SONGS And other POEMS
By ALEX. BROME Gent.
Dixero quid si fortè jocosius, hoc mihi juris
Cum Venià dabis—
Hor. 1.
Sat. 4.
The second Edition Corrected and enlarged.
LONDON, Printed for Henry Brome, at the Gun in Ivy Lane 1664.
Vera Effigies A: Brome.1661
VERA EFFIGIES A: Brome.1654
VERA EFFIGIES A: Brome.1654
VERA EFFIGIES A: Brome.1654
VERA EFFIGIES A: Brome.1654
Fiat Editio altera
Jo. Berkenhead
April 28. 1663.
To the Honourable, S R. JOHN ROBINSON Knight and Baronet, His Majesties Lieutenant of the Tower of LONDON.
THe many great obligations which your nobleness hath from time to time laid upon me, doe merit a more serious acknowledgement then [Page] this rude and toyish addresse can pretend to; whose design is onely to beg pardon and protection, for that I being seduced to print these youthful vanities, have thus audaciously shelter'd them under your celebrated Name. I should not have done it, but that I well know the greatnesse of your soul, and the [Page] Kindnesse you have for me, are a sufficient screen to keep off any offence that I can commit against you: and I have considered also, that there are four great things committed to your custody; the Soldiers, the Lyons, the Guns, and (which is more powerful) the Money. So that if any should have an itch [Page] to snarle at me, they will not dare to open their mouths, least they should be thought to bark at you; In whose Regiment I desire to list this Volunteer, being encouraged by this consideration; that, together with those great and serious Emblems and instruments of power, with which you are entrusted, [Page] the Apes and Catamountains, and other properties of diversion, doe there find safety and subsistence; That those priviledges may extend to this Brat of mine, which is no lesse ridiculous, is the ambition of,
SIR,
Your grateful Servant and great Honourer ALEX. BROME.
To the Reader.
TO the Collection of these Papers two accidents have concurr'd; a lozy disease, and a long vacation: the one inclining me to doe nothing else, and the other affording me nothing else to doe.
To their publication I might alledge several reasons; namely, gratification of Friends, importunity, prevention of spurious Impressions. But these are in Print already in many grave Authors, with exact formula's to express the bashfulness of the Author, and the badness of the work, &c.
There are another sort of reasons, not express'd but impli'd; as, an ambition to be in Print, to have a Face cut in Copper, with a Lawrel about my head, a Motto and Verses underneath, made by my self [Page] in my own commendation, and to be accompted a Wit, and call'd a Poet.
But, to say the truth, none of all these prevailed with me; for I made few of my Friends acquainted with the design; and these few told me, I should expose my self to the censure of the new Generation of JUDGE-WITS; who, like Committee-men, or black-Witches in Poetry, are created only to doe mischief. Nor did I fear any illegitimate Impression hereof, conceiving that no body would be at the charge of it. And to gratifie friends this way, were instead of quitting [...] obligations, to create new.
Now as to the honour of being in print, with its priviledges, 'tis much like being a Parliament-man; those that deserve it, need not court it, but will be so, whether they desire it or not; those that merit it not, may come in by purchase; such [...]uthors, like Men that beget Daughters, must give portions to be rid of their issue.
[Page]These reasons being laid aside, as deficient, it will be expected that I should present you with better, but indeed I have them not about me; and for that reason, I am bold to affirm, that I am not bound, in strictness, to give any man any reason for doing this. For why I made these rambles, I can give no other accompt then a poor man does, why he gets Children; that is his pleasure, and this mine. And as with him in his case, 'tis with me in mine; having brought our Brats into the World, 'tis our duty to provide for their preservation.
I dare not say these Poems are good, nor do I certainly know whether they be or not; for the Wits are not yet agreed of a standard; nor shall I declare them bad, least others out of respect to me, should be of the same opinion.
But this I assure you, that I have been told to my face, that they are good, and was such a fond fool to believe it; else [Page] you may be confident, they had ne're been exposed to view; for upon my credit, I have no ambition to be laught at. And 'twere a great disingenuity to offer that to my Friends, which I my self should dislike.
All that is terrible in this case, is, that the Author may be laught at, and the Stationer begger'd by the Books invendibility. It concerns him to look to the one, I am provided against the other. For 'tis as unkind and unmanly to abuse me for being a bad Poet, as it is to raile at a Dwarfe for being little and weak: it being my desire to be as good as any that can jeer me; and if I come short by the Head, who can help it? yet I desire to be thus far ingenuous, to let the World know, though they may esteem or call me a Poet, by this they may see I am none, or at least so mean a one, that 'twere better I were none.
To beg acceptance of this, upon the [Page] old promise of never Writing more, were to make the publishing this a wilful sin, which I shan't commit. And though at present I resolve against incumbring my thoughts with such unprofitable meditations; yet I will ne're abjure them; being no more able to perform vowes never to Write again, then Widows theirs never to Marry again.
And now, being taught by custome, to beg something of the Reader, it shall be this; that in reading and judging these Poems, he will consider his own frailty, and fallibility; and read with the same temper and apprehension, as if himself had written, and I were to judge: and if he cannot find matter here to please himself and love me, let him pitty my disastrous fate, that threw me into this sad distemper of rythming.
But as to the men of a severer brow, who may be scandaliz'd at this free way [Page] of writing, I desire them to conceive those Odes which may seem wild and extravagant, not to be Idea's of my own mind, but Characters of divers humours set out in their own persons. [...]nd what reflected on the Times, to be but expressions of what was thought and designed by the persons represented; there being no safe way to reprove vices then r [...]ging among us, but to lash them smilingly.
Perhaps it may be expected I should have interlarded this address with ends of Latine, to declare my self a Schollar. But the reason why I do not, is because by this late happy change I shall have occasion to employ that little Latine I have to a better use, and make it more advantagious to me.
Farewell.
To his honoured Friend Mr. ALEXANDER BROME, on the publishing his Poems.
SIR,
YOur ingenuous Book you were pleased to trust with me, had before this time come to your hands, had I either sooner known of your retur [...] to London, or found an handsome opportunity of conveying it thither with safety. Though your modesty i [...] pleased to invite Censure, I find it is more then your great felicity in this way of Poetry can be liable to: Nor should I have thought those two or three slight Animadversions here inclosed, to have been worth the mentioning, were it not that I would have you believe I use such freedome with you, as to have done more if I had found occasion: though I doubt not but you have or will communicate these Papers to some other friends of more refined judgement then I ca [...] pretend to. This I am sure, that by publishing of them yo [...] will oblige, not onely all Men, but some of the Gods; especially your Name-sake Bacchus (called also Bromius) whose worth your wit hath so much advanced, that, though Excise should cease, we should in pure conscience think we could not purchase him at too dear a rate. Cupid himself who hath hitherto exercised chief dominion in Poetry now vails Bonnet to Him; were it not, that, whilst you s [...] handsomely magnifie the power of Wine, your Readers ar [...] forced to fall in Love with your Muse: and, amongst them none more affectionately, then
SIR,
Your most obliged humble Servant R. B.
To the Ingenious Author Mr. Alexand. Brome.
PRaise is the shade of
Vertue, and ne're fell
Into contempt, till Men ceas'd to do well.
'Twas
profit spoyld the world. Till then (we know it,)
The
Usnrer strook sayles unto the
Poet.
Kings Envyed them their
bayes; for though the Crown
Had more of
Iustre, it had less
renown.
Then be thou (
Brome) my
Subject; Thou whose mind
Large, as the bounds of
Nature, hath
calcin'd
Things high and low, and drawn conceptions thence,
Which
Adam scarcely knew in's Innocence,
T' adorn thy
style, and feed poetick fire,
And make thy high-flown
Raptures to fly higher:
What can be thought or said to set thee forth?
Or what
Embellishment can guild thy worth?
Great Merits (like good
Claret)
need no sign
(Who ere proclaimed that the
Sun did shine?)
'Tis easie to
begin, and hard to
end;
When but to speak thy
Name, is to
commend.
But leave I thee the
Fountain; for the
stream,
Thy book, is now my more peculiar Theame,
The Scene of
Wine and
Women. Thy smart pen
Refines our Loves, and liquors o're agen,
And teaches us new lessons. Shall I whine
To a coy
Mistress, swear, and lye, and pine,
And dye, and live again, and change more shape
[...],
Then
Proteus did, or four and forty
Apes,
To win my loss of
Liberty, when I,
Enthron'd by
fancy in true
Soveraignty,
[Page]Can out of
nothing, whensoere I please,
Create a million of such
Mistresses?
And write a
Sonnet to my Aiery she,
Or steal a better Sonnet (
Brome) from Thee?
No, No, for know my loves best
bill of Dyet
Is first free
thoughts, the next is to be
quiet.
Hence too I'll quit the
Taverns, for I find
No
Wine is like the
Nectar of the Mind.
Conceit is a good
Cellar; Here we may
Drink without sin, and
spend without
Decay,
And frolick and be merry; Or else we
May read thy book, and
tipple Poetry;
And sing the prayses of the nobler
Vine,
And send a health to the great God of
Wine.
This, This, is pleasure, and
cheap too, that's better,
For know the
Muse is apt to be a debtor.
All this we learn from thee; go on, and be
A miracle in future History.
Thou shew'st us mirth, and nobler waies to woe;
And Vindicatest thy
profession too.
If
Law and
Business can produce such strains,
Wee'l owe no
Wit to leisure, but to Brains.
W. Paulet E medio Templo.
To the Ingenious Author Mr. A. B.
HOw! how! what miracles in print?
A Poem with the
Politicks in't?
'Tis strange, but I will not rehearse
All the
Probatums of thy verse.
This only; when the nose and Bum
Had frighted all our miseries dumb,
[Page]When force hag-rid our Land and Seas,
Had made lawes truths
Antipodes;
When treason, (like the bloud) was found
To circulate all
England round;
Thou (
Brome) to cure the Kingdoms wrong
Didst hatch new
loyalty with a
song.
Musick (as once
Saul's eldest Devil)
Fetter'd
Rebellious rampant evil;
Rhime oft times over-reaches
reason;
A verse will counter-charm a
Treason.
Had
Cromwel learn't the grace to sing,
H'had fled to
Heaven for his
King.
Rob. Napeir Emedio Templo.
To my ingenious Friend Mr.
Brome, on his various and excellent Poems: An humble Eglog.
Daman
and Dorus.
Written the 29. of
May, 1660.
Daman.
HAll happy day!
Dorus sit down:
Now let no sigh, nor let a frown
Lodge near thy heart, or on thy brow.
The
King! the
King's return'd! and now
Let's banish all sad thoughts, and sing
We have our Laws, and have our King.
Dorus.
[Page]
'Tis true, and I would sing, but oh!
These wars have sunk my heart so low
'Twill not be rais'd.
Daman.
What not this day?
Why 'tis the
twenty ninth of May:
Let
Rebels spirits sink; let those
That like the
Goths and
Vandals rose
To ruine families, and bring
Contempt upon our
Church, our
King,
And all that's dear to us, be sad;
But be not thou, let us be glad.
And
Dorus, to invite thee, look,
Here's a Collection in this book,
Of all those chearful songs, that we
Have sung so oft and merilie
As we have march'd to fight the cause
Of
Gods Anointed, and our
Laws:
Such songs as make not the least ods
Betwixt us
mortals and the
Gods:
Such songs as
Virgins need not fear
To sing, or a grave
Matron hear.
Here's
love drest
neat, and
chast, and
gay
As
gardens in the month of
May;
Here's harmony, and
Wit, and
Art,
To raise thy
thoughts, and chear thy
heart.
Dorus.
Written by whom?
Daman.
A friend of mine,
And one that's worthy to be thine:
A Civil
swain, that knows his times
For business, and that done makes rhimes;
[Page]But not till then: my Friend's a man
Lov'd by the Muses; dear to
Pan:
He blest him with a chearful heart:
And they with this sharp wit and art,
Which he so tempers, as no
Swain,
That's loyal, does or should complain.
Dorus.
I wou'd fain see him:
Daman.
Go with me
Dorus, to yonder broad
beech-tree,
There we shall meet him and
Phillis,
Perrigot, and
Amaryllis,
Tityrus, and his dear
Clora,
Tom and
Will, and their
Pastora:
There wee'l dance, shake hands and sing,
We have our Laws,
God bless the King.
Iz. Walton.
To my worthy Friend Mr. Alex. Brome.
WIne ne're to run more clear through quill was, made
Then through thine is the praise of it convey'd;
And as by
Xeuxis grapes so painted were,
That even birds to peck at them drew near;
So, who thy lively Poems see, will think
That as they read of Grapes the juice, they drink:
Thou doest not treat us with short
Epigrams,
Like
Usurers glasses, only holding drams;
[Page]But in thy Songs thy wit is copious found,
As Wine in
Conduits when a King is crown'd.
There strength of fancy, to it sweetness joynes,
Unmixt with water, nor st
[...]m'd with strong lines.
The
lover who in many a frosty night,
Did
Serenade, his Mistress out of sight,
And to his
Gitthar songs most doleful howle
In consort with the
Bell-man and the
Owle,
Now takes his
Brimmer off, and to her flies,
Singing thy
Rhimes, and straight she is his prize.
She doth no more her
Red-nos'd lover scorn,
But fairer thinks than blushes of the morn;
And would have
Hymens torches lighted be
By th' nose, that's a
Linck-boy compar'd by thee.
He tells her no part of a woman ought
Unto Starrs,
Sun, globes, roses like be thought:
But that th
[...]se names which raise so high a pride,
Are but to
Taverns fit to be apply'd.
A Countrey Parson i'th' Rumps reign did woe
His auditory
Honestly to do,
And wear brave souls, which he enforc'd by those
Thy
songs only reform'd by him to prose,
Which he had heard at
market over night:
Thus do thy fancies
profit and
delight.
Carry the cause then for this
man is black,
That he may have from
Vintners Tithes of Sack;
Wherein he will not crave so much, as did
The
Levite who some of his Parish bid;
That sail'd to
Green-land that they should not fail
Thence of their prey to bring him the tenth Whale.
But to reward him higher, let him get
Tithes of thy muse, and so be out of's debt.
And now me thinks, while thou abroad dost shew
Thy self in print to the
Worlds open view,
[Page]From all that
wear brave souls no voyce doth stir,
But
welcome Sir, y'are kindly welcome Sir.
Yet if the
envious at thee do repine,
They shall be but like
flies drown'd in thy
Wine.
C. W.
To his dear friend Mr. Alex. Brome, upon the publishing his Poems.
MY kind
Affections will shew forth thy
wit,
Although't be by a simple
opposite;
For thou preventest all
Ingenuous pro
[...]ms,
Ingrossing all the wit within thy
Poems;
But yet there's something left for me to do,
Which would bo folly if perform'd by you:
And that's to
praise
[...]oth thee, and them, whose glory
Shall reign with thy loyal Congratulatory
And daring
Speech, made in
Clothworkers-Hall,
Which overcame, and made the
General,
Who made us all, by making all his men,
Rank as they were, to bring our Kings agen,
By being subject to our Lawful
Prince,
Whose damned
Exile, made us
Slaves e're since:
And so confin'd thy
fancy, that thy Fame
(Till his return was) kept without a
Name.
Though thou hast been Libellish all these times,
Against the changing
Powers; yet some Crimes
Thou didst conceal, which did thy prudence shew,
To keep their vices for their overthrow;
Reserving still some strength as a redoubt,
Fearing the
Rumpish rear might face about;
[Page]And made our Kings
de facto, and of right
In
Charles the Second justly to unite;
Who soon inlarg'd thy Muse, which free,
Hath bound us to our Laws for liberty:
To whom I do subscribe, (since our Commander,
In name's as good as is Great
Alexander).
Cha. Steynings.
To his Ingenious Friend Mr. A. B. upon his most excellent Poems.
IN our late
Chaos, when the
giddy world
Was to th'
Abysse of curs'd Rebellion hurl'd▪
And its distemper'd
Pilots did advance
Nothing but
dull and sordid
Ignorance;
When to be either
learn'd, or
witty, gave
Occasion to make
this or
t'other slave:
Then Atlas -like
thou didst that world sustain,
Destin'd to thrive by thy
Poetick-brain.
Divinity we there saw
stifled, and
The
Law was only practis'd
under-hand:
The Glory of our
School eclips'd; a shade,
No
life, nor
Beauty gave, but
Horrour had
All
Modes and
Methods Ravish'd from our eye,
To cancel Name of
King and
Loyalty;
For each of which, thou mad'st a fit supply,
As some instruct their
Boyes by
Poe
[...]ie.
Nay
Millions more had driven with that stream,
Had not thy
sense and
light diverted them,
But Thy
Prophetick Numbers made them stay;
And did re-animate their spirits here,
Fore-telling them their
Sun would once uppear.
Most of the younger
Fry, that
never saw
A
Crown or
Gospel flourish with the
Law,
Had been deprav'd in soul, but that the
Starre
(Thy Lines put forth) directed how and where
They ought to worship, so they were kept free
From the
Times guilt, others
Apostacie.
The
puisne Law-wrights too may spare to look
On this grave Sirs reports, or t'others Book
For what's
Authentique, but (at will) from thee,
May freight their
Skuls with
Law's Epitomie:
And henceforth we shall have them cease to Bawl
Cook upon
Littleton, but
Brome on all.
The
Brethren of the
Crowd throughout the Town,
Who lost their time to keep't, were out of Tune
More than their Instruments; as if their
Arts
Were meerly but to
play, not
play their
parts,
Till furnish'd with a
Song or two from
you;
Then they grew
proud upon't, and
wealthy too;
Nor was't ill husbandry, or either's wrong,
To
give, or
get their money
for a Song.
We find in every
Science, Art, or Trade,
Ambition some
Competitors has made;
But here
THOU art particular, and like,
For
Poesie, as
Painting was
Vandyke.
[Page]Such
reputation hast thou gain'd, that when
A
piece of Wit has by some other Men
Been richly cloath'd, and spoken;
Hear their dooms,
Upon our lives, 'Tis
Alexander Brome's.
But———
As
Pictures by their soyles seem better drest,
I can but be, Thy
Blackamore at Best.
Valentine Oldis.
For his much honoured Friend Mr. Alexander Brome.
Honoured Sir,
YOur ingenious Letter which came to my hands long after its date, had sooner received an Answer, if my frequent absence, and many haesitations between Willingness and Inability to serve you, had not caused this respite. And now let me tell you my opinion; that, though Elogies upon Authors are at no time necessary, yet I think them never more superfluous, than when Verses are commended with more Verses; which if they be better, disparage their Friend; if worse Themselves. We know it is against a Rule of Art to lay Metal upon Metal, and that Cook who besprinkles the borders of his dish with the same meat which it contains, will be thought rather to dawb then garnish it. I am sure it will be so here, with your curious entertainment, unto which the Reader must needs come with such an eager Appetite, as to reproach, or at least neglect, all that stands in his way. And I should much wonder why [Page] you would be such a Mezentius to your self, as to bind my dead Muse to your own living one; but that I suppose, being secure of immortality, you are proof against all contagion. Had you laid this command upon me, when you favoured me with the per [...]sal of your Book, those brisk and frolick airs might have so volatiliz'd my thoughts, that it had been as easie for me to write, as for the beasts to dance when they heard Orpheus's Harp. But now you bid me be warm, when you have long since withdrawn the fire: and call me to a work unto which my pen is so much a stranger, that it is now many years since I made a verse in English. Believe it Sir, 'tis to me as great a Metamorphosis, as when a City was turn'd into a Bird, on a sudden, to lay by all that is solid and severe, and soar aloft in the airy waies of Fancy, led only by the tinkling of Rhymes, as Bees by the noyse of a Candlestick: At present, I am sure, whilest business is much upon me, I am charm'd against such transmutations. You that are a wonder your self in this kind, would be less so, if any were like you; that can reconcile Poetry with Westminster-Hall, where nothing of a fine spinning (not so much as Cobwebs, they say) can have a place: that can swallow down the rank phrases of our Law, like so many heads of Garlick, next your heart in a morning; and before night breath forth soft and Jovial airs, surpassing the most captivated votaries of Love or Wine: these are toss'd about like the Sibylls prophetick leaves, and at length you find them crowning every Feast, and dancing on the lips of every Lady. But for mine own part, if perhaps I have been found of late amongst our Academical Versifyers, it was but as Cleaveland's Presbyterian danced, only— in obedience to the Ordinance. For you must know, that Doctors appear in Verse, as old men sometimes [Page] have done in a Morris, not so much for ostentation of Ability, as for uncouthness of the sight, and to shew how ready they are to be laught at for his Majesties service. And I could tell some who would censure me for levity, should they see me play the Poet in such good company as yours, who yet call upon me to do the same here, where I am to be dull by my place. In short Sir, if it be necessary that such a Champion as you should not come forth into the field without your Dwarf, I heartily wish I were able to serve you in that condition: However, give me leave I pray you to remain in downright Prose
Sir,
Your assured Friend and most humble Servant, H. T.
POEMS.
SONG I. Plain Dealing.
1.
WEll, well, 'tis true,
I am now fal'n in Love,
And 'tis with You:
And now I plainly see,
While you're
enthron'd by me above,
You all your
arts and
pow'rs improve
To
Tyrant over me;
And make
my flames th'Incentives of
your Scorn,
While you
rejoyce, and
feast your Eyes to see me thus forlorn.
2.
But yet be wise,
And don't believe, that I
Did think your
Eyes
More bright than
Stars can be;
Or that your
Face Angels out-vies
In their
Coelestial Liveries
'Twas all but
Poëtrie.
[Page 2]I could have said as much by any
She,
You are not
beauteous of
your self, but are made so by
me.
3.
Though
we, like Fools,
Fathom the
Earth and
Skie,
And drein the
Schools
For names t'express
you by:
Out-rant the lowd'st
Hyperboles
To dub the
Saints, and
Deities,
By
Cupid's Heraldry:
We know you're
Flesh and
Bloud as well as
Men,
And when we will can
mortalize, and make you so agen.
4.
Yet, since my
Fate
Has drawn me to
this Sin,
Which I did
hate,
I'll not my labour lose:
But will
love on, as I begin,
To th' purpose, now my hand is in,
'Spite of those
Arts you use;
And let you know, the
World is not so bare,
There's Things enough to love, besides such
Toyes as
Ladies are.
5.
I'll love
good Wine;
I'll love my
Book and
Muse,
Nay all the Nine;
I'll Love my
real Friend;
I'll Love my
Horse; and, could I chuse
One, that would not my
Love abuse,
To
her my Heart should bend.
I'll love all those, that
laugh, and those, that
sing;
I'll love my
Countrey, Prince, and
Laws; and those, that love the
King.
SONG II. The Indifferent.
1.
MIstake me not, I am not of that mind
To hate all
woman kind;
Nor can you so my
patience vex;
To make my
Muse blaspheme your sex,
Nor with my
Satyrs bite you;
Though there are some in your free-
State.
Some things in you, who're
Candidate,
That he who
is, or
loves himself, must hate;
Yet I'll not therefore
slight you.
For I'm a
Schismatick in Love,
And what makes
most abhorr it,
In me does more
affection move,
And I
love the better for it.
2.
I vow, I am so far from loving
none,
That I
love every one;
If
fair I must, if
brown she be,
She's
lovely, and for
Sympathy,
'Cause we're alike, I love her;
If
tall, she's
proper; and if
short,
She's
humble, and I love her for't:
Small's pretty,
fat is pleasant, every sort
Some graceful
good discover;
If
young, she's pliant to the sport;
And if her
visage carry
Gray hairs and
wrinkles, yet I'll court,
And so turn
Antiquary.
3.
Be her hair
red, be her lips
gray or
blew,
Or any other
hew,
Or has she but the
ruins of a
nose,
Or but
eye-sockets, I'll love those;
Though
scales, not
skin, does
clothe her,
Though from her
lungs, the
scent that comes
Does
Rowt her
teeth out of their
gums;
I'll count all these for high
Encominms,
Nor will I therefore
loath her.
There are no
rules for beauty, but
'Tis as our fancies make it:
Be you but
kind, I'll think you
fair,
And all for truth shall take it.
SONG III. The Resolve.
1.
TEll me not of a
face that's fair,
Nor
lip and
cheek that's
red,
Nor of the
tresses of her
hair,
Nor
curles in order laid;
Nor of a rare
seraphick voice,
That like an
Angel sings;
Though if I were to take my
choice,
I would have all these things▪
But if thou wilt have me
love
And it must be a she,
The only
argument can move
Is, that she will love me.
2.
The glories of your
Ladies be
But
Metaphors of things;
And but resemble what we see
Each common
object brings.
Roses out-red their
lips and
cheeks,
Lillies their
whiteness stain:
What fool is he that
shadows seeks
And may the
substance gain?
Then if thou'lt have me love a
Lass
Let it be one that's kind,
Else I'm a
servant to the
glass
That's with
Canary lin'd.
SONG IV. The Wary Woer.
1.
FAith, you're mistaken, I'll not
love
That face that
frowns on me,
Though it be handsom, 't shall not move
My
center'd soul that's far above
The
magick of a paint,
That on a
Devil writes a
Saint:
I hate your
Pictures and
Imagery.
I'm no love-
Sinon, nor will tamely now
Lie
swadled in the trenches of your
brow.
2.
Though you are
witty what care I?
My danger is the more;
Nay should you boast of
honesty,
Woman gives all those names the
Lie:
[Page 6]In all you hardly can
Write after that fair copy,
Man▪
And
dabble in the steps we've gone before.
We you
admire, as we do
parots all
Not speaking well, but that they
speak' at all.
3.
That
Lass mine arms desire t'enfold,
Born in the
golden age,
Guarded with
Angels, but of Gold,
She that's in such a
showre enroll'd
May tempt a
Jove to be
Guilty of Loves Idolatry,
And make a pleasure of an
Hermitage;
Though their teeth are not, if their
necks wear
pea
[...] ▪
A
Kitchin-wench is Consort for an
Earl.
4.
'Tis money makes the man, you say,
'T shall make the
Woman too;
When both are clad in like aray
December rivals youthful
May:
This rules the
World, and this
Perfection of both Sexes is;
This
Flora made a Goddess, so 'twill you:
This makes us
laugh, this makes us
drink and
sing;
This makes the
beggar trample o're his King.
SONG V. The Counsel.
1.
WHy's my
friend so
melancholy?
Prithe why so
sad, why so
sad?
Beauty's vain, and
Love's a folly,
To him that has a heart that's jolly
Nothing's grievous,
Nothing's sad.
Come, cheer up my
La
[...].
2.
Does thy
mistress seem to fly thee?
Prithee don't
repine, don't
repine:
If at first she does deny thee
Of her love, deny her thine;
She shews her
coyness but to try thee,
And will
triumph if thou
pine.
Drown thy thoughts in
wine.
3.
Try again, and don't give over,
Ply her, she's thine
own, she's thine
own;
Cowardise undoes a
Lover
They are
Tyrants if you moan;
If not thy
self, nor
love can move her,
But she'll
slight thee and be gone:
Let her then alone.
4.
If thy courtship can't invite her,
Nor to condescend, nor to bend;
Thy only wisdome is to
slight her,
And her
beauty discommend.
Such a
niceness will requite her;
Yet if thy
Love will not end,
Love thy
self and
friend.
SONG VI. To his Mistress.
1.
LAdy you'l wonder when you see
With those bright
twins of eyes,
These
ragged lines that
[...]r
[...]wle from me,
And note the contrariety
That both in them and in their
Author lies:
2.
I that came hither with a breast
Coated with
Male about;
Proof 'gainst your beauty, and the rest,
And had no room for
Love to nest,
Where
reason lodg'd within, and
love kept out.
3.
My thoughts turn'd like the needle, about,
Touch'd by
Magnetick love:
And fain would find some
North-pole out,
But waver'd 'twixt
desire and
doubt;
Till now they're fixt, and point to you above.
4.
Lend me one
Ray, and do but
shine
Upon my verse, and me;
Your
beauty can
enrich a line,
And so you'l make 'um yours, not mine;
Since there's no
Helicon like love and thee.
SONG. VII. To his Mistress.
1.
WHy dost thou frown my dear, on me?
Come
change that angry face.
What though I kist that
Prodigie,
And did her ugly limbs embrace?
'Twas only 'cause
thou wert in place.
2.
Had I suck't poyson from her breath,
One kiss could set me free:
Thy lip's an
Antidote 'gainst Death;
Nor would I ever wish to be
Cur'd of a
sickness but by thee.
3.
The little birds for dirt repair
Down from the purer skie,
And shall not I kiss foul and fair?
Wilt thou give
Birds more pow'r than I?
Fye, 'tis a
scrupulous nicety.
4.
When all the
World I've rang'd about,
All
beauties else to spy,
And, at the last, can find none out,
Equal to thee in beauty; I
Will make thee my sole
Deity.
SONG VIII. The hard Heart.
1.
STill so
hard-hearted? what may be
The sin thou hast committed?
That now the angry
Deity
Has to a
Rock congealed thee,
And thus thy
hardness fitted?
To make one act both
sin and
curse,
And plague thy
hardness with a
worse.
2.
Till thee there never was but one
Was to a
Rock translated,
Poor
Niobe that weeping stone:
She ever did, thou ne're dost moan,
Nor is thy scorn abated.
The
tears I send to thee are grown
Of that same nature, and turn
stone.
3.
Yet I, dear
Rock, must worship thee,
Love works this
superstition,
And justifies the
Idolatry
That's shown to such a
stone as thee,
Where it fore-runs
fruition.
Thou'rt so
magnetick, that I can
No more leave thee, than to be
Man.
4.
But thou, I warrant thee, dost suppose
This new
design will
slay me,
And
r
[...]vel out my life with
woes
Till death, at last, mine eyes shall close;
Then in thy breast thou'lt lay me,
[Page 11]That all may read,
lo here I lye
T
[...]b'd in thy heart, slain by thine eye.
5.
But I, I vow, will be more wise,
And love with such discretion;
When I read coyness in thy eyes,
I'll
robe mine with like cruelties,
And kill with
prepossession.
Then I'll turn
stone, and so will be
An endless
monument to thee.
SONG. IX. Loves Anarchy.
1.
LOve, I must tell thee, I'll no longer be
A
Victime to thy beardless
Deity:
Nor shall this heart of mine,
Now 'tis return'd,
Be offered at thy
shrine,
Or at thine
Altar burn'd▪
Love, like
Religion's made an
airy name,
To awe those souls whom want of wit makes
tame.
2.
There's no such thing as
Quiver, Shafts, or
Bow,
Nor does
Love wound, but men imagine so.
Or if it does perplex
And grieve the mind,
'Tis the poor
masculine Sex:
Women no
sorrows find.
[Page 12]'Tis not our persons, nor our parts, can move 'um,
Nor is't mens
worth, but
wealth, makes Ladies love 'um.
3.
Reason henceforth, not
love, shall be my guide,
My fellow-creatures sha'nt be
Deisi'd;
I'll now rebel be,
And so pull down
That
Distaff-Monarchy,
And
Females fancy'd
crown.
In these
unbridled times who would not strive
To free his
neck from all
prerogative?
SONG X. The Libertine.
1.
PErswade me not, I vow I'll
love no more,
My
heart has now ta'n
quarter;
My
fetters I'll no more adore,
Nor madly run, as heretofore,
To break my freedoms
Charter:
He, that once fails, may try again;
But who so often fool'd has bin,
And still attempts, commits a
triple sin:
He's his own humours
Martyr.
I'll use my
liberty to run
Abroad, and still be
choosing:
Who would
confine himself to one
That has power of refusing?
2.
The unconfined
Bee, we see, has power,
To
kiss and
feel each flower;
Nor is his
pleasure limited
To th' ruines of one
maidenhead,
Nor ty'd to ones
embraces:
But having's will of one, he'll fly
T'another, and there load his thigh.
Why should he have more priviledge than I?
Since both our amorous cases
Differ in this alone; his
thighs,
When he abroad doth rome,
Loaden with spoyls return, But mine
Come
weak and
empty home.
3.
The self same
beauty that I've often sworn
Dwelt only in my dearest,
I see by other
Ladies worn,
Whom the same
Graces do adorn:
I like that
face that's nearest.
This I
salute, and
walk with that;
With this I
sing, with t'other
chat,
I've none to
Catechize me
where? or
what?
Nor will be ty'd t' a Querist.
Thus out of all,
Pigmalion like,
My fancy limns a woman;
To her I freely sacrifice,
And
rival'd am by no man.
SONG. XI. The Contrary.
1.
NAy prithee do, be
coy and slight me,
I must love, though thou abhor it,
This pretty
niceness does invite me:
Scorn me, and I'll love thee for it.
That
World of beauty that is in you,
I'll overcome like
Alexander.
In amorous flames I can continue
Unsing'd, and prove a
Salamander.
2.
Do not be won too soon I prethee,
But let me
woe, whilest thou dost fly me.
'Tis my delight to dally with thee,
I'll court thee still if thou'
[...]t deny me:
For there's no happiness but
loving,
Enjoyment makes our pleasures
[...]lat;
Give me the heart that's alwaies moving,
And's not confin'd t' one,
you know what.
3.
I've fresh
supplies on all occasions,
Of thoughts, as
Various as your face is,
No
Directory for evasions,
Nor will I court by
common-places.
My heart's with Antidotes provided,
Nor will I dye 'cause you frown on me;
I'm merry when I am derided,
When you laugh at me, or upon me.
4.
'Tis
fancy that creates those pleasures
That have no being but conceited;
And when we come to dig those treasures,
We see our selves our selves have cheated:
But if th'ar
[...] minded to destroy me,
Then love me much, and love me ever,
I'll love thee
more, and that may slay me,
So
I
[...]hy Martyr am, or never.
SONG XII. The Young Lover.
1.
TUsh! never tell me, I'm too
young
For loving, or too
Green,
She staies at least seven years too long
That's wedded at
fourteen.
Age and
Discretion fit
Grave
Matrons, whose desires and
youths are past.
Love needs not, nor has
wit.
They in whose youthful breast dwels nought but frost
Can only mourn the
daies, and
joyes, they've lost.
2.
Lambs bring forth
Lambs, and
Doves bring
Doves
As soon as they'r begotten:
Then why should
Ladies linger
loves,
As if not ripe till rotten.
'Tis envious age pe
[...]wades
This tedious heresie for men to
[...]oe
Stale
Ni
[...]phs and
Vestal maids,
While they in modesty must answer
No.
Late
Love, like late
Repentance, seldom's true.
3.
Gray hairs are fitter for the
Grave
Than for the
bridal bed;
What pleasure can a lover have
In a wither'd
Maidenhead?
Dry bones and rotten limbs
Make
Hymen's Temple turn an Hospital:
Age all our beauty dims.
Though
Lands must not till one and twenty fall,
The laws to
love prescribe no time at all.
4.
Nature's exalted in our time;
And what our
Grandames then
At
four and
twenty scarce could climbe,
We can arrive at
ten.
Youth of it self doth bring us
Provocatives within, and we do scorn
Love-powders and
Eringoes.
Cupid himself's a
childe, and 'twill be sworn,
Lovers like
Poets, are not
made, but
born.
SONG XIII. To his Mistress.
1.
MY
Theodora, can those eyes
From whence such glories shine,
Give light to every soul that pryes,
And only be obscur'd to mine,
Who willingly my heart resign,
Enflam'd by you, to be your
sacrifice?
2.
Send out one beam t'enrich my soul,
And chase this gloomy shade,
That does in
clouds about me roul,
And in my breast a
hell has made;
Where
fire still burns, still
flames invade.
And yet lights
pow'r and
comfort both controul.
3.
Then, out of
gratitude, I'll send
Some of my flames to thee,
Thus lovingly our gifts we'll blend;
And both in
joyes shall wealthy be:
And love, though
blind, shall learn to see,
Since you an eye to him and me can lend.
SONG XIII. To a Widow.
1.
NAy, dry (for shame) those
blubber'd eye
[...],
And cease to
sigh that breath away,
Fates are not mov'd with tears and cryes,
Nor formal sighs as vain as they,
Joyes are not
joyes, that alwaies stay,
And constant
pleasures don't delight but
cloy.
2.
Though he be gone, that was your dear,
Must you for ever
mourn and
pine
The Sun that's buried the last Year,
Does now in
newer glory shine.
Your Nuptial joyes and pleasures be
Not dead, but only inherited by me,
3.
Hymen's an Artist, and can do
The next time better than before,
Giants great heights can reach unto,
But on their shoulders
dwarfs reach more.
Men more
refin'd do daily grow,
The nearer to Divinity they go.
4.
Then don't (my dear) thy heart confine,
To one whose
being's past away,
And make me with desires, to pine,
Whilest he must glut, that can't enjoy.
Love's stifled, when it is confin'd,
To this or that; it's object is mankind.
SONG XV. To his Friend that had vow'd Small-Beer.
1.
LEave off fond
Hermite, leave thy vow,
And fall again to
drinking
That
beauty that won't
sack allow,
Is hardly worth thy thinking,
Dry love, or
small, can never hold,
And without
Bacchus, Venus soon grows cold.
2.
Doest think by turning
Anchorite;
Or a dull
Small-Beer sinner.
Thy cold embraces can invite,
Or sprightless
Courtship win her?
No, 'tis
Canary that inspires,
'Tis
Sack, like
Oyle, gives
Flames to am'rous Fires.
3.
This makes thee
chant thy Mistress name,
And to the heav'ns to raise her;
And range this universal frame
For
Epithets to praise her.
Low liquors render brains unwitty,
And ne're provoke to
love, but move to pity.
4.
Then be thy self, and take thy
Glass,
Leave off this dry
Devotion,
Thou must like
Neptune court thy lass,
Wallowing in
Nectars Ocea
[...],
Let's offer at each Ladies
shrine,
A full crown'd bowl, first here's a health to thine.
SONG. XVI. On Claret.
1.
WIthin this
bottle's to be seen,
A scarlet liquor that has been
Born of the royal vine;
We but nick-name it when we call
It
Gods drink, who drink none at all,
No higher name than
Wine
2.
'Tis Ladies liquor: here one might
Feast both his eye and appetite,
With
beauty and with
taste,
Cherries and
Roses which you seek.
Upon your
Mistress lip and
che
[...]k
Are here together plac'
[...].
3.
Physicians may prescribe their whey
To purge our
Reins and
Brains away,
And clarifie the
Bloud;
That cures one sickness with another,
This
routs by
whole-sale altogether,
And drowns them in a floud.
4.
This
Poets makes, else how could I
Thus ramble into
Poetry,
Nay and write Sonnets too;
If there's such pow'r in
junior wines,
To make one venture upon lines
What could
Canary do?
5.
Then
squeeze the vessels
bowels out
And deal it faithfully about,
Crown each hand with a brimmer;
Since we're to pass through this
red Sea,
Our noses shall our
Pilots be
And every soul a swimmer.
SONG XVII. A Mock-Song.
1.
'TIs true, I never was in love:
But now I mean to be,
For there's no art
Can shield a heart
From loves
Supremacie.
2.
Though in my
nonage I have seen
A world of taking faces;
I had not
age nor
wit to
ken
Their several hidden graces.
3.
Those vertues which though thinly set,
In others are admired,
In thee are altogether met,
Which make thee so desired.
4.
That though I never was in
Love
Nor never meant to be
Thy self and parts
Above my arts
Have drawn my heart to thee.
SONG XVIII. Reasons of Love.
1.
PRethee, why dost thou
love me so?
Or is it but in
show?
What is there that your thoughts can
pick about me?
If beauty in my face you view,
'Twas ne're writ there unless by you,
I little find within, nor you without me.
2.
I ha'nt the
Rhetorick of the
foot:
Nor lean long
leg to boot,
Nor can I
court with
congees, trips, and
dances;
I seldom
sing, or if I do,
You'll scarce tell whe'r I
sing or no,
I can't endure
Love-stories and
Romances.
3.
I neither know, nor love to play
And fool my time away;
Nor talk in
Dialects to please your
fancy:
Nor
carve the
Capon or the
Quail,
But
hew it through from
head to
tail,
A
complement to me is
Negromancy.
4.
I boast not of a pedigree,
That
Lords or
Lordlings be,
Nor do I lace my name with
Grandsires story,
Nor will I take the pains to look
For a fools coat i'th'
Heralds book,
My fame's mine own, no monumental glory.
5.
I am not fashion'd of the mode,
Nor rant i'th
Gallants rode,
Nor in my habit do observe
decorum:
Perfumes shall not my breath belie,
Nor clothes my body
glorifie,
They shall derive their honour, 'cause I wore 'um,
6.
No
frizling nor scarce
locks, and yet
Perhaps
more hair than wit:
Nor shall
Sweet-powders vanity delight you;
Though my hairs little, I'le not carry
A wig for an
Auxiliary.
If my
locks can't, anothers shant invite you▪
7.
And which is worse, I cannot woe
With
Gold as others doe,
Nor
bait your love with
Lordships, Lands, and
Towers▪
Just so much money I have by,
As serves to spoil my
poetry,
Not to expose me to the higher powers.
8.
Nay you shan't make a fool of me,
Though I no
Statist be,
Nor shall I be so valiant to fight for ye,
I han't the
patience to court,
Nor did I e're do't, but in sport,
I won't run mad for love, nor yet go marry.
9.
And yet I know some cause does move,
Though it be not pure love
'Tis for your honours sake that you affect me;
For well you know, she that's my
Lass,
Is
canoniz'd in every
glass,
And her health's drunk, by all that do respect me.
10.
Then love thou on, I'le tipple till
Both of us have our
fill,
And so thy name shall never be forgotten;
I'll make thee
Hellen's fame survive,
Though she be dead and thou alive,
For though thou'rt not so old, thy heart's as rotten.
SONG XIX. Epithalamy.
1.
NAy fie,
Platonicks still adoring,
The fond
Chymaera's of your brain?
Still on that empty nothing poring?
And only follow what you faign?
Live in your humour, 'tis a curse
So bad, 'twere pity wish a worse.
We'll banish such conceits as those,
[Page 24]Since he that has
enjoyment knows,
More bliss, then
Plato could suppose.
2.
Cashiered woers, whose low merit
Could ne're arrive at nuptial bliss,
Turn
Schismaticks in love, whose spirit
Would have none
hit 'cause they do
miss.
But those reproaches that they vent
Do only blaze their discontent.
Condemn'd mens words no truth can show,
And
Hunters when they prove too slow,
Cry
Hares are dry meat, let 'um go.
3.
Th' inamour'd
youth, whose flaming breast
Makes
Goddesses and
Angels all;
In's contemplation finds no rest,
For all his joyes are
sceptical,
At his fruition flings away
His
Cloris and his
Welladay,
And gladly joyns to fill our Quire.
Who to such happiness aspire
As all must
envy or
admire.
SONG XX. An Ode
of Anacreon
paraphrased.
Beauties force.
I Wonder why Dame
Nature thus
Her various
gifts dispences;
She every
creature else but us
With
arms, or
armour fences.
[Page 25]The
Bull with bended horns she arms;
With hoofs she guards the
Horse;
The
Hare can nimbly run from harms,
All know the
Lyons force.
2.
The
Bird can danger fly on's wing,
She
Fish with fins adorns,
The
Cuckold too, that harmless thing,
His
patience guards, and's
horns.
And
Men she
valiant makes and
wise,
To shun or baffle harms;
But to poor
Women she denies
Armour to give, or arms.
3.
Instead of all, this she does do;
Our
Beauty she bestows,
Which serves for
arms and
armour too,
'Gainst all our pow'rful Foes,
And 'tis no matter, so she doth
Still beautious faces yield
Wee'l conquer
sword and
fire, for both
To beauty leave the field.
SONG XXI. Love's without Reason.
1.
'TIs not my Ladies face that makes me loue her,
Though
beauty there doth rest,
Enough t' inflame the breast
Of one, that never did discover
[Page 26]The
glories of a face before;
But I that have seen
thousands more
See nought in hers, but what in others are,
Only because I think she's
fair, she's
fair.
2.
'Tis not her
vertues, nor those vast
perfections,
That crowd together in her,
Ingage my soul to win her,
For those are only brief
Collections,
Of what's in man in
folio writ;
Which by their imitative wit
Women like
Apes and
Children strive to do;
But we that have the
substance slight the
show.
3.
'Tis not her
birth, her
friends, nor yet her
treasure,
My free-born soul can hold;
For
chains are
chains though gold;
Nor do I
court her for my pleasure,
Nor for that old
Moralitie
Do I
love her, 'cause she loves me?
For that's no
love, but
gratitude, and all
Loves that from
fortunes rise, with
fortunes fall.
4.
If friends, or birth, created love within me,
Then
Princes I'll adore,
And only scorn the
poor,
If vertue or good parts could win me,
I'll turn
Platonick, and ne're vex
My soul with difference of
sex,
And he that loves his
Lady 'cause she's fair,
Delights his
eye, so loves himself, not
her.
5.
Reason and
Wisdom are to love high
treason,
Nor can he truly love,
Whose
flame's not far above,
Then ask no reason for my fires,
For
infinite are my desires.
Something there is moves me to love, and I
Do know I love, but
know not
how, nor
why.
SONG XXII. The Damosel.
1.
SInce
Women are still,
By-pretenders to skill,
Suppos'd to be sway'd by their will,
And not by their judgment nor reason,
Then it shall be mine,
To uphold the design,
In spite of the
hits
Of the fellows call'd
Wits,
That jeer every thing that's in season.
2.
Though youthful I be,
And buxome to see,
And suppos'd to be frolick and free,
And
ripe for the thing you wot on,
I'll not sacrific'd be
To the
Ginger-bread he,
Whose
cloathes are in print
And his hair has butter in't
And his
fancies and
whimseys has got on.
3.
For the
Youth in their bud,
That do sail in the sloud,
[Page 28]Of their active and flaming bloud,
Like furious undertakers;
Are fiery at first,
But have soon done their worst,
Then they shrink their heads in,
And care not a pin
For the
sport, nor yet the
sport-makers.
4.
But give me that he
That is
threescore and
three
And can neither
hear, smell, or
see,
He will serve well enough for a
cover;
He will
tickle, and
touch,
Though his strength be not much,
He can't
do, but desire,
And that kindles his fire,
While he
fathers the sports of a
lover.
5.
O the
tooth without peers!
And the silver hairs!
And the
gouts, and the
coughs of old
years!
I would have such an one for the nonce;
I can
Chronicles find,
In his limbs, and his mind,
While his
face tells the story
Of
memento mori,
With an
Almanack in his bones.
SONG XXIII. A Dialogue.
1.
Amoret.
O For the balmy coral of a lip!
Where I with
kissing Chymistry may sip.
Castalian quaffs of
Nectar to delight me,
And every kiss may to a new invite me.
Oenophil.
Give me a bowl wherein I'll tumble
Bacchus,
To bathe our souls, we'll drink till Sack doth crack us
Midas.
But let my chests groan with the
gilded oar,
Where having much is
prologue unto more.
Oenophil.
Who doats on
beauty, fancies but a toy.
Midas.
Who
Wine adores, does overwhelm his joy.
Oenophil.
And he that gapes for gaudy dirt or treasure,
Still feels desires, but no content nor pleasure.
Chorus.
Then let's unite our
desires, but let
reason be our guide,
What in each is not
found, in all
swels like a
tide.
2.
Amoret.
A beautious
face can a young fancy raise,
And
mirtle glorifies, as well as
Bayes.
Love, like the soul, informs the flesh that's stupid,
Nor can
Apollo more inspire than
Cupid.
Oenophil.
Where full-fraught
cups, with sprightly liquors flow, it
Unwraps your brain, and makes each wight a
Poet.
Midas.
Where boundless treasure raigns 'twil raise the soul,
And wit and love both conquer and controul.
Amoret.
Still give me love, give me my lovely lass.
Oenophil.
I'll count no other mistress, but the glass.
Midas.
But give me
chink, nor love, nor wit shall plague us.
For
Poe and
Hypocrene both vail to
Tagus.
Chorus.
Then let's unite our
desires, but let
reason be our guide
What in each is not
found in all
swels like a
tide.
SONG XXIV. To his Mistress affrighted in the wars.
1.
COme sigh no more, but kiss again,
These troubles shall never trouble me;
Your sighs are but wind, and your sorrows vain;
They'l never the sooner for us agree.
Let
Canons keep roaring
And bullets still fly,
While I am adoring
Thee, my deity.
Hang this wealth! let money flee,
They cannot undo me, while I have thee.
2.
I'll be thy
Champion to defend
Thy person from all these dangers and harms;
No Army's so sure as a real friend,
Nor Castle defends like a lovers arms.
