A most horrible, terrible, tollerable, termagant satyre most fresh and newly made, and prest in print, and if it bee not lik'd, the Divells in't.

A most horrible, terrible, tollerable, termagant satyre most fresh and newly made, and prest in print, and if it bee not lik'd, the Divells in't.

Table of contents

To his friend Iohn Taylor, the ingenious Poeta Aquaticus, and the Author of this most wholesome following Blackmouth'd biting Satire.

Allandro pasqueto Mallatrumpa entantrino liuroe.

1 Satyre. The Proud man.

2. Satyre. The Avaricious or Covetous Man, and Projector.

3. Satyre. The bragging Rogue.

4. Satyre. The Mountebanke, or Quacksalver.

5. Satyre. The Alchimist

6. Satyre. The Hypocrite.

7. Satyre. The Whoore.

8. Satyre. Of degenerate Honour.

[Page]A most Horrible, Terrible, Tollerable, Termagant Satyre:

Most fresh and newly made, and prest in Print,

And if it bee not lik'd, the Divells in't.

FINIS.

To his friend Iohn Taylor, the ingenious Poeta Aquaticus, and the Author of this most wholesome following Blackmouth'd biting Satire.

[Page]

[Page]

NOr speach nor silence now a dayes protects

Men from the Critticks Bolt, he spyes defect [...]

(At least pretends so) in the thought of man

As well as in his actions; shall I than

That have a free-borne spirit balke the way,

Because a Dogge barkes, or an Asse doth bray?

Or cause some rash foole, such an one as hee

That late revil'd the Prince of Poetry

Shall rip up thy beginning, and shall raile

And find exceptions out (Sans head or taile)

Shall this I say deterre me from bestowing

An approbation where 'tis justly owing?

No, I have read thy Fancies, and desir [...]

Whilst others censure thee, I may admire

How the Castalian Flood should swell so high

To drench thy Skull, and raise thy Poesie

To such a pitch; while many a Learned braine

Spake onely prose, short of thy weakest straine:

Meane while thy Bookes and these salute [...]hee, all

Thy friends here doe the like in generall:

And this thy harmelesse and just Satire shall

Make thee and it; be lov'd in generall.

W. Gainsford

Allandro pasqueto Mallatrumpa entantrino liuroe.

[Page]

Il vento Chioli, Mauritambull Tella fulg [...]e,

Antro della campo il Danto Cordi sublima

Pantatbos, stremo standina eschine vandri

Bene in shendo, tercia penthe dissadi.

M [...]crops, Sans fida vocifera Randa Bavinea,

Allatendrea quanto, Eltrada Pizmin [...] venta,

Mega Pollimunton, Theorba quasie quicunque

Triptolina Tiphon, Quabacondono sapho.

Terra trag [...]us sophye, sunt di [...]calcitheo Geata.

A vostre Obserdandi Zhean De FA vostre Obserdandi Zhean De Fistye cankie De sallamanca Andalowsia.

Or thus you may English it, in the transcending praise of the Author, and his following Book.

Till Phoebus blustering blasts shall cease to blow,

And Aeolus shall hide his radient Raies,

Till Vulcans Forge be fram'd of Scithian Snow,

And Neptune like a Shepheard spend his dayes;

When Satuane shall sell Mouse-trapps, and allow

Mars to sing Madrigalls, and Round-delayes:

Then shall thy Booke and thee be out of Date,

And scorne the fu [...]ry of consuming Fate.

To your Worthinesse in all Observance Devoted Iohn Defistie Cankie of Sallamanca in Andalusia.

1 Satyre. The Proud man.

WHat in the World doth true contentment give,

That Man should have desire therein to live?

Yet is it not so full of sinfull staines,

But he doth make it worse that most complaines.

Pride doth for Hamans Honour madly hope,

But never minds his Ladder, or his Rope;

So Elephants are mighty Beasts, but when

They fall can hardly ever rise agen:

And 'tis a signe that honour is extorted,

And basely got that is with pride supported.

[Page] That cannot mount men to eternall Blisse,

Which cast the Angels thence to Hells Abisse:

It is a Fabricke that on Sand is builded,

A feigned glory with damnation guilded.

Ambition deemes the world not transitory,

And Flattery blowes the Bladders of Vaine-glory,

Which makes th'ambitious swim to honors brink;

Untill Time pricks their Bladders; then they sink.

By fooles he may be valued at high rate,

A Bugbeare, or a Skar-crow in a State,

A Mountebanke of Honour, or a Thing,

That may in Post-hast to Promotion spring:

And may with whimsies milch a Common-wealth

And purchase, by his Universall stealth,

Gods curse and mans, and more; he may doe this

Be way of Change, or Metamorphosis; (need,

Turne men to Silke-wormes, forcing them through

From out their bowels spin his gawdy weede.

Consider this thou new made Mushrom man,

Thy Life's a Blast, a Bubble, and a Span;

And thou with all thy Gorgeous trappings gay,

Art but a Mouldring lumpe of guilded Clay.

Thy out-side may be Rich, thy inside poor, (doore

Worse than the wretch that beggs from doore to

What though thy Coate be richer Stuffe than mine?

And that thy Linnen be more pure and fine?

Or that thy Periwig bee sweetly scented,

Most neatly Keam'd, slick'd, curled and indented?

