The Pilgrims Story.
WAndring I was vnto the holy Towne,
By which the waues of Iordans Cristall flood
With siluer surge quietly wanders downe,
Watring the suburbs that about it stood,
In Pilgrims weede, to doe deuotion
At the sepulchre of our Ladies Sonne.
But by the way I chaunced to espy
Two twin-like sisters discontented sit,
Glistering with such coelestiall maiesty,
As made me tremble in beholding it,
Supposing them as I did musing stand,
The Tutelares Dee of that Land.
From th' Articke pole full fifty two degrees,
That land doth lye within the temperate Zone,
Flourishing greene with groues of goodly trees,
And from the world sequestred all alone,
Wall'd with the billowes of the foming mayne,
Into an Iland on a pleasant playne.
The pleasant fields enameld naturally
With Lillies, Cowslips, and the Violet sweete;
On which the beasts tumbled lasciuiously,
And purple Strawberries trodde vnder feete:
No Tygre, Wolfe, Lyon, or sauage Beare,
Or any hurtfull creature liueth there.
The lofty hilles did Limbicke-like distill,
Th' enclosed ayre shed downe in Cristall showres,
Which through the verdāt valleyes streamed stil,
With siluer waues playing among the flowres,
Whose gentle current did their beauty blesse,
Pampring the playnes with fruitfull pleasantnesse.
Then ranne dispers'd in shallow Azure brookes,
Befring'd with bankes of shadie mirtild trees,
And pleasant palmes, glazing their louely lookes
Ouer the trembling superficies,
Whose leafy locks, for more eye-pleasing view,
The heauens embalmed with Ambrosiall dewe.
About the Cities and frequented townes,
The gowned people of that blessed Land,
Sate in their Orchards, deckt with Rosed crowns,
Singing Eliza, and then clappe their hand,
Shrowded in bowres of shady wandring vines,
Embrodred all with fragrant Eglantines.
The pleasant rowes of daynty Apricockes,
Quadrangle walkes did Laborinth-like compose,
Richly adornd from their contiguous tops,
With damaske hangings of the purple Rose,
Which the coelestiall Angels seeme to dresse:
So supernaturall was their pleasantnesse.
There breath'd the spirit of sweete Zephyrus,
Among the leaues whispring with still est voyce,
And Cristal springs through siluer pipes did gush,
Inuiting sleepe with gentle muttering noyse:
There sweetly warbled natures feathered quires,
Embow'd with shady bough-combynding briers.
Well, here I stayd gathering my wandring wits,
Rapt with this blessed sense-intraunsing sight,
And neerer straight went on by wandering fits,
To view that payre, shining like Angels bright:
But trembling feare withdrew my doubtful feete,
And backe I slinckt me, thinking it vnmeete.
Then musde awhile; straight, as resolued quite,
I trod the steps that I vntrode before,
Ost starting backe at mine owne shadowes sight,
And euerie sinowe shiuering wondrous sore:
Now stood I listning, streight peerd with mine eie,
Spying about, lest any should espie.
Then on I stept, as soft as mouse could tread,
And e're two strides (me thought I went too fast)
Crouching me down, lest they shuld see my head;
And so crept on iollily neere at last.
Then squat I layd, euen like a timorous Hare.
So deare strange visions vnto Pilgrims are.
Fearefull through doubt, yet doubtful what to say:
(For feare is fostred by vncertayne doubt)
Doubtful through danger that I thought was nye:
(For danger is conceyu'd by fearefull thought,)
Carefull through both, and wary through my care,
I dare not stirre, because I did not dare.
But at the last (for long I lent mine eare,)
I heard the younger say with heauy heart,
Sister, more crosses I am borne to beare,
Then tongue can speake, or speaches can impart;
Yet none hath heapt such sorrowes in my brest,
As those which now; and sighed out the rest.
Nay, said her sister, do not smother't so,
Impart it soone, if it import releefe:
I prithee (sweete) communicate thy woe,
And let me share in sympathie of griefe:
Seeme not to be what it beseemes not thee,
So miserable of thy miserie.
Then she replide, You know (I little doubt)
How I haue brought vp three, I know not what,
That viperlike would eate my bowels out;
Whom you baptized first, but after that,
They chang'd their names to fit their qualitie,
And so were taken changelings for to be.
Each to his name his disposition fram'd,
Sat. rough, seuere: Ep. skip-Iacke iester like:
Hu. with newfangled neuterisme enflam'd,
Al naught. Thē she her sigh-swoln brest did strike
And said, Their vice my voice failes to lament,
Spending my speach before my griefe is spent.
But then her sister, with diuinest grace,
Opened her lips like glorious Cherubins,
Her eyes with teares threatning to drown her face,
Maiestickly at last she thus begins:
Oft cause of griefe proues comfort to the grieued,
And hope of comfort cause to be releeued.
And therefore, sister, be you rul'd by me,
Though they neglect, do you your dutie shew,
And sith I gaue them Christianitie,
Dutie enioyn's me to ioyne in with you;
For they are blest, that labour to represse
The course of sinne, and curse of sinfulnesse.
If my aduice may sway your troubled mind,
Doe not your heart with such vexation fret,
And seeme not ouer-motherly inclyn'd;
What sorrow begets, reason must forget.
But take me Satyre, and with angry looke
Sharpely correct him, for the course he tooke.
But yet I thinke it farre the better way,
That you procure some other in your stead:
For you will straight your tender heart bewray,
And fayle to strike, and fall to stroake his head.
Prouide you therefore some sufficient man,
That can performe, and will doe what he can.
