The sculler rowing from Tiber to Thames with his boate laden with a hotch-potch, or gallimawfry of sonnets, satyres, and epigrams. With an addition of pastorall equiuocques or the complaint of a shepheard. By Iohn Taylor.

The sculler rowing from Tiber to Thames with his boate laden with a hotch-potch, or gallimawfry of sonnets, satyres, and epigrams. With an addition of pastorall equiuocques or the complaint of a shepheard. By Iohn Taylor.

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE RIGHT WORshipfull and worthy fauourer of learning, my singular good Maister, Sir WILLIAM WAAD Knight, Liefetenant of his Mties Tower of London, your poore seruant Iohn Taylor, consecrates this his first Inuentions: wishing You, and Yours, all happines temporall and eternall.

To the right worshipfull and my euer respected, Mr. IOHN MORAY Esquire.

To my deere respected friend Mr. Beniamin Iohnson.

To my louing friend IOHN TAYLOR.

To the one and onely water-Poet and my friend Iohn Taylor.

In laudem Authoris.

§

To my louing friend Iohn Taylor.

To my friend both by water and land IOHN TAYLOR.

To my louing friend IOHN TAYLOR.

Prologue to the READER.

TO TOM CORIET.

The Author in his owne defence.

To the whole kennell of AntiChrists hounds, Priests, friers, monks, and Iesuits, mastiffs, mongrells, Islands, Spanniells, blood-hounds, bobtailetike, or foysting-hound: the Sculler sends greeting.

Epigram 1.

Epigram 2.

Epigram 3.

Epigram 4.

Epigram 5.

Epigram 6.

Epigram 7.

Epigram 8.

Epigram 9.

Epigram 10

Epigram 11.

Epigram 12.

Epigram 13.

Epigram 14.

Epigram 15.

Epigram 16.

Epigram 17.

Epigram 18.

Epigram 19.

Epigram 20.

Epigram 21.

Epigram 22.

Epigram 23.

Epigram 24.

Epigram 25.

The beliefe of a Romish Catholike. Epig. 26.

Epigram 27.

Epigram 28.

Epigram 29.

To his aproued good friend Mr. Robert Branthwayt.

To his well esteemed friend Mr. Maximilian Waad.

To my friend Mr. William Sherman.

Epigram 1.

Epigram 2.

Epigram 3.

Epigram 4.

Epigram 5.

Epigram 6.

Epigram 7.

Epigram 8.

Epigram 9.

Epigrom 10.

Epigrum 12.

Epigram 12.

Epigram 13,

Epigram 14.

Epigram 15.

Epigram 16.

Epigram 17.

Epigram 18.

Epigram 19.

Epigram 20.

Epigram 21.

Epigram 22.

Epigram 23.

Epigram 24.

Epigram 25.

Epigram 26.

Epigram 27.

Epigram 28.

Epigram 29.

Epigram 30.

Epigram 31.

Epigram 32.

Epigram 33.

Epigram 34.

Epigram 35.

Epigram 36.

Epigram 37.

Epigram 38.

Epigram 39.

Epigram 40.

Epigram 41.

Epigram 42.

Epigram 43.

Epigram 44.

Epigram 45.

Epigram 46.

Satire

Satire.

Pastorall Equinocks, or a Shepheards complaint.

Epitaph.

Sonnet: In trust lies treason.

Death with the foure Elements.

Epilogue.

§

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

THE[?] SCVLLER, Rowing from TIBER to THAMES with his Boate laden with a hotch-potch, or Gallimawfry of Sonnets, Satyres, and Epigrams.

With an addition of Pastorall Equiuocques or the complaint of a Shepheard.

By IOHN TAYLOR.

Sum primus homo, Vis ire mecum[?] Remis? Est mihi proxima [...] imbe[?].

Read, and then iudge.

Printed at London by E. A. & are to be solde at the Pide-bull neere St. Austins gate. 1612.

TO THE RIGHT WORshipfull and worthy fauourer of learning, my singular good Maister, Sir WILLIAM WAAD Knight, Liefetenant of his Mties[?] Tower of London, your poore seruant Iohn Taylor, consecrates this his first Inuentions: wishing You, and Yours, all happines temporall and eternall.

[Page]

[Page]

S Such is the course of this inconstant life,

I In which we mortall creatures draw our breath:

R Reason is ruld by Rage, and Peace by Strife,

W Wit is a slaue to Will, and Life to Death.

I I in these fickle, fleeting, fading times,

L Liue and enioy the bounty of your fauors,

L Let me I pray', and my vnworthy rimes,

I Intreat your kinde protection of my labors.

A As in a storme the Sheepe to shelters runne,

M My Muse vnto your Patronage doth flie,

W Whereas she hopes all Enuies stormes to shunne,

A And liue despight of scandals callumnie.

A All my endeauours then shall me perswade,

D Dreadles that I through greater streames will wade.

Your humble seruant most obesequious IOHN TAYLOR.

To the right worshipfull and my euer respected, Mr. IOHN MORAY Esquire.

[Page]

OF all the wonders this vile world includes,

I muse how [...] such high fauors gaine!

How adulation cunningly deludes

Both high and lowe, from Scepter to the Swayne:

But yet if thou by flattry couldst obtaine

More then the most that is possest by men,

Thou canst not tune thy tongue to falshoods straine,

Yet with the best canst vse both tongue and pen.

Thy sacred learning can both scan and ken

The hidden things of Nature, and of Art,

Tis thou hast raisd me from obliuions den,

And made my Muse from obscure sleepe to start.

Vnto thy wisdomes censure I commit,

This first borne issue of my worthles wit.

I T.

To my deere respected friend Mr. Beniamin Iohnson.

THou canst not dye, for though the stroake of death

Depriues the world of thy worst earthly part:

Yet when thy corps hath banished thy breath,

Thy liuing Muse shall still declare thy Art.

The fatall Sisters and the blessed Graces,

Were all thy friends at thy natiuity:

And in thy minde the Muses tooke their places,

Adoring thee with rare capacitie.

And all the Worthies of this worthy land,

Admires thy wondrous all admired worth,

Then how should I that cannot vnderstand

Thy worth, thy worthy worthinesse set forth.

Yet beare the boldnesse of the honest Sculler,

Whose worthlesse praise can fill thy praise no fuller.

I. T.

To my louing friend IOHN TAYLOR.

[Page]

COuld my vnpractisd Pen aduance thy name,

Thou shouldst be seated on the wings of Fame.

For from thy toylesome Oare I wonder I,

How thy inuention flowes so iocundly!

Not hauing dreamd on faire Pernassus Hill,

With fruitfull numbers to inrich thy Quill.

Nor hauing washt in that Pegassion Fount,

Which lends the wits such nimblenes to mount,

VVith tickling rapture, on poetique straines,

On Thames the Muses floate that fills thy braines.

Thy happy wit producde thy happy rimes,

VVhich shall commend thee vnto after times.

And worthily enrole thy name mongst those,

VVhose Temples are begirt with Lawrell bowes.

For, (sooth to say) a worke I saw not yet,

Lesse helpt with learning and more grac'd with wit.

Then spight of Enuy, and Detractions scorne,

Though Art thou wantst, thou art a Poet borne:

And as a friend for names sake, Ile say thus,

Nec scombros metuentia, Carmina nec Thus.

Henry Taylor.

To the one and onely water-Poet and my friend Iohn Taylor.

FResh water Soldiers saile in shallow streames,

And mile-end Captaines venture not their liues:

A braine distempred brings forth idle dreames,

And guilded Sheathes haue sildome golden Kniues.

And painted faces none but fooles bewitch:

Thy Muse is plaine; but witty, faire, and rich.

[Page]

When thou didst first to Agganippe floate,

Without thy knowledge (as I surely thinke)

The Nayades did swim about thy boate

And brought thee brauely, to the Muses brinke.

[...] Grace, and Nature filling vp thy Fountaine,

Thy muse came flowing from Pernassus Mountaine.

So long may flowe as is to thee most fit,

The boundles Ocean, of a Poets wit.

I P.

In laudem Authoris.

VVIt, Reason Grace, Religion, Nature, Zeale.

Wrought all together in thy working braine.

And to thy worke did set this certaine [...],

Pure is the cullor that will take no staine.

What need I praise, the worke it selfe doth praise:

In words, in worth, in forme, and matter to,

A world of wits are working many waies,

But few haue done, that thou dost truly doe:

Was neuer Taylor shapt so fit a Coate,

Vnto the corps of any earthly creature,

As thou [...] made for that foule Romish Goate,

In true discription of his deuillish nature.

Besides, such matter of iudicious wit,

With queint [...] so fitting euery fancy,

As well may proue, who scornes and spights atit,

Shall either shew their folly or their franzie.

Then let the Popes Bulls roare, bell, booke and candle,

In all the Deuills circuit sound thy curse:

Whilst thou with truth dost euery try all handle,

God blesse thy worke and thou art nere the worse.

