Lady Pecunia, OR The praise of Money.
Also A Combat betwixt Conscience and Couetousnesse.
Togither with, The complaint of Poetry, for the death of Liberality.
Newly corrected and inlarged, by Richard Barnfield, Graduate in Oxford.
Printed by W. I. and are to bee sold by Iohn Hodgets dwelling in Paules Churchyard a little beneath Paules Schoole, 1605.
The Authors first Epistle Dedicatory.
LEd by the swift report of winged Fame,
with siluer trumpet, sounding forth your name
To you I dedicate this merry Muse,
And for my Patron, I your fauour chuse:
She is a Lady, she must be respected:
She is a Queene, she may not be neglected.
This is the shadow, you the substance haue,
Which substance now this shadow seems to craue.
Richard Barnfield.
To the gentlemen Readers.
GEntlemen, being incouraged through your gentle acceptance of my Cynthia, I haue once more ventred on your curtesies: hoping to find you (as I haue done heretofore) friendly. Being determined to writ of something, and yet not resolued of anything, I considered with my selfe, if one should write of Loue (they will say) euerie one writes of Loue: if of vertue, why, who regards vertue; To be short, I could thinke of nothing, but either it was common, or not at all in request. At length I beethoght my selfe of a Subiect, both new (as hauing neuer been written vpon before) and pleasing (as I thought) because Mans Nature commonlye) loues to heare that praised, with whose presence, he is most pleased.
Erasmus (the glory of Netherland, and the refiner of the Latin Tongue) wrote a whole Booke, in the praise of follye. Then if so excellent a Scholler, writ in praise of vanity, why maye not I write in praise of that which is profitable? There are not two Countreys, where Gold is esteemed, lesse than in India, and more then in England: the reason is, because the Indians are barbarous, and our Nation ciuill.
I haue giuen Pecunia the title of a Woman, Both for the termination of the Word, because (as Women are) shee is lou'd of men. The brauest voyages in the World, haue been made for Gold: for it, men haue ventured (by Sea) o the furthest [Page] partes of the earth: In the pursute whereof, Englandes Nestor and Neptune (Hawkins and Drake) lost their liues. vpon the Deaths of the which two, of the first I writ this:
The Waters were his winding Sheete, the Sea was made his Toombe,
Yes for his Fame the Ocean Sea, was not sufficient roome.
Of the latter this:
England his Hart, his Corps the Waters haue,
And that which raisd his Fame, became his graue.
The Praetorians (after the death of Pertinax) in the election of a new Emperour, more esteemed the money of Iulianus, then either the vertue of Seuerus, or the valour of Pessennius. Then of what great estimation, this Lady Pecunia, both hath beene in the world, and is at this present, I leaue to your Iudgement. But what speak I so much of her praise in my Epistle, that haue commended her so at large, in my Booke; To the reading whereof, (Gentlemen) I refer you.
Lady Pecunia. OR The praise of Money.
I Sing not of Angellica the faire,
(For whom the Palladine of Fraunce fel mad)
Nor of sweet Rosamond, old Cliffords heire,
(Whose death did make the second Henry sad)
But of the fairest faire Pecunia,
The famous Queene of rich America.
2
Goddesse of Gold, great Empresse of the Earth,
O thou that canst doo all Thinges vnder Heauen:
That doost conuert the saddest mind to Mirth:
(Of whom the elder age was quite bereauen)
Of thee Ile sing, and in thy Praise Ile write;
You golden Angels helpe me to indite.
3
You, you alone, can make my Muse to speake;
And tell a golden tale, with siluer tongue:
You onely can my pleasing silence breake;
And adde some Musique, to a merry Songue;
But amongst all the fiue, in Musicks Art,
I worst can brooke the Countcr-tenor part.
4
the Meane is best, and that I meane to keepe,
So shall I keepe my selfe from that I meane;
Lest with some Others, I be forc'd to weepe,
And cry Peccaui, in a dolefull Scaene.
But to the matter which I haue in hand,
The Lady Regent, both by Sea and Land.
5
When Saturne liu'd, and wore the Kingly Crowne,
(And Ioue was yet vnborn, but not vnbred)
this Ladies fame was then of no renown;
(For Gold was then, no more esteem'd then Lead)
then truth and Honesty were onely vs'd,
Siluer and Golde were vtterly refus'd.
6
But when the Worlde grew wiser in Conceit,
And saw how men in manners did decline,
How Charitie began to lose her heate,
And One did at anothers good repine,
Then did the Aged, first of all respect her,
And vowd from thence-forth, neuer to reiect her.
7
Thus with the World, her beauty did increase,
And many Suters had she to obtaine her:
Some sought her in the Wars; and some in peace;
But few of youthfull age, could euer gaine her:
Or if they did, she soone was gon againe,
And could with them, but little time remaine.
8
For why against the Nature of her Sexe,
(That commonly despise the feeble Olde)
Shee, loues old men: but yong men she reiects,
Because to her, their Loue is quickly colde:
Oldemen (like Husbands iealous of their Wiues)
Lock her vp fast, and keepe her as their liues.