Then let him take the other two apart,
And shewe how lewdly they their time mispent,
Who being of a milder-moulded heart,
May happily in Christian sort relent.
Conceyue you this? I (sayd her Sister) well;
But know no man dares practize what you tell.
At this I smilde, for feare enfranchis'd me.
When by their talke, this glorious paire I knew,
The sacred Church and Common wealth to be,
My fingers itcht at Satyre, to say true:
For I suppos'd some paynes bestowd on them,
Would please God more, then on Ierusalem.
With this resolu'd, I went me soft and faire,
And with obeisance on my bended knee,
Gan thus salute them, You coelestiall paire,
Though I be come, as it becomes not me,
Yet pardon graunt, diuiner Powers ordain'd,
That I should heare to helpe what ye complain'd.
I will not tell you of this wonderment,
And gratious speach replide when it was past,
For they by miracles suppos'd me sent:
But to be short, I was the man at last,
They both assign'd, and bade me streight prouide,
To take vp Satyre, and take downe his pride.
My charge once giuen, lo, on my humbled knee
[...] tooke my leaue, and from the holy land,
Turn'd backe vnto a sinfull Niniuie,
And here, my Masters, now before you stand:
God saue ye all, I am a Pilgrime poore,
Expect not then, nay I am blunt, no more.
In Satyrum.
THe Satyrist now, like a masty dogge,
Chayn'd in his kēnell for to make him curst
Lay grinning long, at last he broke his clog
But with his collar almost choked first,
And with ful mouth, or rather foul-mouth'd speach
He roar'd at all, or else he worried each.
What though the world was surfeted with sinne
And with the surfet dangerously sicke,
And with the sickenesse had miscarried bene?
Must it of force his filthy phisicke licke,
Who little knowing what it ought to haue,
For purging pilles, a pild purgation gaue?
And seeming wondrous carefully inclyn'd,
Did L [...]pos-like pretend Arch villanie,
Mixing the poyson of malitious minde,
Stead of a present soueraigne remedie:
For we may thinke there's poyson foysted in,
Because the world swells bigger sin with sin.
Behold, thou misconceyuing Satyrist,
The quaffing ale-knight hath a reeling pace:
The Cobler alwaies shewes a durtie fist:
Who liues a Smith, must needs besmere his Face.
Then know, thou filthy sweepe-chimney of sin,
The soyle thereof defiles thy soule within.
O wonder great! Is it not villany,
That one should liue by reckning vp of vice,
And be a sinne-monger professedly,
Inuoluming offences for a price?
Yet by the same doth purchase but the shame,
And blaming others, merits others blame.
O, is it not a worke of wickednesse,
To picke vp sinne, and packe vp villanies,
To flesh ones penne with fatte of filthinesse,
And heape together mens iniquities?
Fearing belike, (but fearing it to shew)
That some deare yeere of sin would soone ensue
Nay, you preseru'd them wondrous daintily,
As though they had been Pheps or Quinches all,
And in the closet of your memory
Kept them, as though against some Festiuall,
Then brought them out to vs your Countriemen,
That we might all make merrie with them then.
Thus you suppos'd the peoples hearts to winne
By Machiuillian damned policie:
For seeing men inclined to such sinne,
You feasted them with all varietie,
And lest you should this vilde pretence reueale,
Did hypocrite it with a shew of zeale:
As a blind begger guided by his boy,
Stands in the way of some frequented place,
And cryes, Alas, I doe no sight inioy:
For Iesus sake take pity on my case;
Bestowe one penny; God your sight mayntayne;
The Lord in heauen will you reward agayne.
And still his boy (like a Parenthesis)
Comes in, For Gods sake help the poore & blind;
And leads him forward with a string, I wisse,
Spying about some Gentleman to find.
Then they poore soules make toward him a pace,
And both together pleade their wofull case.
If he doth passe, and doth not passe for it,
The boy runnes after with a ruthfull crie,
Good courteous Gentleman, for Gods sake yet▪
Here's a three halfepence, but one halfepenny:
So your blind errour by deuotion led,
Wearies the senses of the Readers head.
Well, yet you shew a noble confidence,
That with the force of your perswasion,
Durst vndertake so notable pretence,
As driue the diuell from possession:
Yet thus you proue as all men witnesse can,
No notable, but a not able man.
As lesser flame, the greater smoke we see:
As smallest treble is the lowdest found:
As baddest weedes the soonest growne will be:
As emptie vessell giues the greatest sound:
As poorer purse, the prouder stomacke still:
So weaker reason hath the stronger will.
My spleene would burst, ere I could laugh my fill,
At that same combate that you late were in,
Whose Pigmey wit tooke vp a Gooses quill,
Stead of a bulrush, to encounter sinne:
And with a pen, as with a pikestaffe came,
To set vpon the Diuell and his Dame.
Faith, this will make the Chronicle to shine,
That in the yeere (it skils not for the day)
1 5 9 & 9.
A Satyre on the Diuell made a fray:
And with a penne because you made the same,
Satyr-Pen-Dragon we will call your name.
O, it's a iest to laugh an Emperour,
I'le haue the maner of the combate all,
Painted in colours by some Picturer,
And haue it vp vpon my studie wall.
Beshrow my heart else, I'le this cost bestow,
Wee'le put down George a horseback quite I trow.
Can you seeme wise to any simple men,
That seem'd so simple vnto all the wise,
And fitter farre to hold the plough, then pen,
Such incompt stuffe you rudely Poetize?
Yet I confesse, there's much conceit in it,
For you haue showne great store of little wit.
