TIMES CURTAIN DRAWN, OR THE ANATOMY OF VANITY. WITH OTHER CHOICE POEMS, Entitled; Health from HELICON.  
BY RICHARD BRATHWAYTH Oxonian.  
Ille ego qui quondam.  
LONDON Printed by john Dawson for john Bellamy, and are to be sold at the South entrance of the Royal-exchange. 1621.   

TO THE FAMOUS SEMINARY OF ALL ACCOMPLISHED KNOWLedge, his dear foster-Mother, the University of OXFORD; the happy supplie of judicious wits, with the increase of all succeeding HONOUR.  
TO thee) dear Mother) in whose learned lap,  
I once reposed, and from whose batt'ning pap  
I sucked the milk of knowledge, send I these  
Which if they please, as I could wish then please  
I'm honoured by them, and will still renew  
My love to them, because they're liked by you.  
But these are feeble, scarce Penfeathered,  
And like young Lapwings run with shell on head;  
Nor can I blame them: for belike they've heard,  
How I was young when I to you repaired:  
Growing in some sort riper; and these do  
Expect the like, that they shall thrive so too:  
Which I confess lies only in your power,  
For if you smile they live, die if you louvre;  
Nor need I fear, for I did never know  
Any dark Cloud sit on your smother brow.  
Yours in all endeared observance, R. B.   

A GRIEF: PERSONATED IN THE AUTHOR, AND Dedicated to Time, of whom he Borrows the Subject of his PASSION.  
CAre charming sleep, thou son of sable Night,  
That cheers our drooping spirits with delight;  
Making us forget care, as if kept under  
By some sweet spell, or some Lethean slumber,  
Away and leave me: Thee I brook not well,  
" Sorrow best fitteth with a Cloudy cell.  
And what more cloudy, then where Sun ne'er shone,  
Where nought keeps Concord but continued moan,  
Where sighs of Lovers, Passions of the mind,  
Are all the Guests, that you are like to find?  
Poor blubbered Soul, is grief in her extent?  
Or is your source of tears already spent?  
Affliction works distraction! aye me then,  
That feels the most, yet shows the least of men.  
Yet if thou have the memory to relate  
The poor remainder of thy forlorn state,  
Express it boldly: Men are pleased to hear  
Those griefs discoursed, that once were hard to bear.  
O then attend, and when my speech doth leave,  
Say, If ere any had more cause to grieve!  
You idle hours, our Calendars of ruth,  
And time ill spent, the prejudice of youth,  
Are first presented to my grieved heart,  
Come then (as first presented) act your part,  
Come, for you can, and well I know you will,  
Tell me what I have done or good or ill.  
Good; that is reckoned soon: but th' ill I've done,  
Much do I fear will not be summed so soon.  
You keep the score, and chalk from day to day,  
While I run on in debt, and will not pay;  
Yet I must pay, my Creditor will call,  
Where I must pay both use and principal.  
First for the hour: or for the least of time,  
Minute or instant, for that's only mine,  
What instant is there, or hath ever been  
Since I knew sin, wherein I did not sin:  
What moment did I good, or if I did,  
Was not vainglory in the action hid?  
I know it, O I know it but too well,  
And much it grieves my pensive soul to tell  
What she has done, and gladly would I leave  
My tale, and say, I know not how to grieve;  
But I must speak, what Time doth press me too,  
" For its less shame to speak then shame to do.  
Why did I know, if that my knowledge were  
The only cause why I so far did err?  
As sure it was: since sacred discipline  
Should make our minds eternally divine;  
Not darkened with Earth's substance, but in love  
Of her own Image, seek for things above,  
From whence her Image came! blessed had I been;  
If, as I knew this, so I had but seen  
Into the real glory of my soul,  
O that had then been fair, that now is soul.  
Unhappy I to care more for the rind  
Then for the pith, the body than the mind,  
Unhappy I to make my wit a bait  
Unto myself: my knowledge a conceit  
Too overweening; O I did not well,  
Knowing for this, the brightest Angel fell  
Conceit is like a shaft shot from a Bow,  
Which flies a while aloft, but lighteth low.  
Low did my judgement light, when I did aim,  
By self renown to purchase me a Name:  
Whereas (God-wot) that worth which was in me,  
Scarce could redeem my Name from infamy.  
For what is humane Eminence, estate,  
Honour, demerit, an auspicious Fate,  
Conquest, renown, Trophies of lasting worth,  
When they that got them, lie in Bed of earth?  
Nothing. alas nothing: there's no good in them,  
For these yield small perfection unto men;  
Save what the world gives, and that is given  
Oft times on earth, is never found in heaven.  
I mean of merit, where men popular,  
In their affections usually do err,  
In counting that desert, which hath a show  
Of goodness in it: but is nothing so.  
For I have seen, even in these fewer years  
Which I have lived, how many one appears  
In show and outward lustre to be that  
Which he is not, if you observe his state.  
Now virtues are pretences, where we owe  
Less far to substance, than we do to show.  
And good we call him (so the Vulgar deem)  
Who though he be not good, yet good doth seem.  
O time for thee I grieve (thou grieves for me)  
And mutual love should I express to thee:  
Thou see'st our Errors, wherewith we abuse  
Thyself, that art of all most precious.  
Thou see'st our vainest pomp, and how we tie,  
Our admiration only to the eye  
Of our Beholder: thou art he, that sees  
Our Time's expense, those great arrearages  
Which are against us: and it well appears,  
Thou pities us, sending out briny tears  
In pure remorse, which we, thrown on the shelves  
Of Desolation, shed not for ourselves.  
Here rides Poppea, Nero's Concubine,  
In her gilt Chariot; there rash Catiline,  
Unbounded in's desire; here Claudius  
Pressed to affections most incestuous;  
Here Messalyna, an insatiate whore;  
There Danae wrestling with a golden shower;  
Here covetous Midas sold to avarice;  
There old Hermocrates with his four eyes;  
Poring on's Almanac, cursing the earth,  
And blessing's Fate when there ensues a dearth.  
I'll be revenged, ere many days be done,  
an't shall be said near mother censured son,  
With more extended rigour: thus shalt'be.  
Now in these young days of thy jollity,  
When pleasures mansion in thee, now when youth  
Riots in vain delight, I with my Sith  
(For I can use Times-Syth) will cut thee down,  
And then (my Son) where's all thy pomp become?  
Frolic a while, like Summer-Butterflies,  
I am the chest where all thy honour lies;  
Nor canst thou pass death's verdict, nor my doom,  
I was thy Cradle, I must be thy Tomb.  
See see (unhappy youth) the utmost date  
Of all thy time, see what thou levellst at?  
A shroud, a grave; where then's thy glory seen?  
Of where those shows of honour that have been  
Eminent in thee? 'las they've lost their breath,  
And are extinguished in the stroke of death.  
What is the height of honour pruned so soon?  
Is our youth's May-game with such quickness done?  
O then (poor soul) why stayest thou here so long,  
Or Tuttle-like throbbs not thy doleful song  
T'express thy Pilgrimage? Is here a place  
Ever to dwell in? No; so short's the pace  
Of humane frailty, that the strongest of all,  
Stands not so firm, but he may fear to fall.  
And is this world such a precious dish,  
Where few have what they need, none what they wish,  
As it deserves our Admiration? No,  
What ere the worldling think, it is not so.  
Honours, preferments, riches, and estate  
Are but as Fuel, which engender hate  
To the possessor, for who ere was seen  
Rich, and had none that ever enured him?  
Why should I crave to please an outward sense,  
When reason seeks no more than competence?  
And that's a very little: as some food  
To sustain Nature, and some clothes, not proud  
Nor gairish, but such fitting weeds as should  
Save us from Summer's heat and Winter's cold.  
For who (remembering th'cause why clothes were made)  
Even then, when Adam fled unto his shade  
For covert of his Nakedness, will not blame  
Himself to glory in his Parent's shame?  
Weep, weep (Fantastic Minion) for to thee  
My grieved passion turns: O may I be  
Cause of Conversion to thyself, that art  
Composed of Man, and therefore I bear part  
In thy distracted Habit: (ugly piece,  
For so I term thee) Woman-monster cease,  
Cease to corrupt the excellence of mind,  
By soiling it with such an odious rind,  
Or shameless Cover? waning, wavering Moon,  
That spends the morn, in decking thee till noon;  
Hast thou no other Ornaments to wear  
Save such wherein thy lightest thoughts appear?  
Hast thou no other honour, other Fame,  
Save robes, which make thee glory in thy shame?  
Lascivious Idol, that with painted cheek,  
Sinne-drawing eye, thy sacred vow dost break  
With thy Creator: hence thy sin is more,  
Adoring that which thou shouldst not adore.  
What? No conversion yet? Dost yet persist  
In thy depraved condition? Pray thee desist  
From thy deformed Fashion: let that time  
Which thou hast vainly spent to become fine,  
Be now redeemed, that aftertimes may say,  
Thy Night of pride is turned to virtue's Day.  
Alas what avails this sleeking of thy sin,  
When the cold womb of earth shall take thee in.  
To lodge with her? where for delicious sweets,  
Corruption shall embrace thee, and those sheets  
Wherein thy lustful Body took delight,  
Shall shroud thy corpse in deaths eternal Night,  
Yet thou replies: I must observe the Time:  
Must I look dark, when all my sex doth shine  
In beauty and perfection? Pray thee hear,  
If it be darkness to be grave in wear,  
Modest in gesture, womanlike in all,  
Choose thee that Habit, what so ere befall.  
It's Virtue's livery, and will more express  
Of true perfection, native excellence  
In beauty, lustre, comeliness, and show,  
Then all our light-tailed huswives ere shall do.  
These are the Devil's Lures, made to ensnare  
Unwary youth, with their dissembled fair.  
These are those spotted Lepers that defile,  
The flowery bosom of this fruitful I'll.  
These are those smiling Hyenes that confound  
The spacioust kingdoms, & make cursed the ground.  
These are those Panthers, which with smiling cheer,  
Prove there the worst, where thy the best appear.  
These are Niles Crocodyles, which having power,  
Oppress the people, and the State devour.  
These are those babels strumpets, with false forms  
Deceiving men, yet are surprised by Worms,  
The Worm of Conscience, which shall ere abide,  
And be a Corasive for lust and pride.  
Injurious stains, if I could but impart  
The secret hate I bear you in my heart,  
And had but power to will, not one I swear  
Of that adulterate sex should nestle here:  
Or if they did, they should such Penance have,  
As they might go true Converts to their Grave.  
For silks should saccloth, and for powdered hair,  
Should ashes be their penitential wear:  
So might my doom authentic be and just,  
" Sackcloth on pride, and ashes strowed on lust.  
Here Scylla, than whom none could ever be,  
More friend to's friend, or foe to's enemy.  
Lastly, here's all that's 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 EPHA KAI HMEPAI.  ill: but what is good,  
Is not at all, or is not understood.  
Here is no Photion, Cato Utican,  
No trusty Brutus, nor no African,  
No Thales, Solon, nor no Pistacus,  
No Periander, nor Cleobulus;  
No Bias, Chylo, now the Senate's done,  
The 
* Laert: in vit, Philos.  Tripod's stolen, and all the sages gone.  
What my perplexed soul, whither so fast,  
More fairly on, the fair will not be passed:  
Touch not Abuses, but with modest lip,  
For 
* One whom I admire, being no less happy for his native invention, then exquisite for his proper and clegant dimension.  some I know were whipped, that thought to whip;  
Unto thine own: thy errors are enough,  
And full too many for one page to show.  
Where in discourse mix passion with thy line,  
And hold thy course till that the Sun decline,  
That now thy passions waking, now asleep,  
May weep and laugh at Time, may laugh & weep.  
For oft we see, men troubled with annoy,  
Do laugh for anger, and do weep for joy.  
Time is portrayed bald, yet my young mind,  
Letting occasion pass, catcht Time behind,  
I catcht indeed, but could not apprehend,  
Which made me sigh for my deplored end.  
Unhappy youth (quoth I) thus I began,  
That art endued with reason, best of man,  
Yet arms the best of man, to man's offence,  
Making thy reason Bondslave unto sense.  
Thou canst distinguish well of every Time,  
And knows by th'air when th' Sun 'gins to decline,  
Whether fair weather's like for to ensue,  
This thou observest, and thy coniecture's true.  
But alas how simple art, when thou wouldst find,  
The native temper of thy sin-sick mind,  
How far's thy knowledge off? so far, God wot,  
That though thou seem to know't, thou knowst it not.  
Nor can thy Ignorance plead for defence,  
For knowledge has informed thy Conscience,  
Which so afflicts thee, there's no hope of peace,  
For Conscience is a thousand witnesses.  
Seest thou thy shame, and canst thou love the name  
Of ugly sin, that brought thee to that shame?  
Seest thou thy form made glorious at the first,  
By the pollution of thy sin accursed?  
Seest thou thyself and dost not blush to see,  
The best of Creatures made the worst by thee:  
Seest thou the Sun sphered in his royal course,  
How upon Plants, fruits, metals he has force,  
And with his Beams reflects on every place,  
Adorning th' Heaven with his transpiercive grace?  
Seest thou this glorious light, and doth thy soul  
Think it will shine on any thing so foul,  
As thy corruption? O no: such art thou,  
In thy enormous actions, as to show  
The horror of thy sins, would crave more Time  
Than hours thou hast to live: unhappy clime  
Whose birth doth shame his Country, and I see  
That verdict now to be pronounced on me,  
And that on due desert: for where I might  
Have made my Country happy: through delight  
Of vain affections, wherewith I was ta'en,  
Myself was to myself my Country's shame.  
Unhappy I to frustrate the desire  
Of my dear Country, which did plant me higher  
Than my demerits were, yet such was I  
In my succeeding course, as vanity  
Conceited, 'bou● desert, made me so proud  
As that became worst ill, that seemed most good.  
And can presumption yet restrain my pace?  
Or is my shame so hardened, as my face  
Dare view the light? O impudence in sin,  
When in our End, we do afresh begin  
To multiply offences! Can yond light  
(Yond splendent body) which shows true delight  
To every Blossom, can it seeing thee  
Abide t'express her former putitie,  
Whilst thou art in presence? no, I know it will  
Seeing thy shame, glade in some shady Hill,  
And quite obscure her lustre, that thy crime  
Might see itself in th' absence of her shine.  
Alas I do labour of a fruitless birth.  
And viperlike, makes my poor mother earth,  
Curse th'time she bore me: did I not says she,  
Foster thy youth, brought up too tenderly?  
Did I not suffer mine own Breast be pierced,  
The secret crannies of my Bosom searched,  
That thou might be refreshed? Did not my love,  
Bear up thy weak limbs, when thou couldst not move  
From mine own Centre? Did not I produce  
Store in abundance for thy private use,  
Of which thou canst not say, thou ere hadst scant,  
Possessing that which many better want?  
Am not I she that cheers thee, when alone,  
Yet as contemned I am trod upon?  
Am not I she supports thy feeble stand,  
And like a nursing mother, with my hand  
dandles thee on my knee? yet for all this,  
Thou kills thy Mother with a judas kiss.  
Affliction to my Age, shall my wronged breast  
Be furrowed for thy good? when I'm oppressed  
More by such Bats, to whom I favour show,  
Then by such strangers, as I never knew:  
No, no, depraved Issue, for thy name,  
I hate to tell't: ●ith it augments my shame.  
But what (my Muse) art thou so lusty grown,  
As censuring others, thou forgets thine own?  
Come, come express thy grief, make thy complaint  
And to sad notes tune thy soul's dreariment.  
Let not one line, one accent, or one word  
Run from thy Pen, that may delight afford  
Unto the Reader: but such Notes as force  
Passion in men, and in thyself remorse;  
Make those thy best of concord: if ere I  
Could portray sorrow with a teare-dimd eye,  
Affliction in her colour, or distress  
In native Feature, O may I express  
That Image now, and when it's fully shown,  
May I enstileed an Image of mine own.  
Dissolve thyself, and as thou art a man  
Near swallowed up of sin, let th' Ocean  
Of thy distreaming eyes assoil that sin,  
Which thou (poor soul) art thus emplunged in.  
What; no tears? sorrow art thou gone from me,  
As if I stood not any need of thee?  
Is due compassion thrown on shipwracks shelf,  
So ruthless grown, it will not wail itself?  
Perfidious and accursed that issue is,  
Whose headlong course converts the Parent's bliss,  
Unto a curse, and am not I that birth  
Of Desolation that remains on earth  
Daring Heavens-maker? as if he that made  
Me to his glorious Image, were afraid  
To enter plea against me; sinful wretch  
Thinks thou that God, who doth the heavens stretch  
Like to a Curtain, He whose sovereign might  
Produced out of pitchy darkness, light;  
Composed the Ball of Earth, bounded with shores  
The raging Ocean, that it should no more  
Second her Inundation: who began  
A little world, in a little man.  
He who each plant, each blossom, fruit, and spray,  
cheereth and cherisheth from day to day.  
He whose transpiercive eyes each thing beholds,  
And with his eye of knowledge pure, unfolds  
The secret of our thoughts, He whose power can  
Subdue the Lion, and Leviathan;  
He whose exhaled breath converted to Ire  
Throws down the wicked to eternal fire;  
He whose advanced signal doth retain  
A milk-white colour; like a Tamburlaine,  
Implying mercy, which if't do no good,  
Next he advanceth, signifieth Blood,  
Ruin, subversion: He who is the King  
Of the whole Earth, and swayeth every thing  
By line of his direction: He whose seat  
Is in the Clouds, and's eadie to entreat,  
If he find true contrition: He whose power  
Can crop our huma●e Glory like a flower.  
He who hath ever been, is now, shall be.  
What is it, that he cannot do with thee?  
Wert thou a Giant, yet such is his force.  
Who like a Giant's pressed to run his course;  
That thy aspiring thoughts should soon decline,  
Like to those Giants were in former time.  
Wert thou of such great power, as some have been,  
Whose populous Armies dried the Rivers clean,  
Yet would that God of hosts, thy power confound,  
And strew thy slaughtered corpse upon the ground.  
Wert thou in strength of body eminent,  
Yet lass how soon is that consumed and spent  
With one days sickness? Were thy beauty rare,  
Thy golden Tresses like the Sun-beamed hair  
Of grace less Absalon: perchanceed might be  
Thy hair would work thy bane, as well as he.  
Wert thou as rich as Croesus, yet would Time  
Inter thee, and that Golden calf of thine;  
Whilst Miser-like thou might thy richesses curse,  
‛ Sith th'devils mouth is termed a Mis●rspurse.  
Wert thou as royal, as Agrippa was,  
Who seemed in pomp and glory to surpass  
Humane condition, whilst applauses than  
Should crown thy state: The voice of God not man.  
Yet for that lustre decked with varied forms,  
Wretched thou art, when all consum'd with worms?  
Alas distracted soul, What's fine array,  
Or Fare deliciously for every day:  
Yea, I do think, if I were forced by want,  
I could in time learn th' Trade of Sycophant:  
And profit by it, for there's very few,  
" But they live poor that labour to write true;  
Yet can I not if I should burst my gall,  
Gain me that good opinion of all.  
Nor do I care for't: for come what can come,  
I am resolved how ere I find their doom:  
Let this serve for the Proem, and now see  
Your pictures drawn in Time's Anatomy:  
Which seen, you cannot but admire the more,  
To read me smooth that was so harsh before.   

TIMES ANATOMY, DISPLAYED In six distinct Subjects. 

1. Riches.  
2. Povertie.  
3. justice..  
4. Injustice.  
5. Fate.  
6. Death.    BY RICHARD BRATHWAYTE. Oxonian. 
— Sic Tempora slemus.  

