The minte of deformities

The minte of deformities

Table of contents

Title page

To the gentle Perusers of my vnpolisht Primitiae,

§

To the woorshipfull my very louing Cosen M. Thomas Rickarde of Hatfield-chase, in Yorkeshire.

To the fauorable readers.

§

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No Thrasion harpe, but a steeld surious whippe,

no Nightingales, but Mandrakes shreeking sound,

Adastors snakes to make these Thrasors skippe:

whose cages, vultures, limewands, to confound:

the reeking limits of an vnstayd head,

with aspish toyes to bring greene wits to bed.

Oh I am mad to see the chopping stile,

and cheating slaueries of these mustie dayes,

The woordes of arte (yet artlesse which beguile)

deepe diuing vathrifts of their honest prayes,

yet not their owne, for one short yeere wil boord

what their progenitors did fortie hoord,

Vertues-decayed-world is out of vse,

and honest trading mindes are cleane extinct,

Downe goes all vertuous meanes, set vp a stuise:

a broking brothell is delicious drinke:

a broker (quoth you) oh tis an honest trade,

twill be defended who so ere gaynesayd.

Grose swalowing termes disdayne a brokers name,

which doth support base drudging vnderlings,

Whose silken robes varnish their bastard shame:

and foggie clowring-birth-enamilingsh.

whose statling-twelue-pence makes the shine as bright,

as Cynthias beames in a storme-wintring night.

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Whose maistring termes lies in their sattan ragges,

a purchast shift will make them gentlemen,

Though not a peny in their woorships bagges,

yet are they noblier borne then better men:

their suits will guild their gentrie, and the rather,

the diuell is become their godfather.

I knewe a Piper in a silken coate,

so farre inamord of his peacockes plumbes,

That needes his paynted picture must afloate,

or els his gentle minde with griefe consumes:

who drewe it but his father? fie fond man,

to name his father, hees a gentleman.

I woonder (Orpheus) thou didst neere commence?

thou couldst haue plaid foure organs roundelaies,

And yet thou neuer hadst preheminence?

though thou surpassedst in astonisht brayes.

Now by the Trenitie twas not welldone,

to make a gentleman a paynters sonne.

But who more proud then beggers mounted hie,

Whose three yeeres gentry from a brokers shoppe,

Will proue his stenching-silke stampt pedigree,

from C. sol. fay. vt. or an organes stoppe.

beware, beware, the knauish beadle waytes,

to beare you to the consistorie states.

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A Taylers sheares clips of this brokers shape,

a perfumd-crosseleged-rare-artificiall,

Whose gentrie's paynted in a womans cape,

a gentleman? why its common vn o all,

he takes part with thē both, therfor't must follow

he hath a broking vayne, a singing swallow.

If any enuious disalowing tongue,

seeke to depresse this auncient customdvse,

Which with the downfalne Adam first begun,

I craue the single combate for his abuse,

our armes shal soone decide that doubt, & then

Taylors I hope are no meane gentlemen.

In azure rampant sticks a payre of sheares,

our coate (out of a thousand) one weele sorte,

A spanish needle pendant, and that beares

our crest, which is our ornamentall port:

a bodkin iacent with a lowse doth hould,

makes our impression in honors mould.

Our tongues we shape not to each common crie,

we keepe our residence, stirre at no call:

We vse no what do you lackes, what ist you buy?

but sit securely on our shopboord stall:

nobles attend vs for our iudgements, then

who will denie vs to be gentlemen.

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Become our harrold (gentle mayster scribe)

enormous pens we hate, and rustie boasts,

Blase our antiquitie? and for a bribe

feare not: weele fee you to the vttermost,

here take this veluet romnant what you neede,

our vnderboording box supplies with speede.

Our persumes smell not like the slauering crewe,

of middy take paynes, or such vnsauory sway,

Our garments vndisfigured and new:

Vnlike December florishing as May.

our hamering heads tir'd with inuention,

scorne base vpbrayding reprehension.

A codpeece breech cleane out of fashion,

a swim-swamd flapping-lagging ore the knee,

A cost-deuised-admiration.

Is vsed of all: oh spightfull forgerie.

when God fayre fashion'd partes, vnfashioning,

they both deforme those gratious parts, & him.

