Ariosto's SATYRES, IN SEVEN FAMOVS DIS­courses, shewing the State,

  • 1 Of the Court, and Courtiers.
  • 2 Of Libertie, and the Clergie in generall.
  • 3 Of the Romane Clergie.
  • 4 Of Marriage.
  • 5 Of Soldiers, Musitians, and Louers.
  • 6 Of Schoolmastrs and Scholers.
  • 7 Of Honour, and the happiest Life.

In English, by Garuis Markham.

LABORE ET CONSTANTIA

LONDON Printed by Nicholas Okes, for Roger Iackson, dwelling in Fleet-street, neere the great Conduit. 1608.

To the Reader.

GEntle Reader, the vertuous, with their owne, hauing alwaies regard to an others good, do painfully bestow houres, daies, and yeares, to make that easie to others, which they with great labour haue obtai­ned; in their places, vsing all meanes, to reclaime all persons, from all manner vi­ces, and to furnish them with such gifts of grace, as make the possessors all iointly happy. From the man of experi­ence, which hath learning and wisedome, thou mayest bee sure to receiue good instruction. I know my selfe vnable to giue the Author of this booke, his due commendation: if I were, and did, yet should I seeme to some, to flatter, to others not to haue sayd inough: wherefore for thy content­ment, let this suffice thee, the author had his education with the learned, his liuing among the greatest concourse of people, and his life vnreproueable. For his gifts, the world hath already had sufficient experience, in that fa­mous worke of Orlando Furioso. Whosoeuer thou art, I dare assure thee, thou mayest in this discourse (as in a glasse) see thy present estate, and so not misse to iudge rightly of thy end. In reading thou shalt finde pleasure, both in the matter and forme; by considerng thou shalt be able to instruct thy selfe and others; but by practising as thou ought, thou shalt find setled happinesse. Let the example [Page] of others be thy instruction, to flie that euill which hath bin their ouerthrow, and to embrace that good which was their aduancement. Be thankful first to God, then to the author, and lastly to thy Country-man, who for thy sake, without any other recompence, hath taken the paines in most exqui­site manner, to be thy interpreter.

Vale.

The argument of the whole worke, and the reasons why Lodouico Ariosto writ these Seauen Satyres.

THE reasons why Master Lodouico Ari­osto writ these seauen Satyres, so much renowned and esteemed amongst all the Italians, were grounded vpon these fiue principles or discontentments.

First, the Poet being giuen wholly vn­to his booke and study, was in the twen­tieth year of his age (at what time he began to write his Oriando Furioso) entertained into the seruice of Don Hypolito, Cardi­nall of Esta, a greate fauourer of learning and good wits; where he continued certaine yeares at his study, being imployed by his Lord in many matters of greate importance, vntill this strange accident hapned, which was the first occasion why he fell into dis­grace with his Lord and master; and this it was.

The Cardinall Hypolito Master vnto Ariosto, falling in loue with a young Lady his kinswoman (who for her owne part was no lesse in amored of Don Iulio the naturall brother vnto the Cardinall) she confessed vnto him, that the only thing which occa­sioned her (aboue all other) to affect his brother, was the sweet as­pect and beauty of his eies; vpon which the Cardinall grew into so great a hatred against his owne brother, that by iealousie turning his loue into too violent fury, he set espialls ouer Don Iulio when he should goe out of the towne on hunting, and set vpon him with a company of villaines, whome the Cardinall commanded in [Page] his owne presence to thrust out the eyes of his brother, because they onely were the choyce companions of his loue; an acte no lesse infa­mous to the Cardinall, then intollerable to all humane gouerne­ment. Whereupon the Cardinall to escape all punishment that might happen to be inflicted vpon him, hee presently fledde to Agria a Citty in Hungary, whereof he was Archbishop, & liued there vntill the death of Iulio the second then Pope of Rome, to auoyde his fury, who was much incensed against him. And because Ariosto would not followe him thither, as other of his seruants in his ranke did, he tooke it maruellously ill at his hands, and ca­sting him from fauour vpon so sleight an occasion, gaue the Poet a ground for his inuention.

The second cause of his discontentment was, that he being of ve­ry familiar and inward acquaintance with the Medices of Flo­rence, of which family two were Popes in his time, the one Leo the tenth, the other Clement the seuenth, both which he follow­ed in good will, and stood them in greate stead as well when they were banished their country, as when they liued as priuate men in their owne citty: but when he sawe his expectation was deceiued, and that he found them not so ready to requite his seruice as him­selfe imagined he had (and that rightly) deserued, he gaue them ouer quickly, and left the Romane Court, retyring himselfe to liue priuatly in Florence. For aboue all things he loued not to daunce long attendance at the Court for any preferment, neither would he be bound (longer then he pleased) vnto any man, although hee might haue had neuer so much, he prizing his liberty at so high a rate, as he esteemed the same more then the best Cardinals hat in Rome, as himselfe in his second Satyre affirmeth more plainly.

The third cause which made him passionate, was this: his father dying, left him a greate charge and very little liuing, there being fiue brothers of them, and as many sisters (besides his old mother) all which lay vpon his hands to prouide for them; which was no [Page] small corsiue vnto him, to be troubled with so many worldly busi­nesses, he beeing giuen by nature to ease and to sit quietly at his booke; and this greeued him so much, as oftentimes he was giuing ouer his study cleane, meaning to follow the world another while, had it not beene that he was perswaded to the contrary by a gen­tleman a d [...]are friend and kinsman of his, whom he dearely loued, called Pandolfo Ariosto, whose death afterward he very much lamented.

The fourth cause of discontentment was, he was much galled with the loue of women, whereunto he was a little too much gi­uen, it being a veniall sinne amongst the Italians; yet is he the ra­ther to be pardoned, in that he often confesseth his fault, and shew­eth himselfe to be sorry for the same, wishing that he could haue amended it: and also because he deuoted himselfe vnto the seruice of such as were honorable, as was that most faire and vertuous wi­dow descended of the noble family of the Lapi in Florence, as hee himself testifieth in one of his Canzons, in which he celebrateth the beauties and honors of his Mistrisse, setting downe therein the time when, and the place where he first was inamored of her; which was in Florence, in the yeare 1513. vpon Saint Iohn Baptist day in Iune: at what time the Florentines vnder the conduct of their chiefe Captaynes, Iulian and Peter di Medices did solemnize many great feasts, and presented diuers rich showes and playes be­fore the people, in honor of their brother Leo the tenth, who then was newly chosen Pope. But after Cardinall Hypolito dyed, Al­fonzo Duke of Ferrara allured Ariosto by al the meanes he could vnto his Court, offering him great offices and preferments to haue serued him in ordinary, but he louing his liberty more then any treasure refused his proffer, & yet not altogether in such sort, but that in some fashion he was content to retaine vnto him. Againe, had he beene giuen to haue sought wealth and to haue heaped riches together, he could no way haue been without them for diuers great [Page] Princes being willing to haue had him liue in their Courtes with them, made tender of many great pensions vnto him, but he accep­ted of none: only he was content to offer his seruice (as I sayde be­for̄e) to the aforesayd Duke Alfonso, whome he chose rather for country sake, and of meere loue to the place wherein he was borne, then for any great gaine or promotion which he expected.

Fiftly and lestly to conclude, he wrote these Satyres in Cardi­nall Hypolytoes time, and whilst he continued with Alfonso Duke of Ferrara; who amōgst other fauours done vnto him, made him president or lieutenant of acountry called Grassignana (sub­iect vnto his Dukedome) but because the people were very facticus and the country rebellious, and therefore he troubled ouer much with them, he tooke small pleasure in that gouernment, but rather mightily complaineth thereof, as is to be seene in the fourth and seuenth Satyre:

He was borne in Anno 1474: in the Castle of Reggio, which standeth in Lumbardy, his father at that time being gouernour thereof: He dyed of a payne he had in his stomacke, and was buri­ed in Saint Bennets Church in Ferrara, hauing a fayre monu­ment of marble with his statue placed thereupon, and an Epytaph which a gentleman a friend of his bestowed vpon him.

The first Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

He sheweth what qualities such men ought to haue, who goe about to purchase credit and wealth in the Courts of Princes: and that both his seruice and his writings haue beene most vngratefully required by his Lord and Maister.

BRother, both of your selfe and of my friend
To his Brother M r. A. A. and his friend L. B.
I faine would know this doubts vncertaine end:
Whether the Court thinkes of vs as we be,
Or in obliuion drownesour memorie.
Whether my Lord accuse my staying heere,
Or if I haue a friend so nobly deere,
As in mine absence will excuse my blame,
And gainst mine imputations, reasons frame:
That albe others follow him, yet I,
May stay behinde with ample honesty.
Or whether all of you most learnedly,
Read in the wealthy rules of flattery.
(That Goddesse of great Courtiers) rather augment
By your soft smoothings, his high discontent:
And so lift vp the fury of his heart,
Beyond both reason, sense, and my desart.
Well, if you do so, you are then most wise,
For so in these daies Courtiers onely rise:
[Page 2] He is a foole that striues to liue by losse,
And t'is wits madnesse when our prince we crosse:
Not though he said he saw the mid-day bright,
Couered with starres as in the darke of night;
No, he that will by great mens fauours liue,
To sooth and flatter, must by no meanes grieue.
Let greatnesse either praise or discommend,
Do we not see how his attendants send,
Their verdicts sorth, to iumpe with what he saies
Like Echos, or the Actors of stage plaies,
And from their lips send vollies of consent,
As if t'were done by Act of Parliment:
And if by chance, any amongst them be,
(As t'were most strange in such a company)
That dares not speake so much for bashfulnesse,
Yet shall his looke applaud it nearthelesse:
And his old shining countenance tell, that he
In silence doth commend their flatterie:
Though this in others you do discomend,
Yet me it doth much reputation lend:
Because what euer my resolues haue moulded,
I plainly without flattery haue vnfoulded,
And vtterd sorth my reasons in such sort,
That no disgrace would to my fame retort,
The least of which in this extremitie,
I hold of worthy strong validity.
As first my life, which nature bids me prize,
Aboue all wealth thats vnderneath the skies,
Nor will I it by follie shorter make,
Then fortune or the heauens predestinate.
If I should spend in trauaile my best times,
And sucke th'infectious aire of forraine climes,
Being already sickly, I should die,
Two famous Physitions be­longing to Al­phonzo Duke of Ferara, the se­cond of that name, the last of which is said to haue beene borne with a greene palme in his hand, and therefore was thought he would prooue an excellent Physitian, as af­terward he did.
Else Valentine and Post [...] do lie.
Againe, men say I know my bodies state,
Better then any other can relate.
[Page 3] Can iudge what for my selfe is good or ill,
And therefore am referd to mine owne skill,
Which being so, I know my natures strength
Can not endure your cold climes: as at length,
Your selues haue proued and found that Italie,
Doth farre exceed the North in dignitie.
Besides, the cold doth not offend me more,
Then doth their stoues, whose heat I much abhor;
My nature being such, that euen the sent
I loath as t'were a plague maleuolent.
Nor the winters breaths with you a man,
Without his hot house, bath, or warming pan;
Where here with vs, nature doth order keep,
We drinke vntill we sweat, sweat till we sleep:
Eate til our iawes ake, game till our bones are weary,
Kisse till our lips smart: all things make vs merry.
Then who that comes from vs, with you can liue
In health, or to himselfe contentment giue?
Hee compa­reth that part of Hungary where the Cardinall was vnto the cold Ryphean mountaines in Scythia, which are euer coue­red ouer wit snow.
When like Riphaean, snowie mountaines hie,
Many through sharpnesse of the aire do die.
As for my selfe, the vapours which exhale,
And from my queasie stomacke rise and fall,
Breeding Catharres, and my sick braines vnrest,
Which soone frō thence fal down into my breast,
Would quickly rid me, in one night I know,
Both of my life and sicknesse at a blow.
Adde vnto this the strength of fuming wine,
Which boiles like poison in these veines of mine,
Which custome makes them quaffe & to carouse,
Who doth refuse is sacrilegious:
Their me [...]t with pepper, and with spices hot,
Is mixt to make them relish more the pot:
Which diet Re [...]son my Physitian saith,
Will make my sorrow long, and short my breath.
But you will answere me, that if I please,
My selfe may be the Steward of mine ease.
[Page 4] And both prouid warme lodgings and sound friends
Who will not tie me those drunken ends.
Which custome and the countries libertie,
Hath knit to men of place and quality.
You'le say I may prouide my selfe a Cooke;
Whose care might ouer my prouisions looke.
And that my selfe according to my pleasure
Might with my coine, my conduit water measure,
Whilest you and your associates with delight,
Should make of one iust length both day and night:
And I like to a Charterhouse close Frier,
Sit in my chamber, and attend my fire,
Eate mine owne breath, and most impatiently,
Like Timon liue without mans company.
And yet this is not all, behinde is worse,
I must haue houshold stuffe to plague my purse:
Both for my kitchin, and my chambers grace,
As fathers furnish brides in such a case.
This was Cardinall Hyp [...]oes Cooke, whom hee had with him into Hungary.
Besides, if master Pasquin, from his loue,
For once or twice, should dain [...] but to approue,
To dresse my meat alone, yet in the end,
He would my seuere humour discommend,
And say, if such particulars I hold,
I must prouide a Cooke of mine owne mould.
And truly were my wealth strong as my will,
Such counsaile I would earnestly fulfill.
This was one of the greatest landed men in Ferara, whose father maried the base daughter of Borzo, somtime Duke of that City, by whom he had a migh­tie Masse of treasure,
Or if I had Francisco ste [...]iars wealth,
No Prince should be more followd then my selfe:
But this great charge, I can no way support,
My meanes doth yield my minde so little comfort.
Besides, if to my Steward I should say,
(What best these watrish humours doth alay)
That buy and buy (what ere thou paiest) the best,
Because such things my stomacke doth disgest.
If once or twice to please me he do frame,
Foure times at least, he will forget the same.
[Page 5] Not daring sometimes buy them from this feare,
Lest I should it cause the price is deere.
Hence comes it, oft I feed on bread alone,
Which breedes in me the chollicke and the stone.
Hence I liue priuate, hence I am subiect much,
Ariosto by nature was ve­ry cholerick, & be moued for any small trifle, as may appeare by the breaking of the Potters pots, which is spoken of in the story of his life.
To choler, and to euery peeuish tuch:
Fretting and fuming with such peeuishnesse,
That in my best friends, I leaue doubtfulnesse.
Apollo thee I thanke, it is thy will,
And you faire Muses of the learned hill:
I find that for your sakes I not possesse,
Apparell that will cloath my nakednesse.
But say my Lord doth (as it is most true)
Each seuerall yeare make me apparell new.
Yet for your sakes that he performe the same,
T'is most vntrue, or so to thinke a blame.
Himselfe auowes as much, as well I may
With reputation write what he doth say,
Yet am no neerer my cares to rehearse,
Sith he respects strawes better then my verse.
All creatures can commend sweet poesie,
But none respects the Poets pouertie
He mea­neth Orlando Farioso, about which worke Ariosto spent al­most 18 yeares, taking his sub­iect out of Connt Boyar­do, Earle of Scandiane in Lumbardy, who finisht 3. bookes of Or­lando, [...].
That famous worke which I in painefull wise
Compos'd to raise his glories to the skies
He doth deny the merit of all fame,
Learning must beg; but rich men are to blame,
To gallop vp and downe, and post it hard:
My Lord auowes t'is he deserues reward,
Who keepes his banquet-house and banco sweet
And like a Spaniell waits vpon his feet.
That nicely plaies the secret Chamberlaine,
And watches euery houre with great paine:
Or he that to his bottles cleanly lookes.
And cooles his ale or wine in running brookes:
Or else his Page that dares not close an eie,
Vntill the Bergamiskes industriously,
[Page 6] Beat on their anuils, whose very sound
Brings the poore sleepy boy into a swound.
To these he giues his great beneuolence,
And doth approue their worthes by recompence:
He saith if in my bookes he praised be,
T'is nothing or to him, or vnto me.
And that it was the seede of Idle time,
Nourisht by vanitie and foolish rime,
And from my seruice he might more haue gained,
If I in other sort to him retained.
This was a certaine office of no great va­lue in Millain, which the Car­dinal bestowed vpon him.
What if within the Millan chancery,
Vnder the shew of some authority,
He hath bestow'd not fully out a third,
Of that true gaine the place might well afford
Vnto my labour, yet what was done therein?
Was that my trauell might his profit bring,
And that mine endlesse trauell and my cares,
Might bring an end vnto his great affaires?
Well Virgil if thou wilt be worldly wise,
Let my too deare bought counsell thee aduise,
Thy h [...]rp, thy bookes, thy verse with darknes shade,
And in thine old age learne some handy trade:
Or if thou hopest in this world to gaine,
Some office get, or to some Prince retaine:
For worse plague I neare wish mine enemie,
Then to be famous for sweete Poetry.
Yet this be sure, thy liberty is lost,
Vncertainty of place so deare doth cost:
Nor thinke although thou liuest vntill thy haire
Like flakes of snowie Apenius appeare,
Or that thy Lord as many old daies haue,
As aged Nestor bore vnto his graue.
Thinke not, I say, that thou shalt euer come,
By him or by his meanes to hier Rome:
Or if once tired with seruitude thou please
But to looke back or turne vnto thine ease.
[Page 7] Blest maist thou be if he vouchsafe to take,
But from thee what he gaue for vertues sake,
And so without more thought of iniury,
Send thee away with thred-bate charitie.
As for my selfe what euer he hath giuen,
If he back take and make my fortunes euen,
Two famous cities in Hungarie, whereof the first now called Osen, hath vnder the walles towards the north west side, two fountaines or springs rū ­ning out of a maine hill, the one of which is pas­sing cold, and yet sauou­reth of brimstone, & the other so hot that one cā ­not suffer his finger in it. The other citie celled A­gria was an Archbishop­prick, and the Cardinall Lord thereof, where he staid during the papacie of Iulio the second, whose furie he feated, because he had delt so vnnatural­ly & barbarously, with his owne brother, as is shewed before in the ge­nerall argument. Both these townes now are subiect to the Turke.
Because that Buda neither Agria I
Would see or follow him in Hungarie:
Yet I mislike not, force makes me content,
And shall doe, since against me he is bent;
Although away those prosperous plumes he bring,
Which euen him selfe did fix vnto my wing;
The Cardinall Hypolite was much incensed a­gainst Ariosto, because he would not follow him in­to Hungarie, as the rest of his men did.
Although he doe exclude me from all grace,
And will not smile on me with chearefull face:
Although he say I am disloiall proued,
Respectlesse, base, vnworthy to be loued;
And that his publique speeches doe declaime,
How much he hates my memorie and name:
Yet patience shall within my bosome sit,
And thinke that I was borne to suffer it.
This was the reason that I haue remoued
My best obseruance, since I was not loued:
Knowing it was effectles to approue,
To bring incensed greatnes back to loue.
The house of Esta is said to haue descended frō Rogero that famous Palladine which belon­ged vnto Charles the great. This Rogero is re­ported to come from the stock of Alexander the great, his father was King of Riza not far from the mountaine of Care­na, and his mother was called faire Galacuella, who was sister vnto Agramant King of Africk, whose chiefe citie was Bizerta quite raced & destroied by Charles the great, & his Palladines. Rogero afterwards lost his life through the treason of that notable arch-traitor Gano, falling into a wonderfull deepe pit, wherein he with Gradasso king of Sericano, who had maried Ro­geroes sister Marsyza, were most pitifully famished to death: for which, with other horrible treasons more, Gano being after taken, was torne in pe [...]es with wild horses.
Rogero, if thy royall progeny,
From their disdaine blast me with obloquie,
And I from them haue nothing got, altho
Their worthy valours and braue deedes I shoe,
Spending my time and wit most studiously,
To raise them tombes vnto eternity,
Then what should I doe with them? tis well knowne
[Page 8]
Ariosto nei­ther loued hū ­ting, hauking, nor much ri­ding, for grow­ing in yeares he became very corpulēt, grose and vnwieldy.
I am no falkconer, all my arte is flowne.
From such light vanities, I haue not the skill,
To make my spaniels noses please my will:
Nor was I euer brought vp to the same,
Or can there to my worst indeauors frame:
For I am big, vnwieldy, grose and fat,
And such strong motions gree not with my state.
I haue no curious taste, or eie of fire
To please the tongue or the vnchast desire.
Steward nor Cater to a noble man,
I was not borne to be, I nothing can
In those low offices. It had beene good,
I then had liu'd when men eate homely food.
This was the Cardinals Steward, meaning hee would not if he might haue his place, although he fared very daintily, for he was giuen by nature to feed meanly and grossely.
Gismundt accounts, I will not on me take,
Pope Iulio the second, in­tending to make wartes vpon the Duke of Ferara, (whose brother the Cardinall Hypolito was) Ariosto was chosen as a most fit man to go in ambassadge vnto him, to pacifie[?] his wrath, which businesse he managed so well, that he wan great reputation vpon his returne home againe, yet the aforesaid Pope, afterward falling out again with the Duke, and euery man shun­ning the office of embassador, vnto him, knowing his furious & angry nature, Ariosto once more for the seruice of his Prince, and the safety of his country, did aduenter to take this hard enterprise in hand, where he had like to haue lost his life, but that he secretly got a­way. This Pope Iulio was fitter to haue beene a Souldier then a Priest, of whom it is said, that hearing he had lost certaine of his army in the battel, apparelled himselfe in compleat armor, & marching on the way as he came ouer Tyber, he in a great rage threw the keies of Peter therein, saying, he would see if the sword of Paul would stand him in better steed.
Nor vnto Rome an idle iourney make,
Posting with all my reasons to asswage
The fiery heat of great Secundus rage.
But say my fortune at such ods should runne,
That needes by me such seruice must be done:
I feare me in the businesse would be found,
Dangers more great, and able to confound.
Besides, if such hard seruices must be,
And that men must attend with slauery,
He alludeth a certaine signe in Rome, where a man is painted, waiting and attending on a Beare.
As doth Arctophylax vpon the Beare:
He that desires to purchase gold so deere
Let him enioy it freely; for my selfe
[Page 9] I will not at so high rate buy my wealth.
Before aduancement in such sort shall please,
Ile only study how to gaine mine ease:
Rather then cares shall compasse me about
And from my mind thrust contemplation out:
Which though my body it enrich not right,
Yet to my mind it addes such rare delight,
That it deserueth in immortall stories,
To be enrold with all admired glories.
And hence it comes my pouertie I beare,
As it on earth my best of best things were.
This makes that brothel wealth I doe not loue,
Or that great name or titles do me moue:
Or any State allurements so adore,
That I wil sell my libertie therefore.
This makes me neuer to desire or craue,
What I not hope for, nor am like to haue.
Nor choler nor disdaine doth me assaile,
Nor inward enuy shewes my count'nance pale;
Sith M [...]ron or C [...]lio are Lords created,
Or from low basenes into greatnes stated.
Nor doe I care for sitting at great tables,
Soothing the humors of these pufpast bables;
But hold them as the scum of foolery,
Whom rymers taxe in idle balladry:
That I without attendants am content,
To walke a foote, and make my selfe consent
To follow mine affaires; and when I ride,
To knit my cloak-bag to my horses side,
As much doth please me, as at my command,
A world of mercenary knaues did stand.
And sure I thinke my sinne is lesse each way,
In this (for I respect not what men say.)
Then when in court I am inforst to bribe,
And euery scornefull proud delay abide,
Ere our most lawfull suits vnto the Prince,
[Page 10] We can preferre and be dispacht from thence,
Or slander honest titles, or subuert,
Right without reason, conscience or desert,
Only to shew our malice, or whats worse,
(Because thereon doth hang a heauy curse)
To make poore parsons buy their tenths so deare,
That they are double forc't their flocks to sheare.
Besides, it makes me with a pure deuotion,
Thank my good God for my lowe safe promotiō,
And that where ere I come I this haue proued,
I liue amongst the best and am beloued.
Tis knowne though I no seruice had, I haue
Ariosto being of nature desi­rous to be qui­et, and to be his owne man, had rather haue a small thing of his owne, then to serue others & inioy much: for indeede his liuing was but small, although he set a good face on the matter.
Goods to maintaine me, and to buy a graue.
That which to me from birth and fortune came,
Is such as I may boast without my shame:
But for I will not worke your too much paine,
To my first song I will returne againe,
That I no true occasion haue to grieue,
Because in your commercement I not liue.
I haue already strength of reasons showne,
And yet if more should be vnto you knowne,
It would be to no end, sith I doe see,
That our opinious warres will not agree.
Yet with one other more I will contest,
Because I hold it stronger then the rest:
If I from my poore house should start away,
All would to wrack, I being all their stay.
Although A­riosto were his fathers eldest sonne, yet he had 4 brethren more, and fiue sisters, & there­fore his l [...]uing could not be but small, con­sidering his charge. The names of his brethren were Charles, Alexan­der, Galasso and Gabriel. cha [...]es was a soldier, & was then in Hungarie with a friend of Ari­ostos, a captaine called Clean­th [...], who ha­uing the keep­ing of a castle there, was driuen from it by the Turkes. Alexander was secretarie to the Cardi­nall Hypolito, & followed him into Hungarie: but Gabriel although he were borne [...]ame, yet A­riosto brought him vp so well, as he became a reasonable good schollar, and followed his booke hard, yet much inferior to his brother.
Of fiue of vs (all which now liuing are)
Three are remoued into Regions farre.
As Charles, who in that kingdome meanes to stay,
From whence the Turkes Cleanthus driue away:
G [...]llasso for a Bishoprick in Rome,
Doth daily gape and lookes when it should come.
Thou Alexander dost with my Lord remaine,
[Page 11] Making thy seruice purchase of thy gaine.
Only poore Gabriels here: but what wouldst thou
That he should doe hereafter? or what now?
He as thou know'st, of hands and feete is lame,
And so into this wretched world first came.
Abroad he hath not gone, which cannot go,
Little hath seene, and le [...]ethen then that doth know:
Onely at home he doth securely bide.
Now he that takes vpon him for to guid
A house, as I haue done, must haue respect,
That they doe not the impotent neglect.
My maiden sister is with me beside,
Whose dowrie I am bound I shall prouide:
Til which I haue effected honestlie,
I can nor say nor thinke that I am free.
He was a most duetifull and charitable man to all his poore kindred, especially vnto his old mother who liued in the house with him many yeares, of whō he had a most reuerend care and respect.
Lastly, th'unweildie age of mine old mother,
Doth all my other cogitations couer:
She must not be forsaken of vs all,
Vnlesse to ruine wee will headlong fall.
Of tenne I am the eldest, and am growne
An old man full offortie foure yeares knowne,
My head is bald, and for I sicknes feare,
My braines to comfort, I a night cap weare.
The small remainder of my life behind,
To keepe it curiously is all my minde.
But thou whose issue from my mothers wombe,
After me fully eighteene yeares didst come,
Go thou and serue my Lord, and spend thy breath
In heate, in cold, in danger and to death.
Go view the world, high Duch and Hungarie,
Attending on him most obsequiously.
Serue for vs both, and where my zeale doth lack,
Make thou amends and bring my fauours back.
Who if he truly please of me to thinke,
The seruice I can doe him is with inke
To giue his fame large wings, not in the field,
[Page 12] To proue my force, in such assaults I yeeld.
Say vnto him, Great Lord at thy command,
My brothers seruices doe humbly stand,
Whilst I at home with a shril trumpets sound,
Will spread his worthy name vpon the ground:
That it shall goe as farre as Sea or land,
Yea and beyond the Gadean pillars stand.
Two cities standing in the furthermost parts of the duke of Feraras dominions.
To Ariano and Filo it shall fly,
But not so farre as flowes swift Danuby:
For my weake muse can hardly iumpe so farre,
So wet(alasse) my feete and bodie are.
But could the glasse of time to me restore,
Those fifteene yeares which I haue spent before,
Then would I neuer doubt but that the fire
Of my quick braine through all worlds should aspire.
But if he thinkes because he giues to me,
Each foure monthes twenty fiue crownes for a fee:
Which pension is not alwaies duely paid,
But many times by many humors staid:
I therefore shall such bondage to him owe,
As if I were his villaine, and not know
Ought but his will, my health and life neglect,
Enter all dangers without all respect:
If so he think, his greatnes is mistaken,
Nor shall he finde my liberty forsaken.
Tel him ere ile liue in such slauery,
Ile entertaine most loathsome pouerty.
Once there an Asse was, of his skinne and bone
A tale.
So leane, that vnder them he flesh had none,
Who stealing through a hole that broken was,
Into a barne well stuft with corne did passe,
Where he so cloid his stomack and his hart,
That he grew fat and full in euery part;
His bodie growne to such a shapeles masse,
That like a tun his huge proportion was.
But in the end fearing if he should stay,
[Page 13] His bones too dearely for his meate should pay,
Intends to issue forth where he came in,
But is deceiued, for why his bellies skinne,
Hath made his bulke so great with that he stole,
His head can hardly now peepe through the hole:
Nearth'lesse he striues and struggles much in vaine,
Lost is his labour and his booteles paine.
A little mouse which spi'd him, thus did say,
Asse if from hence thou wilt thy selfe conuay:
Thy bodie thou must bring to such poore case,
As when thou first didst come into this place,
Leane and like carion must thy carcase be,
Else neare expect safe harmelesse liberty.
Hence I conclude, and boldly dare impart,
That if my Princely master from his hart,
Thinke with his gifts that he hath purchast me,
It shall not to my selfe ought grieuous be,
That I restore them back to him againe,
So I my former libertie may gaine.
Freedome I onely loue, since I did heare,
That men doe many times buy gold too deare.

