench the less,  
Nor doth Truth fear the frown of Mightiness.  
Because those numbers she doth deign to grace,  
Men may suppress a while, but ne'er to deface.  
I wonder, and 'tis wondered at by many,  
My harmless lines should br●ed distaste in any:  
So much, that whereas most good men approve,  
My labour to be worthy thanks, and love;  
I as a ●illaine, and my Country's foe,  
Should be imprisoned, and so strictly to,  
That not alone my liberty is barred,  
But the resort of friends (which is more hard▪).  
And whilst each wanton, or loose Rhymers pen,  
With oily words, sleeks o'er the sins of men,  
V●iling his wits to every Puppets beck,  
Which e'er I'll do, I'll joy to break my neck.  
(I say) while such as they in every place  
Can find protection, patronage and grace;  
If any look on me, 'tis bu● askance,  
Or if I get a favour, 'tis by chance.  
I must protect myself: poor Truth and I,  
Can have scarce one speak for our Honesty.  
Then whereas they, can gold, and gifts attain,  
Malicious Hate, and Envy is my gain.  
And not alone have here my freedom lost,  
Whereby my best hope's likely to be crossed:  
But have been put to more charge in one day  
Then all my Patron's bounties yet will pay.  
What I have done was not for thirst of gain,  
Or out of hope preferments to attain.  
Since to contemn them, would more profit me,  
Then all the glories in the world that be:  
Yet they are helps to Virtue, used aright,  
And when they wanting be, she wants her might.  
For Eagles minds ne'er f●t a ravens feather,  
To dare, and to be able, suit together.  
But what is't I have done so worthy bla●e,  
That some so eagerly pursue my fame?  
Vouchsafe to view't with thine own eyes, and try  
(Save want of Art) what fault thou canst espy.  
I have not sought to scandalise the State,  
Nor sown sedition, nor made public bate.  
I have not aimed at any good man's fame,  
Nor taxed (directly) any one by name.  
I am not he that am grown discontent  
With the Religion, or the Government.  
I meant no Ceremonies to protect,  
Nor do● I favour any new-sprung sect;  
But to my satires gave this only warrant,  
To apprehend and punish Vice apparent.  
Who aiming in particular at none,  
In general upbraided every one:  
That each (unshamed of himself) might view  
That in himself, which no man dares to show.  
And hath this Age bred up neat Vice so tenderly  
She cannot brook it to be touched so slenderly?  
Will she not bide my gentle satires bites?  
harm take her then, what makes she in their sights?  
If with impatience she my Whipcord feel,  
How had she raged at my lash of Steel?  
But am I called in question for her c●use,  
Is't Vice that these afflictions on me draws?  
And need I now thus to Apologize▪  
Only because I scourged villainies?  
Must I be fain to give a reason why,  
And how I dare, allow of Honesty?  
Whilst that each fleering Parasite is bold  
Thy Royal brow undaunted to behold:  
And every Temporizer strike● a string,  
That's music for the hearing of a King.  
Shall not he reach out, to obtain as much,  
Who dares more for thee then a hundred such?  
Heaven grant her patience, my Muse takesed so badly,  
I fear sheel'● lose her wits, for she raves madly.  
Yet let not my dread Sovereign too much blame h●r  
Whose awful presence, now hath made her tam●r.  
For if there be no Fly but hath her spleen,  
Nor a poor Pismire, but will wreak her teen;  
How shall I then, that have both spleen, and gall,  
Being unjustly dealt with, bear with all?  
I yet with patience take what I have borne,  
And all the world's ensuing hate can scorn:  
But 'twere in me as much stupidity,  
Not to have feeling of an injury,  
As it were weakness not to brook it well.  
What others therefore think I cannot tell;  
But he that's less than mad, is more than Man,  
Who sees when he hath done the best he can  
To keep within the bounds of Innocence:  
Sought to discharge his due to God and Prince:  
That he, whilst villainies unreproved go,  
Scoffing, to see him overtaken so,  
Should have his good intendments misconce●●'d,  
Be of his dearest liberty bereaved;  
And which is worse; without reason why,  
Be frowned on by Authorities grim eye.  
By that great power my soul so much doth fear,  
She scorns the stearn'st frowns of a mortal Peer.  
But that I Virtue love, for her own sake,  
It were enough to make me undertake  
To speak as much in praise of Vice again,  
And practise some to plague these shames of me●,  
I mean those my Accusers, who mistaking  
My true conceit●, frame some of their own making▪  
But if I list, I need not buy so dee●e,  
The just revenge I could bring on them here.  