Take me your staffe, and walke some halfe score myles,
And I'le be hang'd, if in that quantity
You find me out but halfe so many styles,
As you haue made within your Poesie:
Nay, for your stile, there's none can you excell,
You may be called Iohn a Stile full well.
A man may see, that hath but halfe an eie,
The naked knowledge that's in you, God knowth,
Scraping acquaintance of Philosophie,
To filch some praise out of the vulgars mouth:
Indeed this sauers of some Sophistrie;
Here's a Fallacion from Simplicitie.
But he that mounts into the aire of Fame,
Must haue two wings, Nature and Arte to flie,
And that he may soare safely with the same,
Must take his rise low from humilitie;
And not with you, a Gooses quill to take,
Thinking with that, an Eagles flight to make.
Your stately Muse starched with stiffe-neckt pride
Dain'd it amongst vs most imperiously,
With lauish laughter she did each deride,
That came within the prospect of her eye:
Despising all, all her againe despise,
Contemn'd of foolish, and condemn'd of wise.
Could you haue giuen her some good portion
Of wit or learning to maintaine her state,
She might haue purchased reputation,
While she by pride hath but procured hate.
For who loues her, that's not in any part
Endued with vertue, or endow'd with Arte?
Your Readers tongue at euery leafe doth tyre:
Then for a bayte of fresher breath doth stay,
Each lyne he thinks a lane, and doth desire,
It were as playne as Dunstable high way;
When I dare speake it, at the best mans table,
You deale as playne as any Dunse is able.
Playnly you speak; Plaine-lyes I would haue said,
But that I thought I should haue spoke too playn,
And by your playnnesse, playnly hath bewrayd
The pride you take your playnnesse to mayntayn.
There's no estate but vildly you impeach,
And lowdest lyes report in lewdest speach.
Sure, some pot-furie did possesse your braine,
For many holds a Poet should not write,
Till the Almightie blesse his hopefull paine,
Or strong Sir Claret Burdeaux Redcrosse Knight
Dubs him a Poet. To such I say yet,
Water made wine once; but wine neuer wit.
No Iuie-bush, but lawrell branch must be
The pleasing obiect of a Poets eye:
The tippling
Poto (que), Potaui & potus; titubo, titubaui. &c.
head hath toppling feete we see;He that cal's Hostesse, cal's his enemie:
Wit waxeth poore, when wine at pledge doth lie,
For wine and wisedome are at enmitie.
Why then in such a louing Trinitie,
Do Mars and Bacchus and Apollo goe,
In
Vt sunt Diuorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo &c.
propria quae maribus so nie?I'le tell you why: Bacchus was tippled so,
That Mars and god Apollo for good will,
Were faine to hold him vp betwixt them still.
But some may say, Then I would gladly weete,
Why such quicke wits in Poets find we may?
I answere, Cause a verse hath many feete,
And therefore with ones wit runnes quite away:
So that the heads of Poets often be
Carried away with feete of Poesie.
Had you bene sober, as it had behooued,
Shame would haue shriued your misdemeaned pē,
E're it had such a deuilish Beldame prooued,
Setting at strife your quyet countreymen.
He that accord by wrong would altred see,
He in a cord by right should haltred be.
Was not one hang'd of late for libelling?
Yes questionlesse. And you deserue the same:
For you before whole volumes foorth did bring,
And whome you pleas'd, did liberally defame.
For shall we his by right a Libell call,
That toutcht but some? not yours, that aym'd at all?
Enuy her selfe (me thinks) shames you full ill:
For alwayes she some good thing feedes vpon.
Euill is not enuide, but hated still.
You rauen'd on all vilde Abuscion.
Will you bestowe worse dyet on your mind.
Then Enuy doth? O be not so vnkind.
Poets like Iewels should seeme to mens eares,
Rare in themselues, and rich in others viewe,
Not peeuishly displeasing all that heares:
For that man seemes no Iewell, but a Iewe.
Hard-hearted Scribe, seeke not with lawlesse pen,
To crucifie the sonnes, but sinnes of men.
If speaking ill deserues the bell of praise,
Downe with the Grammar, God be with In speech,
Rhetoricke adieu, farewell sweet Tullies phrase,
These were glad tidings to a Schollers breech:
For what need they learne speaking well by Art,
Sith praise is got by speaking ill by heart?
I crie you mercie, I had quite forgotte,
You were a Linguisht since you were but yong,
And haue the tongues full perfectly, I wotte,
The lying, slaundering and back biting tongue:
Indeed for these, I thinke you may full well
Haue pearles of praise, for you haue got the bell.
And I could wish, eche honest minded man
Subscribe vnto your commendation:
For you did spare no toung when you began,
But dealt full roundly, vsing euery one:
Roundly indeed, or some deceiued are:
For Ile be sworne, you were much out of square.
There was no hoe, your tongue ranne like a spout,
An extreame streame of flowing eloquence
Gusht from your mouth, & all your wit burst out,
There was that gathered, as they said from thence,
Whole maunds & baskets ful of fine sweet praise,
That grew like Primroses, and went their wayes.
I searcht all Gallen and Hipocrates,
Learned Fernelius and Alexis to,
To know if it was not some strange disease
That troubled you, and askt Phisicions moe.
O [...]su God! I cannot tell againe,
What paines I tooke, and pleasures in the paine.
Now master Doctour, came I first to one;
Cut steps his man, & prayes me for to stay;
There were some States within, when they were gone,
I should be seru'd: but on I went streightway,
And peeped in, to see who they might bee;
Faith, there the States in vrinalls I see.
Well, for his counsell him I questioned:
And presently he answeres me agayne:
Grosse humours doe intoxicate his head,
Proceeding, as I take it, from some strayne.