Of Richesse.  
TO thee the Worldlings Idol, do I make,  
These harsh●tund Poems for my country's sake,  
Which thou hast wronged too long, alas for woe,  
That we should see't and suffer't to be so.  
It's thou that fosters enmity, debate,  
Sedition, faction, and dost ruinate  
The Noblest states, in haling down the rod  
Of Vengeance on thee, that thou art made a God  
On earth: For who, I pray thee do but show  
Deserves a Cap, or bended knee but thou?  
Who merits honour, who cans credit stretch  
So far as thou, that art esteemed rich?  
Nay, let me step yet further, I shall find,  
The world's trash held sovereign of the mind.  
For who are wise but Rich-men, or who can  
Find th'Golden means, but in a Golden man?  
He is Earth's darling; and in time will be,  
Hell's darling too, for who's so fit as he,  
Indeed if Riches were sincerely used,  
And not so much by Cormorants abused;  
That make their Chest their Christ, then might we find,  
In richest States, a charitable mind:  
Who like good Stewards of what they possess,  
Would distribute to th'poor or more of less:  
If not the silks of Sydon, or of Tyre,  
Yet is their bounty shown by their desire;  
For not the gift, but th'mind of him that gives,  
Accepted is, and his Reward receives.  
But alas how far off many Rich-men be,  
From th'bond of love, or link of charity?  
Where Rich-men give to th'rich, thinking it vain,  
To give to them that cannot give again,  
These will not do as we in Scripture read,  
That bids v● on the waters throw our bread.  
" For then be sure, how ere we seem to others,  
" We would regard our poor distressed brothers.  
And make his tears which he poor soul sends forth  
As ●egisters whence we produced our birth.  
For alas when we shall from this house of Clay,  
Be clean dissolved, as we must one day;  
How heavy will our doom at that time be,  
That pitied not our Brother's penury?  
Where shall our po●pe and majesty be then,  
Where all those honours we received 'mongst men?  
Where's our Attendance, where's our noble birth?  
Or where's our wealth we gloried in on earth?  
Alas we shall then be stripped of all we have,  
Nought left us but a Coffin and a Grave:  
And happy we if so it might befall,  
The Grave might end our grief, but this's not all;  
Lower the wretched must of force descend,  
To that same place where sorrows have no end.  
And dost thou yet (fond richman) hug thy pelf,  
Which makes thee an Archtraitor to thyself?  
Dost thou consume thy days, adorning it,  
That damns thy soul, infatuates thy wit;  
Makes thee a Rebel, forcing thee to swerve,  
From thy Creator, whom thou ought to serve?  
Tortures thy guilty Conscience (simple fool)  
To have thy state to witness 'gainst thy soul.  
But thou'lt object, why should I be so rough  
Against thee, that art resolved to do enough  
Before thou diest: For I do hear thee still  
Harp on a good, and charitable Will.  
Which shall express what thou in life time meant,  
By thy last will, and final Testament.  
Good-wills be good indeed, and worthily  
Do they deserve our best of memory:  
But much I fear, this good is mixed with ill,  
And that good wills proceed not from Good will:  
For if they did methinks it should not grieve them,  
To give them freely, before they're forced to leave them.  
And sure methinks None can be said to give,  
But such as do it frankly while they live.  
" For when they're dead (as't shall be after shown)  
" That which they give cannot be called their own.  
And why should we our Rich-men so commend  
That give fair Legacies before their end;  
Since judus well we know, of all men worst  
Gave dying, all he had, yet died accursed:  
Yet these men give but part, judas gave all,  
(May English- Jews be warned by judas fall.)  
O then let Time, whose ripe occasion brings  
A blessed success unto the best of Kings.  
Excite you Rich-men, both in life and death,  
But most in life, to cheer such with your breath;  
The breath of life, food, raiment, and the like,  
As at your doors send out their rueful shrike,  
Shutnot your Ears, for be you sure of this,  
Shutting from them, you shall be shut from bliss;  
Take them into your houses, for we reed,  
Some have received Prophet in their weed.  
For if you open not unto the poor,  
How shall you enter when you knock at door●  
Of Zions Palace? For, approved we see  
Saints minister to Saints necessity.  
Be then yourselves, and with Zacheus give,  
Not on your Deathbeds, but now whilst you live,  
And are in health, for such shall have reward,  
Though not on Earth, yet surely afterward;  
And their reward shall be so much the more  
As they were openhearted to the poor.  
But'las how many Sponges now there be  
Which soak the needy, and with cruelty  
Oppress the silly Orphan? It is true,  
Too many be there of this wicked crew,  
That pester this sweet Island, with the cries  
Of poor distressed souls, whence vengeance hies  
With feathered speed, to make these great-ones know  
" There is a God above that sees below;  
And can discurse each secret, and has power  
To punish the rich when they the poor devour.  
Dear Noboth cries, and none do pity him,  
While Ahab sleeps securely in his sin;  
Naboth must lose his Vineyard, true he must  
" For what's unjust, by Greatness is made just.  
His ground lies ●itly for him, and he will  
Either obtain it, or his Neighbour kill:  
For if the poore-man chance but to deny it,  
He means with some forged Title to come by it?  
So as by force he's stripped of land and all,  
‛ For th' Proverb holds, the weakest goes to th'wall.  
But hear me richman whom so ere thou be  
That triumphs thus in others misery:  
When thou hast purchased what thou didst desire,  
Be sure Oppression must not lose her hire;  
For there's a judgement, and a sharp one too,  
Will startle thee, though thou art careless now.  
Then will poor Naboth, whom thou here didst wrong  
Witness against thee, while thy faltering tongue  
Without defence, with silence charmed shall be,  
Yielding to all that is objected against thee.  
How fearful will that sentence then appear.  
When death and horror shall be every where?  
When ghastly spirits summon thee to hell,  
And thou art forced to bid thy joys farewell:  
" Where cruel worms shall eat thy heartstrings out  
" Where groans & grieves, sighs, shrieks sound all about.  
What is the fruit then of Oppression? Sure  
That Vale of Tophet which shall ere endure.  
And make him draw an ever-loathing breath,  
Dying in life, and living in a death.  
O then how happy he that so doth live  
As th' one hand knows not, what the other give.  
Dispencing freely, what he doth possess  
Of all his substance, which doth well express  
His love to God, whose Mansion is above,  
Bearing his Image such especial love;  
For God hath promised such to live for ever,  
" Sith he himself doth love a cheerful Giver.  
O that this flowery I'll, whose sacred name  
Makes her recorded in the Book of fame;  
Where Times- illustrate Trophies show her glory,  
" So well displayed in many ancient story;  
Would scourge these Gold-adorers for example,  
" All Symmoniacke patrons out ath Temple:  
So should the Gospel, Ophyrs' purest gold,  
Be more esteemed then to be bought or sold;  
So should we have in Zion Shepherds store,  
Which come not in at window, but at door:  
So should our Church resume her golden Age;  
And learning freely get a Parsonage.  
So should good Shepherds make their flocks increase  
And know their office not to slay nor fleece.  
So should our Church be as it ought to be,  
Not subject to smooth-faced Simony.  
So should our Churchmen gain them more esteem,  
" Seem what they be, and be the same they seem.  
So should th'Donation of all Benefice  
Aim at a man of Merit, not of price;  
So should God's house be honoured more than now,  
Having such Pastors as might tell us how.  
O Patroness if you knew how ill it were,  
To make the Church a Mart, or public fair:  
Where Magus- like you sell the Churches good,  
If this I say you rightly understood;  
You would accurse the Riches you have got  
By such sinister means: and wish your lot  
Had been Employment in the Commonweal,  
(Though on the meanest condition) then to steal,  
Purloin, embezle what the Church doth owe,  
Which you on lust and riot do bestow.  
Much better were't to beg from door to door,  
Then being Rich, to make God's Temple poor.  
For well I wot the Father's Simony,  
Lays heavy curse on his posterity.  
And that foundation which is so begun,  
Seldom succeeds from Father to the Son.  
For this we know approved by sacred writ,  
Which comprehends the mysteries of wit;  
Not humane but divine, where Treasures store  
Are locked up from the proud, and open to th' poor.  
That though the Rich seem in abundance blest,  
And now Secure says, Now soul take thy rest.  
Yet all this Bliss continues but a day,  
For Night will come and take his soul away.  
Yea, though the Rich-men of the world do seem,  
Like a Bay-tree, whose leaves be ever green;  
Yet their foundations stand not on firm ground,  
" For coming back their place shall not be found.  
But for the Righteous and his hopeful seed,  
Who ever saw them forced to beg their bread.  
Sure David did not (as himself hath told)  
Though he was young and lived till he was old.  
O how the best of Blessings are abused,  
Good in themselves and if discreetly used.  
Nature's endowments, but depraved we see,  
And count them worst of any things that be.  
For it's the best of Fortune's compliment,  
To aim in Riches at the soul's content;  
Which planted on the sovereign of bliss,  
Makes what is ours in Essence one with his.  
But such as aim at honour, and by art  
Of smooth insinuation, make their heart  
A stranger to their Language, to obtain  
A little earthly profit; What is their gain  
But th'Guerdon of Ambition? Which aspires  
Too high, to reach the port of her desires.  
Yea, I may say, if ere we could espy  
A Camel haled through a Needle's eye;  
Or any work how difficult so ere,  
Accomplished by a Pigmy: we may here  
Produce the like, nay, I may say far more,  
For like to this was ne'er produced before.  
" For its a Sentence that's already given,  
It's hard for Rich-men to inherit heaven.  
Such men indeed as are by wealth enriched.  
To make their gold their God, their Chest their Christ.  
Gold make not rich, whence is that Proverb grown  
So common now: Content is worth a Crown.  
For many poormen richer far we see,  
Through their content, than such as Richest be.  
Old Chremes in the Poet rakes for pelf,  
And to enrich his heir torments himself.  
Which when his Son has got (mark th'misers care)  
He spends as fast on lust and luscious Fare.  
Bare were his Father's dishes, Bedding mean,  
Homespun his Coat, his chop-falne cheeks as lean;  
Hunger his Sauce, his Recreation pain,  
To tell his Gold and put it up again.  
Yet see the fruit of's labour, and his end,  
What th'Father could not use, the Son can spend.  
For true it is which was averred by one,  
" A scraping Father makes a sporting Son.  
Well known that maxim is (though th'instance evil,  
happy's that son whose Father goes to th'devil.  
Many we read of, that were like to these,  
As Hermon, Phaedon, and Hermocrates:  
The first whereof was so enthralled to wealth,  
As he contemned the Benefit of health;  
And seeing that there was no remedy,  
But he must yield to fraylemortalitie:  
To show that Love he bore to wealth before,  
He made himself his own Executor.  
Next Phaedon was, who seeing death at hand,  
Commanded such as did about him stand;  
That when he was departed, straight they should,  
Stitch in his winding sheet pieces of gold,  
For sure (quoth he) I am, those judges three  
Which be in hell, will soon corrupted be;  
If they but see this Gold, and so shall I  
By bribing Hell obtain my liberty.  
But of all others that Hermocrates  
May be esteemed for the vain'st of these,  
Who when he saw that fatal time was come,  
That he must die, commanded them build a Tomb  
Of purest Gold, and that there should be laid  
Three bags of Gold as Pillows for his head▪  
For if (quoth he) our death as it's expressed,  
Be but a sleep, in which we seem to rest,  
Till that our souls such privilege obtain,  
To reassume their Bodies once again.  
Small is the rest which I am like to have,  
Without this blessed companion in my Grave.  
And hear me friends, good cause I have to doubt it,  
Since while I lived, sleep could I ne'er without it.  
O if we knew what wealth were in content,  
And how a very little's competent  
To Nature, we would learn what Scriptures teach,  
Desiring rather to be good than rich.  
For goodness is a lasting Epithyte,  
And gives us knowledge of that Infinite  
Which is transcendent, if then understood  
" It is the best of Richesses to be good.  
And sure methinks three causes there should be,  
Might move us hate all super fluity  
In these respects: First, they inconstant are  
And subject to mutation; next, the care  
They bring to their possessor: last of all  
They force us from God's Providence to fall,  
Which violation slaveth some we see,  
Falling from God unto Idolatry.  
For though this Golden Calf of Horeb stand,  
Not open to the World, yet this Land  
Hath many private Baalites, I fear,  
Which more affection to their Idol bear,  
Then to their Maker: and though they have art  
To hide their Gild, they worshipped with their heart,  
And hath not then this Island cause to mourn,  
To see her people thus to Baal's turn,  
And leave their God? Yes, she has cause to show  
At no time more effects of Grief then now:  
Where this Souls-dropsie, thirsty Avarice  
Enforceth Rich-men to Idolatrise;  
Who, when they have crammed up their Chests with store,  
The more they have, they covet still the more.  
And whereto tends all this? If we might stay,  
Or going hence bear our estate away:  
There were some reason of our care to get,  
And yet no cause of our adoring it.  
But neither borne to stay, nor bear it hence,  
Thus to admire it, it is foolishness.  
For know Richman a shroud shall be thy store,  
" This poor men have, & Rich-men have no more.  
" But haste the Muse to what is known of thee,  
" As thou wast borne to't, write of Poverty.  
FINIS.   

Of Poverty.  
NOw unto thee that art contemned of all,  
Derided, spurned, forced from the wall  
Unto the kennel, do I frame my speech,  
That I thyself some patience might teach.  
And move withal such as do hear thee cry,  
" But stop their Ears, to some more charity.  
Take comfort then, for thou shalt see on earth,  
Most of thy coat to be of greatest worth.  
Though not in state, for who ere saw but merit,  
Was rather borne to beg than to inherit;  
Yet in the Gifts of Nature, we shall find,  
A ragged Coat oft have a Royal mind.  
For to descend to each distinct degree,  
By due Experience we the same shall see.  
If to Parnassus where the Muses are,  
There shall we find their Diet very bare:  
Their houses ruined, and their well springs dry,  
Admired for nought so much as Poverty.  
Here shall we see poor Aeschylus maintain  
His Nighterne studies with his Daily pain;  
Pulling up Buckets (but 'twas never known)  
That filling others, he could fill his own.  
Here many more discern we may of these,  
As Lamachus, and poor Antisthenes;  
Both which the sweets of Poesy did sipp,  
Yet were Rewarded with a staff and scripp:  
For I ne'er knew, nor (much I fear) shall know it,  
Any die rich, that lived to die a Poet.  
If to Profession of the Law we go,  
We find the best Practisioners prove so;  
For such we count the best, as will not be  
(For Conscience-sake) corrupted with a fee;  
Whilst others of less Conscience far, than wit,  
Think him not wise, cannot dispense with it.  
If to the Ploughman, who doth till the Land,  
And gets himself a living by his hand:  
Oft we shall find for all his early care,  
Continual labour, and his slender fare;  
His hopeful crop hath not his wished success,  
Or something else mis-carries, more or less;  
Which questionless, is to the Ploughman sent,  
To try him with, and make him patient.  
Yea, we shall see that Fortune bears a hate,  
In every order, rank, degree, and state:  
To men of most demerit: th'cause may be,  
Fortune is blind and cannot merit see:  
Or for because herself is ignorant,  
She gives the wittol, le's the witty want,  
Desiring only such men to advance,  
As honour her and favour ignorance.  
And sure me thinks, an instance may be given,  
Even in these sacred Ministers of Heaven;  
Such I do mean who honour much the Lord▪  
In Reverend dispensing of his Word,  
Breaking the Bread of life with due respect,  
Yet are Rewarded with a mere Neglect:  
Reaping for their deserts no other Grace,  
Then some poor stipend, or a Curates place.  
This is their hire, while others less deserving  
In Conversation, Grave respect and learning  
Eat of the fat, Nonresidence must serve,  
Feeding themselves, while their poor flocks do starve:  
Such were those Abby-lubbers who could sleep,  
And fleece their Flocks, but seldom feed their sheep.  
These like to Drones (for so they seem to me)  
Live on the Labours of th'Industrious Bee:  
For while the Bee (to make her honeycomb)  
Rome's here and there: these dronelike stay at home,  
And eat the fruit (so be these Lubbars fed)  
For which the Bee so truly laboured.  
Call up thy spirits then, who ere thou be  
That are distressed by means of Poverty.  
For this thou see'st descendeth in a Blood,  
And claims possession only of the Good.  
It's not our Virtues, nor the worth of men  
●ow rare so ever, can exempt us then  
From this Affliction, but it's in our will  
(Disposed by God) to take it well or ill.  
For he that takes it as from Heaven sent,  
For's better Trial and Experiment,  
" Makes a right use of what he doth sustain,  
" And for his want, shall have a treble gain.  
Some we have read of Rich, and others poor,  
Yet being dead, we find of them no more  
Than that they were, and being now both gone,  
'twixt rich and poor the difference is none.  
And therefore was it shadowed well at these,  
By that same Cynick-doggd Diogenes,  
Who on a time to make a special use  
Of humane state, went to a Charnel house,  
Where store of skulls, and bones he gathered,  
Of Princes, Peers, and Beggars that were dead.  
Which being done, he laid them in the way  
Where Alexander was to pass that day;  
Who in Victorious manner passing by,  
Asked him the reason, why those Bones did lie  
In such a frequent place? Quoth he, I know  
Here be the Bones of Swains and Princes too,  
And I have sought (but all I did is vain)  
To know which is the Princes from the Swain.  
It's true indeed that Virtue only gives  
Life to our Name, by which it only lives:  
For outward States how glorious so ere,  
Make us but honoured only while we're here,  
For when the hourglass of our life is run,  
That admiration which we had is done,  
And all that pomp and beauty of our day  
By Sith of Fate is taken clean away.  
We read of in the Stories of fore time,  
How that Redow●ted Sultan Saladine,  
After exploits and sundry Victories,  
With which be had enlarged his Seignories;  
Bravely achieved, he fell extremely sick,  
And feeling now the sting of death to prick,  
He called his Chieftain to him, who at hand,  
Drew near and asked him what was his command.  
To thee (quoth Saladine) as General  
Of my Victorious Army do I call,  
For thou hast seen me with my Persian darts  
To force a terror in the Eastern parts.  
Yea well thou knowst I never lost the day  
But still departed Conquer our away:  
Yet now behold how I am captive led,  
And in my Conquests now a● conquered;  
For I am forced by Death's assault to yield,  
And Cowardlike to leave thee in the field.  
High to Damascus, where in th'open street,  
In stead of Ensigns rea●e this winding sheet;  
And say, Behold great Saladine's bereavest  
Of all he had, nought but this sheet is left.  
Even he whose Temples, wreaths of Fame adorns,  
Prayed to by Kings, becomes a prey to Worms.  
Is this the end of Great ones? ones I as what then  
Is th'difference 'twixt them and meaner men?  
Little or none, to say I may be bold,  
Since both had their Creation of one mould,  
Both have one form, one feature, yet we see  
In Forms alike, what different honours be.  
So as we cannot well resemble it  
To any one similitude more fit  
Then to some fair Brick-building, where we know  
Some Bricks are placed above, and some below:  
These on the Spires and Turrets, whose high seat  
Imply those men we spoke of, that are Great.  
These on the Ever, or near the Penthouse placed,  
Shadow those Men which live by Time disgrased.  
Yet when this Building shall be pulled down,  
And her aspiring Turrets overthrown;  
Gazing upon those Ruins with our eye,  
We cannot judge which Bricks were low, which high:  
Yea those same Bricks perchance at next remove,  
Which were below, shall then be placed above.  
Others there be, these different states express,  
By a Resemblance to a Game at Chess;  
Where some are Kings, some made to guard on them.  
Some Peers and Bishops, others meaner men;  
Yet shall you hardly know them which is whether,  
When they are put up in a Bag together.  
Some have compared these states unto a Stage,  
Where each have robes that fit their personage:  
Some Princely Monarchs', others Vassals be,  
The Meane-men slaved to Great-man's liberty.  
Yet is their play no sooner ended and done,  
But they're unstript of th'Garments they put on.  
And being disrobed, they are no Princes more,  
But those same persons which they were before.  
Though some I know, that will not with their will  
Put off their Suits, but love to wear them still;  
That they (belike) of people might be known,  
Or rather this, cause they have pawned their own;  
" But there's no hope of such in any age,  
Who make their stew their Tyre-house, street their stage.  
But hear me (starveling) now to thee I come,  
That beg'st all day, yet hardly gets a crumb,  
How ere thou seem afflicted and forlorn,  
" Thou livest not half so poor, as thou was borne,  
Now thou hast rags, though mean God-wot they be,  
But at thy Birth th'hadst nought to cover thee:  
Then, if thou hadst want succour and relief,  
Thou had no tongue to manifest thy grief,  
But now thou hast a tongue, and though none hear thee  
" Yet there is one above that will be near thee:  
And can avenge thee, for it's he that hears  
Thy ruthful cries, and bottles up thy tears.  
Besides I see th'advantage thou may have  
o'er Richer men, in going to thy Grave:  
For well I know, when they approach their end,  
They must take leave of kinsman and of friend;  
Which puling come with finger in the eye,  
And makes them far unwillinger to die.  
Whiles thou in Death feels sovereign remedy  
To all thy Griefs, and through thy Poverty,  
Importunes Death when she doth seem to stay,  
And coming meets him, better half the way:  
For now at last thou thinks the Time is come  
Wherein thou may'st be equal unto some  
That here despised thee; and indeed thou may  
" For thou hast less to answer for, than they.  
Be this thy Recluse then, and here repose  
Thyself a while to descant of thy woes,  
And tell me when th'haste read this Poaeme over,  
If thou find not more solace than before.  
FINIS.   

Of justice..  
NOw unto thee who like the Evening star,  
Sends forth the rays of native glory far;  
Do I address my Muse: o that she might  
Have so much power as to describe thee right!  
This is a virtue that doth comprehend  
All virtues in her, and indeed's the end  
Whereat all good men aim, wherein they trust,  
For him we count a perfect man that's Iust.  
So that of all those Virtues which we call  
(For their transcendent Natures) Cardinal,  
Then this same Virtue ampler there is none,  
Including one in all, and all in one,  
But first, that I may make her better known.  
I will describe her Mansion and her Throne,  
What she admires, who her attendance be,  
Which shown, her worth the sooner you may see▪  
First, for her Throne it's neither high nor low,  
But in an Equal or a middle row.  
For high she will not by no means abide,  
Lest by her height she should be taxed of pride;  
Nor so dejected, as her humble seat,  
Might cause contempt of justice to the Great.  
Therefore as she's of Virtue's sovereign Queen,  
She sits enthroned in a Golden mean.  
Those she admires be no Magnificoes,  
No Fliers, no Flirt's, nor no Ardelioes',  
No sly Informers that insinuates,  
No sharking Lawyers, shifting Advocates;  
No bribed Attorneys that take double fees:  
No, she's too good to brook the best of these.  
But rather such as Students are in Laws,  
To heart their Clients in a righteous cause,  
Such as when they before her Throne appear,  
Neither are bribed with gold, nor curbed with fear;  
These be her Darlings, these will she desire  
To consort with, these only she'll admire.  
Those which attend her are deserving men,  
And will do justice, right, in spite of them  
That dare oppose her, for withouten these  
We should see justice often on her knees,  
Since justice though she speak with resolution,  
Her speech is vain, not put in Execution:  
But when her followers ready are at hand,  
To put in Execution her command,  
Then justice bears a far more gracious show,  
For what she wills, they willing are to do.  
Of all the Acts which King Cambyses did,  
There was no one that better merited;  
Then when he (for abuse of justice) made  
The skin of judge Sysambris to be flayed,  
And to deter all others from like wrong  
Caused it near the judgement-seate be hung.  
So pure's the Throne of justice, and her eye  
So piercing, as there's no obliquity,  
How small so ere, which seems to daze her light,  
But quickly 'tis discerned by her sight.  
Her eyes be ever open, for she knows  
That there be many which to th' world shows  
No less than Saints, yet being tried they're nothing,  
Yea worse than so, they're wolves in a sheep's clothing.  
Well may we think then, justice had not need  
To sleep, when Foxes amongst her Lambkin's feed.  
And subtle Sconces shrouded oft we see  
Under pretences of simplicity.  
But to the end I rightly may define  
Th' professor of a Virtue so divine,  
Methinks he should be one that knowledge had,  
And awful power to terrify the bad;  
A grave aspect, mixed with austerity,  
Which should be tempered so with lenity  
That in them both he might be understood,  
A scourge to th' ill, a chearer of the good.  
Nor is he bound to th' Letter of the Law,  
For-Summum ius, Summ' est iniuria.  
But with a modest exposition may  
Sweeten his censure, and the sense allay.  
Nor should he (as that judge we read of) be,  
Who heard the Widow not for equity  
But for she was still knocking at his gate,  
And in her suit was so importunate  
As he was forced by her entreaties than,  
To do her right, yet feared not God nor man.  
But such an one, as in his Maker's sight  
Desires to do to every one what's right,  
And with even Balance weighs the poorest that are  
As well as those men that be Richer far;  
Deserves to be professor in this time  
Of such a virtue, noble, and divine.  
For if there were respect of persons had,  
Much do I fear there's many would be bad,  
Who now restrained are and kept in awe,  
" Not so much for their God, as for the Law.  
" For wicked men if ere they find restraint  
" Of working ill, it's fear of punishment.  
But stay, me thinks I hear a Supplicant,  
Whose cause is good, yet for he is in want,  
His fee-lesse Lawyers never are prepared  
To open his case, and so he's never heard.  
True there be such, but why doth justice sit,  
But to reform such grievances as it?  
Is his cause good? the first in plea is his,  
And though he come in Forma Pauperis;  
Though some for Dives plead, some shall not choose  
But shall be forced to plead for Lazarus.  
It's true there shall: but it's so slightly done,  
As th' poor man's case being opened, he is gone,  
Th' Lawer I mean, for long he will not stay  
To plead his cause that has no fees to pay;  
Or if he plead he doth so post it over  
As having done, he does respect no more,  
Whether his threadbare Client loose or win,  
Then th' Libertine to act a sensual sin.  
But in this place now when I come so near,  
I will insert a story I did hear;  
Which being related, though not half so well  
As it was told, may please the Client well.  
In that last Age when Rome began to decline  
From her first height, and that there was a time  
For vicious men to follow their own will,  
Where none were great but such as would be ill.  
That Hydra- headed Snake the Multitude,  
In public Court unto the Synod sued,  
That such corruptions as by Law were bred  
Might by their Censures now be punished:  
The discreet Senate joath for to offend  
Such factious Members, did attention lend  
Unto their suit, and granted them free use  
To apprehend such as did Law abuse:  
Which being done, their rage brooked no denial,  
But brought these corrupt Lawyers to their trial:  
Where such as were found guilty, and had done  
Such odious crimes, as made poormen undone  
Were liable to th' Censure of the Court,  
Which (as I read) proceeded in this sort.  
Gracchus hold up thy hand, here art thou tried  
And guilty found (which cannot be denied)  
Of many fowl abuses, such as these,  
Brocage in suits, Demurrers, double fees,  
Corruption, Subornation, nay, what's worse  
To leave the Devil in thy Client's purse,  
Dancing and capering, for the which and more  
By thee in like sort acted heretofore:  
Hear what the censure of the Court has done  
To thee, that hast so many overthrown;  
Thou and Catastes thy false Scriviner  
Shall in the public Marketplace appear,  
Where for example to Posterity,  
You both shall stand upon the Pillory.  
Where on your backs shall be endorsed these  
Three words,- Pro Euertendo Pauperes.  
Which done, that jove may grant you absolution,  
You shall be forced to make a restitution,  
For every bribe, shift, trick, device, or cheat,  
Bill, Bond, Release, Indenture counterfeit,  
Done, to be done, or caused to be done  
By you, or yours, for friend, foe, father, son:  
Which penance passed for Errors heretofore,  
The Court awards you ne'er to practise more,  
This judgement after past on two or three,  
But still the people prone to mutiny;  
Haled out more, nor would they be restrained  
Till all their Lawyers were (well near) arraigned:  
Good God how many different minds were then,  
Where there were far more censures than were men!  
For Faction (is so strange a Natured Elf)  
As it agrees but seldom with itself.  
Some cried let's whip them, others cried far louder,  
Let's burn these Vipers of our Realm to powder:  
Others disliked of that, and thought not fit,  
Lest as the Phaenyx doth a Phaenyx get  
By her own Ashes; or as we do read,  
The Beetles ordure doth the Beetle breed;  
So the Ashes of these Lawyers (which were pity)  
Might raise a damp to poison all the City.  
For if they living such corruption breed,  
How corrupt will they be when they are dead?  
While they were scaning thus, one amongst th' rest,  
Starting upright, said, he did think it best,  
Since that their Crimes extended but to state  
Not life, their Substance should be confiscate;  
But how, quoth one? Unto the Treasury;  
No (quoth another) to the Commonalty:  
Since well I know (and manifest it is)  
The Commons purses paid well for this.  
Debating thus, one of the Graver sort  
Of Law-professours stood up in the Court,  
And after due obeisance (as was fit)  
To such high Peers as did in Council sit,  
He thus began: You Conscript Fathers, you  
That sit in judgement to give each their due.  
Thus far have heard, what we could speak, what they,  
Now will it please you hear what I can say;  
Divers be th' Censures which be given on us,  
And rightly too, for great is our abuse,  
Yet well your Honours know no fault's so great  
Which easy Glosses may not mitigate;  
Yea, it is known, some Natures be so bend,  
Kindness doth more with them then punishment.  
For such to lenity will oft submit,  
When rougher terms can never manage it.  
Know then Grave Senators we do allot  
An ample portion of all we have got  
By fraud, collusion, or by any way  
To special uses, but not such as they  
Seem to enjoin us: (no my Lords) it's fit  
That we, who have increased our state by wit,  
Advice, wise providence, and policy,  
Should not have such fond Carvers as these be  
To share our Fortunes, for it may be known,  
They'll ill keep ours, that could not save their own.  
Fond Carvers (quoth the Rabble)? Yes, said he;  
With that through the Court, there rose a mutiny;  
But being represd, he took the better heed  
To move the Rout: and thus he did proceed.  
We are content (therefore) to give to th' use  
Since we to give can neither will nor choose)  
Of such as be deprived of Native sense,  
Reason and Government a competence  
For to relieve them, and that therewithal  
There may provided be an Hospital  
Or house for their abode, we do agree  
A Bed-Iem house b'erected speedily.  
This is our will, and we do freely give it,  
By th' mad we got it, and to th' mad we leave it.  
This was no sooner by the Lawyer said,  
Then all approved it, and were well apaid;  
Where th' Monster-headed Vulgar opeed her jaws  
And did confirm this doom with one applause.  
This good they did that ne'er did good before,  
Nor as its like, will ere do any more.  
But this's a Tale which I have heard with more,  
And I would have it to be taken so:  
For all of no Profession's good we see,  
Nor all of Lawyers, nor shall ever be:  
Yet if ere justice shined, may she shine here,  
And make our albion her Hemyspheere.  
That as we have a Steward of our own,  
Who justly weld's and beareth up her Crown;  
So we may have Dispensers' under him,  
Who through their justice may discomfit sin.  
FINIS.   