[Page] What though I be nine dayes behind the fashio [...]

Or that my Breech be of the old Translation?

Not to be drawne on with a shooing-horne

As Quaile-pipe Breeches are, and wise men scorn

What though with points I am not Trust below

My small unto my anckle? (Oh rare show)

What though that I observant be to thee,

And stand before thee bare, with bended Knee?

Will my Hat off, cause thy head cease to ake?

Or my Leg make the Gout thy Limbes forsake?

Or doth not my poore duty puffe thee higher,

And swell thy too much hatefull Pride t'aspire?

Then is my manners quite misplac'd, for I

Have no mind to commit Idolatry;

Unto a thing that's out of Reliques made

From Drapers, Mercers, and the Silk-mans Trade

I'le bend no Knee, nor shall my Bonnet Wagge,

To Velvet Remnant, or a peece of Shagge;

A Plush Plus ultra man in scorne and pride,

Such Ioyes, such Popping-joyes my Lines deride:

His Tayler made, and shap'd, and trim'd, & trick'd him

And (like a young Beare) into fashion lick'd him:

He put his Corps insuite, and brave Array,

And after puts his Bill in [...] for pay,

Such Things as thos [...] [...]

Nor will I give [...]

For though man [...]

Of all the trea [...] [...]

[Page] [...]t hath he not these gifts to man allow'd,

[...]at he should be thereby ambititus, proud.

[...]ere must be neate distinctions of Superiours

[...] Habits; to bee knowne from their inferiours:

[...]t hee's a Cinnick, and a stupid Stoicke

[...]at will not Reverence such as are Heroicke;

[...]odnesse with Greatnesse, Merits, Dignity

[...]ost gracious gifts of Heavens Benignity)

[...]r Honours due, where Honour doth belong;

[...]d those that yeeld it not their soules doe wrong.

[...]d gorgious Garments may be justly worne,

[...]t yet not lin'd with pride, contempt, and scorne.

[...]od doth hate Pride, the gate of Heaven is low,

[...]nd all that enter there must humbly Bow.

[...]alew no man for that which hee doth weare,

[...]or value any man for what they were:

[...]is in-side being good, I care not which,

[...]hether his out-side be or poore or Rich;

[...]or Tarquin 'twas unkingly, most unfit

[...]or him a Rape on Lucrece to commit;

[...]et though the fault were foule, 'tis understood

[...]was done by lustfull youth, and heate of blood:

[...]o doubt, but Tarquin (in those Heathen Times)

[...] th [...]t fact [...] [...] other crimes;

[...],

[...];

[...] to Riot,

[...];

[Page] But all these Vices were not in him seene,

They seem'd in him as if they had not beene:

For they (like Vermin) all did hide and shrow [...]

In th'odious Title of Tarquin the Proud.

Thus though mans Life to sundry sins is thrall,

Prides gaudy Ca [...]opy doth hide them all.

2. Satyre. The Avaricious or Covetous Man, and Projector.

WHat Title best befits that cursed Wretch,

That daily makes his Cheverell Conscienc [...] stretch,

His mucke unto his Neighbours mucke to joyne,

And be a Bawd to his engendring Coyne;

Whose soule to damned Avarice is sold,

And (like an Atheist) knowes no God (but Gold)

And pale-fac'd Silver is his Goddesse pure,

To gaine whom, he all slavery will endure;

Doe any villany with hand or Braine,

(Provided that the end of it be gaine)

Live like a Rascall, beggerly and bare,

Lye downe in sorrow, and rise up in care;

Rake, and racke Tenants to the very Bones,

Respecting neither Teares, or sighes, or m [...]anes;

[Page] And keepe [...] House (as Hunger-starv'd as Hell)

[...]ith whom the Mice and Rats disdaine to dwell;

[...]hose Christmas Dinner (in a Pipkin drest)

[...]e counts a costly and Voluptuous Feast.

[...]t let him be invited once abroad,

[...]he tiranizing Wolfe will lay on load

[...] if he never in his life did eate;

[...]r that he never after should see meat:

[...]us often his ung [...]ily Guts are cram'd,

[...]ot at his owne charge, he will first be dammn'd;

[...]hus Begger'd in his m [...]d insatiate

[...]e lookes on [...]idas State, forgets his Fate;

[...]e will not weare the Asses Eares in vaine,

[...]e once (perhaps) may weare a golden Chaine:

[...]r if not so, he [...]le serape what wealth he can

[...]o make his Lack-wit Sonne a Gentleman,

[...]or whom (more Mad than any man of Goatham)

[...]ee'le dive to Tagus Sands, or Hels vast bottom?

[...]ll that he doth possesse he counts it none,

[...]is Neighbours State he daily dotes upon;

[...]midst his Masse of Riches hee's not rich,

[...]is Achans Wedge that doth his soule bewitch:

[...]hus like a Fiend of Hell he neither cares

For Orphans iniuries, or Widdowes teares;

His eares are deafned to their lamentations,

His Coffers fill'd with Coyne and execrations;

Himselfe growes old and Gouty, Rhumaticke,

Most loathsome Coughing, Wayward, Chollerick,

[Page] Noysome to all, and stinkes above the ground,

Despis'd and slighted like a mangy Hound.