9
The young man carelesse to maintaine his life,
Neglects her loue (as though he did abhor her)
Like one that hardly doth obtaine a wife,
And when he hath her once, he cares not for her,
Shee, seeing that the yong man doth despise her
Leaues the franke hart, and flyes vnto the miser.
10
He entertaines her, with a ioyfull hart,
And seemes to rue her vndeserued wrong:
And from his presence, she shall neuer part,
Or if she doe, he thinkes her absence long:
And oftentimes he sends for her againe,
Whose life without her, cannot long remaine.
11
And when he hath her, in his owne possession,
He locks her in an yron-barred chest;
And doubting somewhat, of the like Transgression,
He holds that yron-walled Prison best.
And least some Rusty sicknes should infect her,
He often visits her, and doth respect her.
12
As for the yong man (subiect vnto sinne)
No maruell thogh the Diuell doe distresse him;
To tempt mans frailty, which doth neuer linne,
Who many times, hath not a Crosse to blesse him:
But how can he incurre the heauens Cursse,
That hath so many Crosses in his purse?
13
He needs not fear those wicked sprights that walke,
Vnder the couerture of Cole-blacke Night;
For why the Diuell still, a Crosse doth baulke,
Because on it, was hangde the Lord of Light:
But let not Mysers trust to Siluer Crosses,
Least in the end, their gaines be turnd to losses.
14
But what care they, so they may hoord vp golde?
Either for God, or Deuill, or heauen, or hell?
So they may faire Pecuniaes face behold;
And euerie daie, their Mounts of Money tell.
What tho to count their Coine, they neuer blin,
Count they their coin, & counts not god their sin?
15
But what talke I of sinne, to Vsurers?
Or looke for mendment, at a Mysers hand?
Pecunia, hath so many followers,
Bootlesse it is, her Power to withstand.
King Couetise, and warinesse his wife,
The parents were, that first did giue her life.
16
But now vnto her praise I will proceed,
Which is as ample as the world is wide:
What great Contentment doth her presence breed
In him, that can his wealth with Wisdome guide?
Shee is the Soueraine Queene of all Delights:
For her the Lawyer pleads, the Souldier fights.
17
For her, the Merchant ventures on the Seas,
For her, the Scholler studdies at his booke;
For her, the Vsurer (with greater ease)
For silly fishes, layes a siluer hooke;
For her the Townesman leaues the contry vilage
For her the Plowman giues himselfe to Tillage.
18
For her, the Gentleman doth raise his rentes,
For her, the Seruingman attends his mayster:
For her, the curious head new toyes inuents;
For her, to sores, the Surgeon layes his playster.
In fine for her, each man in his Uocation,
Applies himselfe, in euery sev'rall Nation.
19
What can thy hart desire, but thou mayst haue it,
If thou haue readie money to disburse?
Then thanke thy Fortune, that so freely gaue it,
For of all friendes, the surest is thy Pursse.
Friends may proue fals, & leaue thee in thy need
But still thy pursse will be thy friend indeed.
20
Admit thou come into a place vnknowne,
And no man wots of whence, or what thou art:
If once thy fayre Pecunia, she be showne,
Thou art esteemd a man of great Desart:
And placed at the Tables vpper end,
Not for thine owne sake, but thy trusty friende.
21
But if you want your Ladies louely grace,
And haue not wherwithall to pay your shot,
Your Hostis presently will step in Place,
You are a Stranger (Sir) know you not:
By trusting Diuers, I am run in Det;
Therefore of mee, nor meate nor Bed you get.
22
O who can then, expresse the worthie praise,
Which faire Pecunia iustly doth desarue?
That can the meanest man, to Honour raise:
And feed the soule that ready is to starue.
Affection, which was wont to be so pure,
Against his golden Siege, may not endure.
23
Witnesse the Trade of Mercenarie sinne;
(Or Occupation, if you list to tearme it)
Where faire Pecunia must the suite beginne;
(As common-tride Experience doth confirme it)
Not Mercurie himselfe, with siluer Tongue,
Can so inchaunt, as can a golden Songue.
24
When nothing could subdue the Phrygian Troy,
(That Cittie throgh the world so much renowned)
Pecunia did her vtterlie destroy:
And left her fame in darke Obliuion drowned.
And manie Citties since, no lesse in fame,
For Loue of her, haue yeelded to their shame.
25
What thing is then so well belov'd as monie?
It is a speciall comfort to the mind;
More faire then women are, more sweet than honie:
Easie to loose, but verie harde to finde.
In fine, to him, whose purse begins to faint,
Golde is a God, and Siluer is a Saint.
26
The time was once, when Honestie was counted
A Demie-God, and so esteem'd of all:
But now Pecunia on his Seate is mounted;
Since Honestie in great disgrace did fall.
No state, no Calling now, dooth him esteeme;
Nor of the other ill, doeth any deeme.