Of Injustice.  
NOw unto thee, to speak I must be bold,  
Who sets the Throne of justice to be sold,  
Who to the Orphans cry, and Widows tear,  
Void of remorse of Conscience, stops thine ear;  
Who shines in purple, and in it dost show,  
far worse than that, a Purple Conscience too:  
Thou that dost veil to Great ones and dost seek  
To gratify their Lordships, I must speak,  
For if I should be silent, wished, or dumb,  
The stones i'th' streets I know would have a tongue.  
Thou crams thy Coffers with a suits delay,  
And like an Epicure from day to day  
Feeds on delicious cates, which thou dost carne  
To fill thy Maw, while th' poor for justice starve.  
Thou Philip- like sleeps, when th' widow cries  
For justice at thy hands, and rubb'st thine eyes,  
And rashly dost pronounce ere well prepared,  
Thy judgement in that cause thou never heard:  
" For which the Widow her appeal doth make  
From Philip sleeping, to Philip awake.  
Thou Laetharge, thou that for promotion sake,  
Contemns thy soul, ruins that sovereign state,  
Which gives us perfect Essence, thou that sleeps  
When poor men's causes come to plea, but keeps  
Thine eyes, thine ears, and every faculty,  
That thou in them might Rich-men gratify.  
For well thou knowst that wretches of this sort,  
Either have done, or will anoint thee for't.  
And yet thou snorts on still, making that Th●one  
Where justice used to sit, a place unknown  
To any that professeth her, whose sight  
Eclipsed is, when right's put down by might;  
And lo, how right's suppressed by thee proud whore,  
That makest the rich to triumph over the poor.  
Thou that contemns the weak and desolate,  
Making them call for vengeance at thy gate:  
Thou that hoards ire against the day of ire,  
And shalt sustain that soul consuming fire,  
Endless in her consumption: it is thou  
Which ruins ample Provinces, where grew  
Trophies of honour once, but through thy shame,  
Have lost their greatness, honour, worth, and fame.  
For whence is th' Proverb spoke so commonly,  
" Justice's a Relic of Idolatry:  
But as in ancient time when Idols were  
So much adored and reverenced every where;  
And Oracles, predictions of each state,  
Told foolish people what should be their fate;  
These Pagan Gods (or Devils) would not tell  
Ought good to them, that did not please them well,  
No more will justice (or Injustice rather)  
(For this by times observance may gather)  
Approve of any cause, how firm or just  
So ere it be, till she be bribed first.  
Or this same Proverb may produce good sense,  
If it be not misconstrued from hence;  
As simple men thought none could happy be,  
But such as reuereneed their Idolatry;  
Offering their jewels, ornaments, and store,  
To make their Idols rich, themselves as poor:  
Supposing them thrice blessed, that could come  
To hear good tidings from Apollo's tongue;  
Whereas in deed if they the truth could seek,  
It was their Gifts which made Apollo speak.  
So may we see men labour to this end,  
To get, Sir Reverence, justice, for their friend,  
Which when they have attained, they set no more  
By all those doubts which they were in before,  
Then doth the Sea-bit Mariner esteem,  
When he ' saland, those dangers he hath seen,  
For why he knows, he has a Patron got,  
Who what his cause is, greatly standeth not;  
For well he sees the Law is in his will,  
To make the ill seem good, the good seem ill.  
These be those Spiders that obscure the shine  
of justice, which 's depraved through the time  
Wherein they live, while Cripple justice halts,  
Entituling th' Servant to the Master's faults,  
For it's not th' fault of justice, but of Time,  
To tax the Servant for the Master's crime.  
But from Injustice now must I descend,  
To others Subjects, wishing that an end  
Of their depraved Reign may soon appear,  
Who stain with purple sins the Robes they wear;  
Thus from thy foul infection I'll remove me,  
Meaning to leave thee, since I cannot love thee.  
FINIS.   

Of Fate.  
FAte, saith the Ethnic, is a firm decree,  
Which, though foreseen, may not prevented be  
Whereby (poor snakes) by purblind fate they're se  
Like Bedlam fools, to dance in Errors net.  
Others have grounded this opinion too,  
Which some approve, and others disallow,  
That in this vale of anguish, every Man  
Hath some one Angel for his Guardian;  
And that our Fortune good or bad shall be  
As those same Angels keep us company;  
If Good-ones be our Guardians, O then  
By their attendance we are happy men:  
If Evil, ruin shall attend our State,  
So by these two we may collect our Fate;  
And from that God to whom all Angels sing,  
These Angels have their power, as from their king:  
For th' good do nought unless he perfect it,  
Nor ought the ill, unless he them permit.  
But late Divines seem to expound this place,  
That this same Angel is the saving Grace,  
Which doth assist such as in Faith do call,  
And leaveth others to themselves to fall  
By his just judgement, who in's Palm contains  
This globe of Earth, and tries the hearts and reins:  
Amongst other Passengers were ferried over,  
Chanced to resort a Pedlar and a Drover,  
Both at one time; the Drover he did bring  
Sheep to the Fair, which he was carrying,  
Of Ewes good store (right Butcher-ware) there came  
And amongst the rest a bonny butting Ram,  
Whose awful front the rest securely kept,  
And all this while the Cup-shot Pedlar slept.  
With many a nod drawn from his drowsy brain,  
Which th' Ram observes, and butts at him again;  
The Pedlar now, ●eeling belike some smart,  
With such like words as these began to thwart  
The careless Ram, Sir I am at a word,  
Butt you at me, I'll butt you overboard.  
And not one word the Pedlar could speak more,  
Till he began to nod just as before;  
Where with th' in censed Ram thinking he meant  
To push at him, so fierce a stroke him lent  
As his distempered Noddle seemed dismayed,  
With violent assault his horns had made:  
Yet part through grief and anguish which he felt,  
He now resolved to wash the Rams white pelt,  
Which he performed, his fury to discover,  
And roundly takes the Ram and throws him over;  
The loving Ewes seeing their Sweetheart swim,  
Resolved with one consent to follow him;  
Which th' Lawyer in his plead noting than,  
" Brother (quoth he) this was a lusty Ram,  
For much I doubt whether our wives or no,  
If we should be thus used would follow so.  
But to be brief, not any one was found,  
Of all the Drovers flock, which was not drowned,  
So as a Suite's commenced betwixt these twain,  
Wherein the Plaintiff seemeth to complain,  
And by petition humbly doth crave  
That for his loss he some relief may have;  
Which how it was determined by the Laws,  
Being (me thinks) a Presidentall cause,  
I will not now insist on, but discuss  
What Fate decreed herein, and briefly thus.  
When th' Pedlar met the Drover, his intent  
Concurred not, questionless, with this event,  
Nor meant he any harm unto his sheep,  
When he exempt from care fell fast a sleep;  
Nor gave he the occasion, but the Ram,  
Who with his furious force awaked the man,  
Nor was he to be blamed when he did aim  
To take Revenge, The worm will turn again.  
Where was the fault then? you will say in Fate;  
No, not in her but in the Pedlar's pate:  
Or to ascribe more properly the fault  
Nor Fate nor Pate were cause of this but Malt.  
One other instance I will here produce,  
Which I by way of Supposition use,  
A form which I approve so much the rather,  
'Cause from Supposes none offence can gather.  
A friend invites another to his house.  
Whose presence after grows injurious  
Unto his Reputation, for he grows  
More inward with his wife then each man knowe●  
And this continues, yet who can descry  
The sly effects of Lover's privacy,  
Observing such a watch, as neither wit,  
Art, or Suspicion may discover it.  
Now unto whom should we impute the blame,  
To him that caused him come, or him that came,  
〈◊〉 unto Fate, since he by accident  
Unto the house as one invited went?  
If we should skan whence th' first effect did spring,  
We properly may lay the fault on him  
Who through the too much confidence he had,  
Gave way unto his wife, and made her bad,  
So as my judgement is, the case so stands,  
As he may take his horns in his own hands;  
For ne'er had he run on Dishonours shelf,  
Or gained him infamy, but through himself.  
Or else we may ascribeed to Woman's will,  
Which hath a Native proneness unto ill;  
So as what will be will be, and what man  
May force a woman do more than she can?  
And my opinion this, it is no boot  
To curb a Wench, that is inclinded unto't,  
For be she in restraint or liberty,  
Her eye still waits for opportunity;  
Which got, she's so resolved as she will venture  
To taste delight should thousand eyes prevent her.  
Yea, on my conscience, though I ne'er have tried it,  
I durst protest the more they are denied it,  
The liker are they when fit time they find,  
To serve their jealous husbands in their kind:  
For though we force them ever to obey,  
And to make sure work, use both Lock and Key,  
Italian-like, yet when the time shall come,  
Be sure we may that they will hit us home;  
For this my firm Position still shall be,  
" Horns can we not prevent, though we foresee.  
But all too long our Pen seems to dilate,  
Upon this purblind Goddess, Pangan 
* Nisi cor tuum esset fatuum, non crederes Fatum: Aug.  Fate:  
If we do good, as few are our good deeds,  
Let us conclude that good from God proceeds:  
If ill, as many ills do we commit,  
Upon ourselves let's lay the cause of it;  
So like true Christians we will ever hate,  
To take from God that we may add to Fate.  
" Thus Fate's a Panim Idol; only He  
" Disposeth us, by whom we only be.  
FINIS.   

Of Death.  
DEath is a passage, and if understood,  
A grateful messenger unto the good,  
By which they pass from this same house of clay  
To Zion's Court, where they shall live for aye.  
Why should Death then a terror be, since it  
Is made the Means, by which we freedom get?  
Here are we Pilgrims, and though store I have,  
Yet for all this I am but Fortune's slave;  
Subject to every hazard, and am fain  
To keep with care, what I have got with pain.  
Yea, tell me thou that in all honour lives,  
And wantest nothing, hadst thou never grieves  
To discontent thee? Or if thou were't free  
From discontents; did ne'er mortality  
Urge thee to Dissolution? Thou wilt say,  
Thou hadst in deed, but soon they went away;  
And gone, thou hast forgot those griefs as clean  
As if thou ne'er had felt, what they had been.  
Unhappy wretch, this is thy toomuch pride  
To vaunt of those, should make thee mortified,  
For griefs be Passions, which may caution thee,  
To think thou art not where thou ought'st to be;  
Which thou may hence collect: A traveller  
Having through many a desert wandered far,  
And now returning home, he is at rest  
From th' care with which he was before oppressed.  
But thou wilt say: thou once was of that mind,  
When thou had no estate to leave behind,  
When thy attendance was of reckoning small,  
Thy fare but mean, thy honour none at all:  
When thou in th' eye of worldly men did seem  
Of that contempt as if thou hadst not been;  
But now the case is altered, and dost hate  
To think on death, since thou hast raised thy state.  
What argument this is, thou straight shall see,  
Scanning those things which seem to hinder thee.  
Me thinks a Pilgrim far from his abode,  
And in his travail pressed with a load,  
Should much desire (having been wearied  
With that he bore) to be disburdened:  
And so should thou, if thou couldst feel thyself,  
Desire to be disburdened of thy pelf,  
Which as a load, to many men is given,  
And makes the way seem tedious towards heaven.  
Yea, sure I am, there is no man draws breath,  
If he have hope in aftertime, but death  
Will seem as pleasant, and as well accepted,  
As if he had obtained what he expected.  
For well he see's, his Labours have an end,  
His foes are quelled, and he shall have a friend,  
Which will receive him, where such joys appear,  
As far surpass these comforts he had here.  
It's true indeed, that many are dismayed,  
When they do see death on a wall portrayed,  
They like not his proportion, for he breeds  
Divers distractions in their troubled heads:  
Whence is't we see so many souls depart  
With eyes dejected, and with heavy heart.  
For why, Distrust they have ere to entreat  
Pardon of God. because their sin's's so great.  
Wretched these, in that they entertain,  
That hideous sin hatched first by odious Cain,  
Crying with him, and with him I must leave them,  
" So great's our sins, the Lord can ne'er forgive them.  
More could I speak, for subject had I more,  
But some perchance will say I spoke before  
Of Death in Fate, but these as seems to me,  
Should not confounded but distinguished ' be;  
" For this 'twixt Fate and Death's the difference,  
" Fate doth ordain, Death is the ordinance.  
FINIS.    

TO HIM WHOM TRUE MERIT HATH ENNOBLED; THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JOHN EARL OF BRIDGE WATER, VISCOUNT Brackley, the accomplishment of his selectedst wishes.  
Hatched in the nest of Honour, you are blest,  
In having virtues to support your nest▪  
For though you're graced by birth, and great by Blood,  
I more admire this Title, you are good.  
For this (as it true greatness doth express)  
Shall Crown your Honour with all Happiness.)  
But native virtue needs no Artful Bays;  
" Virtue she her prize, herself her praise.  
Your HONOURS humbly devoted; RICH: BRATHWAYTE.   

THE AUTHOR CONTINVES HIS FORMER DISCOURSE, Anatomising Man more fully in these four Subjects. 

1. Preparation.  
2. Security.  
3. Courtship.  
4. Hospitality.    

Of Preparation. Qui se minus parat, periet.  
WEll was it spoken by the Orator,  
That in each work we should prepare before  
We did attempt, lest too much rashness breed  
A strange event, for want of good ●ake heed.  
It's true indeed, for if we should dilate  
On every Fortune, rank, degree, and state,  
We should find out by due experience,  
Nought fits success so well as Providence.  
For as in Armies, Chieftains do prepare,  
To rank their Soldiers, and have special care  
That every Troop be rightly ordered,  
To th' end their Hopes may be accomplished.  
Or as in Builders, ere they will assay  
To rear the walls, they first will make a way  
For the foundation, that the groundwork laid,  
What they intent may better be assayed.  
Or as in Ploughmen, let this instance be,  
Though last, yet first for their antiquity;  
First till the ground, as they do think it need,  
Before they sow in it their hopeful seed;  
So should each man before he do depart,  
Till and manure the furrows of his heart,  
That th' Earthly seed of his corruption may  
Put incorruption on another day.  
And like that holy Father; whom we read,  
That sleeping, waking or what ere he did,  
He heard this Summons sounding in his ear,  
" Ariseye Dead to judgement come appear.  
Or that Denout and Blessed Anachorite,  
Who thought himself still in his Saviour's sight;  
And therefore feared to act aught that was ill,  
Seeing his judge was present with him still.  
But alas how few now in the world be,  
That think the Lord their secret sins can see,  
Whilst working what is ill, they think't no shame  
To violate the glorious style or name  
Of their profession, (and it seems no less)  
By seeming goodness, seeming holiness.  
" Many we have can till the fruitful ground,  
" But for mind-tillage few or none are found.  
How foolish, and how careless then are we,  
To spoil our souls for want of husbandry?  
I know not how some others think of it,  
But sure to me, it were a matter fit,  
That we should make our preparation here,  
Now whilst we live, lest when we shall appear  
Before that Throne (as we of force must come)  
Hearing our crimes, we stand (as men are dumb)  
Nothing to speak, whence shall ensue our hire,  
Depart ye hence into eternal fire.  
Many there be, preparing still we see,  
To raise a state to their Posterity;  
Which with as prodigal a hand is spent,  
(For many times they know not how it went)  
As ere their Dunghill Fathers scraped it,  
" For what's ill got should go as ill, it's fit.  
Others there be to gain their pleasures, will  
Prepare themselves 't attempt the worst of ill,  
No work's too great, no instrument too fowl,  
(Though't raze their name, & damn their precious soul,)  
Is vn-affa●'d, till they their pleasure get,  
Which once obtained, Repentance ushers it.  
Others, for Honours, with ambitious wings,  
Soare to the Crowns, and Diadems of Kings:  
These will prepare their Engines to attain,  
What they expect, and what they make their aim  
Must be achieved: there is no other way,  
Hence is't they care by night, and cark by day.  
And yet behold what fruit Ambition gives,  
Her care's her curse, herself of life deprives;  
" For of all others, seldom seen I have,  
" Ambition go gray-headed to her grave.  
Others I see, which I am loath to see,  
For it includeth Albyons' misery:  
Prepare themselves, not as those Virgins did,  
To have their Lamps with oil replenished:  
But with adulterate Beauties, to ensnare  
Our youngling Gallants, and with braided hair  
In Azur'd breasts laid open, painted cheek,  
Lose wand'ring eyes, their lustful objects seek,  
Which sought & found, that object which they spi●,  
Makes seeming fancy sparkle in their eye.  
These with as varied forms (as we do read  
Proteus ere had) change their fantastic weed  
From day to day (o Heaven suppress this sin)  
For blessed were we, if it had never been.  
But yet, for all this garish Vanity,  
Read but a Lecture of Mortality  
To these She-Sainted Idols, you shall find,  
Some small impressions of a Virtuous mind;  
As such as have their eyes upon the Book  
Of sacred Writ, yet how ere they look  
Upon the Text, the Preacher's busied in,  
This Text's a Pretext, but to hide their sin:  
" For how so ere their eyes may seem to stay,  
" Fixed on the Text, their heart's another way.  
But know (fair pictures) though with many forms  
You deceive men, you cannot deceive worms.  
Nor will th' account (that great account) you owe,  
For all your trimnes be dispen'st with so.  
Prepare you better Garments than be these,  
For these I think will not your Maker please:  
Making you such strange Monsters, as I doubt  
His doom will be: Away I know you not.  
Some more I see, which full as busy are  
How to sow difference, and therefore care  
Only to gain themselves a fair estate,  
By others wrong, oppression, and debate.  
These too prepare (but not as I could wish)  
Their Nets, that they in others States may fish,  
And slily too, lay their pretended Suits,  
Filling their Clients heads with thousand doubt●▪  
Protesting (God forgive them) it would please  
Them very well, their Client were at peace:  
When privately, with a dissembling heart,  
They vow as much unto the adverse part.  
Yet this's a sin which craves a liberty,  
Because our Laws give it impunity;  
And reason good (so's Conscience tied to pelf)  
As th' best I know, may punished in himself.  
Many more of this sort I know there is,  
Which make their preparation, but amiss;  
Few so exactly do it, as they should,  
Which makes me speak more boldly than I would;  
But he that curbs Me for't, I'll answer him,  
I know not how to blush in taxing sin,  
Nor will I spare him though his spleen should burst,  
" But curse those vices which my God hath cursed.  
Yet with compassion, for I know I am  
Myself that writes, as subject to the same  
As they to whom I write: Yea I do know  
Till I have paid to Nature what I owe,  
There is no fact how great so ere it be  
Committed by one, but may be done by me,  
If he who in the heavens hath sovereigns' place,  
Should not prevent me by his special grace.  
Yet I do wish, and I am sure of this,  
That charity's producer of my wish,  
Each would prepare for one, that when we go  
From this same Vale of tears, and Sea of woe  
To the judicious trial of God's Throne,  
Each might be fit to give account for one.  
So every soul might with affiance say  
Unto her God, in that same dreadful day,  
Thou bad and I obeyed, and being tried,  
Like ●o fine Gold my soul was purified:  
" Thou wiled, I went, thy love was my delight,  
" I sought, thy Grace did crown me in the fight.  
If this indeed were weighed, as it should be,  
Men would depart from hence more willingly;  
Knowing how Death would be a means to give  
Life to our souls, and make us ever live.  
Some have I known, who for the same intent  
Have in their life time reared their Monument,  
That when so ere they looked upon their Tomb,  
They might conceive what would of them become.  
Which Sheb●a did, (as we in Scripture read)  
Who built his Tomb before that he was dead;  
And this proceeds from doubt in many one,  
Of th' heirs neglect when that the Father's gone;  
But see what Fate poor Shebna had, for he  
Having prepared a Tomb so gorgeously,  
As Art and Nature could not both invent  
A more exact or curious Monument,  
Enforced was (vain man) through times disgrace,  
To take his Burial in another place.  
This speak I not for to deter such men,  
(Sith such praiseworthy rites I honour them)  
From their Endeavours, as desire to have  
Themselves and theirs successors in one grave:  
For, it's a custom which may seem to be,  
Authorised by divine authority;  
Sith ancient Patriarches, and those which came  
From jacob, Isaac, and Abraham,  
Were (as in sacred Writ is oft times red)  
With their deceased Fathers buried.  
Yea, there is nought I of my friends do crave  
More, then to lie within my Father's grave:  
That whom I living loved, taking my breath  
From him, I may renew my love in death.  
But herein I do tax their vanity,  
Who do prepare them Tombs where they may lie  
In State like Princes, and do glory in  
Those monumental covers of their sin;  
Yet are respectless where their souls shall dwell,  
This Preparation doth not like me well.  
For it's preposterous, this cover should,  
(Being composed of nothing else then mould)  
Have such exceeding honours to attend it,  
While th' Soul has not one virtue to defend it.  
Pure is the Body's shrine, but filthy foul  
Is that same shroud, which doth enfold the soul.  
This is the cause that makes me to deplore  
These times so ill, that were so good before:  
Where virtue reigned, and as a sovereigness,  
Made the Soul glory in her happiness.  
Where pure Devotion, as an heavenly light,  
Directed man to do those things were right:  
Where th' soul was precious held, and whose chief care  
Was against the day of Vengeance to prepare.  
Least unprepared to answer for their sin,  
They knock at gate, but may not be let in.  
Well did that holy Father think of this,  
(Which to observe each of us I could wish)  
Who every night before he went to bed,  
To make this due account was ' customed,  
Go to my Soul, use not a slight delay,  
But answer me, What hast thou done to day?  
What hast committed of those works are ill,  
Or what omitted that thou shouldst fulfil?  
Whom hast thou wronged, whom hast thou injured,  
Where be those hungry, which thou shuld'st have fed?  
Whom hast oppressed? whence comes the orphans tere,  
The Widows prayer? Soul, I must judge thee here,  
Lest by deferring judgement to the last,  
I pay more dear, for th' Actions which be last.  
Thrice happy soul, that is so well provided,  
Before his soul from body be divided:  
With cheerful spirit may he hence depart,  
With eyes erected, and with light some heart:  
With soule-renewing comforts, and with peace,  
With hope, with health, with Saints complete increase;  
With zeal, with joy, with hope of liberty,  
To rest in him who ends our misery.  
O may we so live in united love,  
That one's example may another move;  
So by Examples we at last shall come,  
With joy and triumph to the marriage-roome.  
FINIS.   