And while Hells friends their [...] foe doe proue thee

The Saints on earth, and God in heauen will loue thee.

Thy louing friend Nicholas Bretton.

§

§

VVHen Tybers siluer waues their Chanell leaue,

And louely Thames, hir wonted course for sake,

Then foule obliuion shall thy name bereaue,

Drenching thy glory in her hell-bred lake,

[Page]

But till that time this scourge of Popery:

Shall Crowne thy fame with immortallity.

Thy friend assured Maximilian Waad.

To my louing friend Iohn Taylor.

FErris gaue cause of vulgar wonderment,

When vnto Bristow in a Boate he went:

Another with his Sculler ventered more,

That Row'd to Flushing from our English [...].

Another did deuise a woodden Whale,

Which vnto Callice, did from Douer saile,

Another, with his Oares and slender Wherry,

From London vnto Antwerpe o're did ferry.

Another, maugre fickle fortunes teeth,

Rowed hence to Scotland, and ariu'd at Leeth.

But thou hast made all these but triuiall things,

That from the Tower thy watry Sculler brings

To Hellicon: most sacred in account,

And so arriued at Pernassus Mount:

And backe returndladen with Poets wit,

With all the muses hands to witnesse it:

Who on their Sculler doth this praise bestowe,

Not such another on the Thames doth rowe.

Thy louing friend SAMVEL ROWLANDS.

To my friend both by water and land IOHN TAYLOR.

OFt hast thou traueld for me at thy Oare,

But neuer in this kind did'st toyle before.

To turne a Poet in this peeuish tyme,

Is held as rare as I should write in rime,

For one of thy profession, yet thy Art,

Surpasseth mine: this serues to paint that part,

[Page]

I meane thy Poetry which in thee lurkes,

And not thy sweating skill in water workes.

I cannot but commend thy Booke, and say

Thou merritst more then common Scullers pay:

Then whistle off thy Muse, and giue her scope.

That she may soundly cease vpon the Pope:

For well I see that he and many more,

Are dar'de by her (which scarce was done before)

Proceed (good Iohn) and when th'ast done this worke,

Feare not to venter trussing of the Turke.

I like thy vaine, I loue thee for those gifts

Of Nature in thee, far aboue the shifts

That others seeke plodding for what they pen,

Wit workes in thee, Learning in other men,

Thou natiue language we haue done thee wrong,

To say th'art not compleat, wanting the tongue

Cald Latine, for heere's one shall end the strife,

That neuer learned Latine word in's life.

Then to conclude, I truly must confesse,

Many haue more bene taught, hut learned lesse.

Thy assured friend R. B.

To my louing friend IOHN TAYLOR.

SOme say kinde Iacke thou art a Poet borne,

And none by Art; which thou maist iustly scorne:

For if without thy name they had but seene

Thy lines, thy lines had artificiall beene.

Opinion carries with it such a curse,

Although thy name makes not thy verse the worse.

If then this worke, variety affords

Of Tropes, of Figures, Epethets and words,

With no harsh accent, and with iudgement too,

I pray what more can Art or Nature doo?

So that in thee thy Genius doth impart,

To Artificiall Nature, Naturall Art.

Thy old assured friend IO. MORAY.

Prologue to the READER.

[Page]

GOod gentle Reader, if I doe transgresse,

I know you know, that I did ne're professe,

Vntill this time in Print to be a Poet:

And now to exercise my wits I show it.

View but the intralls of this little Booke,

And thou wilt say that I some paines haue tooke:

Paines mixt with pleasure, pleasure ioynd with paine,

Produc'd this issue of my laboring braine.

But now me thinkes I heare some enuious throat,

Say I should deale no further then my Boat:

And ply my Fare, and leaue my Epigram,

Minding, ne sutor vltra [...].

To such I answere, Fortune giues her gifts,

Some downe she throwes, & some to honor lifts:

Mongst whome from me, she hath with held her store

And giues me leaue to sweat it at my Oare,

And though with labour I my liuing purse,

Yet doe I thinke my lines no iot the worse:

For gold is gold, though buried vnder mosse,

And drosse in golden vessels is but drosse.

Iohn Taylor.

TO TOM CORIET.

VVHat matters for the place I first came from,

I am no Duncecomb, Coxecombe, Odcombe Tom

Nor am I like a Wooll-packe, cramd with Greeke,

Venus in Venice minded to goe seeke:

And at my backe returne to write a volume,

In memory of my wits Gargantua Colume.

[Page]

[...] [...] wits would [...] so adore me,

Nor like so many [...] runne before me:

But honest Tom, I enuy not thy state,

Theres nothing in thee worthy of my hate:

Yet I confesse thou hast an exeellent wit:

But that an idle braine doth harbor it.

Foole thou it at the Court, I on the Thames,

So farwell Odcomb Tom, God blesse King Iames.

The Author in his owne defence.

THere is a crew of euer carping spirits,

Who merrit nothing good, yet hate good merits:

[...] wrings his Iawes awry, and then cries mew,

And that I stole my lines [...] plainely shew.

Thou addle headed Asse, thy braines are muddy,

Thy witles wit, vncapable of studdy,

Deemst each inuention barren like to thine,

And what thou canst not mend thou wilt repine.

Loe thus to wauering Censures torturing Racke,

With truth and confidence my Muse doth packe.

Let Zoylus and let Momus doe their worst,

Let Enuy and Detraction swell and burst:

In spight of spight, and [...] disdaine,

In [...] of any carping Critticks braine,

Like to a Poast Ile runne through thicke and thin,

To scourge iniquity and spurreg all sin.

You worthy fauorites of wisdomes lore,

Onely your fouors doth my Muse implore:

If your good stomackes these harsh lines disgest,

I careles bid a rush for all the rest.

My lines first parents (be they good or ill)

Was my vnlearned braine, and barren quill.

To the whole kennell of AntiChrists hounds, Priests, friers, monks, and Iesuits, mastiffs, mongrells, Islands, Spanniells, blood-hounds, bobtailetike, or foysting-hound: the Sculler sends greeting.

[Page]

Epigram 1.

CVrse, exorcize, with beads, with booke, & bell

Poluted shauelings: rage and doe your worst:

Vse coniurations till your bellies burst,

With many a Nigromanticke mumbling spell,

I feare you not, nor all your friends that fell

With Lucifer: ye damned dogs that durst

Deuise that thundring treason most accurst,

Whose like before was neuer hatchd in hell:

Halfe men, halfe deuils, who neuer dreamd of good,

To you from faire and sweetly sliding Thames,

A popomasticke Sculler war proclaimes,

As to the suckers of imperiall blood.

An Anti-Iesuit Sculler with his pen,

Defies your Babell Beast, and all his den.

I. T.

Epigram 2.

ROome, now approaches thy [...],

Thy Anti-Christian Kingdome downe must tumble,

Like Nimrods proud cloud-pearcing Babilon,

Thy hell-hatchd pride, despight thy heart must humble.

In scorne of dambd equiuocation,

My lines like thunder through thy Regions rumble.

[Page]

Downe in the dust must lye thy painted glory,

For now Irowe and write thy tragicke story.

Epigram 3.

VVHen God had all things out of nothing fram'd,

And man had named all things that are nam'd:

God shewed to man the way he should behaue him,

What ill would dam him, or what good would saue him.

All Creatures that the world did then containe,

Were all made subiects to mans Lordly raigne.

Faire Paradice was princely ADAMS walke,

Where God himselfe did often with him talke:

At which the Angels, enuious and proud,

Striu'd to ascend aboue the highest [...]:

And with the mighty God to make compare,

And of his glory to haue greatest share:

Because they saw Gods loue to man so great,

They striud to throw their maker from his seat.

But he, whose power is All-sufficient,

Did headlong hurle them from Heauens battlement:

And for with enuious pride they so did swell,

They lost Heauens glory for the paines of Hell.

In all this time man liuing at his ease,

His wife nor he not knowing to displease

Their glorious maker, till the sonne of night

Full fraught with rage, and poyson bursting spight,

Finding alone, our antient Grandam EVE,

With false perswasions makes her to beleeue,

If she would eat the fruit she was forbidden,

She should Gods secrets know, were from her hidden.

Supposing all was true, the Serpent told,

They both to ADAM straightway did vnfold,

This treacherous horrid vile soule-killing treason,

And he ambitious, past the bounds of reason,

(To his posterities sole detriment)

Doth to the Woman and the Fiend consent.

[Page]

Yet Adam neuer had the Deuill obayd,

Had he not had the woman for his ayd.

Loe thus the sex that God made, man to cherish,

Was by the Deuill intic'te to cause him perish.

Sathan supposing he had wonne the field,

(In making man to his obedience yeeld)

Poore Adam now in corps and minde deiected,

From head to foote with shamefull sinne infected:

Is now a slaue to sinne, the Deuill, and death,

Dreading the danger of th'almighties wrath.

