A STRAPPADO for the Devil. EPIGRAMS AND satires alluding to the time, with divers measures of no less Delight.  
By 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to his friend 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Nemo me impune lacessit.  
At London printed by I. B. for Richard Redmer and are to be sold at the West door of Paul's at the Star. 1615.   

The Author's Anagram.  
RICHARD BRATHWAITE.  
Virtue hath bar Credit.  

This I'll avow, (for it is I that said it)  
If Virtue have no coin, she has no Credit.    

TO THE Worthily esteemed the true Character of a Generous disposition, Sir THOMAS GAINSFORD Knight, his Virtues endeared Admiror, wisheth fullness of content in the Dedication of these his Anagrams extracted from his Name, and concording with his Nature.  
Thomas Gainsforde.  
Anagram  
So fame doth reign.  

SO Fame doth reign with Anagrams so fit  
As if that Nature had invented it:  
For he that knows thy Virtues and thy Name,  
Will say all reign in thee, all ring thy Fame.   
Thomas Gainsford.  
Anagram  
Shade t'Honours game.  

A pale for shelter of her game is made,  
And thou to Honour's game art made a shade,  
Thy Huntsup's Virtue, and thy Beagle grace,  
Which (well in wind) hath still the game in chase.    

To his much honoured and endeared Maecenas (the expressiu'st Character of a generous Spirit) judicious approver of best-meriting Poesy, Guerdoner of Arts, cherisher of Wits, and serious Protector of all freeborn Studies, M THOMAS POSTHUMUS DIGGS, the Author humbly dedicates himself, his Time-suting Epigrams with the use of his divinely importing Anagram  
Anagramma.  
Thomas Posthumus Digges.  
Though time pass, God sums.  

In Anagramma Distichon.  
HOw well thy Anagram with truth it runs,  
Though time pass near so fast, yet God still sums.   
Or thus.  
Hope's issue most dem' gauged.   

Another Anagram.  

Two verses including the Anagram.  
PVblique and private men in young and aged,  
on whom most hope is, then we deem most gagt.   

Annexed.  
At you (fair mirror) aim I; you're my scope,  
Much are you gauged unto your countries hope.    

To the gentle Reader.  
IF I give thee a deserving Title (Gentle Reader) no question but thou wilt express thyself in thy censure: thouart no wri-neck critic, politic informer of States, depraver of well intended lines, nor maligner of others labours: Be thine own precedent in the survey of these distempered Epigrams; and therein thou may perform the part of an honest man: cancel the bill of errors, or chalk them on, & they shall serve to make up a greater volume for next impression. If thou be gentle (as I term thee) and hast sense, thou wilt supply many defects, committed in the Press by the Author's absence. Be honest still and thou art out of the swing of this strappado: if thou play Recreant (by consorting with the swarthy miscreants of Lucifer) the Author hath vowed he will play Arch-Pyrate with thee, tie thee like a Galley slave to the Mast of his Malu-Sperauza, and ferry thee over into Tartary.  
Farewell.   

To his BOOK.  
Book whither goes thou, I had rather have thee  
To stay still with me, for my Book may save me:  
Save me, its true, and that's the cause I crave  
Thou thou de to the world, that thou the world might save;  
But that's a task (my book) too hard for thee,  
Bid hang the world so that thou wilt save me:  
Yet pray thee be advised whom thou dost check,  
For speaking truth may chance to break thy neck.  
Which to prevent, let this be understood,  
Great men though ill they must be styled good,  
Their black is white, their vice is virtue made:  
But amongst the base call still a spade a spade;  
If thou canst thus dispense (my book) with crimes,  
Thou shalt be hugged and honoured in these times.   

The Epistle Dedicatory.  
To all Usurers, Brokers, and Promoters, Sergeants, Catchpoles, and Regraters, Ushers, Panders, Suburbs Traders, Cockneys that have many fathers.  
Ladies, Monkeys, Parachitoes, Marmosites, and Catomitoes, Falls, hightires and rebatoes, false-haires, periwigs, monchatoes: grave Gregorians, and Shee-painters.  
Send I greeting at adventures, and to all such as be evil, my strappado for the Devil.   

Upon the Errata.  
GEntlemen (humanum est errare) to confirm which position, this my book (as many other are) hath his share of errors; so as I run ad praelum tanquam ad praelium, in typos quasi in scippos: but my comfort is if I be strappadoed by the multiplicity of my errors, it is but answerable to my title: so as I may seem to divine by my style, what I was to endure by the press. Yet know judicious disposed Gentlemen, that the intricacy of the copy, and the absence of the Author from many important proofs were occasion of these errors, which defects (if they be supplied by your generous connivence and courteous disposition, I do vow to satisfy your affectionate care with a more serious survey in my next impression.  

Errata.  
PAge 2 line 23 for Pine read Vine. p. 10. l. 20 alone wanting p. 16 l. 13. for senselessness read sensele●sse. p. 15. l. ●● for vainelike, r. vainly p. 26 l. 11. for both fo●s●●th so 〈◊〉, p. 35 l. 25. for wherefore, read wheresoe'er. p. 43. l. 22. for shirts r. sheets for weaves, r. woes infra p. l. 25. p. 48. l 4 r ●l●z●. ibid. for back r. bark. p. 266. l. 23 for mistrust, r. instruct. for curse read scarce.  
For other errors as the misplacing of commaes, colons, and periods (which as they are in every page obvious, so many times they invert the sense) I refer to your discretion (judicious gentlemen) whose lenity may sooner supply them, than all my iudustrie can portray them.    

TO THE TRUE Discoverer of secrets Mounsieur Bacchus, sole Sovereign of the juy-bush, Master-gunner of the pottle-pot ordinance, prime founder of Red lattices, cheerer of the hunger-starved Muses, and their thread bare followers, singular Artist in pewter language, and an observant linguist for anon anon Sir.  
His dere-Canary-Bird, wisheth, red-eyes, dropsy legs, and all other accoutrements befitting.  
Bottle-nosed Bacchus with thy bladder face,  
To thee my Muse comes reeling for a place:  
And craves thy Patronage; nor do I fear,  
But my poor fragments shall be made of there,  
For good reversions by thy scrambling crew,  
That belch, and read, and at each interview  
Of a sharp tempered line, commend the vain,  
Digest it, and then rift it up again;  
But know thou cup shot god, what is expressed,  
Within these Pages do deserve the best  
Of thy lightheaded Shamroes, nor's mies touch  
For such as love to take a cup toomuch.  
No, no my lines (though I did seem to stand,  
And beg a poor protection at thy hand,)  
Shall live in spite of Time, for Time shall see  
The curtain of her vices drawn by me;  
And though portrayed by a less artful fist,  
Yet he that limm'd them is a Satirist,  
For th'lines he writes (if ought he write at all)  
Are drawn by ink that's mixed most with gall.  
Yea, he was borne, even from his infancy,  
To tell the world her shame, and bitterly  
To tax those crimes which harbour now and then  
Within the bosoms of the greatest men.  
" Yea, nought I do but I again will do it,  
" Nor aught will write, but I will answer to it:  
Yet would I not, great Bacchus, have thee think  
My Muse can into that oblivion sink,  
As to become forgetful so of thee,  
(For so she might unthankful seem to be)  
As never to record thy worthy Name  
Since I confess from thee that spirit came,  
Which first inspired my Muse (by thee expressed)  
For when she spoke the least, she wrote the best.  
Yea, thou it was, (and so I'll ever hold,)  
That quickened me and made me speak more bold;  
By that rare quintessence drawn from the pine,  
Or from those fluent Hogshead pipes of thine.  
And I do thank thee: yet thus much I'll say,  
For any kindness shown me any way,  
By thee, or thy attendants, I may swear  
Not any one did ever yet appear:  
Nay, I could say (and truly too) far more  
I never ran ten shillings on thy score,  
Which may seem strange, that I which am so grown  
Into acquaintance, and to thee well known:  
" Should in thy book have such a diffidence,  
As not be chalked for want of ready pence;  
Nay, there's an other reason I could show,  
Which might infer that thou dost duty owe  
To men of our profession, and its this;  
(If my conceit make me not think amiss.)  
Tell me, Where hadst thou juie-bush, say where?  
Which as thine ancient liv'rie thou dost wear;  
That garland-sure methinks that I should know it,  
From th'Temples sure of some pot-hardy Poet;  
Who, cause he had not wherewithal to pay,  
Was forced to leave his Garland, or to stay  
Till some of's Patrons pitied his estate:  
But he, poor man, clear out of hope of that  
Having discussed it often in his mind,  
Did think't more fit to leave his wreath behind,  
Then into such apparent danger fall,  
And so did unto one of th'Drawers call  
To tell thee, if thou wouldst be so content,  
He would engage his juie-ornament;  
Which thou being glad of, for thy private use  
Wore it thyself and cheated the Poet thus.  
Now dost thou think, that we can brook to have  
One of our sort thus injured by a slave,  
Without all satisfaction: Bacchus no,  
〈…〉 thy ●ro●mes, we'll not be baffelt so.  
〈…〉 of thy bush again,  
〈…〉 thy wreath about the Poet's brain.  
Or satisfy his damage in some sort,  
" Or be thou sure that thou shalt answer for't.  
But thou wilt lightly weigh such threats as these,  
And say thou canst bring us upon our knees  
By th'power of thy command: true thou canst so,  
Yet (blear eyed Bacchus) I would have thee know  
That we do so esteem thy power and all  
Thy followers, we'll vent thee 'gainst the wall:  
Yea even the kennel shall a witness be,  
Of the small respect which we do bear to thee.  
Resign then what thou owest, or forbear,  
To tax our credits when our skore's not clear.  
For well mayst thou forbear both them and me,  
Since thou dost owe us more, than we owe thee.  
Thou knowst it Bacchus (if so thou wilt know it)  
That garland which thou wears, it was a Poet  
That first empaund it, and thou like a jew  
Will't not restore to him what is his due.  
But thou wilt answer (as I know thou may)  
Yea, I imagine what 'tis thou canst say:  
" Bacchus cares not for outward signs a rush,  
" Good wine needs not the hanging of a bush.  
Dost not thou vizzard-faced ingrateful Elf?  
Yes, for want of a bush thou'd hang thyself.  
And ●aper like a zwinglian (o my malice  
Bursts out against thee) titted under the gallows.  
For tell me how should men distinguish thee?  
Thou'lt say by thy fire-sparkling phisnomy,  
Those wink-a pipes of thine, those ferret eyes,  
Those bagpipe cheeks, those special qualities  
Thou art endued with true by th'first thouart known,  
But for thy qualities thou hast not one  
To glory in: for speeches ornament  
Anon, anon sit:— peut or complement  
Is all thou canst, and this, thou knowest is such,  
As th'Iay or Parrot they can do as much;  
But I am loath to tax each crime of thine,  
For I do know thou lov'st the Muses nine,  
And they love thee, yet it is fit their used  
With more respect, then to be once abused  
By any apron-prentice that thou hast:  
Yea, fit it is not they should be outfaced  
By such unlettered Animals as these,  
But reverence the Muses on their knees,  
For what be these attend thee, such as lost  
Their tongue to gain two or three words at most,  
As for example neat and brisk, and then  
Anon, anon sir, welcome gentlemen.  
And is it fit that swads of such desert  
Should stay the very quintessence of art  
For a nonpayment? or make Sergeants stand  
In a crosse-lane to lay unhallowed hand  
On Albion's Mercuries? no, it's not fit  
That Hypocrenes pure rivelings of wit,  
Should have their stream with honour doubled)  
By such base tenterhooks once troubled.  
Let this be then amended (and with haste)  
Lest some of these professors should be placed,  
Before thy prohibition come to stay  
Thy will-for in, they'll hardly get away.  
But if I hear thee Bacchus after this  
That thou arrests but any one I wish  
Thou shouldst exempt I will revenged be  
Ere many days, of some of thine or thee.  
And thanks unto my Genius (as I crave it)  
Without invention further now I have it.  
And thus it is: I'll to the Pewterer  
To make thy quart pots greater than they were;  
And so condition with him, as't may be  
Thou wilt confess one day I begared thee:  
Or if I cannot by my means entreat  
Thy pottle-pots for to be made more great  
Then th'order is, or th'cities stamp allows,  
I hope I shall prevail with some of those  
Who are appointed by their charge to know,  
Whether thy pots be sealed yea or no,  
That such as are not sealed they would reveal them,  
And not take bribes in private to conceal them:  
Or if this will not serve, I will devise  
How to bring th'pots unto a larger size;  
Which if they do neglect but to perform,  
According to that Nature and that form  
They are prescribed, then on default they shall  
Make presently a forfeiture of all,  
(Which goods confiscate for their great abuse,  
May afterward redound unto the use  
Of all such noble skinkers (by confession)  
As were deceived by men of this profession;  
But this's not all I'll do: Bacchus shall know  
His naprie-drawers shall not end it so.  
surveyors shall beget (and well may be)  
(For worse trades have sought monopoly;  
And raised their state by't) which shall strictly take  
Examination, whether you do make  
Your pottles to be bruised, boughed, crushed, & bend  
Upon set purpose and for this intent,  
That you thereby (which is a common crime)  
Might fill your crazy pots with lesser wine,  
For lesser will they hold, through your deceit,  
Being drawn in and made by you more strait:  
Yet have I left the Cooper's all this while,  
Which I do know have some art to beguile.  
And therefore, if all will not serve; I'll seek  
And bribe them too, to make your vessels leek.  
Yea, beside this (know Bacchus) I've a mean,  
Which put in practice will undo thee clean,  
And thus I lay my project: I'll express  
What motives there be of licentiousness.  
Within thy brothel closures, and withal  
Complain of thy partitions, how the fall  
Of many a simple Virgin (though she's loath,  
To do't poore-wench) comes from a painted cloth▪  
A curtain, or some hanging of like sort,  
Which done god-wot, they've cause to curse thee for't.  
And that this might better prevented be,  
I will prefer petition instantly,  
That thou nor none of thine should suffer thence,  
(for to avoid this inconvenience)  
Any of different sexes being but pairs,  
To go in private manner up the stairs:  
And this I know (if that my aim be right,  
Will go well nigh to overthrow thee quite.  
If none of these will do, yet sure I am  
There is a creature called the Puritan,  
Who'll ferret thee, and by a strict survey  
Fine thee for bousing on the Sabboath day,  
Which if they find, the Righteous they will curse  
Though their example it be ten times worse.  
But I would have thee to repress all this,  
Which thou shalt do by doing what I wish,  
And that with reason, which (as I have said it)  
Is but to give to our profession credit:  
They'll pay the man, and if the world go hard,  
With them at this time, yet they'll afterward,  
Regratulate thy love (paying th'old sko●e)  
Which paid they will make bold to run on more.  
For tell me Bacchus, though the world appear  
To learned men as if no learning were:  
And that the golden age (not as it was)  
Smiles on the silken fool, or golden Ass;  
Yet time will come (yea now it doth begin  
To show itself (as former times have been)  
When wise Minerva shall no honour lack.  
For all the fool, whose honour's on his back.  
But I shall stagger Bacchus if I stay  
Longer with thee, therefore I'll pack away  
Unto thy sister Ceres:— I have said  
— Only look to thy plate, for a●l is paid.   

To the Queen of Harvest, daughter and heir to Saturn, and Ops, Goddess of the Cornethease, Lady Soveraignenesse of the three Vales, Esam, Bevar and White-horse, Inuentres of the Sith, Sickle, and weeding-Hooke: much honoured by the Reed, Corn Pipe, and Whistle; and with all observance attended by Hobnail and his company.  
Her Deities admirer wisheth many a seasonable Harvest.  
Hail fruitful Lady, cheerer of our time,  
Rare in thy beauty, in thy state divine,  
Ripener of Harvest, thou it is whose birth  
Yields full increase unto the fertile earth:  
Thou art that cheering mother that renews  
The Ploughman's hope, and gives their toil those dews,  
Which makes them happy, may my Poems please  
Thy honoured self, that glads us with increase▪  
Yet in my mirth I cannot but repine  
At that unhappy ackward loss of thine,  
That thou which ever hast been debonair,  
Fair in thyself, making our fields as fair,  
With thy endered respect, should be exiled,  
Of due content, by losing of thy child,  
Thy heart, thy hope, thy love, and thy delight,  
Thy dear Proserpiva, whose vow is plight  
Unto, alas I cannot speak it well,  
That black-blacht-blabber-lipt foul Prince of hell.  
Yet be contented, many one there be,  
Yea I know some which may lament with thee  
For their strayed daughters, who I much do fear  
Are lodged now, or will be lodged there.  
Lass it is nothing for maids now adays  
For which of them (though modest) hath not strays,  
In youth, in age, which straying I do call,  
Dotage in maids, and that is worst of all.  
How many have we in this error swerud,  
Who in themselves have justly well deserved.  
That punishment thy daughter first regained,  
Alas I have known them though they seem contained  
In modest bounds, yet thus much I will say,  
Thy daughter was unchaste▪ & so were they.  
And (pray thee Ceres) credit me in this,  
Though my proceeding was not to my wish,  
Yet this to thy due comfort I must tell,  
Thy daughter doth not live in Hell  
Without acquaintance, yea I know there are,  
Though they in sumptuous raiment and in fare  
Seem to excel the worthies of our Land,  
Yet being justly poized under hand,  
They are as near to Pluto and his heir,  
As if those persons that less gorgeous were,  
May I speak more, for I am in a vain,  
To cull strange things out of a straggling brain,  
That there's no wench truly ingenious,  
Witty by nature, or ambitious  
In her conceit, but that the time will come,  
That she will wander full as far from home,  
As ere thy dear Proserpina distraide,  
Transformed from beauty of a lovely maid.  
To be a drudge ('las I am forced to tell)  
Unto the base-born Skinkird bred in Hell.  
Do I not know thee Ceres? yes, I know  
Far more of thee, than I intent to show  
In public eye: 'Las I do know thy worth,  
To be the fruitful Mother of the earth,  
Albion's faire-Fostermother, yea that Queen,  
That makes a hopeful Harvest to be seen.  
Within our flowery Fields: if I might say,  
What I in due respect am bound alway  
For to express I might example thee,  
To be the glory of our progeny;  
Honour of ages, and success of time,  
Errecting to thyself that noble shrine,  
Which near shall be defaced by time or age,  
The best of labour in our Pilgrimage.  
Then Ceres let thy daughter work, for one  
Thou art in due respect admired alone  
To be the sovereigness of Albion's Isle,  
Who when retired brains do sleep the while,  
Shalt show thyself worthy a sacred power,  
Though thy vain daughter play in hell the whore.  
Yea fit it is, and suiting to her birth,  
She should play bawd in hell played whore on earth.   

To the Amorous Queen of Delights, Sole Empress of lovesick Bedlams▪ professed patroness to all young Lechers, Foundress of Midnight-revels, Sentinel to many a cracked Maidenhead, an a sole Benefactor to all lascivious Novices; Best habilimented by her Coach drawn with four Turtles, bearing for her arms a Prick in the midst of a Centre, with this Motto;  
Pungimur in Medio.  
And on the other side a woman-captive (instanced in Penthisilaea) with this word,  
Vincitur a victo, victor.  
Her much Endered and affectionate Paliurus wisheth many long delightful night, Mars his presence. Vulcan's absence, much good sport without discovery, and many years yet to continue her husband's Livery.  


a Carp●t e●im vires paulatim uritque videndo. Femina. Virg.  Bacchus and Ceres if they be away,  

b Res vulgaris amor, semel insanimius omnes.  Small good do I look for, may Venus say.   

CHerry-lipt Venus with thy dimpled Chin,  
Who by our Lechers▪ honoured still hast been:  
For a brave trading damsel, though't may seem,  
By my neglect of thee, that I have clean  
Descarded thee and thine, yet thou shalt know it▪  
Venus hath some alliance with a Poet,  
And that a near one too: for pray thee say,  
Who can express thy beauty any way,  
So well as they? and though they only write,  
ha●ing near hap to come to more delight;  
Yet art thou much endeared to their Art,  
Though they can say nought for the practic part:  
Yet 'mongst our Albion Sibyls that are more,  
In number far, than merit, wit, or power.  
Some I do know, even of the pregnant'st men,  
That love to trade with Venus now and then.  
And this the cause why they observe that use,  
(As I have heard) for to inflame their Muse:  
And some I could produce, had their desire;  
For they, their Muse, and all were on a fire.  
More could I write to touch thee neerer'th quick,  
But as thou loves those strokes are short & thick.  
So I desire the very same to be  
In writing out that is concerning thee.    

An Heroic Emblem upon the Warrior called HONORA.  
TAra, Tantara, Honours signal come,  
Whose best of Music is the warlike Drum,  
Come brave Tyndarian spirit, hear thy glory,  
Shrouded too long in pitchy dark, whose story,  
Shall shine and show itself more fair, more bright,  
Then chaste La●ona on the sablest night.  
Now art thou much admired by every eye,  
Though lately vass●ld to captivity.  
Now art thou shown to be a Monument,  
Of former glory, and an ornament,  
●it for the ear of Kings, now art thou one,  
Highly esteemed, that was of late as none.  
Now canst thou show thy merit and desert,  
To be derived from a royal heart.  
Not chafed with perfumes, like a Carpet Knight,  
That cannot fight but in his Lady's sight.  
Not sick ofth fashions, (like this amorous fry  
Of Novice, who near knew Enemy)  
Save their disdainful Mistress: not enthralled  
To love, for love thou know'st not how it's called.  
What style it has, or what be lovers charms,  
Save that pure love which thou dost bear to Arms.  
Not servile to each apish complement,  
Save Honour's service, and Wares management.  
Not slave to Fortune, nor engaged to fate,  
But heir to resolution, an estate  
More eminent and glorious to thyself,  
Then all the raisers-mammons' mouldred-pelfe,  
No● vain like proud of ●itles, but hast Art,  
To make thy wa●● to Honour by Desert.  
Not ga●e to prostitution, for the name  
Of Soldier hate such an ignoble slain.  
Not lure to lucre, but dost make thy blood,  
An instrument unto thy country's good:  
Not in appearance, or in outward show,  
To seem to know what thou didst never know,  
Not humorous, occasioning offence,  
But with pure valour mixing patience;  
That two reduced to one, one drawn from two,  
Might make thee apt to speak, & prompt to do.  
Long hast thou slept, and some did think it ill  
To wake thee, but to let thee sleep on still.  
But how can resolution lie interred  
Alas how far have vulgar judgements erred?  
To think the senselessness? No, thou didst but wink,  
For to observe what other men would think  
Of thy retired silence, now thou h●st  
Rubbed o'er thy gummy eyes, & runs as fast  
To thy intendments forced from coast to coast,  
As willing to redeem what thou hast lost.  
Hollow amain, down by the flowery vale  
Of honour and renown display thy sail,  
Trample on Bastard greatness, bruit their shame,  
That are esteemed only great in name,  
Without demerit, tell them worth should be  
Drawn from ourselves, not from our family.  
Bid them wipe of that painting from their cheek,  
It's too effeminate and bid them seek,  
Actions that seem them better, it's not amber,  
Sleeking, or chase in a Lady's chamber,  
Fantastic humours, amorous conceits,  
Fashion inventors sin seducing baits,  
What such a Mounseyr wore, or what Tires be  
Of eminent request in Italy.  
No, no, our perfumed Gallants now must look,  
Like to the sons of Valour, smered with smoke,  
Steeled with spirit, armed with best of youth,  
Directly planted 'fore a Cannon's mouth.  
Shake not (my dapper Courtier) though thou hear  
Nought but the voice of thunder every where:  
Or if the noise of arms breed in thee fear,  
(No less than death) go on and stop thine ear?  
Budge not a foot (or if thou fear to kill)  
Wink, and then say, thou murders 'gainst thy will.  
How likest thou this? This is no camp for love,  
Nor must thy wreath be here a Lady's glove,  
Antic and apish fashions will not serve,  
In this ennobled field, such as deserve,  
By a peculiar merit shall receive  
The Guerdon of their Valour, and in Grave  
Shall find a living monument, which men  
Admiring much, shall ever honour them.  
And is not this a nobler monument,  
Then spend our time in fruitless compliments.  
Spend a whole age in making of a leg,  
Or seeking how some office we may beg.  
Trading for undeserved Honour, got  
By servile means, and by the simplest sot,  
That knows not Honour's essence, O may I  
Rather than be so Honoured wish to die  
In the obseurest manner, that when Time  
Shall shroud my ashes in a homely shrine,  
Some earthy urn, yet may my memory  
Live without reach of envy after me.  
Sacred Bellona, valour's choicest Saint,  
For now by thee fly we unto our tent.  
Infuse true resolution in the m●nde  
Of thy professors, that their spirits may find  
What difference there is in honour's sight,  
Twixt a good Soldier and a carpet-Knight.  
His per●ume's powder, and his harmony  
Reports of Cannons, for his bravery,  
Barded with steel and Iron, for the voice,  
Of amorous Ganymedes, the horrid noise  
Of clattering armour, for a downy bed  
The i'll cold ground, for pillow to their head,  
Tincke with musk Roses, Target and their shield,  
For gorgeous Rooms, the purprise of the field,  
For nimble capering, Marching, for the tune  
Of moving consorts, striking up a drum,  
For dainties, hunger; thus is honour fed,  
With labour got, and care continued.  
Can this content my Courtier? yes, it may.  
When his lascivious night and fruitless day,  
His many idle hours employed worse,  
(Though better deemed) then such whose vagrant course  
Incurs a penal censure; shall be passed,  
And he with whip of conscience thoroughly lashed,  
Shall bid a due to Lady vanity  
To Coures applause, to humours fantasy,  
To honours undeserved, to parasites,  
To fashions-brocage, and to all delights.  
Which reap no fruit, no guerdon, nor reward,  
Save care on earth, repentance afterward:  
Where justice oft is forced from her intent.  
Goodness being only cause of punishment.  
Where violence (so strong be great men grown)  
Makes right supprest', and justice overthrown.  
Where sins in cloth of Tissue fair descri'de,  
Make that wise Sages Axiom verifi'de.  
" A great man's foe oft by experience proves,  
" Of all that be, no thunder like to Ioues.  
here Magistrates are clad in violet,  
Because pure justice they do violate.  
Here vice is mounted, virtue lives despised,  
The worst esteemed, the better meanly prized.  
Corruption rides on foot-cloth, (some aver)  
And upright dealing she does lackey her▪  
Honour's afraid of Sergeants, merits sad,  
And lives as one without observance had.  
Wisdom's out of request, for temperance,  
she's never known but in a Moris' dance.  
And purple justice seldom's seen to pass,  
To any Court, but riding one an Ass.  
What then but valour should support the State,  
And make a Realm by vice grown desolate.  
See her own shame, and in her shame conceive,  
The blessed memorial of an happy grave,  
" On then with honour, let the usurer  
Made stiff with plenty, feel the shock of war,  
And tremble, fearing least least should be his lot,  
To lose by war what his oppression got.  
Let the profane contemner of God's power  
Be moved by terror, let the Paramour,  
Glazed with a shameless fore head leave her sin.  
They youthful Prodigal, those nets he's in.  
Let the prodigious state-engrosser feel,  
What harm he as done unto the Commonweal.  
Let ●h'aspiring birth of Dathan see,  
The end of them, and their conspiracy.  
Let all lascivious Minions hence reclaim,  
Their odious lives, and put on robes of shame.  
Let public Haxsters (now the most of all)  
That in their hair, would quarrel for the wall,  
Stand to their Tackle, let both youth and age,  
Show distinct worths in distant Equipage.  
Led on Honora, that in time report,  
May make a Camp Knight gracious in the Court.  
So noblest minds in best of Actions shown,  
May challenge Honour when it is their own.   

Upon the General Sciolists or Poettasters of Britanny. A Satire.  

COme Are●huse come, for near had we,  
At any time a greater need of thee.  
No Laurel now, but Nettle's best to grace  
Our Laureate Po●t▪ see his uncouth face,  
Unapt fo● presie: his strange disguise,  
Only addressed (in Verse) to Temporize:  
Now Parasites prove Poets, and express  
Their oily works: for what is more or less  
Dilated on, is consecrate to men,  
That are the greatest: O what need is then,  
To thee (dear Arthuse) that didst frame,  
A Poet to the nature of his name?  
No time-obseruing smooth faced sycophant,  
No strange conceited Ass whose Element  
Is to insinuate under the shade  
Of a great Mounseyrs' elbow, thou'rt proved jade  
To thy profession, not a saffron band,  
But like a roaring boy, can make thee stand  
And yield observance to him: silly fool,  
That Artless idiots should bring to school,  
The best of Muses, thou that once wast borne,  
Not as our great Actaeon's, to the horn  
Of their dishonour, (being of joy bereft)  
Leaving to others what themselves have left.  
(Worse by degrees than was that Phoebus Car,  
Which Phaeton by rash attempts did mar:  
And clear dissolves) lass see thy Trophies torn,  
Thy statues razed: and that Mount forlorn  
Which first possessed the Muses: now no wreath  
Can be hung up to memorise the death  
Of any great man, why for virtues due,  
Bids every Poet (in his verse) speak true  
Of such as are deceased: its true, who then  
Speaking no more than truth, can praise such men,  
As rather were then lived? being, but not  
In real essence, 'las what fame is got  
By such as write of these (whose only good)  
Is to aver they were of Noble blood.  
But so much disproportioned to their name,  
As what they seemed, they seldom were the same.  
The same; O Noah, their garish ornament,  
Their wanton guise, their lovesick complement,  
Their strange distractions, their deformed state,  
Transformed from English to Italienate,  
Express small comfort to a Poet's pen,  
Which only should delight in showing them  
Unto the world's eye, whose fame succeeds,  
And makes them Noble by Heroic deeds,  
Drawn from the line of Honour: but how far  
Seem Poets in these latter times to err?  
Who write not for respect, or due esteem,  
Had to their own profession, but to gain  
The favour of a great one, this it is,  
Gives privilege to men that do amiss:  
Such be our rank of Poets now adays,  
As they adorn th'Immerited with praise  
Above desert. Hence is it that we bring  
The Art of Poetry to Ballading.  
Hence is it, that the Courtier may intend  
A strange pretended pro●ect for no end,  
Save to augments expense, a suits begun,  
Which makes a silly Farmer quite undone,  
Without all hope of composition: Pass  
That such transgressions should so freely pass,  
Without controlment. Many we have here,  
That can compose their Verse, but in a sphere  
So different to the time, as they descry  
Their want of brains to each judicious eye.  
Yea some I know are Poets in this time  
Who write of swains, might write as well of swine,  
For th'profit of their labours is so small,  
As 'twere far better not to write at all,  
Then to consume such precious time in vain,  
About a fruitless, and desertless strain:  
Better indeed: when in their Maker's sight,  
They must accountants be of what they write,  
Whose eyes be purer, and extension bear,  
Above th'Dimension of a common sphere.  
Yet ●anke I not (as some men do suppose)  
These worthless swains amongst the lays of those  
Time-honoured Shepherds (for they still shall be)  
As well they merit) honoured of me,  
Who bear a part, like honest faithful swains,  
On witty Wither never-withring plains,  
For these (though seeming Shepherds) have deserved,  
To have their names in lasting Marble carved:  
Yea this I know I may be bold to say,  
Thames never had swans that song more sweet than they.  
It's true I may avowed, that near was song,  
Chanted in any age by swains so young,  
With more delight than was performed by them,  
Prettily shadowed in a borrowed name.  
And long may England's Thespian springs be known  
" By lovely Wither and by bonny Browne,  
Whilst solid Seldon, and their Cuddy too,  
Sing what our (Swains of old) could never do.  
Yea I do hope, sith they so well can write,  
Of Shepherds sport, and of the fields delight.  
That when they come to take a view of th'Court,  
(As some have done) and have been mewed up for't,  
They'll tell her freely, (as full well they may)  
That in their judgements, after due survey,  
Of th'Court & th'Cottage, they may well maintain,  
Vices in the Court, but virtues in the Swain;  
And happy be those Authors which do give  
Virtue and vice their titles, they shall live  
In spite of Envy, when such men as teach  
That such be only virtuous as be rich,  
Shall lie interred where fame shall never find them▪  
For such do seldom leave a name behind them▪  
Lass they must die and perish, so must we,  
Nor can we gain aught of eternity:  
Save that we live, Oh then how blest are they  
That spend their life in weighing of their days▪  
But of professants, which compose their song  
To a strange descant! this I'll say they wrong  
Flowery Parnassus, where such used to be,  
As in themselves made one set company.  
These sung not what they knew not, but in Verse,  
What time had taught them they use to rehearse,  
And to reduce it to one perfect form,  
Striving by proper figures to adorn  
Each work, each composition: but lass now  
How far's that alteration? where we know  
Le●t that we write, adding to our estate  
(Begged merely) by a great man's Dedicate.  
here is no substance, but a simple piece  
Of gaudy Rhetoric: Which if it please,  
Yields th'Author dear-contentment: thus we strain  
The Muse's Text for a peculiar gain  
Unto ourselves: hence is it vice abides,  
(And lording-like in silken foot-cloth rides.)  
Hence is it Landlords make their tenants slaves:  
Hence is it waste-goods open their father's graves:  
Hence is it Mammonists adore their gold:  
Hence is't the impious to perdition sold:  
Hence Sacrilege a privilege obtains:  
Hence th'sneaking Lawyer by his Client gains:  
Hence th'Politician, what so ere befall,  
Will to his trade and show a Machivell.  
Hence imposts rise extortions violence▪  
Graced by men that have most eminence.  
Hence Sergeants walk unfronted (though they know it)  
No friend is worse than Sergeant to a Poet.  
Hence painted faces (like ill wine in cask)  
Shroud their deformed complexions under mask▪  
Hence curious Courtiers, gorgeously arrayed,  
Wear more upon their back then ere was paid:  
Hence th'bawdy Pander, servile to his whore,  
And hence the Bawd that keeps the traders door;  
Hence base informers take their borrowed light,  
Living like Owls that use to fly by night:  
Hence wanton Prodigals that spend their state,  
And begin repentance when it is too late.  
Hence young and old, hence each in their degree,  
Challenge to them a due Monopoly.  
O how Miveruas' temple's now disgraced,  
By th'scum of Poetry! she that was placed  
Once like th' Ephesian Queen in a pure shrine  
Of honour and delight, now's forced to pine.  
And languish in her beauty, being depressed,  
By such men most, whom she suspecteth lest.  
Vnpiniond Muses (such as near could fly)  
Further than vnplumed birds now press as high  
As Eagles; which by the Colour you m●y know,  
As eminent and clear as Flaccus Crow:  
These steal selected flowers from others wit,  
And yet protest their nature brooks not it,  
They are (for both) so invented by their art.  
Making their pen the displayer of their heart.  
They brook no Brocage, yet has works in press,  
Which they are guiltless of▪ but this were less,  
Worthy reproof, if in their gleaned lines,  
Like our age Critics they would curb these times  
For petulancy: but so vain be they,  
As they run still in that high beaten way  
Of error, by directing men amiss,  
Penning whole volumes of licentiousness,  
Descanting on my Ladies Rosy lip,  
Her Cinthian eye, her bending front, her trip,  
Her body's motion, ●otion of her time,  
All which they weave up in a bawdy Rhyme.  
For since there's no observance, Accent neither  
(Sith sense and accent seldom go together.)  
O what aspersions do these lay on her,  
Who bears the only native character.  
Of her dear issues merit▪ she I mean,  
Without whose nourishment we had not been,  
She without whose embrace, the solid earth,  
Had quite interred the honour of our birth▪  
She without whom we have no biding place,  
No mansion, no repose: she by whose grace  
We are inhabitants, planted in rest,  
Sucking pure milk out of her tender breast.  
She whose our Guardian governing our state  
Shoring our weakness, arming us against fate,  
Guiding our pathless passage, breathing life  
Into our dullness: mid●ating strife,  
Because (a peaceful mother) chering us  
With folace, when depressed, tricking our Muse,  
With seemly subjects (that whilst shepherds sing)  
Of rural pastimes, midst their sonneting.  
The graver rank might compositions make,  
Not for themselves but for their country's sake:  
Alas poor country; where is all that store  
Of divine wits that thou hast bred before?  
Where is that Quint-essence of poesy,  
That in (fore-times) was wont to breath on thee:  
Like a cool Zephyrus? Hybles pure mount,  
Renowned in former ages and that Fount,  
Of sacred Castalie lie desolate.  
For they with theirs have lost their former state  
Of Greatness: no proportion nor no flower  
Decks, with a daisy Border, that sweet Bower  
Where Cynthia used to revel: but as th'port  
Of housekeeping is now transported to Court,  
" Leaving their Country-houses, which men look  
" And gaze at long ere they can see them smoke:  
So fruitful Hesperie, which used to be  
The Rend you for sacred poesy  
L●uing to be herself, shuts up her door?  
Hence is the bankrupt poet becomed poor:  
Hence is 't he 's forced to write not for the ease  
Of his own mind (but as his Patrons please.)  
Hence be't that errors must be Virtues deemed,  
Because, poor Poet, it's by Fate ordained,  
That if he will not humour, he must starve:  
" For Great-men love not hear what they deserve.  
How jealous be our times of their deserts,  
When they suppress the eminence of arts?  
Making them speechless whereas we do see,  
If persons were disposed as they should be;  
Their sincere conscience (like a brazen wall)  
Might bear them up what ever should befall.  
Then might our Satire mix his ink with gall,  
But with his mixture do no hurt at all.  
Then might our sceptic give his judgement free,  
yet do small harm to men's integrity.  
Then might the Lawyer plead without offence;  
Not fear his Conscience with a fair pretence  
Of doing good, when his corrupted will  
Under pretence of good, acts what is ill.  
Then might the devils Factors live like men,  
That have a god, nor for the hundred ten;  
Receiving with advantage need'd they pay,  
A greater sum at that same latter day,  
When due accounts are had● o usury  
That art the City's scourge, how much ha●e we  
Occasion to proseribe thee from our land,  
Since by thy means have we felt heavens hand  
More heavy and revenging then before,  
Whose wrath has vials ever laid in store  
To punish impious men: it's thou (fowl sin)  
Which hast haled down the infection we have seen  
Rage in this famous I'll: it's thou whose height  
Ha●h turned our day of comfort to a night  
Of gr●at affliction: for who more can be  
Afflicted in himself, then inwardly  
Feeling the worm of Conscience gnawing him  
Torment consorting with that birth of sin  
Wherein he's nurtured: alas poor I'll!  
That thou shouldst foster such as do defile  
Thy once renowned borders with the hate  
Of a supernal power, making thy state  
Pray to oppression, vassalling thy fame  
(Which once was glorious) to thy odious name  
Of misery: Great Albion now is grown  
Poor in herself, because what is her own  
She cannot use but in depraved wise,  
Makes herself subject to all foreign eyes  
As vices spectacle: o that the bliss  
Which we enjoy by minds Synderysis  
Th' refined part of man, should soiled be  
By th'worst of ills the stain of usury?  
And who'll inveigh against it, few or none,  
For miser Nature hardly leaves us one,  
That can securely speak against this ill  
So general is the poison of our will:  
For (dear Parnassus now is so oppressed)  
It dare not speak for fear that interest,  
Should be demanded by the Usurer  
To whom it stands engaged: this is the fate  
That Poets have, to leave more wit than state  
To their posterity: o impious time!  
When worst of Fortune follows wits divine;  
When noble actions motive in their spirit,  
Can leave nought to their Issue to inherit:  
Save their poor father's papers, monuments  
Scarce worth respect: how weakes the Element  
Which Poets are composed of, when one frown  
Sent from a great man's visage can keep down  
Their best invention? silly poesy,  
That (though free borne, art forced to slavery,  
And undeserved subjection: pity it is,  
That best of merit should shut up her wish;  
And due expectance in no other book●,  
Save in a skrewed face or a writhed look;  
Unfit to entertain an Art divine  
Which is expressed in that poor Muse of thine.  
Come, come, great regent of that sacred choir,  
Come in thyself and so our souls inspire  
With Art's Elixir and with spirit toe,  
That we may do with boldness what we do:  
Erect our aged fortunes make them shine  
(Not like the fool in's foot-cloth) but like Time,  
Adorned with true experiments which may  
Convert our odious night to glorious day.  
Let not Ambition mounted in her state  
Pass uncontrolled: care not for getting hate:  
" For honest minds are best approved still,  
" By gaining hate in curbing what is ill.  

* Truncoque Simillimus Heros. I●uenal.  Let n●t these painted blocks of Juvenal,  
Which for their clothes are most admired of all  
Stand unreproved: let not their dangling plume  
So daunt thee, as thou dare not well presume  
To blazon their defects, speak what thou seest  
And care not who be pleased, or who displeased▪  
Let not motheaten Avarice appear  
In this dear I'll, without her Character:  
Lash me the Symonist, who though precise  
In show, can geld his Parson's Benefice.  
●all me (our graine-engrossers) moulds of th'earth,  
That in their plenty laugh at others dearth.  
Rouse me the Atheist, let's security  
Hear th'judgement of supernal majesty  
Thundering against him: let th'lascivious  
Know their bed-broking sin, how odious  
Their sensual meetings are to his pure eyes,  
Who even the secrets of our hearts espies,  
Searching our reins, examining our hearts,  
Discussing each intention (and all parts)  
That ha●e a working faculty: Even he  
That well approves of moral poesy,  
He that confirms the motions of our mind▪  
And breath's upon them if to good inclined.  
Let not sin-tempting wanton Meremaids rest  
Without due censure, who with naked breast,  
Attractive eye, and garish Complement  
Ensnare our fond unwary Innocent:  
These are those Babel public prostitutes,  
Lures to damnation, Roman Catamites,  
Inuentresses of pleasures, pensive still  
To do what's good, but frolic to do ill.  
O London how thy Vanity abounds,  
Glorying in that which thy renown confounds.  
Traduced fashions from the Dutch to French,  
From French to Spanish, and not longer since,  
Then yesterday, blush at thy sin for shame,  
That Albion (by thy means) should ●ose her name,  
And habit too: see, see, how far thou'rt gone,  
Beyond thyself, that therer's no fashion known,  
In foreign Courts, deformed howsoe'er it be,  
But by transportance it doth come to thee.  
Lass how immodest art thou to express,  
Thyself so much by others fashions less?  
How strangely Metamorphized to partake,  
For angels form, the most deformed shape,  
That Countries can bring out: o pity 'tis  
That Albion's much admired Metropolis,  
Should make those which admired her now to hate  
Her vain condition (introduced by state  
Too plentiful: Here you Hesperian wits  
May you have subject more than well befits  
A modest pen: for near was any time  
More prone to ill: no Region, country, clime,  
Province, Isle, Regiment so truly blest  
With all earth's bounties, yet hath less expressed,  
Of gratitude: here Satirists resort,  
And make an ample comment on the Court,  
Where thou shalt write, som's wanton, others vain,  
Ambitious some, others do covet gain  
By servile means: some beggars yet who dar●  
Writ in these days that any such there are.  
Then (my sharp toothed Satire) frame thy ditty  
In the same form, unrip the Crimes of'th City  
With a stern brow: tell the purple Magistrate,  
How he has raised himself to great estate  
By others ruin: such as Mercers are,  
Tell them dark shops have got away ill ware.  
Such as be Goldsmiths, and are dangerous,  
Call them the Siluer-smith of Ephesus.  
Long live Diana, but no longer then  
By their Diana they do reap a gain.  
Such as be Brokers, tell them their profession,  
Is not to be a knave o'th' first edition.  
But as those garments which are brought to them,  
Use to be worn before by other men:  
Even so they broke their vices and receive  
Some crimes wrapped up i'th' garment which they have.  
Tell them of Wapping, bid them thankful be,  
That there is justice had for piracy:  
For if that were not (it may well be said)  
Many their shops would be unfurnished,  
But in the Country now my Muse shall be,  
For brook she'll not a Broker's Company.  
Here shalt thou see th'picture of Avarice,  
Thin-cheeked, raw-boned, faint-breath, and hollow-eyed.  
Nose-dropping, rh●wme-destilling, drivelling mouth  
Hand-shaking, hair down-falling, th●misers cough,  
Legs gouty, knees unwieldy, hand on cruch,  
Eyes in his bosom, gazing on his pouch,  
His labour torment, rest he cannot take,  
When all are sleeping, he is forced to wake:  
His Eyes are ever open, for riches keep  
His eyes unclosed: The miser cannot sleep.  
He's his own anguish, such an impious elf,  
That's ill to all, but worst unto himself.  
He has not books whereon to meditate,  
Only a debt book and an Alminake.  
The one's for forfeitures, where he will poor,  
And day by day travers them over and over:  
Th'o●her's his Interlude that yields him mirth,  
Seeing predictions of the next years dearth.  
Hope of a dearer Summer than last was  
Unseasoned harvest: O these hopes surpass  
All others, here the Miser sets his eye,  
And when he does these strange prenotions spy,  
He kisses th'book, swears the profession's rare,  
And wishes all he reads such subjects were.  
This Cormorant engrosseth all his grain,  
Makes his barns greater by a secret train  
Brings over his neighbour's son to set his hand,  
Unto a sale, and so joins land to land.  
This wicked ulcer that corrupts the state,  
Near thinks of death, till that it be too la●e.  
His gold's his God, yet use it cannot he,  
But in expression of his misery▪  
Which puts the poor Miser to a double pain.  
By telling it and puttinged up again.  
But now (my nimble Satire) for to thee  
Tends this impolish piece of poesy:  
How wilt thou tax, or where wilt thou begin  
With thy tart phrase, to sting and nettle him?  
Thou must be bitter (for in greatest grieves)  
And festered wounds we use no lenitives  
To mollify, but corrasives to gall:  
And of all griefs this is the great'st of all.  
By it we are degenerate and live,  
As such as can receive, but cannot give  
To Nature competence: Come my dear Mate  
I'll tell thee how to cure their desperate state;  
Which in few words lest that thy memory fail,  
I'll speak my mind unto thee in a tale.  
It chanced upon a time (and well might be  
For such like chances fall-on misery,)  
A pinchgut Miser fell extremely sick,  
So▪ as at last his Conscience 'gan to prick,  
And tell him of's oppression, wheresoe'er  
He turned his eyes, he saw damnation there.  
Sleep could he not, his sickness was too great,  
Nor hope for aught, his conscience did so threat  
And terrify his soul: thus lay this wretch  
Poor in his spirit, though to the world rich;  
Feign would he oft desire himself confessed.  
But cause he was fallen out with Parish priest  
About a Tith-pigge, he deferred the time,  
And would in no case suffer this Divine  
To minister due comfort to his s●ate  
All woe● begun: so great was th' Misers ha●e▪  
For though he were afflicted, yet would he  
Upbraid the Parson full irreverently,  
Calling him hedge priest, belly-god (nay ●or●)  
That like a Thief, he came not in at door,  
But in at window to his Benefice;  
And that he knew the practice and device  
Of him and's Patron: who that th' law might 〈◊〉  
Dispensed with in case of Simony,  
Sold him a horse (that whatsoe'er should fa●●,)  
The price might pay for th' Benefice and all▪  
This would he say, concluding merrily,  
Sir Priest you come more for my pig then me▪  
Silent the Parson was, for well he knew,  
The Miser spoke no more than what was true▪  
Only he wished such neighbours as he had  
Present to pray for him, for he was mad,  
And that by all appearance it was like  
That his disease had made him lunatics  
Thus every day his sickness did increase▪  
Bere●t of comfort, conscience sweetest peace  
Without all hope of health or here or there,  
(For th'worm of conscience follows every where.)  
There's no evasion left: where ere we go  
She will attend us in our weal and woe.  
You heard confessed he would, by as 'tis true.  
A miser loves not him that craves his due:  
So to such men this censure stands for just,  
They love their Conscience rest less than their ru●t.  
What should he do? the Pardon now is gone,  
And he unto himself is left alone  
T'expostulate with death: his sins did grieve hi●  
But now the most when all his friends do leave him▪  
Torment below, judgement he sees above,  
Witness within him, that will duly prove  
What he has done on earth (thus all in one  
Make up a consort in his dying moan:  
Yet as a ship o'erburdened with her freight  
Sinking before, sails bravely, being made light;  
Or as the Ocean beats from shelf to shelf,  
(seasick god-wot) till she hath purged herself.  
So this sur-charged soul rowl's here and there,  
And yet to comfort is no whit the near,  
Till that same la●tage of corruption be  
Exempted quite: then sleeps she quietly.  
Confess he must, but to no Priest, that's vain:  
But unto one clear of another strain;  
Shall I tell Satire? yes, thou needs must know it,  
And this he was; a threadbare neighbouring Poet:  
Who after due confession made to him  
Of every act, and each peculiar ●inne,  
Extortion, Violence and Injury,  
Pressing of Orphans, biting usury,  
Forfeitures taken, forged bills, at last  
He makes confession how a Poet past  
His pikes: who once was of a fair estate,  
But after had no prospect but a grate:  
O, quoth the Poet, that was ill in you;  
O (quoth the Miser) I do know its true:  
But with remorse I now lament his fall.  
Which amongst the rest afflicts me most of all.  
Wherefore good Sir, pour out your prayers for me,  
That in distaste of my impiety  
Languishing sore, I may be cheered in state,  
Dying in hope, that now lies desperate.  
The fair conditio'nd Poet, though he had heard  
How ill his own profession got reward,  
By this hard-hearted Miser; yet did he  
Scorn his revenge should in affliction be:  
Straight he retires himself a pretty space,  
Choosing for's Orisons a private place,  
Which being done, to cheer the drooping man,  
With hands heaved up, his prayers he thus began.   