But if I can't daunt 'um,
By valour and might,
Your face shall enchant 'um,
For beauty can fight.
There's no armour can men free
From the naked pow'r of such beauties as thee.
3.
I
Venus serve, a fig for
Mars,
Loves arrows may wound, but neuer kill me;
Me thinks there's no pleasure in bloudy wars,
But I long to be wounded and taken by thee?
When our bullets are kisses,
And our field is a bed,
And the top of our bliss is
A pure maidenhead.
Both will strive to lose the day,
And both shall be conquer'd, yet not run away.
SONG XXV. Upon the Cavaliers departing out of London.
1.
NOw fare thee well
London,
Thou next must be undone,
'Cause thou hast undone us before;
This
cause and this
tyrant,
Had never plaid this high rant,
Were't not for thy
Argent and
Or.
2.
Now we must desert thee,
With the lines that begirt thee,
And the red-coated Saints Domineer,
Who with liberty fool thee,
While a Monster doth rule thee,
And thou feel'st what before thou didst fear:
3.
Now
justice and
freedom
With the
laws that did breed 'um,
Are sent to
Jamaica for gold,
And those that upheld 'um,
Have power but seldom,
For justice is barter'd and sold.
4.
Now the Christian Religion
Must seek a new Region,
And the old Saints give way to the new;
And we that are loyal
Vail to those that destroy all,
When the Christian gives place to the Jew.
5.
But this is our glory
In this wretched story,
Calamities fall on the best;
And those that destroy us
Do better imploy us,
To sing till they are supprest.
SONG XXVI. On the fall of the Prices of Wine.
1.
NOw our thanks to our powers above us,
And to him that above them doth sit,
Who to shew how intirely they love us,
Have found out the way
To repair the decay
Of the famish'd and foundered
Wit,
And new drench the Poetical
Tit.
Chorus.
Welcome desired
August to us
Thou Comfort and delight do'st give us
'Twas
November did undo us,
But 'tis
August does relieve us.
2.
Give's a rowsing beer-glass of Canary,
The half-pint and thimble's our foe;
We will be no more tributary
To the
Spaniards pride,
Nor make
Vintners ride,
When we are not able to go,
Or dare not our faces to show.
Chorus, &c.
3.
We defie now the
Malter and
Hopper,
Whose
Pride would have made us surmise,
Our
Helicon lay in his
Copper;
And He'll sell
wit and
art,
At
three half pence a quart;
[Page 34]And with that he would make us so wise,
To be able to cheat the
Excise.
Chorus, &c.
4.
Let us venture to take the
Canaries,
And then wee'll make
Sack of our own;
For he that those
Islands carries,
Wins the
Indies to boot,
And all
Spain added to't;
The
Turk and the
Pope wee'l not own,
But rule the whole World alone.
Chorus, &c.
5.
'Tis the
means and the
end of our study,
It does make our invention oreflow
While the channel of
ale makes it muddy
A
Mayor or a
Knight
By
bunches may write,
If his theame be the
grape, and by it
Be esteem'd a
Divine and a
wit.
Chorus, &c.
SONG XXVII. The Old Mans Delight.
HO boy, hay boy,
Come come away boy,
And bring me my longing desire,
A Lass that is neat,
And can well do the feat,
When lusty young bloud is on fire.
Let her body be tall,
And her wast be small,
And her age not above eighteen,
Let her care for no bed,
But here let her spread
Her mantle upon the green.
Let her face be faire,
And her brests be bare.
And a voice let her have that can warble,
Let her belly be soft,
But to mount me aloft,
Let her bounding buttocks be marble.
The Addition by
A. B.
Let her have a cherry lip
Where I
Nectar may sip;
Let her eyes be as black as a sloe;
Dangling locks I do love,
So that those hang above,
Are the same with what grows below.
Oh such a bonny Lass
May bring wonders to pass,
And make me grow younger and younger;
And when ere we do part,
She'l be mad at the heart,
That I'm able to tarry no longer.
SONG XXVIII. 'A Dialogue translated.
Q. WHat made
Venus strike her Son?
A.
Cause he loft his bow and quiver.
Q. Where is his bow and quiver gone?
A.
To my Mistress without doubt.
Q. Prithee how came that about?
A.
She did but ask, and he did give her;
For being blind, he easly ers,
And knew not his Mothers face from hers.
Chorus.
Oh blame him not for what he did do;
Which of us all would not err so too?
SONG XXIX. Out of Catallus.
1.
MY
Lesbia, let us live and love,
Let crabbed
Age talk what it will.
The
Sun when down, returns above,
But we, once dead, must be so still.
2.
Kiss me a thousand times, and then
Give me a hundred
kisses more,
Now
kiss a thousand times agen,
Then t'other hundred as before.
3.
Come a third thousand, and to those
Another hundred
kisses fix;
That done, to make the sweeter close,
Wee'l millions of
kisses mix.
4.
And huddle them together so,
That we our selves shan't know how many,
And others can't their number know,
If we should envy'd be by any.
5.
And then, when we have done all this,
That our pleasures may remain,
Wee'l continue on our bliss,
By
unkissing all again.
6.
Thus wee'l love, and thus wee'l live,
While our posting minutes fly,
Wee'l have no time to vex or grieve,
But
kiss and
unkiss till we die.
SONG XXX. The Attempt.
WHy should I blush or be
dismay'd,
To tell you I adore you?
Since
Love's a pow'r, that can't be staid,
But must by all be once obey'd,
And you as well as those before you.
Your beauty hath enchain'd my mind,
O let me not then cruel find.
You which are
fair, and therefore should be kind.
2.
Fair as the light,
pure as the Ray,
That in the gray-ey'd morning
Leaps forth, and propagates a day:
Those glories which in others stray
Meet all in you for your adorning.
Since
nature built that goodly frame,
And
Virtue has inspir'd the same,
Let
love draw
yours to meet my
raging flame.
3.
Joy of my soul, the only thing,
That's my
delight and
glory,
From you alone my love does spring,
If one love may another bring,
'Twill
crown our happy story.
Those fires I burn withall are pure
And Noble, yet too strong t'endure;
'Twas you did
wound, 'tis you that ought to
cure.
SONG XXXI. To a Lady that turned her Cheek.
1.
ANd why this
coyness, Lady mine?
What needs all this adoe?
'Tis but a
swap, my lips for thine,
A gentle touch, and goe.
Nay let such
kisses still be kept,
Let him that is deny'd
Your
lip, and will your
cheek accept,
Lye only by your
side.
2.
I hate to kiss your
druggs and
foiles,
'Tis flesh that I affect,
And you whose art your
nature spoils,
I like not, but suspect.
Pray why's your
mouth more
shie than
mine?
Am't I as
sound as you're?
My
lips let in as much good
wine,
And send out
words as pure.
3.
Expect no
courtship more from me,
Nor words, that you, and I
May in our judgments plainly see,
Make but a ranting lie:
Leave these coy humours and be plain:
Deny, or else be free,
Look not for
love, w'thout
love again,
I'll
kiss, if you'l
kiss me.
SONG XXXII. Practick Love.
1.
PRithee
Caelia tell me, why
Thou
fool'st away thy precious hours,
Beauty fades, and
youth doth fly,
There's no trust to
futurity.
Time present's only in our powers.
She that her present joys doth deser,
Would love at the last, when none will love her,
And so proves her own
Idolater,
2.
Either
love or say you will not,
For
love or
scorn's all one to me,
Diversion's pleasant, though it fill not;
Denials vex us, but they kill not,
We're
murder'd by
credulity,
O 'tis a
Ty
[...]anny still to invite,
The mind, and inrage it with faigned delight,
To raise, and then baffle the
appetite.
3.
If you'ld let me be but quiet,
Not see your
face, nor hear your
name?
Though I can't conquer love. I'ld fly it,
For
absence, business, friends, or
dyet,
Would
quench or else divert my flame:
But you're so
imperious grown, and so cruel,
'Cause you see that my heart is
combustible, you will
Not put out the
fire, but still put in
fuel.
4.
'Twas not your face, nor yet my eye,
That this devouring flame begot,
If either did alone, pray why
Did you not kill, and I not die
Then when we knew each other not?
'Twas their
constellation was my undoing,
You by being beautious, and I by viewing
Paid in contribution to my own ruine.
5.
Come then let's love now while we may,
And let me know what I may trust to,
Desires are murdred by
delay,
Our
youth and
marrow will decay,
And Love, for
want of use, will rust too.
In spite of the story the
Platonist tells,
If it were not in order to something else.
SONG XXXIII. Translated out of French.
1.
NOw I'm
resolv'd to love no more,
But
sleep by Night, and
drink by day:
Your
coyness, Cloris, pray give o'e,
And turn your
tempting eyes away.
From
Ladies I'll withdraw my heart
And fix it only on the
Quart.
2.
I'll place no
happiness of mine
A puling
beauty still to
court
And say she's
glorious and
divine,
The
Vintner makes the better sport.
And when I say my
Dear, my
Heart;
I only mean it to the
Quart.
3.
Love has no more prerogative,
To make me desperate courses take,
Nor me t'an
Hermitage shall drive,
I'll all my vows to th'
goblet make
And if I wear a
Capuchoone
It shall a
Tankard be or none.
Added.
4.
'Tis
Wine alone that cheers the soul,
But
love and
Ladies make us sad;
[Page 42]I'm merry when I court the bowl,
While he that courts the
Madam's mad,
Then Ladies wonder not at me,
For you are
coy, but wine is free.
SONG XXXIV. Translated out of French.
1.
CLymena still
complains of me
And I of her
complain too.
But would you know the cause, why we
This
quarrel did attain to.
'Tis 'cause I am not
true saies she,
And I say that again too.
2.
I cannot choose but wonder why
This lovely
Toy doth blame me,
If my heart wears
inconstancy;
It is but what became me.
Since she was
fickle, why not I?
I'm but as she did
frame me.
3.
Time was I thought our
flames of love,
Would
turn for ever brighter;
But when she did so
faithless prove,
I vow'd I would
requite her,
I quickly did my
flames remove,
And now for ever
slight her.
SONG XXXV. To a Painted Lady.
1.
LEave these
deluding tricks and showes,
Be honest and down-right;
What
Nature did to view expose,
Don't you keep out of sight.
The novice
youth may chance admire,
Your dressings, paints and spells:
But we that are
expert desire
Your
sex for somewhat else.
2.
In your adored
face and
hair,
What vertue could you find,
If
Women were like
Angels fair,
And every man were blind?
You need no
pains or
time to
wast
To set your
beauties forth,
With
oyls, and
paint, and
drugs, that cost
More than the
face is worth.
3.
Nature her self, her own work does
And hates all needless arts,
And all your
artificial showes
Disgrace your
Nat'ral parts.
You're
flesh and
bloud, and so are we,
Let
flesh and
bloud alone,
To Love all
compounds hateful be,
Give me the
pure, or none.
SONG XXXVI. To a coy Lady.
1.
I Prithee leave this peevish fashion,
Don't desire to be high-priz'd,
Love's a
Princely noble passion,
And doth scorn to be despis'd.
Though we say you're fair, you know,
We your
beauty do bestow,
For our
fancy makes you so.
2.
Don't be proud 'cause we adore you,
We do't only for our pleasure,
And those parts in which you glory,
We by
fancy weigh and measure.
When for
Deities you go,
For
Angels, or for
Queens, pray know,
'Tis our
fancy makes you so.
3.
Don't suppose your Majesty
By
Tyranny's best signified,
And your
Angellick natures be.
Distinguish'd only by your
pride.
Tyrants make
Subjects rebels grow,
And
pride makes
Angels Dev'ls below,
And your
pride may make you so.
SONG XXXVII. The Recovery.
1.
HOw
unconcerned I can now
Behold that face of thine!
The
Graces and the
dresses too,
Which both
conspir'd to make thee shine,
And made me think thou wert
divine.
2.
And yet me thinks thou'rt wondrous fair,
But I have no
desires,
Those
Glories in thy face that are,
Kindled not in my heart those
fires,
For that
remains, though this
expires.
3.
Nor was't my
eyes that had such pow'r
To burn my self and you,
For then they'ld every thing devour,
But I do several others view,
Unsing'd, and so don't think it true.
4.
Nay both together could not do't,
Else we had dy'd e're this,
Without some higher pow'r to boot,
Which must rule both, if either miss,
All t'other to no purpose is.
5.
It puzzles my
Philosophy,
To find wherein consists
This
pow'r of love, and tyranny,
Or in a
Lovers eye, or breast
Be't where it will, there let it rest.
SONG XXXVIII. Advice to Caelia.
1.
MY lovely
Caelia, while thou dost enjoy
Beauty and
youth, be sure to use '
um,
And be not fickle, be not coy,
Thy self or
Lovers to destroy.
Since all those
Lillies and those
Roses,
Which
Lovers find, or
love supposes,
To flourish in thy face,
Will tarry but a little space;
And
youth and
beauty are but only lent
To you by
nature, with this good intent,
You should enjoy, but not abuse 'um,
And when
enjoyments may be had, not fondly to refuse 'um.
2.
Let lovers
flatt'ry ne'r prevail with thee;
Nor their oyl'd complements deceive thee,
Their
vows and
protestations be
Too often meer
Hypocrisie:
And those high praises of the witty
May all be costly, but not fit ye,
Or if it true should be
Now what thy
lovers say of thee,
Sickness or age will quickly strip away
Those fading glories of thy youthful
May;
And of thy graces all bereave thee;
Then those that thee
ador'd before will slight thee, and so leave thee.
3.
Then while thou'rt
fair and
yonng, be
kind, but
wise,
Doat not, nor proudly use
denying;
That tempting
toy thy beauty lies
Not in thy
face, but lovers
eyes.
And he that
doats on thee may
smother
His love, 'ith
beauty of another,
Or flying at all game
May
quench, or else
divert his flame.
His
reason too may chance to interpose,
And
love declines as fast as
reason grows.
There is a
knack to find loves treasures
Too young, too old, too nice, too free, too slow, destroys your pleasures.
SONG XXXIX. The Mad Lover.
I Have been in love, and in debt, and in drink
This many and many a year;
And those three are plagues enough one would think
For one poor mortal to bear.
'Twas drink made me fall into Love,
And Love made me run into debt,
And though I have strugled and strugled and strove,
I cannot get out of them yet.
There's nothing but money can cure me,
And rid me of all my pain.
'Twil pay all my debts,
And remove all my lets,
[Page 48]And my Mistris that cannot endure me,
Will love me, and love me again,
Then I'll fall to loving and drinking amain.
SONG XL. The Murmurer.
1.
LEt's lay aside plotting and thinking,
And medling with matters of State,
Since we have the freedome of drinking,
'Tis a folly to scribble or prate.
The great ones have nothing to think on,
But how to make fools of the small;
We Cavaliers suffer and drink on,
And care not a louse for 'um all.
2.
We thought it was matter of danger
To be Rebels against our Prince;
But he that is not a meer stranger,
May see it is otherwise since.
'Tis only the petty Delinquent
With whom the matter goes hard;
Where ever much boldness and Chink went,
There honour's bestow'd and reward.
3.
To keep up a turbulent nature,
And fear neither God nor the King;
To be a significant Traytor,
Is an advantageous thing.
But since it has ever been so,
And so it will ever be,
[Page 49]Let it end as it did begin, so
That it never do trouble me.
SONG XLI. A Round.
SIt round, sit round, leave musing and thinking,
Hang caring and working, let's fall to our drinking;
The works of our hands
Shall purchase no lands,
But in spight of all care wee'l be frolick;
He that does the glass skip,
May he die of the pip,
Or be lowsie that none shall endure him;
Or be plagu'd with the stone or the cholick,
And find ne'r a Surgeon to cure him.
SONG. XLII. The Cavalier.
WE have ventur'd our estates,
And our liberties and lives,
For our Master and his mates,
And been toss'd by cruel fates,
Where the rebellious Devil drives,
So that not one of ten survives.
We have laid all at stake
For his Majesty's sake,
We have fought, we have paid,
We've been sold and betray'd.
[Page 50]And tumbled from nation to nation,
But now those are thrown down
That usurped the Crown,
Our hopes were that we
All rewarded should be,
But we're paid with a Proclamation.
Now the times are turn'd about,
And the Rebels race is run:
That many headed beast, the Rout,
Who did turn the Father out
When they saw they were undon,
Were for bringing in the Son.
That phanatical crue
Which made us all rue,
Have got so much wealth,
By their plunder and stealth,
That they creep into profit and power:
And so come what will,
They'll be uppermost still;
And we that are low,
Shall still be kept so
While those domineer and devour.
Yet we will be loyal still,
And serve without reward or hire,
To be redeem'd from so much ill,
May stay our stomacks, though not fill;
And if our patience do not tire,
We may in time have our desire.
SONG XLIII. A Wife.
1.
SInce thou'rt condemn'd to wed a thing,
And that same thing must be a she;
And that same she to thee must cling
For term of life of her and thee;
I'll tell thee what this thing shall bee.
2.
I would not have her virtuous,
For such a wife I ne'er did see;
And 'tis a madness to suppose
What never was, nor e'er shall bee;
To seem so is enough to thee.
3.
Do not desire she should be wise,
Yet let her have a waggish wit;
No circumventing subtilties,
But pretty slights to please and hit,
And make us laugh at her, or it.
4.
Nor must thou have one very just,
Lest she repay thee in thy kind;
And yet she must be true to trust;
Or if to sport she has a mind,
Let her be sure to keep thee blind.
5.
One part of valour let her have;
Not to return but suffer ill,
To her own passion be no slave
But to thy law's obedient still,
And unto thine submit her will.
6.
Be thou content she have a tongue,
That's active so it be not lowd;
And so she be straight-limb'd and young,
Though not with beauty much endow'd,
No matter, so she be but proud.
7.
Tir'd she should be, not satisfi'd,
But alwaies tempting thee for more,
So cunningly she bee n't espy'd.
Let her act all parts like a whore,
So she bee n't one, I'ld ask no more.
8.
But above all things, let her be
Short liv'd and rich, no strong-dock'd
Jone,
That dares to live till 53,
Find this wife, if thou must have one;
But there's no wife so good as none.
SONG XLIV. On the Queens Arrival.
1.
FRom the
Lusitanian Shore,
Our triumphing Ships are come
Proudly with their royal lading,
Which Britain, that now truly's great, enjoys at home,
And needs no more abroad to rome,
But may now give over trading.
For we have that Jewel whose value is more,
Then all one
India's Spice, or t'other
India's Ore.
2.
Katharina Queen of love!
England's joy and admiration!
Fit to be made a Spouse to
Jove,
Spains terrour, yet their emulation;
The
Portuguez riches, their glory and pride,
Who now are become but a rifled nation,
Such a coelestial consort to bring
To the embraces of
Brittains King:
The world yields not so glorious a Bride,
Nor is there a Prince that merits the bliss
Of so great beauty, but so good a King as this.
3.
Now let sea and land rejoyce,
Tagus yields us golden sands;
All that have feet, or hands, or voyce,
In these two united lands,
Lift them up, rejoyce and sing;
Blessed Queen and happy King!
Chorus.
Long live
Charles and
Katharina!
To testifie our joy,
We sung
Vive le Roy;
But now wee'l sing
Vive le Roy & la Reigna.
SONG XLV. A Friend.
FAin would I find out a friend that is true;
That we may live freely together:
But men are grown false, and friends are but few,
And as fickle in mind as a feather.
That man I suspect, who much zeal does pretend,
And will not our frailties connive at,
His looks and his words are both fram'd to his end;
While some underhand-cheat he does drive at.
He that still laughs in tune, and smiles in my face,
And appears very courteous and civil;
If I trust him but once, I shall find him as base
And perfidious as the Devil.
A man of a niggardly soul I despise,
His Avarice makes him slavish;
For he that his wealth more than honour doth prize,
Will not only be sordid but knavish.
He that soon grows rich from a beggerly life,
Is not for my conversation;
He's as proud as a Presbyter Parson's wife,
Or a new made corporation.
But he that is generous, jolly and wise,
Good natur'd and just to any one,
Such person I love and extol to the skies;
He shall be my friend and companion.
PART. II.
SONG I. The Royalist.
Written in 1646.
1.
COme, pass about the
bowl to me,
A health to our distressed
King;
Though we're in hold, let cups go free,
Birds in a
cage may freely sing.
The ground does tipple healths apace,
When
storms do fall, and shall not we;
A sorrow dares not shew its face,
When we are
ships and sack's the
sea.
2.
Pox on this grief, hang
wealth, let's
sing,
Shall's kill our selves for fear of death?
We'l live by th'
air which songs doth bring,
Our
sighing does but wast our breath:
Then let us not be discontent,
Nor drink a glass the less of
Wine;
In vain they'l think their plagues are spent,
When once they see we don't
repine.
3.
We do not suffer here alone,
Though we are beggar'd, so's the
King;
'Tis sin t' have wealth, when he has none,
Tush! poverty's a
Royal thing!
When we are
larded well with drink,
Our
heads shall turn as
round as theirs,
Our
feet shall rise, our
bodies sink
Clean down the wind, like
Cavaliers.
4.
Fill this unnatural
quart with
sack;
Nature all vacuums doth decline,
Our selves will be a
Zodiack,
And every mouth shall be a sign.
Me thinks the
Travels of the glass,
Are circular like
Plato's year,
Where every thing is as it was;
Let's tipple round; and so 'tis here.
SONG II. The Commoners.
Writtenin 1645. to the Club men.
COme your waies
Bonny Boyes
Of the
Town,
For
now is your time or
never;
Shall your fears
Or your cares
Cast you down?
Hang your
wealth
And your
health,
Get
renown,
[Page 57]We all are undone for ever.
Now the
King and the
Crown
Are tumbling down,
And the
Realm doth groan with
disasters,
And the scum of the land,
Are the men that command,
And our
slaves are become our
masters.
2.
Now our lives,
Children, wives
And estate,
Are a prey to the lust and
plunder,
To the rage
Of our age.
And the
fate
Of our land
Is at hand,
'Tis too late
To tread these
Usurpers under.
First down goes the
Crown,
Then follows the
gown;
Thus levell'd are we by the
Roundhead,
While
Church and
State must
Feed their
pride and their
lust.
And the
Kingdom and
King confounded.
3.
Shall we still
Suffer ill
And be dumb?
And let every
Varlet undo us?
Shall we doubt
Of each Lowt,
That doth come,
With a voice
[Page 58]Like the noise
Of a Drum,
And a
sword or a
Buffe-coat to us?
Shall we lose our estates
By
plunder and
rates
To bedeck those proud upstarts that
swagger,
Rather fight for your meat,
Which these
Locusts do eat,
Now every man's a beggar.
SONG III. The Pastoral.
On the Kings Death. Written in 1648.
WHere
Englands Damon us'd to keep,
In peace and awe, his
flocks
Who fed, not fed upon, his sheep,
There
Wolves and
Tygres now do ▪prey,
There
Sheep are slain, and
Goats do sway,
There raigns the subtle
Fox
While the poor
Lamkins weep.
2.
The Laurell'd
garland which before
Circled his brows about,
The
spotless coat which once he wore,
The
sheep-hook which he us'd to sway,
And
pipe whereon he lov'd to play,
Are seiz'd on by the
rout,
And must be us'd no more.
3.
Poor
Swain, how thou lament'st to see
Thy flocks o're-rul'd by those
That serve thy Cattle all like thee:
Where hateful
vice usurps the Crown,
And
Loyalty is trodden down;
Down skrip and sheep-hook goes,
When
Foxes Shepherds be.
SONG IV. A Mock-Song.
HAng up
Mars
And his wars,
Give us drink,
We'l tipple my
Lads together;
Those are slaves,
Fools and knaves,
That have
chink,
And must pay,
For what they say,
Do, or think,
Good fellows accompt for neither;
Be we
round, be we
square,
We are happier than they're
Whose dignity works their ruin:
He that well the
bowl rears,
Can
baffle his cares,
And a fig for
death or
undoing.
SONG V. The Tr [...]oper.
1.
COme, come, let us drink,
'Tis in vain to think,
Like fools on grief or sadness;
Let our
money fly
And our
sorrows die,
All worldly care is madness;
But Sack and good cheer
Will in spite of our fear,
Inspire our souls with gladness.
2.
Let the greedy clowns
That do live like hounds,
That know neither
bound nor
measure
Lament each loss,
For their
wealth is their cross,
Whose delight is in their
treasure,
But we that have none,
Will usetheirs as our own,
And spend it at our pleasure.
3.
Troul about the
bowl,
The delight of my soul,
And to my hand commend it.
A fig for
chink,
'Twas made to buy drink;
Before that we go we'l end it:
When we've spent our store,
The land will yield us more,
And jovially we will spend it.
SONG VI. The Good-fellow.
1.
STay, stay, shut the gate;
T' other quart, faith, it is not so late,
As you're thinking;
Those
Stars which you see,
In this
hemisphere, be
But the
studs in your cheeks by your
drinking.
The
Sun is gone to tipple all night in the sea boyes;
Tomorrow he'l blush that he's paler then we boyes,
Drink
wine, give him
water, 'tis
sack makes us the boyes.
2.
Fill, fill up the glass,
To the next merry
Lad let it pass,
Come away w'it;
Come set foot to foot,
And but give your minds to't,
'Tis
heretical six, that doth slay wit.
No
helicon like to the juice of the Vine is,
For
Phaebus had never had wit, or diviness,
Had his face not been
bow-dy'd as thine, his, and mine is.
3.
Drink, drink off your bowls,
We'l enrich both our heads and our souls
With
Canary;
A
carbuncled face
Saves a tedious race;
For the
Indies about us we carry.
[Page 62]Then hang up good faces, we'l drink till our
noses,
Give freedome to speak what our
fancy disposes;
Beneath whose protection is
under the Roses.
4.
This, this must go round,
Off your
hats, till that the
pavement be crown'd
With your
beavers
A red-coated face
Frights a
Sergeant at mace,
And the
Constable trembles to shivers.
In state march our
faces like those of the
Qu
[...]rum,
When the
Wenches fall down & the
vulgar adore 'um,
And our
noses, like
Link-boyes, run
shining before 'um.
An Addition by
M. C. Esquire.5.
Call, call, honest
Will,
Hang a long and tedious bill,
It disgraces;
When our Rubies appear,
We justly may swear,
That the reckoning is true by our faces.
Let the Bar-boy go sleep, & the drawers leave roaring.
Our looks wil account without them, had we more in
When each pimple that rises will save a quart scoring.
SONG VII. The Mock-Song by T. J.
1.
HOld, hold, quaffe no more,
But restore
If
you can, what you've
lost by
your drinking,
Three Kingdoms and Crowns,
With their Cities and Towns,
While the King and his progeny's sinking.
The studs in your cheeks have obscur'd his
star boyes,
Your drinking mischarriages in the late war boyes,
Have brought his prerogative now to the bar boyes.
2.
Throw, throw down the glass,
He's an Ass
That
extracts all his worth from
Can
[...]ry;
That valour will shrink
That's only good in drink,
'Twas the
cup made the
camp to miscarry.
You thought in the world, there's no power could tame ye,
You tippled and whor'd till the foe overcame ye,
Gods nigs, and ne'r stir,
Sir, has vanquish'd God damm me.
3.
Fly, fly from the Coast,
Or you're lost,
And the
water will
run where the
drink went,
From hence you must slink
If you have no chink;
'Tis the course of the
royal Delinquent.
You like three fair Gamesters, four Dice, & a Drum
But you'd as lief see the Devil as
Fairfax or
Cromwel.
4.
Drink, drink not the round
You'l be drown'd
In the
source of your
sack and your
sonnets:
Try once more your fate
For the King against the State,
And go barter your
beavers for
bennets.
You see how they're
charm'd by the
Kingdoms inchanters,
And therefore pack hence to
Virginia for planters;
For an Act and two Redcoats will rout all the
ranters.
SONG VIII. The Answer.
1.
STay, stay, prate no more,
Lest thy
brain, like thy
purse run 'th score
Though thou strain'st it;
Those are
Traytors in grain,
That of sack do complain,
And rail by 'ts own power against it.
Those
Kingdoms and
Crowns which your
poetry pities,
Are faln by the pride and hypocrisie of Cities,
And not by those
brains that love
sack & good
dities.
The K. and his progeny had kept 'um from
sinking,
[Page 65]Had they had no worse foes, then the Lads that love drinking,
We that tipple ha' no
leisure for
plotting or
thinking.
2.
He, he is an Asse
That doth throw down
himself with a
glass
Of Canary;
He that's quiet will think
Much the better of drink,
'Cause the
cups made the
camp to miscarry you lie,
You whore though we tipple, and there my
friend
Your sports did
determine in the
month before
July,
There's less fraud in plain
dam me, then your sly
by my truly:
'Tis Sack makes our
blouds both the
purer &
warmer;
We need not your
priest or the
feminine charmer,
For a bowl of
Canary's a whole suite of armour.
3.
Hold, hold, not so fast;
Tipple on, for there is no such hast
To be going:
We
drowning may fear,
But your end will be there
Where there is neither
swiming, nor
rowing:
We were
Gamesters alike, and our stakes were both down boyes,
But
Fortune did favour you being her own boyes,
And who would not venture a cast for a
crown boyes.
Since we wear the right
colours he the worst of our foes is,
That goes to traduce us, and fondly supposes,
That
Cromwel is an enemy to Sack and red noses.
4.
Then, then quaffe it round,
No deceit in a brimmer is found;
Here's no swearing,
Beer and Ale makes you prate
Of the
Kirk and the
State,
Wanting other discourse worth the hearing:
This strumpets your Muses, to ballad or flatter
Or rail, and your betters with froth to bespa
[...]ter,
And your talk's all
diurnals and Gunpowder matter:
But we (while old
Sack does divinely inspire us)
Are active to do what our
Rulers require us,
And attempt such exploits as the world shall admire us.
SONG IX. The Levellers Rant.
Written in 1648.
TO the
Hall, to the
hall,
For justice we call,
On the
King and his pow'rful
adherents &
friends,
Who still have endeavoured, but we work their ends.
'Tis we will pull
down what e're is above us,
And make them to fear us, that never did love us;
We'l
level the proud, and make every degree
To our
Royalty bow the knee;
'Tis no less then treason
'Gainst freedom and Reason
For our brethren to be higher than we.
2.
First the thing, call'd a King,
To judgement we bring,
And the
spawn of the
Court, that were prouder then he,
And next the two Houses united shall be,
It does to the
Romish religion enveagle;
For the State to be two headed like the
spread-eagle
We'l purge the superfluous Members away,
They are too many Kings to sway,
And as we all teach;
'Tis our Liberties breach,
For the Free-born
Saints to obey.
3.
Not a Claw, in the Law,
Shall keep us in aw;
We'l have no
cushion-cuffers to tell us of hell;
For we are all
gifted to do it as well;
'Tis freedom that we do hold forth to the Nation,
To enjoy our
fellow-creatures as at the creation:
The
Carnal mens wives are for men of the
spirit,
Their wealth is our own by merit;
For we that have right,
By the Law called
Might,
Are the
Saints that must
judge and
inherit.
SONG X. The New Courtier.
Written in 1648.
SInce it must be so,
Then so let it go,
Let the
Giddy-brain'd times turn round;
Since we have no
King let the
goblet be crown'd,
Our
Monarchy thus we'l recover;
While the
pottles are weeping, we'l drench our sad souls
In
big-bellied bowles,
Our sorrows in Sack shall lye steeping,
And we'l drink till our eyes do run over;
And prove it by reason,
That it can be no
Treason
To drink and to sing
A
mournival of healths to our new-crown'd
King.
2.
Let us all stand bare,
In the
presence we are;
Let our
noses like
bonfires shine,
In stead of the
Conduits, let the
pottles run wine,
To perfect this new
Coronation;
And we that are loyal,
In drink, shall be
Peers,
While that face, that wears
Pure
Claret, looks like the
bloud-royal,
And out-stares the
Bores of the Nation:
In sign of obedience,
Our
oaths of Allegiance
Beer-glasses shall be,
And he that tipples
ten, ▪s of the
Nobility.
3.
But if in this
Raign,
The Halberted train
Or the
Constable should rebel,
And should make their twy-bill'd
militia to swell,
And against the Kings party raise arms,
Then the
Drawers like
Yeomen
Of the Guard, with quart-pots,
Shall fuddle the sots,
While we make 'um both
cuckolds and
freemen,
And on their wives be up alarums.
Thus as each
health passes,
We'l tripple the glasses,
And hold it no sin,
To be loyal and drink in defence of our King.
SONG XI. The Safety.
Written in 1648.
SInce it has been lately enacted
high Treason,
For a man to speak
truth of the
heads of the
state,
Let every wise man make use of his reason;
See and hear what he can, but take heed what he prate.
For the proverbs do learn us,
He that stayes from the battail, sleeps in a whole skin,
And our words are our own, if we can keep 'um in;
What fools are we then, that to
prattle begin
Of things that do not concern us?
2.
Let the three-kingdoms fall to one of the
prime ones
My mind is a Kingdom, and shall be to me,
[Page 70]I could make it appear, if I had but the time once
I'm as happy with one, as he can be with three,
If I could but enjoy it.
He that's mounted on high, is a mark for the
hate
And the
envy of every
pragmatital pate,
While he that
creeps low, lives safe in his state,
And
greatness doth scorn to annoy it.
3.
I am never the better which side gets the battel,
The
Tu
[...]s or the
Crosses what is it to me?
They'l never increase my goods or my cattel,
But a
beggar's a
beggar, and so he shall be,
Unless he turn
Traytor.
Let
Misers take courses to heap up their treasure,
Whose
lust has no
limits, whose
mind has no
measure;
Let me be but quiet and take a little pleasure,
And little contents my nature.
4.
My petition shall be that
Canary be cheaper,
W'thout patent or custome, or cursed excise;
That the
Wits may have leave to drink deeper and deeper,
And not be undone, while their heads they
baptist
And in liquor do drench 'um,
If this were but granted, who would not desire,
To
dub himself one of
Apollo's own quire?
We'l ring out the bells, when our noses are on fire
And the quarts shall be the buckets to
[...]
5.
I account him no
wit, that is gifted at railing,
And
flirting at those that above him do sit;
While they do out wit him with
whipping and
go
[...]ing▪
Then his
purse and his
person both pay for his
wit▪
[Page 71]'Tis better to be drinking:
If
Sack were reform'd into
Twelve pence a quart,
I'ld study for money to merchandize for't,
And a
friend that is true, we together will sport:
Not a word,
but we'l pay them with thinking▪
SONG XII. The Companion.
WHat need we take care for
Platonical Rules?
Or the precepts of
Aristotle?
They that think to find
learning in books are bu
[...] fools,
True Philosophy lies in the bottle.
And a mind
That's confin'd
To the mode of the Schools.
Ne'r arrives at the height of a pottle
Let the sages
Of our ages
Keep a talking
Of our walking,
Demurely, while we that are wiser,
Do abhor all
That's moral
In
Plato
And
Cato
And
Seneca talks like a
Sizer.
Chorus.
Then let full bowles on bowles be hurl'd,
That our
jollity may be compleater,
For
Man though he be but a very little world,
Must be drown'd, as well as the greater.
2.
We'l drink till our cheeks are as starrd' as the
skies;
Let the pale-colour'd
students flowt us,
And our noses like Comets, set fire on our eyes,
Till we bear the whole heavens about us.
And if all
Make us fall,
Then our heels shall devise
What the stars are a doing without us.
Let
Lilly
Go tell you
Of thunders
And wonders,
Let
Astrologers all divine;
And let
Booker
Be a looker
Of our natures
In our features,
He'l find nothing but Claret in mine.
Chorus. Then let full bowles, &c.
SONG XIII. Copernicus.
1.
LEt the bowl pass free
From him to thee
As it first came to me,
'Tis pity that we should confine it,
Having all either credit or coyn yet,
[Page 73]Let it e'n take its course,
There's no stopping its force,
He that shuffles must inter-line it.
2.
Lay aside your cares,
Of Shops and Wares,
And irrational fears;
Let each breast be as thoughtless as his'n is,
That from his bride newly ris'n is;
We'l banish each soul,
That comes here to condole,
Or is troubled with
love or
business.
3.
The King we'l not name,
Nor a Lady t' enflame
With desire to the game,
And into a dumpishness drive all,
Or make us run mad, and go wive all;
We'l have this whole night
Set a part for delight,
And our mirth shall have no corrival.
4.
Then see that the Glass
Through its circuit do pass,
Till it come where it was;
And every nose has been within it,
Till he end it that first did begin it;
As
Copernicus found,
That the Earsh did turn round,
We will prove so does every thing in it.
SONG XIV. The Painters Entertainment.
1.
THis is the time, and this in the day
Design'd for mirth and sporting,
We'l turn
October i
[...]
May,
And make St.
Luke's feast
As pleasant and long as the rest
We'l in our own faces our
colours display,
And hallow our yearly resorting.
Then let the bowles turn round round,
While in them our
colours we mingle,
To raise our dull souls from the ground,
Our arts and our pains are thus crown'd▪
And happy are we,
That in unity be▪
'Tis a hell upon earth to be single.
Chorus.
'Twas
love at first that brought us hither,
And love stall keep us here together.
2.
First to the Master of the feast,
This health is consecrated;
Thence to each
sublimary guest,
Whose soul doth desire,
This
Nectar to raise and inspire;
Till he with
Apelles himself doth
contest,
And his fancy is elevated,
Then let, &c.
Chorus. 'Twas love, &c.
3.
Lo how the
air, the
earth, and th'
seas,
Have all brought in their treasure,
To feast each sence with rarities,
Plump
Bacchus brings wine,
And
Ceres her dainties doth joyn;
The
air with rare musick doth
eccho, and these
All club to create us pleasure.
Then let the bowles, &c.
Chorus. 'Twas love, &c.
4.
Now in our fancies we will suppose
The word in all its glory;
Imagine all delight that growes,
And pleasures that can
Fill up the vast soul of a man;
And glut the
coy pallat, the
eyes, ears and
nose,
By the fancy presented before you.
Then let the bowles, &c.
Chorus. 'Twas love, &c.
5.
We'l use no pencil now but the bowl,
Let every artist know it,
In sack we will pourtray each soul;
Each health that is took,
Will give us the livelier look;
And who's he that dares our fancy
controul,
When each
Painter is turned a poet?
Then let the bowles, &c.
Chorus. 'Twas love, &c.
6.
And though we cannot the day extend
Beyond its proper measure;
The
night and it themselves shall
blend,
We care not for night,
When our hearts and our
heads are all light,
Nor the time, nor the company shall have an end,
Honest mirth of it self is a treasure.
Then let the bowles, &c.
Chorus. 'Twas love, &c.
SONG XV. The Cnre of Care.
1.
WHy should we not laugh and be jolly?
Since now all the world is mad;
All lull'd in a dull
melancholly:
He that wallows in store,
Is still gaping for more;
And that makes him as poor,
As that wretch that never any thing had.
How mad is the damn'd
money-monger,
That to purchase to him and his heirs,
Growes
shrivled with
thirst and
hunger?
While we that are bonny,
Buy Sack for ready money,
And ne'r trouble
Scriv'ners nor
Lawyers.
2.
Those
Gulls that by scraping and toyling,
Have swell'd the
Revenues so vast,
Get nothing by all their turmoyling,
But are
marks for each tax,
While they
load their own
backs,
With the heavier
packs,
And lie down
gall'd and
weary at last;
While we that do traffick in
Tipple,
Can baffle, the
gown and the
sword,
Whose jawes are so hungry and
gripple;
We ne'r trouble our heads,
With
indentures or deeds,
But our
Wills are compris'd in a word.
3.
Our
money shall never
Indite us,
Nor drag us to
Goldsmiths-hall;
Nor
Pira's, nor
storms can affright us:
We that have no estates,
Pay no taxes or rates,
But can
sleep with open gates,
He that lies on the ground cannot fall:
We
laugh at those fools, whose
endeavours
Do but fit 'um for
prisons or
fines,
While we that spend all are the savers;
For if
theeves do steal in,
They go out empty agin,
Nay the
Plunderers lose their designs.
4.
Then let's not take care for to morrow,
But
tipple and
laugh while we may,
To wash from our hearts all sorrow;
Those
Cormorants which
[Page 78]Are troubled with an itch,
To be mighty and rich,
Do but
toyle for the wealth which they
borrow.
The
Mayor of the Town with his
ruff on,
What a pox is he better than we?
He must vail to the men with the
buff on;
He
Custard may eat,
And such luberly meat,
But we
drink and are
merrier than he.
SONG. XVI. Content.
Out of
Anacreon.
1.
IF
wealth could keep a man alive,
I'ld only study how to thrive;
That having got a mighty mass,
I might bribe the
fates to let me pass:
But since we can't prolong our years,
Why
spend we time in needless
sighs and
tears?
For since
Destiny
Has decreed us to die,
And all must pass o're the old
ferry;
Hang riches and cares,
Since we ha'nt many years,
We'l have a
short life and a merry,
3.
Times keep their
round, and
destiny,
Observes no
[...] whe'r we laugh or cry,
And
Fortune never does bestow,
[Page 79]A look on what we do below:
But men with equal swiftness run
To
prey on others, or be
prey'd upon;
Since we can take no course,
To be
better or
worse,
Let none be a melancholly
thinker;
Let the
Times the
round go,
So the
cups do so too,
Ne'r blush at the name of a
Drinker.
SONG XVII. Mirth.
Out of
Anacreon.
1.
WHen our brains well liquor'd are,
Then we charm asleep our care,
Then we accompt
Machiavil a fool with his plots,
And
cry there's no
depth, But the bottom o'th' pots,
Then
Hector compar'd with us, will be
But a coward, and
Craesus beggarly:
Then with songs our voices we raise,
And circle our
Temples with bayes;
Then
Honour we account but a blast of Wind,
And trample all things in our mind.
The
valiant at arms,
That are led by fond charms,
Get their honour with
harms,
While he that takes up
A plentiful
cup,
To no danger is brought,
But of paying his
groat.
[Page 80]Then quickly come Lad and fill our
cups full,
For since down we must all be laid,
'Tis held a good rule
In
Bacchus free-school
'Tis better lie
drunk then
dead.
SONG XVIII. The Independants Resolve.
Written in 1648.
COme
Drawer and fill us about some wine,
Let's merrily tipple the day's our own;
We'l have our delights, let the
countrey go pine,
Let the
King and his
Kingdom groan.
The
Crown is our own, and so shall continue;
We'l
Monarchy baffle quite,
We'l drink off the Kingdoms revenue,
And
sacrifice all to delight.
'Tis power that brings
Us all to be
Kings,
And we'l be all crown'd by our
might.
2.
A fig for
divinity lectures and
law,
And all that to
Loyalty do pretend;
While we by the
sword keep the Kingdom in awe,
Our
power shall never have end:
The
Church and the
State we'l turn into liquor,
And spend a whole Town in a day;
We'l melt all their
bodkins the quicker
Into
Sack▪ and drink them away.
We'l keep the
demeans,
And turn
Bishops and
Deans,
And over the Presbyter sway.
3.
The nimble St.
Patrick is sunk in his boggs,
And his Countrey-men, sadly
cry O hone, O hone!
St.
Andrew and's
Kirk-men are lost in the foggs,
Now we are the
Saints alone.
Thus on our
Superiours and
Equals we trample,
And
Jockie our stirrup shall hold:
The
City's our
Mule for example,
That we may in plenty be roul'd.
Each delicate dish,
Shall but
Eccho our wish
And our
drink shall be cordial gold.
SONG XIX. On Canary.
1.
OF all the rare juices,
That
Bacchus or
Ceres produces,
There's none that I can, nor dare I
Compare with the princely
Canary;
For this is the thing
That a fancy infuses;
This first got a King,
And next the nine
Muses
'Twas this made old
Poets so sprightly to sing,
And fill all the
world with the glory and fame on't,
They
Helicon call'd it, and the
Thespian-spring,
But this was the
drink, though they knew not the name on't.
2.
Our
Sider and
Perry,
May make a man mad but not merry;
It makes people windmill-pated,
And with
crackers sophisticated;
And your
hops, yest, and
malt,
When they're mingled together,
Makes our fancies to halt,
Or reel any whither:
It
stuffs up our brains with
froth, and with
yest,
That if one would write but a verse for a
Bel-man
He must study till
Christmas for an
eight shilling-jest▪
These liquors won't raise, but drown, and o'rewhelm man.
3.
Our drousie
Metheglin
Was only ordain'd to enveigle in;
The
Novice that knows not to drink yet,
But is fudled before he can think it;
And your
Claret and
White,
Have a
Gun-powder fury,
They're of the
French spright,
But they
wont long endure you.
And your holiday
Muscadine, Allegant, and
Tent,
Have only this property and vertue that's fit in't:
They'l make a man sleep till a preachment be spent,
But we neither can warm our bloud nor our wit in'
[...]
4.
The
Bagrag and
Rhenish
You must with
ingredients replenish;
'Tis a
wine to please
Ladies and
toyes with,
But not for a man to rejoyce with:
[Page 83]But 'tis
Sack makes the sport,
And who gains but that
flavour,
Though an
Abbess he court,
In his high shooes, he I have her.
'Tis this that advances the drinker and drawer,
Though the
father came to
Town in his
hob-nails and
leather,
He turns it to
Velvet, and brings up an Heir,
In the Town in his
[...]hain, in the
field with his
feather▪
SONG XX. The Leveller.
1.
NAy prethee don't fly me,
But sit thee down by me,
I cannot endure
A man that's demure
Go hang up your
Worships and
Sirs;
Your
congies and
trips,
With your legs, and your lips;
Your
Madams and
Lords,
And such finikin words,
With the complements you bring,
That do spell
NO-THING;
You may keep for the
chains and the
furs:
For at the beginning, was no Peasant or Prince,
And 'twas policy made the distinction since.
2.
Those Titles of honours
Do remain in the
Donours.
[Page 84]And not in that things,
To which they do cling.
If his soul be too narrow to wear 'um,
No delight can I see
In that word call'd degree,
Honest
Dick sounds as well
As a name of an
ell,
That with titles doth swell,
And sounds like a
spell,
To affright mortail ears that hear 'um.
He that wears a brave soul, and dares gallantly do,
May be his own Herald and Godfather too.
3.
Why then should we doat on,
One with a fools coat on?
Whose
Coffers are cram'd,
But yet he'l be damn'd.
Ere he'l do a good act, or a wise one;
What
Reason has he
To be ruler o'r me?
That's a Lord in his chest,
But in's
head and his
breast
Is empty and bare,
Or but puff'd up with air,
And can neither
assist nor
advise one,
Honour's but air,
and proud flesh
but dust
is;
'Tis we Commons
make Lords,
and the Clerk
makes the Justice.
4.
But since men must be
Of a different degree,
Because most do aspire,
To be greater and higher,
[Page 85]Then the rest of their fellows and brothers,
He that has such a spirit,
Let him gain it by's merit;
Spend his
brain, wealth, or
blood
For his
Countreys good,
And make himself fit
By his
valour or
wit,
For
things 'bove the
reach of
all others;
For honour'
s a prize,
and who wins it may wear it,
If not, 'tis a badge
and a burthen
to bear it.
5.
For my part let me
Be but quiet and free,
I'll drink Sack and obey,
And let great ones sway,
Who spend their whole time in thinking;
I'll ne'r busie my pate
With secrets of State,
The
News-books I'll burn all,
And with the
Diurnal
Light
Tobacco, and admit
That they're so far fit,
As they serve
good company and
drinking.
All the name
I desire, is an honest Good-fellow;
And that man
has no worth, that won't sometimes be mellow.
SONG XXI. The Royallists Answer.
1.
I Have reason to fly thee,
And not sit down by thee;
For I hate to behold,
One so sawcy and bold,
To
deride and contemn his superiours:
Our
Madams and
Lords,
And such mannerly words,
With the
gestures that be
Fit for every degree,
Are things that we and you
Both claim as our due,
From all those that are our inferiours.
For from the beginning there were
Princes, we kno
[...]
'Tis you
Levellers hate 'um, 'cause you can't be
[...]
2.
All Titles of honours
Were at first in the
donours;
But being granted away,
With the Grantee stay,
Whe'r he wear a small soul or a bigger.
There's a necessity
That there should be degree;
Whe'r 'tis due we'l afford
A
Sir John, and my
Lord;
Though
Dick, Tom, and
Jack,
Will serve you and your pack;
Honest
Dick's name enough for a Digger.
