He that Views Murfords face, sees but a Ray  
Of light reflected, or a glimpse of day  
But he that reads his Arras woven line  
C●●n templates Phoebus as he brightly shine     

Fragmenta Poëtica: OR, miscellanies OF POETICAL MUSE, Moral and Divine: BY NICH. MURFORD.  
Vtque artes pariat solertia, nutriat usus. Claud.  
Ad Coelum volito, ut in Deo quiescam.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the sign of the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Churchyard. 1650.   

To the READER.  
Courteous Reader,  
WHether English resident in the Netherlands; Netherlander enjoying the benefit of the English Tongue; or Domestic English; (for it may light into the hands of all sorts of you) I entreat first your judicious reading, and than your favourable censuring of this small Poem: And lay not pride, or sauciness unto its charge, because it walks into the world before some of its elder brethrens; for as the noble S. Theodore de Mayern said in his Epistle before the Insectorum sive minimorum animalium theatrum, of learned Moufet, who was near of my name, of the same Country, (France) and perhaps of my kindred; (for blood, as rivers, run into many places (high and low) and yet came from one and the same fountain; and ebbs of fortunes sometimes 'cause false Orthography in one and the same name) speaking of the said Books, laying dormant in his study, attributes it Typographorum inhiantium culpae; And in the same Epistle to the said Posthume Work, he exclaims, OH tempora, in quibus eruditorum hominum sudores, ex pretio operis solvendo, & aere, in charta, & atramento comparandis locando, vel ex vulgi (pessimis ut plurimùm applaudentis) depravato sensu, non ex rei essentia, vel subjecti dignitate, aut solida ejusdem explanatione aestimantur! And indeed, if any solidity appears in a Book, the Vulgar say, it smells too much of Anchorism; but I say of those Books that are all compacted of whimsies, they are like Bristol stones, not valued by a judicious Jeweller, and as one wittily observed on a foolish Book, to which was written Finis, 
— Nay, there thou liest my friend:  
In writing foolish Books there is no end.  But (I am made to believe) that as this small Pamphlet is not wholly voided of some holy Sonnets; so it is not wholly without some (not unprofitable) Satyrs, etc. Wherhfore I hope the Stationers shall have no cause to sigh out, It will not cell! To conclude, Reader, I wish thee as much pleasure in the reading, as I had in the writing of it.  
Pray, and Farewell.   


Precatio Authoris!  
DIc mihi quid scribam! da tu mihi vota vovenda!  
Sic bene semper agam, sic bona vota mea.  
Gratia sit servo ad servatum jussa beata!  
Ille beatus enim, qui tua jussa facit.   

L'Auteur au Lecteur de son ovure.  
Petit Liure, faicte moy e'la service  
Monstrer l'Anglois la vertu par la vice;  
Mon Dieu, & mon maistre son nom eslever,  
Faicte devoir donner tout l'honeur.   

Idem ad eundem.  
My little Book, pray do me the small service  
To show England true virtue by mere vice;  
T'extol my God, and Master's name above,  
Strive thou my Soul in praiseful strains to move!   

Den Wensch.  
Och that mine Boecrken Engel-landt nu moghen  
Volley maken Engel-ghelyk menschen,  
En ick ghelyk een Engel hoogh ghebore,  
Moghen te schrieven als sanctus Paulus fore!   

To the Author.  
Even as the nasty Swine both flies and hates  
All fragrant Ointments; (for what recreates  
Our senses unto them is pestilent.)  
Just so of thy strong lines the very scent  
Will make the Boorish Rustics scud amain,  
Never desiring to read Verse again.  
Let Hinds base things admire. May Phoebus still  
Thy cups full of Castalian liquor fill  
Up to the brim; for them that can Compose  
Like Thee, the Muse's darling: unto those  
I leave—  
Ralph Piggott. Esq   

Upon the Author's Poems.  
WHere's the best Inn? here Reader: Stay  
Pray, light and drink: What, haste away?  
Here's Attic Juncates; and for Wine,  
Nectar both Moral and Divine.  
Take mine Host's proffer: 'Tis a crime  
Not to be drunk with Extatick rhyme.  
J. A.   

On the Authors mixed Poems.  
WHat is't you want? Wit or Wine?  
Fancies Moral or Divine?  
Read these Poems: what you crave,  
You can not sooner ask, than have.  
O. B.   

Nich. Murford Authori Hospiti Amicissimo.  
I Hugg thy Fancy much, because Divine;  
Nature is excellent in its refine.  
Divine Raptures, are, Nature's compliments,  
And gives perfection to mixed Elements.  
And since mine Host can reach heaven with a rhyme  
I'll honour only Sack, Nectar sublime:  
And pray a blessing to the Author's pains  
In heaven immortal, on earth honest gains.  
Owen Barn, Gent.   

Upon the Authors Work.  
Thy curious Miscellanies of delight,  
●hall be Wits offspring, Art's Hermaphrodite.  
Idem.   

Upon his Inn.  
Your Inn's the Star, but from yourself the Beam  
Of Light, to it, as from the Sun doth stream.  
Idem.   

Or thus,  
Not more the Star shall be to me  
Of such an Inn a sign, but Thee.  
Idem.   

To the Reader of those Poems.  
Hospitis in mensa, vultum non fercula pensa.  
Idem.   

Ad Authorem.  
ALma tibi mater fuit Anglia, Gallia nutrix,  
Et Germana dehinc hospita tellus erat.  
Hinc tres sermones retines, veluti genuinos,  
Romanum quartum lectio multa dedit.  
Addidit ingenium praestans natura, sic ortus  
Es vates Lauro dignus Apollineâ;  
Sed quod divinum resonat tua Musa Poëma  
Omnes mirantur, quod super Astra volas;  
Nec mirum, non dat Tellus, Naturauè Mentem,  
Coelitus emissa haec, sydera summa petit.  
Tho. Parkin, Medicinae Doctor.   

Englished.  
THy Mother England was, thy Nurse was France,  
Duitzlandt thine Hostess. Hence thou didst enhance  
Three native Tongues; than Industry begot  
Latin the fourth. Thy wit by Nature's lot  
Was such, that thou a Poet masculine  
Becamest by drinking Helicon divine.  
But that thy Muse so sacred is, and high,  
Men marvel thou shouldst mount above the Sky;  
No marvel: Place, nor Nature Thee soul gave,  
From Heaven it came, and Heaven again doth crave  
T. P.   

Au Lecteur.  
Chansons' plein de sens,  
Orisons plein d'encens;  
Poesy, & Pieté  
Sont insemble icy.  
Tho. Parkin.   

To his worthy Friend Mr. N.M. Merchant, on his Fragmenta Poetica, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
NOt to applaud when desert makes it due,  
Hath as deep share in ill, as to avow  
The Act (by not reproving it) seen done,  
Such were my Error, OH Poëtick Son  
Of Pallas, if I don't (perusing) praise  
Thy touring raptures, meriting rich Bays.  
Good Nich, march on; May thy acquaint head-piece shine  
As Limbeck of those learned sisters Nine!  
The cordial Vote of a True friend of thine.  
Nich. Toll, Pastor at Lynn.   

To the Author.  
WHen wholesale Men are bankrupt, & none left  
To trade in wit, but those who do't by theft;  
Such as retail rhyme weekly by a sheet,  
To gain perhaps the Counter or the Fleet:  
In such a Fancy-famin not to raise,  
But make wit cheap; deserves a double Bays.  
This thou hast done in these thy works, nay more;  
For thou hast brought Parnassus to our shore;  
Salt Owse a fresh Muse has, when Cams are salt;  
Lyn has a capering Nymph, when Oxford's halt:  
Warehouse of Wit, fill still; let others gain,  
By fetching Fortune's goods from France or Spain!  
Thou hast a higher trade, which none o'them uses;  
Thy stock is verse, thy factors are the Muses,  
Thy returns Fame; thine is such Merchandise,  
As feeds not Custom, and quite starves Excize:  
Trade on wits Merchant, give the world to know  
Chaucer was bred in Lyn, and so wert Thou.  
Raptim Tho. Toll junior, Gent.   

To the Author Mr. N.M. upon his divine POEMS.  
COmmend thy Verse sweet NICH? I need not! tush,  
When Wines are good, they never want a Bush.  
Commend thy Verse? I cannot! 'tis a Task  
To do it well, would Cleavelands Fancy ask;  
Yet this I'll speak for thy immortal credit,  
It is no spurious piece: but MURFORD did it.  
At these thy Lines, whos'er shall take offence,  
They understand them not, they have no sense.  
Let who will cavil at thy Book, what's in't  
Is not imperfect; but 'tis done in PRINT.  
Tho. Leech, A.M.   

GO thou away with all the praise of mine,  
Who Ownest these Poems Moral and Divine.  
What? canst not do enough, but over-doed,  
Draw us such Wine, so good, and Sugar to't?  
Let others brows be crowned with a rush,  
The Lawrel's thine; yet this Wine needs no Bush.  
Thy Star's a glorious Sun, and gives more light  
Than can b'obscured by foulest envies spite.   

To his esteemed friend M. Nich. Murford, On his Fragmenta Poetica.  
THat Memnon's image tuned by the heat  
Of glitt'ring rays showered down from Titan's seat  
Proved Vocal, I'll not doubt, since sparks of wit  
And Scintillations of thy brain made fit  
Our indisposed Fancies, to produce  
Impressions propagated from thy Muse.  
For those Poetic flames in us begun,  
Are all derivative from thee our Sun.  
That human souls are Numbers as of old  
Xenocrates affirmed, is now controlled,  
Since thine such rare endowments doth possess,  
Which are both Singular, and Numberless;  
Yet why go I about thus to confine  
Thy boundless praise to th'compass of a Line,  
Which he that would express, and make it known,  
Must writ a Volume larger than thine own:  
Let this suffice, that we adorn thy praise  
Now, not with Ivy, but Immortal Bays.   

To the Book.  
THou Pallas vented from most pregnant brains,  
Go, teach the world new Mathematic strains;  
This little Quadrature to us imparts  
The Circle of all Sciences and Arts.  
Those scandalising pens which at thee wonder,  
Shall know, that Bacchus was begot with thunder.  
J. Bastard. A. B.   

To his worthy friend M. Nich. Murford, Upon his Fragmenta Poetica.  
IN Faith I wonder, yet in Truth I see,  
Pallas will leave the University,  
And come to Lynn; she hath already sent  
Her head-piece to thy house, her sacred tent,  
Which is a sign she'll come. Affirm who dare  
A man i th' Moon to be, he's in the Star,  
Whose drink's not White, nor Claret, no such mean,  
He drinks not Hippocras, but Hippocrene;  
Whose radiant splendour, whose acquaint courteous uses  
Make him an Host fit for the thrice three muses.  
Mourn than ye Heliconian Brats, give o'er  
Your wont wanton Garbs, invest not more  
Yourselves with colours diapered; put on  
Sable accoutrement, Pallas is go.  
No news, alas; that wit would soon decay,  
Who knew not, when the head was ta'en away?  
The sacred brains must putrify we know,  
Seeing the Pia Mater's wounded so.  
Stargazers, have your wits sequestered been,  
As well as wealth, that none this Star have seen?  
It neither rise nor falls, that ye may know it,  
It hangs o'er Helicon, go quickly to it:  
Where you shall find him, whom you'll swear to be  
Nature's perfection, Wit's Epitome.  
Sic obtestatur Tuissimus Carolus Cromer, Cantabr. Coll. Corp. Christi.   

To his very good Friend Mr. Nich. Murford, upon his POEMS.  
DEar Friend, I'll swear thy Verses I must call  
Not sublunary, but Celestial;  
For sure th'Intelligences moved thy brain,  
And were the primum mobile of thy strain  
In Poëtry; thou dost so sweetly sing,  
That were't not Treason, I'd proclaim thee King  
In Homer's stead; and could I have my william.  
Thou shouldst be chief of all the biforked Hill.  
Thy head that Capitol of wisdom too,  
Does more than Nature, much as Art can do.  
Thy Star works great effects of Chimistrie,  
Aurum it makes to some Potabile;  
It also wonders works upon Man's Wits,  
And makes them think the lower Orb hath fits  
Of th'trembling Ague, and they'll swear by Jove,  
Copernicus speaks true, the Earth does move;  
And for thy Book, the praise it gets of mine,  
Is only this, it's excellent good, and Thy.  
Tho. Parkin, junior. A. B.   

Upon the pithy Poems of Mr. Nicholas Murford, MERCHANT.  
I Do not here appear to praise thy Book,  
Because I have acquaintance with Thee took.  
I do not praise thy Book, because of Thee;  
But praise Thee for thy witty Book, all see.  
Merchant of wit, who tradest in it much,  
And sell'st to such, to buy that do not grudge,  
Thy Germane, French, and Belgic voy'ages; none  
Can be compared to this, to Helicon:  
Ah! what great pity was it, that such Wit  
Did never in an Academy sit?  
For if thou hadst, what had been ancient blades?  
Thou hadst outdone great Homer's Iliads:  
Yet notwithstanding, o! how thou dost shame  
Some that from learned Ox, and Cam have came?  
When thou writ'st to thy Book, thy Friends, thy God,  
How is thy soaring Pegasus than shod!  
When thou hast laden thy Ships, & caetera,  
Than nulla dies sine linea.  
Thy witty, wholesome Satyrs lash not men;  
But heart-corrupting, and Soul-wounding sin.  
When thou art pleased to writ upon thine Inn,  
Rash men think no man e'er in such came in:  
But to the STAR thy Tavern, if men come,  
The first words are, Is the good man at home?  
And than (with much respect) most happy he  
Who hath thy most delightful company.  
Never did I see man so much respected  
In such a calling, one so perfected!  
In brief, if one would praise Thee, it is thus,  
The Author is, Vnus in omnibus.  
Thy Book replete is with Wit's purity,  
Full of Divine wit; but no surquedry.  
Caesar, if not Caesar, would wish to be  
(I verily do think) like unto Thee.  
(As Alexander said t' Diogenes)  
God help poor Kings, they han't such happy days!  
If thou abused art by a dull Elf,  
Thou'lt jeer him so, he'll choose to hung himself,  
As once did one of old. Thus these thy lays  
Engaged me Secretary of thy praise,  
And thou deservest to be Secretary  
To England's best, and gallantest Noble, marry.  
J. B.   

A l' Autheur.  
MOn melieur Amy (plustost) ma foy  
Vouz merit Secretaire du Roy.  
Robert Thorowgood Merchant.   

To the Author M. Nicholas Murford, Merchant. Nurs-child of Maro. Anag.  
THy Poems on a Pillory makes me stand  
With both my ears fast nailed, and fixed hand  
Upon thy Book, which took me when I see't  
(As flies are taken) fettered by the feet  
Of thy smooth verse. Thou, whose smooth chin doth writ  
Thy date of years the hours of day and night,  
That abler wits admire to see thee climb  
To so great height in such short space of time.  
Poetrie's now grown Staple-Merchandize  
Free from Old Custom or the New Excise.  
Silvester, Spenser, Johnsonn, Draiton, Donn,  
May see Verse measured by the Last and Tunn,  
While Dutch, French, Spanish, English liquours use  
TO adorn thy house, their learning's grace thy Muse;  
Thy frolic Nimble Genius like thy Star  
That twinkling brings the Magis from afar  
Into these Northern parts to come to Lynne  
To see two Rarities, thy Works, thy Inn,  
Which with thy Star and Stable represent  
A second Bethlem. Next comes sweet Content:  
When men were wise and happy, than this Theme  
Was welcome news, that now seems but a dream.  
The ancient Bards reserved this dish of meat  
For Kings to taste on: than were Crowns complete.  
But since their learned days Content and Kings  
Are from us fled with their high-towring wings  
Not seen, felt, heard, or understood, Unless  
That in a Galley, this a game at Chess.  
Thy Muse hath made thee Momus-free, each word  
Mured with a Wall, and Moted with a Ford,  
Thus garrisoned, in this the Nectar flows,  
In that the Laurel springs to bind thy Brows.  
Let the poor Scoundrel praise the poor-patcht words  
Of ebrious Poet's sheets, sung on two boards  
Upon a pair of Trussels in a Fair,  
Or Market, where the Clowns and Girls repair;  
And let the Romancer his stories gilled  
With Lady's loves, Knight's conquering, Giants killed.  
Let the bold weeks-man writ his wrong-set news,  
That may by Patent all the world abuse,  
With six days works of new-created lies  
To bind up Galley-pots and bottom pies.  
Let them seek praises where they will for me,  
All that I have or can, belong to thee,  
And to thy Star that calculates thy fate  
To be divine Apollo's right-hand mate,  
And make me wish myself a Star, to be  
A pointer in the Guoards to say that's He. 
☞   
And for thy Book, let never greasy thumb,  
Nor shallow-brain upon thy pages come,  
Nor dolts that must be forced to read it twice,  
Nor ignorance attempt to ask the price,  
Nor stammering fools, that hack and mar the sense,  
The cellar's power's repealed to take their pence;  
Thy worthy Work shall make thy Pen so famed,  
And get thee glory that thy Book's Nicknamed.  
Than march-on MURFORD never be afraid,  
The Muse's love t'have young beginners trade;  
And I short to express thy worth, thy rhyme,  
Crave leave to end and mend another time.  
Jo. Bradford.   