Why then (quoth I) it may be iustly deem'd,
He strayn'd his wit, because too grosse it seem'd.
Yet to be sure of this vncertayne thing,
I sought another, who made this reply,
He hath tooke surfet of a Gooses wing.
Iesu (quoth I) you answere learnedly.
Nay, this (quoth he) requires no learned skill▪
For see the print here of the Gooses quill.
Yet not content, I would some other trie,
And asking one, he told me t'was the spleene,
The next said t'was the gowt vndoubtedly.
It may well be (quoth I) for well I weene,
His verses feet to swell so sore begin,
That he is faine in sheetes to wrap them in.
Forth to another went I speedily,
Askt him, What, is he loose or bound? (quoth he)
No Sir, (quoth I) he is at libertie.
But friend (quoth he) his body bound may be.
It may indeed (said I) but by S. Steuen,
Both minde and bodie yet are loosely giuen.
Now weighing how they all did disagree,
I sought a famous Cantabrigian,
And brought a picture with me for a fee.
He hastily replied, Thou foolish man,
It is the fluxe of a luxurious toung;
Giue him a spoonefull of some new Cowes doung.
But harke, I heare the Cynicke Satyre crie,
A man, a man, a kingdome for a man.
Why, was there not a man to serue his eye?
No, all were turn'd to beasts that headlong ran.
Who cried a man,
Nec vox hominis sonat: O fera certe.
a man then was he none,No, but a beast by his confession.
Fayth, Satyre, thou art ouermuch seuere:
For say, that we had brutish bene indeede;
I shall make proofe, & proofe shal make it cleare,
That brutishnesse to vs small shame can breede.
An Englishman may better brutish be,
Then any nation in the world saue he.
For doth it vs become a shame to stand,
Of our most noble Ancestours this day,
The valiant Brute, first father of our land?
Shall not we shewe of whom we come, I pray?
If we be brutish, you must it impute,
That we be so in memory of Brute.
I dare here speake it, and my speach mayntayne,
That Sir Iohn Falstaffe was not any way
More grosse in body, then you are in brayne.
But whether should I (helpe me nowe, I pray)
For your grosse brayne, you like I▪ Falstaffe graūt,
Or for small wit, suppose you Iohn of Gaunt?
But be not proud, and Ile in courtesie
Prooue yours a quicke wit, if you thinke it meet:
For you are at your wits end presently:
Doubtles your head will farre out-run your feet▪
But wit will soone a time-torne Relique grow:
Your Muses wardrobe stronger stuffe can show.
A rash conceit exceeding strong you had,
Tongue all of Say, subiect to fretting sore;
A linsey-wolsey conscience very bad;
Mockado mouth, euen such as Momus wore;
Freezeado loue, belike the ayre was cold,
Perpetuana hate, that long will hold.
I prithee Satyre, do not chafe at this,
Because I thinke I shall prouoke you more;
As once I seru'd a friend of mine I wisse,
Healing his byle by launching of the sore:
Ile tell the manner, briefely for your sake,
Though for the matter it no matter make.
A Gentleman he was of right good blood,
To whom I said, Faith Sir, you are too blame,
Beside your wife, to keepe one in a hood,
For your owne pleasure, whom I wel could name.
Wounds, blood, (qd. he) proue who, or thou shalt die.
Content your selfe, it is your Hawke (qd. I.)
At that he paus'd, and knew not what to thinke,
For he was guiltie of the deed indeed,
Hk. felt him gall'd and gull'd too, yet did winke,
Iudging my speech did of the iest proceed.
So if you be offended, it is best,
To be perswaded that I spake in iest.
But all this while, we trewant but the time;
For you (perhaps) can Vsher out your deed,
And I of spleene haue charged you of crime,
That chid de but such as foule offences breed,
That they might see, and seeing might amend
The faults they saw: This seem'd the Satyrs end.
Well, list a while, if that you list to heare,
How he and I will wrastle for this fall:
I feare nought els, but that you thinke I feare,
Because he tooke the vantage first of all:
But come Sir Satyre, wert thou Saturne now,
By Iupiter thou tumblest downefull low.
First by his choler I will take my hold,
For it was his vnpatient peeuishnesse,
That was the whetstone for to sharpe him bold,
And not the hate of humane wickednesse;
For then he would haue bridled so his pen,
As he might best haue ridde the vice of men▪
The world growes old, & age growes froward stil,
With gentlest speech it therefore should be won,
It's sore with sinne, and sinne swell sorer will:
Yet stead of balme, he powres out blame thereon:
With filthie rancour still he vomits out
The poysoned malice of his spitefull thought.
O, is not this a vild praeposterous course,
To weane from vice, and winne to vertuousnesse.
Our sinnes are ill, but his offence is worse,
That heapeth sinne on heapes of wickednesse:
As though that bitter euill slaunderous speach,
Were fittest method vertuous deeds to teach.
Thought you the diuell would haue been afeard,
That feareth all, and yet he none doth feare,
When he your thunder-clap of threatning heard,
As children are, that of a bug-beare heare?
Nay, if you thought, he would be scared so,
You should haue sung, Come take him boggle bo.
Ho Oedipus, here's worke for you to doe,
Come riddle me, riddle me, what is this?
That when it goes, it lies, go to, go to,
I hold a crowne, you know not what it is.
Harke in thine eare, and Ile the riddle shewe.
It is the Satyres tongue, not speaking true.
I durst haue sworne, but that I loue not sweare,
That some familiar made the Satyres booke,
For I espied the Diuels method there,
Slanderous, accusing, whence his name he tooke:
Yet sure if it should a familiar be,
He would haue spoken more familiarly.