27
The reason is, because he is so poore:
(And who respects the poore, and needy Creature?)
Still begging of his almes, from Doore to dore;
All ragd, and torne, and eeke deformd in feature.
In countenance so changde, that non can kno him,
So weake that euery vice doth ouerthrow him.
28
But fayre Pecunia, (most diuinely bred)
for sundrie shapes, doth Proteus selfe surpasse,
In one Land, she is suted all in Lead,
And in another, she is clad in Brasse;
But still within the Coast of Albion,
She euer puts her best Apparell on.
29
Siluer and Golde, and nothing else is currant,
In England, in faire Englands happy Land,
All baser sortes of Mettals, haue no Warrant,
Yet secretlie they Slip, from hand to hand.
If any such be tooke, the same is lost,
And presently is nailed on a Post.
30
Which with Quick-siluer, being flourisht ouer,
Seemes to be perfect Siluer, to the show:
As Woemens paintings, their defects doe couer,
Vnder this false attire, so do they go.
If on a wollen Cloth, thou rub the same,
Then wil it straight beginne to blush, for shame.
31
If chafed on thy haire, till it be hot,
If it good Siluer be, the scent is sweet:
If counterfeit, thy chafing hath begot
A ranke-smelt sauour; for a Queene vnmeete:
Pecunia is a Queene, for her Desarts,
And in the Decke, may go for Queene of harts.
32
The Queene of harts, because she rules all harts;
And hath all harts, obedient to her Will:
Whose Bounty, fame vnto the World imparts;
And with her glory, all the World doth fill:
The Queene of Diamonds, she cannot be;
There was but one, Eliza, thou wast shee.
33
And thou wast she, O Sacred Soueraigne;
Whom God did ayde with his Al-mighty hand:
Blessing thy People, with thy peacefull raigne;
And made this little Land a happy Land:
Thy peace on earth begun, in heauen made pure,
There cround with lasting ioy: ô ioy most sure!
34
The time was once, when faire Pecunia, here,
Did basely goe attyred all in Leather:
But in Elizaes raigne, it did appeare,
Most richly clad; in Golde, or Siluer either:
Nor reason is it, that her Golden raigne
With baser Coyne, eclipsed should remaine.
35
And as the Coine shee did repurifie,
From baser substance, to the purrest Mettels:
Religion so, did shee refine beside,
From Papistrie, to truth; which dayly settles
Within the Peoples harts; though some there be,
That cleaue vnto their wonted Papistrie.
36
No flocke of sheepe, but some are still infected:
No peece of Lawne so pure, but hath some fret:
All buildings are not strong, that are errected:
All Plants proue not, that in good ground are set:
Some tares are sown; amongst the choicest seed;
No garden can he cleans'd of euery Weede.
37
But now more Angels then on Earth yet weare
Her golden Impresse; haue to Heauen attended
Hir Virgin-soule; now, now she soiornes there,
Tasting more ioyes then may be comprehended.
Life, she hath changde for life (oh countlesse gaine)
An earthlie rule, for an eternall Raigne.
38
Such a Successor leauing in her stead,
So peerelesse worthie, and so Royall wise;
In him her vertues liue, though she be dead:
Bountie and Zeale, in him both soueranize.
To him aloue, Pecunia doth obay,
He ruling her, that doth all others sway.
39
Bounty, that when she sickned, cras'd and fainted,
And when she left the earth had almost died;
Hoping with her, in heauen to haue bin sainted,
And mongst the rest an Angels place supplyed:
This King hath cherisht, and his life assured,
And of a long consumption, Bounti's cured.
40
Plenty and Peace vpon his Throne attend,
Health and Content, vpon his person wait:
Conquest and Fame, his Royaltie defend,
May all good Planets smile vpon his state.
By whom all-drooping-vertues are reuiued,
And dying-Bounty, made againe long liued.
41
The hand of Heauen still take him to his keeping,
Him, in no danger, in no doubt forsaking;
A thousand of his Angels guarde him sleeping,
And all the hoast of heauen protect him waking.
That he in safety, peace and rest, may raigne,
whilst the two Poles, the frame of heuen sustain
42
But now to her, whose praise is here pretended,
(Diuine Pecunia) fairer then the morne:
Which cannot be sufficientlie commended;
Whose sun-bright Beautie doeth the worlde adorne.
Adorns the world, but speciallie the Pursse;
Without whose presence, nothing can be worse.
43
Not faire Haesione (King Priams sister)
Did euer shew more beautie in her face,
Then can this louelie Lady, if it list her
To shew her selfe; admyr'd for comely grace:
Which neither Age can weare, nor Tyme conclude
For why, her Beautie yearlie is renude.
44
New Coine is yearlie stamped in the Tower,
But these faire daies of ioy, addes alteration:
In faire Elizaes raign, none had that power;
But kingly glorie, clothes her new in fashion,
Ads beautie to her beames, by adding more
Then grayest haires in life, ere saw before.