O that young heads should haue such slender wit,

to yeeld their humors to these odious baites,

Their carelesse moodes wayes nought, but more fit

and new stampt fashions their vndoing waites,

what strange deformes lurkes in these motions,

must needes be stamped in their fashions.

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Vnfit conceipts shipt from the Persians,

all christians hating Pagan fantasies,

Remote attires of the Graesians,

are enterteynd as solemne cerimonies,

Persians, Turckes, Graesians, all fashions I beleeue,

are safe compiled in one English sleeue.

Let one attire creepe in our heads to day,

to morrow twill be common, odious,

It must be single or it beares no swaye,

if two possesseit oh tis scripulous,

some strange-imaginarie shape alone,

must fit my humor, or I will haue none.

To day like a French gaiboile, round and flat,

to morrow like a Spaniard, naught but britch,

Then in the strange Italian natiue plat,

then in the whotte Barbarians swelting pitch,

that I doe wonder that in London trades,

like Kit chinstuffe (what fashiōs haue you maides.

I know a trifling student three houres space,

contriuing in what forme to make his shooe,

First he would haue it square, with a pinkt race,

then round, then streight, at length all would not doe,

at last he found a fashion pleasd him most,

but wanted money to defray the cost.

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What must he doe? his wants must be supplyed,

the ordinary shapes dislikt his minde,

Money he wanted, but what ere betide,

he must haue that with labor he did finde,

but at the last, when the best meanes were scand,

he brooke the shop, & for those shooes was hangd.

Tis strange to see the nature of our clime,

our fashion-mongers passe all other worlds,

The close-reseruing orders of strange times,

are in contempt all into England hurld,

that neither Spaniard, Duch, Polonian,

can be disstinguisht from an Englishman.

Each Countrie keepes his natiue fashion,

same England, which doth reuell with them all,

No method in his attired function,

will make his pampered ioynts vnbestiall:

a straite Polon sleeue, large Italian scerting,

a Spanish belly close, and a French wing.

A right Camelions, no perfect Iosephs shape

what God made perfect, that they will amend,

There lewd opinions prisd at a higher rate,

then their owne goodnes, or good finisht ende,

inuenting trifles now keepe such a quoile,

what God made good, they making better spoile.

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Babels new built, confusion rules the toung.

their racked wits aspire to lothsome crimes,

Sodoms foundation is a fresh begunne,

to make our falls warnings to after times,

oh this inhumaine fault's propitious,

portending wracte vnto our weale and vs.

What doe these cutting sutes portend but shame,

ensinges to bawdie tauerne-boulsteres,

The stayned mapp of a loose gouernd name,

and swaggering crew of hatefull chauilers,

whose onely grace is blurd in periurie,

with mouthing othes to blase there infamie.

Skimd superficies of this crew is ripe,

and riper would be, but for Tiburns rod:

The saint they worship a Tobacco pipe,

and their bedawbed loosenes is their God,

yet let me giue this counsell to that ward,

that maister Tiburne capers very hard.

One snurts Tobacco as his nose were made,

a perfumd Iakes for all scurrilities,

Another with his haire (as if a iayde,

had lost his tayle to feede his enormities,

hanges ore his shoulders with a fond deuise,

to make a warmer couert for the lice.

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An other slaue which long time hath beene chaind,

and got an eare-stamp for his filching trayde,

To clowde this shame, a Iewell must be hangd,

at the same hole the burning iron made,

who then dare call him rogue, who seemes to sauor,

the vndeserued blisse of his misti is fauor.

If iewellings obscure such fowle disgrace,

and will eclipse the lawes due punishment,

Who will not leade this iolly swaggering race,

to be inthrald in the worlds blandishment,

but (gentle Roister) bridle your iolly scope,

or els the next degree will be a rope-

The next that marcheth in this cutting crewe,

noble Dicke Swash, with sworde and buckler othes,

He sweares the Spaniards his braue valure knew,

and sayes his terrifieng frights them most:

oh how he lies? for ile besworne that Dicke,

nere tooke a pray, vnlesse a hedging trick.