To my exceedingly respected friend Mr. Nicholas MURFORD, Merchant.  

WHen Reason, Fancy, Wit, and Grace  
In tender years take each their place,  
These make the man. All these I see.  
Concur in this thy Book, and Thee.   

Thou Merchant Murford mayst be well,  
For this thy Book doth much excel,  
And set's forth Reason, Wit, and Grace  
In every line, in their due place.   

Good Friend, hold on, and writ a-gain;  
This Book will cell, and thou'lt remain  
Encouraged still for future Wark,  
And get the name of learned Clark.   

Ever long thou'lt hear men will relate  
Thee to be Poet laureate.  
Thus think I of thy Book, and Thee,  
And am thy faithful friend and free.  
W. skinner, Gent.     

The Invocation. To the most High GOD. His humble Servant Implores his most favourable assistance.  

O alwise God with the lest word who can  
Make me dull wretch, as clear as Solomon;  
Deign from the Orbs to view this Work of mine,  
And with Diviner raptures it refine?  
Great God I crave thy Spirit, and do refuse  
To this my Work to invocate a Muse.  
" A sacred heat inspires my Soul to try  
If Verse can give me what base Earth deny,  
A true content; therefore (Lord!) I'll think on  
" Thy Jordan for my purest Helicon;  
" And for biforked Parnassus, I will set  
" My fancy on thy sacred Olivet;  
For thy Diviner Poet David did  
That which was ne'er attained to by Ovid.  
Nay thou who Aetna curb'st, and the wild Sea,  
Shalt of my Songs be Alpha and Omega.  
Let my Divine things be perspicuous,  
And even my worst (my God) be virtuous!  
Let me have holy fraud: with roundelays  
Let inter-mixed be most sacred lays!  
Let my but moral things have virtue on,  
And my Divine have pure Religion!   

Let my wit draw the Reader with such Art,  
That Grace may sweetly captivated his Heart!  
O let my Epigrams jeer him from bad,  
My Satyrs make him to leave vice be glad!  
My Elegies to make him mourn for's folly,  
My holy Sonnets learn him to be holy!  
" Grant Verse may find him; who a Sermon flies,  
" And turn delight into a sacrifice!  
Let me not be like those live ill, preach well,  
Who save men's souls; yet sand their own to Hell!    

POEMS. The STORM and CALM: Scent from Embden to M. Edw. Ma. and M. Tho. Ly.  

WEary with Reading and with Meditation,  
Upon my spirit settled a Vexation:  
Having no Compass, nor no Chard to view,  
Sigh we did only drive, and overview,  
What did our hasty spirits Griefs renew,  
I thought in Verse to parley once with you.  
The sometime-mounting Sea is now so calm,  
As if it were surprised with a qualm:  
The wanton Sails do beaten the quiet Mast,  
And the Sun's heat doth make Wood pitch to taste:  
Two days before I gave the land-sight shilling,  
Which I to give, as they to take was willing,  
The Mariners were almost at a strife  
To have me hear what each would say to's wife.  
The thievish Irish we had quite given over,  
Concerning thoughts that they could us discover:  
We anchored with Hope's anchor, and our own;  
Than from the ground they both again were shown.  
Now a dissembling voice of wind doth speak;  
But presently we cannot hear him squeak.  
The sleepy Sea that 'fore so boisterous was,  
Is now as smooth as the most even Glass:  
One now would think the water to be dead,  
Or with dead sleep to be heavy as Led;  
Which not to wake, the stormy folk I cry-on;  
" OH 'tis not good to wake a sleeping Lion!  
For not long since, in the same ship we were,  
When the mad Wind I thought would tear her gear;  
And carrying by th' board a Mast, might quail  
The stoutest heart; the skeening of a Sail,  
The shipping of a Sea, the Deck in water  
For full five hours in my conceit was greater:  
But all together, in my vainer mind,  
Would make a man to fear the raging wind:  
And if the Wind, which was but God's mere Creature,  
OH how much more God, who was the Creator!  
But when the Ship was like to over-set,  
The Seamen's eyes were dry, though bodies wet.  
In stead of praying, some did curses vent;  
Which that they did, I would they might repent.  
Titan withdrew his golden locks; our Ark  
Now in the day must wander in the dark.  
One time we think we must for Norway go;  
Than for Scotland; than neither is it so;  
For we have hopes for Tinmouth, than for Humber:  
Thus doubtful fears our doubtful souls encumber.  
So dangerous was our Voyage, that I vow,  
I love your presence, but woul'ned have it now.   

Thus have we here the calm Prosperity,  
And the great storm of fierce Adversity;  
Which I desire to draw to use: a Moral  
May here drawn out be for us mortals all.  
The first, her Sun, will take away our cloak,  
Before the other's blustering wind can choke.  
In Court Elisha had need doubly have  
Elijahs spirit, who was in the wave  
Of soul-trying, yet good Adversity,  
Which is the heavenly University.   

O Lord, give me my portion of these,  
Or either, as thou think fit, and dost please.    

To the Right Worshipful Thomas Revet Maior elect of Kings Lynn. The PRESENT.  

WHile wealth Senators, and Burghers rich,  
Make privy search through th'Ocean and each ditch  
For curious, rarer, and scarce heard of Fish,  
With Love and Pride to furnish your vast dishes;  
And neighbouring Knights and Gentry hunt each Park,  
Search Fields and all for th' nimble Deer i'th' dark,  
E'er that Aurora hath her tresses dighted,  
Or Phospher hath the Hemisphere belighted,  
The winged creatures with observant eye  
Watching, and waiting if they can espy:  
While these (having obtained) offer their Presents,  
My Muse their way doth wave, and not resents;  
But for King John's Cup, brings Nectar sublime,  
And (for one dish) Ambrosia divine.  
And if you Music affect and admire,  
Apollo shall descend with his sweet Lyre.  
The Muses shall with trenchers wait upon you,  
If there chance not to be servants enough;  
Nay, I'll dispeople Air, Sea, and the Earth,  
Rather (dear Sir) than there should be a dearth  
At your great Festival; and could I charm,  
None should in thought, word, deed, produce you harm:  
And I hope (Sir) you'll please for to give way  
To hear a Poet Prophet turn, and pray.   

May Envy sleep under your foot! O, may  
Your year of charge seem as one joyful day!  
May we Plebeians with true Love, not Hate,  
Obey your just commands, as you the State!  
May you have Conscience, and have Policy,  
Before this People to walk prudently!  
May your two houses have one single heart,  
And (Solon-like) to govern well, the Art!  
May the great God's receivers, even the Poor,  
Relieved be at their houses, and your door!  
May Lyn still flourish, and increase by Trade,  
Ploughing the Ocean with the Naval blade!  
May Spain, France, Belgia, Germany,  
Our flood of fortunes even like Venice spy!  
May Alms support the aged, may Trades the youth,  
And may your praises be spoke by each mouth!  
May children (yet unborn) say REVET did  
All that was good, in nothing he misdid!  
That to your memory there may be regard,  
When Death upon you place a Corpse du guard.  
Nay stay: for I han't done (Sir;) here's not all:  
For here's a Feast you'll says Poetical:  
But could man's cordial and their often wishes  
Supply your Board, than you should have these dishes:  
And to speak truth, of old they were no babies  
Who used this saying, Crede quòd habes, & habes.   

First Course.  
Collars of Brawn, stiff like a well-starched Ruff,  
Salad, and Capon boiled tender enough,  
Gurnet, and Mallard, after the same sort,  
With a forced boiled meat, ordered with port;  
A roasted Neats-tongue, with a Pudding in it,  
(Even such a tongue as ne'er did use to sin it.)  
A made dish of Puff-paste, with a fair Shoulder-  
Of Mutton ô-leaves, caper's 'fore the houlder.  
A Chine of Beef, Chewets of weak-brained Veal,  
A Sican, an Olive-Pye, a Pig shan't squeal.  
A leg of Mutton, Lark-pye, and a Turkey,  
With Ven'son-Pasty, Capon, Custard work I,  
And han't the lest remorse,  
Or thought o' th' second Course.  
Now I have time, and now with all my force,  
I'll muster up my wished second Course.   

Second Course.  
A tender Kidd, with a couple of Rabbits;  
A Kickshaw fried, or baked, (voided of raw bits)  
A roasted Mallard, brace of Partridges;  
A Chicken-pye to march along with these.  
A brace of Woodcocks, a couple of Teals;  
A cold baked Meat, a dish of Plovers, Quails;  
A dish of Snipes, a cold baked Meat; thereby  
A dish of Larks, a Quince, or Warden pie.  
A dried Neat's tongue, an Oyster-pie; than on  
A dish of Puffs, a Joul of Sturgeon.  
A fair laid Tart of Puff-paste, and sweet sucket,  
A dish of pickled Oysters (Cloves bestucked.)  
In Ordering of these Dishes I'm so hoarse,  
 not strength to name the looked for third Course.   

apology.  
I know not how you relish these my Dishes,  
Nor if you deign acceptance of my Wishes.  
Some judge them like Apelles' fruit, and some  
To such, as soon as to your Feast would come.  
So we're Feast-hainers; th'difference is here,  
You feed the Mouth, and I do feed the Ear.    

Epigrams and Epitaphs.  

I Cheater.  
HAst thou, Cheater, of gold such quenchless thirst?  
I would 'tis melted, than drink while thou burst.   

II Hold-Cook.  
Cornutus was Cornutus called by's wife;  
And was there not great cause of flaming strife?  
She thought to shame her Man. Alas! poor heart,  
I fear i'th' world to come she'll have the smart.   

III The Rule.  
'Tis good to speak no ill of other men,  
And of ourselves to speak no good again.   

IV. The Spice.  
All Vices have their taste from Avarice;  
So is it one, though a corrupting, Spice.   

V The Serpent.  
Sigismund's Stork a flatterer light upon,  
Because he bitten worse than a Scorpion.   

VI But mars.  
In Dutch, But Maer is; from it I clearly spy  
That our word Marinell proceeded lineally:  
For we say such an one's honest and wise,  
But he is greatly given unto lies.  
Wherhfore judge all men, you both near and far,  
If But, so used, don't the Sentence mar.   

VII. Imbarbus.  
The Author those that flout him thus doth hit;  
He wish to have never more Beard than Wit.   

VIII. Imperfect.  
Sure there's a mystery in Religion lurks;  
Papists want Faith, and Protestant's Good works.   

IX. Tautology.  
I know not if 'tis question, or command,  
In these words, hear, conceive, and understand.   

X. Epitaph on M. S.  
Behold a wonder! here lies slain 
Anag.   
One in three hours that risen again.   

XI. Epit. on S. B.  
Here lies a Squire, yet scarce a Gentleman;  
A member only of the Pint and Can.   

XII. Epit. on Al. Camock.  
Here lies an Elder, Merchant, Poet, Artist,  
Who having ruled, traded, writ, wrought, 's dismissed.   

XIII. Epit. on M. Good-rich.  
Here lieth one, whose name doth speak him even  
On Earth accepted, and beloved in Heaven.   

FOURTEEN. Epitaph on the late K.  
Zeal, Learning, Patience, Valour here doth lie,  
Superlative, even unto ecstasy;  
That steered a State War-tost, not by Self-will:  
Blame than the Storm, not th'Pilot's want of skill.   

XU. The Translator.  
Thou second Sidney, if what's laid is true,  
That thou translat'st old English into new:  
Nay it is said, that thou dost him transcend;  
For thou amendest All with thy good End.    

To Sir R. S. Epistle.  

SIr, after my vowed service's remembrance,  
I will betray my bolder Ignorance,  
In letting my Muse take another flight;  
Than let her on your nobler hand alight.   

Whenas not great, yet good Roger à Gaunt  
Your kind acceptance of my Muse did plant  
Within my head, my head most thankful still,  
Issued an Order to my base quill,  
My quill in hand (unjust) I by't my nails,  
Because my head in brave invention fails.  
I would say something, but I know not what,  
My Muse is so beflagged, dull, and flat.   

Yet now suppose me (dear Sir) in your presence,  
Filling your ears with eloquent nonsense,  
Inviting you, not, as I was your guest,  
But, as a traveler, to th'Star in the East,  
Where, to speak without pure, fantastic flams,  
Your choicest dish shall be of Epigrams;  
And they perhaps to you may seem lesle vain  
Than the strange dishes of wild France or Spain:  
For if I should make preparations thus,  
You'll take me to be Heliogabalus:  
And now I think on't, I might save my prate;  
For you was here, I think, too long of late:  
And if I should speak out, and speak it flatly,  
You were too lately here, it were not flatly.   

Than may I to your house invite myself,  
OH bold, adventurous, and audacious elf,  
Shall I re-enter than your House's door?  
I shall be than unmannerly to Snore,  
And go to Downham, ere I take my horse,  
Or take my feet, and that you'll say is worse.   

There's inconvenience in their full-crowned— glasses;  
For they'll take letters out, and put in— lasses;  
Nay they'll take wit out, and of men make— asses:  
Clipping true English comes from fulfilled— bowls,  
Blindness at noonday, as the weak-eyed— owls.  
I like not learned Horace's thrice three,  
Although they of th'uneven Muses be,  
To ravished highflown Poet's hieroglyphics,  
Methinks they by't sharper than keen Iambics;  
Nor that strange imitation of the Graces,  
(Although but three) which gives men's wits short races;  
But rather like that composition fine,  
Ear-tickling wit unto heart-chearing wine;  
And sigh you use both, I would visit you,  
But have no Beucephal to mount I vow:  
Wherhfore I'll this propose, if t'int too course,  
I'll for a limbed change a winged horse.    

A SONG, Made at my last coming out of Germany.  

WE are Neptunian boys that come  
For to see fair Albion's shore,  
We wish, we wish to see our home,  
And to leave the brutish bore.  
Than now let our sails be spread, be spread,  
Than now let our sails be spread,  
The curled billows let us blow,  
And Neptune's watery bed.  
Jove give us a fair wind,  
Our Ark heels as an hind,  
That we stay not behind.  
O Jove Southeast,  
Or else North-east,  
Or sweet East!   

Neptune, grant Triton t'usher us  
With his auspicious sound;  
'Tis music not superfluous;  
But pleasures there abound.  
If that the Monster setteth sail  
Unto that joyful noise,  
Who is not moved with a gale,  
But than doth feel his joys  
He that with's mouth doth drink up Seas,  
And eat up floating flocks;  
He that the grassy Islands fleas,  
And shakes the firmest rocks.  
O let us his strength see,  
Objects let us not be;  
In him shall we see thee.  
Our mouths up raise,  
With louder praise,  
With shrillerlays!   

The fiercer Sea-horse, that fell fish,  
Whose tooth so fair sharp is,  
The Mareman, merry Mare-maid fish,  
Whose ditty pleasant is;  
That fish so musical, and kind  
Unto the sons of men;  
The Dolphin brave, whose sweeter mind  
Saved Orion with her fin.  
The wily Seal that lands,  
And defends her with sands,  
Who has watch in her bands:  
The snorting Porpus,  
Husband to th' Sea-sus;  
Thus, thus, thus!   

The summer Mackril, and the Herring,  
That swim in such great flocks;  
The wide-mouthed Sharb who is so learing,  
The Dog the fisher's pox.  
The flail-fined Thresher, and Swordfish,  
The muddy Eel and Lamprel;  
The harmless Whiting which men wish,  
And the Sea-wolf so fell:  
The Fountain-fish that spouts,  
The Flying fish that scouts,  
The Load-fish that so pouts.  
Great Jove, we stand  
Within thy hand,  
Now wish Land.    

14 Junii, 1649. Epithalamium to M. G. Heather, who that day married Mistress J. Revet.  

WHat mean the clamorous bells? the Juvenal fry?  
The Virgin-Troop, that march so amorously  
To th'place of Rendezvouz? The mounting bells  
Are loud-mouthed Drums, and Trumpets that excels,  
Beating a Call unto god Cupid's wars:  
But o! who don't delight in such sweet jars?  
Cupid leads on the frisking Cavalry;  
The pleasant Amazons march orderly  
Under Latona's banner; and Mars brings  
Some Officers to order flanks and wings.  
Alas! 'twas needless to bring Vulcan He'ther;  
For Nature learns to Revet well together.  
Their colours white, and they show innocence;  
Yet cease not this your fight, o! innosence.  
Here is no danger; bravely sound the charge;  
Bring up your canon, and stoutly discharge:  
Yet how was my brain het with such fond fuel?  
It is no Battle, but a single Duel;  
And seconds may be in a-green-way than;  
But pray stay Gallants while your time come, when  
You may go fight too; in the interim  
Go by't your handkerchiefs, and think on them.  
Come, Bridegroom, let me whisper in your ear;  
Counsel is good to all that will it hear;  
Lavolta's you must dance; and mounting than,  
Your Bride will dance all th' dances over again.  
Music, pray cease; for I dare lay a shilling  
The sense of Hearing is not like the Feeling.  
uncivil guests, be go, and bid good-night,  
Or else if I come, I'll put out the light.  
You senseless animals to talk of noon;  
What if they did? I say 'twas not too soon.  
Come, leave your tattling, gossips, and be go;  
You make the Bride blush like a rose in June.  
Blush not (sweet Bride.) Go, Hymen, light your torch,  
And usher out these guests out of the porch:  
For if the proudest of you dare to tarry,  
I'll scourge you with a smart make-Satyr, marry.  
And for these lingering Virgins, o, Priest, lo,  
If you'd but marry them, than they would go.    