Powerful jehovah, King of Heaven and Earth,  
That giv'st to all things living life and b●rth.  
Thou that protects each thing which thou hast made,  
And so preseru's it▪ as it cannot fade.  
Before the time prefined: thou that wilt have  
Mercy on such as thou dost mean to save.  
Look in this wretch (that lies all woe begon)  
If so thou think he's worthy looking on:  
Great is thy mercy, so it needs must be,  
If thou wilt save such Miser●ants as he.  
But what thou means to do, he fain would know,  
Whether he must ascend, or fall below:  
That he provision may according make,  
And fit himself for th'Voyage he must take.  
For if to heaven, he needs the less prepare,  
Because he knows all needful things be there.  
But much he feared, and so fear other some,  
'mongst which myself, that there be near shall come,  
But if to hell (the likelier place o'th' two)  
He does desire, that thou wouldst this allow.  
He may have so much respite as prepare,  
The Bonds of all such Prodigals be there:  
That what he could not cancel here so well  
On earth, may there be canceled in hell.  
The cause is this (as it to me appears)  
Lest that those spendthrifts fall about his ears,  
When they shall see him, which that he may stay,  
He'll cancel th' Bonds, though't be long after day  
Or this's the cause as he was impious here,  
He means to prove an honest Devil there.  
" That Time to Times-successors may bring forth,  
" Hell made him better than he was on Earth.   

Much more he prayed, but I do rather choose,  
(Satire) to make of all his prayers an use,  
That when the use shall well expressed be,  
Thou mayst apply the Benefit to thee.  
Sir [quoth the Poet] I my prayers have made,  
Have you, (replied he,) as one dismayed,  
Yes sir, and by them so my zeal enforced,  
As I prevailed, though it was long time first,  
For know an apparition came to me  
With a shrill voice, which bade me say to thee.  
If thou wile first a restitution make,  
And render up what thou by Fraud didst take,  
From any man, but chiefly what thou took  
From th'Poet: next, deliver up thy book  
Of all Accounts, great'st cause of thy despair,  
To thy Confessor, and make him thy heir.  
Thou shalt have health for this, it bade me tell,  
But if thou wilt not, thou art marked for hell.  
For Hell, no marry I● take keys and state,  
I will not buy wealth at so dear a rate.  
If thou my pretty Satire couldst reclaim,  
A miser thus, I'd thank thee for the same.  
But all too long I have enforced thee stay.  
Vice calleth thee, and Time draws me away.    

An Epigram called the Civil Devil.  
IT chanced one evening as I went abroad,  
To cheer my cares, and take away my loads,  
Of disagreeing passions, which were bred  
By the distemper of a troubled head,  
Midst of my walk, spying an Ally door,  
(Which I protest I never spied before)  
I entered in, and being entered in,  
I found the entry was to th'house of sin.  
Yet much I wondered, how sin there could be.  
Where th'sins protectress showed most modest●▪  
A civil matron, lisping with sorsooth,  
As one that had not heart to swear an oath,  
In Grave attire, French hood, all Frencheside,  
For she had something more of French beside,  
Her outward raiment in a loose-gowne made.  
Right after fashion, with a countenance stayed,  
And which is stranger (shamefast) her jaboord  
(Like a young novice lecher) making each word  
A protestation; she that knew'th device,  
T'ensnare a green wit, seemed wondrous ●i●e,  
Reproving of my error▪ Sir, I am  
(For thus she took me up) wife to a man  
Of due respect, one that has office borne,  
Twice in the City, therefore pray forbear,  
You do mistake yourself, there's none such here  
As you make sure for. I as one dismayed,  
That durst not justify what I had said,  
Began to slink away; she seeing this,  
Fearing lest she should such a Gudgeon miss.  
Recants what she had said, swearing though she  
Were such a man's wife of the Marshalsea,  
One that had never yet incurred ill name,  
Or knew aught more than modesty or shame▪  
Though she near was defamed in all her life▪  
Or loved more than as becomed a wife,  
Though her affection never yet was shown  
(Save to her husband) unto any one,  
Though she was grave in years, and therefore might  
Tread rightly now, that had so long trod right,  
She would pawn name, fame, modesty, and all  
Affection, husband, yea what ere befall  
Her graver years should once dispense with time▪  
" She would, forsooth, remain entirely mine,  
This alteration made me strangely doubt▪  
And though my feet were in, my mind was out.  
Yet so was I embralld by tempting sin,  
Though Virtue forced me out, Vice kept me in.  
That did my tempting Genius, swear, protest,  
That of all creatures she did love me best,  
And with dissembling tears disguise her ill,  
Fond is that man, and fonder is his will,  
That's thus depraved: how servile are men grown.  
When these same Virtues we esteem our own  
Are thus Eclipsed by Hyene faced whores,  
That protestation make they will be ours,  
When they prove nothing less, 'las I do know  
And by experience, whatsoe'er they show.  
Their painted●Vizards cover naked sin,  
Which seeming fair, are ever foul within.  
A whiten wall, a rotten odious tomb,  
That prostitutes herself to all that come.  
To all that come, hence then's affection crossed,  
For love is pure, but lust for them bid most.  
But to my Saintlike Devil: she thus precise  
At first held credit dear, but now her eyes  
Like wandering stars priest to induce some sin  
Makes me (the silly fish) catched by her gin.  
Reason did tell me, and suggest her name,  
Whispering me in the ear, it was a shame  
To gauge my reputation to a whore:  
But 'las who knows it not, sense hath more power  
Than reason in these acts: I gave consent  
To her inducements, thought her Innocent,  
And a right modest matron: yet how far,  
Did sense from reason in her Verdict err?  
For how could she be modest that so soon,  
Was gained ere craved, so quickly wood and worm?  
Lass that my simple strain should be so weak,  
As to continue for a wantoness sake,  
So firm in my affection? she was grave,  
It's true, she was so: but how many have  
That form of gravity, the more their sin,  
Being so grave without, so gay within,  
But she protested; true, she swore an oath,  
As any other tempting wanton doth,  
When she's in hope of gain, unhappy I,  
To lean so much to harlot's forgery.  
Well my brave Courtesan, since I am won,  
To do that act by which I am undone.  
Since I am snared, and like a Bird that's caught,  
Fledged in bird-lime, am of wit distraught,  
And senses too: I will run headlong to it,  
And do it with force, since I perforce must do it.  
Down goes the silken Carpet all the while,  
Showing those sheets, which lovers do be guile,  
Those sheets of lust perfumed deliciously,  
With rosy odours, where variety  
Of objects made recourse: see wantoness see,  
How many motives now environ me?  
here my lascivions Matron woos with tears,  
There a repose for lust's retreat appears.  
here a protesting whore (see whoredoms shelf)  
Rather than lose me, she will dam herself.  
There Adonis' picture, clipping Venus round,  
Here jove Europa lying on the ground.  
here Mars disarmed in Beauty's chariot drawn,  
Where fair Eryca covered over with lawn,  
Bids him her best of welcome, and is led,  
For want of rooms unto her Husband's bed.  
here Dan●e stood (admiring divine power)  
Which did descend like to a golden shower,  
Into her Virgin-lap, there strait I spied  
The tempting Omphale, and on one side,  
Her wanton sister, on the other, fair  
Alcinous daughter, courted for her hair  
By great Apollo: but below her foot,  
Sat H●rcles spinning, she enjoind him to't.  
Here I beheld the nimble satires dance  
The Druids sung, the water-Sea-nimphs prance,  
o'er the delicious Mede: there was the Queen  
Of Amorous meetings pictured as she'd been  
Taking a greene-gowne (many such there are)  
Of Mars that Martial Engineer of war.  
here Vulcan lay, poor Cuckold as he was,  
And saw them mating on the greeny grass,  
Yet durst say nought, how many such there be,  
That see enough, but dare not say they see?  
Sweet heart (quoth she) and smiled, seeing me eye  
This picture more than any one was nigh,  
Leave me the shadow, to the substance go,  
What thou now seest, let lovers action know,  
I'll be thy Venus, pretty Duck I will,  
And though less fair, yet I have far more skill,  
In loves affairs: for if I Adonis had,  
As Venus had: I could have taught the lad.  
To have been far more forward than he was▪  
And not have dallied with so apt a lass.  
Come, come (my youngling) though I near could be  
Immodest yet, I'll s●ow myself to thee,  
A lass of metal: Come, in faith thou shalt,  
Thoured Mars, I Venus, he that limping halt,  
My V●lean-husband, pox on't he is gone,  
And I myself as desolate alone,  
Will entertain thee: I in manlike shape,  
Being a man, a man should imitate.  
Protested I would do, yet had no power,  
For who can deal so ably with a whore,  
Or with so free-bred actions, since I know,  
None can affection with election show,  
Sincerely or entirely, but whose strife,  
S'transformed from wanton action to a wife  
Of modest action: this is she can do,  
And every night has new conceits to woo,  
Though she be won, 'las what is wooing then,  
Since wooing, winning, be small change in men?  
Who knows not whores affection purchased soon.  
And that they are not sooner wooed then won?  
Or as the world goes, for its more common,  
Women woe men more oft then men woe women.  
Hence nature seems to have transformed us quite,  
Converting day unto a dreary night,  
Virtue to vice, a good-names eminence,  
Exposed to shame, and public impudence.  
Once women knew a blushing shamefastness,  
But now a blush is least that they express;  
Unless for shame of having done some ill  
They fear is known, which they would shadow still,  
Shine brightest heaven (if thou wilt deign to shine.  
And with thy beams dispel this hideous crime,  
Which now (protection has): curb them, that call  
Such sins as venial, Venereal.  
Let not an I'll of an Angelic name  
Expose her glory to the house of shame:  
Let not those many Trophies of her worth  
Lose their renown or honour in our birth.  
Let not fair Albion, styled from cliffs so white,  
Change virtues daystar to a vicious night.  
Let not those many conquests she hath got  
Seem now depressed, as if remembered not.  
Let not our peace (like halcyon days) be ta'en  
From us and ours and given to other men:  
Let not this sacred Vine which planted is  
In Albion, shaken be by wantonness.  
Let not our plenty and abundant store  
Occasion be that we should sin the more:  
Let not our Realm unite, divide that love  
Which we should bear unto the King above:  
Let not our want of wars invasion bring us  
A lustful war encountering within us.  
Let not those many blessings we receive,  
Make us inter our honour in our grave▪  
Let not our seasons yearly fruitfulness  
Produce in us a loathed barrannesse.  
Let not those many strange conspiracies  
Which heaven prevented, close our thankless eyes.  
Let not our being make us not to be,  
For God is God and will avenged be.  
He seems some time to sleep and suffer all▪  
But calls at last for use and principal.  
Many, I know, there be of crimes that's ill,  
Drawn from the source of our depraved will.  
But of all crimes that ever were or be,  
None in this I'll claims more impunity.  
A purple sin (for who will not allow it)  
Since purple-fathers' oft-times go▪ unto it?  
The cities Elders (which though they reprove)  
They do but chastise what themselves do love.  
Statists have loved it too: but mark (my friend)  
For all their state they had a loathsome end,  
Like stinking Herod, loathed Hertogenes,  
Crooked Damocles, lousy Pherecides;  
All these experience had of this fowl evil.  
And could describe too-well a civil Devil.   

The Author's Moral to his Civil Devil.  
COme Novice, come, see here the fall of youth,  
Begun in pleasure, but woven up in ruth:  
See what occurrents meet the heirs of shame,  
Where end is poverty, and closed ill-name?  
See what the fruits be of licentious sin  
That end in woe as they in heat begin?  
See painted Sodom-apples fair to th'eye,  
But being touched they perish instantly.  
See, see a wanton Meremayd, that does sing,  
To bring youths crazy back to ruining.  
See Virtue in pretence, but vice in deed.  
See Harlot's action in a Matron's weed:  
See damned Factors who their traffic make,  
Not for their soul but for the devils sake.  
See my coached Lady hurried long the street,  
Casting her lusts-eyes on whosoever she mee●▪  
See, see her cerus cheek, made to delight  
Her apple-squire, or wanton Marmosite.  
See, see her braided hair, her paps laid out,  
Which witness how she'll do when she's put to 't,  
O see she likes upon th'condition well,  
So she may coached be she'll go to hell,  
And willingly: see▪ see adulterate gold,  
In value worst, yet is the dearest sold.  
See Albion's curse, Youth's gulf, Heirs misery,  
Our Country's shame, souls stain earth's vanity.  
O Sun reflect thy gold on my pale Moon,  
And let this Dathans branch be rooted soon,  
Out of this flowery isle: O let not this  
(So hideous a crime) eclipse the bliss  
Which Britain now possesseth, may my pen,  
Be steeped now in wormwood, that such men  
As have beene'erst delighted, now may be,  
Waned from that land-oppressing misery.  
And you (damned prostitutes) that pawn your name,  
Making a trivial may-game of your shame;  
Bed-broaking lechers, Brokers of ill ware,  
For many such base factors now there are)  
Hear me spit out my malice: May you live,  
Till you have nought to take, nor none to give,  
For your ore-iaded pleasure: may you stand  
Banished for ever in this Fruitful land,  
Which fares the worse (and that by heavens high power)  
For giving harbour to an odious whore.  
May you detested live, intestate die,  
And as I doubt not make your Tragedy  
By death more woeful: may your ulcerous skin,  
As it bears here the marks of your fowl sin:  
Like to the jews as they did erst appear,  
Who in their foreparts circumcised were)  
Be circumcised: that after times may show,  
There was small difference twixt the whore and jewe.  
And you poor hair brained youths that do begin  
To nestle in these loathsome sinks of sin;  
You that spend substance, heritance and all,  
Becoming subject to a doubtful fall:  
You that are sent to practise studious arts,  
But leaving them, betake to worse parts  
Your vnfledged fancies: hear me, and you'll say,  
It seems he wished us well another day.  
Fly the strange woman, let her wanton look,  
Be unto you as some experientst book;  
Prescribing cures for strange diseases be  
As if you did not note, or did not see  
Her sin-alluring motives: if she smile  
Construe it thus: this wanton would beguile  
With her affected seeming, if she play  
With her light capering foot, or bid you stay  
(So brazen faced is sin) away from thence.  
Tax, but affect not, her loathed impudence.  
If she show modesty (as well she may)  
For whores have change of faces every day  
Vicing new fashions: you may construe thus,  
It is a painted but no native blush.  
If she protest (believe not what she saith))  
For there's no whore but can dispense with faith:  
If she invite you to some dainty feast  
Be not entreated, least like Circe's beast,  
You be transformed from that same form divine  
Unto the bestial nature of a swine,  
If she allure thee to some wanton sport  
In that she moves you to it, care not fort  
Let St. foot be (such folly's lust afford)  
" For fairest play is ever above board.  
Redart not eyes with her: if she look red  
Say its her guilt, if pale distempored  
With some lascivious passion: if conceit  
Be pregnant in her, swear its but deceit  
To draw thee on: if sullen, it may be thought  
Her weight of sin has that distraction wrought.  
If she discourse, it's but some whorish tale  
That she perchance has purchas't by retail;  
If silent, 't may be thought she's plotting ill,  
And that's the cause her oily tongue is still:  
If seeming modest, virtuous or precise,  
It's her dissembling, making her lust's eyes  
Like Basilisks (who naturally have  
Desire to kill, where they do seem to save.)  
If hope of means: fie, let no Generous mind,  
Stoop to so base a lure, as be inclined,  
To buy a stipend at so dear a rate,  
" As gauge a soul, to get a little state.  
If discontent: this is no remedy  
Unto thy grief, but adds to misery:  
For who (through discontent) goes to a Whore,  
Must needs be more dejected then before.  
If an enforced marriage (as who can)  
Taste still the sweet of comforts, being man:  
This is no way to ease thy troubled head,  
To make thyself adulterize thy Bed.  
If to spend time: how ill is that spent time,  
Which adds unto that great account of thine  
Thousands of accusations? where thy look  
Shall bear record (if wanton) in that book,  
Where all our actions duly written be  
From youth to man, to Age from infancy:  
If for acquaintance (as oftimes we hear)  
The greatest men are most acquainted there;  
Thou seeks amiss, for what's acquaintance worth,  
By birth borne great, to bastardise their birth.  
If to observe new fashions, tricks not known  
Before of thee: 'las those must needs be grown  
Quite out of fashion, when there's none that use them  
Save Panders, Bawds, & whoors that still abuse them.  
If to be deemed a Turnbull roaring lad▪  
Of all the strains that be there's none so bad:  
" These glory in deformed shapes, and thirst  
After that guise which doth beseem them worst:  
But wouldst thou know them? then attend to me,  
(And I in few words will describe them thee.  
Their peaked mouchatoes bodkin wise oppose  
Each other, and stand braving of their nose:  
They're blustering boys, and whatsoe'er befall,  
If they be three to one they'll have the wall.  
They have a mint of oaths, yet when they swear,  
Of death and murder, there's small danger there:  
Buffe-yerkins say their soldiers, (but's not so,)  
For they were priest indeed but durst not go.  
They wear a Cutlers-shop ever about them:  
Yet for all that we need not greatly doubt them.  
For take't from me by this you soonest may know them,  
They wear the desperat'st blades, yet dare not draw them.  
They're Panders by profession, men that get  
A slavish means out of a servile wit:  
They're ever soaking of a pipe, whose smoke  
Makes them contort & wreathe their wainskot look  
To every fashion, they are monstrous proud,  
And whatsoever they speak they swear its good:  
They never go to Church, unless it be  
To man their whore, or for formality.  
They are and are not: seeming men by sight,  
But beasts, becoming slaves to appetite:  
Their walk is not where Virtue hath recourse,  
(For to discourse of Virtue is a curse)  
To Roring-boyes: their Rende-voue's Tibb Calls  
Her shroud their shrine, their walk's in Garden-allies  
Dost see these (youngling)? pray thee see and mark,  
A whore enticing, and a godless shark  
Attending her, have a good eye to him,  
Pray thee beware he's instrument of sin:  
Go not along, let my advise enforce,  
Lest thou return (my boy) by weeping cross.  
Let not, o let not moment of delight,  
Deprive thy soul of her internal light,  
Shame not thy eye of reason with expense  
Of ill spent time, exposed to th'use of sense.  
Thy form's Divine, no fading, vading flower:  
O let not then th'embraces of a whore  
Captive thy judgement, but as thou dost take  
Thy Great Creator's form, so for his sake,  
Reserve thy Temple (if thou ' le live with him,  
To be for Zion, not for place of sin.   

The occasion of this Epigram proceeded from the restraint of the Author, who in the justness of his cause (like Zenophons' Sparrow) fled for refuge: to the worthily esteemed, the Right Worshipful RICH. HUTTON, Sergeant at Law: to whose protection the retired Author commends his Epigram entitled. HIS CATCH.  

Singing my catch, if you be not my friend,  
For all my catch, I shall be catched ith'end.   

NOt in a durance suit remain I here,  
Yet in a suit like durance hemmed with fear  
Retired I am: confinement makes me thrall  
Unto myself, which grieves me most of all:  
If I but see the shadow of a man,  
Or th'tinkling of a Braziers copper pan,  
I fear a Sergeant, shadow says its he,  
And th'Brazier says, such like his buttons be.  
Where shall I fly to? 'las I know not where:  
For Milford-lane is grown too monstrous dear.  
No, there I must not go; for know you how  
That place is styled? The Gallants Rand●-uou.  
Well, somewhere I must fly: O now I see't:  
Philosophers say; heat is expelled by heat.  
Moisture by moisture; Colds extremity  
By cold, derived from passions natively  
Concurring in us: if this than be true,  
Who should I fly to (Sir?) but unto you  
That are a Sergeant, and has power to place  
Your Godson free from any Sergeants Mace?  
To you i'll fly pursued by impudence,  
(A Courtier's garb) craving safe residence  
Under your wings: and know (kind Sir) from me,  
To do for Orphans its a charity.  
Little I am possessed of well you know,  
And of that little, little do I owe  
To any man: yet for all this am I,  
Made a fit object for a Sergeant's eye.  
I could not beg if that my cause were bad,  
But to disburse for that I never had.  
Nor any for me, 'las it seems to me,  
The cause might plead itself without a fee.  
Pray Sir (at least) if'th Courtier needs will crave it.  
Let him pursue such, where ' has hope to have it:  
For me there's none: but this his wit God wot  
To sue his bond, where's nothing to be go.  
Yet for the reputation which I bear  
To my unblemished credit, I must fear  
Not our just cause, nor any such pretence,  
But brazen-face, and guilded conscience.  
" For dangers felt are worse than others feared,  
" Which makes me now concealed which once appeared.  
'Las Sir, my studies cannot brook restraint,  
" Since times observance gives me argument.  
Of writing what I write: so smal's the store  
Of Là'er I have, that if I knew not more  
By observation, then by reading, men  
Might justly say, I knew not what I pen.  
But justice whose pure eye looks ever right,  
And can admit of none that clouds her sight,  
Will shield my cause: its trues I know she will,  
Yet in mean time I am beleaguered still,  
With th●se injurious burrs, these tenterhooks,  
That even affright me with their ghastly looks.  
These engines of despair, agents of evil,  
Factors for Mammon, Viceroys for the devil  
These that lay hold like bird lime: these be they,  
That must be sound bribed, or we must pay;  
I have no hope then but your virtuous self  
To save my crazy vessel from this shelf,  
Or shipwreck rather, and so sure am I  
Of your best help, that I see safety  
Appearing midst of danger: for my trust  
So well reposed in one that is so just,  
Cannot be frustrate, but must needs receive  
What you may grant, and I may justly have.  
And well I know that actions of this kind,  
Keep best concordance with your generous mind,  
Whose native virtues have been still expressed,  
In giving breath to causes that are best.  
A great prerogative, as't seems to me,  
Have you o'er such as only take their fee,  
Witthout observance or discussion had,  
Of what the cause is: whether good or bad.  
These like to spiders, weave o'er justice throne  
A web, to make their actions lie unknown,  
But all in vain: their vices time descries:  
For time has many ears and many eyes.  
Ripe was his wit, and well he understood,  
Who roused 
i Rufus finishing the stately building of Westminster hall, found fault for being built too little, saying it was sitter for a chamber, than a Hall for a King of England; taking a plot for one more spacious to be added unto it.  Westminster Hal with Irish wood.  
That justice there professed ', should like appear,  
Suffering no venomous creature to come near  
Her sacred throne: no 
k This peculiar virtue the superstitious Irish have ascribed to the power of Saint Patrick.  Spider, worm, nor moth,  
But that like virtue should accrue to both.  
Which makes me muse: sith Irish wood can show,  
Such pure effects, why Ireland does not see,  
O no it were too much to be the same,  
In title, temper nature, and in name.  
But whit her wanders my confined Muse?  
Lament thine own, care not for times ab●se,  
It yields thee matter ro express thy spleen,  
Which otherwise would be extinguished clean.  
Thou may'st retire, there's one will see thee placed  
In safe repose, till all these storms be passed:  
Which passed, may I my cunning quite forget,  
If better numbers do not defcant it.   

From me and mine  
to you and yours,  
From time to time  
our prayers like showers  
Diffused be  
incessantly.   
Your worth's obserue● R.B. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   

TO MY APPROVED FRIEND T. P. in the conduct of my arrest-fearing Epigram his best of Wishes.  
IF any Sergeant should my lines forestale,  
Before they see my Patron enter bail.  
Ibid.— Where say,—  
How Night by Night in several rooms I lie,  
And that my lines have far more Aer then I.   

An Epigram called the Honest Lawyer.  
SPrightly my muse, speak like the son of thunder  
And with a full mouth, ring out Albion's wonder:  
No Sussex Dragon, no Virginian,  
But of a Lawer thats an Honest man.  
Whose definition if you wish to know,  
Is a black Swan, fair Moor, or milk-white Crow.  
He takes no fees, till he conceive the cause,  
Nor with an Oily bribe anoints his jaws.  
He wants the use of feeling, fears heavens curse,  
Strings not his conscience with his Client's purse.  
Hee'● not be tongue-tied, but for justice sake,  
He seeks to earn the money he does take.  
He hates equivocation and delay,  
Nor will he make his Threadbare Client stay  
For his dispatch: he will not have his fee,  
Till he discuss the causes equity.  
His judgement will not vail to wind nor wether,  
Nor is his conscience made of retching leather.  
His eye's on justice, nor will ever he  
Bankrupt his soul, t' enrich posterity.  
His tongue's no time-observer, made to please,  
His fist is shut from taking double fees.  
He will not forge a lie, nor wrest the sense,  
Of law or right, for any fair pretence.  
He will not back his Client, or maintain  
An unjust suit, to reap a private gain.  
He speaks and stands to't, nor is sorry for't,  
Though he by speaking truth, incense the Court.  
He hates corruption, nor has ever sold,  
His peace of Conscience, for a piece of gold  
He loves no perfumes, nor is one of those,  
Whose peaked mouchatoes skirmish with their nose.  
His beard's not starched, he has no subtle sconce,  
Nor janus-like looks he ten ways at once.  
His Ear is never shut to poor men's moans,  
His Coach-wheel is not made of Clients bones,  
His Conscience near did aught that needs relenting  
Or 
e 
For my pretty tooth-picker, the Critic Lawyer, who stands on the puntylio of his honour, I am by Marshal's means provided of armour. 505. Epig.  
Carpere causi dicus fertur mea càrmina qui sit  
Nescio, sisciero ve tibi causidice.   ere made Clients pay for his wives painting.  
His soul was never soiled by corrupt dealing,  
Nor stands he on a velvet gown at sealing.  
His face was near at Braziers, nor his skin  
Sy-sambris-like was hung up to be seen.  
His tongue speaks truth, makes peace where ere he can.  
This Lawer must be needs an honest man.  
It's true, he must: but where now shall we find  
This man: I fear there's none left of his kind.  
Yes one I know, and more there be no doubt  
But that my dull pate cannot find them out,  
Who's truly honest: Whom you may discern,  
You Clients you, that visit this throng Term,  
By no example in our Albion more,  
Then by my Patron in my Catch before.  
Ask you me why? Experience tells it me,  
" None of's Profession honester than he.   

Upon a Patron, who was at home, and yet abroad: in the City, and yet in the Country: seen, and not to be seen: in any place, but where he was, and as soon to be found where he was not, as where he was.  
A good Patron's Anagram: is Patren. Anag. Parent. An evil ones Patron. Anag. Ropeaned. A Satire.  

THere is a Patron, to express his name,  
I think it needless, for you may conjecture,  
Who 'tis by dumb shows: yet I'll read a Lecture,  
upon's Anatomy:" He thinks no shame  
To be at home, yet to deny the same,  
By one of's Pander porters: he is proud  
Of a new Title given him, yet it's stale,  
Knighthood I wish: for's speech he speaks a tale,  
With a Beere-brewers Grace, as for his blood,  
He says he can derived from Robin hood,  
And his May-Marian, and I think he may,  
For's Mother played May-Marian other day.   

If a rich country-Boore come to present him,  
With Pig or Goose, he shall no sooner come,  
But the gate's open, and the Knights at home,  
Where the Dog-fawning Knight will question him,  
Why he from's house has so long absent been?  
Yet other day, a Poet whom he loved,  
At least protested so; knocking at's gate,  
Was full two hours enforced there to wait,  
And still he stayed to find his love approved,  
Till th'Brazen head spoke, through a casement moved,  
(The Knight I mean) but seeing who it was,  
I'm not at home (quoth he) good Poet pass.    

An Epigram in Curium Lampetram: A Cashiered Courtier.  
CVrius Lampetra, (as he doth confess)  
For he was taken i'th' nick, o'th' business,  
Has done, soon done, God wot, a worthy deed,  
Setting the Court's wreath on the City's head:  
But for his wreath, before one Terms demur,  
He was degraded of his Courtly spur.  
(True badge of Honour) and from that time swore,  
Near to approach the City's confines more.  
What should he do? the City was his gain,  
For poor Lampetra near had courtly strain;  
But apish imitation, whose small force  
Made him admired, like an Hobby horse.  
And yet they say, he had a wit at will:  
Running like the rundel of a blind horse-mill.  
Could swear an oath, could foam at mouth could set  
His words in fustain, and could run in debt,  
Could screw his face, could moralise a fable,  
Yet near read Aesop, sit at Duke Humfreys Table,  
Could walk a turn in Paul's, could talk of Spain,  
Yet near was there, and then come home again.  
Why this is courtly, and this he could do,  
Yea but Lampetra knew not how to woe.  
Not woo? why he could kiss, and as they sing  
I'th' ballad too, he could do other thing.  
" A Pox that's true: But shall I tell thee why  
She told all out? he did so scurvily:  
" As at the very instant when their ●aine,  
She said (poor fool) put up thy pipe again,  
For such a Fiddler is far worse than none,  
That plays on still, yet has no stroke but one.  
But prithee say, what shall Lampetra do?  
(As other Courtiers) make a foolish show  
Of what they have not: no, it is decreed,  
Being boorish bred, he must with boors go feed  
On husks and haws; and that he may retain  
Some courtly garb, his ruins to maintain  
Ith' Country must this rustic swain be placed,  
To purchase pardons, when the judgement's past:  
Or he may find a 
Vt in antiquissimis Monumentis in M●nasteri● Saint. Bees, ab inclyto eo generosiss viro, Qui in hunc diem jis operibus praecipue Alabastreis' versatur, nuperrime compertus fuit: et prope Epistomium i● Fleetstreet, publice ostensum, etc.  Giant at St Bees  
And with his sight get money if he please.   

An Emblem writ unto a Gentleman, who entreated the Author to distinguish twixt Rome and room.  
YOu moved me sir, next time I chanced to come,  
For to distinguish betwixt Rome and room,  
Which I have done: and to the full I hope,  
Rome being as far●e from room, as Peter Pope.  
For wheresoe'er I am, wheresoe'er I com●,  
I must have room, yet that I hope's not Room.  
So whensoe'er I see Saint Peter's chair,  
I do infarre, 
a For we read that in the second year of Claudius' reign, Peter the Apostle came to Rome, and there remained 30▪ years after, yet some dissent from this opinion, etc.  Saint Peter has been there.  
But that Saint Peter's heir is now at Rome,  
Though he be there, I'll say it's not his room.  
Peter Rome's pillar, Cater pillar he,  
Whose room I love more than his company.   

EN TRES EXCELlentissimo Phantasto Moriano del Castello, equiti tres illustrissimo septentrionali.  
Fades rare horned Dick. An Anagram included in the Satire.  
FAdes my rare horned Dick? o, out a cry,  
His horns bud out, and gall him grievously,  
What remedy? faith patience: which appears  
In's w●fe, whose patience, many burden bears.  
Th●n he may learn of her: it's true, you say,  
And therefore plies his hornbook day by day.   

Anagramma. How Riches freeded adorn a gull? Epigram.  
Wise is that Fool, that hath his coffers full.  
And Riches freed adorn the v●riest Gull.  
Yet but uncase the Ass, and you shall see,  
An Ass is still an Ass, and so is he.   

An Epigram upon the Anagram, Dedicated to the Mirror of true Excellency, his much admired (though unacquainted) friend, Don MORIANO del CASTELLO, To whom the Author wishes many cheerful days, delightful nights with his late espoused Mistress, whose imparalelld Virtues he hath presumed to illustrate in These his impolish (yet affectionate) Poems.  

MOri●s Augustus thou great man of sense,  
That art enstiled with best of Excellence.  
To thee I write: yet do I not know how,  
T' express thy worth, or with apparent show,  
Of thy demerits blaze thee as thou should,  
Yet know (brave northern spirit) that I would,  
Do full as much as any, if my Art  
Were but of equal value with my heart.  
For thou art he amongst all other men,  
That gives a subject to the freest pen,  
And canst define true honour by degree,  
Drawn from the best, yet instanced in thee.  
Mount thee (resolved Hero) that thy Fame,  
May be a wreath to Morianos' Name.  
Shine bright, like Eos with his beamy face,  
Whose precious Mantle, fringed with some gold lace,  
Made all the passengers admire his worth,  
Descending from heavens Court, to lighten earth.  
I know thou canst do this, for I have seen  
Even in a place, where many more have been,  
And have observed thee, galloping thy round,  
Making low Congees, till thou kiss the ground  
With lip of thy humility, and then  
Putting thy foot in stirrup once again,  
Mounted thy barbed steed, then with thy hand,  
Straking thy horse's crest to make him stand.  
Who proud on's burden, frolicked in his stay,  
And with a neighing stomach traced the way.  
Fair fall thee formal Gallant that hast force,  
To tame the courage of a headstrong horse,  
Displaying resolution in thy eye  
Courtship in clothes, in speech propriety.  
In gesture admiration, in thy look  
An Orb of fashions, or a Table-book.  
Of new-inuented features▪ in thy form,  
Such exquisite perfections as adorn  
Nature's best Mirror, O but that I doubt,  
By speaking of thy wor●h, I shall be out.  
I could epitomize each special thing,  
Thy birth, thy worth, thy wooing, sonnetting.  
Yet for thy love-sake (whatsoever befall)  
I will speak something, though I speak not all.  
'mongst which my Muse records that amorous sonnet  
Which who will not admire, that looks upon it,  
Writ to that fair Alicia now behight,  
The chast-vowed wife unto an honoured Knight:  
Where with loves passions, thou so well did show it.  
That none could think thee lesser than a Poet.  
Apt in thy words, in thy dimensions rare,  
Thy Figures proper, and thy motions fair.  
A●t could not show, or ever yet bring forth,  
So far fetched strains invented so far North.  
Now of her Beauty wouldst thou Comment make,  
And vow to take strange labours for her sake▪  
Then to induce her love (by means most fit)  
Thou wouldst commend the promptness of her wit,  
Protesting by the airy powers above,  
(As who ere loved would not protest they love?)  
No speech ere Pallas spoke merits more praise,  
Than what thy Mistress Dear Alicia says.  
Then wouldst thou descant of her ruby lip,  
(Though thou had never luck to taste of it.)  
Then of her pure complexion which did praise  
Itself, not as complexions now adays.  
Then of her lovely qualities which might be  
Styled the Eccoes of heavens harmony.  
Then of her virtues so divine, so rare,  
As they surpassed the rest above compare.  
All this thou didst to show her eminence,  
More graced by thee being styled his excellence,  
And fair thy love had ended as begun,  
If that a Web had not thy loves web spun.  
Great Northern Atlas, what can I say more,  
Then of thy merits hath been said tofore.  
At least observed? for many men do see,  
And know it well I write but truth of thee.  
O that times records should be so portrayed,  
In leaves of brass, that what was done or said,  
In ancient ages, should so well display,  
Their full events, as done but other day.  
Whilst thy renown great mirror of the North,  
Shown in our time, wants one to set it forth,  
" Whereas it's no less glory to a Crown,  
To have Authors than have Actors of renowns  
Yet shall not virtue so obscured be,  
Nor those accomplished parts appear in thee.  
Lie rak't in Ashes: No great Morios' heir,  
Thou shalt not live as though there nothing were,  
Worthy posterity? its I will write,  
Though far unfitting for so great a light  
My be●t of thee, that art the best of man,  
" He does not ill that does the best he can.  
Accept it needs thou must, how ere't be done,  
Being thy Father's Godson, thou his son.  
But of all virtues tha● attend on thee,  
There's none that equals thy humility.  
Yet so as thou art generous with all,  
A style that does adorn thee most of all.  
Unto thy humble spirit annexed there is,  
Another sovereign virtue, Patience;  
Or the enduring of an injury:  
Which of all others is observed in thee.  
Thou wilt not snuff if one correct thee: no,  
Not hardly ask him why he wronged thee so.  
Thou wilt not answer to thine own disgrace,  
Nor tax the man that turdefies thy face.  
Thou wilt not grieve for every light offence,  
Fear is thy guide, thy shield is Patience.  
Thou like a christian walks (God wot) in fear,  
And being boxed will turn the other ear.  
Thou art God's man, and whatsoe'er men say,  
He is the best man at the later day.  
Thou art no blustering boy that walks the street,  
And binds a quarrel with who s'ere he meet.  
Thou art no Haxtar that by nature's given,  
To rage on Earth, but near to reign in Heaven.  
In brief, thou art the man that God will choose,  
Wearing a blade for fashion more than use.  
Nor do I flatter thee for ne'er was I  
Servile to any man: but if my eye  
Impartial in her knowledge seem to show.  
What by observance other men do know,  
And have admired, pardon I need not crave,  
Since I express but what thy merits have  
Deserved: enough. Thy virtues are with best,  
And little need they to be more expressed,  
Then as they are? Go on (my honoured friend)  
And as thou hast begun, so fairly end.  
Be Fame thy Herald to blaze forth thy worth,  
Making thee Morios, none such upon earth.  
Be as thou art, and more thou canst not be.  
Since best of being is included in thee.  
Be thou as he, to whom all may resort,  
Muses I mean, and coming thank thee for't.  
Be thou as Caesar in the Capital,  
So thou of Morios' Castle Sentinel.  
Be as thou art reported, great in wit,  
And so discreet, as thou may'st manage it.  
Be as thou art, founder of jollity,  
graven in the gold-cup of our Langanbie.  
Be as thou wouldst be, and I wish no more,  
So time shall second what I write before.  
But 'las poor Muse hast thou no more to speak  
Of such a subject, (pray thee dear awake)  
And memorise his name in every page,  
From this time forth unto a following age.  
No? what is my wit drawn dry? or I am ta'en  
With some amazement at a great man's name?  
Why thou hast writ of men as great before,  
And hast expressed their actions over and over.  
Turn'th over their best of glory, and i'th' end,  
So won their hearts, as thou becamst their friend.  
And art thou now grown s●ient? cannot he  
That merits best, receive like praise of thee?  
No, no: he cannot; so obscur'de he lives,  
That though I write but truth, yet who believes  
A true relation, when we seem to show  
A man to men whom they do hardly know?  
O then (redoubted sir) let me now end  
T●is home bred Sonnet (as a loving friend  
That would persuade) if you perswad' would be  
To show yourself something more openly  
Unto the world. O see how men repine,  
That you so long concealed, should gull the time,  
Having such parts, as much adorn your birth,  
Yet has no willing mind to set them forth.  
What is a jewel worth if ever hid?  
Or what's a cased Instrument in stead?  
The lustre of the former is not seen,  
Nor can we know byth' latter what't does mean.  
For Gems and instruments are known by touch,  
And such as show them men, we know them such.  
With like good will do I present thee these,  
As Mopsus (that poor shepherd) sent a cheese  
Unto his Phillis: and it came to me  
Once in my mind, to send the like to thee:  
But for I feared (and I have cause to fear)  
That you had better cheese than any here:  
In steed of bride-cakes, cheesecakes I was tie  
In love, to send this present to your Bride▪  
All hail to Hymen and this marriage day:  
Strew rushes, and quickly come away.  
Bring in your flowers, and give of each of them  
To such as loved and are forsaken men.  
For well I know so loving is the Bride,  
So courteous and so liberal beside  
Of her discreet affection, I dare say  
None must depart unsatisfied away.  
Strew rushes maids, and ever as you strew,  
Think one day maids, like will be done for you:  
Strew you, I'll sing, or if you like nor choice;  
Sing you, I'll strew: you have the better voice.   

Crowned be thou Queen of love,  
By those glorious powers above:  
Love and Bewrie joined together  
May they col and kiss each other,  
And in midst of their delight,  
Show thee pleasure in the night.  
For where acts of love resort,  
Longest nights seem too too short;  
May thou sleeping dream of ●hat,  
Which then waking dost partake,  
That both sleep and watching may  
Make the darkest night seem day:  
As a fort besieged rest,  
Yielding most, when seeming jest:  
Or in pleasures may thy smile  
Burnish like the Camomile,  
Which in verdure is encrest  
Most, when it is most depressed.  
virtues as they do attend thee,  
So may sovereign thoughts defend thee.  
Acting in thy love with him,  
Wedlock's actions are no sin:  
Who in Hym●ns bands is joined,  
And in sacred love combined,  
To remain ever thine.  
He thy Picture thou his shrine,  
Thou the metal he the mint,  
Thou the wax he the print,  
He the Lantern, thou the lamp,  
Thou the bullion, he the stamp.  
Thou the figure he the feature;  
He thy former, thou his creature.  
He the image, leg and limb,  
Thou the mould to cast him in.  
He the plummet thou the centre.  
Thou to shelter he to enter;  
Thou the Park or shady vale,  
" He the dog that freth's the pale.  
Hammer he to strike alone,  
anvil thou to beat upon▪  
More I could, but more I will not,  
Since to speak more much it skills not;  
Only I will here extend  
Th'period of my speech as friend;  
And express what I protest  
Comes from th'center of my breast,  
That my protestations may  
Bear record another day.  
Iö Hymen crown the night  
Of these Nuptials with delight.   

No more, no more: much honour aye betide,  
The lofty Bridegroom, and the lovely Bride:  
That their succeeding days and years may say,  
Each day appears like to a marriage day.  
But now retire, dark shades have lodged the sun,  
Put up thy pipes for now thy lays are done.   
Finis Epithalami.   

To the hopeful young Gentleman, and his experienced friend, Mr. CHEATER. ANAGRAMM. TEACHER.  
Teacher you are, for you have taught me more,  
Then I was taught in all my life before.  
A GRATULATORY Epigram.  
TO thee (young youth) these youngling lines I write  
Stored with my best of wishes: may delight  
Crown that long-wished for Nuptial bed of thine,  
(Which should have been) if Fate had granted mine  
With many happy nights: Blessed be my fate,  
Since what one friend has is communicate  
Unto an other, that my love should end,  
And ending, give beginning to my friend.  
But why say I it's ended? sith by thee,  
A three-loves song bears descant merrily.  
And thus it is: I loved her, where thou art,  
She thee, thou me; thre● lovers in one heart:  
She thine, thou mine (if mine thou styled may be)  
Makes her in being thine, espoused to me.   

An Emblem which the Author composed in honour of his Mistress, to whom he rests ever devoted.  
Allusively shadowing her name in the title of the Emblem, which he en●tiles: His Frankes Anatomy.  