The second Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

He sheweth in his owne person that nature is contented with little, and how much a man should esteeme of his liberty. The troublesome life of Church-men, and the great miseries wherein those of the Court of Rome liue.

SIth mine affaires, not my desires become,
To his reue­rend Brother G. A.
The causes why I goe to visit Rome:
At the ele­ction of new Cardinals, and at the death of the old, the o­ther Cardinals vse (through friendship) to exchange their first liuings for others that are better.
When Card'nals change their skinnes like to the Snake,
And for their God doe better choices make:
Now when no dangerous sicknesses abound,
To infect mens bodies that are weake or sound,
Although a greater plague afflicts their mindes,
This is one of the greatest offices belong­ing to the Apo­stolieal sea, it is not much different frō the Roules here with vs in England.
Whilest that same wheele or Ruota turnes and windes:
O not that wheele, which doth Ixion scurge,
But that which doth in Rome so shrewdly purge
Mens purses; whilest through long & vile delaies,
Lawyers on them (As foule on carion) praies:
This was his third brother, of whom he spake in his first Satyre, he was a Church-man, and lay in Rome to get some be­nefice or Church liuing.
Gallasse pray thee take for me (not farre
From that same place where thy commercements are,
I meane neare to that sumptuous Temple braue,
Which auncient Fathers that stout Priests name gaue,
[Page 15] Who Malchas eare from off his head did cleaue,
And more had done, might he haue had but leaue)
A lodging for foure beasts: by which I meane,
This was his man he kept, & one that had serued him long his name was Iohn de pascia, to whom when he died, he left halfe of all the moucables les hee had, because he had bin an ho­nest & faithful seruāt vnto him
Account me with my man (old Iohn) for twaine.
The other two a Moile and Gelding is,
A tired iade, that all his teeth doth misse.
Let it be lightsome, but not mounting hie,
I cannot brooke this climbing to the skie.
A chimney let it haue that will not smoake,
For such perfumes do both me blind & choake.
Of our poore iades, thou likewise must take care,
For should their prouender be scant or bare,
Little the stables warmt'h would them auaile,
And in my iourney I should hap to faile.
My bed and bedding of the best I craue,
That so my rest might sweeter quiet haue.
The matter cotten of fine wooll and thinne,
By no meanes let it be within an Inne.
My wood to burne, I would haue old and drie,
That it might dresse my meat conueniently.
A bit of Mutton, Biefe, or Lambe, or Veale,
For me and for my man doth full auaile.
Although the Poet was very carefull of his health, & very precise in smal matters yet in his diet he was very plain & grosse, & not oner daintie in feeding at all, as himselfe affirmeth in the first Satyr.
No curious Kitchin cooke I do desire,
With sauce to set mine appetite on fire:
Making me haue a stomacke gainst my will,
Or being full haue still desire to fill.
Let those proud curious Artists vse their braine,
To keep their pots and vessels siluer cleane,
And tend on Ladies, or for recompence
This was a noble man of Mantu, a who delighted so much in glutto­ny as hee had choice and change of all sauces for all kinds of meats, he vsed to ea [...]e the more to in­crease his appe­tite. Hee was surnamed by some, Lucuilus of Mantua.
Striue to content Varranos glutton sence:
Whilest I with a poore scullion am content,
And being cleanly, thinke him excellent.
He that by eating, seekes still how to eate,
And makes not hunger sauce vnto his meat,
Let him go cast his vomit farre from me,
Ile neither hold his rule nor companie.
[Page 16] Cookes now on euery vpstart fellow waite,
Who but erewhile did cheese and onions eate,
And in a russet frock was glad to keep,
On barren hils his masters flocks of sheep;
But now (this bore) growne rich by fortunes grace,
Sh [...]mes euen to heare of his first fortunes place.
His Pheasants, Larks, & Blackbirds haue he must,
Who erst was glad to leap cuen at a crust:
Alwaies to feed vpon one dish of meat,
Doth cloy his stomacke, and he cannot eate.
He now the wild bores taste doth truely know,
Which vp and downe the drier mountaines goe,
From th'other which rich Elizean fields,
(Fatned) vnto the Roman market yeelds.
I seeke no water from the fountaines cleare,
But that which come from Tyber, and is neare,
So it be setled well and very pure;
For troubled waters hardly I endure:
For wine it skils not, yet good wine I loue,
And mixt with water many times do proue,
(Though very little) and the tauerne still,
Will yeeld as much or little as I will.
The wines which grow vpon the marrish brinke,
Vnlesse delayed much I neuer drinke.
The strōger wine, my brain doth make the worse
Offends my stomack, & my voice makes hoarse.
What then will these do, which are drunke with you'
I doubt the proofe I shall but find too true.
The wines of the Iland of Corfica, are so excellent good and strong, as there is a pto­uerb in Italy of them, which is An Corso, vn Greco, vn Roma­nesco.
The Corsick wines, and those of faithles Greece,
Nor the Lygurian, though all of one price,
Are not so vile as these: these are so strong,
That to the best conceits they do much wrong.
The Frier that in his study priuate sits,
Is with this liqu or thrust out of his wits,
The whilest with expectation and much doubt,
The wondring people gaze and looke about.
[Page 17] When he the Gospels blessed truth should shoe,
Who comes no sooner forth, but vp doth goe
Into the pulpit with a fiery grace,
A red-rose cheeke, and a dislemperd face:
Making a noise with violence of passion,
And swearing out the scriptures in strange fashīo,
Threatning such iudgments, & such damned fate,
That all his audience he makes desperate.
A notable drunkard, [...]ut otherwise a man that had good parts in him, being Steward or Bai­liffe vnto the Monestarie of S ta. Maria, A­ra Coeli, a house of Franciscan Friers in Rome of which couét also Frier Gna­ling was, a good scholler, but o­uer much giuen to drinking.
This also troubleth M [...]sier Moskins head,
Whilest he is caried drunke vnto his bed,
And F [...]ier Gnaling with his company,
Faining to hate Vennachia mightily,
Who once but got out of their cloister doore,
Two of the chiefest Ta­uerns in Rome, where most commonly the best wine and best victuals were, & where most Dutchmé resort, when they come to the City.
Toth Gorgon or the Aeihiopian More
They go, and there Pigeons and Capons fat,
They eate vntill they breathe and sweat thereat:
So likewise vse they, when as all alone,
They forth from their Refectorie are gone.
Prouide me bookes to pasle those houres away,
In which Romes prelates, onely feed and play.
Who once abroad, they giue a strait command,
None enter at their gates in any hand:
As Friers do vse, who bout the mid of day,
It is a fashion in religious houses, when they are once set at dinner or supper neuer to open their dore vnto any man, knocke they neuer so much, vntill they are ris [...]n from the table, which order the Iesuits obserue more strictly then any other.
(Although you ring the bell, cry loud or pray)
Yet once set at the table, they'le not moue,
Were it to gaine more then a Princes loue.
My Lord Ile say (for brother is too base,
Since Spanish complement tooke plainnes place,
And S r. is sent to euery bawdy house,
T'is now so common and ridiculous:
Signior I'le terme the basest Rascall now,
And making courtsie low vnto him bow)
[Page 18] For Gods sake pray your reuerend Lord to daine
To lend his eare whilest I of wrongs complaine.
Hee setteth downe the proud humour of the Spaniard when he is at his table, in his own language.
Agora non sepuede, will he say,
Es megiore, (good sir) to go your way.
Evo [...] torneis a la magnana. Then
If you reply vpon him fresh agen,
And say; yet let me trouble you once more,
Tell him I do attend him at the dore.
Then surely Cerberus growes Peacocke proud,
And this rough answer thunders forth aloud.
I tell thee friend, my Lord is at repose,
And will not troubled be with suters woes:
He will not speake with Peter, Paul nor Iohn,
Nor heare the embassie of any one:
This speech is reported to come from Cardinal S. George, who being high Chamberlain vnto the Apostolike sea, & a man of migh, tie wealth and authoritie, it hapned that the Pope (that then was) sent one of his chiefe offi­cers to speake with him about some matter of importance: he being then set at dinner, wher­vpon one of the Cardinals Gentlemen told his Lord in his care, that there was one very desirous to speake with him from his holinesse: but he not noting any thing, made shew as if hee did not heare his man: whereupon the partie returned back vnto him that was at the doore, certifying him that hee had deliuered his message, but his Lord Seenied to giue no care vnto him. Notwithstanding this the messenger told him, he must needes speake with him, and with all, vsed such perswasions vnto him, that the yong Gentleman (although very loath) knowing his Lords cholericke nature, returned backe vnto the Cardinall, cer­tifying him once more that the aforesaid partie desired very earnestly to speake with him but one word from the Pope, and that it was M r. Paul Archdeacon of Saint Anastalens one of the Masters of the Chauncery: to whom Saint George (raising himselfe vp a little in his ch [...], and looking very angerly vpon his man) burst out into these blasphemous speeches. Tell him I wil not speak with Paul nor Peter, no nor with their master the Nazaret himself now I am set at dinner. The Gentleman hearing such a terrible shot discharged at his care made haste to report the same to the Archdeacon, who was walking vp and downe before the doore to coole himselfe, who hearing the Cardinals answere, made the signe of the crosse and blessed himselfe, saying, it may well be that Saint George who is a Souldiers rough companion, and one that wanteth good manners might send such [...] answere: But I am sure, Christ himselfe would neuer haue sent so plaine a message vnto his holinesse, and thereupon he de [...]ed.
No though his master Narzareth were here,
[Page 19] He would not daine to moue out of his chaire.
And therefore thou nor manners hast nor shame,
Thy suits at such vnfitting times to frame.
But had I Linx his eies on them to prie,
As with my minds eies I them full espy,
Or were they but transparant like to glasse,
That through their inmost thoughts my sight might passe:
Such deedes I then (perhaps) should see them act
Within their priuy chambers: that the fact
Would giue them iuster cause themselues to hide,
From heauens sunne, then any man beside.
But they in time I hope will quite forsake
This loathed life, and better vertues take.
This as an Item is to their transgression,
To shew I wish and pray for their conuersion.
But sure I am, thou longst to know why I
Desire to visit Rome thus speedily.
This office I spake of be­fore, was giuen him by the Car dinal, which he sought to get during his own life by patent from the Pope, the same being one of the chief occasions why he would lie a while in Rome.
Well, I will tell thee: Tis because I seeke
A liuing small by patent safe to keep:
An office tis, which I in Millan hold,
(Although but smal) yet more then lose I would:
S t. Agaps is a Church in Rome, not far from the Pisca­ria or Fish­market, the re­uersion of which bene­fice, Ariosto was offred, although he would not accept thereof, as you may read a litle after.
And to prouide S t. Agaps parsonage,
I might possesse if th'old Priest worne with age,
And much expence of time, should hap to die,
During the time, my fortunes there should lie.
Thou wilt suppose I runne into the net.
Which I was wont to say, the diuell did set
To catch those fooles, whose ouer burning hearts
Swallowes their makers bloud without desarts:
But tis not so, my thoughts did ne're agree,
To loue this cure or callings soueraginty:
My meaning is, the liuing to bestow,
On such a one as mine owne thoughts doe know
Fit for the same, for his liues grauity,
His learning, manners, vertue, honesty.
[Page 20]
Two things our Poet reue­renced, and would often cōmend them, the one was Priest-hood, & the other Ma­riage, and yet he liked nei­ther of them both.
To be a sacred Priest I will not proue,
Cope, Rochet, Surplice, nor a Stole I loue:
Nor will I haue a shau'd anointed crowne,
Or weare the ring which Bishops do renowne.
In vaine I go about to take a wife,
If I should aime at a religious life:
Or hauing taken one but to suppose,
That for the Church t'were fit my wife to lose:
But both these callings are of such desart,
That albe I adore them in my heart:
Yet when I thinke how full they are of care,
Of neither (with resolue) I venture dare.
Priest-hood and mariage, who so doth obtaine,
Saue but by death, no freedome can attaine.
But here (perhaps) thou maiest demand of me,
My reasons fault and insufficiency:
Wherefore so great a burthen I do take,
And instantly the same away do shake,
Seeking to giue mine honours to another.
Well though thy selfe, my friends & euery other,
Shall blame, nay hate me, sith I doe let go,
And will not take my fortunes when they floe;
Yea since at bounties hands Ile not accept
The gifts of greatnesse, but doe all neglect,
To shriue my soule to thee, and shew the cause,
Which me to such a course of follie drawes:
Ariosto was a man of so good a conscience, That a certaine old Priest, ha­uing a fat bene­fice, called S. Angello, in the Piscaria in Rome, of which wee but now spake, and be­ing in doubt to be poysoned, for greedinesse of the same, by some of his neerest kindred who thought to haue had the next Aduowson thereof, had so good an opini­on of the hone­sty of Ariosto, as he offred to re­signe the same vnto him, du­ring his life, & to soiourne with him rather then with any of his own friends. Ariosto in some sort accepted of his kind pro [...], pe [...]ading him to resign it vnto one of his brethren, because he liked not (as I [...]old you before) to be a [...], which whē he could not by any meanes bring the old P [...]est vnto, he thē got him [...]o bestow it vpō another honest mā fit for the place.
Tis thus. The old priest hauing vnderstood,
By the best friend both to his age and bloud:
That vnderhand his death was closely wrought,
By one that for his holy liuing sought,
Fearing by poison to be made away,
He sends for me, and humbly doth me pray:
[Page 21] That I into the open court would come,
And there take resignation of his roome:
Thinking this meanes to be the onely best,
By which his life might in most safetie rest.
I thankt him for it, yet did all I could,
That he to thee or Alexander would,
(Whose nature in no opposition stands,
With holy orders or with holy hands)
His right and intrest passe, but t'would not be,
Nor to my motions would his sense agree.
Nor you, nor his owne kindred would he trust,
But (like himselfe) thought all men were vniust:
Onely my selfe aboue a world he chose,
And on my faith did all his trust repose:
But when I saw from him I could not haue it
To doe you good; vnto a third I gaue it.
Many I know will me condemne therein,
Sith (carelesse) I refuse such good to winne.
The rather, sith preferment in it is,
Whose pathes who treads can neuer honor misse.
He taxeth re­ligious men, who vnder the colour of humi­lity are growne so proud, as the greatest mo­narchs are glad to humble thē [...] selues vnto them.
Those poore religious wormes scarse profitable,
Simple, vnlearned, weake vnfit, vnable,
Base and despis'd, contem'd of greatest part,
Haue got on best deserts so much the start,
As greatest kings are glad they may adore them,
And blest is he that most may fall before them.
But who so holy or so wise hath beene,
As in his life no fortune hath ore seene?
Either in little or in much I know,
Theres none that can himselfe so perfit shoe.
Each man his humor hath, and this is mine,
He priseth his libertie at a higher rate then to be the wealthiest Car­dinall in all Rome.
Before I will my libertie resigne,
The richest hat in Rome I would refuse,
Though King or Cardinall they should me chuse.
What good to me is got by highest place,
Or at the Table to receiue most grace?
[Page 22] If thence I rise no better satisfi'd,
Then he which in the meanest rome doth bide:
So though my head with waight downe burdned be,
Of miters stor'd with pretious Iewelrie,
What doth it me auaile, if for all this
True ioy and quietnes of minde I misse?
Let others thinke it a beatitude,
That they are sought vnto, obseru'd and su'd,
That armies of attendants doe them grace,
Treading their steps through euery publike place,
Whilst all the people with astonisht eies,
Stare to behold their flattred maiesties.
Yet I suppose them idle vanities.
Yea worse, euen worst of earthly miseries.
I am so foolish mad, that ost I say,
In brothel Rome the Lord is euery way,
More slaue then is his slaue man to his man;
And tis most true, deny it who so can.
The bondage wherein seruingmen do stand,
Is barehead to obey each slieght command,
To run or ride with him, which once expir'd,
There nothing else is at his hands required.
This being done, he may go where he please,
Frolick or game, reuell or rest at ease.
In Rome euery base fel­lowe hath his mistres, which he keepeth Ala po [...]ta, as they terme it.
Only his care is, that at euerie leasure,
He cannot see his wench, or haue that pleasure.
Else as he list, he may go sport about,
Either with company or else without.
On foote or horseback (if he money haue)
Be ciuill, or else swagger like a knaue.
In market, in the Tauerne, in Th'exchange,
Or in the brothell if he list to range.
Cloathes he may weare, of cullers light or darke,
Go as he please; he is not enuies marke,
None take exception gainst him, he may go
Naked, if naked he himselfe wil shoe;
[Page 23] Whereas his Lord (because he will haue place,
To suit his ranke, and giue his glories grace)
Doth leaue the safer seate, and though he gaine
More honor, yet doth lesser wealth retaine.
With profit lesse, and yet with greater charge,
He steares the helme in vaine expences barge.
Many he feedes, sith many on him tend,
Though his reuenues are but small to spend:
For count his first fruits with his bribes and all,
Many yeares profits doe to ruine fall.
Adde vnto this, how he in debt doth stand,
For furnishing his house at second hand.
His gifts to courtiers (but in courtesie)
Chiefly to that great patron Simonie,
Who is his chiefest saint and aduocate,
Because he best doth know his purses state.
But all the sport is, when his holinesse
Sends to imploy him in some seriousnes.
O then, if any of his followers misse,
He cannot go, the way forbidden is.
If that his coach be not in sight at hand,
Or if his moiles doe not most ready stand,
If any thing be orderlesse displac't,
He rages straight, his honor is disgrac't:
If one rude wrinckle in his gowne be found,
Tis to his place more then a deadly wound:
His seruants must in comely equipage,
March two and two according to their age:
When if the basest groome in all his traine,
His very scullion but behind remaine,
He sweares as though he gaue the world this tuch,
That hee's diuine, he nameth God so much.
Out doth he cry he is discredited,
If by such slaues he be not followed.
On no Euangelist he now doth looke,
(Good man) his age cannot indure his booke.
[Page 24] Onely he doth deuise how he may spend
Little; and how his liuing he may mend,
To draw the bowe too farre, breakes it in twaine,
And thriftie sparing is the Lord of gaine.
I will not say but diuers there may be,
That haue both offices and lands in fee.
Who liue at harts ease farre b [...]yond the best,
Free from disturbance, tumult or vnrest:
Nor horse, nor beast, nor man he scarsly keepes,
Whilst with a full purse he securely sleepes:
But there are fewe of t [...]ose, for in these daies,
He's blest that liues content with his owne case;
Now he thats plum'd with sterne ambitious wings,
And vp to heauen his cogitations flings,
He neuer with his owne estate is pleased,
But shapes newe scales by which he will be raised;
From Bishop straight he hath a wishfull hope
To climbe to be the second next the Pope:
When he hath that go [...] will he then be quiet?
No; for his stomack must haue choicer diet.
He now aimes at the sea [...]e Pontificall,
To tread on kings on [...]mperours and all;
But when he hath obtaind this blessed chaire,
Will he be pleased then and free from care?
Neither: for now his children and his friends
To places of great honor he co [...]nds;
When he was poore he sca [...]e was knowne to any,
Now beeing Pope he is a kin to many:
Yet from the Epyrots, nor from the Greeke,
To giue them kingdomes doth he euer seeke,
Neither of Africk nor of Barbarie
Plotteth to giue them any [...]
Nor will he striue to pull the Pagans downe,
And to impale his kinsmen with their crowne,
To purchase which all Europe is at hand,
Furnisht with men and money at command,
[Page 25] Whilst he but acts what doth to him belong?
Weakningthe Turks, making the Christians strong.
He rather seekes by trechery and art,
The noble Colonessi to subuert,
Or to extirp Ursinos princely name,
The names of the two che­fest and most antient houses of the Colo­nessi & the [...]sini
To gaine all Talliacorzos worthy fame;
As from the other he got Palestine,
By royall policie surnamd diuine:
Whilst in the mean time drunk with Christian blood,
He sits and triumphs in his ample good,
Some he sees strangled, some their heads do lose,
And euery thing quite topsie turuie goes.
Nor will he sticke to giue all Italie,
A pray to France, to Spaine or Germany;
And making a confusion of each thing,
Here Ari­ [...]to is very plaine with the Popes & their kindred.
It shall go hard but one halfe he will bring
Vnto his bastard blood, nor doth he care
Tho th'other part fall to the Diuels share.
Then flies abroad excommunications,
Like vollies of great shot, in strangest fashion:
Then roares the buls worse then the Basan host,
Whilst Belles and bookes and candles curses bost.
Hence Indulgence and pardons haue beene found,
To be of warres the instruments and ground.
The gentle­men of Italie for the most part keepe no table for their followers as they doe here in England, but hire them by the months, gi­uing them so many crownes euery foure weekes as they agree vpon, & euery morning they come into their masters hall, where they haue certaine equall allowance of bread and wine, which (God knowes) is but course and small, euery one seuerally to him­ [...]lfe, and that is all he shall haue for that day.
From hence with gold the bearded muffe is prest.
Of all his valures power to shoe the best.
Sons the drunken Dutchman who for pay,
Is hir'd in right or wrong or any way,
These must haue gold (without which thei'le not fight,
And all this charge doth on the subiect light.
Oft haue I heard (and doe beleeue the same)
By those which know the trueth of euery fame:
That neither Bishop, no nor Cardinall,
Nor yet the Pope, who is the head of all,
[Page 26] Had euer money to supply their want,
But that the end grew niggardly and scant.
But let this go, times now are at such passe,
That though one be a foole, a dolt, an asse,
Base of conditions, and (if't may be) worse,
Yet if he haue a well fild heauie purse
He may doe what he list, nor neede he care
What others of his actions shall declare:
Yet those which hoard most, and haue most to giue,
Most commonly most wretchedly doe liue.
Witnesse the starued houshold, who with griefe
Complaine their ruines, yet find no reliefe.
The more the wealthy wittie courtier holds,
The lesse vnto the worlds eie he vnfolds.
Of foure parts of his liuing, three he will
Be sure (all charges borne) to coffer still.
Some great estates there are in Italie, as Barrons and Bishops that keepe a table for their follow­ers, but their cheare with their bread and wine, is so bad as it doth them little good, and the rather be­cause they can neuer eat their bellies full, for the steward sit­ting at the ta­ble, assoone as euer he hold­eth vp his white staffe, (which is the signe of his of­fice) straight the cloth is ta­ken vp, & they are forct to rise frō the board, when oftētimes they haue not halfe eaten what would satisfie nature, & this is the cause instead of saying grace, that they fall a cursing when they leaue the [...]able.
A mans allowance or of bread or biefe,
Is halfe a pound of either for reliefe:
And that (God knowes) is either tough or crusty,
Or hardly mans meate, being old and musty.
Now as his bread and flesh is of worst sort,
So thinke his drinke deserues as vile report,
Either it is like vineger most tarte,
Or Rasor-like it makes the pallat smart:
Either in taste or relish tis so small,
That it hath lost both colour strength and all.
Or to be breefe, in ilnes tis beyond
The Puddle water or the stinking pond:
The Swizzers or Muffes are those people which the antient Historiographers (as Cesar & others) call Heluetians, they haue their habitations in the most high hils of [...]ura, named S. Claude, they are a race of men naturally warlik & rude, & for the sterrillitie of their country more giuen to grasing then to tillage. They are free of thēselues, sometimes they were vnder the Duke of Austria, & now are subiect vnto no Prince, but liue of themselues. They are diuided into thirteene cōminalties, called Cautons, & wil be hired of any Prince for money to fight in their warres, be it right or wrong they neuer respect the same, so they be well paid, and haue their pay truely.
Yet had a man sufficiency offoode,
[Page 27] And at his pleasure drinke to doe him good:
Though they were homely and indifferent,
His grief were lesse, and time much better spent:
But both beeing bad, and of that bad no store,
Needs must the hart break or else couet more.
But thou wilt say, a seruant that is wise,
Will beare with this and smoothly temporise,
Because that scale which raiseth vp his Lord,
Doth some aduancement to him selfe afford,
And as the master mounts the man shall rise,
If with discretion he his wrongs disguise.
But such like fortunes are not generall,
For they like blazing comets seldome fall.
"Honors change maners, new Lords makes new lawes
"And all ther seruants to their purpose drawes.
"Old seruants like old garments are cast by,
"When new adorne them with more maiestie.
"Seruice is no inheritance we know,
"For he and beggerie in one base ranke doe go.
"A chamberlen, a steward and a caiter,
A secretarie, a caruer, and a waiter,
Thy Lord must haue to beautifie his daies,
When thine age can supply not one of these.
Then maist thou thinke that thou art highly loued,
Iffrom his seruice thou art not remoued:
Tis well for thee if thou canst find that grace,
To liue as thou hast done still in one place.
A liuery once a yeare, and nobles foure,
Is a braue price for seruing til foure score:
And then tis ten to one that beg thou must,
Therefore vnto thy selfe, not others trust.
How rightly spake that honest Mulitar,
When comming into Rome from regions farre,
He in the euening heard as he did passe,
That his owne Lord for Pope elected was.
Ah (quoth the slaue) to speake vnpartiall,
[Page 28] Twas best with me when he was Cardinall,
My labour then was little or else none,
Hauing but two poore moiles to looke vpon.
Now shall my toile be double or else more,
And yet my wages paid worse then before.
If any think because my Lord is Pope,
That I on great aduancements ground my hope,
Let him but giue me one chicken or lesse,
And all my rasures he shall full possesse.
No no, the wealthier that the Master proues,
So much the lesse his oldest slaues he loues.
In Naples where Nobility doth flowe,
The Tale.
(Though little wealth doth with their greatnes goe)
There was of good descent a prettie Lad,
That from his tender yeares still followed had
A Lordly caualier, who promisd him
(As courtiers breath [...] can smoothly speak & trim)
That he no sooner should aduanced be,
To any place of worth or dignitie,
But that his page should rise as he did mount.
And for the youth had spent the first account
Of his liues glory, sith since he presumed
Vpon this hope full thirtie yeares consumed.
His Lord now bids him be of merrie cheare,
For nothing that he held should be too deare.
The honest seruant thinking all was gold
Shind in such words, him [...] content doth hold.
Now whilst the hungry master and the man,
Gazd to behold which way preferments ranne;
It hapt the Naples king (through some request)
Him of his priuie chamber did muest.
No sooner was he in his wisht for roome,
But he forgot his auntient tru [...]ty groome,
And prided with his fate now entertaines,
New gallants with braue cloathes and better m [...]anes.
His old true page was in obliuion throwne,
[Page 29] And nought saue noueltie was to him knowne.
Which he perceiuing, taking time and place,
Vnto his Lord he breakes his heauy case,
Humbly intreats him that he would remember
His honest seruice, and some merit render
To his expence of time, and wasted store,
As he with earnestnesse had vowd before.
To whom the surly Neop [...]stan,
Taking him sharply vp, thus briefe began:
Fellow, the world is chang'd from that it was,
When I was scarce my self, thē thou mightst passe
And ranke with my dependants: but as now
Thou canst not do it, nor may I allow
Thy basenes so high place, s [...]h it is fit,
My men be of more meanes, more doome & wit.
Yet nerethelesse since thou hast seru'd me long,
And that I will not do thy labours wrong.
Countnance, but no reward thou shalt possesse,
Sith thou art old, and euen seruicelesse.
The honest man being gald thus impiously,
Returnes his Lord (with griefe) this short reply.
Could I your best imploiments serue before,
When (saue my selfe) you kept no creature more?
And now that you haue many, may not I
My place with as great diligence supply?
Hath all my practise and experience
Brought me no wit, but tane away my senfe.
Now when my paines expected their aduance,
Must my reward be nought but countenance?
Haue I consum'd my liues best floures with you,
My youth and manhood, to reap this poore due?
But youle abandon me I do perceiue.
Well, me you shall not, for tis you ile leaue.
Nor you, nor others, nor no time shall say,
You me dischargd. Loe I put you away.
No greater plague can hang on seruitude,
[Page 30] "Then to be chaind, to base ingratitude.
And here withal away poore soule he went,
Mourning his seruice, and his time misspent.
By this true story wit may plainely see,
What seruants are, and what these Courtiers be.
"Youth spēt in Court, oft brings age to poore state
"Past seruice, past reward, that's seruants fate.
I rather would be king of mine owne graue,
Then vnto greatest greatnesse be a slaue.
"To liue of others lendings is most base,
"In Court to daunce attendance is disgrace.
I like not prison musicke, nor such mirth,
Free was I borne, free will I liue on earth.
"He is truely rich that hath sufficient,
"And hating enuy liueth with content.
Yet libertie exceedes the gaine of wealth,
And therefore I will onely serue my selfe.