Iudge, hath he not abused much his pen,
W [...]ose pen hath spared no man to abuse?
Men can abuse themselues, what need they then
Care for abusing to a needlesse vse?
Nay, if you will needs to abuses fall,
Let all abuse him that abuseth all.
Thus haue I closde with him, and kept my hold;
Now will I trip him in his owne foule play;
He scourgeth villanies in yong and old,
As boyes scourge tops for sport on Lenten day;
So scourges he the great [...]owne- [...]op of sin,
And puts his wits felicitie therein.
Do not you know, long since I knew it well,
How he was made, for his braue deeds of harmes,
Vice-gerent to the great blacke Prince of hell,
And giues the top & scourge-sticke for his armes,
Tyron [...]ing it with such wild English words,
As hurts more men then the wild Irish swords?
A friend of mine, whom I must not forget,
Is growne a monstrous desperate swaggerer,
Proud, giuen to whores, a drunken beast & cet.
I hate this vice, but loue the man full deare;
And thinke it fit to thinke of fittest course,
How I may teach or touch him with remorse.
At last I pend me all his vices downe,
Lest I should not make reckoning of the least:
And goe and crye them all about the towne,
Setting him out for some strange manlike beast:
If chance I met him, as such chance may be,
Heare how I will salute him presently.
My friend, you are a vild whoremongring knaue,
A lecherous Rogue, a brabbling Quareller,
A drunken To-pot, and a swearing Slaue,
A selfe-exalting second Lucifer,
The very sucke-dugge of iniquity,
I all become that ill becommeth thee.
You see my course; now say, for Gods sake say,
Whether you thinke this wil reclayme my friend,
Or may not straight incense him, at that may,
To badder course, and I well courst in th'end,
That in this bitter raging fit begonne,
More like a fiend, then like a friend hath done▪
Thus with the world, her friend Sir Satyre playes,
Stately and stoutly dominering it;
Onely this distance lyes betwixt our wayes;
I rayl'd of one but euen a little fit:
He spits the venome of his bitter gall,
Not all at some, but rather some at all.
Malice did twist what discontent had sponne,
(For malice alwayes doubles discontent)
Anger drew out what malice double twonne,
(For anger still vnfoldeth bad intent:)
From discontent the malice did proceed,
And from the malice did the anger breed.
This trippe brings vantage: now haue for the fall;
A ring, a ring, see who shall beare the bell:
What oddes, my Masters, who bets ought at all?
The Satyrs play is parlous you can tell.
Well, let's go to now, we haue breath'd awhile,
Ile giue the fall, or else Ile take the soile.
Our noble Princesse (Lord preserue her Grace)
Made godly lawes to guide this Common-weale,
And hath appointed Officers in place,
By those her Lawes with each offence to deale:
Well looke the rowles, no office ouerskippe,
And see if you can finde the Satyrshippe.
If not, dare you vsurpe an office then,
Without the licence of her Maiestie,
To punish all her Subiects with the pen,
Against the Law of all Ciuilitie?
I haue him vp, t'is pettie treason all,
And therefore feare to breake his necke this fall.
I, but he sees the lawes are broken still,
And cannot bridle mens licentious liues.
Well, if they cannot, yet his worship will,
And in these, Satyrship aboue it [...]ues,
Thinking (O heauens) his vild iniurious speach
Will Princes lawes, lawes Iustice ouer- [...]each.
O, here's a noble selfe-conceited Sir,
Climb'd to the very pinacle of pride,
That thinks his limmes ten ti [...]es sufficienter,
Then all the lawes within the Realme be side:
As though the vapour of his windfull words,
Would blow vp vices on their owne accords.
Is't not a stout-tongu'd valiant Caualier,
That of himselfe dares menace such a land,
Pressing out all the roguish words there were,
For Iewish seruice that he had in hand?
When all was done, on him they turn'd their backs,
And serue now vnder Generall Aiax.
I muse what fostred his presumptuous thoughts,
Sith rayling shewes the beggery of wit:
For if that foule-mouth'd speeches merit ought,
Ile haue an Oyster-wife with Palme to sit:
Fie, praise not men, like hounds, for cry of mouth,
Sith words are wind, that's seldome in good South.
What? shall the Satyre then, that climb'd so hie,
As he might ouer-looke both lawes and life,
Come downe so low from his Vsurperie,
As be inferiour to an Oyster wife?
O, here's a fall, I told you he should downe;
For ioy I pray make bonfires in the Towne.
In Epigrammatistam & Humoristam.
COme hither now, friend Epigrāmatist,
And doe not wring my words to wrong my speach,
Harken thou likewise, captious Humourist,
And heare that mildly, what I friendly teach:
For those that speake in loue and charitie,
Should both beleeued and beloued be.
Ye (God forgiue ye) mocke, deride, mis-call,
Reuile, scoffe, flout, defame and slaunder to,
Yet here is not the summe (but some) of all,
Ransacke your conscience, you shall find it so:
For to our eye it still reflects our ill;
Man may be brib'd, his conscience neuer will.
Blush then, thou gracelesse Epigrammatist,
That troubled art in troubling other men,
To make thy glorie in their shame consist,
Disquieting with thy grace-tempting pen,
Whom great Iehouah crownes with lawrell peace,
As heires apparant vnto happinesse.
O, who should then so mis-employ his wit,
To plod and plot against his natiue soyle,
And cloak'd with zeale, to play the Iesuite,
Seeking a Trophee of his Countries spoile?