FRanke thy name doth promise much,  
I● thy nature were but such:  
But alas what difference grow  
'Twixt those two, I only know?  
I alas that to thy beauty  
Am devoted in all duty;  
I that once invented lays,  
Singing them in shepherds praise,  
I that once from love was free  
Till I fell in love with thee:  
I that never yet began  
Trade, to hold my mistress fan;  
I that never yet could know,  
Whether love was high or low:  
I that never loved was,  
Nor could court a looking-glass:  
I that never knew loves law,  
Nor loved longer than I saw;  
I that knew not what's now common,  
To throw sheep-eyes at a woman:  
I that never yet could prove,  
Or make show of hearty love:  
I that never broke my sleep,  
Nor did know what charms did keep  
lovers eyes: now can tell  
What would please a lover well.  
Shall I tell thee? yes I will,  
And being told: or save, or kill.  
It would please him, if he might  
Ever live in'● Mistress sight:  
It would please him t' have the hap,  
But to sleep in is Mistress lap:  
Or to have his Mistress fair,  
With her hand to struck his hair.  
Or to play at foot-St. with him,  
Or at barleybreak to breath him:  
Or to walk a turn or two,  
Or to kiss, or college, or woe;  
Or in some retired Grove,  
But to parley with his love.  
Or when none that's jealous spies,  
To look babbies in his eyes:  
Or when action gins to fail,  
To supply it with a tale.  
Venus unto Vulcan wed,  
Yet came Mars to Vulcan's bed:  
He and she being both in one,  
Whilst poor Vulcan lies alone;  
Or if this will not afford  
joy enough: observe each bird  
How she singles out her make  
And to him does only take.  
See their billing each with other,  
(Love and dallying younced together)  
Mutual love inheres in either,  
Being birds both of one feather;  
Or if this yield no content.  
To resort unto the plant,  
Which being grafted skilfully,  
Brings forth fruit abundantly:  
Deeper that the plant's we see,  
Sooner will it fruitful be,  
Which (my frank) in modesty,  
Thus I will apply to thee.  
Deeper that thy love is set,  
More impression may it get:  
Riper fruits then such as grow,  
And are planted scarce so low:  
If you ask me what I seem,  
By impression for to mean,  
I will tell thee: such as these,  
Impressions only women please.  
" Coin for stamp sake we allow:  
So for stamp sake do we you,  
Weake's that Evidence you know  
That has neither scale to show,  
Stamp, impression: such (I ken)  
Are you may de●, not stamped by m●n  
Weak, God wot, for why you take  
Your perfection from your make:  
Then if thou desire to be  
Perfect, have recours to me:  
Or some other that may give,  
What old Adam gave to Eve,  
'Las it's nothing: pray thee take it,  
Many wish it that forsake it.  
But when shameful dance is done,  
They could wish they had begun  
Many years before they learned it,  
(O how gladly would they earn it?)  
But too long, I seem to stay,  
Ere thy beauty I display:  
Spare me sweetest for my Muse,  
Seldom makes so fair a choose.  
Choose it Lou● what ere it be,  
Read thy own Anatomy.   

Purest of Ophyr-gold, let me prepare  
First for the choice description of thy hair,  
Which like the finest thirds of purple seem  
Clear to outstrip those of the Paprian Queen;  
Whose tender tresses were so neatly wrought,  
As Cholcos' fleece seemed to be thither brought,  
And sure it was▪ what ere fond Poets say,  
And this was th' fleece which jason took away.  
Delicious Amber is the breath which flows  
From those perfumed conduits of thy nose,  
Thy smile, a snare, which tempts the wayward boy  
Adonis the fair, and bids him leave to joy  
I● Forrest pleasures, there's a fruitless mark,  
Having more store of game within thy park.  
Thy lips (two gates) where love makes entry in,  
And yet so modest as near taxed of sin:  
Thy cheek, that rosy circlet of pure love,  
Resembling nearest that Castalian grove;  
Where such variety of flowers appear  
That nought seems good, which is not betered there▪  
Thy b●ush (pure blush) Emblem of Chastity  
Blushing, yet guildesse of aught done by thee  
Portends a maiden's honest-spotlesse heart,  
Having thy blush by nature not by Art.  
Thy chin (that dimpled mou●t) which hath last plac●  
Yet gives no lesser bewry to thy face:  
Then th'greatest ornament: for it doth show,  
Like to a pleasant Vale seated below  
Some steepy Mount: thy crystal eyes the fount,  
Thy chin the Vale, thy lovely face the Mount.  
O is not then this feature, 'bove compare,  
Where breath is perfume, and pure gold is hair  
Where smiles are snares, lips gates of ivory,  
Cheeks roses, blushes types of chastity:  
Where chin a vale, the brow the mount, the face  
That Sovereign of the heart, that keeps loves place:  
Where shall I look then, or how shall I move  
These eyes of mine and teach them not to love?  
For if my eyes should but thy hair behold,  
I must be forced to love for it is gold:  
If thy delicious breath I chance to sip,  
Being the rosy verdure of thy lip;  
I deem myself in that sweet perfume blest  
Much more, in that, worse breaths be in request:  
If thou do smile, I love, and wish the while,  
That I might only live to see thee smile.  
If thou do speak (pure Orator) I'm dumb,  
For why? thy admiration curbs my tongue.  
If thou but blush (as maids are wont to do)  
My passions are perplexed, I wot not how,  
'Twixt fear and loue● fear makes me wondrous pale,  
Fearing thy blush came from some wanton tale.  
Too too immodest spoken by myself,  
Which to assoil I'll reprehend myself;  
If I but ●utch, to touch 's a venial sin,  
The pretty circle of thy dimpled chin:  
I vow and in my vow gives Beauty thanks,  
That chin was Venus, though it now be Franks.  
Yet have I not spoke all that I dot see;  
Or at least judge in thy Anatomy:  
For true Anatomists being men of Art,  
Know the exact description of each part,  
Member and artery: so should my sight  
Be in my Frank if I describe her right,  
Which that I might reduce to some full end,  
Though there's no end in love, I will descend  
To the distinct relation of the rest,  
And in my Franks discovery think me blest.  
Thy waste, (without waste) like a curious frame▪  
Aptly proportioned still reserves the same:  
Or like some well composed Instrument  
Exact in form, in accent excellent;  
So is thy waste, and happy may he be,  
That's borne to make it strike true harmony.  
Thy belly (if conjectures true may be)  
For we must guess at that we cannot see,  
Is like an orient Cordon pearled fair,  
With diverse feats of Nature here and there.  
Where glides a crystal streameling to abate,  
The heat of Nature oft insatiate.  
Pardon me Dear: Nature ordained first  
That Fount of yours, to quench the place of thirst▪  
Thy thigh (imagination now must do)  
For I must speak, though well I know not how,  
Like the laborious and the loaden Bee.  
That hastens to her hive melodiously.  
Nor is her freight more luscious (Deer) than thine,  
For thine is full of pleasure, hers of Thyme:  
Thy knee like to an orb that turns about,  
Giving free passage to thy nimble foot,  
Apt for each motion, active in loves sphere,  
Moving her joints to trip it every where.  
Thy leg (like Delias') neither big nor small,  
But so well framed and featured in all,  
That Nature might seem envious to impart,  
So great a good, and hide so good a part.  
Thy foot the curious't module of the rest,  
For Art and Nature there be both expressed:  
Art in the motion, Nature in the frame,  
Where action works and motion moves the same.  
Nor can I credit what our Poets say,  
Affirming Venus chanced upon a day  
To prick her foot, so as from th'blood she shed.  
The damaske-rose grew ever after red;  
For if from blood such strange effects should be,  
Stanger (ere this) had been derived from thee:  
But Poets though they write, Painters portray,  
It's in our choice to credit what they say.  
Yet credit me (for I would have thee know it)  
I never yet durst challenge name of Poet:  
Only thine own I am and still will be,  
For whom I writ this poor Anatomy.    

Upon his Mistress Nuptial, ENSTILED: His Frankes Farewell.  
WHy whither Frank? to th'church? for what to pray?  
O no: to say, what thou canst near unsay:  
Alas poor Girl: I see thy quondam friend,  
Hath cause to say his hopes are at an end:  
How vainly then be our affections placed,  
On womenkind, that are so seeming chaste,  
And privately so forward-well-be gone,  
(If ere I marry) I'll find such an one,  
As (in her modesty) will think 't disgrace  
" Others to love when I am out of place.  
But I do thank thee Frank, th' hast taught me more,  
Then I could learn in twice seven year before;  
For I did think your simple sex did hate  
By double dealing to equivocate:  
Where by experience now I find it common,  
That fast and loose is usual with women.  
Yet in these rites this line my love shall tell,  
Fare well or ill, I wish my Frank farewell.   

An Epigram called the WOOER.  

COme ye brave wooers of Penelope,  
Do not repine that you should crossed be:  
For pregnant wits, and ripest brains can show,  
As much or more than ever you did know.  
And that my story better may appear,  
Attend to my discourse, and you shall hear.  
It chanced upon a time (and then was'th time)  
When the thigh-fraughted Be gathered her thyme,  
Stored her plaited Cell, her fragrant bower,  
Cropped from each branch, each blossom & each flower  
When'th pretty Lam-kin scarce a fortnight old,  
Skipped and froliked 'fore the neighbouring fold,  
When'the cheerful Robin, Lark and Lenaret,  
Tuned up their voices, and together met,  
When'th fearful Hare to cheer her acquaint delight,  
Did make herself her own Hermaphrodite,  
When'th lovely Turtle did her eyes awake,  
And with swift flight followed her faithful make,  
When every Beast prepared her wont den,  
For her own young, and shade to cover them,  
When Flora with her mantle tucked up,  
Gathered the dewy flowers, and them did put  
In her embroidered skirts which were rank set,  
With Primrose, Cow-slip, and the violet,  
The dill, the daisy, sweet breathed Eglantine,  
The Crowfoote, pausie, and the Columbine,  
The pink, the plantain, milfoile, every one▪  
With Mari●gold that opens with the Sun;  
Even than it was, (ill may I say it was)  
When young Admetus wooed a country lass.  
A country lass whom he did woe indeed,  
To be his Bride, but yet he could not speed.  
Which forced him grieve: hear but his cause of woe,  
And you'll not wonder why he should do so?  
Virtuous the maid was, and so graced by fate,  
As she was wise, and did degenerate  
From her weak witted father: modesty  
Lodged on her cheek, and showed virginity  
In a fair Rosy colour, which was spread  
By equal mixture both of white and red.  
So as no white it seemed, but Ida's snow,  
No red, but such where Roses use to grow.  
And though of Hero many one do write,  
Styling her sovereign Goddess of delight,  
So fair as she was taken for no other,  
Of all that saw her, than Adonis' mother.  
So pure her skin, so motive to the eye▪  
As it did seem composed of ivory.  
So high and broad her front, so smooth, so eue●,  
As it did seem the Frontispiece of Heanen.  
So purely mixed her cheeks, as it might seem,  
She was by nature made for nature's Queen.  
So pretty dinted was her dimpled chin,  
As't seemed a gate to let affection in.  
So sweet her breath, (as I have hard them tell)  
That like to Cassia she did ever smell.  
So lovely were those mounts of pure delight,  
That Gods themselves were cheered with their sight▪  
So as great jove (for so our Poets say)  
Feigned himself sick for her upon a day.  
Wise Aesculapius he was sent forthwith,  
Who fel● Ioues pulse, yet found no sign of death,  
Or any great distemper: (yet to please jove  
For he perceived his malady was love)  
Said; Sir, I'ave found your grief: what is't (quoth he?)  
A mere consumption, yet be ruled by me,  
And follow my directions (though with pain)  
And then no doubt you shall be well again.  
Five morns must you to ' Abidoes' town repair,  
And suck pure milk from th' fairest virgin there.  
jove hearing what he wished, obeyed bis hest;  
And war soon well by sucking Heroes breast.  
Yet what was Hero, though the fairest that was  
In all her time unto Admetus' lass?  
Though Hero's beauty did allure all men,  
The time is changed, now's now, and then was then.  
Each milk-maid in fore time was thought a Queen.  
So rare was perfect beauty to be seen.  
But now, where is no Venus to be had?  
Such store I wot there be, thet every lad  
Can have his tricksy lass, which wantonly,  
Scarce crept from shell, he dandles on his knee.  
But to my story of such royal parts  
Was she composed, that the very hearts  
Of her attendants, as it did appear,  
Were spoused to this pure virgin every where▪  
V●ith what resolved silence would her wit,  
Oppose ●er tongue, and seem to bridle it?  
With what discretion would she speak● her mind,  
And near transgesse those limits she assigned.  
But with that decency of grace and speech,  
As She might seem the elder sort to teach.  
" What a blessed sex were woman if this song  
Were only learned them, for to hold their tongue,  
And speak no more (O 'twere a lesson good)  
Then that were fit, and what they understood?  
But when will that be taught them! O (I fear)  
Never; for women's tongues be every where.  
So as at first if they had no tongue,  
I● may be thought they would not have been dumb.  
Such is th'eternal motion that it's said,  
When women speechless lie they're nearly dead.  
T●is virgin which Admetus sought to have,  
Beside her virtues, than which who could crave,  
A better portion had an ample dower,  
Which did enrich those gifts that were before  
Expressed and dilated, and to tell  
The very truth, she loved Admetus well.  
And could have brooked all others t'have denied,  
So that she might have been Admetus' bride.  
But he a shamefast lad, though oft he sought  
Her love, yet durst not utter what he thought.  
Nor to her parents could impart his mind,  
How he affected was, and how inclined.  
Yet still was he respected, and in grace,  
Nor any sought to put him out of place.  
Nor to withdraw th'affection of the maid,  
From that foundation where it once was laid  
For three months' space, hung it in this suspense,  
Neither concealed nor sh●wne: till's Excellence,  
For so was th'Title of a noble Squire,  
Whose living bordered in th'adjoining shire,  
By an intendment (as he thought upon 't)  
Pu● poor Admetus' nose quite out of joint,  
And thus it was: for I mean to repeat  
By what deceit, what cunning slight and cheat,  
He bobbed this simple Swaineling; on a day,  
When young Admetus had addressed his way  
To Tr●inouant, where be occasion had,  
" His Excellence in th'absence of the lad,  
Acquaints another with Bellinaes' love,  
(For so her name was:) he more prompt to move  
Affection, than Admetus ere could be,  
Wins me Bellina's fort courageously,  
By new assaults, incursions, and displayed  
His youngling Colours: when the breach was made.  
O how methinks I see th'young Soldier sweat,  
Till he hath done, and perfected his fear.  
How he assails, assaults, ascends, inclines,  
Invades, environs, ruins, undermines,  
Whilst she like to a Fort oppressed doth lie,  
Deprived all means of help, yet will not cry.  
He like a stout victorious Hannibal,  
Bidding her yield, or he will raze the wall.  
She though made subject to his conquering hand,  
Like Carthage Queen still at defiance stands.  
He (with the Spirit of a Mirmido●,)  
Makes her the Carpet which he lies upon.  
She (Deianira-like) will choose death first,  
Ere she crave mercy, bids him do his worst▪  
He enters th'breach, and doth his fignall rear,  
And leaves some token that he has been there:  
She glories in her conquest, and thrown down,  
Says, I am low, yet am not overcome.  
He doth renew his battery, and stands to't,  
And she Vyrago-like, yields not a foot.  
He takes more firmer grounding, yet is she  
Still as she was, lower she cannot be.  
He plants his Engines deeper, labours more,  
Yet she protests, its worse than 'twas before.  
He enters parlye, and speaks over the wall,  
But she (as senseless) answers not at all.  
He sounds retreat, and to his camp doth creep,  
Which makes her wake out of her pleasant sleep▪  
Then in a sweet entwining do they clip,  
And cull and kiss, and from the rosy lip  
Of Hymen's chaste embraces do they taste,  
The sweets above, when lower joys be passed▪  
here is the spell of sweet-charmd Morphus  
Dissolved to nothing, by charms amorous.  
For though men (after Labour) rest do seek,  
loves eyes be open still, and cannot sleep.  
judge what Admetus thought when he did hear▪  
Of this report, soon whispered in his ear,  
How he did look? how strange perplexed he was,  
Thus to be cheated of his lovely la●se?  
Pipe could he not, his cheeks were grown so thin,  
His pipe-bagge torn, no wind it could keep in,  
His cloue-eared cur lay hanging down his head,  
And for four days, would taste no kind of bread.  
His Flocks did pine (all went contrary way)  
here lay Admetus, there his Sheep-crooke lay,  
All wea-begane, thus lived the Shepherd long,  
Till on a day inspired with a song,  
(For so it seemed) to others more than me,  
Which thus he sung to maid inconstancy.   

Foolish I, why should I grieve,  
To sustain what others feel?  
What suppose, frail women leave,  
Those they loved, should I conceal  
Comforts rest,  
From my breast.  
For a fickle, brittle woman,  
No, No, No,  
Let her go,  
Such as these be true to no man.   

Long retired hast thou been,  
Sighing on these barren rocks,  
Nor by sheep nor shepherd seen,  
Now return unto thy flocks▪  
Shame away,  
Do not stay,  
With these moving-loving woman,  
They remove  
From their love:  
Such as these do oft undo men.   

Tender-tinder of Affection,  
If I harbour thee again,  
I will do it by direction,  
Of some grave experienced swain.  
Near will I,  
Love by th'eye,  
But where judgement first hath tried,  
If I live,  
Ere to love,  
It is she, shall be my bride.   

When this retired Swain had ended his song,  
He seemed as one that had forgot his wrong,  
His Teres were dried up, his willow wreath,  
Thrown quite away, and he began to breath,  
More cheerful and more blithe then ere he was,  
Forgetting th'Name and Nature of his lass,  
So as no Swain on all the plain could be,  
For any May-game readier than he:  
Now would he tune his pipe unto his Ear,  
And play so sweet, as ioved the flocks to hear,  
Yea I have heard, (Nor think I Fame did lie)  
So skilful was this lad in M●nstrelsie,  
That when he played (one st●oke) which oft he would,  
No Lass that heard him could her water hold.  
And now because I do remember't well,  
I'll tell a tale which I have heard him tell,  
On winter-nights full oft unto my Sire,  
While I sat roasting of a Crab by th'fire.   

A Man there was wh'had lived a merry life,  
Till in the end he took him to a wife,  
One ●hat no image was (for she could speak)  
And now and then her husband's costrell break.  
So fierce she was and furious▪ as in some  
She was an arrant Devil of her tongue.  
This drove the poor man to a discontent,  
And oft and many times did he repent  
That ere he changed his former quiet state,  
But 'las repentance, than did come too late.  
No cure he finds to heal this malady,  
But makes a virtue of necessity.  
The common cure for care to every man,  
A pot of nappy Ale: where he began  
To fortify his brain against all should come,  
Amongst which the clamour of his wives loud tongue.  
This habit graffed in him grew so strong,  
" That when he was from ●le, an hour seemed long,  
So well he liked th'profession: on a Time,  
Having stayed long at pot, (for rule nor line  
Limits no drunkard) even from Morn to Night,  
He hasted home apace, by the moonlight:  
Where as he went, what fantasies were bred,  
I do not know, in his distempered head.  
But a strange Ghost appeared (and forced him stay)  
With which perplexed, he thus began to say.  
Good Spirit, if thou be, I need no charm,  
For well I know, thou wilt not do me harm,  
And if the Devil; sure, me thou shouldst not hurt.  
I weded thy sister, and am plagued for't.  
The spirit well-approving what he said,  
Dissolved to air, and quickly vanished.  
For Guido saith, some spirits walk on earth,  
That cheered are, and much delight with mirth,  
Such do admire conceits and pregnant brains;  
Others there are, which Melancholy chains,  
And keeps in low Subjection, these are they  
Affect the baleful night, frequent that way  
That is obscure, silent and intricate,  
Dark charnell-houses, where they keep their chat▪  
Of Tortures, Tragic ends and Funerals,  
Which they solemnize for their Festivals.  
Thus would Admetus pass the winter-night,  
Wherein he gave such neighbours great delight,  
As came to hear him: and such store he had,  
Of acquaint conceits, as there was not a lad,  
That of discourse had more variety,  
Or could express his mind more gracefully.  
But lack for sorrow, how he's fallen away,  
That was so trim a youth but other day,  
A mere Anatomy, but skin and bone,  
One that it pities me to look upon.  
What should the cause be, sure I cannot say,  
But his pale face, some sickness doth bewray?  
" For as our thoughts are legible in our eye,  
" So doth our face our body's grief descry.  
Yet I perchance, by th' Sonnet which he made,  
May find the cause for which he is dismayed  
How ere it fall, it shall be sung by me,  
Now when I want Admetus company.   

Admetus' Sonnet.  

NEighbour Swains and Swainelius hear me,  
" Its Admetus bids you hear,  
Leave your Pastures, and come near me,  
" Come away you need not fear,  
By my soul, as I affect you,  
I have nought that can infect you.  
O then come,  
Hear a tongue,  
That in discord keeps a part,  
With a Woe-surcharged heart.   

Near was Swain on plain more loved,  
Or could do more feats than I,  
Yet one grief hath now removed,  
All my whilom jollity.  
All my Lays be quite forgotten,  
Sheephook broken, pipe-bagge rotten,  
O then come,  
Hear a tongue.  
That with flattering speech doth call,  
To take long farewell of all.   

I am not as once I was,  
When Eliza first did suit me,  
Nor when that same redhaired lass,  
Fair Bellina did invite me,  
To a Garden there to play,  
Cull, kiss, clip, and toy all day,  
O then come,  
Hear a tongue,  
That in wooing terms was flowing,  
But through Woe has spoiled his wooing.   

All I can or will desire ye  
When my breath of life is spent,  
That in love you would inter me,  
(For it will my soul content,)  
Near unto my Father's hearse,  
And bestow some comely verse  
On my Tomb,  
Then my tongue  
Shall throb out this last adieu,  
Near were truer swains than you.   

A verse Admetus? I will be the swain,  
Though most unfit, to undertake that pain,  
Which in fair letters shall engraven be,  
Over thy hearse t'express thy memory,  
And thus it is: here is a Shepherd laid,  
Who loved, was loved, yet lived and died a Maid.  
Yet 'gainst his will: pray then good spirits tell,  
Whether he must or no lead Apes in Hell.     

How Fancy is a Frenzy. An Epigram.  

ANd thou 
* In Euenum Flu●●n lubrico pr●grediens cursu, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Euenus whose renowm's dispersed,  
About chose fertile coasts which border thee,  
Whose well-tuned Current runs so prettily,  
That Fame herself, nor shall it be reversed,  
Has thus enacted: that thy liquid breast  
Should make my consort up, for there appears  
Even in thine eyes, continuing streams of tears.   

Still may thy Sliding-foord, and spacious course,  
Wash those adjoining vales encircle thee,  
Which by thy means yield crops so fruitfully,  
That thy pure sand may be of Ganges force,  
Golds pure Elixir: for thou hast remorse,  
And pities my hard hap to love a swain,  
That hates my love, and makes my suit in vain,   

Oft by thy Sliding Channel have I stood,  
Bathing myself in tears, tears were the drink,  
That quenched my thirst, & when thou seemed to sink,  
Into some hollow caverne, straight my blood,  
" (That little blood I had) made thy course good.  
And sink into the Cisterns of mine eyes,  
Filling thy streams with tears, thy banks with cries,   

Straight fell I down upon thy floury shore,  
As if the shore had been my mistress breast,  
Where I a while conceived that sweetened rest,  
As it expelled the care I felt before,  
Seeming to make my comforts so much more,  
Because so long delayed; but lass the while,  
My thoughts checked me, I checked my thoughts of guile.   

For well I found, this was a golden dream,  
Yet but a Dream, that seemed to represent,  
Unto mine eyes, that sacred Continent,  
Which shadows my content: but this has been,  
Ever most true, Dreams are not as they seem.  
And if they were, I'm sure they missed in this,  
Taking thy Bank for where my mistress is.   

Oft did I cull, and clip, and kiss, and do,  
God wot, full madly, for reposing there,  
I called the grass, the tresses of her hair:  
And bound it up, yet well I knew not how,  
Making a bracelet on't, which I would show  
To every Shepherd, so distracted was I,  
And every rural Sylvan that past by.   

All this thou saw, and thou did pity me,  
" For thy distreaming tears explained no less,  
Surcharged breasts must needs their griefs express,  
Which once expressed; suppressed seem to be:  
" Tears unto grief, yield soveraignst remedy.  
For Tears do silence grief, but where appears  
Extent of grief, there griefs do silence tears.   

And such were mine: sometimes I could not weep,  
But like one senseless, laughed at my distress,  
Mixing a strain of Mirth with heaviness,  
Or as one casten in a deadly sleep,  
That neither sense nor faculty can keep,  
Even such was I: but straight I changed my song,  
Making my joys short, but my sorrows long.   

Her fancy was the frenzy that surprised  
My idle brain with these distracted passions,  
Ten thousand shapes I had, ten thousand fashions,  
Despising, loving, love where I despisd'e,  
Prising her most, where I was lowest pris'de.  
Thus my affections to distractions turned,  
Made me mourn more than lover ever mourned,   

And Reason too: for some I had, my Friends,  
(At least they seemed so) which contemned my grief  
Nor sought to yield my silly heart relief,  
With one poor comfort, but as divers ends,  
Occasion strange effects; so Love depends  
(If I may call in constant Friendship Love,)  
On Fortune here below, not truth above.   

Let me unrippe my sorrows, that my breast  
May void such Scarabees, that use to sit  
Upon each ulcer: whose contagious wit,  
Is worse than Hellebore, for they infest  
The purest Mansion, loving ever lest  
Where they show most Affection, for their strain,  
Is not for love but profit, and their gain.   

Record them (sweet Euenus) for they hate,  
Thy sacred streams: wash not their soiled sin  
With thy pure liquor: for the Aethiops skin,  
Will be black still: the doom of envious fate,  
(Like Mammon's heirs) sits skouling o'er their state:  
Their Summer-Swallows flourish, they make one,  
But if thy state he blasted, they are gone.   

And thou (Blessed Hymen) that confirms the love,  
Of Mortal souls, with thy divinest rites,  
Knows whom I mean by, for they quench thy lights  
By their abuse: but there's a power above,  
Will dash their gainful trade, and remove,  
Their Bartering from the earth, to th'depth of hell.  
That teach in Marriage how to buy and sell.   

Yet dear Euenus, I have more to speak,  
For I would have thee carry me commends,  
To such as be my true approved friends,  
(For some I have will neither bow nor break)  
Midst my afflictions: but by all means seek  
To re-infuse life in me pray the tell  
When by their house thou goest, that I am well,   

And if they ask thee how I brook this place  
Where I'm retired to: say, as lovers use,  
Penned from their loves, they cannot will, nor choose,  
But live an Hermit's life, and in disgrace  
Of beauty and her name, hath made his face  
Like times annatomie (poor skeleton)  
An object fit for Ruth to look upon.   

Tell them the books I read, be such as treat,  
Of Amadis de Gaul, and Pelmerin,  
Furious Orlando, and Gerilion,  
Where I observe each fashion and each feat,  
Of amorous humours, which in my conceit,  
Seem to to rare, That they that were so strong,  
Should be so mad, and I be tame so long,   

But presently I recollect my sense,  
And finds a reason: questionless I'm mad  
But who cares for't, or marks it? if I had  
Land (like an elder brother) Eminence  
Of some Court-Comet, would have presidence,  
Over my brainpan: and would beg my wit,  
Though neither he nor I could manage it.   

So though I lose my wits I cannot lose  
My lands, they rest secure; where? can you tell?  
Where? yes, where not? wil't please thee buy, I'll sell:  
What? wit? I have none; counsel? neither: house?  
The arch of heaven's my cover; pray excuse  
My Error, I am poor: I'have nought to sell  
But tears and those I cannot part with well.   

But (pray thee) spare thy speech to such as be,  
And ever were professed foes to love,  
And Bayne to marriage, for by them I prove  
The depth of discontent: they love not me,  
Nor do I care for'●: once I hope to see,  
Envy without a sting, which still extends  
Her hateful power unto depraved ends.   

Yet if thou chance to slide by envies place,  
(Which by this true description thou shalt know)  
Her structures ruined are, and there doth grow,  
A grove of fatal Elms, wherein amaze,  
Or labyrinth is framed: here Envies race,  
Had their beginning, For there's yet to see,  
The very throne where Envy used to be.   

Tell that (proud minion) that ambitious dame,  
Whose meager look and broad dissheaveld lock,  
Whose dangling nose, shaped like an apricock,  
Makes her desertless proud, that I do blame  
Her unjust dealing, though I scorn to name,  
Th'unjustness of it: yet this vow i'll make,  
I'll near trust long-nosed Female for her sake. 
* Et ●u quae minio nardoque fulges, extende●s occulos alti●i provectos, desi●●e ceptis.— 
Nasutam dicam, et sane dicerens,  
Saiuxta nasum polle at ingenium.     

Could she (hard hearted she) for private gain,  
(Such lucring Mammonists the heavens displease,)  
Sell both the love and liking of her Niece,  
And where love showed her most, there to restrain,  
Affection within bounds? sweet streams complain,  
To juno on't, I know she'll pity me  
And grant my suit— That she may barren be.   

We have too many of that odious brood,  
We need no more: it is a fruitless fruit,  
That shames the Parents:— juno hear my suit,  
For it will do both heaven and earth much good,  
And be a caveat unto womanhood;  
" Rather in Marriage not to deal at all,  
Then to set Marriage sacred rites at sale.   

Farewell (Euenus) I have writ my mind,  
Which I would have thy streamelings to convey  
To envies house, by that frequented way,  
Which as a Port or Haven is assigned  
To every passenger: Sweet breathing wind  
Breath on thy sails, that when thou dost complain,  
Remembering me, thy tear-swollen eyes may rain,  
And fructefie the earth: That time may show,  
This did Euenus for her Poet do.    

Certain Select Epigrams, made good by observance, experience, and instance: with an introduction to Time, including sundry conceited passages, no less pleasant than present.  
It's a mad world my Masters.  

O Age what art thou made of? sure thou art,  
Composed of other metal than thou wert,  
Once was thy glory by thy virtues shown,  
But now alas thy virtues are unknown.  
For who should show worth but great men? yet each day  
Shows by experience, None more ill than they,  
Where Honour on a foote-cloth's wont to pass,  
Like Appians Land Lord on his trapped Ass.  
'Las I have seen what I have grieved to see,  
Honour with virtue near keep company.  
But if they do (as some observance make)  
It's not for Conscience, but for fashion sake.  
O then how vain is time, to shower down good,  
On such as are but great, only by blood;  
Not true demerits which makes me contemn,  
The idle passions of fantastic men,  
Which think't sufficient to be great in state,  
Without least virtue fit to imitate:  
This makes me hence conclude: vice puts on honour:  
" For virtue, there is none will look upon her.   

I in my time have seen an upstart Lord,  
Raised to sudden honour like a Gourd,  
Whom in as small time I may chance to see,  
As jonah's gourd, so withered he may be,  
And what's the cause? because it's not demerit  
Or true descent, by which he doth inherit,  
Such new stolen honours: for than might his name  
Freely such estimation seem to claim:  
But an insinuating humour drawn,  
" From that same source of vice, that loathsome spawn  
Of all distempered passions, which can be  
Marked with no better name than flatteries  
And is this way to purchase honour truly?  
Can such a man be said to merit duly?  
When howsoever we admire him for his seat.  
" It was not worth, but baseness made him great.  
O Time, how strangely art thou varied,  
From what thou once appeared; how art thou led  
By every fashion-monger that doth stand  
More on the egg fying of his band  
His peaked munchattoes, his Venetian hose.  
His Buskin-pace, how Gorgonlike he goes,  
His crispled hair, his fixing of his eye,  
His ceruss-cheeke, and such effemnacie:  
" Than on tru-man-like Virtues: for its common,  
Women are liker men, men liker women;  
Sith I no other difference can make,  
'Twixt man and woman save the outward shape  
Their mind's all one: nor doth their shape appear  
Much different: since women th'breeches wear:  
Which fashion now to th'country makes resort,  
In imitation of their wear at Court;  
Where it is said to shun the means of sin,  
Came that use up to wear their breeks of linen;  
And can we see this and not pity it▪  
When men that have more complement than wit,  
Shine in the eye of popular respect,  
And others of more worth droop in neglect?  
We cannot: yet must we admire them still,  
(That worthless are) thought be against our will,  
What remedy? I'll tell thee, though thou dare not,  
But congee when thou meets them: laugh & spare not  
So 't be in private, burst thy sides with laughter,  
And whilst thouart laughing, I'll come lashing after:  
Mean time (with silence) I would have thee hear me,  
That have composed these Epigrams to cheer thee.  
Take them how ere they be: if ●owre in taste,  
Reform thy errors which are former past:  
If sweet, let th'relish of my poems move  
That love in thee, to thank me for my love:    

To the Precisian.  
FOr the Precisian that dares hardly look,  
(Because thouart pure forsooth) on any book  
Save Homilies, and such as tend to th'good  
Of thee, and of thy zealous brotherhood:  
Know my Time-noting lines aim not at thee,  
For thou art too too curious for me.  
I will not tax that man that's wont to slay  
" His Cat for kill mice on th'Sabboth day:  
No; know my resolution it is thus,  
I'd rather be thy foe then be thy pus:  
And more should I gain by 't: for I see,  
The daily fruits of thy fraternity.  
Yea, I perceive why thou my book should shun,  
" Because there's many faults thouart guilty on:  
Therefore withdraw by me thou art not called,  
Yet do not winch (good jade) when thou art galled,  
I to the better sort my lines display,  
I pray thee then keep thou thyself away.   

The Church-Knight.  
A Churchman was there on a time I read,  
Of great estate his father being dead,  
Which got, his Syrpe-cloth he discarded quite,  
Resolving fully now to be a Knight:  
Up to the Court he goes with speed he can,  
Where he encountered a North-britaine man,  
With whom discoursing in his Evening walk,  
He spoke of Knights amongst other idle talk,  
How th'title it was worthy, and that he,  
Could well endure entitled so to be;  
For I do read (quoth he) of such as these  
Within the Ecclesiastic histories:  
What fame and honour they obtained by war,  
Which sir (believe me made me come thus far,  
That I (if means or money could obtain it)  
Might in respect to my procession gain it.  
The Britta●ne his profession did require:  
A Curate once, quoth he, of Brecknocke-shire,  
Held, I may say to you, a learned man;  
But since my father's death turned gentleman.  
I joy me in th'occasion th' Briton said,  
(Doubt not sir Priest) you shall a Knight be made;  
And you deserve't: for though Knights common are.  
" Holy church-knights, such as you be, seem rare,  
To Long-lane goes the Curate to provide,  
An ancient suit, and other things beside;  
As scarf and roses all of different colour,  
Which bought, at White-friar's stairs he takes a Sculler.  
Prepared with resolution all the sooner,  
To gain this privilege and Knightly honour;  
Which having got by long petitioning suit,  
And paid unto the Britain his first fruit,  
To's neighbours straight he hies-where they much grieve him  
" For, swearing he's a knight, they'll not believe him  
Nor would they (such incredulous men were these)  
Till he had shown discharge for all his fees.   

An Epigram alluding to the second Satire of Ariosto, where he taxeth the Clergies pride and Ambition.  

THe Church-mens doctrine is humility,  
Yet but observe them, who more proud than they,  
Whose Damask cassocks show their vanity.  
How should we then believe them what they say.  
" Since what they tax us in, themselves bewray:  
It's too too true: so that oft-times the Temple,  
(Though th'house of God, gives laymen worst example.  
Crucem & coniugem uno petimus fato,  
Hanging and marrying go by destiny.   

It is an axiom in Philosophy,  
" Hanging and marrying go by destiny;  
Both reference have unto the doom of fate,  
Both do our birth and nature calculate:  
Nor can we say these two be different far,  
Sith both have influence from one ominous star,  
Which bodes our happiness or our mischance  
According to the stars predominance;  
This made Arminus Caerthage-Ruler say  
" That with a wife he could not well away:  
For being asked why he with others share not,  
Good fortune in good wives (quoth he) I dare not,  
For if I chance to light on one that's wise,  
" She will be wilful, felfe-loved, or precise,  
" If wealthy, wanton, vowing to her friend,  
" I shall be Cocold ere a fortnight end:  
" If poor then peevish, of condition shrewd:  
" If beautiful she will be monstrous proud;  
" And if deformed, loathsome is she then,  
" And th'least of these would kill a thousand men.  
But now suppose, I could no longer tarry,  
But that I might do either worse or marry,  
And that I sought a wife to fit my turn,  
(For better 'tis to marry then to burn)  
Though many (they may thank their own good carriage)  
Are all afire the first day of their marriage:  
Why then as my position was at first,  
This marriage-day is either best or worst  
I ere was master of: for if my wife  
Be loyal as she ought, then is my life  
Made double blest in her, where I may say,  
" Each day looks cheerful like a marriage-day,  
But if self-willed untamed, headstrong, froward,  
Immodest▪ indiscreet, peevish, untoward:  
Why then through th'fury of her inbred malice,  
In climbing to her bed, I climb to th' gallows.  
Where every word that doth proceed from her  
Strangles me like an Executioner;  
Her humour is my neck-verse, which to sort  
I cannot, if I should be hanged for't,  
Her tongue's my torture, and her frisking tail,  
Flies up and down like to a wind mills sail,  
Her hands like Fuller's wheels, one up, one down,  
Which still lie malling on my costrell crown:  
Which ere I would endure to take her banging,  
I would go round to work and take a hanging:  
Since therefore Fate hath doomed this to thee,  
Hanging or wiving patient thou must be.    

An Epigram called the Cambrian Alchemist.  

THe Planet-stroken Albumazar,  
Shaves the Muses like a razor;  
Fayry-like we therefore shun them,  
cause there is no hair upon them,  
Muses lose their ornament,  
Cambria has their excrement.   

Excrement? it's true indeed,  
Hair grows from th'excess of seed,  
Which by instance small doth vary  
From th'peerless Seminary;  
Which to make her worth allowed,  
Shrouds her project in a cloud.   

In a Cloud? its ra●her shown,  
like the man that's in the Moon,  
Where our Isles Ardelio,  
Descants of Tom Trinkillo;  
Formed like one that's all in mist,  
Like a second Alchemist.   

Strange the Project was I wish  
Of this Metamorphosis;  
Nought was (if I understood)  
Good, but that it was deemed good  
By the great: o worthy feat,  
To be worthless deemed great.    

Upon divine Roscius.  
TWo famous Roscio's chanced I to espy,  
Acting a Metamorphosis, while I  
Sleep under th'covert of a shady wood,  
Where great Archyas for the umpire stood,  
Who did their several actions thus define,  
" Artful the one, the other most diviuine.   

Upon Roscius Hackney, in a Dialogue betwixt Expedition, & Endymion.  Exped. 
WHy-ho, Endymion; how th'Dormouse sleeps,  
Awake for shame, open thy wink-a-peeps!  Endim. 
What stur you make, I come with speed I can  
(and too much speed) for I have tired my man;  Exped. 
Who, Dulman?  Endim. 
Yes.  Exped. 
I thought the jade would shame us.  
And play us one horse-trick for Ignoramus.   

Upon TARBON the Country Gentleman.  
TArbon they say is melancholy grown,  
Because his wife takes physic in the town:  
Why, that's no cause; who would not hazard fair  
To leave both land and name unto his heir?  
Yea, but he doubts, (so jealous is the man)  
That th'physic works not but Physician.  
Which if he find, he swears he means to call.  
The child not Tarbon but young Urinal.  
O monstrous, by this thou'st truly show,  
Thy wife a punk, thou needs not call her so:  
Which with thy four eyes Talbon if thou find,  
I'll never trust face, conscience, nor kind.   

An Epigram called the Court-Attourney.  
WHo's you, young Stephano? why sure you jest.  
You Gallants ride with 4. coach-horse at least;  
Besides there is even in his very eye,  
A kind of Courtlike formal majesty:  
It's true; yet it is he: for you must know,  
Young Stephano is turned a Courtier now  
Which makes him complete, and whers'ere he go,  
He has his duck, or it's not worth a straw:  
But I do doubt, nor be my doubts in vain,  
The Courtier must Attorney turn again.  
And then he must be stripped of every rag,  
And fall again unto his buckram-bagge:  
If this befall, I shall be sorry for't,  
Sith john astyles gets but small grace at Court.   

An Epigram called the Windfall.  
SIr Sensual (a wanton Priest) there was  
Who made appointment with a Country lass,  
That'gainst the time from market she 'st return,  
He would keep touch and do her a good turn.  
The place where these two lovely mates should meet  
Was a vast forest unfrequented with feet  
of any passenger, save such as were  
Keepers of th'wood, amongst which a Forester,  
Upon occasion chanced to come that way,  
And heard eve-dropper-like what they did say,  
Their place of meeting, with the maids consent  
Which he resolved as quickly to prevent.  
And being under shade securely sconst,  
Which place he had elected for the nonst,  
He stays to see th'return of this same Lass,  
(which as she wished) did quickly come to pass▪  
For Maids that know not what 'tis to consent  
To a lost Maidenhead, nor what is meant  
by giving of a green gown, sooner will  
Assent to ill, because they know no ill,  
Then such as have of active pleasures store,  
For well were they experienced in't before.  
Yea such will never deal unless they smell,  
Some hope of gain, or like the trader well.  
At last the maid having her market made,  
(Perhaps far sooner than her Parents bade)  
With clothes tucked up returns with speedy pace,  
Down by the Forest to't● appointed place.  
Where'th Priest Sir sensual lay all this while,  
That he the Maid might of her gem beguile.  
If you had seen what meeting there was then,  
Betwixt these two, you would have you'd no men  
Of any rank or order were so good.  
As Church-professors unto womanhood.  
So humble was the prelate, as to please.  
The shamefast maid, he oft fell on his knees.  
While mumbling pater nosters on her lips,  
Down fell his breeches from his naked hips.  
And all this while poor soul she stood stock still,  
Not thinking (on my conscience) good or ill.  
At last the jolly Priest (when all was shown,  
That he could show) wiled th'maid to lay her down▪  
Upon a shady bank, which with all sorts,  
Of flowers was chequered fit for Venus' sports.  
She (though she were resolved no ill could be  
By lying down, yet in her modesty)  
Would not unto his motion so assent,  
Yet let him blow her down she was content.  
The short-breathed Priest (for he was wondrous fat)  
And stuffed withal, makes me no bones of that,  
But Aeolus-like pufs up his cheeks well grown,  
And he no sooner blows than she was down.  
The Forester who all this time had stood,  
Under a shady covert of the wood,  
Steps in, when'th Priest his shriving should begin,  
Saying all windfalls they are due to him.  
Many such Priests ancient records do show,  
And present times may show as many now.   

Another Epigram called, A Cuckold with a witness.  
A Wily wench there was (as I have read)  
Who used to capricorn her husband's head,  
Which he suspecting, lay in private wait,  
To catch the knave, and keep his wife more straight.  
But all in vain: they day by day did mate it,  
Yet could his four eyes never take them at it.  
This subtle wench perceiving how they should  
At last prevented be, do all they could:  
For now Italian-like her hus●and grew,  
Horn-mad I wish, and kept her in a Mew.  
Invented a trick, which to accomplish better,  
Unto her friend she closely sent a letter,  
And thus it was; Friend you shall know by me,  
My husband keeps me far more narrowly,  
Then he was wont, so as to tell you true,  
You cannot come to me: nor I to you.  
Yet spite of his eyes and as many more,  
We'll use those pleasures which we used before:  
Only be wise, and second what I wish:  
Which to express (my friend) know this it is.  
My husband as he hates the horn to wear,  
Of all the Badges forth, so fears h●'th Bear,  
Mo●e then all other Beasts which do frequent  
The heathy Forests spacious continent.  
If thou wilt right me then, and pepper him,  
Cover thy servant in a false bears skin.  
And come to morrow, as thou used before.  
Tying thy servant to my chamber door.  
After this acquaint direction he attired  
His man in bearskin as she had desired  
Entering the chamber he received is  
With many a smile, back●fall▪ and sweetened kiss▪  
For they're secure, of all that was before,  
Having a Bear that kept the Buff from door.  
The wittal fool no sooner inkling had,  
Then up the stairs he ran as he were mad.  
But seeing none but th' Bear to entertain him,  
Of Horns he never after did complain him.   

In Romanum Mnestorem.  
IT chanced two Roman Converts on a day,  
For pater noster at the Cards to play;  
She moped, he popped; his popping could not get her,  
" For she thought popping elsewher had been fitter.  
Thus he went home no wiser than he came,  
Sith popping was the Puppies chiefest game.   

In Poetam Hippodramum. OR Post-riding Poet.  
IT took a Poet once I'th' head to post,  
For what I know not, but I'm sure it cost  
His purse far more (as I have heard soms say)  
Then ere his Muse was able to repay.   

In Numularium antiphylon.  
CAsh-coind? its true; but he intends to be  
The stamper of that Coin is due to me.  
Pray thee (my friend) forbear to set it on,  
(My stamp I mean) till I have thoroughly done:  
And I protest to thee, when I have ended,  
I'll yield to thee, if she say thou canst mend it.   

In Romanum Sacerdotem.  
A Roman Priest came to absolve a Virgin by the way,  
As he in his Procession went: where he resolved to stay  
A night. For what? not to absolve the tender Virgin● sin,  
But as a Ghostly Father's wont, to let more errors in:  
The door was shut, the candle out, for I would have you mark,  
A carnal Father best absolves a Virgin in the dark:  
Which absolution so increased, in zeal and purity,  
As within six and forty weeks it grew a Tympany,  
A girl forsooth, baptised joan, nor is it any shame,  
For th' wench in time may prove Pope joan the second of that name.   

In Phylaetum.  
PHylaetus writing lovelines on a day,  
A Rat came in and stole his lines away.  
Phyletus slept on still, and minded ●ot  
While th'hungry Rat eat up the lines he wrote;  
If I were to be judge, as much may be,  
The Rat should be in love, Phyletus free,  
That seeing th'saucy Rat to love enthralled,  
Love-bayne hereafter might be Rats-baine called.   