[Page 87]He that has a strong
purse, can all things be or do,
He is
valiant, and
wise, and
religious too.
3.
We have cause to adore,
That man that has store,
Though a
Bore or a sot,
There's something to be got;
Though he be neither
honest nor
witty;
Make him high, let him rule;
He'l be playing the fool,
And
transgress, then we'l
squeeze
Him for
fines and for
fees.
And so we shall gain,
By the wants of his brain;
'Tis the
fools-cap that maintains the
City.
If honour be
air, 'tis in common, and as fit,
For the
fool and the
clown, as for the
champion or the
wit.
4.
Then why may'nt we be
Of different degree?
And each man aspire
To be greater and higher
Then his
wiser and
honester brother;
Since
Fortune and
Nature
Their
favours do scatter;
This hath
valour, that
wit,
T'other
wealth, nor i'st fit
That one should have all;
For then what would befall
Him, that's
born not to
one nor to t'other?
Though
honour were a
prize at first, now 'tis a
chattel,
And as
merchantable grown as your wares, or your cattel.
5.
Yet in this we agree,
To live quiet and free,
To drink
Sack and
submit,
And not shew our wit
By our
prating, but
silence, and
thinking,
Let the politick
Jews
Read
Diurnals and
News,
And lard their discourse,
With a Comment that's worse;
That which pleaseth me best,
Is a song or a Jest,
And my obedience I'll shew by my
drinking.
He that drinks well, does sleep well; he that sleeps wel
[...] doth think we
[...]
He that thinks well, does do well, he that does well, mu
[...] drink we
[...]
SONG XXII. The safe Estate.
1.
HOw happy a man is he,
Whose soul is quiet and free,
And liveth content with his own!
That does not desire
To swell nor aspire,
To the
Coronet, nor to the
Crown.
He doth sit and devise,
Those
Mushromes that rise,
But disturbs not his sleep,
At the quoil that they keep,
In the
plain he sits safe,
And doth privately laugh
At
high thoughts that are
tumbling down.
2.
His heart and his head are at rest,
And he sleeps with a
sorrowless breast,
That aspires not to sit at the
helm:
The desires of his mind,
To's his estate are confin'd;
And he lets not his
brains to o'r whelm.
He's for innocent sport,
And keeps off from the
Court;
And if sad thoughts arise,
He does only devise
With
Sack to repel 'um.
Though the times do turn round,
He doth still keep his ground,
Both in a
Republique and
Realm.
3.
He wears his own head and ears,
And he
tipples in safety with's peers,
And harmlesly passeth his time:
If he meet with a cross,
A full
bowle he doth toss,
Nor his
wealth, nor his
wit, are his crime.
He doth privately sit
With his friend clubbing wit;
And disburd'ning their breasts
Of some innocent
jests,
And not higher doth clime.
He smiles at the fate
Of those
Courtiers of State,
That fall down 'cause their thoughts are sublime.
4.
But
Princes and
Nobles are still,
Not
tenants for
life, but at
will,
And the giddy-brain'd
rout is their
Lord:
He that's
crowned to day,
A
Scepter to sway,
And by all is obey'd and ador'd;
Both he and his Crown,
In a trice are thrown down;
For an Act just and good,
If mis-understood,
Or an ill-relish'd
word;
While
he that
scorns pelf,
And enjoyes his own self,
Is secure from the Vote or the Sword.
SONG XXIII.
Th'
Astrologers,
That trade in Starrs,
Tell me I have not long to live;
Yet do I cry;
Lo here am I,
Let
fortune still
Do what she will,
I'll neither
care nor grieve.
2.
Fortune I know,
Is still my foe,
And lets me not grow
fat, nor
thrive;
[Page 91]But I, I vow,
Will never bow,
Nor
doat and be
As blind as she,
But keep my self alive.
3.
This I do know,
We all must go;
Though some go sooner, others later;
But why so fast?
There's no such hast;
Some post are gone,
We'l but jog on,
Bait first, and then
walk after.
4.
The
clown and's beast
Make hast to rest,
But
Lords and
Courtiers sit up longer:
Before we part,
Fill t'other quart;
Wash t'other eye,
And then we'l try
Whe'r
death or man be stronger.
5.
In th' interim,
Fill to the brim;
Travelling will make us weary;
Since th' journey's great,
And hurts our feet,
Bacchus shall be
A horse for me,
He's strong enough to carry.
SONG XXIV. The Polititian.
Written in 1649.
WHat
madness is't for him that's
wise,
To be so much self-hating?
Himself and his to sacrifice,
By
medling still with things too high,
That don't
concern, but
gratifie
His letchery of prating.
What is't to us who's in the ruling power?
While they protect, we're bound to obey,
But longer not an hour.
2.
Nature made all alike at first,
But
men that
fram'd this
fiddle
Of
government, made
best and
worst,
And high and low, like various strings,
Each man his several ditty sings,
To tune this state
down diddle.
In this grand wheel the world, we're spokes made all,
But that it may still keep its round,
Some mount while others fall.
3.
The blinded Ruler that by night,
Sits with his host of
Bill-men,
With their chalk'd weapons, that affright
The wondring clown that haps to view
His Worship, and his Gowned crew,
As if they sate to
Kill men.
Speak him but fair, he'l let you freely go:
And those that on the high rope dance,
Will do the same trick too.
4.
I'll ne'r admire
That
fatuous fire,
That is not what it seems,
For those, that now to us seem higher:
Like painted
bubbles blown i'th air,
By boyes, seem glorious and fair,
'Tis but in boyes esteems.
Rule of its self's a toyl and none would bear it,
But that 'twixt pride and avarice,
And close revenge they'l share it.
5.
Since all the world is but a
stage,
And every man a player;
They're
fools that lives or states engage;
Let's act and juggle as others do,
Keep what's our own, get others to;
Play whiffler clown or Maior:
For he that sticks to what his heart calls just,
Becomes a sacrifice and prey
To the prosperous whirlegigs lust.
6.
Each wise man first best loves himself,
Lives close, thinks and obeys;
Makes not his soul a slave to's pelf;
Nor idly squanders it away,
To cram their mawes that taxes lay,
On what he does, or sayes;
For those grand cords that man to man do twist,
Now are not honesty and love
But self and interest.
SONG XXV. The Prisoners.
Written when O. C. attempted to be King.
COme a
brimmer (my bullies) drink whole ones or nothing,
Now
healths have been
voted down,
'Tis
Sack that can
heat us, we care not for
cloathing,
A
gallon's as warm as a
gown;
'Cause the Parliament sees,
Nor the former nor these,
Could engage us to drink their
health,
They Vote that we shall
Drink no
healths at all,
Nor to
King, nor to
Common-wealth,
So that now we must venture to
drink 'um by stealth.
2.
But we've found out a way that's beyond all their thinking;
To keep up
Good-fellowship still;
We'l drink their
destruction that would destroy
drinking,
Let 'um
Vote that a
health if they will.
Those men that did fight,
And did
pray day and night
For the
Parliament and its attendant,
Did make all that bussle,
The King out to justle,
And bring in the
Independent,
But
now we all
clearly see what was the end on't.
3.
Now their Idol's thrown down with their
sooterkin also,
About which they did make such a pother,
And though their
contrivance made one K. to fall so
We have drunk our selves into another.
And now (my Lads) we
May still
Caveliers be,
In spite of
Committees frown:
We will drink, and we'l sing,
And each
health to our King,
Shall be Royally drunk in the
Crown,
Which shall be the
Standard in every Town.
4.
Those
politick would-bees do but shew themselves asses,
That other mens calling invade,
We only converse with pots and with glasses;
Let the
Rulers alone with their trade.
The
Lyon of the Tower,
Their estates does devour,
Without shewing law for't or reason;
Into prison we get,
For the crime called
debt,
Where our bodies and
brains we do
season,
And that is ne'r taken for
murther or
treason.
5.
Where our ditties still be,
give's more drink, give's more drink boyes,
Let those that are frugal take care;
Our
Goalers and we will live by our chink boyes,
While our
Creditors live by the air.
Here we lie at our ease,
And get
crast and
grease,
[Page 96]Till we've merrily spent all our store;
Then as drink brought us in,
'Twill redeem us agen;
We got in because we were poor,
And swear our selves out on the very same score.
SONG XXVI. Satisfaction.
1.
I Have often heard men say,
That the
Philosophers of old,
Though they were
good, and
grave, and
gray,
Did various opinions hold;
And with idolatry adore
The
Gods that themselves had made before;
And we that are
fools do do no more.
2.
Every man desires what's good;
But wherein that good consists,
Is not by any understood.
This sets on work both pens and fist;
For this condemns what that approves,
And this
man doth
hate, what that
man loves;
And that's the grand wheel that discord moves.
3.
This would
valiant be, that
wise,
That's for th'
sea, and this for
land;
All do judge upon
surmise,
None do rightly
understand;
These may be
like, but are not
that,
Something there is that all drive at,
But only they differ about the WHAT.
4.
And from all these several
ends.
Springs diversity of
actions,
For every man his
studies bends,
As
opinion builds his
faction.
Each man's his own
God-smith; what he
Thinks good, is good to him, and we
First make, and then adore our deity.
5.
A
mind that's
honest, pure, and
just,
A sociable life and free,
A
friend that dares not break a
trust,
Yet dares
die, if occasion, be;
A heart that dictates to the
tongue,
A
soul that's
innocent and
strong,
That can, yet will not do any
wrong:
He that has such a
soul, and a
mind,
That is so blest, and so inclin'd,
What all these do
seek for, he does
sind.
SONG XXVII. The Club.
1.
PRithee ben't so sad and serious,
Nothing's got by grief or care;
Melancholy's too imperious,
Where it comes 'twill
domineer;
If thou hast a cloudy breast,
In which thy
cares would build a nest;
Then drink good
Sack, 'twill make the rest,
Where
sorrows come not near.
2.
Be it
business, love, or
sorrow,
That possesses thus thy mind,
Bid them come again to morrow;
We are now to
mirth inclin'd,
Fill thy
cup and drown them all,
Sorrows still do for
liquor call,
We'l make this
Bacchus festival,
And cast our cares behind.
3.
He that has a
heart that's drowsie,
shall be surely banished hence;
We'l shun him as a man that's lowsie,
He's of
dangerous consequence:
And he that's silent like a
block,
Deserves to be made a laughingstock,
Let all
good fellows shun that rock,
For fear they forfeit
sense.
4.
Still those
clocks, let time attend us,
We'l not be to hours confin'd;
We'l banish all that may offend us,
Or disturb our
mirth design'd;
Let the glass still run its round,
And each
good-fellow keep his ground,
And if there be any
flincher found,
We'l have his soul
new-coyn'd.
SONG XXVIII. The Prodigal.
1.
NAy perswade not, I've swore
We'l have one
pottle more,
Though we run on the score,
And our
credits do stretch for't;
To what end does a
father
Pine his
body, or rather
Damn his
soul, for to gather
Such
store, but that he has this
fetch for't;
That we sons should be
high boyes,
And make it all fly boyes,
And when he does die boyes,
Instead of a
Sermon we'l sing him a
catch for't.
2.
Then hang the Dull wit
Of that
white-liver'd cit,
That
good-fellowes does hit
In teeth with a
red-nose;
May his nose look blew,
Or any dreadfuller hew,
That may speak him
untrue,
And disloyal unto the headnose;
'Tis the scarlet that graces,
And sets out our faces,
And that nature base is,
That esteems not a
Copper-nose, more than a
Lead-nose.
3.
All the
world keeps a
round,
First our
Fathers abound
[Page 100]In
wealth and buy ground,
And then leave it behind 'um:
We're straight put in
black,
Where we
mourn and drink
Sack,
And do t'other knack,
While they sleep in their
graves we ne'r mind um:
Thus we scatter the
store,
As they
rak'd it before;
And as for the
poor,
We enrich them as fast as our fathers did grind 'um.
SONG XXIX. The Antipolititian.
1.
COme leave thy
care, and love thy friend;
Live freely, don't dispair,
Of
getting money there's no end,
And
keeping it breeds care.
If thou hast money at thy need,
Good
company, and good Wine,
His
life, whose
joyes on
wealth do feed,
's not half so sweet as thine.
2.
I can enjoy my
self and
friends,
W'thout design or fear,
Below their
envie, or base ends,
That
Polititians are.
I neither
toyle, nor
care, nor
grieve,
To gather, keep, or loose;
With freedom and content I live,
And what's my
own I use.
3.
While men blown on with strong desires
Of
riches or
renown,
Though ne'r so high, would still be
higher,
So
tumble headlong down:
For
Princes smiles turn oft to frowns,
And favours fade each hour;
He that to day heaps
Towns on
Towns,
To morrow's clap't i'th
Tower.
4.
All that we get by all our store,
's but
honour or
dominion;
The one's but
trouble varnish'd o're,
And t'others but
opinion.
Fate rules the roast,
Times alwaies change;
'Tis
fancy builds all things;
How madly then our
minds do range,
Since all we
grasp hath wings.
5.
Those empty terms of
rich and
poor,
Comparison hath fram'd;
He hath not
much that covets
more,
Want is but
will, nick-nam'd.
If I can safely
think and
live,
And freely
laugh or
sing,
My wealth I'll not for
Craesus's give,
Nor change lives with a
King.
SONG XXX. The New Gentry.
1.
ENough for shame! leave off this fooling;
Prithee cringe no more,
Nor admire the ill-gotten store
Of the upstart
Mushromes of our Nation,
With blind and
groundless adoration;
If thy nature still wants schooling,
As thou dost grow old, grow wise,
For age can easily advise,
And make thee know,
'Tis only such as thou
That bring and keep both
fools and
knaves in
fashion.
2.
We make each other
proud and
knavish,
For where ever we
Great
abundance chance to see,
There we fling both
power and
honour,
As if
wealth were the only donour;
And our natures are so
slavish,
That we tamely will submit,
All our
reason, strength, and
wit;
And
pay, and
pray
Great men in power, that they
Will take our
Liberty and
trample on
her.
3.
What is't makes all men so much covet,
Toyling more and more,
To increase a needless store;
So violently tugg and
hall for't,
[Page 103]Venturing body and soul and
all for't?
The rich are flatter'd▪ and they
love it;
We obey their
shalls and
musts;
And to gratifie their lusts,
We madly strive
Who first our selves shall give,
And all that is
ours to them, if they'l but
call for't▪
4.
If we did take no notice of them,
Like not, nor applaud
Their
spoyls obtain'd by
force and
fraud;
But would live content and jolly,
Laughing at their painful folly,
And would neither fear nor love them:
Underneath their
loads, they'ld groan,
Or with
shame would throw them down;
And live as free
From needless
cares as we:
Slight
pomp and
wealth, that makes men
melancholly.
5.
Pray what are all these gaudy
bubbles
That so boast and rant,
Of what they think they
have, but
ha'nt?
But men that had the luck of living,
And made others fall their
thriving;
Hail-stones got in storms of troubles:
That for
valour are as fit
For
Knights, as to be
Squires for wit,
Inspir'd with pride,
Did what good men defi'd,
Grown great by
Protean turning and conniving.
6.
That man that would have me adore him,
With my heart, he must
And improve his parts and power
To
support, not to
devour,
Nor
pride; nor
lust, must e'r rule o'r him.
Th'
bug-bear greatness without this,
An idle, empty
pageant is:
He that doth rise,
And is not good and wise,
I honour not, but
pity and
deplore him.
SONG XXXI. The Cheerful Heart.
1.
WHat though these ill
times do go cross to our will?
And
fortune still frowns upon us?
Our
hearts are our own, and they shall be so still;
A pin for the
plagues they lay on us.
Let us take t'other
cup,
To keep our hearts up,
And let it be purest
Canary;
We'l ne'r shrink or care,
For the
crosses we bear,
Let 'um plague us until they be weary.
2.
What though we are made, both
beggars and
slaves,
Let us stoutly endure it, and drink on:
'Tis our
comfort we
suffer, 'cause we will not be
knaves,
Our
redemption will come e're we think on't.
We must flatter and fear
Those that over us are,
And make 'um
believe that we
love 'um,
[Page 105]When their
tyranny's past,
We will serve them at last,
As they
serv'd those that
have been
above 'um.
3.
The
Levites do preach, for the Goose and the Pig,
To drink wine but at
Christmas and
Easter;
The
Doctour doth labour our lives to new-trig;
And makes nature to fast, but we feast her;
The
Lawyer doth bawl,
Out his lungs and his gall,
For the Plantiff and for the
Defendant;
At books the Scholar lies,
Till by
Flatus he dies,
With the
ugly hard word at the
end on't
4.
But here's to the man that delights in
Sol fa,
'Tis
Sack is his only
Rosin;
A load of
heigh-ho's are not worth a
ha, ha;
He's the man for my money that
draws in.
Come a pin for this
Muck
And a fig for ill Luck;
'Tis better be
blyth and
frolick,
Then to sigh out our breath,
And invite our own death
By the
Gout or the
stone, and the
cholick.
SONG XXXII. Made and Set Extempore.
1.
WHen our
glasses flow with
Wine,
And our souls with
Sack are rais'd;
When we're
jeer'd we do not repine;
Nor are
proud when we are prais'd:
'Tis Sack alone can raise our souls,
A pin for Christning drinking-bowles.
2.
Let the
Drawer raise our fancies,
With his
wit-refining drink;
Hang your
stories and
Romances;
Those are fit for them that
think:
Let him
love that has a mind,
We to
drinking are inclin'd.
3.
Wit and
love, are th' only things
Which fill the thoughts of Kings and us;
Imagination makes us Kings,
And that's rais'd by doing thus.
Drink your Sack, let wit alone,
Wit by drinking best is shown.
SONG XXXIII. The Answer to the Curse against Ale.
1.
OGag for shame that strumpet muse!
Let not her
Spanish tongue abuse
Our wholsome and
Heroick English juice.
2.
'Twas not this loyal liquor shut
Our Gates against our
Soveraign, but
Strange
drinks into one
tub together put.
3.
When
Ale was drink Canonical,
There were no
theeves, nor
watch, nor
wall,
Men neither
stole, nor
lack'd, for
Ale was all.
4.
That
Poet ought be dry or dumb,
And to our brown-
bowls never come,
Who drinking
Ale, vents only
dregs and
scum.
5.
Nor had that
Souldier drunk enough,
For
Ale both valour gives and buffe,
Makes men
unkickable, and
cudgel-proof.
6.
'Twas the
meal, not
meal-man, was the cause
The mill fell down; for one small clause
In one meal-act, hath overthrown our lawes.
7.
The worth of
Ale none can proclaim,
But by th' assistance of the same,
From it our
Land derives its noblest name.
8.
With this men were inspir'd, but not
As
kick shaw-brains are now (God wot)
Inspir'd, that is,
run mad, none knows
with what.
9.
How did our stout fore-fathers make,
All
Antichristian Nations quake,
When they their
Nut-brown bowles and
bills did take!
10.
What noble sparks old
Ale did kindle!
But now strange drinks do make men dwindle,
And
Pigmies get, scarce fit to sway a spindle.
11.
This liquor makes the drinkers fight
Stoutly, while others stoutly write:
This both
creates the
Poet, and the
Knight.
12.
This makes the
drawer in his Gown
And chain, to ride and rule the Town,
Whose
orient Nose exemplifies his frown.
13.
How reverently the burly Host,
With basket-hilted pot and tost,
Commands the bak'd-meats, and then rules the rost;
14.
But oh the
Brewer bears the bell!
This makes him to such highness swell,
As
none but
Ale-inspir'd, can
think or
tell.
15.
Divert that
curse then, or give o're,
Don Philip can hurt
Ale no more,
Then his
Armado, England heretofore.
SONG XXXIV. The Reformation.
1.
TEll not me of Lords or Lawes,
Rules or
Reformation;
All that's done's not worth two strawes,
To the welfare of the Nation.
Men in power do rant it still,
And give no
reason but their will,
For all their domination.
Or if they do an act that's just,
'Tis not because they
would, but
must,
To
Gratifie some parties lust,
Or meerly for a fashion.
2.
Our expence of
bloud and
purse.
Has produc'd no profit.
Men are still as bad or worse,
And will be what e'r comes of it.
We've
shuffled out, and
shuffled in,
The
persons, but retain the
sin,
To make our
game the surer:
Yet spite of all our pains and skill,
The
knaves all in the pack are still,
And ever were, and ever will,
Though something now
demurer:
3.
And it cannot but be so,
Since those toyes in
fashion;
And of souls so base and low,
And meer
Bigots of the
Nation,
[Page 110]Whose designs are power and wealth,
At which by
rapines, fraud, and
stealth,
Audaciously they vent'r ye;
They lay their consciences aside,
And turn with every
wind and
tide,
Puff'd on by
Ignorance and
pride,
And all to look like
Gentry.
4.
Crimes are not punish'd cause they'r
crimes,
But 'cause they're low and little;
Mean men for
mean faults, in these times,
Make satisfaction to a tittle;
While those in
office and in
power,
Boldly the
underlings devour.
Our Cobweb-laws can't hold 'um.
They sell for many a
Thousand crown,
Things which were never yet their own,
And this is
law and
custome grown,
Cause those do
judge that
sold 'um.
5.
Brothers still with
Brothers brawl,
And for trifles sue 'um;
For two
pronouns that spoil all,
Those contentious
Meum, Tuum:
The wary
lawyer buyes and builds,
While the
Client sells his fields,
To sacrifice to's fury;
And when he thinks to obtain his right,
He's baffled off, or beaten quite,
By th' Judges will, or Lawyers slight,
Or ignorance of the Jury.
6.
See the
trades-man how he thrives
With perpetual trouble,
His Estate t'enlarge and double;
Extort, oppress, grind, and encroach,
To be a
Squire and keep a
coach,
And to be one o'th
Quorum,
Who may with's
brother worships sit,
And judge without
law, fear, or
wit,
Poor petty
thieves that nothing get,
And yet are brought before 'um.
7.
And his way to get all this
Is meer
dissimulation;
No factious lecture does he miss,
And
scapes no schism that's in fashion;
But with short hair and shining shooes,
He with two pens, and's note-book goes,
And winks and writes at randome;
Thence with
short meal, and
tedious Grace,
In a loud tone and publick place,
Sings
Wisdoms hymns, that
trot and pace,
As if
Goliah scand 'um.
8.
But when death begins his threats,
And his
Conscience struggles,
To call to mind his former
cheats;
Then at heav'n he turns his juggles,
And out of all's ill-gotten store,
He gives a dribling to the poor,
In a
Hospital, or a
School-house;
And the suborned
Priest for's hire,
Quite frees him from th'
infernal fire,
And places him i'th
Angels quire;
Thus these
Jack-puddings fool us,
9.
All he gets by's pains i'th close,
Is that he died worth so much,
Which he on's doubtful seed bestows,
That neither
care nor
know much;
Then
fortunes favourite, his heir,
Bred base, and ignorant, and bare,
Is blown up like a bubble;
Who
wondring at's own sudden rise,
By pride simplicity and vice,
Falls to three sports,
drink, drab, and
dice▪
And makes all fly like stubble.
10.
And the
Church the other twin,
Whose mad zeal enrag'd us,
Is not purifi'd a pin,
By all those
broyls in which she engag'd us,
We our wives turn'd out of doors,
And took in
Concubines and
Whores,
To make an alteration:
Our
Pulpiteers are proud and bold,
They their own
Wills and
factions hold,
And sell
salvation still for
Gold,
And here's our
Reformation.
11.
'Tis a madness then to make
Thriving our employment,
And
lucre love, for
Lucres sake,
Since we've possession, not enjoyment▪
Let the times run on their course,
For opposition makes them worse,
We ne'r shall better find 'um;
Let
Grandees wealth and power engross,
[Page 113]And honour too, while we sit close,
And laugh and take our plenteous dose
Of
Sack, and never mind 'um.
SONG XXXV. For the General's Entertainment.
1.
FArewell all
cares and
fears, let
Gladness come,
Let's all strive which shall most rejoyce;
No more the
Trumpet, or the Thundring
Drum,
Shall interrupt our peace with
noise;
But all their
Offices shall be
Inherited by sprightly melody.
Th'inchanting
Lute and the melodious
Lyre,
With well tun'd souls does make
A full harmonious Quire.
2.
In vain do we our selves, our selves destroy;
In vain do
English, English beat:
Contests are cruel, we must now wear joy,
And all in love, each other greet.
Our civil
discords now shall cease,
And lose
themselves in a desired
peace▪
All things by war are in a
Chaos hurl'd,
But love alone first made,
And still preserves the World.
3.
The
Trophies of the
Conquerours of old,
And all the
spoyls with which they'r
crown'd,
Were all but
types of what we do behold,
What they did seek for, we have found.
[Page 114]Here peace and plenty sweetly kist,
And both
loyalty and
vertue, twist;
Then let our joy rise high, that all may share it;
Let wealth and honour meet desert;
He that wins Gold may wear it.
SONG XXXVI. On Sir G. B. his Defeat.
1.
PRay why should any man complain,
Or why
disturb his breast or brain,
At this new
alteration?
Since that which has been done's no more
Than what has been done before;
And that which will be done agen,
As long's there are
ambitious men,
That strive for
domination.
2.
In this
mad age there's nothing firm▪
All things have periods and their
term,
Their
Rise and
Declinations.
Those gaudy
Nothings we admire,
Which get above, and shine like fire,
Are empty
vapours, rais'd from th'ground,
Whose mock-shine past, they quickly down
Must fall like
Exhalations.
3.
But still we
Commons must be made
A gall'd, a lame, thin, hackney
jade,
And all by turns will ride us;
This
side, and that, no matter
[...] which,
Till we are tyr'd; and then at last,
We stumble, and our riders cast,
'Cause
they'ld not
feed, nor guide us.
4.
The insulting
Clergy quite mistook,
In thinking
Kingdoms past by book,
Or
Crowns were got by prating;
'Tis not the
black-coat, but the
red,
Has power to make, or be the
head;
Nor is it words, or oathes, or tears,
But
Muskets, or full
Bandeliers,
Have power of
Legislating.
5.
The Lawyers must lay by their book,
And study
Lambert more then
Cook,
The sword's the
learned'st pleader;
Reports and
judgements will not do't,
But 'tis
Dragoons, and
Horse, and
foot:
Words are but wind, but
blows come home;
A stout tongu'd
Lawyer's but a Mome,
Compar'd to a stout
File-leader.
6.
Luck, wit, or
valour, rule all things,
They pull
down, and they set
up Kings;
All
lawes are in their bosome:
That side is alwaies
right that's
strong,
And that that's beaten must be
wrong;
And he that thinks it is not so,
Unless he's sure to
beat 'um too,
Is but a
fool t' oppose 'um.
7.
Let them impose taxes or rates,
'Tis but on those that have
estates,
[Page 116]Not such as I and thou are,
But it concerns those
worldlings, which
Are left, or made, or else grow
rich;
Such as have studied all their daies,
The
saving and the
thriving waies,
To be the
mules of power.
8.
If they reform the
Church or
State,
We'l ne'r be troubled much thereat,
Let each man take's opinion;
If we don't like the
Church you know,
Taverns are free and there we go;
And if every one would be
As clearly unconcern'd as we,
They'd ne'r fight for
Dominion.
SONG XXXVII. Against Corrupted Sack.
1.
SACK! once my comfort and my dear delight,
Dull mortals quickning spirit;
Thou didst once give
affections, wit, and
might;
Thou mad'st the
Lover, and the
Wight;
Thou mad'st one
dye, and t'other
fight;
Thou mad'st the
Poet, who made both; and thou
Inspir'dst our brains with
g
[...]nial fire till now,
Th' hast justly lost thy
honour,
'Cause th'hast▪ lost thy
power and
merit.
2.
Now we
depose thee from th'usurped
throne,
Since thou'rt
degenerate and
disloyal;
Thou hast no proper father of thine own,
But art
[...] bastard got by th'
Town,
By
Aequiv
[...]ke generation,
Thy
Bawds, the
Vintners do compound thee more,
Then
Flavel or
Besse Beer ere drugg'd a whore;
Nor
canst thou now
inspire, nor
[...]eed,
Nor cherish; but destroy all.
3.
Oh where's that sprightly Poetry and Wit,
That should endure for ever?
Had
Homer drank thy mixture, he had writ
Lines that would make the Reader spit;
Nor beyond
puns would
Pindar get;
Virgil and
Horace, if
inspir'd by thee,
Had writ but
lewd and pagan poetry;
Dull dropsi'd▪
lines, or else as dry and
raging as a Feaver.
4.
Treasons committed and contriv'd by thee,
Kingdoms and
Kings subverted;
'Tis thou makest Rulers fools and cowards bee,
And such as ought to
bend the
Knee,
Madly
invade the
Soveraignty;
Thou
throw'st us
on all
actions, vi
[...]e and fell,
First mak'st us
do, and then thou mak'st us tell;
And whom we swore to
serve,
By thee we
[...]asely have deserted▪
5.
Thou
plague of bodies and th' unnatural Nurse,
Of
Sickness and
Physitians;
Raine of wit, and strength, and fame, and purse,
[Page 118]That hast destroy'd poor mortals worse
Then the great plague, or
M
[...]rosh curse.
In
fifty nine th' hast spilt more
English bloud
Then e'r in
eighty eight the Spaniard could
By his
Armado, or can since destroy
By's
Inquisitions.
6.
Hence from my
veins, from my
desires be gone;
I loath thee and defie thee;
I'll now find out a purer
Helicon,
Which wits may safely feast upon,
And baffle thy hobgoblin
Don;
And live to see thee and thy
mungrel race,
Contemn'd and rooted out of every place;
And those thou'st
fool'd and
wrong'd like me,
For ever ever fly thee.
SONG XXXVIII. The Lamentation.
Written in 164 [...].
1.
MOurn
London, mourn▪
Bathe thy polluted
[...]oul in tears:
Return, return;
Thou hast more cause of grief, then th' hadst fo
[...]
[...] ▪
For the whole▪
Kingdo
[...] now begins
To feel thy sorrows, as they saw thy sins,
And now do no
Compassion show
Unto thy misery and wo▪
But slight thy
sufferings as thou didst theirs.
2.
Pride, towring
pride,
And boyling
lust, those fatal twins
Sit side by side,
And are become
plantations of sins.
Hence thy
Relellions first did flow,
Both to the
King above, and him below:
And fordid
floth,
The Nurse of both,
Have rais'd thy crimes to such a growth,
That sorrow must conclude as sin begins.
3.
Fire raging fire,
Shall burn thy
stately towers down,
Yet not expire;
Tygres and
Wolves, or men more savage grown,
Thy childrens brains, and thine shall dash,
And in your
bloud their guilty tallons wash;
Thy
Daughters must
Allay their lust;
Mischiefs will be on miscief thrust,
Till thy
Cap tumble, as thou mad'st the Crown▪
4.
Cry
London cry!
Now now petition for redress;
Where canst thou fly?
Thy emptied
chests augment thy heaviness,
The
Gentry and the
Commons loath,
Th' adored
Houses slight thee worse then both;
The King poor Saint,
Would help but can't:
To heav'n alone unfold thy
want▪
Thence came thy plagues, thence only pity flow'th.
SONG XXXIX. The Riddle.
Written in 1644.
1.
NO more, no more,
We are already pin'd;
And sore, and poor,
In
body and in
mind:
And yet our
sufferings have been
Less then our
sin.
Come long-desired
peace we thee implore,
And let our pains be less, or
power more.
2.
Lament, Lament,
And let thy
tears, run down,
To see the rent
Between the
Robe and
Crown;
Yet both do strive to make it more
Then 'twas before:
War like a serpent has its
head got in,
And will not end so soon as't did begin.
3.
One
body Jars,
And with its self does fight;
War meets with
wars,
And
might resisteth
might;
And both sides say they love the
King,
And peace will bring:
Yet since these fatal civil broyles begun,
Strange Riddle! both have
conquer'd, neither
won.
4.
One
God, one
King,
One true
Religion still;
In every thing
One
Law both should fulfil;
All these both sides does still pretend
That they defend:
Yet to encrease the
King and
Kingdoms woes,
Which side soever wins, good subjects lose.
5.
The
King doth swear,
That he doth fight for them;
And they declare,
They do the like for him:
Both say they wish and fight for peace,
Yet wars increase:
So between both, before our wars be gone,
Our lives and goods are lost, and we're undone.
6.
Since 'tis our curse,
To fight we know not why▪
'Tis worse and worse
The longer thus we lye:
For
war it self is but a
Nurse
To make us worse.
Come blessed
peace, we once again implore,
And let our
pains be less, or
power more.
SONG XL. On the Kings Return.
1.
LOng have we waited for a happy End
Of all our miseries and strif;
But still in vain; the
Sword-men did intend,
To make them hold for term of Life;
That our distempers might be made,
Their
everlasting livelihood and trade.
2.
They entayle their
Swords and
Guns,
And
pay, which wounded more,
Upon their
Daughters and their
Sons,
Thereby to keep us ever poor.
3.
And when the
Civil wars were past,
They civil
Government envade,
To make our taxes, and our slavery last,
Both to their
titles, and their
trade.
4.
But now we are redeem'd from all,
By our Indulgent
King;
Whose coming does prevent our fall;
With loyal and with joyful hearts we'l sing.
Chorus.
Welcome, welcome royal
May,
Welcome long desired Spring,
Many Springs and Mays we've seen,
Have brought forth what's gay and green;
But none is like this glorious day,
Which brings forth our Gracious King.
SONG XLI. A Catch.
LEt's leave off our labour, and now let's go play;
For this is our time to be jolly;
Our
plagues and our plaguers are both fled away;
To nourish our griefs is but folly.
He that won't drink and sing,
Is a Traytor to's King;
And so's he that does not look twenty years
younger,
We'l look blithe and trim,
With rejoycing at him
That is the restorer, and will be the
Prolonger,
Of all our felicity and health,
The joy of our hearts, and increase of our
wealth;
'Tis he brings our
trading, our trading brings
riches,
Our riches brings
honours, at which every
mind itches,
And our riches bring
Sack, & our Sack brings us
joy,
And our joy makes us leap, and sing
Vive le Roy.
SONG XLII. For General Monk his entertainment at Cloath-workers-Hall.
1.
RIng
Bells! and let
bone-fires out-blaze the Sun!
Let
ecchoes contribute their voice!
Since now a happy settlement's begun,
Let all things tell how all good men▪ rejoyce.
[Page 124]If these sad Lands by this,
Can but obtain the bliss
Of their desired, though abused peace;
We'l never never more
Run mad, as we have heretofore,
To buy our ruine; but all strife shall cease.
2.
The
Cobler shall edifie us no more,
Nor shall in
divinity set any stitches.
The
women we will no more hear and adore,
That preach with their husbands for the
breeches.
The
Phanatical tribe,
That will not subscribe
To the orders of
Church and of
State,
Shall be smother'd with the zeal
Of their new common-weal,
And no man will mind what
they prate.
Chorus.
We'l eat, and we'l drink, we'l dance, and we'l sing,
The
Roundheads &
Caveys no more shall be nam'd;
But all joyn together to make up the ring;
And rejoyce that the
many-headed dragon is tam'd.
'Tis
friendship and
love, that can
save us, and
arm us;
And while we all agree, there is nothing can
harm us.
SONG XLIII. The Advice.
1.
HE that a
happy life would lead,
In these dayes of
distraction,
Let him listen to me, and I will read
A
lecture without faction;
Let him want
three things,
Whence misery springs,
All which do begin with a
letter;
Let him bound his desires,
With what
nature requires,
And with
reason his humours fetter.
2.
Let not his
Wealth prodigious grow,
For that breeds cares and dangers;
Makes him hated above and envyed below,
And a constant slave to strangers.
He is happiest of all,
Whose
estate is but small,
Yet enough to delight and maintain him:
He may
do, he may say,
Having nothing to pay,
It will not quit costs to
arraign him.
3.
Nor must he be clogg'd with a
Wife;
For houshold cares incumber;
And do to one place confine a mans life,
'Cause he can't remove his lumber.
They're happiest by far,
Who unwedded are,
And forrage on all in common;
From all storms they can fly,
And if they should dy,
They ruine nor child nor woman.
4.
Nor let his brains o'rflow with
wit,
That capers o
[...]'s discretion;
'Tis costly to keep, and 'tis hard to
get,
And 'tis dangerous in the possession.
They are happiest men
Who can scarce tell ten,
And beat not their brains about reason;
They may speak what will serve,
Themselves to preserve,
And their words are ne'r taken for
treason.
5.
But of all fools there is none like the
Wit,
For he takes pains to shew it;
When his
pride, or his
drink, work him into a fit;
Then straight he must be a Poet:
Then his
Jests he flings,
Both at
States and at
Kings,
For
Applause, and for
Bayes and
Shadows:
Thinks a verse saves as well
As a circle or a spell,
'Till he rhithmes himself to the
Barbadoes.
6.
He that within these bounds can live,
May baffle all disasters;
To
Fortune and
Fates commands he may give,
Which worldlings make their masters.
He may sing, he may laugh,
He may dance, he may quaff;
May be mad, may be sad, may be jolly;
He may sleep without care,
And wake without fear,
And laugh at the whole world, and its folly.
BALLADS.
I. The Satyr of Money.
1.
IT is not the
Silver or
Gold of its self,
That makes men adore it; but 'tis for its power:
For no man does dote upon pelf, because pelf;
But all court the Lady in hopes of her
Dower.
The wonders that now in our daies we behold,
Done by th' irresistible power of Gold,
Our
Love, and our
Zeal, and
Allegiance do mould.
5.
This purchaseth
Kingdoms, Kings, Scepters, &
Crowns;
Wins
Battels, and conquers the
Conquerors bold;
Takes
Bulwarks, and
Castles, and
Armies, and
Towns,
Our prime
Laws, are written in letters of
Gold:
'Tis this that our
Parliaments calls, and creates;
Turns
Kings into
Keepers, and
Kingdoms to
States,
And
Peopledoms this into
High-doms translates.
3.
This
plots doth
devise, then
discovers what th' are;
This makes the great
folons the lesser condemn:
Sets those on the
bench that should stand at the
bar;
Who judge such as by right, ought to
execute them:
Gives the
boystrous Clown his unsufferable pride;
Make
[...]
Beggers, and
[...]ols, and
usurpers to
[...]ide,
While ruin'd
properties run by their side.
4.
Stamp either the arms of the
State, or the
King,
St.
George or the
breeches, C. R. or
O. P.
The
Cross and the fiddle, 'tis all the same thing.
This still is the
Queen, who e're the King be.
This lines mens
Religion, builds doctrines and truth,
With zeal, and the spirit; the
factious endu'th,
To club with St.
Katherine, or sweet sister
Ruth.
5.
This made our black
Senate to sit still so long;
To make themselves
rich by making us
poor;
This made our bold
Army so daring, and strong;
And that made them drive 'um like
Geese out of door.
'Twas this made the
Covenant-makers to make it;
And this made our
Levites to make us to take it;
And this made both
makers and
takers forsake it.
6.
This spawn'd the dunghil crew of
Committees and '
Strators,
Who lived by picking their
Parliaments Gums;
This made, and then prospered
Rebels and
Traytors,
And made
Gentry of those that were the Nations
scums.
Gives
Coats unto such, as did sell coats before;
If their nockers be lin'd but with
Argent and
Or.
7.
'Tis this makes the
Lawyer give
judgment and
pledd,
On this side, or that side, on both sides or neither,
This makes
Yeomen Clerks, that can scarce write or read,
And spawns arbitrary orders as various as the weather:
This makes the
blew-lecturor pray, preach and prate,
Without
reason or
truth against
K. Church, or
State,
To shew the thin lyning of his twice-cover'd pa
[...]e.
8.
'Tis this that makes
Earls, Lords, Knights, &
Esquires,
Without breeding, discent, wit, learning, or merit;
Makes
Ropers and
Ale-drapers Sheriffs of Shires,
Whose
trade's not so low, nor so base as their
spirits
This
Justices makes, and wise ones we know;
Furr'd
Aldermen likewise, and
Mayors also,
Makes the old wife to trot, and makes the Mare go.
9.
This makes the
blew aprons write themselves worshipful,
And for this we stand
bare, and before 'um do
fall;
They leave their young
Heirs well fleeced with wool,
whom we're to call
Squires, and they're to pay all;
Who with beggarly souls, though their bodies are gawdy,
Court the
pale Chamber-maid, and nick-name her a
Lady;
And for want of discourse they do swear and talk baudy.
10.
For money mens lives may be purchas'd and sold,
'Tis money breaks laws, and that mends 'um again;
Men venture their quiet and safety for gold,
When they won't stir a foot their rights to
maintain.
This Doctors createth of Dunces, and those,
Commanders that use to pollute their hose;
This buyes the
spruce gallant his
verse and his
prose.
11.
This marriages makes, 'tis the centre of love;
It draws on the man, and it pricks up the woman;
Birth, vertue, and
parts, no affection can move,
While this makes
Lords bow to the brat of a
Broom-man.
Gives vertue, and beauty to the lass that you woe,
Makes women of all
sorts and
ages to do;
'Tis the
soul of the world, and the worldling too.
12.
This
horses procures you, and
hawks, hounds, and
hares;
'Tis this keeps your
Groom, and your
Groom keeps your
Geldings;
It buyes
Citizens wives as well as their wares,
And makes your coy
Ladies so
coming and
yielding;
This buyes us good Sack, which revives like the spring;
This gives the
poetical fancies their wing;
This makes you as merry as we that do sing.
11. Upon a Sign-post, set up at Skoale in Norfolk.
1.
DId none of you hear,
Of a wonder last year;
That through all
Norfolk did ring;
Of an
Inn and an
Host,
With a
Sign and a
post,
That might hold
(God bless us) the King.
2.
The building is great,
And very compleat,
But cann't be compar'd to the
sign;
But within doors, I think
's scarce a drop of good drink,
For
Bacchus drinks all the best
wine.
3.
But here's the design,
What's amiss in the
Wine,
By
wenches shall be supply'd;
There's three on a row
Stands out for a show,
To draw in the
Gallants that ride.
4.
The first of the three,
Diana should be,
But she cuckolded poor
Actaeon,
And his head she adorns
With such visible horns,
That he's fit for his hounds for to prey on.
5.
'Tis unsafe we do find
To trust Women kind,
Since horning's a part of their trade;
Diana is plac't
As a
Goddess that's chast,
Yets
Actaeon a
Monster she made.
6.
The next wench doth stand,
With the
scales in her hand,
And is ready to come at your beck;
A new trick they've found,
To sell Sack by the pound,
But 'twere better they'd sell't by the
peck.
7.
The last of the three
They say
prudence must be,
With the
serpent and
horn of plenty;
But
plenty and
wit
So seldom doth hit,
That they fall not to
one in
twenty.
8.
But above these things all,
Stands a fellow that's small,
With a
Quadrant discerning the
wind,
And says hee's a fool
That travels from
Skoale,
And leaves his good liquor behind.
9.
Near the top of the sign,
Stand three on a line,
One is
Temperance, still powring out;
And
Fortitude will
Drink what
Temperance fill,
And fears not the stone or the gout.
10.
The next to these three,
You'l an
Usurer see,
With a
prodigal child in his mouth;
'Tis
Time (as some say)
And well so it may,
For they be devourers both.
11.
The last that you stare on,
Is old father
Charon,
Who's wafting a wench o'r the ferry;
Where
Cerberus do's stand,
To watch where they land,
And together they go to be merry.
12.
Now to see such a change,
Is a thing that is strange,
That one, who as stories do tell us,
His money has lent
At fifty
per cent,
A Colledge should build for
good fellows.
13.
But under this work,
Does a mystery lurk,
That shews us the founders design;
He has chalk'd out the way
For
Gallants to stray,
That their lands may be his in fine?
14.
That's first an
Ale-bench,
Next
hounds, then a
wench,
With these three to
roar and to
revel;
[Page 136]Brings the prodigals lands,
To the
Usurers hands,
And his body and soul to the
Devil.
15.
Now if you would know,
After all this adoe,
By what name this
sign should be known;
Some call't this, and some that,
And some I know not what;
But 'tis many signs in one.
16.
'Tis a sign that who built it,
Had more money then wit,
And more
wealth then he got or can use;
'Tis a sign that all we
Have less wit then he,
That come thither to drink, and may chuse.
III.
A new Diurnal of passages, more
Exactly drawn up then heretofore.
Printed and published, 'tis order'd to be
By
Henry Elsing the Clerk of the
P.
June 1. 1643.
SInce many
Diurnals (for which we are griev'd,
Are come from both Houses, & are not believ'd
The better to help them for running and flying,
We have put them in
Verse, to Authorise their lying
For it has been debated, and found to be true,
That lyings a
Parliament Priviledge too:
[Page 137]And that they may the sooner our conquests reherse'
We are minded to put them in
Galloping verse:
But so many maim'd Souldiers from
Reading there came,
That in spite of the
Surgeons, make our verses go lame.
We have ever us'd Fictions, and now it is known,
Our
Poverty has made us
Poetical grown.
Munday.
On
Munday both
Houses fell into debate,
And were likely to fall by the
ears as they sate;
Yet would they not have the business decided,
That they (as the Kingdom is) might be divided.
They had an intention to Prayers to go,
But
Extempore Prayers are now Common too.
To
Voting they fall; and the key of the work,
Was the raising of
money for the
State and the
Kirk.
'Tis only-Free-loan; yet this order they make,
That what men would not lend, the should Plunder and take.
Upon this, the word
Plunder came into their mind,
And they all did labour a new one to find:
They call'd it
distraining, yet thought it no shame,
To persist in the
Act, which they blush't for to
name.
They Voted all persons from
Oxford that came,
Should be apprehended: and after the same,
With an Humble Petition, the
King they request,
Hee'd be pleas'd to return, and be serv'd like the rest.
A message from
Oxford conducing to
peace,
Came next to their hands, that
Armes might cease.
They Voted, and Voted, and still they did vary,
Till at last the whole
sense of the House was contrary
What neither true
reason, nor
Law can maintain.
Cessation was voted a dangerous plot;
Because the
King would have it, both
Houses would no
[...].
But when they resolv'd it, abroad must be blown,
(To baffle the
world) that the
King would have none.
And carefully
muzled the mouth of the
press,
Lest the truth should peep through their jugling dress.
For they knew a
cessation would work them more harms,
Then
Essex could do the
Cavaliers with his
arms.
While they keep the
Ships and the
Forts in their hand,
They may be
Traytors by
Sea, as well as by
Land.
The
Forts will preserve them as long as they stay,
And the Ships carry them and their
plunder away.
They have therefore good
reason to account
war the better,
For the Law will prove to them but a
killing letter.
Tuesday.
A
Post from his
Excellence came blowing his
Horn,
For
Money to advance, and this spun out the
Morn;
And strait to the
City some went for relief,
The rest made an
Ordinance to carry
Powder-Beef.
Thus go up the Round-heads, and
Essex advances,
But only to lead his
Souldiers new dances.
To
Reading he goes, for at
Oxford (they say)
His wife has made Bull-works to keep him away.
Prince
Rnpert, for fear that the name be confounded,
Will
saw off his horns, and make him a Round-head.
[Page 139]The newes was returned with General fame,
That
Reading was taken ere ever he came:
Then away Rode our
Captains, and Souldiers did run,
To shew themselves
valiant, when the
Battail was done,
Preparing to
plunder, but as soon as they came,
They quickly perceived it was but a
flam:
An
Ordinance of
Parliament Essex brought down;
But that would not serve him to
batter the
Town.
More money was rais'd, more
Men and
Ammunition,
Carts loaded with
Turnips, and other
provision.
His Excellence had Chines and Rams-heads for a present,
And his
Councel of War had
Wood-cock and
Pheasant:
But
Ven had 5000. Calves heads all in carts,
To nourish his
Men and to chear up their
hearts:
This made them so valiant, that that very day,
They had taken the Town but for
running away.
'Twas Ordered this
day, that
thanksgiving be made,
To the
Round-heads in Sermons, for their
beef, and their
bread,
Wednesday.
Two
Members this day at a
Conference sate,
And one gives the other a
knock on the pate.
This set them a
voting, and the
upper House swore,
'Twas a breach of
priviledge he gave him no more.
The
lower the breaking their
Members head voted
A breach of their priviledge; for it is to be noted,
That Treason and Priviledge in it did grow;
'Twas a breach of his
Crown and dignity too.
Then came in the
Women with a long long
petition,
To settle
Militia and damn the
Commission.
