AVLVS PERSIVS FLACCVS HIS SATIRES TRANSLA­TED INTO ENGLISH, BY BARTEN HOLYDAY Mr of Arts, and Student of Christ-Church in Oxford.

Hinc trahe que dicas, mensam (que) relinque Mycenis
Cum capite & pedibus —

The second Impression.

[printer's or publisher's device]

AT OXFORD, Printed By Ioseph Barnes, Printer to the Vniversitie, 1616.

TO THE READER.

IVdicious Reader (for to Thee as to a Iust Patrone, I make my De­dication) with the true stingenui­ty I submit these my endeavours, the not vnprofitable recreations only of severer studies. To ex­site thy attention, I may without ambition say it [...]s a New thing, Persius Vnderstood. When first entertained the attempt, I was opposed by see­ [...]ing-insuperable difficulties: The labouring to [...]pprehend, to Expresse the sense of my Author: [...]he reconciling of contrarie exposition [...]: the fin­ [...]ng out the order of his passages, grounded on a [...]aturall, but much concealed dependancy of his [...]ecedent and subsequent matter: the endeavo­ [...]ng to render him with brevity, perspicuity and [...]s Owne Strength: Lastly the amputation of [...]necessarie Criticismes of some Interpreters, [...]om whom on just reason I sometimes depart.

And that in this point I may stand cleare from [...]e private surmise of some tacite censurer: I will [Page] shew vnto thee, among many, two only of their curiosities, and those in the front of the worke.

The first is about the word Prolui, which some would haue to be heere vsed, to signifie that the Poet had modestly wet his lippes in Hippocrene, but never endrench'd them, or dranke deep ther­of. I graunt that the word in the originall Can beare that sense; but that it doth in This place, I confidently denie. And stand confirmed by this reason: because the Poet satirically Derideth those, that attributed the faculty of poetric to so insufficient and vaine a cause, as the drinking of that Well was. (He himselfe afterwards confes­sing, ironically, his Owne skill to be Constrai­ned: howsoever, not proceeding from so Fond a cause;) and therefore in the like sort presently af­ter, he saith (if the Critiques had observed it) tha [...] he never slept on Parnassus: which was also held as another cause of the poetique faculty. Where with reason, as good as theirs, one might say, H [...] never slept Soundly or Snorted on that hill, bu [...] had lightly taken a gentle nap. The parts of th [...] similitude hold an equall proportion: and then referre the ridiculous curiosity to the secret smile of the Iudicious.

The second is about the next word Caballino with which, according to Their exposition, th [...] [Page] epithet which in my translation I giue to Pega­sus, may seeme somewhat to straine curtesie: inas­much as it implyeth the swiftnesse (and so by cō ­sequent the praise) of the horse, to which it is (iustly) applyed: when as They would haue it to be vsed in the disgrace of the vaine Poets, which are heere derided. Deriving so the ignominie of the word Caballus from the Well to the per­sons: implying Them to be base packe-horse po­ets. A pretty, but imposed meaning, if farther en­quired into. For if the poet vse this word especi­ally for that reason, it might seeme (me thinkes) that he did forget what horse he himselfe meant: there being as great difference betweene Pegasus a winged horse, and Caballus a packe-horse, as well-nigh could bee betweene two creatures of one kind. But if they once come to Coniectures, I may assume the like libertie to interpose Mine also; And then I Could thinke (which, I wonder, the Critiques did not see) that the Poet vsed this word before others, for a most naturall & strong reason drawne from the Etymologie of the word Caballus; which, as Isidore in his Originals hath it, Lib. 12. cap. 1. is deriued, à cavando: propter quòd gradiens vngulâ impressâ terram concavet, quod re­liqua animalia non habent; And then who seeth not how excellently the history of Pegasus is in­timated [Page] in this word? This Etymologie is much strengthened by the letter v changed into b. For in the Moderne languages which haue drawne their originall from the Latine, we see the v still retained, as in the Italian and Spanish Cavallo, and in the French Cheval; and which may be ob­serued, These words in none of these Moderne languages imply any disgrace, but are generally attributed to all horses; Nay, from these words are drawne Titles of dignity, as Cavaliero, in the Italian, Chevalier in the French, and Cavallero in the Spanish.

But (that I may follow thē no farther in these their wandring speculations) to speake freely: I thinke the Poet neither thought as They thinke, nor as I shew how I Could thinke, and thinke as well as They. I am perswaded that more is pic­ked out of these Poets, then they themselues ever meant. For indeed when a Satirist, through the heat of his loue to vertue, is set on fire to see the desperate securitie of prophanesse: the fury of his passion doth so transport him: that there is no time left for the placing or displacing, choosing or reiecting of some particular word: but as most commonly their passions are vneven, rough, and furious: so is that also which they write being in this poeticall perturbation.

[Page]The difficulties which I haue heere set downe, were by my peculiar affection to This Author, at last all ouercome. I haue not herein bound my selfe with a ferulary superstition to the letter: but with the ancient libertie of a Translator, haue v­sed a moderate paraphrase, where the obscuritie did more require it: yet so, that with all conve­nient possibilitie, I sticke vnto his Words. To haue added Large annotations, had beene but to transcribe a Commentarie or a Dictionary. Such briefe ones notwithstanding, as without which, the sense could not be sufficiently explicate, yet could not bee well inserted into the text; with all compendious perspicuitie I haue adiected in the margin: prefixing Arguments to euery Satire.

From the affected obscuritie, wherewith this Author hath hitherto laboured, I cannot altoge­ther quitte him, yet doubtlesse, it in part, procee­ded from the want of Libertie, which in his de­sperate times, was altogether lost; though, I con­fesse, He durst say Somewhat.

As for My labours: I much abhorre so sickly an impotencie, as to ouerweane my selfe with a conceit of mine owne worke; though, if my best friends tell me truth, It may beare a Iudge. But howsoeuer; If the truly Iudicious (who are al­waies [Page] attended with Perspicacitie, & a milde cē ­sure that true exciter of promising ingenuities) shall courteously accept it: I am Crown'd: and hauing thus finished this worke of an Others in­vention, I may be excited to a second and more liberall attempt of mine owne.

But if any Left-handed Pythagorians (who enforce Writers now adaies as the Ancients did their Comoedians, to vse insteed of Prologues expressing their arguments, Apologies against the malicious) shal sinisterly accept, what is cour­teously offered: I only wish them the other good qualitie of the Pythagorians, Silēce. For the over­sights which I may bee perchance convinced of (as the purest eie seeth not its owne blemishes, but by reflection) I wil, being shewed them, with free ingenuity confesse: & doubt not of pardon; hauing two so good solliciters in the eie of any, but moderately courteous; Mine Owne Infancy (in respect of any Maturity of iudgement) & the vnacquainted Difficulty of my attempt. To haue committed No faults in my Translation, had bin to Translate My Selfe, and put off Man.

What other faults Detracters woulde Make (by their Owne Reading, or Interpretation) let them knowe, they are committed not out of Ignorance, but Election, after a iust consulta­tion [Page] with more then a *Cornutus. Author vete­rum Glossarū. Murmellius. Vinetus. Pithoeus. Marcilius. Foquelinus. Tornorupaeus. Lubinus. Casaubonus. Frischlinus. Bondus. Farnabius. Dozen Ex­positers. But why doe I in the In­discretion of Too-much humilitie prostrate my endeavors to the Ty­ranny of the Ignorant: who stand Herein so Many degrees below the faculty of Iudging cēsurers? If any in the procacity of baser ma­lice (raised commonly from a des­paire of Imitation) shall proceede farther vnto contumelies: I shall not need, as some doe (though I approue Their course also) to arme my selfe with a confidence of Reli­gion; I will not put it to the stresse: nor against the stroake of so leaden a sword, vse the protection of so golden a shield. A little as­sum'd Stoicisme shall serue the turne; and with a Secure Contempt, I'le let them Scoule alowd Vnheard. Farewell.

Thine BARTEN HOLYDAY,

A LETTER OF A JVDICIOVS FRIEND requested by the Authour to deliver his censure on his Translation.

Mr. B.H. I haue read your smooth translation of rough Persius, and send it home to you with my Censure (such as you wish) ingenuously free. I will deale Iustly with you Now, Friendly at Other times. In My judgement, when you conversed in this familiar and friendly manner with Persius his Satires, your witte stooped farre below the elevation of its owne worth. But as Scaliger said of Claudian and his works, Solo argumento ignobiliore oppressus addit de ingenio, quantum deest materiae: (Lib. 6. cap. 5. Poetic:) So I of You and Your Poem; Whatsoever is meane in your Authour, is (mee thinkes) so choicely adorned by Your Genius: that if it stand out of the presence of Ignorance or Desperat Emulation, it may bee Gracefull. Which I doe more hartily affirme, because you haue Chastised your Poet with modest, yet significant termes: where some ranke-breathed Interpretet would haue rendred him with a strong savour of lasciviousnesse. I know not now, what should stay You from sending it abroad, or O­thers from giuing it welcome entertainment. If Old Persius were ever worth the hauing: Yours, I doubt not, will bee thought Well worth the reading; yet looke for Other cen­sures and Neglect them. Farewell.

Your louing friend, IOHN LEY.
DArke Persius, Ambrose threw thy booke on ground
With indignation, 'cause 'twas so profound:
But now in fathers roome a child is sprung,
That reader thy Satires in a vulgar tongue.
No Ambrose, yet with ambrose to be fed,
That could so wisely tracke, where thou couldst tred,
He takes away thy vaile, and makes that line
Transalpine, which the Romans would confine:
Now let thy wandring shadow freely roaue,
And seeke great place in the Elisian groaue,
Where since theres store of bay, for him one knit,
That makes the looser Brytaines feare thy wit.
Needes must his owne inventions radiant be,
That casts such beames through thy opacitie.
Hence forth (bright Holyday) to change refuse
Thine Owne Terpsichore, with translated Muse.
In Latio latuit Saturnum filius: Aulum
Sic poterat soboles ista latere suum,
Ante tuas (Holydaie) faces; hâc luce refulget
Pluribus, & caeco, tector ante, patri.
Gymnasiarcha, puer, festivus ludat vterque:
Per Festum vobis otia quanta diem?
Nunquam Pegaseas libavit Persius vndas,
Nee fonte, &c. Nec in bic: &c.
Aut clausit docto lumina pigra jugo.
Nempe tibi, fontem latices (que) & culmina Phoebus
Servârat: pleno dum satur ore mades.
Quidve Aulus traheret? cum fic Helicona refundas,
Vt natet Angligenis Jtala Musa labris.
[...]
[...].
IOHN WALL.