An Epigram called the Couriter.  
NOW heaven preserve mine eyesight what is here?  
A man made up in Wainscot? now I swear,  
I took him for some coloss; sure I err,  
This is not he: yes: this's the Courtier,  
Brau● Pun-tevallo, for those arms he bears,  
(An Ass head rampant) and that chain he wears,  
By blessed Saint Martin, do descry it's he,  
Well, i'll observe his carriage narrowly.  
What makes him go so stiff, has he the gout?  
No, but a fire in's hams that went not out  
These seven years to my knowledge: than it has  
Begun (it seems 'bout time) when th'glass-work wa●  
It's true, it did so, I have heard some say,  
He has a pleasant wit, he has one way  
A pretty thriving wit, can make a leg,  
And hearken out what office he may beg.  
Can look as big and burly on such men,  
(Poor Gnats) that come for to petition him,  
As Giants in a pageant, can protest,  
For mere formality, laugh at a jest,  
(Without conceiving on't) has wit enough,  
To put good close on, bear his face in's ruff.  
Like a brave sprightly Spaniard, will not let,  
With some new minted oaths to pay his debt,  
And can dispense with them, nor does he more,  
In this, than what his Elders did before.  
With truth (in complement) he seldom meets,  
For naked truth with Eve lies without sheets,  
And he endures not that, nor can incline,  
To such a motion, but in progress time.  
He cannot blush (no more can women now)  
Till that their pretty painter tell them how.  
He has a kind of vain in sonnetting,  
Purchased by brocage or by pilse●ing,  
With which he woos his mistress, he will set,  
His face to any fashion, and will bet,  
Wagers on Lady's honours: having forgotten  
Wha● he should speak, he's fingering his button,  
Or some such trifling action, till he store  
himself with wit, which he had lost before:  
Nor did that Moral err, who wisely would,  
Compare a Courtier's wit to th'Marigold.  
It opens with the Sun, but being set  
The Mari-gold shuts up, so doth his wit.  
The Marigold's most cheered by midday sun,  
So's he, whence ●'st, he lies in bed till noon.  
Occasion is his Cupid, lust his lure,  
Pleasure his Pander, dalliance his whore,  
He he's but one receipt of making love,  
And being put out, he cannot speak, nor move,  
But like a liue-les●e image, seems to be,  
Till by good hap his speech recovered be.  
He smells of Complement, in presence fair,  
And uses oft to wear bracelets of hair,  
Swearing they came from such, but 'tis not so,  
For 'twas some tyrewoman he took them fro.  
The Ornaments which he admires are these,  
To faun, to observe times, to court, to please,  
To make strange faces, sleek his prefumed skin,  
Starch his Mouchatoes, and forget his sin.  
To dance, to dice, to congee, to salute,  
To stamp, to stalk, to finger well a lute.  
To tremble at a Cannon when it shoots,  
To like, dislike, and fill his head with doubts.  
To be in passion, wind his careless arms,  
To ply his Mistress with delightful charms.  
To be for all, yet ignorant in all,  
To be disguised, and strange fantastical:  
Briefly to be, what all his kind have been,  
Seem what they be not, be what least they seem.  
Such is my Puntavallo, and in time  
No question but he'll prove true Pantomime,  
To imitate all forms, shapes, habits, tynes  
Suiting the Court, and sorting his desires,  
And then what th' Satire said, shall well appear:  
The Devil is the perfects Courtier.  
Having my complete Courtier thus defined,  
I have no more that I can call to mind,  
" Save what is common, and is known to all,  
" That Courtiers as the tide do rise and fall,  
So I will end with what I have writ before,  
" Till the'next tide come, and then I will write more.   

Upon his much honoured friend Master William Ascam, and his selected Temple.  
Whose Anagram is produced by the Poet.  

William Ascam.  
— Sum Via Luci— Alma.   

Hoc Anagramma tenes Gulielmi)— Sum via Luci  
Alma, per aethereos qua iuuatire locos.  
Quae via? virtutis via lactea, quae tibi nota est:  
Nec minor Exemplis Gloria parta tuis.    

Epigram.  

In Templo, Venerem Spectet  
Qui amat Venerem.   

Ask him what Temple most delighteth him,  
And he'll reply, that Temple thou art in.   

Nec Venus est quae nomen habet veneris, sed Amica  
Casta deae Arcadia, Deli● nomen habet, etc.  
Ask him what Prayers should in that Temple be,  
And he'll reply, what prayers best liketh thee▪  
Ask him what Temple yields him most content,  
And he'll reply thy Temple, there's his Saint.  
Ask him what Temple's purer than above.  
He'l● say thy Temple: there's the Queen of Love;  
Then let me ask your judgement is't not fit,  
That Temple honour him, that honours it?   

Posies upon bracelets.  
As love gives life to every part,  
So this gives life unto my heart:  
This chastely lies, and lives with me,  
O that I might do so with thee?   

Another.  
How might I triumph in my bliss;  
If love were where my Bracelet is.  
For than should love do no such harm  
To wring my heart, but wreath my arm.    

An Eglogue between Billie and jockey called the Mushroom.  jockey. 
WHou Billie whou, what fair has thou been at?  
Thouse be so trim, I much torken at:  
For weal I wait, last time I met with thee,  
Thou hardly had a lap to swedle thee.  
Pray thee (good bill,) tell me swith and soon,  
jockey may do what Billy late has done.  Billie. 
What jockey (lither lurden) less for uvea,  
Thou'st be so tattert, but there's many sea,  
That ill can wappe it: but be vised by me,  
And thou or long shall glish in bravery.  
Swatt on thy tail man, here's a blythy place,  
And i'll ensure thee how I got this grace. 
* Ecloge apud Luciaenum extat quae hoc titulo plane inscribitur, Mirica nimrium, quam Fung●m esse existimo, intempestive orientem ●rentemque, etc. Eo nomine Romanos Sabini appellavert, Gallos' Romani, Tuscos Icali, in fimo nempe genere, & ig●ota gen●●●r●os, subitoque provectos, etc.   jockey. 
Mickle may bill thrive, as he's begun,  
My lugges are lithing, bill now jog on  Billy. 
Then hear me jockey. 'Bout mid-belten 'twas  
Or ●se bethought awrang, when I mut pass,  
o'er th'Breamy bourn, and (weal I traw) I had,  
Small gear (at that tide) but a lether-bagge,  
A Motley jacket, an a s●op of blue,  
It was my Fadders, I must tell thee true.  
A long youd I, (and langer than thoule say)  
And we'll, I knew not whether, ne what way,  
Fute-sare I was, for bill shoes had neane,  
But an and pair with him, and they were gane.  
Nor hose-legs (weal I wait) but skoggers and,  
That hardly happed poor Bills legs fra c●ud.  
Hate was my weasi●, empty was my maw,  
And nane I met with, I could ken or knaw,  
So uncath was the get (as but for shame)  
I had comed back tooth place fra whein I came,  
For siler had I scant, nor less nor mare,  
Then three Bawbees, I'll tell thee all my stare.  
But lithe me jockey (after many a mile)  
At last I happed to light upon an I'll,  
But Come and full a gear, and full a store,  
For bill never met with like before,  
Sae Greathy was the place where I was driven  
That I me sicker thought I was in Heaven.  
But weal Isee sure they that this Island kept,  
Were by our Whilom Father's Angels cleped.  
And weal they might be so, for weal I wait,  
They were fi●e men, and men of much state.  
Had lusty husses (that were trick and trim,)  
Cud weal done on their gear, with every pin.  
here stood I musing long full heavily,  
Till jockey wha dost think speard up to me.  jockey. 
Wha bill mote that be?  bill. 
Ane wha thou ken.  
Cand one, we reached on meanly, but now seen,  
He has the prick and preze I'll say to thee.  jockey. 
Was it not Lobby?  bill. 
jockey it was he.  
But now the much Lurden is so great,  
Their blessed by God, that may with Lobby speak.  
By God's bread jockey, he so gaish was,  
I thought no boot to speak, but let him pass,  
And had done so, but Lobby was so kind.  
To come to me, and leave his men behind.  
Great chat we had, and many that were nigh,  
Musd he would chat with sick an even as I.  
But blithe was Lobby, and so meek he was,  
That he unhorsed sat by me on the grass,  
Lang did we talk of this thing and of that,  
A jug, a Peggy, and a nut-brown Kate,  
A Crowd the Piper, and the Fiddler Twang,  
And many sick things, as we lain along.  
Ablangst the leave, this Council gave he me,  
That made me weal to leave, so may it thee.  
Billie (quoth Lobby) if thoule prosper here,  
Thou must be bald, and learn to bandon fear,  
Thou must not blush, nor colour change for aught,  
Though th'plea thou hast in hand be near so nought.  
Thou must not take petition (lithen me)  
Nor entertain him, till thou take thy fee,  
And (weal I warn thee) better way thou thrive,  
If thy hand open be to awe that give.  
Get me some prollers, they are best of all,  
To make thee wet, when some good office falls,  
Or a barre-hoisted Lawyer that can see,  
With his four eyen where and concealments be,  
But of awe things I must forewarn thee hence,  
To have small dealing with a Conscience.  
That will undo thee (Billy) look to one,  
Poor men have Conscience, but rich men have nane.  
Amongst other things listen to what I say,  
For I in brief will speak now what I may.  
In T●ucria here (this City where there be)  
Many a man will have an eye of thee,  
Gain me Acquaintance: it's the spring of life,  
And know thou mayst a Tradesman by his Wife.  
Be sicker on her Billye, she it is  
Can open her husband's Casket with a kiss.  
Dive me into a Mercer's Book, and say,  
Thou'lt pay on sick a time, but do not pay.  
Chauke me on Vintners, and for awe thy score,  
Let great words pay for awe, still run on more.  
Be stately Billy (and I do thee read)  
Thou must now throw away thy country weed.  
For skoggers, hozen of the Naples twine,  
For thy blue slop, sick a made breeke as mine:  
For thy and motley jacket, thou must wear,  
A cloth a silver, sick as I have here.  
Then must thou look big (what way ere thou pass)  
As if that Billy were not th' man he was.  
Then learn me Billy some and Pedigree,  
No matter though't belong not unto thee,  
And say thy Grandsire was a Duke at least,  
And first inventor of Saint galloways feast.  
Maintain me leeing in a Livery,  
For that's the first means that must honour thee:  
Let her be Page-like, at thy elbow still,  
For when thou canst not do it, leeing will,  
Let Suitors dance Attendance, lithen me,  
And quick dispatch, be it thine enemy.  
Take fees for expedition, for of awe,  
Suits hastily ended wreak our overthrow.  
Get me an Herald (weal I what) o'th' best,  
That may for bill find some pretty Crest,  
A ●at, a pismire, or a Butterfly,  
A Cornish Chuck, a Parrot, or a Pie,  
A nimble Squirrel or a picke-a tree,  
A weasel, Urchin, or a Bumble Bee.  
Or if of plants, my bill will haeve one,  
He may full swithly mange these choose him one.  
The Brier, the haw-thorne: or the Privet bush,  
The Osire, Cypress, or where th'merry Thrush,  
Sings out her Fa, lafoy, lafoy, but nane there be,  
" That like the Mushroom bill fitteth thee,  
Her growth is sudden, bill so is thine,  
Then take the Mushroom, it's a Crest of mine.  
Mare need I not say, keep but weal my reed,  
And siker I see, thou cannot choose but speed.  
With that he twined frame, and left me there,  
Where I with much cark, and much Care,  
Bustling now up now down, at last me yode,  
To ply my lesson weal I understood,  
And in a pretty while I learned to be,  
That cunning Clerk that he awarded me.  
Deftly could I trick up me sell, and trim,  
Me featly fine, in every leg and limb,  
We'll cud I mark my name in merchants books,  
Foe we'll I wait, wha ere he be, that looks,  
I'll there in black and white, and weal I may,  
For he is said to awe that means to pay.  
Not a petition would I listen over,  
Till Billie had same chink in's fist before.  
Not a rich much lozel could there be,  
That had a plea but had his path by me.  
And sine I sau as Lobby teld believe,  
That he that had a conscience could not thrive.  
I drove the Haggard frame, fine whilk time,  
jockey thou sees how Billie 'gins to shine.  jockey, 
And long may Billie shine, but sayne to me  
Fare awe our Coustrils' house as week as thee,  Billie. 
jockey they do, nor need thou t'arken out,  
For we will feed, wha ever famish for't:  
O it's a place so full of lovisance,  
Play but thy round the Islanders will dance.  
Ladies & Lordings, Swain lines with their swains,  
Will trimly trip it o'er the levy plains.  
And weal I what that jockey ance could play,  
For I have heard him,—  jockey 
And so Billie may.  Billie. 
Then tune thy chanter up and go with me,  
Come blithely on,—  jockey. 
jockey does follow thee.   

A Panegirick Emblem, Entitled, Saint George for England.  
The Argument of the Emblem.  
From whence the English anciently derived this Saint's canonisation, his orders, inauguration— of Sigismond, Emperor of Almain: and his present to Henry the fifth. The institution of this order where, the solemnizing where: the several games, exercises, Races, and Martial trials auspiciously begun with that Saint.— And the like of Honour and advancement.— A comparison had between Perseus' son to jupiter and Danae; who preserved Andromoda from the sea monster, and Saint George, who slew the Dragon. The description of Perseus, and of Saint George: concluding with a victorious Paean to Saint George.  
The Emblem  
Hail to thy shrine thou Saint of Albion,  
Who had thy ancient consecration  
From thy religious mannagements, as far  
Dispersed, as Turk or Christian planted are,  
Thou art the Saint which we in war do use,  
Hoping by thee to be auspicious.  
Yet void of superstition we impart,  
Sole laud to him, whose noble Saint thou art.  
Nor lose we th' name of th' Almain Sigismond,  
By whom thy precious Relics first were found.  
And here presented as a royal gift  
To England's Mirror, Henry the fifth.  
Since when thy order is solemnized,  
At Windsor, where a part of thee is said  
To be interred: thrice happy monument,  
To cover part of one so eminent.  
So Saintly virtuous as no honour can,  
" Give thee thy due, as only due to man.  
O may thy institution honoured be,  
By true deserts, and due solemnity.  
Nor whom thy order doth inaugurate,  
May they by vice stand subject unto hate.  
But so even weighed in all their actions here,  
" As George's Knights may after Saints appear:  
Which they shall be, by showing fervent zeal  
Unto the Church, love to the commonweal.  
In all our games and pastimes several,  
Ever on George as on our Saint we call:  
For by that name the ancients understood,  
Their Fortune could not choose but to be good,  
As Tournaments, justs, Barrier's, and the rest,  
In which his name was evermore expressed.  
In Races too these present times afford  
Instances store, Saint George he gives the word.  
So as it was (as common stories tell)  
To say Saint George, as say God speed you well.  
In Martial trials when our armies met,  
His name would spirit in our men beget,  
" Heightening their courage, perils passing through,  
" Standing dissolved before a Cannon's mouth.  
" Out-bearing danger, and with violent breath  
" Stand at defiance 'gainst the threats of death.  
Marching through horror they would boldly pass,  
(As for pale fear, they knew not what it was)  
Which may be instanced in that holy war,  
Where those that lost their lives canonised are  
In leaves of perpetuity: I mean,  
In the regaining of jerusalem,  
Where those renowned Champions enterprist,  
For the due honour of their Saviour Christ.  
Either to win that City (maugre th'vaunts  
Of all those hellish god less miscreants,)  
Or if they could not th' City so surprise,  
Resolved they were their lives to sacrifice;  
Even than I say when those that Marshaled them,  
Could not withhold from flight their recreant men;  
" Saint George appeared in a submissive show,  
" Wishing them not to wrong their Country so:  
And though a ghost (and therefore less believed;  
Yet was his moving presence so received  
As none to fight it out resolved more,  
Then such as readiest were to fly before.  
Up went their scaling-ladders to displant  
Th'abhorred offspring of the miscreant,  
And ever as some danger they espied,  
God and St George for England still they cried.  
And how successive that renowned war  
Was to those Christians, which enroled are  
In an eternal register, may well appear  
" By Godfrey Bulloyne who was styled there  
" King of jerusalem, yet as it's shown,  
" By ancient stories, would receive no crown,  
" Thinkinged unfit that it should be rehearsed,  
" Tha● where his master's head with thorns was pierced,  
He that his servant was should be so bold,  
As have his head girt with a crown of gold.  
What fame in foreign coasts this Hero got,  
The lake 
m Sylene the pond or lake where the Dragon w●s.  Silene shows, if we should not;  
Where in the rescue of a lovely Maid,  
A fearful Dragon he discomfited,  
So as we have portrayed to every view,  
On signs of Innes-how George the Dragon slew;  
Which story to express were too too long,  
Being a subject for each fiddlers song:  
" Yet cause there is (I cannot will nor choose)  
Comparison 'twixt him and Perseus,  
Who son to jove and show restained Dana●▪  
In rescue of the fair Andromade,  
Encountered that sea●monster; I'll explain  
Each attribute of their peculiar fame:  
" And then conferring them one with the other,  
" Collect whose best their actions laid together.  
And first for Perseus; great I must confess,  
He was in name, his birth infers no less  
Being Ioues son, yet can he no way shun  
The name of Bastard, though he were his son:  
Deflowered his mother was— and in a shower  
Of gold, to show how gold has sovereign power,  
T'unlock the fort of fancy, and how soon  
" Women are won, when golden baits are shown.  
Long jove had wooed and yet he could not win  
What he desired, till gold received him in,  
Which seems by easy consequence to prove,  
" Gifts be the gives that binds the hands of love.  
Thus sprung the noble Perseus, who in time  
" To propagate the honour of that line  
From whence he came, and that it might be said,  
That he from jove was rightly fathered  
took on him strange adventures; as to right  
" Injured Ladies by a single fight,  
" Encounter Giants, rescue men distressed,  
In each where of his glory was expressed:  
" For valiant & more worthy they do show them,  
" That wrongs redress, than such as use to do them,  
But th'first and best attempt he did on Earth,  
" Was, to wipe off th'blemish of his birth,  
And th'stain of his corrupted mother's honour,  
Which blushes blazed who ever looked upon her.  
" On then along imagined it may be  
Went he to th'rescue of Andromade;  
Who now was marked for death, and brought to th' shore  
Where many maids had been devoured before,  
By a sea-monster: here the Virgin stood,  
To free her Country with her guiltless blood,  
Whom Perseus (as he coasted by that way)  
No sooner viewed than he began to say.  
Fair Virgin (than he wept) impart to us  
What rude unhallowed hand hath used thee thus  
And by the honour of my heavenly Sire  
What ere he be he shall receive his hire,  
Giant or Monster in the earth or Sea,  
Revenged he shall-sweete Virgin tell it me.  
Kind Sir (quoth she) and then she staid her breath  
As one addressed to meditate of death,  
Treat not with me of life, nor ask who 'tis  
Giant or Monster that's the cause of this,  
Only know this (thou gentle Knight) that I  
" Am doomed to death, and I' me resolved to die.  
To die (fair Maid quoth he)? if't be thy fate,  
I'll sympathise with thee in equal state  
And die with thee: only give grief a tongue,  
To tell me who's the Author of thy wrong:  
Know then (said he) I am that hapless she,  
The wretched, pitied, poor Andromade,  
Who here am left of friends, bereft of all  
To be a prey unto a ravenous whale:  
Many have suffered ere it came to me,  
No● is my lot and welcome it shall be,  
To expiate with my unstained blood  
The Monster's wrath and do my country good;  
As she spoke this up from the Ocean  
Came that devouring vast Leviathan,  
Sweeping along the shore, which being spied;  
Good sir retire the noble Damsel cried,  
Yonder he comes for love of honour fly,  
It's I am doomed, then let me only die.  
But Perseus (one better tempered,  
Then to behold a Virgin slaughtered,  
Without assayed revenge) did straight begin  
With manlike valour to encounter him,  
Doubtful the skirmish was on either side,  
(While th'maid a sad spectator did abide)  
Wooing with tears which from her cheeks did flow  
That jove would give this Monster th'overthrow;  
At last her prayers and tears prevailed so well,  
As under Perseus' feet the Monster fell;  
Whence came it (as the story doth proceed)  
The Virgin and her Country bo●h were freed:  
Which to requite (in guerdon of her life)  
She gave herself to Perseus as wife,  
" Whom he receiu'd-ô he did ill in this,  
" Sith by the Ancient it recorded is,  
Before that Perseus to her rescue came,  
She was espoused to another man  
" By name Vax●dor, (o it was a sin  
To marry her that was not dew to him:)  
And better had 't been to sustain her fate,  
" Then by such breach of faith to violate  
Her former Spousals-which unjust offence  
" Gods may wink at but never will dispense:  
Yea to a barren Rock though she were tied,  
Yet better 'twas then to be made a Bride  
" To an usurped Bed, for that did lay,  
" That stain on her, time cannot wipe away.  
Thus have you heard what noble Perseus was  
With greatest dangers that his worth did pass,  
The imminence whereof merits due praise,  
" And such a Poet as deserves the bay:  
Laurel and Myrtle-though his Nuptial knot  
" Lost him more fame than ere his valour got:  
" For so deprau'd's the Nature of our will,  
" What's good we lain, what's ill we harp on still.  
Now to thy English Saint, my Muse repair,  
And limb him so, that when thou shalt compare  
These two: He Perseus may outstrip as far,  
As sun the Moon, or th'moon a twinkling star.  
GEORGE now enstiled the Saint of Albion,  
By lineage was a Capadocian;  
Whose 
n The Etymology of GEORGE from Gera and Gion, Warlike, or valiant.  valour was expressed in all his time,  
That virtue might in every action shine,  
Which to induce belief by moving sense,  
I will produce his best description thence,  
Both for th'resemblance which hath ever been,  
Twixt the renowned Perseus and him:  
As also to make good, that not one stain  
" Eclipsed that glory which his acts did gain  
All which by instance seconded shall be  
" Perseus was great yet George more great than he.  
Tutching that Dragon on Sylenes shore,  
I have in part rela●ed it before:  
Yet but as shadows do resemblance make,  
Unto the substance and material shape,  
Digressively I only seemed to glance,  
At th'act itself, not at the circumstance:  
Know then this noble Champion hearing one,  
Along his travail making piteous moan,  
In mere remorse drew nearer to the noise,  
" Till he perceived it was a Lady's voice,  
Who in a Virgin-milky white arrayed,  
Showed by her habit that she was a Maid;  
Careless her hair hung dower, and in her look,  
Her woes were writ as in a Table book:  
Warm-trickling tears came streaming from her eyes▪  
Sighs from her heart, and from her accent cries.  
Tied was she fast unto a pitched stake,  
Bounding on Sylen's Dragon-haunted lake,  
All which expressed without a Character  
The woeful state which did environ her:  
Saint George observed her tears, and from his eyes  
Her tears by his find their renewed supplies,  
Both vie as for a wager which to win,  
" The more she wept, the more she forced him:  
At last with modest haviour in relief,  
Of her distress, he thus alcaide her grief.  
" Sorrowful Lady if griefs lesne dare,  
When those that pity griefs receige their share,  
Impart your sorrows to me, and in lieu,  
" If right I cannot, I will pity you.  
Alas (sweet youth quoth she) pit●le's too late,  
When my d●sease is grown so desperate,  
Yet do I thank thee for thy love to me,  
That never yet deserved so much of thee:  
" Pray thee begun, such friendship I'll not try,  
To see thy death one is ●nowe to die,  
And I am she,- cross not the will of Fate,  
" Better's to lose one than a double state:  
Be gone I say do not the time foreslowe,  
" Perish I must of force, so needs not thou.  
Imminent horror would admit no more;  
For now the Dragon from Sylenes shore  
Came spitting loathsome venom all about,  
Which blasted trees and dried up their root,  
St George the Dragon had no sooner viewed,  
Then fresh supplies of spirit was renewed  
In his unmatched breast: him he assails,  
And though o'ermatched his spirit never fails  
Till he subdued him: and as some aver,  
He tied him fast and made him follow her  
Unto her father's palace, where we read  
In public triumph he cut off his head.  
Here may we see that act of Perseus  
Equalled by George and made more glorious  
In that he aimed no further nor was feed  
" To put his feet into another's bed,  
" His conquest it was temperate and just,  
Not stained with blemish of defaming lust  
For no attempt used he to undertake,  
But for true honour and for virtues sake.   

A Victorious Paean to our Albion's St, alluding to all noble spirits, native assumers of his Honour & Order.  

Iö Pean then must we  
Give St George the victory:  
Whose desert  
Graced each part;  
Where so ere he used to be,  
None more graced, or loved than he.   

Perseus though his renown,  
Did to all the world come;  
Yet one stain,  
Dimmed his same:  
But the world's spacious room,  
Shrines St George in honour's tomb.    

A Satire called the Coniborrowe.  
NOw in the name of fate what Saint is she,  
That keeps a shop of public Brothelry?  
Harbours the sharking Lawyer for his pence,  
And Martir-like consumes his evidence?  
Nusles my damned Atheist, makes him curse  
Nature and fortune, that his thin-lined purse  
Should be deprived of crowns: do you ask what St?  
This Saint was sent from th'fiery Regiment.  
A Sodome-apple, a lascivious stain  
To virtues habit, or a whore in grain,  
A sucke-blood, Hyene, feigning Crocodile  
Worse than the monster bred on th'banks of Nile,  
A purple Strumpet, Gangrene to the state,  
Earths-curse, hels-blisse, soules-soile, & Angels hate.  
Smoothed Damnation, smothered infamy,  
Horror to Age, and youth's calamity,  
Pritty-faced devil of a ginger pace,  
Graceless in all save that her name is Grace,  
Soules-running ulcer that infects the heart,  
With painting, pur●●ing and a face of Art,  
Star blasting honour, virtues foe, expressed  
By hating where she seems to fancy best.  
Vow-breaking perjure, that herself adorns,  
With thousand fashions, and as many forms.  
Creature of her own making, hollow trunk,  
A Christian Paganized with name of Punk.  
A ●●ll, a hell, where she'll no others have,  
The common Palliard-Pandor, Bawd, or slave,  
A cage of unclean birds, which is possessed,  
Of none save such as will de●le their nest.  
Where fries of Hell hounds never come abroad,  
But in that earthly Tophet make abode.  
Where bankrupt Factors to maintain a state,  
Forlorn (heaven knows) and wholly desperate,  
Tur●e valiant Bolts, Pimps, Haxtars, roaring boys,  
Till fleshed in bload, counting but murders ●oyes,  
Are forced in th' end a doleful Psalm to sing,  
Going to Heaven by Derick in a string.  
It's you damned prostitutes that soil this land,  
With all pollutions, haling down the hand  
Of vengeance and subversion on the State,  
Making her flowery borders desolate.  
It's you that ruin ancient families,  
Occasion bloodshed, pillage, perjuries.  
It's you that make the wicked prodigal,  
Strips him of fortune, heritance, and all,  
It's you that makes new Troy with factions bleed,  
As much or more than ever old Troy did.  
It's you (sin-branded wantonness) brings decay,  
To public states. It's you that hate the day,  
But honour night: where every female sinner  
Resembles th' Moon, that has a man within her.  
Lascivious Burrowes, where there nothing are,  
But ●oused, sullied, and over jaded ware.  
No music but despair, no other note,  
Save some French language from a profane throat▪  
Noah other Accent than the voice of hell,  
Where Stygian Circe mumbles over her spell  
Shakes her pox-eaten joints, and sends for spies,  
To gain her traders two sin tempting eyes.  
Where she in praise and ho●our of her trade  
Says, that the Stews were in th' beginning made,  
For the advancement of a public good,  
And well it may, if rightly understood:  
For if in pleasures there such bitters be,  
As still repentance lackeys vanity?  
If lust that's called by th' sensual Epicure,  
The best of moving pleasures, and the lure,  
That for the instance makes our organs rise,  
Thinking that please we're in is Paradise.  
If she (I say) bring forth no fruit at all,  
Save news from'th spital, or the Hospital.  
Dry rheums, catarches, diseases of despair,  
Puritane-sniveling, falling of the hair.  
Aches in the joints, and ringworm in the face▪  
Cramps in the nerves, fire in the privy place.  
Racking the sinews, burning of the gall,  
Searing the veins, and bowels most of all:  
Drying the head, which nature's's wont to feed,  
Sucking the blood, whence all distempers breed.  
If best of pleasures have no other end,  
'Mongst earth's delights, them have we cause t'extend,  
Our pure affections to an higher aim,  
Then to corrupt the honour of our name.  
For present appetite: I thank thee whore,  
Thou hast instructed me to have a power  
Over my sense by reason rectified,  
And hast well near my senses mortified.  
I know thy habit▪ (and I once have sworn,  
But now recant it) that no earthy form  
Was of like composition, but conceiving,  
That th' period of thy pleasure was in having,  
And that thy lust was but desire of gain,  
I curbed myself that I should be so vain.  
To spend my state, my stock, my name, my nature,  
On such a brittle fickle, faithless creature.  
Fond was my judgement when my reason strayed,  
To soil the honoured title of a maid,  
With brothel greeting, or a painted trunk,  
A rotten Tomb, a Basilisk, a Punk.  
For tell me whore? what bewty's in thee shown,  
Or moving part that thou canst says thine own?  
The blush that's on thy cheek I know is made  
Byth' Painter's hand, and not by nature laid:  
And that same rosie-red, and lily white,  
Which seems t' include a volume of delight.  
Is no more thine, then as it may be said;  
Fair is the wain skote when it's varnished.  
Y●a I have heard some of thy consorts say,  
Thy night-face is not that thou wear'st by day.  
But of a different form, which understood,  
Rightly implies too faces in one hood.  
Now my (prodigious faery) that canst take,  
Upon occasion a contrary shape.  
Thou that canst vary habits and delight,  
To wear by day what thou putst of at night.  
Thou that with tempting motives of despair,  
Braiding the net-like tresses of thy hair,  
Smoothing thy brazed front, oiling thy skin,  
Taking a truce with Satan, and with sin.  
How canst thou think that I will lose the light,  
Of my dear soul, to please mine appetite?  
How canst thou think that for a moment's sweet,  
Wherein the height of pleasures, sorrows meet.  
I will engage that essence of delight  
For time eternal,, measure infinite?  
How canst thou think I am so void of sense,  
Or blind, as not to know thy impudence?  
True, I was blind, when thy sin- Siren voice,  
Made me despise myself, and make a choice  
Of souls seducing Error: I was blind,  
When I did hope contented joys to find  
In so profane a cover: Blind was I,  
When I expected aught but vanity.  
In such an odious harbour: blind I was  
To look for virtue in so vile a case.  
But now the glorious essence of my soul  
Tells me, For all thy virtue thou art foul.  
Spotted with Ermines, and that vanity,  
Of which tha● 't proud, is like a leprosy.  
Which runs to every vain, whose very breath,  
Poisons the toucher with infectious death.  
For what's complexion if I should speak true,  
(That which thou wea●s I mean) but what the jew  
Of loathsome compositions ' ●vsd to make,  
As th'fat of Serpents, and the slough of snake's,  
With cursed spittle or phlegm commixed is,  
And canst thou think this face deserves a kiss?  
No, odious Lecher that bes●obbered face,  
That entertains no sign nor stamp of grace,  
That sin-reflecting eye, whose piercings are,  
Wounds to the soul, and to the mind a care,  
That artificial blush, that painted check,  
Which never seeks, what womanhood should seek,  
That whorish look drained from a wanton mind,  
Shall make me hate, where I was once inclined,  
Shall make me hate? O that I did not hate,  
Before this time: but sorrow's near too late,  
If fervent, and may I excluded be,  
If my resolves proceed not inwardly.  
Farewell, but well I doubt thou canst not far,  
So long as 〈◊〉 dost lodge in this despair:  
Prevent me then the cause, and thou shalt see,  
The effect thereof will soon prevented be:  
Till then adieu: for till that time I swear it,  
Thy Connie-burrow is not for my Ferret.   

Upon a Poet's Palfrey, lying in Lavender, for the discharge of his Provender.  
An Epigram.  

IF I had lined but in King Richard's days,  
Who in his heat of passion, midst the force  
Of his Assailants troubled many ways  
Crying A horse, a Kingdom for a horse.  
O than my horse which now at Livery stays.  
" Had been set free, where now he's forced to stand  
" And like to fall into the Ostlers hand.   

If I had lived in Agamemnon's time,  
Who was the leader of the Myrmidons,  
Mounting a fit as wantoness in their prime,  
Of frolic youth, planting the Grecians  
In their due order, than this horse of mine,  
" Had not been thus confined, for there he might,  
" Have shown himself, and done his master right.   

If I had lived when Pallas horse was made,  
Aptly contrived for th'ruin of poor Troy  
O then there had been doings for my jade,  
For he had been sole author of annoy,  
Unto the Troyans': well as I have said,  
" He might be Pallas horse in leg and limb,  
" Being so near proportioned unto him.   

If I had lived in Pasiphaes' reign,  
That lusty Lass, in pleasure ever full,  
And perfect dalliance: O I blessed had been,  
" She sure would love a horse, that loved a Bull,  
And better might it with her honour seem.  
" A bull's too fierce, a horse more modest aye,  
" Th'one routs and roars, the others answers neigh.   

If I had lived in Alexander's age,  
Crowning my youth amongst his triumphant heirs,  
O then that prince, who in his heat of rage,  
Bad th'M●cedons get stallions for their Mares,  
More lively and more likely would not gauge,  
" His love for nought, to such as 'mongst the rest,  
" Would bring a Stallion that could do with best.   

If I had lived amongst th'Amazonites,  
Those Warlike champions, monuments of Fame,  
Trophies of Honour friends to choice delights,  
Who much desired to propagate, their name,  
" And therefore wished that they so many nights.  
" Might have free use with men, in due remorse,  
For want of men would take them to my horse.   

If I had lived in Phaeton his days,  
When with ungiddy course he ruled the Sun,  
O then my Palfrey had been of great prize,  
For he's not head strong, nor would have outrun,  
His fellow-Horses, but with gentler pace,  
As soft and easy as the nimble wind.  
He would with hakney pace lagged on behind.   

If I had lived when th'war of Agincourt,  
Burnished with shields as bright as Diamond,  
To which our noblest Heroes made resort,  
O then my Stallion would have kept his ground,  
And been at razing of the stateliest fort,  
In all that Province: and though small he may,  
Yet am I sure he would not run away.   

If I had lived but in Don Quixotes time,  
His Rozinant had been of little worth,  
For mine was bred within a colder clime,  
And can endure the motion of the earth,  
With greater patience: nor will he repine  
At any provender, so mild is he,  
How many men want his humility?   

If I had lived when that proud fairy Queen,  
Boasted to run with swift winged Zephyrus,  
Tripping so nimbly o'er the levy green,  
Of Oeta's flowery forest, where each bush,  
T●x● her presumption: then my Horse had been,  
A Horse of price, O then he had been tried,  
And to no manger in subjection tide.   

If I had lived when Fame-spred Tamburlaine  
Displayed his purple signals in the East,  
Hollow ye pamphred jades, had been in vain,  
For mine's not pamphred, nor was ere at feast,  
But once, which onces near like to be again,  
How methinks would he have scoured the wheels,  
Having bra●e Tamburlaine whipping at's heels.   

If I had lived but in our Banks his time,  
I do not doubt, so witty is my lade,  
So f●ll of Imitation, but in fine,  
He would have proved a mirror in his trade,  
And told Duke Humphreis' Knights the hour to dine  
Yea by a secret instinct would had power,  
To know an honest woman from a whore.   

Well there's no remedy, since I am poor,  
And cannot feed my horse as I desire,  
I must be forced to set a Bill o'th' door,  
And with my Bill pay for my horses hire,  
Which once discharged, I'll never run o'th' sko●e;  
But for my Bill, (invention play thy part,  
And for my horse-sake, tell men what thou art.   

here stands a beast that eats and has no teeth,  
Wiske out and winches and yet has no tail,  
Looks like Deaths-head, and yet he is not death,  
Neighs like an Ass, and crawleth like a snail,  
All bones above, no belly underneath,  
" Legged like a Camel, with a Sea-horse foot,  
" So bigg's his head he cannot be got out.   

Now generous spirits that inhabit here,  
And love to see the wonders of this Isle,  
Compared with other nations, draw but near  
And you shall see what was expressed erewhile,  
Your pays but pence, and that's not half so dear,  
" If you remember, as was that same to●,  
" Of Banks his horse, or Fenners England's joy.   

What would you see, that may not here be seen,  
A Monster? Why, it● he●re: o● would you see,  
That which has ●rst been shown to other men,  
" A horses tay●e stand where his head should be.  
Lass you must know I am for ●one of them,  
That love such novelties: my two year sail,  
Has brought a wenching thing that has no tail.   

Observe the wonder, it's not obvious,  
Nor each day common: see now while it's here,  
For it's a monster so prodigious,  
That if I can▪ I'll have't some other where,  
And show my travel to the gener'ous.  
" For know my monster doth this stable hate,  
" Having a head so great, a room so strait.   

Why crowd ye here no faster? 'las I see,  
Because I cannot garnish out my post  
With fair inscriptions graven curiously.  
" Like to your Mountebank or English Foist.  
The trifling vulgar will not come to me.  
Nor visit my strange one beast: let them pass.  
My Monster's not set up for every Ass.   

It ' for these brave renowned Ca●al●res,  
" That crave to see, and talk of what they see;  
Nay talk of more than either eyes or ears  
Were witness of. These welcome are to me,  
And to my Monster, for to themed appears,  
" And to no others, that they might beget,  
" Moore gain by th' sight, then ere I gained by it.   

What none? no Mandevill? is London grown  
To surfeit of new accideats? why ho,—  
Saint Bartlemews, where all the Pageants shown,  
And all those acts from Adam unto Noah  
Used to be represent? canst send me none,  
Of any sort? or thou'ld not any spare,  
But keep them for the Pageants of thy Fair.   

How many used to swarm from Booth to booth▪  
" Like to Scl●uoniaus, when with famine pined,  
Going like Herds, as other cattle doth,  
Itching for news, yet never more inclined  
To hear the worst: where now is all that froth,  
Of crab-faced Rascals? O I know their strain,  
" The Fair being done, they sleep till fair again.   

If mother Redcap, chance to have an Ox  
Roasted all whole, O how you'll fly to it,  
Like Widgeons, or like wild geese in full flocks,  
That for his penny each may have his bit:  
Or if that limping Pedant at the stocks,  
Set out a Pageant, who'll not thither run,  
As 'twere to whip the cat at Abington.   

Ill nurtured Bowbies, know what I have here  
Is such a Monster, as to know what 'tis,  
Would breed amazement in the strangest ear,  
But vulgar eyes are aiming still amiss,  
To whom what's only rare, is only dear.  
For you my wonder sleeps, nor shall't awake,  
Till riper wits come for my monster's sake.   

Farewell uncivil Stinkards, scum o'th' City.  
The Suburbs panders, bolts to garden Alleys,  
May you through grates sing out your doleful ditty,  
For now my Dragon Monster spits his malice,  
That as you pit●y none, so none may pity,  
Your forlorn state: O may't be as I pray,  
So saddest night may cloud your clearest day.  
And for the Ostler, since I reap no gain,  
Out of my Monster, take him for thy pain.  
Yet for remembrance write upon this shelf,  
Here stood a Horse that eat away himself.    

Hymen's Satire.  
Done Bassiano married now of late:  
Has got his witless pate a fair estate,  
Is't possible, Fortune should be so blind,  
As of a world of men not one to find,  
Worthy her training in her thriving school  
But an admired wittal or a Fool?  
It's true: why then Fortune's a partial whore,  
To make the foolish rich, the wisest poor.  
Whence we observe (experience teacheth it)  
The younger brother hath the elder wit,  
Yea by example instanced every where,  
The Cockney-Cittie's rich, the Suburbs bare,  
O then I see the Golden age begins,  
When fools are mates for wisest Citizens.   

A Marriage song called by the Author In and Out: and now dedicated to the lately converted honestman, W. G. and his long love-crossed Eliza.  
The Marriage song, called In and Out.  
HAh, have I catched you prithee sweetheart show,  
If so thou canst, who is in Turnbull now?  
Dost smile my precious one? nay I must know,  
There is no remedy, then tell me how;  
What my ingenuous cheat, dost laugh to see,  
All former ●arres turn to an harmony,  
So generally applauded? true thou may,  
The Night is past, and now appears the day,  
Full of true jovisance; long was thy suit,  
Ere 'twas effected, being in and out,  
Vowing and breaking, making many an oath,  
Which now I hope's confirmed by you both.  
O how I clip thee for it? since thy name,  
Is there renewed, which first defamed the same,  
For (hear me Bridegroom) thou by this shalt save  
Thyself a Title: I will raze out knave,  
Dishonest lover: vow infringing swain,  
And say thou ceased to love, that thou again▪  
Might love more fervent, being taught to woo,  
And wooing do what Silkworms use to do;  
Who do surcease from labour now and then,  
That after rest the better they might spin.  
Spin then (my pretty Cobweb) let me see,  
How well thy Bride likes thy activity.  
That when she sees thy cunning, she may say;  
" Why now I'm pleased for all my long delay;  
" Play that stroke still, there's none that here can let thee,  
" For none there is can better please thy Bettie.  
" OH there (my dear) I hope thou'le near give over,  
" Why might not this been done as well before?  
" Nay faint not man, was Bettie so soon won,  
" That her short pleasure should be so soon done.  
" Nay then come up, are marriage joys so short,  
" That Maidenheads are lost with such small sport?  
" This if she say (as this she well may say)  
Like a good Gamester hold her still out play.  
First night at least wise, and it will be hard,  
But she will love the better afterward.  
Whence is the Proverb (as it hath been said)  
Maidens love them that have their maidenhead:  
Come then my lad of metal make resort,  
Unto the throne of love thy Betties fort.  
There plant thy Cannon siege her round about.  
Be sure (my Boy) she cannot long hold out.  
Erect thy standard, let her tender breast,  
Be thy pavilion: where thou takes thy rest.  
Let her sweet-rosie Breath such joys bestow.  
That in that vale of Paradise below,  
Thou may collect thy joys to be far more,  
Then any mortal ever had before.  
Yet hear me friend, if thou secure wilt be,  
Observe these rules which I prescribe to thee.  
Be not horn jealous, it will make thee mad,  
Women will have it if it may be had.  
Nor can a jealous eye prevent their sport,  
For if they loved far will they venture for't.  
Suppose her straying beauty should be led,  
To the embraces of another's bed,  
Will't thou Acteon-like thy hourglass spend,  
In moaning that thou never canst amend?  
No, my kind friend, if thou'lt be ruled by me,  
I'd have thee w●nke at that which thou dost see,  
sha●ing thy wives defects with patient mind,  
Seeing, yet seeming to the world blind.  
For tell me friend, what harm is there in it?  
If then being cloyed, another have a bit?  
Which thou may spare, and she as freely give,  
Believe me friend, thou hast no cause to grieve.  
For though another in thy saddle ride,  
When he is gone, there's place for thee beside,  
Which thou may use at pleasure, and it'h end,  
Reserve a pretty mo●s●ll for thy friend.  
Let not thy reason then be counter-bufft,  
Nor think thy pillow with horne-shavings stuffed,  
If't be thy destiny to be a monster,  
Thou must be one, if not, how ere men co●ster.  
Thou may remain secure, exempt from shame,  
Though megre Envy aggravate the same.  
For this has been my firm position still,  
The husband's horns be in the woman's will.   

Upon the Marriage.  
THis Marriage went the nearest way about.  
Playing now up, now down, now in, now out,  
But being done I wish love may b●gin,  
Now to be never out, but ever in.   

An Epigram, Like to like.  
Upon a time (as I informed am)  
A Suburbs Bawd and Country Gentleman,  
Coming at the door where I do lie,  
A gallant ruffling wench chanced to pass by;  
Which th' Bawd obreruing,— Sir I pray you see,  
" How like you gallant and my daughter be.  
Indeed they much resemble, both in face,  
Painting, complexion, and in huffing pace,  
Yea I should say near any two were liker,  
If this be as thy daughter is? a striker.   

Upon the commodious though compendious labour of M Arthur Standish▪ In the invention of planting of Wood A woodmans' Emblealme.  

COme Sylvans, come each in his fresh array,  
And sing his name that makes you look so g●y,  
Every Branch,  
E●ery spray,  
buds as in the  
Month of may.  
here the myrtle Venus' tree,  
There the Chessenut, walnut be,  
here the Medlar set above,  
Intimates what women love.  
Lofy pine,  
Fruitful vine,  
Make a spring  
In winter time.   

The naked field has put a garment on,  
With lea●● shades for birds to peck upon.  
Now Nemaea  
doth appear,  
Flower emb●rdered  
every where.  
Here the popular, A●dor there,  
Witch-tree, holy-thorne and B●e●●  
Here the shady Elm, and fir,  
Dew it, texe-distilling myrrh.  
Every cliff,  
every ●lim●,  
Makes a spring  
in Winter time.   

Wood-haunting Satyrs now their minion's seek●,  
And having found them pla● at Barley-brake.  
Where delight  
makes the night,  
Short (though long)  
by lovers sight.  
Where Marisco Fairies Que●ene,  
With her Ladies trace the green;  
Dancing measures, singing lays,  
In the worthy planters' praise;  
Standish fame  
each voice implies,  
Bliss to Standish  
Echo cries.   

Here stands the Wilding on the steepy rock,  
The Quinee, the Date, the dangling Apricock,  
Rough skinded Peeh,  
lip-died cherry,  
M●lou citron,  
Mulberry.  
Sallow, Willow, Mellow Birt,  
Sweete-breathd Sicamour and Mirt,  
here the Plum, the Damsen there  
The Pusill, and the Katherins pear  
Flowers and flourish  
blown so green,  
As the spring  
doth ever seem.   

The brittle Ash and shade-obscuring Yew,  
The aged Oak clasped with the Missletoe,  
Hawthornes grow,  
one a row,  
And their sweetest  
smells bestow.  
Royal Palm, Laurel wreath,  
With young O siers underneath,  
Love-resembling Box tree there,  
Flourishing through all the year.  
Seyons' young,  
tender plants,  
Where the choir  
of wood-birds chants,   

Flora now takes her throne and for she knows,  
Of Standish care, she decks his aged brows:  
With crown  
of renown,  
Monument  
in time to come.  
That what he hath done of late,  
After times may imitate,  
So when all our Gro●es grow green,  
Albion may a Forest seem,  
Where if she  
the Forest were,  
Standish would  
be Forester.   

Then should no gorse grounds furrie whin, or Brir●,  
Deprive the painful plough man of his hire.  
Every field,  
than should yield,  
Great relief  
to share & shield.  
To the Blow share for his pain,  
To the shield for discipline,  
Sith the first he sows and reaps,  
And the last defends and keeps.  
Standish gives,  
to both a part,  
To the Gauntlet,  
and the Cart.   

Trees (Standish says) in summer upward grow,  
In winter downward to the root below:  
This I know not,  
but I know  
That with him  
it is not so.  
For in winter of his time,  
Now when sap 'gins to decline,  
Store of science blossom out  
From the top unto the root:  
Root of age,  
top of youth.  
Winter bearing,  
summer's growth.    

