SELF; OR, A RIDDLE, Called the MONSTER.  By T. I. 
RIddle my Riddle (for I mean to pose ye)  
What is it Raiseth ye, Yet Overthrows ye?  
What is't That makes Men deny to pay Tribute?  
Soar to a Sceptre, yet sink to a jibbet?  
What makes Disputants keep such a pother,  
Shutting the Gates of Bliss, One against tother?  
What is it makes a Man (by Toil and Labour,  
With all the wit he can) to Cheat his Neighbour?  
Lest this Enigma should too much involve Yey,  
Extend your Intellect, I shall resolve Ye:  
SELF is that Monster, which swallows up All-things;  
Makes low things, high things, brings great things, to small things.  
SELF hath his Sovereignty (more is the pity)  
In Church, Court, Country, Camp, Navy, and City.  
What e'er the Voyage be, SELF has the Venture;  
Where e'er the Circle be, SELF is the Centre.  
SELF in this season, is the only Object;  
SELF is a sovereign, and SELF is a Subject:  
SELF is a Statsman, that pleads for Applauses,  
SELF would be Chancellor in his own Causes.  
SELF, into every Species can vary,  
SELF's Eccleastical, and Military:  
SELF will be meddling with Kingdoms, and Crowns too,  
SELF can build Houses, and SELF can sell Towns too.  
SELF, once raised War, between Swede and Poland,  
And betwixt England, France, Denmark, and Holland:  
SELF hath a Seignory in every Region,  
SELF is of any, and of no Religion:  
SELF is a Self-seeker, and SELF is a Shaker;  
SELF is a Prpist, and SELF is a Quaker:  
SELF makes a Protestant some times to falter,  
And bids a Prisbiter, bow to the Altar.  
SELF hatched the War, and the fatal Infection:  
SELF set the City in flaming distraction,  
SELF was the Plotter, SELF was Prejector,  
SELF was the sufferer, and SELF was the Actor:  
SELF was the Fireball, that brought with its flashes,  
Englangs Metropolis, to Dust and Ashes:  
SELF was a Thing made such work for Repayers,  
Which scarce will be finished, by Him or his Heirs.  
SELF was a Person (though not very witty)  
Which in that season, was Spark of the City.  
SELF is a Serpent, whose intreges are Oblick:  
SELF is the ruin of every Republic:  
SELF is the motive, so many are un-done,  
SELF was the Burning and Downfall of London;  
Though SELF (in confidence) thought He was able  
To quench the fury on't, with his small Babble.  
SELF is a Courtier that seems to adore ye,  
And spreads his formal fine saviours before ye,  
But if your Suit at Court, have not some pelf in't,  
〈…〉 there was Self in't.  
SELF is a Countryman, when fire enforces  
Men to make use of his Wagons and Horses;  
When Goods and Money were shared in four Quarters,  
By Fire, and by Felons, by Traitors, and Carters.  
SELF was a Traiton, a Turncoat, a Teacher:  
SELF, and Pluerallities, makes up a Preacher.  
SELF is a Shopkeeper, One that will ply ye,  
With see what ye lack Sir; But gets nothing by ye:  
SELF is so many Things, no Man can name all:  
SELF 's an Hermaphrodite, both Male and Fenale.  
SELF in a Woman's the root of all Evil,  
And gives cause to say, SELF is a Devil.  
SELF do Self-have, is a severe old Sentence;  
And SELF doth daily make work for Repentince.  
Let him be Englishman, Spaniard, or Roman,  
When each Man's for himself, than God is for no Man:  
And you shall find it true (if well you pause on't)  
What Michiefs ere enfue, SELF is the Cause on't:  
SELF is an inlet to every Disaster:  
He that denies himself, is his own Master.  
FINIS.   

London, Printed by E. C. for T. Vere, at the Cock in St. Johnsstreet. And W. Thackerey next to the Dalphin in Smithfield. 1668.