The PRAYER.  

FAir Bride, may every night you go to bed  
Give your good Husband a new Maidenhead,  
And if he chance to ever think amiss,  
May your sweet lips than charm him with a kiss.  
Than that the World may see yond are no starters,  
May a son bless you at lawful three quarters!    


A Farewell to the World. satire 1. OR A Comment on a Copy of Verses.  

" FArewell, ye honoured rags, ye Crystal bubbles;  
" Farewell, ye lying joys, ye pleasing troubles.  
Wise Solomon saith, Earth's most choice things merit  
Is vanity, with vexing of the spirit.  
These rags are worn, these crystal bubbles choking,  
These joys are lies, these pleasing troubles croaking.  
Therefore, vain World, of thee I take farewell,  
Before I reasons fully to thee tell.  
" Fame's but an hollow Echo, gold pure clay,  
" Honour the darling but of one short day.  
Fame's a mushrum, which Pliny doth repute  
Nature's chief miracle having no root:  
E le had those Grecians, and those Romans brave  
For their achievements never found a Grave;  
And besides where shall empty Fame be hurled  
When God doth make a bonfire of the world?   

Great store of Gold can not be gotten in,  
And kept (saith learned Erasmus) without sin.   

And that deceitful, though most glorious clay,  
Behold! maketh it wings, and flies away.   

Ah! how was Julius Caesar s honour laid  
In blood? And how most strangely was't betrayed?  
How failed great Pompey's state? whose story sad  
Would make a man in honour half grow mad?  
How were those wretched Kings, that for the riot  
Of their proud foe, did draw his Chariot?  
How was it with that poor dejected King,  
His vile deposing by foes suffering?  
How was it with one of the Royal blood,  
The nearest heir, ah! who not only stood  
Barehead, but barefoot ran, o cruelty!  
After the train of mounted Burgundy.  
Stanley presuming of his surer hold,  
Was'nt only unexpectedly controlled,  
But at no warning, o the viler deed!  
By crooked Richard shortened by the head.  
Fame hath no root, gold tried is but dross,  
And by that vaunting honour is most loss.  
" Beauty's chief Idol's but a damask skin,  
" State but a golden prison to keep in,  
" And torture freeborn minds; imbroid'red trains  
" Are but the issues of fantastic brains.   

A dash of nature's tincture laid upon  
The skin, by sickness washed of anon,  
Is beauty. And what but a fair blossom,  
That drops, as fruit offer's thereon to come?  
What but a flower, o ye fondling mortals!  
Which with one hot Sunbeam wealtreth, and falls?  
He that did with a thousand beauties lie,  
Said favour is deceit, beauty vanity.   

State still engendereth Envy, and we see,  
Each hath a cudgel for a laden Tree.  
All th' cures i'th' Street in fierce pursuit are go  
Of that poor cur that runneth with the bone.  
How many even in this age of ours,  
Whom wealth betrayed, and made malefactors?  
One saith, State is ned only a prison foul;  
But doth avouch it the bane of the soul.  
How fearful are the great to tread awry,  
Because they're watched by many a spy?   

Imbroid'red trains, what are they? even the best  
Are borrowed from some stranger bird, or beast;  
And all attires. The Beaver owns the Hat.  
As for th' silk-stocking, the silkworm owneth that.  
The Sheep the Suit and Cloak. The Boot & Shoe the Neat,  
And if this stripped the Gallant scarce would sweated,  
Beauty's a paint detected, States a Cage  
Of Iron, Trains a folly in young age.  
" And blood allied to greatness is but loan  
" Inherited, not purchased, not her own.  
What thy Father by his worth deserved  
Belongs not to thee, nor for thee reserved;  
Says one (and be it known he was no babble)  
It is thine own deserts must make thee noble;  
For that which by our Ancestors is sown,  
Because not ours, is scarcely called our own;  
Greatness of blood without claiming desert,  
By wise men is not valued worth a fart.  
" Fame, Richeses, Hoonur, Beauty, State, Trains, Birth,  
" Are but the fading pleasures of the Earth.  
Add, if you please, strength, valour, pleasure, wisdom;  
Corruption all these doth overcome.  
" I would be high, but see the Sun doth still  
" Level his beams against the rising hill.  
I see the common humour doth abet  
The axe to be i'th' blood of Nobles wet.  
LAUD and STRAFFORD had ned had so ill a fate,  
But that they mounted were in Church and State.  
Therefore advance I wish not in extremes,  
For fear the Sun should melt it with his beams.  
" I would be rich, but see man too unkind,  
" Digging the bowels of the richest mine.  
And therefore is it that it seemeth reason  
To make rich men guilty of high Treason.  
O how men pine when a fair house is shown,  
That (they think) a too wealth man doth own!  
" I would be wise, but that the Fox I see  
" Suspected guilty, whilst the Ass goes free.  
O the great safety of a Fool! the Gull  
(A bird much found among the Worshipful)  
Danger afflicts not: but the Nightingale  
The thorns her breast prick, and she it doth wail.  
The Flail and Swordfish do not find a fault  
With silly quiet fish, but th' Whale assault.  
Therefore but note the mystery of it;  
Wise men cut of, Fools saved for want of wit.  
" I would be poor, but see the humble grass  
" Trampled upon by each unworthy ass.  
As that Soldier leaping short o' th' ditch,  
The Company (each one) made him their bridge:  
Yet none but Asses to the humble can  
Forget so much the other is a man.  
" Wise suspected, High envied more,  
" Rich hated, Fair tempted, scorned if Poor.   

" Would the world now adopt me for her heir,  
" And Beauty's queen entitle me The fair:  
Were I as famous even as Hercules,  
With Croesus' richeses, and of both the Indieses,  
And as much honour as an Alexander,  
Walking with Venus in loves sweet Maeander,  
And as much state as (sometime) Solomon,  
As rich attire as Cleopatra on  
My back, with near alliance unto Kings;  
Lord, what are these but flattering fading things!  
Were I the most Angelic creature living,  
Who, though a widower, need not go a wiving:  
" Can I vie Angels with rich Indian meads,  
" Or with a speaking eye command bore heads.  
Had I all Vsurer's bags in mine own keeping;  
(But they, nor I, could not than rest by sleeping)  
Or could my nobler eye speak Majesty,  
And make men humbly at my feet to lie.  
" Can I be more than any man that lives,  
" Fair, rich, great, all in superlatives.  
Were I more, than can be, most fair, most rich,  
Most wise, most great, 'twould be a lying itch,  
Which seems to tickle at the first; but lo!  
It makes a man into half frenzy go.  
" I count one minute of my holy leisure  
" Beyond too much of all this worldly pleasure.  
One spiritual ejaculation  
Is better than to rule a mighty Nation.  
How sweet is it, for to converse with God,  
Holding his Sceptre out instead of Rodriguez!  
With Paul to be in the third Heavens rapt,  
Which for to be, each humbled foul is apt.  
" A Book of Prayers shall be my lookinglass,  
" Wherein I'll see, and court sweet virtue's face.  
In Prayer I will see God's face; virtue  
By Heathens called is now Religion true.  
Shunning of vice, and loving that is good,  
Now virtue's beauteous face hath lost her hood.  
" Here will I sit, and sigh my hot youth's folly,  
" And learn t'affect an holy melancholy.  
Ah! hear I'll grieve for with sad sighs, and groans,  
Sins by my marrow-hot-inflamed bones.  
My sins of youth with David I'll lament,  
Till God doth say thou dost, and I'll repent.  
" And if contentment be a stranger than,  
" I'll never look for't, but in Heaven age'n.  
'Twas that made Israel safe in the read Sea,  
The blessed three Children in the fire to be  
Vnscorched, and David to fight Goliath,  
And Jesus earthly Mother blest Maria  
Escape Herod's cruelty. Joseph i'th' pit,  
And in the Prison so for to embrace it.  
Stephen amid a shower of stones to stand  
Thrice blest, holding of Christ by heart, and hand.  
Note 'twas contentment under God's great hand,  
That made them weighting for deliverance stand.  
If than contentment be'nt in faith to God,  
Contentment by me is not understood.    

D. Rogero Sotheby Mercatori, ut pignus observantia D.D.D. hunc Papam-Daemon. N.M. satire. 2. The PICTURE.  
Haec pictura videt monachum nunc esse per omnes;  
Sed modo verte parùm, Daemon ut ipse videt.  

RUn, run, run, run: what are you mad to stay?  
Sluggard, there is no Lion in the way,  
To stop thy flight from a more monstrous beast  
Than the strange form Creatures of the East.  
Thou piece of lying holiness avaunt,  
Thou gold-devouring, gaping Cormorant,  
Thou beast with seven horns, heathen in heart,  
Although thou hast of lies guilding the Art  
Thou Tyber-Tyger, thirsting after blood  
Of such as thou wilt never be so good;  
Methinks that those that come to kiss thy Toe,  
Should let their eyes a little further go,  
And there see with an half eye, and half blind,  
How foul he's under his vizard behind:  
His Triple Crown declares that triple evil,  
Of failing flesh, base world, and cursed Devil;  
Nay throw him down from of his Papall-seat,  
And he uncased than will make you sweated.  
Look one way here, and than a Pope you see,  
And but reversed the Devil a Pope is he,  
A two horned Devil, and there is no hope  
That he can e'er return again to Pope.  
But take him at the best he is so evil,  
That I must style him here a right Pope-Devill,  
Or Devill-Pope, which is not my mere humour,  
Or taking up on trust of lying rumour;  
But as the Devil proud was, so is he,  
And as it was his ruin, 'twill his be.  
The Devil we know all was such a liar,  
That he deceived our Grandam Eve's desire,  
And promised to give Man-God the Orb,  
Whenas he need not his heart so disturb;  
For it was none of his to give; so th' Pope  
Blasphemously doth give to sinner's scope  
To swim in sins, and this it is deceives,  
He saith his pardon punishment reprieves,  
And saith he cannot err, o error great,  
Crept unto such a learned abused seat.  
Simil. Thus have I seen a picture that one way  
Was man, th'other a woman's face display.  
So have I heard of Crocodiles deceit,  
Dissembling Child's cries have laid a bait.  
So have I seen an apple good to th' eye,  
To th' better proving mouth hath given the lie.  
So have I known a brass ring gilded all over,  
Which trying time the falsity discover.  
Such Pictures, Crocodiles, Apples, and Rings,  
May with the Pope be called deceitful things.   

The Map of vice: Italian Atheism,  
Spain's pride, French lightness, and their Schism,  
Dutch drunkenness, Jews superstition,  
And such that if I would make inquisition,  
I could compare him I dare here protest  
To no one man; but to Lucifer best.  
Manfroy's ambition cometh short of his;  
Ravillacks murder that, than his was lesle.  
Nero's vile cruelty he doth out do,  
And Paris theft like his is nothing so;  
Moore Tyrant than Caligula; more vile  
And wavering than the Emperor of Nile  
Was to Gods chosen Israel; reason  
Will say he hath outdone Sylla's vile treason.  
'Tis true he's like Caligula in this  
He doth repined at all men's happiness.  
Cleopatra, and Semiramis lusts  
To his great storms, are but as smaller gifts.  
Proud Dioclesian that called the Sun  
Brother, comes behind him, for he don't eat  
T'usurp Christ's place to be head of the Church;  
For cursed Avarice he is as much  
Guilty as base Hermocrates, who did  
Bequeath his goods unto himself when dead.  
The Sabies were not so idle as he,  
Nor do I think that any man can be.  
The Tyrant Dionysius by drink  
That lost his eyes, was not his match I think.   

Wherhfore I pardon crave to have begun,  
That which by betters must be overdon,  
Sigh I come short in all things; but I hope,  
Some will from this more understand the Pope,  
And at my younger hands take it not evil,  
Sigh I do justly style him a Pope-Devill.  
Duitz is te spraek met via'ndts, (so segg'sy) more,  
As met een via'ndt wy spraek, wy foudt bewaer;  
J'ck can niet swart whit segg'; so van de Paep,  
Jck can niet segg' high opsta'et, as by slaep.  
De Judas will niet dat Christus hire heeft ' west,  
De Paust dat hy soudt regulere; the best '  
Why weet elk soek sijn self; o lief Hear!  
Coninck van konincks du must reguleere,  
En de hovaerdich monnick seggen wy  
Must were wesen Servus Servorum Dei.    

Drunkenness Satyr. 3.  

When I thus ruminate, o Heavens' me bless!  
The Apish tricks of wilder Drunkenness.  
Those thirty Tyrants in that Heathen State  
Moore dire, unheard of things did ne'er created,  
Than these mad thirty Sons of Drunkeness,  
Some seeming virtues; yet most horrid vices.  
O wonder! here the miracle still lies,  
It doth delight itself in contraries.  
Witty, Foolish, waking, sleepy, angry,  
Pleasant, faith-full-lesse, valiant, cowardly,  
Quarrelsome, loving, healthful, sick, than come  
Covetous, liberal, speaking and dumb,  
Lame, walking, secret, open, lecherous, chaste,  
Care-full-lesse, proud, humble, mad quiet's last.   

1.  
Witty, or empty boldnsse for conceit,  
Is subject to be cheated by deceit.  
How have I heard a vafering blade dispense  
With a conceited wit; but mere nonsense?  
How have I heard a thunder thumping wit  
Sometimes his friend, sometimes himself to hit?  
Sim So have I seen a glitt'ring weapon stand  
In a mad man's ill-regulated hand.   

2.  
Foolish, for motley Drunkards slaver, yaun,  
As it they were a witless changelings spaun,  
Wanting the utterance of words, drawing  
To voided his Urine, like beasts, his Cud chawing.  
Sim. So have I seen, an Idiot in the street,  
Showing his ware to all that do him meet.   

3.  
Waking, when he hath far more need of sleep  
Against it do his sense's cent'ry keep,  
His eyes speak want; yet does his pride say not,  
He says he's sober when he's nothing so.  
Sim. So have I seen expenses that were large,  
When he could not defray one hafe o'th' charge.   

4.  
Sleepy, that friends can't raise him to a bed,  
Heavy with Drunkenness, as duller lead.  
The noise of dreadful thunder, nor of waves  
That Lion-like do roar, nor he that raves  
Tormented by Perillus' bull, or winds  
Impetuous rage this man still sleeping find's.  
Sim. So do Surgeons their Patients keep  
From sense of pain by a benumbing sleep.   

5.  
Angry, still finding fault, and ever thinking  
That he is jeered, never content (but drinking)  
Oh! he has no respect, not worthy he  
(And there he's right) of the good Company.  
His eyes read, glaring, rolling, sparkling so,  
A, if he would devour those that say no  
To his affirmed lies: in his short madness.  
Now are his cheeks become as pale as ashes,  
Than fiery, and swollen up, as with poison.  
His quiuring head and hands shaking upon  
His senseless Trunk, and his Lips quivering,  
His foul mouth foaming, and his tongue doubling,  
His reeling feet unconstantly shifting,  
And his full-gorged stomach always lifting,  
And the whole man wholly unlike himself,  
So furious is this our ridiculous else.  
Sim. So have I seen a Cur to by't the stones  
Thrown at him whereby he breaks his jawbones.   

6.  
Pleasant, he speaks as one learning the Sauter,  
Mopping and mowing he ingend'reth laughter  
By much of which a fool is known: how merry  
Is he become by drinking searching sherry?  
Dancing Courantes, and fine Northern Jigs,  
Unmercifully thumping wenches gigs.  
Sim. So here's the difference of this frolic wherry  
Others are mad fools; but this is the merry.   

7.  
Quarrelsome, as those that do whore and drab,  
Or Alexander who did Clitus stab.  
So that Tyrant Cambyses being reproved  
For Drunkeness shot his Son much beloved,  
And said unnatural Father, whose words stunk,  
See what a steady hand  now I'm Drunk.  
And some men than commonly give the Glove  
For desp'rate Duels where they, had firm love.  
Some men (some what more harmless) for they'll cusse  
On no occasion giving counter buss.  
Sim. So have I heard men (if I don't mistake them,)  
That know men's words better than they that speak them.   

8.  
Loving so fervently his drunken mate,  
That you would think there was no place for hate,  
Vowing he'll lend him hundreds, when alas!  
The borrower (God knows) his own case was.  
He love's, he love's, he love's with so great vigour,  
As you can scarce believe, (but 'tis the liquor)  
And he beginneth friendship with another,  
Who he doth swear shall be dearer than's Brother;  
But it may chance to fall e'er they do part,  
That he doth give his hand in lieu of heart.  
Sim. So have I seen two Children kiss each other  
But now, and presently each strike the other.   