45
Stand forth who can and tell, and truelie saie
When England, Scotland, Ireland and France,
He euer saw Pecunia to displaie
Before these daies; O wondrous happie chance.
Nor doth Pecunia onelie please the eie,
But charmes the eare, with heauenlie harmony.
46
Like to another Orpheus can she plaie
Vpon her treble Harpe, whose siluer sound
Inchants the eare, and steales the hart awaie,
That hardlie the deceit thereof is found.
Although such Musicke, some a shilling cost,
Yet is it worth but Nine-pence, at the most.
47
But Ireland alone, this Musicks sound
Being clad in Siluer, challenge for their coine,
What though amongst vs much thereof be found,
Authoritie, no subiect dooth inioyne
Aboue his worth to countenance the same,
Then men, not coin, are worthy of that blame.
48
Had I the sweet inchaunting Tongue of Tully,
That charmed the hearers, like the Syrens Song;
Yet could I not discribe the Prayses fully,
Which to Pecunia iustly doth belong,
Let it suffice, her Beauty doeth excell;
whose praise no Pencan paint, no Tongue can tel.
49
Then how shall I describe, with artlesse Pen,
The praise of her, whose prais, al praise surmounteth?
Breeding amazement, in the mindes of men;
Of whom, this present Age so much accounteth.
Varietie of Words, would sooner want,
Then store of plentious matters, would be scant.
50
Whether yee list, to looke into the Citty,
(Where money tempts the poore beholders eye)
Or to the Countrey Townes, deuoyde of Pitty;
(Where to the poore, each place doth almes denie)
All things for money now, are bought and sold,
That either hart can thinke, or eie behold.
51
Nay more for money (as report doth tell)
Thou mayst obtaine a Pardon for thy sinnes:
The Pope of Rome, for mony will it sell;
(Whereby thy soule, no small saluation winnes)
But how can he (of Pride the chiefe Beginner)
Forgiue thy sinnes, that is himselfe a sinner?
52
Then, sith the Pope is subiect vnto sinne,
No maruell tho, diuine Pecunia tempt him,
With her faire beauty; whose good-will to winne,
Each one contends; and shall wee then exempt him.
Did neuer mortall man, yet looke vpon her,
But straight way he became, enamourd on her.
53
Yet would I wish, the Wight that loues her so,
And hath obtain'd, the like good-will againe,
To vse her wisely, lest she proue his foe;
And so, in stead of Pleasure, breed his paine.
She may be kislt; but she may not be clipt,
Lest such delight in bitter gall be dypt.
54
The ioyce of grapes, which is a souerai gne Thing
To cheere the hart, and to reuiue the spirits;
Being vsde imoderatly (in surfetting)
Rather Dispraise, then commendation merits,
Euen so Pecunia, is, as she is vsed:
Good of her selfe, but bad if once abused.
55
With her the Tenant payes the Landlords rent:
On her depends the stay of euery state;
To her, rich Pressents euery day are sent:
In her, it rests to end all dire Debate;
Thrugh her, to wealth, is raisd the Country Boor;
From her, proceeds much profit to the poore.
56
Then how can I sufficiently commend,
her Beuties worth which maks the world to wonder?
Or End her praise, whose praises haue no End?
Whose absence brings the stoutest stomack vnder,
Let it suffice, Pecunia hath no peere,
No wight, no Beauty held more faire, more deere.
FINIS.
The Authors prayer to Pecunia.
GReat Lady, fith I haue compilde thy Praise,
(According to my skill) and not thy merit:
And sought thy Fame aboue the stars to raise,
(Had I sweet Ovids vaine, or Virgils spirit)
I craue no more but this, for my good-will,
That in my Want, thou wilt supply me still.
The Combat betvvixt Conscience and Couetousnesse, in the minde of Man.
NOw had the cole-black steeds, of pitchie Night,
(Breathing out Darknes) banisht cheerfull light,
And sleepe (the shaddow of eternall rest)
My seuerall sences, wholy had possest.
When loe, there was presented to my view,
A vision strange, yet not so strange, as true,
Conscience (me thought) appeared vnto me,
Cloth'd with good Deeds, with truth and Honesty,
Her countenance demure, and sober sad,
Nor any other Ornament she had.
Then Couetousnesse did incounter her,
Clad in a Cassock, like a Vsurer,
The Cassock, it was made of poore men skinnes,
Lac'd here and there, with many seuerall sinnes:
Nor was it furd, with any common fur,
Or if it were himselfe he was the fur.
A Bag of money, in his hand he held,
The which with hungry eie he still beheld.
[Page] The place wherein this vision first began.
(A spacious plaine) was cald The mind of Man.
The Carle no sooner, Conscience had espyde
But swelling like a Toad, (puft vp with pride)
He straight began against her to inuey;
These were the words which Couetise did say.
Conscience (quoth he) how dar'st thou be so bold,
To claime the place, that I by right do hold?