Oh infamie vnto a souldiers name,

oh scandall to our predecessing worth,

Thy death shall burie this disgrace and shame,

and rue thou shalt the houre of thy birth,

but (signior Bragadino) aduise you better,

a slitting coller is a plaguie debter.

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Tut he is well inough aduised of that,

if without companie he be alone,

He will not draw to hurt a man, thats flat:

what he a quarriler? tut heele saue one.

but it a tauerne crew together meete,

heele be the first to drawe, but last to feight.

Where hath he not beene where Belona swayes,

in the Low countries, there his name's known best,

In Britanie and Gascoine many dayes,

and gaynst the Turkes his seruice hath beene prest:

all these renowned countries did he skip,

when scarce he knowes the inside of a ship.

Yet will he roundly tell the honored names,

of the cheefe leaders, wher's their regiment,

Their worthes ceclipse his vndesiphered shames,

perfume his base thoughts to an ornament,

his victories are registerd in the booke,

whē I dare sweare he knowes no enimies looke.

Then with his ruby-pumpeld-wine-fir'd snout,

a quaffing health must to his captayne flye:

He that denies the acceptance in the route,

his valure-hating poniard makes him dye,

their villanous attempts may well be sayd,

that Chaueleiring-murtherings growne a trayd.

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Iudgment they feare, God neuer comes in minde,

if iustice frowning-guerdon were not death,

Then good mens hauokes, their pursuing kinde,

would by their hating-goodnesse clip their breath,

and hell, rape crueltie, would beare such sway,

that good-reformed mindes should quite decay.

It that a man denie to quaffe his scoure,

or would leaue off before he be starke drunke,

Nay if he will not drinke so many houres,

after his braynlesse sence to sicknesse sunke:

then streight they vow mutuall coniunction,

he dyes a foe to a belching fraternion.

When grosepate chaplaines of deuouring sinne,

doe channel their lewd corps with scandold shame,

And steeles the broken issue of there skinne,

whose ouerweining loosenes racks his name,

then is he mad, and to this Marshall crewe,

will make coniunction with his Priestlike hew.

If any man will drinke till be dead,

Lincolne black pots wil crie Amen to it,

A christian-seiming soe will make him sweate,

with Lees of drunken homiles scoures his wit,

whose text doth fume out of a smoking toast,

lining his belching crast in a good seimd boast.

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But tis no maruell, when all trades are done,

the onely refuge is to be a priest,

When all prophaned vice, and murthers scumme,

maskt in those honored robes are counted blest,

But I would wish this Marshal keep his daughter

least that a wraying song procure his slaughter.

There was a certayne vnreformed straine,

And base corrupted-broking of a place,

Crept in the head of an vnhallowed braine,

Where he securely might obscure his race:

ah Nicholl, Nicholl, that a quóistring roome,

should be subiected to a bloodie scumme,

But where gould stamps, there vertue fals aboord,

he that out biddes, merites the highest scailes,

Fiue trades will driue one back, (though nere so good)

and shag-rackt-wits though golden force preuailes,

fiue places, when fiue houses he doth master,

and to each one three, Scullion, Collier, Baker.

When he doth preach, not gainst, but on good ale,

whē he doth storme, not gainst, but on good soules,

He not against, but on precise doth rayle,

still his (against) is fixed on goodnesse moulds,

he enuies good, yet seemes not such a one,

this is a church-like epigramation.

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He readeth much, and yet he cannot see,

he studies much, and yet he cannot speake,

He gayneth much, yet all by periurie,

he sweareth much, tut thats a sillie cheake:

he reads on Angell letters, studies euill,

his brocage gayne corrupts, sweares like a diuell,

Many may aske who this damn'd slaue may be,

And may by great inquire finde his name,

Rather seeke vertue then impietie?

Seeke not too much, too soone coms lothsom shame

HANG-LET this Marshall, hate his deformed euill,

And thou expelst him, & in him the diuell.

Let not the feind maske safe in Samuels robes,

Let not the pulpet-hater, and Gods woord,

Let no prophaner Gods sacred Temple robbe,

Let no bloodthirstie slaue with fury spurd,

to triumph or the silly-cheated flocke,

by such an vntaught-domineiring blocke.