I could frame measures in this my just fury,  
Should sooner find them guilty than a jury:  
Whose ●ords, like swords (tempered with Art) should pierce  
And hang, and draw, & quarter them in verse.  
Or I could rack them on the wings of Fame,  
(And he's half hanged (they say) hath an ill name,)  
Yea I'd go near to make these spiteful Elves,  
Lyca●bes-like, be glad to hang themselves.  
And though this Age will not abide to hear  
Those faults reproved, whom custom hath made dear.  
Y●t if I pleased, I could write their crimes,  
And stone them up in walls for aftertimes:  
For they'll be glad (perhaps) that shall ensue,  
To see some story of their Father's true.  
Or should I smothered be in darkness still,  
I might not use the freedom of a quill:  
'T would raise up braver spirits than my own,  
To make my cause, and this their guilt more known.  
Who by that subject should get Love, and Fame,  
Unto my foe's disgrace, and endless shame:  
Those I do mean, whose Comments have misused me,  
And to those Peers I honour, have accused me:  
Making against my Innocence their batteries,  
And wronging them by their base flatteries:  
But of revenge I am not yet so fain,  
To put myself unto that needless pain:  
Because I know a greater power there is,  
That noteth smaller injuries than this;  
And being still as just as it is strong,  
Apportions due revenge for every wrong.  
But why (say some) should his too saucy Rhymes,  
Thus tax the wise and great ones of our times?  
It sures not with his years to be so bold,  
Nor fits it us, by him to be controlled.  
I must confess ('●is very true indeed)  
Such should not of controlling stand in need▪  
But blame not me, I saw good Ver●ue poor,  
Desert, amongst the most, thrust out of door,  
Honesty hated, Courtesy banished,  
Rich men excessive, Poor men famished:  
Coldness in Zeal, in Laws much partiality;  
Friendship, but Complement, and vain Formality.  
Art I perceive contemned, while most advance  
(To Offices of worth) Rich Ignorance.  
And those that should our Lights and Teachers be,  
Live (if not worse) as wanton as we.  
Yea I saw Nature, from her course run back,  
Disorders grow, Good orders go to wrack.  
So to increase what all the rest began,  
I to this current of confu●io● ran.  
And seeing Age left off the place of guiding,  
Thus played the saucy wag, and fell to chiding.  
Wherein, how ever some (perhaps) may deem,  
I am not so much faulty as I seem:  
For when the Elders wronged susanna's honour,  
And none withstood the shame they laid upon her;  
A Child rose up to stand in her defence,  
And spite of wrong, confirmed her innocence:  
To show those must not, that good undertake,  
Strain curtsy, who shall do't, for manners sake.  
Nor do I know, whether to me God gave,  
A boldness more than many other have,  
That I might show the world what shameful blot  
Virtue by her lascivious Elders got.  
Nor is't a wonder, as some do suppose,  
My Youth so much corruption can disclose;  
Since every day the Sun doth light mine eyes,  
I have experience of new villainies:  
But it is rath●r to be wondered how,  
I either can, or dare, be honest now.  
And though again there be some others rage▪  
That I should dare (so much above mine age)  
Thus censure each degree, both young and old,  
I see not wherein I am overbold.  
For if I have been plain with Vice I care not,  
There'● nought that I know good, & can, & dare not▪  
Only this one thing doth my mind deter,  
Even a fear (through ignorance) to err.  
But oh knew I, what thou wouldst well approve,  
Or might the smallest respect within thee move;  
So in the sight of God it might be good,  
And with the quiet of my conscience stood,  
(As well I know thy true integrity,  
Would command nothing against Piety,)  
There's nought so dangerous, or full of fear,  
That for my Sovereign's sake I would not dare.  
Which good belief would it did not possess thee;  
Provided some just trial might rebless me:  
Yea, though a while I did endure the gall  
Of thy displeasure, in this loathsome thrall.  
For notwithstanding in this place I lie  
●y the command of that Authority,  
Of which I have so much respective care,  
That in my own (and just) defence I fear  
To use the free speech that I do intend,  
Lest Ignorance, or Rashness should offend.  
Yet is my meaning and my thought a●free,  
From wilful wronging of thy Laws or thee▪  
A● he to whom thy Place or Person's dearest,  
Or to himself that finds his conscience clearest.  
If there be wrong, 'tis not my making it,  
All the offence i● some's mistaking it.  