9  
Faithful if't may be called so; for some  
Unto his friend a second will become,  
And to his drunken inflamed friend add fuel  
To perpetrate a wretched dangerous duel.  
Sim. So have I heard, that one did swear, and swagger  
He'd kill himself, and th' Devil reached a Dagger.   

10.  
Faithless pretending friendship; yet his coin  
Endeavouring by wiles for to purloyn,  
And by that cursed play of Cards, and Dices  
Trim up his own new clotheses with nits and lice.  
So doth the Crocodile weep, and yet watch  
If by his wiles a prey he well can catch.   

11.  
Valiant, he dare tell Belzebub he lies,  
And in this humour Hercules defies,  
Dare fight a Troup, outdare the thundering Ordnance,  
'Gainst every man his vapouring fists advance.  
But when he's sober he's another temper,  
And his surname is Innocentius semper.  
So have I heard one hath contemned the Mayor,  
And the next day hath waited at his stayr.   

12.  
Cowardly, and as Pusillanimous,  
As with the frog was that combating mouse  
In Aesop's Fables, or those famous Clowns  
By Sidney placed in the Arcadian downs,  
Each other by their Challenges so frighting,  
That they can scarce refrain their breeches—  
Box him, and beaten him, call him rogue, and rascal;  
Yet he most virtuously doth put up all.  
Sim. So have I seen a strayed our in ' th' streets,  
Bitten by all; yet cringes t'all he meets.   

13.  
Healthful, so that his stomach is not squesy,  
Although his wit may be somewhat too lazy.  
Sim. So have I seen at Sea a Seaman young,  
Not sick, but did no work, but with his tongue.   

14.  
Sick, that you'd counsel him to make his Will;  
But you in fine shan't found him half so ill.  
Sim. So have I seen a vagrant lame in show,  
That if detected, was found nothing so.   

15.  
Covetous in extremes, that he want pay  
His reckoning upon that self same day  
He did with Bacchus' feast, nor draw his coin;  
For he supposes his own hands purloyn.  
Sim. So have I seen the spirits tormenting rack  
Grudge at the clotheses he wore upon his back.   

16.  
Liberal, that he'll give his hat from's head,  
His Breeches from his britch; nay 'tis said  
His palfrey he'll present to him perchance,  
Through impudence that to him did advance.  
Sim. So have I seen a Child in a pleased vain  
Give's bread and butter, and cry for't again.   

17.  
Speaking like Marcus Tullius Cicero,  
His nimble tongue in its careers shall go  
Of all discourse a true Monopoliser,  
When as (God wots) he scarce is thought the wiser.  
Sim. So have I heard Rooks to vociferate,  
When birds far more harmonious still sat:   

18.  
Dumb, as was Aesop, and a mouth as shut,  
As he for prating whose Coxcomb was cut;  
As mute as fishes are, creatures immured,  
Or those that have not wit to speak a word.  
Sim. So have I seen a Malefactor's crime  
Hath made him speechless for that dreadful time   

19  
Lame as the Savoy can afford, his feet  
Alas! subject too often for to meet:  
A true Noun Adjective cant stand alone;  
But as th' Maeanders on Indentures done,  
Sim. So reel his feebled feet. So have I seen  
A man in sickness that full weak hath been.   

20.  
Walking, that by his well-trod steps you'd think,  
Drink was'nt in him, nor was the man in drink;  
So like a sober man, and not defeated,  
That wiser men than I might well be cheated,  
Sim. So are there whores like honest women; shame!  
For every like (ye know) is not the same.   

21.  
Secret, he wi'nt declare what he will do.  
You shall not know when he to— does go,  
Nor when he kissed that handsome woman: no;  
His secrets in his secret breast do grow.  
Sim. So have I seen men in an high-stretched frolic  
Whisper th' escape of the tormenting Colic.   

22.  
Open, he'll tell you what purse he did cut,  
That he did lie with such a dirty slut,  
What are his resolutions, how fine  
He will be when at such a place he dine.  
Sim. So have I known a wench whose tongue did burn  
In sleep to tell who did her a good turn.   

23.  
Lecherous, unto Whores, to girls, to boys,  
To dirty drabs, and in such brutish ways,  
As whether it may 'cause my grief, or mirth  
I know not, but the vilest Jade on'th Earth  
Was for his turn, with, Madam, one salute,  
Sometimes she's stubborn, sometimes prostitute.  
Sim. So do we see the fever crave for cold,  
When it is present death I dare be bold.   

24.  
Chased as Diana, because lust is past,  
I therefore think it scarce is called chaste.  
Sim. So is occult a murderous intent,  
Because his murderous humour hath no vent.   

25.  
Careful of all his friends that have excess  
Even unto riot by their Drunkenness.  
O cover him saith he upon the bed,  
Because the bolder wine hath stormed his head,  
Lend him your hand down those two dangerous stairs,  
Wake him betime, to think on his affairs.  
Sim. So have I seen one that excusded his friend  
From drinking much; yet he hath drunk his end.   

26.  
Careless, he weigs nor life, nor limb, nor gold,  
Hazards his life, and limb, throws gold untold,  
And swears he'll pave the house therewith, he hates  
That odious crew of ruminating pates.  
Sim. So have I seen men mazed at Sea, and stand  
Expecting Death whilst freed by ' another hand.   

27.  
Proud, and so haughty, that a poor Mechanic  
Shall not the drops fallen on the Table lick,  
Wonders at man's intrusions, and think's  
The man much honoured still that with him drinks,  
He that he cuffs, is knighted, and his spit  
Miraculously doth engender wit.  
Sim So have I seen a man conceive applaud  
From Auditors, when his conceit was fraud.   

28.  
Humble, that he'll salute him, that before  
He would have honoured with a nod, not more,  
Your very humble Servant, Sir: I vow,  
As at the Heathen Altars so he'll bow  
Sim. To every man. So doth the Mast i'th'wind:  
But it impetuosity combined.   

29.  
Mad, that he makes men camping-bals, he wrings  
Man's arms, as Butts of wine are wrung in slings.  
He tears the Clotheses, abuse your fame, and thumbs,  
Your faces, backs, your bellies and your bumbs.  
Sim. As hardly tame doth reason such men's spirits,  
As water, fire; or counsel Bedlamites.   

30.  
Quiet, he th'object, you the Instrument,  
Do to him what your wits can e'er invent,  
He is not moved, he is no man of passion;  
But is, alas! an object of compassion.  
Sim. So have I seen a mad Bull so bemired,  
That his mad Frenzy now is wholly tired.  
In fine, all Writers, that did, do, or ever can  
Writ learnedly, can ne'er define this man,  
This Proteus metamorphised to shapes  
Of all beasts; but most like to those of Apes.    

The Rhymer routed. satire 4. OR, Replies to R. D. his Papers by N. de Monford. R. D. his first Paper.  

A Cup of good Sack  
To strengthen the back,  
brought home by the good Shipmaster;  
I pray you good NICK,  
At this time be you quick,  
You shall be the Poëtaster.   
The Reply.  
O who DOB, who— what turned a Poët-tarter?  
So have I Music heard from a skilled farter;  
But there are accents, and your Verse had none;  
And if they'd sense, than were my senses go:  
But you will say 'twas Fancy. Such a look,  
As he that mistook a bold tenter-hook  
That seized upon his Cloak, fearing a brute,  
And ruder Sergeant, said, Sir, at whose suit?  
In such confused fear, I fear you writ  
This Sonnet, and by it think your duller wit  
Did want the thing you spoke of, quickening sack,  
Than be good fellow ROBIN, you shan't lack  
A half pint from him, who when you do come  
Shall wish the Muse speak better, or be dumb.    


R. D. Watchmaker, his second Paper.  

SO go Sir NICHLIS go,  
Your verses like Tobias dog, so, so,  
Whatsoever you seem to be,  
There is more Poets than we;  
For tainter hooks, they are in rook-alley,  
Near to the travally:  
And for my Cloak, I have but one  
Once paid for good deed done.  
For the thing you call my fancy,  
'Tis my wife, her name NANCY.  
There are those drink sack in Beer-glasses,  
Yet go free of Poet's lashes:  
Every Poet hath his Brother,  
Let's not lash one another:  
We are brave fellows both,  
No matter who is master,  
So long we have the troth,  
And love the Poëtaster.  
Thus much I thought for to rehearse,  
And here I writ my Comment on the Verse.  
Which by yourself are beautified:  
Not by me villifide ♑  
But rather gratified: v  
If not by you mis-edifide  
They are well fortified †  
As also well qualifide oh  
Which if yourself have justifide x  
And from good Sack mortified ☋  
Which as yet was never certifide  
And under your hand testifide: ‑  
For which you shall be notefide T  
Of such as are stupefide  
When their brains are purified FIVE  
And with much lashing mundifide):  
Unpared and unexemplifide ( 
Or at lest so much rectifide y  
That you deserve to be stilefide ⋮  
And also ⋮ deified  
In the mean time your fame is magnifide ⸪  
Your person dignifide †  
I hope you will be satisfied T  
When you are not damnifide X  
If your fame be turpefide):  
And your pains be ladifide ( 
You shall not than be nullifide †  
Nor yet by me ratified ( 
Our work you have not mollifide  
Nor calamities amplifide 2  
And so my lash is wearifide ♈   

The strange explanation of the Characters.  
Ϲ Kiss my Hostess, † muzel her maid Ϲ railed on  
Half drunk 2 drunk in ample manner  
T To know drunk or sober.  
Thus the Verse with quoted margin,  
And so I end the Cloak and Sergeant.   

(He gins again)  
W That is chidden for being halfdrunk  
V To get a Fox and cost nothing  
♑ That is mistaken in drinking  
† That is drunk a Cup in a morning  
Qualifide: that is, Civil in drink  
X That is, drink of the whole Cup  
☋ That is, give over small Beer  
= That is, to know when to drink  
☊ I have pledged the health  
T Known for a good drinker  
☋ Sleep after drunkenness  
ע Cast in your stomach  
Begin on a Monday as do Shoemakers  
Ϲ Fox mine Host  
∷ Railed on for not paying the shot  
A Hey still: go home before night  
⋮ For holding out † for drinking to the bottom  
† Paying the shot x going on the score  
7: Clip the Kings English.    

REPLY.  
DULMAN, know I'm a Merchant more than Vintner,  
Though I abide at home these times of winter;  
And your torn numbers and your piece-meal rhyme  
●n which you keep not measure, tune, or time,  
〈◊〉 have received, deceived, sigh you so so it,  
And sigh I did mistake you for a Poet.  
Kind Brother, sigh thou takest all upon thee,  
(Dear one-Cloke) much admired by fools, and me.  
Dull Rhymer, know I am as much above  
Thy foolish anger, as thy flaming love.  
Methinks I heard thee, and thy Muse thus mutter,  
(And I scarce heard ye, ye did both so stutter)  
" Hold for the Lord-sake Nich 'las, jest you take us,  
" And use us worse than Hercules used Cacus!  
But fear not, ROBIN, sigh thou know'st my spirit,  
And that pure love my milder breast inherit;  
Nor let thy years despair to writ again,  
I'll learn a boy in five, nay, thee in ten.  
Thy falfc spell made a Comet in thy verse,  
Whenas thou meantest a Comment to rehearse,  
Which might have made thee seen as well as I,  
That thou shouldst fall great Prince of Poëtry.  
I wonder much that thou shouldst so long use it,  
And take delight to seek to be abused.  
Your reverend years do almost me deter  
From writing of your proper Character:  
Startle not at it, though it seemeth tart,  
IT as no more Gunpowder, than has a—  

The Character.  
A Hoary head, an elocution,  
As those that march to execution;  
And in a crowd, if one should strike a blow,  
His brains might be struck out he is so slow  
In making of his just defence. O pity!  
Such a bad utterance in a man so witty.  
His face when I first saw, I said God sent us,  
I think, th' effigies of Macelenius;  
But hear ye, mark ye me. O sweeter Sire!  
This man in Winter makes his dear wife's fire,  
And watches all the day, except one bring  
Tidings V to get a Fox, and cost nothing;  
And more than this the man is a rare singer,  
And Charactered, and T known for a good drinker;  
And like the wiser men of famous Gotham,  
He is renowned for † diving to the bottom  
Of the profowdest bowls; in fine a Greek  
That doth as Shoemakers begin with week,  
And I do fear, yet doeth ' contrary wish,  
You were half drunk clipping the King's English,  
In this your brainsick brain-work. OH be quiet!  
Or else go feed upon a wittier diet:  
And if you were drunk when you writ, go sleep on,  
Sigh you were beaten poor man with your own weapon.  
And mark ye me, hereafter always writ  
Only to him whom your fierce verses fright,  
And cannot answer; for I see't is vain  
To writ to him can answer you again;  
But if your folly shan't be ne'er forgotten  
Than I will jeer you unto dead, and rotten.   

The Epilogue.  
IT may be (Gentlemen) you'll blame me much,  
That I did here enter the Lists with such;  
But if a Child, or maimed man do post  
One that contemns him: lo! his credit's lost,  
If he accepts him not; And though they'nt gainers,  
Yet it is meet to beaten such to good manners.  
This Thing is such an one: I thought my answer  
Sufficient was; but that he was an Anser.  
Than mine unto his second paper, I  
Assuredly did think would satisfy;  
He yet persists, appointing three of's Friends  
To judge of our tongue-Combate, and his ends  
Of Poetry; 'twas judged, and yet the Stint  
Had a desire to be a fool in Print.  
Wherhfore that I might fully palates please  
 set ye here a dish of mouldy cheese:  
And do demand a better Champion,  
Than such an one, as Chevy-Chase did chant on,  
Wishing the Reader to pronounce him yeoman,  
Commanding him to sing to babes, and women.     

Colendissimo, literatissimoque Moecenati D. Martino HOLBEACH. The Travels: satire 5.  

I Must confess, dear Sir, I must confess,  
I'm bound to pray, that God still would you bless,  
As men obliged use to do; but hold,  
O foolish Muse! verses thou know'st ar'nt gold,  
And Debts are paid with coin, with lovely coin,  
Than I will re-pay you in your own Coin;  
Was it not letters that you learned me, say?  
Than I will pay you in the selfsame way;  
But that can not be so, for some have sworn  
That Poets are not made, but rather born.   

I have another fetch. They say that friends  
Covet to hear their friends Adventures; ends  
Are but bad presents, and I would be loath  
To give your longing mind lesle than whole cloth.   

Since I ran from Minerva's Temple: fie,  
Need driven me out. Why should I than so lie?  
 seen the seventeen-headed Belgia,  
And that most fruitful land called Gallia;  
 seen also most pleasant Germany,  
And in all three too much Idolatry,  
And Profanation. O! who would think,  
Their Towns half drowned with water, they with drink?  
The high and mighty States there's weakness in,  
There are some Heathens with most Christian King,  
And the famed Majesty Imperial,  
In his Empire, alas, commands not All.   

I have observed, if I may it say,  
That which full many men would pass away.   

Laurel-crowned Caesar, and the potent French King,  
With ' potent States are led within a ring  
Of endless turmoils, and of lasting strife,  
These are dependants on a Prince's life.  
Antiochus his words I verify,  
" That Kingly rule is noble slavery;  
And if my Travels had as Sand's his been,  
I could naught see but vanity and Sin,  
With Spirits great vexation.— I lie,  
Sometimes I find a minute's jollity.   

The rolling French, and throat-hoarse Dutch I vow,  
Are nothing like the language used with you,  
Yours is right Caesar's right tongue, and I wish  
I had fed longer upon that sweet dish;  
Yet travel hath emboldened me, and I  
Have pieced my Latin with mine Industry;  
So that I take no counsel from the Judge  
To give him answers, if he doth not grudge  
To ask me questions in the Latin tongue;  
But 'tis not with us, as 'tis you among,  
If we break Priscian's head, we than with laughter  
Say 'tis chance-medley, and not dire manslaughter.   

Here I read all the world in Amsterdam,  
People of Abra'm, and th'Tartarian Cham,  
Hot-livered Spaniard, and the sprightly French,  
Who dance best Antics, and best court a wench,  
The swarthy Portugal, and to be brief,  
Of all of Babel's languages the chief;  
Only I must make bold to make intrusion,  
There's order here, as there was wild confusion;   

And here are some things too which are most vile,  
And some things which do make my worship smile.  
A man may gnaw, walking i'th' Streets if 'tis clear,  
He shan't be Burgemaster the next year.  
They're far from pride, for they call every man  
(Without Sir) by's name; or Tom, or Sam,  
With Uncle to't, or Father; and  heard  
An old man call a child Father; deterred  
I was to hear it, jest the good Old man  
Was out his Wits by some smart-gnawing pain.   