Hees an Idolator indubitate,

for like a carued image nere remoues,

vnlesse a sutors goulden fees do prate,

a goulden eloquence is all he loues:

many good Angels doth he stand possest,

and yet one deuill thinks his part is best.

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Oh that a seruant (as he thinkes him selfe)

should for preferment) good-corruptings slaue)

Disgrace his maister for a little pelse,

dash of the blessed light, and darknes craue,

and though that God offer such gratious proffers,

he wayes them not, so he may fill his coffers.

He reads Gods word (yet thinkes there is no God)

he serues the diuell (as his vnknowne friend),

And though his priuate-lurching harts abode,

be fixed at home, on his sinne swallowing ende,

yet are his heauen-heaud eyes with such a grace

though God, & his own thoughts, forswere the place.

Looke to thy children, and reforme thy race,

the time yet serues, be not too obstinate,

Refrayne thy lewd pathes in this time of grace,

with true contrition: be not obdurate.

now is the sauing time to make thee blest,

and dye thou mayest a saint, who liued a beast.

If that a spleening minde, and storming race,

should countermure my furious swelling brayne,

And with a wounding ire bedawbe my face,

to make my pen depaint thy mischeiues vaine,

twould make thee swere in a reuenging fire,

whole do it as well, as any in Linconshire,

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Oh that grosse pates whose reasons stampt in sinne,

should fetter goodnes with vncurbed shame,

With vnresisted yeelding to let in,

the shamefull shew of a loose gouernd name,

this therefore shall remayne my last aduice,

loue faire incountred vertue, and hate vice.

Roome, roome, my maisters, for a lethern pelt,

tapster six pots? here Tom, hers three for thee,

Since thou hast challengd me, ile make my belt,

breake out her bounds ere we part company.

charge & discharge (for weele drink for the heauens,)

till one or both purchase the feeld vneuen.

A health to my mistris (downe on thy maribones)

oh prophand name common in euery mouth,

Who would erect good phrases, when such ones

as Coblers, tapsters, waterbearers route,

who with their rotten-lisping-stumpes vnsould,

what gentlemen for their due customes hould.

Each rustie sect of base artificers,

will rob their base hides with the brauest showe,

And pitch their pleasures seate as high, as theirs,

who triumph in the cost-fantastick hew:

for their presumptions this aledge they can,

when Adam digd who was a gentleman.

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Poore-tankard-slaues? who think them selues as great,

whose prest-downe-backes continuall weight inures,

Whose grunting labour, for a peny sweats,

whose halfe houres toile one moment but indures.

yet do they in as sweete contentment rest,

and spend and drinke Tobacco with the best.

Let a new fashion once come starting in,

they with an open sent deuoure the pray,

Their ragged ioynts though freese, whose open skinne,

feeles no could-icy stormes in winters dayes,

they retchlesse stand so they may haue ther swaie,

though their benummed corps with could decay.

The land Lord with a base deienerate shifte,

to paint his carcasse rackes his tenants rent,

Sinke in their downfall, (so he get a lift)

he wayes not their vndoing languishment,

their backes be gaye, their minds though lothsome be,

silke robes dismember hospitalitie.

A lasse who nameth hospitalitie,

hees banisht for returning to our clime,

When hospitali's scorne desteind penurie,

and egent cripples swagger with the time;

this worlds faire-countred vice is so alowd,

base beggers lustie, stearne controwlers prowd.

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Now lustfull youth with a bard swelting crye,

pursues his eager-burning-fire of lust,

Fostring his held fast clogge of crueltie,

to gayne a remnant-limit, which he must,

needs circumuent, for whosoere denies,

his wrath will butcher, parents or dearest allies

If that his minde stand to a lothsome soule,

whose dowrie's but an ounce of durtines,

His base-ingendred minde without comptrowle,

must shrowd impression of his beastlines.

or els grace-hating vice will clip him shorte,

intoumbing sage aduice, which should dehorte,

When shallow purchase of a broken stile,

shall shipp a shifting name to worthines,

Whose sensuall mischeifes rubisht with a file,

of fond-vaine glorie, hides his scuruines,

what must this sensuall affectation yeeld,

when vertue hateth shame, shame wins the field.