Of Security. Si securus, ures.  
NO vice I think, that ever was, or is,  
End●gers th' soul of man, so much as this.  
Which that I may define, it seems to be  
The sleep of sin, or the soul's Lethargy,  
Sencel●e●●e, and careless of what ere befall,  
Secure then, when she should most of all  
Stand on her guard, nor is she 'fraid a whit  
Of any harm, till she encounter it.  
This Vice consorts with such as love to feed,  
And cram themselves: where she doth use to breed  
These perturbations in the mind of Man,  
Whence th' Source of our Corruption first began.  
Lust, riot, sloth, contempt of Godliness,  
Pride, dissolution, and forgetfulness  
Of what we are, exposing (O most fowl)  
The glorious substance of an heavenly soul,  
Unto the basest servitude, that is,  
To wit, th' delights of Earthly vanities.  
Yea, I may say there is no Vice at all  
That makes th' Souls motion so unnatural  
Unto herself, as doth Security:  
Since th' Soul, which should in action ever be,  
Becomes by her, slothful, remiss, and dull,  
Pressed by a Belly that is ever full.  
Many we have that labour of this vice,  
Yea, of this sin our Great-men have a spice;  
Who with the Richman fare deliciously,  
Are clad in purple, and neglectfully  
Look on the poor, while lulled in sin's lap,  
They never mind what afterward may hap:  
These give no ear unto the piteous moans,  
Nor doleful shriek of distressed ones;  
These are secure of their poor Brothers grieves,  
" For they have some sow pillows to their sleeves.  
Even Prelates which should pierce the ears of Kings  
But they do worse in speaking pleasant things;  
For well they find more profit to be got  
By smeering vice, as if they knew it not,  
Then by displaying vices that are bred,  
For this hath caused some to be silenced.  
O age! When men that are the mouths of God,  
And should not spare to shake the fearful rod  
Of his displeasure, will for some light matter,  
Revolt from God, and be induced to flatter:  
But of all other, there's none so secure,  
Or prone unto it, as the Epicure.  
For we may hear him ever bend to cry  
Let's eat and drink, to morrow we shall die.  
A strange persuasion, and an Argument  
As't seems to me, from Reason different,  
That shortness of our Time should makes forget  
Ourselves so much, as to be given to eat  
When we should die: if this approved might be,  
" There were some cause of man's Security.  
When after Death, and that our Time is gone,  
There were no farther matter to be done.  
But there is something in us, that doth show,  
And tell us plain, our End must not be so,  
Which may be proved by our Experience,  
If we have felt the sting of Conscience.  
●ra, what soe'er our Atheist object,  
●gainst that high and supreme Archi-tect,  
●hough now he feel it not, he must confess,  
●nd that with Gall of inward bitterness,  
●here is a power (and that a divine power)  
Who will avenge him of the wicked doer.  
●ut some I hear to argue in this sort,  
And with my soul I am much sorry for't:)  
This day we may enjoy our pleasures; true  
●●And than you'll, what, begin next day anew  
To use those pleasures which you did before,  
And so from day to day treasure up store  
Of Vengeance; O how fearful is this path,  
To trace you on unto the day of wrath?  
Hence you presume of God: but do not think,  
" That God doth sleep, though he may seem to wink.  
For like as in th' old World we do read,  
When they had sported, feasted, married,  
And now became as those that careless were,  
Through riot, and excessive belly-cheer:  
The Flood came on them, so as we may see,  
They were cut off in their Security:  
Even so may you, that seem to make delay  
Of your Conversion thus, from day to day,  
Be taken napping in your height of sin,  
How fearful then's the case that you are in?  
I know delight in Sin, doth Custom bring,  
And Custom to Securitie's the Spring  
Which makes us hardened (adding to Sin's store)  
Which more in number, seem less than before.  
But that we may, against this Hydra fight,  
‛ First head we cut off must be sins Delight,  
Which when we have lopped off, we may begin  
To take away the Custom of this sin.  
And so through want of Custom, we may free  
Ourselves in time of this Security  
O that we would consider but our days,  
How short they are, and with how many ways  
We are enclosed with Foes on every side,  
With inward motions, as with lust and pride:  
With outward motions, as with baits of sin,  
Where every Sense doth let a Traitor in.  
O than we would be wise, and stand in doubt,  
Lest these foes should get in, that now are out.  
Nor can we be too wary of our foes,  
Since we are pestered with some of those  
Which are within our Bosom nourished,  
And as our lifes more dear tendered:  
These be our household friends, which sting to death,  
Depriving them of life, which gave them breath.  
" And of all others none annoy men so,  
" As doth a private or domestic foe.  
For he by subtle unsuspected guile,  
(Pretending nought but amity the while)  
Enters the Fort (and like a cunning Elf)  
Becomes a very Traitor to himself.  
Yet so, as when his practices have end,  
This seeming friend, becomes an hellish fiend.  
Yea, we shall find his saying true, who saith,  
Secureness brings Apostasy of Faith,  
Which is approved in many a wretched man,  
As for example in that julian,  
Who through Security despised the rod  
Of justice, and turned Rebel unto God.  
Yea, many such even in this Age we know,  
Who start a side, like to a broken Bow:  
And are forgetful (as before was said)  
For what especial purpose they were made.  
Hence may I justly tax the Libertine,  
Who idly spends the most part of his Time,  
In profanation of the Sabbath day,  
And in the Streets neglectfully doth stay,  
As if there were no Vineyard where he might  
Labour one hour at least, before't be night:  
And yet I do not grieve for them so much,  
As I in due compassion, do for such,  
Who have been idling, both in youth and age,  
And now nereth ' End of their frail Pilgrimage:  
Are now as far from God, when they have done,  
Nay, farther too, then when they first begun.  
O misery I that men who reason have,  
And now through age, have one foot in the grave,  
Should through a wilful blindness, thus bewray  
Such mad green thoughts, now when their heads be grey.  
●e thinks those furrows which be in their face,  
Should as a Mirror tell them here's no place  
Long to dwell in, or if they would but see  
Grey hairs, those Heralds of Mortality,  
Which as predictions, Age is wont to send,  
Me thinks they might remember now their end.  
But this they will not: they'll endure no Glass,  
Lest they should see how soon their time doth pass.  
Sure I do think, what th' Moral said of old,  
Of all that be nought's viler to behold,  
Then such a man, who many years hath spent,  
Yet of his years can show no Argument,  
Save his Gray-hairs: for he doth Nature wrong,  
That shows no fruits how he hath lived long.  
Yea, we should know great difference appears  
'twixt our expense of hours, and of years,  
For many may be aged in the one,  
Who leave no Name behind when they are gone:  
Such is th' Expense of years, but happy they,  
Who by their ●oures do measure out their day;  
For when they die, the virtues of their mind,  
Like a sweet Ointment leave their smell behind.  
Thus much in brief of th' Vice: nowed doth remain  
To speak, where this Security doth reign.  
FINIS.   

Of Courtship. Et tacuisse nocet.  
BEfore I enter this secure repose,  
There comes such store of perfumes to my nose,  
I am ne'er sti●led: but I have a trick,  
By means of Art will touch them to the quick;  
And so disperse these sweetly 
* Aiming only at such, whose sense consists in sent with reservation of his best thoughts to the Noble affected Courtier:  scented men,  
As hardly there will one appear amongst ten,  
And this it is: I'll canvas up their Vices.  
Their brain sick humours, and their strange de●ices;  
Their Courting, Congeing, and their Conjuring,  
Their Culling, Clipping, C●inging, Capering;  
Their garish wears, and apish compliment,  
And so I hope, I shall disperse this sent:  
Which, if my footing were not all more speedy,  
Might have infected well my Brai●e already.  
Rouse then thyself (my Muse) and sprightly on  
Unto these men are made of Cinnamon.  
Which Similee can hardly be denied.  
Their rind being better than all th' bulk beside.  
Me thinks I see a ne● invented State,  
Of four Coach-horses standing at the gate,  
With distinct Furniture accordingly,  
To show his Lordship's honours livery:  
Next this I see two Irish Lackeys stand,  
With either one a horse rod in his hand,  
Where with they oft times make the Beggars feel  
The lash, for following their Lord's Coach wheel.  
Close ●e their Breeches made unto their thighs,  
Guarded like two Pie-collored Butterflies;  
So as to see these jack-a lents come after,  
Would make a man half dead, burst out with laughter.  
There strait I see a Prisoner through a grate,  
Desire their Lord to be compassionate;  
While Court like, he, stops his relentless ear,  
And either cannot hear, or scorns to hear.  
Thus in all State goes this Magnifico,  
With 4 Coach-horse, one Coachman Pages two,  
Which ●euen without him make the Number even  
With Rome's 7 Mounts, for they make likewise seven.  
Then must his Train be great, it cannot choose,  
Being in attendance grown so mountainous:  
But let him pass, this Error is but small,  
To othersome, that I must cope withal.  
Next thing I see, is one that's like a man,  
Yet so disguised, discern him not I can,  
Nor well distinguish him, by outward shape  
From some strange Monkey-faced Arabian Ape.  
Faces he makes of such a several sort,  
I cannot show them▪ to be hanged for't:  
But sure I am (for aught I understand)  
He found not such strange faces in our Land,  
For civil albion is, and cannot brook  
To look, but as her Maker bids her look.  
Yet this same strange proportioned Cavalliere,  
Or new-Italianated Courtier,  
Draws Admiration to him in each place,  
And by disguises gets especial grace▪  
For while he has the garb of foreign Courts,  
And all the morn he spends in distinct sorts  
Of French, Italian, German Compliment,  
Zwelan, Ven●tian, Dutch accoutrement:  
Where he will speak of th' state of every Court,  
Yet knows not but only by report.  
Yet would it do one's heart good to hear,  
His strange discourse, though he was never there.  
Up must his fashions go, which though they seem  
Th' ill favouredst ones, that ever yet were seen.  
They are in most request, and he's an Ass,  
That hates th' fashion, or will let it pass.  
And now, because there cometh to my mind  
An ancient Story, which I chanced to find,  
Amongst other works of serious consequence,  
I mean to write it, as I tookeed from thence.  
The Scythians a people stout and bold,  
Though much annoyed by violence of cold;  
Were ever held (as by their Acts is shown)  
The truest heirs of honour and renown:  
Yet in their height of Triumph and Estate,  
They fell becoming too esseminate.  
For when the prosperous gailes of Victory,  
Had made them proud of their prosperity,  
And good success had so blown up their mind,  
As Fortune like, their Fortune made them blind.  
They strait begun to cast away their Arms,  
As if they were secure of after●harmes;  
And like newfangle Humorists, desire  
To mould themselves into some acquaint attire.  
Which to perform, they presently intent  
Some odd conceited fellow for to send,  
To foreign Coasts, that he thereby might come  
To gain some fashions, and so bring them home.  
Strait one addressed was▪ who forthwith went  
And compassed round the Northern Continent,  
Where though he saw strange fashions, yet was he  
Not so contented but would farther see.  
At last, inclining southward, there he stay de  
Within an Island: and so long survayde  
The Customs, Natures, and the strange attire  
Of th'people there, as he did much admire  
(So sottish was this Scythian Traveller)  
The frantic habit of the Islander.  
Who wore no garment, but from foot to head  
With plumes of Birds used to be feathered,  
So as he seemed (saith Story) in a word,  
In form a man, but clothed like a Bird.  
This when the curious Scythian had seen,  
To travel any farther did not mean;  
But with glad heart determined to return,  
And show his Country th'fashions that were worn.  
Yet thought, ere he his journey would begin,  
To take some of those feathers along with him.  
And therewithal to take advice, had care,  
Of one of th'best experienced Tailors there,  
How to dispose the feathers, as they lay,  
Which having learned, he posted on his way▪  
After long Travail he at last arrived  
In his own Country, which no less revived  
His long-expecting Countrymen, then when  
There comes reprivall to condemned men.  
And as we see Birds flock against ill wether,  
So all in troops they crowded in together.  
Vowing withal, what Country, or what Nation  
So ere it were, they would observe the fashion.  
Forth comes his feathers plucked from Peacocks, Owls,  
Woodcocks, and Pheasants, and all feathered Fowls,  
Directing them how ordered they should be,  
(And that of all the Countries he did see)  
Though many in strange fashions did excel,  
Yet none like this did please him half so well.  
No sooner had the barbarous Multitude,  
Seen these strange nisles, but they forthwith sewed,  
That this might be authorised, through the Court,  
That who so ere (being of the better sort)  
For none save such admitted were to wear  
This Bird like weed, should from that time appear  
In public place, until they had put on  
This newfound Robe, which was agreed upon.  
Then might you see the Garments which of old  
Were Furs of Beasts to keep them from the cold;  
Clear thrown away, and none of rank there were  
But did discard their ancient Country-weare.  
But long they had not used this foreign fashion,  
But each was troubled with a sundry passion:  
One with a Sowing-humour in his head,  
Another was as much distempered  
With colic: he, with shortness of his breath,  
This man through cold had nearly catcht his death,  
For why; this wear fitted not the Scythians,  
But those tan-skinned Aethiopians,  
Whose sulphurous heat might better far allow  
Of such light weeds, than their sharp air could do.  
One of the wisest of this Barbarous crew,  
Now seeing, what was likely to ensue,  
Commanded forthwith (experience makes men witty)  
Certain chief men to fire a part o'th' City:  
Which done, an Vprore presently arose  
Through all the streets, and to the Courtgate goes:  
The chill-cold Courtiers knew not what it meant,  
Yet all amazed thought for to prevent  
This dangerous fire, in haste therefore they came  
Forth of the Court, to quench this threatening flame:  
All feathered as they were: but (see mad Souls)  
The flame catcht hold on these tame-fethred Fowls,  
And th'more they sought by labour to appease it,  
The more they did by their soft Plumes increase it:  
Long had they not about these Fireworks been,  
But there was not a feather to be seen;  
Which cinged and gone, the fire increased no more,  
But was suppressed, that grew so great before.  
After which time no fashions they'd retain,  
But thought it meet to take their own again.  
I might be taxed for a knavish wit,  
If I in brief should seem to moral it.  
And therefore have Resolved to let it pass,  
And be reputed for some Brainsick Ass,  
That spent his oil and labour for delight,  
Then to be forced to answer what I write.  
For other slight abuses in the Court,  
Doubting I might be brought in question for't.  
If I should tax the greatest; I'm prepared,  
Here to deblaze them briefly afterward.  
FINIS.   

Of Hospitality. Non eadem est aetas.  
THou thing out of Request, for unto thee,  
That was an honour to our Ancestry,  
The poor-man's Supportress, Travellers Repose,  
To thee will I my sorrows now disclose;  
For well I know (if any good there be)  
Their very hearts do bleed with grief for thee.  
Where be those many Officers thou had,  
Alas they're discarded and may run stark mad,  
But ne'er be pitied, a flout or mock  
Is their Salute, their stove a whipping stock;  
Their wages lashes, their repast bare Platters,  
Their wine, pure Conduit-Renish, garments, tatters.  
O thou that once (by ●imes eternal Story)  
Was cleped our Lands port, our England's glory:  
Thou that by thy strong family kept out,  
jack Straw, Wat Tylor, and that rabble rout  
Of factious Novalists who sought t'infest,  
By their distempered heads, our Country's rest;  
Thou that suppressed such tumults by thy hand,  
As menaced the quiet of our Land;  
How art thou vanished, or where art become,  
That thou dost keep so seldom times at home?  
Way-faring men, when they but chanced to look,  
Were glad at heart, to see thy Chymneys smoke.  
When now as I and many more suppose,  
Thy Chimney smoke is turned to thy Nose.  
Yea, such as used by thee to take repast,  
May sooner break their neck then break their fast.  
B●t whence proceeds this threatening misery?  
From thee (thou curse of albion) ●surse;  
Soule-ranking Poison, State-devouring sin,  
That makes dice on men's bones, and fleas their skin.  
Thou layest vn●allowed fist on each estate,  
And makes the poor come cursing to thy gate;  
Thou ruins walled towns, and thee't doth please  
To turn great houses into cottages.  
There's none (for thee) can reap content in life  
Not from the Prince unto the Oyster wife.  
It's thou lays hold upon each family,  
Seizing on persons of all qualities.  
For where's the May game, and the Morris dance,  
The ancient Blew-coate, and his cognisance;  
Where's those Black-iacks which used were at first  
For the way-faring man to quench his thirst?  
Vanished, they're vanished: where? to the Court,  
Believe me (poormen) I am sorry for't.  
For pity is it, that a place so great,  
Should (of Relief) our needy people cheat.  
Thus Hospitality is banished clear,  
Betwixt the Court, and th'damned Usurer;  
It's rare to see a man of Worship ride,  
With more than one poor Lackey at his side;  
Or if he have a man or two at most,  
He covenants for fear of too much cost,  
That each of them (so niggardly's the Else)  
Should be at charges to maintain himself.  
And sure me thinks, these Great-men that retire,  
As I may say, unto an other's fire;  
Shutting up house, and all, that who should look  
That way, should scarcely see a Chimney smoke:  
Might become rich: for why, they nought bestow,  
Their means be great, the rate they 〈◊〉 at, low;  
Small's their attendance, slender is their port,  
And shut their Buttery-hatch to bar resort.  
But why should I think so? as they from th'poor  
Hold back their hand, the Lord holds back his store.  
That Widow of Sarepta (as we read)  
Had still her Ark with meal replenished;  
And th'more she gave, she still received the more,  
For God increased her much-decreased store.  
But Naball that rich Churl, who denied  
To give to David, seeming to deride  
This zealous King, with who is David say,  
That I should give my coin and meat away?  
What end had he? He was deprived of all,  
His state, his store, his life, his Abigall.  
And he, whom Naball did deride before,  
Became the sole possessor of his store.  
" For he that living will not th' poor reward,  
" Shall be enforced to give it afterward.  
But unto theo my Muse addresseth first,  
(And heaven forbid I bless what God hath cursed)  
Who dost consume the Sunshine of thy days  
In damned Oppression, and all works delays  
Of Charity, and Alms works till death  
And desolation choke thy corrupt breath.  
Thou Earth-mould thou, who a● it seems to me,  
Hadst thy beginning from that Family  
Of th'Braucadori, which in Florence are,  
Extorting Bankers, and so Named were,  
(Because the Word if rightly understood)  
Signifies scrape Gold (or in brief) scrape-Good.  
It's thou my Muse shall freely reprehend,  
Beginning fresh, when seeming at an end;  
And heaven I wish, that it were put to me,  
What punishment should be inflict on thee.  
For then (be sure) of what degree or sort,  
So ere thou were't, that I would plague thee for't.  
Yea in an ancient Cannon read we shall,  
This rank denied Christian Burial.  
So as their Bones were never to be found,  
Interred in any part of holy Ground.  
And true it is (for th'Reason is allowed)  
That the confused rout and multitude  
Of Lawyers and Physicians, which are bred,  
(Like Horse flies) from a State distempered,  
Are signs of ill-disposed Bodies, sure,  
And long's that State not likely to endure.  
Yea, of these two, I know not whether's worse,  
To purge the body, or to purge the purse:  
Both strange distempers breed: whence it is meant  
A Client is his Lawyer's Patient.  
But th'Number of our grating Usurers,  
Their Factors, and those eare-markt Scriviners;  
While they within our Country are remaining  
Show a disease that's fatal amongst us reigning.  
But hast I must, and pass from Usury,  
The greatest foe to Hospitality:  
And speak a word or two unto the Court,  
Showing those wrongs she doth the poorer sort.  
Thou Princely Seat, whose bounty like a stream  
Should water each dry corner of our Realm;  
Harbour not such, as should themselves express  
By giving harbour to the harbourless.  
Let them not there have any residence,  
But banish them (thou star of honour) thence:  
That in their Country they may once appear.,  
Such good Housekeepers as their Fathers were.  
This done, thou shalt bring glory to thy Court,  
And needful Souls relieved shall bless thee for't.  
FINIS.    

And tell thee too when I had made them known,  
Thy vices were not worthy of a Crown.  
I have no Rhetoric but bluntness I,  
Nor knew I ever how to face a lie;  
As many can, yea, and some great ones too,  
As our Court-Apple-Squires, and fauns can do:  
I do cashier all private Parasites,  
Lad●e-fied Monkeys, lustful Catomytes,  
Painting, and pursting, sleeking of the skin,  
Powdering of hair, to let temptation in;  
Light-fether-dressing, Fardinggalls avaunt,  
That makes a wench backed like an Elephant;  
Open displayed breasts, Sin-tempting eyes,  
Crocodyles tears, and faithless perjuries:  
Vermilion cheeks, bought beauties, I do shun you,  
For I am mad when I do look upon you:  
But first to thee will I address my way,  
Who in a Lovesick passion thus dost say;  
" Love brooks no sharers, I'll not suffer jove  
" To be a Rival in the Wench I love.  
You will not S it; why, what a Woodcock art,  
To think thyself a man of such desert:  
That any Wench will so her love confine,  
To make herself in Essence none but thine?  
Herein thou showest thy own simplicity,  
To think a Woman will imprisoned be;  
Since it is true which hath been oft times said,  
Nor love, nor lust can ere be limited.  
Why, I will tell thee man I had a Wench,  
Some thirteen days ago no longer since, 
Aninstance produced by way of personal allusion.   
And she did vow (as well I know she can)  
Of all she loved I was the only man:  
●f I but frowned, so straitely I did keep  
My Wench in awe, she would begin to weep;  
〈◊〉 I but laughed, it cleared her rainy day,  
She would laugh too, and wipe her tears away;  
In brief what ere I did (so kind was she)  
One note kept Measureed wixt my love and me:  
Yet to their day (I pray thee lovex hear me)  
She that was mine by vow, doth now cashier me,  
Calling me fool that had so little sense,  
To think that she with faith could not dispense;  
Adding withal, that there was nought more common  
Than breach of faith, and promise with a woman.  
Yet know (quoth she) though th'greatest Prince assault,  
" If woman yield it is the woman's fault.  
Thus by experience (Lover) I was crossed,  
Thus did I love, thus was my labour lost.  
If thine be constant, thou hast that reward,  
Which I few lovers ever yet have heard;  
But if she be, of thus much sure I am,  
She is a Milk-white Crow, a coal-black Swan.  
Next unto thee, whose gaudy vanity,  
Makes thee forgetful of mortality;  
Thy glory is not placed in thy mind,  
For who the least of beauty there can find,  
Sith Virtue has no place, which ever gives  
Life to the soul, by which it ever lives;  
But odious vice, which blemisheth the eye  
Of understanding with obscurity;  
Thy glory is in Clothing, yet behold  
What that divinest Solomon hath told;  
Nought is more vain than this? at least thou'lt yield  
In Beauty to the Lilies of the field,  
Which neither spin, nor labour, yet they be  
" Fairer than Solomon in his royalty.  
Yea, this Observance tells me, which by some  
Hath been reputed for an Axiom.  
" The greatest Princes that are clad in Ermine,  
" Take them at best, they are but food for vermin.  
" And why should shapeless forms be so much loathed,  
Since Bodies they are but, as they are clothed?  
This comes not ne'er the Beauty of the soul,  
Since th'fairest Bodies are oft times most fowl  
In th'constitution of the inward man,  
Which is the best of beauty, sure I am.  
Virtue adorns her best, nor can she find  
Any Complexion purer than the mind:  
Here, not improperly may I make use,  
Of th'nuptial song of witty Claudius,  
Which was composed for the marriagebed  
Of good Honorius to Maria wed.  
" Tender Honorius, in the purple room  
" Borne, to his Father's glory now shall come,  
" And give that hope to such as see him reign,  
" As if that Saturn were returned again;  
" For little can Porphyras Palace do,  
" If that with Birth we have not virtues too.  
" He shall conclude my task, no more I'll say,  
" Pleased or displeased, this's my Placentia.  
FINIS.   