From Eden banisht, from Gods presence thrust,

And all the earth being for his crime accurst:

Opprest with griefe and selfe consuming care,

[...] at the brim of bottomeles dispaire.

Yet God in mercy thinking of his frailty,

Though sinnefull man to him had broken fealty;

Did promise he would send his onely Sonne,

To satisfy for faults by man misdone.

At last he came, in his appoynted time,

And on his faultles shoulders tooke our crime:

And like a malefactor death he fusferd,

And once for all, himselfe himselfe hath offerd.

And yet the Deuill will not be satisfide,

(Although the Sonne of God for sinners dide)

But dayly hellish damned enterprises,

His ministers and he gainst man deuises,

Vnder the shelter of Religions cloake,

Seditiously he doth the world prouoke,

Gainst God in traytrous maner to rebell,

To amplifie his euerlasting hell,

Attempting mankinde still by fraud or forcc,

His soule from his redeemer to diuorce:

And yet not man alone must feele his sting,

But he dares venter on our heauenly King,

Whose power, though Sathan knowes is euerlasting,

Yet after forty dayes and nights long fasting,

[Page]

Thinking him weake, attempts now to inuade him,

And with illusions seeking to perswade him:

Carries our Sauiour vp vnto a hill,

And told him if he would obey his will,

In adoration to fall downe before him,

He of this worlds great glory would so store him,

That he should Lord and Master be of all,

If he in reuerence would before him fall.

Christ knowing him to be the roote of euill,

With God-like power commaunds, auoyd thou deuill:

Tis writ, thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God,

But serue and feare the fury of his rod.

Sathan perceiuing all his labour lost,

Runnes through the world more swifter then a post:

Proclaimes large kingdomes, and a tryple Crowne,

To him that in his reuerence would fall downe.

Ambitious thirst of sickle fading fame,

Did quickely mindes of worldly men inflame:

Making them dreame on pleasures transitory,

And to esteeme earths pompe aboue heauens glory.

This made the Pope, with poysnous pride infusde,

T accept those honors Christ before refusde:

Now hath he wonne great fame, on this condition,

That fore the deuill he fall in base submission:

So hauing won this great magnificence,

To countermaund the earths circumference:

The Idiot World he proudly ouer-swayes,

Vnder the name of heauens immortall Kayes,

Ore all the Globe he raignes as Lord & King,

And to Hells Goate-folde aye doth millions bring

Of soules, seduc'd with buzard blinded zeale,

From men besotted he doth honor steale.

And yet with his effrontit shamles face,

Seemes to commaund the Deuill that gaue him place.

A haynous fault in my dull vnderstanding,

The seruant o're his Lord should be commanding:

[Page]

But yet I thinke tis but for pollicy,

More to [...] th'infernall monarchy:

He seemes to hate the Deuill, he most doth serue,

Else would the world from Romes obedience swerue,

And leaue the Pope and papists in the lurch,

And then might Sathan whistle for a Church.

The Ile of Brittaine hath perceiu'd their tricks,

And in rebellion gainst the Pope she kicks:

For whome they haue inuented hell-hatcht plots,

Quite to extirp the English and the Scots.

I wot not which of Rome or hell roard lowder,

But they had like t'haue peperd vs with powder.

Yea all estates from Scepter to the Clowne

Should topsie turuy all be tumbled downe.

Without respect of person, sex, or age,

All had their doome, t'abide the Romane rage.

But he that by his sacred selfe had sworne,

To guard his Church, did laugh them all to scorne:

For when those vassels of eternall night,

Thought all secure, then God brought all to light,

Casting their painted glory in the dust,

That any power besides his power doth trust:

Leauing their Corps a prey for Crowes and Kites,

That brauely so for Signior Sathan fights.

But in this matter Ile no longer trauell,

Least want of water make my Ship to grauell:

Knowing theres many wits of farre more worth,

That to the life hath limd this treason forth:

But Ile conclude as I hegan before,

Because that Christ would not the Deuill adore,

Christ lost this glorious worldly pompous raigne,

Which happy losse the haples Pope did gaine.

Epigram 4.

HOw weakely is that weake Religion grounded,

That thinks the Church on Peters corps is sounded?

[Page]

The spouse of Christ is built on faiths firme rocke,

Which not the fury of hells direfull shock,

Though all the fiends in troopes doe her assaile,

Math. 16.

Yet gainst Gods power their force cannot preuaile.

If the corps of Peter [...] the Churches foú dation, as the Papists [...], thē how [...] the spouse of our Sauiour haue done if the Apostle Peter had neuer ben borne

Peters confessing Christ Gods true begotten,

Is sure the Churches ground, but Peter's rotten.

Or else if Peter neuer had had life,

Through want of him Christ neuer had had wife.

For tis an Article of faith profound,

To know St. Peter for the Churches ground.

And who denies it shall haue fire and rope,

Beleeue me Reader or goe aske the Pope.

But yet I muse in what place of this earth,

Gods Church did stand before Saint Peters birth?

Epigram 5.

WHen as our Sauiour to the Temple went,

To tell the message that his father sent:

And finding there a rude vnruly tout,

That bought and sold: he angry, beat them out,

And ouerthrew their tressels and their tables,

And made them packe away with all their bables:

And further sayd (what all true hearts beleeues)

This house was made for prayer, no den for theeues.

Those marchants thus whipt from their market place,

Practisd reuenge gainst Christ for this disgrace.

And more, to strength their power, ioynd with the Pop.

Who by his lawles lawes hath giuen them scope,

That in the Church they still should buy and sell

Both God and deuill, Heauen, Purgatory, Hell.

Now heeres the ods, Christ out the Pediars thrust,

And stayd himselfe there, preaching what was iust.

And for reuenge the hawty Romane Priest,

Hath tane the Pedlars in, and thrust out Christ.

[Page]

Epigram 6.Tis more the I can beleeue that the Deuil hath power to elect ā Officer for God.

IT is a question farre beyond my Logick,

How those that haue the Popedome won by Magick,

Can be Liefetenants vnto Christ our Sauiour,

Being knowne for hell-hounds of most dambd behauiour

Being of the Deuils placing or displacing, the Pope must needs bee the Deuils deputy & not [...]

Then since the deuill hath the Pope created,

His Vicar must he be that there him seated:

T would make a wiser head then mine to muse,

That God should like the man the Deuill doth chuse.

Epigram 7.

A Prouerb old, where had the Deuill the Fryer?

Where had the Deuill the Frier but where he was?

The Deuill with the Frier, sits in the quire,

The Fryer with the Deuill sayes and sings Masse:

The Deuill and the Frier are nere asunder,

The Fryer to hate the Deuill is more then wonder.

Epigram 8.

COnferring with a Romish Pharisie,

Who voyd of grace [...] this heresy,

I my selfe did talk with such a fellow, and if occasion serue I can produce him.

That he the law of God had neuer broken,

Nor neuer ill had done, nor ill had spoken.

I gaue his Antichristian faith the lye,

And told him that for him Christ did not dye.

For he did suffer onely for their sinne,

Who were insnared in the deuills Iynne.

And as for him that neuer had transgrest,

Twere good to hang him now hee's at the best.

Epigram 9.

IT is an Art beyond the worke of Nature,

Tis a [...] piece of work for the pot to make the [...] ter.

The Pope should be Creator, and a creature:

Betwixt the Pope and God there's one thing od,

For though God all things made, the Pope makes God.

[Page]

Epigram 10

REligion's scatter'd into diuers sects,

If the deuil be true to his [...], these two principle axiomes[?] will to the end of the worlde, helpe the Papists at a dead life[?].

One likes one way for many sound respects,

Others like that way, others like another,

And what likes t'one, is loathed by the tother.

Yet each man deemes his own opinions right,

And each gainst other beares inated spight.

Amongst the rest the Romane Catholike,

Who scornes that his Religion sayle should strike

To any, since from it two vertues springs,

That they may eat their God, and kill their Kings:

By which maine maximes they doe strongly hope,

To the worlds Period to vphold the Pope.

Epigram 11.Tis reason a Shepheard should rule Rome because a Shepheard did build it: & How Romulus by great reason the Pope shold be of a woluish nature cause a wolfe was nurse to his first [...] for Romulus.

IT is no wonder though Romes regall sway,

Is by a Shepheard ruld with Lordly fame;

For antient records truly doth display;

How Romulus the Shepheard built the same:

And how his brother Remus and himselfe,

In Tybers ruthles waues, ydrencht and duckt,

When infant misery was all their pelfe,

A rauening wolfe, most mother-like they suckt:

From whome doth spring as from a flowing gulfe,

Romes Priest, and Prince, a Shepheard, and a Wolfe.

Epigram 12.

TVmulteous thoughts within my breast doth struggle,

Thogh al the scriptures doe assure that the corporall presence of Christ is in heaven, from whence hee will not come [...], till [...] comes to the generall iudgement: yet a [...] Priest will dayly take vpon him to command him downe, [...] iuggle him into the [...], [...] a cake or a piece of bread.