[Page 140]For if
fighting continue, they say they did fear,
That
Men would be scarce, and
Husbands be dear:
So plainly the
Speaker the business unties,
That presently all the
Members did rise:
They had hardly the leisure all things to lay ope,
But some felt in their
Bellies if they had not a
Pope;
Some strictly stood to them, and others did fear,
Each carried about them a fierce
Cavalier:
This business was handled by the
Close-Committee,
That privately met at a place in the City:
So closely to voting the
Members did fall,
That the humble Sisters were overthrown all:
But they and their helpers came short at the last,
Till at length the whole work on Prince
Gri
[...]ith was cast;
And he with his troup did handle the matter,
He pleased every Woman, as soon as he came at her.
The business had like to have gone on their side,
Had not
Pym perswaded them not to confide.
For rather then peace, to fill the Common-wealth,
He said hee'd do
ten every night himself.
Thursday.
This day a great
fart in the house they did hear,
Which made all the
Members make
buttons for fear;
And one makes nine
speeches while the business was, hot,
And spake through the
nose that he smelt out the plot.
He takes it to task, and the
Articles drawes,
As a breach of their own
Fundamental laws.
Now
Letters were read which did fully relate
A victory against
New-Castle of late;
And all this was got ere the battel begun:
This then they resolved to make the best on;
And next they
resolved upon the Question,
That
Bonfires and
praises, the Pulpit and Steeple,
Must all be
suborned to couzen the People:
But the policy was more money to get,
For the conquest's dear bought, and far enough fet;
Such victories in
Ireland, although it be known,
They strive to make that Land as bad as our own▪
No sooner the money for this was brought hither,
But a croud of
true Letters came flocking together,
How
Hotham and's army, and others were beaten.
This made the blew
Members to startle and threaten:
And these by all means must be kept from the City,
And only referred to the
Privy-Committee:
And they presently with an
Extempore Vote,
(which they have used so long, that they learned by rote,)
They stil'd them
malignant, and to lies they did turn them,
Then
Corbet in stead of the Hangman, must burn them:
And he after that an
Ordinance draws,
That▪ none should tell truth that disparag'd the
cause.
Then
P. like a
Pegasus trots up and down,
And takes up an angel to throw down a Crown:
He stands like a Centaure and makes a long speech,
That came from his mouth, and part from his breech:
He moves for more Horse, that the Army may be
Part
Mans-flesh and
Horse-flesh, as well as he;
And hee'l be a
Colonel as well as another,
But durst not ride a
horse, 'cause a
horse rode his Mother.
Friday.
Sir
Hugh Cholmley for being no longer a
Traytor,
Was accus'd of
treason in the highest Nature;
'Cause he (as they bad him) his
Souldiers did bring,
To turn from
Rebellion, and fight for the
King:
They
voted him out, but, nor they nor their men
Could vote him into the
house agen.
Sir
David's Remonstrance next to them was read,
From the Cities round body, and
Isaac's the head:
'Twas approv'd; but one cause produc'd a denial,
That all
Traytors be brought to a
Legal trial:
For 'tis against
reason to vote or to do
Against
Traytors when they are no other but so;
Because about nothing so long they sit still,
They hold it convenient
Diurnals to fill:
And therefore they gave their
Chronographer charge
To stuffe it with
Orders and
Letters at large.
The
King by's
Prerogative, nor by the
Law,
Can speak, nor print nothing his people to draw:
Yet
Penny-les Pampleters they do maintain,
Whose only Religion is Stipendary gain.
Who
Cum Privilegio, against King and the State,
The
treason that's taught them (like
Parrats) they prate.
These Hackneys are licenc't what ever they do,
As if they had Parliament
priviledge too.
Thus then they consult; so zealous they are,
To settle the
peace of the Kingdom by
war:
But against
Civil war their hatred is such,
To prevent it they'l bring in the
Scots and the
Dutch.
They had rather the
Land be destroy'd in a minute,
Then abide any thing that has
loyalty in it;
[Page 143]And yet their
rebellion so neatly they trim,
They fight for the
King, but they mean for King
Pym
These all to fight for, and maintain are sent
The Lawes of
England: but
New-England is meant;
And though such disorders are broke in of late,
They keep it the
Anagram still of a State:
For still they are plotting more
riches to bring,
To make
Charles a rich and glorious
King;
And by this
rebellion this good they will do him,
They'l forfeit all their
Estates unto him.
No
Clergy must meddle in
Spiritual affairs,
But
Layton ne'r heard of it, losing his ears,
For that he might be deaf to the prisoners cries,
To a spiritual
Goalers place he must rise.
The rest have good reason for what they shall do,
For they are both
Clergy and
Laity too:
Or else at the best, when the question is stated,
They are but
Mechannicks newly translated.
They may be
Committees to practise their bawling,
For stealing of horses is a spiritual calling.
The reason why people our
Martyrs adore,
'Cause their ears being cut off, their fame sounds the more.
'Twas ordered the Goods of
Malignants and Lands,
Shall be shar'd among them, and took into their hands.
They send
spirits for more
malignants to come,
That every one in the house may have some.
Then down to
Guild-hall they return with their thanks,
To the
fools whom the
Lottery has cheated with
blanks.
Saturday.
This day there came
news of the taking a
Ship,
(To see what strange
wonders are wrought in the deep)
That a
troop of their
Horse ran into the Sea,
And pull'd out a
Ship alive to the
key;
And after much
prating and
fighting they say,
The ropes serv'd for
traces to draw her away:
Sure these were
Sea-horses, or else by their lying
They'ld make them as famous for
swimming as
flying.
The rest of the
day they spent to bemoan
Their Brother the
Round-head that to
Tyburn was gone,
And could not but think it a barbarous thing,
To hang him for killing a friend to the
King:
He was newly
baptized, and held it was good
To be washed, yet not in
water, but
blood.
They ordered for his honour to cut off his
ears,
And make him a
Martyr; but a
Zelot appears,
And affirm'd him a
Martyr, for though 'twas his fate
To be
hang'd, yet he dy'd for the good of the
State.
Then all fell to
plotting of matters so deep,
That the silent
Speaker fell down fast asleep:
He recovers himself and rubs up his eyes,
Then
motions his house that 'twas time to rise.
So home they went all, and their business referr'd
To the Close-Committee by them to be heard;
They took it upon them, but what they did do,
Take
notice that none but
themselves must know.
Postscript.
Thus far we have gone in
Rhithm to disclose,
What never was utter'd by any in
prose;
If any be
wanting, 'twas but a mishap,
Because we forgot to weigh't by the
map;
For over the
Kingdom their
orders were spread,
They have made the whole
body as bad as the
head;
And now made such work, that all they can do,
Is but to read
Letters and
answer them too.
We thought to make
Finis the end of the story,
But that we shall have more business for you.
For (as their proceedings do) so shall our
Pen,
Run roundly from
Munday to
Munday agen.
And since we have begun, our Muse doth intend▪
To have (like their
votes) no
beginning nor
end.
IV. On the demolishing the Forts.
IS this the end of all the toil,
And labour of the
Town?
And did our
Bulwarks rise so high,
Thus low to
tumble down?
All things go by
contraries now,
We
fight to
still the Nation,
Build Forts to pull down
popery,
Pull down for
Edification.
These
Independents tenets, and
Their waies so pleasing be,
Our
City won't be bound about,
But stands for
liberty.
The
Popish doctrine shall no more
Prevail within our Nation;
For now we see that by our
works,
There's no
Justification.
What an
Almighty army's this,
How worthy of our praising,
That with one vote can
blow down that;
All we so long were raising!
Yet let's not wonder at this change,
For thus 'twill be withall:
These
works did lift themselves too high,
And
pride must have a fall.
And when both
Houses vote agen,
The
Cavies to be gone;
Nor dare to come within the lines,
Of
Communication:
They must reserve the
sense, or else
Refer't to the
Divines,
And they had need sit
seven years more,
Ere they can read those
lines.
They went to make a
Gotham on't,
For now they did begin
To build these mighty banks about,
To keep the
Cuckoes in.
Alas what need they take such pains!
For why a
Cucko here,
Might find so many of his
mates,
Hee'l sing here all the year.
Has
Isaac our
L. Mayor, L. Mayor,
With
Tradesmen and with
wenches,
Spent so much time, and cakes and beer,
To
edifie these
trenches!
All
trades did shew their skill in this,
Each wife an
Engineer:
The
Mayoress took the tool in hand,
The
maids the stones did bear.
These
Bulwarks stood for
Popery,
And yet we never fear'd 'um.
And now they worship and fall down,
Before those
calves that rear'd 'um.
But though for
superstition,
The
crosses have been down'd,
Who'ld think these works would
Popish turn,
That ever have been round?
This spoils our
Palmistry; for when
Wee'l read the Cities fate,
We find nor
lines nor
crosses now,
As it hath had of late.
No wonder that the
Aldermen,
Will no more money lend,
When they that in this seven years,
Such learned
works have penn'd.
Now to debase their lofty
lines,
In which the
wits delighted,
'Tis thought they'l ne'r turn
Poets more,
Because their
works are slighted.
These to a doleful
tune are set,
For they that in the town,
Did every where cry
Up go we,
Now they must sing
down down.
But if that
Tyburn do remain,
When t' other
slighted be,
The
City will thither flock and sing,
Hay, hay, then up go we.
V. The Clown.
1.
AH surra, is't a come to this?
That all our
Weez-men do zo miss?
Esdid think zo much avore,
Have we kept veighting here zo long.
To zell our
Kingdom vor a zong,
O that ever chwor a bore!
2.
Echave a be a
Cavaliero,
Like most
weeze-men that escood hear, o.
And shoor sdid wish 'um well,
But within sdid zee how the did go
To cheat the
King and
Countrey too,
Esbid 'um all
vorwell.
3.
Thoo whun the
club-men wor so thick,
Esput my zive upon a stick.
And about eswent among 'um;
And by my troth esdid suppose
That they were honester then those
That now do zwear they'l
hang 'um.
4.
Was't not enow to make men vite,
When villains come by de and night,
To
plunder and undoe▪ 'um;
And
Garizons did vet all in,
And steep the
Countrey to the skin,
And we zed nothing to 'um?
5.
But we had zoon a
scurvy pluck,
The better
Men, the worser luck;
We had
knaves and
vools among us▪
Zome turn'd, zome
cowards run away,
And left a vew behind to try,
And bloudy
rogues to bang us:
6.
But now 'tis a come to a scurvy matter,
Cham in the house of the
Surgan-strater,
That have no
grace, nor
pitty;
But here they peel, and pole, and squeeze;
And when cha' paid them all their fees,
They turn me to the
mittee.
7.
Like
furies they zit three and three,
And all their plots to begger we,
Like
Pilate and the
Jews;
[Page 150]And zome do ze that both do know,
Of thick above, and those below,
'Tis not a turd to chose.
8.
But tho Echood redeem my
grown,
Es went to
London to compoun,
And ride through ween and weather;
Estaid there eight and twonty week,
And chowor at last zo much to
zeek,
As when Es vur'st come thither.
9.
There whun's zeed voke to Church repair,
Espi'd about vor
Common-Prayer;
But no zuch thing scould zee.
The zed the
Common'st that was there,
Was vrom a
tub, or a
wicker chair;
They call'd it
stumpere.
10.
Es hur'd 'um
pray, and every word,
As the wor sick, they cri'd
O Lord:
And thoo ston still agen,
And vor my life escould not know,
Whun they
begun or had
ado,
But when they zed
amen,
11.
They have a new word, 'tis not
preach,
Zdo think zome o'me did call it
teach;
A
trick of their devizing:
And there zo good a
nap sdid vet,
Till 'twas adoo, that's past zun-zet,
As if 'twor but zun-rising.
12.
At night zo zoon's chwar into bed,
Sdid all my prayers without book read;
[Page 151]My Creed and
Pater noster:
Me think zet all their
prayers to thick,
And they do goo no more a leek,
Then an Apple's like an Oyster.
13.
Chad nead to
watch, zo well as
pray,
Whun chave to-do with zuch as they,
Or else Es may go zeek;
They need not bid a monthy vast;
Vor if zoo be these times do last,
Twool come to zeav'n a weak.
14.
Es waited there a
huges time,
And
brib'd thick men to know my crime,
That esmed make my
peace,
At last esvown my
purse was vat,
And if chwould be
reform'd of that,
They wood give me a
release.
15.
Esgid 'um
bond voor neenscore pown,
Bezides what chad a
paid 'um down,
And thoo they made me
swear,
Whun chad a reckon'd what my cost are,
Es swear'd chood ene zit down aloster,
Vor by my troth chawr
weary.
16.
Thoo when scome home esbote some
beass,
And chowr in hope we should ha'
peace,
Case here's no
Cavaliers,
But now they zed's a new quandary,
Tween
Pendents and
Presbytary,
Cham
agast they'l go by the ears.
17.
Esbore in hon 'twould never last,
The
mittees did get wealth zo vast,
And
Gentlemen undoo;
Uds wonderkins toold make one mad,
That three or four livings had,
Now can't tell whare to goo.
18.
Chazeed the time when escood gee
My
dater more then zix of the:
But now by bribes and
stortions;
Zome at our wedden ha bestow'd
In
Gloves more then avore this wood
A made three daters
portions.
19.
One om ow'd me
three hundred pown,
Es zend vor zome, he paid it down;
But within
three daies ater,
Ech had a
ticket to restore
The same agen, and
six times more;
Is'nt this a
couzning matter!
20.
Whun chood not do't smot to
black-rod,
A place was ne'r a made by
God,
And there chowr vain to lye,
Till chad a gidd'n up his
bon,
And paid a
hundred more in hon,
And thoo smed come awy.
21.
Nay now they have a good hon made;
What if the
Scots should play the jade,
And keep awy our
King?
War they not mad in all these dangers,
To go and trust the
King with strangers?
Was ever such a thing?
22.
We ha' nor
scrip nor
scrole to show▪
Whether it be our
King or no;
And if they should deny an,
They'l make us
vight vor'n once more,
As well's agenst'n heretovore,
How can we else come by'n.
23.
We had been better paid 'um down
Their
vorty hundred thousand pown,
And zo a zet 'um gwine,
Vor cham agast avore the goo,
The'l hav' our
grown and
mony too,
Cham sore afeard of mine.
24.
Another trick they do devize,
The
vive and twonty part and
size;
And there at every meeting,
We pay vor
wives and
childrens pole,
More then they'l ever yield us whole,
'Tis abomination
cheating.
25.
We can nor eat, nor drink; nor lye;
We our own
wives by and by;
We pay to
knaves that couzen;
My dame and I ten children made,
But now we do gee off the trade,
Vor fear should be a douzen.
26.
Then lets to
clubs agen and vight,
Or let's take it all out right;
Vor thus they mean to sare,
[Page 154]All thick be
right, they'l strip and use,
And deal with them as bad as
Jews;
All custen voke beware.
VI. On a Butchers Dog that bit a Commanders Mare, that stood to be Knight of a Shire.
1.
ALL you that for Parliament
Members do stand,
For
County, Burrough, or
City;
Listen now to my song, which is doleful for, and
A lamentable ditty.
2.
For you must take notice that there was a Dog,
Nay a Mastiff-dog (d'you see)
And if this great
Dog were ty'd to a great clog,
It had been full
happy for we.
3.
And eke there was a great
Colonel stout,
That had been in many a slaughter;
But this
Mastiff to eat him was going about,
As you shall hear hereafter.
4.
You bloudy
Malignants, why will you still plot?
'Twill bring you to hanging you know.
For if this
Dog had done what he did not,
How had he been us'd I trow!
5.
But happy was it for sweet
Westminster,
When they went to make their choice;
[Page 155]That this plot was found out, for why should this
[...]ur
In
Elections have any voyce?
6.
For surely this
Mastiff, though he was big,
And had been lucky at fighting;
Yet he was not
qualifi'd worth a fig,
And therefore he fell a
biting!
7.
But whom do you think? A thing of great note,
And a worthy
Commanders Mare;
O what a strange battel had there been fought,
Had they gone to
fight dog, fight bear!
8.
This Dog was a
Leveller in his heart,
Or some
Tub-preaching Cur;
For honour or greatness he car'd not a
fart,
And lov'd neither
Lord nor
Sir:
9.
For when the
Commander was mounted on high,
And got above many a brother,
It angred this dog at the guts
verily,
To see one man above another;
10.
And therefore he run at him with open mouth,
But it seems the
Dog was but dull,
He had as good
took a bear by the tooth,
As mistook a horse for a
bull:
11.
But this
plot was discover'd in very good time,
And strangely, as you may perceive,
For the
people saw him committing this crime;
And made him his biting leave.
12.
And so they were parted without any harm,
That now any body seeth,
For it seems this
Dog that made all this
alarm,
Did but only shew his teeth.
13.
So this
Cavalier cur was beaten full sore,
And had many a
knock on the pate,
But they serv'd him aright if they had beat him more,
For medling with matters of State.
14.
Now heaven look down on our noble
Protector,
His
Commanders and
Members eke,
And keep him from the teeth of every
Elector,
That is not able to
speak.
15.
And hang all such
dogs as their honours do hate,
Let them clear themselves if they can,
For if they be suffered to be in the
State,
They'l conspire against
horse and man.
VII. The new Knight Errant.
1.
OF
Gyants and
Knights, & their wonderful
fights,
We have stories enough in
Romances;
But I'll tell you one new, that is
strange and yet
true,
Though t' other are nothing but fancies.
2.
A
Knight lately made of the
Governing trade,
Whose name he'l not have to be known;
For 'tis said he had none of his own.
3.
He by Fortunes design, should have been a
Divine,
And a pillar no doubt of the Church;
Whom a
Sexton (God wot) in the
belfry begot,
And his Mother did pig in the porch.
4.
And next for his breeding, 'twas learned
hog-feeding,
With which he so long did converse,
That his
manners and
feature, was so like their
nature,
You'ld scarce know his
sweetness from theirs.
5.
But observe the device of this
Noblemans rise,
How he hurried from trade to trade;
For the
grains he'd aspire to the
yest; & then
higher,
Till at length he a
Dray-man was made.
6.
Then his
dray-horse and
he, in the streets we did see,
With his
hanger, his
sling, and his
jacket;
Long time he did
watch, to meet with his
match;
For he'd ever a mind to the
placket.
7.
At length he did find, out a
Trull to his mind,
And
Ursula was her name;
O Ursly quoth he, and O Tom then quoth she,
And so they began their game.
8.
But as soon as they met, O such
babes they did get,
And bloud-royal in 'um did place:
From a
swine-herd they came, a
she-bear was their Dam;
They were suckled as
Romulus was.
9.
At last when the rout, with their head did fall out,
And the wars thereupon did fall in,
He went to the
field, with a sword, but no shield,
Strong drink was his
buckler within:
10.
But when he did spy, how they dropt down and die,
And did hear the
bullets to sing;
His
arms he flung down, and run fairly to town,
And exchang'd his
sword for his
sling:
11.
Yet he claimed his share, in such
honours as were
Belonging to nobler
spirits;
That ventur'd their
lives, while this
Buffon survives,
To receive the reward of their merits.
12.
When the wars were all done, he his
fighting begun,
And would needs shew his valour in peace;
Then his fury he flings, at poor conquer'd things,
And frets like
a hog in his grease;
13.
For his first feat of all, on a
Wit he did fall,
A
wit as some say, and some not;
Because he'd an art, to rhithm on the quart,
But never did care for the pot;
14.
And next on the
cocks, he fell like an
Ox,
And took them and their
Masters together;
But the
combs and the
spurs, kept himself & his
Sirs,
Who are to have
both or neither.
15.
The cause of his spite, was because they would
fight,
And, because he durst not, he did take-on;
And would serve to be eaten with
bacon.
16.
But flesh'd with these spoyles, the next of his
toyles,
Was to fall with
wild-beasts by the ears,
To the
Bear-ward he goeth, & then opened his
mouth;
And said,
oh! are you there with your bears.
17.
Our stories are dull,
of a cock and a bull,
But such was his valour and care:
Since he bears the
bell, the tales that we tell,
Must be of
a cock and a bare.
18.
The crime of the
bares was, they were
Caveliers,
And had formerly fought for the
King;
And pull'd by the
Burrs, the round-headed
Currs,
That they made both their ears to ring.
19.
Our successour of Kings, like blind fortune, flings
Upon him both honour and store:
Who has as much right, to make
Tom a Knight,
As
Tom has desert, and no
more.
20.
But
Fortune that whore, still attended this
Brewer,
And did all his
atchievements reward;
And blindly did
fling, on this lubberly
thing,
More
honour, and made him a
Lord.
21.
Now he walks with his
spurs, and a couple of
curs
At his heels, which he calls
Squires:
So when
honour is
thrown on the head of a
clown;
'Tis by
Parasites held up, and
Lyars.
22.
The rest of his
pranks, will merit new
thanks,
With his
death, if we did but know it;
But we'l leave him and it, to a time and place fit,
And
Greg. shall be
funeral Poet.
VIII. The New Mountebank.
Written in 1643.
IF any body politick,
Of plenty or ease be very sick,
There's a Physician come to Town,
Of far fetcht fame and high renown;
Though call'd a
Mountebank, 'tis meant,
Both words being French, a
Parliament;
Who from
Geneva and
Amsterdam,
From
Germany and
Scotland came;
Now lies in
London; but the place,
If men say true, is
in his face.
His Scaffold stands on
Tower-hill,
When he on
Strafford try'd his skill;
Off went his head, you'l think him slain;
But straight 'twas voted on again.
Diurnals are his
weekly-bills,
Which speak how many he cures or kills:
But of the
Errata we'l advise,
For
cure read
kill, for
truth read
lies.
If any Traytor be diseased
with a sore-neck, and would be eased;
There is a
pill, they call a
Vote,
Take it
ex tempore it shall do't.
[Page 161]If any conscience be to strict,
Here's several
p
[...] from
Lectures pickt,
Which swallowed down will stretch it full,
As far as 'tis from this to
Hull.
Is any by
Religion bound,
Or Law, and would be looser found;
Here's a
Glister which we call
His
priviledge o'r-topping all.
Is any
money left, or
plate,
Or goods? bring't in at any rate:
He'l melt three
shillings into one,
And in a minute leave you
none.
Here's
powder to inspire the lungs,
Here's
water that unties your tongues;
Spight of the
Law, 'twill set you free,
To speak treason only lispingly.
Here's
Leeches, which if well apply'd,
And fed, will stick close to your fide,
Till your superfluous
bloud decay,
Then they'l break and drop away.
But here's a soveraign
Antidote,
Be sure our Soveraign never know't;
Apply it as the
Doctour pleases,
'Twill cure all wounds and all diseases.
A drug none but himself e're saw,
'Tis call'd a
Fundamental Law:
Here's
Glasses to delude your sight,
Dark
Lanthorns here, here
bastard light.
This if you conquer
trebbles the men,
If loose a hundred, seems but ten.
Here's
Opium to lull asleep,
And here lie dangerous
plots in steep.
Here stands the safety of the City,
There hangs the invisible
Committee.
[Page 162]
Plundring's the new Philosophers stone,
Turns war to
Gold, and Gold to
[...]e:
And here's an
Ordinance that shall,
At one full shot enrich you all.
He's skilled in the
Mathematicks,
And in his
circle can do tricks,
By raising
spirits, that can smell
Plots that are hatcht as deep as hell:
Which ever to themselves are known,
The Devil's ever kind to his own.
All this he
gratis doth, and
saith,
He'l only take the
Publick Faith,
Flock to him then make no delay,
The next fair
wind he must away,
IX. The Saints Encouragement.
Written in 1643.
FIght on brave Souldiers for the cause,
Fear not the
Caveliers;
Their threatnings are as senseless, as
Our
Jealousies and
fears.
'Tis you must
perfect this great work,
And all
Malignants slay,
You must bring back the
King again
The clean contrary way.
'Tis for
Religion that you fight,
And for the
Kingdoms good,
By
robbing Churches, plundring men;
And
shedding guiltless blood.
[Page 163]Down with the
Orthodoxal train,
All Loyal Subjects slay;
When these are
gone, we shall be blest,
The clean contrary way.
When
Charle
[...] we've
bankrupt made like us,
Of
Crown and
power bereft him;
And all his loyal subjects
slain,
And
none but
Rebels left him.
When we've beggar'
d all the
Land,
And
sent our
Truncks away;
We'l make him then a glorious
Prince,
The clean contrary way.
'Tis to preserve his Majesty,
That we
against him fight,
Nor are we ever
beaten back,
Because our cause is right;
If any make a scruple on't,
Out
Declarations say,
Who fight for us, fight for the
King,
The clean contrary way.
At
Keynton, Branford, Plymmouth, York,
And divers places more;
What victories we
Saints obtain'd,
The like ne'r seen before!
How often we Prince
Rupert kill'd,
And bravely
won the day,
The wicked
Caveliers did run
The clean contrary way.
The true
Religion we
maintain,
The
Kingdomes peace, and plenty;
[Page 164]The priviledge of
Parliament
Not known to
one of
twenty:
The ancient
Fundamental Laws,
And teach men to obey;
Their Lawful
Soveraign, and all these,
The clean contrary way.
We subjects Liberties preserve,
By
prisonment and
plunder,
And do inrich our selves and state
By keeping the
wicked under.
We must preserve
Mecannicks now,
To
Lecturize and pray;
By them the
Gospel is advanc'd,
The clean contrary way.
And though the King be much
misled
By that
malignant crew;
He'l find us honest, and at last,
Give all of us our due.
For we do wisely plot, and plot,
Rebellion to destroy,
He sees we stand for
peace and
truth,
The clean contrary way.
The
publick faith shall save our souls,
And good
out-works together;
And
ships shall save our lives, that stay
Only for wind and weather.
But when our
faith and
works fall down,
And all our hopes decay,
Our
Acts will bear us up to
heaven,
The clean contrary way.
X.
Written in 1648.
COme let us be merry,
Drink
Claret and
Sherry,
And cast away care and sorrow;
He's a fool that takes thought for to morrow.
Why should we be droopers,
To save it for
Troopers.
Let's spend our own,
And when all is gone,
That they can have none,
Then the Roundheads and Cavies agree.
2.
Then fall to your drinking,
And leave of this shrinking;
Let
Square-heads and
Round-heads go quarrel,
We have no other foe but the barrel;
These cares and disasters,
Shall ne'r be our Masters:
English and
Scot,
Doth both love a pot,
Though they say they do not,
Here the Roundheads and Cavies agree.
3.
A man that is armed
With
liquor is charmed,
And proof against strength and cunning;
He scorns the base
humour of running.
Our
[...]rains are the quicker,
When season'd with liquor,
[Page 166]Let's drink and sing▪
Here's a health to our
King,
And I wish in this thing
Both the Roundheads and Cavies agree.
4.
A pox of this
fighting!
I take no delighting,
In killing of men and
plunder;
A
Gun affrights me like a thunder.
If we can Live
quiet,
With good drink and diet,
We wont come nigh,
Where the
bullets do fly:
In fearing to die,
Both the Roundheads and Cavies agree.
5.
Twixt
Square-head and
Round-head
The Land is confounded,
They care not for fight or battle,
But to
plunder our goods and cattle.
When ere they come to us,
Their chiefest hate,
Is at our
Estate,
And in sharing of that,
Both the Roundheads and Cavies agree.
6.
In swearing and lying,
In
cowardly flying,
In
whering, in
cheating, in
stealing,
They agree; in all damnable dealing.
He's a fool and a widgeon,
That thinks they've
Religion,
For Law and right,
[Page 167]Are o're rul'd by might;
But when they should fight,
Then the Roundheads and Cavies agree▪
7.
Then while we have treasure,
Let's spare for no pleasure:
He's a
fool that has wealth and won't spend it,
But keeps it for
Troopers to end it.
When we've nothing to leave 'um:
Then we shall deceive 'um,
If all would be
Of such humours as we,
We should suddenly see
Both the Roundheads and Cavies agree.
XI. The Scots Curanto.
Written in 1645.
COme, come away to the
English wars;
A fig for our Hills and Valleys,
'Twas we did begin, and will lengthen their jarrs;
We'l gain by their loss and follyes;
Let the
Nations
By invasions▪
Break through our barrs;
They can get little good by their
salleys.
2.
Though
Irish and
English entred be,
The State is become our Debtor:
Let them have our Land, if their own may be free,
And the
Scot will at length be a getter.
[Page 168]If they crave it,
Let them have it,
What care we?
We would fain
change our Land for a
better.
3.
Long have we longed for the
English Land,
But we're hindred still by
disasters;
But now is their time, when they can't withstand,
But are their own Countreys wasters.
If we venter,
We may enter
By
command,
And at last we shall grow to be
Masters.
4.
When at the first we began to
rebel,
Though they did not before regard us;
How the name of a
Scot did the
English quell,
Which formerly have out-dar'd us.
For our coming
And returning,
They pay'd us well,
And
royally did reward us.
5.
The better to bring our ends about,
We must plead for a
Reformation;
And tickle the minds of the
giddy-brain'd rout,
With the hopes of an
innovation.
They will love us,
And approve us,
Without doubt,
If we bring in an
alteration.
6.
Down with the
Bishops and their train,
The
Surplice, and
Common-prayers,
[Page 169]Then will we not have a
King remain,
But we'l be the
Realms surveyers:
So by little,
And a little
We shall gain
All the
Kingdom without gain-sayers.
7.
And when at the last we have conquer'd the
King,
And beaten away the
Caveliers;
The Parliament next must the same ditty sing,
And thus we will set the Realm by the ears.
By their jarring,
And their warring
We will bring,
Their estates to be
ours, which they think to be
theirs.
8.
And thus when among us the Kingdom is shar'd,
And the people are all made
beggars like we;
A
Scot will be as good as an English
Leard;
O! what an
unity this will be
As we gain it,
We'l retain it
By the
sweard,
And the English shall say,
bonny blew cap for me.
XII.
Written in 1643.
THough
Oxford be yielded, &
Reading be taken,
I'll put in for quarter at thy
Maiden-head:
There while I'm insconsed, my
Standards unshaken,
Lie thou in my arms, and I in thy bed.
[Page 170]Let the young
z
[...]lots march with their wenches,
Mounting their tools to edifie trenches,
While thou and I do make it our pleasure,
To dig in thy
Mine for the purest Treasure,
Where no body else shall plunder but I.
And when we together in
battail do joyn,
We scorn to wear arms but what are our own;
Strike thou at my
body, and I'll thrust at thine,
By nakedness best the
truth is made known.
Cannons may roar, and
bullets keep flying,
While we are in
Battail, we never fear dying.
Isaac and's wenches are busie a digging,
But all our delight is in
japping and
jigging,
And no body else shall plunder but I.
And when at the last our bodies are weary,
We'l straight to the
Taverns our strength to recruit;
Where, when we've refresht our hearts with
Canary,
We shall be the fitter again to go to't.
We'll tipple and drink untill we do stagger,
For then is the time for
Souldiers to swagger.
Thus night and day we'l thump it and knock it,
And when we've no
money then look to your
pocket,
For no body else shall plunder but I.
XIII. A New Ballad.
1.
A Ballad, a Ballad, a new one and true,
And such are seldom seen;
[Page 171]He that wont write Ballads, and sing 'um too,
Has neither
Wit nor
Spleen:
For a man may be furnished with so much matter,
That he need not lie, or rail, or flatter;
'Twill run from his tongue as easie as water,
And as
swiftly, though not so
clean.
2.
To see how the
times are twirled about,
Would
make a dog laugh, 'tis true;
But to see those turn with 'um, that had the
Rumpgout,
Would
make a cat to spew.
Those
Knaves that have lived upon
sequestration,
And sucked the
bloud of the best of the Nation,
Are all for the
King by a new translation;
He that won't believe't is a
Jew.
3.
The poor
Caveliers thought all was their own,
And now was their time to sway;
But
friends they have few, and
money they've none,
And so they mistook their way.
When they seek for preferments the
Rebels do rout 'um.
And having no money, they must go without 'um,
The
Courtiers do carry such stomachs about 'um:
They speak no English but
PAY:
4.
And those very
rebels that hated the
King,
And no such
office allow;
By the help of their
boldness, and one other thing,
Are brought to the
King to bow:
And there both
pardons, and
honours they have,
with which they think, they're secure and brave,
But the title of
Knight, on the back of a
Knave,
[...]'s like a saddle upon a sow.
5.
Those men are but fools as matters now stand,
That would not be
Rebels and
Traytors,
To grow
rich and
rant o'r the best of the land,
And tread on the poor
Cinque Quaters;
To do what they
list, and none dare complain,
To rise from a
cart and drive
Charles his wain,
And for this be made
Lords and
Knights in grain;
O 'tis sweet to ambitious natures!
6.
If the times turn about 'tis but to
comply,
And make a
formal submission;
And with every new power
to live and die,
Then they are in a safe condition:
For none are
condemned but those that are
dead,
Nor must be
secur'd, but those that are
fled,
And none but the
poor rogues sequestred:
The great ones buy
remission.
7.
The
Fortieth part of their riches, will
Secure t'other
thirty nine;
And so they will keep above us still;
But hang't, we'l ne'r repine.
The
Devil does into their natures creep,
That they can no more from their
villany keep,
Then a
Wolfe broke loose, can from killing of
sheep,
Or a
Poet refrain from wine.
8.
Now
Heaven preserve our
Merciful King,
And continue his
grace and
pity,
And may his prosperity be like a spring;
And stream from him to the City!
Be the two supporters of
Englands Crown!
And may all honest men
enjoy what's their own!
And so I conclude my ditty.
XIV. The Holy Pedler.
1.
FRom a Forraign shore
I am not come to store,
Your
Shops with rare devices:
No
drugs do I bring from the
Indian King;
No
Peacocks, Apes, nor
Spices:
Such wares I do show,
As in
England do grow,
And are for the good of the Nation;
Let no body fear
To deal in my ware,
For
Sacriledge now's in fashion.
2.
I the
Pedler am,
That came from
Amsterdam,
With a pack of new
Religions;
I did every one fit,
According to's wit,
From the
Tub to
Mahomets pigeons.
Great trading I found,
For my spiritual ground,
Wherein every man was a medler;
[Page 174]I made people decline,
The learned
Divine,
And then they bought
Heaven of the
Pedler.
3.
First
Surplices I took,
Next the
Common-prayer-book,
And made all those Papists that us'd 'um;
Then the
Bishops and
Deans,
I strip'd of their means,
And gave it to those that abus'd 'um.
The
Clergy-men next,
I withdrew from their
Text,
And set up the gifted
brother:
Thus
Religion I made,
But a matter of trade,
And I car'd nor for one or t'other.
4.
Then
Tythes I fell upon,
And those I quickly won;
'Twas prophane in the
Clergy to take 'um;
But they serv'd for the
Lay,
Till I sold them away,
And so did
Religious make 'um;
But now come away
To the
Pedler I pray;
I scorn to rob or cozen;
If
Churches you lack,
Come away to my pack,
Here's thirteen to the dozen.
5.
Church
Militants they be,
For now we do see,
They have fought so long with each other;
The
Rump's Churches threw down,
[Page 175]Those that stood for the
Crown,
And sold them to one another.
Then come you factious crue,
Here's a bargain now for you,
With the spoils of the
Church you may revel:
Now pull down the
bells,
And then
hang up your selves,
And so
give his due to the Devil.
XV. A Serious Ballade.
written in 1645.
I Love my King and Countrey well,
Religion and the Laws,
Which I'm mad at the heart that e're we did sell,
To buy the good
Old Cause.
These
unnatural wars,
And brotherly jars,
Are no delight or joy to me;
But it is my desire,
That the wars should expire,
And the King and his Realms agree.
2.
I never yet did take up arms,
And yet I dare to dye;
But I'll not be seduc'd by
phanatical charms,
Till I know a
Reason why.
Why the
King and the
State,
Should fall to debate,
I ne'r could yet a reason see,
[Page 176]But I find many one,
Why the wars should be done,
And the King and his Realms agree.
3.
I love the
King and the
Parliament,
But I love them both together;
And when they by
division asunder are rent,
I know 'tis good for neither:
Which so e'r of those
Be victorious,
I'm sure for us no good 'twill be;
For our plagues will encrease,
Unless we have peace,
And the King and his Realms agree.
4.
The
King without them can't long stand,
Nor they without the King;
'Tis they must advise, and 'tis he must command,
For their power from his must spring.
'Tis a comfortless sway,
Where none will
obey;
If the King han't's right, which way shall we?
They may
Vote, and make
Laws,
But no good they will cause,
Till the King and his Realms agree.
5.
A pure
Religion I would have,
Not mixt with humane wit;
And I cannot endure that each ignorant knave,
Should dare to meddle with it.
The
tricks of the Law,
I would faign withdraw,
That it may be alike to each degree.
[Page 177]And I faign would have such,
As do meddle so much,
With the King and the Church agree.
6.
We have pray'd and pay'd that the wars might cease,
And we be free men made:
I would fight, if my fighting would bring any peace,
But war is become a trade.
Our
servants did ride
with swords by their side,
And made their
Masters foot-men be;
But we will be no more slaves,
To the
beggars and
knaves,
Now the King and the Realms do agree.
XVI. An Ode.
Written in 1643.
WHat's this that shrouds,
WIn these
Opacous clouds,
The glorious face of heav'n, and dims our light?
What must we ever lye
Mantled in dark stupidity?
Still groveling in a daily night?
And shall we have no more the sun allow'd?
Why, does the
Sun grow
dim? or do the
stars grow
proud?
2.
Why should false
zeal
Thus scorch our common-weal,
And make us slight bright
Phaebus purer fires?
[Page 178]Why do these
plannets run?
They would, but cannot be the
Sun:
Yet every saucy flame aspires.
Though they've no reason to affect the same,
Since they have nought of fire, but the meer rage and name▪
3.
Now since our
Sun
Has left this
Horizon;
Can all the
stars though by united pow'r,
Undark the night,
Or equal him in light?
And yet they
blaze to make him lowre.
That star that looks more red than others are,
Is a prodigious
Comet, and a
blazing-star.
4.
The World's undone,
When stars oppose the
Sun,
And make him change his constant course to rest;
His foaming Steeds,
Flying those daring deeds,
Ith' stables of the
North or
West,
Whence we may fear he'l never more return,
To
light &
warm us, with his rayes, but all to
burn,
5.
Heav'n made them all,
Yet not
Anarchical;
But in
degrees and
orders they are set;
Should they all be
In a grand Committe,
In heavens painted chamber; yet
Sol would out shine them: guide me
Phaebus ray,
And let those
Lanthorns keep their
borrowed light away.
6.
Let's not admire
This new
phantastick fire,
That our vain eyes
deceives and us
misleads:
Those
Bears we see
That would our Lyons be,
Want
tails, and will want
heads.
The world will soon into destruction run,
When bold blind
Phaetons guide the chariot of the
sun▪
XVII. Palinode.
1.
NO more, no more of this, I vow
'Tis time to leave this fooling now,
Which few but
fools call
Wit;
There was a time when I begun,
And now 'tis time I should have done,
And meddle no more with it.
He Physick's use doth quite mistake,
That Physick takes for Physick's sake.
2.
My heat of youth, and love and pride,
Did swell me with their strong
spring-tyde,
Inspir'd my brain and blood,
And made me then converse with toyes,
Which are call'd
Muses by the boyes,
And dabble in their flood.
I was perswaded in those dayes,
There was no crown like love and bayes.
3.
But now my youth and pride are gone,
And age and cares come creeping on,
And business checks my love;
What need I take a needless toyle,
To spend my labour, time and oyl,
Since no design can move.
For now the cause is ta'n away,
What reason ist th' effect should stay?
4.
'Tis but a folly now for me,
To spend my
time and
industry,
About such useless wit;
For when I think I have done well,
I see men
laugh, but cannot tell,
Where't be at me, or it.
Great madness 'tis to be a drudge,
When those that cannot write, dare judge.
5.
Besides the
danger that ensu'th,
To him that
speaks, or writes the
truth,
The
proemium is so small,
To be called
Poet, and wear
bayes,
And
Factor turn of Songs and Playes,
This it no
wit at all.
Wit only good to sport and sing,
's a needless and an endless thing.
6.
Give me the
Wit that can't speak
sense,
Nor read it, but in's own defence,
Ne'r learn'd but of his
Grannum,
He that can
buy, and
sell, and
cheat,
[Page 181]May quickly make a shift to get,
His thousand pound
per annum.
And purchase without much ado,
The
Poems and the
Poet too.
XVIII. A Ballad.
OLd
England is now a brave Barbary made,
And every one has an ambition to ride her:
K.
Charles was a horseman that long us'd the trade,
But he rode in a snaffle, and that could not guide her.
Then the hungry
Scot comes with spur and with switch,
And would teach her to run a
Geneva career;
His Grooms were all Puritan, Traytor, and witch;
But she soon threw them down, with their pedlery geer.
The long Parliament next came all to the block,
And they this untamable Palfry would ride;
But she would not bear all that numerous flock;
At which they were fain themselves to divide.
Jack Presbyter first gets the Steed by the head,
While the reverend Bishops had hold of the bridle:
Jack said through the nose, they their flocks did not feed,
But sate still on the beast, and grew aged and idle:
And then comes the Rout with broomsticks inspir'd,
And pull'd down their Graces, their sleeves, and their train,
And sets up sir
Jack, who the beast quickly tyr'd,
With a journey to
Scotland; & thence back again.
Jack rode in a dublet, with a yoke of prick-ears,
A cursed splay-mouth, and a Covenant-spur,
Rides switching and spurring with jealousies and fears,
Till the poor famish'd beast was not able to stir.
Next came th' Independant a dev'lish designer,
And got himself call'd by a holier name;
Makes
Jack to unhorse, for he was diviner,
And would make her travel as far's
Amsterdam:
But
Nol a rank rider gets first in the saddle,
And made her show tricks, and curvate and rebound;
She quickly perceiv'd that he rode widdle, waddle,
And like his Coach-horses threw his Highness to ground.
Then
Dick, being
[...]ame, rode holding by the pummel,
Not having the wit to get hold of the rein;
But the Jade did so snort at the sight of a
Cromwel,
That poor
Dick and his kindred turn'd foot-men again▪
Next
Fl
[...]etwood and
Vane, with their Rascally pack,
Would every one put their feet in the stirrup;
[Page 183]But they pull' the saddle quite off of her back,
And were all got under her before they were up.
At last the King mounts her, and then she stood still,
As his
Bucephalus, proud of this Rider;
She cheerfully yields to his power and skill,
Who is careful to feed her, and skilful to guide her.
EPISTLES.
I. To C. C. Esquire.
INspir'd with love and kindled by the flame,
Which from your
eye and
conversation came,
I proceed
Versifier, and can't chuse,
Since you are both my
Patron and my
Muse.
Whose fair example makes us
know and
do;
You make us
Poets, and you
feed us too.
And though where ere you are is
Helicon;
Since all the Muses proudly wait upon.
Your parts and person too; while we sit here,
And like
Baals Priests our flesh do cut and tear.
Yet, for our lives, can't make our baggage
Muse,
Lend us a
lift, or one rich thought-infuse;
Or be as much as midwife to a
quibble,
But leave us to our selves with
pangs to scribble
What, were we
wise, we might well blush to view,
While we're invoking them, they're courting you.
[Page 185]Yet I conceive (and won't my
notion smother)
You and your house contribute to each other.
[...]
hills, such
dales, such
plains, such
rocks, such
springs,
And such a
confluence of all such things
As
raise and
gratifie the
Muses so,
That in one Night I was created PO▪
That's half a Poet, I can't reach to ET,
Because I'm not a perfect
Poet yet;
And I despair
perfection to attain,
Unless I'm sent to school to you to gain.
Alas! Sir,
London is no place for verse;
Ingenious harmless thoughts, polite and tearse:
Our
Age admits not, we are wrap'd in
smoke;
And
sin, and
business, which the
Muses choke.
Those things in which
true poesie takes
pleasure,
We here do want;
tranquillity and leasure:
Yet we have
wits, and
some that for
wits go,
Some real ones, and
some that would
be so;
But 'tis
ill-natured wit, and such as still,
To th'
subject or the
object worketh ill.
A
Wit to
cheat, to
ruine, to
betray;
Which
renders useless, what we do or say:
This
wit will not
bear verse, some
things we have;
Who in their
out-side do seem
brisk and
brave:
And are as
gaudy as old
Kelles purse;
But full as
empty too. And here's our
curse;
Few
men discern the
difference 'twixt
Wit
That's
sterling, and that's not, but looks
like it.
Inrich us with your
presence, make us know
How much the Nation does to
Derby owe.
But if your business will not be withstood,
Do what you can, since you can't what you wou'd.
Those lovely sportings of your
frolick Muse,
Wherewith you biest me, send me to peruse;
[Page 186]And out of gratitude, I'll send you mine;
They'l
rub your vertues, and so make them
shine:
Your
charity and
patience will in them,
Find work t'acquit, what justice must condemn.
And if you please, send one propitious line,
To dignifie these worthless
toyes of mine:
The
Reader charm'd by yours, may be so bold,
To read o'r mine, which else he'ld not behold;
And then in
Spite of
envy, pride, or lying,
Must say h'ha
[...] met with something worth the buying.
II. The Answer.
WHen in this dirty corner of the World,
Where all the
rubbish of the rest is hurl'd
Both men, and manners; this abandon'd place,
Where scarce the
Sun dares shew his radiant face;
I met thy lines, they made me wondring stand,
At thy unknown, and yet the friendly hand:
Straight through the
Air m'imagination flew
To ev'ry
Region I had seen, or knew;
And kindly blest (at her returning home)
My greedy ear, with the glad name of
Brome;
Then I reproach't my self for my suspence;
And mourn'd my own want of
intelligence,
That could not know thy celebrated
Muse,
(Though mask't with all the art, that art can use)
At the first sight, which to the dullest eyes,
No names conceal'd, nor habit can disguise.
[Page 187]For who (
ingenious friend) but only thee,
(Who art the
soul of wit, and courtesie)
Writes in so pure, an unaffected strain,
As shews
wits ornament, is to be plain;
Or would
caress a man condemn'd
[...]o lie
Buried from all humane society.
'Mongst brutes and bandogs in a
Lernean fen,
Whose
Natives have nor souls, nor shape of men?
How could thy Muse, that in her noble flight,
The boading
Raven cuff't; and in his height
Of untam'd power, and unbounded place,
Durst mate the haughty
Tyrant to his face;
Deign an inglorious stoop, and from the skie,
Fall down to prey on such a
worm as I?
Her seeing (sure) my state, made her relent,
And try to charm me from my banishment;
Nor has her charitable purpose fail'd,
For when I first beheld her face unvail'd;
I kist the paper, as
an act of grace,
Sent to retrive me from this wretched place,
And doubted not to go abroad agen
To see the world, and to converse with men:
But when I taste the dainties of the Flood,
(Ravish't from
Neptunes table for my food)
The
Lucrine Lake's plump Oysters I despise,
With all the other Roman luxuries:
And, wanton grown, contemn the famous Breed
Of Sheep and Oxen, which these mountains feed.
Then as a
Snake, benumn'd and fit t'expire,
If laid before the comfortable fire,
Begins to stir, and feels her vitals beat
Their healthful
motion, at the quickning heat:
So my poor
muse, that was half starv'd before,
On these bleak
clifts; nor thought of
writing more.
[Page 188]Warm'd by thy bounty, now can hiss and spring;
And ('tis believ'd by some) will shortly sting:
So warm she's grown, and without things like these,
Minerva must, as well as
Venus freeze.
Thus from a
High-lander I straight commence
Poet, by vertue of thine influence;
That with one Ray, can clods, and stones inspire,
And make them pant, and breath poetick fire:
And thus I am thy
creature prov'd, who name
And fashion take from thy indulgent flame.
What should I send thee then, that may befit
A grateful heart, for such a benefit;
Or how proclaim, with a
poetick grace,
What thou hast made me from the thing I was;
When all I writ, is artless, forc't, and dull;
And mine as
empty as thy fancy full?
All our conceipts, alas! are flat, and stale,
And our inventions muddy, as our
Ale:
No friends, no visiters, no company,
But such, as I still pray, I may not see:
Such craggy, rough-hewn
rogues, as do not fit;
Sharpen and set, but blunt the edge of wit;
Any of which (and fear has a quick eye)
If through a
perspective I chance to spye,
Though a mile off, I take th' alarm and run,
As if I saw the
Devil, or a
Dun.
And in the Neighbouring rocks take
sanctuary,
Praying the Hills to fall, and cover me;
So that my solace lies amongst my grounds,
And my best company's my
Horse and
Hounds.