A CONCLUSIVE EPIGRAM, ENTITLED The Great-mans' Alphabet.  
Come hither Great-man that triumphs to see,  
So many men of lower rank to thee;  
That swells with honours, and erects thy state,  
As high as if thou were't Earth's Potentate.  
Thou whose aspiring buildings raise thy Name,  
As if thou were't Sole son and heir of fame;  
Thou whose ambition doth on dainties feast,  
Aiming to be some petty King at least;  
Thou whom oppression hath by wrong made great,  
Priding thyself of thy usurped seat;  
Thou that dost think it sign of Noble blood,  
Rather to aim at great then to be good;  
Thou whose demerits, though thou bear a port,  
And canst look big, are but of th'meanest sort.  
Thou whose patched honour, take away thy land  
Will for an Ordinary scarce currant stand;  
Thou whose best qualities derived be,  
Only from thy command, and not from thee:  
Hear me (thou Worlds Atlas) and discern  
What's best of honour, Greatest men may learn.  
I have sought far, and yet I cannot find,  
To what set place their glory stands cozened:  
Who once were famous, and had tongues enough,  
To ring their Noble acts the World throw.  
Methinks that Agamemnon whose renown,  
Even to the ears of sacred Powers did come,  
To make his fame more lasting, should not be  
So soon obscured in his posterity;  
Nor that same Mirror of the Myrmidons,  
Nor brave Thalestris of the Amazons;  
Nor Cretan Minos, Ilus, Atreus,,  
The Persian Cyrus, Trojane Dardanus.  
Yet see, where be these Heroes? Now they seem  
Through times disgrace as if they had not been:  
So short's our memory, that if we have  
Nought to preserve our honour in the grave,  
Save th'tongues of men to blaze what we have done,  
Scarce will our Names be heard in time to come.  
Yet you will say those Monuments we leave,  
Will to our dying Fame true honour give:  
As Marble shrines, statues of ivory,  
Porphyrite Columns graven curiously,  
Arches of lasting metals, these will show  
What we were once: and though men would not know  
Our actious, yet our monuments infuse  
Knowledge in them, they cannot will nor choose.  
Alas how weake's his fame, that does repose  
His confidence in any one of those:  
Soon fading is his Name, and short's his time  
That's shut within circumference of a shrine:  
Yea, frayles his glory fitting with his nature,  
Who hopes to rear his fame by such a matter.  
For where should we find Tombs now overgrown  
With grass and rubbish, yea, where-fields are sown,  
Vineyards are planted, as it may appear,  
It is not known where they interred were?  
Some say the Cave of Minos, King of Crete,  
Who afterward had his judicial seat  
In Hell, as Sovereign umpire, founded was  
On Ida's Mount, where though by store of grass  
And mouldered ashes, which are haled forth,  
By the combustive matter of the earth:  
His aged memorial was extinguished clean,  
Yet some appearance there is to be seen,  
Which doth express that Minos' Sepulchre,  
United was with th'tomb of jupiter:  
And that fair Ida, which so fruitful grew  
With every pleasant Plant (as Poets show)  
Would deck his flowery Monument with Thyme,  
With Bays his Tomb, with luniper his shrine;  
So as no Virgin Votaress there was,  
Who had that way occasion for to pass,  
But would (for so the Cretans did allow it)  
" Tender her best of adoration to it.  
Of such Relations we have Subjects store,  
As Aiax Tomb upon the Rhetian shore,  
In Oeta great Alcides, Mytilene  
A place where many worthies laid have been,  
As Pythacus an ancient Sage of Grece,  
Alcaus, valiant Antemenydes,  
Yea though a Statist subtle as a Fox,  
They will display thy errors with a pox;  
If a vaine-humorous Lording, whose creation  
Came up the t'other day along with fashion,  
Whose only graceful neat accoutrement  
Stands on a little broken compliment;  
Then some will say, while o'er thy grave they pass,  
" Here lies a Widgin-lord, a foot-cloth Ass.  
If an imperious Beggar that canst suit  
For such one's land, and put th' true owner out;  
Thou shalt be taxed and censured in thy grave,  
And termed withal a base collouging slave.  
If a spruce Pension-Gallant, that hast nought,  
(Save a fantastic cringe) that's worthy ought,  
Receive this Brand (nor care they if thou scowl)  
Of a vainglorious, idle, formal fool.  
If an ambitious Green wit, thou do climb,  
Hoping to scale the seat of jove in time:  
If thou repine that any one should check  
Thy soaring flight, till pride shall break thy neck,  
Rest well assured, they will be bold to tell  
That Pride did Lackey thee posthaste to hell.  
Thus than thou seest, how great soever thou be,  
(If ill) thou subject art to infamy;  
Nor can the Greatness of thy worth or place,  
Exempt thee from the censure of disgrace,  
For those who whilst thou lived durst hardly mew,  
(Now being dead) will give thy crimes their due.  
O then let Virtue be thy monument,  
For it will keep thee, when thy life is spent,  
In a perpetual Memory! for alas  
What's Marble, Iron, ivory, or Brass  
To make thee glorious in the eyes of men,  
Since of all those, there's scantly one amongst ten,  
Who placed their Names in shrines, but were forgot  
Before the sheet they lay in was half rot.  
Yea such as these, who like the sons of Earth,  
Triumphed living, in their noble Birth,  
Boasting of their descent, yet could make known,  
Not any one good action of their own  
To glory in, might well resembled be,  
In each respect and native property,  
Unto a Lamp, which when the oil is spent,  
Sends from her steaming snuff, a noisome sent;  
" Living they shone like Lamps, at least they seemed,  
(But all things are not so as they are deemed)  
But dying they do show what filthy stuff  
They were made of, by sending forth their snuff.  
But when true Virtue is commixed with blood,  
Then Nobleness must needs be rightly good:  
For blood and virtue being joined together,  
Makes what agrees with one, accord with either.  
There is no Balm so precious upon Earth,  
As Virtue is▪ for it preserves our worth  
From times mutation; no corruption can  
Enter the Coffin of a Virtuous man;  
For though the Sith of Fate have cut him down,  
Yet in his death he is far better known  
Then in his life, because when men do miss him,  
Seeing his works they begin afresh to bliss him.  
O may thy Greatness (then,) who ere thou art,  
Be grounded first upon a sincere heart,  
For that will last, when that same guilded honour  
Will fail herself, and all that trust upon her.  
Short is our time, our sorrows they are long,  
Fickle our State, our Soule-assailants strong;  
Weake's our defence, rude is our Discipline,  
Rusty our Arms, our Courage feminine:  
What Recluse then? Whereto may we repair,  
To be secure from imminent despair?  
It's not our Greatness, nor descent of blood,  
How high so ere can do us any good:  
No; It's our goodness, not our greatness shall  
In that same day give privilege to all,  
Which heavens I wish, that it might once be set  
On Great-man's breasts, and made their Alphabet.  
FINIS.   

TO THE HIGH AND ILLUSTRIOUS MONARCH, CHRISTIAN KING of Denmark a PANEGYRICKE OR gratulatory Emblem, with the Successive continuance of his MAJESTY.  
The Emblem.  
GReat Christian king sovereign of many hearts,  
Royal supporting-ATLAS of all arts;  
Bellona's Chieftain, & Minerv●es friend,  
True worths advancer: please thee to attend,  
To one of Albyons' Swainelins, who would be  
Blest in himself, writing aught worthy thee.  
Long may our Whitecliffs, which gave Albyon name,  
Prepare themselves such friends to entertain;  
Long may ou● far-famed Court her lustre show,  
Made glorious by such royal Friends as thou.  
Long may our Halcyon days crown Albyons' King,  
While prosperous gailes such Friends a shore do bring.  
Long may our Commerce free to both remain,  
The Dane with English, English with the Dane.  
Happy united powers confirmed by love,  
And nere-Alliance, as those quires above.  
May you keep blessed concord, and renew  
Your years by Time's success: O may that dew  
Destilled on Hermon, fructify your Land,  
Shielded and shored by the sovereign hand  
Of the Almighty: that no foreign Foe,  
Nor homebred Innovatour, may undo  
That sacred Union, so bequeathed to either,  
As hand in hand, you may march on together.  
And thou Triumphant Queen, that dissipates  
The spacioust Provinces, and raisest states  
By unexpected means, (Great Victory)  
Smile (O attend my Prayer) auspiciously,  
On two religious Kingdoms! May thy wings  
Shadow th' achievements of two royal Kings:  
That their propitious Fates enstiled may be,  
As Faiths-De●endors, so true heirs to thee●  
O may those ancient monuments of Time,  
Stuck on their predecessors Hearses, shine  
More now then ever, that ' i'th' age to come  
The Father may relate unto his Son  
What conquests and what glory hath been got,  
And such renown as they expected not!  
Shine out fair Lamp of honour, and give way,  
It's ●ot the morn, but evening Crowns the day;  
May peaceful morning, and victorious Even,  
Bless them on earth, eternize them in Heaven.  
Nor can I doubt in such apparent sweets  
Of real Goodness, where perfection meets,  
And makes a well-tuned Concord, but the earth  
Will glory much to have so great a birth  
Planted within her Bosom: For the bliss  
Of earth's inhabitants, consists in this,  
When Princes govern with religious eye,  
And justice lodgeth in a Monarchy.  
There's no complaint, but with harmonious sound,  
(Like heavenly dwellers) they make blest the ground  
Where they inhabit: there united peace  
Makes their Barns full, gives to their flocks increase.  
There sacred Temples are erected on high,  
And praises sung to heaven's pure Majesty:  
There's no repining at another's weal●,  
All like Sareptahs' Widow have their meal  
Renewed, and re-encreased, which still we see,  
Succeeds to such gives Hospitality.  
For virtues have their Guerdon, and appear  
Bright in heaven's eye, to such as sojourn here.  
O happy then where Majesty doth shine,  
If virtues keep a Tune, or keep a time:  
There's a terrestrial Hierarchy, which doth show  
Fair in such men, as do such virtues owe!  
In thee (Rich Mirror) I have heard and sen,  
What merits admiration in mean men,  
Much more in Princes, nor can I express  
Imagination freely: yet I guess  
Then yet thou art possessed of: and it is  
The best (Inferiors can do) to wish  
Successive days, continuance of Friends,  
Renowned lives, and Time-eternised ends:  
To those we are obliged to: and to thee▪  
Much are we tied, accepting Poesy,  
With such a graceful aspect, as thy breath,  
Infuseth life in us, when meager death  
Seemed to surprise us: should we then forget  
The best revivour of our vncheered wit,  
The Mirror of affected Clemency?  
O no, for then ungrateful we should be,  
And make our works contemptuous to such men  
As have vouch sated some time to harbour them:  
Indeed, if labours could a promise give,  
To such as patronise them, ere to live  
With fame's light-sayles displayed, I know we might  
Have far more Patrons, then have works to write:  
But what can Hyble promise that is there,  
Worthy th'attention of a Prince's ear;  
Some scattered sprays perchance, which cropped might be.  
From Adonis' Garden. or Apollo's tree.  
Some sweetened drops drawn from that sacred spring  
Where all the warbling Nine were wont to sing.  
For never Garden yet was half so sweet,  
As where Apollo, and the Muses meet.  
Yet what are these? And what are we that write,  
Since Kings be choice & must have choice delight.  
To cheer their pure affections? It is true;  
Albyons Parnassus has but little new,  
Or store of pure varieties: yet there be  
Some that have sung in th' Ear of Majesty;  
And with acceptance (though with homely strain)  
Which is the cause that now they sing again.  
Nor doth the tune, but tenure of the mind  
Make the best Concord: Which if Prince's find,  
They cherish it, to make the Consort more,  
(For so the royalest Princes did before)  
And to continue what the Ancients did,  
Our Modern ages have authorized  
What they confirmed: nor can we glory less,  
Sith we have such that can as well express,  
Their Country's Fame, the honour of their King,  
As well in lofty strains, as Sonnetting,  
As ever former Bards, and with less toil,  
For ours more free, theirs was a forced soil.  
And what esteem have Authors of this kind  
Been amongst Potentst Monarches, we shall find  
In times be●t Mirror, ancient History,  
Where they reserve due wreaths for Poesy.  
The world's great Viceroy slept not as we read,  
Without the works of Homer under's head;  
Augustus loved his Maro, Martial  
Had a Domitian, and tart Iwenall  
No worse Protector, aged Soph●cles,  
Sweet-breathing Hesiod, grave Euripide●  
Passion-affecting Aeschylus, all these  
Had places to retire to, and could please  
With smooth, quick, pithy, various passionate,  
Choice, native, modest, and elaborate,  
Passions, affections, measures, and delights  
For men, maids, Matrons, love-admiring Knights,  
Campe-royall planters, where no act did pass,  
Which they engraved 〈◊〉 in leaves of Brass.  
Their monumental Tablets: these were they  
That could distinguish 'twixt the cheerful day  
Of Resolution, where's true virtue's light,  
And recreant spirits clouded with the Night.  
Of a depressed mind: nought could be done  
Under heaven's glorious Cresset, but was shown  
By an impartial pen, and did remain  
For after● Ages to look over again.  
And were not these works for a Princely ear  
To descant on: when virtue did appear  
In naked feature, and 〈…〉 Name  
To be in Nature and in essence same  
What she was moulded for? And she it is  
That never had another Mott but this.  
If spotless Reputation be away,  
Men are but guilded lime, or painted clay.  
And what Apelles ever could portray,  
And pure substance, or so well display  
The perfect form of being, as this Art,  
Or divine Influence, can describe each part  
Of honours fair proportion; this is she  
That gives a living soul to Majesty,  
Records the acts of Princes, and sets down,  
What's worth record fr● th' ploughshare to the Crown.  
Renewing life in death, for by her breath,  
Selfsame may live, that is surprised by death:  
Making his actions breathing: nor can time  
Impose a period to an Art divine;  
For it's transparent in obscurity,  
Clear in the silent shade, and loves to be,  
As virtue is in Action: this being true,  
What can we do, but give this Art 〈◊〉 due,  
More to her Grace, but as she's Princely bred,  
So by a Prince to have her sheltered.  
It will erect her spirits, cheer her wings,  
And make her perch even on the crest of Kings:  
Admiring her own Beauty: and who can  
Amongst a world of Princes, find a man  
Who might her Patronage better beseem,  
Then thou great Prince, brother to Albyons' 
* This Pae negyrick Poem was wri during the life of our late Queen: whose Princely virtues (like precious odours) will ever preserve her sacred Memory.  Queen,  
Whose ripened judgement aims at some great end,  
In reading nought, but it does apprehend.  
And what more precious ornament can be  
Worn by a Prince, than such a Theory?  
But alas how weake's my Muse to set thee forth,  
That beáres within thyself the marks of worth,  
As Honour's native Characters? And best  
Is Honour shown, when graven on the breast  
Of the possessor? Like adorns thy heart,  
For speaking thee, who knows not what thou art?  
O may it be (I pray) the supreme will  
Of heaven, to add more glory to thee still,  
That each succeeding day may give increase  
To a succeeding honour: may sweet peace  
Smile on thy fruitful Empire, and extend,  
Her large Commission to the world's end.  
So shall Minerva flourish, and make great  
The fair foundation of thy Royal seat.  
Mean time (Victorious Prince) gain the renow●e▪  
And in thy Christian Title, overcome.  
FINIS.   

AN EMBLEM UPON THE ROYAL MASQVE PRESENted in the King of Denmark's last being here. Personated regally, shadowed really, and alluded rarely.  
THrice glorious Spirits, royal in your state,  
Albyons- fair lustres highly consecrate.  
To him whom you on Earth do represent,  
May you be ever in this Element  
Of perfect joy: that the full height of time  
May (as you were presented Masculine)  
Cheer up your man like thoughts, that your great birth  
(Being enstiled no less than Gods on earth)  
May when your Time's expired (and long may't be  
E'er that time come) put on eternity.  
Your Masque presents a life (silent you came,  
So Maskers do) and we express the same  
In our Birth-entrie, nothing can we speak  
Articulate; only sends out a shreque,  
To show our misery; the next you bear  
'S a vizard, which implies these robes we wear,  
Of Flesh, and of Mortality; which when  
Time shall dissolve, we are no longer men,  
But Angels: Your disguise may shadow at,  
That strange desire we have to imitate  
Foreign disguised habits, when it's known,  
We have more comely habits of our own.  
Those Feminine-Mirrors (Ladies) you brought in,  
Shows Adam's happiness, and Adam's sin;  
His happiness, when God to make his state  
Perfect-delightfull, gave to him a mate,  
●lesh of his own flesh, and bone of his bone,  
Thinkinged not good that man should be alone.  
His sin, when's mate, wherein he seemed to be  
Happy, did hapless taste th'forbidden tree.  
Lively was this expressed, when th'Ladies bore  
From you those Gems and jewels which you wore▪  
Implying that pure Gem of Innocence,  
Adam was robbed of by Eve's negligence.  
Taking from th' Ladies: thus much did impart,  
" Men spoused to women, ●ob them of their heart,  
For it's no longer theirs, for theirs is gone,  
One heart in two, or two reduced to one.  
This is my Emblem for the Masculine,  
Now must our woman-Pen turn Feminine.  
Delicious moulds of Nature, whose pure form  
Was formed by Nature, chiefly to adorn  
And beautify herself: which she did show,  
First in herself, examplified by you.  
You masked, thus much implies, that modesty  
Innate to Womanhood, ought most to be  
Where sexes are immixed: those Princely men,  
Which you deprived and robbed of their Gems,  
Includes your true humility: being forced  
To take from that Sex, Eve took of at first:  
And that perfection which you have began,  
Not from yourselves, but from the worth of Man.  
These ornaments (are virtues Emblems) where  
Beauty by honour graced does appear  
More cheerful, and assumeth to it more  
Of divine Essence, than it had before.  
You spoilt, portrayes your modest▪ Princely shame,  
Scorning to take and not to give again▪  
Here is a great mind shown: whose placed delight,  
Is ne'er to take, more than it will requite.  
Those Virgin-lamps of yours, with oil sustained,  
Express those Virgins, that were entertained  
Into the Bride-chamber: hence you are  
Compared to those wise-virgins that had care  
To have their oil prepared, and might come,  
With Virgin-glory to the Nuptial room.  
Your oil's the splendour of a virtuous life,  
And she's a Virgin, that's a Virgin-wife;  
Making her husband (linked by sacred right  
Unto herself) sole mate of her delight.  
The place where you present this Masque of yours,  
May seem an Emblem, to those heavenly powers  
Which shine in Syons-Court: pure mirrors here,  
And glorious Daughters of perfection there.  
Your Masque expired, includes our frail lifes-taske,  
Whence was't that Prince compared it to a mask,  
Wherein men were disguised, nor could one then  
Discover right the phisnomy of men,  
Having their face obscured: and such be now  
Those, who are nothing less than what they show,  
Having appearance to the outward eye,  
Of seeming that they are not inwardly.  
But when our Masque of Flesh is stripped off clean,  
Then is it clearly shown, what we have been.  
Your d●nce (Times measure) may be thus expressed,  
Lifes-action is a dance, which craveth rest;  
Yourselves th' Ideas of true Excellence,  
Show what you shall be when you go from hence.  
FINIS.   

TO THE JUDICIOUS And general approved, HUMPHREY DAUMP ORT, Esquire: Practitioner in the Common Laws; Whose Subject, is the goodness of the cause; and whose aim is to redress wrong: The accomplishment of his virtuous desires, with the perusal of this Encomiastic POEM.  
Upon the worthy and sincere Pro●icients and Professants of the Common Law: an Encomiastic POEM.  

LAw is the line, whose level is dispatch,  
A Lamp, whose light shows justice what is right,  
A Lark, whose unsealed eyes keep early watch,  
A Loom, whose frame cannot be swayed by might,  
A List, where truth puts injury to flight; (choice list,  
Strait line, bright Lamp, sweet lark, strong Loom▪  
Guide, shine, shield, guard, and live Truth's Martialist.   

Law is the Stern, which steres the Ship of State,  
The glorious Stem, whence justice, Science spring,  
The cheerful Star, which early shines and late,  
The Staff, whose stay supports the languishing,  
The Stream, whose spring is ever cherishing;  
Rare Sterne, rich Stem, clear Star, firm Staff, pure steram,  
Steer, cheer, direct, support, refresh the e'en.   

Blessed then are you, who labour to redress  
The poor man's case, and measure your contents  
By shielding th' weak from awful mightiness,  
Like grave Professants, good Proficients,  
Clozing with equity your joint consents;  
'Tis you, 'tis you, who in this blemished time,  
Send out your lights, while other Stars decline.   

When Grece in glory flourished, she did rear  
Some Images near justice sacred throne,  
Which to be l●me and blind portrayed were,  
As proper Objects to be looked upon,  
Implying what in justice should be done;  
Blind to distinguish friend or foe, and lame  
From taking bribes to stain Astraenas' name.   

Clear lights, pure lamps, rare stems, rich streams of life,  
who shine, beam, spring, and drain your Crystal course  
From justice throne, to cool the heat of strife  
By curbing awe with Law, with censure force,  
To chastise with restraint, cheer with remorse;  
Long may you live, since by your life you give  
justice new breath, and make her ever live.   Salus civitatis sita est in legibus▪  

A PRAYER TO THE HIGH COURT OF HEAVEN, FOR the high Court of Parliament now assembled: that their Counsels and Consultations may be so directed, As God's glory may be advanced, and unity in Church and Commonwealth established.  
LORD what am I that I should speak to thee,  
Or what art thou to bow thine ear to me  
That am but dust? Lord hear not as I am,  
A sinne-conceived and polluted man,  
But for thy Christ, who to redeem his sheep,  
Did seeking find, and till He found did seek  
His wand'ring Lambkins; hear what I do pray,  
" Who art the Pilgrims staff, the Shepherds stay.  
Give Lord▪ O give to all that do profess  
Thy glorious name and Gospel, quietness,  
Defeat the malice of thy Zion's foes,  
But specially (good God) th' attempts of those  
Who wish with all their heart to prey upon  
This little Eden, flowery albion;  
It is thy hedged garden, water it, 
Cant. 4.. 1●.   
As to thy sacred wisdom shall seem ●it;  
It is thy fruitful vine, 
Psal. 80. ●.  may it increase  
Unto thy glory (Lord) and Syon● peace, 
Isa. 5. 4.   
That ravenous Wolf or subtle Fox ne'er may 
joh. 15. 1.   
Break in by force and steal her Grapes away.  
And for as much Confusion needs must breed  
Where members do subsist without a head,  
Bless our Dread Sovereign, Lord, bless him, that He  
Both in himself and his Posterity,  
May steer, support, and guide the stern of State,  
That Others eyeing us, may wonder at  
The blessed peace and freedom we obtain  
Under so wise and good a Sovereign.  
And may He ever have one of his own  
(if 't be thy pleasure) to sit on this Throne,  
This peaceful I'll to solace and secure,  
So long as Sun or Moon shall ere endure.  
●lesse the most prudent Council of this Land,  
Lord in their Consultations have a hand;  
May Thou and they in judgement still consent,  
But specially th' High house of Parliament,  
Which by thy will and providence divine,  
To right the State, 's assembled at this time.  
Lord be amongst them, that whatsoever they doom,  
May be to th'weal and Peace of Christendom.  
May popular Opinion never draw them,  
May love to God and Goodmen oversaw them:  
May all their Acts be a continued Story,  
To further and advance thy sacred glory:  
May Prince be pleased, State eased, and men with men  
Live here in Love, and rest in peace: Amen▪  
FINIS.   

PANEDONE: OR HEALTH FROM HELICON: CONTAINING Emblems, Epigrams, Elegies, With other continuate Poems, full of all generous delight;  
By RICHARD BRATHWAYTE Esquire.  
Licet toto nunc Helicone frui.  Mart. 

Do not look on me with a careless eye,  
First read and judge, then buy or else go by.   
LONDON Printed by john Dawson for john Bellamy, and are to be sold at the South entrance of the Royal-exchange. 1621.   

The Number and Order of these EPIGRAMS, As they are to follow in this Tract, ENTITLED PANEDONE.  
Divided into two parts.  
The first, dilating itself to these Subjects. 

1. To the World.  
2. Cares cure; or, a fig for care.  
3. An Elegy entitled, Bound, yet free.  
4. Free, yet Bound.  
5. A Dialogue of Hobbinoll, etc.  
6. A Pastoral Eglogue between Cuddy and Rowie.  
7. The Parrots Spring.  
8. Narcissus' Emblem.    

The second Part.  
1. Ebrius experiens; or, the Drunkard's humour.  
2. The Old-man's Hearse; or, the Young man's jubilee.  
3. The eye.  
4. Upon Fortune.  
5. Upon Mya.  
6. The sign in Cancer.  
7. Hymen's Eglogue.  
8. Hymen's Choice.  
9 Love's Description.  
10. A Nuptial Hymn.  
11. An Elegiac Sonnet.  
12. The Widdow-bride.  
13. Coridon, or, the Western Huntsman.    