And now they slay their Brethrens; every Boor,  
And Shopkeeper hath one slain at his door;  
So that I thought the men were Butchers all;  
Yet Sattin-doublets scarce become the Stall.  
They're of opinion too, that th'Sabbath-day  
Was ned made to work, but for a worse thing, P'ay:  
Accordingly they ramble out the Town  
To give their Wives and Sweethearts a green-gown;  
And if a man says unto you Avou,  
He never meant the Cann should come to you;  
But playeth children's play; and is it so  
Said I? than mine out of my hands shan't go;  
And if there be a quarrel or a strife,  
Than it must be decided by the Knife.   

But this I'll say, and this truth me affords,  
They are true hearts, the Frenchmen but mere words;  
They have more good too, for they all employ  
That filthy idleness would else destroy.  
They shame most Nations by their Industry,  
And with them is the truest Palmistry;  
●or they can see what Fortunes men shall have,  
As he by's lab'rous hands doth gain or save;  
They make all Children Children, and the youngest  
Must share the greatest share the rest amongst;  
●or th'oldest are brought up, and they don't spy  
What help Brethrens do give, not more do I   

The French exceed in Complemency, and  
Men should in all things sometimes make a stand:  
They're superstitious too, and Pharisees;  
●or in the streets to pray, they'll swarm like Bees  
●n their Processions; and the Peasants  
To speak the truth are mere, mere, mere pedants;  
●ut th' Gentry are the maps of Courtesy,  
●nd the deservers of Nobility.  
Thus if I show not Learning, nor Fancy,  
Nor by all styled noble Industry,  
Nor proved affection, I think not lesle,  
But that you see a striving thankfulness   
In your servant N. M.   

The Epitaph upon the right worshipful Thomas Slany Mayor of Lyn.  

STay Passenger, and let thy trav'ling eye  
Read here lies all the frail mortality  
Of a good Mayor, and prudent Captain,  
Industrious Merchant, who did screw the main  
In such long voyages, that I prefer  
Him an imbettered, far-gone Traveller  
Here lies a Saint: I lie, for his sweet spirit  
Is go to God where it shall ever inherit  
Incessant joys; and in frail flesh all spy  
There can not be an entire sanctity,  
So that the Saints in Heaven: but behold here  
Doth lie a well-beloved Commissioner  
Of ill-beloved Excise, a true black Swan,  
And yet unspotted, conscientious man.  
Here lies the man of approved moderation,  
Alas, we want such Pillars in our Nation!  
Here lies the true great Almoner of the poor,  
And therefore cruel Death was their undoer,  
Ah! for that which he did, was but a part  
Of that which was resolved in his heart;  
But being now dissolved, o receivers  
Of God, the poor are called, I fear deceivers  
Of expectation will promise' such;  
But when they die will not give half so much.   

Anag. Proud Death hath slain this man although so deer,  
And in contempt of mortals nails him here.  
His knowledge came from Heaven, and thereto  
Did lend when here he did intent to do.  
I doubt whether he gave, or else received  
Moore honour by his Gown with justice reaved.  
He loved public peace, although his stars  
Allotted him to live in homebred wars.  
He was hated (although it seemeth roved;  
Because he could not be enough beloved.  
To others good he was intent so much,  
That he seemed to neglect himself, None such!  
He overcame himself, and left to try  
Whether he lived, or died more piously?  
He wrung tears from envy itself now slain,  
And lives in mouths, and minds of men again.    

An Elegy on the death of Mr. William Barnard, Son of John Barnard of Kingston upon Hull Esq  

Will Pens lie still when such a Subject is  
Of our approaching misery, though his Bliss?  
Can Poets silent be when Prophets dye?  
Or was his death without a mystery?  
O, would there had been such a constant race  
In some Arch-Bishops of their scanted Grace!   

Amired seaventeen! that melts the eye  
Of England's Eye, the University.  
Spiritual, and yet by Phlegm o'er come,  
Who when of God disputing, all were dumb!   

Friends can't but grieve, that thou coming to Town,  
Passed by their Houses, and didst lay thee down  
At thine old Inn the Star; thou mindest thy way  
So much that thou wouldst not make any stay.   

And like great Alexander, who did aver  
Himself to be the Son of Jupiter,  
And not of Philip; so thou seemed'st here,  
To own Jehovah, leave thy Father dear.  
Alas! I can not make Cities to mourn  
With levelled walls in grief excessive torn  
By Alexander for his dear friends death  
Nor in Panegyrics to spend my breath  
As th' Ancients did; yet I will raise a Tomb  
Shall last until the last of days do come;  
Shall live when Marble dies: These numbers here  
Shall on Record in th' days to come appear.   

O, this 'tis to be good! the rotten ways  
Of some lewd youths deserve not these our Bayss.  
Is there one more in th' University,  
Nay in the universe so good as He?  
England, thou want'st more Barnard's;— o, that I  
Might live, and dye, o God, so holily!   

Ah, hadst thou lived, thy Life would have made Rules  
For Graduates, and made the most bear Gules  
Within their Faces for the obvious shame,  
That would accost them hearing of thy Fame.  
Thou that amazed the Schoolmen, commonly  
In most discourse preaching Divinity.  
Throw down thy Quill, my Muse, and pray have done,  
'Tis vain to put a Candle to the Sun.    

An ACROSTIC.  

W—It so refined, as th'purer Gold, so prized;  
I—ngenuous, that men Him Idolised.  
L—aw both Divine and Human he much knew;  
L—earning beyond his Years (God knows) but few:  
I—ngenious, and than applied to merit:  
A—miable, whose sweet Diviner spirit  
M—ajesty great and comely did inherit.   

B—eauty of Holiness possessed his heart;  
A—rts were in him (wonder!) beyond all Art:  
R—ighteousness dwelled within his Soul. His Pen  
(N—aso-like) won the hearts of Learned men.  
A—rms he bore against Vice: As forced with charms,  
R—eading good Authors: Fit 'gainst Lusts alarms;  
D—oing (the best of Cures) and yet no harms.    

EPITAPH.  
HEre lies grave Youth, Wisdom sublime,  
Second devout S. BERNARD in his Time.  
A Sophister, yet hating Sophistry;  
(If I should say his Spirit lies here, I lie)  
Some Doctor's Freshmen are compared with Him,  
And their great Lights compared with His are dim.  
If Scholars ask what his Degree was; even  
This young-old Saint commenced not here, but ' n Heaven.  
Such Sons, such Scholars, and such Saints as He,  
Are not for Men but for the Deity:  
And if thou'dst know (Reader) who here doth lie,  
Here lies a Man to judge an Angel by.  
One so prepared for Death: that (certainly)  
Brave Soul, he only took one day to dye;  
Yet, Reader, thou mayst still inquire whose Tomb 17.  
This is; than thou shalt know at th'day of doom. 17.  
His years in number to these numbers come. 17.   

Elegij-Epithalamion: To his endeared Bro. in Law T. S. on the death of his CHILD.  
SWeet babe, I do admire thy wiser course,  
That to end pain had so timely recourse  
Unto the way of lasting happiness  
By Death who unto Heaven the Usher is;  
" For Life's a frost of cold felicity,  
" And Death a thaw of all our misery;  
thou'rt freed from freezing winters, summer's parching,  
Thirst, hunger, anger, sorrow, love, hate, things  
Which make life miserable; now cursed War,  
And fearful pestilence are from thee far:  
Both mind, and Carcase pihching poverty  
Don't interrupt thy blessed tranquillity;  
Vice-drawing Richeses in thy station  
Can not delude thee by temptation;  
Enchanting beauty though never so brave  
By all her sleights can thee not now enslave,  
And now ear-tickling, and heart-swelling Fame  
Can't make thee proud to get a glorious name.  
Ambitious honour can't swell up thy mind  
To leave the taunt of Treason vile behind.  
Lust, Pride, nor Avarice, Sloth, Drunkenness,  
Slander nor any thing can thee unblesse.  
" Long use of life is as a lingering foe,  
" And gentle Death the only end of woe;  
And this in all men's eyes surely seems plain,  
Life is but lost, where Death is counted gain.  
The longer life, the greater is our guilt,  
Life must by life be paid, and so life's spilt.  
Thou couldst not bear the burden of distress,  
Therefore this life to thee were wretchedness.  
We first do bud, than bloom, than seed, last fall  
So do our shadows turn nothing at all.  
Wherhfore thy death no Elegy comes on;  
But a joyful Epithalamion;  
Or if we be so foolish, as to weep,  
Thou dost thy joy in the Heavens keep,  
Which was created glorious, and which  
Is delectable, beautiful, and rich;  
For habitation comfortable; for  
There the King Christ is, the Law love, th' Honour  
Pure verity, the Peace felicity,  
The most sweet life, lasting Eternity.  
There's light without darkness; mirth without sadness;  
True health without flesh-consuming sickness;  
Wealth without want; credit without disgrace;  
Beauty without blemish, (not on a face;)  
Ease without labour; richeses without rust;  
(Nothing that frets is there, nor dirt, nor dust)  
Beatitude ' thou't misery God lends;  
And consolation that never ends.  
Now I am not content, but fast resolved,  
When God doth see his time, to be dissolved.   


Elegy on one HUNT a Groom, slain by his fellow-servant (being unarmed) upon some words, he having in haste (other servants being absent) carried his Master a basin of water, before Gentlemen, with his Doublet of.  
To Sir R.S.  

GRieve not, dear Sir; for what man e'er could vaunt,  
That he had never a rash, foolish Servant?  
Or what man, though he were full wise and holy,  
But in his House sometimes hath happened folly?  
What was Amnon's unto his sister, o!  
Why than do you torment your Spirit so?   

I should have thought (his doublet of) he might  
Before have thought upon this simple fight:  
But than we should have found him better armed,  
And than the Knave had not the fool so harmed.   

Thou Varlet, Coward, Irchin, Mans-shame, weasel,  
Couldst thou armed, fight one armed with Heasell?  
O unheard of pusillanimity!  
And, o, unparallelled simplicity!   

Where were the noble Spirits, and the hands,  
That used to combat it on Calais sands?  
They used to change their weapons, and to see,  
Most nobly, that their lengths did'nt disagree;  
Or have their Seconds, or their Surgeons  
To search them, and their arms: but out upon's!  
That e'er blood ran in veins so base, ignoble,  
Or that a Sword was drawn by such a babble!   

And, o, thou Coxcomb Groom, that were't forewarned  
By his Duel-like words, and not fore-armed!  
For, if thou hadst had with thee tempered steel,  
You both might have been heard, and yet not feel—  
Each others blows, and (now) that fatal day  
Might happy been, in parting of the fray.   

Good God? what thing is man, that breaks thy laws  
For matters of poor flies, or meaner straws?  
Such Cainabals sure are incorrigible;  
For thou forbad'st it e'er since Cain killed Abel.  
Thou wretched Dueller, now that good Tree,  
(That wont was) cannot (now) shelter Thee:  
For (now) it not only can't shelter Thee,  
But pours received water (now) upon Thee!  
Wherhfore we see, to perpetrate a Duel,  
Before both God and Man is to doe-ill.    

EPITAPH.  
Here lies one, whom Death did HUNT  
From the womb unto the Font;  
Watching him at advantages,  
With naked sword he at him flies:  
And being a WALKER he outran,  
And wounded mortally this Man.  
I thought the Groom had not been able  
T'have shunned the danger of the Stable  
By furious Horses: But, alas,  
Those scaped; he was slain by an Ass!    

An Elegy upon the Death of my Daughter Amy.  

I Am not as that Emperor, who did  
The nuntios of the death of's Son forbidden  
To be made known by's Spouse, or by his Servant;  
And therefore she by sable weeds did plant  
That knowledge in his troubled head. Nor as  
The King 
† Aegeus  that (but suspecting his child, was  
Destroyed) seeing the Ships blacker, come as  
By shadow of the Sun, or age, alas!  
Did from a rock, his Son than sailing by,  
Add to his Triumph, a sad Tragedy.   

Nor as one of our 
* R. 2.  Kings; whose passion  
For his lost Lady, made him so far gone  
In a kind of wild frenzy, for to raze,  
And make a Chaos and confused Maze  
O'th' House where Death her struck: yet I can grieve,  
(Dear Babe) that God didn't give thee a reprieve  
For some few years, sigh I am confident  
My sins thee from this Earth away have rend.  
Ah! how I sigh that beauty's rival is  
Converted to the poor impurer ashes!  
That Globe-like face, those twinkling stars thine eyes,  
That Angel's face, that front that did arise  
Like Heavens milky way, those purer hands  
That would have bound Gallants in amorous bands,  
If thou hadst lived; that equal symmetry  
That made men judge thee pure Divinity,  
" And truly I do think of worse and less,  
The Heathen's made them Gods, and Goddesses.  
Who ever saw such matron looks? such smiles?  
Such speaking actions? woman-childish wiles  
To make herself disport? but o! I make  
Myself new grief, and make my heart reak!  
In meditating of thy change so fast  
By a Consumption that thou seemed to fast,  
Whose body was so light it might have go  
To Heaven without a resurrection.   

So frail a thing is flesh! so have I seen  
The Princely Rose, the fragrant flowers Queen  
honouring a Garden one day, and the next  
Look pale like one with anger much perplexed.  
Ah! here I see seeming Angelic beauty;  
A watery bubble, vanity, a lie!   

I think't not meet to tear the Earth's moist womb  
To make thee a too large half Acre Tomb,  
Nor am I able, nor as Hatton's be  
Above the House a mounting Pyramid.  
What profit thee a sheet of Lead? what good  
If on thy Course a Marble quarry stood?  
Long, and large Epitaphs what good have they?  
They're but accounted mere Tautology.  
And Epitaph's (I think) upon the dead  
Are better fare not written than not read.    

The EPITAPH.  
HEre lies wise and beauteous dust,  
Ah, for mortality hath rust!  
Beauteous, if Ingredients be  
The ruddy-Rose and white Lilly.  
Wise to dye, sigh Life was pain,  
And Death in Christ, not loss but gain.  
Lastly a mystery was adoing,  
In nine months coming, nine months going,  
And as nine Muse's verses showing.   

Elegy by the Author unto his yokefellow from beyond the Seas.  
I Know thou can not choose but laugh to see,  
That I again in verse do now court Thee:  
When you should court with due obedience  
They say, poor men! that of its want of sense,  
However men don't use a siege to lay  
Unto that Town that give's them peaceful way:  
But I from Amiana now apart  
Must stay; yet Heaven doth know she has my heart.  
Oh! see our Heavenly Father now will have  
That unrest that thy earthly once us gave,  
We must not for a time enjoy each other,  
Which makes me think on that which you do smother  
In dark oblivion. The pleasant Nights!  
That you, and I performed Lovers rights  
In giving each the other's soul, and yet  
Thou never foundst me lustful Marmorit,  
Nor I thee Helen; for I dare protest  
Our purer loves could well endure the test  
Of continency, and of constancy;  
For frowning Friends could never make us lie.  
And Heavens best know thou mightst Adonis be  
For any knowledge that I had of Thee,  
Or an Hermaphrodite, and thou I know  
Didst not know if I were man, or not,  
Or a virago Metamorphized,  
Which would betray lawful pleasures in bed.  
Well thou the loadstone; I the Iron was,  
Thou lovedst me, and I no Debtor was.  
What harm did we by out immortal love?  
We taught false lovers fraud for to remove.  
" What Merchant's ships have our swelling sighs drowned?  
" Who says our tears have overflowed his ground?  
methinks this should be comfort to you now,  
He that you trusted did hold truth with you.  
Indeed it grieved me that the babe should be  
So sick, as when I parted last from thee,  
A babe so like us both, that they do say  
She is her Father's picture, than say they  
She is not so, she's like her mother; troth  
Say'th the wisest, I think she's like them both,  
And thou sayest (pars pro toto) if she die,  
Than thou poor soul within her grave must lie.  
But pry thee think of Abrams faith, and trust;  
For Abrams faith, entitled Abram just:  
When God had bid him sacrifice his Son,  
His only Son, and he would have it done;  
But God prepared a Lamb, since he had tried  
That Abrams outward show had not belied  
His heart; wherefore trust in him, and thou'lt see,  
His Providence upon both her and me.   

The INN.  

IF I be (Gentlemen) in my will crossed,  
And cannot wait on you, pray read your Host,  
Whose Muse (such as it is) presumed herein,  
To speak somewhat of him, Servants and Inn;  
And though I soar not, sorry I should be,  
Sigh here's no wit, if not some industry;  
And I do this entreat, and only so,  
Read it if ye have nothing else to do;  
For ye know well by LAW it is in USE,  
And therefore GOOD, not BAD (if no abuse.)   

LAWFUL Sigh in the sacred Word we see  
To Wayfarers such place appointed be;  
And who with it a cavil dare begin,  
Sigh God the Word hath taken up his Inn?   