To thinke how finely popish Priests can iuggle:

And make the world beleeue, a wafer[?] Cake

Is that Creator that did all things make:

Or that the sinne-polluted bald-crownd Priest,

With coniurations, can create his Christ,

When our beliefe doth plainely testify,

He sits at Gods right hand in maiesty,

[Page]

From whence in humane forme he will not come,

Till quicke and dead shall all abide his dome,

What fooles are they then thinkes the priest & Baker,

With impious hands makes their immortall maker.

Epigram 13.Alexander the [...]. [...] [...] [...] [...] were [...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...]. But if his holynes had [...] in [...] [...] hee could not haue [...] in such a matter.

NOt all the sophistry of Aristotle,

Cannot perswade me but the Pope did erre,

When he and's sonne mistooke the poysned bottle,

[...] error sure what euer they inferre.

O't had bene good then, both for him and's heire,

He had bene halterd fast in Peters Chayre.

Epigram 14.

THe warlike Emperors before Christ come,

Heauen, Earth, Sea and land, being all [...] before these latter times by the Emperors and the godly Bishop, There remaines only hell for the Pope to make a lawfull claime vnto.

Subdude the world, both sea & land to Rome.

Then afterwards the Heauens, their Bishops wonne,

By preaching truly Gods immortall sonne.

Heauen, Earth, and Sea, being taken in the prime,

What rests now for the Popes this latter time?

Since of the heauens and earth they loose their part,

They will haue hell despight the deuils hart.

Epigram 15.

CHrists Church in no wayes is the Church of Rome,

For Paul sayes, in the latter times should come

That Church that is so oposite to the doctrine of Christ cānot be Christs wife but the deuills vvhore.

Apostats that the [...] should quite for sake,

That lyes and fables should Religion make:

Affirming meats and matrimony euill,

Which Paul doth call the doctrine of the deuill.

Then since the Pope and all his shaueling rout,

What Christ commaunds they wilfully thrust out,

I with my betters must conclude this doome,

The Deuils deere drab must be the Church of Rome.

[Page]

Epigram 16.

O Yes, if any man would know a place,

God made [...], the [...], & the Sea, and all things [...] in them: the Pope made Purgatory without Gods Ieaue or know ledge therefore tis no reason that God should [...] any thing to do there [...] the Popes leaue.

Where God himselfe hath neither power nor might,

Where as th'almighty neuer shew'd his face:

Where words, [...] swords can neither talke nor fight,

O such a placeles place is Purgatory,

Created by the Pope without Gods leaue,

To [...] his Antichristian glory,

And all the world with cunning to deceaue,

Where as the Pope hangs, drawes, condemnes, & iudges,

Commits, acquits, sets free, or casts in thrall,

Whether he thousands sends, on heapes like drudges,

For in this no place, he is all in all:

And like a mighty three crownd priestly Prince,

With threats and bans he so the world bewitches:

In sending thither and recalling thence,

He gaines himselfe the Deuill and all for ritches.

Epigram 17.

THe Pope hath charge of heauens immortall keyes,

His holynes [...] ouer all the deuils in this life, but tis but borowed ware, [...] they paye him all his old score when he dies, & comes to [...] host.

And triple-headed Cerberus obeyes,

His triple Crowne, and who so ere he please,

He [...] to hell for paine, or heauen for ease.

He can commaund the Angells and the Fiends,

What pleases them for him or for his friends,

Like as a dog doth feare a flitch of bacon,

So his great name, Heauen, Earth, and Hell hath shaken.

Epigram 18.

VVHo dares affirme the Popes of Rome are Proud,

Amongst the Heretickes himselfe must shroud:

Or who dares say they'r giuen to Auarice,

In selling heauen and hell for summes of price?

[Page]

Or who dares speake such words of trechery,

To say the Pope is giuen to Letchery?

Or who is he, dares be so impious,

Seauen goodly vertues, natu rally [...] in his [...] [...].

To say his holynes is Enuious?

Or [...], for feare of euerlasting scath,

Dares once accuse his holynes of Wrath?

Or who is he that dares once veresy,

The Pope doth vse excessiue Gluttony?

Or who dares say that like a droane or moath,

Like an vnpreaching Priest he liues by Sloath?

He that against him this dares iustifie,

Is a plaine Protestant, and such am I.

Epigram 19.

MAy it be calld intollerable pride,

For man to sit in the Almighties seate?

Or on mens shoulders pompously to ride,

His holynes neuer learned this of Christ, nor yet of [...].

To terrifie the World with thundring threate?

To weare a three-pilde Crowne vpon his head?

To haue both Kings and Princes at his becke?

Whose Horse by mighty Potentates is [...],

Who proudly footes vpon the Emperors necke?

If trickes like these for pride may be alloud,

Then I conclude the Pope must needs be proud.

Epigram 20.

IF it be couetous for gripple gaine,

To sell [...] Heauens, the Earth, yea God himselfe,

If you will know the [...] of [...], any ordinary priest can tell you as well as [...] [...] can tell a peny is the price of a pot of ale.

To dispossesse Kings from their lawfull raigne,

To cram his coffers with vnlawfull pelfe.

To pardon sinnes for money, more then pitty:

Nay more, to pardon sinnes that are to come:

To maintaine whores, & Stewes in Towne and Citty:

Who yearely payes the Pope a countles sum,

Who takes great interest, puts great sums to vse,

Tis couetousnes I thinke without excuse.

[Page]

Epigram 21.

IS it not [...] sensuall appetite,

[...] [...] [...] [...] [...].

The [...] to make a Strumpet of his Childe?

Or is not Letchery an Epithite,

For him that hath his fathers bed defilde?

For him that hath deflourd Virginity?

That hath defilde the Damsell and the Dam

[...] respect of Consanginity?

That like a Wolfe hath spoyld both Ewe and Lamb?

This may be tearmd incestuous Luxury,

And yet his Holynes not wrongd thereby.

Epigram 22.

HE like a God that gouernes in the world,

[...] [...] [...] [...] [...].

That [...] each mans honor but his owne:

He that sedition through the earth hath hurld,

Whose Enuie hath great Kingdomes ouer throwne.

He that vngraues his foe thats once intombd,

For Enuy that he wrongd him whilst he liu'd,

And after death is [...] doombd,

To be of liueles senceles [...] depriu'd.

If this be true none will deny I hope,

That Enuy is ingrafted in the Pope.

Epigram 23.

HE whose fierce Wrath with bloody rage doth swell,

That takes delight in slaughtring Gods elect:

[...] [...] [...] [...] [...].

He that is sworne the Champion of Hell,

That Wrath and Murder onely doth effect:

He whose combustious all deuowring ire,

Depopulates and layes whole Empires waste,

Whose Wrath like a consuming quenchles fire,

Hath blessed peace from Christendome displac'te,

If I should need one, [...] in wrath and murther,

His Holynes commaunds me seeke no further.

[Page]

Epigram 24.

WHo dares for Gluttony the Pope accuse,

It is a [...] [...] [...] [...], to [...] flesh & [...] all [...] of fish, & other delicates, which they cause to swim in their [...] with the strongest wine, which makes [...] Holynes & all is crew, to look as leane as so many Brawnes, styed vp against Christ mas.

Or gainst voluptuous dyet make's complaints?

His Holynes so many Fasts doth vse,

As [...], and fasting dayes, and Eeues of Saints.

Yet where Pride, [...], and Auarice are found,

Heart gnawing Enuy, and fell murdering Wrath,

There rauenous Gluttony must needs abound,

Else other vices will be out of breath.

For Papists fasts are generally more deare,

Then feasts of [...] with all their cheare.

Epigram 25.

THose

I meane the 7. deadly sinnes.

Liberall Sciences, in number seauen,

Began with Pride, and ends with drowsie Sloath?

Yet Christs commaund vnto th' Apostles giuen,

Was

His [...] knowes if [...] should feede [...] Sheepe of Christ [...] such [...] [...] he [...], they [...] soone finde out his [...].

feede my Sheepe that faith in them haue growth.

Now I suppose the feeding of Christs flocke,

Is truly preaching of his facred word,

Which word's the Key that opes the heauenly Locke,

Which

If the Pope should [...] [...] [...] to [...] drawne, it weld [...] his [...], & his [...]. both.

Sword and Word his Holynes doth hoord,

Which drawn, cuts his throat and the Deuills both,

For feare of which he lets it sleepe in sloath.

The beliefe of a Romish Catholike. Epig. 26.

I Doe beleeue the holy Pope of Rome,

I would wishe that this were not so, [...] [...] [...] stand long in [...] [...] to [...] [...] for [...] [...] Authors [...] [...] [...] & [...] [...] [...].