Neither by right, nor might, thou canst obtaine it;
By might (thou knowst ful wel) thou canst not gain it
The greatest Princes are my followars,
The King in Peace, the Captaine in the Wars;
The Courtier, and the simple Countrey-man:
The Iudge, the Merchant, and the Gentleman:
The learned Lawyer, and the Politician:
The skilfulll Surgeon, and the fine Physician;
In briefe all sortes of men me entertaine,
And hold me as their Soules sole Soueraigne,
And in their quarrell they will fight and die,
Rather then I should suffer iniurie.
And as for title, interest, and right,
Ile proue its mine by that as well as might.
[Page] Though Couetousnesse, were vsed long before,
Yet Iudas Treason made my fame the more;
When Christ he caused, crucifide to bee,
For thirtie pence, man solde his mind to me:
And now adaies, what tenure is more free,
Then that which purchas'd is, with Gold and fee?
Conscience.
With patience, haue I heard thy large Complaint,
Wherein the Diuell, would be thought a Saint:
But wot ye what, the Saying is of olde?
One tale is good, vntill anothers tolde.
Truth is the right, that I must stand vpon,
(For other title hath poore Conscience none)
First I will proue it, By Antiquitie,
That thou art but an vp-start, vnto me;
Before that thou wast euer thought vpon
the mind of Man, belongd to me alone.
For after that the Lord had Man Created,
And him in blisse-full Paradice had seated;
(Knowing his Nature was to vice inclynd)
God gaue me vnto man to rule his minde.
[Page] And as it were his Gouernour to bee,
To guide his mind, in Trueth, and Honesty.
And where thou sayst, that man did sell his soule;
That Argument J quicklie can controule:
Jt is a fained fable, thou dost tell,
That, which is not his owne, he cannot sell;
No man can sell his soule, although he thought it:
Mans soule is Christs, for he hath dearely bought it.
Therefore vsurping Couetise, be gone,
For why, the minde belongs to me alone.
Conciousnesse.
Alas poore Conscience, how thou art decay'd?
As though of senses, thou wert quite bereaud.
What wilt thou say (that thinks thou canst not erre)
If J can proue my selfe the ancienter?
Though into Adams mind God did infuse thee,
Before his fall, yet man did neuer vse thee.
What was it else but Auarice in Eue,
(Thinking thereby, in greater Blisse to liue)
That made her tast, of the forbidden fruite?
Ofher Desier, was not I the roote?
[Page] Did she not couet? (tempted by the Diuell)
The Apple of the Tree, of good and euill?
Before that man vsed Conscience, she did couet:
Therefore by her Transgression, here I proue it,
That Couetousnesse possest the mind of man,
Before that any Conscience began.
Conscience.
Euen as a counterfeited precious stone,
Seemes to be far more rich, to looke vpon,
Then doeth the right: But when a man comes neer,
His basenes then, doeth euident appeare,
So Couetise, the Reasons thou dost tell,
Seeme to be strong, but being weighed well.
They are indeed, but onely meere Illusions,
And doe inforce but very weake Conclusions.
When as the Lord (fore-knowing his offence)
Had giuen man a Charge, of Abstinence,
And to refraine, the fruit of good and ill:
Man had a Conscience, to obey his will,
And neuer would be tempted thereunto,
Vntill the Woeman, she, did worke man woe.
[Page] And made him break, the Lords commaundement,
Which all Mankind, did afterward repent:
So that thou seest, thy Argument is vaine,
And I am prov'd, the elder of the twaine.
Conciousnesse.
Fond Wretch, it was not Conscience but feare,
That made the first man (Adam) to forbeare
to tast the fruit, of the forbidden tree,
Lest, if offending he were found to be,
(According as Jehouah saide on hie,
For his so great transgression, he should die.
Feare curbd his minde, it was not Conscience then,
(For Conscience freely, rules the harts of men)
And is a godly motion of the mind,
to euerie vertuous action inclind,
And not enforc'd through feare of Punishment,
But is to vertue voluntary bent:
then (simple trul) be packing presently,
For in this place, there is no roome for thee.
Conscience.
Aye me (distressed Wight) what shall I doe?
Where shall J rest? Or whither shall J goe?
[Page] Vnto the rich? (woes me) they do abhor me:
Vnto the poore? (alas) they, care not for me:
Vnto the Olde-man? hee, hath me forgot:
Vnto the Young-man? yet hee, knowes me not:
Vnto the Prince? hee; can dispence with mee:
Vnto the Magistrate? that, may not be:
Vnto the Court? for it, I am to base:
Vnto the Countrey? there I haue no place:
Vnto the Citty? thence, J am exilde:
Vnto the Village? there I am reuilde:
Vnto the Bar? the Lawyer there is bribed,
Vnto the Warre? there, conscience is derided:
Vnto the temple? there, J am disguised:
vnto the Market: there, I am dispised:
thus both the young and olde, the rich and poore,
against me, silly creature shut theyr doore.
then sith each one seeks my rebuke and shame,
Jle goe again to Heauen, from whence J came,
this said, me thought, making exceeding mone,
She went her way, and left the carle alone,
who vaunting of his late-got victorie,
aduaunc'd himselfe in pompe and Maiestie;
[Page] Much like a Cocke who hauing kild his foe,
bricks vp himselfe and then begins to crow.