VPON THE HAPPY TRANSLATI­on of the most difficult Satirist, performed by his deare friend Mr. B. H.

I Sing the Conquest, which an English rime,
With all its force ne're wonne before This Time.
Who thought that there would extant be the Man
That such stiffe, sullen, hardy Romans can
Subdue, and with an hand, learnedly fierce,
Bind in the fetters of a Britane verse?
Yet here is one that doth: But not as those
That
Ovid: Met. Virg: Aeneid.
changed shapes, and wandring Trojans chose
For to translate, with lines a mile in length,
Or Paraphrase that tires. Such is His strength
And strictnesse, he his Author without wrong
Lodges in prisons but of fiue foot long.
Some I haue knowne, that did Attempt the same
Which that they Durst, it was their Greatest fame,
But it was He, that could disdaine to stay
At this praise Margent, only to Assay:
He with impetuous and all-conquering wit
That only had the power to finish it.
For had They don't, J know they must haue left
Their graver studies, and haue filcht with theft
Guiltie of too much sacriledge, more howres,
Then time would loose; or else those sister powers
Jnvoke to lend them Others liues, to plucke
A vessell with such Remora's bestucke
To wished shoare. But as for Him, with strange
And easie hast, he did his Roman change
Without complaint of time: No serious part
Of learning murmur'd, that he did impart
[Page]Howres to the worke. For all this was begot
(I speake my conscience) when it was his lot
To be at Truce with studie. Then iudge you
That shall vpon his happy paines, a vew
Bestow, that nere the Muses Holydaies
Or times of leasure, were with greater Praise,
Or Thrift, or Businesse spent: and likewise since
He conquer'd hath so fierce a Latin Prince
Vnto the Rimes and Phrases of Our tongue:
Decree that bayes vnto his brow belong.
A. WHITE.

TO HIS KIND FRIEND Mr. B. H. vpon his Persius.

AS if in travailes farre ingag'd, at last
Return'd, I gratulate thy labours past.
But when vnto thy waies I turne mine eye
Dangers obscur'd with dangers J espie.
J think't a taske too great for humane sleights,
Vngraueld or vndasht to passe those streights.
Admiring thy chast notes, in which vnharmd
The Syrens lustfull language thou hast charm'd.
That Art I loue, when as 'gainst faith of sence
By sence of faith I see things flow from thence.
Nor doe I (like to his ore'wheeling braine)
Persius still a cloud, imbrace in vaine;
This's the substance giues vice the fatall blow
The others thunder few to feare doe know.
On envy, summon all the vices spight:
Better they should be conquer'd then not Fight.
R. WELDON.

VNTO HIS LOVING FRIEND Mr. B. H. vpon Persius translated.

THis worke me thinkes makes my coniecture bold
T' affirme th' Athenians paradox is true,
Annus Pla­tonicus.
When by yeares revolution J behold
Men dead reviue, things long since old, grow new.
For should dead Rome awake, and those loose times
Which feard and felt this scourging Satirist,
Shee might againe in vs review her crimes;
As fertile is Our age. Nor hath it mist
The worst of all Her ills. Vainely we thought
Thy ashes (Persius) Slept within thine vrne:
Feard not thy lash: hop't negligence had wrought
Thy lines worse Funerall: and at length would turne
All to obscuritie; For how few did striue
T' enlighten thy darke phrase, vnlesse some vice
Made an acute bad comment: So to thriue
And purchase perspicuitie, is a price
Thou would'st haue griev'd to giue. Yet since in ill
We haue ore'tune past times: I must reioyce
That Constant industrie should get such skill
As to tell vs our bad in Persius voice:
Whom now All vnderstand: all may endure
To reade, but Such as would their crimes obscure.
T. GOFFE.

TO THE AVTHOR HIS most loued friend.

VVHat None haue Dar'd, Thou hast; and might'st againe
With praise, were it vndar'd. Did'st thou abstaine
[Page]Yet longer, none would dare Thee to Prevent;
If any, what could breed thy more Content
Then, when by victorie, thy glory should
Be doubled? yea, although recall some could,
From fields of rest, thy Persius to consult:
Yet would no lesse praise from thy lines result,
Then that vnparalel'd, which now is due
From those that reade thee. Who when they shall view
How Truely with thine Author thou dost pace
How hand in hand yee goe, what equall grace
Thou dost with him obserue in every tearme:
They cannot, but, if iust, iustly affirme:
That did your Times as doe your Lines agree,
He might be thought to haue translated Thee;
But that he's Darker, not so Strong; Wherein
Thy Greater art more clearely may be seene;
Which dost thy Persius clowdie stormes display
With lightning and with thunder; Both which lay
Couched perchance in him, but wanted force
To breake, or light from darknesse to divorce;
Till Thine Exhaled skill compress'd it so,
That forc'd the clouds to breake, the light to shew,
The thunder to be heard. That now each child
Can prattle what was meant: whil'st Thou art stil'd
Of all, with titles of true dignitie,
For Loftie Phrase, and perspicuitie.
I. KNIGHT.

TO THE AVTHOR HIS very good friend.

RE-liuing Persius, Daies-Birth, Heire of Fame:
I wrong not Persius, giuing Thee His name;
If any, I wrong thee for what He did
Had'st Thou him not Illustred, had beene hid.
This being but thy Pedestall of praise,
Oh what a Pyramis will thy Next worke raise?
True Laureat, with blest Omens goe thou on;
All-imitable, imitating none.
I speake not this (nor need'st thou it) of Favour.
But as one conscious of thy Great workes labour.
My tongue was never oil'd i'th' base claw-art.
Jn Others read thou Wit, in Me my Heart.
W. W.

TO HIS LEARNED FRIEND Mr B. H. vpon his iudicious translation of Persius.

VVHat lay imprison'd, and confin'd alone
Only to deeper apprehension;
Thy more benigne, sublim'd, transcendent wit
Hath reacht, and conquer'd, and imparted it.
And giu'n't to all, which makes it more thine owne
Since all are heires of that invention.
Nor doth one iot, so sweete congruitie,
Adulterate the Latin chastitie,
All things conseru'd, so terse, so nothing lost
[Page]As if thou didst consult with th' Authors Ghost,
[...]uch height, such sacred indignation
As seemes a Persius, no Translation.
On, learned Quill; thus vindicate thy name
From times prowd Iniurie, Traytor to fame:
Nor suffer yet, that Italy so long
Should make her Vice speake English, not her Tong.
W [...]ip backe her basiards, send them home to Rome,
Let her that was their parent, be their tombe.
Meane while J dare Congratulate our Crimes
Made Happy that they could produce These Rimes.
T. G.

AVLVS PERSIVS FLACCVS. THE PROLOGVE.

Argument.
Need and not Inspired skill
Makes our Author trie his quill.
MY lippes did never touch the spring
Of the wing'd horse: nor can I bring
To minde, that e're I dream'd vpon
Two-topt Parnassus, that thereon
I might be' Inspir'd and So Vp-start
A Poet by Infused art.
And all the Muses that doe dwell
'Bout pale Pirene, and the well
Of Helicon, to Those I leaue,
Vnto whose statue's browes doth cleaue
The Jvy-greene incircling Crowne.
In humblenesse I halfe a Clowne
Doe only bring this my rude line,
Vnto Apollo's sacred shrine.
Yet blame me not for my bold deed:
Alas! I write enforc'd by
A satirical Ironie Per­sius was a Knight of Rome of suf­ficient wealth.
need.
Who taught the Parrot his kind Haile?
Who taught the Pie so to prevaile
[Page]To frame Our words? 'Twas but to fill
Their belly, master of their skill;
Which skilfull is to make them reach
Voices, which Nature cannot teach.
Nay; if there chance to shine but some
Hope, of deceitfull Gaine to come:
Crow-poets and poetique Pies
You'd thinke did chaunt sweet ayries;
And make (when as they harshly Crie)
A Pegaseian Melodie.

SATIRE. 1. THE FIRST SATIRE IN forme of a Dialogue. The Speakers. PERSIVS. MONITOR.