The third Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

In this Satyre (as in the other before) hee condem­neth the seruice of the Popes Court, grieueth that the promises made vnto him by Leo (the tenth of that name) were not performed: sheweth the discontentments that arise by gathering together of riches. And la [...]ly enueigheth against the coue­tousue and wicked lines of the Roman Cour­tiers.

SInce (
This Hanibal Mallaguzo was a noble man of Regio, a City in Lumbardy, belonging vnto the Dukedome of F [...]rara, and kinsman vnto Ariosto, whose mother was of that house.
noble Hanibal) thou wil'st me write,
Written to the Lord Hanibal. M.
b After the death of Cardinall Hypolito, Alphonso Duke of Fera [...]a, allured Ariosto by all the meanes he could, vnto his court, vsing him more like a companion then a seruant, offring him diuers offices of preferme [...] to allure him to serue in ordinarie, which with much ado he was content to do, & which he did rather for his countries sake, & by reason of the loue he bare vnto the place where he was borne, then for any great gaine he got by following of him, as he himselfe setteth downe in his Satyre.
How I of Duke Alphonsos seruice like:
Or whether hauing laid old burthens by,
New waights presse on my back as heauily:
Or if they lighter be, for I do know,
If you shall heare creations of new woe,
Proceed from my complaints, you will conceiue,
That I am barbarous, and vnto me cleaue
Vlcers which will not heale, or like a iade,
That I am dull, though nere so much of made)
Then to speake freely with infranchis'd mind,
[Page 32]
Meaning that hee is dis­contented as much with fol­lowing the Duke as he was with belonging vnto the Car­dinall his first Lord & master
Both of my burthens, I like heauy find,
And thinke I had bin blest, if vnto neither
I had beene subiect, sith I lose by either.
Say then (since I haue broke my backe with all,
Like a good Asse, thats laden till he fall)
Say that my spirits heauy dull and ill,
Say both in iest and earnest what you will:
Yet when you haue said what you list or can,
I will speake truth, and be an honest man.
But had I plaid the paricide or slaue,
And brought my father to an early graue,
Regio is a City (as I said before) subiect vnto Ferara, it was first built by Marcus Le­pi [...]us one of the Triumuerats of Rome.
In wealthy REgio, or but that haue thought,
Which Iupiter against great Saturne wrought:
Onely that I alone within my hand,
Might hold his wealth, his liuing and his land:
Which now mongst brothers & mongst sisters be
Diuided into ten parts equally:
I nere had plaid the foole as did the frog,
That for the Stork, did change his kingly clog:
Nor had I wandred to seeke forth my fate,
Or crept for fauour to each great estate.
I had not learnt the Apes duck with my head,
Nor crooked cringging curtsie should me stead.
But since I was not borne heire to my sire,
Nor that his lands fell vnto me entire.
Meaning he was but poore, considering the great charge he had, for the A­stronomers hold opinion, that he which is borne vnder that [...]aner, shall be very rich and weal­thy.
Since I perceiue that subtill Mercury,
Was neare my friend, but rather enemie:
And that (against my will) I am nereth'lesse
Compeld to liue on others bounteousnesse:
I thinke it better, that I do retaine
Vnto the Duke, and be of his great traine:
Then to a lower fortune make my moane
Although my meanes and risings are all one,
Hardly so much, as his who is most poore,
And askes the misers almes from dore to dore.
Few I do know are of my thoughts or mind
[Page 33] And fewer of mine humours I do find.
Most thinke to be a Courtier is most braue,
I say a Courtier is a glorious slaue.
Let such be Courtiers, as by Courts can rise,
To me they are bright suns, and blind mine eies,
Farre wil I liue aloofe from these great fires,
"If strength of fortune strengthen my desires.
"Neuer one saddle one each horse we place,
"Nor doth one garment euery body grace.
Beasts are not for one vse ingenerall,
"For some we see beare much, some nought at all.
The cage is to the Nightinglale a hell,
The Thrush and Black-bird both do loue it well
The Robin red-brest rob'd of libertie,
Growes sad and dies with inward melancholy.
Who seekes to be a Cardinall or Knight,
And that great honours on his house may light,
Let him go serue the Pope or some great King,
Whil'st I liue safe, and hunt no such vaine thing.
I am as well contented with the meat,
Which (though but grosse) in mine own house I eate:
And thinke a carrot root doth tast as well,
Which doth of vineger or pepper smell:
As if of foule or fish, or other bables,
I had euen glewd my selfe to graet mens tables.
And I as well can rest my drowsie head,
Vpon a quilke, as on a downie bed:
And vnder rugs, as much safe quiet hold,
As vnder Turkie workes, Arras or gold.
Rather had I at home stay with my rest,
Saue my poore skin from scars, & know me blest,
Then vaunt that I had seene the India land,
Or frozen Scythia, or the Aethiop strand.
So many men, so many mindes we say,
Each one delighting in his seuerall way,
Some will religious be, some marshall bent,
[Page 34] Some trauell, some at home liue with content,
Yet he thats pleas'd to be a traueller,
Let him behold each country far and neere:
Rich Fraunce, sweet England, fruitfull Germany,
Proud Spain, Greece spoild with Turkish tirany.
As for my selfe, at home [...]le liue alone,
And like no country better then mine owne.
Yet haue I seene how Lumbardy doth stand,
And all Romania, and the Tuscan land.
Besides, that mountaine mightie huge & tall,
Which locks vp Italy as in a wall,
And both those Oceans beating on each side,
I haue beheld, and yet no danger tride.
And this contents me well, for other cost,
Or greater trauels whence mine ease is lost.
I can with Ptolomie behold them all,
In euery sort, vnile or seuerall.
All seas I likewise can behold and see,
(Without vow making in extremitie,
When heauē threats, with speaking thūder claps)
More safely in our moderne painted maps,
Then when I shall a rotten vessell enter,
And my poore life to certaine danger venter,
The Dukes seruice, I take it as it is,
Which if't be good, tis better much by this.
In that he seldome from his Court doth part,
And so is friend to study and to art.
Nor doth he seeke to draw me from that place,
Where my lodg'd heart doth liue in its best grace
But now me thinkes I see you all this while,
How at my words and reasons you do smile.
Saying, that it is neither countries loue
Nor study, which incites me not to moue.
But tis my M rs. eye that onely blinds me,
And in these euerlasting loue-knots binds me.
Well, I confesse the truth, tis so indeed,
(And then confession, better proofes not need)
[Page 35] Tis most true, I list not to contend,
Or any falshood with my sword defend,
What ere the reason be, I stirre not out,
Or like a pilgrime walke the world about.
It is sufficient that it doth me please,
Nor would I other haue themselues disease
About mine actions, since my selfe knowes best,
Why I do heere with homely quiet rest.
Some will obiect, and in their wisedom say,
That if to Rome I had kept on my way:
And aim'd at Church promotions, I might then
Haue farre exceeded many other men:
So much the rather, as I was approued,
This was Le [...] the [...] a Ho­rentine born of the house of Medices, and was of familiar acquaintance with Ariosto.
To loue the Pope, and was of him beloued:
As hauing of his first acquaintance beene,
Long ere he had his daies of glory seene:
Which came to him for vertue, or through chance
And therefore reason he should me aduance.
Yea long before the Florentines set ope,
Their gates to entertaine him, or that hope.
Iulian di Me [...]dices, and Peter were breth [...]en to Pope Leo the 10. who made the for [...]aid Iu­lian Duke of Nemours, & maried him to the Lady Phi­libert of Sauoy, aunt to Francis the French King, the first of that name. This man be­fore his brother was Pope, be­ing banished with the rest of thier family, out of Flor [...]ce were entertai­ned with great kindnes by Frācesco Maria, duke of Vebin, who in their exile did thē al the honors that might be, notwithstāding al which curtesies, Leo cōing to be Pope most vnki [...]dly draue the aforsaid duke out of his coūtry at the perswasiōs of Alphonsina, mother to his Nephew Laurence, on whō he bestowed the dukedom, who did cōtinue in the same vntil Adrian the 6. that succeeded Leo, expulsed him, & restored Prācesco Maria the true owner to the estate again, who enioyed it vntil he died, being the space of [...] yeares, in so great reputation, that all the Princes of Italy both loued & honored him to many of which he was entertained as General in their wars, but he was so great a builder, & so liberal to his Souldiers, that when he died he left no money behind him.
Moued worthy Iulian his ennobled brother,
In Vrbins Court, his losses to recouer.
[...]embo was borne in a Castel in Lumbardy, called Arralano, he was an excellent Poet & Orator, he was Secreta­ry to Pope Leo the 10. and at last was created Cardinal, he died in Pad [...]a, his monument be­ing in S. Francisses Church, in the City where hee lieth buried by Castilian, he meaneth Count Balthasar Castilian who made that excellent peece of worke called the Courtier.
Where with learnd Bembo, and Castilian sage,
Apollos haire, flowers of that formall age,
He spent the daies of his first banishment,
In great delight of thought and hearts content.
And after when this subtill Medicy
Ouer their Country vs [...] his tirany.
[Page 36]
The Medicy hauing gotten the Emperours army, (who then was in I­taly) to repose them in Flo­rence, and to cal them home into their City againe, diuers of the Citizens were against it, especially Peter S [...]derine, who wa [...] then Gon­ [...]er, which (was the chiefe officer of that City) but in the end they were inforced to ad­mit them, and the aforesaide Peter glad to leaue his autho­rity, and hard­ly escaped with life from out the palace, at what time. (not long after) what by faire meanes of Leo the tenth their kinsman, and afterwards by fauour of Charles the fift. they seazed vpon the whole estate, and after got to be abso­lute Princes thereof, as at this day they are.
When the Gonfalconer forsooke the Court,
Leauing his place, his honours and his port,
Till Leo vnto Rome did make repaire,
And was installed in S t. Peters chaire.
In all which time, to none he shewd such grace
As vnto me, whom he did euer place
Next to himselfe, affir [...]ing I and none
Was else his friend and best companion:
So that in ranke of fauour, I alone,
Stood still vnseconded of any one.
B [...]sides, when he as Legat first did passe
To Florence, this his protestation was:
That I as deerely in his fauour stood,
As did his brother, or his best of blood.
These circumstances well considered,
And euery fauour rightly ordered,
Though some of little value wil esteeme them,
Yet others of more better price may deeme them.
And thinke if I would daine to Rome to goe,
And to his holinesse my fortunes shoe:
Doubtlesse I might obtaine for recompence,
Any faire suit of worthy consequence.
And that at my first motion or request,
A Bishopricke were granted at the least.
But they which think, such great things so soone got,
With iudgement nor with knowledge reckon not.
And therefore with a pretty history,
I will to such men giue a short reply:
Which hath in writing put me to more paine,
Then any man in reading shall attaine.
Long since, there was a scortch Sommer seene,
A tale.
Which burnt the parcht earth with his beames so keene:
That it was thought Phoebus once more had giuen
His Chariot to his bastard to be driuen.
[Page 37] For euery plant and hearb was dead and dride,
Nor any greenes on the ground was spide.
No fountaine, spring nor poole, or low or hie,
But had his veines stopt vp and now stood drie:
So that through riuers, chanels and great lakes,
Men their long iourneies safely dry-shod takes.
In this hot time a wealthy swaine did liue,
(Or ra [...]her stile of poore I may him giue)
Who had great store of cattell and of sheepe,
But wanted moisture them aliue to keepe,
Who hauing long searcht euery hopeful ground.
(Although in vaine) where moisture migh be foūd:
He now inuokes that God omnipotent.
(Whose eares on faithful orizons are bent)
And he by inspiration in a dreame,
Grants ease vnto his griefes that were extreame:
Telling him that not farre from that dry land
Within a certaine valley nere at hand,
He should such store of wholsome water finde,
As should giue ease and comfort to his minde.
The swaine at this, takes children and his wife,
And all his wealth (the second to his life)
Leaues neither slaue, nor houshold stuffe behind,
But hasts the blessed vallies help to find;
Where he no sooner came, but in the ground
He causd to dig, and water did abound.
But now he wants wherewith to take it vp,
And therefore is inforc't to vse a cup,
A little cup, whose little quantitie,
Hardly did serue one draught sufficiently.
Which as he held, he said, now my hot thirst
Ile coole, sith it is reason I be first.
The next draught doth vnto my wife belong,
Next to my children (if I doe not wrong:)
When they haue done, my seruants shall begin,
Each as his merit and desert doth winne.
[Page 38] And as they haue bestird themselues with paine,
To make this well, from whence this good we gaine.
This said, he then vpon his cattel thought,
The best whereof, he meanes shal take first draught:
And those which leanest were should be the last,
He thus his damage and his profit cast)
When euery thing was ordred in this fashion,
He tasts the water first and cooles his passion,
Next him his wife, his children followed than,
(As he had made the lawe) man after man.
Now euery one fearing the waters losse,
Began to presse about him, and to crosse.
His fellowes merit where most worth was cast,
All would be first, none willingly the last.
When this a little parret had suruaid,
With whom this wealthy shepheard often plaid,
And had in times past made it all his joy,
Taking delight onely with it to toy.
And when it wel had vnderstood their strife,
It clamord forth, ah woe is my poore life.
I nor his sonne, nor of his seruants am,
Nor for to dig this well I hither came:
Nor can I either profit to him bring,
Then foolish mirth, and idle wantoning.
And therefore must be quite forgot of all,
And made the last on whom last lot must fall.
My thirst is great as theirs, my death as ni [...],
Vnlesse I can to better safetie flie,
Therefore I must elsewhere seekemy releefe,
And so away he flies with all his greefe.
My Lord I doe beseech you, with this storie,
Pack from your eares, those fooles that fr [...] vaine glory.
Thinke that his holinesse wil me raise before,
These are noble families in Florence, which were great friends to the Medices.
The Neri, Vanni, Lotti, and some more.
His bastards, Nephewes, kinne and other such,
Shall quench their thirsts ere I the water touch.
[Page 39] Nay there shall step betwixt me and my hope,
All those whose helping hands did make him Pope.
When these haue drunk, their steps forth to be serued,
Whole bands of martialists halfe pinde and sterued.
That gainst stout Sodernie did weapons beare,
Making his passage into Florence cleare.
The country of Cassentine amidst the which [...]eth the riuer Arno, it is a territory narrowe, bar­raine and full of hils seated at the foote of the Appenine moūtaines, of which Bib [...]na is the cheefe towne, this the Medici went a­bout to surprise when they were Banditi & banished from their country, but beeing re­pulst by the Florentines ar­my, which then kept them out, they escaped from [...]hence not without great danger of losing their liues. The cheefe captaine of this company, was this Peter brother to Pope Leo, who afterward was most vnfortunately drowned as he was going towards Cai [...]a not farre from Naples, He was elder brother to Pope Le [...] and Iulian di Medices, which three were sonnes to that fa­mous Laurence di Medices, of whom Guychardine in the beginning of his historie maketh most honourable mention of, Cosimo the great being their great grandfather, who was a citizen of fingular wisedome and of infinite wealth.
One boasts that he in Casentino was
With Peter, when he scarce from thence could passe
Brandine is the surname of a rich fam [...]lie in Florence, whose cheefe wealth consisteth in money, and who lent great store of coine vn­to the Medices when they were in want.
With his lifes saftie whilst Brandino cries,
I lent the money which his honors buies.
An other doth aproue, t'was onely hee
Maintaind his brother with a yearely fee:
And at his proper charges did prouide,
Both horse and armour, and what else beside.
Now if whilst these drinke I stand gazing by,
Either of force the well must be drawnedrie:
Or else my thirst my bodies health must slay,
Sith stil such violence brookes no delay.
Well, tis much better to liue as I do,
Then to aproue if this be true or no.
Or whether fortunes fooles which waite vpon her,
Doe drinke of Lethe when they rise to honour.
Which though it be most true that fewe do climbe,
But they forget the daies of former time,
Yet can I hardly say his holinesse,
Hath drunke much water of forgetfulnesse.
No I may well protest the contrary,
Since I did find that in his memory.
[Page 40] I held my place, and when his foote I kist,
He with a smiling countnance prest my wrist,
Bowd downe his fore-head from his holy chaire,
And gaue me words of grace, and speeches faire,
He gently stroakt my cheekes and did me blisse,
And on them both bestowd a sacred kisse.
Ariosto she­weth himselfe to be of a good nature, which tooke so thank­fully so small a reward, consi­dering how much he had deserued at the Medices hāds.
Besides he did bestowe that Bull on me,
Which Bibie [...] after seriously
Dispacht, and got, although I yet did pay
Some bribes before I was dismist away:
But being done, and I ioyd therewithall,
(All wet through raine & stormes which thē did fall.
Vnto Montano fast I rode that night,
Where I reposd with merry hart and light.
Thus curteous words and speeches I had many,
But other fauours I possest not any.
But say twere true the Pope should keep his word
And to me all his promises afford,
That I might reape the fruits which I did sow,
Both now and elsewhere many yeares agoe:
Imagine with more Miters and read hats
He would adorne me, and with greater stats,
Then euer at the Popes great solemne masle,
Hath or beene seene or euer giuen was.
Nay say he fild vp all my bags with gold,
And cramd my chests as ful as they could hold:
Shall yet th'ambition of my greedy minde,
Enough contentments for her humors finde?
Or shall this quench my thirsts consuming fire?
Or wil my thoughts take truce with her desire?
No; I from Barb'rie to Catay wil goe,
From Dacia, where seuen headed Nile doth flow:
Not Rome alone must hold my soueraign [...]y,
So of my affections I might master be;
And so I might haue power and both be able,
To tame my thoughts, and hopes vnsatiable.
[Page 41] But when I shall a Cardinall be instald,
Or what is more, seruant of seruants cald,
Nay when I shall aboue the Pope be spi'd,
And yet my minde rest still vnsatisfi'd.
To what end then should I so much disease me,
Or toile my selfe for that which wil not please me?
Tis better priuatly to liue, then thus
To vex and greeue for titles friuolous.
I speake not this as though my selfe were he,
Whose nature could with no content agree:
But to this end, that sith all greatnes euer,
Doth in this endlesse Auarice perseuer,
(Who though they all possesse, yet more doe craue.
As if they would imploy them in the graue.)
I thinke its better liue a priuate life,
Then wealth to hold with vnabated strife.
Then when this world was in her infancy,
A tale.
And men knew neither sin nor trecherie;
When cheators did not vse to liue by wit,
Nor flattery could each great mans humour fit,
A certaine nation (which I knew not well)
Did at the foot of an high mountaine dwell,
Whose top the heauens counsailes sent to know,
(As it apear'd to them that liu'd below)
These men obseruing how the moone did rise,
And keep her monthly progresse through the skies:
And yet how with her horned forehead she
Alterd her shape, her face and quantitie,
They straight imagin'd if they were so hie,
As the hils top, they easly migh espie,
And come where she did dwell to see most plaine,
How she grew in the full, how in the waine.
Resolu'd thereon, they mount the hill right soone,
With bask [...]ts and with sackes to catch the moone,
Striuing who first vnto the top should rise,
And make himselfe the master of the prize,
[Page 42] But mounted vp, and seeing that they were
As farre off as before, and neere the neare,
Wearie and feeble on the ground they fall,
Wishing (though wishes are no help at all)
That they had in the humble valley staid,
And not like fooles themselues so much dismaid.
Th [...]rest of them which did remaine belowe,
Thinking the others which so high did show,
Had toucht the Moone, came running after then
By troopes and flocks, by twenties and by tenne:
But when the senselesse misconceit they found,
Like to the rest they wearie fell to ground.
This loftie mountaine is the Wheele of fate,
Vpon whose top sits roializd in state,
(As ignorance and follie doth suppose)
All quietnesse, al peace, and sweete repose.
But they (alasse) doe all mistake the ground,
For there nor ioy is, nor contentment found.
Now if with riches or with honours went
(Like louing twins) the minds desird content:
Then had I reason to commend that wit,
VVhich were emploid and spent to purchase it.
But when I see both Popes and mightie Kings,
(VVho for the soueraignes are of earthly things,
As gods within this world esteemed are)
That they of griefes and troubles haue their share,
I needes must say, content they doe not hold,
As long as they haue sorrowes manifold.
Should I in wealth the mightie Turke ou [...]oe,
Or boast more glories then the Pope doth know,
And yet still couet higher to aspire,
I am but poore, through that my more desire.
VVell tis most reason and our best best wit,
To liue of things are competent and fit,
VVhereby wee may not pine away with want,
Nor of our needfulst needements to be scant.
[Page 43] For euerie one all strength of reasons haue,
To nourish life, and not liue as a slaue:
But if a man be so sufficient rich,
That hee too little hath not, nor too much,
That hath enough his nature to content,
And in desire is not ore vehement:
He that can ease his hunger at his pleasure,
And giue each appetite his equall measure:
He that hath fire to warme him when hees cold,
A house to shelter him when he is old:
That when he should ride forth is not compeld,
To lackey spaniel-like through euery field,
But to command a horse is alwaies able,
And keepes a man to waite vpon his table.
Besides a cleanely houswife that will keepe
His house in comely order neate and sweete:
If this I haue, what neede I more request?
For hauing thus much, I haue all the rest.
Enough is neuer then aboundance lesse,
He that all couets, nothing doth possesse.
Besides this duetie, reason doth demand,
That on strict tearmes of honor we doe stand,
Yet in such sort that we be neuer found,
T'exceede the golden meane in any bound;
For nothing is on earth more dangerous,
Then to be noted as ambitious.
This is true honour when the world doth cry
Thou art an honest man and so dost die:
VVhich if thou beest not, it will soone be knowne,
And as thy faults are so thy fame is blowne.
Hypocrisie is wouen of fine thrid,
Yet fewe in these daies can in nets be hid.
Because each one right reuerend doth thee call,
Or Earle or Baron, Knight or Generall,
I would not haue thee thinke they honor thee,
Vnlesse more in thy selfe then titles bee.
[Page 44] But when I see thy merits worth doth moue
From vertue, then thou shalt enioy my loue.
What glory ist to thee when I behold,
How thou apparel'd art in silkes and gold?
Or that the wondring people with amaze,
As vp and downe thou walkest, vpon thee gaze?
If afterward, assoone as thou art gone,
And thy backe turn'd, they sing this hatefull song.
See there the man who for a bribe in gold,
The gates of Rome vnto the French-men sold:
Which gates to keep, he had of speciall trust,
Yet sold the same, an art base and vniust.
Fie, fie, how many knight-hoods here are bought,
How many Bishoprickes desertlesse caught?
Which after being knowne abroad become,
The foule disgrace and scandall vnto Rome.
To be an honest man in word and deed,
Though on my backe I weare a course plaine weed,
As much doth please me as if I did go,
Royally clad in roabes which kingly shoe.
Let him that will or gold or veluet buy,
For I will not with spots of infamy.
Vnder this name he tax­eth some noto­rious & wicked man that grew rich through villanie.
But now me thinkes base Bomba doth reply,
And vnto mine assertions giues the lie:
Saying, let me haue riches, I not care,
Or how they come, or how they purchast are:
Come they by villany, by drabs or dice,
Riches are euer of most worthy price.
Vertue is riches bastard, nor do I
Respect, against me what the vulgar cry.
"All men of no man speaketh reuerently,
"And some haue raild against the deity.
Husht Bomba husht, do not flie all so fast,
But flag thy wanton peacocks traine at last,
I tell thee none blaspheme the deity,
But such as are more dam'd in villany,
[Page 45] Then those who naild their maker to the Crosse,
Whose woes eternally do mourne their losse:
Meane space the good and honest sort one word,
Will not of goodnesse to thy fame afford.
They say false cards, false dice, and falser queanes,
Purchast thy liuings and thy large demeanes.
And thou administrest to euery tongue,
Matter to talke of, as thou walk'st along:
Wearing and tearing out more cloth of gold,
More silkes and Tissus from Arabia sold,
Then all the worthy gallants Rome doth breed,
So much thy pride and riot doth exceed.
Those thefts and cosenages thou shouldst conceale,
Vnto the world and me thou dost reueale.
Making euen fooles and sillie Infants know,
That cottages where hardly thatch did grow,
Thou in these few yeares palaces hast made,
By thy smooth cheating and thy cosening trade:
The world doth see thy banquets and thy feast,
Where in thou surfet'st like an ore fed beast.
Yet thou conceiu'st that thou a gallant art,
And all that smile on thee do take thy part.
Foole, those same smiles are like the serpents hisle,
And they would kill thee faine which doe thee kisse.
This is also a shadowed name, whereby hee biteth at some others of as bad faults as may be.
Bor [...]o (so no man tell him to his face,
How vile he is) beleeues it no disgrace:
Although behind his backe he heare men cry,
He hath nor faith, nor loue nor piety:
And how that worse then bloudy-handed Caine,
He his owne brother tyrant-like hath slaine:
Although an exiles life he hath indured,
Yet all agree'd, all euils now are cured:
And he the whole inheritance hath got,
Without vexation of a partners lot.
Therefore let all men say what all men can,
Hee [...]e walke the streets (sith rich) an honest man.
[Page 46] Another that's as vile as is the best,
Tiers out his daies with labour and vnrest:
Till he haue got a Miter in such fashion,
As shames himselfe, his kinne and all his nation:
When he no worthier is to beare the load,
Then a base asse is of a Purple roab.
But knew the world how to this height he came
The very stinke would poyson them with shame.
O times corrupt, O manners worse then nought,
Where nothing but whats vile is sold and bought!
Too true it is, which all the world hath told,
All things at Rome, euen heauen for coine is sold.
William surnamed Rufus, when in hand,
A ta [...]e.
He swaid the English Scepter at command,
It chanc't a wealthy Abby void did fall,
Whose great demeanes being rich in general,
Many came to the king the same to buy,
(For he did mony loue exceedingly)
Now when Church chapmē al were com'd vnto him
And with their vtmost sums did amply woe him,
He spide a Monke stood halfe behind the dore,
Whom straight he cald, and bade him come before:
Imagining he came as did the rest,
With full fild bags, to make his offer best,
And therefore thus the king most gratiously
Speakes to the Monke; Tell me man willingly,
What thou wilt giue; great the reuenues are,
And thou free leaue to offer for thy share.
My gratious Lord (the old man did reply)
I came not hither this rich place to buy:
For I am poore: or had I wealth at will,
I would not load my conscience with such ill:
As to ingrosse Church liuings aboue other,
Making me rich by robbing of my brother.
Besides, I were an asse to vndertake,
To lay too great a burthen on my backe:
[Page 47] Which to support, I know I am vnfit,
Both for my learning, industry and wit.
Onely I hither came in humble wise,
To beg of him which to this place should rise,
That I this pe [...]ty fauour might but haue,
To be his Priest, his beads-man or his slaue.
The King who heard this old man gratiously,
And finding in him true humilitie,
Whence his rare vertues sprang so curioufly,
That they exceld his ranke in dignity:
Freely and frankly without recompence,
Gaue him this Abbey and dispatcht him thence.
Saying he it deseru'd most worthily,
Sith he so wel could brooke his pouertie.
Neither such gift nor King I ere shall know,
Yet such a mind and thoughts within me grow.
I haue a mind which harbours calme content,
Voide of all lucre, and from malice bent.
And would I fish for liuings, theres no doubt,
But I shold easily bring my wish about.
Ari [...]o was somewhat vari­able in his de­sires and a litle humourous withall, and therefore would hardly be bound or tied to any thing longer then himselfe listed.
"But home is homely, I am best at ease,
"When I haue none but mine owne selfe to please.
"Riches are still the children of much care,
"Who couets nothing, onely rich men are.
"Great is the labour which doth purchase gaine,
"Greater the sorrow which doth it maintain [...].
"But once to lose it, euen death doth bring:
Ile no such bees which haue so sharp a sting.
Sufficient for my selfe is my small store,
And greatest monarches do enioy no more.