Than use it well, and not use ill yourselves;  
For that is it which makes your Ships but shelves.  
Best things abused we know are made bad,  
Wine made to make the heavy, sad heart glad,  
If too much taken causeth Drunkenness,  
And Gluttony proceeds from meats excess.  
Meet vestures doted on, all men deride,  
And beasts old clothes ill-used, are turned to Pride:  
But this infers not that we use no wine,  
Or that we should not breakfast, sup, or dine,  
Or that because fine Clotheses make fond fools proud,  
We should use Heavens' tapestry, a Cloud,  
And nothing else to cover us. O no!  
For you may safely herein further go:  
But use it lawfully, and there's no flaw;  
For 'tis allowed by the Common-Law.  
Only he that intends to keep an Inn,  
Must pray to God to keep out entering Sin.  
USEFUL if Merchant's bargain, or if they  
Are gathering up their Bargains first-fruits onth ' way,  
And there on equal terms two parties meet,  
(That cannot friendly see each in the Street)  
And have their business arbitrated; since  
Each man in's House hath a pre-eminence.   

It tells us that we are but Travellers,  
And that our Journey tends unto the Stars.  
And that we have not an abiding home,  
Until we do unto Olympus come.   

Far Travellers can tell ye th'benefit  
Of a good Inn, and give't that Epithet:  
Nay, I am not the first that did begin  
To say, nothing's more useful than an Inn—  
When fiery Sol doth parch the moistening humour,  
When to quench thirst, the traveler is a fumer,  
When tedious way hath toiled the new-come guest,  
He finding welcome, how sweet is his rest!  
When SANDS in's Travails in wild sands had been,  
How welcome than was his oft-wished Inn!  
And ye are here as welcome, if ye please.  
Or e'er you were in all your passed days.   

But to proceed, useful was that Hostess  
(At first as they say) but of Holiness,  
And honour a sweet Lady HELENA,  
Who was the truly-beauteous Celia,  
Not ignorant of the Wayfarer's curer;  
Good Hostess; for Physician ne'er was surer.  
Good Hostess, that would be a Stable-keeper,  
So in her heart of Christ she might be keeper.  
Thus ye see Holiness came from an Inn,  
And a brave Nobleman (ye know) was seen  
To love and court the Daughter of an Host  
With honour too, and thought his love not lost;  
For worth is found in them by worthies often,  
Although for bad ones, good ones often are scoffed;  
Nay, reverend DOD said once he had been lost,  
If great Jehovah had not been his Host.  
Who's that that calls me, would you have me fly?  
The other two you shall have by and by.   

NOT BAD, for here your Host shan't draw you on  
To loose your time by base delusion,  
Your Hostess neither show herself so wild,  
As of her honesty to be beguiled.  
The Drawer shall not withdraw what is due  
In measure in the half pints that ensue.  
The Tapster neither by his fraud, nor sloth  
Shall dare to bum your Jugg with cheating froth.  
The Maid shan't show with a lascivious Art  
That lechery doth harbour in her heart.  
And the Host'ler shall be no Oat-stealer:  
But to your speechless horses a just dealer.  
What servant have I that dare others prompt,  
Or do't himself to add to your Account?  
And for myself, and second take my word,  
Our consciences will not such Acts afford.  
Only as ye are dealt by; so I pray,  
For what ye call, and have ye'll please to pay.   

BUT GOOD. For Sabboth-dayes shan't be profaned,  
Although the wider world thereby be gained;  
And cursing, swearing, and such Godless deeds,  
I do desire to pluck up, as bad weeds.   

But if you lodge, or bargain, or be merry,  
You having Beer, tobacco, and my Sherry,  
Canary, Malligo, French-wine, or what  
My House affords, if ye accept but that  
In civil ways; for o! I'd not begin  
To answer for another man's gross sin!  
And gray-coat, bare-coat shall have due respect,  
Only thereby no Gentlemen neglect.  
Whereby I hope our star terrestrial  
Shall prove itself truly celestial,  
And (Gentlemen) at your peculiar cost,  
Ye're welcome kindly to your younger Host:   

And since his Inn's so good, o be so good!  
As not to drown your Host within a flood  
Of wild and merciless strong Beer, and Wine;  
For if ye do, the fault will not be mine,  
If servants serve you badly, for my eye  
Makes guests all times served observantly,  
Nay, if ye force your Host to be a Copper,  
Your Hostess absent, ye may loose your supper:   

Lastly I have adventured often by Sea;  
But fear 'tis greater now to use this Plea;  
For some men have such uncontrolled spirits,  
That at my words they'll rave like Bedlamites.  
Thus your Host shows in his Poetic mood  
His Inn Lawful, Useful, not Bad but good.  
The end of the Moral Poems.  
NE PLUS ULTRA.    

TRINUNI DEO, SACRUM. In nomine Sacro Sanctae & individuae Trinitatis, AMEN.   

Long-suffering.  
THe Hawk preys on the trembling Partridge, and  
Chickens do feel the Kites harsh hand,  
The smaller fresh-fish that do haunt the Dike,  
Are justly fearful of the Pike.  
The Fish at Sea, that have not strength their Bulwark,  
Do tremble much for fear o'th' Shark.  
The stronger beasts the weaker e'er did rule,  
The surly Lion bangs the Mule.  
Great Princes castigate (ofttimes) the lesle,  
The strong man beats the weak t'excess.  
But, OH my God, I skill not these thy ways!  
Thou dost deserve our bounden praise!  
Thou that to Atoms couldst the world convert,  
In a short time, as thou in making were't.  
Thou that couldst take the breath out of the Nostril,  
Which we, OH God, do daily feel;  
Who art displeased with our heinous sin,  
Thy mercies, Lord, dost not hold in.—  
Is this th'manner of men, o my Lord God  
What man forgives with power shod?  
And can it be my God doth still forgive!  
I will leave sin than, if I live.   

SHIPWRECK, OR, An Elegy on the Drowning of John Olly, and his whole Company at Sea, by the overwhelming of his Ship, etc.  
I Can't dispute what was the cause the Ship  
Wrestling with Ocean should receive this trip.  
I know the Northern Seas are dangerous,  
Men say the Master was too covetous;  
But I see many do arrive their Port,  
And judge the other barely a report.  
Some think the Ship was ill-conditioned,  
And from the Sea did turn her crazy head,  
O God, thou know'st the cause, and only thou  
Who lettest some pass in, and some pass through—  
The surly waves. O that we here beneath  
Can think we were within an inch of death,  
When in a Ship! But the contagion  
To those used to't, is never thought upon.  
Perhaps, o God, some in the Ship might think  
Their drink their God; therefore thou gav'st them drink.  
Perhaps, some thought their goods their God, o brave!  
And therefore thou saidst, Let your Gods ye save,  
Whom ye adore; and without question  
This thing was given us to look upon  
With more than common eyes; of good 'tis full,  
It shows thee Just and also Merciful.  
Just, for thou art just in all these thy ways,  
And for thy Mercy, Lord, we must thee praise.  
What? but one moment thinking the Ship safe,  
And in another, post the help o'th' weaf!  
Merchant and Master might think on Lynn Haven  
But now: now taking of a voyage to Heaven.  
O thou, my soul, take thou a great remorse  
On those that trust (vain trust) in Ships of force.  
Her Ordnance that sometime do stand in steed,  
Now in the Storm might do the fatal deed.  
O the sad shriek of the poor Company,  
That now, now, now must dye so mis'rably!  
How did Death sit within their looks? was there  
Time to make their Repentance true, sincere?  
Was there none swearing in that dangerous Storm?  
Or did the fear of Death them all transform?  
Yet, Lord, thy ways of Providence we hollow;  
For thou sometimes receiv'st souls from the gallow;  
And these might have, as large warning i'th' Storm;  
Alike the Deluge general Microcosm;  
The waters came on them e'er they ware were,  
So did thy hand, o Lord! find them out here;  
And I fear, Lord, that thou hast spared us,  
Who are for guilt as meritorious.   

PAIN.  

WHen Pain oppresses me, and my heart heaves,  
OH Lord, thrash out some Corn out of these sheaves.  
When I shriek out, o God  
Scourged with thy sharper Rod,  
Let t'be for Sin,  
I sigh within!   

When my Pain makes me sigh, OH good Lord, o!  
O than let Grace in my heart further go,  
And work some greater good,  
To think upon thy blood,  
Which for me bled,  
For me was shed.   

When thou afflictest me with thine own hand,  
Who millions to serve thee canst command,  
My Sins themselves present,  
O than incontinent,  
Than let my spirit  
Apply thy merit.   

When I am weakened, and am overcome;  
Yet let me not in praises e'er be dumb,  
For my sweet Saviour  
Endured a worse shower;  
For me he cried,  
For me he died.  
Therefore in Pain let me not think amiss;  
For all my Pains are not like one of his.    

Content.  

I Smile to hear my friends ask why I keep  
A TAVERN, and thereby to break my sleep.  
Epaminondas was a General,  
After a private Captain; yet no fall  
Did he accounted it: And do I not well,  
To keep an Inn, think it an Hermit's Cell?  
S. Paul's resolve I can't but well resent,  
 learned in each estate to be content;  
And my Ambition is to keep a TAVERN,  
To know how well I such a place can govern.  
In patience to possess my soul, I crave;  
And what I ask in saith, Lord, I shall have.  
I am a Merchant still; yet do not start  
From selling French, and Spanish Wine by th'Quart.   

Of Zeno I have read in purples dealing,  
Impoverished upon the salt-seas failing;  
Yet saying this, although his ' state half cracked,  
I sailed best when as I was shipwrecked.   

Brave was his resolution, who did lie  
His two last years torn by the Strangury.  
Had lived his middle age most prosperously,  
Who in the midst of torments thus could say;  
O my Lord God, how gracious hast thou been!  
Forty eight years of health, but two of pain:  
Blessed be thy name for th'mercy in forbearing,  
And for thy Justice, Lord, in me afflicting.   

I can't but scorn and pity great Augustus,  
Who so betrayed human frailty thus;  
After th'defeat of some choice Troops, he falls,  
And frantic-like knocks his head 'gainst the walls,  
uttering unmanlike Exclamations,  
Varus restore me my lost Legions!  
When we are miserable, o our tempers!  
Than we do add unto it by distempers.   

I see the Indian now Husbanding  
One Tree, and t'all his household uses bring,  
Timber, Thatch, Meat, Oil, Honey, Medicine,  
Sauce, Drink, Utensils, Ships, Cables, Sails, Wine;  
And tell me, pray you, what is it that frets  
The pleasant spirit of Anachorets?  
Says the Apostle, having food and raiment,  
O let us learn to be therewith content!   

Not murmuring for guilty subornations;  
For here's no cause in these our meaner stations.  
Not checks for secret, vile contrivances  
Of public, high-handed great villainies.  
Great men in Great bottoms sail in the deep,  
Poor men in Barks still near the shore do creep;  
And I have seen the small one gain the Creek,  
When th'great one, (God thou know'st) was often to seek!  
I am not troubled here with Titius' vulture:  
Though my Estate is small, my state is sure.  
Here (Aethiopian-like) with my door open  
I sleep, while people do both go and come.  
What Lucius wrote, I do affirm not lesle,  
That one hours' mischief drowns the great'st excess.   

My Case was worse, when I was in restraint;  
And yet that hath been th'case of many a Saint.  
My Case was worse, when vulture-Povetry  
Did gnaw my mind, and I no meat could come by.  
I wi'nt repined, because my misery  
Is laid upon me, Lord, so fav'rably;  
And I will be content upon this ground,  
I shall not want, if'ts better to abound:  
Nay, I do beg, OH Lord, (with holy fear)  
Not to be so cursed, to be happy here.  
With David, Lord, I do desire to sing,  
The Lord my Shepherd is, I lack no thing.  
En hour content sé dit.    

The Opinion, sent to Sir R.S.  

MY firm Opinion, dear Sir, is this,  
And God inform me, (if I be amiss!)  
Or shall I boldly speak with leave, and fear not  
What fond Religion my Tenants are not.  
Kind Familists, or wider Libertines,  
Erastians', Anti-trinitarians,  
Cross Anabaptists, bold Arminians,  
Conceited, fond Manifestarians;  
Fierce Millenaries, Antinomians,  
Socinians, condemned Arians,  
Cursed, abhorred Antiscripturists,  
Giddy Brownists, conceited Perfectists,  
Mortalians, Enthusiasts so strange,  
And Seekers through forbidden things that range,  
And such like, I detest, don't understand,  
Only believing what my God command;  
Fear God, and love my Neighbour, Christian love,  
Is the true badge of our Master above:  
Yet from them we may learn; for from a Turk,  
A thing I read of makes my bowels work;  
An Englishman in his unwiser rage  
Did strike a Turk his guide; yet on the stage  
Ne'er came his passion: for's villainy  
Shall I neglect my duty? no saith he;  
Nor I neglect to own my proved Religion,  
Although I do incur the Sects derision;  
On truth of Scriptures are my tenants grounded,  
Which would make Atheists Christians, if well sounded.   

1.  
Had it not been the Word of God alone,  
The falsehood had detected been, and shown.   

2.  
And for the Penmen of the Scripture, see!  
They set not forth their own nobility,  
Glory, or Virtue, but with one consent,  
Declared the will of him that had them sent:  
Yea, faults disgraceful to themselves, and those  
Their issues they did true-free-ly disclose;  
A proof that natural Reason did not boast;  
But merely guided by the holy Ghost.   

3.  
Thirdly, the stile is writ plain, and simply;  
Yet full of purer grace, and majesty;  
For it doth kerb the proud, exalt the meek,  
And offer Christ to those that do him seek.   

4.  
The Scripture is an history so old,  
Four thousand years before Christ's birth was told,  
Old Authors do accord with Scripture so,  
As that part which in History doth go,  
And miracles confirm it, The Sun stands,  
The dead are raised, and nothing it withstands.   

5.  
The record of the spirit which who resents,  
Is argument against all arguments,  
And because likely you may it resent,  
 placed 
* Joh. 7.17 one way, and Matt. 7.7, 8. Luk. 11.13 and James 1.7.  quotations that are pertinent;  
But if ye expect me t' answer all objections,  
I don't intent to make such larger Sections;  
Yet since the Scripture is God's written Word,  
I choose that true Religion it afford.   

I would improve the duty in the Law,  
And Gospel-promise both embrace, and awe,  
The one a spur for holiness to fit;  
The other to unbelief a curb, or bit.  
Out of the sense of my necessity,  
In highest manner grace to magnify;  
Yet to avoid wild Antinomianism,  
And on the other side t' avoid the Schism  
Of Pharisaical Po'pry; neverth'less  
Mortification, and holiness,  
To doth both punctually, and exact,  
And indeed here's the right sense, and the act.   

Working salvation with fear and trembling,  
As if there were no grace to justify,  
And yet so firmly resting and believing,  
As if no good thing had been done us by.  
Sim. As these our bodies live by earthly food,  
So true Religion doth our souls most good.  
As Earth is softened by Iron used with art,  
So doth Religion temper th' hardest heart:  
Yet as sore eyes can't gaze against the Sun,  
So wicked minds brook not Religion.  
As Medicines makes sick bodies whole and sound,  
So doth Religion wash out Errors wound.  
Like as a torch us in the dark directs,  
So doth Religion guide from wandering Sects.  
As want of food the body starve, and scant,  
So pines the the Soul through pure Religions want.  
Examp. Brennus for wronging of Religion  
Was smitten with a thunder bolt from Heaven.  
The chiefest Oath th' Athenians had was this,  
Pugnabo pro sacris, & cum aliis, & solus,  
Pherecydes Religion nicknamed;  
For which he was by worms alive consumed.   

Methinks I hear you ask what Regiment  
I vote within the Church, sigh detriment  
Came by the Bishop's lordings. Than I say,  
Bishops that do both watch their flock, and pray;  
It was the Judgement of that learned King,  
Which I here quote, sigh he did Scripture bring  
To prove his Tenet. Only this indent,  
Civil affairs out of his element,  
As it was said of Andrews, and a Church  
Kept in his house. I hope none lie at lurch,  
Here need's not Oedipus. Than for the rule of state  
If God shall please! that way that was of late,  
But howsoe'er, (as the Shepherd said o'th' Wether,)  
I this my strange, yet good opinion gather,  
That there shall be such times, as I please, see!  
Such as please God shall pleasing be to me.  
This is m'opinion (dear Sir) and why  
Should I be guilty of a needles lie?  
For Herbert saith, nothing doth need a lie,  
A fault that vows it most, grows worse thereby;  
Than (Sir) sigh yond do know my'pinion weak,  
If I re-visit you, vouchsafe to speak.  
But pray do not so grossly me mistake,  
As to think all was Gospel that I spoke,  
For as Basil graviled Eunomius  
The Heretic (pretending boldly thus,  
That he knew God's divinity, apart)  
With one, and twenty questious of an Art;  
So you may me in twenty questions more,  
And you may well judge me foolish therefore,  
But I take liberty of Conscience  
Here to declare of truth the naked sense,  
And am grown proud, sigh you do not refuse  
To honour with acceptance the dull muse, of sir your servant   
N. M.   

Lords DAY.  

THis holy day,  
(Which Heaven display,)  
I do adore,   

Five thousand years,  
(Free from all fears)  
Sabbath's name bore.   

Now sixteen hundred,  
('Tis to be wondered)  
Called Lordsday.   

By't to serve thee,  
'Twas made we see,  
Not for to play.   