Judge then (my friend) how far I am unfit
To
traffick with thee, in the trade of Wit,
How
Bankrupt I am grown of all commerce,
Who have all number lost, and air of verse.
[Page 189]But if I could in living song set forth,
Thy Muses glory, and thine own true worth,
I then would sing an
Ode, that should not shame
The
writers purpose; nor the
Subjects name:
Yet, what a grateful heart, and such a one,
As (by thy virtues,) thou hast made thine own,
Can poorly pay, accept for what is due,
Which if
it be not Rhythm, I'll swear 'tis true.
C. Cotton.
III. To his University Friend.
Dear Captain,
WAnt, the great Master of three greater things,
Art, Strength, and
Boldness, gives this letter wings,
To kis (that is, salute) you and say
A. B.
To his renowned Captain
S. P. D.
And to request three greater things then those,
Things that beget good
verse, and Stubborn
prose.
The first is
drink, which you did promise, would
Inform the
brain; as well as warm the
bloud:
Drink that's as pow'rful and strong as
Hector,
And as inspiring as the old Poets
Nectar,
That dares confront the legislative
Sack,
And lends more Greek then your grave Patriarch;
But you may see here's none; for if that I,
Had been well
wet, these had not been so
dry.
The next is
money; which you said should be
Paid, and it may be 'twas, but not to me.
Why (Friend) d'you think a man as big about
As I, can live on promises, without
And who can live without
Sack, or with bad?
What e'r your
Academicks talk or teach,
Mind what they
do, they mind not what they
preach:
In publick they may rail at
Pope and
Turk,
And at the layeties
avarice have a Firk;
And say their aim is all to save the
soul;
But that Soul's
money, which does all controul:
Which I do only by the want on't know,
But when it comes thou'lt see 'twill
wonders do.
The third is
wit, which you affirmed here,
Was in your
Mines, and digg'd up every where;
Jests, Verses, Tales, Puns, Satyrs, Quibbles too,
And certain
Bristoll words that like wit show:
But none on't comes as yet, and all I see,
Is, you've the
wit to keep it all from me▪
'Tis troublesome and
costly to have much;
And if you had it, you would never grutch
Your needy Friend a little; prithee do
Send me the
last, and I'll get t'other
two.
IV. The Answer.
YOur Letter found us at good
Clarret,
Such as you should be at, or are at.
The lines were good; but that I wonder
As much as at a bladders thunder;
That you who are not us'd to
preach,
That never to that art could reach;
Your letter should so well divide,
Into the
first, third, second head.
[Page 191]Prithee tell me, just then came ye,
Before you writ, from your
C.
Or hadst thou heard some
Independent;
First it, and
thirdly it, till no end on't?
Thirdly from you is as ill sounded,
As
Mass delivered by a
roundhead:
Or if your old
Recorder should
Try to speak Latine that is good.
Drink the first head, you wisely laid;
Drink alwaies gets into the head:
Drink in plain filly troth you had,
As strong as
hop, or
furnace made,
Such as our
Sophisters do take,
When they
old Latine jests would break;
Such as if your
Clients drink,
Of law suits they would never think:
Such as with
Beef, and
Mutton were
Enough to make you
Knight o'th' shire:
But that it comes not you may thank
Your
Thames which
swell'd above its bank.
I think the
London Brewers plot
To encrease the
Thames, that we should not,
By our sublime and noble
Beer,
Shame all their puddle liquor there.
So great the floud here, that the people
Were wondrous fraid for your
Pauls-steeple;
Lest we should hear next
Almanack,
How
London Bridge did fall or shake:
Lest it
Westminster-hall should drown,
And then no place should there be found,
Where men their
gold and
silver may
Upon the
Lawyers throw away.
But stay, it may be all is lost,
Broke by the
ice, or stop'd by
frost.
[Page 192]Perchance the
Boat-men let it run,
Which either of us would have done:
It may be they drew out the Vessel,
To cheer themselves at merry
W
[...]ssail:
Perchance the
Barrel in the way
Did fall upon an
holiday,
Upon a
Revel or a
Wedding;
Or else, it may be, it call'd at
Reading,
Where the bold
rout did rant of late,
As if they drunk such
beer as that:
But if at last it there arrive,
Drink it out while 'tis alive;
Let not old
Gossips of it▪ tast,
When they do praise their husbands last;
When they tell stories, and do cry
For their poor babe that last did dye:
Nor it the Countrey
Clients give,
When thou dost fees from them receive;
But make a fire and send about,
For all thy Friends the merry rout:
Fetch out the bowl and drink it up,
And think on him that fill'd the cup.
Your next is
money, which I promise,
Full
fifty pounds alas the sum is,
That too shall quickly follow, if
It can be rais' from
Strong or
Tiffe.
Pray pray that each moneth we may choose
New
Members for the commons house.
Pray that our
Act may last all year,
That we may sooner spend our
Beer.
Pray that the Scholars may drink faster,
And larger cups then they did last year.
Pray heav'n to take away th'
Excise,
Pray I say with weeping eyes:
[Page 193]Pray our malt
grow good and cheap,
And then of money expect an heap.
For
Poems; Tom desires me tell ye,
He minds not now his feet, but belly:
He must for Pulpit now prepare,
Or make bills for
Apothecar—
Y'and leave off these barren toyes
Which feed not, only make a noyse:
Yet he would fain from you receive,
What your more happy
Muse did give,
Which made
Protectors love to hear,
Though themselves wounded by them were
Songs, which are play'd on every tongue,
And make a
Christmas when they're sung.
Thus wishing you much
mirth and
wit,
As the
Lord Mayor doth
speak and
spit.
Wishing and praying till I'm weary,
That you may drink the best
Canary:
And that you may have
Clients many,
And talk in
Guild-hall wise as any;
That the rich
Londoners may fall out,
And go to
Law till money's all out;
That every
Citizen hate his Neighbour,
As his wife doth
Pope and
Tyber:
That the grave
Alderman love no man,
More then they did the
Prayer-Common:
That
Quarrels long may thence be spun
About a
Whistle or a
Spoon:
That th'itch of law may infect all
London,
Till you are rich, and they are undone:
That you may keep your good
Dame yet here,
Or when she dies may find a better:
That two hours
prayer and long Sermon,
you may not hear above each term one:
[Page 194]And then your pew may be so easie,
That you may sleep when e'r it please ye:
That when from
Tavern late you come,
You miss the watch returning home;
Or if you meet th'unmanner'd
rabble,
You may not
out-wit the
Constable.
V. To T. S.
THy Letter
Friend, had the hard fate,
To find me with a busie pate,
Which still continues, and will do,
Till you meet me, or I meet you:
Than prithee come thy waies to me,
Or else I vow i'll come to thee.
So well I love thee that I
doat,
And make this
shameless▪ Letter show't:
And it is more then I can do,
To live in love and business too.
P. B. and
G. I had the luck
To see, and drink a little pluck.
Which they both said, they'ld do agen,
But broke their words like honest men,
And shew'd themselves as errant lyars,
As th' were 'prentice to the
Tryers.
But will they e'r preach truth d'you think,
Who are so false in point of
drink?
Since that some persons got some places,
Deceit and
lying have been graces.
I'm also told
P. P. was here,
But ne'r came at me though so neer.
[Page 195]Which I don't take amiss, for I
Suppose his love's not wont to lie
On the
Male Sex, but by his Vote,
Breeches should vail to
petticoat.
The drink that came from honest
Tim,
Had two ill properties, like him:
'Twas long a
coming, but alas!
In going
swift as lightning 'twas:
There's none of't left, you may conclude,
By this, which is both
flat and
rude:
Nor drink I Sack; and so this time,
Instead of
wit, you've only
rythme.
Wit is scarce and wanting here
With us, as money with you there.
Our
Prince of
Poets, who once writ,
What all admir'd, for
art and
wit,
Did lately stoop his Muse, and make her
To write a
Ballad of a
Quaker:
Which I have sent thee here withall,
To see how
wits do rise and fall:
Just as our drink is bad or good,
So
verse is
writ, so
understood;
But oh the
money (
Tom) the money!
As strong as
Sampson, sweet as honey;
How long! how long it is a coming!
Such
reckoning, such
receipts, such
summing,
Belong to't, I shall choak I think,
Before 'tis melted into drink!
Those things you'l have me pray for, I
Can't find in our
Church-Liturgie.
To you therefore I make my suit,
That you will set the
boyes to do't;
For I am told the
Directory,
And your new prayers made
ex-tempore,
[Page 196]Are all for money very fit,
Because they're only made for it.
I like thee that apply'st thy parts,
To
preaching and such
thriving arts,
I prethee practise physick too;
For if one wont, yet both will do.
A
handsome person with neat
band,
Small
cuffs, white
gloves, smooth
tongue and
hand;
If both a
Doctour and a
Priest,
What
Lady's able to resist?
You may talk
bawdy freely then,
Before
coy women and old men:
And be of no
Religion too,
Yet profess
all as others do.
While the poor
Poet tugs for
wit,
To make men laugh at him and it:
And nothing gets by
all his pain,
But censures various and vain.
From such as say they
Judges are,
And yet did never plead at
bar:
Undo their malice that condemn,
Let them write while we laugh at them.
A
Poem I have sent thee here,
That dies if thou shouldst be severe:
And cause I have none worth sending down,
I've bought one cost me half a crown:
And
Dick Brome's Playes, which good must be,
Because they were approv'd by thee:
All which I hope
will bring me back
What
all so Love, and I so lack.
When my glass
Beads to
India come,
They'l bring me Pearls and Diamonds home:
And thou wilt like the powers above,
Return a
blessing for a
Dove.
VI. The Answer.
MY Friend, in troth, I'm glad to hear,
That noise of
Clients fills thy ear;
Be sure let them not soon agree,
Before thou art well greas'd with
fec.
If thou wantest
coyn, the Cockneys
Guild-hall,
Or
Westminster will to thee yield all:
Prithee sleece each City
Cox-comb,
When they for law to th' Hall in flocks come:
Make them pawn their garments wedding;
Their
Cup-boards, Hangings, and their bedding;
That when another
Parliament
Shall borrow for the good intent
Of
zeal, upon the faith call'd
publick;
They may be poor and mangie
Job-like:
That when again the
Pulpit clawes
Them to send
plate into the
Cause,
Their spoons, and rings to th' Hall of
Grocers,
Their very
wives may cry out
no Sirs.
But why dost bid me come to thee?
I have no term there, nor no fee;
What should a
Scholar do at
London,
But to spend money, and be undone?
When here with us a whole daies expence,
Will not swell up beyond one
six pence:
When we can
play, and
laugh, and
drink,
And still the money slowly shrink;
When we here talk o'th' State as boldly,
As ever the
Mercurius told lye.
[Page 198]When we of
policy are still chattering,
(All which, 'tis true, we owe to
Mat. Wren)
When we know all the Pretty
sputher,
Betwixt the one
house and the
other:
When we can over one full flagon,
Relieve or plunder
Coppen-hagen:
When we do know what is, what not is,
Related in the
Hall, where
Scottish
Rags, once call'd
colours, still remain;
Tell me what
profit 'tis, or gain,
For me to take such useless pain,
To come and hear all there again.
But yet (remember now I promise,
And will perform as sure as
Rome is.)
Near
Easter term, like arrow swift, I
Will ride up to thee, miles full
fifty.
'Shalt see me come on
Oxford beast,
Which shall have one good leg at least;
Such a doughty horse, upon
Whose
nose more then its
legs shall run:
So thin a Creature that I've tride it,
When its
Master did bestride it:
I plainly through his belly spy'd
The
boot and
leg on th' other side:
Next this, I'll get coat, boots, and spurs,
And then Sir quickly
I am yours:
I'll come unless (which happen may)
Gall'd
Buttocks stop me on the way.
Whether his ends be good or sinister,
G. now from head to foot's a
Minister:
My judgement is he is turn'd
Divine,
Only to have therewith to buy
wine:
He came home with each empty
pocket,
That th' one could not the other mock at:
[Page 199]What ever others do I'll swear
Safely, he us'd no
Symonie there:
He swears since
He's a Countrey
Parson,
That he finds coming worldly cares on:
Sayes, he believes since he has been there,
You Lawyers do not only sin there;
But that in
Knavery White-Hall-gate,
Out-does all 'twixt
Lud and
Algate.
Our Friend
P. is by this at
Paris;
Or if not there, he very near is:
God send him home whole wind and limb,
And keep his nose sound to the brim.
Some rogues say,
Tim provides for one day,
To wit, the
Sabbath or the
Sunday:
That at that time he alwaies is sick,
Enough to stay at home and
Physick.
The Poet I confess doth stoop here,
From what is writ i'th'
hill of Cowper:
But for new bayes what need care
D.
Who so long since did bravely win 'um:
Should such proud Spirits alwaies do good,
What they perform'd would then be too good.
Thou next would'st have me turn
Divine,
And
Doctor too, indeed 'tis fine,
Physick and
preaching ill agree,
There is but one
Religio Medici.
Paul and every other '
postle,
(As the Scripture doth to us tell)
That had the gift of healing, did
Not cure the belly, heart or head,
By Herbs, or Potions, Purge or
Treacle▪
But by a plain down-right
miracle.
I never heard that learned
Moses,
Whom God himself for
Prophet chose his,
He kill'd as many men, as if he were.
How pretty I should shew I'faith,
(As in his Sums
Aquinas saith)
With
hour-glass in one fist, and
With
Urinal in the other hand:
To have my Pothecary say,
Such a
Ladie's sick to day;
And straight to have my
Sexton calling,
And ask me when he shall toll all in.
If I must needs be both, then name ye
what kind of
Doctor you would have me:
Chymick? alas the costly Furnace,
Will quickly my small purse unfurnish;
Or
Galenist? that won't agree
With my other trade
Divinity:
Nor with Preachers now the mode is,
To strive to make themselves
Methodists.
I wish you would a
Lawyer had me,
That indeed had quickly made me;
'Tis they bring all unto their purses,
The Countreys
money, and their
curses,
By poring on some mouldy
Record,
And bringing fools unto an accord.
With
Poets Men so hardly
deal,
They are scarce part o'th'
Common-weal.
Father
Apello, and Mother
Muses,
Gave all away to
Pious uses:
So that their
Children must fair ill,
That have nought left them but the
bare hill.
Lastly, my Friend, you are too hard,
To challenge a small
Oxford Bard,
To send you verse in hungry Lent,
A fasting time, and Penitent:
[Page 201]When I should be confessing sins
Of mine, and too of other mens;
You'd force me to commit one more,
(And sure 'twere not the least o'th' score)
To make bad
Rhithmes: which needs are dismal,
When Stomach's great, and Commons is small:
To tell y'a plain, but Christian truth,
Verse must be fat, that would be smooth.
An
Army (said the King of
Sweden,
(He that did know so well to lead one)
Is a great
beast, which if you draw,
You must begin first from the
maw.
So say I of the beast a
Poet,
(And all our
Rhithming Kindred know it)
Who ere intend a Poem to make,
He must beging first with his stomach;
Good sooth, at this dull time o'th year,
When we must drink plain
physick beer;
When all to temperance are bent here,
To expiate the sins o'th
Winter:
When we must leave our former merr'ment;
Because forsooth our
blouds now
ferment:
When we must no more
Taverns survey,
But be content with
juyce of
Scurvey:
When such
thin Commons do us serve,
As would a very
Spaniard starve:
When we've such fish, set on our board,
Which scarce your fish-whores would afford,
Without stop'd
nose to look upon;
Nor swear 'tis
sweet, though 'twere her own:
At this lean time I say, troth, scarce I
Can write as well as
P. from
Jersey:
Whose
Rhythmes were yet so paultry that
All men that heard them, wish'd his fate:
[Page 202]Pray'd rather then such stuff to hear,
They might with th'
Author loose each
ear.
Upon my conscience such a mood in,
As I am now, was learn'd
John Goodwin,
When he so high of
Worster fight,
In
Elimosynary verse did write:
Such Rhythmes the King might thank that day,
Which forced him to run away,
Out of their sound that would have more
Grated his ears then's loss before:
(In such a meagre season now
By all the
Poets hills I vow)
Should I be forc'd my muse to raise,
She'd sound as bad as
Sterries praise:
I think I should come short of
Wither,
Whose
quill had ink, but not one
feather:
Nor in this humour verse can I brew,
Better then
Psalms turn'd out of
Hebrew:
Unhappy
Psalms! that so long lasted,
To be at length so metaphrasted,
By good old provost
Francis R
[...]us,
A Member of the other House:
Who with much pains and many a pang,
At last made
Davids Lute cry
twang:
The sacred Harp so sadly by him strung,
Seems as if still it on the
Willows hung.
Then be content till after
Easter,
By that I'll cheer my Muse, and feast her
And then (God send it prove no lie,)
She that can't now creep, shall flie.
VII. An Epistle from a Friend to the Author upbraiding him with his writing Songs.
DEar friend, believ'e my love has spurr'd me on,
For once to question thy
discretion:
And by right reason deify'd by thee,
I blame thee for the wrongs to Poesie
Thou hast committed; in betraying it
To th' censure (not the judgment) of each
wit;
Wit, did I say? things whose dull spirits are
Apt only to applaud, what e'r they hear,
Be't good or bad, so
throated to their mind,
Johnson and
Taylor like acceptance find.
Why
pedler'st thus thy muse? Why dost set ope
A shop of wit, to set the
fidlers up?
Fie prodigal, canst statuated shine,
By the abuse of
Women, praise of
Wine?
Or such like
toyes, which every hour are
By every pen spu'd forth int' every ear.
Thy comely
Muse dress up in robes, and raise
Majestick splendour to thy wreath of bayes:
Don't
prostitute her thus, her Majesty,
(Like that of
Princes) when the vulgar see
Too frequently, respect and awe are fled,
Contempt and scorn remaineth in their stead:
But I have done, and fear I've done amiss,
Being doubtful, lest thou't give thy Fidlers this.
I. B.
VIII: The Answer.
DId I not know thee (friend) and that this
fit
Comes not to shew thy
malice but thy
wit,
I might this
action censure, and reprove
As well thy want of
judgement, as of
love;
And think my
Muse, were doubly now forlorn;
Below thy
envie, yet not above thy
scorn:
But yet I wonder why thy
reason thus,
Which thou call'st
right, and's
magnify'd by us,
And justly too, should
vote me indiscreet;
Because my
Poems do with all sorts meet,
How can I help it? Who can
circumscribe
His words or works, within the
small-wise tribe?
And you the hearers kind applause do blame,
When
charity bids us all do the same.
If good we must, and if the
wit be such,
That it does need, who would not lend a
crutch?
W
[...]re mortal
Writers, and are forc'd t' a truce,
For he that gives, may well expect abuse.
Johnson and
Taylor in their kind were both
Good Wits, who likes one, need not t'other loath.
Wit is like
beauty, nature made the
Jone
As well's the
Lady. We see every one
Meets with a
match: Neither can I expect,
Thou more my Muse then
Mistress should'st affect;
And yet I like them both, if thou don't too,
Can't you let them alone for those that do?
Now if thou'ldst know the very
reason why
I write so oft,
to please my self, say I.
[Page 205]I know no more why I write more then thee,
Then why my
Father got more sons then me,
Nor
pedling call't, for those in
Cheap as well,
As they at
Fairs expose their wares to sell:
But I give freely mine, and thought it be
To
Fidlers, yet 'tis to a
company;
And all those gifts are well bestowed, which
At once do make us
merry, and them
rich.
If making
Sonnets were so great a sin,
Repent; 'twas you at first did draw me in:
And if the making one
Song be not any,
I can't believe I sin in making
many.
But oh! the
Themes displease you, you
repine,
Because I throw down
Women, set up
Wine:
Why that
offends you, I can see no
reason,
Unless 'cause I, not you, commit the
treason.
Our judgments jump in both, we both do love
Good
Wine and
Women; if I disapprove
The slights of some, the matter's understood,
I'm ne'r the less belov'd by th' truly
good.
You'ld have no phancy blown upon, but must
Have all new
broach'd or
can'd to please your
gust;
When this
demand of yours is grown as old
As what you quarrel at, and as
often told;
And ther's old
Wits that will as much
condemn
Your
novelty, as you can
censure them.
Now for those robes in which you'l have me
dress
My homely Muse, and write with
loftiness;
Talk of
State-matters, and
affairs of
Kings;
Thou know'st we've beat our heads about those things,
Till I'd my teeth near beat out, after all
My toyl, the worms must
turn poetical.
He that courts others ears, may use
designs,
Be coy and costive; but my harmless
lines,
[Page 206]If they produce a laughter are well crown'd,
Yet though they've sought none,
have acceptance found,
With these I sport my self, and can invite
My self and
friends t'a short and sweet delight;
While all our tedious toyls, which we call Playes,
Like the great Ship, lie slugging in their Bayes▪
And can no service do without great cost
And time, and then our
time and
stomach's lost,
But I must write no more for fear that we
Be like those brethren in divinity.
Whilst thou dost go to make my
flash expire,
I raise thy
flame and make it
burn much higher:
Only because thou doubt'st I should bestow
Thy lines upon my
Fidlers, thou shalt know,
That had they been upon a busines fit,
And were I
subject equall to my
wit,
T'had gone, and thou shouldst
sing them too, and so
Be both the
Poet and the
Fidler too.
IX. To a Lady destring the Copy of a Song.
Madam,
YOu are a Poetess 'tis true,
Nor had we men been
Poets but for you;
'Tis from your sex we've learnt our art and wit;
'Tis for your sakes that we do practice it.
Your subtler sex first ventred on the tree,
Where knowledg grew, and pluck'd the fruit which we
Did only tast, and that at
second hand,
Yet by that
hand, and taste we're all
trep
[...]n'd;
[Page 207]And our
posterity the doom endures;
You op'd our eyes, as you know who did yours:
By your command this
Song thus rudely
pen'd,
To you I do commit, though not commend;
To shew what duty I'm arriv'd unto,
You cannot sooner bid, then I can do:
Nor can your active soul command and sway,
With more delight and
pride, then mine obey.
I will not say this
Poem's bad or good,
'Tis as 'tis lik'd, and as 'tis understood.
A
Poem's life, and death dependeth still
Not on the
Poets wit, but
Readers will:
Should it in sence seem rascal, low and dull,
Your eye can make it
sprightly, plump, and
full:
And if it should be
lame, I hope 'twill be,
('Cause somewhat like your self) more
pleasing t'ye:
If it should
trip, assist it with your hand,
You may lend feet, for you
can make things stand.
One touch of yours can cure its ev'l, and
then
'Tis made by your fair hand, not my
blunt pen,
Useful for
love, or slighting you'l it find;
For
love before, or for
disdain behind:
Be't as you please, to more it can't aspire;
'Tis all it can
deserve, or I desire.
X. To his Friend C. S. Esquire.
INspir'd with
plum-br
[...]th, and mine'd
pies,
This Letter comes in humble wise,
To know how
Su. and how you do?
Or whether you do
do, or no:
[Page 208]Whether you
Christmas keep, or not?
For here we such a
Mayor have got,
That though our
Taverns open stand,
Church doors are shut, by his command:
He does as good as say (we think)
Leave off this
preaching, and go
drink:
But this I doubt's no news to you,
The Countrey's
Atheist part, part
Jew;
And care no more for
Christ or's
Mass,
Then he for them: So let 'um pass:
And could the Priests be sure of pay,
They'ld down with that, and t'other day.
Yet spite of all our
May'r could say,
We would not fast, though could not pray.
Here's feasting still throughout the City,
And drinking much (the more's the pity).
And that's the cause why all this time,
I did not answer your last Rhithme:
Nor did I know; 'Tis not my fashion,
In verse to make a disputation:
What ever
Su. and you have writ,
Shews both your kindness and your wit:
But only I desire to know
If you're a
Member made or no;
For here we have a great adoe,
About our choice, whom, how, and who
Elects, or is
Elected; some
To be made Members, send, and come;
While others of the
wiser sort,
Sit still at home, and care not for't.
Richard, 'tis thought, has no intent
To have an endless
Parliament:
Nor must they share his goods and lands,
For what he has he'l keep in's hands:
[Page 209]Much is not left to be divided,
The
business has so well been guided;
Nay he himself (I tell no lye)
Wants money more then you or I:
No reason therefore can I see,
Why you should bustle much to be
A
Senatour, unless it were,
For
honour; yet that is but
air,
And not the
sweet'st, or
saf'st, but still
Depends on other
peoples will.
But trust me (
Charles) you have a vain
That does more
love and
honour gain;
And longer keep't then all the tricks,
Of those that study
Politicks.
Protections needless, for (they say)
You owe no debts, that you can pay;
To
Nature one, which during life,
You cannot pay, nor that t' your
Wife:
Yet I would have you come away,
That though the
House don't meet, we may:
When every one
gets up, and ride,
'Tis good to be o'th
rising side:
For as i'th
Church, so 'tis i'th
State;
Who's not
Elect, is
Reprobate.
XI. To
C. S. Esquire.
Justice,
I've waited long to find thee here;
Peep'd into th'
house, but could not see thee there▪
I went to
th' other House, but they're so new,
They no such
name or
person ever knew.
'Twas for this cause, my
pen has slept so long;
I hop'd to see thee in that
learned throng:
And did believe some
Borough would in pity,
Have sent thee up to dignifie our
City:
But
Corporations do not well discern
What's for their good, and they're too
old to learn.
Had our whole
Senate been such men as thou,
They'd not been
routed, but sate still till now▪
But they'd be
medling, and to
voting fall,
Against the
sword, and that
out-votes them all;
Had they observ'd thy Councel, they'd been safe;
Stick to the strongest side, and think, and laugh.
What matter i'st what those in Office say,
When those that are in power, do answer
nay?
A Cutlers shop affords us stronger law,
Then
Cook or
Littleton e'r read, or saw:
But be content, let them do what they will,
Be thou a
Justice I'm
Atturney still.
A poor
Atturney is a safer thing
Now, then to be
Protector or a
King.
Our noble Sheriff's a dying, and I fear
Will never feast us more in
Taunton-shire.
Pray tell your lovely
Sue, I love her still,
As Well's I dare, let her not take it ill,
I write not to her, I've time enough, 'tis true,
But have not wit enough to deal with
Sue.
XII. To C. S. Esquire.
DEar
Charles, I'm thus far come to see thy face,
Thy pretty face, but this unhappy place
[Page 211]Does not afford it, and I'm told by some,
That want of
Tythes, make thee thou can'st not come;
Why (
Charles) art thou turn'd
Priest? and at this time,
When
Priests themselves have made their
coat a crime?
And
tythes, which make men Priests, do so decay,
One other
Schism will preach them quite away:
Thou'lt ne'r become it well, for I do find,
Wit in a Pulpit is quite out of kind;
Thou canst not stand long, nor talk much, and lowd,
Nor
thrash, nor couzen the admiring crowd;
And (which is worse) though th'hast a face, and hand,
A diamond ring, white
glove, and clean
lawn band,
Able to tempt an
Abbess, yet, I find,
Thou canst not satisfie the
Ladies mind,
What ere the matter is: But thou art wise,
And do'st best know thine own infirmities.
Let me advise thee (
Charles) be as thou art,
A Poet, so thou need'st not care a —-
For all the
turns of
time: who ere did know
The
Muses sequestred? or who can shew,
That ever
wit paid
taxes, or was rated?
Homer and
Virgil ne'r were
decimated:
Ovid indeed was banished, but for that,
Which
women say, you ne'r were
ex'lent at.
But (
Charles) thou art
unjusticed, I'm told
By one, who though not
valiant, yet is
bold:
And that thou hast unfortunately met,
The blinded scourge o'th
Western-Bajazet:
Thrown from the bench like
Lucifer, and are
In a fair way to be brought to the bar.
[Page 212]I'th interim hang 'twixt both, as law doth name us,
A
billa-vera-man, or
Ignoramus.
But I can't learn wherefore it is, nor how,
Though I've inquir'd of both, perhaps nor thou;
Some say 'tis for thy valour, which our time,
In a wise
Magistrate, accounts a crime:
If it be true, thou hast ill luck in this,
To have two virtues; and both plac'd amiss,
To thwart each other; when thou should'st have been
A valiant
Captain, wisdome was thy sin,
And so
uncaptain'd thee; and now the time
Calls for thy
wisdome, valour is thy crime:
And so
unjustic'd thee; unlucky wretch!
Two virtues want'st, yet hast too much of each!▪
Who ere compos'd thy mind, plaid
Babel-tricks,
Brought
lime and
timber, when he should bring
bricks.
But we live in an
age so full of
lies,
I dare not trust my
ears, nor scarce my
eyes.
I hope this is a
lye too: but if true,
'Tis an affliction (
Charles) that's justly due
To thy desert; Our
State holds it unfit,
One man should be a
Justice, and a
wit.
Go ask thy
Lady, if it were ever known,
A Man should be a
Justice, and do none.
Come, be advis'd by me, set out a book
In
English too, where
Justices may look,
And learn their trade; let
Presidents, of all
Warrants and
Mittimuses, great and small;
All
Ale-heuse Licenses, and other things,
Which to the
Justices instruction brings,
Be there inserted; that the
age to come,
(The
children of such men as can get some)
May glorifie thy memory, and be
Thy praises
trumpets to posterity:
As from one
Looking-glass thrown on the ground;
In every piece, a perfect face is found,
So from thy
ruines, all may plainly see,
Legions of
Justices as wise as thee.
Now having taken all this pains to see
Thy worship, and can find nor it, nor
thee,
Pray come to
T—- bring thy beloved
Sue,
My
Mat. and I will meet with her and you;
And though my
Mat's no
Poet, you shall see,
She'l sit and
laugh with, or
at us, that be:
I'll make thy Lady merry, and laugh until,
She break that
belly, which thou canst not fill.
Mean time pray give her one
prolifick kiss;
Tell her it comes from me, and if that miss,
Give her
another; and if both won't do,
Do that with
three which can't be done by
two.
If thou com'st not, I shall have cause to curse
Tythes, like the laity, and it may be worse:
My
sufferings are more, then theirs can be,
They'l keep their
tythes, but tythes keep thee from me.
But if thou can'st not
come, be sure to
write;
Don't rob at once, my hearing and my sight.
If thou bring'st not thy body, send thy wit,
For we must laugh with thee, or else at it.
XIII. To C. S. Esquire.
1.
SInce we met last, my
Brother dear,
We've had such
alterations here,
Such
turnings in and out:
[Page 214]That I b
[...]ing fat and breathless grown,
My
side I meant to take was gone,
E'r I could
turn about.
2.
First I was for the
King, and then
He could not please the
Parliament men,
And so they went by th' ears:
I was with other fools sent out,
And staid three daies, but never fought
'Gainst
King or
Cavaliers.
3.
And (Brother) as I have been told,
You were for the
Parliament of old,
And made a mighty dust;
And though perhaps you did not kill,
You prov'd your self as
valiant still,
As ever they were just.
4.
You were ingaged in that war,
When
C. R, fought against
C. R.
By a
distinction new.
You alwaies took that side that's right,
But when
Charles with himself did fight,
Pray of which side were you?
5.
Should I that am a man of law,
Make use of such a subtle claw,
In
London or in
Ex'ter;
And be of both sides as you were,
People would count me then, I fear,
A Knavish
Ambodexter.
6.
But since all sides so tottering be▪
It puzzles wiser men then me,
Who would no
[...] have it utter'd;
What side to take they cannot tell,
And I believe they know not well
Which side their bread is butter'd.
7.
Here's
fore-side, and here's
back-side too;
And two
left sides, for ought I know,
I can find ne'r a right:
I've been for th' middle twenty years,
And will be still, for there appears
Most
Safety and
delight.
8.
But if the times think that too high,
By creeping lower, I'll comply,
And with their humour jump.
If love at th'belly may not enter
In an
Italian way, I'll venter,
To love the very
Rump.
9.
So here's t'you
(Charles) a
Rubber's too't;
Here's a
Cast more; if that won't do't,
Here's
half a dozen more, and
To every feather here's a
glass;
Nay rather then I'll let it pass,
Here's a years healths before hand.
10.
If
loving it, and
drinking to't,
And making others
drink to boot,
Don't shew my good
affection.
[Page 216]I'll sit down
disaffected still,
And let them all do what they will,
Until our next
Election.
11.
But I'm concern'd (me thinks) to find
Our
Grandees turn with every wind,
Yet keep like Corks above:
They lived and dyed but two years since
With
Oliver their pious Prince,
Whom they did
fear and
love.
12.
As soon as
Richard did but raign,
They
liv'd and
dy'd with him again,
And
swore to serve him ever:
But when Sir
Arthur came with's men,
They
liv'd and
dy'd with him agen,
As if
Dick had been never.
13.
And when
Prince Lambert turn'd them out,
They
liv'd and
dy'd another bout,
and vilifi'd the
Rump;
And now for them they
live and
dye,
But for the
Devil by and by,
If he be turn'd up
trump.
14.
Yet still they order us and ours,
And will be called
Higher Powers:
But I will tell you what;
Either these slaves forswear, and lye,
Or if they did so often dye,
They've more lives then a Cat.
15.
Let the times run, and let men turn,
This is too wise an age to burn,
[Page 217]We'l in our
Judgment hover,
Till 'tis agreed what we must be,
In the
interim take this from me,
I'm thy eternal Lover.
XIV. To his Friend W. C.
DEar Brother
Will. thy dearer
John and I,
Now happy in each others company,
Send thee this greeting, and do wish that we,
By thy addition, may be made up
three;
Two make no sport, they can but
sit and
sip;
Here's t'you, and
thank you's no good fellowship.
We're
Melancholy 'cause we drink alone,
For
John and I together spell but one:
Three is the perfect
number, that is able
To difference a
solitude from a
rabble.
Here, if we mix with
company, 'tis such
As can say
nothing, though they talk too
much:
Here we learn
Georgicks, here the
Bucolicks,
Which building's cheapest,
timber, stone, or
bricks.
Here's
Adams natural Sons, all made of
Earth,
Earth's their
Religion, their
discourse, their
mirth:
But on the
Sunday thou'ldst admire to see,
How dirt is mingled with Divinity.
Such disputations, writing, singing, praying,
So little doing good, and so much saying;
It tires us
weak lung'd Christians, and I think,
So much the more, 'cause there's so little
drink:
And that so bad, that we with them are faign
To go to Church and sleep, and home again,
[Page 218]Twice in a Sabbath, and to break the rest,
With tedious repetions, and molest
The
Servants memories with such pitteous stuff,
As wisemen think once said's more then enough.
Thus do we spend our time, and meet with nothing,
But what
creates our trouble, and our loathing.
Come then away, leave
Butchers, leave thy
Lord,
Our
Countrey here shall both, or more afford.
Jack here's a
Lord, a
Prince, (nay more) a
friend,
He and his
bottles make the Vulgar bend:
And if thou didst believe him, or know me,
I am more
Butcher then they two can be:
If all these things won't make thee come away,
I am resolv'd to thee-ward, if thou'lt stay.
Drink till I come, that I may find thee mellow,
'Tis ten to one, thou'lt
meet or
make thy fellow.
XV. To his Friend I. B. Upon his Tragedy.
In 1652.
THou may'st well wonder, and my self should be
Dumb, if I should be dumb in praising thee:
Since I've occasion now to exercise
Sublimest thoughts, yet not
hyperbolize.
But since we two are Brothers, and subscribe,
Both
Voluntiers to the
Poetick Tribe,
I dare not do't, lest any
Dulman sayes,
We, by consent, do one another praise:
Yet dare applaud thy work, and thee in it,
So good in language, plot, and strength of wit,
[Page 219]That none but thou can equall't. Not a line,
But's thine, 'cause good, and good because 'tis thine.
So that my duller sight, can hardly see
Whether thou mak'st it exc'lent, or it
thee.
Let those, whose
anvil-heads, beat all delight,
Into a toil, at every line they write.
Now, vail to thee, and fairly yield the bayes;
Since all their works compar'd with thine are playes.
So far I like thy worth, that I should be
Intic'd if possible to flatter thee.
XVI. To a Potting Priest upon a Quarrel.
In 1643.
I Cannot choose but wonder, Mr.——-
That we two wisemen, had so little wit,
As without quarrel,
jealousies, or
fears,
Worse then the times, we two should go by th' ears.
I marvel what inspir'd this valour in you,
Though you were weak, you'd something strong within you.
'Twas not your learning, neither can I think,
That 'twas your valour, but
John D—-strong
drink.
Love and good
liquor, have a strong command,
T' make
cowards fight, longer then they can
stand.
I need not ask your reason, for 'twas gone;
Nor had you sense enough to feel you'd none:
Was it to shew your Mistress you could fight;
Living i'th woods, you'ld be an
Errant Knight?
That Lady may have cause enough to rue,
That has no better
Champion then you.
[Page 220]You might have sav'd that labour, each man reads.
You're a
wilde man both in your
looks and
deeds:
By th' wonders of your drinking, men may see,
You are a
Hero without
Chivalry:
You thought a duel, would your Mrs. please,
But prov'd a
Thraso, not an
Hercules.
I might have thought my self a Worthy too,
Because I tam'd a
Monster, that is you:
Your Zeal (me thought) was greatly kindled,
That went to make a Pulpit of my head.
Blame me not, though I strook, for I was vext,
To be so basely handled, like your
Text;
With subtil
Sophistry, that when you mist
In words, you would confute me with your
fist:
But such weak
Sillogisms from you ran,
As I could never read in
Keckerman:
That
brain-aspiring drink, so much did dip us,
You mistook
Aristotle, for
Aristippus.
Your head that should be King, was now pull'd down,
While that
rebellious Beer usurp'd your crown:
And your
Mechannick heels gaz'd on the stars,
As if they went to turn
Astronsmers:
Your legs were altogether for commanding,
And taught your foolish head more
understanding:
Your body so revers'd, did represent.
(Being forked) our bi-corned
Government:
Your wits were banished, and your brains were drown'd,
While your
Calves-head lay center'd to the ground:
Thus being black without, within a beast,
I took you for a
Tinker, not a
Priest.
In your next Sermon, let your audience hear,
How you can preach
damnation to strong Beer.
[Page 221]I have return'd your knife at your demand;
But if I've put a
sword t'a
mad mans hand,
Let me advise you, when you fight again,
Fight with a
worse, or be a
better man.
XVII. To his Friend Mr. W. H. upon the death of his Hawk.
In 1643.
WHat will you suffer thus your Hawk to dye?
And shan't her name live in an Elegy?
It shall not be, nor shall the people think
We've so few
Poets, or so little
drink:
And if there be no sober brain to do it,
I'll wet my
Muse, and set my self unto it.
I have no
Gods, nor
Muse to call upon,
Sir
John's strong barrel is my
Helicon:
From whence uncurbed streams of tears shall flow,
And verse shall run, when I my self can't go.
Poor
bird, I pitty this thy strange disaster,
That thou should'st thus be
murther'd by thy master.
Was it with Salt? I'm sure he was not fresh,
Or wa'st thy trusting to an arm of flesh?
Or 'cause 'twas darksome, did his eye-sight fail,
Meeting a
Post, he took it for a
Rayle.
And yet I wonder how he mis'd his sight;
For though the night was
dark, his head was
light:
And though he bore thee with a mighty hand,
Thou needs must fall, when he himself can't
stand.
'Tis but our common lot, for we do all
Sometimes for want of
understanding fall:
[Page 222]But thou art serv'd aright, for when th' hadst flown,
What e're thou took'st, thou took'st to be thy own.
And 'tis but
Justice, that each plundring
knave,
That such a life doth lead, such death should have.
Rejoyce you
Partridge, and be glad ye
Rayles:
For the
Hawks tallons, are as short's your
tayles.
If all the
Kingdoms bloudy foes, as she,
Would break their necks, how joyful should we be.
Well, at her burial, thus much I will tell,
In spite of schism, her bells shall ring a
knell.
XVIII. To his School-Master Mr. W. H. upon his Poem call'd Conscientiae accusatricis Hypotyposis.
In 1644.
Sir,
WHen I read your work, and thought upon,
How lively you had made description,
Of an accusing
conscience, and did see,
How well each limn did with th'
Archtipe agree.
I wonder'd how you could lim't out so well,
Since you b'experience can't it's horrour tell.
Trust me, I'ld praise it, but that I suppose,
My praise would make it more inglorious;
In love to th'
work and
work-man, I thought meet,
To make your verses stand on
English feet.
But whe'r well done, or ill, I here submit
Unto your censure, both my self and it.
I'm man, I'm young, unlearn'd, and thereupon
I know, I cannot boast perfection.
[Page 223]In fetter'd tasks, wherein the fancy's tide,
Do what one can, the lustre won't abide:
No
Ideoms kiss so well, but that there is
Between some phrases some
Antithesis.
What e'r is good, in each unpolish'd line,
I count as yours, the faults alone are mine.
I wish each foot and line, as strong, and true;
As my desire to
love, and
honour you.
XIX. To his Friend T. S.
Tom,
SInce thou didst leave both
me and this
town,
The
sword is got up, and the
law's tumbled down.
Those eager disputes between
Harrington and
Wren,
At length have inspir'd the
Red-coated Men:
Whose
sides, not their
heads, do wear the
Lex terrae:
With which they will rule us until we be weary.
We know not whose highest (what e'r people brawle)
Whether
Wallingford-House or
Westminster-Hall:
You made a contest neither
pulpit nor
tub-like,
What's fittest, a
Monarchy or a
Republick:
But
Desborough sayes, that Scholar's a fool,
That advances his
pen against the
war-tool.
We have various discourses and various conjectures,
In
Taverns, in Streets, in Sermons, and Lectures:
Yet no man can tell what may hap in the close,
Which are
wiser, or
honester, these men or
those.
[Page 224]But for my part I think 'tis in vain to contest,
I sit still and say,
he that's strongest is best.
The
World keeps a
round, that original sin,
That thrust some people out, draws other folks in:
They have done they did not know what, and now
Some think that they do not know what they may do.
But State matters (
Tom) are too weighty and high,
For such mean private persons as thou art, and I.
We will not our Governours calling invade,
We'l mind our own
good, let them follow their
trade:
Lanch forth into th'
Pulpit, much learning will be,
A hindrance to thy
Divinity:
'Tis better to mind what will cloath ye, and feed ye,
Then those empty titles of M. A. and D. D.
I have one thing to beg, and I won't be deni'd,
You must once more mount
Pegasus, and you must
O'r the County of D. whose praise must b'expre
[...] ▪ ri
[...]
In a
Poem to grace our next
County feast;
Which will be next
term, 'twas what I design'd;
But want
wit and
time to do't to my mind:
Thou hast
Subject and
wit, if thou hast but a will,
Thou maist make a Poem, next that
Coupers-hill.
Remember thy promise, to send me my
book,
With a copy of thine, for which I do look;
And let not a Letter come hither to me,
But fraighted with Poems, and written by thee:
And I out of gratitude shall take a care,
To make a return of our
City ware.
I'll vex thee no more with this paltry rhythme,
For fear it should make thee mis-spend thy time:
And so I have this Apology for't,
Though it be'nt very sweet, it shall be pretty short.
XX. To the Meritoriously Honourable Lord Chief Justice of the Kings-Bench.
GReat Sir, and
Good! beloved, and obey'd!
To whose great
worth, honour's not
giv'n but paid.
To whose great
love, and
knowledge we all owe,
All that we have of
law, and that we know;
Who with strong reason, from the
factious clawes
Of wilful fools, redeem'd our sacred
lawes.
Full twenty years have I a Servant been,
To this
Profession, I live by and in:
Eight years a
Master, and in all this space,
Have nothing done that mis-became my place;
Nor have my
actions been Derogatory
Unto my
Clients profit, or the
glory
Of this renowned
Court; and therefore I
Now humbly beg to be at liberty.
Justice, and
reason both command, that he
Who
serv'd, so long, should at the last be free:
For this I serv'd, for this our Nation
fought,
And
pray'd, and paid so much; nor do I doubt,
T' obtain my
wish herein, could I but find,
Desert in me proportion'd to your mind.
The benefit o'th' Clergy I desire,
That I may be admitted of that Quire.
Who their own
Pleas, in their own names
enrowl,
And may perform my place without controul.
My Lord, you've power and will to do't, and though
I am not worthy, if you think me so,
[Page 226]Your
Lordships test can constitute me that,
Which my
abilities can near reach at.
My
comfort is, 'tis what you don't deny
To some, that
read and
write as bad as I:
And there's a kindness which belongs to such,
As having little worth, beg where there's much.
Caesar that valiant General was ador'd
More for his liberal hand, then for his Sword;
And your great Archetipe his Highness does
Derive more honour from the mouthes of those
Whom he hath gratifi'd, then by the death
Of those his conquering sword depriv'd of breath.
Freedome's a Princely thing to give, 'tis that
Which all our Laws do stand for, and aim at;
And 'twill be some addition to your fame,
When I with tongue, and pen enlarg'd, proclaim,
'Mong all your Noble acts, you made a room,
In your great heart, for—
A. B.
XXI. A New-years-gift presented to the same.
My Lord,
DId I not find it by experience true;
Beggers are many, but
Thanks-givers few.
I had not dar'd t'envade your eye, with this,
Mean
gratulation whose
ambition is,
But to be
pardon'd, and the
faults to smother,
With this which were
committed by the other:
Yet since 'tis
gratitude, it may please you,
If not as good, yet as 'tis
strange and
new.
Great
Atlas of our laws and us, whose will,
Is alwaies active, back'd by unmatch'd skill;
To rule the Nation, and instruct it too,
And make all persons live, as well as know:
Though being among the
undiscerning throng,
You suffer'd once, you acted all along:
Your
sufferings did but like the Martyrs flame;
Advance your Person, and exalt your name:
Disclos'd your vertues, from their
[...]ullen Ore,
Make your gold shine, which was pure gold before:
Your noble soul tells us from whence you came,
You've both the
British Nature and the name:
By your
example, you instruct us what
Our
Grandsires were, and what they aimed at.
Ere the phantastick
French, or selvish
Dutch,
Were grafted on our stocks, our souls were such,
As yours is now; Now we by you may see,
What once we were, what now we ought to be.
Great Men, great favours, to great men repay,
With great
rewards, but I can only say,
Your Lordship, your great kindnesses have thrown
On one, that can
return, or
merit none:
But you must pay, and thank your self for me,
With your own goodness; That vast Treasury,
That found your love so
generous and immense,
To cast on me, can find you
Recompence.
A
gift of worth my fortune can't bring forth,
Proportion'd to your
kindness, or your
worth.
Let me send what I can, it will not be
Enough for you, though't be too
much for me:
What more to do or say, I cannot tell;
Much I can't do, nor can say much, and well:
But what I can not do, I will desire,
And what I can't express, I shall admire.
May this new year be prosperous may each hour▪
Bring you new
blessings, in a plenteous shour!
May
Heaven still smile upon you, and still bless
All that you
do, and all that you
possess!
May you
live long and
flourish too, that I
When I
need succour, may know where to fly,
And find supplies! May all your actions be
As beneficial t'all, as this to me,
That when you dye (great pity 'tis you shou'd)
Th' whole land may
mourn, not as you're great, but good.
And though I have not ransackt Sea and Shore,
To make you
richer then you were before;
I hope this
geateful, though but
rude address,
May please you more, though it hath
cost me less.
XXII. To his Honoured Friend R. Henley Esquire.
Sir,
THough I woed you not in Verse, or Prose,
To make my name, and me more
glorious:
By being your
Clerk, the work is done, I find;
Not that I'm worthy on't, but you are
kind:
Therefore these
lines address themselves to you,
Not
givenfreely t'you, but
paid as due:
And that they may your kind acceptance win,
They've
Sack (their common badge) with them and in;
And I presume, without much scruple; you
May drink old Sack, although the year be new:
But though I am not rich enough to send
Gifts fit for you t'accept; nor do intend
[Page 229]T'enrich
Peru: nor think it fit to give
Our
betters that, by which our selves should live.
This will, I hope, your candid nature move,
'Cause I give freely what I dearly love;
And I believe 'tis true, what I've been told,
You love good
Sack, as well as your partner
Gold.
I know not whether you'l like this or no;
But if it be not good, my
will is so:
May it prove
excellent! and may all those,
That drink it freely, be
ingenuous:
That is, be found or made so! unto yours and you,
May this year prove as prosperous as new:
May we live quiet, and lay by our swords:
And have no more
lawless and
boistrous Lords!