Which spite of spites, still like mount Sion stands,
In gowned peace clapping her happy hands.
No land for peace, no peace for happinesse
Excelleth so, but ours it equall will;
No hap for ioy, nor ioy for pleasantnesse
Will equall ours, it so excelleth still.
Such peace, such happe, such ioy, such pleasures slow,
As passeth speach, and poseth wit to show.
Our gracious Prince with peace our lawes protects,
Our lawes protected, make good gouernment,
Good gouernment our peace with lawes directs,
Our peace directed maketh sweet content:
Our sweet content, thou seeking to preuent,
Hat'st Prince, peace, lawes, and all good gouernment.
Shamelesse of shame, how darest thou attempt
To plucke the plume of Englands happinesse,
And broach the malice of thy base contempt,
In ciuill iarres bred by vnciuilnesse?
Woe worthy thou, that seek'st to dispossesse
The blessed state of reall blessednesse.
I will not soothe our land in sinfulnesse.
No, God forbid, nay, God forbid the same:
It is polluted with all wickednesse,
And vice deserues to be combe-cut with blame,
But not reuiled with vpbraiding speach,
Malignantly mens credit to impeach.
You kept such reuell with your carelesse pen,
As made me thinke you of the Innes of Court:
For they vse Reuels more then any men.
So what you doe in any euill sort,
You may defend it, and buyld herevpon,
That you were taught by reuelation.
Goe to, goe to, y'ar odde companions.
Mistake not odde; ye deale vnfriendly then:
This odde makes euen your commendations:
For still odde fellowes are the wisest men.
My reason mounts aboue a likelyhood,
Because the 7. wise men of Greece were odde.
You say, our Land is giuen to gluttony,
Epicurizing with such sumptuous fare,
As breeds a surfet of Intemperancy:
But in this case you much deceyued are.
For each rich glutton that too much doth eate,
There's ten poore beggers starue for wāt of meat.
So, if you speake it vniuersally
Of this our Land, your speach is most vntrew:
For go ye to the Vniuersitie,
And you shall there no sumptuous Cōmons view.
What? said I, None? Yes, yes, the truth to touch,
Their fare is sumptuous, for it costs them much.
I will not tell you, though their meales be small,
How they haue certaine beuers that they hunt,
Which stead of venison doth serue them all,
Cause I imagine that you know their woont.
But they in wisdome knowe what best befits;
Sith loaden bellies make but leaden wits.
But for the vulgar, let them freely eate,
Because most of them, we most gracelesse see,
And neuer to haue grace, but at their meate;
And therefore then best occupied bee:
For though the most of them be rude and base,
Come they to meate, they'l eate ye with a grace
Much paines you take in handling Lecherie,
Lauishing out such vilde lasciuious speach,
As would inuite one vnto Venerie,
Disclosing things that neuer Bawd could teach.
I cannot I, expresse them, nor I will,
Sith bawdy words, must be subaudi still.
If chaunce a woman smyles in company,
She must be light (forsooth) and loosely liue;
If frowne, she hypocryes her luxury,
And lists to take that others lusts to giue:
If neyther, then she seemes an Innocent,
And may the sooner any way be bent.
But women take him for a simple Gull,
That calls a gallant Loue-alluring Dame,
A common queane, when she's a proper Trull,
And sayes, she's paynted, when she blusht for shame.
Nay, men for painting we may more condemne:
For they are painted euery day by them.
But I'm ashamed, that ye are not asham'd,
To craze the credit of your owne good name,
And by defaming others be defam'd,
Sith losse of life is lesse then losse of fame.
How can ye then strayne curt'sie to confesse
Your shamefull fault of shamelesse faultinesse?
O, could ye looke with an vnpartiall eye,
Vpon the fault of your offensiue speach,
And by the Iury of your conscience trye
The iniury that ye haue done to each,
The world might then by your confession know,
What shame will now by your confusion show.
Ye may be taken, and I feare ye will,
For Seminaries of seditious strife,
Who through deuotion seeke diuision still,
And the [...]ubuersion of our quiet life.
Fie, doe not thinke the Pope can pardon this.
Man cannot license men to doe amisse.
Doe not denie, that ye such persons bee:
Men know back-biters, as they horses know,
Both by their mouthes, your marke is yet to see,
Imprinted so, as few but can it show.
But learne ye this, a slaunderer at one time,
Iniuries three persons by his hatefull crime:
Himselfe that speakes it, payring his good name,
For he is after noted for a knaue:
Him that he speakes it of, by his defame,
For he shall causelesse ill opinion haue:
Him that he speakes it to, deceiued so,
For he takes it for trueth, and tels it to.
A flatterer, whose supple-tongued talke
Soothes all in speach, but neuer speakes in sooth,
Yet of the two a better way doth walke,
And shewes no malice, as the slaunderer doth;
Who spits the poyson of his spightful hart,
The other doth but wagge his tongue by Art.
Nature hath parkt within an Iuory pale,
The toung of man, for feare lest it should stray,
And made a goodly Lodge full round and tall,
Wherein the Keeper, Reason, watch it may:
Who when it is about to faune, should see
It range not out, and so miscarried bee.
If then the tongue for feare of flatterie,
Seemes to require such circumspect regard,
Doubtles for slaunderous make-bate mockery,
Reason had need keepe daily watch and ward,
Lest it should breake out, as it oft doth proue,
From bounds of reason, or from bounds of loue.
The ancient Greekes did not for nought adore
Harpocrates goddesse of silence so,
Whose finger on her lips lay euermore.
The Romanes had their Angerona too:
No idle Idole as they did suppose,
But such as shew'd that they should nought disclose.