Each seaventh thought,  
Should thee be brought,  
For they're thy due;   

But thy seventh day,  
Half's cast away;  
O 'tis too true!   

Yet I'll thee seek,  
(Who art so meek)  
Of th' week each day;   

For thy mercies,  
Justice likewise,  
I'll praise or pray.    

THE SINNER. The Argument.  
While joab doth besiege warlike Rabbah,  
David does adultery with Bathsheba,  
Send's for Vriah for to cover it,  
But he'd not home, nor drunk, nor sober yet;  
He carrie'th joab th' letter of his death,  
joab the news to David than sendeth,  
And David Bathsheba dow marrieth.  

SECT.  
IT came to pass after the year expired  
The time that Kings go forth to battle ' tired  
In Warre-presaging steel; David commands  
His General Joab with his warlike hands  
Extracted out all Israel, and they stroyed,  
The Ammonitish children, Rabbah besieged;  
But David at jerusalem tarried,  
And it came to pass in a cool evening tide,  
That David risen from of his bed, and walked  
Upon the roof of the King's house, thus talked  
His eyes unto his lust, that bathing woman  
It very beautiful to look upon;  
And he sent, and inquired of the woman;  
Is't not Bathsheba, daughter of Elan  
Says one, wife of Uriah the Hittite?  
And David sent, and took her for a night,  
And she came in to him, and he lay with her;  
(For her uncleanness was taken from of her;)  
And she returned to her house, conceived,  
And sent, and told, I am with child by David,  
And David sent to Joab, sand Uriah.  
And Joab sent to David wronged Uriah,  
David demands of him how Joab did,  
How th' people, and how the War prospered?  
And bid him go to is house, and wash his feet,  
And after him he sent a mess of meat;  
But Uriah slept at th' King's house door,  
Not going to his own; but chose the floor,  
And when they David told of it, he said,  
Cam'st thou not from th' journey? why hast not laid  
At thine own house? And Uriah replied  
The Ark, Israel, Judah in tents abide,  
And my Lord Joab, and his servants all,  
(And am I better than my General?)  
In open field encamped are, shall I  
Than to my house to eat, drink, and to lie  
By my Wife's side? as thou livest, OH King,  
And as thy soul, I will not do this thing.  
And David said, tarry here this day, and th' morrow.  
And thou shalt go; so he stayed there with sorrow,  
And when David had called him, he drank,  
And eaten before him, and he made him drunk;  
And at Even, according to his use,  
He lay with ' servants, went not to his house.  
And it came to pass i'th' morning, that David  
A letter by Uriah poor had writ,  
Unto Joab, saying i'th' main battle  
Appoint Uriah, and retreat until  
He smitten is, and die; and Joab did  
Accordingly (in which he much mis-did.)  
And by a messenger he certified  
How good Uriah valiantly died,  
And when his wife had heard that he was dead,  
For him, (as she had cause) she than mourned,  
And when that Tempus luctus was o'erpast,  
David sent, and fet her to is house in haste,  
And she his scarcely lawful wife become,  
And bore by him, and unto him a son;  
But this thing of David's hot lustful love  
Displeased God, that sits, and sees above.   

MEDITATION.  

NOthing can show David like as himself;  
His Poesy 's a ship, ours but a shelf.  
Whose sin forgiven is, is most blessed,  
And blessed he, whose sin is covered.  
Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord  
Imputeth not iniquity; OH God  
And in whose spirit there is no guile. When I  
Kept silence my bones waxed old, and dry,  
Through my roaring all the day long, alas!  
For day, night, thy hand on me heavy was:  
My moisture unto Summer's drought is turned:  
My sin unto thee I acknowledged,  
And mine iniquity I have not hid:  
I said, t' confess my sins I will begin,  
And thou forgavest the guilt of my sin.  
Thus David could in former time confess,  
And beg for pardon for his wickedness;  
But he that was foretime God's Champion brave,  
Left but unto himself is now a slave  
Unto his lust, his lust, his lust, his lust,  
For which most bitter waters taste he must.  
Here may we learn occasion to fly  
That soul-confounding, foul iniquity.  
Here may we see the tricks we have to sin,  
And how ourselves we do beleaguer in,  
To hug our Cockatricial lusts, which will  
With their infectious breaths our poor souls kill.  
I am with child to meditate of all  
The accidents in this our David's fall;  
Samson by beauty was surprised, and  
Who have obeyed not Beauty's command?  
Victorious Hercules, mighty, and sweet,  
Laid down his courage at fair Beauty's feet;  
The Lybian lions (they say) loose their might,  
If on a Beauty once they set their sight.  
Zeno the prince of Stoics did agreed  
That Beauty's like could very hardly be:  
But grant that Nature Beauty thus gave place;  
How camed that Beauty conquered David's Grace?  
If Flesh submitted unto Beauty's lure,  
Oh! how could Spirit servitude endure!  
Oh! than, my soul, learn thou here to repent,  
And God-displeasing sins be sure relent  
At thy first sinning: and, O God above,  
Guide my soul always by that holy Dove;  
And let thy deputy within my soul,  
Great Conscience, my smallest sins control:  
And let me weep, and meditate, and weep,  
And pray thee that from such sins thou me keep.   

Had David been in Joab's place, no doubt  
His lazy lust had than received a rout:  
Had Grace in Joab General been, I say,  
He'd not so prized that darling of one day,  
That bubble Honour, and had not made guilty  
His King with murderous adultery.  
Good David fallen into such a sin!  
Thus do we see that dangerous Beauty's gin.  
Eve's whining voice lost Adam's paradise,  
And Bathsheba's fair looks caused David's vice.  
Justly lamented David, now I see  
The power of soothing Prosperity:  
We heard not of thy causing Drunkenness,  
When God thee with Adversity did bless.  
Nothing but sing and weep, and weep and sing,  
God's Word unto our listening ears did bring.  
Obedient Son, good Shepherd, loving Father,  
Careful Servant, stout Captain; (yet not smother  
God's praises to augment thine own:) Music  
Came from thy skilful hand to the brainsick;  
In all thine Offices renouncing man  
Moore than the falsly-styled Capuchian.   

By this I know the Scripture to be right,  
Sigh David here confessed in the world's sight,  
A sin to him disgraceful: he did writ,  
But th'holy Ghost unto him did indite.   

We must make haste that David may repent;  
In which sure none will think the time misspent.     

The REPENTANT. The Argument.  
Nathan's acquaint parable of the Ewe-lamb  
makes David judge himself to be in blame.  
David by Nathan's words being reproved,  
confesseth his sin, and is pardoned.  
David mourns and prays for the child in breath;  
Solomon's born, and named Jedidiah.  
David taketh Rabbah, (Uriah's death)  
and the people thereof he tortureth.  

SECT.  
ANd the Lord sent Nathan unto David laid 
2 Sam. 12.   
Sleeping in sin, and unto him he said;  
There were two men in one City: pure need  
Oppressed the one, the other did exceed  
In flocks and herds; but the poor man had naught  
Save only one little ewe-lamb, which he had bought  
And nourished, and it grew up together  
With him and with his children; and the weather  
Did scarce afflict it; of his meat it fed,  
And drank of his own cup; in's bosome-bed  
It lay, and was unto him as a daughter:  
And the rich man put it unto the slaughter,  
Having a traveller coming to's board,  
And of his coin to take could not afford,  
Of his own flock or herd to dress; yet can  
Take th' poor man's lamb for that way-faring man,  
And dressed it. And David's anger was  
Greatly kindled against the man: alas!  
He thought not of himself; for than surely  
He'd not have said, The man shall surely die  
That did this thing, and had no pity. Than  
Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.  
Thus saith the God of Israel, I, I  
Anointed thee King with a hand most high;  
And out of Saul's hand did deliver thee;  
Thy master's house eke I did give to thee:  
Thy master's wives into thy bosom fell;  
I gave thee Judah, and mine Israel.  
And if these were too little in thine eye,  
I would have given thee greater dignity, etc.  
Wherhfore hast thou despised God's great command  
To do evil in his sight with a hand  
So high? thou hast killed Uriah poor  
With sword, and made the Hittite's Wife a whore,  
And taken his Wife to be thy Wife,  
And by Ammon hast taken away his life.  
Now therefore the sword shall never departed  
Thy house, since thou, despised me in heart,  
And ta'en Uriahs' Wife to be thy Wife,  
Thus saith the Lord, behold, I will make strife,  
And evil against thee out of thine house,  
And I will take thy wife before thine eyes,  
And give thy neighbour them, and he shall lie  
In the sight of the Sun thy choice Wives by:  
For thou didst secretly; but I will do  
This thing 'fore Israel, and the Sun's sight too:  
And David said unto Nathan, I have  
Sinned, I have sinned, sinned I have.  
And Nathan said to David certainly,  
Thy sin is put away, thou shalt not die,  
Howbeit because thou hast by this deed given  
Occasion that the great God of heaven  
Men speak of may blasphemously,  
The child born unto thee shall surely die.  
And Nathan went unto his house and th' Lord  
Struck David's child by Uriahs' wife with's rod,  
And it was very sick, David therefore  
Besought God for the child, and did implore  
The Almighty by fasting, and he went in,  
And lay all night upon the earth for is sin.  
And th' Elders of his house arose and would  
Himulco raised have from of the earth's cold mould;  
But he would not, neither did he eat bread:  
And on the seventh day the child was dead,  
And David's servants feared to tell him so.  
For they said, when the child was alive, lo,  
We spoke unto him, and he would not hear;  
How will he vex, if this arrive his ear?  
But when David saw that the servants whispered,  
David perceived that the child was dead.  
David said to is servants, Is the child dead?  
And they said tremblingly, the child is dead:  
Than David risen from of the earth and washed,  
Anointed himself, and his apparel changed,  
And came to the Lords house and worshipped.  
Than he came to his own, and he required  
Them to set bread before him, and he eat,  
Than said his servants unto him hereat,  
We wonder thou didst fast and weep for th' child  
Alive, but dead thy sorrow is exiled;  
And he said, while the child was yet alive  
I wept and fasted, God may lend it life,  
And be gracious to me, said I; now 'tis past,  
He being dead, wherefore should I refast?  
Can I bring him here back again? 'twill be  
That I shall go to him, he not return to me:  
And David comforted his Bathsheba,  
And he went in, and with her he did lay;  
She bore a son and called is name Solomon,  
And the Lord loved him, and Nathan's word  
Named Jedidiah, because of the Lord  
And Joab fought against Rabbah, took the City.  
And he sent David word, (a pleasant ditty)  
Now therefore come with ' rest of Israel,  
Encamp and take the City, lest they tell,  
'Tis Joabs' City; so the King came down,  
And fought and took the City, and the Crown  
Of their King's head, great was the City's spoil;  
He put them under saws and harrows vile,  
And all their Cities to the vexation;  
Than he returned, and I to meditation.   

MEDITATION.  

HEre may we see good Nathan's holy fraud,  
Yet he knew well, David must not be clawed,  
At such a time, for he saith, thou 'rt the man  
OH let truths Champions charge in the van,  
All sinners thus, and let the sinners fall  
From sin and rise in faith in general,  
Not blaming holy Nathans who do strive  
To marry us to Christ, from the world un-wive:  
A stranger came to David, 'twas a stranger  
Indeed to him, but in the world a Ranger.  
For this his sin, that would sorrow the stones,  
Me thinks I hear good David's sighs and groans.  
Saying, ye gate unto iniquity,  
My un-restrained lust and liberty;  
By this my foul abhorred adultery,  
To nature I have done an injury,  
But to the God of Nature more. OH sin!  
By thee my sorrow doth but now begin.  
Sin! sin! sin! sin! a worse than thee can't be;  
For here had been no evil but for thee.  
O grief beyond tongue-eloquence! whose smart  
Is only truly known within my heart.  
My soul, my soul receiveth violence  
By this my beastly base concupiscence.  
Nay, how know I, but by continuance,  
My lust may grow to damned impudence?  
O in my soul I have a gnawing sense!  
Greatness doth make it great incontinence.  
How will the Wicked now rejoice and say  
With scorn, See how the Saint is fallen away!  
What wrong shall I do to thy Church, OH Lord,  
Unto this holy, holy, holy Word!  
My owl-sight eyes were dazzled with her light,  
Yet saw too clearly in that darker night.  
O that I had not up my roof so go!  
Or that I there, there, there had been alone!  
That that too nimble tongue had not me told  
What th'woman was; for that made lust so bold.  
What did I wish t'have been alone? Unwise;  
That caused me to be tyrant lust's prize:  
For had my God been with me, I had not  
Been such a wretched, foolish, sinful sot.   

If for adultery my soul thus find  
To grieve, What shall she do for that behind,  
Abhorred murder? Now my soul falls down,  
And's truly dead (pro tempore) in a swoon.  
O lend thy mercy, Lord, O Lord support  
My failing heart, that I may thus report  
To all succeeding ages. O my God  
Let th' holy Spirit have again abode  
Within my heart; and pardon all my sins,  
And eke prevent Satan's enchanting gins.  
Dread Majesty! O let thy mercy shine  
Upon my darkened soul: let light divine  
Descend into it, that by that clear light,  
I may of thy paths have a certain sight.  
But teach me to repent, and that's as good  
As if th'hadst sealed my pardon with thy blood.  
I'll let him speak himself. A hand or eye  
" By Hilyard drawn, is worth an History  
" By a worse Painter made, saith learned Donne:  
Therefore hear David's verse; for I have done.     

Verse 1. PSALM 51.  
1. HAve mercy upon me, OH gracious God,  
According to thy loving kindness Lord,  
According to thy mercy's multitude,  
Blot out my heinous sins which did intrude.  
2 Wash me throughly from mine iniquity,  
and cleanse me from my great impiety.  
3 For I acknowledge my sins, and they be  
before my weeping eyes continually.  
4 'Gainst thee, thee only have I sinned, and  
done this in thy sight with so high a hand,  
That thou mightst be justified when thou speakest,  
and be always most clear when thou judgest.  
5 Lo I was shapen in iniquity,  
and in vile sin did my mother conceive me!  
6 Lo thou desir'st truth in the inward part,  
and thou shalt teach me wisdom in my heart.  
7 Purge me with hyssop, I shall be clean so,  
wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.  
8 Make me to hear sweet joy and gladness voice,  
that the bones which thou hast broke may rejoice.  
9 From my sin Lord hid thine allseeing eyes,  
and blot out all my great iniquities.  
10 Created in me a clean heart, OH my God,  
and constant spirit give in me abode!  
11 OH cast me not from out thy blessed presence,  
take not from me thy holy Spirits sense!  
12 Restore to me the joy of thy salvation,  
and uphold me with thy free Spirits motion.  
13 Than will I teach transgressors' great thy ways,  
and sinners shall convert by me thy says.  
14 OH free me from bloodguiltiness, OH Lord!  
thou God of my salvation it afford.  
15 My tongue shall sing thy Righteousness, OH God,  
Lord open thou my Lips, and them upraise,  
than shall my mouth show forth thy louder praise.  
16 For thou desir'st no sacrifice, I'd bring  
it else; thou delight'st not in burnt-offering.  
17 Thy sacrifices are a broken spirit,  
a broken contrite heart is thy best merit.  
18 Do good in thy good pleasure unto Zion,  
build thou the walls of thy Jerusalem.  
19 Than shalt thou pleased be with sacrifice  
of our lame, hasting, but half Righteousness;  
with burnt-offering, and whole burnt-offering,  
than shall they bullocks to thine altar bring.   

MEDITATION.  
HEre is a Lesson of concernment here,  
A David's Lesson, which may seem a mere  
Folly to foolish folk. What mourn so much,  
For a than living child, and yet to grudge,  
After 'twas dead? OH here's a work of Grace  
Which now repenting David doth embrace!  
He'd prayed for its life in either World;  
And since God's just deserved anger hurled  
The Babe from mourning David, David is  
Informed by faith that it its makers is,  
And he therein afflicted for his sin,  
Which he desires to be contented in.  
He throws not Cities down as Alexander,  
At his friend's death, nor let their passion wander.  
He's not so frantic in his vain laments,  
When his child travelling removes his tents,  
As to demolish the Palace where it died,  
As one of our Kings did (if not belied)  
Heathens can learn men better Lessons; Fie,  
Will men th' Eternal great Decree deny?  
Hector to's wife Andromache said why  
Do you grieve my death? all men are born to die.  
Gorgias asked in's sickness, how he fareth,  
Says, sleep now yields me to his brother death.  
But to our Theme. David now confesseth.  
His dearest Bathsheba, whose sweet child's death  
Hath overwhelmed her heart with sorrow; yet  
She now considers it was Nature's debt,  
And 'tis mere courtesy if we are spared  
To seventy years, for death is not debarred  
From shooting us any time if God  
His nimble feet with a command hath shod.  
So David went in and did lie with her,  
And she did bear a son, which son did bear  
An Emblem of God's love even in his Name.  
By God by Nathan given; for Solomon  
Is Jedidiah called, 'cause of the Lord  
And Joab had fought Rabbah with the sword,  
And he sent for David, saying, come thou  
With the rest of the people, or I vow,  
The City will by my name called be,  
Which I confess our King, belongs to thee.  
Here was right Captain General, for lo,  
He knew how to entitle David to  
The honour of the action; faithful man,  
In this matter (I pray) who blame thee can?  
So David marched to the town and took  
What ever the conquered people look  
Upon as once was theirs; their Kings rich Crown  
From of their King's head, and set on his own.  
Thus do I see that that old phrase doth hit,  
Fortior qui se, quàm qui fortissima vincit.   