May the
Law stand! may
Justice rule the roast;
One sober
Judge rules better then an
hoast:
And be assur'd this truth you'l ever find;
I'll be as
dutiful as you are
kind.
Nor shall you in your
Rolls find out a Man,
Would serve you more then I, though many can.
XXIII. To his Friend J. H. Esquire.
1.
IF thou canst fashion no excuse,
To stay at home, as 'tis thy use,
When I do send for Thee.
Let neither
sickness, way, nor
rain,
With fond delusions thee detain,
But come thy way to me.
2.
Hang such a
sickness, that has power,
To seize on thee at such an hour,
When thou should'st take thy pleasure:
Go give thy
Doctor half a Fee,
That it may never trouble thee,
Until thou art at leisure.
3.
We have a Cup of
Sider here,
That scorns that Common strumpet,
Beer,
And such dull drinks as they're.
Their potions made of Hops and Mault,
Can only make our fancies hault,
This makes them quick as ayre.
4.
Ceres with
Bacchus dares compare,
And swears her fruits the liquor are,
That Poets so implore:
A fip of Sack may work a verse,
But he that drinks a bowl of Hers,
Shall thunder out a score.
5.
To morrow morning come away,
Friday we'll vote a happy day,
In spite of
Erra Pater;
And bring with you a
spark or twain,
Such as will drink, and drink again,
To treat about the matter.
XXIV. To a Gentleman that fell sick of the small Pox, when he should be married.
Sir,
WHen you view these
checker'd lines and see,
How (bate the colour) like your face they be.
You'll think this sheet to be your
looking-glass;
And all these spots, the
Ecchoes of your face:
Wherein
Disease and
Love their field have pight,
To try which is more lovely
Red, or
White;
Like our late
Souldiers, who more rage did show,
Unto the place that fed them, then their
foe.
Sickness, (loves Rival) envy in the place,
Where
Cupid chose to pitch his tents, your face
Went to write foul, but
Cupid made it prove
Spite of his
spite, the
alphabet of
love:
So as they strove, love serv'd him in his trim;
For as that set on you, this set on him:
And
love that conquers all things, soon made known,
To him a burning greater then his own.
Accurst disease! dost thou come, crawling hither,
To separate whom
Heaven had joyned together?
Hadst thou no time to vent thy
rage, but this
When swelling
hopes did dawn towards their bliss?
I'th
inter-regnum twixt
desires and
joyes,
The cursed
Vigil of blest holy daies!
What pitty 'tis that face where love has been
So oft, so proud to play so sweetly in;
By thy dire hand should be o'r-turned thus,
[...]s to be made a
Campus Martius;
New-vamp, and do retrive their musty stir?
As if the
Red-rose and the
White would be,
Where e'r they met, still at
Antipathy;
A face that was as clear as day, as bright,
Should
bud with stars like an
enamell'd night:
Your sickness meant to turn
Astronomer;
Your face the
Heaven, and every spot a Star:
Or else would write an
Almanack, and raise,
by those red Letters, nought but
holy-daies.
Were it your
Butlers face, a Man would think,
They had but been new boylings of the
drink:
Or had his nose been such, one would have swore
'Twere red with
anger, 'cause he drank no more:
Or had your
keeper such, hee'ld sell it all
For harts-horn to make hafts of knives withall.
Or if your
Cooks were such, how it would fit,
To grate your ginger, or nutmegs with it?
But why on your face? what was his design?
Was it to break the
Hymeneal twine,
That was half twisted? Tush! he's much mistook;
Your love was past the
Criss-cross of a look:
And your affections are of riper age,
Then now to gaze on beauties
title-page;
Or barely dwell upon the face, those toyes
Are
Ocean'd in the hopes of future
joyes.
Then blush no more, but let your
Mrs. know,
They're but
Love-letters written on your brow,
Etch'd by th'
Engravers hand, there she may see,
That
beauty's subject to mortality:
How
frail a thing it is, how vain t'adore it,
What fools are they that
love or
marry for it;
And that this sickness which hath curb'd you, is
But the sad
prologue to your future bliss.
As
Fasting-eves before your
Festivals.
'Twill make you prize your joy the more when't comes,
Usher'd along by tedious
Martyrdomes.
How acceptable is a plenteous
boul,
When 'tis
carowsed by a thirsty soul!
So have I seen the winter strip the trees,
To fit them for their vernal
Liveries!
And cloath th' old
Earth in gray, nip every thing,
before it rowles it self into the
spring.
So has black
night begot a gray-ey'd day,
So
Sol does rout conspiring clouds with Ray;
As through this sickness, does your
joyes come on,
And gulf your hopes in firm
fruition:
When your
red-rose, clubs with your Ladies
white,
And as the ancient
flowers did unite;
Your happiness will swell, and you will prove
The
Gemini of
joy, as now of
love.
These things I guess not by your face, I find
Your front is not the
Index of your mind:
Yet by your
Phys'mony, thus much is meant,
You are not spotless, though you're innocent.
Sir if these verses go a halting pace,
They
stumble in the
valleys of your face.
XXV. To his Friend Mr. I. B. being at London in the Authors retirement.
THough we are now
analys'd; and can't find,
How to have mutual presence, but in mind;
[Page 234]I'm bold to send you this, that you may know,
Though you're
above, yet I do live
below.
Though I've no
bags that are with
child with gold,
And though my fireless
chymnies catch the cold,
For want of great
revenues, yet I find
I've what's as good as all, a
sated mind:
I neither
money want, nor have I store;
I have enough to live, and ask no more:
No tip-toed
turret, whose aspiring brow,
Looks down and scorns the humble roofs below:
My
cottage lies beneath the
thunders harms,
Laughs at the
whispers of the winds, or storms.
My
rooms are not in-lin'd with
Tapistry;
But
ragged walls where a few
books may lye.
I flight the
silks, whose ruffling-whispers pride,
And all the worlds
Tautologies beside:
My limbs inhabit but a
Countrey dress,
Not to
adorn, but cover
nakedness.
My family's not such, whose gentry springs,
Like old
Mecaenasses, from
Grandsire Kings.
I've many
kinred, yet my
friends are few;
Those few not
rich, and yet more rich then
true:
I've but a drachm of
learning, and less
wit;
Yet that's enough to fright my
wealth from it:
As if those two seldome or never meet,
But like two
Generals that with
bullets greet.
I study to live
plenteously, though scant;
How not to have, yet not to care, nor want:
We've here no gawdy
feminines to show,
As you have in that great
Seraglio:
He that
weds here, lies cloyster'd in a maid;
A Sepulchre where never man was laid.
Ours are with
Load-stone touch'd and never will,
But right against their proper
pole lye still.
[Page 235]Yours like
Hell-gates, do alwaies open lye,
Like
Hackney-jades they stand at livery:
Like
treasuries where each one throws his mite;
G
[...]lph
[...] of contraries, at once
dark and
light.
Where who so enters, is like gold
refin'd;
Passing through
fire, where
Moloch sits enshrin'd,
And offers up a
whole-burnt sacrifice,
To pacifie those fiery Deities.
I have no far-fetch'd dear-bought
delicates,
Whose
virtues prized only by their
rates:
No fancy'd
Kick-shaws that would serve t' invite,
To a fourth course the glutted
appetite.
Hunger's my
Cook, my labour brings me
meat,
Which best digests, when it is
sawc'd with sweat:
They that have
pluresies of these about them,
Yet do but
live, and so do I without them.
I can sit in my
study soon or late,
And have no
Troopers quarrel with my gate;
Nor
break the peace with it, whose innocence
Stands only
guarded in its own defence:
No
debts to sue for, and no
coyn to lend;
No cause to fear my
foe, nor slight my
friend:
Yet there is
one thing which me thinks I han't,
And I have studied to supply that
want;
'Tis the
Synopsis of all misery;
'Tis the
tenth want (Dear Friend) the want of Thee.
May we once more
enjoy our selves, for neither
Is
truly blest, till we are blest
together!
XXVI. An Elogy on a Lady that dyed before her intended Nuptials.
AMong the train of
mourners, whose swoln eyes
Wallow in tears of these sad
obsequies;
Admit me as a
cypher here to come,
Who though am
nothing, yet can raise a
sum:
And truly I can mourn as well as they
Who're clad in
sable weeds, though mine is
gray.
Excuse me Sir,
passion will swell that's pent;
Thank not my
tears, I cannot but
lament,
To see a
Lady ready for your bed,
To
death's imbraces yield her
mayden-head:
And that
Angellick Corps, that should have been
A
Cabinet to lodge your
Jewels in,
Should now b'imbalm'd with
dust, and made a prey
To the happy
worms, who may call that day
On which her limbs unto their lot did fall;
Your sad
Solemnities, their
Festival:
Should I not
mourn, I could not pay the due,
Of
tears to her, or
sympathy to you:
For
Death did flay you both, when she did dye,
So who writes one's must write both's
Elegy.
She was too good for you, she was too high,
A wife for
Angels, to get
Angels by:
Whom you and all did
love, and did suppose,
To be an
Angel in a mortal's cloaths:
But
Heaven to undeceive you let you know,
By her
mortality, she was not so.
XXVII. On the great cryer at Westminster-Hall.
WHen the great
Cryer in that greater room,
Calls
Faunt-le-roy, and Alex-and-er Brome.
The people
wonder (as those heretofore,
When the
dumb spake) to hear a
Cryer roar.
The
killing crue of Cryers that do stand,
with
Eunuches voyces,
squeaking on each hand,
Do signifie no more, compar'd to him,
Then
Member Allen did to patriot
Pim.
Those make us laugh, while we do him adore;
Theirs are but
Pistol, his mouth's
Canon-bore.
Now those fame-thirsty spirits that endevour
To have their names
enlarg'd, and last for ever,
Must be
Atturneys of this
Court, and so
His voyce shall like
fames lowdest trumpet blow
Their names about the World, and make them last,
While we can lend an
ear, or he a
blast▪
XXXVIII. To the memory of that loyal Patriot Sir I. Cordel Kt.
THus fell the
grace and
glory of our time,
Who durst be
good when
goodness was a crime.
[...]
Magistrate that justly wore his gown,
While
England had a
King, or
King a
Crown;
But stoutly flung it off, when once he saw
Might knock down
right, and
lust did justle
law.
[Page 238]His soul scorn'd a
Democracy, and wou'd,
No longer stay, then while the
Kingdome stood;
And when that
fled, his follow'd it, to be,
Joyn'd to his
King i'th
Hieromonarchy,
XXX. To his Mistress lodging in a room where the Skie was painted.
In 1642.
WHen (my
Diviner soul) I did of late,
In thy fair chamber, for thy presence wait,
Looking aloft, (Thou know'st my look is high,
Else I'd ne'r dare to court Thee) I did spy.
Sun, Moon, and Stars, by th' painters art appear
At once all
Culm'nant in one
Hemisphere:
My small
Astrology made me suppose,
Those
Symptomes made the room prodigious.
Old
time, (I thought) was crampt and
night and
day,
Both
monosyllabled, to make me stay;
He'd broke his steps of daies and hours that he
Might
rowle himself into
Eternity.
The Sun, as tyred, with the course he ran,
Center'd himself in the
Meridian:
And' cause 'twas there, I could not think it night,
Nor durst I call it
day, 'cause 't gave no light:
I found the cause, and ceased to admire;
Thy
eyes had stoln his sight, my
heart his fire:
And that's the cause why
Sun and
Moon look'd dim,
Thy brighter face out luster'd her and him:
But (which increas'd my wonder) I could see,
No
Meteor portend this prodigy;
[Page 239]
Comets all wink'd at this, nor could I spy
One
Blazing-star, but my portentive eye:
But as I mus'd, what
Omen this should be,
They all stood still, as much amaz'd at me:
The wandring
Planets had forgot to vary;
Gazing on me, because all
stationary:
Envying thy beauty, they're together gon,
To make a perfect
constellation:
And their
conjunctions t' imitate our lips,
Was but a loving kiss, not an
Eclipse:
Sol draws a Regiment of stars, to be
Tapers to light thee into bed to me:
Yet could not shine, until they were inspir'd
By the same
flames, by which my heart was fir'd.
Come then lye down, do thou withdraw thy light,
They'l be, to please us, a perpetual
night:
Sol shall be
Cupid, blind, and thou his mother,
And as we've marr'd one Sun, we'l get another.
XXXI. A New-years-gift.
THe
season now requires a Man should send
Some worthy
present to his worthier Friend:
And I (though poor in
purse) do wear a heart,
That is
ambitious to perform a part
In
celebration of this new-born day;
And having nothing to present, I'll
pray,
This year may be to me, as well as you,
So much more
blest then t'other, as more
new.
And in it so much happiness abound,
To turn us all to good, yet not turn
round.
[Page 240]And may the Sun, that now begins t'appear
I'th
Horizon to usher in the year,
Melt all those fatuous
Vapours, whose false light
Purblinds the
World, and leads them from the
right;
And may our
Sol like that rise once again,
Mounted triumphant in a prosperous raign:
May all those
Ph
[...]tons that spite o'th crown,
Would guide his
Chariot, tumble head-long down:
So shall the Land with happiness be crown'd,
When men turn
right, and only years turn
round.
XXXII. On the Queens going beyond Se [...].
WHen on the watry World, our glorious Queen
Gan to be
toss'd▪ as on the
land sh' had been,
The joyful waters did begin t'aspire,
And would
trans-element▪ themselves to fire▪
And ever since it has been hard to swear,
Whether the
Earth, or
Water highest were.
The late scorn'd
Sea will now it self prefer,
Bearing the best that earth could boast of;
Her,
When first she lanch'd, th' ambitious
[...]aves no more
Would kiss the lips of their oft-washed shore,
But with united motion all did rise
To bear the ship; that her, to kiss the skies.
The ship, like
Noah's ark, did float about,
And kept the
waters that would enter, out:
For were the world
redrown'd, what good has been
In it, in her
Epitomiz'd is seen.
The sturdy
billows, if they did arise,
Were check'd by th' power of her
Majestick eyes:
[Page 241]When ever any to
rebel appears,
For grief it did dissolve it self to tears;
The moving compass had forgot to stir,
Instead o'th
North-pole pointed still at her;
At which the
Pilot wondering, he spies
Two
North-poles culminant at once, her
eyes:
No marvel then, the compass pointed thither,
For her
magnetick soul draws all things with her.
The
Ocean scorn'd
Neptune's tridentine sway,
And would no more a
King but
Queen obey:
Nay
Neptune thought she had a
Venus been,
Sprung from the frothy Sea to be his
Queen;
And whispering
Zephyrus, if he did stir,
'Twas not to blow, but to suck breath from her;
The
Mariners, when e'r she breathed, thought
That precious
Amber 'bout the ship did float.
Widdow
Arabia did begin to grieve,
To see a
Phaenix on the waters live.
The
Semi-lunar Dolphin having seen
Her face, would straight salute her as the Queen.
The amorous
Syrens did altogether throng,
Hoping t' entice her to them by a
song.
Her brow (as though
command were written there)
Did more
sway them, then all their voyces her.
The little
fishes met and did rejoyce,
Dancing to th' musick of the
Syrens voyce:
All in their several postures strove t' express
How much her presence would their
mansions bless:
All praying her to stay, but all in vain,
At length (though loth) they
landed her again.
The shoar's a
Paradise, where she was driven.
And (but her
Charles lack'd her) it had been Heaven.
XXXIII. Upon his Mare stoln by a Trooper.
In 1644.
WHy let her go, I'll vex my self no more,
Lest my heart break, as did my stable door.
'Twas but a Mare; if she be gone, she's gone;
'Tis not a Mare that I do stand upon.
Now by this Cross I am so temperate grown,
I'll bridle nature, since my mare is gone.
I have a little learning, and less wit;
That wealth is sure, no thief can pilfer it.
Riches they say have wings, my Mare had so;
For though she had legs, yet she could hardly go:
But thieves and fate have such a strong command,
To make those go, which have no feet to stand.
She was well skill'd in writing Elegies,
And every mile writes,
Here my Rider lies.
Now since I've ne'r a beast to ride upon,
Wou'd I might never go, my verse shall run.
I'll mount on
Pegasus, for he's so poor,
From thief or true-man, one may ride secure.
I would not rack invention for a curse,
To plague the
Thief, for fear I make him worse:
I would not have him hang'd, for that would be
Sufficient for the
law, but not for me.
In charity I wish him no more pain,
But to restore me home my
Mare again.
And 'cause I would not have good customes alter,
I wish who has the
Mare, may have the
Halter.
XXXIV. Upon riding on a tyred Horse.
'TWas hot, and our
Olympick Charioter,
Limbeck'd the body of the Traveller;
Which to prevent, I like the
Sun did go:
He was on horse back, I on horse-back too:
So on we go to view the desolation
Of that
half-plague to our distressed Nation:
But my Horse was so
superstitious grown,
He would fall down, and worship every stone:
Nay he in
reverence to each holy place,
Was often seen to fall upon his face.
And had I been inclin'd to
Popishness,
I needed have no other
cross but this:
Within a mile or two, without command,
Do what I could, this
Jade would make a stand:
I
prais'd him, thinking glory were a
spur
To prick him on, all would not make him stir.
All worldly things do post away we know,
But yet my
Horse would neither run nor go.
What everlasting
Creature should this be,
That all things are less
permanent then he!
So long I
kick'd the people did suppose▪
The
arm-less man had beat a drum with's toes:
But though a
march or an
alar'm I beat,
The sensless Horse took all for a
retreat:
The peoples jeers mov'd me to no remorse,
No more then all my
kicks did move my Horse:
Had
Phaetons horses been as mine is, They
Needed no reyns, they'ld never run away.
[Page 244]I wish'd for old
Copernicus to prove,
That while we both stood still, the Earth would move▪
Oh for an Earthquake, that the hills might meet,
To bring us home, though we mov'd not our feet!
All would not do, I was constrain'd to be,
The bringer up of a
Foot Company.
But now in what a woful case were I,
If like our Troopers I were put to flie.
I wish all
cowards (if that be too much)
Half of our Hosemen, which I'll swear are such;
In the next
fight when they begin to flee,
They may be plagu'd with a
tyr'd Horse like me.
XXXV. To his Friend I. B.
THou thinkst that I to thee am fully known;
Yet thou'lt not think how
powerful I am grown:
I can work
miracles, and when I do
Think on thy
worth, think thee a wonder too:
Thy constant
love and
lines in verse and prose,
Makes me think thee and them
miraculous.
My self am from my self, both here and there I
Suppose my self grown an
Ubiquitary.
We are a
miracle, and 'tis with us
As with
John Baptist and his
Lazarus:
I thou, and thou art I, and 'tis a wonder,
That we both live, and yet both live asunder:
Come then, let's meet agen; for until we
Unite, the times can't be at
[...]ity.
[Page 245]But if this distance must still interpose
Between my
eye and thee, yet let us close
In
mind, and though our necks
by-forked grown,
Spread-Eagle like, yet let our
Breasts be one.
XXXVI. Translated out of Perseus.
I Don't remember I did dip,
In the
Caballine spring my lip:
Nor on two-top'd
Pernassus sleep,
That thence I should a Poet creep.
The pale
Pyrene and
Helicon,
I for those men will let alone,
T'whose brows the rambling
Ivyes cling;
Yet I a
clown my verses bring
To th'
Muses altars. Who did shew
The Parrat
[...], who the
Crow
Of old with hollow voyce to prate?
Or
Pies our words to imitate?
Arts Master,
Need, which
wit bestows;
This Artist makes us come to those
Words which our
Nature us denies,
Make
Crowes turn
Poets, and the
Pies
Turn
Poetresses that can sing,
Sweet verses from the
Pegasean spring.
XXXVII. Upon the miscarrier of Letters betwixt his Friend and Him; An Execration.
ANd why to me? dull scanner of the ground,
Was there no other
pack-horse to be found,
To bear the weight of such a grand abuse
But only I? I'll wake my sleeping
Muse;
And send her post to th'black abyss of Hell,
To fetch me
curses, curses dyre and fell.
I'll mount on
Pegasus, and make him go
From Friend to Friend, as
swift as thou art
slow.
Perfidious
Traytor! could thine impious hands
Dare to miscarry, what true
love commands?
Had it been
news, or pamphlets, or the rude
Inventions of the cock-brain'd multitude;
New models of
Religion, or the false,
Ly-legends which we here call
Diurnals;
Had there been
treason against the King or State,
They deserv'd thine, and thou hadst scap'd my hate▪
But these were
embassies of souls that be
So pure, they dare dispute with purity;
That will not club with treason, nor betroth,
Their souls to
schism, but are estrang'd from both▪
Had they been
complements, or th'adulterate froth
Of
ink-horn-wits, t' had ne'r incens'd my wroth.
For 'tis but reason such vain
toyes as they are,
Should be dissolv'd to their first matter,
Air.
Had they been meerly issues of the
brain,
And had been lost, that might to work again.
[Page 247]But when the
heart's engag'd, what pity 'tis
A child of that should ever fare amiss?
Hadst thou but known how sweet those
accents were,
How full of love thou would'st have took more care.
Why didst thou go to stop that blessed
Trine,
That was to be 'twixt their
aspects and mine?
Do'st thou not know what good, what blest effects
The Land will have from such
benign aspects?
Alas when
Mercury doth meet with
Jove;
Lilly can tell thee their portents are love:
I'm loth to study for some new found
curse,
For fear I should be heard, and thou be worse.
First for thy
Horses, would their teeth may be
Greas'd at each Inne, which none may help but me▪
May all their old diseases never fail;
Their feet have
scabs doubled for every nail,
That thou may'st like
Tom. Long for ever go,
And ne'r come where thou art assign'd unto,
And so may'st ne'r be trusted with a
pack,
Unless of plagues, and may those break thy back.
May'st thou ne'r carry loyal letters more?
But
Pockie-songs betwixt a
Pimp and's
whore.
But when th' sweat and travel'd all the day,
May'st thou have neither
meat, drink, bread nor pay▪
May all the way be strew'd with
Downes his men;
And thou escaping one, may'st meet with ten.
And may they take thy horses and thy store,
And bang thy sides because thou hast no more.
May all these
plagues unite that they may be
As great a
plague to thee, as thou to me.
XXXVIII. To his Mistress.
YOur pardon
Lady; by my troth I erre,
I thought each face a painted
Sepulchre,
That wore but beauty on't; I did suppose,
That outward beauty had been ominous.
And that
[...] had been so opposite to wit,
As it ne'r
wisdome met, nor vertue it.
Your
face confutes me, and I do begin
To know my
errour, and repent my sin:
For on those
Rosie cheeks I plainly see,
And read my former thoughts deformity.
I could believe
Hyperboles, and think
That praise to low that flowes from pen and ink:
That you're all
Angel; when I look on you,
I'm forc'd to think the
Rampant'st fictions true:
Nay I dare swear (though once I did abhor it)
That
Men love
Women, and have reason for it.
The
Lapidaries now shall learn to set
Their
Diamonds in Gold, and not in Jet.
The Proverb's cross'd, for now a man may find
Abeauteous face i'th' Index of a mind.
How I could praise you, and your worth display,
But that my ravish'd pen is forc'd to stay:
And when I think t' express your purer fashion,
My expressions turn to stupid
Admiration.
Natures perfection! She by forming thee?
Proves she has now
infallibility:
You're an
Enchiridion, whom Heav'n did print,
To copy by, with no
Errata in't.
[Page 249]You're my
Urania, nay within you be
The Muses met in their
Ter-trinity:
Else how could I turn
Poet, and retain
My banish'd Muse into my thoughts again!
See what your
wit, see what your
beauty can;
T'make a
Poet's more then t'make a Man;
I've wit b'infusion, nay I've beauty too,
I think I'm comely, if you think me so.
Add to your vertues
love, and you may be
A wife for
Jovs, pray let that
Jove be me.
XXXIX. To his Mistress married to another.
MArried! and I not dead! it cannot be;
Is nothing certain but
uncertainty?
Can
truth it self prove false? I should as soon
Have thought the
Sun vary'd into a Moon;
And that the
Poles that ne'r knew how to vary,
Turn'd
Planets now, and grow
unstationary.
But
Sol has chang'd his course, and we all know,
Those we call Poles, are Planetary too.
You whom I thought a
Goddess, now I see,
Are but a woman, by inconstancy.
See what the covetous love of wealth can do,
It makes fair
Ladies false and foolish too.
I could be sorry now, or vext, or worse;
But
wrath or sorrow will enlarge my curse:
That
anger's foolish, and that
sorrow's vain,
That's us'd for that which can't be had again.
But what's this thing call'd
marriage? must you be
Cloyster'd by that from all society?
[Page 250]Must only he enjoy you as a
Bride?
And by his feast, famish the whole World beside?
You only did proclaim, when you did wed,
That both together meant to go to bed:
What need all this ado? can't we (my honey)
Do the same thing without the
Ceremony,
Or
proclamation? where two hearts agree,
Marriage is but a
superfluity.
Nature did ne'r intend (without all doubt)
T'hang such a Jewel only in his
snowt:
Nor were you made only for one Mans food;
Nor for the
private, but the
common good.
You have my heart, and do but lend me thine,
I'll give the
Priest the lye, and say th' art mine.
XL. On the turn-coat Clergy.
THat
Clergy-men are changeable, and teach
That now 'gainst which they will to morrow preach
Is an undoubted truth; but that in this
Their
variation they do ought amiss,
I stedfastly deny; The World we see,
Preserves it self by
mutability:
And by an imitation each thing in it
Preserves it self by
changing every minute;
The Heavenly
Ortes do move, and change, & there's
The much admired
musick of the spheres:
The
Sun, the
Moon, the
Stars do alwaies vary,
The times turn round still, nothing
stationary.
Why then should we blame
Clergy-men, that do,
Because they're Heav'nly, like the
Heavens go?
[Page 251]Nay th'
Earth it self, on which we tread (they say)
Turns round and's moving still; then why not they?
Our
bodies still are changing from our birth,
Till they return to their first matter,
Earth.
We draw in air, and food, that air and food
Incorporates, and turns our
flesh and
bloud:
Then we breath out our selves in sweat, and vent
Our flesh and bloud by use, and
excrement,
With such continual change, that none can say,
He's the same man that he was
Yesterday.
Besides, all
Creatures cannot choose but be,
By much the worse for their
stability:
For standing pools corrupt, while running springs
Yield sweet refreshment to all other things.
The highest
Church-things oftenest change, we know,
The
weather-cock that stands o'th top does so:
The bells when rung in changes best do please,
The
Nightingall, that minstrel of the trees,
Varies her note, while the dull
Cucko sings
Only one note, no
auditory brings.
Why then should we admire our
Levites change,
Since 'tis their nat'ral motion? 'Tis not strange
To see a
Fish to swim, or
Eagle fly;
Nor is their
Protean mutability,
More worth our wonder, but 'tis so in fashion,
It merits our
applause, and
imitation.
But I conclude, lest while I speak of change,
I shall too far upon one subject range.
And so become
unchangeable, and by
My
practice, give my
doctrine here the lye,
XLI. To his Friend Mr. I. W. on his Translation of a Romance.
FRom forain soyl He at the first did spring,
Whom conquest crown'd, and custome kept our King;
And from the same, this fancy, whom this pen
Has of an
Alien made a
Denizen.
Dispute who dares: The issue of the brain
Admits a
transplantation, like the train
That buds with Stars; and in this do hit,
The two
fac Totums, Monarchy and
wit.
The industrious
Merchant glutted with the things
That are produced by our mother-springs,
Ransacks the
Ocean, trafficking for more
And rarer beauties from the
forain shore;
And makes our happiness not only be
In
necessaries, but
variety.
So thou with equal diligence hast gone,
To fetch the merchandize of
Helicon:
Not but that wit and fancy here will be
A
Native and
Staple commodity:
Or that composing stories and
Romances,
Were only entayl'd to wits that live beyond Seas:
But as in
dearth, we oft supply our store,
From those that we perhaps reliev'd before.
So now when rare
Inventions and immense,
Are parch'd and shrunk up into hardly
sense,
For want of due
rewards that shou'd distill
From these new
Tympanies, and we call
hills,
[Page 253]You're fain to forage for what e'r must be,
Beyond
Diurnals, or a
Mercury.
Yet ben't discourag'd, for here's no
Excise,
Nor
custome paid on these commodities;
And he that trades in wit by Sea or Land,
Needs not a
convoy, fears no
Rocks nor
Sand.
This traffick is secure against the thump
Of
Spains armado or the
Belgick Trump,
And the
proceed on't, though in this mad Nation,
Is free from
plunder, and from
sequestration.
I do commend thy choice too, for of all
The Sciences, this is most cordial;
Presenting notions to the curious mind,
Of what below we never see nor find.
Herein do differ
History, and this;
This shews what ought to be, that shews what is;
Ungrateful we, if that we should receive
This precious
Jewel, and should nothing give
To Thee, or to its
Author; therefore I
Offer these
lines to both your memory,
To testifie my
thanks, though not my
skill:
What's so
well done, must not be praised ill:
But I
nick-name my duty, when I say
I give, or offer, when I only pay.
XLII. A Satyre on the Rebellion.
URge me no more to sing, I am not able
To raise a note;
Songs are abominable:
Yea
David's Psalms do now begin to be
Tun'd out of Church, by
hymns extempore.
[Page 254]No accents are so pleasant now as those
That are
Caesura'd through the
Pastors nose.
I'll only
weep our misery and ruth,
I am no
Poet, for I speak the truth.
Behold a self against it self doth fight,
And the
left hand prevails above the
right.
The grumbling
guts, i'th belly of the State,
Unthankful for the wholsome food they ate;
Belch at their head, and do begin to slight
The
Cates, to which they had an
appetite:
They long for
kickshawes, and new fangled dishes;
Not which all love, but which each
fancy wishes.
Behold a glorious
Phoebus tumbling down,
While the rebellious Bears usurp the Crown.
Behold a
Teem of
Phaetons aspire
To guide the
Sun, and set the World on fire:
All goes to wrack, and it must needs be so,
When those would
run, that know not how to go.
Behold, a lawful
Soveraign, to whose mind
Dishonesty's a stranger, now confin'd.
To the
Anarchick pow'r of those whose reason
Is flat
Rebellion, and their truth is
Treason.
Behold the loyal Subjects pill'd and poll'd.
And from
Algier to
Tunis bought and sold:
Their Goods
sequestred by a legal stealth,
The
private robb'd t' uphold the
Common-wealth.
And those the only plunderers are grown
Of others
States, that had none of their own.
Robbers no more by night in secret go,
They have a
Licence now for what they do:
If any to the Rulers do complain,
They know no other
godliness but gain:
Nor give us any
plaister for the sore
Of paying much, but only paying more.
[Page 255]What e'r we do or speak, how e'r we live,
All is acquitted if we will but
Give;
They sit in
Bulwarks, and do make the lawes
But fair pretences to a fowler
cause,
And Horse-leech-like cry
give, what e'r they say,
Or sing, the burden of their song is
Pay.
How wretched is that State! how full of wo,
When those that should preserve, do overthrow!
When they rule us, and o'r them
money raigns,
Who still cry
Give, and alwaies gape for gains!
But on those
Judges lies a heavy curse,
That measure crimes by the
Delinquents purse:
The time will come when they do cease to live,
Some will cry
Take, as fast as they cry'd
Give.
XLIII. On a pair of Virginals.
DEath, that ties up the tongues of Man & Beast,
And to each thing gives a
Quietus est;
Gives me a tongue; and I that could not be
Blest with a voyce, now boast variety.
The tale of
Amphion, which could make each tree
Dance to his musick, is fulfill'd in me.
For lo the liveless
Jacks lavaltoes take,
At that sweet
musick which themselves do make:
The various-sounding
strings in consort come,
To make my narrow bulk
Elizium;
Just
Emblem of the State; for in this wise,
He just now
falls. that but just now did
rise.
O would the
Subjects in this
Realm agree,
And meet like strings to make one
harmony!
XLVI. On a Comedy called The Passionate Lovers.
THough I ne'r saw this Play, nor e'r did know
The Author well, nor love with
passion so,
To be a dame for
Terence Comoedie,
Heautontim
[...]rumeno
[...].
But do suppose who e'r the
lover be,
That's really such as the Poet writ,
He'ld have less
love, if he had had more
wit.
Yet as th' old
Topers, when their drinking's gone,
Do love to sit, and see the
work go on:
And as old men when their
performance fails,
Can clap their wings with telling
smutty tales:
So though we've lost the life of playes the
stage,
If we can be
Remembrancers to th' age.
And now and then let glow a
spark in print,
To tell the World there's
fire still lodg'd i'th flint,
We may agen b' enlightned once and warm'd,
Men can't be civil till they be inform'd.
Walk wisely on:
Time's changeable, and what
Was once
thrown down, is now again
reacht at.
And we may see
pleasure and
honour crown
The
Stage, when inconsistent
Tubs kick'd down.
XLV. To the High: Sheriff of S.
Sir,
YOu have giv'n us
Poets entertainment,
Good cheer and wine; we give you
Poets payment,
Good words and
Rhythme; but you out-do us here▪
You match our
Rhythme; but we can't match your
cheer.
And here's the reason, which our
Muses grieves,
Sheriffs are made
Poets, but ne'r
Poets Sheriffs.
XLVI. To G. B. Esquire.
I
Promis'd to come to you Sir, 'tis true,
And I
intended what I promis'd you.
But
Heaven (that all things orders) thought not fit
We two should meet, and therefore hinder'd it:
Not that our
meeting had offensive been
To God or Man, for we had sail'd between
The dangerous
rocks of company, which
wits
And no wits dash against, when in their fits,
They scoffe at
sacred matters, and blaspheme,
Or make
States-men or
businesses their theame.
But such a World of
Heavenly drink came down,
The flouds did rise and all the
Countrey drown;
Men that had souls
unswimable like mine,
Float as drown'd Flies do in a glass of
Wine.
[Page 258]Horses and boots were useless, and you know,
I have no hanging look; and being so
Fat, have the art of
sinking, I was ne'r
Bred 'mong the
fish, nor e'r at
Westminster,
Saw any drown'd, though you and I both know,
Some have been us'd as badly there, and though
I use the
feather 'tis the tother end,
Not that which me from
drowning can defend;
This work's for
Saylors, not a land
Attourney,
For 'tis become a
voyage, not a
journey.
And he that goes to
Ex'ter now from hence,
From that exploit, may very well commence
A
Navigator; which t' attempt I fear,
And thought it safer to stay drinking here:
And send you this from him that's far more willing
To write
ten verses, then to pay
one shilling.
XLVII. To his reverend Friend Dr. S. on his pious and learned Book.
THe times are chang'd, and the misguided
rout,
Now tug to pull in, what they tumbled out:
And with like eagerness, the
factious crew,
Who
ruin'd all, are now expos'd to view:
Their
vizor's off, and now we plainly see
Both what they are, and what they aim'd to be,
And what they meant to do to us and ours,
If either ours or we were in their
pow'rs.
That
vip'rous brood of
Levi who gnaw'd through
Their
mothers bowels, and their
Fathers too,
[Page 259]To break a passage to their lewd designes
have found th' effects of all their
under-mines;
And see themselves
out-acted in their show,
By sucking
Sprouts, that out of them did grow.
They're now out-
wink'd, out-
fasted, and out-
tongu'd,
Their Pupils reap those
fields which they had
dung'd:
Who split the
Church into so many
Schisms,
The zeal of these eats others
Patriarchisms:
And Vermin-like they do that
Corps devour,
Whose
putrefaction gave them
life and
pow'r:
Now they
repent (though late) and turn to you,
Of the
Old Church that's
constant, pure, and
true.
Thanks to such
lights as you are, you have stay'd
In that firm
truth, from which they
fondly stray'd,
Endur'd
reproach, and
want, all violent shocks,
Which rowl'd like
Rillows, while you stood like Rocks,
Unmov'd by all their fury, kept your ground,
Fix'd as the
Poles, whiles they kept twirling round:
Submitted to all
rage, and lost your
all,
Yet ne'r
comply'd with, or
bow'd knee to
Baal.
You
preach'd for love of
preaching, with desire
T'
instruct, and to
reform, while
pay and
hire,
Which made them
preach, were
[...]a'n away from you;
You still strove on, and led the people through
That
Wilderness of
errour, into which
Those
Ignes fatui, tempted by the itch
Of
Pride and
change had led them, when the
Times
Envying your worth,
voted your
Sermons crimes;
And made it
Treason to relieve or hear you;
And constituted to affront and jeer you;
Those
Patentees of
graces and good
livings,
Grown rich with
fees, & fat with full
thanksgivings;
[Page 260]Who rowl'd a
stone upon your mouths for fear
Truth would find out a
resurrection there:
Then from the
press you piously did shew
What, why, and how, we should believe and know;
And pray and practice; made it out to us,
Why our
Church-Institutes were these and thus;
And how we ought t' observe them, so that we
May find them that, which of themselves they be,
Commands and
comforts: This
Sir we do find
Perform'd by this rare
issue of your mind:
Your pious and your profitable lines,
Which can't be
prays'd by such a pen as mine's,
But must b'
admir'd and
lov'd, and you must be
For ever thank'd and
honour'd too by me,
And all that know or read you; since you do
Supply the
pious and the
learned too.
So well, that both must say, to you they ow
What good they
practise, and what good they (
know.
XLVIII. To Colonel Lovelace on his Poems.
SO through the
Chaos crept the first-born ray,
That was not yet grown up to be a
day,
And form'd the
World; as do your powerful rhythmes,
Through the thick darkness of these
Versless times:
These
antingenius daies, this boy strous age,
Where there dwels nought of
Poetry but rage:
Just so crept learning forth the rav'nous fire
Of the Schismatick
Goths and
Vandals ire:
[Page 261]As do in these more
barbareus daies our times,
When what was meant for
ruine, but refines.
Why may n't we hope for
Restauration, when
[...] ancient
Poets Towns, the new raise men;
The tale of
Orpheus and
Amphion be
Both solid truths with this
Mythology?
For though you make not
stones and
trees to move;
Yet men more sensless you provoke to
love.
I can't but think, spite of the filth that's hurl'd
Over this small
Ench'ridion of the World,
A
day will break, when we again may see
Wits like themselves, club in an
Harmony:
Though
Pulpiteers can't do it, yet 'tis fit
Poets have more
success, because more
wit.
Their
Prose unhing'd the State; why may'nt your (verse
Polish those souls, that were fil'd rough by theirs?
Go on, and prosper; though I want your skill,
In weighty matters 'tis enough to will.
And now the
Reader looks I should help rear
Your glories
Trophy, else what make I here?
'Tis not to praise you; for one may as well
Go tell
Committees that there is an Hell;
Or tell the World there is a
Sun; as praise
Your amorous fancy, which it self can't raise
'Bove
Envies reach or
flatteries; Ladies love
To kiss those accents; who dares disapprove
What they stile
good? our lines, our lives and all,
By their
opinions either rise or fall:
Therefore the cause why these are fixed here,
Is
livery-like to shew some great man's near:
Let them stand
bare, and usher, not commend;
They are not for
Encomiums, but t'
attend.
XLIX. To his Friend Thomas Stanley, Esq on his Odes Set and Published by Mr. John Gamble.
STanley the Darling of
Apollo, thou
That mak'st at once both
Verse and
Musick too;
So sweet a
Master of so sweet a
Muse,
Whom not to name with honour, were t' abuse.
How thy words flow! How sweetly do they
Chyme,
When thy pure
Couplets do imbrace in
Rhyme!
How quick, how lovely, and how full of Sence
Thy
Fancy is, and all that springs from thence!
Which
Gamble has enliv'ned by his Art,
And breath' an Active Soul through every part:
And so deduc'd thy Mind to us, that we
May
feast our Ears and Souls with rarity.
How much to Thee, how much to Him we owe,
We can conceive, but cannot make you know;
Nor have we thanks proportion'd to your worth,
Thou that didst make, and He that set them forth,
In such a lively Dress too, We admire
What we cann't praise, what we cann't do,
Desire;
And therefore turn our
praises into
prayers,
That Thou'lt make more such
Odes, He more such (
Ayres.
I. On the famous Romance, called The innocent Impostor.
'TWill be expected now that I should raise
Some Monument unto the
Author's praise,
The
Works, or the
Translators; else I fear,
The Reader 'll wonder what I do make here.
'Tis grown
Apocryphal, and by the
Wits
Quite
voted down; Who hold it not befits
A true-born
Fancy, to be
Smith-field-wise
Put off with
Toll and
Vouch
[...]rs; this defies
Such
Cru
[...]ches; for 'tis of so clear a Nature,
'Twill pass without the Chaplains
Imprimatur,
Or our
Certificates: Besides I carry
Such a dislike to all things
Customary,
I'll
cheat all expectation, and will be
Thankful to them, but chiefly unto thee.
In these
Self-ended times we only do,
Or
thank or praise those we're
beholding to:
So call our
Justice Charity, and say
We do bestow, when we do only pay:
For though the work be rare; yet should it be
Still in its dress, what had it been to me?
And though translated by this worthy pen,
If not exposed to the view of Men,
I had ne'r seen't perhaps, But since all three
Have clubb'd in this production, I must be
Grateful to all, and to give all your right,
Must
praise, and
love, and thank
Bellay, Dod, Wright.
LI. On Dr. J. his divine Romant.
HOw rare! how truly noble's this designe,
To make us fall in love with things
Divine!
And raise our
passions with such pious flames,
To court those
truths, which lay disguis'd in
names
Perplex'd and crabbed, and did heretofore
L
[...]e undiscovered in their sullen
Ore;
And seem'd
unamiable to the sense,
'Cause
unattainable but by th' expence
Of undelightsome
labour and much time.
This
new invention expiates the crime,
Which did too much adhere to youthful
love,
Directs the
soul to doat on things above;
And consecrates th'
affections to extend
Their violent
motion to their proper
end.
The ravish'd
Puipit, which of late was made
A place, not of
instruction but of trade;
Where
Higlers in
Divinity did sell
Salvation to us, and made
heaven and hell
At their disposal, and the way to bliss,
More hard and crabbed then it ought or is;
And did
advance the people, or
condemn
To this or that, just as we
humour'd them:
Made some those heavenly
dishes to derest
And loath, 'cause they so
nastily were drest.
But this ingenuous
Author makes that food
Delightsome to the taste as well as good;
And with such
flowers the paths to virtue strews,
That the dull soul to heav'n delighted goes.
To his great worth, who with
C
[...]lestial wit,
Informs and sanctifies our minds, and brings
Our souls above these low
terrestrial things!
A crown of
Stars must deck his learned
brow,
The lawrel
Garland's too unworthy now.
LII. On the loss of a Garrison.
ANother
City lost! Alas poor
King!
Still
future griefs from
former griefs do spring.
The
World's a seat of change;
Kingdoms and
Kings,
Though glorious, are but
sublunary things:
Crosses and
blessings kiss; there's none that be
So
happy, but they meet with
misery.
He that ere while sate centred to his
Throne,
And all did
homage unto him alone;
Who did the
Scepter of his power display
From
pole to
pole, while all this
rule obey,
From stair to stair now
tumbles, tumbles down,
And scarce one pillar doth support his
Crown.
Town after
Town, are lost
Field after
Field,
This turns, and that
persidiously doth yield:
He's banded on the trayterous tongues of those
That
Janus like, look to him and his
foes.
In vain are
Bulwarks and the strongest Hold,
If the besiegers
bullets are of
gold:
My soul be not
dejected; wouldst thou be
From present
trouble, or from
danger free?
Trust not in
rampires, nor the strength of walls;
The
town that stands to day, to morrow falls:
[Page 266]Trust not in
Souldiers, though they seem so stout;
Where
sin's within, vain is
defence without.
Trust not in
wealth, for in this lawless time
Where
prey is penalty, there
wealth is crime:
Trust not in
strength or courage; we all see
The weak'st oft-times do gain the
victory:
Trust not in
honour, honour's but a blast,
Quickly begun, and but a while doth last.
They that to day to thee
Hosanna cry,
To morrow change their note for
Crucisie:
Trust not in
friends, for friends will soon deceive thee;
They are in nothing sure, but sure to leave thee:
Trust not in
wits; who run from place to place
Changing
Religion as
chance does her face,
In sp
[...]te of cunning, and their strength of
brain,
They're often catch'd and all their plots are vain:
Trust not in
Councels Potentates, or
Kings;
All are but frail and transitory things.
Since neither
Souldiers, Casties, wealth, or
wit,
Can keep off
harm from thee, or thee from it:
Since neither strength nor honour, friends nor Lords,
Nor
Princes, peace or happiness affords,
Trust thou in God, ply him with prayers still,
Be sure of
help; for he both
can, and
will.
LIII. Upon the Kings imprisonment.
IMprison me you
Traytors? must I be
Your fetter'd
slave, while you're at liberty
T'usurp my
Scepter, and to make my
power
Gnaw its own
bowels, and it self devour?
[Page 267]You glorious
villains! Treasons that have been
Done in all ages, are done o'r agen;
Expert
proficients, that have far out-done
Your Tutors
Presidents, and have out-run
The practise of all times, whose acts will be
Thought
Legendary by Posterity.
Was't not enough you made me bear the wrong
of a
rebellious sword, and
viprous tongue,
To lose my
State, my
Children, Crown, and
Wife;
But must you take my
liberty and
life?
Subjects can find no fortress but their graves,
When servants sway, and
Soveraigns are slaves:
'Cause I'll not sign, nor give consent unto
Those
lawless actions that you've done and do,
Nor yet betray my
Subjects, and so be
As
treacherous to them, as you to me:
Is this the way to
mould me to your wills,
To expiate former crimes by greater ills?
Mistaken
fools to think my soul can be
Grasp'd or infring'd by such low things as ye!
Alas though I'm immur'd, my mind is free,
I'll make your very
Gaol my liberty.
Plot, do your worst, I safely shall deride
In my
Crown'd soul, vour base inferiour pride,
And stand unmov'd, though all your
plagues you (
bring,
I'll dye a
Martyr, or I'll live a
King.
LIV. On the Death of King CHARLES.
HOw! dead! nay murdred! not a
Comet seen!
Nor one strange prodigy to intervene!
I'm satisfy'd; heaven had no sight so rare;
Nor so prodigious as his
murtherers are,
Who at this instant had not drawn the air,
Had they not been preserv'd b'his
Funeral Pray'r.
And yet who looks aright, may plainly spy
The
Kingdom's to it self a prodigy;
The scatter'd
stars have joyn'd themselves in one,
And have thrown
Phoebus head long from his throne.
They'ld be the
Sun themselves, and shine, and so
By their joynt
blaze inflame the world below,
Which b
[...]imitation does t' a
Chaos fall,
And shake it self t' an
Earth-quake general.
And 'tis the height of miracle that we
Live in these
wonders, yet no wonders see.
Nature
groan'd out her last when he did fall,
Whose
influence gave quickning to us all:
His soul was
anthem'd out in prayers, and those
Angel-like
Hallelujahs sung in prose,
David the second, we no difference knew
Between th' old
David's spirit and the new:
In him grave
wisdome so with
grace combines,
As
Solomon were still in
David's loynes:
And had he lived in K.
David's time,
H' had equal'd him in all things but his
crime.
Now since you'r gone, great
P. this care we'l have,
Your
books shall never find a
death or grave;
[Page 269]By whose diviner
flame, the world must be
Purg'd from its dross, and chang'd to purity;
Which neither
time nor
treason can destroy;
Nor ign'rant
Error that's more
fell then they.
A piece like some rare picture, at remove,
Shews one side
Eagle, and the other
Dove:
Sometimes the
Reason in it soars so high,
It shews affliction quells not majesty,
Yet still Crown, dignity, and self deny'd,
It helps to bear up
courage, though not
pride;
Trodden
humility in robes of state,
Meekly despising all the frowns of
fate.
Your
Grandsire K. that shew'd what good did flow,
From the tall
Cedar to the
shrub below.
By violent flame to ashes though calcin'd,
His soul int' you we
transmigrated find;
Whose
leafs shall like the
Cybels be ador'd,
When time shall open each
prophetick word:
And shall like
Scripture be the
Rule of good
To those that shall survive the flaming flood:
Whose syllables are
Libraries, and can
Make a small volume turn a
Vatican.
So th' hunted
B
[...]zoar when he's sure to dye,
Bequeaths his
cordials to his enemy.
Rest
Royal dust, and thank the storms that
drove
Against their will you to your haven above.
They have but freed you from those
waves that curl'd
Their bloudy power to drown this
boistrous world:
They've but chang'd
Throne for throne, and
Crown for
Crown;
You took a
glorious, laid a
thorny down.