Is Lord of Scriptures, Fathers, Church and all:

Of Counsells, of the world, whose dreadfull doome,

Can at his pleasure make all rise, or fall.

I doe beleeue though God [...] the same,

That I should worship Images, and Saints:

I hope by mine owne workes I Heauen may claime,

In tongues vnknowne, I must make prayers and plaints.

I doe belieue Christs body made of bread,

And may be eaten by Dogs, Cats, [...] Mice,

[Page]

Yet is a sacrifice for quicke and dead,

And may be bought and sold for rated price.

I further doe beleeue the Pope our Lord,

I thinke as you thinke, what thinke [...] [...]

Can at his pleasure all my sinnes forgiue.

I do beleeue at his commaunding word,

Subiects must Kings of liues & lands depriue.

Like as the Church belieues so I belieue:

By which I hope the heauens I shall atchieue.

Epigram 27.

LIke as the Vipers birth's his mothers bane,

So the Popes Full, hath bene the Emperors Wane:

The Empires Autumne was the popish Spring,

And Kings subiection made the Pope a King.

Then did his holines become a God,

When Princes children like, gan feare his rod.

Whilst earthly potentates their owne did hold

The Popes then shepheard like did keep their fold.

And fore the sacred truth should be orecome,

They manfully would suffer martyrdome.

But farwell Martyrs now, and welcome Miters,

For paineful Preachers now, contentius fighters

With blood or gold assends the papall chaire,

Vnder the title of St. Peters heire.

I thinke if truth were brought vnto a tryall,

The Pope is heire to Peter in denyall.

But want of penitence proclaimes him base,

A Bastard, not of Peters blessed race,

Vnles when Christ did call th'Apostle deuill,

Hee's bastard to the good, and heire to th'euill.

Epigram 28.

ME thinkes I heare a swarme of Romanists,

Reuile and curse, with candle booke, and bell:

Yea all the poleshorne crew of Antichrists,

Condemnes me all without remorse to hell.

[Page]

But I with resolution so doe arme me,

Their blessings doe no good, nor cursings harme me.

Epigram 29.

I That haue rowed from Tyber vnto Thames,

Not with a Sculler, but with Scull and Braines:

If none will pay my fare, the more their shames,

I am not first vnpaid that hath tane paines.

Yet Ile be bold if payment be delayd,

To say and sweare your Sculler is not payd.

To his aproued good friend Mr. Robert Branthwayt.

DEere friend to thee I owe a countles debt,

Which though I euer pay, will nere be payd:

Tis not base coyne, subiect to cankers fret,

If so, in time my debt would be defrayd.

But this my debt, I would haue all men knowe,

Is loue: the more I pay, the more I owe.

I. T,

To his well esteemed friend Mr. Maximilian Waad.

VVIt, Learning, Honesty, and all good parts,

Hath so possest thy body, and thy minde,

That curteously thou stealst away mens harts,

Yet gainst thy theft theres neuer none repinde.

My heart, that is my greatest worldly pelfe,

Shall euer be for thee as for my selfe.

I. T.

To my friend Mr. William Sherman.

THou that in idle adulating words,

Canst neuer please the humors of these dayes,

That greatest works with smallest speach affords,

Whose wit the rules of wisdomes lore obayes.

In few words then, I wish that thou maist be,

As well belou'd of all men as of me.

FINIS.

I. T.

[Page]

[Page]

Epigram 1.

ALl you that stedfastly doe fixe your eyes,

Vpon this idle issue of my braine,

Who voyd of any intricate disguise,

Discribes my meaning rusticall and plaine.

My Muse like Sisiphus with toylsome trade,

Is euer working, yet hath neuer done,

Though from the Romish Sea she well gan wade,

Yet is her labour as twere new begun.

For hauing at the Papists had a fling,

Great Brittaines vice, or Vertues now I sing.

Epigram 2.

THen cause I will not hug my selfe in sinne,

First with my selfe I meane for to begin.

Confessing that in me theres nothing good:

My vaines are full of sin-poluted blood,

Which al my corps infects with hel-borne crimes,

Which make my actions lawles like these times,

That had I power according to my will,

My faults would make compare with any ill.

But yet I muse at Poets now adayes,

That each mans vice so sharply will dispraise:

Like as the Kite doth ore the carrion houer,

So their owne faults, with other mens they couer.

Cause you shall deeme my iudgement to be iust,

Amongst the guilty, I cry guilty first.

Epigram 3.

GLacus that selfe conceyted critticke foole,

Vpon my Epigrams doth looke a scaunt,

[Page]

And bids me put my barren wit to schoole,

And I in anger bid the Asse auaunt.

For till some better thing by him is pend,

I bid him falt not that he cannot mend.

Epigram 4.

A Skilfull Painter such rare pictures drew,

That euery man his workmanship admird:

So neere the life, in beauty, forme, and hue,

As if dead Art, gainst Nature had conspirde.

Painter saies one, thy wife's a pretty woman,

I muse such ill shapt Children thou hast got,

Yet makest such Pictures as their like makes no man,

I prethee tell the cause of this thy lot?

Quoth he, I paint by day when it is light,

And get my Children in the darke at night.

Epigram 5.

VNlearned Azo, a store of bookes hath bought,

Because a learned Scoller heele be thought:

I counseld him that had of bookes such store,

To buy Pipes, Lutes, the Violl and Bandore,

And then his musicke and his learnings share,

Being both alike, with either might compare.

Epigram 6.

FAire Betrice tucks her coates vp somewhat hie,

Her pretty Leg and Foot cause men should spie:

Saies one you haue a handsome Leg sweet Ducke,

I haue two (quoth she) or els I had hard lucke:

There's two indeed, I thinke th'are twinnes (quoth he)

They are, and are not, honest friend (quoth she)

Their birth was both at once I dare be sworne,

But yet betweene them both a man was borne.

[Page]

Epigram 7.

THe way to make a Welch-man thirst for blisse,

And say his prayers daily on his knees:

Is to perswade him that most certaine tis,

The Moone is made of nothing but greene Cheese.

And heele desire of God no greater boone.

But place in heauen to feede vpon the Moone.

Epigram 8.

A Gallant Lasse from out her window saw

A gentleman whose nose in length exceeded:

Hir boundles will, not lymited by law,

Imagin'd he had what she greatly needed.

To speake with him she kindly doth entreat,

Desiring him to cleare her darke suppose:

Supposing euery thing was made compleate,

And corespondent equall to his nose.

But finding short where she exspected long,

She sigh'd, and said, O nose thou didst me wrong.

Epigram 9.

YOung Sr. Iohn Puck foyst, and his new made madam,

Forgetts they were the off-spring of old Adam:

I'm sure tis not for wit, nor man-like fight,

His worthles worship late was dubd a knight.

Some are made great for wealth, and some for wit,

And some for vallour doe attaine to it:

And some for neither vallour, witt nor wealth,

But stolne opinion, purchase it by stealth.

Epigrom 10.

ONe tolde me flattry was exilde the state,

And pride and lust at Court were out of date,

How vertue did from thence all vice pursue,

Tis newes (quoth I) too good for to be true.

[Page]

Epigrum 12.

HE that doth beate his braines, and tire his witt,

In hope thereby to please the multitude

As soone may ride a horse without a bitt,

Aboue the Moone, or sunnes high Altitude.

Then neither flattery, nor the hope of pelfe,

Hath made me write, but for to please my selfe.

Epigram 12.

ARustick swaine was cleauing of a block,

And hum he Cryes at euery pondrous knock,

His wife saies, husband wherfore hum you so?

Quoth he it makes the wedge in further goe.

When day was don, and drowsie night was come,

Being both in bed at play, she bids him hum,

Good wife (quoth he) entreat me hum no more,

For when I hum I cleaue, but now I bore.

Epigram 13,

VVHen Caualero Hot-shott goes with Oares,

Zoun's Rowe ye Rogs, ye lazy knaues make hast,

A noyse of Fidlers, and a brace of whores,

At Lambeth stayes for me to breake their fast.

He thats so hott for's wench ere he come nie her,

Being at her once I doubt heele be a fier.

Epigram 14.

IT was my chaunce once in my furious moode,

To call my neighbours wife an arrant who re,

But she most stifly on her credit stood,

Swearing that sory I should be therefo re,

Her husband vnderstanding of the case,

Protested he would sue me for a slander,

When straight I prou'd it to his forked face,

He was a knaue, a cuckold and a Pander.

[Page]

Oho (quoth he) good neighbor say no mo,

I know my wife lets out her buggle bo.

Epigram 15.

THe Law hangs Theeues for their vnlawfull stealing,

The Law carts Bawds, for keeping of the dore,

The Law doth punish Rogues, for roguish dealing,

The Law whips both the Pander and the whore,

But yet I muse from whence this Law is growne,

Whores must not steale nor yet must vse their owne.

Epigram 16.

OLd Fabian by extortion and by stealth,

Hath got a huge masse of ill gotten wealth,

For which he giues God daily thankes and praise,

When twas the Deuill that did his fortunes raise.