TO MY TRVELY WORTHY AND MUCH RESPECTED Friend, Sr THOMAS GAINSFORD Knight: his best wishes.  
ONce Sir▪ to lash the World●made't ●made't a sport,  
And many thought I should be lashed for't,  
So as some nere-ones did me much importune  
To shroud myself and shield me from misfortune  
But I (resolved to justify my Writ)  
Did not as others did, recant from it,  
But still avouched unto that vicious crew,  
That I would stand to't, what I wrote was true.  
Whence every brain his racked construction had,  
While one supposed me to be surely mad;   


For tell me, thou large Continent of vice,  
What may be now esteemed of most price,  
Amongst thy Worldlings? Honour, honour, thou  
Art she to whom they Sacrifices do;  
Thou art that painted Idol, whose esteem  
Some value more than souls, how●ere they seem:  
While with ambitious wings they mount so high,  
As like Icarian fools they touch the sky,  
To make them heirs of ruin; For we know  
〈◊〉 ●ates are most secure, which are most low,  
So this vn●ounded Greatness doth express it  
Best in depressing him who doth possess it.  
Next this (for what is't Greatness may not do)  
Is a Grand crime which I'll deblazon too, cries;  
And it's Oppression, which doth still arise  
From Widow's tears, and from poor● Orphans  
Here doth a poor 〈◊〉 crave he may have right,  
But 'las his Title is kept down by Might,  
Good is his cause and yet he fareth worse,  
Because liane fees do issue from his Purse.  
Then what relief may to the poor be given,  
Save to refer him and his cause to heaven!  
For shrubbs by these high Pines are so kept under,  
That if they risé they're surely broke asunder.  
Now ye fat Bulls of Basan (I must speak)  
Why do ye feed and prey upon the weak,  
Why do ye grind the faces of the poor,  
To squize their state, their substance to devour,  
As if exempt from Vengeance▪ Do ye think  
God's so indulgent He will ever wink  
At your oppression, violence, and wrong!  
No, he will strike though he has spared long,  
And in his fury will estrange your Land  
From you and yours, in turning of a hand.  
Next partiall-guilt Corruption, I must make  
Thy stain my Subject for pure justice sake,  
Whose sacred Shrine polluted by thy means,  
Repines to see those time-eternised streams  
Of Themis, troubled with that puddle stench,  
Where bribed fists have sole pre-eminence:  
Here comes a Plaintiff with a cause as good  
As truth can make't if rightly understood,  
Yet 'cause he knows not whom or when to fee,  
he's overthrown against all equity;  
So as this justice was compared by one,  
Aptly unto the Celedoni● stone,  
Which Stone, as by Historians we are told,  
Retains her virtue being rubbed with gold,  
So as the Nature of the Stone is such,  
As gold preserves her virtue with her touch,  
For ceasing but with Gold to rub this Stone  
The secret virtue is extinct and gone.  
Thrice blessed have those days esteemed been,  
Which the renowned Basill lived in,  
When during th' time he sat upon his Throne,  
Neither were Plaintiff nor Defendant known,  
But like Critolaus scale, with such even weight  
Were all things poised, as equity and right  
Still gained the Conquest, and injurious wrong  
Was censured too, were th' Client ne'er so strong.  
Dem●sthenes being asked, what Men had  
That most resembled God, he answered,  
" Be charitable and embrace the truth,  
'Tis this that God affects, and this he doth.  
It is reported that at Athens, there  
Certain Grave Images erected were,  
Which Images had neither hands nor eyes,  
Implying thence that judges should despise  
Bribes or affection, or divert from right  
For friends respect to darken justice light.  
O let these Mirrors (I will say no more)  
Which have divulged their fame so long before,  
Be Annals or Records for us to read,  
That as we imitate them, so our seed,  
Careful preservers of our Memory,  
May stamp like forms in their posterity.  
Next unto thee thou Ulcer of this Land,  
Which hales down Vengeance from th' Almighty's hand,  
Upon thy impious Contracts, Usury,  
Thou hideous horror, forge of injury,  
Fraud and collusion, thou prodigious pile,  
Menacing desolation to this I'll,  
And to her flowery borders, do I come,  
To give thee notice of that fearful doom,  
Which shall, (as sure as Heaven) pronounced be,  
Upon those odious Imps that usher thee▪  
This Cankerworm, as it is registered,  
Was by Lycurgus, Sparta banished;  
In Egypt Amasis did punish it,  
With such severity as did befit;  
Cato did banished out of Sicily,  
Solon condemned it in that Nursery  
Of fame-eternised Athens, which did heal  
Many Distractions in the commonweal.  
If we from Pagans such examples gather,  
Who had but light of Nature, how much rather  
Ought we such horrid crimes to chase away,  
Who have been taught far better things than they!  
For we are Christians, and should rather give  
Ethnics example how they ought to live,  
Then by a course depraved to express  
That we are lest what we by faith profess.  
Of more (my Patron) could I censure thee,  
As Incest, Sacrilege, Church-symonie,  
Eare-marked perjury, which in each Coast  
Swears men out of their state by knights of th' Post;  
With thousand more, but I must now prepare  
To sing my Canto, styled, A fig for care,  
Wherein I'll prove (nor care I if thou scowl)  
The greatest Worldling is the greatest fool.  
FINIS.   

Cares Cure, OR A fig for Care.  

Happy is that stat● of his,  
Takes the World as it is,  
Lose he honour, friendship, wealth,  
Lose he liberty or health,  
Lose he all that Earth can give,  
Having nought whereon to live;  
So prepared a mind in him,  
he's resolved to sink or swim.   

Some will pule if they but hear,  
How next Summer will be dear,  
As th' Engrosser who doth heap  
Graine, laments when it is cheap:  
Gallant who have run their race  
In all riot, fear the Mace;  
Punks whose trunks of lucre smell,  
Fear the Bridewell more than Hell.   

But when I remember these,  
Hermon, and Hermocrates,  
Lesser flies are quickly ta'en  
While the Great break out again;  
Or so many Schisms and Sects  
Which foul Heresy detects,  
To suppress the fire of zeal  
Both in Church and Commonweal!   

Should I weep to see some write  
To add fuel to delight  
But no Task to undertake  
Any time for Conscience sake;  
Or to mourn to see the Dove  
Ever censured for her love,  
While the Puttock flies away  
Privileged what ere he say!   

Should I grieve when I'm in place  
That my foe should be in grace,  
Or in silent woe lament  
At my friends his discontent,  
Or repine that Men of worth  
Should want means to set them forth.  
Or disdain my Wench should be  
kind to any one but me!   

Should I blind my eyes with tears,  
Or oppress my heart with fears,  
When nor tears nor fears avail  
Such whose choicest comforts fail,  
By converting that sweet air  
Of delight unto despair,  
For I know no enterbreath  
Limits these save only Death!   

Should I sigh for that I see  
World goes not well with me,  
Or inveigh against envious Fate  
Still to lower on my estate,  
Or reprove such as express  
Nothing save unthankfulness.  
Or expose myself to grief,  
Cause my woes are past relief!   

Should I grieve because I give  
No contentment where I live,  
Though my best endeavours prove  
That my actions merit love;  
Or repine at others aim  
Gaining more than I can gain,  
When their vain misguided course  
Shows their humour to be worse!   

Should I pine away and die  
Or my childish tears descry  
'Cause my Neighbours are untoward  
Wilful wife, and servants froward,  
Or exclaim against destiny  
Who so crossly matched me,  
Or desire no more to live  
Since I live the more to grie●e!   

Should I mourn, repine, or mo●●  
To be left distressed alone,  
Or wish Death approaching nigh  
With a bleered blubb'red eye,  
Cause my Means I scarce can find  
Of proportion with my Mind,  
Or breath sadly 'cause my breath  
Draws each minute nearer Death!   

No there's nought on Earth I fear  
That may force from me one tear,  
Loss of Honour, Freedom's, Health,  
Or that Mortal Idol, Wealth;  
With These Babes may grieved be  
But they have no power o'er me;  
Less my substance less my share  
In my fear and in my care.   

Fear he must that doth possess  
Lest his substance should grow less,  
Which oft drives him to extremes  
Both in broken sleeps and dreams;  
But so little do I care  
For these Feathers in the air,  
As I laugh while others grieve  
Loving these which they must leave.   

Wretched Moles who poor on earth  
And conceive no taste of mirth,  
But in hoarding heap on heap  
What's the fruit in end they reap  
Save returning to that slime  
Which they tugged for all their time?  
Sure I am, reduced to clay  
Poorest are as rich as they.   

Care I would but not for this  
'Cause it lessens care of Bliss;  
Yet not so as not to care  
What we spend or what we spare,  
For this careless course we call  
Merely vain and prodigal;  
But that Golden mean to keep  
As no Care may break our sleep.   

Thus to love and thus to live,  
Thus to take and thus to give,  
Thus to laugh and thus to sing,  
Thus to mount on pleasure's wing,  
Thus to sport and thus to speed,  
Thus to flourish, nourish, feed,  
Thus to spend and thus to spare  
Is to bid, A fig for Care.   
FINIS.   

An Elegy, Entitled Bound yet free, speaking of the benefit of Imprisonment.  

THou whom we call lives death, Captivity,  
Yet canst contemplate in the darkest cell▪  
Of thingst above the reach of vanity,  
Dost in my judgement Liberty excel,  
In that thou teachest Man to mortify  
His indisposed passions, and canst well  
Direct him how to manage his estate,  
Confined to th'narrow Prospect of thy grate.   

He sees the passage of this Globe of earth,  
And makes right use of what his sight partakes;  
Some he observes express a kind of mirth,  
Of which he this due application makes;  
If they did know the misery of Birth,  
With Death's approach, they would not hazard stake  
Of souls eternal glory for a day  
Of present joy, which one hour takes away.   

Others he hears, bemoaning of the loss  
Of some dear friend, or't may be not so well,  
Decrease of 
a Aduersis et pro●eris boni ad perfectionem virtu●is acceding. Aug.  Fortune, or some other cross,  
Which to forgo they deem a second Hell,  
(So firmly fixed be their minds on dross)  
As nought smells well, but what of gain doth 〈◊〉  
These He● condemns, and proves that every way  
The Captiu'st wretch's in better state than they.   

Others he notes observing of the time.  
Mere fashion-mongers, shadow of the great,  
And these attendance give where th' Sun doth shine,  
And like to Isis' Ass admire the 
b Hi stupen● in utilis & imaginibus. Annulo magis quam animo credentes.  seat,  
More than the Person, 'cause the robes be fine  
That hang about it: and he does entreat  
Their Absence; for these cannot well (saith he)  
By living, leave name to Posterity.   

Others as base and far more dangerous  
Notes he as Politician Machavells,  
Who ' count that 
c Alexander Severus would have smoked such sellers of smoake-Xerxes would have pu●led their skin over their ears.  gain which is commodious,  
Adhering to themselves and to none else,  
For These make ancient houses ruinous,  
And Charity from out the Realm expels;  
Reducing th' Orphans tear and Widows curse,  
To th' damned Elixir of their well-crammed purse.   

Others he notes and they would noted be,  
For 
d Quid facit infacie Christianae purpurissus etc. Hierom: ad Furiam de viduit: Servand; Tom. 1 ●ampla sati● forma pudicitia. Proper▪  painting, pur●ling, smoothing, cerusing,  
Show they would be observed for vanity,  
Starving their Souls by Bodies cherishing;  
And these he laughs at for their fool erie,  
For while They put the Case to garnishing,  
That Shell of frailty, They're indifferent  
What shall become of th'soul the Instrument.   

Others there be which seem least what they are,  
Pretending truth in falsehood, and do gull  
The world with shadows; yet doth He compare  
The passage of Events and finds at full  
Their end's attended with an endless care,  
And pregnant wit which seemed so smooth proves dull,  
When 
e Fugiet ab agro ad civitatem, a publico ad domum, a domo in cubiculum etc. Aug. in E●ar: Sup. 45. Psalm.  thousand Testates shall produced be,  
For to disclose his close 
f Nil interest habere ostium apertum, vultume clausum. Cic.  hypocrisy.   

Others he sees and taxeth, for they hold  
Proportion with the world, and being made  
After a better Image, yet are sold  
To all Collusion, making in their trade  
This vile Position; Who'll be rich when old  
Must cheat being young: but see how they're displayed,  
So oft have they 
g The bread of deceit is sweet to a man, but his mouth shall be filled with gravel Pro. 20. 17.  deceived, as now they must  
Perforce deceive themselves by men's distrust.   

Others as Prollers of the time he sees,  
But scorns to take acquaintance, for their 
h Regitur fatis Mortale genus. Sen●. on Trag.  Fate  
Presageth worst of ills, whose best increase  
Proceeds from good men's fall; yet mark their state  
As indirectly got, so little peace  
accrues in state to any, for the hate  
Of God and Man attends them; and how then  
Should there be peace, where's war with God & men?   

More he beholds, and he observes them too.  
And numbers their dimensions as they pass  
The compass of his Prospect to and fro,  
For this same Grate he makes his Looking glass.  
In which he sees more than the world can show,  
Conferring what is present with what was;  
Extracting this from times experienced School,  
" The Captiue's freer than the World's fool. 
i Vbi pars divina in homine mersa est.    

For by the first, we show but what we are,  
And moralise ourselves, in being penned  
Close from the world's eye, which we compare  
Unto a 
k Omnis vita seruitium est. Seine: de tranq: anim.  Prison; since th' Enfranchisement  
We haue's in 
l Inquilins in terris, in col● in coelis.  heaven: then howe'er we fare,  
Though bound, yet free in mind, th'Imprisonment  
We suffer cannot so our spirits depress,  
That th' freedom of our Minds should seem aught less.   

Aught less; nay more: for we approve as true,  
What the divine Moral taught, That one may have  
A fuller and more perfect interview  
Of the Stars beauty in a hollow Cave  
Then on the Superficies: for the show  
Of pomp distracts our passions, and doth slave  
Our 
m Ancillan● dominari & dominam ancillari magna abusio est. Bern. Let Senes become subject to the sovereignty of Reason.  reason to our sense; whence we may know  
" The dangers of high States are seen below.   

Below; and what more low then to be shut  
From open air, 
n Ae si hismanae so 〈◊〉 tati penitas alicnus esset.  stranged from the sight of men,  
Closed in Oblivion, linked hand and foot  
Lest their escape gain liberty? What then,  
Shall this enthrall my soul! it cannot do't;  
It does aspire above the thoughts of them  
Who shed their 
o 
Afranius hearing his effeminate Son cry out, alas, me wretched; replied as severely: If one part grieve thee, would to God all parts did smart alike. 4. ●useul●   childish tears when they are sent  
By higher powers to take them to restraint.   

There is no giddy-headed Want-wit there,  
Who makes profuser meetings all his bliss;  
For such (for sooth) must change their 
e Solum coe ●umque mutant, more● tamen eosde retinent vid. Senec. de tranq Et Lips. de constan. Hoc fuco prodire licet, lucemque tueri quae mihi vitae frui, quae caeruisse mori.  Country air  
Because they are sick, yet know not whence it is:  
Here are no mincing Dames who long to go  
To Rumford, Hoggsdon, or to Pimlico.   

Lastly, amongst many thousands which my Pen  
Might here produce, shall't be a 
f Tune Poaetae dignum nomen habes? habeas cognomen et I●i.  Poet's fate  
(As no one fate more ominous amongst men)  
To be accused for glancing at the State,  
Here they're exempt from such as censure them,  
For worst of 
g Hinc leges (inquit So ●ou) aranearum tel●s si milimas esse; ● quibus parum difficile est, potentio●ibus elabi: ●●nuoribus ●utem Mustis exceder●, nagis ar●●uum. La. ●rt. in vit. Solon.  Fortune hath expressed her hate  
To their obscured glory; so as they  
May chant high strains, yet none notes what they say.   

Their tunes are tones and accents of delight,  
Which pierce the air, when most bereft of air,  
And with soule-cheering beams disperse the Night  
Of their consuming cares: for all their care  
Is to erect their thoughts unto that Light  
Which cannot be eclypsed but still shines fair:  
Where glory's endless, boundless in content,  

h Sitanta delect abilia contintat Car●er, qua●ta, qu●so, continere poterit patria? Aug. Soliloq cap. 21.  Prison a Palace, freed from restraint.   

If 
i Hoc nobis adsert longius vitae spatium, quod plura mala partim videmus, partim sustinemus, partim perpetramus. Nazien. in Funeb: Orat. pro Caesarto.  life indeed were such a jubilee,  
That every hour, day, year did promise us  
Continuate health, and wealth, and liberty,  
Then had we better reason to excuse  
The love we have to our Mortality;  
But since we see, we cannot will nor choose  
But must be reft of these, why should we grieve  
To leave as Men, what Men are forced to 
k Non mag num est sua sed se relinquere.  leave?   

Nor skills it much where we be reft of these,  
Whether in Thrall or Freedom; but of th' two  
I'd rather lose my Fortune where I cease  
To make resort to any, and must know  
No more of World or the World's press,  
But am retired from the Public show  
Of this frail 
l Vniversus Mundus es ercet his 〈◊〉 nem. In quo Mimum vitae agimus.  Theatre, and am confined  
In flesh, to taste true liberty of 
m Animi in perio, corpo ris Seruit● magis utimur. Salus Seruitute corporis, o● tim● libert● t● mentis fruimur.  mind.   

A mind as free as is the Body thrall,  
Transcendent in her being, taking Wings  
Of Morning to ascend, and make that all  
Of hers immortal; sphering it with Kings  
Whose glory is so firm it cannot fall;  
Where every Saint in their reposure sings  
Triumphant 
n Quae 〈◊〉 tica? quae organa? qu● cantilenae? quae ●elodi▪ tbi sine fine decamantur etc. Aug. in M● nu: cap. vi.  Paeans of eternity  
To him whose sight gives perfect liberty.   

Then whether my restraint enforce or no,  
I'll be myself, but more in my restraint;  
Because through it I see the end of woe,  
Tasting in grief the essence of content:  
That when from this same 
o In causa, in qua Deo pla cere cupio, homines non sormido. Greg in indict: 2. Ep▪ 78.  double ward I go,  
This same entangled Prison, th' Continent  
Of heavenly Freedom may receive my soul  
Which Flesh imprison might but not control.   

Rest then (retired Muse) and be thy 
p Caelum So●que mu●, teipsum nmutans: et: de cons: ●ilosop.  own,  
Though all thy own forsake thee; that when friends,  
Fortune, and freedom are but small or none,  
Thy hopes may aim at more transcendent ends;  
So by thy 
q The body ●ll chasti●d, the soul becomes ●eared; ●aking Af●ction her tercise to ●y her con●ancy, her ●trance to ●r Native Country, ●er assurace ●a the state of glory.  Body in straight Durance thrown,  
Thy unconfined Soul may make amends;  
For that which she had in her freedom lost,  
In that most blest wherein she seemed most crossed.   
FINIS.   

Free, yet Bound. An Epigram Upon Marriage, dilating upon the servile Freedom, or free Servitude of such as are Married.  
Non sum qui fueram.  

MARRIED; what means that title? Servitude;  
Who would embrace it then? He that desires  
To lose his freedom, which so soon expires  
As he joins hand in hand to her he sued:  
Which firm affiance oft times most is rued,  
Where wanton folly scorched with youthful fires,  
Plants all content on earth in th' Marriagebed,  
And what delight's to loose a Maidenhead.   

Poor hair brained Lover, little dost thou think  
How thou art fledged in Bird-lime, and ensnared  
With thousand mazes; little hast thou cared  
What should ensue hereafter, till the brink  
Of thy transformed estate did make thee sink  
Into the Verge of care, where thou hast shared  
For an vncaptiued mind, a mind in cage,  
With griefs well suiting such a Pilgrimage.   

Once might thou sing, and though thou little had,  
Knew well to tune thy Pipe unto thy ear;  
But now how strange those strains of mirth appear,  
It's featured in thy look, for it is sad;  
And yet we know thee for the selfsame lad  
That thou was once when as thou soiorned here:  
And in a happier case than thou wast then,  
" For lads are far inferior unto men.   

True, in conceit and growth of years they are,  
If those alone conferred to happiness,  
But alas conceit oft adds to wretchedness  
Where Men conceive th' extremities of care,  
Which change their minds as years do change their hair,  
And makes them know that Earth affords no Bless  
Like to a mind enfranchised, whose free life  
Takes Contemplation for his wedded wife.   

A happy wife, whose portion is herself,  
Not garish in her habit, for her mind  
Is to a purer subject still inclined,  
Then admiration of soule-clogging pelf;  
She steers her well-rigged ship from every shelf,  
And fails with easy tide and happy wind:  
Her aim is heavenly, and howsoever on earth,  
She merry seem, it's but a feigned mirth.   

But what a difference there is 'twixt these,  
A wife Contemplative which we do take,  
When we for wife our Contemplation make,  
And such a wife as we must seek to please,  
Studies her own content, delight, and ease;  
Whose vanities we must of force partake,  
And slave ourselves, which is the worst of ill,  
Unto a boundless and a bendlesse will.   

And hence the pregnantst wits are so depressed  
As their aspiring greatness must decline,  
And lose their worth by giving way to time,  
Which, if they were themselves, they would detest;  
But as worse Fortune still pursues the best,  
So sad events such wits are most divine:  
Where Mind made weak by want or discontent  
Is spent with woe which should in worth be spent.   

And yet, me thinks, I might object against this,  
How love combined in one should rather add,  
And give a grace unto the worth we had,  
Then any way obscure so choice a Bliss;  
For one we know may sooner do amiss,  
Having no firm direction, but is glad  
To follow his own motion, than that man  
" Who has one to advise him all she can.   

And thanks to heaven, I have got such an one,  
Who though she be no professed Monitor,  
Shall as she merits, be my Counsellor;  
For she is firm above comparison,  
And loves all Music save Division:  
Nor yet assumes she to herself that power  
As her Instructions were so absolute,  
That first with Reason she should not dispute.   

But alas how many have not cast their lot  
In such a hopeful field, where every hour  
Their wives shrude tongue like Satan's Parretour  
Summons their spleen to vengeance, which made hot  
With wrath and fury hath ofttimes begot  
Children unjustly fathered; for the power  
Of woman's such, and so it hath been still,  
" The husband's badge is in the Woman's will.   

And rather than they'll unrevenged be,  
They will incur the shame of Prostitute,  
Lest that their husbands should be destitute  
Of some fit crest for want of Heraldry,  
Where both partakers are of infamy,  
For one with other equally do suit;  
She to bestow and he for to receive  
That which may make men stumble on his grave.   

On Grave; no, no, that cannot cover shame;  
It's but the bodies cover, frailties shrine,  
Which may remain as Monument of time,  
But little adds to th'honour of our name,  
For some thing else perpetuates our fame  
Then stone or varnish, for they soon decline;  
Where 
* Solae est atque vnic● virtus; neque datur dono, neque accipitur▪ Sallust.  virtues, (Odor-like) perfume the Dead,  
And make them live when they are buried.   

What freedom then to Marriage, if that rite  
Have right solemnisation; which t' adorn  
With seemly state consisteth not in form  
Only, but in the Minds affected right,  
Where either takes from other mutual light,  
Neither with spite nor spirit over-borne,  
Pure from depraved affection, which is bred  
Forth of a Lust unto a Marriagebed.   

Where Pro●idence makes her to study wife  
Ere she attain that Title, and doth sit  
Considering what may that state befit  
Ere she betake her to a married life,  
Resolving ne'er to make domestic strife,  
Caring for them be got, more than to git;  
Briefly, to solemnize this Nuptial rite,  
As being ever in her Maker's sight.   

Yea, this were freedom, and so blest a state  
As Single life were but a painted bliss  
To such an Essence; but to instance this  
Is rare on earth, so hard is humane Fate  
Which by our wills is grown prevaricate,  
Training us sooner far to do amiss  
Then to walk justly in the way that's right,  
" So weake's our will, so feeble is our might.   

Yet if in one this freedom may be found,  
Each man's to hope the best, not to despair,  
Because they're sown in every place so rare,  
But rather thus his confidence to ground,  
Though good decrease and ill-ones do abound,  
Yet there are ill and foul and good and fair;  
Of which, thy fate is ill, if she thou choose  
Be so transformed, as she be none of those.   