You sit among your
Peers with
Saints and
Kings,
View how we plot for
sublunary things;
[Page 270]And labour for our ruine; you did fall
Just like our
Saviour, for the sins of all,
And for your own; for in this impious time,
Virtue's a vice, and piety's a crime.
The sum of all whose faults being understood,
Is this, We were too
bad, and you too
good,
LV. On the Kings Death.
WHat means this sadness? why does every eye
Wallow in tears? what makes the lowring sky
Look clouded thus with sighs? is it because
The great
Defender of the Faith and Laws,
Is
sacrificed to the barbarous rage,
Of those prodigious Monsters of our age?
A
prey to the insatiate will of those
That are the
Kings and
Kingdoms cursed foes!
'Tis true, there's cause enough each eye should be
a
Torrent, and each man a
Niobe,
To see a
wise, just, valiant, temperate man
Should leave the
World, who either will or can
Abstain from grief? To see a
Father dye,
And his
half-self, and
Orphans weeping by:
To see a
Master dye, and leave a State
Unsetled, and
Usurpers gape to ha't.
To see a
King dissolve to's mother dust,
And leave his headless
Kingdome to the lust,
And the ambitious wills of such a rout,
Which work its
end, to bring their own about;
'Tis cause of
sorrow; but to see thee slain,
Nay murdred too, makes us grive o'r again:
But to be kill'd by
Servants, or by
Friends;
This will raise such a
grief as never ends:
[Page 271]And yet we find he that was all these things,
And more, the best of
Christians and of
Kings,
Suffer'd all this and more, whose sufferings stood
So much more
great then these, as he more good.
Yet 'tis a vain thing to lament our loss;
Continued
mourning adds but cross to cross.
What's past can't be recall'd; our sadness may
Drive us to him, but can't bring him away;
Nor can a Kingdomes cries re-state the
Crown
Upon his head, which their
sins tumbled down.
Rest then my soul, and be contented in
Thy share of sufferings, as well as sin:
I see no cause of wonder in all this,
But still expect such fruits of wickedness.
Kings are but Earth refin'd; and he that wears
A Crown, but loads himself with griefs and fears:
The World it self to its first nothing tends;
And things that had beginnings, must have ends.
Those glorious lamps of Heav'n, that give us light,
Must at the last dissolve to darkness quite.
If the Coelestial
Architectures go
To dissolution, so must earthy too.
If ruine seize on the vast frame of nature,
The
little World must imitate the
greater:
I'll put no trust in
wealth, for I do see
Fate can take me from it, or it from me:
Trust not in
honour, 'tis but peoples cry,
Who'll soon throw down what e'r they mounted high:
Nor trust in
friends; he that's now hedg'd about,
In time of need can hardly find one out:
Nor yet in
strength or
power; for sin will be
The
desolation of my strength and me:
Nor yet in
Crowns and Kingdomes; who has all,
's expos'd to a heavy though a
royal fall.
[Page 272]Nor yet in
wisdome, policy, or wit;
It cannot keep me harmless, or I it:
He that had all man could attain unto,
He that did all that
wit or
power could do;
Or grace or virtue prompt, could not avoid
That sad and heavy load our sins have laid
Upon his innocent and sacred
Head, but must
Submit his person to bould
Rebels lust;
And their insatiate
rage, who did condemn
And kill him, while he
pray'd and
dy'd for them.
Our only trust is in the
King of
Kings,
To wait with patience the event of things;
He that permits the
Fathers tumbling down,
Can raise, and will, the
Son up to the Crown:
He that permits those
traytors impious hands,
To murther his
anointed, and his Lands
To be usurp'd, can when he sees it fit,
Destroy those
Monsters which he did permit;
And by their head-long and unpitied fall,
Make the Realms
Nuptial of their
Funeral.
Mean time that Sainted Martyr from his throne,
See's how these
laugh, and his good subjects
groan;
And hugs his blessed
change, whereby he is
Rob'd int' a
Crown, and
murther'd into a
bliss.
LVI. A Funeral Elegy.
GOn are those
Halcyon daies, when men
did dare
Do good for
love, undrawn by
gain or
fear;
Gon are our
Heroes whose vast souls did hate
Vice, though't were
cloath'd in
sanctity or
state;
[Page 273]Gon is our
A
[...]brey who did then take's time
To dye, when
worthy men thought life a crime;
One whose pure soul with nobleness was fill'd,
And scorn'd to live when peace & truth were kill'd;
One, who was
worthy by descent and
birth,
Yet would not live a burthen on the earth;
Nor draw his
honour from his
Grandsires name,
Unless his progeny might do the same:
No guilded
Mammon, yet had enough to spend,
To feed the poor, and entertain his friend:
No gaping
Miser whose desire was more
T' enrich himself, by making's
neighbour poor,
Then to lay out himself, his
wealth and
health,
To buy his
Countreys good and
Common-wealth.
Religion was his great delight and joy,
Not as 'tis now to
plunder and destroy;
He lean'd on those two pillars,
faith and
reason;
Not false
Hypocrisie, nor headlong
Treason:
His
piety was with him bred and grown;
He'ld build ten
Churches, e'r he'ld pull down one:
Constant to's principles; and though the times
Made his worth sin, and his pure vertues crimes;
He stood unmov'd, spite of all troubles hurl'd,
And durst support, but not turn with the
World.
Call'd to the
Magistracy, he appear'd
One that desir'd more to be
lov'd then
fear'd:
Justice and
Mercy in him mingled so,
That this
flew not too high, nor that too low:
His
mind could not be carved worse or better,
By mean mens
flattery, nor by great mens
letter:
Nor sway'd by
Bribes, though profer'd in the dark,
He scorn'd to be half
Justice, and half
Clerk;
But all his
distributions ev'nly ran,
Both to the
Pesant, and the
Gentleman:
He did what
nature had design'd him to,
In his due time, while he had strength to do:
And when
decay and
age did once draw nigh,
He'd nothing left to do but only
dye:
And when he felt his
strength and
youth decline,
His bodies loss strength'ned his souls design:
And as the one did by degrees decay,
T'other ran swifter up the
milkie way.
Freed from those sicknesses that are the
pages
Attending
Natures sad decay and ages,
His spotless soul did from his body fly,
And hover in the heav'nly
Galaxy,
Whence he looks down, and lets the living see,
What he was once, and what we ought to be.
LVII. Upon the Death of that Reverend and learned Divine, Mr. Josias Shute.
TUsh, tush
[...] he is not dead; I lately spy'd
One smile at's first-born
Sons birth; and a bride
Into her heart did entertain delight
At the approach of her wish'd
wedded night:
All which delights (if he were dead) would turn
To
grief; yea
mirth it self be forc'd to
mourn.
Inspired
Poets would forget to laugh,
And write at once his and Mirths
Epitaph.
Sighs would engross our breath, there would appear
Anthems of joy, lymbeck'd into a tear:
Each face would be his
death-bed; in each eye,
'Twere easie then to read his
Elegy;
Stories prick'd out to'th tune o'th Passing bell;
The
World re-drown'd in tears, each heart would be
a
Marble-stone, each stone a
Niobe.
But he alass is gone, nor do we know,
To pay for loss of him deserving wo;
Like
Bankrupts in our grief, because we may
Not half we owe him give, we'l nothing pay:
For should our tears like the
Ocean issue forth,
They could not swell adaequate to his worth:
So far his worth's above our knowledge, that
We only know we've lost, we know not what.
The mourning
Heaven, beholding such a dearth
Of tears, showrs rain to liquifie the earth,
That we may see from its
adulterate womb,
If it be possible, a second come:
Till then 'tis our unhappiness, we can't
Know what good dwelt in him, but by the want.
He was no
whirlegig Lect'rer of the times,
That from a heel-block to a Pulpit climbs;
And there such stuff among their
Audients break,
They seem to have mouth, and words, yet cannot speak:
Nor such as into
Pasqnil Pulpits come
With thundering non-sense, but to beat the
Drum
To
Civil Wars; whose
Texts and
Doctrines run,
As if they were o'th
separation:
And by their spiritual law have marry'd been
Without a ring, because they were no kin:
Knowledge and
zeal, in him so sweetly met,
His Pulpit seem'd a second
Olivet;
Where from his lips he would deliver things,
As though some
Seraphin had clap'd his wings:
His painful
Sermons were so neatly dress'd,
As if an
Anthem were in prose express'd:
[Page 276]Divinity and Art were so united,
As if in him both were
Hermophradited.
Oh what an ex'llent
Surgeon has he been,
To Set a conscience (out of joynt by sin;)
He at one
blow could wound and heal; we all
Wondred to see a
purge, a
cordial:
His
Manna-
[...]reathing Sermous often have
Given all our good thoughts life, our bad a
grave.
Satan, and
Sin, were never more put to't,
Then when they met with their still-conquering
Shute:
His
life was the
use of's doctrine; so 'twas known
That
Shute, and
Saint, were
convertible grown:
He did live
Sermons; the
Prophane were vext
To see his actions
comments on his
Text:
So imitable his vertues did appear
As if each place to him a
Pulpit were:
He was himself a
Synod, ours had been
Void (had he liv'd) or but an idle dinn:
His
Presence so divine, that Heaven might be
(If it were possible) more
Heavenly.
And now we well perceive with what intent
Death made his soul become
non-resident:
'Twas to make him (such honours to him given)
Regius Professor to the King of Heaven:
By whom he's
prelated above the skies,
And the whole World's his
See t'Episcopize:
So that (me think) one
Star more doth appear
In our
Horizon, since his being there;
Death's grown
tyrannical by imitation,
'Cause he was learned, by a
sequestration
He took his living; butfor 's Benefice
He is rewarded with eternal bliss.
Let'a all prepare to follow him, for hee's
But gone to
Glory' School, to take
degrees.
LVIII. To the memory of Doctor Hearn, who dyed September, 15. 1644.
SAd
Spectacle of grief! how frail is
Man!
Whose self's a
bubble, and his life a
span!
Whose
breath's like a careering shade, whose sun
Begins to set, when it begins to run.
Lo this Mans sun sets i'th
Meridian;
And this man's sun, speaks him the son of
Man.
Among the rest that come to sacrifice
To's
memory the
torrents of their eyes;
I though a stranger, and though none of those
That weep in
rhythme, though I oft mourn in
prose:
Sigh out some grief, and my big-belly'd eyes,
Long for
delivery at his obsequies:
For he that writes but truth of him, will be,
Though without art,
slander'd with poesie:
And they that praise him right in prose or verse,
Will by the most be thought Idolaters.
Men are incredulous; and yet there's none
Can write his worth in
verse, but in his own.
He needs no other monument of fame,
But his own actions, to blaze out his name.
He was a glory to the
Doctors Gown;
Help to his
Friends, his
Countrey, and his
Town:
The
Atlas of our health, who oft did groan
For others
sickness, e'r he felt his own:
Hippocrates, and
Galen, in his brain,
Met as in
Gemini; it did contain
A Library of skill, a
panoply,
A Magazine of ingenuity:
[Page 278]With every Art his brain so well was
mated,
As if his fancy had been calculated
For that
Meridian; he none would follow,
But was in skill the
Britannish Apollo:
His
Patients grow impatient, and the fears
Of death, lymbeck'd their body into tears.
The widow'd Muses do lament his death;
Those that wrote
mirth, do now retract their breath,
And breath their souls in sighs; each strives to be
No more
Thalia, but
Melpomene:
He stood a Champion in defence of health,
And was a terrour to death's Common-weaith:
His
Esculapian art revok'd their breath,
And often gave a
non-suit unto death.
Now we've a rout, death kills our
General,
Our griefs break forth, grow
Epidemical.
Now we must lay down arms, and
Captives turn
To death; man has no
rampire but an urn:
In him death gets an
University;
Happy the bodies that so neer him lye,
To hear his worth and wit, 'tis now no fear
To dye, because we meet a
Hearne there.
Earth-quakes, and
Cemets usher great mens fall,
At his we have an
Earth-quake General;
Th' ambitious
vallies do begin t' aspire,
And would confront the
Mountains, nay be higher;
Inferior
orbes aspire, and do disdain
Our
Sol; each
Bear would ride in
Charles his wain:
Our Moon's eclips'd, and th' Occidental Sun
Fights with old
Aries for his
Horizon:
Each petty Star gets horses, and would be
All
Sols, and joyn to make a
prodigie.
All things are out of course, which could not be,
But that we should some eminent
death foresee.
Yet let's not think him
dead who ne'r shall dye,
Till time be gulf'd in vast
eternity:
'Tis but his
shadow that is past away;
While he's
eclips'd in earth, another▪ day
His better part shall pierce the skies, and shine
In glory 'bove the Heavens
Chrystaline.
We could not understand him, he's gone higher
To read a Lecture to an
Angels Quire:
He is advanced up a higher
Story,
To take's degrees i'th upper
Form of glory:
He is our
Prodrome, gone before us whither
We all must go, though all go not to gether:
Dust will dissolve to dust, to earth; earth are all
men;
And must all
dye, none knows how, where, nor when.
LIX. An Elegy on the death of his School-master, Mr. W. H.
MUst he dye thus? has an eternal sleep
Seiz'd on each muse, that it can't
sing nor weep?
Had he no
friends? no
merits? or no
purse
To purchase
mourning? or had he that curse
Which has the scraping
worldling still frequented,
To live
unlov'd and perish
unlamented?
No, none of these; but in this
Atlas fall,
Learning for present found its
funeral:
Nor was't for want of
grief, but
scope and
vent;
Not
sullenness, but deep
astonishment;
Small griefs are soon wept out; but great ones
come
With bulk, and strike the straight
lamenters dumb.
This was the School-master that did derive
From
parts and
piety's
prerogative,
The glory of that good, but
painful art;
Who had high learning yet an humble heart.
The
Drake of Grammer
learning, whose great
pain,
Circled that globe, and made that voyage
plain.
Time was, when th' artless
p
[...]dagogue did
stand
With his
vimineous Scepter in his
hand,
Raging like
Bajazet o'r the
tugging fry;
Who though
unhors'd were not of th'
infantry;
Applying, like a
glister, hic haec hoc,
Till the poor Lad's beat to a
whipping-block;
And school'd so long to know a
Verb and
Nown,
Till each had
Propria mari
[...]us of his
own:
As if not fit to learn
As in prasenti;
But legally, when they were
one and twenty.
Those few that went to th'
Univers'ties then,
Went with
deliberation, and were
men;
Nor were our
Academies in those daies
Fill'd with
chuck-farthing Batchelors and
boyes,
But Scholars with more beard and age went
hence,
Then our
new Lapwing-Lectures skip from
thence.
By his industrious labour, now we see
Boyes coated
born to th'
University,
Who suck'd in
Latine, and did
scorn to seek
Their
scourge and
top in
English but in
Greek:
Hebrew, the
general puzler of old heads,
Which the
gray dunce with
pricks and
comments reads,
And dubs himself a
Scholar by it, grew
As
natural t' him as if he'd been a
Jew.
But above
all, he timely did inspire
His Scholars breasts with an aetherial fire:
And
sanctify'd their early
learning so,
That they in
grace, as they in
wit did grow:
Yet neither's
grace nor
learning could
defend him
From that
mortality that did
attend him;
Nor can there now be any difference
known,
between his
learned bones, and those with
none.
For that
grand Lev'ler death hurles to one place,
Rich, poor, wise, foolish, noble, and the
base.
This only is our
comfort and
defence,
He was not
immaturely ravish'd hence.
But to our
benefit, and to his
own,
Undying
fame and
honour, let
alone,
Till he had
finish'd what he was to do,
Then
naturally split himself in two.
And that's
one cause he had so
few moyst eye
[...],
He made men
learned, and that made them
[...]ise,
And over-rule their
passions, since they see
Tears would but shew their
own infirmitie:
And 'tis but
loving madness to deplore
The fate of him, that shall be seen no more:
But only I cropt in my
tender years,
Without a
tongue, or
wit, but sighs and tears;
And Yet I come to offer what is
mine,
An
immolation to his
honour'd shrine;
And retribute what he confer'd on me,
Either to's person, or his memory.
Rest pious soul, and let that happy grave
That is intrusted with thy
Relicks have
This just inscription, That it holds the dust
Of
one that was
Wise, Learned, Pious, Just.
LX. An Epitaph.
IF beauty, birth, or friends, or virtue cou'd
Preserve from
putrefaction flesh and bloud,
This Lady had still liv'd; and had all those,
And all that
Nature, Art or
Grace bestowes.
But death regards not bad or good;
All that's
mortal is his food.
Only here our comfort lyes,
Though death does all sorts confound,
Her better part surmounts the
skies,
While her
Body sleeps i'th ground.
Her soul returns to
God, from whom it came,
And her great virtues do
embalm her name.
LXI. An Epitaph upon Mrs. G.
WHo ever knows or hears whose sacred bones
Rest here within these
monumental stones;
How
[...]ear a
mother, and how sweet a
wife,
If he has
bowels, cannot for his life,
But on her ashes must some tears distill,
For if
men will not weep, this
marble will.
EPIGRAMS Translated.
I. On Rome.
TRav'ller, thou look'st for
old Rome in the
new,
And yet in
Rome, thou nought of
Rome canst view.
Behold the frame of walls, dis-joynted stone,
And the vast Theatre, that's overthrown;
Lo here's
Romes carkass still; thou may'st behold
How the
new Rome is threatned by the old.
Learn hence the power of fate, fix'd things decay,
But that that's alwaies toss'd & mov'd, does stay.
II. On a Quarreller.
A Humorous fellow in a Tavern late,
Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate;
The Surgeon with his instruments and skill,
Searche
[...] his skull deeper, and deeper still,
To feel his brains, and tries if those were sound,
And as he keeps
[...]d
[...] about the wound,
The fellow cryes, Good Surgeon spare the pains;
When I began this brawl, I had no brains.
III. On a Lover.
WHat various griefs within my breast do grow?
I burn, yet from my flames my tears do flow.
I'm
Nile, and
Aetna both together grown,
For the same grief does both
enflame and
drown.
O let my tears, make my strong
flames expire,
Or let my
tears be drunk up by my fire.
IV. On Gold.
IN vain was
Danae clos'd in
brazen Tower,
No brazen fort keeps out a
golden showre.
V. To a Friend.
THou sent'st me
Wine, I'd too much Wine before;
Send
thirst, if thou would'st send to plea
[...] me more.
VI. On Alexander.
GRreat
Alexander thought the World too smal,
Which he with's
warlike hand subdu'd and beat.
But did not he himself most little call?
He in a
little World could not be
great.
VII. On a Bankrupt.
A
Bankrupt heard a
Thief enter by stealth
His house by night, and search about for's wealth.
In vain (quoth he) thou look'st for goods by night,
For I my self can
see none when 'tis
light.
VIII. On a Priest and a Thief.
A
Priest did with a
thief together come,
To th' place where he was to receive his
doom;
Said; be not sad, do but believe, and thou
Shalt be a
guest, to feast with
Angels now.
He sigh'd, and said; if you'll true comfort shew,
Go then and take my place, I'll stay below.
No, quoth the
Priest, this day I keep a
fast,
And cannot eat until this day be past.
IX. On Love and Death.
LOve once and
Death chang'd weapons, & Death took
Loves fiery dart, while
Cupid got Death's hook.
Love at the body, Death at th' mind lets fly,
This makes
old men to
love, and
young men
dye.
X. On Women.
WOmen are pleasant evils, and they have
Two proper seasons, when in
bed or
grave.
XI. On the Wolf Sentenc'd.
THe Countrey people once a
Wolf did take,
That of their
Sheep &
Lambs did havock make▪
Some
voted that he should be
crucifi'd;
Others would have him in the
fire be fry'd:
Some, to be hew'd in pieces with a sword,
And to be thrown to
dogs to be devour'd:
Among the rest, one whom unlucky fate
Had doom'd to th' troubles of a
married State,
(The common lot of men) oh? Friends (sayes he)
Lay by your forks, and ropes, that knotty be;
The sword, the fire, the guns, the cross, the whip
[...],
Are but slight tortures, I have one out-strips,
All those, if you would punish him to th' life,
Fit for his crimes, then
let him wed a wife.
XII. On one more learned then others.
THou mak'st thy self more learned then thy better
[...],
And brag'st thou know'st
Greek, Hebrew, Latine letters.
Thou hast them in thy fore-head, and thy hand,
As if th' hadst all the tongues at thy command;
For the
executioner has made thee more
Letter'd by far then thou wert e'r before.
XIII. On Galla.
BLame not fair
Galla that she'ld married be,
(Though she be fair) to one that could not see:
For in that thing in which she took delight,
And which he lov'd,
there is no need of sight.
XIV. On one Lowsie and Poor.
A Lowsie fellow once was ask'd, how he
Having so many cattel, poor could be?
He answered hence proceeds my poverty,
Though I'ld sell all for nought, yet none would buy.
XV. A happy Death.
LEarn to live well, if thou'ldst dye happily;
And that thou may'st live happy,
learn to dye.
XVI. On Nero.
WHen bloudy
Nero his own mother slew,
He did not hurt her face, or eyes, 'tis true;
But ripp'd her
bowels up; 'twas justly done,
They'd guilt enough in breeding such a
Son.
XVII. On Love.
LOve is a Merchandize, and
Venus drove
The first
Monopoly; Rich only Love:
What cannot fortune hire alas for gold?
When
Gods themselves for this are bought and sold?
XVIII. Rules of Drinking.
IF the
Philosopher sayes true, the first
Draught 'is refeshment unto them that thirst;
The second,
mirth and
wit doth still afford;
But perfect
drunkenness issues from the third.
If to these rigid rules you'l me confine,
Hence glasses; I'll in
flagons drink my Wine.
XIX. A vain Beastor.
THou need'st not boast, cause thou afore does go,
If that be honour,
my dog does so too.
XX. To Momus.
THou call'st me begger,
Momus, and dost tell
I must not triumph so, nor so much swell,
Because I have but
little; and yet that
Is not my own, but other Mens
Estate:
Why shouldst thou thus upbraid me with my want?
Must I be blam'd because my
fortunes scant?
I'm honest still; thou liv'st by
theft alone;
Between us two the difference is none;
For both of us on others bread do dine;
Only thou
steal'st thy meat, I
beg for mine.
XXI. On Phillis Tears.
WHen
Phillis comes t'her husbands grave, she brings
No
garlands, nor with
Odorif'rous things
Sprinkles the ground: only her tears doth shed
Upon the grave, wherein her joy was laid.
[Page 291]The flowers do straight spring up, as if she had power
To ripen with her eyes, and
moysten with her showre.
XXII. On a proud Fool [...]
THou call'st me ignorant; 'tis true; but how,
If I know more then
Socrates did know?
He knew one thing, that
he did nothing know;
I know two things, that I know nought, nor thou.
XXIII. On Time.
OUr joyful years do pass too soon away,
A minutes grief seems an eternal day.
XXIV. On a blind, and lame Beggar.
HOw happily fate hath together joyn'd,
Two feeble men, one lame, and t' other blind
[...]!
The blind Man bears the lame, the lame supplies
By his direction, t' other's want of eyes.
See what the iron power of need can do,
It makes the blind to see, the lame to go.
XXV. On a Spartan Lady.
A
Spartan Lady bravely stew her son,
Because she saw him from the battail run;
Thou canst not be (quoth she) a
Spartan known,
Unless thy valiant mind declare thee one.
XXVI. On Philip of Macedon.
JOve, shut the gates of
heav'n, for
Philip sayes,
He'l enter it; since
earth and sea obeys
His powerful scepter, there is left no room
On
earth for him, he must to
heaven come.
XXVII. The Answer.
I Will not though I may, shut heaven gates,
Nor do I care for
Philip, or his threats:
If Earth and Sea his scepter do obey,
The way to
Heaven's too narrow,
Hell's his way.
XXVIII. Frugality.
USe thy Estate, as if thou'ldst dye to day,
Yet spare thy Estate as if thou'ldst live for ay:
He's truly wise who whe'r he
spend or
spare,
Observes the
mean, and does
extreams forbear.
XXIX. On two Wives.
I Blame him not, who having one wife had,
Another seeks; the last was good or bad;
If good, he hopes there are of such good store;
If bad, he hopes, he shall haue such no more.
XXX. On a Murtherer.
A Flying
Murtherer lay beneath a wall
That was all ruinous, and like to fall:
An
Angel to him did in's sleep appear,
Bad him be gone, and lodge some other where:
No sooner gone, but down the wall straight fell;
Then he thanks
God, that he escap'd so well.
The
Angel said, Dost think I like thy deed▪
Because from this
destruction I thee freed?
Sins of this nature never scape my curse▪
Thou'rt saved from this death, to meet a worse.
XXXI. On a Fisherman.
A Fisher while he angled in a brook,
A dead mans
skull by chance hung on his hook;
The pious man in pity did it take,
To bury it, a Grave with's hand did make;
And as he digg'd, found
gold: Thus to good men,
Good
turns with good
turns are repay'd agen.
XXXII. On a burnt Ship.
UNhappy Ship, that must by flames expire,
And having scap'd by
waters, fall by
fire!
The
Step-dame Sea hath safely landed Thee;
Thy mother
Earth's more treacherous then she.
XXXIII. Aliter.
I That ere while, of waters was afraid,
For lack of waters, am by
fire destroy'd:
You waves, whom late I curst, I now implore,
Then I'd
too much, and now I long for
more.
XXXIV. On a Covetous Man.
THou that art counted rich, I count thee poor;
Use only shews our
wealth; we have no more
Then what we use; what we keep for our
heirs,
We cannot say 'tis our goods, for 'tis theirs.
XXXV. On Hermocrates.
HErmocrates made's will, when sickness came,
And made himself Exec'tor of the same:
Then he began to count, how much 't would cost
To th'
Doctor and himself, for the health he'd lost;
But when he saw to how much it did come,
He'ld rather
dye, then give so great a sum:
So to keep's wealth, and to save charges, dies;
His
Heirs do mourn in
Sack, and
braveries.
XXXVI. On a poor and sick Man.
WHen age and sickness did upon me seise,
Of
age none could, of
want none would me ease.
[Page 296]With palsy'd limbs, I to my grave did go,
And there did end my want and sickness too:
The lawes of fate preposterously were plac'd;
I found my
grave at first, my
death at last.
XXXVII. On a Hare.
A Hare unsafe by land, leap'd into th'
main,
Flying land-dogs, was by a sea-dog slain.
Poor worm! flies she to
Earth, to
Sea, to
Skie,
Each hath a
dog, and she by
dogs must dye.
XXXVIII. On Balaams Asse.
THe Prophet
Balaam wondred heretofore
An Asse could speak, and now there's none speak more.
XXXIX. Upon Democritus and Heraclitus.
WEep
Heraclitus; it fits the age where in
Nothing but filth, nothing but sorrow's seen:
And laugh
Democritus, laugh while thou list,
Nothing but folly, nought but vain thou seest.
Yet both endure one
labour, both on
sadness.
Now need requires (since all the
World is mad).)
A thousand laughing, and a thousand sad:
'Tis time the
World turn'd (madness is so sore)
T'
Anticera, the grass to
Hellebore.
XL. Out of Catullus.
MY Mistress saith she'll marry none but me,
Though
Jove himself should force her unto it:
But
Womens words unto their lovers be
So firm, they may in wind or waves be writ.
XLI. On an Astronomer that tryed by rules of Art to find whether he were a Cuckold.
STar-gazing fool? thou from the
signs would'st see,
And
Planets face what thy wives dealings be.
She does her works below, where Sun ne'r pries,
And though she's light, she mounts not to the skies,
'Cause she's kept down by men; if in the sphear
Thou
Venus see, thou think'st thy wife is there:
And if the Bull or Aries thou dost see,
Thou think'st they are reflections of thee.
[Page 288]Fool keep at home: when thou abroad dost go,
In imitation her legs do so too:
And when thou gazest in the skies to know
Her works, she does even what she please below.
XLII. On Geneva's Arms.
GEneva bears the Eagle and the Key;
The Empires this, and that the Papacy:
If th' Emperour's Eagle, and the Pope agen
Resume his Key, where is thy Empire then?
XLIII. To a sad Widow.
WHile widdow'd wife, for thy drown'd husband thou
Dost with perpetual tears thy cheeks bedew,
Eterniz'd in three graves his happy shade,
In water twice, and once in Earth is laid.
XLIV. On a bribed Judge.
TWo parties had a difference, and the cause
Did come to be decided by the Laws:
With a new
Coach; T'other with same intent,
Gives him two
Horses; each with like design,
To make the
Judge to his own side incline.
The cause being try'd, the
Plantiffs overthrown;
O
Coach (quoth he) thou art the wrong way gone;
The Judge reply'd, It cannot but be so;
For where his
Horses draw, your
Coach must go.
XLV. To a jealous Husband.
IN vain thou shutt'st thy doors by day, in vain
Windows by night, thy wifes lust to refrain;
For if a
Woman only chaste will be
In watch and ward, she has no
chastity.
XLVI. On proud Rome.
SHut up (ye Gods) the gates of Heaven above,
And do thou keep thy heavenly Castle
Jove:
Now sea and Land are subject unto
Rome;
Only to
Heaven they've yet a path to come.
XLVII. Against Mourning.
MEn justly prayse the
Thracians who do mourn
When children from their mothers womb are born;
But dead, they think they every way are blest,
Because the
fates have laid them to their rest.
For well they know, all men are born to ill,
But being dead, they've peace and quiet still.
XLVIII. Epigramma in Juliam.
ME nive candenti petiit modo
Julia, rebar.
Igne carere nivem, nix tamen ignis erat.
Quid nive frigidius? nostrum tamen urere pectus
Nix potuit manibus,
Julia, missa tuis.
Quis locus insidiis dabitur mihi tutus amoris,
Frigore concreta si latet ignis aquâ?
Julia sola potes nostras extinguere flammas,
Non nive, non glacie, sed potes igne pari.
XLIX. Translated.
JUlia once stroke me with a ball of
snow;
I thought snow was not
fire, yet that was so.
[Page 301]Then snow what's colder? yet 't had pow'r t'
inflame
My breast, when from my
Julia's hand it came?
What place have lovers free from treacheries,
When fire within congealed water lies?
Julia alone can make my flames expire,
Yet not with ice, or snow, but equal fire.
L. An Essay of the Contempt of Greatness: being a Dialogue of Lucian made English.
Lucian,
WIth a long beard and broad, with hair untrim'd,
Coatless, and shooe-less, almost naked limb'd;
A wandring life you lead, as
beasts do do,
No certain place are you confin'd unto:
On the bare ground, and in the open
air,
You rest your bones; the
mantle which you wear,
Your
only garment both for night and day;
Though
rough and
course, had worn it self
away;
But by the
dirt that does thereon abide,
Its gaping cranies daily are supply'd;
The
earth and
air both, you about you bear:
As
earth 'tis dirty, and as thin as
air:
Grave Sir, what may you be pray?
Cynicus
Young-man, why
Seems this so strange t' you? here you see live I
Content with what I can with
ease obtain,
And without injury or danger gain:
What costs no
grief, nor
trouble, I can feed
And cloath my self withall, I nothing
need,
[Page 302]But unconcern'd can pass by and deride
All, but what serves to
nourish, warm, and
hide:
Pray tell me, do you think, that vitiousness
Lies in superfluous luxury?
L.
Surely yes.
C.
And don't you judge
frugality in men
To be a virtue too?
L.
I do.
C.
Why, then
When you see me more
thriftily to live
Then other men, and them their minds to give
To
cost and
dainties, can it justice be
To
wink at those, and only censure me?
L.
Alas Sir, 'tis not
Thriftily you live,
But
nigardly and
basely. God does give
With liberal hand his gifts, and with the same
We ought to take them, and we're much too blame
If we neglect them; for we shall make void
Those
blessings, which he sends to be enjoyed.
You pine your self, make your
enjoyment scant
By
wilful affectation still to want,
And live in poverty.
C.
Therefore I pray,
Since we are gone so forward in the way;
Let's well consider, what by
wanton's meant,
Or penury, and what's sufficient.
L.
Please you, let it be so;
C.
Is that which can
Supply the just necessity of man,
Esteem'd
sufficient? or d'you judge or know
A thing to be desired beyond that?
L.
No.
C.
May it be then call'd
indigence or want,
Or poverty, when men sufficient han't?
L.
[Page 303]
It may no doubt.
C.
Then I've sufficient, for I am without
Nothing that should supply
necessity:
More I nor
crave nor
want.
L.
How can that be?
C.
You'll quickly know, if you do well pertend
And observe rightly, what's the proper end
Those things were made for, which you say we
need▪
Is not a house a shelter?
L.
Yes indeed.
C.
And are not garments coverings?
L.
True, they be.
C.
Both these
defend and
cover us, that we,
Whom these do
shelter, and do
cover so,
By their
defence and
warmth should better grow.
L.
No question.
C.
Do my
feet now seem to you
The worse, because not cover'd from your view?
L.
I know not truly.
C.
If you do not know,
Learn what's the office of the feet.
L.
To go.
C.
And do my feet go worse then others do.
L.
Perhaps they don't.
C.
Nay they do not, I know;
And since their office they perform as well
Naked as
clad, why should the clad excel?
And for my body, why's not that as good
As other mens? if it were not, it wou'd
Be more diseas'd, infirm and weak then theirs:
But no
infirmity in mine appears;
And therefore since that
health and
strength do show
A bodies excellence, why's not mine so?
Does this appear diseased?
L.
[Page 304]
Not to me.
C.
Therefore my feet or body cannot be
In want of other covering; for ne'r doubt it,
If they did want, they'ld be the worse without it;
For
want's a real evil to mankind;
What e'r we need, we
languish till we find.
I thrive in body, and look fresh you see,
And sound and strong; my meat does nourish me:
That fare that's counted course and vile by you,
Makes me both strong and healthful.
L.
Very true.
C.
Else how could aged I who've liv'd so long,
Remain so nimble, active, and so strong?
Did I on
dainties feed, and gayly go,
To pamper
appetite as others do;
Dwingle and pine I should, like them whose food,
Though twice more costly, is not half so good.
L.
Perhaps you might.
C.
What reason then is there,
Why you should pass a censure so severe
Upon my way of living, and esteem it
Wretched and miserable?
L.
I so deem it,
Because great nature (whom we all adore)
And the great
Gods this spacious world did store,
With such variety of
gifts, and those so good,
So excellent both for our ease and food,
In such
abundance too, that they supply
Our coy
delight as
well's necessity,
And made all
common as' the world is, that
All might of all alike participate:
These blessings then we may, nay ought t'enjoy,
And not to be so overnice and coy,
[Page 305]To sleight them all, or all but very few,
As they're neglected by the beasts and you:
Water you drink as
beasts do, and you eat
What you next find, as
dogs do drink and meat;
And lodging's all alike; to rest or feast,
You have no better pattern then the beast:
The
grounds your common bed, and for your cloaths,
They'r such as every beggar justly loaths.
You do content your self with things thus vile,
Thus poor, and thus contemptible; the while
Our bounteous God spreads his unwearied hand,
And with variety gluts sea and land;
Puts his fat cattle on our flowry plains,
And fructifies the teeming earth with rains;
Who makes returns in
fruits such various store,
Nature her self doth seem embroyder'd o'r.
The
tugging Bee brings her mellifluous juice,
Extracted from all flowers for mans use:
Oyl like a deludge over-whelms the ground;
And
Amber floating on the sea is found:
Peoples the seas with fishes, and each field,
Groans as o'r burden'd with the
corn they yield;
With various rare productions of such things
As our delight, and with't our wonder brings.
But above all the amorous fruitful
Vine,
Hugs the tall trees, and the heart-cheering
Wine,
Blushes and swells in the plump grapes which be
Drunk with their own rare juyce, and why should we
B'endow'd with these abilities which we find,
Do fill the body, and adorn the mind?
Why have we strength, and art, and wit to frame
Such stately fabricks, but t'enjoy the same?
And why does Art such various things produce,
But for our ornament, delight, and use?
[Page 306]If you do well in slighting these things thus,
God did not well in sending them to us:
Should you by any other be debar'd
Th' enjoyment of these things, how ill and hard
would it appear t' you? it would vex your mind,
As much as if you're fetter'd and confin'd:
Why then does your own self restrain,
And limit from them thus?
C.
I should disdain
Indeed to be confin'd by other men,
And kept from these enjoyments so; but then
Hear me a little; let me ask you this;
Suppose a man that
rich and
bounteous is,
Should make a sumptuous
feast, and should
invite
Guests of all sorts, and please their appetite
With
cheer of all sorts too; for
strong men strong
Dishes; and for the
weaker palats mix among
Some milder
delicates, and fill his feast
To the
degree and
palat of each
guest;
If 'mong the guests there should be
one that wou'd
Snatch and devour all that on th' table stood,
Reaching from end to end; though
lusty and
strong,
Yet eats those meats that to the weak belong;
Out-sits all others and out-feeds 'um too,
Would you think this man
temperate?
L.
Surely no.
Nor temperate, nor good.
C.
But then suppose
Another person should neglect all those
Delicious
junkats, and that
costly fare,
And those inticing delicates that are
Superfluously invented to invite
To new attempts the sated appetite,
[Page 307]And placeth in one plain and wholsome dish,
All that he needs, and all that others wish,
And feeds but sparingly thereon, don't you
Think this a temperate man?
L.
Indeed I do
And on just reason.
C.
Do you apprehend
By what I say, what 'tis I do intend?
Or shall I tell you?
L.
Pray explain your mind.
C.
God's this feast-
Master, who of every kind
With
store of
various blessings has supply'd
Our various
wants, and
vast desires beside:
For
healthy men and
strong he doth
provide,
Such
diet as their health and strength can 'bide;
The sick and weak he doth with
food supply
Apt for their sickness and infirmity:
Not that we
all should upon
all things feed;
But
all have
all things that they truly need:
Yet so
enrag'd our vast desires
still be,
And so
insatiate is our mind, that we
Reach at, and
gripe what e'r we meet withall;
And alwaies think what e'r we have too
small
T' appease our
appetite that
still aspires;
And new
enjoyments breed but new
desires:
The
Land and
Seas both contribute their
store
To our fond
wills, yet
still we long for more.
What nature scatters with her
lib'ral hand
O'r the wide earth, we ransack for; no land,
No Sea so dangerous, nor so far remote,
But we invade to fill the craving throat,
And oft neglect what's
wholsome, and what's good,
Because 'tis easie, or 'tis common food;
[Page 308]Preferring things bought
dearly, and fetcht far,
Before all such as in their nature are
Useful and good; as if their vertue were
Not to be
good, but
difficult and
dear:
And therefore choosing rather to endure
A
restless, then a quiet life and pure.
Consider all those
things, which you provide
To gratifie your
humour, lust, or
pride:
Your
stately buildings, costly furniture;
Imbroydred garments, made to tempt the
viewer;
Your
gold and silver jewels, and your
rings,
And such
unneedful, and
unuseful things;
For which you
vainly ransack every
nation,
Not for
necessity, but
ostentation:
With how much
toyle, and how much
danger they
Must be
procur'd and
purchas'd for you, nay
With how much
bloud and
slaughter of
poor men,
Whom your
vain luxury does make so, when
They for their
livelihood must
plow the
seas,
And traverse
foreign land meerly to please
Your
pamper'd appetites, and find their
grave
I'th
bosome of an
unrelenting wave;
Or if they scape the
seas, they meet by
land
Men
crueller then
waves, or
rocks, or
sand:
And when they are through
dangers, costs, and
pains,
Purchas'd and
brought, dusturb our hearts and
brains,
And cause
dissentions, treacheries, and
blowes;
Murthers and
thefts, frauds, rapines, make
friends foes;
Make
brothers brawl with
brothers, and
inspires
Sons with unnatural rage against their
Sires;
Husbands destroy their
Spouses, and the
Wives
Break off all
bonds, and
snatch their
husbands lives.
So did it make
Euriphile of old,
Basely betray her husband for his Gold.
[Page 309]Yet when all's done, these costly garments can
Warm or
defend or
dignifie a man,
No more then those which only serve for use:
Nor do your stately fabricks more conduce
Unto our
shelter and
protection, then
Those humble
Co
[...]ages, which old wise men
Built for
necessity, to guard, and warm's
Against the rage of rapine or of storms:
Those spacious dishes, and vast
goblets too,
Wherein you riot, not for need, but shew;
Though beaten silver, or of massie
gold,
Can't make the liquor better, which they hold;
Nor make the food more wholsome, nor more sweet;
Nor make you see the
poyson you may meet
Subtly convey'd into them: Nor d' your heads
Or bodies rest more on your downy beds;
Nor sleep more soundly 'cause your bed-steads be
(What ere you dream) of gold or Ivory:
Nay we do often find, those men enjoy
More quiet and contented sleep, who lay
Their wearied bodies on the humble ground,
And with Heaven only
canopy'd around,
Then those can find, who roll their limbs in beds
Of Down, or spread with
Persian Cover-leds;
Nor is their health, or strength the more, who eat
The most delicious, and most costly
meat,
Then theirs whose
diet is but mean and small,
To nourish and refresh themselves withall:
We see the pamper'd bodies often wax
Tender, infirm, unfit for manly
Acts:
Consumptive, full of pains and maladies,
Unknown by persons temperate and wise;
For luxury and sloth, how e'r it pleases,
Serves but to feed
Physicians and
diseases:
[Page 310]Yet what a bustle do men make, what dust
To gratifie their palat, pride, and lust?
Nay which is more then this, so vile, so vain
Mens hearts are grown, and so corrupt their brain,
That they pervert the use of things, and bend
The
Creatures use against the
Creatures end.
L.
Pray Sir, who do so?
C.
You wh' abuse poor Men.
Although you'r fellow Creatures, and have been
Made of the self-same matter, and inspir'd
With the same soul and form, and have acquir'd
The same perfections too; and by their birth,
Have as good interest in what's here on Earth,
As the Great'st
He; only by policy,
By fraud, or force kept in a low degree,
By those that
property devis'd, and fram'd
Bounds for those things which nature free proclaim'd:
So brought degrees into the World, and so
Masters and Servants made, and high and low,
To gratifie Mens
lazyness and pride,
Some must be serv'd, ador'd and deifi'd;
Mounted in state and triumph, born along
On others shoulders, through th' adoring throng,
And the poor slaves, are harness'd for that toyl,
And us'd like
beasts; do asses work the while,
And those in highest honour with you stand,
Who most poor slaves can tread on and command:
But you blame me because I do despise,
And won't partake of such slight
vanities,
But live content with what I do enjoy;
Not grasping
superfluities that cloy,
And indispose the mind, and with them bring
Cares and
vexations, which to them do cling:
[Page 311]Nor are they only difficult to gain,
But also in the enjoyment very vain:
You don't
consider how few things, how small
A
wise contented man may live withall;
With plenty and with comfort; all those things
We truly need are few and mean; this brings
Your
scorn on me, to think or say at least
'Cause I live so, I live but like a
beast:
But by that rule the
Gods themselves would be,
('Cause they want nothing) verier beasts then we.
Consider rightly, and you'l clearly find,
Which is the best way to dispose your mind:
Or to want
much, or
little, 'tis the fate
Of the inferior, and the infirmer
State,
To want more then the nobler and the strong;
Thus to weak
infants do more wants belong
Then to th' adult; and thus
sick persons do
Want more then healthful; and the
women too
Want more then men; and men want more then Cods,
For they want nothing: Therefore those, by odds,
Approach most nearly to the sacred choir,
Who want the
least, and who the
least desire.
Can you suppose great
Hercules, that
he
Whom noble acts proclaim'd a
Deity,
Was in a wretched miserable case,
Because without a garment he did trace
Th' uneven
Earth, and wandred up and down
Without a
purple robe, or costly
gown;
His body almost naked, only drest
In a rough skin tane from a slaughter'd beast;
Desiring none of all those trifles that
We vainly prize, and at so dear a rate?
[Page 312]Surely he could not miserable be,
Who others did
protect from misery;
Nor was he poor; his power did extend
To sea and land; where ever he did bend
His force, he won the victory, and ne'r
Met with his conquerour, nor with his Peer:
D' you think he wanted garments or such things,
Who conquer'd and commanded
Lords and
Kings?
'Tis not to be imagin'd; no, he was
Content and sober in his mind; and as
He
valour shew'd, he shew'd his
temp'rance too,
And ne'r indulg'd himself (as now men do)
With vain delights. Or what say you to me
Of
Thesius his disciple? was not he
King of the
Athenians, and most valiant too
Of all his stout
contemporaries, who
By his renowned actions, justly won
The reputation of great
Neptune's Son?
Yet was his body naked, his feet bare,
Nor did he shave his beard, or cut his hair.
His limbs were hard and hairy, and in that
He our bold
Ancestors did imitate;
Who held a smooth and softly skin to be
An argument of mens
effoem'nacy:
And this their actions spoke them men, even so
Their plain and simple fashions shew'd them too;
They thought a beard mans natural ornament,
And Lyons too; and that the
Mane was sent
For the same end to Horses; and there is
In both by nature plac'd a
Comelyness,
A grace and ornament; these I propose
Unto my self to imitate, not those
Ridiculous men of this
deluded age,
Whose undiscerning fancies do engage
[Page 313]Their fond desires to doat on
Lushious fare
And
gorgeous vain attire, and only there
Place their imaginary Happiness:
For my part I desire not, I profess,
My hough should differ from a Horse, but be
Like Houghs as
Chirons were, alls one to me:
I am the nobler much and happier,
That no more garments then the
Lyons wear;
And that my palat does no more require,
Or choyser delicates then
Dogs desire;
No better Lodging then the Earth I crave;
And for my dwelling-house the world I have;
And for my diet I provide such meat,
As without cost or trouble I may eat:
That
Gold and
Silver bravely I despise,
From the desire whereof all ills arise,
That do befall Mankind;
Seditious jars,
Slaughters and treacheries, Rebellion, Wars,
Things that ne'r touch my heart, who little have
Yet nothing want, not more then little crave:
Thus stands the
case with me; and now you know
Both my profession, and my practice too;
All which is different from Common strains,
And from the opinion of
Vulgar brains,
From whom no wonder we in habit do
Differ, since we in
Principles do too:
But I admire at you, who attribute
T' all sorts of Men their
habit and their suit;
To th'
Harper his peculiar garb, and so
To the
Tragedian his; and yet you do
No habit of distinction yet devise,
Or set apart for
vertuous Men or
wise;
But vainly think it fit that they should go
Apparel'd as the fools and vulgar do,
[Page 314]A thing both ill and inconvenient too:
And certainly if any habit is
Proper for th' good and wise, 'tis such as this
I wear, which the luxurious
Gallants hate,
And more then Vice scorn and abominate:
My garment's course, and rough, and made of hair;
My hair's unshav'n, and both my feet are bare;
Yours are like
Pathicks, spruce and finical,
Essoeminate Courtiers that cannot at all
Be from the rout distinguished or known;
Nor by your habits difference nor your own:
Your garments soft like theirs, and gay like theirs,
You wear as many as the
gallant wears:
As various too in colour and in shapes,
As
Protean as
Jove in all's escapes:
So
gay your coats, and cloaks, so neat your
shooes,
To trick and kemb your
hair, such art you use,
And so much
time and
cost thereon bestow,
To curl and powder't for the smell and show,
To tempt, and cheat each other; you that wou'd
Have people think you're happy, wise and good,
Out-do the
Vulgar in these vanities,
Those
Vulgar which so proudly you despise:
Yet you must grant that they don't come behind,
In parts of
body, nor in gifts of
mind,
The gay'st of you, but are as strong to
toyle;
As stout to
fight as you, whom
lust can foyle,
And want on pleasures conquer and subdue
As soon as those are least esteemed by you:
You in your meat, drink, sleep, and your array,
Are as
luxurious and vain as they;
You scorn forsooth to walk a foot, but will
By Beasts or by poor men, be carry'd still,
[Page 315]Whil'st I without relenting can abide
Both heats and colds, and what ere can betide
Us mortals, and with equal mind I bear
All things that
God sends down, what ere they are,
For which content you count me miserable;
Whereas you thriving worldlings are not able
So to compose your souls to be content
With your
condition, but do still relent,
Vex, and repine in every State; all that
Is present you
dislike, still aiming at
Things absent with great longing; when you lye
Cold in the
Winter, you for
Summer cry;
And when the
Summers heat you do obtain,
You
Summer loath, and
Winter court again:
Too hot still, or too cold, like
bodies ill,
You are repining and complaining still:
The same effects diseases in them do
Produce, Your
Customes do beget in you:
'Twixt both this only difference we find,
They're in their bodies
sick, you in your mind:
Yet not content that your own selves are so
Misled, you'd tempt and draw in others too
To these absurdities and ills with which
You have perplext your lives, led by the itch
Of blind desire and custome, not the laws
Of
Reason and of
Judgement; your
lust draws
And hurries you which way it will; you go
By
violent motion, whe'r you will or no:
Like to light bodies swimming on a stream,
Your
lusts drive you, as does the
torrent them;
Just as a
Rider on an untam'd horse,
Is carry'd, not by's will, but th' horses force;
Can nor go where he please, nor get on's feet,
Whom if one should in his fierce
hurry meet,
[Page 316]And ask him where he rides, if truth he sayes,
His answer must be,
Where my Horse doth please.