So Couetise, when Conscience was departed,
Gan to be proud in mind, and hautie harted:
And in a stately Chaire of state he set him,
(For Conscience banisht) there was none to let him,
And being but one entrie, to this Plaine,
(Whereof as king and Lord, he did remaine)
Repentance cald, he causd that to be kept,
Lest Conscience should returne, whilst as hee slept:
Wherefore he causd it, to be watcht and warded
both night and Daie, and to be strongly guarded:
To keepe it safe, these three he did intreat,
Hardnesse of heart, with Falshood, and Deceat,
And if at anie time, she chaunc'd to venter,
Hardnesse of hart, denid her still to enter.
When Conscience was exilde the minde of Man,
Than Conetise, his gouernment began.
This once being seene, what I had seene before,
(being only seene in sleep, was seene no more,
For with the sorrow, which my Soule did take
At sight hereof, foorth with I did awake.
Finis.
The Complaint of poetry, for the death of Liberality.
1
WEep heuens now, for you haue lost your light,
Ye Sun and Moone, be are witnes of my mone
the cleere is turnd to clouds, the daie to night,
And all my hope, and all my ioie is gone:
bountie is dead, the cause of my annoie:
bountie is dead and with her dide my ioie.
2
O who can comfort my afflicted soule?
Or adde some end to my increasing sorrowes?
VVho can deliuer me from endlesse dole?
VVhich from my hart eternall torment borrowes.)
VVhen bountie liu'd, J bore the bell awaie,
VVhen bountie dide, my credite did decaie.
3
J neuer then, did write on verse in vaine;
Nor euer went my Poems vnregarded:
Then did each Noble breast, me intertaine,
And for my labours J was well rewarded,
But now good wordes, are stept in Bounties place,
Thinking thereby, her glorie to disgrace.
4
But who can liue with words, in these hard times?
(Although they came from Jupiter himselfe?)
Or who can take such Paiment, for his Rimes;
(When nothing now, is so esteem'd as Pelfe)
T is not Good words, that can a man maintaine;
Words are but winde; and wind is all but vaine.
5
Where is Mecoenas, Learnings noble Patron?
(That Maroes Muse, with Bountie so did cherish?)
Or faire Zenobia, that worthy Matron?
(Whose name, for Learnings loue, shal neuer perish)
What tho their Bodies, lie full low in graue,
Their fame the world; their souls the heauens haue.
6
Vile Auaricia, how hast thou inchaunted
The Noble minds, of great and mighty Men?
Or what infernall fury late hath haunted
Their niggard purses? (to the learned pen)
Was it Augustus wealth, or noble minde,
That euerlasting fame, to him assinde.
7
If wealth? Why Croesus was more rich then he;
(Yet Croesus glorie, with his life did end)
It was his Noble minde, that moued mee
To write his praise, and eke his Acts commend
Who ere had heard, of Alexanders fame,
If Quintus Curtius had not pend the same?
8
Then sith by me, their deeds haue beene declared,
(Which else had perisht with their liues decay)
Who to augment their glories, haue not spared
to crowne their browes, with neuer-fading Bay;
What art deserues such liberality,
As doth the peerlesse art of Poetrie?
9
But Liberalitie is dead and gone:
And Auarice Vsurps true bounties seat.
F [...] her it is I make this endlesse mone,
[...]ose prayses worth no pen can well repeat)
Sweet Liberality adiew for euer,
For Poetrie againe shall see thee neuer.
10
Neuer againe, shall J thy presence see:
Neuer againe, shall I thy bountie tast,
Neuer againe, shall J accepted be:
Neuer againe, shall I be so embrac't.
Neuer againe, shall J the bad recall:
Neuer againe, shall I belou'd of all.
11
Thou wast the Nurse, whose Bounty gaue me sucke,
Thou wast the Sun, whose beames did lend me light:
Thou wast the tree, whose fruit J still did plucke:
thou wast the Patron, to maintaine my right
through thee J liu'd; on thee I did relie;
[...]a thee J ioy'd: and now for thee I die.
12
What man, hath lately lost a faithfull friend?
Or Husband, is depriued of his Wife?
But doth his after-daies in dolour spend?
(Leading a loathsome, discontented life?
Dearer then friend, or wife haue I forgone?
then maruell not although I make such mone.
13
Faire Philomela, cease thy sad complaint;
And lend thine eares, vnto my dolefull Dittie:
(Whose soule with sorrow, now begins to faint,
And yet J cannot moue mens hartes to pittie:)
thy woes are light, compared vnto mine:
You watrie Nimphes, to me your plaints resigne.
14
and thou Melpomene, (the Muse of Death)
that neuer sing'st, but in a dolefull straine;
Sith cruell Destinie hath stopt her breath,
(Who whil'st she liu'd, was Vertues Soueraigne)
Leaue He [...]on, (whose Bankes so pleasant be
and beare a part of sorrow now with mee.