And is there any justice borne of late,  
Makes those faults mine, which others perpetrate?  
What man could ever any Age yet find  
That spent his Spirits in this thankless kind  
Showing his meaning, to such words could tie it▪  
That none should either wrong▪ or misapply it?  
Nay, your own Laws, which (as you do intend)  
In plain'st and most effectual words are penned,  
Cannot be framed so well to your intent,  
But some there be will err from what you meant.  
And yet (alas) must I be tied unto  
What never any man before could do?  
Must all I speak, or write, so well be done,  
That none may pick more meanings thence then one?  
Then all the world (I hope) will leave disunion.  
And every man become of one opinion.  
But if some may, what care so ere we tak●  
divers constructions of our writings make  
The charitable Reader should conceive  
The best intentions mine, and others leave:  
Chiefly in that, where I forehand protest,  
My meaning ever was the honestest.  
And if I say so, what is he may know  
So much as to affirm it was not so?  
Sat other men so near my thought to show it?  
Or is my heart so open that all know it?  
Sure if it were, they would no such things see,  
As those whereof some have accused me.  
But I am careless how't be understood,  
Because the Heavens know my intent was good.  
And if it be so, that my too free Rhymes  
Do much displease the world, and these bad times;  
'tis not my fault, for had I been employed  
In something else, all this had now been void.  
Or if the world would but have granted me  
Wealth, or Affairs, whereon to busy me,  
I now unheard of, peradventure than,  
Had been as mute as some rich Clergyman.  
But they are much deceived that think my mind  
Will e'er be still, while it can doing find,  
Or that unto the world so much it leans,  
As to be curtold for default of means.  
No, though most be, all Spirits are not earth,  
Nor suiting with the fortunes of their birth,  
My body's subject unto many powers,  
But my soul's free, as is the Emperors:  
And though to curb her in, I oft assay,  
She'll break in't action spite of dirt and cl●y.  
And is't not better then, to take this course,  
Then f●ll to study mischiefs, and do worse?  
I say she must have action, and she shall:  
For if she will, how can I do withal?  
And let those that or'e-busie think me▪ know,  
He made me, that knew why he made me so.  
And though there's some that say, my thoughts do fly  
A pitch beyond my state's sufficiency;  
My humble mind, I give my Saviour thank,  
Aspires nought yet, above my fortune's rank.  
But say it did, wil't not befit a man,  
To raise his thoughts as near Heaven as he can?  
Mu●t the free Spirit tied and kerbed be,  
A●●o●ding to the body's poverty?  
Or can it ever be so subject to  
Base Change, to rise and fall, as fortunes do?  
Men borne to Noble means and vulgar minde●  
Enjoy their wealth, and there's no Law that binds  
Such to abate their substance, though their Pa●es  
Want Brain, and they Worth, to possess their states▪  
So God to some, doth only great minds give,  
And little other means whereon to live.  
What law, or conscience, then shall make them smother  
Their Spirit, which is their life, more than other  
T'abate their substance? since if 'twere confessed,  
That a brave mind could ever be suppressed,  
Were't reason any should himself deprive  
Of what the whole world hath not power to give?  
Since wealth is common, and fools get it to,  
When to give spirit's more than Kings can do?  
I speak not this, because I think there be,  
More than the ordinariest gifts in me;  
But against those who think I do presume  
On more than doth befit me to assume,  
Or would have all, whom Fortune bars from store,  
Make themselves wretched, as she makes them poor.  
And cause in outward things she is unkind,  
Smother the matchless blessings of their mind:  
Whereas (although her favours do forsake them)  
Their minds are richer than the world can make them.  
Why should a good attempt disgraced seem,  
Because the person is of mean esteem?  
virtue's a chaste Queen, and yet doth not scor●e  
To be embraced by him that's meanest borne.  
She is the prop, that majesties support,  
Yet one whom Slaves as well as Kings may Court.  
She loveth all that bear affection to her,  
And yields to any that hath heart to woo her.  
So Vice, how high so ere she be in place,  
Is that which Grooms may spit at, in disgrace.  
She is a strumpet, and may be abhorred,  
Yea spurned at, in the bosom of a Lord.  
Yet had I spoke her fair, I had b●ene free,  
As many others of her Lovers be.  
If her escapes I had not chanced to tell,  
I might have be●ne a villain, and done well.  
Got some special favour, and not sat  
As now I do, shut up within a grate.  