If worst of these, as foul and ill together,  
Yet of that foul and ill thou may make use  
To better thy defects by her abuse;  
And for her loathed foulness staying with her  
May thus resolve, that vice nor blemish neither  
Can force thee from her whom thou once didst choose;  
And this's the benefit thou shalt reap hence,  
Thou shalt (though dubbed) be crowned with patience.  
" Wives let such marry then as seem to need 'em,  
" And in their bondage make a show of freedom.   Sic perit experiens, experiéndo perit. 
FINIS.   

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HOBBINOLL the Ploughman, and Nathaniel Spruce the Gentleman; WHEREIN It is proved, how Rusticity hath advantage upon Gentry in the Liberty of Living.  Hobb: 
MAny good morrows to my Landlords heir;  Nath: 
The like to Hobbinoll, but pray thee tell well.  
What makes my Chuff to look so fat and fair,  
Thy plump-cheekes (Hobb) mine look not half so well.  Hobb: 
Not yours (young-maister)! there's no cause they should,  
Care kills a Cat, there's not a day you live  
But you have cares, I warrant, twenty fold  
More than we feel: for first, before you wive  
You must go● common with your nearest kin,  
And if they think it fit her portion be,  
With other things among well equalling,  
Perchance they will (if they be bribed) agree.  Nath: 
Bribed Hobb! why can none without bribing have her  Hobb: 
Not fitly Master; something has some savour▪  
And council well deserves to have his fee,  
For it's their living, and they must live by it;  Nath: 
Friends counsel's free;  Hobb: 
Nay, whosoe'er they be  
This you shall find probatum, if you'll try it,  
Brains are as good domains where there be brains  
And certain too, as any on our Down.  Nath: 
Indeed where friends make of their friends again.  Hobb: 
And pray you say, is that but seldom known?  
Yes, Master, there is one and one I know,  
For he is my doore-neighbour, and indeed  
A very Cricket, but of late did grow  
So very rich, that now for store of breed  
There is no Herdsman like him; yet his wealth  
Grew to this height by th' benefit he made  
Of his entirest friends: though, since his health  
Began to decay, he sorrows as it's said,  
And well he may, for ne'er did any Swain  
In such short time so great revenues gain.  Nath: 
Sorrow, good Hobbinoll, what causeth it!  Hobb: 
Why his estate Man, indirectly got;  
And he may thank his overweening wit  
For all his grief.  Nath: 
I took him for a Sot,  
A very Goseling, one that could do nought  
But prate of Sheepskins, or a breeding Ewe▪  Hobb: 
Yea, Master, but if he could profit aught,  
He would soon make a Goseling-bird of you,  
So acquaint he is, for I have throughly tried him,  
●s scarce a man can keep his own beside him.  Nath: 
It makes me wonder; but good Hobb: proceed,  
And prove what Liberty you have 'boue us  
That are your Lands-lords.  Hob: 
Shall I Sr indeed?  Nath: 
Yes pray thee Hobb;  Hob: 
Then I will prove it thus:  
We may go woo ilke week a sundry Wench,  
And none talk on't; but when you go to woo●  
There's such a stir as there is no defence  
Against report, for all must know it too.  
And than a thousand things are to be done,  
As jointures, f●offments, ere the match be made,  
Which (weal I wot) we never think upon,  
But lock and like, and then are bargained.  
And is it not, I pray you Master say,  
A shrude vexation to be barred our sport,  
By being crossed by such a long delay,  
And kept from that when we came thither for't●  Nath: 
Why man, our state requires mature advice,  
And better is that Match like to succeed,  
Where rashness hath no sway nor gets no prize  
Then such as yours that's finished with such speed.  Hob: 
Nay, Master, for success amongst such as you,  
If Truth were known, we should but find a few;  
But I may safely swear ere I were crossed  
Of her I loved, if she did fancy me  
I would lose whatsoe'er I prized most,  
And never stand upon't so curiously:  
Roundly to work we go without ere speech  
Of any feoffments▪ and we think we're sped  
Of state enough if we a Marriage reach,  
Though four bare legs are not enough in bed.  Nath: 
No by my Faith Hob: there is more to do  
Then name of Marriage, which is such a state  
As th'knot we tie we never can undo,  
Till it be loosed by th' ordinance of Fate.  Hob: 
Yes Master, such as you knows to dispense  
With such good holy things, for if there be  
Betwixt the married pair a difference,  
Then straight divorce is sewed and presently  
A Separation made; in which respect  
Hob must confess you have more freedom far  
Then such as he; for where we once affect,  
Without removing we are ever there.  Nath: 
Hob you are knavish growney but let that pass▪  
Proceed to show wherein our liberty  
Is less than yours.  Hob: 
I'll tell you Sr; time was▪  
But that was cleped a golden time, when we  
(As Shepherds used) might sport us on the Plain,  
Where Phyllis danced with Coridon the Swain;  
Each Shepherd culled his dear and colld her too,  
And in despite of Fate possessed that bliss  
Where they had time to chat, to sport, to woo,  
Where she did call him hers, and he her his:  
Then (o thrice happy then) nought was more loved  
Nor worthier loving than a virtuous life;  
Where sweet experience only that approved  
Was free from difference and exempt from strife▪  
Then were our fields so free we needed not  
Merestones or Buttells, for none durst approach  
With violent hands to seize on that we got,  
Or by deceit upon our Bounds encroach.  
But afterward (as aftertimes prove worse)  
A greedy kind of humour did possess  
The minds of Shepherds, altering quite the course  
Which they before held: being conscionlesse,  
Betrothed to no especial One, but all  
In a Community; where small distastes  
Made them remove their love, and so to shall  
To lavish their affections on Outcasts,  
Stale-mercenaries that their honour prise  
No more than Hackneys that are put to hire;  
Or l● ke our Neighbour eliot's, who device  
How to fulfil the height of their desire,  
How sinful ere the practice be they make  
Which for their lust they only undertake.  
Thus Shepherds grew, but for their low estate  
Being inferior to the better sort,  
Their vices were scarce taxed or pointed at,  
Till by report (what's swifter than report)  
The sundry mischiefs done upon the Plains,  
As by eyewitness daily did appear,  
Committed by the practice of those Swains,  
Came at the last to great Pandoxus ear.  
He, as a graceful Guardian, tendering still  
The state of Shepherds, yet much discontent  
His whilom honest Swains should grow so ill,  
Sent some choice men to give them chastisement;  
Which they received and kindly entertained,  
Admitting them to dwell amongst them too,  
And so they did, where they not long remained  
Till as the Swains did, they began to do;  
So as these goodly Tutors grew in time  
As ill, or worse then ere the Shepherds were;  
Vice h●gging-hanting Minions, who in prime  
And thus Pandoxus argued, nor could he  
For all his Princely virtues (as who ere  
Possessed more) wain his Nobility  
From th'vicious life wherein they nuzzled were.  
Yet what they did (as well Pandoxus said)  
Was quickly bruited; but what we committed  
The meaner Swains I mean, was silenced:  
For we, whose actions our conditions fitted,  
Were never noted whatsoe'er we did;  
Yea, what is more, none were more prone to speak  
Of great-man's errors, which were seldom hid,  
Then we, whose lives did like affections seek.  
For every day we drunk our Shepherds health  
In Wassell Cups, not caring for our Herds,  
How well or ill they fared, a fig for wealth,  
We made our chops wag, and our grisled beards,  
(Our Maister-Sheepherds) still discharged our score,  
And would have done't, if't had been ten times more.  Nath: 
Why, this was excellent, but pray thee say  
Were you ne'er chastised for't?  Hob: 
No, never We;  
We plied our merriments from day to day,  
And past our jolly lives as pleasantly  
As if we had been Lords, and they our slaves  
Whom we in duty served; yea, I may swear  
I ne'er received from Thyrsus any braves,  
But was esteemed of him and his so dear,  
That some have asked, seeing him use me so  
Whether I was his own, or that he meant  
On Hobbinol some daughter to bestow,  
And that, I'm half persuaded was his intent,  
For we were half agreed.  Nath: 
Pray thee tell true;  Hob: 
Yes marry Master, it may well appear  
That we were halfe agreed, I'll say to you,  
For I was well agreed to marry her.  Nath: 
What Hob conceited grown! but I will yield  
To thy Discourse, for I have oft times found  
By due experience, that the private field,  
Where th' careful husbandman manures his ground,  
Makes her poor farmer in a better state  
Than the Prime Lord: for he may merry be,  
Yet shall his actions ne'er be glanced at,  
For his low rank makes him from Rumour fro.  Hob: 
Yea Master, I'll ensure you, if he should  
(As when the drink i● in the wit is out)  
Throw house quite out at Windows, yet he would  
Be little talked of: but if you should do't  
Your name would soon be rumoured, for your place  
Would make men note you.  Nath: 
Most certain Hobbinol,  
Which should induce men of more generous race  
Choice and select society to cull,  
Since th' veriest slave that makes of time abuse,  
With us compared, advantage hath of us.  
FINIS.   

A Pastoral Eglogue between Cuddy and Rowie.  Rowie. 
WELE met is Cuddy man of ●ickle la'er,  
And mare he leaves may he have ●ver mare,  
For he's a bonny ging.  Cuddy. 
Rowie for shame  
Why dost thou ruse me, Thou art far to blame;  
Small is my la'er, my knowledge lile worth,  
When sick an one as Rowie bouteth forth.  Rowie. 
Ha Cuddy, but if any did but mell  
And tank sae barely on thee but the sell,  
We'll siker I'se that thou would pout full sour,  
And aught or laug there would be caps ath floor.  Cuddy. 
Thou's far misled; if I were sick an one  
I reed thee Rowie, I cudd have a Swain  
A buxom Hussie, that for tougher and good  
there's nane her fallow, and I her ha' wooed,  
And many laiking has she ta'en frame,  
Yet when we sud be yoked it will not be.  Rowie. 
Why, it's an and said sa, sick men as thou  
That knaws the mast, knows lile how to woo;  
For I have one a neighbour woning here  
wha has a son that ne'er this dozen year  
Has been at farran Scules, and now his Dad  
Crankie and worn wad have this Clerkly lad  
To boun him to a Wife, and sooth to say  
My daughter Tibb is she that he wouldhave ha'.  
But sick a wooing (Cuddy) seld was seen,  
He will not tell my Lass what he does mean,  
But taukes of Stars, and clipses of the Sun,  
An on a Man stands sta●ing i'th' the Moon,  
Of wether-gaws and many sick as these;  Cuddy. 
But weal I wait these will not Tibbie please.  Rowie. 
Na Cuddy na, she's but an ingrate thing,  
An lile recks for awe his conjuring:  
Ya I may sa thus long he sought the once,  
And I ne'er saw him buss her mare than ance.  Cuddy. 
The much Lummer's swaimish;  Rowie. 
he's indeed,  
But 'twill be long ere sick a Milk-sopp speed:  
He that will woe and win wha he does woo,  
Mun faun on her he makes his suit unto,  
●●ke Morn and Even he must his service do,  
And be right blithe, an she will taken it too;  
Bukes make not Lovers wise, for he that can  
Put himself forwardst is the speeding man.  Cuddy. 
Now is I weal advised, and sees how long  
I've gan● astray and wooed my Love awrang▪  
For awe the chat I used when I dud woo her,  
Was to make knawn my learning ever to her,  
And aye I thought that was the way to get her,  
Whereas I fu● that there was nane unfitter,  
For th'S●affish Carri● wouldhave not come near hand me;  Rowie. 
The cause was this, She cud not understand thee.  Cuddy. 
Rowie it's true, and I may rue the day,  
That I so fond learned the wooers way,  
But weal I trowed, but see how ill I sped,  
Wha ere I wooed, I mut as freely wed.  Rowie. 
A fault weal knawn ' mang th'trimmer gang of men  
Wha think whare they get an● they may get ten,  
But we shall find, though they're na chip the wiser,  
These elvish Harlottries are oft the nicer.  Cuddy. 
Alesse for wae, I ne'er knew any fair,  
But trowed themsels far fairer than they were;  
For this's a true said Saw ' mang womanhood,  
" She knaws but lile that knaws not to be proud.  Rowie. 
Ruse women Cuddy, if thou mean to speed,  
For kindly words will stand thee in good stead;  
They are th' weaker ging, and yet we see  
They oft-time prove to be as strange as we.  Cuddy. 
In will they are.  Rowie. 
Then Cuddy buckle still  
Sin● they are strangst in will, to do their will.   

THE PARROTS SPRING.  
Psittacus ut vocem rapuit Prometheus ignem.  

Stolen waters be the sweetest, may th' Parrot say,  
Whose borrowed note and Coat his truth bewray:  
But it's prodigious for Fowls to sing  
Of Woodcocks caught within a Parrots spring.    

UPON THE OTHER BANK directly opposite, stood Pan the Arcadian God in Porphyrite, curiously featured: who ●namoured of the beauteous Nymph Syrinx, had her in eager pursuit: upon the fringe of the Border was this Motto engraven.  

Vt vidi ut perij.  
Pan deus Arcadiae correptus amore, Syringem  
insequitur, fugit illa, Syrinx hinc fistula dicta est.   
Englished,  

The Shepherd's God with 
* Inter 〈◊〉 irgines quae D●s petuntiús solitabantur, aphnidem, assandram ● Syringemrum votis nicè obsti●sse tradi●● est.  Syrinx beauty ta'en,  
Had her in chase, whence pipes from Syrinx came.  
If pipes proceeded from restraint of ill,  
Play pipe, mount May-poule, we'll be frolic still.   
FINIS.    

The second part.  

EBRIUS EXPERIENS; OR The Drunkard's humour.  
SOme say I drink too much to write good lines; 
T●ssoes Apollogie transcribe wherein a Drunkard Humour 〈◊〉 to life described.   
Indeed I drink, more to observe the Times,  
And for the love I bear unto my friend  
To hold him chat, than any other end:  
Yea, my Observance tells me I have got  
More by discoursing sometimes o'er a Pot,  
Then if I had good-fellowship forsook,  
And spent that hour in poring on a book.  
And this's the cause (we see it now and then)  
" The greatest Clerks are not the wisest men:  
Which is confirmed by Times-experienced School,  
" The merest Scholar proves the merest fool.  
But canst thou love? to satisfy his choice,  
I told him Yes, feigning a Woman's voice:  
For I had so much sense left in my brain,  
As I resolved to try his Cupping vain;  
Then up he counts (though wine of wit had reft him)  
How many farms his Father now had left him,  
All which (quoth he) must to our heirs succeed,  
Which I found true, for All came up indeed:  
Beside, and happy may that word betide,  
" For of that All came up, some fell beside,  
Which, if it had not had a speedy vent,  
Had gone well niet'haue drowned his beauteous Saint.  
Thus lay we long like Images of death,  
Whilst the fat Lubber pressed me underneath;  
Stir could I not, so motionless was I,  
Whilst he did college and kiss melovingly;  
Yea, I am persuaded, if the Drawer had not come,  
As good hap was, into our forlorn room,  
By kisses store (so kind a heart had he)  
He had gone ne'er in time to stifle me,  
For breathless I could neither speak nor move me,  
So heavy was the Block that lay above me.  
At last released, and both upon our feet,  
To quench the passion of our Lovesick heat,  
On terms of friendship, now to make an end,  
I was conjured by my Kissing friend  
To pledge him but one Health, and then depart,  
Which if I did Is ' de ever have his hart,  
I gave assent; the Health, five senses were,  
(Though scarce ●ne sense did 'twixt us both appear)  
Which as he drunk I pledged; both pledged & drunk,  
Seeing him now full-charged, behind I shrunk,  
Whilst he his meaning copiously displayed,  
And in the Chimney all his senses laid.  
Nay, than good-night (quoth I) I will not stay  
With him that casts his senses so away,  
For this in me Experience begitts,  
" He cannot love his friend that loathes his wits.  
Yet as a friend I caused him to be led,  
In a magestick sort unto his bed,  
For having left his senses there behind him,  
I placed him there, that they next Morn might find him.  
" Thus much for Humours which so divers be,  
" As in each Subject there's variety,  
" All which observed with apprehensive eyes,  
" May add unto the knowledge of the wise;  
For weake's his judgement or deprau'd's his will,  
" Cannot extract good from apparent ill.  
FINIS.   

The Old-man's Hearse; OR The Youngman's jubilee.  
joy appears in midst of tears.  
Hearest thou not Vitulino, who is dead!  
Thy father man; nay, hang not down thy head  
Like to a Bulrush: there's no cause at all  
That thou so childishly should moon his fall  
Whose falls thy rising; for He wished to die.  
Yea, and to put his Soul in jeopardy,  
With his injurious course to make thee rich,  
Or thy wrong Fathered Imps he cared not which:  
But what is that to thee, thou needest not care,  
How his sin-pricked-pressed soul doth fare;  
The Proverb is, how ere th'effect seem evil,  
" happy's that Son, whose Father goes to th' Devil.  
Yet shed some feigned tears; but I do fear,  
The art not so tender-hearted, therefore hear  
What thou shalt do; put on a Vergis-looke,  
And tie an Onion in thy Napkins nook,  
Which will enforce thee weep, (right sure I am)  
And make thee seem a tender-hearted man?  
But many things its fitting thou should have,  
To bring Him honestly unto his Grave;  
As first, though He was first that ere expressed,  
His Gentry by his Coat or by his Crest,  
Thou must provide some Herald that may draw  
His late-unknowne descent, and by the Law  
Of Arms may Gentilize the Peasant so,  
As you for Gentlemen may after go.  
Which, that each thing may be in order done,  
Let th' Herald rank the Mourners one by one,  
Where some poor snakes that cottage on thy Land  
May carry each a Scutcheon in their hand,  
And seem to mourn, though they were much to blame  
To mourn his death that sought to beggar them.  
But some Divine thou must have to commend  
His zealous life, and his Religious end;  
Which task, as it thy bounty doth require,  
" For th' Labourer is worthy of his hire,  
Clapp me a brace of Angels in his fist,  
And that will make him say, Thy Father's blessed,  
Though his corrupted Conscience say no,  
For what is it good Angels will not do?  
O how he'll make the Church ring with his praise,  
Entitling Him, the Mirror of his days,  
A Patron of pure justice, one, whose door  
Was thronged still with crowding of the poor,  
(Without least crumb of comfort) being known,  
To be the Almsbasket of the Town.  
And then He ' le fain a tear, and wish to see  
The happy end of many such as He;  
And he has cause to wish it, for their death  
Might gild in time his mercenary breath.  
Then He ' le descend to man's Mortality,  
Which He ' le dilate on as historically;  
" Where's good Aeneas, Tellus, Ancus he  
" That was so rich? as other Mortals be,  
" Consumed to dust, so as that supreme bliss  
" They placed in Wealth, 's reduced to rottenness.  
And will not this do bravely? when a Swine  
That ne'er did one good deed in all his time,  
But grunting in his Sty, or in his Stall,  
Near fed 
* Mi●●m pe●it Lazarus & 〈◊〉 non datur, guttam Dives postulat & non ●uditur.  starved soul but at his Funeral,  
Must be canonised Saint! thrice blessed gold,  
That art so sovereign to eternize mould,  
And make corruption glorious, whose esteem  
Can make our foulest vices virtues seem!  
Where an Incarnate Devil that did shone  
The sight of God is made an Angel on,  
Transposed from earth to heaven; yet ten to seven  
In all his life He scarce once thought on Heaven.  
Now when he has thy Father's virtues showed,  
Wilt thou not think thy Angels well bestowed?  
Yes Vitulino, and will make this use  
Of his depraved Doctrine: Timès abuse  
Drawn from oppression, injury, and wrong,  
May purchase praises from a hirelings tongue,  
Sooner than best deservings; which may be  
A motive to thy own Security,  
Observing how Opinion ofttimes gives  
" Best name to him that most securely lives.  
This done, & now the s●ope-sleu'd mourning gown●  
Is from his sable Pulpit coming down,  
And thy worme-breeding Father's to be laid  
In his last home, there must a Tomb be made  
Of Porphyrite Marble, or the Thracian stone,  
To memorise his Worship being gone;  
Whereon t'engraue some verse, were not amiss,  
T'express his worth, as such an one as this.  
" Demas died rich they say, but 'tis not so, 
Upon the late deceased Pinchgut Demas.   
" For he died poor, and was indebted too;  
" How should that be? observe me & I'll tell ye  
" He died indebted both to back and belly,  
" For all He scraped from his Attorneys fees,  
" Served but starve his maw with bread and cheese:  
" So as amongst those we rightly may him call.  
" Whose life spent less than did his Funeral.  
" For all his life his house scarce eat one beast,  
" Yet dead, his Son makes up the Churl's feast.  
This Monument when thou erected haste,  
And on the front a Plate of Brass hast placed,  
With this Inscription, or one of like sort,  
(But Epitaphs indeed should be more short)  
Let this same Tomb where thou thy Father lay  
Be th'place of payment on each festival day;  
For't would delight the old Chrone but to hear  
His Son and heir to make his Chequer there:  
Besides chinke, chinke's a Miser's heaven on earth,  
And therefore now when He is in the dearth  
Of comfort, it were good t'allay his pain  
With sight of that would raise him up again.  
But now to thee, who like Stericyd●s  
Canst draw Sun, Moon, and Stars what way thou please  
With thy guilt Jacob's staff, me thinks I see,  
By calculating thy nativity  
In thee (yet I'm no Wizard) Midas Fat●  
" That starved himself to better his estate.  
Yet thou'lt descend to th' Lapp of Danae,  
Mall, Bess, coy Kate, or bashful Barbary,  
In showers of gold, and then will wish and woo,  
But still with gold, for else thou knowst not how;  
And promise all content, as curious fare,  
Gorgeous attire, and pleasures 'boue compare,  
Destilled ambers, pearled broths, and th' fruit  
Which wretched Adam tasted; for no doubt  
" Women do love that fruit which is denied them  
" More than all proffered fruit that grows beside them.  
But what's this Vitulino? Dost not know,  
A wanton Wench will not be pleased so?  
A toothless Hag perchance, whose only Bliss  
Consists in hoarding, will like well of this,  
And will adore thy Golden-calfe, for she  
In other joys has no felicity▪  
But such, whose prime of years, and pride of youth,  
Graced with a smile as blithe, a skin as smooth,  
Charmed with Love-whispring tales, Love-piercing eyes,  
Rapt with delight of dreaming fantasies,  
Wedded to love, not wealth, content, not gold,  
Being so free as riches cannot hold,  
Nor power restrain, scorn with their heels to have  
Their uncontrolled affections made a slave  
To dung or dross, where love is ofttimes crossed,  
The most in that where it possesseth most.  
And yet how sovereign is't to see a chest  
Rammed with whole heaps of gold; O she is blest  
That may possess so glorious a Saint!  
Indeed she were if there were no content  
But in possessing; but alas we find  
There is another Secret in the mind,  
That passeth earth, such difference do we feel,  
'Twixt Pluto's Court, and Plato's Commonweal.  
Yet boast thou may, that thou art one of those  
That hast to gild thy friends, to gall thy foes;  
For who will not attend thee and bestow  
Their best observance on thy trencher too,  
And cap and knee this Isis Ass of wealth,  
●and cry,- The Lord preserve your worship's health?  
But if thou'de look into the inner man,  
And th' treasure He enjoys, I doubt me than,  
Thou wouldst complain, and thy estate deplore,  
To see thy Soil so rich, thy Soul so poor,  
Indeed I must confess th' haste wealth at will,  
Store of possessions, and increasest still  
Thy large-inhanced rends; but (pray thee) can  
These (of themselves) make thee a happy man▪  
No Vitulino, for when Time shall come,  
Thy pomp must be reduced to a Tomb,  
A shrouding sheet, a silly clott of clay,  
And all those Summer-gnats are flown away,  
(Thy feigned friends I mean) wealth cannot bail thee  
From those tormenting pangs that shall assail thee.  
Where's then thy 
* Aurum e●si volueris, forte non h●bebis: Deu● cum uólueris, habebis. Aug.  Gold, those Lands lay here and there,  
Perchance possessed by another Heir  
Than He for whom thou aimed them; yea 'tmay be  
That He thou hated most (as oft we see)  
Claims to be thy Successor! and can this  
That adds grace to our foes, include our bliss▪  
It cannot; therefore hear me ere I leave thee,  
My lines shall say, I love thee, though I grieve thee.  
Take an 
* Sat filiu● ipse p●renti in patris ex●●iplum.  example by that faithless jew,  
Whose soul I fear (and o I doubt too true  
Is my religious fear) who had the name  
Of an Oppressor: though from him thou came,  
Trace not his steps; let charitable deeds  
Be those renewing and reviving seeds  
Which blossom in thy soul; remember hence  
" No grief like to a wounded Conscience.  
Make not the Widow weep, the Orphan cry,  
Sith every tear that falleth from her eye,  
Is botteld by the Lord; relieve the poor  
Out of the great abundance of thy store;  
Make 
* Non remittitur peccatum, donec restituitur ablatum.  restitution with good Zebedee  
Of what thy Father got injuriously;  
" So Fame acknowledging herself thy Debtor,  
" Shall say, ●●nce proved the Son the Father's better.  
FINIS.   