Then since the getting of thy goods were euill,

Th'ast reason to be thankfull to the deuill,

Who very largely hath increast thy muck,

And sent them Miser Midaes golden luck.

Then thanke not God for he hath helpt thee least,

But thanke the Deuill that hath thy pelfe increast.

Epigram 17.

VVHat matter ist, how men their dayes do spend,

So good report doe on their deaths attend:

Though in thy former life thou nere didst good,

But mad'st Religion for thy faults a hood,

And all blacke sinnes were harbourd in thy breast,

And tooke thy Conscience for their natiue nest:

Yet at thy buriall for a noble price,

Shalt haue a Sermon made, shall hide thy vice.

A threed-bare Parson shall thy prayse out-powre,

And in the expiration of an howre,

Will make the world thy honesty applaud,

And to thy passed life become a Baud.

[Page]

Our Christian brother heere lyes dead (quoth he)

Who was the patterne of true Charity:

No Drunkard, Whoremonger, nor no vile swearer,

No greedy Vsurer, nor no Rent-rearer.

O deare beloued his example take,

And thus an end at this time doe I make.

Thus Mr. Parson nobly spends his breath,

To make a Villaine honest after death.

And for one noble, freely he affoords,

Much more then twenty shillings-worth of words.

Epigram 18.

LOrd who would take him for a pippin squire,

That's so bedawb'd with lace and rich attire?

Can the dambd windefalls of base bawdery,

Maintaine the slaue in this imbrodery?

No maruaile Vertue's at so lowe a price,

When men knowes better how to thriue by Vice.

Epigram 19.

ALl Bradoes oathes are new-found eloquence,

As though they sprung from learned sapience:

He sweares by swift-pac'd Titans fiery Car,

By Marses Launce, the fearefull God of warre,

By Cupids Bowe, Mercuries charming Rod,

By Baccus Diety, that drunken God.

By grimfacde Pluto, and Auernus Caues,

By Eolus blasts, and Nptunes raging waues,

By his sweet Mistris bright translucent eies,

All other Oathes his Humour doth despise.

Epigram 20.

Signeor Serano, to and fro doth range,

And at high noone he visits the Exchange:

With stately gate the peopled Burse he stalkes,

Prying for some acquaintance in those walkes.

[Page]

Which if he spie, note but his strange salute,

Marke how heele spread to shew his broaking sute,

When he perhaps that owde this cast apparell,

Not a fortnight since at Tyburne fought a quarell.

Epigram 21.

OLd Grubsons Sonne a stripling of good age,

T will make one laugh to see him and his Page,

Like to a garded Vrchin walkes the streetes,

Looking for reuerence of each one he meetes:

Eagles must honour Owles, and Lyons Apes,

And wise men worship fooles for farre fetcht shapes.

Epigram 22.

GReat Captaine Sharke doth wonderfully muse,

How he shall spend the day that next ensues:

Theres no Play to be plaid but he hath seene,

At all the Theaters he oft hath beene:

And seene the rise of Clownes, and fall of Kings,

Which to his humor no contentment brings.

And for he scornes to see a Play past twice:

Heele spend the time with his sweet Cockatrice.

Epigram 23.

A Compleat Gallant that hath gone as farre,

That with his hands from Skies hath pluckt a Starre:

And saw bright Phoebus when he did take Coach,

And Luna when her Throane she did approach:

And talkt with Iupiter and Mercury,

With Vulcan and the Queene of Letchery,

And saw the net the stumpfoot Blackesmith made,

Wherein fell Mars and Venus was betraid,

With thousand other sights he saw in Skies:

Who dares affirme it that this gallant lyes?

I counsell all that either hate or loue him,

Rather beleeue him then to goe disproue him.

[Page]

Epigram 24.

DRusus his portion gallantly hath spent,

What though? he did it to a good entent.

Vnto a wise man it seemes neuer strange,

That men should put their mony to exchange.

Nay then I see he was a subtill Fox,

What had he for't I pray? sweet Sir the Pox.

I doe not like his bargaine: why, wherefore?

His mony still wan'd lesse, his pox wax more.

He need not now feare wasting of his stocks,

Spend what he can he nere shall want the pox.

Epigram 25.

NEat Master Scapethrift railes against all riet,

Commending much a temperate sparing diet:

What though he hath bene prodigall and wilde,

Those idle fancies now he hath exilde:

What though he hath bene frequent with excesse

Of Dice, of Drabs, and drowsie Drunkennes,

Yet now hee's changd sir, he is not the man,

The case is alterd now from what twas than:

The Prologue of his wealth did teach him spend,

And tis the Epilogue that makes him mend.

Epigram 26.

A Greedy Chuffe once being warnd in poste,

To make appearance at the Court of Hell:

Where grisly Pluto hotly rules the roste:

And being summond by the passing Bell,

With heapes of Golde he would haue bribed Death,

But he disayning bribes, depriu'd his breath,

Epigram 27.

DOctor Donzago one of wondrous learning,

And in Astronomy exceeding cunning:

[Page]

Of things thats past and comming, hees discerning,

His minde on Prophesies is euer running,

Of Commets, Meteors, Apparitions,

Of Prodigies, and exhalations,

Of Planets, natures, and conditions,

And of the spheares great calculations,

Yet want of one skill, all his cunning smothers,

Who lies most with his wife himselfe or others?

Epigram 28.

BRaue Bragadocio whome the world would threaten,

Was lately with a fagot sticke sore beaten:

Wherefore in kindenes now my Muse must weepe,

Because his resolution was a sleepe.

Epigram 29.

WAlking along the streetes the other day,

A ragged Soldier crost me on the way;

And though my Purses lyning was but scant,

Yet somewhat I bestowd to ease his want.

For which he kindely thankt me with his hart,

And tooke his leaue and friendiy we did part.

When straight mine eyes a Horse and Footcloth spide,

Vpon whose backe in pompous state did ride,

One, whome I thought was Deputy to Ioue,

Yet not this Soldiers wants could pitty moue,

But with disdainefull lookes and tearmes of scorne,

Commaunds him trauell whether he was borne.

Twill almost make a puritane to sweare,

To see an Asses Horse a Cloake to weare,

When Christians must goe naked bare and thinne.

Wanting apparrell t'hide their mangled skinne.

Vaine world vnto thy Chaos turne agen,

[...] bruitish beasts are more esteemd then men.

[Page]

Epigram 30.

LIefetenant Puffe from Cleaueland is returnd,

Where entring of a Breach was sorely burnd:

And from Reuenge heele neuer be perswaded,

Till the lowe Countries he hath quite inuaded.

When his hot wrath makes Netherlands to smoake,

Hees bound for Deepe in Fraunce, with irefull stroake.

But haue a care in these hot warres of Fraunce:

Least in a pocky heat you spoyle your Launce.

Epigram 31.

A Loue-sicke Woer would a Sonnet write,

In praise of her that was his hearts delight:

Hoping thereby his wished loue to winne,

And to attaine it, thus he did begin.

Starre of the Earth, and Empresse of my Soule,

My Loue and Life, that doth my thoughts controule:

Sole Queene of my affections, and desire,

That like to Aetna sets my heart on fire.

Thy golden Lockes, resembling brightest Amber,

Most fit to grace some mighty Monarkes Chamber:

Thine eyes ecclipsing Titan in his rysing,

Thy Face surpassing Natures best deuising.

Thy Lips Euaporates most sweete perfumes,

Thy Voyce the Musicke of the Spheares assumes.

Perfection wounds more then Loues Shaft and Bowe,

Thy red the Rose doth shame, thy white the snowe,

Thou Worlds wonder, Natures dearest Iewell,

Staine not thy Vertues, with thy being cruell.

O thou that art my Soules adored Saint!

Be penetrable to my woes complaint.

Thus the poore Bull-finch spends the day in moanes,

The night he wasts in deepe heart-gnawing groanes,

For a most silthy vgly odious Whore,

On whome he spends his substance and his store.

[Page]

Deuising millions of egregious lyes,

To raise his Punckes foule feature to the skyes.

Epigram 32.

LOoke how yon I etchers Legs are worne away

With haunting of the Whore-house euery day:

He knowes more greasy Panders, Bauds, & Drabs,

And eats more Lobsters, Artichockes, and Crabs,

Blew roasted Egges, Potatoes, Muskadine,

Oysters, and pith that growes i'th Oxes Chine:

With many Drugs, Compounds, and Simples store,

Which makes him haue a stomacke to a Whore.

But one day heele giue ore, when tis too late,

When he stands begging through an iron grate.

Epigram 33.

LIght fingerd Francis begging in the Iayle,

Did chance to see a friend of his passe by,

Thinking his lamentations would pre uaile,

And that some coyne would from his bounty fly.