The fourth Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

He sheweth that it is good and necessary to marry, and yet by the way glaunceth merily at that state of life, shewing how hard a matter it is for a man to keep his wife honest and chast.

I Heare
Ariosto being not giuen to mary, his kins­man the Lord Hanibal was loth to make him priuy to his wedding; which hee ta­keth very vn­kindly in this Satyre.
by strangers, friends the world and all,
Written to the Lord Hanibal Malaguzzo.
(Except thy selfe, thrice noble Hanibal)
That thou art now about to take a wife,
Knitting these worlds cares to a better life.
I not mislike that so your fancie stands,
Onely I take vnkindly at your hands,
That vnto me you would not tell your mind,
Since in my counsailes you might comfort find.
Perhaps thou hast conceald it, from this feare,
Lest I should hap t'oppose what thou holdst deare,
Thinking because my selfe vnmarried am,
Therefore I marriage wil in others blame.
If so thou censur'st me, thou dost me wrong:
For though I neuer knew what did belong,
To wedlocke: yet I neuer haue withstood,
Those which choose mariage as their chiefest good,
He excuseth himself in that he liued a bat­chellor so long, which hee saith was his hard fortune, and not his fault: although there is no doubt, but if hee had listed, hee might h [...] matched very well, and euery way to his contentment.
Oft haue I grieu'd, and yet I sadly mourne,
[Page 49] That then to marry, I haue chose to burne.
My selfe excusing that I still was crost,
By hand of Fate, and so my fortunes lost:
For though vnto it I was fully bent,
Occasion still my meaning did preuent.
But this hath euer mine opinon beene,
Nor euer shal there change in me be seene:
That men cannot in perfect goodnesse stand,
Vnlesse he liue within the mariage band.
Nor without women can liue free from sinne,
For he which thrusts such guests out of his Inne,
Is either forc't to borrow of another,
Or theese-like without consci ence robs his brother.
Hee could giue good counsaile him­selfe, but could not follow it, as Medea saith in [...].—Video me [...] ­ra proboque deteri [...]ra se­quer—
Besides, who vnto stranger sheets doth cleaue,
Turnes Cormorant, and temperance doth leaue.
For if to day he seed on larke or quaile,
Next morne, heele haue the Pnesant or the Raile.
And which is worst, he looseth sense of loue,
And that sweet touch which charity should moue.
He enueigh­eth against some Priests, who liued too much inconti­nently.
Hence comes it, priests of all men are the worst,
Biting like dogs with madnesse made accurst.
The whilest no common Palliard, baud nor slaue,
Carries more viler surfets to his graue.
Borrow of all they doe, but none they pay,
Base are their deedes, how well so ere they say.
Againe, in publike cariage and in shoe,
They are so void of iudgement, and do goe
So farre from vertue, that I wonder much,
Women will daine but to be toucht by such.
You know tis true, who do in Regio dwell,
But that all truths, for feare you dare not tell.
Bug-beare confession whispering in your eare,
I [...]is damnation to tell all you heare.
Well, though you nothing say, yet from your eies,
I read the depth of all these mysteries,
Modena is a City in Lum­bardy, subiect vnto the Duke­dome of Fera­ra (now the Popes) where the Church­men bare them selues ouer li­centiously and more vnc [...] then becomeed them. In this town Sadolet [...] and Molza, two learned I­talians of their time were borne.
Ofstubborne Modena I speake nought at all,
[Page 50] Who though this great plague did vpon it fall,
Yet it deserueth to be punisht worse,
May on her and her priests light heauens curse.
But now to you. Elect betimes your mate,
Better too soone to marry then too late.
And since perforce thou needes this life wilt try,
Aduenter on it most couragiously.
A famous Physi [...]on of Ferara, who married not til he was all 80. yeares old, & then (doating) tooke a mar­uellous faire maid vnto his wife, and pre­sētly after died.
Do not as did doctor B [...]on Leo old,
Who tooke a wife when all his bloud was cold:
When age had made him for a graue more fit,
Then or for wife or youthfull appetit.
Defer not thou till age come creeping on,
Lest strength consum'd, thy body suffer wrong.
"Old ages Herbingers and snow-white haires,
"Warme drinks & cloathes are good for many yeares:
A cup of wine in withred Hermons head,
Is better then a faire maid in his bed:
Age with such liquors often is well eas'd,
Venus with gouts and palsies is not pleas'd.
Faire Hym [...] is not painted old,
But youthfull, fresh, with saffron haire like gold:
The old man feeling but some sparkes of fire,
Which with much labour doth but warme desire,
Begins to rouse his Icie spirits vp,
As if he had caroust on Aesons cup:
Much he imagins he can do, when loe,
Strength doth forsake him, ere his strength he know:
And he poore soule euen in his height of pride,
Is conquer'd ere th'encounter he haue tride.
Yet so he must not thinke his wife will yield,
Her better spirit better ioyes the field.
"Fire with water, neuer will agree,
"Nor nature will not loose her soueraigntie.
But say it were not so; yet in these daies,
The world being rather giuen to dispraise,
Then to speake well of any, who are they,
[Page 51] Will marry Winter vnto youthfull May?
But they will wish Saint Lukes badge on his head,
And that in horne-bookes he be deeply read.
And thus although they merit not this blame,
Yet can they not escape all poisoning fame,
Who for the most part doth of falshoods prate,
But be it false or true tis then too late
To call i [...] home againe, if once the vent,
About the bussing busie world be sent:
And who his honour or good name doth loue,
Must patient be for he this crosse must proue.
Yet this bad p [...]n nothing is at all,
But that which we damn'd iealo [...]sie do call:
Although tis ill enough when we behold,
An Infant whom the cr [...]le doth infold:
And two or three crope newly from the shell,
Who in their clamours do their grieuance tell.
Adde vnto these a pretty girle or twaine,
Whom thou in vertues manners seek'st to traine:
Yet hast not any whom thy soule can trust,
Will honest be to them, or to thee iust.
But rather will allure them by all meanes,
To vitious liuing, and to shamelesse straines.
Chuse wisely then, since thou dost know this curse,
He findeth fault with di­uers Gentle­men of Ferara, that were yon­ger brothers, who because their wealth was little, would not mar­ry when they were young, & yet comming to be old, they made their choice worse, when getting their owne maides and drudges with child, they were after glad to marry them because the children which they had got by them should not be counted bastards.
And like our Gentlemen be not found worse.
Many of which buried in cloisters low,
Lie hid, while'st grasse doth ore their graue stones grow,
On marriage their minds did neuer set,
Because they meant not children to beget,
And so be forc't that little to disseauer,
Which scarce would serue, when twas vnite together
That which in strength of youth they did refuse,
Now growne in yeares most shamefully they chuse,
Shewing themselues to be so base of mind,
That euen in Borish villages they find:
And in the Kitchins greasie scullerie,
[Page 52] With whom to sport themselues lasciuiously,
Boyes are begot, which as in yeares they grow,
Such abiect vile behauiours from them flow,
That they are forc't to marry them perforce,
Vnto Clownes daughters, or to creatures worse,
Euen to crackt Chambermaids broke vp of late,
Because they would not haue their sons in state
Of bastardy, and here hence doth proceed,
That noblest houses in Ferara bleed,
With wounds of tainted honour and with shame,
As all eies do behold which view the same.
This is the cause the worthies of this towne,
Are seldome seene to flourish in renowne
Of vertue, or of valour, or of arts,
And hence it is their auncestors best parts,
I meane those of the worthy mothers side,
Are of their generous qualities so wide.
My Lord, to marry you do passing well,
And yet attend these precepts I shall tell.
First thinke thereof, lest when you would retire,
You cannot, being slau'd vnto desire:
This Poet giueth his friend better counsaile then hee himselfe could follow, for although he would neuer marry, yet is he noted to haue kept at his owne pro­per charges one Alexandra, a proper wo­man a long time, although his friend say that he was married vnto her priuily, and durst not bee knowne of it, for feare of loosing some s [...]all spirituall liuings which he had, and which were not lawfull for any maried man to enjoy.
In this important matter, most, most great,
Although my counsaile you do not intreat.
Yet I will shew you how a wife to chuse,
And which mongst women wisemen should refuse:
But you perhaps, will wondring smile at me,
And place it with impossibility,
That I this waighty charge should vndertake,
Yet neuer knew what meant the married state.
I pray you tell me; hath not your Lordship seene,
When as two gamsters haue at tables beene:
The third man which (as lookers on) stood by,
More to haue seene in play then they could spy:
If you do find I shoot nere to the white,
Follow my rules and hold my iudgment right:
But if you see I roue far off and wide,
[Page 53] Then both my counsailes and my selfe deride:
And yet before I further doe proceede,
Tis meete, that first this caution I doe reede.
If you to take a wife haue strong pretence,
Yet build your ground on naught but lustfull sence,
Twere madnes to perswade you from her loue,
Though reasons gainst her honor I could proue.
If she doe please you, then she vertuous is,
Nor any gift of goodnes can she misse:
No Rhethorick, reason, nor no strength of wit,
Can make thee loath when lust rules appetit:
So much thou art besotted on her face,
That reason must to pleasure yeeld her place.
I for a wilfull blinde man am no guide,
But if in lists of wisedome thou wilt bide,
Then scholler-like examine what I say,
And I shall merit thankes another day.
Who so thou art that meanst a wife to take,
(If of thine honor thou account dost make)
Learne what her mother is, that step begin,
And how her sisters liue, how free from sinne:
If we in horses, kine, and such like creatures,
Desire to know their lineall race and natures,
What ought wee then to doe in these, who are
Then other cattell, more deceitfull farre?
A Hare you neuer saw bring forth a Hart,
Nor doe from Doues nests Eglats euer part.
Euen so a mother that is infamous,
Hardly can beare a daughter vertuous.
From trotting races, amblers seldome breede,
From selfe like natures, selfe like things proceede.
Besides the branch is like vnto the tree,
And children keepe what first they learned be.
"Ill education spoileth maners good,
"Corrupts best natures, and infects the blood.
"Home-bred examples and domestick illes,
[Page 54] Grafts errors in cleannest brests, & good thoughts kils.
If she perceiues her mother to possesse,
Many saire seruants she will haue no lesse:
Nay she will more haue, or her better skill,
Shall leaue to be the agent of her will:
And this she doth to show in courtlinesse,
That (then her mother) she is nothing lesse,
And that heauen did with equall bountie place,
Within them both one beautie and one grace,
To know her nurse, and how her life she leades,
What her commercements are, and how she treades:
Whether her father brought her vp or no,
If she can play the cooke, weaue, worke or sowe,
Here Ariosto is a little mali­tious against the court for many gentle­woman, yea & those sort are as well brought vp, & as vertu­ously giuen, li­uing in the court, as if they had all the daies of their youth beene trained & [...] vp in their fathers owne houses, mu­sique and a sweete voice, being two as commendable qualities as can adorne any La­dy, only the li­bertie of courts to diseased minds, is the ground to these inuentions.
Orifinidle courts she haue remaind,
And there in song and musique hath beene traind.
To iudge the better of her vertues this,
And all the rest to know, most needefull is.
Seeke not a wife whose stile and noblenesse
Shall fill thy veines with much vaingloriousnes:
Such oft their husbands vnto wrath prouoke,
Whilst they to him are nothing else but smoke.
Tis good to match with one thats nobly borne,
So she her husbands birth hold not in scorne.
Such one take thou great Lord as fit shall be,
Both for thy liuing and thy pedigre:
For hardly thou thy better shalt content,
Vnlesse on her dependance much be spent.
A brace of pages, seruing gentlemen,
And for her state a flock of gentlewomen,
To keepe their Lady from all faults offence,
Without the which there is no patience.
Nor so content, a dwarse she needes must haue,
A foole, a pandor, and a iesting knaue,
VVith dogs and munkies, parrets and such toies,
Whose idle seruice, idle time destroies:
VVith other company for cards and dice,
[Page 55] Whose wits can sort with courtiers that are nice;
Nor when she takes the aire, wil she forth tread,
Without her rich caroche well furnished.
But this last charge is nothing to that cost,
Must on more priuate toies be vainly lost.
Now if thou no such prodigall fond part,
(Who for of birth and liuing chiefe thou art
Within thy natiue home) shalt proue, then know,
The poorer sort such glories dare not show.
If hackneymen doe round about the towne,
Run for to let their coach horse vp and downe,
What then will he doe? who at his command
Hath of his owne, which euer ready stand?
If others two horse keepe, the rich will still
Haue foure at least, yet thinke the draught but ill.
With such an one thou shalt possesse more care,
Meaning that [...] wife will make a mā [...] Oriando became through the vn [...]nes of Angelica.
Then mine Or [...]do in his madnes bare.
Here the Po­et setteth downe many excellent rules how a man should choose a wife, and ha­uing chosen one, how he should b [...]haue himselfe to­wards her.
If she shall braule with thee malitiously,
Gouerne with patience her extremitie,
And as Vlysses gainst the Sirens song,
Made himselfe deafe to shelter him from wrong,
So her expostulatings doe not heare,
But gainst such clamarous noise glew vp thine eare.
"When she speaks most do thou least speach afford,
"For silence cuts a shrow worse then a sword.
"A froward wife for very spight will cry,
"When thy neglect doth scorne her tyrannie.
Haue special care that with no foule-mouthd speach,
Thou mak'st into her fury any breach:
For then thou all confound'st, and one small showre,
Will on thy head a world of newe stormes powre,
Which with such bitterne [...]e she will declare,
That stings of wasps not halfe so noisome are.
Let her as neare as [...] or wit can finde,
Agree with euery humor in thy minde,
That ancient customes in thy house remaine.
[Page 56] And that no danger lurke within her traine,
In being greater then thou canst support,
For things doe fall to ruine in that sort.
I doe not like that beautie whose rare merit
Will praise beyond all excellence inherite
Nor such a one whose court audacitie,
Beares her beyond all comely modestie.
Twixt faire and foule there is a golden meane,
Vnto which path I faine would haue you leane.
A louing maide, not louely striue to chuse
The faces beautie; for the mindes refuse.
Please thy best iudgement, tis no matter then,
Though she seeme foule or black to other men.
m Her to possesse whose beautie doth exceede,
Doth to all curious eies much sorrowe breede:
For she euen frozen harts doth set on fire,
Making them languish in vnchaste desire.
A world will venture her faire forte to spoile,
Wherein albe she giue some fewe the foile:
Yet at the last comes one with bribes and praies,
Who so in peeces all her forces teares,
That at the last hauing no more delay,
She yeelds, and he her honor beares away.
A wife thats more then faire is like a stale,
Or chanting whistle which brings birds to thrall.
n Yet of no sluttish foulenes fix thy minde,
[Page 57]
[...] Theres no ill qualitie so vile in a woman, as to be a foole, for I haue oft heard a wise man say, he had rather haue a willy wantō, a witty shrow, or a foule slut to his wife, then one that was so [...] or foo­lish, affirming that the first if she did a fault would with discretion hide it. The se­cond with her wit would now and then de­light him. The third because of her deformi­tie, studie and indeuor al­waies to please him, but the last which was the foole, wold shame both her selfe, her husband and her friends.
For so perpetuall penance thou shalt finde.
Beauties which are indifferent most me moue,
Faire which is still most faire I doe not loue.
Pure of complexion let her be and good,
And in her cheekes faire circled crimson blood.
Hie coulors argue choler and distaste,
And such hot blouds are seldome made to waste.
Let her be milde and wittie, but not curst,
Nor foolish, for of all breedes thats the worst.
None so deformed are, or vgly foule,
As fooles which more are gazd at then the Owle:
For if she any fault abroad commit,
Her long to [...]gd gossip straight must know ofit:
Nothing so pr [...]ate can be done or said,
Which through the whole world shall not bee con­uaid.
Thus she her husband and her selfe doth bring,
To be a scorne to euery abiect thing:
Where as the wittie wench so careful is,
There's none shall know albe she doe amisse.
Like to the Cat who buries vnder ground
Her ordure, le [...]t by men it should be found.
Let her be pleasing, full of curtesie,
Lowly of minde, prides deadly enemie:
Pleasant of speech, seldome sad or neuer,
And let her countnance cheareful be for euer,
A viniger tart looke or clowdy brow,
Furroud with wrinckles I doe not allow,
And so to pout or lowre through sullennesse,
Is a strong signe of dogged peeuishnesse.
Let her be bashfull and of modest grace,
Heare, but not answere for thee, wherein place
Thou art: for tis extreamest oblo quie,
When she doth prate and thou must silent be,
No idle huswife let her euer be,
[Page 58] But alwaies doing some thing seriously.
Sluttishnes in women was so much detested with the anti­ent Romans, that one of the cheefe noble men of the ci­tie put his wife f [...]om him by diuorce, as if she had beene incontinent & vnchaste of her bodie, yea only for that fault.
Let her well loued selfe, her selfe preserue,
And from all goatish sents he skinne conserue.
Women doe oft like golden tombes apeare,
Worthy without when naught within is faire.
Some ten or twelue yeares yonger then thou art,
Elect thy wife, for thats a wise mans part:
Because a womans glories euer faile,
Long ere the mans strength doe begin to quaile,
And so within thine eie wil breede dislike,
Ere mutuall yeares thee in like weaknesse strike,
Therefore I wish the husbands age should be
Thirty at least, for then th'impaciency
Of youthfull heate beginneth to asswage,
And with more moderation rules his rage.
Let her be such a one as feareth God,
Lest she aproue the sting of heauens rod,
Religious, not scrupulous, and boue all,
Let her know none whom puritans we call:
To run frō Church to Church through all the towne,
To weare a thin small ruffe, a bare black gowne,
To faigne to speake like chickins when they peepe,
Or leare like cats when they doe seeme to sleepe.