His Wife, his Children, Kin, and Family

All looke upon him most disdainefully; (ratt

He coughs, spits, spawles, and in the throat do [...]

And death and him are in a mortall Battle:

His people pitty him, and altogether

They wish him dead & gone, they care not whith [...]

He would say somewhat but he cannot speake,

He fumbles with the Sheets, his Eye-strings brea [...]

Within his mouth he mumbles, champs & chaw [...]

These 12. next following lines shall shew the ca [...]

A Mole's a Mole, whose food is onely Mold, [...]

And best of mold is but refined gold:

God Mammon is of such high Eminence,

It makes man love Dame Tellus Excrements,

'Tis vices glory, Vertues Laughing stocke,

The Misers honour, and true Bounties mocke;

And he that lives a slave, and dyes a Knave,

Is most unworthy of a Christian Grave.

He hides his wealth, and at his dying day,

He in his Dying chopps doth hide the Key;

And in those hidings he is quite bereaven

Of Keyes and Lockes, and entrance into Heaven.

He dyes and stinkes, and every one is glad,

(Although for fashion sake some must seeme sad:)

He must be buried, and a Banquet spent,

Which if hee knew it would his mind torment;

[Page] [...]e in his life ne're kept a Feastivall,

[...]nd grieves to have one at his Funerall.

[...]or ought I know, his Son the head hangs down,

[...]A merry living for a mourning Gowne)

[...]hen in the Grave the fragile Corps are put

[...]here, till the Refurrection closely shut;

[...]nd on his Monumentall stone, or Tombe,

[...]is good Deedes are Insculpt in little roome.

Epi [...]ph.

[...]ere lyes a wight interr'd beneath this Stone,

[...]ho w [...]s of Age neere fourescore yeares and one [...]

[...]e with all hidden vertues was possest,

And kept them; for he few or none exprest:

[...]n all the time which he did here survive,

His holy care was to live long, and thrive;

At last Death strucke him downe, and laid him flat,

He dy'd, and gave [...]he poore no man knowes what.

[...]he Funerall teares are quickly dry'd and done,

And now behold his long Eclipsed Son,

From th'obscure Clouds of basenesse rushing forth,

To shew his Father left him something worth;

He lets those Angels fly to sight externall,

His Dad had long kept darke, like Fiends infernall;

He roares, and Revells, drabs, & drinks and Dices,

Weares and sees fashions, & most strange devices;

[Page] Marries at last into a Stocke of State,

Maintaines her, as befits a Ladies Rate

And more; because her joyes shall full be Crown

He buyes a Knight-hood of five hundred pound:

Her Ladiship will quickely have a care

To be as proud as other Ladies are;

For though of wealth they have the Divell and [...]

Her pride shall make their Charity so small

That she will make her Knight to scrape and gathe [...]

And keepe a base House like the slave his Father;

That e're a yeare or two be gone and past,

A man may sooner breake his Necke then's fast.

And as the Ocean's bounds are largely bounded,

So Avarice, is measurelesse unsounded;

The Sea hath many branches, that doe keepe

Their Tributary course unto the Deepe;

As fountaines, springs, brooks, make mighty River [...]

Those Rivers all into the Sea delivers

All these disbursments: yet for all the store

Th'insatiate Ocean hath no jot the more:

So Avarice, though it be still supply'd

With aydes, or helpes, like a perpetuall Tyde

It swallowes all, and yet, it's Dropsie thirst

Is as unquenchable as 'twas at first.

And now (most pertinent) I will expresse

Th'attendance that doe waite on Covetousnesse.

Mistake me not, 'tis not my ayme or drift

T'enveigh 'gainst honest gaine, or Lawfull thrift;

[Page] Inhumane Lucre, Spawne of Avarice,

Which wretched men esteeme at so high price;

[...]at they (above all vertues) seeke and chuse it,

[...]d will lose Heaven it selfe before they'le lose it.

[...]ucre is cruell, in an Anagram

Which doth expresse the Nature of the same;

[...] there be any thing more cruell, then

[...]or greedy Lucre, men should Murder men?

Wolves in their Kind amongst themselves agree,

[...]or Lucre men each others Bane will bee.

[...]here are a swarme of, old Gehezies Tribe,

[...]hat for the love of Lucre love a Bribe:

[...]wish that they and their posterity,

[...]light likewise have Gehezies Leprosie:

[...]ites stoope to Carrion, Beasts to grasse & Herbage

[...]o will these Mungrells doe to golden Garbage.

A Bribe may spin a Suite in Law, so long

That he whose cause was right, may have the wrong.

A Bribe may have that force and powerfulnesse,

To make the greater Theeves hang up the lesse:

A Bribe, the Scales of Justice oft hath sway'd,

And made a Whore passe currant for a Maid.

My Satyre might an endlesse Journey run,

To search what villany Bribes hath not done:

What mischiefe still it doth, and more would doe,

But that the eye of Justice lookes thereto;

Yet many times and oft, I heare it sed,

That Justice long agoe to Heaven is fled:

[Page] And that by her, our faults cannot be seene,

So many Clouds are interpos'd betweene:

But I would have all vaine surmisers know

True Justice sees, and notes what's done below.

No Bribe, that Court of Conscience tollerates,

Nor no Bribe-taker enters in those Gates.