Argument.
Inspired poets Art and Pride
Our Satirist doth heere deride.
P.
O Cares of men! O emptie Vanitie
P.
aWhy?
Of things!
M.
who'l read these Wondring Satires?
Dost Thou say so my Friend?
M.
Faith I thinke none.
P.
How saist thou? None?
M.
Perchance some two, or—
P.
None?
M.
Tis hard.
P.
Yet why? Least Rome's b Polydamas
And doutie Troians should preferre the asse
c Labeo before Mee? Tush; their false doome
[Page]Is but a trifle. If disturbed Rome
Prowdly sleight any thing, scorne to descend
To Their Vaine censure: neither striue to mend
The tongue of thy false ballance in Their scale
Which is as wrong: but if thou'dst never faile
Know This: To trie thy secret innocence,
The surest witnesse is thy conscience.
For Who is Not at Rome? O that I might
But freely speake, yet speake no more then Right.
And So I May. Then, when I cast mine eie
On those whose Faces promise Gravitie:
On our sad Stoickes: on the things we doe
Since we left off to play with nuts: and view
Our actions, when we labour much to be
Sterne Vnckles. Then! then! But, oh, pardon me,
I will not touch. Yet can I hold my peace
Vrg'd Thus? and from revenge so lust, Thus cease?
I'me of a Scoffing spleene. I Loue to Flout
At Hypocrites: therefore it now Must out.
Then Thus.
Being immur'd from each mans sight
In some obscure retired place, we write
Some, ev'n-pac'd numbers, Some freefooted prose,
Some weighty thing, which th' Author strongly blowes
From his large-winded lungs. For he rehearses
Vnto the people straight his well-pen'd verses;
His haire being first kemb'd smooth, and then he dight,
In a faire comely garment fresh and white,
Wearing some precious jewell, which some friend
On's birth-day to him for a gift did send,
With moist'ning syrrope having clear'd his throat
Apt Now to sound it in a various note.
Then is he reading in a seat on high,
[Page]Dissolu'd vnto a lustfull Acting eye.
Where thou maist see ev'n those that beare the name
Of Rome's braue Titi (but vnto their shame)
To shake with trembling lust, and to reioice
Obscenely, with a broken skreaking voice
When a leud line their inward loines doth pierce,
And touch them with a lust-provoking verse.
But thou Old Dotard, dost Thou striue to feed
Other men's eares? nay, Theirs who without heed
Or moderate discretion praise thee so,
That (skinne-peel'd Asse!) thy selfe dost first cry, Hoe?
Here the Poet faineth a reply of this old am­bitious Poet de­fending him­selfe.
Why did I learne vnlesse this leaven here
Inbred, this strong wild-figtree should appeare?
And from its seate the liver breaking forth
Shew to the world its owne, though vnknowne worth?
P.
O see ambitious palenesse! see Old Age!
At such corrupted times Who could not rage?
Think'st thou, thou nothing know'st, if it be so,
That others knowe not, that thou this dost know?
A second reply.
O but tis braue to heare men cry, See, see?
And pointing with their fingers, say, That's he.
Say you 'had a poeme which so smoothly runs,
That 'twere for lectures read to great mens sons,
Braue lads with curled lockes, like gold so yellow:
Would not you thinke your selfe a pretty fellow?
P.
O that's not all! See, our Romulidans
Prophane our sacred poems with foule hands!
Reading, amidst their bowles, poems divine,
Being full vp to the throat with flesh and wine.
Where if forsooth one clad in purple cloth's,
Snaffle some mustie stuffe through's muffling nose
Melting forth faire Hypsipyle's sad song
Or Phyllis fortune with a moist'ned tong
[Page]Or some such tales which poetrie affordes
His daintie palate tripping forth his wordes,
The Men assent! And are not th' ashes then
Of this Rare poet blest? This man of men
Hath he not now a f lighter mole of earth
Gently pressing his bones? A gen'rall mirth
Ensues: the guest with hands and voices ring
His due applause; And shall there not now spring
Ev'n from his Manes, from the hollow wombe
Of his thrise-happy vrne-inclosing tombe
Sweet Violets? But, Oh, saies one, you touch
Too scoffingly, wrinkling your nose Too much.
For doth there breath a man that can reiect
A gen'rall praise? and his owne lines neglect?
Lines worth immortall Cedars recompence,
Nere fearing new-sold Fish or Frankincense?
Well; whosoe're thou art whom I did make
But now, the Adverse part to vndertake;
When I my selfe doe write, if from my braine
Doe flow by greatest chance some happy straine
(For tis by chance) My heart is not so hard
So hornie, as to feare the due reward,
Of deseru'd fame. Only I doe denie
The scope of vertuous actions to lie
In thy O braue! O fine! for search but this
Thy O fine! and within it What not is?
No; in These papers knowe thou shalt not find
Labeo's helleborated lines confin'd
[Page]Too superstitiously to Words: nor weake
Loue-elegies, such as Rome's Nobles speake:
Whose iudgement like their overcharged maw,
Wants strong concoctions heat, & is Yet raw.
Briefly whatse're on g Citrean beds is writ,
We hence exclude as th' excrement of wit.
Thou dost some dish of good hot meate provide
For some poore wretch (whose bellie's his tongues guid)
Or to thy quaking foll'wer thou dost cast
Thy thread-bare cloake (which could no longer last)
Then thus thou speak'st. You knowe ev'n from my youth
I hated lies, now therefore tell me truth.
Of me (P. Can He tell truth? Wilt let Me speake?
Thou triflest (bald-pate asse!) and thy skill's weake.
Seeing a fat-hogge-trough-panch before thee struts
Full Eighteene inches with a load of guts.
O blessed Ianus! happy is Thy lucke!
Behind h thy backe, whom never Storkes bill strucke:
At whom no nimble finger'd hand being fram'd
Like asses white eares, ever Yet was aim'd:
Nor so much tongue thrust forth in a base flout
As an Apulian bitch for thirst lils out.
You O Patrician blood whose heads are blind
[Page]I'th' hinder part, prevent a scorne behind.)
What doe men say?
The answere of the flatteres
That now your verses flow
In a soft number'd pace both sweet and slow,
Whose well-smooth'd parts are so exactly join'd
That the severest naile can never finde
The least vnev'nesse. O saies one, he makes
A verse, as he that his true levell takes,
Shutting one eye, for to direct his line,
Which drawing, with red oaker he doth signe.
Whether he scourge with his deepe-wounding rimes
The delicate soft manners of the times,
Or th'impious banquets of revenging Kings:
Our Poets Muse can well expresse great things.
P. I, You shall see a fellow dare assay
To write Heroicke acts, who th' other day
But trifel'd out some Fables of small worth
In scarce true Greeke: whose skill cannot paint forth
A pleasant selfe-describing Groue's delights;
Nor praise the full-stor'd Country, that ev'n writes
The story of its Owne abundant store;
Where fruits and fire-wood and the fat'ned Boare
Are never wanting; where the shepheards feast
Sacred to Pales is, t' expell the beast
That hates the lambe: where shepheards on that day
Are purged in a fire of smoaking hay.
Whence Remus sprung: where (
Q. Cincinnatus.
Quintius) thou wast borne,
And where thy plow-share was in furrowes worne;
When as thy wife trembling with ioy and feare,
Made thee the great Dictators roabes to weare
Before thine Oxen, and to leaue them Now,
Making the Lictor carry home thy plow.
Behold then this braue Poet.
Some there are
[Page]To whom
Furius Ac­cius Labeo. Briseus, is the sur­name of Bacchus, fitly heere attri­buted to Labeo, be­cause of his mad verses.
Brisean Labeo's book seemes rare:
Whose lines swell like full Veines. Others desire
Pacuvius, whom much they doe admire,
And loue often to reade, and ev'n to stay
Vpon his knottie harsh Antiopa;
Whose wofull heart was nourished with greefe,
The Depth of sorrow yeelding Some releefe.
When thou shalt see the blear-eied father teach
His son these things; cāst thou not quickly reach
To know the cause how this our vile disgrace,
This hissing frying-pan of Speach tooke place
First, in our tōgues? And yet wherin our smooth
The Knights of Rome were anciently so called, be­cause they surprised a towne in Hetruria called Tros­sulum, with­out the helpe of the foote­men.
Trossulians vainely themselues doe sooth,
And ev'n leape in their seats, when as they heare
Old words, which please their thick false-judging eare.
Whē th'art accus'd, art not asham'd to be
Not able thy now-Aged head to free
From feare o'th 'law, but loue the luke-warm cry
Of all thy hearers crying, Decently?
Pedius sayes one, vnto thy charge I lay
The guilt of theft. What now doth Pedius say?
In smooth Antitheta's his fault he weighes,
And for his learned Figures, winnes much praise.
O neate! O neate? In judging thou dost faile,
Base fawning Romane, dost thou wagge thy taile?
For think'st thou, if some ship-wrack'd wretch should Sing.
Hee e're from me one Halfe-peny should wring?
Dost Sing, when at thy shoulder thou dost weare
Thy selfe and shippe, which the sharpe rocks did teare?
His teares shall be express'd through's Miserie,
Not-Studi'd for by Night, that would mooue Mee
To pitie. M. Yet in Numbers, O, there shines
Beauteous composure added to those lines
[Page]Which were before but raw. P. I, so it seemes;
For one, this as the only skill esteemes
To end his verse (But, O ridiculous!)
With Berecinthian Atys; or els, thus;
The Dolphin which did cut Cerulean Nereus.
Ex'lent! and this our Romans count most serious!
So thus another drawes his numbred line,
We drew a ribbe from the long Apennine.
M.
Virgils Ae­neads, which beginne so, Arma vi­rum (que) cano.
Armes, and the man I sing, perchance you'l dare
To terme This frothy, fat-bark'd.
P.
O no; spare
Your Too-quicke censure, & dissolue your brow.
This Poem as an aged well-growne bough
Season'd with time, is with the warme Suns heat
Well boild in its owne barke; growne strong and great.
M.
What then doe you terme soft, and to be read
With a loose-bending necke, and bow'd-downe head?
P.
Their writh'd hornes the Mimallones did fill
With sounds, and Bassaris about to kill
The scornefull calfe, snatching from him his head,
And Moenas as the spotted Lynx shee lead
With Joy-bridles, oft did Evion sound:
The reparable Eccho did rebound.
These, these are braue I But, Oh, should Such lines be
If any veine of Old Nobilitie
Did liue in vs? These Weake lines in the Brimme
Of ev'ry mouth, in th'vtmost spittle swimme.
Moenas and Atys or some foolish Songes
Are alwaies in the moisture of their tongues.
They never Buffeted a Deske for These,
Or Bitte their Nailes: such lines are writte with ease.
M.
Grant this be true: yet Sir You haue no need
With biting truth to make their soft eares bleed.
Well, looke you to't; I feare; be not too bold,
[Page]Lest great mens thresholds towards you grow cold.
Me thinkes, th' are touch'd already, and I heare,
The doggish letter R sound in mine eare.
P.
Nay, Sir, rather then so, all's white and free:
All, all is admirable well for Mee.
I will not hinder't. Now y'are pleas'd I thinke.
You'l say, Let no man make My verses stinke,
Making a place for
This place is thus against the cōmon in­terpretation more manerly and truly ex­pounded by Mr. Bond.
vrine, in a scorne,
Among My papers.
P.
See then you adorne
Your booke, and paint two
These re­presented the Genius of the place, and were painted there to de­terre anie from viola­ting the place by any pollu­tion.
Serpents on't; Boyes, None
Must vrine in This Sacred place: be gone:
And Ile goe first.
Yet did Lucilius cut
Lewd Rome, and thee, O Lupus, that didst glut
Thy appetite, and thee (Mutius) growne weake
With lust, & did on vs his Iaw-tooth breake.
So subtile Horace laughing with his friend
Would cunningly his vices reprehend,
And lying in his bosome, in his heart,
Would bitterly deride him with great art.
Skilfull he was basely t'esteeme the rout,
Yet neere wrinkled his nose, or Seem'd to flout.
And may not I then Mutter? not to th'
An allusi­on to the fa­ble of Midas.
Dust?
Not, though Alone? No where? I will; I must
Digge here, ev'n here. (My book) I speak to Thee;
I'ue seene, I say, I'ue seene; (my tong's born free)
Who has not Asses eares? Thou shalt not buy
This my obscure concealed mysterie,
This my dear scoffe, my Nothing, for whole miliads
Of any base Poets long-winded Iliads.
Thou whoso'ere thou art, that art inspir'd
With bold Cratinus; or with zeale art fir'd
Like angry Eupolis; and art growne pale
[Page]With that
Aristo­phanes.
old man, whose stile with a full saile
Beares strong against foule vice: vouchsafe a glance
On these My Satires also; where by chance
If any thing more perfect thou shalt heare,
Among my lines; grow hot with a purg'd eare.
But him with deepest scorne I doe detest
That basely loues to breake a bitter jest
At a Philosophers poore Shooe: and winkes
At him, whose sight is bad, calling him Blinkes:
Counting himselfe no meane man, bearing some
Jtalian honour at Aretium;
'Cause, being Market-Clarke (such was his pleasure)
He brake their earthen vessels lesse then measure.
Nor loue I him that counts the counting-table
Of deepe Arithmeticians but a fable.
Nor him that scoffes at Figures made in
An allusion to the story of Archimedes; see Plutarch's Marcellus.
dust
By sound Geometry. Such are vniust,
And Enimies to th'Arts. They much delight
To see the bold-fac'd queane Nonaria fight
With a good honest Cynicke; and will grinne
If that shee pull his beard off from his chinne.
These, in the morning next their hearts Ile send
To study the Edicts lest they offend:
Yet after dinner (for they 'le turne no more
From vice) vnto Callirhoe their Whore.