To the same question you must answer too,
Where your
affections hurry you, you go:
Pleasure sometimes, sometimes
ambition drives,
And sometimes
avarice does rule your lives;
Contrary
passions work contrary waies;
Fear this way,
anger that way, all your daies
You're toss'd like empty
ships from this to that,
Desiring still, but ne'r agreeing what:
You are on many
Horses mounted, true,
All wild, and all untamable by you;
You climb the craggy rocks, you cross the Seas,
Stick at no hard or dang'rous passages;
No
Countrey so remote, no toyle so great;
No danger so apparent, cold or heat,
Or pain or hunger frights or hinders you;
If your
affections bid you go, you do:
While my contemned life keeps me at home
Safer, and quieter, then you that rome:
I can converse with whom I please, and do
What I (that is my reason) prompts me to;
The
ignorant, though rich, I can contemn,
And with a
free-born mind slight theirs, and them:
Th'
intemp'rate, and
effeminate from me fly,
Fearing my habit, and my
gravity;
The wise, the modest, and the virtuous be
The sole
companions and delight of me;
While I contemn the
wanton Men and vain,
Whose glory's in their wealth, attire and train;
And bravely can their wealth and them deride,
And make my
scorn, that which they make their
pride:
View but the
Statues of the Gods, and see
If they're not simple-habited like me.
Who ere the
Gods attire and fashion seeks,
Shall find their
habit, and their
beards, and
hair.
Just as my
hair, and
beard, and
habit are:
They are not painted, comb'd, nor trim'd like you;
No upper coat made to mislead our view:
But one loose simple
vest like mine, they do
Wear both to cover and adorn them too:
Therefore henceforth do you slight me no more,
Nor yet upbraid me, as you've done before
For my plain
habit, since the
gods prefer
It before all the rest, and for their wear,
Make choyce of this attire, and wisely do
Lead us by
precept, and
example too;
Which when thou'st ponder'd well, thou'st find it then,
Better to be like gods, then like vain men.
LI. A Paraphrase upon the first Chapter of Ecclesiastes.
THus said the
Royal Preacher, who did spring
From holy
David Israel's blessed King;
All things are vain, most vain, nay vanity,
Yea vanity of vanities they be.
See how the industrious
mortals toil and care!
Look how they travel, how
turmoyl'd they are!
When their
work's ended, and their
race is run,
What profit gain they underneath the Sun?
This
Generation that appears to day,
To morrow vanisheth and fleets away:
In whose unstable mansion there comes
The next, to fill their
Predecessors rooms:
[Page 318]And these but come and go; but this vast frame
Th'
Earth still remains, though not the very same:
The glorious Heavenly
Charioter new drest,
Riseth in burnish'd glory in the
East,
And circles this vast
Globe with constant Race,
Till it returns to its first rising place.
Th' unconstant
wind that now doth southward blow,
Anon to th'
North from whence it came, will go:
It whirleth still about, yet in its change,
It still returns from whence it first did range:
The posting
River, though about it wanders,
Curling it self in intricate
Meanders,
Yet with a greedy, and a head strong motion,
It runs to its original the
Ocean:
Whose vast unsatiate
womb it cannot fill;
For as its
taking, so 'tis
giving still;
And by alternate
gratitude supplies
The thirsty Earth, and makes new
streams arise,
Which by an ever active
imitation
Return from whence they had
crigination:
Thus in this toilsome
fabrick every thing
Is full of labour, and doth trouble bring
To the still craving
Mortal, whose false breast,
Vainly supposes this a place of
rest;
And while he toyles his
labours to possess,
Endures more troubles then he can express:
The restless
Eye is never satisfi'd
With viewing objects; nor doth th' ear abide
Content with hearing; But the senses all
Grow by fruition more
hydropical;
And every fresh
enjoyment straight expires,
And's buried in the
flames of new desires.
The thing which hath been in the daies of yore,
Shall be again, and what's now done no more,
[Page 319]Then what hereafter shall agen be done;
And
there's no new thing underneath the Sun;
There's no
Invention; that which we stile
wit,
Is but
remembrance; and the fruits of it,
Are but old things reviv'd. In this round
World,
All things are by a
revolution hurl'd.
And though to us they variously appear,
There are no things but what already were:
What thing is there within this world that we
Can justly say is
new, and cry
Come see?
We can't remember things that have been done
Ith'
Nonage of the World, when time begun;
And there will come a time, when those that shall
Succeed us, shan't remember us at all;
When things that have been, or that shall be done,
Shall be entomb'd in vast
oblivion:
I that your
Preacher am, was he that sway'd
A
Royal Scepter, and have been obey'd
By th'
Israelites, and in
Jerusalem
Did wear great
Judah's Princely
Diadem,
And us'd my wealth, my power, and strength of mind,
To seek and search for wisdom, and to find
Thereby the causes and
effects of all
Things done upon this
subsolary ball;
The works of our great
Architect survey'd;
The firm
foundation which his hand had laid;
The various
superstructures small and great,
Mens
labours how they strive to
Counterfeit;
And in their several
postures how they strive
To
feed, and
fence, and keep themselves alive;
How they do love and hate, are foes and friends,
Upon mistaken grounds, and false
self-ends;
How they doe
doe, and
undoe, how they pant
And tug to kill imaginary
want;
Their self-created
troubles I did spy:
And in my Towring over-search I see
Both what Men
are, and what they ought to be:
A sore and tedious
travel to the mind,
Which our great
God in wisdom has design'd
For us poor Sons of
mortals, and thought fit
That we therein should exercise our wit.
All that hath been, and all that hath been done,
All
Creatures actions underneath the Sun;
My searching
soul hath seen by contemplation,
And lo all's
vanity, and the souls
vexation:
All men, all things are crooked and perverse,
Full of defects are it, and they, and theirs,
All so
imperfect that they're not at all;
And (which we may the great'st
vexation call)
This
crookedness cannot be
rectifi'd;
Nor those
defects (though numberless) supply'd:
When I arriv'd the very top of all,
That the mistaken
Mamonists miscal,
And think their chiefest blessings;
wealth and
wit,
With all th' additaments that cleave to it:
Then did I to my heart Communicate
And said;
Lo I've attain'd a vast estate,
And do in wisdome
far transcend all them
That reigned before me in Jerusalem;
And to compleat the
wisdome of my mind,
To my large
knowledge have experience joyn'd;
I did apply my active mind to know
Wisdome and folly, nay and
madness too:
And from th' experience of all, I find
All this is but
vexation of the
mind:
For in much
wisdom lies much
grief; and those
That increase
knowledge, but increase their woes.
LII. A Speech made to the Lord General Monck, at Clothworkers-Hall in London the 13. of March, 1659. at which time he was there entertained by that worthy Company.
NAy then let me come too with my
Address,
Why mayn't a
Rustick promise, or profess
His good affection t' you? Why not declare
His Wants? how many, and how great they are?
And how you may supply them? Since you may
See our
hearts mourn, although our clothes be
gray.
Great
Hero of three Nations! Whose bloud springs
From
pious and from
pow'rful Grand-sire Kings,
With whose
bloud-royal you've
enrich'd your
veyns,
And by continu'd
Policy and
Pains
Have equall'd all their
Glory; so that now
Three
Kinglefs Scepters to your feet do bow,
And court Protection, and
Alliance too;
And what great men still
reach'd at,
stoops to you:
But you're too truly
Noble to aspire
By
Fraud or
Force to
Greatness, or t' acquire
Scepters and
Crowns by robbery, or base
And wilful breach of
Trusts, and
Oaths; nor place
Your
happiness in
ravished Dominion,
Whose
Glory's only founded in
opinion,
Attended still with danger, fear, and doubt,
And fears
within, worse then all those
without:
You must still
watch, and
fear, and
think, and must
Lose all
content to gratifie one
lust;
Should you invade the
Throne, or aim at
Pelf,
Throw
down three Nations to set up your self;
"They alwaies
toyl, and alwaies guarded go.
You are for making
Princes, and can find
No work proportion'd to your
pow'r, and
mind,
But
Atlas-like to bear the
World, and be
The great
Restorer of the Liberty
Of three long captiv'd
Kingdomes, who were thrown
By others strong, delusions, and their own
Misguided zeal, to
do and suffer what
Their very Souls now
grieve and
tremble at;
Debauch'd by those they thought would
teach and
rule 'um,
Who now they find did
ruine and
befool 'um:
Our
meanings still were
honest, for
alas!
We never
dream't of what's since come to pass;
'Twas never our
intent to
violate
The setled
Orders of the
Church or
State,
To throw down
Rulers from their lawful Seat,
Merely to make ambitious
small things great;
Or to
subvert the
Lawes; but we thought then
the
Laws were
good, if manag'd by
good men;
And so we do think still, and find it true;
Old Lawes did more good, and less harm then
new;
And 'twas the plague of Countreys and of Cities,
When that
great belly'd house did spawn
Committees.
We fought not for
Religion, for 'tis known,
Poor Men have little, and some great Ones none;
Those few that love it truly, do well know,
None can take't from us, whe'r we will or no.
Nor did we fight for laws, nor had we need;
For if we had but gold enough to feed
Our talking
Lawyers, we had
Laws enough,
Without addressing to the
sword or
Buffe.
Nor yet for
Peace; for if we had done so,
The
Souldiers would have beat us long ago:
Yet we did fight, and now we see for what;
To shuffle mens Estates; those owners that
Before these wars, could call
Estates their own,
Are beaten out by others that had
none.
Both
Law and
Gospel overthrown together,
By those who ne'r
believ'd in, or
lov'd either.
Our
truth, our
trade, our
peace, our
wealth, our
freedom,
And our full
Parliaments, that did get, and
breed 'um,
Are all devour'd, and by a
Monster fell,
Whom none, but you, could satisfie, or quell:
You're
great, you're
good, you're
valiant, and you're
wise;
You have
Briarcus hands, and
Argus eyes;
You are our
English Champion, you're the true
St.
George for England, and for
Scotland too:
And though his
story's question'd much by some,
Whe'r true, or false, this
Age and those to come,
Shall for the future find it so far true,
That all was but a
Prophecy of you;
And all his great and high
Atchievements be
Explain'd by you in this
Mythology.
Herein you've far out done him; he did fight
But with one single
Dragon: but b' your might,
A Legion have been tam'd, and made to serve
The People, whom they mean t'
undo and
starve:
In this you may do higher, and make fame
Immortalize your
celebrated name.
This ages
glory, wonder of all after,
If you would free the
Son, as he the
Daughter.
LIII. Leges Convivales quod faelix faustumque convivis in Apolline sit.
NEmo asymbolus, nisi umbra huc venito,
Idiota, insulsus, tristis, turpis abesto.
Eruditi, Urbani, Hilares, modesti adsciscuntur,
Nec lectae foeminae repudiantur.
In apparatu, quod convivis corruget nares nil esto,
Epulae delectu potius, quam sumptu parantur;
Obsonatur, & coquus convivarum gulae periti sunto;
De discubitu non contenditur
Ministri à dapibus oculati, & muti,
A poculis auriti, & celeres sunto.
Vina puris fontibus ministrantur, aut vapulet hospes,
Moderatis poculis provocare sodales fas esto,
At fabulis magis quàm vino velitatio fiat,
Convivae nec muti, nec loquaces sunto.
De seriis, aut sacris, poti, & Saturi ne disserunto;
Fidicen nisi accersitus non venito.
Admissorisu, tripudiis, choreis, cantu, salibus,
Omni gratiarum festivitate sacra celebrantur;
Jeci sine felle sunto,
Insipida poemata nulla recitantur;
Versus scribere nullus cogitur;
Argumentationis totius strepitus abesto;
Amatoriis querelis, ac suspiriis liber angulus esto.
Lapitharum more, Scyphis pugnare, vitrea collidere,
Fenestras excutere, supellectilem dilacerare ne fas esto
Qui foras dicta vel facta eliminet, eliminator,
Neminem reum pocula Jaciunto.
Focus perennis esto.
Ben. Johnsons sociable rules for the Apollo.
LEt none but
Guests or
Clubbers hither come;
Let Dunces, Fools, sad, sor did men keep home;
Let learned, civil, merry men b'invited,
And modest too; nor the choice
Ladies sleighted:
Let nothing in the
treat offend the Guests,
More for delight then cost prepare the feasts:
The
Cook and
Purvey'r must our palats know;
And none contend who shall sit high or low:
Our waiters must quick-sighted be and dumb,
And let the
drawers quickly hear and come:
Let not our wine be mixt, but brisk and neat,
Or else the dinkers may the
Vintners beat.
And let our only emulation be,
Not drinking much, but
talking wittily:
Let it be voted lawful to stir up
Each other with a moderate
chirping cup;
Let none of us be mute, or talk too much,
On serious things or sacred let's not touch
With sated heads and bellies: Neither may
Fidlers unask'd obtrude themselves to play:
With laughing, leaping, dancing, jests and songs,
And what ere else to grateful mirth belongs;
Let's celebrate our
feasts; And let us see
That all our jests without reflection be:
Insipid
Poems let no man rehearse,
Nor any be compell'd to write a verse:
All noise of vain
disputes must be for born,
And let the lover in a
corner mourn:
To fight and brawl (like
Hectors) let none dare,
Glasses or windows break, or hangings tare.
[Page 326]Who ere shall publish what's here done or said,
From our Society must be banished:
Let none by drinking do or suffer harm,
And while we stay, let us be alwaies warm.
LIV. Cromwell's Panegyrick, upon his riding in triumph over the baffled City of L.
SHall
Presbyterian bells ring
Cromwel's praise,
While we stand still and do no
Trophies raise
Unto his lasting name? Then may we be
Hung up like
bells for our malignity:
Well may his
Nose, that is
dominical,
Take
pepper in't, to see no Pen at all
Stir to applaud his merits, who hath lent
Such valour, to erect a
monument
of lasting
praise; whose name shall never dye,
While
England has a
Church, or
Monarchy.
He whom the laurell'd
Army home did bring
Riding
Triumphant o'r his conquer'd King,
He is the
Generals Cypher now; and when
He's joyn'd to him, he makes that one a
Ten.
The Kingdomes
Saint; England no more shall stir
To cry St.
Geooge, but now St.
Oliver:
He's the Realms
Ensign; and who goes to wring
His
Nose, is forc'd to cry,
God save the King.
He that can rout an
Army with his name,
And take a
City, ere he views the same:
His
Souldiers may want
bread, but ne'r shall fear
(While he's their
General,) the want of
Beer;
(
Helicon-like) makes
Poets Laureat:
When Brains in those
Castalian liquors swim,
We sing no Heathenis
[...]
Pean, but an
Hymn;
And that by th' Spirit too, for who can chuse
But sing
Hosanna to his King of
Jews?
Tremble you
Scottish zealots, you that han't
Freed any
Conscience from your
Covenant:
That for those
bald Appellatives of
Cause,
Religion, and the
Fundamental Laws,
Have pull'd the old
Episcopacy down;
And as the
Miter, so you'll serve the
Crown:
You that have made the
Cap to th'
Bonnet vail,
And make the
Head a servant to the
Tail.
And you curst spawn of
Publicans, that sit
In every
County, as a plague to it;
That with your Yeomen
Sequestrating Knaves,
Have made whole
Counties beggarly, and slaves.
You
Synod that have sate so long to know
Whether
we must believe in God, or no;
You that have torn the
Church, and sate t' impaire
The
Ten Commandements, the
Creed, the
Prayer;
And made your
honours pull down heavens
glory,
While you set up that
Calf, your
Directory:
We shall no wicked
Jews-ear'd Elders want,
This
Army's made of
Churches Militant:
These are new Tribes of
Levi; for they be
Clergy, yet of no University.
Pull down your
Crests; for every bird shall gather,
From your usurping backs a stolen
feather:
Your Great
Lay-Levite P. whose Margent tires
The patient
Reader, while he blots whole quires,
Nay reams with
Treason; and with
Nonsence too,
To
justifie what e'r you say or do:
[Page 328]Whose
circumcised ears are hardly grown
Ripe for another
Persecution:
He must to
Scotland for another pair;
For he will lose these, if he tarry here.
Burges that Reverend Presby-dean of
Pauls,
Must (with his
Poundage) leave his
Cure of Souls,
And into
Scotland trot, that he may pick
Out of the
Kirk, and nick-nam'd
Bishoprick.
And
Will the Conquerour in a
Scottish dance,
Must lead his running Army into
France.
And that still-gaping Tophet
Goldsmiths-Hall,
With all its Furies, shall to ruine fall.
We'll be no more gull'd by that
Popish story,
But shall reach heav'n without that
Purgatory:
What honour does he merit, what renown
By whom all these oppressions are pull'd down:
And such a Government is like to be
In
Church and
State, as eye did never see:
Magicians think he'll set up
Common-Prayer;
Looking in's face, they find the
Rubrick there:
His
Name shall never dye, by fire nor floud,
But in
Church-windows stand, where pictures stood:
And if his soul loathing that house of clay,
Shall to another
Kingdome march away,
Under some
Barns-floor his bones shall lye,
Who
Churches did, and
Monuments defie:
Where the rude
Thrasher, with much knocking on,
Shall wake him at the
Resurrection.
And on his Grave, since there must be no
Stone,
Shall stand this Epitaph;
That he has none.
LV. A Record in Rhythme, Being an Essay towards the Reformation of the Law, offer'd to the Consideration of the Committee appointed for that purpose. Written by some men of Law, at a time when they had little else to do.
London, ss.
BE it remembred now that formerly,
To wit, last Term o'th' holy
Trinity,
Before the
Keepers of the liberty
Of
England, by the full authority
Of the long
Parliament at
Westminster,
Priscilla Morecrave widow came, by her
Atturney
M. B. and prefers,
I'th Court of Upper Bench, a bill of hers,
Against one
Roger Pricklove, who doth lye
A prisoner in the
Marshalls Custody
Et caetera, and 'tis upon a plea
Of trespass on the
Case, Pledges there be
To prosecute the suite, to wit,
John Doe
And
Richard Roe. And the said bill also
Doth follow in these very words, to wit
In legal manner,
London, Scilicet.
Declaration.
Priscilla Morecrave Widow, doth complain
Of
Roger Pricklove, who doth now remain,
Prisoner to th'
Marshal of the
Marshalsie▪
Of the said Keepers of the
Liberty
Of
England, by authority and power
Of Parliament, i'th' Bench superiour,
Before the same
Keepers themselves that be,
For that (to wit) whereas the aforesaid she
Priscilla Morecrave, is a person just,
Honest, and faithful, one that never durst
Give the least cause for to be thought unchast,
But hath liv'd ever modest, and was grac't,
With godly education, and demurely,
Behav'd her self; and all her life most purely,
Hath with the zealous and precise consorted;
And free from all uncleanness was reported,
Who never was amongst the well affected,
Stain'd with a Crime, or in the least suspected;
But with the pious people of this Nation,
Hath had good fame, credit, and reputation;
By which good reputation, she hath gain'd
Not only love, and favour, but obtain'd
A plentiful estate, by which most freely
She manag'd her Affairs; And that
Ralph Seely,
One of the Assembly late at
Westminster,
A godly-Gospel-preaching-Minister,
Was earnest suiter in the way of Marriage,
To have her for his yoke-fellow; his carriage;
[Page 331]And his most Saint-like loving humble speeches,
Had her consent to all that he beseeches.
And she agreed to give him all content,
To wed him by the Act of Parliament:
Three times the Contract publish't, then their trust is
That all shall be compleated by the Justice:
But this said
Roger all aforesaid knowing,
Maliciously intending her undoing,
To blast her reputation, and dishonour
Her unstain'd Chastity; to cast upon Her
Infamous obloquy, to dis-repute Her;
And to deprive her of her foresaid Suiter;
By breaking of the marriage was intended;
To leave her to the world lost, and unfriended;
In month
September, day of the same Eleven,
One thousand six hundred fifty and seven,
Of our Lords year, as by our computation,
Our Common-wealth reckons from th' incarnation,
At
London in the parish of St.
Mary
Bow, in the ward of
Cheap, he then contrary
To truth most falsly and maliciously
In hearing of right worthy Company,
And honourable persons,
Noble Lords,
Did speak these false, and most reproachful words,
To and off her the
Plaintiff; that's to say,
You are a Pockie Whore, and at this day
You have three Bastards living, which do dwell,
Two in Pick-hatch,
and one in Clarkenwell:
By reason of which false malicious speaking
Of the said
Roger, to her great heart-breaking;
The
godly Gospel-Minister, her Suiter,
Forbears his former suit, and for the future,
Did make profession he would never take her
To be his
Consort, but did quite forsake her;
[Page 332]And all her friends with whom he had repute,
Do now esteem her for a
Prostitute;
Whereby she is the worse, and damnifi'd,
One thousand and five hundred pounds, beside;
And thereupon she doth her suit produce,
In th' Upper
Bench, because of this abuse.
Imparlance.
And now until this day, that is to say,
On
Munday three weeks after Michaels day
In this same Term, which very day until
Roger had leave t' emparl unto that Bill,
And then to answer it; before the same
Keepers, as well the said
Priscilla came,
I'th Court of Upper Bench, at
Westminster
By that Attourney nam'd before, for her,
As the aforesaid
Roger, who doth come
By his Attourney
A. B.
And doth defend the force and injurie,
When, where,
et ceaeera. And said that she,
The said
Priscilla, ought not maintain, nor
Have thereupon her Suit against him, for
Protesting, not acknowledging that she
Is half so honest as she'ld seem to be;
Nor is her body, or her life so clear,
Nor so unsported, as she would appear;
Nor is she of so chaste a reputation,
As is pretended by her Declaration:
Protesting also that the said
Ralph Seely
(Though oft together did both he and she lye)
[Page 333]Ne'r meant to Marry her, but all his power,
Of love was quench'd in less then half an hour.
Besides he'ld quite undo her; if he had,
His
learning was so small his
life so bad.
For Plea he saith that at the time, wherein
She does suppose these slandrous words t'have bin
Spoke by th' aforesaid
Roger, she the said
Priscilla was nor Widow, Wife, nor Maid;
And though she pass'd for an unbroken Virgin,
She catch'd th' aforesaid
Presbyter in her gyn;
And with his wall-ey'd
Saintship plaid the sinner,
Who b'ing inspir'd by a Thanksgiving dinner,
Did
carnally her body know, to wit
The crime of
Fornication did commit;
In the same
Ward, and
Parish, to his Honour,
He at one clap got three great Boyes upon her.
All which for privacy were put to feeding
At
Bridewell and
Pick-hatch, to learn good breeding:
And she in recompence clap'd him so sore,
With
Anglice French-
POX, it made him rore;
And put his
Genitals in such a pickle,
That all his Parish women did article,
And out him of his
Benefices twain,
And into
Scotland made him trot again:
Wherefore (as lawful 'twas) on this occasion,
He spake the words laid in the Declaration.
And this he
Justifies, and judgement crave,
If she this suit ought to maintain or have.
Replication.
And she the said
Priscilla doth maintain her
Said Action, against all that's said to stain her;
And saith this
Court nor will nor can forejudge her,
For ought that's pleaded by the foresaid
Roger;
But though by his said Plea, she's forc'd to carry,
Her suit against him, yet she ought to carry;
Protesting therefore she's not such a liver,
Nor of such Fame, as the said Plea doth give her
Out for to be, but that she hath not vary'd
One jo
[...] in life from what she hath declared:
And on the said
Ralphs part protesting farther,
That of the
Kirk he was a Godly Father;
And of as pure and chaste a conversation,
As any
Presbyter within the Nation:
And free from any lustful act committing,
With her, or any other deed unfitting:
For
Replication saith, she was not knowing
Of the said
Ralph but three years last foregoing:
During which time, and till the said words spoke were
By the said
Roger (that almost have broke her)
She liv'd a
Matrons life, chaste, grave, and thrifty,
And came unto the Age of
three and fifty;
And the said
Ralph all the said time, by reason
Of his much preaching in and out of season;
And of his fasting long, and longer praying,
And from his peoples not their duties paying,
In the same
Ward and
Parish, grew so weakly,
That of his life he did despair weekly:
[Page 335]Which weakness had so very much out-worn him,
That in his bed he was not able turn him;
Till that a learned
Doctor of the
Colledge
Who of his sickness had full perfect knowledge,
For gaining of his health did much exhort him,
To wed an honest
Matron to Comfort him:
Which the said
Ralph well liking, and well knowing
The honour to the said
Priscilla owing,
And thinking that delayes might greatly worse him,
With Zeal, did Court her for a wife to nurse him:
And she in pity to his weak
Condition,
Did condescend to be his she
Physician,
And for their joynt desires better carrying,
A day by both appointed was for marrying:
But on the sudden off the same was broken
By the said
Roger's words aforesaid spoken;
By means whereof, he the said
Ralph, endure
Could not the said
Priscilla for a Cure,
But of relief his expectations failing,
And his long sickness more and more prevailing;
In Month
October, day thereof that
first is,
In the
Lords year that formerly exprest is;
At the said
Ward, the said
Ralph much in trouble,
Did dye, to's loss, possess'd of living double:
And left the said
Priscilla to bemoan her,
For that no other man would after own her;
And that she truly doth reply and don't lye,
She prays may be inquired by the
Country.
Rejoynder.
And the aforesaid
Roger saith the Plea
By her the said
Priscilla formerly
Put in and pleaded by her
Replication,
In the aforesaid manner, form, and fashion,
And the whole matter that's contained there,
Are not sufficient in the
law, for her
The said
Priscilla, to maintain her aforesaid
Suit against him, and there need be no more said:
Nor by the laws of
England is it fit,
That he should make answer unto it;
This to averr he's ready. Whereupon
For want of better
Replication
In this behalf, he doth a judgment pray,
And that she from having her action may
Be barr'd, for this against him; And for
The causes why he doth in Law
demurr
Upon that
Replication, he the said
Roger according to the Statute made,
And in such case provided, doth declare
And shew to th' Court of Upper Bench that's here,
These causes following, to wit, that this
Said
Replication insufficient is,
Negative, pregnant, and
uncertain, rude,
Double, wants
form, and does not
conclude
Rightly, according to the legal way.
Joyning in Demurrer.
And she the said
Priscilla here doth say,
That the said
Plea which by reply has been
Pleaded by her, and what's contain'd therein,
In point of
Law, good, and
sufficient be,
Her suit against him to ma
[...]ntain; And she
That
Plea and matter, pleaded as above,
Is ready here both to maintain and prove,
As this
Court shall consider, and think fit,
And 'cause he does not answer it, nor yet
Deny the
Replication any way,
The said
Priscilla (as before) doth pray
Judgement, and dammages to be judg'd to her,
For all this injury which he did do her:
But 'cause this
Court here not advised is
Of giving judgment of the premises,
A day's giv'n to both parties to appear
I'th Upper
Bench, before the
Keepers here
At
Westminster, till
Munday after
eight
Dayes of St. Hillary, for the receipt,
And hearing of their Judgment upon it,
For that the
Court is not advis'd as yet.
LVI. To the Kings most Sacred Majesty, on his miraculous and glorious return 29. May, 1660.
NOw our
Spring-royal's come, this cursed ground,
Which for twelve years with Tyrants did abound,
Bears
Kings again, a memorable Spring!
May first brought forth,
May now brings home our
King;
Auspicious Twenty ninth! this day of
Mirth
Now gives
Redemption, which before gave
Birth.
Hark, how th' admiring people cry, and shout,
See how they flock and leap for joy; the Rout,
Whose
Zeal and
Ignorance, for many years,
Devis'd those Goblins
Jealousies and
Fears,
And fighting blindfold in those puzling Mists,
Rais'd by the conjuring of their
Exorcists,
Wounded, and
chas'd, and
kill'd each other while
Their Setters-on did share the prey, and smile
Now the delusion's o'r, do plainly see
What once they were, what now they ought to be
T' abused Trumpet that was only taught
To inspire Rebellion, now corrects its fault;
Tun'd by your
Fame; and with more chearful voyce,
Contributes sounds, and helps us to
Rejoyce:
The Guns which roar'd for your best subjects bloud,
Disown their cause now better understood;
The Bells that for sedition long chim'd in,
As if themselves too, Rebaptiz'd had been,
[Page 339]Convert their notes ecchoing with louder peal,
The harmony of Church and Common-weal:
While in contiguous
Bon-fires all the Nation
Paint their late fears, and sport with
Conflagration;
'Bout which rejoycing
Neighbours friendly meet,
And with fresh wood the kind devourer greet.
Mean while, th' old
Subjects, who so long have slept
In
Caves, and been miraculously kept
From
Rage and
Famine; while the only thing
That fed and cloath'd them, was the hope of
King,
Do all
New-plume themselves to entertain
Your long'd-for
Majesty, and
welcome Train.
And (as in
Job's time 'twas) those
Spurious things,
Who look like
Subjects, but did ne'r love
Kings,
Appear among your
Subjects in array
That's undiscernable, unless more gay.
All with loud
hallows pierce the smiling skies,
While brandish'd
Swords please and
amaze our eyes.
Why then should only I stand still? and bear
No part of
triumph in this
Theatre?
Though I'm not wise enough to speak t' a
King
What's worth his ear, nor rich enough to bring
Gifts worthy his acceptance; though I do
Not ride in
Buff and
Feathers, in the show;
(Which
Pomp I did industriously eschew,
That
Cost being more to me, than th'
shew to you)
Nor do I love a Souldiers garb to own,
When my own Conscience tells me I am none.
Yet I'll do duty too, for I've a mind
Will not be idle, but will something find
To bid my SGVERAIGN
Welcome to his own
Long-widow'd Realm, his
Scepter, Crown & Throne;
And though too mean and empty it appear,
If he afford a well-pleas'd
Eye and
Ear,
[Page 340]His pow'r can't by my
Weakness be withstood,
Bee't what it will, he'll
find, or make it good.
Hail long-desired
Soveraign! you that are
Now our sole
joy and
hope, as once our
fear!
The Princely
Son of a most pious
Sire
Whose
Precepts and
Example did inspire
Your tender years with
virtues, that become
A
King that's fit to rule all
Christendome:
Which your great Soul hath so improved since,
Europe can't shew such an accomplish'd
Prince:
Whose whole life's so
exemplary, that you
Convinc'd those foes, which we could not
subdue;
And those that did t' your Court t' abuse you come,
Converted Proselytes returned home:
Such strong and
sympathetick virtues lye
In your great name, it cures when you're not nigh,
Like Weapon-salve; If fame can reach up to
This height of Cures, what will your person do?
Your
Subjects high'st
Ambition, and their
Cure,
Bold
Rebels terrour, you that did endure
What e'r the
Wit or
Malice of your foes
Could lay on you or yours, yet stoutly chose
To suffer on, rather than to requite
Their injuries, and grew
Victorious by't;
And by your patient suffering did subdue
The
Traytors fury, and the
Traytors too.
The great King makers favourite, a
Prince
Born to a
Crown, and kept for't ever since.
From
Open force, from all the
Close designs
Of all your
Foes, and all our
Catilines,
From all th' insatiate malice of that bold
Bloud-thirsty
Tyrant, from his
sword, and
gold,
Which hurt you more; and from your own false
Friends,
Whom he still kept in pay to serve his ends
[Page 341]Yet you're deliver'd out of all these things,
By your
Protector, who's the
King of
Kings.
No more that proud
Usurper shall proclame
Those partial
Conquests which but brand his name,
To all posterity, no more remember,
His thrice auspicious third day of September;
Since he
fought not for victories, but paid;
Nor were you
conquer'd by him, but
betray'd:
And now your
May, by love, has gotten more,
Than his
Septembers did, by
bloud, before.
Thanks to that
Glory of the West, that Star,
By whose conductive influence you are
Brought to enjoy your own, whose em'nent worth
These
Islands are to small to
Eccho sorth:
Whose
courage baffled
fear, whose purer
soul
No
bribes could e'r
seduce, no
threats controul,
But strangely cross'd the proverb, & brought forth
The best of
Goods from th' once-pernicious
North,
To whose
Integrity, your Kingdomes owe
Their
restauration, and what thence does flow,
Your blest
arrival; with such
prudence still
He manag'd these affairs, such
truth, such
skill,
Such
valour too, he led these Nations through
Red Seas of
Bloud, and yet ne'r wet their shoe.
Blest be the Heavenly pow'rs, that hither sent
That Noble
Hero, as the instrument,
To scourge away those
Furies, and to bring
To's longing
subjects our long
absent King.
Welcome from forein
Kingdoms, where you've been,
Driv'n by hard-hearted
Fate, and where you've seen,
Strange men and manners; yet too truly known,
No Land less
Hospitable than your own;
Right to themselves, by being kind to you;
From
profess'd foes, and from
pretended friends,
Whose feigned
love promotes their cover'd
Ends.
"
Kings treating Kings, springs not from love, but state,
"
Their love's to policy subordinate.
From
banishment, from
dangers, and from
want,
From all those
mischiefs that
depend upon't,
You're truly
welcome, welcome to your
throne,
Your
Crowns and
Scepters, and what ere's your
own,
Nay to what's
ours too, for we find it true,
Our wealth is gotten and preserv'd by you.
Welcome 't your Subjects hearts, which long did burn
With strong desires to see your bless'd
Return.
Welcome t' your
friends, welcome t' your wisest
foes,
Whose bought
Experience tells them now, that those
Riches they've got by
plunder, fraud, and
force,
Do not
increase, but make their
fortunes worse,
Like
Robbers spoyls, just as they come, they go,
And leave the
wretches poor and
wicked too.
They see their error, and that only you
Can give them pardon, and protection too.
Since you're come out o'th fire, twelve years refin'd,
With
hardned body, and
Experienc'd mind.
Only that crew of
Caitiffs, who have been,
So long, so deeply plung'd in so great sin,
That they
despair of
pardon, and believe,
You can't have so much
mercy to forgive,
As they had
villany t' offend, and so
They to get
out, the further in do go.
These never were, and never will be true
(What e'r they say or swear) to God or you.
[Page 343]The scum and scorn of every sort of men;
That for abilities, could scarce tell
ten;
And of estates proportion'd to their parts;
Of mean enjoyments, and of worse deserts,
Whom
want made
bold, and
impudence supply'd
Those gifts, which
art and
nature had deny'd;
And in their practice perfect Atheists too,
(For half-wit, and half-learning makes men so).
These first
contriv'd, and then
promoted all
Those troubles, which upon your Realm did fall;
Inflam'd three populous Nations, that they might
Get better
opportunity and
light
To steal and
plunder, and our goods might have,
By robbing those, whom they pretend to save,
Our new
commotions new
employments made,
And what was our
affliction grew their
trade:
And when they saw the
plots, th' had laid, did take,
Then they turn'd
Gamesters, and put in their stake,
Ventured their
All; their Credit which was small,
And next their
Conscience which was none all,
Put on all
forms, and all
Religions own,
And all alike, for they were all of none:
A thousand of them han't one
Christian soul,
No
Oathes oblige them, and no
Laws controul
Their strong desires but
poenal ones; and those
Make them not
innocent, but
cautelous.
Crimes that are scandalous, and yield no
gain,
Revenge or
pleasure, they perhaps refrain;
But where a crime was
gainful to commit,
Or pleas'd their
lust or
malice; how they bit!
This did invade the
Pulpit, and the
Throne,
And first made them, then all that's ours, their own▪
Depos'd the
Ministers and
Magistrates,
And in a godly way, seiz'd their estates;
Those neutral sinners, by
omission, which
Had good estates,
for it was not a sin
To plunder, but t' have ought worth plundring.
And by religious forms, and shews and paints,
They're call'd the
godly party, and the
Saints.
By crafty artless Oratory, they
Vent'ring to make Orations, preach, and pray,
Drew in two silly souls, that were
Caught with vain shews, drawn on by hope and fear,
Poor undiscerning, all believing Elves,
Fit but to be the ruine of themselves;
Born to be
couzen'd, trod on, and abus'd;
Lov'd to be fool'd, and easily seduc'd:
These beasts they make with courage
fight and
dye,
Like
Andabates, not knowing how, nor why,
Till they destroy'd
King, Kingdome, Church, and
Laws,
And sacrificed all to
Molochs Cause:
While those possess the fruit of all the toils
Of these blind slaves, and flourish with their spoils,
Plum'd with gay feathers stoln, (like
Aesops Crow)
They seem gay birds, but it was only show.
Now publique lands and private too, they share
Among
themselves, whose mawes did never spare
Ought they could grasp; to get the
Royal lands,
They in
Bloud Royal bath'd their rav'nous hands.
With which they shortly pamper'd grew, and rich,
Then was their bloud infected with the itch
Of
Pomp, and
Power, and now they must be
Squires,
And
Knights and
Lords, to please their
wives desires,
And
Madam them. A broken
tradesman now,
Piec'd with
Church-L
[...]nds, makes all the
vulgar bow
[Page 345]Unto his honour, and their Bonnets vail
To's worship, that sold Petticoats, or Ale.
In pomp, attire, and every thing they did
Look like true
Gentry, but the
Soul, and
Head,
By which they were discern'd, for they were rude,
With harsh and ill-bred natures still endu'd;
Proud, and penurious. What
Nobility
Sprung in an instant, from all
trades had we!
Such
t' other things, crept into
t' other House,
Whose
Sires heel'd stockings, and whose
Dam
[...] sold sowse.
These were
Protectors, but of such a crew,
As people
Newgate, not good men, and true:
These were
Lord Keepers, but of
Cowes and
Swine,
Lord Coblers, and
Lord Drawers, not of Wine.
Fine
Cockney-pageant Lords, and Lords
Gee-hoo,
Lords
Butchers, and Lords
Butlers, Dray-Lords too.
And to transact with these was hatch'd a brood,
Of
Justices and
Squires, nor great, nor good,
Rays'd out of
plunder, and of
sequestration,
Like
Frogs of
Nilus, from an foundation;
A foundred
Warrier, when the wars did cease,
As nat'rally turn'd
Justice of the
Peace,
And did with boldness th' office undertake,
As a blinde
Coach-horse does a
Stallion make.
These fill'd all
Countreys, and in every
Town
Dwelt one or more to tread your
Subjects down.
And to compleat this
Stratagem of theirs,
They use
Auxiliary Lecturers;
Illiterate
Dolts, pickt out of every Trade,
Of the same metal, as
Jeroboams, made,
That ne'r took
Orders, nor did any keep,
But boldly into others
Pulpits creep,
[Page 346]And vent their
Heresies, and there inspire
The vulgar with
Sedition, who desire
Still to be cheated, and do love to be
Mis-led by th' ears, with couzning
Sophistrie,
These sold
Divinity, as Witches do
In
Lapland, Winds, to drive where e'r you go.
The
Sword no action did, so dire and fell,
But that some
Pulpiteers pronounc'd it,
Well.
With these ingredients, were the Countreys all
Poyson'd, and fool'd, and aw'd, while they did call
Themselves the
Cities, or the
Counties, and
Do in their names, what they ne'r understand
Or hear of. These did that old
Dry-bone call
Up to the
Throne, (if he were call'd at all)
And vow'd to live and dye with him; and then
Address'd to
Dick, and vow'd the same agen.
And so to
Rump; but these vowes were no more
Then what they vow'd to
Essex long before,
And so perform'd; they dy'd alike with all,
Yet liv'd on unconcerned in their fall:
So as these
Corks might swim at top, they ne'r
Car'd what the liquor was, that them did bear.
These taught the
easie people, prone to sin,
And ready to
imbibe ill customes in,
To
betray trusts, to break an
Oath, and
Word,
Things that th' old
English Protestants abhorr'd.
And lest these Kingdoms should hereafter be
Took for
inchanted Islands (where men see
Nothing but
Devils haunt, as if God and
All virtuous people had for sook the land,
And left it to these
Monsters) these took care,
To make us match and mix our bloud with their
Polluted issue; and so do, as when
Gods sons did take the daughters once of men.
[Page 347]To fright men into this, they did begin
To
decimate them, for
Orig'nal Sin.
Children that were unborn, in those mad times,
And unconcern'd in what they
Voted crimes,
If guilty of
Estates, were forc'd to pay
The
tenth to those, who took
nine parts away.
The
Law was made a standing pool, and grew
Corrupt, for want of current; thence a crew
Of monstrous
Animals out daily crawl'd,
Who little knew, but impudently ball'd;
And made the
Law the Eccho of the
Sword,
With such lew'd
Cattel were the
Benches stor'd,
That made the
Gown ridiculous, Now and then
The
Malefactors were the wiser men,
Most times the honester; these did dispence,
And rack the
Laws, 'gainst equity and sence,
Which way the
Buff would have them turn; by which
They long continued
powerful and
Rich.
Now they'l all wheel about, and be for you,
For (like
Camaelions) they still change their hue,
And look like that that's next them; they will vow,
Their hearts were alwaies for you, and are now.
'Tis no new Wit, 'tis in a
Play we know,
Who would not wish you King, now you are so?
Yet you can pardon all, for you have more
Mercy and
love, than they have
crimes, in store.
And you can love, or pity them, which none
But you could do; you can their persons own,
And with unconquer'd patience look on them,
Because your Nature knows not to condemn.
You'll let them live, and by your grace convince
Their treach'rous hearts, that they have wrong'd a Prince,
[Page 348]Whom God and Angels love and keep; whose mind
Solely to love and mercy is inclin'd;
Whom none but such as they would hurt, or grieve,
And none but such as you could e'r forgive
Such men and crimes. Those feathers ne'rtheless
Pluck'd from your Subjects backs, their own to dress,
Should be repluck'd, or else they should restore,
They'll still be left
Crows, as they were before.
But if you trust them,—
And now you are returned to your
Realm,
May you sit long, and stedfastly at th'
Helm,
And rule these head-strong people: may you be
The true
Protector of our
Libertie.
Your
wisdome only answers th' expectation
Of this long injur'd, now reviving Nation.
May true Religion flourish and increase,
And we love virtue, as the ground of peace;
May all pretences, outward forms, and shewes
Whereby we have been gull'd, give way for those
True act of pure religious, and may we
Not only seem religious, but be.
Of taking
Oathes, may you and we be shy,
B
[...]t being ta'ne think no necessity
O
[...] power can make us break them! may we ne'r
Make wilful breach of promises! nor e'r
Basely betray our trusts! but strive to be
Men both of honour, and of honestie!
And may those only that are just, and true,
Be alwa e
[...] honour'd, and imploy'd by you.
Next let our sacred
Laws in which do stand
The
wealth, the
peace, and
safety of our Land,
be kept
inviolable, and never made
Nets to the small, while the great
Flies evade!
[Page 349]May those that are intrusted with them be
Men of sound knowledge, and integrity,
And sober courage; such as dare, and will,
And can do Justice! We have felt what ill
Comes by such
Clarks and
Judges as have been,
For
favour, faction, or
design put in,
Without respect to
Merit, who have made
The Law to
Tyrants various lusts a
Bawd,
Perverted
Justice, and our
Rights have sold,
And
Rulers have been over-rul'd by
Gold:
Then are the people happy, and
Kings too,
When, they that are in power,
are good, and
doe.
On these two
Bases let our peace be built
So firm and lasting, that no
bloud be spilt,
No
Countrey wasted, and no treasure spent
While you and yours do reign; no future rent
Disturb your happiness; but may we strive
Each in his sphere, to make this Nation thrive,
Grow
plentiful, and
pow'rful, and become
The
Joy or
Terror of all
Christendome.
And those, who▪lately thought themselves above us,
May, spite of fate, or
tremble at, or
love us,
May no incroaching spirit break the hedge
Between
Prerogative, and
Priviledge.
And may your sacred
Majesty enjoy
Delights of
Mind, and
Body, that ne'r cloy!
Not only be
obey'd, but
lov'd at home,
Prais'd and
admir'd by all that near you come!
And may your Royal Fame be spread as far
As
valiant, and as
virtuous people are!
And when you're
Majesty shall be inclin'd,
To bless your Realms with heirs, oh may you find
A Spouse that may for
Beauty, Virtue, Wit,
And royal
birth, be for your person fit!
[Page 350]May you abound in hopeful heirs, that may
Govern the Nations, and your
Scepters sway,
Till time shall be no more, and pledges be
Both of your
love, and our
felicity.
May you live long and happily, and find
No pains of body, and no griefs of mind:
While we with loyal hearts Rejoyce, and Sing
God bless your Kingdoms, and
God save our KING.
THE END.
A Catalogue of some Books Printed for H. Brome, at the Gun in Ivie-lane.
DOctor Spark's Devotions on all the Festivals of the year.
The Alliance of Divine Offices, exhibiting all the Liturgies of England since the Reformation, by Hamon L'estrange, Esq in fol.
Justice Revived, or the whole Office of a Countrey Justice, in 8.
The Exact Constable, with his Originals and Power, in the Offices of Church-wardens, Overseers of the Poor, Surveyors, Treasurers, and other Officers, as they are now established by the Laws and Statutes of the Land: both by Edw. Wingate, Esq
Dr. Brown's Sepulchral Urns, and Garden of Cyrus, in 8.
Two Essayes of Love and Marriage, in 12.
The Royal Exchange, a Comedy in 4. And four New Playes in 8. by R. Brome.
A Treatise of Moderation, by Mr. Gaule, in 8.
St. [...]onaventure's Soliloquies, in 4.
Jewes in America, by Mr. Thorogood, in 4.
All Mr. L'Estrange's Pieces against Mr. Bagshaw, and the Presbyterians.
Speeds Husbandry, in 8.
All the Songs, and Poems of the Rump, in 8. from 1640 to 1660.
The Pourtraicture of his sacred Majesty King Charles [Page] the Second, from his birth 1630. till this present year 1661. being the whole story of his escape at Worcester, his travels and troubles.
The Glories and Magnificent Triumphs of the Restitution of King Charles the Second, shewing his Entertainments in Holland, and his passage through London, and the Countrey, comprising all the Honours done to, and conferr'd by him: By James Heath, formerly Student of Ch. Ch. in Oxon.
The Covenant discharged, by John Russel, in 4.
The compleat art of Water-drawing, in 4.
Chisul's Danger of being almost a Christian, in 12.
Aeneas his Voyage from Troy to Italy, an Assay upon the third Book of Virgil, in 8.
The Transtation of the sixth Book of Virgil, 4. both by J. Boys Esq
Mr. Walwin's Sermon on the happy Return of King Charles the second.
Mr. Grenfield's Sermon in behalf of the Loyal party.
Mr. Stone's Sermon at St. Pauls, Octob. 20. 1661. against Rebellion.
Bloud for Bloud, in 35 Tragical stories; the five last being the sad product of our late Rebellion, in 8.
Trap on the Major Prophets, &c. in fol.
A Discourse of all the Imperfections of Women, in 8.
Mr. Morton's Rule of Life, in 8.
A Geographical Dictionary of all the Town [...] and Cities in the World.
The Jovial Crew, or Merry Beggars, by R. Brome, Gent. Salmasius in English.
Holy Authems, sung in all Cathedrals in England.
Schriverius Lexicon Greek and Latin, the fourth Edition much enlarged.
[Page]Eighteen Choice Sermons preacht by Bishop [...]sher in Oxford, in the time of War, in 4.
The Crums of Comfort.
The History of the Bible.
The List of the Loyal Party. And Case.
The Harmony of the World, in 8. in 3. Parts.
The Temple of Wisdom, useful for all persons, being a Magical Discourse, in 8. both by John Heyden, Esq
Flodden-field in 9 Fits; or an Excellent History of the memorable battle fought between the English and Scots in the time of Henry the 8th 1513.
The new Common-Prayer with choice Cuts in Copper, suited to all the Feasts and Fasts of the Church of England throughout the year, in a Pocket-Volume.
Oldsworth's Holy Royallists.
Songs and other Choice Poems, by Mr. Henry Bold, in 8.
Mr. Brome's Songs.