There comes no Lawyer thither that playes booty,

Th'oppressors soule's kept out, all smutch'd & sooty.

The fear'd, the flaw'd, corrupt gal'd conscience,

Are all eternally exil'd from thence.

But as all Trees are Wood, yet every Tree

Is not to burne; some fit for buildings be,

For Fruite or Physicke some, and some for shade,

For divers uses diversly are made:

Yet mens opinion all in this agrees,

That they are all in generall call'd Trees.

I have heard Broomes cald Beesoms, and I have

Heard honest Titles put upon a Knave:

Yeast is call'd Barme, or Ryfing, but 'tis knowne

That Barme, and Yeast, and Ryfing all are one.

Even so a Bribe, though it can make a shift

To turne the Name unto a friendly gift,

A kind Remembrance, or a Courtesie,

A Fee, a Present, or Gratuity;

A Thankes, or a Reward, or what you will,

Yet 'tis a Bribe, if given or taken ill.

The sundry Names cannot the Nature alter,

The name of Rope's oft put upon the Halter;

[Page] Yet hee's a Blocke, a sencelesse Stocke or Stone,

That thinks for naught to have his businesse done;

He may as well expect meat, drinke, & cloathing;

House-rent and Land: & all things else for nothing.

If I will have my Lawyer plead for me,

'Tis just that he from me should have his Fee;

For be I either Plaintiffe, or Defendant;

And that my cause is difficult, dependant;

If my good Lawyer doe with paines and cares,

Free me from out the Lawes entangled Snares,

That he, or any other whomsoever

Shall doe me good, or use their best endeavour,

I would requite them any way I could;

And such Requitalls for no Bribes I hold.

'Tis being forc'd to give, or to subscribe

Before the businesse done, that makes a Bribe;

But he that for a good turne is ingratefull,

I wish him live accurst; and dye most hatefull.

Thus Bribery is a Member of great price,

And chiefe supporter unto Avarice.

The High-way Theefe that robs by day or night,

Doth Covet that which is not his by right.

The filching Rogue (as every where 'tis knowne)

Doth Pilfering covet, what is not his owne;

The Gamesters that play deepely, soone or late,

Are covetous to win each others state.

The perjur'd Slave is courteous, for he

Will pawne his Eares unto the Pillory;

[Page] And purposely (anothers goods to gaine)

Hazzard his soule to everlasting paine.

The Cheater, Pickpocket, and Cut-purse Knave,

Are covetous anothers Coyne to have;

Nick Froth the Tapster with his curtall Kan

Most courteous courteous Cheates every man,

False Weights or measures, be they great or small

Are Avarices Slaves, and Servants all.

Mounsieur Projector Monopollitan

A Well compos'd, ill dispos'd Gentleman;

That for his good deservings, night and day

Is pray'd for oft, (the cleane contrary way)

The Sea of Avarice is his maine Ocean (motion,

Through which he swims, and struggles for Pro-

Which being long in gaining soone is lost,

Upon the waves of Envy heav'd and toss'd.

The winds of sighes and curses raise a storme,

(And in the conscience lyes a gnawing Worme)

That hurles him too and fro, from place to place;

(That he can scarcely at his meate say Grace)

He splits upon the Rocke of scorne and spight,

And just disgraces Quick-sands sinke him quite.

Thus have I shew'd that covetousnesse is

The very Roote of all that is amisse;

All men, (as men) are subject to offending,

My Satyre bites such, as are quite past mending.

May not that man be justly call'd a foole

That thinkes to make good March-pan of a stoole,

[Page] Or of a Sowes eare frame a Velvet purse,

Or of a She-Beare make a good meltch Nurse,

Drinke Aquofortis, and sustaine no harme,

Or take the Towne of Dunkirk with a Charme:

The way to doe all these I'le sooner find,

Then satisfie an Avaricious mind;

A hungry Iade the World can never fill,

Still feeds, still leaves, still empty, hungry still;

And so I wish all men away to beat him,

Or knocke his brains quite out & let dogs eat him:

But he that willingly will entertaine him,

I wish an old house may fall down and braine him.

3. Satyre. The bragging Rogue.

ANother Coxe-combe boasts of ex'lent parts,

How he hath practis'd Arms, & studdied Arts;

His Travells to write downe would Volumes fill,

Beyond our famous Sir John Mandivill:

And to his reputation 'twere a blot,

To put him in the ranke of Don Quixot.

He past the Zones, Phrygia, and Torrida,

Surveigh'd the South World, call'd Incognita,

And there he saw Great Gorgons empty Scull

So bigge, foure Bushels scarce could fill it full.

[Page] At Stamboloya, (a most stately Port,)

Where the Emperor great Robombo keeps his Court:

There in a Shamaranguah, (which we call

A Chappell) was a building round and tall,

Where as the huge Gargantuas corps were laid,

The-Tombe is full a Furlongs length 'tis said;

Built of a polisht stone like Crimson jet,

(Surpassing farre the Tombe of Mahomet)

Enchac'd with precious Stones that dims the sight

That none can looke on't, it doth shine so bright.

From thence he past the streights of Magellan,

And feasted was by mighty Pouhatan,

Where 'mongst a world of dainties to be briefe,

A Phaenix stew'd in white-broath was the chiefe.