The Eye.  

Clear is my eye and yet my eye is dim,  
Because the Object of my sight is sin.   Menippus and Mercator. Menip. 
Help (Reverend Chremes) help what shall I do?  
Mine eyes, mine eyes.  Mer. 
How now, what's matter now?  Menip. 
Oh Chremes help me with your Spectacles,  
I have such pain and dimness in mine eyes.  Mer. 
Dimness my Son, some cloud, some pannickle,  
Some Cataract, perhaps it's but some pearl.  
Puluis Benedictus, the Collirium  
I cleped jerosollimitanum  
Were excellent; Oculus Christi's sure.  Menip. 
True, but my sickness has indeed no cure.  Mer. 
Why thine eyes well.  Menip. 
No, there's before mine eye  
A web, a mist, so rank, I cannot spy  
A Thief, that takes my Purse before my face;  
A Lecher may from's friend get special grace,  
A wink, a nod, a foot, a wring, a kiss,  
Sent by some Child, yet I see none of this.  
The price of Pepper, Cloves and Mace this year  
And what's like either to be cheap or dear,  
In each place of the habitable world,  
Such wondrous help these spectacles afford.  
Thou seest what store of Sables there shall come  
From Rhezan, spotted Armines' from the Donn.  
Thou seest when wars betwixt the Turk shall rise  
And Sophy, then, than brass will bear good prize.  
Thou seest the sugar Canes in China too,  
Silk rank as grass, which makes thee hunt out so  
The North-West passage to preserve the men  
That thither may return, but two of ten  
From this loved Golgatha. A hundred weight  
Of Sugar six pence! why, who would not fraught  
With all the elements to get to japon,  
A Marchpane three times cheaper than a Capon.  
Oh happy Eyes, which certainly will soon  
Discover next new nations in the Moon,  
And what commodity, what quintessence  
Of newer traffic may be had from thence.  Mer. 
What dost thou mock me now? Thou meager spy▪  
Got by consent of some Anatomy,  
I'll teach ye jest at a Magnifico. 
This is spoken as 〈◊〉 i● going ●way in a ●hafe: expressing ●he testy Nature of Age. ●mprecatio.   Exit. Menip. 
What are ye gone? stay, let my blessing go along with thee; may, may thy graceless son,  
Of all that thou dishonestly hast won,  
Not leave a groat: let him make ducks and drakes  
Too of thy money, that their flight may take  
Into the coffers of safekeeping Thames,  
Then let him lavish out all that remains  

It is here to be understood, the reason why the Satirist directs his imprecation not to himself, but to his son; ●t is because nothing can be said to an old man, that will so soon move hi● patience concerning himself, being upon the point of going hence; as the malediction of his son, in whom are laid up all his hopes, and resemblance of a new life in his posterity: in whom he may be said to live after death, as he derived from him naturally, breath.  To lull his senses in a Lethargy  
Of pleasure cureless, until beggary,  
Nip him by th'sleeve and make him try a friend  
In vain for sixpence; (for, but few will lend  
Great sums to desperate debtors): last of all,  
Let him die leprous in an Hospital.  
I. H.  
FINIS.   

¶ Upon Fortune.  
FOrtune, who calls thee blind is not to blame,  
For so much is imported by thy name;  
Worth thou respects not: he that doth inherit  
Thy blind estate is one of least demerit;  
Who knows not worth, but's wont to derogate  
From style of Man, to better his estate.  
Fondling that fawns on greatness, I detest  
To be by thee or thy vain favours blest;  
For if I should, who live in Wisdom's School,  
Would gather hence I were some brainsick fool  
That had no means (for so they would report me)  
But just as purblind Fortune did support me.  
And what were I then but a garish Ass,  
That casts a perfume where he's wont to pass;  
protesting (vain protests) he has betrayed,  
A Lady's honour by her Chambermaid;  
Swears by his silken sins, he can dispense  
With faith, friend, promise, soul, and Conscience;  
To make his way more clear, more eminent,  
Unto his Courtly Puppet, his fair Saint;  
Whose only glory is to vaunt of sin,  
" And as he boasts of her, she feeds on him!  
O World, how vain is he that doth r●ly  
Upon thy feigned, forged flattery;  
When best deserts (so thin is merit sown)  
Are to degrees of worst opinion grown?  
When Time affords no joy but unto such,  
As are esteemed for having overmuch;  
And younger Brothers, only heirs of wit  
For want of means, are forced to silence it!  
" Farewell imperious Mole, I do defy thee,  
" Since none but wittols can be favoured by thee.  
FINIS.   

¶ Upon Mya.  

IF Mya live, as she is said to live,  
Why doth she dye? nay, that's her least of care,  
If you mean Death; no, I do mean her hair,  
far from that dye which Nature did it give;  
For't was of jettie hue, which if you note  
Is coloured now as white as any Goat.   

Wonder of ages; be there any such,  
As in contempt of Nature garnish art?  
Sure such a changelings hair must have a heart  
As changing! true, but this doth little touch  
Your lustful sensual Dame, whose only aim,  
Is to gain pleasure with the loss of shame.   

Thou purple-purfled●powdred Idol thou,  
Whose Beauty is lust's booty, and whose skin  
Is honour's stain, whose soul is sold to sin,  
Exposed to shame; thou that erects a stew  
To brothel in: why wilt thou be arrayed  
So Strumpetlike, yet would be styled a Maid?   

Thou that dost woe man with a wand'ring eye,  
Bare-bathed breast, which to enforce delight,  
Is no true native but adulterate white,  
That daily dies, yet hopes thou ne'er shall die;  
Sum up thy follies, and try all alone  
If thou canst answer of a thousand one.   

But what is this to thee, whose impudence  
(So dangerous are habits) makes thee now,  
Secure of world's shame and vengeance too;  
For Letharg-like the sensual lose all sense,  
Drenched in the source of pleasures, which doth grieve them,  
Ere to forgo till they be forced to leave them.   

And so art Thou; yet Mya thou hast time,  
Which used, redeems the time that thou hast lost,  
Reformed in that wherein thou erred most.  
Which will revive that drooping soul of thine:  
Who in herself dejected seems to be,  
Because thy Body's more esteemed than she.   
FINIS.   

❧ The Sign in Cancer.  
ACrabbed Shrew through sickness weakly brought,  
Wished by all means a Doctor might be sought,  
Who by his Art that he her grief might know,  
Felt both her pulse, and cast her water too;  
Which done, He to her Husband turned again,  
And wished him be content, all was in vain:  
For when the sign's in Cancer she should die;  
To whom her Husband answered presently;  
" If that my learned Doctor had been so,  
She had been dead believe it long ago:  
For these ten years and odd she has been mine,  
And I ne'er knew yet out of that Sign.  
FINIS.   

Hymen's Eglogue betwixt Admetus and Menalchas.  Menal. 
WHat makes Admetus sad, what ere it be,  
Some cause there is that thus hath altered thee;  
Is it the loss of substance or of friends,  
Or thy content in discontentment ends:  
Is it some scruple in thy conscience,  
Which unresolved doth leave thee in suspense;  
Is it that thou thy long-wished Love should lose?  Admet. 
No no, Menalchas it is none of these.  Menal. 
Thou art not sick;  Admet. 
Nor sick, nor greatly well.  Menal. 
Where lies thy grief?  Admet. 
My countenance will tell;  Menal. 
Smooth is thy brow, thy count'nanc'e fresh enough:  Admet. 
But cares have made my wreakful mind as rough;  Menal. 
Of cares Admetus!  Admet. 
Yes I have my share:  Menal. 
Yet hope of cure;  Admet. 
No hope of cure to care.  Menal. 
Nay then I see 'tis love that thee doth wring:  Admet. 
Thou errs Menalchas, it is no such thing.  Menal. 
If therefore loss of friends, nor loss of wealth,  
Want to enjoy thy love, nor want of health,  
If neither discontent nor grief do show  
Care in thy face, nor sorrow in thy brow,  
If thou be free, as we all know thee free,  
Engaged to none, what is it grieveth thee?  Admet. 
Wouldst know Menalchas?  Menal. 
Yes;  Admet. 
I'll tell thee than;  
" The case is altered, I'm a married man.  
FINIS.   

❧ Hymen's Choice.  

Fair may she be, but not opinioned so,  
For that opinion ever lackeys pride;  
Loving to all, yet so, as Man may know,  
She can reserve the proper name of Bride:  
For weak that fort, and easy is't to win,  
That makes a Breach for all to enter in.   

I'd have her face and blush to be her own,  
For th'blush which Art makes is adulterate,  
Spleen may she have, yet wise to keep it down,  
Passion, yet Reason too to moderate:  
Comely not gaudy, she and none but she  
Wears the best clothes, that wears to her degree.   
FINIS.   

❧ Love's Description.  
Love, what's thy name? a frenzy; whenc'e thy birth?  
From heaven; how comes it then thou lives on earth?  
I live not there; yet each usurps thy name:  
It's true indeed, but hence redounds their shame!  
I live not there, my Nature's pure and just,  
But lust lives there, and love's a foe to lust.  
FINIS.   

An HYMN thalassical, OR NUPTIAL; implying Two worths included in one Name, Paradoxally intimating the true happy State of contented LOVE.  
WHat I have, that I crave,  
Frank I lost, yet Frank I have;  
Happy am I in possessing  
Of her that gives Love a blessing:  
Blessed love 'boue earthly rank,  
Stated in my style of Frank,  
Happy style that thinks no shame  
In respect of nature, name,  
Form, affection, and in all  
To be Frank, as we her call.  
Yet so frank, that though she be  
Free, it's in such modesty,  
As no Creatures are, have been,  
Can, or may tax her of sin.  
Pure in Love, sincere in heart,  
Fair by Nature, not by Art,  
Crimson blushes which display▪  
Reddest even makes clearest day;  
Clearest, where like Ida's snow  
Lilies on her cheeks do grow;  
Yet so mixed with true delight,  
As the red contends with white;  
Yet ore'commed with Modesty,  
red o'er white gets victory.  
Thus two Franks in beauty one,  
Yields enough to dote upon;  
Equal both in favour, feature,  
Honour, order, name and nature;  
Both inclining to one stature,  
Equalled by no earthly creature.  
For if I should paint them out,  
From the head unto the foot,  
I should make you then confess  
They were earthly Goddesses:  
And that Nature made these two,  
As those Mirrors which might show  
Her perfection and her store,  
Challenging, who could give more!  
Thus both equal in one letter,  
One to either, neither better;  
Twinlike seem as Time had fixed them,  
As two Spheres not one betwixt them;  
Yet if needs one th' best do crave,  
In my thoughts it's she I have:  
She, whose virtues do excel  
As they seem imparalell;  
Modest, yet not too precise,  
Wise, yet not conceited wise;  
Still in action, yet her will  
Is so pure it ne'er acts ill;  
Virgin-modest, yet delights  
To discourse of Hymen's rights;  
Yet she blushes when she hears,  
Aught that's light sound in her ears;  
And with skarlet-die displays,  
What to Women yields most praise:  
For praiseworthy 'tis in women,  
To blush at that Act is common;  
Since in speech those actions show  
Ill, which modest are to do;  
For a Maid should be afraid,  
Hearing th'loss of Maidenhead.  
With this Poem, and a Pearl  
Sent to Frank my faithful Girl;  
I conclude with friendly vow,  
To my Frank her neighbour too.  
FINIS.   

An Elegiac Sonnet.  

IF I only had been he,  
That had stood so far aloof,  
Or had been such Armour proof,  
Died I had not as you see  
Shot by Woman's jealousy.   

Wretched Woman why should Thou  
Dote so much on Idoll-beautie,  
Deeming only fit to suit thee,  
When it is not one nor two,  
Nor a thousand more will do?   

Yet Love loves not these exchanges,  
Love is constant, firm, and pure,  
Drawn by no eye-charming lure;  
It is lust that only ranges,  
Where new love old love estraunges.   

What is life then but a farm,  
And the best a farmer is  
Of this life he counts a Bliss,  
Where true love sustains no harm,  
Ne●e engaged to Fancies charm!   
FINIS.   

THE WIDOW BRIDE.  
To the accomplished Lady of his thoughts M. E. T. exquisite receit of all divine virtues; The complete issue of her selectedst desires.  
Feeding I famish, fired by thy eye,  
Which makes me dying live, and living die.  

Fair shall I name thee, to express thy worth!  
Nay, thou hast something else to se● thee forth,  
Then thy external beauty, which no time  
Shall ere deface, and that is truly thine.  
Though outward white graced with an inward fair,  
Unite in one, exceedeth all compare.  
For what may glorious Saints, whose divine feature  
Immortalised above an humane Creature,  
Appropriate unto themselves save this,  
Though they're invested with the robe of bliss!  
Pure is their Stole, the State of innocence,  
Full be their Lamps of divine influence,  
Complete's their Armour, and their order too,  
" Thus they attend the Lamb where ere he go.  
And thou terrestrial Angel, who canst give,  
(Though young) example to the old to live,  
Divines what thou shalt be: for I do see,  
All sacred Graces' treasured in thee;  
As in some curious artful Cabinet,  
Where Patience shines as a rich jewellet  
Set in a precious Tablet, which may best  
Allusion have to thy unspotted breast,  
Where virtues have their Mansion: should I speak  
More freely of thy Merits? I will seek  
No modern Model to conform the State  
Of my affections, or will imitate  
Any with affectation, but that grace  
Which thou reserves in action, speech, and pace.  
Honour of ages, what a Sympathy  
Of soule-enthroning virtues works in thee,  
To make thee more affected● Where desire  
Of Moderation tempers th' heat of ire;  
Content all selfe-repining, and delight  
To see another prosper, that base spite  
Which worldly Moles express from day to day,  
In seeing others flourish more than they.  
No, thou art Earthly Sainted, and canst taste  
What fruits in Mundane pleasure being past,  
When this same Circle of our humane bliss  
Qui●e run about, shall end with wretchedness  
And is not this above th'conceit of Man,  
That thou the weaker sex shouldst seem to span,  
This abstract of thy life with such respect  
Unto thy soul formed by that Architect,  
Whose glory is thy aim? Nay, that thy prime  
Scarcely arrived at th' freshness of her time,  
Should so disvalue Earth, as to bestow  
Thy heart on Heaven, thy frailer part below.  
Where life like to a shade, whose vading glory  
Sums up our discontents as in a Story,  
Gets disesteem with thee, fixing thine eye  
Upon a more transcendent Emporie.  
But that which shall extend thy days more long  
Than time can limit, is thy suffering wrong,  
Smiling at injuries, as if thy breast  
Were of that temper, griefs could not molest,  
Nor soil her glorious Mansion, but appears  
More eminent by th' Injuries she bears.  
I've heard indeed, some Woman's Nature's such  
As they can hardly ever bear too much;  
The sense whereof, howsoever our Critics take it,  
May be confirmed in thee; for thou dost make it  
The Trophy of thy Triumph, and the Crown  
Of all thy Conquest, to be only known  
Thyself in thy affliction, where relief  
" In Souls sole solace gives receipt to grief.  
" For Palms pressd down do ever rise the more,  
" And Spices bruised smell sweeter than before.  
So as this Sentence verifide may be,  
Thou tires affliction, not affliction thee.  
Mirror of Women, what a triumph's this,  
When there is nought how great soe'er it is  
That can depress thy Mind below the Sphere  
Where it is fixed! For 'tis this I swear,  
And only this, which moves me to affect  
Thyself far more than any light respect,  
Drawn from the tincture of a moving fair,  
Which to minds beauty's short above compare.  
For I have known the smoothest sleekest skin,  
Soiled with the blemish of so foul a sin  
As Beauty lost her lustre by that stain,  
Which once made black could ne'er be white again.  
But Thou in both complete, art such an one  
As without assentation there is none  
May glory more of what she doth possess,  
Though on my knowledge none doth glory less.  
And happy he if he had known his hap,  
Who might repose in such a Lady's lap,  
Secure from censure: but how weak is sense  
When Reason's darkened through Concupiscence!  
Alas of Error; that our humane eye,  
Exposed to lust and boundless liberty,  
Should derogate from Man: where if we knew  
How Woman's to expect from Man her dew▪  
As Man from Woman; we should straight infer  
" To think of a strange beauty, is to err.  
He who did till those flowery fields, which lay  
Like Adonis' grove ne'er to the Mllkie Way,  
If he had known what happiness it is  
In mutual love t'enjoy a mutual bliss,  
Where two dividuate Souls do selfely move  
By one united Sympathy in love;  
He would have thus concluded sure I am,  
" Who dotes on more then's own is less than Man.  
But now to thee my lines their love extend,  
Making thyself their Centre where they end.  
" Thou mildest mould of Matron Modesty,  
" Live as Thou livest and gain eternity;  
Patience shall give thee convoy, fame renown,  
Both which contend to reach thee triumphs Crown.   
FINIS.   

TO HIS MUCH ESTEEMED FRIEND Sr G. D. Knight; The accomplished issue of his best wishes.  
IF promise be, as it is said to be  
A Debt, you may expect the like of me;  
Which though it be not paid, it shall be done  
And then your quittance for my Corydon.  
Receive him Sr. for trust me he's your own,  
And one that will be known where you are known;  
Whom if you cherish (as I hope you will)  
From year to year he'll better's running still,  
And grow in time to be a Dog of prize,  
And scorn to spend his mouth in common cries;  
For time will come (as I persuaded am)  
When he'll be heard and hallowed too of Pan.  
Yours assured, R. B.   

CORYDON, OR The Western-Huntsman.  

THe game's afoot: see how the Huntsmen run,  
Each caps his Hound, but chiefly Corydon;  
Still goes the voice on him, nor doth it rest,  
Till it disperse itself from East to West:  
To it Western-Huntsman to it,  
Prize is thine, great Pan doth know it,  
Who vouchsafed to lend his eye,  
And his Ear unto the Cry.   

Blaze not the fame-spred chase of Marathon,  
Of hilly Oeta, heathie Calydon,  
For th' cheerful coasts of peaceful albion,  
May show New-market, Roiston, Mar●bon;  
And boast as much upon their game  
As any one could do of them,  
And amongst their Dogs not one  
Could match matchless Corydon.   

Cease Poets cease, so much to dote upon  
The strains of Linus, Orpheus, Amphyon;  
What could they do our Huntsmen cannot do,  
move rocks, tame Tigers, make woods hearken too▪  
This they can do, and more if need  
Make our herds surcease to feed,  
Hills to answer to the Plain  
Woods to echo them again.   

Nay, what is more, succeeding times may sing,  
That these delights were followed by a King,  
And such a King whose knowledge did descry  
That he was nursed by winged Mercury:  
Great must this pleasure needs be then,  
That is esteemed by such men,  
Whose opinion ought to stand  
For a Maxim in the Land.   

And if we should make choice of any sense  
To give content, none hath like excellence  
Unto the ear, for it instructs us how  
What's fit know, to hear, to speak, to do:  
And yet we have both eye and ear  
As equally confined there;  
As if Nature these did cull  
For to make our sport more full.   

And for their habit, as it seems to me,  
They wear their Mother's earths own livery,  
Most comely and least gaudy; as before  
Our fig-leaued Parents in the Garden wore.  
Thus may we see, if we will see,  
There's none has like antiquity,  
When the first, as forced with shame  
weaved them green, and wore the same.   

To prove of what esteem these Woodmen were  
It's said that jove became a Forester,  
And thought no colour could more moving be,  
To gain the love of flame-scorched Semele;  
Then in a youthful green arrayed  
To sue for love unto the Maid,  
Though (fond Girl) this would not do  
Till he came in glory too.   

The Delian Votress with her Nymph-like train  
Follow their Hounds till that the game be slain,  
Where speckled Ibis, mennaled Dorcas lead,  
And bloody Rugg with Rhesus coupled;  
Make hot pursuit and hold the chase  
Treble, Mean, countertenure, base,  
Different size and different note  
Some cold-sented others hot.   

Thus eye, ear, habit, colour, and esteem  
Makes this delight, as it hath ever been  
Princely, where Pan himself deigns to descend  
To cheer his care, and for no other end.  
Happy you Sylvans that abide,  
Where such true royal Huntsmen ride,  
Who awhile do leave the Court  
In the Lawns to have some sport.   
make the whole Subject of their Discourse, invection, or which is worse, personal aspersion. But such, whose inbred love to goodness, hath implanted in them such affection to good men, and such zealous hate to the vicious: that if they were removed from the All-seeing eye of Heaven, and the suspicious search of earth; yet they would express their love to Goodness, in the lowest vault of darkness. For these I am, and may I ever be their Corrivals: for aspiring to be great in the Court of virtue, is a glorious ambition. Now for such, whose conceits grounded on error, judge whatsoever we write to have no other aim then popular: 
I'd have them know, I'm none of these that seem  
To build their hopes on other men's esteem.   
As my Object is good in general, so my subject is free and generous; far from such mercenary Factors, or hireling Brokers, who set at sale the stale commodity of their Labours: for these must taste of vulgar froth, or they are not vendible▪ yet they will profess (how odious soe'er be their profession) that they have drunk deep of the juice of Helicon, and by unutterable raptures can extract the life and Elixir of Poesy. Such as these (for these were they who formerly blemished the glory of so divine an Art) caused one of the Fathers in great indignation to term Poetry the Divells-wine; venting whatsoever the love of gain, or their distempered brains had invented. Excellently might those punishments be moralised, which were inflicted on Stesichorus inveighing against Helen, on Aristophanes against Cleon, Eupolus against Alcibiades, Calisthenes against Alexander: where the Satire pronounced on himself a censure; But I will address my Pen to such, whose meriting Labours have gained them deserved esteem. And Aristippus-like) have ever grounded their Subject on virtue; preferring the mind's lustre, before the Bodies cover. Neither affection nor affectation had power to remove these from their Anchor: for as Passions were the Billows they bickred with, and did encounter; so virtue was their Landmark, where, after long Sail, they expected Harbour. Here shows Homer himself an heroic Sophocles; and there Sophocles a tragic Homer: where the wide world was their Theatre, vice their Subject of reproof, virtue their Trophy of renown. These deserved memorials above the date of time; Monuments more lasting then Age. Metals are of short perpetuity; These, because eternised by virtue, succeed to eternity. My wish is, that my oil may be so employed, that you (Gentlemen) whose judgements are unblemished, conceits refined, and from vulgar opinion far divided; may in perusal of my Works rest pleased. 
Time's broad-spred Curtain I have drawn in part,  
Next draught shall shadow it with far more art.  Mean time, receive this, which promiseth a greater, when opportunity shall afford more leisure.  
FINIS.    

¶ Upon Censure.  

WEll, ill, or neither, but indifferent,  
How ere your censure be I am content;  
For he's a fawning fool, the World's minion,  
That only writes to gain himself opinion.   Sacra Poaesis Musica mentis. 
FINIS.   

ERRATA'ES are grown so familiar with Books, as they become their Appendices; Correct only such as corrupt the sense▪ for Literal errors, they march in such ranks and squadrons, as they seem incorrigible.  

ERRATA.  
IN Charact. of Grief, page 3▪ for skin, sin. for banish, vanish▪ ibid. in Riches, Page 2. for adoring, adorning: for but, nor▪ ibid. in Fate, Page ult. for Pagan, Pangan. ●lacentia, pag. ult. for He, We▪ Masque Emblem, Pag. 2. lin. 5. For Bridall-chamber, Bride-chamber. Encomiastic. Pag. 1. for Astrea, Astrena▪ Bound, yet free, Pag. 2. in marg. for, in titulis, in utilis.    

Upon his name, to whom his Encomiastic upon the Common Law was Dedicated.  
Astrea's name and yours do both agree,  
And both I hit, yet both mistaken be.   

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 
ASTREA DAVINPORTA. Anagram. veni, porta ad astra.