SATIRE. 2. THE SECOND SATIRE VNTO his friend Plotius Macrinus.

Argument.
Profane desires: true sacrifice:
Bold sinnes: our Poet here descries.
SIgne This day (Macrine) with a Purer stone,
Which doth present to thee times long since gone.
Powre wine vnto thy Genius; for Thy care
Is not to winne Ioue with a Bribing prayer.
Nor crau'st Thou, what thou sham'st to name for feare
Except Ioue's drawne aside that none may heare.
Though no small part of Rome's chiefe Nobles can
Sacrifice with a low-voic'd incense-pan.
Tis not an easie thing to take away
The murmur'd whisperings of those that pray
From the Gods Temples. Tis no easie thing
To liue with Knowne desires. a They vse to sing
Alowd, that strangers and the standers-by
May heare 'hem, when they pray for honesty
Or a good mind, good fame. But for the rest
Of their desires, inwardly th' are supprest
Vnder their murmuring tongues; such as are these
Profane requests; O that some strong disease
Would make my Vnckl's braue rich funerall
To bubble vp. O that my rake would fall,
[Page]As I were working, on some sounding pot
Of silver; b Hercules blessing my lot.
Or would I might expūge this yong, rich Ward
By whom from great possessions I am bar'd
Being the next heire; for he's with scabs perplext,
And is with swelling choller sharply vext.
There's Nereus to, has buri'd yee three wiues,
And I scarce—! O Such men lead Happy liues!
That these things thou religiously maist craue
Of Ioue, in swelling Tybers silver waue
Early thou washest twise or thrice thy 'head
Purging the c night pollutions of thy bed.
Dost heare? answere me this: and but disclose
Thy thought in one smal question Ile propose.
What thinkst of Joue? thinkst he may be preferd
'Fore Some? Whom? be't ev'n d Staius; art afeard?
And doubtst thou Whether is the fittest Guard
And iuster iudge for a young guidlesse Ward?
This then, wherwith thou dar'st to presse Iou's eare,
Tell but to Staius: would he not ev'n feare
To heare thee Speake? and casting vp his eie
Cry, O good Joue! and shall not Joue then cry
Vnto himselfe for vengeance? What? dost thinke
Thou art Forgiv'n, because he's pleasd to Winke
At thy blacke deedes, and sooner strikes a Tree,
With horrid Sulphure, then Thy house and Thee,
When with his roaring thunders he doth chide
The prowd high-mounting aire? Dar'st thou deride
[Page]The pow'r of Heav'n, and lay with Joues Fond beard,
As if th'hadst Leaue, because thou ne're was fear'd.
With some strange judgement? or ne're yet did'st lie
A woefull spectacle to each mans eie,
Vnholy, to be shunn'd in some sad groue,
Then ceasing to be sacred vnto Joue,
Or th'other Gods, vntill with sacrifice
Th'Aruspex great Ergenna purifies
The same, by offring th'entrals of two sheepe?
Or els, what ist? with what reward dost keepe
The bribed eares of the corrupted Gods
That they should only giue indulgent nods
At thy vast crimes? ist thy fat offering
Which to their sacred altars thou dost bring?
Now you shall see some grandames, or fond Aunts,
Whom womens Fury Superstition haunts,
Take vp a tender infant in their armes,
And being skilfull to depell the harmes.
Of an e effascinating eie, they'le spet
Vpon their middle finger, and then wet
With this their purging spettle, the childs brow
And prettie lippes. Then with a humble vow
Dauncing him in their armes, they'le vainely spend▪
Their poore leane hope, in praying Ioue to send
This babe in time to come such happinesse
As once wealthy Licinius did possesse
In fruitfull lands: or such as Crassus held,
Who for braue houses, Rome's chiefe Lords excell'd.
They wish that Kings and Queenes may be at strife
To make ev'n their best daughter His blest wife.
And as for Maides (say they) Yee Gods aboue!
[Page]O let'hem strongly, strangely fall in loue
With his rare beautie: and that whereso'er
Hee treades, a crimson rose may spring vp there.
Braue! braue! But yet I will not bid My nurse
Pray so: or if shee doe; then Good Ioue Curse
Her Prayers; Though cloth'd-White shee strongly Crie,
Yet for thine Owne sake, Strongly still Denie.
Thou wishest for firme nerues, and for a sure
Sound body, that would healthfully endure
Vntill Old age; why be it, that thy wish
Is Granted by the Gods; yet thy Large dish
And full fat sasage make the Gods Delay
To blesse thee, and doe Force good Ioue to stay.
Thou'd'st faine grow rich: yet dost thou sacrifice
An Oxe, (is that the way in wealth to rise?)
Then vpon Mercurie the God of gaine
With this thy offering, thus thou cri'st amaine,
Let my domesticke Gods (great Mercury)
Make all things happie in my familie!
Blesse thou my heards of beasts, blesse thou my lambs,
And make my tender yewes the happie damm's
Of many yong-ones. Mad-man! wilt thou see?
This is impossible! It cannot bee!
When as so many heyfers fats doe frie
In flames of sacrifice? Yet doth he crie,
And with his Entrals and his dainetie Cake
Striues to o'recome, and forcingly will Make
The Gods to heare; nor yet will hold his peace.
Now doth my field, now doth my fold encrease:
Now twill be giv'n: now, now, vntill at last
Deceau'd, his great hope prooving but a blast:
His Money in his chest may make its moane
For want of company; yet sigh alone.
If for a gift to Thee some friend presents
A silver goblet, or rich ornaments
Curiously graven in a massie bowle
Of purest gold: straightway thy very soule
Is touch'd with a strong passion: and thou shak'st
Ev'n Droppes from thy left breast (Vaine heart that qual [...]'st
Thus with a trembling joy?) Now because gold
Thus pleaseth Thee; hence tis that Thou dost hold,
The Gods are pleas'd so too, and over lai'st
Their statues faces (that thereby thou maist
Procure their favour) with gold purchased
From th'enemie, which was in triumph led.
For those f brasse-brother-gods that send a dreame
Most true, and purg'd from thicke, corrupted fleame,
Whereby in sleepe men are disturb'd, or feard,
Let those be chiefe, and weare a golden beard.
Gold hath the pots of earth, and brasse disdaign'd,
Though vs'd when Numa, and good Saturne raign'd.
Gold likewise hath expeld the Vestall Vrne:
Gold doth the Thuscan Earth to Gold now turne.
Base stooping soules, that groovle on the Earth,
In whom there's Nothing testifies their birth
To be from Heav'n!
Yet, doth not this suffice?
But we must bring these our iniquities,
To the Gods Temples, where their pow'rs divine
Doe dwell; and ev'n profane their holy Shrine?
As if there could be any thing in these
Infected Carcases, the Gods to please?
This Flesh of ours makes vs in vaine to spoile
Sweet Casia, by mixing it with oile
To make vs ointments. This doth make vs staine
The soft Calabrian fleece in Purple graine,
This makes vs with much art to polish well
Mother of Pearle, drawne from the fishes shell.
This from th'vnpurged earth made vs desire
To straine out veines of gold by purging fire.
This sinnes; and sinnes; yet persevers in sinne.
But you great Priests, tell; what doth gold within
The holy Temples? sure, no greater thing
Then g puppets, which to Venus Virgins bring.
No; let vs striue to bring to th'Gods, that which
Messala's bleare-eyed ofspring, from his rich
Large incense-bason nere could giue; A mind
By Law and by Religion well confin'd;
A retir'd soule; a heart not stained by
Foule lust, concoct in Noble honestie.
This let me bring to th'Gods, and Ile obtaine
Offring but a Small Cake of some Course graine.

SATIRE 3. THE THIRD SATIRE.