Tut, it will tire a man to heare him halfe

He hath seene Miloes Bull, and Walthams Calfe;

The Monmouth Cap of famous Owen Glendor,

And three eye teeth of th 'ancient witch of Endor:

Ischartots Lanthorne, at Saint Dennisis,

Th' Ephesian Dian, at the Louure is:

The Amphitheater that's at Ulismos,

The Pirramids of Aegypt, or the Isthmos

That parts Utopia from faire Thessaly,

Or lofty Atlas that doth prop the sky.

If all be true he sayes, we may him call

The God of Warrs Lieutenant Generall:

No Turke, or Tartar, Moore, or Mirmidon

Such valient exploits hath under-gone:

[Page] He learn'd Wars Horne-booke first, & did not stint

But past his Grammer Rules was perfect in't;

He first began with Trayning, Mustring, Drilling,

Before he came to fighting, or to killing;

To March, to put his men in Files, and Rankes,

To order a Batalia, wings, or Flankes,

To lead the Vaunt-guard, or bring up the Reare,

To be here, there, (and almost every where)

To guide and mannage men, and make them stout,

Double your Rankes and Files, faces about:

He serv'd the Turke nine yeares, a Renegado,

Where oftentimes he felt the Bastinado;

And though he wore a Coate of Bare-freezado,

Yet there he learn'd the Art of a Soldado,

'Taffront an Enemy with a Brav [...]ado,

To make a Battery, and to use Sealado;

To use Petards, Engines, Wild-fire, Granado,

'Tintrappe the Foe by secret Ambuscado;

To Raise, Mount, Parrapet, or Camisado,

To make a strength more strong with Canvasado;

With his good Sword to use the Imbrocado;

The Punto, the Roverso, the Stockado:

And for Land Service, or the Sea Armado,

He knowes a roll of Match from Trividado.

His Musick, drums, Guns, Cannons, thundring rore,

As if the Welkin were in torters tore;

The Harquebuz and Muskets goe pit pat,

Towers, Castles, Forts, and Ciradells laid flat;

[Page] Mines, Counter-mines, Assaults, Repulses, Sallies,

Whilst Horse and men shine strow the Field [...] and

Battalias, battries, breaches, armies, arms, (vallies

Broyles, Garboy les, hot encounters, fierce Allarm [...]:

Fortifications, Camps, Redoubts, and Trenches,

Va [...]dres, and Counter-mutes, walls, sconses, fences,

On-set [...] and On-slaughts he hath beene upon,

He blow up Tauris, conquer'd Babilon:

He stood Pordu [...] beneath the frozen Zone

Turn'd to a man of Ice, or Christall Stone.

The same day Mars his valour did inspire

And thaw'd him brave, with Sulphur, smoak, & fire.

He in the Battell seem'd a man all flame,

In smould ring Powder, he that day o're came

The Tartar Chrim, and neare to Samere and,

He with Mackougly Shangh, fought hand to hand.

The Leaguers, and the Sieges hee hath seene,

The dread full dangers where he oft hath beene;

He hath daunc'd Antiques in a Crimson Flood,

And swom Lev [...]aes in a sea of blood:

In greatest perrills he would bravely on, (geton,

His throate belch'd fogge, and flames like Phle-

Thus Sallamander like, he oft hath beene

In scorching flashes, and three winters in

An Icye coate, like Armour shining bright

He sorv'd the Pole, against the Moscovite.

He hath laine downe to sleepe a Man, in show,

And rose a Snow-ball, or a Ball of Snow:

[Page] Like the Ca [...]lion (not to food inclin'd)

He liv'd by sucking the cold Northerne Wind,

[...]ain'd by the blast of Fame, that swiftly flyes,

Compounding and confounding truth with lyes.

He hath [...] Blade, (if his report be true)

Wherewith he sixteene desperate Corporalls flew;

And eight Leiuetenants he out-right hath kill'd,

Foure valiant Serjants he hath slaine in Field:

Two Noble Captaines and one Generall,

His fury, force perforce did force to fall.

Blades broake, & batter'd Hilts, he hath had more

Then any Castle can containe the store;

He had a Rapier, sharpe, pure Castilliano,

With which he gor'd and kill'd a great Umbrano,

For guided with an Arme and courage fierce,

It quite through double Cannon proofe will peirce.

Hee'le Guard himselfe from any Bullets fall,

His Sword's his Racket, and the shot the Ball,

Which though it swiftly come, he's so quick-ey'd

That with his Morglay he would turne't aside:

With the same Bilbo, once he madly strikes

And crop'd the toppes off, from a Grove of Pikes:

Thus fighting oft in Winter, and in Summer,

He had more wounds than holes are in a Scummer.

A thousand blowes and bruises, knocks, & cuts

He hath receiv'd; eight times shot through the guts:

He was in Leagure late before Breda.

Associate with the Marquesse Spinola:

[Page] And being in a Boate upon the water,

A Musket shot run through his Piamater,

It peirc'd his Perricranion, that his braine

Was taken out and wash'd, put in againe.

Yet all these wounds, and all his desperate matches,

He calls them petty hurts, or simple scratches:

He was so mawl'd once at Berghen ap Zone,

Boyes call'd him Raw-head there, and Bloody-bone.