For let's obserue the tongue in parts of man,
Of softest slippery substance doth consist:
And therefore by the nimble nature can
Giue him the slip, ere his discretion wist▪
Ye be examples, though ye be but bad:
Yours slipt away with all the wit ye had.
Bid god be with it, and so let it goe,
The losse will neuer hinder you so much,
Because the profit benefits no moe,
The barenesse and the barrennesse is such.
But what car'd ye such profit for to raise,
So ye might suck the honie-sweete of prayse?
But he doth ill, if ye consider it,
That prostitutes before each carelesse eye,
The naked beggery of a thred-bare wit,
To get an almes of commendations by:
For each should earne the price of praise indeed,
And doing so, not one should need to need.
But ye perhaps, as Satyre, argue well,
Yet sought not for reuersion of the praise,
But publique good in taxing publique ill,
And reprehending mens blame-worthy waies▪
Well, let that be, that seem'd but your intent:
Yet I will it conuince by Argument.
Were one endew'd with all coelestiall grace,
Had he the tongue of men and Angels too,
Should he remoue the moūtaines frō their place,
Could he alone what no man else can doe,
Yet wanteth loue, (as ye) when all is done,
Were he a Prophet, he could profit none.
Want ye not loue, that with malignant spight,
Vncouer'd all the fraile infirmities
Of your weake brethren, to the wide worlds sight?
Want ye not loue, that all men do despise,
And would extort from others open shame,
Your famous glorie and your glorious fame?
Either ye could and would not vanquish vice,
Or else, ye would and could not happily,
Or neither could or would in any wise,
Or else both would and could, and dare not trie:
Or could, and would, and dar'd, but did not so:
Or could, and would, and dar'd, and did it to.
If could, and would not, then ye spightfull were;
If would, and could not, insufficient men;
If neither could nor would, ye both appeare,
If could, & would, and dar'd not, cowards then:
If could, and would, and dar'd, why did not ye?
If could, would, dar'd, and did, no vice haue we.
This needes must be the true conclusion:
Yet this will not a true conclusion be;
We shall resolue it by distinction,
True then in feare, in matter false we see.
For proofe of which we all haue vice to shew,
True that it's false then, and false that it's true.
It seemes your brother Satyre and ye twayne,
Plotted three wayes t [...] put the Diuell downe;
One should outray le him by inuectiue vaine,
One all to flout him like a countrey clowne;
And one in action, on a stage out-face,
And play vpon him to his great disgrace.
You Humorist, if it be true I heare,
Against the booke of Humours.
An action thus against the Diuell brought,Sending your humours to each T [...]eater,
To serue the writ that ye had gotten out.
Pasquils Mad-cap.
That Mad-cap yet superiour praise doth win,Who out of hope euen casts his cap at sin.
Why did ye such vnchristian courses take,
As lothes the eares of the offended wise?
Can ye make sinne against it selfe to make,
Or wring the Diuell out by his owne vice?
It's past your power, to bring your will to passe,
Your vaine attempting, but a tempting was.
Experience, the looking-glasse of fooles,
Shewes much contention, little good affords,
And ye might learne this at the Grāmar schooles,
That man is wise, that speakes few things or words.
Much worth, more worthie is a quiet life,
Then strife in nought, but how to cease frō strife.
Leaue that ambition, that ledde yee away,
To censure men and their mis-gouernement,
Iudging the world before the latter day,
As though ye would the Sonne of God preuent:
Leaue it I say, and lay it quite aside.
How can men rise, sith Angels fell, by pride?
Is't like, the aire of three mens breaths at last,
Should purifie the sincke of all mens sinne,
When as their words, like lothsome vomite cast,
Not purifies, but putrifies within?
For, that your speach do most mens minds infect,
Some sweares, more sayes, most thinks, and all suspect.
What will ye say? your end though good may be,
Ye meaned well, whatsoeu'r ye haue done;
God graunt ye did, and I will graunt it ye;
Nought me contents lesse then contention:
But your good meaning little profites now,
Vnlesse that ye in action do it show.
A good intent faire vertues hand hath kist,
And that's the most, which small auaileth vs,
For vertue still in action doth consist,
Else it were nothing to be vertuous:
Sith euer the most Heroike purposes
Are easly thought, but are not done with ease.
If vertuous Esse then in action be,
Shew your good deeds; but they are not to show:
And, though they were, they would not profit ye;
For doing good, is not sufficient now▪
If this profound, or else profan'd appeare,
First heare my proofe, then censure what ye heare,
In doing good, a man may badly do;
Because good deeds ill done do turne to nought;
For doing good, it must be well done to;
Good done, doth no good, nor done as it ought:
One may do good, and yet do euill still;
For good must be well done, or else it's ill▪
Sith then ye see how farre ye do digresse,
Consider now what first deprau'd your mind;
It anger seemes, mixt with vaine-gloriousnesse,
If trees by fruit, and fruit by taste we finde:
The bitter nature of your speach is such,
And then the glory taken in't as much.
A fiery spirit of presumption,
An ayry vapour of soone-melted wit,
A watry humour of affection,
An earthie grosenesse of conceit with it,
Compounds your natures: as small palmistrie
May by the lines of your right hand descrie.
But humane anger is of triple kinde;
As ancient Greeke Philosophers say all.
The first, we still in cholericke natures finde,
Soon mou'd, soon pleas'd, whō cholerik mē we cal,
Whose colour will their choler streight bewray,
But lightning-like it flashes soone away.