Those antient friends, one thrall, and tother free,

One hungry, lowsy, ragged, and forlorne:

The tother fat with prodigallity,

Makes him this answere mixt with pride and scorne,

What Franck (quoth he) art there for Ale and Cake?

Why how the Deuill comes this luckles crosse?

Faith Sir (quoth Franck) your Mastership mistakes,

For I am heere for stealing of a Horse.

Troth I mistooke indeed, and so didst thou,

For at this time I haue no mony now.

Epigram 34.

MOunsieur Luxurio hath bene with a Puncke,

Whereby his Worships purse is shrowdly shrunke.

And now for pennance of his former ryet,

With good Duke Humfry he must take his dyet.

[Page]

Thus with a crosseles purse and meatles maw,

[...] his case quite past the helpe of Law.

Epigram 35.

THere chanst to meet together in an Inne,

Foure men that thought that lying was no sinne,

The [...] an old man was in age well enter'd,

The next a traueller that farre had venter'd,

The third a Poet in prose and verse attir'd,

The fourth a Painter for his art admir'd:

These foure striued each other to excell,

Who should in lying beare away the Bell:

The old man said that when he was a boy,

To lift nine hundred waight was but a toy,

To iump in plaine ground thirty foote at least:

Then was accounted but an idle iest.

The [...] replide that he had seene,

The King of Pigmies and the Fairy Queene:

And bene where triple-headed Cerberus,

Did guard the sulphrus gate of Erebus.

The Poet he had bene at Hellicon,

And rakte from embers of obliuion,

Olde Saturnes downefall, and Ioues royall rysing,

With thousaud fictions of his wits deuising.

And for the Painter scornes to come behinde,

He paints a flying Horse, a golden Hinde.

A Sagitary, and a grim wilde man,

A two-neckt Eagle, and a cole-blacke swan.

Now Reader tell me which of those fower Lyers,

Doth best deserue the whetstone of their hyers.

Epigram 36.

THough Death do Vsurers of life depriue,

Yet their extorcions euer shall suruiue.

[Page]

Epigram 37.

MIraculos wonders in the Brittish clime,

Monsters of Nature, sprung from putred slime.

Sampson that puld the Gates of Gaza downe,

Nor Libian Hercules whose furious frowne,

Would mase strong Giants, tame the Lyons rage,

Were not so strong as Gallants of this age:

Why you shall see an vpstart Corkebraind Iacke,

Will beare fiue hundred Akers at his backe,

And walke as stoutly as it were no load,

And beare it to each place of his aboad,

Men of such strength I iudge it necessary,

That none but such should Porters burdens carry.

Epigram 38.

FOr Gods loue tell what gallant Gull is that,

With the great Feather, and the Beauer Hat?

O now I know, his name is Mounsieur Shift,

Great Cosin german to Sir Cutbert Theft,

All his reuenues still he beares ab out him,

Whorehouse, nor Ordinaries neuer are without him.

False Dice, sharp Knife, and nimble nimming fingers,

Are his sworne Subiects, and his tribute bringers.

Thus doth he swagger, sharke, steale, filtch, and quarrell,

Vntill the hangmans wardrop keepes his parreli.

Epigram 39.

A Famous house in poasting hast is built,

A gallant Porch with Pillars all beguilt,

Braue lofty Chimnies, pitty to defile them,

Pray make no fire, for the smoake will soyle them.

Epigram 40.

A Worthy Knight there is of antient fame,

And sweet Sir reuerence men doe call his name:

[Page]

By whose industrious pollicie and wit,

Theres many things well tane, were else vnfit,

If to a fowle discourse thou hast pretence,

Before thy foule words name Sir reuerence.

Thy beastly tale most pleasantly will slip,

And gaine the praise when thou deserust the Whip.

Theres nothing vile that can be done or spoake,

But must be couerd with Sir reuerence Cloake.

His antient pedegree who euer seekes,

Shall finde hees sprung from mongst the gallant Greekes.

Was Aiax Squire, great Champion to God Mars:

Pray God Sir Reuerence blesse your Worships ()

Epigram 41.

HVnting is all this Gentlemans delight,

Yet out of Towne his Worship neuer rides:

He hunts inuisible and out of sight,

For in the Citty still his game abides.

He hunts no Lyon, Tygre, nor the Bore,

Nor Bucke, nor Stagge, nor Hart, nor Hinde, nor Hare,

But all his sport's in hunting of a whore,

And in the Chase no trauell he will spare.

He hath one Dog for hunting of the Cunny,

Worth a whole kennell of your flapmouthd Hounds,

He will not part with him for any mony,

But yet the Curre will course beyond his bounds.

But I aduise him to respect his lot,

Least too much heating make him pocky hot.

Epigram 42.

FAlling a sleepe, and sleeping in a dreame,

Downe by the Dale that flowes with Milke & Creame,

I saw a Rat vpon an Essex Cheese

Dismounted by a Cambrian clad in Freese.

To bid his Worship eat I had no need,

For like a Serieant he began to feed.

[Page]

Epigram 43.

A French and English man at dinner sate,

And neither vnderstanding others prate,

The Frenchman sayes, mange proface Mounsieure,

The Englishman begins to storme and sweare:

By all the Deuills, and the Deuills dams,

He was not mangie but ith wrists and [...].

Epigram 44.

A Dead dead bargaine is a quicke quicke wife,

A quicke wife lyes ore long vpon ones hands,

But for a dead wife that hath lost her life

A man may sooner vtter then his lands.

This Riddle greatly doth amaze my head,

That dead thinges should be quick, and quick things dead.

Loe then Ile make an outcry wondrous strange,

If death doe any wife of life depriue:

Ile giue her husband coyne to boot and change,

And for his dead wife one that is aliue:

Besides, Ile pay the [...] and the feast,

And take my wife againe when shees dtceast.

Epigram 45.

Omus sits mumming like an [...] Elfe,

Hates others good nor doth no good himselfe.

Epigram 46.

REader, if any thing this Booke did cost,

Thou needst not deeme thy coyne and labor lost:

Twill serue thee well Tobacco for to dry,

Or when thou talkst with mother Anthony.

Twill serue for Muckenders for want of [...],

So farwell Reader, I remaine thy detter.

[Page]

Satire[?]

THou that hast euer bene a rouing Theese,

A diuing Cutpurse, or a periurd Slaue,

And in all villany hast bene the Chiefe,

And with a brasen brow canst iustice braue,

That stealst thy pedegree from antient houses,

And [...] in broaking Sattin euery day:

That takst delight in stabbing and Carowses,

Not caring how thou letst thy loose life stray.

Thou that hast bene a Traytor to thy Prince,

A great Arch-villaine to thy natiue soyle,

And wouldst by treachery exile from thence,

The blessed peace hath bene procurd with toyle.

Thou that hast bene a Machiuilian

For damned slights, conceits, and pollicy:

Thou that hast bene an Antichristian,

Or [...] with blinded heresy.

If any of these vile iniquities,

Haue bene the Axioms of thy passed life;

Then view the Roles of old antiquities,

And see goods got with falshood, lost with strife.

There shalt thou see how Iustice euermore,

Hath poyz'd the Ballance, and vpheld the Sword,

How Grauitie inspirde with Wisdomes lore,

Hath Vertue honord, and foule Vice abhord.

How Treason hath bene seuerd lim from lim,

How Theft and Murder there haue paid their hire:

How those that erst in worldly pompe did swim,

Haue soyld their fortunes in disgraces mire.

How [...] hath forfeited his eares,

How [...] mounted on the Pillory,

How graceles [...], that nothing feares,

Doe end their dayes in loathed misery.

How Vsury is plagued with the Gowt,

How Auarice complayneth of the Stone:

How guilty Consciences are still in dout,

[Page]

How Enuy gnawes on Honor to the bone.

How Letchery is laden with the pox,

How Prodigallity doth end with woe:

How Panderisme is headed like an Ox,

Because the destinies apoynt it so.

How drunkennes is with the dropsie fraught,

And made his visage like a fiery Commet,

Who being full must leaue the tother draught,

Till like a Swine he wallow in his vommet.

How dambd hipocrisie with faigned zeale,

And outward shew of painted holynes:

(Doth like a Canker eat the publike weale)

All scornefull pride, yet seemes all lowlynes.

To thee that readst this, therefore be it knowne,

If any of those vices are immurde

Within thy heart, not to the World yet showne:

If by this reading thou maist be allurde,

To turne thy tide of life another way,

And to amendment all thy thoughts incline:

And to thy rebell will no more obay,

But seeke by vertuous actions to combine

Fame to thy friends, and terror to thy foe,

And say twas friendly counsell told thee so.

Satire.

THis childish Anticke, doating pie-bald world,

Through which the Deuill, all blacke sins hath hurld:

Hath hene so long by wickednes prest downe,

From the freese Plow-swaine to th'Imperiall Crowne:

We haue so long in vice accustomd bin,

That nothing that is wicked lookes like sin.