Argument.
Yong Gallants Sloth, and their Neglect
Of Arts, this Satire doth detect.
VVHat Ev'ry day thus long? fie, fie, arise:
See how the cleare light shamefully descries
Thy sloth & through thy windows shining bright
Stretcheth the narow chinks with his broadlight.
We snort till the
An hypall: for, till the shadowe touch the fift line; which is about our Eleven of the clocke. Hee vnder­stands this of Sun-Di­als. You may see the forme of an anci­ent Roman Sun-Diall, in Ramirez his Pente­cont. cap. 23.
Fift shadow touch the line,
Enough ev'n to digest strong Falerne wine.
Now what dost doe? The furious dog-stars heat
Vpon the parched corne hath long since beat
With its fierce scalding influence, and made
The beasts to seek the spreading Elmes cool shade
Thus the companion of some slothfull youth
Does freely chide him. Then saith he, in truth
And ist so late? indeed? some body then
Come presently and reach my cloths: why when?
If then no bodie come, Oh how he swels,
And breaks with b glasse-like choller; & thē yels
With such a foule loud noise, that you would say
Surely some great Arcadian asse did bray.
At last, with much adoe he doth beginne
To take his booke in hand and some faire skinne
Of smooth c two-colourd parchmēt: he takes thē
Some paper and his knottie reed-like pen.
Then he complaines how that his inke doth stick
[Page]In clots at his pens nose, it is so thicke.
Powre water then to his blacke d Sepian iuice,
He cries, now tis too white. Ha's a device
For ev'ry thing. So Sometimes he doth plead
His pen writes double, or his inke doth spread.
Wretched, vnhappie man! yet growing still
More wretched! Think'st wee're borne to take our fill
Of sloth? Why dost not then like the soft Doue
Or great mens little children, rather loue
In delicatest wantonnesse to lappe
Some soft sweet spoone-meat, as, a little pappe?
Or angry with the tear, why dost not crie,
Refusing to be stilld with Lullabie.
e Why can I studie, sir, with such a quill?
e Alas! whom dost thou mocke? why pleadst thou still
Such vaine ambages? wretched man to flout
Thy selfe! Th'art broken! loe, thou leakest out!
And know thou Shalt be Scornd! strike but a pot
Of some raw earth halfe-boild, and will it not
Tell its owne fault, yeelding a dull crazd sound?
Well; Yet th'art soft moist clay, and mayst be wound
To any forme: Now therefore, Now make hast
To vertue: Present time must be embrac'd.
Now like the potters clay, now thou must feele
Sharpe disciplines effigiating wheele.
His companions ironicall defence of the others carelessenesse.
But, oh, thy father left Thee Land enough,
And a cleane Salt-seller, with houshold stuffe
Sufficient, needst Thou then feare any thing?
[Page]So th' hast a secure pan wherein to bring
Incense to thy protecting Lares. Well;
But think'st thou this enough? wilt therefore swell,
And breake thy lungs with an ambitious wind,
Because that thou thy thousanth off, dost find
Thy branch to be perchance drawne from a tree
Of some high Thuscan true nobilitie?
Or that because clad in the purple graine
Meeting Romes Censour with his pompous traine
Thou canst salute him, by the name of Cuzze,
And arrogantly aske him how he does?
Away: goe pranse before the multitude
In these thy trappings; seeke not to delude
My iudgement: for I knowe thy soule within,
And see thy faults writ in thy outmost skinne.
Art not ashamd to liue like dissolute
Loose Natta? but (alas!) he's destitute
Of Sense! He stands Amasd in vice! the deepe
Fat brawne of sin makes his heart soundly sleepe!
That now he doth not sinne! No, he's so grosse,
So stupid, that he's senslesse of his losse!
And sunke downe to the depth of vice he'le swim
No more againe vp to the waters brim!
Great father of the Gods! when cruell lust
Touch'd with inflaming venome, moues th'vniust
Corrupted disposition of fierce kings,
To act vnworthy and vnkingly things:
Punish them only thus; Let them but see
Faire vertue, and their lost felicitie.
Then shall their bowels yearne, and they shall cry
In secret, and wax pale, and pine, and die.
Did ever the Sicilian brasen bull
Roare out his torments with a throat more full?
[Page]Or did the sword hung by a slender thread
Vp in the golden roofe over the head
Of the
Damocles.
crownd flatterer, more terrifie
His soule, then when a man shall truely cry
Vnto himselfe, I fall, Oh, I doe fall
Downe head-long; & shall Know he's past recall?
And Inwardly grow pale (O wretched life!)
Which he's afeard to tell his neere deere wife?
Indeed, when I was Young, I like a foole
Would 'noint my eyes with oile to stay from schoole:
When I'de not learne, through sloath, the stately part
Of dying Cato, though 'twere penn'd with art.
And my too-carefull Master prais'd it much:
And my glad father being moou'd with such
His praises, brought his friends to here his boy
Brauely act Cato, and would sweat for ioy.
For then I car'd not to knowe any thing:
Except how much the luckie Sice would bring:
Or what the loosing Ace would scrape away
Or that my fellow might not put false play
Vpon me, neatly cogging forth a die
Out of the small-neck'd h casting-box. This I
Did learne: and for the scourge-stick I did striue,
That none his top with greater art might driue.
But now, Thou art not at This age to learne
Betweene good and bad manners to discerne.
Noe; thou Hast learn'd the precepts that are taught
In the wise porch, where curiously are wrought
By Polygnotus skill, the conquer'd Medes
In their short sloppes: whose story overspreads
[Page]The Walls: and where in searching hidden truths
The little-sleeping close-shorne Stoick Youths,
That feed on huskes and a course barly cake,
Early and late industriously doe wake.
And vnto Thee the
The letter of Pythago­ras, who by birth was a Samian.
Samian letter Y
Whose spreading branches teach Philosophie,
Hath marked out ev'n as it were with chaulke,
The high-rear'd right-hand path, wherein to walke.
And snort'st thou Yet? What? is thy head growne slacke?
Art jaw-falne? Doth their frame begin to cracke?
Lyest yawning, to evaporate th' excesse
Of yesterdaies oppressing drunkennesse?
Hast thou propos'd thy selfe a certaine end?
And with thy best endeavour dost thou bend
Thy bow at that? Or, carelesse of thy hurt,
Dost throwe at crowes, with stones and clots of durt
Neglecting where thou runn'st? Hast thou no drift,
But only for the Present how to shift?
Well, yet be provident; when our sicke skinne
Doth with the puffing dropsie once beginne
To swell, 'tis then, thou know'st, but vaine to cry
For Hellebore; when a disease drawes nigh,
And yet but threatens thee; Then, then prevent
And meet a danger that is imminent.
But if thou dost delay, till't be too late,
And that thy sicknesse once growe desperate:
Then would'st thou giue Craterus halfe thy wealth
Yet can he not restore thee to thy health.
Learne then, O wretched youthes the mystery
Of Nature in profound Philosophy.
Learne who we are: why we were borne: th' estate
Wherein wee're set; And knowe that not by fate
But wisdome, we may turne our ship with ease
[Page]About high-vertues
An allusi­on to the Romans Nau­machia.
marke plac'd in the seas
Of this our life. Temperately desire
Silver: learne what 'tis lawfull to require
In prayer: and the perfect vse, aright,
Of Money: for which, men so sharply fight:
What likewise to thy Country thou dost owe,
And what to thy deare kinsmen; Learne to knowe
Whom l God hath made thee, and in what degree
And state of life, he here hath placed thee.
Learne: neither envie thou at the full store
Of the greas'd Lawyer, though he haue much more
Provision, then his family can spend
Whil'st it is sweet: which the fat Vmbrians send,
As gifts to bribe his tongue. Nor grutch to see
His Marsian Client bring him for a fee,
Pepper, gammons of bacon, or such kinde
Remembrances. Nor let it vex thy minde,
Because he hath fresh Pilchars to him sent,
Before the former barrell be quite spent.
But heere, me thinks, I heare some boistrous rough
Centurion say; Tush, I haue wit enough
To serue mine owne turne; And Ile never care
To be Arcesilas, or to impaire
My health, like Solon: who doe leane awry
Their heads, pearcing the earth with a fixt eye:
When by themselues they gnaw their murmuring
And furious silence, as 'twere ballancing
Each word vpon their out-stretchd lippe: And when
They meditate the dreames of old sicke men,
[Page]As, Out of nothing, nothing can be brought:
And that which is, can ne're be turnd to naught.
Is it for This they're pale? and that they misse
Their dinner oftentimes, is it for This?
Why yet they are but scorn'd ev'n by the Route,
The People: and our Lustie Lads but flout
Them, and with crisped noses aloofe off,
Strongly ingeminate a trembling scoffe.
Perfius his answere to the obie­ction, which he makes the Centurion heere vse.
Yet, scorne not learning: lest thy falling state
Proue such, as this which here I will relate.
One said to his Physitian, Pray Sir see;
Me thinks I am not as I vse to be.
My heart doth quake as if it boaded death:
And my sick jaws send forth a loathsome breath;
Pray good Sir feele my Pulse: and play your part.
Well, the Physitian vs'd his chiefest art,
And bid him rest Foure daies. But when each vaine
Began composedly to flow againe,
On the Third night: he bid his servant take
A
A small flaggon.
little thirsting-flaggon, and straight make
All speed, to the great house of such a friend,
And tell him, he desir'd him for to send
Some of his milde Surrentine wine: and so
Having dranke that, vnto the Baths hee'd go.
When being there, thither did come by chance
His owne Physitian: who straight cast a glance
On this his patient, and to him said,
Why You are Pale, and are you not afraid?
Tush man, saith he, thats Nothing. Yet beware,
Said his Physitian, and pray haue a care,
What ere this Nothing is. For I doe see,
Your yellow sickly skinne swells secretly.
Well, prethee now, said he, doe not thou raile
[Page]At Me: for thou thy selfe dost looke more pale
And worse: be not a Tutour vnto Me.
One I haue had, and buri'd: now for Thee,
Thou yet remainst. On then, and doe not cease,
Said his Physitian, and Ile hold my peace.
This gallant then swelling with daintie cheere
Bathes his pale belly, and without all feare:
His throat halfe stopt with grosse corrupted fleame,
Leasurely breathing a sulphureous steame.
But midst his wines a suddaine trembling seaz'd
Vpon each ioint of him▪ that his diseas'd
Weake hand could not his luke-warme bowle retaine:
And his vncover'd teeth ev'n gnasht againe:
And then through his loose lips, his fine-oild meate
He vomits, which he greedily had eate.
Then were prepared for his funerall
The o Trumpet, and the Lights: And last of all,
This seeming-happy man, that would not doubt,
His health, being composedly laid out
On his high bed, his biere; and now daub'd o're
And ev'n bedurted with th'abundant store
Of ointments; stretcheth towr'd the Citie-gate
His cold dead heeles; & those whose best estate
But yesterday, was but to be his slaue,
p Now weare their cappes, and beare him to his graue.
q What? then belike y' apply this same to Mee?
But (wretched foole!) th' art out. For knowe, I'me free.
[Page]Touch but my veines: feele how my heart doth beate:
There's but a wonted moderated heate.
Or feele the bottoms of my feete: or hold
My hands: thou shalt perceaue they are not cold.
The answere of Persius.
Tis true. But know seduced man; there sticke
Diseases in thy Soule; tis That is sicke.
For if thou see by chance much gold: or spie
Thy neighbours smooth-cheek'd wench to cast an eie
Vpon thee, smiling with a wanton glance:
Speake true: doth Then thy heart Orderly daunce?
There's set before thee on thy board, to eate,
In a cold dish hard hearbes, somewhat rough meate;
And course bread sifted in the people's searce:
Lets trie your chappes. Oh are yee now averse?
In thy soft mouth there's hid a putrid soare,
Which touch'd with Common hearbes, would make thee roare.
So thy heart's cold, when pale feare doth affright
Thy haire like eares of corne standing vpright.
Againe, fierce anger makes thy blood grow hot,
Ev'n as a fire-brand doth a seething pot;
And then thy flaring eies sparkling forth fire
Thou sai'st and dost So in thy furious ire:
That mad Orestes dares sweare, Such a fact
None but a man starke mad, ere durst to act.

THE FOVRTH SATIRE.