15
the trees (for sorrow) shead their fading Leaues,
And weepe out gum, in stead of other teares;
Comfort nor ioy, no Creature now conceiues,
to chirp and sing, each little bird forbears.
the sillie Sheepe, hangs down her drooping head,
and all because, that bounty she is dead.
16
the greater that I feele my griefe to be,
the lesser able, am J to expresse it;
Such is the Nature of extremity,
the heart it som-thing eases, to confesse it.
therefore Jle wake my muse, amidst her sleeping,
and what I want with words, supplie with weeping.
17
Weepe still mine eies, a Riuer full of tears,
to drowne my Sorrow in, that so molests me;
and rid my head of cares: my thoughts of fears:
Exiling sweet Content, that so detests me.
But ah (alas) my teares are almost dun.
and yet my griefe, it is but new begun.
18
Euen as the Sunne, when as it leaues our sight,
Doth shine with those Antipodes, beneath vs:
Lending the other world her glorious light,
And dismall Darknesse, onely doeth bequeath vs:
Euen so sweet Bountie, seeming dead to me,
Liues now to none, but smooth-Tongd Flatterie.
19
O Adulation, Canker-worme of Truth;
The flattering Glasse of Pride, and Self-conceit,
(Making olde wrinkled Age, appeare like youth)
Dissimulations Maske, and follies Beate.
Pitty it is, that thou art so rewarded,
Whilst Truth and Honestie, goe vnregarded.
20
O that Nobility, itselfe should staine,
In being bountifull, to such vile Creatures,
Who, when they flatter most, then most they faine:
Knowing what humour best, will fit there Natures.
What man so mad, that knowes himselfe but poore.
And will beleeue that he hath riches store,
21
Vpon a time the craftie Foxe did flatter
The foolish pie (whose mouth was full of meat)
The Pye beleeuing him, began to chatter,
And sing for ioy, (not hauing list to eate)
And whil'st the foolish Pye, her meate let fall,
The craftie Foxe, did runne a waie with all.
22
Terence describeth vnder Gnatoes name,
The right conditions of a Parasyte:
(And with such Eloquence, sets forth the same,
As doeth the learned Reader much delight)
Shewing, that such a Sicophant as Gnato,
Js more esteem'd, then twentie such as Plato.
23
Bountie looke back, vpon thy goods mispent:
And thinke how ill, thou hast bestowd thy mony:
Consider not their words, but their intent:
Their harts are gal, although their toongs be hony:
They speake not as they think, but all is fained,
And onely to th'intent to be maintained.
24
And herein happie, I areade the poore;
No flattering Spaniels, fawne on them for meate:
The reason is, because the Countrey Boore
Hath little inough for himselfe to eate:
No man will flatter him, except himselfe:
And why? because he hath no store of wealth.
25
But sure it is not Liberality
That doth reward these fawning smel-feasts so:
Jt is the vice of Prodigalitie,
That doth the the banks of Bountie ouerflo.
Bountie is dead, yea so it needs must be,
Or if aliue, yet is she dead to me.
26
Therefore as one, whose friend is latelie dead,
J will bewaile the death of my late friend,
Vpon whose tomb ten thousand teares ile shed,
Till drearie Death, of me shall make an end:
Or if she want a Toomb, to her desart,
On then, ile bury her within my hart.
27
But (Bounty) if thou loue a Tombe of stone,
Oh then seeke out, a hard and stonie hart,
For were mine so, yet would it melt with mone,
And all because that J with thee must part.
Then if a stonie hart must thee interr,
Goe finde a Step-dame, or a Vsurer.
28
And sith there dies no Wight, of great account,
But hath an Epitaph compos'd by mee,
Bounty, that did all other far surmount,
Vpon her Tombe, this Epitaph shall be:
Here lies the Wight, that Learning did maintaine,
And at the last, by Auarice was slaine.
29
Vile Auarice, why hast thou kild my Deare?
And robd the world, of such a worthy Treasure,
In whom no spark of goodnesse doth appeare,
So greedie is thy mind, without all measure.
Thy death, from Death did merit to release her,
The Murtherers deseru'd to die, not Caesar.
30
The Merchants wife; and Tender-harted Mother:
That leaues her Loue; whose Sonneis prest for war:
(Resting the one; as woefull as the other)
Hopes yet at length, when euded is the iarre;
To see her Husband; see her Son againe:
"wer it not then for Hope, the hart were slaine.
31
But I, whose hope is turned to despaire,
Nere looke to see my dearest Deare againe;
Then Pleasure sit thou downe, in Sorrowes Chaire,
And for a while thy wonted Mirth refraine.
Bounty is dead, that whylome was my Treasure:
Bounty is dead, my ioy and onely pleasure.
32
If Pythias death, of Damon were bewailed;
Or Pillades did rue, Orestes end:
If Hercules, for Hylas losse were quailed:
Or Theseus, for Pyrithous Teares did spend:
then doe J mourne for Bounty, being dead:
Who liuing, was my hand, my hart, my head.