To the truly worthy, the Alderman of Kendal and his brethren.  
SIr in regard of due respect to you,  
(If I could write aught that might yield a due,  
To th' Corporation of which I may call,  
(And duly to) yourself the principal:  
I should desire, if power were to desire,  
To take an Eagles wing and so are far higher.  
Then hitherto my weak Muse could attain,  
But 'las I see my labour is in vain;  
For th'more I labour to express your worth,  
The less I able am to set it forth:  
Yet let not my endeavours so be taken,  
As if with power my wil● had me forsaken;  
For know (though my ability be poor)  
My goodwill vie's with any Emperor.  
Yea I must write and though I cannot speak▪  
What I desire yet I will ever seek,  
T'express that love which hath been borne by me,  
(And shall be still) to your Society.  
Then cause I know your place and have an aim,  
To show your merits in a shadowed name:  
I must be bold (affection makes me bold,  
To tell you of some errors uncontrolled,  
Which to your best discretion I'll refer,  
Having full power to punish such as err.  
First therefore I intent to speak of is;  
Because, through it, there's many do amiss,  
Is Idleness, which I have partly known,  
To be a vice inherent to your town:  
Where errant peddlers, mercenary slaves,  
Tinkers, and Tookers and such idle knaves  
Are too too conversant: let your command  
Suppress this sin and refuse of the land,  
They much disparaged both your town and you:  
Send them to th' whipping-stocke, for that's their dew,  
You know the Lord (whose will should be obeyed)  
Hath in his sacred word expressly said,  
That those which will not labour they should starve,  
(For rightly so their merits do deserve.  
Yea if we should in moral stories see,  
What punishments inflicted use to be  
On such as could not give account what they  
Did make profession of from day to day;  
Yea such as could not (upon their demand  
Express how they did live upon their hand;  
I make no question (but by Pagan's ear,)  
You that both Magistrates and Christians are,  
Would see your Town (by th'punishments expressed)  
By self-same censures to be soon redressed,  
And this same error do I not espy,  
Only in them, but in the younger fry,  
Who in their youth do lavish out their time.  
Without correction or due discipline:  
Respectless of themselves (as't may be said)  
They seem forgetful whereto they were made:  
O look to this let them not run at large,  
For over these you have a special charge;  
And if they fa I believe't from me it's true,  
Their blood will be required of some of you.  
We read in Rome how they did still retain,  
Some exercise that they their youth might trains,  
In warlike discipline or liberal arts,  
Or education in some foreign parts;  
So as in time as after it was shown,  
These actions gained their City great renown.  
But whence can I imagine that this sin,  
Wherein too many have been nosled in,  
Had her original but from that stain  
Of reputation, and the world's bane,  
(Which I in brief am forced to express,)  
To wit, that swinish use of drunkenness?  
A vice in great request (for all receive it)  
And being once trained in't there's few can leave it;  
How happy should I in my wishes be,  
If I this vice out of request could see,  
Within that native place where I was borne,  
It lies in you, dear Townsmen to reform,  
Which to perform, if that I might presume,  
Or so much under favour to assume,  
As to express what my observance taught me,  
Or bring to you what my experience brought me,  
I would make bold some outward grounds to lay,  
Which might in some sort lie an open way,  
For rectifying such abuse as grow,  
By this foul vice, and I will tell you how.  
There is no mean that sooner moves to good,  
If that the same be rightly understood,  
Then is example, for it's that doth move,  
Such firm impression as we only love,  
What greater wits approve, and what they say,  
Stands for an axiom 'mongst the younger aye,  
Which by the Proverb every man discerns,  
Since as the old Cock crows, the young Cock learns;  
So weak is youth, as there is nought in them,  
Which they derive not from the Eldermen,  
Quickly perverted (so depraud's our will)  
If they see aught in the Elder sort that's ill,  
And hardly (when they're customed in sin,)  
Can they be waned from that they're nuzz in,  
But if they once perceive the Elder sort,  
Hates vice in youth, and will reprove her fort  
If they see Virtue honoured by the Grave  
And reverend Magistrate, care they will have,  
To rectify their errors, and reduce,  
Their streying courses to a civil use.  
If this by due observance do appear,  
Methinks you that are Elders, you should fear,  
To act aught ill, lest your example should,  
Approve in others, what should be controlled.  
And ill may th' Father chastise in his son,  
That vice, which he himself is guilty on.  
Your patterns are most obvious to the eye,  
Of each unseasoned youngling passeth by,  
Which if he see defective but in part  
He presently applies it to his heart:  
For Education which we may aver  
With that diuinely-learned Philosopher  
To be a second Nature) now and then  
Doth alter quite the qualities of men,  
And make them so transformed from what they were,  
(As if there did some other men appear:  
Yea so far from their Nature they're estranged,  
As if they had been in the cradle changed:  
And of this second nature I am sure,  
Example is the only governor  
Which Plutarch terms th'Idea of our life,  
Timon an emelation or a strife  
We have to imitate, that what we see,  
May in ourselves as well accomplished be.  
O than you Precedents (whose years do give  
To most of you a fair prerogative)  
Reform yourselves (if you see aught) and then  
You better may reform in other men.  
As you are first by order and by time,  
So first enjoin yourselves a Discipline;  
Which being observed by you and duly kept,  
You may wake such as have securely slept  
In their excess of vanities: amongst which  
Let me (with all respect to you) beseech  
That you would seek exactly to redress,  
(That brutish vice of beastly drunkenness.  
And first to propagate a public good,  
Banished I pray you from your brotherhood,  
For diverse have observed it and will;  
(For man observes not good so oft as ill.  
What's done by th' Elders of a Corporation,  
Gives unto other men a toleration:  
If any such there be (as well may be)  
For that vice reigns in each Society:  
First caution them, bid them for shame refrain  
To lay on Gravity so fowl a stain;  
Tell them much happens twixt the cup and lip,  
And those same tears of their good fellowship,  
If they in time reform not what's amiss,  
Shall drown their reeling souls in hell's abyss:  
Where they may yaule and yarme till that they burst,  
Before they get one drop to quench their thirst,  
Since th'punishment shall be proportioned there,  
To that delight which we do live in here.  
O then, for God's love, bid ●hem now prepare,  
To be more strict than hitherto they were,  
Or bid them have recourse unto their glass,  
And there survey how swiftly time doth pass,  
How many aged Emblems time doth show,  
In those same wrinkles of their furrowed brow;  
How many motives of declining age,  
What arguments of a short pilgrimage,  
How many messengers of instant death,  
As dropsy, gout, and shortness of the breath,  
Catarrhs descending hourly from the head,  
Distaste of meats, wherein they surfeited:  
And thousand such proceeding from ill diet,  
Nights-sitting up, rear banquets, midday's ryet,  
But if these doting Graybeards I have named,  
Will not by your entreaties be reclaimed,  
Then I would wish (because these vices lurk)  
That you would fall another way to work,  
And by due castigation force them take  
Another course for youth's example sake:  
For those that will not now, at last repent  
After some twice or thrice admonishment,  
Deserve a punishment, nay which is worse,  
The Church's Anathema or that curse,  
Which shall lie heavy on them in that day,  
When what they owe th●y must be forced to pay:  
But some of you such Reverend-men appear,  
As you deserve that title which you bear,  
Towns Guardians, protectors of our peace,  
And sole renewers of our hopes increase,  
So discreet and so temperate withal,  
As if Rome did her men patricians call,  
I without assentation might be bold  
To name you so, nor could I be controlled.  
Wherhfore I need not fear but you that are  
Of such sincerity will have a care,  
To root out these (which as they seem to me)  
Be main Corrupters of your liberty,  
I wish it and I hope to see it too,  
That when I shall come to re-visit you  
I may much glory, and so much the more,  
To see them good that were depraved before:  
Nor do I only shadow such should give,  
Example unto others how to live;  
But even such vice-supporters as begin,  
Bravado-like to gallant it in sin:  
These are incorrigible saying their state  
Transcends the power of any Magistrate:  
For why they're Gentlemen, whence they allege  
They may be drunkards by a privilege:  
But I would have you tell them this from me,  
There is no such thing in gentility,  
Those that will worthily deserve that name,  
Must by their virtues character the same:  
For vice and generous birth (if understood)  
Differ as much in them, as ill from good.  
Besides, if they do snuff when they're reproved,  
Or seem as if, forsooth their blood were moved:  
Tell them that weak and slender is that town,  
When snuffs have power to menace justice down:  
Show me true Resolution, they may know  
That God hath placed Magistrates below,  
Who have power to control and chastise sin, (been:)  
(And blest's that town where such command hath  
For tell me, if when great men do offend  
justice were speechless, to what especial end  
Should laws enacted be? Since they do take  
Nothing but Flies, like th'webs which spiders make  
Where small ones they both ta'en and punished be,  
While great ones break away more easily:  
But rightly is it which that Cynic said,  
Who seeing justice o● a time ore-swaid,  
And over bearded by a great-mans' will,  
Why thus it is, quoth he, with justice still:  
Since th'golden Age did leave her, for at first  
She was truebred and scorned to be enforced  
To aught but right, yea such was Time as then,  
" Things lawful were most royal amongst men:  
But now she that should be a sharp edged axe,  
To cut down all sin's made a nose of wax;  
Wherein it's justice (if I not mistake it)  
What ere it be, just as the Great-men make it.  
But Saturn is not banished from your town,  
For well I know there's perfect justice shown,  
There Themis may be said to have her seat,  
Where poore-ones may be heard as well as great,  
There's no corruption but even weight to all,  
Equally tempered, firm, impartial,  
Sincere, judicious, and so well approved,  
As they that justice love or ere have loved,  
Are bound to hold that Corporation dear,  
Since in her colours she's presented there.  
Nor do I only speak of such as be,  
justices named within your liberty,  
But of those men w●ere with your Bench is graced  
And by Commission o'er the County placed.  
There may we see one take in hand the cause,  
Ferreting out the secrecy of th'laws  
Anatomizing every circumstance,  
Where if he ought omit, it's a mere chance,  
So serious is he, and withal so speedy  
As sure his Pater noster's not more ready:  
Yea I have wondered how he could contain  
So many law-quer●es in so small a brain,  
For as we see full of in summer time,  
When Sun begins more South ward to incline,  
A shower of hailstones railing in the air:  
Even so (for better can I not compare)  
His law exhaling meteors) w●uld he  
Send out his Shower of law-terms usually:  
So as I thought and many in those places,  
That it did thunder law, and rain down cases.  
Yea I have known some struck in such a blunder  
As they imagined that his words were thunder;  
Which to avoid (poor snakes) so scared were they.  
As they would leave the Bench and sneak away.  
There may we see another so well known  
To penal statutes, as there is not one,  
(So well experienced in them he does make him)  
Which can by any kind of means escape him.  
Besides for execution which we call,  
The sovereign end and period of all;  
Yea which may truly be esteemed the head,  
From whence the life of justice doth proceed  
He merits due respect: witness (I say)  
Those whipping-stocks erected in th'high way  
With stocks and pillories, which he hath se●  
To have the vagrant Beggar sound bet,  
Nor doth he want for any one of these,  
A statute in warm store if that he please;  
Which on occasion he can well produce,  
Both for himself and for his Country's use,  
Another may we see, though spare of speech,  
And temperate in discourse, yet he may teach  
By his effectual words the rasher sort,  
Who speak so much as they are taxed foxed.  
Yea so discreetly sober as I wish,  
Many were of that temper as he is.  
For than I know their motions would be good,  
Nor would they speak before they understood.  
Another solid, and though blunt in words,  
Yet ma●ke him and his country scarce affords  
One more ●●●cious, pithy in discourse,  
Sound in his reasons, or of more remorse,  
To such as are distressed, for he'll take,  
The poor man's cause▪ though he be near so weak.  
And much have I admired him in Survey  
Of his deserts shown more from day to day,  
That he should so disualue worldly praise,  
When every man seeks his esteem to raise.  
And worthily, for never nature brought  
Forth to the world a man so meanly wrought,  
Of such rare workmanship as you shall find,  
Inth ' exquisite perfection of his mind▪  
Yea, if too partial thought I should not be,  
(In that he hath been still a friend to me)  
I could express such arguments of love,  
As were of force th'obdurat'st hearts to move,  
To admiration of those virtues rest,  
Within the generous table of his breast,  
But I have ever hated, so has he,  
●'To paint men's worths in words of flattery.  
Yea I'do know it derogates from worth,  
To have herself in colours shadowed forth,  
Sith virtue rather craves for to be known  
Unto herself, then unto others shown.  
Only thus much i'll say; ordained he was,  
Even in his Cradle others to surpass.  
Since for his education it may seem,  
Being in mountains bred, that it was mean.  
But now of such an equal form combin'de  
As he is strong in body and in mind.  
Sincerely honest, and so well approved,  
As where he is not known, h●●'s heard & loved,  
So as on Mountains born, his thoughts aspire,  
To Zions mount, & Ioues triumphant choir.  
Another there's, who howsoe'er he seem,  
In th' eye of some distempered judgements mean.  
In understanding, I do know his wit,  
Outstrips the most of those that c●n●u●e it,  
Besides there's in him parts of more desert  
For Nature is supplied in him by Art.  
And whereas some to's wit impute the wrong,  
I rather do impute it to his tongue.  
Since well I know by due experience,  
(At such times as he deigned me conference)  
For reading profound reason ●ipe conceits,  
Discourse of stories, arguing of estates,  
Such general judgement he in all did show,  
As I was wrapped with admiration, how  
Men could esteem so menely (hairebraind-elues)  
Of such an one was wiser than themselves.  
It's true indeed, he's not intemperate.  
(As this age fashions) nor opinionate,  
But humble in his judgement, which may be,  
Some cause that he is censured as we see.  
Alas of grief, none should be deemed wise,  
But such as can like timists temporize.  
Expose their reputation to the shame  
Of an offensive or injurious name.  
Whereas if we true wisdom understood,  
We'd think non could be wise but such were good.  
And though we question thus, ask what man?  
Unless he be a politician,  
Yet policy will be of small avail,  
When that arch politician Machavell,  
Shall flame and fry in his tormented soul,  
Because toth' world wise, to heaven a fool.  
Yea I do wish (if ere I have a son)  
He may be so wise, as have wit to shun  
A self conceit of being solely wise,  
In his own bleared and dim-sighted eyes,  
For than I know there will in him appear,  
A Christian zealous and religious fear,  
Which like an Angel will attend him still,  
Moving to good, and wain him from what's ill.  
And far more comfort should I have of him,  
Then if through vain conceit he should begin  
To pride him in his follies, for by them,  
We see how many root out house and nam●,  
Yea of all virtues which subsisting be,  
None makes more perfect than humility.  
Since by it man deems of himself and's worth,  
As of the vilest worm the earth brings forth.  
Which disesteeming I may boldly name,  
More noble than to glory in oùr shame.  
For it doth lead us in a glorious path,  
With safest conduct from the day of wrath.  
When standig 'fore that high Tribunal there  
We're found far better than we did appear.  
And such is hee-yet have I heard it vowed,  
" He has not wit enough for to be proud.  
Whereas we know, and by experience see,  
That fools be still the proudest men that be.  
Nor is he only humble, for I hear,  
Of other proper virtues which appear  
In his well tempered disposition, when  
I hear of no complaints 'mongst poorer men,  
Who are his tenants for he has report,  
Of showing mercy, and is blessed for't.  
And is not this a point of wisdom, say?  
For to provide thus for another day  
That for terrestrial things, he may obtain  
A far more glorious and transcendent gain.  
Sure (I do think) there is no fool to him,  
That does enrich his progeny by sin,  
Makes shipwreck of a conscience, bars himself,  
Of after hopes to rake a little pelf.  
Ruins his soul, and adds unto the store,  
Of his accounts, by racking of the poor.  
Whereas ofth ' other side he's truly wise,  
(Though not to man, yet in thalmighty's eyes.  
Who pity and compassion doth profess,  
To th' forlorn widow and the fatherless,  
Does right to all men, nor will make his tongue,  
An advocate for him who's in the wrong;  
Accepts of no advantage, which may seem  
To stain his conscience, or to make't unclean▪  
Hates an oppressors name, and all his time,  
Was never wont to take too great a fine.  
Bears himself blameless before God and man.  
he's truly wise, or much deceived I am.  
Indeed he is, and such an one is placed,  
In that same Mirror which I spoke of cast.  
Who without assentation may be said,  
To have a pattern unto others laid,  
In actions of this kind, yea I may swear,  
Rather for these respects I hold him dear,  
Then for his state, which may be well expressed,  
To equal, if not to surmount the best.  
But I've too far digressed, in brief it's he,  
Who hates the leaven of the Pharisee,  
And (which is rare) amongst richer men to find,  
He counts no wealth like th'riches of the mind.  
How happy y●u (Grave Elders) to have these,  
Assistants in your p●ace, means for your ease,  
So as their serious care joined to their powers,  
May seem in some ●egree to lessen yours,  
For powers united, make the army stronger,  
" And minds combined preserve that union longer.  
O may there be, one mind and one consent,  
(Cohering in one proper continent)  
One firm opinion, general decree,  
Amongst you all concurring mutually:  
And may your Throne, which such good men affords,  
Near fall at odds by multiplying words,  
Since the spirit of contention stirs our blood,  
And makes us oft neglect a public good.  
Thus with my best of wishes, I will end,  
Resting your ever true devoted friend.   

To all truebred Northern Sparks, of the generous society of the Cottoneers, who hold their High road by the Pinner of Wakefield, the Shoemaker of Brandford, and the white C●ate of Kendal: Light gains, Heavy Purses, good Trade, with clear Conscience.  
TO you my friends that trade in black and white,  
In black and white do I intend to write.  
Where I'll insert such things are to be shown,  
Which may in time add glory and renown,  
To your commodious trade, which shall be  
Graceful to you, and such content to me,  
As I should wish, at least my lines shall tell,  
To aftertimes, that I did wish you well,  
And in my observations seem to show,  
That due respect I to my country owe.  
First therefore ere I further go, I'll prove,  
Wherein no less, I'll manifest my love,  
Then in the greatest: that of all have been,  
Shall be, or are, you seem the worthiest men,  
And this's my reason; which may grounded be,  
On the firm arches of Philosophy;  
We say, and so we by experience find,  
In man there is a body and a mind,  
The body is the cover and in it  
The minds internal soveraignnesse doth sit,  
As a great Princess, much admired at,  
Sphered and reared in her chair of state,  
While th'body like a handmaid priest t' obey,  
Stands to perform, what ere her mistress say.  
Yea some compare this bodies outward grace,  
Unto a dainty fine contrived case,  
Yet for all th'cost which is about her spent,  
She sounds but harsh, without her instrument,  
Which is the soul: others resembled have,  
The body's feature to a sumptuous grave,  
Which garnished is without full trick and trim,  
Yet has nought else, but skulls and bones within.  
Others compare the beauty of the mind,  
To pith in trees, the body to the rind.  
But of all others have been, be, or were,  
In my opinion none doth come so near,  
In true Ressmblanes (nor indeed there can)  
Then twixt the mind and li●ing of a man,  
For it's the inward substance which to me,  
Seems for to line the body inwardly,  
With ornaments of virtue, and from hence,  
As he excels, we draw his excellence.  
Then, my dear countrymen, to give your due,  
From whence comes man's perfection, but from you  
That do maintain with credit your estate,  
And sells the best of man at easy rate,  
To wit, the minds resemblance, which is gotten,  
By those same linings which you sell of Cotten.  
For see those thin breech Irish lackeys run,  
How small i'th' waist, how sparing in the bomb,  
What jack a Lents they are: yet view them when  
They have been lined by you, their proper men,  
Yea I may say, man is so strange an Elf,  
Without your help, he looks not like himself.  
Indeed if we were in some parts of those,  
Sun-parched countries, where they use no clothes,  
But through the piercing violence of heat,  
Which in some places is intemporate,  
Th'inhabitants go naked, and appear  
In grisly sort, as if they frenticke were,  
Than you that make us manlike, should not need,  
Nor your profession stand in any fleed,  
For why? the climate which we then should have,  
No Bombast, Cotten, or the like would crave:  
Since scorching beams would smoulder so about them,  
As th'dwellers might be hot enough without them.  
But here's an Island that so temprate is,  
As if it had plantation to your wish.  
Neither so hot, but that we may abide,  
Bo●h to be clad and bombasted beside.  
Neither so cold, but we may well allow it,  
To wear such yarn, a blind man may look through it.  
It's true indeed, well may it be confessed,  
If all our parts were like some women's breast.  
Bared and painted with pure Azure veins,  
Though of themselves they have as many stains,  
And riveled wrinkles, with some parts as bad,  
Then th' crooked Greek Thersytes ever had,  
It might be thought your gains would be so small,  
As I'm persuaded they would be none at all:  
But thanks be given to heavens supernal powers,  
Which sways this Mass of earth, that trade of yours,  
Hath her dependence fixed in other places,  
Then to be tie to women's breasts or faces.  
Let Painters and Complexion sellers look,  
To their cracked ware, you have another book  
To view into, than they have to look in,  
For yours's's an honest trade, but theirs is sin.  
Next I express your worth in, shall be these,  
First, your supportance of poor families,  
Which are so weak in state, as I much doubt me,  
They would be forced to beg or starve without ye.  
The second is, (wherein you've well deserved,  
The care you have to see your Country served,  
Not as such men who live by foreign Nations,  
Impoverishing this Land by transportations,  
For their depraved Natures be well shown,  
By loving strangers better than their own;  
Or as it seems, to suck their Mother's blood,  
Their Native Country for a private good.  
The third and last, which here expressed shall be,  
Shall reference have to your Antiquity,  
All which I will dilate of, and though I  
Cannot describe each thing so movingly,  
As I could wish, yet take it in good part,  
Proceeding from the centre of a heart,  
That did this task and labour undertake,  
For your profession and your country's sake,  
Whose air I breathed, O I were worthy death,  
Not to love them, who sucked with me one breath.  
How many Families supported be,  
Within the compas●e of one Barronry,  
By your profession I may boldly show,  
(For what I speak, I by observance know.)  
Yea by eye-witness, where so many are,  
Provided for by your peculiar care,  
As many would the beggars be (I wot)  
If your religious care relieved them not.  
For there young brats, as we may well suppose,  
Who hardly have the wit to don their clothes,  
Are set to work, and w●ll can finish it,  
Being such labours as do them befit:  
Winding of spooles, or such like easy pain,  
By which the least may pretty well maintain  
Themselves, in that same simple manner clad,  
As well agrees with place where they were bred.  
Each plies his work, one cards, another spins,  
One to the studdles goes, the next begins  
To ravel for new wefte, thus none delay,  
But make their webbe-up, against each Market-day,  
For to preserve their credit: but pray see,  
Which of all these for all their industry,  
Their early rising, or late sitting up,  
Could get one bit to eat, or drop sup.  
If having wrought their webs, their forced to stand,  
And not have you to take them off their hand.  
But now by th'way, that I my love may show,  
Unto the poorer sort as well as you,  
Let me exhort you, in respect I am,  
Unto you all both friend and Countryman,  
And one that wisheth, if he could express,  
What's wishes be unto your Trade success,  
As to himself, these poor-men (under favour)  
Who earn their means so truly by their labour,  
Should not (observe me) be enforced to wait,  
" For what you owe, and what's their due, so late,  
Time unto them is precious, yea one hour,  
If idly spent, is charges to the poor:  
Whose labour's their Revenue: do but go,  
To Solomon, and he will tell you so,  
Who willeth none, expressly to foreslow,  
To pay to any man what they do owe,  
But, if they have it, not to let them stand,  
Craving their due, but pay it out a hand.  
Say not unto thy friend (saith Solomon)  
I have not for thee now, but come anon:  
For why shouldst thou that hast wherewith to pay,  
Put of till morrow, what thou mayst to day  
Believe me friends I could not choose but speak,  
And caution you of this, for even the weak  
And impotent, whose souls are full as dear,  
As be the Monarches, whisper in mine ear,  
And bid me tell you yet to have a care,  
Not to express their names what men they are,  
For than they doubt that you to spite them more,  
Would make them stay, far longer than before.  
That you would see their injuries redressed,  
Of which they think, you were not yet possessed.  
But in transferring of the charge to such,  
As be your Factors, which have had small touch  
Of others griefs: yourselves have had the bla●●  
Though't seems your Factors well deserved the sat  
Nor would I have you think I'm feed for this,  
For they do plead in Forma pauperis  
That be my Clients, yea I'm tied too,  
In country's love to do that which I do:  
For e●en their tears, mon●s, and distressed state,  
Have made me for them so compassionate,  
That my soul yern'd within me, but to hear,  
Their moans despised, that were esteemed so dear,  
To their Creator, see their Image then;  
And make recourse to him that gave it them,  
Whose mansion is above the highest sphere,  
And bottles up the smallest trickling tear,  
Shed by the poorest soul, (which in a word)  
Shall in that glorious synod bear record:  
Where for the least nonpayment which we owe,  
Shall pass this doom- Away ye cursed, go.  
But I do know by my Experience,  
The most of you have such a Conscience,  
As in that day, what ever shall befall,  
Your sincere souls will as a brazen wall,  
Shield you from such a censure; for to me,  
Some do I know bore such integrity.  
As I dare well avowed, 'tis rare to find,  
In such a crazy time, so pure a mind.  
But now I must descend (as seems to me)  
From the relief of many Family,  
By you supported, to your special care,  
To see your country served with good Ware;  
Which of all others (if well understood)  
Seems to have aim most at a public good.  
Well it appears, even by your proper worth,  
That you were borne for her that brought you forth,  
Not for yourselves, which instanced may be,  
In that you aim at no Monopoly,  
No private staples, but desire to sell,  
(Which of all other seems approved as well,)  
Your Ware in public places, which may stand  
No more for your avail, then good of th' land.  
Nor are you careless what it is you bring,  
Unto your Country, for your customing,  
Dependence has upon that due esteem,  
They have of you, that are the same you seem,  
Plain homebred chapmen (yet of such due note)  
Their word is good, how plain so ever's their coat.  
Yea do I wish, I may have such as they,  
Engaged to me, for they'll do what they say,  
When silken coats, and some of them I know,  
Will say far more than ere they mean to do.  
Therefore it much concerns you to produce,  
That which you know is for a common use.  
Not for the eye so much as for the proof,  
For this doth tend most to your own behoof:  
Where Reputation doth such custom gain,  
As being got is seldom lost again.  
Yet sure methinks my Friends, you put to th'venture,  
When your commodities are stretched on th' tenter,  
So that as I have heard, when come to witting  
They shrink a yard at least, more than is fitting,  
Yet do I hear you make excuse of this.  
That for yourselves you know not what it is:  
And for your Factors what they take, they pay,  
If Shere-men stretch them so, the more knaves they.  
It's true they are so, yet for all you use  
These words, believe't, they'll serve for no excuse,  
For if you will be Commonweals men, know,  
Whether your Shere-men use this feat or no,  
Before you buy, (which found) reprove them then,  
Or else avoid such tenter-hooking men.  
There is a Gallant in this town I know,  
(Who damned himself, but most of them do so)  
If that he had not, to make cloak and suit,  
Some thirty yards of rug or thereabout,  
Yet hardly came to fifteen afterward,  
It had been measured by the tailors yard.  
Now was not this too monstrous and to bad,  
That it should lose full half of that it had?  
I know not what to think (but to be brief)  
Either the Tailor was an arrant thief,  
And made no bones of Theft, which is a crime,  
Most Tailors will dispense with at this time:  
Or sure, if my weak wit can judge of it,  
The rug was tentred more than did befit:  
But you will say, the Gallant sure did lie,  
Faith if you be of that mind so am I,  
For it's scarce possible so much to put,  
In Cloak and suit, unless heed cloth his gut?  
(And that's ofth'largest size) and so't may be,  
For I've heard one skilled in Anatomy,  
(Auerr thus much that every gut in man  
For at that time his lecture then began,)  
Was by due observation known to be  
Seven times his length: so that it seems to me  
If this be true, which Naturalists do teach,  
The Tailor played the man to make it reach,  
So far, for sure the yards could not be small,  
That were to make cloak, suit, cloth guts, and all.  
But I do find you guiltless, for I know,  
As to your Country, you your lives do owe,  
If privare harms might propagate her good,  
(For Country's love extends unto our blood)  
So there's no Commerce which you entertain▪  
Aims not in some part at a public gain;  
And that's the cause, God's blessings do rene●  
Making all things to cotton well with you.  
" Now to the third Branch, is my muse addressed,  
To make your Trade's Antiquity expressed,  
If I had skill but rightly to define,  
Th'original foundation and the time,  
The cause of your increase, and in what space,  
The people you Commerst with, and the place  
Of your first planting, than it might appear,  
Upon what terms your privileges were:  
But so onfused be times antiquities,  
As it is hard directly to show these,  
In what especial sort they were begun,  
(Yet I may do what other men have done)  
And by conjectures make your Trade displayed  
Speaking in Verse, what some in prose have said  
Some are opinioned that your trade began  
From old Carmentis, who in colours span  
Such exquisite rare works, asth'webs she wrought  
Were far and near by foreign nations sought.  
And as it may in ancient writ appear.  
The Phrygian works were said to come from her.  
But now the better to unfold the same,  
Know that there were two women of that name,  
The one (for Stories manifest no less)  
Euanders mother was, a Prophetess,  
Who wrote and spoke in verse with such a grace,  
As she renowned the Country where she was.  
The other was a Spinster, which did come,  
Along with Aquila (when he from Rome  
Marching amain, laucht forth for Brittany)  
Which Coast Carmentis did no sooner see,  
Then she admired, for well she saw by use,  
Th'inhabitants would prove industrious.  
So as in th●se days rude, they gr●w in time,  
Specially Nooth-ward) by her discipline,  
To become civil, and where prompt to do,  
Any set Task this Matron put them to.  
Touching the place where she plantation had,  
divers Historians have so differed,  
As hardly jump they by a hundred mile,  
And therefore difficult to reconcile  
Their different opinions: for they strive,  
Amongst themselves, & ask where shesed arrive?  
Since it appears when Aquila came ashore,  
Save 3 or 4 choice dames, there were no more.  
Of woman kind with him: for he was loath,  
To ship such old hags, were not for his tooth,  
And therefore such as bewry did adorn,  
Were shipped with him: for they would serve his turn  
To reconcile these doubts, which seems a wonder,  
Know that his fleet divided was a sunder.  
And driven to sundry creeks, some East, some west,  
Some North, some South; for so they were distressed.  
By adverse winds (as forced from together)  
They were dispersed, they knew not where, nor whither.  
In which auspicious tempest, happy stray,  
For happy was that tempest may you say,  
This modest matron with an heavy heart,  
Re●t of her friends arrived i'th' North part,  
With some young maids which Aquila did mind  
To bring along to keep his men in wind.  
The Port when she arrived (as't seems to me,  
For I do ground on probability,  
Drawn from the clime & Ports description)  
Was the rich haven of ancient Workington,  
Whose stately prospect merits honour's fame,  
In nought more noble than a Curwens' name.  
And long may it reserve that name whose worth,  
Hath many knights from that descent brought forth,  
For if to blaze true fame (ay ere have skill),  
In Bouskill joined with Curwen show't I will.  
Carmentis thus arrived did travail on  
To find find some place fit for plantation:  
For then that Coast as we in stories read,  
Lay wholly waste, and was unpeopled.  
Where in her progress by the way she came,  
She gave to sundry places disserent name.  
" 'mongst which her own name, whence it is they say,  
Cartmell or Carment-hill holds to this day  
Her appellation: and now near an end  
Of her set journey, as she did descend  
Down f●om the neighbouring Mountains, she might spy,  
A woody vale, seated deliciously.  
Through which a pleasant River seemed to glide,  
Which did this vale in equal parts divide,  
This having spied, (on Stavelays Cliffs they say)  
She laid her staff, whence comes the name Staffe-lay.  
Corruptly Staulay, where she stayed a space,  
But seeing it a most notorious place,  
And that the trades men were so given toth' Pot,  
That they would drink far more than ere they got.  
She turned from thence, yet left some Maids behind.  
That might acquaint them in this wool work kind.  
While she did plant, as ancient Records be,  
Nearer to Kendal in th' Barronrie.  
Thus have I drawn your lineage as it was,  
For other Accidents I let them pass,  
Only such things as most observant were,  
(As the erection of your Sturbidge fair.  
I thought to shadow briefly, which began,  
On this occasion by a Kendal man,  
Who coming up or down I know not well,  
Brought his commodities that way to sell:  
Where being benighted, took no other shield,  
To lodge him and his ware thenth ' open field:  
A Mastiff had he, or a mongrel Cur,  
Which he still cried and called on, Stur-bitch stur,  
Lest miching knaves now fore the spring of day,  
Should come perchance, and filch his ware away.  
From hence they say took Sturbidge first her name,  
Which if she did, she need not think't a shame,  
For noble Princes, as may instanced be,  
From Braches had their names as well as she:  
Such Romulus and Remus were, whose name  
Ta'en from a she- Wolves dug, raised Rome's first fame,  
Yea Cyrus which 's as ill, (if not far worse,)  
Had but a Bitch (called Spacon) for his nurse.  
For in descents, it is our least of care,  
To ask what men once were, but what they are.  
Sith great estates, yea Lordships raised we see,  
(And so shall still) fromth ' rank of beggary.  
Yea Peasants (such hath been their happy fate)  
Without desert have come to great estate,  
For true it is was said so long agone,  
A paltry Sire may have a Princely Son.  
" But hast my Muse in colours to display,  
Some ancient customs in their high roade-way,  
By which thy loving Country men do pass,  
Conferring that now is, with what once was,  
At least such places labour to make known,  
As former times have honoured with renown.  
So by thy true relation 't may appear  
They are no others now, then as they were,  
Ever esteemed by ancient times records,  
Which shall be shadowed briefly in few words.  
The first whereof that I intent to show,  
Is merry Wakefield and her Pindar too;  
Which Fame hath blazed with all that did belong,  
Unto that Town in many gladsome song:  
The Pindars valour and how firm he stood,  
In th'towns defence 'gainst th'Rebel Robin-hood,  
How stoutly he behaved himself, and would,  
In spite of Robin bring his horse to th'fold,  
His many May games which were to be seen,  
Yearly presented upon Wakefield green,  
Where lovely jug and lusty Tib would go,  
To see Tom-lively turn upon the toe;  
Hob, Job, and Crowd the fiddler would be there,  
And many more I will not speak of here:  
Good god how glad hath been this heart of mine  
To see that Town, which hath in former time,  
So flourished and so gloried in her name,  
Famous by th' Pindar who first raised the same?  
Yea I have paced o'er that green and over,  
And th' more I saw't, I took delight the more,  
" For where we take contentment in a place,  
" A whole days walk, seems as a cinquepace:  
Yet as there is no solace upon earth,  
Which is attended evermore with mirth:  
But when we are transported most with gladness,  
Then suddenly our joys reduced to sadness,  
So fared with me to see the Pindar gone,  
And of those jolly lads that were, not one  
Left to survive: I grieved more than I'll say,  
(But now for Brad-ford I must hast away).  
Brad-ford if I should rightly set it forth,  
Style it I might Banberry of the North,  
And well this title with the Town agrees,  
Famous for twanging, Ale, Zeal, Cakes and Cheese:  
But why should I set zeal behind their ale?  
Because zeal is for some, but ale for all;  
Zealous indeed some are (for I do hear,  
Of many zealous sempring sister there)  
Who love their brother, from their heart i'faith.  
For it is charity, as scripture saith,  
But I am charmed, God pardon what's amiss,  
For what will th'wicked say that hear of this,  
How by some evil brethrened hath been said,  
Th'Brother was found in's zealous sister's bed?  
Unto thy task my Muse, and now make known,  
The jolly shoemaker of Brad-ford town,  
His gentle-craft so raised in former time  
By princely journeymen his discipline,  
" Where he was wont with passengers to quaff,  
" But suffer none to carry up their staff  
Upon their shoulders, whilst they passed through town  
For if they did he soon would beat them down.  
(So valiant was the Souter) and from hence,  
Twixt Robin-hood and him grew th'difference;  
Which cause it is by most stage-poets writ,  
For brevity, I thought good to omit,  
" Descending thither where most bound I am,  
" To Kendall-white-coates, where your trade began.  
Kendal (to which I all success do wish)  
May termed be that parts Metropolis,  
For seat as pleasant, as the most that are,  
Instanced in th'ruined Castle of Lord Par.  
(For seat imparaled); where we may see,  
" Great men to fall as subject are as we:  
Yea there (as in a mirror) may be shown,  
The subjects fall rests in the Sovereign's frown.  
Many especial blessings hath the Lord,  
Poured on this Town, for what dothed not afford  
(If necessary for man's proper use)  
Sufficient, if not superfluous?  
Yea I dare say (for well it doth appear)  
That other places are more bound to her,  
Then ●he to any, there's no Town at all,  
(Being for compass so exceeding small,  
For commerce half so great, nor is there any  
That doth, consort in traffic, with so many.  
But to her private blessings, for pure air,  
Sweet wholesome water, she may make compare  
With any clime, for air nor piercing is,  
Nor in her temprate breathing, too remiss:  
For water, Kent, whence Kendal takes her name,  
Whose spring (from Kent-mere) as they say, is ta'en:  
Swift is't in pace, light-poized, to look in clear,  
And quick in boiling (which esteemed were)  
Such qualities, as rightly understood  
Without ' en these, no water could be good.  
For Wood (how well she was in fore-time grown)  
May soon appear by th'store that is cut down,  
Which may occasion grief, when we shall see  
What want shall be to our posterity:  
Yet who seeks to prevent this surely none,  
Th'old proverb's in request, each man for one,  
While each for one, one plots another's fall,  
" And few or none respect the good of all.  
But of all blessings that were reckoned yet,  
In my opinion there is none so great,  
As that especial one which they receive,  
By th'grave and reverend Pastor which they have;  
Whose life and doctrine are so joint together,  
(As both sincere, there's no defect in either,)  
For in him both urim and Thummim be,  
O that we had more Pastors such as he:  
For then in Zion should God's flock increase,  
" Having such Shepherds would not slay but fleece;  
Thus what wants Kendal that she can desire,  
Tyre's her Pastor, and herself is tire,  
He to mistrust her people, she to bring,  
Wealth to her Town by foreign trafficking?  
Now must I have the White-coates underhand  
Who were in fore-time a defence to th'land:  
Yea such they were, as when they did appear,  
They made their foes perfume their hose for fear,  
Experienced Archers, and so practised it,  
As they would seldom shoot but they would hit.  
So that though th'darters of rude Scythia,  
The golden-Archers of rich Persia,  
The Silver-shields of Greece have borne the name,  
Blazed by the partial trump of lying fame.  
Yet in behalf of Kendal (I durst swear it)  
For true renown these Countries came not near it.  
As for this name of White-coate used to fore  
It came from th' milk-white furniture they wore  
And in good-sooth they were but homespun fellows  
" Yet would these white-coats make their foes die yellows,  
Which might by latter times be instanced,  
Even in those border-seruices they did:  
But this t'express (since it is known) were vain,  
Therefore, my friends, I'll turn to you again,  
And of some special matters caution you,  
Which being done I'll bid you all adieu:  
Since God hath blest you with such benefits,  
As the relief of nature well befits,  
Having of every thing sufficient store,  
There's reason (Countrymen) you render more  
To your Creator, who so kind has been,  
To you and yours above all other men:  
(Though all (I say) should thankful be) than such  
Who near received of him half so much.  
For well you know its in the Scripture said,  
Account for every Talon must be made,  
And how much more our Talents are, shall we  
After this life exact accountants be:  
Be good dispensers then of what you have,  
And do not shut your Ears to such as crave  
Your charity's Relief (for in a word)  
What you give th'poor, you lend unto the Lord,  
And be you sure, your love is not in vain,  
For with increase he'll pay it you again:  
Put not your labourer off with long delay,  
But satisfy him if you can this day.  
For pity 'tis, poor soul, that he should sit  
Waiting your time when he hath earned it.  
And this believe me many crimes produces,  
" Teeming of tenters and such like abuses  
Which they are forced to, cause they are delayed  
Working for more, then ere they can be paid:  
Be not too rigorous unto your debtor,  
(If he be poor) forbearance is far better,  
For'lasse what gain accrues to you thereby,  
If that his carcase do in prison lie:  
Yea, if you kept his body till't should rot,  
Th'name of hardhearted men were all you got.  
And sure, if my opinion fail not me,  
T'imprison debtors there's no policy,  
Unless they able be and obstinate,  
And like our Bank-rupts break t'increase their state,  
For th'poor they better may discharge their debt  
When they're at liberty and freedom get,  
For labour may they when they are enlarged,  
But when they die in prison all's discharged,  
O then (my friends) if you have such as these:  
Remember to forgive your trespasses,  
At least be not extreme to th' poorest of all,  
" Give him but time and he will pay you all.  
So Time shall crown you with an happy end,  
And consummate the wishes of a friend.  
So each (through peace of conscience) rapt with pleasure  
Shall joyfully begin to dance his measure.  
" One footing actively Wilsons delight,  
Descanting on this note, I have done what's right,  
Another joying to be named amongst them,  
Were made Men-fishers of poor fishermen.  
The third as blithe as any tongue can tell,  
Because he's found a faithful Samuel.  
The fourth is chanting of his Notes as gladly,  
" Keeping the tune for th'honour of Arthura Bradly.  
The 5. so prank, he scarce can stand on ground  
Ask who'll sing with him Malipiero dixon's round?  
But where have been my senses all this while,  
That he (on whom prosperity doth smile)  
And many parts of eminent respect,  
Should be forgotten by my strange neglect?  
Take heed my Muse lest thou ingrateful be,  
For well thou knows he better thinks of thee:  
On then (I say) express what thou dost wish,  
And tell the woreld truly what he is:  
He's one has shared in Nature special part,  
And though beholding little unto art,  
Yet bear his words more emphasis or force,  
Then most of th'scholars that I hear discourse,  
His word keeps touch (and of all men I know)  
He has th'best inside for so mean a show,  
Outwardly bearing, temperate, yet will be  
A bonus socius in good company.  
He understands himself (as I have said)  
And therefore aims whereto he first was made,  
In briefe'mongst all men that deserve applauding,  
None (having less ●f Art merits more lauding:  
So that though true desert crown all the rest,  
Yet if ought want in them it's here expressed;  
But th'evening shade draws on, and damps the light  
" Think friends on what I said, and so good night.   

To the Worshipful Recorder of Kendal.  
FOr Townes-abuses (worshipful Recorder)  
I leave them to your discreet self to order:  
My journey's at an end; hic baculum fixi,  
My Tale concluded, nought now rests but Dixi▪  
Nor would I have you speak that, (though you may)  
" Which I have heard a country Maior did say,  
Unto a Scholar, who concluded had  
His latin speech with Dixi I have said:  
To whom th'unlettered Mayor to approve the same  
Replying thus, took Dixi for his name.  
" If that thy name be Dixi sure I am,  
Dixi's a learned understanding man.   