Argument.
Yong Rulers: The complaint of Lust
On Avarice, vnfit though iust.
ARt thou a Common-wealths chiefe Governer?
(Suppose the bearded graue
Socrates.
Philosopher,
[Page]Whom the cold draught of Hemlocke forc'd to die,
Thus to demand) On what dost thou relie?
What are thy grounds? speake Alcibiades,
Pupill vnto the famous Pericles.
Oh, wit and graue discretion, I haue heard
Indeed, do many times Prevent a Beard!
And so Thou knowst no doubt, though th'art but yong,
Both when to Speake, and when to hold thy tonge.
When therefore the vext multitude grow hot
With choller, and their duty haue forgot:
Thou dost but lift vp thy maiesticke hand,
And straight a gen'rall silence dost command
Ore the tumultuous rout. Then what dost say?
These three lines are spoken in the person of this yong Go­verner.
O yee Quiritians (if prevaile I may)
I thinke This is not just that's done by you:
Nor This: twere better if you Thus did doe.
For thou canst weigh truth in the double scale
Of the most doubtfull ballance. If it faile,
Straightwaies Thou know'st it: yea, though hid it lie
Betweene a double crooked falsitie:
Or if a Rule (so perfect is Thy sight)
Measure not ev'ry thing exactly right.
And the blacke
The Iudges being about to giue sentence of death against a man, were wont to write his name in a table, and prefixe before it, the letter [...] as being the first of [...], signifying hee was to be delivered over to Death.
Theta signe of deadly shame
Thou can'st prefixe 'fore an offenders name.
Thou Canst doe this. Oh, twere a crime to Doubt.
Come, come: Thou being faire only without
And in the skinne, in vaine: leaue off to shake
Thy taile, before the flattring rout, or make
Suit for great offices, till age and cares
[Page]Haue made thee Fit to manage such affaires.
Thou being fitter yet to drinke good store
Of pure vnmixt braine-purging Hellebore.
Wherein consists thy last, thy greatest wish?
d In having ev'ry day a full fat dish:
Then with sweet oile to'noint my skin, and lie
In the Sunnes pleasant warmth till it be drie.
d Why hadst thou with the selfe same question tri'd
This poore old woman; shee had so repli'd.
Goe now and boast how thy Nobilitie
Comes from th' Illustrious Dinomache.
Puffe out thy vaunts, and say, I'me comely, faire,
To graunt thee such Vaine praises Ile not care.
When ragged gran'ame Baucis, that does crie
Vnto the looser servants, Will yee buie
Any sweete hearbes, has as much wit as Thee,
That thus dost boast of thy vaine pedegree.
That no man will descend to his Owne heart,
And search the secrets of that hidden part!
No man! But haue their eies fixt evermore
Vpon His backe and bagge that goes Before!
For doe but aske a man, by Chance; D' yee know
Vectidius farmes? Hee'le say, Vectidius? Who?
The Chuffe of Cures, he whose grounds they say
A kite can scarce flie o're in a whole day?
Him ev'n the Gods oppose and the sure fate
Of an vnluckie Genius. Who (the date
Of time, bringing againe the Plow-mens e feast,
When from their paineful labors they haue ceas'd,
And now hung vp their weary Oxens yoke
[Page]By the worne path vpon some aged oke)
When he should freely laugh, and make good cheere
For other plow-men (tis but Once a yeere)
Most basely fearing to pull off the clay
From his small wine-vessel; hee'le sigh, and say,
Pray Ioue, that this my Prodigalitie
Bring me not in the end, to beggerie!
A coated oignion then with salt he eates;
(His servants much applauding such braue meates:
Nay, and reioycing for their happy lot
And for the barly-pudding in the pot)
Then sparingly he suppes in steed of beere,
The cloathy dregges of dying Vineger.
But straight replies the other, If Thou 'noint'st
With supple oile thy foule lubberly ioints
And ly'st in the hot Sunne letting it beate
Vpon thy skinne, with its strong parching heate:
There's one whom Thou scarce know'st, stands here hard by,
Ev'n at thine elbow, that could likewise crie
Against Thy manners, and thy lewder art,
The depilation of thy modest part,
And of thy lunges, to prostitute thereby
Vnto a barren lust thy pathicke thigh.
Thy Cheekes bearing a kemb'd, oil'd beard: Elsewhere
fWhy dost thou too-vniustly-smooth appeare?
Scrape on: but though fiue lustie wrastlers would
Roote vp these springing plants: yea though they should
With crooked pinsers, by their tugging oft,
Weaken thy parts of shame, though first made soft
With Barbers soapie water, so to yeeld
The better, to the plowers of this field:
[Page]Yet this o're-spreading fearne will never bow
Vnto the deepest furrow-making plow.
Thus we wound Others: and doe yeeld agen
Our thighes vnto the darts of other men.
And thus we know mans life pursu'd to be
By this too-much-assumed Libertie.
g Yet some mens faults, because they hidden lie
From the enquirie of their Enemie,
Are not obiected to them; yet are knowne
To him, to whom they crie, We are thine Owne.
Thou hast a secret wound vnder thy side:
But thy broad gold-boss'd girdle doth it hide:
So though thou make Men say, Th'art well (in Vaine):
Will thy Side say so too, that feeles the paine?
Thou'lt heere perchance reply, What? when as all
My neighbours Me an ex'lent fellow, call;
And say, I am not as your Common men.
Shall I, ah, Can I not beleeue 'hem then?
h Alas, blinde wretch! if at the sight of gold
With avaricious loue thou waxest cold
And pale: if ev'ry thing thou likewise doe,
Which griefe-procuring Lust provokes thee to:
If on the table of thy Vsurie,
By most oppressing heavie crueltie,
As by a strong deepe-wounding scourge, thou make
Many a sure-imprinted grievous strake:
To the false-praising People thou maist lend
Thy spungie, sucking eares; but to no end.
Seeme not more then thou art: neither beleeue
The ignorant applause base Coblers giue.
[Page]Liue with thy Selfe, and quickly thou shalt see,
The curtal'd store of thy bare povertie.

THE FIFT SATIRE IN FORME of a Dialogue. The Speakers. Persius, Cornutus.