Or if I could have happed on some loose strain▪  
That might have pleased the wanton readers vain:  
Or but clawed Pride, I now had been unblamed:  
(Or else at least there's some would not have shamed  
To plead my cause:) but see my fatal curse,  
Sure I was either mad, or somewhat worse:  
For I saw Vices followers bravely kept,  
In Silks they walks, on beds of Down they slept  
Richly they fed, on dainties evermore,  
They had their pleasure, they had all things store,  
(Whilst virtue ●egg'd) yea favours had so many,  
I knew they brook't not to be touched of any:  
Yet could not I, like other men, be wise,  
Nor learn for all this, how to temporize;  
But must (with too much honesty made blind)  
upbraid this loved darling of mankind;  
Whereas I might have better thrived by feigning,  
Or if I could not choose but be complaining,  
More safe I might have railed on Virtue sure,  
Because her lovers, and her friends are fewer,  
I might have brought some other thing to pass,  
Made Fiddlers Song●, or Ballads, like an Ass.  
Or any thing almost indeed but this,  
Yet since 'tis thus, I'm glad 'tis ●o amiss;  
Because If I am guilty of a crime,  
'Tis that, wherein the best of every time,  
Hath been found faulty (if they faulty be)  
That do reprove Abuse and Villainy.  
For what I'm taxed, I can examples show,  
In such old Authors as this s●ate allow.  
And I would feign once learn a reason why  
They can have kinder usage here then I.  
I muse men do not now in question call,  
Seneca, Horace, Perseus, juvenal.  
And such as they; Or why did not that Age  
In which they lived, put them in a Cage?  
If I should say that men were juster then,  
I should near hand, be made vnsayed again.  
And therefore sure I think I were as good  
Leave it to others to be understood;  
Yet I as well may speak as deem amiss,  
F●r such this Ages curious cunning is  
I scarcely dare to let my heart think aught,  
For there be those will seem to know my thought,  
Who may outface me that I think awry,  
When there's no witness but my Conscience by.  
And then I likely am as ill to speed,  
As if I spoke or did amiss indeed,  
Yet lest those who (perhaps) may malice this  
Interpret also these few lines amiss,  
Let them that after thee shall read or hear,  
From a rash censure of my thoughts forbear.  
Let them not mould the sense that this contains  
According to the forming of their brains,  
Or think I dare, or can, here tax those Peers,  
Whose Worths their Honours to my soul endears,  
(Those by whose loved-fear'd Authority)  
I am restrained of my liberty:  
For lest there yet may be a man so ill,  
To haunt my lines with his black Comment still,  
(In hope my luck again may be so good,  
To have my words once rightly understood)  
This I protest, that I do not condemn  
Ought as unjust that hath been done by them;  
For though my honest h●●rt not guilty be,  
Of the lea●t thought, that may disparaged me,  
Yet ●hen such men as I, shall have such foes,  
Accuse me of such crimes, to such as those,  
Till I had means my Innocence to show,  
Their justice could have done no less than so.  
Nor have I such a proud-conceited wit,  
Or self-opinion of my knowledge yet,  
To think it ●ay not be that I have run  
Upon some Errors in what I have done,  
Worthy this punishment which I endure,  
(I say I cannot so myself assure)  
For 'tis no wonder if their Wisdoms can,  
Discover Impe●fections in a man  
So weak a● ay▪ (more than himself doth see,  
Since my sight, dull with insufficiency,  
In men more grave and wiser fa●re than I,  
Innumerable Errors doth espy,  
Which they with all their knowledge I'll be bold.  
Cannot, or will not, in themselves behold)  
But ere I will myself accuse my Song,  
O● keep a Tongue shall do my Heart that wrong  
To say I willingly in what I pe●d  
Did aught which might a Goods mans ●ight offend,  
Or with my knowledge did insert one word,  
That might disparaged a true Honoured Lord▪  
Let it be in my mouth a helpless sore,  
And never speak to be believed more.  
But man irresolute is, unconstant, weak,  
And doth his purpose oft through frailty break▪  
Lest therefore I by force hereafter m●y  
Be brought from this mind, and these words unsay▪  
Here to the world I do proclaim before,  
●ere my resolution be so poor,  
'Tis no● the Right, but Might that makes me do it,  
Yea nought but fearful baseness brings me to it,  
Which i● I still hate, as I now detest,  
Never can come to harbour in my breast.  
Thus my fault then (if they a fault imply)  
Is not alone an ill unwillingly,  
But also, might I know it, I intent,  
Not only to acknowledge, but amend:  
Hoping that thou wilt not be so severe,  
To punish me above all other here.  