From thence he tooke his Iourney into Flanders,

And so to England where he cants and maunders;

Where though he be not now the man he was.

For an old beaten Souldier he may passe.

4. Satyre. The Mountebanke, or Quacksalver.

SIgneur Gonsalvo, come from Naples late,

Hath in the Curcumclusion of his Pate

Ingrost all Learning, and can teach the way

To speake all Tongues; (excepting truth) they say;

There's not a Pissing-post but weares a Bill,

That doth Proclaime his admirable skill.

In Grammer, Logicke, and in Rhetoricke,

Musicke, Geometry, Arithmeticke;

Bright Star surmounting rare Astronomy,

Life-saving Physicke, starving Poetry:

[Page] Invisible Gold Creating Alchimie

Extracting, and distracting Chimistrie:

These Arts perfection are exceeding rare,

And are (me thinks) too much for one mans share:

But yet this Mountebanke hath often swore

That he is perfect in all these, and more.

I will say nothing that may him deprave,

But I will thinke he is a cheating Knave.

Grammer's the ground of Speech, though all men

Without it; 'tis rude, simple harsh, & weak: (speake

For though all speake by Nature, I can tell

By rules of Grammers Art, men may speake well:

Logick's a Speech, that seemes by disagreeing

To make things be, or not be in their being;

To whet mens wits, to try and tosse conclusions,

And learnedly to reconcile confusions.

Rhetoriq [...]e, I call th' Embroyderick, or the Varnish,

That doth (with Eloquence) a Language Garnish:

It decks speech, with stile, phrase, and illustration,

And method; and is Crown'd with Admiration.

Arithmatique can shew by Numeration,

How many Minuits past since the Creation:

And how by finite Numbers, and by Fractions,

Allusions may be made to all our Actions.

Astronomie doth search the Pl [...]nnets courses,

Their Influences, their Aspects, and forces;

The revolutions of Time, Dayes, and yeares,

And how the Sun and Moone passe their Car [...]ires.

[Page] Geometry shewes, squares, rounds, eranes & sinnes,

Miles, engines, ovalls, quadrats, trappes, and grins;

The Sea-mans Compasse, Clocke and Dyalls, all

Houses, and Shippes built Geometricall.

Musicke consists of Ayres, of Sounds, of Voyces,

Of Time, space, measure, which the heart rejoyces:

Of Concord, Discord, Unity, Division,

Which none but Affes hold in base derision.

Physicke doth labour, study, search, and try

The hidden secrets of Philosophy

And every simple, for mans preservation;

The learn'd Physitians know their operation.

But Poetry must know much more than these,

It scales the Skies, it dives into the Seas,

'Tis fire, earth; water, aire; 'Tis sicknesse, health

Probatum est: 'Tis any thing but wealth.

And Mounsieur Quack-salver, I tell thee plaine

Thou lyest, to say these Arts are in thy braine.

Thou hast perhaps the Theory of prating,

And Iesuitticall Equivocating:

But for the Practique, thou as much dost know,

As he that said that Corne on Trees doth grow:

What madnesse hath possest our Nation here,

That take delight to buy their deaths so deare:

Can not our Doctors we in England have,

Send us as cheape as Strangers to our Grave:

Or doe not our Physitians well deserne

To kill men, but they must French-men learne,

[Page] Of Germanes, or Italians, oh base,

And insupportable most vile disgrace:

I dare presume that we know every way

To helpe, hurt, kill or cure as well as they.

But al things strange are rare, al's good that's deere

I muse we have no forreigne Hang-men here.

'Tis miserable comfort, poore reliefe,

More danger's in the Physicke than the griefe:

Diseases oft are of such strange conditions

They kill not, if not help'd by strange Physitions.

Like Conjurers, they give their Pagan drugs,

The fearefull name of the infernall Bugs:

A Bitter Divell, Collaquintida,

A Stinking Divell, Arsefetita;

A Pockey Divell, call'd Zarsaperilla,

A mortall for the Morbus Gallica:

Elaphoboscon, bane Cantharides,

Aureum Pomona, of th' Hesperides.

With these (or such like Bug-beare words as these)

They'le fright a sound man into a disease,

And often put a sicke man in such fits,

That he falls quite besides his little wits.

But leaving such impostures as these be,

The scorne of Physicke, and Chyrurgery,

A swarme of Vipers, of so vile desert,

So empty of experience, wit, and Art,

That all their learn'd and over-boasted skills,

Th'affore said posts doe weare in Printed Bills.

[Page] And when unto the World it doth appeare,

They can doe halfe the Cures they promise there;

I for my writing will Repent, and mourne,

And beg forgivenesse; and my Satyre burne.

5. Satyre. The Alchimist

NOw shall my flagging Muse a while persist,

And blaze the Honour of the Alchimist;

Fire, Water, Aire, Earth, to us presents,

The Names and Natures of foure Elements:

But Alchimy (prepoiterously) doth strive

To Multiply those Elements to five:

From Ioves and Mercuries quicke influence,

The Alcimist will draw a Quintessence;

With which extraction he a Stone will mould,

That shall turne Tin, Brasse, Steele, & Lead, to gold.

He doth professe that Stone shall lengthen health,

Prolong our lives, give us aboundant wealth:

But divers wealthy men his skill have try'd,

And as they fooles did live, they Beggers dy'd.