To make long praiers and goggle vp their eies,
As if their zeales would teare God from the skies.
To chide if any thing we say is good,
(Excepting God) as Prince or almes, or foode,
Christmas to name but Christ tide, as it were
Damnation, but the bare word masse to heare,
To speake to none that walketh in the streete,
Or with these words God saue you, any greete:
Not to looke vp, but fix on earth the eie,
Aparant signes are of hypocrisie.
God pleased is with plainnesse of the hart,
And not with dumb shoes of the outward part,
Such as her life, such her religion is,
[Page 59] Where arts and words agree not, al's amisse.
Many good gentlewomen especially old widowes are a­bused by coun­terfeit Priers in Italie, they ma­king a shewe of more holinesse then the rest of their coat, whē it is nothing els but meere kna­uerie and dissi­mulation.
I would not that acquaintance she should haue,
With a precission Fri [...] for hees a knaue,
They vnder colour of confession frame,
Mischiefe and many matrons doe defame,
Nor shall she feast them with delitious fare,
For they but counterfeits and cheaters are,
To widowes, wiues and maids they doe remaine,
Vild, as in haruest are great showers of raine.
These be such women as the Poet speaketh of, Meruit for­mosa videri, that is, she deserued with the paines she tooke, to seem handsom [...] though indeed she was not.
Let her owne beautie be her owne delight,
Without adulterate painting, read or white,
Nature hath fixt best colours to the face,
No art hath power to giue so sweete a grace.
Great paines to little purpose and much shame,
They spend, who to adorne their bodies frame,
Doe profitlesse consume whole daies away,
Let such a one not in thy fauour stay.
A golden time, a glorious world it was,
When women had no other looking glasse
Then the cleere fountaine, and no painting knew,
But what they from the simple sleikstone drewe.
Complexion now in euery place is sold,
And plaister wise daubd vpon yong and old.
Old iades must haue read bridles, and the hag,
Will not in toies behind the yongest lag.
An Italian gentleman, whose mistris face was like a painters table.
Knew Herculan but where those lips of his,
He layeth when his Lid [...]a he doth kisse.
He would disdaine and loath himselfe as much,
As if the loathsom'st ordure he did touch.
It is most true that the Iewes make the best colours, either Rosa or [...], as may be seene in Fa­mag [...]sta in Cyprus, and it is also credibly reported that they make it after this filthy maner as the Poet here setteth downe.
He knowes not, did he know it he would spewe,
That paintings made with [...] of a Iewe,
(For they the best fell) n [...] that loathsome smell,
(Though mixt with muske and amber nere so well,
Can they with all their cunning take away
[Page 60] The fleame and snot so ranke in it doth stay.
Little thinks he that with the filthy doung,
Of their small circumcised infants young,
The fat of hideous serpents, spaune of snakes,
Which slaues from out their poisonous bodies takes.
All which they doe preserue most curiously,
And mix them in one bodie cunningly,
Making that vnguent, which who buies to vse,
Buies hell withall, and heauen doth refuse.
Fie how my queasie stomack vp doth rise,
To thinke with what grose stuffe in beastly wife,
They make this hatefull vomit of the face,
With which fond women seeke themselues to grace,
Daubing their cheekes in darke holes with the same,
Lest the daies eie should tell the world their shame:
But knew men which doe kisse them, what I know,
They would so farre in detestation grow,
That ere they would touch maskes so foule as this,
Mensis profluuium they would gladly kisse.
Nay knew but women how they are abusd
By these plague salues (so generally vsd
Of them) and by those drugs where with they fill
Their closets, cabinets and cofers still:
They soone would finde their errours and confesse,
Tis they alone which makes them beautilesse.
Although this doctrine be as true as true may be, yet will not many gen­ [...]lewomen be­leeue it, but hold it to bee meere heresie and no truth.
This curious painting when they vndertake,
True natures beautie doth the cheeke forsake:
All that is excellent away is fled,
Hating to liue with hell being heauen bred.
Likewise those waters which they vse with care,
To make the pearle teeth orient and more fare,
Turnes them to rottennesse, or black like hell,
Whilst from their breaths doth issue forth a smell,
More noisome then the vilest iakes can yeeld,
Or carion that corrupts within the field.
Well, let thy wife to none of these sins cleaue,
[Page 61] But to the Court these rarer cunnings leaue.
3 Let her apparell be in comely fashion,
And not stragnized after euery nation.
Head-tires in shape like to a corronet,
With pearle, with stone, and Iewels richly set,
Befits a Princesle right; a veluet hood,
With golden border, for thy wife's as good.
The Loome, the Needle and fine Cookery,
Doth not disparage true gentility.
Nor shall it be amisse, if when thou art,
Within thy country home, thy wife impart,
Her huswifely condition, and suruay,
Her Dayrie and her milk-pans once a day.
The greatest states in these daies will respect
Their profits, when their honours they neglect.
The bring­ing vp of chil­dren in good sort, is one of the chiefest parts which be­longs to an honest wo [...] as the Poet saith in his Orlando Furio [...]
But her cheese care shall on thy Children be,
To bring them vp in each good quality.
And thus, if such a wife thou canst attaine,
I see no reason why thou shouldst refraine.
For say that afterward her mind should change,
And from corrupter thoughts desire to range:
Or that she seckes to scandalize her house,
With blacke disdaine, or shame most impious,
When in her haruest yeares thou comst to mow,
And findst where corne was, nought but weeds dohgrow:
Yet thou thy selfe as faulty, [...]nst not blame,
But spitefull Fate, the author of defame:
And that her infancie was misgouerned,
And not in vertue truly nurtered.
Thou canst but sorry be for her offence,
When want of grace doth draw on impudence.
But he that like a blind man doth run on,
[Page 62] And takes the first his fortunes fall vpon,
Or he that worse doth (as doth basest he)
Who though he know her most vnchast to be:
Yet he will haue her in dispight of all,
Euen though the world him hatefull Wittall call.
If after sad repentance him importune,
Let him accuse himselfe for his misfortune:
Nor let him thinke any will moane his case,
Since his owne folly bred his owne disgrace.
But now since I haue taught thee how to get,
Thy best of choice, and thee on horse-backe set.
Ile learne thee how to ride her: wild or tame,
To curb her when, and when to raine the same:
No sooner thou shalt take to thee a wife,
But thou shalt leaue the old haunts of thy life,
Keep thine owne nest, lest some strange bird lie hid,
And do by thee as thou by others did.
Good coun­saile to all such yong men who haue long war­ [...]d themselues by other mens fires.
Like a true Turtle with thine owne doue stay,
Else others t'wixt thy sheetes may falsly play.
Esteeme her deare, and loue her as thy life,
No matchlesse tr [...]sure like a loyall wife.
If thou wilt haue her like and honour thee,
First let her thine affections amply see:
What she doth for thee, kindly that respect,
And shew how thy loue doth her loue affect.
If by omission she do ought amisse,
In any thing that gainst thy nature is:
With loue and not with fury let her know,
Her errours ground, for thence amendments grow.
A gentle hand, A Colt doth sooner [...]ame
Then chaines or fetters which do make him lame.
Spaniels with stroking we doe gentle find,
Sooner then when they coopled are or pinde.
These kind of cattell gentler then the rest,
Without the vse of rigor do the best.
Good natures by good vsage best do proue,
[Page 63] Disdaine breedes hate, tis loue ingenders loue,
But that like asses they should beaten be,
Neither with sense nor reason doth agree:
For where loues art auailes not, there I feare,
Stroakes will more bootlesse and more vile appeare.
Many will boast what wonders they haue wrought
By blowes, and how their wishes they haue cau [...].
How they haue tam'd their shrewes & puld them downe,
Making them vaile euen to the smallest frowne.
But let those Gyants which such boastings loue,
Tell me what they haue got and it will proue,
Their wiues their blowes, on hands & face do beare,
And they their wiues marks on their foreheads weare.
These brag­gants are like that honest man whose wife hauing broke his pate, and he wearing a nightcap, being asked why hee ware it, answe­red that his wife falling on the sud­daine ficke, hee tooke such thought for the same, that hee became him­selfe ill also, & so was glad to excuse the mat­ter.
Besides who least a wicked wife can tame,
Doth oftest brag that he can do the same.
Remember she is neighbour to thy heart,
And not thy slaue, she is thy better part.
Thinke tis enough that her thou maist command,
And that she doth in loue-knots loyall stand:
Although thy power thou neuer do approue,
[...] thats the way to make her leaue to loue.
Giue her all wishes whilest she doth desire,
Nothing but that which reason doth acquire.
And when thou hast confirmd thee in her loue,
Preserue it safe, let nothing it remoue.
And yet to suffer her, do all she will,
Without thy knowledge, may much vertue kill.
So likwise to instruct without all reason,
To perfit loue is more then open treason.
To go to feasts and weddings mongst the best,
Is not amisse: for there suspect is least.
Nor is it meet, that she the Church refraine,
Sith there is vertue, and her noble traine.
In publike markets and in company,
Is neuer found adulterous villany.
But in thy gossips or thy neighbours house,
[Page 64] And therefore hold such places dangerous.
By this trick Ariosto sheweth himselfe to be a right Italian: for so do many Italians vse to dog their wiues when they goe abroad, the poore women not thinking that their hus­bands do watch them as they doe.
Yet as deuotion to the Church her leades,
Thou shalt do well to marke which way she treades:
For often times the goodly pray is still
The cause why men do steale against their will.
Chiefly take heed, what consort she liues in,
Beware of Wolues that weare the Weathers skin.
Marke what resort within thy house doth moue,
Many kisse children for the nurses loue.
There was in a certaine Vni­uersitie either heere or else where a certain Malt man, who hauing a very sweet & louely browne woman to his wife, many Gentle­men Students and others, would be his kinsmen, in so much that a familiar of his deman­ded one day of him merrily, which way it came that so many gallants were allied vnto him: who replied laughing (like a good companion) by my truth sir I know not, except this kin­dred come by my wiues side: for before I was married vnto her, there was not one scholler in this Vniuersitie that was acquainted with me. This fellow though he was plaine, yet had hee a shrewd pate, and altough hee[?] said little, yet did hee thinke more, and many drie blowes he would giue these lusty youthes which resort vnto his house, whereof I will giue yoy a taste and so away: One day a gentleman of a good house came to visite him (or rather if I should say truely his wife) who meeting him at his dore saluted him, calling him kinseman, and withall asked how his cosen his wife did, saying hee would bee so bold as to goe in and see her. I pray[?] you do, said the goodman, and yet before you goe a word with you. With all my heart, replide the scholler: then said the malt-man, since I came acquainted with you and other kinde gentlemen my kinred, I haue learnt two Latine verses, and I would know the meaning of them. Let me heare them said the yong student: that you shall said the townes­man, and these be they.
Tuta frequensque via[?] est, per amici fallere nomen:
Tuta frequensque licèt sit via, crimen habet.
Now, said he, I pray you tell me them in English, I am not so good a scholler at the first sight to explaine them, replied the studdent. Then I am said the married man, and this it is:
Friendship with greatest safetie doth deceaue,
And yet though safe, tis knauish by your leaue.
Hereupon hee fell a laughing, saying, I thinke I haue now paid you home[?], and so away hee[?] went, leauing the student to goe visit his wife.
Some for thy wiues sake much will honour thee;
Doe not with such men hold society.
When shee's abroad, thy feare is of small worth,
The danger's in the house when thou art forth.
Yet wisely watch her, lest she doe espy
Thy politicke and waking iealousie.
[Page 65] Which if she do, then is her reason strong,
Thee to accuse, that dost her causlesse wrong.
Remoue all causes what so ere they be,
Which to her name may coople infamy.
And if she needes will cast away all shame,
Yet let the world know thou art not to blame.
I know no other rules to set thee downe,
How thou maiest keep vnstaind thy wiues renowne.
Nor how thou maist keep men from hauing power,
Thy wiues chast honours basely to deuoure.
Many hold of opinion that to be a cuckold is destiny and not their wiues dishonesties, as a good fellow in the world said to a friend of his, who telling him hee was so­ry that so ho­nest a man as he should be a­bused as hee was, seeing the fault was his wiues and not his. I thanke you neighbour (replied he) for your good con­ceit of me: but I assure you I thinke it was not her fault, but rather mine owne fortune that made me a cuckold: for I verily beleeue whosoere I had married would haue bin n [...]ught as wel as she. Nay then (quoth his neighbor) if you thinke so, God forbid I should disswade you from an opinion you hold so confidently, and so left him.
And yet Ile tell thee this, if she haue will
To tread awry, thou must not thinke through skill
To mend her, for she is past all recure,
And what she will do thou must needes indure.
Doe what thou canst by art or obseruation,
She will create thee of a forked fashion.
All's one if thou do vse her ill or well,
When women are resolu'd spight heauen or hell
They will strike saile, and with lasciuious breath,
Bid all men welcome though it be their death.
And for you shall not iustly thinke I lie,
Lend but your eare to this true history.
There was a Painter whom I cannnot name,
A tale.
That vsed much to picture out the Diuell,
With face and eies fit for a louely dame:
Nor clouen feet, nor hornes, nor any euill,
So faire he made him, and so formally,
As whitest snow, or purest Iuory.
The diuell who thought it very great disgrace,
The Painter should orecome in curtesie:
Appear'd vnto him face to face,
Declared what he was in breuity:
[Page 66] And that he came but onely to requite,
His paines in painting him so faire and white.
And therefore wild him aske what so he would,
Asluring him to haue his whole request.
The wretch who had a wife of heauenly mould,
Whose beautie brought his iealous braines vnrest:
Intreated for the ending of that strife,
Some meanes to be assured of his wife.
Then seem'd the diuell to take a goodly ring,
An put it on his finger, saying this;
So long as thou shalt weare this pretty thing,
Thou maiest be sure she cannot doe amisse.
But if thou vse to leaue this ring vnworne,
Nor man nor diuell can keep thee from the horne.
Glad was this man, and with his gladnesse waked,
But scarce had he opened both his eies,
Before he felt his wife starke belly naked:
And found his finger hid betweene her thighes.
Remembring then his dreame how it concluded,
He thought the Diuell had him in sleep deluded.
And yet not so (quoth he) for it is tr [...]e
If so we meane our wiues shall be no flingers,
There is no such deuise, nor old nor n [...]w,
As still to weare such rings vpon our fingers:
For else though all our haires were watchful eies,
We should not see their subtill treacheries.
Nor can this policy scarce vs auaile,
For if she meaneth Cha [...]cers iest to trie,
She to another will her loue entaile,
Although she knew she for the same should die.
[Page 67]
Antonie Siluis[?] a noble man of Venice, hauing a maruellous faire woman vnto his wife, and being sent embassador in­to Germany vn­to the Empe­rour thē liuing, the Signori of Venice, was so iealous ouer her, as hee de­uised a most wonderfull, strange and ar­tificiall locke & key per la Fico[?] sua, which the good Lady took vnkind­ly (being mis­trusted without cause) that he no sooner was gone onward on his iourney, but that she by the counsel & perswasion of her amorous seruant (assisted by the cunning deuise of a most inge­nious & excellent workman, a Dutchman) got a false key for the lock, & so enioyed her louing friend all the absence of her husband, who returning home againe neuer perceiued the fraude But after the death of this Lady, the knowledge wherof cōming to the Signori of Venice, they for the strangenes of the matter, caused the lock & chain to be amōgst their other chiefe mo­numēts in Graund Sala in S. Marks palace, it is made of siluer plate, very thin, & in proportiō not much vnlike a horse-shoe, with small little holes in the midst, and is as smooth at the one end as at the other, hauing two little small chaines which came round about her middle, and were shut close on each side with a lock, it is at this day with other antiquities to be seen there.
The slie Venetian lockt his Ladies ware,
Yet through her wit Acteons badge he bare.
My Lord, few married men do liue content,
Their wiues as crosses vnto them are sent:
So must I say the single life is ill,
Sith in the same dwels many troubles still.
The Poet compareth marriage to Purgatory, whereas they say they continue in paine but for a certaine time. But the Batchellors life he termeth hell, because in respect of the comforts in marriage, it may be termed a hellish life, or else he termeth the batchellors life hell, because he thinks that none perhaps liue honest vntil they be married: & therefore in the greater dan­ger if they die not maides.
Yet better tis in purgatorie dwell
A little space, then alwaies liue in hell.
What my best strength of reasons are you see,
And therefore your owne caruer you may be.
Our Poet here is very merry with his kinseman, especially being an Italian, who of all sports cannot abide any iest that sauoreth of the horn, for if he say

No doubt,

Ioco di ma [...], Ioco di villano[?]
Pigliata[?] nell [...]ran scorno
Il Ioco dello corno.
But in the end he maketh him amends[?], wishing him as good a wife as good may be, euen the best amongst women.
T'is all but one resolue, who ere is borne
To marry, likewise must possesse the horne.
Yet I but merrily do write and iest,
The married mans estate of all is best:
And they who cannot chastly lead their li [...]es,
May in the world find many worthy wiues.
One of the best of which I wish to you,
One that is louing, loyall, wise and true.

The fift Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

Hee sheweth by occasion of a certaine kinde of go­uernment or Liuetenancie ouer a country which the Duke of Ferrara bestowed vpō him, hor [...] vn­fit he was for any thing but onely for the Muses. And that to be a louer is the greatest fault and greatest absurdity that anyman can commit.