Argument.
Cornutus praise: Philosophie:
Oppos'd desires: true Libertie.
P.
OVr Poets vse to wish they had large lunges,
And a whole hundred voices, mouths, and tongues:
When they would write a buskin'd Tragedie,
To be yawn'd out with the sad Maiestie
Of a Tragedian: or describe the high
Braue-minded Parthian pulling from his thigh
A hooke-like bearded dart.
C.
Why speak'st Thou thus?
And heapest vp such vast robustious
And swelling lines, that Thou Thy Selfe dost need
A hundred throates, if thou'dst attaine indeed
The end which such endeavours tend to? Rather
Let Them, who'le write some Loftie matter, gather
Clouds off of Helicon, to whom the pot
Of Progne, or Thyestes shall grow hot;
Of which, the fond Tragedian Glyco must
Oft make his supper. But Thou neither dust
Puffe from thy mouthes full bellowes much vaine winde
The whil'st the matters boiling in thy minde,
[Page]Thy fordge: nor with an inward murmuring
Hoarsly crow-like caw'st out some idle thing,
[...] know not what: nor dost Thou striue to stuffe
Thy swelling cheekes, to breake 'hem with a puffe.
Thy words are words of peace, and accurate
Thy stile; thy mouth not swolne, but moderate
Smooths out thy numbers; Thou canst touch to th'quicke,
Pale manners: and with an ingenuous tricke
Strike a crime Through; And Hence indeed from Crimes
Doe Thou draw still the subiect of Thy rimes;
And leaue the feast made with the feete and head
Of Plysthenes woefully murthered,
At sad Mycenae: and doe Thou descrie
The Peoples banquets, full of Luxurie.
[...].
Surely, I striue not that My leafe may rise
Wi [...]h swelling bubbles of vaine fopperies,
[...]it to giue weight to smoake. We speake retir'd:
And inwardly I by my Muse inspir'd
Heere offer ev'n my secret heart to bee
By Thee tri'd fully. For I'de haue thee see
Cornutus, dearest friend, how great a part
Of my deare, yet divided soule Thou art.
Knocke on my breast: for Thou hast skill to know
What soundeth solid, and the cover'd shew
Of a gilt tongue. And oh heere I could craue
A hundred voices: that how much I haue
[...]ixt thee within my many-seated breast,
[...] a pure fluent stile might be express'd:
[...]nd that which now ineffable doth dwell
Within my heart, in words I heere could tell.
When first I did begin to leaue to feare
[...]nder a Master: and left off to weare
[...]y purple-Coate, that still preserved free
[Page]From violation my weake infancie:
And when my Golden Bosse I newly had
Hung vp to my a succinct House-Gods: when bad,
And st [...]ttering companions guarded mee:
When now my White Shield granted Libertie
Vnto mine eyes, freely to roue throughout
The lewd Suburra: when I was in doubt
Which way to take: and when my trembling minde
Was by pernicious errour almost blinde,
Mis-led into divided paths: I then
Offer'd my selfe to thy Instruction. When
Thou straightway didst embrace my tender youth
In thy Socratique bosome: and the truth
Of Thy rule well-appli'd, skilfull to draw
Feeble inclining mindes to reasons law,
Shewd me intorted manners: and my mind
Was press'd by reason, thoroughly confin'd
To learned precepts, stroue to be o'recome;
And tooke a Faire forme from Thy skilfull thombe.
For I remember oft I with delight
Haue spent long daies with Thee: and of the Night
Haue borrow'd the first howres, feasting with Thee
On the choise dainties of Philosophie.
One worke we wrought: we rested both one rest:
Mixing severenesse, with a Modest iest.
For doubt not, both our birth-daies ioin'd in one
Sure league, drawne from one constellation:
Or the vnchanged Parca weigh'd our time
With an ev'n ballance: or that first, that prime
Birth-howre of vs true friends did blessedly
Place our embracing fates in Gemini:
[Page]And heavie Saturnes sterne malignitie
Was broke by our good Ioues benignitie.
I knowe not What, but sure Some Starre I see,
Which inwardly disposes me towrds Thee.
Yet there's a thousand sorts of men: and strange
Varietie doth humane actions change.
Each hath his sev'rall will: nor doe All liue
With One desire, For, One his minde doth giue
To Merchandizing, and with care doth runne
Out to the East vnder the rising Sunne,
To get rough pepper, and pale Cummin seed
For Romane wares Another loues to feed
His panch, and then swell with destilling sleepe;
A third doth Mars-field wrastlings duely keepe;
A fourth turnes banke-rupt by the desp'rate die;
A fift growes rotten by damn'd Venerie.
But when the knottie hand-gout has once broke
Their ioynts, as th'boughes of some decayed oke:
Anger and griefe doe then begin a strife
Within them, for their base and durtie life
Now spent: when now, but now too late, they looke
Vpon the life they wretchedly forsooke.
But Thou in learned writings dost by night
Grow pale. Thou makest it thy chiefe delight
To sow yong purged eares with fruitfull truths,
With good Cleanthes fruit. Draw Hence yee youths,
Yee old men, for your selues, some Certaine end:
[...]ome helpes from cares your old age to defend.
To Morrow wee'le doe this. b Alas! you'le doe
The same, to-morrow. 'Why aske we of you
[...]o much, to wit, only One Day? c But when
[Page]The Third day comes, we haue consumed then
To-Morrow Yesterday: and thus to borrow
Of time, though yet to come, still one To-morrow [...]
Will secretly driue out our Yeares at last,
When Ev'ry day a New day will be past,
Never to be recover'd. For Thou Wheele
Which dost about the Second Axle reele
Hindermost, maist in vaine striue to o'retake
The First still turning forward, which doth make
Like hast, with equall swiftnes: though thou bee
Hard by it plac'd vnder the selfe-same tree.
Whos'ever then True Libertie would gaine,
Let him embrace Philosophie: for vaine
Is Other freedome; Such, to wit, whereby
Any new Publius may familiarly
In his (the Veline) tribe course corne demand
By bringing but his Token in his hand.
O men barraine of truth, that thinke they can
Make, with a Turning, a Quiritian!
Heer's Dama a base horse-keeper not worth
Three halfe-pence, a meere sot, that can't looke forth
From out the mist of Jgnorance, and one
Who'le lie ev'n for the least occasion,
For horse-bread; whom if 's Master turne about,
I' th' moment of the Whirling he goes out
Straight, Marcus Dama. The Gods! Darst denie
To trust one, Marcus being suretie?
Or, Marcus being iudge, art pale with feare
Of Wrong? Marcus said it: then thou mayst sweare
Tis true. Now Marcus seale the Bond. Oh, heer's
Braue Libertie and true, which our Cap weares
As well as Wee! d Why is there any free,
[Page]But he, the which doth liue at Libertie?
I liue at libertie, and am not I
More free then Brutus then? e Oh heere stands by
A well-taught Stoick, whose more purged eare
Is wash'd, as 'twere, with Truths sharpe vineger,
That sayes, I grant the First; but where you say,
J liue at Libertie, take That away.
f Why? since I came from th' Praetors rod Mine Owne
Free man, Ile Now be subiect vnto none;
And why may n't I doe with full liberty
Whats'e're g Masurius doth not deny?
h Oh, learne: but this thine anger first depose,
And let fall from thy too-much-wrinkled nose,
Thy rugged scoffe? whilst from thy lunges I pull
These old wiues tales, of which thy breast's Yet full.
It was not in the Praetors pow'r to giue
Pure Wisdome vnto Fooles, or make Them liue
By Reasons rule. No; thou shalt sooner fit
Vnto the harpe, a rough rude souldiers wit.
'Gainst which Reason doth stand, and secretly
Whispers him in the eare, and sayes, Fie, Fie:
Never attempt what thou canst nere reach to,
And only spoile, whilst thou dost striue to do.
The law of man and nature both deny
Weake Ignorance the priviledge to trie
Forbidden things. Dost Thou mixe Hellebore
For a sicke patient, who ne're tri'd'st before
To weigh 't exactly to a Dramme? The art
Of Physicke bids thee not-dare act This part.
If a rude high-shooed clowne offer to steere
[Page]A shippe, not knowing his guide Lucifer:
The Sea-God Melicerta may exclame.
The brow of modestie has lost all shame?
Has vertues art taught thee to walke vpright?
And canst thou with a perspicacious sight
Discerne the Shew of Truth from truth? Dost know
Counterfaite gold by th'Sound? and canst thou shew
What things to follow, what things to decline,
The first with Chaulke, the last with Coale to signe?
Art of confin'd desires? hast thou a small
And pretty well-trimm'd house? art kinde to all
Thy friends? canst wisely sometimes Shut thy store,
Sometimes Open thy garners to the poore,
And with a pure affection vnhurt
Canst thou passe over money i fixt i'th durt?
Nor, as a greedy glutton, loue to licke
Mercuriall spittle, which doth vse to sticke
Vpon the lippes of Niggards? When as all
These things thou mayst thine owne most truely call;
Then, Oh be wise, enioy true Libertie,
The Praetors, yea, and great Joue blessing thee.
But Thou but th'other day of Our degree,
Retaining still thy Old skinne, being free
Only in a smooth brow, that outward part,
Deepe subtilty lurking in thy foule heart:
The Liberty I gaue thee, I againe
Recall, and doe tie Shorter Now thy chaine.
For Reason vnto Thee doth Nothing lend:
[Page]Lift but thy k Finger vp, thou dost offend;
And what's so small? But, thou shalt nere obtaine
By any francke-incense, that the Least Graine
Of wisdome shall ere rest within a foole:
To mix These Two, is against Natures rule.
Nor shalt thou, thou remaining a Clowne still,
Ere daunce three measures with Bathyllus skill.
[...]'me Free.l How canst thou say so, thy affection
Being in vassal'd to the worst subiection?
Knowst thou no other Master, but he whom
The Manumitting rod did free thee from?
Indeed if Now, one say imperiously
To 's slaue; Goe, Sirra, carry presently
This linnen to Crispinus Bathes; dost stand
Still, Lazie knaue? This his severe command
Doth moue thee nothing: because now no whip
May scourge Thy Lazie sides, to make Thee skip.
But if within, in thy sicke lungs doe spring
Head-strong desires, art Thou in any thing
Lesse servile then, then is such a poore knaue,
Whom th' whip & feare of's Master made a slaue?
Thou lying long in bed, avarice cries,
Vp, vp, Not yet, saist thou: For shame arise,
Cries she; I can't, thou do'st reply: Why so,
Saies shee againe? Rise, Rise; dost thou not knowe
What thou shouldst doe? Why goe to th' Sea, bring thence
Fish, Beaver-oile, flaxe, Eben, franckincense,
And loosning wines of Co; and be the first
[Page]To fetch from th' Camel, whilst he yet doth thirst,
Fresh pepper: exchange somewhat, and forsweare
For Gaine. O but (alas!) then Ioue will heare
Why, foole, if thou wilt dwell with Joue, thou shalt
Striving but to get out one tast of salt,
Boare a hoale through thy oft-lick'd salt-seller.
Well; being got vp, thou dost (not to deferre
To execute her will) provide thy men
Bagges for to lay their cloathes in, and then
Lai'st-in wine, with such other things thou knowst
Are fit for Navigation: then straight go'st
To shippe; where nothing hinders thee to saile
O're the Aegaean Sea with a full gaile,
But Luxurie. That doth seduce thy weake
Vnstayednesse, and thus with art doth speake.
Whether, Oh whether madman, dost thou run?
Whether? What lackst thou? What wouldst thou haue done?
(m And now thy hot breast with strong ire doth swell,
Which a whole pot of Hemlock can scarce quell.)
Wilt Thou passe ore the Seas? Wilt Thou ere eate
Thy Supper, making a Stretch'd Rope thy seate?
Shall a broad-bottom'd tankard that does st [...]ke
Of pitch, fume out the wine, that Thou must drinke?
Nay, vile ruddie Veientane wine? striv'st thou
To make thy lab'ring money sweat forth now
Eleav'n in twelue, the which did Heere obtaine
Ne're aboue Fiue in Twelue, a modest gaine?
Come, come: cherish thy Genius: let's be free
T' enioy a full delight: for without Me
Life is Not: and remember that ere long.
Thou shalt be but a Ghost, dust, and the song
O' th' People. Thinke how thou by death shalt passe
[Page]Away, like Time. This which I'ue Spoke, It was.
What dost thou now? Two hookes a double way
Now drawe thee; Wilt thou this, or I his obey?
Thou must be slaue to both alternately:
Now serving Avarice, now Luxurie.
Nor maist thou, if thou dost for Once withstand
Their instant and importunate command,
Say straight, I'ue broake their bands; For, loe,
A dogge by tugging breakes his knot, just so,
Who, though he runne away and bite and straine,
Yet at his necke doth traile much of his chaine.
Chaerestratus in serious meditation
Biting his naile to th' quicke through deepe vexation
Saies to his man; Davus, I now intend
All my fore-passed greefes and Loue to end;
Beleeue me. For shall I bee still a shame,
Vnto my sober carefull friends good name?
Shall I spend all my stocke with infamie
At the lewd threshold of a Stews? Shall I
Drunke before Chrysis 'nointed moist doores stand
Singing, my torch extinguish'd in my hand?
O
Davus his reioycing at his Masters promised reformation.
rare yong Master! Be hence-forward wise:
And offer vp a lambe in sacrifice,
To thy protecting Gods.
The interrogation of Chaerestratus to his servant Davus.
But dost beleeue
Davus, if I forsake her, that sheele grieue?
Davus his indignation, at his Masters weake inconstancie.
Dost trifle, Idle boy? Then she shall breake
Thy pate with her red pantofle, and wreake
Her spight vpon thee, that thou shalt not dare
To quake, nor bite her fast-entangling snare.
[Page]Th'art Now averse and violent; but when
She shall perchance but call thee: thou'lt say then,
I come straightwaies; for, why? what should I doe?
Sha'n't I goe to my Loue, when Shee doth Wooe,
And Sends for me? But if thou canst Now, Now
Redeeme thy selfe All and Entire; Thou, Thou
Art that thrise-happy man, that only He
Whom Only, We iudge to be Truely free.
Not he, o're whom the foolish Lictor wagges
His rod, and of him, as His Freeman bragges.
For, Oh, can he be truely call'd his owne
Whom Candidate Chaulkie Ambition
Drawes gaping to Her lure? To whom she cries,
qVnto thy Clients salutations rise
By time, and giue a lib'rall doale of pease
Vnto the scrambling multitude: that these
Our large Floralia may be made the talke
Of Aged men hereafter as they walke
In the warme Sun; For what can be More braue?
rAnd art not Superstitious to haue
On Herods birth-day, many candles plac'd
In order i'th' oild window, much defac'd
By the fat clowd the which they vomit out,
Though with sweet violets th'are deck'd about;
And t'haue a Tunies taile, as 'twe [...]e to swimme
In a red dish, thy white bowle full to th' brimme
With wine, yet dost nor fast till night, and pray
All the Iewes circumcised Saboth-day?
Then with Hobgoblins, and the feigned feare
Of danger from a crackt egge, and th' austere
Graue Priests of Cybell, and the one-eied maide
[Page]Of Isis with her timbrell, th'art dismaid.
And thinkst the Gods will puffe with some disease
Thy swelling skinne: if thou shalt them displease:
Refusing by their graue rules to be led,
To tast each morne three times a Garlicke-head.
And saiest thou yet, thou liu'st at libertie,
Being subiect to th' extreamest vanitie?
Yet speake this, which the Gods doe knowe, is true,
'Mongst full-veind Souldiers: what would straight ensue?
Some vast Volpenius with a full deepe throate
Would bellow out a laugh, in a base note:
And ten times ten Philosophers of Greece
Would scarcely prize at a clipt Ten-groates peece.