To the Landlord wheresoever.  
Landlord to thee, addressed to speak I am,  
And full as much to thee as any man:  
For many Errors and fowl crimes I know  
That thou art more than others subject toe,  
Which i'll in part, vnri●, and so make clear,  
As in that day, when all men shall appear  
Before their heavenly Landlord, where is had  
A due account: This now which I have said  
May be a witness, and bear record still,  
That thou didst know before thy masters will,  
Which not performed thou knowst what thou hast read  
" With many stripes thou shalt be chastised,  
But first, ere I proceed, so great's the cries  
Of widows, and so many tere-swolne eyes  
Of Orphans succourless that reach to heaven,  
As I'm well-nigh into amazement driven,  
And cannot perfect what I do intend▪  
Until I see their sorrows at an end,  
At least allayed (for I am forced to keep,  
A consort with these silly souls that weep:)  
So moving is their passion (as in brief)  
So strong's compassion, I do feel their grief.  
Wherhfore I must (so great is griefs extent)  
Persuade these blubbert wretches be content,  
And bear with patience, till the Lord shall send,  
In his good time unto their sorrows end:  
Which to express the better I will move them  
In mildest terms; and thus will speak unto them.  
Cease, cease (poor injured soul) your tears to shed,  
Weeping for that cannot be remeded,  
'Las you are far deceived; if you suppose  
Teres can move Lands-lords: they are none of those,  
Their dispositions are more harder far▪  
Then any other of God's creatures are:  
For tell me (starveling) hath thy trickling eye,  
Pale-c●lourd●●sage heaven-ascending cry,  
Earth bending knees▪ heart throbbing languishment,  
Echoing sighs, souls-fretting discontent,  
Famine at hòme, surcharged with sorrows load,  
Debt with a S●rgeant dogging thee abroad,  
Have any these whereof thou hast had part,  
Been of that force to mollify his heart?  
Have all thy cries and Orphans tears together  
Moved him? o no: they are as if a feather,  
Were here and there tossed with each gale of wind,  
Thou shalt not find that temper in his mind:  
For h● is cauterized and void of sense,  
And thanks his God he has a conscience,  
Can stand remorseless against both wind and weather,  
though he and's Conscience go to hell together,  
Yea he d●th feel no more thy piteous moan,  
Then doth an anvil when it's struck upon.  
Why then shouldst thou thus strive against the stream,  
T'importune him that seems as in a dream,  
Secure of hell, careless of thy distress?  
Fie take upon thee some more manliness,  
Rouse thy dejected spirits which now lie,  
As if surprised by a lethargy;  
Wipe, wipe those eyes with briny streamelings drowned,  
And plant thyself upon a firmer ground,  
Then thus to waste thy grief enthralled heart,  
Which done: pray tell me but, what better art?  
Well, if thou wilt but silence thy just wrong  
For one half hour, or hardly for so long,  
I'll show the best I can of art and skill,  
With an unbounded measure of good will,  
To tell thy cruel lord, that there's a doom  
As well as here in after time to come:  
I'll tell him boldly though I chance to move him  
For all he's lord, there is a Lord above him,  
Before whose throne he must come to account;  
For Syons-Lord is that Lord Paramount,  
Who sways the massy orb of heaven and earth,  
Breathing on every creature that brings forth,  
It's he that gives to each increase and store,  
Girdling the swelling Ocean with a shore:  
The proudest Peers he to subjection brings,  
And prostrate lies the Diadems of Kings:  
By him oppressors feel there is a God,  
That can revenge and chastise with his rod;  
Yea, thy injurious Lord, I mean to tell  
Though he thinks of no hell, he's find a hell.  
And those distreaming tears which thou hast shed,  
Are by thy loving father bottled,  
For there's no tears, sighs, sorrows, grieves or moans,  
Which come from any of his little— ones  
But in his due compassion still expressed  
Unto their cause, he'll see their wrongs redressed.  
How thinks 't of this? will not these things enforce  
In thy relentless Landlord a remorse,  
Sooner and deeper (of that mind am I)  
Then puling with thy finger in thine eye.  
Well I will make attempt (which if it fall  
Out to my wishes as I hope it shall)  
The only fee which I expect of thee,  
Is that thou wouldst pour out thy prayers for me,  
Mere time pray for thyself (while I express  
Thy grieves, and heavens grant to my hopes success.)  
Now (rent-inhauncer) where away so fast?  
Pray stay a little sir for all your haste:  
Perchance you may more profit by your stay,  
Th●n if you should leave me and go your way:  
For I conjecture whither you are going,  
Nay, (do not blush) to so●●e poor snakes undoing,  
To ●oot out some poor Family or other;  
Speak freely man do not your conscience smother;  
Is't not (you Suck-blood) to oppress the poor,  
And put him and his children out a door;  
Is't not to take advantage on some thing  
Or other for his utter ruining:  
Is't not because thou art not half content  
That he should sit upon so easy rent.  
And therefore takes occasion upon nought,  
Forgiving something he neither said, nor thought.  
If such effects make thee abroad to come,  
Thou might with safer conscience stay at home.  
For whence be these exactions thus to stretch,  
And rack thy Tenants? thou wilt say, t'enrich  
Thy private Coffers, which in time may, be  
A fair estate to thy posterity.  
Or if not to increase thy wealth, or store,  
For to maintain thy riot or thy whore.  
O thou forlorn and miserable man,  
Come these conclusions from a Christian?  
Be these the ends whereto thou wert created,  
To love those things which make thy soul most hated?  
I'm sorry for thee, (yet unhappy Elf)  
Why should I grieve that grieves not for thyself?  
How canst thou think thy children shall possess,  
Long that estate is got by wickedness?  
Or how imaginst that it can succeed  
Well wi●h thy short lived heirs, or with their seed,  
When all that wealth (was gathered to their hand.)  
Came from the cries and curses of the land?  
No no, thou greedy sponge that sucks up store,  
Yet more thou sucks, thou needest still the more.  
Evil got goods (howbeit near so fair)  
Seldom enjoyed are by th' third heir  
For wavering is that state is raised by wrong,  
Built its on Sand, and cannot hold out long.  
Yea I have seen (even in that little time  
Which I have lived) Some of you in their prime.  
And so erected to the height of state,  
As you might seem to be admired at.  
For brave attendance, sumptuous attire,  
For far & pleasure what you could desire.  
In building gorgeous so as you might be  
Styled the heirs of Earth's felicity.  
Yet 'las (again) how quickly have I seen,  
These men shrunk down, as if they had not been:  
Their pomp decreased, their great attendance gone,  
And for their many dishes one, or none?  
True; for how can it any other's choose,  
Since God hath promised not to bless that house,  
Which aims at wealth, and honour, for to rise  
By Orphans tears, and woeful widows cries.  
Then for the first thou sees how it is vain,  
To think that thy posterity can reign  
Or long abide in that estates possession,  
Is got by fraud, collusion, or oppression.  
Now I will see whereto thy labours tend,  
To squize the poor that thou may better spend  
On wanton consorts (Souls eternal curse)  
The first was ill, but this is ten-times worse.  
It's well observed, that when we do begin,  
One sin's attended by an other sin.  
They come in pairs, which seems approud to be.  
In none oppressor better than in thee.  
It's not enough to pray upon the Poor,  
But thou must spend his state upon thy whore.  
So that me thinks I almost might aver,  
It's rather he than thou maintaineth her.  
Must his night cares and early rising to,  
His daily labours, when and where to sow  
His painful tillage, and his slender fare,  
His grief when's crops the less successive are,  
His many hours of want, few of content,  
His special care to pay his Lands-lords rend,  
Must he that earns his living best we know,  
(Being as God commanded) in's sweat ofs Brow,  
Must he the sleeps with many a troubled head,  
To find his wife and hungry children bread,  
Must he (I say) for all his life's disquiet,  
Maintain thy whoredom and excessive riot,  
Must he support thee in thy vain delights,  
Thy midnight revels, and thy pageant sights,  
Thy new invented fashions, and thy port,  
Must he at th' Cart, maintain thy pride at Cour●,  
If this he do? this doom to thee is given,  
Court it on earth, thou's never Court in Heaven.  
No Ahab no, there is no place for such,  
Whom poor men's grieves and sorrows will not touch.  
Such as will have compassion, shall be there,  
Received in mercy that had mercy here.  
But such as thou, who in the Pride of heart,  
Had little feeling of an others smart,  
Shall hear that We, Away thou cursed go,  
" Repent in time, or thou shalt find it so:  
For tell me? why should whorish complement  
Force thee to souls eternal languishment.  
Why should a minute's pleasure take from thee,  
All after-hope of thy felicity,  
Why should a painted cheek be so sought after,  
Believe't in common sense it merits laughter  
That her complexion should by thee be sought,  
That knows its not her own, but that'twas bought,  
Yea one would think more reason there's to seek,  
" Complexion in the shop, then on the cheek.  
And better wilt with generous humours stand,  
To buy't at first then at the second hand:  
Both's to be bought: no difference in the sale;  
The one in gross, the other in Retail.  
O then take heed, mix not two sins in one,  
Sins linked together make the soul to groan.  
Their burdens heavy yea 'tis such as they,  
Draws in in cartropes (as the Prophets say)  
But if thou wilt needs to perdition run,  
And follow on that chase thou hast begun,  
If thou wilt make thy body (in few words)  
A filthy Cask, or Cage of unclean birds,  
If that same soul, which should a Temple be,  
And dedicated to God's Majesty,  
Must now be made (it grieves me to express)  
A stew for Harlots and licentiousness.  
Yet let not thy oppression be the means  
For to maintain such prostituted queans,  
That do expose themselves to public shame,  
" One sin's enough: shun thou oppressions name.  
I know indeed what was of Ahab told  
Is grown a story now exceeding old.  
His mouldered bones and ashes who can find,  
Yea his example's quite worn out of mind,  
Since for most part, men's corpse 's no sooner rotten,  
Then they and all their actions be forgotten.  
The stories old indeed, its true they say,  
Yet is the use experienced every day,  
" Each day we see a silly Naboth slain,  
" And every day a wicked Ahab reign.  
Who if he see one plat of ground that is  
Delightful in his eye, or bordering his;  
Whether't be vineyard, garden, or that land,  
(The front I mean) where Naboth's house doth stand,  
He cannot be content till he has got,  
By fraud or violence, that same neighbouring plot.  
For like an eyesore, it did ever grieve him,  
Nor using gained it, would he ever leave him.  
Yet for all this, our modern Ahabs they,  
No sooner hear what sacred Scriptures say,  
Of that example, than they strait begin,  
To give a curse to Ahab and his sin.  
Who made no bones (poor Naboth to deny him)  
To have one little Vineyard lying by him.  
Cruel he was, say they, and well deserved  
His punishment; for he was rightly served.  
To be deprived of all, life, realm, and crown,  
That would not suffer Naboth have his own.  
Yea the reward did fit his Tyrant-hart,  
Despoiled of all, that spoiled the poor of part.  
So their own judgements (most unhappy Elves)  
That thus pronounce the sentence on themselves.  
Their own mouths do condemn them, for by this  
Each prove their guilt by th'guilt they show of his.  
Wherhfore as Nathan did to David say,  
Taking Vriahs' life and wife away,  
Where he proposed this question thereupon.  
Of him had many Sheep, another one:  
Wherein indeed the Prophet shadowed,  
That fact which David to Vriah did,  
Which when that good King heard, as th'Scripture saith  
He answered strait, he hath deserved death,  
Thou art the man (quoth he) so sure I am,  
I may be bold to say thou art the man.  
Thou Ahab, thou that by extortion gains,  
Some Skreads of Land to better th● demains.  
Thou that triumphs in wrongs, and brings the cry  
And curse of widows to thy Family.  
Thou that with dainties dost that carrian feed,  
That maw of thine, while such do beg their bread,  
As thou oppressed, (to their extremest wrong,)  
Thou art the man, I'll sing no other song.  
Dost thou not yet relent? no streams of grace,  
Thrilling or trickling from thy blubbered face▪  
No sign of reformation? Las I see,  
Custom in sin cannot relinquished be  
Upon the instant, wherefore I must set  
My resolution not to leave thee yet,  
And howsoe'er thou take it, I will go,  
Yet further with thee I'll not leave thee so,  
Two special motives I might here produce,  
To move thee to a conscience, and to use.  
A christianlike respect to such as be,  
Ordained by God for to live under thee▪  
The first is: to have eye unto that form  
O● image, which doth every man adorn,  
Even his creators image, which might move  
Us to love him for his creators love.  
The second is: a due especial care,  
Or a consideration what we are,  
Men; and in that we should be humbler still,  
" Since best of us, are Tenants but at will:  
On which two branches briefly I'll dilate,  
Or rather cursively so shadow at,  
As seeing his Form, thy little cause of pride,  
This good survey may make thee mortified.  
The comely feature which is given to man,  
Implies the place from whence this creature came,  
Even from that fragrant garden of delight,  
That Spicy Eden, where in our maker's sight,  
He did enjoy far more than tongue can tell,  
Till from that height he to corruption fell:  
Yet still retained his form which first was given him  
In Paradise, whence now the Lord had driven him?  
So precious was this form (as he who made it,  
For as we read in Scripture, where he said it,  
Let us make man after our Image: he  
Saw in this form (I say) such majesty  
As he who (in his mercy fast did make it)  
Becoming man of God, vouchsafed to take it.  
So that what th' first man Adam did before  
Christ, th' second Adam as man, did restore.  
Thou sees this Image then how it was given  
And represented by the God of heaven,  
Who in his great compassions, thought 't no scorn,  
That the Creator take the creatures form.  
And how canst thou (irreverent wretch) disdain  
That form which thy Creator did retain?  
How canst despise that image, or presume  
To wrong that shape thy Saviour did assume?  
How canst thou press that soul with discontent,  
Which thy Redeemer deigned to represent?  
How canst abuse that type for hope of pelf,  
Which Christ thy lover shadowed in himself?  
How canst thou see that image racked to be,  
Which in thy Christ was racked and rend for thee?  
How canst endure to have that soul bereft,  
Of all relief, and to have nothing left,  
Driven from his house, forced from his Tenant-right,  
When he that is the way truth, life and light,  
Taking his form to satisfy for sin,  
Had not so much as house to hide him in.  
Birds had their nests, and every beast his den,  
Yet had not he what was permitted to them.  
O let me now persuade, be not extreme,  
(Its easy says the Proverb) to wade the stream,  
Where th'foord's at lowest, recollect to mind.  
His noble image, and in it thou'lt find,  
Such singular impressions of regard,  
As I do think thou'lt honourt ' afterward.  
When thou obseru's, there's nothing that's in him,  
Was not before in Christ excepting sin.  
O then refine the aim of thy intents,  
In raising rents, think on thy saviours rents.  
In taking of advantage, think on this,  
If God advantage take for each amiss,  
In what a case wert thou, how woe-begon,  
That of a thousand cannot answer one?  
If thou to grieve Gods little ones begin,  
Think therewithal, that thou art grieving him.  
Who in his mercy hares the widows cry,  
And in his pity wipes the Orphans eye,  
Which thou hast cause to think on, so much rather  
Sith God's the widow's judge, the orphans Father:  
And though earth's justice, be of th'second sight,  
Yet he's so just, he'll do the poorest right.  
But if man's Image, which were strange, should fail,  
With thy remorseless conscience to prevail,  
From that transparent Mirror, I'll descend,  
Though it may seem in it to comprehend  
All human glory, yea I may say more,  
The form of God which he assumed before,  
Unto that due observance, or that care,  
Whereby we come to acknowledge what we are.  
Man's of a substance mean, having his birth,  
As his first native Mother, from frail Earth,  
Brittle's his composition, and so weak,  
Be his resolves, as he can undertake  
Nought with so firm a purpose as may stand,  
Or will not change with th'turning of a hand.  
His health's a stranger to him, for when most,  
It seemeth with him, it is soon lost;  
For his abiding, he's as in a Tent,  
Wherein he's militant, not permanent.  
The world's his camp, his professed enemies,  
Wherewith he is to grapple, they be these.  
The turbulent affections of his mind,  
Which every hour is severally inclined.  
The goal which he doth aim at, or th'reward,  
After the fight, he looks for afterwards:  
Thus thou may see, in this same earthly cell,  
Though dwell we seem, indeed, we do not dwell,  
But foiourne: It's no mansion but an Inn,  
Zion's our home, this pilgrimage is sin.  
As for our states, we are but leacers all,  
And shall be put off, when he's pleased to call,  
Yea I may rather say (and not amiss)  
We are the Lessees, he the Lessour is.  
And howsoe'er our Lands-Lords make account,  
They're but inferior Lords, he's Paramount.  
Then if thou wilt but duly look upon't,  
Thy tenure stands upon a tickle point,  
Yea I do find thy state not worth a straw,  
If I have any judgement in the law:  
And why shouldst thou bring poor men into suit,  
Sith thou thyself hast no state absolute,  
But for thy term of life: so as methinks,  
When that French gibberish to my brainpan sinks  
Where john a Styles and 's neighbour john an Okes,  
With many other Law-baptized folks,  
Are brought in seized of land, as they do find,  
In Burrow, English, Soccage, Gavell-kinde,  
Fee-tail, feesimple (it oft seems to me)  
These Lawyers are the simplest men that be;  
Who are persuaded (and would have us too)  
But let's descent from them:— there's fools enough:  
That of all states and Tenors are possessed,  
Or can be had, fee-simple is the best.  
Whereas I think, if well they understood,  
What specially concerned them, and their good.  
They would conclude, fee-simple will not do,  
A double-Fee is better of the two.  
If we could find indeed a difference,  
In th'lives of th' tenors, than there were some sense  
To say, that such a tenure were the strongest;  
Because by it the Tenant lives the longest.  
But tell me, are not all estates that be  
Subject alike to mutability:  
To the possessor you will say they are;  
If unto him, why should we further care,  
Since as the Proverb is, when he is gone,  
The world's gone with him, as all in One:  
O than thou earthbred worm, why shouldest thou vaunt,  
As if thou wert a Lord predominant.  
Why shouldst triumph o'er th'meaner sort of men,  
Since thou'rt composed of one self Mould with them?  
Thou art but Adam's son, and so are they,  
Both of you framed and fashioned of one clay,  
Both have one image: then compassion take,  
If not for them, yet for their image sake.  
For though thou canst not one good look afford,  
To these poor snakes, they're dear unto the Lord,  
As is thyself, as precious in God's eyes,  
Bought and redeemed with as great a price.  
And though there be twixt Substitutes and Kings,  
Superior states, and lower underlings,  
A difference in the world, yet there shall  
Twixt them (in heaven) no difference be at all,  
Only what's good shall approbation have,  
With King and subject, conqueror and slave.  
O then receive the bowels of compassion,  
And bear like mind, as thou dost bear like fashion:  
Let thy unrighteous Mammon get thee friends,  
That when thy pilgrim days of Labour ends,  
Thou may possess a glorious heritage,  
After the period of this pilgrimage.  
My lessons are but short, pray then remember,  
As thou the welfare of thy soul dost tender.  
" The best of us are tenants but at will,  
" And stand in hazard of disseisure still.  
And though our states seem firmer than the rest,  
They are uncertain tenors at the best.  
In brief, thou earthly Landlord strive to be,  
As thou wouldst have heavens Landlord towards thee  
Not too extreme: thou know'st the doom is given,  
That not extortioner shall enter Heaven.  
Resolve what thou wilt do: for though it grieve me  
To leave thee yet, I am enforced to leave thee,  
And turn unto thy Tenant, who dismayed,  
Stands here at door to hear what I have said.   

To the Tenant howsoever.  
WHat state soever thou art seized on,  
Or in what Tenure thou dost hold upon,  
I'll now address my speech in brief to thee,  
Wherein I aim in part to comfort thee,  
In part to rectify what may seem ill,  
In thy perverse and un-conformed will;  
That in them both for th'love which I do owe,  
To him thou represents, I may so show,  
That dear affection which we're bound to bear,  
To one another while we sojourn here,  
As when an end of all our sorrows are  
Reduced to one set period, and our care  
Shall have a final end, what I have done,  
" In love may be approved when I am gone.  
To move thee unto comfort, in a word,  
I'll use th'persuasion which I gave thy Lord,  
To humble his ambitious spirit, when  
I told him of the different state of Men,  
How in the eyes of men indeed they were  
Esteemed great, but when they should appear,  
Before that high Tribunal, where all should,  
(Though if they might avoid it, many would,)  
Make their appearance, than the great should know,  
They were no more respected than the low:  
One advocate, one judge, one bar one trial,  
Conscience the only difference, when Denial,  
Sealed with abite, or th'accursed doom,  
Or th'invitation with Venite come,  
Shall in that general judgement there express,  
Or weal, or woe, or hell, or happiness:  
" So as when all are summoned fore that seat,  
It's better to be good, then to be great.  
For then, as well it may be understood,  
They only shall be great that are found good.  
But thou wilt ask, is there no comfort else?  
Yes that there is, thy daily labour tells,  
There's a reward of glory that's reserved,  
For such as have their Master duly served,  
In their vocation: there's a penny too,  
Which though it be not given unto thee now,  
Yet be assured, (for he that spokeed is true)  
" When th'evening comes, thou shalt receive thy due.  
And though thou seem a little while to stay,  
Do not repine, it's th'evening crowns the day.  
Wouldst know what I by th' Evening do intend?  
I mean the sunset of thy life or end  
Of all thy pilgrim days, which though they be,  
A very death, or Martyrdom to thee,  
(So little joy conceau's thou upon earth,)  
Yet will thy Comic end include thy mirth,  
When from this Vale of labour and of care,  
Thou shalt unto a mount of joy repair.  
When from this floating Sea, this fading cell,  
Thou shalt depart, and with thy Saviour dwell.  
Yea on thy deathbed thou art comforted,  
Thinking how truly thou hast laboured.  
How many careful nights thou hast orepast,  
Without the least of rest, how thy repast,  
Was not delighfull feeding with excess,  
But th' bread thou eat was mixed with carefulness▪  
No hour without affliction or some grief,  
And now to find to all thy woes relief  
It may no little solace the, when th'end  
Of discontents shall bring thee to a friend  
That will in arms of charity receive thee,  
Where being lodged, no woe, no want can grieve thee.  
Happy translation, and by so much more,  
In that those Lordings which triumphed before,  
And played upon thy weakness, now shall stand,  
To th' doom which those oppressors of the land▪  
Are subject to: tell me (poor wormling) then,  
What difference there will be twixt thee and them?  
Great were they here indeed, and did resemble,  
Those Bulls of Basan, yet see how they tremble,  
How quick their powerful greatness is made small,  
For little is their pomp, or none at all:  
See, see these Cedars now are struck with thunder,  
And though they once sat high, their now brought under  
Those glorious titles which gave wings to pride,  
Those gorgeous buildings made them deified.  
Those many state-attendants, more or less,  
Like Sommer-Swallows following their success.  
Are vanished, ruin'd, and dispersed quite,  
there's none of these can come into their sight,  
Yea which is worse instead of Eminence;  
There is an enemy called Conscience,  
That still disturbs their quiet and their rest:  
Which if at peace there were continual feast.  
But that's impossible, such means as these;  
Have in themselves a thousand Witnesses,  
And these poor snakes cause they did here contemn them,  
Shall with their Conscience stand there to condemn them,  
Where that same place, they are appointed to  
Shall Tophet be, their word, ye cursed go.  
Thou seest then no difference doth appear,  
Twixt thou and them save only when you're here  
A little garish vanity there is,  
Which doth include that happiness of his,  
Who seems so popular, yet thou shalt see,  
From thence is drawn his greatest misery.  
For (tell me) doth no that external state,  
Make him forget whereto he was create  
Doth't not be ●ull his soul in sins delights,  
(Not knowing how the flesh 'gainst spirit fights,)  
Whereby he comes, which is the worst of all,  
To bring his reason to his senses thrall.  
Yea I have heard of many great men's end,  
So full of fear and horror▪ as God send  
Me less delights on earth, so I may have,  
A quiet easy passage to my grave.  
" For reason doth inform me, rare it is,  
That earth's delight should bring a man to bliss▪  
More could I speak to comfort thy distress,  
And more I was determined, I confess,  
To insist on thy affliction, but I found,  
By my Experience this especial ground,  
Held ever firm when we do comforts touch,  
Such is man's nature he will take too much,  
Rather than too too little, yea it's said;  
More have through store of comforts surfeited,  
The● such as from all outward solace p●nt,  
Have famished been through inward discontent.  
With gedeon's soldier therefore priest I am,  
Rather to lap, and like a jonathan,  
To touch the honey only with my rod,  
Then on this subject make too long abode.  
Which that I may, from comfort I'll descend,  
To faults in the which I would gladly mend.  
That God commands from whom proceeds all power,  
" Let each be subject to's Superior.  
For it would breed confusion in the Land,  
If people did admit of no command.  
But like a Plato's Commonwealth, should be,  
Subject to none, but in equality.  
Therefore that Lord, who of his grace doth love us,  
Hath ranked some below us, some above us.  
Above us that we might be cautioned thence,  
To show unto them due obedience.  
Below us, that we might thereby express,  
To them our love, to God our thankfulness,  
Our love, that we might our affection show,  
In love to them that ranked are so low.  
Our thankfulness, that we should more receive,  
Then other some, that more deserved have.  
Again, above us, to acknowledge here,  
Without that power above, how weak we are.  
Below us, that if we unhappy Elves,  
Should grudge to see some greater than ourselves,  
By seeing these we might suppose they're sent,  
By their degree to bid us be content,  
In this same decent comely order then  
Of high and low, great and inferior men,  
Thou ranked art, nor richest, nor most poor,  
For thou seest many go from door to door,  
Whose scrips their store, whose wallet is their wealth,  
Whose staffe's their stay, whose treasure is their health.  
Now in thy rank there's many things I wish  
Thou wouldst reform, which I do see amiss.  
" As first for all thy poverty and want,  
Thou hast a disposition arrogant:  
Rash, heady-selfe-wild, prouder than thy state  
Can well bear out, extremely obstinate,  
Foolishly peremptory, saucy with all,  
Besides I see in thee (I must tell all)  
A factious wavering nature, apt to rise  
Through discontent, in any enterprise.  
A very jack Straw, or a custom as●e,  
Alleging such records as never was.  
A pest ' lent member to the kingdoms quiet,  
Prone to division, enmity and riot,  
Sour of discord, selfe-conceitedly  
Wise, yet I cannot we●l imagine why.  
Yea, I have seen, some of thy crew to gather,  
Like wild-geese for the wagging of a feather,  
Making strange combinations, which did tend,  
Still to their own subversion in the end.  
Some Term ago on one I chanced to light,  
Was come to town to try his tenant-right,  
With whom discoursing, he imparted to me,  
'mongst other things how most injuriously  
He and the rest which held one tenure there,  
About their state or title troubled were,  
And therewithal alleged that he could show,  
Customs and discords (so he said) enough,  
And that from Noah's indignation, when  
Of all the world there were but left 8 men;  
No, this is true, quoth he, I will assure ye,  
Without delayer pannelled a jury:  
Where those 12. men (the number scarce holds right)  
Rising to 12, that were before but eight,  
Found that our ancestry did hold in pottage,  
Now I imagine he did mean in Soccage,  
Which to make sure, this Custom speaks for us,  
And he with that draws forth a Mittimus.  
This I may swear, more than a sennet after,  
I could not think on, but was forced to laughter.  
But now to thee, for I have done thee wrong,  
To keep me from discourse with thee so long,  
Whom I resolved to have advertised,  
Of these precedent errors mentioned;  
" Conform thy will unto thy Lords command  
In fitting things, thou liv'st upon his land.  
And art his liedge-man, therefore thou shouldst sho  
Thyself to him, as thou thyself dost owe.  
Unto the Heir to, a respect is due,  
For time may come when he shall pleasure you.  
Yet mean I not that thou shouldst pay a Fine,  
Unto the heir now in his Father's time,  
" For if I were an heir as I am not,  
" Believe it I would think that fine ill got.  
What I do wish to the is briefly this,  
Success in thy estate, as thou wouldst wish,  
Conformed so unto thy Land's Lordheire,  
That with heavens Landlord thou may live elsewhere▪  
FINIS.   

LOVES LABYRINTH: OR The true-lovers knot: INCLUDING The disastrous falls of two star-crossed Lovers PYRAMUS & THYSBE. A Subject heretofore handled, but now with much more propriety of passion, and variety of invention, continued:  
By RICHARD BRATHWAYTE.  
Res est soliciti plena timoris amor.  
At London printed by I. B. for Richard Redmor and are to be sold at the West door of Paul's at the Star. 1615.   

CANDIDO ET cordato, Amico faelici Genio, perspicaci ingenio, Richardo Musgrave de Harcley Baronetto, coque titulo vere digno: Richardus Brathwaite hosce extremos Amatorum amplexus, grati animi permitias, solennique officio, perfunctas humillime Dedit, Dicavit, Dedicavit.  
Richardus Musgraveensis.  
ANAGRAMM.  
Charus musis diurna reges.  
Dystichon.  

Sicut amas Musas, Musis redamaris ab ipsis,  
Charus ut es Musis, secla diurna reges.    

Upon the Dedicatory.  
I Hear one ask me, if I could find none,  
To dedicate this Poem to, but one  
That's now transplanted to another sphere,  
And better measures sings than any's here.  
It's true indeed, the world's large and wide,  
And many were there I confess beside,  
My now deceased- Patron, I could find,  
But none so well agreeing with my mind;  
He was one that I honoured, and his worth  
Deserved a pregnant Muse to set it forth,  
Which though I have not I will show my best,  
To crown him sleeping in the bed of rest,  
Where, while I write, my passion shall appear,  
By each lines accent mixed with a tere:  
But you will say this subject cannot move,  
Such firm impression, cause it treats of love,  
A sadder strain would better fitting be  
" Drained from the streams of grave Melpomene,  
Where every sentence might that passion breed,  
" as if himself were here portrayed indeed;  
This I could do and so express him too  
(But that his worth would be a shame to you.  
That are desertless to see him by Fate  
Lopped, that has left you much to imitate,  
Of honour I dare say, (which ere't be long,  
" May be a subject to a better song.)  
But I would have you know how ere this is,  
It was from th'cradle nat'ralized his:  
Nor would I raze my Patrons dedicate,  
" How ere he seemed to be obscured by Fate,  
But as I loved him living, my desire  
Is to express my love unto him higher  
Being now dead; that though my friend be gone,  
Yet life and death to friendship may be one:  
For th'print of love if it be stamped aright,  
Is most in heart when it is least in sight.  
FINIS.   

UPON THE PREMAture death of the most Generous and Ingenious; the right Worshipful, Sir RICHARD MUSGRAVE Knight-Barronett of Hartley: Who died in Italy, being prevented of his religious purpose, intending to visit the holy Sepulchre of our Saviour in jerusalem, an EPICEDIUM: The Author Dedicates these Obit-teres, unto his virtuous and modest Lady, the much honoured FRANCIS MUSGRAVE, Daughter to the truly honourable PHILIP LORD WHARTON.  

His Ladies Obit-teres.  
TEres I do shed, yet are they shed in vain,  
Nor can they call him back to life again:   

A funeral Elegy.  
Yet sigh I will, to  
wake him from his  
sleep,  
Thus whilst he sleeps  
in Earth, on Earth  
i'll weep.  
So my sad groans sent forth unfeignedly  
May move the hardest heart to pity me,  
To pity me, that  
though I cannot  
have  
The privilege to  
see my husband's  
grave  
Yet may my tears (as me it doth beh●ue)  
Transported be to testify my love:  
My love which ever  
shall these obites  
keep,  
She can do very  
little cannot  
weep.    

Richardus Musgraviensis. ANAGRAMM. Vnis resurgam charus diis. Dystichon.  
Nascimur & morimur: sed tu moriendo resurges,  
Gratior & sanctis, charior atque deis.  
De profectione eius ad  
Sanctiss. Christi  
Sepulchrum.  
Christus erat pretium, Christi quia morte sepulchrum▪  
perlustrare cupis▪ quem moriendo capis.   

Richard Musgrave. ANAGRAMM. Grace's reward him: or We admire his grace.  
Two Anagrams included in one verse.  

Distich.  
Grace's reward him, we admire his grace,  
Serve both as proper Mottoes for this place:    


A funeral Elegy.  
The first t'express the hope of his reward,  
Whence is implieed our comfort afterward.    


Upon his Grave.  
In Musgraves' hearse I find the Muse's grave,  
For by his loss a Patron lost they have:  
Yet he's not lost, but is ascended higher,  
And sings with Muses of the heavenly choir.    


His Character.  
Fair England gave me breeding, birth, and name,  
jerusalem was th'place where I did aim,  
But lo my saviours grave I could not see,  
For my own grave was made in Italy.    


Unto the Italian.  
Do not contemn my corpse Italian,  
I am th'remainder of a Gentleman,  
Who knew what honour was: so aftertime  
May show like love to thee, thou shows to mine.    


Unto Report.  
To speak well of the dead is charity,  
If thou be then a Christian, tax not me  
Of what I did: (if men, we're prone to fall,)  
Speak what is well, or do not speak at all.   
More fidelium est Transitus 

(de Morte two Vitam.  
(de Fide two Noritiam.  
(the Agone two Bravium.  
(de Peregrinatione two Patriam.  
(the Labour two Refrigerium.  
(the Expectatione two Praemium.  
(de Mundo two Deum.    BERNARDUS. 
Peregi officium morientis amici.   

To all unhappy Lovers.  

COme near me lovers, crossed by lovers fate,  
And see these star-crossed lovers, that their sight,  
May something cheer the drooping of your state,  
Showing such beams of comfort in the night,  
Of your discomforts: that both love and hate,  
" May make you happy lovers by renew,  
" Had to these lovers crossed as well as you.   

You say you loved; it's true: and so did these;  
" You say you loved a fair one; so did he,  
Who fancied Thisbee; you say lovers peace,  
Is seldom purchased but by enmity,  
Derived from parents: so did love increase,  
" In these unhappy Lovers, who were crossed,  
By Parent's means, of what they fancied most.   

Tell me then hapless lover, hast thou cause  
To grieve at that which others have endured,  
As if thou wert quite privileged from laws,  
Firm in thyself, from lovers hate secured,  
" O no, believe it, prickles hath the Rose,  
" The sweet her sour; the honeybee her sting,  
" Love though a toy, yet she's a toil something.   

Repose thee then unhappy lover here,  
And see loves fall in tragic measures framed,  
That when thou seest a lover lose his dear,  
Thou of like chance may never be ashamed  
Since thou art but as other lovers were.  
" For shame it's none, to lose what's scarce begun,  
" But shame is't not to do what should be done.   
Your passion-pittier, Richard Brathwaite.   

The Author upon his infant Poem.  
IF oughtst amiss, imputed let it be,  
Tothth' time wherein this Poem it was writ,  
Which was (I must confess) my infancy  
Of Age, Art judgement, Knowledge, and of Wit:  
Nor do I think it would this time befit,  
To meddle with my youth's minority.  
Unpolished and unhewd, I therefore send it  
Freely toth' World, that she may friendly mend it.   

Upon the Press.  
Tried would I been byth' Country, Bench, & Prince,  
Yet but a month ago, no longer since,  
Was I for speaking (as it may be thought)  
And not for silence to the press thus brought,  
judge you my friends what conscience there is in't:  
By th' weights I bear the errors of the Print.   

The Argument of Pyramus and Thysbe.  
children's love and Parents hate,  
Pure affection crossed by fate.  
True their love, so true to either,  
That they choosed to die together.  
Courteous woodnimphs, Tigers fierce,  
" Wash with tears their doleful hearse,  
Myrtle branches, roses sweet.  
" satires strew about their feet.  
Woodnimphs with their Siren's voice,  
Call their parents by their noise.  
Who with pace (slow pace God wot,)  
" Made hast they could, yet hasted not;  
Till they saw their children lie,  
" Arm in arm full lovingly.  
Oft they sought, but all in vain,  
To bring life to them again.  
Trickling tears came dropping down,  
" Groves with tears were overflown,  
Water mixed with crimson blood,  
" Made a deluge where they stood.  
This bees obsequies they see,  
" graven in an Olive tree,  
Their bones to ashes they do burn  
And place them in one sacred urn.  
That as their love was all in all,  
So they might have one Burial.  
To this shrine, this statue fair,  
lovers wont for to repair.  
Who to confirm their sincere Love,  
Offered them a Turtle Dove.  
But when their relics scattered were,  
Maids near after offered there  
Their wont incense, but forsook,  
The Altar which was wont to smoke,  
With myrrh and thime, which they did burn,  
With solemn rites about their urn.  
Yet lest their fame should so decay,  
Their tomb is to be seen this day,  
Which first erected was to be,  
Conserver of their memory.   