The next is slower of conceyt then this,
But long remayneth steept in peeuish thought,
And in the melancholike nature is,
So closse conceald, as few misdoubteth ought:
At last bursts out into some sodaine ill,
Or mitigates by phisickes soueraigne skill.
The third most cruell, soone vsurps the minde,
And neuer dyes till it reuenge doth see,
Which in depraued sanguines we may finde,
Who vndispleased still most pleasant be:
But vex them much, and Lion-like they'l rage,
Their bloud wil rise, & scarse with blud wil swage.
But Phlegmatike slowest to wrath of all,
Cause their cold humors quēch their heat of blud,
Rather displeas'd, then angry we may call,
Of later kinde yours, then is vnderstood;
Thirsting reuenge in most mischeeuous thought,
Til with your pen you had your purpose wrought▪
Now Iesu God, how swiftly did you scoure,
With Hue and Crie, for apprehending vice;
Your tongues ranne after twentie miles an houre,
No Irish lackey dare it enterprise:
Many like postes do follow after ill,
That should like pillers stand by vertue still.
But all this while we haue employde our speach,
To bring to light the workes that light doe shun,
And what ye did, we did but onely teach.
Now I' [...]e aduise you what you should haue done:
See then my loue, and thinke of what you see,
Beholding it, for it beholding be.
Not so prophane, with vnprepared minde,
Polluted lippes, vnsanctified hart,
Teach humane kinde, in such inhumane kinde,
As not belongeth to a Christians part:
But haue bewail'd the worlds vnhappinesse,
First drown'd for sin, now drown'd with sinfulnes.
What heathen-hearted Saracene could see
His natiue Countriemen loue-sicke with sin,
Espouse their soules to foule iniquitie,
And not with griefe haue euerwhelmed bin?
Who to their foes could more vnfriendly doe,
Or to their friends haue been a greater foe?
Or if ye would not for your countries sake,
(Whose loue shuld be the supreme of your brest)
Yet it behou'd a Christian care to take
Of your owne selues as sinfull as the rest.
For if this Land be Sodomiz'd with sinne,
It's not your lots to be at Lots therein.
Accept in loue what I with griefe vnfold,
Hold that in minde what ye accept in loue:
Try that in proofe what ye in minde doe hold:
Vse that in life what ye in triall proue:
That life through proof, & mind through loue may chuse,
What it accepts, to hold, and tries, to vse.
That is, to change your mis-employed course,
And weane your wit from sucking still of shame,
To feed on purer substance of discourse,
That it may manage deeds of endlesse fame;
And not disgraced so ignobly lurke,
Depriu'd of good, deprau'd by euill worke.
Long not to be, what ye too long haue bin.
Rare is the tree that fruit in Winter beares▪
O sacrifice your sorrow for your sin,
And bathe your cheeks with deaw of timely teares▪
Procrastination breeds but future sorrow;
Then to repentance neuer bid good morrow.
As many dayes as in the yeere there bee,
So many yeeres each day to me will seeme;
As many houres as in the day we see,
So many dayes each houre I shall esteeme;
As many minutes as each houre doth spend,
So many houres each minute will extend,
Vntill I find, what yet I cannot see,
Your words lesse euill and your deeds more sound;
Vntill I see, what yet I doubt will be,
Your loue more deep, your malice lesse profound:
Vntill I heare, what yet I cannot know,
Your ill to good, your good to better grow.
But Iesu God, I haue forgotte me much,
My hope is bootlesse thus dispent on yee,
This gentle dealing will ye little touch,
Proud-stomackt gracelesse Rake-hels as ye be.
Few minds their faults, and fewer mends the same,
Till punishment supplie the place of blame.
Come on your wayes, I'le ye no more reproue,
But what your friends bad, that perfourme I must,
Correct ye sharpely, not for hate, but loue;
Stand not on points, then they must be vntrust:
Parate vos, dispatch, content your minde,
Ye heare before, what ye shall feele behinde.
Yet soft awhile, and first the causes see;
Inprimis you haue plaid the trewants, I can shew,
Spending your time on lewdest companie.
Item, you said In speach, not one word true.
Item, you brawl'd and quarrel'd from your place,
And so forgot the Concord in that case.
Nay, ye are growne to all vngraciousnesse,
Mocking and flouting still at euery one:
Your happinesse is in vnhappinesse,
The world cries out of your abusion:
So that to spring to growth of any grace,
The case is cleare, you are cleare out of case.
Not one a veniall scourge escaping crime,
Each more deserues then I'le inflict for all;
And yet of one I thought not all this time:
That is, because your betters ye miscall,
Nicknaming all your fellowes, there's no hoe,
But tag and ragge, and cutte and long tayle to.
I, if ye meet a Noble man or so,
In stead of reuerence (as becommeth vs)
Ye will abase him and abuse him to,
And so forget Cede Maioribus.
Come on your wayes, the reckning is come in;
To make a purse, now I must flay your skin.
Yet if I saw one sparke of grace in yee,
The kindling hope would melt my anger cleare;
Well masters, ye may thanke God heartilie,
This Gentleman is busie reading here:
For whose disturbance I must keepe the peace,
And cease to striue, or rather striue to cease.
Downe on your knees, though in humilitie,
(For time deposes such as pride exalts,
And aske the world forgiuenesse instantlie;
I did recount, do ye recant your faults.
Now I haue done: say, do no verdicts grutch;
Whether inough, too little, or too much.
Too much, if bad; not good enough, if much;
If good enough, then here's too little here,
To whom it's little, it's not bad to such,
To whom it's much, not good enough I feare:
If bad and little, then the lesse your payne,
If good and much, why then the more your gayne.
FINIS.