THE SIXT AND LAST SATIRE TO his friend Caesius Bassus a Lyrique Poët.

Argument.
The pining Niggards fruitlesse care,
To feed the lust of his lewd heire.
NOw, Bassus hath the cold made thee retire
Thy selfe, this winter, to the Sabine fire?
Doe thy old harpe and strings liue to thee still,
Sounding lowd musicke with a stiffer quill?
Great workman! whose blest Muse sweet lines affordes,
Full of the Natiue beauty of Old words:
And on the Romane harpe with happynesse
Of skill, a masculine, strong sound t [...] expresse:
Now playing yong mens sports, now playing some
Braue Old mens actions, with an honest thombe.
The warme Ligurian shoare growes hot to Mee:
And I'me now winterd at my Natiue Sea;
Where the rocks yeeld a shoare to them that saile
And where the haven into a large vale
Retires it selfe. Tis fairely worth the sight,
The port of Luna, full of much delight.
Thus said wise Ennius Aft'r h' had dreamd he was
Homer, the fift form'd by Pythagoras
His Peacockes soule. Here I retir'd liue free
From caring what the People thinke of me:
And what th' vnluckie South-wind doth prepare
For cattle; Nor doe I take greefe or care
If that my neighbours field's more fat then mine.
Let all poore-borne grow rich, Ile never pine
[Page]With stooping age, for That: or want good cheere:
Or touch the signe of dreggy sealed beere
In a hoar'd flaggon. Yet another may
Dissent from this. For oft the same birth-day
Hath an Ascendent strongly influent
Producing ev'n in twinnes a different
Yea an opposed Genius. For the one
Warily with great circumspection,
And on his Birth-day only, dips his drie
Course hearbs in brinish sauce, which he doth buy
In a small cup, His Owne selfe Sprinkeling
His dish with Pepper as a Holy thing.
The other a braue boy couragiously
Spends his large portion in luxurie
On his consuming tooth. But as for Mine,
Ile Vse it: yet nere let my Freedmen dine
With Turbets: nor be curious-mouth'd to know
But by the tast if 't be a Thrush or noe.
Proportion thy expences by thy gaine:
And grind out freely (for thou maist) thy graine
Laid vp within thy barnes. What shouldst thou feare?
But harrow, and behold straight will appeare
Another harvest.
The covetous mans pretended reason in defence of himselfe.
Why, I Would thus spend,
But Dutie hinders me. For my poore friend,
His shippe being split, held by the Brutian
Sharpe rockes; and buri'd in th' Jonian
Rough waues all his estate, and his deafe cries
Neglected by the Gods: and himselfe lies
Vpon the shoare with his great Gods, which he
Caught from his broken ship, whose ribs now be
Expos'd vnto the Cormorant. b Nay, Now
[Page]Giue him some of thy Land: and doe not thou
Thinke thou canst be Too free; Let him not lacke,
Wandring with a Greene
The table of his shipwrack
Table at his backe.
But if thou' impaire thy wealth, thy angred heire
Of thy last funerall-feast will take small care:
And with neglect into thy vrne will throw
Thy bones without perfumes, carelesse to know
Whether he buy dull-smelling Cinnamum,
Or Casia corrupt with Cherry-gumme.
Hee'le say. What dost thou idly spend thy wealth.
My portion, being in thy perfect Health?
But more; I'me sure there's thriftie Bestius
Doth presse your learnedst Graecian Doctors, thus;
Thus 'tis, since your Fond Liberalitie,
Rather c emasculate soft Luxurie,
With pepper, dates, and other ware hath come
From your lewd Greece vnto our Citie Rome,
Our very Mowers doe with too much oile
Their ancient wholesome meate Sawcily spoile.
dBut fearst these things beyond thy Graue-Draw neere,
Thou whosoere shalt be My heire, and heare:
And that into our talke none may intrude,
Let vs retire from the thicke multitude.
My friend, know'st not the newes? Caesar hath sent
A Laurell for a signe and ornament
Of his great conquest over Germanie:
And the cold ashes which before did lie
[Page]Vpon the Altars, are now swept away:
And with great care and ioy e Caesonia
Fixeth the conquer'd Kings armour of proofe
And all their weapons to the temples roofe:
Clads all the captiues in a durt-browne freise:
Placeth the Rheni of a huge vast size:
And orders all their coaches: Wherefore I
Will bring for this so happy victory
fTo th' Gods and our great Captaines Genius
A hundred paire of fencers. I being thus
Freely dispos'd, who doth forbid? Dar'st Thou?
Woe, if thou yeeld'st not. Say, that I'me pleas'd now
Vpon the people to bestow a doale
Of oile and flesh-pies: dost thou dare controule?
Speake out, and plainely. Why, your land, thou'lt say,
Is not so fat, so bonelesse, but I may,
For any cause I see, not greatly care,
Whether or noe, you doe make Me your Heire.
Well then, scorne Thou my Loue; yet thus much knowe:
Enow will be my heire, and thanke me too.
For were none of my fathers sisters left:
No cousen-germane: or were I bereft
Of all my vnkle's neece's daughters: say,
My mothers sister had di'd barraine: nay,
That none sprung from my grandame did surviue:
Briefely, that not one kinsman were aliue:
Ile goe but to g Bovillae, or the
These were places not farre from Rome, where beggers vsed to aske almes of passengers.
hill
Of Virbius, where standeth ready still,
[Page]Poore Mannius: He shall be my heire. h What Hee?
A sonne o' th' Earth? Obscure? h Why aske of Me,
Who was my fourth Forefather, I can't Well
And Readily declare; though I Can tell.
But if you 'de knowe His father, and againe
That fathers father: sure you must remaine
Satisfied thus; That He did drawe His birth
Immediatly from his mother earth;
And so at last, you'le finde Mannius to be
By right of kinne, great vnkle vnto Me.
Yet why at all should'st Thou indeed desire
To be my Heire, when thou might'st be my Sire
For Age? and why should'st thou demand of Mee
My torch, when I in i course runne After Thee?
Yet if thou be my heire, me thinkes, thou oughtst
To be content, with what thou never bought'st▪
I'me Mercurie, and come, to Thee, a God,
As he is k Painted. With a churlish nod
Scorn'st my free offer? Wilt not thou be glad
For what is left? l Why, heeres not all You had
Left to You by Your father. l True indeed.
Much I did spend on mine owne proper need.
But, briefly, this is all is left: which All
I'le Giue to thee; And doe not thou now brawle
Vnkindly with me: neither aske me where
Is that which Tadius left me: and ne're
Giue me hard words, as fathers drawing nigh
[Page]Their end, doe giue their sonnes before they die;
Saying, See thou put out the Principall:
And spend but of the Vse: let That be all.
m But yet, What's Left? m What's left? Now lib'rally
Pow're boy, pow're oile vpon my hearbes. Shall I
Vpon a high festivall day, be fed
With a sod nettle, and a leane swines head
Hung vp i'th'smoake by th'eare; vnto the end
This lewd knaue may My goods hereafter spend?
And fill'd with dainty jiblets, without shame
Lewdly embrace a soft Patrician Dame;
When as his wayward, full-swolne, chiding veine;
With an vncertaine lust doth sob againe?
Shall I be like the warpe of bare cloath, that
To him a strutting panch may quagge with fat?
n Oh, sell thy Soule for Gaine, to leaue thy heire
Wealthy: and so thou gettest by thy ware,
Ne're care how honestly. Sift ev'ry coast
Of the whole world, that thou mayst truely boast,
No man feedes fatter Cappadocian knaues
In a rough cage, then are Thy lustie slaues.
Double thy wealth. o Tis done; nay't has increas'd
Three, foure, ten-fold as much. Yet scarce is ceas'd
And now, where likewise I may rest, designe,
Chrysippus, thou that didst Thy p heape confine.
THE END OF PERSIVS.

AN APOSTROPHE OF THE TRAN­slatour to his Authour Persius.

THou art Redeem'd; Nor has the Fate of Time
And Vice seiz'd on thy glory. The Worst crime
Which does o'recloud the Guilty, addes to Thee
A Lustre, which out shines obscurity.
Who thought not, that the Great-borne Spirit of Rome
Had lien o'rewhelm'd in her Last Brutus tombe?
Yet did it Not: but did at last bring forth
Thee, the Example of her Ancient worth.
Jn whom, had Vesta's fire by which Rome Stood
Beene out, there might haue yet beene found as good.
Mount then, thou purer fire, and let thy heate
Strongly exhale from their infectious seate
Th' envenom'd fogges of vice; And then inflame
Them, that they may be lights to their Owne shame;
Which, as a Comet, may affright the earth
With horror, at its owne prodigious birth;
And, with its darting taile threatning dread
Vengeance, point-out to wrath each guilty head.
Bee thou the Vestall fire, thy Priest Ile bee,
And consecrate my vigilance to Thee.
Bee thou th' enlifening Sunne, Ile bee the Earth,
And offer vp to Thee this gratefull birth
Of thankes: which thus now giv'n, though straight it Die,
Jt has liv'd Ages in its Infancie.
Action, not Time, does number age. Who giues
[Page]A iust praise to great Vertues Patrone, liues
Himselfe by his iust Gratitude. Let Spight
Then doe its worst, and with eternall night
Labour to clowd my name. Obscure to lie
With Vertue, is an immortalitie.
THis lash has but Sixe knots: but see thou mend;
Or peradventure Else I shall intend.
(Although my Angry Muse saies Shee will bee
No more thus Wit-bound, thus Tongue-tied, not Shee)
To come in Fury; and thee Naked strippe;
And Scourge thee with a Sixteene-knotted whippe.
FINIS.

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