Pyramus and Thysbe.  
Nimrods' fair City, beauteous Babylon,  
which admirations eyes once gazed upon,  
Though graced in all, in nought so gracious,  
as in her Thysbe, and young Pyramus.  
Thysbe a maid as fair, as fair could be,  
he for his sex, was full as fair as she.  
These two resplendent stars, shone in one sphere,  
and by contiguate mansions bordering near,  
Renewed their loves unhappy memory,  
pressed down too much by parent's jealousy.  
Ay me too jealous, to prevent that good,  
of sincere love which cannot be withstood.  
These two debar'rd of meeting, not of loving,  
for love, though smothered, hath an inward moving  
Sought means to show their mutual love by wooing,  
supplying that in words, they missed in doing.  
Their walls abutting neree, so near did meet,  
That these two Saints might each another greet.  
A chink there was, which Thysbe soon espies,  
for maids in wanton feats, have Lynceus eyes.  
Which being seen (well seen) she did repair  
each morn betime to see if he were there:  
At last he spies it, (men have duller wit,  
than women have, yet better manage it.)  
This cranny was the shrine to which they came,  
where either called on other, by their name.  
And with devotion each to other kneeled,  
protesting love, hid love, so long concealed.  
Why should our Parents, Pyramus would say,  
seek to protract our loves by long delay?  
Or why should we, with such preciseness shun,  
that which our parents long before have done?  
Suppose their love was pure: our love's as pure,  
they full as fond as we, were drawn to th'lure.  
And why, my Thysbe, should that comely face,  
for all her feature, have a ciphers place?  
Thou art no shadow, but a substance (dear)  
in substances, impressions best appear.  
Then for my love, thy joy, and beauty's sake,  
that seems eclypsed, let me th' impression make.  
Le's to the field, ay me, we cannot go,  
we are immured within the grate of woe;  
And why should I, fond man, my Thysbe move,  
to wanton pleasure? where's no use of love;  
I know thou lov'st, in that thy grief is more,  
penned from that St which thou would fain adore.  
Thysbe stood peeping through this narrow chink  
and though she spoke nought, yet she more did think,  
Her blush, her smile, her bittng of her lip,  
did all the secrets of her heart unrippe.  
Thus whilst they stood both standing at a bay,  
wishing some private passage, or some way,  
To consummate their vows: in comes her mother,  
which made them take their leave one of another.  
She skoold her daughter: what my tricksy girl,  
are you besotted with this worthless pearl,  
This beauty's blossom? fair enough, but poor,  
dote on the rich, affect his rags no more.  
Mother (quoth Thisbe) you are much decaued,  
if I may speak with reverence, he near craved  
Love at my hands: what did he here, quoth she,  
that he so private should discourse with thee?  
He is (quoth Thisbe) come from Salamine,  
and brought me grapes, plucked from that tender vine  
Aetolus planted, which she gave in haste,  
unto her mother, praying her to taste:  
She took and tasted: fruits variety  
served at that time for her Apology.  
The pitchy shade of night approached at hand,  
when Screech-owls, Fauns, and satires have command  
Where skipping in their lawn and flowery grove,  
Sylvan to Sylvan consecrates his love.  
Yet when each chirping bird, goes to her nest,  
loves eyes be open, and can take no rest.  
Beasts to their caves resort, surcease to prey,  
feeding on that they purchased by the day.  
Each creature in his kind disposed to sleep,  
but fervent love continual watch doth keep▪  
He tosseth in his bed, wishing it day,  
hoping thereby his cares to throw away.  
Yet when the night is past, the day yields more,  
then ere the night afforded him before.  
Thus Pyramus enthralled twixt hope and fear,  
hopes, though small fruit of hope in him appear.  
He cannot sleep nor wake, but twixt them both,  
sleeping and waking as a letharge doth.  
Oft would he hug his pillow in his arm,  
and cling it fast about, to keep it warm.  
Supposing it was Thysbe, and would swear,  
no creature ere could be more welcome there,  
Straight would he call on Hymen, then invite,  
his friends and kinsfolk to his nuptial rite.  
And feigning their replies, thanks he would give,  
vowing requital once, if he should live.  
Oh what distractions haunt a lovers mind  
passing those bounds which nature hath assigned,  
Nought upon earth, but limits hath we see,  
but boundless love can near contained be.  
Herbs yield a sovereign cure to every wound,  
but for loves cure, in herbs no virtue 's found.  
Then blest is he, and in an happy state,  
who for loves dart is made invulnerate.  
Yet was it hard to see and not to love,  
Thysbe's admired beauty, which could move,  
Serpents, birds, plant's brute beasts which graze & feed,  
more than ere Orpheus with his music did.  
Her golden tresses, pure ambrosian,  
Fairer than all the twists Arachne span,  
Shone far more bright than Phoebus' glistering rays,  
by all men's judgements, meriting more praise;  
Her coral lip, (no lip) but ports of pleasure,  
which seemed to open to whole mines of treasure,  
Appeared so sweet, that all was sweet about it,  
for I am sure nought could be sweet without it.  
Her breasts two ivory mounts, mounts may I call them  
for many vales of pleasant veins impaled them  
These like two borders, did such sweets display,  
that who lodged there, lodged in the milky way.  
Below a shady vale, ay me that shade,  
which nature in her own despite had made,  
Had made for glory of that sacred mount,  
with the sweet Nectar of a lively fount.  
A still distilling fount, an heavenly river,  
for there's no earthly spring can spring for ever.  
Her wanton gate, her glance, her smile, her toying,  
all joyed in one, showed pleasure in enjoying.  
So as ᵇ Euphrates, where this city bounded,  
vents up his passions, for he oft resounded  
Beating his banks, and echoing in the air,  
and then retiring back, seemed to despair.  
That Thysbe could not love a senseless one,  
at which repining, he would make his moan.  
Hath not my current ere renowned been,  
for th'easy passage of my quiet stream?  
Hath not my torrent yielded much content,  
to gild his means, whose means where wholly spent?  
Have I not suffered much? sustained great pains,  
fraughting your travail with a double gains.  
And for supporting of so many ships,  
may not Euphrates graze upon her lips,  
Whom thus he loves? unthankful coast (quoth he)  
respecting lest, who did the most for thee.  
This being said, he could express no more,  
but in a lovesick passion, bet the shore.  
And to ᶜ confirm, what I have heard men say,  
he left his course and took another way.  
If senseless rivers that were never seen  
to love, or care for loving, held no mean,  
In their affecting Thisbe: what should he  
that had both sense and reasons purity?  
Pure in his mind, and fair in beauties show,  
Narcissus second for his comely hue:  
Lipped like Adorni is, Frycina loved,  
shaped like Alexis Pollyos approved.  
Graced with a smiling countenance, which did breed,  
a lovely white, mixed with a comely red.  
Two sparkling eyes piercive as Diamond,  
which, wheresoe'er they gas'd, they seemed to wound,  
That though the Sun were set, yet his bright eyes  
shone as the Beams which from the sun do rise:  
The night being gone, too long god wot in going,  
her wandering lights to Tethis banks bestowing,  
Titan came peeping in at Thyisbes' chamber,  
whom she reflected with her locks of amber.  
Each other greeting, as if had been there,  
two Suns at once, both in one hemysphere.  
Hard was the combat, but more hard it were,  
to tell whose beams diffused their light most clear,  
Yet in the end Titan in an angry mood,  
seeming surpassed, did hide him in a cloud.  
Thysbe puts on her clothes, blest were those clothes,  
thrice happy shade, that shadowed such a Rose,  
Where being dressed, not dressed as she would be,  
she took her to her prayers religiously.  
High heavens (quoth she) from whence all pleasures flow,  
deign some of them on Thysbe to bestow.  
For by your power, which I do much adore.  
I love but that which you have loved before.  
Thou thundering jove, did dote as well as I,  
when thou desired with Danae to lie;  
Which to effect, thou turned her to a shower.  
a Golden shower her beauty to deflower,  
For clothed in lightning, Danae denaied,  
to join with thunder: afterward arrayed  
In dewy moisture, (moisture we do love,)  
she cast off shame, and did thy shape approve.  
And juno loves Ixion for his kiss,  
Venus, Adonis, for his comeliness.,  
Daphne (poor Laurel) chased by Apollo,  
running as fast before as he did follow▪  
Thus did your love, your lust, your thoughts renew,  
if I think ill, I think no worse than you.  
And well may gods with women's sex dispense,  
Since they were first authorised their offence.  
My love's not spotted with lascivious touch,  
unless it be by loving overmuch.  
Nor branded with the note of Infamy,  
but pure as Delia Queen of Chastity.  
Thoughts are the worst, my actions they be clear,  
& he'se no man whose thoughts near soiled were.  
Then pardon if I love, suppose it zeal,  
whose passions be too hot for to conceal:  
Leaving her Orisons, composed of Love,  
love dallying prayers: her eyes aside she moves,  
And sees the chink▪ which she first saw before,  
which did augment her dolours much the more.  
For she recalled to mind, to memory,  
her mother's chiding, father's jealousy;  
Both which a stream of tears extract from her,  
as if pale death her comforts should inter.  
Oft would she call on lovely Pyramus,  
with smothered speech, as one suspicious:  
Lest the pure air, and walls adjoining near,  
should prattle love unto her parent's ear.  
Oft would she nibble out a stone or two,  
to make the crift seem bigger to the show  
Of her deep love: for they suspected were,  
therefore debarred, lest they should come too near.  
Pyramus penned up all this while, at last,  
gets out and hies him to the chink as fast.  
Where what discourse their mutual love afforded,  
seemed by the Gods in heaven to be recorded.  
Either with greedy eye gazing on other,  
Thysbe looked back sometimes, doubting her mother:  
For she suspected much her jealous eye,  
in her loves presence to be ever by.  
Envious brickwall oft would these lovers say,  
divide thyself and let us have a way,  
To meet, to kiss, to parley and relate,  
the solemn festives of our nuptial state.  
Why should thy marble stuctures hold us out,  
whose love encircles Babylon about?  
Or why should terrene composition move  
a breach or separaration of our love?  
Love is celestial: thou a marble shrine,  
why shouldst thou hinder love that is divine?  
And yet we cannot so ingrateful be,  
but we must offer up our thanks to thee;  
Our vows, our gifts, our best prized sacrifice,  
in that thou yields a passage to our eyes,  
Yielding some comfort in this gloomy night,  
supplying kisses with the use of sight.  
Love hath some harmony, some small agreeing,  
for what it wants in touch it hath in seeing.  
Hesperias garden was by serpents kept,  
whose ever watching eyelids never slept.  
And Colchis Fleece was kept as warily,  
till jasons means obtained the victory  
So be our loves immured, interred rather,  
by two suspicious dames, one subtle father.  
Then would they kiss the wall and oft entreat,  
that in compassion it would let them meet.  
We will not tell our parents, nor express,  
who 'twas, gave way unto our happiness.  
lovers be faithful, of our faiths believe us,  
since this strait durance cannot choose but grieve us.  
The wall replied not: yet their words had force,  
piercing her hardness, foftned with remorse.  
For ever since, as well it may appear,  
the marble sheds each morn a Trickling tear,  
Thus did these lovers pass the weary morn,  
deprived of that which lovers best adorn,  
And that is private meeting, which being missing,  
we beat the air but with conceit of kissing,  
A vain conceit, to dally with delight,  
Expecting sunshine in a cloudy night.  
Imparadised in joys he cannot be,  
that's clad in sable robes of misery.  
Oh then conceive what sorrow he sustains,  
that in perpetual languishment remains.  
O what distractions do his joys dissever,  
feeding like vultures on his heart for ever.  
If ᶜ Zeuxes pictured grapes, so lively were;  
That many birds in flocks repaired there,  
Pecking upon his statues, and did brow see  
upon his lively grapes, mere liveles shows.  
Well may we think, that jove himself can make,  
a far more lively, and proportioned shape,  
Then a poor painter; though his Grapes seem ripe,  
yet they were drawn from Ioues first Archetype.  
Then Ioues best picture, Nature's admiration,  
Thysbe, even Thysbe made for recreation,  
May well be thought to draw each bird each beast,  
from Pastures green, upon her lips to feast.  
It were a festive banquet there to be,  
whose breath is Nectar, breathing deity.  
Here Pyramus would be, if heavens would grant it,  
for he esteems no treasure, whilst he wants it,  
Since such a jewel, such a precious Gem,  
in that it's rare, is more admired by men.  
Thus Tantalised, the Gods do seem to love him,  
setting him fruit, but fruit too far above him:  
For when his lips (pure lips) should but come nigh them  
they mock his lips and in derision fly them.  
Dost fly my lips (quoth he) o do not fly me,  
for what I do, I do it but to try thee,  
To try thy loves which though our parents thwarted  
our conjoined love disioined shall near be parted,  
Well may our bodies be disioined a sunder,  
but love's to headstrong, none can keep it under:  
Love is freeborn, it cannot servile be,  
to beg for courtesy with a bended knee.  
Thysbe kept concord, for each word he spoke,  
seemed her retired passions to awake,  
Stirred up her spirit, as inspired by fate,  
making her stout that was effeminate.  
Continue thy intendments sweet, quoth she,  
and as thy shadow I will follow thee,  
Passing a sea of dangers launching deep,  
●ill ● the shadow to the substance creep,  
Pass or't as forest, snow-clived Caucasus,  
Thysbe will follow steps of Pyramus;  
The ᶜ Riphea● Mountains, or the Hetririan plains,  
Each morn resounding with the notes of swains,  
If thou love Vin●lus, with her fragrant spices,  
or Eric●hea famous for devices:  
Thysbe will follow thee with speed she may,  
only, her travail with thy love repay.  
But these are but discourses of our ill,  
which if not cured, be augmented still.  
For that you know renews the malady,  
which rubs the sore, and yields no remedy:  
For why should any labour me remove,  
From that admired mirror whom I love.  
And I am of that nature: more they hold me,  
from fancying thee, more passions do enfold me;  
Then plot (my Pyramus,) contrive, invent,  
that we may harbour love in loves content,  
Till wearied with joy, wearied too soon,  
thou leave adoring of the watery Moon.  
Where being cloyed with the sweets of love  
mayst leave the vale, and taste the fruits above.  
Thou art my shepherd, I will be thy plain,  
I the poor cottage, thou the homely swain,  
Thou shalt refresh thyself upon my banks,  
which having done, I know thou'le give me thanks,  
For my diffused streams, streams merely sent,  
not much enforced from Thysbes' continent,  
Come then, for why should any marble wall  
being material substance, so appall  
Our ardent wishes, wishes which proceed  
from lovesick passions, which more passions feed.  
Let our distilling tears congealed in one,  
dissolve the hardness of this flinty stone.  
Remorse may move this stone by divine wonder,  
to let us meet, divide herself a sunder.  
This said, main rivers of distreaming tears,  
in their woes-torrents purblind eyes appears,  
Seeking, but seeking all in vain God wot,  
to move that shrine which weeping moved not.  
It wept to see true love so strait confined,  
disjoined by fates, which favours had combined.  
It wept to see their parents so unkind,  
to curb their body's presence, whose pure mind,  
Rapt with content of seeing, not enjoying,  
acts discontent, debarred of further toying.  
It wept to see their minds so well agreeing  
in one self place, not to have one selfe-being▪  
It wept and much repined that dismal fate,  
Should cross pure love by love-disjoined hate:  
And pitying their case shed many a tear,  
Shedding so many, she herself did were.  
Oh what hard hearted parents had these two,  
since what the stones allowed, they'll not allow,  
reproving that in theirs, themselves affected,  
soiling their youth with what their youth respected  
Are these the fruits and honours of our time,  
the fruitless blossoms of a sterile clime?  
Are these our loving Sires? oh no, they are hard,  
to press down love, that cannot be debarred.  
You high resplendent heavens, whose cherishing heat  
with seasoned warmth, our spacious borders greet,  
Temper such parents hearts, as are not won,  
till both their line and lineage be undone.  
Soften their stiffened minds, oppressed with rage,  
playing sharp tyrants in declining age.  
For why should they find fault their children play,  
since in their prime they played as much as they.  
Decrepit age, stilted for want of strength,  
with brinish tears deplores their sins at length;  
But thus I constered: They their age deplore,  
their youth is spent, and they can do no more.  
And like an envious viper, would have none,  
to use their strength, because their strength is gone.  
But old age ers in this▪ experienced wit  
sways their proceedings, youth abandons it.  
Nor do they know what hurt poor maids receive,  
to pen them up from that they wish to have.  
For though they be immured in walls of Brass,  
Love hath her loop-holes by which she will pass▪  
Inspite of jealous dotage, and espies  
some privy chink, though watched by ᵍ Lynceus eyes,  
For love enclosed like raging elements  
of fire and water, though imprisoned, vents,  
And must eruption have, it cannot be  
an heavenly motion should want liberty.  
h Eurydice though she's enforced to dwell,  
in Stygian Pluto's court infernal hell,  
Yet her transmounting passions do remove  
themselves from hell unto the earth above.  
Poor swain Dorinda though by Satyrs kept,  
in a vast cave, whose watchful eyes near slept,  
But with reflection both by night and day,  
had special care lest she should get away,  
Comforts herself in loving, fearing not,  
but chaste desires over long would get her out,  
Love is enfranchisd not in bonds retained,  
spotless as Crystal, for no soil can stain it.  
The boisterous winds shut up in iron grates,  
on each occasion and intendment waits,  
When they come forth their tempests hurry more  
grieved at their durance, than they did before.  
That morn which sends her glittering rays too soon,  
sables her sun in clouds ere it be noon.  
But when its long ere that her beams appear,  
we do presage ere night they'll shine more clear.  
ⁱ Thetis exiled from her marine seat,  
a willing exile with the Sea-nymphs meets,  
To celebrate Achilles' funerals,  
in sable robes, in dismal festivals.  
Each wept whole flouts of tears to wash his hearse,  
whereon engraven was a doleful verse;  
That no hard hearted passenger came by,  
but seeing it, would shed tears instantly:  
Some made relation of his valiant spirit,  
some of the glory which his acts did merit:  
And woeful Brusis one amongst the rest,  
being his captive, whom she loved best,  
Emburied him with liquid streams of sorrow,  
renewing grief with each renewing morrow.  
So did these lovers, lovers too sincere,  
rise ere the morning daystar could appear,  
Bewailing much their parent's frowardness,  
that kept them from the support of happiness▪  
Happy, if happy in enjoying love,  
to see the Turtle billing with the Dove,  
The skipping Kid, the Goat, the pensive Hind,  
consorting each with other in their kind:  
Yet these two lovers are debarred from this;  
what brute beasts have, they have not but in wish:  
And wishes yield small comfort, poor relief  
to such as are priest down with heaps of grief.  
O that heavens splendour, her translucent eye  
should see, and seeing, piety misery,  
Yet suffer man to be oppressed therewith,  
Making him die a never dying death.  
Or why should man endued with reason's light,  
In his own bowels harbour such a fight,  
As may subvert the palace of the soul,  
eclipsing it, making her beauty foul;  
Converting that by her depraved will,  
as first seemed good to some apparent ill;  
Not gathering honey from each bitter flower  
of discontent, nor reaping sweet of sour,  
But in distractions passionate we run,  
in headlong course till that we be undone:  
And then despairing, we reside in woe  
shut up in shelves: we know not where to go.  
The silly be that labours in her hive,  
in her Hyblaean works addresed to strive,  
With nature in proportion: seems to make,  
more for herself then nature for her sake,  
In her digesting and disposing fit,  
what she had gathered by her native wit,  
●he rests secure of love, worse hap have we,  
oppressed with lovesick passions than hath she  
But heavens have so decreed; this is our lot  
Creatures that have most reason, most should dote.  
Thus each oreshadowing evening shadowed hope,  
aiming at love, love was their only scope:  
At which they leveled: But (alas) disdain  
soaring aloft, the fruit of love retains:  
Locked from all comfort, shut from sweet repose,  
she to their parents doth their love disclose.  
Telling them how their children made repair,  
unto a chink which breathed a cooling air.  
Yielding content enough: and they should see  
that ere long time Thysbe would fruitful be.  
Their parents stamped, but Timon most of all,  
for he was rich and feared his daughter's fall.  
Yet well he could have brooked her nuptial bed,  
if he were rich that should his daughter wed.  
Fie on such Gould-adoring parentage,  
that rests respectless both of youth and age,  
Who measure love by wealth are sure to have,  
Midas his ears, deprived of what they crave,  
They wrest their children's minds to make them taste,  
the sweet of Gold, which works their bane at last.  
ᵐ Thus parents are as vipers to their seed,  
since they their venom in their bosoms feed.  
Which like to Naptha that being once inflamed,  
Burns of itself, and cannot be restrained.  
But love the more repressd the more confined,  
increaseth so much more in lovers mind.  
ⁿ For though their watchful eyes did still look o'er them,  
Gods pitying their distress did more deplore them.  
And jove himself yields sovereign remedy,  
to these two lovers fraught with misery.  
And well might jove yield comfort to their wounds,  
since he his passions on like passions grounds.  
For he (though God) did dote as well as man,  
transforming Leda to a milk white Swan.  
jove in his airy throne with piercing eyes,  
these lovers griefs from high olympus spies,  
And spying them oppressed, pressed down with loving  
their human passions force a divine moving.  
You fruitful sprigs sprung of a fruitful tree,  
I hear your plaints, and I do pity ye,  
That the joint tablet of two loving hearts  
should be divided into several parts.  
Hardhearted Parents, made of Marble sure,  
Or else they could not such distress endure,  
That their own budding blossoms which did grow,  
from their unseasoned bosom should bestow  
Their oil, their labour in affections strains,  
yet kept in thraldom by their parents reins.  
But I that have the Regiment above,  
rules Cupid's arrows, knows the use of love,  
I that have posted down from heavens high sphere,  
to Danae, Io, and the milkmaids here,  
And to Latona's beauties sacred Queen,  
yet to this hour, as jove I near was seen,  
Nor ever known, such was our divine power,  
transuming shapes of plants and roarie showers,  
Will pity your affections and apply,  
Unto your wounds are present remedy.  
For we (as men) do nought of women crave,  
but what they well may give, and we may have.  
If the oreshadowing clouds whose dusky face,  
obscures heavens splendour, Sols refulgent grace▪  
If misty vapours, foggy excrements,  
thickened by mixture of gross elements,  
If Heaven, earth, Sea, plants, stones, or serpents may  
yield you content, or can your woes allay,  
Rely on me; for Ioues high diadem,  
was first ordained to succour wretched men,  
And by the flagrant cresset of the Sun,  
we'll either see your minds united one,  
Or else my power shall contradict herself,  
Making affection vassal unto pelf,  
Which were discordant music, harsher strains,  
then ere Pan sung among his country swains  
For its not fit that handmaids should command us  
or subject powers should in their acts withstand us.  
Pelf (world's trash) in lowest rank should sit,  
love as a Mistress framed to manage it:  
For who will contemn the day, the night adore,  
set best behind, and worst part before.  
jove having in compassion seen their woes,  
to ᵒ Hesperus the evening st●r he goes,  
And bids her show her light, for by her aid,  
she might yield succour to a helpless maid,  
Hesperus roused, roused before her time  
in heavens horizon straight began to shine:  
o'er cannoping heavens beauty with a cloud,  
all which by jove himself was well allowed,  
Then wandering stars in different dignity,  
sent out their lights disparkled orderly.  
Arctophilax begotten of the bear,  
and Cassiopeia likewise did appear,  
The Pleyades, Orion, with the rest,  
Castor and Pollux, whom jove loved best;  
All these consort and make one constellation,  
at Ioues command for lovers recreation.  
The heavens be-sprinkled thus with sundry lights,  
limit the day by bringing on the night,  
To comfort wearied spirits spent with toil,  
whose troubled brains the nighttime should assoil.  
For jove at first conceiving mortal seed,  
amidst his labours some repast to need,  
Created night those cares to take away,  
which had been fostered on the toilsome day.  
Night wished night, to Lovers that desire  
to be partakers of that heavenly fire,  
Cupid (blind boy) infuseth in their breast,  
which once infused engendereth their unrest.  
But it's no matter, leave we cannot loving,  
though bitter fruits redound to our approving:  
This gloomy night yields comfort to their woe,  
For jove had shown the place, where they should go.  
To Ninus tomb, a tomb to bury grief  
shaded with covert, fit for loves relief:  
These two blessed lovers, blest in loves appearing,  
address their eye for sight, their ear for hearing.  
L●st their suspicious Parents should sift out,  
Their fond intendments which they went about:  
The Night was very dark, dark nights be best,  
For such as on the daytime take no rest.  
Since each disparkling beam which doth appear,  
yields to a jealous lover cause of fear.  
But dusky nights which Lovers best approve,  
give free access of parley unto love.  
Thisbe lovesick, for love had made her sick,  
time thus occasioned, finds a pretty trick  
To gull her keepers and her Parents too,  
which who can blame her, all that love will do:  
Deer be our Parents loves, their wills, their blessings  
by which we prosper: dearer be the kiss  
Of those we love sincerely from our heart,  
for where they be there is our chiefest part.  
No unfrequented desert can remove  
our hearts from them whom we entirely love.  
No distance can disjoin united minds,  
no labyrinth framed with Meander's winds:  
We rest the same or else it cannot be,  
that our affections ground on constancy.  
Thisbe with creeping pace paced o'er the floor,  
oiling the hinges of the creeking door,  
Lest it should show her meaning to her mother,  
whose eyes she q feared more than any other.  
For they were too too jealous and would spy,  
more in her dealing then her father's eye:  
For he was bedrid and could hardly move  
his senseless joints and knew not what was love:  
Yet this bed full of bones, this sapless wretch  
had sap within his chest, for he was rich;  
And more, for which all wisemen-may deride him,  
he ever loved to have his gold beside him:  
For on his trash he was so deeply rooted,  
that he (fond-man could never sleep without it:  
Thus had he much, yet he desired much more  
his gold, his Idol which he did adore.  
And though he had no use for that he got,  
yet he f●om raking more surceased not.  
Which punishment was first inflicted by jove,  
Rich men should have no use of what they love;  
But in an●n-bred appetite to gold,  
delight to have it every minute told:  
Which being done making an endless pain,  
they tell their trash and put it up again.  
Thus did this aged Timon: and respected,  
wealth more than youth of girls most affected,  
For richlesse was the scope he levelled at,  
he'll call none sons but men of good estate.  
Worth worthless seems, if worth have no retire,  
nor means by which their honour might aspire.  
For beggar Irus whose estate was poor,  
made Ithacus to drive him out of door.  
And seeing him arraide in beggars list,  
in furious passion slew him with his fist.  
Thus men are made respectless for their want,  
and poverty, though fair, yet whole not taunt?  
Deeming them most unfit of honour's throne,  
that have more wit than fortune of their own,  
But he that poiseth worth as worth should be,  
will not obscure true worth for poverty;  
Being the substance and main difference,  
twixt savage beasts and human excellence.  
And more is trash inferior to the mind,  
than pith of trees superior to the rind:  
Thysbe escaping, hies her to the place  
which was appointed: her admired face  
Cast such a lustre on the plains below,  
as sleepy mountains covered with snow.  
In Maiden white apparelled: maids should be  
arrayed so to show their modesty;  
Such piercing eyes she had, which shone so bright,  
that they gave day unto a gloomy night:  
So that each Wood-nimph, Faun and Satire there,  
rose from their caves perceiving light appear.  
Silvanus' god of woods and desert groves,  
his shaggy head from off his pillow moves;  
And half asleep seeing his arbour shine  
and all about him, long before his time  
He girds his quiver to him, and drew near  
to Ninus tomb, where sunbeams shone most clear:  
Where he no sooner came; ay me! too soon  
to that unlucky shrine that ominous tomb:  
But seeing her he cast all sleep aside,  
sewing, and suiting Thysbe for his bride.  
Mirror of women, best of Nature's art,  
hear a poor wood-god that hath pledged his heart  
To thee and to thy feature: heavenly queen  
that would these flowery thickets well beseem,  
Sat thee down here: this is an arbour sweet,  
where all the wood nymphs use each even to meet  
Making a concord; whose mellifluous sound,  
would glad the birds and all the desert round:  
The Nymphs shall make their prayers and renew,  
each morn their hymns, that they may pleasure you  
The Muses nine from Pyerus shall descend,  
and to our music their attention lend,  
Where if there any discord chance to be,  
Muses themselves will yield a remedy.  
There Clio, Erato, and Melpomene,  
Euterpe, Thalia, and Calliope,  
Terpsychore, Urania, and that sweet  
tongued Poly-himnia singing at thy feet  
All these shall grace thee in this rural plain,  
if thou canst brook to love a Country swain:  
Yet am I borne more high than mortal men.  
derived from gods even of immortal stem,  
ᵗ Sprung my beginning, therefore scorn not me,  
since if thou match thou match's with deity.  
The flowery shrubbs thou seest do I command,  
nay even the Cedar which so high doth stand,  
Rests at my power: there is no branch doth grow,  
whose moisture doth not from Sylvanus flow.  
The sweetest spices of Arabia,  
the preciou'st perfumes breath in Lydia,  
Smell by my means: for my celestial power,  
can make each stinking weed a fragrant flower.  
Then dear affect me, for no perfume's good▪  
if I want thee that perfumes every Wood  

Thysbees' reply.  

IF you (quoth Thysbee) as you do profess,  
derive your birth from gods than show no lesse● maid,  
For it's not fit that gods with stars arrayed,  
and heavens immortal spheres, should love a  
ᵘ A Country lass best fits a Country swain,  
his oaten pipe best suits with her harsh strain.  
Those gods that in Olympus' regiment,  
sit and bear rule scorn base elements.  
Then if you be divine, as sure you be,  
surcease your suit which yields indignity▪  
To that high offspring whence you did proceed,  
stain not your love with any mortal seed.   

Doth mine high lineage (quoth Sylvanus) show,  
that I am too divine to match with you;  
Thou art sure born of that ambrosian air,  
which is infused in me: thou art too fair  
To be of mortal race, oh do not then  
debase that fair so much to mach with men:  
Yet if thou wilt not match but with a swain,  
He be no god that I thy love may gain.  
A shepherds habit I will take upon me,  
if in that habit I may live with thee.  
For credit me (heavens saint) if thou partake  
of man, all men i'll honour for thy sake:  
Then love Silvanus, do not blush be free,  
love god or swain, Sylvanus both will be.    

Thisbees' reply.  
IT ill becomes, quoth ●he, your peerless state,  
with silly maids to be importunate:  
You should protect our weakness and defend  
our brittle sex, and ever be a friend  
To woman's weak proceedings, ceasing still  
to draw devoted Virgins to your will:  
We that are consecrate to Vesta's shrine,  
must in no lascivious meetings spend no time.  
If thou (quoth he) to Vesta dedicate  
thy vows, thy hests: what mak'st the here so late?  
For well I know dame Vesta cannot bide  
her maids should walk alone in evening tide.  
And those that mean to satisfy her will.,  
must both be chaste and fear suspicions ill.  
Thysbe stood mute, she knew not what to say,  
without reply she went a pretty way  
And could not answer, for her tripping tongue  
and modest silence told she spoke a wrong.  
For she near Vesta loved nor Vesta's order,  
but this was best excuse the time afforded her.  
Churlish Sylvanus (for he was a churl)  
so to importune a poor Country girl,  
Half mad with anger that she would not yield  
unto his suit: takes in his hand his shield,  
And raging sternly, swears he means to go,  
where he will plunge her in a depth of woe.  
Are you so coy (quoth he) that you'll deny,  
to join with gods immortal deity?  
We'll learn young girls manners if we live,  
and make them ●ew, that they our power should grieve  
With this he went fast crot●ing up the hill,  
pursuing hot the project of his will.  
Intending to command some savage beast,  
upon her, whom he loved, he liked to feast.  
And reaching near unto the hill above,  
he wagged his hand, and asked if she would love?  
But she denied him love: do you deny me?  
fond? quoth Sylvanus, savages shall try thee,  
And thy affection: which no sooner said,  
than he sent out a Lion to this Maid.  
A Lion new returned from ravening prey,  
came to the fount, his blood to wash away.  
Where with a shaking pace he seemed to come  
towards the place appointed Ninus tomb.  
But Luna pitying poor Thysbes' case,  
sends out her light, to tell her who it was  
That now approached her, whom no sooner spied,  
then in a Cave, poor Thysbe did her hide.  
But out alas for fear, she ran so fast,  
that she forgot her tire through too much haste:  
For she all breathless, and quite out of wind,  
running so fast did leave her tyre behind.  
And as one careless of her weal or woe,  
distressed thus, she knew not were to go,  
Careless of what she left or what she had,  
not knowing what was good, from what was bad.  
Yet nature grafts in all a native fear,  
by which th' event of all things do appear,  
As we conceive yield danger to our state,  
and fear by time, lest we should fear too late.  
Thus she penned up within a desert cave,  
with sobs & sighs, express what she would have,  
For in that Cave she wished her love were there,  
For loves embraces would exempt her fear.  
Oft did she think the Lion stayed without,  
and therefore trembling Thysbe made a doubt,  
To take the open air, but penned within,  
wished in her heart, she had caractred him,  
Whom she admires and loves, whose sweet respect,  
makes her to have her parents in neglect.  
But he too slow, ay me, too slow in doing,  
being so forward in his formal wooing:  
Stays too too long, being more warily kept,  
by such sharp keepers, that all night near slept:  
But as one grazing heart the rest doth keep,  
by watchful eyes warning the rest that sleep;  
So ever one was waking, that might call  
upon the rest if any thing befall:  
The Lion having quenched his scorching thirst,  
with springing water which he longed for first:  
Found Thysbes' tire, and with his bloody prey,  
besmeared the same, which done, he went away.  
Now in the end Pyramus took a time,  
a time too late to answer love divine:  
Yet in this silent course of nighterne race,  
with quick recourse he runs unto the place.  
ᶻ So that to see him frolic over the plain,  
were worth more prize then ᶻ Hipodamias gain▪  
For golden apples drew her tempting eye,  
But this young youth affects no vanity  
But the true touch of love: vain, if abused▪  
but precious as pure gold, if rightly used.  
Then who will blame us, labours to endure,  
if we by labours can our love make sure?  
For constant love no travail will eschew,  
that constant love by travail may renew.  
Alcides he can serve the Lydian queen,  
in spinning, carding, which do ill beseem  
So stout a mirrors magnanimity,  
but he must do it, there's no remedy.  
For when his manly nature did withstand it,  
one glance of her could well enough command it.  
No spacious confines nor indurate labour,  
if these o'erpast, could purchase ere her favour,  
Would he refuse: one smile reward enough,  
for all the labours he had passed through.  
Thysbe the troph●e of his breathing course,  
Thysbe the garland which doth him enforce.  
Her he respects, and whiles he runs apace,  
he meditates of Thysbes' beauteous face;  
Her comely feature made for Adonis' shrine,  
whose ivory orbs like Pelops shoulders shine,  
Had made that deep impression in his heart,  
that Nature seemed to strive with Natures Art.  
Nature had given her much, Art much the more,  
Art decking that which Nature dressed before.  
For that same creature cannot perfect be,  
where Art and nature join not mutually.  
If you would have the module of true wit,  
Nature creates, but Art must polish it.  
Thysbe was perfect both in Natures ●ew,  
and artificial colours, which did show,  
As if both Art and Nature should contend▪  
to make her such an one no skill could mend;  
For she was witty▪ pregnant, full of favour,  
Dictinna like, sent out a fragrant savour,  
That when she walked ' in Babylon's fair street,  
she made the kennel with her perfumes sweet.  
Pyramus coming, coming all too late,  
to Ninus tomb expects his beauteous mate.  
Whom when he could not find, he feared her end.  
Fear is an adjunct to a faithful friend.  
Roundly he goes unto the silver spring,  
where all the water-nimphs were wont to sing,  
In honour of their Goddess and her beauty,  
to whom they offered hymns as was their duty.  
He asked the Nymphs if they his Thysbe knew,  
describing her, and eke her matchless hue:  
And if they did, he prayed them seek about  
their Nectar springs with him to find her out,  
For if you be immortal, as you seem,  
and dedicate your service to your Queen,  
A better service sure you cannot do her,  
then to redress them owe their service to her.  
This if you will in your compassion do,  
I swear each morn I'll offer thime to you.  
Better than any Hyble, can afford,  
with music sweet to which the heavens accord,  
And ever rest devoted to your shrine,  
in that you dayn'd to glad this heart of mine.  
The water-nimphs replied with courteous cheer,  
they knew none such, nor any did appear,  
But if it pleased him, they their springs would seek,  
exquire each bushy shade, each private creak,  
To see if she were in their mansions hid,  
which he assented to; all which they did:  
But when with watery tripping they had sought  
both brake and brier; yet could not find her out,  
Wearied with their diurnal labour, left  
Pyramus sighing, of all joy bere●t;  
Yet did these nymphs bemoan his hard mishap,  
for sitting down under Nereus' lap,  
They turned their Warbling strings to that sad strain,  
that all the woods re-eccoed them again.  
Each in their order sung their doleful verse,  
as if it had been over Thysbes' hearse,  
And tuned their odes with that unseasoned time,  
as that brute beasts to pity did incline,  
For they in sable colours did portend,  
that their two loves were near a tragic end.  
Thus shady night, Sea-nymphs, stars, plan'ts & all  
presage to them and to their loves a fall.  
Yet Pyramus though sad, for he was sad  
to have those hopes extinguished, which he had,  
Seeks still about the tomb: sad tomb (quoth he)  
that hides my love, so much admired of me:  
Yet if thou wilt but tell me where she is,  
I vow by Heavens I'll pardon what's amiss,  
Yea I'll remit thine error and thy wrong,  
for keeping her within thy chest so long,  
Say, will't thou● tell me what became of her?  
Didst thou her beauty in thy shrine inter?  
Didst thou immure her in thy marble tomb?  
what makes thee silent? beauty makes thee dumb:  
Wilt thou so wrong a lover to conceal,  
From him the mirror of his joy his, weal,  
His heart, his liking even the flower of youth?  
and yet conceives within thy heart no ruth.  
Fie, fie for shame: be't fit that monuments  
should so eclipse nature's best ornaments?  
As to obscure the glory of her face,  
that where she is gives honour to the place.  
Thou much abstracts from trophies Ninus won,  
in doing that which he would near have done.  
Thou lessens much the honour he obtained,  
losing that fame which Ninus conquests gained.  
For what great gain or conquest is't t'have said,  
I have possession of a country maid.  
A young unnurtured girl fit for men,  
unfit for lifeless tombs which cover them?  
This said this doting young man, blind with loving,  
thinking old mouldy shrines had lively moving.  
Moved with her love, whom he did more esteem,  
than any gem that ere on earth was seen.  
But when he saw into his error well,  
He seemed those lovesick passions to dispel,  
And to repair unto his search again,  
seeking each covert, each unhaunted plain,  
Each thick-set hill, each grove that he might find,  
the diapason of his troubled mind.  
At last too soon, by seeking long he found,  
(Thysbe) not Thysbe, but her tire on ground.  
Unhallowed ground, unseasoned her attire, ●  
to cross the passions of an hot desire.  
Oh now conceive what sorrows gall his breast,  
to see the tire of her he loved best,  
Be smeared with blood, for it all bloody shows,  
her sanguine colour tinct● with lions jaws;  
Oft would he look upon it, and would kiss,  
the tire besmeared with blood, wishing it his,  
His fate, his fortune, to remain with her,  
since his long absence thus had injured her.  
How to remain (quoth he) since she is dead,  
oppressed by death, enclosed in mournful weed▪  
How should I live with her whose life is gone,  
and hath left me (unhappy me) alone.  
Die, die, with her, with whom thou canst not live,  
For thou by dying shalt thy life reprieve.  
And have her presence that enthroned is,  
in perfect joys of heavens Elysian bliss.  
Yet stay awhile, this is not Thysbes' tire,  
stay there (fond wretch) against thy tongue a liar.  
This was her robe, this was her comely weed,  
which having lost her owner 'gins to bleed.  
Oh jove what cause hadst thou thus to remove  
two, that had their intentions vowed to love,  
Or why should thou this fair occasion show us,  
which being shown, dost seek for to undo us?  
Be gods so iron-hearted, to require  
constant affection with a dismal spite?  
A sharp revenge it is, to set us on,  
and then to leave us when we are begun.  
Did not high jove yield us more hopes then these,  
when he commanded Phoebus to sure ease,  
For to diffuse his beams, bidding him go,  
retire in haste unto the shades below.  
Calling for Luna to supply his place,  
shrouding heavens lustre with her cloudy face.  
That our escape suspected less might be,  
by the dark vail of night's obscurity.  
But heavens I see, repine at our success,  
since Gods themselves by Fates have show'd no less,  
To plunge my weal in woe, my love in tears,  
producing nought, but sighs, and fruitless fears.  
Thou harsh tuned Nemesis, thou tragic ghost,  
against whose acts my love declaimeth most:  
What cause hadst thou to sing this doleful song,  
upon her hearse that never did thee wrong?  
She never railed against thy Sovereign power,  
but like an harmless dove, a fragrant flower;  
Flourished secure at home, yielding content,  
by graceful smiles, a maids best ornament:  
She never curbed thy rage, nor did she mell  
with aught but love, which made worst for her sell.  
But Fates have made the instrument of sin,  
respectless of our loss, so they may win.  
The precious spoil of Thysbes' bleeding soul,  
whose sad mishap the plants themselves condole.  
Yet thou remorseless art, ill may betide thee,  
that would have none to love that live beside thee.  
Yet for all this thou canst not me deprive,  
of loving her, whose life did me revive,  
For being dead, I'll rather choose to die,  
then living, lose her loving company.  
This said: he takes her tire, and kissing it,  
upon the fountain banks did water it,  
With dewy moisture of still-flowing tears,  
which being shed, renewing drops appears.  
Tears liquefied the arbour where he sat,  
which water nymphs perceiving, wondered at.  
Oft would he beat his breast, and tear his hair,  
shutting his hopes in clouds of deep despair.  
Oft would he curse the day, the hour, the night,  
that banished him from Thisbe's gladsome sight.  
Wishing that night had never been descried,  
for near did night more harsh events betide.  
Oh Pyramus, and then he sighed to speak,  
for gusts of sorrow made his heartstrings break.  
What meant thou to allure a simple maid,  
to these wild woods? her love is well repaid,  
That she should come unto the place assigned,  
and thou (base coward) come so far behind.  
Thou with a tardy pace came at thy leisure,  
such slow-paced coursers ill deserve such pleasure,  
Thou too precise, made bones of what thou did,  
such fond preciseness seldom hath good speed.  
She to enjoy her joy, cut off delay,  
that she her minds perfection might display,  
And with a course as quick as Pegasus,  
run over these plains to meet with Pyramus,  
Which thou requited ill, basest of men,  
which time shall character with scandals pen.  
A scandal to thy sex, and to thy state,  
to leave thy love in deserts desolate.  
Oh what mishap had she to love a swain,  
that could not yield her love for love again?  
Hard was her fortune to affect that creature,  
who for a childish fear delayed to meet her.  
The gods I know more forward would have been,  
to meet loves Paragon, so fair a Queen.  
As for her beauty, ay me, beauties fair,  
with Ericina she might well compare;  
And far more modest: Venus had her mole,  
but near was Thysbe stained with beauties soil.  
But thou hast stained her beauty by thy fault,  
ruin'd that fort, which never had assault,  
But by thyself, and by thyself too soon,  
since by thy means her shrine is razed down.  
Turn thee to heaven, and lo the heavens dismayed,  
to see the tragic downfall of a maid:  
Frowning at thee that was the cause of this,  
causing her end that was thy Sovereign bliss.  
Turn thee to earth, and see her turned to earth,  
which makes the caves below resound with mirth  
That they enjoy which thou didst once enjoy,  
reaping their comfort from thy deep annoy.  
Turn thee unto the Sea, and thou shalt see,  
The Nymphs and Sirens crying out against thee.  
That should make promise, yet not promise hold,  
calling thee coward, but thy Thysbe bold.  
Bold▪ to adventure on the gloomy night,  
bold to encounter with Latona's light.  
Bold in her course, swift in her cursive moving,  
bold to escape, and constant in her loving:  
Thus heaven, earth, Sea, concording all in one,  
do sympathize with thy discording moan.  
And wilt thou live for this? O do not live,  
but to requite her love, let earth receive  
This little All of thine: which when they have,  
they may inter two lovers in one grave.  
Adjoining to this fount, a rock there was,  
so steep and craggy, that no man could pass.  
To which wild beasts repaired, making their den  
in th'●ollow caverns which did cover them.  
Which seen by him ●: what do not lovers see?  
with face dejected, thus discoursed he.  
If any Lion or fierce savage Bear,  
lodge in this ragged rock, or coucheth near,  
Let him come out, for here is amorous food,  
⁹ and cooling streams to wash away our blood,  
That this may bear record by every wight,  
two faithful lovers perished on one night.  
But these are but delays which cowards use,  
10 their trembling passions seeking to excuse,  
Cast off vain fear, fear is a vassals weed,  
and place true Resolution in her steed.  
 
She will prescribe the rules, with fruits of wooing,  
for fruitless be those fruits that have no doing.  
We that do hazard our good names for men,  
if they'll not pleasure us: what profit then,  
Of all our toilsome labour we sustain,  
that reap no harvest from such gusts of pain▪  
We patient are to bear, and what we bore,  
we do accept, and wish it ten times more,  
That we might pleasure you: how fond are we?  
The weaker sort bears your infirmity.  
But it's our Nature Nature hath ordained,  
man's strength by woman's weakness is sustained.  
In this same cloudy night, with what desire.  
did all my thoughts, and my intents aspire?  
To that same treasure thou hast promised me,  
promise is debt, it must be kept by thee,  
With what affection have I crossed these plains,  
cheered by wood-nimphs, singing pleasant strain●,  
And dansed Lavalto till I came to thee,  
longing for that which thou didst promise me.  
Sad Philomela scared from her rest,  
sung with a pricking slothorne at her breast,  
And sung of Tereus something, what I know not,  
which if I knew, yet would I never show it.  
12 For Tereus' impious in his profane life,  
to wrong a sister, and so chaste a wife.  
Sustains the torture of his wickedness,  
transformed into a Bird: whose filthiness,  
loves marish places, flies the solid ground,  
good reason why: his conscience was not sound.  
13 For Tireus was a King and for his lust,  
by jove himself, was from his sceptre thrust.  
A sensual Prince to wanton motions stirred,  
changed from a prince, unto a loathsome bird,  
Thus did I pass the silence of the night,  
till I arrived within my lovers sight,  
Which yet I cannot do: oh why should we,  
14 to get a little sport, pawn modesty?  
These shady thickets, and that secret cave.  
those prattling Sea-nymphs, & this marble grave,  
Bear all record what travel I have taken,  
yet like a Turtle of her make forsaken,  
Cannot enjoy my love, ay me, unkind,  
that seems inconstant, to a constant mind.  
Why should our favours so devoted rest,  
to them, whose hardened hearts bred our unrest?  
And make us subject to more inward grief,  
then ere their comforts can afford relief.  
But thou art too too rash: (believe me sweet,)  
in more remiss Appearance do I greet,  
Thy divine beauty; pardon what is said,  
conceive no harm spoke by a harmless maid;  
For if thou should (as sur● I think thou dost,)  
lie hid under some bush, and hearst this noised,  
This shroud inue●●io●, 'gainst thy love and thee,  
thou might as well condemn my speech and me.  
Why should I speak against so hallowed shrine,  
to whom I have bequeathed both me and mine?  
Or why should I detract from that fair sun,  
which (if eclipsed) my glistering rays be done?  
 
 
For this same Tree, bears record of our wrack,  
decolored quite from white, to dismal black,  
And this same ground, all in a gore of blood:  
No chi●ping bird within this fatal wood,  
And this for love of him, that now is gone,  
leaving his forlorn Thysbe all alone.  
Hard was mine hap, to see his doleful end,  
at whose sad hearse the Fates themselves attend:  
Hard was mine hap, more harsh the course of time,  
to crop my love, my daisy in his prime.  
Hard was his hap to extinguish his desire,  
with apparition of a bloody tire:  
Hard was his hap to forage here so late,  
to miss his love, and meet so soon with Fate.  
Turn to thy love, see if thy vital breath,  
can call him from the slumber of pale death.  
See if thou canst revive his gasping soul,  
for lo his eyes within his head do roll.  
Embrace his ivory neck with folded arms,  
distill life in him by thy loving charms.  
Buzz in his ears of love, it will not be,  
his dying senses have no mind of thee.  
Thus round empalld with grief, was Thysbes' mind,  
no hope of life in him can Thysbe find,  
For he grew stiff engored with bloody wound,  
and by h●s blood fast gl●ed to the ground.  
●hysbe espied her Tire which he did hold,  
〈◊〉 in his hand, and did the same enfold,  
As 〈…〉 Antidote to cure  
his gaping woe 〈…〉 make him ere endure:  
Unhappy Tire (quoth she) unhappy were,  
that gave occasion to my love of fear.  
Thou that hast priest my soul in anguish more,  
than all the robes which ere I wore before.  
Thou wandering straggler, sliding from mine head,  
gave the first onset to this ugly deed.  
For if thou hadst not been, my love had lived,  
that now of sense & moving is deprived.  
What hap had I at first to put thee on,  
when dark Latona's lights were drawing on,  
Or what misfortune had I for to leave thee,  
since thy departure doth so greatly grieve me.  
It needs must grieve me: for it cuts my heart,  
as if my soul from body should depart.  
He was my soul, my body cannot breathe,  
When as my soul is seized on by death.  
Why should I have such curious regard  
to Nightern robes, when meaner would have served?  
For well I know it was my loves desire,  
to meet myself and not my curious tire.  
Fie on this nice preciseness women use  
in garish dress: men should women choose,  
Not by their body's habit, but their mind,  
in lists of virtue, and respect confined.  
We that do love as we protest we do,  
must not get husbands with a painted show,  
Like puppets in a play, addresed to play  
strange acts by night, to purchase love by day.  
Best honour that beseems a country maid,  
is to be modest, in her actions stayed.  
 
 
21 He might command, and have what he commanded,  
but death, pale death now sways, & she'll withstand it.  
Then honoured hearse, if hearses honour have,  
yield to my suit, and perfect what I crave.  
Do not deny me: to deny me this,  
were to deprive thee honour me of bliss.  
Nay do not smile, (for I do see thee smile)  
if that our bones thou in thy breast compile,  
And recollect them after Thysbes' death,  
the Nymphs themselves shall set a laurel wreath  
Upon thy back: e'er honoured shalt thou be,  
for this good turn thou did my love and me.  
But if thou scorn my vows, and call them vain,  
yielding no ear to lovers that complain,  
Rest Well assured the Nymphs revenged will be.  
And for our sakes will quite demolish thee.  
When trusty Ajax & Achilles came,  
to Patrocles tomb, with tears they bathed the same  
For every word they spoke of Patrocles,  
drew tears from them, as streams from Caucasus.  
Whose ragged top sends rivers out amain,  
and being sent, renews her springs again.  
So they deplored his death, his sacred hearse,  
rank set with emblems and with doleful verse.  
The swanes of Caister and eke of Poe,  
came to ensable him in songs of woe●  
Since which sad time the Poets have reported,  
that each day twice the swans have there resorted.  
Passing by flocks along the Greequish plain,  
seeking by songs to make him live again.  
But when it would not be, the Swans there swore,  
that from that time they near would warble more:  
But at their 23 death which they perform: for why  
they never sing but hour before they die.  
Why should a Grecian have such honour done,  
that never any Trophies ere had won,  
But slain by Hector: for no fame he had  
of doing greatly good, or greatly bad.  
And yet forsooth he must characters have▪  
in golden letters o'er his worthless grave▪  
In polished marble must his shrine be set  
in sapphires, 24 tophies and in british ieate.  
Thus must he have respect, when we, god wot,  
must lie obscure as if men knew us not.  
And yet our fame deserves more praise than he,  
more grace, more glory, and more memory:  
Time shall raze out that marble hearse of his,  
time shall amend what time hath done amiss.  
For we shall live in spite of Fates decree,  
when low interred this famous Greek shall be.  
Love cannot die, we loved and therefore death  
shall crown our hearse with times immortal wreath,  
And though we die we love and live in dying,  
love to pale death perpetual life applying.  
Why should prince Ilus acts have such respect  
whose tomb with precious emeralds bedecked?  
For well I know such acts did never he,  
In amorous passions of true love as we,  
25 Yet Batias tomb must have inscriptions fair,  
to show what man of birth was buried there.  
 
And yet in death we languish not in loving,  
though 27 death deprive us of all vital 〈◊〉  
For we conceive more joy in toombed together,  
then if we li●'d deprived the one of other▪  
More must I say to seal these obsequies;  
for death is fearful and invents delays,  
And most of all in us: a weaker brood,  
the talk of death yields fear to womanhood,  
And yet, me thinks I stay from him too long,  
and in my stay I do him double wrong.  
First to deprive him life, and then begin  
with tardy p●●e aloof to follow him.  
Well I'll prepare myself, the ●ates decres  
two Lovers 〈◊〉 sustain their cruelty.  
And ye not cr●●●, cruelty is shown  
when either is 〈◊〉 of his own.  
But we by 28 Cupid● m●anes, that purblind boy,  
obtain by 〈…〉 could not erst enjoy,  
Death yields 〈◊〉, comfort then our life time did,  
showing our 〈◊〉 which long before was hid●  
No 〈…〉 secret ●hinks  
need we find 〈◊〉, nor fearful need we shrink.  
For Parent's 〈◊〉 pursuit we rest secure,  
since 〈…〉 hearts, as earth our corp● 〈◊〉  
We need not have our Parents in suspect,  
they 〈◊〉 rest ●●relesse now whe●● we affect▪  
For well I know we can be hardly seen,  
twixt 〈◊〉 and earth, so great a space between.  
Thus 〈…〉 enly motion doth ascend,  
from earth to heaven to gra●ulate her friend,   

Thysbees EPICAEDIUM.  

YEt Thysbe stay thine hand: thine obsequies,  
desire more celebrating exequys;  
Die not intestate, in this desert grove,  
but consecreate in token of thy love  
Thine hests to Vesta. yet let Vesta know,  
This be unwilling is enforced so.  
Then let thy ²⁹ Parents, Parents though unkind  
By Nature's law, some short memorial find,  
Of thy affection: Swans before they die,  
leave pensive odes and warble merrily.  
30 Yet must I needs declaim against your fear,  
jealous of hurt where no hurt could appear:  
For I am sure near was your thriving blessing,  
more dear to me then was my lovers kissing.  
Oh then unkind unkindness did not fit,  
our chaste desires that cou●d not bridle it.  
Love was the hott'st when it did seem concealed,  
and hid in ashes, yet in time revealed.  
Then blame yourselves, not us: you caused our end,  
barring a lover from her long sought friend,  
Which we do pardon if you'll let us have,  
our tomb in one, our ashes in one grave.  
Which it you shall perform our hope extends,  
out disjoined corpse conjoined you make amends.  
Well do I know our funerals renew,  
currents of tears and streams of grief in you.  
And many pageant mixed with liquid tears,  
will make attendance on our desolate bears,  
Many distreaming drops will dim your eye,  
to see two lovers end so suddenly.  
Yet all in vain, being dead, your tears restrain:  
for tears cannot recall us back again.  
The ³¹ Nymphs themselves with Poplar twigs will make  
an osier basket for Idalias' sake,  
Wherein collect you may such fragrant flowers,  
as shall adorn our monumental bowers:  
Yet when you spread your flowers each in degree,  
Strew more on his side then you strew on me.  
He was more constant, he did first begin,  
I like his shadow did but follow him.  
He came unto the place, and spite of death  
seeing my tire engored did lose his breath.  
I like an Ape, to imitate my love,  
follows his worth, his presence to approve.  
A glorious presence where the gods accord  
all wealth, all joy, Elysium can afford.  
Fruitful Elysis where each constant mate,  
reigns in fruition of his happy state,  
Where Hero smiles to grapple with her dear,  
jealous of nothing, for no cause of fear  
Can cross loves action? there's no Hellespont,  
But the sweet relish of a Nectar fount  
hight the Castalian fount which Gods adore,  
where having drunk they're never thirsty more.  
By this renowned brook, shall he and I,  
prattle of love, and parents cruelty.  
 
Hang not the willow token of disdain  
upon our Tomb: for that each country swain  
Can set upon his shrine: let Venus tree,  
the lovely myrtle show our constancy.  
If you want any rites or solemn hests,  
which may be seem our graves: the birds protests  
Each in their order to solemnize them,  
and gods themselves for to eternize them:  
Each mourning Turtle having lost her make,  
will mourning make resort for Venus' sake.  
And sweet Leucothoe will represent  
of Vmolus' odours a delicious sent.  
The Nighterne owl, that night will cease from prey  
howling by night, as she did howl by day.  
The little Bat (though fearful heretofore)  
will flock amongst the rest and fear no more.  
Thus every Bird, for it is God's desire,  
will with their presence deck our funeral fire.  
To purge our guilt dame Venus promised me,  
she'll go to heaven with low and bended knee.  
And well I know jove, Venus loves so well,  
he will believe what tale so ere she tell.  
Then for her love let Venus' altars smoke,  
and in each corner of her Temple look;  
No ornament which best may her be-fit,  
Be there a wanting but to perfect it.  
You know our City much relies on her:  
for by her succour no distress can stir  
The prosperous sails of our prosperity,  
but like a stern she's ever fixed nigh,  
To rid her from those rocks unto the shore,  
in lieu whereof we do her shrine adore.  
Yet ere I die I must take leave of you,  
you sacred mansions which my woes renew:  
Thou olive-tree that planted was so nigh  
unto my father's house where I came by  
This last unhappy night: thou render vine,  
whose supple slips these fingers oft did twine.  
Thou ³³ rosy border set with roses fair.  
to which each morn I used to repair,  
And rob thee of thy store to beautify  
my hapless tire with crimson purity,  
Farewell at once farewell, long may the dew  
of silver haired Aurora water you,  
Long may you flourish, this I only crave,  
that with your flowers each morn you deck my grave.  
Such sweets, such fragrant roses represent,  
that your repose may make it redolent.  
Send out your spicy odours and attend,  
with Hyble fruits upon my bleeding friend;  
For many time and oft hath he and I,  
chased one another full lasciviously:  
And if he chanced to be too slow in running,  
I would hold ³⁴ back and linger for his coming.  
But of all monuments I bid a dew,  
broad shadowing beech-trees to the sight of you:  
You many times have yielded sweet repose  
unto our love and seasoned have our woes,  
By your contented shades blest be you ever,  
and like Elisian-shades fade may you never.  
O many times have we two sported there,  
(for we alone were privileged there)  
And twisting nosegays we our flowers would hide, them,  
lest by some Satire we should be espied;  
Oft would we crop sweet flowers and having cut  
within our wicker baskets we would put them:  
And when we more had gathered than we needed,  
we gathered still for so our love exceeded,  
That every flower we cropped we did apply  
unto the flower of our virginity.   

" For if such flowers such sweetness did bestow,  
flowers are much sweeter that do spring below.   

Farewell thou spacious plain amongst the rest,  
I have no cause but to respect thee best:  
For many time and oft have we two played  
at Barleybreak, but now that sports decayed,  
Full many secret corners dost thou yield,  
for lovers sports within thy lovely field.   