But for m'intents sake, and my love to Truth,  
Impute my Errors to the heat of Youth▪  
Or rather Ignorance, then to my W●ll,  
Which sure I am was good, what ere be ●ll,  
And like to him now, in whose place thou art,  
What e'er the resdue be, accept the Heart.  
But I grow tedious, and my love abused  
Disturbs my thoughts, and makes my lines confused:  
Yet pardon me, and deign a gracious ey●  
On this my rude unfilled Apology.  
Let not the bluntness of my phrase offend,  
Weigh but the matter▪ and not how 'tis penned.  
By these abrupt lines in my just defence,  
judge what I might say, for my innocence.  
And think I more could speak, that here I spare,  
Because my power suits not to what I dare.  
My unaffected style re●aynes (you see)  
Her old Freeze Cloak of yo●ng Rusticity▪  
If others will vs● nea●er tea●m●●, they may,  
Ruder I am yet love as well as they.  
And (though if I would smoothed I cannot do't)  
My humble heart I bend beneath thy foot:  
While here my Muse her discontent do●h sing  
To thee her great Apollo, and my King:  
Emploring thee by that high sacred Name,  
By justice, by those powers that I could name:  
By whatsoe'er may move, entreat I thee,  
To be what thou art unto all, to m●.  
I fear it not, yet give me leave to pray,  
I may have foes whose power doth bear such sway,  
If they but say I'm guilty of offence,  
'Twere vain for me to plead my innocence.  
But as the name of God thou bearest, I trust  
Thou imitatest him to, in being just:  
That when the right of truth thou comest to scan,  
Thou'lt not respect the person of the man:  
For if thou do, then is my hope undone,  
The headlong way to ruin I must run.  
For whilst that they have all the helps which may  
Procure their pleasure with my soon decay▪  
How is it like that I my peace can win me,  
When all the aid I have, comes from with●● me?  
Therefore (good King) that mak'st thy bounty shine  
Sometime on those whose worths are small as mine;  
Oh save me now from Enui●● dangerous shelf,  
Or make me able, and I'll save myself.  
Let not the want of that make me a scorn,  
To which there are more Fool●● then Wisemen borne.  
Let me not for my Meanness be despi●'d,  
Nor others greatness make th●ir words more prized.  
For whatsoe'er my outward Fate appears,  
My soul's as g●od, my Heart as great as their●.  
My love unto my Country an● to thee,  
As much as his that more would seem to be.  
And would this Age allow but means to show it,  
Those that misdoubts, ●hould ●re long time know it.  
Pity my youth then, and let me not lie  
Wasting my time in fruitless misery.  
Though I am mean, I may be borne unto  
That service which another cannot do.  
In vain the little Mouse the Lion spared not,  
She did him pleasure when a greater dared not.  
If aught that I have done, do thee displease,  
Thy misconceived wrath I will appease:  
Or sacrifice my heart; but why should I  
Suffer for God knows whom, I know not why?  
If that my words through sums mistake offends,  
Let them conceive them right, and make amends.  
Or were I guilty of offence indeed,  
One fault (they say) doth but one pardon need.  
Yet one I had, and now I want one more:  
For once I stood accused for this before.  
As I remember I so long agone,  
S●ng Thame, and Rhy●es Epithalamion.  
When SHE that from thy Royal self deriue●,  
Those gracious virtues that best Title gives.  
She that makes Rhyne proud of her excellence,  
And me oft mind her here with reverence;  
Deigned in her great-good nature to incline  
Her gentle ear to such a cause a● mine;  
And which is more, vouchsafed her word to clear  
Me from all dangers (if there any were)  
So that I do not now entreat, or sue  
For any great boon, or request that's new▪  
But only this, (though absent from the Land)  
Her former favour still in force might stand:  
And that her word (who present was so dear)  
Might be as powerful, as when she was here.  
Which if I find, and with thy favour may  
Have leave to shake my loathed bands away,  
(As I do hope I shall) and be set free  
From all the troubles this hath brought on me,  
I'll make her Name give life unto a Song,  
Whose never-dying note shall last as long  
As there is either River, Grove, or Spring,  
Or Down, for Sheep, or shepherds Lad to sing.  
Yea, I will teach my Muse to touch a strain,  
That was near reached to yet by any Swain.  
For though that many deem my years vnri●e,  
Yet I ●aue learned to tune an Oaten pipe,  
Whereon I'll try what music I can make me,  
(Until Bellona ●with her Trump awake me.)  