Adieu à la Monde. To the worshipful JOHN MAY Esquire signior, Alderman of Lyn.  

WIt, Valour, Richeses, Honour, Beauty, Birth,  
Are Baits for Mortals, laid by Stepdame Earth.   

1.  
Cato for Government the pride of Rome,  
From whom so many wholesome Laws did come,  
Who did foretell proud Caesar's tyranny,  
Egyptian Ptolemy did tell his folly,  
Who if he'd followed his Counsel wise,  
He had not failed in his Enterprise;  
He that did lead the Romans by the ears,  
And could exhilarate amidst all fear  
To others; Lo! he stabs himself, alas!  
Virtue, thou stoodst in need of Christian Grace.   

2.  
Unconqueed Caesar that third thousand Town  
Had taken by assault, and had beaten down  
Three hundred Nations: a Million  
Of Prisoners taken; nay, he who had won  
Infinite Battles; 'midst the Senate grave,  
From violent death, alas! could not him save.   

3.  
Lucullus, who by Victories obtained  
'Gainst potent Kings, a mass of Gold had gained,  
And made the richest Triumphs that Rome saw,  
E'er while she gave the conquered World her Law.  
He who scarce knew his Treasure, lost his wits,  
Therefore his grave an hasty poison fits.   

4  
Great Alexander that the World did awe,  
And with his Sword did writ the Persians' Law,  
He that did captive Kings, and face their Van,  
That princely issued Macedonian,  
At last ('twas thought) by poison lost his breath;  
For he that conquers Kings, can't conquer Death.   

5.  
Fair Alcibiades whose beauteous face,  
Did give unto his actions winning grace,  
Which made King Agis Wife be won unto  
That which was both a shame to grant and do.  
He that was called the pleasant sweet prospect,  
Whose Beauty like the orient Pearl project,  
Can not prevail with Murderers venomed darts,  
Nor yet, alas! with their more cruel hearts.   

6.  
Pyrrhus' descended from Achilles' brave,  
Whose loud-mouthed fame shall never find a grave,  
One of the noblest Families in Greece,  
Successively found valours masterpiece,  
Was slain from of a house by a thrown Tile,  
For such a peerless Prince a death too vile!    

MEDITATION.  

1.  
Omnipotent Lord! who know'st my secret thought,  
And before whom secrets revealed are brought:  
Since thou art omnipotent, I e'er shall strain,  
To show all mundane things but merely vain.  
I'll fear to meddle with that Engine wit,  
Because it doth the Engineer of it hit:  
However I'll not trust to it, for vain  
Are all things that proceed from man's mere brain.  
Thy wiser Solomon when he was jolly,  
He placed a heaven in that, but found it folly.   

2.  
I'll fear all dalilah's, prevent a gust;  
Desire to anchor sure, in spite of lust:  
I'll not presume upon my valour, O!  
How short a way could I in my strength go?  
Thy Samson too much trusting to his strength,  
Was overcome, and vilely used at length.   

3:  
What shall I strive to catch a bird i'th' air?  
For Richeses make them wings and fly affair,  
And ●arr. Give me not over much my God  
Wise Agurs Prayer is mine, enough for food  
And Raiment; if thou thinkest fit to give more,  
Some I'll return unto thee by the poor.  
Thou mad'st thy Job (the richest of the East)  
Even (for a time) to Vermin vile a Feast.   

4.  
I'll seek not honour, for alas! the man  
That hath it acts but the Comedian.  
He holds it but until the Play is done,  
Perhaps before the Plaudite 'tis go.  
Thy own dear David, now an honoured King.  
A Shimei now on him Reproaches fling.   

5.  
I'll grieve not for a withered Rose, I'll scorn  
All such things that do die, as soon as born.  
Should I ere overlove a face that turns  
To ashey pale in sickness when it burns?  
An Absalon was hanged upon a Tree,  
What Beauty great did men than in him see!   

6.  
I scarcely call my Father's merits mine,  
Good Parents do convince bad Child's line  
Of their degenerate, depraved acts.  
Except I'm good, what help my Father's facts?  
A Rehoboam is the more made guilty,  
By his good Fathers, of iniquity.   

Wit's weak, Valour doth fail, Richeses do fly,  
Honour halts, Beauty fades, and Birth doth lie:  
Therefore (OH Lord) I only crave but thee,  
Let others crave those earthly things for me.    

Solomon's Caveat of the Harlot.  

I Take it wisdom here for to repeat  
Those things of her the Wiseman doth relate.  
The lips of a strange woman drop as honey, 
Prou. 5.3.   
Her mouth smother than oil (to get your money)  
Her end as bitter is as sour Wormwood,  
Sharper it is than a two-edged Sword.  
Her feet go down to Death, her steps to Hell;  
Lest thou shouldst ponder her path of life well,  
Her ways are movable, not to be known,  
(And every one that courteth here's her own.)   

My Son keep thyself from the evil Woman, 
Prou. 6.25.   
The flattering tongue of the perverser Woman.  
After her Beauty lust not in thine heart,  
Nor let her take thee with her eyelids art;  
For by a Whore a man is brought to naught,  
And the adulteress man's life hath sought.  
Can fire be in th' bosom, and clothes not torn?  
One to tread on hot Coals, his feet not burn?  
So he that to his neighbour's wife ere went,  
And touched her, shall not be innocent.  
The window of my house I looked thorough, 
Prou. 7.7.   
And did behold a young man that was shallow,  
Passing the streets thorough unto her corner,  
He went he way unto the house of th' scorner.  
In the evening in the half-dark twilight,  
In the black, dark, dismal, and dangerous night.  
And behold! there did meet him a Woman,  
With the attire of a right Harlot on,  
Subtle of heart (she is both loud and stubborn,  
Her feet abide not in her house, she's go  
Without, now in the streets (is a suborner)  
And she lieth in wait at every corner)  
So she caught him, and kissed him (so slim!)  
And with an impudent face said to him,  
I have Peace-offerings with me, but now  
Even this day Sweetest have I paid my vow,  
Therefore came I to seek so diligently  
Thy sweeter face, and lo! Now I have found thee,  
 decked my Bed with Tapestry Cover,  
With carved Work, fine Linen, and such things,  
I have perfumed my Bed (OH don't be go!)  
With precious Myrrh, Aloes, and Cinnamon:  
Come let us take our fill of Love (my Dear)  
Until the morning let us solace here,  
For the Good man is not at home you see,  
(I'm sure he'll stay) he's go a long journey.  
OH of such Whores the deeper subtlety!  
And of their slaves the great simplicity!  
Lord, let thy servant rather beg at th' door,  
Than ere ensnared by a damned Whore!   
The end of the Divine Poems.   

Sickness.  

I Feel my strength o'th' sudden me to fail,  
I feel insulting sickness me assail;  
Than I think on my sins, my flesh so frail.  
There is a God   

I do observe my meat, my drink, my air,  
My exercises, study; yet my care  
Prevents not; I may be choked with an hair.  
There is a God   

One hand doth ask the other how it fares,  
(By the Pulse) mine eye asks my urine how it shares,  
With this distemper, while I'm worn with cares;  
Yet thou 'rt my God   

My fear of Sickness doth as much afflict,  
As of forepassed sickness the relict;  
Thus by thy Sergeant is thy servant kicked.  
Strengthen, o God   

Throw cold water on fire, o this is jolly,  
This is thy servants wont peevish folly,  
Wrap a hot fever in cold melancholy.  
Make wise, o God   

I cannot hold, o Lord, glory I must,  
Of th'holy Ghosts temple I am some dust,  
No marble is so precious, I must  
Remember God   

The remedy's as bad as the disease,  
Purging a weak man, o how can this please!  
Or how can this, o Lord, thy servant ease!  
Yet there's a God   

I take down drugs, than wormwood bitter fare,  
As loathsome as the loathsomest that are,  
Listen to all receipts both near and fare:  
Which bless o God   

Yet thou art just in all thy acts alone,  
Who so often lead me for my sins to groan;  
As for my pain in sickness I have shown,  
Pardon o God   

My Parents would not let servants correct me,  
And let not Satan, o God, e'er afflict me,  
Not by Satan would I afflicted be:  
Grant this, o God   

Yet Lord, how much have I been a mistaker,  
And almost had forgotten God my maker!  
O therefore am I of this Pain partaker:  
Forget o God   

The Bell that toll for some departing soul,  
Makes me think I may taste of Death's brimmed boul;  
And than, o Lord, how can I it control?  
Make fit, o God   

I study not how my soul first came in,  
But how 'twas guilty of most heinous sin,  
To study of its end I do begin:  
O help, o God   

Wih St Augustin this shall be my station,  
I do desire to know my transmigration,  
And that I certain be of thy salvation:  
Which grant, o God   

The soul o'th' man that died I prayed for,  
And for to judge him damned I do abhor;  
But charitably think him saved; for  
thou'rt good, o God   

The body whence the soul so loathe did part,  
T'exchange for heaven, is so that now all Art  
Acknowledge must they set her out in part:  
Poor flesh, o God   

Who would not be affected much to see,  
A morning River sweet that ran clearly,  
A kennel grow, and to run muddily?  
Such is man, God   

Than hopes of cure my heavy heart do raise,  
O open than my lips to show thy praise,  
For Lord, my duller flesh skils not thy ways:  
Almighty God   

O how I than did think to lead a life,  
Lord, like a member of thy dearer wife  
Thy Church, which ever grant be voided of strife:  
Thou peaceful God   

These holy thoughts confirm thou in mine heart,  
That I may praise thy name with utmost art,  
And that I may from thy Laws never start:  
Grant this, o God   

Lord keep me from a sad relapse, I crave;  
Than shalt thy servant strength and pleasure have:  
But, o Lord, let me not thy strength to wave:  
O Lord my God   

For 'twill be sad to run the course again,  
To purge, to sweated, and to do all in vain;  
Do thou thy blessings therefore on me rain:  
My gracious God   

Let not thy servant poor e'er be relapsed,  
Into those sins which are truly repealed,  
And thou, o Lord, hast fully pardoned:  
Thou art my God    

The PROTECTION.  
To th'admiral, Vice- or Reer-Admirall;  
Renowned Captains unto each and all.  
WE greet you well: and will that this our Son  
By you nor yours not violence be done  
His Merchandise, or aught pertains unto him:  
For if you do, you do not only undo him,  
But do affronted our high authority,  
And shall do by us most unworthily.  
You sons of Neptune, hereby we do charge  
You, if you take him, that you him discharge  
And his goods free; or if you be so ill,  
As to deny't, than answered at your peril;  
For be it known unto you from this Place,  
He's ordered for to trade in Wit and Grace.  
We three, and thrice-three straight do command  
The proudest of you not to lay your hand  
Upon this our dear Son, from Rupert brave,  
Unto the meanest thrommet, or base slave;  
For by great Jove our Father, and our Mother  
Fair Venus; your neglect we will not smother.  
Great Pallas, and Minerva we'll inform,  
If he abuse this our choice Microcosm;  
Than we'll inform our mother Mnemosyne;  
And ye shall never taste Nectarean wine:  
But shall be punished by the punishment  
Great Jove for such offenders did Invent.  
Given at Olympus' high, Signed and sealed by And at Parnassus' Hill Signed by our sacred Quill.  

The Graces  
Agiaia  
Thalia  
Euphrosyne   

The Muses  
Clio  
Melpomene  
Thalia  
Euterpo  
Terpsichore  
Erato  
Calliope  
Urania  
Polymnia    

CONCLUSION.  

I Know I shall be counted mad and rude  
By the wild, giddyheaded multitude,  
To writ in such strange days, for now men sink  
Their judgements, having drowned them first with drink.  
Envy and Ignorance, I'm confident  
Will scarcely well this work of mine resent.  
Among the Wits 'tis Epidemical,  
On their Rivals Momus-like for to fall.  
Like to the ignorant no foe to wit,  
And he's condemned that don't each humour fit.  
One would have obscene Poems, th'other plain,  
A third one writing in a lofty strain;  
One tedious things affects; another short;  
Another says Verse only should make sport.  
Some, that he is no Poet, holds no Quill,  
Except he equal Homer, or great Virgil;  
Some, none should writ, except like Scaliger,  
Who could in thirty Languages confer:  
Or such, as Aristarchus, that (not lesle)  
Two hundred Books could fit unto the Press.  
Or he whose memory is full as terse  
As Seneca's, who could at first rehearse  
Hundred of words after the hearing; than  
I think no mortal men should use a Pen.   

But I am like Heraclitus; no Tutor  
In Cham, or Ox, was e'er my Co-adjutor,  
Wherhfore the truer Poet some men say;  
But they their ignorances' do betray.  
Other affairs command this Book so small,  
And my late sickness crushed the growth withal,  
And made the Copy the worse writ; I fear  
By that the Printer will abuse the Reader,  
And much more me, somewhat my noble Friends,  
Who me their acquaint Encomiastics lends  
Unto my Book. I have of this a sense,  
There's no dispute against Experience,  
And at the Press I cannot be; wherefore:  
Good Printer, let your care appear the more.   

I seldom use more Letters than there's need,  
With witty, learned Howell, and th'more speed,  
With much more ease is found; wherefore excuse  
The humour (since 'tis lawful) of my Muse.  
And I am tired in re-writing, see!  
The reason is, because 'tis old to me.  
Now without malice, I do wished to be  
To all e'r-lasting, (Stationer but to thee.)   

What shall I never quiet be? Now news,  
That I do such a friend in Verse abuse,  
In daring for to consolate in Verse  
After an action that required Cypress,  
Rather than Bays. Now that I writ myself  
Most famous Poet, when the prating Elf  
I shrewdly judge, can scarcely read English.  
Lord, free me from these prating fools I wish!  
Or else in these things let this be my sense,  
" Thou tak'st a Text, and preachest Patience.   

Here's one with Swearing makes the room to shake,  
Saying, OH fool, why dost thou these pains take?  
Is this the way to grow rich? o thou fond man!  
Come hither, cheer thy spirits with a full Cann.  
Will Verse pay debts, or will your lofty Rhymes  
Mount you to place of trust in these our times?  
O the injustice of conceited Owls,  
That think none godly, but those that wear Cowls!  
None wise, but those that with his wit do jump,  
Although for it he lab'rously doth pump.  
Let those that hunt the stately Stagg with hounds,  
Not be (unjustly kept) in th'Shepherd's bounds.  
Those that Hawking delights, not be impeded  
From that refreshment which great Princes used;  
Those that in catching silly Fish delight  
Be hindered from it; Nor that love the flight  
Of a broad Arrow; Those that learn Defence,  
Or those that love to pleas the hearing Sen e.  
Than whence I pray you can a man surmise  
That 'tis unfitting thus to Poëtise?  
If ye please Zoilists to court your Whore,  
Why should I stop you entering at the door?  
If you do fight as stoutly as game-Cocks,  
What helps, if they do pay you with a Pox?  
If Swearing please your humours, and if good?  
Doth me, why do you use this carping mood?   

Some cavil at my Readins first-fruits; yet see  
From many flowers hony's got by th' Bee;  
And the Spider, whose work is all her own,  
As worthless by the Broom away is thrown.  
Some that things Moral with Divine are mixed,  
When some men loves on th'Book by that are fixed;  
And seeking (perhaps) for Verse that is fine,  
May be made amorous of Verse Divine.  
Lastly, Readers, my Muse I'll amend  
If ye accept this, or else here's   
THE END.  
Soli Deo Sola Gloria.   

 

  

  

  

  

  

   

The Alphabetical Table.  

THe Author to his Book in four tongues, next the Epistle to the Reader.  
Content page 42  
Conclusion page 63  
Drunkenness page 16  
The Devil-Pope page 14  
Elegy on one HUNT a Groom, slain cowardly by his fellow-Servant page 32  
Epigrams and Epitaphs page 5  
Epithalamium to Mr. G. H. page 9  
Epistle to Sir R. S. page 6  
Elegy to my Yokefellow page 35  
Elegy to Brother T. S. on the death of his child page 31  
Elegy on the Shipwreck of J.O. and his company page 40  
Epitaph on Thomas Slany Mayor of Lyn page 28  
Elegy and Epitaph on my Daughter AMY. page 33  
Farewell to the World page 10  
The Inn page 36  
The Lordsday page 46  
Long-suffering page 40  
The Opinion page 44  
Pain page 41  
The Protection page 62  
The Repentant page 51  
The Rhymer routed page 21  
Sickness page 60  
The Sinner page 47  
The Storm and Calm page 1  
Song at the Author's last coming out of Germany page 7  
Solomon's Caveat of the Harlot page 59  
The Travels page 25   
FINIS.