THis day hath fully sum'd an euen yeare,
To Master Si­gismond Mala­g [...]zzo.
Since hither first I made my sad repaire:
(Leauing Ferrara, where I first drew breath,
By endlesse toile to hasten speedy death).
Two riuers so called, not farre from the Apenine moū ­taines.
Hither where swift T [...]rrita, Serchio meetes,
Betwixt two bridges whence their billowes fleetes.
Making continuall noise through diuers springs,
Which their owne flowing waters to them brings.
To gouerne as the Duke did me assigne,
A little town vpon the bor­ders of the Dukedome of Ferrara, & in these daies somewhat dan­gerous by rea­son of the woods and mountaines there abouts, where a number of Bandity kept.
His poore distressed flocke of Graffanine,
Leo the 10. was no sooner dead but Alphonso Duke of Ferrara, entred into the field with an hundred men at armes, two thousand foot, & three hundred light horsemen, & so went to in­campe before Cento, after he had recouered by the will of the Italians Bondena, Finale, the mountaine of Moden [...], and Gra [...]gnana, and other townes about Romagnia which Leo had taken from him, although he challenged them to be his.
Which crau'd his aid asloone as Leo died,
Because the Romish yoke they would not bide.
Euen Leo who with much sterne crueltie,
[Page 69] Had brought them to the gate of miserie,
And worse had done, but that the mightie hand
Of heauen, did all his tyrannies with stand.
And this the first time is in all this while,
That euer I did write or ought compile:
Or to the learned Muses haue made sute,
But dumbly liued, tong-tide and sadly mute,
The strangenesse of this place hath so dismaid me,
That like a fearefull bird I durst not play me,
Who hauing changd her cage, flutters her wing,
And through amazement scard, doth feare to sing.
(Kinde kinsman) that my case is in this sorte,
And that from me thou hast not heard reporte.
Wonder thou not, but rather doe admire,
That in this space my breath did not expire,
Seeing I am an exild man, at least,
An hundred miles from that I fancie best,
Since riuers, rocks, and mountaines boue the skies,
Ariosto had no fault, but onely that he loued Venerie, which was a veniall sinne a­mongst the Ita­lians.
Keepes me from her is dearer then mine eies.
All other businesses which me concerne.
I can excuse, and from mine ease doe learne,
To make my friends conceiue in generall,
That all my greatest faults are veniall.
But to thy selfe I will in plaine phrase speake,
And all mine inward cogitations breake.
To thee Ile shriue my selfe, for thou shalt know,
Both how my wisedome and my follies growe,
Where as to others should I so much tell,
My folly would be made my passing bell,
To ring my death of wit, whilst with sterne looke,
The world would hardly my confession brooke:
Saying no question he is mightie wise,
Which can see nothing, yet hath both his eies,
And is most fit to be a foole to other,
When his affects he can nor rule nor smother.
Fie to be fiftie yeares and yet to glowe,
[Page 70] As ifI did fully fifteene knowe,
And then he tels the scriptures strictest lawes,
Both scriu'ners ordages, and old mens sawes.
Well though I erre, I am not fully blinde,
But can my blouds fault in large measure finde:
And which is more, I doe condemne the same,
And not as others doe, defend my shame.
He is the ra­ther to be pit­tied in that he confesseth his fault, beeing sorrie for it, & willingly would he haue amen­ded it, but that he could not.
But what auai [...]es my penance, when nearelesse
I know my faults, yet make my faults no lesse,
Or since no precious Antidote I finde,
To heale the ranckling v [...]cer of my minde:
But thou art wiser, since when thou dost please,
Thou canst affectious sicknesses appease,
Which being hid in man, Nature doth mix,
And to mans inward soule the same doth fix.
This is the worst the world of me can say,
Whose ill perhaps may haue a worse display
Then it deserues, although some verball care
They haue of me, when great their sorrowes are,
(And would haue more) if I could this redresse,
And these my fleshly motions quite suppresse.
Those which in this world speake most curiously,
Close in their hearts the deepest iniurie.
Thou knowst I know the world hath many a slaue
That wil blaspheme, sweare, curse, be mad and raue,
Accusing others that they cuckolds be,
When his weake iudgement hath no power to see,
How goodly, large and spreading is that horne,
Which his owne forehead many yeares hath borne:
Other diseases euery one can spie,
But none will mend his owne deformity.
We can reproue in strangers whats amisse,
And see not in our selues what vilder is,
We take delight that we can reprehend,
When t'were mo [...] generous our selues to mend.
The wallet which behind hangs with sins store,
[Page 71] We neuer see, our eies are both before.
I neither kill, nor strike, nor doe contend,
Nor am I hurtfull, but the whole worlds frend,
The worst I doe, is that I onely grieue,
Because I cannot with my mistres liue,
And thinke it torment more then torments be,
To liue from her which onely liues in me,
And yet I not forget t'acknowledge this,
That herein onely I doe still amisse:
Yet not so ill but that by intercession
I may be pardond through mine owne confession.
The vulgar sort with water oftentimes,
(Not onely greater faults then my small crimes)
Wash cleane away, but (which breeds greater shame
Baptiseth vice with noble vertues name.
By Hermilian Rainard and o­thers, hee shew­eth how many in the world commit grosse [...] faults by farre then he did, & yet what they doe passeth for currant, and are not con­demned of the worlde.
Hermilian that is growne so couetous,
(As to behold the same tis monstrous)
Nor rests by day nor slumbers in the night,
But makes his gold his God and his delight,
No loue of friend or brother wil he hold,
Hates his owne selfe, loues nothing but his gold,
Yet is esteemd a man of industry,
Of perfit wisedome and great policie.
Rainard swels big and doth disdaine his state,
Lookes as the world would tremble at his hate.
He thinks himselfe what he can neuer be,
And feeds his hopes with idle imagery,
He will surpasse in spending ill got wealth,
And in apparel goes beyond him selfe.
A steward he will haue, a huntsman, faulkoner,
A cooke, a chamberlaine, and a curious caruer.
Lordships he sels, and makes them fly away,
A mannor or a parke goes euery day.
What his old auncestry had many yeares
Gathered together, and left vnto their heires,
That with immoderate lauishnes he spends,
[Page 72] And through the world in all disorders sends.
But what for this? none murmures at his will,
Nor doth demaund why he consumes thus ill:
But rather cals him most Magnanimus,
Most bountifull, gallant and vertuous.
The common sort the Hydra multitude,
Thus with their flattery doe him delude.
Solonio so much businesse takes in hand,
And meddles so with all things in the land,
That euen the waight is able to confound
The strongest horse that euer trod on ground.
Within the custome house he hath a charge,
And in the Chancery, a pattent large,
To Ports and Keies immediately he flies,
Where both his profit and commandment lies.
One of the strongest and richest places in Rome be­longing to the Pope, which Pope Clement the eight be­stowed vpon his nephew Don Pietro, it being worth better then 12000 crownes by the yeere.
To Castell Angelo then will he scower,
And all this done in minute of an howre,
The very quintescense of all his braines,
He doth distill to bring the Pope newe gaines,
Nor doth his cares or painful studies end
To any thing saue profit onely tend,
It ioyes his hart when he heares Rumor say,
That with his toiles he wastes his life away,
And so that to his Lord he crownes may bring,
He nor respects acquaintance, friend nor kinne.
The people hate him, and they haue good cause,
Since it is true, tis he which onely drawes
The Pope to plague the Citie, and still lades
Her with newe customes, taxes and intrudes.
Yet a Magnifico this fellow is,
High stated and can nothing doe amisse.
Whilst like to peassants noblemen not dare
To come to him and their great suits declare:
But they must cap and crouch and bare head stand,
As if he were the Monarch of the land.
Laurino takes vpon him (of pure zeale)
[Page 73] In vpright iustice, chiefe affaires to deale,
His country heele defend through his desarts,
Whilst publike good to priuate he conuarts,
Three he exiles, but six to death he sends,
Begins a Fox but like a Lion ends.
From tyrannie his strength he doth create,
Whilst gifts and bribes doe euen dam vp his gate:
The wicked he doth raise, the good keepes downe,
And yet this man is rich in all renowne,
He is renound to be both iust and good,
When he is full of whordome, theft and blood:
Where he should honour giue, he giues disgrace,
Malice with pride, & pride with wealth doth place,
Whom he should most releeue, he most offends,
His ope-eied sustice, loues none but his friends,
Crowes oft for Swans & Swans he takes for Crowes,
Now knewe this Iustice but my loue-sick woes,
VVhat sower faces from him would apeare,
Like him that on a close-stoole straining were.
VVell let him speake his pleasure with the rest,
I care not for their speeches, thats the best,
Only thee which art mine onely frend,
I doe confesse my pleasures are at end,
Since I first hither (gainst my wil) was tost,
My ioyes are gone and my delights are lost.
This of my reasons I haue chiefest tride,
Though others more I could alledge beside,
VVhy I haue left Pernassus learned mount,
Nor with the Muses talkt as I was wont,
Then when with thee in Reggio I did stay,
(My natiue soile) and past the time away,
In all best Iouiall sollace and delight,
Priding my selfe in waightie verse to write,
Those glorious places did me ample good,
Reuiu'd my spirits and inflam'd my blood.
[Page 74]
He discri­beth a maruai­lous dainty bā ­queting house in Reggio, be­loaging to the Mallaguzzi, & called so be­cause it is built after the maner of the buil­dings in Bar­bary, full of great & wide windowes for coolenes in sommer, and beautified with many excellent and admirable pictures, & sta­tues of great price & worth.
Thy Mauritanian lodge for banqueting,
Withall the worthiest pictures flourishing,
And call my Rodan [...] not farre from thence,
Of water nimphes the choisest residence,
Thy christall fishponds, and thy garden, which
A siluer spring with moisture doth inrich,
Watring by Aite those checkerd flowers still,
And in the end fals downe into a Mill.
O how I wish for that and for the rest,
Which whilst I did enioy my sense was blest.
Nor can my memorie forgoe the thought,
Of those braue vines from fertill Luco brought;
Those valleies, nor those hils, nor that high Tower
Can I forget, where I haue many an hower
Reposd, and searcht out euery shadowie place,
The Fresco coole I loued to imbrace:
Whilst I one booke or other would translate,
Which forraine Authors did communicate.
O then I youthfull was and in my prime,
My yeeres euen April, or the springs best time,
Which now are like October somewhat colde:
For I begin, and shall ere long be olde.
But neither can the fountaine Hellicon,
Nor Ascras valleies, no nor any one
Be of the power to make my verses sing,
Vnlesse my hart be free from sorrowing:
Which being so, then this place where I dwell,
Is not for study, sith it is my hell,
When here no pleasure is, nor any ioy,
More then dissention, horror and anoy.
This soile I barraine and vnwholsome finde,
Subiect to stormes, to tempests and to winde.
One part is hillie, th'other lowe and plaine,
VVherein there doth no pleasantnes remaine.
The place wherein I liue is like a cell,
[Page 75] Deepe and descending downeward as to hell.
From hence theirs none can come at any time,
Vnlesse he passe the Riuer Appenine.
I tell thee gentle Cuz, ill is my taking,
Since thus of all my friends I am forsaken.
For stay I in my house or to the aire,
Seeke to disburthen some parte of my care
Nothing I heare but spightfull accusations,
Brawle brabbles or more shamefull acclamations,
Murthers and thefts and such like villanie,
To which I must attend most patiently.
This is the cause s [...]one while am compeld
VVith mildest reasons to make some men yield,
Others to threaten, and by force to drawe,
Others to punish by strict penall lawe,
Some I absolue, to some I pardon giue,
In hope hereafter they will better liue.
Then to the Duke I straight doe packets write,
For counsaile or for soldiers which must fight,
Leo the Pope vsed the people of this country so hardly, that they tooke vp armes amongst themselues and became rebels.
To th'end those outlawes which about me stay,
May or be slaine, or driuen quite away:
For one thing I must let thee vnderstand,
That in most wretched state abides this land.
Some think by the Panther he meant Iulius the second, not long before Pope, and by the Lyon Les the tenth.
Since the wilde Panther first, the Ly on then,
Did in this wofull country make their den.
So many lurking theeues doe here abide,
And in such numbers flock on euerie side,
As not the best commanders which we haue,
(VVhose charge is to pursue them to the graue:
Dares with his ensignes spread their strengths inuade
Such proofes the slaues haue of their valors made:
So that he wisest is which safe doth stand,
And stirs not to take danger by the hand.
Stil I doe write, and write to him againe,
VVhom it concernes, but all my labours vaine:
For though he send (as reason is he should)
[Page 76] Yet he not sends that answere which I would,
Fourescore and three Ca­stels or small villages were there in all, which were ri­sen vp in armes by reason they were so mighti­ly oppressed by Pope Leo.
Each Castel armes (within it selfe) doth take,
And fourescore three in number they doe make
Of periur'd rebels, who malitiously
Spoile their owne country with hostilitie.
Iudge then if great Apollo when I call,
Wil come or shew himselfe to me at all,
Leauing his Cynthien or his Delphian shore,
To heare these brabbles which he doth abhorre,
Both he and all his sacred sisters nine,
To looke vpon such places doe repine:
But here thou maist demand of me the cause
VVhich me to this vexation headlong drawes,
Leauing my studie with obscure neglect,
And my deare mistresse without all respect.
O Cuz, thou know' [...] I neare was couetous,
Nor from ambition haue beene enuious.
VVith a poore pention I haue beene content,
VVhich in Ferrara got I there haue spent.
But thou perhaps this chance didst neuer know,
That when the warres began with vs to grow.
When Ario­sto first follow­ed the Duke of F [...]ara, hee of his own volun­tarie minde be­stowed a yeere­ly pension of him, but after­wards hauing waries with the Pope and the Venetians, both at one time, he withdrew his fo [...]mer li­b [...]tie, nor when they were ended did hee restore the same vnto him againe, which Ariost [...] tooke very vnkindly.
The Duke but slowly did my pension pay,
And at the last did take it quite away.
During the warres I grieu'd not to be barde
Of my best due, but when as afterward,
All things was quiet and the world at peace,
It troubled me to see my paiment cease.
Aliud ex [...]io malum, here is one [...] vpon an [...] [...]eck, he no sooner lost his pen [...]ō in F [...]rara, but his offi [...] [...] the Cardinal Hypolito had bestow­ed vpon him in Milla [...], was taken from him by reason of the ciuill warres in Italie also.
And so much more, since by ill boading fate,
I then had lost an office in the state.
In Millain, through this vnexspected warre,
Hoping in vaine, short time would end the iarre,
Horses doe sterue (they say) whilst grasse doth spring,
[Page 77] And I found he said true that so did sing.
At last vnto the Court I weary came,
And thus my suit vnto the Duke did frame [...]
My gratious Lord (said I) vouchsase some gaine
Vnto the elder merits of my paine.
Or suffer me that I may else pursue
My fortunes some where else, and not with you.
The Grass [...] at that time by chance,
Began themselues with courage to aduance,
This was the chiefe cap­taine of the re­bels, who did perswade his companions to leaue the Pope, and yeeld vnto the Duke of Ferrara, which vpon the con­ditions afore­said, they did-Whereupon the Duke sent Ari­osto th [...]her thither as gouernour (to make him a­mends for his late vnkindnes) where he beha­ued himselfe so w [...]sely, that he broug [...] the country into great [...], in such w [...]e as when he came from them hee left them in a maner in g [...]od peace and concord, although whilest he remained there, hee was much [...] and disquieted in mind.
Being perswaded by Marzoccus song,
To leaue the Pope who then had done them wrong.
And thereupon sent many embasies,
Vnto our Duke their mindes to specifie.
Th'effect was this, they humbly craue,
They might their auntient priuiledges haue.
With their old customes wherto hees content,
And they forthwith yeeld to his gouernment.
And hence it came out of some sodaine grace,
I chosen was to gouerne in that place.
Either because the time so short did grow,
That well he knew not where he might bestow
The office but on me, or for I best,
Might spared be as one of merit lost,
For which I count my selfe with humblenesse
Bound by this grace vnto his mightinesse.
It is his loue which bindes me to his grace,
For which I thanke him more then for this place.
Which though beyond my spirits it aspire,
Yet doth it not accord with my desire.
Now if about these rebels you demand,
What mine opinion is: it thus doth stand.
They rather did deserue seuerity,
Then any touch of gentle lenitie:
For when I do but call into my minde,
[Page 78] How periur'd and perfidious I them finde,
Although what ere I did was still to ease them,
Yet theres no doubt but I did still displease them.
They nor like me, nor I their country loue,
And therefore daily pray for my remoue.
In this I do resemble Aesops Cocke,
Who hauing found a pearle, the same did mocke.
A place I haue obtain'd of gaine and fame,
And yet (in sooth) I care not for the same.
As with the sea Venetian, so with me
A tale.
It fares, to whom a swift-foot barbarie,
(A gallant horse) was giuen by the king,
A Portugale for some great meriting,
Who for he would shew that he did accept,
His royall gift, and not the same reiect,
(Forgetfull how the difference to discerne,
T'ixt vse of bridles, and the the tall ships sterne,
Mounts on his back, and therewith taketh hold,
Vpon the pannell, like a horse-man bold,
That done he strikes his spurs into his side,
Saying softly to himselfe, for all thy pride,
Thou shalt not fling me downe do what thou can,
If the girths hold, Ile shew my selfe a man.
The fiery iade, feeling the wounding spurre,
Began to plunge, to bound and keep a sturre:
Which when the good old Sea-man felt, he more,
Drawes in his bridle then he did before:
And spurs him worse, both on the flankes and side,
Till with his bloud his riders heeles were dide.
The horse not vsed to be ridden so,
Nor can his riders doubtfull meaning know,
The bridle holding backe, and bidding stand,
The spurre to go on forward doth command.
But in the end, madly resolu'd thereon,
Flat on the ground he flings sir Pantalon.
Our great Magnifieo lies on his back,
[Page 79] And cries as he were torturd on a racke.
With thighes all sore, and shoulders out ofioint,
His head sore bruisde, his heart at deaths last point,
All pale with griefe and feare in piteous wise,
Be smeard with durt, at last he vp doth rise:
Right malecontented that he was so mad,
To deale in that where he no iudgement had.
Farre better had he done, and so had I,
He with his horse, I with this country,
T'haue said my Liege, or Lord, I am not fit
For this high place, nor do I merit it.
This bountie doth exceed what I deserue,
Let it some better worthes and not mine serue,
If either I or he had beene thus plaine,
I had had much more ease; he [...] paine.

The sixt Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

Hee sheweth what qualities a good Schoolemaster ought to haue, and how hardly any is found honest of that coat, and in the end setteth downe certaine grieuous losses which hee endured in his youth time.

BEmbo,
He wrot this Satyre before Bembo was Cardinal, who as I said before was Secretary to Leo the 10. who aduanced him to that de­gree,
I nothing couet or require,
(Though tis the carefull parents strong desire)
To M r. Peter Bembo.
Although he were neuer married yet had hee two sons by a very faire woman called Alessan­dra, wherof this Virginio whom he loued best was one. The other was called Gran Baptista, but the Lady to who [...] hee was d [...]ed [...], [...] called Geneu [...]a, a [...] hee himselfe confesseth in his seuenth Canzon or [...], where he doth figuratiuely set it downe in a most schollerlike manner.
So much as I might my Virginio see,
Rarely instructed in Philosophie,
Which who so hath he then is in request,
And may take vp his ranke amongst the best.
Now since I know that thou most learned art,
And of each liberall science holdst best part:
Euen from my best of loue, I humbly craue
That of this youth, some watchfull care thou haue
And yet I would not haue thee to conceiue,
That with thee any trouble I would leaue:
Or that I would thou shouldst his Pedant be,
To teach him Grammar rules industriously:
Tis not my mind: for I would haue thee know,
Better good manners doth within me grow,
Such men of worth as thou, and of thy place,
[Page 81] With these disparagements we do not disgrace:
Onely my meaning is that at thy leasure,
Thou wouldst vouchsafe to do me that hie plea­sure.
As to bethinke thee, if vnto this end,
Thou knowst in Venice any worthy friend,
Or else in Padoa mongst the learned throng,
Who speaks the Grecian & the Caldean tongue,
Skilfull in knowledge, iust in deed and word,
With whom he may haue learning, and his board.
If such a one thou knowst of worth and skill,
He shall (with reason) haue what ere he will:
Let him be learned, but especially
Looke that his life be fixt to honesty:
For if in vertue he do not surmount,
Of th'other qualities I make no accoun [...]
T'is easie to find learned, but we can
Hardly find out a learned honest man.
For in this age, who most of art doth braue,
Hath oft most vice (reading makes him a knaue)
This is a common speech in Italy when any hath cō ­mitted any notable or hor­rible sinne, they terme it Ironice, or a small Pecca­dillo of Spaine: which grew first from this occasi­on. A certaine Caualier of Spaine came to his Cō ­fessor to be shriuen of his [...], to whom the Frier giuing [...]are, he began to tel him that he had mightily offended in pride. His Ghostly father told him, that it was the root of all euill, and the chiefe presi­dent of al the other deadly finnes: but said hee, des­paire not, and beleeue faithfully, and thou mayest be forgiuen, and the rather because all Spaniards by nature are proud and sur­ly. Secondly he told him he was giuen to be very wrathfull and full of choller: and this, answered the Frier, is another deadly sin, and yet pardonable, in that you being a Souldier and a braue man at armes, ought not to pocket vp any indignitie or abuse: especially if it were to the disparagement of your honour. Thirdly he said, he was giuen to lust and lecherie: and that repl [...]d the Confessor, is a heauy finne: yet may proue to be light through grace, and may well bee forgiuen as ve­niall, because thou art a lusty young man, and in the prime of heat and youth, and no doubt but age will tame it in you. Fourthly he said he was giuen much to gluttony, & that (said his Ghostly father) may be pardoned, in that when you liue at home at your owne house, you liue with little, not surfeting in meat or drinke, as you doe when you are abroad. To con­clude, the spani [...]rd told the Frier, he was guilty of the other three sinnes, which were Sloth, Enuy and Couetousnesse: the more is the pitty (answered the Priest) yet for your slo [...]h, take more paines hereafter: In stead of being enuious, be louing & charitable: And for your coue­tousnesse, entertaine liberality & bounty, which will bring you soone to heauen, and so God forgiue you & I do. And hauing so said, he rose to go his way, when the Spaniard staying him with his hand, told him, he had one little thing more to tell him of. The Frier asked him what it was. He replied, that it was a matter of no moment, & a me [...]e [...]. Yet (quoth the other) cleare your conscience of all, now you haue begun. But said the Span [...]ard it is not worth the speaking of, it is nothing, Nados, nados, Peccadillos, peccadillos. The Frier hearing him make so small account of the same, & yet not willing to disclose it, was the more earnest with him to tel it. Whereupon on the suddaine, the Spaniard burst out into these words. Non credo in Deos: I do not beleeue in God. The Frier hearing him say so, blest himself with the signe of the crosse, as if he had bin some diuel, & away he got from him as fast as euer he could trudge. And euer since that time any famous or notorious villa [...]y, is termed Peccadillos di Spagna, by the con­trary.
Besides, the Peccadillos smal of Spaine,
[Page 82] They say he in his speeches doth maintaine.
Of Atheisme they him challenge and approue,
The faith Apostolike he doth not loue:
Nor of that Vnitie (admired most)
Betwixt the Father, Sonne and holy Ghost.
He cannot thinke how th'one from th'other goes,
Like diuers springs which frō one sountaine flowes.
Nor can he in his sense conceiue how one,
Should or be three, or that three still be one.
He rather thinketh that if hold he shall,
An argument quite opposite to all.
Contesting with all sacred verity,
Alledging for sound reason Sophistrie.
That then his wit is excellent and rare,
And his conceir beyond the best compare.
Making the world beleeue he climbs the aire,
And reaches to [...] sacred chaire.
Two famous Friers, the first of the order of S. August [...], the other of S. Francis, & now of late daies, Lupo Panigarola & Aqua penden­ [...]e haue beene counted very learned Prea­chers in the court of Rome, insomuch that the Pope would say Lupus monet, [...] sua [...], & Aquapendente [...]cet.
If Nicoletto preaching holy writ,
Or famous Martin with his learned wit:
Suspected be of infidelity,
Or if they chaunce to hold strong heresie:
Their too much knowledge, I accuse thereof,
Nor will I angry bethereat or scoffe,
Sith their ambitious spirits mounting hie,
To search Gods deep forbidden secresie.
No maruel t'is though they confounded are,
When they beyond their strengths will wade so far.
But thou whose study is humanity,
Wherein no such depth lies confusedly:
Whose subiects are the woods and shadowing hils,
Or chrystall springs whence water clens'd distils:
Whilest thou old martiall stories dost rehearse,
And blaze abroad in proud Heroicke verse:
Or with the rhetoricke of sweet words dostmoue,
And turnest harsh thought vnto pliant loue.
Or else with pleasing flattery too too base,
[Page 83] Princes dost praise when they deserue difgrace.
Tell me what thou in thy conceit dost find,
That thou with madnes shouldst perturb thy mind?
Or what doth with thy knowledge disagree,
That thou as others shouldst not honest be.
Many Itali­ans both men and women will chuse ra­ther to bee cal­led after the old Romans then as Chri­stians are, as Peter they will be called P [...] ­rio, for Iohn, Ia­no, for Luke, Lucio, for Mark, Marco & such like.
The name thou didst receiue when thou wert borne
Of Saint or of Apostle, thou dost scorne:
When they thy suerties do Christian make,
And so into th e holy Ch [...]ch do take,
In Cosnico or in Pomponio,
Thou changest Peter to Pierio,
Iohn into Iano or Iouinian:
Turning the cat Reureso in the pan,
As if the worse thou shouldst be for the name,
Or thou thereby shouldst purchase greater fame,
To be a better Poet, then ifseriously,
Thou plid'st thy booke with lesser vanity.
Such fooles as these are such as Plato did,
From euery ciuill common-wealth forbid.
By his graue discreet lawes, Since he well knew,
Nor good nor profit would from them accrew.
Yet Phoebus musicke nor Amphions art,
Shall not compare with these in any part.
Nor those which first did holy verse deuise,
Whose sacred tunes perswaded Angell wise,
Men for to liue with men, and to giue ore
To feed like beasts on achornes (as before)
Whilest in the woods and thickets wofully,
They sauage like did range confusedly.
Most true it is, such as were strongst of all,
(Whose lawless force the weakest did enthrall
Taking frō them their flocks, their food, their wiues,
And often times (without all cause) their liues)
At last became obedient to that law,
Which to be needfull for themselues they saw,
Whilest following plowes and [...]ling of the land,
[Page 84] They iustly got by labour of their hand,
And through the sweat which issued frō their paines,
The worthy haruest of their honest gaines.
Hence did the learn'd perswade the ignorant,
And simple people, who did iudgement want:
That Phoebus buil [...] vp [...]oy with musikes sound,
And Amphions harp rai [...]d [...] out of the ground:
That musicke could make mountaines to obay,
And stones to daunce about when they did play:
As Orpheus did, who with his holy song,
Lions and Tygers drew with him along.
Yet think not though gainst these of mine own coat,
I thus enueigh with loud and open throat:
But that (besides vs Poets) I do see,
In other schoolemen as much vanitie,
Who do deserue worse punishment then speach,
If to the world I durst their crimes appeach.
Quintilian was the first fa­mous Grāma­rian that euer read openly in Rome.
Tis not Quintilian, tis not he alone,
That doth his Schollers villanies bemone,
But others, whom if here I should display,
And tell their vices, thou wouldst quickly say,
This was an excellent Ora tor called Gi [...] ­nan di Pistoia: He wrot diuers epistles in Itali­an, but very wanton which are much in request amōgst his country­men the Itali­ans.
That from Pistoius closset (not from mine)

He meaneth frō some of Are­tynes lasciuious workes, which are of great ac­count in his cū ­try. Ar [...]yne was borne in Arez­zo, a towne sub­iect to the duke of Florence, and where excellent dishes are made of fine earth for banquering stuffe. At first he studied diu [...]tie: But when he saw the Court of Rome to make no accoūt of vertuous lear­ning, he gaue ouer that course, and writ most villanous bookes, as Villa dille [...], del [...]e Maritale, & delle Curtezant. He was such a seuere taxer of Princes faults, which liued in his time, that he was called [...]lagello delli Principi, the scourge of Princes. He died in Venice, and lieth buried in Sebastians Church, with this [...]tathe.