And thou unhappy Pine that mounts so high,  
as if thou meant by height to touch the sky;  
Thou may'st repine at fates that murdered me,  
since Thysbees' hand each morn did cherish thee,  
Oft have I planted grafts within thy stem,  
which now are grown so high they shadow men  
And with a ³⁵ Water pot which I did bring  
each morn by time; I made thine arms to spring:  
But now, poor Pine, pine mayst thou now and die,  
for none that I know cherish thee but I:  
Now shall thy shadowing branches fall away,  
their falling leaves to winter's fury pay.  
And none remains there now to pity thee,  
When I am dead that living nourished thee;  
But be content; shed tears in love of me,  
and when thou hearest my death dejected be:  
Cast down some withered leaves & send them hither,  
portending thus much, we must die together;  
This if thou dost I will thee thankful call,  
and will with Laurel thy sad head empall:  
That though thou die, yet that thou diest with me,  
in aftertimes still honoured thou mayst be.  
And thou strait chink to which full many time  
we made repair: through thee our love did shine,  
And spearst her beams; farewell, for never more,  
shall we resort to thee as heretofore;  
Thou wast the author of our first undoing,  
for by thy means thou gavest us means of wooing,  
Giving eyes liberty, which eyes so wounded  
that by their passions passions new rebounded,  
Yet we do thank thee for thy forepast love,  
for by our deaths the gods themselves approve  
Our constant minds, recorded which must be  
in heavens conventions to our memory.  
O happy thou whilst our two fragrant breaths  
made thee so rich, impoverished by our deaths:  
For this I think, this is my prophesy,  
near shall such lips bestow their breath on thee,  
When thou shalt hear of our discording end,  
some softened tears upon our funerals spend:  
Let thine hard marble be dissolv' to streams  
of liquid water, since those radiant beams  
Which our reflecting eyes the marble gave  
might pierce him more, than ever Lyrics have  
The savage beasts, whose natures were made tame,  
at the rehearsal of sweet Amphion's name:  
What then should Beauty? whose attractive power  
commands stones, serpent's & sweet budding flower:  
What should the Splendour of fair Beauties eye  
act, since such acts were done by harmony?  
Open your flinty bosom, let remorse  
shed rivulets of tears upon my coarse:  
Or if you will not so, at least restrain  
your airy chink, and shut it up again:  
Let not such Monuments live when we die,  
for they'●e augment our Parent's jealousy:  
That as we loved, kissed toyed when we're living,  
so we may love, kiss, toy at life's depriving.  
Then shut that cranny up left after time,  
impute the fault unto that chink of thine.  
This last record by Thysbe thus recorded  
bred floods of tears: for tears their sighs afforded,  
the Balmtrees wept, their tears concrete in one  
distilled into th'substance of a stone:  
Which stone it seems, did after cover them,  
for after times found it laid over them.  
With many fair inscription which did show  
of love recorded never none more true,  
Then this of Thysbe and her loving mate,  
supposing mutual death a blessed state,  
A state more blest in that they had their wish,  
Thysbe had hers and Pyramus had his;  
They were deprived of loving in their living,  
but by their deaths the gods themselves were giving  
Tokens of love▪ for they enjoyed their love,  
which no transparent jealous eye could move.  
Empassed by divine power, heavens majesty,  
to honour them, that honoured constancy;  
And which was more: dame Venus (as we read)  
yoking her Doves, came to high jove with speed,  
Her milk-white doves with airy coloured wings,  
unto Ioues throne their beawteous lady brings;  
Where she with smiling countenance, for her smile,  
all foggy mists Olympus did exile,  
Thus spoke to jove, who seeing her did grace her,  
and with enfolded arms'gan to embrace her.   

Heaven-habiting jove, that in compassion sees,  
lover, inflamed passions: on my knees,  
Do I entreat as I am Queen of love  
for shipwrecked lovers: that thou wilt remove  
Their earthly members to participate  
the glorious sunshine of one heavenly s●ate,  
For they were constant, constancy thou loves  
and in thyself their passions thou approves:  
Deign to eternize them with sacred Baise,  
It's fit such mirrors should have endless days.  
That consecreate their v●wes to gods divine,  
then so propitious to these prayers of mine,  
They were ennobled with a constant mind,  
Such sacred lights it's hard on earth to find:  
They were adorned with Vesta's purity:  
Vesta's pure shape deserves eternity.  
They lived in loving, and in loving did'e,  
nor did two Urns their joined love divide:  
But both interred together, they have won  
a fame recorded in all times to come.  
She was as fair as fairness could be laid  
on mortal colours, though a country maid,  
Yet for her thoughts as pure, as was her face,  
she well deserves to have an heavenly place.  
Do not frown (dear Sire) me thinks that frown,  
do ill beseem, to such as be your own.  
I am your daughter, and I know you love me▪  
and I presume my prayers needs must move you,  
Or else I should despair e'er to resort  
from Ida's mount unto your heavenly court.  
Then yield assent unto your daughter's suit,  
if you deny it me, I will be mute,  
And never make recourse unto your shrine,  
which cannot choose but gall this heart of mine.  
This earthly goddess will full well beseem,  
in juno's absence to supply as Queen.  
jove smiled at this, for he desired change,  
and therefore oft from heaven to earth would range  
For pleasure and delight: variety  
willing unwilling, wrested this reply.  
You speak of wonders (daughter) quoth high 37 jove,  
of mortal wights so constant in their love.  
These two in constant loving you surpass,  
For they're more constant then ere Venus was.  
Death cannot part asunder their desires,  
which like bright flames unto our throne aspires,  
They're worthy (daughter) of a glorious crown,  
and they shall have it: for we'll use our own.  
But to enjoy that joy, that amorous die  
of beauties sweet complexion: how should I  
Disjoin these two, both would I gladly grace,  
if I could distance them in several place.  
That fair formed creature thou dost so much praise,  
I do remember in her former days:  
For she entirely wished she might have time  
to use her love, and offered to my shrine  
Great store of incense; incense it was sweet,  
that I would give them time and place to meet.  
Which I did promise: but I did not pay:  
for seeing her more beauteous than the day,  
Fair as Orgon, purer than that white  
lovely ³⁸ Alcmene wore upon the night  
When she supposed Amphitryo her dear love  
possessed the place which was supplied by jove.  
Being thus fair, (for Thysbe was more fair)  
I much amazed stood, oppressed with care,  
Seeming asleep▪ yet sleeping I did moan▪  
my too large promise which was past and gone▪  
Oft did I wish I had been Pyramus,  
oft I resolved (the night so tedious)  
For to transshape myself, and to descend,  
and meet with Thysbe as her pointed friend.  
But juno jealous Queen, with open eye  
slept not all night, but f●aught with jealousy.  
Asked me full oft what ailed me: turn (quoth she)  
and with my nectar lips i'll comfort thee.  
Are you in love? I blushed; that blush displays,  
you are inclined (quoth she) some otherways:  
You have some tricksy Girl, that doth keep  
your heart enchained, your powerful eyes from sleep.  
Fie fie (quoth she) as you are jove, affect  
her that affords to you the most respect:  
I am celestial 39 wife and sister both  
unto yourself: and juno would be loath  
To violate the glory of her spouse  
with every swain, in every brothel house:  
And can you then without regard of me,  
or of yourself, disgrace your deity  
With every Leda, every milkmaid, toy,  
while juno is deprived of her joy?  
Now by my God head mortal men adore,  
I'ave borne so much that I can bear no more.  
Either content you with your choice, your Queen,  
or i'll tell that which would full ill beseem  
The glory of your state: the Gods shall hear,  
what heretofore to tell I did forbear.  
Then as you tender th' honour of your name,  
Be chary henceforth how you soil the same.  
This said dame juno, but I curbed her speech  
with brows contracted, till she did beseech  
With trickling tears, that I would pardon give,  
protesting she would never after grieve  
My royal person; wishing my delight,  
if it pleased me even in my junos' sight  
Wherewith I seemed appeased, and feigning 40 sleep,  
with eyelids shut, my heart a watch did keep;  
Ever conceiving something what I know not,  
which if I knew▪ its shame for Gods to show it,  
Being lascivious passions▪ which were bred  
of the distempered humours of my head.  
But to be brief, I did by means contrive  
their long sought loves fruition to deprive,  
Which thus accomplished, I am glad of this,  
Venus entreats what jove himself did wish.  
This I will do, (which done) may seem a wonder,  
equal their joys, yet distance them asunder.  
He from his Thysbe, Thysbe from her love,  
jove for his Thysbe, Thysbe for her jove.  
This said: bright Venus happy to receive  
The full accomplished suit which she did crave,  
Takes leave of jove, and taking leave he 4● kissed her,  
amidst his kisses with his prayers he blessed her.  
Venus to ⁴² Ida hies Idas she sends  
Ambassador to Thysbe, who attends,  
The God's decree; where having come at last,  
tells to Thysbe all discourse was passed  
Twixt jove & Venus, yet ●ot all she told,  
for Venus bade him Ioues intendments hold,  
Lest his narration should more sorrow breed,  
than any comfort drawn from human seed:  
For well I know no jove so precious  
to her, as was her lovely Pyramus.  
When Idas had expressed what jove decreed,  
he took his leave of Thysbe, and with speed  
Returned to Venus, Venus' Queen of love,  
whom he with Mars found lying in a grove  
Of levy Poplars, sporting midst their pleasure.  
Vulcan was absent, they had time and leisure.  
Where we will leave them, and swift Ida's train,  
and to our lovesick Thysbe turn again.  
Thysbe addressed to die, yet long in dying,  
Draws courage to her, & that blade espying.  
Which was be crimsoned with the bloody gore,  
of that same murder it had done before;  
Takes it into her hand, ●her hand God wot  
as soft as down, such weapons handled not  
Before this time, (and this time was too soon  
to vanquish beauty, and to cut it down.  
43 Poor wench she knew not how to use the blade,  
for other armour Nature had her made.  
But like an untraind Soldier wanting skill,  
knows not to fight, yet useth his good will,  
Traverse his ground as other soldiers do,  
yet hath no method, for he knows not how:  
Even so this heavenly creature handled it,  
long time uncertain how to manage it.  
At last by reason, 44 reason did acquaint,  
which was the pummel, which the satal point,  
Grasping the blade which she before did take,  
to th'shade which shadowed Pyramus she spoke.  
Thou shadowing tree, that 45 shadows this dark tomb,  
shelter us two, that passengers which come,  
Unto this forest, may thy pity praise,  
and memorise thy love in after days.  
Thou seest we are deprived of friend or make,  
which may deplore with tears our forlorn state.  
Supply our want with thy remorseful shade,  
since (as it seems) for pity thou was made,  
Cover us two (two lovers) that would be  
gladly ore-cannoped with th'leaves of thee.  
Thou 46 coverst him already: happy time,  
that twists about him with those sprays of thine.  
If Nature had accorded to our vows,  
these arms had cleped that neck, those flowery bows,  
Do now enfold: but heavens have so decreed,  
to have two lovers clad in sable weed.  
Which I accord unto, heavens purge my sin,  
he's gone before, and I must follow him.  
Which said, she fixed the sword unto her Breast,  
with more than woman's spirit which expressed,  
Her love unto her Saint, who lay along,  
congealed in blood, whose trunk she fell upon.  
The tree sent out her Branches, which did cover,  
their corpse with vernant blossoms, shadowed over.  
Aurora breathed upon them, whose sweet breath,  
perfumed their bodies, seized upon by death.    

Sylvan. Epicaedium.  
THis done in silent passage of the Night,  
when stars shone fair & bright in Thetis sight,  
The rural Wood-nymphs did their Odes display,  
sabled with woes: which woes to take away,  
They sung these verses, verses ominous,  
o'er Thisbe's hearse, and lovely Pyramus.  
Long may your fame 48 and glory here remain,  
honoured by us, and by each country Swain.  
Long may you live renowned, for your love  
hath made perpetual eccoes in this grove.  
A thrice blessed grove, blessed grave▪ for such blessed Saints,  
That in this flowery pale here pitch their tents,  
Wherein loves war eternised for aye,  
lost that by night, which was restored by day,  
Smell sweet for ever, sweetest of all sweets:  
you springing blossoms which the spring-time greets.  
Send out your fragrant savour and relieve,  
our troubled springs which be adddressed to grieve.  
Let not your vernant bosom so retain,  
all comfort from the oat-pipe of a Swain,  
That no release of sorrow or distress,  
makes diminution of his wretchedness.  
What should we sing? no hymn of melody:  
shall ere possess our desert empery.  
No tune of joy, no pleasant strain of mirth,  
shall yield contentment to Nereus' birth.  
For far more fair, more beauteous, Thysbe was  
then any wood-Nimph, my Country Lass.  
49 Campaspe she was fair, and was beloved,  
of potent Monarches: her proportion moved,  
Doting Apelles, loves effects to show,  
to that same picture which his Pencile drawn.  
Yet if Campas●e were enshrined here,  
no cause of love would in her frame appear.  
More divine feature was in Thysbes' face,  
a more delightful smile more comely grace,  
Then ere Apelles, though in skill most rare,  
could make his picture any way compare.  
Bring myrtle branches let us cover them,  
shrouding their corpse with wreaths laid over them;  
And every time and tide, let's shed a tear,  
over the sad memorial of their Bear.  
Well do these odes of sorrow us beseem,  
and better would they please Arcadia's Queen,  
Then if with feasts and triumphs we should spend,  
our dismal hours, about a lovers end.  
We are not for Diana's cheerful game,  
though we (foretime) have well approved the same.  
No quiver, nor no bow, will we receive,  
till we have spent our dirges on their grave,  
Whose glorious loves, so well conjoined in one,  
makes their two tears distill into one stone.  
For every drop of blood which doth descend,  
from Thisbe's wound, flies to her loving friend:  
And those same streams which issued out amain,  
from Pyramus make their recourse again.  
And join with Thysbe, whose respective wound,  
licks up the blood was shed upon the ground.  
Eternal Trophies hung upon your hearse,  
made everlasting, by our pensive verse;  
And let this marble which doth cover you,  
her tears (each morn) with moistened drops renew,  
Which in remorse, compassionate may spend,  
some dewy drops to witness your sad end.  
You pretty gliding streams which run apace,  
leave off your course, and flow unto this place,  
That you may moisten this sad monument,  
this desert hearse with watery element.  
And gratify our love, that love you dear,  
and wish entirely your sweet presence here.  
Leave off to wash those clives and ruggy caves,  
and now repair to monumental graves,  
To rinse all foul infection which did stain,  
the corpse deceased by your still streaming vain.  
Why do you stay? why seem you so hard hearted,  
to shed no tears, at constant love departed?  
If that our Queen should hear, as she shall hear,  
this your remorseless heart▪ would cost you dear.  
Do you not see how we in sable weeede,  
to weep amain, have here repaired with speed?  
And in distress enclosed, full fraught with woe,  
may ask of you what's cause you do not so?  
See how each sprig ⁵⁰ sends out a pearled drop,  
and when the pruner seems their height to crop,  
They seem to thank him for it▪ wishing death,  
to deck these lovers with a flowery wreath.  
See how each bird resorts unto their shrine,  
as if it were unto some power divine:  
And dedicates unto their mournful tomb  
lays, which shall serve in after times to come.  
They warble out their doleful funerals,  
having forgot their forepast festivals.  
Their sad 51 aspects such sorrow doth afford,  
that we ourselves their sorrows may record  
Time yields no tune, nor tune obseru's no time,  
time, tune, nor measure keep we o'er this shrine,  
We cannot descant, descant there is none,  
to such as know no descant but to moon.  
Like spouse-lost Turtles, do we flock together,  
and on each morn by time, consort we hither  
To celebrate their deaths with memory,  
whose constant loves make them charactered be.  
Nor will we cease, or make an ●nd of grief,  
till that their parents yield them some relief,  
To consummate their wishes, and supply  
their former hardness by their clemency:  
For in no time did ever children find,  
parents more wilful, to their loves unkind.  
Yet for that Fate hath done her worst of ill,  
in that she did the blood of lovers spill.  
And tyrannized in showing of her force.  
raging 'gainst love, deprived of remorse:  
Let Parents cease to hate, and make amends,  
by solemn hests for their untimely ends.  
It is not fit that ⁵² death and enmity  
should wage their battle ever mutually.  
For none I know, but when their foe is dead  
they scorn base envy in their breasts to feed.  
But let us to our work, and build us bowers,  
composed of fragrant blossoms, and of flowers,  
Hard by this tomb, this hearse, this desert grave,  
where we may give what constant love doth crave,  
An ode displaying passion: and relate,  
the sad event of loves unhappy state.  
Each nymph address her to her doleful voice,  
that we may charm the furies with our noise;  
And draw their hapless parents from their cell,  
to hear the sad Narration we shall tell▪  
So shall our first morn's moan performed be,  
in honour of these lovers constancy.   

Siluanor: Threnodia.  

IF any rural God, or poor swain,  
consecreate Leucothoes' rod, to this plain:  
This hearse, decked with sable verse,  
Shall commend  
Him as our friend,  
Our springs, or groves, our strain.   

Let your Temples sweet, mixed be,  
With perfumes, let their feet embalmed be,  
Then will we, mutually  
Still express,  
And confess,  
You deserve eternity.   

Venus with mirtlewand, Cupid bow,  
Pelops with his ivory hand will bestow;  
All in one to this stone  
To declare  
Love is rare,  
Love that hath no painted show.   

jove admires Thysbes' face full of favour,  
Myrrha likes the striplings grace and behaviour,  
Venus' lip, jos skip,  
Were both rare,  
Yet both are,  
In one Thysbe, jove would have her.   

From Olympus jove espies Thysbes' beauty,  
Which no sooner he descries, then in duty,  
Cupid's dart wounds his heart,  
He by force,  
Sues divorce,  
juno cannot please his fancy.   

Thus did Thysbe live and die, live by dying  
Death confirms her deity, in applying  
To her shrine, power divine,  
Which doth show,  
And renew:  
Life anew, renewed by dying.   

This ode thus tuned in more doleful sort,  
Then any Mus● of mine can make report:  
Such errors made resound both far and near,  
that these sad strains came to their parent's ear.  
They much perplexed to hear such woeful news.  
which floods of tears in their moist eyes renews;  
With speed they could, (which speed but easy was,)  
they made recourse unto that forlorn place.  
Tears trickled down, as drops from Aetes' hill.  
which with their streams each hollow ⁵³ cave did fill  
For woes exceeded more in that their Tomb,  
had bard them hope of future joys to come,  
For they were old, old folks desire to see,  
a good success unto their progeny.  
But now no hope, mishap had crossed their hope,  
e'er to attain at their desired scope.  
Oh what ⁵⁴ salt seas for seas they seemed to be,  
no drops but floods, which run incessantly  
From their dim eyes for tears had made them dim,  
which, near the less, they took much pleasure in.  
Oft would the Mother clip her Thysbe round,  
which lay all senseless on the bloody ground.  
And with a kiss (as old wives use to do,)  
her entire love, her withered lips did show.  
Turn to thy Mother (quoth he) or receive,  
thy doleful Mother in thy hapless grave;  
Acknowledge her that first, aye me too soon,  
brought thee to light, which is eclypsed & done;  
I nourished thee, and with a kind embrace,  
made me an Idol of that beauteous face;  
For I conceived, deceived I could not be,  
No birth more perfect, than the birth of thee.  
Thus did the doting ⁵⁵ trot deplore her fall,  
with dropping nose, faint breath, more than them all  
That did attend her passion: for the rest  
did more repress those passions she expressed,  
Nor is it proper, well I know, that man  
should shed his tears with ease as women can;  
For they more prompt to comfort, yield relief,  
to such as are oppressed with heaps of grief,  
And can conceal their sorrow, as is fit,  
knowing the means and way to bridle it.  
They thus remaining o'er their children's grave,  
the hateful ground, which did their corpse receive,  
They did consult how they might expiate  
that wrong of theirs, which they had done so late.  
Which whilst they did advise, they strait did see,  
their children's vows, graven in an Olive tree.  
Which were to this effect." Surcease to mourn,  
" and place our several ashes in one Urn.  
For whilst we lived, we loved, then since we die,  
let one poor urn preserve our memory.  
And let this day recorded be by you,  
and festive kept: eternize lovers true.  
Give upper hand to him, for he was first:  
respect with care, our bones be not dispersed  
Amongst unhallowed relics which will stain  
the glorious Trophies which our love did gain,  
Be not unkind unto your children's love,  
but what they like, let your consent approve,  
For if your minds disposed so had been,  
this 〈…〉 glass of woe you near had seen.  
But we forgive, forget, so you perform,  
what we have wished: we feast, cease you to mourn.  
These hests, these rites thus read; without delay,  
they sought their forepast guilt to take away,  
And rinse their former ill by present good,  
yielding to love which they before withstood:  
For admiration ● apt them, and they saw,  
no curb could hold the reins of Venus' law:  
For she enjoined them love, which they obeyed,  
which by no Parents wishes could be staid.  
Each in their order did their obsequies,  
with solemn rites as their last exequys,  
Making a sire of juniper composed,  
in which their lovely corpse seemed well disposed,  
Which were consumed to ashes and conserved,  
in one small ⁵⁶ pot, as well their fame deserved.  
This urn, poor urn, which kept their ashes sure,  
was made of Brass, that it might ere endure,  
And as a relic, relics than were used,  
in ⁵⁸ Nimrods' Temple in a chest enclosed.  
There was it put, to which as some report,  
all constant lovers used to make resort.  
No marriage rite was to be consummate,  
Before they did this relic invocate,  
That it would be propitious to their love,  
in sign whereof each gave a Turtle-dove,  
To explicate their truth, their constancy,  
which they observed for ever solemnly.  
Thus were these two with honour w●ll rewarded,  
their ashes, as times Monuments regarded,  
Kept and reserved for Fame, Fame graced the earth,  
in suffering Nature bring so fair a birth  
Into the world, which world unworthy was,  
to have two mirrors and to let them pass.  
But time, unthankful time, too soon forgot  
the Gem she had, as if she had it not.  
Soiled in the lustre, lustre it had none,  
deprived of Fame, when her renown was gone,  
For Parents breathless were, and with their birth,  
by times succession were interred in earth.  
In self-same earth for they desired to have,  
their children's ⁵⁹ hearse their urn, their comely grave  
Which having got, men never did adore,  
their sacred hearse as they had done before.  
For less were they esteemed, so from that time,  
near any lover came unto their shrine.  
Yet to this day, their pictures do remain,  
in Marble wrought, describing every vain.  
Each ruby blush, mixed with a crimson die,  
with Thysbes' smile decoloured wanton.  
With face defaced by times injurious frown,  
hath shown more beauty than my Muse hath shown,    

The answer of Hippolytus unto Phaedra.  
The Argument.  
Hippolytus son to Theseus, by the Amazon Hippolyta, solicited by his step mother Phedra to sensuality, seeks by all means to repress her inordinate lust by exemplifying the worth, resolution, and magnanimity of his father & her husband Theseus: as also aggravating the foulness of the fact she intended producing reasons to dissuade her from prosecuting her purpose any further: as more particularly the scandal of the world, which of necessity would ensue upon committing of a fact so detestable to the supreme dentie so exorbitant to the law of nature. Next he propoundeth the inevitable revenge of the Gods above, who could not suffer such impieties to pass which impunity: but would chastise incestuous actions with the exquisitest punishments they reserve for any delinquent: concluding his Epistle more emphatically; assuring her if she would not desist from her lascivious intendments, Theseus should be acquainted with her entirest thoughts, who in no wise could brook her insatiable desires, but ere long would expiate the guilt of her sin with the sacrifice of her blood.  
The Epistle of Hippolytus unto Phaedra.  

If modest lines send out a modest smile,  
and those immodest vows you dedicate  
Unto my youth; youths frail●y to beguile,  
my virtuous blossoms to extenuate,  
What should I write? or in what tempered style  
should I describe the ruin of my star●?  
Since virtue is my centre, truth the scope,  
At which I aim the level of my hope?   

I will not call you wanton, but you seem  
too too respectless of your glorious fame,  
That once in Crect for beauty deemed a Queen,  
should now grow careless to eclipse the same.  
O better fruits should in that grove be seen,  
then to neglect the glory of your name.  
Minos' esteemed was more pure, more just,  
then to expose his house to shameful lust.   

Turn to your spouse my father, and observe  
his worth, his me●its, and disclaim your vow,  
See what respect your Theseus doth deserve,  
who consecrates his love & life to you:  
Then I am sure you will be joth to swerver  
from your allegiance, which is Theseus dew.  
He thinks him blest in you, O do not then  
impair the blessing of such blessed men.   

But if you will distain my father's bed,  
make it a brothel prostitute to sin,  
Rest well assured I'll never hear it said,  
that I his son that lewdness did begin,  
To poyn● the prime rose, or to see it fade  
within his bed where I have nourished been,  
For ill it would be seem both him and me,  
that his grey head should wear my livery.   

Let not the glory of your ancient house  
attainted be, or dazed by your stain:  
For after ages would speak worse of us,  
and this our shame would evermore remain:  
Which could not choose but grow pernicious  
to the renown your Theseus did attain.  
That he who many monsters vanquished,  
should let a monster live within his bed.   

Employ those thoughts so wanton inclined  
to th' comfort of your spouse, let him receive  
Th' elixir of your love anew refin'd  
your loves the harvest which your Lord doth crave:  
Then keep not from him that which is assigned,  
by powers supernal for his worth to have:  
Adore no shrine but his, let mine alone,  
I am his image, he and I are one,   

How ill would it be seem distasteful youth,  
to wrong the winter of his reverend age:  
Whom (if not graceless) would it not move to'ruth●  
to s●●le his bed, Whose nie-spent Pilgrimage  
Craves pity by prescription, graced bs truth,  
and virtues colours, making fam▪ his page,  
To follow every action with her breath,  
to give him life when seized upon by death.   

Look at the trophies Cressa doth possess,  
times monumental characters of worth,  
And you shall see his spoils deserve no less,  
than adoration deified on earth.  
Since every act proclaims his mightiness,  
as if descended from Ioues divine breath.  
His wars, his conquest, each express his merit,  
endued with more than Adamantine spirit.   

Leave of inviting your Hippolytus  
to festive banquets, of incestuous meeting,  
Well loves he Phaedra, better Theseus,  
then to wrong age with such licentious greeting▪  
To make his own to be most treacherous,  
the sourest taste from him that seemed his sweeting,  
In working shame against him who first sustained  
far more for me then in me is contained.   

Much do I wonder how you should conceive,  
such a suspicious thought of my neglect,  
Unto my father's age? or how you have,  
grounded ●he reasons of your fowl suspect?  
That I his child, my childhood should deprave,  
affecting that which love cannot effect,  
Which loathed pleasures, loathed they are (God wot,  
to use those sports which Nature fancieth not.   

These ⁶⁰ pastimes which I follow yield content  
without repentance: here's no Parents shame,  
No world's Rumour: dangers imminent,  
have no repose 'mongst those: admired fame  
Follows the Court, and places eminent,  
each seeking how they might dilate their name.  
But I respectless of Fame's admiration,  
reap the content of harmless recreation.   

here steepy cliffs, and heaven-aspiring Hills,  
Yield a sweet air to relish my delight,  
There pleasant springs, from whence sweet streams distils  
to quench my thirst: and when the gloomy night.  
Shuts up the rays of Phoebus, rest we still  
till rosy cheeked Aurora show her light.  
Then we address us to our sports again,  
For where we take delight there is no pain,   

Then pardon me, (if p●rdon I may ask)  
that knows no other pleasure than is here,  
That never took upon me any task,  
but the pursuing of the harmless Deer,  
I need not shame, my blush requires no mask,  
I have no objects of affection near,  
But the true splendour of a Native face,  
not mixed with colours to augment her grace.   

If Ariadne desolate, forlorn,  
should hear of your intendments: what would she  
Reply, but jest, that he who had forsworn  
those solemn vows which should observed be,  
Hath well deserved to wear his wantoness horn,  
that dedicates herself to luxury.  
O fie for shame, let shame repress that sin,  
which not repressed will shame both you and him.   

How glad would Ariadne hear of this,  
who rests dejected, robbed of that same Gem,  
Which you respect not: she conceived a bliss  
in his sweet smile, whose sweetness did regain  
Her much prisd love, her spells explained no less;  
In the subduing him, who more had slain,  
Then any monster, that in Cr●te was bred;  
yet by her Art was soon discomfited.   

But she! unhappy she, as Bacchus would,  
deprived of him, for whom such panels she took,  
In Chios left, near after to behold  
her darling Theseus, who (you know) forsook  
Her much distressed distresses did enfold  
the very mansion pitched on ⁶² high to look,  
At that unhappy place where Theseus left her,  
whose absent steps all comfort had bereft her.   

Then you that are preferred before her love,  
set not at sale the treasure you possess,  
Let Ariadne's exile something move  
that fickle mind of yours, whose wantonness,  
Seems more transparent in that you approve  
more of my love, then of his excellence▪  
Whose beauteous outside's fair, but you may find,  
a far more beauteous inside of his mind.   

Constant he is, witness Peritheus,  
whose two combined hearts so well united,  
Have eternised the love of Theseus:  
Mirror of men, that men should be exiled,  
To pass such shelves of perils dangerous,  
With sight of poor Proserpina delighted:  
Whom to exempt with Pluto, they remain,  
the one imprisoned close, the other slain.   

Yet could not Pluto bar his eyes from tears,  
which he poured out each morn upon the hearse,  
Of his dear friend, love after death appears,  
which like an Echo earth's abyss did pierce,  
Oppressed with woe, surmises of vain fears.  
Maugre the fury, of those Furies fierce,  
And Fiends below, which could not him surprise  
with dastard fear: 63 Brave Spirits fear despise.   

O do not then expose his virtuous age,  
to such dishonour, add no discontent  
Unto his outworn strength, lest you enrage  
his patient spirit above his element.  
Do not corrupt your honour nor engage,  
the glory of your birth so eminent.  
Scandals are so●ne engendered sooner bred,  
than aftertimes can make extinguished.   

Do not degrade your Theseus from his throne,  
Which he enjoys, conceiving more delight,  
In that he hath this little of his own,  
reaping contented harbour on the night,  
Then th'husband man to reap what he hath sown,  
or the poor Turtle, in her Turtles sight.  
Believe me Qu●eue, more doth your presence please  
Your Theseus heart, than any one of these.   

If you would have Hippolytus to love.  
love aged Theseus for Hippolytus sake;  
For by those heavenly powers that reign above.  
more comfort shall Hippolytus partake  
By that affection, than Idalias' grove,  
ere reaped in Venus when he did awake,  
And roused from silent flumber to return,  
unto her Birds which for their Queen did mourn.   

Alas, fair queen, why should you thus assault,  
the unprovided fortress of mine heart;  
Or why should you your colours thus exalt,  
displaying ruin to my chiefest part,  
And under ground as in some secret vault  
laying your shot, intending to subvert,  
The Bulwark which supports my slender being,  
to raze my Fort and put my friends to fleeing.   

The fort which I possess is my pure heart,  
my friends the virtues which do keep my fort,  
The first in all my dolours bears a part,  
the second in distress do make resort,  
To arm my soul against invasions dart  
upon their foe, their fury to retort.  
Were 't not a pity then to see that fall,  
which doth sustain myself my means and all?   

But sure you see in me some show of pleasure,  
and gladly would have me express my thought,  
Objecting to my senses time and leisure,  
seldom are such delights so lightly bought,  
High is the price of such a precious treasure.  
and well deserves it to be thoroughly sought:  
But I reply that pleasure lasts not long  
that 'tis usurped by force, and ta'en by wrong:   

I love no bitter sweets immixd with gall,  
whose sharp repentance drowns the pleasure past,  
A pure unspotted soul, whose ⁶⁴ Brasenwall  
can hold out battery and will ever last  
That fear no ruin, no declining fall,  
soiled with no blemish of her minds distaste,  
But fraught with wealth, thrice happy in her wealth  
feeding on free delights, not got by stealth.   

What is that pleasure, where attendeth fear,  
As faith-infringers do: who violate  
The faith they owe: whereby it doth appear  
they rest respect less of their future state,  
Preferring lust before their Spousals dear,  
their shame with shameless Acts to aggravate:  
O none God wot: no pleasure can be there,  
where there is nought but actions of despair.   

O let those hests inviolable stand,  
which heavens above confirm, and let them be  
As Charactres, writ by dame Nature's hand  
to elevate our senses purity:  
Proceeding from the immortal powers command,  
to consummate our lives integrity.  
That love's well squared by an equal line.  
whose groundwork is grounded on the laws divine   

But if these motives cannot caution you,  
not to adulterise your Nuptial bed,  
Be you assured to Theseus I will show  
those indigested humours which are bred,  
By your unsettled thoughts which do renew  
an heap of passions in your troubled head.  
All which concording make that discord true.  
No faith more faithless than the Faith of you.   

Your brittle sex, so brittle is your mould,  
you cannot long be free from alteration:  
Grounds her foundation on no certain hold,  
but tossed with sundry gusts of times mutation,  
Exposed to shame and to confusion sold,  
infringing love to purchase recreation,  
Which we by nature do account a shame,  
to set them light that have esteemed them.   

virtues surprise, chastity's depriver,  
sour of discord, refuge to the worst,  
Forge of ambition enmities contriver:  
an hateful monster, viper's birth accursed,  
Friendships' dissoluer, simple soul's deceiver,  
which from perdition had her birthright first.  
The soil and sale of honour soon shown,  
where men affect all pleasure save their own.   

And what be those but vain, unsavoury joys.  
whose fruits vnseas'ned yield but small delight,  
When comforts are converted to annoys,  
the beauty of our day obscured by night,  
And that we judged for serious seem as toys,  
which have eclipsed the glory of their light:  
And then revolving what we did admire  
let fall our hopes, to greater things aspire.   

O be ashamed to blemish that fair Root,  
which had derivall from the powers above,  
Stain not your bed with your polluted foot,  
love him alone whom you are bound to love,  
Give no occasion to your Spouse to doubt  
of your licentious passion, but remove,  
Both guilt and guilts, suspicion, whose bright eyes,  
jealous of nought your secretest counsels spies.   

Will you for any pleasure lose respect,  
of all your kindred that attend your fame,  
Which once surprised by infamies suspect,  
will call your acts augmenters of their shame?  
O do not so: let not your lust effect,  
the ruin of that house from whence you came:  
But as your glory doth surpass the rest,  
so in your heart let virtue build her nest.   

Vain is the flower, soon fading, soon forgot,  
which you do pamper to your overthrow,  
Time will be, when those beauteous corpse shall rot,  
their poor remainder to the earth bestow;  
Then you shall be as if you flourished not  
placed in earth's centre, Stygian lake below.  
Where Minos judgement gives of every sin,  
that those are guilty may remain with him.   

He was your father, yet his equity,  
will not permit his Phaedra to transgress:  
His laws have no exception, purity  
only exempted is, whose eminence  
Was first ordained to reign eternally,  
in the Elysian fields Ioues residence;  
Then choose which two you please, whether you'll dwell,  
in heaven with jove, or with your Sire in b●ll.   

Erect your thoughts depressed down below,  
and let them soar unto an higher pitch  
Then terrene pleasures, let that beauteous show  
of outward colours your affection teach  
To taste the Spring of sweets, from whence doth flow  
such mines of treasure, as will more enrich  
The Ars'nall of your mind then vain delight,  
which lopped is before it come to height.   

Recall to mind Ixion's punishment,  
see in a mirror what his folly got,  
Who whilst he soared above his element,  
kindly received of jove, himself forgot:  
And as a stream which runs too violent,  
passing his bounds and limits, knoweth not  
How soon that flow shall have a sudden fall,  
whose boundless current kept no mean at all.   

So did Ixion who in self-conceit  
of his proportion did aspire too high,  
Affecting juno which did ruinate,  
the mansion of his Pristine dignity,  
Dasling that sun which shone so bright of late,  
for with a cloud deceived engendered he  
The Centauris varied forms, which being bred,  
to Pelion came, where they inhabited.   

O then confine affection with the bound,  
of virtues honour, giving her the place  
In every action, making reasons ground  
the strong foundation, Time cannot deface,  
With beauteous fair contexture closed round,  
a correspondence twixt ●he mind and face:  
The one renowned by th'others purity.  
as if both made to make one unity.   

Shall Hymen's temple be defaced by you,  
Her sacred hests by your inconstancy;  
O be assured the gods will punish you,  
imbranding shame in your posterity,  
To break your faith and wrong a friend so true,  
under pretence of mere simplicity:  
Leave vertus shadow, and yourself betaken,  
to love the shadow for the substance sake.   

What virtues did your maiden years attend?  
white was your robe but whiter was your mind,  
When all your actions did to virtue tend;  
Each sense her proper function had assigned,  
virtues foundation had perfections end,  
youth mixed with grace: rare was't your like to find,  
But now your lustre soiled by shameless sinning,  
argues your end far worse than your beginning.   

Crete made renowned by father's memory,  
shalt be extinguished by the daughter's shame?  
Time's ancient brow records his equity.  
for time-impartialisters merit fame,  
Proud was the earth to have such men as he:  
earth seemed by him to change her earthly name.  
For near did fame with truth so nearly meet,  
as when your aged father governed Crete.   

O then be daughter to so good a father,  
be his life's pattern, show from whence you sprang,  
Seek to revive his glory trophies rather,  
then by your shame to see them overthrown,  
Some fruitful blossoms from his virtues gather:  
so may you make your father's fame your own:  
Crete was sustained oft by others fall.  
but she's sustained by Phaedra most of all.   

How will this trump of glory make your mind  
too low dejected, seek an other port  
Then that you aim at now: where you shall find,  
more perfect solace when you make resort  
Unto the shrine of Virtue, that's refined  
with purest colours, where the strongest fort  
That could be built by Nature or by Art,  
conserves the sacred treasure of the heart.   

O time deceing youth abusing time,  
making her stale to objects of delight,  
Seeing the best will to the worst decline:  
Night-owle, whose works dare not approach the light,  
Profaning that which was before divine,  
Truth's great'st opponent, virtues second sight,  
Whose mind bewitching vanities ensnare,  
our captived reason with a seeming fair.   

More should I write, but that I loathe to write  
of such a subject whose lascivious soil,  
Makes my poor lines ashamed of such delights,  
That Parents birth, should Parents bed defile,  
Or to play false when he is out of sight:  
distrusting nought should I his trust beguile?  
O cease to love live to advance your fame,  
freeing your Bed and me from Parent's shame.   

Yours if your own: But being not your own,  
I will not reope what other men have sown.   
FINIS.    

Riddle me this. An Emblem including the Author's name.  

Two ways there be, one broad, the other strait,  
which two beat paths lead to a distinct state  
Of weal, of woe: this if you right explain,  
the first, though worst, includes the Author's name.   
Or thus,  

A Brea, a Bank, a Border, or a Shore,  
Smiles on his name that brought these Satyrs over.   
His Crest,  

His Crest a Cuckold's Cross: his Motto, here  
I give a Badge which Citizens d●e wear.   
Blow my Plump-faced Poulterer of Saffron Hill.  
Place this and the leaf following after the end of the First Book. ¶   

To the equal Reader.  
IF that thy nature answer to thy name,  
Thou in thy judgement wilt express the same  
Which I entitle thee, and hate to be  
A squinteied Critic to misconstrue me.  
howsoever: be what thou wilt, if Equal, find  
Lines correspondent to thy Equal mind:  
If rough (for all my smoothness thou hast heard)  
Thou'se hear far rougher Satyrs afterward.  
For ●f these jerks so lightly laid on smart,  
Thoule find rare whipping cheer i'th' Second part.  
Where Furies run division on my song:  
Patience a while, and thou shalt have't ere long.   

To the Captious Reader.  
MY answer's this to him that says I wrong  
Our Art to make my Epigrams so long;  
I dare not bite, therefore to change my nature,  
I call't an Epigram which is a Satire.   

To the understanding Reader.  
FOr your better direction I have reduced these ensuing notes Alphabettically, with an apt relation to each particular included in the Poem, which may minister no less Grace to the invention, than delight to your reading.  
ᵃ SAlamina insula est Atheniensis, quam Telamonius gubernasse dicitur vitibus et myrtetis, eiusque generis arboribus vestita. vid. Plutarch.  
ᵇ Flumen maxim omnium inclytum, etc. Flumen è Niphatimonte originem ducens, et Babilonians celerrimo cursu secans, in rubrum mare prolabitur.  
ᶜ Alueum mutassa fertur ibid. etc.  
ᵈ In personam amatorum.  
ᵉ Zeuxis vuae vivis coloribus depictae. etc. vid. Plutarch, in Apoth.  
ᶠ Riphaei montes Arcadia, qui asperrimis verticibus subnixi sunt. vid. Caes. comen.  
ᵍ Lynceus & Argot incredibiliperspicatia luminum praediti.  
ʰ Coniux Orphui, qua per deserta loca currens, ut Arasteum, came immodeste nimis sequentem, evitaret, a serpent venenato infectae extremam diem obijt, came verolegimus, a plutone raptam esse, et subimperio suo miserrimam vitam transegisse, vid. ovid. et Senec. Trag. Her. Fu.  
ⁱ Homer. in Iliad. vid: super hunc lacum. Calabr● in quar. lib. de supple.  
ᵏ Turture sie Turtur iungit amanda suo. po●t.  
ˡ Timon pater Thisbis qui ingentem Thesauri molem in Arca recondidisse arbitratur eiusque aspectu, mirum in modum delectabatur. vid sab. in ovid. Metam.  
ᵐ Naphtha bituminis genus quod aspersione aquae vehementius exaestuat. Testan. plinio.  
ⁿ Love is more vehement deprived of her object.  
ᵒ Stellam veneris appellat Homerus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
ᵖ Vid lucan et pallin. de sid: nominibus.  
q Res est imperiosa timor.  
ʳ Sordities, ira nummorum copia mira, his natura sen●●▪ tribus est infectavenenis.  
ˢ unde Vestales virgines candidis stolis indutas ess●●egimus in Aulo. Gell. in noct. Att.  
ᵗ Sublimi stemmate ductus.  
ᵘ Nam si vis aptenubere, nube pari, ovid.  
ˣ Succinctis humeris scuto.  
ʸ Vid. plinium in Natur. hist. & Arist. de Natur. animal. Quos si Argut servet? qui occulatus totus sait. Plane● in Aulular.  
ᶻ Hippodamia filia oenomai quam Peleps celeritate carsus obtinebat.  
¹ Pelopid: bumeri: proverb.  
● Diana.  
³ Lustra ferarum. Virg.  
⁴ Noctis opaco cardine fulgebant stellae.  
⁵ Campi Elysij.  
● Nemesis ultionis dea.  
⁷ Pegasus alatus equus, a quo Hypocrene originem duxit.  
⁸ O quicunque sub hae habitatis rupe leones, etc., Ovid in Metam.  
⁹ una duos (inquit) nox perdit amantes, ovid.  
1● Sed timidi est optare necem: ibid.  
11 Myrtus vener, etc.  
12 Progne Phylomela, & it is.  
13 Ter, in upubam. Rex su●ram sic crista probat: sed sordida vita immunda● è tanto culmine fecit aucm, Campan in Ter.  
14 Exegi monumentum are perennius: marmore durius ebore serenius, vid. Eleg. Flac. et propert.  
15 Aegis Aretusa, & Hesperitusa Atlant: filiae, quae hortum Hesperiae aureis pomis refertissimum (open serpentis perpetuam vigiliam seruantis) tenebant, quam poste● Hercules interemit, vid. open: Her: in Sen: Trag.  
16 Arbour niveis pulcherrima pomis— Ardua Morus erat: Ibid. 17 Corticis exiguae, nigrique colo. ris Ebenns, etc., de natura gagatis: vid. Plin.  
1● Postquam vestem coguovit, et eiusdem. ovid.  
19 In tumulum Nini, allocutio.  
20 Viscera plus quam marmorea.  
21 Purpurea vela, leviorem auram trahe●tia, etc.  
22 Homer in Iliad. vid. calab. in deliquijs super hunc locum.  
23 Fluminis ut cecinit littore, cicnus, obit.  
24 Gagates quae monumenta excolere solebat non tam ob eximiae naturae proprietates, quam politae et exaratae Formae elegantias usurpata. vid. Plin. in Natur. histo.  
25 Batia, sepulchrum Ili, quod in Ilio erigebatur et in Troiano bello solenni honore afficilegimus. vid. Hom. ib.  
26 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, honos.  
27 Et mihi sortis in unum haec manus est: et amor, etc. ovid. ibid.  
28 Quoque magis tegitur tanto magis aestuatiguis.  
29 In parents naenia. 30 Vt sup. vid. eleg. Mart.  
31 Volat irrevocabile verbum. 32 Pyra solennis vid. Funer. antiq. in Gell. et al. ³³ Rosa quae redolet, crescit cum spina quae pungit. 34 Et fugit ad salices, & se cupit ante videri Virg. ³⁵ Vid virg. in 1o. lib. Georg. de Irrigatione. etc. 36 a Poetical fiction. 37 Ioues reply.  
38 Vid. Hesiod. de generat. dear. de natal. Hercul. et Plau. in Amphytrio— pol me haud penitet; Scilicet ●oni dimidium mihi dividere cum love.  
39 Et soror et coniux▪ etc. Virg. in Aenead 1o. lib.  
40 Nocte somniat, quae vigilans volui●. Terent.  
41 Oscula libavit natae. virg. 42 Idas filius Apharei qui celeritate equorum incredibili, Marpessam egregia forma puellam corripuit. vid. ovid. ⁴³ Horac. in 1. lib.  
44 Ratione verum a falso discernimus, quam a Nat●ra, nobis insitam habemus vid. Cic. 1, lib. offi. 45 Quae lae●o culmine Bustum occulit, arbustis teneris intexit opaci● vide Proper. 46 Tu quae ramis arbor miserabile corpus, ●unc tegis unius mox & tectura duorum. Ovid Metam. 47 Qui viret in folijs venit eradicibus humour, et patrum in natos abeunt cum stem●sate mores. 48 Vivit post f●●e; ra virtus, etc. 49 Vid. Apoth. rom. apud. Plutarch. 50— Et germina gemmis effulsere suis, fragrantia pascua veris, praemia diffundunt, nona fert nona semina, Terra. 51 O quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu? 52 Cessit post funera livor. vid. Apoth. Plut. de Aeschin. et Demosth. inimicit. et de obitu Demost.  
53 Ingentia terrae antra replere solent currentia font● perenni, etc. 54 Mare mittit amara, etc. 55 Vetus vietus veternosus mustellino colore. Terentius.  
56 De Oliva refert Plinius, quod post initi sedoris societatem, ramos eius arboris Fecialis gestare solebat, cuins indicio pacis specimina proferebantur, vid. in Philip. comm. de Bell. Ne apol. Olivaeramos pacis indicia circumfere solebant ij, cum quibus conditiones pacis confirmatae sunt. etc. 57 Recipit populos urna citatos. Senec●. 58 Babylon nunc vero Bagadeth appellata, a Nimrod● extruebatur. & a Semiramide extendebatur. In Euphratem Flu: amaemis: sita: vid: Geo-graph. comen. 59 Quia essa parentum corum rogis imiscebantur.  
60 Minotaur. 6● Ascendo: vires animus dabat aequo ita late Aequora prospectu metior alta meo, ovid. in ep. Ariad. Thes.  
FINIS.