33
My hand, to helpe me, in my greatest need:
My hart, to comfort me, in my distresse:
My head, whom only J obeyd, indeed:
If she were such, how can my griefe be lesse?
Perhaps my words, may perce the parcae's eares:
Jf not with words, Jle moue them with my teares.
34
But ah (alas) my Teares are spent in vaine,
(For she is dead, and J am left aliue)
Teares cannot call, sweet Bountie back againe:
Then why doe I, against Fate and Fortune striue?
And for her death, thus weep lament and crie,
Sith euerie mortall wight, is borne to die.
35
But as the wofull mother doeth lament,
Her tender babe with cruell Death opprest:
Whose life was spotlesse, pure, and innocent,
(And therefore sure, it soule is gone to rest)
So Bountie, which her selfe did vpright keepe,
Yet for her losse, loue cannot chuse but weepe.
36
The losse of her, is losse to manie a one:
The losse of her, is losse vnto the poore;
And therefore not a losse, to me alone,
But vnto such, as goe from Doore to Doore.
Her losse, is losse vnto the fatherlesse:
And vnto all, that are in great distresse.
37
The maimed Souldier, comming from the war:
The woefull wight, whose house was lately burnd:
the sillie soule: the wofull trauelar:
And all, whom Fortune at her feet hath spurnd:
Lament the losse of Liberalitie:
"Its ease, to haue in griefe some Companie.
38
the Wife of Hector (sad Andromache)
Did not bewaile, her husbands death alone:
But (sith he was the troians onely stey)
the wiues of troy (for him) made aequall mone.
Shee, shead the teares of Loue; and they of pitty:
She, for her deare dead Lord; they, for their Citty.
39
Nor is the Death of Liberalitie,
(Although my griefe be greater than the rest)
Onely lamented and bewaild of me;
(And yet of me, she was beloued best)
But, sith she was so bountifull to all,
She is lamented, both of great and small.
40
O that my Teares could moue the powres diuine.
That Bounty might be called from the dead:
As Pitty pierc'd the hart of Proserpine:
Who moued with the Teares Admetus shed)
Did send him backe againe, his louing Wife;
Who lost her owne, to saue her husbands life.
41
Jmpartiall Parcae, will no prayrs moue you?
Can Creatures so diuine, haue stonie harts?
Haplesse are they, whose hap it is to proue you,
For you respect no Creatures good Desarts.
O Atropos, (the crueldst of the three)
Why hast thou tane, my faithfull friend from me?
42
But ah, she cannot (or she will not) heare me,
Or if she doo, yet may not she repent her:
then com (sweet death) O why dost thou for bear me
Aye me! thy Dart is blunt, it will not enter.
Oh now J know the cause, and reason why;
I am immortall, and I cannot die.
43
So Cytherae a would haue dide, but could not;
When faire Adonis by her side lay slaine:
So I desire the Sisters, what J should not;
For why (alas) J wish for Death in vaine;
Death is their seruant, and obeys their will;
And if they bid him spare, he cannot kill.
44
Oh would I were, as other Creatures are;
Then would I die, and so my griefe were ended:
But Death (against my will) my life doeth spare;
(So little with the fates I am befrended)
Sith, when J would, thou doost my sute denie,
Vile Tyrant, when thou wilt I will not die.
45
And Bounty, though her body thou hast slaine,
Yet shall her memorie remaine for euer:
For euer, shall her memorie remaine;
Whereof no spitefull Fortune can bereaue her.
Then Sorrow cease, and wipe thy weeping eie;
For Fame shall liue, when al the world shal die.
A Comparison of the Life of Man.
MAns life is well compared to a feast,
Furnisht with choice of all Variety:
To it comes time; and as a bidden guest
He sits him downe, in Pompe and Maiesty.
The three fold age of Man, the Waiters be:
Then with a earthen voyder (made of clay)
Comes Death, and takes the table cleane away.
Finis.
A Remembrance of some English Poets.
LIue Spenser euer, in thy Fairy Queene:
Whose like (for deepe Conceit) was neuer seene.
Crownd mayst thou be, vnto thy more renowne,
(As King of Poets) with a Lawrell Crowne.
And Daniell, praised for thy sweet-chast verse:
Whose Fame is grav'd on Rosamonds blacke Herse.
Still mayst thou liue: and still be honoured,
For that rare worke, The White Rose and the Red.
And Drayton, whose well-written Tragedies,
And sweet Epistles, soare thy fame to skies.
Thy learned Name, is equall with the rest;
Whose stately Numbers are so well addrest.
And Shakespeare, thou, whose hony flowing vaine,
(Pleasing the World) thy Praises doth containe.
Whose venus, and whose Lucrece (sweet, and chast)
Thy Name in fames immortall Booke haue plac't.
Liue euer you, at least in Fame liue euer:
Well may the Body die, but Fame die neuer.
Finis.