Could he helpe others he would helpe himselfe,

To that impossible ne're purchast pelfe;

For commonly he's in a greasie Coate,

Old Hat and Boots, and cannot change a Groat:

[Page] Yet promiseth with more gold to possesse us,

Than Romane Cressus had, or Lidian Cressus.

But yet from these his golden hopes to feed,

He borrowes mony still to serve his need:

He daily tries new-found experiments,

Soape, Stibium, Salt, and such ingredients

As is Argentum vive; Ordure, Urin,

Coales, Crusibles, Lead, Allom, poysonous Vermin,

For he hath Guelded all the Philosophers,

And with their onely Stone hee'le fill our Coffers.

The Ridling and sophisticated Names

Are most mysterious Dog-tricks, or May-games;

For when the Furnace, or the Crusible,

Begins to worke, or seeme conducible,

He calls it the Greene Lyon, and anon,

As soone as that first foame is Presto, gone;

Then bubbles up the Fleeing Heart apace,

To whom the Fleeing Eagle straight gives Chase:

Next Master Alchimist puts in his Toole,

And then amaine huffs up the Dauncing Foole.

The Dragons Tayle mounts next in Fog and froath,

And next the swolne Toade, in a Bumble-broath:

Last comes the Crowes head, (ugly blacke to see).

More blacke ten times than any blacke can be.

Then mounts the fume unto the Azure Skye,

And straight drops downe the Seale of Mercury;

And presently the golden worke is done,

(Almost as neare as when 'twas first begun)

[Page] For then the Stone invisibly doth fall,

Which (if he could but see) would make us all.

But least we chance to see it and not know it,

What private markes it beares Ile plainely shew it;

The substance of it is nor Fire, nor Water,

Nor Earth, or Aire, nor Elementall matter;

It hath no shape or collour, nor is fram'd

Like any thing that is unnam'd, or nam'd:

'Tis neither light, or heavy, soft, nor hard,

Nor sharpe, or blunt, flat, ovall, round, or squar'd:

It is not sweet, nor doth it stinke out-right,

'Tis not unpleasing, yet gives no delight.

This is the Stone which many men desire,

And he that finds it shall have for his hire

Twelve Hogs-heads fill'd; and 24. Buckets,

Of Peices, Royalls, Nobles, and of Duckets:

Thus to its owne and unknowne worth alone,

I leave this Sterrill (Gold begetting) Stone.

6. Satyre. The Hypocrite.

ANd now my Muse hath got an appetite,

To touch a little of the Hypocrite;

But let not any Reader thinke that I

The name of knowing Zeale doe villifie:

[Page] For these my lines shall not touch any man,

That (wrong) doth beare the Náme of Puritan;

No doubt, but many people well affected,

(Are with that Ieering Title much dejected)

Who will not sweare or lye presumptuously,

And when they erre, they erre unwillingly;

Who would be just in all they doe or say,

And know the Sunday from a common Day;

Who are conformable to Church and State,

And have no minds to change or innovate:

Who in their Callings labour, and take paine,

And will doe no man wrong for earthly gaine:

Who doe (for Conscience sake) obey command,

And deale no further then they understand;

Whose faiths are known by workes, & doing good,

Such men are of a blessed Brother-hood.

Some such there are, whose number is too small,

And happy were all men to be so all.

For when the Ruffian, or prophane wretch sweares

Abusing God and man, with scoffes and Ieeres

If one that's Civill mildly doe reprove them,

The Divell their Tutor presently doth move them

To be in Choller; straight to sweare and ban,

And call an honest man a Puritan:

And thus some Rascalls hold no man in price,

Except he be excusive given to vice;

But those I meane are such, whose holy fits,

Approves them to be haire-brain'd Hypocrits:

[Page] Who with a heav'd up hand, and white of eye

Will doe a man a mischiefe zealously:

They'le pray for Pardons for sins done and past,

Praise temperance, yet will sooner hang than fast;

And on Religious points will stand most stoutly,

And in conclusion cozen men devoutly.

Their best Opinions are like Weather-cockes,

Their wits are vapours, and their heads are blocks;

Their Braines are puft, & stuft with windy bubbles,

Their Concord's discord, & their peace is troubles.

Caine Sacrific'd, and Iesabell did fast,

Prince Absolom some silly fooles embrac'd;

So Iudas kist, when as to kill he meant,

So Pilate wash'd, yet was corruptly bent:

So Annanias brought his faigned gift,

So Sathan alledg'd Scripture for a shift.

These were all Hypocrites, and so are they

That wrest, to serve God the contrary way.

For many a soule (by them prevented) wanders

In misty Laborinths, and crook'd Meanders:

One would have this, and th'other would have that

And most of them would have they know not what

For were we bound unto their approbation,

We should have a mad fashion'd Congregation.

Nor doe I thinke it meete the Church should crave

Their wisedoms counsell, what is fit to have,

Their long Tantologie, extemporary prating,

Their babling repetitions, oft repeating,

[Page] Are but meere froath, without Pith, weake, ungrounded,

And these have many a Conscience prick'd, and wounded;

For they will turne a Wind-mill to a Cow,

And of a rotten Cloake-bag make a Plow.