Qui iacet l [...] Amara Tosco,
Del s [...]men humani lacia lingua tra [...]e,
Et viue, & morti [...] Idnio mal disse:
Et si scuso con dio I nol conosco.
Here biting Aretyn lies buried,
With gall more bi [...]er neuer man was fed.
The liuing nor the dead to carp he spared,
Nor he for any King or Key sar cared.
Onely on God to raile he had forgot,
His scuse was this (quoth he) I know him not.
They stolne haue, and from Peter Aretine.
[Page 85] From others studies, honor oft and shame
I reape, and so with pleasure mix defame:
Yet not in such wise as when I doe spie;
That Poets praise as well doe liue as die.
More I doe grieue and inwardly lament,
By this co­uert name be bewaileth the disgrace of Po­etry that is in this age.
To heare how faire Aonio by consent,
Is senselesse held without all braine or wit,
And that the winde so wauering doth not flit:
Then if from some most foolish Doctors voice,
His neare Ally in solly and in choice.
I should haue heard the same, to whō some foole
(Like to him selfe) in his vnlettred schoole,
The selfe same honor on his same should clap,
With a scarlet gowne, and formall corner cap.
Vnder these faigned names of Placidian & others which follow after, as Andronoco, Pan­darus, Curio, Pō ­ticus, Flauius, Cu [...]tro and the rest, hee taxeth some great mē that haue liued, of grieuous faults.
It greeues me more that weake Placidian still
With feasts and surfets should his old age fill,
As when he did his youths first heate enioy,
And that from man he should become a boy:
Then for to know how that the same disease,
Andronico my neighbour doth displease,
Who hath possest it full this seauen yeare,
And yet (as at the first) is nothing cleare.
If it be told me, greedy Pandarus
Is ore much griping, Curio Iealious,
That Ponticus affects Idolatrie,
And Flanius sweareth most egregiously:
It doth with spight go to my heart more neare,
Then when, for small gaines I Cusatr [...] heare
False Iudgements vpon any one to fix,
Or that Masse Baptist doth strong poison mix
Amongst his Phisick, whilst (through trechery)
His spanish figs kils vs vnnaturally.
Or, sith that Master in Theologie,
(The counterseit of deepe Diuinitie)
Who (for the nonce) to doe his country wrong,
Mixeth his Burgamasks with the Tuscan tongue,
[Page 86] Keepeth in pay a sniueling durty whore,
Who at one birth two bastards to him bore:
Whilst for to please her greedy nere-fild gut,
He spends. Gods cope vpon that brothell slut,
Though his owne sterued mother mongst the poore
Goes vp and downe, and begs from doore to doore:
Yet afterward I heare him blushlesse cry,
As if he were nought else but sanctitie.
Saying I am the man doth pray and fast,
Giues almes, and leads my life pure virgine chast,
And which is more, thou knowst, ô God aboue,
Deare as my selfe I doe my neighbour loue.
But neither this dissembling nor the rest,
Brings to my thoughts or trouble or vnrest,
So that it shall nor breake my quiet sleepe,
Nor me from foode or other pleasures keepe.
It is not me, it is themselues they wound,
The sores whereof wil on their soules be found.
But to returne from whence this speech me draue,
He meaneth Virginio of whō we spake of be­fore, who after­ward became a Church man, & had very good ecclesiasticall liuings[?], but his other sonne Gian Battista[?] was a soldier, & became Cap­tain of a band of men of the Duke of Fera­ras, of whom he was well ac­counted, & li­ued in good e­steeme with him.
I for my sonne would such a Master haue,
As by my good will with these vgly crimes,
Should nor be staind, nor challeng'd by the times:
One that would truly make him vnderstand,
From the great language (so loued in our Land)
He meaneth Homer that fa­mous Greeke Poet.
What politick Vlysses did at Troy,
Both of his trauels and his sad anoy,
Appolonius of the sect of Py­thagorians, wrot an excellent discourse of his trauels in greeke, which is extant.
Or all that euer Appolonius writ,
Or what Euripides (that fount of wit)
With tragedies of stately Sophocles,
And the Astrean Poets workes of praise.
To them adde Pindarus whose famous bookes,
Called Galatea from the water-brookes:
With all those other writers which so long
Haue beene renowned for the Greekish tongue,
Already hath my selfe taught him to know,
Virgil and Ouid, and Horace long agoe.
[Page 87] Plautus and [...] he doth vnderstand,
And oft haue seene them acted in our land.
Thus (without me) by this his Latine aide,
His mea­ning was when his sonne had gotten the La­tine tongue pe [...]sitly, then he should learne the Greeke, and not before.
He may hereafter safe to Delphos traide,
Nor can he misle the way to Hellicon,
But safely to his iourneys end pas [...]e on,
Yet that his iourney may the safer be,
And he more strengthned by his industry.
Ariostos care is to be com­mended, in that he is so desi­rous to haue a good schoole­master for his sonne.
I faine would haue for him a trusty guide,
Whose knowledge in these countries hath beene tride,
My slothfulnesse, or rather desteny,
He was for­ [...]e he could not teach his sonne Greeke as well as hee did Latine.
Forbids my selfe to keepe him company.
From Phoebus Temple vnto Delos Ile,
As Roman gates I opened him erewhile,
My meaning is, that I am farre to seeke,
Though Latine I him taught, to teach him Greeke.
Alas, when first I was by nature giuen
To verse, and not thereto by strong hand driuen:
My bloome of youth being in the first apeare,
As hauing on my chinne not one soft heire,
My father with all rigor of his wit,
Quickly compels me to abandon it,
To study glosses and the ci [...]ll Law,
In which fiue yeares I spent, but no good sawe.
But when he from his wisedome did perceiue
That I an endlesse web began to weaue,
And that against my nature I did climbe,
The scale I loued not, and so lost my time,
With much adoe he gaue me libertie,
And made his will my will accompany.
Now was I twentie yeares of age and more,
Nor had I any schoolemaster before,
So as (to tell you true) I scarse was able
To vnderstand in Asope any fable,
Till smiling fortune brought me to conuerse,
[Page 88]
This was an excellent La­tinist, and a good Grecian, and the best schoolemaster that euer Ario­sto had.
With Gregorie of Spoleto whose commerce,
I shall renowne and euer loue his name,
Because what skill I haue, from him it came.
In Romane language he was excellent,
And in the Grecian tongue as eloquent;
So that he well could iudge from skill profound,
Whose trumpet had the shrill or better sound,
Or Venus sonne, or Thetis louely boy:
But I in those deepe iudgements tooke no ioy,
Nor sought to knowe the wrath of Hecuba,
Nor how Vlysses slily stole away
From valiant Rhesus, both his life and horse,
By art of wit, and not by manly force.
For I desirous was to know at first,
Why to Aeneas, Iuno was so curst,
Or why her malice with prolixitie,
Held him from being king of Italie.
Besides me thought no glorie would arise,
From the Greeke tongue, to me in any wise,
If first I did not Latine vnderstand,
It being once the tongue of our owne Land.
Whilst thus the one with industry I sought,
Hoping the other would with ease be caught:
Angry occasion fled me, for because,
Offring her fore-lock, I did seeme to pause:
He meaneth Isabel daughter to Alphonso, king of Naples, whose husband Iohn Galbazzo Sforza was duke of Millan, ouer which state his vnkle Lodwick (surna­med the More, because he was of a tawny cō ­plexion) did v­surpe, & in the end poisoned his foresaid nephew, who died at Pania, after whose death his sonne called Francis Sforza, who maried Beaterice the daughter of Hercules Duke of Ferrara, beeing very young, succeeded his father in the Dukedome, but his foresaid great vnckle Lodowick ruled all. To this yong Duke Francis Sforza, was Gregorie di Sp [...]lete rutor, by the meanes of Isabell his mother.
That haplesse dutchesse tooke my Gregorie
From me, to fix in her sonnes company,
Whose Vnckle did vsurpe his souerainty,
For which she saw reuenge sufficiently.
(Though to her cost) alasse why was't not ment,
That he which wrongs should haue the punishment [...]
[Page 89]
After Iodo­wick had a while vsurped vpō the duchie of Millan, which belong­ed vnto his Ne­phew, both he and his Ne­phew were be­traied by the Swizers, & sold vnto Lewis the 12. then King of France, who sent them pri­soners to the castell of Lo­ches, wherein they remained as long as they liued. The aforesaid Lod [...] ­wick was a Prince most excellent for his eloquence and industry, & for many good gifts of nature and spi­rit, a creature of very rate per­fection, had he not beene of a too ambitious and aspiring minde. others reporte that there was no commendable qualitie in him, but gi­uen to be busie headed and troublesome, [...]ing his neighbour Princes together by the eares: he was the first which brought Lewis the 12. King of France into Italie, being one of the chief occasions of all the troubles that happened vnto hi country: others say he began an vsur­per, liued a dissembler, and dyed a begger, and which is worse, a wretched prisoner.
The vnckle and the nephew, such was fate,
Lost at one instant, kingdome, goods, and state:
Both being conuaid close prisoners into France,
One instant giuing date to each mischance.
But Gregorie at the suite of Isabel,
Followed his scholler whom he lou'd so well,
Gre­gorie of Spoleto following the yong Duke Francis Sforza into France, within a while after dyed there.
To France he follow'd, where he liu'd, till death
Tooke from his best of friends their best of breath.
This losse so great, with other losses more,
Which (vnexspected) I with patience bore,
Made me forget the Muses, and my song,
And all that to my study did belong.
When Ariosto was 24. yeares of age, his father died (who in his youth had beene a companion of Duke Borzo, & after that an officer to Duke Hercules) leauing his mother cal­led Maria to liue with him, & another of his sisters called Maria also, for whom he was to pro­uide a dowrie.
Then dyed my father: from Maria now,
My minde I to Maria needs must bow,
I now must finde a husband who must take
One of my sister to his louing make.
Then for another I must straight prouide,
That to a lesser charge I might be tide:
Although Ariosto was the eldest sonne, yet was he not left rich, because his fathers liuing stoode most vpon offices and fees which died with him.
For though the Land came vnto me as haire,
Yet others held in it with me a share.
Then to my yonger brothers was I bound,
Who me a father in my loue haue found,
Doing that office which most dutiously
I ought performe to sacred pietie.
Some of them vnto studie did attaine,
Some in the Court did couet to remaine:
Each one to such good courses so well bent,
That to my conscience they gaue good content,
[Page 90] Whereby I saw their vertuous infancy,
Would saue their age from all indignitie:
Nor was this all the care which from my booke,
Kept my long thirsty and desiring looke:
But many more, (though these sufficient be)
That I was forc't in this extremitie,
To ty my Barke vnto the safe calme shore,
Lest it should saile at randon as before,
And so vnwares vpon the quick-sands runne,
Whereby the rest and I might be vndone.
He w [...]s so much perplex­ed with the cha [...]ge of so great a familie as he had, and with bestowing his sisters, and prouiding for his brothers, that he was in a maner ready to giue ouer his study, had not the emulation which he had with a gentle­man of his own name & kinne, called Pandol­pho Ariosto, still renewed his former disposi tion.
But I as then so many crosses had,
And in so many folds of griefes was clad:
That I desired nothing but my death,
As weary onely of a wearie breath.
Pandolph [...] his cheefe fréd and cosin dy­ing: he tooke his death so heauily, as for a while he gaue ouer his booke and study.
Ay me! as then my chiefest pleasure died,
The columne whereon all my hopes relied,
He whose commerce did onely ioy my hart,
Gaue life vnto my studie, bred mine art:
Whose sweetest emulation made me runne,
That frō the world I might the goale haue wun.
My kinsman, friend, my brother most, most, deare
My heart, my soule, nay thē my soule more neare,
My best Pandolpho died, ô that my death
Had beene the happy ransome of his breath.
O hard mishap, ô cruell ouerthrow,
That to the Ariostian house could grow,
To lese their choisest branch, their garlāds grace,
Whose like shall neuer grow in any place.
In so great honor liuing didst thou liue,
That I but rightly said, when I did giue
Thee first preheminence to vertues crowne,
In all Ferrara, or Bologna towne;
From whence thy noble ancestors first came,
And at this day doe florish in the same.
If vertue honor giues, as vice disgrace,
[Page 91] Then neuer was there any of his place,
More likelier to obtaine in each degree,
All honor, worth, and famous dignity.
Now to my fathers death, and next to his,
(Two images my soule can neuer misse,)
This was Hypolito the Ca [...]dinall, of whom we spake so much in the first Satyre, ha­uing receiued but small kind­nesse for his great paines in seruice.
Adde how I was oppressed with the thrall,
Of seruitude vnto the Cardinall:
The honest disposition of the Poet, who commendeth the Cardinall, although he had no cause thereto.
And yet no Prince with him may be compar'd
For bounty, though to me perpetuall hard.
For f [...]om the time Pope Iu [...]o was create,
Euen till his breath of life did consummate,
Andafterward, of Leo seauen yeare,
He did not suffer me stay any where,
And so my wits about his workes applide,
That in no certaine place I could bide:
That from a Poet I was straight transuerted,
And to a worthlesse Caualier conuerted.
This was a­boue 18, yeeres in all, all which time he follow­ed the Cardi­nals seruice with exceeding great paines, yet receiued little or no be­nefit.
Note then if posting alwaies vp and downe,
Through Cities, Courts, & euery country towne,
I could the Greeke or Chaldean tongue obtaine,
Whilst to my selfe my selfe did not remaine.
Now I assure thee I do much admire,
That such a fate my fate did not acquire,
Aulus Gelli­us mak [...]th mē ­tion of a cer­tain philosopher in Athens, who through a blow he had vpon the head with the fall of a great stone, fell into such a strange ifinrmity, that after he was recouered he lost his memory, [...] such wise, that he forgot that euer he was scholler, nor vnto his death could rem [...]mber that euer he knew or had any learning at all.
As did to that Philosopher befall,
Vpon whose head a stone fell from the wall,
Whose very stroke did from his braine disseuer
All former thoughts and motions whatsoeuer.
But to be breefe good Bembo I thee pray,
(Ere I too late should wish) elect the way,
To choose for my Virgini [...] such a frend,
As thy best iudgement may with worth cōmend,
[Page 92] That right might guide him to Pernassus hill,
Since I thereto haue neither fate nor skill:
Yet no such Pedagogue I craue as this,
Whose storie Ile relate, and this it is.
There was an youth in Spaine, of ill-bred blood,
A Tale.
In learning poore, but rich in wordly good,
Whose frends when he was yong put him to schoole,
But all in vaine, the foole prou'd still more foole.
At last a liuing of the Church there fell,
In that same towne where this rich foole did dwell:
And to the same a free schoole ioyned was,
Whither the townsmens children all might passe
Gratis, and teaching haue, sith stypends great,
Allotted was to th'one and th'others seate.
Now when his kinne of this had heard the fame,
They thought with coine to plant him in the same:
Meaning for schoole an vsher he should haue,
And for his Church some Deacon, sober, graue,
To both of which, small pensions he should giue,
And on the surplussage himselfe would liue:
For this was in the daies of ignorance,
When men did wealth, not worthy arts aduance,
Besides they thought, by this deuise to make
The world this foole for some wise Solon take:
When they should heare what liuings he possest,
In which they none but men of note inuest.
Hence from the King of Spaine by coyne they got
His royall letters, to commend this sott
Vnto the Pope himselfe, for it was he,
That held this guift in his owne charitie.
Besides a priuie item in them was,
His holinesse should suffer this rich asse
To be instald, and not examined,
As one whose art was onely famozed.
Onely three words of latine he was taught,
[Page 93] When with his letters first he should be brought
Before the Pope: which spoken artfully,
He should haue his dispatch with breuity.
The first was this, making a reuerence,
He onely should say, Salue sancte parens.
The Pope then, Vnde venisti, would reply,
De Spania must he say, then by and by.
Vbi sunt litterae (last) the Pope would say,
He then must answere, In mantica mea:
And take them forth, and kissing them he shold,
Forthwith dispatcht be, with his bribing gold.
Thus being taught his le [...]on by his friends,
Towards Rome he h [...], for there his iourney tends.
But halfe the way he hardly had discernd,
Ere he had lost the Latine he had learn'd.
Now as he beat his braines againe to find,
What he had lost, though t'was out of his mind:
It fortun'd as he did amuze thereon,
To see come by a great Procession.
One of the Priests whereof did loudly sing,
Sal [...]e sancte parens, that the streets did ring.
When as this dunse no sooner heard the same,
But into his dull braine forthwith it came:
Those were the words he onely had forgot,
And therefore ouerioyed at his lot:
Great hast he makes to haue a swift accesse,
(By meanes of friends) vnto his Holinesse.
Where falling downe low, Salue sancte parens,
Sayes this foole Scholler, in an open audience.
The Pope not knowing what he meant by this,
Saies, Non sum mater Christi, you your mark do misse.
The other sencelesse ( Paraquito like)
Not knowing what he spake or wrong or right,
De Spania, did reply with count'nance bold,
The Pope, that with a frowne did him behold,
[Page 94] Mumbled, Demonium habe adolescen t [...];
In mantica mea, he replied, and drew
His bag, to giue his letters to the Pope:
Who thinking with the Diuell he should cope,
Cried out, and for to run was ready prest,
Till oneofsome more wit then all the rest,
Found that an Asse was in a Lions hide,
Whose base ambition all men did deride.
But when the Pope the Spanish King did see,
So earnest in this fooles behalfe to be:
And likewise did consider how much gaine,
His coffers by such Idiots did retaine:
Accipiamus pecuniam then he said,
Et admittamus Asinum in his stead.
Thus was the Spaniard lightned of his gold,
And both these liuings vndeseru'd did hold.
Bembo, no such like Pedant do I craue,
We and the world too many of them haue.
Let him be learned, and an honest man,
Let him haue both these vertues if you can.
"Where vertue reigneth most, least vice is still:
"Thy iudgement's good, I aske but thy good will.

The seuenth and last Satyre.

THE ARGVMENT.

Hee sheweth that honours change manners, and that many men increasing in fortune and riches, change their first good vertues and qualities, be­ing e [...]her vnmiuafull or vnthankefull towards such f [...] whom they haue receiued former cour­tesies, & how his desire alwaies was to liue at his study and booke quietly, and with a small liuing.