The glistring Courtier in his gaudy tire,

Scornes with his heeles to know his russet Sire.

The pettifogging Lawyer crammes vp Crownes,

From hobnayld Boores, and sheepeskin country Clownes

The gaping, greedy, gryping Vsurer,

The sonne of Hell, and Sathans treasurer:

[Page]

The base [...] [...] sould bribing Broaker,

The [...] of Mankinde and his Countries choaker.

The helhownd whelpe, the shoulder-clapping Serient,

That cares not to vndoe the world for Argent.

The postknight that will sweare away his soule,

Though for the same, the law his eares doe powle.

The smoaky black-lungd puft Tobacconist,

Whose ioy dothin Tobacco sole consist.

The chollericke Gull that's tangled with a Drab,

And in her quarrell will his father stab.

The baudy dry boand letcherous Baboone,

Would faine repent, hut thinkes it is too soone.

The ryming Iygmonger would be a Poet,

But that the Rascall hath not wit to show it.

The wrinkled Bawd, and dambd Vermillian whore,

That buyes and sells the pox t'increase their store.

The greasy cauesdropping dore-keeping Pander,

That with a Puncke to any man will wander.

The conycatching shifter [...] most briefe,

And when hees hangd heele cease to be a thiefe.

The [...] Drunkard, will carrowse and quaffe,

Till like a Hog he tumble in his draffe.

Besides, theres diuers other helborne sinnes:

As some great men are wrapt in Misers skinnes,

For feare of whose dislike [...] hold me still,

And not bumbast them with my Ganders quill.

Consider with thy selfe good Reader then,

That heere thou [...] amongst those wicked men,

Who on this earthly stage together keepe,

Like mag gots in a putrified sheepe.

Whose damned dealings blacke confusion brings,

By the iust iudgement of the King of Kings.

Pastorall Equinocks, or a Shepheards complaint.

I That haue trac'd the mountaines vp and downe,

And pipte and chanted Songs and pleasant layes:

[Page]

The whilst my flokes haue friskt it on the downe,

Now blinded loue my sportiue pleasures layes.

I that on greeny grasse could lay me do wne,

And sleepe as soundly as on beds of downe.

I then was free from loues all wounding blowe,

My Ewes and Lambs then merrily could folde:

I carde not then which way the winde did blowe,

Nor had I cause with griefe my armes to folde,

I feard not Winters frost, nor Summers sonne,

And then was I a happy mothers sonne.

I then could haunt the Market and the Faire,

And in a frolicke humor leape and spring:

Till she whose beauty did surpasse all faire,

Did with her frosty [...] nip my Spring.

Then I alas, alas vnhappy I,

Was made a captiue to her scornefull eie.

VVhen loue's fell shaft within my breast did light,

Then did my Cock-horse pleasures all a light,

Loues fiery [...] ecclipsed all my light,

And she vnkinde, weyde all my woes to light.

O then my merry dayes away did hie,

VVhen I so lowe did dote on one so hie.

Her beauty, which did make Loues Queene a Crowe,

VVhofe white did shame the Lilly, red the Rose.

VVhen Phoebus messenger the Cocke did crowe,

Each morne when from hia Antipods he rose.

Despight of gates, and barres, and bolts, and lockes,

Heed kisse her face, and guild her golden lockes.

VVhich makes my rest, like those that restles be,

Like one that's hard pursude, and cannot flye:

Or like the busie buzzing humming Bee,

Or like the fruitles nought respected Flye.

That cuts the subtill ayre so swift and fast,

Till in the Spiders web hee's tangled fast.

[Page]

As blustring Boreas rends the losty Pyne,

So her vnkindenes rends and reaues my heart,

I weepe, I waile, I sigh, I grone, I pine,

I in ward bleed as doth the wounded Hart.

She that alone should onely wish me well,

Hath drownd my ioyes in sorrowes ioyles well.

The [...] Tyger, and the sauage Beare,

All Beasts and Birds of prey that haunt the wood,

In my laments doe seeme some part to beare,

But onely She whose feature makes me wood,

As barbing Autumne robs the trees of leaues:

Her [...] scorne me voyd of comfort leaues.

No Castle, Fort, no Rampier, or strong Hold,

But Loue will enter without Law or Leaue:

For where affections force hath taken hold,

There lawles loue will such impression [...],

That Gods, nor men, nor fier, earth, water, winde,

[...] Loues straight lawes can neither turne nor wind.

Then since [...] haples haps falls out so hard,

Since all the fates on me their anger powre:

Since my laments and moanes cannot be heard,

And she on me shewes her commaunding power.

What then remaines, but I dissolue in teares,

Since her disdaines my heart in pieces teares.

Dye then sad heart in sorrowes prison pend,

Dye face thats [...] with a deadly dye:

[...] [...] that in her praise hath Poems pend,

[...] [...], and Hand, haples and helples dye.

[...] Serieant Death, that rests and tak'st no bale,

[...] onely thou must ease my bitter bale.

This said, he sighd, and fell into a sownd,

That [...] the Hills, and Groues, and neigbouring Plaines,

The Ecchoes of his groanings seemd to sound,

With repercussion of his dying plaines.

[Page]

And where in life he scorned counsell graue,

Now in his death he rests him in his graue.

Epitaph.

HEere lies ingrau'd whose life fell death did sacke,

Who to his graue was brought vpon a Beere:

For whome let all men euer mourne in Sacke

Or else remember him in Ale or [...].

He who in life Loues blinded God did lead,

Now in his death lies heere as cold as Lead.

Sonnet: In trust lies treason.

THe fowlest friends assumes the fairest formes,

The fairest Fields doth feed the fowlest Toad:

The Sea at calm'st most [...] is to stormes,

In choysest fruit the canker makes aboad.

So in the shape of all belieuing trust,

Lyes toad inuenomd treason cooched close,

Till like a storme his trothles thoughts out burst,

Who canker-like had laine in trusts repose.

For as the fire within the flint confinde,

In deepest Ocean still vnquencht remaines:

Euen so the false though truest seeming minde,

Despight of truth the treason still retaines.

Yet maugre treason trust deserueth trust,

And trust suruiues when treason dies accurst.

Death with the foure Elements.

TWo Infant-twinnes a Sister and a Brother,

When out of dores was gone their carefull Sire,

And left his babes in keeping with their mother,

Who merrily sate singing by the fire.

Who hauing fild a [...] with water warme,

She bathd hen girle (O ruthles tale to tell)

The whilst she thought the other safe from harme,

(Vnluckily) into the fire he [...]:

VVhich she [...] lets her daughter drowne,

And rashly ran to saue her burning sonne.

[Page]

Which finding dead, she hastily casts downe,

And all agast, doth to the water runne:

Where seeing tother was depriud of breath,

She gainst the earth falls downe and dasnt her braines:

Her Husband comes and sees this worke of death,

And desperate hangs himselfe to ease his paines.

Thus death with all the elements conspire,

To reaue mans life, Earth, Water, Aire, and Fire.

Epilogue.

GOod Reader, if my harshe vnlearned rimes,

(Where with my Muse hath whipt these heedles times)

Hath pleasd thy pallat with their true endeauor:

She then will thinke her selfe most fortunate,

And shall heere after be importunate.

Her selfe in better labors to perseuer.

I speake not to those ignorant Iacke= [...],

That with their Canker-biting enuious iawes,

Will seeme to staine my Muses innocence[?].

But in all humblenes I yeeld to those,

Who are detracting Ignorances foes:

And loues the labors of each good pretence.

Dislike and scorne may chance my Booke to smother,

But kinde acceptance brings forth such another.

§

YOu that the Sculler right doth vnderstand,

Mees very glad you'r safely come to land.

But if that any inarling manlike Monster,

His honest meaning wrongfully misconster:

To such [...] all despight, he sends this word,

From Booke and Boat heele hurle them ouer boord.

I. T.

FINIS.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

The sculler rowing from Tiber to Thames with his boate laden with a hotch-potch, or gallimawfry of sonnets, satyres, and epigrams. With an addition of pastorall equiuocques or the complaint of a shepheard. By Iohn Taylor.

Taylor, John, 1580-1653.

Edition statement

1612

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A13493

ID [STC]

STC 23791

ID [STC]

ESTC S118270

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99853477

ID [PROQUEST]

99853477

ID [VID]

18860

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A13493)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 18860)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1036:20)

Source

— The sculler rowing from Tiber to Thames with his boate laden with a hotch-potch, or gallimawfry of sonnets, satyres, and epigrams. With an addition of pastorall equiuocques or the complaint of a shepheard. By Iohn Taylor., Taylor, John, 1580-1653..

Extent

[48] p.

By E[dward] A[llde] & are to be solde [by Nathaniel Butter] at the Pide-bull neere St. Austins gate,. Printed at London :: 1612.. (In verse.) (With a title-page woodcut.) (Printer's and bookseller's names from STC.) (Signatures: A-F⁴.) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.