And since the world will not have Vice thus shown,  
By blazing Virtue I will make it known.  
Th●n if the Court will not my lines approve,  
I'll go unto some Mountain, or thick Grove:  
There to my fellow Shepherds will I sing,  
Tuning my Reed, unto some dancing Spring,  
In such a note, that none should dare to trouble it,  
Till th● Hil●es answer, and th● Woods redouble it.  
And peradventure I may then go near  
To speak of something thou'lt be pleasded to hear:  
And that which those who now my tunes abhor,  
Shall read, and like, and deign to love me for.  
But the mean while, oh pass not thi● suit by,  
Let thy free hand sign me my liberty:  
And if my love may move thee more to do,  
Good King consider this my trouble to.  
Others have found thy favour in distress,  
Whose love to thee and thine I think was less  
And I might fitter for thy service live,  
On what would not be much for thee to give.  
And yet I ask it not for that I fear  
The outward means of life should fa●●e me here▪  
For though I want to compass those good ●n●s  
I aim at for my Country and my Friends.  
In this poor state I can as well content me,  
As if that I had Wealth and Honours lent me;  
Nor for my own sake do I seek to shun  
This thraldom, wherein now I seem undone:  
For though I prise my Freedom more than Gold,  
And use the means to free myself from hold,  
Yet with a mind (I hope) unchanged and free,  
Here can I live and play with misery:  
Yea in despite of want and slavery,  
Laugh at the world in all her bravery,  
Here have I learned to make my greatest Wrong●  
Matter of Mirth, and subjects but for Songs.  
Here can I smile to see myself neglected,  
And how the mean man's suit is disrespected,  
Whilst those that are more rich, and better friended,  
Can have twice greater faults thrice sooner ended.  
All this, yea more, I see and suffer to,  
Yet live content, midst discontents I do,  
Which whilst I can, it is all one to me,  
Whether in Prison or abroad it be:  
For should I still lie here distressed and poor,  
It shall not make me breathe a sigh the mor●;  
Since to myself it is indifferent  
Where the small remnant of my days be spent,  
But for Thy sake, my Countries, and my Friends,  
For whom more than myself God this life lends,  
I would not, could I help it, be a scorn,  
But l●ue (if I might) free, as I was borne:  
Or rather for good Bell-arete's sake,  
Fa●●e Ver●●● of ●hom most account I make,  
If I can choose, I will not be deba●'d,  
In this last action, lest She be disgraced.  
For 'twas the love of her that brought me to  
What Spleen nor Envy could not make me do,  
And if her servants be no more regarded,  
If enemies of Vice be thus rewarded,  
And I should also Virtues wrongs conceal,  
As if none lived to whom she dared appeal:  
Will they that do not yet her worth approve,  
Be ever drawn to entertain her love,  
When they ●●all see hi● plagued as an Offender,  
Who for the love he bears her, doth commend her?  
This may to others more offensive be,  
Then prejudicial any way to me:  
For who will his endeavours ever bend  
To follow her, whom there is ●one will friend?  
Some I do hope there be that nothing may  
From love of Truth and Honesty dismay.  
But who will ever seeing my hard Fortune,  
The remedy of Times Abuse importune?  
Who will again when they have smothered me,  
Dart to oppose the face of Villainy?  
Whereas he shall not only undertake  
A Combat with a second Lernaean Snake,  
Whose ever-growing heads when as he crops,  
Not only two Springs, for each one he lops,  
But also he shall see in midst of dangers,  
Those he thought friends turn foes, or at lea●● stranger's.  
More I could speak, but sure if this do ●aile me,  
I never shall do aught that will a●a●●e me,  
Nor c●re to speak again, unless it be  
To him that knows how Heart and Words agreed,  
No, nor to live when none dares undertake  
To speak one word for honest virtues sake.  
But let his will be done, that best knows what  
Will be my future good, and what will not.  
Hap well or ill, my spotless meaning's fair,  
And for thee, this shall ever be my prayer,  
That thou mayst here enjoy a long-blest Reign,  
And dying, be in Heaven Recrowned again.  
SO now if thou hast deigned my Lines to hear,  
There's nothing can befall me that I fear:  
For if thou hast compassion on my trouble,  
The joy I shall receive will be made double;  
And if I fall, it may some Glory be,  
That none but JOVE himself did ruin me.  
Your majesties most loyal Subject, and yet Prisoner in the Marshals●y. GEO. wither.