NOble
Arioste writ this Satyre a little before hee got leaue to giue ouer his Liu [...]nancie of Grassanana, which he so much misliked: and this Pistofil [...] being Secretary to the Duke of Ferrara, obtained licence for him to come away, not long before which time he offred him to go Embassador to Pope Clement, but he would not in any wise accept it.
Pistofile, thou dost write to me,
IfI the Dukes Embassador would be,
Written to the honorable Bo­nauenter, [...], Secretary to Alphonso Duke of Ferrara.
Clement the seuenth, was base sonne to Iulio ( Leo the tenths bro­ther) he was called Iulio before, & was first made knight of the Rhodes, by the afore named Leo his kinsman, and after that, Cardinall and Legat of Bologna. He was so mightie when he was Cardinal, as making his entry into two Conclaues, he was absolute commander of 16. voices. He was at last made Pope within two yeares after the death of Leo, notwithstanding the ma­ny obtrusions and emulations of the most ancient Cardinals. This man married Catherine di Medices, his Neece, vnto the second sonne of Francis the French king: and in his time was Rome sacked by the Emperial armie (whereof the Duke of Burbon was General, & was slaine before the walles) and the Pope himselfe, with certaine Cardinals, taken prisoners. Hee died hated of all his Court, suspected of most Princes, & for the order of his life, he left behind him a renowne, rather hatefull then acceptable: for hee was accounted couetous, of little fi­delity, and naturally farre of from doing pleasure to any man, insomuch that hee was in a manner vnwilling his owne house of Medici should be aduanced.
Vnto Pope Clement, and for three yeares space,
In Rome liue Ledger, with all port and grace:
[Page 96] To giue thee notice, and thou wilt with paine,
To my request this suit and glory gaine.
Besides, with reasons thou dost me perswade,
That I would in this noble motion wade:
As first that all men haue esteemed me,
A perfit friend vnto the Medici:
That we acquaintance most familiarly,
Haue had together, and most inwardly:
As well when they at first were banisht men,
As when their C [...]y cald them home agen.
Although our Poet was well acquainted with Pope Leo and all the house of Medi­ci, when they were but pri­uate Citizens, and after when they obtained greater dignities: yet hee like a wise man, looking into the world, and perceiuing the fashion of countries, how they would giue faire words, but doe few kind deedes, considering how well hee deserued at their hands, hee very cunningly drewe his necke out of the collar, and gaue ouer the Court. But to come to Leo the tenth againe, he was chosen Pope, the seuenth day after the Cardinals went into the Conclaue, being then bu [...] [...]. yeares old, the young Cardinals being the occasion of his election, by their great industry, hauing long time before secretly agreed amongst themselues, to create the first Pope of their number: his name was Iohn before. He was a mightie Prince in his time for he pos­sessed in peace, and great obedience, the large estate of the Church of Rome, and his whole court florisht wonderfully vnder him, in plentifull happinesse and felicitie. Hee had full authoritie ouer the sta [...]e of Florence, which in those da [...]es, was a common wealth mighty in people, policy, and riches. He was naturally inclined to pleasures, & therefore tooke no great delight in hearing of suits and busying himselfe about such a [...]faires as concerned the Apostolicall sea: his custome was to consume the day in hearing of musick, in seeing of stage­plaies, and trifling with scoffers and [...]esters, and was so [...]nate, a [...] hee was altogether e­stranged from warres, giuing himselfe so much to ease, that he grew so corpulent and fat, as though he was but a yong man, yet was he scarce able to goe vpon his legs. Besides, he was o­uer liberall & m [...]gnificall, insomuch that he not onely wasted the treasures that Iulio the 2. his Predecessor left him, but also was euer poore & needy. He had no great care to raise or make great his house or kindred, after his 2. brethren Iulio & Peter were dead, being greatly vnfor­tunate in this, that he liued to see in himself the end of his own house, excepting one yong mai­den, who was called Katherine de Medices, of whom we spake before. He died in [...]ome of a feuer But as some say, he was poisoned by B [...]rniby Malespina, his Chamberlain, whose office was al­waies to giue him drink, & it was thought he was hired therunto by the French king then li­ [...].
That I knew Leo after and before
On crimson shooe the golden crosse he bore.
Next (that besides thou thinkst, I profit should
The Dukes estate) vnto my selfe it would
Exceeding gaine, and mightie profit bring,
Besides the steps of honour I should win.
[Page 97] That in a riuer great, more fish are caught,
Then in a little brooke of easie draught:
That Princes seruices haue no compare,
And where we profit find, all pleasures are.
But now that you haue to my minds best eie,
Explain'd your wisedome, hearken my reply.
First to thy noble vertues thankes I giue,
That thus in thy remembrance I do liue:
And that I find thou alwaies didst contend,
How me vnto aduauncements to commend:
Seeking to make me worthy as the best,
When my dull spirit with no fire was blest.
Next, I assure thee, willingly I wold,
Passe fire, or flood, or any, freezing cold,
To serue the Duke: nor shalt thou me command,
To Rome alone, but euery other land
Ile post through willingly, and trie the fate
Of Fraunce, of Spaine, or of the Indian state.
But where thou saiest, that I shall honours gaine,
And to my selfe a world of wealth attaine,
If that thou thinkest will moue, then pardon me,
For in that point I cannot iump with thee:
Vultes anno­sahaud capitur laqueo. Ariosto had tried the Court so often, where he found onely words & no deedes.
Other deuices must allure my minde,
Ambition in my thoughts I neuer find,
Honour I haue too much, I none do lacke,
And faine I would discharge some from my backe.
It shall suffice, as through Ferrara I
Walke, to dispatch my buisinesse seriously:
Each one that meetes me, giues me courtesie,
Vaileth his hat, and speaketh thankfully:
[...]lphonso duke of Ferrara vsed him very kindly, making him in some sort his compa­nion, though otherwise hee got little in his seruice.
For all men know it oft hath pleas'd his grace,
That I at his owne table should take place.
Nor when or for my selfe, or for my frend,
I do the weight of any suit commend,
Am I repulst: but what I wish to draw,
[Page 98] (So it agree with reason or the Law)
And (if although my mind be satisfide,
With all that doth in honours power abide)
I had so much of wealth that my desire,
Vnto a greater height could not aspire:
I then should quiet be, where now my minde,
To keep a compasse right, I neuer find.
I for my selfe but this wish and and no more,
That I might liue, not beg of others store.
Which henceforth ile not hope for, since I proue,
So many mightie men haue vow'd my loue,
As might haue made me rich, and yet refused,
(For little I haue had, and lesse haue vsed)
Whence growes the cause that thus I poorely serue,
Although I might say, better I deserue.
Fortune is fained by the Poets, to be slow in esca­ping from the vessel of Epime­theus: that is, an after w [...] is bet­ter then a fore­wit, a good lucke commeth not so soone as an ill. Of this Epimetheus, you may read more in Plato.
I will not that the power which once was slow,
From carelesse Epimethius crue to go:
Shall draw me like a Buffone by the nose,
Nor will I more delight in flattering shoes.
Much doth the painted turning wheele me feare,
Which after one selfe manner euery where
Is drawne by painters: true t'is like to be,
When as so many in one thing agree.
Alluding to the common saying, Fortuna fauet fatuis: for commonly it is seene, who deserueth best, findeth least fa­uour at he hands.
He that sits on the top thereof's an Asse,
All know this riddle, and may let it paste
Withour a Sphynx which may the same expound,
The meaning with such easinesse is found.
He saith that euery one that is lifted vp vp­on the wheele of Fortune loo­keth hie, for-getting his old friends, & be­commeth a new man as it were, not re­membring his old poore ac­quaintance, with whom he so familiarly conuersed before.
Besides, these seene that all which mount on hie,
E [...]soones refine their members curiously.
Meaning honours changeth manners: Affirming that a meane man raised to dignity, and then humbling himselfe, as he did before, shall bee rather hindred then aduanced thereby, and therefore he must keepe state still.
And what of earth behind doth heauy stay,
That keepes him backe in all things as it may.
The very hope it selfe to mind I call,
Which with the leaues and flowers came first of all,
[Page 99] But after fled away: nor did September,
Expect all this, and more I can remember,
He meane th Leo the tenth of whom wee spake before.
The day the Church was vnto Leo giuen,
For spouse, and (for her dowry) endlesse liuing:
When at that mariage, I so many saw,
Of my best friends, who then to Rome did draw,
On whom fair, scarlet honours were bestow'd:
Whilst I liued still with my poore needy load,
The Calends came, the Id [...]s were past and gone,
Yet I of any was not thought vpon.
I could not be remembred, and yet I
Remember this, and shall do till I die.
An excellent saying of Ario­sto, and a wor­thy precept to know the in­constancie of common friendship.
O t'is most vaine, for man on man to trust,
Ile none beleeue, they all are most vniust.
That day came down from heauen fond foolish hope
And went to sorraine soiles, when first the Pope
Imbrac't and kist me (though it was vnmeet)
Whilest prostrate I fell downe before his feet.
But afterwards, when I perceiu'd that nought,
(Saue air [...] of words) his fauours to me brought:
And that experience taught me how to know,
That onely shadowes from such grace did flow:
I then began to giue despaire my hand,
And plainly saw, I fisht on the drie land:
And since that time I vow'd, none to beleeue,
Nor more (for what I cannot haue) to greeue.
He applieth his hasty po­sting to Rome, to be aduanced by Leo when hee was made Pope (of which hee was decei­ued) and the suddaine rising of Leo and the Medici, & his chiefe friends, to the sprouting of this Gourd, which as it ro [...]e hastily, so did it [...] suddainly, and so did they all, Ariosto of his expect [...]ō, the Pope and [...] his followers [...] their gloue.
There was a Gourd or Mellon, long agoe,
That (in a while shot vp) so high did grow,
As it a Peare-tree (neighbour by) so couerd,
That with her leaues, his boughes were welny smotherd.
Now this same Peare-tree on a morning chaunst
To ope his eies, and round about him glaunst:
For he had slept a mightie sleep and long,
And seeing how this new fruit did h [...]m wrong,
Said vnto it: What art thou, and what chaunce,
Makes thee so soone thy proud head to adu [...]unce?
[Page 100] Where wert thou hid, when I fell first asleepe,
That ore my head, thus proudly thou dost peepe?
The Gourd told him her name, & shew'd the Place,
Where on the ground below she planted was:
And that in three months space, it did attaine,
Vnto that height in which it did remaine.
And I (replide the tree) with migh [...]ie feare,
Haue hardly got this talenesse which I beare:
Although this thirtie yeares I here haue growne,
And haue all seasons and all weathers knowne.
But thou which in the twinkling of an eie,
Hast rais'd thy faire head euen into the skie.
Assure thy selfe as thou art grown in hast,
With selfe like speed, thy glories all shall wast.
Euen so my hopes which made me posting come,
My vaine fond hopes, which brought me first to Rome,
Might well haue said, I came in fitter time,
Although the chiefe of the house of Medi­ci, had but ill fortune, which were Pope Le­os brethren, yet Clement his kinseman, who within two yeares after succeeded him in the Papacie, aised vp againe (although in a manner constrained therunto) his familie in Florence; for hee sent for his nephew Alexandre, out of Flaunders, where he followed the Emperour Char [...]es the fift, who comming to Florence, pro­clai [...]ed himself absolute Duke of that City. He married the Emperours base daughter, and carried himselfe very stoutly towards the people, insomuch as in the end hee was slaine by a kinseman of his owne, called Laurence di Medices; who thereupon [...]ed to Venice, & was after­ward slaine by certaine men, in hope of a reward which was proclaimed to be giuen to him that could take the [...] either aliue or dead. Alexander being thus dispatcht, Cosmo the son of Iohn di Medices, was chosen Duke of the Florentins, who liued some 23-yeares after his election. He married Don Diego di Tolledos daughter, Viceroy of Naples, & had diuers chil­dren by her, of which Francesco succeded him, & after his death then Ferdinando his brother who was called Ferdinando di Medices, gran Du [...]a di Tuscano. This Ferdinando married the daughter of the Duke of Lorrain, grandchild & executrix to Katherine di Medices, late Queene mother of Fraunce.
Euen when the Medici were in their prime.
That I did help them when they did remaine
Exiles, and sought to bring them home againe:
And that to make the Lambe like Leo proue,
A Princely Lyon I did thither moue.
This So [...]na was a noble man of Romagna in Italy, allied to the Strozzi of Florence, and therefore one that could not brooke the greatnesse of the Medici.
He that had held Gharles So [...]nas braue spright,
[Page 101] Would then perhaps haue said in open sight,
When Leo the tenth was Pope (as I said before) hee vn­iustly expulst the Duke of Vrbin out of his lawfull e­state, & placed his nephew Laurence in that Dukedo [...]e, who had to wife through the fauour of Francis the French King, Lady Magdalena, nobly de­scended of the Duke of [...]on, with a yearely re [...]enewe of ten thousand crownes, during her life. But this mariage proued but fatall vnto them both, for after hee had beene a while in France where he consūmated his wedding, his wife died, and he within a while after follow­ed her, leauing none other heire of his bodie lawfully begotten, then one young daughter called Katherine who as I said before, was maried to the French King Henry the second: she dyed in Anno 1588, about the same time that the Duke of Guise was slaine in the Castel of Bloise by her sonne Henry the third, king of France and Poland. In this foresaid Katherine en­ded the direct and right line (speaking of those which were lawfully begotten) of Cosmo di Medices, surnamed the great. The aforenamed Laurence, was a man of great hope for his yeares, for his valour and learning, and was a great Mecenas and fauourer of the learned: he left a base sonne behind him called Alexander first Duke of Florence, who, as I said but euen now, was afterward sla [...]ne by his owne kin [...]man.
VVhen he had heard Lorenzo to be nam'd
By stile of Duke, and with that title fam'd:
He meaneth Don Iulian, Pope Leo brother, who died of a consuming and languishing disease in Florence, whose w [...]fe Philib [...]rta of Sauoy, although she was but yong, and with all passing [...], when her husband left her widowe, notwithstanding she had many great offers of diuerse Priaces which then liued: yet did she (to the wondring of euery one) giue ouer the world voluntarily, retiring her selfe into a Nunnery, which she her selfe had built, where she liued in deuotion vnto her dying daie.
He to Duke Nemours would as much haue said,
And not of scornefull eies haue stood afraid
This was a noble man of Florence, a follower of the Medices, and by Leo made Car­dinall.
Vnto the Cardinall of Rosi, and
He meaneth Barnard Di [...]itio of Bibiena, who was a mightie man of wealth, and a true friend vnto the Medices in all their troubles, aiding them continually with men and mo­ney. A man of that good conscience, that Don Iulio Duke of Nemours made him his executor when he died, although as then he had two brethren aliue, which were Pope Leo, and Peter the eldest of the three.
To Bibiena (mightie rich in land)
VVho had bene better much if he had staid
Torsy was Bibienas cheefe house or place, not farre from Casentino. The Poet saith, he had beene better to haue liued quietly at home, then to haue beene Cardinall, because it cost him so much in assisting the Medices in their troubles, and again [...], because hee did not long enioy that honour, but dyed.
At Torsy, then a red hat to haue swaid.
[Page 102]
Contesina is the name of Leo the tenths mother.
He would haue said vnto Contesina,
This was the King of France kins­woman, & wife to Laurence the Popes nephew, of whom wee spake before.
To Magdalena (beautious at that day)
This was Alfonzina the Pope [...] sister, & mother vnto Laurence di Me­dices, vnto whō Leo graunted a donation of the profits, and exactions of the indulgen­ces in many places in Ger­many, vpon which occasion Martin Luther began first to take exception against the Pope for the same, and so consequently against the popish religion.
Vnto the daughter and the Mother in lawe,
The Co [...]onation of Leo was so sumptuous and costly, that many tooke exceptions against the same, as in Guychardine more at large apeareth.
And all that house which euery one then saw
Orecome with ioy, euen thus I say, he wold
Talke to the worlde with courage strong and bold,
Thy similie most properly applide,
May be to them which doe with greatnesse bide:
For as their ioies aboue all ioies did runne,
So shall they quickly fade and be vndone.
All that were at the coronation of Leo in their iollitie (I meane the greatest persons) died within a while after, first Peter the elder brother was drowned, [...]ulian the second consumed to death shortly after, Laurence their [...]ephew died of a languishing disease in France, and his wife a li [...]le before him, left her life there also, so likewise Contesina the Popes mother, Alfonzina his sister, the Cardinals of Rossi and Bib [...]na, yea and the Pope Leo himselfe, all these I say dyed one after another in a short space, as namely in the space of eight yeares and lesse.
All men must die, their time indures not euer,
And this strong fate can be eschewed neuer:
That Leo also shall his life resigue
Ere Troies first founder shall into the signe
Turne eight times: this as gospell is most true,
For so each thing did afterwards ensue.
But to spend much idle talke herein,
I say, I first of all did then begin,
To giue ore all my more then foolish hope,
When I got nothing of my best knowne Pope.
If Leo gaue my fortunes nothing, then
Tis vaine to hope for gaine from other men.
(Deare Lord) thou must with other hookes and draught
Fish for me, if thou looke I shall be caught:
But if perforce thou wilt haue me to goe,
Thy will be done, and I am prest thereto:
Yet honour shall not moue me, Riches lesse,
[Page 103] For neither of them both I would possesse:
Honor I scorne, for tis meere vanity,
And riches mix not with my desteny.
He intrea­teth (rather thé to be troubled any more) to be rid first of his liuetenancy of Graffigna­na, the coun­try beeing so full of factions and diuisions, & such a num­ber of rebels & Banditi swar­ming euery where, as he was in a maner wearie of his life.
Say rather I shall leaue this p [...]ace I keepe,
Nor longer with these barbarous people sleepe,
More rude then are the rocks wherin they dwell,
So rude their maners are, and wratl [...] so fell,
Say, I shall not be troubled, some to fine,
Some to exile to kill or to confine:
Whilst I complaine that force doth ouersway
All reason, yet that force I must obay.
Tell me I shall haue leasure and fit time
To talke vnto the Muses in sweete rime,
And midst faire groaues and arbors to deuise
The strength of verse and rarely poetize.
These are the names of certaine lear­ned men, then abiding in Rome, and fa­miliar friends and acquain­tances with our Poet.
Tell me, with Sadolet, with Bembo, Iouio,
With Molza, Vida and with Blosio;
VVith Tibaldo and Pontanus, and the rest,
I may liue at mine ease, most happy blest,
Taking for guide, which of them best doth please me:
Or altogether iointly fit and case me,
VVhilst they to me old Romes antiquitie,
Discribe at large with graue authority:
Circus was a place like our tik-yards, where the ancient Romanes vsed to runne with Charriots and horses for certaine games or prises.
Saying here Circus was, and here did stand
Forum Romanum, and here on this hand

Saburra was a streete most of all frequented in Rome, by reason there dwelled many Curtezans, for Vbi cadauer ibi Coru [...] and therefore like enough to giue occasion of much qua­rell and misrule amongst youths, as appeareth by Iuue [...]all and Mortiall in these verses.

Fame, non nimium bone puelle,
Quales in media sedent Saburra.
Saburra stoode, this Sacer [...] was,
[Page 104] And now by Vestaes Temple you do passe:
Tell me, I cannot any thing indite,
(Nor of what subiect best shall please me write)
But I may counsaile haue and take aduise,
If any doubt doth in the Author rise:
That out of Latine, Tuscan, or of Greeke,
I may translate, or any pleasure seeke.
Besides the number great thou maist me tell,
Of worthy ancient bookes which doe excell:
One of the rarest libraries in the world, built in the Popes pallace of Saint Peter in Rome by Sistus Quartus, and much aug­mented by Si­stus Quintus, it is thought there are not so fewe as ten thousād bookes little & great within the same.
All which Pope Sistus through the world of late,
Did gather for the good of publick state,
Whilst this rare library each one may vse,
And what him list may from it cul and chuse.
Now when such proffers thou shalt make to me,
Of noble worth, account and dignitie,
And yet this Iourney I refuse nere-lesse,
Thou then maist say that frenzy doth possesse,
My troubled braine, and melancholy fits,
Hath brought distemperature vnto my wits.
But I, instead of answering thee, wil play
This Emi­liut was a no­ble Roman, who hauing maried a ma [...]ailous faire & beautifull yong Lady, put her away, and be­ing blamed of his frie [...]ds for so doing, held out his foote vnto them, saying, see you this my shooe how fine it is made, how well it sits vpon my foote, and how handsome it is for me, and yet none of you all know­eth in what parte of my foote it wringeth and pincheth m [...] eu [...]n so my wife, although as you say, she is faire, courteous, wittie and well spoken, yet none of you know in what sort she offendeth me.
As did Emillius once, who forth did lay
His foote vnto his friend, saying you see
How cleane my shoe is made, how neate, how curiously,
And yet for all this, little dost thou know,
Where it doth wring me, or doth gall my toe.
He takes me from my selfe that doth remoue
My bodie from the natiue soile I loue:
For being absent thence, I cannot liue,
Yea, lay I in Ioues lap, I yet should grieue:
And should I not be daily one of those,
Who for their morning walks wi [...]h pleasure goes
[Page 105]
He meaneth the two statues in the market place of Ferra­ra as you go to the Domo, (which is the Cathedrall Church of the same Citie) the one of Lionel, and the other of Bozre, two Princes of the house of Esta.
Betweene the Domo of Ferrara, and
Those famous statues which richly stand,
Of my two noble Marquesses, then I
Should die with greefe, to want that liberty,
And leaner would my visage be then his,
Whose lips the water and the fruit doth kisse:
Yet hath no power either of both to taste,
But pines with hunger, and away doth waste.
Francis the first French king that bare that name,
One day by fortune vnto Paris came,
And by a wealthy Burgesse feasted was,
Whose sumptuous cheare and bounty did surpasse.
Now whilst the King amongst his minions sate,
And merrily discour'st of euery state:
Each one began to tell some wondrous thing,
And mongst the rest one told vnto the king,
That at that time within the Cittie was
An old man liuing who by gesse did passe
The age of fourescore yeares, yet nere was seene,
Out of the walles of Paris to haue beene.
The King admiring at this tale, straight sent
For this old man to come incontinent,
And of him did demand if true it was,
That he beyond those walles did neuer passe:
Or whether feare or loue became the cause,
Which his affections to such straitnes drawes?
The old man thus replide, So please your grace,
I was borne, bred, and brought vp in this place,
And now I am fourescore and ten aboue,
In all which time my foot did neuer moue
Out of the citties gates, though men of worth,
Haue by intreaty sought to get me forth:
So that was not command, but mine owne will,
Which in this towne hath thus confind me still:
Besides no motion in my minde hath moued,
From whence the countries sight should be beloued.
[Page 106] Well then replide the King, since this long space
Thou freely with thy friends hast held this place,
Henceforth I charge thee on the paine of death,
Thou not presum'st so long as thou hast breath,
To looke beyond these walles, for I intend,
As thou hast liued, so thou shalt make an end.
The poore old man, who neuer long'd before
To go out of the towne or out of dore,
As long as it was in his libertie:
Now that he saw he to the contrary
Commanded was, with a most strange desire,
To see the country he is set on fire:
But seeing by constraint he thus was tide
Against his will, for very greefe he dide.
Noble Pistophilo, no such minde I hould
At this old man did, but I rather would
Liue in Ferrara euer from my birth,
Then any forraine nation of the earth:
Yet should I be compeld to leaue that place,
And goe to Rome it would be lesse disgrace,
Then to continue in this hellish soile,
Where nothing is but trouble and turmoile:
But if my Lord intend me any fauour,
O let him call me home, or send me rather
Argento & Bondend are Cities belong­ing to the Dukedome of Ferrara, to which Ariosto was often sent by the Duke, & many times vp and downe about his busi­nes, which hee [...] [...]ry much.
Vnto Argento, Bondena, or where
He can deuise, so I may not liue here.
If needs I must be made a toiling beast,
I faine would haue my burthen with the least:
No packhorse, but a foote cloath would I be,
For they but one man carie easily.
To serue the Duke my soule did neuer grudge,
Onely I greeue to be a common drudge.
But now if you demand the reason why,
I loue mine owne home thus exceedingly,
I will as willingly the same confesse,
As I my grieuous sins doe more or lesse,
[Page 107] Plainely discharge to my Confessors eares,
When at the shrift he all mine errours heares.
And yet I know, that thus replie you can,
And say: loe heere a perfit well stai'd man,
Of fourescore nine yeares at the least, and yet,
Of youths worst loosnesse he must haue a fit.
Hee frankly confesseth that hee cannot liue except hee en­ioy the compa­ny of his Mi­stresse.
So much to pleasure he his minde doth giue,
That without wantonesse he cannot liue:
But it is well for me, that I can hide
My selfe within this valley where I bide,
And that an hundred miles thy purer eie,
Cannot extend to see my vanity:
Or whether pale or red, I chaunce to looke,
When with escapes I suddainly am tooke.
For then thou shouldst perceiue, I blusht for shame,
Although my letter doe not shew the same:
The f [...]rst a notable old mother baud, and the other a fam [...]us Cour­tezan of Ferra­ra, in those daies.
And thou wouldst thinke that neither old dame Amber,
Nor her young daughter (good stuffe in a chamber)
For all their varnish, looked halfe so red:
Or that old father Canon lately dead,
When he let fall amidst the market place,
A bottle full of wine (with foule disgrace)
Which from a Frie [...] he had but stolne before.
Besides (which were about him found) two more.
Were I but with thee now a while, I doubt
Thy loue would with my folly haue about:
And with a cudgell, thou wouldst beat me well,
To heare these frantike reasons which I tell,
And do alleage to liue where as thou art,
For were I with thee, I would neuer part:
But nature and my duty bids me serue
My Prince and country, as they do deserue,
He meaneth his Mistresse, whom he saith he had rather attendon, then vpon any Prince in the worl [...]
Although there is another whom I would
Rather attend on, if get leaue I could.
Great Lord, thou art a Courtier by thy place,
[Page 108] And maiest command for thou hast speciall grace:
The Dukes chieefe Secretary thou onely art,
And mak'st him blest that liues within thy hart.
This Pistofi­lo, Secretary to Alphonso, Duke of Ferrara, was a mā low of sta­ture, and little in body, but of so excellent a wit, and happy memory, that none liued in those daias like vnto him. Be­sides hee was of a sweet con­uersation, and an humble car­riage towards all men, inso much as being of the Dukes [...] Counsell, hee was greatly fauoured and beloued, as wel of his Prince as of the people. Duke Alphonso, would merrily say, that what through his little Pi [...]ce, the Bo [...]re and his strong Castell Barletto (alluding to the name of his, Secretary, which was Bon [...]enter Po [...] and his chiefe General of all his forces, called Galeazo Barletto, a famous Soldier) he thought himselfe st [...]ong inough to encounter with any of his neighbour Princes. This Secretary was an inward friend and of great acquaintance with Nicholas [...], and Peter A [...]tine who [...] in the [...] of Henry the eight, of famous memory King of England. He died in Ferrara [...] his [...] with solemne pompe was conuaicd to be buried at Modena, where he was [...] being in­terred in the Monasterie of S. Francis, there where his monument is at this day to be [...]eene.
Although thou little in thy stature be,
The great'st in Court are glad to crouch to thee:
And truly worthy art thou of thy place,
Since to all vertues thou dost giue all grace.
Wisely thou dost, for better t'is the loue
Of people, then their hatred to approue:
Chiefly where Princes as their fancies range,
Their fauorites do often chop and change.
But yet for all these caps and bended knees,
Which done vnto thee of all sorts thou see's:
Sir (by your leaue) for all your gallant glory,
You sometimes feele what makes you sad and sory.
Oft do you wish, deny it if you can,
That you might liue like to a priuate man.
Courts haue their crosses, kingly crownes their cares
Who merriest liues, best of all men fares.
Vnto no Embassie do me preferre,
But to my Mistresse, I would go to her.
Pisto [...]lo performed this request of A [...]iosto, for within a while after, he had libertie to come to Ferrara, where he liued quietly, and in great credit, vntill his dying day.
Intreat the Duke I may come home againe,
And thats the boone I craue of all thy paine:
Let him but me vnto Ferrara call,
And thou shalt haue my thankes, life, soule and all.
FINIS.

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