Ixion, so his time in vaine did wast,

When (stead of Iuno) he a Cloud embrac'd;

Upon which Cloud the Centaures be begot,

And such strange Monsters breeds their zeale so hot:

Or like the fellow in a Moone-shine Night,

Saw in a Pond or Poole, her likenesse bright;

And Riding in to give his Mare some drinke,

The Moone behind a Coale-black cloud did shrink:

He (being drunke) began to storme and stare,

And swore the Moone was swallow'd by his Mare.

Such are their reall Arguments, and such

Are all their points wherein they stand so much:

They most dispute whereas their cheere is b [...]st,

And (in Plum-broath) they Church & State detest:

Of sacred Scriptures (bet wixt every bit)

They Coyne interpretations with their wit;

These seperatists, the Alchimists would play,

And turne our golden peace to Drosse or Clay.

'Tis not their Organizing in the Nose,

Their hate to Verse, or love to tedious Prose:

Their seorne, like dust that's cast against the Wind,

Which in their blind eyes fals & makes more blind

[Page] For Envy's like an Arrow shot upright,

Which on the Shooters heads with danger light.

Thus they by Owle-light still doe misse the marke,

And like poore Currs against the Moone they barke:

For sure small credit to that man belongs

That can be wrong'd, with bablers Pens or tongues.

Awake my Muse, shake off this filthy scum,

These dreggs, who altogether are a summe

Of many Simples and ingredients;

Of innovating disobedience.

I wish them all with holinesse endow'd,

To be more knowing zealous, and lesse proud:

And as for their good sakes these lines are pend,

I leave them either to amend or end.

[Page]

[figure]

7. Satyre. The Whoore.

[Page]

Ile tell thee who's a Whoore; that thing's a Whoore

Which whilst men most embrace they most abhorre,

PRiz'd in the heate of Blood, at costly rate,

A Dish we feed on, surfet, and then hate:

They Trafficke for diseases, wast their youth

In woefull Riot; without wit, or truth.

They sell their soules an heritage to win,

An Heritage in Hell, deare bought with sin:

Put case they compasse age; what's their reward?

Th'are old, poore, scorn'd, & beg without regard.

They would repent them, then know not the way;

Such are all Whoores, who wilfully doe stray:

There hath bin Whoors much honour'd, Whoores of State;

Who bought Damnation at a deare, deare rate:

And 'tis a difference, which offendeth more,

Either a Coached, or a Carted Whoore?

[Page] [...]omprous whore may rustle some small time;

[...]t State and Pompe extenuates no Crime.

8. Satyre. Of degenerate Honour.

HOnour is not compil'd in Ranke, or File,

Or Measure, for no man hath reacht that Stile

But by supernall favour; and from thence

True Honour hath it's onely influence:

For S [...]rdanapulus was mighty once,

Yet by Voluptious frailty was a Dunce:

Then what an Asse is he that hath a State

Either by his Inheritance, or Fate,

And squanders it, and dribbles it away,

To be his Honours and his House decay:

He that would be a Gentleman compleat,

Should every way seeke to be good as great;

And he that is not so, himselfe doth plunge,

And is the curse of man, and Satans spunge:

Of Fatterers he may have a mighty shole,

And in the World may boare a mighty hole;

[Page] And when he sinkes into that hole he bore [...],

He dyes unpittied; no man him deplores.

God is true Honour-giver, and will still

Defend it with his Eviternall Will.

And let the sacred Sisters all fore-fend,

That any word should from my Muse be pend

That may be tooke a misse; for I perswade

My selfe, that none will kick, except a Jade:

I know I play the foole in every line,

But no wise man will set his wit to mine;

Nor let a Scholler to a Sculler be

An opposite, though different in Degree;

For though I touch'd at damned pride before,

Perhaps I should be proud if I had more.

I blame the man that's covetous, but why?

Because I want his precious Treasury.

I jeere the Quack-salver, and Mountebanke,

Alas I cannot reach unto their Ranke.

I scoffe the maund ring Knave, and Alchimist,

Yet I (perhaps) would faine doe what I list.

I mocke the Hypocrite, yet I confesse

I (Hypocrittically) still transgresse:

And I am stark naught, so that Tongue nor Pen,

Can make me better than the worst of men.

Information about this book

Title statement

A most horrible, terrible, tollerable, termagant satyre most fresh and newly made, and prest in print, and if it bee not lik'd, the Divells in't.

Taylor, John, 1580-1653.

Edition statement

1639

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A13471

ID [STC]

STC 23774.5

ID [STC]

ESTC S111394

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99846751

ID [PROQUEST]

99846751

ID [VID]

11738

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A13471)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 11738)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1643:6)

Source

— A most horrible, terrible, tollerable, termagant satyre most fresh and newly made, and prest in print, and if it bee not lik'd, the Divells in't., Taylor, John, 1580-1653..

Extent

[2+], 33, [1] p. : ill. (woodcut)

Printed by Thomas Cotes,. [London :: 1639]. (In verse.) (Title from caption title, A4r; only known copy lacks all before A3.) (Imprint from STC.) (Caption title, A3r: To his friend Iohn Taylor, the ingenious poeta aquaticus, and the author of this most wholesome following black-mouth'd biting satire.) (Reproduction of a photostat of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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