What hath he got, a Moore, his mind's content,

what hath he wonne, a whore, his humor's pleased,

What hath he lost, his parents, twas his consent,

whome did he hate, his friends, his hart is eased,

let his deep-swallowing sins think of this cheare,

doomes day will come, & then his woes appeare.

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Our youthfull mindes, is like a poysoned glasse,

which being broken by some casuall meanes,

A stander by (which fayne would bring to passe

reiunction of the losse: those poysned streames,

impartiall eyther to his foe or friend,

wil woork his senceles baine which sought amēd.

Let vs beware least that our customd sinne,

which the true gospell long hath couered,

Be not erepted, and our shame beginne.

to staine our mindes, (which long hath houered)

and Gods iust frowne on our lewd corps be seene

taking the gospell, and our gratious Queene.

FINIS.

§

§

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THE MINTE of deformities

G S

Imprinted at London for William Iones dwelling neere Holburne Conduit at the Signe of the Gunne. 1600.

To the gentle Perusers of my vnpolisht Primitiae,

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THe neuer vewing warehouse of conceipt,

like (ould Silenus asse) would faine repeate,

Vnto the open world, darke ignorance,

Making it glowe with harsh intellegence,

You shall not surfet on the guilded crummes,

which with vncapable conceipts begunne,

Making the world beleeue their high pitcht vaine,

renowmed eloquence admired straine,

With sounding tearmes to cracke the open vault,

of vnconceiued labors, and to walke,

The statly round of all sought loftinesse,

daining fayre entrance to each common meaness,

This doe I hate, all men may me conceiue,

I seeke to please, and not your wits beicaue.

To the woorshipfull my very louing Cosen M. Thomas Rickarde of Hatfield-chase, in Yorkeshire.

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GOod cosen, not any desert of mine owne woorth, but hoping to be countenanced by your woorthines, maketh me thus bould to relye on your acceptance of this idle woorke, compounded (as the French nod) of sundry fashions, a thing (which if it proue pleasing to you in the least respect) I shall thinke it valuable to my cost and labour: I doe not doubt but as alwayes you haue looued me, so you will not now reiect this instance of my zealous affection which I haue had from my cradle to gratifie you, protesting (if you wil boulster me in this) neuer to step so farre into the presse agayne, and thus withall respectiue ceremonies I take my leaue.

Your louing Cosen C. G. Gent.

To the fauorable readers.

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GEntlemen) I do not immitate the new start vp fashion of writings in these dayes, who so obscurely will beginne, and so duskely end, as it will both straine their owne conceipt, & the perusers knowledge, for a man to write that which none shall conceiue but himselfe, is to make a laborinth to catch euery idle br ayne in: that which I doe, I doe to please, which must be by vnderstanding: I do not seeke to take flies, but to remoue fleas, which as I would not troble my selfe with the one, so I would willingly reduce the other. Our countries good, the vnfit education of base mindes, the arrogancie of Peasants, the pride of paynters, (like Don Hiltonio knaue of the Trenitie) prouoke my vnpolish stumbling pen, to exasperate the vndecentnesse of their nurture, and vnfitnesse of my owne nature. If any scorne my labour, he doth me no wrong, because I looked for no other, yet I hope true gentles, will gently conceiue some better hope of better fruite from so vnripened a blossome, my industrie and toyle with my self, I humbly subiect to euery mans censure, crauing none to be earnest to know him, who will not acknowledge them, or hardly himselfe.

Information about this book

Title statement

The minte of deformities

C. G., Gent.

Edition statement

1600

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A01369

ID [STC]

STC 11491

ID [STC]

ESTC S105723

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99841449

ID [PROQUEST]

99841449

ID [VID]

6034

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Early English books online.

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A01369)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 6034)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 294:05)

Source

— The minte of deformities, C. G., Gent..

Extent

[24] p.

[By G. Simson] for VVillyam Iones dwelling neere Holburne Conduite at the signe of the Gunne,. Imprinted at London :: 1600.. (Dedication, C3v, signed: C.G. Gent.) (A satire in verse.) (Printer's name from STC.) (Signatures: A-C⁴.) (The last leaf contains "To the fauorable readers".) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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